Location: Free Station Pharos
Aliens: Rivan, Human, Yorm
“They’re here,” Bahn says to me, breathless. He’s gripping the doorway to my office like he might get sucked out into space. I’ve never known Rivans to be easy to read, but he’d be sweating bullets, if he had sweat glands that is.
“Take a breath,” I say, standing up. I hug him close and kiss his forehead. His big eyes droop shut and his breath comes in a big, heaving sigh. “We’ll knock ‘em dead,” I say.
“I certainly hope not!” he says, his eyes wide in shock again.
“It’s an expression,” I say and gently move him out of my way. The Yorm delegates are waiting in the showroom. I’ve shuttered the windows and labeled the store “Closed for a private engagement”. That’ll get them talking over at Babel bar, I’m sure. There’s some racket coming from their side of the station. That damned piano.
“If we don’t make a sale,” Bahn says, starting to panic again, “we won’t be able to pay rent.” I know he’s right, but he’s going to jinx us. So I kiss him to shut him up. I give him a wink and part the curtain. Showtime.
“Your Excellences,” I say, hiding my face in reverence. One of them snorts in what I’m guessing is a laugh.
“Look at it,” a deep voice says with malicious glee. “Don’t pretend to know our ways, human,” they say. I reveal my face, firmly placing my salesman mask over my aggravation.
“Luro,” the other says, scolding. “Pardon my partner’s poor manners. They don’t get off the homeworld very often.” The other Yorm shrugs their enormous shoulders and the jewels set in their craggy hide gleam in the light. “Please, call me Alma,” the more polite one says, extending their three-fingered hand out at me. It swallows mine whole, but there’s a surprising tenderness in the polite shake.
“Handshakes, huh?” I say, a nervous chuckle escaping me.
“We are well versed in many customs,” Alma says, a polite brag. Their whole body emits a tinkling sound as the trinkets draped over and around their limbs brush against one another. Like extremely gaudy windchimes. My trained eye counts no less than a dozen precious metals and stones. “We even know over fifty languages each,” Alma continues. I look completely flabbergasted and repeat the number back to them in disbelief. If the station’s database was even half right, I know Yorm are especially weak to flattery. Even more than humans, which I have a hard time believing.
“And we can see through lies in just as many,” Luro says, narrowing their eyes. Their nose, two vertical slits, expand as they sniff the air. “Where are the stones?” they ask. They stare down at me through the picket fence of tusks jutting up from their lower jaw.
“Our gems are located here,” I say, moving over to a display case.
“You know what stones they mean,” Alma says sweetly, but it makes me sweat. “I hope we haven’t wasted our time,” they say, walking over to the case. They barely glance over the gems. I can’t blame them, my collection pales in comparison to what Alma has on their left arm alone.
“May I ask a - well, maybe it’s an insensitive question,” I say, waving it away.
“Please, be our guest,” Luro says flatly, but I can tell I’ve got them reeled in, even slightly. Apparently, the only thing Yorm love to talk about more than valuables is themselves.
“Does it hurt?” I say, hovering a hand over a bright red stone centered on the back of Alma’s hand. They say I can touch it if I wish. I do so, very gingerly. Their skin is tough, like I thought, but the gem is firmly embedded.
“It’s not so bad,” Alma says. “Not everyone is as fortunate as us. Some don’t have a single scrap of silver or titanium to call their own.”
“The stones,” Luro says and I smile kindly.
“Very well, you’ve got me,” I say. “Clever little devils, you,” I say. “But this must be our secret,” I whisper. I can feel them tense in anticipation. I ask them to wait one moment.
“How’s it going? You’re all over the place,” Bahn says when I step behind the curtain to the back area. I peek back out to the showroom and see Luro holding a diamond up to the light. They sniff it suspiciously and laugh to themselves. “Here,” Bahn says, handing me the jet black box. I had him go and buy a locking box that required biometrics to open. Pageantry as my mother always said. “Well? Go! They’re waiting,” Bahn says.
“Hold it,” I say, straightening his suit. “I’m going to let them dangle on the line for just a minute.” Of course I’m getting a little added fun from making him squirm too. The two Yorm lumber from case to case, delicately picking up pieces of gold and turning them in the light. “Okay, wish me luck,” I say, kissing him. “Here we are, my esteemed delegates,” I say, placing the box down. I rest my thumb on the top of the box. It tells me biometrics accepted. I hold the box up to my right eye. It tells me biometrics accepted. I dab a finger onto my tongue and run it along the top. The box says the biometrics are accepted and opens with just the softest click. Luro and Alma almost jump, they’re so excited to see.
I open the box the rest of the way and step aside, letting them inspect the contents. Inside are three stones, a deep purple and white quartz, an emerald and a citrine. Alma looks to me with disbelief and I shrug, ever so humble. They pick up the quartz and let it roll around in their palm. “Real Igneon crystals,” they say softly.
“Yes, my highness,” I say. “Fairly given, might I add,” I say, holding up both hands. Of course the trading of Igneon stones is incredibly illegal in most circumstances. They don’t regenerate. Igneous have been known to be murdered and busted up to be sold piece by piece. Nasty stuff. The three stones in the box are like me selling human kidneys. Well, maybe more like appendixes. The Igneons I got them from didn’t seem to miss them very much. I was incredibly lucky to find a crew who were all a bit down on their luck. Enough money to get them back home, and the stones were mine. But the Yorm don’t need to know that.
“We’ll take them all,” Luro says, losing their frigid exterior.
“Are you certain?” I ask with great concern. “That is a rather expensive bill!”
“We’ve got it,” Luro says, the cold back in their tone.
“I”m certain the Yorm royalty will greatly appreciate your contribution,” I say.
“Well,” Alma says, lingering on the emerald. “It is a pity you only had the one for us to take back,” they say. We all share smiles. One for each of them, and one for the Yorm emperor. As long as I got my money, I didn’t particularly care. Although I could only dream of what the emperor looked like if these two local delegates were any indication. Maybe a worthwhile vacation.
The money trades hands and they leave in a hurry, maybe afraid I’ll change my mind. Bahn nearly faints when I show him our new balance. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep the rent paid,” I say, the Yorm “humility” rubbing off on me already.
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