There had been extravagant art, rare relics of fallen civilisations, and, just that morning, weapons caches that could transform a small, local war. But as the holographic display behind Nank shimmered to life to show the next object on the docket, the room grew silent. For some, it was confusion at the inauspicious appearance of this metal capsule. Others, boredom as the bidding reached esoteric objects of scientific curiosity they thought they could neither use nor easily sell. But for a select few, especially those seated in the curved chairs in the front rows, clutching the silver bidding devices, it was tension. Apprehension. Anticipation.

‘I’m a man of principles,’ said Nank, and it spoke of the tremendous power he held that nobody laughed. ‘If you don’t know what this latest exhibit is… then not only do you not deserve to have it. You’re not responsible enough to have it. Good folk of the galaxy, our next lot… the Kairos Regulator.’

In the hush of whispers, Aryn leaned over the back of the chair to murmur to Rosewood and Q’ira. ‘Doesn’t he want to tell people what it is? Won’t that make them more likely to buy it?’

‘Probably helps him keep faith with more exclusive collectors if he doesn’t encourage every random rubber-necker,’ Rosewood mused.

‘Also, some people will pay more for the mystery,’ said Q’ira.

Then it began.

Rosewood kept his posture relaxed, belying the thundering of his heart. A quick glance about the room confirmed Aestri in position, eyes locked on her device, cold and calculating and with no indication she thought anything was wrong. The cold fizz of anxiety crept into his chest – what if the device didn’t work? What if Tiran hadn’t succeeded? She’d given the signal, and he’d no reason to doubt her, the calmest and most professional of the team, but he’d not seen her anywhere near Aestri to plant their sabotaging trick.

But worrying about that was a distraction. Now, he had to do his job. Aryn stood over him, eyes sweeping the crowd nervously. Q’ira, in contrast, was stretched out beside him in the chair, making a big show of her disinterest as the man she’d been paraded around on the arm of bid on some esoteric, mysterious object.

Rosewood’s device hummed in his hand as the auction began, and he saw numbers already flow in on the screen of his rivals’ bids. He put in his own, sneaking over Aestri’s opening with little hesitation. Figures that made even his pampered Federation background – moneyless though it was – squeal in his head began to climb as competitors in the room tested each other, measuring, probing their resolve. And, as he watched, Aestri’s bids began to creep up by less and less effective increments, falling behind.

‘Her device is sending her bad info,’ Q’ira whispered to Rosewood as she pretended to brush imaginary dust off his shoulders. ‘She’s too slow, too low, but she thinks she’s ahead. Let her think that.’

He didn’t dare so much as nod. There was a long way to go, but he was ahead, competitors already beginning to fade away.

Then a new bid flashed on his screen that nearly made him choke. Behind him, Aryn did.

‘How much?’ the scientist gasped, leaning over.

‘Shut up,’ Rosewood hissed, but it was pointless to chastise such an open display of horror. If nothing else, a hushed whisper had spread across the room, and it was by the lack of reactions that he could spot the new bidder: a tall, thin man with slicked-back hair and a confident smirk who had just raised his device.

‘Who’s that?’ Rosewood muttered. ‘No edge, no sign of being a fighter, but he’s not spending his own money. That jacket’s expensive but not tailored.’ Everyone else here had some indication of pragmatic criminality, or oozed generations of wealth.

‘And you say I know about everything,’ Aryn muttered.

‘That’s Belaris.’ Q’ira had sat up, tone suddenly serious. ‘He’s a front for Ardent Holdings. Officially, he’s a high-class financial broker, but unofficially? A broker in the Federation for Ferengi gangs. He doesn’t care about the Regulator – he’s here to drive the price up. He’s not serious about keeping it.’

Rosewood frowned. ‘So he’s just trying to bait us into overbidding?’

She nodded. ‘If you bite too hard, he’ll walk away and leave you with an empty wallet.’

‘Do we care about that?’ Aryn wondered. ‘It’s not our wallet.’

‘I’m pushing our limits here,’ Rosewood hissed. ‘This goes much further and, unlike everyone else, we don’t have another account to funnel some cash in from and make up the difference later.’ His eyes settled on Belaris. ‘But we’ve got to try.’ His thumb flashed on a button to raise his bid, but a mere second later, Belaris exceeded him, and he hissed an oath.

‘If he buys it,’ said Q’ira, ‘he’ll sell it to the Ferengi. Not you. It’ll just shuffle around their internal economy. You’ve got to leave it a moment. Play it cool.’

‘Enough of this is about looking strong. Playing it cool sounds a lot like hesitating.’

Q’ira opened her mouth in protest, but it was Aryn who spoke, voice lower, calmer. ‘John, she knows these people. This isn’t a charity gala. This is the real thing.’

‘And what do you know?’ Rosewood muttered despite himself.

‘You said I know about everything. I know an expert when I see one.’

He caught Q’ira’s eyes flash up to Aryn, confused more than grateful, and Rosewood ground his teeth. ‘If nothing else,’ he accepted quietly, ‘I better not look too angry.’

And, with more bidders tentatively engaging Belaris and being thwarted in turn, he reached to the small table beside him and had a long, languid sip of his drink. ‘Oh well,’ he said, a little theatrically. ‘It would have made a nice toy.’ It wasn’t meant to be convincing. But Belaris had enough people to keep track of that it could help him slip from the man’s notice.

Q’ira’s eyes were on the screen. ‘Now. He’s pushed plenty and the others are dropping off. Put in a good bid and he won’t want to go further, or he’ll scare everyone off.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Rosewood mumbled. And bid.

A moment passed. Then another. His bid shone at the top of the list, bright and highest and uncontested. Across the room, Belaris’s eyes settled on him – then the tall man gave a deep incline of the head, and moved no further.

‘Going once!’ came Nank’s voice.

Had he not been keeping one eye out, he wouldn’t have noticed Aestri’s reaction. Now her head snapped up, looking away from her device – which likely told her she was winning, only for Nank’s eyes, everyone else’s eyes, to have landed on Rosewood. The Orion woman’s mask finally broke, no emotion on her face, but her movements became quicker, frantic as she bent over her device.

‘She’s catching on,’ muttered Q’ira.

‘Too late, surely?’ said Aryn.

‘But if she just throws a massive bid up there and bets it’s big enough to dwarf us…’

A new figure appeared behind them, and Rosewood’s heart swelled as he heard the low, satisfied voice of Nallera. ‘Lights out,’ she mumbled, thumb on her PADD.

And as Aestri bent over her device, fingers tapping intently to command another bid, Rosewood looked at his own screen and saw absolutely nothing happen.

‘Sold!’ Nank yelled, clawed finger extending to Rosewood, and the room erupted. Eye-watering amounts of money had just been put forth, contested, thrown around, and most of the people putting up such figures likely had no idea what the Kairos Regulator really was, could really do. Now they clapped and laughed, and Rosewood’s gut would have sickened with the reminder that, for them, the buying and selling of objects that could bring misery to thousands was sport more than business.

But he couldn’t feel too bad. They’d won. The Kairos Regulator was theirs.

Q’ira tossed her hair back, any tension gone as she stuck her nose in the air. ‘Told you,’ she said, voice dropping as if she’d not worried one jot. ‘You just have to know the players.’

Across the room, Aestri stormed out, face expressionless as her guards flanked her. Belaris had also disappeared into the shadows, and Rosewood didn’t know if he was off to lick his wounds or congratulate himself on a job well done.

Rosewood looked up at Nallera. ‘Nice work. She didn’t figure out there was a problem until the end.’

Nallera beamed. ‘I know what I’m doing.’ Then she hesitated. ‘What, uh, if she complains to Nank?’

‘They won’t re-do the auction, surely,’ said Aryn. ‘And surely there are loads of people here who might sabotage her? She showed herself a big fish earlier.’

‘We’re winners. We’ll still be suspicious,’ Rosewood murmured. ‘That doesn’t matter unless Nank comes for us.’

‘The thing about cheating at these events,’ said Q’ira, examining her nails with what he was finally starting to believe was affected indifference, ‘is that it’s only unacceptable if you get caught. Then you’re a loser who’s ruining the fun. If she complains after getting beaten, then she’s just a sore loser who didn’t have the lobes.’

‘Nice work,’ said Cassidy as he arrived, Tiran beside him. ‘But if we’re done, I don’t care how suspicious it looks – let’s collect the Regulator and get the hell out of here.’

Rosewood still had to look at Tiran, eyebrows raised. ‘How did you do that?’

‘Some day,’ said Tiran, ‘when you’re all grown-up in this line of work, I’ll tell you.’

‘We can pat ourselves on the back later,’ Cassidy said more brusquely. ‘I meant what I said. Let’s get the goods and go. We overplay our luck and they won’t be forgiving anyone for “not having the lobes.” They’ll rip ours off our head. Just for starters.’

‘It’s hard,’ sighed Rosewood, falling into step with the rest of the Rooks, Q’ira still draped on his arm to maintain appearances. ‘Being a winner.’