The Long Night (3 page)

"I hear you going crazy is all I hear," Nog said, but he crouched beside Jake and ran a stubby finger over the dent.

"It's hollow." Jake said. To prove his point, he banged his fist on it again. The wobbly sound reverberated, then faded.

"So?" Nog said.

"So what's behind this? There should be equipment here."

Nog shrugged. "Probably a maintenance tube. Let's go. I don't want to play any more."

"You want to go work for your uncle?" Jake asked.

"It beats staring at dented metal." Nog stood. Jake understood now. Nog was still afraid he would get in trouble for throwing that ball against the bulkhead.

"Go ahead," Jake said. "I'll meet you in the rec area in two hours."

"And don't be late," Nog said, even though he was the one who was always late these days.

"I won't," Jake said. He waited until Nog had disappeared down the Promenade before rapping a final time on the bulkhead, listening as the chief had taught him to do. The wobbles and pings meant the echo was inside the bulkhead, not outside.

Jake frowned, trying to remember the schematic of the station. He still didn't have as much memorized as the chief. And Jake was glad that Nog had left. Nog had told him once that this kind of interest in machines was unbecoming. But Jake loved the engineering tasks he had learned with the chief, and he loved learning. Jake felt that each experience was going to be important, whether he became a writer, an engineer, or a Starfleet officer like his father.

Nog's view of the world was a lot more utilitarian. If he didn't have an immediate use for the information, it was worthless. Sometimes he used that as a cover for his spotty knowledge of hu-man things. But sometimes Jake believed that Nog meant it.

Jake picked up his mitt and ball and hurried back to the cabin he shared with his father. He tossed the equipment on the couch and pulled up a station schematic. It took a moment to isolate that particular bulkhead.

Then he stared at the diagram. The area behind the panel was blank, according to the diagram. Not hollow. The bulkhead should have thudded when the ball hit it.

Jake grinned. At last, something the chief hadn't found. A little mystery all Jake's own.

DAX HAD WORKED her way back into the crowded bar. She stood on the stairs leading into the holosuites. From there, she could face the dart game still going on between Julian and Chief O'Brien and still see the Caxtonian and Quark discuss the statue at the bar.

The Caxtonian had forced most of the other patrons away from the bar. He and Quark leaned together as close as possible given the Caxtonian's stench and were discussing things heatedly.

The dart game was equally heated. Julian had agreed to forfeit his bull's-eye in exchange for one of O'Brien's bull's-eyes. The chief had declined that offer, saying his bull's-eye was untainted by the wing speed of an Ardwanian. Then a heated discussion of the physics of movement followed, ended by Dax herself when she said that if the wings of an Ardwanian could affect dart trajectory, so could the breath of all the nearby observers. Knowing that Quark would not let darts in his bar without the wagers placed on the games, O'Brien had begrudgingly agreed to Dax's interpretation.

The fighting ceased, and she was able to stare at the darts while actually watching Quark and the Caxtonian. For once, the stench worked in her favor. None of the other patrons, traders all, had noticed the detail work on that statue. She hoped none of them would.

That statue sent shivers down her spine. Its existence meant that someone had found the Nibix, the legendary lost ship of the Jibetian Confederacy. Eight hundred standard years ago a revolution on Jibet had sent the ruling family, most of the crown jewels and wealth of the planet, and about a thousand of the ruling family's loyal followers into a coldsleep ship, fleeing into space in search of a new world. The ship was never seen again.

But the revolution failed shortly after the ship left. Jibetian belief said that the royal family descended directly from Jibet's gods. Suddenly the Jibetian culture found itself with a missing god and royal family. It set up a provisional council to rule until the Supreme Ruler was found, and that council had ruled now for eight hundred years.

Within a hundred years of the revolution the Jibetians had developed their own form of warp drive and began expanding into the systems around them in search of the world where the Nibix had landed. Jibetian space was an area much farther from the galaxy center than the Federation. The neighboring systems around Jibet are spread extremely far apart. But the Jibetians over the centuries still managed to hold together a rough confederation of eighty planets. Finally, one hundred standard years ago a Jibetian warp ship met a far-reaching Federation starship.

A cheer from Julian's supporters made Dax focus on the dart game. Another bull's-eye. O'Brien's face was red and not from the growing heat in the bar. If Dax were still going to have her meeting with Julian, she would call the game, but she couldn't. She had to wait for Benjamin.

He knew almost as much about the Jibetians as she did. Maybe more when it came to Jibetian and Federation relations. If the Jibetian Confederacy did join, they would add a large area of space and eighty worlds. The economic impact of such a joining would be felt throughout the sector, because many of the Jibetian worlds were very rich indeed.

Since the first meeting of the Federation and Jibetian ships, the legend of the lost ship Nibix and all its treasures had spread through space. Rumors of its discovery always sent both Federation starships and Jibetian Confederation ships speeding to the area. Recently, the Federation Council, in an effort to improve relations with the Jibetians and slow the treasure hunting, passed an edict that the Nibix, if found, would be protected under Federation law and returned in its entirety to the Jibetians.

Curzon Dax had mixed feelings about the ruling, although Jadzia Dax saw the sense of it. Curzon Dax had been on two Nibix salvage missions in the early years after the first meeting of the Jibetians. Both missions had found ghost ships but not the Nibix. Dax had studied the listed contents of the ship, all the royal family wealth packed on that one coldsleep ship. Dax knew the type of art and wealth on that ship. She knew what to look for and how to identify it and how to spot fakes.

The tiny oval design was difficult to duplicate. The faint green glow was impossible to make without Jibetian gemstones-gemstones that had been protected for centuries. Dax would have to do tests, but they would be redundant, for Starfleet records only.

She knew the statue that Quark was poking with his greedy little hands was from the Nibix.

Another cheer went up, this one from the Dabo table. Quark didn't even look up. So he recognized the statue, too. That might make things more difficult.

"Come on, Benjamin," Dax whispered.

As she spoke, Commander Benjamin Sisko strode into Quark's. His chin was up, his broad shoulders back, and his uniform was smartly pressed. His hands were loose at his sides, and his eyes had a ferocious look, even from Dax's distant perspective. He was prepared for battle.

She climbed down the stairs, keeping her gaze on Sisko. His attitude surprised her. She expected him to slip into Quark's as he usually did, manipulate things slowly, and then get what he wanted. But he was going full bore, like the commander a rumor said he would become.

Odo was the one who slipped around to the side. His ability to blend in, even when he hadn't shapeshifted, amazed Dax. He should have been so noticeable with his not-quite-distinct features, his brown uniform, his always somber expression. And yet those things somehow made him fade into the background more than most would.

Sisko sought her out. She nodded her head toward the bar. He turned in that direction, and she pushed through the crowd, hurrying to Sisko's side. She arrived at the same moment Sisko did. He stopped behind the Caxtonian, and Odo stopped alongside. Dax made her way around the bar. Caxtonians were known for having a temper when cornered, and it made no sense to take any chances. She'd be in position if he came this way.

"Gentlemen," Sisko said, his mellifluous voice rising and falling within that one word. Benjamin could have been a better con artist than either man who actually worked the trade, with that mobile face and that expressive voice. He leaned around the Caxtonian and picked up the statue with reverence. "I understand you're trying to sell this beautiful item."

His fingers rested lightly on the statue, as if he were afraid of shattering it by holding it too hard. Dax held her breath. She, who had held a thousand treasures in half a dozen lifetimes, found Sisko's delicate grip terrifying. She almost felt that if he dropped the statue, the fate of eighty worlds would change.

Quark reached for the statue, then brought his hands back. Dax moved closer to him, wincing at the Caxtonian's stench. Quark had a stronger stomach than she did, to be able to put up with that smell as long as he had.

"Well, Quark?" Odo asked in his most threatening rasp.

Quark swallowed hard, glancing first at Dax and then at Odo. "We were just talking."

The Caxtonian turned his solid smelly body away from the bar and faced Sisko. "That statue belongs to me." His voice was loud enough to carry. Conversations nearby stopped.

Quark's eyes widened with panic. He waved his hands. "It's under control. Go back to your games."

But no one went back. They were all staring at the commander and the Caxtonian, waiting for violence to erupt.

"Do something," Dax whispered to Quark.

"I can't. Caxtonians hate being crossed."

"About the audience."

Quark shrugged and wrung his hands together. He hadn't taken his gaze off the statue. Neither had the Caxtonian. Or Sisko.

If anyone else identified it, they would have a riot on their hands. So Dax decided to create one of her own.

"Drinks on the house!" she shouted. "Rom will take orders."

A huge cheer went up and extended to the farthest reaches of the bar. Immediately Rom, who had paused to watch O'Brien's shot in the dart game, was mobbed.

"You can't do that," Quark said. "I can't afford it."

"You can't afford it if they start breaking chairs to get to that statue." Dax kept her voice as low as possible and still be heard above the din.

"Good point," Quark said. But he frowned as the crowd pushed against Rom, five deep.

"You're holding my statue," the Caxtonian said again.

Sisko nodded, a small smile playing across his features. A dangerous smile. One that did not meet his eyes. Dax put a hand on her phaser.

"Your statue?" Sisko said. "Do you have a bill of sale?"

"It was in my family for generations."

"Really?" Sisko's voice was as smooth as honey. "And you've decided to sell the heirloom in Quark's?"

"I can sell wherever I want," the Caxtonian said.

"Of course you can," Sisko said.

The Caxtonian peered at Sisko, obviously mollified by Sisko's reasonable tone. "Are you interested?"

"Very," Sisko said. "I've never seen anything like this."

The crowd around Rom had grown eight deep. Rom was shouting drink orders from the center. Quark was ignoring them. The crowd was interrupting the dart game. Dax's good idea might actually start a riot if things didn't change quickly.

"It is a beauty," the Caxtonian said.

"Do you have more like it on your ship?"

The Caxtonian shook his head. "It's a one-of-a-kind."

Sisko smiled. "Then I'm sure it will show up on your cargo report, the one you gave to our security people before you docked."

"Give me that," the Caxtonian growled and reached for the statue. Sisko moved it away, and then Dax realized that his grip wasn't as delicate as it had seemed.

"I think I'll hold onto it for a while," Sisko said.

"It's mine," the Caxtonian said, and moved closer to Sisko.

"That seems to be a matter for debate," Odo said. He took the Caxtonian by the arm. "Both sides can present their arguments in my office."

"I haven't done anything wrong," the Caxtonian said loudly, trying to pull away from Odo's firm grasp.

"Oh, I think you have," Sisko said.

"The statue's on my cargo report!" The Caxtonian was shouting now, but no one seemed to notice. The group around Rom had started shoving.

"I don't care what's on your report," Sisko said. "You've violated Federation law. This item is obviously contraband. I'd say you may be in our custody for some time unless you decide to talk to us."

"I have nothing to say." The Caxtonian wrenched his arm but couldn't get free. He shoved Odo, and Odo shoved him back.

"I think you'll want to talk with us," Sisko said. "I'm sure it would be in your best interest to tell us how that heirloom managed to come into your possession."

The Caxtonian started shouting, but Sisko grabbed him by the collar.

"You'll cooperate," Sisko said. "You'll do everything I tell you or I will trace each and every item in your cargo hold back to its original owners. The Federation deals with the sale of contraband by imprisoning offenders. The Klingons punish such behavior with death. But the Cardassians have reserved a slow form of torture for such offenses, and we all know that the Cardassians have made torture into an art form."

The Caxtonian's jaw worked. He glanced at the surging crowd, then at Quark. "I don't want to talk here."

"I didn't think you did," Sisko said. "The constable will take you to his office. Dax and I will join you shortly." He nodded at Odo. "Constable."

Odo led the Caxtonian out of Quark's, keeping a firm grip on the trader the entire time. As they went out the door, the Caxtonian glanced over his shoulder at the statue, a look of longing on his filthy face.

Sisko ran his other hand over the statue. Dax knew that Sisko was also an expert on the Nibix and its contents. After a lecture at the Academy on the Nibix, the lost ship had become one of his hobbies. He and Curzon used to discuss it at length.

Sisko's fingers trembled slightly when he found the tiny oval at the base of the skirt. He swallowed, then glanced at Dax. She nodded. Once. Quark didn't see it. He was watching the growing riot.