Profit & Possibilities

Posted on 25 May 2015 @ 1:50pm by Lieutenant Xanth

1,594 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: M13-B: The Big Goodbye
Location: Quark's Casino, Deep Space Nine
Timeline: 0140 Hours

"I'll leverage the buy-in at thirteen strips," Xanth said, tossing his latinum into the pot at the center of the Tongo wheel. "And sell at twenty-three."

The Ferengi clustered around the table peered at him with dark, suspicious eyes as the wheel began to spin again. It was rare that they allowed an alien to sit at this table and play this game with them, but there had been something about this young Starfleet officer that had almost screamed to them about easy-latinum.

"Silly hu-mon, you reach for too much too fast," hissed one of them at Xanth. "I'll buy at sixteen, sell at twenty-one." He merely smiled, and didn't correct them on the assumption about his race. The Ferengi might have big ears, but his were better when it came to picking up on subtle cues and hints. As an El-Aurian, a Listener as they were called, Xanth could easily tell that this was just false bravado.

The game proceeded around the table, with each player driving the pot higher and higher. An untouched glass of ale sat at Xanth's left hand, a fact that the Ferengi hadn't failed to notice themselves. Getting an eager young officer drunk so he made mistakes wasn't against the rules, after all, but he'd not taken a single sip since the game began. That made some of them more wary than they had been before.

As he awaited his turn, keeping one eye on the game, Xanth thought about his upcoming assignment on the USS Achilles. It was almost always on his mind, ever since he'd received his orders and left the Abraham behind. The opportunity was a great one, one that Xanth was still surprised that he had been given the chance to persue. Even after fifty-four years spent around humans, they still had the capacity to surprise him, and in a way he'd be sorry to leave behind the Alpha Quadrant because of it. At least there would be plenty of humans on the Achilles and her sister ships as they made their slow way deep into the Gamma Quadrant.

"Index the margin at seventeen, and sell at twenty-six," cackled one of the barmen. His friends slapped his shoulders with feigned good-humour, but Xanth could tell how unhappy they were at their companion's fortune.

And Xanth would be piloting the ship that lead the small fleet! That thought brought a small, enigmatic smile to his handsome face, and set the Ferengi into further fidgeting. The Ascension Class starship was a massive feat of engineering, and it would be the largest ship he'd ever flown. At nearly one and a half kilometers long, and half a kilometer wide, and massing in at over 10 million tons, there would be no tight turns or flashy maneuvers with this ship. No, she would need a light touch at the helm, and Xanth was certain that he was up to the challenge.

"Acquire, and I will convert my resources," Xanth said as the wheel had spun back to him, taking a small amount out of the pot with his advantage, exchanged two cards for those that lay face-down before him. Nothing showed on his face still except that slight and mysterious smile. The wheel turned, it's chimes echoing through the empty casino.

It was a shock that he'd been tapped for this job, however. With so many pilots in the Fleet wanting a chance to take the helm of Starfleet's massive new capital ship, the competition had been fierce. Dozens of candidates had put forward their applications, from the newly minted and cocky pilots straight out of the Academy, to seasoned veterans with decades of experience behind them. Starfleet had decided on Lieutenant Xanth, in the end. The young El-Aurian was still unsure as to why that was; with eleven years in Starfleet, he was of middling seniority, and his career advancement sometimes lagged behind other pilots. He did have an impressive list of vessels he was qualified to fly, however, and years spent as a scientist as well might have something to do with it.

"Evade," said one of the Ferengi with a sigh, and glared at Xanth as if he might have personally caused the temporary setback.

This was all so exciting to him. A chance to explore, to see parts of the galaxy that no one in the Federation had ever been to before. There would hopefully be plenty of chances for him to join an away team, and with his botanist skills Xanth expected that was likely. He was less enthusiastic that his impressive handling of a phaser might be called upon someday; with a level of training and accuracy unseen except amongst the very best shots in both Starfleet and the Marine Corps, that too seemed likely. Just as he could pilot a massive starship with fluidity and grace, so too did he wield such a weapon when the need arose, and Xanth was not so naive to think that this mission of exploration would be entirely without it's violent risks.

"Index the exchange at twenty," said another, "and sell at thirty-nine." The stakes were getting higher, and the greed on the Ferengi's faces was plain to see. The Tongo wheel spun, and beeped, while the latinum stack in the bowl at the center clattered with music all of it's own.

There were other things to be concerned with too. By the time they reached Idran, and the other side of the Bajoran Wormhole, many of Xanth's new colleagues would either be old and retired, or even dead. Seventy years was a long time to these people, though the El-Aurian himself would only just be entering the prime of his life then, barely into his first century. The smile on his lips faded. Even after all these years, it was still a hard fact to accept for Xanth. Whatever friends he made on board the ship would continue their fast-march with entropy.

"Buy at thirty-six, and sell at fifty!" That brought a round of hisses and jeers, as the Ferengi who'd cheered at the massive size of the pot he'd just driven it up to thought he had the game under his blue-nailed thumb.

If, by chance, he even started a romantic relationship while on board - the thought was an idle one; Xanth was still quite young, and had never had any experience in this area before, nor was he apt to rush into it - he would watch someone he deeply cared about wind down and possibly die as well. Other races might envy the El-Aurians for their lifespans, but sometimes, it could be a curse.

At least I will be rich, Xanth mused, a smile returning to his lips, a little broader than the last time. I wonder if other races out there will value latinum as much as the Ferengi. "Confront," he said cheerfully. The cards were laid down on the table, beady eyes peered with voracious delight at this upstart "hu-mon" who was about to lose all his latinum...

"T-T-T-Total M-M-Monopoly?!" several of the Ferengi said in unison, their eyes growing wide and their ears seeming to lay down tight against their orange, multi-lobed skulls.

"Yeah, looks like it," Xanth said, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, giving them a sheepish look. The Ferengi began to toss down their cards in disgust, whining and complaining about how he must have cheated somehow, what ever had they done to upset the Divine Treasury so, and that he was to never come back to wipe them out like this ever again. Xanth chuckled, and began to scoop the money into a satchel, "I'd like to convert my strips to bars, if at all possible. For a reasonable fee, of course." That seemed to quiet them down, and soon enough they began haggling over fees and labour costs.

An hour later, Xanth made his way out of the bar and onto the empty, dim decks of the Promenade, a heavy bag slung over a shoulder that clinked every so often with the sound of gold against gold. At this time, there was hardly anyone out and about; most civilians had long since gone to bed, and the Gamma Shift of officers that served here were all at their stations. The pilot made his way to one of the large viewports, and leaned against the cold, alien curves, staring out at the eternal night.

That night was shattered by the brilliant eruption of swirling colour and energy that was the Bajoran Wormhole opening to allow a ship to pass. A transport vessel, it was returning to the Alpha Quadrant after delivering its goods somewhere. In seventy years, perhaps the very same wormhole would be opening once again, and Xanth would be guiding the Achilles through himself. He smiled again, picturing the future but content to let it play out as it would rather than trying to force it into some vision of how things had to be. Perhaps he'd still be it's pilot, perhaps by then he would be captain, or retired, or maybe he'd not even be on board and had left to satisfy his eternal wanderlust and to explore even stranger places.

Whatever did come, Xanth was certain that it would be a journey of a lifetime, for both him, and the other officers and personnel of the Achilles. The possibilities were endless.

-----

Lieutenant Xanth
CFCO

 

RSS Feed