least he wasn’t going to cower and bootlick, as Dukat had half expected.
“I have money,” the creature insisted. “My father left me an inheritance. It’s just a matter of getting the bank on Ferenginar to transfer the funds to a local depository so I can access it. I could rent a room from you, maybe even start a business here. You’d do well to have a savvy entrepreneur such as myself on your station.” Quark grinned, exposed his pointed teeth. “I could bring in travelers from all over the galaxy, give a bit of notoriety to this spot. Maybe you’d be able to establish better trade relationships if your station had a little more to offer. Maybe you’d be able to—”
“I don’t really like Ferengi,” Dukat said.
“Well, I suppose you’re not alone in that,” Quark said smoothly, “but I must tell you that my people have been victim to a great deal of slander and misrepresentation. We’re trying to make our way in the galaxy, just like everyone else, and we have no interest in conflict—all we want is to make a little money for ourselves. The truth is, fortune generally follows a Ferengi whenever he sets up a business venture on another world. You might be surprised to learn that on some worlds, Ferengi are considered good luck.”
Dukat stared. “Is that so?”
“Yes, it’s true,” Quark said. He hadn’t been so bold as to sit, but he leaned on one of the chairs in front of Dukat’s desk, the picture of casual arrogance. “Many people regard matters of economics to be something of a mystery, but it’s not like that to my people. Wherever we go, prosperity goes with us. A wise man might be looking for a way to share in a bit of that prosperity—”
“If you’re going to stay here,” Dukat interrupted, “I’m going to need to see the money up front. I’m not talking about credit, either. I’m not talking about a thumbscan on a padd, or a signature. I’m talking about hard currency, Mister Quark.”
“Currency, sure. I can get you that. I can do whatever you want. Just let me stay, Mister Dukat. Let me—”
“It’s Gul Dukat.”
“Gul Dukat, right. So, you’ll let me stay, won’t you?” The Ferengi had assumed a begging posture, his wrists pressed together in a strange demonstration of supplication.
“Hard currency,” Dukat repeated.
The Ferengi nodded again, his hands clasped together now in what Dukat perceived as feigned gratitude. “Would you consider working out some kind of a deal? Perhaps we could conceive of a system where you might offer some kind of a discount—reliant on my timely payment, of course—but then if I were to go into delinquency, you could charge a penalty. It would be a clever way for you to make a profit from—”
“I’m not interested in making a deal,” Dukat told the Ferengi. “I just want to see my money. By the end of the day, preferably. Otherwise, there are plenty of transports out of here with a reasonable likelihood of providing you passage on credit.”
Quark did not look happy, his bright eyes narrowing slightly, the massive ears on either side of his head seeming almost to droop. Dukat dismissed him, feeling comfortable that he would not have to see more of this Ferengi after today.
The Ferengi stopped at the door, turned to look at Dukat again. “I wonder if I might be able to interest you in something other than money. You see, the crew of my freighter left me several crates of unreplicated foodstuffs in the cargo bay—goods of the very finest quality—but I don’t know if I have the means to unload so much product without a go-between. Perhaps you’d be interested in—”
“I have no use for Ferengi fare,” Dukat said with some disgust. What the Ferengi called food, Cardassians paid good money to have exterminated.
“It’s not only Ferengi cuisine I’ve got in there,” Quark insisted. “I have contacts and suppliers all over the galaxy. I routinely purchased all kinds of foreign delicacies—anything I
“I have money,” the creature insisted. “My father left me an inheritance. It’s just a matter of getting the bank on Ferenginar to transfer the funds to a local depository so I can access it. I could rent a room from you, maybe even start a business here. You’d do well to have a savvy entrepreneur such as myself on your station.” Quark grinned, exposed his pointed teeth. “I could bring in travelers from all over the galaxy, give a bit of notoriety to this spot. Maybe you’d be able to establish better trade relationships if your station had a little more to offer. Maybe you’d be able to—”
“I don’t really like Ferengi,” Dukat said.
“Well, I suppose you’re not alone in that,” Quark said smoothly, “but I must tell you that my people have been victim to a great deal of slander and misrepresentation. We’re trying to make our way in the galaxy, just like everyone else, and we have no interest in conflict—all we want is to make a little money for ourselves. The truth is, fortune generally follows a Ferengi whenever he sets up a business venture on another world. You might be surprised to learn that on some worlds, Ferengi are considered good luck.”
Dukat stared. “Is that so?”
“Yes, it’s true,” Quark said. He hadn’t been so bold as to sit, but he leaned on one of the chairs in front of Dukat’s desk, the picture of casual arrogance. “Many people regard matters of economics to be something of a mystery, but it’s not like that to my people. Wherever we go, prosperity goes with us. A wise man might be looking for a way to share in a bit of that prosperity—”
“If you’re going to stay here,” Dukat interrupted, “I’m going to need to see the money up front. I’m not talking about credit, either. I’m not talking about a thumbscan on a padd, or a signature. I’m talking about hard currency, Mister Quark.”
“Currency, sure. I can get you that. I can do whatever you want. Just let me stay, Mister Dukat. Let me—”
“It’s Gul Dukat.”
“Gul Dukat, right. So, you’ll let me stay, won’t you?” The Ferengi had assumed a begging posture, his wrists pressed together in a strange demonstration of supplication.
“Hard currency,” Dukat repeated.
The Ferengi nodded again, his hands clasped together now in what Dukat perceived as feigned gratitude. “Would you consider working out some kind of a deal? Perhaps we could conceive of a system where you might offer some kind of a discount—reliant on my timely payment, of course—but then if I were to go into delinquency, you could charge a penalty. It would be a clever way for you to make a profit from—”
“I’m not interested in making a deal,” Dukat told the Ferengi. “I just want to see my money. By the end of the day, preferably. Otherwise, there are plenty of transports out of here with a reasonable likelihood of providing you passage on credit.”
Quark did not look happy, his bright eyes narrowing slightly, the massive ears on either side of his head seeming almost to droop. Dukat dismissed him, feeling comfortable that he would not have to see more of this Ferengi after today.
The Ferengi stopped at the door, turned to look at Dukat again. “I wonder if I might be able to interest you in something other than money. You see, the crew of my freighter left me several crates of unreplicated foodstuffs in the cargo bay—goods of the very finest quality—but I don’t know if I have the means to unload so much product without a go-between. Perhaps you’d be interested in—”
“I have no use for Ferengi fare,” Dukat said with some disgust. What the Ferengi called food, Cardassians paid good money to have exterminated.
“It’s not only Ferengi cuisine I’ve got in there,” Quark insisted. “I have contacts and suppliers all over the galaxy. I routinely purchased all kinds of foreign delicacies—anything I
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