“Where are the large Q-tips?” Gleb snarled.
“Q-tips, isle three.” Mowen called from his register. He had three different cameras trained on the station owner, so he didn’t ‘forget’ to pay for anything.
“I’m looking at Q-tips, but these aren’t even big enough to clean a child’s ear.” Gleb complained.
“Those good Q-tips. Your ears are too big!” Mowen hollered back.
“Hey Mowen, you wouldn’t happen to have any large eared station owners in stock, would you?” Vince asked as he stepped into the Consumer Value Store.
“Isle three.” Mowen sighed.
Vince looked up towards the ceiling where signs hung with the isle numbers and products they held. He also noted that the simple, economic build of the isles and shelves stood in contrast with the security sensor net worthy of Starfleet Command looking down from above the isle signs. Vince walked to the middle isle and found Gleb searching the shelves.
“On Ferenginar you can get Q-tips two centimeters around.” Gleb grumbled.
“Rumor has it the station is being sold for one hundred and twenty alnits.” Vince said quietly.
Gleb took a long sideways look at him. “That Deltan told you, didn’t she? She gives great oo-max, but wouldn’t go in the ear canal until I cleaned them out.”
“Sounds like the two of you have lovely pillow talk.”
“You don’t want to waste any time talking, she charges by the hour.”
“And I don’t want to waste any of your time, so I’ll get to it. I want to buy the station.”
Gleb gave Vince another long incredulous stare. “You?”
Vince ignored the skepticism. “When can I enter my bid?”
“Bid?” Gleb asked. “There is no bid, the station is sold.”
“It’s done? When? To who?” Vince’s voice began to carry.
“That’s not your business. And it’s not done, the deed still needs to be signed over, but the money is already in escrow.”
“So that’s why you’re here, to transfer the deed. And the buyer probably demanded an inspection.” Vince felt his options running out, but figured he could always gamble on greed. “One hundred and twenty five thousand.”
“You don’t have that sort of money.”
“I have investors. Will it get me the station?”
Gleb turned back towards the shelf. He picked up a bag of cotton balls and a pair of tweezers before heading towards the register. “Five thousand alnits isn’t very much to cancel a contract.”
“But it would be your five thousand. I can’t imagine you’re being left with a Nagus’s ransom after you pay off you loans and investors.” Vince said in trail.
Gleb hesitated. “I’ll let you know.”
“When?” Vince insisted.
“Soon.” Gleb said, paid for his goods, and left.
*********************
Gleb would sell to him, Vince was sure the Ferengi would not give up promise of more profit. There was just one thing left to do, get the rest of the money. Quick.
Dell’s was as busy as Jendi had said. The busiest Vince had ever seen it. There were easily over fifty people in the restaurant. For civilized space, fifty people would not be considered a crowd, and even here in Dell’s there were still empty tables. But there was an air of financial success about the place. It almost made Vince believe that his fundraising plan was a legitimately good one. If not good, it was at least a convenient way to raise the money quickly. Legitimacy was another thing all together. Vince quickly pushed the thought out of his mind.
Even though there were still free tables, Vince understood why Jendi had opted to take Tama to the replimat. The current patrons were a loud, heavy smoking, heavy drinking bunch. Dell walked out from behind the bar with a tray of frothing pints. Some of his customers had actually become drunk enough to take the Bartender’s recommendation on the chicken fried steak.
“Business seems to have picked up.” Vince said as Dell passed by him after delivering the rounds.
“I had a few reservations about handing over twenty-seven large to you Vince, but if you can keep the station packed like this…” Dell looked at his customers with deep satisfaction.
“Just don’t drive them away with the house special.” Vince said, patting Dell on the back.
“Not a problem, most of these fellas have better taste than you.” Dell shot back. “Oh, and did you hear Pia sold out of those shirts?”
“The ones that say ‘I survived the void thanks to the Rouge Star Orbital’?”
“Yup, this crowd couldn’t get enough of them.” Dell smiled. “We’re doing a good thing here, for all of us. You best win that bid.”
“We’ll know soon.” Vince assured him.
“Well I’ve got business to attend to.” Dell headed off to the bar to fill another round of the house brew.
“So do I.” Vince said, and headed for the loudest table in the restaurant.
There were five men sitting around it, each with three cards either laying face down in front of them, or held in their hand, close to their bodies. The dealer flipped one card into the middle of the table, and the betting commenced. A burly green fellow called the blind. The second quickly folded. There was a check, a raise and the next card was laid down face up.
This time the green fellow checked, as well as the next man, while the last pushed a third of his stack of chips into the pot. The green fellow folded his hand and only two card players were left.
“So what do you think Vincent? One stick on the first flop, one on the second. With a duex and a ten it can’t be a straight. Does Mister Fell have a flush with the three in his hand?”
“I would really love to give you advice Jaster, really. But I have no clue what you’re playing.”
“The game is threes and five, Vincent. We’re playing with a three suit deck, coins, cups and sticks. Three cards for each player. Then there’s a first flop, second flop, and the hope, which are all common cards for all player. At the end the best 5 card hand wins. We’ve flopped two sticks, do you think Mr. Fell has the flush, or is he bluffing?
“Or maybe he has a pair or three of a kind. I don’t really know this game, so I really can’t say”
“Not the way he’s been betting, no Mr. Kell has it all or he has nothing at all.” Jaster tapped his finger on the three cards laying face down on the table in front of him. Finally he called the bet.
The card was the nine of sticks. Mr. Kell raised the pot again. Without even taking a second glance at the cards, Jaster pushed the entirety of his chips into the pot. “All in, Mr. Kell. How say you?”
With a huff Mr. Kell folded.
“You had him beat the entire time.” Vince was impressed.
“Maybe.” Jaster replied, while he sorted out his chips. “Or maybe I just knew he didn’t have the flush.” Jaster finished stacking his chips up then looked at Vince. “Sit down Vincent, have a drink.”
“There aren’t any free seats.” Vince gestured at the table.
“That’s fine. Mr. Kell and Bandosh here were just going to get us all a round.” The large green fellow, apparently called Bandosh, stood immediately with Jaster’s words. Mr. Kell cursed under his breath.
“They don’t have to, I’m fine, really.” Vince looked meekly at the towering Bandosh.
“Of course they do.” Jaster said. “They have to do whatever I tell them too.” Mr. Kell stood and dragged his feet off to the bar with Bandosh in tow. “Sit Vincent.” Jaster commanded. “Tell me what you need.”
“Do I have to need something to talk to my old friend Jaster?”
The pirate stared at the station administrator. “Of course you do. I’m not the sort that has his clients making social calls. As a matter of fact most of my clients don’t want anything to do with me. But if you aren’t ready to make your proposal, allow me to make one.”
“What’s that?”
“Come work for me Vincent. I’ve seen what you’ve done with this station, and I could use a man of your talents.”
“I’m sorry Jaster. I already have a job.”
“Are you sure? I’m making this offer once. If you pass it up now, I will not ask again.”
“I’m sure.”
“Fair enough.” Jaster sat back in his chair. Mr. Kell and Bandosh came back with pints of beer for the table and quickly distributed them. “Now say what you came here to say.”
Mr. Kell took his seat, while Bandosh stood uncomfortably close behind Vince’s chair. Vince decided to be direct. “I need to borrow thirty five thousand alnits.”
“Now there’s a number.” Jaster said. “What for?”
“Does that matter?” Vince asked.
Jaster took a long sip from his beer and leaned in. “I have other clients than just yourself Vincent. They participate in all manner of business venture. I would not want to see one of my investments competing with another. I’m afraid full disclosure is a prerequisite for the loan.”
Vince lifted the beer in front of him to his lips and took a gulp. And another. And one more. And he continued until he had drained the glass. Jaster was making him feeling very uncomfortable, and he hoped the alcohol would ease his mind. Unfortunately it only made him need to pee. Vince put the glass back on the table and looked at Jaster’s cold eyes. “I’m going to buy this station. I need that money to do it.”
Jaster chuckled. “Want to be your own boss, eh? Determine your own destiny.”
“Something like that.”
Jaster shook his head. “You should have taken my offer Vince.”
“I’ve got my own plans.”
“Obviously, but I won’t help you with them.”
“Why not?” Vince began to stand as he spoke, but a firm hand from Bandosh on his should pushed him back down into his seat.
“It’s nothing personal Vincent.” Jaster said coolly. “However, that particular investment would compete with another transaction.”
Vince’s mouth gapped and he pointed a finger at Jaster. “You’re lending money to the person that’s buying the station from Gleb.”
Jaster rolled his eyes, “Vincent, I am the person buying the station from Gleb.”
Vince blinked several times. “Why? This place is in the middle of nowhere, what would the Orion Pirates want with it? OUCH!” Bandosh smacked Vince in the back of the head.
“We are the Orion Syndicate, Vincent. Bandosh does not like being called a pirate. Now think about it. This station is under no one’s political or legal jurisdiction. This is the perfect base to run our certain brand of operations from. There are no laws out here but our own. One day the Syndicate could even claim this empty territory as sovereign. Who would care? Who would complain? No one wants this space. And if just one galactic power recognized us, say the Ferengi, they can be bought easily enough, we would become a fully legitimate avenue for any illegitimate business.”
“What about the shop owners?”
“That’s not the kind of business I’m in Vincent. They’ll have to go, except for maybe that Deltan and her girls. The boys seem to like them.” Jaster smiled and Mr. Kell let out a disturbing chuckle.
“I brought antimatter from you,” Vince said, “very illegal, Federation antimatter, and this is how you repay me? I brought that with my own savings to keep this station afloat.”
“You’re a good administrator Vincent, so I’ll ignore your accusations and allow you something I don’t allow many people, a second chance to accept my job offer.”
“I don’t want your job, Jaster. I’m going to buy this station with or without you.”
Jaster’s stare turned hard and cold. “Don’t make an enemy of me Vincent. Things could get messy. Very messy.”
Vince was finally allowed to leave. He tried not to seem like he was hurrying out of the bar, but he was sure Jaster Horn had an innate sense of all the cards he was holding. His prior good humor was gone, the situation, hopeless. If Jaster wanted the station, Jaster would get it. Unless for some reason Jaster Horn decided he didn’t want the station.
“Q-tips, isle three.” Mowen called from his register. He had three different cameras trained on the station owner, so he didn’t ‘forget’ to pay for anything.
“I’m looking at Q-tips, but these aren’t even big enough to clean a child’s ear.” Gleb complained.
“Those good Q-tips. Your ears are too big!” Mowen hollered back.
“Hey Mowen, you wouldn’t happen to have any large eared station owners in stock, would you?” Vince asked as he stepped into the Consumer Value Store.
“Isle three.” Mowen sighed.
Vince looked up towards the ceiling where signs hung with the isle numbers and products they held. He also noted that the simple, economic build of the isles and shelves stood in contrast with the security sensor net worthy of Starfleet Command looking down from above the isle signs. Vince walked to the middle isle and found Gleb searching the shelves.
“On Ferenginar you can get Q-tips two centimeters around.” Gleb grumbled.
“Rumor has it the station is being sold for one hundred and twenty alnits.” Vince said quietly.
Gleb took a long sideways look at him. “That Deltan told you, didn’t she? She gives great oo-max, but wouldn’t go in the ear canal until I cleaned them out.”
“Sounds like the two of you have lovely pillow talk.”
“You don’t want to waste any time talking, she charges by the hour.”
“And I don’t want to waste any of your time, so I’ll get to it. I want to buy the station.”
Gleb gave Vince another long incredulous stare. “You?”
Vince ignored the skepticism. “When can I enter my bid?”
“Bid?” Gleb asked. “There is no bid, the station is sold.”
“It’s done? When? To who?” Vince’s voice began to carry.
“That’s not your business. And it’s not done, the deed still needs to be signed over, but the money is already in escrow.”
“So that’s why you’re here, to transfer the deed. And the buyer probably demanded an inspection.” Vince felt his options running out, but figured he could always gamble on greed. “One hundred and twenty five thousand.”
“You don’t have that sort of money.”
“I have investors. Will it get me the station?”
Gleb turned back towards the shelf. He picked up a bag of cotton balls and a pair of tweezers before heading towards the register. “Five thousand alnits isn’t very much to cancel a contract.”
“But it would be your five thousand. I can’t imagine you’re being left with a Nagus’s ransom after you pay off you loans and investors.” Vince said in trail.
Gleb hesitated. “I’ll let you know.”
“When?” Vince insisted.
“Soon.” Gleb said, paid for his goods, and left.
*********************
Gleb would sell to him, Vince was sure the Ferengi would not give up promise of more profit. There was just one thing left to do, get the rest of the money. Quick.
Dell’s was as busy as Jendi had said. The busiest Vince had ever seen it. There were easily over fifty people in the restaurant. For civilized space, fifty people would not be considered a crowd, and even here in Dell’s there were still empty tables. But there was an air of financial success about the place. It almost made Vince believe that his fundraising plan was a legitimately good one. If not good, it was at least a convenient way to raise the money quickly. Legitimacy was another thing all together. Vince quickly pushed the thought out of his mind.
Even though there were still free tables, Vince understood why Jendi had opted to take Tama to the replimat. The current patrons were a loud, heavy smoking, heavy drinking bunch. Dell walked out from behind the bar with a tray of frothing pints. Some of his customers had actually become drunk enough to take the Bartender’s recommendation on the chicken fried steak.
“Business seems to have picked up.” Vince said as Dell passed by him after delivering the rounds.
“I had a few reservations about handing over twenty-seven large to you Vince, but if you can keep the station packed like this…” Dell looked at his customers with deep satisfaction.
“Just don’t drive them away with the house special.” Vince said, patting Dell on the back.
“Not a problem, most of these fellas have better taste than you.” Dell shot back. “Oh, and did you hear Pia sold out of those shirts?”
“The ones that say ‘I survived the void thanks to the Rouge Star Orbital’?”
“Yup, this crowd couldn’t get enough of them.” Dell smiled. “We’re doing a good thing here, for all of us. You best win that bid.”
“We’ll know soon.” Vince assured him.
“Well I’ve got business to attend to.” Dell headed off to the bar to fill another round of the house brew.
“So do I.” Vince said, and headed for the loudest table in the restaurant.
There were five men sitting around it, each with three cards either laying face down in front of them, or held in their hand, close to their bodies. The dealer flipped one card into the middle of the table, and the betting commenced. A burly green fellow called the blind. The second quickly folded. There was a check, a raise and the next card was laid down face up.
This time the green fellow checked, as well as the next man, while the last pushed a third of his stack of chips into the pot. The green fellow folded his hand and only two card players were left.
“So what do you think Vincent? One stick on the first flop, one on the second. With a duex and a ten it can’t be a straight. Does Mister Fell have a flush with the three in his hand?”
“I would really love to give you advice Jaster, really. But I have no clue what you’re playing.”
“The game is threes and five, Vincent. We’re playing with a three suit deck, coins, cups and sticks. Three cards for each player. Then there’s a first flop, second flop, and the hope, which are all common cards for all player. At the end the best 5 card hand wins. We’ve flopped two sticks, do you think Mr. Fell has the flush, or is he bluffing?
“Or maybe he has a pair or three of a kind. I don’t really know this game, so I really can’t say”
“Not the way he’s been betting, no Mr. Kell has it all or he has nothing at all.” Jaster tapped his finger on the three cards laying face down on the table in front of him. Finally he called the bet.
The card was the nine of sticks. Mr. Kell raised the pot again. Without even taking a second glance at the cards, Jaster pushed the entirety of his chips into the pot. “All in, Mr. Kell. How say you?”
With a huff Mr. Kell folded.
“You had him beat the entire time.” Vince was impressed.
“Maybe.” Jaster replied, while he sorted out his chips. “Or maybe I just knew he didn’t have the flush.” Jaster finished stacking his chips up then looked at Vince. “Sit down Vincent, have a drink.”
“There aren’t any free seats.” Vince gestured at the table.
“That’s fine. Mr. Kell and Bandosh here were just going to get us all a round.” The large green fellow, apparently called Bandosh, stood immediately with Jaster’s words. Mr. Kell cursed under his breath.
“They don’t have to, I’m fine, really.” Vince looked meekly at the towering Bandosh.
“Of course they do.” Jaster said. “They have to do whatever I tell them too.” Mr. Kell stood and dragged his feet off to the bar with Bandosh in tow. “Sit Vincent.” Jaster commanded. “Tell me what you need.”
“Do I have to need something to talk to my old friend Jaster?”
The pirate stared at the station administrator. “Of course you do. I’m not the sort that has his clients making social calls. As a matter of fact most of my clients don’t want anything to do with me. But if you aren’t ready to make your proposal, allow me to make one.”
“What’s that?”
“Come work for me Vincent. I’ve seen what you’ve done with this station, and I could use a man of your talents.”
“I’m sorry Jaster. I already have a job.”
“Are you sure? I’m making this offer once. If you pass it up now, I will not ask again.”
“I’m sure.”
“Fair enough.” Jaster sat back in his chair. Mr. Kell and Bandosh came back with pints of beer for the table and quickly distributed them. “Now say what you came here to say.”
Mr. Kell took his seat, while Bandosh stood uncomfortably close behind Vince’s chair. Vince decided to be direct. “I need to borrow thirty five thousand alnits.”
“Now there’s a number.” Jaster said. “What for?”
“Does that matter?” Vince asked.
Jaster took a long sip from his beer and leaned in. “I have other clients than just yourself Vincent. They participate in all manner of business venture. I would not want to see one of my investments competing with another. I’m afraid full disclosure is a prerequisite for the loan.”
Vince lifted the beer in front of him to his lips and took a gulp. And another. And one more. And he continued until he had drained the glass. Jaster was making him feeling very uncomfortable, and he hoped the alcohol would ease his mind. Unfortunately it only made him need to pee. Vince put the glass back on the table and looked at Jaster’s cold eyes. “I’m going to buy this station. I need that money to do it.”
Jaster chuckled. “Want to be your own boss, eh? Determine your own destiny.”
“Something like that.”
Jaster shook his head. “You should have taken my offer Vince.”
“I’ve got my own plans.”
“Obviously, but I won’t help you with them.”
“Why not?” Vince began to stand as he spoke, but a firm hand from Bandosh on his should pushed him back down into his seat.
“It’s nothing personal Vincent.” Jaster said coolly. “However, that particular investment would compete with another transaction.”
Vince’s mouth gapped and he pointed a finger at Jaster. “You’re lending money to the person that’s buying the station from Gleb.”
Jaster rolled his eyes, “Vincent, I am the person buying the station from Gleb.”
Vince blinked several times. “Why? This place is in the middle of nowhere, what would the Orion Pirates want with it? OUCH!” Bandosh smacked Vince in the back of the head.
“We are the Orion Syndicate, Vincent. Bandosh does not like being called a pirate. Now think about it. This station is under no one’s political or legal jurisdiction. This is the perfect base to run our certain brand of operations from. There are no laws out here but our own. One day the Syndicate could even claim this empty territory as sovereign. Who would care? Who would complain? No one wants this space. And if just one galactic power recognized us, say the Ferengi, they can be bought easily enough, we would become a fully legitimate avenue for any illegitimate business.”
“What about the shop owners?”
“That’s not the kind of business I’m in Vincent. They’ll have to go, except for maybe that Deltan and her girls. The boys seem to like them.” Jaster smiled and Mr. Kell let out a disturbing chuckle.
“I brought antimatter from you,” Vince said, “very illegal, Federation antimatter, and this is how you repay me? I brought that with my own savings to keep this station afloat.”
“You’re a good administrator Vincent, so I’ll ignore your accusations and allow you something I don’t allow many people, a second chance to accept my job offer.”
“I don’t want your job, Jaster. I’m going to buy this station with or without you.”
Jaster’s stare turned hard and cold. “Don’t make an enemy of me Vincent. Things could get messy. Very messy.”
Vince was finally allowed to leave. He tried not to seem like he was hurrying out of the bar, but he was sure Jaster Horn had an innate sense of all the cards he was holding. His prior good humor was gone, the situation, hopeless. If Jaster wanted the station, Jaster would get it. Unless for some reason Jaster Horn decided he didn’t want the station.
