Crisis. Survival. Advancement. That had been a mantra on Rossak, appropriate then and now, because Gilbertus Albans was training new Sister Mentats for Raquella’s reborn school on Wallach IX.
As the Headmaster led her inside the main lecture building, she turned from the elevated walkway to look out at the sprawling shallow lake. “My own students are adjusting to Wallach IX, which is much less hospitable than Rossak. It’s a damaged world, still recovering from atomic bombardment at the end of the Jihad. But we will endure, and the Sisters will be strong.”
“Challenges improve those who survive,” Gilbertus said. “There are many paths to perfection and personal achievement. And countless dead ends.”
“We are both trying to improve humanity, Headmaster — helping our race achieve its potential without unnecessary reliance on machines.”
Raquella thought of her hoarded breeding records, the genetic possibilities that had been recorded for generations; it was enough information to chart a path for all humanity — if properly used. With the right guidance, the Sisterhood could accomplish in a few millennia what would normally require millions of years by natural processes.
The Sisterhood’s secret computers contained billions of detailed samples, but those computers had been dismantled and hidden deep in Rossak’s jungles, where the antitechnology fanatics could never find them. When Raquella’s Wallach IX school was more stable, she could retrieve the forbidden machines and put them to use again.
Meanwhile, Headmaster Albans had finished training ten Sisters to serve as Mentats. Those new Sister Mentats could memorize the numerous bound volumes of breeding records that Raquella had spirited away from Rossak into exile, and they could run their own complex projections of bloodlines. It was the most the Sisterhood could do, until they had their computers back.
“Your women are among my best students,” Gilbertus said. “Very adept minds. Follow me — they are anxious to be reunited with their Mother Superior. As soon as the proctors finish subjecting them to a battery of mental tests, if all goes as I expect, you can take them with you as new Mentat graduates.”
Relief made her giddy. “So much has happened to our Sisterhood since they came here to Lampadas. They will help resurrect my school.”
At Raquella’s extreme age, the hopeless enormity of the challenge of rebuilding was especially tiring for her. As a Reverend Mother, she knew her own body intimately, down to the cellular level. Her biology had reached its limits, though aided by the geriatric effects of melange. For the sake of the Sisterhood, she couldn’t afford to let herself die … not yet. Too much was at stake. Her wisest, most-qualified Sisters had been killed by Emperor Salvador’s soldiers, and Raquella had no obvious successor. If she died, the Sisterhood would die … and she refused to let that happen.
For months, she had quietly sent out notices, tracking down her scattered Sisters and recalling them to Wallach IX — other than the orthodox ones who went with Dorotea to serve the Emperor. Fortunately, Salvador had not forbidden Raquella from establishing a new school elsewhere. Maybe it was because of disinterest, or maybe Dorotea had advised tolerance. Raquella hoped her granddaughter still retained at least that much loyalty and compassion. Even so, Raquella tried not to call too much attention to her new school.…
She and the Headmaster reached a training chamber with a thick plaz floor and walls that provided views of a deep channel carved beneath the school building. It was filled with cloudy water and rough swamp grasses. Forty students sat around the perimeter, wearing headsets and staring at frightening creatures that lumbered through the channel, thudding against the plaz.
“This mental gauntlet is one of our final examinations,” the Headmaster explained. “Those dangerous creatures are a constant visual and auditory distraction, and their individual sounds are transmitted through the headsets, amplified to a cacophony. Armored divers are herding the animals along, agitating them. We do everything possible to interfere with our students’ delicate, precise mental pathways … and they must still perform flawlessly.”
Raquella thought there must be simpler ways to distract students, but the intimidating display seemed effective. The trainees showed great focus as they moved their mouths, muttering quietly.
“They speak into a lip-reading device,” Gilbertus said, “reciting long lists of what they have memorized and making complicated projections. It is a way of testing retention and comprehension, as well as historical perspective. Being a Mentat involves not just memorization, but holistic analysis as well. Your recruits are some of my best trainees, particularly Fielle Vinona.”
Raquella spotted Fielle, a heavyset young woman, focused on a monstrous, sharp-toothed creature in the marsh while reciting her lesson. The prehistoric reptile swam forward and thudded against the plaz barely a hand-span from Fielle’s fleshy face. Frustrated by the barrier, the creature moved away and attacked another animal, tearing it apart. Fielle didn’t flinch. Raquella felt a flush of pride.
Among the trainees, she was startled to spot the blond Anna Corrino. The young woman did not notice the Mother Superior, intent on her exercises. “Have you had any success with the Emperor’s sister?”
“She is a very skilled trainee, though her social abilities are lacking. We are doing what we can for her.”
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Headmaster Albans allowed the ten Sisterhood trainees to graduate, as promised. They had passed every examination, some excelling above most other Mentat students, with Sister Fielle the brightest among them. Fielle carried her weight well, a handsome woman rather than pretty, with a solid jaw, alert brown eyes, and short black hair.
Fielle maintained a demeanor of unassuming modesty, but Raquella knew she had deep ambitions. As Mother Superior, the old woman decided to nurse and guide those ambitions, encouraging Fielle’s strength and loyalty for the good of the Sisterhood. Having lost her greatest student, Valya Harkonnen, as well as her own granddaughter Dorotea and her orthodox Sisters to the Imperial Court, Raquella needed to rebuild a strong foundation for her order.
She desperately hoped to repair the rift in the Sisterhood so that both the Wallach IX and the Salusan factions could work together again, but she felt her time waning. She had already lived far longer than a normal life span, and it was more important than ever to select her successor.
Raquella concealed her troubled thoughts as she rounded up her new Sister Mentats, glad to take them to Wallach IX. As they boarded the VenHold shuttle, she could feel their excitement, pleased to be going to the new school.
But as she worked her way to her seat, wary of the long and roundabout foldspace trip, Raquella suddenly felt dizzy. Her knees buckled, but she grabbed hold of a seat back. With great effort and bodily control, she managed to remain standing.
As if from a great distance, she heard a concerned voice beside her and felt a strong supportive grip. “Mother Superior!” Fielle eased her into the nearest seat. “How can I help?”
Raquella didn’t answer. She needed all her mental focus just to keep breathing, to concentrate on the inner workings of her body. She felt Fielle’s presence radiating strength next to her. Raquella sensed the new Sister Mentat was a good and capable person, but much too young and inexperienced to lead the Sisterhood. And not even a Reverend Mother yet.
But all of the remaining Sisters were too young and inexperienced. She had lost her best candidates. If the Mother Superior died here and now, she had no idea who would take control of the order. Maybe the Sisterhood would just fade away. She could not allow that!