Chapter Nine
Balmy Downs
Crawling up onto the back of the now diagonal passenger chair, Broik threw his head around, shivering from ears to toes.
"Wh—wh—wh—where are we?" he barely breathed.
"So you don't remember?" demanded Quark releasing Pel as he knelt upright.
He climbed out against the control panel with the help of the pilot's seat. Pel was quickly up after him.
"I… I don't know," said Broik.
"We crashed," Quark said with a shrug. "No thanks to you."
"It's not his fault," Pel replied. "It's the parasite, just like with you."
Quark glanced at Pel then back again and continued glaring at the bewildered Broik.
"What do you remember last?" Pel asked gently.
Broik thought briefly and then shook his head. "You and…" he glanced down the foot hold. "Dr. Bashir at the bar."
"Forget it, Pel," Quark retorted. "Like you said, he wasn't himself then."
"Why?" Broik whispered.
He was a man of few words. Always had been, Bashir recalled. Though, after flashing about him while beside him in the foothold he understood Broik more than Broik would have liked.
#
Broik evidently had things to say when given the chance with his own home and family. He was actually the most talkative there. His quiet hard-working father worked stably but not altogether profitably in the grand scheme of things in loading cargo in Ferenginar City. A lot like Broik himself. Keeping what they had was easy enough, gaining more, was something almost intangible unless Broik's father managed to get away with pocketing some of the cargo without anyone knowing, but then Broik knew full well Rule of Acquisition Number 95 "Expand or die." It haunted him the more life went on.
His older sister Ebaleem was happily married to a moderately successful owner of a small-scale cleaning service, and this had been even before the changes. It was for this reason, especially, that made Broik not understand the need for the changeover of the laws of Ferenginar. His father had let the gentle but persistent Ebaleem marry out of love rather than profit and everything, and the young husband had proven himself. He treated her with the utmost care and respect, and they lived comfortably in a moderate home in Ferenginar City with four children and a purebred Hupyrian itrtzys bat-lemur— very prestigious and good with the children besides.
The younger sister Keebelameen was married against their father's better judgment, however in his attempt to be fair after Ebaleem's marriage— in fact, Broik's father never trusted the character of her "beloved" who apparently was only marrying her to better take advantage of something that actually was going well for Broik's father. Broik was the one who gave dad the earful about it, and he certainly had a way with words when he wanted to, but alas, it was too late now that nothing could be done about the foolish younger sister and her foolish husband at all anymore. They could get away with being foolish and lazy so much easier these days, fooling with the new system to get paid for doing nothing through taxes of hardworking middleclass citizens.
"And these taxes do nothing to hinder the super rich!" Broik would complain. "Even Quark gets out of some of them somehow that he doesn't share with me."
But his father would always say, "If you believe in the old system, you won't sass about your employer."
#
Back to the present, Bashir shook his head.
Now was not the time for a Ferengi-style, Austenian drama.
He was going to assume that Broik had not known about his presence at all when he had come to senses and leapt out of the foot hold. If being trapped in a hole with a giant housecat scared out of its wits to get away was not a good comparison to what Bashir had just experienced after Broik's shriek, he was not sure what else was. A couple scratches on the back of his head and one of his hand were souvenirs of the tale. Too bad he had not also a medical tricorder with him, but maybe Pel had first aid somewhere. With hair on end, he simply sat there almost missing the Austenian drama as the pain registered to its full extent.
While Bashir was inspecting his injuries, Pel and Quark explained the situation to Broik in a rather chaotic and disjointed fashion. Bashir had no intention of joining them in their confusion, but just as he was lifting his head out of the foot hold himself to ask about Pel's first aid, he noticed something wet beneath his knees.
A shiver of revulsion went through him at first, but it was too cold to be from someone having an accident even if someone could have had an accident that ended up with so much of an accident.
Leaning back down, he discovered the source. Water was leaking in. It seemed to be picking up speed too.
"—Oh, really, I thought you'd be happy!" snapped Quark meanwhile as to an ex even though he and Pel had hardly been anything to begin with; apparently the explanation to Broik had ended. "It's everything the most sentimental female could possibly dream up. Saving baby animals and trees that haven't gone extinct in 10,000 years of Ferenginar history, and forcing people that give their own hard-earned money to people who want to support some old people's home because their families can't support them at home where they'd rather be anyway cuz they're paying stupid taxes for those trees in a now 'public' pond that no one can fish in anyway without a license that expires once a year even though originally all anyone had to do was cozy up to the pond purveyor and—"
"I didn't want this to happen! Honestly, I didn't. Why do you think I stayed on Pelipa? I know all about it!"
If there was one thing Bashir was getting really tired of— more than crashing and bashing and possibly even flashing— it was Ferengi politics. It seemed to be the main thing on all their minds. Not that he could blame them entirely as it all was an extraordinary change from what it had been and for so long, but if he had to hear anymore about it, he thought he might as well throw back his head and scream like a Ferengi himself.
"Please, Quark! Believe me, the last thing I wanted to happen on this planet was for the whole economic system to come to the verge of collapse!
"Well, 'Sometimes having more than you bargained for is worse than less,' the often misunderstood Rule of Acquisition Number 213!"
"My own grandfather lost half of Pela's Woods Incorporated because of a fluke in the new system your brother runs that my grandfather's manager found, and it enabled him to steal it to take revenge on him for calling his marriage to my widowed mother an invalid contract over ten years ago and saving her from that creep Dabri! It seems Rule of Acquisition Number 89 'Vengeance will cost you everything' doesn't apply to everyone."
There was a pause as Quark looked very hard at her. "Pela's Woods?"
Pel gave a nod. Evidently, Pela was known enough for Quark to have heard of it, or maybe it was chance.
Or destiny…, Bashir caught himself thinking.
"'Even at the worst of times, someone turns of profit,'." Quark said firmly, though not without a confusing sort of sympathy for Pel; he did not even seem to understand his own sympathy one hundred percent.
Perhaps hearing of Pel's loss of a father too had been a little too close to home. Maybe he just realized he had gone too far in bringing up this conversation at all given the circumstances. Whatever the reason, he sobered and simply sighed.
But just before Bashir could use this opportunity to explain the water now coming up well past his ankles, Pel added also rather gently now, "I guess, and then there's Rule Number—"
"How 'bout Rule Number 323," Bashir offered equally as gently, though a touch more pressing, "'Consider the philosophical value of the Rules of Acquisition outside of the sinking ship.'"
Quark rolled his eyes. "Well, it's not like we were planning on staying in here."
"There're only 284 rules," Pel added.
"We're leaking alright?" said Bashir.
"Yes, we got the diagnosis the first time, doctor," Quark replied. "We're just catching our breaths, okay? It's not every day a person crashes onto his own planet. Let's get moving before someone comes knocking— like nature-police."
So up they went, climbing in a most disorganized fashion through to the ship's hold.
"Hey, don't grab my foot," growled Quark to Broik.
"Ack!" Broik cracked when Pel stumbled back into him; she almost made him fall.
Bashir helped to steady them; though Quark almost losing his footing with the slip of a boot, almost had them all tumbling back to where they had started from. A strangled cry and Quark had himself resituated enough to help Pel up onto a crate, and Pel in return helped Bashir.
Over crates still sealed down and weaving through all that was strewn in between, the often made things tumble downwards regardless.
Bashir at the rear got the brunt of this. Some box almost hit him in the shoulder. And he audibly huffed when Broik almost kicked him the face.
Broik looked down with an expression that was something between apologetic and disgusted, but he said nothing.
"Oh, my ship…" groaned Pel grabbing a bag so she could salvage a few small items in particular. "At least I have my insurance for it at the Hupyrian Banks."
It was the Ferengi version of what Earth use to know as a Swiss Bank Account. They were run almost chiefly by Hupyrians themselves as no one trusted a Ferengi banker or insurance worker. Yet Bashir had to admit again, despite himself that a Ferengi tax collector seemed an odder thing to acknowledge.
As they came to the top, or rather the far back end of the hold, Quark paused to listen.
"I think we're almost completely submerged," he said. "Let's hope this isn't a waste pool."
Pel sighed and clicked the roof of her mouth with distaste at the prospect.
"Everyone knows how to swim then, I'm assuming," said Bashir.
Throwing his head down with a cheeky smile, Quark said, "The planet is comprised of at least ten percent more water than Earth, and certainly more freshwater. I'm pretty sure you can answer your own question of whether or not a Ferengi can swim."
"If you call the swamp sludge of Ferenginar fresh," Bashir could not help but remark back.
Broik gave him a funny look, but though Bashir was certain Quark heard him, he was not paying the least bit attention. Just as well. The lead Ferengi of the troupe reached his hand out to unlatch the back for the automatic door to turn on.
"Hold on, this is gunna be messy," he said.
He closed his eyes, cringed, and pushed.
An eruption of spurts rather than a pouring of liquid sloshed forth. Croaking and belching like some sickly living thing the liquid-substance was puked down on the heads of those below. Except that being at the bottom, this time was more of a benefit with three bodies to block Bashir from getting too dirty.
The smell of earthy dampness mixed with something that reminded him of rotting grass was almost a shock. The change in humidity
was like a warm wet blanket slapping him in the face.
After a few exclamations from all round, Quark leapt out on what was apparently still above water.
"Aww, and this coat's new too…" he heard Quark complain. "We're gunna have to swim for it, after all."
Pel and Broik were soon scrambling up behind him, and Bashir at the rear once more had more of the effects of the humidity and the smell to mull over before catching sight of anything of interest behind the pile of Ferengi. As he was finally given room enough to reach the top, he was beginning to catch the first sprays of mist too. He blinked into the overhanging hazy pallet of purples and reds more than greens of a canopy of foliage.
A tight, well-made force-field fence encircled a large portion of the swamp. Inside were shorter shrub-like trees which sprouted evenly spaced with long roots that dipped into the water like spider legs. Mushrooms grew along places not quite submerged— most about the size of a basketball. The canopy was rather low, and it was like being in a stifling tent, except that there was a very large hole where Pel's ship crashed through. There was no way to step directly onto land unless one wanted to run into the force-field or to try climbing along those roots to the tree tops, but these roots were so grimy and covered with slippery unsavory-looking moss that Bashir could not argue with Quark's assertion that the best way to get move forward was to swim and get it over with.
They would still have to climb at some point to get around the fence, however, but at a shallower spot in the water, at least.
The sounds of strange creatures and the musical hum of Ferengi machinery was intermingled in symphony just as Bashir had flashed about. Nothing could sound too irritating to the sensitive Ferengi ear. Bashir could not always tell, especially how everything echoed between the din of what might be comparable for frogs or crickets, what was an animal's sound and what wasn't now that his own physical senses were at work rather than a universal window through the time-space continuum.
It was strange to recall another person's past as nostalgic. He recalled quickly to mind that house of Gleb in the bayou. Although the sounds in that little home of Pel's childhood were somewhat different there— the air not quite as stifling, and the water not nearly as gross-looking— he was as lost in the memory of it, however, as much as though it was a place of his own childhood.
Scrambling up onto the last available space on this ship still jutting out of the water, Bashir looked again at the fence.
"Where's the owner of this— whoa!"
"Wah!" everyone cried out.
The ship shifted with a sudden screech and erupting swamp gurgles as everyone tried to steady themselves. Then it stopped. Now they had less space than before, leaving them uncomfortably close together in their huddle.
Suddenly, Pel threw her boots as far as she could for the nearest jutting stone to land, and with a huff she merely jumped in. Apparently, the fence was more to keep things from getting in through the water than people coming in from above.
The ship rocked again just a little, but this time without submerging any deeper.
"Oh, he'll show up soon enough," remarked Quark, taking off his coat and tossing it after Pel's boots.
Broik copied him, and both threw their boots over too.
"This is a kruniown patch," Quark went on. "Delicately cultivated for the finest tube grub feed. The best and crunchiest results. Very valuable."
"And this ship probably just destroyed the whole patch, I'm assuming…" Bashir mused.
Quark turned to Broik fearfully. "Well? Go on."
After a rather sullen look, Broik obeyed.
With a look of disgust himself at the water below, Quark winced and clicked the roof of his mouth in a way that looked like he had just been told to eat it. At last with a loud moan, Quark jumped in squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could.
Bashir could not say he was happy about it either, but the ship sinking further again. There was hardly anything left to stand on for
even one person by the time he took his leap.
The water was not cool or thin. It was a thick lukewarm mess, and he sunk straight down as into a soup on the table at breakfast from dinner the night before. Except grosser. He kept his mouth as tight as he could for fear of any of it getting in. Mushy reeds brushed against him, entangling themselves between his arms and legs with a texture similar to soggy crackers in that same soup. A squishy suction-like bottom tried to keep him down.
He tugged frantically.
He should have taken off his shoes like the others. Losing them both, he shoved for the surface and pushed towards shore. He reached Pel's side just in time to climb over the fence with the help of some low branches before she did, clambering like a cat out of sewage himself. Then he pulled Pel up out after him.
"It's okay, I got it, I got it," she insisted, but she still accepted the assistance.
Broik and Quark were fast behind, gasping and choking on the gunk from the swamp as the clambered to safety.
Bashir shook what lingered on his hands. He brushed down what he could from his clothes. Pel had a similar problem, but Broik and Quark could brush down their Ferengi clothes easily from the slop. They were still wet, but far less disgusting. Though being soaked was just going to have to be the way of it, as the mist was quickly turning into rain now.
As Bashir watched the Ferengi men with just a touch of envy, he suddenly noticed something wriggle in front of him. The slightest "eep!" escaped him as he halted his soppy stocking-clad foot from stepping on a horrible-looking almost neon blue slug that was probably poisonous.
But the creature itself was squiggling away quickly too with no interest in getting stepped on.
"So this is home sweet home, huh?" he said with a sigh.
"Tch! It's not my home," Quark said innocently. "Besides, now that we're out and you wanted to dispute Rules of Acquisition with a Ferengi—"
"'Home is where the heart is, but the stars are made of latinum,'" Bashir quickly recited.
Quark gave him a funny look and wrinkled his nose wrinklier with a grin.
"Good for you, but do you know the commentary says that—"
"'The home is only good for the heart and not much else?'" offered Bashir rather mischievously himself now.
Quark waved his hands in front of him and closed his eyes sagely. "Okay, see, now it's not cute anymore."
"Was it ever?" Broik whispered with annoyance.
Quark laughed humorlessly.
"Listen!" hissed Pel then suddenly rushing up to him.
Cocking his head, Quark cut himself off. Then he nodded. "Yep, time to go."
"Is he coming?" asked Bashir quietly as the other Ferengi began scampering away.
They didn't answer him, but he knew the answer to his own question. Whoever it was would find out the owner to the ship eventually, but it would take some time to get it out of the water. Even if all concerned did not want to have to pay for the damage to the kruniown patch, he knew they did not have time to waste haggling over particulars in a Ferengi dispute of that kind.
Maybe the damage to the ship would be enough to keep anyone from linking it to Pel. The planet was at stake. The swamp farmer or his hands would be compensated for, he knew, even if they never fully understood why. They would be freed from alien oppression. He could not help but feel just a touch guilty nonetheless as though they were naughty rabbits just escaping Mr. McGregor's Garden.