Corsi strode into the dissonant cacophony that was Quark’s Bar both anticipating and dreading what she had to do. It looked just like she remembered it: bar full of people of many different species, dabo tables in full spin, drinks and food free-flowing—for a reasonable price, of course. The enormous yellow and orange Cardassian glasswork that she’d learned had always stood in the rear of the bar still glowed, lending its odd shading to the various complexions that filled the bar.

The crowd was just what she wanted. There was no way Quark would risk making a scene in front of so many customers. She’d never actually interrogated an ambassador before, but she had interrogated Ferengi. Getting the slippery businessmen to divulge anything they didn’t want to without offering monetary gain was usually just as difficult as it sounded.

No sooner was she through the door than a tall, lithe Orion female almost clothed in a diaphanous white dress whose hem barely passed her hips greeted her. An aroma of cinnamon followed, strong enough to plow its way through the general smell of the mass of people, as well as their respective dinners and drinks. Her flaming red hair was pulled up on her head, ornately braided strands dangling around her slender green neck. “Welcome to Quark’s,” she said, her voice perfectly balanced between loud enough to be heard over the gambling patrons and not loud enough to be yelling.

“Hello, Treir,” Corsi said, matching her for volume. Judging by the woman’s reaction, she hadn’t expected the newcomer to know who she was. Corsi smiled. “One Hundred Ninety-fourth Rule of Acquisition. It’s always good business to know your customers before they walk in the door.”

The Orion frowned. “Let me guess. You’re here to see Quark.”

“Got it in one. If the ambassador isn’t available, let him know he’s interfering in a Starfleet investigation. His government might not like that too much.”

Was that a snort of derision, or did one of the dabo tables give out? “That would require the ambassador liking his government. I take it you haven’t heard—”

“About the problems he’s had with the Grand Nagus? Or about the fact that the Grand Nagus’s first clerk owes him a favor? Or are you talking about the fake Grisellan icons?”

One red eyebrow rose. “You’re well-informed,” she said, having the decency to sound surprised.

“Just knowing my customer.”

Before Treir could say another word, the nearly slavering Ferengi ambassador appeared behind her. “Welcome to Quark’s,” he said, the tone in his voice far more of a “Can I show you my collection of Risean art?” than a real welcome. “It’s always nice to have our Starfleet friends pay us a visit. Treir, has our guest asked for anything to drink?”

“No,” the Orion said.

“Well, the couple at table three have. Could you take the order to them?”

Treir glared at the Ferengi before walking off.

“I’m here on business, Ambassador,” Corsi said as she pulled Caitano’s altered padd out of her shoulder bag. “Does this look familiar?”

The Ferengi’s oversized lobes perked. “Business, you say? Well…”

She didn’t like the way his voice had trailed off. “Look, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the long, obnoxious, diplomatic red-tape way. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got two dead bodies on my ship because of this thing.”

Quark turned a shade of green that Corsi couldn’t recall ever seeing in nature. “Two dead bodies?” he asked, his eyes widening.

Corsi forced herself not to smile. Quark’s reputation preceded him by several parsecs, and he knew it. Fortunately, she knew that he knew it. If Ro Laren was right, the fact that Quark essentially acted as a fence in the trade of an illegal weapon would be enough to throw diplomatic relations between Ferenginar and the Federation into a tizzy. Add the deaths of two Federation citizens as a result of that trade, and Corsi didn’t even want to think of the kind of problems Federation President Zite would give Grand Nagus Rom. Diplomatic immunity only extended so far.

Still, trafficking in weapons was something that Quark should have known better than to attempt. He already had one charge on his record, and Corsi figured there were probably far more instances that never made it to the filing stage.

A glimmer of dread seeped into the Ferengi’s features. Corsi didn’t have to turn around to figure out who must have been standing behind her. Everything was going precisely as they’d planned. “How are we doing, Quark?” The congeniality in Captain Kira’s voice sounded forced. “I trust you’re not giving our guest any trouble?”

“Captain,” Quark said, his smooth tone firmly in place and accompanied by what Corsi suspected was an all-too-usual This isn’t what you think it is grin. “Of course not. As a representative of the Ferengi government, it would be—”

“Keep your lies consistent. Rule of Acquisition Number Sixty,” Corsi said, raising one blond eyebrow. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Ferengi ambassador.”

“You know the Rules?” Kira asked, stepping up beside her. The Bajoran had her arms crossed over her chest, and her chin-length red hair blended with the command-track red on the neck of her uniform.

“It’s a hobby,” Corsi said with a shrug. “The ambassador was about to tell me where he obtained this particular piece of technology that he sold to one of my staff.”

“That’s a padd,” Kira said, her voice flat. “Quark, what are you doing selling Federation technology?”

The Ferengi pointed one finger at them. “Ah, but that’s a specially-modified reader, Captain, enhanced to allow all of the nuances and sensory input from a very special book to be experienced. It’s extremely popular in the Gamma Quadrant. Aren’t the modifications the property of the person who designed them?”

Corsi tried to resist the urge to slug him. Instead, she held out her clenched fist and opened it over the bar, showing him the sensors and emitters Gomez had removed from the device. “You want to give the designer of this thing back his property, then? You’re telling me that you knew this thing had been modified; yet you sold it anyway? Did you bother to check to see what these little trinkets do? They’re specifically designed to kill people.” She took great pains to enunciate the last two words as though she were talking to a two-year-old. “We tested it. Whoever designed this thing doesn’t care what species you are. It adjusts itself for every known species. You’re playing right into the hands of whoever let this thing loose.”

She could have sworn a bead of sweat formed on the Ferengi’s oversized forehead. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a smile on Captain Kira’s features.

Ro had mentioned that there was a certain amount of history between the captain and the bartender-turned-ambassador, but from the look on Kira’s face, “history” didn’t seem to quite cover it. She was enjoying watching Quark squirm. “Where’d it come from, Quark?” Kira asked. “Don’t make me have to start an interstellar incident. You linked this thing to the station’s computers. Nog found nanites in the computer core. That makes it a danger to the station.”

Corsi could recognize a cue when she heard one. “A representative of the Ferengi government fencing weapons disguised as Federation technology? You’re in big trouble, Quark. Tell us who sold it to you, and maybe we’ll believe you didn’t know what you were doing when you resold it.”

The Ferengi’s eyes bounced back and forth between her and Kira. “I—I—I want to talk to Ro,” he said, furtively wringing his hands.

Corsi somehow managed not to roll her eyes. Of course he does.

Kira, however, took a step forward. In a tone that broached no question, she said, “Ro can’t help you on this one, Quark. Any investigation she does will be immediately suspect. She couldn’t possibly clear you without being accused of conspiracy. Two people have died because of what you sold. How many more, Quark?”

The Ferengi composed himself, staring her in the eyes. “Those people didn’t die from reading a book.”

“I’ve got a chief medical officer who would disagree with you on that,” Corsi said. “Where’d it come from?”

Quark’s eyes anxiously shot back and forth between Corsi and Kira.

“Quark…. Ambassador,” Corsi began, “tell us where it came from, and the report the Federation Council reads will tell them you didn’t know what you were doing when you sold it.” She wasn’t sure if she could even make such a deal, but if it got the Ferengi to cooperate, he never needed to know that. “You can tell me who it is, or we can go through your records and find out ourselves.”

After a long moment in which Corsi began to believe he might make them get a warrant, Quark said, “It was a Wadi. That trader that came through here a couple of weeks ago. Tellow. He’s the one that sold it to me.”

Corsi smiled. Well, confirms the paper trail. Ro’s suspicion that this one wasn’t forged was right.

“They went back through the wormhole,” Kira said. “We should have their flight plan on file.”

“Wouldn’t happen to have a DNA sample, would you?” Corsi asked.

“I’ll check with Dr. Bashir. If we have anything, it’s yours.”