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MODEL CITIZEN
Quark emerged from the holosuite. He was still dressed in 20th century Earth garb; brown leather jacket with a matching pilot's cap that strained to cover his enormous ears. The uniform, while appropriate for the program, attracted quizzical stares from customers lingering at the nearby bar. It was crowded that day, and Quark hoped his regalia would entice a few patrons to try out the holosuites. The Ferengi had done some brisk business that week in all of his various enterprises- food and drink, holosuite rentals, and on-site gambling. He had even sold a small spacecraft, a market he only dabbled in. Yes, things were going well indeed.
"I can't believe you're doing it again!
It was his nephew Nog, standing in righteous indignation with hands on hips.
"What do you mean?" Quark asked innocently.
"You're running Dr. Bashir's program again without his consent," he cried, straightening his Starfleet uniform. "That's an illegal invasion of his privacy.
"It isn't like I'm singling him out," Quark replied. "I look at all my customers' programs.
An exasperated Nog sighed and followed his uncle behind the bar.
"Think of it as market research. I'm just learning what my customers like so I can sell what they want to buy.
Nog was about to launch a counter-argument when a Bajoran deputy walked over to them. Nog couldn't remember his name but knew that he worked as a customs official on the station. He said nothing as he mysteriously placed a small box on the counter.
"Thank you," Quark said, revealing his pointy teeth as he grinned. "The latinum has already been deposited in your account.
The customs officer nodded, his traditional Bajoran earring jangling on his right ear as he did so. Apparently satisfied, he departed.
"Smuggling again?" Nog asked forcefully. "Bribing customs agents?
"Keep your voice down," Quark whispered. "I made contact with a merchant who could supply me with Romulan ale at a cut rate. How could I refuse?
"You know its illegal to transport Romulan ale through the Neutral Zone!
"Yes, that's why I'm smuggling it," Quark retorted as he opened the package. Both Ferengi were dumbfounded as they saw its contents.
"That's not Romulan ale," Quark said matter-of-factly.
"Those are Simtrix explosives!" Nog said, concern evident in his voice.
"That idiot Bajoran mixed up the packages. Whoever wanted these explosives has my ale!
"We've got to alert security. Someone is trying to destroy the station!" Nog said as he ran to a communications panel.
"No!" shouted Quark, grabbing Nog by the shoulders and spinning him around.
"Then the whole station will know I'm smuggling. Let it go. We've got the explosives.
The station isn't in any danger.
"That's not true, Uncle. Simtrix usually comes in units of six. We only have three. If the perpetrator has even three units he can still cause a lot of damage.
"Then we'll find him ourselves.
"But Uncle . . .
"No buts," Quark interrupted. "Put that Starfleet training to good use for once and find out who these bombs belong to.
Nog grumbled as he left. Maybe his uncle was right. Maybe the three simtrix units they'd already discovered were the only ones on the station. But if Uncle Quark was wrong, Deep Space Nine might already be running out of time, and Nog's gut told him three more bombs were out there. Starfleet's first Ferengi quickened his pace.
He searched the station for almost an hour before he gave up looking for his uncle's smuggling accomplice. He had checked the customs station near the airlock, the security office, and the deputy's quarters. Nog had even walked the crowded Promenade in vain. He finally gave up, resigning himself to interrogating the Bajoran later. In the meantime he went to his own quarters. He had the computer call up profiles for all recent arrivals to Deep Space Nine. Since the station had been designated a point of departure for the relief effort to Cardassia the number of people boarding the station daily was staggering. Nog was surprised that the Bajoran government was willing to help its former enemy, but after the Dominion War the whole quadrant had come closer together. Despite the sheer volume of records to sort through, he hoped he would get lucky and discover someone
with a suspicious background. He stared into the terminal for hours and was only distracted from his task when his communicator chimed.
"Nog here.
"Nog? It was Colonel Kira's voice. "You're late for your shift.
"Colonel, I'm sorry," he stammered. "I'll be right there.
He cleared the screen on his monitor and rapidly left his quarters, already regretting his decision to cover for his uncle.
Quark stared uncomfortably at the new package on his desk. One of his waiters had told him a parcel had arrived and Quark had gone immediately to the back room to see it. The exterior was identical to the one that had preceded it- a simple nondescript container. Steeling up his courage, Quark broke the seal. He wished he hadn't. Inside, a severed right ear, complete with Bajoran earring, was resting on top of a bloodied PADD. Not wanting to touch the ear, he picked up the package and tilted it until the ear slid off the PADD leaving a morbid trail of blood. It was enough to reveal a message. Meet me in cargo bay three at 2300 hours or you will meet the same fate. Quark protectively stroked his lobes as he contemplated what to do. Where was Nog? He decided to spend a little time in the holosuite to clear his head. Quark walked into the main room of the
bar, his eyes cautiously shifting from side to side. He pulled over one of his Ferengi waiters.
"Cancel the holosuite appointments for the rest of the day. I'll be in there until my nephew drops by. Don't tell anyone where I am except for Nog. Understand?
The waiter had a confused look on his face but nodded just the same. Quark sped off to the holosuite.
"Uncle?" Nog called out into the darkness. After finishing his shift he went looking for his uncle. A member of the bar staff directed him to the holosuite. Nog was now inside but had trouble seeing more than a few feet in front of him. He didn't recognize the program. Its only light came from a few poorly placed candles.
"Nog, where have you been?" Quark asked as he emerged from the shadows.
"Working for Starfleet. I have my own responsibilities beyond being your personal private investigator. What is all this anyway?
"One of Colonel Kira's private meditation programs. Very boring, actually, but I thought it would be a good place to hide.
"From what?" Nog inquired. "The explosives will get the whole station if we don't find them.
"I have a more immediate concern," Quark answered.
"So do I. My entire investigation has gone nowhere. I didn't even question your smuggling contact because I couldn't find him.
"I don't think you're going to." said Quark as he pulled out the latest package. Nog recoiled in horror as its contents were revealed.
"That's it!" Nog shouted. "We're reporting this whole thing right now. I don't care if you get in trouble. Lives are at stake.
"Then you'll have to admit you not only covered for me but also concealed an imminent threat to the station," Quark said, taking on a somewhat menacing appearance in the flickering candlelight. "You'll be court-martialed. Nobody wants that. Besides, I have good news. I know who wants to destroy the station.
"You do?" Nog asked, surprised.
"While I was in here looking at holoprograms, I found a really interesting one. Computer, run program titled Deleted Number 207.
"Deleted?" Nog asked as the dark scene around them began to alter. In moments, it was replaced by a replica of the station. They were standing on a simulation of the Promenade as holographic security personnel, both Bajoran and Starfleet, made their rounds.
"Some clients delete their programs after they're finished," Quark explained, "but I like to reconstruct them and see what people were using. It's a little more work, but worth it. The deleted ones are usually the most risquĊ½. Quark winked at his nephew.
"What are we looking at?
"A training simulation," replied Quark. "He programmed in station security protocols so he could practice planting the explosives without being detected.
"Who is he?" asked Nog.
"Ornoth Tivara if we can believe his credentials, said Quark. Nog checked the name against the personnel manifest in his PADD as soon as Quark uttered it.
"He's here on the station. We can have security pick him up.
"No, not until I've met with him," said Quark.
"You can't be serious," cried Nog.
"I need to give him the explosives. I don't want anything traced back to me. You just be ready outside cargo bay three with a security team. I'll signal when I need you.
The cargo bay staff had finished for the day but the door was ajar. Despite his growing fear, Quark couldn't help but admire the bomber's technique for picking the electronic lock as he entered the room. His eyes searched the various containers and barrels in the room but saw no sign of life. Then he heard something behind him. He spun around to see a humanoid figure closing the cargo bay door.
"I believe you have something of mine," said the figure, moving closer. He was Bajoran, with an unkempt beard, simple clothes, and a phaser in his left hand.
"Here," said Quark, tossing the package to him and hoping he would not get shot in the process. Quark hit the combadge hidden under his jacket as the Bajoran awkwardly caught the package with his right hand.
Suddenly the cargo bay door burst open. The Bajoran turned toward the door but was knocked down by a phaser bolt. Kira, Nog, and a security team closed in on the stunned figure. He writhed on the ground for a moment before succumbing to unconsciousness. Nog searched the body and produced a small cylindrical object.
"Here's the detonator. We can deactivate all the explosives with this.
"Good work," Kira said, circling the body. "This is Ornoth Tivara. He's been conducting protest marches on Bajor. He says he's against our policy of assisting the Cardassians with reconstruction. I guess he thought more severe measures were needed.
"That would explain why he wanted to hit Deep Space Nine," said Quark. "All the Bajoran aid ships going to Cardassia Prime take on their cargo here.
"What are you even doing here?" Kira asked, turning to Quark. "Nog comes to me, frantically has me assemble a team to take down a Bajoran terrorist that you somehow ferreted out. It doesn't make any sense.
"Colonel, I can't take all the credit," Quark said magnanimously. "True, I was approached by this Ornoth earlier today. He wanted to buy a small spacecraft at any price. It struck me as suspicious so I mentioned it to my nephew. Surely you know about all the extra hours he's put in, hours he has not been compensated for, I might add, screening newcomers to the station. He was able to investigate my customer and cross-
reference his image with the Federation database. When Nog knew we were dealing with a dangerous terrorist he contacted you.
"You still haven't answered my question," Kira said. "What are you doing here?
"Isn't it obvious," Quark answered, smiling. He paused for a moment. "He was under the mistaken impression I could get him some weapons at a cut rate. You know of course that I don't deal in illegal arms but I saw an opportunity to capture him so I agreed to the meeting.
"Really," Kira said skeptically. "Since when have you been so eager to help?
"I am a model citizen of our community," Quark said, feigning offense. "I was the only one Ornoth had contact with, the only one who could draw him out into the open. And I was only too happy to assist.
"Okay, well I'm sure Kira can take it from here," Nog said, grabbing Quark's arm.
"Let's get out of her way, Uncle.
As Nog dragged his uncle in the direction of the exit, Quark turned back to Kira.
"Not even a thank you, Colonel? he asked.
"Thank you," she said perfunctorily as she returned her attention to the would-be bomber.
"Ornoth will never corroborate your story," Nog said anxiously as they entered the corridor.
"Who cares?" retorted Quark. "Who's going to believe him anyway? Let's hit the
holosuite. Spend a little family time together.
"No, I don't want any part of your illicit activities.
"If it wasn't for me and my illicit activities we'd all be dead," Quark replied. "So wipe that frown off your face and get ready to experience 20th century Earth. Bashir's program will be even better with you as my wingman.