Ch 9

"Dax is different," Quark said, "and I think of her as a friend. She isn't some little Dabo girl sleeping her way through the casino circuit. I treat people as they deserve, and that you think I'd ever hurt her just shows that you don't know anything about me."

"I guess I don't," Bashir said. "To listen to Sarafina you're a regular genius, and I know Dax chooses her friends carefully. I have a great deal of respect for Sarafina's intelligence, so perhaps there is much more to you than I know."

Quark was glad that Rom chose that moment to show up for his shift, and he turned it over to him quickly. "Rom will look after you," Quark told Bashir. "I have a few things to take care of."

Bashir looked as relieved to be free of the conversation as Quark felt. As Rom - blissfully oblivious Rom - served Morn and Dr. Bashir at the bar, Quark went to Sarafina. "I saw you taking an earful," he said. "Did you hear what you wanted to?"

"I heard what I needed to," she said. "We should talk."

Quark nodded, and he saw a mixed group of humans and Bajorans enter the bar, laughing and talking loudly. "Let's get out of here and go somewhere we can talk in private." He took her to his quarters and pointed toward a chair near his bed. "Well?"

"I acted like a child yesterday," Sarafina said. "I'm sorry."

"I provoked you," Quark said. "I know we both said things we didn't mean."

"For what it's worth I respect you," Sarafina said, "and you were right. I did expect you to act like a Genoran instead of a Feringhee."

"And I guess I expected you to be more like a..."

She waited. "More like a what?"

"More like a daughter," Quark said. "We both had the wrong ideas about each other."

"But it doesn't change what you did for me," she said.

"So, now what?" Quark asked. "We still have business to attend to. If Dr. Bashir can isolate what causes the Romulan equipment to fail, and we can find out why your physiology is so different from the rest of the species we've encountered we'll need to plan how to exploit that information."

"Quark, I did something last night, and it's going to make you really angry. I let my temper get the better of me."

"I know. I did too. Let's put it behind us."

"No, I mean I did something else. I went to talk to Commander Sisko."

"You what? You might have ruined everything."

"No. He doesn't believe me. He said that he doesn't want to be involved in one of your little schemes and he'll talk to you about it himself if it causes any problems on his station. I wanted you to know so that you won't be surprised."

She is a child, Quark thought.

"I thought this was important to you," Quark said. "If the Federation gets the information before we're ready..."

"Then what?" Sarafina interrupted him. "Then they would help my people before you could make money off of us? Is that what would happen? While you're trying to find a way to make profit off of our situation the Romulans are preparing. I'm going to try to find a way to make Sisko understand that this is real, and if he won't believe me then I'll find someone who will."

"But if you do that the Federation will take over," Quark said. "You don't know how they are. It seems like a good idea, but once they have control it will be just one more project for them, and you can't know if they'll do any good with it. They're a bunch of maudlin, sentimental fools that will only put their own interests first, but they'll do it with the feeling that they're helping you."

"They hate the Romulans as much as we do," Sarafina said.

"They would have to encroach on Feringhee space just to get to your planet," Quark said. "They won't do that. That's why you need me. You don't know enough about the laws and traditions of the Federation to deal with them."

"No, but I can learn. Quark, I love you. I always will. You were my hero growing up, and I'd like to think you're my friend now. But I have to do what is necessary to help my people. If you want any sort of contract with me you have to find a way before I do. I feel that the Federation is my best choice, at least for the moment."

Her betrayal shocked Quark at first, and then he felt a warm tingling sensation in his heart. "It's almost like having a son cheat me out of my business," he said. A few tears came despite his wishes.

"Oh Quark, I'm so sorry!" Sarafina said. "It's just how it has to be!"

"No, you don't understand," Quark said. "I've dreamed of the day a son would come to me and tell me that he would start putting me on an allowance because he'd gotten the business away from me without me even noticing. This is the closest I'll ever come to seeing that come true."

Sarafina's mouth was open as if to speak, but she said nothing and closed it again.

Quark grabbed her, hugging her tightly. "This is suddenly one of the best days of my life. Thank you for letting me know what it would feel like to be a father, just once."

"I tried to understand Feringhee customs," Sarafina said. "I needed you to be proud of me, so I learned as much as I could, but I don't understand Feringhee at all."

"It doesn't matter," Quark said. "You have the lobes of one, even if they aren't visible. I only wish you were a boy, but I can't have everything."

"So that's what happens in your families?" she asked. "Your sons put you out of business and then pay you an allowance?"

"It's our hope and joy," Quark said, "the payoff of a life well-lived."

"You know this means our partnership is dissolved?" she asked.

That brought Quark back to reality. "You can't mean that. After all we've been through together?"

"It's better this way," Sarafina said.

Quark felt the world crumble around him, and as the visions of profits slipped away from his he felt lightheaded. Goodbye casino moon, he thought. He had only just realized what a large amount of money he was losing.

"Quark, are you ok?" Sarafina asked.

He shook his head, unable to talk. The floor seemed to recede and then sprung toward him. He landed on his knees, and Sarafina knelt by him.

"I think you'd better lie down," she said. "I'll get Julian."

Quark allowed her to help him onto a chair. "No. It's just a shock. I just need a few minutes to process this."

"At least let me get Rom," she said.

"He's running the bar," Quark said. "If he leaves then we'll lose customers. Just let me sit here and think for a bit."

"But Quark..."

"Sarafina, I want to be alone," Quark said. "This has been a bizarre day for me, and I think I just want it to be over."

She left, and Quark felt his equilibrium returning. He went to his bestroom and looked at himself in the mirror, trying to see the man who'd come so close to owning his own moon and failed.

"Failed again," he said. "Failed as usual." He had to retrieve anti-nausea medication from a cabinet as he suddenly realized the full implications of the conversation. His one saving grace was that he might make money off of Sarafina, which would mean his actions had been selfish after all, which would have made everything legal and ethical. But now that action had no benefit for him.

The door's buzzer couldn't have been less welcome. I'll bet she called Bashir. The Federation will corrupt her so quickly. Even after ruining my life - again - she'd try to help me. I'll bet she'll love root beer.

"What is it?" he answered the intercom.

"Quark?" he heard Rom ask, and he realized he needed his brother more than he'd ever needed him before.

"Come in," Quark said.

"What's happening?" Rom asked. "Sarafina said you almost passed out, but that you wouldn't let her get Dr. Bashir."

"Rom, I have committed charity," Quark said. He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. "I can't deny it any longer. I'm charitable, Rom. What can I do?" The last sentence was a wail of torment.

A high-toned wail escaped Rom. "No. Say it isn't true."

"Sarafina just ended our partnership. It means I did everything for less than nothing. Someone else is profiting off of my selfless actions!"

"That's disgusting!" Rom said. "You're exaggerating. I know you are." He sat by Quark and put his arms around him. "We'll find a way to get through this, but Nog can never know."

"I'll never let him find out," Quark said. "The Great Inquisitor will hold this against me though."

"He will," Rom said. "There's no getting around that."

Quark wished he could talk to Dax, who seemed to not only understand but be able to help him understand his own confused soul, but he didn't want to be shamed in front of her again.

"I think you should go home for awhile," Rom said. "Spend some time with Moogie. It will help."

"It would," Quark said. Moogie had turned his and Rom's room into a greenhouse, but he would love to hide there for a few days and just feel safe with her in the kitchen, humming as she cooked. Maybe if he asked nicely she'd take off those ridiculous clothes and he could feel comfortable around her again.

And then he realized why Rom wanted him to leave. "Wait. You're going to declare me financially incompetent and take over the bar!"

Rom looked embarrassed. "It might be for the best. You need help. You aren't well."

"I know I'm not well, but I'm not ready to get an allowance from my brother," Quark said, forgetting that for a couple of years Rom had been in that exact situation with him.

"I'd rather you go voluntarily," Rom said, "but if you get worse I'll force the issue legally. I'd rather have you angry at me and healing at home than dying slowly here."

"I'm not dying," Quark said. "I'll bounce back. I always do."

"You always do," Rom said. "Why don't you and Nog and I spend some time in the holodeck together? We still have that Jr. Trader program that Nog used to love. I can tweak it to be more age-appropriate for him. Remember how much fun we used to have teaching him how to apply the Rules of Acquisition after Prinadora left?"

"Those were good times," Quark said.

"And there will be good times again," Rom said. "I just know it."

Quark thought Rom sounded desperate. "I'm going to bed now," Quark said.

"Ok. In the morning I'll work on the program."

He couldn't sleep at all that night, and as he lay in bed reviewing his life, musing and examining every choice, every financial gain and loss he found himself making a tally as if he were the Grand Inquisitor. It tallied in his favor, right up until he added Sarafina into the mix, and then the loss side of the scale hit the floor with a loud thud.

There's no hope for me, he thought.

Quark liked to start his day about 5:30 Station Time, which was really just Bajoran Central Standard Time. He used the hour before the bar began serving breakfast to inspect the bar, do paperwork - whatever needed to be done before the day got busy.

When his alarm rang that morning he almost wanted to throw it against the wall, but he restrained himself. It was an old Nameday present from Rom, and he'd been very fond of it. Rom had gotten it from the temple, and it was an obsidian square that showed the time in glowing red letters. On the back it had an engraving that said, "Blessed by Hand at the Temple. Accept no Substitutions!"

How he'd failed Rom played on his mind. And Nog!

He pulled himself out of bed reluctantly. Even though he was glad to escape his long night of dark thoughts, he didn't want to face the day. He'd have to try to convince Rom that everything was ok, and then he'd have to deal with the root-beer guzzling, clueless human crowd that loved his place. It was Bashir and O'Brian's darts night, so he'd have to deal with them.

Setting the issue with Sarafina aside, Bashir wasn't hard to deal with, although he was so annoyingly naive about other races Quark occasionally wanted to either punch him or educate him.

O'Brian was a burr in his shoe. He spent a lot of time, and therefore money, in the bar so Quark stocked his favorite beer and had even let him put up that ridiculous dart board. But O'Brian loved to needle him.

Barkeep, Quark thought with disgust. It was low. It described a man with a dead-end job and no ambitions to rise higher.

That's how the hew-mons view me, he thought. I'll show them. I'll own my own moon yet.

The thought didn't give him the lift and strength he usually found in it. He had lost the deal of a lifetime, one that would have netted him enough profit to buy his moon and allow him to buy Nog entrance to a good internship someday. He couldn't count on Rom doing it.

I failed Nog, he thought.

When he walked into the bar it was silent and dark, illuminated only by the blue glow of the emergency lights. Even in the dark he could see that things looked in order, or at least orderly. The dark silhouettes of tables and chairs stood out, a solid measure of his success - or lack thereof.

He turned on the lights, and all the old sights greeted him. Usually familiar, the sparkling decorations and brightly lit bar made him melancholy. He ached for a time before DS9, before Sarafina, before the marines. There was so much he'd never told anyone about his time there, and his experience on Genora wasn't the worst. It was the only time he'd failed so horribly, but the things he'd seen...

He shuddered and put those thoughts aside, as always. It didn't help to ponder on the atrocities of war.

The bar seemed shallow and pointless, a warrior spirit's grave. Quark turned the lights back off so he didn't have to look at it. He just wanted a respite, a little escape from the wreck his life had become overnight.

Dax had looked so beautiful deep in the ecstasy of the Altarian Water, and it occurred to Quark that he could have just a sip of Altarian water - enough to allow him a much needed break without intoxicating himself.

The cool wine storage room didn't appeal to him, but he couldn't very well take the Water out. Sometimes Rom came in early in the morning for breakfast on his day off, and Quark didn't want to have to explain himself. It wasn't like him to imbibe expensive liquors, and he'd bragged about his uneven trade for the Altarian Water so much that Rom would surely know the bottle by sight.

He produced a standard shot glass, at least for his bar. The markings were off just enough to cheat his customers out of about 1/8 of an ounce per shot, but there were no standards for him legally in that area. The Bajorans had tried to regulate his bar, but all they could enforce were safety issues, and that was only because they - or he suspected Odo - had decided that his bar's safety affected the entire station. Sisko enforced an occasional food safety inspection, which Quark always passed with flying colors.

He sat on the cold floor and leaned against the wall. As he pulled the cork from the water the insects began to stir, waking from their long sleep. He watched for a moment as they buzzed about, lighting the dark room with small blue lights.

He poured a shot. Just enough, he thought. He wondered how much money he was wasting. When Dax had assumed it had cost a fortune she was only half right. It had cost a fortune for the previous owner, but Quark had gotten it as payment for a very high Dabo debt from a high-level official from some planet or other. He couldn't remember which one; it didn't matter. Quark had only had eyes for the delicate treasure he was acquiring.

He drank the shot, letting it flow over his tongue to savor it. He closed his eyes and waited for whatever sweet memory would temporarily blot out his current loss.

A bread and dried fruit taste filled his mouth, unpleasant and stale. There weren't any spices in it, and Quark knew the taste immediately. Romulan rations. It couldn't be anything else. Specifically the rations he'd eaten on Genora. The ones he'd shared with Sarafina.

A rank smell assaulted his nostrils, the burning rubber smell of buildings and the charnel, hideous smell of burnt flesh. Smells his own weapon had caused. He'd gone in after the first charge to clean up the survivors that might put up a fight, and one man with crazed eyes had attacked him, throwing a large stone and then charging at him with what looked like a kitchen knife. Quark shot him instinctively, and the Romulan weapon left a horrid, burning flesh smell that made him gag.

He opened his eyes and looked at the empty shot glass. Why? he thought. I can't even escape a bit? I couldn't have a nice childhood memory?

He felt the grit on his skin and the dust that rose up everywhere, obscuring the sights and making the ruined city even more nightmarish with its orange glow. The destroyed city looked like skeletons were standing in it, the remnants of ruined business buildings that stuck up through the dust. They were too stubborn to fall, but too weak to stand much longer.

Quark didn't so much remember as see what happened next. He knew he was sitting on a cold floor on DS9, but he saw the scene before him as clearly as if it was happening at that very moment. The crunch as he stepped on broken glass and the sound of cackling fire were the only sounds until he heard the Romulans laughing in the direction of their meeting place. They had chosen to meet in an abandoned factory downtown. It had escaped enough damage to be useful as a temporary headquarters.

"I only found one civilian left alive," Quark said. "I neutralized him." As he pushed open the door he smelled something he hadn't expected. There was a distinct tang of Genoran blood on the air, and the Romulans laughed from the next room.

"Come in here," one yelled. "We found some Genorans who are holding back vital information."

Quark wondered why this was followed by raucous laughter. He felt a chill run through him. He'd never been witness to torture, and he didn't want to be, but if his employers had to get information from a warrior that could affect their mission it wasn't for him to stop them.

He felt nauseous, and he couldn't force himself to enter the room. I don't want to see this, he thought. Maybe if I stay out here they'll forget me while they work in there.

"Quark!" their leader yelled. "Get in here!"

He complied, dreading what he'd have to witness. When he stepped into the room it was as if time stopped, as if the moment stretched on into eternity. Quark knew he was sitting on the floor behind his own bar. He knew what he was seeing was long past, but the carnage was in front of him, and it was as real as the first time he had experienced it.

Children lay in front of him, their little eyes open in death, and horror and pain on their faces. The Romulans had dropped them around the room wherever they had finished with them, with no dignity left to them. Quark's entire body felt cold and numb, and he starred, repulsed but unable to turn away.

Why did they cut their feet so much? he wondered. They had obviously been killed with disruptor blasts, but first the Romulans had tortured them. Why?

He heard a high-pitched female scream, and it took a moment for it to register to his shocked brain that the scream was coming from a table only 10 feet away from him, from a young girl who was struggling with a Romulan. The Romulan outweighed her by at least a couple hundred pounds, but he let the girl struggle as if she could free herself, laughing all the time at his joke.

"Stop!" Quark said.

"Oh, get over it kid," the Romulan snapped at Quark. He tossed a knife down before Quark's feet. "You have to grow up and be a man sometime. It might as well be now. You kill her."

Calm flowed over him, a complete and total lack of emotion. Every bit of the scene stood out in its original detail, the broad shouldered Romulan, hovering over him, smirking with a superior look to his sharp featured face. Quark saw the knife, bloody and waiting, and he saw the child's eyes. It was what had finally moved him to act, to break out of the trance he'd been in since he walked into the room. She didn't plead for help. He could tell she was beyond that, but she looked so sad, so terrified.

Something inside him snapped. He could still feel it, years later in DS9, that horrifying loss of control as he picked up the knife and studied it. "You're right," he said to the Romulan. "It is time for me to grow up and be a man."

Quark was fast, and before the Romulans could react he had pulled the disruptor from his pocket and felled the three of them. Then he saw hope in those little eyes, and suddenly the world revolved around getting that child to safety. She was his only hope, the only thing that kept him going, because she was the only one in the entire universe who needed him, and he needed something to keep him moving. He'd killed his employers, and he could only imagine what would happen to him when the Romulans found out.

He should have disposed of the bodies somehow, but he panicked. Again he acted without thinking, and he grabbed the child and ran, stumbling over broken pavement until he found a safer place to hide and try to gather his wits about him.

"It's going to be ok," he told the girl."We're going to get out of this. I promise."

In response she whimpered and put her head against his chest. He pulled a medical kit out of his backpack and began to treat her feet.

The scene faded, and Quark found himself on the floor of his own wine cellar. He was gasping for air and sobbing, but he felt a release.

I did it because I'm not a monster, he thought. It wasn't about his beliefs, or some inner sin. It was simply because when faced with the opportunity to choose between doing something that cost him financially or gaining profit at the cost of his soul, he'd chosen his soul. It wasn't just Sarafina that he'd saved that day. It was himself.

The bottle of Altarian Water sat before him, neatly corked and ready for the next experience of a luckier person than him.

"Thank you," he whispered to the insects in the bottle. "You knew exactly what I needed, didn't you?"

He returned the bottle reverently, and as he looked at his watch he realized it had only been a few minutes since he'd drunk the Water. Those hours of mental torture had passed in almost no time!

He felt shaken, but centered somehow, as if a most important question had finally been answered. Did it erase his sin? Probably not, but the Great Inquisitor might find in his favor. He wasn't charitable, that overhyped and misused hew-mon word for those who didn't know their own selves well enough to know that they were hurting the very people they thought they were helping. Rom would be glad to hear it, and hopefully this would be the last of his problems - at least in that area.

The ship shuddered and moved violently underneath him, a great lurching movement that threw him against the wall and onto the floor again.

What the hell? he wondered.

He stood and tried to reenter the bar, but he couldn't push the door open. Something seemed to be blocking it, so he went to the back entrance that lead to a utility corridor that only trades people used, and generally only for unloading freight.

The corridor was dark, and that immediately tipped him off that something was very wrong. Lights were dimmed on the station at night, but there was no blue glow from the night lighting. It was the black darkness of a power failure.

The station lurched again, but this time he managed to keep his balance by leaning against a wall. As the station shuddered in the opposite direction he fell against something warm, and he reached out to find an unresponsive body. He felt for a pulse, but found a sticky substance that he'd already thought he might encounter.

The lights came back on, flickering and unsteady, and Quark saw that he'd fallen next to a young Genoran male, and that the half of his head that was left uncrushed was completely uninjured, staring at him with the solemn accusation of the dead. Quark scuttled away from the body against the wall, but there were other bodies in the corridor. Genoran bodies.

Why would Genoarns be here? he wondered. This isn't real, he thought.

The thought faded when the station lurched again, and this time it didn't right itself as it should have.

They hit the anti-gravity control center, he thought. Any chance that it might be some sort of dream left his mind as one thought dominated him. I have to get to Rom and Nog.

He began to move down the passageway, leaning on the wall for support as the uneven gravity made progression difficult. It didn't occur to him that all of the bodies were Genoran, or that it was extremely unlikely for him to have lived when everyone around him had died. He simply set his mind towards his family and grimly made his way toward them.