Star Trek Deep Space 9 07 Warchild

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CHAPTER 1

"SOMEONE TO SEE YOU, COMMANDER."

Benjamin Sisko looked up from his desk sharply and tried to put on the face of a man who has just been

distracted from important business. His heart wasn't in it. He knew he'd been daydreaming—something

he seldom had the leisure or the inclination to do since taking command ofDeep Space Nine . Something

he had only recently found pleasure in doing, too. A mind that wandered could sometimes wander back

into the past.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked, a trifle sharply.

Major Kira Nerys met his eyes with her own level gaze. "Are we interrupting something important, sir?"

she asked. Her dry, slightly amused tone let Sisko know straight off that she knew he was temporarily

unoccupied, but she'd be willing to go along with the act if he felt like pretending he'd been busy.

"Not at all, Major," Sisko said, dropping all pretense and giving, her one of his rare smiles. "Who wants

to see—?"

The words froze in his throat as the Bajoran monk came gliding into the commander's office.

Sisko felt his body tense. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how earnestly he told himself to relax,

the sight of a Bajoran monk always set his entire being on edge. He remembered—he could not help but

remember—his first encounter with one of that brotherhood when he and his son, Jake, were newly

come toDeep Space Nine . Then his thoughts had been set solely on how to get out of this unlooked-for

command, how to get himself and Jake back to Earth, even if it meant taking a post with less

responsibility, or leaving Starfleet altogether.

That first Bajoran monk had looked him in the eye in much the same way this one was doing now, but to

Jake Sisko it had felt as if the man were looking into his soul. That monk spoke words Sisko had not

understood—theProphets? What Prophets? —not then. Sisko brushed the words aside. He had lost

track of all the exotic religions he'd encountered since joining Starfleet. He did his best to offer them all a

measure of respect, if not belief. He had never expected one of them to reach out and touch him to the

heart the way the faith of Bajor had done.

It had touched him deeply, helped him come to terms with his past, the death of his wife, his role as

commander onDeep Space Nine . It was a strong source of power—strange power, unknown

power—the mystic faith that permeated every aspect of Bajoran life. And like many things strong and

strange and not fully known, it put Sisko on guard.

"What can we do for you?" he asked the monk, trying to sound cordial if he couldn't bring himself to

sound friendly. "No trouble in the temple, I hope? The one aboard, I mean." He realized that to a

Bajoran, there could be only one Temple—that vast and eerily beautiful complex of domed buildings and

lush gardens that the departing Cardassians had vandalized but could not utterly destroy. When Sisko

spoke of the temple, he first thought of the small Bajoran shrine aboard the space station.

The monk's gaze did not waver. He stood before Commander Sisko with his hands tucked into the

voluminous sleeves of his rust-colored robes. A skin-tight cap covered his head, leaving only his

weather-beaten face and ears exposed. His beard was short, black sprinkled with gray. Sisko realized

that this monk was no ancient sage, but a fairly young man. The few wrinkles he did have were lines of

toil, not of age.

"Commander Sisko," he said. The strength behind the voice convinced Sisko he was right in his

assessment of the monk's years. "I am Taren Gis, a monk in service to the Prophets. I have come to you

to ask for aid."

Sisko became aware that he was clutching the arms of his chair too hard. He made himself relax his grip.

"Go on. What sort of aid?"

"It's the camps," Major Kira blurted. Sisko was startled. It wasn't a rare thing for Kira Nerys to forget

herself, to barge in with demands and opinions, asked for or not. But usually those were angry outbursts,

brief flashes of a temper sharpened and made bitter by growing up under the brutalities of the Cardassian

occupation, honed by her years as a Bajoran freedom fighter.

"Camps?" Sisko echoed.

"The refugee camps, Commander." There was no anger in the Bajoran woman's voice; only pain. "We

don't have an exact tally of how many of them there are, but I'm surprised Starfleet never mentioned them

to you at all. I suppose they didn't think it was important enough to bring to your attention." Now a sliver

of the old bitterness slipped back into her words.

"Starfleet is aware that there are refugee camps on Bajor" Sisko countered.One line buried somewhere

in my briefing material , he thought ruefully.If that . "We're working with the provisional government to

speed up resettlement procedures. Most of the camps have already been emptied and—"

"Laborcamps," Major Kira snapped. "The Cardassians did their best to empty those before they left.

They used their own methods of resettlement. Her tone left no question that the Cardassian idea of

resettlement was permanent. "The refugee camps are another story."

Sisko turned to the monk. "Brother Gis, how many camps are there?"

The monk made a sign with his hands indicating that he did not know. "Commander, what are numbers?

Your people and mine speak of the Cardassian occupation as lasting sixty years. You count these years

in days, I count them in lives. You believe it is over, simply because the Cardassians are no longer here,

but I see it otherwise. I see it as too many deaths that did not have to be, too much land laid waste, too

many lives that have become horribly transformed. I have charge of a single camp; it is all I know. It is

located in the Kaladrys Valley. Once this was the choicest, most fertile farmland on all Bajor. The

Cardassians knew that as well as my people."

"The Cardassian installations in the valley set up a system of forced agricultural production," Kira said.

"No mercy for the farmer who didn't meet his predetermined quotas. The quotas were unrealistic, but the

Cardassians didn't care. They'd take what they could get, and if they happened to find an excuse to kill

more of our people in the process—" She shrugged, though it was more like a shudder. "Those who

could escape, did. But they're mostly families in the Kaladrys Valley. You can't run so fast with children."

She spat out the words: "They were easy to catch."

"I only ask your help for one camp," the monk continued. "The one where I and two of my brethren

serve. It is near the old farming village of Lacroya. We are luckier than most; the destruction of Lacroya

was fairly recent and incomplete. We have been able to glean much useful material from the ruins. Many

of the people originally with us were farmers, and could coax crops from rock—or so they liked to say.

They rallied the children to help them plow a few fields and to plant seedlings. Our relief supplies from the

provisional government have been as much as charity could make them, but to give charity to others, you

must first have enough to provide for your own family. There are very few Bajorans who can say that

these days. So our farmers decided to take back the land and feed themselves."

"That's commendable," Sisko remarked. "And I assure you, if there is anything we can do to help them

regain their independence—"

A wistful smile touched the monk's face. "They are dead now."

"Dead?" Sisko's hands clutched the armrests of his chair again. "What happened?"

The monk held out his hands, palms upward. "We called it camp fever, for want of another name. One

of my brethren is a healer of great skill. In the Temple, he studied the ancient records of sickness and

health. He thought it was an affliction very likesatai , the swelling fever. He applied all the known

remedies forsatai to the victims." He lowered his hands. "They died anyway."

"Did you contact the government for aid?"

Major Kira snorted. "Why bother? The government will give nothing because the government has

nothing to give. Besides, they have their own problems, trying to keep all the factions and splinter groups

together long enough to make consensus decisions. Between that and a half dozen 'leaders' only on the

lookout for the opportunity to promote themselves, there's no hope of real help. In their eyes, their own

political survival is more important than the lives of a few refugees."

"It is sad," the monk said quietly. "The people of the valley have suffered so much, so long, under so

many different hands. The Cardassians' brutal rule was only one burden laid across their shoulders. Then

the Bajoran resistance sought to strike at the Cardassians by destroying their immediate food supplies.

They burned crops, destroyed farming implements, and in the end did no great good to the cause."

Kira bridled. "The resistance knew what it was doing! We struck at the Cardassians' resources—"

The monk shrugged. "Cardassian technology was easily able to replenish all foodstuffs the resistance

destroyed. Where they did not have replicators, they simply got shipments from more cooperative

districts. The only ones who starved were the Bajorans. And as if that were not punishment enough, the

Cardassian overlords held the farmers themselves responsible for any damage done by the resistance.

There were more executions, more deportations to the labor camps. Many farmers tried to run away, but

again their families held them back. The few who stayed were told in no uncertain terms that they were to

meet the old quotas. No matter that those quotas were set when there were more hands and more

working machinery to help meet them."

"There's no need to tell the commander all that," Kira said sharply. "Just tell him what you told me."

Sisko cupped his chin in one hand. He had seen enough of battles and their aftermath to know that there

were never any winners in a war—just some victims who lost less than others. He was certain Major

Kira knew that too, but to say it aloud would be the same as admitting that the resistance had done

almost as much harm to Bajor as the Cardassians. He chose to say nothing and hear out the monk's

words.

"We do not know where else to turn," Brother Gis went on, addressing the commander. "The

government indeed has nothing for us—neither technology nor supplies nor human aid."

"I'm surprised," Sisko said. "You'd think that the provisional government would see the wisdom in

investing a major effort in the recovery of agricultural lands and the people to cultivate them. Even

politicians need to eat."

"You are right," Brother Gis responded. "But foresight is a gift which the Prophets, in their wisdom, have

not chosen to bestow on many. There is enough land back under cultivation for our leaders to feel that

they have seen to Bajor's immediate needs. Besides, they do not see the point in wasting relief efforts on

refugee camps that will not be able to repay them with effective manpower for at least ten years."

"What?" Sisko was taken aback.

"The fever has already destroyed most of the adults in our care, Commander." The monk bowed his

head. "Before the sickness, our camp sheltered families. Now it is almost entirely a refuge for orphans."

"Children are out in the fields, working like adults," Major Kira said. "They can barely raise enough food

to feed themselves, let alone the sick ones."

"Sickness feasts best at the table of famine," Brother Gis said. "Word has reached us that there are

similar outbreaks of this illness in other camps, both in and beyond the valley. The sickness is spreading,

feeding on the weak. That is why I am here. This station always brought death to Bajor. Now let it open

its other hand and bring the gift of life."

"What, exactly, do you need?" Sisko asked.

The monk reached into his sleeve and brought out a carefully folded piece of paper. "In consultation with

my brethren, we have made this list." He handed it over. "We have concluded—with regret, but quite

realistically—that if we are unable to fulfill these needs, the fatalities will mount at such a rate that—"

"That we needn't bother sending any help at all," Major Kira concluded grimly.

Sisko studied the list, feeling his heart drop a little lower with every item. Some of the things the monk

requested were simple enough to provide, but not in such quantities—! He would have to contact

Starfleet, and while he waited for the shipments, more people would die. As for the rest of the monk's

requests—medical personnel, for example—they were impossible. You couldn't give what you didn't

have.

Sisko sat back and took a deep breath. He had always known that it wasn't easy to hold a position of

command in Starfleet, but he used to think it got easier with time. He knew the answer he had to give this

monk, as little as he liked it.

"Brother Gis," he began, "I'm sorry—" He saw Major Kira stiffen where she stood. "We'll do what we

can to help you, but it will take time to obtain all the items you've asked for."

"There is little time," the monk replied.

"I'll dispatch a call to Starfleet immediately, requesting additional medical supplies from any ships in the

vicinity, on either side of the wormhole. In the meantime we will give you all that this station can spare,

but—"

Brother Gis made a small but commanding gesture that momentarily silenced Sisko. "The supplies are

not vital. We will gratefully accept whatever you can offer us. As for the rest, we will go on as we have in

the past, making do. But what we truly need, most desperately—what we can no longer do without are

healers. What good if you give us all this"—he indicated the list in Sisko's hand—"and we lack the help to

use it?"

"I see your point. Sisko pressed his fingers to his lips in thought. "Dr. Julian Bashir is our station's chief

medical officer. He's acquired a number of assistants since his arrival. I'll consult with him, see if he can

recommend one or two of them to help you."

"With respect, Commander, we do not need these"—the monk held out his hands—"so much as we

need these." He touched his head, then his heart.

Sisko tried to give the monk a reassuring smile. "Dr. Bashir's people are well trained. They can monitor

life-sign readouts and maintain any prescribed treatments very efficiently."

"But can they determine which treatments need to be prescribed?" Before Sisko could answer, Brother

Gis went on: "I have already told you that we have no name for the sickness that is devastating our

people. We need a healer, one who can give it a name. To name your enemy is the first step toward

defeating him. Can your Dr. Bashir's assistants do that?"

"They're not diagnosticians," Sisko admitted reluctantly.

"In the desert, if water leaks from a vessel through invisible cracks, you do not need someone to mop up

the water that has already spilled so much as you need one with the skill and wisdom to find the cracks

themselves and make the vessel whole. We need this Dr. Bashir, not his assistants."

Sisko had learned it was best to make the hardest pronouncements quickly and clearly. "He can't go. I

can't spare him, Brother Gis. That would leave DS9 without a—a healer, and that is something I can't

risk."

"The Prophets will not leave you unprotected if you permit yourself to share your healer's skills with us,"

the monk said.

"The Prophets are … generous as always, but we're talking about the overall security ofDeep Space

Nine . I'd need a better reassurance than their promised protection before I could let Dr. Bashir go. He's

needed here."

"The need for him is greater on Bajor," Brother Gis calmly maintained.

Sisko set his jaw. "I'm sorry. But as for the rest—" He laid his hand on the monk's list.

The Bajoran monk folded his hands and bowed slightly to the commander. "May the Prophets show you

a better path," he said, and departed.

No sooner was Brother Gis gone than Kira whirled on Sisko and blurted, "Why couldn't we spare Dr.

Bashir?"

Sisko's lips tightened. "I think I gave my reasons. Obviously you don't think they were good enough."

"No, I don't," Kira said, expressing herself in the same blunt, direct way that worked against her more

often than not. "There's a medicalcrisis on Bajor! There's nothing remotely resembling a crisis here. Why

couldn't he—?"

"There is no crisis hereat the moment. Commander Sisko stressed his words carefully. "You've served

aboard DS9 long enough to know how quickly that can change."

"Commander, there arechildren dying!" Major Kira persisted desperately.

"Do you think I didn't hear a word Brother Gis said?" Sisko snapped. Then, in a calmer voice: "We'll do

all we can for the children on Bajor, but not at the risk of the children here."

"Of course not," Kira muttered to herself. "They're not Bajorans."

Her words were not soft enough for Sisko to miss. May I remind you, Major Kira, that the majority of

the children aboardDeep Space Nine are Bajoran?" He turned his chair away from her. "I'll tell you one

of the most important lessons of command: Sometimes the right decision isn't the easy one."

"Sometimes the hard decision isn't the right one," she countered.

He spun his chair around sharply to face her. "Maybe so, but it ismy decision to make. Now, let's get to

work doing what we can for Brother Gis and his people. Dismissed."

Kira looked ready to say something more, but apparently thought better of it. Her mouth opened, then

shut and tightened. She acknowledged her commanding officer's order with a crisp nod and marched out

of his office. The air felt several degrees chillier after she left.

Sisko folded his hands over the list Brother Gis had left behind. He knew he had made the only possible

decision as far as the question of Dr. Bashir went.Deep Space Nine was calm now, but for how long?

Could he predict accidents at the docking bays, incoming starships with medical emergencies aboard,

unforeseen major injuries to any one of Mr. O'Brien's people brought about by working with dicey

Cardassian equipment?

"I'm not one of the Prophets," he murmured. But he was the commander, and it was his responsibility to

look after the people under his command as he deemed best. That did not include depriving them of their

chief medical officer's knowledge and skill for an unspecified period of time.

He began to work on Brother Gis's list. If he worked hard enough, he hoped he would not think so

much about the children.

CHAPTER 10

LIEUTENANT DAX was the last to enter Commander Sisko's office, under the eyes of Kira, Odo,

and O'Brien. "Sorry I'm late, sir. I've just come from the infirmary."

"How is the girl?" Sisko asked.

"A little cough and a few sniffles. She's more upset than ill."

"Can you blame her, after what she's been through, poor thing?" O'Brien commented.

"There is one problem," Dax went on.

"Yes?" Sisko did not look as if he was in the mood for any more problems.

"Her brother, Cedra; he won't leave."

"I'll see what I can do about that after this meeting," the commander said. He clasped his hands on the

desktop. "I've called you here to brief you on a situation of some delicacy. You're all no doubt aware that

Major Kira returned to us accompanied by two Bajoran children. Although I initially promised Vedek

Torin complete secrecy, circumstances have changed. You need to know who these children are and

what they mean to the stability of Bajor if we are to accomplish our mission effectively."

"And what is our mission?" Odo asked stiffly.

"To protect them and to see that they are delivered to the Temple on Bajor as soon as possible."

"With respect, sir," the shapeshifter said, "if that is all we must do, why don't we simply put them back

aboard the runabout and send them on their way?"

"Two reasons: First, the girl is sick. I realize it's only a mild cold, but in view of what's awaiting her, I'd

feel better myself if the child were in top health before she begins her new life. Second, there has already

been one attempted kidnapping. As long as she's under our protection, the chances for another are slim."

His tone as good as added:They had better be impossible .

"Kidnapping!" O'Brien exclaimed. "Who is this child?"

"She's theNekor , according to theDessin-ka ," Major Kira provided, and went on to explain the whole

matter of the Kai Opaka's last message and all it meant. "And they're expecting to see her presented in

the Temple at theBerajin harvest festival," she concluded.

"Berajin .. ." O'Brien scratched his head.

"It's still a week and a half away," Dax said. "Before, when I was searching for her, I thought that was

hardly enough time. Now it seems like far too much."

"Don't worry, Lieutenant," Odo said. "I'll oversee the child's security personally. I'll be sure to put my

best people on the case at times when I am … indisposed." It was a nice way of saying that the

shapeshifter had to spend part of each day in his naturally formless state.Indisposed sounded better than

in a bucket .

"I have no doubt that Talis Dejana is in good hands with you, Constable," Sisko said. "However, while

we are making sure that the security surrounding her is airtight, we must not lose sight of the fact that she

is only eight years old. She's spent all her life on rural Bajor, and most of that in a refugee camp. She may

be terrified by her new surroundings."

"Sir?" O'Brien spoke up.

"Yes, Chief?"

"Maybe Keiko could come by the infirmary and visit with her, bring Molly, you know, something like

that. And after she's over her sniffles, she could come to the school and see the other kids."

Sisko turned to Odo. "Would that be a security risk, Constable?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," the shapeshifter replied. "I believe your young ones are happiest in the

company of their agemates. A happy child is more accommodating, and I can do my job best when the

person I'm supposed to protect cooperates."

"For a moment there I was afraid Odo'd got a soft side," O'Brien whispered to Kira.

"Sir, after she's feeling better, where is she to stay?" Dax asked. "She can't live in the infirmary. As you

said, she's only a child. She needs to know where she belongs."

"She could bunk with me, sir," Major Kira volunteered.

"She might feel more at home if she came to live with my family," O'Brien said. "Keiko wouldn't mind."

Sisko looked at Odo again, but before he could speak, the security chief said, "Yes, I can handle that

situation, too, sir" He glanced at O'Brien and added, "Provided that your wife won't object to armed

guards in the home."

"Init?" O'Brien objected.

"Cheek by jowl, if you prefer. I should think you'd welcome the protection. In view of what Major Kira

has told us, this child is the target of every Bajoran with an ideological ax to grind. By taking her into your

home, you'll be placing your family between those people and what they're after. It has been my

experience that such persons are none too picky about how they deal with obstacles."

O'Brien was crestfallen. "Then I can't do it. I can't put Keiko and Molly in jeopardy. I'm sorry; I did

want to help the child. . . ."

"We can settle the matter of where Talis Dejana will stay later," Sisko said. "Twenty-four hours in the

infirmary won't do her any harm, particularly if your wife and daughter can pay her that visit, Chief."

"Gladly, sir." O'Brien nodded happily, "At least there's something we can do for her."

"As for her brother," Sisko went on, "he can stay in my quarters until we reach a decision about his

sister. Jake won't mind sharing, I'm sure. That's settled, then. Now, about Dr. Bashir …" He was still

looking at O'Brien, but his expression grew grave.

"Still no luck with the long-range sensors, sir." O'Brien spoke as if this state of affairs was a direct attack

on his honor. To him, it was. "Near as we can guess, the problem's due to a badly done patch job in the

station circuits, something slapped together by the Cardies when they were evacuating and left behind as

good enough. Which it wasnot ." O'Brien's gut feeling was that the shoddy patch job had been

deliberate, but he decided to keep his suspicions to himself until he could prove them. "The linkage

feedback's caused the same situation with the runabout sensors, although on a minor scale."

"Can we use the runabout sensors to locate Dr. Bashir?"

"I wouldn't bet his life on it. The station system's much more sophisticated—by comparison, that is,

although it's all a load of Cardie—"

"How long will it take you to run down the weak spot in the circuitry?" Sisko interrupted.

"I can't tell. It's not in the sensor circuits proper, according to diagnostics. We may need to run hands-on

testing over every inch of the systems."

"How long will that take?"

"Working on it when we can—"

"Working on it constantly, Chief," Sisko corrected him. "We cannot afford to be unable to locate our

medical officer. I know I told you to work on sensor repairs when you could; now I'm telling you to give

that job top priority. Put as many men on it as you can spare, but I want the long-range sensors

functioning and capable of pinpointing Dr. Bashir on the planet's surface."

"Yes, sir." Under his breath he muttered, "Itcan wait, itcan't wait … I wish some people would make up

their minds."

Sisko either did not hear or knew when to overlook his chief of operation's remarks. "Lieutenant Dax,

I'd like you to escort Talis Cedra to meet me at the Replimat. I think that will be a less threatening

environment where he and I can get acquainted. Jake is supposed to meet me there after class, too. The

boys should get to know each other if they'll be living together." He sat back. "That's all, everyone.

Dismissed. Oh, except for you, Major Kira."

As the others left the office, Sisko's chair swiveled to face his Bajoran liaison officer. "Major Kira, I

need your help in finding Dr. Bashir. I want you to contact the appropriate authorities on Bajor. I want a

full description of Dr. Bashir transmitted with instructions to detain him and notify us the moment he's

found."

"With all due respect, sir, you make him sound like a criminal," Kira returned. "Is it fair to treat him like a

fugitive from the law? In my opinion, he's to be commended. The Federation came to Bajor and talked

about making things better, but all I see you doing is playing political games with the provisional

government. Dr. Bashir is out there helpingpeople , not politicians. He's dealing with a problem hands-on,

and you want to call him off. I say you ought to follow his example, not stop him."

"Dr. Bashir is acting alone, with no more authority for his actions than a deliberate misinterpretation of

orders and a blind conviction that he's doing the right thing," Sisko answered.

"Do you think what he's doing isn't right?" she challenged him.

"If Dr. Bashir were only responsible for himself, I'd be his biggest admirer," Sisko confessed. "As this

station's medical officer, he also has a responsibility for the health and well-being of every person aboard

DS9. When he accepted that post, he gave up the luxury of following whatever dream—no matter how

noble—takes his fancy."

"What's wrong with independent action in a good cause?"

"Need I remind you, Major, that the reason your world is so politically fragmented is due to a host of

Bajorans, each convinced he alone is doing the 'right' thing for Bajor?"

Kira's mouth shut tight. For a time she and Sisko exchanged hard stares. At last she said, "Whatever you

think of his actions, Dr. Bashir's convinced they're right. When we do find him, will you be able to

persuade him to give up the choice he's made?"

"I hope so," Sisko replied. He pushed back in his chair. "He's too good a man to lose, even to a dream."

Jake Sisko and his best friend, Quark's nephew Nog, walked along the Promenade, heading for the

Replimat. "Why do we have to waste our time with this Bajoran?" Nog demanded, doing a little dance

around the commander's son as they passed the various brightly lit shops and kiosks. "I'm not like you,

hu-man! I don't have time to kill. My father expects me back at Quark's Place in an hour to help him

clean the holosuites. I don't want to spend it nursemaiding some little nobody."

"I told you before, Nog," Jake said with the air of one who has gone over the same ground too many

times already. "This is a favor for my dad. Cedra needs kids his own age. He's a refugee—"

"I know, I know! You'd be surprised how much I know. What, you think maybe I didn'thear you?" The

Ferengi's sarcastic grimace showed off a double row of small, sharp teeth. It was unthinkable for anything

to elude Nog's hearing; Ferengi males were almost literally all ears. ("The better to hear opportunity

knocking," as Nog's lobe-proud uncle Quark was fond of saying.) "Refugee,hunh! That means he's even

poorer than us." He fell into a sulk. Then a spark of hope touched his wrinkled face. "I don't suppose

your father gave him some pocket money to share? As part of thisfavor? "

"I don't know; maybe."

"I'll bet he did. And poor—what's his name?"

"Cedra."

"Right. Poor Cedra probably never saw so much money before in his life. He won't know what to do

with it. He'll be an easy mark for every sneak and swindler aboard DS9. Jake!" Nog planted himself right

in front of young Sisko and seized his shoulders. "Do you realize what this means? We have tohelp the

boy! Without our expert advice, he's in danger of squandering your father's generous gift. We wouldn't

want that to happen."

"We wouldn't?" Jake said, trying not to snicker. He knew his friend too well.

Nog assumed a look of dramatic shock that would have made his uncle proud. "I'm surprised at you! Of

course we wouldn't—wecouldn't allow Cedra to be taken advantage of. It would be a violation of

hospitality. We Ferengi have a universal reputation for being perfect hosts."

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CHAPTER1"SOMEONETOSEEYOU,COMMANDER."BenjaminSiskolookedupfromhisdesksharplyandtriedtoputonthefaceofamanwhohasjustbeendistractedfromimportantbusiness.Hisheartwasn'tinit.Heknewhe'dbeendaydreaming—somethingheseldomhadtheleisureortheinclinationtodosincetakingcommandofDeepSpaceNine.Somethinghehadonlyrec...

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