The Prestige Collection Auction pt2
Posted on 19 Mar 2025 @ 6:52pm by Lieutenant Commander Torvyn Rue & Sylvie Hardt - Surrat Gallery & Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
2163 words - 4.3 OF Standard Post Measure
Stepping into the Prestige Collection Auction in the later half, Sylvie Hardt drew momentary attention. She noticed a few frowns before they quickly melted into warmer cordial smiles. She could guess why she would cause a few downturned mouths at such a venue. At this small (if 'Prestigious') auction, she was identifiable as being monied enough to out bid anyone without much of a contest. Only mildly interested in the catalogue she had received ahead of time, Sylvie opted to take a polite turn around the room, carefully examining the offerings in what might have been misunderstood as a slow, predatory looking movement.
She noticed a shuttle for sale. The vehicle itself wasn't on display, of course, but a holographic set of scans and images described its features and inspected value in detail. She had her own small yacht moored at the station, The Gneorev Hekant, roughly translating to The Red Hare in Federation Standard-- although many species in the Federation couldn't see the color gneorev, and red was simply the closest experience. This was to say nothing of the fact that the Cardassian hekant wasn't exactly a hare either, but that was all... splitting hairs. Sylvie smirked at her own trailing thoughts. She did appreciate the cleverness of puns in any language.
Sylvie meandered around to her actual interest at the event, even though she had no need of bidding on it. She had this particular service already, in fact: Saeloun Sijag, read the holographic title.
After a few moments pause, Sylvie was impressed at the animated display that Moon-Young Chung had assembled for the auction, proposing for the silent bidders a year of wardrobe consultation, alterations, and custom clothier services. The holographic portfolio featured a wide array of species, cultures, and body types and yet was well curated so as to blend seamlessly from one set of sketches to the next. Sylvie found it encouraging that her investment in the ambitious young seamstress was not wasted. And it was a nice choice of venue for this offering. While the Auction would directly win her only one customer, the display would grab plenty of attention and promote the idea of a bespoke luxury personal wardrobe where one would otherwise default to allowing the computer to make some replicator suggestions.
After a while of absorbing Moon's portfolio display, Sylvie stepped back, considering friends who might also benefit from the service, and considering bidding for their sake. On the one hand she could treat them to it, but on the other, she was an investor contemplating funding her own investment further. It didn't make a whole lot of sense to busy the singular proprietor entirely with her own commissions. She must allow Moon to come upon her clientele naturally and grow her business at the proper rate for such a new endeavor, else wise it was possible to smother such a nascent thing.
A tallish fellow stepped up beside her, watching the portfolio images flicker and slide between hologram visual turnarounds. "Saeloun Sijag..." He read carefully to himself, a note of curiosity. Sylvie noted the peaks of Vulcanoid ears, but they were under curly hair and his eyes had the unmistakable inky darkness of the Betazoid nature. It was his casual pleasant smile that gave him away as having not likely been raised a traditional Vulcan, whatever his parentage.
"It means New Beginnings." She offered. "In... an earth tongue." Sylvie honestly did not know which.
"You're familiar with this service? Is it good?"
"The very best in this sector. I shouldn't expect to find another for many Lightyears. If one were lucky."
"I've used Bernard, Fulcrum, and Gilroy's services, for suits and uniform alterations."
"Hmmm," she intoned only, clearly withholding an opinion.
"I have seen you around the station." He hesitated before he continued. "I've heard you are Heiress of the Surrat Fortune. Sylvie Hardt?"
"You have me at a disadvantage, Mister..."
"Rue, Torvyn Rue. I'm a Science Officer. I was posted to the planet until recently. I am hoping to get back to Loki III, but for now I am temporarily leading the Science department here on Obsidian Command."
"You miss the Obsidianite Desert?"
"I have a certain fondness for it. I suppose it grew on me after a few years. The people, more than the climate. But they come all as one. It's become a home to me."
Sylvie didn't respond. The word 'home' always made her feel disassociated. All the money in all the worlds couldn't buy back what she really wanted...
With a polite dip of his head, Mister Rue moved away. He considered for some time a Vulcan Lytherette, walking around it in the suspended anti grav display and evaluating it closely, before marking down his offer for it on the bidding padd beside the item. Sylvie found herself thinking that he had good taste. It was a very lovely and dignified instrument. And while he didn't possess the dispassionate disposition of his likely Vulcanoid heritage, it made her wonder if the science officer had at least some training in the Vulcan musical arts.
As he walked away from it, Sylvie refocused her eyes, and spied across the room two Ferengi, trading a padd back and forth and speaking in hushed tones. One she recognized, although she waited to be likewise noticed by him, as he seemed to be transacting.
As Brek finalised his business deal with Pog, the plot unfolded quickly but it had nothing to do with Cmdr Rue. Ms Hardt was there, as magnificent as ever, and his confidence wavered. Why oh why had one of the wealthiest figures on the station decided to pay a visit to this auction? Didn’t she possess enough valuables, gems and riches already?
“New competition has arrived, my dear Pog,” Brek whispered. “Stealth, cunning and immense wealth personified. You have, no doubt, heard of Ms Hardt, from Surrat Gallery?”
"The Heiress?" He'd have been stupid indeed if he hadn't gotten a list of the most valuable persons by personal net worth living on the station. "I've heard she's a hard sell. Lost the rights to an entire star system, thanks to good old compulsory buy out enforced by the Feds! Now she just sits and broods and doesn't properly invest. All of that money, just tied up in nostalgia!"
“No matter,” Brek said with a resolute nod. “We can’t afford to leave a poor impression. Let’s introduce ourselves pronto.” He motioned for Pog to follow him and strode over to greet the wealthy woman.
“Ms Hardt! What a delightful surprise to see you here,” he grinned from ear to ear. “Let me introduce you to my new...” He gave Pog a casual glance, thinking, on the spur of the moment, that it might not be a bad idea to send him, at some point, to Moon’s shop. ...” my new associate, of sorts.”
Reserving her initial opinion, Sylvie's lips pursed in thought. "An associate? Of my associate..." A glimmer of amusement danced over her violet eyes. "I'm not sure what that makes us."
"Associates in the second degree! To be sure, we can be associates in the first! I am Pog, proprietor of Pog's Emporium, the largest supply of goods both common and esoteric you'll find anywhere in the system! If you can't find it, you come to Pog." His mouth still hanging open, he breathed heavily for a beat and as the Cardassian Heiress didn't immediately reply he added, "That's me."
"Indeed." Disinterest painted her features. She turned back to Brek, more brightly. "Have you observed Moon's offering? Her presentation is very tasteful. Did you suggest this venue to her?"
“I wish I had, it’s a brilliant marketing strategy,” Brek said, still grinning. “Even in trade, ‘prove it, don’t just say it’ usually leads to success.” He glanced at Pog, who on his side, had promoted his shop with no flair, or subtlety, just outright boasting. “Her offer is attracting some interesting bids, from what I have seen.” And then he changed tack, because too often, small talk was just noise. “Tell me, Ms Hardt, are you on the hunt for something special, or simply to check out the scene?”
"I'm attending out of curiosity. Mostly I wished to see the display for Saeloun Sijag. She must be actively working impressive hours. I understand she's been retained to outfit the wedding for Major Wallace and Chief Xeri. I admit, I was hoping she might have teased the designs in her portfolio, but it seems she is saving the reveal for the bride."
“Curiosity is good, and so are trade secrets,” Brek said, pleased to keep the conversation away from those items he wanted to win. “If the design of this wedding gown were revealed even slightly before Ms. Xeri wore it, it could diminish its worth. Anticipation enhances value.”
Right then, he noticed a human, in gold uniform, placing a bid on ‘his’ shuttlecraft, and for a second there, he gasped. He stood still, though, as rushing to check the new bid would not only betray his interest, it would also be plainly crude.
“Speaking of value, Pog,” he resumed. “Perhaps you should pay a visit to “New Beginnings”? It looks like your wardrobe could do with an upgrade. It took me time to grasp the concept, but making a strong first impression can work wonders for business.”
Pog snorted, derisively. "This is a genuine replica third dynasty Grel senior vintage collection suit! And I got it on deep discount! Fools waste money on pretentious luxury items." He caught himself, looking between Brek and the tall, nicely dressed, latinum loaded Cardassian and licked his teeth, tasting his mistake. One should never insult the customer. Brek had set him up to react! Yes, it was all Brek's fault, the blame resounded in all four of Pog's brain's lobes.
In Brek’s book, ‘genuine replica’ was a euphemism for a counterfeit product, but he chose not to aggravate Pog. “I'll concede, there is a certain charm in anything obtained at a significant discount. What truly matters is what image we wish to project.” With that, he shifted his attention back to Ms. Hardt. “You were speaking of Ms Xeri’s wedding. Have you already received an...” His voice wavered slightly. “...invitation?” He was, to this day, invitation-free, and it suddenly became a concern.
"Mm, no. I'm afraid I have not. I am neither a close friend nor relative. I haven't any ties to the happy couple. Only another curious onlooker to their story and the promised couture scene. If only one could purchase an invitation."
Brek clasped his hands together. In all likelihood, no invitation had been sent yet. As for Ms Hardt’s beautiful words, they had sparked a dozen clever schemes in his mind - where he monetized this wedding by selling invitations. He would have to keep the whole operation discreet, obviously. Neither the bride, nor the groom, should ever suspect his... initiatives.
“It could certainly be arranged,” he said smoothly. “As a member of Ms. Xeri’s business circle, a word from me could go a long way - especially if it is substantiated with a generous donation.”
"I suppose..." With some appreciation for his subtle business acumen, Sylvie's lips formed a tight smile. "Perhaps if I were to become a patron of Ms. Xeri's work, there might be a chance of being extended an invitation. I imagine an exquisite gift may also ingratiate myself."
Oblivious to the subtextual transaction bordering on bribery playing out before him, Pog was switching back and forth on his feet, anxious as to this distraction from his actual contractual interests. "Yes yes, parties and dresses." He then hissed close to Brek's face. "What about our deal?"
Brek, steadfast and composed, kept his gaze firmly fixed on the wealthy heiress. “Ms Hardt, have you ever heard of the virtue of impatience? No? Neither have I,” he added before she could say a word. He then looked at Pog. “Our deal looks absolutely rock solid. But sure, since you are in a bit of a rush, I’ll have the item that interests us both evaluated. Tracing the certifications will only take a couple of hours.”
Pog bared his teeth in that gesture that humans supposed to be a smile, but between Ferengi served as warning. "I look forward to your communication, Brek. Ms. Hardt." With that, Pog excused himself, counting and recounting his future profits in his head...
“Well, I suppose it’s time for me to get some work done and prove my worth. Ms Hardt,” Brek added with a polite bow, "it's always a pleasure speaking with you."
"And you, Mr. Brek."
Those words said, he too took his leave. Moments later, PaDD in hand, he made a series of inquiries into the Romulan stones listed in the auction, eager to uncover their significance, and potential value.
