Part 7 (2/2)
He was green, like so many others had been in the last few days. Quark knew now that that was the beginning of the disease. He had been denying service to anyone who was green, but apparently the Carda.s.sian had changed shades while he was in here.
The Carda.s.sian raised a hand, looked at Rom, and toppled over backwards. His companions didn't seem to notice. Neither did the drunks at the next table.
Quark walked over. The Carda.s.sian was on his back, moaning, a hand on his stomach. The other three at his table had pa.s.sed out but they, at least, were a normal gray.
”Brother,” Rom said. ”We need to call for help.”
”Oh no we don't,” Quark said.
”But, he's-”
Quark put a hand over Rom's mouth. ”I'm going to ban you from ever speaking in this place again.”
”Bartender?” One of the Carda.s.sians at the other table said. ”You got any blood wine?”
”Yes,” Quark said, even though what he had probably wasn't any good. He just didn't want the Carda.s.sian looking at him.
”Get me shome,” the Carda.s.sian said.
”Nog!” Quark shouted. ”Blood wine?”
”What?” Nog asked.
”Blood-oh, never mind.” Quark turned to Rom and said very softly, ”Stay right here, and cover his face.”
”With what?” Rom asked, but by then Quark was already gone. He got the blood wine, and brought it back to the drunks.
”You know,” he said to them, ”you gentlemen look like you could use a free hour in a holosuite. Why don't you come with me?”
”Free?” Rom asked. ”Brother, have you lost your mind?”
”What did I say to you about talking?” Quark snapped. He helped the Carda.s.sians up, and guided them away from the sick Carda.s.sian. He was careful to keep their backs to him, by talking to them the whole way, expounding the virtues of the various programs, hoping that Nog wasn't listening too closely to some of the programs.
He got them up the stairs and into one of the suites, the door closed behind them. Then he came back down the stairs.
The Carda.s.sian's companions had well and truthfully pa.s.sed out. ”What should we do?” Rom asked. ”Take his feet,” Quark said. ”We're carrying him to the medical section?”
”Are you nuts?” Quark asked. ”That's what medical people do.” ”Then why aren't you calling them?”
”Why are you still talking?” Quark asked. ”Pick up his feet.”
Rom walked to the Carda.s.sian's booted feet. ”Can we get this disease?”
”If anyone can, you can,” Quark mumbled.
”What?” Rom asked.
”No, we can't,” Quark said.
”How do you know?”
”Because we would have had it by now.”
”They don't have it,” Rom said, looking at the three pa.s.sed out at the table.
”Ferengi don't get Carda.s.sian diseases,” Quark said, although he had no idea if that was true. ”Oh,” Rom said. ”Are you sure?” ”Positive.”
”All right, then,” Rom said, and crouched. He grabbed the Carda.s.sian's feet and lifted them.
”Nog,” Quark said. ”Keep a lookout. Let me know if you see any Carda.s.sians or Odo.”
”Odo?” Nog asked.
”The obnoxious shape-s.h.i.+fter who has been hara.s.sing me”-then Quark realized that Odo hadn't been in the bar in almost a week. ”Never mind. Just let me know if you see anyone.”
”All fight,” Nog said, and bent over the bar, continuing his polis.h.i.+ng.
”At the door, Nog,” Quark said. ”Go to the door. Like a lookout.”
”Oh,” Nog said. ”You didn't say that.”
”What do I have to do? Put it in writing?”
”That might help,” Rom said.
”Shut up.”
Nog scrambled to the door. He stood there like a small sentry, looking just like Rom had at that age. Sincere, honest, clueless. Quark sighed. He hoped Nog understood what he was looking for.
”Brother...” Rom said, still holding the Carda.s.sian's feet.
Quark nodded. He picked up the Carda.s.sian by the armpits, and nearly staggered under the weight. Who knew that Carda.s.sians were so heavy? Or that they smelled like this? Up close, the Carda.s.sian's green skin looked even more noxious. His scales were flaking. Quark's stomach, already queasy thanks to Rom's ear blister, threatened to revolt.
”I don't know how much longer my back can take this, brother,” Rom said.
Quark didn't know how much longer his stomach could take it either. ”All right,” he said, ”here goes.”
He stumbled backward, kicking a chair as he went. The Carda.s.sian's b.u.t.t dragged on the ground, his uniform leaving a polished streak mark on the dirty floor.
”Everything I do creates more work,” Quark mumbled. ”What?” Rom said. ”Nothing. Just lift him higher.” ”I can't, brother.” ”You could if you weren't holding his feet.” ”What do you suggest?” Rom asked. ”His knees?” They were halfway to the door. Quark wanted this guy out of the bar as quickly as possible. If he made Rom switch positions, quickly might not happen.
”No,” Quark said. ”Let's just keep going.”
At that moment he backed into another table. Pain ran along his spine and he bit back a curse. ”Are you all right, brother?” Rom asked.
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