Brunt had pushed forward and was standing next to the pedestal, staring wide-eyed at the scroll—Gint’s magnificent antique scroll—as it shimmered, faded, and flickered. The only thing that remained constant in its appearance was an electronic outline.
Quark’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
A low muttering spread around the room. “It’s not real,” said the stout Ferengi to Ro’s right. “Is it . . . a hologram?” asked the even stouter Ferengi to his right. “A hologram?” echoed another businessman. “We paid to see a hologram?”
“Wait! No, it can’t be a hologram,” Quark shouted. “It’s real. My brother brought it from—”
The muttering escalated to an angry rumble. But Brunt, interestingly, no longer looked angry. He looked delighted. “It’s a fake,” he shouted. “A fake!” He pointed a finger at the shimmering image on the pedestal and roared, “FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!” Then his eyes settled on Quark. Raising his finger to point directly at his old nemesis, he roared again: “FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!”
Chapter 13
“How could this have happened?” Quark said. “It’s not possible! It’s a mistake. Or maybe a hallucination. A mass hallucination. Or maybe I’m asleep. Maybe I’m still in bed—”
“Quark, would you please settle down?” Ro said to him.
She had never seen the ever-confident Ferengi so rattled. His agitated behavior was drawing the attention of the guests—which was the last thing Quark would have wanted, had he been in his right mind.
Of course, Brunt was doing an even better job of attracting their attention. “I told you,” he was saying to his cronies. “I told you not to trust him. Once a miscreant, always a miscreant.”
“Everything was so prepared,” Quark rattled on. “I supervised every detail. This can’t be happening. It’s got to be a mistake.”
Ro put her hands on Quark’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. “Quark, listen to me,” she said. “Chief O’Brien is in there now, getting to the bottom of things. You’re not doing anyone any good by panicking. Look at your brother—he’s not panicking.”
Indeed. Rom, bracketed by his loved ones—Leeta, whispering reassurances into his ear, and Bena, hugging him tightly around the waist—appeared calm. Or, perhaps more accurately, catatonic.
“Of course he’s not panicking,” Quark said. “What has he got to lose?”
Ro exhaled in frustration. She turned to Odo, who was leaning against the bar, observing the scene with a great deal of interest.
“Can you talk some sense into him?” she asked.
“What’s the point?” responded the Changeling. “It’s just as I explained earlier.” He held out his hands, fingers splayed as though he were tossing something into the air. “Boom.”
Ro frowned. “I thought you were his friend.”
“What gave you that impression?” Odo responded, his expression unreadable.
Then all conversation in the room ceased as O’Brien, accompanied by Blackmer, emerged from the hallway. Aware that all eyes were upon him, O’Brien addressed Ro softly. “Do you want to discuss this somewhere more private, Captain?”
“I think—”
But she was interrupted by a shout from the crowd. Brunt again. Of course.
“No Starfleet cover-ups!” he cried out. “The citizens of Ferenginar deserve to know the truth about this!”
Whatever O’Brien had to tell her would quickly filter through to the guests anyway, so Ro made a quick decision. “Tell me what you found, Chief.”
O’Brien sighed and lifted his right hand to display a small, inconspicuous piece of equipment. “I deactivated the force field so I could examine the pedestal closely. And . . .” He paused, giving Quark a regretful glance. “And I’m afraid that this holoprojector was the only thing in it.”
He placed the device on top of the bar and pressed a button on its side. And there it was, an image of the portion of scroll that everyone had seen. “Sorry, Quark,” O’Brien said.
The onlookers gasped. Conversations sprang up throughout the room—most of them ugly, and all of them directed at Quark.
Standing next to O’Brien, Blackmer realized that he was witnessing a potentially volatile situation. “All right, calm down, folks,” he said. “We’re nowhere near figuring out just what transpired here.”
“We know what transpired!” shouted Brunt. “Quark tried to fleece us all—pretending that he had the Sacred Scroll!”
“I did not!” Quark responded. “Why would I do something like that? Why would I make people pay to see a hologram of a holy relic?”
Odo and O’Brien exchanged glances.
Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, O’Brien said nothing.
But Odo said, “I can think of two hundred and eighty-five reasons.”
“But it wasn’t a hologram!” insisted Quark.
O’Brien gestured at the photonic image on the bar. “Quark, that is a hologram.”
“I know that’s a hologram. But it’s not what Rom took from the Vaults of Opulence.” He slowly turned to look at Rom. “It’s not, is it? I mean, I asked you to bring the scroll, but I never actually saw it until you had it all set up in the lounge.”
Now all eyes turned to settle on Rom.
“Grand Nagus?” inquired Blackmer.
Before Rom could stutter a word, Leeta, infuriated at the suggestion that her husband had committed chicanery, leaped to his defense. “How dare you! He would never do that! He brought the real thing! Tell them, Rom.”
Stammering slightly, Rom told them. “I . . . I went down to the Vaults and got the scroll. I put it in a little box—a nice little box,” he assured the crowd. “And then I brought it on the shuttle, and when I got here, I carried it into the display area and hooked up the force field. Up until then, I never let it out of my sight. I even took it with me into the ’fresher—”
The crowd gasped again. “You took our most sacred relic into the ’fresher?” Brunt repeated in disgust.
“Of course he did,” Leeta confirmed proudly. “Because he takes his nagal responsibilities seriously. And sometimes he’s in there a long time,” she added.
Suddenly, the subject at hand pierced the usual cloud over Zek’s brain. Realizing what was being discussed, he got to his feet and stared at Rom in horror. “You took the Sacred Scroll out of storage? There are rules against removing the Rules from Ferenginar!”
“Not for the Nagus,” said Quark. “It clearly states in Bylaw Seventeen of the Nagal Immunity Clause that he can—”
“Bylaw, schmylaw!” said Zek. “Fat lot of good that will do you when the Order of Scrutinizers is at your door.” He pointed a finger at Rom. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes!”
Then a puzzled look came over his features and he turned to Ishka for clarification. “I’m not, am I? In his shoes? He’s the Nagus, right?”
Ishka took his hand and nodded. “He’s the Nagus.”
“That’s what I thought,” Zek said, clearly relieved. “You’re in troooou-ble,” he said, stretching out the first syllable as he smiled pleasantly at Rom.
“Arrest him!” Brunt said to Blackmer. “And Quark too!”
“He can’t,” said Ro. “The embassy has been dedicated. This is now Ferenginar territory. As far as Starfleet and the Federation are concerned, neither of them has committed a crime.”
“No, but a crime has been committed,” Quark said. “Against the embassy. We’ve been robbed. And somebody here is the robber!” He jumped to his feet. “Nobody move!” he shouted. “Nobody leaves until we find the culprit!”
He ran behind the bar, punched the button that activated the force field, and glowered at the startled crowd.
Chapter 14
The VIFs surged, en masse, toward the entrance, jostling and shouting, pushing one another against t
he low-level force field, which fzzzed as it fritzed and flashed in response.
Oh, the Ferengity, thought Odo, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. From his vantage point, perched on a stool at the bar, the whole scene was all too predictable, yet tremendously entertaining.
The former head of station security watched as the current head of security forced his way into the fray and retrieved the stunned Ferengi as they bounced off the field. Good work, Commander, Odo thought. You’ve obviously trained for this kind of thing. Blackmer moved about, his stern gaze directing the disoriented businessmen, first right, then left—bullying them back until they retreated into a rough, tight circle in the center of the room. That’s exactly how I would have done it, Odo reflected. It’s like herding dumb animals around in a pen.
With the potential for injury among the guests over, Odo turned his attention to an even more interesting encounter only a few feet away, behind the bar.
“Turn off the force field, Quark!” Ro was shouting. “You can’t hold these people prisoner until somebody confesses! You’ve got to let them out into the Plaza.”
Bajoran women—tough as nails. Odo let the thought linger, until it rested on an earlier time, in an earlier space station. He might have ruminated on the memory, but . . .
“But they’ll get away!” Quark shrieked from right across the bar. The “ambassador” was pacing now, refusing to listen to reason, unable—or unwilling—to get hold of his emotions.
Why doesn’t she just reach out and slap him? Odo thought. That would get his attention.
Ro, to her credit, stepped up to Quark and shook him. “Blackmer’s already locked down the docking ring,” she told him. “No vessel will be allowed to leave the station in the foreseeable future—not until I give Blackmer the go-ahead. I’m on your side here, Quark. Trust me.”
What Odo knew—and what Quark wouldn’t process in his current state of mind—was that, as Starfleet defined it, “the foreseeable future” was a very short window. Without a pressing reason, the captain would be required to give that go-ahead in twenty-six hours, whether they’d found a perpetrator or not.
Quark looked at Ro. His shoulders sagged, and the rage faded from his face. Stepping around her, he sulked his way to the control panel and pressed the button. The force field dropped with a hiss. His esteemed guests—some of them relieved, some still frantic, some turning to offer him a less than polite parting gesture—streamed out and into the Plaza.
Quark glared at the disappearing assemblage. “Don’t leave town!” he shouted after them.
Captain Ro walked across the room to join Blackmer. But Quark wasn’t ready to let them leave. “Wait!” he shouted. “You didn’t fill me in on how you’ll conduct the investigation! When are you going to begin questioning the guests?”
Ro and Blackmer exchanged looks. “Go on to the Hub, Commander,” she told him. “I’ll join you in a minute.” Blackmer, looking distinctly relieved, took his leave.
“I think Blackmer should grill Brunt right away,” Quark went on as he hustled toward Ro. “He’s been out to get me for years.”
“Quark,” she began carefully, “you remember what I said a few minutes ago about your bar no longer being Starfleet territory? This theft—if that’s what it is—is a crime against Ferenginar. It can’t be handled like a Starfleet investigation. I’ll do what I can to help you, but Blackmer has a lot on his plate right now. I can’t spare him to assist you.”
Quark stood speechless for a few seconds. Then he said, “But someone . . . someone has to investigate this. It may not seem like a big deal to you, but it’ll be the crime of the century on Ferenginar, once the public finds out about it. I can’t solve this alone.”
He looks utterly pitiful, Odo observed, still watching from his stool. Don’t let him manipulate you, Ro. This isn’t your concern.
“Send for a Ferengi investigator, maybe someone from the FCA,” the captain suggested. The look of horror that overtook Quark’s face impelled her to amend that suggestion. “Or maybe a civilian investigator,” she said. Her tone was oh so innocent—but Odo didn’t miss the meaningful glance that she cast in his direction! Nor did Quark.
I should have gone when I had the chance, he suddenly realized.
And then Quark was standing in front of him, spewing out his dire need for Odo’s assistance.
The Changeling shook his head vehemently. “No,” he said in no uncertain terms.
“What do you mean, ‘No’?” Quark repeated in disbelief.
“I mean, NO. Wasn’t that what it sounded like?”
“But how can you— Why wouldn’t you?” Quark said, his voice hitting that annoying decibel level that Odo had heard so many times in the past. “You’re an investigator! So investigate!”
“I thought I made myself clear the first time. Allow me to reiterate: NO!”
Quark ruffled at the rejection. “It’s not like you have anything else to do right now anyway!” he snapped. “You’re just sitting around the station . . . taking up space! Make yourself useful!”
Odo was considering making himself useful by shutting Quark up permanently when Ro joined the two of them. “Odo, this is a great idea!” she said with a smile. “You know the station so well—”
“Not this station,” harrumphed Odo.
“It’s still a space station,” Ro retorted. “You’ve been here long enough to figure that out. I’m sure you’ve even done some exploring on your own.”
Odo glanced up sharply at that comment. Well, of course he had. What else did he have to do? He’d wormed his way through nearly every square inch of it. But he hadn’t thought that he’d been obvious about it.
“I doubt that your Mister Blackmer would be thrilled about me doing his job,” Odo said gruffly.
“But that’s just it—it’s not his job. He’ll be thrilled that someone he respects is taking charge.”
Odo uttered a loud “Hmmmph,” and Quark, the weasel, began to smile. Truthfully, Odo knew that he would enjoy the responsibility of heading an investigation. Probably as much as he enjoyed making Quark squirm about it for as long as he could.
“So you’ll do it,” said Quark.
Ignoring Quark, he addressed Ro: “I’ll need permission to talk to anyone on the station, go anywhere on the station, and have clearance to access all relevant computer records.”
“Of course,” she said. “You can start by reviewing the station’s security footage of all likely areas where the theft could have taken place. I’ll fill in Blackmer and let him know you’ll be coming by the Hub. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” She reached over and clasped his forearm. “Thanks, Odo.”
Odo nodded once, succinctly.
As soon as she was gone, Quark was all over him, as enthusiastic as a Ferengi mudpuppy. “What shall we do first?” he asked. “Round up the usual suspects?”
Odo considered his next move. “Get me a list of all your guests and I’ll invite each of them in for a chat.”
Quark looked at him dubiously. “A chat? What if they won’t come in for a chat?”
Odo smiled thinly. “Oh, they’ll come in. It’s all in the eloquence of the invitation. As you well know. And the sooner they come in, the sooner they can leave. In the meantime,” he added, “there are other avenues to explore.”
He slid off the barstool and headed for the door. As he walked, his body rippled, its surface shimmering, melting, and re-forming. By the time he entered the Plaza, the investigator was wearing his old Bajoran uniform, now somewhat out of date compared to those of the current Bajoran militia members. But that didn’t matter. He wasn’t masquerading as one of them.
He just wanted to wear something that matched his state of mind.
Chapter 15
“I’ll be with you in a minute, Odo,” Blackmer said. “I’m pulling up the footage from every feed in Qu
ark’s, from the time the Grand Nagus brought in the scroll and hooked up the force field, till the guests”—he paused—“escaped.”
The Changeling nodded, letting his gaze peruse Blackmer’s office. The room was larger than his own office on the old station had been. The desk had far more drawers than he could imagine anyone might require. Odo didn’t see the point of having storage spaces for items he didn’t plan on using—or storing, for that matter. The desk chair had ergonomic padding, something Odo hadn’t bothered with, since he could readily adapt his body to the shape of any chair. The office equipment and interfaces to the main computer looked familiar, except for a few new machines that likely did . . . something.
The office did resemble his in one aspect: Blackmer had no personal items lying about. No family holos on the wall. No useless pieces of bric-a-brac cluttering his desk. Just a lone coffee cup sitting near the lower left corner.
Odo hadn’t required one of those, either.
“All right, here you go,” Blackmer said, turning the screen toward Odo. After pointing out (unnecessarily) how Odo could access each feed, the commander leaned back in his ergonomic chair. “Anything else I can get you?” he asked.
“Actually, yes. I need a list of any ships that may have left the station during that same time frame.”
Blackmer nodded and began tapping his padd.
Odo reviewed the footage from the party first, paying particular attention to angles that hadn’t been apparent to him at the time. Aside from the server’s mishap with the industrial replicator—the incident that had caused the brief power outage throughout the bar—nothing unusual caught his attention.
He then scanned images of the bar’s upper level, including the holosuite chambers, both active and inactive; the public and private waste extraction stations; the prep area where the additional replicators and kitchen items were kept; and all of the corridors. Everything seemed to be in order—except . . .
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