Solid Ferengi Ground
Posted on 19 Jun 2023 @ 12:50pm by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Edited on on 06 Feb 2024 @ 10:31pm
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Ferengi Space (Volchok) - Asax’s House
Timeline: Backstory: Spring 2380
1877 words - 3.8 OF Standard Post Measure
In this new life of his, Brek had taken to keeping a diary to record his financial evolution. Yet his first entry today concerned the horrible weather. It was too hot. The trading centre had not seen a drop of rain for ten long days and it felt like the end of, if not the universe, at least the Ferengi species. The swamps and the mud were turning to dust, the sun was ‘smiling’ relentlessly upon them, which often prompted the wealthiest citizens of Volchok to shake their fists at the sky. They also cursed and cast ominous spells at it. At this rate, next they would perform some kind of rain dance to entice the water spirits to chase the unbearable sun away.
They are devolving, Brek wrote down, not without satisfaction.
Sure, he too suffered from the insane heat, and he would rather be drenched in a storm than cook under a cloudless sky. But he was able to keep his dignity. Still, Ferengi were not built like Vulcans. They were like beautiful plants: they needed a regular supply of water. This made Brek smile because in town, what passed for the health authority was now displaying large boards with messages encouraging the population to stay hydrated and drink plenty of water. Water may be a common fixture on Ferengi worlds, few people actually liked to drink it in its pure form. Consequently, they saw those signs as insulting, and tempers continued to flare.
Thankfully, unlike what had happened during winter, Asax’s house, entirely equipped with a solid air conditioning system, was doing well. Well meant that Asax’s affairs weren’t slowing down.
Hearing footsteps in the corridor, Brek closed his diary and he opened a spreadsheet. One where the soaring profits of Asax’s numerous farms were listed. Those figures were alluring, gorgeous even, and they were begging for his attention. Yet Brek remained focused on the sounds in the corridor. The footsteps and soft grumbles were the markings of Asax’s daughter: Desha. (Déjà vu as he called her in his mind, for she always said the same kind of things, foul and provoking, to those who worked for her father). To his surprise, she opened the door of his offensively small office and she glared at him.
“My father wants to see the two of us, in his office, this instant,” she told him. “So you’d better stop your scribbling there, and follow me.”
Brek stared at her, unable to hide his bafflement. For several days, he had been wanting to use the silly romances enjoyed by Desha against her, but he was still unsure how to use those books without compromising Oroff’s job. “Did he say why he needs to speak to us?”
“All I know is that he is obviously not in his right mind, otherwise he would not involve me in anything to do with... you.” The way she spoke, he was meant to feel way beneath her. Instead, he smiled. This little trip downstairs might be the ideal moment to weaponize her reading preferences.
“We had better not make him wait, then,” Brek added, grabbing a PaDD, so that if asked, he could quote any figure that his employer might want.
“Do you find the situation amusing, Brek?”
“Going to your father’s office is always a treat,” Brek lied. “Anything is better than this little cage where I work.”
“Hmm... Yet, this cage, as you described so appropriately, fits you perfectly. You’ll always belong to such places, Brek, with the strict minimum. Just enough to survive and to serve.”
Brek smirked. “I doubt it very much. I have plans.”
“Everyone knows about your bright plans. Working for the outlanders in your spare time.” She laughed at him. “All you’ll ever get from those activities is small change. I, on the other end, will inherit my father’s financial empire one day.”
They were now going down the long spiral staircase. The one that usually took Brek to the front door and to his freedom. Today it felt oppressive in a different way. It stank of privileges, and he was quite jealous of Asax’s daughter and her ability to simply cruise. Everything would be given to her, without a fight or a struggle. He too had a wealthy relative, but his grandmother would not give him anything substantial for free. He needed to prove his worth first. “How naive can you be, Desha? You’ll inherit sod all. Your future husband will.”
“My husband,” she replied, imperious, “will have no say in any matter,” she informed him. “He will be a good little beetle. Your wife, on her side, she will be dumb. It’s written all over your face.”
“Sure. I bet you get those notions from the great literature that you consume. They make you clever, don’t they, those titles? The Inferno, the Embers of Hope and the Love that Defied Time?” He chucked. “If this is your idea of what love is all about, by 90 you will still be seeking a husband.”
She stopped and turned around to look up at him, perched two steps above her. “What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me fine. I told you to shut up,” he added with a sneer. “And we should not stall on those steps. If the staff sees us, they will begin to think that you fancy me, and then we’ll both be in serious trouble.”
“You are already in trouble,” she shouted as she turned around and continued to walk down the stairs, ever so slowly, imperial almost. “I’ll have you pay dearly for what you just said. Wait ‘till we get to my father’s office.
“I can’t wait to speak to your dad. I have a fair share of revelations to make too.”
She snorted. “No one will believe whatever comes out of your mouth. “This is not an outlanders’ planet, Brek. This is solid Ferengi ground. And since you are a nobody, what you say doesn’t count. Only figures count, with you.”
She was annoying him so tremendously, that Brek said the first thing that came to his mind. The one thing he had heard would harm a female so much that it would be akin, for the speaker, to experiencing an NDE: a near death experience. “True I love figures, except yours, ‘cause you are fat.”
She paused, seemed to contemplate her next action, and she continued her descent, with more poise than he thought possible. “You are so dead, Brek.” She said a moment later, her voice icily cold.
Mr Asax gave the two young people he had summoned a summary glance and although it was impossible not to notice that something ugly had happened between Desha and Brek he chose to ignore it.
“Here you are!” He asked, his voice cheerful, in sharp contrast with the dangerous thoughts of his guests. “I have splendid news! But do sit down, the two of you. I have managed to procure a most wondrous hewmon drink called ‘homemade lemonade’. It’s much more refreshing than our traditional snail juice. Do you want to try it?”
“I would love to,” Brek said immediately, for it was important to him to be in Mr Asax’s good books.
“I don’t feel like it,” Desha said. “Father, about Brek I must...”
“Now is not the time to belittle our Brek, my precious treasure,” Asax said, pouring three glasses of lemonade. He gave one to Brek, and another one to his daughter. “For he is not entirely without means.” He frowned at Brek and resumed: “Now is the time to look forward, and I have fantastic plans for the two of you. You will both spend the summer in one of my farms. The one called ‘Happy Trails’. My dear Brek, would you care to describe its many merits to us?”
It was easy to think of Happy Trails as being located on a southern island, but it was more than that. Over the years, production had consistently increased, encouraged by greed, and now the whole island was the farm. Robots, bots, and drones took care of the work, leaving the task of deciding what resources to farm and which fertiliser to use, to a General Manager.
“Happy Trails is performing exceedingly well,” Brek continued to recite with zero enthusiasm. To spend three months on a remote island, now that was an idea of hell he had been unable to envision. “HT grows a variety of insects for the food industry. It also operates a quarry and a large woodland.”
“Exactly,” Asax said with a big smile. “This farm has always been profitable and it runs literally by itself. This is why, young Brek, I’m placing you over there as the new manager. The previous one suffered an unfortunate accident, just this morning. I don’t know what took him to try and refine a fertiliser that worked perfectly fine. Let it be a warning to us all: don’t play with chemicals. In any case, your salary will be ten times what it is now. What is there not to like?”
“I can smell the stink of this farm from here,” Desha said, her arms folded on her chest. “What would I do over there? There is no shops, no theatre, not even a holosuite I bet. I’d also be cut out from my friends. What have I done to deserve this fate? And on top of this, I’d have to go with that moron, here. Your stupid accountant, who is rude beyond belief. I’ll die of boredom in two days!”
“With all that fresh air around you, I doubt it, my little treasure.” Asax countered. “It will be invigorating. You leave in two days. I know it’s sudden, but it is for your own good. I’ll be receiving important people shortly, and it will be best if you are not present. Some people are difficult to manage. This is all that I can say. As for you, Brek, you will respect my daughter, won’t you? A Ferengi of good character like you?”
Brek sighed. “Since this trip cannot be avoided, I’ll make sure to keep well away from Desha. That’s the best thing we can do for our sanity. I don’t know why you chose me, Mr Asax, your daughter and I, we hate each other.”
“Sometimes, this is the best kind of relationship between a man and a female.” He nodded his head, as if to convince himself that his words were wise. “It avoids complications. Don’t skip out on expenses, take as much as you want with you! I’m in a generous mood. I’ll pay for everything. Just make sure you board the Paragon in two days’ time at 0600 sharp. Oroff will be there to help you. Now, let me show you a map of this magnificent property of mine!” He took a sip of lemonade, and encouraged Brek and Desha to imitate him.
