by Lance Hartcort and Alison Schneider
90930.2000
Following Sunny San Francisco
-=Dron’s Quarters Starfleet Research, San Francisco=-
90930.2000
Following Sunny San Francisco
-=Dron’s Quarters Starfleet Research, San Francisco=-
"So what is it exactly that you want from me?" Dron asked, his head inclined on Alison's lap.
She tugged hard on his right lobe, which made the Ferengi let out a contented sigh. "You know what I want. I will not repeat myself just to prolong your pleasure."
"Very well. You cannot fault a Ferengi for trying." Turning to the other occupant of the room, he asked, "What is it that you want from me?"
Having until now been watching the entire transaction with amusement, Lance finally replied, "To speak with you about your implants and see if perhaps they could have some other uses."
"To help this little girl?"
"Yes," Lance confirmed.
"Where's the profit?" Dron asked.
Lance stepped forward, having anticipated the question and having already prepared an answer. "You created this technology for translation purposes, yes?"
"Yes," he confirmed.
"So any new uses for the technology would mean new product lines, which would mean greater profit," Lance finished.
"I like the way you think." Dron stated, before he pulled away from Alison, sat up, and faced her. "But why aren't you helping him with this?"
"I did bring him here, and you were happy up until a moment ago with me." She wiggled her fingers at him.
"Why haven't you considered reconstructive gene therapy?"
Alison sharply inhaled.
"Like I didn't know about it." Dron pointed to his ears. "I hear everything around here." He then patted her on the knee, as if that gesture were somehow supposed to be reassuring.
"Because I don't want the hobgoblin to have me imprisoned for handing over details of work which is technically illegal," she quickly answered. Alison turned to Lance. "It's what I do here. We manipulate genes to create therapies," She paused and then added, “and tailor made viruses and antidotes."
"It's the black operation of Starfleet science," Dron added.
Lance smiled. “Yes, but that is not of any concern as the prospects for profit are slim. Well, right now anyway. You’re little dodad on the other hand has great promise.”
Lance waved his hand in the air in front of him and stared out into space dramatically. It was time to cast out the bait. “Think about it Dron. You could market it amongst the civilian populace of uncountable worlds. Be the savior for those without hearing. Many would pay anything to have their hearing back.”
Dron followed Lance’s gaze as if he could see the profits rolling in. “Yes, yes! Dron, The Master of Sound, The Bringer of Hearing!”
Lance winked at Alison. “Think of what you could do with all of that profit.”
Dron continued to stare out in space as if looking at the future and nodded slowly. “Yes. He turned toward Alison and smiled lustfully, which caused her to raise her eyebrows.
“Of course there is a slight problem, Lance added with feigned sorrow.
Dron turned back to him. “Problem? What problem, Hu-mon?”
Lance smiled slightly; it was time to reel in the fish. “You need to figure out how to apply the technology to get it to communicate with body and brain. Otherwise, it is useless for this purpose. You need someone with experience utilizing biomechanics to design an interface for it so your technology can be used.”
Lance smiled and pointed towards himself. “I can do that for you.”
Drons eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What is in it for you?”
“Reputation,” Lance answered quickly. “I am a doctor and my reputation is important. You don’t think I am going to work for free in Starfleet forever do you? The more people hear about me, the more profit I can make when I leave Starfleet for private practice.” He flashed his most charming smile.
Alison was trying her hardest not to burst out laughing. When Lance was good, he was great. And she could not imagine a person not falling for his charm when he put it on as he was now.
Dron paced around the room for a moment, and it was clear that there was only one thing rolling around in his brain: profit. Finally, he spun around, firmly stood his ground, and said, "80-20. That will be the share of profits---if you are able to make the device to interface properly."
"I know you can do better than that. Twenty percent is hardly worth my time and expertise," Lance replied without blinking.
"You Hu-mons," Dron mumbled. He then said louder, "75-25."
Lance stepped over to Alison and gently took hold of her arm, as if to escort her out of the room.
"I'm sorry things could not work out," she quietly and almost sincerely said to him.
"It is a shame," Lance agreed, just as softly, "but I am sure that we can work out another solution."
"You are driving a hard bargain!" Dron exclaimed from the other side of the room. "70-30. My final offer."
Lance stopped short of the door and smiled at Alison before turning back to Dron.
“All right, deal.” Lance held out his hand. “When can you get me a copy of the prototype? A working copy of course.”
Dron eyed Lance’s outstretched hand before shaking it. “I can send the specifications and blueprints as soon as I return to the lab. How long will it take for you to design the interface, Hu-mon?” He smiled his toothy grin. “Profit waits for no one.”
Lance frowned in thought. “Well, I don’t really know. I’ll have to design the microbiologic connections, design nanites to work on the nerves…” He shrugged. “Could be weeks at best. After all, you do not want a bad interface that does not work properly, or even worse causes harm to the patient.”
Lance cringed. “Just think of the lawsuits.”
Dron nodded gravely. “Yes, the consumer can be fickle. We will have to insist on waivers.” He grinned as he nodded at his superior idea.
Lance nodded with him. “Yes, well I’ll leave that up to you. You seem to be quite the businessman.” He turned to leave. “I’ll look for that information expediently. The sooner I get it, the sooner I can get to work. A good day to you Mr. Dron.”
Lance and Alison left the room, with Dron slowly wringing his hands together as happy daydreams of riches and naked humans danced in his head.
--------------------------------
LT. Commander Lance Hartcort
Chief Medical Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
LT. Alison Schneider
Science Research Officer
Starfleet Research San Francisco
LT. Commander Lance Hartcort
Chief Medical Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
LT. Alison Schneider
Science Research Officer
Starfleet Research San Francisco