Sitting in your new captain's cabin with Thomas, you looked over the Cruiser 12's deck plan carefully. It was a good design, with a few traditionally German features such as the location of the shafts, but in all other respects it was rather bland.
"So, these empty spaces…" you muttered, tapping the fore end, in the bow. "I'm thinking we put in a passenger section, a Navigator's office, and a salle. After that Black spot, I don't want to hit another Blank spot, and good navigation's been what's keeping us ahead of the averages on our deliveries."
Thomas shrugged, and pointed to the gunnery map. "And the guns? I've talked to the translator for the yard- they've already got the guns and their ammo out of the Annahiem, and they're waiting for directions on where to put 'em in at."
"Belt mounts, I'm thinking, on the fore end mounts. We do have the lift budget to do that, right?"
"Yeah, there's sectional lift budget for it. The Turks came up with some decent workarounds for their weight issues from a wooden frame."
Smirking, you pulled out a cigarette, before remembering you were aboard a ship and stuffing it behind your ear. Tapping the design, you looked over to Thomas, and checked your modifications to the plans. "Any last concerns?" you asked, gesturing over the documents.
A chuckle was what you were met with, and Thomas smirked at you. "I was going to ask you that, you know. Not nervous about a new ship?"
"I barely had time to get used to the last one, you know." You huffed. "We had her for what, three weeks tops? With most of that spent in port to boot."
Thomas nodded sagely, and pulled out a hip flask. Raising it to you, you responded with raising up your cup of coffee in an impromptu toast. After both of you drank a little, Thomas grinned slyly at you.
"You remember those passengers we had, right?" he asked, smile shifting over to shit-eating without blinking. "So, when were you going to get them and introduce them to the new ship?"
Snorting, you swore as coffee went up your nose as you ran over to the door to your bedroom. Ducking in, you yelled out quickly at Thomas.
"Find me one of the officers, and call for a lighter!" you yelled out. "I need to get changed!"
"They're passengers, not anything important!" Thomas laughed back, the toast pushing him up a few notches in terms of almost-drunkeness. "C'mon, man!"
"I am not going out there without some protection from getting sucked into another drinking party!"
"How?"
"I just need to find something I can wear my sword with!"
---
About two-thirds of an hour later, you glanced idly at your pocketwatch to confirm it was just a touch after three in the afternoon. You had to time this carefully- too early would draw you into a hair of the dog and some maniac misadventure, too late and you'd be walking into a party, which would most likely involve tumblers of dark rum and some arcane fruit juice over ice. Fortunately, as your hand danced over the hilt of your sword anxiously, your backup plan stood up and stretched, drawing your eyes and that of every red-blooded male on the boat. Meandering over, she leaned on the rail and smirked at you slightly as you realized that maybe bringing a sword to a hotel was a little overkill.
"Captain." Czeslawa said, her smirk widening a little. "So why the long sword?"
Looking down briefly, you shifted a leg to get your sword out of the way. It was fairly long, the old cavalry sabre bumping your leg carefully.
"In my experience, gentlemen bringing swords either get no drinks, or all the drinks."
Your nurse's eyes glinted. "So what's the response to the second?"
"You." Was the response, followed by a wavy hand gesture. "I remember Toulouse very well, thank you."
"That wasn't so bad!"
"The bottles of vodka I saw on the receipt say otherwise."
Huffing, Czeslawa turned away in half-jest. Your response was a chuckle as the lighter came to the ground with a slight thud, throwing Czeslawa backwards. Catching her easily, your ass hit the deck about the same time you realized that she was heavy- more than heavy enough to overwrite your personal inertia. Still, it as you helped her and yourself up and off the boat, you thought to yourself that she'd handled most of the rough patches on the way over just fine. Eh, must just be her first time on a small boat in a while.
Stepping into the lobby of the hotel, you blinked carefully at the opulence. Truly, here did the east meet the west as you passed under arches and around columns, the area commanding an innate respect from it's pale, nearly golden stone polished to a luster. Carpets and rugs made the area homey, while your eyes were drawn to the magnificent facades and appointments.
"Monseigneur van Riebeck! Just the man I was looking for!" you heard a voice shout from the grand stair at the end of the cavernous lobby. Looking up, you saw Lee standing there, entcourage following him down enthusiastically. "I noticed a discrepancy at the docks- your ship was gone! Were you trying some mercantile trick, or were the winds of fate particularly strong that day?"
Rolling your eyes, you advanced up to the foot of the stairs in time to meet your passengers coming down. "I'll admit, business was afoot." You replied, grinning. "I doubt you'll recognize the ship overmuch when we get back- she's not the same one as last time?"
"No?"
"I might have been able to upgrade." You said, waiving your hand carefully. "It was a bit of an adventure, but good business is good business."
Behind you, Czeslawa chuckled. "I don't know if worming your way into the arms of the Turks was good business, but it was still well done."
Lee started, and shifted himself to bring Czeslawa into the conversation. "You cut a deal with the Turks? For what?" he asked, eager. The entcourage was starting to surround you, and in the distance you saw a footman filling up a tray with sniffers of brandy. Time to exit vous, si'vous plies.
"Nothing major, just some fairly equivalent exchange. The Caroline Annahiem was leagues over their own work, so they tendered an offer to buy her. I found their terms uniquely generous, and found myself accepting before I knew it."
"Are you sure it wasn't a trap, Captain?" Lee asked, pulling in conspirially close to you. "The Moslems here, they are devious creatures and canny in the ways of accounts. I have seen many of what they call the dhimmi homeless and destitute for their failure to ascern the pagan bookkeeping done here."
Your started smiling, as you patted the Englishman on the shoulder. "Lee, my friend, I will let you in on a small secret. My father's accountant, one Nathanial Gregarious, was a Jew in high accord with his synagogue, and he was who taught me the first of my numbers. I could read the house ledgers by the time I was eight, and could balance my own accounts at ten."
"You would challenge the Turk with the Jew?" Lee asked, stroking his chin. "Quite wise of you. Still, I am going to be worried for a while yet-"
"Aleksander!"
Starting at the shout, you looked across the lobby in surprise. Dressed in a silk morning dress was Ayse, cigarette smoldering in a holder. She was shocked to see you, and likewise you to see her. Striding over, her smoke cloud parted the sea as she carefully cut in between you and Czeslawa, the nurse letting her in with a look of trepidation. That changed to mild incredulity and slight shock when Ayse kissed you three times on the cheeks in a pleasant greeting.
"Aleksander, what on earth are you doing here? You're still supposed to be in Dardanelles!"
It took a moment to throw your brain over to French, and another moment to marshal your thoughts so you didn't sound like a Quebecois rube. "Ayse, please! There was still work to do on the transfer, and I had to talk to one of my financiers."
A raised eyebrow met you carefully. "Your financiers… are English."
"Some of them, yes. Considering how much money he's payed, I'll be happy to cart him around until he gets to where he's going."
Screwing up his face and responding in some of the worst French you'd heard in years, Lee finally tried to step into the conversation. "Your accents are terrible."
You looked at Ayse, who looked at you, before you both looked at Lee and started laughing. A couple of the French girls tittered politely, before Lee got the idea he might want to shut up.
"There's a decent restaurant at the Dardenelles I was hoping to see you at tomorrow." Ayse mentioned carefully, looking over at Czeslawa. "Bring some of your officers- Mustafa wants to talk a little business. Your time in Istanbul is coming to a close, after all."
You nodded carefully. "That it is. I've still got a few things to handle here, but once those are done, we'll be out on the morning thermals."
With a smile and a wave, Ayse left with one last parting gift. "I'll see you tomorrow, then, Aleksander. I hope you're ready."
You hoped you were ready, too. Soon, you'd be making way again at last.
VOTES
The Jacob Problem
[] Jacob dies
-[] Legally
-[] Subtly
-[] Obviously
[] Jacob lives
-[] In prison
-[] In the hinterlands
-[] In misery
Future Areas of Interest
[] Egypt
[] Arabia
[] Palestine
[] Crete
[] Persia
[] Chaldea
[] Kurdistan
[] Omar
(Note: Your job offers next update will be in the three most popular Areas of Interest)
). I would hardly forget Saint John or his Gospel. Also, he did small arms, not the large mounted guns we're needing.
