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 o
n 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.”
Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine® Volume Three Page 5