JMJ

Chapter Eight

Family and Station

"On behalf of my superiors as well as my own professional opinion, I request that you as acting Grand Nagus in place of Rom son of Keldar and Ishka, bequeath to us leave to investigate into matters of the Ferengi Alliance in order to aid in this crisis."

Quark slumped into the throne, his eyes closed as he tried not to look at his nephew.

He respected him. Really and truly he did. It took a lot of strength, a lot of character, and a lot of cunning and fight to become a Ferengi Starfleet officer. Not only had Nog proved to the universe that a Ferengi could be whatever he chose to be when he set his mind to it, but he proved to the universe the true skill and unstoppable force that a Ferengi could be with or without latinum as an incentive. He soared through his academy training. He zipped past the ranks of ensign and junior lieutenant. His ingenuity in the war against the Dominion was unmatched as far as Quark was concerned. He could be captaining his own ship— his own fleet— had he wanted. Quark was surprised he wasn't unless for some reason Nog was holding back from the position on purpose. But to use the word "bequeath" with a straight face, that was something to behold.

And here Quark was finding the staff more uncomfortable than an ob-lappet despite how the first time he had been given it he had latched onto it with relish and pride… until he found out he was the butt of Zek's test to see if his son Krax was worthy of being Grand Nagus. That, and the last time he thought he was going to be Nagus for real he had been more than the butt of a test, he had been the butt of a cosmic joke that put his brother into the position instead of him. The rage and disgust had long since subsided but the embarrassment of it still wanted to tickle the back of his mind from time to time. At least he was only acting as Grand Nagus.

Quark sighed.

"And Starfleet still finds it to be in its best interest to remain here?" he asked. "Why can't you just say that you want to be here to help your people and be done with it?"

"I am here because I want to help my people," said Nog, "and I am requesting this leave for the very fact that I'm doing this for my people. You would get a far more pressing request from higher up in Starfleet if you were not going through me."

"Is that a warning, Commander?" asked Quark gently.

"It's a proposition in the best Ferengi terms, Sir," said Nog.

"Hmm."

"Aside from the threat of the Changelings not quite so forgotten by the Federation, a similar case which Starfleet hopes to prevent, there is another even that happened not too long ago, which is of more concern to the Federation in light of the Keeoopii of which I don't think you're aware, and which I've recently learned the truth about myself."

"Yes?"

"I can count on my famous uncle to understand the words 'Listen to secrets, but never repeat them,'" said Nog with the first sign of familiarity which Quark truly appreciated at this point.

Pretending to be offended Quark huffed. "Well, go on Commander. Rule Number 197, 'Hold the customer in suspense too long and you won't be able to pay them to take it.'"

"Right! There was an incident Starfleet has kept under wraps for some time, in which an unnamed and unknown parasitical race with very similar attributes to the Keeoopii attacked Starfleet at the top-most levels of authority before rooted out and destroyed by Captain Jean-luc Picard in Earth's time 2364. All were destroyed despite later claims, but a beacon was sent out that was never intercepted. Although there are some notable inconsistencies with the Keeoopii, some in Starfleet believe there could be a connection and Starfleet wants to know if this is true."

"Have you told Rom?" asked Quark pondering over this for a moment.

"I have only been given permission to relate the situation very recently."

"Hmm."

"And only to the Nagus. No one else is to know of this, and even 'acting Nagus' is pushing my limitations, sir."

"Does… Dr. Bashir know about this?"

"It's possible he knows, since he knows quite a lot of things."

"Unless this incident has nothing to do with Keeoopii."

"It's possible."

"So what exactly does Starfleet want aside from just permission to investigate. They have full permission from Rom to investigate into the Keeoopii within the Alliance already."

"We are convinced that the attack on Rom is connected with the Keeoopii, and possibly Krax, who still has not been truly found or arrested."

"We were working on that. We have a strong lead, and we were just about to take action in the Ferengi system of negotiation and interrogation. If you arrest Krax now, how will you find out anything?"

"We're not requesting to arrest Krax. That is Ferengi jurisdiction, and Starfleet and the Federations respect that the Ferengi have the right to commence within their own laws."

"Uh, that's very considerate of them."

"But there is no denying that the Keeoopii are a threat universally. They did infect DS9 too."

"True."

"And that affected Bajor, sir."

"Yes, I got all the information from Bajor. The first lady is Bajoran, after all; we're on… relatively good terms, I guess."

"I feel that in the Keeoopii investigation however, that it may be necessary to have further access than we have only on the outskirts of all that's going on within Ferenginar in order to deal with this problem."

"You do?" Quark made a face.

"Yes. I asked Captain Sisko myself and he agreed."

"Rom's medical stats?" asked Quark. "They can have them, I guess. Just have Dr. Bashir talk to Dr. Tal." He paused as Nog appeared unmoved, and as Quark's mind slowly revolved around what was blossoming there in realization, he frowned slower. "You want full access to Ferengi Alliance secure files…"

Nog flushed and opened his mouth to speak, but Quark did not let him.

"And although they give us this tantalizing information on the adventures of Jean-luc Picard, I'm guessing that they're not going to give the Alliance full access to their records."

"You know just as well as anyone that not everyone on Ferenginar is trustworthy with information that could be used to turn a profit," said Nog.

"And Starfleet is just full of a choir of saints, I suppose. They may not sit down and count their pennies like they used to but they do count their profit with just as much attention and zeal as any Ferengi. You know as well as anyone that the Federation would like nothing better than to invite us to join them, and knowing more about us may give them an advantage of undermining the people to vote for disbanding the Alliance in favor of the Federation."

Nog sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's always this petty politics with you. I could have tricked you, had I wanted to."

Quark was sure some Starfleet officer somewhere was complaining at this very moment about the stubbornness and pigheadedness and greediness of Ferengi about this very situation, but all Quark could do at the moment was shrug.

"Maybe."

"But for the sake of family, I wanted to tell you as straight out as I would have told my father."

"Thank you," said Quark, "but I have a right to not trust the Federation when during the Dominion War they proved Rule Number 284 in their readiness to employ Rules 37 and 34. 'When people fear what they do not know they're willing to pay what they don't mean,' and 'War is good for business'. When the Changelings were a threat to the security of Earth what was proposed? Offering a reward to people for finding them out? Raising money to pay a scientist to find a way to discover them easily? No. Martial law, which if you remember was basically proposed here; for the sake of leaving out politics, I won't say by whom."

"Not Starfleet."

No, but it was in the spirit of the Federation. So… tell your superiors 'no'. I believe as Acting Nagus voted in by the councils and the two or three votes allotted to the real Nagus, I speak for the planet in saying that revealing files to unauthorized people whether within our own legal system or theirs is a threat to security including the Keeoopii who may already know more than we want them to. Starfleet can ask us directly about each event individually as originally agreed upon. I find it in the best interest of all involved not to allow the stress of our current situation to influence questioning past decisions that were made with more discretion than might be made now on our part or Starfleet's. Though I appreciate the honesty, I'm surprised you let Rule Number 6 pass you by."

"'Never allow family to stand in the way of opportunity,'" said Nog darkly. "I thought that rule wouldn't be one favored by the Hidden Profiters."

"Not in the sense that it's been used for some centuries, but when it comes to doing what you know it right… don't people on Earth believe the same thing?"

Nog nodded. "I see what you're saying."

"That was just advice." Quark tried to smile, but Nog's frown did not allow it to grow much strength more than a twitch in his lip. "I suggest that you and Dr. Bashir work with Dr. Tal and Bogal. He's the head investigator of this case with your father."

"Yes, I know. Please, let's keep this professional."

Quark nodded. "The Grand Nagus."

Nog opened his mouth to speak suddenly. A tenseness overcame him. The concern for his father came to the forefront, and Quark closed his eyes, though he sounded more stressed than he looked. Being with non-Ferengi had lost him some care with sound. In reality, he never had it to begin with growing up with more non-Ferengi in his life than Ferengi, but whatever Nog was going to say he change his mind just as suddenly as he had begun. Opening his eyes again with care, Quark raised a brow.

"Something else?"

"No. Nothing. Thank you for your time, acting Nagus Quark."

Quark paused as Nog turned to leave. Just before the door opened, Quark could not help but add, "Good to see you again, Lieutenant Commander Nog. I hope we meet in less formal circumstances soon."

Nog sighed and turned once more with a nod. "Thanks, Uncle."

The door closed behind his nephew and Quark was left alone in the shimmering throne room, otherwise known as the Chamber of Opportunities. Well, except for the guard. Another Hupyrian, related to Topl'rintia, actually, who agreed to arrive for this predicament at the capital before Quark knew his temporary position. Well, this Hupyrian didn't have a vow of silence.

"So…" Quark said after a long, stiff and awkward pause in which the only real sound aside from their own calmly working bodies was the air flow coming out from beneath the golden drapes fluttering minimally on the edges of the chamber. "Uh… what do you think? Old'rigrath, right?"

"Yes, Nagus. It's not my place to give opinion."

Quark shrugged. "It is if I ask for it, isn't it? We're not on ceremony at the moment. I mean, unless you don't have an opinion. Just say so."

A transmition request suddenly went through alerting him of it on the arm of the throne.

Quark moaned. "Yes?" he demanded.

"Former Nagus Zek is requesting to see you," said Latinooma, the monotone secretary.

Sitting up straight, Quark stared in disbelief. "What? I didn't even know he was on the planet!"

Well, he should have known that Ishka would not have left him alone if she had planned on staying long.

"Quark!" came Zek's nasally croak on the voice transmitor; he sounded cheerful but incredibly pressing. "How long's it been, eh? You gunna keep me waiting all day out here?"

"Sir!" said Latinooma not so monotone anymore; in fact she sounded very irritated. "You can't just—"

"Relax, Latinooma. Look at you! You seem like you haven't been on vacation since I retired from office! All green in the face, no color at all! You should try my recently patented sun-oil from the greatest spa since Pela's Woods. Get you prepped for a vacation there. Discounts for those who collect the tickets wrapped around the—"

"Zek!" Quark interrupted. "Yes, yes, of course. Just!" he laughed despite himself, though there was very little humor in it and much more simply weariness; he shrugged. "Let him in, I guess."

Quark barely said the words, and the doors to the chamber we opened.

"There you are looking stressed and clueless, hmm, boy?" said Zek grinning from ear to ear as he pulled up in his updated chair from a walking one to a floater designed by the Clarusians.

Oh, he was probably getting so senile that Rom's predicament as well as Ishka's mourning was beyond him. Vulcan medical treatments on memory recovery didn't last forever, Quark supposed. Though, Quark had a feeling that Zek had forgotten to pay his respects at the pay box on purpose.

"Yeah, I guess that about sums it up," Quark sighed.

"Well, don't you know Rule of Acquisition Number 214? Or didn't you pay attention when Ishka was teaching you that one? And you owned a bar for thirty years. For shame."

"214," blinked Quark. "'Never begin business negotiations on an empty stomach?'"

"Not even with yourself!" declared Zek. "So why don't you come and have lunch with me. Former Nagus and Acting Nagus, eh? Practically family! In fact, you're my stepson, aren't you? The younger one."

"The older one," muttered Quark absently.

"Ah, yes, that's right. We made the younger one Nagus…"

At the mention of family ties, Quark suddenly remembered Sharlezeed, and he would much rather have lunched with her than Zek; though that went without saying. "Well, doesn't Ishka…"

"Nonsense!" said Zek. "I'm not taking 'no' for an answer, Quark! Besides, you'll want to know all about my new spa! Retirement gets boring, after a while, you know, so what better retirement I didn't know than running your own spa where when you're not counting latinum, you can sit in the hot tub all day long till you're so pruny people start thinking you're a Lurian's grandmother! But when you come out, boy, when you come out—!"

"You're as fresh as a Risian baby cheek to cheek?"

"You saw my commercial!" laughed Zek. "So! Come on, boy! Don't just sit there staring."

Quark blinked. "Okay."

"And don't forget your staff!"

"Right!"

He quickly took it from Old'rigrath's outstretched hand before standing up. He hardly had a chance to turn around before the old man had him by the wrist with his bony fingers still strangely so dexterous and strong considering his age, and Quark had no will to fight him as he followed after the chair.

"It's on me!" exclaimed Zek. "Except for the food." And he cackled.

"Yeah…" laughed Quark nervously. "Does that mean the drinks—?"

"…are on you!" teased Zek.

What started out as a Cardassian epic that was bound to cycle for eternity in monotony and dreariness ended up like a 17th century Denobulan comedy that starts out as dry as a Vulcan desert and then changes it into a psychotic "jump-laugh" like a Human jack-in-the-box on steroids. Try selling one of those in an auction. Quark sold one for nearly thirty-five bars of latinum to a young Bajoran before.

Beside himself, Quark shook his head half expecting to be dragged into an upside-down spa that Zek created in his quarters where they'd float like a children's dream in zero gravity with tea and Ferengi Gloob syrup bribe-cakes. But then, he had to remind himself that Zek had always had a habit of looking crazy and making one feel crazier anyway.

They ended up going to some place a lot more public into the Tower's chef's suite with a private booth overlooking the swamp with a sanitized computer-influenced window to make it look a little more like a tropical lagoon then the clammy winter Ferenginar City was known for.

#

"The problem isn't so much the heart attack…" said Dr. Tal to Dr. Bashir

With arms behind his back, he arched his shoulder like an old bristly rat. He was as lean as a scarecrow and a little taller than most Ferengi. The top of his head reached past Bashir's shoulder when standing side by side. Upon his otherwise very lean face, he protruded a fat suspicious pout that he always carried with him and the only thing that appeared to have meat on it aside from the typical Ferengi paunch that in him seemed present to prove he was still in a healthy condition himself.

"It's the inability to prevent any sort of instability that even a cardiac replacement could prevent without performing a risky procedure than may or may not work in transforming his whole body, perhaps even cell by cell," here Tal pinched the air with a theatrical flair, "into one that doesn't need pyrocyte at all."

"And such a procedure has never been attempted nor even much theorized about to my knowledge," said Dr. Bashir.

"Exactly."

"It all points to an unknown technology."

"Such as the unknown technologies of the Keeoopii."

"At least we know it's not contagious."

"That was first on my list of things to investigate, Dr. Bashir," said Tal rather offended as if Bashir meant to suggest that it had not been.

He paused. Perhaps his pout and temperamental stiffness was more caused by his confusion than anything. Now Tal began to pace.

After a pause Bashir asked gently, "And no indication of how or when the Grand Nagus was infected."

Tal flustered a little, but he could only shake his head with a heavy sigh.

"That doesn't leave us much to go on, except, of course, that the strongest hypothesis of where it came from was the Keeoopii, but we still don't know that for sure."

"What are they waiting for, is what I want to know," sniffed Tal.

"A way to get past security measures, perhaps," Bashir offered. "But I think it's more likely that they're waiting to have a substantial plan since everyone is now on the lookout for them. The whole universe knows what happened here now. The Ferengi are known by everyone and have ties, even if underground ones, with just about every race in the known universe."

Tal's lips stretched out over his teeth into a most sinister grin. "That they do, Dr. Bashir. But where else does the universe go when they need a new leg, so to speak, and everywhere else only offers a whole new boot— the only people you know who will always be able to get you a bootleg no matter what the trouble, no questions asked, as long as you pay for it."

Pretty way to put it, thought Bashir despite himself.

"But that's why it could be something other than the Keeoopii," said Tal; he shrugged. "I suppose I should let you have a look at the patient yourself now?"

He seemed to resent the idea, but Bashir knew why. The Federation was getting a little nosy into space that was not their own. Bashir knew he could not make a promise to Tal that he would use what he knew only in what would help the Ferengi that Tal would likely believe, whether it meant more help or less help from Starfleet. However, it was no secret that the Federation did want to look good in front of the Alliance for their own gain. Not that Ferengi resented such practices, but the hypocrisy to blame them for it when everyone else practiced such things too even if the Alliance used money and other people used other things…

"Whatever you feel is best," said Bashir at last. "Perhaps you'll come with me during my analysis, Dr. Tal?"

Tal wrapped his arms behind his back again looking more like a scraggly rat than ever; Bashir could almost see a naked rat's tail swooping between the manmade coattails of his suit. "That's not necessary. You've seen my reports and I've made my analysis. Perhaps you will find something that I haven't with the science behind you medical enhancements."

What was odd this time was that there was no irony in Tal's voice now.

"Then, if nothing presents itself that will be better, we shall begin a transfusion of pyrocyte, to at least have him up and about again for a short while," sniffed Tal. "Even if he will remain unfit for duty."

"That goes without saying, I think."