Drift Stories/Hands Off the Merchandise: Difference between revisions

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This was a very different place from the utilitarian grime of the station promenade. A deep red strip of carpet ran over the black marble floor from the elevator to a grand set of stained-wood doors on the far side, flanked by two ermine guards with pristine white fur. Ilyar strode confidently across the carpet, his crew following; Bentley kept tight by his side, always a step behind. In practised form the guards pushed open the huge doors as they approached.

Inside the red carpet continued, flanked by colonnades of glittering black marble. One side of the grand office was a continuous wall of glass, looking out on the shimmering pink-purple majesty of the Drift. Ilyar and his crew walked up the avenue of columns, at the far end of which was a great table of pure white stone. Behind it, reclined on a chaise-longue and watching their progress intently, was the slender figure of a female dolphin. As they approached she stood, her emerald green dress flowing resplendently over her body and onto the floor. She fixed Ilyar with a steely gaze as he came to a stop a short distance from the table, flanked by his crew.

“Captain Ilyar, I presume,” she intoned in a voice much louder and more imposing than her frame suggested. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to the High Spire.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Kyrie,” Ilyar replied solemnly, and he bent over his arm into a deep bow. Solivane and Quartz did likewise; Bentley, briefly distracted by the view from the window, snapped back to attention and joined them.

Kyrie snapped her fingers, and the ermines by the door stood sharply to attention. “Leave us. No visitors.” At that the guards hurried from the room; the great doors closed behind them with a definite click, and Kyrie returned her gaze to Ilyar, her serious expression breaking into a disarming smile.

“Formalities over, folks. Relax, please. One in my position has to keep up appearances, you understand.” She gestured towards a circle of pouffes by the window. “Make yourselves comfortable. We have much to discuss.”

They settled down on the pouffes; Bentley sat cross-legged on one, their attention returning to the view. “I never get tired of looking out there, it’s so beautiful…”

“Nor do I,” added Kyrie softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. She gazed out the window along with Bentley. “The endless expanse of the Drift calls to the wanderer in us. You are lucky, friends, to be able to venture into it. Sometimes this station feels so suffocating.” Her eyes turned back to Ilyar. “‘Friends’. I hope I am not being too presumptuous.”

Ilyar smiled. “We’re always glad to make a new friend.” He looked at each of his crew in turn. “Solivane, my navigator.” Solivane bowed their head politely, adjusting their robes. “Quartz, my… everything else. She’s new, we haven’t settled on a role for her yet.” Quartz gave a small salute, stifling a giggle. Ilyar looked finally at Bentley, adoration in his eyes. “And Bentley, my engineer, my helm, and my Engine.” Bentley moved swiftly over to Ilyar’s side and sat on the floor by his leg, beaming with pride.

Kyrie smiled at the sight, leaning back into her pouffe. “A pair of bonded seam-walkers is a beautiful thing to behold. Anchor and Engine in perfect harmony.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “I am not gifted with the art, however much I would like to be, but…” She glanced around the palatial office. “… I have cut another path through the Drift, perhaps just as dangerous.”

Solivane cleared their throat. “Lady Kyrie, I understand there is a matter you wished to discuss.”

Nodding, Kyrie stood up and walked over to the window. “My people have been observing you during your stay here on the Cloud Archipelago. You seem a capable crew for a small… errand I require.” With a wave of her hand, the space inside the circle of pouffes burst into a cloud of glittering green particles, which coalesced into a holographic map of the charted Drift. Two points floated up from the mass of detail; one the Cloud Archipelago, the other a seam far away near the edge.

“I have a freight consignment that urgently needs to move from here—“ She pointed at the tiny Cloud Archipelago, “—to there,” Her hand moved across the map to the seam, “Passenger-382-C. It is a more pleasant reality than its designation suggests. Stable. Beautiful sunsets.”

Ilyar nodded, staring into the shimmering map. “What is the cargo?”

“The smart captain does not ask,” Kyrie said quietly. “It will pose no danger to you or your ship, I promise. The Guild, however, will certainly take an interest. I will have a suitable cloaking system installed on your ship,” She looked into Ilyar’s eyes, a faint smile on her lips. “If, of course, you accept.”

“What about payment?” Quartz asked. Solivane glared at her, a sudden panic in their eyes, but Kyrie laughed. “Business-minded. I like that. Fifty thousand marks, plus expenses. There will be plenty more work for you if you want it. My books are busy.”

Bentley’s eyes went wide. “Fifty thousand? Captain, that could buy a fleet! We could refit the ship! Refurbish the crew quarters! En-suite bathrooms!”

Ilyar chuckled and ruffled Bentley’s neck scruff, turning his attention back to Kyrie with a smile. “We accept. I will make preparations to depart immediately.”

Kyrie raised a finger and, slipping back over to the great table, retrieved an ornate glass bottle and a set of crystal tumblers from a drawer. The deep purple liquid in the bottle shimmered and glowed softly, as if mimicking the Drift itself. “You depart tomorrow. Please, stay for a while tonight.” She poured each of them a glass from the bottle. Ilyar sniffed at the liquid; it smelled herbal, with a hint of lavender, and a heady alcoholic tang that made his nose tingle.

Kyrie sat back down with her glass and raised it, a broad smile across her face. “To a job well done.” Ilyar, Bentley, Solivane and Quartz clinked their glasses against hers. “And to new friends,” Bentley added, sipping their glass and breaking into a coughing fit from its sheer potency. “Quite right,” Kyrie laughed.