Urukku
19-12-2004, 18:10
Rabban:
The Spice must flow! The Landstraad is concerned about your ability to assure a steady supply. Fade is here and ready to assume your place should you prove incompetent.
The Baron.
--------------------------------------------
Rabban narrowed his eyes as he read the message again. The messenger had said it was for Rabban's own eyes only, and the fact that the Baron Harkonnen was once again trying to squeeze more spice out of Arrakis. It was no surprise, really; such messages were not particularly rare and even seemed to have regular intervals, but none were so curt, none so directly threatening. None stating that the Baron was threatening to put a sixteen year old in charge of Arrakis who seemed to prefer spending his time fighting the slaves back on Geidi Prime - Rabban knew that Feyd-Rautha was his brother, younger by more than a decade, and as he was Harkonnen blood he could be seen as a candidate for na-Baron. This could not be allowed, yet Rabban dared not make any moves for fear of his uncle's wrath. Beside, Feyd was still young and impressionable. He could be perhaps maneuvered into looking up to his older brother... and if not, perhaps he would still find his end in the slave pits. There were many houses jealous of House Harkonnen who might stoop to such levels.
Rabban crumpled the message back up and threw it back at the messenger, who remained stone-faced while the ball of paper bounced off of his chest, stalking away from him, then pacing the length of the throne room, trying to figure out how to word his reply and yet not anger the Baron. He paused in his walking, a smile beginning to spread across his face. He turned back toward the messenger, who remained stone-faced - but surely that smile meant someone was going to suffer. Perhaps the only good point was that Rabban had the brains enough to recognize the value of a good messenger... though not much more than that.
"You may send a message back to the Baron... inform him that we have met all spice quotas from the Lansraad, but if he wishes it, we shall begin conscription of the desert rats and bring them into the spice mining crews... preferably the ones in areas where we have more problems with the worms than usual," Rabban stated. "And invite our lord Baron to visit our spice production facilities any time he chooses, if he has free time in the future." The Harkonnen sat down on the throme, his expression becoming almost one of boredom.
The messenger bowed and replied, "Yes, my lord," before striding out of the room to prepare the message for sending.
--------------------------------------------
Kaitain: Imperial Palace
The courier bowed as low to the ground as he could without having to throw himself prone.
"Well?" asked the Emperor, "What have you brought? Stand up man!" The courier rose, carefully avoiding the Emperor's gaze, and drew out a message cylinder. He opened it and read slowly and clearly - if a bit shakily:
"For His Imperial Majesty, the Sublime Padishah Emperor, Shaddam IV, Lord of Kaitain and Salusa Secundus, and Emperor of a Million Worlds, from the Count Hasimir Fenring of Arrakis:
Spice production still unsatisfactory - Harkonnen are four percent under quota this month, expect additional drop in production due to equipment problems, native unrest, and administrative incompetence. Expect price to rise to maintain profit margins."
The Emperor did not rage, or scream. He sat calmly, drumming his fingers on the Burseg's helmet that usually adorned his head. "Eighty years," he mumbled, "eighty years... Eighty years of excuses and deceit. This Baron thinks I will just wait idly by for him to let the Spiceflow dwindle to nothing?"
The courier had no answer.
"I want you to bring a message to the Baron. Tell him that I want him to fulfill his obligations to CHOAM, or I will find someone with the competence and loyalty to do so."
The Spice must flow! The Landstraad is concerned about your ability to assure a steady supply. Fade is here and ready to assume your place should you prove incompetent.
The Baron.
--------------------------------------------
Rabban narrowed his eyes as he read the message again. The messenger had said it was for Rabban's own eyes only, and the fact that the Baron Harkonnen was once again trying to squeeze more spice out of Arrakis. It was no surprise, really; such messages were not particularly rare and even seemed to have regular intervals, but none were so curt, none so directly threatening. None stating that the Baron was threatening to put a sixteen year old in charge of Arrakis who seemed to prefer spending his time fighting the slaves back on Geidi Prime - Rabban knew that Feyd-Rautha was his brother, younger by more than a decade, and as he was Harkonnen blood he could be seen as a candidate for na-Baron. This could not be allowed, yet Rabban dared not make any moves for fear of his uncle's wrath. Beside, Feyd was still young and impressionable. He could be perhaps maneuvered into looking up to his older brother... and if not, perhaps he would still find his end in the slave pits. There were many houses jealous of House Harkonnen who might stoop to such levels.
Rabban crumpled the message back up and threw it back at the messenger, who remained stone-faced while the ball of paper bounced off of his chest, stalking away from him, then pacing the length of the throne room, trying to figure out how to word his reply and yet not anger the Baron. He paused in his walking, a smile beginning to spread across his face. He turned back toward the messenger, who remained stone-faced - but surely that smile meant someone was going to suffer. Perhaps the only good point was that Rabban had the brains enough to recognize the value of a good messenger... though not much more than that.
"You may send a message back to the Baron... inform him that we have met all spice quotas from the Lansraad, but if he wishes it, we shall begin conscription of the desert rats and bring them into the spice mining crews... preferably the ones in areas where we have more problems with the worms than usual," Rabban stated. "And invite our lord Baron to visit our spice production facilities any time he chooses, if he has free time in the future." The Harkonnen sat down on the throme, his expression becoming almost one of boredom.
The messenger bowed and replied, "Yes, my lord," before striding out of the room to prepare the message for sending.
--------------------------------------------
Kaitain: Imperial Palace
The courier bowed as low to the ground as he could without having to throw himself prone.
"Well?" asked the Emperor, "What have you brought? Stand up man!" The courier rose, carefully avoiding the Emperor's gaze, and drew out a message cylinder. He opened it and read slowly and clearly - if a bit shakily:
"For His Imperial Majesty, the Sublime Padishah Emperor, Shaddam IV, Lord of Kaitain and Salusa Secundus, and Emperor of a Million Worlds, from the Count Hasimir Fenring of Arrakis:
Spice production still unsatisfactory - Harkonnen are four percent under quota this month, expect additional drop in production due to equipment problems, native unrest, and administrative incompetence. Expect price to rise to maintain profit margins."
The Emperor did not rage, or scream. He sat calmly, drumming his fingers on the Burseg's helmet that usually adorned his head. "Eighty years," he mumbled, "eighty years... Eighty years of excuses and deceit. This Baron thinks I will just wait idly by for him to let the Spiceflow dwindle to nothing?"
The courier had no answer.
"I want you to bring a message to the Baron. Tell him that I want him to fulfill his obligations to CHOAM, or I will find someone with the competence and loyalty to do so."