Hogan vs. Quark
by 80sarcades
To his credit, the Ferengi quickly regained his business senses before he turning a sharp eye on the American officer.
"You're trying to trick us!" he indignantly accused. General Hogan merely shrugged.
"What you see is what you get," the human shot back. "Want another demonstration?" Without waiting for an answer he walked to the door and called for the guard.
"Find me a woman," he bluntly ordered. The corporal blinked at the unusual command.
"Um...yes sir," he hesitantly replied. "Did you want another nurse?"
"Doesn't matter who it is," Hogan supplied. "Anyone but Lieutenant Garland."
If the guard was confused he didn't show it. "Yes, sir," he crisply acknowledged before he quickly closed the door. General Hogan then looked at the three Ferengi me and restrained a grimace.
"Hopefully she's a blonde..." he muttered softly to himself.
As before, Hogan asked the civilian before him to repeat the question. Like her military counterpart she reacted in exactly the same way.
What the General didn't expect was the possessive hand that gripped the instrument of his gender before stroking it to her own personal tune. Somehow, Hogan managed to tear himself from the liplock and whisper into the woman's ear before she sent the item in question from a B flat into a thundering crescendo.
"You called for me, General?" the woman asked the flustered General a moment later, seemingly unaware of her earlier lustful state.
"Uh, yes," Hogan stammered. "Could you bring us some water? I'll take a coffee. Black. You might see if there are any donuts, too."
"Yes, sir," she answered, although the look in her eyes said it all: why didn't you just tell the guard to have me bring it instead of wasting my time?
Hogan sighed, inwardly disgusted with himself.
I'm definitely going to hell, aren't I? He then turned back to his guests.
"Satisfied?" he asked. The Ferengi's eyes still seemed doubtful...but only just.
"So," he began, measuring his words carefully. "An interesting ability." He nodded thoughtfully. "How do I know it's not just limited to those females?"
"You don't," the general officer replied, his firm voice filling the air between them. "You just have to take my word for it."
"The word of a human," the alien being scoffed, seemingly unimpressed despite the demonstration of power. "In payment for technology, I should remind you, that would make you superior to those Russians of yours." At that moment he held up his hand. "My apologies," he said formally, "but I'm sure you can see that we would require something more...substantial...before entering into a contract."
Hogan chuckled darkly. "What's more substantial than having the woman of your dreams?" he challenged silkily, his smile unpleasantly tight. "That's the deal: your technology in exchange for what I can do." The American then unleashed a fiendish grin that Quark knew only too well.
The smile of a true Ferengi.
On a human.
Despite it all, he couldn't help but be...excited. The thrill of taking on a truly worthy opponent was an almost sensual feeling in and of itself.
As is the victory.
"I should add," the human continued slowly, his voice ennubucating each word loud and clear, "that what I know can be taught. That is," he said, looking pointedly at his negotiating counterpart, "if you're up to the challenge of learning new things."
The stare between the two men was broken by a sharp knock on the door. Nog and Rom eyed the donuts warily before the teenager hesitantly tried one of the confections. To his surprise they proved tastier they they looked. For his part, Quark ignored the pastries and drinks while Hogan sipped at his coffee.
"Sure you don't want some?" He offered, holding up the mug. The chief negotiator merely shook his head.
"Could you give us a minute to talk?" his suddenly polite voice asked. The General took another leisurely draw of the hot liquid before he graciously acquiesced to the request. As he turned, his left hand made a gesture towards the mirror. Quark had just enough time to see a small stream of people filing out of the observation chamber before the door closed.
If one could believe it - and knowing humans and their word he could - they were truly alone.
Honesty, he marveled. And your downfall, Hogan.
One of the keys to the vault of eternal destitution. He shuddered momentarily at the thought of a gold-free Ferengi hell and turned his mind to more pleasant matters.
"Can you believe it?" the older being murmured admiringly. "That man is sitting on a treasure..."
"Tell me about it!" Rom exclaimed. "At least he has no problem getting dates!"
"No, you idiot!" Quark snarled. "I'm talking about the power he has over females! Think of the possibilities!"
"He can have oo-mox any time he wants?"
His brother hung his head in his hands. "I'm surrounded by morons..." he muttered.
"You're thinking about using it to your advantage," Nog exclaimed.
"Finally!" Quark breathed, his tone suddenly pleased. "At least someone has lobes in this family." He threw a pointed glare toward his younger brother who wilted underneath his gaze.
"Like anything else, knowledge is latinum," the teenager continued. A grin cut across the older man's face.
"Rule of Acquisition 74," he said approvingly. "At least Starfleet hasn't taken all of the Frenengi out of you." His voice then changed tack as another memory came to the surface. "Nog. Didn't you say the humans had world wars?"
"Yes!" the younger man exclaimed, clearly pleased to be useful. "Three of them. If I remember correctly, they just went through their second war." He frowned in thought. "Or was it their first?"
"Three of them," Quark muttered disbelievingly, horror in his eyes. "No wonder they're crazy. It's a wonder they even survived to make their Federation much less into space." He snapped his fingers as an excited grin crossed his face. "That must be it!" he burst out. "It's the only thing that makes sense!"
"Oh, I don't know if I'm going to like this..." Rom groaned.
"Just shut up and listen!" the senior Ferengi snapped. "Have you ever wondered why the humans allowed their females to wear clothes?"
"Because they look so alluring with them on?"
"No!" Quark said, exasperated with his lobeless sibling. "Because they lost control of them! Don't you see?" He stood up and focused in on his revelation. "The males allowed their women to wear clothes and earn profit because they had a card up their sleeve! If the women got out of control..."
"...the men could turn them into their love slaves," Nog finished, finally cluing in to his Uncle's thoughts. "And they'd never know a thing!" The young man smirked and rubbed his hands in glee. "The possibilities for blackmail are endless!"
Quark began to pace around the room. "At some point the information was lost," he declared as the idea took firm root in his mind. "Maybe during one of their world wars. Whatever the case, they lost the ability to control their women." A dreamy look entered his eyes as a vision of a golden future - his future, specifically - revealed itself in his lecherous mind. "And if it works on human women, who knows whom it may work on."
"You'd have a whole new business," Rom followed, a smile of understanding dawning on his happy face. "But what about the bar?"
"The bar," Quark scoffed, waving his hand. "Who cares about the bar? You can have it." He brushed away his brother's profuse thanks as he looked into the mists of time once more. "I can see it now," he exclaimed excitedly. "Deep Space Nine: The Pleasure Nexus of the Alpha Quadrant."
"Quarks," breathed Nog, carried away on a mental river of gold. "The galaxy's supplier of quality females."
"Pimps of the Universe," Rom blurted.
Quark and Nog, their bubbles broken, turned to stare at their blood relative. Rom, surprisingly, was unfazed at the pointed glares.
"Well," he wheedled. "It's true..." The older Ferengi sighed in exasperation.
"Remind me to cut your share of the profits," Quark growled. "Now, where's Hogan?"
To the bar owner's exasperation General Hogan called for a break until late afternoon before resuming the talks. Still, he had to admire the human for the tactic.
Patience, after all, was one of the keys of profit. He frowned at the human-style lunch that was laid before them.
The things you do to earn latinum...
Surprising him still further, the American also announced that the observation room would be cleared before the negotiations continued. This provoked a furiously quiet debate amongst the humans but in the end the senior officer had the last word. The colored aide, acting as a silent witness, would sit in one corner. This didn't bother the alien in the least.
Human vs. Ferengi, he grinned inwardly, savoring the challenge.
May the better Ferengi win.
"I'm willing to seriously consider your offer," Quark announced in a pleasant voice. "However, I would like another demonstration of your...ability." He cocked his head and let his seemingly friendly eyes settle into those of his opponent. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble..."
Hogan shrugged. "All right," he conceded before he stood up and walked to the door. The enlisted guard from earlier snapped to attention. Oddly, there was something off about his demeanor that the General couldn't place.
"Can you find another woman for me?" he politely asked. "She..." His voice trailed off when he saw the enlisted man's gaze suddenly drop to the floor. He stepped into the hallway and closed the door. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.
"Well...sir...," the man stammered, "It's like this. The nurses are all holed up in the infirmary. They've barricaded the door."
Hogan blinked. "Say that again?" his puzzled voice asked.
"It's true, sir," the man went on, reluctantly spilling the beans to the General's narrowed eyes. "I heard it while we were at break. Some of the officers watching through the mirror-" he motioned to the room,"-kinda let slip how Lieutenant Garland got after you. Made it seem like, well, you were a God or something." Despite his nervousness, there was unabashed admiration in the corporal's voice. "Those nurses won't come out until you're off the base," he explained. "General Hammond said he'd court-martial them, sir, but they told him to go to hell." The enlisted guard blushed. "Sorry, sir."
"So try someone else. Civilians. Anyone," General Hogan ordered, switching gears. The guard shook his head.
"Afraid not, General," the man drawled. "That civilian woman that was here earlier got together with the lieutenant and compared notes. From what I heard they're all going to file a lawsuit against you. Something called sexual harassment or some such." The young man clearly found the whole idea clearly ludicrous.
Hogan sighed. "Tell General Hammond to report to the conference room," he directed. The corporal, grateful that he wasn't the one in trouble, hurried off even as the senior general inwardly cursed his peer for keeping him in the dark.
This is not good, he thought forebodingly.
And it was about to get a whole lot worse.
To Hogan's dismay, the news of his 'gift' had spread far and wide. The male population treated him with a mixture of outright awe and envy for his divine abilities. The women, on the other hand…
Where the hell did they all go?
With several exceptions – namely, the nurses – all of the women on the airfield had vanished into thin air. It was as if Roswell was the ground zero of a female-free Bermuda Triangle. The only woman to be found anywhere within a three mile radius of the base was a soon-to-be-retired civilian payroll clerk who enthusiastically volunteered to serve her country. Reluctantly – and it was only because he doubted Quark would buy it – he turned the generous offer down and was genuinely ashamed at seeing the crestfallen disappointment on her worn face.
Yep, he inwardly grimaced at the shame that filled his soul.
I'm going to hell.
Fortunately, Captain Kinchloe's efforts at sniffing out the fairer sex paid off. Several of the enlisted men on his detail located a company from the Women's Army Corps that were temporarily billeted at nearby Fort Palmer. Kinch's request for a volunteer was met with a pointed and decidedly unladylike reply from their commanding officer.
All of the skullduggery left a bad taste in the general officer's mouth.
Maybe the women should fight the wars, Hogan reflected ruefully. They have a better intelligence network than we ever did. If anything, World War II would have ended five years ago!
However, the WAC company commander did agree to come only if she could bring her charges with her. General Hogan quickly assented and soon found himself standing outside the headquarters building in front of a company of smartly dressed - and highly nervous - women standing in perfect ranks. The aliens, under guard, watched them from a second floor room on one end of the drab structure.
Captain Melinda Carswell, the company commander, neatly saluted the general officer before her. Rom, puzzled, asked why the woman raised her hand as she did.
"How should I know?" Quark grumbled in annoyance. "Hu-mons and their customs..."
"...reporting as ordered, SIR," the no-nonsense woman barked. General Hogan was impressed with the leathery-faced woman.
In another life she would have made a good DI. Or, for that matter, a Marine!
"Thank you for coming, Captain," Hogan said crisply if not politely. "As I said earlier, this is important. I don't have to tell you that national security issues are involved..."
If he didn't know better the General would have sworn he heard a soft feminine snicker floating on the desert wind. Hogan ignored it.
"...but it might work out better if we could do this inside. Privately," he emphasized.
"With all due respect, sir, I've heard the stories," the captain shot back, unfazed. "I don't know what this is about but you can do it right here and now. Sir." She added lamely, though unrepentantly.
Hogan reluctantly nodded. "Your funeral," he muttered before he stepped forward. To his relief the iron woman didn't flinch at his close-in presence.
I already feel dirty enough...
"I need you to ask me the following question," he said formally. "What is the ultimate meaning of life, the universe and everything?"
"Sir?" Captain Carlswell asked, her face genuinely puzzled at the odd request.
"Just do it," the General ordered tiredly.
"All right," she growled, clearly resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "What is the ultimate meaning of life, the universe and everything?"
In response the senior officer leaned forward and spoke into her ear. As expected, the woman before him leaped at him and started to kiss his lips with wild abandon. What Hogan didn't expect was that the question, followed by the answer - although the Ferengi still had no idea what it was - had drifted on the soft desert breeze before being absorbed by waiting feminine ears.
Despite the frantic liplock General Hogan managed to look up in time to catch the hot looks the company of women shot his way. With a burst of strength he managed to tear himself away from the captain and instantly summed up the situation with one succinctly brief phrase:
I'm screwed!
If he yelled out the antidote it was a sure bet that the men standing by the building - not to mention the Ferengi above - would hear the words. On the other hand he couldn't stay where he was without being mowed down.
That left door number three.
With surprising grace, and fueled by a sudden jolt of healthy fear, the General whirled around and started running for the safety of the building. He stumbled but managed to keep himself upright as a portion of his tunic ripped away into the clutches of the now-pursuing Captain.
Heels! They're wearing heels! A small and desperate part of Hogan's brain thought. How the hell do you run in heels?!
Meanwhile, the younger group of women, pursuing close behind, threatened to overtake them both...
...until the older female officer wheeled around and yelled '"ATTEN-HUT!" Bodies, conditioned by military training, reacted to the command and stopped in place before snapping to attention...
...before the lady captain wheeled around and squarely set her sights on the running-flat-out General . Screaming, she plunged forward...
...and was quickly followed by a roar of utter rage a few seconds later as the other women, realizing they had been tricked, raced after the speeding pair. The male personnel standing nearby, shocked into silence by the sight of a group of women running after a general officer finally, if not belatedly, realized they were about to be overrun.
The mad scramble that resulted, followed by Hogan's desperate 'Hail Mary' baseball slide, was just enough to shut the door seconds moments before the lust-filled female wave crashed against the metal plate. All of the men looked in awe - if not outright divine reverence - at the sweaty and disheveled General. Hogan, for his part, was too busy trying to catch his breath and remember he was alive.
And above it all, Quark flashed an evil smile at the females below even as his hands twisted in glee.
The Federation won't know what hit them!
A/N: Factoid: Men were wearing high heels long before women. True story. It used to be a fashion statement for European nobility to wear heels in order to (a) look taller and (b) keep their feet out of the street (Remember, sanitation hadn't come into vogue yet and there was no telling what you might find on a city street). The French Revolution, along with its guillotine, convinced people that towering over the common folk might bring you down to Earth...permanently. Heels eventually made a comeback as a lady's accessory and have been with us ever since.
The term 'sexual harassment' wasn't coined till the 1970's although the despicable behavior itself has always existed. The recent events only serve as proof. Traditionally, harassment (whether direct or indirect) has been thought of as a one way street although it can go both directions. Some examples from my own life:
(a) One of my first jobs was in a gas station run by an all-female crew. (I was the token guy stocking and doing the dirty jobs...lol.) I never really noticed anything different that first week until I went to the bathroom. I washed my hands, turned around...and there, on the top third of the door, were magazine cutouts of oiled hunks staring back at me. At the time I just laughed it off since the ladies (at the time they were in their mid-50's to late 60's) had as much chance of meeting one of these individuals as I would have meeting a female supermodel now...or any model.
(b) A few years ago (at my old workplace) one of the college-age cashiers started flirting with me. Now I'm not handsome...and even my ego honestly admits it...so I just shrugged it off and made it known that I wasn't interested. That only ramped her up to the unmemorable day where she told me about her sexual fantasies (with the obvious inference that I could turn it into reality). I had to get my boss' help at that point to fix the situation.
Thanks for reading!