Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine® Volume Three Page 16

  Waving her off, Quark said, “Later. So tell me, Krax, when were you planning to share this little scheme?”

  “There—there was no need to! It worked out a lot differently than I expected—I didn’t think you and this female and your nephew would find out so much on your own—or that you’d get someone to break into the archive. I didn’t even think that was possible!”

  “Thank you,” Leck said.

  “You’re—you’re welcome.” Krax felt odd exchanging pleasantries with someone about to kill him, but anything to appease the lunatic was worth it. “But the end result is the same—Brunt, Chek, and Dav have been discredited, Rom’s position as Grand Nagus is stronger than ever, and the market’s even gone back up fifty points, and it’ll probably go up again tomorrow.” Another thought occurred. “And—and—and as an added bonus, Eelwasser will probably take a huge hit, which will make Nilva happy, since Slug-O-Cola’s sales will go up! He’s a good ally to have.”

  Quark stood rubbing his chin. The Bajoran was still staring daggers at Quark. Leck’s grip has loosened a bit. Krax’s left leg was starting to cramp.

  Leck finally spoke. “Can I kill him now, please?”

  “No,” Quark said, causing Krax to let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “Not yet, anyhow.”

  The knife came away from Krax’s throat, the grip on his torso released, and Krax stumbled forward into his sitting room. Holding a hand to his throat, he asked, “What—what do you mean, ‘not yet’?”

  “We’re going to leave now. I’ll even make sure Rom doesn’t know what you almost did to him. But let’s just say there’ll be a price.”

  “What will that be?” Krax asked with a nervous glance at Leck.

  Quark smiled. “Someday, I’ll let you know.”

  12

  There is no substitute for success.

  —RULE OF ACQUISITION #58

  Ro decided that she liked Leeta’s other hospital room better.

  The fancy room—the one she’d been mistakenly taken to when she first visited Leeta, and to which Leeta had been returned after Rom’s nagushood was reaffirmed—didn’t look any better when it was crowded, and it was certainly packed to the proverbial gills. Zek, Ishka, and Krax all stood on one side of the bed, the latter giving Quark and Ro nervous looks. On the opposite side, Ro stood with Quark on one side of her and Nog on the other. Everyone was smiling, but nobody as widely as Rom was, standing to Quark’s left.

  Everyone’s eyes, of course, were focused on the occupants of the bed: Leeta and the new baby.

  Objectively, Leeta did not look better than she did when Ro saw her last—her face was still puffy and splotchy, and she looked even paler—but the huge smile on her face made it impossible to be objective.

  She said she was happy before—now she’s positively glowing.

  “What’s her name?” Ishka asked.

  “Bena,” Leeta said. “We sort of named her after the Emissary.”

  “And,” Ro added, “the word means ‘joy’ in Bajoran.”

  Ishka’s smile was so wide, the corners of her lips were encroaching on her neckframe. “It fits.”

  Quark turned to stare at his brother. “The word means ‘underflooring’ in Ferengi.”

  “Uhhh,” Rom drew the syllable out a bit, then paused. “Well, it, uh, symbolizes how children are always getting underfoot!”

  Nog laughed. “Nice save, Father.”

  “Anyway, she’s a beautiful child,” Ishka said.

  “Thanks.” Leeta looked down at the child, bundled in a latinum-lined blanket (of course).

  Ro wasn’t entirely sure that beautiful was the first word that would come to mind when looking at little Bena. Admittedly, in Ro’s opinion, all newborns looked hideous—Bajoran babies looked like kava fruit, and human infants looked like stewed prunes—and this hybrid looked even worse than usual. Leaving aside the wrinkles and the scrunched-up face common to mammals newly arrived in the galaxy, Bena had ears that were too big for a Bajoran but too small for even a female Ferengi, a Ferengi-shaped head (that was expected, given what Dr. Orpax had said about Leeta’s difficulties during the pregnancy), a nose that combined the wideness of a Ferengi nose with the wrinkles of a Bajoran’s, and—most peculiar of all on a Ferengi-shaped head—a tuft of brown hair on top of her crown. That kid’s gonna hate being out in the rain.

  Then she squirmed in her incredibly expensive blanket and curled closer to Leeta’s chest. Ro couldn’t help but find that sight—even on this baby—to be nothing short of adorable.

  “Today is a great day,” Rom said. “My wife and child are healthy, we came out ten bars ahead in the baby raffle, the market’s back up another fifty points, Brunt isn’t on the congress anymore—”

  Quark took a breath. “Can’t really complain about any of that.”

  “—and I’m still Grand Nagus!”

  “That, on the other hand…”

  Ishka reached across the biobed to smack Quark’s hand. “That’s enough, Quark. You’re not going to spoil this day.”

  Shaking his head, Quark said, “Whatever you say, Moogie.”

  Nog said, “I just feel sorry for anyone invested in Chek Pharmaceuticals or Eelwasser—they’ve both taken huge financial hits ever since it was revealed that they sponsored someone who forged a Ferengi contract.”

  Ro was amused that Nog specified a Ferengi contract, remembering once again that extra clause in the Seventeenth Rule….

  Ishka smiled. “I bet Nilva’s happy as a grub in dirt, though.”

  Leeta said, “I’m just glad everything worked out okay.”

  “Me, too,” Ishka said, then turned to Zek. “I’m especially glad you went on FCN and recanted your condemnation of Rom.”

  Zek shrugged. “It was the least I could do.”

  Quark muttered only loud enough for Ro to hear: “Never let it be said that Zek didn’t do the least he could do.” It was all Ro could do to control her reaction.

  “Besides,” Zek continued, turning to Ishka, “it means I’m getting my sweetie-foot back.”

  The pair of them pressed their noses together in the traditional Ferengi show of affection.

  “You bet, Zekkie,” Ishka said. “I promise, I won’t leave your side ever again.” She then turned to Rom. “And don’t worry—I trust Krax to do a fine job as first clerk.”

  Quark put a hand on Rom’s shoulder. “Actually, so do I.”

  Rom whirled on his brother and fixed him with a befuddled expression. “You, uhh—you do?”

  With a significant look at Krax, Quark said, “Yes, I do.”

  Krax swallowed. Again, Ro had to control her reaction.

  Holding hands with Zek, Ishka said, “We’re going to be heading back to Risa first thing tomorrow morning. Rom, if there’s anything you need—ask someone else. We’re both retired.”

  Grinning, Rom said, “Don’t worry, Moogie. I’ll be fine.”

  “And I’ll make sure he stays fine,” Krax said. “Father, can I talk to you for a second?”

  Krax and Zek moved to a corner of the room. Rom then asked, “What about Gaila? Does anyone know what happened to him?”

  Nog shook his head. “He hasn’t been seen since Zek came to Ferenginar.”

  “He probably was just hired to convince Zekkie to come here.” Ishka shook her head. “Just grabbed the opportunity and left—Gaila always did have good lobes.”

  He betrays everyone and they admire him for it—I have got to get off this planet. Ro focused her attention on little Bena, who was now nestled into Leeta’s chest and fast asleep.

  “By the way,” Rom said slowly, “I went to see Prinadora.”

  Leeta sat up straighter. “You what?” That woke the baby up, and she started crying. “Oh no, Bena, Mommy’s sorry.” She started rocking the girl slowly back and forth. “I didn’t mean to wake you, my sweet baby.”

  Then Leeta started to softly sing a Bajoran lullaby that Ro hadn’t heard since she was a girl
herself.

  While Leeta sang, Quark asked, “What did you go and do that for?”

  “After what Nog told me about how she acted, I wanted to see if it was true.”

  “You didn’t believe your own son?”

  “No! It’s just—”

  Ro came to his rescue. “You wanted to see for yourself?”

  Nodding, Rom said, “I just needed to know if she really—if she—that she honestly—”

  Quark looked to the ceiling in supplication. “Rom, spit it out, already!”

  Slumping his shoulder, Rom said, “She never loved me. She barely even remembered me. I think if I hadn’t become nagus, she’d’ve forgotten me completely.” He took a deep breath. “She acted the way she did so I would fall in love with her—and she did it because Dav told her to.”

  “Everything she ever did was because Dav told her to,” Nog said.

  “Well, that won’t last,” Ishka said. Ro shot her a look at that, as did everyone else—even Leeta, who cut herself off in mid-lullaby. “Rom’s not the only one who went to see her. Dav’s not going to be able to afford to feed her—he’s barely going to be able to afford to feed himself—and it’s long past time she got herself her own job.”

  “What did you do, Mother?” Quark asked with a wince.

  Ishka grinned. “I hired her. She’ll be my personal assistant. I’ll be taking her back to Risa with me, teaching her to read and do math. When she’s ready, she’ll be able to handle my affairs so I can spend more time with my Zekkie.”

  Rom gave his mother a smile. “Thank you, Moogie.”

  Quark turned to Ro. “Can we go home now?”

  Now it was Ishka’s turn to look to the ceiling. “Can’t you wish your brother well just once, Quark? After all, you went to the trouble of helping him keep his position as nagus.”

  “That’s because, as bad a Grand Nagus as Rom is, Brunt would’ve been a million times worse.” Quark sighed. “At least I can take some solace in the fact that Brunt’s destitute and out of a job. And a day when Brunt loses is a good day for me.”

  “The FCA will never take him back now—I made sure of that.” Rom spoke with a sadistic glee Ro hadn’t credited him with prior to that.

  A thought occurred to Ro. What if Dav, Chek, and their little cabal hadn’t recruited Brunt? What if they went for someone who had less of a personal grudge against Rom and Quark and Ishka? Would Quark have been on Rom’s side, or would he have been leading the charge to depose his own brother?

  Ro wasn’t entirely sure she liked the answer that seemed most probable.

  Zek wondered what it was that his son wanted to say to him that couldn’t be said in front of Ishka and Rom. Then again, maybe it’s one of those father-son talks. We haven’t had one of those in—He thought a moment. Come to think of it, we’ve never had one of those.

  “What is it, Krax?” Zek asked.

  “I just wanted to say, Father, that I took your advice, and I hope you can see that.”

  Zek frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Back when you first tested me to see if I was ready to assume power, you told me I failed the test because I didn’t worm my way inside—I didn’t become the power behind the throne. Well, now I think I’ve done it.”

  This surprised Zek. “You have?”

  Krax then went into a lengthy explanation of a rather complicated plan he hatched that would force Rom’s enemies to play their hands sooner than expected, thus allowing Krax to expose and discredit them. Zek followed only about a quarter of it, but it sounded like a good plan—mainly because it worked, which was really the only criterion by which one could judge a plan.

  “Best of all,” Krax said, “I’ve invested heavily in Doremil Drugs—Chek’s chief competitor. Their stocks are going through the clouds!”

  That Zek was able to follow. “Good work, son. You’ve made yourself valuable to the Grand Nagus and improved your portfolio!” He put a fatherly hand on Krax’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, my boy. I always knew that someday you’d learn your lesson.”

  Krax’s beady eyes widened. “Really, Father?”

  Zek laughed. “No, not really, but I’m glad you did it anyhow.”

  Leading his son back to the biobed, he saw that Quark, Nog, and the Bajoran female were getting ready to leave.

  Quark was, as usual, babbling. “Either way, we’ve done our bit to make Ferenginar safe for democracy—may the Divine Exchequer have mercy on us all—and I for one would like to get back to my bar.”

  “Actually,” the Bajoran female said, “much as I hate to say it, Quark’s right—we all should get back. I have a security division to run.” Like that redhead back at the space station and Rom’s wife, this Bajoran was quite delectable to Zek. I need to get me one of them, he thought. Then he looked at Ishka, and thought better of it. Then again, there’s all kinds of pleasures to be found on Risa….

  Nog added, “And I need to get back before Ensign Senkowsky takes over.”

  The Bajoran looked at Nog and smiled. “I thought you trusted him?” Nog started to say something, but the female cut him off. “No, wait, don’t tell me—‘Hear all, trust nothing.’ That’s, what, Rule One-Twenty?”

  “One-Ninety, actually,” Nog said with a grin.

  “Feel free to come back anytime, Brother,” Rom said. “After all, my house—is your house.”

  Quark put his head in his hands. “And yet another Ferengi tradition bites the dust during the Rom regime.”

  Zek laughed and clapped Quark on the shoulder. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, my boy. Now come on, let’s leave the happy parents to be with their little girl.”

  13

  A Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at all.

  —RULE OF ACQUISITION #18

  “Dabo!”

  Quark smiled as he came down the stairs from the upper level. Having just finished conducting a most profitable transaction with Captain Rionoj—a lovely Boslic woman with whom he had done good business and about whom he’d had many good fantasies over the years—he now watched Treir in action.

  The winner of this dabo spin was a Kobheerian who was almost out of the game. Winning this spin won him three bars, which meant he would likely stay in for at least another hour. Since he’d been drinking like a fish, and had expensive tastes, this also meant he’d be buying more—in fact, he was signaling Frool for another Tzartak aperitif, the most expensive drink on the menu.

  Life, Quark thought, is good.

  He also noticed that the other players were shifting uncomfortably in their seats, looking like they were going to leave.

  Quark slid next to Treir, slipping an arm around her lovely torso, and asked, “How is everyone doing tonight?”

  General affirmative noises came from around the table, most from the Kobheerian.

  “Good! You’ll all be happy to know that we have a special tonight—stay at the dabo table from now until 2100 hours, and you get the first half-hour of a holosuite program free.” He leaned forward a bit, taking Treir with him, thus affording the players a better view of that cleavage of hers. “So if you stay for only half an hour, it’s a free holosuite session. Can’t beat that with a stick, can you?”

  Several of the players looked pleased at that.

  Looking up at Treir, Quark went on. “I’m sure our lovely Treir will see to your every need, won’t you?”

  “Of course.” Treir’s voice was in full-on purr mode, and Quark’s lobes just tingled.

  Slowly extracting his arm, Quark said, “Enjoy yourselves, folks—we’re here to make sure you have a good time.”

  As he worked his way back to the bar, he nodded at assorted customers. He saw Bashir, Tarses, and the rest of the medical staff all sharing a drink. In one corner, Nog was eating a spore pie while conversing with his assistant, the ensign with the unnecessarily long last name, and who looked more than a little nauseated by Nog’s dinner choice. Humans, Quark thought with amusement. No sense
of good cuisine, and no idea how to keep nomenclature simple, like Ferengi. I mean, really, who wants to conduct business with someone where it takes half an hour just to say their name?

  At the bar, he saw that Frool was making a targ’s ear of the aperitif. “You lobeless idiot,” he said to the waiter. “That mixture is for a Lisspeian. Tzartak aperitifs are tailored to the body temperature of the drinker, and a Kobheerian’s body temperature is five degrees warmer than a Lisspeian’s.”

  “Sorry,” Frool muttered, and remixed the drink.

  “The cost of the bad drink is coming out of your salary,” Quark said, then moved on to see if anyone sitting at the bar needed another drink. Predictably, Morn wanted another ale, which Quark dutifully provided, making a notation on the Lurian’s rather lengthy tab.

  Everything seemed under control, so Quark reached into his pocket, pulled out his padd, entered the security code, then called up his two favorite files.

  One was his own current financial profile, which wasn’t as high as he’d have liked, but still not bad. Although the Yridians’ bidding was sufficiently fierce for the forged Grisellan totem icons that the profit margin on that scam was huge, his token investment in Chek Pharmaceuticals—made as a gesture after Chek arranged the meeting in the bar weeks ago—had tanked, the syrup of squill shipment wound up being more expensive than expected thanks to Balancar’s new prime minister’s imposing higher tariffs on exports, and both kanar and yamok sauce had gone up in price again, thanks to the new government, such as it was, on Cardassia. On the other hand, Quark had heard that the new government on Mizar intended to revoke all tariffs, which meant that he’d be able to obtain Mizarian nuggets—a delicacy favored by Klingons, of which there were still an appalling number coming through the station these days. Nuggets were difficult to obtain within the Empire because the High Council refused to trade with a planet that was conquered so often—which Quark thought was just typical of Klingons.

  The other file Quark called up was Brunt’s financial profile. The only latinum the ex-liquidator had to his name were the ten bars he won in the baby raffle. He had no other assets, having been banned by the FCA for publicly falsifying a contract.