The Prestige Collection Auction pt3
Posted on 21 Apr 2025 @ 6:34pm by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery & Commander Calliope Zahn & Lieutenant Commander Torvyn Rue
Edited on on 27 Apr 2025 @ 6:05am
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
Location: OC - The Prestige Collection Auction
2129 words - 4.3 OF Standard Post Measure
They were now a few minutes away from the big reveal. Who had won what and at what cost? There would be joy, disappointment, maybe even anger. Although looking at how collected the crowd was, talking softly and amiably to each other, Brek realized that the high energy was only happening in his mind. Had the audience consisted solely of Ferengi, they would probably be at each other’s throat by now, trying to undercut each other with higher bids, outrageous menaces and impossible promises. The whole event was too genteel, too nice. Confusion and chaos could be your allies too...
Still, overall things were going well. The Romulan stones - verified through independent authentication, had an estimated value of 35 bars of latinum. The last bid - his - stood at 11 bars. Not a huge triumph, but a decent victory, all the same.
Moon’s auction was thriving nicely, so much so that he had only placed three modest bids on it, as a gesture, to give it a little boost.
On the other hand, the small shuttle he wanted to buy now left him doubtful. Few bids had been placed and although he was currently the winner, he was concerned that the shuttle would need so much repair that it might turn into a literal latinum sinkhole.
The host took the stage, a male Andorian dressed in a dark blue uniform accented with gold epaulettes. He looked the part: elegant and experienced. Although his name badge:’Kal’Rin’, betrayed the fact he was just a regular employee. Behind him, a silent countdown ticked away in glowing orange digits: only twenty seconds remained until the auction concluded.
"Esteemed bidders and guests,” Kal’Rin finally announced, his voice resonating throughout the room, “our silent auction has come to a close and the results are in. The Prestige Collection Auction thanks you all for your enthusiastic and judicious participation. It is now time to honor the winners whose contributions have secured these remarkable treasures!”
He started with the luxury items: custom jewelry, rare fine wines and spirit, Moon’s exclusive design offer which went to participants with deep pockets.
As for the blasted shuttle, it was now his. Darn it.
On a brighter note, among the mid-range acquisitions, the Romulan rocks collection went to Pog, who like every other winner, received a fair share of applause.
Pog had hurried up to claim his prize, grabbing for the container greedily and making away with it in hand, in spite of the host's insistence that it could be delivered to him.
"It's mine, I've won it, give it to me," Pog declared. "I'll deliver it my self, to myself! I'll have none of this delivery business and hidden fees and surcharges!" There had been no fees or surcharges with the included delivery of the Auction winnings, but Pog was the type of person who didn't advertise his additional fees unless asked directly, so he assumed likewise of everyone else's business. Meanwhile, Save the delivery fee was a personal motto he applied whenever possible.
“Well, my dear Pog, our success is complete,” Brek said with a slight smile. “The rocks are yours, and now you owe me, at best, thirty minutes of your time. It’s as if you’ve won the lottery, without ever buying a ticket!”
Having made his acquisition, Pog now seemed to sneer at Brek in spite of the assistance. "Just tell me what time the supply drop is to be," Pog said, quickly, annoyed at being stopped on his way to steal off with his winnings and get them repackaged for his buyer.
“Indeed, idle hands build no empires.” Brek said. Convinced that his plan was a clever one, he barely managed to hide his amusement. “I nonetheless suggest one boring precaution: take a few minutes to dispose of your new acquisition in a safe place. Then meet me in ten minutes at my gallery. I’ll have the parcel ready for you.”
Leaving Pog behind, Brek set off to attend to the little shuttle he had recently won. He also needed to schedule a complete checkup for it. Yet, despite the expense, he was in a good mind to rename that shuttle ‘The Golden Glow’.
Eight minutes later, Brek was behind the reception desk. The gallery was quiet at the moment, with just one potential customer asking incessant questions, in soft tones, to his holo-assistant. What was the artist’s background? How had the price been determined? Were there any signs of wear, damage, or restoration? It was properly maddening and it highlighted the necessity of delegating certain tasks. Just as he was doing with Pog.
Before him lay a long black tube, its surface marked with an address hastily scrawled by Brek himself. It contained a rare painting, which he had found by pure chance a week ago. Obviously it needed a new owner, and Brek knew who that was. Only he didn’t want to spend any of his time making this specific sale...
When Pog arrived, the art dealer sprang to life and pretended to be extremely busy.
“Ah Pog! Here you are, and here is the package,” he said, handing it over. “It contains a painting, as you can surmise. A rare, delicate landscape, which is going to Senator Thitur, an old and perfectly harmless Romulan. Time to hit the road, my friend!”
Pog picked up the tube and turned it around in his hands. Anything described as 'rare' drew his attention because anything that could be conceivably called rare was naturally in demand with someone, somewhere. He looked over the writing, then checked for a seal on the end of the tube. It was fixed shut. Which meant no peering inside, but neither could he be falsely accused of having done so. "Normally I'd have the shop apprentice do my delivering... but I can't afford him bungling this up." Pog grumbled. "Just this one silly errand. I deliver this and the contract is fulfilled."
Brek considered the merchant. Could he really be trusted? “It is no trivial matter,” he countered. “It is very very important. So be careful and make sure you don’t damage my precious painting. Otherwise I’ll have to think of payback plots...”
Chuffing at the idea that Brek were in anyway to be considered dangerous, Pog tucked the tube under his arm-- it was almost as long as he was tall-- and, chin in the air as he tried to pretend this task wasn't demeaning to him at all, he left Brek's gallery in search of this location on the station, pausing only momentarily to gulp under the shadow of Glutik before scurrying on.
The senator, who had retired as much as he had been retired by his colleagues, was home alone. His dear wife, the fading light of his life, had once again gone to visit her sister. This alliance between women, he pondered - this bond of sisterhood - was one of the greatest menaces to mankind. Women doing whatever they pleased, whenever they pleased, even when they had been married for a whole half of a century!
He sighed. What he wanted was a distraction. Anything at all to disrupt his perfectly quiet day.
“Yes,’” he muttered, pushing the hefty history book he had been reading - and rewriting at the same time, through copious notes scribbled on the pages’ margins. “I’d trade one of my kidneys for some light entertainment.”
And then he got a fright because someone actually called at his door and obviously under no circumstance whatsoever would he donate any of his organs. The fanciful ideas that drifted in one’s mind at times!
Seconds later, when he opened the door, he was graced with the presence of a Ferengi, looking maybe a little smug. This improbable individual was holding a long parcel.
“And who might you be?” Thitur demanded. His voice, low and resonant, betrayed the fact he had not spoken to another sentient being for several days. Three, to be precise.
"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." He spun off his spiel as a reflex. "I assume you are ..." He turned the giant tube to read the name printed in the address, having already forgotten it. Brek's writing was abysmal."Senator Thit...ur?"
“I am much more than a Senator, but I doubt you have much interest in Romulan history.” Thitur quipped, as he was pretty sure that Pog had no interest in long gone events.
"You ordered a Landscape painting and I've delivered it." He shoved the tube over to the Senator, along with a signature device. He wasn't leaving this deal up to chance for Brek to claim he hadn't made the delivery. "Sign here to confirm."
The Senator couldn’t, in truth, remember ordering a new painting from Brek. It would have been wise then, to reject the delivery. But what if the parcel contained something much more important than a painting? What if the art dealer had sent him secret documents? Why would he do that? Well, did anyone actually know what went through the mind of a Ferengi?
“Certainly, certainly.” With the cylindrical package tucked securely under his left arm, the senator took the device. His signature took almost a minute to complete. It was a complicated affair, with two assertive and majestic Ts. A work of art in itself, he had been told multiple times. Once he had finished, he held onto the device. “So, you run this bric-a-brac shop on the Promenade. I’m familiar with it, naturally. You sell, I presume, unique jewellery... for ladies with refined taste and good judgment?”
Pog eyed the device still in the Senator's hands. He was this close to closing his deal with Brek, but there was the possibility the Senator, in spite of no longer being a senator (his whole planet having gone kablooie some time ago) could be positively soaked in the fibers with latinum that needed spending and, besides, he wasn't about to wrestle him for his painfully ornate signature. It was best to let the Romulan take his time. Pog licked his lips and then showed his teeth in what he imagined was his most disarming smile.
"I happen to possess at my Very Fine Emporium several display cases full of eclectic and diverse ornaments for genders and species of any kind. They are the very definition of unique as no two are alike. Each one has a history." All of them being bought from estate sales or at auction used or pawned to him, of course. The finest appraised pieces came at a premium... But that was fine-line contract business for serious buyers to take into account; Pog was standing in a hallway at present and not predisposed to make his fullest of full disclosures.
Thitur nearly blinked. He wasn’t too impressed with the claim that this Very Fine Emporium sold such a diversity of ornaments. He wanted to see Romulan craftsmanship at its finest, and nothing else. On the other hand, having found someone to talk to, he wasn’t going to close his door so easily.
“This sounds very promising, interesting and rewarding, Mr Pog.” The old senator said, as he placed the long parcel inside his quarter, against the wall. He would, he decided, discover the price tag for this item later; much later, with a glass of Romulan ale, aged to perfection. “Let’s go to this Fine Emporium. I love a good origin story, and I’m curious to hear how much you know about the history of your goods.” He added with a little smirk.
What a fool this Brek was! He had sent him on this errand and given Pog a likely customer, splitting his own potential profits! Pog motioned positively, sweeping his arms in the direction of the corridor behind him, "Allow me to show you the way!"
As Senator Thirtur moved out ahead of him on the way to the nearest lifts, Pog rubbed his hands together, looking the tall man up and down and trying to guess just how much he might be worth. He hastened after the man as they climbed into a lift together, the Romulan looking down and the Ferengi back up at him as the doors were closing.
"You wouldn't happen to also be interested in old Romulan geology, would you? Minerals and the like? Because I happen to be in possession of a splendid collection you may be quite interested in..."
