JMJ

Chapter Thirty

Ferengi Fringes

"You've brought the prisoner alive."

It was not quite a question but not quite a statement. His stereotypical Ferengi gape and squinting eyes as he stared at Lek almost made him look more like a looter than a parasitically processed guard. He probably had been. Most of the Ferengi employed on the Paradigm's Haven were originally fringe roamers who had no lobes to be high end marauders much less to sense the danger of making deals with the likes of Meegs only to have their wills taken from them. Like many people of the stars, the worst of one's race and the best were always out among them, and this Ferengi, hardly older than a child who had probably never been to his home planet except maybe to sell scraps at the capital as his people had always done, was like a breath from the Ferengi past. Even his clothes reflected the renegade attire of such people. Apparently Meegs had equipped no one with uniforms. He even still had his chest belt which had once been used to carry extra ammunition for various weapons, but he was equipped only with a simple phase pistol now.

He cocked his head listening, and Lek smiled knowing only too well that the Keeoopii could do little to thwart slow wit. The irony was that the Keeoopii seemed to do better in those that thought quick and thought themselves wise. The boy looked back at the prisoner too listen to him as well before returning again to Lek with grave suspicion.

"We thought it best to have him examined by those here to better discover his confident," Lek retorted with a sniff. "Meegs gave me full reign to decide such things in my contract."

"There's more people behind him?" demanded the boy in a hissy sort of manner— definitely a marauder's son.

"So far just one, but I'll have him too if DaiMon Meegs desires it."

The boy nodded stupidly.

Lek rolled his eyes impatiently. "I don't have all day! I was already granted leave."

And he pushed past the boy and tugged his bound prisoner rudely with him, so that his prisoner gave out an "ulp" and ducked his head miserably.

"Wait! You can't interrupt Leader!" gasped the boy hurrying after him. "He already has prisoners!"

With a huff Lek stopped. "You mean the First Clerk?"

"Yes!" whined the boy, his fears of Meegs heightened to a near dizzying panic by the Keeoopii in his head; his insides trembling, his breath more hissy than before, and his eyes twitching in that way Lek knew greenhorns to make when deciding if it was worth the risk of being outgunned to take out his weapon…

"You can't possibly be afraid of a man more a prisoner than the prisoner," Lek scoffed.

"The Dance is in place in your head," nodded the boy so that he almost choked; whether he was remembering something about his own enslavement or not was difficult to say.

"Yes," said Lek darkly as he leaned in close to the cowering boy and his squinting little eyes. "And for making me wait to have the entertainment troupe removed, I demand to be refreshed until he's done playing games with that idiot Quark!"

"You mean…"

"Lunch!" snapped Lek playing up his already rather harsh-sounding voice.

"Oh." Then the boy slowly reversed emotions to anger. It was as noisily going on in his body as a shipment of boxes collapsing into each other in the pull of sudden gravity from one end of a hold to another, and it was about as violent too with that frustrated Keeoopii in his head.

It was becoming less ironic and more disturbingly fascinating how the Keeoopii struggled at the controls of a brain too slow to keep up with the meticulousness of a constantly moving Keeoopii brain. Since Keeoopii were more or less brains with squiggling limbs they could not understand the physical life of this simple child. Even Belongo seemed to take note in it from Lek's example of study. But anger was from the same baser instinct as fear, and once it took hold so completely in the boy, he had his weapon in his hand without reserve— not that an eliminator such as Lek could not outgun such an amateur even half under the influence of nerve gas.

"You're in no position to demand anything, eliminator," said the boy, the seething hatred of the Keeoopii burning the boy's frustration into one with its own.

Lek shrugged, and he proceeded to leisurely and confidently seat himself on a bench near the wall of the corridor they were in.

"Then I'll just wait right here," said Lek throwing one leg over the other with a predatory cock of his head to the boy, "with you." Then he closed his eyes and turned away with little concern, "and you can guard me the entire time. Me and Belongo together."

The boy thought a moment. Then he nodded. "Not right here. If you really are in need of refreshments, I'll take you to get something to eat."

There would be more people there to back the boy up without admitting that he felt he needed backup against a man with four Keeoopii holding his brain hostage. That Lek would risk his own sanity for killing a simple pawn was ludicrous, of course, but the paranoia of scavengers was known to Lek only too well.

There had been more than one such Ferengi who had tried to commission his abilities, somehow getting access to his secure lines. In his earlier career Lek had taken jobs for such people more often, but he only accepted them at all now because of the strange dangers they would sometimes get themselves into. In fact once he had even been faced with Borg— almost a little too much for any Ferengi. But then, so was this… except that this was personal.

After all, the boy's sudden change of heart in the situation at hand was more likely the Keeoopii not trusting the boy's emotions to be bridled enough to keep him from doing something stupid. It could even be that the parasite somehow feared that Lek's very unorthodox presence could bring its host to his senses.

"Good," remarked Lek with a nod.

"What about… him," asked the boy pointing to Belongo.

"He's drugged pretty well," said Lek patting Belongo on the shoulder, "as gentle as an aftershower and as compliant as a Clarusian seamilker."

Lek wished that Belongo had not spaced-out his eyeballs suddenly so stupidly or lowered his jaw as though about to drool, but the boy was fooled nonetheless. He did not even give a second listen but nodded still with most of his attention on Lek. But he did pause with a self-pleasing sneer to order Belongo, "Tug your lobe."

Belongo obeyed sluggishly and slowly blinking eyes that crossed dizzyingly as though nearly losing his own balance.

The boy nodded with satisfaction and a hissy snigger.

"Come, Dance-floor," he said the Lek.

Without further delays, he took Lek to the mess hall of the Paradigm's Haven. Lek was pleased to overhear that no one else had quite taken lunch yet either, including the non-Ferengi on board. Lek's plan B was still fairly good, and no Keeoopii was blinding his quick wit. While waiting for his turn at the replicator he had ample time with no one looking at him to place a gift under the tray of the two stage heroes Lek knew were very soon about to be given their limelight at Meegs' command.

"Quark is already here," he muttered to Belongo between bites as they sat down.

He offered nothing to Belongo, and Belongo did not complain even with his eyes.

"Truly the timing couldn't be better," Lek added.

Belongo winced, resisting now the urge to press, but Lek only shrugged and guzzled down some well-deserved synthale.

#

Before Meegs could set up his stupid, idiotic, brilliant plan he had to be stopped.

All of the Alliance was at stake. All of the known civilized universe could possibly feel the repercussions of this. Although Quark knew that his single whimper would not literally mean the end of his home planet, he prayed with all his might that something could be done. Anything. Only he did not have the strength for what seemed to be inevitable.

Quark was bound by energy bonds that held him in place, invisible but warm from the table beneath him which glowed slightly round him, but he could certainly hear its confining hum, constantly confining his muscle movements without harming the muscular movement of his organs, which were all uselessly on adrenaline mode. His arms and legs were held apart from his body. His fingers and toes were all he could move of them, and only his face could contort completely at will. He could only move his head with the most intense effort, and even then it was hardly worth it as he could not really turn to see very far from his main focus of vision.

"Ah!" said Meegs to his audience meanwhile; they were more invisible still as they could not heard, but the sound of the transmitter was on full blast and thus was sending out his broadcast to somewhere. "The power of the Keeoopii is upon all of Ferenginar."

His acting was atrocious. Quark almost moaned for than alone, but quickly stopped himself again. He barely dared to breathe as Meegs came to hover over Quark's prone body. The little monster patted Quark's chest quite purposely demeaning as he sneered at him. He then began talking as though on stage to an elite audience as he reiterated the contract between him and Quark and made him sign his thumbprint to seal it. Quark had no coordination with his limbs to stop Meegs' action of taking his hand of forcing his thumb into the screen.

"Just get on with this circus," Quark told him harshly through his teeth as he bristled from ears to toes.

"I will! People have to know why you're here!"

"It's a trick!" cried Bennar.

"It's a trap!" Sharzee screamed right in time. "Help us!"

"They can't hear us through the barrier," remarked Nog between his own teeth. He was bristling more than Quark. "They would have thought of that already. Our voices are filtered out."

"Now," said Meegs far more seriously and ignoring his other prisoners as though to prove Nog's point. "Let's start by making this more challenging. Dr. Zof. Begin drawing out the pyrocyte. Right now."

"Won't that kill me?" Quark asked; the courage in his voice was failing. He could not help the trembling now, and his voice came out more like a squeak.

"Not all of it," said Meegs tapping Quark's chest again, and his sneer was so broad that he seemed liable to burst his cheeks like balloons.

As he patted, his hand moved for the Alliance insignia at Quark's throat. He removed it and examined it before tossing it aside tinkling somewhere behind some machinery. Then he moved for Quark's ears, stroking them.

Quark bit his tongue again from letting out a cry, and the physical pain had not even started yet.

The soothing feeling it gave Quark like scratching behind the ears of a dog only sickened him more, but he could not really get out of Meegs' grasp, but Quark said nothing. He made no sound, except the bubbling rage that surely was loud enough for even the transmition receiver to pick up. Meegs brought his head level with his while still massaging tenderly but most forcefully and with more skill than a dabo girl.

Meegs hissed in mock confidentiality, "Just enough pyrocyte drained to equal the poison that the lily pad seeps from the hot blood spilling on it after enough gree worms have gathered."

Briefly he removed his hands. Then with one, he wrenched on Quark's ear in just the right spot that Quark nearly did lose it. Squeezing his eyes shut, he opened his mouth, but held in all sound with his tongue stuffing the back of his throat. When Meegs let him go this time, the throbbing pulsed. Quark breathed heavily, but his voice-box was silenced just barely.

He was not going to make it through this.

How could he?

Not unless the Dayitela truly did take control of the situation for him.

Did he believe it? Did he truly?

In his old beliefs a man was expected to work for himself even if allowed to ask for some little assistance along the Great River, and Quark had ever respected that, but he could see even now, or especially now, perhaps, that the trust of the Hidden Profiters was something that could only be achieved by not expecting strength from himself. In fact, it was the very opposite. He had known this from the beginning, but he had not truly felt it.

Sharzee had tried to tell him. The tales of old could be lies to sell the old Hidden Profiter beliefs, but at this moment, Quark had to believe that they were true. That they could save their friends and family by going through with this, and at the same time using their pain more profitably than a wisest businessman with his latinum, but only if the Dayitela took control. Quark had no strength left. He wanted to cry out so badly that he could feel tears of frustration leaking out the corners of his eyes with the pressure within him of anger, fear, and agony, and this creature that had once been a Ferengi like himself was now a Keeoopii, an emotion-eating leach sucking him for all he was worth more than the machine sucking his pyrocyte.

Swallowing hard he relinquished himself the more; though not without a prayer that the River would bring a rescuer. What Quark would not give to have Odo come bursting in through the massive doors on the far side of this mad-scientist's chamber! Even Sisko would have been a treasured sight.

Queasiness filled him to bursting, and like any natural reaction to such internal bodily pressure, he felt his recently consumed breakfast come to the surface. He tried to fight it. After all, he could not lean his head far enough to keep it from getting all over him if it escaped his throat.

Meegs was shifting him, pushing on his stomach as though trying to make it happen.

"Not so tough are you," said Meegs; though his words sounded faint and quite meaningless. "Even your brother could hold in his nausea when they drained his."

Quark's anger was doused more than resurfaced. Fire gave way to steam, and he could hold it in no longer.

It was all over himself. Meegs' laughter was more revolting than the hot, partly-digested grub. Sharzee's tears were like the mournful cry of some lonely creature over the sea. The shouts of his nephew and of Bennar were even more distant.

As his stomach settled but his strength was still waning, he calmly closed his eyes, and relented to it all once again. He took a purposeful deep breath, ignoring Meegs, ignoring all. He breathed in slowly a few times more. He simply breathed as weakness and nausea swept through him like waves on a sea, and he on a raft floating above its stomach-churning motion, but he heard nothing more.

He felt if he heard anything it was the sound of rain…

Rain?

It was soothing, welcoming, beautiful… like music drawing him home…

The feeling of dizziness and coldness crept like prickles now just like a few hordes of some creepy-crawly or other. No, no, more like droplets of rain. Little stinging prickles of rain. It was possible he was losing his senses, but that fear too passed, and he let that go too.

He found himself murmuring as calmly as a gentle rain, "*Ej lat gren…"

#

"I'm hardly hungry, Coulter," said one Human to the other.

The broadcast echoed on several screens in the room as Coulter lifted the tray cover.

"Mmph," he muttered, showing in contrast that he was hungry even if his partner was not. It could have only been his own reaction to the tension, but that was about all he could mutter before the ghostly shriek.

At least it sounded like that to a Ferengi. To the Human and his companion it only sounded like a soft hiss of steam, but the mist was quick and deadly.

It was seconds before the small chamber was filled with it. Though Coulter jumped to try to throw the tube nestled sweetly in the rice dish out of the doors, it was too late. Keeoopii or Human, the knowledge of what was happening did not prepare either body enough time to get the door opened.

Even if they had, it would only have saved the trouble for those on the other side of the door. It opened as soon as their bodies struck the floor.

The first figure, Lek, holding a breather mask to his face flew across the room to the consol and vented the air, his plain but loose coat like the swoop of wing. Belongo, less gracefully but certainly quickly, dove in after him almost losing his own mask as he nearly tripped over a gangly Human leg.

"Mmmmk!" came his muffled cry as he steadied himself.

Lek tried not to roll his eyes as the fans turned on and sucked the gas out.

It had only been the slightest portion of gas but so wonderfully potent. As soon as the computer showed breathable levels again, he threw the mask off. Only hesitantly did Belongo copy him, cowering a little in his stance and rubbing his wrists together.

"How long until they wake up?" whispered Belongo rather somberly. "I hope the Keeoopii are unconscious too."

"Oh, hours and hours," Lek remarked; he did not feel it worth observing the second comment.

Belongo stared briefly at one of the sleeping forms studying his Human face and features a moment.

"But how come it won't be detected, Lek?" asked Belongo returning to the expert. "The gas, I mean. It's such old form that every ship must be equipped to sense it by now."

"Yes, it's very old," said Lek surveying the computers. "So old it's obsolete by even the lowest marauder standards. Like a lot of my weapons. That's why I use them."

"Oh," Belongo said, but absently as he looked up at one screens showing Meegs' broadcast.

It was all too real to Belongo, Lek knew. Belongo had known about all this far longer than Lek had. It was like seeing a nightmare come to life, he was sure, but they had no time for sentiment. Non-sentiment was really the only thing on their side.

"Help me find out where they are," said Lek.

Hastily Belongo nodded and hurriedly to the opposite consol trying desperately to discover Meegs' location with the help of Lek's security breakers, but he looked again over his shoulder at the broadcast. After a moment, despite himself, Lek found himself doing the same.

#

"What?" chuckled Meegs turning to Quark's. "Was that a complaint?"

"I think he said—" Dr. Zof started to say.

"Ej lat gren…" said Quark again, quietly, tiredly, but steadily.

"Lower the table," said Meegs with a huff. "He's just praying."

"Why?" asked Zof uneasily.

"What do you mean, 'why'? Because he's a Hidden Profiter," said Meegs.

"No, I mean, why lower the table?"

"So I can more easily kick him in the face," retorted Meegs.

Most uneasily Zof obeyed.

"And release his body. He's no threat now."

Zof obeyed this also looking more than a toad than before.

Then with a crazed grin, Meegs kicked just as he said he would, right in Quark's face. Instantly Quark recoiled with a gasp, and his face revealed an expression of contorted pain, but he did not make a sound aside from a few extra breaths.

He said again, "*Eja lat Grena…"

"He's already out of it, Meegs," said Zof hunching unhappily and gulping hard as though at the first stages of morphing into a toad. "You might as well release him with the others or put him out of his misery."

"He's just being stubborn! I knew he would be hard, but I never thought like this!" said Meegs grinning, but behind his grin his eyes shone like daggers.

ej lat gren: (spoken in Home Ferengi) I go to you/I'm sending myself to you/I gift myself to you, spoken out of home-love.

eja lat grena: spoken in true binding Salable Ferengi so that "I gift myself to you" becomes a serious contract or the Ferengi version of a vow.

...

Extra note: "Ej/Eja" originally was "Eez" in what is called Pre-Alliance Ferengi, now not used at all, but before Salable and Home forms of the language Ferengi began changing some "z^'s" to "je's"