Chapter 2

Leeta leaned over Rom’s shoulder, smiled at the face on the monitor, and said, “I need to speak with Rom for a minute.” Her brother-in-law’s “DON’T PUT ME ON HOLD! ” hung in the air as she decisively jabbed the pause button. You can’t tell me what to do anymore, Quark! she thought. Lively electronic music filled the room as the Ferengi symbol of state replaced the agitated face on the monitor.

Rom twisted his head around to look at her in surprise. “Why did you do that?” he asked. “That’s just going to make him even madder.”

“I don’t want him to hear me.” The lovely Bajoran pressed her silky cheek against her husband’s. “Oh, Rom,” she said softly. “I hate to say it, but Quark is right. Dedicating the new embassy is your responsibility. You’ve been so busy trying to handle everything here at home that you’ve neglected your off-world commitments. Ferenginar won’t collapse if you leave for a little while to do what needs to be done elsewhere. Everything here will have to wait. But so what? It’s like the seventh diagonal spin of the dabo wheel. It’s a necessary move, even though the best result is that there’s no harm done.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Rom said, glancing back at the symbol rotating on the screen. “But I’m not sure that the Congress of Economic Advisors would agree with you about no harm being done. They’re already upset with me because of all the delays. I think that I’d rather have just my brother mad at me.”

“Don’t be silly!” Leeta said with a smile. “They won’t be mad at you, because Quark will invite all those same advisors to the dedication! They’ll be off-planet too. And they won’t be thinking about that unresolved labor situation—they’ll be thinking about dabo girls and free appetizers! The trip will be like a vacation for them. And,” she whispered, her lips delicately brushing her husband’s lobe, “it’ll be one for us too. Kind of like a second honeymoon.”

And then she giggled, a sweet little sound that Rom could never resist. As he gazed at Leeta’s face, he felt that old quivery feeling, that tiny inner click, the one that overwhelmed him every time he saw the beautiful wrinkled bridge of her nose. Suddenly all concerns about being Grand Nagus dissipated. “I’d like that,” he admitted, “but do you really think the space station would be a good place for a second honeymoon?”

“Why not? We had our first honeymoon there—remember?”

“I kind of remember that the Dominion War got in the way for a while.”

“Yes, but it did finally happen, didn’t it?” Leeta pressed.

“Yeah,” Rom admitted, blushing. “Yeah. It sure did.” Suddenly he laughed. The tension in his shoulders visibly disappeared, and Leeta knew she was going to win. But to close the deal, she added a few incentives.

“And just think, Rom. We can see some of our old friends. You can get together with Chief O’Brien and the other engineers. And I can catch up with my friends at the bar. Maybe we can even take a day trip to Bajor. I know my relatives would love to see Bena. They haven’t seen her since she was a baby.”

Rom sighed. “It’s too bad Nog is away on assignment. Bena would have loved to see her brother.”

Leeta smiled inwardly. “Then you’ll do it?”

“You know I can’t say no to you,” he answered. “Especially when you’re right.”

Rom—feeling like Grand Nagus Rom once again—reached for the pause button. But Leeta abruptly climbed into his lap and enveloped him in a hug. “I knew there was a reason I married you. You are just the sweetest man in the galaxy.” And she pressed her warm, wonderful lips against his.

The Nagus’s hand wavered, then slowly moved away from the button as he wrapped his arms around his wife. Quark was only an ambassador. He could wait another minute for the good news.

Or maybe two.

Yielding to his early morning drowsiness, Shmenge leaned against Quark’s office door. A dreamy image of his own private shuttle drifting into a latinum asteroid field floated through his head. Just as a glistening dollop of the precious liquid splattered against the shuttle’s viewscreen, an earsplitting whoop of victory erupted from Quark’s office. Startled, Shmenge leaped backward—

—And crashed into a crate of empty bottles stacked near the door.

Bewildered, the young Ferengi was staring at the mess he’d created when his boss, grinning with joy, burst out of his office.

Quark saw Shmenge and the mess. His grin turned to a scowl. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he barked. “You don’t have to break down the containers before you recycle them!”

And then, despite his irritation, the barkeep began to smile again. “Now clean that up. We’re gonna have company.” He stepped behind the bar and poured himself a large glass of snail juice, tipping it toward his apprentice in an imaginary toast. “A lot of company.”

To Shmenge’s surprise, Quark began to hum a melody. At least he thought it was a melody. It sounded, vaguely, like “Tickle My Lobes and Tell Me That You Love Me.”