Mentats of Dune

Chapter 51 (A threat works only if the recipient believes)

It was not a good time for the Mother Superior to die.

Prior to the crisis, Raquella had been quite healthy despite her advanced age, and now, only a year later, she felt decades older. Sorrow, despair, and the stress of rebuilding the Sisterhood school on a different planet would have taken its toll even on a much younger woman.

In order to maintain herself, she consumed frequent doses of melange supplied by VenHold, as well as other drugs, but they were rapidly becoming insufficient. Even melange only stretched her already-long life like a rubber band. Now her lifeline was almost to the breaking point.

Early each morning, locked in her private quarters, she went into a trance and analyzed her internal chemistry and cellular structure. With her skills and control as a Reverend Mother, she could observe each biological detail as if projected on a screen in her mind.

After analyzing the tiniest cellular nuances, Raquella used the information to determine what adjustments were necessary to sustain her for one more day. But tiny errors and failures had been mounting, and she’d been in crisis mode for a long time, just trying to stay alive. Her rate of decline was increasing, and she knew she could not maintain the biological façade for much longer. And the Sisterhood was still broken.

Raquella would have preferred to orchestrate her passing much differently. She had to save the Sisterhood, choose her successor. Otherwise there would be more turmoil, more arguments, maybe even further splits. Valya Harkonnen seemed the obvious candidate, but there was also Dorotea. Each woman had certain advantages, and obvious flaws. If only Raquella could combine the best of both, fuse the factions, heal them.

The other Sisters on Wallach IX didn’t notice the extent of the Mother Superior’s deterioration. They had seen the old woman for so long that they turned a blind eye to her mortality. Raquella’s followers didn’t know about the effort she expended just to keep standing upright. If she made the slightest slip, the house of cards that was her body would collapse. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up.

Now, on a bright morning under a clear sky, she walked out on the steep trail, climbing high Laojin Cliff as she often did. To demonstrate her health, Raquella continued to go for long walks. The wooded path was familiar to her, and she liked being high up, where she could look down at the cluster of buildings that constituted her new school.

Fielle accompanied her this morning, listening more than talking, as she often did. The large-boned Sister Mentat was in good shape and could actually walk faster, but was holding back. Raquella appreciated the company. She missed conversations with her dear friend Karee Marques, who had also been a Mentat, with the capacity to offer objective, well-reasoned advice.

Fielle was not an appropriate choice to become the next Mother Superior, but if Raquella were to die tomorrow — with Valya away on Ginaz for Swordmaster training, and Dorotea ensconced on Salusa Secundus — who would lead the Sisters? Raquella needed to decide on her successor.

Continuing to walk, the old woman remained silent, but her mind was not quiet; the rattling voices of Other Memory, dead Sisters from her bloodlines, clamored for her to join them. Raquella was not quite ready — but it had to be soon. She felt dread and anticipation.

They reached a sunny overlook on the steep trail, one of Raquella’s favorite spots. There they could sit on a flat stone and gaze out on the trees, lakes, and mountains of Wallach IX. A chill wind blew across the treetops and ruffled their robes.

Bundling up, the two sat for a long, contemplative moment. Fielle’s brown eyes were filled with compassion and concern. “Are you feeling well today, Mother Superior? You seem to be keeping something inside. Would you like to share it with me? I’ll do whatever I can to assist you.”

Raquella felt weary in every aged muscle and bone of her body. “It is no secret — I’m dying.”

The Sister Mentat did not react with denial; instead, she just gave a sad nod.

“Fielle, you are one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met, and I admire you for that.” Raquella smiled. “And for other fine traits. But you are so young, dear, so very young.”

“And I have much that I still want to learn from you. Is there any way I can help? For all of us, please find a way to keep going, Mother Superior.”

“The Sisterhood must keep going. I have already lived long past a normal lifetime, and I worry not for myself but for the future of this school, and these Sisters. I don’t want it all to die with me.”

Fielle raised her voice. “We would never allow that, Mother Superior!”

“I have often said that emotions get in the way of our tasks, that love is a dangerous distraction, but maybe I was wrong about that, Fielle, because I’m buoyed by the love you show for me, and I appreciate it more than you can possibly realize. But among other Sisters who will outlive me — those here and others on Salusa Secundus — there is such enmity that I don’t see a way to bring them together. We are too fragmented.”

“There may be a way, Mother Superior. I have run Mentat projections.” Fielle rose to her feet and paced the promontory, as if it were an office. “Without you, there would likely be a civil war among the Sisters, a power struggle, perhaps even further Imperial intervention. Reverend Mother Valya could instigate it, or maybe Dorotea — but it would happen for certain. Each side would view your loss as a vacuum that must be filled.”

Raquella’s eyes burned with emotion. “Unless I fix it first. I have asked Dorotea to come here so I can speak with her, beg her … but I suspect she will not listen.”

Fielle sounded more optimistic now. “A crisis broke us apart, Mother Superior. It will require another crisis, not mere diplomacy, to bring us back together. My Mentat projection suggests a method to reunite the estranged factions, but I hesitate to tell you. It is perhaps too radical.”

“I need a solution, so give me the raw information. Let me decide.” She rose to her feet and stood with her arms folded across her chest, trying not to shiver in the breeze. “What do you have in mind?”

The younger woman avoided making eye contact, as if ashamed of what she was about to suggest. “They still love you, regardless of politics, Mother Superior. All the Sisters on Wallach IX do, and I am convinced Dorotea and her orthodox Sisters do as well. Use that.”

“How?”

“Demand that the factions put aside their differences and find common ground — now. You do not have the time to craft a gradual peace. If they fail to do so, then shock them into doing what they must. As has been proved time and again, never underestimate the power of a martyr.”

“You mean, threaten to kill myself?”

“You may have to do more than threaten. If logic doesn’t make them solve their differences, maybe guilt will.”

Raquella thought for a moment, and nodded. “Sister Arlett has already departed for Salusa Secundus with a message for Dorotea. I’ll dispatch a coded letter to Ginaz recalling Valya. I need them both here immediately, so I can give them my ultimatum. If they refuse…” She shrugged. “My life is at an end anyway. Maybe my death can accomplish one last thing.”

The pair began walking back down the trail, moving at the old woman’s pace. Raquella was slower than usual. Although now she had a glimmer of hope for the Sisterhood, she felt the deep fatigue of a long lifetime.