Rule 62: The bigger the risk, the greater the profit
It could have been worse. Well, not much worse, but still worse. He could have lost almost all his financial resources to a clothed female. But Quark had lost this little bet. Brunt was a better Tongo player than he wanted to admit in the end. Of course, Quark claimed it was 'luck' that Jadzia had been driven into bankruptcy by Krell and Brunt didn't have to go into direct competition. But he knew as well as any other Ferengi that Tongo had nothing to do with luck. That Krell had eliminated Jadzia was the result of male business instincts, underpaid waiter or not. And due to this small triumph over Quark and his pathetic attempt to impress his Federation friends it didn't seem like that much of a catastrophe to Brunt that Krell had not only eliminated Jadzia, but everyone on the table.
Brunt thought about his remaining assets. Three bars, 16 strips and 44 slips were left. It wouldn't be enough for a shuttle. But it might be enough to bribe a transporter (freighter? Using the word "transporter" didn't make me think spaceship in Star Trek) captain to make no entry in the passenger list.
At this late hour, the hallways were not as crowded as they were during the daytime. Actually, the hallways in the guest quarter section were empty, except for two Bajoran security guards near the turbo lift. They were more intent on having a whispered conversation than really guarding anything; something about the upcoming Gratitude Festival on Bajor. They were probably not aware of the fact that Brunt could still understand every single word of their spiritual babble three corridors away from them. If one could simply write down all of his worries on some cheap scroll and then burn them, there would be no currency fluctuations, the liquidator thought. And no head hunters of the Syndicate.
Finally the Bajorans were out of hearing range and Brunt had almost reached his quarters. Carefully, he peeked around the last corner before moving on. No-one was there, so he made a step into the corridor only a second later and regretted not looking more closely. Two Flaxians stood near the door on the opposite side of the wall, their arms crossed, obviously waiting for someone. Brunt froze in his movements like a lizard that was suddenly exposed to great cold. His instinct told him to turn around and run back to the security guards. His body generally agreed, but refused to act on the order. Quite the opposite - his legs felt heavy like solid metal, his hand didn't want to reach under his jacket and pull the disruptor; just his heartbeat went into dangerous competition with that of a coolibri.
„Finally", one of the Flaxians remarked. „We were almost tired of waiting for you." Ironically, the only clear thought Brunt had was that his theory had been right. It really was less likely for a person to be killed on the promenade than here. „But then, we used the time to discuss ideas for how to get your statement regarding the latinum", the second Flaxian added and stepped a bit closer to Brunt. He finally got his body to take orders again and reached for his disruptor. The Flaxian's eyes followed his hand with amusement. „Now that's cute", he said. „Are we trying to pull a weapon?" He nodded over his shoulder to his companion. „My friend over there is very interested in weapons, you know?" The Flaxian who still leaned on the door smiled and nodded; Brunt's desperation grew more and more as he realized the disruptor was stuck in his pocket. „He's the record holder for rapid fire on Dalos II", the Flaxian continued. „Pulls, aims and hits any target in less than a second." „Listen, maybe we can reach a compromise of some sort..." Brunt stuttered. „Three bars of latinum and we forget about this unfortunate situation?"
For a moment, the Flaxians exchanged a glance silently, then both began to laugh. „How stupid, exactly, do you think we are?" the more talkative one asked. „You kept 100 bars that were meant for the Syndicate. They pay us 15 bars if we find out where you're hiding the latinum - and bring our boss your head." He reached for a short dagger on his belt, but before he could come any closer to Brunt with his weapon, he stopped in surprise.
„I'll take the three bars."
The woman who had entered the corridor didn't look like someone to mess with - especially not if one was a head shorter, couldn't get the disruptor out of his pocket and was threatened by two head hunters. Her hair was long, black and ruffled, much like the typical Nausicaan looked, but her forehead suggested Klingon ancestors - if one ignored the Cardassian ridges around the eyes. Her patched leather coat was decorated with military badges of all kinds; around her neck, she wore a necklace with an illustrious collection of what looked like trophies. Cardassian neck bones, emblems of Klingon houses, Nausicaan as well as Lethean teeth, Yridian cargo plates and a mesh of unidentifyable objects. What gave Brunt the final hint to not mess with her - if he really needed one - was the long jagged dagger in her hand.
The Flaxians were more irritated than impressed by her presence, though a bit hesitant to commit to any particular activity. Brunt on the other hand got quite clear instructions. The woman stepped closer to him, the sharp dagger dangerously close to his throat, and nodded at her open hand. „The bars, now, and those guys won't get their bounty." She nodded over her shoulder to the Flaxians. It took a moment for Brunt to get over his newly shock and confusion. „Three bars and you'll collect the bounty instead?" he mumbled. The Flaxians - and the woman with the dagger - laughed. „Three bars and you'll not get killed", she corrected him. Brunt didn't have to think much. He let go of his attempt to free the disruptor, reached into his other pocket, got the three bars of latinum he had left, and put them in the waiting hand. Sometimes, life was not that unfair, after all, he thought, but had to rethink this only a moment later.
The dagger moved away from his throat and the woman turned around to the Flaxians. „Six bars, payable within 26 hours. Anyone bidding six bars?" A rush of disbelief and panic ran through every pore of Brunt's body. This could not be. His one way out of this mess, the chance to get away like a real Ferengi - by paying someone, and now this? Now that damn female was doing exactly what he would have done in her place and making it an auction? The Flaxians, on the other hand, were not shocked at all. They were obviously amused. „Six bars", one of them nodded with a grin. A part of Brunt wished he had been shot, quick and painless, a minute ago. „Six bars are offered, do I hear nine?" The woman turned back to him. Payable within 26 hours, Brunt thought. The Syndicate had found him anyway, now it didn't matter if they would see any transactions of his bank accounts. He nodded silently; the female grinned, satisfied, and looked back to the head hunters. „Nine bars are offered, twelve?" The talkative Flaxian laughed. „You know, I really shouldn't waste my latinum on this joke, but I find it way too funny to see a Ferengi beaten with his own best weapons. Twelve."
Even if she'd ask for 100 bars next, Brunt was very willing to pay it. He wouldn't have made any profit from his little deal with the Syndicate, but he would have gotten away with his life and that was something not everyone could say after cheating the Orions.
„My pleasure to add to your entertainment", the female smirked, then turned back to Brunt. „Maybe it will be even more entertaining if we make this little auction a bit more... thrilling. 15 bars and a finger." She grinned; Brunt's heart almost stopped. What kept him conscious was the ninth rule of acquisition - opportunity plus instinct equals profit. His instinct told him that the Flaxians only got 15 bars for his head, but the next bid would likely be 18 bars. If there was a chance they'd drop out, it was now. A new finger would cost around 25 bars. 35 if Dr. Orpax did the surgery. In total, that was still a profit of 50 bars, and pain was - like everything except latinum - transient. And this female seemed to speak his language. There was still a chance she'd take a bribe to give him some anesthetization later. Brunt sent a silent prayer to the Blessed Enchequer, then he nodded.
The damn female smiled a satisfied smile when she turned back to the Flaxians. „18 bars an an arm." It seemed the Blessed Enchequer had mercy on Brunt. The head hunters didn't look very amused anymore. „I think we were entertained enough for now", the talkative one explained; the other reached under his jacket, probably to pull a weapon and demonstrate his record-winning rapid fire skills. The female was unimpressed. „Don't bother", she said calmly. „Your disruptor won't work." „Let that be my concern", the Flaxian hissed back, just to realize a moment later that she was right. He really couldn't fire his weapon; the trigger simply did nothing at all. He swore quietly in Flaxian and tried to find the problem, Brunt took a deep relieved breath. He would really survive this story. Not entirely, but mostly, in one piece.
„Do you like my disruptor dampening field?"
Ariev had entered the corridor and watched the Flaxian with amusement. The head hunter didn't look up, he was still busy trying to fix his weapon. „I'll sell it to you for five bars", Ariev added. „It's really handy in your line of work." Now the rapid fire champion looked up, angrily, but still said nothing. His partner didn't waste the time pulling and checking his own disruptor; he lifted his dagger. „Two versus two", he said slowly. „The irony of people like us being so eager for a fair fight..." Brunt's eyes scanned the man with the disruptor dampening field. Another crossbreed; the Cardassians had been quite busy with 'cultural exchange' with other species decades ago. Two professional head hunters on one side, two unpredictable risks on the other. Lose a finger or lose the head.
„Fair play? Only losers like fair play." A third voice, and when Brunt's eyes found the owner of it, he knew he'd only lose the finger. There was clearly a Cardassian involved in this genetic accident and it wasn't hard to guess which side the man was on. The Flaxians realized they were heading towards a quite unfair confrontation and forgot about plans involving the repair of their disruptor. Slowly and without turning their backs to Brunt and his newfound bodyguards, they moved away to the turbo lift. „This isn't over, Ferengi!" the one with the dagger hissed, then they disappeared around the corner.