On the day of the governor's visit, the DeMuer Exports office in the New Haven district was a veritable windstorm of activity. Up on the second and third floors executives took out their anger on their analysts, and the analysts yelled at the couriers, and the couriers muttered crossly to one another as they ferried the messages to and from the West End.
The Black Baron was set to be launched today, the newest merchant vessel from Aja's shipyards, and everything so far that could have gone wrong did, short of a hurricane wrecking the harbor.
"So lay it on me." Jaster sat behind his desk with his head in his hands, kneading a brow that, even at his relatively young age (for an Aurkindar), was beginning to show wrinkles. His was perhaps the only neatly ordered office in the entire building at the moment, and he viewed it as an essential first step in establishing control over chaotic days like these.
"Well, sir... the captain and first mate were last seen at the Bunker late last night placing their fourth orders of the Four Horsemen and have been missing since then, the truck that was supposed to move the cargo down to the B.B. is probably up in the Barony instead, and the dignitaries from Vrashne will be three days late because of religious observances that their aides neglected to take into account."
And in this time, Jaster had popped the RhyDinian equivalent of three aspirin. "Okay." He nodded. "All right." He nodded again and drummed his fingers on his desk - they sped up, slowed, sped up again, then stopped except for the pinky, which played that soft key way down at the end of the invisible piano. "Tell the Jerdustians that we'll be late with their Zeppa shipment, use all the soda trucks for the B.B. cargo instead... send the Mark's tender on duty with an apology, 24 Zeppas, and a handle of good vodka. Great vodka. No goddamn industrial cleaners."
He drummed his palms on the desk, then snapped his fingers. "Call S.P.I., tell them we think the captain and first mate have been kidnapped. Oughta light a fire under their feet to find those two morons, and they'll forgive us once it's all over. Have espresso waiting for them at the christening ceremony."
The aide nodded, then rocked on his heels. There was one more thing to address. "Sir, the -- "
"I know, I know," Jaster said, waving a hand to shoo him. "Jesus..."
The aide then cleared his throat. "...You know, the governor will be visiting soon..."
Jaster's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his aide by the face, and kissed him firmly on the mouth, then patted his cheek before letting him go. "I knew I kept you around for a reason. Find Alain, tell him he ought to get here as soon as he can to show the governor the Black Baron after the tour. Bet we can convince one of them to christen that goddamn ship."
* * *
Five minutes later, Jaster stood in the lobby, far more composed, chatting idly with the rather attractive young receptionist while couriers hurried in and out the front door every few moments.
((Cross-posted from over hurr))
The Black Baron was set to be launched today, the newest merchant vessel from Aja's shipyards, and everything so far that could have gone wrong did, short of a hurricane wrecking the harbor.
"So lay it on me." Jaster sat behind his desk with his head in his hands, kneading a brow that, even at his relatively young age (for an Aurkindar), was beginning to show wrinkles. His was perhaps the only neatly ordered office in the entire building at the moment, and he viewed it as an essential first step in establishing control over chaotic days like these.
"Well, sir... the captain and first mate were last seen at the Bunker late last night placing their fourth orders of the Four Horsemen and have been missing since then, the truck that was supposed to move the cargo down to the B.B. is probably up in the Barony instead, and the dignitaries from Vrashne will be three days late because of religious observances that their aides neglected to take into account."
And in this time, Jaster had popped the RhyDinian equivalent of three aspirin. "Okay." He nodded. "All right." He nodded again and drummed his fingers on his desk - they sped up, slowed, sped up again, then stopped except for the pinky, which played that soft key way down at the end of the invisible piano. "Tell the Jerdustians that we'll be late with their Zeppa shipment, use all the soda trucks for the B.B. cargo instead... send the Mark's tender on duty with an apology, 24 Zeppas, and a handle of good vodka. Great vodka. No goddamn industrial cleaners."
He drummed his palms on the desk, then snapped his fingers. "Call S.P.I., tell them we think the captain and first mate have been kidnapped. Oughta light a fire under their feet to find those two morons, and they'll forgive us once it's all over. Have espresso waiting for them at the christening ceremony."
The aide nodded, then rocked on his heels. There was one more thing to address. "Sir, the -- "
"I know, I know," Jaster said, waving a hand to shoo him. "Jesus..."
The aide then cleared his throat. "...You know, the governor will be visiting soon..."
Jaster's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his aide by the face, and kissed him firmly on the mouth, then patted his cheek before letting him go. "I knew I kept you around for a reason. Find Alain, tell him he ought to get here as soon as he can to show the governor the Black Baron after the tour. Bet we can convince one of them to christen that goddamn ship."
* * *
Five minutes later, Jaster stood in the lobby, far more composed, chatting idly with the rather attractive young receptionist while couriers hurried in and out the front door every few moments.
((Cross-posted from over hurr))