Chapter 23

I’m glad Leeta talked me into buying this model, Rom thought.

He’d set the velocity for full impulse, a safe but still almost-too-fast speed for a vessel traveling so close to the planet’s surface.

But this was definitely an emergency, and, he rationalized, I am the nagus.

When he’d acquired the vessel, he hadn’t anticipated taking it far—and hardly ever offworld—so its warp-two capacity had seemed a bit extravagant. The nagal purchasing agent, charged with helping to preserve the government’s latinum reserves, had counseled, “Only a fool would purchase more capability for speed than he can use,” adding, “As I once heard a hew-mon explain it: ‘Haste makes waste.’ ”

Leeta, however, in a way that only Leeta could, convinced him that this was the perfect shuttlecraft for him. “It’s so streamlined and fast, Rom!” she’d cooed. “And that Corinthian leather interior is soooo sexy. It’s you, inside and out!”

Rom didn’t believe that, of course. But he’d liked the way the words sounded when she said them. He’d tried to argue that it would cost much more than a traditional shuttlecraft. That’s when his beautiful wife had countered by whispering, first into his left lobe, “Every nagus is entitled to splurge now and then,” and then into his right, “Otherwise, what’s the point of being the nagus?”

Rom couldn’t clearly recall what had happened next, but apparently he’d notified the agent to complete the transaction, because the shuttlecraft showed up at the Residence the next morning.

He was still reminiscing, when suddenly the shuttle slowed, indicating it had reached the preset coordinates. Below, Rom saw a pair of vehicles parked near a dome-like structure, but he opted to set down on the opposite end of what appeared to be a construction site.

Now what? he asked himself.

He didn’t particularly want to get out and start wandering around looking for Quark and Odo. But it wasn’t just the obvious cold that gave him pause.

What if Odo hasn’t captured all of those goons yet, and what if I run into one of them? he worried.

And what is a goon, anyway?

Seated within the warm shuttle, he attempted to contact Odo’s comm. He received no response, visual or verbal. After a moment, he decided that he didn’t have much choice. He would look like a fool if Quirk showed up and he was just sitting here—waiting.

He’d have to get out and look for Quark and Odo.

Puffing up his chest the way Leeta always encouraged him to when he climbed onto a podium at official ceremonies, he opened the shuttlecraft door, stepped out, and slowly began to tread across the slippery white surface.

The temperature, as he’d suspected, was much, much, much lower than he’d have preferred. I should have thought this through and brought a thicker tunic, he thought. His family had grown up in Ferenginar’s temperate belt, where it rained a lot, but the rain never got hard and crunchy like the stuff he was walking on. Kicking some of it, he thought, There are piles of the hard water everywhere. Why would anyone choose to live here?

His family never had accumulated much latinum, but he suddenly felt grateful that they’d been able to avoid this climate. He knew, of course, that was due to his moogie’s firm hand in steering the family’s financial course along the Great River. If Keldar had insisted on being in charge, they’d likely have wound up living in a terrible area like this. Or, at the very least, on the wrong side of the river, where all the unsuccessful families, the failed investors and entrepreneurs, tried to eke out a meager living.

Rom rubbed his already frigid hands together and looked around. No one was outside except for him. And since Odo wouldn’t—or maybe couldn’t—respond to the summons of his communicator, Rom decided to try contacting him the old-fashioned way.

“Odo?” he said, his voice coming out as a squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “ODO?”

Better, he realized, but he’d have to shout even louder. The wind was picking up, and sharp little pieces of white stuff were hitting his nose. Graupel, he thought. I’ve heard about this, but I’ve never seen it before. On impulse, he stuck out his tongue and caught a few pieces on its fleshy surface. The icy substance melted immediately, and Rom resisted an urge to giggle.

Okay, maybe this frosty stuff would have been fun to play in as a schoolboy. For a day or two.

He walked through the construction site, periodically shouting Odo’s name. His feet were getting cold, and he noticed that he was leaving footprints in the piles. Shivering, he paused to assess the situation.

This is stupid. I’m stupid. Maybe I should just wait for Quirk in my shuttle. At least I wouldn’t freeze to death.

Then his thoughts froze on another possibility. One that he’d been trying hard to avoid.

I could go investigate that dome thing—see if anyone’s in there.

He shuddered. Somehow he knew that if the goons were anywhere, they would be in there.

But of course, Odo might also be in there.

And Quark.

Come on, Rom, he urged himself, trying to make his feet move in that direction. But his feet seemed frozen in place—and not from the cold.

In desperation, he let out one last plaintive wail, hoping against hope that he’d get a response: “OOOOOOOHHH-DOOOOHHH! WHERE ARRRRRRRRRE YOOOOOOOUUUUU?”

And then, miracle of miracles, he heard a muffled cry: “Heeeellllllpppp meeeee!”

Rom looked around, wondering where the sound had come from. “HELLLLLLOOOOO?” he called.

At first, he could hear nothing other than the sound of the wind. Then: “Leeeetttt meeee ouuuuuutttt!”

It seemed to be coming from a small shed that he hadn’t noticed before. Rom shuffled toward it, stepping around a large accumulation of graupel to get to the door.

“Is somebody in there?” he said, his lips close to the door.

“Rom?”

The Nagus blinked in surprise as he recognized the voice. “Quark?”

“Rom! Thank Gint! Open the door!”

“Oh! Oh! Hang on, Brother!” Rom shouted, looking around for something to use as a battering ram. But there was nothing in the immediate vicinity. He looked down at his cold feet, then began to kick the door.

BAM!

BAM!

With his concentration entirely on opening that door and freeing Quark, the nagus didn’t notice the nearby pile of graupel shifting. A few tiny chinks appeared in its smooth surface. Then some large pieces rolled down, leaving trails. Finally an icy hand burst forth from the top of the pile . . . followed by a head, topped with a smaller pile of graupel.

BAM!

BAM!

As Rom continued to kick the door, a pair of frost-rimmed, bloodshot eyes opened behind him . . .

“What are you doing out there, Rom?” came Quark’s voice from within.

Rom paused in his efforts, panting heavily from the exertion. “I am trying . . . very . . . unsuccessfully . . . to get the door . . . open!”

“Well, try something else!”

Rom bent over to study the lock mechanism on the door. “Hmmm,” he said.

“What?” demanded Quark.

“It doesn’t look very complicated. There’s no biometric sensor. There’s not even a keypad. I think it works with an ordinary desealer.”

“Can you pick it?”

“Well, I could if I had my old desealing rod.”

“I’m hearing a big ‘if’ in that response. Let me guess—you didn’t bring it with you.”

“Well . . . no,” Rom admitted. “It’s at the Residence. Leeta sometimes uses it in the kitchen . . .”

“She what?”

“But I might have something in my shuttle that will work,” he added with an enthusiastic smile. He stood up straight. “It’ll only take me a minute to get it, and—”

Rom stopped, startled. He felt something weird . . . something warm on the back of his neck . . . Something breathing on his neck?

He spun around to see a large Ferengi standing right next to him, its orangey skin nearly purple with cold, its features distorted with rage.

The nagus closed his eyes and began to scream.