>>5190181“I’ll make a note put in an order for a fresh batch of barrels.”
“Indeed. And Trevent sends his most sincere apologies for the oversight, and an invitation for tea upon our return.”
“Odds we die of poisoning?”
“Unlikely, but still nonzero.”
“Business as usual, then.”
The wardroom of Captain Rashid Elishani speaks as one that belongs to a museum curator. Or a historian, but at this point, the line’s blurred, somewhat. You see books on a nearby shelf, some of which have pre-Cataclysm binding. Behind his desk, there’s what appears to be imported furniture from the Megiddan Empire, artwork and paintings from God knows where, rusted artifacts and knickknacks…a model starship?
Hang on, is that a Toghril cutlass?
“No, none of them are for sale,” Elishani observes wryly.
Flushing, you bring your attention back to the captain. But he cuts you off before you can apologize. “Unless you plan on stealing anything, there’s no harm in admiring my collection. Of course, if one was planning such a despicable act…God willing, any thief would not leave this ship alive.”
The man himself is…well, you can certainly see how he could command a salvage trawler. Much like Geary, there’s definitely ex-military in his posture, as well as an accent you can’t place. Relaxed, but still ready to leap onto his feet at the slightest provocation. His face is long and drawn, but his eyes shine bright with an almost mercurial energy. Retirement for this captain won’t come for a long time.
“I read your file,” he says, drumming his fingers on a brown, manila folder. “But before I ask any questions, you’ll have to tell me how to pronounce your name.”
Oh, God, not this again...
“Oo-Nah-Me, sir,” you enunciate tiredly, “And Sin-leck.”
He nods in understanding. “Of course. And your callsign?”
“Razor, sir.”
Another nod. “You come highly recommended by Mister Stolze, Unami. Your certifications are extensive. Mechanical engineering journeyman. Welder’s permit. Saturation diving warrant. PUEXO pilot. I can see why Declan would be reluctant to release you from the <span class="mu-i">Marduk</span>.”
…not like you had a choice in the matter. And you notice that Elishani made little mention of your status. You aren’t sure whether or not to be relieved or offended. And Stolze. Bartholemew goddamned Stolze. It just always seems to come back to that prick.
Elishani steeples his hands together, continuing: “While this is mission is being undertaken by the purview of the Salvage Guild, I’ve been given free reign conduct day-to-day operations as best I see fit. I run a tight ship, Mister Unami. No differently than I would a vessel of the Babylonian Navy. Not that I expect knuckles to foreheads or holystoned decks, but there’s a level of <span class="mu-i">discipline</span> that I expect from all of my crew.
“PUEXO pilots,” he says lightly, “Don’t easily fit into the traditional ladder of a sailing ship.”
(cont.)