The Path to Great Profits
Posted on 16 Sep 2023 @ 6:42am by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Edited on on 06 Feb 2024 @ 10:16pm
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
Location: USS Cassiopiea, In the outer reaches of the Loki System
Timeline: M4 D2 Early Afternoon
1325 words - 2.7 OF Standard Post Measure
Ara had installed herself comfortably at a table, where she was taking advantage of several cups of tea, accompanied by a generous supply of biscuits. Wafers, cookies, shortbread and strange things called madeleines. She was eating those rather fast and noisily, leaving a lot of crumbs around her.
“Stafleet definitely knows how to receive,” she commented in Ferengi, and not for the first time, to Kreca.
The artist, who was normally quite vocal too, had found herself in complete awe of the luxury presented by the Cassiopiea and the fact that no one had been shocked at seeing two Ferengi women travelling together, without the guidance of a man. There was a brand new life out there, that bore no resemblance to what she had always experienced on Ferenginar. And so she had said very little. Because, against all odds, she missed her homeworld, its cuisine and its architecture. How could she be so full of contradictions?
“I’ll use their service again, and again. Now, my dear Kreca,” Ara went on, pausing between the gobbling up of two chocolate cookies. “We need to talk about what you can expect to find on Obsidian Command.”
“If the station is as lavish as this ship, I won’t be disappointed.” Kreca said, quietly.
“Yes, of that there is no doubt. The Federation always lives in abject opulence. Their vessels and stations are a delight to the eyes and the senses, too.” Ara slurped some tea and then she observed the artist quite intensely. “You are talented, Kreca, which is something that I truly appreciate, but you are about as insightful as a snailosaurus. What I meant is, I need to speak to you about my grandson, and what you can expect from him.”
“Oh...” Kreca felt the sudden urge to sip some tea, which she did in complete silence, something that seemed to puzzle Ara. The old woman’s motto seemed to be that if you didn't make yourself heard and seen, you didn’t exist. “I know what to expect from Brek,” she ventured. “I spoke to him a couple of times. He is annoying, but he is not violent, which is a huge advantage.”
“Indeed. He received a decent education. And of course, as he went through Starfleet Academy, they brainwashed him good and proper over there. They turned him into a respectable and er... honest man. I don’t think he is capable of hurting a fly, even if his latinum is at risk. There are moments where he really scares me.” Another biscuit was consumed. “So I’m rather counting on you to show him the error of his ways. Show him the right path. The path to great profits. Yes. He needs to remember that life isn’t about stagnation, it is about enrichment. I believe that, if you were to seduce him, anything you then tell him would become irresistible.”
Kreca blushed. “I’m not sure I have that power, Ara...”
“You told me, a few days ago, that you quite liked my grandson. What’s the matter with you? Are you one of those women who are entirely clueless as to how to approach a man? Do I really need to teach you everything?”
“I said I liked him well enough,” Kreca corrected. “I also said I wanted to thank him for rescuing me after my studio was burnt down. This is all I said.”
“Yes, I’m not senile,” Ara added. “I heard you correctly the first time. As you like him, give yourself to him, and you will see, a miracle will happen: all your financial problems will disappear and you’ll be able to focus solely on your art. And then, once Brek is hooked, we’ll be able to work on him. Change his personality. Turn him into a good Ferengi.”
“Won’t it be like working against him?” Kreca ventured. “I wouldn’t want to act against him. This is what I meant when I said that I like him well enough.”
Ara sat back and produced a long sigh. “Even at my advanced age, I still hear amazing things. You have to open your eyes, Kreca. Don’t let all that you can see around you, right now, fool you.” With a dismissive hand, she indicated the dining hall and its superb decoration. “We are not from Earth, Betazed or even Bajor. In our society, men don’t give us any advantage. All they do is take take take. What we need, we have to grasp with both hands and all our wits. And there is no better way to take from a man than through the heart. Do you think that I came across my wealth with ease? I endured seven marriages, Kreca. Seven relationships, where each time, I took my due. Yet even now, I have to remain extremely careful how I enjoy this wealth. This is the only way our lot can survive.”
“But I have my art,” Kreca pointed out.
“Once again, jf you were hewmon, I’d not dispute your stance. But as a Ferengi female, Kreca, on its own, this art of yours has no more value than toilet paper. You don’t have financial support. Whilst with Brek, and obviously with me too, latinum will flow.”
“I know what you are saying Ara... and yet, on other worlds, I have heard that there is such a thing as support among women. Where things are achieved without the interference of any man.”
“Are you talking of holonovels, now? In the real world, things are different, young lady. In the real world, grandmothers have unmarried grandsons and they want grandchildren.” Ara sighed again. “If what I’m asking is truly beyond you, I’ll find someone else who’s more compliant. And you needn’t even bother stopping by Obsidian Command, my dear. Carry on wherever it is you think that you are going to find your fortune.”
“Indeed, it might be for the best,” Kreca agreed. “Yet I’m not one to ignore my duties. I have this painting, Swamp Ogogpo that I promised Brek. I plan to deliver it to him, in person.”
Another ship-wide announcement was made, and Ara promptly crammed several biscuits into the pockets of her yellow and purple coat. “We are nearly there. You will do what you want, Kreca, but if you know what’s good for you, you will spend some meaningful time with Brek. He is a good offer, and like all good bargains, once he’s gone, he’s gone.” She got up. “Sadly this grandson of mine shares this trait with you that his mind is also full of weird ideas. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if one morning I learned that he’s just married a Romulan spy, a Tellarite miner or why not a Bajoran priestess. The boy will do anything to annoy me.”
“He is 36.”
“A male, who is in his mid-thirties and is not married, is a boy.” Ara correctly harshly. “I don’t care how many affairs that man has. Life is made of profits and responsibilities. Brek, at the moment, has neither. And I have to live with this disgrace. By the wealth of all the Grand Nagus, past, present and future,” she continued to mumble as she made her way, ever so slowly, out of the dining hall, “there was a time, where he was someone in uniform. He was respected. Now he sells art like a mere hewmon. He will be the death of me!”
The soft protest in Ferengi continued and the old woman finally left the hall. Kreca, for her part, decided to stay here for a few more minutes. She needed to think. Would she just deliver her painting and leave, or would she take advantage of the art dealer? More importantly, was he really the great deal that Ara described?
