Making Money
Posted on Mar 01, 2015 @ 3:06pm by Commander Jacob Crichton
Edited on on Mar 01, 2015 @ 3:06pm
Mission: Limbo
= Making Money =
(cont'd from "The Darkness That Binds")
LOCATION: Atria, LIMBO
SCENE: Forum
STARDATE: [2.15] 0226.1717
Russ was leaning against the railing of an upper tier, looking down at the crowds that bustled around the market below him. It was not unlike the markets on many other worlds and stations that Russ had seen in his time. They lived in a galaxy where matter could be replicated into almost any shape or composition, recreating just about any object or substance one might ever need. But then someone would set up a trader's tent or a vendor kiosk, and the crowds would come to shove and jostle and beg and barter.
Russ had decided long ago that it wasn't the merchandise that attracted them all like flies to honey. It was the *acquisition*. It was the need to find an itch so that you could pay someone else to scratch it. Even in this universe of plenty, there would always be those for who lived for the sake of the transaction itself.
Russ wrinkled his nose, decided that the markets smelled like desperation, and turned around to look for Jake. He spotted him emerging what looked like a dingy bathroom. Graffiti-covered doors slid shut behind him as he approached Russ.
"Did you wash your hands?" Russ asked.
"I checked in with Commander Jos," Jake said. "She's with Kass, they're on their way to the fighting pits to talk with some Orion fat-cat named Daheel."
"There are *fighting pits*?" Russ asked. He wondered how many people came up short in the Forum below them, only to be dragged off to the Pits to provide entertainment for the luckier ones. The acquisition might be their biggest thrill, but it was hardly their only one.
"I'm sure Kass will fit right in," Jake said. "But there's more. This Daheel character is apparently the biggest info broker on the station."
"So Commander Jos thinks he can point us to Selyara?"
"Well, they were thinking that fighting pits are a good place to start looking for Rawyvin Seth," said Jake. "But I told Aerdan what we were thinking. If they can get in good with Daheel, we might get a discount on what he knows about Selyara."
"Discount or not, we're gonna have to pay him *something*," Russ said.
"Maybe he'll let us pay in trade," Jake shrugged. "I hear you polish a mean shoe."
"By kicking smarmy engineers in the ass while wearing them," Russ said.
"So that means I can take half the credit," Jake smirked.
"Seriously, Jake, what's the plan here? It seemed like you had a plan earlier."
"Not much of one," Jake sighed, standing next to Russ to lean against the railing, looking down at the market below. "A lot of money changes hands in this place every few hours. Enough to buy somebody's whereabouts."
"So you want to steal it," Russ said.
"Not very Starfleet of me, I know," Jake said. "But they've already declared us criminals. We might as well act the part."
"Criminals don't care who they steal from, as a rule," Russ said.
"Like I said, not much of a plan," said Jake. "We could do it quick and easy. I could probably rig up something that hacks their networks when I get close enough to browse. I could drain someone's whole account while I'm smiling at them. But..."
"But then maybe they come up short on some other debt, and maybe they get dragged off to the fighting pits and fed to Thytos."
"Well, Kass wasn't *eating* them in my version, but yeah, that's pretty much my issue."
"So you don't go after the little fish," Russ said. "You go after someone who can afford it."
"One of the side-effects of money is paranoia," Jake said, scratching absent-mindedly at some carbon scoring that had formed on the railing. "The people who can afford to be stolen from can afford *not* to be stolen from."
"You couldn't bypass their security?"
"I probably could, eventually," Jake said. "But we're on the clock here. There's no telling how long it would take, and no guarantee I'd even get in."
"There's no better idea on the table," said Russ.
"But who's the mark?" Jake asked. "We can't go after Daheel, he's the one we need help from. The Ferengi hate the idea of 'credit', so any money they've got will likely be physical and locked behind a series of *very* thick doors. Anyone higher up the food chain is probably too dangerous to risk crossing."
"So we look for someone external," Russ said. "Some kind of traveling scumbag circus."
"Pirates?" Jake asked. "Don't we have enough people shooting at us already?"
"Hear me out," said Russ. "They come to a place like this to sell whatever they've stolen, right? So they'll have money, in one form or other. We either hit them when they move their goods, or maybe take them right off the ship. We keep a low profile, they don't know who hit them. It's not like they can shoot up the whole station looking for answers."
Jake frowned as he mulled it over. Below him, a pair of Klingons picked their way through the crowd, roughly shoulder-checking people who got in their way, manhandling merchants that wouldn't offer them a deal, and laughing boisterously at the people who cowered as they passed. They were dressed in patchwork clothes and armed with larger disruptor pistols and bat'leths slung across their backs. Jake didn't know if they were pirates, but they were clearly thugs, exactly the kind of people who could afford to lose a little money in the name of a good cause.
"Okay," Jake said finally. "I guess we're stealing pirate treasure then."
[/\]
Shawn Putnam
a.k.a.
Jake Crichton, Commander
Chief Engineering Officer
USS PHOENIX