“I don’t trust hoomans.”  Hoksta walked behind Captain Wren Walton with Lieutenant Grace Albright at his side.  “I know you only by reputation, Hooman Walton.”

Wren forced down a chuckle, “Is that good or bad?”  They turned a corner in the corridor to the shuttle bay.  Hoksta’s ship had arrived a half hour earlier.  He appeared like an older Ferengi, but he walked as if he was still a young man.

“There is a reason why I prefer the rimward end of hooman space. Less of you to worry about. Tholians and The Children of Tama are better at treating me well than your people.  And more profitable.”  He turned his attention to Albright, “That I am the one you called speaks for how much trouble you must be in.”

Walton stopped the group just before the final turn toward the shuttle bay. “You don’t have to like us, Hoksta. You can hate on the humans all you like and want—I’m sure you have your reasons.”

He waited a beat for her to continue.  When she didn’t, he asked, “Was there a question or request in there, hooman Walton?  I must have missed it.”

She tempered her nerves, “You are the only one around who’s not several weeks or more out who can give us a better idea of what we’re looking at and what we need to know.  We need your help.”

Hoksta turned to Albright, “Standard compensation, hooman Albright.”

She sighed and handed a PADD to Walton, who read the agreement and scoffed loudly, “You…cannot be serious.  This is excessive pricing, even for a Ferengi.”

He looked to both of them, eyebrows waggling as much as a Ferengi could, “Supply and demand.  Hooman Albright is used to my terms.  I am not cheap.  I’ve never been cheap.  I’ll never be cheap.”  He crossed his thick arms and shrugged, “You hoomans can always try your luck with whoever is on the next lowest deck below me…but I’ll warn you – you get what you pay for around here.”

Wren tossed the PADD back to Albright. “Payment on delivery of information.”  Hoksta shrugged his indifference. He was getting paid no matter what. She walked them around the corner and led the Ferengi to the glass viewing area. His eyes widened, and Wren handed him a PADD with the enhanced photos. “You seem surprised, Hoksta.”

His eyes widened further as he scrolled through the enhanced images. “That’s not a gift if that’s what you think it is.  That…that is something not even I would traffic in – no matter how much you paid me.”

It was Albright’s turn to scoff, “A Ferengi who won’t take money for a deal?  You’re the king of the hucksters, Hoksta.”  She was amused as he squinted his eyes at hearing the word and the worked to interpret the meaning.

He found it quickly, “I resent the implication.  I only traffic the highest quality materials and objects.  That,” he pointed with his gnarled fingers, “is a dark object with a dark history.”

Walton frowned, “You’re saying the Tholians believe in the supernatural?”

Hoksta replied, “The Tholians I’ve built my empire with, yes.  I haven’t been able to make much progress with the others.  As hooman Albright knows, the caste system is rigid and unyielding.  Thirty years ago, I found one of the lower groups willing to engage in business with me.  They’re on the far edges of the Assembly.  We’ve built a strong connection.  I’ve tried to break into the others.”

Wren shook her head in disbelief, “You are more an operative than a trader, Hoksta.  How did those attempts go?”

He scowled and grumbled at her, “Don’t dirty my name with such sullied language, hooman Walton.  I always pursue profit.  Always.  I have no interest in the…what do you hoomans call it – the game playing?”

Albright couldn’t hold back a smile, “It’s called playing the game, Hoksta.  We call it Intelligence.”

His scowl remained, “Whatever you hoomans call it, I don’t do it.  I respect the Tholians too much to attempt such a ridiculous venture.  As for what you’ve got in your shuttle bay…,”  he shook his head, “That’s a relic, or at least what they tell me is a relic.  Even after all this time, their language is hard to grasp.  As far as I know, many of those are floating around Tholian space – different caste groups possess them for various reasons.  Most of them are held in a tight grip as these relics have some benefit to them.”

Wren made her assumption known, “Most have some benefit.  I’m guessing this isn’t one of them.”

“Correct, hooman Walton.  Some of these are perceived to have a negative effect or even a curse.  You might use it to threaten another caste or a group within a caste.  Keep them in line or force them to do something lest they invoke the curse upon them and their fellow Tholians.”

The CO gestured to the photos on the PADD, “So, what do you know about this artifact?”

Hoksta returned to studying the photos as he spoke, “There is a legend…or a story about ‘The Cursed Child.’  This is one of the imperfect children born on the planet JaKaRes – where the cursed children were created and born against the will of many of the higher castes.  These children had qualities that made them unbecoming of a true Tholian.  That threatened the very foundation of their species.  At least, that’s how the story goes.  You know how these tales go – they get told enough, and eventually, the truth is thrown out in favor of something more exciting and thrilling.”

Walton wondered, “I don’t suppose they said what those qualities were?”

He laughed, “Getting them to reveal that much of their stories has taken most of the thirty years.  This caste group has been more willing to share over the last ten years.  I suspect they’ve become tired of those above them and no longer care about protecting the Assembly.  It has made me more profitable, so I do not argue.”

Albright was taking copious notes on her PADD and glanced up, nervous for Hoksta, “You don’t think they’ll eventually get caught?”

“The mysteries of the Tholian Assembly and its daily, inner, and overall workings remain a mystery to even me, hooman Albright.  I make money from their wares, and they allow me to travel in their space.  As the hooman expression used to go, I do not look a gift horse in the mouth.  I take what I can get.  Which is profit, in case you were wondering.”

Wren tapped her code into the PADD, transferring the payment to Hoksta.  “I admit…you earned it.  What do we do with the thing?”  Her attention had returned to the capsule.

Hoksta’s smile was wide as he verified that the payment had come through. “You shouldn’t keep it here, so close to the border. The Tholians are bound to wonder why you’ve not taken it away, given that I’ve been here. They’ll expect you to act with the information I provided. I would find an abandoned planet somewhere and open it. I don’t honestly know what is in there, and I wouldn’t want anything nearby to be harmed.  I’d like to keep making money off you hoomans – on your ships or station.”

Wren watched Albright make the final note. She turned to Hoksta and said, “Thank you for your help.”  She couldn’t help but ask, “Why do you call us humans with our names attached? No ranks…nothing.”

His eyes turned serious as he packed up his things, “Ask Albright.  I grew tired of telling the story.”  With that, he stalked down the hallway and around the corner.

Walton turned to her diplomatic attache, “And?”

Grace winced.  The story had been harrowing to hear when he’d related to her.  “Before he came out here to wander the rimward, he was a pretty good trader in Federation space.  He was building a solid client base.  Then he looked at someone in Starfleet Security wrong.  Upset the wrong blowhard.  They went to work on him and his family.  They found some mild irregularities.  Blew it up.  They took a year of his life processing the case.  He was treated terribly.  He was eventually cleared of all charges and exonerated on paper, but the damage had been done.  No one would trust him.  No one would speak to him.  His family disowned him, and he fled here to find his way.  Hoksta is a survivor…and his way to exact his revenge on the Federation and Starfleet is to strip us of our titles and call us humans.”

Wren grimaced, “I can understand that.  You think if we call him again, he’ll show up?”

“If we pay his going rate.  What do we do with…that?”  She pointed to the capsule.

“We take it to an abandoned planet and set up an archeological operation.”

Albright mused, “We’re gonna need a bigger group of scientists.”

“That is why a squadron exists.  I’ll make a call.  Find us a desolate planet.  We’ve got a mystery to solve.”