Chapter 20

Inside Quark’s Public House, Café, Gaming Emporium, Holosuite Arcade, and Ferengi Embassy, the lights were low and the gaming tables silent. There was, however, the smell of Ferengi home cooking in the air.

With the bar temporarily closed, Ishka felt that it was the perfect location for a family meal before her dear little family scattered to the winds . . . or went to the Vault of Eternal Destitution. Wherever fate ultimately sent each individual.

With the help of the repaired replicator (Rom still had the hands of an engineer), and a few supplies she managed to purchase from a friendly Bajoran produce vendor in the Plaza, Ishka created a repast that she was certain would tempt the Prophets (assuming they ate in that strange wormhole of theirs). Unfortunately, with the exception of the eternally hungry Zek, no one seemed to have much of an appetite.

“Come on, come on,” she said, herding Zek, Leeta, Rom, and Bena from their guest quarters to the bar. Quark, of course, was already there, sitting alone in his office, checking the balance in his personal vault account at the Bank of Bolias and estimating how far it might take him . . . “just in case.” At Ishka’s insistent knock-knock-knocking at his door, he left the office and joined the family at the large tongo table where she’d set up the meal.

Quark’s mood wavered somewhere between “damn depressed” and “on the verge of catatonia.” He normally wouldn’t have taken kindly to his mother serving hot food on his expensive tongo table, but in his present state of mind he had to admit that her transformation of the tongo wheel into a big Lazy Susan was inspired.

If I get to keep the bar after this is all over, he thought, maybe I’ll keep the table this way. Turn it into a revolving buffet.

But while you can lead a Ferengi to puree of beetle, you can’t always make him slurp it up.

Everyone sat down. Ishka spun the wheel, hoping to entice them. Zek immediately helped himself to a wedge of fungi-loaded spore pie. The rest of the group just sat, staring blankly at the wheel.

“Come on, come on—you have to keep up your strength,” Ishka chided as she ladled marzonion buds in krasie juice onto her plate.

Leeta politely reached for a piece of moba fruit and placed it on her otherwise empty plate. Then she stared at the wheel.

Seated next to her, Bena spotted something she definitely liked. “Moogie, may I have a slice of tuwaly pie?”

“That’s dessert, honey,” Ishka started to say. “Wouldn’t you like some—”

“Oh, what difference does it make?” said Leeta, and she served a large helping of the sweet dish to her daughter with a loving smile.

Rom let out a deep sigh. “How could this have happened? And on my watch?”

Bena gave her father an encouraging smile between bites of pie. “Maybe no one back home will find out,” she suggested.

Quark helped himself to a glass of the Calaman sherry his mother had thoughtfully placed on the table. “They already know,” he grunted. “I saw an FNS newsbreak while I was in my office. They’ve told everyone the scroll is a fake.”

Rom groaned.

“And whose fault is that?” said Ishka with a scowl. “You were the one who brought in that . . . that . . . reporter to cover the dedication. And she’s been reporting everything that’s happened here ever since.”

Quark took a large swig of the sherry. She was right. No point in denying it.

Leeta frowned. “Has it occurred to anyone that the scroll might always have been a fake?”

This time, Quark opted to respond. “The real scroll is over ten thousand years old. Gint wrote it that long ago. It’s part of recorded history from that era. But the latinum on this scroll is less than twenty years old.”

Rom groaned again. “What’s going to happen when I get home? I’m in so much trouble.”

Bena dropped her fork. “But, Daddy, it’s not your fault. You thought it was real too!”

“That won’t matter,” Rom went on. “They won’t care about that. The Ferengi Council will probably . . . probably have me sold into indentured servitude.”

“No, Daddy!” Bena cried out, and she ran to her father to hug him tightly. “I won’t let them! I’ll buy you instead! I’ve got a lot in my portfolio!”

Rom smiled and hugged her back. “Spoken like a true Ferengi,” he said, tears glistening in his eyes. Overcome with emotion, Leeta rushed over to hug him from the other side.

Suddenly Quark stiffened as he saw movement over by the entrance. Then he recognized Odo walking toward them, and he relaxed. A little. The Changeling studied the curious tableau before him, shrugged, and said what he’d come to say. “In case any of you care, the Dopterians are in Blackmer’s hands now. He’s putting them and one of his security officers on a shuttle to Ferenginar.”

When no one responded, he went on to his next point. “And traffic to and from the station has been resumed. You may as well reopen the bar.”

“Embassy,” corrected Quark.

“Whatever,” said Odo.

Curious, Ishka looked at Odo and inquired, “Did the Dopterians tell you how they got in?”

“Actually, they did,” Odo responded. “Apparently the servers’ entrance was left unlocked. They were prepared to pick the lock, but, as it turned out, they didn’t need to.”

Leeta and Ishka stared meaningfully at Quark, who suddenly remembered how easy it had been for his family to get in the day before. “Okay, yes—I forgot to look into that. And while we’re at it, yes—I was the one who decided to cut the security feed to the lounge. Not that it makes any difference at this point. We’re all ruined.”

“Listen to me,” Leeta objected. “Bena is right. It’s not Rom’s fault. All he did was reveal a crime that already had been committed. The scroll he took from the Vaults of Opulence was a phony. Who knows how long it’s been in there?”

“Not longer than twenty years,” said Quark. He frowned as something occurred to him. “That,” he said slowly, “would have been during Zek’s term as Nagus.”

And suddenly all eyes turned toward Zek, who was helping himself to the remainder of the tuwaly pie. Looking up, he realized that everyone was staring at him. Uncertain what infraction he might have committed, he opted to play it safe and returned a small portion of the pie to the tongo wheel.

Ishka was aghast. “What are you saying, Quark? Surely you’re not blaming Zek!”

“I put it back,” Zek confessed, pointing to the pie. But that didn’t seem to resolve the problem. They were still staring at him. “Uh . . . what are we talking about?”

Ishka took his hand lovingly. “Oh, Zekkie, it’s okay. We’re talking about that scroll that Rom borrowed from the Vaults of Opulence. We’ve discovered that . . . that it’s a fake.”

Zek blinked and then nodded. “Well, of COURSE it’s a fake,” he said in a brief moment of clarity. “I put the thing in there fourteen years ago.”