The Greater The Risk
By Jixie 2/2018
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine © Paramount Television
Note: This is a sequel to "Kill The Envious Moon" and follows the events of that story. While it also references events from "178 Words For Rain", that is a stand-alone and not a prerequisite.
- Special thanks to the magnificent SaintEpithet, an exemplary beta reader, wellspring of great ideas, and authority on Trek canon.
Chapter 1: Courage and Cowardice
"Prepare yourself!"
It was the only warning Quark got before Grilka tackled him. In one fluid motion, she knocked him off his feet and casually tossed him onto the bed like a sack of potatoes.
"Careful with the jacket!"
"To Gre'thor with your jacket!"
Quark frantically scrambled to undo the decorative, fiddly clasp before she could tear it off him, which had been the all too tragic end for some of his favorite overcoats.
From the foot of the bed she tensed, the beautifully defined muscles in her thighs rippling. And then she pounced like a grishnar cat, pinning him, and began mock biting his neck and arms.
He finished squirming out of the jacket just in time, and she made a point to bunch it up and fling it across the room. The rest of his outfit was not so lucky. Grilka grinned smugly at the sound of tearing cloth.
Mock bites turned into aggressive kissing, sharp teeth flashing against sensitive skin. He grabbed her face and kissed her deeply, and for a moment she allowed it, but then broke away and continued the attack.
Alexander had been right. Qo'noS was not as bad as Quark expected.
It was one thing to be on the periphery of Klingon culture, it was another to be immersed. On Deep Space Nine, the visiting Klingons had been military men and women, either battle-weary or tensely ready for a fight. Those who weren't frustrated and looking for something to prove, were itching for the glory of battle. They were consumed with patriotism and had outsiders to impress... or to menace.
He'd thought that Grilka and Martok were the rare open-minded and reasonable exceptions.
It turned out the the majority were somewhere in-between. The homeworld was full of civilians and politicians, who cared deeply about honor and battle glory, but weren't going around starting fights every day.
People like D'Ghor were an exception, not a rule. On the whole they weren't exactly welcoming, but not one of them saw the Ferengi as any sort of a threat, and weren't interested in trying to challenge him. Tumek had seen this coming for a while, and wisely rooted out any obvious dissidents. Still, conflict from within the House of Grilka would always be a risk.
Ultimately, Grilka ended up receiving far more harassment than Quark did. As far as he was concerned, that was somehow worse- how dare they threaten her- and it left him feeling frustratingly helpless. Grilka, on the other hand, was already an old hand at this. She'd been through it before, when she'd taken control of her House. She knew what battles to pick, and how to prevent things from escalating, who her allies were, and who not to trust.
"This was political suicide, you know," Sirella told her.
"Why yes, the wedding was beautiful," Grilka replied, a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "The move went well, my husband is settling in nicely, and we're both very happy."
Sirella huffed, both amused and irritated. She, too, had inevitably been pulled into the Council when Martok had cleaned up. As the old was replaced with the new, he'd made a point to add more women into positions of power. The sole matriarch of a Great House had been a great choice; his own wife... perhaps less so. There were only a handful of others, and so Grilka and Sirella found themselves allies in a still male-dominated Council.
They'd developed a sort of friendly rivalry. Between Grilka, Worf, and his son Alexander, the lady of House Martok found herself hopelessly stuck in the mire that was inter-species relations.
Sirella hated it.
"It's bad enough that you had to have that perverted relationship with a Ferengi," she scolded. "But marrying and bringing him here is crumbling the very foundations of our Klingon heritage."
"Hmmmm, yes. It's all a part of my diabolical plan to destroy the Empire from within."
"Laugh if you must, but this relationship is unreasonable and unsustainable. You should have known better after what happened with your child."
Grilka swallowed back the rage and bile that rose up in her throat.
She knew how to pick her battles.
They started out with alternating schedule for their residence, spending a while on Qo'noS before shuttling back to Deep Space Nine for a few months. Broik, after years of dedicated service, was finally promoted to upper management. Of course he'd already stepped up to run the bar whenever Quark was off-station or otherwise indisposed, but he was happy that it was finally official- and even happier with the fat raise he was able to negotiate. The bar itself was doing well, business was good, and the bottom line was better. Quark would never admit that Broik probably did a better job running it than he did, and was irritated when Grilka bluntly pointed it out.
Strangely, one of Quark's biggest frustrations was the hollow victory that was marrying into wealth. He was finally set for life, but without having earned it with some kind of scheme, it was strangely disappointing. The game was just as important as the prize, if not more... he now understood why even the wealthiest Nagus continued his wheeling and dealing, and it wasn't just greed. It was something to do, something that gave a sense of accomplishment.
Grilka watched as all of this was coming to a head. Going back and forth between Qo'noS and Deep Space Nine was already becoming a chore. Worse, it was only making it harder for her husband to let go of his old life. She'd been married before and knew this would inevitably develop into some vicious fights.
He needed a job.
Much to Worf's frustration, he was slowly but surely becoming more ingrained into the lives of the woman he admired but had spurned him twice, and the obnoxious Ferengi bartender that he thought he'd seen the last of after leaving Deep Space Nine.
"...and wasting time on frivolous pursuits..."
The rest of the party roared with laughter as Alexander belted out impersonations... except for Worf, of course.
The small group been united by something greater than ethnicity, allegiances, religion, or politics.
It was board member Alexander Rozhenko who dubbed it "The Loser's Club for Misfits and Degenerates". Worf had been the inadvertent founder, and insisted he wanted nothing to do with it. Quark became the de facto ringleader, but was really just a pawn for his wife Grilka. It was hard to tell who was worse off: the horrible little Ferengi who had no business being on Qo'noS, or the depraved Klingon who'd intentionally married him. The Klingon-loving Trill Jadzia Dax was posthumously named a member of the board, which by extension, made Ezri Dax an honorary member as well.
Unofficially, membership included any alien crazy enough to immigrate to Qo'noS, serve on the Empires ships or stations, get married or adopted into Klingon families; the Klingons who loved them; and the hybrids who were born into it. Or anyone, really, who didn't conform: all of the misfits and degenerates of Qo'noS.
Having vetoed Worf on the prune juice, the official drink was Maparian ale with a hint of pazafer.
Their official motto, "Welcome to the club, Mak'dar."
'Club meetings' took place in Martok or Grilka's homes, depending on the mood. Martok himself was tickled, but it also meant Sirella was exposed to far more of the wretched inter-species nonsense she reviled. That, Grilka got a not-so-secret kick out of.
They were at Alexander's- and by extension, Martok's- eating and drinking and trash talking. It was one of the rare occasions Martok was able to join them, along with two of Alex's old friends, Katogh and Doran, who'd served with him on the Rotarran and the Ya'Vang during the war.
"-which is why fun should be outlawed," Alex continued, in an exaggerated deep voice.
"Excellent!" Martok boomed. "That sounds just like our Worf."
"I simply do not see the entertainment value in this." Worf's complaint left the others in tears. He did not see the irony, either.
"Do Quark next!" Grilka urged.
"Please don't."
"Nuchney. I'm Hwarfh, son of Cheldar," Alex teased.
Quark responded with some creative profanity, which only caused the others to laugh harder.
"No, fufh you. Yip yong ping pong-"
He scrambled over and started slapping the mixed-Klingon across the head, more annoyed than offended, knowing full well he could only get away with this sort of thing with Alexander. Martok pounded his fist on the table and howled, and Grilka was doubled over.
"Stop hitting me," Alexander said, laughing. "Or I'll box your ears."
Quark shot him a baleful look... and raised his hands to protect his lobes, just in case. "No fair. For us that's like getting kicked in the-"
"I'm not actually going to, you dork."
"Do Doran!" Katogh urged.
"See... see... I don't th-think thats, um, a good idea b-because, it's, ah..."
"Shut up." But Doran was giggling as she protested. "Wh-wait. Let me do Alex..." Grabbing a glass of bloodwine, she purposefully dumped it onto the table and her lap. "Oh noooo, not again."
This time, Worf laughed.
Another round later, and Martok started talking to Quark and Grilka in a voice that was meant to be a whisper, but was still at normal volume.
"I've been thinking about this. When you two first met, you discovered D'Ghor's double-dealing by reviewing financial records. It was very unconventional." He paused. "It's become increasingly difficult to uncover corruption and treachery in the Empire. I know that the work's not done, but those who are left have become quite good at covering their tracks." With that, Martok leaned forward, voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Could the evidence I need be found in the Empire's ledgers?"
"It's very possible," Grilka replied. "D'Ghor's actions left a trail, which Quark found pretty easily... since he knew what to look for."
"Child's play. And since most Klingons aren't exactly... financially savvy, it's likely you'll find evidence of any bribes as well," Quark said.
"Klingons don't take bribes," she quickly corrected him.
"Everyone's got a price," he argued.
"Would you be able to advise us on what to look for?"
"It would probably be easier if you just hired me."
Martok choked. "Hire you... to look a finances?"
"Yes!" Grilka said. "I think it's a wonderful idea."
"But..."
"Don't you guys have accountants? Financial advisers?" This earned him blank looks. "You can't be serious. You have a currency. Who- how do-" Quark hid his face in his hand in disgust.
"Look," Grilka turned to Martok. "Not only did Quark find D'Ghor's trail, he's also helped me with finances over the years. The cost savings were considerable, and he was able to minimize our losses when we were bleeding money during the war. I'm sure he could do the same for you. You could..." she glanced back at her husband, "... offer a percentage?"
"In addition to my usual finder's fee."
"Finder's fee?" Martok balked at the idea. "I don't know. It will be a tough sell to convince the rest of the Council to even review the books. Bringing in a Ferengi to do it..."
It was Quark's turn to pound his fist on the table. "A Ferengi is going to do the job better, faster, and more efficiently."
"I don't disagree, however... your kind have a... reputation for being untrustworthy."
"It's a well-earned reputation. But let's face it, even if there was a little bit of embezzling, you'd still come out ahead."
"Quark!" Grilka protested.
"What? I wouldn't do it. I'm only saying-"
"But it means you're thinking about it-"
"Of course I'm thinking about it, Grilka. It's a bad investment though, a high-stakes gamble with a poor payout. You only take those kinds of risks when the reward is substantial enough-"
"And I would kill you."
"And you would kill me."
"Enough," Martok interrupted. He studied Quark for a moment, then shook his head. "Let me think about it."
Almost immediately, Quark regretted accepting the Treasurer position for the Klingon Empire.
The Klingons did have accountants and financial advisers and controllers and payables and receivables clerks, because anyone who used currency had to have those things. It was just, by and large, they weren't very good at it. Grilka's attitude towards 'filthy ledgers' was a common one.
Which meant that it was an unglamorous job that they didn't do well.
Which was why their books were an unholy nightmare. He'd thought Grilka's financial records were a mess, but compared to the ruling government's, hers were downright competent.
"I should've charged a higher fee," he complained to her. "This is a mess. They're not paying me well enough for this."
But he'd brought armfuls of padds home to work on and there was an excitement in his eyes as he dug into them. Grilka watched, delighted with this new turn. She knew the Klingon Empire would benefit- both in uncovering dishonorable officials, and in getting a good return on investment. All while giving her bored and fussy husband something to do. As far as she was concerned, it was a win-win for all involved.
Their schedules occasionally overlapped, and Grilka did not hide her enthusiasm when it did. Her, in the Great Hall, as an ancillary Council member for the Klingon equivalent of small claims court. Him, a few rooms away, sifting through veritable mountains of paperwork.
This time they'd met for lunch, but he was too wound up to eat. He looked at her with wild eyes, desperately trying to explain the Gordian knot that was the Klingon High Council's ledgers.
"You've got to tell Martok to fire their accountants."
"What? That's not how it works here. If they've done something dishonorable-"
"They're worse than dishonorable! They're incompetent!" He was pacing, frenzied. "I need to hire some actual bean counters. I wonder if Rom can send indentured servants to work off their sentence time..."
She laughed.
"This isn't funny." He grabbed his head like it was going to explode. "It's a nightmare. I don't know how I let you talk me into this..."
"It was your idea," Grilka reminded him.
He shot her a furious glare.
It only made her laugh harder.
A few weeks after the fact, Grilka regretted encouraging her husband to accept the Treasurer position for the Klingon Empire.
She was practicing bat'leth fighting with Sirella. "I understand Quark's putting together some evidence for several corrupt Council members," she teased.
"All of whom have already been handled," Sirella replied. "There have been no new findings, which has made this whole farce a very costly mistake." A dark expression crossed her face. "And you don't even realize the trouble the two of you have caused Martok and the Empire."
Grilka ducked and parried, the blade rattling in her hand as their swords clashed.
"Oh, I'm quite aware. You've told me many times already."
"No, I'm not talking about the broader cultural implications." Sirella stopped, lowering her bat'leth. "I'm talking about Martok's position as Chancellor."
There was a pause, and Grilka hesitantly lowered her own sword.
"Martok has always had detractors-"
"All great leaders do," Grilka argued.
"I'm well aware of that. Do not presume to interrupt me."
"I will presume to do as I please."
Sirella sneered, but let it drop. "No one disputes his abilities as a General, or his place in the Order of Kahless. In fact, the worst of them sing of his military triumphs in the Dominion war." She raised her blade and the two began circling. "They say his talents don't translate to politics. They say he's unfit to rule because he was low-born." She laughed bitterly. "You know, all of the cardinal Great Houses are actually low-born or mixed. The entire Imperial Family line was massacred when Emperor Reclaw was slain. They don't sing songs about that, now do they?"
Grilka made a half-hearted swing, which Sirella all to easily dodged.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Martok's love of the Federation and Starfleet has always been a point of contention, and his efforts to reform the Empire's ruling class has made him enemies. Bringing in questionables like Worf and Alexander didn't help, and keeping you on the Council- even in your insignificant role- was another strike. But that damnable Ferengi-" she turned and flung the bat'leth. It struck the wall with a deep thud, embedding into it.
"You can't possibly blame Quark or myself for upper-class malcontents," Grilka said in disbelief.
Sirella went to retrieve her blade, but found it wedged tight. She pressed one foot against the wall for leverage.
"No, of course not," Sirella replied. "The problem, Grilka, is that the Klingon Empire is on the cusp of a revolution. And it will either evolve... or it will self-destruct."
There was a pause, as she struggled with the blade, and Grilka slowly began to see the depths of what she and Quark had stumbled into.
"If your husband succeeds, if he helps clean up the corruption and capitalizes the Empires finances, it will serve to solidify Martok's position. In a broader sense, the effectiveness of his work and of your marriage, will impact future relations with the Ferengi Alliance and likely the Federation." She paused, brushing her hands on her skirt before grabbing the blade again. "If he fails- or worse, defrauds the Empire- it may very well be the tipping point where the entire House of Martok family line is massacred when the Chancellor is slain."
Grilka approached and took hold of the lower hand-grip on Sirella's blade. Together, they managed to work it free, and Sirella stumbled backwards, only just catching herself before falling.
"Quark won't fail, and he would never dishonor my House by crossing the Empire." Even if no one else believed it, she had faith. "Rest assured, Sirella, our marriage will be an exemplary case for cross-cultural, inter-species relations."
While she knew in her heart all of this to be true, Grilka still felt a growing anxiety. Sirella was right about the coming changes. The fact of the matter was: regardless of their success or failure, there was a good chance they'd all be crushed in the death-throes.
A/N: Next up: Violence!
- Sirella did listen to Jadzia's history lesson about Emperor Reclaw, even if she really wasn't feeling it at the time.
- As touching as Grilka's faith is, let's be honest here: if Quark thought he could scam the Klingon Empire and 100% get away with it, he'd probably do it.