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[2009: JAN-FEB] Heaving... Inheritance


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(( Tower of Commerce, Ferenginar ))

:: Sat alone in one of the high tower’s cold rooms, Grimp pulled the blanket tighter around his frail form and pressed the button for the next page on the padd. The Rules of Acquisition lay on another padd down by the side of his small stool; lost and forgotten about as he perused through the romance novel, marveling at the imagery. From the first chapter, he was hooked. He loved it. Every twist, every turn, every “curve of the female Vulcan, who walked purposefully up to the door, her heaving buss…”::

:: A short, sharp knock stirred the young one from his book and he threw off the blanket, covering the padd with haste as the door opened, creaking as it did so. The sound of the torrential downpour outside the thick windows only added to the tension in the room as the floorboards groaned underneath the weight of the feet walking across them.::

:: The snarling features of the elder, clad in the ceremonial robes and grinning despite the anxiety the young one held out another set of robes, his head bowed quite deeply. Grimp shook his own head and stood up, making sure the novel was buried underneath the brown blanket.::

Morta: Master…

Grimp: ...Grimp.

:: Revising himself, he replied.:: Morta: Master Grimp… Have you decided on a course of action for the grand nation of Ferenginar? Your father would be very disappointed… eh… if you have neglected your duties.

:: Grimp’s eyes shot down to the novel and back to the Rules of Acquisition. He stooped quickly to pick up the padd and held it out to the groveling Ferengi.::

Grimp: Here.

:: The elder dropped the robes and clamored for the padd, immediately going for the information on it. He looked at Grimp blankly as he thoroughly read the information, coming to a rather dull conclusion.::

Morta: But… But this is blank, Master…

Grimp: …Grimp.

Morta: Master Grimp. ::he sighed:: You have not worked on the revisions we have spoken about.

:: The young man made a face and huffed, sitting back down on the small stool. The rain beat against the glass window pane and the young man grimaced at the cold wind that blew like a howling beast into the small room. He wanted to find out whether the kindly Vulcan teacher had taken the student from…::

Morta: Master…

Grimp: …Grimp.

Morta: Master Grimp; we must present this to the Board of Liquidators who will decide on your appointment as the Grand Naaaaagus.

:: The last part was more of a whine, the kind that small children have when they’re denied ice-cream before bed. Grimp crossed his arms over his chest and took the padd back. He made slight revisions to the already misunderstood rules and handed it back.::

Grimp: It’s simple. You’ll figure it out.

:: With that, he bent down and picked up the blanket from the floor along with his other padd.::

Grimp: I’ve had enough. I’m moving.

:: Morta’s face dropped and he moved to cover the doorway, stopping Grimp from walking out. His twisted grin twisted even further, his head became more sideways and his look more confused then it’d been before. Grimp rolled his eyes upwards and strong armed the elder Ferengi out of the way.::

Morta: But… But… Master!

Grimp: …Grimp.

Morta: Master Grimp!

:: He followed the young Ferengi out of the door and down the corridor, bawling for his attention.::

Morta: Where will you go? What will you do? You cannot survive in the galaxy without your protectors! Who will be Grand Naagus? It is your inheritance!

:: Grimp shrugged his shoulders as he opened the heavy wooden door.::

Grimp: You do it; you’ve got my notes.

Morta: ::screeching:: But Master!

Grimp: … Grimp.

Morta: But Master Grimp! What will you do?!

:: He shrugged again.:: Grimp: Become a Vulcan Romance writer, I suppose. If that fails, I’ll just do fan fiction.

Lt.Cmdr Ethan Brice

Chief of Engineering

USS Independence-A

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