The remnants of the 200-ship strong Federation fleet had regrouped at Deep Space Nine, the closest point for their rendezvous with the Klingons and the Romulans.
Onboard DS9, Major Kira, temporarily in command of the station, talked with Odo."We can't trust the little scoundrel, Major! He'd sell out his own mother if he could find a profit in it!" Odo said.
"I just don't believe that anyone would be able to deal with these ... Imperials," Kira said.Odo harrumphed and murmured something unintelligible about Quark's mother and copulation.
"Major, I saw him trading secrets to a man in clothes of a type I've never seen before! Let's think here, Kira -- do you think that Quark has any loyalty to this station?"Kira had opened her mouth to respond when her comm console chirped.
"Major, an incoming communication," the ensign at communications said.
"From where?"
"The Defiant," the ensign replied. "It's Captain Sisko."
"Patch it through," she ordered. Odo turned to leave, but Kira stopped him. "I want you to be here. I need your . . . advice," she said.
"Major," Sisko's basso profundo reverberated. "How are things back on the station?"
"Fine -- except for one thing. Constable Odo believes that Quark is selling Federation secrets to the Imperials."
"Ferengis! Can't trust them. Thanks for the update, Major. I'll be in contact. Sisko out." The captain closed the comm channel, and the desk screen fell silent. Kira ignored Odo's questioning look ("What the hell are you going to do now?") and turned to look out the viewports, at the Sentinels, the modified Galaxy-class battleships (Battleships? I thought the Federation had "heavy cruisers," she thought), the Defiants, and the D'deridex-class Romulan warbirds and the Klingon vessels.
"So what do you think we should do, Odo?" Kira asked after a time.
"I don't know," the changeling said.
"We have to find something soon -- or it'll be too late," said the Bajoran. "Odo, why don't you go follow Quark around when the Imperial spy comes next? It might turn up something useful."
"With pleasure," Odo replied, and the constable walked out of the office.
As usual, Quark was engaged in several shady transactions at the same time, but he still had to manage his legitimate businesses -- namely, Quark's bar and the Dabo tables. He was tending the bar, serving synthehol to Federation officers, mainly, when his most profitable sideline walked up.
"I'll have one of those," said Boba Fett, pointing at a bottle of Centaurian bourbon. Quark automatically reached for the decanter, but stopped himself.
"Perhaps we should talk -- somewhere else," the Ferengi said, summoning an assistant to take over the bar. The bounty hunter and the wheeler-dealer, carrying the Centaurian bourbon, retreated to Quark's personal office, which Quark had scanned daily for bugs. Although if Odo really wanted to get in, there was no way to stop him, still Quark didn't want to take any chances of the constable happening to sneak a recording device into the office. That would be . . . most unprofitable.
"Is the constable here?" asked Boba Fett as Quark poured the beverage, which Fett drank slowly through a sort of straw that appeared to sneak up through his suit into his mouth..
"No," Quark answered. "He and Doctor Bashir are on planet right now, bargaining for medical supplies of some sort. Odo is providing security for the good doctor." Or, at least, so Quark had heard. He hadn't seen Odo recently, which made him nervous, but Doctor Bashir had gone to the planet, so he didn't have a real reason to be suspicious.
"Excellent," the masked man said. "My Imp -- employers have been asking for the technical readouts on those Tholian ships that you promised. They're growing quite ... anxious."
Quark cringed nervously. "Technical readouts from Tholian space are difficult to obtain," he said. "I require . . . 1000 bars of gold-pressed latinum to provide your employers with them."
Even though Fett's eyes weren't visible through his helmet, Quark could still feel them narrow. "Interesting theory," he said calmly -- and just as calmly flipped out a blaster and destroyed the port half of Quark's ornate desk.
"Or perhaps I have them with me right now at the price we agreed upon earlier," said Quark, handing over a small disk to the bounty hunter.
"Excellent," Fett said. "The latinum is in my ship. It shall be left under your bar after closing tonight. Do not attempt to contact me; I will contact you. Your next assignment shall be quite dangerous ... and quite profitable." The bounty hunter finished his drink, stood, and walked out of the office.
"Damn," said Quark. The desk had been a gift from the Grand Nagus, and Quark had been planning to sell it upon the Nagus' death for ... well, more money than a mere smuggler could imagine. And they could imagine quite a bit. He was too concerned with retrieving what few things were left intact from the desk that he didn't notice the bottle of bourbon contract, expand, and enlarge into a familiar shape.
"We need to talk," said the Centaurian bourbon decanter-turned-Odo.
"No reward is worth this," said Quark.
Al Giran stood in the entry way watching the alien looking vessel descend upon the Romulan Landing Pad. For some reason the rest of the procouncil thought it was appropriate that he be the one to welcome their guests. The ship which he had been told was Lambda something or other was coming to rest. Lamda... letter from some ancient human alphabet. hmm... Giran had to agree with the procouncil this new empire was some sort of human off shoot. Much as the Romulans and Vulcans were once one people. One group was most likely cast out of the others unvierse for some reasaon or other. Or maybe they chose to leave. Well at any rate this was something for the humas to deal with, not the Romulans.
The walkway finished descending and out stepped a cluster of six individuals. At there center, obviously in control was a man with a blue high light to his skin. He had a very commanding air to him. Almost regal. He was most impressive. Not human though. Almost Romulan in the way he walked. Behind him stood a human - an assistant or associate. Small, obviously not as comfortable or at ease as this man. The other four figures were shorter, almost reptillian individuals. Each had a weapon drawn and was keeping a very watchful eye on all that was around them. Interesting choice of gaurds the procouncillor thought. Maybe this isn't such a human affair after all...