A Ferengi waiter in head skirt and matching apron hustled from table to table on the second deck of Deep Space Nine’s promenade, serving a complimentary beverage.
Major Kira Nerys was the Bajoran liaison to the Federation administration on the Bajoran space station. Bureaucrats insisted repeatedly: Deep Space Nine was not a Federation station, but a Bajoran station under Federation administration.
The major took a sip from the frosty glass. “Mm! Oh my, this is delicious!” she said, looking up to find her companion Odo holding his glass in a toast to the proprietor. From the bar on the floor level below, Quark shot Odo a contemptuous look.
“Odo? You don’t drink,” Kira said.
The station’s constable turned back toward the major. There was a spot of whipped cream on her nose, which Odo stopped tp adore for a moment.
“What?” she said.
“You have a dollop of cream…” Odo gestured toward his nose. The shapeshifter needed additional practice forming a humanoid nose.
Kira brushed the tip of her nose with a fingertip, and smiled. “Better?”
“Who’s to say”, he said, non-committally.
“So, why does Quark deserve your toast, and why does he look so disgruntled about it?”
“I credit Quark with making the best of an unfortunate turn of events….”
ONE DAY EARLIER
Quark burst from the kitchen of Quark’s Place, snarling behind him. “I don’t care if you have to take apart every other appliance to fix that replicator, but *fix that replicator*!”
“I’m trying, brother,!” said Rom from inside.
Quark kept moving, pushing a handtruck. From a distance, the lawman Odo sensed Quark was up to no good.
Odo tailed the Ferengi to a cargo bay, where a small transport ship had two crates waiting: one box of fine Earth chocolate, and a another containing bottles of cream from Ullian cows.
Quark scratched at paperwork, while Odo shifted first to a honeybee to zip toward the shipping containers, then to his liquid form to slip inside them.
PROMENADE
“What did you find within these crates labeled chocolate and cream, detective Odo?” Kira said.
“One contained bars of latinum. The other contained paper currency — mostly from Ferenginar, but some other planets.”
“You knew this in your liquid form,” Kira said, skeptically.
“Oh, no. In liquid form, I coated several notes of currency. Later, I re-formed them, and identified the bills from their engraving.”
“A delicate and crafty use of your shifting ability.”
“Indeed.”
“You then deduced…?”
“It was easy enough to trace the money back to a petty crook on Ferenginar. Protection schemes, numbers running, that sort of thing. Quark launders the money by paying it out in exchange for chips from his gaming tables. Quark is paid, naturally, in latinum.”
“Yet he is not in a holding cell.”
“For a penny ante operation like this, Quark may consider himself lucky. However, when he accepted delivery today, what did he find in his chocolate and cream crates?”
Kira waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Chocolate and cream.”
HOURS EARLIER
Quark opened crates, expecting to find payment in latinum, and another batch of cash to launder at the dabo tables.
He discovered chocolate and cream, as labeled, and in a second, realized that Odo had bested him again. Damn it, he’d have to cover the confiscated cash himself, wiping out several days of profitable laundering.
Quark’s eyes widened with a sudden idea. He dashed into the kitchen, where his brother Rom continued to tinker with the malfunctioning replicator.
“Rom!”
“Yes, brother?”
“When you order water from that replicator, what do you get?”
“Ice cubes, mostly."
“What if you order ice cubes?” Quark spoke to the computer. “One dozen ice cubes.”
The faulty replicator produced a pile of … slush.
Quark barked instructions to his kitchen staff. “Orin, there’s a crate of heavy cream in my office. Whip until firm. Mek, there’s also a crate of chocolate. Shave into bits. Rom, raktajino beans on the double!”
In short order, Quark was back at the bar with an announcement: “Friends and honored guests! Our newest kitchen delight is a frozen mocha raktajino! A waiter will be at your table shortly with a complimentary taste! Welcome to Quark’s Place!”
Major Kira Nerys was the Bajoran liaison to the Federation administration on the Bajoran space station. Bureaucrats insisted repeatedly: Deep Space Nine was not a Federation station, but a Bajoran station under Federation administration.
The major took a sip from the frosty glass. “Mm! Oh my, this is delicious!” she said, looking up to find her companion Odo holding his glass in a toast to the proprietor. From the bar on the floor level below, Quark shot Odo a contemptuous look.
“Odo? You don’t drink,” Kira said.
The station’s constable turned back toward the major. There was a spot of whipped cream on her nose, which Odo stopped tp adore for a moment.
“What?” she said.
“You have a dollop of cream…” Odo gestured toward his nose. The shapeshifter needed additional practice forming a humanoid nose.
Kira brushed the tip of her nose with a fingertip, and smiled. “Better?”
“Who’s to say”, he said, non-committally.
“So, why does Quark deserve your toast, and why does he look so disgruntled about it?”
“I credit Quark with making the best of an unfortunate turn of events….”
ONE DAY EARLIER
Quark burst from the kitchen of Quark’s Place, snarling behind him. “I don’t care if you have to take apart every other appliance to fix that replicator, but *fix that replicator*!”
“I’m trying, brother,!” said Rom from inside.
Quark kept moving, pushing a handtruck. From a distance, the lawman Odo sensed Quark was up to no good.
Odo tailed the Ferengi to a cargo bay, where a small transport ship had two crates waiting: one box of fine Earth chocolate, and a another containing bottles of cream from Ullian cows.
Quark scratched at paperwork, while Odo shifted first to a honeybee to zip toward the shipping containers, then to his liquid form to slip inside them.
PROMENADE
“What did you find within these crates labeled chocolate and cream, detective Odo?” Kira said.
“One contained bars of latinum. The other contained paper currency — mostly from Ferenginar, but some other planets.”
“You knew this in your liquid form,” Kira said, skeptically.
“Oh, no. In liquid form, I coated several notes of currency. Later, I re-formed them, and identified the bills from their engraving.”
“A delicate and crafty use of your shifting ability.”
“Indeed.”
“You then deduced…?”
“It was easy enough to trace the money back to a petty crook on Ferenginar. Protection schemes, numbers running, that sort of thing. Quark launders the money by paying it out in exchange for chips from his gaming tables. Quark is paid, naturally, in latinum.”
“Yet he is not in a holding cell.”
“For a penny ante operation like this, Quark may consider himself lucky. However, when he accepted delivery today, what did he find in his chocolate and cream crates?”
Kira waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Chocolate and cream.”
HOURS EARLIER
Quark opened crates, expecting to find payment in latinum, and another batch of cash to launder at the dabo tables.
He discovered chocolate and cream, as labeled, and in a second, realized that Odo had bested him again. Damn it, he’d have to cover the confiscated cash himself, wiping out several days of profitable laundering.
Quark’s eyes widened with a sudden idea. He dashed into the kitchen, where his brother Rom continued to tinker with the malfunctioning replicator.
“Rom!”
“Yes, brother?”
“When you order water from that replicator, what do you get?”
“Ice cubes, mostly."
“What if you order ice cubes?” Quark spoke to the computer. “One dozen ice cubes.”
The faulty replicator produced a pile of … slush.
Quark barked instructions to his kitchen staff. “Orin, there’s a crate of heavy cream in my office. Whip until firm. Mek, there’s also a crate of chocolate. Shave into bits. Rom, raktajino beans on the double!”
In short order, Quark was back at the bar with an announcement: “Friends and honored guests! Our newest kitchen delight is a frozen mocha raktajino! A waiter will be at your table shortly with a complimentary taste! Welcome to Quark’s Place!”
