Title: Escape from Ferenginar
Author: Melrick )
Copyright (c) 2003 Melrick
Synopsis: Ferenginar is in civil war, and Timan Raylan has found himself stuck on the planet. But when a mysterious person turns up, is this his key to freedom or is he in even more trouble than before?
Disclaimer: The Star Trek universe is owned by Paramount and no copyright infringement is intended or implied. The characters in this story, though, are owned by me. You do NOT have permission to distribute this to pay sites. If distributed, you must leave everything intact, including this header.
Chapter 1
Timan Raylan sat at a table in a darkened corner of some fleapit bar. The 'fleapit' was appropriately named "The Broken Arm" and was situated on Ferenginar. It certainly wasn't the planet to be on at that moment.
The bar's name was appropriate because fights were a common occurrence, and injuries like broken arms weren't unheard of. In fact, death was no stranger to the establishment. From the outside it looked filthy and run down; from the inside, it was worse. It was poorly lit and poorly cleaned; the smell of stale alcohol, sweat and vomit seemed to exude from the very woodwork. Looking around, Timan could see about half a dozen others from various races as they sat around small tables, looking sullenly at their alcohol. Most of them were either drunk or working hard at it. One pair was busy playing cards on the far side of the room. One of them was drunk; the other seemed busy fleecing his friend of his money. The drunken state of his companion meant it was rather unlikely he would even notice he was being cheated and, from the sick pallor of his face, would probably pass out fairly soon. There were no Ferengi drinking; only the tougher Ferengi drank there on a regular basis, and the occasional non-regular Ferengi that dropped by did so only out of desperation.
The unusually large Ferengi barman - large in height and girth - suddenly caught sight of Timan's empty glass and hurried over to him.
"Another shot of Gamzain wine, sir?" asked the Ferengi with an expectant grin.
"Sure, why not," came the weary reply.
"Perhaps you'd like me to leave the whole bottle, sir?" An even bigger grin cracked his face, revealing a surprisingly shiny set of pointy teeth. Surprising, considering the dirty appearance of the rest of him.
"How much?" he asked without any hope of ever being able to afford it. 'This should be interesting,' he thought to himself.
"Three strips, sir." The grin got even bigger.
"Three strips! Of Latinum? You must be kidding! That's bloody robbery!" He knew it was going to be expensive but that was ridiculous, even for a Ferengi.
"Well, these are troubled times, sir, as I'm sure you know. Getting supplies isn't as easy as it use to be. So, do you want me to leave the bottle or not?" The grin had suddenly evaporated.
"No. Not unless it's suddenly free." He gave barman a sick-looking grin.
"Funny joke, sir. Now, if you won't be drinking or eating anything, might I recommend you leave my establishment?" No hint of a smile now. A glance down to the phaser on the barman's right hip - clearly set to kill - convinced Timan not to argue. He would probably have been able to break the Ferengi's neck before he'd had a chance to go for his phaser - maybe - but that would certainly draw way too much attention. And getting attention was something he would most like to avoid right now. Besides, he really couldn't be bothered. So he stood up and shuffled out the door into the cold night air, the barman watching him all the way. Strangely, it wasn't raining at the moment. But for a race that had 178 words for rain, you knew it had either just stopped raining or was just about to start.
Timan pulled his collar up and wandered down the dark street, not surprised any more by how empty the streets were at night. A sudden explosion a short distance away had him diving into a doorway. He quickly realised it wasn't as close as he had at first thought, nor was it as big, just very loud. As his heart began to slow to a normal pace again, he began to curse his luck. And not for the first time since arriving on Ferenginar.
His reason for being on Ferenginar hadn't been one made through choice. He had been caught smuggling illegal contraband, including weapons, to Ferenginar. He had been smuggling for years and he had never been caught. But this time he had been set up. He was caught on Ferenginar, put on trial, and sentenced to ten years' in jail. The Federation had apparently been happy with the arrangement, making no request to transfer him to a Starfleet jail.
That was bad enough, but then a civil war broke out twelve months into his incarceration. It apparently started with the Grand Nagus making a series of catastrophic financial deals, which almost completely bankrupted the Ferengi economy overnight. That's bad enough for any race, but for Ferengis it was utterly devastating. And the result of this economic collapse was the Ferengis splitting up into two main groups: Those who wanted the Grand Nagus removed - preferably dead - and those who remained loyal to him. When the fighting had broken out in earnest, Timan had found himself able to escape from prison, thanks to all the confusion. Now his priority was to get off Ferenginar, which wasn't going to be easy.
He had found out that the Federation had ordered all starships to keep clear of Ferenginar. The Federation had seemingly left the Ferengis to their fate, taking a neutral stance over the matter. So almost the only ships coming and going were Ferengi, and they were almost exclusively war ships rather than merchant ships. And the merchant ships that did arrive were very well escorted and protected. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, and that's exactly how it had been turning out. So far he had spent about three weeks trying to avoid the fighting and the authorities while still looking for a ship to escape on. So far, no luck with a ship. He had come across the occasional Ferengi Marauder and even some modified Ferengi shuttles, but they were so well guarded that he had no chance of stealing them or sneaking on-board.
Still thinking about his 'near miss', he stood up, dusted himself off and was on his way again. He'd been walking for close to half an hour when a sudden, "Hi, baby," startled him. He stopped and turned to his left as a piece of the shadow disengaged itself from the wall. A woman walked towards him, 'human,' he first thought, but then what little light there was illuminated the nose ridges as she stepped closer to him, identifying her as Bajoran. The outfit that was desperately clinging to her was a flimsy and filmy affair. It ended high on her thighs and was split all the way up the sides to her armpits. He wondered how the 'dress' was actually staying together before he noticed traces of thin but apparently strong thread crossing the five-centimetre gap. The top part of the ensemble was equally interesting, with the neckline plunging down to her navel. It seemed a miracle of science that the material was actually managing to cling to her ample bosom. Each step she took appeared to defy the very laws of physics by not allowing the seemingly inevitable of her 'dress' - if you could call it that - to suddenly and alarmingly becoming even more revealing. But the material clung tenaciously to her very attractive body in all the right places. Or all the wrong places, depending on how you looked at it.
She stopped about a metre in front of Timan and, after striking a very sexy pose, winked at him in a most appealing way that said more than her words would be able to say. Unless she was particularly crude with her words, that is. "You look like you could use some fun, honey," she brought her face close to his, almost touching his nose, "and I know just how to help." The smell of her perfume, combined with the scent of spray-on pheromones designed to pluck at all the right sexual strings in a male, plucked firmly at his strings, drawing him deeper into her web. He was instantly hooked and would have happily picked her up and carried her to wherever her little hideaway was situated, and was about to do just that ... before he remembered his financial situation.
"Um," he swallowed deeply, "I don't suppose you'd accept an IOU, would you?" Her right hand had been busy feeling up and down his thigh in an expert manner, but the instant it was obvious that he had no money, her attitude changed. She took a few steps backwards and began vigorously chewing on something.
"Look, don't waste my time, honey. Come back when you've got some latinum, okay?" With that, she turned and began making her way back into the shadows again.
"Hey," he called after her, "what's your name?"
"Deela," came the reply.
"I thought this sort of thing was against Bajorans' religion?"
"We don't all believe in the Prophets, sweetie," she called back after disappearing back into the shadows once more.
Timan sighed and started on his way again. 'If I get some latinum before I leave,' he thought, 'then I'm coming right back here.' He looked around, trying to familiarise himself with the surroundings so he could make his way back quickly.
He'd been walking for no more than ten minutes before he was suddenly jumped from behind. If he had been paying attention instead of imagining what he could have been doing with Deela, then we would have heard the Ferengi police officers creeping up behind him. Unfortunately, the first thing he did hear was a phaser blast, just before he collapsed unconscious onto the ground. If he had spent just a few more seconds' conscious then he would have noticed that the rain had started to fall.
Author: Melrick )
Copyright (c) 2003 Melrick
Synopsis: Ferenginar is in civil war, and Timan Raylan has found himself stuck on the planet. But when a mysterious person turns up, is this his key to freedom or is he in even more trouble than before?
Disclaimer: The Star Trek universe is owned by Paramount and no copyright infringement is intended or implied. The characters in this story, though, are owned by me. You do NOT have permission to distribute this to pay sites. If distributed, you must leave everything intact, including this header.
Chapter 1
Timan Raylan sat at a table in a darkened corner of some fleapit bar. The 'fleapit' was appropriately named "The Broken Arm" and was situated on Ferenginar. It certainly wasn't the planet to be on at that moment.
The bar's name was appropriate because fights were a common occurrence, and injuries like broken arms weren't unheard of. In fact, death was no stranger to the establishment. From the outside it looked filthy and run down; from the inside, it was worse. It was poorly lit and poorly cleaned; the smell of stale alcohol, sweat and vomit seemed to exude from the very woodwork. Looking around, Timan could see about half a dozen others from various races as they sat around small tables, looking sullenly at their alcohol. Most of them were either drunk or working hard at it. One pair was busy playing cards on the far side of the room. One of them was drunk; the other seemed busy fleecing his friend of his money. The drunken state of his companion meant it was rather unlikely he would even notice he was being cheated and, from the sick pallor of his face, would probably pass out fairly soon. There were no Ferengi drinking; only the tougher Ferengi drank there on a regular basis, and the occasional non-regular Ferengi that dropped by did so only out of desperation.
The unusually large Ferengi barman - large in height and girth - suddenly caught sight of Timan's empty glass and hurried over to him.
"Another shot of Gamzain wine, sir?" asked the Ferengi with an expectant grin.
"Sure, why not," came the weary reply.
"Perhaps you'd like me to leave the whole bottle, sir?" An even bigger grin cracked his face, revealing a surprisingly shiny set of pointy teeth. Surprising, considering the dirty appearance of the rest of him.
"How much?" he asked without any hope of ever being able to afford it. 'This should be interesting,' he thought to himself.
"Three strips, sir." The grin got even bigger.
"Three strips! Of Latinum? You must be kidding! That's bloody robbery!" He knew it was going to be expensive but that was ridiculous, even for a Ferengi.
"Well, these are troubled times, sir, as I'm sure you know. Getting supplies isn't as easy as it use to be. So, do you want me to leave the bottle or not?" The grin had suddenly evaporated.
"No. Not unless it's suddenly free." He gave barman a sick-looking grin.
"Funny joke, sir. Now, if you won't be drinking or eating anything, might I recommend you leave my establishment?" No hint of a smile now. A glance down to the phaser on the barman's right hip - clearly set to kill - convinced Timan not to argue. He would probably have been able to break the Ferengi's neck before he'd had a chance to go for his phaser - maybe - but that would certainly draw way too much attention. And getting attention was something he would most like to avoid right now. Besides, he really couldn't be bothered. So he stood up and shuffled out the door into the cold night air, the barman watching him all the way. Strangely, it wasn't raining at the moment. But for a race that had 178 words for rain, you knew it had either just stopped raining or was just about to start.
Timan pulled his collar up and wandered down the dark street, not surprised any more by how empty the streets were at night. A sudden explosion a short distance away had him diving into a doorway. He quickly realised it wasn't as close as he had at first thought, nor was it as big, just very loud. As his heart began to slow to a normal pace again, he began to curse his luck. And not for the first time since arriving on Ferenginar.
His reason for being on Ferenginar hadn't been one made through choice. He had been caught smuggling illegal contraband, including weapons, to Ferenginar. He had been smuggling for years and he had never been caught. But this time he had been set up. He was caught on Ferenginar, put on trial, and sentenced to ten years' in jail. The Federation had apparently been happy with the arrangement, making no request to transfer him to a Starfleet jail.
That was bad enough, but then a civil war broke out twelve months into his incarceration. It apparently started with the Grand Nagus making a series of catastrophic financial deals, which almost completely bankrupted the Ferengi economy overnight. That's bad enough for any race, but for Ferengis it was utterly devastating. And the result of this economic collapse was the Ferengis splitting up into two main groups: Those who wanted the Grand Nagus removed - preferably dead - and those who remained loyal to him. When the fighting had broken out in earnest, Timan had found himself able to escape from prison, thanks to all the confusion. Now his priority was to get off Ferenginar, which wasn't going to be easy.
He had found out that the Federation had ordered all starships to keep clear of Ferenginar. The Federation had seemingly left the Ferengis to their fate, taking a neutral stance over the matter. So almost the only ships coming and going were Ferengi, and they were almost exclusively war ships rather than merchant ships. And the merchant ships that did arrive were very well escorted and protected. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, and that's exactly how it had been turning out. So far he had spent about three weeks trying to avoid the fighting and the authorities while still looking for a ship to escape on. So far, no luck with a ship. He had come across the occasional Ferengi Marauder and even some modified Ferengi shuttles, but they were so well guarded that he had no chance of stealing them or sneaking on-board.
Still thinking about his 'near miss', he stood up, dusted himself off and was on his way again. He'd been walking for close to half an hour when a sudden, "Hi, baby," startled him. He stopped and turned to his left as a piece of the shadow disengaged itself from the wall. A woman walked towards him, 'human,' he first thought, but then what little light there was illuminated the nose ridges as she stepped closer to him, identifying her as Bajoran. The outfit that was desperately clinging to her was a flimsy and filmy affair. It ended high on her thighs and was split all the way up the sides to her armpits. He wondered how the 'dress' was actually staying together before he noticed traces of thin but apparently strong thread crossing the five-centimetre gap. The top part of the ensemble was equally interesting, with the neckline plunging down to her navel. It seemed a miracle of science that the material was actually managing to cling to her ample bosom. Each step she took appeared to defy the very laws of physics by not allowing the seemingly inevitable of her 'dress' - if you could call it that - to suddenly and alarmingly becoming even more revealing. But the material clung tenaciously to her very attractive body in all the right places. Or all the wrong places, depending on how you looked at it.
She stopped about a metre in front of Timan and, after striking a very sexy pose, winked at him in a most appealing way that said more than her words would be able to say. Unless she was particularly crude with her words, that is. "You look like you could use some fun, honey," she brought her face close to his, almost touching his nose, "and I know just how to help." The smell of her perfume, combined with the scent of spray-on pheromones designed to pluck at all the right sexual strings in a male, plucked firmly at his strings, drawing him deeper into her web. He was instantly hooked and would have happily picked her up and carried her to wherever her little hideaway was situated, and was about to do just that ... before he remembered his financial situation.
"Um," he swallowed deeply, "I don't suppose you'd accept an IOU, would you?" Her right hand had been busy feeling up and down his thigh in an expert manner, but the instant it was obvious that he had no money, her attitude changed. She took a few steps backwards and began vigorously chewing on something.
"Look, don't waste my time, honey. Come back when you've got some latinum, okay?" With that, she turned and began making her way back into the shadows again.
"Hey," he called after her, "what's your name?"
"Deela," came the reply.
"I thought this sort of thing was against Bajorans' religion?"
"We don't all believe in the Prophets, sweetie," she called back after disappearing back into the shadows once more.
Timan sighed and started on his way again. 'If I get some latinum before I leave,' he thought, 'then I'm coming right back here.' He looked around, trying to familiarise himself with the surroundings so he could make his way back quickly.
He'd been walking for no more than ten minutes before he was suddenly jumped from behind. If he had been paying attention instead of imagining what he could have been doing with Deela, then we would have heard the Ferengi police officers creeping up behind him. Unfortunately, the first thing he did hear was a phaser blast, just before he collapsed unconscious onto the ground. If he had spent just a few more seconds' conscious then he would have noticed that the rain had started to fall.