Ara
Posted on 10 Oct 2022 @ 7:06am by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Location: OC - Promenade - Timeless Treasure Art Gallery
Timeline: Timeline: MD06 - 1430HRS
1533 words - 3.1 OF Standard Post Measure
With his feet on his desk, Brek was consulting the file that his friend Neph had just sent him. There was, in it, a list of close to two hundred artifacts that had gone missing or, even better, had never been found. From Cardassian ancient swords and murals, to Bajoran poems, ancient texts and caskets, or Terran treasures (jewels and old coins), often lost at sea. There was plenty in there to keep him busy when the art trade went slow. He set his mind on a yellow 137-carat Florentine Diamond from Earth, with a twisted fate: it had been owned by various royal families for centuries, had last been seen in a bank vault, and then had disappeared. This made Brek smile. Those Hewmons who thought they were better than Ferengi. They weren’t really. Most of those objects were in the hands of private collectors now. Knowing them and being able to trade with them, well, that alone was a source of wealth.
He was totally engrossed in the documented history of that magnificent diamond when he received a call. He glanced at his PADD, and grumbled a long curse in Ferengi. His grandmother wanted to speak with him. Not his idea of fun at all, but he dared not reject her. For a start she was immensely wealthy, and he wanted to be seen as her favorite grandson. Also, if he pretended to be busy, she would send her bodyguard to kick his backside. Literally. It had happened before.
So, whilst he kept his feet on his desk, he took the video call.
“Ara!” He started, making an effort to look pleased. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“I bet you didn’t.” She wasn’t amused and she gave him her best 'basilisk stare’. “Why did you leave Starbase 520 so suddenly, abandoning all your privileges? Have you lost your mind? If it is the case, mark my word, I’ll help you to find it!”
Although old, Ara never seemed to change. Her speeches were as repetitive as the silly flowers printed on her yellow dresses. Sadly her lectures usually involved the mention of a list of insanely wealthy Ferengi heiresses, (all of them well past their prime). Time was going on, and, so far, she only had one ‘miserable’ great grandson.
Brek shrugged. “I don’t understand you. You’ve always disliked my position within Starfleet. Always going on about my lack of independence and the fact I have never proved that I could be a successful Ferengi. Well I’m doing this very thing, right now.”
“By opening an obscure art gallery on a Federation Starbase? I have seen five year olds doing brighter things.”
"Aha. I see that you're in a funny mood today. So... What can I do for you?" As he asked this question, Brek continued to peruse his file on lost treasures.
"You can get your feet off your desk, you lazy beetle, and show me around. Is this your office? Show me more!”
Although he didn’t want to, Brek obeyed. To please the old bag was, after all, in his best interest. “You know,” he added. “This is a state of the art Station. We have holo technology. We could use this mode of communication, and you would see the whole place, as if by your own eyes.”
“So that you can better mock me, Little Beetle? Don’t be ridiculous. Things are always done my way. I’m too old to be inconvenienced by those modern gadgets.”
“I’d never...” He protested, but only meekly because, well, she was right. She was not a sight to behold and it was kind of fun to make jokes - only in thought - about her.
“Shut your trap, Brek. I know very well what you say and think behind my back.”
By then Brek had moved his PADD around the room, to show Ara his office. While doing so, he made sure to avoid the portrait of a Ferengi woman on his desk, so that Ara wouldn’t question him about it.
“That’s not a bad place, I must admit...” she said. “Your splendid desk, is it mahogany wood? And those little caches that you have around the room, instead of bookshelves, are ingenious. Books are so overrated. T’will look better when you actually have items to display though.”
“I’ve just arrived... But I have plans, obviously. As for the wood, your assumption is close enough. I’ve used sapele, from one of our colonies. It’s extremely resistant to insects.”
“Hmmm... A pointless trait on such a Station, is it not, Brek? Still, the style is grand, and that’s what counts. Our species cannot afford to look impoverished. It affects our judgement, and, ultimately, our success. What about the gallery?”
He went there, and walked along the canvases that were already on display, in the white, almost clinical gallery. A sharp contrast to the warmth of his office. There was an uncertain look on his face because he knew damn well that granny was going to go ballistic over the fact that the art on display was exclusively Romulan. She equated the sale of Romulan art to an act of charity. And, sure enough, her expression changed. There was a hint of grey on her face, making her look like she was going to be sick.
“Ah... I shouldn’t be surprised, yet I am.” Her voice was now cavernous. “They say disappointment is only finite, I seriously doubt that it is so. Anyway... I take it that all this, it makes you happy, Little Beetle?”
“What a question. This is my life, Ara. It doesn’t have to be happy, only to be fruitful.” Brek countered, annoyed by her words. For, if he listened to his heart, he would be a man of leisure. There would be no obsessing about how much latinum he could make in a day. No worries about whether or not his name figured prominently in Ara’s will. “Let’s not lie to each other. This is what you wanted me to do: behave like a true Ferengi.”
“Hmmm... I don’t think we’ve ever spoken the same language, Little Beetle. Show me again the painting to your left.” He obliged. “No, not the one with the citadel in ruin, Romulans and their highfalutin angst... Makes me shiver. The one with the bridge and the mist.”
Brek stood in front of a painting by Romulan artist Bajeem. It gave the impression you were on a rope suspension bridge, leading toward a majestic tree. The landscape held the promise of a beautiful landscape with a quiet river under the bridge and a luscious vegetation around the tree. But the whole scene was bathed in mist, lending a mysterious atmosphere to the scene.
“I’ll take that one,” Ara added resolutely.
“Will you?” Brek sounded baffled. He couldn’t help it. “Why would you do that? You despise the Romulans.”
“A well balanced relationship then, as they despise me too.”
Despite her words, Brek hesitated. “Fine. But the price will not agree with you. It is quite steep. The purpose is, after all, to help the Romulan cause.” He placed his PADD in front of the price tag, so that Ara could see it.
She whistled and Brek froze. He had never heard his grandmother produce such a sound.
“That price is not steep, Brek. It is criminal. Never mind. I stand by my choice. I’m buying that thing. See it as a contribution from me, to... to... help you with your new life. Let me ask you a question though.”
Brek braced himself. Now for sure, the speech about heiresses and great grandsons would be thrown to his face. After all, when was the last time anyone had heard of a Ferengi willing to help? The word alone, no matter how small it was, bore too many implications, making it difficult to use. Still, since she had already wired him the money, being polite was his only option.
“By all means, Ara, ask away.”
“Why don’t you sell Ferengi art? Sure, we can get all the art we want. There is no need for us to create. But we have artists too.”
Brek almost giggled. Ferengi art? It conjured up images of polluted swamps and business towers that looked like they had been carved in latinum. “I never thought of it,” he said feebly. “I feel sure I’m not the only one.”
“Think of it, Little Beetle. There is no reason why we, Ferengi, cannot shine in an art gallery. Well, I have to go now. Something urgent has come up. I’ll pay you a visit as soon as Obsidian Command is safe again. When I do so I’ll pick up this... this thing that I purchased from you. Have a good day, Little Beetle.”
Her face vanished from his PADD, and, thoughtful Brek went to the Bridge painting, to mark it as ‘sold’. For now, it would stay on display, of course, as a means to promote Bajeem’s talent.
