Magi Sabiyya: Magical Girls of Dune II

Hondara handara tsukadoroba

Leave me alone if you want to survive

I’ll burn you and crush you

Survival of the fittest for generations to come

Salusan lullaby

Madoka woke up gently to the flap of the ‘topher, there was no muzzle, no handcuffs, somehow Homura always ended up saving her right in time, she had been captured and sedated but she was safe now.

“Not yet” Homura said

“Telepathy?!” Madoka cleared her head, she started thinking of nursery rimes.

“I just knew what you’d ask” Homura landed the ‘topher “We need to leave”

“Back to Wallach?” Madoka was still a bit hazy, the men of Walpurgis had used a strong dose of sedative knowing how quickly Bene Gesserits metabolized them.

“Arrakis” Madoka wondered why they’d be going to the Imperial capital, what was she thinking?

Homura checked her pockets, Madoka never fully knew how well armed she was, even for a Salusan, Homura always overprepared. Homura was trained to become Sardaukar, then a few months before she’d formally join the army the Padisha Emperor was overthrown, instead she got recruited by the sisterhood.

Madoka noticed what Homura was muttering.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

She was just as nervous as when they met for the first time. She has mastered hiding her emotions but she had not mastered her emotions yet, perhaps she never would, at this point Homura had risked too much.

Madoka had dreams, she knew they could become reality, dreams where right then and there they would go to a different place, Salusa Secundus, where they’d find a nice house in the jungle and hunt for their food together. Dune was also in her dreams, the harsh sands of Arrakis, this was a different possibility. Homura perhaps saw the same images, perhaps she had seen a different dream.

Arrakis right away brought a bad taste to Madoka’s mouth, Arrakeen was still the only city with a port, the Emperor made it this way so he’d know who came in or who didn’t. Madoka shuffled a deck of cards she kept in her pocket, a cat tarot, a replica of a relic from old terra. Kitty White was a symbol of calmness, of an idyllic future, so Madoka preferred to use that old deck instead of the Dune tarot.

The devil, the king of cups, the king of swords, the king of pentacles, the king of wands. “Sayaka and Kyouko are here too” Madoka didn’t need to think much on who the devil was, his palace was right there.

“This is what Walpurgis wanted” Madoka muttered “Four bene Gesserit assassins trying to dispose of the Emperor”

Homura sighed “Every other future ends with her, unless we go directly to the Tyrant. We need to prepare Madoka”

Madoka shook her head “I doubt weapons will make any difference”

“We are prescient, we have that advantage” Homura rested in the shade, she was starting to feel her body losing too much water.

“We need to leave the open quickly” Madoka didn’t want to say a thing but if the desert alone could kill them what chance they stood against Leto II Atreides?

Homura nodded, they walked through the streets of Arrakeen until they reached a grilled meat place, Homura knocked on the backdoor with a strange rhythm, the door opened right away, at the other side a guy who was clearly washing dishes with sand, he stared at the two women in front of him, barely adults.

“You want the water?” The man said in Sardau

Homura replied almost instantly “Tradition dictates we do”

The man stepped aside and let them in. The guy cleaning the dishes, the one cooking and the one cutting meat were too corpulent to be common folk, these clearly were former Sardaukar who had been left in the planet after the fall of House Corrino.

“Bene Gesserit has Sardaukar now?” the butcher placed his knife on the board and served some raw meat on a plate, he added some salt and spice and mixed it with chopsticks.

Homura took the plate and ate a piece of meat, she handed the plate to Madoka who forced herself to do the same. “My options were mercenary work or the Bene Gesserit, at least now I have sisters”

The butcher nodded “More honorable than cooking for a living” He laughed.

Their only allies, three old and rusty soldiers who had lost a battle long ago. Their bodies had gone fat, their muscles had atrophied, yet they knew Arrakis, they survived it in their own way. Madoka somehow knew to trust these people, after all societies survive harsh planets when they have a strong sense of community and religion. Homura’s own strength came from this very sense of community, she would die for Madoka just like these men would die to protect them.

Madoka began to feel the effects of the spice in her body, a golden highway covered in blood, forcing humanity to continue through pain, Homura was there to cut down the way and allow humanity to die peacefully. A slow yet comforting end, a nice sleep unlike the other where humanity fought like a wounded animal.

Homura was given a small box, a lasgun pistol and a rifle, five energy cartridges, smoke grenades, shields and slow pellet throwers. She took out the throwing knives from her sleeves and instead placed the grenades there. They didn’t ask Homura what she was planning, they had learned that asking too many questions slowed things down, this way they also lacked the knowledge of the plan to truthsayers.

Madoka saw herself cleaning the blood off from the road, the blood itself was the road. Homura stood over protecting her, lasgun in hand. Somehow Madoka wished more for the future in which they eloped to Salusa Secundus.

Magi Sabiyya: Magical Girls of Dune I

Frogs go mlem mlem

Snakes go pbbppbpthpbthppth

Thanks for coming folks

Ginaz child song

Sayaka found the restaurant in a rundown neighborhood of Arrakis, this was far enough from the shrine of Leto, from Leto II’s citadel and construction projects. Inside the smell of spice attacked her nostrils, out of Arrakis spice would be used very sparingly in food, in Arrakis spice was rather common for food, Fremen cuisine had such large amounts of spice one had to remain grounded to reality itself to stay sane.

She sat at one of the tables, Sayaka took a date from a plate over the table, she found even this was spiced. Courtesy over a table was a sure sign that the owner of the establishment was not Arrakian, they had lived through such scarcity that no Arrakis business would give something for free unless it was charity.

Sayaka looked around, the waitress looked back, she bobbed her head once, Sayaka nodded. A few moments later Sayaka had a flat bread wrapping some spiced meat, it looked like a cigar.

“Can I order something else?” Sayaka asked to the waitress.

She smiled and chuckled “Burritos, spice beer and water, that’s all I sell”

Sayaka sighed and took a bite “I’ll have some water”

“That you’d need to pay upfront, 100 solaris for a glass” The waitress waved at a Fremen who had just sat down.

“What?! 100 for water?! How much is the food?!”

The waitress sighed “1 for a burrito 2 for a beer”

“How does that make any sense?! For all I knew I could distill the beer and drink that water”

The waitress shook her head “You have no idea how spice beer is made right? Seriously is that who they send for me? I was expecting more!” The waitress crossed her arms.

Now Sayaka started to notice a few things, this waitress looked too calm for such an environment, not out of apathy, she was aware of how many of her patrons were armed, she had received Sayaka as an important guest.

Sayaka noticed the shield generator at the waitress’ sleeve, even considering to attack would put this woman on edge. Sayaka instead started to eat “Bella knew you’d run if anyone else came”

The waitress relaxed “I’ll bring you a beer… I’ll tell you how it’s made after you eat”

Sayaka imagined something like the old processes to make sake, mikos chewing rice. The spice didn’t help. The image and the spice mixed in her head, she was aware the shrine was not there, but she could still see it. The blessing of the swords, this was not a genetic memory, this was not enough spice.

Sayaka was not the miko, her mother had forced Sayaka’s hand into a box that made her feel pain, in exchange she received a sword, she would have received it either way, but Sayaka would have been buried with it if she jerked away from the box.

Ginaz had adapted to the Bene Gesserit rather well, after all many forgotten techniques for weapons were perfectly remembered by Reverend Mothers who had actual memories from the times of old Terra. Sayaka’s sword was concealed under her robe, this was probably something this waitress had noticed, it was easy to hide it for the naked eye, not to another Bene Gesserit.

Sayaka waited until the restaurant was empty, it required hours but patience is a trait every member of the sisterhood had to learn. She left the solaris for her food over the table, then unsheathed her sword.

The waitress got out of the kitchen holding a spear. This was why this waitress wouldn’t run, it would be dishonorable to run from combat. Reverend Mother Bella knew that it required someone brash like Sayaka.

“Still the food is too cheap, and nobody here buys water” Sayaka’s sword had a slight blue tinge, ceramic, very light.

The waitress bowed “There are other ways to make money in Arrakis. The tyrant pays his bounties well”

“Miki Sayaka” She bowed, if two battlemasters of Ginaz fought it was customary to give their names, of course in a war nobody did, but in instances like this they followed tradition.

The waitress attacked, Sayaka moved out of the way though the spear detached into different segments linked with chain, the momentum hit Sayaka with the edge of the blade cutting deep into her chest.

“Sakura Kyouko” the spear became solid once more.

Sayaka started getting up, Kyouko was not expecting her to get up “Don’t push yourself, we can fight again when you are better”

Sayaka though was already getting better, the gash was quickly closing, until nothing remained.

Kyouko took a step back and readied herself. She wondered what monstrosity had the Tleilaxu done to Sayaka.

Kyouko’s spear wrapped around the sword, a tug was enough to break it, though just like Sayaka the blade fixed itself, it turned liquid and quickly made a new one. Kyouko dropped her spear, Sayaka stopped.

“Geez! What lab did you escape from?!” Kyouko smiled as Sayaka sheathed her blade again, then picked up the pieces that had broken, they had turned soft and gooey, Sayaka put them somewhere under her cape.

“Bella needs you. One of our acolytes got kidnapped by Count Walpurgis”

Kyouko picked up her spear and rested it on her shoulders “Send Mami then, she has you and she has Mami”

“Unless you want to wait for a ghola, an abomination named Charlotta took her out” Sayaka sighed “Or we wait until her daughter grows up and awaken those memories, but I doubt we have the time”

MAidS I: Pencil lead and poor design

Media stared out to earth, the colors were surprisingly different from a sunrise down on earth. She had smuggled a whole crate of mechanical pencil lead, well in fact it was pure graphite but no scanners would pick up anything strange. Planning rarely went the way one thought, Media knew this too well, she stopped planning a few weeks after actually being in the field.

Patience is useful, plans are not, even if the plan seems to work there is always a better way to do it. Americans were never really good at making AI, they did great semiconductors but lousy code, their Engineers barely understood mathematics. Media knew enough to know she didn’t know anything, which was more than the American engineers.

“Entirely artificial” A voice rang in her mind, a signal sent through a needle implant in her nerve, similar to an earpiece, undetectable conductive organic polymer, undetectable and very useful.

“Thanks baba” Media thought, yet another implant sent the signal back, the ping was slow in space, but then again patience was needed. Soviet code did not rely on AI, it was Intelligence but rather it came from imaging of a brain. The government gave everyone the option of uploading their mind into a main server. Baba was now Media’s eye on the Matrix, right now she had confirmed the Americans had not yet developed something entirely from nothing.

Sabotage, of course, then again creating AI’s was forbidden to them after the Y2K fiasco, it had become entirely independent thanks to a bug and SHRUB had tried to erase the middle east in a single nuclear barrage. It was an informatic war, PAH (pronounced ran), the AI in charge of the Jakumo institute’s supercomputer was the one to notice it and end SHRUB’s attempt.

Don’t do plans and wait. Though the Luna base looked entirely different. Why were the Americans so hateful of the Mexicans but still use their language even for their lunar bases? Hard to be racist when your immigrants enter Mexico and become refugees, some adults don’t even know how to read, that always impressed Media, one had to pay for basic human rights.

Well it was a good thing her English had been trained to sound neutral, even a bit New Yorker, nobody questioned the rudeness, it made them commit mistakes, many times her passport had glaring errors but fear made customs agents skim through it. They were watchful of men and brownish people, Media was exactly what they didn’t expect and hence she was assigned to look at this new Lunar supercomputer.

Patience, Media had entered MIT with forged credentials, Baba had made sure they checked against the database. Actually learn Computer Engineering, they had great logic but was primitive compared to the brain synapses, their semiconductors made up for it in speed.

Wait for the second semester and take a field trip to Luna base. Once inside Media had to find a way into the server and leave the payload, perhaps even leave evidence of young Maria being caught in the blast, the Americans wouldn’t even know Media was there.

“Scheduled visit to the server room. They sell tickets to the base, your alias is GR3EN, tomorrow morning. Take care” that last bit was slightly lost, they were now in jammer range. They sell tickets to military bases? Probably far away from the compound.

Not really, the Luna base was far different from how Media imagined it. She now understood why it was so hard to infiltrate it this time. Yet so easy once she passed the filter, the filter in question was a far guy dressed in a green uniform looking at her passport and let her pass.

They did not let Mark, the buff, blonde, coreback of the team enter, he looked Russian, he had as much understanding of Russian as Media did of Greek, yet they deemed him Russian looking because he looked too much like a villain from an 80’s movie.

The customs agent didn’t even bother to check Media’s bags, no clothes no books no cameras, everything was packed with graphite.

The next day nobody questioned when she came with her bags, they assumed the New Yorker was used to Hotel clerks stealing bags, they made fun of her, then agreed that the Luna base was weird now. There were red banners everywhere and many wore red caps over their head, LUNA, they said, Media didn’t bother to ask, asking too much would give her away.

During the lunch break she managed to break out of the group and some wet toilet paper placed in a good spot caused the lights to go out in the sector for a moment. The failure was simple, before the engineers could find it she had to move.

The server room was not exactly well guarded either. Almost like these people wanted it to die. Media ran into a couple of customs agents, they waved at her “Hey guys” Media said in a Californian accent “I need like, go real bad. I need to change like right now”

The guys pointed at the nearest bathroom, she rushed to it, then waited for the guys to get distracted to slowly walk into the main server room.

TRIUMPH in big gold letters set over a white slab of marble. Media kicked her handbag at the biggest terminal she could find, graphite dust began to scatter into the air, the terminal short circuited, an alarm began blaring.

The engineers looked at Media with concern, she grabbed a pen and the closest engineer she could find. Their eyes went directly to the main server, it was right below the white marble plaque, she rolled her eyes, it was like these guys had no idea about this actual situation.

“Triumph has survived other assassination attem…” The words of the engineer Media was holding were stopped once she let go of him and tossed her big luggage at the server, everything went dark, a fire started to break out.

Media ran out, perhaps a bit of the server could survive, but TRIUMPH was as good as dead. The escape was as chaotic as she expected it, a downside of not really planning things, but Media went into these missions with the idea that she had lived a long enough life, she has, not for a soldier but for a person overall.

She found an emergency mask, she searched her pockets and put on gloves, she had come prepared for this. She was out in the void soon enough, the fire had eaten through some of the atmospheric layers.

“Baba, it’s done, covered in graphite” Using emergency mask and a makeshift space suit she had fashioned from duct tape from the store earlier today, a pair of leather gloves dipped in wax. Media kind of had a death wish, she was tired, she knew another one just like TRIUMPH could arise again, she knew this game would never be over, at least she could die a hero.

The shuttle arrived soon. Baba had a way of knowing what type of stunt Media would pull, probably Baba thought of how the most lethal way of doing the job would be, then go from that. The tape was ripping already, her skin itched all over, she could hear her heart.

The voices were familiar, she knew none of these people. Chinese, Media spoke enough Mandarin to know that they were surprised she was even alive, they thought this was a retrieval mission.

“Water” Media said the best she could, it was good enough because they neared a tube to her mouth, she took a sip and let it hang in her mouth.

“We will take you to doctor” one of them said to Media, he had a thick accent but his Russian was clear, strange, neither spoke each other’s language fully but they spoke enough.

Baba spoke again “Not today honey, this life is bad, feel for me”

Media sighed, she had no answer for it, perhaps Baba was right. Media saw her grandma grow old, she was there when she died and now a copy of her mind kept an eye on her. The government allowed good server space for her because of Media’s status as an intelligence agent.

Maybe it was time to stop seeing this as a prison, Media felt her body had not failed her yet, perhaps this was all a gift. Perhaps she should make a honey cake and eat it, she had not done that in quite a while. Baba loved honey cake and tea, Media had not thought when was the last time she had that.