The Long Mirage

by David R. George III

  Laren leaned in over Quark’s shoulder as the two hid in the alley. Night had descended as they’d made their way deeper into Mericor City, the interior of the dome darkening as the hour had worn on. When they initially headed toward the center of the settlement, amid swarms of other visitors, the routes widened and the buildings reached higher into the sky, promising a welcoming and vibrant urban core. But then, following the guidance of the scanner, they veered north, and the character of their surroundings changed. Structures dropped back down to one and two stories, pedestrian walkways contracted, narrow alleys appeared between neglected, sometimes crumbling walls. The crowds thinned too, and the figures they passed kept their heads down as they moved furtively through the cheapjack neighborhood.

  “Do you have her?” Laren asked under her breath, in a voice so quiet that Quark doubted even a Vulcan standing beside them would have heard her. Over the years, she had learned how softly she could speak and still have him able to distinguish her words.

  Quark held up the diminutive scanner so that she could see its display. Green blocks represented the buildings around them, and black segments between them designated the alleys and streets that ran through the run-down section of the city. A single flashing red pinpoint marked the location of the only Petarian the scanner had to that point detected, inside one of the nearby structures. A flock of yellow dots indicated motion and heat signatures around the object of their search.

  “Where is she?” Laren asked. “In what type of building?”

  The barkeep held up one finger, and Laren immediately quieted. He listened, concentrating on filtering out the ambient sounds that told him nothing he needed to know—voices in the distance, footsteps moving away, music from three different sources. When his ears told him he could do so safely, he stepped out of the shadows and into the yellowish light of a nearby streetlamp. Quark peeked from the alley and down the cross street, in the direction the scanner signaled. He saw numerous doors and windows on either side of the walkway, many sets of them accompanied by signage in various languages. He recognized Federation Standard, Cardassian, Andorii, Yridian, Denobulan, not to mention two placards written in Ferengi, one announcing a gambling den and the other a private communications hub.

  Ducking back into the shadows beside Ro, Quark answered her question in low tones. “There are so many entrances into so many places, packed in so tightly, I can’t tell from here which one she’s in,” he said. “I saw saloons, breathing bars, a comm hub, substance purveyors, a betting parlor, and other places I can’t identify. She could be in any one of them; there’s no way of knowing without getting closer.”

  “Then let’s get closer.”

  “No,” Quark said. “Viray knows me on sight, and she’s not stupid, so there’s a good chance she’s looked at images of you as well. I don’t want her to know we’re on her trail until we’re ready to deal with her, in a place where we’re sure she can’t run from us.”

  “But how do you know we’re going to get that opportunity?” Laren asked.

  “I don’t,” Quark said, “but I do know that trying to corner her in a place with an unknown layout, among a group of people, any number of which could be her coconspirators, will probably only send her into hiding. We need to—” Quark abruptly stopped talking, his attention captured by what he saw on the scanner cupped in his palm.

  “What?” Laren asked. “What is it?”

  “It’s Viray,” Quark said. “She’s on the move.”

  xi

  * * *

  Ro exited the lobby of the inn, moving quickly across the avenue and down a side street, to a public house where Quark waited for her. She entered the dark, dingy establishment and hastened to the booth in the far corner, mostly out of sight from other patrons. She braced herself for Quark to be gone, either because something had happened with Viray or because he’d finally tired of being around her after the way she’d treated him. But as she reached the booth, she saw him sitting at the inner end of the table, a half-full glass of something green and frothy in front of him. She slid onto the long seat across from him.

  “Is there any news?” Ro asked.

  “No,” Quark said. “She’s still in the restaurant.”

  They had trailed the Petarian—presumably the private detective and likely thief—on her crosstown journey, staying out of sight on parallel streets and tracking her with the scanner. Viray left the dodgy section of the city for one at least marginally better, ultimately entering a hostelry. They briefly lost track of her there, but not long after the Petarian entered the inn, she exited, still alone, and visited a local eatery. Ro and Quark secreted themselves away in the public house and continued to observe her via the scanner.

  Once it had become clear that the Petarian had entered the restaurant to have a meal, Quark had asked Ro to reconnoiter the inn. “You were right about the inn,” Ro said. “It offers rooms with only one door and no windows. They’re soundproof and resistant to sensors. The man at the desk tried to convince me that the law banning sensors on Mericor is only partially successful, and certainly we’ve seen evidence of that.” Quark nodded and turned over his hand for a moment to reveal the scanner still in his palm. “My impression of the inn is that it can be a relatively effective place to hide. I booked us a room for the night.”

  Ro expected Quark to offer an arch comment, or even to give her a leering, lascivious look, but instead, he only asked about the cost. She had to tell him that she spent almost all of the latinum he’d given her, a response that caused him to roll his eyes. “Did you at least negotiate?”

  As Ro recounted her back-and-forth with the man at the hotel—a Troyian—Quark again looked at the scanner. “She’s moving,” he said. “It looks like she’s going back to the inn.”

  “What do you want to do?” Ro asked.

  Quark thought for an instant, then said, “We need to follow her. We need to know if she’s staying here on Mericor by herself. When she enters her room, we’ll have a moment to scan inside to see if she’s alone.”

  “And if she is?”

  “What better time to confront her,” Quark said. He pushed himself out of the booth, and Ro got up and went with him. Together, they hurried through the streets toward the hostelry.

  Perhaps a block away from the inn, Quark stopped, his hand raised up before his face. “She just entered the building,” he said. Ro peered around left and right, then behind her, to ensure that nobody had them under surveillance. After a minute or so, Quark looked up. “She just disappeared from the scanner, at the very end of the building.”

  “Is anybody with her?” Ro asked.

  “When her life signs vanished, there were no movements and no heat signatures anywhere near her,” Quark said. “She’s alone.”

  “All right, then,” Ro said. “Are you ready?”

  Quark bared his sharp, slantwise teeth. “I want my profits back.”

  They strode to the inn and, after a quick check of the scanner to ensure that the Petarian had not left her room, they entered the lobby. Ro led the way, nodding an acknowledgment to the Troyian man at the counter. She and Quark entered the corridor that led to the rooms. They saw nobody else in the poorly lit passage.

  To Ro’s surprise, Quark raced ahead to the end of the corridor, reaching into his jacket as he did so. She saw him withdraw a small device, and by the time she caught up with him, he was skimming it along the wall near the access pad. At one point, a yellow light flashed silently on, and then a second, and finally three more all at once. Quark affixed the device to the wall, then tapped several times along a row of control surfaces. In rapid succession, four of the yellow lights turned green. When the fifth finally did, the door glided open. Before Ro could stop him, Quark barged through it. Concerned for his safety—and knowing they were committing a crime by breaking into somebody’s room—Ro had little choice but to follow. She pulled the device from the
wall and slipped inside. The door closed behind her.

  Quark stood in the middle of the room, staring toward the right-hand wall. There, a Petarian woman sitting on the edge of a bed gaped at him, obviously startled. It was Mayereen Viray; Quark had shown Ro images he’d recorded of her. The private detective had dark eyes and golden skin. She wore black slacks and a purple tunic.

  Ro stepped farther into the room. Viray stood up, and the captain watched for any movement that hinted the woman might draw a weapon or otherwise take action. The Petarian held her hands open and at her sides, as though aware of Ro’s scrutiny. Despite her small stature, Viray displayed a strong carriage and a confident manner. She looked from Quark to Ro and back again. She appeared to rein in her surprise. “Why are you here?” she asked Quark. “You are jeopardizing all the funds you’ve invested in my efforts, and more even than that.”

  “I didn’t ‘invest’ in you, Viray,” Quark said. “I paid you to do a job, and instead, you stole my latinum.”

  “I haven’t stolen anything from you, Quark,” she said. “Given the amount of work I’ve done and everything that’s happened with this job, you’ve actually gotten a bargain.”

  “A bargain?!” Quark snapped back, waving his arms, his voice rising. Ro didn’t know if she’d ever seen him quite so angry. As much as the acquisition of wealth meant to him, she wondered if her ending their relationship contributed to his fury.

  Unexpectedly, the door signal chimed. Before Ro or Quark could react, Viray said, “Come in.” The captain wheeled around and crouched down, preparing to spring at whatever threat appeared. The panel glided open, and for one disconcerting second, Ro could not comprehend what she saw—who she saw.

  Morn stood in the doorway.

  Ro peered over at Quark, and she saw that his eyes had gone wide. When she turned her attention back to the stocky, no-necked Lurian, she saw that he looked as though he had aged much more than the nearly two years since she had last seen him, back on Bajor. More arc-like wrinkles underlined his deep-set eyes, and he had lost all the wisps of hair from his piebald scalp. He wore a bulky dark-green jacket with quilted sleeves, and a pair of brown pants with many pockets down the legs. Morn appeared as stunned to see Quark and Ro as she felt to see him. For a moment, the tableau froze, as though none of them dared move or make a sound—but just for a moment.

  “Where have you been?” Quark demanded of his longtime friend and customer.

  Morn opened his wide, frowning mouth to reply, but then two men suddenly appeared behind him. One of them pushed the Lurian hard. Morn hurtled into the room, tripped, and went sprawling to the floor. The two men—one Vulcan, one human, both dressed in casual clothes—stepped inside. As the door closed after them, they each drew a type-1 phaser and trained them on Ro and Quark.

  “I know who they are,” Quark said, pointing at the two armed men, but speaking to Ro. “I recognize the way they move. They were the ones who faked Viray’s abduction—in other words, her accomplices.”

  Morn rolled over and started to scamper to his feet, but the human aimed his phaser at him. “Stay where you are,” he ordered the Lurian. “Don’t get up.” Morn stopped on his knees, then sat back on his haunches, his hands raised, open and empty.

  “You,” the Vulcan said to Quark. “Move over next to the Bajoran.” Quark did as he’d been ordered.

  Ignoring Morn and Viray, Ro regarded the two armed intruders. She wanted to appraise their physical ­capabilities—both looked exceedingly fit—and their behaviors so that she could prepare to act when she saw an opportunity. If she could not incapacitate the two men, if she could not at least secure one of their phasers, she had another course of action open to her: though she hadn’t told Quark, she had brought an emergency transponder with her, which she’d hidden inside her boot. She could trigger it at any time and it would signal Mericor law enforcement—such as it was—but she doubted it would function inside a room insulated against sensor contact.

  “I am Agent Corvok,” the Vulcan said. “My colleague is Agent Amadou Toulet. We’re from Federation Security.” He pulled an identification badge from a pocket and held it out so that Morn, and then Ro and Quark, could see it. She did not know whether to believe the man.

  “Federation Security,” Quark said with ample sarcasm. “That’s marvelous, because we’re on the same side. This is Captain Ro Laren of Federation starbase Deep Space Nine . . . in the Bajoran system . . . guarding the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

  The Vulcan arched an eyebrow. “We’ll check on your identities shortly,” he said. “For the moment, stay quiet.” Quark looked as though he would say more, but Ro suggested with a glance that he keep his own counsel, and he did.

  “Place your hands behind your back,” Toulet told Morn. Ro watched as the agent stepped past the Lurian and secured restraints around his wrists. “Now, on your feet.” Morn lumbered upward. Toulet holstered his weapon, then began patting down his captive.

  Ro considered rushing at the Vulcan in an attempt to surprise him and wrest away his phaser. Her intuition told her to wait. If the two men were criminals and intended to do them harm, she reasoned that they would have done so already. If they truly belonged to Federation Security, then she needn’t have any concerns.

  Toulet pulled a number of objects out of the pockets running up and down Morn’s pants. Ro saw several isolinear chips, a Cardassian isolinear rod, a comm unit, slips and scintillas of latinum, and what appeared to be several pieces of wrapped candy. He set them down on top of a dresser opposite the bed, then searched through Morn’s jacket. Toulet reached into one pocket and stopped cold. He looked over at Corvok as he pulled out a wide silver bracelet—except that Ro saw that it would more appropriately fit around her biceps than around her wrist. Technological components covered the object. It did not look familiar to Ro.

  “This must be it,” Toulet said to his partner. “Morn, native of Luria with dual Federation citizenship, you are under arrest for the possession of restricted technology. Under Federation law, you have rights and recourse, including but not limited to representation by legal counsel, the opportunity to examine all evidence collected in relation to your alleged crime, and the choice not to speak.” Ro had to stifle a laugh; she could not recall the last time she’d seen Morn quiet for more than five minutes—if she ever had. “We are in possession of an extradition order executed between the Federation and the municipality of Mericor. This order allows us to remove you to our vessel so that we can transport you to a Federation court to face arraignment. In transit, you will be provided with a full list and explanation of all your rights, and you will be permitted to contact legal representation of your choosing.”

  As Toulet continued to deal with Morn, Corvok addressed Ro. “Captain,” he said, “I trust you will understand that we need to confirm your identity, as well as determine your exact part in all of this.”

  “I’m not even sure what’s going on here,” Ro said. “Quark and I have come to Mericor only to recover funds seemingly misappropriated from him by this woman.” She gestured toward Viray, who had not moved from her position by the bed.

  “You’re Quark,” Corvok said. “You hired Miss Viray to track down Mister Morn.”

  “That’s Ambassador Quark. And there’s no crime in hiring a private detective to find somebody.”

  “That depends on your intent,” Corvok said. “We have neither warrants for your arrest, nor extradition orders to remove you from Mericor. We can detain both of you, though, based on your presence here with a suspected criminal—”

  “With two suspected criminals,” Quark said, throwing an infuriated look at Viray.

  “Rather than formally holding you,” Corvok went on, “I request that you accompany us to our ship for the purpose of aiding our investigation. If you have no part in this, then there is no risk to you.”

  “I’m not goin
g anywhere with these men,” Quark announced.

  “Excuse me,” Ro told Corvok. She turned to Quark, took his hand, and pulled him a few steps away, into the corner of the room. “I know you’re not mixed up in this,” she told him. “I know you only wanted to find your friend at first, and then to try to recover latinum you thought had been stolen from you—”

  “It was stolen.”

  “We’ll see,” Ro said. “But we should go with them. We can find out what’s going on here—with Morn, with Viray, with all of it.”

  “But . . .” Quark started, but he did not voice whatever objection had occurred to him.

  “Come on, Quark,” Ro said. “It’s over.” The moment she spoke her final two words, she knew she’d made a mistake. It’s over. Quark seemed to deflate in front of her. He could not hold her gaze. Instead, he stepped away from Ro and over to Corvok. She watched as, in more ways than one, he gave up.

  xii

  * * *

  Nog stood at the window in the living area of the suite at the Shining Oasis. The brilliant, flashing lights of Las Vegas burned against the night, turning the city into a literal beacon for fortune hunters. Nog usually appreciated the Ferengi-like nature of Vic’s human city, but at that moment, the glowing neon and the blinking bulbs seemed to taunt him. Despite being a Starfleet officer, despite serving as the operations chief and assistant chief engineer of Deep Space 9, he still knew the Rules of Acquisition by heart. In the final analysis, Vic’s dilemma could be framed as a financial problem, meaning that Nog should have no trouble resolving it. And yet the solution eluded him.