Lucian pressed on. 'A trade war with whom?
'Lucian, you may know much of the breadth of the Imperium, but I suspect your knowledge lacks something in the way of depth.
Lucian did not take offence at the statement, for he knew it to be true, at least in part. A rogue trader might travel from one end of the galaxy to the other, visiting hundreds of worlds along the way, but he knew a world had far more to it than a space port, a trade mission, or a governor's mansion.
Luneberg continued. 'My line has ruled this world, this system, and indeed three other nearby, uninhabited, systems, for longer than the archives record. There are documents in our library that reference the granting of that rule, and it is known that the Administratum has formally ratified our authority at least three times in the last seven centuries. In fact, they do so less formally each time they accept our tithe, each time a regiment is raised for the Guard'
Lucian nodded, feeling that he knew where this was heading, but saying nothing that might distract the other man from his explanation.
'I may rule in the name of Terra, Lucian, but there are other rules by which we must live. Our neighbours have long sought to enforce their own laws, seeking to dominate what little trade exists in this region and extend their own power. The Administratum can do little or nothing to stop this. Were another world to launch an actual assault upon Mundus Chasmata, it is likely Terra would not hear of it for decades or even centuries. The Navy has other foes to battle, so long as it was quick and clean, and tithes were uninterrupted, no one would care, or comment. Or even notice'
'So' ventured Lucian, 'others would take advantage of your great distance from the centres of Imperial power, extending their own influence by means of low level lawlessness and fiscal malpractice?
Luneberg chuckled once more, that edge of mania still very much evident. 'Others? Yes, you might say that, but mostly that bastard, Droon' Luneberg's voice altered in tone as he voiced the name of, Lucian guessed, the individual he held responsible for his world's misfortunes.
'Droon?
'Droon! Luneberg shouted, as the pair reached an ornamental gallery that afforded a moonlit view of a great expanse of decayed, formal gardens. The Imperial Commander leant his weight against the stone railing, small chunks of loose masonry tumbling away to the weed-choked lawn below. 'Droon. He rules Arris Epsilon. It's a stinking hole just about… Luneberg looked up into the night sky, and pointed towards one end of a deep purple band that spanned the entire vista, …there, at the end of the Borealis Ring'
Lucian followed Luneberg's gesture, just able to make out the star towards which the other man pointed. 'Arris Epsilon. I know it from the local star charts, but have not had cause to visit it'
'Visit Arris Epsilon? Luneberg laughed, 'Believe me Lucian, you would not wish to do so'
'Why not?
'I told you didn't I? It's a stinking hole. Its people are boastful and arrogant, and entirely self-serving. No dignity'
Suspecting he knew the answer, Lucian asked, 'You have visited then?
Luneberg let out another laugh, this one more akin to a bark than any sound a man, particularly an Imperial Commander, should make. 'Have I visited Arris Epsilon? My dear Lucian, you really are downright ignorant about some things aren't you? Indeed, thought Lucian, knowing the answer. 'I most certainly have not. I am proud to say that I have never had the misfortune of visiting Arris Epsilon, or any other world beyond my own domains. Of that fact I am immensely proud'
Lucian sighed inwardly. The notion that a man might not have had cause to leave his own world was fine with him, but that an Imperial Commander might follow the same tenet was somewhat outside his experience.
Luneberg went on. 'I am entirely proud to state too that not one of my line has ever, since records began, had cause to leave Mundus Chasmata. It is my firmly held belief that since my unnamed predecessor stepped off the colony vessel that carried him from Terra however many millennia passed, no descendent of his has had cause to leave' Luneberg turned towards Lucian, his chest puffed out with pride, but mania clearly gleaming in his eyes. 'What do you think of that?
Utterly mad, was what Lucian thought, but he kept his opinion to himself. This man and his people are as scared of the greater Imperium as they are of the myriad external forces that would assail them. As scared, he realised, of men as of aliens. He looked into Luneberg's eyes, and saw that fear embedded deep within. Fear, Lucian knew, made men unpredictable, even dangerous.
Certainly, it made them the worst type of business partner.
'I think, I think you have given me much upon which to ponder, Luneberg'
'But you will join me? Will you aid me against that bastard Droon? Your ships, you have the means'
Not if the High Lords ordered me to, in person, thought Lucian, backing away from the other man.
'Not that it matters' Luneberg pressed on. 'I have the means now, thanks to you! I've got other friends you know, friends who'll help me, even if you won't. Such pretty toys… you could be my contact, my voice. You could speak for me Lucian! You could bring to me all they offer!
As Luneberg disintegrated into a fit of manic giggling and muttering, Lucian made his excuses and left. The Imperial Commander appeared not to notice Lucian's departure, for he was addressing a rant to the floating lumen bobbing above his head.
Lucian listened for a moment, his gorge rising at Luneberg's half-garbled words, before leaving the dark garden. Luneberg's mad laughter echoed behind. He would rejoin Korvane and head back to their suite.
Lucian had some serious thinking to do.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Consciousness came to Brielle only slowly, and she was far from sure it was welcome. She opened her eyes nonetheless, blinking several times until her vision came into focus. She lay upon some unfeasibly comfortable fabric, and above her, floated a number of the small, globelike lumens that she vaguely recalled seeing the previous evening. They were evidently set to give off only a low illumination, the light they emitted soft and warm. She studied them for a moment, watching as they bobbed silently in the air.
She was content to lie still, for the moment, waiting for the moment of clarity that she knew was coming, when she would recall exactly where she was and have to do something about it.
She moved her head a fraction to the left, seeking to gain a better view of her surroundings. The lumen closest to her brightened and homed in towards her, causing her a moment of mild shock, before the notion that the device was no threat appeared in her mind. Where that thought had emanated she was unsure, although she felt confident that it was connected to the, as yet, unremembered events of the previous evening.
She sat up, gently, for her head was still far from clear. She recognised the chamber in which she had spent the night, the memory of the bizarre alien… entertainer (?) coming back to her. She paused to recall the incredible display she had witnessed, shaking her head in bewilderment.
She turned to scan her surroundings more fully, blinking at the shaft of harsh sunlight flooding in through the grilles of an arched window behind her. All around the low chamber were scattered plump cushions and crumpled furs. The recumbent forms of dozing nobles were arrayed amongst them, although she could not see Naal anywhere. Somehow, that fact neither surprised nor disturbed her. Empty bottles, glasses and vials were abandoned close by each body, and she looked closer at those nearest, seeing how the elaborately applied makeup and powder, on both men and women, now appeared so soiled, and even ugly. One man, who had the previous evening, appeared to Brielle a handsome and charming individual, looked by the wan morning light an ineffectual, painted fop, his make-up smeared half across his face and half across the rump of the woman upon whose body he slept.