"Is it just me, or do the stars shine a little brighter in the Gamma Quadrant?" Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer Starbase Deep Space 9 Circa 2372.
Whilst his once youthful enthusiasm for every wonder of the universe had been slowly beaten out of him during his tenure aboard the far flung outpost that was Deep Space Nine, Bashir still hadn't quite let the magic of watching the wormhole's event horizon open.
The Celestial Temple, the passage, the wormhole, whatever the definition it was as much a part of Bashir's life as the station itself, or Bajor for that matter. He couldn't help reflect as he watched the vortex open before him on what had happened to him over the last eight years.
Since the end of the war traffic in and out of the Gamma Quadrant had been slow to take off. Understandable trade, which had been primarily luxury based, with the Gamma Quadrant wasn't high on any power's priorities. With entire world's to rebuild and entire population's struggling to feed themselves elderberry wine could sit on shelves in warehouses on Karemma Prime thank you very much.
The Defiant's successful mission of peace, cooperation and exploration over the summer had gone to great lengths to renewing confidence that trade was indeed possible on the Gamma end of the wormhole. This was helped further after the colony on New Bajor was re-established. All of a sudden a Federation world had an outpost in the Gamma Quadrant.
Naturally the first to seize upon this re-emerging market was the Ferengi Alliance. Bashir now was now looking at a porthole toward the two lumbering D'Kora class vessels making slow their approach to moor with the station. The first was the FMS Grand Nagus Zek, owned directly by Grand Nagus Rom and named after his predecessor the Grand Nagus Zek was the defacto Alliance flagship and thusly had been sent to lead the Ferengi's first mission into the Gamma Quadrant this side of the war. The second vessel, its pilot no doubt cautiously watching the Grand Nagus Zek gradually easing it's mass toward an upper pylon, was called the FMS Acquisition. It was owned by Gaila, Quark and Rom's cousin no less. It was, like the majority of the Alliance's merchant fleet privately owned and leased back to the government as and when needed. This particular vessel was leased on favourable "family" terms. Both vessels had been employed, along with most of the Ferengi fleet, in aid operations around the Quadrant in the wake of the devastation wrought by the recent conflict. The D'Kora Class' cavernous cargo bays made the ideally suited for evacuations, food supply runs and various other humanitarian operations which out of loyalty to old friend and in the interests of interstellar diplomacy Rom had deferred payment until the Federation and its allies found themselves on surely financial footing. At a small rate of interest of course. Rom was a nice guy, but he was still a Ferengi.
Bashir's interest in the arrival of these two vessels was vested thanks to a meeting he'd had with Captain Kira the previous evening where she reminded the Doctor that medical and humanitarian aid would be given to any Ferengi vessel in the Gamma Quadrant. The promise had been made at the negotiation table with the Grand Nagus when obtaining the use of the Ferengi fleet in the rebuilding process.
"I don't genuinely think they actually anticipated the Ferengi Alliance being in a position to renew trade with the Gamma Quadrant for a significant amount of time," Kira said.
"Or they over-estimated how quickly we'd be running routine missions that side of the wormhole," Bashir had argued the alternative interpretation. A rather valid one as since the Defiant's return not a single Starfleet ship had gone further than New Bajor.
"Be that as it may the Admiralty have left it up to me to assign Starfleet personnel to their expedition." With that statement Kira contemplated that that was another perk of being part of Starfleet, along with all the bureaucracy...
"And you've chosen me?" Bashir laughed. He tried to keep the laugh neutral, but as always few things with Julian were ever neutral. He'd served with Kira a very long time, in fact both of them represented the longest serving officers aboard Deep Space Nine having both been part of the original crew when the Cardassians abandoned the then named Terok Nor in 2369, and in all that time she'd always been fair.
"Doctor," she said sensing his unwillingness.
Bashir, realizing his laugh hadn't come across as neutral as he'd intended held up a hand both to interrupt and to ask forgiveness.
"Of course I will go, it's just..." he trailed off.
Kira's eyes sought out his and they urged him to continue.
Bashir had bought himself a few moments to try and fathom an excuse not to go. He had no life threatening illnesses to treat, no scheduled important surgeries, not scientific experiments on the go, in fact there was nothing in sickbay Doctor Tarses couldn't handle.
Defeated his shoulders slumped and he decided to throw out a joke, and make the most of it. "... just I have nothing to wear."
Kira accepted the Doctor's joke as a "Sir Ma'am" and nodded him dismissed.
Now stood on the promenade looking up at the next three weeks of his life Bashir questioned where his sense of adventure had gone to? With all that was always happening, both politically, militarily and personally it had been a long time since he'd turned his keen intellect introvertedly. The young man he once was, the one eager to visit a world plagued by the blight, or help a Jem'Hadar's mission to free his squad of ketracel-white addiction, was gone and in his place a wiser, greyer, much less adventurous man. And potentially, Bashir thought letting his eyes refocus on his reflection in the glass, a man he liked a lot less.
Quark's bar was a hub of activity as always. Declared as the Ferengi embassy to Bajor and therefore sovereign Ferengi territory, meant hard currency could still flow freely. So surrounded 360 degrees by a money-less economy business was booming! Quark's had become more than a mere bar or purveyor of holo-suites and gambling attractions it had become THE meeting place for more capitalism alien races to gather to discuss trade deals, and of course provide the Ferengi Alliance was eyes and ears on all those trade deals.
Quark, Ferengi Ambassador to Bajor, was today wiping his bar down with a slightly damp green rag. An afternoon of drunk Talarians boasting about their Empire's conquest of some insignificant rock on the Tzenkethi border and knocking over their drinks in their lack of sobriety had left the bar covering in a fine sticky residue, which just wasn't good enough for the number 1 bar in the sector.
Treir, Quark's former dabo girl and now business associate, worked the floor. Meeting, greeting, greasing the right palms and whispering in the right ears. The last part made Quark tingle, she can certainly whisper in my ears anytime, he thought with a cackle. As if she'd heard him Treir starting to make her way toward the bar.
"Did she hear me?" Quark said to himself gulping and bracing for another tirade of abuse for his inappropriate attitude to females.
"Quark," Treir said, her tone was pleasant. A relieved Quark set his rag down and turned to her.
"You're not gonna like who just walked in." As she said it Quark's eyes darted to the bar's entrance as two Ferengi stood admiring the decor.
"Great," Quark said sarcastically as he noticed the first of them was former Liquidator Brunt.
"What does he want?" Quark asked rhetorically.
"Game face Quark," Treir reminded him. Her Ferengi partner gave her a knowing wink and turned to another miscellaneous Ferengi bartender who'd been worked alongside.
"Look after the bar a minute," he said and after receiving a confirming nod from the bartender moved towards his guests.
Arms outstretched in his usual platonic welcome Quark bared his full set of jagged teeth in his biggest, and he hoped, warmest smile. He and Brunt had history that was true, but with Brunt you never quite knew where he might pop up next, and working for whom.
"Brunt!" Quark announced, he was doing his best interpretation of that "Game face" Treir had wanted. Then turning to Brunt's companion who he hadn't recognized from the bar Quark stopped in his tracks. For Brunt's companion was a... fully clothed... Ferengi Daimon... female.
"Ah Quark," Brunt said his usual tone commencing. It was a mixture of sarcasm and loathing badly hidden behind a kind of creepy charm. Quark had seen Brunt down and out, and this Brunt was definitely not down and out. He wore no military or naval insignia to identify him as potentially a Daimon, but his lavishly coloured clothes said he definitely had money.
"I'm here by order of the Grand Nagus," Brunt began.
"My brother," Quark was quick to remind him, hopefully as a slight defence if Brunt was planning some horrible fate for Quark like usual.
"Certainly," Brunt said breezing over that little point, "I represent the Congress of Economic Advisors," he said proudly, "And this..." Brunt turned exposing his companion to Quark for the first time.
"Is Daimon Zoggie, of the FMS Acquisition."
Zoggie was small lobed, as all females were, with very soft nose ripples. Her teeth looked as if they hadn't been sharpened in a very long time and had grow flat and wide like a hew-mons. Her attire was obviously expensive, but without the bravado of Brunt's outfit. It was slim fitting, of a gold and blue hew, and utilitarian. She wore her ship's insignia on her chest and her rank pips on her collar, which was new for Ferengi Quark thought... damned Starfleet influence.
"A pleasure," Zoggie said nodding her salutation.
Quark was like a deer caught in headlights, he'd never been greeted by a Ferengi female before, nor never met a Ferengi Daimon before and had absolutely no idea what to do.
Thankfully, as always, Treir was on hand to step in and save him. She'd been observing the proceedings with interest, terrified Brunt was there to revoke the bar's embassy status on some technicality he'd managed to find as part of some elaborate get-rich and get-even scheme. But she'd clocked the fact that Brunt's companion was female the second Quark had and stepped in now to save Quark from his stupor.
"The pleasure is all his," Treir said stepping in front of Quark and taking Zoggie's hand in a traditional Orion greeting.
The Daimon seemed to accept this, obviously being where she was now she'd must've dealt with more than a few stunned or outright hostile male Ferengi before this.
It gave Quark the second his brain needed to catch up.
"All this pleasure," Quark said shooting suggestive eyes at Treir and, feeling brave, Zoggie. "To what do I owe it?" having been totally blanked by both females he directed the question at Brunt.
"The Gamma Quadrant Quark."
"Sure, big place, home to the Dominion. Not a fan myself, but I'll sell you a tour guided by a good friend of mine he's - "
"We're headed to the Gamma Quadrant Quark, and you," Brunt said, his already wide grin widening even further.
"Are coming with us."
"First!" cried Second Gongarta'tar from his station over the crashing of bulkheads and the exploding of consoles.
But the first was gone, his body pinned under the bridge primary crossing beam which had collapsed. The first's body lay only a foot from where a console had previously exploded and killed the Vorta.
"I am First," Gongarta'tar said proudly to the bridge, he looked up from his controls for the first time to find himself alone on the bridge. All of his fellow soldiers lay slain, all of them heroes to the Dominion having honoured their gods in death.
"First Gongarta'tar to ship. The Vorta is dead, the First is Dead. We have lost communications. I am initiating ramming speed. Glory be to the Founders."
Gongarta'tar had reached the age of seven, no small feat for a Jem'Hadar on this frontier of Dominion space, and hadn't sought death anymore than any Jem'Hadar would. Of course he was ready to die in service to the Founders and looked forward to honouring them with his death. But as he piloted his wrecked, atmosphere venting battle cruiser on its final journey toward the enormous Borg Cube that had laid waste to the thirteen Jem'Hadar warships that had assembled in the Venraer system he couldn't help but worry. Not worry for his own wellbeing or that of his men you understand, but for the Founders. Granted they were gods and knew all and saw all, but if they and the Vorta were all killed... killed by these monsters then who would be left to worship them?
Gongarta'tar's final thoughts were of the Founders as his ship, taking continuous blasts from the unstoppable Cube plunged straight into a lower section of the Borg vessel. The collective barely even noticed the loss of a dozen or so drones.
The Cube made a final sweep of the system, identifying life signs aboard the one crippled remaining Jem'Hadar vessel. Transporters were used to collect and assimilate those lifesigns and then the Cube entered warp.