nano update
Okay, second Nanowrimo update just went up on my profile. If you missed reading the first one, it's under the cut. I doubt I'll accomplish a word count like yesterday's (6313) but I've still got ideas in my brain that need out. Back I go.
Affairs of the State
The tower was tall, taller than the rest of the buildings in the oldest part of Lasa Sina. The first colonists from the ship “Heaven’s Light” built it and the wings on opposite sides with blocks of cream coloured stone from the coastal cliffs and supported them with metal struts removed from their great vessel.
Architecturally, its construction was reminiscent of ancient fortresses and castles of First World and was erected on the highest hill overlooking the Kay forest and distant bay. More buildings from the same era were aligned in two rows that curved down the hill angling from each other to leave a large oblong meeting space in front of Government House. Many of those were constructed similar to the towered edifice, but smaller ones down the hill sported black timber frames with rounder variegated stones mortared together. Every one of the buildings had been homes for the colonists initially but now were maintained and used by the governing body.
Many colonial antiques were displayed at Government House. Rooms filled with gadgetry long unused, clothing and framed documents written nearly two hundred years earlier were part of frequent tours through the well-kept structures but the curious public were restricted from climbing the narrow staircase leading to the offices of the ruling class where the real treasures were stored and guarded.
The more unique and irreplaceable items were kept in the Grand Office at the top of the tower. A giant antique desk dominated the round tower chamber. The imposing structure was hewn from a single trunk of black kaywood and topped with polished cream stone that had been shaped to fit and complimented the dark wood. A sophisticated personal terminal rested on top of that, but otherwise the desk was bare and undecorated.
The three elegant antique chairs were arranged in a semi-circle in front of the desk. Each of them was magnificently carved with representations of the history of the Seven Leagues. The Novadon chair contained imagery of folk tales from New Dawn Land, as the settlers’ world was first called in the old language. The Nirvian chair featured a raised embossing of the great vessel “Nirvana” that carried its colonists to that world and listed their names in a fine calligraphy. The Vensli chair was the simplest, yet most beautiful, with esoteric carvings representing “Heaven’s Light” and every constellation visible planet-side. The fourth kaywood chair was behind the desk and a recent addition, high-backed in the modern fashion with a plush cushioning on the back and seat upholstered in pale yellow velvet.
On the rounded walls fine tapestries hung that celebrated both history and artistic designs and styles from years past. Ceiling high shelves fitted the space between each high arched narrow window and below each window were lockable storage drawers for books, documents and files. Each window offered an unrivaled view of the forested land, cliffs, bay and sea. All in all, the room managed to convey an imposing, grand, awe-inspiring, majestic homage to an imposing, grand, awe-inspiring, majestic man.
Truth be told, the owner of the office could perform his duties just as easily from a little room with one small table, a personal terminal and a chair and, truth be told again, he often did. However, Uri d’Ukav, Leader of the Seven Leagues, knew that impressions mattered; the right first impression would instill the proper amount of respect in an ally and the proper amount of fear in an adversary.
d’Ukav stood at one of the windows overlooking the bay and squinted slightly as the dawn’s light reflected off the tall glassy structures of the newly built Academy. He was proud of it. The old University would still dedicate itself to the classics of arts, literature and philosophy but the doctoral programs and every discipline focused on science and innovative technology would make use of the new space. A technical school had also been built on the property and already reported astounding interest the trades, particularly those required for drilling operations in the asteroid fields at the edges of League space.
He heard the distinct sound of a shuttle engine approaching and soon spotted the sleek red government juggernaut heading in the direction of the House. Judging from its trajectory, it did not fly in from the shipping ports built on manmade islands on the cliff side of the eastern shore far past the bay. The ship was too big to land in the square and the surrounding area was heavily forested so d’Ukav watched as the pilot carefully aligned the machine against the roof of the guard tower instead, the air pressure under the machine’s engines kicking up a furious storm of leaves and grit in the process. Everyone in the square stopped to watch the ramp extend as the bay door rose to allow its passengers’ egress. It appeared that the pilot had misjudged the distance from the ramp to the roof top and while three of the men leapt down with apparent ease, the fourth had to sit on the ramp and carefully slide off. Armed guards escorted them into the station as the shuttle retracted the ramp and sped away before the bay door closed completely.
When the communications console buzzed, d’Ukav turned away from the window and walked to his desk. After he was settled in the velvet chair, he responded to the call.
“Your visitors have arrived, Sir,” said his aide and security enforcer on the ground level.
“Send them up,” he replied. “Then make sure we are not disturbed.”
“Understood, Sir,” said the aide before cutting off the signal. d’Ukav nodded needlessly and busied himself at his personal terminal, looking through documents and files about his guests.
The guard posted outside the door opened it for the first of d’Ukav’s visitors, Gar i’Ardai, the Seven Leagues Liaison to the Fringes. He’d been assigned to monitor the new drilling outpost recently assembled upon a large asteroid rich in iron deposits and other necessities. It was the fifth of such rigs in the wide field at the edge of League space and d’Ukav expected i’Ardai would confirm its recent efficiency reports but also provide some updates on Rovan activity in the area.
i’Ardai nodded slightly towards the guard who did not nod back but shut the door behind him. The liaison had a large crate in his arms with a satchel on top that he held in place with his chin. He quickly crossed the pale flagstones but took special care stepping onto the intricately woven rug without catching his polished boots on the gold edge. When he reached the three chairs in front of the desk he placed the crate and satchel on his right and sat in the middle one, automatically declaring allegiance to his home-world, Nirvia.
“My liege,” i’Ardai greeted his ruler properly but remained focused for a few moments on sorting through the satchel and selecting one file from a dozen others. This he passed to d’Ukav across the spans of the desk then closed the satchel and rested it on the floor between the legs of his chair and the one beside. He readjusted his posture in the uncomfortable chair and started a flurry of rapid garment touch-ups. He straightened the pale blue waistcoat, re-buttoned one sleeve of the loose grey linen shirt and then attempted to brush streaks of dust off his chest and the legs of his dark blue trousers.
“Your arrival was expected,” d’Ukav said, “and yet unexpected.” He ignored the nervous grooming ritual and concentrated instead on the contents of the folder. “Was there a particular reason why the pilot dropped your party on the rooftop instead of delivering you to port as he ought?”
“Apologies, my liege,” his guest sounded contrite but not unduly embarrassed. “We believe he misunderstood our desire to arrive here promptly. I am hoping there was no harm done.”
“Perhaps I should thank you for exciting the guards,” d’Ukav permitted himself a brief smile. “I imagine they get bored with their routine once in a while.” He cleared his throat then closed the folder and looked at i’Ardai. The man seemed too young for the job but d’Ukav could overlook his apparent lack of confidence in person in light of the concise yet comprehensive report he supplied. It included everything that needed inclusion and, more surprisingly, he’d added information as yet unasked for, specifically regarding the prevalence of Rovan transport vessels at the edges of League space.
Nomadic by nature, Rovan vessels tended to range in size from single person skiffs to giant hulks of metal with enough space and supplies for seventy to live somewhat cramped but comfortably. The majority of their travels meandered beyond the regions League freighters would venture, but trawled through the Fringes on a semi-regular basis looking for gear and supplies they lacked and paid for them with whatever they found, made or looted from somewhere else.
Official sale of Rovan merchandise was prohibited in League space but officially the Fringes were considered outside jurisdiction. People were free to buy and sell almost anything they wanted out there and faced few repercussions. It was only an issue if the goods made it planet-side. Customs officials were diligent and those caught smuggling goods were heavily fined or imprisoned. The serious smugglers were bankrolled by government officials and crooked excise officers forged all necessary papers and records of transport creating a legal look for an entirely illegal shipload of merchandise earmarked for the underground.
The black market flourished throughout the Seven Leagues. Smugglers traded and sold the rarities via furious bidding wars that drove the prices of everything to extortionate levels. The most desired pieces were often bought and sold several times before the items were physically smuggled through Customs, most often hidden aboard ships laden with ore from Drilling Outposts.
It was an undeniable fact, however, that much of what the Rovans had to offer was unattainable by other means and there was no simple way to judge how vital that band of outcasts was to the stability of the Leagues.
d’Ukav just had to hope they never realized it.
With that thought, d’Ukav suddenly realized that the liaison was expecting him to say something in response to the documents still laying on the desk. d’Ukav found himself wondering just how long he’d been sitting there staring at the unshaven young face and clear blue eyes almost hidden by the long and unruly blond curls. Long enough to forget everything he just read, apparently. He reopened the folder and studied the report again. He noticed it was typed on pale paper with a surprisingly smooth texture but not at all glossy. It was an odd choice for an official document and seemed more suited for magazines or posters but perhaps the new liaison sought to make a good first impression by using such high quality paper. It was unnecessary, but d’Ukav chose not to comment on it and skimmed through the concise paragraphs until he’d refocused his thoughts and mentally shrugged off all thoughts of arousal.
“I am pleased to see Drilling Outpost Five is performing beyond previous expectations,” he said, finally getting down to business. “Tash Lanza must run a tight crew.” Gar i’Ardai nodded in agreement so d’Ukav continued with a question more pertinent, “Did they engage in much trade with the Rovans during your visit?”
“Ships arrived without advanced warning, but one or twice per rotation one would dock at the Outpost and trade with whatever crew was stationed there at the time,” i’Ardai was slow to reply to the new topic and looked vaguely worried.
d’Ukav correctly interpreted the look and asked, “Did you bring any contraband over the border?”
“A few things,” the young man admitted and swallowed audibly. d’Ukav saw the fine beads of sweat glistening on the young man’s upper lip before he surreptitiously rubbed them away with a quick pass of his left hand. d’Ukav chuckled slightly, aware that the Liaison feared his job was in great jeopardy for failing to stop illegal purchases, and making a few of his own.
“I think we can overlook a few trinkets this time, Gar.” It was a breach of protocol to address a near stranger by his personal name and a definite lapse of the old ruler’s usual concentration but d’Ukav continued, trying to ignore the boy’s shock. “The prohibition and trade embargos on Rovan goods exist to encourage more trade between League alliances. It is vitally important to maintain the bonds between our worlds.” He stopped to gesture at the chair i’Ardai chose to sit on with its carved tribute to Nirvia’s original settlers, a few of which bore the i’Ardai name, forever immortalized. “That chair was made by your ancestors and the skills they passed on deserve to be sought after with as much gusto as Rovan-made gadgets, ornaments and other wares. It is up to all of us to ensure our own merchants and tradesmen flourish, wouldn’t you agree?”
The liaison blushed, embarrassed but obviously proud of his people. “True, my liege, but I don’t think we can overlook this.” i’Ardai stood up and reached into the crate he’d brought along. He pulled out a block of pale pink crystal that he rested on the file folder to keep it from scraping against the marble desktop.
Intrigued, d’Ukav leaned closer to the rock for a better look. It was pink veined, smooth and slightly opaque. Cut roughly square, each side was almost the length of his arm from elbow crease to tip of thumb, about forty centimeters. Flaked edges suggested the entire slab was constructed of hundreds, maybe thousands of thin layers. He picked at one corner with his thumbnail and was surprised at how easily a layer lifted away.
“Remarkable,” he marveled. “I’ve never seen anything like this. What is it?”
“At Outpost Five, they call it deketlon. As a brick, it’s relatively strong and not easy to break across the grain but a carefully calibrated laser sliced a thousand layers off a similar block this size and each slice was as thin and translucent as onion skin and completely malleable.”
d’Ukav lifted the stone off the desk to feel the heft of it and was surprised by its light weight. “For what purpose?”
“Mostly to see if it could be done, my liege,” replied i’Ardai. “I asked them to recalibrate the laser to slice some thicker layers for my own experiment, the results of which are in the folder I gave you.”
The ruler of the Seven Leagues inspected the report more closely. When he laid the individual sheets on top of the crystal, it was obviously the same material and not paper at all. He hated feeling foolish but d’Ukav had to give his liaison credit for the clever idea. He doubted he would have noticed the similarities had i’Ardai remained silent about it. He gave the young man credit for the honesty, too.
“I trust this isn’t the only use for deketlon,” d’Ukav said as he slid the report back into the folder and closed it.
“More experiments were underway when I left. They expect to uncover its secrets sooner, rather than later.”
“And is its origin one of the secrets still uncovered? Where was it found?” d’Ukav thought he knew the answer already but still asked the question.
“I was told,” i’Ardai paused slightly, as if considering his response. “It was discovered by an independent drill team and brought to the Outpost by one of the men,”
“Independents,” d’Ukav repeated, examining the crystalline form once more.
“That is what they said.” d’Ukav looked up at the liaison and noted the tense set of his jaw. Yes, the situation was like he surmised.
d’Ukav spoke slowly, choosing the next words with care, “Did the Outpost acquire more while you were there?”
The annoyed expression on the young face was enough of an answer but i’Adai replied tersely, “None that I saw, my liege.”
d’Ukav saw, too. In all likelihood, a shipment or two of deketlon was already on freighters owned by his rivals, loaded in secret and headed for League space. The pilots would be government sponsored smugglers and skilled forgers masquerading as customs agents would meet the ships at port. A few tweaks of the manifest and suddenly a freighter with a belly of prohibited goods has an official count of one hundred tonnes of iron ore and a red “Approved” tag in its computerized record.
He could condone the fact that government officials from every world at every level were at the helm of nearly all black market activity. In fact, he secretly approved of their influence. The profits per shipment were split between the sellers and the government patrons who supplied the prohibited merchandise. The patrons then paid a portion back to the smugglers that flew the goods in and another percentage to the customs officials who doctored the records. The buyers tended to be the wealthy upper class that, ironically, complained most about high taxes but were most willing to spend three times more underground than they owed for anything a Rovan might have breathed on. So long as a reasonable portion of the black money still made it into government funded projects like the new Academy, d’Ukav saw no reason to interfere.
Until now. He found himself wondering how much a person might pay for a crystal as big as the one in front of him. A patron could make a small fortune through the sale of twenty contraband ornaments but the next ship might have more of the same supplied by a different patron for a different seller. Eventually everyone might sell a portion of the available stock and nobody will have gained an advantage.
Deketlon might be the exception. Even without knowing what it could possibly be used for, he suspected a single patron’s percentage from first sales would be enough money finance a personal militia or possibly stage a coup. The oceans would boil before d’Ukav let that happen.
There had to be some way around the Rovan trade embargo but where was it? d’Ukav stared down at the rose coloured rock and as he traced its edges, he thought about the Rovans and their livelihood past the edges of League space.
Rovans followed no trade routes and never shared itineraries with outsiders. They seemed to have no concept of calendars, let alone schedules. It could be tomorrow or a dozen rotations before a vessel was spotted again League space but where were they spending their time? Where would they have found these crystals and why would they bring them to Fringes? Were they payment for something? A trade? d’Ukav had nothing but questions and no Rovans to answer them. d’Ukav snorted slightly at that. Like a Rovan could answer him anyway. Not unless he spoke League Standard and the chance of that was - d’Ukav stopped, considering. The chance of that was as likely as i’Ardai being fluent in Rovan hodgepodge. Completely unlikely.
“I expect you tried to interview the Rovans in regards to this crystal,” he said slowly, looking directly at his liaison for confirmation. i’Ardai’s brow wrinkled slightly as if unsure what to answer. d’Ukav continued, “I expect you asked them if they knew where the deketlon came from but they were unable to tell you.”
Understanding blossomed on the liaison’s face immediately. The Rovan patois was an uneven mix of old dialects where only a few words resembled those of Standard League. The language predominantly consisted of verbiage that no Leaguelander was capable of interpreting with decent clarity. In fact, most of the trade between cultures required the use of gestured shorthand because both parties were usually familiar with the traditional signs. Outpost personnel stationed there for more than one rotation might learn enough words to trade pleasantries and insults with a Rovan crew but a young liaison fresh off the government juggernaut could never hope to interrogate one.
“That is absolutely true, my liege,” i’Ardai replied, his relief evident. “I did ask but they could not tell me where the crystals were found.”
d’Ukav smiled, satisfied. “Then, I think it behooves us to assume these deketlon crystals were found somewhere the Fringes by members of a crew stationed at Drilling Outpost Five and, therefore, we can announce its remarkable discovery at Council later today and begin preparations for its legal trade through the Guild of Merchants. Most excellent.” He rose from his chair and briefly applauded the young man.
d’Ukav gestured for the liaison to accompany him to the door. “Congratulations on a successful first assignment.” d’Ukav opened the door to his office and nodded towards the people waiting in the foyer. “Your second assignment will be to contact Tash Lanza and inform him that you are now authorized to confiscate his manifests. Use them to track down which of my rivals attempted to capitalize on a black market monopoly. When you have discovered his identity, please contact my Envoy and have them seize the contents of the freighter and begin redistributing the product to the appropriate sellers.” The liaison nodded and hurried out, eager to get started.
Affairs of the State
The tower was tall, taller than the rest of the buildings in the oldest part of Lasa Sina. The first colonists from the ship “Heaven’s Light” built it and the wings on opposite sides with blocks of cream coloured stone from the coastal cliffs and supported them with metal struts removed from their great vessel.
Architecturally, its construction was reminiscent of ancient fortresses and castles of First World and was erected on the highest hill overlooking the Kay forest and distant bay. More buildings from the same era were aligned in two rows that curved down the hill angling from each other to leave a large oblong meeting space in front of Government House. Many of those were constructed similar to the towered edifice, but smaller ones down the hill sported black timber frames with rounder variegated stones mortared together. Every one of the buildings had been homes for the colonists initially but now were maintained and used by the governing body.
Many colonial antiques were displayed at Government House. Rooms filled with gadgetry long unused, clothing and framed documents written nearly two hundred years earlier were part of frequent tours through the well-kept structures but the curious public were restricted from climbing the narrow staircase leading to the offices of the ruling class where the real treasures were stored and guarded.
The more unique and irreplaceable items were kept in the Grand Office at the top of the tower. A giant antique desk dominated the round tower chamber. The imposing structure was hewn from a single trunk of black kaywood and topped with polished cream stone that had been shaped to fit and complimented the dark wood. A sophisticated personal terminal rested on top of that, but otherwise the desk was bare and undecorated.
The three elegant antique chairs were arranged in a semi-circle in front of the desk. Each of them was magnificently carved with representations of the history of the Seven Leagues. The Novadon chair contained imagery of folk tales from New Dawn Land, as the settlers’ world was first called in the old language. The Nirvian chair featured a raised embossing of the great vessel “Nirvana” that carried its colonists to that world and listed their names in a fine calligraphy. The Vensli chair was the simplest, yet most beautiful, with esoteric carvings representing “Heaven’s Light” and every constellation visible planet-side. The fourth kaywood chair was behind the desk and a recent addition, high-backed in the modern fashion with a plush cushioning on the back and seat upholstered in pale yellow velvet.
On the rounded walls fine tapestries hung that celebrated both history and artistic designs and styles from years past. Ceiling high shelves fitted the space between each high arched narrow window and below each window were lockable storage drawers for books, documents and files. Each window offered an unrivaled view of the forested land, cliffs, bay and sea. All in all, the room managed to convey an imposing, grand, awe-inspiring, majestic homage to an imposing, grand, awe-inspiring, majestic man.
Truth be told, the owner of the office could perform his duties just as easily from a little room with one small table, a personal terminal and a chair and, truth be told again, he often did. However, Uri d’Ukav, Leader of the Seven Leagues, knew that impressions mattered; the right first impression would instill the proper amount of respect in an ally and the proper amount of fear in an adversary.
d’Ukav stood at one of the windows overlooking the bay and squinted slightly as the dawn’s light reflected off the tall glassy structures of the newly built Academy. He was proud of it. The old University would still dedicate itself to the classics of arts, literature and philosophy but the doctoral programs and every discipline focused on science and innovative technology would make use of the new space. A technical school had also been built on the property and already reported astounding interest the trades, particularly those required for drilling operations in the asteroid fields at the edges of League space.
He heard the distinct sound of a shuttle engine approaching and soon spotted the sleek red government juggernaut heading in the direction of the House. Judging from its trajectory, it did not fly in from the shipping ports built on manmade islands on the cliff side of the eastern shore far past the bay. The ship was too big to land in the square and the surrounding area was heavily forested so d’Ukav watched as the pilot carefully aligned the machine against the roof of the guard tower instead, the air pressure under the machine’s engines kicking up a furious storm of leaves and grit in the process. Everyone in the square stopped to watch the ramp extend as the bay door rose to allow its passengers’ egress. It appeared that the pilot had misjudged the distance from the ramp to the roof top and while three of the men leapt down with apparent ease, the fourth had to sit on the ramp and carefully slide off. Armed guards escorted them into the station as the shuttle retracted the ramp and sped away before the bay door closed completely.
When the communications console buzzed, d’Ukav turned away from the window and walked to his desk. After he was settled in the velvet chair, he responded to the call.
“Your visitors have arrived, Sir,” said his aide and security enforcer on the ground level.
“Send them up,” he replied. “Then make sure we are not disturbed.”
“Understood, Sir,” said the aide before cutting off the signal. d’Ukav nodded needlessly and busied himself at his personal terminal, looking through documents and files about his guests.
The guard posted outside the door opened it for the first of d’Ukav’s visitors, Gar i’Ardai, the Seven Leagues Liaison to the Fringes. He’d been assigned to monitor the new drilling outpost recently assembled upon a large asteroid rich in iron deposits and other necessities. It was the fifth of such rigs in the wide field at the edge of League space and d’Ukav expected i’Ardai would confirm its recent efficiency reports but also provide some updates on Rovan activity in the area.
i’Ardai nodded slightly towards the guard who did not nod back but shut the door behind him. The liaison had a large crate in his arms with a satchel on top that he held in place with his chin. He quickly crossed the pale flagstones but took special care stepping onto the intricately woven rug without catching his polished boots on the gold edge. When he reached the three chairs in front of the desk he placed the crate and satchel on his right and sat in the middle one, automatically declaring allegiance to his home-world, Nirvia.
“My liege,” i’Ardai greeted his ruler properly but remained focused for a few moments on sorting through the satchel and selecting one file from a dozen others. This he passed to d’Ukav across the spans of the desk then closed the satchel and rested it on the floor between the legs of his chair and the one beside. He readjusted his posture in the uncomfortable chair and started a flurry of rapid garment touch-ups. He straightened the pale blue waistcoat, re-buttoned one sleeve of the loose grey linen shirt and then attempted to brush streaks of dust off his chest and the legs of his dark blue trousers.
“Your arrival was expected,” d’Ukav said, “and yet unexpected.” He ignored the nervous grooming ritual and concentrated instead on the contents of the folder. “Was there a particular reason why the pilot dropped your party on the rooftop instead of delivering you to port as he ought?”
“Apologies, my liege,” his guest sounded contrite but not unduly embarrassed. “We believe he misunderstood our desire to arrive here promptly. I am hoping there was no harm done.”
“Perhaps I should thank you for exciting the guards,” d’Ukav permitted himself a brief smile. “I imagine they get bored with their routine once in a while.” He cleared his throat then closed the folder and looked at i’Ardai. The man seemed too young for the job but d’Ukav could overlook his apparent lack of confidence in person in light of the concise yet comprehensive report he supplied. It included everything that needed inclusion and, more surprisingly, he’d added information as yet unasked for, specifically regarding the prevalence of Rovan transport vessels at the edges of League space.
Nomadic by nature, Rovan vessels tended to range in size from single person skiffs to giant hulks of metal with enough space and supplies for seventy to live somewhat cramped but comfortably. The majority of their travels meandered beyond the regions League freighters would venture, but trawled through the Fringes on a semi-regular basis looking for gear and supplies they lacked and paid for them with whatever they found, made or looted from somewhere else.
Official sale of Rovan merchandise was prohibited in League space but officially the Fringes were considered outside jurisdiction. People were free to buy and sell almost anything they wanted out there and faced few repercussions. It was only an issue if the goods made it planet-side. Customs officials were diligent and those caught smuggling goods were heavily fined or imprisoned. The serious smugglers were bankrolled by government officials and crooked excise officers forged all necessary papers and records of transport creating a legal look for an entirely illegal shipload of merchandise earmarked for the underground.
The black market flourished throughout the Seven Leagues. Smugglers traded and sold the rarities via furious bidding wars that drove the prices of everything to extortionate levels. The most desired pieces were often bought and sold several times before the items were physically smuggled through Customs, most often hidden aboard ships laden with ore from Drilling Outposts.
It was an undeniable fact, however, that much of what the Rovans had to offer was unattainable by other means and there was no simple way to judge how vital that band of outcasts was to the stability of the Leagues.
d’Ukav just had to hope they never realized it.
With that thought, d’Ukav suddenly realized that the liaison was expecting him to say something in response to the documents still laying on the desk. d’Ukav found himself wondering just how long he’d been sitting there staring at the unshaven young face and clear blue eyes almost hidden by the long and unruly blond curls. Long enough to forget everything he just read, apparently. He reopened the folder and studied the report again. He noticed it was typed on pale paper with a surprisingly smooth texture but not at all glossy. It was an odd choice for an official document and seemed more suited for magazines or posters but perhaps the new liaison sought to make a good first impression by using such high quality paper. It was unnecessary, but d’Ukav chose not to comment on it and skimmed through the concise paragraphs until he’d refocused his thoughts and mentally shrugged off all thoughts of arousal.
“I am pleased to see Drilling Outpost Five is performing beyond previous expectations,” he said, finally getting down to business. “Tash Lanza must run a tight crew.” Gar i’Ardai nodded in agreement so d’Ukav continued with a question more pertinent, “Did they engage in much trade with the Rovans during your visit?”
“Ships arrived without advanced warning, but one or twice per rotation one would dock at the Outpost and trade with whatever crew was stationed there at the time,” i’Ardai was slow to reply to the new topic and looked vaguely worried.
d’Ukav correctly interpreted the look and asked, “Did you bring any contraband over the border?”
“A few things,” the young man admitted and swallowed audibly. d’Ukav saw the fine beads of sweat glistening on the young man’s upper lip before he surreptitiously rubbed them away with a quick pass of his left hand. d’Ukav chuckled slightly, aware that the Liaison feared his job was in great jeopardy for failing to stop illegal purchases, and making a few of his own.
“I think we can overlook a few trinkets this time, Gar.” It was a breach of protocol to address a near stranger by his personal name and a definite lapse of the old ruler’s usual concentration but d’Ukav continued, trying to ignore the boy’s shock. “The prohibition and trade embargos on Rovan goods exist to encourage more trade between League alliances. It is vitally important to maintain the bonds between our worlds.” He stopped to gesture at the chair i’Ardai chose to sit on with its carved tribute to Nirvia’s original settlers, a few of which bore the i’Ardai name, forever immortalized. “That chair was made by your ancestors and the skills they passed on deserve to be sought after with as much gusto as Rovan-made gadgets, ornaments and other wares. It is up to all of us to ensure our own merchants and tradesmen flourish, wouldn’t you agree?”
The liaison blushed, embarrassed but obviously proud of his people. “True, my liege, but I don’t think we can overlook this.” i’Ardai stood up and reached into the crate he’d brought along. He pulled out a block of pale pink crystal that he rested on the file folder to keep it from scraping against the marble desktop.
Intrigued, d’Ukav leaned closer to the rock for a better look. It was pink veined, smooth and slightly opaque. Cut roughly square, each side was almost the length of his arm from elbow crease to tip of thumb, about forty centimeters. Flaked edges suggested the entire slab was constructed of hundreds, maybe thousands of thin layers. He picked at one corner with his thumbnail and was surprised at how easily a layer lifted away.
“Remarkable,” he marveled. “I’ve never seen anything like this. What is it?”
“At Outpost Five, they call it deketlon. As a brick, it’s relatively strong and not easy to break across the grain but a carefully calibrated laser sliced a thousand layers off a similar block this size and each slice was as thin and translucent as onion skin and completely malleable.”
d’Ukav lifted the stone off the desk to feel the heft of it and was surprised by its light weight. “For what purpose?”
“Mostly to see if it could be done, my liege,” replied i’Ardai. “I asked them to recalibrate the laser to slice some thicker layers for my own experiment, the results of which are in the folder I gave you.”
The ruler of the Seven Leagues inspected the report more closely. When he laid the individual sheets on top of the crystal, it was obviously the same material and not paper at all. He hated feeling foolish but d’Ukav had to give his liaison credit for the clever idea. He doubted he would have noticed the similarities had i’Ardai remained silent about it. He gave the young man credit for the honesty, too.
“I trust this isn’t the only use for deketlon,” d’Ukav said as he slid the report back into the folder and closed it.
“More experiments were underway when I left. They expect to uncover its secrets sooner, rather than later.”
“And is its origin one of the secrets still uncovered? Where was it found?” d’Ukav thought he knew the answer already but still asked the question.
“I was told,” i’Ardai paused slightly, as if considering his response. “It was discovered by an independent drill team and brought to the Outpost by one of the men,”
“Independents,” d’Ukav repeated, examining the crystalline form once more.
“That is what they said.” d’Ukav looked up at the liaison and noted the tense set of his jaw. Yes, the situation was like he surmised.
d’Ukav spoke slowly, choosing the next words with care, “Did the Outpost acquire more while you were there?”
The annoyed expression on the young face was enough of an answer but i’Adai replied tersely, “None that I saw, my liege.”
d’Ukav saw, too. In all likelihood, a shipment or two of deketlon was already on freighters owned by his rivals, loaded in secret and headed for League space. The pilots would be government sponsored smugglers and skilled forgers masquerading as customs agents would meet the ships at port. A few tweaks of the manifest and suddenly a freighter with a belly of prohibited goods has an official count of one hundred tonnes of iron ore and a red “Approved” tag in its computerized record.
He could condone the fact that government officials from every world at every level were at the helm of nearly all black market activity. In fact, he secretly approved of their influence. The profits per shipment were split between the sellers and the government patrons who supplied the prohibited merchandise. The patrons then paid a portion back to the smugglers that flew the goods in and another percentage to the customs officials who doctored the records. The buyers tended to be the wealthy upper class that, ironically, complained most about high taxes but were most willing to spend three times more underground than they owed for anything a Rovan might have breathed on. So long as a reasonable portion of the black money still made it into government funded projects like the new Academy, d’Ukav saw no reason to interfere.
Until now. He found himself wondering how much a person might pay for a crystal as big as the one in front of him. A patron could make a small fortune through the sale of twenty contraband ornaments but the next ship might have more of the same supplied by a different patron for a different seller. Eventually everyone might sell a portion of the available stock and nobody will have gained an advantage.
Deketlon might be the exception. Even without knowing what it could possibly be used for, he suspected a single patron’s percentage from first sales would be enough money finance a personal militia or possibly stage a coup. The oceans would boil before d’Ukav let that happen.
There had to be some way around the Rovan trade embargo but where was it? d’Ukav stared down at the rose coloured rock and as he traced its edges, he thought about the Rovans and their livelihood past the edges of League space.
Rovans followed no trade routes and never shared itineraries with outsiders. They seemed to have no concept of calendars, let alone schedules. It could be tomorrow or a dozen rotations before a vessel was spotted again League space but where were they spending their time? Where would they have found these crystals and why would they bring them to Fringes? Were they payment for something? A trade? d’Ukav had nothing but questions and no Rovans to answer them. d’Ukav snorted slightly at that. Like a Rovan could answer him anyway. Not unless he spoke League Standard and the chance of that was - d’Ukav stopped, considering. The chance of that was as likely as i’Ardai being fluent in Rovan hodgepodge. Completely unlikely.
“I expect you tried to interview the Rovans in regards to this crystal,” he said slowly, looking directly at his liaison for confirmation. i’Ardai’s brow wrinkled slightly as if unsure what to answer. d’Ukav continued, “I expect you asked them if they knew where the deketlon came from but they were unable to tell you.”
Understanding blossomed on the liaison’s face immediately. The Rovan patois was an uneven mix of old dialects where only a few words resembled those of Standard League. The language predominantly consisted of verbiage that no Leaguelander was capable of interpreting with decent clarity. In fact, most of the trade between cultures required the use of gestured shorthand because both parties were usually familiar with the traditional signs. Outpost personnel stationed there for more than one rotation might learn enough words to trade pleasantries and insults with a Rovan crew but a young liaison fresh off the government juggernaut could never hope to interrogate one.
“That is absolutely true, my liege,” i’Ardai replied, his relief evident. “I did ask but they could not tell me where the crystals were found.”
d’Ukav smiled, satisfied. “Then, I think it behooves us to assume these deketlon crystals were found somewhere the Fringes by members of a crew stationed at Drilling Outpost Five and, therefore, we can announce its remarkable discovery at Council later today and begin preparations for its legal trade through the Guild of Merchants. Most excellent.” He rose from his chair and briefly applauded the young man.
d’Ukav gestured for the liaison to accompany him to the door. “Congratulations on a successful first assignment.” d’Ukav opened the door to his office and nodded towards the people waiting in the foyer. “Your second assignment will be to contact Tash Lanza and inform him that you are now authorized to confiscate his manifests. Use them to track down which of my rivals attempted to capitalize on a black market monopoly. When you have discovered his identity, please contact my Envoy and have them seize the contents of the freighter and begin redistributing the product to the appropriate sellers.” The liaison nodded and hurried out, eager to get started.