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((Diplomatic Corps, Brek`s Quarters, Starbase 118))
::It was 07.00 and Brek was crunching on dry cereals (he liked the sound it made), when the call from Ferenginar came.::::
Vekkor: =/\= Hello son. Life seems to be treating you well. Although I think there is nothing like a good rain to keep your mind sharp. Is your mind sharp? =/\=
::Brek blinked. Not only did he not recognize his own father, the décor behind him looked like a Klingon's lair, with its black and bright red tapestries. This said, it looked expensive, so in a way, it was all right.::
Brek: =/\= There is nothing wrong with my mind. =/\=
Vekkor: =/\= So I see, since you have finally decided to respect the family's code. The first thing I want you to do is to put a stop to the increasing intrusions of my pesky wife. Females and finances, they don't mix, everybody but them apparently, knows that. She is going to ruin everything, and I can't spend my time spying on her. Even just today I have no less than 10 appointments with prospective buyers! =/\=
Brek: ::Reciting something he had discovered the previous night, while doing some researches.:: =/\= You inherited the family's business from Ara's line a few months after you got married. So her interest in your finances isn't entirely illegitimate. Moreover, I have noticed a quite a few… oddities… in the way you conduct this business. =/\=
Vekkor: ::With a smile that looked more like a grimace.:: =/\= Come on son! You know how it is. The market is volatile, shares fluctuate and trade partners change. =/\=
Brek: =/\= There is a shorter term for this: bad investments. =/\=
Vekkor: =/\= Which is why I requested your ass… ::He coughed.:: Sorry about that… assistance. As is my right as the family's head. =/\=
Brek: =/\= That's fine, as long as you don't exploit me. I am taking the ongoing rate as your personal finance advisor, plus bonuses. =/\=
Vekkor: =/\= This is not what I had in mind. =/\=
Brek: =/\= But this is what you'll get. =/\=
Vekkor: ::After thinking it over for a few minutes.:: =/\= All right. Every man has his price. But you had better deliver, young man, or I'll be suing you for incompetence! =/\=
Brek: =/\= We all do what we have to. Now, if you don't mind I have a long day ahead of me, sorting out your mess. =/\=
Vekkor: =/\= Of course. Time, like latinum, is a highly limited commodity. Have a good day.=/\=
Brek: =/\= Goodbye. =/\=
::Brek stared at the blank screen for a while. He had dreaded this conversation; had even had a few nightmares about it throughout his adult life. Yet it had gone fine. He had not felt intimidated or resentful because of a past devoid of any family souvenirs. It just showed that in life, things were easier without any attachments. As he had once heard on one of his numerous journeys: happiness was good health and a bad memory.::
((Time wrap - 19.20))
::Brek was as happy as a pig in shit, engulfed in absorbed costs, horizontal integration and other such goodies. The living area had never been so chaotic, with countless PADDs, screens and holo-displays scattered everywhere on the floor and furniture. He could have continued like this for the rest of the day, but his alarm sounded, reminded him of the meet and greet at 20.00.::
::Although it wasn't a formal meeting, he had an idea everyone would be dressed smartly. He remembered the impressive garments Cmdr Breeman had worn on a similar occasion at the beginning of the year.::
oO Got to wear something decent… Oo
::He opened every drawer, rummaged through clothes he didn't even remember having. Some of them even smelled a bit iffy and he threw them on the floor.::
oO Will deal with them later… Oo
::He grabbed a pair of black jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt with a supposedly funny quote written on it:
A Diplomat is a person who divides his time between running for office and running for cover.
Now if he rushed, he just had enough time for a quick shower, the sonic type. Any form of rain made him feel nauseous.::
Lt Brek
Chief Diplomatic Officer
SB118/USS Victory
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