The Freelance Traveller (freetrav) wrote,
The Freelance Traveller
freetrav

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First Scene

As I indicated in my previous entry, I'm looking for honest and constructive comment/criticism.


Gaamila Corribant stood and stretched as the final chords of the symphony died into silence. It was clear to him that Eneri Managudeli really didn't understand Terran musical forms, no matter how much he was praised for his mastery of them - all he was doing was mechanically working his way through the textbook changes to the basic theme, with no real emotional coherence, and little more imagination in the accompaniment. "Even after six of the forsaken things, he still can't get it right," Corribant thought. Nevertheless, the composer would be the guest of honor at the club next Sixday, and since Corribant was to be the senior club officer present, some familiarity with Managudeli's Terran Symphonies was advisable.

He touched a control on the console, selecting office mode instead of library mode. The room lights brightened, and the console displays changed, showing the locations of his ships and an index of current contracts. There was also an indicator that the majordomo wished to speak to him, but that the matter did not appear to be of sufficient importance to disturb him while he had the library set for 'do not disturb'. He acknowledged the majordomo's request, and stepped out into the hall to meet the majordomo coming toward the office, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Sir, a messenger brought this card and a verbal message, and indicated that he was not instructed to wait for a response." The majordomo handed Corribant what looked like a calling card. "The verbal message is, exactly, 'There is importance, but no urgency as yet.' I do not recognize the name on this card, and the name does not appear in any of my usual research sources."

Corribant looked at the card, and spoke to his majordomo, "Don't worry; I recognize the name, and already know the usual information you bring me." He slipped the card into the inside pocket of his vest. "I'm afraid I need to call on someone unexpectedly. Please have the electric readied immediately; don't call for a driver, I'll handle it myself. I'll be in the office; just alert my console when it's ready."

He stepped back into his office and closed the door, removing the card from his pocket as he did so. There was no question but that he would recognize the name; it was his own, although the name on the card was not "Gaamila Corribant," nor anything even vaguely close. More important was the date and symbol written in one corner of the back; it told him when he had given someone that card, and to whom.

Tags: writing
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