Suspect (story)

ambassadormolari

So, this is a story that I originally began as an aborted LC, that I've since decided to flesh out as a mini-story by itself that I'll be writing in addition to "Honour Among Thieves." Mainly, I hope to use this story to introduce a new member of the Archimedes crew, though I also like the idea of a story focusing on one of my BOFFs for a change. Anyway, enjoy!



Captain's Log, Stardate 92541.721:

The Archimedes has been rerouted from research and recovery operations in the Solanae Dyson Sphere to escort Ambassador Sorel to Deep Space Nine, where, along with ambassadors from the Klingon Empire and Romulan Republic, he will meet with a representative of the Dominion. In the wake of recent setbacks and casualties in the Dyson Sphere, as well as losses incurred fighting off the Undine assaults on Andoria and Gornar, the Allied powers have agreed to ask the Dominion for aid against both the Voth and the Undine. Obviously, there are many who think that this is a risky course of action-- that allowing Dominion forces through the Wormhole will give them a springboard from which they can try again to conquer the Alpha Quadrant. While I agree with these concerns somewhat, I also know that outside aid is desperately needed. I am no strategist, but I have been to Solanae warzone, and participated in the defence of Andoria. I know that unless something can be done to break the stalemates against the Voth and Undine, our alliance with the Klingons and the Romulans will collapse.

At the moment, we have been on Deep Space Nine for one day, and already, there have been a few isolated incidents on the station with the Dominion delegation. I can only hope, for the sake of these talks, that these isolated incidents don't spiral into something much worse.


*********


It was early morning, eight o'clock Bajor time, when the body was found.

Eraun, one of the two Vorta sent to Deep Space Nine, had been in his quarters all throughout the night, with his detachment of Jem'Hadar bodyguards standing vigilantly outside his door. No corners had been cut in ensuring the Dominion ambassador's safety: a thorough biofilter sweep ensured that his quarters were free of any known contaminants, and all surfaces of the room had been coated with a fine web of sensor lines that would alert Ops if any unknown biometric signiatures crossed them. The only thing the Deep Space Nine couldn't do was maintain a constant visual and sensor feed of Eraun's quarters-- the Vorta had been quite adamant that he not be spied upon by his Federation guests, and declared that any attempts to monitor him visually would be treated as a breach of neutrality.

So it was that no one had any idea what went on in Eraun's quarters that night. Everyone, though, knew of its grisly aftermath: when Eraun's bodyguards entered his quarters the following morning, they found the Vorta lying spread-eagled on a bloodstained mattress. His long-lobed ears had been sliced off with a keen cutting edge, his eyes had been gouged out to leave two bloody, sightless pits, and his throat had been sliced open into a yawning smile.


*******

"This is outrageous!" Loriss exclaimed. "You mean to tell me that your paltry security systems didn't detect anything?"

Standing on the opposite end of the meeting table, Captain Kurland looked like he was doing his best to maintain his composure. It must not have been easy, Arkos thought, given that the woman screaming at him had conquered his station only a few months before and had killed off a good many of his officers.

"I mean to tell you, Ambassador Loriss," Deep Space Nine's commander said with slow, measured words, "that there were no life forms detected at all in Eraun's quarters last night, not even that of Eraun himself. Now, we might have been able to detect a fluctuation in Eraun's vital signs that night if he hadn't put a dampening field on his own quarters--"

Loriss' face reddened even further. "No. Do not even think of blaming us, Captain," she said, her words almost coming out in a hiss. "Eraun was killed on your own station. That makes this your responsibility!"

Kurland looked like he was about to shout something back in protest. Thankfully, Ambassador Sorel chose that moment to interject. "And the Federation acknowledges this responsibility," he replied, his voice bearing a smooth calmness that mirrored the unmarred handsomeness of his patrician features. "Rest assured, Ambassador Loriss, we will find out whoever killed Ambassador Eraun, and bring them to justice."

Loriss seemed a little satisfied by Sorel's response. A little-- there was still some guarded hostility in her purple eyes as she focused them on Sorel. "Your willingness to cooperate is appreciated, Ambassador Sorel," she said, her voice smoothing over into its usual glassy calm, "but bear in mind that this killer has murdered a servant of the Founders. By rights, this person, whoever he or she is, should face Dominion justice once they are found."

Sorel looked like he was going to say something in reply, but another voice cut him off before he could speak. "Enough," growled Krogh, the Klingon ambassador. "It is pointless to bicker over who should punish this assassin when we do not even have a suspect yet! I suggest we focus our efforts on apprehending the murderer first, and then decide who gets to enact justice!"

Next to Krogh, Satris, the Romulan ambassador, nodded in agreement. "Captain Kurland, what data has your forensics team gathered from the murder site?" the elderly Romulan woman asked.

Kurland gave a defeated sigh. "Nothing conclusive," he said, passing a PADD across the table towards Loriss, who picked it up and began to tap at it. "Eraun appeared to have suffered severe slicing and slashing wounds from a bladed instrument of some sort on his face and throat. There were no signs of a struggle, though, and no murder weapon was found. Forensic analysis and sensor sweeps also indicate no sign of any forced entry, or of anyone having been in the room other than Eraun."

"So a ghost did it. Well, that's just lovely," grumbled the Orion KDF officer who stood next to Krogh. His name, apparently, was Lynathru, and he had been sent as the KDF representative alongside Krogh. Already, most of the people at this table seemed to have developed a dislike of the surly, abrasive Orion, and Arkos found himself joining their number.

"There are a number of entities that could have avoided detection, Captain Lynathru," spoke the Romulan officer who accompanied Satris-- a thin, severe-looking woman named Ta'nara Velar. "The Tal Shiar have perfected many assassination methods that leave no visible trace. And then there are other species that are known to defy sensors and leave no physical evidence behind-- Devidians, for instance, or Undine. Or...any other kind of shape-shifter." Ta'nara didn't specifically use the word Changeling, but the withering expression Loriss gave her meant that the barb had stuck all the same.

A thought quickly formed in Arkos' head. "Here's another possibility-- could the wounds have been self-inflicted?" he asked. "If there were no signs of a struggle, that means either the attacker took Eraun by complete surprise, or...he did this to himself."

Loriss turned and gave Arkos a mirthful laugh, though her eyes were daggers. "Don't be silly, Captain Nair," she replied. "Contrary to whatever the Federation believes, the Dominion's cloning process is flawless. No neurological imperfections would exist in a Vorta that would prompt something so careless and disobedient as self-mutilation or suicide. Besides, as dear Captain Kurland has already pointed out, there was no murder weapon at the scene that Eraun could have killed himself with."

Near the middle of the table, the Cardassian Union's representative gave a tired sigh. "So we have a murder investigation on our hands? Oh dear." Rugan Skyle turned and flashed Loriss an insoucient look. "Oh well, I'm certain it won't be too hard to find the culprit. It's not like there's hardly anyone on this station who has a particular dislike for the Dominion, now is there?"

Arkos visibly winced, even as Loriss flashed Skyle a look of icy anger. The Cardassian's pompous, derogatory attitude had been threatening to put a premature end to the negotiations since they had begun, and lately he had been taking cheap shots at Loriss whenever he could. Thankfully, Ambassador Sorel once cut in to avoid a diplomatic disaster.

"Speculation appears to be getting us nowhere," he said. "I think a more productive use of our time would be for all of us to contribute to the investigation." He looked pointedly at Skyle when he said all of us. Skyle, as usual, didn't seem to notice.

Kurland gave a weary nod. "As much as I'd like to leave this to our security staff, they've been short-handed ever since our recent...misunderstanding with the Dominion." Arkos could see that the Human was doing his best to keep his anger in check: the 2800 incident was still fresh on everyone's minds, and Kurland had lost plenty of officers during the incident. "I'm afraid that Deep Space Nine presently does not have the resources or staff to conduct a thorough investigation."

Arkos leaned forward. "Then allow me to help," he said. "My security staff can take charge of the investigation if DS9's constabulary is still under-strength."

"You?" Lynathru sneered. "Last I checked, Starfleet's incompetence was being blamed for this whole fiasco--"

There was a tremendous thump as Krogh's fist slammed against the table. "That is enough, Captain," he said, forcefully without raising his voice. Turning back to Arkos, and then Sorel, the ageing Klingon nodded. "The Empire will provide whatever assistance it can, but...this is a Federation station, so we will defer to Starfleet's lead in this investigation."

"The Romulan Republic seconds this motion," Satris added with a nod.

"The Cardassian Union, sadly, abstains." Arkos could see the ghost of a smile at the corner of Rugan Skyle's mouth. "Oh, we would love to help, really, but...I'm afraid we don't have any resources to spare for this kind of investigation. Our hands are full with True Way counterterrorism, you understand."

Loriss glanced at Skyle. "Oh, what a pity, Ambassador Skyle. It so saddens me to hear of Cardassians killing other Cardassians," she quipped, no doubt relishing the opportunity to snipe back at Skyle. She turned to the rest of the assembled ambassadors and gave them a charming smile. "The Dominion, on the other hand, thirds this motion. As I said, we appreciate the Federation's willingness to cooperate in this matter." Her purple eyes fixed on Arkos. "However, there is one...amendment I would like to make to your suggestion, Captain Nair..."


******

"Wait, you volunteered me for WHAT, Captain?"

Arkos poured himself a mug of lukewarm raktajino as they stood in his office. "Finding Eraun's killer," he said matter-of-factly. "And we have twenty-four hours to do so before the Dominion pull out of the talks altogether. I figured that someone with your experience would be a big asset to the investigation." He glanced up at Brax. "You did tell me, after all, that you spent a lot of time on Deep Space Nine before joining Starfleet."

Brax fidgeted a little as he stood at attention. "Well yes, but--"

"And you're also such a pro at investigative work!" Arkos said with a beaming smile. "Your record practically speaks for itself, given how many murderers you had to track down on Ferenginar and Drozana." He took a sip from his cup. "A man like you knows how to gain leads and follow them, which makes you exactly the sort of man we need right now, Lieutenant Commander."

Brax took a deep breath. His plans for spending the day at the dabo tables were rapidly disapppearing. "Sir...with all due respect, isn't this the problem of the DS9 security team?"

Arkos frowned. "Yes, normally it would be," he said, "but they've been short-staffed ever since the 2800 incident. So as of this moment, it's OUR problem." He gulped down the rest of the raktajino. "Well, ours, and the Klingons, and the Romulans. And I should add that they all agreed to follow your lead for this investigation."

Brax blinked in surprise. "My lead?" He found himself fidgeting even more now. "Sir, I'm...flattered that you're putting so much faith in me, but...I work best on the ground, doing things myself. Not...sitting behind a desk COORDINATING an investigation."

Arkos set his empty mug down with an authoritative clack. "Then you'd better get down to DS9 and get to it, Mister," he said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Knowing that he wasn't going to win this battle, Brax gave a defeated nod. "Yes, sir." No rest for the wicked, he thought to himself, remembering the Hoo-mon term.

Nodding back, Arkos turned and walked towards his desk. "One more thing. The Dominion delegation was adamant that this be a multilateral effort." He pressed a button on his terminal. "They insisted that they have one of their officers assist you in this investigation."

Brax stared at his Captain for a few seconds, his eyes slowly widening in horror. "You can't mean--"

He was cut short as the door hissed open and a Jem'Hadar came striding into the room. Like all Jem'Hadar, he cut a tall and imposing figure, clad in a padded grey and black bodyglove that barely seemed to contain his powerful form. His grey-scaled head was ridged with bony crests running along his skull and chin, and Brax could see a thin white tube running from his neck to a device on his chest. His face looked like a slab of armoured granite, and seemed just as cheerful as he strode into the room and stood stiffly to attention in front of Arkos.

Brax had never seen a Jem'Hadar up close before, but he had seen all of the holo-vids of them from the Dominion War, and had read a lot about their brutal combat prowess and their callous disregard for life in general. And now he was being forced to partner with one of them.

"I am Third Vorak'Utaur," he said, his voice deep and rich. From where Brax was standing, the Jem'Hadar easily towered over Arkos. "Loriss assigned me to assist in this investigation."

Arkos nodded, not looking phased at all by the height of the newcomer. "I'm Captain Arkos Nair, of the U.S.S. Archimedes." He gestured to Brax. "This is my Chief of Security, Lieutenant Commander Brax. He's the one you'll be assisting."

Vorak'Utaur turned, seemingly noticing Brax for the first time. His granite-like expression hardened into a withering scowl. "A Ferengi," he said, not bothering to hide the contempt from his voice. "You are entrusting this investigation to a Ferengi."

As huge as Vorak'Utaur was, Brax felt indignant anger well up in him. He straightened up and met the Jem'Hadar's gaze directly. "How many crimes have you investigated, Third?" he asked. "Because before I joined Starfleet, I was a ranked investigator among my people."

Vorak'Utaur seemed to sense a challenge, and took a step forward. "There is a danger on Deep Space Nine," he said, "one which threatens the lives of our delegation. Ferengi COWER in the face of danger."

Brax steeled himself. If he was going to be working with this big lug, then first impressions were going to matter. "Ferengi also use their heads," he said, continuing to stare Vorak'Utaur down. "What do you think is more useful in an investigation, Third? Bravery, or wits?"

Standing near his desk, Arkos clapped his hands together. "I'll let you two get on with it," he said. "The sooner you get started, the better. You are dismissed, Lieutenant."

Brax turned in alarm to Arkos. "Wait, Captain, I..." He stopped, realizing that it was far too late to back out, and nodded. "Yes, sir."

Slowly, he glanced back up at Vorak'Utaur, who was glowering down at him with his arms folded. "So, um...Third? Could you follow me? Please?"

sander233

Ooh, this looks entertaining. :cool:

Unknown

This content has been removed.

aiurdae

Good story, but why would anyone care if a Vorta was murdered? They could always just activate Eruan number whatever, who would have all the memories of the last one.

jonsills

And whoever or whatever tortured the last Eraun to death will do the same to the next one, and so on ad inifinitum - or will start in on crew members who aren't so easily replaced. A murderer who gets away with it once is liable to do it again.

ambassadormolari

The Promenade was just as Brax remembered it-- less dark and dingy than Drozana, and yet at the same time slightly more cramped. A variety of different faces walked back and forth, dressed in a riot of colours, engaged in every activity from casual conversation, to haggling, to arguing over the price of lockboxes. He could see everything on sale, from spacefaring equipment, to Klingon food, to live animals. Brax couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about DS9's environment put him at ease. He could learn to live in a place like this, if he was able.

Right now, though, DS9 was suddenly feeling a little less inviting. Brax did his best to ignore all of the stares he was getting as he strode out of the airlock. He tried to console himself that it wasn't him all these civilians were staring at, but at the glowering Jem'Hadar that strode alongside him, inspecting the area with the harrowing glare of someone inspecting an enemy for weakness.

"We should start by searching for anyone with strong anti-Dominion sentiments," Vorak'Utaur said firmly as they strode down the hall of the Promenade. If he was conscious of all the frightened stares he was getting, he paid them no heed. "It is likely that Eraun's murder was carried out with malice, given the mutilation done to his body. Therefore, we should search the constabulary's records for anyone who has a strong anti-Dominion bias--"

Brax rubbed his frontal lobes. This was going to be a long day, he realized. "Yes, that's...not such a good idea, Third," he said.

Vorak'Utaur stopped and stared down at Brax. "Why not, Ferengi?" Thus far he had yet to use Brax's actual name and rank. Brax had a feeling he was going to be called Ferengi all day.

Brax gestured outwards. "Because most of the people on this STATION have strong anti-Dominion sentiments," he replied. As if to emphasize his point, he saw a nearby Bajoran woman hurriedly rushing her children out of eyesight, glancing fearfully at Vorak'Utaur all the while. "Your people aren't exactly popular here, you know."

The Jem'Hadar stared down at Brax, though whether it was out of suspicion or confusion, Brax couldn't tell. "Why?"

The comment almost made Brax's jaw drop. For a few seconds, he found himself unable to reply. "You're...you're asking me why no one likes Jem'Hadar?"

"I fail to see what the Dominion has done to earn such hatred," Vorak'Utaur said, plainly and matter-of-factly.

Brax blinked, unable to quite understand what he was hearing. "Your entire fleet came barging in here not too long ago, killed almost every Starfleet officer on the station, imposed an oppressive state of martial law on the civilians...and you're wondering why people hate you so much?"

Vorak'Utar seemed genuinely confused now. "The actions of the Fifth Invasion Group are to be commended," he said. "They obeyed the orders of the Founders, despite being lost to us for more than forty years. They acted out of loyalty and duty. Why should they be despised for that?"

Brax was at a loss for words. Vorak'Utaur genuinely didn't seem to understand that people didn't like being invaded. He rubbed his forehead. "I...you...forget it."

"I cannot, I have a good memory."

"No, I didn't mean..." Yep, this was definitely going to be a long day. "Look, I already have security teams canvassing the murder site, and I've been told that your people took Eraun's body back. I think the best place to start would be to ask your ship's medical officer what they've found."

Vorak'Utaur frowned."Deep Space Nine has already provided a forensic report."

"A hasty one," Brax countered, "because your people snatched the body away before they could determine an official cause of death! Otherwise, we might have been able to determine things like the make of the blade that killed Eraun, or whether or not the attacker left any skin or hair samples on the body. You know, important things that will help us catch this killer!" He took a deep breath, and noted, at this point, that people were making an effort to walk around them as they stood in the middle of the avenue. "So, why don't you save us a lot of trouble, Third, and ring you ship so we can pay your med-bay a visit?"

Vorak'Utaur's frown seemed to deepen. "No."

Brax was taken aback by the quickness of the refusal. "Why not?"

"Because Loriss has forbidden Starfleet personnel from entering onto her ship," Vorak'Utaur said firmly. "More to the point, outsiders are not allowed to witness Dominion medical practices."

Brax gave an exasperated sigh. He'd heard about how annoyingly secretive the Dominion could be. "Look, Third, right now we aren't interested in your weird little cloning techniques. If the Federation really wanted to clone people, we would have started doing it by now."

The Jem'Hadar's eyes narrowed. "Your Federation also claims to be above genocide," he said, a hint of venom in his voice, "and yet you once deliberately poisoned the Founders."

The comment made Brax wince. A part of him wanted to argue back that the Dominion had no right to be angry about that, given what they had done to worlds like Betazed and Cardassia, and given what they all-to-recently did to Deep Space Nine. But an argument, here in the Promenade, would serve no purpose, especially against someone who was a lot larger and meaner than him.

"Look, this is getting us nowhere," Brax said. "I need to know, are your people going to make another clone of Eraun? Because if he could remember how he....well, died, then that would be really helpful."

Vorak'Utaur's face remained stony and suspicious. "That information, Ferengi, is classified."

This elicited another exasperated sigh from Brax. "Figures," he muttered. "Alright, if we can't do that, then let's pay Engineering a visit."

The Jem'Hadar's brow furrowed. "Why?" he asked. "Do you suspect one of the engineering staff did it?"

Brax nearly jumped in alarm. "What? No! Will you stop jumping to conclusions like that? They may have maintenance logs of what was going on in Eraun's quarters like that-- DS9 may not have been allowed to scan his quarters last night, but they still might have detected some mechanical oddities going on in there."

vorak'Utaur seemed to consider this for a moment. Then, to Brax's relief, the Jem'Hadar gave a slow nod. "I will follow your lead then, Ferengi," he said. "For now."

"Glad to hear it," Brax muttered. "At this rate, we're going to be the best of friends before this is over."


******


Engineering, Central Core, Deep Space Nine

"You want to know if something mechanically suspicious was going on?" Chief Algav grunted. "This is Deep Space Nine, Lieutenant Commander. There's always something mechanically suspocious going on."

Brax gave DS9's Chief Engineer a puzzled look. "How do you mean, Chief?" he asked. Next to him, Vorak'Utaur loomed over him like a shadow, once again seemingly ignoring the stares that Algav's personnel were giving him.

The Tellarite gave an annoyed sigh. "Look, Lieutenant, this is a big station, with hundreds of thousands of people living on it. A huge number of those hundreds of thousands of people wind up doing shady things half the time, and we end up seeing the effects here in Engineering. People tampering with environmental controls or reprogramming holosuites, for example. Come on, here's an example..." Algav led them over to an alcove in the nearby wall, where he grabbed a nearby handle an pulled out a drawer full of isolinear chips. "Thousands of illegal downloads from our data network from this month alone, most of which is Orion pornography!"

Brax looked down at the drawer, and quietly pulled out one of the chips. Both Algav and Vorak'Utaur stared at him.

"What? It might be relevant." Pocketing the chip, Brax turned back to Algav. "I get that the station is one big pot of illegal activity, Chief, but did you notice anything mechanically odd going on around Eraun's quarters, specifically?"

Algav frowned. "Not much we could notice, given that he had both a dampening field and a data scrambler up in his quarters." He glared up accusingly at Vorak'Utaur as he mentioned that last part. He turned and walked towards a nearby console. "However, your timing's pretty good, Lieutenant Commander. Not ten minutes ago, we did notice one odd thing in the system feedback logs from Eraun's quarters."

Brax perked up. "What's that?"

Algav tapped the console, and a list of technical data began to scroll down. "Eraun used the replicator twice last night."

The comment made Brax frown. "How is that odd?"

"The first recorded replicator use was two to four minutes before the estimated time of death that Medical gave," Algav replied. "The second time was bout five minutes after."

A silence settled between the three of them. Brax felt the itch in his lobes he usually got when his suspicions were aroused. There was a lot that Brax didn't know about the Vorta, admittedly, but he doubted that they could get back up and order a raktajino after being brutally murdered.

"What was replicated?" Brax asked. "Do you know?"

Algav shook his shaggy head. "That's the weird thing, we can't get a clear log reading of what was being replicated," he replied. "It's as though someone went and altered the log, though to do that they'd have to first hack into our maintenance files."

This just got interesting. "That explains why we didn't find a murder weapon," Brax said. "Eraun's murderer must have used the replicator to dissassemble it!"

"It possibly explains the method as well." Brax glanced in surprise at Vorak'Utaur as he spoke up. The Jem'Hadar glanced down at Algav. "Chief Algav, could someone potentially key a transporter signiature to the replicator system, to mask a possible transport from sensors?"

Algav stared up in surprise at the Jem'Hadar. "In...theory, yes," he said slowly, "but that would require incredible technical expertise."

"Yet it IS possible," Vorak'Utaur said, turning to stare at the diagnostic screen. "I believe that is what the murderer did: he remotely replicated a murder weapon, and at the same time used the keyed replictor signal to beam over and murder Eraun. He then used the same method to get rid of the murder weapon and exit Eraun's quarters. That is why no forced entry was ever found-- there was none."

Despite himself, Brax found himself staring up at Vorak'Utaur. Up until now, the Jem'Hadar had struck him as just a dumb, slightly fanatical slab of muscle. This was the first time Vorak'Utaur had shown signs of a working brain.

Noticing Brax's stare, Vorak'Utaur turned and gave him a gesture that might have been a shrug. "It is what I would have done."

There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "Umm...yeah..." Brax scratched absent-mindedly behind his ear. "There's still one problem. If our perp had actually beamed into Eraun's quarters, he or she would still have set off one of the sensor lines the DS9 crew set up for security."

"Not necessarily," Vorak'Utaur said. "Eraun might have disabled those sensor lines so that he could arrange for a private meeting with someone on the station."

Brax blinked in surprise. "You think he would have done that?"

"It would not surprise me," Vorak'Utaur replied. "The Vorta often attempt to bypass local security measures if it suits their needs in some way."

And just like that, another new factor in the case popped into being. Brax hadn't expected Vorak'Utaur to suddenly start volunteering information like that-- he was beginning to think that the Jem'Hadar knew more than he was letting on. "In that case, do you have any idea who Eraun might have been meeting with, or hoping to meet with?"

Vorak'Utaur's scaled face assumed its usualy stony impassiveness. "That information is classified."

Brax gave an annoyed groan. "Of course it is," he grumbled, before tapping his comm badge. "Brax to Team Alpha."

"Team Alpha here," came the response.

"Vasquez, I want you to examine the replicator system with a fine tooth comb," he ordered. "Bring in Chief Th'zarel or one of the engineers from the other ships if you have to. We believe the replicator may have been used to create a murder weapon, and might have also been synchronized to a transporter system. Also, get Lieutenant Sann to help you run a full particle sweep of the room for any transporter traces."

"Aye sir." And with that, the channel closed. Vasquez was competent enough to run a CSI on Eraun's quarters in Brax's absence, he knew, which gave him all the time and space he needed to start digging for clues elsewhere.

Vorak'Utaur glanced back at Algav. "How could someone have done this remotely?" he asked. "Would they have needed access to Engineering?"

Algav shook his head. "No," he said, "and that's the problem. There are literally hundreds of areas on the station where a skilled enough hacker could have remotely accessed Eraun's replicator."

"Maybe," Brax said, "but I'll bet you ten bars of gold-pressed latinum that there are only a handful of really skilled hackers on the station, and that someone knows all of their names." His instincts were telling him where to go now, and he could smell an opportunity brewing. Opportunity plus instinct equals profit, or so the Seventh Rule of Acquisition went.

"Come on, Third," he said, heading for the doorway. "This investigation is making me pretty thirsty. Let's go get a drink."

He relished the look of confusion on Vorak'Utaur's face. "I do not see how ingesting liquids is relevant to the investigation."

"Oh it is, believe me, it is."

knightraider6

For some reason I'm getting this 70s buddy cop show vibe. "He's a nosy Ferengi with lobes for trouble! His partner is an Alien War Machine! They fight crime! This fall, it's Brax and Vorak'Utaur!"

Very good stuff, looking forward to more. :cool:

worffan101

Vorak'Utaur is very cool. I love his attitude and his thought processes.

Do continue!

sander233

knightraider6 wrote: »

For some reason I'm getting this 70s buddy cop show vibe. "He's a nosy Ferengi with lobes for trouble! His partner is an Alien War Machine! They fight crime! This fall, it's Brax and Vorak'Utaur!"

All that's missing is Brax's unreasonably expensive sports car and Captain Nair's perpetually furious mood. Oh, and of course, moustaches. Everyone needs a moustache. And shades. :cool:

ambassadormolari

knightraider6 wrote: »

For some reason I'm getting this 70s buddy cop show vibe. "He's a nosy Ferengi with lobes for trouble! His partner is an Alien War Machine! They fight crime! This fall, it's Brax and Vorak'Utaur!"

Very good stuff, looking forward to more. :cool:

What? Preposterous, I was in no was thinking of a buddy cop show when I started making this. Absolutely not. Now I'm just going to continue listening to the Blasto episode from Mass Effect 3 for a completely unrelated reason. :P

Glad you're enjoying it so far!

worffan101 wrote: »

Vorak'Utaur is very cool. I love his attitude and his thought processes.

Do continue!

Thanks. I tried to go out of my way to make him unlike Omek'Itlan (ie completely unsympathetic in any way whatsoever). Otherwise, I always wanted to have the Dominion feature in a story, and/or revisit Deep Space Nine, so this story seemed as good an excuse as any.

sander233 wrote: »

All that's missing is Brax's unreasonably expensive sports car and Captain Nair's perpetually furious mood. Oh, and of course, moustaches. Everyone needs a moustache. And shades. :cool:

Don't forget horribly flashy and outdated outfits, and dramatic explosions.

worffan101

ambassadormolari wrote: »

Thanks. I tried to go out of my way to make him unlike Omek'Itlan (ie completely unsympathetic in any way whatsoever). Otherwise, I always wanted to have the Dominion feature in a story, and/or revisit Deep Space Nine, so this story seemed as good an excuse as any.

Huh--he didn't really come off as unsympathetic, just alien and stuck in his ways. He's a hassle, sure, but he's coming off as a decent guy who just hasn't got the experience of the universe to know any better.

You could really take his character and run with it; I am excited to see how you do so.

ambassadormolari

The rapid, musical click of the dabo table was music to Brax's ears as he stepped through the vast doorway. Quark's was just as he had remembered it, he noted, and just as busy. Probably half the station came here at any given time, to sample drinks from across the quadrant, rent out holosuites or play dabo. He felt a pang of regret at the thought of dabo. He latinum to spare today and a surefire way to rig the table, if only he weren't on duty...

It was at times like these that he sometimes regretted joining Starfleet. He didn't mind the whole "seek out new life, explore the galaxy, blah blah blah" bit, but it was a strict, regimented, and ultimately profitless lifestyle that not many other Ferengi could stand for. He sometimes wondered how other noteworthy Starfleet Ferengi, like Admirals Nog and Grunt, had managed to cope.

Vorak'Utaur stepped in beside Brax and stared with undisguised contempt at his surroundings. "I fail to see the point of this place."

Brax turned and gave the Jem'Hadar a chastening look. "The point, Third, is that people get thirsty," he said, indicating the busy bar table. "And when they get thirsty, they come here, have a few drinks, meet friends, and enjoy themselves. Seriously, don't you have any friends or people you like to socialize with?"

"Jem'Hadar do not socialize. We serve." The Third seemed to stiffen a little as though he were on a parade ground. "I do not need friends, Ferengi. I have my unit, and I have the Founders. That is enough for me."

"Right." Brax should have known that explaining the mores and values of non-clone society would be a waste of time. "Well, we don't have either of those wonderful things, so...as meagre as they are, we have to make do with friends and booze."

The Jem'Hadar turned and stared down at Brax with a look that might have been disbelief. "People enjoy poisoning their livers, vomiting and passing out?" he asked.

"Well..." Brax turned and looked again at the table. Hrm, on closer inspection, some of the patrons here were doing just that, though this thankfully meant they were buzzed to stop and stare at them. "Erm...well, what they enjoy, Third, is the freedom to be able to do just that. To be able to come here, have a drink, and just forget their troubles for a while."

Vorak'Utaur's face twisted with disgust. "It stinks of weakness," he said. He glanced back up at his surroundings. "I wonder at how your Federation even managed to resist us in the Quadrant War, if this is how your people behave."

"Yeah, we could definitely use more of the cold, iron heel of Dominion tyranny," Brax muttered under his breath. He wasn't sure if Vorak'Utaur would pick up on the sarcasm in his tone or not (or if the Jem'Hadar even knew what sarcasm was), but he put that concern at the back of his mind as he strode towards the bar counter. Behind it, the Ferengi barman in the fancy suit looked up from his ledger, and flashed him a needle-toothed grin.

"Well well well," he sneered, "funny seeing you here again, Brax! What happened, did you suddenly remember how much you love latinum, or are your Hew-mon bosses now giving you an allowance?"

"Nice to see you too, Hadron," Brax said dryly as he stepped up to the counter. Hadron was a leech, an opportunistic parasite...which, of course, made him an ideal businessman. The last time Brax was here, Hadron had been just a low-level assistant manager at Quark Enterprises' all-important DS9 location. If he was a manager now, then he had either kissed the requisite amount of TRIBBLE or had ratted out his superior's embezzlements. Standard Ferengi promotional practices, either way.

"It'll be even nicer to see your currency, Brax," Hadron replied. He paused when he noticed Vorak'Utaur looming over Brax like a shadow. "Hm, you must be moving up in the world, if you can afford a Jem'Hadar bodyguard."

Vorak'Utaur glowered down at Hadron. "I am merely assisting the Lieutenant Commander in this investigation," he said. Brax nearly jumped when the Jem'Hadar, for once, addressed him as something other than Ferengi. "If his life is endangered, then that is his problem, not the Dominion's."

Hadron visibly perked up. "Investigation? Is this about that Vorta who got himself killed?" Both Brax and Vorak'Utaur stared intently at him. "Hey, don't look at me like that. Word gets around quickly on this station."

Brax folded his hands on the table in a nonthreatening gesture. "And that's why I'm here," he said, taking a second to glance at the menu. "I'll have whatever you have on tap, Hadron, along with one for Third here."

Vorak'Utaur stiffened. "Jem'Hadar do not drink."

Brax turned and flashed the Third an annoyed look. "Not even a little?"

"If the Founders had wished for us to imbibe intoxicants and stuff ourselves with food like weakling Ferengi," Vorak'Utaur said, "they would have included that in our genetic code."

"Charming people," Hadron said dryly as he pulled out a bottle of Yridian ale and filled two glasses. "Its a wonder more people don't like them."

Vorak'Utaur turned and gave Hadron a curious look. "Strange...earlier the Lieutenant Commander and I were discussing the same thing."

That was the second Lieutenant Commander in a row. Vorak'Utaur was clearly getting soft on him. Reaching into his uniform's pockets, Brax slammed a bundle of gold-pressed latinum strips onto the counter. "We're looking for information on any...legitimate computer technicians you know about," he said. "Particularly ones who might have been busy these past two days."

Hadron pursed his lips thoughtfully, then stared down at the bundle on his counter. "Ten bars, Brax? Really? You can do better than that."

Brax felt the familiar, eager itch in his lobes. It had been far too long since he'd last haggled with someone. "Alright, how much would you say your information is worth, then?"

Hadron shrugged. "Depends on how much you value it," he said. "If it has anything to do with your investigation, I'd say...fifty bars?"

"Fifty bars? That's ludicrous and you know it," Brax countered. "I know for a fact that both Mo'Neke and Pag will sell information for ten bars each. You're in no position to lead the market."

"Mo'Neke and Pag don't have my client base or resources," Hadron replied. "Plus, this is a very important case. Fifty bars, no lower."

"Twenty, then, and I'll throw in an identifier chit for Federation entertainment provisions."

"Do I look like I need more entertainment provisions? Fifty."

"Twenty, plus a subtle word or two on my part to DS9 security to overlook one or two things."

"We both know you don't have that kind of influence, Brax. Fifty."

Before Brax could make another offer, Vorak'Utaur's glove fist slammed down on the counter, knocking over several glasses. "Tell us what you know, Ferengi," he said with a tone that could make beer freeze, "or I will rip your ears off."

A brief look of fear shone in Hadron's eyes, before he shook his head. "Oh no you don't!" he exclaimed. "I'm legally registered with the Ferengi Trade Mission, which effectively gives me ambassadorial status on this station. You so much as touch me, greyface, and I'll make sure you end up taking the White through a straw for the rest of your short life!"

Technically, that was true. Quark's was not only a historically significant bar, after all, it was also the Ferengi Alliance's official embassy to Bajor. Brax raised a hand in front of Vorak'Utaur. "Easy, Third," he said, "I've got this." Vorak'Utaur said nothing, but thankfully backed away, although the look he was giving Hadron was the stuff of nightmares.

Hadron, on the other hand, didn't seemed ruffled in the slightest. Instead, he flashed Brax a big smile. "Oh, you've got nothing, Brax," he sneered. "You see, your currency is no good here. I happen to know that you still owe money to DaiMon Krang over at Drozana." His smile widened. "It would be a shame if he were to learn you were here."

Brax was instantly reminded of the Forty-Eighth Rule: the bigger the smile, the sharper the knife. He smiled back at Hadron-- he had knives of his own. "Just as it would be a shame if you were to suddenly recieve a surprise health inspection."

The comment put Hadron off his stride. His smile immediately disappeared. "What?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention? As leading investigator here, I effectively have DS9's security team under my command, which gives me the temporary authority to monitor health and safety on this station."

Hadron went quiet. One of the worst things you could do was threaten a Ferengi's business with outside regulation. "You wouldn't dare," he hissed.

In response, Brax straightened up and ran a finger along the counter. "Hmm, this counter is far too dusty, people could get all sorts of respiratory problems!" he declared, loudly and theatrically, before grabbing a nearby glass. "And this glass looks like it's had gree worms nesting in it! And this floor is filthy! And...are those two humanoids over there copulating?"

More than a few customers were now staring in Brax's direction. Hadron got the hint, and hurriedly grabbed a pair of glasses. "You know what, this has clearly been a long day for you two," he said with a nervous laugh. "Here's another two drinks, on the house."

Brax raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Hadron shifted uncomfortably. "And...I know of at least a dozen or so...'professionals' on this station you could be looking for," he said. "All of them are usually doing odd jobs here and there for various clients, but I could give you their names, contact information, and tell you where they're quartered."

Now they were getting somewhere. Brax took a sip from his first glass of ale. "Jobs such as replicator modification?"

"Replicator modification?" Hadron echoed. His eyes darted back and forth for a moment, as though considering something. "Hmm...there's a Saurian who comes around here...Joreg, I think his name is. Yesterday, he was down in his cups, and he mentioned something about a replicator job he was doing for a big client. Didn't say any names, obviously, but he was boasting that he was getting a really big pay out of it."

Vorak'Utaur leaned down on the counter and glared at Hadron. "And where can we find this Joreg?"

Hadron did not reply immediately. Instead, he slowly pointed one finger over the bar counter.

Brax followed the finger to its target. There-- sitting alone in a table at the corner of the bar, sipping at a glass, was a Saurian. Brax couldn't make out many details from this distance, but he still noted the beet-red skin of the reptilian, the drab brown-and-purple coveralls he wore, and...well, Brax thought the Saurian looked bored, but his reptilian features were hard to read.

Slowly, Brax turned around, making it look like he was simply stretching a little. "Approach him slowly," he muttered to Vorak'Utaur. "Make no sudden moves, we don't want him getting jumpy. Be ready to run for the door if he tries to make a break for it."

He expected the Jem'Hadar to argue the point, but instead, Vorak'Utaur nodded in silent assent. Slowly, Brax began to walk over towards the isolated Saurian, hoping that he wouldn't notice something as commonplace as a Starfleet Ferengi and a Jem'Hadar heading in his direction.

Except, unfortunately, Joreg did notice. The Saurian glanced up, and stared at them, his big, saucer-like eyes focusing unblinkingly in their direction. Brax kept calm, and made no effort to acknowledge that stare as he maintained his leisurely pace.

And then the Saurian pulled out a pistol and fired.

Brax gave out a startled yell, and dove sideways as an emerald disruptor bolt sizzled past his head. Almost instantly, people started screaming, and the floor trembled as panicking customers began to run into each other. Instinct took over, and Brax shoved a nearby table over, diving behind it as he drew his phaser.

Vorak'Utaur wasn't dodging, however. The Jem'Hadar had drawn the polaron carbine slung across his back, and calmly snapped off several return shots. Joreg was forced to duck low as several blue-white energy bolts stitched a path across the wall behind him, leaving ugly scorch marks in their wake.

"Does that thing have a stun setting?" Brax shouted from behind his improvised cover.

Vorak'Utaur ceased firing. "No."

"Well, stop using it, then!" Brax exclaimed. He hadn't come here just so he could interrogate a smoking corpse. Peering out from the corner of the table, Brax looked to see if the Saurian had been hit at all.

He barely had time to get a good look before Joreg leaped out from behind his table, sprinting sideways in a blur. More disruptor shots flew past him, and Brax swore and returned fire. The fiery orange phaser beam scored a window mere inches from the running Saurian's head, and then Joreg was gone, sprinting through the main doorway out of sight.

Cursing inwardly, Brax stood up. "Why do they always run?" he groaned, before running off in hot pursuit.

worffan101

Excellent character work there. This is one of my top 10 favorite stories, easily.

Do continue, this is awesome.

ambassadormolari

Brax's heart pumped wildly in his chest as he ran for the exit, instinctively tapping at his communicator. "Attention all teams, we have an armed suspect running out into the main ring of the Promenade!" he shouted. "Suspect is Saurian, red skin, brown and purple jumpsuit! I want all possible exits covered! Armed suppression protocols are in effect-- shoot to stun!"

Questions were already buzzing in his lobes. How had Joreg been able to sneak a weapon into Quark's, for starters? For that matter, how involved was the Saurian in this whole affair if he had been willing to open fire on security-- and on a Jem'Hadar, no less? The questions would have to wait until after he'd captured the lizard, he knew, and he groaned inwardly at the thought. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to do any running today.

He rounded the corner of the doorwary, just in time to see Joreg dive headlong into the afternoon Promenade crowd. Great. The Saurian slammed against one of the nearest shoppers and sent him sprawling down in a heap of boxes and curses, before disapearing into the mass. Gripping his phaser tightly, Brax ran full tilt after him.

"Security!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Everyone, make way!"

To Brax's relief, the crowd started to do just that. If Joreg had been smart, he would have moved with the crowd as the surprised shoppers started to part like a wave. But the Saurian was having more difficulty blending in than Brax had suspected-- he suddenly saw him, trying to push his way past two startled Pakleds as the crowd shuffled and milled in confusion.

"Freeze!" Brax yelled, levelling his phaser with both hands. "Drop your weapon!" He hoped, against hope, that Joreg would cooperate this time-- at this range and this angle, Brax could easily hit an innocent bystander if he was forced to fire.

Joreg did the exact opposite of freezing. Spinning around in a whipcord-fast motion that only his flexible body could pull off, Joreg snapped off another shot at Brax. The Ferengi was forced to dive low, his movement carrying him into a very startled Bolian woman and knocking her over. Screams broke out amongst the crowd as the shots were fired. In a few seconds, Brax knew, there was going to be a panicking stampede.

"Sorry," Brax muttered to the Bolian woman as he pushed himself back up. A running Markalian almost bowled him over as the civvies ran in running in directions, uncertain of where the shots had come from. Through the swirl, Brax could barely make out Joreg running off into the distance, almost disappearing around a bend.

Swearing, Brax shoved and pushed his way through the crowd, trying to get free to resume his pursuit. It occured to him at that point that he had no idea where Vorak'Utaur was-- the Jem'Hadar was nowhere to be seen, and certainly wasn't following behind him. It was just as well, Brax decided-- the Jem'Hadar would probably have started firing into the crowd by this point to get them to make way.

Pushing free of the mob, Brax bounded after Joreg, seeing the thin figure of the Saurian sprinting through a cafeteria. There was a crash as Joreg slammed into a table, sending it, its contents and himself all crashing to the floor, but he picked himself up quickly and resumed his bound even as the people at the table started cursing at him. He turned briefly to snap another shot in Brax's direction. Brax could tell the aim was off, and didn't even bother dodging as the disruptor bolt whizzed past his head. He kept running, bounding over the crashed table and spilled food as Joreg turned a corner. Hmm, apparently Klingon food was still popular on the station...

At this point, Joreg was running with a slight, hopping limp-- that crash must have hurt his leg. He would have to stop at some point, or head somewhere he could hide. The habs of the outer ring would be the perfect place to lay low, Brax knew, which meant that Joreg would be heading into the turbolift to make his escape. The turbolift where, thanks to Brax's hasty APB, there would be security teams waiting for him with a nice face full of stun.

That was what Brax had been counting on, at least. Instead, he was taken by surprise when Joreg suddenly dove right and lunged through an open doorway. "Hey!" Brax shouted, raising his phaser and trying to stun the Saurian before he could get away. The Saurian was too fast, and the phaser beam simply flashed against the prefab arch of the doorway as Joreg disappeared from view.

The doorway hissed shut the moment Brax approached it. Pausing to catch his breath, Brax considered the doorway for a moment. He hadn't seen it before, during his time here on DS9-- if he remembered correctly, this had once been an Yridian shoe. He peered at the label on the door. HOLOSUITE ROOM #11, it read, ALL RIGHTS COURTESY OF QUARK ENTERPRISES LTD. Really? Was Hadron funding holosuites outside of the bar now? Given what he knew of the title deed, that couldn't be legal.

He tapped at the doorway panel, but found that it would not open. Locked. By the looks of things, there had been a program running in there when Joreg had doven in-- for all Brax knew, there might still be a relatively innocent holosuite user in there, as well as a possible hostage situation. Brax's training told him to sit tight and wait for backup, but his gut told him that he might not have that long.

Keying up his phaser's setting, Brax pointed it at the wall panel and fired. The panel erupted into a shower of sparks, and the electric feedback caused the doors to hiss open. Typical Hadron, spending the bare minimum on proper door locks. Gripping his phaser with both hands, Brax stepped through the door...

...and found himself in what could only be a battlefield of some sort. He was inside a vast stone room with wooden benches, iron tables, and a massive roaring fireplace. The room reverberated with the sound of clashing steel and battle-cries as Humans, clad in crude armour and wielding flat-edged swords, duelled with one another in a vast-swirling melee. Brax took a moment to pause and stare at the absurdity of it all. What in profit's name was this a holoprogram was? Did Humans act and dress like this once upon a time? Hadn't they ever figured out that there were more lucrative uses for iron than in crude weapon manufacturing and worthless breastplates?

He couldn't tell much about who was fighting who, or why, but it was difficult to see Joreg in the middle of this swirl. More annoyingly, there was so much background noise that his keen ears couldn't pick out any individual footfalls or sounds the Saurian might have made. And most worringly of all, he couldn't tell where the original occupant of this holosuite was. For all he knew, they might be dead already.

"Scuse me, coming through," Brax muttered as he edged his way through the melee, ignoring the holographic swords, maces and flails that swung all around him. "Coming through, pardon me...any of you fine gentlemen seen a stranger running around?"

One of the Humans suddenly paused in the battle, stepped away from his opponent, and lifted back the visor of his crude helm."Stranger?" He stared curiously at Brax. "Good sir dwarf, I have seen none here so strange as--"

The Human warrior didn't get to finish before there was a flash of green. Brax's instincts told him to dodge, which he did, just as the Human knight was obliterated a flash of dissipating light. Brax spun, and briefly saw the faint outline of Joreg standing behind him, pistol drawn...

...just before another shot glanced his shoulder. His entire side flashed with hot agony as he tumbled onto his back, yelling in wordless pain. Somewhere in the process of him getting hit and falling backwards, he'd dropped the phaser, though he heard it scatter uselessly across the stone stops. He gritted his teeth, his entire side throbbing with the dull pain of a disruptor burn as he tried to will himself to move. Around him, the holo-knights stopped their battle and scattered in alarm, staring fearfully at the Saurian and the deadly weapon he carried.

As Brax watched, Joreg approached slowly, keeping his pistol-- a black market Klingon design-- trained on him. The breath froze in Brax's lungs as Joreg levelled the pistol for a killing shot...

He was barely able to follow what happened next. One moment, there was a ripple behind Joreg, like a haze effect created by hot air. The next, Vorak'Utaur was suddenly standing behind the Saurian, wielding a long-bladed polearm with both hands. Joreg didn't even have time to turn around before the Jem'Hadar brought the haft of the polearm down on his head-- there was a dull crack, and Joreg slumped to the ground like a loose pile of rags, the pistol clattering uselessly from his hand.

Of course, Brax realized. He'd almost forgotten that Jem'Hadar had an annoying ability to turn invisible. He made the effort to sit up-- not an easy task when suffering from a disruptor burn. "Took...you long enough," he rasped.

Vorak'Utaur stepped over Joreg. There was a sudden click, and the poles of his weapon retracted, leaving only a short, bladed handle that he tucked back into his belt. "I followed as best I could, under the shroud," he replied. Almost casually, he leaned down and yanked Joreg up by the scruff of the neck. "As you suggested, I took the effort to stun him."

Personally, Brax would have preferred it if Vorak'Utaur had done that earlier, while they were still in Quark's, but he wasn't about to question his good fortune. He glanced at the ragged burn over his uniform. "I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking," he grunted.

Vorak'Utaur's brow furrowed as he looked at Brax. "You are not dead, so stop complaining," he said flatly, hoisting Joreg's limp body over his shoulder. He paused a little. "I did not expect you to chase after him the way you did, Ferengi," he added.

Brax blinked. Had Vorak'Utaur given him a compliment? No, he quickly decided, that was ludicrous. He was just getting delirous from the pain, that was all. "Sorry, I forgot I was supposed to be cowardly and conniving," he grunted as he tried propping himself up. "So, are you going to help me up, or what?"

The Jem'Hadar paused, as though considering the question. "No," he finally said. And with that, he turned and walked towards the exit, carrying the unconscious Saurian over his shoulder.

"Figures," Brax muttered. He turned and glanced at the knights, who were all staring at the scene in dumbfounded shock. "Hey, any of you guys got a hypospray?"


****


Five minutes later, DS9's security teams arrived along with a medical officer, who applied some much-needed hypos to Brax's wounded arm. As Brax was busy being treated, the team took hold of the unconscious Joreg and did a thorough sweep of the area. The original user of the holosuite was nowhere to be found-- as it turned out, Joreg had simply keyed in the previously-used program as he'd entered, hoping to hide in whatever scene was playing. The fact that there had been no one else using the holosuite came as a relief to Brax, though he idly wondered who on the station would be playing a program entitled "Preview of Book Six."

"As soon as he's conscious, let me know," Brax told one of the security personnel as he exited the holosuite, wounded arm now in a temporary cast. "I want him prepped for interrogation at the earliest opportunity. Dig up whatever background info you have on him as well-- I want to see what this guy has been up to."

The security ensign-- a Bajoran woman named Liven-- nodded. "Yes sir. We'll get the interview room prepped for you." She paused, and glaned warily at Vorak'Utaur. "Will it just be you interrogating him, or--"

"No," Vorak'Utaur cut in firmly. "I will be joining the Ferengi in the interrogation."

The Jem'Hadar's tone brooked his argument, but Brax turned around to do just that. He'd done a lot of crazy, dangerous things today, and he figured there was no harm in adding 'arguing with a Jem'Hadar' to the mix. "With all due respect Third," he said, "we've got this. There's no need for you to get involved."

Vorak'Utaur fixed Brax with an angry frown. "There is every need, Ferengi," he replied. "This is a joint investigation, so I must be present. And I will interrogate him, with or without your cooperation."

Brax bristled. "Beat him to a pulp, you mean?" he retorted. "Hurt him so badly that he'll say whatever you want, regardless of whether it's true or not? I've heard of how the Dominion treats their prisoners, Third, and it's not going to happen here." Brax took a step forwards and met Vorak'Utaur's stare. "This is a Federation station, and we do not torture or physically abuse our prisoners."

The Jem'Hadar's face seemed to stiffen at the comment. Ignoring the Starfleet personnel who surrounded him, he stepped forward so that he was now towering over Brax. "You will let me interrogate the Saurian, Ferengi," he said. "I have tolerated you up until now, but if you obstruct me, I will--"

"Dominion, go home!"

Everyone spun in the direction of the shout. There, standing across from them at the other end of the avenue, was a small band of five civilians-- odd-duty dock workers, by the looks of them, all on their lunch break. They were shouting a myriad of curses and slurs in their direction, and already, their shouting had attracted a small crowd.

"Go back to your side of the Wormhole!"

"No invaders on Deep Space Nine!"

"Down with the Dominion!"

"Jem'Hadar murderers!"

"Changeling lovers!" The heckler who had made this last shout-- a hefty Bajoran male--had been looking at Brax and the security team as he had said this. "You're doing the Dominion's dirty work for them now, aren't you, traitors?"

Brax quickly realized what was going on. These onlookers must have seen them exiting the holosuite, along with Vorak'Utaur and the unconscious Joreg, and assumed the worst-- that the Saurian had been some innocent victim fleeing Dominion persecution. He cursed inwardly. Up until now, people on the station had been reacting with fear to the sight of Vorak'Utaur, and had been trying to avoid him wherever possible. It had only been a matter of time before some of them started reacting with anger and stupidity.

Vorak'Utaur, though seemed nonplussed by the shouters. He simply turned back to Brax. "Can you not discipline your civilians better?" he asked. "This conduct is disgraceful. In the Dominion, they would have been shot for such behaviour."

Brax made no reply. The crowd was getting larger and larger, and his keen ears could pick up murmurs of agreement from within that crowd. One wrong move on his part could trigger a riot.

He took a deep breath and stepped forwards. Dealing with angry crowds was not in his job description. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly enough to be heard over the hecklers, "please step back and return to your shopping. This is an official security matter, and we have the situation under control, so if you could please--"

And then it happened. Something red and soft-- a tomato of some sort, Brax realized-- came whirling in from out of nowhere and splatted against the side of Vorak'Utaur's face, staining it a deep crimson. Alarmed, the Jem'Hadar whirled around to face the hecklers, red juice dripping from his chin. The hecklers immediately stopped shouting and began to back away. All except one, that was-- the Bajoran still standing, and still shouting. Brax guessed he was the one who had thrown the tomato.

"Down with the Dominion!" the Bajoran continued to shout. "Death to the Founders!"

The entire Promenade went silent. It was like a bomb had gone off-- the murmurs of the crowd ceased, hushed into in awestruck silence. Brax gaped, unable to believe what had just happened. Some idiot, against all reason, had just openly wished death upon Vorak'Utaur's gods to his face.

The Jem'Hadar's expression changed instantly. Up until now, his expression had been one of hard disdain and iron scorn. But now, something new and terrible blazed in his eyes: fury.

Wordlessly, Vorak'Utaur strode towards the Bajoran. His face, twisted as it was with rage and drenched in tomato juice, looked like some visage out of hell. The Bajoran stood his ground, but was now visibly quivering as Vorak'Utaur towered over him, glaring down at him with murderous intent.

"What. Did you. Say?" Vorak'Utaur forced the words out in a narrow, venomous hiss.

The Bajoran was trembling now-- although he was fairly hefty, at this close a distance it was plain to see that the Jem'Hadar could snap him like a twig. "I...I..." her stammered, visibly trying to compose himself. "I said...I said...death to the--"

Brax's fist came whistling in from the side, slamming into the Bajoran's forehead and sending him crumpling to the floor. Vorak'Utaur blinked in visible surprise as Brax strode into view, standing over the downed Bajoran and rubbing his fist before turning to face the crowd.

"Alright, show's over people!" Brax shouted. "Return to where you were! Nothing more to see here!"

Slowly, the crowd began to disperese, muttering to one another in disbelief. Brax let out a deep breath and turned to Liven. "Take him away," he said, gesturing to the downed heckler. "Throw him into the brig."

"On what charge?" Liven asked, even as she hoisted the other, stunned Bajoran to his feet and slapped some mag-cuffs on him.

Brax shrugged. "Take your pick-- attempting to incite a riot, disorderly conduct, assault. The courts could even add hate speech to the mix if this goes to trial."

By this point, Vorak'Utaur had visibly calmed down, and his stern, stony expression had returned. "Do not waste time on this scum, Ferengi," he grunted, not bothering to wipe the mess from his face. "Just execute him and be done with it."

Brax sighed, and rubbed his lobes as he turned to face Vorak'Utaur. "Firstly, that's not how we do things in the Federation..."

"Why am I not surprised," the Jem'Hadar grumbled.

"...and second, stop and think for a minute. What kind of man wishes death upon the Founders, right in front of an armed Jem'Hadar?"

Vorak'Utaur's eyes narrowed. "A fool," he replied. "Or a drunkard. Or a Klingon, and thus both."

Brax nearly jumped. Had the Jem'Hadar just made a joke? This day was full of surprises. "Right, except this guy is obviously not a Klingon," he said, gesturing to the Bajoran as he was dragged stumblingly away by security. "And he's definitely not drunk. And while he's definitely an idiot, he's no fool-- I could tell, he was terrified of you. He wanted to run away, but he didn't."

The Jem'Hadar frowned. "What are you suggesting?"

"What I'm suggesting is, someone made this guy say those things," Brax said. "Someone out there wanted you to beat this guy to a pulp, knowing that it would cause an incident. This guy would be trumpeted as an innocent victim of Dominion brutality, and our little diplomatic situation would worsen. The Federation and the Dominion would be more at each other's throats, and our investigation would be put on indefinite hold."

He glanced warily at their surroundings-- at the crowds of the Promenade, and the walkways above them. "Don't you see, Third? Eraun's killer knows we're after him, and he's trying to stall us. And if we're not careful, next time he'll try to do more than just stall us."

Unknown

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xancha

I liked the story so far. I look forward to reading more

hfmudd

Same here. Good story, and great use of/twist on the 'buddy cop' trope.

worffan101

Very nicely done. I love the Blue And Orange Morality on display with Vorak'Utaur.

Do continue!

ambassadormolari

It hadn't taken long for Joreg to come to, and had taken even less time for DS9's security to to prep an interrogation room. Joreg had remained silent ever since he had woken up, but the DS9 medical team could find no severe or permanent damage done by Vorak'Utaur. The Saurian was ruled as physically and mentally fit to be held for questioning-- a prospect that made Brax both excited and nervous, since it had been quite a while since he had last grilled a suspect.

To be fair, Brax would have been a lot more confident without Vorak'Utaur standing at the corner of the room, glowering at the prisoner. The Jem'Hadar had insisted on being here, and had made it very clear that bad things would happen if he wasn't. Despite Brax's protests, he eventually caved in when Vorak'Utaur reminded him that this was a multilateral effort, as agreed upon by their superiors. So long as Vorak'Utaur stayed at the corner of the room, Brax knew, things would be alright, but he knew that the Jem'Hadar was going to try physically interrogating Joreg sooner or later. This was all one big, unpleasant diplomatic incident waiting to happen, and Brax was stuck right in the middle of it.

Cursing under his breath, he put Vorak'Utaur out of his mind and focused on the suspect. Joreg was sitting quietly on the bench of his cell behind a force field, watching him mutely. The Saurian's big, reptilian eyes never blinked, never betrayed any emotion whatsoever-- they just stared, unceasingly, at Brax. He suppressed the urge to shudder. He now knew why Annik Okeg had been elected President at the onset of the Klingon War-- those bulging eyes couldn't betray any fear or unease in the face of invasion the Klingons, and gave the perfect poker face for negotiations and speeches.

With a theatrical stretch, Brax stepped towards the force field, using his posture and attitude to make it clear to Joreg who was in control here. "So," he said, "you want to start by telling me why you decided to start shooting at us?

Joreg remained quiet. He saw the Saurian's eyes flicker briefly in the direction of Vorak'Utaur, who remained with his arms cross at the back of the room. Was that fear, perhaps? He must still be feeling that nasty bump the Jem'Hadar had given him. Joreg's eyes quickly flicked back towards Brax, however, and kept staring.

The Saurian obviously wanted to do this the hard way, and that suited Brax fine. "I mean, I already have a few guesses," Brax went on. "You thought we were coming to take you away, that we had your number. You were guilty of something so horrible it was worth risking a shootout not to get caught. Am I guessing right here, Joreg?"

Joreg's eyes remained motionless, but a long, serpentine tongue flicked out briefly. "I have nothing to say to you, Ferengi," he said, speaking for the first time since he woke up. "And I will continue to say nothing until I have an attorney." That forked reptilian tongue flicked in and out of his mouth again. Brax was no expert on endothermic behaviour, but he knew a nervous gesture when he saw one.

Brax knew he had to be quick about this, though. Joreg's words about attorneys weren't just idle boasts-- there were probably a dozen licensed infirmary-chasers here on DS9 who would jump at a chance to represent a desperate client. In a situation like this, Joreg could easily get off the hook if his attorney played him up as a victim of Dominion brutality. Either way, once Joreg got an attorney, this interview would be over, and with it any quick way of finding out what the Saurian knew.

"Well, unfortunately, no attorneys have been forthcoming as of yet," Brax said, secretly hoping the statement remained true. He glanced down at the PADD he was carrying. "Maybe it has something to do with this little record of yours--- you're already wanted in three different systems for credit fraud, illegally hacking Federation networks, and sabotage. You also have an outstanding warrant from Sauria-- I don't know what 'egg theft' is, but it sounds pretty serious."

He paused, briefly, noting that the Saurian had seemingly become more tense. "So, while I'd love for you to have an attorney here and now, you may have quite a wait. And given how long and boring these waits can be, let's pass the time with a little conversation. What sort of job were you doing last night at 1900 hours?"

Those bulging eyes flitted a little. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hadron said you were bragging about a big job you were doing last night," Brax countered. "Knowing your line of business, maybe it was...I don't know, replicator hacking?"

That tongue flicked again. Maybe that was a sign that he'd hit a nerve? "I'm a legitimate technician," he said.

"Legitimate my lobes," Brax spat. "I have at least five credible sources saying that you've been doing illegal modication and hacking work on the station. But that's the least of your worries." He leaned closer to the force field. "Right now, you're tied to the death of Ambassador Eraun of the Dominion, either as an accomplice or a perpetrator. Have anything to say about that?"

The Saurian's gaze did not flinch, but his tongue flicked twice. "I told you, I'm not saying anything more until I have an attorney--"

"This is pointless."

The voice caused Brax to spin around. Vorak'Utaur was stepping out of the corner now, and as Brax watched, the Jem'Hadar casually reached down and picked up one of the metal chairs at the far edge of the room.

A chill ran down his spine. "Third, what are you--"

He was forced to cut his sentence short-- and duck-- as Vorak'Utaur suddenly lifted the chair over his head and threw it towards Joreg. The Saurian jumped and made a sound that was halfway between a hiss and a squark and the chair impacted against the force field, causing it to flare brightly with sharp buzz.

Rolling, Brax spun back to his feet. "Have you gone crazy?" he yelled. "What in the name of profit are you doing?"

Vorak'Utaur didn't reply. Instead, he fixed his withering glare on Joreg and began to stride towards the cell. Realizing what was going on, Brax hurried up in front of him to bar his path, earning him a look of irritation from the Jem'Hadar.

"Stand aside, Ferengi," Vorak'Utaur growled. "If you will not get answers out of him directly, I will."

"What does he mean by that?" he heard Joreg shout from behind him. As a sharp contrast to his earlier behaviour, the Saurian sounded absolutely terrified now. "What is he trying to do?"

"Third, hold on," Brax said, trying to ignore the overwhelming terror he was feeling right now. "We aren't going to get answers out him him this way--"

"We aren't getting answers out of him YOUR way, Ferengi," Vorak'Utaur cut in. "All he does is dance around your questions and answer nothing, because he does not fear you." The Jem'Hadar straightened up to his full, imposing height, and suddenly Brax was all too aware of his own fragility. "Stand aside. I have as much a right to question him as you do."

For a moment, Brax was quiet. He knew exactly what Vorak'Utaur wanted to do, and how many Federation codes of conduct it was going to violate. But he also knew half a million ways that he could use this to his advantage. An old trick used by the Ferenginar Law Enforcement Association came back to his memory-- "good liquidator, bad liquidator." It was an old trick, one that most savvy criminals had grown wise to, but in Brax's experience, it still worked if the bad liquidator really was a bad liquidator.

Slowy, Brax stepped aside. Without a further word, Vorak'Utaur stormed past him and began tapping at the force field controls.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Joreg exclaimed, huddling into the corner of his cell. "You can't let him in here! You have to protect me! I have ri--"

There was a short buzz as the field fizzled out of existence. In an instant, Vorak'Utaur had grabbed Joreg by the scruff of his throat in one hand, and effortlessly lifted him off his feet and pinned him to the wall. The Saurian made an agitated hissing sound as he squirmed, his legs kicking uselessly in the air.

"You will tell me why you TRIBBLE Eraun's replicator last night," Vorak'Utaur, in a voice like a blade on a whetstone. "You will tell me how and why you were aiding Eraun's murderer, and you will tell me the names of your associates." He exhaled deeply-- Brax could see the tube in his neck glistening as ketracel-white was pumped into him, fuelling him with adrenaline. "If you do not, then I will start...removing things from your face, beginning with your left eye."

Joreg quivered in wide-eyed horror. He must have known that this was no act-- that unlike Starfleet, the Jem'Hadar had no codes of conduct or moral qualms to hold them back. He squirmed and fixed his gaze on Brax. "D-don't just stand there!" he shrieked. "Do something! You have to protect me!"

Brax rubbed the back of one ear. "Um...look, this is a multilateral investigation, alright? Technically, since the Dominion is the injured party here, the Third does have a right to, um...question you." He idly wondered how admissable any evidence they got was going to be, given that it had been gained from a direct threat. Ambassador Sorel was probaby going to have an aneuryism if he ever heard about this.

The Saurian looked downright terrified now. "What?" he cried. "Y-you can't do this! I'm a Federation citizen!"

"Well that's questionable, given that you've been exiled from Sauria and fired on a Starfleet officer," Brax retorted. "Look, Joreg, my hands are tied here. I can call him off-- as the Starfleet half of this investigation, I can do that-- but I can only do it if you agree to cooperate with me, understand? If you don't cooperate, I can't help you!"

Joreg was quivering now. He glanced back at Vorak'Utaur, then back at Brax, and at that moment, Brax knew the Saurian had made up his mind.

"I-I didn't know my work was going to be used to kill the Vorta, okay?" he exclaimed. "The person who contracted me just gave me a huge sum of credits if I would override the Vorta's replicator controls for two minute-long intervals, that's all! I didn't know he was going to end up dead!"

That was more like it. "Third?" Brax said. "Let him go." In an instant, Vorak'Utaur released Joreg, letting the Saurian drop to the floor in a quivering ball. He didn't away, though-- he continued to stand over the Saurian, glaring down at him with that horrible death stare of his.

"Who is your contractor?" the Jem'Hadar asked.

"I don't know!" Joreg cried. "He used a false identity on the task boards-- Za..Zor...Zealot, yes that's it, Zealot! He provided me with a IEF to tag the override to, but thats it! Please, that's all I know!"

Brax nodded, mostly to himself. They had a name now. Zealot. It might have been a pseudonym, but it at least it was something they could work with. He made a mental note to have his team scour DS9's databanks for any references to the name.

For a moment, Vorak'Utaur continued to stare down at Joreg, seemingly contemplating whether to kill the Saurian or not. Then, slowly, the Jem'Hadar turned and stomped off. Quietly, Brax edged closer to Joreg, who was covering in face and making soft hissing noise that might have been the reptilian equivalent of crying.

"Look, you'd better give me that IEF signiature," Brax said. "If you don't...chances are you may end up on an asteroid prison guarded by more of him."

****

That was one interrogation down, Brax thought to himself, and one to go. Only this time, he hoped he wouldn't have to leave the suspect as a weeping, traumatized mess.

"Halo Jora," Brax read aloud from the PADD, "forty-seven, indentured worker serving with the Shadra trading guild running out of Bajor. At least five minor criminal charges for smuggling, public indecency, assault and battery, and credit fraud. Currently working off a bail debt to the Bajoran Ministy of Correction." He lowered the PADD and whistled. "You certainly don't like to stay out of jail for long, do you, Halo?"

He was answered by a snarl of static as the Bajoran on the other side of the force field banged his fist against it. "Phekk you, you big-eared Jemmie-lover!" he snarled. "Let me out of here! I've done nothing wrong!"

"Other than trying to incite a riot, you mean?" Brax passed the PADD back to Vorak'Utaur, who had been watching dispassionately. "First you're going to tell us what about that little act you pulled back there."

Halo's broad face pinched into an ugly squint, one that accentuated the ugly bruise Brax had left on his forehead. "What in the Fires are you talking about, pavrak?" he snarled. "What act?"

Brax rubbed his forhead. "Don't play dumb with me, Halo," he said. "Only a complete and utter moron would curse out a Jem'Hadar like that."

The Bajoran slammed his fist against the force field again, sending ionized static rippling outwards. "You think I'm a moron?" he snarled. "Kosst take you, grub-eater, you're the one hanging around one of the Dominion's murderers! I meant what I said! Drop this damn force field and I'll say what I said to that Jemmie's face again!"

Vorak'Utaur stiffened. Before he could step forwards, though, Brax raised an arm in front of him. "Hey, easy, Third," he warned, "I've got this." This time, thank the Divine Exchequer, the Jem'Hadar stopped. Turning back to Halo, Brax folded his arms behind his back. "Thing is, Halo, I'm not buying the whole 'righteous anger' bit of yours. You just don't seem like the sort of person who would be that furious over a Jem'Hadar walking around."

"I was here on the station when they took over!" Halo growled back. "I had to watch as they killed all the constables and imprisoned us all." He leaned closer to the edge of the force field. "The Dominion are evil TRIBBLE! They deserve to--"

"Oh, save it," Brax cut in. "You were never around when the Dominion took over. Your file indicates that you were away from DS9 when the 2800 Incident occurred, getting drunk and disorderly on Draylon II. And you're not the type to hold a grudge, either-- five of your guild's trading partners, and at least one of your drinking buddies, are Cardassians!"

The Bajoran's face drained of colour at that moment, his rage melting as he realized he'd been found out. "Well..." he mumbled, "well, um...that's...you see, I..."

Brax sighed. "Look, I'm going to make this simple for you," he said. "Tell me who put you up to this, or I'll have you sent back down to Bajor to face incarceration." He tapped his PADD again and showed Halo an image he had purchased from Hadron. "And I'll be sure to send your wife these screen-captures of you and that Orion lady you made out with at Quark's earlier this week."

Halo gaped at the image, his mouth flapping as he tried to say something in protest. When no words came, he stepped back from the force field and sat down on his bunk, looking quite deflated.

"I...I don't know who he is, okay?" he finally said. "He just contacted me on a terminal this morning, and gave me an initial payment of ten thousand energy credits, along with a promise to get rid of my legal debts." He gestured up at Vorak'Utaur. "All I had to do was provoke...him...into attacking me."

Brax perked up. It was as he suspected-- the murderer had known about the investigation, and had deliberately sent Halo to foil it. Only this murderer, whoever he was, must have been loaded if he could waste ten thousand credits on some expendable lackey. "Sounds like you'd be getting the more painful end of the deal, Halo," Brax replied. "Or did you forget the fact that Jem'Hadar are really good at hurting people?"

Halo gave an exasperated shrug. "He promised he'd pay for all medical expenses," he said, "and all of my current charges would be paid off. I figured a deal like that would be worth a few bruises and broken bones."

"Then you are a fool," Vorak'Utaur spoke up. "If the Ferengi had not intervened, I would have killed you on the spot." At this, Halo turned as white as a sheet.

"Um...you say you don't know this guy's name?" Brax spoke up. "Was he using an alias at all, like...I don't know, Zealot?"

Halo's eyes widened. "Yeah, that's what he signed off as! Zealot. How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess." Brax turned around and tapped his badge as he headed for the door. "Brax to Team Alpha: Vasquez, get our people running log sweeps and searches through DS9's data network for a user named 'Zealot.' I want all possible matches searched. Also, the Third and I are heading over to the murder site right now-- I want to see what you've all found so far."

Got it, Chief," Vasquez replied. Motioning for Vorak'Utaur, Brax turned and headed for the door.

"Hey!" Halo shouted from behind. "You're not just going to leave me in here all day, are you?"

Brax turned back briefly to Halo. "Of course not," he replied. "After the way you cursed me out like that earlier, I'm going to leave you in there for two days."

And with that, Brax turned and headed out the door, with Vorak'Utaur following close behind, even as Halo exploded into cursing behind them.

worffan101

Heh. Bad liquidator, bad liquidator. I like Brax's game.

I really can't find any problems with the story; this is reading a lot like "The Wire", in a good way, and Brax is McNulty. And I like it.

Do continue!

ambassadormolari

worffan101 wrote: »

Heh. Bad liquidator, bad liquidator. I like Brax's game.

I really can't find any problems with the story; this is reading a lot like "The Wire", in a good way, and Brax is McNulty. And I like it.

Do continue!

Heh, I like the comparison to McNulty, though Vorak'Utaur definitely is NOT Bunk. But thanks, I sort of had The Wire and Law and Order running through my head as I wrote this, along with select episodes of Babylon 5.

Will try to get the next bit done soonish, though university is being difficult right now.

worffan101

ambassadormolari wrote: »

Heh, I like the comparison to McNulty, though Vorak'Utaur definitely is NOT Bunk. But thanks, I sort of had The Wire and Law and Order running through my head as I wrote this, along with select episodes of Babylon 5.

Will try to get the next bit done soonish, though university is being difficult right now.

He's definitely Bunk by Jem'Hadar standards...

But yeah, very nicely done, no need to rush out the next chapter; quality over quantity, after all.

ambassadormolari

"This could be the end of my career, you know," Kurland muttered as he poured a glass of synthale. Turning, he offered the glass to Arkos. "It's bad enough being known as the man who let DS9 fall, but having a Dominion ambassador die on my watch is going to be the icing on the cake."

Arkos accepted the offered glass and reclined in the guest chair. "You're being too hard on yourself, James," he replied as he sipped his drink. "The 2800 Incident was beyond your control, and Command hardly roasted you for that."

"Not publicly, they didn't," Kurland replied as he poured himself a glass, before sitting back down at his desk. "But if this case isn't resolved and the Dominion delegation walks, Quinn is going to look for someone to blame. And as much as I'd hate to agree with Loriss, this station is my responsibility."

"Maybe," Arkos said as he sipped his own drink, "but as you may recall, it's my staff who have taken charge of this investigation, not yours. My lynsha are just as exposed to the tide as yours, James."

The comment made Kurland smile slightly at his fellow captain. "Assuming that Korda euphemism means what I think it means...you didn't have to do this, Arkos. Yes, the extra manpower is helpful, but you don't need to risk your career like this."

Arkos shrugged. "Well, as you said, someone had to step in and help with your manpower issues," he said, "and better me than the Klingons or Romulans." He took another sip of his synthale. "But believe me, James, you have nothing to worry about. Lieutenant Commander Brax is a highly skilled investigator, and he hasn't failed me once in the year he's been serving under me. He'll find out who the culprit is, and then we'll be able to get back to the boring task of diplomacy."

Deep Space Nine's commander gave Arkos a sombre look. "It's not your Chief of Security that I'm worried about, Arkos," he muttered. "It's the Jem'Hadar that Loriss saddled him with. You know as well as I do that letting a Jem'Hadar loose on this station is a disaster waiting to happen."

"One Jem'Hadar," Arkos corrected, "who has no doubt been instructed by his Vorta overseers not to aggravate us too much. As much as you may think otherwise, James, the Dominion probably wants to avoid further diplomatic incidents as much as we do."

Kurland gave Arkos a disgusted grimace. "And yet they sent a Vorta war criminal over as an ambassador," he replied. "I know you think I'm being bitter about this, Arkos, and I admit it, I am. But from where I'm sitting, the Dominion couldn't care less about offending us. They have absolutely no intention of helping us-- if anything, they'll probably be watching happily from the sidelines the next time the Undine attack."

"Oh, I'm not too fond of them, either," Arkos admitted. "But like it or not, we need them. And I'd hate to sound like the recording of a Basic Diplomacy lecture from the Academy, the road to peace starts with trust."

The Human's expression hardened. "My First Officer, Karen Andrews, always used to say that," he said. Before the Dominion killed her, the unspoken phrase lingered in the air. With a tired sigh, he picked up a spherical object from his desk-- a small white leather ball with red stitch marks-- and began revolve it between his fingers. "You know, I always hate being compared to Benjamin Sisko," he muttered, seemingly to himself, "but every so often, I keep wondering what he'd do in a situation like this."

Arkos wanted to say something insightful in reply, but no words came to mind. Instead, he found himself staring the ball in Kurland's hand. The lynsha ridges on either side of his skull itched-- he couldn't explain why, but something about that ball seemed familiar somehow...

He was brought back to reality by the beep of his communicator. "Security Team Alpha to Captain Nair," came Ensign Vasquez's voice.

Arkos set down his glass and immediately tapped his badge. "Nair here."

"Captain, we've made a few developments in the case that you and Captain Kurland should be happy about," Vasquez said. "Lieutenant Commander Brax has found a lead that he thinks might lead us to Eraun's killer."

Arkos glanced at Kurland, who's expression was starting to lift. "That's excellent news, Ensign," he said with a smile. "Alert me as soon as Lieutenant Commander Brax has the killer identified, or needs our support." He paused at that moment. There had been a note of apprehension in Vasquez's voice. "There isn't a problem, is there?"

"No problem, sir," Vasquez replied. "Just...an, um...irregularity."

Arkos frowned. "What sort of irregularity?"

"Not one that will have a major impact on the case, sir," Vasquez said. In the background, Arkos heard the hiss of the ready room door opening. "But it could evolve from 'irregularity' to 'major pain in the neck' if Ambassador Sorel ever hears about it."

"If I ever hear about what?" Arkos spun in the direction of the voice. Sure enough, Ambassador Sorel was standing there in the doorway, a mixed look of concern and veiled annoyance on his smoothe features.

Arkos felt the colour drain from his face. "Um..." was all he could say.

"Um..." Kurland agreed.


******

Vessel 5673, Jem'Hadar warship


"How is he?"

Netra, the ship's Yaderan medical officer, glanced up from her console as Loriss entered. "The body has finished maturing, Loriss," she said with a respectful nod. "All vital signs are running normally, and I'm detecting no microbiological irregularities or infections."

Loriss nodded, and turned to the amniotic tank that stood at the centre of the room. Through the plexiglass surface, she could see the naked form of Eraun floating in suspension, his remade body free from the mutilations that had been done to its predecessor. This was, Loriss noted to herself, the fifteenth clone that had been made for Eraun in the last three years, and yet the Founders always managed to find a use for him after each passing. Other races would have been shocked by this, but to the Vorta, it was simply the way of things: one didn't let a trivial little thing like death get in the way of one's duties.

"And what of his mind?" Loriss asked, turning back to Netra. This was, of course, the most important consideration with any cloning process: the effort of recreating the meat of the body would be worthless if the mind could not be transferred successfully.

Netra tapped at her console. "All neurological readings are coming back positive," she said. "Engrams scans are identical to those of the previous body, and all brainwave patterns are running normally." She looked up and nodded at Loriss, the motion making the needles in her hair sway slightly. "He is in there."

That was all that Loriss wanted to hear. "Wake him," she ordered.

Without a further word, Netra tapped a command into her console. There was a great whirring as the life-preserving machines of the tank hummed to life. As Loriss watched, the fluid in the tank began to drain, leaving Eraun hanging aloft on suspensor fields. Blinking lights indicated an acceleration of heart rate and neural activity, of synapses and cells springing back into life. It was like this with every reawakening, Loriss knew. For a while, there would be a period of awkardness as Eraun's mind adjusted to his new body, recollected his memories, and shook of the lethargy of death. She would have many questions to ask Eraun later, about the attack, but for now, he needed time to rest and adjust.

As Loriss watched, Eraun's fingers began to twitch. As she stepped near the tank, she saw his eyes begin to flutter as life returned to them. She smiled, and placed a hand on the glass of the tank.

"Welcome back, Eraun," she said.

Eraun's eyes finally fluttered open. His head rolled lazily as he woke up, and fixed his eyes on Loriss.

And screamed.

Loriss recoiled in horror as a high-pitched wail erupted from Eraun's lungs-- she hadn't known a person could scream so loudly. Lights began to blink rapidly as Eraun suddenly started to convulse and thrash in his tank.

"What's wrong?" Loriss demanded.

"I don't know!" Netra replied as she tapped frantically at her console. "His adrenaline levels have just spiked! Brainwave activity has just gone erratic!"

Eraun continued to spasm, his limbs slapping against the wall of the tank. His eyes focused on Loriss again, and he suddenly pressed himself against the wall, his violet wide with frenzy.

"They're hurting us!" he cried. "Hurting us, hurting us, HURTING US!"

He started screaming again, and began to punch his fists against the wall of the container. Red, wed splotches appeared on the surface as his skin broke from the contact.

"Fix him!" Loriss snapped.

"I'm applying a sedative now!" Netra cried, tapping a final sequence into her console before looking up at the tank.

Almost instantly, Eraun's thrashing stopped. A glazed look fell over his eyes as he slumped against the wall of the tank. Only the suspensor fields kept him from falling completely. Slowly, the blinking runes on the readouts steadied, indicating that Eraun's vitals and neural activity had returned to normal.

Loriss caught her breath-- for she realized at that point that she had been holding it. This shouldn't have happened. The engrammatic transferral process had been perfected to the point where it could erase the trauma of a prior death. It was supposed to be a calm, soothing process, like awakening from a deep sleep, not...this.

She turned to face Netra again, her eyes cold with fury. "I thought you said he was healthy?" she hissed. "That there were no problems?"

Netra's own eyes widened. "I...have no explanation for this, Loriss," she said, bowing her head in defeat.

"Well, find one!" Loriss snapped, before composing herself. "I want answers, Netra, and more importantly, the Founders will want answers."

Netra bowed even lower at this point. "Yes, Loriss!" she squeaked, before hurriedly returning to her console. As Netra turned to her work, Loriss took one last look at the unconscious form of Eraun in his tank, before storming out of the chamber.

This would not do, she knew. She couldn't have something as dangerous as this...regenesis-altering aberration threatening their delegation. Especially if it could expose the real reason why they were here...

gulberat

This may surprise you...but I actually like how you portrayed Kurland here. (Oh wow, I totally did not mean that little Easter Egg that just slipped out. O_O ) I tend to agree with Arkos that he's treated too harshly for that and that he's not the idiot some people assume he his. Though I haven't had a chance to portray it yet, I know that Kurland's former counterpart on 75-Tau, Lofton Grady, wasn't a fan of the armchair quarterbacking either and didn't find it realistic to blame him for the 2800 incident. And honestly, depending on what kind of intel work they did in advance, the Mirror Universe one could have been really hard to stop before the breach of station security occurred.

And then there's the Undine infiltration incident.

Ask Lofton Grady about that, now that he has been tortured and killed by an Undine, and see how that 20-20 hindsight works.

I suspect you and I may be on the same page on that.

Overall good work.

worffan101

The plot thickens!

Do continue. :cool:

marcusdkane

Very nice... A hunch is starting to form... :cool:

ambassadormolari

gulberat wrote: »

This may surprise you...but I actually like how you portrayed Kurland here. (Oh wow, I totally did not mean that little Easter Egg that just slipped out. O_O ) I tend to agree with Arkos that he's treated too harshly for that and that he's not the idiot some people assume he his. Though I haven't had a chance to portray it yet, I know that Kurland's former counterpart on 75-Tau, Lofton Grady, wasn't a fan of the armchair quarterbacking either and didn't find it realistic to blame him for the 2800 incident. And honestly, depending on what kind of intel work they did in advance, the Mirror Universe one could have been really hard to stop before the breach of station security occurred.

And then there's the Undine infiltration incident.

Ask Lofton Grady about that, now that he has been tortured and killed by an Undine, and see how that 20-20 hindsight works.

I suspect you and I may be on the same page on that.

Overall good work.

I remember poor Grady, actually. I was actually quite mad at the way LaRoca & co treated him before his untimely demise (although yes, I know that that was partly due to the Undine messing with everyone's heads). But I agree, I think most of the STO community is pretty unfair to Kurland, given that the whole 2100 episode was way beyond his ability to counter or control. Not everyone can be Ben Sisko, after all.

marcusdkane wrote: »

Very nice... A hunch is starting to form...

What, you mean you know that Brax is actually Nog's father's brother's cousin's friend's former roommate? :eek:
Er...I mean, of course you don't. Because that notion is absolutely ridiculous. :rolleyes:

worffan101 wrote: »

The plot thickens!

Do continue.

I shall!

marcusdkane

ambassadormolari wrote: »

What, you mean you know that Brax is actually Nog's father's brother's cousin's friend's former roommate? :eek:
Er...I mean, of course you don't. Because that notion is absolutely ridiculous. :rolleyes:

No :P I think I know who commited the murder and why it's a mystery ^_^

PS I doubt cousin Gaila had any friends

sander233

ambassadormolari wrote: »

I remember poor Grady, actually. I was actually quite mad at the way LaRoca & co treated him before his untimely demise (although yes, I know that that was partly due to the Undine messing with everyone's heads). But I agree, I think most of the STO community is pretty unfair to Kurland, given that the whole 2100 episode was way beyond his ability to counter or control. Not everyone can be Ben Sisko, after all.

As a test engineer, I've learned to keep Hanlon's razor handy. ("Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.") Unpleasant experience and an unhealthy natural cynicism have taught me to take it a step further: "Assume stupidity until proven otherwise." So far, I've seen nothing from Kurland to prove otherwise.

That attitude may have bled through to Jesu LaRoca's character in his dealings with the 77th Fleet staff. It was a complex situation, between the Undine making everyone loopy and ch'Harrell withholding information from his staff, but Jesu definitely acquired my tendency to walk into a room, gauge the general knowledge, assume the worst, and start shooting from the hip. He and Rusty feel pretty bad about how they treated Grady now, though.

I don't feel bad for Kurland though.

marcusdkane wrote: »

PS I doubt cousin Gaila had any friends

Arms dealers have plenty of friends. Just not many friends who are good Starfleet officers.

marcusdkane

sander233 wrote: »

Arms dealers have plenty of friends. Just not many friends who are good Starfleet officers.

That's true

ambassadormolari

Eraun's quarters, as it turned out, weren't as fancy fancy as Brax had expected. True, they weren't exactly a debtor's room either-- the bed sheets were of fine-quality silk, the furniture custom-made from smoothly-polished metals, and the architecture had a pleasingly calming effect on the eye. Give or take, Brax would have figured this room's rent to be about three thousand GPL a day back on Ferenginar. But it was completely lacking in ornamentation of any kind: Brax had heard that the Vorta had no sense of aesthetics whatsoever, but it was jarring to see a room that looked so completely and utterly barren. It was like they said back home: a man's luxuries are the window to his soul. By that standard, Eraun's soul must have been sparse indeed.

Presently, though, the room was swarming with Starfleet security staff who were busy scanning everything that wasn't nailed down. Brax spotted a few KDF and Republic personnel in the mix as well, and by the look of things, none of the three groups had started any trouble with each other yet. Next to Brax, Vorak'Utaur was engrossed in his surroundings, looking around with a scrutinizing eye. He was just as keen to look for clues as everyone else here, Brax knew, although the Jem'Hadar gave less the impression of a classic detective and more of a hunter scenting prey.

"Vasquez!" Brax called to his second in command. Almost immediately, the Hew-mon ensign walked away from the attractive Romulan officer he'd been chatting up and strode up towards. "Sir," he said with a curt nod, before glancing uneasily at Vorak'Utaur. "Um...Third."

Brax nodded back. When he wasn't chasing skirts, Emilio Vasquez was a professional when it came to security work, the exact sort of person you wanted handling a crime scene. "What have you found?" he asked.

Vasquez passed a PADD to Brax. "Our tech teams have been scouring DS9's data networks with a fine tooth comb," he said. "We were following up on the username you gave us. Sadly, we didn't get any results. It's like this guy's a ghost."

Brax looked down at the PADD and scrolled through it, before handing it back to Vasquez with a disappointed sigh. "Keep looking," he said. "There has to be at least some trace of him. Also cross-reference anything significant you can find relating to the name."

A name, Brax knew, which was worthless if it didn't lead anywhere. Despite everything, they still had no trail they could follow, no ID, no background on the killer, and above all, no motive. Could it be revenge? Someone out to repay one of the many atrocities committed during the Dominion War? As much Brax's gut instinct said yes, it didn't add up. Why kill just one Vorta? It was common knowledge that the Vorta replaced all of their losses with cloned copies of themselves-- no doubt Eraun's next version had already been grown back on the Jem'Hadar ship and was practicing his smug grin in a mirror. If Zealot had the resources to hire people like Joreg and Halo, why would he or she simply settle for killing one easily-replaced Vorta?

No, Zealot wasn't going to kill one Vorta and call it a day. He or she was either planning another kill, or Eraun's death had all been an elaborate smoke screen for something else. Either that, or the murder had been done deliberately to boil tensions between the Federation and the Dominion. There were too many possibilities, and they weren't any closer to narrowing them down.

"Is there any significance you can think of to this name?" Vorak'Utaur suddenly asked. "'Zealot?' Could the murder have been religiously motivated?"

Brax had been wondering the same thing to himself. "It's possible," he said, "but that raises the question: which religion? There are literally hundreds of different religions in the Federation alone, not to mention dozens in this sector block."

He had expected Vorak'Utaur to say something about how the absence of religion made the Dominion superior, but to his pleasant surprise, the Jem'Hadar remained focused on the case. "What of the Bajorans?" he asked. "This station houses one of their temples, and their priests have repeatedly declared the Founders to be 'evil.'"

Whoo boy. Brax did not like where this was going. "Look, Third, I'm not discounting the possibility that this crime was religiously motivated," Brax said, "but before you suggest it, no, we are no going to start uprooting the Bajoran temple and interrogating their priests based on a hunch." The least of which because it would cause a station-wide riot, Brax thought to himself.

"And yet it is not a possibility we should discount," Vorak'Utaur replied.

"Um..." Vasquez raised a hand to speak. "Maybe you should talk to the technical, science and medical experts we have on hand? I think they had something they wanted to show you."

Brax nodded to Vasquez, grateful for the distraction from the unpleasant topic. Vasquez always knew just when to steer a sensitive discussion in another direction. "You go on ahead, Third," Brax said. "I have something I need to talk to Ensign Vasquez about."

Vorak'Utaur's brow furrowed in suspicion. He didn't say anything, though-- instead, he turned and headed off towards the edge of the room, where a large number of technical staff were working around the replicator. As the Jem'Hadar walked away, Brax allowed himself an undisguised sigh of relief.

"Charming guy," Vasquez muttered dryly.

"Isn't he? Wait till you see him at Quark's," Brax replied. He gestured outwards at the room. "You find anything in here suggesting that the security systems had been relaxed? Things like sensor grids being taken offline, alarms being disabled, anything like that?"

Vasquez frowned. "Well, we have no idea what sort of security systems Eraun had set up when he moved in here," he said, "but we haven't found anything beyond what the DS9 team put in place. Why, do you think the killer knew how to get past the Dominion's security systems?"

"I don't know," Brax whispered, glancing in Vorak'Utaur's direction, "but earlier today, our Jem'Hadar friend there hinted that Eraun had disabled them himself." He noted Vasquez' look of surprise. "He said it was possible that Eraun had been expecting a guest of some sort."

"Did he say who?" Vasquez asked. "This 'guest' could be a person of interest, if he or she exists."

Brax shook his head. "No, Vorak'Utaur keeps stonewalling me when I ask," he replied. "That's what's bothering me about this whole case. The Third knows something about this whole mess, but he isn't telling me what. I'm telling you, Vasquez, I'll bet good latinum that the Dominion knows something about this murder that we don't. I just can't understand why they're keeping it a secret from us after going through all the trouble of enlisting our aid."

Vasquez nodded. "Sounds fishy, sir," he agreed. "But if you want my advice, you should head over and start talking to the techies, before the Third gets suspicious of your suspicion."

Chuckling, Brax nodded and walked up to where the techies were gathered. He expected Chief Th'zarel to be heading the effort-- Adim would have loved nothing more than to try solving a legitimate technical problem rather than whiling away his time doing diagnostics on the ship. Instead, Brax found Vorak'Utaur talking to a hulking reptiliod who stood head and shoulders over even him. A simple workman's vest and trousers with KDF markings covered the lizard's grey-green scales, and as he turned to face Brax, his fanged mouth parted in something that might have been a smile.

"Ah, so you're the officer Starfleet put in charge of this little operation," the Gorn said/hissed, setting down the PADD he'd been working on. "Lieutenant Commander Brax, right?"

"Yeah, that's me," Brax replied. He felt uneasy about this whole situation-- only a few months ago, he and this Gorn here would have been bitter enemies, shooting each other on sight. It was a strange feeling, to be at peace with the KDF after years of long war, though he figured that the Gorn felt just as uneasy.

"Lieutenant Rresh, Chief Engineer, I.K.S. Notqa'," the Gorn replied, extending his clawed hand to shake Brax's. "I've been busy taking this replicator apart for the past hour and dissecting its processor data. Which wouldn't be so bad if this shoddy, outdated Cardassian technology didn't break down every time I so much as breathed on it."

"Sounds like you've been having a worse day than me," Brax noted.

A dry, rattling sound that might have been a chuckle issued forth from the Gorn's throat. "As tough as this is, I don't envy your job, Lieutenant Commander. Having to deal with a case like this on such short notice is a tall order for anyone." At this point, the rattling became more rapid and pronounced. "Get it? Short? Tall order? Because you're a Ferengi?"

Brax's expression soured. Height jokes. How original. "So this is the infamous Gorn humour I keep hearing so much about," he quipped back. "No wonder the Klingons declared war on you."

"Tell me about it," a female voice cut in. One of the technicians by the computer terminal-- a Reman woman, wearing an engineering jumpsuit in the colours of the Romulan Republic-- paused from what she was doing to glance back at the two. "I've had to put up with his so-called humour for the last hour or so. If I have to hear one more mining-related joke, I swear, I'm causing a diplomatic incident with a hyperspanner to the skull."

The Gorn held up his foreclaws in a defensive gesture. "Hey, no need to get so angry, Zee. It was just a bit of fun." He gestured to Brax. "Besides, our Starfleet friend here took it all in stride, so no harm done, right?"

The Reman took a deep breath, her narrow nostrils flaring. "And I thought the Tal Shiar were annoying," she muttered, before extending a hand to Brax. "Ziala, Chief Engineer of the R.R.W. Aen'Temar," she introduced herself. "My people and I have been scouring DS9's data networks with the IEF you gave us. With Starfleet's permission, of course."

"Of course," Brax said as he shook her hand. Letting the Romulans run through the civilian system network would be harmless-- the worst that the Klingons could get out of this would be a few credstick codes and maybe a few hundred caches of TRIBBLE. "So, have you two found anything?"

Ziala shrugged. "I'm still searching for a map on that IEF, but Rresh here had something he wanted to share with you."

The Gorn nodded. "As I was telling your Jem'Hadar friend here, we've been backtracking all of the previous inputs into the replicator over the last two months. It was like that hairy Tellarite said in Engineering said, all of the records had been purged from the system remotely, so I had to recompile it all from scratch some hard resets, IDing individual components, and kicking it a few times." He paused when he saw the way everyone else was staring at him. "What? It usually works with Klingon technology."

"Have you found anything useful?" Vorak'Utaur asked, remaining aloof as usual.

Rresh shrugged. "I haven't been able to confirm that a transport signature was keyed to this replicator, let alone what beamed in from where. But I have been able to confirm what was replicated last." He tapped at the replicator, and a screen popped up. "By the look of things, the last order was for a fairly substantial chunk of solid ice."

Brax's brow furrowed. "Ice?" He glanced at Vorak'Utaur. "Third, is that a staple of the Vorta diet or--"

"No," Vorak'Utaur said. It was impossible to tell with his eternal frown, but the Jem'Hadar seemed perturbed. "This chunk of ice...was it in a particular shape?"

Rresh's reptilian features seemed to tighten. "As a matter of fact, yes," he said. "Just wait until you see this." He tapped the screen again, and a number of 2-D lines began to criscross, intersecting to plot out a distinct, triangular shape.

Wait, no, Brax realized, that wasn't a simple triangle. The shape was a little more flat and blocky near the end, and he saw two flat edges jut out from vertical angles. It took Brax a few seconds to realize he was looking at a blade.

"The murder weapon," Brax breathed. "Of course. The murderer didn't use anything that would leave a trail-- instead he used Eraun's own replicator to craft the murder weapon!"

Vorak'Utaur's gaze focused on the diagnostic. "This explains why no murder weapon was never found," he said, seemingly to himself. "The composition is dense enough to break skin, puncture organs, and deliver several killing strikes...but light enough that at room temperature, it would have melted before long." He glanced down at Brax. "I suggest having your medical officials examine the floors, to see if anything from the melting water seeped into them."

Brax nodded, though something about this was still bothering him. If the murder weapon had been crafted at the replicator, then where had Eraun been at the time? If the attacker had beamed over and then spent several seconds crafting the weapon, then Eraun would have had more than enough time to summon his guards to deal with the intruder. Brax's lobes itched when he realized that there were only two real possibilities-- that the attacker had beamed in front of the replicator just as the weapon was being remotely created, or he had already been inside the room. And if it was the latter, that could only have meant that Eraun had let him inside. Zealot was Eraun's mystery guest...

"Alright," Brax muttered, "I'll have the medical teams see what they can find." Turning, he caught a flash of blue skin in the middle of the crowded room. "Speaking of whom...Doc, over here!"

The figure turned, noticing Brax for the first time, and briskly walked in his direction. "Ah, Brax, I'm glad you showed up," Dr. Velnan Choll of the U.S.S. Archimedes said. "I was just in the middle of a long procedural conversation with Dr. M'Lara of the I.K.S. Notqa'. Did you know that the Klingon Empire is far ahead of us in the field of xenopathology? You wouldn't think that of a culture that still uses blunt force trauma to anaesthetize patients, but apparently it's true. I'm going to have to get some notes from M'Lara when this is all over..."

Well at least someone was enjoying the cultural exchange. "That's nice, Doc, but we have a few new developments," Brax said.

"We have discovered that the murder weapon may have in fact been a sharpened chunk of ice," Vorak'Utaur said. "It was likely left here in the room to melt naturally."

Choll's expression brightened. "A chunk of ice? Of course, that would explain some of the diluted blood traces we found on the floor!" the Bolian exclaimed. "This is definitely an important find. I'll have my team begin scanning the floors for any possible diluted blood patterns. The fact that it was an ice blade would also leave significant forensic evidence on the body. Mr. Vorak'Utaur, if we were allowed to conduct a proper autopsy on the body, we might--"

"No," Vorak'Utaur said flatly.

"But it would only be for a few minutes, and it would help us--"

"No," the Jem'Hadar said again.

Brax sighed. "Doc, forget it, you're not going to win this one," he said. "Let's just focus on getting that spatter analysis done so that we can find Zealot and go home, okay?"

Choll turned and raised an eyebrow at Brax. "Zealot?"

"Yeah, that's the username our suspect used to hire the man who TRIBBLE the replicator," Brax said.

For a moment, Choll was quiet. "This was a username? Was it done on a terminal using Federation Standard, or phonetic descriptors?"

"Descriptors, most likely." On a station like DS9, where there were hundreds of people from hundreds of different worlds passing through each day, the official computer networks had keyed all of their written code to match actual vocal sounds. "Why do you ask?"

Choll's face darkened. "Zealot," he repeated, slowly to himself. "Brax...are you sure the name is Zealot, and not 'Zey-ihlat'?"

The question took Brax by surprise. He knew that Dr. Choll, in addition to being a fine medical officer, was also a scholar of Alpha Quadrant literature and languages. Even so, the last thing he'd expected was a differing translation to their suspect's name. "He...he might have, why?" Brax asked. "What word is that?"

"It's Cardassian," Choll said. "Hebitian, in fact, from the Way of Oralius. It has several different rough translations, but the most common one is...well, revenge."

A silence fell over the group. The silence was quickly broken, however, when one of the consoles started beeping rapidly.

"We have a match!" Ziala exclaimed triumphantly. "We've managed to trace the IEF back to a single terminal here on the station!"

Brax's heart skipped a beat. In an instant, he was running up in front of the terminal. "Which one?" he asked.

"Backtracking now," Ziala said as she tapped the console. On the screen, faint green and yellow lines snaked across a schematic of the station, winding tighter and tighter until they finally converged at a single point. Tiny letters popped up, indicating the location of the public terminal.

No wait, not a public terminal, Brax realized. A privately-owned one, with a registration number and the name of the person it had been licensed to.

That owner was still on the station.



*******

"Ah, hello Hadron," Rugan Skyl said as he stepped up to the counter, smiling pleasantly. "Do you still have those bottles of 2321 vintage kanar that you had in stock a while back?"

Hadron looked up from his ledger and glared suspiciously at the Cardassian. "I might," he replied, "or I might have sold it all to keep the Bajorans off my back. They kept threatening to boycott me over it, on account of it being made with slave labour during the Occupation."

"Ah yes, the Bajorans do complain a lot, don't they?" the elderly Cardassian sighed. "Well, in case you haven't sold it, I do have latinum to spend."

Hadron didn't reply. Instead, he wordlessly knelt down behind the counter, before standing up again and producing a slender bottle that he set on the counter. "Last one in stock," he said. "Just don't breathe a word of this to station security."

"My lips are sealed," Skyl said with a conspiratorial grin.

Nodding, Hadron produced a glass and uncorked the bottle. "So, what's the occasion, Ambassador?" he asked. "You don't often go for the luxury goods when you're on the station, so something must have you in a good mood."

"Oh, it's nothing particularly special," Skyl replied. "One of my enemies has just suffered a terrible misfortune, that's all. I thought now was as good a time as anyt to drink to his ill health."

The comment made Hadon glance up briefly at his customer. "You don't say," he said as he filled the cup. "Must be someone you really hated, then, for you to spend good latinum on rare kanar."

The elderly Cardassian chuckled. "Oh, every day that I'm alive and one of my enemies isn't is a cause for celebration, Hadron," he said, raising the glass and taking a sip. "I'm reminded of a term the Humans have...sha-denn-froyda. Happiness at the misfortune of others."

Hadron simply shrugged. "I never cared much for Hew-mon phrases," he replied.

Skyl was about to reply with a suitably witty comment, when a new voice suddenly cleared its throat behind him. "Enjoying your drink, Ambassador Skyl?" the voice asked.

Swivelling in his chair, Skyl turned to see Brax and Vorak'Utaur standing behind him. "Ah, Lieutenant Commander Brax," he said, not bothering to hide the derision from his tone. "How is the investigation going?"

"Quite well, Ambassador, quite well," Brax said with a respectful nod. "In fact, we recently found a prime suspect."

"Ah. Well, it certainly took you long enough." Dismissively, Skyl turned back to his drink. "I'm certain everyone on this station will be glad to put this grisly business behind us."

"Yes, we will," Brax said, nodding to Vorak'Utaur. Wordlessly the Jem'Hadar suddenly grabbed Skyl's wrists and hauled him off of the chair, spilling his drink across the counter in the process.

"What the--!" Skyl cried as he was dragged stumbling to his feet. "What is the meaning of this?"

His answer came as Brax slapped a pair of mag-cuffs on him. "Rugan Skyl, you are under arrest for the murder of Ambassador Eraun of the Dominion," Brax said, intoning words that were older than the Federation itself. "You have the right to remain silent--"

"Unhand me, you vat-grown barbarian!" Skyl snarled as he thrashed in Vorak'Utaur's grip.

"--anything you say or do may be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney--"

"I will not be degraded like this!" Skyl shouted, loud enough for the whole of Quark's to hear. "You will release me at ONCE!" So saying, he stomped his foot down on Brax's. Not enough to hurt, but enough for it to count as resisting arrest.

Sighing, Brax looked at Vorak'Utaur. "Third?"

Wordlessly, Vorak'Utaur clubbed his forearm down on the back of Skyl's bald head. Not hard enough to severely injure him, but enough to make the Cardassian's struggles stop as he slumped dizzily in the Jem'Hadar's grip.

"Thank you," Brax said, turning for the exit. "Come on, let's take him to the--"

"Hey!" Hadron shouted. "You can't take him away! He hasn't paid for his drink yet!"

Sighing, Brax reached into one of Skyl's elaborately-woven pockets, pulled out the ambassador's credstick, and tossed it to Hadron. Nodding, Hadron pocketed the stick and started wiping up the mess, as Brax and Vorak'Utaur escorted their new prisoner out of the premises.