Voilà en exclusivité sur le forum francophone de Dune à Rakis , une partie du chapitre en VO où Teg se transforme en deus ex machina...Et effectivement, c'est au présent même en VO... Désolé pour ceux qui ne comprennent pas l'anglais...Je vais mettre en rouge mes "commentaires"
Pour l'instant Teg est toujours torturé, donc c'est le passé/préterit :
Words from Dit, Dat, and Dot: "I think we have him now."
Teg recognized Yar's voice yanking him out of old memories. "Fit your responses according to the susceptibilities." Teg heard the words in his mother's voice.
Puppets.
Puppet masters.
A ce moment-là, on sait pas pourquoi, la narration change. Et on se retrouve au présent, en gras ci-dessous. On devine que la sonde a enclenché les pouvoirs cachés de Teg
The functionary speaks: "Ask the simulation where they have taken the ghola."
Silence and then a faint humming.
"I'm not getting anything." Yar.
Teg hears their voices with painful sensitivity. He forces his eyes to open against the opposing commands of the probe.
"Look!" Yar says.
Three sets of eyes stare back at Teg. How slowly they move. Dit, Dat, and Dot: the eyes go blink . . . blink . . . at least a minute between blinks.
Yar is reaching for something on his console. His fingers will take a week to reach their destination.
Teg explores the bindings on his hands and arms. Ordinary rope! Taking his time, he squirms his fingers into contact with the knots. They loosen, slowly at first, and then flying apart. He moves on to the straps holding him to the sling litter. These are easier: simple slip locks. Yar's hand is not even a fourth of the way to the console.
Blink . . . blink . . . blink . . .
The three sets of eyes show faint surprise.
Teg releases himself from the medusa tangle of probe contacts. Pop-pop-pop!
The grippers fly away from him. He is surprised to notice a slow start of bleeding on the back of his right hand where it has brushed the probe contacts aside.
Mentat projection: I am moving with dangerous speed.
Là, Teg commence à massacrer Yar et Cie...
But now he is off the litter. Functionary is reaching a slow-slow hand toward a bulge in a side pocket. Teg's hand crushes the functionary's throat. Functionary will never again touch that little lasgun he always carries. Yar's outstretched hand is still not a third of the way to the probe console. There is definite surprise in his eyes, though. Teg doubts that the man even sees the hand that breaks his neck. Materly is moving a bit faster. Her left foot is coming toward where Teg had been just the flick of an instant previously. Still too slow! Materly's head is thrown back, the throat exposed for Teg's downchopping hand.
How slowly they fall to the floor!
Et là, ça revient au passé, parce que Teg reprend son souffle quelques instants :
Teg became aware of perspiration pouring from him but he could not spare time to worry about this.
I knew every move they would make before they made it! What has happened to me?
Mentat projection: The probe agony has lifted me to a new level of ability.
Intense hunger pangs made him aware of the energy drain. He pushed the
sensation aside, feeling himself return to a normal time beat. Three dull
sounds: bodies falling to the floor.
Teg examined the probe console. Definitely not Ixian. Similar controls,
though. He shorted out the data storage system, erasing it.
Room lights?
Controls beside the door from the outside. He extinguished the lights, took
three deep breaths. A whirling blur of motion erupted into the night.
The ones who had brought him here, clad in their bulky clothing against the winter chill, barely had time to turn toward the odd sound before the whirling blur struck them down.
Teg returned to normal time-beat more quickly. Starlight showed him a trail leading downslope through thick brush. He slipped and slid on the snow-churned mud for a space and then found the way to balance himself, anticipating the terrain. Each step went where he knew it must go. He found himself presently in an open space that looked out across a valley.
The lights of a city and a great black rectangle of building near the center.
He knew this place: Ysai. The puppet masters were there.
I am free!
C'est un maître, Frank Herbert. Non? :mrgreen: :ace_tracker:[/b]
