Rolling his eyes—or, given the optical camouflage, rolling Torf’s—Leck activated the Codebreaker once again.
To his shock, the display indicated that there was no code.
How is this possible?
Leck was starting to get angry. Based on the bog suit’s chronometer, he had only a few more minutes before he needed to head back to the surface. In all his years as an eliminator, he’d never failed in a job—except that once, but it was a long time ago, and nobody was left alive who knew about it, so it didn’t really count. He wasn’t about to start now, especially at a job that would help the Grand Nagus. The last thing Leck wanted was a return to the old ways. Since females started going into business, Leck had been busier than ever. Years of oppression had made females ruthless and creative, and being forced to do business with females had had a similar effect on many males. This kept the need for Leck’s services at an all-time high. The last thing he wanted was Brunt and his cronies turning back the clock.
But if there’s no code, then…
Then he laughed. Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!
The Codebreaker couldn’t find a code because there was no code. Mindful not only of the Eighty-Eighth Rule, but also the Two Thirty-Ninth—“Never be afraid to mislabel a product”—Glat and Torf had added another layer of security. If someone managed to penetrate this far, and obtain their access codes, they would be caught at this point when they entered an access code that was unnecessary. No doubt, had Leck obtained the access codes through other means, a false code for this stage would have been part of the intelligence he gained. But computers couldn’t lie—only their programmers could—so Leck was able to see through the deception.
Without entering a code, he simply pressed SELECT.
The contract started copying.
Leck smiled.
Ten seconds later, the transfer was complete. Leck put the padd back into the sealed pocket, shut down the terminal, and took his leave of the archive with one minute to spare.
As he swam back toward the surface, he wondered if there were any more eels around he could shoot. That’ll make the trip complete….
Nik threw a strip of latinum into the pot as it rotated. “Acquire,” he said, and took another card.
Naturally, the card didn’t help his hand any. It had been a miserable night at the tongo wheel. Then again, it’s the perfect ending to a perfect week, he thought angrily as the player next to him—a female—tossed three strips in and said, “Confront.”
Muttering a Klingon curse, Nik showed his hand, which was, of course, woefully inadequate. His only consolation was that the female who confronted didn’t win, either—her hand was worth the risk, but Helk had a slightly better hand, and took the entire pot.
Across the table, another female asked Helk, “Why didn’t you confront sooner?”
Helk snorted. “With this hand? I wanted a bigger pot than this. Not,” he added with a gap-toothed grin at the female who confronted, “that I mind taking this one.”
The female smiled right back. “The night is young, Helk.”
Nik said nothing, but fumed quietly. He couldn’t even enjoy a good tongo game without females being involved. It wasn’t enough that they were gallivanting around the streets with clothes on, but they also had to come and invade the tongo parlors.
In the old days, Nik would unwind after a hard week at the Tower of Commerce with a few rounds of tongo. The back room of Geln’s Tongo Parlor was one of the most exclusive tongo games on Ferenginar—you had to pay two bricks a month just to be allowed into the back room—and Nik had been a proud regular for over a decade.
Now, though, Nik wasn’t sure why he bothered, since unwinding was the last thing he could do while being forced to share a tongo table with two clothed females. Tongo was a male’s game, and letting females into it just ruined everything.
Of course, so did letting females into the business world. And letting idiots hold the Grand Nagus’s staff. We’re all going to the Vault of Eternal Destitution in a muckraker, I can tell you that.
Nik couldn’t entirely blame Geln for letting females in—after all, if they had the two bricks a month, who was Geln to argue? Their latinum was as good as anyone else’s, and besides, to exclude females would just put the parlor on the Grand Nagus’s sensor screen and, even with the current scandal, that wasn’t a place any Ferengi wanted to be.
But it still irked Nik.
As the dealer gave each of them a new hand, Nik took some solace in the fact that he was still making a dishonest living, which was the most any Ferengi could truly ask out of life. His skills as a stockbroker were well known in certain circles, along with his ability to be discreet. After all, some transactions were best done in private, away from the prying eyes of the securities exchange—or the FCA.
Just as Nik took his final card, the door to the front of the parlor opened to reveal Geln. “Hey Nik,” he said, “there’s someone here to see you.”
Nik was about to tell Geln that he was busy, but he knew Geln wouldn’t have even admitted that the back room existed, much less come back to pass on this message, if the person in question hadn’t provided a hefty bribe. Anyone who had that kind of money was probably someone it was worth Nik’s while to talk to.
Though it meant sacrificing his opening fee, Nik put his cards down and said, “Divest.”
He went out to the front room, which included a bar, three restaurant-style booths, and a dozen low-stakes public tongo wheels, to see the usual assortment of Ferengi, a few aliens here and there—
—and a Bajoran female in a Starfleet uniform sitting in one of the booths. Geln pointed to the booth and said, “Her.”
This can’t be right, Nik thought. Starfleet officers rarely carried money. How could she have bribed Geln? I wonder if he’s in trouble with Starfleet.
His enthusiasm for the meeting having dimmed considerably, Nik walked over to the booth. “Can I help you?”
Standing up, the Bajoran said, “Assuming you’re Nik, yes, you probably can. I understand you quietly sold some shares in Chek Pharmaceuticals.”
Perhaps she does have cash. It would take considerable bribe money to find that out. Nik was filled with both respect and apprehension, and he wondered why Starfleet was involved in this. I thought they didn’t interfere in other planets’ affairs. Then again, the woman’s collar was gold, which either meant engineering or security—and, all things considered, the latter seemed the most likely.
“What makes you say that?” Nik said evasively.
The Bajoran started to say something, then smiled. “You know, Nik, it’s been a very long day. I’ve been trying to track down these stock transactions, and it’s taken me all over the capital city. I know that some of them went to an investigator named Rwogo, but the number of shares sold doesn’t match what’s in her portfolio. So I’ve bribed, I’ve offered oo-mox, I’ve bribed some more, and I’ve even offered privileged information.”
That surprised Nik. “Privileged information? I didn’t think you Starfleeters did that sort of thing.”
Again, she smiled. “It wasn’t like I was giving away access codes or anything. Someone wanted to know the erogenous zones on a Vulcan.”
Nik’s eyes widened, and his right hand brushed over the middle part of his right lobe. “You know the erogenous zones on a Vulcan?”
Now the Bajoran looked at Nik as if he were insane. “Of course not. I just made something up. My only regret is that I won’t get to see the look on his face when he tries it out on the next Vulcan woman he meets.”
Despite himself, Nik was impressed. This female knew how to deal with Ferengi. “So what is it you want from me?”
“I thought I said that already. I want to know who those shares of Chek stock were sold to.”
Nik laughed. “My dear—” He peered at her gold collar, saw two solid pips, then continued. “—Lieutenant, even if I did have such information, why would I give it to you?” She wasn’t likely to offer in
formation, given what she just revealed about her Vulcan deception, and that meant either latinum or oo-mox, either of which suited Nik fine.
“Well, like I said, I’ve done all sorts of things to get the information, and I’m tired of it. There are times that call for the direct approach.”
Grinning, Nik thought, Oo-mox it is, then, even as the female reached for his ear.
Then a sharp pain shot through Nik’s head, and went all the way down to his toes. The Bajoran might not have known the erogenous zones on a Vulcan, but she knew the precise location of the most sensitive part of a Ferengi male’s lobes, and how hard to grip it in order to induce the most agonizing pain.
“Tell me who you sold the shares to, please.”
Nik hadn’t felt agony this intense since he was a boy and his left ear got caught in his father’s old-fashioned latinum counter. It had taken an hour just to pry his head out of the machine’s gears.
“I’m waiting,” the Bajoran said, even as Nik’s knees buckled. To his dismay, that action did not cause the Bajoran’s grip to ease up.
“What do you think you’re—” That was Geln’s voice, but it was cut off by the Bajoran’s using her free hand to unholster a phaser.
“I’m talking to my friend here, something I paid you quite handsomely for the privilege of doing, so back off.”
Putting up his hands, Geln backed off. The rest of the bar grew quiet; at least, Nik thought it did. It was possible that his hearing was impaired. Certainly, his sight was getting there. Spots were dancing in front of his eyes, and his legs felt as if someone were sticking several pins into them.
The Bajoran tightened her grip yet again, revealing to Nik precisely what a phaser drill through his skull would feel like.
“All right!” he cried.
She let go.
Nik fell to the floor, unable to make his legs work.
He looked up to see the Bajoran standing with one hand on her hip, the other still holding the phaser. “I’m waiting.”
“I sold the other shares to someone named Gash.”
“He’s a Ferengi?” the female asked.
Nik nodded, then regretted the action, as it just caused his head to swim more. He added, “I can give you his account number.”
The female produced a padd. Nik forced himself to stand up, even as the phaser drill continued its work on his skull. He took the padd, entered Gash’s account number into it, then handed it back, putting his other hand to his mangled lobe.
“Anything else?” he asked in a voice that was much shakier than he wanted it to be.
“It’ll do for now.” She turned to Geln, who was keeping his distance but still watching the tableau. “Sorry for the disruption.”
With that, she turned and left.
Nik gently massaged his sore lobe. So much for unwinding in the tongo parlor. Maybe I should take up dom-jot….
9
Never allow family to stand in the way of opportunity.
—RULE OF ACQUISITION #6
“Ow!”
The novelty of hitting his head on the top of the tunnel that ran from Grandfather’s house to the Gleb Jungle had long since worn off for Nog. But it would be worth getting the bumps on his head to finally get to talk to his mother.
Nog was better prepared for this trip than he had been for his last one. For one thing, he wore an oversuit that protected his uniform from the muck of the Gleb, not to mention the swampwater in Grandfather’s basement, so he’d get to talk to his mother in a clean uniform.
He also came with a scrambler, which would negate the alarm Grandfather had placed on the tunnel entrance. Nog had also installed a recording device near the front entrance of the house that would inform him of Dav’s comings and goings. It’s good to be an engineer and have the Grand Nagus’s resources at your disposal, he had thought with a smile.
When the device told him that Grandfather had left—taking an aircar—Nog quickly arranged transport to the Gleb Jungle, and from there he made his way back to the house.
So far, so good, he thought as he entered the basement. Sloshing through the swampwater, and avoiding disturbing the mold farm, Nog went to the staircase—this time without incident.
Leaving the muck-covered oversuit at the top of the stairs, he entered the house.
The place was pretty much the way Nog remembered it. Grandfather had been an avid collector of yorra beads, and they were everywhere—even draped over the furniture, the lamps, and the wall hangings. In the latter case, it was just as well, since Grandfather’s taste in art had actually gotten worse over the years, which Nog would not have believed possible.
“Is someone there?”
I know that voice, Nog thought. He didn’t remember much about Prinadora, but he remembered what she looked like, and most of all, he remembered her voice. It was a very pretty voice, and from the sounds of it, it hadn’t changed in twenty years.
“It’s—it’s Nog,” he said as he turned toward the voice.
He saw a female standing naked in the doorway. “Nog? I know that name. Oh, but I shouldn’t be talking to you. But my father isn’t home—are you a friend of his?”
Nog couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Moogie, it’s me—Nog. Your son.”
“Son? Oh, yes, I do believe I had a son once. I think. It was such a long time ago.”
Prinadora stepped into the room. She was as beautiful as Nog remembered—small, delicate lobes, large brown eyes, a small nose, and perfectly sharpened teeth. She had a few more wrinkles in her skin, but nothing too bad. He could see why Father fell in love with her.
“I’m being rude—can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine, really, Moogie, I—” His brain could barely process this. “You don’t remember me at all?”
She shrugged. “As I said, you look vaguely familiar. I’m sorry, I don’t remember things very well. Father says it’s because I’m a female. We don’t have lobes as well developed as males, which is why we have to remain at home and not wear clothes. That is a privilege for males only.”
Prinadora spoke by rote, as if repeating something she’d been told many times, but didn’t entirely understand. Seeing her reminded him of what Father saw in her, but now Nog started to wonder if there was anything to her beyond those looks.
“Don’t you remember my father at all? Rom? You used to be married?”
Frowning, she asked, “Isn’t Rom the Grand Nagus now?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “Right, of course. I remember now—Father reminded me, he and I were married once.”
Nog’s mind was reeling. “Don’t you remember him, either?”
“I think so.” Her face scrunched up a bit. “Yes—it was a long time ago, but I seem to remember that he was a very nice fellow. He had a good heart. I was sorry when he left. He had a boy with him—I think I was the mother.” Suddenly, her brown eyes grew wider. “Oh! That would be you, wouldn’t it?”
“Uh, yes—yes, that was me.” Nog struggled to find the right words to say. “Do—do you remember anything about what happened when you and my father ended your marriage?”
“Not really. Father told me recently that we were still married, but I don’t remember the details. That’s male business, after all, and as a female it isn’t my place to question or discuss such things.”
Again with the rote talking. Nog had grown up being taught that this very behavior was how Ferengi females were supposed to act. But it had also been years since he was exposed to a female who behaved like this. In fact, most of the females he had lived and worked with since he and Father left Ferenginar to go to Terok Nor were the diametric opposite of Prinadora. After years of exposure to the likes of Kira Nerys, Jadzia and Ezri Dax, Kasidy Yates, Prynn Tenmei, Keiko O’Brien, Ro Laren, and even Korena, he found he could no longer simply accept a “proper” Ferengi female.
His mother continued: “I do know that it makes Father very upset. For the last few weeks, he keeps meeting with people,
and talking about how they’re going to bring down the Grand Nagus for what he’s done.” She looked at Nog. “But I’m still being rude. Is there anything I can get you? We have some lovely tube grubs that are fresh from the garden—I can chew them for you.”
“No, thank you.” His joking with Korena notwithstanding, Nog had long since lost his taste for pre-chewed food. “I really can’t stay that long. I just—I just wanted to see you again.”
She smiled. “Well, that is very sweet of you—Nog, isn’t it? That’s a lovely name. What’s that outfit you’re wearing? I don’t recall anyone wearing anything so—well, drab.”
“I’m a Starfleet officer.”
“Starfleet? Is that related to the FCA?”
Briefly, Nog considered trying to explain what Starfleet was, then decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Even if I did, I’m not sure she’d understand it, he thought.
“You look sad,” Prinadora said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Nog lied. How can I tell her that she’s not at all what I expected when I decided to have a reunion with my moogie? Besides, something she had said reminded Nog of the other reason why he wanted to talk to Prinadora. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“You said that your father has been meeting with people about bringing the Grand Nagus down.”
Prinadora nodded.
“Do you know who he’s been meeting with?”
Shaking her head, Prinadora said, “Not by name, no. I could describe them for you, if you wish.”
“That would be great, thank you.” Nog wanted to be able to salvage something from this trip.
“One of them I remember very well, because he smelled horrible….”
Rom stared at the sleeping form of his pregnant wife. According to Dr. Orpax, she was in a coma, though she didn’t look any different from the way she looked when she was asleep. On the other hand, she had been asleep for over a day, and that wasn’t normal, Rom knew that.
I don’t know what to do.
Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine® Volume Three Page 13