CHAPTER II

"If it's any consolation, she thought she'd lose, too." Each of the Betazoid's words carried the scent of black licorice and alcohol. He sat where the Ferengi had been an hour before.

Jonah didn't raise his head. He continued to play with the square of paper in front of him. Written in the middle in English characters warped by a Ferengi's hand was the number of a space port dock and a time, just less than 20 hours from now.

Jonah had barely moved since the Klingon woman break free from a sleeper hold. Up until that point, the human was dominating the fight. He had slammed her against the force field, pounded her face until she spit a spray of blood. Then he fell on top of her. First he took her leg and twisted it until he heard the knee joint pop over the crowd's cheers. Then he grabbed her hair and forced her head up.

When he closed his arms around her exposed neck, Jonah had already decided what to tell the Ferengi. He didn't expect the Klingon to ram her fingers into the human's eyes.

The human never had a chance to recover. After that, the Klingon grabbed his throat with her good arm and squeezed. The human did manage to get free after furiously tearing at her arm, but by then his larynx was crushed.

The fight was won. The Klingon crawled out from under the human. He slumped back against the force field, gurgling pathetically as blood poured from his eyes.

The crowd had one silent. It's not that they hated the Klingon, Jonah knew, but they knew this wasn't what anyone wanted. When she first stepped into the ring three nights ago, she declared she would keep fighting until she as killed in battle. Jonah was no expert of Klingon culture, but he knew the most honorable death they could hope for was by killing their enemy and themselves at the same time. Failing in that, being killed in combat was acceptable. Slowly dying from wounds was seen as less than undignified, just a little better than dying of old age. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to let anyone kill her.

"The owner's going to throw her out tonight," the Betazoid said. "I heard him think that the house lost too much money on her. These past few nights the odds were really high and the house didn't expect to pay. Poor Klingon's probably going to die lying in some pile of garbage. I don't think anyone would consider that an honorable death. Hey, are you going to finish that bourbon?"

Before Jonah could answer, the Betazoid had emptied what little liquid remained in the glass. "Cheers, mate. You're the best."

"You can read minds, right?" Jonah asked flatly. "Then you've got to know how close I am to ramming that empty glass into your face."

The Betazoid only smiled, showing no fear or offense. "There's no need to be rude. Actually, Jonah, you may want to start making some friends. You're about to enter into a deal with the Ferengi with no one watching your back. It'd be a lot safer kissing a Borg queen."

"That's the second time tonight someone's said my name before I knew his. I'm really getting sick of it."

The Betazoid extended his hand. "Call me Versinthe. It's not my real name, but a man should be allowed to name himself after his favorite poison if he wants to. I was the one who told the Ferengis where you were when they offered a reward for your location. So, in effect, I set you up with a great opportunity and you paid for all my drinks tonight. If that doesn't make us friends, I don't know what does."

Jonah ignored the gesture. "If you can read minds, you probably know what I'm getting myself into better than I do."

Versinthe withdrew his hand. "If I did, I'd gladly tell you everything to show what a nice guy I am. Unfortunately, I can't read a Ferengi's mind. That's just one more reason not to trust them. As it stands, I know only what you heard."

"So why do you want to be my friend?"

"Because it sounds like you're getting off this world. I don't think Sunyak tracked you down because you're good with a mop. And if I'm right, then you'll have the chance to leave this world and take a couple of people along."

Jonah smirked. "It's going to take a lot more than a few warm feelings to make me let a drunk tag along. Especially one who looks like he could get his ass kicked by a Bajoran."

Once again, Versinthe refused to show any offense. "I would welcome the opportunity to go. I'm a chemist and, granted, that's not the most useful profession to have on a starship venture. I also know a little about medicine, although less than any qualified ship's doctor.

"I can hear you wondering, 'Why should I bring him along?' so I'll answer before you can ask. My main asset is that I can offer you whatever support you need to make a sound decision. Ever since that incident three and a half years ago, you've had nothing but doubt for your own intuition. Rest assured that, with me by your side, your finer notions will see fruition while any bad ideas will vanish in a mist of silence."

"Such an intellectual on such a world of rejects. How did you end up here?"

"Like you, I'm a bit of a persona non grata. Unlike you, I can not say I did the right thing in the face of unfair rules and regulations. No, I didn't violate the Prime Directive to save the lives of hundreds like you did. I only ripped off some Cardassian drug lords by contaminating a batch of dry-rad.

"I originally came here to hide. I'd leave if I had anywhere else to go. The Federation criminalizes immigration, so that rules out the choicest worlds; Klingons are Federation puppets these days; Romulons disapprove of my kind; and anywhere else I'm likely to run into old enemies. The only way I can leave this planet without arousing attention is by going under an aegis of secrecy, such as one provided by a hush-hush mission."

Jonah rolled his human eye. "If you want a cut of the action, you ask the Ferengis for it. My share is my share"

"I've no issue there. All I need is enough to drink myself into oblivion when I'm not needed for anything else. I've still got enough squirreled away for that. Dying on any world but this one is reward enough for me."

"In that case, follow me if you want to. I really don't care. Don't expect me to stick my neck out for you."

"Very good. May I say I'm far more enthusiastic about being a member of your crew than you are about anything." Versinthe's smile widened. "So far, you have an advisor. The next person you recruit should be a good bodyguard. One who was loyal to you, the kind who's life you saved once and would be forever grateful."

Jonah shook his head. He was about to ask what meant when he heard a Klingon woman's voice screaming from the back. Her cries were just louder than a human bellowing, "Get out, you filthy slag. No more fights for you."

"Yes, that's who I was talking about," Versinthe said just after Jonah had arrived at the conclusion. "Her name is Korba. The poor girl was challenged to a duel by her younger sister, some argument over a man. Only a warlike race like the Klingons could be so passionate. They take romance far more seriously than we Betazoids do.

"As it happened, she could have killed her sister. Instead, she surrendered, unable to kill her own kin. It's sad, really. That act of compassion cost her everything, her family, her position as a gunner in the Klingon fleet, and set off the course of events that brought her here. Ah, the ties of family. Amazing how sometimes these bonds give us support and other times they strangle us, isn't it?"

Versinthe leaned closer, sending alcoholic vapors into Jonah's face. "So tell me. If you met someone without friends who wanted to die, what would be the greater act of mercy: to kill them or befriend them?"

Jonah heard the backdoor slam shut. There were no more screams.

"Why do you care what happens to her? More to the point, why should I care?"

The grin finally disappeared from Versinthe's face. "Remember what I said about making friends? I know you were betrayed by your old crew. They were just a bunch of Starfleet officer class who had no interest in your fate. It doesn't matter what you do for that kind, they think only of your career.

"Friends are different. Those who know that a better life for you means a better life for them will not sell you out. Trust is stronger than duty. Trust me."