New Friends, Resurfaced Memories: The Dinner Party, Part 1
Posted on 01 Feb 2024 @ 7:38pm by Lieutenant Commander Maurice Rubens & Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Edited on on 06 Feb 2024 @ 10:05pm
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
Location: Moon and Rice's Quarters
Timeline: M4 - D6 Evening
1592 words - 3.2 OF Standard Post Measure
Rice brushed the white wine against his lips, pretending to drink it, but really keeping an eye on the room. Despite Moon putting her on the backfoot yesterday – a surprise, he had to admit, but a welcome one – Bong-Cha had regained her composure and inserted herself into the evening’s affair. Instead of fighting Moon, her mother was now actively helping. To the unwary eye one would assume she’d had a change of heart, but Rice knew it was a change of tack. Bullying hadn’t worked, so now she’d try to grind out a win with charm. She’ picked the wine: Rice hated the vintage and was certain she knew it.
He’d found himself on a couch with the Ferengi artist, Kreca. She was staring at her toes looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else. He was happy he’d dressed in a simple blue turtleneck sweater and khaki pants. His uniform would’ve made this more awkward. “Do you go to many dinner parties?”
“I must say, until I met Ara, a few days ago, I never went to any dinner, at all. All this ritual around wine and food, it is new to me.” Kreca said with a sigh. “And I would rather be in my quarters, painting.” With the back of her hand, she brushed her dress - a vibrant garment that imitated the colors or an amazingly bright sunset - to get rid of a few crumbs. She had quite enjoyed the amuse-bouches served a little while ago. “You on the other hand, must be used to this sort of thing, Mr Rubens. Are parties always so deceptive? It looks to me like we are all talking, and yet what ought to be said, is kept cleverly at bay.”
“Depends. In the Federation, generally If it’s just friends or close-knit family, then no. But it only takes one person with an agenda.” Rice’s eyes flicked toward Bong-Cha, cooling for an instant before he returned his smiling gaze to Kreca, “Other places differ. Romulan parties in the Free State are filled with subterfuge and a nervous energy. There's a worry that if anyone says anything wrong they’ll be arrested. Klingon parties are…well, lot’s of drinking and singing. Actually, I really enjoyed the Klingon dinner party I went to. The food is alive and needs to be killed before you eat, but once I got over all the blood, it was quite an enjoyable time.”
Kreca blinked. “I never thought of parties this way, but it makes sense that they should be so coloured by their guests’ culture, blood included. Not something I would enjoy, I think.” Just as Rice had done moments ago, she also glanced at Bong-Cha, who was talking to Ara. It seemed to her terribly unfortunate that the two women had been paired.
“I’ve never been to one, but a friend of mine who was a point person on the Ferengi Union for the Exterior told me that Ferengis are the masters of the agenda-filled dinner party.”
“They would, of course,” Kreca agreed, returning her attention to the diplomat. “No Ferengi would bother going to a party that’s not been perfectly masterminded. The guests would expect to see potential trading partners and multiple contracts would, hopefully, be signed. When we think of it this way, every party has its own agenda. We all want something, after all. I must say, though, Mr Rubens, that it’s rather unusual for Terrans to seek the company of Ferengi...”
“There’s a lot to learn from the Ferengis. Most honest diplomats in the Galaxy, first of all.”
“Honest?” Kreca echoed. “How can it be so? I’ve lived on Ferenginar long enough to know that there is next to no moral correctness among my people. Most Ferengi would literally sell their soul for a decent profit.”
“They may not be ‘honest’ on the surface, but deep down they’re completely trustworthy. Most Ferengi - males of course - will always try to get the best deal for themselves. It’s expected. You can trust that that’s the way they’re going to act. None of this double-talk from Romulans, posturing from Klingons, or moral hand-wringing from the Federation. But Ferengi? They will always try to get the best deal for themselves out of any situation.”
Kreca nodded her head. “This is a clever way to describe my people, Mr Rubens. I agree that once you are aware that we only have one motivation, we are easy to read. But this determination to make profits, no matter the circumstances, don’t you find it annoying? This is the reason why the Ferengi seldom take sides during wars. There is too much profiteering to be made. On my side, I sometimes wished we were more nuanced.”
“I think the current Grand Nagus shares your views, but unless a revolution breaks out change is by inches not light years. Brek’s seems to be more along the Grand Nagus’s mold, yeah? You know, his name is oddly familiar. Is it a common Ferengi name?”
“In certain circles, on Ferenginar, the name Brek is infamous. It rhymes with ‘mistakes’. This is on account that he served Starfleet for several years. Die-hard entrepreneurs on my planet cannot stomach those, who, like Nog, chose to serve Starfleet. Anyway, Brek used to be a diplomat. It could be why his name sounds familiar to you.”
Memory is an unusual thing. A missing piece of information will unlock troves. Of course! Brek. One of the handful of Ferengi who’d joined Starfleet. He had a mixed reputation in the Fleet and in the Exterior. He’d made himself an invaluable during a first contact early in his career, one that basically made him the point person with the new species on Enutpen. That was something another officer could’ve turned into a lucrative career. Instead, Brek tried to turn his career into a literally lucrative one, selling a number of pieces of information that eventually led to the collapse of a couple of different negotiations. True, not critical to the Federation, but embarrassing nonetheless.
Despite that, Rice began to wonder how he could use the Ferengi.
“Of course!” he said. “So, diplomacy to art dealer. Huh.”
“It sounds ghastly, doesn’t it?” Kreca said with a little shrug. Rice had given the sum of Brek in one short but powerful sentence. It allowed her to view Ara’s matchmaking scheme in a different light. One where a life spent with the former diplomat was less than enviable. “He isn’t just any art dealer, though, he is an honest one.” She added with a little smile. “It is as you said moments ago: the sons of Ferenginar are predictable. I shouldn’t be too harsh on him, though, because he rescued me from a perilous situation. Have you ever had the opportunity to travel to Ferenginar?”
Rice shook his head. “It always sounded…dreadful.” He smiled and winked.
“There is no doubt that Ferenginar is an acquired taste...” Kreca said with a polite smile. She was beginning to discover that diplomats were difficult to fathom. You never knew whether their words were candid or if there was an ulterior motive to their questions. “But I kind of like it. It’s not without charms, if you ignore our capital city. I suspect that on your side you are well traveled. In your line of work, you must have visited countless places. Which one would you say is your favorite?”
“Cardassia,” Rice said without a second of thought. “Cardassia, without a doubt. It was challenging work. The people were tenacious, proud, but surprisingly open to cooperation. The planet was a hellhole, but together, them and us, we were making it better. I could see it. You know, the Federation is good at giving people hope. We can put aside all that fear, and political and emotional bullshit and really do some good. That’s when we shine. That’s when…”
He paused and his eyes drooped to his lap, his unfinished words propelling him into another memory, this time of a more personal nature. A Cardassian rebuilding effort that faltered and then watching a Romulan planet fall away as the Klingon ship he was on prepared to warp from its orbit. That brought Harshman to mind and the Korinn. Hope was nearly a joke.
It was only a second, but Rice suddenly remembered he was at a dinner party and mentally shook himself. Rice swept his eyes up to meet Kreca’s and he smiled again. “Can I get you a refill?”
“Why not,” Kreca said with a polite smile. Cardassia seemed to have affected the diplomat quite a lot, and she wasn’t sure how to respond to the trauma that he had experienced. This said, she liked what he had said about the Federation. Of course her people despised this organization, but at least they were trying to bring positive changes, and this was priceless. “But it will have to be the last glass for me. I’m not saying that I couldn’t get used to this sort of lifestyle, but it’s all very new to me.”
Rice stopped short and turned around. “Maybe not wine then. There’s an Earth delicacy called ‘cream soda.’ What do you think? Want to give it a whirl?”
“I’d definitely love to try it,” Kreca said with a smile.
