Trading on the Spot

[Guest STSF Neptune]

As near as he could tell, Camelot Station was about as decent of an outpost on the edge of forever as he’d seen in his nearly twenty-six years of Starfleet service that included service in two wars and a host of run-ins with hostile aliens, new life in forms barely recognizable and some weird customs that were not only alien, but downright amusing.

 

Master Chief Marcus Drice smirked slightly as he looked at the part the dealer was trying to sell him. He picked it up and inspected it carefully, mostly ignoring the Aliket’s heavy accent that his translator refused to parse. It was a rather well crafted Dominion-made scanner designed to detect minute flux in the catalytic reaction of a Dilithium crystal matrix, and while he had a whole supply cabinet full of such devices and few in his personal tool box, none of them were as exquisitely made or as accurate as the Dominion models, let alone one the better quality ones like the one he currently held in his hand.

 

“Looks kind of shoddy,” he said without looking up. He’d dealt with enough Ferengi, Nausicaans and Klingons in his time that no matter how scheming, gruffly or foul the Aliket attempted to be, it couldn’t compare. “Where’d you get this, a wreckage heap?”

 

“It wasn’t stolen,” the Aliket said, almost glaring. “And I will have you know this is in near menth condition.”

 

“Menth,” he said with a smirk. “The word you’re looking for is mint…”

 

The Aliket blushed. “Mint. Yes, mint.”

 

“So how much do you want for this hunk of junk?”

 

Again the Aliket shopkeeper narrowed his glance from his four eyes. “Junk, you call my wares junk and want to buy them still? Humans…”

 

“Oh,” Drice said as he continued looking over the scanner, which he had to admit really was in rather good condition. “I think it might make a nice paper weight.”

 

The Aliket blinked his upper set of eyes, unsure of what the human was talking about. “Paper weight?”

 

“You know something to hold down my stuff…”

 

“Mmm,” the shopkeep said after giving it some thought. “I will take five hundred of your credits…this is one of my best objects…”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Drice said with a hearty laugh. “Five hundred credits? That’s more than I’d pay for everything in this kiosk.”

 

“Then what do you think is a fair price?”

 

“Oh, I’d say maybe thirty-five, forty credits…”

 

“Bah,” the Alket said glowering. “I have to eat you know…”

 

“Seventy-five for this then,” Drice said holding up the scanner. “And I’ll give you another thirty-five for that box of stem-bolts, and I’ll even tell my grease monkeys to stop by your shop…”

 

“You drive a hard bargain,” the Aliket said stoking at his waddle. “I suppose that will do, but I still say I am being undercut here…”

 

“I am sure you do, but it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, I assume the stem bolts will be delivered to my ship?”

 

“That can be arranged… for a small fee…”

 

“I can afford it,” he said with a wide grin.

 

“I am sure you can. Which ship is it again?”

 

“The Cape Horn; we’re docked at berth five…”

 

“Very well, see to it you keep your end of the deal, I expect payment in full…”

 

“You’ll have it,” Drice said walking off with a smile on his face.

 

The Aliket salesman glared in the human’s general direction. “Humans,” he said with a huff. “They pay good money, but are they a pain in the jahj.