History For Sale

Auction Room 

This room is roughly the size of a football pitch, but much of the floorspace, especially to the rear of the room, is taken up by antique furniture, paintings, and other auction items. In the front, a number of chairs have been arranged in front of a podium with the auctioneer's gavel, and a wide space where the item currently up for auction can be displayed. Specialist stewards move around busily, answering questions and moving items to the front for their auction. The floor is covered in a plush green carpet, and the walls are painted a neutral creme with white mouldings.

Sat Feb 08 10:52:59 3003 Sivad's sun, Ikeopo, begins its ascent through the tropical skies above Regreb Bay. +LHELP Available Contents: Exits: Entrepreneur Ochremane   Lobby

Pelletier is behind a podium, speaking quietly with one of the auction house workers.

Ochremane steps into the auction room and pauses by the entrance. The Demarian takes a long look around, seeming to take in every detail before he moves toward the front and the seats. He chooses a seat as clost to the back and the eit as possible.

Knuckles thumps into the auction house. His snout swivels as he studies the surroundings. He pushes his way brusquely through the crowd, bumping dignified citizens around until he finds a trio of empty seats near the back. He drops into the middle of them.

Ochremane has already taken a seat near the back as well. He waits patiently for the auction to begin. Occasionally, he'll cast a glance around the room.

Pelletier furrows his brow, nodding to the auction worker. "Remove that lot from the roster," the auctioneer sniffs haughtily. "Otherby's will not be a party to that man's fraud." The worker nods, takes back the PDA, and then heads backstage.

Yevgeni walks into the auction house, looking about with some interest at assorted items, but he does not seem to submit to the interest, taking a few steps in, ignoring a couple items.

Tarkovsky enters, just a pace or two behind Yevgeni. The other lots don't seem to get more than a cursory glance from her - now that they've arrived at the auction room her demeanor is much more serious than it was before.

Pelletier turns from the worker, then lifts his chin as he grasps either side of the podium and gazes out at the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to announce that the so-called vintage Vanguard-issue Tekshot sniper pulse rifle, bearing the maker's mark from 2650 and purported to be the same weapon used to assassinate Laurence Montevedo in 2651, is a forgery. Therefore, we will *not* be offering it on the block this evening."

Yevgeni looks up to Pelletier, then remarks to Tarkovsky, "I am sure that is to leave a few disappointed... I do hope the cryotube is legitimate though."

Tarkovsky nods a little. "You're interested in purchasing that, are you?" she asks quietly. "I hadn't really considered anything other than the ship." She tucks her hands into her jacket and looks up to the podium, studying the man there.

"Everyone wants the ship... and I never was the one to buy used ships if I could help it." Yevgeni observes quietly, "No, this has more historical value than anything else."

"Our first item, Lot 1, is - as far as we have been able to discern at this point, through carbon dating and other methods, is this," Pelletier goes on, gesturing as a turntable-wall rotates to reveal a battered metal cylinder with a hatch and window built into it, with the scuffed symbol reading BRIGHT HORIZONS. "A 27th Century cryogenic maturation cylinder, used in the controversial Bright Horizons genetics laboratory by Doctor James Eddings. Our bidding starts at 25,000 yojj-sterling."

Yevgeni raises a hand to bid, "Twenty-five thousand..."

Pelletier nods, pointing to Yevgeni. "Twenty-five thousand. Do I hear thirty-thousand?"

Knuckles raises a stumped arm, growling: "Knuckles hear thirty-thousand!"

"Thirty-five..." Yevgeni says.

"Interesting," Christine murmurs in response, looking up at Yevgeni. "Thinking of starting a museum now?" She's joking a little, despite her sombre mood, then she falls silent and listens to the bids coming in.

Pelletier lifts his eyebrows, then looks back to Yevgeni. Then back to the Zangali.

Knuckles gnashes his fangs and flexes his rill in frustration at the increased bid. His stumped arm goes up again. "Knuckles hear forty-thousand!"

Yevgeni looks over to Knuckles, then back to Christine, then he raises a hand, "Fifty thousand."

The Zangali stands, thumps his broad chest and bellows: "Knuckles hear fify-leven thousand!"

"Whatever that means..." Yevgeni asides to Christine, "Value such as that is only worth so much."

Pelletier clears his throat and smiles politely. "Fifty-leven? Perhaps you misstated, sir. The bidding currently stands at fifty thousand. There is no fifty-leven."

Tarkovsky looks across to Knuckles and frowns a little. "I wonder who the Zangali is bidding on behalf of?" she asks of Yevgeni, keeping her voice low so as not to carry. "I wouldn't imagine he could be interested on his own behalf, surely?"

Knuckles gnashes his fangs, takes out a PDA and stares at the screen for a moment before raising his stumped arm: "Sick-ty thousand!"

Yevgeni looks over, and slips in to Mierznykovy a bit, or the semi-archaic version he tends to speak,  keeping his voice low, however.

Ochremane listens to the bids, but continues to remain silent. He does look over to Knuckles, however and speak to him, also loud enough for Pelletier to hear, "Sixty thousand," he clarifies for the Zangali.

"Sixty five thousand..." Yevgeni says.

Pelletier nods, then looks back at the Zangali, anticipating.

Knuckles refers to his datapad. Huffs. His nictitating eyes settle briefly on Yevgeni, and then he sits with a heavy thump.

Tarkovsky smiles a touch, replying to Yevgeni in the same language. "gorg agrun myork" she murmurs softly. "ugh gorg agrun erumuten por agrun agrun shorshk por erumuten blug-blug por agrun blug-blug ousuie agrun yargh nyetski agrun"

"Sold!" the auctioneer announces. "For 65,000 yojj-sterling." He looks toward Yevgeni. "Pay before you leave, and provide us with an address for proper delivery. Shipping is an additional 100 yojj-sterling."

Yevgeni looks over again, "I have a theory now, but it is best not discussed here." Yevgeni looks up, offering a slight nod.

Tarkovsky nods to Yevgeni, offering no further comment for now. She looks back to the auctioneer, anticipating announcement of the next lot.

"One must be curious as to what the next lot is..." Yevgeni remarks.

The turntable-wall rotates to display the Otherby's logo and shield as Pelletier grips the podium again. "Our only other lot this evening, Lot 2, is a modified Wasp-class scout vessel called the Minerva. This was the first vessel to travel the multiverse nexus discovered near Nocturn after the Kamir-Ri'Kammi Conflict of 3001 and was instrumental in the rescue of the exiled Nall Vox during the recent Moebius Effect crisis. We will start the bidding at 50,000 yojj-sterling." The wall rotates to reveal a scale model of the ship.

Knuckles raises a stumped arm. "Fifty thousand!"

Tarkovsky waits a moment, looking across the room for other bidders.

Ochremane twitches his whiskers as he turns his attention from Pelletier to the scale model. He looks to Knuckles for a moment then back to the auctioneer. "Sixty," he bids.

Yevgeni looks over to Christine, "Did you have anything you intended to bid on?" he asks.

"Mostly I came to observe," Christine replies, considering the Demarian bidder. "But you never know."

"Sixty thousand," the auctioneer says. "Do I hear sixty-five?"

Knuckles stands again, growling: "Knuckles hear sixty-five!"

"Seventy," the Demarian returns.

Knuckles stares darkly at the Demarian, fangs clicking together before he swings his snout back toward Pelletier. "Seventy-leven!"

Pelletier coughs. "Ah. Yes, as to that, neither is seventy-leven, in truth, a number."

"Ah..." Yevgeni says, "I honestly do not want some ship like that though... I will have my own built if I want."

Tarkovsky glances up at Yevgeni and smiles. "And I own a ship-builder," she says quietly, with a shrug. "This could get interesting though, if those two are who I think they are."

Knuckles consults his PDA again. His rill flattens and then he raises his stumped arm. "Knuckles hear ninny-thousand!"

Pelletier smiles faintly. "Ninny..." He shakes his head, then looks toward Ochremane. "The bid is ninny...I mean, ninety thousand."

Ochremane wonders just how high the Zangali can count. He shows Knuckles a glimpse of his own fangs before turning back to Pelletier. "One-hundred thousand," he says.

"And soon I will have enough of a shipyard to build with." Yevgeni smiles, "It would have been interesting to see a business agreement in that realm recently."

Knuckles snarls at Ochremane. He waves his PDA in the air. "Knuckles hear TWO-hundred thousand!"

Pelletier blinks. "Two hundred thousand...yes. The bid is now two hundred thousand."

Ochremane doesn't flinch. "Five-hundred thousand."

Knuckles gnashes his fangs. "SIX-hundred thousand!"

Tarkovsky relaxes into a more comfortable stance, smiling more naturally now as the bidding war hots up. "Excellent," she murmurs, her gaze flicking between the Demarian and Zangali, with the occasional glance at the auctioneer.

"The bidding is at six hundred thousand," Pelletier observes. "Remember, this is money for a trust fund for the child of Marcus Harris, who died tragically aboard the Minerva."

Ochremane hesitates a moment, glancing at the Zangali before bidding again, "Seven-hundred and fifty."

"A few million is not terribly much..." Yevgeni remarks, "When it comes to thinking about it, still, it is not something to throw about either."

"Seven-hundred and fifty-leven!" the Zangali roars. "Knuckles hear SEVEN-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-LEVEN!"

"It's more than most people will ever earn in their lifetimes," Christine points out to Yevgeni. "And really, exactly what I'd hoped. Leanna will never have to struggle, never want, and Jasra won't have any hardships bringing her up." She pauses thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should visit her."

Pelletier smiles politely at the Zangali in the back of the room. "Again, sir, there is no such number as fifty-leven. Perhaps you wish to bid seven-hundred and sixty?"

"Knuckles know what Knuckles wish!" the Zangali snarls at the auctioneer. "Knuckles hear...one MILLION!"

"That man she is with is one of those excessively militant Lunites... no hardships, just an impractical idealology." Yevgeni says, "Then again, I am used to viewing credits in term of government budgets as well."

Ochremane sighs, but more at Pelletier at suggesting to bid with such a small increment. When the Zangali bids again, however, he smiles. "One million, two-hundred and fifty thousand." He looks back to the Zangali. "We're not bidding in credits remember," he mutters.

Tarkovsky raises an eyebrow. "Maybe I should visit then... just have a talk. I was going to put in a custody bid myself, until I found out she already had legal guardians. Viola was perhaps wise in arranging that before she headed to Earth."

"The bidding stands at one million, two hundred and fifty thousand," Pelletier observes.

"We may only hope she does well... but I already made my charitable donation." Yevgeni remarks.

The Zangali's rill flexes upward and he snarls again at the Demarian before telling the auctioneer: "Knuckles hear one million, two hundred and fifty-leven!"

Ochremane sighs.

The auctioneer, now apparently losing his patience for the Zangali, does not bother to correct him. "One million, two hundred and fifty thousand, going once..."

Tarkovsky nods, her smile brightening again as the bidding climbs. "I was thinking I would push up the price if the bidding was slack but," she shakes her head slowly, "This has risen somewhat out of my price range."

Knuckles flicks his eye membranes, his toothy jaw dropping open and his rill flattening as he realizes he has been summarily ignored. He waves the PDA in the air again: "Knuckles hear one million, two hundred and fifty-LEVEN!"

Ochremane tries to sneak a peek at the PDA

"I sense something rather bad might be occurring soon..." Yevgeni says, calmly, "An indignant Zangali is never a good thing."

"Going twice," the auctioneer continues.

Knuckles slams the PDA against his chest - it sends sparks and plastic bits flying. "KNUCKLES HEAR ONE MILLION, TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY-LEVEN!!!!"

Well, now Ochremane can't see anything. His furr ripples and is ears lay flat against his head. He slowly starts to move away from the Zangali for good - hell, great - measure.

Pelletier casually presses a button beneath the angled surface of the podium, then smiles faintly and announces: "Sold, to the Demarian, for one million, two hundred and fifty thousand yojj sterling. Please provide us with a shipping address, and be sure to include a delivery fee of 25,000 yojj sterling."

"Indeed, a hasty exit might be indicated," Christine agrees, though there's amusement in her eyes as she watches the Zangali. "Excellent," she says again as the ship is sold to the Demarian. She begins to head towards Ochremane, keeping an eye on Knuckles, though.

Yevgeni nods, "I have to make my payment yet..." Yevgeni says, "But I am sure I could explain everything in a bit if you wanted?"

Knuckles roars, infuriated, as he is defeated in the bidding. He swings around, claws flashing on his good hand as he begins to thump toward Ochremane. And that's about the time a couple of SHIELD officers step in from doors in the back of the room, take aim with their tranquilizer rifles, and fire their darts into the thick skin of the Zangali's back. FPPP! FPPP! He takes a couple more steps. FPPP! FPPP! And stumbles, knocking over a few chairs, but then rights himself. FPPP! FPPP! Lunges toward Ochremane, and then collapses into the lap of an obese Sivadian woman who gasps in agony at the weight of him.

"Hmmm." Christine stops dead, observing seriously as the Zangali is taken down. "Yes, I'll catch you in a moment," she calls back to Yevgeni, then pushes onward towards the Demarian. "Excuse me," she says to him as she nears. "Ochremane Starleaper isn't it?"

Yevgeni nods, then goes up, taking out a credstick as he nears to pay for the cryotube.

Pelletier remains at the podium, awaiting Ochremane's arrival to pay for the Minerva. He nods to Yevgeni. "Your purchase will be delivered to the address you provide within 72 hours."

Ochremane hasn't been paying much attention to the auctioneer, so he doesn't really know he got the ship. His attention has been solely on the Zangali. But as Knuckles goes into a berserker rage, he can pretty much put it all together. He spins around to face his would-be attacker, and gets into a defensive posture. But as he watch the Zangali fall, his posture relaxes considerably. He stands straight and gets his bearings before finding Christine, "Uhh, hello, yes. I'm Ochremane."

"I trust this applies to Sivadian deliveries only?" Yevgeni inquires.

"Do you wish it to be shipped offworld?" Pelletier inquires.

Ochremane starts to slowly head over to Pelletier, but his attention is still taken by Christine. "Yes. Sanctuary. Just a moment please," he requests of Pelletier.

"You would not do deliveries to La Terre would you?" Yevgeni asks next.

Pelletier smiles at Yevgeni. "For an additional 2,000 yojj sterling, we can ship the item to La Terre."

Tarkovsky smiles to Ochremane. "Christine Tarkovsky," she says by way of introduction. "I'd just like to thank you for being willing to make such a generous bid. I don't know your reasons of course, and I won't ask - but I'm very pleased to see such a healthy sum for Leanna's future. I... knew her father. So." She shrugs awkwardly. "Thank you. And thankyou for out-bidding the Zangali as well," she adds.

"Hmm... deliver it to one seven eight south Montevado street then..." Yevgeni says.

The SHIELD officers move in to pull the unconscious Zangali - the unconscious *drooling* Zangali - off the fat Sivadian woman, who is now weeping at the damage done to her floral print dress. Silk, from the look of it. They drag Knuckles away, their faces turning beet red from the exertion.

Pelletier nods to Yevgeni. "Otherby's will see to it. Thank you for your bid, sir."

"Of course..." Yevgeni says after a moment.

Ochremane smiles warmly to Christine and dips his head in a bow. "I met Leanne's parents once. I would have liked to acquire this vessel under better circumstances, but of course there would have been none. I am just glad the little one will have a bright future with loving people. I have three little ones myself." Then he turns to Pelletier, "I will return with the payment in a moment. I don't carry that much on me I'm afraid."

Pelletier raises a slender finger. "Leave a security deposit, if you would."

Yevgeni turns about now that the paying bit is done, looking into the remaining bits of crowd a bit, then over to the Zangali, then back.

"I never met Viola," Christine answers, returning the Demarian's warm smile. "But Mark... he saved my life. I know he had his faults, but... he didn't deserve what happened. And Leanne certainly doesn't." She glances to the auctioneer and then back to Ochremane after the discussion of money. "Perhaps a straight bank transfer would be easier?" she suggests. "It is a rather large sum for cash."

Ochremane smiles uncomfortably and chuckles at Pelletier, though he hardly tries to amuse the man. "I didn't come very prepared. I would have brought an aid. I have 250 Yojj-sterling and 700 credits. Oh, also my PDA. That's valuable to me."

Pelletier grimaces, offering a rather indignant glare at the Demarian. "You came to Otherby's to bid on a starship with such meager funds?" He looks after the officers dragging the Zangali away. "Perhaps they sedated the wrong deluded bidder."

"You can surely accept a bank transfer to a suitable account?" Christine asks the auctioneer, her eyebrow quirking into a surprised arch.

Yevgeni makes his way back now, a couple small steps along.

Pelletier rolls his eyes. "I will wait here. I suppose it matters little if you decide to leave the planet without paying for the vessel. I *do* know the Zangali was quite interested in making the purchase. So, for now, I shall waive the deposit requirement."

Ochremane's smile disappears and he looks to Christine then back to Pelletier. "Yes. He did seem quite interested. That's what worries me. Well, it's his fault not mine. Anyway," he starts to head out. "Thank-you and I will return in a moment." He gives a playful salute to the pair and rushes out of the auction house.

Yevgeni makes his way back by Christine as Ochremane makes his way out for now, "I suppose this was interesting enough..." he remarks, not overly loud, once again.

"I'd have thought a great Sivadian auction house would have more sophiscated payment options than... cash only," Christine remarks to Yevgeni as he returns. "It's positively archaic."

Ochremane returns and heads to the front, looking about for the Zangali most of all.

The Zangali has been hauled out of the room, into the lobby, and is being guarded by the officers while he slumbers.

Yevgeni is standing by Christine now, "Some never realize that there are too many things that fall into the realm of archaic... not all of them bad, but not all are good either."

Tarkovsky nods a little. "But honestly, for such a sum? It's ridiculous." She shrugs and sighs. "Ah well, I suppose it must work for them since they are still in business."

"Credsticks make it possible, yes... but still, I try not to touch that much at once." Yevgeni shrugs a bit, "And I doubt I will be seeing this place again for a good deal of time, only some of these occassions attract my attention much."

Ochremane comes into the auction house and heads for Pelletier and the group. He says, "Thank-you for your patience. Here's 1,275,250 yojj-sterling. Here's an extra 250 for your kindness." He hands the payment over.

Outside, the Zangali begins to stir, grumbling as his eyes flick open and he sits upright, swinging his snout toward the auction house. One of the officers, without missing a beat, lifts the rifle in his hand and fires off two quick FPP!s. Down goes the Zangali.

Pelletier nods to the Demarian. "Very good, sir. Where shall we make delivery?"

"Sanctuary please," Ochremane replies. "And I do think I shall make a hasty retreat given the circumstances." With that, he bids a farewell to all gathered and prepares to exit but waits for any final words from Pelletier.

"As you wish, sir," Pelletier smiles, nodding. "Good day to you."

Tarkovsky waves a hand to Ochremane as he departs. "Nice to have met you," she calls after him. Tarkovsky turns back to Yevgeni then. "Yes, that's true. If I were a mugger, I'd know where to lie in wait, though." She shakes her head a touch. "Are you heading straight back to La Terre?"

Yevgeni watches as the Demarian leaves, "Good day..." he offers. Then he considers, "I am sure I could arrange to stay here for a bit if you wanted." he offers.

Ochremane smiles to Tarkovsky and smiles, "Likewise." He suddenly remembers something and moves back to Pelletier. "Oh, I do trust that anything I need take ownership can be sent to my PDA? Or whatever arrangements are necessary?"

Pelletier nods. "We will see to it, sir."

"Right. My address is #19740. Thank-you. Good night," Ochremane bids for the final time. And he means it this time. With a breath of relief, the Demarian makes his hasty retre- err exit.