Lt. JG Natasha Cole - Choices Upon Choices of Escape
Natasha Schell
(( Ferenginar ))
Imril: Of course, they’ll let us leave. How else can we go back out into space and tell other people what a good time we had here? Today’s customer is tomorrow’s billboard. If that’s not a Rule Of Acquisition, it should be.
Imril spotted one of the landmarks they were told to look out for, a gold-plated statue of a Ferengi figure on a one-man roundabout boat laden with lanterns and treasure chests. The lanterns were arranged around the whole of the boat’s circular rim, suggesting advice to be prepared to find profit in whichever direction it lay. Imril turned down a long road full of more stores. Waving their companion to follow.
Imril: Then again, it would be easier to talk up all the fun I had at Bryyk’s Boffles if I ever set foot inside the place.
Cole: Honestly? Getting lost feels on-brand for the experience. If we’re doing this, we might as well commit.
Imril: Before we can escape a place, we must first wander blindly into its clutches.
She lifted the last of her Cardassian Dog in a mock toast before taking another bite, gesturing vaguely forward with it.
Cole: This is already more fun than shopping, so yeah ::gestures with her half-eaten dog:: I’m in.
Imril leaned in conspiratorially close.
Imril: Don’t tell the locals , but I haven't really thought up anything I needed to buy and take up to the ship. ::leaning away and resuming a normal tone of voice:: I prefer racking up experiences, anyway.
Natasha glanced around again, at the noise, the neon, the constant negotiation of space and attention. Ferenginar demanded energy just to exist in it, and she was acutely aware of how draining that could be alone.
Cole: Besides, it’s nice running into a friendly face out here. Ferenginar can be… a lot.
This elicited another laugh from Imril, one of gentle surprise.
Imril: And Earth isn’t? I mean, consider San Francisco. Turn enough corners, and you’re in a completely different city. A completely different culture! Not that that’s a bad thing. Saved me on transporter and shuttle credits when I wanted to get out of the Academy grounds and see something different. New Life And New Civilizations, just a motorbike ride away.
Cole: Earth’s beautiful in a way that just … is. A bit too much gravity, too much history, too many people who think they know you before you open your mouth. The air’s thick with stories, some of them yours, most of them not. I love the oceans, the storms, the way the planet just exists without asking permission. But Earth always felt like a place I visited, not somewhere I could disappear into.
Imril: Luna? I went there a few times for training, but never really had the chance to look around. What’s it like living there?
Cole: Luna taught me how to breathe on purpose. How to fix what’s broken instead of pretending it’ll sort itself out. It’s not warm, but it’s honest and I think that’s why it still feels like home.
Natasha slowed as the street ended, her eyes immediately drawn to the Undercity entrance carved into the stone across from them. Twin ramps spiraled downward between brightly lit walls, the kind designed to make darkness feel like a myth, while sleek circular lifts offered quieter passage below. Everything about the space felt intentional, controlled, and just polished enough to keep people moving without asking too many questions.
Neon signs and holopixels crowded the street level, promising spectacle, winnings, and second chances to reclaim lost latinum. Barkers wove through the throng with effortless charm, selling tickets and souvenirs at “discount” prices that set off Natasha’s instincts. As they reached the alcove, she spotted the sign Imril had been looking for, naturally marked with an arrow pointing down, because on Ferenginar, the real business always happened beneath the surface.
Imril: There it is! ::Points to the Down ramp:: Or, more accurately, there.
Natasha noticed the ramp had grating, likely to divert rain so they don’t have flooding. After all, the Ferengi wouldn’t want to have to pay for water damage.
Cole: Somehow I’m not surprised. ::gestures towards the toll booth::
Imril: I'll cover it.
Imril dug out the fee from their pocket and collected tickets for the two of them, passing one to Natasha.
Cole: Thank you Imril.
Imril: Response
Natasha glanced down at the ticket, turning it over between her fingers. Of course it was laminated, embossed, and faintly glittering—nothing on Ferenginar went unadorned if it could be monetized.
Cole: ::dry:: I half-expected this to double as a coupon or a legally binding waiver.
Imril: Response
They followed the ramp down into the Undercity proper, the sound shifting as the street noise dulled into a hum of machinery and voices. Ahead, a massive sign flickered to life in aggressive gold lettering:
BRYYK’S BOFFLES
Escape is Optional. Profit is Inevitable.
Cole: ::reading it aloud, amused:: Well that’s comforting.
Imril: Response
Inside, the lobby opened up into a cavernous space divided by velvet ropes and holo-banners, each advertising a different “experience.” Ferengi attendants barked pitches with the enthusiasm of auctioneers, gesturing dramatically toward each entrance.
Cole: ::eyes scanning the options:: Oh wow… they really leaned into themes.
Imril: Response
Tags/TBC
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Lt. JG Natasha Cole
Security Officer
USS Artemis-A
Writer ID A240205NC4