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::Brek contemplated his large office with delight. It confirmed what he had always known deep within himself: the size of a desk did matter. This even if you subsequently covered it with junk, it was there, massive, in the middle of the room. It offered a layer of protection between his bureaucratic world, and the forever scheming galaxy.::
::He sat behind his desk, and was reminded of the very first 'desk' attributed to him. He had been but a youngling back then. A 18 year old who had believed that everything written in textbooks was true…::
((Flashback, 10 years ago, FenixCorps Mining Operation, Administrative Building))
::The word `Corps' had led Brek to imagine a thriving operation, but everything around him looked shabby and small, even for someone like him, often referred to as being vertically challenged. He wasn't in a building, but inside a simple shack. One where thermal and sound insulation had been reduced to their bare minimum.::
::After wandering a bit, he found a room that was lit, and walked towards it. From its threshold, he observed the occupants: there was a woman, whose features were partly blocked out by a hallo of bluish smoke. A bulky man with a surprisingly small head, and under the screen that they were watching, stood a large black rug. He later discovered that this was a proper living creature. Something impressive called an Irish wolfhound.::
Brek: ::Clearing his throat.:: Excuse me, I wonder if you could help me? My name is Brek and I am the new financial analyst. I'm looking for my office.
::The woman was instantly on her feet. She removed the stub from her mouth and examined him from head to toe. She had icy blue eyes and red hair that had mostly turned white.::
Woman: The new bookkeeper you mean? Don't start putting on airs here. All you're going to do is balance figures the way the boss wants. Anyway, what's your story? You look incredibly young to end up in this pit. What are you running from?
Brek: I am not running from anything, this is my first proper job. The first time I am my own man, if you prefer.
Woman: ::She produced a little laugh that didn't look sympathetic at all.:: I don't prefer anything, and you don't look like the fastest subprocessor in the panel, Mr Brek, if this is your idea of freedom. I am Mrs Wilander, and this is Spud. ::She indicated her companion.:: We call him this way because he has never been the same since his accident in the mine. So he just helps around, as best he can, these days.
Spud: ::Looking at Brek with an inane grin plastered on his face.:: Break, Broke, Broken.
Wilander: Don't mind him, Mr Brek. Little things please little minds, as the saying goes. I will show you to your er… office.
::t wasn't an office, merely a cell: the place where he would work, sleep and eat for the next 6 months. His workplace, which consisted of a crude table and chair were just two Ferengi steps away from his equally dismal bed.::
Wilander: Before I forget, there are two rules here. First: men don't cry.
Brek: ::Interrupting her absentmindedly, repeating words he had learnt by heart during his childhood.:: Unless it's profitable.
Wilander: ::Casting down a cold stare at him.:: No, they don't. If you ever try the sympathy card with me, I'll make you regret it. No one forced you to join us, so don't start whimpering. Secondly: never explore this facility beyond the admin level. Our workforce likes fresh meat, and I don't think they care much what species the `meat` is. So, you be careful.
::Careful he had been, to the point of being afraid of his own shadow. Three days after his arrival, everyone was already calling him The Rodent.::
((End Flashback))
::Brek let these unpleasant souvenirs dissipate from his mind, and focused his attention on his computer. A red icon in the message box indicated that something had been flagged. Checking on it, he discovered that it had to do with the crew manifest. There had been some serious movements today. SB118 was now graced with a new FO, Cmdr Breeman was CEO once more, and they had also acquired another engineer. You can never have enough of those when you live in space.::
::Calling their respective profile, his thoughts lingered on Lt Walker's picture. She sure looked formidable. It wasn't her hairstyle that impressed him the most, thought, but the fact that her father had been an Ambassador.::
::He also called Vreeya's file and compared the two. In his opinion they represented the opposite ends of the Romulan spectrum. The first one looked dangerous in an avant-garde way, while the second one was equally dangerous, but in a more venerable manner.::
::Beyond all these considerations, curiosity, as well as duty too of course, dictated that he at least introduced himself to Cmdr Kells.::
tbc
Lt Brek
Chief Diplomatic Officer
SB118/USS Victory
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