Part 1 (2/2)

”What?” the Carda.s.sian said.

”Behind. The. Bar.” Quark opened his eyes. His eleven-year-old nephew Nog was watching him from the stairs, the boy's round face filled with a mixture of sadness and anger.

The Carda.s.sian got to his feet. ”You, you, and you,” he said pointing to three other Carda.s.sians. He certainly wasn't big on names. ”Get that little maggot out here.”

Quark held up his hands. ”I really don't approve of bloodshed in my bar.” ”I am not interested in blood,” the Carda.s.sian said. The three Carda.s.sian crewmen pulled Rom out from behind the bar. He was kicking, shaking his head, and apologizing all at the same time.

”Hold him there.” The Carda.s.sian pointed at the chair Quark was standing near. Quark took a few steps back, sneaking another glance at Nog.

The bar was silent except for Rom's protests. Nog mouthed, Help him, to Quark, who promptly turned away.

The Carda.s.sians did as they were bid, placing Rom on the chair. Their ale-covered leader grabbed the Saurian brandy off the tray.

”Wait! Wait!” Quark said. ”That's rare and precious and-”

The Carda.s.sian was staring at him, the stench of Romulan ale coming off him in waves. ”And?”

Quark bowed slightly so the Carda.s.sian couldn't see his expression. ”And I hope you enjoy it very much.”

”I will.” The Carda.s.sian uncorked the brandy and poured it slowly, lovingly, over Rom's head. A roar of laughter went up in the bar, and then all the other Carda.s.sians piled forward to pour their drinks on Rom.

Quark scuttled through the crowd and made it back to the relative safety behind the bar. He used a napkin to mop the ale off his s.h.i.+rt, and winced as another roar of laughter filled the place. The mixed drinks were turning purple on Rom's skull. He was spluttering, using his free hand to wipe at his nose and mouth.

”Stop them.” Somehow Nog had found his way behind the bar. If Quark had thought his brother annoying, he had been mistaken. Annoying was this kid who seemed to think he knew everything, even though he believed his father was worthy of respect.

”After all the gla.s.ses Rom has broken today,” Quark said, ”I think I owe him one.”

”You owe him one,” Nog said. ”They do not. They're making a fool of him.”

”He made a fool of himself,” Quark said, and moved to the edge of the bar.

The lone Carda.s.sian pilot still sat there, staring at his Gamzian wine. He was muttering. Quark hurried away.

Laughter again rose from the group.

”Why aren't you doing anything?” Nog asked.

”I am doing something,” Quark said. ”I'm making more drinks. Everyone will be out in a moment.” ”How can you?” Nog said. ”He's your brother.” ”Don't I know it,” Quark said. Rom was still standing on that chair. No one was holding him anymore. His head was covered with a sickly yellow liquid; his clothing was drenched; and it looked like his shoes were melting, even though they couldn't be. The drinks, even mixed together, weren't toxic enough.

But the shoes could be cheap enough.

The Carda.s.sians were standing around him, shouting and laughing each time someone poured a drink on Rom, but more and more the Carda.s.sians were noticing that they were running out of liquor. A few were already bellying up to the bar to order more. Then a few more came. And a few more.

Suddenly, he was swamped. ”Nog?”

He turned. The boy was gone. Nog was as bad as his father and as worthless, too.

Quark moved faster than he had in a long time, mixing drinks, trying to keep the drunken Carda.s.sians from tearing up his bar further. Rom would have to clean up those drinks before anyone fell. Quark didn't want to think about the damage that a falling Carda.s.sian could cause. He didn't want to think about money at all. Right now, all it would do was make him mad.

Even though he was raking it in at the moment. Maybe he should hold a ”Drench the Ferengi” contest once a month. The only catch would be that the customers would have to buy the drinks that they poured on Rom. And it would have to be on Rom. He wasn't good for anything else.

He had been that way since he was a boy. Useless. No business sense. Quark had sold Rom's birthday presents, swindled him in his school ventures, even made Rom pay a toll to get into his own room, and still Rom had not learned. Not even by example.

Not even when he was young.

Quark s.h.i.+vered. And now he was stuck with his brother. His brother and his nephew, both of whom managed to inherit Quark's father's business sense, or rather his lack of it.

The traffic at the bar was slowing down. Quark looked up. Nog was helping Rom off the chair. Rom was shaking himself like a wet dog, drenching customers on either side. Fortunately, they were still too pleased with themselves to care.

With Nog's a.s.sistance, Rom squished his way to the bar. Quark slid a pile of towels across the bar. ”Go clean up your mess,” he said to his brother.

”My mess? Brother, they a.s.saulted me and you did nothing.”

Quark set his lower' lip. He had had enough of Rom's whining. If this new relations.h.i.+p were to work-and part of him truly wished it wouldn't-then Rom would have to learn a few things.

”Nog,” Quark said. ”Clean up the spill before someone slips.”

”No,” Nog said. ”My father-”

”Nog,” Quark said with some force.

Nog glared at him, then picked up the towels and headed back to the sodden chair.

”Come back here,” Quark said to Rom.

Rom squished his way around the bar, leaving prints. A few Carda.s.sians watched, still chuckling. The rest had gone back to their drinks and their Dabo game.

When Rom made it to the side of the bar, Quark grabbed him by the ear and dragged him toward the stairs leading to the holosuites. The tables were empty, and no one was looking at them.

”Ow!” Rom said. ”What was that for?”

”For being stupid enough to dump Romulan ale on a Carda.s.sian pilot. I'm lucky you didn't dump it on Gul Dukat. He'd close us down.”

”It was a simple mistake, brother. I-”

”If I had a strip of latinum for each stupid mistake you've made since you arrived on the station, I'd be a rich man,” Quark said. He had been quiet as long as he could. ”You brought this on yourself, and you're lucky it wasn't worse.”

”Worse? Didn't you see what they did? The Visscus vodka and the Itharian mol~ turned into a fizzing powder that-”

”I saw what they did,” Quark said, lowering his voice so that Rom had to lean forward to hear. ”And if you had dumped that ale on Gul Dukat, you'd be in the brig now. Or worse.” ”Worse?”

”Worse.” Quark crossed his arms. ”I let them pick on you for your own good. Maybe you'll learn to be more careful. This is a dangerous place. You can't go around being your happy-go-lucky self. You have to watch everything you do.”

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