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Sorehl

Naked Women and Progress

Based on the second-half of the 02/15/08 Aegis sim, with many thanks to Drankum, Brown, Joy, McKinney, and Lepage...

 

Cane in hand, Ambassador Drankum swept through the Aegis Lower Midway with an entourage – two female Risan escorts, the station’s XO, and a Vulcan Commissioner – in his wake. Beyond the viewport that lined the level, his personal luxury cruiser Canar’s Plunder could be seen docked with the station. The Ferengi glanced back toward the Vulcan. “It was... nice to hear from you over subspace,” he confided, “though at the time, I was in the midst of a full body...well, I can explain the details later.”

 

“Yes,” Sorehl nodded, clearing his throat, “I saw the holo-recording.”

 

Drankum broke into laughter as the group crossed the threshold of the bar bearing his name. “Patty!” he yelled. “Drinks! Charge them to... I don't care... Charge them to Halloway's account! The number is on file.” He grumbled as he moved toward a prime table and sat with a grunt. His female escorts took a close-proximity stance behind him.

 

Inside the bar, other patrons looked up at the bold entrant. Joy was among the first to detect what she noted as a “mobile ground zero”, while Dr. McKinney pointed out the arrival to her dining companion Dr. Nicholas Lepage.

 

As they moved to a seat, Sorehl glanced toward Commander Brian Brown. “One wonders,” he started, lowering his voice, “if you shouldn't make a station-wide announcement... or at least go to red alert.”

 

Brown returned a glance to the Vulcan who was once his captain, taking a chair. “We still have time.”

 

One of the waitresses set a tray complete with Denebian wine, dark and purple, before him. Drankum looked her over, then the bottle. “This better be 2310. If it isn't, I'll make you go work with the doctors.”

 

At the nearby table, McKinney leaned across her table and whispered something to Lepage.

 

Sorehl sat, sending a gesture of greeting to Ambassador Joy.

 

Drankum noticed at once, looking over towards the android and narrowing his eyes. “Hum. What is the talking food replicator doing here?” He looked toward Brown. “It doesn't eat, does it?” He drifted off in thought. “Suppose I could charge rental fees for taking up the space... hum... that's not a bad idea. Could be profitable.” He shrugged, then glanced at one of the females. “Stop fawning for a moment and write that down. Charge rental space per five minutes.”

 

Sorehl folded his arms. “I’m aware of why she is here, but truth be told, I’m curious about the reasons for your own… unexpected visit.”

 

“Mine?” Drankum answered distractedly as he made a gesture of blowing a kiss, or something like it, towards Joy.

 

For her part, the android’s shade turned decidedly 35% more red.

 

“Is your advent coincidental with the ongoing mission inquiry, or prompted by something other than our earlier communication?” Sorehl pressed on.

 

Drankum absently wondered if Joy had programming like something he’d encountered back on Risa. “Hum,” he began, then looked back to Sorehl. “My ongoing mission is his unprofitable bank account,” he answered, pointed a thumb at Brown. “If any humon bothered to read the contract, they’d know that if this installation is abandoned, the terms of financing make it quite clear the station becomes property of the Ferengi Alliance and only after my government passes on it's use...” He trailed off. “Well, you get the idea. Legal stuff bores me now.” He sipped his drink and smiled at Joy.

 

Brown looked mildly affronted. “Profit is still profit, regardless of the percent increase.”

 

The Vulcan commissioner leaned back in his chair. “Interesting. You are not the only party who has expressed interest in the economic aspect of this station.”

 

Drankum looked back at Sorehl. “Let us not forget, Captain Ears, my government,” he paused, correcting himself, “oh, who is kidding who? I got the financing set up for this little toy in space. Warranty expirations aside, it hasn't been used as it should have been.”

 

Sorehl steepled his fingers in a double ta'al triangle, listening.

 

But Drankum's was not a one-track mind. He had already turned back toward Joy, giving her a wink. “Yes,” he went on, “I can tell now. It might not be real, but I beg it can give a mean...” He stopped himself, looking back to the Vulcan. “What was I saying?”

 

“Something about foreclosure, I suspect,” was the even response.

 

Commander Brown felt he’d found a place to jump in. “Aegis is going to be seeing that usage, though. We still have serious problems on Cardassia, and some old Starfleet elements aren’t helping.”

 

Drankum looked toward Brown. “Problems on Cardassia?” he said with as much incredulity as he could muster. “Don't tell me, my young humon, this shocks you somehow. The Cardassians have been in problems for five of your decades. Outside of increasing their GDP for a brief period of time, not much has come of it.”

 

He continued. “My reason for being here is simple. I didn't bribe someone enough and Grand Nagus Rom requested I, again, interrupt my retirement to deal with the unprofitable Cardassian issue. Apparently it is causing problems on the stock exchange.”

 

Brown shrugged. “No shock to me. However, anyone can see the current situation is not good for business. War is good for business, yes, but not when they are trying to kill you.”

 

“I trust then,” Sorehl pursued, “you have designs of your own to remedy this... inequity?

 

But the Ferengi proprietor had shifted his gaze, and attention again. “What is it's name anyway?”

 

Sorehl glanced between the two. “Have you not been introduced to Ambassador Joy Two?” He stood to remedy the situation.

 

“I wonder if it’s hands ever get tired,” Drankum pondered aloud. “The possibilities...” He looked toward Brown. “Endless.”

 

The Vulcan commissioner waved the android towards them, fully aware that Joy's diplomatic aplomb would be needed in full form for this introduction. “Ambassador Joy One of Mudd, allow me to introduce you to Ambassador Drankum of Ferenginar and the Canar Trade Mission.”

 

Joy looked as poised and graceful as ever. “Charmed,” she offered. “Somewhat.”

 

Drankum stood slowly, eschewing his cane, and smiled. “I know the wealth of what you see can be overpowering, but remember, things get better with age.”

 

Brown had stood at Joy’s approach. He leaned in towards Sorehl. “Was he always this stubborn?”

 

“Incorrigible,” the Vulcan confirmed.

 

Drankum tilted his head. “Did Captain Ears mention I helped establish this facility? Or that I founded the Canar Trade Route?”

 

Sorehl gestured to the open seat, nodding. “Your reputation has well preceeded you, Drankum.”

 

The Ferengi simply grinned. “And I know I have bribed enough people to make it a good one.”

 

“It is no understatement to say that, without you, Aegis would not exist,” Sorehl admitted. “I merely commanded it.”

 

Drankum paused in his pondering of Joy to look back at the Vulcan. “You understate your importance.”

 

The evening could use some understatement, he considered inwardly.

 

Drankum sipped his drink, looking at Joy. “A beverage? I don't know. Do you drink? Eat? Spend?

 

“Drink & spend, yes,” she affirmed. “Water, pure cold.”

 

His eyes lit up. “You spend! Water! The imported stuff!”

 

“That will do.”

 

Drankum looked toward Sorehl. “I am beginning to like this robotic female. Though clothing is something I still have to readjust to.”

 

Sorehl hoped to head off another undiplomatic comment. “When on Aegis...” he let the quote hang.

 

The Ferengi went with a different proverb. “What happens on Aegis, doesn't stay there but can be bribed away.” He shrugged and sipped his drink again. “Ah...home away from the bank vault.”

 

“A unique perspective,” but one perhaps the captain will share.

 

“The clothed reformist female? Bah. More liquor. Damn kids and their unprofitable ideas...and clothes.”

 

“Fresh minds, fresh ideas, Ambassador,” Sorehl chided.

 

“Went up and ruined a perfectly good thing,” he muttered, swirling the last of his drink. “Fresh minds should be sent into a supernova. I liked the galaxy with naked woman. What is wrong with that?” He practically got to his feet. “It is the universal accepted diplomatic benchmark. Want to make progress? Bring in naked females! Progress immediately!” He shrugged and finished the last swallow. “I do not see the problem.”

 

At the table next to them, McKinney nearly choked on her food. Lepage was leaning over to see if she needed help. She stifled a laugh, patting her chest, “Not only did we get lunch, we got a stage show.”

 

“You should have met M'lord Mudd,” Joy . “You would have gotten along.”

 

“I suspect your definition of progress may also be unique.”

 

Drankum looked at Sorehl. “Unique, yes. Wrong? I shall allow history to be the judge. After all, it is written by the person with the best will.” He turned toward Brown, who’d been listening to the banter. “Isn't it past your bedtime?”

 

“You'll have to forgive Mr. Drankum, Commander,” Sorehl counseled. “He cannot see authority without challenging it.”

 

The Ferengi looked non-plussed, looking from the commissioner to XO and back to the commissioner. “Forgive nothing, Captain Ears. He is as interested in naked females as anyone.”

 

“Ambassador,” Brown asserted, sitting more upright in his chair, “its the one trait I am not ashamed of.”

 

The Vulcan leaned back, considering the energetic conversation between Ferengi, android, and human. Such energies were just what was needed. Progress, indeed.

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Drankum had returned to Aegis.

 

Although the Ferengi ambassador had explained the motivations for his arrival as being purely financial, Sorehl was well aware that Drankum knew the Federation was assessing the station’s mission and its future role. Indeed, as one of his first acts as commissioner, he had specifically sent an employee of the Secretariat to track down the retired proprietor and seek out his opinions and insights. That search had been successful; it seemed the questions had piqued his comrade’s interest.

 

An officious young Bolian had been tasked to find the Ferengi liaison amidst his wanderings. Sorehl had provided a personal recording that he hoped would allow him to gain an audience, as well as cautions to the interviewer regarding Drankum’s “excess of personality.”

 

The questioner had caught up with the Ferengi during an indulgent spa retreat at what appeared to be a clothing-optional resort. It would take some editing before the holo-recording could be added to the public record.

 

A brave sort, the Bolian had played Sorehl’s greeting, then posed the questions exactly as dictated.

 

Offscreen, the voice asked, “The continuing mission of Sky Harbor Aegis has entered public debate. Do you feel that you have contributed directly to this mission?”

 

The recording showed a somewhat flustered Drankum. Whether it was the question, the tropical sun, or the spa “treatment” was unclear. “Of
course
I contributed directly to it!” he spouted loudly. “What a stupid question. Are you insane? I underwrote the profitable document that put the station in orbit! Without me there wouldn't be an Aegis!” His voice dropped to a mutter. “Did I contribute directly... who is your superior anyway?”

 

A little less certain, the Bolian continued. “What do you feel has been your most significant contribution or Aegis' greatest success toward this mission?”

 

“The station still has
financing
, does it not?” Drankum answered dismissively. “Individuals are still
paid
, are they not? I rest my case.” He leaned in to the towel one of his Risan escorts was patting against his forehead.

 

“Why do you think the Cardassians have been unable to form a stable government eight years after the cessation of hostilities?” came the next question.

 

“Oh,” he hissed, wrapping one hand around a moist, dripping glass, “we knew they wouldn't have a stable government for
decades
. Any humon or humon wannabe that says otherwise has been drinking too much.” As if to emphasize that point, he took a healthy gulp from his own beverage. “The entire goal was to put oversight in the sky over the Cardassians to ensure they didn't try to cause another war. It has happened throughout history and when it hasn't, very... deadly... things have been the result.” He set down the glass, wiping his mouth gently. “Was it the most ‘sentient friendly’ thing? No, but business, politics, and war rarely are.” He smiled at someone offscreen and waved them over.

 

“Um,” the Bolian went on, “would you agree with elements who suggest Aegis has finished or failed its mission and should pull out from Cardassian space? Could its mission be performed elsewhere or by non-military assets?”

 

Drankum smiled as he clasped a delicate set of feminine hands in his own. “I would wager that depends on what you define the Aegis mission as being, no? And how exactly could you keep your eye on the purse strings and bank accounts if you aren't in a place to see everything that is going on? Hum? What a boring question.” He sat up suddenly. “I am getting paid for this, am I not?”

 

The Bolian opted not to answer, or simply didn’t know how to. He pressed on. “What, if anything, can be gained by Aegis' continued presence near Cardassia Prime? What should its remaining priorities, if any, be?”

 

With a groan, Drankum issued his opinion, “Nothing has changed and what priorities there were remain... not to mention the fact that relocating Aegis would quite possibly be in violation of several different treaties and put the Ferengi Alliance in position to demand the return of the physical facility for our own use.” A smile played uncertainly across his features. “But I'm sure Starfleet hasn't read the fine print or thought that future forward. They were so profitable at doing that in the past.”

 

The final question seemed to restore the Bolian’s confidence, as if the finish line was in sight. “In your opinion, Ambassador,” he asked, “do the Cardassians favor Aegis' continued presence, ignore it, or object to it as a foreign incursion? Should the Cardassians have a voice in whether Aegis remains in their space?”

 

The Ferengi liaison frowned a little, summoning another female companion over. “As unprofitable as it is to say, does the rest of the quadrant actually care about public opinion?” He waved one hand in the air. “Well, I guess for some they do. Balance sheets are so much easier to understand. The Cardassians do have a voice... it's called attacking and causing another conflict. While good for business, wasn't exactly the point. Again, a crazy question.” He leaned in towards the holo-recorder. “Who exactly hired you anyway?” Drankum then shifted himself and his towel into a position that would require careful editing to maintain decorum.

 

The recording ended with a UFP symbol and timestamp.

 

Perhaps a transcript would be sufficient for the public record, Sorehl considered. He had been particularly interested to learn that Drankum’s personal luxury liner had left port shortly after the interview with an outbound flight plan for the Canar Trade Mission. It was a logical conclusion that such a path would bring him to Cardassia, which had proven true.

 

Their conversation in Drankum’s self-named bar had been both enlightening and enlivening. Although he had not been drawn into such emotionalism, Sorehl could sense the palpable effect the Ferengi’s advent had amongst the crew. Tension eased. People smiled. Ambassador Joy Two was already suggesting that his presence could help heal diplomatic rifts she’d perceived.

 

Drankum had returned to Aegis. What would Aegis return to?

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Drankum had returned to Aegis.

 

 

Drankum had returned to Aegis. What would Aegis return to?

 

 

 

Just wanted to say how much I've enjoyed this series of logs...I may be able to stop laughing by this time next week. :wub:

 

Congratulations to Sky Harbor Aegis on the return of both Sorehl and Drankum, two of the most illustrious characters the sim has ever known. I suspect your life on Aegis will never be the same. :rolleyes:

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