High Crime & Corriander: A Percival Bálor Misadventure (Part II)

Posted on Sun Feb 22nd, 2026 @ 5:16pm by Lieutenant Percival Bálor Ph.D
Edited on on Sun Feb 22nd, 2026 @ 8:22pm

1,388 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Preservation Instinct
Location: Freecloud

There was something oddly attractive about people and places that were 'rudely' honest. Percy greatly appreciated that. Be it because he was half-Tellarite, or simply because of who he was, but Stardust City was one of those places. It never pretended to be anything but itself. Unfortunately, that didn't mean it was safe. At all. Freecloud was a pool of problems that profited well from the misfortune of others, and Stardust City was fueled by scum and desperation.

The very moment Percival Bálor stepped onto the glass promenade, the air thickened with neon haze, perfumes, and opportunity sharpened into menace. People came to Stardust City for opportunities, rebirth, and some came to evade law. Freecloud’s surface glittered with commerce and vices, towers rising in shimmering spires while ground level teemed with gamblers, drifters, and opportunists who knew the price of everything and the value of very little. Music pulsed from open doors; laughter and arguments overlapped in a constant electrical instruments. If anyone ever though Ferenginar was rough, they would end up dead in a ditch on Freecloud.

Percy moved through the city with quiet purpose, a long coat brushing past strangers, eyes forward. To survive here, you had to mind your business while watching everyone, but not get caught observing them. He had exchanged jungle humidity for urban decadence, but the tension clinging to his shoulders remained unchanged. Weeks had passed since Folnar III. Disruptor burns had scared over. The jewel rested secure in a pocket near his chest, its weight disproportionate to its size.

As he walked down a dark alley, he was practically walking over slimped bodies of tweakers that were blissed out into zombie-like states of consciousness from 'Joy dust,' one of the many narcotics popular on Freecloud, second to Snakeleaf. He convinced himself he’d come here because it was necessary. It wasn't. The craftsmanship he required was not something one entrusted to the replicator banks aboard a starship to do, and the man he was coming to see was the best in the business... just not always legally.

The jeweler’s establishment crouched between a holo-lounge and a pawn shop that trafficked in starship parts of questionable origin. They even peddled in Federation technology salvaged and stolen. The sign flickered intermittently, announcing refinement that the surrounding street mocked. Percy stepped inside cautiously. In Stardust City especially, one had to be at a constant yellow alert status.

The softer lighting replaced the harsh neon glare from outside. Display cases glittered with precious alloys and stones liberated from countless worlds. Behind the counter stood the proprietor. He was a Ferengi whose smile carried all the warmth of a contractual clause, and that smile revealed teeth that had been upgraded to gold pressed latinum dental implants.

“Welcome, welcome!” the Ferengi chirped. “Discretion guaranteed. Satisfaction, however is negotiable.”

Percy removed his gloves, setting them aside with deliberate calm. “I was told you specialize in… unique settings?" Percy studied the Ferengi.

The Ferengi’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Unique carries a special surcharge.”

Percy placed the jewel on the counter. "I figured it would. Can you work on this?"

For a moment, eyes displaced calculation. The Ferengi leaned forward, lobes twitching as the hardened resin caught the light. " It's exquisite,” he whispered. “Unregistered origin. Highly valuable.... a lot of profit to be made."

“Yes,” Percy said. “Which is why it will not be sold" added Percy. "Not why I am here." Percy then produced a small ingot of gold-pressed latinum and placed it beside the jewel. “I require a ring. Masculine. Durable. Elegant without ostentation. It needs to be suitable for an Efrosian. This stone set centrally.”

The Ferengi’s gaze flicked between client and materials. “Ah, sentimental purchase. How disappointing.”

Percy’s expression hardened into something quieter. “Yes.”

“Fine then,” A beat. “Payment is acceptable. Wait here.”

The jeweler retreated towards the rear of the store undoubtedly where his workstation was, tools were already humming to life. Percy wandered the shop floor, hands clasped behind his back, gaze drifting across the displays without seeing them. Instead, his thoughts lingered on the person this ring was meant for.

Yivliph Ra-Gruvloveii. First Officer. Chief Intelligence Officer. Brilliant, maddening, composed, and he would be giving Percy a verbal reprimand for going to Freecloud alone. Their relationship began in stolen conversations and shared silences, forged between duty shifts and crisis reports. Percy could catalog nebulae or chart stellar anomalies with ease, yet articulating what he felt for Yivliph remained impossibly complicated for a while until everything came to surface.

This ring was simpler. Concrete. An offering without a complex rehearsed rhetoric.Then, the shop’s door chimed., and Peecy stiffened. A complete shift in posture.

Three figures entered. They were green-skinned, confident, and armed beneath their cloaks. Orion Syndicate. Of course. The universe did enjoy continuity. He was pretty sure he shot at them a while back. Percy didn’t turn immediately, merely noting reflections in the display glass.

“Lieutenant Bálor,” one called pleasantly. “You travel well.”

Percy exhaled through his nose. “Seriously? I had hoped you’d lost interest in me by now. This is becoming downright stalker behavior" quipped Percy.

“You possess something that belongs to us" stated an Orion.

“It does not belong to you. It belongs to botany,” he replied.

Disruptors then appeared. The Ferengi hearing the commotion had yelped from the back room. One Orion stepped forward "Your life in exchange for the jewel, Lieutenant."

Percy pivoted smoothly, phaser already drawn. “I’m afraid negotiations are closed.” He was leaving here alive and with his jewel.

The first exchange of weapons fire disintagrated glass and civility alike. Energy fire flashed through the showroom, scattering jewels across the floor like artificial stars. Percy vaulted behind a display case, returning controlled bursts that forced the Orions to spread out.

“Careful!” the Ferengi shrieked. “My Inventory!”

“Just bill me,” Percy snapped.

Percy rolled sideways as a disruptor blast scorched his previous position, then fired again. One Orion dropped behind cover while another advanced relentlessly. Just give up already he wanted to say to them.

The workshop door burst open. The Ferengi thrust out a small box with trembling hands. “Finished!”

Percy snatched the completed ring mid-motion, tucking it safely away. “Much obliged.”

“Payment—!” shouted the Ferengi.

Percy quickly sat down his weapon, pulled out a Cardassian device and tapped away before tucking it away. “Already rendered" retorted Percy. He picked up his phaser again.

Then, he triggered a display console behind him, plunging part of the room into darkness. Confusion bought him precious seconds. Percy used those seconds to surge toward the exit, disruptor blasts producing light that kept the pursuit hot.

The street exploded into chaos as he emerged. Civilians scattered. Music faltered. Percy ran, his boots pounding pavement slick with reflected neon in puddles of rain. Disruptor blasts chased him through the crowd.

He cut down an alley, vaulted crates, and burst onto a landing platform where small craft rested between departures. Alarms wailed somewhere behind him.

An unattended shuttle waited with hatch ajar. “Now that is convenient,” he muttered, sprinting aboard.

He sealed the hatch just as disruptor fire struck the hull. Systems flickered to life beneath his hands. Flight control instincts ingrained from proximity to the helm crew he so often studied. Engines roared. "Let's hope that Siren's defensive piloting lessons come in handy."

The shuttle lifted under fire, skimming past structures before rocketing skyward. Atmospheric turbulence rattled the frame as Percy pushed it hard, refusing pursuit any comfort.

Only when stars filled the viewport did he dare allow any tension to loosen. Percy engaged autopilot and finally opened the jeweler’s box.

Inside rested the ring. Gold pressed latinum shaped into a clean, confident band. The jewel blazed at its center, refracting like starlight in quiet brilliance. It was perfect.

Percy leaned back, breath steadying, bruised and singed but victorious once again. “All this trouble,” he murmured softly, turning the ring between his fingers, “and I’ve yet to even think about wedding plans.”

Outside, the Alpha Doradus system burned cold and distant. Percy set course for somewhere. He would find the USS Ontario, carrying with him a promise forged through jungle bloodshed and city disruptor fire, forging something rare, fragile, and worth every dangerous mile.

 

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