Frank Herbert - The Godmakers

“I know, darling. Mother’s told me all about you.”

“You don’t understand,” he said. “My father died just before I was born. He was…”

“It must’ve been very hard on your mother,” she said. “All alone with her family… and a new baby on the way.”

“They knew for a long time,” Orne said. “My father had Broach’s disease. They found out about it too late. It was already into the central nervous system.”

“How horrible,” Diana whispered. “So they planned for you, of course—to have a son, I mean.”

Orne’s mind felt suddenly like a fish out of water. He found himself grasping at a thought that flopped around just out of reach, then was his own, but still struggling.

“Dad was Member for Chargon,” he whispered. He felt as though he were living a dream. His voice remained low, shocked. “From when I first began to talk, Mother started grooming me to take his place in public life.”

“And you objected to all of that arranging and managing,” Diana said.

“I hated it! First chance, I ran away. One of my sisters married a fellow who’s now Member for Chargon. And I hope he enjoys it!”

“That’ll be Maddie,” Diana said.

Orne remembered what Stetson had said about a ciphered note between Diana and Maddie. The thought chilled him.

“How well do you know Maddie?” Orne asked.

“I know her very well. Lew, what’s wrong with you?”

“Politics,” he said. “You’d expect me to play the same game, you calling the shots. Shoot for the top, cut and scramble, claw and dig.”

“By this time tomorrow all of that may not be necessary,” she said.

Orne sensed the sudden hiss of the carrier wave in his neck transceiver, but there was no accompanying voice from whoever was monitoring.

“What’s happening… tomorrow?” he asked.

“The election, silly. Lew, you’re acting very strange. Are you sure you’re feeling well?” She put a hand to his forehead. “Perhaps we’d best…”

“Just a minute,” Orne said, taking her hand from his forehead and holding it. “About us…” She squeezed his hand.

Orne swallowed.

Diana withdrew her hand, touched his cheek. “I think my parents already suspect. We’re notorious love-at-first-sighters in this family.” She studied him fondly. “You don’t feel feverish, but maybe we’d better…”

“What a dope I am,” Orne muttered. “I just realized I must be a Nathian!”

She stared at him, “You just realized?”

He said: “I knew it… I knew it and didn’t want to know it. When you realize a thing… that’s when you have to accept it.”

“Lew, I don’t understand you,” she said.

There was a hissing gasp in Orne’s transceiver, quickly cut off.

“The identical patterns in our families,” he said. “Even to the houses, for the love of heaven! There’s the real key. What a dope I’ve been!” He snapped his fingers. “ The head! Polly! Your mother’s the grand boss woman of the whole thing!”

“But, darling… of course. She… I thought you…”

“You’d better get me back to her and fast,” Orne said.

He touched the stud at his neck, but Stetson’s voice intruded. “Great work, Lew! We’re moving in a special shock force. Can’t take any chances with…”

Orne spoke aloud in panic: “Stet! No troops! You get out to the Bullones’, and you get there alone.”

Diana jumped to her feet, backed away from him.

“What do you mean?” Stetson demanded.

“I’m saving our stupid necks,” Orne barked. “Alone! You hear me? Or we’ll have a worse mess than any Rim War!”

Diana said: “Lew, who’re you talking to?”

He ignored her, demanded: “You hear me, Stet?”

“Does that girl know you’re talking to me?” Stetson asked.

“Of course she knows I’m talking to you! Now, you come out here alone and no troops!”

“All right, Lew. I don’t know what the situation is, but I still trust you even though you’ve admitted… well, you know I was listening. The O-force is going on standby. I’ll be at the Bullone residence in ten minutes, but I won’t be alone. ComGo will be with me.” Pause . “And he says you’d better know what you’re doing.”

It was an angry group in a corner of the Bullone main salon. Louvered shades and muted polawindows reduced the green glare of the noon sun. In the background there was the hum of air conditioning and the gentle mechanical sounds of roboservants preparing for the night’s election party.

Stetson leaned against the wall beside a divan, hands jammed deeply into the pockets of his wrinkled and patched fatigues. The wagon tracks furrowed his high forehead. Near Stetson, Admiral Sobat Spencer, the I-A’s Commander of Galactic Operations, paced the floor. ComGo was a bull-necked bald man with wide blue eyes, a deceptively mild voice. His pacing over the patchwork carpeting carried the intensity of a caged animal—three steps out, three steps back.

Polly Bullone sat on the divan, her mouth pulled into a straight line of angry disapproval. She held her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that the knuckles showed white. Diana stood beside her mother, fists clenched at her sides. She quivered with fury. Her gaze remained fixed, glaring at Orne.

“So my stupidity set up this little conference,” Orne said. He stood about five paces from Polly, hands on hips. The Admiral pacing away at his right was beginning to wear his nerves. “But you’d all better hear me out.” He glanced at ComGo. “ All of you.”

Admiral Spencer stopped pacing, glowered at Orne. “I have yet to hear a good reason for not tearing this place apart and getting to the bottom of this situation.”

“You… you traitor, Lewis,” Polly husked.

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Madame,” Spencer said. “Only from a different viewpoint.” He glanced at Stetson. “Any word yet on Scottie Bullone?”

“They’ll call me the minute they find him,” Stetson said. He sounded cautious, brooding.

“You were invited to the party here tonight, weren’t you, Admiral?” Orne asked.

“What’s that have to do with anything?” Spencer demanded.

“Are you prepared to imprison your wife and daughters for conspiracy?” Orne asked.

A tight smile played around Polly’s lips. Spencer opened his mouth, closed it without speaking.

“The Nathians are mostly women,” Orne said. “Your women-folk are among them.”

The Admiral looked like a man who’d been kicked in the stomach. “What… evidence?” he whispered.

“I have the evidence,” Orne said. “I’ll come to it in a moment.”

“Nonsense,” the Admiral blustered. “You can’t possibly carry out…”

“You’d better listen to him, Admiral,” Stetson said. “One thing you have to say about Orne, he’s worth listening to.”

“Then he’d better make sense!” Spencer growled.

“Here’s the way it goes,” Orne said. “The Nathians are mostly women. There were only a few accidental males and a few planned ones like me. That’s why there were no family names to trace—just a tight little female society, all working to positions of power through their men.”