Ensign Natasha Cole - Game or a Shakedown
Natasha Schell
(( Main Mess Hall - Deck 3, USS Artemis-A ))
[[OOC: fixed the missed tags from earlier in the chain, hopefully I didn’t end up missing anyone’s.]]
Natasha had heard some crew members trying to organize a gathering of some of the new crew. Entering into the Main Mess Hall, she immediately noticed that Tho’Bi was trying to back out. She had just had a conversation with him earlier, encouraging him to take the time to relax with other crew members, preferably while clothed. It looked like Mister Meringue was trying to make a break for it.
In all the hustle and bustle he didn’t realize she was right behind him, So she planted herself and waited for him to either run into her or realize.
Tho’Bi: Hey!
Cole: ::Big Smile:: Hi! Were you going to find me? That was very kind of you. ::feigning concern:: You weren’t trying to duck out on the fun where you? ::smile turning to a smirk::
She knew Tho’Bi was going to try and run. If he didn’t learn to relax he was going to burn himself out. She motioned for him to turn and rejoin the group. As she did she noticed a new ensign in red approaching her.
Meris: I am Ensign Meris, helmsperson, and this is Doctor Bancroft. ::again motioning to Roy::
Bancroft: ::extending his hand, bright fake smile:: Roy Bancroft, Ensign, M.D., general nuisance. My friends call me Crashcart. Pleasure to meet you.
Cole: Nice to meet you Ensign Meris, ::making mental note of their specific wording of position:: I’m Ensign Natasha Cole, Security. And I am already familiar with Doctor Crashcart. ::gently nudging his arm::
Roy pointed toward a game table advertising Galaxy-opoly. The board sprawled across the surface, littered with credit chips and plastic starships. A holographic Ferengi banker presided over the board and the chaos.
Bancroft: You ever played that one? It’s the galaxy’s longest-running war of attrition disguised as a board game. The Grok Brothers bought the rights from some ancient Earth company and made it “more engaging.” Which is to say, less about property and more about economic conquest and the occasional hostile takeover.
Cole: It’s nice to see you again Lieutenant K’Wara.
Tho'Bi: ::resigned to his fate:: Yeah, why not.
K’Wara: Come now, Tho’Bi, it’ll be fun.
Bancroft: ::gesturing to the table:: It’s a perfect way to spend three hours and end up friendless and bankrupt.
Meris: ::openly frowning:: That does not sound like an enjoyable way to spend three hours.
Tho'Bi: ::to Meris:: Rule of Acquisition number Fifty Five ::beat:: take joy from profit and profit from joy.
K’Wara: We’re all adults here! ::half-joking tone:: I promise to make no threats of disciplinary duty as the consequence of economic ruin.
Cole: ::sitting down:: So what is the game plan?
Bancroft: Don’t worry – the only real skill you need is the ability to crush hope without blinking. Flipping tables is a bonus.
Meris: Aren't there any nicer games? Ones that help us make friends, rather than lose them?
Tho'Bi: Rule of Acquisition number six ::beat:: Never allow family to stand in the way of profit.
Tho’Bi sat down at the ‘Galaxy-opoly’ table and picked up the ‘USS Enterprise NCC-1701 REFIT’. He had palmed another piece and getly tossed it to Natasha as she had sat down.
Tho’Bi: ::to Cole:: Your weapon of choice!
Cole: Thanks, hope this doesn’t mean I’m predictable.
K’Wara: You joining us?
Bancroft: ::grinning:: Me? Pass up a chance to be financially ruined by a Ferengi? I wouldn’t miss this, el-tee.
Meris: ::nodding:: I’ll be... I’ll be this piece. ::setting CVN-65, the USS Enterprise nuclear-powered aircraft carrier, into play::
It had been awhile since she had last played, but bonding with her crewmates was more interesting then winning, although watching them play could prove to be insightful.
Holo-Ferengi: ::sneering:: No profit to be won in a solo game!
Tho’Bi: ::to the Holo-Ferengi and shrugs:: Rule of Acquisition number one hundred and sixty two ::beat:: even in the worst of times, someone turns a profit.
The Holo-Ferengi howled with delight and clapped his hands together in rapid fashion.
K'Wara: All right, Holo-Grok, set the scene.
Holo-Ferengi: Any likeness to real people, including the illustrious Grok Brothers, is purely coincidental and in no way representative of the Grok Brothers’ approach to legal requirements associated with the hologame industry. If you find yourself recognizing someone, congratulations! You’ve either discovered a lucrative business opportunity or a very expensive lawsuit. Proceed with caution, and remember: profit is the only true reality, everything else is just a cheap holo-illusion.
Tamio laughed out loud at the mandatory disclaimer, before the Holo-NOT-Grok continued its rule explanations.
Holo-NOT-Grok: The goal of this family-friendly game of commerce is to outwit, outmaneuver and outbid your rivals through cunning trades, ruthless economic conquest and strategic bribery until you control the majority of the galaxy’s wealth, and preferably some starbases for good measure. Each businessman starts with 1000 bars of gold-pressed latinum, the true currency of power, and using the Starships you’ve generously taken off of Starfleet’s hands for a not-insignificant-sum, you must travel across the Quadrants to purchase trade stations and starbases.
Tho'Bi: ::to himself:: really good noodles.
Meris: Noodles? This is already more complicated than I expected.
Bancroft: ::dryly, examining his pile:: My father once told me if you ever find yourself staring down a mountain of fake money in front of a simulated Ferengi… you’ve made a wrong turn in life. ::beat:: His lessons were oddly specific.
Cole: Oddly specific lessons are the best kind. My aunt once told me never to accept soup from a Tellarite. I’ve yet to find out why, but I’m not risking it.
K’Wara: I’m sure it was a ‘not-significant-sum’, though I’ve never known a Ferengi to call any sum of latinum ‘insignificant’.
Holo-NOT-Grok: The starting player is decided by an opening bribe to the bank. Which is me. ::Ferengi smirk::
K’Wara: Of course it is. ::interacts with their player-station:: I’ll make the opening bid. 10 bars of gold-pressed latinum!
Tho’Bi: ::slaps hand on table:: 15 bars.
The Holo-Ferengi interjected, apparently keen to encourage higher bidding.
Holo-Ferengi: Remember my fellow profit seekers ::raises finger in the air:: Rule of Acquisition number nine ::beat:: Opportunity plus instinct equals profit.
A huge three-dimensional golden nine manifested above them with the rule orbiting the nine's equator in a never ending loop.
Meris: Can I bid 1,000 bars?
Bancroft: ::aside to Meris, sotto voice:: You can… but then the Ferengi wins. Trust me, the smug never really washes off.
Cole: It’s not the most tactically sound of opening moves.
Meris: Oh. ::thinking:: Then I shall bid sixteen bars. ::playing it safe::
Cole: Rule of Acquisition number Seventy Six ::beat::Every once in a while, declare peace. It confuses the hell out of your enemies. ::counting from her pile:: Twenty Bars
Bancroft: ::gesturing to Meris’ bribe and eyeing the Ferengi:: Is… is he panting?
K’Wara: I have no clue. ::laughs:: I grew up in the Cammus System, near Gorn Space, and didn’t leave home until joining Starfleet. I’ve been accosted by very few Ferengi.
Meris: I can’t say I’ve had much experience with them either. There were no Ferengi in my Academy class – or maybe they just all majored in Economics.
Bancroft: ::leaning in, voice low and conspiratorial:: I bid… one slip.
Holo-NOT-Grok wheezed, its eyes bulging out in a grandiose display of hurt and dismay.
Holo-NOT-Grok: ::laughing nervously:: My hew-mon friend, I’m sure you must have mis-spoken. One sl–
Bancroft: ::interrupting, grinning:: One slip… plus ten percent of my net profits.
Cole: oO Bold movie, wonder if it’ll work. Oo
Holo-NOT-Grok flung an arm outwards in dramatic fashion, pointing at the player with the highest bid.
Holo-NOT-Grok: The highest bribe stands with this bold profit seeker!
The holographic Ferengi swept his arm around the circle of players, his floating torso, arms and head rotating as he did so.
Holo-NOT-Grok: Any final bribes? ::grins::
Tho'Bi: ::shaking head:: No.
The holo-NOT-Grok made a face and scoffed at Meris before it moved on to the next player.
Bancroft: ::arched eyebrow:: My offer stands, Ferengi. As does my dignity. For now. Let’s not test the elasticity of either.
Cole: ::looks to Bancroft, offering commentary:: Will the bank take the bribe ::beat:: we shall see.
K’Wara: Response
The bid-bribes all made, Holo-NOT-Grok pointed at the highest ‘briber’, while luminescent Dabo chips rained him.
Holo-NOT-Grok: Behold! ::beat:: Our boldest profit-seeker!
Holo-Dabo chips rained down around them while Meris applauded gently. Natasha smiled as each player reacted to this in their own way.
K’Wara: Response
The holographic Ferengi's face exploded into view again – now embedded in the center of a massive floating Dabo wheel that hovered inches above the table.
Holo-Ferengi: Spin the wheel! ::beat:: The higher the number ::beat:: the more lightyears you can go!
Bancroft: ::eyeing the Dabo wheel:: I wonder what mildly cursed space calamity the universe has in store for me today.
Cole: You’ve already willingly been blind in a warzone, so … I’m sure you’ll be fine … mostly.
K’Wara: Response
Play proceeded around the table until it was Meris’ turn. They leaned forward and spun the wheel. It landed on twenty, and they began moving their piece through the light-years until they landed on a wormhole.
Meris: What does that mean?
They didn’t have to wait long. Their piece suddenly began to spin and swirl, then was sucked into a vortex within the board.
Holo-Ferengi: Sorry! You lose your next turn! But don’t worry – there’s always Rule 88! 'It isn’t over till it’s over!'
A huge three-dimensional golden 88 manifested above them, with the rule orbiting its equator in a never-ending loop.
Cole: Oof, that is rough.
She leaned forward and spun the wheel, getting a seven. As her NX ship moved across the board it landed on SECTION 31 MISSION
Holo-NOT-Grok: ::smiling evilly:: You’re progress has been blocked by an active Section 31 mission. Pay 50 bars of latinum to get them to look the other way or go back five spaces.
Cole: ::exasperated sigh:: Can’t help but feel like you're shaking us down Grok. ::dropping 50 bars into the pot.
K’Wara/Tho’Bi/Meris: Response
It was Roy’s turn next, and he leaned forward and spun the wheel. It landed on thirteen – of course. He counted the spaces aloud in a mock-dramatic whisper as he moved his tiny Defiant.
Bancroft: One… two… three… temporal nonsense… five…
The final square read TEMPORAL ANOMALY.
The Ferengi grinned.
Holo-NOT-Grok: ::smiling evilly:: You’ve been aged forty years. Pay 100 bars of latinum for genetic reconstruction or lose 3 turns due to back pain.
Roy grumbled and slid the required payment into the central pot.
Bancroft: ::muttering:: Forty years older and still not eligible for early retirement. At this rate I’ll be dead and working overtime.
Cole: Could be worse, could be forty years older and still an Ensign. ::laughing::
Bancroft/K’Wara/Tho’Bi/Meris: Response
Tags/TBC
-----
Ens. Natasha Cole
Security Officer
USS Artemis-A
Writer ID A240205NC4