BOOK ONE - CHAPTER SIX
 

Why do I bring back Duncan Idaho again and again, you ask? Most of them eventually rebel against me, so my loneliness as the only living remnant from an earlier era can't possibly be the reason. Unless I order the Tleilaxu to make certain modifications, they're physically inferior to the latest products of my breeding program, so the necessity for a strong military leader is not met by him either. If you truly understand my Golden Path, you will see how vital his continued presence in history is. Any progressive system needs backwardly propagating loops to disallow uncontained and uncontrolled growth of the whole, while simultaneously containing a catalyst for accelerated development of key aspects of that system. My Duncans so far have served the former goal, and will take over my role as the latter once I'm gone.
-Leto II, the God Emperor. From the journals found at Dar-es-Balat-
 

The feelings that plagued Duncan Idaho had surfaced before in the past few months, but they had never been as intense as they were right now. Sitting at one of the data consoles in the gigantic no-ship, he had been trying to retrieve some of the information he had deleted from the ship's memory systems shortly after leaving Chapter House. The self-doubt forced on him by way of constant psychological warfare by the majority of the other refugees he had taken along with him into the unknown had finally accumulated into a force potent enough to make him disregard all his mental warning signs.

They don't know about the net and the old couple, Idaho thought. My actions might have appeared radical, but they were absolutely necessary. The net was about to trap me.

Idaho realised his attempts to restore the information he had lost were futile - he had been too thorough. All the data he had been storing in the ship's systems was gone. I was on the verge of a breakthrough. All the memories of my former ghola lives are still present in my brain somewhere, but for the sake of myself as well as my companions, I should never again attempt to access them. They might find me.

A powerful longing engulfed him then, making him feel the absence of what he had given up to escape the net in a most painful way. Oh, Murbella, he thought, I know a Mentat should be able to transcend feelings such as these, but I can't help it. I long to feel your body against mine once more!

Being separated from her, with the knowledge that a reunion was impossible, allowed him to realise the true extent of his love for her: for the first time he truly understood their bond was not just the result of their mutual sexual imprinting. Of course it had started out that way, as so many romantic relationships do - a mutual and all-overpowering need to experience the other's body often permeates the first stages of any romance, and in this case Honoured Matre techniques had amplified this thousandfold - but it had developed into so much more.

Murbella had managed to resist Bene Gesserit training - conditioning her to distrust love and instead utilise it as a tool - for a long time, but after she had survived the Spice Agony she had started to move away from him. It was clear to Idaho the awakening of Other Memory was not a simple supplement to a Bene Gesserit sister's personality, but formed a fundamental modification of it.

Brief flashes of the true extent of the Sisterhood's goal of educating humanity surfaced in his mind: the Kwisatz Haderach was supposed to have been the ancestor of a new breed of human, endowed with Other Memories saturated by Bene Gesserit personas - a very subtle version of mind control. The Missionaria Protectiva had ensured the presence of a fundamental religious bias against any hint of Abomination - the dominance of a malignant persona - thus allowing the Sisterhood to weed out any potentially threatening elements to their intellectual and ideological rule before they could reach maturity.

Idaho understood how the execution of this plan could benefit humanity, but he also saw the vast potential for disaster in it. The Tyrant ... Leto probably understood this as well: he suppressed the Bene Gesserit and controlled their breeding program for 3500 years, but he did not eradicate them. His modifications to the genetic code of his breeding stock and the Scattering following his death might have been an attempt at containing the inherent flaws of the Sisterhood's plan. And I am somehow an important factor in both the Golden Path and the Bene Gesserit program.

That's probably my greatest weakness. Despite my rebellious nature, I allow myself to be used time and time again - not in the least by women. Murbella is merely the latest in a long line. Siona, Hwi Noree, Jessica Atreides ... He tried to picture the face of the concubine of his Duke - beloved of Leto, Paul's father. She must've known of my feelings for her, she might even have felt similar things in return, but we knew there was never any chance of a real romantic relationship.

He lingered in contemplation of her for a moment, but quickly called himself to order. It doesn't matter - she is long gone. They all are, even Murbella. The alliance she was meant to forge has probably already imploded. All I have now are my memories ...

A wry smile formed on his face. A poor consolation. Memories can be immensely powerful - images, sounds and smells from the past resonating along with emotions of the now, evoking new, multifaceted monads of mindstuff, gestalt-like structures unfolding in ever-changing patterns - but in the end they're just that, memories. They're degraded representations of reality, current interpretations of fragmented remnants of infinitely more vivid impressions. Memories affirm the fact the past has slipped through our fingers, never to enter within reach again.

Idaho suddenly felt trapped - an ominous sensation he couldn't really explain. It took him a moment before he realised what was happening. All around him in his mind he saw shimmering threads growing and intertwining. The net is reforming! They've found me again!

He realised he could not escape. Beyond the net the hazy background flickered, and slowly but unstoppably an image formed. It became clearer - he could discern two shapes, unmoving - until he saw the old couple again, staring back at him. Before, the old man and woman had appeared unthreatening, even friendly, but a very different expression dominated their faces now, subtle, but quite clear to Idaho's trained perception - rage.

He could sense another entity from the corners of his mind's eye, forming beyond the elderly couple - a black hole probing its surroundings, warping the fabric of mindspace around it, the patterns of its motion revealing conscious decisions. Danger!

The net had completely formed now, and started to close in around Idaho, inducing powerful feelings of claustrophobia. He blindly lashed out in an effort to break free, and saw mindspace all around him changing in reaction to his movement. He felt a new correspondence between his will and his surroundings, an integration that granted him a limited measure of control of his mental environment. At his command the net disintegrated, to the surprise of the two observers beyond it. However, the new entity was not affected. It hovered in the distance for a while, and then, of its own volition, slowly merged with the background.

Idaho calmed down a bit, but could not shake a feeling of unspecified dread. Just beyond his mental reach, Idaho could feel there was an immense power present. Dangerous! But oh so tempting! He wanted to plunge into it, experience the new sensations he knew awaited him there, but regained control of his impulses before he could do it.

He had seen the old couple again. Did they see me?, he asked himself against all better judgment. They did. They had always looked friendly, almost inviting before, but now a malignant atmosphere had settled over them, almost imperceptible to regular observers, but frightening in its harshness.

And then there was the other. He was familiar in some way, yet not at all comforting. This was not a friend. Idaho resolved to prevent him from gaining any measure of control at any cost.

A bellowing laughter echoed in Idaho's mind, and then someone spoke. "The Duncans were always at least somewhat rebellious. I'm very pleased to see this character trait was not lost over the centuries."

Idaho recoiled, his mind almost instanly flowing back into consciousness. Throughout the vast majority of hundreds of ghola lifetimes, this one thing had been a constant. That voice! It was unmistakeable. But how was this possible?

He could only whisper. "Leto?"

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