Chapter 11

Quark stepped into the refurbished employees’ lounge. He stared at the covered pedestal that took up a large portion of the tiny room. Inside was Gint’s scroll. All he had to do was show it. There was nothing complicated about the presentation—nothing, really, that required a humanoid to be in attendance. Just a few buttons to push. It was so simple that a Ferengi swamp lemur could operate it, so why not assign the task to Frool? But Rom had made it clear that someone trustworthy had to remain in the room with the precious artifact while outsiders were present. And since Rom would be occupied in the main room, mingling with the guests, Quark was the obvious choice.

So, fine. He’d stay here while Rom fulfilled his nagal responsibilities. Tonight did offer him the best opportunity to urge the gathered VIFs to support his position on limiting the blood-flea market. As much as everyone liked a hearty bowl of flaked blood fleas, the current marketplace was overrun with them—literally. Leeta and Bena had come home from several shopping trips covered with itchy red bites from a prolific new strain of “free range” blood fleas.

Quark took his position next to the pedestal. Here we go, he said to himself, and he flipped a switch on the control panel that Rom had installed. The switch activated a green light just outside, signaling Frool to send in the first group.

Ten paying customers filed into the tiny room and looked around curiously. Quark was surprised to see that Chief O’Brien and his attractive wife, Keiko, were among their number. I guess he actually meant it when he told me he’d love to see the scroll, thought Quark. That’s kind of touching. Sappy, but touching.

There was barely room for the ten of them (plus Quark), and as they tried to fit, they had to adjust their elbows to keep from poking their neighbors. I probably should have set this up in one of the larger pantries, Quark thought. Then he reminded himself of the 142nd Rule: There’s no profit in second-guessing.

When the group appeared to be somewhat situated, Quark lowered the lights and activated a recording of patriotic music (the ever-popular “Anthem of Unfettered Profit” served this purpose nicely—and it was in the public domain). Then the music faded, and a recitation began:

“It was over ten thousand years ago, in the early era of Ferengi prosperity, that Grand Nagus Gint, the very first Grand Nagus, took it upon himself to create the Rules of Acquisition: the precious guiding principles that form the basis of Ferengi business philosophy . . .”

“. . . hand-lettered in dried liquid latinum . . .” it droned on.

“. . . locked away from public view for generations . . .” and on.

Quark noticed an elderly gentleman with large droopy ears—named Cack, if Quark remembered correctly—sagging a bit on his cane. Maybe I should shorten the presentation. Nah. Let them get their money’s worth.

“And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for, the moment that you’ve paid for!”

Quark pushed another button. The top of the pedestal slid away. An inner compartment rose with a hum, revealing the most beautiful illuminated scroll that anyone in the room had ever seen. Instantly, the viewers forgot their discomfort, and even their neighbors’ elbows, as they jostled to see the document before them.

They oooohed and ahhhhhhed, and some of them wiped tears from their eyes. Then a new piece of music arose: the familiar strains of “Behold the Luster!,” the fanfare originally written for the opening of the remodeled Tower of Commerce five decades earlier. Unfortunately, because its composer was still alive, Quark had to pay for the theme’s use. He’d thought about using something else, but he knew that nothing would tug at heartstrings (not to mention purse strings) like “Behold the Luster!”

As one, the audience leaned forward to see the artifact. The partially unfurled parchment featured ancient Ferengi hieroglyphs along with Gint’s flowing latinum scrawl. Quark had chosen to unroll the scroll to display his favorite Rule, the 19th: “Satisfaction is not guaranteed.”

“I didn’t imagine it would be so beautiful,” Keiko whispered to her husband. “I mean, given the source . . .” Her voice trailed off as O’Brien put his finger to his lips.

“Careful, love,” he said softly. “Big ears.”

But if anyone had heard her, this apparently wasn’t a moment for responding to petty insults. Everyone seemed quite moved by the display. In fact, elderly Cack had risen to his full stature and was tottering forward to get a better look. “I want to touch it,” he murmured—just loud enough that Quark heard.

“No, don’t,” he warned. “There’s a f—”

Too late. The old Ferengi reached out to stroke the scroll with his gnarled fingers and connected with the force field that surrounded the pedestal. For a brief instant, a bluish flash of energy spread through his body, and his large droopy ears stood higher than they had for years.

Then he was thrown backward—thankfully, into O’Brien’s arms. The chief carefully set the old gent back on his feet. “You all right?” he asked.

Cack was staring upward, presumably at the heavens. “I . . . I think I saw Gint. He was smiling at me.”

With that, the scroll descended into the pedestal, and the top slid neatly into place. The prerecorded voice blared: “This concludes our presentation. Souvenirs of your visit are available in the embassy. Please exit the room NOW.”

“Well, at least he said ‘please,’ ” O’Brien observed as he and Keiko watched the group of Ferengi shuffle out of the room. When he was sure they were out of earshot, he turned to Quark and said, “I want a quick word.”

“I don’t have time for a quick word,” the barkeep responded. “I’ve got to get the next group in. My financial future—”

“Will be just fine, Quark,” said O’Brien. “I just wanted to tell you that you did a nice job with this. Keiko and I are very impressed.”

Quark glanced at Keiko, who nodded and smiled reassuringly. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He’d been expecting a lecture and was truly taken off guard by the compliment. “Um . . . thanks,” he said at last. “Of course, it was Rom who made it possible. Even though it was my idea.”

“One other thing,” O’Brien said.

“I knew it,” Quark muttered under his breath.

“You need to add a warning to that recording of yours about that force field. Or at least put a sign up. Most people will be smart enough to expect it, but a few . . .” He gestured toward the group that had left.

“Okay,” Quark said, clearly aware of time passing. “Is that it?”

O’Brien could take a hint. “Yeah,” he said. “Think it’s time for some more of those delicious hors d’oeuvres.” He winked at Keiko.

“Oh . . . yes,” she said. “They’re quite . . . unique.” Her smile seemed a little strained, but Quark didn’t care. The less they ate, the more there’d be for the paying guests.

Quark maneuvered the couple to the door and nudged them into the hallway. “Well, don’t forget to tell your friends,” he said, closing the door behind them.

Then he went back to his station next to the pedestal and signaled Frool to send in the next group.