Alana - "Recovering the Past"

[Stefanie Smith]

The shop was dark, even at midday, crowded with tables and shelves to the ceiling full of dusty books, antiques, and vaguely mysterious odds and ends, which, despite the shifty-eyed clerk and back-alley entrance, did still manage to attract the occasional honest customer.  On Alana's first visit there, over five years ago, she'd been mistaken for such, with her slight frame and long hair.  But not anymore.  Alana had carved out a name for herself among the underbellies of various societies, and it was rare these days that anyone treated her like the wahini she appeared to be.

Today she bypassed the clerk completely, without so much as a glance in his direction, and likewise he ignored her as she pushed aside a tapestry and disappeared.  Marek, a few steps behind, reached out to do the same, but this time the clerk intervened with a thick hand to Marek's chest.  Not much to keep him from passing, but whatever hole in the wall Alana had ducked through must have closed up behind her in the darkness, for Marek now found himself staring at a solid, wood-paneled wall.  

The clerk grunted.

"I'm with her," Marek asserted, unwillingly looking at the man's face.

"Let him go," Alana's head poked through the wall and Marek realized with a tinge of embarrassment that it was simply a holographic projection.  

The clerk grunted again, slowly removing his hand, and Marek stepped through the wall and hurried after his companion, who was already halfway down a dank corridor.  "In all my centuries..." he mumbled resentfully.

After a few twists and turns, the pair strode into a large, fairly warmly decorated room (for an underground lair), with several couches and tables scattered around, and one large, foreboding desk sitting squarely at the far end.

"Welcome, my friend, it has been too long!" a jovial Yridian emerged from behind the desk and moved toward the nearest grouping of couches and chairs, gesturing for them to have a seat.  "Buying or selling today?" he eyed Marek appraisingly.

Marek moved to respond to the wrinkled Yridian, and not kindly, but Alana put up a hand, "We are buying.  Ashrin, this is my partner, Marek," she let the two men exchange greetings, or in this case, muted scowls, as she took a seat.  

"I just received a shipment of some lovely Denobulan vases--"

"We're not here to browse, please.  I have it on good authority that you recently acquired an artifact from Landris II."

"Well, now, I'm not sure who would have thought I'd be able to find such an item!"  He turned to Marek, as if to fill him in on some insider information, "I've never been much for archaeology."  With a magnanimous flailing of his arms, he concluded, "But I will certainly keep my eyes open for anything matching that description."

"The space-scum who stole it from me seemed very certain he'd sold it to you."

"Stole?  From you?  I don't believe that there is anyone in this galaxy capable of stealing from you!"

She only raised an eyebrow at his transparent attempt to change the subject.

"You know, come to think of it, I did buy something off a slimy Andorian several weeks ago, and I just haven't had a chance to determine what it is exactly.  Why," as if the idea just dawned on him, "It could be your artifact!  But, my dear, sweet Alana, I had absolutely no idea whatsoever that this particular item had been stolen.  Had I known--"

She raised a hand, silencing him, "I am, of course, willing to reimburse you for your trouble."

And that was all Ashrin needed to hear.  He smiled and thumbed at a console concealed in his chair, "Imdrin, would you please bring container 245 to the viewing room."

After a moment's uncomfortable silence, Ashrin half-heartedly offered them some beverages which they declined.  When a set of doors accross the room from them openned, Alana stood and walked determinedly toward the cargo container.  The clerk from the storefront dutifully slid off the lid to reveal a stone figure that Alana had dug out of the ground with her own hands those many years ago.  She reached out to touch it once more, momentarily lost in thought.

"That's it, then?" Marek asked quietly, breaking her trance.

"Yes," she cleared her throat, and then louder, turning to Ashrin, "Thank you.  I trust this meets your needs," she tossed a small bag to him.

She removed the figure from Ashrin's container, slipping it into her own satchel and followed Marek back the way they had come.  As the Yridian discovered she had given him twice what he had paid the Andorian, he called out to their backs, "Always a pleasure!  Come again soon!"