Splendid Credentials
Posted on 14 Jan 2023 @ 2:58pm by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Timeless Treasure Gallery
Timeline: MD 7
1282 words - 2.6 OF Standard Post Measure
Upon seeing Brek in the company of two beggared Ferengi, Mrs Novikov’s first reflex was indeed to turn around and leave the gallery, but fate blocked her exit. Or rather Glutik did so, as he rushed into ‘Timeless Treasure’ at the very moment she tried to leave.
The peddlers, on their side, seeing in Mrs Novikov a gullible customer began to ply their trade once more and the same stale speech that Brek had heard ten minutes ago was rehashed. It would have been amusing to observe the Terran woman as she extricated herself from the merchants, but she looked distressed, and so he intervened.
“Gentlemen, no more ice breaking,” Brek told them. “Your ship has sailed, goodbye.” He motioned for Glutik to accompany the two Ferengi to the doors, and he turned his attention to the Terran woman.
“I’m surprised to see you here, Mrs Novikov. How can we be of mutual assistance?” Brek asked her, with as pleasant a smile as he could muster.
True to himself, Glutik shoved the two unwanted merchants out of the gallery and stood by the doors, like the good guard that he was. Novikov, who had watched his action with blatant fascination, took a couple of seconds to focus on the art dealer.
“You have an interesting... friend.” She said at last.
“Glutik is my bodyguard,” Brek corrected. He noted that today Novikov looked a little tired, which made her look less intimidating than she had been on their first encounter. “I doubt I would have gone very far in life without hired muscles.”
She looked around her, taking stock of the gallery, and Brek imagined that every time she lowered her eyelids, she was pretty much taking a judgemental snapshot of the place. She would like very few things here, he gathered, and yet here she was, wasting his time...
“Is it that you need protection from the people you have antagonized, Mr Brek?”
“Are you here to throw Ferengi platitudes at me, Mrs Novikov?” He wondered aloud. He took the white elephant among the figurines that the peddlers had left behind, and he placed it on the reception desk.
“Real white elephants have never existed,” she added, looking at the figurine.
“Oh yes, they have. Along with grey swans and black elephants, but you are too down to Earth to pay attention to such things. Are you, by any chance, here to buy some art?” This, he knew, would wake her up, and it didn’t fail, for the next moment she announced that she was here to talk about her son, Kyrill, who was, apparently, sulking.
“Ever since we spoke last night,” she explained, “his mood took a dark turn. He won’t talk or eat. And it’s all your fault for putting silly ideas in his head. You shouldn’t have suggested that he might work here as an apprentice. Now, out of spite, this is what he wants to do. You’ve placed me in an impossible situation.”
“You were the one to knock on my door,” He reminded her. “I was only trying to be helpful.”
“Well, I regret to inform you that you achieved the opposite.”
The self-righteous look she gave him almost had him bare his crooked teeth in retaliation. “Tough. Give him a couple of days, and I’m sure the lad will recover. Now, if there is nothing more, we Ferengi always have busy days...”
“There is plenty more, Mr Brek! You can’t make such a suggestion and then shrug it off.” Her mouth moved some more, but it took her a few more seconds to get the rest of her sentence out. “You will have to... respect your engagement and accept Kyrill as an apprentice.”
“The heck I will.”
“You made the suggestion.”
“Yes, well, sometimes - not often mind you - but sometimes, I’m full of hot air. I’ll call him to say that the position is no longer available.”
“If you do that, he will automatically think that I asked you to say so, and it will solve nothing at all.”
Brek, who had already retrieved his PADD, stood still. “Whose fault is that? I’m not keen on the way you’re involving me in your problems, Mrs Novikov. I barely know you, and, frankly, do not wish to...”
She took a gold card from one of her pockets and placed it on the reception desk. The item, although not as good as a slip of latinum, had its merits: it was a beautifully crafted holo-business card that read as follow:
Mrs Ingeborga Novikov
Export Sales Manager
BlueJay Import Export
He was trying to figure out how to pronounce her peculiar first name, when she went on: “In case you wonder, the company is represented by a blue jay, because it is a creature known for its intelligence along with its complex social systems with tight family bonds.”
“How is it that corporate jargon always sounds like poetry?” Brek asked with a little smile. “So, you made your point. You have splendid credentials. There should be plenty of openings there for a bright young man like your son. Why send him to a Ferengi? You had the right notion last night. It’s not a clever idea.”
“I have had the time to reflect, Mr Brek. Kyrill has taken a liking to you. I suspect that to his eyes, you represent freedom. A certain notion of cultural emancipation. Art, I’m aware, relies on feeling and intuitive taste. I think he will be happy here. Your gallery looks much better than I anticipated. I’m also quite impressed by the fact that you have an efficient bodyguard.”
Brek glanced at Glutik, who was still standing, motionless as a statue, by the gallery’s doors. “I don’t see what my Tellarite bodyguard’s got to do with the potential apprenticeship of your son.”
“It would have been of no matter, had the situation on this Station been normal,” the Terran woman agreed. “But we are on yellow alert. We may even be on red alert at any time, if the situation... deteriorates.”
“Have you heard anything specific on the matter?” Brek asked, all ears at the possibilities of juicy news on this topic.
“None whatsoever.” She admitted. “But I fear that the probability is high that things will go south. When they do, if my son happens to be here, he will not be without protection. Kyrill will also see that I’m capable of letting him breathe, away from the company’s own security details.”
“What you are doing, Mrs Novikov, is still tantamount to taking quite a gamble.” Brek said. “What if something were to happen to your precious lamb whilst he is in the gallery? You will want to kill me then.”
“You don’t seem the type to live dangerously, Mr Brek. I have seen your profile.” She insisted. “Besides, the moment we are on red alert, we civilians are also likely to be confined to the Promenade, perhaps even to our quarters. If such a thing was to happen, I’d send a couple of men to retrieve my son from your gallery.”
“How many hours do you see him spending here?” Brek asked, not exactly thrilled.
“You would be remunerated, obviously. Can we agree on four hours per week?”
“Why didn’t you say so right away? That’s what’s so infuriating with you, Hewmons. You always take detours to get what you want.” Brek took his PADD back, and browsed his collection of contracts. “Let’s contrive a neat little deal for the occasion...”
