by Mel Gilden
He looked down at Babe. “I would return the creature to his homeworld, but that is not possible.” He looked over at Darm. “We stopped at many worlds, and my third officer is uncertain as to which one the creature came from.” Pavlov stroked his beard. “There is no place for the creature on the Ulysses.” He glared at Darm. “And I suspect that my third officer lacks the temperament to keep or care for a pet.”
Captain Pavlov smiled at Jake and Nog. “Therefore, my decision is to transfer custody of the creature to the two lads.” He looked at Sisko. “If that meets with your approval, Commander.”
“It does. On one condition.” Sisko looked at Jake and Nog. “Babe is your responsibility. You must both promise me that you will care for him—and train him so that he does not create a problem on the station.”
Jake saw his father’s serious expression. Whatever Benjamin Sisko said when he wore that expression, he meant.
“We promise, Dad.”
After the meeting Jake and Nog had just enough time to get to school if they didn’t drop Babe off at the Sisko quarters. So the furry alien creature spent his first day as an official Deep Space Nine resident accompanying his new masters to class.
Babe was, of course, an immediate hit—even with Keiko O’Brien, who found Babe’s presence beneficial in stimulating her young charges into thinking about responsibility. There were very few permanent pets on Deep Space Nine because it was still more of a way station than a family settlement.
“But didn’t the early pioneers on Earth take dogs along when they crossed the frontier?” Jake asked.
“Yes, they did. But those dogs were not pets. They were working animals, like the cowboys’ horses.”
“What’s the difference?” asked the daughter of one of the Bajoran shopkeepers.
“Dumb animals,” Keiko began, then paused as she smiled at Babe. “I should say ‘non-sentient’ creatures. No disrespect to you, Babe. We humans tend to refer to creatures we dominate as ‘dumb,’ even when many of them are lot smarter than their owners.”
Jake hoped she wasn’t talking about him and Nog.
“Our animals fall into two categories. The first is the working animal, like the dogs originally bred from wolves that helped early people on Earth hunt or protect their herds. The second, a category which appeared more recently in our history, contains animals that are kept by people as companions. These are pets.”
“Babe is our pet,” Nog proclaimed proudly.
“Then,” replied Keiko, “you have accepted the responsibility to care for him. You and Jake have become his parents.”
Jake and Nog traded glances. They understood the seriousness of their responsibility.
“In the beginning it is a lot of fun to have a pet,” Keiko continued. “But there will be times when Babe creates problems and you might wish he wasn’t around. And there will be a time when he gets old and sick. But he remains your responsibility, and you cannot discard him like a toy that is broken.”
“We’d never do that to Babe,” Jake assured her.
Keiko smiled. “No, Jake. I know you wouldn’t.”
When school was out for the day, Jake and Nog hurried to the Promenade with Babe tagging along at their heels. It was still crowded as they made their way toward Quark’s.
The shopkeepers and pedestrians they passed were properly impressed by the golden-horned creature who tagged along behind them, which put Jake and Nog in the mood to celebrate.
Which they did. They sat in a corner of Quark’s that was reserved for family groups. It was a rather small corner, with only two tables, since Quark preferred a different clientele. Families gave the place some air of respectability, but respectable folks also tended to keep most of their money in their pockets.
Quark preferred the rough-and-ready types who spent their wages freely, liked their drinks strong, and weren’t adverse to trying their luck at the dabo wheel. Fortunately for Quark, very few of them had any luck.
“So, nephew, and young Sisko,” Quark greeted the boys as they sat down. “What will it be? Something special for a special day?”
There was no hesitation as they replied in unison. “Two Ventaxan Volcano Sundaes.” It was a special day, Jake thought. But it was special because of Babe, not the wormhole anniversary.
Quark looked down at Babe. “And for your furry friend?”
Jake hadn’t thought about ordering for Babe. He didn’t even know what he ate. Except for drinking some water, Babe hadn’t eaten anything the day before. Nor did he seem hungry now.
“Nothing,” Jake told Quark and shrugged.
When Quark left, Jake leaned over to Nog. “We better not give Babe anything until we have Dr. Bashir check him out. We don’t want to make him sick.”
“Good idea,” Nog agreed.
While waiting for their sundaes, Jake turned his attention to what had become one of his favorite activities on Deep Space Nine—people watching.
The unusual and often outright bizarre travelers that passed through the station stirred Jake’s imagination. He liked to speculate on the kind of planets these strange people might have come from, and to imagine the exciting worlds where they might be going.
That two-headed Benzian miner slurping a double dish of some kind of blue soup was a good example. Jake wondered what it would be like to have two heads. Did the two heads ever argue? It would be pretty hard to stomp out of the room and leave your other head behind.
Or the lizard-skinned Alborian salesman who was tallying up his day’s orders on a tri-dimensional holoscreen. Jake wanted to pretend the salesman was a weapons dealer operating on the edge of Federation law, though the hologram samples shown on his display looked more like household cleaning gadgets.
But when his gaze fell upon a dark corner of the room, secluded from the rest of Quark’s by some thick brown Bajoran flora, Jake saw Darm watching them. The intensity of the spacer’s cold glare frightened Jake.
Seated across the table from Darm was a nasty-looking turtle-necked alien who was using his long black tongue to snap up live insects from a slimy heap that looked more like it came from the garbage disposal than from the food replicator.
Jake quickly averted his eyes. “It’s Darm,” he whispered to Nog.
“Relax,” Nog replied. “He’s not going to bother us.”
But even as Nog was assuring Jake, Darm was crossing the room. Much too soon he stood at their table towering over them like some evil specter.
Babe, who had been quietly resting beneath the table, emerged with what could only have been a growl. Darm took a quick step back but retreated no farther.
“We got off to a bad start. Let’s be friends.” Darm tried to be nice, but he obviously hadn’t had much practice in the art of polite conversation. His offer of friendship was about as sincere as a Horax inviting you to dinner, and forgetting to mention that you were going to be the main course.
“Let’s not,” Nog said.
Darm looked at the small Ferengi. Slowly he turned a grimace into a poor example of a smile. “Okay. Forget friendship. Ferengi are dealers. So let’s make a deal.”
“What kind of a deal?” Nog asked.
Jake saw Nog’s eyes take on that special Ferengi glaze, and knew that in spite of Nog’s dislike for this spacer, he was too much a Ferengi to ignore any opportunity to make a profit.
“I’ll buy the creature back from you,” Darm quickly said, seizing the opportunity.
“He’s not for sale,” Jake declared.
Darm ignored Jake and aimed his argument at Nog. “I’ll give you a handsome profit.”
“Why would you want Babe?” Nog inquired.
Darm leaned close to the Ferengi’s oversize ear. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you kids got me in kind of a bind.” Darm glanced over his shoulder at the insect-eating alien in the corner. “My friend with the strange appetite collects things. Living things. Kind of like a zoo.”
Darm pointed to Babe, who was hiding under the tabl
e again. “That little creature is a new life form from the Gamma Quadrant, and my friend will pay a lot to add him to his collection.”
Dad was right, Jake thought. Darm didn’t care about Babe. He only wanted the creature so he could sell him.
Nog actually seemed to be considering Darm’s offer, which disturbed Jake. But then Nog’s human attributes overcame his inherent Ferengi greed. “No sale. At any price.”
“I can make a good deal with my slithery friend over there.” Darm threw a look back at where his alien companion was busily snapping up flies. “And I don’t want you two ruining it. Sell me the creature or you’ll be sorry—very sorry!”
Jake wasn’t sure what Darm intended to do next, and he was glad not to have the opportunity to find out, for at that moment Quark arrived with two huge Ventaxan Volcano Sundaes.
Intentionally or not, Quark deposited the two fiery desserts on the table so that the smoke curled up into Darm’s face. The spacer coughed, threw a threatening “I’ll be back” glare, and stomped off.
“Enjoy,” Quark said as he returned to the bar.
Jake and Nog could hardy wait for the burning volcanoes of the Ventaxan dessert to cool. But Babe didn’t seem to mind the heat, because he tried to grab a bite of Jake’s sundae.
“No,” Jake told him. “This isn’t healthy for you.”
Babe made a low noise that seemed to say “I know what’s good for me.” Jake might have relented, but Nog reminded him that they needed to check with Dr. Bashir before feeding Babe anything.
“Sorry, Babe,” Jake told the creature. “It’s for your own good.” Jake silently grimaced as he said the words that his father had often used on him, and which he had sworn never to use on someone else.
Apparently satisfied with the reprimand, Babe sat down. Jake and Nog turned their full attention to the sundaes, which were now ready to eat.
So engrossed were the boys in devouring their desserts that they didn’t notice what has happening around them until they heard Quark’s frantic scream.
“Fire!”
Jake looked up to see that an enormous replica of the Ventaxan Volcano had materialized out of nowhere. It was ten feet high and raging out of control in the middle of the floor, right in front of Babe. Smoke, ash, and a huge column of flame spiraled toward the ceiling.
“Fire!” someone yelled again, but it was certainly unnecessary as the center of Quark’s Place seemed to have exploded into flames. Patrons were leaving rapidly, though most had the good sense to take their drinks with them. The smoke was turning Quark’s into a disaster zone.
“The sprinklers! They’re supposed to be automatic!” Quark yelled. “I’ll have O’Brien’s hide for this!”
Nog got up and ran to the manual controls on the wall. “I’ll turn them on, Uncle Quark!”
Jake grabbed Babe and pulled him away from the volcano, which was spurting red-hot chocolate lava rocks in all directions. “Babe! Get away!”
At that moment the sprinklers came on. Quark’s was drenched in a deluge of fire-quenching liquid.
Nog joined Jake and Babe. “I think we’d better leave,” he suggested.
Jake wasn’t quite sure how they could be held responsible for this, but the look that Quark was giving them indicated that staying around wasn’t a good idea.
As they made their retreat, Jake looked back through the downpour and saw that the volcano was not only out—it had vanished.
CHAPTER 4
The day that had begun in the commander’s office on such a high note ended there on a much lower one.
Jake, Nog, and Babe sat against the wall awaiting their fate. Jake knew they would not be shot, hung up by their feet, or fed to Cardassian leeches, but that did not prevent him from worrying about how much of the incident at Quark’s they would be blamed for. Jake was careful to avert his eyes whenever the commander glanced in his direction while Odo made his report.
“Thank you, Constable,” Sisko said when the security chief had finished.
“This is Quark’s estimate of damages.” Odo handed the document to Sisko, who quickly scanned the list.
“For an estimate, this is certainly detailed.” Sisko set the document on the desk, then picked it up again for a second look. “There’s no item for fire damage.”
“There was none,” Odo replied.
“I don’t understand. The sprinklers were turned on because there was a fire.”
“There appeared to be a fire, Commander. The evidence supports the fact that any fire was just that—an appearance.”
“I’m not sure what you’re telling me, Constable. Was there a fire or wasn’t there?”
“To rephrase one of your quaint Earth sayings, where there’s smoke, there is not always fire. Nothing in Quark’s was burned.”
“You’re telling me it was a mass hallucination?”
“Given that it was late afternoon and the customers who frequent Quark’s are not the most reliable, I suspect that the sight of the flaming dessert ordered by Jake and Nog prompted one of them to believe the establishment was on fire.”
“I see. And everyone else panicked before they realized there was nothing to panic about. Thank you, Odo. That will be all.” Commander Sisko now turned his attention to Jake and Nog.
“Young man.” Jake cringed whenever his father used that term. “How do you explain this?”
“We didn’t do anything wrong, Commander,” Nog insisted.
“I’m not blaming you.” The commander replied to Nog, but his gaze remained fixed on his son. The word yet was not spoken, but Jake could feel its presence all the same.
“We don’t know what happened, Dad. That’s the honest truth. All of a sudden there was fire and smoke everywhere. I pulled Babe away from the flames, and Nog turned on the sprinklers.”
Sisko stood up and scratched his head. “This whole thing is a puzzle. Everyone says there was a fire, but nothing was burned.”
“However, the damage from the fire-quenching spray is real,” Odo added.
“True. But I can hardly discipline young Nog for trying to prevent what he believed was a disaster.”
“What do I tell Quark?”
“That Starfleet will reimburse him for his damages—” Sisko picked up the document and handed it to Odo. “His actual damages.”
“I’ll make that quite clear.” Odo turned and left the office.
When the door closed, Sisko looked at his son. “I’m not sure exactly what happened at Quark’s. But you three seem to be off the hook—for the moment.”
“Then we can go?” Jake asked.
“Yes. But try to keep yourselves—and your pet—out of trouble. At least for the rest of the day.”
Jake and Nog headed back to the Promenade with Babe tagging along beside them. Jake wasn’t quite sure what, if anything, they had actually done. But when adults were involved, a kid didn’t always have to do anything to get blamed. Even his dad sometimes responded as though kids were as naturally devious as Ferengi. Which was why the commander had never totally approved of Nog as Jake’s best friend.
They took a turbolift that deposited them on the observation deck.
Jake paused in front of the window that faced out onto the location where he knew the wormhole lay, and wondered when he would get a chance to travel through the interstellar tunnel which connected this section of space with the Gamma Quadrant, more than seventy thousand light years away.
Jake used when rather than if knowing that sometime he would be going out to the stars, perhaps even to Babe’s home planet, wherever it was.
“Somehow,” Jake told Nog, “we have to get Babe home again.”
“You want to hand over our pet to some stranger after Captain Pavlov gave him to us?” Nog asked.
Jake reached his hand down and gently rubbed the soft fur of Babe’s horn. He must be lonely, Jake thought. Much as he would hate to part with this new companion, Jake would not hesitate to give him up if there was a way that Babe could go home a
gain. “We have to think of what’s best for Babe. He may be lonely for his real owner.”
Babe rubbed against his leg as though he understood what Jake was thinking and appreciated the boy’s concern. Then, like a puppy with a new world to explore, Babe bounced off and ran ahead of them toward the stairs that led down to the crowded main concourse.
It was evening and Quark had stopped selling souvenirs. He now featured a pair of beautiful Bajoran girls in native costumes beckoning passersby to enter Quark’s for a friendly spin at the dabo wheel. Now the bright family circus atmosphere of the day had turned to the more garish appeal of a rimworld sidestreet.
Jake noticed that Babe, rather than jogging along at their heels, had become confident enough to wander off on short exploratory jaunts. He never strayed too far, however, as though realizing that his archnemesis, Darm, was still in the neighborhood.
“Jake! Look over there!” Nog stopped short. Jake, who had been watching Babe, almost collided with him.
They were standing in front of three rotating holographic spheres that announced—or rather, shouted—their message to potential customers:
HERE NOW!
“MONSTER OF THE LOST PLANET”
THE ADVENTURE IS ALL IN YOUR MIND!
The spheres, pulsating with all the colors of the rainbow, beckoned the curious to enter the hologame shop. Jake and Nog watched in awe as the advertising message exploded into a preview of the game itself. Daring spacemen fought purple monsters, who sported multiple black horns and scarlet tails that were sharp as spears. The spacemen, who looked surprisingly like Jake and Nog, battled in the craters of a brown desert planet that had three moons in the background.
“That’s us!” Nog exclaimed, pointing to the spacemen in the hologram.
Jake nodded knowingly. “The sensor scans whoever is closest and programs their image into the display.” In spite of himself, Jake was impressed.
“It’s the new game we’ve been hearing about,” Nog said as the preview blinked off.
Jarad the Bajoran shopkeeper stepped up beside them. Most of his products were intended for the same audience that frequented Quark’s holosuites and were not really suitable for family audiences. But he did carry a small line of kids’ entertainments as a courtesy for the growing number of children on Deep Space Nine and for space travelers who purchased them as homecoming gifts.
