Headaches

[MrDrankum 0]

HEADACHES

An Ambassador Drankum Profitable Production

Copyright © 2009, Drankum, LLC.

 

 

It had been three days since the station had held the unannounced drill. Three days since it had taken more than eight minutes for divisions to inform operations they were ready. Of course, that was assuming the divisions had reported at all. For the surprised look on junior Lieutenant Porter's face was all the Ferengi had needed to see. The humon was a manager without anyone to manage.

 

The one hundred and ninety-fourth Rule of Acquisition stated that it is always good business to know about new customers before they walk in your door. This was the basis for the drill, the justification and confirmation for what he already knew. In his service over the years, the Ferengi had witnessed the scenario before. The issue here was that it was not his problem.

 

For all the comments the humons had made since his assignment, all the jokes at his expense, Drankum had first noticed this trait aboard Aegis last year. In the midst of the posturing and debate leading to the facility's move, a common theme seemed to be presented. It was one the Ferengi had been accused of in fact by his female rebel leading these people at the time. He had privately hoped it was a momentary glitch, a defect caused by the situation. Since his return, the facts had suggested otherwise. The drill only proved it.

 

Arrogance.

 

The vast majority of those aboard the station had become arrogant in their belief they were capable. This had clearly led to a degree of laziness and the more dangerous complacency. None were profitable, none would be good when running a business and deadly in their current environment.

 

Now, sitting alone in the suite he had occupied for almost a decade, Drankum sipped the purple colored liquid in his glass and looked to the stars. Did the humons understand the ramifications of moving this facility? Aegis was no longer hours away from getting aide. It was no longer a port in the midst of an urban metropolis, but an outpost in the vastness of the unknown. The arrogance may have been justified before, but was it now?

 

The Ferengi looked across the room to his left and looked at a case sitting on the metal desk. Drankum stood and with a grunt started to cross the distance. Caneless at the moment, he finally realized it around three in the morning according to the station's computer. It was kind of funny to think about that, time itself seemed more relative when not near a planet. He refocused on slid into the chair behind his destination.

 

A standard security briefcase, the item he was interested in was dark gray in color. It was new and measured no more than half the length of his arm. The front bore a silver tinted seal displaying a representation of the Aegis mission patch. The case itself had been given to Drankum before he left Earth, containing within what most profitable species would consider the critical points of information about the facility. A few taps and a thumb print released the lock, revealing an interior with numerous digital clipboards secured in different pockets.

 

The one he was interested in was exactly where expected. Drankum held it at eye level and leaned back in the chair. How would they get this right if they could not get a simple alert correct?

 

Headaches were just beginning.