The effect was immediate and fascinating to Idaho. A troop of young Fish Speakers swarmed into the room. Two of them took a folding table and chairs from behind a panel and placed them on the balcony. Others set the table for two people. More brought food—fresh fruit, hot rolls and a steaming drink which smelled faintly of spice and caffeine. It was all done with a swift and silent efficiency which spoke of long practice. They left as they had come, without a word.
Idaho found himself seated across from Moneo at the table within a minute after the start of this curious performance.
“Every morning like that?” Idaho asked.
“Only if you wish it.”
Idaho sampled the drink: melange-coffee. He recognized the fruit, the soft Caladan melon called
“You know me pretty well,” Idaho said.
Moneo smiled. “We’ve had some practice. Now, about your question.”
“And Leto’s curious theory.”
“Yes. He says that the all-male army was too dangerous to its civilian support base.”
“That’s crazy! Without the army, there would’ve been no . . .”
“I know the argument. But he says that the male army was a survival of the screening function delegated to the nonbreeding males in the prehistoric pack. He says it was a curiously consistent fact that it was always the older males who sent the younger males into battle.”
“What does that mean,
“The ones who were always out on the dangerous perimeter protecting the core of breeding males, females and the young. The ones who first encountered the predator.”
“How is that dangerous to the . . . civilians?”
Idaho took a bite of the melon, found it ripened perfectly.
“The Lord Leto says that when it was denied an external enemy, the all-male army always turned against its own population. Always.”
“Contending for the females?”
“Perhaps. He obviously does not believe, however, that it was
“I don’t find this a curious theory.”
“You have not heard all of it.”
“There’s more?”
“Oh, yes. He says that the all-male army has a strong tendency toward homosexual activities.”
Idaho glared across the table at Moneo. “I never . . .”
“Of course not. He is speaking about sublimation, about deflected energies and all the rest of it.”
“The rest of what?” Idaho was prickly with anger at what he saw as an attack on his male self-image.
“Adolescent attitudes, just boys together, jokes designed purely to cause pain, loyalty only to your pack-mates . . . things of that nature.”
Idaho spoke coldly. “What’s your opinion?”
“I remind myself”—Moneo turned and spoke while looking out at the view—“of something which he has said and which I am sure is true. He is every soldier in human history. He offered to parade for me a series of examples—famous military figures who were frozen in adolescence. I declined the offer. I have read my history with care and have recognized this characteristic for myself.”
Moneo turned and looked directly into Idaho’s eyes.
“Think about it, Commander.”
Idaho prided himself on self-honesty and this hit him. Cults of youth and adolescence preserved in the military? It had the ring of truth. There were examples in his own experience . . .
Moneo nodded. “The homosexual, latent or otherwise, who maintains that condition for reasons which could be called purely psychological, tends to indulge in pain-causing behavior—seeking it for himself and inflicting it upon others. Lord Leto says this goes back to the testing behavior in the prehistoric pack.”
“You believe him?”
“I do.”
Idaho took a bite of the melon. It had lost its sweet savor. He swallowed and put down his spoon.
“I will have to think about this,” Idaho said.
“Of course.”
“You’re not eating,” Idaho said.
“I was up before dawn and ate then.” Moneo gestured at his plate. “The women continually try to tempt me.”
“Do they ever succeed?”
“Occasionally.”
“You’re right. I find his theory curious. Is there more to it?”
“Ohhh, he says that when it breaks out of the adolescent-homosexual restraints, the male army is essentially rapist. Rape is often murderous and that’s not survival behavior.”
Idaho scowled.
A tight smile flitted across Moneo’s mouth. “Lord Leto says that only Atreides discipline and moral restraints prevented some of the worst excesses in your times.”
A deep sigh shook Idaho.
Moneo sat back, thinking of a thing the God Emperor had once said:
“Those damned Atreides!” Idaho said.
“I am Atreides,” Moneo said.
“What?” Idaho was shocked.
“His breeding program,” Moneo said. “I’m sure the Tleilaxu mentioned it. I am directly descended from the mating of his sister and Harq al-Ada.”
Idaho leaned toward him. “Then tell me, Atreides, how are women better soldiers than men?”
“They find it easier to mature.”
Idaho shook his head in bewilderment.
