More Than Meets the Eye
Posted on 04 May 2024 @ 12:40pm by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Edited on on 14 May 2024 @ 1:30am
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
Location: Environmental Ring
Timeline: MD 4 - Day 24 Evening
1512 words - 3 OF Standard Post Measure
“This is my bench.” T’Sheng uttered the phrase with authority. She was both puzzled and annoyed that someone had had the audacity to sit at the other end of ‘her’ bench. An elegant weathered wooden seat with a metal backrest. All civilised people had a notion of private space and respected it without giving it a thought. Other species, however, seemed to be making efforts in the other direction. They liked to be troublesome and intrusive. It was as if, to them, life was worth nothing unless they made themselves a nuisance. Ferengi fit perfectly in this category, and the specimen now sat some 60 inches from her - none other than the pesky and ill-disposed individual who ran an art gallery on this station - had pushed the boundaries of inconvenience further by not responding to her statement.
“I said. Mr Brek. This is my bench.”
The Ferengi, who until then had been entirely focused on his PaDD, glanced at her and immediately returned his attention to his screen. There had been a semblance of recognition in his eyes, though, and he spoke up: “Can you prove that you own this bench, Cmdr?”
T'Sheng bristled. "Proof? I was here first, and a modicum of respect for personal space would not go amiss."
The art dealer grunted, his fingers continuing their frantic dance across the PaDD screen. "I just need ten minutes to finalize a negotiation, Commander," he mumbled without looking up. "Don't fret. I'll be a ghost as soon as I'm done."
“I am not fretting,” She added, irritated by his nonchalance. “I never fret. Your ten minutes are nonetheless granted. She was silent for two minutes and ten seconds and then added: “You will have to forgive my curiosity, though. Why are you dressed in such a manner? Is there a masquerade ball somewhere on this station tonight?”
“What do you mean?” He looked at her, puzzled and clueless, those two trademarks of his species.
She gestured towards him with a raised eyebrow, silently highlighting the absurdity of his appearance. The diminutive Ferengi was sporting a white shirt emblazoned with the bold declaration: "I'm not lazy, I'm on energy-saving mode." This questionable proclamation was completed by a pair of suspiciously small blue and white shorts and pristine white shoes that gleamed like they'd never seen a single step.
Brek shrugged. “I’m exercising my right to show my knees. There is no law on this station that forbids me to do so.”
“I believe that in this outfit, you are supposed to exercise more than your rights, Mr Brek. You also ought to exercise your body. To run or jog, or practise yoga, Tai Chi or any other form of mind-body exercise that has your preference.”
The Ferengi shook his head, his PaDD screen a blur of activity. “Talk about being intrusive. I may be sitting on ‘your’ bench, Cmdr, at least I have the decency not to tell you what you ought to do depending on the way you are dressed. Besides, I’ll have you know that I set out to burn some serious calories by running around this park no less than three times. But I received a business call, a vital one, which means that I’ve had to postpone my plans.”
“People should never postpone their plans. When they do, indolence soon follows.”
The art dealer winced. “You are quite incredible, Cmdr. Here you are, sitting there like a glazed donut, doing nothing at all, and you call me lazy? Me, who’s been jungling with six difficult contracts all at once. For a diplomat, Cmdr, your sense of etiquette leaves to be desired.” He must be waiting for an answer to his numerous texted queries now, for he crossed his arms on his chest and he added: “To teach you a lesson, I might just sit here for the next hour.”
T'Sheng's eyes narrowed. "Presumption is unbecoming, Mr. Brek. You have nothing to teach me."
At this point, it would have been wise to leave this trivial conversation, but as illogical as it was, her recent foray to Planet Obsidian with the mysterious Oly and his associates, had piqued her curiosity about life beyond the sterile formalities of diplomatic offices.
"How can you possibly handle six contracts," she pressed, "when you have only received one business call?"
Brek blinked in surprise, as if questioning his own ears. "Commander T'Sheng, you, of all people, should know that everything is interconnected. The galaxy is a vast spiderweb. You disturb a single strand, and countless others vibrate in response, creating new opportunities or unforeseen problems. That one call, believe it or not, has spawned six potential deals." He stared at her. "Care to see how it's done?"
“Absolutely not!”
Her outburst was, regrettably, a touch too hasty. After all, the notion that a Ferengi could somehow taint her morals was, of course, absurd.
A heavy silence descended upon them as they gazed at the magnificent tree before them. Park lights bathed the leaves in a warm glow, casting shimmering shades of yellow and red that seemed to breathe new life into the ancient branches. This was no longer just a tree; it was a haven for wildlife, a source of wonder for strolling couples, and a potent symbol of the Fleet’s achievements. They had conquered the icy emptiness of space, creating countless havens like this very station, testaments to the resilience of sentient life.
But the concept of "safety," she mused, felt tenuous when considering threats like the Pyrryx. Not that she, personally, had much to fear. Her privileged position within the Fleet guaranteed a comfortable distance from danger. Still, the harsh reality remained. Survival of the fittest implied that only the most adaptable among them would endure.
“I’m curious, Mr Brek, how do you see this tree in front of us?”
He glanced at her, momentarily bewildered, before returning his gaze to the magnificent specimen. "With my eyes, Commander, as most do."
A hint of frustration flickered across her face. Why were Ferengi always logically flawed?
“What I meant was, does it resonate with you? Not literally, of course,” she promptly added, just in case the Ferengi had absolutely no poetic sensibility. “Does it evoke wonder in you, or do you perceive it solely as an object that can potentially yield more latinum?”
“Your talent for veiled barbs is second to none,” Brek added with another little sigh. “I can appreciate a beautiful tree. The leaves shimmer with hues reminiscent of latinum and fine red wine. But it doesn’t mean I’m dreaming of cutting it off so that I can profit from its wood by selling it to the black market. Or that I would want to send an army of artists to paint that tree over and over again. I’m quite happy to leave it alone and enjoy its peaceful sight.”
"Speaking of the black market," she ventured, a curious notion taking root in her mind. "How well-versed are you in its… intricacies?"
The Ferengi continued to look at the tree. "I’m utterly unfamiliar with it," he muttered. "Terrible lapse in judgement on my part. I’m completely clean and only run legitimate operations these days."
"But hypothetically," she pressed, "if an opportunity arose to earn a significant profit by locating a rare item, might you know how to..."
"I’m not interested in anything shady, Commander.” Brek interrupted her briskly. “It sounds like you're trying to get me mixed up in something unpleasant."
T’Sheng nearly smiled. "Well, Mr. Brek, it seems I've accomplished the unexpected: I rattled a Ferengi."
“You are, it has to be said, remarkably annoying.”
“I am also remarkably persistent. I am looking for a unique piece of jewellery, wrought with meticulous attention to detail."
“Tell me more...” Brek added, his voice flat, feigning a complete lack of interest.
"Something special," she explained. "A unique jewel for my daughter. You see, she has selected a new career, as an entomologist.”
"A Vulcan entomologist? That's an unusual combination," Brek remarked, his gaze still fixed on the tree. "Why resort to the black market for such a purpose? I possess a rather unique collection of insect-themed jewels, if that's what you seek."
“You do?”
Brek's voice betrayed a surge of sudden interest. “Precious gemstones in the shape of Coleoptera with iridescent elytra polished to gleam like diamonds. Lepidoptera with wings that look like stained glass. Even scorpiones with stingers fashioned into delicate pendants. I have been collecting those sorts of things since I was 10. I could be persuaded to part with a few, for the right price. Meet me at the gallery tomorrow at eight am sharp. We might strike a mutually beneficial bargain.”
“I shall.”
"Excellent!" Brek replied with a curt nod before rising to his feet. He then vanished into the park's shadows with surprising swiftness, leaving T’Sheng with the unsettling feeling that he had never truly been there at all. Yet, his presence had undeniably left its mark.
