Latinum Lamentations

Posted on Sun Jan 9th, 2011 @ 8:55am by Grixx & S'anra

Mission: Hippocratic Hijacking
Location: SS North Star
Timeline: Shortly after 'For the Greater... Good?'

To say that Grixx was upset would be synonymous with saying any random star was hot. It went without saying. The fact that Grixx could just hear his accounts contracting over the loss of the cargo was enough to inspire a good deal of wrath in a man who's compact Ferengi frame didn't seem able to support. That wrath was directly pointed toward the unknown force that had removed, and with extreme prejudice to his profits, the cargo he was hauling. Indirectly, it was aimed for the woman who he had hired to protect it. The fact that she was Romulan had deterred some of his more sticky fingered underlings from going within a hundred feet of the cargo bay, as the natural assumption made by most people that had never actually met a Romulan in person was that they were all in the Tal-Shiar and they would all extract your heart via your asshole or some other such uncomfortable and round about part of your body just to add insult to injury. For the money Grixx had shelled out during their negotiations for her becoming a 'member' of the crew, he'd certainly not seen the value of it.

"S'anra! Explain to me just why the hell you didn't kill at least half a dozen of them before they made off with my cargo!" the Ferengi blustered as he walked into the compartment that the Romulan woman was currently occupying, "I paid you well enough that you should have at least felt compelled to fire on them a few times! How is it that you care so little about my profits that you just let them walk in and take what was mine?!"

Grixx, deep down, held no illusions that the woman was probably lucky to even be alive right now. His ego and lust for profits, however, overrode his compassion and empathy and replaced each with their opposing emotions.

"You presume my pay isn't on the line too," S'anra scoffed, nursing a head wound. Her other bruises she had not yet surveyed. She hadn't confronted their attackers directly, if she had, she would likely be dead at the moment, given what she'd seen of those that had. She had, however, been close enough to the explosion to have her head unceremoniously thrown across the cargo bay, and the rest of her with it. "It was a professional team, very experienced. Three, maybe four."

"Four?! Four people came in and stole my profits?! I don't care how professional they were, we have a crew of dozens and four people were enough to stop them, and you?! What kind of Romulan are you?" Grixx screamed in frustration.

"You hired a scientist, not a Reman assault squad," she sighed, significantly more relaxed about the situation than her current employer. She was alive, and most days, that was enough. She unwrapped one of the black leather armguards to inspect what turned out to be an exceptionally large bruise. "Dozens of morons, plus a scientist, can't protect you against someone with a plan."

"Unacceptable!" the Ferengi bellowed, "You were hired to do a job, that just was to look after the cargo. I don't care how many people there were with 'plans', you had a job and you fell miserably short of doing it... You're lucky we're adrift or I'd drop you off at the nearest habitable planet and be done with you..."

"Shouldn't your first concern be the fact that we're adrift, not irritating an injured Romulan with a disruptor?" S'anra asked. The obvious expectation was that when they weren't heard from someone would come looking for them. Which then begged the question of who that would be. Either the Empire or the Federation would be preferable. Honestly, she could live with the Klingons, but they should at least be remotely concerned a different pirate ship might show up, with even less desire to leave anyone alive.

"What good did that disruptor even do, I wonder," the Ferengi scowled before changing the subject, "I have to go check on the Engine Room anyway... pick yourself up and make yourself useful... but don't expect medical care, our medic is dead."

Got it covered, S'anra thought. "Just don't let anyone touch the cargo area," she stated as he headed out, before muttering under her breath, "I'm going to figure out who's responsible for making me put up with your whining."