OH NOES DETENTION! - RP for Baron Harkonnen and the Master

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

The Master had been in many prisons in his lives, of varying security and comfort. They tended to be more temporary arrangements than his would-be captors anticipated. The idea of a 'detention' therefore seemed more like an entertaining novelty than an ominous prospect.

The house elf that had apparently been sent to fetch him seemed a bit anxious, which was promising; he wasn't especially kind to house elves (at least, when the Doctor wasn't around to see) so whoever 'Baron Vladimir Harkonnen' was, the house elves were more scared of his wrath than being a test subject for a newly-learned hex or the latest setting on the Master's electrostatic manipulator.

He largely ignored the creature this time, however, following it with a carefully studied air of ennui as he took mental note of the particular corridors they traveled to reach the Muggle Studies office.

"I suppose you'd better announce me," he told the house elf with a malicious grin.

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[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

The Baron was also thinking that detention would prove to be more of an entertainment than anything else- actual 'detention' might have been work. On the occasions when he imposed a detention, he tended to utilize it as more of a summons than anything. There were some tolerable, if not-very-creative ideas on what detention was supposed to include in a few of the school rule books he'd actually perused. There were indications that these ideas were, unfortunately, outdated. That shackles had fallen out of use in the modern era was surely responsible in some part for the dismal state Hogwarts was in today. Not that he had complaints about this state. It was easy to take advantage of.

And, he'd done this to the fullest. Vladimir's office was only slightly less luxurious than his apartments. Furnishings were richly upholstered in red, and a thick black carpet covered the stones of the castle floor. The walls of the office- which seemed as if it must have been somewhat magically enlarged- were still the archaic stone present in much of the castle. Although most of the furniture present would not have looked entirely out of place in many modern, or even antique surroundings, the contrast of the castle walls served to bring out the futuristic qualities of the designs. The monolithic black desk which occupied a dim section of the softly-lit room was possessed of nothing but the stark, angular forms these features tended to take. This was located at some distance from the door, and not in line with it. When Mopsy opened the door, the first thing that Master would see would not be the Baron, but rather a large wizarding reproduction of John Martin's Pandemonium (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Pandemonium.jpg), in which the flames actually flickered, and shifting orange flashes and flickers moved through the roiling clouds.

The house-elf appeared unswayed by the malicious grin- her nervousness was so deeply ingrained that it had become some sort of constant. On finding herself basically ignored after announcing the Baron's 'detention' student, she continued to glance properly at the floor with a sense of distinct anxiety- possibly explained by a rumbling "Ahhh. . .not quite what I expected," from behind the dimly lit desk. When no particular scolding occurred, Mopsy quickly made herself 'scarce', scurrying discreetly to an unobtrusive part of the office.

"What was that she called you? I don't think that was a name," Vladimir continued. Although it was dimly lit where he sat, it was enough to see him by- his immense figure was draped in rich red robes, and one ring-laden hand was wrapped about a glass of dark wine. "A profession, possibly, or a term of respect, but not a name. Or perhaps a preferred sexual role?" The Baron examined the Master, wearing one his in incongruently cherubic smiles. "In any case, I see you chose to spare yourself the indignity of some of the house-elves more creative methods of fetching students to detention. Will you take wine, or some other refreshment?"

An offer of alcohol was hardly the only indication that this was hardly a by-the-book detention, or even a detention at all according to traditional standards. The silver tray sat by a bottle of wine, several neat lines arranged upon it's white-dusted surface, and assortment of little containers and paraphernalia now occupied the Baron's desk, while Goldfrapp (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Db59QnHJdc) was playing in the background.

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

The music was quite up to the Master's standards, and he definitely approved. The painting, well... he'd seen many worlds in ruin, but he had a horrible unbidden recollection of Gallifrey in flame at the sight of the painting, which he firmly suppressed. On the whole, the decor met his approval quite well. Obviously this offended 'school administrator' knew how to the make the most of the potential intimidation (on lesser beings, that is) of a castle without sacrificing comfort.

Said administrator appeared human, or any of the dozens of similar-looking species in the universe. There was none of the distinct psychic presence of a Time Lord, but of course that would have been nearly impossible.

"Nevertheless, I am known univerally as the Master." His politician's smile was in order here, and he had no doubt it would be recognized for what it was. "I've used scores of aliases, of course, but those are meaningless." He wasn't even comfortable with his old school nickname from the Doctor, he certainly wasn't about to share it with anyone else. "And I hardly need to play-act at power games in my sex life."

He eyed the wine and tray with faint amusement. "That's not courtesy of the viridian harridan that runs the Slytherin bar, is it?"

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

The painting had actually been chosen due to qualities which made it a vague reminder of Giedi Prime, with its colossal, rectangular structure-cities and volcanism. His homeworld was not the most hospitable of places, and some might have deemed whatever wasn't a volcano a ravaged industrial wasteland, but, it was Vladimir's home, and, he was fond of it. There were several other paintings in the room as well, but, most all of these centered around athletic young men wearing very little, if anything at all. There was one wizarding imagine near his desk that was distinctly different, in that the pale, nearly cadaverous man it portrayed was actually clothed- the figure seemed to have a habit of grinning strangely at any viewers, with his pupils in various states of often-unmatched dilation. Most of the time, the man in the painting was lounging about with a distant expression, occasionally taking a moment to pull out a painted silver pillbox in order to sample its two-dimensional contents. The image was ever-so-slightly blurred at all times, as if the individual had failed to hold still at all for posing, and the whole image was possessed of a somewhat psychadelic quality in its ever-shifting colors.

The Baron was indeed human, and although he did actually possess a certain something unusual, this wasn't a obvious psychic presence of any traditionally recognizable sort. There was the fact that humanity had gone through quite a few more millenia of evolution before producing Vladimir, but, there was also the fact that he was anything but an 'accidental' product of breeding. Given that the actual goals of this deliberate breeding process were to appear in his unknown grandson and great-grandson, Vladimir was human, but not a 'normal' one.

Although the Master's posts had suggested that he was not human, he appeared human enough to all appearances. He was rather older than the Baron had been hoping for, but, that had been a gamble, so was nothing to be overly disappointed about. He wasn't unattractive, but, neither was he the Baron's type- this pushed certain notions about what to do with detention from from his mind, probably a very good thing for everyone involved.

The Baron was pleased with the Master's politician's smile- it looked practiced, so, perhaps this individual would prove to be decent conversation. A hard thing to find at Hogwarts, in Vladimir's opinion. Most of the student body was so dull. "It sounds as if you have some experience at being 'The Master', then. Wear a title well enough, and it seems that's all anyone will ever call you. To your face, at least." Another of his own practiced smiles. "I'm sure my enemies have some more colourful names- fat old tyrant, and the like. Just part of leadership. . .but you strike me as the sort who may already know how these things go."

Vladimir shook his head, idly tapping his fingers upon the wine glass he held- although he was clearly paying no attention to the behavior, the inaudible tapping followed a distinct order, first one finger, then another (although not necessarily the one next to it), playing through the whole pattern before repeating again. "Certainly not- the wine is direct from Italy, a very well-aged Amarone. The rest- ahh, I am not certain where the cocaine came from, but it's excellent. Pure as the untrodden snow. And these little treats," here he indicated the assortment of various pill-sized containers, "These were concocted by my marvelous husband- a brilliant chemist, amongst his many other remarkable skills. Ahh, and the Spice, that's from home." He still wasn't sure why he never ran out, but supposed it one of the many remarkable traits of Hogwarts (which it was, given the Baron's technical dependence on the substance). He waved his empty hand at a red chair near his desk. "Sit. Relax- this is detention, so you're detained and might as well. Mopsy- wine for the Master!" He didn't need to add 'and make it quick'- he'd barely finished when the house-elf jumped immediately to the task.

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

There was only one person the Master had ever considered worthy of being called an enemy, but it was a much more complicated relationship than that implied. The current relatively amicable stage was something he was handling with as much care as he could manage. "I've been called a notorious renegade, and a mad tyrant, and I'm sure all sorts of entertaining things, but that's just rabble talking, and then it's just a fun excuse for splashy executions." Sinking into the chair, he took the hastily-filled wineglass and sniffed it like a connoisseur before taking a taste and nodding slightly in approval.

"Cocaine went through a few spells of popularity on Earth, but somehow I managed to miss them. Still, plenty of cokehead staffers at Number 10, whatever the decade. Can't say I thought much of them. And I've never heard of Spice, but from the way you say it I get the impression that I should have."

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

"An excuse for executions, and a strong suggestion that you're probably doing something correctly- depending on the plan, of course." The Baron took a drink of his own wine, briefly reflecting upon his own now-paused plans. At least, he preferred to think of them as on hold, as he wasn't sure that anyone back home could have managed to finish them without him. "It sounds as if you have some experience in leadership, wherever you're from. It's always interesting to meet another individual at Hogwarts who is familiar with the game of power." Vladimir wasn't certain if placing (or not placing) caganers in the school hallways was a very promising suggestion of ability in that arena, but, to all appearances, the Master was simply amusing himself- thus, it wasn't much to assess his abilities by. Hogwarts was basically an extended vacation inflicted upon its residents, and one had to pass the time somehow.

The music faded into a Daft Punk (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ap7uGtw4QLc) song as the Baron replied, "I believe that we're in a somewhat popular spell, although the histories indicate that it's recent height in popularity was about thirty years ago. I care little for popularity, however- I prefer quality. Besides, popularity can be a bit dangerous." A short, deep chuckle followed by the faintest ghost of a wistful sigh as he thought about Leto, and the immanent moment of triumph that had been paused by his arrival at Hogwarts. "If you return- you might want to think more of your cokehead staffers. You already know exactly what makes them tick- always convenient." Although Vladimir enjoyed his substances, other than the Spice, he had no specific fixation on any given one- that was not to be said for his own staffers, whose favorite vices he encouraged. Despite the bill, where Piter was involved. It was technically a pittance, and, worth it.

"Depending on where you're from- and I'd wager it's not whatever universe the Imperium inhabits- you possibly shouldn't have heard of Spice. Perhaps it only exists in the universe I hail from, which seems to be some variant of this one." Vladimir had gotten to rather enjoy contemplating the cosmological possibilities suggested by Hogwarts. "It may be that Arrakis is floating somewhere out there, undiscovered by these planet-bound humans. Or it's not. If you are a connoisseur of experiences, however, the Spice is something that is not to be missed- in sensible dosage of course. Overdoses are generally lethal- if not quickly, eventually for many. A non-lethal overdose is almost certain to cause addiction, and the Spice is expensive. A tiny dose merely promotes health and staves off the wear of aging to some extent. A bit more, a pleasant high. The right dose, however. . .the right dose, that can be a thing of absolute beauty."

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The Master eyed the Baron's expression and the tone of his voice as he spoke and made a few educated guesses; he seemed to be an earnest devotee of the sort of the power games the Master only dabbled in as the means to an end. What he couldn't be sure of yet was to their relative levels of skill. It was much harder, he thought sullenly, without the man's native context about him.

"Oh, I'm quite good at sorting out what makes peoples tick. Individuals, cultures, worlds... it's all in having the right key. I can see how that Spice of yours would click a lot of mental gears. And not just," he giggled, "Because it sounds like a fabulous murder weapon. I take it there are tight controls on supply?"

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

The Baron didn't tend to make discerning nuances about himself easy- this was only partially deliberate, given that complexity was just part of his intrinsic personality, as were his manipulative tendencies. It was just what he did. It was also a necessity if a House was to both rise and survive in the Imperium, and House Harkonnen had done just that. It had not been a smooth ascendancy, harried as it was by various incidents and scandals over the millenia, but they'd clawed their way up again each time. Vladimir himself had been responsible for a respectable amount of upward motion. It was enough that he was now moving forward to engage in the top battle of the game, ready to seek the Imperial throne itself for his House, his heir if not himself.

The Spice had been key to that upward motion. So had furred whales and a great deal of plotting, naturally containing all the things that come with it. Poisons, assassins, sabotaging Suk doctors- the usual. Not that turning a Suk was truly usual. It was impossible due to the unbreakable Imperial Conditioning. Vladimir simply hadn't let that detail get in his way. Once again, it was just finding the right key. Or keys- he'd had a little assistance from his favorite knife and key in one on that little project. "Ahhh. . . I'm not so sure that the Spice itself is a fabulous murder weapon- the price would be ridiculous when death can be bought so cheaply- but, I know it can make an exceptional one. Still expensive, but a far better value. The Spice supply is indeed tightly controlled, as you presume."

The Master's question was an ideal key to turn the lock he wondered about- he was about to receive some native context. But first, the Baron set aside his glass a brief moment, enjoying a quick line before continuing. "The substance is found on only one planet, and, serves beyond the uses I've already detailed. Those are its lesser uses- it also forms the basis of space travel. Without it, the Guild Navigators would be unable to bend space, and, the Imperium would collapse. It is much like oil in this world, in that respect." He pushed the tray towards the Master, with a wave of his hand that clearly indicated he might sample it at will. Only white powder dusted the tray, but, the Baron reached into some hidden pocket of his robes to pull out a tiny gilded canister- as he opened this, the cinnamon-like aroma of the Spice laced the air. "So it's amazingly valuable and the single planet where it is found does not give it up that easily. The whole thing's a desert, inhabited by a few scattered natives, and a lot of sandworms. The big ones can swallow a harvester easily. Some have been recorded at nearly a half-kilometer in length, and, they always come when the Spice is harvested. Then there's the storms, and the deep desert, where it's all worse." The Baron's smile indicated that 'worse' was a good thing, in his opinion. And it was- no one could survive the deep desert (or so he thought.)

"My House has excellent to the Spice, however- we hold the contract to Arrakis. It's a hellhole, but, it's still the most beautiful possession in the Imperium." As far as Vladimir was concerned, the transfer to Leto had all been an elaborate dupe- sure, the paperwork had said it was Leto's, and at the moment he'd left his own world, the Atreides still technically held it- but, he was holding the Atreides family, his soldiers were taking care of the rest (with a bit of covert Imperial support) and, the play was nearly over. The papers would bear the right name again soon enough. Provided no one screwed anything up, if life was actually going on his absence.

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

He ignored the cocaine; he'd never been curious enough to study its effects on Time Lord physiology. It had been a tool for occasional blackmail, something to turn a seeming blind eye to to make underlings sweat. Spice sounded, indeed, like the sort of drug empires rose and fell around. He wondered idly if in his native universe, the Time Lords had wiped it out at the source. He noted the care with which the Baron handled the ornate little container; clearly precious, when he seemed profligate with drugs that mattered less to him.

"It sounds like your civilization's utterly dependent on the stuff. Wouldn't it do you more good to get a proper efficient stardrive? That would lessen your personal need for the stuff and make everyone else's squabbling much more entertaining."

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

((Valentine's inclusion in the exposition matter is with permission =D))

The Baron wasn't offended by the Master's choice to not accept his powdery hospitality- to each their own, in such things. Besides, that left more for himself- not that more wasn't easy enough to come by, especially with a bit of wizarding transport involved. That concept had lead to an excellent inflow of both money and substances for Valentine and himself in recent months. It was amazing how simple and efficient a chemical-based operation was with a private floo network, a hub on the 'non-existent' Aurora Islands, and house-elves. Add Valentine's own remarkable skills with chemistry and potions into that, and they'd ended up with exceptional, magic-laced products with virtually no distribution cost. As all the wheels were in place, it only made sense to use a few Muggle-world connections they'd made to add a cartel component to the whole operation. For a fee, they'd move other product, provided no questions were ever asked, and the fees were met in full. The Baron could easily afford to be extravagant with anything that wasn't Spice.

As his Hogwarts supply never did seem to diminish, he could technically have been more extravagant with it as well, but, habit was a deeply-ingrained thing. Spice was precious, its cinnamon fragrance the smell of power. "Utterly dependent, indeed- which is not so bad for the one who controls it. Our interstellar vessels do not use a stardrive- they use Navigators, and Steersmen. It is they who require the Spice, massive amounts of it- no one knows what they are now, but, once they were human. The Spice changed that, and, enables the Guild Navigators to bend space. It's instantaneous travel, and it is difficult to get more efficient than that. The universe is a technological one- no magic, dragons, or demons. Somehow we didn't even meet aliens, which appear to be common at Hogwarts." He eyed the Master for a moment- there was no outward indication at all that he was inhuman. But, who was to say that lines of evolution on various planets may not have taken a similar turn- or were possibly even linked. "From our discourse earlier, I gathered that you are what humans would consider an alien. We don't tend to use the phrase 'human traditions' when referring to our own." The Master was proving to be less dull than many, and he was curious to know more about his 'detention' guest.

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

The Master didn't bother holding back a smug laugh at the description of his host's native technology. "Bending space is a good trick, but still, there are dozens of variations on warp drives and hyperspace engines. Of course, my people used the Time Vortex for transportation. Hard to get more efficient than five minutes ago." He winked.

"I've encountered quite a few forms of technology that were exotic enough to seem like magic, and alien races close enough to the human concepts of dragons and demons to make no real difference. This planet... or possibly its equivalent, I rather suspect this is an odd alternate reality... is a gradually emerging backwater. My only real interest in it is the fascination it holds for someone else. It does have a few charming quirks, though. As disappointing as it was to have my most spectacular conquest of it reversed, there are worse places to hole up for a while."

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

'Time Vortex' elicited a similar undisguised smirk and chuckle from the Baron- a fun name, 'Time Vortex'. At the moment, under the influence of several different but complementary substances, the two words resembled a colorful, fractalized array of whirlpool-like traceries. The word 'vortex' was also somehow inescapably blue-violet in colour, while 'time' was a complex prismatic array. It was a pleasant bit of synaesthetic mirage, and, the Baron was content to leave it at that, rather than pressing for details about it. They most likely wouldn't apply to this universe or his native one anyway, at least not this local occurrence of it. He suspected it was probably one of those 'like magic' techs from his perspective- obviously, it wouldn't seem as such to the Master. He suspected that the Holtzman Effect of his own universe, which was responsible for the technological basis of a diverse number of seemingly unrelated things, was similar- it was involved in the technical basis for space travel, personal shields, suspensors like the ones he wore, and so forth.

The Spice pretty much fell under this too, although the precise extent of this 'magic' was known only to the Reverend Mothers of the Bene Gesserit (and their prodigal but very-much-intentional spawn, such as the Reverend Mothers of Arrakis). The whole 'kwisatz haderach' concept was unknown to anyone outside of that order and their ilk, so the Baron was quite unaware that he was in fact part of a semi-mystical multi-millenium breeding experiment intended to produce what amounted to a Spice-triggered superbeing. It was possible that he might have come further along that course personally with different influences and foci, but, the Baron had focused upon mastering the political game instead of bothering with mysticisms. "Ahhh, variants are good- it's always nice to have something entirely unexpected around. But, there's something to be said for rigid systems, too. They're easier to exploit than chaos."

Vladimir could not help but smile to hear that this man he was chatting with had conquered the Earth in some variant universe. He'd only just met the Master, but, had a feeling that this had to have been a quite bemusing event from an outsider's perspective. He had no reason to disbelieve it- the Master did appear to believe what he was saying, and, Hogwarts did have a way of gathering individuals who'd done unusual or exceptional things. "I suppose you don't have a record of that conquest? I expect it might be diverting. The people of this world tend to have amusing reactions. Were they still stuck on ballistic and explosive weapons at the time? Although their weapons are primitive, they do have a distinct barbaric charm." And the basic concepts could be quite effective, even in his day.

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"Most of my visits to this planet have been during their fascination with bullets," he said with a wry chuckle. "And a phenomenal ability to deny things outside their everyday worldview. And, really, the best mix of order and chaos. If you've got a pensieve I can show you directly." He'd actually been working on memory-storage devices inspired by pensieves, but he didn't think this Professor needed to know that just yet, and he wasn't sure if he cared to try mind-to-mind contact. It could be a bit tricky with humans; their brains didn't accept it as readily most of the time, and it could take a bit of finesse to reveal just what was desired, no more, no less. "The first of my Toclafane killing the American president was broadcast on worldwide television." And that bit hadn't been erased from history. Delightful.

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

"The ballistics might be primitive, but, they are still amusing. A while back I had a Muggle Studies class about them- the no-kill spell's often an irritation, but, I made the most of it by having a little 'war game'. Most of the students were hopeless, of course, but, it was still a good distraction. Especially once the dragon showed up!" The Baron chuckled, and finished off his glass of wine. He didn't bother with telling Mopsy to refill his own glass- rather, he drew forth his wand and flicked it at the bottle, which manged the refilling act by itself. A step faster, and just as easy as ordering around a house-elf, if not easier. "I did manage to get it all on videotape, although it gets a bit jumbled by the end." He'd been his own cameraman, and with a dragon bearing down upon himself and Valentine, keeping the camera steady had become a forgotten detail.

Vladimir laughed to hear about televised presidential assassinations, genuinely entertained. "Ahhh, now that's a beautiful bit of assassination there- so very apt, given the American obsession with reality television! I expect it got exceptionally high ratings on the re-runs. Unfortunately, I don't have a 'penseive'. Should I have one? It sounds as if I should have one." Penseives weren't all that common in the Wizarding world or so Vlad's mun presumes, not exactly the sort of thing that was on regular display at Dervish & Banges. It was very likely that they'd be getting an order for one soon, however- Vladimir was certain to see the potential of a penseive.

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"Pensieves are useful enough in their way. They store memories. Useful if you want to rid yourself of the emotional weight of them, and even more useful for viewing them as if they were freshly occurring. Severely lacking in customizability, but there are some areas where technology will always be superior to magic."

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

Vladimir wasn't sure that relieving the emotional weight of memories counted as 'useful'. The philosophical code of a order from a universe entirely different from his own, which began "Peace is a lie, there is only passion", would have summed up his opinion on what one was to do with emotion pretty well. But, he was not a Sith, nor did his universe contain them, so, failed to have a nice, concise little mantra with which to explain his opinion about relieving emotional weight other than, "Bah, weaklings rid themselves of 'emotional weight'. A smart man puts it to use. But viewing memories as if they were occurring? Ahhhh, that. . . that is very intriguing. Very intriguing indeed. Even without a great deal of customization ability, it would be worth a great deal to review a memory and notice that little detail you'd missed before, eh? As for tech and magic- Hogwarts suggests it's all a matter of perspective. These silly little sticks," the Baron pulled out his wand again, "They're a technology. A seemingly ridiculous one, for those of us who hail from universes based upon concrete physical observations. But, who's to say there's not a subtle science going on, which operates here just fine?" He smirked, adding, "I seem to have found a somewhat philosophical blend of chemicals today. I blame the Spice." That this was a purely theatrical 'blame' was evident by the Baron tapping a tiny bit of the Spice into his wine glass. "Care to sample some?"

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"It inspired my latest project, though. Not really meant for storage, and a more flexible output." He smirked; maybe he would be able to observe the effects of his preliminary design on two minds.

"I've certainly played up the supernatural angle a few times," he said wistfully. He'd especially enjoyed being a demon-summoning vicar. "Yes," he said impulsively, "I'd like to try this fabled Spice."

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

"A project based on this notion, hrm? This sounds interesting- especially the flexible output part. I'd like to hear more." A curious smile- genuine, not political. Given the obvious potential applications of a memory-replay device, the Baron was liable to be inclined to play test subject if offered the opportunity. Of course, he was likely to try and leverage this to obtain a copy of a finalized design for himself.

Vladimir's smile lingered as the Master expressed his interest in the Spice- at Hogwarts, the Baron enjoyed sharing the substance with people he found interesting. As he flicked his wand to direct the wine bottle to top off the Master's glass, he mused that the uncharacteristic spirit of sharing that struck him where the Spice was concerned likely had its roots in vanity. He beckoned the Master over so that he could tap a bit of the precious substance into his wine, contemplating the Spice as the condensed essence of the universe he called his own. And Vladimir did in fact consider it his, even without the title of Emperor. He controlled the Spice (or so he thought, being entirely unaware of a suprise Messiah-grandson in his future).

The amount of Spice he added to the Master's cup was similar to the amount he'd added to his own- the 'pleasant high' quantity, for most. Although it might have been amusing to surprise someone with an unexpected trip of mind-exploding potential, the Baron was enjoying his new conversation companion. If the Master found the Spice to his liking and desired an experience of greater intensity, it could always be arranged. "It is impossible to say exactly how much this dose will affect you, but for human biology, that amount should equal a pleasant high. It's impossible to predict the exact nature of that high. Spice is. . .changeable. Even the taste of the Spice is slightly different every time."

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

Before taking a sip, the Master took a careful sniff; his advanced senses detected entirely unfamiliar compounds, complex organic molecules far beyond the relatively simple drugs most species used. There didn't seem to be any of the alkaloids his race was especially vulnerable to, so he followed it up with a slow, small sip, putting his sense of taste to work to further analyze the much-hyped compound.

A brief giddiness seized him. It was reminiscent of gazing into shifting fractals while surrendering to a wave of psychedelic distraction. It was almost as if the Spice was actively warping his ability to analyze it!

He dismissed the fanciful notion, his thoughts clearing a bit as he returned his focus to the conversation.

"Ive used an iPad as the base for the device. It's mainly meant to induce a fine-tuned trance state, allowing for hypnotic recall. Nothing that can't be achieved with the right combination of innate psychic ability and meditative skill, but I'm not sure if humans are even capable of that level of trance without outside guidance." His own motive was to free up the concentration needed to control that level of mental exploration in order to better focus on his ongoing obsessive analysis of his brain and attempts to sort out possible aftereffects of... interference. But that wasn't something he cared to discuss with anyone.

He took another sip of the Spice-laced wine, the initial giddy rush mellowing into a more mildly enjoyable light intoxication. "I'd love to get a sample of this stuff to a proper laboratory," he sighed. "I don't think the technology I'd need to study it properly exists on this world." And, although he would be loath to admit it, would likely beyond his ability to construct. It simply wasn't a field he'd had time to fully devote himself to.

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

The Baron savored a draught of his own spiced wine as the music shifted over to a somewhat more ambient instrumental piece. The Von Spar (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhS543u2Y0w) seemed an appropriate complement to the drug cocktail, and, he sank back into his shadowy seat as he watched the Master's reaction to the melange with half-lidded eyes. Spice was very familiar to the Baron, so it was simple for him to remain in the mental here-and-now, even without the aid of his of finely-powdered stimulants. As the music grew into something more complex and and immersive, he leaned forward to relieve the tray of another line before returning to his formerly relaxed position. Of course, he was not entirely relaxed despite his outward demeanor- he rarely was, especially when meeting a new individual. One didn't live long in the Imperium without a certain amount of carefully managed paranoia. The management was key- one also couldn't let the paranoia get in the way of a good time. It was simple enough to shuffle this trait to a nearly subconscious level after a lifetime of practice.

"I've seen these iPads- a viewing device combined with a primitive thinking machine, and communication capacities." As Muggle Studies professor, it was Vladimir's duty to keep up with Muggle subjects, and, as the Baron Harkonnen, it was his duty to exploit the former duty to the fullest extent possible. The Maury Povich Fund had paid for many a piece of Earth technology, some of which ended up in the Muggle Studies classroom, but other pieces had predictably made their way to the Baron's office and apartments. "They didn't strike me as all that useful. Very basic things, but, I can see where they might prove a good basis for a more involved technology. Portable and easy to interface with, by this world's standards."

"Hypnotic recall, eh?" The Baron took another drink. "Never been fond of hypnosis- but hypnotic recall isn't exactly hypnosis, is it." It seemed to him there was a difference. He knew enough about the basic concepts of hypnosis to know that his susceptibility was low- that touch of subconscious paranoia meant that he didn't want to be hypnotized, a rather key component in most hypnosis. The Bene Gesserit worked their manipulations upon noble youth at an exceedingly young age- infancy even- likely in part to reduce any resistance. He was not well-acquainted with the Sisterhood of whores, but very much by choice. It hadn't kept them from their one success, enabled by their implanted mental triggers. After that, the Baron had remained extra-alert in this arena. It was long ago, but, that only meant it was more effortless and deeply ingrained. But hypnotic recall? This would suggest rendering the hypnotic control over to the self, not to another. That seemed different. Perhaps it was worth a try? "Seems to me that hypnotic recall would be a very individual experience- that might make it a more widely accessible device. Not many are going to want to grant a machine any sort of mental control." This one was deeply ingrained in most everyone in the Imperium, given the Butlerian Jihad's effect on culture. "What's the trance-induction based on?"

"A sample is easily arranged. But, I suspect you'll get more out of enjoying it than analyzing it." He smirked, his fingers once more taking up their unconscious, silent tapping upon his glass as he explained, "Where I come from, we've studied it for millenia. We've discovered those many uses for it, but, no progress at all has been made in synthesizing it. Many attempts have been made. Not that I am one to complain- I'm more than content for the sands of Arrakis to remain its only source."

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"Hypnosis has always been a specialty of mine," the Master said, grinning. Now that he wasn't trying to concentrate too hard on studying the effects of the Spice on his brain, the dizzying mental recursion had faded to a pleasant inclination to relax. He was far too canny to let the drugged calm lull him into letting his guard down, and far too hedonistic to let caution keep him from enjoying the sensation. "Made some wonderful strides with low-level subliminal mass mesmerism a while back." It had backfired on him of course, but when the Doctor came up with such clever ways of foiling him it was almost worth it to watch his mind work.

"I don't usually bother with external aids to trance induction, but for this..." The Master shrugged. It would take far more than his current mild buzz to get him to tell anyone why he was making the exception. "Mild infrasonics and shifting image patterns; I've enhanced the camera on the device enough to enable optical scans for a better feedback loop."

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"My civilization utilizes disciplines based on various mental techniques, some which might qualify as similar to your 'hypnotic recall' idea- the mentat states, mainly. But, we haven't bothered with mass mesmerism. I can see where the idea has some potential. Sounds like a potentially efficient way to quell a riot. Might even be useful on the battlefield, once or twice." After the first couple of uses, a surprise weapon tended to lose some of its sting, what with measures would logically be taken to defend against it in the future. The Baron could also think of some other uses for hypnotic induction- namely the amusement it might provide with a room full of attractive young slaves. One wasn't always in the mood for wrestling the new ones into submission, after all. He kept this potential use for mass-mesmerism to himself, however. Not out of any sense of decency, but rather because he was more interested in the more practical applications of the technologies being discussed at the time.

The use of infrasonics and certain patterns seemed a valid enough theory- combined with feedback, Vladimir could see where it might be an effective trance-assist. Especially with the right drugs involved. "The external aids are sensible. Maybe it's different for your species, but, the susceptibility of the human brain to hypnosis is directly affected by the human's level of desire to be hypnotized. Even if we're doing it to ourselves, that catch comes into play." In spite of this, Vladmir remained intrigued. "So. . .do you have this device with you? Or, would you need a house-elf to fetch it? I am interested to see this. To try it, if it's functioning."

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"The one I'm currently tinkering with has all the controls labeled in my native language," he said with a shrug, "But I could certainly send a house elf to fetch it for a demonstration." He quirked an eyebrow at the Baron's obviously cowed house elf with a glint in his eye that had been familiar to the prisoners on the Valiant.

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"I doubt the language on the controls matters much. Have you considered skipping labels altogether?" In the Baron's experience, advanced tech tended toward the whole 'form follows function' philosophy, and, the language on labels seemed a very minor point. He was of the opinion that much of the Earth tech he encountered had ridiculous controls- excessive buttons and labels everywhere, where a few well-positioned buttons with intuitive multiple functions might have served just as well. "I would like a demonstration very much. Mopsy!" The house-elf jumped to attention immediately. "Have this modified iPad device fetched for the Master."

Although Mospy was indeed cowed, that the Baron treated her slightly different that house-elves that were not personally assigned to him was clearly evident. The dish towel she wore was red, trimmed with gold on the edges, and, like many a slave who'd found themselves in a position which seemed slightly elevated over the rest, it had gone to her head a bit where the other house-elves were concerned. Vladimir had of course counted on this in his treatment of Mopsy- it meant he only ever had to explain anything to one house-elf, ensuring efficiency whenever her brethren were required on a task. It also ensured that she'd be liable to perform to the best of her abilities, knowing that she could easily have her fancy little towel swapped for a dingy old brown one at any moment- while finding herself beneath a house-elf that she may well have recently bullied. Or, perhaps she'd find herself a subject for Valentine's little chemical experiments. In any case, the manipulation of social order was often a better tool for keeping slaves in line than the whip, especially for a house slave. There was little point to bothering with anything other than the whip where pit slaves were involved- expandability was the whole point, there. That Mopsy's training had been extremely effective was swiftly proven, as she utilized her house-elf magic to port in a somewhat confused, and far-more-cowed house elf, who seemed nearly as terrified of her as she was of the Baron- needless to say, the elf did not linger to ask questions upon receiving his orders.

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House elf relations not being especially interesting to him, the Master merely waited until he had the device at hand. He didn't bother trying to decipher the Gallifreyan control symbols. "The audiovisual display mode was too simple a function not to include," he said, tapping a few icons. "This just reads it through the camera focused on the optic nerve." He showed a few choice moments of his time as Prime Minister Harry Saxon, lingering over the Toclafane turning on the American president, since the idea had seemed to amuse the Baron so.

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With the device delivered, Mopsy sent off the other elf, and made herself scarce again. Vladimir ignored them both, taking a good look at the thing as the Master tapped at the icons- it didn't look all that complex. Which was far better design than many of the controls lying around the Muggle studies classroom, many of which contained buttons that he'd never once had occasion to use. Embedding the functions down a layers would have streamlined so much.

This device, however, looked basically streamlined for what it was, and, it did appear to perform its function. Or a function, at least- the Baron figured he couldn't know that it actually recorded memories without giving it a try himself. But, that proof could wait- Vladimir watched a group of individuals clad in the fashions popular with Earth's current upper and ruling classes- the Master was in evidence in the scene, although he didn't appear to be in charge at the start- some individual with an American accent had the primary visual position. And some talking spheres, which were some sort of thinking machines, perhaps? The Baron laughed as the scene took an abrupt turn, with the Master declaring his leadership over the spheres, which in turn basically disintegrated the American- the previously-mentioned president, presumably. He of course laughed all the more at this visual, commenting, "Ahhh, now that's a way to get rid of the competition! Very nice work." No sarcasm there, but rather a very high complement coming from the Baron. "What are the spheres, aliens? Some type of thinking machine?"

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"Oh no," the Master said with a sudden but brief forceful giggle. "The brains in those beauties are human. The traumatized, emotionally stunted, last humans from the very end of time. Final embers in a universe going out, and I brought them back, to destroy their own forebears."

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"Interesting," the Baron remarked, inwardly musing about the many ways that human civilization was supposedly going to end. An amused half-smile creased his lips- the Master's sadistic little giggle reminded him a bit of a certain someone back home. Piter would have found this concept equally entertaining. All in all, he was quite pleased with his decision to impose 'detention' upon the Master. It was proving fun. "That's one way for the world to end. In some other universe, it's going to be all sex and parties, according to one Jherek Carnelian. Hard to say how mine's going to go- we avoided the 'destroyed by thinking machines' fate already, although I'm sure Ix would be pleased to throw people's heads into mechanical spheres." Vladimir was completely unaware that civilization as he knew it wasn't going to last that much longer- had he known that it was his mutated great-grandson who'd do this, he'd have been so proud, despite the Atreides name. "So, do you have any memories of these sphere-people destroying the rest of their ancestors? I'm inclined to think this would be a good show."

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"Oh, I had a good year of mercilessly grinding the planet under my heel." A few more recorded images flickered over the screen.




"So much time to gloat, and to play. All the classic games, pushed further than ever."



"Of course, it's always worth it when the Doctor manages to pull off something so spectacular, but a literal reset, oh, that was worth watching. And I still had the final ace up my sleeve." He giggled again, the Spice perhaps loosening his judgment a bit.

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The Baron watched the iPad screen intently- at first, he thought that the Master had added a soundtrack to his memories, but, it quickly became apparent that the soundtrack was very much part of the whole memory. "Nice choice of music- quite a respectable base you've got there as well. Is that Time Vortex tech, or, alternate Earth tech?" This was overlording with panache, and, he wholeheartedly approved. The Master seemed to be having a splendid time, everyone else seemed well subdued and terrified, and he supposed that the ancient-looking man was an enemy or rival being tormented. He didn't look like much as rivals went, but Vladimir knew quite well that looks were nothing to go on. He was used to be assessed based on appearance- his was quite deliberately cultivated, partly to throw people's assessments. "Toclafane- that's the brains in the death balls? All in all it seems like an amazingly efficient idea." And not technically in defiance of the Butlerian Jihad dictates either- the 'thinking' aspect of the machines was technically human. But surely, a brain in a death ball would be simple to control, possessing nothing in the way of body-stimulated needs and desires. It made for an interesting line of contemplation.

He continued watching, now somewhat bewildered by what appeared to be a house-elf in a cage. "A house-elf? Why do you have a caged house-elf? There's better things to keep in cages. The blonde in red there, perhaps. Not my type, but I can see that she'd go over well with many." He didn't stick on this point for long though, as things were getting more exciting. "Aaaah, now that's a lot of rockets. . . ha! And a sky filled with death balls. Very nice. Very nice indeed." Vladimir was expecting some serious fireworks, when the tone of the memory began shifting, the focus on a woman who clearly fell under the definition of 'meddlesome', and a countdown-to-something. The fireworks, presumably. . .but no, wait. . .a doctor? He was about to ask 'what the hell's this about a doctor' when the house-elf underwent a curious transformation. Vladimir wasn't entirely sure if this memory was something that the Master was intending to show off, as the following events did seem to expose a certain weakness, but, it was also proving educational. The former-house elf apparently was this 'Doctor', and one-in-the-same as the old man from before. But why had the Master made him a house-elf? This new form was much preferable, and, probably would have been quite nice in a cage, fully stripped down. Especially in light of the interesting tension that seemed to exist between the Master and this 'Doctor'. . .

As the memories shifted again, it became rather clear that the Master wasn't attempting to show off an especially flashy victory. Especially when the blonde shot him. "Looks like she should have been in the cage," he commented. "But seems like you had a damn good run while it lasted." The memories didn't end there, though, as, dying was rarely instantaneous- the 'tension' between the Master and his rival was proving interesting indeed. . . as the memory faded out, the Baron had to laugh, impressed- the Master may have gone down, but, he'd gone down well, bringing his rival to tears. Tears! "You made him cry. Cry." The Baron liked to hope that he'd inflicted at least a private tear or two upon Duke Leto, via the planted evidence that would ideally lead the Atreides to believe that Leto's beloved concubine was a traitor. But, that was the best he'd ever be able to hope for in that arena. Bringing a rival to tears by dying on them? That was some sort of victory, and a rare one that, and the Master deserved credit where credit was due. "Brilliantly done, even if the price was rather steep."

Impressed as he was by this strange victory, it was impossible for him not to return to a previous point. "But. . .why a house-elf? Seems to me that this Doctor would have looked ideal in a cage, once stripped down a bit. A bit distracting, perhaps, but I think that's what drapes are for."

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"That was before I'd encountered any house-elves, of course," the Master chuckled, taking a probably-unwisely-large swig of his Spice-laced wine. "The Doctor and I, we have history. Centuries. He's so bloody frustrating... especially when he showed up at the end of the universe with the nerve to look like that." It occurred to him that he hadn't explained regeneration to the Baron, but he didn't want to veer off the topic at hand. "Wouldn't have been able to teach him the lesson I needed to if I'd had him looking helpless and pretty... so of course I had to age him like that, and that wizened gnome look at the end was just... well, that was just because it was funny. Turning the Archangel network on me like that, oh, he's so clever. He would have been insufferable if I'd let him take me captive like that."

Not that the temptation hadn't been there. Lucy really had been useful. "I had safeguards in place, of course. It wasn't long before I was resurrected... you'd have thought he'd have been expecting it, really." He sighed. The memories of that were a bit too revealing. "He's frustrating enough here."

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"I don't think I'll ever understand house-elves," the Baron remarked. "All this magic, and the best they come up with for a slave race is house-elves. They're efficient, I'll give them that. But perhaps it's the distraction factor- these primitive humans are very easily distracted. Even by their own property. . . I just don't get that." Emphasis on 'own'- other people's property was often a perfectly respectable distraction. He drained off a good portion of his own wine, used to the accompanying rush of Spice. That the Master was obviously feeling his Spice was apparent in his rather personal revelations, but, it wasn't anything that Vladimir couldn't have deduced from his glimpses of the Master's memories. Except for the 'centuries' part- it appeared he was one of those lucky species blessed with a youthful sort of longevity. 'Looking like that' was a somewhat curious comment, as was the resurrection bit, but, Vladimir was already acquainted with Jherek Carnelian. . .who also hailed from some Time-obsessed culture. He briefly wondered if there were any links between this Doctor and Master and Jherek's sort.

With all this talk about pretty rivals and their distraction qualities, it was difficult to avoid thoughts of his own object of frustrations back home. He didn't really have 'history' with Paul Atreides, persay- the Imperium's vendettas were rather cold things in practice, what with most interaction being impersonal, and actually being in the presence of one another rare. Paul was also quite young, so, there hadn't been much time to cultivate anything resembling history. The history between House Harkonnen and House Atreides was ancient however, going back millenia- it was a extremely personal matter for all involved, especially in light of the body count. Actually offing a family member was a rarity, given Imperial laws on how these things were to be conducted, but, anyone else was in much more flexible position. During a full hostile takeover, however, the entirety of the family needed to be eliminated, and without so much as a fleck of blood on his own hands. There were always truthsayers to deal with in these things.

"What is it about beautiful rivals that is so exquisitely frustrating?" A sigh, of genuine regret. "If I find myself back home, I'll be tossing mine into the desert for the worms. He's too damn inconvenient to keep around, but it'll be such a waste. He's still so young, the same age my nephew. But, I can't very well kill the father and not the son." Especially not with the training imparted by his witch-mother. Vladimir could care less about the Imperial rules for what they were- no one would have need known that he'd kept the son of Leto for himself. But, in this case, they were keeping his sensibilities in check.

He smirked before finishing off the remainder of his glass, well-aware of his own reciprocal forthcomingness. But at Hogwarts, it hardly seemed to matter, and it wasn't as if it stemmed from some sudden surge of actual empathy. There was certainly some sense of rapport with the Master that he seemed to be enjoying, but, mainly it was the cocaine. "This Doctor's here, is he? Somehow, I've never noticed him around. I'm pretty sure I'd have remembered."

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"Oh, the beautiful part is as much of a problem as it is a bonus," The Master mused, feeling a wave of nostalgia. "He was going around looking like an eminently debauchable schoolboy for a while, but of all the people he's been..." He didn't care that the Baron wouldn't be able to follow his train of thought. The pressures and occasional drastic revelations brought about by regeneration were only relevant if a Time Lord were involved. "Intelligent is much better. If someone's going to be foiling my plans it should at least be a delight to see what sort of things they can come up with, after all. And the Doctor's scheming can be glorious... it's even better when we work together." Ah, now that reminded him of old times indeed, when he and the Doctor both looked older than they did now to the human eye, but had been so much younger and less scarred. "He'd feel rather compelled to disapprove of you, I'm sure. He certainly disapproves of slave races, and not just because they're impractical in the long run."

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Vladimir didn't really need to follow the Master's train of thought, as stitching together the scraps into something good enough to suffice wasn't all that hard. Obviously this 'Doctor' changed appearances. Possibly even identities, what with 'people he's been'. How hardly seemed to matter, not when Hogwarts had proven that different universes meant different rules. The possible identity shifting was a bit odd- Vladimir had yet to meet a shapeshifter whose ego was affected by the process to the point of actually being an entirely different person- but, it didn't seem impossible. Nothing seemed impossible at Hogwarts.

"A debauchable schoolboy, eh? He should stick with that one, if he's here. But an intelligent adversary is far more interesting than a stupid one, that's true. There are few things more irritating than stupidity." He smirked as he magically refilled his glass, sending the bottle over to hover beside the Master to top off his own glass. "Not that this will be much of a problem in the Imperium." Technically, the Baron's Imperium did appear to exist in some version of this universe's future. "I'm pretty sure that most of the Houses have weeded out as much stupidity as possible." Even his nephew Rabban wasn't stupid. Just exceedingly blunt, and, possessed of a singular method of problem-solving. A tank-brain, but, one that had its uses.

"Says him," the Baron replied, occasionally given to bluntness himself, although mainly in conversation. When it came to schemes, he preferred the intricate. "Perhaps it's no good for whatever system he hails from, but, slavery's been proven practical in the Imperium. I could care less about approval- but practicality varies based upon circumstance. Not all Houses utilize it for industry, but, it's their own bank accounts that suffer. We don't use robots, you see- no 'thinking machines' of any sort, unless you count our human alternatives." The Baron had long been intrigued by the old thinking machines, but, of all the Imperium's laws, the Butlerian Jihad ones were perhaps the most deeply embedded in the culture. "So, slavery's pretty much required to milk maximum profit from any industrial ventures." Slavery had embedded itself pretty deep as well, and the reality of slavery in the Imperium was something quite complex- work and pleasure slaves were purchased, but, mentats were also purchased. So were Bene Gesserit concubines, and Suk doctors. They may not have called themselves 'slaves', but purchased was purchased. Even a House who didn't use slave workers had likely purchased an individual at some point, and some of these purchased individuals would end up holding important positions within a household.

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"Oh, he wore it well. Old-fashioned, too. You could easily imagine stripes from a strict caning under that cricket getup he affected at the time." It really had been fun to upset him in those days, and the Master himself had been newly-rebodied by less orthodox means himself. "And pragmatic enough to watch me burn alive. No, I'm rather taken with the huge dark expressive eyes for now. Expressive face in general, and nicely limber..." And still maddening, of course, but that went with the territory.

"Was your Imperium short on metals? Once you've reached a certain level of technology it's just cheaper to built robots than feed slaves. And drugs instead of stardrives... must be hell getting anything accomplished where you're from."

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"So which one is he at Hogwarts? The debauchable schoolboy, or the one with the pretty eyes- or someone else?" Now that he'd met the Master, keeping an eye out for this Doctor seemed a good idea. Knowing the individuals involved in the reality-dramas of Hogwarts made the soap opera all the more interesting. As the Master had suggested that this Doctor wouldn't approve of him, meeting him was practically a necessity. Vladimir relished disapproval, especially the disapproval of the mainstream, and back in the Imperium he'd always found a great deal of pleasure in flaunting his debauchery and non-conformity. At Hogwarts, people in general seemed somewhat more open minded, so, a quality source of actual disapproval sounded like a delightful thing to have around. "I think I'd like to meet this Doctor. I've never cared much about approval."

"Short on metals?" A snort of laughter. "Hardly. I could make a pretty good dent in the supply if I chose to cease production on Giedi Prime, but that would be both stupid and temporary. CHOAM would just send some more cooperative House to strip some other planet, and, that's hardly a way to get a directorship, is it? We've got plenty of machines. But they don't run themselves. It's the 'thinking' component that's key- someone's got to operate the damn things. That's where the slaves come in. Everything gets done just fine. Show me how to use that device, and I'll show you." Vladimir took another drink of his wine as the music shifted once again, drifting into a somewhat darker, bass-heavy piece by Moby (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EURL-Sc0s4w). This called for another line, and the Baron paused to indulge in this before explaining, "We had robots, some ten thousand years before my day. They nearly destroyed humanity during the Butlerian Jihad. "Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a human mind." That was the result. Those words stuck- culture and technology grew in a different direction from that point. We made men into thinking machines, instead."

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"Oh, he's made quite a mark on this place," the Master said with a chuckle. "The debauchable schoolboy, the rough trade in the leather jacket, the one with the enormous scarf, the one without eyebrows... as for the one with the pretty eyes, I'll thank you not to interfere. Although you might make me look good by comparison."

He ran a fingertip around the rim of the wineglass. "A powerful and trained mind is always going to have an advantage over any but the most advanced of computers, but letting religious zealots cripple an entire government and tie up brainpower that could be put to much more useful ends? Oh, if I was a do-gooder like the Doctor," (or, he thought to himself, actually interested in longterm conquest on a vast scale instead of the cosmic equivalent of poking things with sticks) "I'd import gravitic hyperdrives, industrial robots, and schematics from a dozen galaxies."

He tapped a few of the icons on the display of the memory device, then slid it towards the Baron. "If you tap the icon two rows down and third from the right and look directly at the display, you can conciously send memories for it to show."

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"I wonder how I've missed him. . . perhaps it's time to have a Muggle Studies class. It's possible I've been a bit too reclusive lately. I've been, ahhhh, distracted." A brief glance at the wizarding portrait of Valentine, who was appearing rather nebulous at the moment. "Oh, I won't interfere- I get the sense that this little drama is nicely arranged already." Vladimir gave the master another of his incongruent smiles, in acceptance of the compliment- as of course he read the Master's words as such. "If I somehow end up with your pretty-eyes Doctor, I'll be sure to let you know, rather than personally interfering. Now this debauchable schoolboy version. . ." A chuckle. He couldn't very well make any promises there, not without knowing exactly what he might be passing up.

"I'd be the last person in the Imperium to complain about some interdimensional do-gooder arriving to wipe out the Sisterhood of Whores- these would be our religious zealots, although they call themselves by a prettier name. The witches are irritating. I keep them out of my House." Although he called them 'irritating', the bitterness in the Baron's voice when he spat out the word coloured it with the abiding hatred he had for the Bene Gesserit. "But, we really don't need the hyperdrives, however, and we have the industrial machines. I doubt anyone would see the need to reinvent a wheel. It's rarely efficient."

The Baron looked over the device closely, before going ahead and tapping at the indicated icon. The first memories he sent were short and simple, consisting of a series of planets- one was dark, possessing little in the way of oceans, and much in the way of volcanism. Areas of the world were covered in the tight splatters of light indicating massive human settlements. Another world, of pure desert. Another, of oceans and ice. Following these scenes was a chaotic stream which focused upon cities and technology. Strange cities of angular metal splattered with light were primary in these vision, stretching for miles on end and rising countless stories in height- it seemed as if whoever dwelt upon the lower levels was doomed to life in some dark industrial box, while the impressive structures atop the city-structures were open to the red-stained skies. Various pieces of tech- vehicles, ornithopters, various frigates intended for surface-to-orbit transport, Guild highliners- these were insanely massive, capable of carrying numerous transport vessels with plenty of room to spare.

After the highliners, the Baron's memories shifted towards the desert planet- here, there were no insane industrial cities. The city his memory focused upon contained an enormous brassy-looking palace, lording over structures that meshed far better with the interminable desert surroundings. The focus was upon these next, as seen from above, in some sort of transport. Far below, a huge industrial machine rested upon the sand. The speck-like figures of men scurrying around it were barely visible. In the distance, a disturbance in the sand was visible, closing in upon the transport with remarkable speed. Within moments, the disturbance was directly beneath the machine, which was now attached to some other machine, which appeared to be attempting to lift it into the air- attempting, because immediately after liftoff, a unfathomably immense mouth broke the surface of the sand, swallowing the machines and their crews entire.

Another abrupt shift in memory returned to the volcanic world, and one of the cities there. This memory was somewhat more drawn out than the rest, and focused upon some young men in an arena (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfoQtWTR9b8), rather than any specific technologies. It was focused upon one of these in particular, a beautiful dark-haired boy, clad in some red satin futuristic variant on hakama. After this memory went on for a time, the Baron noticed that he'd become distracted by his own memories- perhaps the trance function was effective. He glanced up from the screen and pushed it back towards the Master. "As you can see for yourself, we do fine with our own technologies. And isn't my Feyd a lovely boy?"

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The Master idly wondered what was fueling that virulent hatred for the Sisterhood in question, since the Baron didn't seem to find the restrictions his civilization had placed on technology too chafing. Groups calling themselves 'Sisterhoods' tended to be uniformly aggravating in his experience, however, so he didn't bother to pursue it for now.

His Imperium did seem to have compensated nicely for its limitations, at least. The Master watched the scene in the arena with a bit of an inward twinge - something of the decor put him in mind of Gallifrey - but he smiled, chuckling softly. "Is there no escaping gladatorial combat? Even my own people, in the more barbarous points in their history, would make lesser races battle for their amusement."

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

The Baron wouldn't have admitted anything regarding the key source of his very personal spite toward the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood- he'd have just gone with the umbrella explanation of 'meddling whores', which sufficed to cover all his issues with them well enough, both general and personal. Gladiators, however, were a topic which he was quite pleased to focus upon. Especially ones who looked like his own stable of champions, chosen as much for appearance as ability- and not all were slaves.

"Why escape it? There is glory to be won in the arena- I do not make my nephew fight. I believe not to fight would be as unnatural to him as ceasing to breathe. My House's champions choose to fight, and, my people are entertained by the spectacle. Many come to watch my Feyd- he's winning more than honors and glory there. He's been winning hearts- a very useful thing, seeing as how he's my heir." Not that the Baron would have allowed Feyd's opponents to present an actual risk- his nephew was indeed highly skilled, and capable of besting most opponents on his own, despite his youth. As insurance, however, all opponents in real matches were dosed with the elacca drug prior to combat- although it greatly increased aggression, it also reduced skill, and basically guaranteed the upper edge to a skilled and focused combatant. "And even without those useful qualities, the show of life and death's a beautiful thing." As the music shifted to a track by LCD Soundsystem (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EdJx02LpQao"), Vladimir sighed fondly as he recalled some memorable moments presented by his nephew, adding, "Especially when those involved in the dance are beautiful as well."

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"Oh, it's glorious, in an atavistic way," the Master mused, taking another sip of wine. "That struggle for life or death. Not that it can be fully appreciated if you've never fought for your own life." He remembered his own traipse through the Death Zone, when it had been a monument of the barbaric past and not a pale shadow of things to come. "Although an arena fight is awfully controlled conditions. Hardly comparable to an actual battle." He twitched inwardly; he hadn't fared so well in the Time War, after all.

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

"Ahhh, those days were so long ago. I still remember them well." His wry, but wistful sort of smirk was followed by a moment of attention to his own wine. In this light, the dark depths of muted color worked to summon up a sharp recollection of his youth, when he too had spent some memorable moments in the arena. Drugged slaves of course, as was standard for such things- but he was too young to care too much. The blood on bare flesh, that was what he'd cared for in such moments, and, it had certainly left its mark upon him.

"I was never so good as my dear Feyd, however. I fought like any other young man, but, always was inclined toward the bigger picture, and known for other talents that had nothing to do with either one." Another smirk, this one slightly self-deprecating, but also containing a certain nostalgia. He hadn't sung in decades, although he assumed he technically could, still. But he hadn't seen the point in a very long while. "Strategy was always my preferred focus, military, financial- and more subtle arenas. Battles are controlled conditions, too. Even if the players don't tend to realize it. If it's all been properly arranged, the battle's the easy part."