Password: Dirty Martian

Posted on Sun 23rd Nov, 2025 @ 12:35pm by Criswell Sandbags & Renato Solis

1,217 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: From The Ashes
Location: Orchids & Jazz
Timeline: current

-Start-

{Orchids & Jazz}

Renato sat within view of the bar, watching Criswell, who up to this point had not looked in Renato's direction. Like Renato, Criswell was an observer, a watcher. The crush of people made surveillance or eavesdropping nearly impossible to Renato, but Criswell's Ferengi upbringing had trained his ears to focus on several conversations at once. Table three had been the most interesting that night. The man's date had ordered Filet Mignon, and was clearly going to dump her date after he paid for it. The little girl at table seven wasn't happy with the chicken fingers she had ordered while table ten had been waiting for a date for the last hour, based on his suit, scowl, and amount of empty martini glasses.

Renato wore a large coat that covered over most of his body. When a waiter came to his table, Renato ordered a Dirty Martian, a non existent drink the waiter took without flinching and walked away with. Criswell was amused by the name of the drink. The false order was, of course, a signal from Renato.

After a moment, Criswell glanced in Renato's direction, giving an imperceptible nod signaling the message was received, plus a small hand signal, one of several they'd created together to signify certain things, in this case a location.

Just like that, the meeting was set, it was always for one hour post contact. Taking a second more to build credulity, Renato almost stood to leave before his waiter lowered an Orange Juice with muddled protein powder and vodka swirled in.

“3 strips.” The waiter was dead serious.

Renato knew better than to make a scene. For once, he had the money on him to pay for a drink and paid the man 3 strips and a coin for gratuity. He left the foamy thing to die on the table and made his way to the door.

-1 hour Later-

{Airlock terminal}

He sat at the bustling bottleneck, subconsciously counting people coming and going. Renato waited for the time to elapse impatient, but still just grateful to be back on the station.

From behind, approaching without any sound, Criswell said, "I'll have to remember to add the Dirty Martian to our menu."

Renato was till sucking grit off his teeth, "I would recommend stirring maybe, but you've got a great house Vodka. How are things Criswell?"

The banter was important, like a diagnostic for people via conversation.

"Blessed with profits," Criswell said. "Orchids and Jazz has been doing very well since its reopening, with a whopping forty-percent jump in profit return in just over a week! Qaraq's other business ventures are very lucrative! In his casino, we started a new algorithm that will monitor..." he stopped talking, catching himself. The small talk was always the hardest part for him. "Um, I mean, things are very good. Um, how are you?"

Renato smiled, Criswell's Ferengi heritage was always charming when couched with human enthusiasm. "I am doing well, my trial was... non determinative of my asylum status so I return to my usual place almost as though nothing ever happened. Except now I have my sister living with me. I will need to introduce you two she has a gift for honest bookkeeping just like you do." The subtle wink could have been a twitch for its here and gone swiftness.

As he spoke he pulled a padd, and on the display was a collage of photographic evidence. "I have a friend looking for items, and you've spoken to someone with this in their inventory. You didnt know it at the time, maybe they dont even know it, but the "thing" here is worth a small moon. But it belongs to my client, and getting it back means more than profit, its life or death. I know its a serious ask, and you know I'm not bluffing you."

Criswell accepted the PADD from Renato and examined the item. "It looks like an antique Terran stylus," he said. "Strange. What pen is worth a small moon? Why does your friend want it back?"

With a shrug, Renato answered "His words, and a grand mystery I'm sure. I'll buy you a slippery Venusian and regale you once I find out. Can you arrange a meet, but not for this item specifically. We just need him to bring his whole inventory. There are a few other items listed we can buy to cover it up, but its imperative we do not highlight this item or the asking price could become unattainable.... through normal routes. My client will reimburse costs plus fees, and you can retain the merchandise for additional resale profits. Is this something we can do?"

"Um, perhaps," Criswell said. "Who is your friend, and who has the item?"

"My friend is someone you know but has asked to remain anonymous for safety reasons. I can caution you this item may already be under scrutiny, but Pel Hgyn of the Rigelian tradeship "Great Fortune" is the guy we need. Either we buy it directly or as part of a larger lot. That's where your lobes are needed Criswell, this can't go wrong that item is a tool and it is needed by its owner understand?"

Criswell grabbed his earlobe at that moment, his eyes widening as if in panic. "I-I don't know where to get that kind of money! I mean, I'm sure Mr. Qaraq could afford it, but I don't think he'd approve."

Renato shook his head, "The stylus is listed at 2 strips GPL. but if we call and ask for it all by itself, they'll know its worth more feel me? So I have four bars GPL, as a budget to buy as much as possible, including the stylus without tipping our hand about it. If we go over the client said they'll pay as much as it takes, but let's not let it get to that point?"

Criswell nodded vigorously. "I understand. Will four GPL be enough? What kinds of extra items were you thinking to buy?"

Renato grinned as they rounded third to home on this conversation, "And now you see why I need the Ferengi. I leave it up to you, and those items are yours to keep, courtesy of the client. Payment for your services will be determined from the leftover budget so your payout is up to you. The "Great Fortune" carries more than a thousand kilotons of sundry materials, whatever they have you want works for us, just so long as that stylus comes home."

"I see," Criswell said, rubbing his hands together, a Ferengi behavior so obvious it would be an awful tell in poker. "Renato, I think we have a deal!"

He smiled at Criswell, "I am pleased, the client will be too. This is a matter of importance, we are both kept in the dark for a reason, but the money is real. Thank you, and pass my thanks to Qaraq as well. His investments into the Garden Sector will soon return a profit please let him know."

"Um," Criswell stammered. "I think Mr. Qaraq will be happy to hear that, as long as he doesn't know how."

Renato smiled, and moved to step away, "I think Mr. Qaraq is as comfortable not knowing as is, I'll be in touch."

-End-

 

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