A History of Currency

Posted on 14 Mar 2023 @ 8:39pm by Lieutenant Commander Maurice Rubens & Moon-Young Chung

Mission: M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Obsidian Command: Maurice Rubens' Quarters
Timeline: MD10: 0530 HR
2312 words - 4.6 OF Standard Post Measure

Moon quietly padded out into the dimly lit living space in her pink and green polka dot pajamas and took a moment to admire the scene she discovered. Rice had shoved a silver case sitting on the table aside and was sitting there reading a PADD – the most recent news reports, she guessed correctly. There was a white porcelain mug of coffee, his fingers wrapped around the thick handle. This was a familiar scene; Rice had always been an early riser, even when he went to bed late. The news was a gimme, the man was hunted intelligence from any and every source. The coffee completed the early morning ritual. By this time, he was on his second, a touch of cream, a pinch of sugar.

Nothing else about this him and this place, however, was familiar. There was no early morning sun lighting up the horizon. Out the windows, the stars still shone brightly on their black canvas. The sounds of a city waking up were missing, too. No dogs barking as their owners walked them along the street. No hovercars’ landing and taking-off, zooming neighbors to work. Rice himself was different. His hair was a few inches shorter and styled in a conservative fashion, as opposed to slightly ruffled. There was no ghost of stubble on his face. No fancy watch on his wrist. Instead of half-dressed in a civilian suit, Rice was have dressed in a uniform. Magenta shirt. She always thought he should introduce more color into his wardrobe, but wouldn’t have necessarily chosen magenta for him. Moon had to admit he could pull it off. Good to know.

The room lights were dim, but in the minute Moon had been standing there, she swore they’d inched up in intensity. It occurred to her maybe he had them set to mimic the rising sun. Smart. The initial excitement of both arriving, finding Rice, and becoming engaged had her ready for the day. Though once this feeling faded, she hoped her early morning grouchiness would pass just as quickly with lights as with sunshine.
It was a glimpse of life living in space. A true adventure, a true change. She wondered what else she was going to discover in the days to come. But first: tea. Green. Hot. With lots of honey.

Rice glanced up at her as she went over to the replicator, but didn’t say a word: typical and normally the correct move. She hated morning chitchat and preferred to sleep late. The replicator materialized her own mug, a surprising red and yellow striped (Rice must have remembered to program the machine for her) and then went down to sit next to him.
She stared at him, a half-smile on her face until he glanced up at her.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re awake and smiling? You know what time it is?”

“Actually,” Moon looked around for a clock, but couldn’t find one, “no.”

“It’s very early for you.”

“Maybe I don’t need sleep. Maybe your love is better than rest or any stimulant.”

“Uh-huh. Right.” He flicked his PADD off and set it down on the table. “You need to send a message to your dad. He finally broke down sometime in the night and sent me an urgent request to contact him about you.”

“Oh, shoot. I told him I’d send him a message everyday until I saw you. Between filling out all that paperwork yesterday, meeting Brek, and exploring the station I just forgot.”

“‘Brek?’ That name sounds Ferengi?”

“He is, in fact, Ferengi.”

“Well, don’t buy anything from him. Or do anything for him. Or tell him any secrets. Or – ”

“I'm having lunch with him today and he is very nice,” Moon said, cutting of Rice’s list that was sure only to grow longer and longer until, at last, he would just tell her to stay away from Brek.

“I’m sure. Right up to the point that he takes the clothes off your back and sells them to a person who steals your identity.” Rice finished his coffee and stood up to get more. “Brek. I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere before. What’s he sell?”

“Art. Romulan mostly.”

“Brek,” Rice repeated while waiting for his coffee. “Huh. I’ll have to look him up. I swear that’s a name I know.”

He came back over to the table and patted the silver case he’d shoved over. It was large, two feet tall, another three wide, and 10 inches deep. “So, should we talk about what’s in this?”

Moon looked at it curiously. With everything going on last night she hadn’t realized that Q’or had left it behind. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about it. What is that on the top?” She leaned over and brushed a black bar that was inset in the handle.

The case began to hum pleasantly, before it emitted a rapid explosion of pops, followed by a violent series of clicks (by which time, Moon and Rice had abandoned their seats and fled halfway across the room). Finally, there was a sound of suction releasing, like that of a boot being pulled from deep mud, and the case lid gently popped open.

“Do you think its safe?” Moon asked.

Rice shook his head. “You said it was pretty awkward with that captain on the ship. Did you dishonor his father or mother or maybe a deity?”

“I don’t know. He was Rigelian.”

“Rigelian or Rigellian?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“One’s a warrior turtle wears armor and has strange ideas about honor. The other isn’t.”

“Oh. Well, he wasn’t a turtle. So, are you going to open it?”

“It’s your case.”

“You’re my fiancé. So, you know, what’s mine is yours. Plus, you’re the strapping Starfleet officer. Isn’t ‘danger’ your middle name now?”

Rice snorted. “‘Death by suitcase’ wasn’t what I had in mind this morning. Get on over there and – ow! Okay, okay!” Rice started forward, rubbing the spot on his butt where Moon had painfully pinched him.

Both hands braced on either side of the lid, Rice pushed it up slightly, bending over to peek inside. The interior looked to be mostly a foam block and he stuck a finger in to confirm. Slowly, he pushed the lid a little higher until he could catch sight of the edge of what looked like a large vial made of thick milky white glass. Holding his breath, he shoved the case open completely.

Inside were three things: a glass vial about six inches tall and two wide, a PADD, and a certificate emblazoned with the seal of the Bank of Bolius, all nestled into crevices cut to their shape in thick black foam. He picked up the certificate first and began reading, “The Bank of Bolius has certified the authenticity and legality of this liquid latinum. Any and all transfers are legally required to be registered with the Bank of Bolius. Signed, Tumo Mott, Senior Currency Officer, Bank of Bolius, Risa Branch, stardate…Holy shit.”

Moon had joined him at the table and picked up the vial shaking it. It appeared to have at least a quarter cup suspended inside, although the opaque glass made it difficult to tell. “Is it dangerous?”

“What? No, it’s valuable in most of the galaxy.”

“Oh. What is it again?”

“Latinum. It’s a form of currency. You exchange it for goods or services.” He picked up the PADD.

It immediately came to life. Madeline de la Croix’s face filled the screen. The old lady smiled warmly. “Moon, I am so proud of you. I will miss seeing and wearing your costumes on the stage, but I do believe you’ve made a good decision. Henri always loved to gamble when we visited Risa and he was quite good. We never could spend all of it and he just kept winning more and more. Our days on Risa are spent napping in the shade now. When I discovered this buried in Henri’s sock drawer, I thought maybe you could make use of it. Take it as a small token of our friendship and please let us know how you’re getting along.” The screen went blank.

"Awww," Moon intoned. She wished Madeline were here in person so she could give her a real hug. In those last days, the nonagenarian actress had become one of the most important people in Moon’s life.

She shook the vial again. “I remember Brek saying something about latinum, but I’m really struggling to understand. Why wouldn’t the people just give you the service or thing? They’re doing what they love to do. Why wouldn’t they want to give it away to people who will really appreciate it? Am I crazy?”

“Hey, I agree with you, but much of the rest of the Galaxy doesn’t operate that way.”

“But we’re still in the Federation.”

“Yes, but because Obsidian Command is…um. How to explain this? Along with being a defensive and diplomatic outpost, quite a bit of non-Federation trade comes through the station and many other stations along our borders. Long story short, currency is a thing here.”

The history of currency-based economics had been an elective in high school, Moon recalled, but she and skipped the course. Shakespeare, of course, had much to say on money as did many other famed playwrights from productions she’d worked on. If she was being honest, however, other than the warnings that money made you miserable, she couldn’t remember much about how it actually worked. She asked Rice to explain.

Rice’s description was less explanation than crash course in the history of currency on Earth. He began by discussing the barter system Humans once used and then described when money first appeared in the cradle of the civilization, some 5,500 years ago. The shekel evolved into gold and silver coins which evolved into paper money with people’s faces printed on it (in the midst of this, he did throw in a charming anecdote about Yapese stone money), and then it evolved into nothing at all. Just data on a screen. He quickly summed up the histories of currency on a couple of other Federation members’ planets to illustrate that the evolution was similar. In all cases money worked in similar ways.

“So,” Moon said around a mouthful of eggs she’d replicated while he was lecturing. “I want something. And I give this little vial of liquid to whoever owns that thing I want. Then they give it to me?”

He took a sip of his fourth cup of coffee. “Well, no. This is…I’m not up on the exchange, but I think you could run around yelling, ‘I’m rich, bitch,’ and not be totally inaccurate.”

“This little thing can buy what, a few things then?”

“I think this little vial can buy a lot of things or maybe one big thing.”

“Like what?”

Rice shrugged. “What do you want? How about a new starship? Not an old one, a new one.”

“Are older starships worth less than new ones?”

“I believe so.”

“Why?”

“Newer tech.”

“Huh,” Moon sat down at the table and pulled the little vial out of the case and shook it. It never occurred to her that there was a whole different economic system along the Federation border. How bizarre.

“You don’t get a…what are those called?” She thought back to high school history, “...a salary!”

“No. Well, sorta. Starfleet gives an annual allotment of Federation credits to personnel. As far as I know, it’s the same amount for everybody, admirals down to crewmen. It was the same with the Department of the Exterior when I served on Cardassia and on Vvanti. I rarely spent anything though. Mostly gave it all back at the end of my assignments.”

“Huh,” Moon repeated. “How do I pay people in liquid?”

“Take an eyedropper,” Rice joked. A chime sounded from the computer. He sucked down his remaining coffee. “I have to finish getting ready.”
“What do I do? Do I have to stay here all day? I had to be escorted up here by that guy in yellow with the phaser.”

Rice felt like an idiot, he’d completely forgotten. “Right. Can you get ready, while I finish up?” Moon gave him a flat look. “Yeah, stupid idea. So, take your time getting ready. Hey, maybe I’ll call in sick. You want to get married today?”

Moon cackled gleefully. “Who are you and what have you done with Rice? No. Not today.”

“Might make some paperwork easier. I’ve got to figure out how to declare you my fiancé.”

“How romantic,” she said rolling her eyes.

“Okay. Then I’ll wait,” Rice said lowering himself back into his chair. “I’ll take you down to the Promenade and pick up after my shift.”

“You can be late?”

“I could probably take a week-long pleasure cruise and no one would miss me,” he said. She looked askance at him. “I guess we haven’t had much time to discuss my new job. We’ll get to that, I promise. But,I do need to get to the office eventually…”

Moon nodded and stood up. “Okay. Got it. I’ll go get dressed. Maybe you could help me?”

“Why would you need hel…?” Rice watched Moon saunter away, a playful smirk dancing across her lips. He checked the time. He was going to be very late. “You’re still technically my guest. It would be rude of me not to help.”