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And the winner is...

Posted on Sun Jul 7th, 2019 @ 6:26pm by Walter Jones & Jan Valentine & Langar Tarn & Bruce Air (PNPC)

Mission: Set 3: Session 1- Sold!
Location: Gallery Twelve One Three
Timeline: Current

The bidding hadn't started yet. The order of items was listed on a screen in the rear of the room. The ships, Walt's main focus were listed last. Several pieces of art, curios, parcels of ancient land, even stakes in several businesses and industries. All told there were 15 different groups before the Warden. Walt quickly scouted the room to see his competition.

Among the crowd gathered were business people, traders, and typical upper crust social lights. There was a Bolian who was surrounded by scantily clad men and women, all fawning over him. A militant looking Andorian in some sort of military uniform with a three others who were similarly dressed, a small contingent of Vulcan's from one of the lesser science academies, a smattering of human's and other species, and one what appeared to be by his estimation, five hundred pound Klingon, sitting in the front row, eating and drinking his fill. Occasionally he would bark at one of the Bolian's escorts and then laugh as they moved away.

"If I could please have your attentions please." A stately looking Cardassian, dressed in a black suit with coat tails had moved to the front of the room. "I will be your host for this event, and it will begin in approximately five minutes. Please make yourselves comfortable."

The Klingon burped.

The Vulcan's and The Andorian seemed out of place. The Andorian was probably after the Klingon Ship. "Hopefully this will keep the prices down a bit. Doesn't seem like the freighter crew type."

Langar trailed Delahkin Froodle and his female entourage into the main auction room. “We should have reserved seats, in the front row, of course!” Froodle crowed.

Lanager had checked their seat assignments beforehand and counted off the chairs in the front row. “Alpha Nine through fourteen, that would put us… Right next to the Klingon” He finished

Froodle stopped when he saw the large boisterous Klingon, his inane smile faltered for a moment. “I’m not sitting next to that!” He muttered.

“I can go and ask him to move if you’d like?” Langar offered. “He might get offended and want to duel with whoever sent me… Or maybe I can just tell him to keep the noise down? And to stop throwing things?” He was being especially helpful. “Although he’ll probably get offended over that too.” He gave Froodle an eager-to-please-look “What shall I tell him Boss Froodle Delahkin demands he move his fat Klingon ass?”

Froodle shot Lanagar a petulant glare. “No! No, no. We’ll er… we’ll go and sit on the side” He looked around and saw some vacant seats near the wall. “Over there!”

“Sure thing Boss!” Langar agreed and the group moved to the front row on the right side. Langar preferred this position, he could get his back to a wall and had a good view of the room, without having to stand up in the middle of the front row. He assumed a watchful position while Froodle and his ladies took their seats and Oooed and Aaahhhed over the auction catalogue.

Langar scanned the room, checking out potential threats. The Klingon was just having a good time and probably harmless unless provoked. The Bolian and his flunkies the same. The Vulcans were highly unlikely to be an issue.

Which left the Generalissimo El Presidente Supremo Andorian who was probably looking for an arms deal to support his next coup attempt Langar mused and likewise not here to cause trouble for a spoilt rich kid like Delahkin.

Having cleared the obvious groups in the room Lanagr now focused on the less obvious and therefore the more dangerous people, the ones sitting quietly and blending in with everyone else. After five minutes he had not identified any potential threats and relaxed a little.

He saw Jones again, towards the back, but he was too far away to acknowledge and he could not leave his charge. He wondered again what the Captain was doing here…

His thoughts were interrupted by the return of the Cardassian and he repressed a shudder. That was one species he detested.

“Good evening Everyone! Our auction is about to begin!”

Walt perked up. He assumed they'd have to get through some of the smaller items first before they got to the ships.

Morgan sat back and smiled. Sitting two seat behind the Klingon meant no one was watching him. They avoided looking in the Klingon's direction and, by association, his. Even Langar's eyes had just brushed past him.

"I bid you all welcome. We have many interesting items from around the quadrant tonight, I know we are in for a treat! Please have your bidders numbers handy and bid with confidence." The Auctioneer held his hands out in a welcoming gesture as the Bolian politely applauded.

"We will begin with Lot Three Twenty, various pieces of art from across the quadrant, descriptions can be found in your buyers guide." The Cardassian smiled. "I will commence bidding at Fifty bars of Latinum.

"Ooooh the Klingon expression of the nude is wonderful. Fifty bars." One of the paintings displayed was that of a Klingon in full buff, with a stuffed Targ in front of the sensitive areas. Allowt raised his paddle.

"No other bids?" The Cardassian grimaced as he waited for any other bids. Hearing none, he slammed the hammer on the podium.

"Sold to Mr. Allowt, Fifty Bars."

The Cardassian reached for the next description. "Lot Five Eight Three, Trinkets from Palatine Three, these trinkets were retrieved from an archeological dig site. According to the seller, the items are cursed and do require the blessing of a Shaman to clear the curse. Though, further footnote on the items seem to indicate that the Palatine people have been extinct for nearly Five Thousand Years. The trinkets are supposed to bring good luck and fortune to the holder, as well as a certain bravdo that is untranslatable. I will start the auction at Ten Bars of Latinum."

Jones raised his arm. "Ten Bars." He looked over at Jan. "What can I say? I need some bravado."

The other participants kept their hands down. The Cardassian, drumming his fingers on the podium almost nervously slammed the gavel down.

"Sold to the man from Mars for 10 bars."

The Cardassian smiled as the next object was brought up. "Three Veeenyl Records, from Earth."

The Cardassian was handed an black, circular disk and a piece of ancient machinery was placed on the table. "This lot is approximately three hundred years old and according to the seller, functional. " The Cardassian held up the black disk and placed it gently on the mechanical device. It began to emit a sound of scratches, hisses and pops.

"Ooh this my" the album skipped "around that track So it's not just gonna happen like that 'Cause I ain't no hollaback girl I ain't no hollaback girl.

"Turn that off!" The Klingon yelled. "I've listened to the screams of my enemies, burned alive, and have never heard anything as wretched as that."

The Cardassian quickly lifted the tone arm. "Do I have an opening bid of Ten Bars of Latinum?"

"Ooooooh how exquisitely decadent! I'll bid Fifteen Bars to put the delightful classical sound back on!"

The Cardassian put the needle back on

"This *skip* is bananas, b a n a n a s!"

"One hundred bars to turn it off!" The klingon raised his hand.

"Two Hundred." One of the Vulcan's raised his hand.

"Three Hundred!" The Bolian shouted.

The Cardassian looked around and slammed the gavel down.

"Sold! To the Bolian for Three Hundred Bars of Latinum." The auctioneer politely applauded.

"Next lot Four Nine Three, listed as Plasma Phase Disrupters, currently outlawed under twelve galactic treaties, manufacture date lists them pre ban allowing them to be sold. Three Gross Lots. Gross one; side arms, Gross Two; rifles, Gross Three; Tank Busters."

The Cardassian held one of the side arms up and flipped a switch. The firearm let out a squeal to indicate charged. One of the runners of the auction brought forth what appeared to be a cross between a lizard and a duck. It was caged and barely breathing.

"I have been assured that the weapons are currently in ready status, for all of your defense or revolutionary needs." With a fluid motion, the auctioneer aimed the pistol at the cage and fired. A blueish beam erupted from the muzzle and struck the creature; briefly causing it to writhe in pain and then disintegrate.

"I will start the bidding at One Thousand Bars of Latinum."

"One Thousand." The Andorian barely paying attention to the previous items finally perked up. His aides nodded.

"Eleven Hundred." The Klingon chimed in. "I can't let an Andorian walk away with such a beautiful item of destruction." He flung what appeared to be a leg bone of some creature that he had devoured onto the floor.

"Fifteen Hundred." The Andorian chimed back in.

"Eighteen Hundred." The Klingon who started to clean another bone laughed. "I don't even want the toys, a good knife will always be a superior weapon, I just want to see how much you want to spend!"

"Two Thousand for each lot." The Andorian Generalissmo rubbed his face. It was more than he wanted to pay.

"Sold to the Andorian" The Klingon laughed. "More of this thing that you call... Turkey!" The Klingon pointed to the empty plate and the pile of bones on the floor.

"There are two more lots before intermission, lot Three Zero One, Three Zero One." The Cardassian looked through his notes. "B'rel Class Klingon Bird-of-Prey IKS. Qu’tl!" The Cardassian attempted the name a few times.

"It is QU'TL!" The Klingon yelled. "Your pronunciation brings grave dishonor to the warriors who fought in that!"

Morgan's eyes narrowed. the pronunciation was Qu'tlha'; to pursue duty. Why was the Klingon deliberately mispronouncing it?

"Thank you, Previously decommissioned due to the quintessential plasma coil issue that had plagued this class of vessel. Seller guarantees that the ship is space worthy, and has been retrofitted to repair the plasma coil issue and has be upgraded to the latest technology. Ten Day Warranty is included."

Several of the people in the room ceased their side conversations to focus on the auction.

"Ship is currently docked in Hanger Three in the Terellian Company Ship Yards in Orbit. Do I hear a starting bid of Ten Thousand Bars of Latinum?"

"Ten Thousand." One of the Vulcan's had chimed in.

"Eleven Thousand." The Andorian general glared at the Vulcan's.

"Thirteen Thousand." The Klingon laughed

"Fourteen Thousan." The Andorian

"Fifteen" The Vulcan

"Twenty" a Portly man on the side raised his hand.

"Twenty Three" The Klingon

"Thirty Thousand." The Andorian waved his hand again.

"Thirty Five" The Vulcan

"Fourty! I can no let an honored vessal fall into the hands of an Andorian, or a Vulcan!"

"Fifty" The Andorian, who apppeared to hesitate before one of the aides edged him on.

"HA! You can have it for Fifty, I am glad it cost you more!" The Klingon laughed and ate another piece of Turkey.

"Sold!" The Cardassian smiled. The commissions would do him well.

"Finally. Lot Four One Three, Four One Three. Groumal Class Freighter, SS. Warden, UFP Registration N48E-MC. Several ship upgrades include extra cargo bays, increased shielding, weapons and engine capacity. Needs a good cleaning, but it is spaceworthy. Comes with two shuttles for transporting cargo. Bidding will begin at Three Hundred Bars of Latinum."

Langar perked up, so that was why Jones was here. The Warden was on the block. By the Prophets how had Jones ever lost it in the first place he wondered.

"Three Hundred." Jones fumed, only three hundred, but he was grateful it wasn't more."

"Mr. Jones has opened at three hundred bars." The auctioneer chimed in. "Ohh Mr. Jones, I have a note in the file about you being a former owner. Good bidding to you."

"Captain.... Capta" He was cut off.

"Four Hundred!" The Klingon who had now received what appeared to be a whole roasted turkey shouted out.

"Five Hundred!" A Trill from the other side of the room bid.

"Six Hundred." A Vulcan from the academy bid.

"One Thousand!" The Bolian shouted. Giggling to himself.

Froodle noticed the sudden increase in bidding. "Why are they bidding on that heap of junk?"

"Five Thousand" Jones barked from the back. He didn't have it.

"The Gentleman from Mars has bid at Five Thousand." The auctioneer spit out with gleam of joy.

"Six Thousand" The Trill with a monocle chimed in.

"Seven Thousand" Walt still didn't have it.

"Eight" the same Trill turned its nose towards Jones.

The Andorian General looked at the two. "Nine Thousand Bars."

"Ten Thousand Bars, that ship has had dead zombie critters in it, you don't want it, I think it even got cursed once." Jones snarled back at the Trill and the Andorian

"Ooooh! Twenty Thousand!" The Bolian raised his hand. "That is even more intriguing than when I thought it was just a freighter!"

Jones rubbed his face. "Twenty Thousand and One, you get in that ship, you're already marked. There are like thirty different people that want that thing blown up.

"Thirty Thousand!" The Bolian giggled as he raised his hand. The escorts with him cheering him on. The Auctioneer smiled.

"Mr. Jones, would you or, shall I say, be able to match the bid?" The Auctioneer smirked.

"That's Captain... Captain Jones... and no, he can choke on it."

Langar was a little shocked, that had gone fast and in a very strange way. There was no way that ship was worth that money, except maybe to Jones and it was clear he did not have that much.

"Sold to Mr. Allowt for Thirty thousand plus Twenty Percent Buyers Premium." The assembled group politely clapped.

"Oooh exquisite! Come! Let us covort in our new ship! Giambi, Harli, Froli! Bring the Chocolate Sauce!"

"How exciting. We will take a fifteen minute recess." Jones stopped listening, his mind raced to how he was going to get his ship back. He watched as the Bolian was congratulated by the others around him. Mr. Allowt stood up and headed out of the room.

"Well..." Jones rubbed his face. "Now what?"

"That was unexpected....damn eccentrics." Jan said, shaking his head.

"What do you have on him Jan?" Walt grabbed a padd out of his coat. It refused to flicker on. He tapped it against the wall and it lit up, any information?"

Froodle joined in with the others congratulating the Bolian. "Allowt! Whatever did you buy that thing for?" He laughed

"Delahkin! I though I might turn it into a flying brothel! Shall I sign you up for a lifetime membership?" The Bolian laughed back "Oh and who's the big stud you have there?" He eyed up Langar.

"Who Lounger?" Froodle smirked "He's just the hired help, does what he's told, fetches and carries that kind of thing. Don't you Lounger?""

"Oh really?" The Bolian came over and grabbed Langar's arm "I say, perhaps I could find a spot for a big boy like you on the ship, would you like that?"

Langar shook the Bolian free "Not particularly" he snarled

"Ohh he's moody!" The Bolian was delighted "I like the brooding ones! Delahkin is he for sale?"

"Well..." Froodle was enjoying himself now "Everything has a price!"

"Im not for sale and I don't work for Delahkin here" Langar explained slowly "I work for his father, who's one of the few people who seems to have a use for his son"

The Bolian was open mouthed in joyous shock "I say, brooding and surly! Even better!" He patted Langar on the arm again "We'll have to talk later sweetie" He turned back to Froodle and their flunkies a waiter arrived with a tray of drinks and hey all began toasting his purchase.

Langar stepped back and watched, thoroughly disliking his job and wondering if the pay was really worth having to breath the same air as these rich bastards.

Five minutes later Froodle and the Bolin were in a deep conversation, looking over at Langar and laughing. Then Froodle waved him over.

"What do you want Delahkin?" Lanagr asked with a sigh "Im trying to do my job"

"I have a little errand for you Lounger" Froodle said with a smile. "Take my dear friend Allowt's credit chip over and pay for that ship he just brought"

The Bolian pulled out a slim black PaDD device and waved it backwards and forwards under Langar's nose. "Ohh can I trust you with this big boy?"

"You could, except I don't run errands" Langar replied and moved to step back again

"Just you do as you're told Lounger!" Froodle snapped "I'm with my friends, I'm perfectly safe here! Now take the credit chip and get on with it!"

The Bolian watched wide eyed, still waving the black chip teasingly.

Langar was about to refuse again but he'd had enough of Froodle and the Bolian for a while. He snatched the credit chip. "Alright, give it here" Besides he reasoned, if something happened to Froodle he could honestly tell his father that he had been following Delhakin's instructions.

"Oh you are an eager one arn't you" The Bolian simpered "Take it over to the cash office" He pointed to the back of the room "And bring it straight back now, I'll be waiting for you right here" He blew a kiss at Langar and Froodle hooted with laughter.

Langar turned away in disgust and began pushing his way through the crowd towards the back of the room.

Behind him the Bolian turned to Froodle "You're such a naughty boy Delhakin! Fancy suggesting I accuse your bodyguard of stealing my credit chip! But oh, what fun! How long until we report it?"

Froodle smiled, he'd found a way to be rid of his tiresome watcher. Now he could hire his own, instead of somebody pushed on him by his father. "Oh let's give it a few minutes, let him pay for the ship for you first, then we can have him arrested."

"Excuse me," Morgan appeared at the side of the gaggle, "I just wanted to say thank you for agreeing to take the Warden, and wanted to ask how you got the fumigation clearance."

The Bolian blinked at the little human in confusion. "Fumi.... fumigation? What?!"

"I... assumed that it had been treated after... Well, it had been used by Dr Pass. Did they not tell you?" Morgan feigned concern. "Oh dear."

'They most certainly did not!" The Bolian replied, "Who is Doctor Pass?"

Morgan looked as shocked as he could manage, "You... you weren't told? Oh dear. I hope this doesn't nullify the sale."

He leaned in, "Dr Morgan Pass is on the Federations top 5 most wanted list. Genocide. Wiped out half a planet with a virus. A simple network search will turn him up. He used the Warden as a research base for some time while he was on the run. When we handed it over for sale it was on the assurance that it would be properly treated. It seems they just intended to hand the problem off to an ill-informed new owner."

The Bolian frowned and then lit up a smile "My good friend!" He giggled. "It will need more than a fumigation, perhaps I can get the sale canceled, or perhaps, it will add to the dangerous allure of the brothel!" The Bolian. "But, I just don't know that is a lot of the deal with. Giambi, perhaps you need to reign me in more!" He smacked Giambi on the behind.

Morgan held up a placating hand, "Please don't cancel the sale. I... think I can have this sorted. I have a specialist team I can have assembled... within three hours. Give us clearance to clean the ship and we will have it scoured by this time tomorrow, at a considered rate, given you were not informed ahead of time."

"What would be your take, there is always an angle." The Bolian looked towards Pass. "

Morgan smiled, "I get a cut if the sale goes through. I also get paid a moderate consideration for the clean. The one way I don't get paid is if that ship doesn't move off the lot. So it is in my interest to see it works for you. You give me the code, I get the ship clean. You have your ship, I get my cut of the take and we haggle about cleaning prices later. Deal?"

Morgan held out a hand, with a black leather glove on to shake a bargain.

Allowt grabbed the hand of Morgan. "It is a deal and then after we are done with it I'm sure it will need another cleaning!"

Langar was nearly at the back of the room, the crowd parted and he found himself stood right next to Jones.

"Captain" He greeted him "It's been a while"

Walt looked up from his padd. The voice sounded familiar. When he focused on the man standing in front of him, he recognized the face.

"Tarn, Langar Tarn!" He tried to stop the smile spread across his face." He paused for a moment before sticking out his hand. "Man, this has brought all of the rats out of the wall huh?"

Langar gripped Jones wrist and returned a Bajoran handshake, then noticed Valentine standing there too.

"He's here too!" He grined "I see what you mean by rats! Have you been drinking Jan? As if I couldnt guess!"

Walt nudged Jan. "find anything yet?"

Jan swayed slightly, almost drunkenly. He straightened up with his head cocked to the left.

"Well....if that padd is what i think it is, I think we can make a discreet switcheroo of the accounting numbers, then lock out Mr. Blue man's grou...card. Shouldn't be too difficult, getting outta here afterwards though, might be a challenge. Something like that is gonna be noticed fairly quickly by our man with the blue face." Jan said, slurring slightly.

He lazily grabbed the padd, and was starting to turn when he made a devilish grin and chuckle.

"Wait wait, I just had this really interesting idea." Jan said, grinning.

"Whoa!" Langar snatched the credit chip back "Not so fast my little techno-clepto! That's not mine and you can't steal it! I have a respectable job now, I'm not throwing it away on some fraud charge!"

"I mean, I'm sure we can cover that up, besides." Jones pointed towards Froodle, "If you call that respectable, than I may as well be the President of the Federation. Jan You've got magic in that old hat of yours? Besides, I've got some good Andorian Whiskey stored away on there.

"Yeah well, respectable for me" Langar grudgingly agreed

"It's real simple, we're switching some accounting information. But to cover our misdeed, we're gonna cause an even bigger one." Jan said.

"Excuse me gentlemen," said a small voice from their shoulder level. Morgan had a way of insinuating himself up that was creepy. "I believe I may have an offer that will be of interest to resourceful people such as yourself."

Walt turned and looked down at Morgan. "Oh yeah?" He realized who it was. "Doc... This is some straight up Rip Van Winkle nonsense going on here, what did you do?"

"It seems the new owner of the SS Warden needs a cleaning team to sort out the ship before they take it away. I was wondering if I could interest you in the job? I have the access codes to the ship, and I know you to be men of honour. It is so hard to find help that won't just take advantage of the situation and steal the ship out form under the new owner's nose."

Morgan smiled faintly, "Good to see you, all by the way."

"You lot sure you didn't all plan this?" Langar said "Hello Doctor" He said to Pass, then looked around "You got the lovely Lotte around here too?"

"Good to see you too Doc, this is all starting to feel like a set up, but I'll take my crew and ship. Jan, Tarn, Doc. Lottie's outside keeping watch, we need to grab her, but we in?" Jones asked

"Ha, I knew she'd be here" Langar chuckled

"Tarn you're in too right?" Jones pointed at Froodle and Allowt who were laughing in their direction.

Langar shook his head 'I can't, really. This is a good job for me." He nodded at Froodle "Yes, he's a jerk and so are his friends, but his Father's ok and it pays well"

"I mean, suit yourself, but I can tell when something is going to go south, I've been south and back several times." Walt smiled and then nodded back to the Bolian.

"I wonder," Morgan mused, "if it might interest you to know what I overheard? Your current charge is arranging for you to take the blame for stealing the Bolian's credit chip. That one that you are currently holding so protectively with no proof you have it on legitimate grounds."

"What?!" Langar whirled around to Morgan, holding up the credit chip "He's going to claim I stole this?!"

He was incensed "Son of a...! I know exactly who put that thought in to the blue bastard's head, Froodle! I'll feed that lil creep to the Pah Wraiths so help me!"

"Thank you Doctor" He turned back to Jones "Captain I'm in!" Then tossed the credit chip to Jan. "Catch! See what you can get out of that before those two cut it off!"

"Alright, lets' get Lottie, let's get the ship, and let's get the hell out of here... I'm tired of wearing such formal atire." Jones took the wire from his neck."

Jan fumbled with the chip, nearly staggering over. "Way ahead of ya my friend. We'll be the proud owners of our own ship again, and cause some excellent financial mischief." Jan said, interfacing with the chip.


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