“Mr. Tev, an opening line of credit has been placed in your name on the Futures Exchange. I think fifteen bars should be a good start for you,” Rheb said. “The Exchange is just this way, if you follow me.”
He spun on his left heel and began briskly walking away from the group. It took Tev a few strides to catch up, and he heard the women behind him. When they were right with him, he turned to Abramowitz and gave her a quizzical look.
“I promised him delights no Ferengi had ever experienced,” she said, a grimace crossing her features.
“They may wheel and deal with their lobes, but men throughout the galaxy act fairly uniformly.”
Rheb kept up his brisk pace as they moved deeper into the building, which seemed far larger than Tev would have imagined. People got out of the floor manager’s way, many bowing in any number of prescribed Ferengi groveling forms. He knew each had significance but didn’t want to slow down to ask Abramowitz for an explanation. There remained a tight time frame despite all the time-travel nonsense they had to endure. Instead, he snickered at the almost uniform reaction to his fellow officers. He pitied them but couldn’t let it impede the mission.
Finally, Rheb turned sharply to his left and stood before a massive pair of doors. The Ferengi touched some control within his garish jacket and the doors parted, allowing a cacophony of sound to rush out. Tev had studied various forms of commerce while at the Academy, but nothing prepared him for the manic energy emanating from within. Rheb, though, took a deep breath, a smile plastered to his face. This was heaven to the manager, or the Divine Treasury, as he believed the Ferengi called their afterlife. To Tev, it was just noise and desperation. Within, people were shouting at one another, padds being passed back and forth, screens flickering with information, and set against the far wall was a clock ticking down to the end of the trading session. There had to have been hundreds of Ferengi crammed inside, with movement being severely restricted. He noted the interior temperature was significantly higher than the hallway and for a moment envied the women their lack of clothing.
“Tev, I think you will find everything you need if you start with the room manager, Trotta. He’ll take very good care of you. Shall I escort your, ah, associates to a waiting room?” His voice betrayed his desires, and Tev smiled to himself.
“I think not,” he replied. “No offense, mind you, but we’re new in town and I’d prefer not to misplace any of my belongings.”
The floor manager brought his wrists together and bowed once more, backing out.
Tev returned his gaze to the dizzying room, as he pulled out the tricorder. The node signature was still nearby, probably in this very area, but he couldn’t pin it down further. Too many other signals were interfering with the reading; he shrugged and pocketed the device.
Within moments, Trotta, a much younger Ferengi in an even more garish suit, arrived and smiled toothily at Tev. He even allowed himself a long look at the women before speaking. After introductions were made, Trotta escorted the group through narrow aisles until they reached one particular station, its screens filled with a constant flow of data and imagery. Withdrawing his personal padd, Trotta sent a signal to the station, and lights winked a few times before they all flashed a dull brown.
“Your account is now active, Mr. Tev,” Trotta said, pocketing his padd. “I wish you good fortune.”
“Thank you,” Tev said and immediately ignored the man. He stared at the information coming across regarding grain production on Sherman’s Planet. For a moment he marveled at how quickly the Ferengi adapted Federation information into their commercial world. Still, “adapt or die” was a universal law, although it might not have made it in so many words into the Ferengi’s own Rule book.
He pulled out his tricorder once more and began placing orders with the man on the other side of the counter. For every order Tev managed to shout, the Ferengi surrounding him seemed able to get in five times as many. Still, a quick look at the account board showed he had placed seven orders in just under ten minutes, all of which would pay off in an hour. Based on the Federation historic database, he knew the outcomes but placed his orders conservatively, including two that would fail. This would allow him to repay his credit of fifteen bars of latinum and start his own nest egg. He would then parlay those resources into bolder trades that would be designed to attract Lant’s attention.
He couldn’t rush things, otherwise he’d raise suspicions. Instead, he’d have to waste precious time and he couldn’t even dispatch the women to hunt down Lant. They had to play their part. He could already tell Corsi was simmering, ready to lash out at the first opportunity. They exchanged glances and she nodded once, reaffirming she knew her role and would play it for now. Tev suddenly felt the pressure of the twelve-hour window, the countdown to the end of the trading session and the now-lit fuse that would result in Corsi doing something that might jeopardize the mission. If only he could place bets on that….
* * *
As Tev began the time-consuming task of building a fortune, Gomez, Abramowitz, and Corsi were left to stand around, being gawked at and little more. It sat well with none of them, especially the engineer. She disliked time travel and she disliked Ferengi culture and a woman’s lack of place in it. Yet, here she was, a decade or so in the past, stark naked and surrounded by Ferengi, who would just as soon own her as look at her. She really wanted to go back to the starship…a feeling she hadn’t had too often since Kieran died.
“Domenica,” she said tentatively, “how’re you holding up?”
“I’d prefer smacking every Ferengi who’s looked at us, but I’m keeping my temper.”
“Figure Fabe will get some mileage out of this mission?”
“He’ll try and then he’ll discover why they nicknamed me Core-Breach.” Corsi actually smiled at the line, although Gomez winced at the image.
“How’re things between you two?”
Corsi hesitated, uncertain of the answer, which was not her style. “I think we’re okay. Once we got back to the ship we’ve been kept pretty busy. I’m not exactly used to this sort of thing.”
“Shipboard romances? Me either, except for Kieran—but don’t go by example.”
A look of pity washed quickly over Corsi’s face and Gomez inwardly winced. “What you two had was great,” the security chief finally said. “I’m not sure what I’ve got. Fabe might, but I’m still figuring it out.”
“And it bothers you, I can see that,” Gomez said.
“Yeah.”
“The not knowing?”
“That and being involved with anyone,” Corsi admitted. “I mean, who am I to suddenly have a man to complicate my responsibilities?”
“How so?”
“My duty is to Starfleet. It used to be to my father and mother, and now Fabian is part of the equation.”
“It’s not all math, you know,” the engineer said with an accompanying smile. “If I know you, it’s a little more like chaos theory.”
Corsi laughed and actually started to blush at the comment. With a glance past Gomez, though, she saw the bewildered look on Abramowitz’s face.
“What about you, Carol, ever have someone aboard ship?”
“No,” was all she said, indicating a lack of desire to continue the conversation. In fact, Abramowitz turned away from the two and directed her attention to the big board of information.
Gomez and Corsi exchanged confused expressions, each shrugging their shoulders. But Gomez knew, as first officer, that something was troubling Carol; it occurred to her she didn’t know her crewmate anywhere near as well as she should.
Before either could say anything else, they heard a slapping sound and spun around. Carol was backing away from a Ferengi, who was busily rubbing his cheek and cradling his left hand, awkwardly trying to do both at the same time. It was clear what had happened and equally clear that things were so chaotic that this was likely to occur again. The three huddled a little closer, trying to avoid any contact with rushing traders
, floorwalkers, or even Tev.
* * *
“That’s fifty-four bars to your account.” The Ferengi sitting behind the desk spoke with a tone of amazement in his voice.
Tev accepted the padd back, making sure every slip was accounted for. He noted the processing fee seemed high and handed the padd back, tapping at the line of type with one well-polished and rather pointed black nail. The Ferengi looked at it as if he had never seen an error before and looked up at Tev while assuming one of the more popular cringes. The standoff continued for a few more seconds and finally the Ferengi acquiesced and corrected the deduction. Behind him, Tev noted a column of numbers seemed to shrink and he nodded to himself in agreement.
“Master,” Carol began in a singsong voice. Tev turned toward her, an indulgent smile on his face. They leaned their heads toward one another to whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear, as far as the crowd around them was concerned.
“You’re doing well, but Lant seems to be nowhere nearby.”
“I noticed. I’ve been trading in the same sectors he has been from what Lieutenant Wong told us, and my successes should be matching his. Lant’s obviously not stupid, so he’s playing it smart and staying put. We just can’t figure out where that is. We need to do something.”
Right then, a new voice was heard and it wasn’t a happy one. “What’s going on?”
“Tev is having a good run,” the morose man behind the counter said, ignoring the speaker and processing more trade orders.
“Very well,” the other Ferengi said. He was an unpleasant-looking Ferengi with the most insincere smile Tev had seen yet. He was smartly dressed in a muted crazy-quilt jacket with a dull red shirt peeking through. By Ferengi standards, it was almost conservative.
“Ah, Mr. Tev, I see the fortunes are kind to you today,” the man said. “I am Brunt, Trotta’s adjutant. For new customers here on Ferenginar, we have a more comfortable room for you to use. Trotta suggests I escort you there. Maybe you and your, ah, party would like to accompany me.” He didn’t even wait, spinning on a heel and striding off, literally pushing people out of his way. The lack of reaction indicated this was typical behavior, so Tev refused comment, but did gesture for the others to follow him. They were led from the room to a private elevator, where a uniformed Ferengi youth stood. Brunt got in first, then the others, but before the doors closed, the attendant was expectantly looking from face to face. It was growing uncomfortable for Tev, who finally figured out the attendant was expecting some form of tip for performing his job. He glared down at Brunt, who was trying to ignore the look. Finally, he let out a small sigh and withdrew his padd. He beamed some form of latinum to the youth who heard a beep go off in his hip pocket. At that, the doors closed and the small elevator shot upward at a dizzying speed.
When they stepped off the elevator seconds later, Tev was amazed to see the comforts that awaited them: deeply cushioned plaid chairs, solid-color throw pillows the size of a bunk bed, tables laden with hot dishes of various tube grubs and a crowded bar. Beyond the bar, a handful of Ferengi were conducting business on communications devices or dealing with a far less crazed traders’ desk. The noise level was decidedly muted, the tension less palpable. It was downright civilized to Tev’s way of thinking. Trotta, concluding a conversation with two other Ferengi, saw them emerge from the elevator and came to greet them, a big grin on his face.
“You can continue your successful business from here,” Trotta said. “Your, ah, women can wait in that corner until you’re done.”
“May I feed them?”
Trotta paused, and looking displeased, nodded once, a move echoed by Brunt. With a gesture, Tev indicated the women should help themselves from the food table. Trotta watched them appreciatively and commented, “You must be very good at what you to do to afford such fine creatures.”
“I get by,” Tev said noncommittally.
“I find it interesting you are finding success in the grain markets; that makes you the second one this month. Just the other week a man who didn’t seem to have the lobes to pick his own clothes comes in and scores big.”
“Really? A fellow countryman perhaps?”
“Mine, not yours,” Brunt said. “His name’s Lant. He’s amassed quite the fortune, but maybe he’s a savant. Absolutely no investment sense. He’s been storing it all in long-term growth funds.” He cackled at such a strategy. To Tev, it sounded eminently practical, but he had information Brunt didn’t.
Corsi, her plate wriggling at her with the grubs and some salad, wandered by and was listening. “This Lant must have the lobes after all. Is he here today? He sounds fascinating.”
Trotta looked at her with distaste. After all, Tev knew, women shouldn’t be heard at all when out in public. Still, he was counting on some latitude, given the money he was playing with. He tried to catch Corsi’s eye to have her stop but clearly her patience was almost at an end.
“He might be, woman,” the manager answered. “Now please, chew Mr. Tev’s food and give it to him.”
Corsi took a step closer to Trotta, and it was clear she was the taller of the two, so he had to look up to meet her eyes. At first, he refused to look any higher than necessary but Tev cleared his throat, catching the older man’s attention. Tev tipped his head upward, silently commanding respect for his property. Trotta finally looked into Corsi’s smoldering eyes. He was looking more uncomfortable by the moment and Brunt backed up two steps. Tev was amused to note that sweat seemed to appear on his prominent forehead. Well, if he couldn’t stop Corsi, he was going to at least wait and see how much more information she could get from him.
“Might isn’t good enough,” she said, steel creeping into her voice. “Tev wants to do business with him, business that might profit him, Tev, and even you. Do you know where Lant is?”
The circuits inside Trotta’s mind were working overtime, Tev noticed. Clearly, he was looking for a way to benefit from imparting the information he had. A smile began to form on his lips, and Trotta stepped even closer to Corsi so there was barely any space between them. He leaned toward her ear and whispered, “Whatever information I have might be yours, if Tev would let you and me go to my office for, well, that is, for a little oo-mox.”
Corsi’s fist found Trotta’s stomach before Tev could even tell her to stop. The Ferengi doubled over, air rushing out of him, and then he let go a squeal that had Carol and Sonya covering their ears. The security chief stepped over the kneeling Ferengi, grabbed his collar and hissed in his ear, “Lant. Now.”
Brunt moved to help his superior, but Abramowitz and Gomez blocked his path. The others in the room looked up, stared, and then silently returned to their business. Clearly, there was no profit in participating.
“He completed trading about an hour ago and left the Exchange. He usually goes for drinks after a successful trading day.”
“How successful was he?” she asked.
A long wheeze. “Very.”
“Where does he drink?”
Trotta began to get off the ground but Corsi’s bare foot pushed him into the carpeting.
“He’s a hopper, starts at the Treasure Chest and goes from there. Now, don’t hit me again.”
“Not to worry. I think my master was planning to leave now.” She gave Tev a look that meant it was indeed time to move on. Tev signaled the others and they all headed for the elevator, ignoring Trotta and Brunt. Corsi’s glare stopped the pair in their tracks and let them leave the floor without further incident.
In the elevator, the attendant looked once more for a tip. Corsi stared him down until the car began to descend although at a slower speed than before. Tev looked angrily at his security chief. She looked back, defiant.
“She’s right, we weren’t getting anywhere,” Abramowitz said.
“And time’s a-wasting,” Gomez added.
“I had things under control,” Tev said with irritation.
“You might have a fortune in latinum, but Lant is still loose. At lea
st now we have a trail,” Corsi said. She turned to the attendant and demanded directions to the Treasure Chest. When he hesitated, she grabbed him roughly by the collar and glared once more. He provided the location and to his surprise, Tev sympathetically tipped him four slips.
Once on the street, he noticed the skies were a darker shade of gray and a breeze was kicking up. Rain was coming and he wouldn’t be able to shield his companions, which would only make them cold, wet, and cranky. Another race against time, but he grudgingly admitted Corsi got further with a little strong-arming than two hours of trading, no matter how profitable. And it was fun, he admitted to himself. The question remained as to what he would do with his ill-gotten funds when this was all over. Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he pulled out his tricorder. The readings indicated Lant was in the same general direction as the bar. Tev shook the random thoughts free and led the away team over several blocks west and then two north until they saw the bright yellow sign and animated image of jewels spilling from an old metal chest. He reached for the door and paused for a moment, looking at Carol.
“We’d be thrown out, so we’ll just wait here,” she said.
“Hurry, will you?” Gomez demanded. “And consider that an order, Commander.”
Inside, it was crowded with businessmen having a late lunch. There were representatives of many races aligned with the Ferengi, but he was surprised to see a cluster of Nausicaans clearly concluding negotiations with a Ferengi. It appeared they were all enjoying liquid lunches and were acting very chummy; probably thinking each was getting the better of the other. Such were the ways of business on many worlds, he knew. The bartender was a Ferengi of indeterminate age, and he leaned over the counter to better hear Tev.
Buying Time Page 4