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 the Nekor, according to the Dessin-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 the Berajin 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."

"In it?" 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 was not." 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, "It can wait, it can'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 helping people, 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't hear 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 this favor?"

"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 to help 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—we couldn'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."

"Do you?"

"Absolutely." Nog's smile almost split his face. "Especially when our guests can foot the bill. Come on, I want to meet our new friend." He grabbed Jake's wrist and towed him rapidly down the Promenade.


Not too long after, Nog had ample reason to reevaluate his plans for Talis Cedra and any funds the Bajoran boy might command. He was lying facedown on the Promenade with Cedra pinning him to the floor at the time.

"Not the ears! Not the ears!" Nog wailed, wriggling and twitching in a desperate attempt to shield the most prized and sensitive portion of his anatomy. "Jake, make him let me up!"

Jake spread his hands and tried to look regretful. "I can't do that, Nog. It's between you and him. You told me to keep out of it."

"That was before this crazy fool knocked me down over a harmless little remark I—" He cast a nervous look up at Cedra. "Nothing personal," he said.

"You take back what you said about my sister and I'll let you up," Cedra growled. "Not before. You don't, and I'll fix it so you have to do all your listening through your puny, pathetic little nose."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I ever doubted your sister, I'm sorry I ever called your sister a phony, I'm sorry I ever heard of your sister! Is that enough?" the Ferengi gibbered.

Cedra sat back on Nog's rump, his knees still pinning Nog's arms helpless. "Buy us all something tasty and I'll let you know."

Nog's eyes doubled in size. "Buy?"

Cedra leaned forward and got an uncomfortable grip on Nog's ears. "Buy."

A short while later, the three boys were ensconced under a high-legged table in one of the holosuites at Quark's Place. A picnic of delicacies, plundered from the establishment's stores, lay in ruins before them. Cedra wiped sugary syrup from his mouth and sighed, content. "That was delicious, Nog. Any more?"

"No." The Ferengi was sullen and grumpy. "And when my uncle finds out I took so many of them, I'll catch it."

"If you only took 'so many' that means there are more," Cedra reasoned. "Go back and get them."

"I won't," Nog maintained. "These are a delicacy—Taxman's Delights don't come cheap! I'm not putting my neck on the line any further."

"But Nog—" The Bajoran threw one arm around the Ferengi's shoulders. "I thought we were friends." The arm tightened sharply into a choke hold.

"That's enough, Cedra." Jake yanked the Bajoran away from Nog. "It was one thing when you two were fighting on the Promenade and you were lucky Constable Odo didn't catch you. Nog deserved it then."

"What did I do?" the Ferengi implored, awash in wounded innocence. "Why does everyone always blame me?"

"I think it was the part where you said Cedra's sister was the best con artist you'd ever heard of," Jake said mischievously.

"Stupid hu-man! That's a compliment!" Nog yelled. "Look, my family's been aboard DS9 for years, since before the Cardassians left, right?" Jake nodded; Cedra's face remained unreadable. "We know what it's like down on the surface. We hear plenty. You wouldn't call me a liar if I said there's hundreds of kids like you and your sister down there, would you?" he appealed to Cedra.

"It's the truth," the Bajoran said.

"You bet it is! Hundreds of 'em, and does anybody care? Does anyone even mention they're down there?"

"You've got to admit, Nog," Jake said, "the kind of people who come to Quark's Place aren't going to be talking about war orphans."

"Not just them." Nog glowered at Jake. "Everyone. The shopkeepers, the maintenance crews, even the Bajoran monks in the shrine, none of them said a word about the kids."

"Maybe not where you'd find out about it."

"Not me, but Uncle Quark?" Nog's triumphant laughter sounded like a bark. "If he didn't hear it, it was never said."

"It's all right," Cera said calmly. "We're used to being ignored."

"Then get unused to it, Bajoran!" Nog responded. "I knew something was up as soon as you and your sister came aboard. Two orphans out of hundreds—why you? What made you two so special? Then I hear that it's not you anyone cares about, it's your sister."

"What did you hear about my sister, exactly?" There was an ominous note in Cedra's voice. Jake saw the boy's hands start to tighten into fists.

"Nothing." Nog popped the remains of a half-eaten Taxman's Delight into his mouth and chewed noisily. "Just that she was so special no one could know the reason why she was so special. My uncle sent me to the infirmary with a fruit basket for her—just a nice gesture of welcome. Constable Odo chased me halfway back to Quark's Place. It just seems funny to me. Like a big, fancy package, tied up with shiny paper and bows—who's to know if there's anything inside it but air?"

"You really don't like your ears, do you?" Cedra growled.

Nog looked unconcerned, but he put a little distance between himself and the Bajoran. "Did I say your sister was full of air? You take everything personally, that's your trouble. Back home, we've got a story about two brothers. One day, the younger one showed up with a bottle and told his older brother he'd captured a gragol—"

"A what?" Jake asked.

"A wish-spirit. I didn't say this was a true story. Shut up and let me finish. The older brother wanted to see proof. He told the younger brother to uncork the bottle and make the gragol grant him a wish, but the younger brother said that this was a very small gragol and it had only one wish left to grant. As soon as the bottle was uncorked you had to make the last wish fast or the gragol would vanish and you'd have nothing. So he convinced his older brother to buy the bottle from him—"

"—and it turned out to be just an empty bottle," Cedra finished the story for him. "Is that what you're saying? That my sister's as big a phony as the younger brother in that story?" He crouched, getting ready to throw himself onto Nog again.

The Ferengi made a guttural sound of disgust. "You don't know how to listen. No, that's not what happened. There really was a gragol in the bottle, but when the older brother opened it to make his wish he forgot one thing: Whenever he got excited, he always stuttered! The gragol flew away while he was still saying 'I w-w-wish I had a b-b-b-billion b-b-b-bars of g-g-gold-p-p-p-pressed latinum.' So he took the empty bottle and broke it over his younger brother's head, got his money back, and told everyone that his younger brother was a swindler—an incompetent swindler." It was obviously the ultimate Ferengi insult.

Cedra sat down and looked totally bewildered. "I don't get it."

"It's a Ferengi thing," Jake whispered to him. "I think it means that he's not insulting your sister unless he's sure it's safe. Just eat your cake and forget about it."

With a second wind, the three boys soon demolished what was left of the stolen feast. When crumbs and empty cups were all that remained, Nog said, "My father thinks I'm working in here. You two help me. If we get done fast I'll show you something fun."

"Fun?" Cedra was interested already.

Nog's tiny eyes sparkled. "Ever seen a holosuite, Bajoran?"

"Come on, Nog, if we turn on this suite, we're all going to get it from your uncle and my dad," Jake protested.

"I'm not going to turn on that kind of program," Nog sneered.

"What kind?" Cedra was really interested now. Jake leaned over and whispered all he knew of the holosuite's potential delights. Cedra's eyes grew wider and wider the longer Jake spoke. "Naked?" he gasped. "Seven? In a pool full of what?"

"Anything you want." Nog folded his arms across his chest proudly. "My uncle Quark spared no expense on this system. It's easy to program and there are no limits. Look, I'll show you." He scampered over to a panel by the door and revealed a keypad. A few taps of his fingertips, a few commands spoken aloud, and a tall, statuesque, bejeweled, nearly naked Bajoran redhead was standing at his side, her arms draped around him in loving embrace. She bore more than a passing resemblance to Major Kira.

"Want one?" Nog offered, showing all his teeth.

Cedra's face went bright red and he turned away.

"Better cancel her, Nog," Jake cautioned. "We're not supposed to be fooling around with the holosuite controls."

"Coward." The Ferengi sneered, but he dispatched the redhead to invisibility. "Even if Uncle Quark did catch us, I was only trying to teach our new friend how to use a hologram projector. He is allowed to use the holosystems, isn't he?"

"The holosystems?" Cedra's color was back to normal and he was attentive once more.

"Like this place, only with different program options than the ones Quark's got," Jake explained. "There are hologram system ports in our classroom and in some of the shops, and Dad says Chief O'Brien's installed a small one in Ops, too, but they're nothing like this one."

"If they were, customers wouldn't pay us so much to get in here," Nog gloated.

Cedra studied the control panel on the wall. "Tell me more …" Jake and Nog did so gladly. The two friends found themselves vying to give the Bajoran as much information as they could. Something about Cedra's expression promised them a very rich return on their investment. Jake in particular thought he recognized it: it was the same gleeful look of mischievous anticipation he'd seen facing him in the mirror just before he went along with one of Nog's schemes.

Makes sense, I guess, he thought. It gets kind of boring here, sometimes. Even getting in trouble's better than more of the same, and there's always the chance we won't get caught. Besides, I'll bet this is the first time in Cedra's life he's been able to just relax and have some fun. Look at him! He's thinking up something good right now; I'd bet on it.

Then Cedra spoke, and as Jake listened he realized that his bet was about to pay off bigger than he'd ever dreamed.


"Miles! Thank goodness you're here!" Keiko cried, seizing her husband's arm and dragging him into the classroom.

"I came as soon as you called," he panted. "I was flat on my back halfway down an access channel when—" The words froze on his tongue.

There, in the middle of a classroom full of innocent children, stood a fully armed and armored Cardassian warrior. He strode between the desks, glowering at them fiercely. The ghastly face with its heavily pronounced ridges of bone and ropes of muscle looked familiar.

"Gul Dukat," O'Brien breathed, naming the former Cardassian commander of Deep Space Nine. "What the hell is he doing here?" He reached for his comm badge to summon help.

Keiko's hand closed over his, preventing him. "He's our astronomy lesson," she said. She didn't sound amused.

"He's what?" Before Miles could get an answer, the Cardassian lord stopped in front of a desk occupied by a very young Bajoran girl. He loomed above her like a wave about to come crashing down. Her eyes and mouth were three perfect circles of awe as she watched him raise his fists high above his head—

—and execute a dainty pirouette in place while a frilly pink tutu blossomed at his waist. Prancing and mincing on tiptoe, Gul Dukat sang a song declaring that he was just a little kata-bunny in the sunshine. The class rocked and howled with laughter.

"He was supposed to be a holographic projection of the wormhole," Keiko said grimly.

"Uh?" O'Brien was incapable of speech.

"Miles, this is serious. "She shook him. "I can't cancel the image or override the program. The children have gone wild. I want this stopped and then I want to know who's responsible for it."

"Oh." Miles was still staring at the twirling Cardassian. "Um … I'll fix it right away." He dashed out of the classroom before he, too, exploded with laughter.


Security Chief Odo paced slowly back and forth before the three boys awaiting their fate in his office. "A Bajoran couple, having rented one of your uncle's holosuites for a special occasion, is suddenly surrounded by Klingons singing opera," he announced, glaring at Nog.

Jake looked at the floor. Nog squirmed. Cedra remained standing tall, meeting Odo's eye steadily whenever the shapeshifter looked his way.

"A hardworking businessmen, on returning to his quarters, attempts to use his personal holoport to view a sporting event and is instead regaled with a sermon by a miniature monk who thwarts all attempts to have his program terminated," Odo continued. "The classroom holoport remains unusable. The complaints from some of the other holosuites at Quark's Place are not fit to repeat. There are hyurin dancing on the counter at Garak's tailor shop whenever he attempts to show a customer holograms of the latest styles …" He stopped pacing and faced the boys. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"He did it!" Nog exclaimed without hesitation, pointing at Cedra.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Odo's voice gave up nothing. He eyed Cedra. The Bajoran remained unmoved, although there was an almost imperceptible quiver at the corner of his mouth, and his nostrils flared with something that might have been suppressed laughter. "Nice try, Nog," the shapeshifter grated. "Talis Cedra is new here. Do you expect me to believe he could recognize a holosystem control, let alone know how to use one? Use one well enough so that all Chief O'Brien's efforts to fix the problem are blocked by a series of failsafe commands to counter his every attempt at entering the system?" Odo added. He shook his head. "You'll have to do better than that."

"I'm telling the truth, I swear!" the Ferengi shouted. "Ask my father if you don't believe me. Ask my uncle!"

"One Ferengi to vouch for another," Odo commented. "Of course. Why didn't I think of that."

"Probably because you've made up your mind already," Cedra stated.

"What did you say?" The constable gave him a sharp look.

"What you heard," Cedra replied calmly. "Unless it was something you didn't want to hear."

"Are you implying that I am not a reliable witness?" Odo's primitively molded face darkened.

Cedra was unruffled. "No more than you've implied that I'm too stupid to learn how to use the holosystem. You never alter evidence, Constable; that's not in your nature. But sometimes—when the way things are doesn't fit the way your sense of justice says they ought to be—you're tempted, aren't you?"

Odo's shoulders stiffened. "So it was you."

"I told you!" Nog acted wounded. "I said he did it!"

"He said he learned to do it. The question remains: who was his teacher?" Odo regarded all three of the boys closely. "Unless you want me to believe you had access to hologram projectors at that refugee camp." This last was directed at Cedra alone.

"Maybe you should go there yourself and see what we have," Cedra answered. "It might help you learn that worse than not knowing where you come from, is knowing there's nowhere you can go."

For once, Odo had no acerbic comment to make. He stared at the small, scrawny Bajoran as if the two of them had suddenly had their positions reversed. Now knowing where you come fro— How did he know? The instant's qualm passed. Rumors. This station is riddled with them. If he's been running around with Quark's nephew, he's had his head stuffed with every bit of gossip on the station by now, including all there is to know about me.

"If you want to play games, I'm sure Commander Sisko will have some new ones to teach you when he arrives," the shapeshifter said.

"You sent for my father?" Jake was alarmed.

"I thought it might be in order," Odo said dryly. "He'll have a word or two to say about creating new problems for Chief O'Brien when he's got more vital repairs to make."

"You won't imprison us, will you?" For the first time, Odo saw concern on Cedra's face.

"I wasn't planning on it. Commander Sisko might order you confined to your quarters, but—"

"He can't! Dejana needs me! She's sick," Cedra cried.

"Your sister is getting the best of care. She ought to be out of the infirmary tomorrow."

"I can't be separated from her; I won't be!" Cedra's cheeks paled. "Constable, if I give you my word that I won't touch the hologram system again, if I help Chief O'Brien get it back to normal, will you tell Commander Sisko I cooperated with you?"

"I'll see what I can do." Even the normally impassive Odo was perturbed by the Bajoran child's agitation. "But I assure you, your sister is perfectly safe—"

"Not without me!" Cedra insisted. "She doesn't know what they'll want from her. What good is it to get her out of the camp if they tear her to pieces here?"

Nog nudged Jake and whispered, "Who wants to tear her to pieces?"

Jake shrugged. "I heard Dad talking with Lieutenant Dax and Ensign Kahrimanis about Talis Dejana, but—"

"Later," the Ferengi hissed. "I want to hear this."

"Calm yourself," Odo directed Cedra. "Your sister is safe."

Cedra shook his head. "Not until she's been presented at the Temple. Maybe not even then, but at least once the Dessin-ka have seen her, they'll be her protectors. Please, Constable, I can't be apart from her for long. I've always looked out for her …"

"Then it's time you allowed someone else to take over that job. You are young. I suggest you see if you can't find some way of enjoying your youth without setting the whole station on ear."

Cedra met Odo's gaze with a look that added years to the boy. "It's always easier to play, isn't it?" he said. "To do tricks for an audience and earn applause, that's cleaner than dealing with thieves and murderers, trying to see justice done. Yet we choose our work, no matter how hard, because it creates us in our own image."

Odo's brows met, or would have, if he had any. He had the unsettling feeling that the boy had just held up a mirror between them and made it vanish, all in an instant "What did you say?"

A guileless smile replaced Cedra's sober expression. "I said I promise I'll be a good boy. Please let me see my sister?"

"Please, Constable." Jake joined his voice to Cedra's. "It wasn't all his fault I'm the one who came up with the pink tutu for Gul Dukat, and Nog suggested the Klingon opera singers."

"Hey! I never did!" Nog objected. "You can't prove it!"

Odo took control. "Very well. Commander Sisko has better things to do than deal with you three. I'll release you on your word of honor—even you, Nog—but if I catch you tampering with the holosystem again—"

His threat was met by a chorus of effusive oaths as the boys swore up and down that they would sooner die, be dismembered, or get their earlobes clipped before they would dream of touching a projector after this. Odo didn't believe it for a minute, but he was satisfied for the time being. "Fine. Cedra, you report to Chief O'Brien. You two can go where you please."

In the corridor outside Odo's office, Cedra waved a quick farewell to his new friends and ran off to find Chief O'Brien. Jake turned to Nog, grinning.

"See? I told you he'd be all right."

The Ferengi snorted. "Almost got us arrested and you call that all right? Where's the profit in that?"

"Well, we didn't get arrested. We didn't even have to face my father. He talked Odo out of it for us."

"He is a very good talker," Nog admitted. He grew thoughtful. "What did you father say about Cedra's sister?"

Jake tried to recall. "He called her something—a Bajoran word I never heard before—but whatever it was, he made it real clear to Lieutenant Dax and Ensign Kahrimanis that they weren't supposed to repeat it. Ensign Kahrimanis said not to worry, he'd had firsthand experience with how dangerous it could get when people knew who Talis Dejana was. So I guess it's okay if I forgot what Dad called her." He smiled, but Nog remained serious. Jake gave him a friendly shove. "Hey! Snap out of it. Let's go back to the Promenade and get some glop-on-a-stick or something. I don't want to do my homework yet."

"Find your Bajoran friend, if that's what you want," Nog snapped. "I have important business to look after." He stalked away, leaving a bewildered Jake behind.


"You finished with Chief O'Brien already?" Jake was surprised to find Cedra waiting for him when he returned to his quarters.

"They wouldn't let me stay in the infirmary. What's the matter?" Cedra was stretched out on Jake's bed fully clothed, staring at the ceiling. "Don't I belong here either?"

"No, you're welcome here, but I thought that if you were done helping fix the holosystem, you'd rather be having some more fun out—"

"That fun almost got me separated from my sister."

"Well, it was your idea," Jake mumbled.

"Oh, good; Nog's contagious," Cedra remarked.

"Huh?"

"Is avoiding responsibility the only thing you picked up from him?" Cedra inquired. "Or did you catch all the symptoms?" He rolled onto his stomach. "I think I've discovered a new disease—creeping Ferengitis. I feel just like Dr. Bashir."

Jake sat down at the foot of the bed. "Do you think they'll ever find him?"

"Who?"

"Dr. Bashir."

"Yes." Cedra chewed his thumb. "No." He rested his chin on his interlaced fingers. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Well, that covers it." Jake sounded disgusted.

"Leave me alone. I'm tired of having all the answers." Cedra flopped back to his original position and yawned. "I'm just plain tired. Let me sleep."

"Okay." Jake got up and fetched a set of pajamas. He dropped the wad of cloth on Cedra's head in jest. "Those ought to fit."

The Bajoran sat up and studied the pajamas with interest. "What's this?"

"Pajamas. Or I can find you a nightshirt if you want. What did you wear to sleep in on Bajor?"

"Whatever we had on," Cedra answered. "Or nothing, when the weather was warm."

"You can do that here, too, if you want. Just put on a robe if you get out of bed. Dad's kind of conservative."

"No, no." Cedra held up the pajamas and stroked the soft material appreciatively. "These are great."

Jake grinned. "Try them on."

Cedra went pale. "What?"

"Try them on. See if they fit."

"Now?" Cedra clutched the pajamas to his chest. "You said you wanted to go to sleep. You've got to see if they're the right size. If not, I'll see if I can replicate something else." Jake sat down beside Cedra and took the pajama top. "Try the bottoms first. If those are too tight—" He made a pained face. "You know how that can feel."

Cedra jumped up. "Later. I'm not that tired anymore. Hey, how about we go find Nog and see if we can't get him to come up with some more of those Taxman's Delights?"

Jake was bewildered. "I thought you said you were tired."

"I'm tired of not eating." He playfully threw the pajama bottoms in Jake's face and dashed out of the room shouting, "Last one to find Nog's a kata-bunny!"

* * *

"A Bajoran word?" Quark repeated his nephew's scrap of news irritably. "A Bajoran word you don't even know? How in the name of all the Rules of Acquisition am I supposed to turn that into a profit?"

"But Uncle Quark, think!" Nog insisted. "It's something they think must be hidden! People only bother to hide things of great value."

A slow, snaggletoothed smile slowly spread itself across Quark's face. "Is that so? All the secrecy … hmmm …" He clapped Nog on the back and cackled. "You're right, boy! I'm proud of you. With a mind like that, you'll be able to buy and sell your own father at a profit someday soon."

"I'd rather sell you, Uncle." Nog was sincere. "You're worth more than my father."

"So I am, so I am," the adult Ferengi said complacently. "You stick with me, Nog. Tell me everything you know. Together we'll find the answer to this puzzle and a way to wring some profit out of it."

"Shared profit," Nog prompted.

"Shared profit," Quark agreed. Under his breath he added, "A five-percent share for you, ninety-five for me."