Swamp Fever
Posted on 10 Nov 2022 @ 7:59am by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Promenade - Timeless Treasure Art Gallery
Timeline: MD06 - 1645HRS
1766 words - 3.5 OF Standard Post Measure
Brek was pacing the exhibition room in his gallery in front of his placid, but charming looking holo-assistant. Now and then, his eyes would be caught by one of the paintings on display: misty landscapes, sunsets, and even a couple of space scenes. When you only looked casually at those scenes, they were rather banal. You would find the same type of contributions in a multitude of galleries, including those on Earth or Bajor. Romulan art differed because most paintings held a secret message. In those you could find little points and jests made against certain senators. Some, more complex to decipher, also contained warnings. For most people, those were meaningless, since those clever cryptograms often related to past events. But the devil was always in the detail, and Brek loved them.
After a little homework and detective work. he had discovered a decent example of Ferengi art. The painting was called ‘Swamp Ogogpo’: A Ferengi landscape showing in minute details the wildlife of that swamp, showing, beyond the murky waters, the huge peaks of the Peevers Mountains. There were so many insect and batrachian eyes painted on that canvas that it made him feel a little dizzy. It was nonetheless a fantastic view, with a gazillion of amazing colours. Some might label it as ‘in your face Ferengi nonsense’, but he loved it. Loved it so much that he needed to get his hands on it. Not next month or next week, but right now.
Alas, the painting, though obscure and, as such not exactly sought after, was surprisingly difficult to purchase.
“Listen,” Brek said to Rokor, the art dealer he had contacted via his PADD. “From what I’ve seen, no one wants this painting. So why can’t I have it? I am willing to pay a good price for it.”
“Indeed you are. Which is highly unusual.” Rokor, who looked remarkably like a rodent, with malevolent eyes, made an infuriating long pause here. “ For you see, no one is allowed to buy it.”
Brek stopped his pacing. Rokor was so elusive as to be suspicious. “How can that be? I have never heard of anything like it. Among Ferengi everything has a price! Unless... has it already found its way into an art collection? If so, you must give me the name of its owner.” At this point, the desire to possess this painting was so high that Brek knew he might just do something stupid to satisfy his greed. The craving was there, within him, like a second personae, and this new figure demanded to be fed immediately.
“No... You are not following,” Rokor countered. “What did you say your name was?”
“Brek, I too am an art dealer and I...”
“Let me stop you right there, Mr Brek,” Rokor went on, his voice imperative. “This painting you’ve unearthed from I don’t know where, wasn’t meant to exist. It is an aberration and it is scheduled to be destroyed. Yes, exactly. You heard me right. This administrative order had first been scheduled for... Well... last month. But... hmm.... The person who committed this atrocious painting managed to counter the order. Now , let me see... Oh my oh my... There is now an administrative battle over this issue. Very unusual, considering the circumstances. But it might actually last for a few decades. It is unprecedented. On the plus side, huge sums of money will change hands here, which of course is excellent for business - only not mine...”
Brek stared at Nyasha, his holo-assistant, who smiled at him as if this was the most interesting moment of her holo-life. This was the downside with holo characters. They were perfect on the outside, but completely hollow on the inside. An unfortunate trait that, for it meant he would never be able to have an argument with that assistant. And he liked hot debates and wit quite a lot.
“You have completely lost me,” Brek added, resumed his conversation with the annoying art dealer. “What is wrong with this painting?! I find it perfectly fine. Is the artist a criminal? Has this piece of art been seized by some liquidators? Speak the truth, Mr Rokor!”
“It is more damning than that, my dear colleague. The artist, Kreca, is female.”
“So what?” Brek said, impatient. A long silence followed his sharp comment, and at last he realized his blunder. Among Ferengi, it was still ill-mannered to question the rights of females. They had none and were forbidden to make any sort of profits. Including, then, the selling of any sort of art. “I see...” He added more prudently.
“I am glad you do, Mr Brek. Can we agree that we are wasting our time here? You will never be able to purchase this painting, and I cannot help you. It is impossible. Whoever let that female approach a brush should be heavily fined! Goodbye dear colleague, and if you ever call again, please be more sensible this time.”
The screen on his Ferengi PADD went blank and Brek sighed. He would have loved to be in the same room as that Rokor to give him a longer piece of his mind.
“I think the only thing you can do now is to contact the artist,” Nyasha said, looking a little puzzled now. “She is the only person who can solve this conundrum.”
Brek blinked at the holo-assistant. He had honestly forgotten she could speak. “You are right. Thank you Nyasha.” He was about to do so, but Nyasha moved on to another topic, reminding him that he was also supposed to approach those restaurants operating on O.C. with regards to the grand opening of his gallery.
“You said you wanted canapés and Gold colored Risian wine, Mr Brek. Can you confirm that it is so?” She added. “I need to ask, because Mr Glutik...” Here Nyasha frowned, but she still looked delightful. “He has interfered with your requests, adding various items such as: chocolate ravioli, Jumbo Romulan mollusks and shrimp cocktails.”
“Shrimp cocktails?” Brek echoed. “Are we still in the 70s?? How ludicrous. I refuse to have cheap food. Remove those items, Nyasha, and from now on, only keep to my words. Glutik serves as my bodyguard. He has no right tempering with my files. Never forget that.”
“I won’t Mr Brek. I have located the whereabouts of Ms Kreca.” Nyasha then said.
“Ah, excellent! I’ll talk to her in my office.”
The Ferengi artist was a frail and worried creature, most certainly underfed, Brek assumed. She looked at him with a tired expression, yet around her were multiple signs that what had happened to her ‘Swamp Ogogpo’ painting had not diminished her artistic exploits, for she was surrounded with canvas, paintbrushes and paint sets.
After a quick presentation, the conversation began as such:
“If you called to berate me, say your piece and be gone.” Kreca announced whilst she worked on a new painting, applying a lot of green on her canvas.
“Berate? What an idea.” Brek replied with a big smile. He wanted to look like a friend, and not a foe. “No, I contacted you because I want to buy your swamp painting. I absolutely love it. I must have it. Your price is mine!”
“You have swamp fever, I see, Mr Brek. What sort of fool do you think I am?” She glanced at him, and in her eyes he was happy to notice a glimmer of curiosity. “The moment I accept your latinum, I’ll be fined for trying to make a profit.”
“And still you paint...” Brek remarked.
“For my pleasure, Brek. Incredible as it is, I still have the right to exist.”
“I’m glad you do. And I am, how to put it... on your side. I’d like to help you.” Brek added, feeling inspired by the vibrant colours that were appearing on the canvas. “Why don’t you leave Ferenginar? You’d have more freedom, simply by being more difficult to track by our Commerce Alliance.”
“I would rather keep my fight at home, thank you. I am not like you, who took your fight as far away from Ferenginar as you could.” Seeing his puzzled look, she added. “I consulted your profile before taking your call. You have an interesting past. But you took the easy way out. And why not? As a male, you face no limitations.”
Here an uninvited silence descended upon them, as Brek racked his brain to figure out something positive to say. While he did so, he observed that the artist seemed to be painting a line of trees on a little hill.
Kreca sighed. “It is so easy to outwit men. You only speak through your latinum. So when money cannot solve a situation, your spirit evaporates and the wheels of commerce halt, just like that.” She puffed. “It is pitiful. Have you really nothing more to say?”
“I have plenty to say,” Brek countered. “But the years I spent in diplomacy have taught me to be circumspect. Since you are unable to sell ‘Swamp Ogogpo’, why don’t you give it to me?”
She laughed, at first openly, but it died down into sarcasm. “Mr Brek, I expected better of you. Your gender has had enough freebies from us ‘females’.” She put her brushes aside and glared at him. “Don’t you think?”
“Never take the easy road, even in your thoughts, Ms Kreca.” Brek added. How old was his interlocutor? He has no idea. Anything between 40 and 50. But he would never say that aloud. You mistake the age of a woman at your peril. “I am suggesting the creation of a shell company, which will allow us a certain ease in... financial manoeuvres. You would receive payment for your art via this company. But all eyes would believe that you donated this painting to me.”
“But this would damage my reputation,” Kreca countered, looking very much displeased.
“You have to remain positive. It would bring you freedom and open many doors to you. Forget Ferenginar and its narrow minded bureaucrats. They live in the past. Join the present and the galaxy!”
“I don’t know...”
In the gallery, he heard Nyasha greeting a potential customer, his very first one. “Well, think about it, Ms Kreca. But don’t take too long, for fear that my swamp fever disappears...”
He found it judicious to end the discussion here, and turn his attention to whoever had pushed the doors of ‘Timeless Treasure’.
