Were an oppressed people wrong in doing anything they could to get rid of their oppressors?
She turned back toward the patients in the outer rooms, and got her answer.
Yes, they were. Some prices were too high, no matter what the cause.
Chapter Fifteen
QUARK RUBBED HIS LEFT EAR with the back of his left hand. It felt as if something were tickling the edge of his lobe, and not in a pleasant way. He leaned across the bar and surveyed his business.
His empty business.
He hadn’t had a customer in hours. At this rate, he would be broke within the month, faster if Nog and Rom continued to spend all his latinum. No wonder Prindora left Rom. He could go through money faster than anyone Quark had ever seen.
Quark peered into the Promenade. There was no one there either. The Volian’s shop was still open, but he hadn’t had a customer since Rom needed his new hat. Several of the restaurants had closed, and most of the stores were closed as well. No one even wandered the Promenade, as if just moving around the station made a person vulnerable to disease.
Quark rubbed his ear again. All of this worry was making him break out. And of course, it would happen on the most sensitive spot on his body.
He heard a clang above him and he glanced up. Nog came out of the first holosuite, a bucket in his left hand. He set the bucket down, scratched his ear, and then picked up the bucket.
Quark felt cold.
He turned and leaned toward the mirror behind the bar. It wasn’t a pimple that he was scratching. He hadn’t broken out since he was a young Ferengi just hitting puberty. He leaned closer. The reddened area on his left ear looked more like . . . a blister.
“Nog!” he shouted.
“Coming, uncle,” Nog said. He clanged all the way down the stairs. Quark had had to look all over his quarters to find a bucket, but when he had found one, he gave it to Nog with the instruction that the boy scrub the entire bar, including the holosuites. It was just a way to keep him out of the way for a while, so that Quark could think. Quark had hoped he would come up with ways to save the business, but that hope had been in vain.
Nog reached the bottom of the stairs. He set the bucket down, and absently scratched his ear again.
Quark’s eyes narrowed. “Come here, Nog.”
Nog looked up. He came toward the bar, and smiled at Quark. When he reached the edge of the bar, Quark grabbed him and pulled him close. Nog’s smile faded.
“Turn your head,” Quark said.
Nog did.
“Not that way. The other way.”
Nog looked in the other direction. Sure enough, there was a reddish spot on Nog’s right ear. A reddish spot that was swollen and had a pus-filled tip. A blister.
“You little grubworm!” Quark said. “I should have known better than to use my earbrush after you touched it.”
“What?” Nog asked. “What did I do?”
“Your filthy hands had germs on them from your father’s ear infection, and you touched my brush and you spread those germs to me. And now I’m in agony. Look!” He turned his ear toward Nog and leaned toward Nog’s face. Nog grimaced and strained backwards, but didn’t get very far because Quark was holding him.
“I’m sorry, uncle. I didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t mean to. Your father didn’t mean to. You’re an entire family of Ferengi who have no idea how to take responsibility for anything. Well, I do.” Quark shoved Nog backwards. “Get your father.”
“What for?”
“Just get him.”
“Don’t fire him, uncle. You’re all we have.”
“Yes,” Quark said. “I am reminded of that sad fact daily. Now get him.”
Nog backed out of the bar, bumping into a chair, then turned and ran for their quarters. Quark leaned across the polished surface and stared at all the empty tables. No customers. No latinum. And an ear infection spread by his careless brother. And that hunch of Quark’s was still playing.
Things were going to get worse.
Nog came out of the quarters, dragging Rom by the hand. Rom was trying to shove his hat over his head. Quark came out from behind the bar, plucked off the hat and threw it over his shoulder.
“But brother,” Rom said. “The customers!”
“Are you seeing customers?” Quark asked. “Because if you are, then there’s more wrong with you than that ear infection.”
Rom glanced around, his movements jerkier than usual, like they always were when he was nervous. “If there are no customers, then why did you have Nog come to get me?”
“Because,” Quark said, “you’ve managed to infect all three of us through your carelessness.”
“I thought you said it was my carelessness,” Nog said.
“It was both of you!” Quark snapped. “Now come with me.”
He took them both by the hands and dragged them out of the bar.
“Where are we going?” Rom asked.
“To the medical lab,” Quark said. “We’re going to get this solved.”
“But they have dying patients,” Rom said. “Why would they help us?”
“Because we have latinum,” Quark said.
“Dr. Narat doesn’t take latinum,” Rom said.
“And you know this how?” Quark asked.
“When we first arrived, I wasn’t sleeping. I went to him for—”
“For what?” Quark stopped in the middle of the Promenade. It was empty.
“For—for a sleeping draught.”
“A sleeping draught. And you offered Dr. Narat latinum.”
“Of course,” Rom said. “That’s how business is done.”
He seemed so proud of himself.
“And he didn’t charge you anything?”
“No,” Rom said. “He gave me something to help me sleep and then he laughed when I offered him latinum, and said that Cardassians don’t take payments from Ferengi.”
“Well, that’s a blatant lie,” Quark said.
“Is there a point to this, uncle?” Nog asked. He stared down at Quark’s hand, which was wrapped around his wrist.
“A point to what?” Quark asked.
“This conversation about latinum?”
“Not really,” Quark said. “Except that I was wondering where my brother was going to get the latinum to pay the good doctor.”
“Well, you said that we should make ourselves at home. I figured you wouldn’t mind that I was going to take care of myself.”
“You figured. You figured. Just like you figured this boil on your ear would go away?”
“It’s just an infection, brother, caused by the drinks.”
“It’s an infection that your carelessness has spread. And we’re going to stop it.” Quark dragged them down the hall. The stench coming from the medical area was stronger than he had expected. He had been smelling the rot for a week now and ignoring it, like he did in butcher shops on Ferenginar, but here it was nearly impossible to ignore.
“I don’t think I’m going in there,” Rom said.
“Yeah,” Nog said. “They probably won’t have time for us.”
“They’ll probably be happy to have something they can solve,” Quark said with more bravado than he felt. If his ear didn’t itch so badly that he wanted to scratch it off the side of his head, he wouldn’t go into that place either. But he couldn’t stand itching, especially on as sensitive a place as his ear.
He shoved Rom and Nog ahead of him, and the door to the medical lab opened. The smell was even worse. A hundred voices moaned.
Rom shook his head. “Brother, I—”
And Quark pushed him forward. Nog followed him in, and then Quark brought up the rear.
“Whatever it is,” Dr. Narat said as he passed, “it will have to wait.”
“It can’t wait,” Quark said.
“Are you dying?”
“No.”
“Then it can wait.” And Narat disappeared through a door.
“See?” Rom said.
“We have to wait. Which means we should leave.”
Quark caught him by the sleeve. Quark wasn’t too happy about being here either—he’d never been in a room filled with green Cardassians before—but he wasn’t about to leave now. For one thing, he might never make it back. And then he’d have to scratch until his ear bled, and the infection would grow worse, and his lobes would—
He couldn’t allow himself to follow that train of thought. He shuddered and headed toward the office.
“I wouldn’t go in there,” a human woman said. She had long dark hair and beautiful eyes.
“Who are you?” Quark asked.
“Alyssa Ogawa,” she said. “I’m helping here.”
“We have a problem, and it needs some attention.”
“Let me see what I can do,” she said.
She slipped through the office door, and Rom turned to Quark. “She’s beautiful, brother.”
“She’s hu-man, Brother,” Quark said. “You can’t trust a hu-man.”
“Ah, but you can look at them,” Rom said.
“Women are not your strong suit,” Quark said. “Stop thinking about her.”
She came out the door with Kellec Ton. He looked exhausted. “I don’t have much time,” he said. “What do you need?”
Quark leaned forward, pointing to his ear. “Look at this. Look at this. My brother got—”
“Couldn’t this have waited?” Kellec Ton asked. “We have a real crisis here.”
“We know and we’re sorry,” Rom said. “We’ll leave now.”
Quark pulled him closer. “No, we won’t.” He glanced around the room. “I admit, our problem is nothing like theirs—” and he shuddered a little at the very thought “—but it is uncomfortable.”
“You can live with discomfort,” Kellec Ton said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“No,” Quark said. “I won’t. Don’t you understand? This itches.”
“And I’m very sorry,” Kellec said. He was holding the door like it was a lifeline. “But I don’t have time—”
“These are our ears,” Quark said, his voice going up. “It would be like you getting an infection on your—”
“Brother!” Rom said, breathless with shock. “Remember Nog.”
“I know about their—” Nog started to say, but Rom clapped a hand over his mouth.
“I’m sure the good doctor will help us when he has time,” Rom said. “Now let’s go.”
Kellec Ton let out a small laugh and shook his head. “All right,” he said. “You made your point. Let me look at that.”
He bent down and turned on a small, handheld light. “It’s an infection all right,” he said, looking at Quark’s ear. Then he examined Nog’s and then Rom’s. “And it’s clearly transmittable, probably through the pus. Let me give you some antibacterial cream that should ease the itching and clear this right up.”
“Thank you,” Quark said.
“Yes,” Rom said. “Thank you very much.”
The doctor went into the office, and rummaged through a drawer. Rom leaned over to Quark. “I still think we shouldn’t have bothered him.”
“Shut up,” Quark said. “We’re getting help, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” Rom said. “But he’s right. There are people dying here.”
Quark nodded. He had to admit that he did agree with Rom, but for entirely different reasons. He wished they hadn’t come here. Before it had seemed entirely personal. The Cardassians got sick and no one came to the bar. But it wasn’t personal. In fact, it was so impersonal that it hurt. No one came to the bar because everyone was afraid of this—turning green, scaly, and the stench! And then dying.
Quark shuddered. He would have to start planning his future, a future that didn’t include Terok Nor. He wasn’t sure what he’d do, because once the word got out that Terok Nor was the site of a plague, Quark wouldn’t be able to work anywhere—at least not have a bar. Customers didn’t like hearing about contagious diseases in their bartender’s past.
“Here you go,” Kellec said, placing a tube in Quark’s hand. “Follow the instructions. Your problems should ease by the end of the day.”
“Thank you,” Quark said. “We didn’t mean to interrupt. If we had known—”
“No,” Kellec said. “It’s all right. You did me a favor. You reminded me that there’s an entire universe out there. Even if things on Terok Nor and Bajor . . .” He shook his head. “Anyway. I needed to remember that life does go on.”
“Yes, it does,” Rom said. “And—”
Quark kicked him. He shut up.
“We do appreciate it,” Nog said. “We won’t bother you again.” He scurried for the door. Quark followed a bit more slowly, the tube cool against his right hand. He was staring at the Cardassians on the beds and makeshift cots. He recognized a number of them, had served them drinks, listened to their problems. And they would all be gone soon, if something didn’t change.
He sighed and slipped outside, where Rom and Nog were waiting for him.
“Well, brother,” Rom said. “You did the right thing. Now all we have to do is apply that cream to our ears—”
“No,” Quark said. “I’ll apply it to my ears, and I’ll give you your own dab of it. I’m not touching anything you touch ever again. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” Rom said.
“Does this mean I get your earbrush?” Nog asked.
Quark stared at him for a moment, and then he sighed, unwilling to fight them anymore. “I guess it does,” he said.
Chapter Sixteen
NEARLY TWENTY-FOUR HOURS without sleep. Pulaski felt it in the grit of her eyes, the sluggishness in her arms and legs. She had pulled all-nighters hundreds of times from college on, and she’d hated each and every one of them. Of course, she had to admit that this one she didn’t mind, because the work needed to be done.
She bent over the culture she had been working on. She took a dropper and placed a small sample of solution on it, then glanced at the screen. Narat stood beside her. They watched as the solution moved through the viral cells, destroying them. It left all the other cells alone.
“I think we’ve got it,” Narat said.
Part of it, anyway, Pulaski thought—but didn’t add. She and Kellec hadn’t told Narat about Virus B and Virus C and how that discovery had led them to this formula, which might actually be a cure. Kellec was testing a slightly different form of solution on Virus B, although what she and Kellec had told Narat was that Kellec was merely doing a double check.
Narat trusted them. He hadn’t looked too closely at either experiment.
“The next step is to use test subjects,” Pulaski said. She wiped a hand over her forehead. “But we don’t have any.”
“Just the patients,” Narat said.
“I hate injecting an untried solution into someone,” Pulaski said.
“I have to agree with Narat on this one, Katherine,” Kellec said. “They’re going to die anyway. We have to see if we can stop it.”
She nodded. She knew. She had done the same several times in crisis situations, the last time on the Enterprise. But each time her scientist’s brain warned that one day they would inject the wrong substance into the wrong patient, and that that patient would die too soon.
“Why don’t you and Narat try the Cardassians?” Kellec said. “I’ll try the Bajorans.”
“It might not work on one group or the other,” Narat said.
“We’ll deal with that when it happens,” Pulaski said. She took a deep breath. “Let’s at least try a couple of patients before we inject everyone.”
Narat nodded. “That much caution I can accept. Let’s take three: one who is nearly gone, one in the middle of the disease, and one at the beginning.”
“Get Edgar to help you find the patients,” Pulaski said. “And Alyssa is among the Bajorans.”
She sat down. Something was bothering her about the cure, she wasn’t sure what. But it would come to her. Eventually.
/> Kellec was working among the Bajorans, moving beds so that they were closer to the office, injecting hypospray on the three patients. In the cultures, the results had happened quickly. Pulaski wasn’t sure what would happen in an actual body.
Narat was doing the same with the Cardassians.
Ogawa looked excited. A strand of hair had fallen from her neat bun, and she was smiling for the first time since they had reached Terok Nor.
Governo seemed solemn. He probably wasn’t certain this would work. The entire trip had been hard on him—first-time away missions often were for medical personnel, and this one was particularly difficult. Failure here would be worse than anything any of them had ever faced before, except Pulaski, and right now even she would be hard-pressed to remember an occasion worse than this.
Kellec finished with his few patients and sat down beside her. “How long do you think this will take?”
“If we’re lucky, twenty minutes,” she said.
They both knew what would happen if they were unlucky. They watched Narat work with the Cardassians.
“If this works,” Kellec said, “it’s only going to work on the virus. People will still catch it.”
“I know.” He had put his finger on what had been bothering her. “Maybe, though, it’ll be like catching a cold—not anything to worry about.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But it bothers me that we haven’t found how this thing incubates. You know how pernicious viruses are.”
She did. Viruses mutated, often after medicine was introduced. She shivered. “Don’t even think it.”
“I have to,” he said. “I’m worried.”
“Dr. Kellec?” Nurse Ogawa called from the Bajoran section. “You need to come here.”
Kellec cursed. “It backfired. We should have known better than to try this untested—”
Pulaski put her hand on his arm. “Shhh. You’re jumping to conclusions.”
They both went into the next room. The patient nearest the door, a young Bajoran girl, looked tired, her skin sallow. She sat up, with a hand on her head. “I’m hungry,” she said with a bit of surprise.
Pulaski opened her tricorder and ran it over the girl. There wasn’t a trace of the virus in her system. Kellec was confirming the information on the biobed readouts.
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