Chapter Four

QUARK’S BAR STILL SEEMED EMPTY compared with the previous evening. It was dinnertime and the day’s meeting between the Klingons and the Federation had only broken up a little more than an hour before. The bar wouldn’t get crowded until later, well after the dinner hour.

Commander Riker and Lieutenant Dax had left the meeting together and sat at a corner table, talking softly, laughing somewhat louder. Quark had served them his best dinner and wine and then, at Riker’s pointed suggestion, had left them alone.

Two tables of Klingons filled the center of the room and three of Quark’s regulars were at the bar. The noise level was high, but not enough to disturb conversation.

The Caxtonian trader Conpap strode into the bar and went directly to the back table where he sat alone. The night before, Gowron and the others had used the same table. He’d picked it purposefully, knowing that this evening the leader of the Empire might return to it.

“You know,” Quark said, fanning his hand in front of his face as he stood in front of the Caxtonian trader, “that bathing might be an idea you should consider.” Quark stepped back. “There are people eating in here.”

Conpap just growled, then looked up at Quark and said, “Romulan ale. I am in a hurry.”

Quark rolled his eyes and moved away, leaving the Caxtonian trader alone.

Conpap’s gaze darted around the room, noting each person. Only three Starfleet crew were in the room, and he also knew that one of the customers at the bar was a security officer. He studied all of their movements, noting when they looked around and when they looked away.

After a minute Quark returned with his ale, slid it onto the table, and quickly left. Conpap pretended to drink, then placed the glass down. With one hand in his thick coat pocket, he pulled out a small bomb and pressed it firmly against the underside of the table.

It stuck there and no one seemed to notice. His hand moved away from the bomb no larger than the size of the base of his ale glass. He knew it had enough explosive to destroy this table and everyone at it.

He pretended to take another drink, then pushed

the glass to the center of the table and stood. He let one hand slide carefully into his pocket to the bomb’s trigger, holding it like a prized toy. Later, when this table was again full and Gowron was entertaining the Federation people, Conpap would come back to the bar and, from a safe distance, set off the bomb.

And then he would be rich. Very rich.

A foolproof plan.

Riker finished the last bite of his steak and pushed the plate toward the edge of the table. “I think Quark outdid himself this time.” He couldn’t remember a meal that he’d enjoyed as much, both for taste and for company.

Dax smiled. “You didn’t believe me when I told you Quark’s had some of the best food on the Promenade. ” She leaned forward and whispered, “Just don’t ask where he gets his recipes.”

“Not a chance,” he said, wiping his mouth and tossing his napkin onto his empty plate. He sipped his wine, letting the smooth tasteful his mouth and accent the lingering memory of the steak.

“You seem peaceful,” Dax said.

Riker laughed. “Wonderful food and great company makes me relax.”

She raised her glass in a toasting motion. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As it was intended,” he said.

Another sip of wine and he leaned forward. “You think today’s meeting went as poorly as yesterday?”

Dax nodded, finishing the last of her Tautean salad

and pushing the plate aside. “I can’t imagine that anything will-” She broke off her sentence and glanced up at something behind Riker. She had suddenly become very, very serious.

Riker turned around. Behind him Odo stood squarely in the middle of the entrance to Quark’s. Four security personnel flanked him.

All four had their hands on their phasers.

Odo’s gaze was across the bar and looked very intent.

Riker followed the gaze in the direction of a Caxtoman trader who was just moving toward the door. The huge creature in dirty pants and a ragged coat had just stepped away from the large table they had all sat at last night.

The Yridian saw Odo and stopped cold.

Suddenly the huge Yridian looked like a trapped animal. His posture tensed, his eyes went wide. Riker had seen that look more times than he wanted to admit.

The trader glanced one way, then another, obviously looking for a way out. Finally he made up his mind and darted to the left, just as one of the Klingon warriors at the center table pushed back his chair and stood.

The Yridian, his attention focused on Odo and the guards, bumped squarely into the Klingon from behind.

The Klingon spun, mostly on reflex, and pushed the trader backward into the large table.

The trader went down hard.

The next instant an explosion shattered the room.

Riker was slammed back against the wall, his head banging against the hard surface.

He felt the thud and then a flash of light and pain.

And then the world went black.

The next thing Riker knew, Dax was bending over him.

He blinked the dust out of his eyes and stared at her, forcing himself to focus on her face until the spinning slowed. She had a scratch across her forehead and her hair was covered with dirt, but she looked all right.

“What happened?” he managed to say.

She shook her head and glanced over her shoulder. “A bomb at the table we were at last night. It looks like it destroyed the back half of Quark’s.”

“The trader?”

“Dead,” she said. “And possibly a few of the Klingons. I couldn’t tell.”

That wasn’t going to help the conference. He tried to move and pain shot through his head, making Dax’s face and the ceiling behind it spin like a ship out of control.

“Go easy,” she said, holding him firmly. “You got a nasty bump on the back of your head.”

He relaxed. Then he felt himself smiling through the pain.

“And just what’s so funny?” Dax asked.

“I was hoping I would end up in your arms, but not this way.”

She laughed and didn’t answer.

But he could see the twinkle in her eye and suddenly his head felt much, much better.