Wrath of the Prophets Read online

  The major nodded. "Me, too."

  The two women looked at each other. Both of them were smeared with soot, except where trails of sweat had made their way down the sides of their faces.

  "This is beginning to frighten me a little," Kira said.

  "You mean that we're thinking alike." Ro frowned. "Same here."

  Then they heard a ragged voice speak up behind them, and they spun as one, bringing weapons up to bear. But all they targeted was a young Bajoran woman.

  "One of the slaves," Ro murmured.

  Kira sighed. "You can go," she said. "You're free. Get out of here, as fast and as far as your legs will take you."

  But the slave wouldn't budge. "I'm Varis Sul," she said, "and I'm going with you."

  Suddenly Kira recognized the woman. "Of course. I remember you. I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you at first."

  "I have looked better," Vanis admitted ruefully.

  Kira, by way of explanation, turned to Ro and said, "She's the tetrarch. The one from the Paqu village. The one who—"

  Ro glanced at Varis. "Who started this, yes."

  "We don't know that for sure," Kira countered.

  For some reason, she felt compelled to say something to this poor, disheveled young woman who clearly carried the weight of the world—or at least the health of the world—on her shoulders.

  "It could have been a setup. It could have—"

  "How did you get here?" Ro asked the tetrarch.

  Varis shook her head. "I asked the wrong questions of the wrong people, and was looking in the wrong direction at the wrong time."

  Kira and Ro exchanged glances.

  "I can sympathize," said the major.

  "Then sympathize with this," Varis told her. "I'm coming with you."

  Kira smiled. "No, you're not."

  The tetrarch's eyes burned with fury, and when she spoke it was with such anger her body trembled. "I will see this through," she said. "I will make up for the grief I have caused, and I will strike back at those who have injured my planet and myself. And I will do this whether you want me to or not, so you might as well want me to."

  Kira saw in Varis Sul all the fire, all the passion she had had in her own youth. The major had been traveling the length and breadth of Bajor, looking for signs of the dedication and vehemence of the old days. She had looked for them in those who had been her allies. And she had found them all wanting.

  But this girl … this young woman, who stood before them like one large clenched fist … she had it. She was, Kira felt, the incarnation of what Bajor was supposed to be.

  After finally finding what she was searching for, how could the major turn away now?

  She looked to see if Ro was entertaining similar thoughts, but the Maquis was just shaking her head. The word no was already forming on her lips.

  "All right, fine," Kira said, "but watch your back." She headed off down the street, with Varis Sul right behind her. Ro was left standing there, scratching her head. Clearly she was wondering if she was ever going to understand anything Kira Nerys did.

  "Look," Quark said, "you don't have to do this."

  But before the words had entirely left his mouth, he knew that there would be no stopping his companion. Sisko looked as determined as the Ferengi had ever seen him as he made his way along the corridor toward the gaming room.

  "But we already know Calculanthra's the source of the replicators," Quark argued. "Can't we figure out the rest when we get back?"

  The captain glanced at him. "You know we can't.

  We need to know where the damned things came from. And we need the name of the Bajoran he dealt with—the middle man who actually arranged for the replicators' delivery. Don't think for even a moment that we're leaving this place without them."

  Quark scurried ahead, turned, and blocked Sisko's path. "But we've obviously overstayed our welcome here," he insisted. "And you, with a couple of broken ribs—what good will you be against a roomful of thieves and cutthroats? Isn't it better to go home and consolidate our gains?"

  "You're talking like a Ferengi," the captain snapped, slowing down.

  "I am a Ferengi," Quark pointed out.

  "That's no excuse," Sisko said. "Now move aside."

  But the Ferengi wouldn't budge. "All right," he declared. "If you're so intent on barging in there and getting your head blown off, that's fine. Far be it from me to keep you from a good time." He held up his hands in an appeal for rational thought. "Just do me one favor. If the going gets rough, let me handle it. After all, I know how these people think."

  The captain looked at Quark for a moment, as if trying to divine his intent. Then he muttered a curse under his breath.

  "I must be delirious," the captain said, "but I'm going to trust you. Just this once. And so help me, if I see you do anything that smacks of a mercantile transaction …"

  He held up his phaser for effect, obviously ignoring the fact that the Ferengi was still in possession of one of his own. Quark nodded, a gesture meant to put Sisko's fears to rest.

  "Don't worry," he remarked. "I give you my word of honor I'll practice restraint."

  Sisko frowned. "Now I feel much better."

  "My word of honor as a businessman," Quark amended.

  The captain sighed. "If that's the best you can do … "

  "Then it's a deal," the Ferengi blurted. "Er … I mean, we're agreed."

  "We're agreed," Sisko echoed.

  "Good," Quark said, stepping aside so the captain could go by.

  Now all he had to do was figure out a way for both of them to come out of this alive. He didn't expect that to be any more difficult than, oh, say, getting a Vulcan to crack a smile.

  On the other hand, he conceded, this might be more fun.

  Sisko's first problem, as he entered the gaming den, was that he had a name—Calculanthra—but he had no idea which Orion went with the name. He addressed the problem as quickly and economically as he could.

  By shouting "Calculanthra!" out loud, as if it were a challenge—which, in effect, it was.

  Beside the captain, Quark cringed. Clearly, direct confrontation wasn't his favorite tactic.

  Everyone in the room turned his or her head to look at the human. For a moment, no one moved. No one responded to the challenge.

  Then an Orion came forward. A godawful big Orion at that.

  "I'm Calculanthra," he replied, his eyes narrowing. "And who in the name of plunder are you?"

  Sisko walked up to the Orion. Those who stood in his way got out of it. If there was a fight, they clearly didn't want any part of it.

  By that sign alone, the captain should have known he was in over his head. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. Not when there were millions of Bajoran lives at stake.

  When he was toe to toe with Calculanthra, he looked up at him. The Orion had a good six inches on him. "My name," he said, "is Benjamin Sisko—the same Benjamin Sisko you sent your thugs after. By the way, you can scrape them off the bulkheads anytime now. And before you ask, I'll tell you I'm here to find out about the replicators—the ones you smuggled into Bajor."

  Calculanthra showed him a mouthful of sharpened teeth. "I don't do business with Bajor," he answered.

  "That's a lie," the captain said evenly, "and both of us know it. Now let's not waste any more time—yours or mine. As I told you, I want to know where you got those replicators."

  The Orion laughed. "Even if I had smuggled them into Bajor, you think I'd tell you?"

  Sisko drew his phaser out of his tunic and held it to the underside of Calculanthra's jaw. "I think you might," he replied reasonably.

  But the Orion didn't back down. "Look around," he told the captain. "This room is full of my people. You think they're going to let you get away with this? Do you?"

  Sisko smiled. "Probably not. But I'll have the satisfaction of knowing I've disposed of you first." He paused. "Then again, neither one of us needs to get hurt. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know.
"

  That's when Quark insinuated himself between the captain and Calculanthra. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," he said, "there's no need for a confrontation. Surely we can settle this some other way."

  "I doubt it," the Orion replied. "I don't like having a phaser held to my face."

  With a jerk of his head, he signaled to some of his men in the room. Sisko watched them spread out to block the exits.

  "But we can settle it," the Ferengi insisted. He turned to Calculanthra. "Unless what I've heard about you is untrue."

  The Orion eyed him. "And what's that?"

  Quark shrugged. "That when it comes to gambling, you've got nerves of titanium." He stopped to think. "Or was it some other part of your anatomy?"

  "I've been known to spin the dabo wheel," Calculanthra conceded. "What about it?"

  The Ferengi rubbed his hands together. "I've been known to spin it myself. In fact, I've had quite a bit of luck today. Of course, that was a while ago. By now, my luck's probably run out."

  The Orion obviously didn't get it. "So?"

  Quark frowned. "So I'd like to take our dispute to a higher plane. Instead of beating each other senseless—instead of taking a chance that someone could get killed—I suggest we venture everything on a roll of the dabo wheel."

  The captain nodded, seeing where his partner was going with this. "If we win," he told Calculanthra, "you tell us everything we want to know. And we leave scot-free."

  The Orion seemed intrigued. "And if I win," he proposed, "the two of you become my slaves—to be sold to the highest bidder."

  Sisko wasn't in love with the idea. But before he could say anything about it, Quark clasped Calculanthra's hand. "It's a deal," he confirmed.

  The Orion sneered at him. "Good. Let's get started." He glanced meaningfully at the captain.

  Reluctantly Sisko lowered his phaser and put it away. He half-expected Calculanthra's men to pounce on him, but they didn't. Apparently, even Orions had some principles.

  "Odds," Calculanthra said.

  "Evens," the Ferengi countered.

  Of course, as even the captain knew, that was just one variation of the game. But given the circumstances, it was the one that made the most sense.

  "I'll spin," said the Orion, taking hold of the wheel.

  "Not so fast," Quark told him, putting his hand on the wheel as well.

  Calculanthra glowered at him. "In a Ferengi bar, you go first. This is Mephil Trantos. Here, I go first."

  Quark bit his lip, but he didn't argue with the logic.

  As a result, neither did the captain. He just watched the Orion send the wheel spinning merrily with a flick of his powerful wrist.

  At first, the wheel was spinning too quickly for Sisko to see more than a blur. Then, as it slowed, he saw the shiny titanium ball bouncing from one slot to the next.

  It landed in an even-numbered slot, then an odd one, then an even again. And the fates of not only the captain and Quark, but that of an entire world, rode with it.

  Odd. Even. Odd. Even.

  The wheel spun slower and slower. After a while, the titanium ball barely moved. Finally it seemed to come to rest in an odd-numbered slot. Sisko's heart sank in his chest.

  Odd meant they lost. In a matter of moments, they'd be Calculanthra's slaves—and Bajor's hopes, already slim, would be dashed altogether.

  Then, as if nudged by some kindly fate, the ball roused itself and trickled into the next berth. An even-numbered berth.

  And that's where it stayed as the wheel lost its momentum. In another few seconds, it came to a halt.

  The captain looked up at Calculanthra. "As I said," he began, "I've got some questions. About the source of the replicators. And about the Bajorans involved in bringing them planetside."

  The Orion's lip curled and his complexion darkened with anger and resentment—but he didn't protest. Instead, he ushered Sisko and Quark into a quiet corner of the gaming room.

  Then, his eyes bulging, he spat out a single word: "Ask."

  Sisko asked, all right. And he got at least one of the answers he needed—the identities of the Bajorans involved in the smuggling ring.

  But he couldn't find out where the replicators came from. Calculanthra insisted he didn't know that—that he'd bought them from a Tellarite who'd bought them from someone else, and so on down the line.

  The captain sighed. If the Orion had decided to hide something, it would've been his contacts on Bajor—and he'd given those away freely. Or if he'd been lying, he could have lied about both things just as easily. So, more than likely, Calculanthra was as ignorant about the replicators as he claimed.

  It was Quark who finally signaled an end to the conversation. "Well," he said at last, smiling at the Orion, "thank you for your time and your cooperation. I hope next time, we'll meet under more pleasant circumstances."

  He held out his hand to Calculanthra, who looked for all the world as if he were going to bite it off. "If I ever see you around this place again," the Orion growled, "I'll have you killed. No—I'll kill you with my own hands. Is that understood?"

  "Too well," the Ferengi replied.

  Sisko didn't like being threatened, but they'd already pushed their luck as far as it was likely to go. Besides, they had what they'd come for—and his side hurt like hell.

  With a parting glare, he got up and led the way out of the gaming room. Nor was Quark far behind.

  Once they were out in the corridor, the captain turned to the Ferengi. "So how did you do it?" he inquired.

  "Do what?" Quark asked.

  "Fix the dabo wheel."

  The Ferengi looked at him. "I didn't," he replied.

  Sisko was surprised. "Then how did you know we'd win?"

  "I didn't," Quark repeated.

  The captain stopped dead in his tracks. "You mean you left our fate entirely to chance?"

  "We had a fifty-fifty chance," the Ferengi explained. "Those aren't bad odds under any circumstances. Besides, I had no intention of becoming a slave of the Orions even if we lost. I was going to whip out my phaser and make a break for it."

  "Sure you were," Sisko said beneath his breath, resuming his progress down the corridor. It only took him a few strides to catch up with Quark.

  "Of course," the Ferengi assured him, "you were in my plans as well. I wasn't about to leave without you." He cleared his throat. "That is, unless I absolutely had to."

  "Hard to believe," the captain observed mockingly. "Our very own Quark. A scofflaw and a rulebreaker."

  "What's harder to believe," said the Ferengi, "is that Calculanthra took our bargain so much to heart. Usually, it's the old-fashioned Orions who frequent the gaming establishments, and they don't follow anyone's rules—even their own."

  "All the more reason to get a move on," Sisko noted. "The less time he has to change his mind, the better."

  "Good point," Quark agreed, and got his legs churning that much faster.

  In fact, with his rib injury making it hard to breathe deeply, the captain had some trouble keeping up. But then, he told himself, there's no being in the cosmos faster than a Ferengi who thinks his life may be in danger.

  CHAPTER

  12

  QUARK LEANED BACKin his seat and surveyed the Defiant's helm controls. They were well on their way back to the Bajoran system, having left Mephil Trantos and established contact with Deep Space Nine a good hour ago.

  Sisko had been less than overjoyed at having to report their mixed success, even though they'd established a key link in the smuggling ring that ran from Orion territory all the way to Bajor. But that hadn't done the Bajorans any good in the short term. Their biggest problem was still the virus.

  "You've got to admit," Quark said, glancing over his shoulder at his companion, "things could have worked out a lot worse. We got what we came for, put a crimp in Bajor's black market and—"

  "And nearly got ourselves killed in the process," the captain commented dryly from his center seat. "More than once, in fact."

/>   "I guess those ribs still smart," the Ferengi observed. He shrugged and turned back to the helm controls. "Well, I'm sure it's nothing Dr. Bashir won't be able to repair."

  Behind him, Sisko grunted. "You're all heart, Quark."

  "That's what they tell me," the Ferengi replied. He sighed. "Sure was good to get back to my old stomping grounds."

  "I'll bet," the human remarked absently.

  "Of course," Quark went on, "it would have been even better if those Pandrilite twins had been there. I was told they settled down a couple of years back and bought a theater on Culpidus. Theater in the round, I think they call it." He turned to Sisko again and winked. "If you know what I mean."

  The captain rolled his eyes and checked out something or other. Life support, the Ferengi thought, or sensors, or some such drivel. Sisko was always concerning himself with such things, even when it was clearly unnecessary.

  "You know," Quark said out loud, "I really like that Kasidy Yates. You seem a bit more relaxed when you're with her. And you really do need to relax more."

  Sisko frowned, still eyeing his monitors.

  "Have I mentioned our wedding-day special?" Quark asked. "All the food and liquid refreshment your guests can pack away, continuous entertainment imported from the farthest reaches of the galaxy, and all for a price even a Bimenion could afford?"

  "If the Bimenion's as rich as Croesus," Sisko mumbled.

  The Ferengi turned back to the helm controls. "I do believe I detect a note of sarcasm. But that's all right. Just because I'm giving you a deal I wouldn't give to my own brother—"

  "Damn!" Sisko cried.

  Even before he whirled in his seat, Quark knew he wasn't going to like what came next. "What is it?" he inquired.

  Sisko shot an angry look at him. "We're being pursued by a pack of Orion raiders. Looks like your friend Calculanthra had second thoughts about letting us leave."

  The Ferengi was out of his chair like a shot. Skidding to a halt at Sisko's side, he peered over the captain's shoulder at his monitor array.

  Sure enough, the tactical screen showed him a formation of four small ships. And from what he knew of Orion technology, they were every bit as fast as the Defiant.