Disclaimer: Rather obviously, I don't own Star Trek or any of its related or ancilliary properties.

Currency Redesign (Or, How Gowron Became Chancellor)

An ageing Klingon warrior hurriedly ushered a short, hooded figure into the poorly lit room, casting furtive glances about to make sure no one saw him and his companion.

"Quickly!" he growled in a low voice. "Before someone sees you!"

They closed the door and the Klingon locked it, pulled out a tricorder, and swept the room for listening or recording devices. "It's clean," he said. "You may show yourself now."

The figure removed his hood, revealing the massive ears and pointed teeth of a Ferengi. "Welcome to Qo'noS," the Ferengi said sarcastically.

"It is not honourable to associate with the likes of your kind," said the Klingon.

"Well, I'll leave then," the Ferengi said, moving towards the door.

"Halt!" shouted the Klingon fiercely. "Stay. The Empire needs you, and your... advice."

The Ferengi gave a feral grin. Klingons might be brutal, vicious and scary, but they had no knowledge of the Rules of Acquisition. He had them right where we wanted them.

"Good. Now as I said, the Grand Nagus wants a monopoly on trading blood wine to the Jorada system and the Malderga system for the price of the advice I give you."

"And for yourself, Ferengi?"

Perhaps the Klingon wasn't so naive after all.

"The right to sell bat'leths to the Boreth colony."

The Klingon looked at him, appraising his motives. "Not a monopoly?"

The Ferengi shook his head. "Too conspicuous. Besides, I won't need it. I'll have the market cornered within a year."

The Klingon considered this, and said, "Very well. The High Council has authorized me to grant such... concessions. But do not fail us, Ferengi," he said, raising his bat'leth menacingly.

"I wouldn't think of it. Bad for business. Now let's talk about what's going on."

Two hours later, the Ferengi shook his head. "So eighty years after Praxis exploded, the Klingon economy still hasn't recovered. I thought the hew-mons were aiding you."

"It is not charity, Ferengi! It is mutual assistance."

The Ferengi scoffed. "So they give you subsidies and advice on their 'philosophy', and you give them, what exactly?"

"Military advisers."

"Of course. At least you haven't bought into their abandonment of money," the Ferengi said.

"It was an unpopular idea."

"Or their digital credit economy. You kept using the latinum standard," the Ferengi said approvingly. "But I think I've put my finger on the root of your economic problems here. Have you ever heard of the 'velocity of money'?"

"No. A warrior does not concern himself with such matters."

"Which is why I'm here. Money needs to circulate. The quicker money changes hands, and changes hands again, and so on and so on, the more powerful it is. If one slip of gold-pressed latinum changes hands multiple times in a short period of time, it has a similar effect to a large number of slips being in the economy instead.

"Your people are not spending their money quickly enough."

The Klingon bristled. "We are not merchants, Ferengi," he said, venom dripping from his inflection of the word 'merchant'.

"No, of course not. You're warriors. Still, bat'leths, pain sticks, blood wine, that armour you're wearing – those things don't purchase themselves. You need to buy things, you're just not doing it quickly enough."

The Ferengi thought for a few moments. He knew that rather than use just plain slips of gold-pressed latinum, like any sensible free economy modelled on Ferenginar would, the Klingons used slips, strips and bars pressed and approved by the Klingon Treasury, to stop foreign latinum from circulating without an exchange tax being paid. Such barbarism made him shudder, but what could one expect from Klingons?

He had an idea. "May I borrow a slip of latinum? I'll give it back, I just want to see it."

The Klingon begrudgingly handed him a slip. On it was pressed the image of a fierce Klingon warrior.

"Handsome image," the Ferengi said, handing it back to the Klingon. "Who is it?"

"That," the Klingon said with pride, "is Kahless, our first Emperor, and the greatest of all Klingon warriors."

"I bet Klingons like having his picture in their pockets, on every slip and strip of latinum."

"Indeed. It is an honour to have his image with us."

The Ferengi smiled. "Well, there's your problem. No one wants to spend their money because they love Kahless, and love having images of him on them. You need to have someone on your money people don't want in their pockets." He thought for a moment. "Do Klingons ever put their Chancellors on latinum?"

"We have, in the past. Chancellor K'mpec is dying, however. He is not long for this world."

"Well, there you go. When you replace him, have his successor's image put on money. And make sure the successor is someone no one want images of hanging around them. Like some ugly, bug-eyed freak."

The Klingon considered his words. "I will relay your words to the High Council, Ferengi."

The Ferengi smiled. "Wonderful. Now, where can you get oo-mox around here?"

[Author's Note: I blame my sister for this one, as I was talking with her about how weird-looking Gowron was, when this idea came to me.]