Chapter One
Stardate 32217
DaiMon Flax had hit the jackpot.
Each new mineralogy report bore it out further. The planets and moons of this system were richly endowed with dilithium, latinum, verterium, topaline, and other rare and precious minerals in abundant quantities. All just sitting there waiting for the Ferengi to claim it, since this system had no pesky inhabitants to argue ownership or resist strip-mining operations.
This was the kind of haul that Ferengi dreams were made of, and Flax had come across it on his very first voyage as DaiMon. It boggled the mind. His father, Bok, had spared no expense in ensuring that his beloved son could follow in his footsteps -- not only paving his path to DaiMonship with lucrative bribes in all the right palms, but hiring the most expensive tutors and driving Flax hard to ensure his skills were worthy of the position thus purchased. And that position was a prestigious one: commander of the Raider-class starship Seventy-Fifth Rule, a compact but high-powered scout designed to be at the vanguard of commercial expansion, racing far beyond known space to seek out new wealth and new opportunities and to claim them for his own -- and for the greater glory of the Ferengi Alliance, by means of the sizable percentages which the Grand Nagus and the GuiMon in Chief demanded from every DaiMon's claims.
But even Bok had never expected that his son would make such a valuable strike so early in his career. This is leverage, he told himself. This kind of luck suggested that the Great River was flowing in his favor, and if he played his hand deftly, he could impress the Nagus and GuiMon enough to stand up to them and negotiate a larger share of the system's wealth.
Careful, he told himself, recalling the Forty-third Rule of Acquisition: "Feed your greed, but not enough to choke it." He could negotiate for more, yes, but if he demanded too much, the Nagus would see him as ungrateful and disrespectful, and that would hurt his chances for profit in the long run. Besides, this system was a big enough prize that even a fledgling DaiMon's share would make him rich.
Yes, the River is generous, Flax reflected, taking a moment to consider the larger picture. Even Ferenginar's best-paid scientists were still hard-pressed to explain how exotic compounds like dilithium and duranium could form naturally, and yet such valuable substances could nonetheless be found in the mineral strata of many worlds. Flax took it as proof that the River was flowing beneath the surface of things, creating wealth and depositing it where Ferengi could make the best use of it. In this case, where Flax could make the best use of it. Maybe it was arrogant to think of the River choosing to provide for him personally. But other Ferengi had been endowed with legendary luck over the ages, and if this find didn't prove that Flax was one of those blessed ones, it was at least evidence that he could be.
A proximity alert sounded, jarring Flax out of his reverie. "DaiMon!" reported tactical officer Gorp. "Our remote probes are detecting an unidentified vessel approaching the system at warp!"
"On viewer!" Flax cursed himself for his complacency, even while commending himself for the decision to send out the sensor drones (well, actually it had been on science officer Mench's initiative, but since Mench was on Flax's payroll, that made it his idea by the Twenty-fifth Rule). Right now the ship was conducting a mineralogical assay of a deep impact crater on a moon of the system's giant fifth planet, and the kelbonite and other minerals that permeated the crust were interfering with sensors. The drones had been launched to speed the survey of the system's planets, but they also served as sensor and communication relays, compensating for the ship's current blindness.
Indeed, Flax realized that they gave him an advantage over this potential claim-jumper: he could see them, but if his luck held, they hadn't seen him yet. And hopefully not the drones either. "Shut down all thrusters on the drones. Communication on tight-beam only. Gorp, can you identify the intruder?"
"I don't recognize the warp signature, DaiMon." Gorp paused. "However, I could run it through the database for a match..."
Flax grinned at his subordinate's initiative. In an imminent crisis, military crews had no time for negotiation and had to follow their DaiMon's orders without question. But at the moment, the crisis was just imminent enough to give Gorp leverage while not yet so imminent that his delay posed a danger. "Five slips if you do."
"Ten."
"Seven." Don't push it, his tone said.
"Done." As Gorp worked his console's interface hemisphere to run the search, Flax did the same with the smaller globe on his command chair's arm, appending the seven-slip bonus to Gorp's pay for the week. "Here it is," Gorp said, then sucked in a gasp. "DaiMon...it reads as Federation."
Flax spun to face the tactical officer. "Starfleet?"
"I think so."
"Two more slips."
"Yes, definitely Starfleet." Gorp didn't look happy about his extra profit. "DaiMon...what do we do?"
Flax shared his crewmate's anxiety. In recent years, the Ferengi had been hearing increasingly about this United Federation of Planets from various trading partners. They had sought to learn more, but carefully, clandestinely, as per Rule 194: "It's always good business to know about new customers before they walk in your door." Besides, these people claimed to be explorers, seeking only peaceful contact and discovery, with no interest in profit. They even claimed to have a society without property or money. That meant one of two things: they were lying, or they were insane.
So Grand Nagus Zek had chosen to pursue a cautious strategy, ensuring that when the time finally came, the Ferengi could face these bizarre beings from a position of strength. The Alliance had begun negotiating with new races from a distance, through intermediaries or over audio channels, in order to create an air of mystery about themselves. Zek had offered their earlier trading partners incentives to stay quiet about the Ferengi's true nature -- particularly their small stature relative to most humanoids -- and even to spread rumors painting them as a vicious, dangerous race, a people who blew up planets that got in their way and served up females and children as afternoon snacks. Zek had also been investing more funds into a military buildup, both to bolster the Ferengi's new, meaner image and to improve their ability to defend themselves for real if the Federation proved as dangerous as Zek suspected.
But it was too soon. Zek's master plan was still being put in place; it would be years before the Ferengi were ready to face the Federation. If this Starfleet vessel discovered the Seventy-fifth Rule, scanned it, and learned its technical capabilities and the life signs of its crew, all hopes for a safe and profitable first contact could be scuttled. That could not be allowed to happen.
Moreover, the ship might be coming to jump Flax's claim on this system. That could really not be allowed to happen.
"Any sign they've detected us?" he asked Gorp.
"No, DaiMon. They still approach at a low but steady warp factor. The crater shields us well."
Flax studied their course plot on the viewer: it would bring them near the giant planet that this moon orbited. They seemed to be heading for a warp gravity-assist maneuver, banking around the planet's subspace gravity well to put them on course for the fourth planet without using thrusters. A smart, economical maneuver -- further evidence that these Federation types weren't as unconcerned with profit as they claimed. But it would be their downfall, for it would bring them well within the Seventy-fifth Rule's weapons range while never bringing them into line of sight with it, leaving them unaware of its presence until they were directly in its gunsights. Flax smiled. Maybe the River was still bringing him luck after all.
Captain's Log, Stardate 32217.3
U.S.S. Stargazer
on routine survey mission into the Maxia Zeta star system. Initial scans indicate twelve planets, none habitable. The third and fourth are in Maxia Zeta's habitable zone, and may therefore be candidates for terraforming. Our science teams are preparing for a full survey and surface scan.
"So...where do you want to go for your birthday?"
Jean-Luc Picard looked askance at his first officer, who leaned nonchalantly against the starboard bridge railing. "This isn't a pleasure yacht, Gilaad. I go where the mission takes me. No telling where we might be on that date."
Gilaad Ben Zoma threw his captain a skeptical look. "Come on, Jean-Luc. This is the big one! A couple more months, and you'll have made it a whole half-century!" His eyes went up a bit. "And with fully half your hair."
Picard smirked and stroked his ever-increasing expanse of bare scalp, his hand coming to rest against what remained of his graying brown hair. "Don't knock it, Gilaad. It makes me sleeker. Cuts down on wind resistance and excess weight."
"Planning on running more marathons?"
"Well, it never hurts to be prepared for the long run."
Ben Zoma winced. "We could always make a run back toward Federation space if you wanted. Give the crew leave, take some personal time...if there's anyone special you'd like to spend your birthday with." He sidled closer, lowered his voice. "What was the name of that JAG officer back on Starbase 32 last year? Phillipa...?"
Picard glared. "The bridge is no place for gossip, Number One," he said, a bit of sternness entering his voice. Ben Zoma looked mildly taken aback. Normally Picard would not have been so bothered by a discussion of one of his liaisons; he was close to his crew, and they knew he was as romantic at heart as any Frenchman. This bridge had hosted banter about his love life before, most notably nine years ago when he had be...
