((Bok Station))

Over-Daimon Pogg sat in conference with his financial advisor, Dralx.  The pair had been working together for some decades already, and they had  made quite a profit on this sector too, but now things were starting to go wrong.  And it had all started when Starfleet showed up.  Then one ship had turned out to be two, and that became three, and Pogg couldn’t help but feel that he had to do something before this lucrative opportunity slipped through his fingers.

The freighters from the group they had dropped off on the edge of Romulan space 8 years ago were now 6 months overdue. He had Dilithium, Xanthanite and the crystal lattices ready to ship, but no freighters to take it. This was all thanks to his incompetent engineer who had convinced them that their engines were on the fritz all those years ago. The shuttles they had now could concievably make the trip back to the edge of Romulan  space, but they could only haul about 35 tons each, and it would be a 6 year round trip.

“We could try to bribe them to leave,” Dralx said, somewhat forcing the optimism in his tone.

Pogg shook his head.  “I’m not paying them to stop messing with my profits.  Besides, these Starfleeters aren’t like the Formicans; they’re altruistic, they don’t take bribes.” a sneer of disdain crept into his voice as he said the word.

“What about using the Formicans and Dergans?” Dralx asked.

Pogg thought about it for a long moment.  “Now that could work…  They’re as likely to hurt the Formicans’ margins as ours with their meddling and demands for equality and legality after all.  And the Dergans?  Well, the Dergans know their future’s with us, so all we have to do there is tell them that Starfleet wants to take away their freedom to seek profits with us, and they should fall into step quite easily.”

Dralx, ever the sycophant, nodded.  “A masterful idea, Over-Daimon!  With the three of us together, the Starfleeters would have no choice but to leave us alone if we all speak with one voice, hehe.”

“And we could keep raking in the profits, if those freighters ever arrive” Pogg finished, raising a glass to mock toast his idea.  He quaffed the drink, putting the glass down before speaking again.  “Now, go tell the Daimons what they plan is, so they can make it happen. Let’s just highlight the problematic aspects of the Federation and their friends setting up shop nearby.”

Pogg began to contemplate using the ace he had uo his sleave. He had held the decision about whther or not the Formicans would agree to a permanent peace treaty with the Dergans for a few years now. This might a time where peace was good for business, especially if it got the Federation to recognize their claims, or atleast cut them some slack.

((Formica, Colony 874 Shipyard))

Daimon Flig sat and stewed as he watched the 2 Starfleet Engineers chatting with A-11 and having a quick tour of one of the Formican ships that was nearing completion.

“Look at them, telling you what to do and rummaging through your ships. Sad to see them trample over what youve built, you Formicans are such hard workers. Just watch, they’ll have a list of upgrades they’ll demand, just to prove they’re superior.” The Sub-Daimon said to a nearby work gang.

“What do you mean?” One of the workers asked.  “They’ve been nothing but polite to us.”

“Yeah they’ll be polite until they want something, or you get in their way.” The Sub-Daimon said.

“Aren’t many people like that, though?” the worker replied.

“Not us, we’re here for profit.”

The worker nodded in solidarity with the statement. The Formicans were hyper-capitalists themselves, and even their offworld colonization plan was almost entirely influenced by economic conditions on Formica.