Quark sighed and muttered something about Leeta wanting him to help save the last tree.
Ro’s brow furrowed with concern as she asked whether things were really that bad on Ferenginar.
Quark snapped that he didn’t think there was anything bad about it at all, that nobody needed forests. He continued by grumbling that the last forest he’d been in was crawling with Jem’Hadar soldiers. And bugs. And that he hated nature.
Ro assured him that she loved nature and that Quark loved her.
Quark said “Feh.”
Ro told him to pack his bags because they were off to his old swamping grounds.
Quark said “Double feh” and packed his bags.
Quark said “Double feh” because it is an old Ferengi saying that means “I don’t understand women but I enjoy having them around so much that I do things I don’t really want to do.” I think all species have some such saying.
When Quark and Ro arrived on Ferenginar, rain-drenched and warp-lagged, Leeta rushed off her throne to embrace Ro warmly, which made Ro uncomfortable, then politely said hello to Quark from several feet away. Quark had bought the cheapest possible travel tickets, and so on the overcrowded transport no less than two babies and a Bringloidi salesman had vomited on him.
Quark greeted his relatives with all the glee of an American Earth man having a tax audit from the IRS.
He had no desire to help anyone do anything, least of all his wealthy extended family. He was not paying attention as Ishka fawned over Ro, asking her how she liked sleeping with someone so obscenely ugly as her son. Ishka continued the conversation by mentioning how odd that both her sons ended up with Bajorans for mates, not that there was anything wrong with that. He was not paying attention as Leeta explained that he had been granted a position in the government. That Quark, without realizing it, was part of a great history. That nine hundred years earlier, the Inestimable Flook had been appointed Minister of Deforestry. That a hundred years earlier Skink the Terrifier had been assigned to the same office under the new, more politically correct, title Minister of Forestry. That ten years ago the Unlikely Gurp had been forced to accept the call as Minister of Forest. Or that last week, in absentia, the role now known as Minister of Tree had fallen to Quark the Barkeep.
Quark paid no attention to this, or to Zek’s somnolent calls for his snuff box. He zoned out rather a lot as everyone else debated what to tell Ogger the next day when he returned, and in the midst of the debate no one came up with a plan at all.
The next day, Rom’s extended family was on hand to assist him when Ogger returned with his Board of Underlings, but Ogger had had all week long to plan what he would say and had his proposal rewritten by wiser heads the night before.
In a big bass voice Ogger asked, hypothetically, whether Rom would ask a Ferengi to stop strip mining dilithium just because warp drives damage space and dilithium is a nonrenewable resource. He pointed out that the Ferengi culture was based on dilithium. Dilithium-regulated reactions powered their homes. Dilithium resin was a key ingredient in every hovercar, computer, device, machine, utensil, children’s toy, adult’s toy, headskirt, and money belt on the planet. Ogger also mentioned that most of his friends rubbed dilithium on their food.
Leeta countered that it was very dangerous to base a whole society on one thing.
Ogger waved a mighty hand and speculated that when the dilithium ran out they would find something else. Perhaps whatever they used centuries ago to heat homes and build toys.
His vice-assistant, Orax, whispered that it had been fossil fuels.
Ogger cuffed Orax and yelled that there weren’t any fossil fuels left.
Orax quietly supposed they could use wood.
Ogger nodded sagely and repeated the idea that they’d simply use wood and wouldn’t the nagus stop being silly and let him cut the tree down.
Leeta asked who would even buy the tree’s paper products in a computerized society where eighty percent of the populace was functionally illiterate and totally concerned with the acquisition of liquid latinum in pressed gold bars.
Ogger pointed out that the Good Book (the Rules of Acquisition) was printed on paper and bound in wood. That stumped her for a moment, so he went on to brag of the success of paper clothes. He boasted that they were the latest fad and that everyone loved them.
Leeta shouted that nobody loved them because they got soggy in the perpetual Ferenginar rains and then disintegrated and left you naked. She blushingly added that no one would fool her twice.
Rom piped up that they wouldn’t fool him either…three times anyway.
Ogger pressed on, telling them that the tree could also be used to create cardboard boxes for take-out meals since environmentalists like Leeta were always saying that Tox-Foam containers were toxic.
Leeta said that was because they were.
Ogger said “Meh, meh, meh.”
Ogger said “Meh, meh, meh” because this is an old Ferengi saying that means, “I’m not one for listening to environmentalists.”
Zek woke himself long enough to shout that Ogger had better just shut up and obey the duly appointed nagus if he wanted to get into the Divine Treasury when he died.
Ogger then threatened to buy himself into office. His underlings all made a great deal of supportive noises. That’s what underlings are for.
Leeta shouted, rather stridently, that money didn’t run a democracy.
Ogger and his entourage laughed for thirty-five hours. One of the sub-nagul undersecretaries required major surgery for a ruptured spleen.
When he could speak again, Ogger bellowed an ultimatum.
Either the tree or the nagus would be gone at the end of three days.
Rom was understandably concerned, and when Ogger tromped out of the throne room Rom begged his relatives to find a way to help. He begged until it was night, then he begged most of the night. Quark got very little sleep, and he got very cross with Rom.
Rom begged throughout the second day, too. Didn’t they have any ideas? Zek had negotiated with the intractable Breen in his younger days. Ishka had overthrown the whole social order of their planet. Ro knew every weapon and combat technique in the Alpha Quadrant. Leeta was…loyal and beautiful. And Quark? Well, secretly, Quark wished he could be back on Deep Space 9, maybe putting the finishing touches on his holo-novel. (It was nearly done, and was entitled Vulcan Love Slave IV: T’Ris in Orion Bondage.)
On the second night, Rom begged harder. Ishka proposed killing Ogger. Ro seconded. Leeta vetoed them. Zek demanded pie.
And Quark came up with The Plan. The Plan hinged upon the notion that tough guys like Ogger are a superstitious and cowardly lot.
Later that night, Ogger was lounging alone in his extremely big bed in the huge bedroom of his giant house. Light drizzle spattered on his tremendously large wooden windowsill. Ogger looked out the window at Rom’s palace, and looked forward to cutting down a tree or a nagus in the morning. He was eating a delicious grilled cheeb sandwich. Ogger loved the rush of warm juice between his teeth from a nice grilled cheeb bug eaten in bed.
His ritual was suddenly interrupted by the rattling sound of worthless metal chains. Ogger shouted into the darkness to demand to know who was there. He threatened to release his trained attack spoogs. Then he flicked on his bedside light.
There, large and wrinkly as life, was the Grand Nagus Zek. Dead.
Zek was draped in chains and appeared colorless and translucent. His ghostly form passed through the bedpost and approached quite near to the frightened Ogger.
Zek claimed, with little preamble, that he had died during the night and was even now trapped between the Divine Treasury and the Vault of Eternal Destitution for the little known and seldom punished sin of genocide to no profit. He urged Ogger to avoid the same fate by withdrawing his petition, and warned that tree spirits would visit him in the night.
Ogger shrieked, admitting that he was secretly terrified of the number three.
Zek enunciated t
hat tree spirits were in the offing.
Ogger breathed a relieved thanks to the gods of wealth.
Zek admitted that there were three of them.
Ogger shrieked again.
Zek’s ancient, wizened, and liver-spotted face cackled sharply and faded away into the shadows.
Ogger quickly ran to his viewphone and dialed his therapist, his local priest, and his moogie. His therapist charged him nine strips of latinum to listen to his tale for nine minutes. His local priest offered to come to Ogger’s house and perform the mystic money-meld. (The money-meld is an ancient ritual where the priest grasps key points of one’s wallet and intones “My money to your money, your cash to my cash. Our money is now one.” Whereupon the worthy evangelist would run away very fast and leave one’s wallet empty.) Ogger’s moogie got angry with him for calling so late at night and threatened to take away his allowance. Since she hadn’t paid him a single latinum slip in years, this threat did not worry Ogger.
What did worry Ogger was the appearance of the first of the tree spirits, that is, until he got a good look.
The first tree spirit was as ephemeral as Zek had been, but the resemblance to a withered old man ended there. The first tree spirit reminded Ogger strongly of Leeta, only with green skin, scanty veils, and a fetching outfit of leaves and a bark-like cloth that barely covered her voluptuous body.
The first tree spirit declared her calling was to represent the Trees of the Spring Season, when the monsoons were light and cheerful. She asked whether her nubile trunk and willowy limbs inspired a love of trees within his breast.
Ogger assured the spirit that she inspired something, all right.
The Leeta-like dryad huffed slightly in an alluring way and explained carefully the wondrous life cycle of a tree, from promising seed to young sapling, bursting with sweet juices. How, the spirit begged, could he want to topple such a tree to the ground and despoil it?
Ogger made an unprintable offer to the spirit.
The spirit vanished rather quickly.
When the second spirit manifested, Ogger thought he could get to like this sort of thing. The second tree spirit looked like a Bajoran woman in minimal clothing as well: orange and gold, with perky berries and strategically placed branches.
The second tree spirit seemed a little less enthusiastic than the first. She told him in a perfunctory sort of way that her calling was to represent the Trees of the Fall Season when the deluge pours heavily on the plants and people alike.
Ogger said it was obvious who she was, as she was less voluptuous and juicy than the previous tree.
The dryad gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes, assuring him that if that was the case it was only because Ferengi of limited vision were sucking her resources dry. And he’d better watch out, as there was a third spirit yet to appear. The second tree spirit hiked up her flowing root-tendril skirts and stomped away, vanishing through the wall.
Ogger began to chew his fingernails in anticipation. What could the third spirit be, if these lovelies were the preshow?
The third tree spirit to appear was Quark.
Ogger shrieked.
The Quark-like tree had drooping, bare brown branches, gray-brown moss patches, and appeared quite surly and bad-tempered. It snapped briskly that it was supposed to represent the Trees of the Winter Season, when the rain stays mainly on the plain or something.
Ogger didn’t hear a word, as he was too busy shrieking at the hideous sight of Quark in a tree outfit in his bed. The Quark-tree sighed and said “Beware!” in a sarcastic tone of voice, then snapped his twig-fingers and disappeared.
Ogger regained his breath and composure in the silence of the next several minutes. This had been quite a harrowing experience for him and he was ready to renounce his evil ways.
Just then, the Quark-tree reappeared.
Ogger flailed in his fright, begged the spirit to go away and torment him no more, and then noticed that the ghostly image dissipated when he passed his hand through it much the same way a Yridian 77X hologram imager did.
The Quark-image explained that he was a holographic projection and that the whole stupid thing was a stupid sham for his stupid brother’s benefit. Quark asked if he could call the logger Og. Then, without pausing, asked Og if he’d like to make some real money and if he hated the nagus as much as he, Quark, did.
Ogger said he thought Rom was okay, generally….
Quark shouted that Rom was an idiot who didn’t deserve to keep breathing every day, or sitting on the throne that should have been his, and demanded to know if Ogger was getting especially tired of this hoopla over some rotted plant? Then he told Ogger what the pair of them could do about it.
Quark had a plan, children. You see, every government has a secret government within it somewhere to do the dirty work. The Cardassian Obsidian Order, the Romulan Tal Shiar, the hu-mon Section 31. The nagul government had a deadly clan of shadowy Ferengi in black trained in surveillance, secrecy, and covert operations. They were known as The Ear. They kept their existence so secret that even Rom didn’t know about them, and they didn’t want Rom to know about them because they didn’t like Rom very much. Zek could’ve told Rom about them before he retired, but the truth is Zek had forgotten. None but a select few could have found The Ear, and fewer still could have left their presence again alive.
Quark found them behind the last door of the last hall in the lowest, darkest level of the Nagul Palace. It was the first place he looked.
There was a disruptor pistol in the crook of his neck the instant he sauntered in the door, and a deep, muffled voice asking how he’d found them.
Quark intimated that he knew a guy whose cousin’s girlfriend knew a guy.
The voice told him to never mind and that he wasn’t leaving alive.
Quark said if they killed the nagus’s beloved older brother, they’d answer to all Ferenginar.
The voice told him he wasn’t beloved and that Rom had tried (albeit ineptly) to kill Quark eight years before, or had Quark forgotten?
Quark assured the evil agent that true brothers let bygones be bygones.
The evil agent asked why Quark had come.
Quark said he needed them to kill his brother tomorrow on a hunting trip.
The agent agreed without any haggling, certain that Quark would pay handsomely once he inherited the throne, and set his assassins the task of sending Rom to the Divine Treasury.
The following morning, Rom was happy to be surrounded by his loving, faithful family and happily whistling “The Dark, Dank Muck of Home” when Ogger showed up and ruined his mood.
Ogger announced that in the night he’d been visited by ominous nocturnal specters that had made ominous statements in their ominous way and seemed to be telling him he shouldn’t try to profit from the final tree.
Rom asked if Ogger would now withdraw his request to kill the last tree.
Ogger said he certainly would not.
Rom prodded tentatively whether Ogger wasn’t afraid of the specters.
Ogger said he wouldn’t bow down to spectral interest groups, then proposed that Rom accompany him on an innocent hunting trip over by the last tree this morning. Ogger insisted on a contest of skill in which the first of them to kill a giant, bloated swamp slug would have his way in the matter.
Rom’s throat felt suddenly very dry and he turned to his family for help. None of them seemed to be looking at him except Quark. There was a funny glint in Quark’s eye and he told Rom it sounded like a fine idea for a morning execution…excursion.
So it was that Rom found himself with a crossbow in hand, peering into the morning fog, ankle deep in the sludge of Slug Swamp. Ishka had dressed him warmly and Leeta had kissed him good-bye. Now he was feeling uneasy, uncertain, and unbelievably out of his depth. Rom had trouble remembering which boot went on which foot some days, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t work a crossbow.
Ogger, on the other hand, taught archery at the Ogger College of Archery and Pla
sma Whippery. If there was one thing Ogger loved more than whipping, eating, or cutting down trees, it was sinking his arrow shaft into the flank of a powerful oily slug.
Quark, in hip waders at Rom’s side, waited for his plan to turn a profit.
A docile group of mammoth slugs, ten meters long and seven meters high, grazed quietly on swamp algae and occasionally bleated a sluggish call to the chill morning air. A cold rain fell lightly, but incessantly, on slugs and hunters alike, and also on the spindly form of the sickly last tree.
Rom stood under it and wondered if it had been worth all the worry. He also wondered how quickly he would lose this contest.
Rom asked Ogger if he wouldn’t rather play chess for the tree, instead. Ogger laughed, slapping Quark on the back until Quark laughed, too. Then Ogger pointed out that Rom was very far away from any witnesses, standing between two men who wished him harm: one of whom had a rapid-fire crossbow, the other of whom had hired a band of assassins to take Rom’s life.
Rom looked in shock at Quark, feeling very, very dismayed, and a little bit hurt. Quark shrugged and reminded him that business was business, and hadn’t he tried to shove Quark out an airlock during the week when Quark had been nagus eight years before?
Rom said he thought bygones would be bygones.
Ogger wondered aloud where Quark’s assassins had gotten to.
Lieutenant Ro Laren emerged from her concealment behind a mother slug. She quickly tossed an unconscious black-clad assassin into the muck, leveled a phaser gun at Ogger, and told him he was under arrest for treason under Article Nine of the Profit Margin.
You see, children, Lieutenant Ro had followed the hunting party surreptitiously and neutralized the assassins of the Ear one by one, or a couple at a time. Earlier that morning, she had had the directors of that shadowy cabal arrested as well. If only there’d been some trees around, the Ear would’ve had some cover while sneaking up to attack the nagus. As it was, Ro had seen them coming a mile away. She had taken them out with a dizzying combination of Federation judo, Bajoran martial-arts prowess, and general kicks and pokes. She also had a phaser gun.
Strange New Worlds IX Page 16
