Detours
Posted on 25 Feb 2024 @ 3:49pm by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Edited on on 26 Feb 2024 @ 6:06am
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
Location: Observation Lounge
Timeline: MD 4 - Day 8
1092 words - 2.2 OF Standard Post Measure
How had that happened? From the puzzled look on their faces, both Brek and Kreca were wondering the same thing. From one delay (Kreca’s passenger ship would be two hours late), to various detours (to buy a few ‘essential’ items, food and care product that the Ferengi artist didn’t know existed until she set her eyes on them) - their feet and their minds had taken them to an Observation Lounge.
There, Kreca was so impressed by the place, its numerous officers in their crisp uniforms, civilian merchants and delegates in bright clothes; the multilingual chatter that filled the air, that she looked pretty much like a five year old on her first space journey. Brek directed her towards an isolated table before she had a chance to collide with a group of Lurians who, judging by their lack of gloom, had not seen each other in ages.
The two Ferengi barely gave a glance at the menu and they both agreed to order what was called a ‘mystery dessert’. The promise of something hopefully incredibly rich in ingredients and flavours.
Their milling around had started following Kreca’s announcement that the vessel she would be boarding was called the Nebulon Noodle. Those two words, put together... they had a terrible effect on Brek. It sounded so cheap and nasty, he wanted to scream and protest. No one should travel on a vessel with standards so obviously low that even their name stank.
“Well...” Brek said, to dissipate a silence that was fast taking the consistency of a force field. “This will be your last meal on this station.”
“You are making it sound like the last meal of a condemned inmate, while it’s the exact opposite.” Kreca said with a smile, which, he would swear, looked a little forced. “Once I’ve left this station my freedom will start. I’ll see new planets, new cultures, new everything.”
It was a convoluted way, he thought, to say that essentially, she would not see him and his pesky grandmother anymore. This alone, apparently, was worth travelling to the other end of the galaxy.
“I wish...” He started, but he left the sentence unfinished and he sighed.
“Yes?” She looked, he found, rather hopeful.
“I wish you had chosen a different ship for your trip. We Ferengi should always travel in style. Above First Class, on a renowned vessel is a bare minimum. You, on your side will be travelling on The Nebulon Noodle. Doesn’t it strike you as lame? Vile even. You are a first class artist after all, and you shouldn’t demean yourself.”
She clicked her tongue. “Obviously, we do not share the same values, Brek. This trip of mine is not about style, it is about discovery.”
“I can see that. It is the discovery that your latinum will actually not take you that far,” Brek pointed out, unfortunately saying the first thing that had crossed his mind.
“As it may be,” Kreca unfolded her napkin briskly. “In any case, this is my life, my choice. I don’t know why you are making such a fuss. I don’t even know why you are still here, in front of me. With your splendid business acuity, don’t you have better things to do at the moment? I can...”
Her voice trailed off. A male human waiter with impeccable posture and poise, a warm smile and an attentive gaze (the sort of perfection one expects from holo assistants) presented himself with their orders.
Silicon Sandcake for Monsieur, topped with a bright orange, almost fluorescent fruit coulis, and edible Tellarite crystals that shimmered with bioluminescence. There were so many colours in that thing, that Brek squinted at it. As for Madame, she was offered a Symbiotic Sundae. An equally colourful confection made with Vulcan berries and tangy Cardassian fruits.
The waiter wished them a ‘bon appetit’ - one of their verbal tics, Brek reckoned. Once he had left their table the art dealer attacked his sandcake in earnest, giving the impression he had not eaten anything in two days. Kreca, on her side, remained circumspect.
“Is it my imagination,” she started, dubious. “Or do these desserts look rather... exuberant?”
Brek shrugged. “This is Starfleet’s way. They always give you more than you expect. It’s big budgets all the way through with them. This is why I like humans so much. They’ve got plenty to give.”
“Hmm usually, when people give, they also take.”
“Nonsense!” Brek said between two mouthfuls. “You should see what I got the other day from Cmdr Zahn. Three full cardboard boxes of collectibles! Great value for zero latinum there, I can assure you!”
She observed Brek a moment and then added: “Some would say she bought your loyalty, at the very least to this Station.”
Brek frowned, his fork midway between his cake and his mouth. “That’s not a nice thing to say. Ferengi with loyalties, they don’t live long. That’s why we are better off not cultivating that sort of thing.”
“Except for the loyalty to latinum, first class travel, that sort of thing.” Kreca pointed out. “You Ferengi men are weird. A different species, altogether.”
Brek shrugged. “Are you going to eat that thing?” He asked, showing the sundae with his fork. She pushed the ice cream towards him, which prompted him to add: “Oh, I almost forgot. I sent you a file with a few contacts. You don’t have to use them if you don’t want to. It’s just a safety measure, in case some of the planets you visit are not too amenable... One never knows. On the plus side, if you were to use this list of mine, you’d meet interesting people. You would also have the opportunity to talk about my faults and supposed loyalties behind my back.”
“Since you insist, I think I will. In fact, by talking to them I might actually discover who you really are, Brek.”
“You make it sound like I have dozens of secrets, while in that department I’m very impoverished.”
“What a lack of pretensions,” Kreca teased. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Brek.”
"Me shameful? Never!" He quipped. "My secrets are about as well-hidden as your first doodles - and about as meaningful: open to interpretation but ultimately quite transparent."
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
She looked too serious for his liking, so this time Brek allowed her to have the last word.
