Thread: Interstellar Flight (Mr. M & missedstations)

When she stood, he immediately started over. He plastered on a friendly smile, and made some quick evaluations of the woman's means. Bodyguard nearby, from the logo on the privacy mask an employee of the hotel exquisite clothes, to the point where he didn't really have the experience or knowledge to rate exactly how pricey they were and a cultured, almost regal bearing that came with the rich and powerful, most often those with hereditary influence. As soon as she said her name, he knew all of his suppositions were correct, and turned up a notch. He clamped as much control as he could to keep his expression and his step from faltering. The Kostukova family was in charge of one of the primary corporate coalitions in the Central Worlds, possibly within the top twenty most profitable conglomerated concerns out there after a certain point, it got hard to tell who owned what and where the money came from, so at the top levels it was a bit hazy. Most folks with an ear to the interstellar news would have heard about the more famous members of the family over the past few decades the holo-star, the politicians, the old general who led the failed coup. It could have been coincidence that this woman bore the same name, but given her bearing and obvious wealth, he thought not. And that ramped the gig up to a whole different level. Ms. Kostukova, it is a pleasure. He gripped her hand as if to lift it, and sketched a short bow over it as responses went, it was more than commercial, and less than ballroom-formal, but it at least acknowledged the difference in social status, which was about the limit of Taggart's experience in such matters. Please, don't stand on my account. There were many chairs in this waiting area, suitable for conversations of their sort. Taggart ensured his potential client moved to sit again, and then found a seat nearby. If I may say, ma'am, it was intriguing to receive the offer. I usually work a different style of job, and indeed, he'd done so for Kostukova companies on several occasions, operating against rival concerns in different corporate hot-spots all around the Rim, so I was pleased at the opportunity to broaden my business. However, I should note at this point that my ship is not generally a passenger vessel. My creature comforts are... shall we say, utilitarian. I'm happy to accommodate what cargo you would care to bring aboard, if that would ease your journey, but I feel it best to be up-front about the limits of my service. He spread his hands, in a gesture asking minor forgiveness. I don't mean to spoil my chances, but your retainer buys you my honesty as well as my presence in port. Knowing something about who his client was had made the severe limits of his facilities painfully clear in his mind the Tears was clean and in excellent condition, but he was no decorator the interior was somewhere between Spartan and industrial, and his spare cabin had devolved into mostly idle storage he could move all of that into the actual cargo area, but there was no way he'd be able to, say, install carpet and artwork on short notice, not even with the retainer she'd already paid.