JAKE SISKO made his way listlessly through the Promenade. There were big crowds around Quark's Place and the Replimat. He was aware that his dad didn't want him on this level of the station because of the terrorist threat, but Dad never seemed to stop and think that there was nothing else for a kid to do. Except for school. Which was over for the day. And schoolwork. Which Jake didn't feel like doing. Once he started his homework, the day might as well be over.
Nog didn't have to go to school all the time. Jake hadn't seen him since the day Garak's shop had been bombed. In fact, he was almost sure Nog was avoiding him. Remembering that particular incident made Jake uneasy, though. He was sure that Nog had been actually going to loot the shop. There were times when Jake thought his dad might be right about the Ferengi, but, Nog was the only thing like a friend he had on this whole station!
He stopped to buy a glopstick from a vendor, took a few licks, and tossed the rest into the nearest recycler. He never could make himself like that stuff. It was Nog's favorite. Actually, it had never tasted as good as that one time he and Nog had snatched the sticks and run with them.
That had been wrong, of course, as his dad had made painfully clear at the time. Jake knew it. But, it had been fun, too, in a way. Exciting. Nog sure had a way of stirring up excitement. Jake could use a little excitement. For a station full of alien diplomats, terrorists, smugglers, stowaways and Cardassian soldiers in uniform, DS9 could sure be a dull place. If you were a kid.
Thinking of Nog, he slipped through a door marked OFF-LIMITS TO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL, down a corridor, and into the freight conduit that ran behind the shops on this side of the Promenade. Nog liked to prowl these back alleys of the station in search of what he called opportunities, but which Jake's dad called trouble.
A pair of workers saw him and said, "Say, you're not supposed to be back here," but they did nothing to chase him out. Then Jake spotted a familiar short figure coming out of the back of the mineral-assay office. "Nog!" he yelled out, hoping to stop his friend.
The Ferengi boy paused and turned back to look at who was calling him, and then his neck seemed to hunch down into his shoulders. "Nog!" Jake called again. "Wait for me!"
Nog slowly turned around. He was holding a carryall that seemed heavy. "Where have you been?" Jake asked him eagerly. "I haven't seen you—anywhere! What've you been doing?"
"I've been busy. With important business. I don't have time to play."
He tried to leave, but Jake followed him. "Well, what kind of business? Is that it, there?" He looked eagerly at the carryall in Nog's hands.
Holding it tight against his chest, Nog said irritably, "It's confidential. You know, a secret."
"Well, you can tell me. I know how to keep a secret."
Nog looked dubious.
"Is it another one of your uncle's special holosuite programs? Come on, Nog!" Jake, being at a vulnerable point in his adolescence, was as eager to see another one of Quark's special sex programs as he was afraid of his father's reaction should he ever find out his son even knew about them.
"It's something else," Nog snapped. "This is my business, not Quark's!" Even though Quark had all but taken it over, ever since the night that Odo came into the gambling hall. It wasn't fair. Nog was the one who'd found Berat in the first place, he was the one who had the idea to start the repair business, he was the one who should have had the profits! Instead, he was just Quark's errand boy again. Fetching and carrying. Doing all the dirty work.
"So what's in there?" Jake asked again. "I'll bet you stole something, didn't you?"
Nog was about to protest when a Starfleet security officer materialized in the corridor ahead of them. "Hold it, you two!"
Jake froze as the officer activated her comm badge: "Security, this is Occino, I've found them." Then she turned to the boys. "Someone reported unauthorized persons in the cargo passages. Don't you boys know you're not supposed to be back here? These conduits can be dangerous, even when we don't have terrorists and whatever running around the station."
She scowled at Nog, obviously aware of the Ferengi reputation. "What's that you've got there, anyway?"
One instant Nog looked like he was about to bolt, then he clutched onto his carryall protectively, as if he didn't dare drop it to run. And Jake was seized by inspiration. "It's schoolwork," he said earnestly. "Our science project. We're supposed to be working on it together."
The security woman looked doubtful. "Aren't you Commander Sisko's son?"
"Yes, I'm Jake Sisko. We're just on our way back from school."
"Well, this is no shortcut for kids." She escorted them back to the public deck of the Promenade with the warning to go straight home and stay out of trouble.
"That was quick thinking. For a human," said Nog, visibly relieved. "Good thing it wasn't Odo."
"Well, now you can tell me what's in there," Jake insisted.
"I told you, it's private business."
"C'mon, Nog, I saved your tail just now. Doesn't that count for anything with you?"
"Maybe. If you swear to keep it a secret." Nog was well aware that humans, like Klingons, were peculiar about this business of their personal honor.
"I swear! I won't say a word!"
"Even to your father?"
Jake hesitated. "This isn't something illegal, is it?"
"Not according to Federation law," Nog declared, though he was slightly vague on exactly what constituted Federation law in this case.
"Well, all right, then. I swear. I won't tell anyone."
"On your honor?"
"I said so, didn't I?"
"All right. Come with me." The two conspirators made their way with the carryall to another access door, this one closer to Quark's Place. "Quiet," Nog warned as they slipped in the back way, although the warning seemed unnecessary.
The gambling hall was full, with an especially large crowd around the bar. Beings of two dozen different species—although no Cardassians—were loudly and cheerfully wagering away their gold and other precious assets. Lines of them were going up and down the stairs to the holosuites, the site of Jake's most guilty adolescent fantasies.
Nog led him through a narrow hall to a room that Jake thought was just a storeroom, full of crates and boxes. But at the back was another door, and another hall behind it.
Nog turned to him. "Better not say anything about your father, all right?"
Jake nodded, tingling with excitement.
Nog pressed a certain place on the wall, and the section slid aside, revealing a hidden room. "Hey, Berat. I brought some more stuff for you to fix! Priority!"
Jake stared at the man who was sitting at the table. A Cardassian!
And the Cardassian, seeing someone else with Nog, nervously reached for a phaser lying on the table close at hand. "Who's that?"
"Just my friend Jake. He won't say anything. He's sworn an oath on his personal honor."
"A human?"
"A friend of mine. His father works around the station. You know, with the diplomats."
"Diplomats? Then he knows someone who could maybe get me onto a ship?" There was sudden hope in Berat's voice.
"That's right! Maybe. Isn't that right, Jake?" Nog said pointedly.
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Maybe."
"I have to get a ship off this place," Berat said desperately, to himself as much as anyone else.
"I'm working on that. Aren't I, Jake? See? But look, right now here's the gemological analysis unit from the assay office. Harilo says it fritzed up two days ago, and now the display doesn't display. I told him I'd give it the highest priority. Can you do anything about it?"
"You tell them all they have the highest priority, Ferengi. There's only one of me, and machines like this aren't my speciality."
"I know. But you can at least take a look, can't you?"
"I can take a look," Berat said wearily, pulling the unit over to him.
The table was covered with all kinds of devices, some intact, some just heaps of parts. By now Jake was almost seething with excitement. He was just sure this Cardassian, Berat, was the deserter the whole station was looking for. Dad had really been steamed about the Swift Striker's MPs coming onto the Promenade to search for him. And Nog had been hiding him all this time, right below Quark's holosuites! He could hardly believe it. Rumor was, this Cardassian was wanted for murder!
Jake bit on his lip. Maybe he should tell Dad, after all. But he'd promised Nog not to. He'd sworn not to tell anyone. And besides, the Cardassian, despite the phaser he kept right there on the table next to him, didn't look all that much like a murderer. He looked like a Cardassian, of course. But mostly he looked tired and hungry. And nervous.
Berat looked up from the gemanalysis unit. "I can't fix this unless you can find a new chromatospectric crystal. This one is cracked along the axis. I suspect it wasn't calibrated right to begin with, or someone tried to make illicit adjustments. This kind of crystal is very sensitive."
Nog looked disappointed. "What about these jobs?" he asked, pointing at some other equipment piled at the other end of the table.
"Those two are finished. This other I may be able to have done by tomorrow. If you bring me those parts I asked for."
"It's all in here," Nog told him, handing him the carryall.
Berat spilled the contents onto the table and sorted through the miscellaneous bits and pieces. "Yes, I guess that should do."
Then he looked up at Jake. "You can get me a ship, human? Off this station?"
"Um …" Jake saw Nog's face take on a pained expression, as if he were urgently trying to tell him something. "What kind of ship?" he temporized. "And to where?"
"Anywhere! Anywhere outside Cardassian space! A freighter, I suppose. I wouldn't be dead weight! You can tell them that. I'm a qualified engineer. I might not know everything about starship drives, I mostly specialized in station operations, but I'll do anything. Maintenance, cleanup—anything."
Nog interrupted. "I told you, it's too dangerous to move right now. Gul Marak hasn't gone away, and station security is still looking for you. We were stopped by security on the way here. Weren't we, Jake?"
"Uh, yeah. We were."
"If it weren't for Jake, here, they would have found all that stuff." Nog was pulling on Jake's arm. "C'mon, time to go. I got to bring Berat his meal."
But for some reason, Jake didn't want to leave yet. Berat fascinated him. He'd never met a real Cardassian—in uniform. Only Garak, and Garak was just a tailor. You could hardly imagine him doing … all those things Cardassians were supposed to do. "Look, can't you go get it? While I wait here?"
Nog scowled, "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't think Quark would like it."
"Oh, c'mon, Nog! You said this was your business, not Quark's."
And Berat added, "Let the human stay, Ferengi. It might bring you back faster with the food for once."
With bad grace, Nog gave in, although warning, "I'll have to lock the door again. In case anyone comes down here while I'm gone."
Jake belatedly realized as the door hissed shut that he was now locked inside this room with a maybe-murderer. He felt for a moment like yelling for Nog to come back. Nervously, he glanced at the clutter on the table, the tools, the pieces of equipment. "You can fix all these things?"
Berat shrugged. "Most of them. If I have the right parts." He shook his head. "This station hasn't been well maintained."
"My father says, uh, he says the Cardassians wrecked DS-Nine on purpose when they pulled out, just to keep the Bajorans from having it. I remember, when we first got here, you could find broken stuff everywhere." Jake paused. He pulled a couple of items from his pockets. "I found these. . . ."
Berat took them, shrugged. "This is a chronometer. It would probably run if you had the right power cell. This one's a personal communicator." He pried off the access panel.
"You can fix it?"
"Possibly."
Suddenly Berat looked up from the unit and asked him desperately, "Is it true? What the Ferengi says? About the station security? I can't believe I'm trusting my life to a Ferengi."
Jake nodded, feeling guilty for hiding at least part of the truth. "They really are looking for you. I've heard Gul Marak has even put up a reward. Not that anybody from Starfleet would take it."
Berat's shoulder slumped. "So I'm trapped here." He picked up a tool and started to probe the inside of the comm unit.
Jake dared, "Um, they say you deserted from the Cardassian ship? They say you … murdered someone."
Berat's head lifted. "Killed, not murdered. He was my enemy. He meant to kill me. You have that concept in your law, human?"
"Uh, you mean self-defense? Well, yes, I suppose." Jake thought a moment. "But, if that's true, you could turn yourself in—"
"No!" Berat's hands shot out and seized hold of Jake's arms, hard. "You don't understand! I can't let them find me! I was assigned to Marak's ship so they could have me out of the way, kill me where no one would see or care. My only hope is escape! They've killed my father, two of my uncles, my brother. They won't rest until they're rid of me, too."
"Killed them? What for?"
Berat released him with a sigh. "For being on the wrong side. My family was in the previous government. My father was on the cabinet. He knew the war was costing our homeworld too much. Bajor's resources were depleted, the terrorist activity was only growing worse, the Federation was threatening to intervene—it made no sense to hold on to it any longer. He had no idea about the wormhole. No one did!
"But they made him confess to lies. They hanged him as a traitor. His brothers and son next to him. They forced me to watch. . . ."
Jake was horrified and fascinated at the same time. "They hanged them?"
Berat shuddered, remembering. "In the public square of our capital. They were strong men. It took a long time for them to die. The new government made a spectacle of the event. They didn't begin the stoning until the third day."
"Stoning? You mean … the third day after they hanged them? They were still alive?" Jake stared at the massive musculature of Berat's neck, the armored tendons, and slowly began to understand that hanging might be different for a Cardassian.
"They made me watch all that time. Then, when the stoning began … In a way, it was a relief. To have it over."
He snapped the panel back onto the communicator. "Here. This should work now."
Jake took it numbly. "Thanks."
"Just find me a ship, human. Some way out of here."
Jake nodded, feeling terrible about Nog's lie and his complicity in it. But maybe he could do something. He could try, anyway.
Behind them, the door slid open, and Nog came into the room with a tray holding a plate of drolis and a pitcher of beer. He glared suspiciously at Jake and Berat. "Here. Dinner." And to Jake, impatient, "Are you ready to go, yet? I have work to do, you know. And so does he. Some of these repairs are priority orders."
Jake stood up. "It was good to meet you," he told Berat. He would have held out his hand, but the Cardassian's bleak expression stopped him.
All he could think of to say was good-bye.