I've always had an admiration for short-short stories.  They're a
lot harder to write than long ones -- with the long ones, you can
sit down and write about breakfast and that can easily use up five
pages right there.  But with really short stories, you need what I
so rarely have -- ideas.  (My guilty secret -- Alara spoonfeeds me
most of "my" ideas.)  Here, I wanted to use one of my favorite
underused characters -- Quark.



The Deal's The Thing by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com)

It was the biggest deal of Quark's life.  The Gemmans had walked
into Quark's Place -- obviously recognizing a major player when
they saw one, and offered him a deal he couldn't refuse.  They
needed a broker for a sale, and he was their man.  He'd listened to
their proposal, and gotten them up to a 25 percent cut of the final
price for his portion before accepting, a percentage that was more
than enough for a humble businessman like himself.

That the sale was of Deep Space Nine and everyone and everything on
it, with the exception of Quark himself and his personal holdings,
was less than a moment's thought to Quark.  It wasn't like any of
them owed him money after all -- he'd made sure to get that before
he'd started bargaining with the Dhorn, the race that the Gemmans
were negotiating with.

They'd almost reached an agreement on the terms of payment, and if
the deal-making itself hadn't been so exciting, Quark would have
been drooling.

"Such a difficult decision," Quark said, looking back at Sisko,
gagged and bound behind him.  "I suppose half up front, with a
residual interest on the balance of 150 percent per day would be
acceptable."

There was a collective moan of despair from the people behind him,
but Quark didn't so much as twitch an ear, despite the overwhelming
excitement he felt at clinching a deal like this.

"Quark.  *Quark*!"

It was Rom's voice, and Quark turned impatiently to deal with him. 
He knew he should have sold the impertinent little squirt as well.

But Rom wasn't there.

Quark looked around for him, as the dream began to dissolve and the
grating voice became the only point of reality.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" Quark snarled, sitting up in bed, as he
realized that he'd only been dreaming, and that Rom had interrupted
it for some undoubtedly petty reason.

"There's a problem down here.  I've got a couple of..."

"I don't care if Starfleet is there, threatening to shut the place
down.  *Handle* it!" Quark snapped, then laid back down in bed,
resisting the urge to pull something over his face.  It was
impossible to get a truly good dream back, but he had to try.

Slowly, he fell back to sleep.  His unconscious body twitched, as
its owner flailed his arms in horror, as Starfleet started to
auction him off, limb by limb, and for a ridiculously low price at
that.

Down in the bar, Rom turned back to the Gemmans, doing his best to
ooze solicitousness.  "I'm sorry, but Quark is not available right
now.  Perhaps I could be of assistance."

"Sorry, one time offer, only," the Gemman said.  And then they were
gone.


-the end-