BOOK THREE - CHAPTER ONE
With the proper guidance from within, averting the liberating but highly dangerous lack of responsibilities Abomination offers is possible - the Bene Gesserit know this, and purposefully bred for the ability to utilise this knowledge in their breeding program. However, they failed to realise what horrors the ascent out of Abomination would unlock.
-Leto II, the God Emperor. From The Stolen Journals-
The no-ship had set down on a patch of rock surrounded by high stone walls, a secluded spot located not far from the Bene Gesserit sietch. Inside, Idaho and Scytale followed the battle, information being delivered to them periodically by small spy drones cloaked by the effects of tiny no-generators. The semi-sentient central processor of each drone constituted a direct violation of the edicts of the Butlerian Jihad, but the Ixians who had constructed the no-ship and its complement of training droids, mood-sensitive furniture and spy drones apparently hadn't cared about these restrictions. Less conceptually offensive methods of reconaissance were much more dangerous than the current method, Idaho realised: using the no-ship's scanners could give away their position, because the active sensor signals could be intercepted, and to outside observers passive data intake by the no-ship would create anomalies in radiation fields that would indicate the presence of a no-ship.
Idaho and Scytale observed how both Honoured Matre and Bene Gesserit troops were being decimated, despite the fact these consisted of some of the most powerful fighters of the Old Empire. Up until a few hours earlier, both factions had been involved in a furious civil war, the Bene Gesserit superior in numbers but lacking the beastlike ferocity the Honoured Matres were capable of displaying - neither side had had the clear upper hand. Currently it seemed the animosity between the groups had been suspended, their aggression instead focused on the common threat. Still, both Bene Gesserit and Honoured Matres preferred to fight amongst their own kind, apparently not trusting the other half of their alliance with their life yet.
The first invader craft to set down on the planet had been relatively small, but their appearance - dark as night, sleek and outfitted with many powerful, lasgun-like weapons - induced fear in the hearts and minds of all Honoured Matres and Bene Gesserit. There were thousands of them, landing at strategic places all across the planet, clearing a perimeter with their on-board weapons, allowing the troopers to disembark. They were humanoid in appearance, but demonstrated extraordinary strength, speed and agility, outclassing even the most accomplished Honoured Matre fighters. Being shot with maula pistols didn't stop their advance, their wounds healing within minutes, and many a defender paid for this knowledge with her life.
It wasn't until after the first of them had been killed by a Bene Gesserit acolyte carrying a heavy lasgun that the cause of their apparently superhuman abilities became apparent - they were in fact not human, or at least not completely: the troopers had been enhanced with mechanical implants and additions.
Witnessing the carnage, seeing how the defenders continued to rise up against the Prometheans but were destined to lose time and time again, Duncan was reminded of a song Gurney Halleck had written once:
Through shrouds of mist
Seas rising high
And darkly scented waters
My eyes tear down
This wall of clouds
The sounds of swords intruding.Serpents lashing at our flesh
Our shields will not be broken
Spectres soaring all around
Will sanity surrender?Venom burning in our veins
Blade sinking into the heart
Demon god whose will directs
Do our lives yield to nightmares?
After the Honoured Matre and Bene Gesserit forces had been weakened by the first assault wave, a second group of nightmares appeared: incredibly fast and agile beasts burst from the ships, dodging lasgun blasts with ease and actively chasing the defenders, killing them with claws and flesh-tearing teeth. The sight of these Futars - genetically engineered hybrids of man and feline - made some of the Honoured Matres run away in terror: they had been pursued by these beasts before.
Advancing behind the Futars were the beasts' Handlers: much less fearsome in appearance, but possessing much greater physical power than their size would suggest, and carrying weapons that immediately and without exception turned any successfully hit sentient target into a mental vegetable. Within minutes, the battlefields were littered with Honoured Matre and Bene Gesserit soldiers unable to move or even think, just barely hanging on to life without being aware of anything around them.
The defenders retreated to fortified positions, and managed to fight most of the invaders to a standstill with heavy lasgun blasts. Suddenly, the Prometheans' infantry retreated, the small landing ships taking off again and setting down beyond the reach of the defenders' weapons, leaving only a few Futars and their Handlers behind to finish up. The first of the Honoured Matres emerged from their hiding places, wondering if they had perhaps won, and prepared to turn on the Prometheans that had stayed behind.
Their advance hadn't yet gotten underway, when new landing ships appeared in the sky, much larger ones than the first wave. For a while, everything was silent: the ships did not open to release more troopers. Suddenly, manny bigger and smaller tremors shook the ground - sandworms were coming in from the desert, and entering the relatively moisture-rich areas surrounding Central, not deterred by the water barriers which usually kept them at a distance. Like demons unleashed, fueled by the intense pain of the moisture burning through their skin, the worms attacked the armoured groundcars and grounded ornithopters, broke through thick stone walls and destroyed plasteel bunkers even a heavy lasgun would not penetrate. The worms were dying, killing themselves in their mindless fury, but the damage they wrought was extreme.
The ship's hatches opened, and what looked like tanks emerged: black blocks of superdense alloy on treads, bristling with weapons. Once on the sand, the treads retracted and the armour opened, part of each structure revealing a human shape. Duncan Idaho, having seen a similar being throughout many of his hundreds of ghola lifetimes, realised almost immediately what these troopers were.
They've merged with the sandtrout!, he tried to explain to himself, not quite believing what he was seeing. They accepted the transformation Leto underwent, and moved beyond that, becoming cyborgs as well! Remembering the destruction Leto had been capable of, Idaho realised any hopes the defenders might have had to win this battle would now completely vaporise.
Seeing these beings, Idaho was overwhelmed by a barrage of sensations, the pain and suffering of the many lifetimes as a servant of the God-Emperor returning to him all at once. He felt himself being crushed by that gross body over and over, and briefly realised that he was being crushed again, mentally this time, the Tyrant having come back from beyond the grave to once more take hold of him. For a moment, his rebellious nature appeared to overpower the influence the worm had over him, but soon after the ignorance returned, making him forget his
lack of freedom once more.Idaho heard an ear-piercing shriek right next to him. Scytale, having returned from the axolotl-tanks which demanded his attention so often now that the new gholas were almost ready to be born, recoiled in terror from the image of thousands of cyborg-versions of his Prophet causing death and destruction on a grand scale. He fell to the floor, hugging his knees, whispering something in a language Idaho did not recognise over and over.
Madness, Idaho thought. How easy it would be to retreat to that world without logic, and release all responsibilities! To be able to design your own universe, not bothering with consistency - to push subjectivity, the only viable world-view in this non-absolute universe, beyond all rational constraints! My own Abomination awaits!