Pilot: Chapter 18

Elena pushed open the door and entered the restaurant. Peter followed and looked around the room. A look of approval crossed his face. Elena couldn’t decide if the approval meant the restaurant was upscale enough to suit his tastes or if the tables were far enough apart for their conversation. She shook her head.

‘The last place I want to be is inside a council member’s head,’ she told herself. The hostess walked towards them with a smile.

“Elena,” she said reaching out both hand and pulling Elena in for a peck on the cheek. “It is nice to see you.”

“Hello Maria,” Elena said returning the smile. She noticed Maria’s gaze travel to Peter. “I’d like you to meet Peter Baranov. He is an old family friend in town for a few days on business.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Maria said.

“And you as well,” he replied with a smile. From the twinkle in his eyes Elena was fairly certain he found his introduction amusing.

‘But when does Peter not find me amusing?’ she asked herself. Maria escorted them to a table and told them the waitress would be right over.

“You seem to rank a very nice table,” Peter commented. Elena raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly around the room, taking in the only two other occupied tables.

“All of the tables at Enzo’s are nice tables but an early dinner meant there are many more choices.”

“Of course,” Peter said. “And I’m sure everyone gets as enthusiastic a greeting as well.”

“Maria is a friend of mine,” she said. “There is nothing wrong with having friends.”

“Nothing at all,” Peter said. “Just as there is nothing wrong with having employees who care about you.”

“You do not like my staff at the store?” Elena asked stiffly. Peter waved off her offense.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said. “I merely found it of interest that you are so well liked.”

“Because I am not worth liking?”

“No, I didn’t mean…” Peter sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Elena found watching Peter trip over his words to be an interesting experience. “May I begin again?”

“If you think it would help.”

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head slightly. The waitress interrupted Peter’s restart to ask for their drink choices. She handed them menus and recited the specials of the day. Elena barely listened to the specials and didn’t bother opening the menu. Today she wanted comfort food and that meant chicken Parmesan. The waitress left to being their drinks.

“Most people in the guild tend to be insular,” peter began as she left. “We tend to associate with only those we can safely tell about our exploits. Which means we associate closely with pilots and other family members. The pilots are often the most insular. I did not expect that you would have…” Peter searched for the correct word and Elena got the impression he was trying not to insult her again. She took pity on him.

“Blend so well with normal society?” She finished the thought.

“Yes,” he said with relief.

“When I left I the Guild, I ceased having exploits to hide,” she said with a shrug.

“Those who leave the guild are often the worst at blending in. It is as if to do so means that they must fully acknowledge that their world has changed. They often return after a year or so.”

“Ah,” Elena said, unsure how else to comment. The waitress set their drinks on the table. Elena squeezed the lemon into the water and dropped it into the glass. She took a sip while Peter perused the menu.

“So what is good here?” he asked.

“Everything,” Elena replied. “I am partial to the chicken Parmesan though.” She turned towards the waitress. “I would like to order that please.” The waitress nodded and turned towards Peter.

“I believe I will have the same,” he said. She left with their menus tucked under her arm and their orders tucked into her head. Elena sipped her water and looked at peter. The soft lighting suited him. It softened his edges and made him seem more charming than dangerous.

‘But maybe that is just the atmosphere,’ she thought. The mood of Enzo’s had always struck her as romantic. The soft lighting, warm colors, low candles floating in small bowls of water all combined to have a romantic feel. ‘Which is why they are always booked three deep for Valentine’s Day.’ Even though the room was a large one it didn’t feel overly large it felt as though each table were it’s own separate world. ‘Perfect for a romantic liaison. Or,’ she thought wryly, ‘The perfect place to have a private conversation in a public venue. Just my luck I got the second option.’ She sighed realizing how long it had actually been since she had a real date. ‘Too busy for my own good,’ she thought.

“So,” Peter began. “Normally all business discussions would wait until after the meal, but I wonder if you would mind discussing business during?” Peter asked. “If you are uncomfortable with this we can of course wait.” Elena thought of spending the next hour maintaining idle small talk and thought that would make her more uncomfortable than a business discussion over food.

“I’m fine mixing business with food on this occasion,” She said. “The circumstances are unusual enough to warrant a bending of the rules of etiquette.” Peter sighed with relief and Elena wondered if he was having problems thinking of small talk as well. She was a bit nervous about the discussion and figured comfort food might help it go down easier.

‘Although they have asked a lot,’ she thought. While she could easily see them asking for more she had a feeling the council was also in her debt. ‘Its that whole friend of the guild thing. It would be nice to know what that entailed.’

“Thank you,” he said. “The first thing we should deal with is the military.”

“I agree,” she said. To her mind they were far and away the largest of her current problems.

“We will try to keep them to a minimum of meetings, after all your time is quite valuable.”

“And fewer meetings limit the amount they can learn,” Elena commented as the waitress returned with two loaded plates.

“Exactly,” Peter said.

“Thank you,” Elena said to the waitress as the plate was placed in front of her. A basket of fresh breadsticks was placed between her and Peter. She asked if they needed anything and left when they said they didn’t.

“You will however be given great leniency in dealing with them and allowed to use your own opinion as to which topics are too sensitive to mention. There are a few we will ask you to avoid discussion.”

“And if something comes up that I am uncertain about?” She asked.

“I will serve as your point of contact and will give you my numbers before I leave.” Peter smiled and picked up his knife and fork to cut a piece of chicken. “While we know you can easily call your grandfather, politics is not his strong suit and the council felt it was more beneficial for me to serve as your advisor in this.”

“I can understand that,” Elena said, cutting her own bite of chicken. “Putting Smith and Grandfather in the same room would be like throwing gasoline on a fire. And as an advisor I think he would naturally object to giving the military any information.”

“True.” Peter took a bite of his meal and smiled. “This was an excellent recommendation,” he said after swallowing.

“Always my favorite,” she told him taking her own bite.

“I have the feeling Smith will want you to meet with them nearly every night so I would suggest penciling in a few random evenings before tomorrow if you wish to keep them free.”

“Good advice.”

“I think once a week or once every two weeks should be sufficient. And if done on week nights I should still leave your weekends free.” Elena smiled.

“The store is only really closed on Sundays,” she told him. I rarely get a full weekend off.”

“Do you have the same rule as your grandfather about Sundays?” he asked.

“It isn’t as hard and fast as his but I do like to have at least one day to myself.”

“So you still allow that the rest of the world exists on Sunday then?”

“Sometimes,” she answered with a grin. Amazingly she actually felt quite comfortable with him. “I didn’t realize you knew him that well.”

“Everyone knows of Alexandro’s rule,” he told her with a smile

“Would you be willing to give up at least one other night a week as well?” he asked.

“I suppose I could. Why?”

“Business,” He replied. Even if you chose not to be in business with me I would like to talk with you about your connections and how you made them. The choices you made and why, that sort of thing. It seems as though it might be a good business model for many of our guild.”

“I suppose I could do that,” she replied thoughtfully. She was seriously considering working with him and her grandfather on expanding the business and had already begun making a mental list of requirements. ‘But no need to tell him that yet,’ she thought.

“You would of course be compensated for your time. The Council has a standard consultants fee schedule. It could be adjusted if it does not suit you. I will have someone send it to you for your approval.”

“Thank you,” she replied, unsure what else to say. He looked pleased by her response and she let it go.

“So will you be looking forward to working with your family again?” he asked. “It must have been difficult leaving them all.”

“Since you might be working with me you should be aware there is some family friction,” she told him with a grimace.

“Oh?”

“There is friction between Therese and I. I am certain she will not like you working with me.”

“I see. Well the Baranovs will survive her bad feelings I am certain. You cousin Mateo, is he in bad graces with you as well?”

“No,” Elena replied. “Mateo and I get along quite well.”

“That is something then,” Peter replied. “I have seen much of his work. He is quite gifted.”

“Yes he is. Actually,” she said thoughtfully, “I might ask him about some of Ian’s workings on the military ships. He is much better at the mechanics of things than I am.”

“Sounds like a good idea then. Will he be working with you as you secure your own goods?”

“My own goods?”

“Yes as your grandfather has secured another pilot you are of course free to pilot your own vessel. Many of our best pilots become both captain and pilot after they have matured. Or does this not appeal to you?”

“It has great appeal, providing the Calling can be tamed, however there is one problem. I don’t have a ship and the money I had saved to purchase one when it was time to strike out on my own I invested in my store. I now have inventory, not a ship.”

“I see,” he said, a small smile playing around his lips.

“Besides, it takes a long time to build and outfit a hip properly. Even if I commissioned one tomorrow I would have a long wait ahead of me. And that is assuming I could get on the waiting list.”

“Sometimes the list is not so long,” he said. Peter set his fork down on his plate and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a leather packet that looked to hold papers. He set it on the table next to Elena’s plate and then picked up his fork to resume eating.

“What is that?” she asked, gesturing to the packet.

“Papers,” he replied.

“Papers for what?”

“For the Storm Chaser.”

“The Storm Chaser?” She asked, her loaded fork frozen halfway between her mouth and her plate.

“Yes, just off the line and fully tested, as the papers certify. They are in your name of course.”

“My name,” she repeated feeling stupid.

“Of course. You are now the owner of the Storm Chaser. I believe she is berthed with the Wind Dancer at the moment, however you are free to designate a port of your choice and the Council will send it there.”

“I own the Storm Chaser?”

“Yes,” Peter said with a chuckle. “Did you really think the council would require so much of you with out providing adequate compensation?”

“I expected something,” she said feeling breathless. “But this was certainly not it.”

“You are going to lead a team including two members of the military on an extremely politically charged trip through the channels, you have also agreed to take time out of your already busy schedule to act as Guild liaison, which should ultimately lead the military to the conclusion that it is a completely impractical endeavor for them to even bother with the channels and you warned us of Ian’s betrayal. This is not something that should be cheaply reimbursed.”

“I’m not so sure about the military though,” she warned him. “I can see where they would find the channels to be very useful.” She forced herself to resume her meal even though her fingers itched to grab the papers and pour over them like a greedy child. Elena tries not to look at the packet as if she had just been offered the moon and several of the stars to do something she would have done anyway.

“You will not be allowed to take them on your ship of course,” he cautioned her.

“Isn’t that why you gave me the Storm Chaser? If it is a new ship then it is a blank slate no history or old log books to deal with.”

“It also has the latest technology,” he reminded her. “The military is all about high tech. The Wind Dancer has been volunteered as the ship to make the trip. It is older, you are familiar with it, the Calabrese Family owns it and its entire crew is Italian. All very good points.”

“That makes sense,” she said. “Will they all be speaking Italian for the duration of the trip?”

“Of course,” he said with a wink. “We don’t plan on telling the military that and with luck the person or people they send will not have the language and only e able to speak to you. Besides if they continue to believe that a pilot must sail under the direction of a separate Captain it will be safe for you.”

It was logic she could not dispute so she let it pass and they finished their meal in companionable silence. As they left the building the black sedan pulled up to the curb and as far as Elena could see Peter had not summoned it. She chalked it up to mental telepathy and got into the car. They drove directly to Elena’s apartment building without her having to provide directions, a fact she restrained herself from commenting on. As she got out of the car she wondered if she was expected to put the two men up for the night. Somehow she couldn’t see them sharing her pull out couch.

“We sill pick you up at nine,” Peter said, laying her fears to rest.

“Sounds good,” she said. The car stayed where it was until she entered the door to her apartment building, something she appreciated. She climbed the stairs with the leather packet clutched tight in her hands. Soon she would see the details of the Storm Chaser.

“My own ship,” she said to herself with a smile. Elena took the stairs two at a time.