produce, and she knows it. As to why I'm encouraging the peasants, I admire their bravery, and I understand their need for a little personal independence. And it amuses me to think of Lionstone fuming helplessly. Besides, encouraging local democracy will keep the underground off our backs. Don't worry, Kit, I know what I'm doing. Encouraging the peasants and undermining the Steward's authority means I get to hear things I might otherwise not. No one's going to catch me napping like they did Owen.'
The meeting went well. The peasants bowed respectfully to David and to Kit, said all the right things, and put forward a few modest proposals. David pretended to consider them for a moment and then gave his approval. Local democracy was alive and well on Virimonde, the Steward was quietly fuming, and as far as David was concerned, all was well with the world. He liked to see the peasants happy and the Steward unhappy. He was, at heart, a man of simple pleasures. The peasants bowed again, satisfyingly deeply, and left, happy and smiling. David allowed himself to think of dinner again. And that was when the Steward sprang his little surprise.
'What do you mean, more business?' snapped David.
'I've signed everything that doesn't move, and talked to everything that does. Whatever's left can wait until after I've eaten, digested, and had a little nap.'
'I'm afraid not, my lord,' said the Steward, unruffled. 'There has been a communication from the Empress herself, concerning her plans for the future of Virimonde. Plans which, I regret to say, will render your assurances to the peasants both redundant and meaningless.'
David looked sharply at the Steward. This was the first time he'd heard of any plans for Virimonde's future. Especially from the Empress. He hadn't thought Lionstone even knew where Virimonde was. And as Lord of the planet and its people, he should have been contacted well in advance of any plans. And there had been something in the Steward's tone he hadn't liked at all. Something almost smug, and knowing. David scowled at the Steward, and sank back into his chair. If this was something the Steward didn't think he'd approve of, he wanted to know what it was right now.
'All right. Steward, put it on the main screen. Let's see what the Iron Bitch has to say for herself.'
The Steward nodded serenely and moved over to activate the viewscreen controls. The screen lit up on the wall before David and Kit, and the nightmare began. Lionstone provided the voice-over, but the images on the screen were clear enough on their own. Virimonde was to become a completely automated world—one huge factory, from pole to pole. The towns and the villages and the great fields would vanish under miles-long sheds, with the livestock contained in pens, stacked hundreds high. Animals would be born in the cloning bays, live short, artificially fattened lives, and die in the attached slaughterhouses, without ever once seeing the outside world. Fed through tubes, lobotomized to keep them calm, slaughtered by machines. No more need for the countryside. No more need for farms or farmers. The computers would run everything. The peasants would be rounded up, transported to other worlds, and found useful work in factories. The projected meat production would rise thousands fold in the first year alone, and would pay for itself in ten years or less.
And that was Lionstone's plan for Virimonde, a future with no place in it for human hands. The final scene on the viewscreen was a computer simulation of what the new world would look like. A landscape of endless sheds and factories, with thick black smoke belching up from the slaughterhouse incinerators, as bones and hooves and other nonessentials were melted down to make glue. Nothing would be wasted in the automated world. The screen went blank as the message ended, and the Steward coughed politely to remind them he was still there.
'Any questions, my lord?'
'Is she out of her tiny mind?' said David. 'Does she really think I'll stand for this? You can't just destroy an entire world and its culture! The people here have traditions of service that go back centuries!'
'They're just peasants,' said the Steward calmly. 'Their duty and purpose is to serve, here or elsewhere, as the Empress commands. This new method of raising livestock will be much more efficient. I have the projected figures for the next ten years, if you'd care to see them.'
'Stuff the figures! What she's planning is wrong. This is a human world, not some offshoot from Shub.'
'You should be proud, my lord. Virimonde is to be the first such planet, the prototype. Once its worth has been proved here, all other food-producing worlds will be transformed accordingly. Your present wealth will be greatly magnified.'
'Who cares about that?' said David, sticking his face right into the Steward's. 'Where's the fun in ruling over one big factory? No, this obscenity will never happen here. Not as long as I'm Lord.'
'What can you do to stop it?' said Kit. 'I mean, she's the Empress. She makes the decisions. You argue about it too much, and she might declare you a traitor, just like Owen.'
'She wouldn't really destroy a whole planet,' said David. 'Would she?'
'Almost certainly,' said Kit. 'It wasn't that long ago she outlawed the planet Tannim, and had the whole planet scorched. Remember?'
David scowled. He remembered. Billions of people had died, a civilization gone up in flames, at the Empress's command. 'That was over politics. This is business.'
Kit shrugged. 'Same thing, as often as not.'
'Yeah,' said David. 'I know where this is coming from. Why she chose to start with my world. It's because I'm a Deathstalker, and Owen's had such a triumph on Mistworld. She can't get at him, so she takes it out on me, the childish bitch. No, Kit, there's no way I'm going to let her get away with this.'
'What can you do?' said Kit, reasonably.
'Nothing, I'm afraid, my lord,' said the Steward. His voice was deferential, as always, but David was sure he could see a dark satisfaction in the man's eyes. 'The Empress has never had much time for sentiment, and I doubt she will be swayed by any protest you might make. As I understand it, the transformation of food planets is part of a process to ensure an uninterrupted flow of food for the Empire during the projected future war with the aliens. As such, this becomes a matter of security, and is therefore not open to question. By anyone.'
'You knew about this!' said David. He grabbed the Steward by the shirtfront with both hands and slammed him back against the wall. 'She couldn't have brought her plans this far without consulting you first! She needed facts and figures, the kind only you had access to. Talk to me, damn you!'
'He can't talk,' said Kit calmly. 'You're throttling him. Ease up, David, and let's hear what he has to say. We can always kill him later.'
David let go of the Steward, and stepped back a pace, breathing heavily. The Steward put a hand to his throat as his breath returned, and glared at David, his servility discarded. 'The Empress was kind enough to consult with me, yes. I did my best to be useful to her, as was my duty. You weren't informed until now because you had nothing useful to add to the discussion. And because we expected precisely this kind of infantile behavior from you. There is nothing you can do, my lord. Nothing at all.'
'I can talk to the Company of Lords,' said David. 'And Parliament, if need be. I'm not the only one with a personal stake in this. No other Lord will stand for this happening to one of their planets. Where's the fun in being a Lord, without people to Lord it over? This new efficiency would leave us nothing more than factory managers. Tradespeople! No, the Lords will never accept this. Dammit, I came here for peace and relaxation, not to oversee the transformation of this world into one big battery farm! Get out of my sight, Steward. I'm sick of looking at you.'
The Steward bowed coldly and left. David leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily. Kit looked at him thoughtfully.
'Can we really stop her?' he said mildly. 'If she makes this a matter of security…'
'Well, to start with I'll send her a reply to this message that will make her ears burn. She thinks she can pressure me just because I haven't been a Lord long. We have to stop her, Kit. These plans would undermine every Lord's position. She's trying to take away our power, in return for more money. Well, she's miscalculated this time. Being a Lord has nothing to do with credits in a bank. Our peasants have always been loyal to us first, and only through us to the Empress. They've always been a potential army we could use to defend ourselves against Imperial aggression. Damn, this goes farther than I thought. This is a blow against the fundamental rights and powers of all Lords! With our planets controlled by computers, and our peasants scattered in factories on a dozen worlds, we'd have no real power base at all. If she gets away with this, Lionstone could break the power of the Lords once and for all.'
'Not all Lords,' said Kit. 'Only those Families whose fortunes are tied to people and places. Other Clans, such as the Wolfes, draw their wealth and prestige from technology these days.'
'You're right,' said David slowly. 'This would hit the older, more traditional Families, who tend to oppose the
