There was a beautiful alien flower called Stella Mars. It was kept under special guard at the Templomuseum's Garden, and no one was allowed to touch it or even come closer than exactly five meters. It was guarded night and day by two Security Guardians. Some said that it was brought to Earth long ago aboard an ancient spacecraft as a seed, and had sprouted by accident in the Garden. Others insisted that it could talk and had special powers.
It looked a lot like a rose, actually, but neither Dr. Grabengon or his friend Eagle had ever seen a rose, and they had no interest in plants in general. They learned about it by chance from a passing Peddler of non-toxic perfumes. The Peddler told them that the Stella Mars was not just any alien flower: it was enchanted.
"Baloney!" exclaimed Dr. Grabengon, and took another swig off his bottle of Gravat.
"No, no!" insisted the Peddler of non-toxic perfumes, opening another vial, out of which floated green and blue rings. The rings gathered at the ceiling and stayed there like imprisoned clouds. They smelled strongly of something intoxicatingly sweet and yet had a dark, sharp undercurrent that was a bit like iodine. "Whoever possesses it will have a long and happy life. It is an ancient spell cast by a very powerful lady, the Dark Fairy Miranda."
"Yeah, right," remarked Eagle, adjusting his glasses. "And now you'll tell us that your perfumes are enchanted, too!"
Dr. Grabengon laughed drunkenly as the Peddler folded away his display case. He was not offended in any way, but rather disappointed in his customers, who had grown so cynical as to dismiss legends immediately as pure nonsense. He blinked his milky white eyes that resembled the eyes of a dead fish. For all Eagle and Dr. Grabengon knew, he could have easily been one of the Braqonieri, a particularly nasty species of law breakers found in almost every corner of every other planet.
"I'll tell you one more thing," the Peddler said from the doorway, looking sadly over his shoulder at the two unbelievers. "That flower in the Templomuseum's garden is worth millions. Many people want it, but whoever brings it to Kingman will be richly rewarded." Having said these words, the Peddler left.
"Hmm…let’s find out if it's true," said Eagle.
"What? You believe this flower grants happiness and long life?" asked Dr. Grabengon, swaying in place as if blown about in a violent storm, although the weather that night was exceptionally calm. Only crickets were quietly singing outside the hotel window.
"No, Grabengon. I don't believe in anything the Peddler said. But if it's really worth that much, we can at least give it a try. Let’s steal it."
"My word, Eagle! Where are your morals? We're not going to become thieves. Besides, that flower is nonsense. Chances are it doesn't even exist."
"So, according to you, selling false potions is not stealing?" asked Eagle, both his eyebrows raised challengingly high.
"No! We're simple merchants. If someone is dumb…err…gullible enough, they buy them. We don't force them to do anything," retorted Dr. Grabengon, adjusting his necktie made of artificial striped giraffe. (He was quite fond of it, as it was the only new addition to his wardrobe in several years.)
"I say, we pay a visit to the Templomuseum's garden sometime," persisted Eagle. "Personally, I'm getting a little sick of running from town to town."
"Well, all right, but this is all nonsense. You're beginning to get a bit gullible yourself, Eagle, and in our line of work, that's not good at all."