One Segment

[MrDrankum 0]

ONE SEGMENT

An Ambassador Drankum Profitable Production

Copyright © 2011, Drankum, LLC.

 

 

The journey had taken much longer than he had expected. Then again, he hadn’t made this trip in awhile. Truth be told, this particular Ferengi had spent more time away from his home world than on it. The sad reality was that he actually despised the place. The average temperature was not exactly freezing but nothing you would find on Risa. The fact that it rained ninety percent of the time didn’t help things. If it wasn’t for all the latinum, one might call the place a swamp or cesspool. Then again, many had…and they weren’t just talking about the landscape.

 

Drankum himself had not held a residence at the jewel of the Ferengi Alliance in almost fifty years. Prior to the opening of his bar thirteen years ago, he had spent extended time at the center of all things humon…Earth. Formal diplomatic relations between the Federation and the Ferengi had always been complicated, although the war had likely changed some perceptions. It was amazing to realize that in the past two decades, Drankum had only physically set foot on Fereginar three times. Once had been during the negotiations for the Ferengi Trade Route in the Canar System, one during the early stages of the Cardassian redevelopment efforts and the final during what almost became the next galactic war several years ago. At the conclusion of that trip, he had sworn he was never coming back.

 

His reasons for the statement were more complicated than many realized. While of course he had an appreciation for all things latinum, the short aged figure had paid the necessary bribes and worked the required duties to generate a handsome profit for himself. He wasn’t the type who walked around with sixteen Dabo girls trailing him, rather this Ferengi was part of the small breed of his species who actually sought to generate wealth through other things. In this area, despite what the Rules of Acquisition said, wealth was not always hard currency.

 

Ambassador Drankum had implemented a plan for the later years of his life. It was designed to bring him comfort and continued dabbling in the occasional diplomatic grandstanding someone of his experience would expect. This plan had held together for two years before things called Aegis twisted it. Despite giving him permanent leg damage almost a decade ago, he was taken towards new opportunities he had not sought. Placement in directions previously unthought-of occurred. They had earned him a great deal of accomplishment, not only for his own government but what he hoped were others as well. The Ferengi Trade Route in the Canar System continued to flourish at the site of the first facility called Aegis, with a small percentage of the profits remaining a sustainable income source for all involved…including him of course. His business had expanded and his role during the war had presented many unique challenges.

 

Yet his legacy had been what he thought was his last undertaking: an orbital complex constructed above Cardassia Prime that was designed to be an international resource for the region. Sky Harbor Aegis had been a bore to see through, the logistical headaches could still be felt ten years later. Drankum has anticipated full retirement shortly after, that hadn't happened. While he had been forced to represent his government’s interests about three years ago, what most had not understood was the great expense the entire event had been to the figure most blamed for it. Then he had been dragged into a title he had never actually desired and there was no way of bribing his way out if.

 

For each accomplishment or task, Drankum had been forced to use a dwindling supply of leverage in an ever changing Ferengi society. The fact was, the elder figure was something of a relic and an anomaly since almost all others had moved to enjoy the fruits of their labors instead of still laboring. The incident over Cardassia had been a clash on Fereginar between a newer generation seeking to test their roots against those with experience would had bribed enough people to know better. Betting pools had gotten it right and the later had one: while war was good for business, peace was preferred. The cost of this accomplishment however had been many giving one final effort that ended their careers. To expense capital to maintain control of the situation was nothing new, such was the nature of a purely capitalist society. Even with recent reforms, the Ferengi were still the Ferengi.

 

Now, Drankum had been on Fereginar for weeks. His abrupt departure from Aegis had been necessary. He had seen these warning signs before. The problem was, most of the others who had were either dead, busy getting a massage on Risa or too involved in their own problems to realize it. It was the price of a youthful administration running things. The signs had been there before but it had taken several well placed calls and, once again, the exhaustion of several favors to get…nothing.

 

Nothing meant something to a Ferengi, especially to a diplomat.

 

It meant that this wasn’t another case of a rogue Damon running some operation inside a nebula. There had been enough of those profiteering fools in the past two decades that even a Vulcan would be shocked. As hard as it was to admit, the absence of direct oversight by the FCA wasn’t always a good thing. Sure, you could bribe your way out of a jam, but sometimes there wasn’t enough latinum on Dufour to cover up the crime.

 

So he had left Aegis to get his answer. Before leaving, Drankum had suspected the outcome of this one last inquiry. Standing on the Aegis midway, being barraged by unprofitably annoying inquiries from a certain Romulen, the Ferengi had glanced up and see the darkened second pylon. He had remembered his thoughts while aboard the humon starship months earlier when it seemed the facility was to be lost forever. The galaxy was full of irony: the chapter was coming to an end the same way it had started.

 

His arrival on Fereginar and subsequent “conversations” had only reaffirmed the resolve. After several days of pilfering, it had been difficult to accept the answers he was getting. While many viewed diplomatic and political escapades as a game of humon poker, today Drankum preferred the game of chess. The board he found himself playing on was nothing what he expected. His initial moves had been almost disastrous, the fact it had taken this long to get something of an edge back was probably a sign of age.

 

Yet Drankum had started to once again manipulate forces to suit his desires. After days of belligerent bribes, shakedowns and all forms of diplomacy: the pieces were finally starting to move. However even those involved were initially unable to determine the endgame. That was, of course, part of the plan. If this was going to be the last time he did this, why not do it with some style?

 

A minister within one of the more influential banking branches had been the linchpin. Most would have been required to follow a trail, Drankum simply used his second to last bit of leverage. Once the negotiation was underway, it was clear that the youth of today have no idea how to conduct a meeting or how not to spew. To force the cogs of the modern Ferengi system to move was to put the system at odds with itself. It was going to be necessary though.

 

A segment of the Ferengi government were providing resources to the Tjurakh.

 

They were somehow involved in what was going on. They were the suppliers.

 

And the other segment of the Ferengi government was about to find out.