JMJ

Chapter One

Opportunity and Risk

Fire rain.

Like many uncommon things, it was given value— if only sentimental in this case, but sentimentality was not without profit as any good Ferengi business man would be happy to explain but happier to show by example. It was used in advertising, jingles, art displays, poetry, and romance so that it was so common to speak of it that it lost most of its monetary value among native Ferengi. Though, one could get money by offering a good view of the real thing for a mobile honeymoon suite if one was careful with monitoring the weather moods enough to trust the odds. It was even common to name daughters after its gleam.

The sun had to be just poking out through a sunset on the horizon. The sun itself was not as common a sight as on other planets anyway, and the precipitation could neither be too hard or too heavy. No wind could be present, except maybe a light breeze. Then sun itself in a leisurely red-golden mood would filter its light through the droplets to cast through them a brilliant orange, so that it looked like sparks were falling.

It was the pyrocyte in which the entire planet of Ferenginar was saturated that was its cause. A necessary asset for life to thrive as it did on such a damp, dank and swampy planet; it was the reason why everything did not simply mold itself to death. Despite UT misconceptions typical of Ferengi descriptions of their homeworld as being rotting and sludgy, mold was rather an uncommon occurrence compared to other planets of similar atmospheres. "Rotting" in Ferengi terms was actually almost comparable to the disintegration of a desert planet, except into mud instead of dust. Pyrocyte flowed through the venation of every leaf, the gum of every stem, the slime in every bug, and through every vein of every Ferengi. It gave everything in certain lights, a metallic yellowish sheen altogether, including the yellow hue of Ferengi blood causing the orange of Ferengi skin to have that metallic brassy look.

It was a potent substance said also to give everything on Ferenginar its notorious resilience. It was scientifically proven to give Ferengi that strong immune system that they were known for, and it was theorized to have something to do with even their hearts able to maintain such a strong blood pressure and near squirrel-like heart-rate and preserve the body for a full long life-span, naturally longer than Humans. But the same thing that gave such vitality in some things also could induce the destruction of others.

In Humans, as well as many other races, it was a cause of a serious allergic reaction if ever caught in the bloodstream, especially in a concentrated dose. It was safe when cooked if one was interested in Ferengi cuisine. It was a living thing, and extreme heat or dryness could destroy its potency, but even then some people with weaker constitutions could get a stomach ache or other digestion unpleasantness. Too much live pyrocyte, however, could potentially kill someone not from the planet.

Ferengi marauders and tricky businessman alike had long used this knowledge as a way to get unwanted foreign opponents out of the way of their desired profit in a manner than no one would suspect. A poison that could be carried with a person without detection because it was carried within one's very body before the time was right to make the withdrawal, so to speak, and pay the price. Though usually it was not injected enough to kill an opponent, just get them out of the way long enough to get the job they wanted done without interference.

As these beautiful citrus jewels fell all around at present gleaming on every beam of fractured light like a magical form of komorebi through eaves instead of trees, it seemed an irony to see a Human there in the midst of it. Humans were known to have more of a susceptibility to pyrocyte than most races. He was basically surrounded in what would be for him poison rain. Certainly he was safe enough. Even if he was not inside the clear but structurally-sound causeway between the landing platform and the upper doors through which Meegs now walked, it probably would have done the Human little harm. It was weaker in water than other things anyway as long as the Human did not have an open wound.

From what Meegs understood the Human was not some mere doctor bargaining on Ferenginar for medicines or supplies outlawed by the Federation, however. The risk of being here was not for traditional profit that could be seen. He was a resident of sometime spanning and of some importance. He was the inventor of a cure for the Ferengi from the parasitical race called the Keeoopii, who had little more than a year past taken control of the capital. That was why Meegs had to stand there to be scanned for one.

A Ferengi doctor could have easily done the job unless the Human just liked scanning. Or Starfleet could have considered Meegs important enough to request permission from the Grand Nagus to scan him for themselves.

Meegs could not help but smile at that thought.

Maybe it was the grimness of the situation on hand, maybe it was being on this wretched planet again, maybe Meegs just felt like being resentful of having to be escorted by Hupyrian guards, but the sound of that Hew-mon's calmness just got under his skin. That placidity was reinforced by his ugly flat narrow face and tiny ears half-rimmed in spiky hair. Meegs had a strong sentiment of returning the favor by putting something under the Hew-mon's skin, but he shrugged it off for now.

For Meegs this was about gaining profit even if it was not for the doctor, and in a way that would help Ferenginar and Starfleet benefit as well.

Thus proudly, Meegs held out his fine suit coat of zigzagging, overlapping stripes. Straightening himself with a proud pout he strutted past the Human far taller than he was— oversized, is what Meegs would call it. Without once looking back at him, though listening to the slightest sigh from the Human that would not have been heard by anyone other than a Ferengi, the young and fiery Meegs allowed himself to be led to the lift to the Chamber of Opportunities to see the Grand Nagus for himself. He refused to speak with anyone else, especially without a bribe, which nobody had offered him, and he had given everyone ample opportunity to do so.

He was the one with the important information. No one could get information out of a Ferengi if a Ferengi did not feel the incentive to give it, and on Ferenginar physical torture was never the first option on anyone's mind. They were not Keeoopii slavers after all!

His resolve was even firmer with Starfleet traipsing about the Tower of Commerce, and he knew Humans, despite their peaceful talk were not always against such measures themselves, especially against uncompromising people like the Ferengi. His father might have made himself a businessman enough to have become Grand Nagus after Zek had Starfleet not incarcerated him at the top of his game and branded his voice and the sound of his name the sound a loser in the ears of the Tower from then on.

Well! Things would change between himself and the new Nagus, he would soon see to that! Meegs may not have hope of getting in the way of Rom's heir, but his brother was not getting any younger and there was always room to squeeze into the position of First Clerk. Besides, things might change. One never knew in the unstable climate of Ferenginar, and he was not thinking about the weather. If there was one thing he had learned well from his cousin once removed, it was the value of waiting in the shadows until the right moment.

It was the true Ferengi way. No politics, war, or religious upheaval or social justice would ever change that. The true hidden profiteers were the Ferengi who knew the wisdom of Rule Number 90 "Hear all, trust nothing."

Or is it Rule Number 109? Maybe it's 19? Meegs suddenly thought. He shook his head.

The numbers did not matter anyway!

Right now, he had to regain that slouch and rub those paws together to look as humble as possible in the presence of the Grand Nagus. Before the doors opened, he lowered his head in all humility, closed his eyes with wrists clasped together, and lowered his brow ridge into a pitiful display of the broken creature he was.

And there was the Nagus.

Some things were quite familiar from the vaguest recollections of his childhood. It may have been a different Nagus, but the throne room was still the throne room even with slightly difference in décor. Most Nagi changed their décor more than this when they took over.

There Grand Nagus Rom sat before his desk as the throne lowered from its pedestal with the throw of a gliding switch. It carried upon it the slightest sound of a bell, both soothing but at the same time regal and somewhat intimidating. On one side of him stood his tall and strong Hupyrian bodyguard Topl'rintia. On the other side stood the First Clerk Quark, the well-known sympathizer of the Hidden Profiters.

With hands behind his back, it was easier to see the jewel brighter blue than a sapphire and shaped a little like a geometric Gree-lily pad gently but snuggly. It gleamed on his chest like his soul bursting forth in crystalline lining as if even that was for sale for the right price. Apparently it had been at some point with the Hidden Profiters.

Meegs could not help but wonder what that price had been. The familiar Ferengi ob-lappet, or the humbling headdress of a family-subordinate, draped behind Quark's head. Despite being the older brother, he had apparently given into his younger brother's position as being the head of the family as the most important person on Ferenginar. However, rather than making him look humbler it made him look more regal still, and to Meegs, it made him look self-important.

Meegs had not given up his own for so long in the hope of his father's freedom, it was almost second nature, but he felt somewhat self-conscious about the lappet behind his own head as though he felt there was something suddenly immoral about it.

The Nagus himself was dressed in at least five different patterns from his great coat with a solid long back instead of coattails to the base-shirt with its glittering cuffs. Three gold-pressed latinum brooches on his chest were shaped into elaborate stars. Though, despite trying to appear noble, he reminded Meegs somewhat of a child wearing his father's clothes and feeling too small in them.

"Meegs son of Belongo, pay your respects to the Grand Nagus," said the First Clerk with not so much pomp as full grave seriousness, which irritated Meegs more than simple pomp would have.

But Meegs only lowered his head further and reached into his coat for a latinum slip to put into the pay slot at just beyond the doorway. He muttered with full fervor, "With all gratitude and pleasure, O Nagus with the hope of profiting us all!"

It was an accepted formulated traditional response. Though not usually a necessary one, it was still accepted now, as Rom gave a slight nod.

As Meegs stepped forward, Rom's brow knit slightly as though somewhat uncertain about this meeting, but his pursed lips remained firm as he held out his scepter over the table.

Meegs kissed it and then seated himself promptly smoothing his coattails as he did, but now feeling somewhat nervous. Well, he had asked to speak to no one but the Nagus and to the Nagus he now was faced. He had heard so much about the weak nature of Rom, and what he saw for himself corroborated all. Why was it that he did not feel as confident as he should be in the presence of such an obvious fool? He scolded himself for losing any nerve, though nothing showed on his face but continued reverence as he lifted his head back up to the Nagus.

It was the First Clerk that seemed to be studying him with more intensity, but then that also was not so unusual.

"So you wish to make a deal with the Grand Nagus, Meegs son of Belongo?" the Grand Nagus demanded; his voice was not nearly as firm as Zek's had been in his memory.

"Yes, O Nagus. I know that my information is of a delicate nature and value," said Meegs groveling in tone and posture. "All I wish is a stable and just recompense for the danger that revealing such information could bring to me and my family."

"That does seem… fair," said the Grand Nagus musingly.

Still standing upright and opposite the bodyguard, the First Clerk tried not to roll his eyes, but he certainly gave no stifle to his sigh. Although he said nothing, the Grand Nagus suddenly cleared his throat to a more commanding voice.

"So! You know the location of Krax."

"I do," said Meegs with a temperate grin, and he lifted a hand gently for emphasis. "Not only that, but I know what to say to him that will bring him to you without any trouble. No one wants any trouble, after all."

"Does he still resent the loss of his position?" the Grand Nagus sniffed.

Meegs shrugged. "It's only natural, I'd think. My cousin is a proud man, but although he has not acquired the position that he was originally inherited, he has made quite a name for himself beyond the wormhole while still keeping his business firmly in the Clarius System which he operates from Volchak Prime. He has acquired much to be proud of, though he still keeps a low profile as his devotion is that of the 'Conventional Acquisitioner.' It is not from shame as some believe unless one counts it as what he feels to be shame for his people rather than himself."

"But he isn't on Volchak Prime now, is he?" asked Rom. "We searched for him there. Is he in the wormhole then?"

"No, he is on Volchak Prime most of the time, in the hall. I work for him… indirectly. I'm placing a considerable risk on my position coming here to humble myself before my Grand Nagus."

He bowed his head again for extra measure.

Rom hesitated.

"For which you will be well compensated for," the First Clerk butted in despite himself. "Only if you have information worth it."

Rom huffed and nodded. "Well, compensated for. My First Clerk has already set up the first payment according to Ferengi tradition."

Meegs's smile broadened as saw for himself that the first payment was installed to his PADD. Not as much as he had hoped, but still enough to satiate for now. Besides he had to look appreciative. He guessed the First Clerk, at least, was not fooled.

"If we like what you say, Meegs," the First Clerk promised, "you'll get just as much the second round, and possibly more if the Grand Nagus is pleased with your details."

Grinning from ear to ear, Meegs bowed his face to the table with hands flat upon it on either side of his head. "Thank you, O generous Nagus."

"Don't thank me until after you've given your information in full," warned the Nagus, but it was more of a fluster than anything.

"Yes, yes, of course!" begged Meegs pretending to have been completely threatened; he clasped his hands together fidgeting appropriately. "So. My Cousin Krax is having just a little bit of trouble maintaining his mining industry which he acquired from Nava some years back, though this trouble is completely under wraps. Not to be spoken of. Even I'm not supposed to know about it, but you know how hard it is to keep secrets from family."

He winked.

The Nagus and First Clerk exchanged quick glances.

"He did half raise me after my father was incarcerated," said Meegs, "and even now, my own family owes our success to him. Only too much!"

"He's not paying what you feel owed," suggested the First Clerk.

Meegs grinned innocently. "You can't stop a female from being attracted to a rich and prominent man once she sets her mind to it… especially these days. I mean, all the power to them, of course. I voted for female restitution… but it does have the unfortunate consequence of marriages not remaining intact."

The First Clerk instantly understood Meegs's meaning before he finished the first sentence. Nagus Rom, although he understood only seconds after registering the full last phrase, frowned and said, "But he must be so old compared to her now! Last time I saw Krax—"

"We don't want to talk about last time we saw Krax," sneered the First Clerk.

"Oh!" agreed Rom.

"The fleetingness of youth's integrity has nothing on the luster latinum," said Meegs as if nothing had transpired between the two. "But you are absolutely right, O Nagus. He has become only uglier with age. It's the consequence of his cunning as my ex-wife… used to… put it…"

His smile lingered, though it was fading slightly. Not truly because of the past events did it wane, but because of the fact that neither the Nagus nor the First Clerk seemed to find any amusement in what he was saying, and in fact looked quite the opposite of amused.

Actually, the First Clerk looked like his was so impatiently bored with the whole procedure that he might at any moment use his influential power to excuse Meegs from the chamber for wasting the Grand Nagus' time. The Grand Nagus himself was staring at Meegs with mouth slightly ajar like staring at a half eaten tube grub with something unsavory growing inside it.

Meegs cleared his throat unable to hide his nervousness any longer.

"Anyway!" he said quickly. "I believe that if you discretely offered assistance to his problem… Well, as you are the Grand Nagus, he would be happy to meet with you upon the subject. I have the details of his business troubles with me, actually. But I would need a guarantee that I would remain anonymous."

"'Satisfaction," said the First Clerk unexpectedly, "is not guaranteed'. If your cousin was so influential in your life with sympathies of the Conventional Acquisitioner, then I'm surprised you've forgotten Rule Number 19."

Oh, yes, that was Rule Number 19.

The First Clerk shrugged with a rather casual expression. "It was a favorite back in the day. A favorite of your Great Uncle Zek. Still is, as far as I know in his thriving spa, 'Soak for hours. Wrinkle free!'" He chuckled.

After blinking stupidly for a moment, Meegs gave a sharp nod.

"Thank you," he breathed. "For reminding me, Mr. Quark."

The First Clerk closed his eyes sagely with a solemn nod and motioned Meegs's attention back to the Nagus. Instantly, Meegs handed his PADD to the bodyguard to check for safety first before the Grand Nagus could hold it in his fingers. After a gruff nod from Topl'rintia, Rom was free to look at it himself. Although looks could be deceiving, this bodyguard sure looked tougher than the Hupyrians that worked for Zek. His arm was wider than Meegs' face, and he was very young.

But as Rom examined the contents, he ended up handing it to the itchy fingers of his brother who scanned it with complete Ferengi scrutiny. He shook his head, and clicked the roof of his mouth like a doctor looking at the mangled mess of patient on an anatomy view screen.

"That bad, Brother?" Rom pressed like the patient's friend in the waiting room.

"That bad?" demanded Quark, and he began to pace a little as he mused over the PADD. "According to Meegs, the infrastructure of the whole business is being held up by a thread. Cleverly-so, albeit, but I think the cleverer one was Nava for getting out of it in the first place. I would have expected better foresight from Krax as Zek's son, but apparently Arcybyte isn't what they foretold, after all."

Even still he glanced at Meegs with a knowing smile of suspicion.

"Would my bill of divorce suffice as proof, signed by my wife?" Meegs demanded, "This isn't even revenge. This is proving to Tinjoreek that I am a man of my word."

"A little awkward, isn't it?" teased Quark.

"Admittedly," said Meegs. "If I outsmart my cousin, she will return to me. That was the deal. Now you see the delicate position I'm in."

Again Quark shook his head; this time very sadly— sad that he had to take part in this meeting, Meegs had no doubt.

"We'll look into what you say, and if we find it to our gain we will forward the money to your account, Meegs," said Rom. "Thank you for doing business with us."

"Not… right now?"

"With the next two or three days it will be there if everything checks out," Rom promised.

"If your information turned out well, then you'll get it," Quark added.

"I beg this not to be seen as… uh, audacity on my part, but if everything checks out and all ends with success, could I hope for a position in the Tower?"

Quark opened his mouth, but this time it was Rom who spoke candidly, "You can apply with the secretary if you wish."

"Thank you, Grand Nagus," said Meegs with a humble bow, and he withdrew how he had arrived as meekly as possible, but somewhat disappointed. It was true what they said: bribery of the Tower of Commerce was dead.

The escort did not follow, and he was allowed to leave the Chamber of Opportunity in peace. Except for the Tower's traditional gift-store vendor peddling last season's souvenirs as he passed through the great hall, Meegs spoke with no one, but Meegs had no interest in trinkets as he shoved out of the old man's way and out the doors to his ship.

However as looked out at the rain once more which was changing from fire rain to just a typical mock panning, he was struck with a sudden chill. He plopped down in the seat of his pod and was almost immobilized by a fear that he did not truly know why he was here. For a few seconds he even wondered who he was. Was he not someone else who used to live as a fisherman's son who would only offer him the same position in life, and was not he too lazy to try for something more until opportunity came so suddenly upon his doorstep that he could not refuse it?

He blinked.

Then he shook his head, his fears swallowed up with rage. He deserved this. He deserved everything both the good and the bad, and he would make the name "Meegs" known to everyone in time.

#

Meanwhile back in the Chamber of Opportunities, Rom looked up at Quark with a raised brow.

"Do you believe him?"

"About his wife?" Quark shrugged. "Nah. That was just a ploy to make him appear harmless."

"So you think he's up to no good?"

Quark leaned over the table with a hand pressed down against it. "I think he's full of something I don't care to repeat in the Chamber of Opportunity."

"Oh."

"But as far as about Krax… you're the Nagus, but my strong advice as First Clerk is that we play along for now. After all, I see no way that it wouldn't be better for him to come here rather than let someone go to him."

"Do you think Krax is infected?" asked Rom; just thinking about it sent shivers up his spine.

"Well, Bashir's scan had Meegs check out. He was free from parasite infection."

"But that doesn't mean Krax is."

"All the better reason not to fall into a trap on Volchak Prime," said Quark. "If he really is a conspirer with the Keeoopii, then it doesn't matter either way if he's infected. And it's been over a year. All this time, he's been hiding there in plain sight? Suspicious, of course. That goes without saying."

Mistily, Rom nodded.

It was funny how when he was first cured of the parasite he felt far braver, but it seemed like the more time elapsed between where he was now and when he and his family were infected the more frightful the prospect became.

His teeth held together in an absent, loose cringe, Rom allowed his mind to wander into some dark, but richly furbished chamber on the near atmosphere-less Volchak Prime. Within every pedestal and behind every Hupyrian-styled drape, a dozen Keeoopii medallions were waiting, and every person standing in the atmospherically domed room was a mask for the creature within their brains…

"But we got other work to do now," Quark suddenly interrupted.

Rom blinked stupidly back to the present in the bright Chamber of Opportunities, shining in gold plating. Although, hardly stark, there was no place for anything or anyone to hide except maybe behind the throne. He made a quick glimpse behind it. He knew nothing was out to get him but a raised brow from Quark.

"Are you… missing something, Grand Nagus?"

"R—right!" said Rom reseating himself promptly, and he quickly shook his head. "No. Nothing. Just, uh… go on."

"Okay. Well, then," shrugged Quark. "This is a big evening, so put your best smile on, and your etymologies, if our sources are correct about Mr. Aploos."

Quark himself smiled rather charmingly as he spoke, but it was not so much the charm that made it work. It was that sincerity that still made Rom feel uncomfortable for some reason. Quark was so… confident these days he did not need to spew his sarcasm, and that confidence was somehow contrastingly… mixed with humility?

Even if he did out-speak Rom during this meeting.

Rom felt it best to add, "And you'll let me do the talking this time."

Quark bowed without irony, though just a touch of tease. "The evening's yours, Nagus." And with that he withdrew.

Slumping in his seat, Rom sighed.