SIM:Back To 118

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Back To 118

((New Scotland – Hotel Gleanagles – Royal Lochnagar Suite))


::For all the silks, fine woods and delicious scents that abounded in her suite, Ara was in a foul mood. She couldn't complain about the sitting room, guest bathroom or master bedroom, leading to a relaxation area, nor the walk-in dressing room or the master bathroom; but she could certainly moan about the underfloor heating! Her feet, which had since long lost their grace, had been made worse by this diabolical invention. She would sue the hotel for this inconvenience. Not because she needed the money, but to break her dull routine.::


Ara: oO I bet younglings haven't got a clue what old age is all about. It's not enough that your body will embarrass you at the slightest opportunity, you've also got to be plagued with a prevalent boredom. Oo


::After much grumbling, Ara made it, very slowly, to the sitting room, where she sat in front of what was supposed to be her breakfast. It consisted of a mixture of beans, sausages of various sorts, something that looked like an egg, (only it was flat), and by the smell of it, some pork. Amazingly enough, in that plate, there was enough food for five persons.::


Ara: ::Looking up at her regular henchman.:: What's that?


Lundberg: Full Scottish breakfast, Ara. Very nutritious. You should give it a try.


Ara: I'd rather eat raw tripe than this odd assortment. Bring me my usual snail soup. You know I won't digest anything else so early in the morning.


::Lundberg was about to comply, when there was a soft knock at the door. He went to answer, and in barged a colorful Ferengi character, sporting an outrageous green and yellow tartan suit, and carrying a large suitcase. He paused in front of Ara, arms wide open, wanting to give her a friendly hug, but the old Ferengi woman didn't move.::


Ara: That won't be necessary, Narkat. I assume you are here on business?


::Narkat, thirty years her junior, was renowned for trying all kinds of tortuous schemes that never worked. That made him highly entertaining to listen to, especially when the point of hitting him with a refusal was imminent.::


Narkat: I see you haven't lost your excellent flair, Ara. ::He sat down in front of her, and, with a large sweeping movement, he put his suitcase on the table, almost knocking the Scottish food on the floor. He then opened it, so that the contents were only visible to him.:: I have purchased a fair number of this amazing device, that I'm trying to place, judiciously, of course, on the market.


::Ara observed him as he unpacked what turned out to be a banal make-up mirror, with the ridiculous slogan 'for a more beautiful you' written on its stupid box.::


Narkat: Now, I know it's hard to believe. But inside this ordinary mirror is a miniature camera, which can record everything that their owner says. Think of all the secrets and confidences that could be stolen this way! The opportunities for blackmail are truly endless! ::With a large smile.::How many of them do you want?


Ara: ::With an equally large smile.:: Zero. This sort of business is too risky for me, and demands the sort of contacts that I don't have.


::Narkat stared at her as if she had spoken backward and in Klingon. When he had recovered, he added:  ::


Narkat: Yes, of course, what was I thinking!? I didn't explain myself properly. I meant to offer those to your grandson. The one who's in diplomacy. Whatsisname... Brek. Now, imagine: by giving this amazing mirror to dignitaries, all their thoughts would be known to him.


Ara: You would risk my grandson's career for some paltry profits?!


Narkat: Not at all! Besides, he is protected by his diplomatic immunity, is he not? Let's be honest one second here. We are talking zero risk for him.


Ara: ::With a sigh.:: I have to say, this whole palaver was less amusing than I expected, Narkat. I must ask you to leave. My grandson is out there in space, travelling to distant places; doing everything he can to avoid me. ::Here she managed to shed a tear that glided down her cheek.:: Please, leave me alone, now.


Narkat: ::Looking at her, puzzled.:: You haven't heard, have you? The Excalibur is scheduled to return to Starbase 118 for a shore leave. I heard it from a bloke who works for Ops. That's the very reason why I'm here with this business idea. All you have to do is...


::But Ara wasn't listening anymore. She had sprung to her feet, and was now walking as briskly as she could towards another room.::


Ara: Lundberg! Pack our stuff! We are going back to 118! Feed our guest if you feel generous, otherwise kick him out.


::Once in her bedroom, she stood there, feeling both excited and lost. Returning to the Starbase was one thing, making sure that she wouldn't get separated from Brek, quite another...::


tbc


PNPC Ara (Brek’s Grandmother)

PNPC Lundberg (Ara’s Terran henchman)

PNPC Narkat (Ferengi swindler)


as simmed by:


Lt Cmdr Brek

Chief Diplomatic Officer

USS Excalibur A