Balm of the Sacred Marketplace

Posted on Thu 4th Jul, 2019 @ 8:58pm by Captain Torrog & Trav & Morva
Edited on on Fri 19th Jun, 2020 @ 6:10am

1,289 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Slug and Grub
Timeline: MD 5, 1445

As it happened, Captain Torrog did not have his ship off the base in an hour. When he arrived back at Berth 1245, his ship was being refueled, and two mechanics were already taking his External Polarization Grid apart. There was no way he could leave for several hours. With a disgusted snort, he muttered, "Probably that Henry hooman got this started on purpose, just so I couldn't leave!"

He went aboard and gave his 5 crewmen three hours of leave. "And don't come back under the influence of black holes, either!" he shouted after them, as they scurried away from the ship.

"Ah, what's the use," he said in disgust. "Nothing is going right on this base. It's a black hole itself, and I'll probably never see any of them again. This is the hardest profit I've ever slaved over."

For a while, he puttered around the ship, taking this and putting it there, taking that and putting it here. All the while, he continued to berate the universe. "You couldn't let the ship make it home, could you? Oh no, we have to need repairs here at the end of the quadrant. It had to be a Starfleet base."

In truth, he knew that he was fortunate to have made the base. Being towed in by a Starfleet barge would have cost latinum, while the repairs and refueling here were next to nothing. "Darned Federation doesn't even know how to make a profit!"

Finally, he decided to try the place he'd heard of earlier on this run, Slug and Flee? Grub and Dub? What was the name of it? It was on a boat of some kind in a garden. "Whoever heard of a boat sailing inside a starbase?" he grumbled, as he used his shipboard computer to access the location database for SB109. "Doesn't even make sense."

Running his eye down the list of restaurants, he finally came to one called the Slug and Grub. "That must be it. Well, let's go see what kind of Ferengis live on a Starfleet base. I wonder if they have Slug-o-Cola?"

Locking up the interior of his ship, Torrog retraced his steps to the central core turbolift and tram station. It was a confusing center of business, filled with multiple languages and species of all kinds from everywhere in the known galaxy. For a moment, the captain stood and absorbed it all, dreaming of being a giant of profit with ears in every quadrant. With a sigh, he came back to reality and found his way around the base, eventually landing in Tivoli Gardens on Deck 1554.

Although he was amazed at what hoomans had done inside the base, at the flowing river and the gardens, as well as businesses, he refused to show it. "Hmf," he muttered to no one, and walked down to the river's edge. Along the walkway, he could see a dock going out into the river, and a barge was just pulling up to it. Suspecting passengers wouldn't be long leaving, he hurried over, wondering how much a ticket was going to cost him, and where he would find the food.

This particular barge was the Contentment, piloted by an elderly, positively sweet-faced Ferengi who gave Torrog a genial smile and waved at him to come aboard once the Argelian girl at the dock took his ticket.

"Welcome, welcome! How good it is to see a homeworlder! So many Hoomans and Betazoids here, and not enough of our own folk! Have a seat. My name is Trav," the pilot said. "How are you, this fine day?"

Torrog's mood lightened some at this greeting from a Ferengi. "I've been better," he grumbled just a bit, "but I've been worse, too. I'm Captain Torrog of FTV Sovatax¹. I'm looking for a good home-cooked meal. Is this where I find it?"

"Home-cooked? You've come to the right place, then. My wife, Morva, runs the Slug and Grub restaurants on this barge and my nephew Gar's barge, the Prosperous. You may have noticed I'm a bit tubby? Her food is why." Trav gave Torrog a conspiratorial look. "She takes great pride in her jellied gree worm, but I'm more fond of her flaked blood flea."

"That's long been a struggle for me to decide, but perhaps I'll have to try some of each," Torrog grinned at the man. He looked around the barge and noted the numbers coming on board. "It looks like you have found a profitable venture here, friend Trav. And you say there's another barge as well?"

"Yes. Gar's barge is probably down at the other end of the river by now. We meet at the central dock and travel in opposite directions, but we both cover the whole river and take guests to the Olla Podrida Craft Mall. The river runs right through the center of it, on the ground floor, and catwalks span the upper floors, allowing shoppers to cross easily from one side to the other. Now, if you're looking to set up shop on this base, this Riverwalk thing is the place to do it--unless you want to go fancy. All the high-falutin' places are up in the Promenade. Tivoli's a lot more relaxed," Trav explained. "What kind of profit are you interested in?"

"Oh, I'm captain of a trading vessel. We docked a little while ago." Torrog's brow darkened at the thought of that whole episode, but cleared again as he looked at the Ferengi he could relate to much better. "I've always dealt in technical things, but you're the expert here on the base. While your barge makes its rounds, why don't you tell me what you think about opportunities in this place. I'm interested in all profits ... as long as it's legal, of course." It occurred to him that perhaps there was a way to get what he wanted and laugh in the face of that Captain of the Port.

"Technical things." Trav thought a moment. "Well, there's a little shop called Bits and Bytes in the River Village, which deals in tech gadgets. They might want to talk to you, depending on what you've got. There's also a few repair places scattered throughout the station, like The Fix-It Station, which is older and well established, and the new one, Durant Repair Services. Durant's people are mobile and go to their customers' homes or businesses to work on things; Fix-It customers bring work to their shop.

"There's also a casino that might need some things, several civilian hospitals and power plants. In fact--" Trav leaned in a little closer to Torrog, "--in the lower decks of this station is an area called Brown Sector. Those people need all sorts of things. Problem is, you'd have to make special arrangements with most of them about payment. They live there because they can't afford to live higher up on the base--though there are a few who prefer living away from Starfleet's eyes. If you want to stay legal, though, you should avoid that area. Most of the potential for profit is low, and where it's high, it's dangerous. You might be able to find workers there, though."

Captain Torrog grinned in satisfaction, showing his teeth. "Excellent, excellent! This is just the kind of information I need. There will, of course, be a small finder's fee, should I do business with any of these places you've mentioned." That was only fair, and Torrog meant it. He simply didn't say just how small a fee it would be.

¹Pronounced So-VAH-tux. FTV stands for Ferengi Trade Vessel, a civilian cargo ship classification.

 

RSS Feed