“All right,” Nog said. “As long as we eat at Uncle Quark’s.”
“Is that a good idea? Won’t Rom separate us?” asked Jake. Rom was Nog’s father, and he usually sent Nog to his room if he caught the two friends together. He regarded Jake as a bad influence.
“That’s all right,” said Nog. “My father’s away on a purchasing run, and my uncle won’t mind if people see us in public there—especially if you pay.”
“Al1 right. It’s a deal,” Jake said.
But Nog insisted that they leave the arcade separately. Jake went first, strolling out into a crowded Promenade. He entered Quark’s place, and in the restaurant section he was pleased to see his teacher, Keiko O’Brien, at a table with her daughter, Molly. Keiko was a human of Japanese background, with kind brown eyes and black hair. She took her duties as schoolteacher seriously. Her daughter, Molly, was about three years old. Right now, Keiko was eating some rice-and-vegetable dish with chopsticks. Molly was airpainting.
Molly had a holodisk on the table in front of her, and it sent up a clear column of light. When Molly swept her hands through it, the light changed colors, to brilliant red or yellow or blue, or any combination. Molly was making a three-dimensional painting—of what, Jake could not tell. It looked like a pumpkin balanced on a metal cylinder, but she was changing it as he watched.
“Hello, Jake,” Keiko said, looking pleased to see him. “Want to join us?”
Jake smiled at her. “No, thanks. I’m waiting for Nog. I finished my math homework.”
“Good for you,” Keiko said with a laugh. “I told you that you could understand it if you just kept trying.” Beside her, Molly began to chatter away. She could be a talkative little girl, and she often had conversations with herself.
Nog came in, and Jake waved to him. “We’ll sit over there,” he said, choosing a table close to Keiko’s. “I don’t think it would be good for Nog to sit with three humans at once.”
Keiko gave a wry smile. “I know what you mean,” she said.
Nog joined him and, after a glance around, said hello to Keiko. He had attended her school for a while, but his father had taken him out. Nog still liked Keiko, and he even tolerated Molly.
Quark himself came over to the table. “Well, well,” he said. “My nephew is with the bad influence again.”
Jake and Nog both grinned. Quark, who had long dealt with just about every space-traveling race that passed through Deep Space Nine, was much more easygoing than Nog’s father. “I’m trying to teach him to be a good businessman, Uncle,” Nog said.
Quark shook his head in mock alarm. “Stop giving away our trade secrets right now!” he ordered. “What do you two want?”
“Mmm … I’ll have a chocolate malted,” Jake said. “Nice and thick.”
Nog made a face. “Cow juice!” he said in horror.
“Uncle, I want a glop, with some Bajoran fizz.”
“And who’s paying?” Quark asked.
Jake shrugged. “I’ll get it this time.”
“Most generous,” Quark said, and he turned away to get their order.
“Well, Nog, are you keeping busy?” Keiko leaned over to ask.
Nog made a hand gesture that implied, Yes, but I’m bored. He said, “I have to admit that I miss school.”
“Well, maybe one day you can come back,” Keiko said.
Beside her mother, Molly continued to chatter away, just as if she were talking to a real person. She said, “These are your eyes. And this is your chin. And this is your tummy. And these are your funny hands.”
Nog frowned. “Does she have to do that?” he demanded.
Keiko smiled at him. “She’s playing with her invisible friend. lots of children have them. Didn’t you when you were younger?”
Nog shook his head. “No. Ferengi are concerned with the real universe.”
“Oh, Dhraako is real—to Molly,” said Keiko. “She’s been talking to him for several days now.”
“Dhraako?” asked Jake.
“That’s what she says his name is,” Keiko said. “He is very tall and thin, and he wears a silver robe with a hood. And his eyes burn like red fire.”
Nog leapt up from the table. “No!” he shouted.
People at nearby tables looked up in surprise. In a concerned voice Keiko asked, “Nog, what is it?”
“She sees a Ferengest!” Nog said, staring around the room with wild eyes. “An ancestral spirit!”
“Hey,” Jake said, “calm down. It’s just something Molly dreamed up, that’s all.”
Quark was hurrying over, carrying a tray with the boys’ order on it. Nog, shaking, stared at the silver shape that Molly had finished sketching in the air above her holodisk. “A spirit!” he shrieked. “Help! Don’t let it come near me!” And then he spun and ran. He collided with his uncle. Quark sat down hard on the floor, the tray sailed through the air, and the chocolate malted landed right on Quark’s bald head. Nog paid no attention but dashed out into the Promenade. In a moment he was gone.
With chocolate malted running down his face, Quark got to his feet, glaring at the mess. “Someone’s going to pay for this,” he said. “And I think it’s going to be my nephew. What did he—” Quark broke off, his eyes wide as he stared at Molly’s air sketch. “A Ferengest!” he said with a sharp hiss. Then he, too, turned and fled.
Jake and Keiko stared at each other. Then they looked at the form that Molly had doodled. It looked a little like a skinny humanoid, dressed in a silvery robe. A hood shaded the face, but two red eyes glared out. Molly glanced up and smiled. “Dhraako’s gone now,” she said. “He followed Nog.” Then she touched the holodisk, switching off the image.
CHAPTER 2
Before Jake could follow his friend, Keiko shook her head in exasperation. “What mischief is Nog up to now, Jake?” she asked.
Jake shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s going to be in trouble when Quark catches him, though.” Jake turned to his teacher. “What did they say about a—a Ferengest, was it?”
With a sigh Keiko admitted, “I didn’t understand it. Another one of Nog’s pranks, I suppose.”
A waiter had come out to clean up the mess. Suddenly Jake was no longer hungry. He hurried out into the Promenade, looking for any sign of Nog. The Ferengi boy was nowhere to be seen among the crowds of Bajorans, humans, Vulcans, and others. After a moment of hesitation, Jake turned and made his way toward Operations, where his father’s office was. Jake’s mother had died years before, and Commander Benjamin Sisko was trying hard to act as both mother and father to Jake. Though Jake knew how busy his father was, the big, forceful man always had time—or made time—to talk to his son.
Jake spoke to several of the station’s crewmembers as he approached his father’s office. One of them, his father’s Bajoran aide, stood against the wall near the office door, looking angry. She was the auburn-haired Major Kira Nerys, who once had been a Bajoran freedom fighter when the brutal Cardassian overlords were busy stripping Bajor of all its natural resources. Now she represented Bajor aboard Deep Space Nine and helped the Bajorans in their exchanges with the Federation
“Hi, Major,” Jake said to her. “Is Dad busy?”
“Very,” she snapped. “He’s dealing with some garbage.”
Jake blinked. “Huh?” His father took care of many things aboard Deep Space Nine, but refuse recycling wasn’t one of them. “What do you mean?”
With a toss of her head Major Kira said, “I’m sorry, Jake. Those Cardassian traders—that’s what Gul Chok’s crew call themselves, anyhow—are negotiating to use Deep Space Nine as a way station for their mineral freighters. And I’m worried that Starfleet will go along with the deal.”
Jake swallowed. During the Cardassian occupation of Bajor, Major Kira had fought the Cardassians in many bitter battles, and she was not the type of person to forgive and forget. “Do you think he’ll have time to see me?” he asked in a small voice.
“Maybe,” the major said. “I only left beca
use I needed some fresh air.” She tilted her head and gave him her cool, direct gaze. “You have a problem,” she said.
Jake grinned. “You’re pretty sharp.” After a moment he added, “Do you happen to know anything about Ferengi?”
“Enough to count my fingers after shaking hands with one,” replied Major Kira. “Seriously, what do you want to know?”
“Well—Nog mentioned something about a ‘Ferengest.’ I’ve never heard of it before, and I wanted to find out what it is.”
With a laugh Major Kira said, “Knowing Nog, it’s probably a new way to set off a stink bomb in the Promenade.” She glanced at the office door, sighed, and said, “Come on. I don’t have anything better to do.”
She led Jake to a computer console. “Computer,” she said, “access data storage, xenobiology section, topic Ferengi, subtopic Ferengi language.”
“Working,” the computer said, and in a moment it added, “Ready.”
“All right, Jake,” she said. “It’s all yours.”
As Major Kira walked back toward Ops, Jake slipped into the chair in front of the computer console. “Computer,” he said, “please identify Ferengi word Ferengest.”
The visual display immediately showed a caped, hooded figure with a huge head, glowing orange eyes, and a menacing attitude. The computer said, “A Ferengest is an ancestral spirit. In Ferengi folklore, a Ferengest is a vengeful ghost that haunts its descendants when they violate Ferengi customs or ethics. An unfortunate clan haunted by a Ferengest has bad luck in all of its dealings. Its fortune dwindles and disappears. Other Ferengi shun and ridicule the haunted family, until the Ferengest spirit is appeased by repentance and sacrifice. In extreme cases, clans may be utterly destroyed by the Ferengest.”
Despite himself, Jake could not help grinning. A Ferengest was some kind of ghost? He did not believe in ghosts, spooks, or spirits, and he was surprised to find that Nog did. With a critical eye Jake looked at the image of the Ferengest. He had to admit that it looked a little like the childish figure that Molly had sketched—but only a little.
The computer said, “An amplified discussion of Ferengi mystical beliefs and practices is available. Would you like to access that, or would you care for a list of related topics?”
“No,” Jake said. “That’s all.”
He got out of the seat and went back toward his father’s office. The door was open now, and Major Kira was nowhere in sight. Jake walked up to the door, saying, “Dad?”
He paused just inside the doorway. His father was standing behind his desk, an ominous expression on his dark face. Before him stood three straight, stiff figures—Cardassians. Their plated skins were flushed with emotion, and their heavy necks were stiff with anger and pride. No one noticed Jake. He sensed that an argument was going on. “We know our rights,” one of the Cardassians was saying hotly. “We have signed a truce with the Federation, and our request for storage and docking facilities at Deep Space Nine is a reasonable, peaceful one. You cannot legally deny us—”
Sisko brought his hand down on the desk with a sharp report. “You haven’t been listening, Gul Chok,” he said, his tone deadly calm. “Deep Space Nine is not a Federation installation. It is a cooperative venture with the Bajorans. I have no authority to agree to anything without the joint approval of the Federation and the Bajoran government—”
“A government of slaves!” responded the Cardassian. “You can’t seriously pretend that these—these insignificant grazing animals have an equal voice with Starfleet—”
Sisko’s dark eyes flashed. He held up a hand, cutting off the Cardassian in mid-rant. “Understand this!” he snapped. “The Federation regards all sentient species as equals. I will not have you stand in my office and make racist remarks—”
Another Cardassian interrupted; “Your office? May I remind you that we Cardassians constructed this station? Some of us regard Starfleet as little more than a pack of thieves who stole this valuable installation from its rightful owners.”
With a visible effort Sisko controlled his temper. “I assure you,” he said coldly, “I am constantly aware that Cardassians designed and built this station. I am equally aware that your people left it in a state of—shall we say—marginal operational capacity? Despite your government’s assurances that you would turn the station over to us in perfect condition, we occupied a stripped, disabled facility that—”
“This is beside the point,” the leader of the Cardassians objected.
Sisko turned away. When he faced the Cardassians again, he had regained his composure. “You are right, Gul Chok. Very well. I will transmit your application for use of Deep Space Nine to both Starfleet and the Bajoran government. Then they will have to confer and reach a mutually acceptable agreement. The decision will probably take a few days.”
“We will give you half a day,” said the Cardassian. “If you refuse us this concession after that time, I shall report to my government that Starfleet is failing to honor the strict terms of our treaty. I cannot speak for my government, but personally I would consider such behavior an act of war.”
A hand suddenly clamped onto Jake’s shoulder, and he yelped in surprise. The person who had grabbed him roughly thrust him forward. “A spy!” rasped a harsh Cardassian voice. “A human spy—perhaps an assassin!”
Sisko moved around his desk with the grace and menace of a panther. “You will take your hands off my son,” he said, his voice a deadly whiplash of controlled anger.
“I say he is a spy!” the Cardassian repeated. “And Cardassians do not surrender spies—”
“I think it best,” said a level voice, “if you do what the commander requests. Otherwise, I shall deal with you myself.”
The hand released Jake’s shoulder.
Sisko said, “Come here, son.”
Jake hurried to his father’s side. The Cardassian who had seized him was standing straight, his expression wary. Behind him stood a huge, muscular man, Chief of Security Odo. Odo took a step back, and with a soft squishy noise, his body melted, shimmered, and re-formed into its normal size and shape. Odo in reality was much shorter and slighter than he had made himself appear.
“Thank you, Odo,” Sisko said.
“Only my duty, Commander,” responded the shapeshifter. “Shall I escort these … gentlemen to our guest quarters?”
Drawing himself up, the Cardassian captain said, “We would not feel secure aboard this station, among spies and traitors. There is an old Cardassian saying, Commander. ‘A warrior sleeps but poorly in an enemy’s tent.’ My crew and I will continue to sleep aboard our ship.” To Sisko, the captain added, “Remember, Commander, you will have twelve standard hours before I file my report. I would advise you to consider the possible results most carefully.” He strode out, and the other three followed without even a backward glance.
Beside Jake, Sisko relaxed. “Whew!” he said. “Of all the hardheaded, abrasive characters—”
With his hands behind his back, Chief Odo said, “I have arranged for Security to escort the Cardassians back to their ship, Commander.”
Sisko shook his head. “I don’t think they would care to be escorted, Odo.”
“Oh, they won’t be aware of the escort,” Odo said.
“But it’s in place, all along their route. If they should leave that route, my people will remind them—gently—of the path they should take to their docking station.”
With a grin Sisko said, “Thank you very much, Chief. And thanks for coming to Jake’s rescue.”
“I was only doing my duty,” repeated Odo. “Will that be all?”
“No. I’ll want to make some special arrangements for station security with you—but first I have to get this Cardassian request in shape for transmission.”
Sisko held up a datapadd, a computerized recording device a little more sophisticated than Jake’s school padd. “Wait outside, and I’ll be along in a moment.”
“Very well, Commander.”
When Odo had gone,
Sisko turned to Jake. “Son, you picked a bad time to visit,” he said with a hint of reproach.
Jake felt a mild regret. “Sorry, Dad. I wanted to talk to you about Nog—”
“I don’t have time right now, son. As you heard, the Cardassians are being a little—well,let’s be kind and say they’re being insistent.” He tapped the computer log. “Now you’d better run along. I have to take care of this right away.”
“But Nog’s acting strange,” insisted Jake. “He—”
“Nog is always acting strange,” Sisko said. “That’s part of the peculiar nature of a Ferengi. What’s Nog done this time? Changed the food replicators so that chocolate malteds come out as puréed slug slime? Scrambled the communicators so when you call Keiko you get Lieutenant Dax? Made a hole in Odo’s sleeping pail?”
“No, he—”
Sisko held up a hand, cutting Jake off. “I’m sorry, son. I’m really busy. Later, all right?”
Jake sighed. “All right,” he said. “Sorry.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
Chief Odo was just outside the office. As Jake passed, the security chief said, “Nog didn’t really put a hole in my sleeping pail, did he?”
“Well, no,” Jake said. Everyone knew that the chief of security was, in his natural state, a kind of glistening liquid protoplasm. He could change his body to resemble almost anything. Most of the time he maintained a basic humanoid shape to deal with the residents of Deep Space Nine, but when he slept at night, he reverted to his liquid form. If the pail he slept in did have a hole in it, Odo could seep out and ooze all over the floor before he woke up. That would be very messy. Nog hadn’t put a hole in Odo’s pail.
He had only talked, once or twice, about trying to do it.
“Odo,” Jake said, “do you know anything about Ferengi?”
“A little,” Odo said. “Enough to keep an eye on that shady character Quark, anyway.”
“Have you ever heard of a Ferengest?” Jake asked.
Odo frowned slightly. “Hmm. A ghost of some sort, I believe?”
“Do Ferengi really believe in them?” asked Jake.
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Young Adult Books #1: The Star Ghost Page 2
