Beyond fate, there is choice
by Ainzfern
5
The curator of the Midas museum of history, a citizen of Midas who absolutely insisted on Chey calling him by his first name of 'Quinn', was one of those uniquely fussy and diminutive men who brought Chey in mind of a nervous but endearing little animal. Initially simply politely questioning when Chey arrived at the front desk of the lobby entrance, he looked immensely and immediately gratified to realize that he had an official federation minister visiting his place of work even though the museum was officially closed to the public.
"Well, this is a rather pleasant surprise, Mr. Neeson, Sir," Quinn enthused as he shook Chey's hand in welcome, "Er... normally your ministerial colleagues are more, well... you know, interested in the sights of the Eos central district than with the more cultural aspects our fine city has to offer."
"I could imagine," Chey smiled down at him, even as his sharp eyes noted the tastefully placed banners around the lobby promoting the wonders of a coming exhibit. As he registered the details on the banners, he felt a surge of gratification.
The next exhibit scheduled for the museum was to be a selection of artifacts from the federation world of Ephedria, a planet that boasted a lengthy and captivating history of ancient pre-colonized indigenous Dynasties and some of the finest antiquities ever to have been created. And, it was the subject one of the few university history courses that Chey Neeson had actually been interested in, thus subsequently remembered quite clearly. In fact, he had maintained a life-long fascination with the planet's history, appreciating the ascetics of many of its pre-modern artworks so much that he had invested in a few small but valuable pieces over the years.
His luck, it appeared, was holding well. He had identified a common interest, a method to building rapport with Tahna Lam, without even having met him yet.
"Well," Quinn was rubbing his hands eagerly. "Erm... If you would like, Sir, I'd be quite happy to take you on a quick tour, although," his face fell slightly, "it would have to be quite a rapid one. The artifacts for our next exhibit arrived today, and our department head is very anxious to get them all sorted and into place in the new gallery."
"Actually, as gracious as your kind offer is, Quinn," Chey nodded urbanely to him. "It's actually your department head that I have come to see."
Quinn froze. His eyes widened a touch. "Y-you want to see Sir Tahna?" he asked hesitantly.
"I do." Chey peered quizzically at the little man, Iason's firm warning returning to him as he noted the tension on Quinn's face.
"Er..." Quinn fidgeted, a little grimace crossing his face, "Today..?"
"Well, that would be preferable, Quinn," Chey's tone firmed a little, a clear note of authority entering it and having the desired effect on the curator. It was a little cruel, he knew, but he had an agenda to stick to. "I have only a brief window available in my schedule before I must start preparations for the annual trade conference. You know who it is."
"I do?" Quinn blinked, and then gave himself a little shake. "I do." He nodded. "Of course I do. Erm... Well, he's... he's just down this way, in the one of our preparation rooms appraising our newest requisitions." With a wave of one hand, Quinn led him out of the lobby and past the 'staff only' notice. Heading along a short corridor, he continued to chatter quite nervously, Chey couldn't help but note.
"Now, I... I feel I must warn you; Sir Tahna is likely to be a little... distracted today. He's very busy." Quinn stopped just outside the open doorway, peeking through into the room with all the genuine anxiety of a man handling an unexploded bomb.
Frowning slightly, Chey tilted his head and appraised Quinn shrewdly. "Tell you what, Quinn," he said kindly. "Why don't I just go on in and introduce myself? It's only a quick and casual visit, after all."
Quinn shot him a grateful look, almost unconsciously backing away from the door.
With a shake of his head and a soft huff of amusement, Chey stepped through the threshold of the room. Entering the somewhat cluttered back-office, his attention was immediately drawn to a Blondie Elite, that he had to assume was Tahna Lam, in the centre of the room surrounded by half-opened boxes and carelessly discarded packing materials. Here and there around him, various uncrated artifacts had been stacked out of harm's way, but directly in front of him a large and graceful urn had been placed carefully on a sturdy table.
He was standing with his back to door, bent slightly over the desk as he flicked through what appeared to be an inventory list with sharp and irritated movements. He paused momentarily, hearing Chey's footsteps, before sighing hugely without even so much as turning around. "I swear, Quinn, those mentally challenged troglodytes at the federation department of antiquities get more deeply moronic with every year that passes."
As Chey watched, Tahna heaved another sigh and stroked his long and elegant fingers delicately down the curved surface of the urn, the gentleness of his caress a startling contrast to the tone of his voice. "Do you believe that they have actually catalogued this item as Imperial in the timeline? Are they completely blind? I have paid a vast amount of my budget to lease artifacts for the Ephedrian gallery display and they can't even be bothered to place them into the correct category!" He straightened, still apparently glaring at the offending item. "It's no use, Quinn," he threw his hands up. "You and I are just going to have to recatalogue the entire collection and, personally, I'm going to enjoy sending off a rather pointed list of corrections to the untrained ape who is responsible for this wretched example of ignorance."
Feeling a rather bemused little smile curve his mouth, strangely impressed by the sheer eloquence of Tahna's diatribe, Chey took another step into the room. "Well, I can't say that I blame you for your fervor, Sir Tahna," he ignored the Blondie's startled expression, as the Elite turned around to stare at him with quite beautiful and quite angry violet eyes, instead peering more closely at the urn. "I would have thought the use of an ochre glaze," he nodded at the artifact, "would have quite obviously placed this rather charming object into the pre-Dynastic era of Ephedrian history. I'd even go so far as to suggest it's from somewhere back in the Shion period."
Tahna blinked, glancing sharply at the urn before turning back to him, his eyes narrowing. "Yes," his tone was guarded, his gaze not entirely affable. "The first court of the Shion ruling council, to be exact."
"Ah," Chey grinned at him. "Well then, all those hours of fighting to keep awake in my ancient history lectures at Elldaren-Prime University weren't a total waste."
Tahna stilled again, staring even harder at him, a slight sneer of distaste curving his full mouth.
Unruffled, Chey used the tiny stalemate to conduct a quick but thorough inspection of the Elite. He wasn't at all worried about being looked at as though he was some manner of nasty little insect. He'd been in politics a long, long time. In comparison to some of the looks he'd received in his professional capacity, Tahna Lam was almost downright welcoming.
And remarkably attractive, even for a Blondie. He was at least equal to Chey's own substantial height, although about two inches shorter than Iason Mink. His hair and skin was as pale and flawless as Iason's was, and the fine features of his face were well balanced and attractive. Good jaw structure, graceful cheekbones and a rich, sensually full mouth. Unlike Iason, however, whose eyes were so pale that at times they almost looked like ice, Tahna's huge eyes were the deepest blue Chey Neeson had ever seen, framed quite strikingly by long sooty lashes.
Also, quite unlike Iason, whose gaze reflected genuine warmth and welcome, Tahna's gaze was anything but friendly.
"Who, exactly..." Tahna said then, pressing the fingertips of one hand to his creasing brow in an impatient gesture, "are you?" His gaze flicked towards the door Chey had just walked through. "And where in Quinn?"
"Well," Chey shrugged amiably, "I'm Chey Neeson, the federation's Mister for Trade and Foreign Affairs, and," he chuckled lightly, "...if I'm any judge of character, your Mr. Quinn is listening outside the door at this very moment."
Tahna's mouth thinned as, from beyond the open door, the guilty little sound of rapidly retreating footsteps reached their ears. He glanced back at Chey, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "Chey Neeson," he repeated, tilting his head. "I know that name. Aren't you one of Iason Mink's sycophantic little cohorts?"
Chey nodded sagely, carefully smothering his intense desire to grin his ass off. "Ah," he murmured almost to himself, "I see..."
Well, he certainly couldn't say that he hadn't been warned. Iason had been quite specific about Tahna's tendency to general spitefulness. But what the Elite leader had failed to take into account was Chey's rather eclectic sense of humor. Yes, Tahna was most definitely unpleasant. But he was also damned funny.
Chey was pretty certain Tahna didn't realize that, though.
Of course, amused or not, Chey realized he still had to assess Tahna Lam for suitability as a consultant to the New-Vincentia project. That was, naturally, assuming the man even wanted the secondment. Tahna would have to at least be able to work in a professional capacity with non-Elites, indeed, non-Amoians in the dig-team. Regardless of Tahna's well-renowned abilities, Chey was not about to offer him any invitations until he was sure the Elite could be relied upon to at least marginally control himself.
So far... it didn't look all that hopeful.
"And, as for being a representative of the federation government," Tahna continued, "don't expect that little fact to impress me. From what I've seen, every single minister your government has seen fit to dispatch to us has either been defective or degenerate," his sneer grew even more pronounced and he looked Chey up and down with insulting slowness. "Certainly, judging from the look of you, I can't imagine how you would be any different."
"You know..." Chey replied thoughtfully, "next time we meet, I must be sure to bring a notebook."
Tahna shook his head slightly, a little grimace flitting across his flawless face. "What?"
"Your insults," Chey clarified, a smile on his face. "They're pure gold. I've got to use that sycophant line on someone when I get back into the senate."
Eyes narrowing dangerously, Tahna huffed a disgusted little sound from deep in his chest. "What," he said slowly and distinctly, as if talking down to a child, "do... you... want?"
"Actually," Chey casually slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged again, "I was hoping to arrange an audience with you."
"An audience," Tahna echoed, a slow smile rising on his face.
"Yes."
"Well," Tahna's demeanor became artfully bright and cheerful, "that can certainly be arranged."
"Oh?" Chey raised a brow at him, a certain feeling of suspicion rising in him.
"Hmm." The good humor abruptly left Tahna's face again. "I lecture twice a week, in the evenings. Sign-up sheets are at the door." He turned slightly, pulling in a deep breath. "QUINN!!"
Chey winced slightly as Tahna's volume rattled his teeth.
Mere seconds later, Quinn's hesitant face peered around the door. "Uh, yes Sir Tahna? Sir?"
"Would you be so good as to make sure Mr..." Tahna flapped a hand in Chey's direction, "Neeson here, makes his way safely out of the museum?"
"Ah..." Quinn looked apologetically at Chey. "Yes, Sir... Of course, Sir." He gestured towards the door with a tight little shrug.
"What he really means, Quinn," Chey chuckled delightedly, genuinely impressed by how smoothly he had just been dismissed, "is 'feel free to let the door hit his ass on the way out'." He looked over his shoulder and winked at Tahna's startled face. "I'll, uhm, get in touch with your office at Jupiter Tower then, will I?" he suggested mildly.
Tahna lifted his chin and gave him a haughty little look down the end of his perfect nose. "Well, it's your time, Mr. Neeson," he shot back at he turned to face the desk once more. "Feel free to waste it however you wish. Quinn, you come right back here after you're done. We, unlike some people who pretend to be professional, actually have work to do."
Grinning broadly, Chey followed Quinn down the hallway and out into the lobby area of the museum. "Tell me something, Quinn," he asked casually as they crossed the marble floor toward the front entrance. "Is he always like that?"
Quinn smiled nervously. "Oh... no. Not at all," he replied quickly, before hesitating, his smile faltering slightly. "Well, actually... yes, yes he is. But, y'know... he's very good at what he does and... he just has very exacting standards and he likes people around him to share those standards."
"And do you?"
"Well, y'know... I try." Quinn turned to face him as they reached the door, wincing a little.
Chey patted the little man's shoulder in a friendly way. "It must be hell."
To his surprise, Quinn's expression hardened just a touch. "Actually, no," he said quite firmly, "I mean, yes, certainly Sir Tahna occasionally says rather nasty things to me." He frowned thoughtfully. "Actually," he corrected himself, "he says nasty things to me pretty much every day. But then, he says nasty things to everybody, so I'm not alone there. And, it's true; he never actually compliments me when I do a good job. At all. Ever."
Chey waited, absently wondering when the punch line was going to come.
"But," Quinn lifted his chin, "I think that's just because he expects that I already know when I've done a good job."
"Might I be so bold as to suggest he sure as hell tells you when you've done a bad job?" Chey murmured.
Quinn shrugged. "Well... That goes without saying, I think." Quinn smiled again, this time with genuine feeling. "But I will tell you something, Mr. Neeson, Sir... In the five years that I have worked here, I have received no less than five increments to my salary and three promotions."
Chey blinked, honestly surprised by that.
Seeing his expression, Quinn nodded. "So you see, just because Sir Tahna doesn't say he appreciates my work, doesn't mean that he doesn't."
"Well, Quinn," Chey held out his hand, smiling when Quinn shook it. "You've certainly given me food for thought, I'll say that much. You have good afternoon, all right?"
"I will, Sir," Quinn bobbed a little bow to him. "You too, Sir."
"QUINN!!..." Echoing down the hall and across the lobby, Tahna's shout reached them quite clearly.
Chey snorted with amusement as Quinn gave him once last fleeting smile by way of farewell before scuttling off in the direction of his disgruntled boss.
Interesting, Chey couldn't help thinking as he exited the museum into the warmth of the mid-morning sun. Although he would be the first to admit his initial meeting with the Syndicate's head of Arts and Antiquities head been rather less than successful, he certainly couldn't deny that he was completely intrigued by the man himself for some reason.
Maybe it was simply because he'd never, in his entire professional career, encountered someone who was both as offensive and amusing as Tahna Lam, all at the one time.
A somewhat evil little thought occurred to him as he descended the steps and nodded his acknowledgement to his driver for holding the car door for him. He wouldn't actually bother to contact Tahna's office at Jupiter Tower at all. He knew that wouldn't get him anywhere. No... he would make the arrangement through Iason's office instead. An official order from the Syndicate leader, regardless of how much Tahna obviously disliked him personally, was something that could not be ignored.
Chuckling, Chey settled back in the car seat and instructed his driver to take him back to Partia.
Quite frankly, he couldn't wait to see just how huge the apoplexy Tahna would suffer after he got Iason's orders would be.
And, next time, he would definitely remember the notebook.