Vectors (24 page)

He nodded. "Get some to Narat and start the distribution. I'll see what I can do to convince the ships outside." "I will," she said.

He cut the connection. Behind her Governo said, "Not even a thank-you." She dropped down into the chair and took a deep breath. "Not yet," she said, staring at the blank screen. "If we survive the next few hours, then he might thank us."

She glanced at the Cardassians who were getting this new version of the cure, and the Bajorans, who were walking around again, and the Ferengi, who was clapping his ears and jumping up and down, dearly gleeful that he felt better.

Governo followed her gaze. She smiled at him tiredly, and said, "I think we have all the thanks we need right here." Epilogue IT TOOK TWO WEEKS. They were smarter than he thought. His observers had reported back, saying the virus had been defeated yet again.

He was glad he was doing test cases. He had underestimated the intelligence of his foes. But he wouldn't do that again. He would be very careful next time. And, if it took a few more attempts, he would make them. He wanted to do this right. He would do this right.

And one day soon, he would succeed.

When someone said lack of pain was the best experience in the world, Quark had never understood them. But after this week, he did. His ears no longer itched and, more importantly, the pustules were gone from his ear canal. The female doctor had pronounced him well before she left-and her casual fingering of his lobes had proven that he still had ear function.

His ears were operating in another capacity now. They were reveling in the sound of a full bar. The fighting had stopped, which was too bad for the Bajorans but did ensure that Quark's black-market business would kick back up soon. Cardassians crowded the Dabo table, spending hard-earned latinum. They were drinking to wonderful excess, and a few were so happy to be alive they were splurging on expensive liquors, many of which Rom did not even know the names of.

Rom would come back to the bar, tray in hand, and mangle an order, often so badly that Quark would have to go to the table himself to clarify. But he was in too good a mood to be angry. He'd let Rom get away with his incompetence today. Tomorrow would be another story. Tomorrow, Rom and Nog had to start saving their salaries for another gold-plated ear brush, one Quark had had his eye on for a long, long time.

They would give him the funds, of course, or even better, he would never pay them and use the money for that brush. Which he would then keep locked up-and he would wear the key around his neck. He didn't want to risk cross-contamination again.

No matter what that female doctor and Kellec Ton had said. They believed that someone, or something, had actually brought the virus to the bar. They believed that the Ferengi had been infected first. Quark had begged them and even tried to bribe them to prevent them from sharing that insight with Narat, and in the end they had agreed. Kellec Ton, to Quark's surprise, negotiated the bribe: He wanted Quark to help with the Bajoran resistance on the station. In small ways. Funneling in messages or supplies, or helping someone escape Odo's eye. Quark refused, until Kellec Ton reminded him that they could easily reinfect the Ferengi-and make certain the virus didn't spread beyond Quark, Rom, and Nog.

Quark didn't believe the threat. He didn't think Kellec Ton was that sort of man (and the hu-man female's attempt to hide her laughter reinforced that) but, on the off-chance that the threat was real, Quark agreed to those terms, for a time of limited duration. He suggested a week. Kellec suggested a month. They had compromised on two weeks.

Which was good enough for Quark. It protected his bar, his livelihood, and, much as he hated to admit it, his family. For it looked like Rom and Nog weren't going anywhere soon. And that meant that Quark had to teach them to be at least mildly competent.

"Brother," Rom said. "Gul Dukat would like a vodtini twisted."

"A what?" Quark asked, turning toward his brother. "A vodtini twisted." "And what is that?" Quark asked.

"A hu-man drink, suggested by the good doctor. Apparently she said that generations of hu-mans drank it after their workday was over to relax." "A vodka martini with a twist?" Quark asked. "That's it!" Rom said.

Quark looked over his brothefts head at Gul Dukat. He was sitting at a center table, looking exhausted, but he was managing to laugh with a few of the guards. "Does he know what vodka does to Cardassians?" Quark asked. "How should I know?" Rom asked.

"Tell him that if he wants to drink it, he has to take it outside. Tell Zhim that the fumes are too much for my other patrons." Quark shook his head. "Who'd have figured the hu-man was a practical jokester"

Rom frowned. "Jokes, brother?"

Quark nodded. "Vodka and Cardassians," he said. "If they've never had it before, it turns them green."

"That doesn't seem very funny to me," Rom said, and went back to Gul Dukat's table.

Quark watched him. What he didn't want to explain to his idiot brother was that sometimes the point of practical jokes wasn't humor. Sometimes the point was to teach someone a lesson.

Apparently the lady doctor believed Gul Dukat had some lessons to learn.

How many times would she have to say good-bye to the Enterprise? Pulaski leaned back in her chair in the captain's ready room. The fish were swimming in their aquarium, and Captain Jean-Luc Picard had a clear glass on his desk filled with perfectly brewed Earl Grey tea. The faintly flowery smell of the liquid permeated the room.

Picard was standing behind his desk, looking out the portholes to the stars. The ship was heading back to Deep Space Five at full warp. Apparently someone there had a new assignment for Pulaski and wanted her to arrive on the double.

Just what she needed. More work.

Beverly Crusher sat beside her, nursing an old-fashioned cup of coffee. Pulaski was having one as well. It wasn't Cardassian or Bajoran. It was an Earth beverage, with a taste of home.

She couldn't believe she was leaving. Even when she, Ogawa, Governo, and Marvig had boarded a Cardassian transport ship she hadn't believed she was going home. The trip to the Enterprise had been very different from the trip bringing them to Terok Nor. They were being treated like royalty, each with large cabins even though they weren't staying long enough to sleep in them, and the captain was treating them to a lengthy meal filled with things Pulaski had never seen before.

It all made her feel vaguely guilty about her parting recommendation to Gul Dukat. Even Kellec had given her a funny look when she gave it.

And it all sounded so innocent: a vodka martini with a twist. But she had done so because Dukat had annoyed-no, perhaps the correct term was angered-her, with his insistence on quotas and returning the station to normal. She had overheard him ordering double shifts and punishment for any Bajoran who still claimed weakness from the illness. He had also ordered harsh measures for the prisoners who had instigated the fighting.

He was putting Terok Nor back together the old way, ignoring Kellec's contribution and refusing to see that Bajorans were people, just like Cardassians.

It had riled her temper. And so she had sweetly told Dukat of a way he could rest at the end of his day.

At least she could be sure he wouldn't get sleep for one night. Maybe more. And if she ever saw him again, she could claim ignorance of vodka's effects on Cardassians.

"Are you sure you've told us everything?" Crusher was saying, her tone sympathetic. She had been through one of these plagues too and she had said, when Pulaski got off the transporter pad, that she would be there any time Pulaski needed to talk. "You have a strange expression on your face."

Pulaski smiled just a little. She wouldn't admit to the vodka remark, not in front of Captain Picard, but she did say, "I guess I am a bit surprised by the level of hatred between the Cardassians and the Bajorans."

"I think I can understand the Bajorans' reaction," Picard said, returning to his chair. "After all, the Cardassians have been occupying their planet for some time now."

"Yes, but they worked together on Terok Nor for a brief time, and then even that fell apart." Pulaski sighed. Not even the coffee was helping her bone-deep exhaustion. "And now both sides are blaming the other for the plague. The situation has grown worse instead of better."

"I can't help but wonder if that wasn't the designer's intent," Crusher said.

"What do you mean?" Picard asked.

"Well, we can assume that this plague is related to the one we dealt with on Archaria III," Crusher said. "It almost seems like a second trial of an experiment."

Pulaski looked at her. She had had the same thoughts.

"After all, it didn't respond to the same solution, and the stakes were escalated. There were three species involved. There was a new method of delivery. And-" Crusher paused to look first at Pulaski, then Picard "-this one had the added benefit of destabilizing a precarious region. So if this second trial failed, perhaps the designer saw a benefit in worsening the Cardassian-Bajoran situation."

Picard picked up his glass cup. "Who would do such a thing?" "A monster," Pulaski said. "But why?"

"I don't know," Crusher said. "And I'm not sure I want to find out."

"Surely you want to catch this person or persons," Picard said. "I do," Crusher said, "but on my terms." "Terms?" Picard asked.

Crusher nodded. But before she could respond, Pulaski spoke. "I understand what Dr. Crusher is saying. We weren't able to track the designer from the scant information we received from our sources on Bajor, and I take it, you had no more success on Archaria III." "That's right," Picard said.

"Which means that the only way we'll be able to track this monster down..." Crusher said.

"Is if there's another plague," Pulaski said tiredly. "Let's hope that his experiment is over and he leaves us in peace." "Unpunished?" Picard asked.

Pulaski nodded. "Unless we can find him before he causes more deaths." She closed her eyes. "I don't want to see any more death."

She felt a hand on her arm. She opened her eyes to see Crusher looking at her with concern. "You really should rest before you go to your next assignment. If you want, I'll contact Starfleet Medical and ask them for a leave-"

"No." Pulaski smiled. "Work is always better for me. But if you both will excuse me, I do think I'll go to my quarters now. I hope you won't be offended if I sleep most of the way back to Deep Space Five."

"Not at all," Picard said.

"We'll wake you so that you'll have enough time to get your notes together before the briefing with Starfleet Command on Deep Space Five," Crusher said.

"No need." Pulaski stood. "They're already together. I like to finish my tasks before going to bed. I sleep better that way. Good night all."

She heard them say good night as she stepped from the ready room to the bridge. Commander Riker sat in the captain's chair, and he smiled at her as she walked past. Data said hello and Geordi, who was at the engineering station on the bridge, asked her if she was doing all right.

"I'm fine," she said, and stepped into the turbolift. What she didn't tell them was how much she'd miss them, just like she would miss Kellec. It seemed as if her life was about moving away from the people she cared about.

She sighed. If there was one thing she had learned in all her years in Starfleet, it was that every time she left one group behind, she found another-different but just as good-ahead. She knew that. But it seemed as if she would never find a group quite like this one again.

Or perhaps she was just tired. Things always seemed better after she got a little sleep. The End