JMJ

Chapter Thirteen

One False Alarm too Many

For anyone who spent any long amount of time as a radik farmer— or either as a liquidator or a tax levier who had to listen to the complaints of one when they were in trouble with the law— it was that green-fringed kelpweed always grew back. Even getting rid of all the radik in the patch, wiping everything clean and starting over was no guarantee that one was free of it. With certain chemicals being illegal too these days, it was even more difficult, despite being a phenomenal way to fine people.

So unless one wished to weed the soggy patch oneself or hire a few hands to do it for you, one would have to buy a computer operated weeder and even some of those were outlawed thanks to a few under-the-table deals between certain companies and certain people in the government wishing to take certain other companies out of the competition by saying they were unsafe in some manner either for the environment or the user. Not that some of these were not legitimate complaints, but there was nothing like getting money below the taxation radar by dealing with a wealthy company adhering to all the modern safety and environmental laws simply because they were large enough to afford to do so, leaving smaller companies to struggle simply because they could not afford to keep up with all the constantly changing laws and taxes.

Could anything be more profitable than such a life as being the one who received all such funds as the clever middleman?

So even now, yet again fired from the Tower of Commerce, Brunt was confident he would grow back. He always grew back more tenaciously than the time before. He also had too many connections whether from bribery or blackmail, and this little setback working for an information company would not have him doing grunt work for long. Not even those few short days when he was controlled by a Keeoopii set him back for anything other than sympathy-pay, which he played up considerably with those in the new field of psychiatric counseling in the Alliance. How well he bribed a few more people to say he had been traumatized enough to be subsidized. It was just ending now. Free money did not last forever. Mostly because there was no such thing as Brunt knew too well.

So as he strutted along the covered causeway this evening ready for any sort of information he could exploit, exaggerate or underdeveloped— however it would be most useful and pleasing to his temporary employers— he did not drag himself around like other Ferengi did when their pay was docked to so little or after losing so much. One would not have known the difference had he still been one of the FCA's finest liquidators under Grand Nagus Zek.

He stopped briefly for a bite to eat at a restaurant he knew well to tip at in such a way as to gain support later.

This establishment he sat it was dimly lit, but clean and fine with sweet smells and gentle, almost hypnotic sounds that may not be quite what some people would call musical but certainly what people may term sound-therapy— an ancient and proven custom of Ferengi, especially among females. The softest, most soothing bells and chimes, and humming— some of which went beyond the decibel of sound most other races were capable of hearing. As he drank and ate at a slow and comfortable pace, he was soothed the most by the song of his waitress between courses who was trained by the old woman who ran the place to perform the most erotic of oo-mox rituals he had ever experienced. Leave it to a female to perfect what was already perfection and so much better than any nightclub or bar that had ever utilized the experience in the times before the reforms.

He left well-fed and very pleased with himself as he made his foolish waitress girl blush by his flattering comment of her service and beauty. Then he was off again. He smiled smugly as he past Quark's Taste of Nines, from which he had already been banned from entering. Even that gained him sympathy with certain people who disliked Quark.

It was not even a shadow of Quark's original Bar and Grill, mostly because he got rid of the dabo girls in accordance with those who believed in the care of the Dayitela or Maker* of the Hidden Profiters and in all their prudishness. Whether for show or for true piety, Quark was obedient to their Code of Conduct more than the modern Rules of Acquisition.

Brunt shook his head and laughed inwardly, but just as he passed by with his back to the quaint little bar and grill with its childish space-station motif, his confidence was shaken with a certain surprise that would shake all souls alike from whatever pedestal they stood upon like an earthquake that could shake open the strongest pedestal bubble. It was the interruption of the unexpected, no matter how silly, that made even the most worldly-wise and confident question the equilibrium of the universe if only for a second. That instinctive fear of a coming predator swept through. Spine vertebrae buzzed with a power charge of adrenaline.

It was at least thirty seconds for Brunt as he spun around at the shout behind him to stare with that stereotypical Ferengi gape at the recognition from a fellow species with the most peculiar declaration coming straight out of the restaurant.

"Oh, good it is you, Brunt!"

How few people actually said that to him before!

"Someone I know that has sense even if for a price!" It was one of Quark's employees.

Probably, the last to leave him when Quark had been banished and the first to be rehired when his business license had been reinstated but Brunt could not rightly recall his name. He knew him well enough to be the quiet sulky type to cling to the ankles of the same employer forever without caring if he was ever promoted so long as life remained stable. His loyalty to Quark even with his supposed conversion to an ancient and controversial religion was unshaken. Brunt would have been not the least bit surprised to find that this sad, melancholic creature would simply join in his boss' spiritual crusade if only out of this loyalty, but to find him shivering and looking over shoulder as though the ears of Quark were vigilant even from the Tower, Brunt's confusion soon turned up into a slow and lazy smile.

This new surprise pleased him, because if there was one thing he knew about quiet and sulky people, when they had something to actually say it was something usually worth listening to.

"And it will be quite a price, I promise you," Brunt assured him. "Probably more than you can afford no matter which way you look at it."

He nodded to the restaurant.

"Excuse me, Brunt," said the employee now with a servile bow of his head. "Please, we can't talk here."

"We can't talk in the restaurant either, and you must have something very lucrative going on if you think it'll be worth the risk of arrest and fining on my part."

The employee lowered his voice. "I know you work for information now."

"I always do," sneered Brunt as the employee looked uneasily behind him once more.

When he turned back to Brunt, Brunt could almost see the words of Rule of Acquisition Number 48 written in his knitted brow, "The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife." It was stronger than if he wore a mirror on his head for Brunt to admire his own sneer. The employee did not trust Brunt, but that just proved how desperate he was.

"We can go into my apartment," the employee suggested.

"We've already been seen. There's no use in secrecy. Besides, who's going to care?"

"It's a matter of a breach of Alliance security," the employee whispered.

"Then I'll meet you in my office," Brunt whispered back, and he pressed a button on his PADD that could instantly send his credentials and address of his current position to the nearest other PADD, which the employee checked quickly with a nod.

Then theatrically Brunt spun around just right so that his coattails struck the employee like a tail of a horse. "If you want to get anything from me you're going to have to prove a lot."

The employee stared stupidly for a few seconds himself, but then his eyes focused with understanding.

"Yes, yes, of course, Sir."

"But if you want my advice, I'd wait until you close shop to meet me there," Brunt hissed with his grinning teeth.

The other nodded.

"What's your name again?"

"Broik." The butts of Broik's wrists actually clasped together before he digressed to go inside.

Without reply, Brunt simply nodded before he moved on without once looking back.

The mystery of it all made Brunt feel more confident than before. Whatever it was, whether true or false, serious or trivial, it would be something he could use against the Shadow Nagus' reign with her two simpering stooge-boys always under her thumb whether to their knowledge or not. Keldar's Family never ceased to bring down a name even worse than it had been with Keldar himself ruining his own name to his humiliatingly profitless death. If his name had been worth anything beforehand, the rest of his family would have buried him barbarian-styled so deeply in dishonor he would have come out the other side of the planet.

Whatever Broik was up to would be a mark against Quark, especially, and Brunt would be one step closer to regaining his position, or perhaps a better one. Opportunity was always waiting for those that had the sense to utilize it. If it was useful enough, he may even be able to dodge paying back his benefactors for his current job now.

#

"Well, at least it was a false alarm," said Quark rubbing his head. "Nothing wrong with you, but where would a rumor like that even come from, and why?"

"I don't know," said Bashir.

"But are you sure Rom's well enough to come to the meeting?"

"I think it's better if he goes than doesn't."

"Well, you're the doctor, I guess," said Quark.

For some reason he was the one feeling dizzy. Maybe he should have listened to Sharlezeed and gone to bed instead of running off on impulse to renew their marriage with an official license right away. But it was far too late for that now. He felt like he had not slept in weeks, and it took all his effort to keep from yawning. He was sure he was not fooling Bashir either way. He may not have had ears like a Ferengi, but he knew his profession and was keener with his knowledge of physical ailments than any bodily sound that a Ferengi could hear could interpret.

Right now, Bashir gave him that doctor's look. He had already hinted even before all this that he felt Quark to be overworking himself, especially as he was no longer in his prime between keeping a (albeit smaller and lower key) version of his bar while still staying full time as First Clerk. Now he had being Acting Nagus to deal with and a wife to get to know again.

But all the doctor said in reference to all that was, "If I were you, I'd turn in early tonight."

Quark nodded absently as he turned away.

"You don't have to push yourself so hard you know." Oh, well— Bashir was going on anyway. "That's not what I meant when I told you that you knew what you had to do."

"I'm making up for lost profit."

"The only thing you really had to do was face the truth you'd been denying and denied and become what you always desired and needed to be, but not put on your shoulders all the political problems and corruption of your planet— and not to kill yourself."

"Well, you already stopped me from doing that already, I'm pretty sure," Quark teased in reference to his false suicide attempt.

"I'm serious. One of these days I'll have to strap you down in a shuttle for Risa."

Quark laughed. "I'll turn in early, okay, Doctor? Right after this surprise meeting with Krax."

He winked at Bashir knowingly and straightened himself importantly. "It shouldn't take long."

"Rom's already waiting for you."

"I'd ask you to come too for your professional input," said Quark, "but I don't think Krax will feel as open with a 'Hew-mon' around."

"I understand," said Bashir somberly, but inwardly he revealed his withheld humor not lost upon Quark's hearing.

"Wish me luck then."

"Good luck."

Down the corridor Quark strutted, though inwardly himself he felt like he was forgetting something. Or at least he should be more cautious about something.

It was only Krax and Krax alone with Rom, Quark, guards, some of the Congress of Economic advisers and plenty of secret security, but they were all going to talk like civilized people at the table to discuss Krax's business and Meegs and a few other things. Not in a trial chamber or an interrogation cell but just to have a talk. It was a meeting with synthale and all. As low key but at the same time as intensely Ferengi as it got.

And as he came through the door there they all were. A window overlooked the city covered in a foggy rainfall. The lights were atmospheric, the drinks already set, and Rom pleasantly offered Quark a seat at the table at the last chair left for him. Rom was again in his Nagal coat with staff in hand and compasses adorning his coat below the chest-buckle.

Quark had remembered his ob-lappet, and not to scratch it.

"Okay, now that everyone's here," said Rom in his authoritative voice, which admittedly usually sounded sillier than his casual one, "I want everyone to know that… um…"

Quark eyed him with a raised brow but waited patiently since he himself had absolutely no idea what Rom was trying to say enough to attempt to correct him.

"That my brother is free from parasitical control."

Now Quark really squinted as everyone murmured solemnly in understanding to Rom's obvious statement. All Quark could do was smile awkwardly as he resisted a sip of synthale.

"Were we discussing the possibility?" Quark asked with an innocent tease and a bright smile to match.

"Krax was not going to continue any talk until he knew your status particularly, Quark," said Ooaseel with an innocent smile of her own.

The room was very quiet to the outside, Quark noticed. Aside from the regular humming of air filtration, the room was sealed off entirely from sound. Even the rain outside the window was as silent as through it was a screen on mute displaying rain, rather than rain falling in actuality.

Krax smiled. "After all these years, I had to make sure I was speaking with the real Quark," he said snidely.

The same obnoxious dork as always, Quark thought, so shrugging off the awkwardness of the moment, Quark cleared his throat.

"Well, here I am in the flesh," he said directly to the little worm of a man still seemingly pale from the long years hiding in Zek's shadow only to hide in some dark corner of the universe until only recently. "The accusations against you are pretty strong, wouldn't you agree? Of collaborating with Keeoopii, of betraying your whole planet? I don't think there's any amount of latinum to bribe any Nagus in the history of Nagi that would compensate for the risk involved in the Alliance's integrity."

"That's why I'm not prepared to pay in latinum, especially these days. We all know the worth of latinum isn't what it used to be," said Krax. "Even if all I was accused of was embezzling from liquidators, I wouldn't have a bar enough to compensate for the bribery of today. Bribes certainly aren't worth much… or worth too much depending on the view. The inflation is more than literal. It's both."

Quark laughed. "Who said anything about bribery in the first place? All we want is the truth and then we'll discuss terms. You're certainly in no condition to demand anything from us the other way around."

Rom who seemed to have had a brain malfunction for a moment or two, woke up suddenly now and said with severity, "Yes! So we all would like to know what you've been up to. This whole room is set up with security that will know if anyone is lying."

Quark did not recall that being part of the plan, but perhaps it was a bluff? It was a poor one if it was, but Quark nodded solemnly to play it up either way. It was the consistency of lies that made one poor or strong, after all. "If you believe it, they believe," as the Rule of Acquisition 267 stated, and at that point you could say the stars could be shattered like glass by running a ship into one, and they would believe it.

"Alright," sniffed Krax, despite his fidgeting that Quark remembered only too well. "After being shunned from my father's side and the whole Alliance has been one slip away from running aground ever since, I've thought long and hard about the wisdom of the Nagus before his own slow decay to leaking below deck, okay? One does not seize power, one slowly accumulates it. So I set out to do just that. After slowly getting certain competition out of the way true and honorable in the old way of the Ferengi, even if not in the New Course or to the Hidden Profiters," he spat the latter name in Quark's direction especially, but he digressed, and shook his head. "I found ways of making profit in the meanwhile, raised up my cousin Meegs as my own son, bought from Nava a failing empire only to strengthen it up again. And then because Meegs felt he was not being treated fairly, despite me giving him everything in his business contract that we agreed upon, he betrays me."

"So you've never encountered Keeoopii?" asked Quark.

"Oh, that, yes, well… yes, if you want the truth. So have a lot of people, including yourself. I was infected just as much as you were and it was again my own Meegs who at that time saved me from it when the 'medicine' was being freely sent around." Krax shrugged. "But now I've come to remedy that with the help of this economic council."

"So you know something about the Keeoopii?" asked Quark when no one else seemed willing to speak. "But… what about the council that hasn't anything to do with the Grand Nagus?"

He took a sip of synthehol, but it tasted pretty empty. It made him feel dizzier somehow as though he was going to faint.

"Oh, it's okay, Brother," Rom said. "He just means it was the council that spoke to me first on his behalf."

Quark looked around. Everyone was so unusually stiff. It was more like being in a council of Vulcans.

"What are you all talking about?" He tried to sit up, but as he did he found that his chair was stuck to the floor. "Huh?"

His feet likewise were stuck. His arms were stuck to the sides of the chair, and there were straps he did not notice before as the cause. He struggled a little, but it was no good. He turned sharply to Rom.

"Rom!?"

"I'm taking my rightful spot as the heir of my father," said Krax smugly. "Just as soon as your brain is so scrambled that Keeoopii will have trouble getting you to speak coherently even under their control."

"What?" squeaked Quark.

The guards slammed his head against the table.

"Ah!"

"Yes, squeal!" delighted Krax. "You'll be doing a lot more of that for the Keeoopii Dance, you know!"

"No, no, no! You can't be serious!" cried Quark. "You're all are infected? Even Rom?!"

"It was easy to infiltrate here with you falling for a pretty face," said Krax. "A familiar one, and you fell for it just like you fell for my father's trick about being Nagus. You didn't take his advice then and you don't take it now."

"Sharzee…?"

"I'm sorry, Quark," he heard her say behind him, though, he could not see her. "It is necessary, though, for you to become whole. Then we can be together forever again."

"Being controlled by Keeoopii?" Quark rasped.

"After the Dance," she said, her voice echoing oddly; it almost sounded like Natima's voice instead… or was it Grilka's.

But all wonder stopped as he heard a cold and horrible slap of a Keeoopii out of a person's brain. It's soundproof, pod medallion was opened. He could hear the Keeoopii sickeningly reaching for his open ear canal as loudly as a cymbal crash. And it was not alone. It gnashed its horrible teeth and clapped its tentacles together along with four or five others as though they were all making hand signals to each other.

"No! Please!" he begged; he whimpered. "PLEASE! We can talk about this! We can make an agreement! What could they possibly have offered you all that you WANT it like this!?"

"To be like it was before!" said Krax.

"To be like it should be in the future of the Alliance. Cold equality for all within," said the gentle voice of Ooaseel.

"And to be stronger together for all the power and the latinum both figuratively and spiritually for the Divine Treasury at the end of the Great River," breathed the voice of that woman that was supposedly Sharlezeed, but she sounded almost like his mother now… like his mother at a time when he was very young and her voice still smooth and… well, it was still strong.

"Moogie!" Quark sobbed like a little boy with a fever; he choked.

The sound of the Keeoopii warming up for their Dance got nearer and nearer. Now he could feel them. They were wet and cold as the first struck his ear. He could hear its vitals against his veins. It slid into the ear canal. The next ones followed in a conga line.

"No, please, no, no, no!" screamed Quark.

Then the dizziness was like a crashing wave. He heard and saw nothing of the room around him, but he was suddenly thrust into a great stormy ocean without a boat, without a raft, without any sight of land or sense of up or down. Were those the stars above or the glittering specks of sand mingling with shimmering bubbles of latinum in self-panning? He was torn one way and then another. It was almost like his brain was being sucked into a drain, a wormhole in the universe, a whirlpool in the Great Material Continuum. All reason was gone. Shrieks of madness sounded more without him than from within him. He howled but he heard nothing from himself, only the howling of the tempest, and his breath was taken away.

Suffocating in a sea of swollen stars below a sky of sickeningly gurgling yellow bubbles more like something in bile ready to erupt from a sick stomach than the beauty of the unbreakable liquid currency of the Ferengi. Maybe he himself was inside out. He felt like he was ripped open and sealed back together all the wrong way like through a seriously malfunctioned transporter.

Then suddenly all came to a violent stop. His head was still spinning as he lay sprawled out on the table they had all been having their negotiations at. Everyone stared down at him as though he was a stuffed targ ready for a hungry band of drunken Klingons to feast upon, but they were all Ferengi. Then he heard a new voice tickling faintly at his ear.

"Quark…"

He was sitting upright suddenly and Zek was sitting right beside him with his lips nearly right inside his ear— hot and tickling like some creature ready to slip into his head.

"'Trust is the biggest liability of all,'" said Zek.

Quark nodded solemnly… absently. He sat tall and straight, and smiled with a very Ferengi toothy sneer; though inside he felt himself screaming again but it could not reach the surface. It was more than a Ferengi sneer of greed and triumph, it was hunger, ravenous and demonic like in the ancient lessons of the Krakatwa.

Without warning he lunged forward with his teeth bared as he bit whoever was nearest him with sharp, barbarian jaws spilling the yellow blood of the Ferengi like a jackpot of liquid latinum. It burned him like fire but he did not care as he drank his full like a vampire beast!

#

"Ah..!" Quark woke up still panting, still solid. Still… yes, still.

Still…

He breathed a sigh of relief. Sweating and hot from his dreams, he closed his eyes thanking all of the good in the spiritual realm that it had only been a dream.

His dreams could be more powerful than life it seemed, but then it had always been that way. Silent in the night, he recalled a time when he would sneak away from the bedroom where he and his brother slept when they still had to share, and he would whisper to his mother about a nightmare before slipping next to her side. Rom hardly ever had had nightmares at all but slept all night long as dead as a rock.

He shook his head.

"Quark?

He jumped.

"Right!"

He almost forgot.

Sharlezeed.

For a split second he was terrified of her, but then it had only been a dream that had demonized her. Even in that his mind had not been able to decide if she was she or some other important female figure. He relented and sighed as she walked cautiously towards the sofa he had been sleeping uncomfortably on. Quickly, he wiped the drool from his lip, and then slowly rubbed the soreness in his jaw that had been pressed painfully hard against the arm of the sofa.