Bureaucratic Oversight

Amés stood, arms folding impatiently across his chest. It wasn't through any fault of the Decimator crew that this experience was so frustrating for him; unfortunately, the process of dropping from hyperspace, approaching a planet, and docking with an orbital facility was just a slow and lengthy proceedure, which forced himself to stand around idle for far too long for his liking.

Of course, he could have waited out the docking proceedure in the accomodations that had been provided for him on this voyage; he certainly had no desire to watch the dull, uninteresting orb of Bespin grow larger at a painfully moderate pace in the bridge viewport. Unfortunately, this was the sort of thing that one did; it was a gesture, a tradition, and it wouldn't do at all to be seen to break with such ironclad statutes. Particularly not when the Minister of Commerce herself was in attendence.

He risked a sidelong glance at Constantia Visputin, eyes catching sight of her rather prominant profile before they managed to make the trek to her redheaded features. She was attractive enough, he supposed; just not really his cup of tea. Such relationships weren't, in general; not just romance, but any kind of interaction with other people. People were so sickeningly inefficient, problematic, and were either hideously dull or painfully overendowed with personality that they became irritating to the extreme.

One of his hands broke free, a crooked forefinger drumming against his chin as he watched the Captain - Visputin's husband, by consequence - went about his work.

She stood as she always did, one step behind and another to the left. Stylus at the ready, held lightly in slender, manicured fingers, dark eyes flitting lightly over the information scrolling across her datapad. Chestnut locks were swept up in a delicate twist, and her light make-up had been applied with a deft touch.

E'anen glanced up from her reading for a brief moment, gazing at the back of Amés' head and then lightly coursing over the other occupants of the bridge. The Minister of Commerce, Madame Visputin, a statuesque vision as she stood nearby, and in stark contrast, her husband, the Commander of the Decimator...a stereotypical military man if ever there was one.

An aide appeared at her side, carrying a missive that requested a meeting with the Minister of the Interior while he was on Bespin. Taking the young man aside, E'anen checked the schedule she kept tight control of and shook her head, writing out a formal apology that the Minister would be unable to attend. It was a minor request of the sort that Amés loathed to even consider. Nodding, she sent the aide away and stepped back to her accustomed spot, crimson stiletto heels clicking across the deck. Fingers fell to discreetly smooth out her tasteful suit, a crisp black shimmersilk jacket and matching short skirt with delicate red piping that matched her shoes.

The stylus in her fingers flew over the datapad's surface, calling up the reports she knew Amés would be asking for upon their arrival to ensure that the formatting and data was organized to his liking. E'anen knew her boss very well indeed.

"Your water." a young officer voiced subserviently, offering a glass of crystal clear, chilled beverage on a black plastic tray. Picking it up with an elegant swoop, minister Visputin smiled candidly and brought the glass to her lips, thanking the ensign with an amiable nod. A small sip was taken before Constantia tossed a pill into her mouth, a painkiller to relieve her of the headache troubling her most of the trip. It must have been the excessive air-conditioning aboard The Decimator, the redhead thought. Or perhaps it was just accumulated stress, as nobody else seemed affected by the ventilation.

"Amés, are our schedules synchronized yet?" the minister inquired, shifting attention to his assistant - "Ms.Brast, do you have the schedule then? I'd like some spare time tomorrow evening, if possible, to visit the spa. Gods know I need a vacation. Would it pose a problem?"

Unlike Liszt, Constantia was rather friendly to all subordinates, exercising strictness only if they failed to do what she assigned them to do, which was rare to begin with. If there was something she respected and liked, it was Brast's tactfulness whilst dealing with minister Liszt - he was a difficult man to please.

A spa? Oh, how blissfully efficient a way of wasting time. I'm sure the public will be thrilled to hear that important governmental business was put on hold so you could spend time getting pampered in a spa.

Amés kept the words internal of course, and the flash of targetted scorn and disapproval that swept across his features went completely unnoticed atop the background scorn and disapproval he seemed to have for life in general. A fist pressed against his lips, and a slight brow formed on his face, his eyes still intently staring out of the viewport ahead.

With effort, he managed to unclench his jaw, and let his eyebrows rise in the most amiable expression he knew how to muster as he turned his head to address Visputin directly. "I'm sure that won't be a problem at all," he lied, the hand at his mouth falling away, turning palm upwards in a half shrug. He let it drop back into his folded arm, a twitch of frown forming again as he glanced towards E'anen's datapad, rather than at the assistant herself. "Make the appropriate arrangements, will you, Brast?"

It took but a flick of her stylus to bring up the synchronized schedules, dark eyes flicking across the meetings listed for tomorrow. Green indicated Amés' appointments, blue for Constantia's, and red indicated their joint meetings and other sessions.

The stylus rose to tap across her plump lower lip, dark eyes rising to meet the lady's gaze before rising further to acknowledge Amés. She knew what that furrowed brow meant, the impeccably veiled disdain for all things that were a waste of time in his eyes. Which, in reality, were most things.

"Of course, sir." E'anen nodded and turned slightly to offer the lady a smile. "Yes, Madam Minister...everything is synchronized as requested. I show a block of two hours free just after dinner tomorrow evening. Shall I inquire as to the available spa services? I hear the Chandrilan Stone Massage is particularly relaxing."

Below the command deck, in the technician's pit towards the rear of the bridge, a Lieutenant paused from reviewing his subordinate's commscan survey of the Anoat system long enough to catch a glimpse of the gawking, gabbing, and useless bureaucreats and civilians taking up space on their bridge. Well under earshot, he grumbled to the ensign.

"Politicians, we don't need their scum."

...and promptly froze as the Captain walked past. Wygraant said nothing at all, but gave an icy look of disapproval to his Lieutenant's loose lips. There were certain things you could certainly think, but never say.

The Captain absolutely detested this mission, but he wasn't going to utter a word of that, especially to his wife. She thought that the time together would be stimulating. He felt like a man apart with his wife on his ship. Somehow, as if her very presence made him less ready for combat. Then again, this was about the most combat-free task he was going to find on a Star Destroyer in the Imperial Navy. At this rate, he longed to return to patrolling backwater star systems.

"Lieutenant, report."

A bit sheepish, the Lieutenant passed a datapad to his superior.

"Commscan reports all activity as normal. No hyperspace insertions since our own. The Merciless is in orbit of Bespin, and the strike cruiser Scorpion is on deep sector patrol."

Wygraant looked glumly at the datapad, walking away.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

He returned to the unenviable task of baby-sitting important people.

"Ministers, our docking procedures are on schedule. We will have secure berth within five minutes. If you prefer, I have a shuttle already prepared if you wish to travel to Cloud City without delay."

"No need, Ms. Brast. I already know where I wish to go." the minister said, thanking Liszt's assistant with a smile before turning to her employer. Having known Amés for quite some time, Constantia knew well how he ticked; an efficient and dilligent workoholic, the minister of Interior Affairs detested any efforts that were not work-related. For that matter, he probably saw no purpose in paying the spa a visit. Yet, asking about his assistant joining her was worth a shot.

"I was hoping you'd let your assistant join, Amés. Those two hours of relaxation do wonders to body and mind. Haven't you read? Companies are starting to give out wellness vouchers to their best employees, to fight stress and enhance productivity." she asserted, knowing there was much truth in her words. Besides, the break would surely bring benefits to both.
Just before Amés had the time to voice his opinion of the proposal, Rolth appeared from behind his wife, almost startling her.

Spinning on her feel, she straightened out her gray business suit and slid her palm down the side of her skirt to iron out a bleak crease.
"Captain Wygraant." the redhead voiced sternly, her arms automatically clasping behind her back as there was no room for sentimentality - "The sooner we are on the planet, the better. We will make use of the shuttle."
A fleeting glance was given to Liszt, in search of silent approval of her choice. Surely, he would appreciate the immediacy.

Amés fought a grim smile from his lips and a sigh from his throat as he considered Visputin's initial proposal. The Commerce Minister was of the younger, newer breed of politician who'd come into being recently. They were the kind who believed in creating a pleasant working environment for their employees, and who wanted to feel friendly and approachable. The very notion of intentially increasing potential contact with the tiresome and cretinous underlings that Amés was expected to deal with turned his stomach. That's what he employed Brast for: to run interference with the masses, so that Amés himself only had to deal with the cream of the cretin crop.

Amés didn't know if visiting spas, or other such needless frivolities were a common occurance for Miss Brast. Frankly, he didn't particularly care. Brast was pleanty efficient at her job, and while he hardly subscribed to the notion that what he didn't know couldn't harm him, he was at least comfortable in his blissful ignorance, for now at least. Vestages of his early career prevented him from passing up the potential opportunity to have his most trusted underling spend two hours relaxing in close proximity with the Commerce Minister however; who knew what kinds of interesting rumours and references she could pick up on. Brast, he had discovered, had something of a flair for quiet observation, and subtly coaxing accidental truths out of those she spent time with. Perhaps this spa visit could turn into a potentially valuable use of time after all.

Visputin's subsequent suggestion regarding the shuttle barely had time to register in his mind before he agreed vehemently with it. The sooner they got off this floating hunk of durasteel, the better. He had no problem with ships in general; and he of course realised the irony that Cloud City itself was a floating city wrought from such metal as well. It was more a concern regarding the preservation of his sanity than of his safety: while Captain Wygraant had been kind enough to share tea of a much finer quality on occasion during their voyage, the noxious brew made available in the so-called VIP Quarters aboard the Decimator was simply unsatisfactory. He could only hope that Cloud City would be able to provide him with something more respectful of his refined taste.

"Yes," he agreed eventually, mild disinterest in his offhand reply. "The shuttle. Quite right."

Not wasting a moment, Wygraant punched a wall comm to alert his troops to prepare a diplomatic guard detatchment, and have them prepared to board the shuttle.

"Very good then."

Gesturing to the lift, he bade his guests to travel with him to the secondary hangar bay.

"This way please."

* * *

The trip to the bay took only a minute, and went without incident. He was pleased to see that, upon arrival, a cadre of his best-trained stormtrooper detatchment was already flanking each side of the Lambda shuttle's ramp, still as statues.

With Amés' unspoken approval, E'anen permitted herself a small smile and a brief nod to Constantia. While such frivolities were not part of her normal routine, it would be a lovely way to unwind for a change. Different from her usual glass of wine and briefing reports. Her work, she mused, was truly never done.

"By your leave, sir, I'll see to our things and meet you aboard the shuttle." she said with deference, before dipping her head to both him and Constantia and taking her leave of the bridge.

Knowing her boss and having worked for him as long as she had, she knew without being told what he'd expect of her even as she indulged herself at the spa. All knowledge, Brast, is worth having...she could still hear him telling her that the day he'd hired her. E'anen would be discreetly alert, of course...it wasn't in her nature to be anything else.

Some few minutes later, she'd done a thorough check of both sets of quarters, and packed up all of their official documents into her attaché case. As several crew members came to take the luggage, she followed behind them to ensure they were both delivered and secured properly in the shuttle. By the time the ministers descended from the bridge to the hanger bay, E'anen was ready and waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp.