3

Sometimes the only thing more dangerous than a question is an answer.

—RULE OF ACQUISITION #208

Quark had put on his best suit on the day of the meeting. This was, after all, the first big function the bar had as an embassy, and he wanted to make sure that everything turned out right. Besides, Chek had provided a guest list, and some of the most successful Ferengi in the alliance were on it. Like the Twenty-Second Rule says, a wise man can hear profit in the wind, and the wind is blowing mighty loudly here.

One thing he noticed was that none of them were in any way involved with politics—nobody affiliated with the Economic Congress of Advisors or with the FCA. These were all private businessmen.

Quark had been right about something else: no females on the list.

On the day of the meeting, he closed the bar early—much to Morn’s annoyance; the Lurian complained for the better part of five minutes at a very loud volume when Quark announced the bar’s closing, but Quark had long since learned to tune Morn out—but kept the staff on call. For the duration of the meeting, they were to stay in either the back room or their quarters until the meeting was over and Chek and his friends had free rein of the bar, games, and holosuites.

Before leaving, Broik and Frool had set up an entire buffet table full of foods from all over the quadrant, the centerpiece of which was a huge bowl of the finest tube grubs, bred by the Depruu Grub Emporium. Quark had scooped a handful into his mouth before taking his seat at the long table that had been set up for him, Chek, and the nine businessmen Chek had invited along.

“Ferenginar,” Chek said, looking at each Ferengi seated at the table in turn, “is in trouble. True, the general economic indicators seem to be favorable, and the ship of finance is sailing smoothly—but I fear that that is a temporary state of affairs, and the future will be devastating. Our entire way of life is coming apart at the seams, and once the novelty of these new reforms wears off, we will find ourselves in financial ruin.”

Quark found he couldn’t argue with anything Chek was saying. He’d argued against Zek’s reforms back when they were just Mother’s arguments with Father at the dinner table. Even when circumstances forced him to argue in favor of the reforms in order to keep Brunt away from the nagushood—a memory that gave Quark nightmares for more than one reason—Quark had thought the ideas ludicrous.

Chek went on. “We live our lives by the Rules of Acquisition, yet the Ninety-Fourth Rule has apparently been declared in abeyance. Females are roaming the streets, wearing clothes, and earning profit.”

Several of the men around the table made noises of disgust and annoyance.

“And where are those profits coming from? Us, that’s who. Males who’ve worked all our lives to gain material wealth. And now these females come out of nowhere and—with the help of a craven government—are giving them windfalls.”

At that, Quark had to speak up. ” ‘Giving’? I can’t believe that the Grand Nagus—”

“You yourself, Ambassador, have called the Grand Nagus an idiot.”

Laughing, Quark said, “True, but he is my younger brother. Is there anyone in this room who hasn’t said that about his sibling?”

“Be that as it may,” Chek said even as several Ferengi nodded in affirmation of Quark’s question, “these are terrible times. My own business has suffered tremendously. Chek Pharmaceuticals’ biggest profits have always come from bronchial remedies, salves for runny noses, coughs, and headaches. Now that women are wearing clothes, they’re staying warmer and drier and they’re not getting sick! Sales of my remedies plummeted this past year. And how am I to recoup it?”

A younger Ferengi named Zoid said, “Surely that isn’t our problem, Chek. I made more profits this year than I have in any year since I left home five years ago—am I part of this vast conspiracy to take your wealth from you?”

“That is not what I—”

Zoid kept going. “And why is your great pharmaceutical empire so reliant on this one group of items? Have you focused so much on the Ninety-Fourth Rule that you’ve forgotten the Ninety-Fifth?”

Expand or die, Quark thought instinctively.

“I have forgotten nothing!” Chek slammed a hand on the table.

Another businessman, Vol, spoke up. “Where is Chek supposed to expand to? All the growth industries are run by females. Postwar relief efforts—women’s clothing manufacture—ground transportation. All the newest opportunities have been scarfed up by females.”

Quark frowned. “How is ground transportation a growth industry?”

“With females able to move about freely outside the home—” Vol started.

“—the need for ground transport increases, of course,” Quark said with a nod. He had lived on this station for so long that the realities of planet-based living had moved to the back of his head.

“So what?” Zoid asked. “The Ninth Rule, gentlemen—the opportunity was there, and they had the instincts to point them to it, and they got profit. It’s our way.”

“Yes,” Chek said, again slamming his hand on the table, “our way. Not their way.”

“Are they not Ferengi?”

“They’re females.”

Zoid smiled. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Vol added, “And they’re being catered to by the Grand Nagus. They get all the choicest government contracts—worse, they’re providing good services.” Vol’s face scrunched up in disgust as he said it. “I had several lucrative contracts in Kope to provide housing. When the latest development was to go up, the nagus gave it to a female-run company—who provided adequate housing. No leaks! No chance of going back to them to fix the flaws and double charge! It’s madness!”

Quark shook his head. Short-term, the strategy might have made sense, but providing inferior materials led to quicker replacements and faster profits. That was the most basic commerce that even Ferengi children knew. This lack of long-term thinking may ruin Ferenginar.

Chek’s words mirrored Quark’s thoughts. “We’re heading for economic disaster. And it’s not just those of us in this room who see it.”

“All of us in this room don’t entirely see it, either, Chek,” Zoid said. “My profits are doing just fine. I’ve raised my servants’ wages, given them more benefits, and you know what? They’re more efficient. The quality of the cook’s food has improved tremendously, the butler no longer has to be reminded half a dozen times to clean the floors, and my chauffeur actually pilots the aircar cautiously instead of acting like he’s at a shuttlepod race.”

“He’s got a point,” another one said. “Productivity in my factory’s gone up since I improved working conditions.”

“I repeat,” Chek said through clenched teeth, “this is temporary. Once the dust settles, and these reforms stop being reforms and start being the everday reality of life, the servants will go back to being indolent and the factory workers will go back to being inefficient, only now it will cost more to keep them.”

An older Ferengi with wrinkled lobes said in a feeble voice, “You haven’t even mentioned the moral crisis.”

Quark frowned. “What moral crisis?”

“The institution of marriage is being destroyed before our very ears,” the feeble-voiced old man said. “The Grand Nagus has declared all prenuptial Waivers of Property and Profit null and void. Worse, the females are hiring”—the old man shivered—”lawyers to renegotiate their marriage contracts.”

“Lawyers?” Quark was revolted at the very notion. “First taxes, now lawyers?”

Chek shook his head. “It’s a shame, isn’t it? The glory of Ferenginar brought down to this insanity. The Blessed Exchequer is probably laughing at us from the Divine Treasury.” Slamming his hand down a third time, he said, “We must end this insanity, now!”

Quark winced. “Would you mind not doing that so much? You’ll dent the table.”

Bowing his head slightly, Chek also lowered his volume. “My apologies, Ambassador, but my passion on the subject has overwhelmed my better judgment. You see why I felt the need to call this meeting—and why I had to call it here. The Grand Nagus needs to be stopped, and we are the best people to do it. None of us here is connected to the FCA or to the Economic Congress—we have no ties to the nagus, and therefore cannot be influenced by him, or the advisors who whisper heresy in his ears.”

“Mother,” Quark muttered.

“Yes, as well as the son of Zek.”

Quark’s head shot up at that. “What, Krax?”

Vol said, “He is now the Grand Nagus’s first clerk.”

I wonder what that’s all about, Quark wondered.

“I also asked you here, Ambassador,” Chek said, “because you have spoken out openly against these reforms. Indeed, your speech upon Zek’s conferral of power onto your brother has become legendary in certain circles.”

Legendary? I like the sound of that. Quark smiled. “Has it now?”

“Yes, it has. And that is why I wanted you here. No one is better suited to speak out against the Grand Nagus and lead our charge against him than you.”

The smile fell from Quark’s face. “Lead our charge?”

“Don’t you wish to stop these foul ‘reforms’?” Vol asked.

“It’s his brother,” Zoid said.

” ‘Never allow family to stand in the way of opportunity.’ ” Vol quoted the Sixth Rule with a sneer.

Quark, however, didn’t know what to think. He was no revolutionary, and the last thing he wanted to do was take on the Ferengi government, especially one embodied by his brother and mother. All he wanted to do was make as much money as possible for himself.

Then he thought of another Rule: “Wives serve, brothers inherit.” If Rom was brought down, Quark would be the obvious choice to succeed him. Twice, Quark had believed himself to be the next Grand Nagus, only to have it taken from him. Do I want to try for three?

He looked at Chek. “How do you plan to bring about this grand revolution?”

“We have ways,” Chek said with annoying evasiveness. “In fact, the nagus himself has helped us with that foolish congress of his….”

“Actually, that congress was Zek’s insane idea,” the old Ferengi said.

Chek made a dismissive gesture. “Either way, we have our methods. Are you with us, Ambassador?”

Quark weighed his desire to return Ferenginar to the values that made it great against his lack of desire to fight his brother—who had, after all, saved his livelihood by making the bar an embassy. All that he weighed against the fact that he hadn’t been home in over three years, and would happily allow that figure to quadruple itself a dozen times over.

He made his decision by not making one at all. “Gentlemen, you wish me to buy into your scheme to bring down my brother’s government, and all I can do in return is quote Rule of Acquisition Number Two-Eighteen: ‘Always know what you’re buying.’ I only have your word for what’s happening on Ferenginar, and,” he added with a look at Zoid, “you don’t even all agree on that. I prefer to see things for myself. But, since Ferenginar is so distant—”

“Then it’s settled,” Chek said, once again slamming his hand. As soon as he did so, he at least had the good grace to look apologetic. “Sorry. In any case, you must come to Ferenginar.”

“What?” That wasn’t what Quark had in mind. “I can’t go to Ferenginar.”

“Nonsense. Your brother’s wife is about to give birth. You must be present for the birth of your nephew.”

“Or niece,” Zoid said. “I have a girl in the raffle.”

“Raffle?” Quark asked, confused.

Vol said, “The Grand Nagus is holding a raffle. The prize is ten bars of gold-pressed latinum to whoever guesses the gender, time, and date of birth.”

“Really?” Quark hadn’t given Rom enough credit to have come up with that. Quark himself had made quite a bundle on the similar raffle he had run for the birth of the child born to Captains Sisko and Yates. Must’ve been Mother’s idea.

“So what do you say?” Chek asked.

Again, Quark put off his decision. “I’ll think about it.” He pressed a button under the table that would signal Frool, Broik, Treir, M’Pella, and the rest of the staff to come. “In the meantime, gentlemen, please feel free to eat, drink, and be merry, and to avail yourselves of the dom-jot parlor, the dabo tables, or the holosuites.”

“Ambassador,” Chek said in a low voice, “I need an answer from you.”

“You’ve gotten all the answer you’re going to get tonight, Chek.” He raised his voice. “Enjoy yourself at Quark’s!”

Then he made a beeline for the back room. He had a lot to think about.

Just as he was about to open the door, Frool and Broik walked in. “Quark!” the former said. “You have a message from Ferenginar—it’s the Grand Nagus!”

Quark didn’t understand how Frool could speak of the nagus with such awe in his voice, seeing as how he actually knew Rom, but let it go. Luckily, the two of them were out of earshot of Chek and his cronies. “I’ll take it in the back.”

It took several seconds of standing in front of the viewer in the back room before he activated the connection. What am I supposed to say? “Hi Rom, how’s it going? Me? Oh, everything’s just been peachy since you’ve been here last. Ezri went back to Trill to watch the entire planet fall apart, somebody wiped out a Bajoran village, and, oh yes, I just got finished having a meeting plotting your downfall. How’s by you?”

Taking a deep breath, he activated the viewer.

“Brother! You have to come home to Ferenginar right away!”

Quark opened his mouth and then closed it again. “What?”

“Leeta’s very very sick. You and Nog have to come home!”

“Rom—”

“Don’t you want to be here when your niece or nephew is born?”

Deciding not to bother pointing out that he wasn’t there when Nog was born, so why should he be there for this one, Quark instead said, “I can’t just leave the bar.”

“You’ve left it before.”

Before I didn’t have Treir and her delusions of grandeur, he thought.

Then he thought about it. Chek wants me to go to see how things really are. If I do what he wants, I’ll be in good with the head of the biggest pharmaceuticals company on Ferenginar. Not to mention the other nine—in essence, I’ll be doing them a favor, and it’s one I should be able to cash in some time.

“All right, fine, Rom, I’ll—”

“Great!” Rom’s unfortunately shaped face broke into a huge smile. “I’ll have Krax send you a transport. It’ll be there in two days!” Rom was then distracted by something to his right. “What? Oh, uhh, okay. I have to go, Brother. Bye!”

Rom’s face faded.

And that, Quark thought, was one of our more lucid conversations.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his padd to double-check his schedule. Everything for the next two days was still on—including meeting with the Yridians about the totem icons—and everything after that could be postponed.

The only item he regretted having to postpone was dinner with Ro Laren three days hence. Pity I can’t take her with me. It’d be nice to show her the sights on Ferenginar….

Then Quark got that tingly feeling in his left lobe that he always got when a brilliant idea came to him. Well, why can’t I take her with me?

Humming the Slug-O-Cola jingle happily to himself, he went back to the front to make sure that Chek and his people were having a good time—and to start formulating his sales pitch to Laren.

“So let me get this straight,” Ro said, her hands folded neatly in front of her on what Quark still couldn’t help but think of as Odo’s desk, even though Ro had been security chief for the better part of a year. He tried to remember how long Odo had been on the job before Quark had stopped thinking of it as Thrax’s desk. “You want me to come along as your protection when you go home to Ferenginar?”

“That’s right,” Quark said, sitting in a guest chair. “It’s no different from what you did for me on Malic’s ship.”

“I wasn’t there to protect you, Quark, I was there to try to get information on the Orion Syndicate.”

“Which you got, as I recall.”

Ro nodded. “Yeah, Starfleet Intelligence has been having a field day with that padd I stole. But I’m still not really seeing the connection between that and this.”

“I’m an ambassador now. I’m—oh, what’s the human term?—a VIC!”

“That’s VIP—which in your case, stands for very important pain in the ass.”

“Laren—”

“Quark, look, I’ve got a lot of work to do. If you want, we can push up our dinner to tomorrow night before you leave, but—”

Realizing that the diplomatic-duty angle wasn’t working, Quark went for the security ploy. “I’m afraid for my life, Laren!”

Ro looked at him as if he had grown an additional limb. “What?”

“My idiot brother has hired Krax to be his first clerk.”

Nodding, Ro said, “Krax being the former Grand Nagus’s son.”

Quark blinked. “Uh, right. How’d you know that?”

“I’m in charge of station security, Quark, it’s my business to know about potential security risks, and the son of a former head of state whose one and only visit to the station included attempted murder of one of the station’s residents is something it’s my job to remember.”

“Oh.” Quark thought a moment, then decided he didn’t buy this for a minute. “Who’s Retaya?”

Ro frowned. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“What about Chu’lak?”

“That does ring a bell—I think he was a Starfleet officer, went on a killing spree—Andorian, I think.”

“Vulcan, actually. How about Fallit Kot?”

“An old business partner of yours who tried to kill you—an instinct I can often get behind. Now, if you’re done—”

Breaking into a wide grin, Quark said, “Now I find this fascinating. You barely remember a serial murderer who was captured over a year ago. You don’t remember an assassin who came here to kill Garak over five years ago—yet you remember, with perfect detail, two people who tried to kill me, one of them eight years ago.”

Ro unfolded her hands and put them palms-down on the desk. “Quark, just to warn you, I’m about to hit you really really hard on the nose.”

A hand brushing across his lobe, Quark laughed. “I didn’t know you were into the rough stuff, Laren.”

Now she pointed at him. “Don’t get cute with me, Quark, I—” She cut herself off. “Fine, I have checked more thoroughly on people who might hurt you. I worry about you—you’re a big security risk with all the enemies you’ve managed to make over the years.”

“Kira’s made a lot of enemies, too—I bet you don’t have all of them memorized.”

Ro smiled. “I don’t need to—I trust Captain Kira to be able to handle herself. You, on the other hand, I expect to do a dandy job of hiding under the table.”

” ‘He who dives under the table today lives to profit tomorrow.’ “

“Rule of Acquisition Number Twenty.”

“I love a woman who knows the Rules.”

Looking up at the ceiling, Ro said, “Spare me the attempt at foreplay, Quark.”

Leaning forward in his chair, putting one hand on the table, Quark said, “All right, fine, I’ll go straight to the pleading. You just said it yourself—I have enemies. At least one of them is on Ferenginar. In fact, more than one. Someone else who came to the station to have me killed is a former liquidator named Brunt, and he’s on my brother’s Economic Congress of Advisors. For that matter, last I heard, my cousin Gaila went back to Ferenginar, and you’ve seen firsthand how much he hates me.”

Folding her arms, Ro stared at a spot on the floor just to Quark’s left. Quark sat in silence, removing his hand from the table, and letting her think.

After several seconds, she looked up. “All right. I think I can sell it to Kira this way. Besides,” she added with her big smile, “I’ve always wanted to see Ferenginar.”

“Really?” That revelation surprised Quark. “Most non-Ferengi hate the place.”

Ro shrugged. “I’d like to make that judgment for myself. Besides, if it’s where you came from, it can’t be all bad.”

“Well, I did move away from there as soon as I could,” Quark said.

“I assumed you were following the Seventy-Fifth Rule.”

Home is where the heart is, but the stars are made of latinum, Quark thought. I really love a woman who knows the Rules. “To an extent, yes, but—well, never mind, you don’t need to know my tiresome family history.”

At that, Ro laughed. “Quark, your mother was involved with the Grand Nagus. Most of your family history is public record.”

“Don’t remind me,” Quark said emphatically. “All right, then. I’ll be able to show you all the sights—the Tower of Commerce, the Museum of Plundered Art, the Great Marketplace. You’ll love it!” He stood up from the chair. “The transport should be here at 1900 to—”

“I know, Quark—that Krax person called ahead to reserve a docking port already.”

“Oh.” Quark gave her a look. “Is that the real reason why you knew Krax’s information off the top of your head?”

“Actually, I remembered who he was when he called—but I did look up his record.”

Quark shook his head and moved toward the door. What a woman.

“Hey, Quark?”

He stopped and turned around.

“You’re not really worried about getting hurt. You just wanted me to come with you, didn’t you?”

That caught Quark off-guard. “Well, uh—”

“Why didn’t you just ask me? Maybe added an emotional appeal in that sincere voice that you’ve spent so many years honing to almost-realistic levels in order to convince me that you were serious?”

Quark shook his head. You’d think I’d have learned not to underestimate her by now. “I wasn’t sure you’d buy it.” Then he added with a grin, “And I didn’t need it. See, that was Plan C, and you bought Plan B.”

Chuckling, Ro said, “Well, it wouldn’t have worked anyhow. The only way I can go is officially. If I just went with you for fun, I’d have to take leave time.”

“So? Doesn’t Starfleet lavish you officers with tons of unnecessary vacation time? That’s what Nog’s using.”

“Sort of—you have to accumulate it. Since I’ve only been back in Starfleet for about three and a half seconds, I haven’t really accrued any yet.”

Smirking, Quark said, “Well then it’s a good thing I gave you a good excuse to sell Kira on.”

“I just hope it works.”

Quark wasn’t worried. Ro had a streak of Ferengi-like ruthlessness in her—besides, she’d earned Kira’s trust, which was no easy feat. “You’ll pull it off—and if you need help, I have some excellent bribery suggestions.”

Ro hit the button that opened the security-office door. “Get out of my sight, Quark.”

“Whatever you say.”

This time he made it halfway through the threshold before she stopped him again. It didn’t surprise him—he’d been on this station for a decade and a half, under the control of the Cardassians, the Bajorans, the Dominion, and the Federation, and the one constant had been that conversations in this office took forever to end. “Oh, Quark?”

“Yes?”

“I was talking with Treir before. She was telling me about your customers last night. Had some interesting things to say about the way the wind is blowing on Ferenginar these days.”

Nervously, Quark said, “Really?”

“Yeah. Just thought you’d want to know why Plan B worked.”

Wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his jacket, Quark said, “Okay. Thanks.”

The first thing Nog did when he came off-shift was go to Captain Kira’s office and officially request leave time to go to Ferenginar to be there for the birth of his stepsibling. When Kira expressed surprise that he didn’t know the gender of the child, Nog explained the raffle, then tried to sell a chance to the captain, who politely declined. Father had promised to let Nog keep ten percent of any chances he sold, but only if he sold one strip’s worth—that was a hundred chances. So far, he’d sold only a dozen, and half of those were to Commander Vaughn.

Once that was taken care of, he went to the bar to double-check with Uncle Quark to make sure all was well. That was when he found out that Lieutenant Ro would be accompanying them.

After that, he made a mad dash to the docking ring to catch a transport to Bajor—he had a dinner date that he had no intention of missing, especially now that he was going to be off-station for an indeterminate period.

Tonight, Nog was finally going to meet Korena, a Bajoran artist who had, to everyone’s surprise, caught the heart of one Jake Sisko. Nog had barely had time to register that his best friend even had a girlfriend before the announcement came from Bajor that they’d gotten married.

Nog’s irritation at Jake’s going off and getting married without Nog even having the chance to meet her was ameliorated somewhat by Jake’s offer of dinner at Bajor’s finest restaurant—Fallert’s, in Dahkur Province. Fallert’s was located in the midst of a beautiful garden right on the coast. A salty breeze blew in from the ocean as Nog materialized in the transporter station that had beamed him from the spaceport. To his surprise, the station was of Cardassian design, though it had been a Federation transporter that brought him here.

The sun was just starting to set, painting the sky in a variety of colors that nearly stunned Nog into insensibility.

“Nog, your mouth is hanging open.”

Forcing his gaze away from the incandescent sky, he turned to look at the source of the voice: Jake Sisko. As appallingly tall as ever, the human had his arm around the shoulder of a Bajoran female of much more reasonable height, though she was still taller than Nog.

Whatever concerns Nog might have had regarding his friend’s whirlwind courtship abated at the look on Jake’s face. I haven’t seen him glow like that since we got the captain that baseball card.

“This,” Jake continued, “is Rena.”

Korena smiled. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Nog. Jake’s told me all about you.”

Nog chuckled. “Well, don’t believe a word of it—I’m actually a very nice person.”

They all laughed at that. Korena had a musical laugh. It’s like the sound coins make when you drop them into a safe. He decided not to share that analogy, as non-Ferengi tended not to appreciate its true romanticism.

As the trio approached the front door, Jake said, “I can’t wait to try this place.”

Again, Korena smiled. “It’s wonderful.”

Nog was hard pressed to say whose smile was brighter, Korena’s or her husband’s. Either way, their two smiles could provide all the light needed to keep the restaurant alight once the sun sets. Aloud, he asked her, “You’ve been here before?”

“A few times. I went to school in Dahkur. During the Occupation, this was a Cardassian restaurant. There aren’t any roads leading here—the only way to come here was by transporter, and only Cardassians had free access to transporters. Bajorans who didn’t work here could only come with the permission of a Cardassian.”

Before she could continue, they arrived at the maitre d’s station. “Reservation for three,” Jake said, “in the name of Sisko.”

The female behind the station bowed her head. “Of course. It is our honor to serve the son of the Emissary and his new bride—as well as one of our Starfleet benefactors,” she added with a look at Nog. In his rush to get down here, he hadn’t had the chance to change out of uniform. “Please, come in.”

They were led to a table by the large picture window that looked out over the ocean, providing a spectacular view of the sunset. Three screens rose out of slots in the center of the table and lit up with the day’s menu. Touching an entry resulted in a holographic representation of the meal being projected onto the place setting.

Nog, however, paid little attention to that, as he was, again, mesmerized by the sunset. “It’s beautiful.” At a snicker from Jake, Nog again yanked his gaze away. “Sorry—it’s just that I haven’t seen that many Bajoran sunsets. On Ferenginar, sunset just means the sky goes from light gray to dark gray, and on the station, there are no sunsets.”

“That must’ve been terrible.” Korena sounded sincere and empathetic, which Nog appreciated. “Anyhow, after the withdrawal, one of the Bajoran cooks took over the place. It’s become one of the hot spots on the planet. I came here once to paint the sunset for my grandfather.”

“Did he like the painting?” Nog asked.

Korena shifted in her seat, and Jake’s face fell.

“He died not too long ago,” Korena said, then added quickly: “You couldn’t have known, Nog, it’s okay. He said he always wanted to see the sun set in Dahkur, and he never got to. So I came here, painted it, and put it up in his house. It’s still there.”

A voice from behind them said, “And one of these days, Rena, I’ll convince you to hang that painting here.”

Nog turned to see a round, jovial Bajoran male.

Once again, Korena favored them with a bright smile. “Nog, Jake, this is Fallert Kon, the owner. Kon, this is Lieutenant Nog from the space station and my husband—”

“Jake Sisko. It is an honor to have you all in my restaurant. I highly recommend the steamed asnor fish. Enjoy your meal.”

With that, he walked off.

Nog shook his head. “Fish—when there are probably hundreds of succulent slugs in that garden outside.”

Korena looked at Nog. “You’re not gonna ask me to chew your food, are you?”

They all laughed once again. “That won’t be necessary,” Nog said.

“You know, he actually asked a girl to do that on a double date once when we were kids?” Jake said.

That quickly led into a round of reminiscing. After Jake was done embarrassing Nog with the story of the double date, Nog told Korena all about the time Jake suggested they put frimja dust in the air vents. Then they both told her about the nascent “Noh-Jay Consortium” that engaged in a few transactions on Bajor.

Pausing only to order, then get appetizers and wine—Korena recommended a particular vintage, which Nog had found to be almost drinkable—they continued to talk of their times together and apart. Korena seemed particularly impressed with the lengths to which the two of them went to acquire a Willie Mays baseball card for Jake’s father on the eve of the Dominion War.

Then Jake talked about being part of the resistance movement on the station while the Dominion occupied it, while Nog was serving on the Defiant.

“I was scared to death that the Dominion would have him executed,” Nog said.

Jake chuckled. “And I was scared to death that he was gonna die in combat without me around to protect him. Let’s face it, Nog, I carried you.”

In mock outrage, Nog said, “What’re you talking about? I carried you, you stunt-eared hoo-mon.”

“Who was the only sane person on the Valiant?”

Nog had to grant him that one. The cadets on that ship had become fanatics—worse, they had become stupid fanatics—and they had temporarily swept Nog up in their dangerous euphoria.

Korena shook her head as she swallowed the last of her salad. “It’s funny—you two really did rub off on each other.”

Nog frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Jake’s the son of a Starfleet captain, and you’re the son of a Ferengi waiter. When the two of you met, which one would you have predicted would wind up in Starfleet and which one would wind up serving on a pirate ship?”

Defensively, Jake said, “The Even Odds was not a pirate ship.”

Leaning toward Korena, Nog said, “Let him have his delusions.”

Nodding, Korena said, “Yeah, it’s probably safer.”

“You two do know that I’m sitting right here?” Jake was trying to maintain the defensive tone, but it was swimming upstream against the laugh that Nog could hear building in the human’s throat.

“From what you told me about what happened on the Even Odds,” Nog said, “Uncle Quark would probably say you’re a better Ferengi than I am now.”

“Well,” Korena said, “you did say I didn’t have to chew your food.”

“Actually, females don’t have to do that on Ferenginar anymore.”

“I know, I was just teasing you.” Before Korena could go on, the main course arrived. Both Jake and Korena had the fish special. Nog, to his surprise, was met with no resistance when he asked about the possibility of sauteed slugs. It pays to show up with the son of a religious figure, he thought, wondering if there was some way to make that into a Rule of Acquisition.

The slugs weren’t anywhere near as succulent as Nog had been hoping for—they were obviously just taken off the ground, not bred for it at all—but the spicy sautee made up for it. It tasted like a thicker version of the Cajun sauce that he’d gotten from Jake’s grandfather on Earth.

After swallowing a few more slugs, Nog spoke in a more serious tone than he’d been using. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you guys about Ferenginar.”

Spearing a piece of fish with his fork, Jake asked, “What about it?”

Nog explained about Father’s summons. “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me. I’ve seen your homeworld, when I was at the Academy.” He chuckled. “I practically lived in your grandfather’s restaurant when I was off-duty. And I was hoping to return the favor.”

Jake and Korena exchanged an awkward glance.

As soon as they did so, Nog cursed himself for an idiot for even asking. “Never mind—I shouldn’t have asked. You two are newlyweds.”

“It’s not that we’re not flattered,” Korena started, “but—”

Nog held up a hand. “No, it’s all right. It was selfish of me to ask. I’m sorry.”

Jake said, “It’s not selfish, Nog, I just—We’re—”

“You don’t have to explain. I shouldn’t have said anything. I guess—” He chuckled again. “I just didn’t want to be stuck alone in a transport with Uncle Quark and Lieutenant Ro for two days.”

At that, Jake frowned. “What’s wrong with Ro? I haven’t really gotten to know her that well, but she seemed okay to me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with her—it’s the way Uncle Quark acts when she’s around.”

“How does he act?”

Nog grinned. “The way you do around her.”

Korena laughed at that, while Jake looked like he was contemplating throwing his side vegetables at Nog’s face. “Hardy har har,” Jake said.

“Besides, I haven’t been home in a long time.” Nog looked up, just realizing how long it had been. “Come to think of it, I haven’t been home since before I signed up for Starfleet Academy. I guess I’m a little nervous about it.”

“Doesn’t your mom still live on Ferenginar?”

Nog nodded as he placed a few slugs in his mouth.

Korena asked, “When was the last time you saw her?”

“When Father and I left Ferenginar. Over fifteen years.”

“Are you gonna see her?” Jake asked.

Letting out a long breath, Nog said, “I’m not sure. I don’t know what to say to her. Leeta’s more my moogie now than my biological mother was. I barely even remember her.”

“You should go see her.” Korena spoke with finality. “You never know when you’ll have your last chance to see family before they’re gone.”

Jake said nothing, but he didn’t have to—Nog could see the words etched on his face. Jake’s trip on the Even Odds was a direct result of his desperate quest to find his father, motivated in part by his inability to say good-bye to him before the Prophets took him away. It all worked out in the end—Captain Sisko had been returned in time for the birth of Jake’s half-sister—but Jake hadn’t known that when he bought a shuttle from Uncle Quark and headed for the wormhole.

“I probably will,” Nog finally said.

Korena nodded. “Good.”

“You know, Nog,” Jake said slowly, “if you really want us to come—”

Recognizing the typically human gesture, Nog shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be all right. Besides, why would you want to leave this sunset behind?”