MSNPC Tresh, "All Items Half Off" (tags Xon, Alal, Mendes)
Dueld taJoot
((If we weren’t trying to keep this teen-rated, this MSNPC’s inner dialogue would include a whole lot more explicit swearing. As it is, apologies for all the hash marks.))
(Outpost Eden, Commerce Tier Level 22, “The Shady Hal’harch”)
:When news of the Treaty of Tarod had rippled across the galaxy, all of the factions, open and secret, had begun to move. Tresh had taken his chance, made his connections, and begun three months of carefully feckless wandering toward Eden. He’d had to be cautious. He needed to avoid the enemies of his current employers, the enemies of his past employers, and his past employers themselves. He had to gather up a convincing stock of interesting trinkets, small enough to fit into the hold of his tiny ship, varied enough to fill a few shelves in the outpost they told him was under construction, and distracting enough to keep curious eyes away from his real cargo. And he still had to get there in time.:
:He’d only finished setting out all the shiny things two days ago. Yesterday was the first day he’d unlocked the door and lit up the graphic display outside-- a hal’harch blossom. Just a boring little white flower bud to most people, he hoped; maybe a sign to the very few who’d recognize it from Orion. Hal’harch trees looked pretty, with small green leaves and blossoms all summer long, but that’s not why he liked them. He liked them because, if you were desperate enough, you could take a little break under a hal’harch, even at sunset when the zitza were feasting on everyone else. A hal’harch in full bloom stank like nine tanneries and a keg of sour wine. The smell was enough to kill anything that weighed less than a stone. Plus, even after you got up and went back to work, nobody would bother you much.:
:Especially none of them.:
:He wasn’t sure if he’d ever meet another man who’d been saved by a hal’harch. But he wanted that man to have a chance to find him, if there were any out here.:
:But now even that one ragged little dream he'd allowed himself was in danger, thanks to this pushy @#$@#@#&$ Ferengi &%*$!:
:If Tresh hadn’t been careless, he’d never have unsealed the container in the first place. Even in the privacy of his store’s stockroom, even for a few minutes’ distraction from worry. He understood, now, why there had to be an embargo on real Tallonian crystals. They were beautiful. He didn’t have a clue how the colonies of tiny bacteria, laced like veins through the crystals, survived. Or how they gathered up enough energy now and then to flare into pinpoints of light. Or why they were so important to the Tallonians. How the &(*^*(& could Tresh know anything like that? He’d only barely gotten enough schooling to drive a harvester-- any other education he’d had to steal once he ran.:
:So Tresh only saw what everyone else saw: the crystals looked like some master jeweller had carved a nebula into solid chunks, set with tiny actual stars. And he only knew what everyone else knew: there were beings out there who would trade anything to get them.:
:If the Ferengi had waited out front, like anybody from an actual civilization, instead of a shethrag hive, Tresh would have had time to lock the crystals back up. He could have set their plain grey container on a shelf high enough that no bat-eared mutate could have laid eyes on it. As it was, he’d barely heard the little *&^T*&^T pussyfooting toward the open doorway in time to slam the lid back on. And then he’d spent 20 minutes herding the shethrag back toward the front door, while Whatshisname hemmed and hawed and poked and prodded and got his earwaxy paws all over Tresh’s stock.:
:Tresh towered over every Ferengi he’d ever had the bad luck to meet. Most of them weighed about three stone of beady-eyed greed. None of them had ever shown any grit. So he’d been totally blindsided when the (*&Y(*T shethrag KNOCKED ONE OF TRESH’S SHELF UNITS right into Tresh, toppling the contents onto the floor and smashing half of them, and then leapt like a ship’s rat over the wreckage toward Tresh’s stockroom. By the time Tresh had thrown himself after the (*&Y(*&Y, Yak or whatever his name was had just lifted the lid off the crystal’s case a couple of millimeters. His eyes had still almost fallen out of his head. Tresh had slammed the lid roughly back into place, yanked the case out of the (*&Y(*er’s mitts, and thrown that shethrag vomit by his skanky little neck all the way out the front door of Tresh’s shop.:
:The shethrag had charged back in, and now he was foaming at the mouth over Tresh’s nice new counter. Suddenly, the Ferengi lurched backwards and arched his spine, eyes wide and mouth gaping, as some old Vulcan? Romulan? in a worn jacket pulled the shethrag away by one ear. The Ferengi danced around like something had gotten into his pants and was chewing something else off. It was almost entertaining, until it drew a couple of Fleet puppies over. The old guy let go, and the shethrag tried to regain some face with a shove. The old guy didn’t even notice, looked like.:
Mendes: :Clearing his throat: What seems to be the problem?
Yunk: :pointing at Tresh: This… this… FLEA WORM won’t accept my latinum in a fair business deal! Clearly, he doesn’t know WHO I AM!
Xon: Forgive us. Should we know who you are?
:The Ferengi scowled.
Mendes/Alal: ?
Yunk: Of course you should know who I am! I am Zaglik Yunk, the first merchant granted a license for trade in the Eden region by the Ferengi Commerce Authority! I bring the Rules of Acquisition, to guide your crippled attempts to push your goods and services at each other. They sicken me! It’s like watching larvae drown in their own ooze! In six months you’ll be begging me to administer this whole tier!
:Tresh stood next to the remaining shelf unit near the front door of his shop, rounding his shoulders and trying to look harmless. If he was lucky, the Ferengi would work up a real good hate in all of them before they stopped him--:
Mendes: ?
:Tresh met the short Terran’s eyes as levelly as he could.:
Tresh: Tresh. This is my shop, The Shady Hal’harch. I was in the private room at the back, looking at some personal items that had gotten mixed up with my stock. This guy saw one of them. He insists that I sell it to him, even though I never put it out for sale. He wrecked a lot of my goods :nodding over his shoulder at the mess on the floor: trying to get past me and grab it--
Yunk: :shouting: TALLONIAN CRYSTALS! He has TALLONIAN CRYSTALS! Why would he have them if not for sale? They’re one of the rarest currencies in the galaxy! You could buy a moon with a fragment!
:!@#$OU@#$@! Why would the Ferengi expose the crystals to the Fleet dogs? He’d never get them now! Tresh clenched his jaw, and struggled to maintain his calm.:
Xon: ?
Tresh: I don’t know what he thinks he saw, but--
Yunk: :spitting, bouncing on his toes: I HEARD THEM! Hyooomans are deaf, but Tallonian crystals sing the sweetest song-- once you’ve heard a sound clip you never forget it! I heard them! I saw them!
Tresh: This is outrageous! He invaded my space, destroyed my inventory, and now he’s running his mouth off to make me hand over my personal property!
Alal: ?
:Shethrag vomit. Tresh struggled to think of a reason to object.:
Tresh: I need time to inventory the damages before anyone--
Mendes: ?
:HAGS’ BREATH! The old guy had a tricorder out! He was pointing it toward the front door! Tresh couldn’t be sure if the lid on the crystals’ case had fallen into place when he’d been throwing the shethrag out. The case was emissions-proof if the lid was on, but if it wasn't secure...:
:If it wasn’t, Tresh might never see Ro again.:
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MSNPC Tresh
Dealer in Rare Goods For The Home
The Shady Hal’harch
Outpost Eden