Odo smiled impartially at the fawning Ferengi and at the one easing back up the ramp. "No need to announce me. I can find my way."
"Ah, perhaps I should go with you," the Ferengi said, and rubbed his hands together nervously. "You could get lost; Ferengi ships are nonstandard. You could encounter, oh, all sorts of things."
The smaller Ferengi at his elbow added helpfully, "Open wires, open floorplates—"
The first Ferengi silenced him with a look. Odo looked down at them, considering. They were clearly not going to get out of his way willingly, and he didn't enjoy the use of physical force; besides, he hadn't actually expected them to let him on board again without a customs warrant. "I'm here to speak to Quark," he said.
The two Ferengi exchanged a quick look, and then the larger one spoke again. "He's not here, I'm so sorry. You should try back at his place, but I doubt he's awake this early."
"He had better be," Odo said, with a grim smile. "That's his seal on those cargo pods, and I don't recall his export declaration listing a second outgoing shipment."
"I'm sure there's some misunderstanding," the larger Ferengi began, the smaller one nodding madly in agreement at his side.
"Is there a problem, Constable?" That was Quark, appearing suddenly in Sticky-Fingers' hatch.
"I'm not sure," Odo answered. "You should be more careful, Quark, your own people didn't know where you were. They told me you were at your—establishment."
"Imagine that," Quark said, and gave the crewmen a sour look. Then he straightened, clasped his hands together, and started down the ramp with what passed for a bright smile. It showed most of his pointed teeth, and Odo, who had seen the act before, was even less than usually impressed.
"Now," Quark said, "what's the trouble, Constable?"
"This," Odo said, and gestured to the double grav-sled piled high with the slim silver cylinders of cargo packed for transsector shipment. "According to the documents you filed yesterday, you had a single shipment of fifty cylinders of gravis departing on this ship. Fifty cylinders were loaded yesterday, and yet I find at least another fifty waiting. That is a problem, Quark."
"Actually," Quark began. "Actually, my plans have changed somewhat since yesterday, Constable. It seems I'm able to ship rather more than I'd anticipated—unexpected profits, smaller losses, that sort of thing. So I've revised my intentions. Surely it's not against the law to change one's mind?"
"Certainly not," Odo said. "However, it is against the law to evade the export duty."
Quark's smile sagged visibly, but he recovered himself in an instant. "Evade? Constable, you malign me."
"I doubt it."
Quark contrived to look wounded, showing more teeth in the process. "I was on my way to file the necessary documents."
"And pay the duty?" Odo asked.
"Of course." Quark drew himself up to his full height. "I deeply resent the suggestion that I would deliberately avoid paying my fair share." He glanced at Odo's unyielding expression, and shrugged. "Any more than any other Ferengi would."
"Of course," Odo said, and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "But just to avoid any further—misunderstandings…"
Quark sighed. "Pay up?"
"Let's just say I want to save you from yourself," Odo answered, and touched his communicator. "Odo to Security. I want a man sent to cargo bay twenty-six at once." He waited for the acknowledgment, and looked down at Quark. "My deputy will see that you have everything in order before you take those cylinders aboard."
"How unnecessarily generous of you, Constable," Quark said.
"Not at all." Odo paused. "Oh, there is one other thing."
"Yes?" In spite of himself, there was a note of hope in Quark's voice—in the old days, under the Cardassian regime, a comment like that had been an invitation to offer a bribe—and Odo sighed.
"You should know me better than that by now, Quark. It concerns your friend the captain's journey to the station."
"Yes?" Quark sounded wary, and Odo wondered if the other Ferengi had been up to something, or if Quark was being cautious on general principles.
"There have been reports of an attack on a Xawe ship on the Cardassian border. Commander Sisko is quite concerned, and wants me to ask all the captains who've transited that sector if they encountered anything unusual on the journey."
"What sort of an attack?" Quark asked.
"Fatal," Odo answered. "The ship, and her crew, were completely destroyed."
Quark gave him a sour look. "I can tell you right now that Idris didn't run into anything like that. Or see anything, for that matter. If he had, he'd have charged me double."
It was no more than Odo had expected. He waited until he'd seen his deputy, a thin, hard-faced Bajoran, installed at the foot of the Sticky-Fingers' cargo ramp, and then glanced at the nearest chronometer. The Shannar should have docked by now; he might as well see if her captain had, for the first time in Odo's memory, kept to his schedule. To his surprise, the customs team was at docking port six already, busy at the open hatch that led into the ship's cargo area, and he stopped beside the Bajoran in charge.
"Are you quite sure this is the Shannar?"
The Bajoran grinned—he knew Shannar all too well—but answered promptly. "Yes, sir, it's Shannar all right. I'd know that wreck anywhere. My guess is, the captain's drunk—or maybe sober for the first time."
Or afraid? Odo thought, his attention sharpening. It would take something as serious as fear of imminent destruction to make Radath Keiy hurry. "I want to talk to Captain Keiy," he said aloud, and the Bajoran nodded.
"Certainly, Constable. Oh, and there's a passenger on board."
"For Bajor?" Odo asked. That was still the most common destination, though more and more people were using DS9 as a way station on the journey through the wormhole. To his surprise, the Bajoran shook his head.
"No. And not heading for the Gamma Quadrant, either. Her end destination is DS9."
"Hah." Odo took the datapadd the man extended to him, scanned the tiny characters that filled the screen. The traveler—a Trehanna, a species he didn't know, but that he vaguely thought was humanoid—was indeed scheduled to leave Shannar at DS9, and had booked a room in the transients' quarters. "I will want to talk to her, as well." There was no real reason for it, except curiosity—but she had boarded Shannar in the sector where Helios had been sighted, Odo saw. She might know something, or have heard something, anything, about the mysterious ship.
"She's in receiving now," the Bajoran said. "If you hurry, you may catch her there."
"Thank you," Odo said. "Tell Captain Keiy that I will want to speak with him."
"I'll tell him to contact your office," the Bajoran promised, and Odo turned away.
The receiving station was at the end of the nearest crossover bridge, about a four-minute walk from docking port six. It was a small, sterile place, filled with blued light, and bright display screens—scanners, data-stores, passive and active alarms—banded the walls. A Starfleet ensign, one of the most junior of Sisko's people, was fumbling with the controls of the main console as she tried not to stare at the figure waiting patiently in the column of light from the medical scanner. It had to be the unknown Trehanna, Odo knew, but its shape—her shape, Odo reminded himself—was completely hidden under a voluminous dark-green veil. It covered her from head to foot, trailing a little on the floor so that it prevented even so much as a glimpse of her toe; only her eyes were visible, as she turned to face the newcomer, through a narrow slit in the heavy fabric. The ensign gave an exclamation of disgust.
"I'm sorry, ma'am—my lady, I mean—but you have to stand still until the scan is finished."
"I'm sorry," the Trehanna answered. Her voice was low, and very clear despite the muffling fabric. "Please forgive me. I will be still now."
"Thank you," the ensign muttered. "I'm starting the scan again."
"Do you need assistance, Ensign Zhou?" Odo asked, and the young woman gave him a look compounded of grati
tude and irritation.
"Not exactly, Constable, but it'd be nice if you'd run her papers through the computers."
"Of course." Odo took the silver disk from the console, and fed it into a universal dataport. The format was nonstandard, and definitely not Federation; Odo grimaced at that—it was all but impossible to keep track of all the petty planets that fringed the Federation, or their paperwork—but ran the matching program. It took a moment for the computer to respond, but then the screen filled with data. According to the search, the Trehanna was from Yrigar on Trehan, and was known as Diaadul, widow of Innaris; beneath the letters was a series of bars that represented retinal and palmprint scans. Odo's eyebrows rose at that, and he said aloud, "No hologram?"
Zhou looked at him oddly, but said nothing. She looked at her console instead, and said, "All right, ma'am—my lady. The scan's complete, you're medically cleared for entry."
"Thank you, Ensign." One hand emerged from a slit in the veiling, a long-fingered, delicate hand that seemed too fragile to carry the heavy rings that banded four of the six fingers, or the stacks of bracelets that encircled her thin wrist. "Is that all?"
"Uh, no, my lady." Zhou looked at Odo. "We still have to verify your identity."
"Oh?" Diaadul's veiled head turned from side to side, as though she was studying the two officers.
"I'll take care of it, Ensign." Odo said. "If you'll step this way, madam." He gestured for her to step up onto the platform that stood in front of the ident machines. "Are you familiar with the procedure?"
Diaadul shook her head again. "I'm sorry. I haven't been off Trehan before. What must I do?"
Odo took a long look at the muffled shape in its trailing veils. "We need to verify that you are the person named on your ID disk. If you would lay your hand on this tablet, here, and look into the scanner—" He touched the hooded lens.
Diaadul stepped forward cautiously, laid her hand on the cool slab of the palmprint reader, and leaned forward until her veiled forehead rested on the edge of the lens. "Just so?"
"One moment." Odo fed her passport into the readers, waited for the machine to give its verdict. Instead, the scanner beeped at him, and displayed an error message. "No, madam, not like that. You will see a blue light at the center of the scanner. Focus your right eye on that dot."
"Ah." Diaadul shifted, obviously trying to see more clearly, and then freed her left hand to adjust the veil's eye slit. "I think—not, not quite." She wriggled again.
"You would find it easier if you removed your outer garment," Odo said, with some asperity.
Diaadul drew back in shock, her hands vanishing into the folds of the veil. "Oh, no!"
"The scanner can't function through layers of cloth," Odo said. It was a statement of the obvious, but the Trehanna seemed unable to grasp the concept.
"I may not," Diaadul said. "Forgive me, but I am a Trehanna and a noblewoman, and I may not show my face to anyone except my lawful husband, now sadly deceased."
"It's a custom," Zhou said quietly, and Odo shot her an irritated look. But he had learned some time ago that when humans or their close cousins invoked "custom" there was little point in arguing with them, no matter how foolish or impractical the custom might seem to more rational peoples.
"Very well," he said. "We'll have to see what we can do. If you would try again, madam?"
Diaadul leaned forward meekly. "I think I have it now," she said, after a moment.
Odo snorted, but pressed the buttons again. This time, the machine flashed its "scan complete" symbol, and a moment later, "identity confirmed." Odo sighed. "All right, Diaadul—"
"Lady Diaadul," the Trehanna interrupted, soft-voiced. "If it pleases you."
"Whether it pleases me or not is irrelevant," Odo said, "if that's the proper form of address." Diaadul made an odd movement, a swaying, dipping motion that Odo realized must be some kind of formal acknowledgment. "Lady Diaadul, then. Your passport checks out."
"Welcome to DS9," Zhou said.
"Thank you," Diaadul said. She stepped away from the scanners, gathering her veil around her once again.
"Are you here for business or pleasure?" Odo asked.
Diaadul seemed to stiffen under the concealing draperies, and Odo wondered what peculiar taboo he had violated this time. Then the Trehanna's shoulders drooped slightly, and she said, in a subdued voice, "Business, sir. I am here to complete arrangements begun by my late husband, the Lord Innaris."
"I see," Odo said. Actually, he thought, I don't see at all.
How can anyone do business wrapped up like that? Or maybe it's an advantage having others not able to see her face.
"I hope it goes well," Zhou said. She looked down at her screen. "I'll have your luggage sent to your cabin—that's on level seventeen of the habitat ring."
"Thank you," Diaadul said. She looked from one to the other. "Perhaps—My lord had dealings with a merchant here, whom I must contact. If it's not too much trouble, perhaps one of you could direct me to one called Quark?"
Odo blinked once. "Madam—my lady. Quark is well known to me in my professional capacity—and I am the Chief of Security for this station. I would advise against doing any kind of business with Quark, under any circumstances."
"Oh?" Diaadul's voice was sweetly innocent. "But I must. It's my duty, as my husband's relict, to finish this last business of his as he would have done it."
"I doubt you could," Odo said. "Forgive me, but you seem somewhat—unused—to business dealings. Quark will have no compunction about taking full advantage of your inexperience, and, not to put too fine a point on it, he would enjoy cheating you of everything you own. You'd be taking a considerable risk in dealing with him."
"Oh." Diaadul's eyes widened for a moment behind the veil. They were quite green, Odo saw, slit-pupilled and inhuman, but the sort of color that some of the younger human males praised ecstatically. Bashir had once lectured him for ten minutes on the particular attraction of green eyes, before he had noticed that Dax's eyes were blue. Then Diaadul shook her head decisively. "No. Thank you very much for your warning, Constable, and I will certainly keep it in mind, but I have to do as my husband wished. That is my duty."
"Let me escort you to your quarters," Odo said. "I can tell you some things that may change your mind."
"That's very kind of you," Diaadul said, "but I am under obligation. I have to complete my husband's arrangement with Quark."
Odo walked her through the maze of corridors and turbolifts, reciting the litany of Quark's more egregious exploits. Diaadul listened attentively, one hand clutching her veil to keep it out of the rolling hatchways, her eyes widening again. Odo began to hope she might be willing to listen to him—it was bad enough for Quark to cheat his fellow merchants, who knew both how to play the game and how to play their opponents; to impose on such an obvious innocent was far worse, and must be prevented—but when they paused outside her assigned quarters, Diaadul shook her head again.
"You've been very kind, Constable, more kind than you needed to be, and I am grateful." She held out both hands, the heavy bangles clattering, and Odo, uncertain of the gesture, took her hands in his.
"And I promise you I will be careful," Diaadul went on. "But you must believe me, I have no choice in this. Though I thank you for the warning." She laid her hand against the doorplate, and disappeared into her new quarters.
Odo stood for a moment, staring after her in baffled anger. He considered pounding on the intercom, demanding that she let him in, listen to him—but she had listened, very politely, and was as stubborn as before. And that was a very human trait, for all that Trehanna were not, strictly speaking, humans. There was nothing he could do to stop her, if she was determined to make her own errors, short of locking her in the security office until she changed her mind. And, though it might make a pleasant fantasy, it would never do. He shook his head, and turned away, heading for the connecting tunnel and the turbolift to the Promenade. But there was one thing of which he felt qui
te certain: the moment she realized just how much she had lost, she would come running, and then it would be his job to recover it.
He emerged onto the Promenade in a less than pleasant mood, and his temper was not improved at the sight of the Shannar's captain sitting patiently in the outer lobby of the security office. Radath Keiy was a Farruna, large even for his large species, and his bulk seemed to fill most of the available space.
"I was told you wanted to see me, Constable?"
"That's right," Odo said. "I have some questions to ask."
Keiy blinked once, slowly, the nictitating membranes veiling his golden eyes a half second before the eyelids came down, and Odo was meanly pleased by that sign of nervousness. "However I can be of service, Constable…"
"Come into my office," Odo said, and led the way into the inner room. The Farruna took up even more space there, a hulking, grey-skinned reptile who seemed unable for a moment to find room for the massive tail that served to counterbalance his heavy body. "Do sit down."
Keiy looked at the available chairs. "With all respect, Constable, I think I'd better stand."
"Suit yourself, Captain," Odo answered. He took his own place behind the desk, and flipped on a working screen. "As I said, I have some questions to ask you, same as I've been asking of all the ships' masters who've come through the border sectors in the last week. Do you mind if I record your answers?"
Keiy blinked again, but shook his head. "No."
"Good." Odo smiled without teeth, knowing that the expression disconcerted the Farruna. "A ship has been destroyed in Federation space, by something that came out of Cardassian territory. We—Commander Sisko—is deeply concerned, and has asked me to find out if you, or anyone you know, has been attacked, or seen any signs of a pirate's activities."
The nictitating membranes trembled in Keiy's eyes, making him look momentarily blind, but he shook his head again. "I can't help you there, Constable. We had a fine voyage, better than ever. We didn't see anything unusual, nothing at all."
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