Chapter Twenty-Two

Down the Steps

Pel watched the ship leave the atmosphere from where she stood on a causeway platform. She admitted that a part of her would not have been surprised, even if devastated, had the transport been shot down on the way, but it was safe. Sunlight filtered dreamily through the gentle rain as though welcoming the ship into a heavenly haven beyond the reach of mortals.

Mr. and Mrs. Aploos were allowed to leave, and although Pel would have liked to have spoken with them once more before they had, she reminded herself that her time had not been entirely wasted. Besides, she might have had more use speaking with the crew of the Star Seeker than with the Pelipans, but the Star Seeker had left atmosphere yesterday evening.

Pel had been doing a little research of her own lately, unbeknownst to anyone except Bennar and Twazel. She had really wanted to tell Quark that Sharlezeed daughter of Zarga was not exactly a trustworthy person in his delicately balanced political position, especially not to bring her with him on such a risky journey. She had warned Bennar to be careful about her without revealing too much to him, but that was all she had managed before their departure.

She could not know for sure, but she supposed that was just as well that she had not caught Quark. Quark probably would not have believed it coming from Pel who had for so long harbored such a girlish crush on him. For her to tell him not to trust his long, lost wife, which certainly explained a lot about Quark's behavior about relationships in general, would be just asking to be scoffed at. Pel had no time to deal with Quark's stubbornness.

So she would just have to let the stars take care of their own now along that wise old River which those stars alighted like Ferenginar's jellyfish lanterns.

As the Pelipan transport disappeared into the dream-lined sky, Pel took a step firmly upon the ground, her shoes click-clacking against the gleaming tiles as she slipped down from the domed platform back into the anthill causeways. There was someone she needed information from, and she was going to get it. Someone knew something about the mental smog surrounding the Tower of Commerce.

It seemed that anyone who spent too long a time there became difficult to reach, difficult to understand, difficult to function properly, and she too had heard about the cases of low pyrocyte in the city. All the cases came from employees or frequenters of the Tower, and it had started only just before the Grand Nagus' experience. She had tested her own pyrocyte levels this morning and found them to be normal. Maybe she had not been there long enough to experience that as she had been spending a lot of time in northern Lagoran on her new ranch until these events.

With Ooaseel now as Acting Nagus, nothing seemed to get any better either, nor had any plans to go forward taken any action. The intensity outside the Tower as so many tried to contact them only to be ignored or forgotten was making some of those New Coursers antsy enough to prove to their fellows that hierarchy in itself was indeed as evil as they preached. No one wanted a revolution. Ferengi prided themselves in never having fought in full-out wars, but it was a dread of their inner-most hearts to fight such a war that one dared to call "civil".

Not even the ruthlessness of the legal battles in the courtrooms that made the Alliance had truly come to bloodshed in most cases, save the pettiest instances. The casualties had been miniscule compared to even the civil war of Hupyrian which the Ferengi had the pride of having stopped albeit thousands of years ago.

Pel may have known that it was not the Tower's intention to ignore those on the outside. It was a miasma that was breaking up the equilibrium of the ears of the Tower like a bad communication break-up. However, some New Coursers may be willing in their impatient emotionalism, if the Tower did not shape up, and it had only been a couple days.

Or had it been?

The fact that some people had been blaming Quark all year for putting a dam on the River (whether they still believed in it or not) made her nervous— not just for him but for his no-tax position with the belief that the government had no right to take anyone's profit without their permission— not to mention his support of the Hidden Profiters.

She was not even sure about leading Councilor Traymak's information being worth the ten bars of latinum she was paying for it, but if she had to she would wring out of him everything he knew with all the skill of negotiating she had in her. Traymak himself had gone from being interested in the Hidden Profiters to seeming distant either way— about most things, really, but he did have a level head as far as Pel could sense. He was watching and waiting before making a move. He was a DaiMon at heart still and no one should forget that when dealing with him.

She rode the treadline for a while instead of walking and looked as natural as any shopping woman on the causeways, except for her lack of makeup, which she refused to wear.

She could only smile and shake her head at a pair of silly painted-up girls right now.

It was a man from Clarus who sold the makeup, and the native Clarusian was doing a fine job on his line more than anyone else in the Alliance so much so that it was moving out far beyond Ferengi women, out into the stars made of latinum for sure. The funniest part of it was that native Clarusian women could not even use the make-up. It was water resistant; it was not entirely waterproof, especially in such hard waters as those that made up Clarus. Part of Pel almost wished she had thought of the line first. Even with monopolies being illegal it would be difficult to catch up with the reputation of Love Anemone now.

She came to one of those perfect little booth bars that Ferenginar had in all out-of-the-way corners for secret business. Most Ferengi business was rather private in general, and she was glad for the fact that unlike other places in the universe, the more suspicious they would look, the more normal it would seem. Unlike any black market on Pelipa, it was as normal as anything to order a drink behind long curtains and loud, percussion-based live performances that blocked the prying from listeners better than a soundproof wall, especially when those performances became more sensual and less about music.

Admittedly, after the very prudish sensibilities of Pelipa and the belief in the virtue of chastity of the Hidden Profiters, Pel could not help but feel somewhat uncomfortable going past the main stage. She refused to look in that direction, and she felt even without Pelipan influence that she had still very little respect, especially these days, for any woman who would chose out of her own free will to sell herself in such a fashion. She recalled watching the Dabo girls at Quark's bar with an inward shiver, not of fear but distaste. She always recalled those grubby, lustful paws of Dabri and he likely lived at these places not so much for business' sake but for pure pleasure as no girl in her right mind would pursue a man like Dabri without a lot of latinum involved.

Hugging the wall she found the booth she wanted. She was early and she thought that she had beat Traymak here by a long shot. Perhaps he would be delayed the more by the performances on stage.

But as she came to the booth she stopped suddenly upon hearing Traymak's voice. She stiffened in alarm at the mention of her own name, and it was not to call out to her. He was speaking of her, and the instant she caught her name, her hearing narrowed in through to his voice alone in the tumultuous sea of voices and clamor.

"—Pel …," he said casually as she focused as through a lens of vision, "someone would notice."

Pel frowned.

Traymak and his listener were not in a shielded booth, but were right in the open, walking towards the nearest exit.

She followed, though not in a hurry and not directly, so that the sound of her footsteps towards them would not sound out of tune with the rest of the place. Neither Traymak nor the other person paid any heed to her as she saw them leave. They went down a flight of steps rather than a lift.

She wanted to follow further, but she was not sure it would be wise. For all she knew they were leading her down there on purpose, and whether that was paranoia or not, she knew at least that Traymak could not be trusted.

She paid for a drink from the impatient proprietor, and dropped with a huff into a chair. After a sip and the percussion clinking and tinkling away around a digitalized version of a traditional Ferengi harpsichord, she stood up again and went for the archway that led down the steps. No one stopped her, or gave her a second glance.

She felt like confronting them directly. She had a weapon, of course, and she was good with it, but just before she reached for her pistol, someone tapped her from behind.

Teeth gnashing, she spun around, pistol in hand.

"Careful!" sneered the woman. "No need to make a scene. We were wondering if you were going to join us, Pel?"

Pel blinked.

"Didn't Traymak tell you that the meeting was downstairs?"

"He forgot to mention it," Pel sniffed putting her weapon away.

The woman nodded. "Then don't be shy and come down with us."

Had she really fell for a trap? Were these all Keeoopii-controlled people? She did not want to believe it, but as she turned and saw the proprietor looking at them with a very understanding sort of look, she knew that whatever was going on was completely alright, if not downright overseen, by the establishment itself.

But it had been Pel who suggested this place to Traymak, not the other way around. She had never trusted him enough to choose a place.

"Of course," said Pel without too much hesitation.

She brought the behaviors of Quark and Broik to mind when under Keeoopii influence, and she intended to utilize it as well as she could. Maybe they believed she was already controlled. It was a long shot, perhaps, but a Ferengi took any opportunity no matter how slim the chances.

"There's resistance," she said as she confidently followed the strange woman down the steps; she thought her earlaces were a bit overdone and looked unpleasantly heavy with their numerous yellow and white stones winking on every light on several chains. "It's made me somewhat lightheaded."

She smiled at the woman and the woman smiled back, and together they went down the steps as though as familiar as sisters.

There was the sort of cackling and husky talk that was not uncommon for a Ferengi gathering. One or two people she recognized from the Tower, but most people were unknown to her. There was a sprinkle of foreigners mixed in among them too, and at least two of those foreigners were from outside the Alliance.

No one paid attention to her as they began to talk. She found Traymak and instantly went up to him with indignant resolution.

"You didn't tell me this was going to be a party!" she sniffed.

"You may not have come otherwise," retorted Traymak with a careless shrug; though the look he gave her was not given idly; there was something in it that told her to be careful.

She considered again whether her hunch was correct and that they did believe her to be under their control, but that would also mean that Traymak also was faking it. Unless this too was part of the charade. Not even his insides could be trusted. He was a fully trained privateer. Not only that but he had become the leading Marauder-class ship dealer of the entire Alliance. He knew everything about dark dealings. He was the wild card of the Council of Economic Advisers. He was the picture of Ferengi wisdom of the old ways and was the balance of the new while never sacrificing what a Ferengi stood for. Opportunity and profit was obviously his entire life. Why Zek or Ishka had chosen him on their council was not one hundred percent apparent, but Pel had assumed it was ultimately because it had been safer to have such a man on their side than against them.

With all that in mind, Pel truly doubted Traymak would join the Keeoopii of his own free will. To trick him a second time into receiving one not of his will seemed very unlikely.

"What was it I heard? You're having partner troubles?" Traymak went on. "Everyone'll think that you'd've been better off killed in the accident with your other partner and that your negotiation skills have been compromised."

"Hmph!" said Pel.

But she knew that he was at least directly telling her now, whether she chose to believe him, that this was a setup by him.

It did make logical sense that it would be wiser to learn information from the Keeoopii themselves rather than risk talking about it and be overheard, especially since, Traymak had to have been faking being under Keeoopii influence for some time if she was going to believe all this at all. He would not want to risk being discovered, so instead he brought her to them, claiming that some Keeoopii who probably was no longer living had taken control of her.

The problem with that, however, was that she had gotten the impression that the Keeoopii center had ways of knowing when one of their own had been killed or compromised. According to Dr. Bashir's research, the Keeoopii were all imbedded with microscopic chips. Traymak had to have been clever indeed if he fooled them in such a way— twice.

What did he do? Keep two Keeoopii prisoner in his wallet?

She almost wished she could hunt his pockets now for the medallions.

The door to the stairs was closed and sealed. They were sound-proofed from the universe as much as if they were in the Vault itself, and somehow she had this creeping feeling that this was closer to the Vault than she really wanted to be.

Traymak smiled at her.

"The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife," Pel thought dourly, but his smile was not very large and not very sincere, which to her felt more sincere than otherwise.

He was afraid, and unless the Keeoopii and the real Traymak were having partner-issues of their own, she felt she could trust his insides in collaboration with his grim smile as faint of a sound as it was. His heart trembled ever-so-slightly. It was almost unperceivable. He seemed to try to hide it even from her, and he likely had experience with that too. As he looked away, he seemed to have recognized that he had revealed something he probably should not have, calmed himself, and without pressing, even with eye-contact, Pel relented and followed his vision to one person in particular.

She knew the man; though not well in person. His infamy was more than Dabri's in the lives of Ferengi known to have had dealings with him. He was the ex-Liquidator Brunt, and he was bowing with gracious sleaze before the woman who had brought Pel down the steps.