CHAPTER III
"Trust me," Versinthe said. "I would have been a doctor if I didn't drop out of med school."
Korba didn't exactly resist Versinthe's efforts to take her wounds, but she didn't cooperate either. She offered no resistance when they picked her up beyond grunting a Klingon curse. She hadn't said a word since the two of them carried her from the alley behind the bar to Versinthe's squalid one-room apartment. Jonah figured she was unconscious for most of the time.
Remembering the night, Jonah was amazed he was able to walk across the floor of empty liquor bottles without breaking his ankles. More than that, he was amazed that Versinthe managed to pull out a black bag's worth of medical instruments from the tattered knapsack he used as a pillow.
It only took a few minutes for Versinthe to go through all his electronic instruments. When he was done, Korba's face was notably less swollen and her breathing was less labored. But she was still a mess. Apparently, whatever equipment Versinthe had for knitting bones together no longer worked.
It took Jonah and Versinthe two extra hours to put one of her legs in a splint, put her arm in a sling, improvise a shoulder immobilizer for a broken clavicle and lash together a pair of crutches from metal parts found in the trash. By the time Jonah had finished the last knot, he noticed Versinthe was passed out in a pile of dirty clothes.
Jonah himself had just enough energy to get back to the bunkhouse he called home for the past three cycles. He climbed inside his coffin-sized sleeping compartment, hooked his cyberware to the charging cords, and tried to catch a an hour of sleep.
It never came. All he could do was think about Sunyak's proposition.
Every time Jonah saw a new ship enter the spaceport, he sad a silent prayer that, somehow, he could be a captain again, that somehow, he would be given the opportunity again despite his past disgrace. Now that it happened, he was more terrified than he could admit to himself.
If Versinthe hadn't come along, Jonah had no doubt he would have deliberately skipped his appointment with Sunyak. The truth was, he doubted he actually could command respect from a crew.
He thought he had his crew's respect before, but when the crucial moment came they abandoned him. Up until that point, Jonah thought he knew everything. He was, after all, the highest scoring cadet in the history of the Starfleet Academy. Even the professors who chastised him for his cocksure disposition couldn't help praising his abilities. His career was moving quickly he seriously believed he'd make admiral before turning 40. Not bad at all for someone with working class roots.
All it took was one bad decision to end it all. Despite the consequences, Jonah couldn't bring himself to regret what he had done. As captain, he always felt his first duty was to his crew, no matter what they thought of him. He saved the lives of those who counted on him. If he had it all to do over again, he would have done the same.
Jonah turned over and thought of Versinthe. It was hard to like Betazoids, as they always knew what you were thinking and rarely gave a clue about their true motives. Worse, they had no respect for privacy. They were known for casually going through people's thoughts, memories and subconscious urges as casually as one would notice signs along the road.
So Jonah wondered, what did Versinthe hope to gain by helping him? It couldn't be a swindle, as all Jonah had were a few changes of clothes and just enough extra credits to go to a bar a few nights a week. The only conclusion that made sense was that he was a self-loathing alcoholic who wanted one last adventure.
Overall, he was still a lot more trustworthy than Sunyak. Jonah prided himself in not being a racist, but Ferengi culture was one built on competition and subterfuge. And Sunyak had pressured him into accepting a job without telling him what it was first. Jonah wouldn't have blamed anyone for calling him an idiot for getting into such a situation in the first place.
Jonah managed to fall asleep just as alarm went off. He had pulled his work clothes out from a drawer near his feet when he decided, forget it. He was committed to Sunyak's venture. For almost three cycles he slaved away at that brainless job, not saying a word for fear it'd jog someone's memory about the interstellar scandal he caused. This was a chance to get away from that, perhaps the only chance he'd get.
Jonah lay in the compartment for a few more sleepless hours. Finally he got up, packed what few possessions he had into his jacket pockets and climbed out.
He spent most of the rest of the day wondering around the city. It always did rain here; Jonah was sure if there was a sunny day in the past three years it would have stuck out in his memories. There were days when it was only a misty drizzle, and those were few and far between.
Ultimately he wandered back to Versinthe's apartment. The Betazoid was awake and visibly drunk. Even though he was stumbling over his own garbage, he still had enough balance to help Korba put crutches under her arms.
The Klingon still hadn't said a word. She seemed to be disassociating from everything around her. Jonah started wondering if she had gotten brain damaged from her fights. Versinthe, however, insisted she was cognitive and more than grateful for all their help.
In any other world, the sight of a drunken Betazoid supporting a stumbling Klingon as they followed a surly cyborg would have aroused attention. On this nameless backwater neutral zone world, though, they were one of the least freakish packs traveling down the street. No one stood in their way.
Jonah was glad that Sunyak arranged to meet on the opposite side of the docks from where he worked. He had to skip his shift to help Versinthe take care of the Klingon for the rest of the night and most of the day. The last thing he wanted was to run into his supervisor. He was finally feeling better about himself, and the last thing he needed was to be dressed down in front of his new associates.
Sunyak was already at the space port when Jonah arrived. "Right on time," the Ferengi said, glancing at a watch hung around his neck. "I respect that. It shows discipline. Well, climb aboard."
Sunyak gestured to a compact shuttle behind him. "I don't know why you brought these two along, but you're the only one I'm interested in hiring."
"They're with me," Jonah said. "As far as I'm concerned, they got me into this mess. Him, by telling you where I was, and her by making me lose a bet."
"We already have a crew assembled for you."
"Then we now have a backup gunner and an assistant to the ship's doctor. They're coming with me."
"Oh, those are their specialties?" Sunyak rubbed his chin. "All right, they can come, but their pay will mean a smaller share for you."
The shuttle was every bit as spartan on the inside as it was on the outside. Just as the exterior didn't have any paint covering its meteor-beaten hull, the inside consisted of two passeger seats with shredded coverings. Sunyak climbed into the pilot's seat and gestured for Jonah to take the co-pilot's position.
"Let me give you a little background, Jonah," Sunyak said as he steered his ship out of the docks. "As you know, the Federation doesn't look kindly on trade. They've gotten rid of money and demonized the accumulation of private wealth so it wouldn't be an 'incentive.' However, they can't stop people from wanting more than they're given. You really can't stop them from wanting what they're not allowed to have.
"This has led to a thriving black market industry that stretches across Federation's borders. Federation credits may be almost worthless, but anyone can convert their assets into valuable goods. The system is safer to deal in than you may think because the government usually turns a blind eye to the trade. In the end, they're the ones that benefit from some economic stimulus."
"Of course, the Ferengis couldn't avoid getting involved in this," Jonah said. He glanced behind him. Versinthe was passed out with his head thrown over the back of the chair. Korba glared right back. She really didn't seem that grateful
"It's not just us. The Romulans have been in on this racket since it started. They set up trafficking routes right after they realized humans would pay for their ale."
The shuttle began passing through the thick clouds. Soon, Jonah told himself, I'll see the stars for the first time in almost three years. Hard to believe it's been so long.
"If the Romulans just stuck to ale, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now," Sunyak continued. "But they didn't. They realized just how profitable that racket was and started muscling in on our action."
Jonah's jaw dropped when he saw the stars again. So many small lights sparkling in the endless black of space stretching back further than comprehension would allow. It had been so long, he forgot the quiet sense of wonder they filled him with. He felt the same way he did the first time he went Earth's orbit, strangely comfortable in the endless void.
"And I mean all areas of our action. They've got their own versions of everything we've got - weapons, drugs, real alcohol, clothing, gems, artifacts both genuine and bogus, and practically any other luxury you can name.
"Now, normally, us Ferengis would welcome a little friendly competition. I mean, trade is to our culture what violence is to the Klingons. It's what we live for. But the Romulans have an unfair advantage. Not only is their empire larger than our alliance, its planets contain more raw materials than ours do. That means they can make most of the things we have to import to resell."
"In other words, they can sell for less than you and make more of a profit," Jonah said, still staring out the window. Somewhere out there, he thought, was Nede, the sort of planet explorers dream about finding. The beautiful, forbidden world of Nede.
The shuttle seemed to be headed towards one of the planet's moons. Funny, Jonah thought, that I've been on that planet for so long and never saw any of its moons.
"Exactly. Thank you. Most Federation natives don't have a rudimentary knowledge of economics, but you clearly do. That'll make the rest of the story easier.
"If we're going to get the edge on those lumpy-forehead thugs, we're going to have to resort to some new methods. Namely, we're going to have to make their supply of certain items drop while ours increases."
"And how does this concern me?" Jonah had arrived at a conclusion. He hoped he was wrong.
Sunyak circled the moon, heading for its dark half. The crater-ridden surface made Jonah nostalgic for the lonely moon that orbited Earth.
"I'll put this simply. We need someone to steal loaded Romulan trading vessels from the spaceways."
"In other words, you want me to be a pirate."
"Pirate is such an ugly word," Sunyak steered the ship into a deep crater. "You're going to be working in the national interest of an employer. There's another word for that, isn't there?"
"Privateer," Versinthe chimed in.
"Yes that's it," Sunyak said as he landed the ship at the bottom of the crater. "Actually, I guess that's not much of a better word."
"I don't think I'm interested in this," Jonah said.
"Very well, then," Sunyak said. "The ship's door is right next to you. Just step outside. Take a suit if you want, it'll delay your death a few hours."
Jonah sighed. For the first time, he appreciated Versinthe's advice. Jonah could usually outthink his opponents, but this race was skilled at duplicity. At least he had someone making sure he wasn't literally being backstabbed.
The ship sank down in the shadows, further than Jonah had estimated the crater to reach. Nothing but darkness surrounded the ship in its descent.
Suddenly Jonah's human eye was blinded by light. His cyber-eye automatically adjusted so quickly he could see the ship descend through the floor of the crater, into what looked like a hidden loading bay beneath them.
"How did you do this, did you put a hologram over a force field?" Jonah said.
"Yeah, you'd be surprised how many moons have hidden bases like this," Sunyak said. "Right after I land this thing, I'll introduce you to your crew. They're waiting on your ship, captain."