Seated on an organic sofpad inside her snow shelter, Sister Cristane considered her predicament. A cold blue glowglobe floated just beneath the low ceiling. She wore a hooded orange syndown jacket, clingtrousers, thick boots.

This was only her first day on the mountain, far from the Heighliner crash site… far from anything at all. As part of her commando training, to stay in top physical and mental condition, she was required to go on regular wilderness hikes, pitting her survival skills against the elements.

Before dawn, she had begun hiking up the six-thousand-meter Mount Laojin, winding her way along wooded ridges, high meadows, rugged talus slopes, and finally negotiating a rocky glacier. She had brought along a small pack, minimal supplies, and her wits. It was a typical Bene Gesserit test.

An unexpected weather shift had caught her in a white-out on a boulder-strewn moraine, an open expanse with steep snow-covered cliffs above— ripe for an avalanche. Cristane had hollowed out a snow cave and crawled inside with her gear. She could adjust her metabolism enough to keep herself warm, even here.

Breathing steam, letting a thin film of perspiration glisten on her skin under the blue glowglobe, she took deep, relaxing breaths. At a double-snap of her fingers, the light went out, immersing her in eerie moon-white darkness. The blizzard roared on outside, a relentless onslaught that scraped against her small enclosure.

She had been intending to enter a meditational trance, but suddenly the drone of the blizzard grew quieter, and she heard the unexpected vibration of an ornithopter. Within moments, the excited voices of women and the sounds of digging came from outside the shelter.

The snowdrift broke away, exposing her shelter to the cold wind. Familiar faces peered inside. “Leave your gear here,” one Sister said, looking at Cristane. “Mother Superior needs to see you right away.”

The young Bene Gesserit emerged from the shelter into the ragged end of the blizzard. The rocky peak of Mount Laojin was bedecked with a thick blanket of new snow. A large ornithopter perched on a flat area upslope, and she trudged through soft whiteness toward it.

Mother Superior Harishka leaned out of the ‘thopter hatch, waving her rail-thin arms. “Hurry, child. We can just get you to the spaceport in time for the next Heighliner.”

Cristane climbed in, and the two women sat side by side as the aircraft lifted off in a flurry of blown snow. “What is it, Mother Superior?”

“An important assignment.” With dark almond eyes, the old woman peered at her. “You are being sent to Ix. We have already lost one operative there and now we have received disturbing information from Kaitain. You must learn what you can about the secret operations of the Tleilaxu and the Emperor. They have been scheming together on Ix.”

Harishka placed a dry, wrinkled hand on the commando’s knee. “Discover the nature of Project Amal, whatever that is.”

Wrapped in a protective trance that reduced her metabolism to near zero, Sister Cristane huddled inside an orbital dump box as it braked through the atmosphere and cruised down to the surface of Ix, accompanied by a parade of sonic booms. Everything had happened very quickly.

A Bene Gesserit makeup specialist had followed her onto the Heighliner, where she was disguised as a male for her protection, since no one had ever seen a Tleilaxu female. In addition, before she had fallen ominously silent, the Bene Gesserit spy Miral Alechem had reported the disappearance of Ixian women on the Tleilaxu-controlled industrial planet.

Now, using an electronic device she carried, the young commando guided the plummeting box several kilometers off course. After it skidded across an alpine meadow, finally coming to a halt, she worked her way out, sealed the container behind her, and shouldered her backpack, which contained weapons, food, and warm-weather survival gear.

Wearing infrared contact lenses, she managed to gain entry to a ventilation shaft. Engaging the suspensor mechanism on her belt, Cristane climbed inside, and dropped— with no idea where the shaft led. In the darkness, she fell slowly, deeper and deeper into the planetary crust.

Finally, with frayed nerves and reflexes, she crawled into the subterranean world. She was on her own.

Among the crowded, subdued population, she could easily distinguish the once-proud Ixians from the suboids, Tleilaxu overlords, and Sardaukar soldiers. The true Ixians spoke little to each other, kept their eyes averted, and shuffled along aimlessly.

For two days, she explored narrow connecting tunnels, gathering information. In a short while, the efficient Cristane developed a mental map of the city’s comprehensive air-circulation system, while discovering ancient security systems, most of which were no longer operable. She wondered where Sister Miral Alechem might be now. Had the other Bene Gesserit infiltrator been killed?

One evening, Cristane watched a black-haired man steal packages from an unlit loading dock, hiding them inside a clogged vent. Though she wore infrared lenses, it struck Cristane as extraordinary that he was able to move about with no illumination. The man knew the area extremely well, suggesting a long time spent here.

As the furtive figure stashed packages, she studied him closely, detecting subtleties. This Ixian walked with a purpose, confident but wary. When he came close to her hiding place, she used the power of Voice and whispered from the darkness. “Do not move. Tell me who you are.”

Paralyzed by the tone, C’tair Pilru was unable to flee. Though he struggled to clamp his mouth shut, his lips moved of their own volition. In a low, agitated voice, he provided his full name.

His mind spun as he tried to sort possibilities. Was this a Sardaukar guard, or a Tleilaxu security investigator? He could not tell.

Now he heard a soft voice, and felt the warmth of someone’s breath on his ear. “Do not fear me. Not yet.” A woman.

She forced him to reveal the truth. He told of his years spent fighting to restore Ix, how he had cared for Miral Alechem and how she had been taken by the vile Tleilaxu… and how Prince Rhombur would arrive soon. Cristane sensed that C’tair had more to say, but his words drifted off into a long silence.

For his part, he perceived the strange woman moving around him, but couldn’t see her, and still he was unable to move. Would she speak again, or would he feel a blade piercing his ribs and heart?

“I am Sister Cristane of the Bene Gesserit,” she said, at last.

C’tair felt a lifting of the mental shackles that had restrained him. In the light cast by a passing groundtruck he was surprised to see what appeared to be a slender man with close-cropped, dark hair. A disguise.

“When has the Sisterhood ever concerned itself with Ix?” C’tair demanded.

“You spoke eloquently of Miral Alechem. She was also a Sister.”

C’tair could hardly believe this. In the darkness, he touched her arm. “Come with me. I will show you a safe place to stay.”

Darting in and out of shadows, he guided her through the once-beautiful city. In the low illumination of artificial night, Cristane’s wiry body showed few feminine curves. She could pass as a man if she were careful enough.

“I am glad you’re with me,” he told her, “but I fear for your life.”