The Gravy Train

Posted on 09/03/2022 @ 7:02am by
Edited on on 09/03/2022 @ 7:31am

912 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Mini Mission: When The Cat's Away
Location: Brek’s Quarters and Promenade
Timeline: Day 3 - 2000

Brek was rummaging through his possessions. He had, somewhere, an old ceramic vase of the best effect, which he planned to donate to one of his contacts, in exchange for some information on a Ferengi business called Stellar Mining. If he could find the blasted vase and if he were to put some delicate flowers in it, surely it would look grand and very pleasing.

He was about to move a stack of old, long forgotten paintings, when he received a message from the Embassy. Lo and behold: Razir, working late, had developed a new idea. It was his birthday tomorrow (Who knew? Obviously nobody, judging from all the exclamation marks appearing in his lines). And his young attaché wanted to celebrate in style with a scam. His plan was to use money from the Embassy to pretend to order the most expensive cake on the station, and share this lump sum equally between the two of them.

Brek typed a response that also contained a profusion of exclamation marks, pointing out three important facts: First they were not equal. Two: the Embassy’s funds were sacrosanct and shouldn’t be touched by the likes of him. Three: Ferengi, being wise, never celebrated their birthdays.

Ten seconds later another message reached him. This one was icily cold and contained no interjections, making it, by its simplicity, more dangerous. It was from Mrs Moreau and it went as follow:

‘There is a troublesome Ferengi on the promenade. The name is Rapak. Please see to it before it escalates.’

There was no thank you, merci or gracias in that text so Brek was well inclined to ignore the missive. Only that name, Rapak, rang a bell. So he spent the next few minutes making inquiries about it. He had met the man - well, the boy that he used to be - some 30 years ago. How was it that, no matter how fast the universe was expanding, it was always too small??

Moments later Brek barged on the Promenade, in front of a diminutive shop called ‘The Gem Emporium’, open from 0900 to 0000. The storefront had managed to spell its tackiness with garish colours: orange, yellow and brown. There was great power in that bad taste, for he stood there for nearly a minute, staring at it with contempt. He finally got inside - a run-of-the-mill gem shop with as much personality as a dead Horta. He walked to the till, where Rapak stood, looking like whatever he had eaten today, he hadn’t digested it yet.

“Mr Rapak?” Brek asked. “I’m Grand Proxy Brek, from the Ferengi Embassy and I...”

“I know very well who you are. Don’t think I have forgotten!” Rapak interrupted. “What do you want?”
Brek forced himself to smile. “Same as thirty years ago: friendship.” It happened that, all those many years ago, Rapak had terrorized their school with his bullying and pilfering, until he had paid a thug to teach him a lesson. “How’s business? Doesn’t look particularly flamboyant, if you ask me...”

“I don’t suppose you care about the notion of ‘minding your own business’, do you, Grand Proxy?” Rapak said, staring at Brek.

“In my line of business I cannot afford not to mind. And when I mind, then it matters. For instance, I have been told that you have been causing some trouble on this deck.”

“Completely untrue! I bet that Terran female’s been spreading lies again. What’shername from the gallery. I was conducting business. Simple as that.” At long last he stopped staring at Brek and he pretended to rearrange a few items beneath the till. “I saw that wide-eyed ensign willing to spend money. What else could I do, ‘xcept to encourage her?”

“I have no doubt that you did so, beautifully. You are talented that way. But you should know, when you are on Federation territory, Federation rules apply. And, as a Ferengi Ambassador, I like those rules to be respected. What about a little trip?”

“A little trip?” Rapak echoed, looking rather scared now. “What’s that about?”

“Well... I’m proposing something more profitable than what you’ve got here. Everywhere I look, I see dust. Plus your shop is not very engaging. Too dark. I can tell your heart isn't into it.”

“My latinum is. All of it.”

“What a sad story,” Brek added with a sigh. “Listen, Rapak, it’s quite late, and I don’t have all night. Here is my offer: you close shop, be compensated for it, and I’ll employ you. I need to send a consultant on planet Gavara, to monitor a mining company that’s operating over there. You could be my eyes, and my ears.”

“Me? Paid to watch and listen?” He looked dumbfounded.

“And travel, too. You will feel like a Grand Nagus on holiday. Here’s the contract,” Brek added, producing a PADD, which he placed on the till. “Take your time to review it, and send it back to me, signed, if you’re ready to ride the gravy train.”

“That train... I’ve been waiting a long time for it...” Rapak said as he perused the long document.

“Use the night wisely, Rapak,” Brek said, as he made his way out of the shop, leaving the merchant to, hopefully, sign a contract where he would exile himself for five years on a remote planet...

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

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