With a slight flourish, the dealer turned over the next three cards. Each card snapped as it hit the table: the three of hearts, the nine of hearts, and the ten of clubs. Garak pulled his cards closer to his chest. With the eight and the jack, he needed only one more card for a straight, but the two hearts gave another player an equally good shot at a flush. He was doing well enough. He would see how the other players bet.
Cynthia Jones folded. Nam checked, Klar raised, and the remaining players called. Nam seemed to have lost his fear as he tossed in the requisite chips. Suddenly the attention was off Garak and onto the cards themselves.
Garak was getting cold—and it wasn’t just the room temperature. Nam was not acting as he had before. Sometime in the last two hands he had gained an uncharacteristic confidence. Ferengi were difficult players in the best of times, but Ferengi players in a Ferengi hosted game were always suspect. Especially if they changed their behavior.
Still, the explanation could be a simple one. Perhaps Nam’s cards had improved. Or perhaps he had finally forgotten how much money sat before him, and had gotten lost in the game. Garak would bide his time and see what happened in subsequent hands.
With a smoothness that came from years of practice, the dealer turned over the next card: the queen of hearts. Garak felt a slight rush of excitement. He had his straight, but three hearts were showing. Anyone with two hearts in hand would have a flush. The straight might not be enough to beat it. When the bet came around, he pushed it by two red chips—a cautious bet, but one that signaled the other players that he would stay for the showdown.
Then Nam shoved half of his remaining chips into the pot. A small fortune in gold-pressed latinum. The chill that had been building in Garak finally overwhelmed him. Either the Ferengi played full-tilt poker, betting everything when he had a spectacular hand and whining when he didn’t, or he had information he shouldn’t.
But there was nothing Garak could do. He leaned back in his chair to take a moment to decide if he was going to call the bet or fold.
He didn’t have to decide.
“You cheated,” Klar said, his voice soft and low and very mean.
“Ferengi do not cheat,” Nam said.
Garak placed his cards together, hid them in his hand, and rested his hand on the table. Then he scooted away from the two arguing players.
“Well, you do,” Klar said. His gaze had that flatness again, the flatness that Garak had seen on only one other face, in the eyes of a Cardassian about to murder a prisoner.
“I have never cheated in my life!” Nam said.
“And you lie as well,” Klar said.
Quark almost materialized beside the table. “Do we have a problem here?”
“You allow cheats in this game,” Klar said.
“I don’t cheat,” Nam said, looking up at Quark. “You know that. I am a good, honest player who simply bet too much for this hu-mon’s tastes.”
“He is cheating us,” Klar said.
Quark looked at Klar. Garak recognized the assessing gaze. Quark had used it before to figure out how to deal with unsatisfied customers in the bar. “What proof do you have of this accusation?” Quark asked, but his tone was not belligerent—a relief, as far as Garak was concerned.
“He switched cards. You might want to search him.”
Garak set his cards down. He pushed his chair back farther. He did not want to be close to this fight.
“I did not switch cards. No one would be so stupid as to do that in your tournament, Quark. I would never cheat like that,” Nam said. “I—”
Quark snatched Nam’s cards from his hands and studied them without letting anyone else see. Then he glanced at the cards faceup on the table. He set Nam’s cards facedown, and patted Nam, making Nam turn his sleeves inside out. Quark shrugged and looked at Klar. “I see no evidence of cheating,” Quark said.
Klar’s expression did not change, but the room got colder.
“Did you see any cheating?” Quark asked the dealer.
She glanced at Klar before answering. Klar studied her like a Slovian water beast studied its prey. The dealer seemed unaffected. She shook her head no.
Quark bobbed at Klar, the Ferengi conciliatory gesture. “Sorry,” Quark said. “But the hand must stand. If there are further problems, contact me. Finish play.”
He disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. Garak pushed his chair back to the table.
Klar looked at the overlarge pot, then at Nam. Klar folded. “You will get yours, Ferengi.”
Nam cackled, and tapped his bet, bouncing in his chair like an excited child. The Romulans folded, the Irits folded, and so did Garak. Nam pulled the pot toward him, his broad little face shining with greed. He had doubled his winnings with one hand.
Garak watched him. Nam had bought the pot, but it felt as if he had bought something else too. Despite the stack of chips in front of Nam, Garak did not envy him.
Not at all.
CHAPTER 18
KIRA’S HANDS WERE SHAKING. Her body was humming. She felt as if she had to keep moving or she would wilt with exhaustion. Yet at the same time, she was braced for another problem—any problem.
She focused on the communications console, making sure that O’Brien’s repairs had everything on-line. She still couldn’t tell if long-range communications were working. But she sent an encoded message to Starfleet, explaining the situation, and putting in a request for help.
Then she paused. Commander Sisko was gone from the bridge. O’Brien was swearing over the engineering console. Dax’s fingers danced on the science console’s pad, as she ran diagnostic after diagnostic. Carter pushed hair out of her face as she frowned at the operations table.
The commander had told Kira to contact Litna, but Kira had put it off. Captain Litna had commanded a wing of Bajoran freedom fighters for years, conducting successful raids on the Cardassian strongholds. When Kira was a child, she had met Litna near the fountains and had been in awe of her ever since. Commander Sisko’s handling of Litna made Kira want to crawl under the communications board. Sometimes the man didn’t understand the fine points of Bajoran diplomacy.
Kira took a deep breath and hailed Litna’s ship. At first no one responded. Kira bit her lower lip. Had something happened? Had the Cardassians hurt Litna? Was Litna correct? Was this all a plot?
At the second hail, Litna appeared on the main viewing screen. All activity in Ops stopped. Dax looked at Kira with a measuring gaze. Kira felt her cheeks get hot. She left the communications board and walked to Sisko’s usual position in front of the operations table.
“You hailed me, Major?” Litna’s tone had a trace of sarcasm, emphasis on the word Major.
Kira swallowed. “Yes, Captain. Commander Sisko wanted me to clarify a few things—”
“Smart man,” Litna said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Did he want you to speak woman to woman or Bajoran to Bajoran?”
Kira let out the breath she had been holding. “Captain, I asked to talk to you, since you didn’t listen to him. You persist in believing that the Cardassians are attacking Bajor. They’re not.”
“Really, Major? Then what have we been experiencing?”
“Look,” Kira said, clasping her hands behind her back. She had never encountered anyone so stubborn. “There is some subspace activity going on that is affecting us, you, the Cardassians, and anything else in the area. A Ferengi ship broke up yesterday afternoon under the strength of this—”
“And you do not know what this phenomenon is.” Litna crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Could it, in fact, be a Cardassian ploy?”
“You think they would destroy their own fleet?”
“My equipment does not show a destroyed fleet. A few ships are having problems, perhaps, but that’s common.” Litna leaned closer to the screen. “Tell me, Major, what is wrong with the Galor-class warship I see in Bajoran space?”
“Nothing, but—”
“You’re wrong, Major.” Aga
in, Litna had a cold smile. “What is wrong is that the Cardassian warship is in Bajoran space. And the Federation—who have vowed to protect us—are doing nothing. What’s worse, Major Kira Nerys, liaison between the Bajoran government and the Federation, is making apologies for both the Federation and the Cardassian ship. Unless you have forgotten, Major, you represent Bajor.”
Kira felt as if Litna had knocked the wind out of her. “I haven’t forgotten, Captain. I just—”
“Good,” Litna said. “Then solve this. For Bajor.”
The screen went blank. Kira took a deep breath. Everyone in Ops was looking at her.
“For what it’s worth, Major,” O’Brien said, “she didn’t try to understand.”
Kira gripped the operations table. A few words from Captain Litna and she felt ten years old again. Kira wasn’t betraying Bajor. Captain Litna wasn’t listening. “Maybe I should contact her again.” Kira looked down at the table. A handful of lights still indicated problems. “Try to reason with her.”
“You won’t be able to convince her, Major,” O’Brien said. “Trust me.”
“I think,” Dax said, “we’re better off solving whatever it is that is causing this. Then no one will believe they’re under attack.”
Kira nodded. They were right. All that was important at the moment was stopping the attacks, if they were attacks.
Later she would defend herself. And Litna would be very sorry she had ever doubted her.
CHAPTER 19
SCHOOL THAT MORNING had seemed too long, especially with Mrs. O’Brien talking about the children’s obligations during a crisis. Children had to take care of themselves and know the safety features of the station. But they also had to remain close to home so that their parents could find them in an emergency.
Jake still hadn’t followed that instruction. He had meant to return to his quarters, but Nog wanted to go back to Quark’s. Jake didn’t really want to hang out by the bar, but he didn’t want to be alone either. Since the lights were still flickering and the environmental controls were out and the station had rocked for a third time, Jake knew his father wouldn’t be in their quarters either.
Ever since they had escaped the Saratoga just before the Borg destroyed it, Jake had a restlessness in a crisis. He had to keep moving.
But he didn’t want to be moving here, either. He and Nog stood outside the storage door with Quark’s name all over it. Nog was double-checking the signals for the fifth time. Jake was afraid that Nog would push open the door and barge in.
“What are we doing?” Jake asked. “We already figured out where the signals were going.”
“Don’t you want to watch? I sure do,” Nog said.
“Not from here,” Jake said. “If anyone is inside, we’ll get in real trouble.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Nog said. He put the device he had been using back in his pocket. “But I really want to know what’s happening. I know! Come on!”
Jake hesitated for just a moment. In his quarters he could do his homework and listen to music. Out here he and Nog could get caught or worse, they could get trapped somewhere. His father would never find him.
“Come on!” Nog said.
Jake followed, tucking his homework padd under his arm. He would go along for a few minutes and then he would leave. Maybe he would be able to convince Nog to teach him how to play poker—in Jake’s quarters.
They stopped at the edge of the Promenade. Nog took out the device and frowned. “Look!” he said.
Jake looked. Instead of glowing red, the screen was bleeping. “What does that mean?”
“There are two sets of signals. One of them goes to the storage room, but one of them goes farther down the corridor. It’s strange.”
That caught Jake’s attention. “Two sets of signals?”
Nog nodded. “Is that storage room just a decoy?”
“I don’t know,” Nog said. “But I’m going to find out.”
“Jake!”
Jake closed his eyes. His father. He had never expected his father here. Jake turned and opened his eyes. “Hi, Dad.”
“I thought I told you to be in our quarters when things were wrong at the station.”
“I was going there,” Jake said, his voice trailing off. He hadn’t been there yet, and the schoolroom was closer to their quarters than he was right now.
Nog stood beside him, arms pressed against his side. The device had disappeared, probably into a pocket. Jake’s father looked exhausted. He hadn’t shaved and his uniform was rumpled. Jake hadn’t seen his dad look like that in a long time.
“You’re a long way from our quarters,” his dad said.
“I know.” Jake looked at his feet. Then his gaze caught his homework padd. “But we had school this morning, and Nog and I were going to get a little something to eat in the Replimat.”
Jake’s dad glanced around. “Well, all right. Maybe for a few minutes. But do go back. I would like to know where you are.”
Jake bit his lower lip. “Are you going home to stay for a while?”
“Afraid not. I have some things to check on in Quark’s. Then I’m going home to shower and shave,” his father said. “Then I have to get back to Ops.”
“Oh,” Jake said. If his father had been going directly to their quarters, Jake would have gone along. Then he would have told him about the cheating. In fact, he could now. “Dad?”
“Yes, son?”
“You know about the game in Quark’s?”
Sisko sighed and nodded. “That’s one of the reasons I’m going there.”
Nog grabbed Jake’s arm, just tight enough to warn him. Jake couldn’t say anything in front of his friend. “Can I come with you?”
“I’m afraid Quark’s is not a place I want you to go,” his father said. “Especially right now.”
“Okay,” Jake said. He couldn’t keep the disappointment from his voice. Maybe he would go to the Replimat and then home. He did have a lot to do. “I’ll see you later, then.”
His dad squeezed his shoulder.
“Jake!” Nog said. “I forgot my padd upstairs.”
Jake glanced at Nog. He hadn’t carried a homework padd since the Nagus’s last visit. Jake sighed. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s get it and then go to the Replimat.”
Nog started up the stairs into the Promenade. Jake followed. He stopped halfway up the steps and looked down. His father was walking slowly past the shops, surveying the entire area. Always the commander, always seeing what was going on. Maybe Jake should have told him about the strange signals. But maybe his father already knew.
“Come on!” Nog said. He was already up the stairs by the access portal. Jake sighed. He went up the remaining stairs and hurried over. Nog was opening the portal.
“You coming?” he asked.
Jake peered over the stairs. His father was looking inside Odo’s closed office and frowning. “I guess so,” Jake said.
“Well, better do it now. You wouldn’t want your father to catch us.” He crawled inside. Jake followed and reached for the portal. It would only be for a few minutes. And then he would go home.
No matter what.
CHAPTER 20
IT AMAZES ME,” said Berlinghoff Rasmussen, his voice blaring over the murmured conversation, “the way some things disappear over the centuries and others remain.”
Bashir sighed and stacked his chips. Rasmussen, a lanky, balding man with a commanding voice, seemed to believe he had the duty to entertain the entire table. Bashir would have preferred quiet conversation with Sarlak, the Vulcan who sat beside him.
“I mean, take poker. A human game that has spread all over the galaxy. My ancestors played it, for god’s sake, and since I’m at least two centuries older than anyone else here—”
“You should play a much wiser game than the rest of us,” the Bajoran named Pera snapped. He sat beside Rasmussen and seemed as put out by Rasmussen’s constant conversation as Bashir was.
Rasmussen wasn’t a bad sort.
He was, from what Bashir could gather, a bit of a con artist who had arrived on the Enterprise in a time machine a few years ago, claiming to be from the future, when he was in fact from the past.
He never said, but Bashir deduced that the time machine had been stolen. Rasmussen had obliquely referred to the fine treatment on twenty-fourth-century rehab colonies. He had to have stayed in a few to know that.
“Games of chance exist in most developed cultures,” Sarlak said. He templed his fingers and watched as the dealer shuffled.
“Even on Vulcan?” asked Haurk, the Ferengi who sat on Bashir’s left. His tone implied that such a thing was unheard of.
“Vulcan abandoned such pleasures many centuries ago,” said a Romulan from the next table.
Sarlak ignored the comment. “Our culture enjoys studying many things about the universe,” he said. “Game theory is one of them. Which is why I’m here. I specialize in games of constantly shifting odds, such as poker.”
“What I have been wondering is how you manage to bluff,” Rasmussen said. “I thought Vulcans never bluffed.”
“Really,” Bashir said. “That is a tasteless question. You’re asking Sarlak to explain his betting strategy.”
Sarlak put his hand on Bashir’s arm. “No, he is asking an important theoretical problem that has bothered Vulcan games theorists for a long time. While it is true that Vulcans do not bluff, neither does anyone else in poker.”
“Knock it off, Pops,” Pera said. “Everyone bluffs in poker.”
Sarlak nodded. “That is the poker parlance, yes. If you consider bluffing to be a claim that you will perform an action you do not intend to, then you are correct, Vulcans do not bluff. But, in poker, bluffing has a different meaning. Players play to win. Poker players use the bluff as a strategy for winning. In poker, you win by claiming that you can win and having other players believe you. Or not believe you. Since the action is understood by all to be a potential ruse, it is not really a ruse at all.”
Bashir grinned and leaned back. “I think I got that,” he said.
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