by Ted Pedersen
While Nog watched, anticipating what was about to come, Kala finally got the attention of the miner. Or, to be more exact, it was a trio of cloud crystals that Kala poured from a leather pouch onto the bar. Their beauty, and their value, was enough to attract the attention of even a hardened Bulgani miner.
“Ten strips of gold latinum,” Kala said, naming his price.
The Bulgani grunted. “These are stolen.”
“They are not. My grandfather gave them to me just before he died. They are family treasures.”
“Then why do you sell them?”
“Because I must,” Kala sighed. “I have a small sister to care for. She is sickly and I have no money for doctors.” He touched the nearest of the three crystals.
“These are all I have.”
The Bulgani looked at the crystals while trying to hide his emotions. But Nog knew what he must be thinking: that they were worth much more than ten gold latinum, and he was certain that the Fjori had stolen them. For a moment he might have even considered calling the station security guards, but that moment passed quickly. If the Fjori had stolen them from someone else, then it was only right that he steal them from the Fjori.
“Five gold latinum,” was the Bulgani’s offer.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Kala whimpered. “You know I must sell them, so you attempt to cheat me.”
The Bulgani lifted one of the crystals. The game was afoot. “Perhaps six latinum.”
Kala snatched the crystal from the Bulgani’s thick paw, then picked up the other two from the bar. He put all three back into their pouch and stood up as though he were going to leave. “I am sorry to have taken up your time.”
The Bulgani was hooked. “All right. I have only eight latinum.”
Kala hesitated. He began to put the pouch away. Hesitated again. Then he sat down and lay the pouch on the bar in front of the Bulgani. “Let me see your money.”
The Bulgani took out a stack of shiny latinum strips and placed them on the bar next to the pouch. Kala counted them. Eight exactly. “I should not accept this, but I desperately need the money.”
Kala stuffed the bars into his inner pocket. He started to push the crystals toward the Bulgani—but in the process he knocked over a glass of Bajoran sand beer.
The Bulgani instinctively jumped to avoid being splashed—and Kala seized the distraction to switch the bag on the bar with another that was hidden in his jacket. That was his third mistake.
Quark had seen the switch but considered it none of his business. If the Bulgani was that stupid, he deserved to lose his money. Quark retreated to the far end of the bar.
However, a Bajoran shopkeeper, who had also witnessed the switch and who did consider it his business, stepped forward. He reasoned that if the Bulgani lost all his money, he would have none to spend in his own shop.
Kala began to leave, but the Bajoran grabbed him by the shoulder and reached into the Fjori’s inner pocket and removed the other pouch.
Nog nudged Jake. “Come on. This is our opportunity.”
Jake wasn’t quite sure what Nog was talking about, but he followed his Ferengi friend—although he was certain Nog was going to lead them into trouble.
Which is just what he did.
The Bulgani became furious when he realized he had been cheated. He pulled Kala away from the Bajoran. It was clear that his immediate intent was to rip Kala apart piece by piece. It was also clear that most of the crowd in Quark’s welcomed this bit of live entertainment.
But Kala, like most Fjori, had been in scrapes before. He yanked the Bulgani’s money from his pocket and tossed the latinum strips into the crowd—where everyone scrambled to retrieve them.
The Bulgani, seeing his fortune being snatched up by greedy strangers, loosened his grip on Kala.
“That’s my money,” he shouted as he plunged into the crowd.
Kala turned, grabbed the pouch that he knew contained the real crystals and dashed out the place—knocking Jake over in the process.
Now the station security guards arrived and began to restore order. The sad-but-wiser Bulgani miner was able to recover only half of his money.
Jake picked himself up and went out onto the Promenade. He found Nog waiting for him, wearing a broad smile. “What’re you so happy about?” Jake wanted to know.
Nog led his friend to a dark corner, then revealed the cause of his happiness. Nog held the other pouch in his hand. He opened it and revealed three cloud crystals—the real ones.
“There isn’t a Fjori alive who can outcon a Ferengi,” he said proudly.
“You can’t keep them, Nog.”
Nog replaced the crystals in the pouch. “You’re right. That would be stealing.” He tossed the pouch to Jake. “We must return them—to the Fjori.”
Which is how Jake found himself reluctantly crawling behind Nog through an air duct that led to the docking ring. He agreed with Nog that they had an obligation to return the cloud crystals. He did not agree that this was the way to go about it.
But as they peered through the grill into the dimly lit docking bay, it was a little late to turn back.
Jake looked over Nog’s shoulder and saw that the docking bay was deserted, except for some activity near the airlock. There, he could see several Fjori men and women busily working on the Orak’s navigational computer module. They had removed the unit from the ship and linked it to the docking bay’s diagnostic system for testing.
Nog saw the situation as a stroke of luck. If he could get over there without being seen, he might gain access to the navigational starcharts. In his pocket was a small data recorder he had borrowed from his uncle Quark’s office.
Nog carefully removed the grill and pulled it inside the duct. The ease with which he accomplished the task informed Jake that his Ferengi friend had done this before.
Quietly, Nog slipped from the duct onto the docking bay, hiding himself behind some crates. He turned and waved for Jake to follow. Then the young Ferengi silently vanished into the shadows.
Jake lowered himself from the duct’s opening onto the hard floor, wondering just how he had been talked into this. It was easy enough to blame it on Nog, but he knew that a con artist can really only con someone who wants to be conned. Jake had wanted to visit the Fjori ship, and Nog provided a convenient excuse.
Jake took a few cautious steps, trying to remain in the shadows, then stopped. He wasn’t sure just what to do next. Walk up to the first Fjori he saw and introduce himself? Well, he asked himself, why not?
Jake touched the bulge in his pocket where he had stashed the crystals. After all, he did have a reason to be here.
But before he could take another step, he felt something cold and sharp press against the back of his neck.
“Hold it right there, gajo.”
CHAPTER 3
Jake stood for what seemed an eternity, frozen in his tracks. The tip of something cold and sharp pressed into his skin at the base of his neck. Finally the voice behind him spoke again. “What’re you doing here, gajo?”
“Ah—” Jake’s throat was dry and he had trouble making the words come out. “We’re just—ah, just returning something.”
“What would you have that belongs to the Fjori?”
Jake began to reach into his pocket. The point pressed harder, almost breaking the skin. “Ouch! Hey! I’m only going to show you.”
“Do it slowly.”
Jake complied and very, very slowly removed the pouch. He held the pouch in his right hand so that whoever was behind him could see it.
“Open it,” the voice commanded.
Carefully, so as not to upset his captor, Jake did as he was told. He opened the pouch and spilled the three cloud crystals into his left palm.
“Where did you get those?”
“Someone left them behind at Quark’s. I was only returning them.”
A hand reached out and quickly removed the crystals from Jake. “Why not keep them for yourself?”
“Because they don’t belong to me. To keep them would be stealing.”
“That’s a stupid answer … but it has the ring of truth.” The point was removed from Jake’s neck.
“You can turn around.”
Jake slowly turned. He was not sure who he expected to see, except that it was not the person standing in front him holding the thin, silver blade.
“My name is Vija.” She was his age, perhaps a year older or younger. It was hard to tell with girls. Her amber hair was cut short, as short as his own, and she was quite pleasant to look at. Not beautiful, like Dabo girls, but attractive like a fresh breeze on a warm summer afternoon. She wore one of the Fjori’s loose-fitting tunics, but even so Jake could tell she was slim and athletic.
“You’re a girl.” The words came out before Jake could stop them. He was embarrassed that he had been terrified by a girl.
Vija held up the blade and smiled. “This is as deadly in my hands as it would be in the hands of any male Fjori. There is no shame in being afraid.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” Jake started to protest, then stopped and admitted, “Yes. I was.”
“I would have been afraid, too.” Vija put the blade back into its sheath beneath her tunic, then held up the cloud crystals. “Just how did you come by these?”
Jake quickly summarized the encounter in Quark’s. He made an effort to leave out the switch by the young Fjori, but Vija understood the attempted con. “Kala. He should have known better. This could cause us a lot of trouble on the station.”
Jake handed her the pouch and watched as she replaced the crystals. He noticed that her eyes were emerald-green. “I’ll speak to my father. Explain that it was all a mistake.”
“Your father?”
“He’s Commander Sisko. He runs Deep Space Nine. I’m Jake Sisko.” He held out his hand.
Vija took his hand in a firm grasp. “Glad to meet you, Jake Sisko. I am Captain Vardk’s daughter.” She stepped back and looked at him. “You are an important person here?”
Jake blushed. “Not really. I’m just a kid. Like you.”
For a moment Jake saw a flash of anger in Vija’s eyes, then it passed. “Never call a Fjori that. Even the youngest among us does not like to be referred to as a child.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“I believe you will.” She smiled, and Jake sensed that he had passed some sort of initiation and had been accepted.
Vija put the pouch with the crystals under her tunic.
“Come. We will return these.”
Suddenly Jake realized he had totally forgotten about Nog. Where had his friend disappeared?
“Intruder!” The shout came from the direction of the Fjori ship. Jake knew it had to be Nog. He turned and saw that Vija was already on her way to the source of the commotion.
Although this would be an opportune time to slip away, Jake knew he could not desert his friend, even as he realized that Nog’s rash actions could get them both into deep trouble.
Jake arrived on the scene in time to see Nog squirming, his right ear held tightly by a Fjori engineer. Several other Fjori, attracted by the shout, had gathered in front of the diagnostic system. The young Fjori Jake had seen in Quark’s, the one Vija called Kala, was not so gently removing something from Nog’s hand.
“It’s a palm-coder. The Ferengi was trying to steal our starmaps.”
What Jake had feared had happened. Nog had been caught red-handed trying to download data from the Fjori navigational computer. He wasn’t sure how his Ferengi friend was going to get out of this spot.
At that moment, Kala noticed Jake in the background and pointed at him. “There’s another. Get him.”
Two of the Ferengi stepped forward, but Vija quickly moved between them and Jake. “Stop. He’s a friend.”
“Friend?” Kala snarled. “He’s not one of us. What’s he doing here?”
Vija held out the pouch. “He was returning something that you lost.”
Taken aback, Kala pulled out the pouch he had retrieved from Quark’s and opened it to reveal worthless glass beads. Angrily he pointed at Jake. “He stole my crystals.”
“Then why would he take the trouble to return them?” Vija replied.
“Good question.”
Jake recognized the commanding voice of the Orak’s captain. Jrl Vardk emerged from the airlock into the docking bay, and the other Fjori stepped aside as he approached. He took both pouches from Kala, who did not protest, and examined their contents.
“The Fjori are mistrusted enough without your giving people another reason to suspect our intentions.” Vardk placed the two pouches in his pocket. “I will return these when we are back in space.”
“Yes, Captain.” Kala meekly stepped out of the way as Vardk approached Jake.
“We meet again, young Sisko. I thank you for returning that which Kala—ah, misplaced.”
“I was returning them, too.” Nog seized the opportunity to break free of the Fjori who held him and rushed over to join Jake.
“He tried to steal our starmaps,” the Fjori engineer insisted.
“That’s right, Captain. He tried to link into our computer with this.” Kala handed Nog’s palm-coder to Vardk.
The captain gave the palm-coder to the engineer. “Did the boy access anything?”
The engineer turned on the palm-coder, made some adjustments to the controls. “I don’t think so.”
Vardk turned to Nog. “Is there anything important on that coder?”
Nog hesitated. Jake nudged him in the ribs. “Tell the truth, Nog.”
“No, sir,” Nog said.
Vardk turned to the engineer. “Erase the memory. Make certain that nothing can be retrieved.”
“Aye, Captain. And then?”
“Then return it to the boy.”
Kala started to say something, then thought better of it and shut up. But another of the Fjori, a grizzled man with steel-gray hair and a thin scar on his cheek, stepped forward. “If you please, sir?”
“What is it, Trax?”
“It’s the Ferengi. He has seen the screens. He’s an outsider and by Fjori law he must be judged.”
“I didn’t see anything,” Nog protested.
“Probably true,” said the engineer as he returned the palm-coder to Vardk, who gave it back to Nog.
“We can’t chance it,” Trax argued. “Fjori law is plain on this.”
“Yes, it is.” Vardk thought for a moment. “But we are in Bajoran territory and on a Federation-run space station. It seems we have something of a diplomatic problem here.” Vardk ran his fingers through his thick beard, looked over at Jake and Nog, then came to a decision.
Less than two hours later a conference took place in Ops. Major Kira represented the Bajoran government and Commander Sisko spoke for the Federation. Odo was present in his role as Deep Space Nine’s security chief.
Captain Vardk described the situation, while Jake and Nog stood in a corner of the commander’s office next to Kala.
When he had finished, Vardk set a half bar of gold-pressed latinum on the desk. “This should cover the losses of the Bulgani miner.”
“You’re being very generous, Captain Vardk,” Sisko said.
Vardk looked over at Kala. “It will be taken out of Kala’s share of the ship’s earnings. A lesson that will, I hope, prove fruitful.”
Jake happened to glance over at Kala in time to catch an icy stare directed at him and Nog. It was apparent that he blamed them for his troubles.
“What about these two?” Commander Sisko indicated Jake and Nog, and while he wasn’t glaring at them like Kala, it was equally obvious that he was not pleased. Jake had seen that stern expression before, and knew that it spelled serious trouble.
“No real harm has been done,” Vardk said. “I can understand the boys’ curiosity.”
“But Docking Bay Seven was placed off limits,” Odo argued. “And they are both old enough to obey the rules.”
“True,” Sisko ag
reed. “Although Jake’s intent was to return Kala’s crystals, he should have left that to Odo. I will make certain that both he and Nog are properly disciplined.”
Kira stood up and stretched. “That seems to settle matters.”
“Yes,” Sisko agreed.
Captain Vardk stood up. “Our repairs have been completed, and we shall be departing Deep Space Nine within the hour. There will be no further opportunity for incidents.”
“I trust your next visit here will not require another diplomatic conference,” Sisko said as he rose to shake hands with the Fjori captain. Then he looked over at Jake and Nog. “I want to see both of you in my quarters in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” Jake said. He nudged Nog. They left the room.
As they came outside into the main area of Ops, Kira stepped up beside them. “A word of caution,” she whispered. Both Jake and Nog admired the Bajoran major, and any advice she gave them was well worth their attention. “The Fjori are a very secretive race. Captain Vardk is stretching things to let you two off so easily.”
“I swear I didn’t see their starmaps,” Nog said, not adding that it wasn’t because he hadn’t tried.
“Maybe not, but the Fjori don’t know that for sure. While they won’t disobey their captain openly, I suggest that the two of you keep a very low profile until the Orak has left Deep Space Nine.”
It was at that moment that Captain Vardk and Kala came out of Commander Sisko’s office. The angry glance that Kala threw at Jake and Nog in passing made Major Kira’s words ring particularly true.
There were not a lot of people on the Promenade anymore. Jake and Nog walked slowly, lingering in front of the shops as they made their way toward the habitat ring where the Siskos’ apartment was located. Neither boy wanted to be late, but neither did they want to arrive for their punishment before the appointed time.
“What do you think he’ll make us do?” Nog asked.
“Whatever it is, I guarantee that we won’t like it,” Jake answered. “It’s bad enough that he’s commander, but he’ll feel he has to act like a father as well. That’s when it gets really bad.”