The Day’s News

Posted on 03/05/2022 @ 7:21am by

1,228 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Mini Mission: When The Cat's Away
Location: Deck 1 to 41 (Ferengi Embassy)
Timeline: MD002 - 1400

On his way to his embassy, Brek reflected that, Wow indeed, what great things he had achieved today! First and foremost, he was doing his job, toadying to Poseidon’s crew and the other ambassadors, making sure he was seen as a nice little Ferengi. Fantastic nefarious plan here, from a guy who hated violence, would flee rather than harm and thrived in time of peace. Surely he also got bonus points for putting himself in a mediation process, where his relationship with Mrs Moreau would now be analysed.

And so, while certain Ferengis, younger than him, were running their own mining operation and sometimes even possessed whole moons, employing thousands of people, he was toiling in an embassy, being lovely.

He put his hands in his pockets, wanting to find a way to revamp his image, when his fingers met the contour of a foreign object in his left pocket. He took it out and saw a little visiting card, like those used in ancient times. On it, scripted in bright orange ink, and written in elegant Ferengi, was a message:

You are playing games with Starfleet.
Ferenginar sees.
And will seek to replace thee.

“Just what I need,” he grumbled. “Some more nonsense in my life.”

What kind of genius went to the extent of sending such a message without giving any specifics? It was a lame scare tactic, and a very transparent one too because so far on Poseidon he had only one enemy: Ferengi bankster Tobor.

He re-pocketed the card and resumed his trek towards the civilian realm, reflecting that one of the Ferengi delegates he had entertained this morning had likely left him this little gift. It would explain why they had insisted on seeing the ambassador rather than the cultural attaché.

Then, just as he was walking down some stairs, he received a message (well an info-dump really) from his envoy. There was a new ambassador in ‘town’. An El Aurian named Zaos Orihana. Picture included.

When Brek saw the image of the new diplomat he lost his balance, nearly twisted his ankle and landed on his knees. He received a few glances and was promptly ignored since he was only a Ferengi civilian. Regular treatment here. Unless your name is Cara Letsul, you know to avoid the species. He picked himself up and stared at his PADD.

“Darnation,” he mumbled.

The El Aurian Ambassador was 6’4 and he was very large. Not large like a whale. Large like a dangerous bodybuilder. He was also very old, but looked to be in his early 30. Adding to this, the new ambassador was connected to the Feshau family.

Brek limped to a bench and felt like he too was 600 years old. He also felt an intense surge of jealousy towards this new ambassador. It shouldn’t be permitted to look like that. With such an appearance, he bet that Orihanna didn’t need to speak to be respected, and women... well, they probably flew like butterflies around him, all wanting to share his life.

His jaw was set, but he forced himself to think the words ‘never mind’ several times and, once he felt better, he continued to read the file.

The Exodus of El Auria, the relentless Borg... not such a breezy life after all. And then El Aurian religion... The Voltar, a sacred text about prosperity, looked interesting, but Brek knew very little about religion in general. He could only name four deities in the whole galaxy: Lord Shiva (who appeared to be multitasking with his four arms), Zeus and Jesus (unrelated) and Khaless, who had been a real Klingon warrior from ancient times. He certainly didn’t believe in the Ferengi’s ‘Great River of the Continuum’ which he considered to be Great Hogwash. He believed in latinum. Plain and simple. And in those rare moments where he considered the origin of life, his 'deities' floated in the quantum realm, performing their amazing mechanics. Who or what was behind that, the four distinct nodes of his brain weren’t powerful enough to figure it out.

He typed a quick message for the El Aurian Embassy, to solicit an appointment with ambassador Orihanna. He usually preferred to turn up unannounced, but since the El Aurian had the audacity to look like that, he wasn't going to take any risk.

Some ten minutes later Brek was in his office, behind his desk, listening to his cultural attaché, Razir, who had a so-called terrific proposition that would put an instant end to the embassy’s financial woes. It consisted of an infernal plan to push the Grand Proxy in front of the media’s cameras, for some kind of reality show.

“They would be following you for 24 hours, Grand Proxy, to show the public that Ferengis have good sides too. You will be perfect for the role.” Razir explained, so eager was he to conclude the deal that he was already rubbing his hands.

“The same cameras that recently informed the public that two... hmm... ladies had recently and suddenly turned yellow?” Brek asked. “Save your energy, I'm not doing it."

"How can you reject such a rewarding opportunity? Have you seen what they are willing to pay?" Razir gave a PADD to Brek. “It would be a sin to reject such an offer!”

"The part is yours if you want it Razir, and good luck with those sharks. Didn’t I ask for a complete report on Tobor, a while back? Where is it?” Brek asked, searching for the illusory file among the various PADDs stacked on his desk.

"I’m on it, your excellency, but if you’ll allow me to insist, this media channel only wants the Grand Proxy. Nobody wants to see an average Ferengi. Those are everywhere and too common."

Brek glanced at Razir’s PADD, and he scoffed, both at the indecently attractive money on offer, and the terms and conditions written in traditional minuscule letters.

“Nope.” He added. “Not going to happen. I am not showing my mug while having breakfast, lunching with a dignitary, or while enjoying an evening snack at the venue that would sponsor this freak show. I’m also not granting them the right to use what images would be filmed of me, for further marketing ploys. This would likely mean that my big ears would appear on products like laxatives or.. or worse... Are you a genuine certified moron, Razir, or are you just trying to annoy me?”

“Grand Proxy, I would never...” Razir started, disconcerted. “It’s just that the money they’d pay is so good. All of us at the embassy, we would be able to live like royalty. Which, as Ferengis, is our right, isn’t it?”

Brek took a deep breath, and counted to five, so as to keep his calm.

“Listen to me carefully, Razir. You want that money? Sell your own image, not mine. But know that if this leads to this embassy being ridiculed, I’ll see to it that you only become employable within the strict limits of our homeworld, in some tiny office as close as possible to our great polluted rivers.”

Razir sniffed. “Just as I thought, Grand Proxy. You are nice with everyone, except us at the embassy.”

“Out, Razir, I’ve had enough.”

..................................
Grand Proxy Brek
Ferengi Embassy
Poseidon Station

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