Need a new spleen? Antennae enlargement? Maybe your forehead ridges are too shallow? Juzzrel Glegg can do it all. Just don’t ask him where the parts come from. No one is even quite sure where he comes from. Some say he was born into Orion slavery, having earned his freedom by proving his skills with the surgeon’s knife. Others say he learned his skills from the Vidiians in the Delta Quadrant. Situated on the small planetoid Vulpecula IV for as long as anyone can remember, Juzzrel’s name is well known in the Triangle. He’s a lone wolf, a smooth talker, and when it comes to his craft he’s a damned artist. Sure any old Starfleet surgeon could give you a few skin grafts here and there, but when Juzzrel does his thing he does it with panache.
Sure, Juzzrel can talk. But perhaps what’s more telling about him is what he chooses to keep silent. It’s all part of his perception management, of course. After all, he’s selling a product. If you cared to do a bit of digging, perhaps by talking to a few of those who have dealt with him, it probably wouldn’t take you long to conclude that something doesn’t quite add up. Juzzrel would tell you that the replication systems at his surgery are sophisticated enough to create all manner of organs. But even though it’s true that genotronics have advanced hugely as we near the end of the 2300s, just how Juzzrel could have gotten his hands on cutting edge Federation medical equipment remains a mystery. On inspection, the hodgepodge of Klingon, Romulan and Orion technology he employs does not have the facilities required for organ replication on the scale he claims.
If you got a few drinks in him, maybe a glass of Kenar or three, he’d drunkenly blurt, “Location, location, location. It’s all about the supply chain.” This would be his explanation for setting up in the Triangle. It would make sense, too. There’s a kind of sick genius about it, actually. It’s a Triangle. You’ve got the Klingons, battle scarred and internally addled from diets of bloodwine and gagh. The Romulans are always putting on appearances, one-upping their peers, and you wouldn’t believe the amount of identity theft and espionage. OK, well, you probably would believe it. Then there’s the Federation, who you’d think wouldn’t care for something as vulgar or unscrupulous as paid surgical enhancements. Then again, maybe it’s the taboo that causes so many of them to seek it out? It’s all done off the record, and Juzzrel sure doesn’t ask many questions.
The key players in Juzzrel’s Triangle operations are much less self conscious, and much less concerned with borders and politics. They’re not the Ferengi, but latinum is still their language. Well, latinum and violence. Juzzrel is much more interested in the latinum part, which makes the Orions the ideal business partners. Through them, he can outsource the violence. “Plausible deniability.” Is another phrase you might hear him muttering drunkenly after a few too many Andorian ales. Juzzrel doesn’t ask them where the organs come from, and they don’t tell. Everyone knows, but it doesn’t seem to stop the flow of customers and the wealth they bring.
Will Juzzrel keep doing this forever? He can’t really say for sure. It’s his art. It’s limitless, letting him do things above and beyond the codes of honour, Empire or security. He’s been looking into cybernetics to keep things fresh. There’s a mean new client who wants disruptors welded to a duranium endoskeleton. That one’s going to need a bit of research. ‘Bored’ is not a word in Juzzrel’s vocabulary (neither is ‘ethics’). There are always new frontiers, new boundaries to be pushed, and there are always new clients. The 25th Century will soon be upon us, and the mores, desires and aspirations of the galaxy are relentless. Luckily, people like Juzzrel are here to cater to them all, free from stuffy moralising. So if you’re in the market, please remember that all major galactic currencies are accepted, but there’s a 10% discount for up front payment in latinum.