At least she’s paying her rent on time,Quark thought. Subletting the rooms to Treir had its financial benefits, to be sure, but he felt he was being consistently overcompensated in aggravation. Still, Treir was an Orion female, and that alone made her one of the bar’s main attractions these days. Her,he thought grudgingly, and her heavily muscled protégé, that Bajoran dabo boy, Hetik.

Dabo boy.Quark repressed a shudder, as he did every time the two words came together in his mind, and steeled himself as he stopped in front of Treir’s door. He pressed the touchpad mounted into the bulkhead and signaled admittance.

There was no answer, but Quark could hear giggling coming from inside the room.

“Treir, it’s Quark,” he said brusquely. “Let me in, I need to talk to you.”

“Go away,”came the reply.

“That’s no way to speak to your employer.”

“It’s my night off,”he heard her say. “Besides, I’ve got company.”

“Come on, Treir. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking. This is important.”

Even through the metal door Quark’s sensitive ears heard the satisfying sound of a sigh of resignation. “I’m sorry about this,”he heard her tell her visitor.

Probably Hetik,Quark thought darkly. If those two are sleeping together, I’ll have to watch them even more closely than before.

The door opened, and to Quark’s abject shock, Morn walked out.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Quark demanded.

Morn favored him with a waggle of his meaty brow before he lumbered passed and headed off down the corridor. With his jaw hanging, Quark turned back to the doorway to demand an explanation from Treir, almost bumping into her. With one hand on the door frame and another perched on her curvacious hip, Treir stood in the threshold and glowered down at him from her two-meter height. “This had better be important.”

All questions about Morn suddenly evaporated as Quark focused on Treir. She looked terrible. Clad in dull gray sweatpants, floppy sandals, and a baggy T-shirt that read KISS ME, I’M IRISH, Treir looked… frumpy.Her long, lusterless hair was tied back in a knot, except for a few ropy locks that hung carelessly in front of her face.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s my night off,” she said through her teeth.

“Look, I’m sorry, it’s just—I’ve never seen you so…relaxed.”

She leaned forward menacingly. “Look a little closer. Do I seem relaxed?”

Quark swallowed. “Now that you mention it, no. Actually, you look like someone who’s spent too much time around Morn.”

Treir rolled her eyes and went back into her quarters. “What do you want?”

Quark followed her inside. “I just need to talk to you for a few minutes.”

Treir dropped onto a massive plush couch and crossed her feet atop the coffee table. “You already said that. What’s on your mind?”

“Ro,” Quark said.

Treir dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, please, not this.”

“Would it kill you just to listen to me?”

“Why me?”

“Because I need some objectivity,” Quark admitted angrily. “You’ve seen Laren and me interact more than anybody, and I need to talk to someone.”

Treir sighed. “Get on with it,” she said resignedly.

Quark sat on the edge of a chair facing the couch and leaned forward as he spoke. “You know I’m giving up the bar.”

Trier nodded. “Yes, I know. You aren’t the first male I’ve met who disappeared into the unknown when faced with a midlife crisis.”

“It’s nota midlife crisis!”

“Whatever. Why are we rehashing this?”

“What you don’t know is that Ro’s supposed to come with me,” Quark said. “She resigned her commission.”

That got Treir’s attention. She sat up. “Why?”

“For the same reason I’m leaving: the Federation.”

“Really,” Trier grunted. “Huh. That’s a surprise.”

“What’s so surprising?” Quark said defensively.

“Don’t get all indignant, Quark,” Treir said. “I just meant that I got the impression Ro was starting to like it here. I’m just surprised she’d want to leave.”

“That’s just it!” Quark said. “I’m starting to wonder if she really does. We’ve been talking for weeks about how our lives would change if Bajor joined the Federation, and when the idea to leave and go into business together came up, I thought she was all for it. She even told Kira she was quitting. Then Shakaar gets himself killed, and suddenly she’s more driven than ever. It’s as if I’ve ceased to exist. I haven’t been able to talk to her since the assassination.”

“Quark, what did you expect?” Treir asked. “That she’d turn her back on her planet during what may be its worst crisis since the Occupation?”

Quark stared at the floor, feeling frustrated and unsure how to articulate it. “I expected her to be honest with me,” he said.

Treir looked back at him in silence for a moment, then said, “Quark, I’mgoing to be honest with you. I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on between you two. On the surface you seem as preposterous a couple as I’ve ever encountered. But you’re right, ever since we escaped from the Orion Syndicate, I’ve had the opportunity to watch you both, and I can see that you two have managed to pierce the absurdity of the mere idea and actually made a connection.”

Quark was unsure whether to be flattered or insulted. “What’s your point?”

“Do you love her?”

Quark became flustered. “I don’t know. No. Yes…. Maybe.”

Treir smiled. “Then let her be who she really is, whateverthat turns out to be. That’s love. Anything else is just a transaction.”

Quark continued staring at the floor, shaking his head. “I have to be who I am, too,” he said quietly.

“And who is that exactly?” Treir asked.

Quark looked up and met Treir’s gaze. “You wanna know the truth? I’m not even sure I know anymore. Everything I do now, every choice I make, I keep making Laren part of the equation, whether I mean to or not. And now I wonder if the only way she and I will ever get together is if one of us becomes something we’re not. Which would kill it between us, wouldn’t it?” Been living on this station too long,he thought. I’m starting to think like these people.

“Have you ever stopped to consider,” Treir asked softly, “that the person you think you’re turning into is the one you’ve been all along, and just never realized it?”

Silence fell on the room, in the midst of which Quark wondered if he should fire Treir—or give her a raise. Then the silence was broken by a thud against the wall, coming from the corridor. It sounded as if a body had been thrown against it.

Treir was on her feet at once. “What the hell was that?”

“Probably a Klingon who had a few too many,” Quark said dismissively. “I’ve seen it before. Let security deal with it.”

Ignoring his advice, Treir went to the door and opened it. Quark chased after her. It wasn’t a Klingon. A Cardassian was leaning heavily against the wall a few meters away. And not just any Cardassian,Quark realized. It’s Dukat’s lookalike relative, Gul Macet. He doesn’t look too good, either. Oh, frinx, please don’t let it be another bad bottle of kanar….

“Are you all right?” Treir asked.

Macet was grimacing in pain, jerking his head violently as if experienceing some kind of attack. His hands clawed at his own face, drawing blood.

“Yuck,” Quark said.

Macet opened his eyes, seeming to fight to focus them on Quark and Trier, his lips moving soundlessly. He started to fall, but Treir ran up to him and caught him before he hit the deck.

“Heeellllpppp mmmeeeee…” the gul rasped.

Quark found a corridor companel. “Quark to infirmary. Medical emergency on the habitat ring. Section 015, level two. It’s Gul Macet.” If it was the kanar,at least he’d could say he tried to save the man’s life. What’s that smell?