“I know what he is. He’s the top Ferengi. I know that, although I’ve never had the . . . ‘pleasure’ . . . of making his acquaintance.”
“I know you, Q . . . but I don’t know these two!” the nagus said impatiently. “Who are they?”
“This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” I said, indicating Picard, and pointing to Data, I said, “And his ‘big mouth,’ associate is Doctor Watson.”
“Actually,” Data said, “I am usually Sherl—”
“Not now, Watson.” I regarded the nagus with open curiosity. “Dispensation? What are you talking about?”
“It’s my business! I give dispensations. In case you’re unaware, in addition to being ruler of the entire Ferengi Alliance, I am also the central religious official.”
“You have a religion?” said a surprised Picard. “I thought the only thing Ferengi worshiped was money.”
The grand nagus stared at him blankly. “What’s your point?”
“Nothing. None at all.”
“Good. In any event, I,” and he thumped his chest in a rather smug manner, “am the main—and only—religious figure in this entire bazaar. Fortunately, however, I am schooled in the religions of over three hundred thousand different races. And what I don’t know, I make up.”
“But what does that have to do with . . . dispensations?”
The nagus straightened his robes and then sat down again. “I absolve people of their sins. They come to me, one at a time or in small groups, and ask for absolution. It’s most entertaining. And I look very serious, and hear their transgressions, and then I speak some mumbo-jumbo that erases all their sins. And they leave happy. A lot of them go out and sin again and then come right back for more dispensations. It’s a great racket . . . I mean business.”
“And each time, they pay you a fee.” Picard laughed bitterly. “Nagus . . . haven’t you ever heard that you can’t take it with you?”
“Rule of Acquisition Number Ninety-seven: ‘If you can’t take it with you, don’t go,’ ”the nagus replied.
“You have no choice,” Data said. “The universe is ending.”
At that, the nagus laughed. “I see what you’re up to. You’re hoping to intimidate me now with some huge lie.”
“No. I am not.”
“Another lie! A few more, told as convincingly, and you would make a passable Ferengi.”
Data looked politely confused, but gamely said, “Thank you.”
“So are you here for a dispensation?” He regarded me with interest. “I’ve never given dispensation to an omnipotent being—even a powerless one. I can’t wait to look up the going price. What religion are you?”
“I worship stupidity, and you’re my new god. I’m looking for my son, you posturing poseur.”
“Your son? Why would I know anything about your son?”
“Because a lot of people come through your tent. They tell you a lot of things. Perhaps one of them has mentioned something.” I gave the nagus a quick description of my boy. He listened thoughtfully, stroking his chin and nodding, taking it all in. When I finished, he said nothing. Just sat there like a stone. “Well?” I prompted impatiently.
“Actually,” he said slowly, “it rings a bell. Not that I know for sure, you understand. But yes, it most definitely rings a bell.”
“Would you be so kind as to tell us where he is?” I said in my most benevolent tone.
He rubbed his hands together. “What have you got?”
“Got?”
“Yes. Got.”
I was about to launch myself across the table to wring that little twerp’s neck when I felt Picard’s hand restraining me.
“Go on . . .” I croaked.
“What do you have for payment? For trade? You can’t possibly think,” and he laughed derisively, “I’d tell you what you want for nothing, do you?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” I said.
“Well, uncross it. The very notion is insulting. To give you something for nothing? Absurd. I will require some sort of payment.”
“I left my wallet in my other pants,” I told him. “Look, I’m not in the mood to play these games. . . .”
“And I’m not in the mood to be trifled with!” Then he looked at Data and seemed to be considering something. Finally he said, “Am I mistaken, or is he a machine of sorts?”
“Yes, I am. I am an android,” said Data.
“What possible bearing does that have on—”
The nagus cut Picard off and said, “I’ll take the android in trade. How’s that? That sounds fair.”
“Fine, take him.”
“Q!” said Picard in annoyance. “We’re not trading him!”
“I’m not leaving without the information. Time is ticking, Mr. Holmes.”
“We don’t leave him behind,” Picard growled.
I blew air impatiently between my teeth, and then after a moment’s consideration, I looked back at the Ferengi. “Are you interested in a challenge?”
“A challenge?” The nagus eyed me suspiciously. “What sort of challenge?”
“I think you’ll find it rather intriguing. Forget the android. I’ll put myself on the line. I, one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy, shall be your servant if you win the challenge.”
“The ‘former’ most powerful being,” he corrected me. “An intriguing proposition,” he said, grinning in a fiendish manner. “And you have some sort of contest in mind? A battle of wits?”
“Simply put . . . yes. I will say a number that you are thinking of.”
“Any number?”
“Yes.”
“But you have no power. That’s true, is it?”
“If I had power,” I sighed, “wouldn’t I simply turn you into a melting puddle of flesh and be done with you? If I had power, you toddy-faced throw-up, would I be coming to the likes of you for an answer to any question, least of all a question regarding my son’s whereabouts?”
“Good point,” admitted the Nagus. “I believe you. So, you will say a number that I’m thinking of?”
“That is correct.”
“And if you cannot do so then you will be my servant. Forever.”
“Also correct.”
“Q,” Picard said, clearly concerned. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Absolutely.”
“All right,” said the nagus after a moment’s deliberation. ‘I’ve got it.”
“Six,” I said without hesitation.
“Haaaa haaa haa!” the nagus roared with laughter. “It was one million and three! You fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The best known, of course, is never get involved in a land war on Vulcan. But only slightly less well known is this: Never go up against a Ferengi when money is on the line!”
And he continued to laugh very loudly until I said calmly, “One million and three. Now where’s my son?”
That stopped him. He frowned and said, “What?”
“One million and three. Did I not make myself heard? Are you thinking of that number right now?”
“Well . . . yes.” There was clear confusion on his face.
“Because we’re talking about it now, yes, but . . .”
“I did what I said I would.”
“No, you didn’t!” His voice went up an octave. “You were supposed to guess!”
“I never said that.” I turned to Data and asked, “How did the conversation with the nagus and me go, precisely? Word for word?”
Completely in his element, Data said crisply, “You said, ‘I will say a number that you are thinking of.’ The nagus said, ‘Any number?’ You said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘But you have—’ ”
“I know what I said!” raged the nagus. He had been trembling earlier with fear; now it was with anger. “But what challenge is there if you just say the number after I’ve already told you what it is?”
“I never said I would say the number before you said it. I’m not responsible for your incorrect inferences. Besides, I’m
not looking for a challenge. I’m looking for my son. We had a wager; you lost. Now tell me what you know on the subject.”
“No!” The nagus petulantly folded his arms. “I’ll tell you nothing! You cheated! The bet is over, and so is this audience!”
Now Picard took a step forward. He smiled, and there was something about the smile that was distinctly unpleasant. “Nagus . . .”
“Grand Nagus!”
“Grand Nagus,” Picard said with a shrug, “you must certainly have wondered about the circumstances that brought you here?”
“Yes, of course I have. My ship was jumping to warp, and suddenly then I wound up here. No others are certain how they wound up here either.” For a moment, just a moment, it seemed to disturb him, but then he obviously shook it off. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’ve managed to prosper, to profit. And that is all that matters.”
“Indeed. Well, let me make some things clear to you. We were telling you the truth. The universe is coming to an End. If you believe it or not, it doesn’t matter. Furthermore, we are trying to find a way to stop it. Whether you believe that is also beside the point. But here is something that I strongly suggest you consider.” Picard leaned forward, closing the distance between himself and the nagus. His expression hardened, and there was a significant threat in his tone. “If we succeed in our venture, the universe will be restored to the way it was. If that happens, Q will once again be omnipotent. I’ve known him for a long time, Grand Nagus, and I can promise you this: he never forgets an offense, even a trivial one. And an offense involving both welshing on a bet and lack of cooperation in finding his son, why, that’s not trivial at all.” Picard’s voice became quieter and quieter, and in doing so the menace grew exponentially. “And the things he will do to you . . . you can’t even begin to imagine. But you will. Whether you’re here another day, a week, a year, or eternity, you’ll spend all that time imagining just what shape his revenge will take. And no matter what you come up with . . . it will pale compared to the reality, I assure you. Now, we may very well fail. The odds are against us. But we just might succeed. Are you interested in playing those odds?”
The nagus was quiet for quite a long time. So long, in fact, that someone in line outside the tent shouted, “What’s taking so long in there?”
“Shut up!” the nagus shouted back, and there was a quaver in his voice. Then he said, “The directions are complicated.”
“I will remember,” Data said.
“Yes. You would, wouldn’t you?” the nagus said, annoyed. He proceeded to rattle off what was indeed a very complicated set of directions. “Once you get there,” he said, “the master of that place should be able to help you. He has a young lad in his service, I hear. He sounds like he may be your son.”
“Thank you,” Picard said.
The nagus was shaking his head. “I, the nagus, outwitted. Inconceivable.”
“I do not think that word means what you think it does,” said Data.
I stepped closer to Picard and murmured, “My admiration, Picard. That was quite deft.”
“Elementary, my dear Q.” Then he turned to the nagus as we were leaving. “The ‘master’ of that place . . . does he have a name?”
“Yes,” replied the nagus. “He calls himself god. Didn’t mention a last name.”
God's house . . .
God’s house was something of a fixer-upper.
It was not only the largest tent at the bazaar, it was the largest tent anywhere. It stretched so far that I couldn’t quite see where it curved off. Furthermore, it was the skyscraper of all tents, the poles stretching so high that they literally disappeared into the clouds.
But as I said, the tent was not in the greatest shape. The edges were frayed and threadbare, and there were many holes, some of which had been patched, others left torn.
Picard, Data, and I stood outside, trying to find a way in. There may be things more frustrating than circling a tent looking for an opening, but at that point in time, I couldn’t think of one.
The walk had taken us forever, and it was a good thing that Data was along to reiterate the directions. There was absolutely no question in my mind that we would have become hopelessly lost, had we been left to our own devices. I toyed with the idea of crawling under the tent, but the edges were so tight to the ground that it was impossible. That left us with no option other than to circumnavigate the tent again.
I thought back on our conversation with the nagus. I remember he said, as we were leaving his tent, “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“Not especially. But if it’s where my son is, that’s all I care about. And if it’s not . . . then sooner or later I’ll get back to you, and it won’t be pleasant.”
“It’s that God fellow, I tell you!” the nagus said. “We chatted when I first got here! He’s the one who suggested my new business of dispensations and absolutions! I believe in Him because He believes in profit and in me! You better watch out; if He doesn’t like it you He’ll smite you!”
“He smite. Or He smite not,” I had replied, not wanting to continue the conversation with this low-life.
We were walking single file around the tent. Picard was walking in front of me. He was deep in thought. “What’s on your mind, Picard?”
“How do we know that ‘God’ is in this tent?” he asked. “What does God need with a tent?”
“What does He need with a church or a synagogue? What does He need with angels?”
“That’s true,” said Picard. “But a tent?”
“Picard, we’re seeking to learn who or what is responsible for the End of the universe.”
“I agree,” said Picard. “And the existence of some anchetypal ‘God’ might go a long way to explain who or what is responsible for this calamity. Might it not be a reasonable leap to think that this calamity and this ‘God’ are one and the same?”
“A leap of faith?” I shook my head. “Picard, every time I think there’s some modicum of hope for you, you disappoint me. One step forward, two steps back. It’s becoming the story of your life. Listen, Picard, I know that a situation such as what we’re facing is almost incomprehensible to you, and to me, for that matter. But your instinct is to go running back to the mind-sets of your most primitive ancestors to seek solace and explanation. As in the words of the ancients, ‘Since I don’t know what it is, it must be god.’ It’s simple—lazy but simple. ‘Lightning comes from the gods, right? Rain is the tears of the gods, so forth and so on.’ The universe simply isn’t made like that, and the sooner you come to realize that, the sooner your kind has a shot at true advancement.”
“You’re saying that the only way to move forward is to leave behind faith, and a belief in something greater than ourselves?”
“Exactly. Do you think the Q got to where we are by believing that there’s anything greater than ourselves? Of course not. We assumed the responsibility of being the greatest force in the universe, and lo and behold, we are. We make our own reality, Picard. It’s not shaped for us by some vast, unknown, and unknowable being.”
“If you are the greatest force in the universe, Q,” Picard said quietly, “why is it you can’t even get into this damned tent?”
Unfortunately, I had no immediate answer for that. However, as luck would have it, a section of the tent abruptly flapped open, providing us with an entrance that had not been there a moment before.
“Right on cue,” I said and, noting the pun, added, “How appropriate.” “After you, mon capitain.”
“ ‘After me’ when we’re heading into an unknown situation. I’m not certain whether this is courtesy or whether I’m cannon fodder.”
“You can send Data in first. If we hear a growl and his head comes rolling out, we can take that as a hint that this isn’t the right tent.”
Picard sighed. He tended to do that a good deal when he was around me, I’d noticed. Then without another word, he walked through the entrance of the tent, followed by Data. I cheerily took up the
rear.
It was extremely dark. God had obviously not paid his electric bill. There was a faint glow, coming from a source that I couldn’t identify, giving us just enough light to see one another but not much more. However, there was one thing I could see, or more appropriately, sense. Power.
I couldn’t tap into it, couldn’t draw from it. But it was there, just the same, and Picard noticed something as well. He looked at me.
“Power. All around,” I said to him in a low voice.
“Power?”
There was something in his tone. “Picard, let’s not go through this again. There was power in the stronghold of M as well, and she was hardly divine.”
“But you don’t know, for sure.”
“No, Picard, I don’t,” I said, becoming more and more exasperated by the moment. “But unlike you, I don’t fall back on fairy tales to deal with what I don’t know. I assure you of one thing. I have personal knowledge of, and experience with, every being that exists on the sort of power level we’re discussing. In short, I know all of my peers and all of my near-peers. So if any of them are here, we’ll be able to chat it up nicely and I’ll be sure to introduce you.”
“Why, though,” Data piped up, “would others have power in this realm and you do not?”
“Perhaps,” I speculated, “the longer one remains down here, the more power one acquires. In fact . . .”
“In fact what?” prompted Picard.
“Perhaps one acquires power by resigning oneself to remaining in one area. We’ve moved from one place to the next so quickly, refusing to stay put, that we haven’t had an opportunity to find out. Because of that, I may be ‘deprived.’ ”
“How long would we have to stay at one level, do you think?”
“I’ve no idea,” I admitted. “Time in this place isn’t measured in the same way, and doesn’t flow in the same manner, as in the outside world. Besides, we’re faced with a deadline. The universe is going down the drain, and for all we know, we’ve only minutes or perhaps seconds left. We can’t afford delays.”
He nodded.
And at that moment, the lights suddenly came up. Picard and I flinched, shielding our eyes against the brightness. Perhaps god’s electric company had a change of heart.
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