Isn't Yumfla a fruit? (Judah Dashiell)

[Mya Jesel]

Mya leaned back in her office chair and winced at the cracking sounds that burst from her spine. She needed to get out and move more. Do some more piloting and loading. Not spend so much time huddled over a desk reading files, letters, and reports in poor lighting. But she had an appointment soon, with a Judah Dashiell, the first investor to take up her offer to bring in foreign investment. He seemed like the perfect one as well. Respectable. No terrorist or One Sith ties she had been able to discover.

She shoved several datapads away from the seats across from her own and moved a light so the small cluttered room wasn't quite so dingy. Not the image she wanted to portray, but as a junior politician, she really didn't have much say in what she got for an office. It was either a converted closet in the back of the old fortress that loomed in the center of the city or a tiny stipend to rent some space. She'd rented some space with as little of the stipend as possible. The rest she put in a fund for injured and disabled spacers. For her own people, those with fuel for blood and stars for hearts, cut off from their home and stuck groundside. There was a minor scandal but just how she stood with her people, her people stood with her. They backed her decision and even offered to reimburse the Treasurer for funds used for the common good. That had shut things up right quick and other politicians had even made donations. Many larger than hers, yes, but that didn't mean they meant more. Lip service to a demographic they didn't represent or understand but wanted their vote.

So here she was, preparing to make her first big deal as a politician. She took a deep breath and flipped her braid back over shoulder so it would be out of the way. What was she offering? Tax credits. Delayed taxes for three years. Assistance in finding location and meetings with the best local construction companies. All designed to create jobs here with extra-planetary funds. This was completely doable.

Even if she did have to do in a poorly lit room on a durasteel desk with folding chairs and files and overflowing boxes stacked all over the place. Hopefully that wouldn't be a turn-off for the deal, but she didn't have the room or the staff to keep the information anywhere else. She was near the sea at least, so it had its charm. The waves against the harbor were heard below the constant thrum of speeder engines and heavy repulsorlifts moving cargo. The smell of saltwater and fish wasn't quite as pleasant, but had a charm all its own.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

The smell of the ocean didn't bother him, even the more unpleasant smells of 'fish stink' in the afternoon heat. Perhaps it was due to living ocean front for many years at this point. Maybe for a once-poor farmboy it was still a novelty that hadn't lost its charm. Today he found himself on a marginally busy planet, facing a meeting about possible investment. Not far off the Rimma Trade Route, there was some appeal. Most of his operations in this sector of the Galaxy ran on this route. A potential bonus for this planet.


Blue eyes scanned for the office of one [member="Mya Jesel"] . Judah didn't know much about her or the planet. It was independent, at least for now. Another plus in his operations. Too much government oversight made businesses run to the hills. Not that all of it was bad. Nitpicking wasn't a headache he felt like dealing with anytime soon.


Finding the office building that matched the numbers he was given, he entered the lobby, scouting out names on the placards. He would take a slightly rickety turbolift a few floors up to a featureless hallway lined with doors. Mentally counting the door numbers, the shaggy salvager reached the door indicated for Jesel. Or at least thats what he hoped.


He rapped his knuckles against the wood, waiting for a response.

 

[Mya Jesel]

[member="Judah Dashiell"]

Mya sat stiffly in her her chair, back straight and shoulders square. A proper cadet's stance, except that for cadets, this was supposed to be confidence. For her, this was nervousness. It gnawed at her stomach and threatened to jettison the ballast up her throat. Everything hinged on this deal. Then she caught herself. No, it really didn't. There would be other opportunities in the future. If it didn't pan out, there would be more. There was a galaxy full of investors aiming to make a profit and it would happen here. She would make it happen at one time or another.

Footsteps echoed outside in the hallway. She tensed and clasped her hand against her desk, gritting her teeth as the pressure bit into her hands. Then the knock and she nearly jumped out of her seat. That was not the way to act as an official representative of Susefvi. She took a deep breath, stood, and walked over to the door and pulled it open. No flourish. No hesitancy. She was into the role now and her cue had been called.

"Mr. Dashiell, I believe? Please, come in and have a seat." She stretched out her hand to indicate the spare seats opposite her own amidst the mostly-cleared desk. "Can I get you anything to drink? I have a local delicacy here, if you would like to sample it. A type of tea brewed from seaweed and flavored other native spices." Mya herself couldn't stand the stuff, but it was part of the showcase of the planet. Why in the stars anyone on Susevfi liked it enough to consider it a delicacy, write enthralled reviews about various blends, and then drink even more was beyond her.

She stepped back into the room, pushing a box of rules and regulations she'd found moldering in a basement away from the door so he would have a clearer path into the room and to the desk. The drink was also to make the room a little less like an overstuff interrogation chamber. Much longer and she'd just start holding office hours at the starport to make everything simpler. But it would be important to see how this turned out first.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Judah picked his way through the office, sitting on the metal chair across from a tiny desk. Words about a traditional drink...some tea...drifted towards him. He paused, wondered if saying 'no' would offend the woman. Various cultures had various customs and frankly he hadn't had the time to brush up on the locals of Susevfi. Perhaps it would be better to decline int his cause than choke on seaweed tea.


"I get enough seaweed and kelp drinks in at home. My wife and son love the green stuff. Myself...not so much. Don't let me stop you from drinking some tea though. I'm just going to pass for now, thank you."


Eyes looked around the office. It was cramped with a high number of boxes. Perhaps the woman had just transferred in from another department. A scandal perhaps? Files to be looked through? It was hard to say but the people of Susevfi could certainly be in use of a digital database instead of box city.



[member="Mya Jesel"]