DREADNOUGHT: A Star Trek, Deep Space Nine novel in which the DS9 crew deals with the arrival of the richest human in the galaxy and battles a rogue attack fleet.

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STAR TREK - DEEP SPACE NINE

by Wayne Schmidt

latest version, 30 Sept, 2001

69,000 words

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book was written for not-for sale, not-for-profit, purposes, and as such, does not intend to infringe on any legally-held rights, including, but not limited to, those held by Criterion Press, Viacom, Paramount, or the estate of Gene Roddenberry.

 Please don't use "copy-and-paste" or save this story for reading off-line as a text-only file. Both of those techniques erase important formating like italics and line spacing controls and will make the story unreadable. Instead, please use "save as Web page, complete [*.htm, *.html]." Thank you.

 
If you'd prefer reading this story with black letters on a white background, send me an email and I'll be happy to send a copy to you.

This is an updated version of the story published by Criterion Press under the title Dreadnaught. It has benefited from an additional beta-reading by Una McCormick and two rewrites. I hope you enjoy it.

Foreword

The events in this novel take place during the fifth season, after "Children of Time," but before "Blaze of Glory."

DREADNOUGHT

Chapter 1

OUT OF THE DARK

"We surrender! I repeat! To attacking force, we-"

A booted foot kicked open the communication shack's door. Dar Abell spun away from his microphone as the sheet-metal door slammed into the wall. Settlement leader Jal Paturin stepped halfway into the shack and braced himself against the door's grimy frame. Through the gap between Jal's gaunt form and the edge of the door, the radioman watched as rapid-fire detonations sent fiery gouts of prime farmland high into the night sky.

"That's a waste of time," Jal yelled. "They're not interested in surrender, just killing. Send out a general mayday to anyone who can hear us and-" An explosion blew rocks and smoke through the doorway, knocking him against the far wall. Rubble clattered off his back as he staggered to his feet. "-and put it on automatic repeat. Once that's done, get to the caves."

"What about the livestock?"

"Dead. Most of them. A ship blasted the corral with a thermal disrupter on low power." He forced a dry swallow. "That was ten minutes ago and some of the animals are still alive."

Dar punched an auto-repeating program into his console. "Who's doing this to us?"

Jal shook his head. "Can't tell. Their first salvo took out our sensors." A near miss shook the building. Gritty dust showered down out of the building's rough-hewn rafters and onto his coarse brown hair. "They blasted their way down out of the night without warning and-"

A man with the side of his face charred from disrupter fire staggered to the door. He made it halfway across the threshold, then slipped and crashed to the floor. Jal dove to his side. "Blate! What is it?"

The man's eyelids fluttered. "The school...."

"What about it?"

Jal shook him as the man’s eyes began to glaze. They cleared, then closed tight against the memory. "They hit it with the same thing they used on the livestock. The children were outside, running for the caves. I...." Blate's chest collapsed. Jal's hand tightened on the dead man's shoulder.

"The program's set," Dar said.

Jal's reddened eyes glared out of dark sockets. "Forget it. No one could arrive in time to help. Tell our people to grab their weapons and head for the woods. When these monsters land we'll take out as many as we can before they finish us off." Jal pulled a phaser from a holster clipped to his belt and stumbled out the door.

Dar grimaced as more concussions shot splinters of pain through his eardrums. Outside, anguished cries filled the air between explosions.

He quickly relayed Jal's message over the public address system as the detonations grew louder. Dar stood to leave, wavered, then stabbed a finger into a large red pad and yelled into the microphone. "Mayday! Mayday! To any ship in the sector, this is Belug Four." A blast shook the building. The radioman choked on dust. "Our settlement's under attack. We need immediate assistance!"

Another explosion ripped the door off its frame. Dar fell to the floor clutching the microphone in both hands and screamed into it over the shriek of an incoming missile. "Please! This is Bel-"

Chapter 2

ARRIVAL

Captain Benjamin Sisko's voice thundered over wailing alarms as he dove down the short flight of steps leading to Ops. "Turn that noise down!" The screaming sirens cut to a rumble. "Is it the Jem'Hadar?"

"Unknown, sir," Lieutenant Terl answered. "All we have so far is a massive subspace disturbance near the station. It triggered the auto-defense program."

Subtle shocks echoed along deck plates as rapid-fire torpedo turrets slammed into firing positions.

Terl studied his console’s readouts. "It's a ship, sir. Twenty thousand meters off main docking pylon three. Just coming out of warp."

Sisko’s brow furrowed. "That far away it shouldn't have tripped the alarms. What is it?"

"Unknown. The mass sensor’s out of calibration. The reading doesn't make sense."

"One of Chief O'Brien's systems out of cal? I doubt it." Sisko leaned forward; his strong, brown fingers gripped the railing around Ops. "Put the ship on the main viewer, magnification one hundred. Let's see what we've got."

The stars filling the forward viewscreen faded into a solid, slate-gray wall. The men traded questioning looks. "Back it up," Sisko ordered.

"Magnification seventy-five."

The screen shimmered. A hint of curvature bowed the wall towards them. Terl tapped the control a third time. "Magnification fifty." A second shimmer tightened the curvature and brought a cylindrical termination to the wall near the screen's lower-right corner.

"Again," Sisko said.

Terl reduced the magnification to twenty-five. The reduction finally produced the pulling-away effect they'd been expecting as the image shrank in size.  Tendons in Sisko's jaw drew taut. Even at this low magnification the ship stretched from one side of the screen to the other.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

Terl shook his head. "Sorry, Captain. The calibration's also off on the magnification control. No ship could be that large. Scanning registry database." His fingers danced over the control panel. He paused while the computer completed its search. A light blinked red, bringing his head up sharply. "Origin unknown."

Muscles tensed under Sisko's uniform. "Yellow alert."

"The Defiant is already running parallel to her. Wait! It's broadcasting a civilian Federation identification code...and hailing us."

"Put it on."

"This is Wilson McDermot, captain of the Federation ship Aeneid, requesting permission to speak to Captain Benjamin Sisko."

The rock-hard muscles stretching Sisko's uniform relaxed. "It's okay, Lieutenant. I know who it is. Make the connection." He rounded the end of the railing and gave his uniform a quick jerk downward. "This is Captain Sisko. Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Mister McDermot."

A forty-year-old face split by an impish grin replaced the ship's image. The man's green eyes sparkled under a confusion of fiery orange hair that challenged the screen's color-simulation program. Technical panels behind McDermot's head identified his location as the Aeneid's control room. "Captain Sisko! Thank you. Thank you. Most kind. Request permission to park near your station for a couple of weeks while I refit my ship."

"Permission granted, and let me say it's a pleasure to have you here. I've heard many stories-"

McDermot’s bushy red eyebrows shot up. "Oh, so you've heard about some of my little projects. I'm flattered. This," he stretched his arms wide, "is my latest. You'll have to come over for a tour."

"I'd enjoy that, Mister McDermot. Your ship is unusual, to say the least."

McDermot's eyes swept the Aeneid's control room. "Yes, she is. And Captain," he fixed Sisko with a stare, "you haven't seen anything yet." He rocked back with a beguiling smile. "Come over, anytime."

"I'll let you know when. Sisko out." The screen faded to the normal sprinkling of stars. Sisko turned back to Terl. "Let’s run a check on the sensors." He watched the tall lanky lieutenant's hands blur over the science station's controls. His hands used to move that fast, twenty years ago. Terl reminded Sisko of himself early in his own career: eager, confident and a little brash. Since his son, Jake, had decided against a career in Starfleet, he often thought of Terl as- No point in that.

A panel flashed green, signaling the end of the diagnostic. Terl ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "Everything checks out. I can’t explain it. "

"I’ll have O’Brien take a look when he gets here." Sisko started to turn toward his office.

"Sir? Who's Wilson McDermot?"

"Wilson McDermot is-"

The thud of the turbolift locking into place cut him off.

"-the richest entity in three quadrants," an unfamiliar feminine voice finished for him.

The men twisted around to face the new arrival. A short, plump senior lieutenant with shoulder-length brown hair marched off the turbolift and snapped to exaggerated attention. "Lieutenant Samantha Skarn reporting for duty, sir."

"Samantha!" Sisko cried. "What on Earth-"

Skarn beamed a smile at him. "Shouldn't that be what on Bajor?" She reached over the railing and pumped Sisko's hand. "I'm in a holding pattern for an assignment on the Potemkin. Dad sent me out here to work until they're ready for me."  She handed him a PADD. "Here are my orders."

He took the PADD. "How is the Admiral?" The turbolift dropped away with a hydraulic sigh.

 "Enjoying his assignment at the Academy, and getting fat thanks to you."

Sisko's eyebrows arched. "Me?"

"You were the one who introduced him to your father's restaurant. Dad's become a weekend regular there."

Sisko noticed Terl's eyes shifting back and forth between them. "Lieutenant, this is Admiral Skarn's daughter and a very old friend." He scanned the PADD. "It looks like she'll be here several weeks. She's a science officer."

Terl nodded at her. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant."

She leaned over the railing toward him. "Why, thank you. Care to show me around the station?"

Sisko dropped a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back. "Easy, Lieutenant. Terl's already spoken for."

Skarn faked a pout. "Pity."

Terl swallowed. "Uh...we were talking about Wilson McDermot."

Sisko glanced over at him. "Like the lady said, he's the richest man in the galaxy."

"And," Chief O'Brien added as he and Odo stepped off the newly-returned lift, "the most eccentric."

"Shiftiest would be more accurate," Odo said. "What brought his name up?"

"He's here," Sisko said. "Just arrived, commanding a monster of a ship named the Aeneid." The turbolift dropped away again.

"Chief," Terl said. "Both the mass sensor and magnification controls are out of calibration. Look at these readings."

"Two of my systems off cal? Not likely." O'Brien strode over to his station and ran a quick test sequence. "Both calibrations read well within tolerances."

Sisko raised an brow at Terl. "What did I tell you?"

O'Brien narrowed his eyes at Sisko, then turned to Terl. "Show me what you've got."

"This, sir. Display two-baker." O'Brien studied his panel, frowned, then bent closer and scratched behind an ear. "And this," Terl said, centering Aeneid's image on the screen.

O’Brien gave McDermot’s ship a jaundiced look. "Granted, it's not the most attractive ship I've ever seen, kind of a long tin can, but so what?"

"The range is twenty thousand meters, sir. We're at twenty-five magnification."

"Twenty thou...that would make the ship over a thousand meters long. Ridiculous." O'Brien began a slow sequence of gentle taps on his panel. He shook his head. "Everything checks out. McDermot's ship really is that-"

"-Big." Sisko said stepping toward the door to his wardroom. "Shall we adjourn to the conference room? It's past time for the staff meeting and as much fun as it is to speculate about Mister McDermot's vessel, we still have a station to run."

The turbolift returned again, disgorging a third load of passengers. Major Kira Nerys marched off first, her short auburn hair bouncing with the energy of her stride. Cadet Nog followed with his back rigidly straight. His hard, black Ferengi eyes shifted left and right, seeing who on the command staff had beaten him to Ops. A massive shadow engulfed him. Everyone edged sideways as Lieutenant Commander Worf plowed past Nog toward the conference room. Doctor Julian Bashir left the turbolift last, seemingly dragged toward the conference room in the Klingon's wake.

Worf nodded a curt salute to Sisko as he stormed past him and into the conference room. Sisko, the only other man on Deep Space Nine tall enough to stand eye-to-eye with the Klingon, returned the gesture. As Kira and Odo stepped by, they appeared to go out of their way to avoid looking at each other. Sisko’s eyes tightened on the pair. What's wrong with them?

Skarn waited at the railing. Sisko nodded at her to join the meeting. "I’m assigning you to work with me, Lieutenant, so you better sit in on this."

She inclined her head toward the main screen as she passed him. "Looks like the morning's off to an interesting start."

"If you think that's interesting, wait for the staff meeting." His expression darkened. "I only wish my news was as positive as McDermot's arrival." 

Chapter 3

SISKO BREAKS THE RULES

Four command staff officers, Lieutenant Skarn, and Nog sat around the wardroom’s conference table. Doctor Bashir stood by his chair detailing the previous week's activities in the infirmary. Captain Sisko listened with his back to the table.

Bashir studied the mahogany gleam off Sisko's head a moment before finishing his report. "In conclusion, I'm happy to state that everything is at, or above, Starfleet standards in the Infirmary."

"Uh-huh," Sisko murmured as he toyed with his baseball.

Bashir glanced around the table. Skarn threw Kira a questioning look; Kira shrugged back at her. Worf, Nog, and Odo sat impassive. O'Brien grinned and nodded encouragement. A smile tickled the corners of the doctor's mouth. "Of course, yesterday's power failure did blow out half of the primary bioscanner's circuitry."

"Hmm." Sisko’s eyes stayed focused on the ball in his hands.

Everyone smiled except Worf. Bashir's grin broadened. "The only other minor item was this morning's arrival of five hundred Balduk warriors who've claimed half of the habitat ring as their permanent residence."

Sisko nodded.

Stifled laughter reached an explosive level. Even Odo put a hand to his mouth. "The upshot of this is that the carnage resulting from unavoidable battles between the warriors and civilian personnel requires the medical staff to be tripled-"

"You can't have any more people," Sisko's rumbling voice cut the doctor off. Bashir melted into his chair. Sisko swung around, carefully placing the baseball on the table. "Very amusing, Doctor, and justified. I apologize for my inattentiveness. As important as your briefing is I'm afraid something more critical has me preoccupied."

He examined each suddenly serious face, stopping at Skarn's. "Although you're a newcomer here, Lieutenant, I'm confident I can count on your discretion regarding what I'm about to say."  He gathered himself. "I've made a decision that may not sit well with some of you. We're going to break some Starfleet rules."

A chill passed through the officers.

Sisko turned to his right. "Mister Worf, what is your assessment of the station's ability to survive a full-out attack?"

Worf flashed a brooding look in O'Brien's direction. "That would depend on-"

"The bottom line, Commander," Sisko said.

Worf straightened and stared directly at O'Brien. "Nonexistent, sir."

O'Brien jumped to his feet. "Now just one minute. I'll have you know-"

"Calm down, Chief." Sisko said. "He didn't mean it personally."

O’Brien threw himself back into his chair. "I take anything said against this station as personal, particularly criticisms about our defensive capabilities after all the overtime they took to install. The multiple-pump phaser arrays alone would do credit to a Galaxy-class warship. When teamed with the heavy photon cannons-"

Worf cut him off. "Impressive...but impotent."

"Impotent!"

"Give him a chance, Worf." Sisko ordered.

"You've done an outstanding job with Deep Space Nine's defense system," Worf said. "Any more firepower and the recoil would tear the station apart. But for all this firepower it is still a fixed emplacement and therefore doomed in the face of a mobile attack."

"My assessment exactly," Sisko said before O'Brien could object. "How would you correct this situation?"

"The only defense against one mobile force is another mobile force."

"There's the Defiant."

"As Defiant's captain I'm proud to say she is the most powerful ship in the sector."

Sisko raised his eyebrows. "But?"

Worf ground his irregular teeth. "She is only one ship. Even the greatest battle craft can be overcome if it doesn't have the support of back-up ships."

"The solution?"

A glint came into Worf’s eyes. "A fleet. One of our own."

"I agree. Why don't we have one?"

Impatience deepened Worf’s voice. "Because Starfleet is commanded by bureaucrats instead of-"

Sisko raised a calming hand. "Gently, Mister Worf. Remember, they're paying the bills." He frowned. "But you may be right. I've petitioned them three times for a defense fleet."  The officers traded glances around the table. "I didn't mention this before because I knew nothing would come of it. In their eyes, we’re too remote to justify the investment in manpower and materiel. I have to go through Admiral Jorgenson and he refuses to consider it."

"Do we really need a fleet in residence?" Odo asked. "Starfleet sent one to rescue us before."

Sisko turned to him. "Yes, and we were lucky there was enough of the station left to be worth rescuing by the time they got here." He snapped around to face Worf. "What's the fastest Starfleet can get a rescue fleet here?"

"Without advance warning...five days."

"And how long would it take the Jem'Hadar to launch an attack?"

Worf worked his jaw. "Because of our proximity to the wormhole, five minutes."

Sisko's stare raked the officers. "There you have it. We need a fleet and Starfleet won't supply one. I've decided our only option is-"

"Build your own?" Kira broke in. "That’s impossible. I can’t imagine how many regulations you’d be breaking."

Worf's eyes blazed over a hungry smile. "Seventeen." His chair creaked as he rotated his muscular bulk toward Sisko. "How do you intend to do it?"

"I'm not," Sisko said. "All of you are." Everyone stiffened. "Each of you knows someone who owes you a favor and has access to the resources we need. I'm asking you to call in those debts. Get your contacts to contribute to our defense, preferably by donating ships."

Odo laced his long fingers together and settled them on his lap. "Captain, isn't this a bit aggressive? Everything's been quiet for months."

Sisko turned worried eyes on his security chief. "That's a lie Starfleet's promulgated." The wardroom became quiet enough for Sisko to hear Terl tapping control pads out in Ops. "In the last three months the Jem'Hadar have sent eight sorties into Federation space. Two resulted in weapons fire."

"How serious?" Worf asked.

"The cruiser Agamemnon was all but destroyed, fifteen dead, seventy-four injured. Worse still was the attack on Belug Four last night. Admiral Jorgenson called this morning with the news. The entire settlement's gone. Wiped out. The Jem'Hadar struck without warning. After blasting the settlement from the air they landed and used handguns to kill every man, woman, and child. Jorgenson said they murdered three hundred civilians."

Around the table, expressions clouded with images of the attack; Worf's burned with an angry fire. "When do we retaliate?"

"We don't," Sisko said. "Under the articles of the latest treaty Belug Four is...was, outside Federation space. The settlers stayed there despite Starfleet's warnings."

"But to ignore such an attack-" Kira began.

"-Was considered prudent by Starfleet Command," Sisko finished for her.

"Prudent," O'Brien snorted.

"Yes, Chief. Prudent. Starfleet's nervous about doing anything in this sector that might incite the Dominion into escalating hostilities. Besides, there's the Cardassian connection."

Heads turned toward Major Kira at the mention of the race that had enslaved her people for decades. "What about the Cardassians?" she asked, her voice deadly quiet.

"Half of the fleet that demolished Belug Four was Cardassian, which gives Starfleet added reason for caution."

"It is the Founders we should attack," Worf said. "They bred the Jem'Hadar to be their warriors. Kill the head and the body will die." Everyone, Kira included, avoided looking at Odo.

"Tactically correct," Sisko agreed. "But considering Starfleet is hard-pressed to defend its territory on this side of the wormhole, it would be impractical to launch an attack into the Gamma Quadrant."

Bashir gave Sisko a questioning look. "Why has Starfleet kept the attacks secret?"

"I asked and was told to keep quiet and follow orders," Sisko said. "My guess is they're afraid of panic. Which reminds me, this information is restricted. I'd better not catch any rumors about the Belug incident until Starfleet releases an official statement. You're being briefed in violation of Jorgenson's gag order because you have the right to know in the face of what I'm asking you to do."

"But, Captain," Bashir said. "Withholding information like that is censorship. I can't believe Starfleet-"

"Believe it." Sisko said. "It's not pretty but that's the way it is. I confess I'm beginning to have reservations about some Starfleet policies...or at least the policies of one of its principal officers."

"You mean Admiral Jorgenson?" Odo asked.

"Exactly." Sisko straightened in his chair. "Something's made the Dominion put the Jem'Hadar on the move and sooner or later they'll head for this station. When that happens I want to be ready. Besides," Sisko spread his hands, "the Dominion isn't the only threat we have to deal with out here. Having our own fleet will give us the flexible response required to address whatever comes our way."

Major Kira leaned her forearms on the table. "Bajor won't help. Placing ships under your command would be too much of a commitment to the Federation, even if the fleet's not the Federation's idea. But..." The metal adornments of her clan earring jangled softly as she looked up sharply. "There may be some useful resources left over from the resistance. I'm thinking more along the lines of people and weapons than a ship."

"I understand the political situation on Bajor, Major. Anything you can turn up will be appreciated."

"Captain?" Skarn said. "On my way here I read up on the local history and current political situation. Bajor may not be willing to help but that doesn't eliminate the outer worlds. The ruling council on Bajor Eight appreciated your foiling the Duras sisters’ attempt to involve their planet in the Klingon civil war." Worf shifted in his seat. "Batur Lux was involved in that incident. He's advanced from the capital's mayor to colony president and I'm sure his hatred of the Cardassians will motivate him to help. I could approach him about the fleet on your behalf, if Major Kira doesn't object to an outsider-"

Kira smiled. "Not at all."

"Good," Sisko said to Skarn. "Follow up on that. Anyone else?" His eyebrows raised expectantly.

"During the civil war," Worf said. "I had the honor to serve on the Hegh'Ta as tactical officer. Captain Mor Pak commands her now. He may be interested in joining us."

"Why would a Klingon want to come to the aid of a Federation outpost?" O'Brien asked.

Worf shook his head. "He wouldn't. But things are too quiet in the Klingon Empire for many of our warriors. They hunger for combat and the smell of warm blood."

"Would the Empire permit him to join us?" Sisko asked.

"A Klingon goes where he wishes."

"Understood," Sisko said. "Contact him." Worf nodded once. Sisko turned back to his staff. "Worf’s offer reminds me, General Martok said we can count on the Rotaron, his personal bird-of-prey." Sisko looked expectantly around the table.

O'Brien stared thoughtfully at the ceiling and smiled. "All my contacts are in Starfleet. I don't think I could convince any of them to mutiny against the Federation. Of course, I did get to know Captain Picard fairly well when I was on the Enterprise. I suppose I could give him a call..."

Sisko smiled. "That's all right, Chief. I'm certain Captain Picard would appreciate the offer, but he's a busy man. Let's not put anything more on his plate."

O’Brien grinned. "I'm sure you're right, sir."

"Besides," Sisko added. "I have some projects for you that'll keep you too busy for anything else."

O’Brien’s grin vanished. "Oh. Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure. Doctor? I need you to double our inventory of medical equipment and supplies."

"Yes, sir," Bashir agreed. "That shouldn't be too difficult."

"I'm glad to hear it because I also want you to initiate a station-wide medical-training program. In the event of an attack, all personnel should be able to assist in casualty recovery. Try to get our civilian population involved as well."

"But, Captain. You're talking about four hundred people."

"Which is why it's fortunate the medical-supply job won't take much of your time." Sisko turned away before the doctor could protest. "For my part I'll be contacting someone who may have a line on a ship. If so, one of you will be tasked to check it out. That's all for now, people. Thank you for your support." Sisko stood in dismissal. "Two closing items: Dax is taking leave on the Trill homeworld. She's scheduled to return in two weeks. Also, Cadet Nog has been temporarily assigned to the station for a dose of field experience. As part of his training I've invited him to attend our staff meetings. You'll notice he's wearing the pips of a new senior cadet. You're all invited to Quark's at nineteen hundred hours to acknowledge his promotion. Dismissed."

Everyone shook hands with Nog who stood with his chest expanded so far the seams of his uniform threatened to burst. He nodded and grinned as the flow carried him towards the door.

"Kira?" Sisko called her back from the crowd squeezing through the exit. "How's your new lieutenant?"

"D'Taing? Like all Vulcans she's outstanding, but...." Kira set her jaw. "She's more aggressive. Most Vulcans plan their lives out according to the dictates of logic and plod their way through it. D'Taing is as logic-dominated as any Vulcan but she seems in an uncharacteristic hurry, almost impatient. She acts as if she wants to break out of the traditional Vulcan role."

"Is that a problem?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Not for me. She out-works any two of my staff. I just have this feeling she has a surprise up her sleeve. Why do you ask?"

"I need an escort for a VIP coming in tomorrow. Can D'Taing handle it?"

"Easily. Who's it for?"

"Admiral Phillipa Louvois, Starfleet's new Judge Advocate General. During his call this morning Jorgenson told me when she'd be arriving and ordered us to roll out the red carpet."

"What does she want on Deep Space Nine?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? The official word is she's on vacation so maybe all she wants is to relax and smell the ginger-ferns in Keiko's green house. Personally, I doubt that's the real reason she'd come all the way out here. Have D'Taing put her in the executive suite furthest from my office and run her through the usual tour."

"Right. Anything else?"

Doubt clouded Sisko’s features. "Tell me the fleet isn't a big mistake."

Her lips tightened. "It's what we need, but nothing that big can be kept quiet for long. When Jorgenson finds out he'll bring the hammer down on you."

He shrugged. "I know. There's just no other way to protect the station and Bajor."

"The price could be high."

"The consequences of not doing it could be higher."

She raised her chin. "You know the staff's one hundred percent behind you."

"I just hope I don't take them down with me if this goes wrong."

Kira smiled. "It won't, sir. You won't let it."

She turned away but Sisko called her back. "It seemed you and Odo avoided each other before the meeting. Something wrong?"

Her back went stiff. "With all due respect, sir. That's personal."

Her reaction caught him off balance. "Of course. I was just worried-"

Major Kira spun on her heel and marched off to rejoin the staff that had managed to move itself the rest of the way into Ops. Sisko watched her go, his expression dark. He tried to push his concerns about her and Odo and the fleet to the back of his mind. "Chief?" he called out over the sounds of people congratulating Nog.

O'Brien pulled away from the group and stepped back into the room. "Yes, sir?"

"Take a seat." O'Brien puffed out a deep breath as he dropped into a chair. "Why the sigh, Chief?"

"Well, I thought I came out of the meeting a little too unscathed."

Sisko sat down facing him. "Prepare to get scathed. I'm not confident about how successful the others will be at getting us any combat-ready ships."

O'Brien nodded. "It's a tall order."

"That's why I need you to convert three of our runabouts into warships."

O’Brien jerked up straight. "Warships! That's-"

"-Impossible. Yes, I know. But several times in the past you've made the mistake of doing just that so I'm counting on you to do it again."

"They're only designed for a crew of two."

"Make maximum use of auto-targeting and firing systems."

"They're limited to warp-"

"Upgrade the warp nacelles and power systems."

"Firepower-"

Sisko's voice sharpened with impatience. "Double up on the phaser arrays and mount as many photon torpedoes as you can on outriggers."

"But how..."

Sisko leaned close, his voice deep. "I don't really care, Chief. Just find a way."

O'Brien leaned back. "Yes, sir. Anything else?"

The hint of a smile crept back into Sisko's expression. "Funny you should ask that."

O'Brien sighed again. "Let me have it."

"Delegate the shuttle work to your staff after you work out the design. Once that's underway, I want you to make a new weapon for us."

O'Brien leaned forward. "A new phaser array for docking pylon three? The one that's there now-"

"No, Chief. I mean a new weapon...as in 'never been done before.' Something with enough firepower to set the Dominion back on its heels...hard."

O'Brien's forehead creased. "Surely a Federation lab or the Daystrom Institute would be better equipped for that sort of task."

"You're right, but I need something now. Every time I contact them they tell me it'll be five years and to go through Starfleet. You're all I've got."

"Thanks a heap."

Sisko inclined his head toward O’Brien. "You're welcome."

"You realize I'm not a weapons engineer."

Sisko leaned back, tenting his fingers in front of him. "Chief, I've never known an engineer who didn't have an idea for at least one new type of weapon. Are you telling me you're any different?"

"Oh, no. I admit I've toyed with a couple of designs over the years."

"Good. Toy with them some more...on overtime if necessary. I'll expect something sooner rather than later."

"Yes, sir. I'll see what I can come up with."

They both stood.

"And, Chief. Keep this last project just between the two of us. The fewer people who know about it, the smaller the risk that our enemies will find out."

O’Brien raised an eyebrow. "Or our friends in Starfleet?"

"Precisely."

O'Brien nodded and left, turning sideways to get through the door as Odo entered.

"Yes, Constable," Sisko said. "Something I can do for you?"

"I just wanted you to know I'll be keeping a tight surveillance on Quark while Mister McDermot's gracing us with his presence."

"Quark? Why?"

"Let's just say I feel uneasy about Quark in the proximity of that much wealth."

"Point taken."

"How about you, Captain. What's on your schedule?"

Sisko nodded toward the wardroom's portal. The preposterous bulk of the Aeneid had just lumbered into view. "As it happens I have an invitation from the richest man in the galaxy to look inside the biggest tin can in Federation space. While the rest of you are hard at work I'm going to relax and enjoy his hospitality." His expression grew thoughtful as the Aeneid's forward maneuvering thrusters fired bright red and brought it to a stop. "I wonder why he came to such a remote site for a refit?"

Chapter 4

Aeneid

Sisko smiled as Wilson McDermot strained to force his effervescent grin into a frown. It wasn't working. "Biggest tin can in the sector?" McDermot cried. "Captain, I'm insulted. The Aeneid's the biggest tin can in three quadrants!"

"I'm glad you weren't offended. Some captains-"

McDermot gave up on the mock frown. "Not a bit of it, Captain. Tin can is an accurate description...for now. In four weeks you'll have a completely different opinion of her. I promise. Come, let me give you the fifty-credit tour."

Sisko laughed along with McDermot. The richest man in the universe had more imp in him than businessman. Sisko eyes tightened in closer examination of his host. Or so he appears.

McDermot was short and full around the waist, but there had been muscle behind his handshake and work-hardened calluses covered his palm.

Sisko followed his host around the command center's perimeter, listening to his explanations of each control panel's purpose. McDermot’s voice carried the relaxed ease of someone comfortable with the technical complexities of a starship. Sisko soon realized that, except for Aeneid's preposterous size, the ship was like any freighter. He sniffed the air. It carried the tang of old metal. He paused by a large panel set into the wall. "Is this the control for the structural integrity field?"

"That's correct."

Sisko bent at the waist to read the power rating. "Fifty megawatts? Why so strong?"

"See for yourself, Captain," McDermot said with a flourish toward the rear of the cabin. His voice dropped low. "Look and marvel." He led the way to a portal on the back bulkhead. Sisko guessed it linked to a sensor pickup on the rear of the ship. "Watch," McDermot said as he touched a control pad near the portal's frame. A floor-to-ceiling section of bulkhead hissed to the left. Gray eternity filled the void beyond the opening.

"Lights off?" Sisko asked.

"No, Captain. All the floods are on."

Sisko braced a hand against the portal’s sill and bent closer. "It looks like...nothing."

McDermot leaned close, his voice lowered to a whisper. "Look deeper. Further."

 Sisko pushed forward until the tip of his nose tingled from the force field across the opening. In the center of the view he saw a small disk drawn in a darker shade of gray on the next bulkhead. "A hatch?"

"You're off by almost a mile. That's a clue, Captain." A secret smile spread across McDermot's lips.

"Off by a mile," Sisko mused, trying to assign a sense of distance to the archaic term. His eyes widened as realization struck home. The circle wasn't a hatch in the next bulkhead, but the two-hundred-meter diameter end of the ship, one thousand meters away. The entire bulk of the Aeneid was a vast open cavern. He instinctively stepped back.

McDermot laughed. "It affects everyone like that, Captain. Makes you feel like your toes are hanging over the edge of a cliff. That's why she needs such a strong structural integrity field, with no cross-bracing it's the only thing that holds her together."

Sisko forced himself to step forward. His gaze traced around the edge of the portal trying, and failing, to take in the Aeneid's immensity. "What kind of ship is this?"

"What was it would be a more accurate. I gave my agents a general description of the type of craft I needed. They scoured known space for six months before they found her."

McDermot ran his right hand lovingly down the bulkhead before turning away and pointing at a pair of blue command chairs. "Please, have a seat."

Sisko dropped into one. "I have been on every class of ship in Starfleet's inventory yet I've never seen anything like this."

"Mandor coffee." McDermot said to a replicator. "Captain?"

"Tarkalean tea, please. Thank you. I bet you could fit an entire D-class Enterprise inside this vessel."

"Possibly, Captain," McDermot said while the out-of-date replicator clinked and clunked, struggling to produce their order. "But just barely. The Aeneid's more than long enough but we might have to bend the warp nacelles in a bit to get it to fit width-wise."

Sisko shook his head.

McDermot handed him the tea. "She was originally intended to be an intergalactic zoo. The Arbazons built her seventy years ago. Regrettably, while they're undeniably the greatest shipwrights in the galaxy, they have terrible business sense. The venture folded within a year. After that the Ferengi tried using it to smuggle bladder-palms to the Dopterians."

Sisko looked thoughtful. "That should have paid well. Everyone knows the Dopterians love those plants. Heaven knows why. They look like glop-on-a-stick painted bilious green."

"Glop-on-a-stick?"

"Jumja sticks. They're a Bajoran sweet sold on the promenade. Imagine a caramel apple without the apple."

McDermot stroked his chin. "Sounds interesting. I'll have to look into marketing them." He shifted his eyes left and right in mock suspicion. "What most people don't know is that the dried petals of the palm's flowers can be ground into a powerful psychotropic drug. It's perfectly legal on the Dopterian's home world-"

Sisko nodded. "-But illegal in Federation territory."

"Exactly. The Ferengi got picked up attempting a shortcut through Starfleet-controlled space. The bladder-palms were destroyed and the ship confiscated." McDermot swiveled around to peer into the great openness of the Aeneid's interior. "She languished in Starfleet's impound yard for more than sixty years. No one could figure out what to do with her."

"Then you came along."

He smiled. "Got her for the price of scrap metal."

"And now?"

McDermot crossed his arms. "Captain, do you have any idea how many rich people there are in the known galaxy?"

Sisko shrugged. "Millions?"

"You're low a hundred-fold. What people in the Federation’s cashless system don't realize is that interstellar commerce is incredibly lucrative. There are so many species with things they want to buy and sell that anyone with a spaceship can make a mint."

Sisko raised an eyebrow. "If he knows what to buy and where to sell it."

McDermot smiled and made a little bow with his head. "I admit I've been lucky."

"I doubt it was luck."

"Thank you." McDermot bounced to his feet. "I'm going to refit the Aeneid into the greatest luxury passenger liner ever seen. Each of a series of bulkheads installed down the length of the ship will be configured into a single enormous suite, outfitted with gardens, ponds, fountains, statuary and living quarters more palatial than a royal estate on Risa. The Aeneid will redefine the ultimate in elegant space travel."

"And the richest of the rich will want to fly on her."

McDermot's smile went sly. "Actually, their applications will be turned down."

Sisko pulled back in surprise. "What?"

"It's a question of marketing strategy. The richest people will pay a lot but the not-quite-as-rich will pay more."

"I don't understand."

"Truly rich people don't have to prove anything. But, those stuck in wealth's second tier will pay enormous sums to have people think they belong at the top. Buying passage on the Aeneid will give the impression they've made it, if people richer than they have been turned down."

"So refusing to book some of the richest people will increase demand and therefore the price you can charge."

He jabbed a finger in Sisko's direction. "Exactly."

Sisko frowned. "Bit of a con, isn't it?"

McDermot shook his head. "Not at all. The passengers will get exactly what they paid for, the most opulent transportation possible. Only those foolish enough to believe that class can be bought will think they're getting anything more." McDermot spread his hands. "And who's to say they won't. A businessman could book passage to impress someone, who in turn puts him on to a good thing. That makes good financial sense." He gazed up at the ceiling. "You know, I may apply for passage myself. I wonder if I'd accept myself as suitable?"

Sisko smiled ruefully. "It sounds so mercenary."

McDermot thrust his arms out wide and grinned. "It's business. Of course it's mercenary."

"You talk like a Ferengi."

"As a matter of fact, I own quite a bit of real estate on Ferenginar. Nice people. We think alike. I plan on spending quite a bit of time there in the near future."

Sisko looked over his shoulder toward the Aeneid's interior. "Why come all the way out to a frontier station like Deep Space Nine?"

McDermot shrugged. "You're far enough removed from the Federation's mainstream so the work can be done without notoriety. That way when I announce the Aeneid's existence it'll seem like she appeared out of nowhere. It introduces a sense of the exotic and mystery. I may even encourage a rumor that she's an ancient relic of a lost race to enhance the effect. What do you think?"

"With you pitching the line I'm sure it'll work. However, even with all that salesmanship do you really think you can charge enough to make a profit?"

"No."

Sisko's brow furrowed. "No? That doesn't sound like good business sense."

"What would I use the profit for?"

"To invest and make more profit, I suppose."

"Now who's sounding mercenary?" He regarded Sisko with exaggerated studiousness. "Are you sure you're not part Ferengi?"

"Hardly."

McDermot chuckled. "To answer your question, I make profit to spend on projects I enjoy. The Aeneid's one of them. Straining to force a profit out of it would ruin the fun."

"So this project's like the Rigel Two moon you terraformed."

McDermot nodded. "Exactly. Now that was fun."

"Some fun. How much did that cost?"

"Let's see...." He scratched the red curls at the side of his head. "In the local medium of exchange, about three hundred million plates of gold-pressed latinum."

"Plates?"

"One hundred bars to the plate."

Sisko felt his jaw drop. "God."

McDermot's face brightened with a sly smile. "Couldn't have afforded it."

Sisko chuckled and shook his head. "So the Aeneid's really one of your smaller projects."

"Well...not quite. There are a few details that drive the price up to a respectable level." Sisko smiled expectantly. Instead of explaining McDermot stood and walked to the control room's exit. Sisko sensed the tour was over. At the hatch he drank the last of his drink before handing McDermot the cup. "Excellent tea. Thank you Mister Mc-"

"Please. Call me Will."

"Thanks for the tea, Will. And the tour."

"My pleasure." McDermot quickly keyed the door open.

Sisko’s eyes tightened. Was he pushing? He turned toward his shuttle, paused, then spun about. "Wait a minute. You said you'd only be here a few weeks."

"That's right." McDermot's hand rested on the door's closure switch.

"How are you going to refit a ship this size inside a month? Even the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards on Mars would need a year."

"Replibots, a new type of construction robot with built-in replicators. Each is equivalent to a fifty-man work crew. I have over a thousand already at work. Once the supplies start arriving you'll be amazed how fast things develop. Thanks for the visit, Captain, but I have to beg off now. There's a lot to do." Without breaking his smile, McDermot closed the switch.

The hatch slid shut an inch from Sisko's face.

Sisko studied the closed door a moment, then about-faced and walked to his shuttle. He cut free from the side of the monster ship, but instead of heading directly back to the station, programmed the maneuvering thrusters to skim alongside the Aeneid's surface. The curvature was so slight it felt like he was flying next to a flat gray wall.

A two-meter-diameter glittering sphere flashed by the view screen. It stopped, backed up, and scanned the shuttle before racing off. Sisko tilted back in his chair and stared after the rapidly shrinking sphere, wondering if he’d just seen a replibot.

The Aeneid's expanse stretched on toward the distant stars. Sisko saw nothing else of interest so he reprogrammed the shuttle's controls to take him back to the station. Increasing distance slowly let the shuttle's rear viewer frame all of the Aeneid's bulk. Sisko studied the great ship and pondered the way McDermot had rushed him off. A glint of light caught his eye as an unmarked transport ship pulled up to a docking position near the Aeneid's stern. Sisko pursed his lips. What's McDermot up to?

Chapter 5

OUTSIDE QUARK'S

"I don't like it," Odo grumbled to himself.

"You don't like what?" a feminine voice asked from behind him.

The security chief stiffened as he turned around. "Hello, Nerys. I thought I recognized your footsteps."

She smiled down at her feet. "I didn't know my tread was so heavy."

Odo stretched his smooth face into a thin-lipped smile. "Not in the least. It's just that some sounds...." The smile wavered. "I mean...."

She took a step toward the changeling. "You were going to tell me what you weren't happy about."

Odo felt the familiar tightening in his middle that always accompanied being close to Kira. After their disagreement last week, he no longer felt he could act on those feelings. He took a hasty step back and lifted a hand in the direction he'd been looking.

She craned her neck toward the object of his scrutiny. Quark's bar came into view. The dabo wheel's faint clacking wafted across the promenade in a vain attempt to entice players out of the early-afternoon crowd. "What's Quark done this time?"

"Nothing...yet. He's been the perfect little Ferengi -- watering down drinks, cheating customers on change, the usual."

"So, why the surveillance?"

"He has a special visitor today."

She leaned out further and spotted a head of brilliant orange hair. "Is that really Wilson McDermot?"

Odo's expression soured. "You make him sound like a holostar."

"In a way, he is. It's not every day you get to see the richest man in the galaxy."

"His shoes need polish."

"You have good eyesight. Or have you been morphing into a Baneriam hawk again?"

Odo worked his mouth into a broad smile. He'd been practicing and was proud of its realism. "As a matter of fact, I did. Yesterday, for fun, but not today. I spotted the dirt on his shoes as he passed by earlier. I also noticed his pants are stained."

Exasperation crept into her eyes. "Give the man a break, Odo. He's hard at work trying to refit his ship. You have to admit that's better than the typical image of the idle rich."

"I don't know many rich people but I believe few are lazy. As a species they're the busiest people around, and the sneakiest."

"Where'd you get that idea?"

"From Wilson McDermot, for one." Odo crossed thin arms over his narrow chest. "Do you want to know something curious about your precious Mister McDermot?" She leaned closer. Odo felt himself pulled toward her in spite of his conviction. He uncrossed his arms. "The truth is I can't tell you anything about him and that's what is interesting. There isn't a byte of information about him in any database I could get into, and I can access quite a few."

"What do you mean? He's in the news almost every month."

"No, he's not." Odo held up a hand as she opened her mouth. "Oh, there are plenty of stories about what he does but almost nothing about the man: who he is or what motivates him."

"Why does that worry you?"

Odo nodded at Quark's. "Because he's the richest man in the quadrant and he's talking to the biggest thief in space."

Her smile went crooked. "Good point. So you haven't found out anything about McDermot, the inner man."

"Not exactly." Odo looked down into her face. He couldn't help letting his expression soften. So close. Nerys. He forced himself to turn back towards the bar. "I'm good at reading between the lines, Major," he said with strained formality. "By examining what he's done and how he did it, I got a few clues to McDermot's inner workings."

"And?"

"Besides being a natural-born business genius, McDermot also has considerable skills in both science and engineering. He made his first fortune when he was only a teenager by figuring out how to build self-replicating nano-robots that attach themselves to teeth. They continuously clean and repair any dental structure they contact."

"He did that? I love them. You have to have lived on a planet with dentists to appreciate what it was like before dental nanites became available."

"I'm sure five million dentists in Federation space didn't appreciate it. They lost their jobs. That suggests the capability for ruthlessness, when the situation calls for it."

"You forget, for every dentist who may have lost a job, thousands of people were saved from the discomfort." She crossed her arms. "I think you're being paranoid."

Odo harumphed. "Most policemen are. It goes with the job."

A muted crash came from the direction of Quark's. Kira turned to look and saw a waitress scrambling to pick up pieces of something off the floor. The waitress dropped them onto an empty serving tray and began dabbing at the floor with a towel. "Has he been connected with anything illegal?" she asked.

"Nothing definite. There were rumors about questionable salvage operations outside of Federation space but nothing was substantiated. The most interesting tidbit was one of his few failures. A recent one."

"What was it?"

"He tried marketing prune juice on the Klingon home world."

Kira’s eyes popped wide open. "What? Prune juice? To Klingons? I'm not surprised it failed."

He leaned his head to the side. "Why are you shocked, Major? We both know a Klingon who loves it."

"Worf. Right. But as far as I've heard he's the only Klingon who-"

Odo nodded. "Exactly. In all known space there's only one Klingon who drinks prune juice and McDermot found out about it. That suggests an intelligence-gathering capability beyond anything I've ever known."

"That's hardly enough to hang the man."

"No. But some day McDermot will go too far. When that day comes a lot of people will be surprised at the skeletons that come marching out of his closet."

She grinned. "It'll be an interesting parade."

"It's not a laughing matter. To me it looks like McDermot's consumed by a passion for grand projects, each bigger than the last. I think he's addicted to accomplishment, as if it gives his life purpose."

"Is that so bad?"

Odo expression turned serious. "When it takes the place of more fundamental things like a wife and family, yes."

Her eyes cut sharply up to his, then looked back toward Quark's. "You're awfully quick to judge a man you've never met. Maybe he's just what he appears to be, a hard-working, hard-playing man who's earned the right to get some fun out of life."

"I'd be willing to accept that if-"

"First call for Bajor shuttle twenty-one," a loudspeaker announced.

"That's my flight," she said.

"The captain's project?"

"Right."

His hand reached out on its own accord and gently touched her arm. "Good luck."

She pulled away. "I'm sorry, Odo. What I said last week... I haven't changed my mind." She headed for her gate.

Denied its purpose, Odo's arm fell away. He turned away, back towards the bar. He wished that he'd asked her to dinner when she got back but he hadn't, fearing she would turn him down.

"Odo?"

He looked around. She'd stopped ten feet away. "Yes, Nerys?"

"Are you okay with Worf's recommendation to attack the Founders? They're your own people."

"Not any more. You are my people now." His eyes widened. "I mean Bajorans, er, Humans. That is-"

A whisper of a smile touched her lips. "It's okay, Odo. I know what you mean. I was just concerned."

"It didn't bother me, but thanks for asking."

Her smile warmed a little. "I'm sorry I pulled away just now."

"I understand, Nerys." He took a step towards her. "Perhaps when you get back-"

"Last call for Bajoran shuttle twenty-one. All passengers report immediately to Docking Bay Number Six."

"Sorry, Odo," she called over her shoulder. "Have to run. She disappeared through the exit before he could finish.

Odo mimicked a human sigh. His race didn't breathe so it was only a gesture, but one that somehow gave solace. He'd been doing it a lot the last week. He sighed again and turned back to Quark's.

The men were talking. Odo looked left and right. No one could see. He aimed his head directly at Quark and McDermot. His right ear stretched outward, transforming into a funnel. The high-pitched clinks of glass against glass and the low rumble of voices swelled. He could pick up the mumble of Quark and McDermot's voices but background noise from the bar drowned out any details.

McDermot handed something to Quark. Odo returned his ear to its normal shape and concentrated on his eyes. The pupils contracted to pinpoints as the irises darkened from brown to black; the men seemed to rush toward him. Quark's head ballooned, making Odo chuckle. The Ferengi's broad lumpy forehead reminded him of an abused anvil.

He lowered his gaze. The object in Quark's hand was a personal access display device. Quark pressed the read control. Odo watched the Ferengi's feral eyes follow the scrolling text. The Ferengi’s finger stayed on the advance button. Odo knew Quark was a quick study but even he couldn't read solid text that fast. It had to be a list.

Odo turned away, his eyes distant. He'd figured out McDermot had ordered enormous quantities of supplies before he'd arrived because they had started arriving within hours of his appearance, then why did he need Quark?

He looked back and went rigid. Quark was on his feet steadying himself with one hand on the back of a chair while clutching the PADD like it had gotten too heavy to hold, as if it had turned to lead...or latinum. Sudden perspiration dripped off the Ferengi's forehead. His thin body shook.

Quark dropped the PADD on the table and started shaking his head. McDermot calmly reached into a satchel resting on the floor and pulled out a golden slab. He placed it on the table. Then placed a second on top of it, a third, and finally a fourth. Quark froze. Odo watched a drop of saliva form at the corner of the Ferengi's thin mouth and wished he hadn't enhanced his eyesight.

Quark lovingly placed a hand on the plates.

McDermot held out his right hand and Quark shook it without taking his eyes off the stack. McDermot clapped his hands together as he stood, slapped Quark on the shoulder, picked up his satchel, and strolled out of the bar wearing his signature smile. The Constable watched until the man turned out of sight. He noticed the satchel hung heavily from McDermot's arm and wondered how much wealth it still contained.

Loud, angry voices from the front of the bar drew Odo's attention. A crowd had jammed the exit in a rush to get out. Inside, Quark was madly waving his hands overhead to hurry them on. Odo frowned. Closing the bar so early would lose Quark all the getting-off-from-work trade, the most profitable time. Quark slammed the doors so fast they hit the fish-faced Morn in the back, then returned to the table he'd shared with McDermot and transferred the metallic plates to the end of the bar next to the pay-for-use communicators. Odo watched him sit with his left hand on top of the plates, McDermot's PADD in front of him, and his right hand on a communicator link, the one with a scrambler.

Like Quark, Odo knew that office calls could be traced. Calls from the public communicator couldn't, or at least the caller could more easily deny making them. Odo doubted the Ferengi would take such precautions to order extra towels for McDermot's guests on the Aeneid.

 He observed the Ferengi another half-hour before giving up. Quark dialed number after number, spoke a few words each time, then dialed again. After each call he'd tap the scroll key on the PADD. Odo pursed his lips. "If Quark's placing orders, he's doing it too fast to be bargaining. Strange."

Before leaving Odo focused on the plates. He picked up printing along the edge of one of them.

Fed.Std.Plt:Lat.-100pt.

Gold-pressed latinum plate: One hundred points pure, the best. Each plate was valued at one hundred bars. Odo doubted Quark had ever seen latinum plates before. There lay four of them, more wealth than Quark had earned in all the years he'd managed the bar. The moment Odo asked himself what the Ferengi would be willing to do for that much money, the answer came to him.

Anything.

Chapter 6

QUARK STRIKES A DEAL

Quark had begun the morning of McDermot's visit like any other. He arrived early to recount the previous day's profit, inspected the premises, inventoried supplies, and finally settled down to read a few pages of The Ferengi Guide to Acquisition.

"Studying, brother?" a breathy voice asked.

Quark heaved an impatient sigh without lifting his eyes from the gold-bound text. "You know I always start the day like this and don't appreciate interruptions. You're late, Rom."

"Uh...how would you know? You didn't even look at your watch."

"You're always late. The replicator's not right. Fix it."

Rom's thin lips formed a petulant frown. "You shouldn't order me around like I still work here. I'm a Starfleet employee now." His frown turned into a tooth-filled grin as he pointed to a silver pip on his collar. "Engineering technician, grade three!" He held his head proudly, but a weak chin spoiled the effect.

"So, you finally got that promotion. Good for you. Now fix the replicator."

"But-"

Quark snapped the book closed. "But nothing. You may work for Starfleet but my station fees pay your salary. As far as I can tell, the only thing that's changed is that you've added a middleman between us. That's bad business."

Rom squinted in thought. "Rule of Acquisition one hundred and seventy-six: Cut out the middleman whenever possible."

"Wrong. It's one hundred and sixty-seven. You always reverse the last two numbers on that one." Rom's shoulders sagged as he headed for the replicator. Quark went back to studying the book. Rom's heel-taps clacking on