The Long Night Page 3

  "Come on, Benjamin," Dax whispered.

  As she spoke, Commander Benjamin Sisko strode into Quark's. His chin was up, his broad shoulders back, and his uniform was smartly pressed. His hands were loose at his sides, and his eyes had a ferocious look, even from Dax's distant perspective. He was prepared for battle.

  She climbed down the stairs, keeping her gaze on Sisko. His attitude surprised her. She expected him to slip into Quark's as he usually did, manipulate things slowly, and then get what he wanted. But he was going full bore, like the commander a rumor said he would become.

  Odo was the one who slipped around to the side. His ability to blend in, even when he hadn't shapeshifted, amazed Dax. He should have been so noticeable with his not-quite-distinct features, his brown uniform, his always somber expression. And yet those things somehow made him fade into the background more than most would.

  Sisko sought her out. She nodded her head toward the bar. He turned in that direction, and she pushed through the crowd, hurrying to Sisko's side. She arrived at the same moment Sisko did. He stopped behind the Caxtonian, and Odo stopped alongside. Dax made her way around the bar. Caxtonians were known for having a temper when cornered, and it made no sense to take any chances. She'd be in position if he came this way.

  "Gentlemen," Sisko said, his mellifluous voice rising and falling within that one word. Benjamin could have been a better con artist than either man who actually worked the trade, with that mobile face and that expressive voice. He leaned around the Caxtonian and picked up the statue with reverence. "I understand you're trying to sell this beautiful item."

  His fingers rested lightly on the statue, as if he were afraid of shattering it by holding it too hard. Dax held her breath. She, who had held a thousand treasures in half a dozen lifetimes, found Sisko's delicate grip terrifying. She almost felt that if he dropped the statue, the fate of eighty worlds would change.

  Quark reached for the statue, then brought his hands back. Dax moved closer to him, wincing at the Caxtonian's stench. Quark had a stronger stomach than she did, to be able to put up with that smell as long as he had.

  "Well, Quark?" Odo asked in his most threatening rasp.

  Quark swallowed hard, glancing first at Dax and then at Odo. "We were just talking."

  The Caxtonian turned his solid smelly body away from the bar and faced Sisko. "That statue belongs to me." His voice was loud enough to carry. Conversations nearby stopped.

  Quark's eyes widened with panic. He waved his hands. "It's under control. Go back to your games."

  But no one went back. They were all staring at the commander and the Caxtonian, waiting for violence to erupt.

  "Do something," Dax whispered to Quark.

  "I can't. Caxtonians hate being crossed."

  "About the audience."

  Quark shrugged and wrung his hands together. He hadn't taken his gaze off the statue. Neither had the Caxtonian. Or Sisko.

  If anyone else identified it, they would have a riot on their hands. So Dax decided to create one of her own.

  "Drinks on the house!" she shouted. "Rom will take orders."

  A huge cheer went up and extended to the farthest reaches of the bar. Immediately Rom, who had paused to watch O'Brien's shot in the dart game, was mobbed.

  "You can't do that," Quark said. "I can't afford it."

  "You can't afford it if they start breaking chairs to get to that statue." Dax kept her voice as low as possible and still be heard above the din.

  "Good point," Quark said. But he frowned as the crowd pushed against Rom, five deep.

  "You're holding my statue," the Caxtonian said again.

  Sisko nodded, a small smile playing across his features. A dangerous smile. One that did not meet his eyes. Dax put a hand on her phaser.

  "Your statue?" Sisko said. "Do you have a bill of sale?"

  "It was in my family for generations."

  "Really?" Sisko's voice was as smooth as honey. "And you've decided to sell the heirloom in Quark's?"

  "I can sell wherever I want," the Caxtonian said.

  "Of course you can," Sisko said.

  The Caxtonian peered at Sisko, obviously mollified by Sisko's reasonable tone. "Are you interested?"

  "Very," Sisko said. "I've never seen anything like this."

  The crowd around Rom had grown eight deep. Rom was shouting drink orders from the center. Quark was ignoring them. The crowd was interrupting the dart game. Dax's good idea might actually start a riot if things didn't change quickly.

  "It is a beauty," the Caxtonian said.

  "Do you have more like it on your ship?"

  The Caxtonian shook his head. "It's a one-of-a-kind."

  Sisko smiled. "Then I'm sure it will show up on your cargo report, the one you gave to our security people before you docked."

  "Give me that," the Caxtonian growled and reached for the statue. Sisko moved it away, and then Dax realized that his grip wasn't as delicate as it had seemed.

  "I think I'll hold onto it for a while," Sisko said.

  "It's mine," the Caxtonian said, and moved closer to Sisko.

  "That seems to be a matter for debate," Odo said. He took the Caxtonian by the arm. "Both sides can present their arguments in my office."

  "I haven't done anything wrong," the Caxtonian said loudly, trying to pull away from Odo's firm grasp.

  "Oh, I think you have," Sisko said.

  "The statue's on my cargo report!" The Caxtonian was shouting now, but no one seemed to notice. The group around Rom had started shoving.

  "I don't care what's on your report," Sisko said. "You've violated Federation law. This item is obviously contraband. I'd say you may be in our custody for some time unless you decide to talk to us."

  "I have nothing to say." The Caxtonian wrenched his arm but couldn't get free. He shoved Odo, and Odo shoved him back.

  "I think you'll want to talk with us," Sisko said. "I'm sure it would be in your best interest to tell us how that heirloom managed to come into your possession."

  The Caxtonian started shouting, but Sisko grabbed him by the collar.

  "You'll cooperate," Sisko said. "You'll do everything I tell you or I will trace each and every item in your cargo hold back to its original owners. The Federation deals with the sale of contraband by imprisoning offenders. The Klingons punish such behavior with death. But the Cardassians have reserved a slow form of torture for such offenses, and we all know that the Cardassians have made torture into an art form."

  The Caxtonian's jaw worked. He glanced at the surging crowd, then at Quark. "I don't want to talk here."

  "I didn't think you did," Sisko said. "The constable will take you to his office. Dax and I will join you shortly." He nodded at Odo. "Constable."

  Odo led the Caxtonian out of Quark's, keeping a firm grip on the trader the entire time. As they went out the door, the Caxtonian glanced over his shoulder at the statue, a look of longing on his filthy face.

  Sisko ran his other hand over the statue. Dax knew that Sisko was also an expert on the Nibix and its contents. After a lecture at the Academy on the Nibix, the lost ship had become one of his hobbies. He and Curzon used to discuss it at length.

  Sisko's fingers trembled slightly when he found the tiny oval at the base of the skirt. He swallowed, then glanced at Dax. She nodded. Once. Quark didn't see it. He was watching the growing riot.

  "I think we'll have to search his ship," Sisko said to Dax. "Let's impound it until we get him to talk with us."

  "He'll talk," Dax said.

  "I don't think you should assume that just because a Caxtonian trader automatically has contraband," Quark said. "You're discriminating against my patrons. And," he added, waving at the shoving match going on near the dart game, "disturbing the peace in my bar. I should—"

  "Do you want me to arrest you as well?"

  Quark looked shocked. "I was only talking to him."

  "No, you were negotiating for this." Sisko's soft voice had a firmness. He clut
ched the statue to his chest. "If one word of this interchange gets past your lips, I will personally close this bar down and have you imprisoned for trying to sell contraband items. Am I making myself clear?"

  Dax was shocked at the threat from Benjamin. Threatening anyone was not usually his style. But in this case she agreed completely. If word that the Nibix had been found leaked out, this station would be overrun.

  Quark took a deep gulping breath, staring at Sisko almost in shock.

  Sisko did nothing but stare back. Dax could tell he was very, very serious.

  Finally, with a quick glance at Dax, Quark nodded. "Not one word. Not one. But if you find the ship, I want to see it."

  "No deals," Sisko said.

  "But—"

  "No deals." He held the statue carefully and threaded his way through to the door.

  Rom broke free of the crowd and was running toward the bar. Quark glanced at the growing mob, then at Dax. "I—"

  "You have customers," she said.

  "I want to see that ship," Quark said.

  She sighed. "If you say nothing, I will see what I can do."

  Rom skidded into the bar and began reciting drink orders like a Bajoran ceremonial rite. Quark grabbed glasses. Dax put her hand on his arm. "One thing, Quark. I've known Benjamin a long time. He never makes idle threats. I would believe him when he says he'll arrest you."

  Quark shuddered. "Oh, I do, Lieutenant. Believe me. I do."

  CHAPTER

  3

  THE DIN FROM QUARK'S was deafening. Jake heard the shouting before he entered the Promenade. At first the yells were a jumbled mess. Then he could pick out phrases in the half-dozen languages he sort of understood: "Where's my drink?" "You promised a free drink." "I'm thirsty. Give me my drink."

  Fights had spilled out into the corridor. Rom sat on the stairs in the Promenade, his shirt torn and a scratch running down the side of his face. Two Caxtonians shoved each other to get into Quark's. A Klingon was shouting orders and being ignored. Three Vulcans were leaving, speaking calmly about the ill-mannered clientele, their voices at odds with their ripped and stained clothing.

  "What happened?" Jake asked Rom.

  Rom put a finger to his lips. "I barely escaped with my life."

  Over the roar of the crowd came Quark's voice. "Sit down! Sit down! If you don't sit down, you don't get anything!" A crash followed his words. "And if you break chairs, you have to pay for them! Now sit down!"

  Rom gazed at the bar, twisting his hands together. "He'll know I'm gone. If he catches me out here, he'll make me pay for all the drinks."

  "Then we'll have to get you back inside." Jake helped Rom up. Rom was limping and missing one shoe. The back of his pants were shredded from the waist as if someone tried to grab the nonexistent belt and pull Rom. "What happened in there?"

  "It was a nightmare. A nightmare. And Quark will think it was all my fault. But I couldn't take those orders. I couldn't—and then all those bodies pressing down on me …" Rom shook his head as if to clear it. The Caxtonians' fight had moved farther away from the bar. Two Bajorans tumbled out the door and then shoved their way back in, but the sound was dying down. Inside, patrons were scrambling for seats. In a moment, Quark would see Rom reenter.

  "Hurry," Jake said. "Stay behind me."

  He grabbed Rom's arm and pulled him toward the bar. When they got to the door, the line in front of the bar was still three patrons deep.

  "I've got your Enutian pint," Quark snarled at a customer. "And yours." He was moving quickly behind the bar, handing out drinks without even tallying the totals. "Where's Odo when you need him? He's always here when I don't need him, but he's never here when I do." He turned his back and continued muttering. The patrons around him were waving their hands and calling orders.

  Jake shoved Rom inside. Rom scuttled against the windows. Jake pointed at the bar. Rom winced, then made his way around the group. People at tables clutched for Rom and began shouting orders at him.

  "… an absolute madhouse."

  Jake recognized Chief O'Brien's voice above the roar. O'Brien and Dr. Bashir were pushing their way through the crowd. Bashir said something to O'Brien, and O'Brien shook his head.

  "We'd be better off replicating something ourselves."

  Jake got out of the doorway and went into the corridor. The Caxtonians were still fighting, but they were near the door of Garak's boutique now. Jake couldn't hear the sounds of the fight over the cacophony in the bar. They appeared to be punching each other in utter silence.

  O'Brien came out of the bar, moved around two more Bajorans who were hurrying in, and wiped the sweat off his face. Dr. Bashir followed, his uniform scuffed. With one hand, he combed his hair into place. With the other, he brushed the dirt off his uniform.

  "Even without the riot, that was quite a match, Chief."

  "It would have been if you hadn't cheated."

  Bashir laughed. "I didn't cheat. It would have been cheating if I had paid the winged Ardwanian to interrupt the game, but I didn't. She descended on her own."

  "Her timing was bloody convenient," O'Brien said.

  "I'll say." Bashir adjusted his cuffs. "If she hadn't arrived, I would have lost one bull's-eye sooner. You really shouldn't complain when you win, Chief."

  "I'm not complaining," O'Brien said. "I would just like a peaceful game of darts. Once is all I ask."

  "At Quark's? You'd have better luck wishing for all the wealth in the known galaxy."

  They had stopped a few feet away from Jake. Their conversation was nearly over. And even though Jake was leery about Chief O'Brien's sour mood, Dr. Bashir seemed to be leavening it.

  "Excuse me, Chief?" Jake approached them. Dr. Bashir smiled at him. Jake nodded back.

  Bashir clapped O'Brien on the shoulder. "Can I interest you in a rematch when the crowd is gone?"

  O'Brien nodded, his attention now on Jake.

  "Good. I'm off to see if I can salvage my paper on Trill immune systems. Make sure he gets something to drink, would you, Jake?" And without waiting for an answer, Dr. Bashir headed down the hall toward the infirmary.

  "I suppose I should find the nearest replicator," O'Brien said. "I certainly don't want to go back into that fracas. Come with me, Jake, and you can tell me what you need."

  The chief was getting to know him well. Jake's dad always asked questions about the questions: What do you need that for? Is it really important? Can't it wait? But Chief O'Brien always made time for Jake and only answered the questions asked, although he sometimes added warnings to his answers. The warnings had always proven valuable.

  They headed toward the family quarters. The Cardassians had designed the station wisely, placing no replicators near the restaurants and bars, except those in the replimat. Judging by the crowd in Quark's, the place must have been hot. The chief was clearly thirsty. His pace was about as rapid as a man's got.

  Jake had to match the chief's stride to keep up with him. He didn't mind the scramble; it gave him a moment to consider how to ask his question. He wanted to do so in a way that allowed him the greatest opportunity to work on his own.

  "Chief, are all the station's areas mapped on the computer schematic?"

  The chief shot him a look that said, You came all the way for this? but he didn't speak the thought to Jake's great relief. "If they were, I wouldn't have as much trouble as I do with all the systems. Those Cardassian devils had more secrets in this place than Quark does. And that doesn't count all the areas they neglected to map."

  Jake nodded, uncertain whether to leave his questioning at that or to continue.

  The chief took the dilemma from him. "If you tell me what you found, I'll be able to say whether it's on my revised schematic."

  No harm in telling him, Jake supposed. He'd learned a long time ago that being honest was a lot better than trying to keep things secret. "I found a panel near the far end of the Promenade, where all the closed shops are. It rang hollow, but nothing shows up on the schematic."


  "I haven't mapped that area. To be honest, I've been putting it off." The chief stopped outside the door to his quarters. "If you look at the schematic closely, you'll see that the spaces and corridors don't entirely add up."

  "What do you mean?" Jake asked.

  "Meaning I'd invite an entire week's worth of extra work by officially discovering the true layout of that sector. I've been waiting for something to go wrong in that area. Then at least the work would be justified."

  Jake bit his lower lip. "Would you mind if I take that panel off to see what's back there?"

  "I don't think you're wanting to do this to exercise your mapping skills. Are you planning some treasure hunting?" O'Brien did not smile. If he had, he would have been patronizing Jake, and that had no part in their relationship. But O'Brien actually meant the question, so Jake decided to give it a serious answer.

  A flush warmed Jake's cheeks. He was glad for the darkness in the corridor. "I thought, since the panel was so close to those shops, and Quark once said those shops were a hotbed for smuggling on Deep Space Nine, back when the Cardassians were here—"

  "That you'd see if they left a few goodies behind."

  Jake nodded.

  "Well, you can take the panel off if you measure the space behind it and record it for me. You'll need Nog's help on this one. The Cardassians often had some unpleasant warnings built into their storage areas. I've encountered more than a few electric charges built into the bolts themselves that weren't serious enough to injure me but that left my hands sore for days."

  Jake grinned. "Thanks, Chief."

  O'Brien opened the door to his quarters. "Just be careful," he said. "If you find any old Cardassian equipment, come and get me before you touch it. Okay?"

  "Okay, Chief." Jake could barely repress his excitement. He turned and walked down the corridor until he heard the hiss of O'Brien's door closing. Then Jake jumped, tagged the ceiling, and ran for Quark's. He had to find Nog. They had some work to do.

  * * *

  Commander Sisko arrived in Odo's office in time to see, through the monitors, Odo checking the force field around the Caxtonian's cell. So the man hadn't cooperated quite as much as Sisko had hoped.