"Just Looking"

[Guest Vulcan3324]

"Just Looking"

Lieutenant j.g. Laarell Teykier

Personal Log

November 02, 23--

 

Laarell walked out of Engineering with a cross between a bemused and a dazed expression on her verdant face.

 

"Damn it, I'm a scientist, not an engineer," she muttered, arriving at the block of quarters that included her own.

 

Laarell, ever the collector of relics, was particularly looking forward to visiting the mysterious world of Al-Ucard. She looked at the wall next to her bunk; covered with shelves of trinkets from Vulcan, Qo'Nos, Earth, Orion ... practically every planet that she had frequented, and a few odd ones from her brother's shop from worlds she had yet to visit.

 

"Hmm ... perhaps another blade," she pondered, envisioning how a third blade would look adorning the starboard side of the room. Yes, one would look quite well next to the lirpa and her personally designed bat'leth.

 

She carefully removed a small pack from her storage locker and placed within it a few necessities: a standard-issue umbrella, Starfleet trail mix, a rain poncho... but she was forgetting something important, she feared...

 

Bartering items, that's what she needed! Laarell dug in a crate within her locker. Somewhere along the line she had picked up a tin of Santorian Glowing Larvae. Good trade items if you could get them, which was a difficult feat. But of course, if they were easy to locate, they wouldn't be very good trade items, would they be?

 

Her hand grasped a tin that was cool to the touch from micro-refrigeration. She lifted the lid, checking to make certain that her prizes were still alive.

 

The multicolored worms slithered down into the dirt made from powdered emeralds, the larvae's nutritional source. Laarell smiled at how attractive they were.

 

She'd picked up the young crustaceans from a scheming Tellarite cadet who hadn't taken to heart the concept of 'never place high wagers on a game of six-card warhoon when your opponent has been playing for many years more than you'. The Orion chuckled, picking out two of the creatures for her own collection and placing the rest of them and their tin in her sack.

 

As she walked over to the wardrobe closet, she searched for an 'all-purpose' costume that would enable her to blend into her surroundings with relative ease. She didn't want an incident on her hands ... not until she was a commanding officer of her own vessel.

 

She whistled as she walked down the darkened corridors, drawing annoyed glances of the less jovial members of the crew who weren't amiable to shrill melodies resonating through the inner passageways of the Morningstar.

 

"Oh well," she thought wryly. "They can live with it."

 

Transporter Room Two was empty save the technician handily working the controls. She smiled sweetly at him.

 

"I need transportation to the edge of the recommended Al-Ucard visitation zone." Laarell put on her most innocent, angelic, look.

 

It didn't work.

 

The hulking Brikar crossed his arms. "And why, Lieutenant, would you want to visit the edge of the visitation area?"

 

Blinking, she didn't let her ethereal expression relax. "Why shouldn't I? Deeper into the city... I can examine the culture more deeply..."

 

He wasn't buying it. "Mmmhmm. Perhaps you'd better be suited studying the culture in the area recommended for Starfleet personnel to explore."

 

She shrugged. It wasn't her fault that the more isolated bazaars that might have had more opportunities for bartering were grouped just outside of the 'Great Al-Ucard Starfleet Personnel Barrier'.

 

"Fine, the center will work. But it's getting dark on the planet, and I'd like to be there before the next sunrise."

 

Rain was pouring as the transporter beam rematerialized the Orion on the surface of Al-Ucard.

 

Laarell looked up through the foggy mist at the Al-Ucard 'pod flight patterns evidenced by the blinking lights in the high reaches of the troposphere. A sudden bolt of lightning filled the air with the distinct scent of electricity. The Orion elements of tushfa, kar, and vendin, roughly translated as darkness, fear, and death-worry (fright), were virtually embodied that perilous night.

 

The Ucardians on the ground dressed in dark clothing, reminiscent of perhaps something that could have been worn to a funeral in the late Nineteenth Century on Earth.

 

"Bleak," she remarked to the gusting wind. "Can't think of a better term to describe this depressing locality." She pulled out her tricorder and loaded the map that she had loaded previously that evening onto the small viewer that the instrument provided.

 

She set off towards the 'Forbidden Zone' with a spring in her step and a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh well," she mused. "I'll only lose out on a Starfleet commission that I've spent my adult life working towards ... maybe a few years in a Starfleet detainment facility... " She sighed. "I'll at least have a chance at a good sales pitch off to these Ucardians."

 

The first open-air shop she came to wasn't open for business, unluckily enough for the proprietor. Curiously enough, the sign implied that the store would be open that evening. The timing of the store's hours of operation perplexed Laarell, but she chalked it up to a faulty sign manufacturer.

 

The next was more of a mainstream establishment that wasn't interested in exotic goods, but would be more than willing to sell the Orion a pair of Ucardian rain boots, if she would be interested in it. Polite denial of the goods caused the owner to politely but firmly point out the exit of the building.

 

She had reached the border of the designated Starfleet area, but she hadn't yet located the sort of shop she was looking for. As the last rays of sunlight passed beyond the visage of the horizon, Teykier stepped across the dividing line between 'allowed' and 'not allowed', and pulled the long velvet cloak closer to her.

 

Immediately on her left was an unmarked structure with various oddities displayed on the window. Hoping that she'd get a bite on the larvae, she headed in.

 

Chimes on the door struck, alerting the owner to the presence of a customer. From the moment of her entrance, Laarell was acutely aware of a rather objectionable, musty odor arising from a censer at the right of the door.

 

"What may I interest you in today, fair one?"

 

An old, wizened, male Ucardian exited from a concealed doorway masked by a rich, crimson curtain. He was, like many members of his race, clothed entirely in dark hues.

 

Laarell gave a slightly uninterested shrug, a tactic that she had learned in trade dealings before; the goal being to show that if you can't use the goods, I can go to anyone else.

 

"Perhaps, instead of the flip side of things, you might be interested in some things of mine." She reached into the sack and retrieved the container of larvae. "Santorian Glowing Larvae. The finest to be had. I've been caring for them for several years now." The Ucardian's greedy eyes boggled. "A very rare find, especially in this part of the quadrant. I'd trade you for a few relics of this world."

 

"Let me see them." Laarell obliged him, opening the contained, but cautiously did not allow the creatures to leave her grasp. "In perfect health, I might add. Quite the bargain."

 

The old Ucardian rubbed his hands together; a perfect attribute to his avaricious tendencies. "What did you have in mind?" he inquired. "Tell, tell!"

 

The Orion internally rolled his eyes. He was practically drooling, and the pupils of his eyes were turning into the currency sign of Al-Ucard. "I'm thinking of a dagger, or any sort of small blade. Do you have anything that might be of that nature?"

 

He was still staring at the iridescent worms in the refrigerated tin. "Yes, yes yes! Of course I do!" As he walked into the back, doubtlessly to retrieve the article he had in mind, Laarell caught a quick scent of a spicy, exotic fragrance that seemed to surround and intoxicate the room in the brief instant that the curtain was removed and the molecules possessing the aroma was allowed to enter the main part of the shop.

 

As he returned, carrying a moderately sized bundle, Teykier commented on the perfume.

 

"It's an ancient redolent formula. Nothing extraordinary." He carefully removed the protective coverings surrounding a highly polished short sword. "A 'Ucardian anlace'. You won't find another like it in a thousand shops. Worth twenty times that of the grubs you have."

 

She nodded and picked it up, studying it. "It's exquisitely carved." She ran an exploring finger over the crimson of the handle. "The drops of water upon it look as if they flowed from the clouds but today."

 

He looked at her quizzically. "Those aren't implied to be drops of water, sweet one." Before she could inquire further, he rewrapped the item. "I'll give you the dagger for the worms. And I'll even throw in some of the incense that you found so appealing." He cut her off again before she could utter a sound. "You can't refuse it."

 

Laarell looked out the window at the sultry night. "All right... I'll take you up on your offer."

 

He grinned. "Shall I write up a note of transaction for you?"

 

At this Laarell hesitated. It wasn't as if she wanted to have a written record that she was in unauthorized territory, but she was a professional collector, and her provenance records were meticulous. "But of course. And also include all known information about the dagger." He walked over to a computer terminal cleverly disguised as a coat of mail in accordance with the mystical feel of the establishment.

 

"Here you are, milady." He made a great show of kissing her hand. "Call again, will you?"

 

She nodded halfheartedly. "But of course."

 

As she walked back across the dividing line, a Ucardian grocery vendor called to her. "Come and sample the wares, auslander?

 

She laughed with a risibility that she hadn't felt since arriving on Al-Ucard.

 

"None today, thank you. I'm just looking."

 

=END LOG=