Legends of Dune 2 The Machine Crusade by Frank Herbert

Author:Frank Herbert [Herbert, Frank]
Format: epub
Publisher: Frank Herbert
Published: 2010-03-25T10:06:46.185000+00:00

Ishmael shook his head, thinking of his daughter Chamal, then of his lost wife Ozza, and of Falina. They were still alive somewhere, and he dared not risk them. “Bel Moulay was executed, Alüd. Many hundreds of Buddislamic slaves were slaughtered when the Dragoons recaptured Starda Spaceport.”

“He had the right idea you know he did, Ishmael but he acted precipitously, before he was ready. This time, the uprising will be on an unprecedented scale. I will orchestrate it on my own terms.”

Ishmael pictured Chamal's new husband Rafel cut to bloody ribbons by guards with Chandler pistols… and Ozza and Falina, clinging to each other while Lord Bludd's troops mowed them down in burning cane fields. He shook his head. “And the Dragoon guards will retaliate on a scale commensurate with your uprising. Think of the suffering ”

“Only if we fail, Ishmael,” Alüd said, stepping closer. The wind stirred his dark hair like a thunderhead. “It will be vengeance against our captors in the name of the martyr Bel Moulay. We kill the oppressors and take their world for ourselves. Make them serve us for a change. We'll take whatever payment we deem acceptable for all the lost years of our lives.”

Ishmael swallowed hard. “I am terrified of your plan, Alüd.”

“Terrified?” He let out a bitter laugh. “The League Worlds have always said that Buddislamics are cowards, that we flee from any fight, that we turned our backs on their war against the machine demons.” Alüd leaned closer, his eyes blazing like those of Bel Moulay so long ago. “But on this anniversary, we will show them just what sort of cowards we are. It will be a bloodbath they'll never forget.”

“Alüd, I beg you not to go forward with this. Violence in the name of Buddallah is still murder.”

“Blind passivity in the face of all torments is still surrender,” Alüd countered. He reached into his striped shirt and pulled out a long curved knife he had fashioned from a sharpened piece of scrap metal. “Do you intend to give us away, Ishmael? Will you report our plans to your friend Lord Bludd?” He extended the knife, hilt first. “Take it. You may as well kill me yourself then.”

Ishmael raised his hands. “No, Alüd.”

But the other man grabbed Ishmael's wrist and forced him to grasp the knife. Alüd pressed the point against his own chest. “Do it. Kill me now, for I no longer wish to live as a slave.”

“Nonsense! I would never hurt you.”

“This is your chance,” Alüd growled. “Do it or never again object to what I mean to do.”

Ishmael yanked his hand free, releasing his grip on the weapon. He cast his gaze downward. “Is this the only way you know, Alüd? I feel sorry for you.”

Sneering as if he wanted to spit in Ishmael's face, Alüd slipped the knife back into its hiding place. “You are no longer my friend, Ishmael, nor are you my enemy.” He turned his back and uttered a final insult into the wind.

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