Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine® Volume Three Read online

  Besides which, Ishka needed Krax to eventually take over Ishka’s own self-appointed duties. The longer she stayed on Ferenginar, the longer she was away from Zekkie, whom she adored more than anything. Plus, Zekkie wasn’t as young as he used to be. Without her around to keep him focused, he tended to wander—both physically and mentally. His servant Maihar’du could handle the former, and luckily the latter wouldn’t be much of an issue on Risa—but still, she missed him. On the other hand, she had to make sure that Rom would be able to implement her and Zekkie’s reforms, or all the work she’d done for the past few years would be for naught.

  Once we get past this nonsense with Brunt, maybe I can finally go back with a clear conscience.

  In response to Rom’s lament, Ishka said, “That was in the past, Rom. We need to tell Krax.”

  “Tell me what?”

  Ishka turned to see Krax entering the room from the large oaken double doors that led to the sitting room. Ishka hadn’t even heard the doors open—but then, she was halfway across the room from them. The sitting room was huge, filled with comfortable seating, opulent statuary, and expensive furnishings. Most of it was too valuable to even touch. The room’s size made it easy for people to come in without being heard, a skill the nagal servants in particular had mastered.

  “Good news and bad news, Krax,” Ishka said. “The investigatory arm of the police force passed with flying colors, and Nurt’s going to run it.”

  Krax smiled and clapped his hands together. “Excellent! And Nurt couldn’t be a better choice.” He let his arms fall to his side. “What’s the bad news?”

  “Liph was removed from the congress.”

  “That’s good news!” Krax sounded confused.

  Ishka couldn’t blame him. “I’m not finished. His replacement, by an eleven-to-one vote—and a nine-to-three overturning of Rom’s veto—is Brunt.”

  “Oh. That’s not good.”

  “I know,” Rom said. “That’s why it’s bad news.”

  “We’re going to have to—”

  Whatever Krax was going to suggest was cut off by the intercom.

  “Grand Nagus, you have a communication from Dr. Orpax.”

  Rom leapt to his feet—or, rather, he tried to. Never the most graceful individual, he was also sitting on a voluminous amra-skin couch that was not conducive to leaping.

  Sighing, Ishka helped her son to his feet. Even as she did, he said, “I’ll take it in here.”

  He ambled over to the latinum-framed comm screen and touched a control. The face of a big-eared Ferengi with very small eyes and a most peculiarly shaped nose appeared. “Yes, Doctor?”

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news, Nagus. Your wife, she is not so good. It’s the head, you see.”

  Ishka shivered. She had been afraid of something like this ever since Leeta announced that she was pregnant.

  Rom frowned. “What’s wrong with Leeta’s head?”

  “No, no, it is not the mother’s head, it is the baby’s head. You see, her womb, it is designed for a Bajoran baby. Bajorans have very stunted heads—flat in the back, don’t you know.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Rom asked.

  “The baby’s head, it is too big for the womb. It is turning awkwardly, and occasionally cutting off its own food supply. I am afraid I am going to have to check her into the hospital for the duration of her term.”

  “How much will that cost?”

  Ishka couldn’t help but beam with pride at the fact that Rom asked that question first.

  “We can discuss remuneration at a later date, Nagus, right now the important thing is your wife.”

  “Of course, I—Ow!” That last was in reaction to a nowsomehwat-less-proud Ishka kicking him. “Oh, uhh, right. You, of course, won’t charge the Grand Nagus anything extra for the hospital stay, since the privilege of tending to the birth of the nagus’s child should be more than enough repayment. Think of the promotional value.”

  That’s better, Ishka thought.

  “You see, Nagus, this is why I wished to discuss this at a later date.” Quickly, he added, “Of course, the honor is more than enough payment, Nagus, and I wouldn’t dream of asking otherwise. I will check your wife into the hospital and keep her under close observation. I’ll be sure to check in on her twice a day.”

  Worried that she would have to kick him again, Ishka was relieved to see that Rom did eventually realize why Orpax was letting that line hang in the air. He touched a few controls on the console under the comm screen, transferring two strips of latinum into Orpax’s account.

  “Four times a day it is. I will keep you apprised of her health, and you can visit her during regular business hours.”

  This time Rom didn’t hesitate to transfer four strips.

  “As I said, you can visit her any time of the day or night. Good day, Nagus.”

  Orpax’s face faded from the viewer. Rom turned to look at Ishka. She could see the agony in his eyes. Ishka wasn’t thrilled when she found out that Rom had married some Bajoran sex kitten, and the lack of thrill was only slightly ameliorated when she met Leeta and found her to have more depth than expected. But there was no denying that Rom truly loved her.

  “I hope Leeta will be okay,” he said. “I didn’t realize that the birth was going to be such a problem. Bajoran women have easy pregnancies, Leeta said so. I remember when Colonel Kira gave birth to the O’Briens’ baby, it was no big deal. I thought it would be the same for us.”

  Ishka put her hands over Rom’s ears and kissed the depression in his forehead. “It’ll be okay, Rom—I’m sure your child will be born safe and sound.” She turned to Krax. “Speaking of which, how’s the raffle going?”

  Krax smiled. “We’ve sold twenty-five thousand chances at one slip per chance. Taking out twenty thousand for the ten-bar prize to whoever comes closest to time, date, and gender, and we’re still five thousand slips in the black—with more chances being bought every day.” He turned to Rom. “What better omen for your child’s birth than to have it be the source of profit for the family?”

  Ishka couldn’t argue with that. But the worried look on Rom’s face nearly broke her heart. No matter what happens, with Krax, with Brunt, or with the congress, I don’t think I can go anywhere until the baby is born.

  Zek lay on the beach, watching the tide crawl up the sand like a profit projection, and sighed with contentment.

  Risa’s complex weather system screened all harmful solar radiation from those lying on the beach, so Zek was able to enjoy the warmth of the sun without worrying about any deleterious effects. That same weather system kept the temperature warm but not too hot, and provided a slight breeze wafting through the air.

  Best of all, there wasn’t a trace of humidity. Having lived most of his long life on Ferenginar, he had grown to appreciate dry warmth wherever he could get it.

  Decades ago, not long after he first ascended to the nagushood, Zek had tried to buy Risa. Unfortunately, the place wasn’t for sale, no matter how high Zek upped the offer. He’d tried several times over the intervening years, but he always got the same answer: “Risa’s beauty is for all to share.”

  Zek had the hardest time wrapping his mind around that concept.

  He stared out at the beautiful ocean, and leaned over to tell Ishka to look at it.

  Ishka wasn’t there. Where’d she go? She was just here—wasn’t she?

  “Maihar’du!”

  The Hupyrian servant appeared as if from nowhere. Zek had always appreciated, though never understood, how Maihar’du managed to be so quiet and inconspicuous while standing at two and a half meters and weighing more than the average asteroid.

  “Where’s Ishka?”

  Before Maihar’du could reply, Zek suddenly remembered that Ishka had gone back to Ferenginar six months ago.

  “Never mind, I know where she is. I want to talk to her right now!”

  Nodding in affirmation, Maihar’du helped Zek to his feet. Zek made his way back to the
beach house he and Ishka had rented a year ago when they decided to retire here. Zek had tried to buy the place, but the Risan desire not to sell their planet apparently extended to small parts of it. That was a pity, as far as Zek was concerned, as it dashed his alternative plan to use dummy accounts to buy up real estate all over the planet until he slowly but surely owned most of it.

  By the time Zek reached the back door of the beach house, Maihar’du had gathered up all of Zek’s belongings in his voluminous arms and caught up to the former Grand Nagus with his greater strides.

  Why did Ishka go back to Ferenginar again? Zek racked his brain, but it was so hard to focus. I need Ishka. Of course, if Ishka were here to help me, I wouldn’t need to focus to figure out where she is. No, that’s wrong—I know where she is, I just don’t know why she’s there.

  As he entered the house, he turned to Maihar’du, whose face he could barely see amid the beach chair, drinks container, towels, case of beetle snuff, padds with an assortment of Lissepian erotica loaded onto them, and another padd with his financial portfolio all piled in the Hupyrian’s arms. “Why is Ishka on Ferenginar?”

  Maihar’du opened his mouth to reply, but then Zek finally recalled it. “Wait! I remember! She wanted to help out that no-good son of mine now that he’s Grand Nagus.” Zek frowned. “No, that’s wrong. It’s that no-good son of hers.” Then, like a comm signal coming into focus, it all came clear to him. “Now I remember! My no-good son is helping out her no-good son.” Proudly, he turned to Maihar’du, who still stood in the doorway, laden with Zek’s stuff. “Well, don’t just stand there! Put a call through to Ferenginar! And make it snappy! Do you want me to send you back where you were—unemployed—on Verdimass?”

  Maihar’du wasted no time in moving to the living room, dropping all of Zek’s items on the couch—well, most of them on the couch, anyhow—and going to the living-room comm unit to put the call through.

  “Damn Hupyrians,” Zek muttered. “Can’t trust any of ’em. If it wasn’t for their beetle snuff, the whole planet would be useless.”

  Moments later, Maihar’du indicated the companel.

  “What’re you pointing at that for?” Zek asked in confusion. Shouldn’t Maihar’du have been putting away all his stuff? After all, he was done on the beach, and—

  Why did I come in here again?

  “Zekkie? Is that you?”

  “I know that voice!” Zek racked his brain again. Then he recalled: “Ishka! Sweetie-pie, where are you?”

  “I’m on the companel, Zekkie. Come over here where I can see you.”

  “What’re you doing on the companel? We’re supposed to go to the beach today, remember? The tide’ll be coming in, and that means lots and lots of algae. We can make those homemade Slug-O-Colas, just the way you like ’em!”

  Zek walked up to the panel and saw Ishka’s beautiful face. She was the one who opened his eyes to the neglected half of Ferengi society, and who also kept him alert when the FCA tried to have him deposed. The worst was that one liquidator—what was his name?

  “I’m still on Ferenginar, Zekkie. And I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”

  “Why can’t you come back to me here on Risa? It’s no fun without you.”

  Ishka looked so sad, it made Zek’s heart flutter. “I’m really sorry, but Rom needs me now.”

  “So do I. Besides, didn’t you say my no-good—” Zek hesitated. Don’t undersell him. “I mean, my incredibly brilliant son was going to help out so you could return?”

  “Krax makes a fine first clerk, but things just got a lot more complicated. We had to kick Liph off the congress.”

  Zek couldn’t remember who Liph was. “So?”

  “So the congress voted to replace him—with Brunt.”

  Zek couldn’t remember who Brunt was, either. “Well, that’s not so bad.”

  Ishka’s mouth fell open. “Not that bad!? How can you say that?”

  “Well, it’s not like they elected that liquidator from the FCA—oh, what’s his name, the one who had me deposed two years ago?”

  “Zekkie, that was Brunt.”

  “It was?” Zek scratched his left lobe. “Well, if you say so, honey-bunch.”

  “I do. And I don’t like it. Brunt’s up to something.”

  “Well, of course he’s up to something—he’s a Ferengi, isn’t he?”

  “I mean he’s up to something that will be bad for Rom.”

  Zek was confused. “Isn’t that Rom’s problem?”

  “Rom’s problems are Ferenginar’s problems.”

  “I don’t see why. Isn’t your son just some engineer on that space station where his brother has the bar? Let Brunt go after him if—”

  “Zekkie,” Ishka said slowly, “Rom is the new Grand Nagus, remember? You appointed him.”

  “I did?” Zek couldn’t imagine why he would appoint a Ferengi like Rom to the nagushood. “What did I do that for?”

  “To carry out your reforms, Zekkie. You yourself said that the new Ferenginar needs a kinder, gentler Grand Nagus.”

  “I said that?”

  “Yes.”

  Zek considered it. “Well, it certainly sounds like something I might say. I suppose. Are you sure that was such a good idea?”

  Now Ishka sounded as confused as Zek felt. “Zekkie, we talked about this for months. Don’t you remember?”

  In truth, he didn’t, but he didn’t want Ishka mad at him, so he said, “Of course I do! But even now, the Grand Nagus needs to be ruthless—he needs to make decisions. Rom can’t even decide what tooth sharpener to use in the morning. I just—think maybe—well, I mean—” Zek lost his train of thought.

  “Zekkie—” Ishka started, but then Zek regained his train.

  “We were supposed to retire together, sweetie-foot!”

  Again the confused look. “Sweetie-foot?”

  But Zek went on, undeterred, even though he had no idea what recess of his brain that particular endearment came from. “I haven’t seen you except on a comm screen in six months! If I wanted to be alone and miserable, I’d have stayed Grand Nagus!”

  “I promise, Zekkie, I’ll come back to you soon. I just want to make sure that Rom’s ready for whatever Brunt has planned.” She then broke into a smile. “Besides, Leeta’s pregnancy has almost come to term—I don’t want to miss the birth of my second grandchild!”

  Zek found he couldn’t argue with that. He remembered the joy he felt when Krax was born—though it was leavened by the complete disappointment the boy had become later on. Still, there was something precious about the purity of a newborn baby who hadn’t even acquired a proper portfolio yet. Zek could see why Ishka wanted to be around for the birth.

  Then he remembered something. “Isn’t Rom’s wife Bajoran?”

  Ishka nodded.

  “Won’t the baby look a little strange?”

  “We’ll find out soon,” Ishka said. Zek noticed that she didn’t actually answer the question. “I have to get going, Zekkie—the rates will go up if we’re on too much longer.” She stared at him with those beautiful eyes of hers. “I love you, Zekkie.”

  Zek’s face broke into a huge smile. “I love you too, sweetie-foot.” He decided he liked the endearment. “Talk to you soon!”

  “Bye!” Ishka gave him a loving wave, and then her face disappeared, replaced with the logo of the company that provided subspace communication service to and from Risa.

  Hm, he thought. Maybe I can buy them up and use that as a way of leveraging myself into a position to buy the planet!

  Pleased with his brilliant revelation, he looked around for Ishka. He never liked to implement a financial plan without her input.

  He looked around the room. Where is she?

  “Maihar’du! Where’s Ishka? We were supposed to be going out to the beach today!”

  The Hupyrian looked down at the floor and shook his head.

  3

  Sometimes the only thing more dangerous than a question is an answer.
/>
  —RULE OF ACQUISITION #208

  Quark had put on his best suit on the day of the meeting. This was, after all, the first big function the bar had as an embassy, and he wanted to make sure that everything turned out right. Besides, Chek had provided a guest list, and some of the most successful Ferengi in the alliance were on it. Like the Twenty-Second Rule says, a wise man can hear profit in the wind, and the wind is blowing mighty loudly here.

  One thing he noticed was that none of them were in any way involved with politics—nobody affiliated with the Economic Congress of Advisors or with the FCA. These were all private businessmen.

  Quark had been right about something else: no females on the list.

  On the day of the meeting, he closed the bar early—much to Morn’s annoyance; the Lurian complained for the better part of five minutes at a very loud volume when Quark announced the bar’s closing, but Quark had long since learned to tune Morn out—but kept the staff on call. For the duration of the meeting, they were to stay in either the back room or their quarters until the meeting was over and Chek and his friends had free rein of the bar, games, and holosuites.

  Before leaving, Broik and Frool had set up an entire buffet table full of foods from all over the quadrant, the centerpiece of which was a huge bowl of the finest tube grubs, bred by the Depruu Grub Emporium. Quark had scooped a handful into his mouth before taking his seat at the long table that had been set up for him, Chek, and the nine businessmen Chek had invited along.

  “Ferenginar,” Chek said, looking at each Ferengi seated at the table in turn, “is in trouble. True, the general economic indicators seem to be favorable, and the ship of finance is sailing smoothly—but I fear that that is a temporary state of affairs, and the future will be devastating. Our entire way of life is coming apart at the seams, and once the novelty of these new reforms wears off, we will find ourselves in financial ruin.”

  Quark found he couldn’t argue with anything Chek was saying. He’d argued against Zek’s reforms back when they were just Mother’s arguments with Father at the dinner table. Even when circumstances forced him to argue in favor of the reforms in order to keep Brunt away from the nagushood—a memory that gave Quark nightmares for more than one reason—Quark had thought the ideas ludicrous.