The alarm went off as it usually did, measuring out the clockwork increments in the passages of his lifeline. Simultaneously, the programmed lighting in his room came on dim mode, faintly illuminating its surroundings. Quark had slept heavily that passage--the time span DS9 had appropriated for what on other planets was known as night. But on a space station suspended in deep space, artificial segments were established for morning, business hours, closing time, and night for those species that functioned in that manner, to simulate earth and other planets which had that sort of environment.

It was Sunday morning, and Sundays Quark took more carefree, laid back and even contemplative. For, although he never really got a full day off, at least on Sunday it was only half a day--opening his establishment at noon, or as they say on the station, 1200 hours.

Quark groggily made his way over to the food replicator, ordering up coffee--Blue Mountain, scrambled eggs, and a side order of blueberry pancakes. For although like most Ferengi he found most of the human customs and formalities irritating, their cuisine he'd developed a taste for. However, today he ate unthinkingly, lost in his thoughts. The food was neither good nor bad. It simply kept one going, like fuel in an engine.

He dressed with more awareness ... creme-colored shirt with ruffles, brown trousers which had been let out by Garak--with a tad more room in the waist and seat because Quark felt his older clothing's tight fit the source of some discomfort adding to his anxiety of late. Then he grabbed his favorite colorful coat--for Ferengi were always known for being dapper dressers. Stepping through the doorway onto DS9's concourse the doorway opened and closed with the familiar swoosh, and he was ready to begin his day.

Quark's living quarters were on the third level of the habitat ring. It was a floor designating prestige, marking him as a citizen of Deep Space Nine's elite working class, something he'd always dreamed of back on his homeworld as a boy. But now the uniformity of the space station was getting to him. The gray walls and ceiling made the station seem more cold than usual, creating a nagging indifference. He kept thinking, however, someday... Someday I'll leave this rotating den of disenchantment, and really start living my life anew. I'll be wealthy beyond measure, and people will step back at my approach, for fear of the power money brings.

He entered the bar, and ordered the computer commands: lights--medium bright, music--Mendelssohn's A Midsummernight's Dream, aroma ambiance scent set on Alpine Forest (recalling his last vacation in the Swiss Alps), and then ordered another cup of joe--Blue Mountain. He sat down contemplatively drinking, halfway thumbing through the DS9 Examiner.

The outside bazaars and shops were already starting to stir. Storekeepers and tradesmen were starting their morning routines. Quark accepted it. The entrepreneur's life: bossing around the employees, smoothing out all the petty trivialities that comes with the job, using etiquette and diplomacy when serving the elite and commoner philosophy for everyone else, and regarding the Ferengi Rule of Acquisition: 'Good customers are as rare as latinum--treasure them,' as the golden rule. This philosophy of business practices was what made him successful, but recently, deep down he still felt a nagging burn-out. The crowds tested his manners, the bar talk was beyond banal, and it seemed to be becoming more and more a tasteless endeavor--much like the breakfast he'd had earlier. Sure it sucked in the money; he maintained a certain amount of respect from his patrons, but it was growing mundane, morose even. And yet, in spite of it all, he still felt strangely drawn to it. It was a reminder from his youth. He had wanted this, or something akin to this. It had not been forced upon him. He welcomed it, reached out for it, fought for it. And now that he had it, a strange mood had settled in his mind. Maybe he was just in dire need of another vacation. Nevertheless, he hoped the visitor to DS9, no less Quark's bar and emporium, would remedy this prevailing ennui. Possibly the meeting with the stranger might even bear fruit, profitable fruit. At the very least, the stranger's arrival had set the place a buzz with rumors and speculation, as no one had ever met a Thrall before--not until now, and for now there was anticipation in the air.

Quark's brother entered the doorway interrupting his ruminations.

"Brother," Rom remarked. "I thought you'd be busy tidying up the place: sweeping the floor, polishing the silverware and glasses, or dusting the furniture for the arrival of the new guest."

"There's plenty of time for that," Quark barked back. "Besides, dear brother, that's your job."

"I know, but with this Thrall coming to DS9, and particularly to our place, I thought you'd be in the spirit of things. And what do I find instead? A solemn Ferengi, lost in his own thoughts. Quark, if I didn't know you any better, I'd say you were melancholy."

"Rom, me melancholy? Please ... What in heaven's name do I have to be gloomy about? I've got the best bar in this quadrant, friends galore, and nosey hired-help that keep me agitated. I've got no time for gloom. Besides, if I play my cards right, I just might be able to profit off this new strange visitor. In fact, Rom, I've got an ace up my sleeve that just might help me hit the big time."

"What do you mean?" Rom asked, now more curious than ever.

"Oh what," Quark continued, "has curiosity got the little cat? What would the little kitten think if I told him I have a case of Orion Burgundy stored within my quarters?"

"Orion Burgundy," Rom exclaimed, now showing much more excitement. "Where on earth did you happen upon that rarity?"

"Not from Earth, Rom," Quark continued, "but it doesn't matter how, why, or where I got it; it's that I do have it, is all that matters."

"But, but ... I thought all of the Orion Burgundy was in rare supply," Rom chattered. "I thought that there wasn't any more of that libation anywhere in this galaxy. I thought that vintage was worth a small fortune. I thought--"

"Easy there Rom, settle down before you blow a gasket. You're correct. Orion Burgundy is very scarce indeed. I stumbled upon this case about a year ago, making a rare trade with a dim-witted Klingon for some equally dull cutlery and a case of that homemade whiskey we brewed up some time back which you referred to as Old Grand Gag. Remember how the Rule of Acquisition #192 states 'Never cheat a Klingon ... unless you're sure you can get away with it'? Well, this oaf didn't know what kind of rarity he had ... so I came out of the trade smelling like a rose. And ever since then I've been waiting for the right moment and time to cash it all in for the big one. We've all heard the rumors how the Thrall are connoisseurs of fine wine--no less the special vintages. Then add to the fact that the Thrall are some of the wealthiest species in this quadrant, and, well, the mind boggles doesn't it Rom?"

"Oh, my yes," Rom concurred, "I do think you've netted yourself a nice little windfall."

"Windfall indeed," Quark said falling back into thoughts of wealth, and a better lifestyle. Far and away from the space station. Unfettered by all the hustle and bustle of the workingman's life. Maybe today would be different after all. Today just might change it all. Forever.

The rest of the day passed by quickly and uneventful. Morn dropped by the bar later, taking residence at his typical stool, holding up his two fingers--his signal for the usual ... bitter Andorian ale. He and Quark were talking and telling a few Romulan jokes when Odo dropped by to check in on his favorite Ferengi.

"Well, Quark," Odo gruffly spoke. "I see we're busy at it. I haven't seen your bar this clean in quite a while. Expecting company?"

"Yes, Odo," Quark barked back, "it's also a business meeting, you might say. Maybe you could tell me this Thrall's name, so I'll be prepared for his visit."

"Ha!" Odo guffawed. "His name is Helios Creed, and he'll have no business here, I assure you. Coming from his upbringing and background I doubt he'd even be seen in a place like this. Besides this is a diplomatic affair, as he is the first Thrall to visit the station. And I'm here to remind you to be on your best behavior."

"Me ... Odo?" Quark innocently queried. "Why, I'm always here to please, you know that."

"Quark!" Odo exclaimed. "Something tells me there's something devious going on in that little Ferengi brain of yours."

"Why Odo," Quark replied, "I do believe you're being complementary today, because that's the first time you've ever given me the benefit of doubt towards rational thinking."

"A minor slip, Quark, I assure you," he said. "Just be sure to be on your best behavior. And be sure your patrons are as well, or I'll hold you solely responsible."

"Not to worry old pal," Quark quickly replied. "I'll take that advice to heart. Now if you'll excuse me I'm rather busy ... Unless you'd like to help out by turning yourself into a vacuum cleaner, and start doing the carpets--"

A glance from Odo halted any further jeering from Quark. He knew when he'd pushed the envelope with the Constable about as far as he dared.

"Just bear in mind my words, Quark," Odo restated, "Commander Sisko wants a smooth and flawless meeting with the Thrall. Their race is notably great in the area of trade and the trafficking of goods, and would be a good liaison for DS9. You're not to muck it up."

"You have my word," Quark spoke graciously, "The Thrall will be treated with the greatest of dignity and respect at Quark's Bar."

With that reassurance, Odo left, leaving Quark to his duties. Quark would have to remind his staff to roll out the red carpet for Mr. Creed. Now his anticipation was peaked. The afternoon would go quickly, with his thoughts of what the future might bring.

The signal of tones emanating from the clock in DS9's town square area sounded to everyone that the passage marking closing time had arrived. The merchants were putting up their closing signs, and doing those last-minute details to end their day. This was Quark's busiest time of day as the business crowd entered his establishment for a drink and a chat or just to unwind a bit. Then, after a brief respite, they would leave for home and family. Was ever thus the custom on DS9.

Over the intercom, the Thrall's arrival had just been announced. Quark and his staff were busy cleaning up after the so-called "happy hour" crowd. There would be the obligatory supper with the commanding officers, and a key to DS9 was presented (as was custom to most distinguished guest and dignitaries). Later, a tour of the space station was to be conducted by Worf. Quark had set up a meeting with the Thrall at 2700 hours--after all the hubbub of his arrival had settled down. Quark had already sent word by way of messenger to the dinner party that he might have something of interest to trade or sell, and had pre-arranged the meeting.

As usual, the nighttime crowd was starting to fill the bar. The dabo tables were busy, the dance floor was sparse, but active, and the crowd inside was in a pleasant mood.

Without much fanfare the Thrall and his escort entered the bar, hardly noticed at first amongst all the festive noise. Both walked past the den of pleasure seekers and positioned themselves near the front of the bar, which Quark was busily attending.

"Citizens," the escort announced. "I hereby wish to greet you, the citizens of DS9. My name is Atem Vox, manservant to his loyal honor, Helios Creed, Lord of the eighth house of Korith'en-Thrall. We come as peaceful merchants, and we welcome your patronage. Whom might be the one that goes by the name of Quark, owner of this establishment?"

At this proclamation, Quark hit his head on the bar's over-hang (as he was arranging items underneath the serving area), but quickly regained his composure and came out from behind his work area to meet his guest.

"Greetings and welcome," Quark quickly spoke. "This is my establishment and I'm sole proprietor here. Make yourselves at home. Might I offer you a drink or anything to eat--we have delicious cakes and pastries sent in from all over the galaxy."

Quark looked at the two strangers. Helios Creed was very gaunt and elegant looking, appearing to be somewhere over 6 foot in stature. He had well-defined features and form, as to give him an erudite appearance. He had black flowing hair, and a smooth bluish skin. He wore a fine silk white tunic, and had a large belt around his waist which sported a large golden buckle with black ornate inlay. On both his wrists he wore golden armbands, embedded with brightly colored jewels--the inlay formed some sort of inscription in an alien language. From around one of the belt loops a golden chain hung, and as he approached Quark; he took out the end of the chain from his pant's pocket to reveal an ornate pocket watch.

His manservant, Atem, was dressed equally well, however, he was far more diminutive in size, wearing a fine leather cape. He had an almost albino-like appearance to his skin tone, but rather than being a pale white was a hue of light purple. He wore the hat of his cape drawn up over his head, and had a full white beard. He had a stern gaze, as if to command one's best behavior while in their presence. From around his neck hung a gold necklace, which also was a golden medallion inscribed upon with the same strange runic inscriptions.

As they approached, Quark extended his hand to greet them in a token of friendship and welcome. "Greetings, Mr. Creed and Mr. Vox, I hope your visit to DS9 so far has been a pleasant one.

"Please, you may dispense with formality and call me Helios," the Thrall spoke. "I've received word from a messenger that you may have something of interest for sale or possible trade. As you know, we Thrall are merchants and traders--it's been our heritage since our race was young."

"My," Quark retorted, "cut the chase and let's get down to business, indeed. But as you were approaching, I couldn't help but notice your finely-crafted pocket watch."

"Yes, it's been an heirloom in my family for countless years--quite priceless to me," Helios said. "As you might be aware, the Thrall are fine craftsmen in jewelry and metallurgy." He unhooked the watch from one of his belt loops, and gave it to the Ferengi for a closer inspection.

"I say, Helios, this is a remarkable piece of craftsmanship," Quark said, as he held up the timepiece towards the light, watching it spin around as the overhead lights glinted off the golden material, bouncing off a golden glare onto all its surroundings. "If this antique wasn't so priceless to you, I'd be willing to trade you my case of Orion Burgundy for it alone."

"Orion Burgundy!" Helios remarked. "You have an entire case of Orion Burgundy stored somewhere aboard this vessel? Why, I thought that vintage of wine long ago extinct. As you may also know, the Thrall are fine connoisseurs of rare libation, and the more rare, the better. Yes, Quark, I do think we may be able to talk business. And how much would you want to sell this case of fine wine for?"

As Quark thought about a fair price, he gave Helios back his pocket watch. But before he could arrive at an answer, a computerized transmission came over the intercom: "Warning, warning! Please take cover immediately. Detectors have indicated an invading force of the Jem'Hadar in this sector. Please seek shelter immediately."

No sooner had the alarm been sounded than Helios and Atem quickly glanced at each other in a rather surprised state of awe and fear for their safety. Instinctively, without much forethought, both Thrall ran towards the bar, and with a leap, dived over the wooden construct, landing on the floor beneath with a resounding thud.

In the stillness of the aftermath, the crowd inside that area grew deadly quite. Then, as if almost simultaneously the entire crowd broke out into loud laughter at the spectacle.

"Come, come gentlemen," Quark said, as he ran around to the other side of the bar to get his guests back onto their feet. "Don't be alarmed. That's just an automated system which DS9 uses. It's programmed into the station's computer to go off randomly each day--it's merely a drill. Had a real situation arose, the warning system would have been proceeded by five warning sounds of a siren."

And sure to Quark's words came the following message over the intercom: "This was merely a test. Had there been a real emergency five blast would have been sounded. I repeat this was only a test of your emergency broadcast system."

As the Thrall slowly got back to their feet and dusted themselves off, even they started to find a bit of humor in what had just happened, and they too joined in the laughter.

"Rom," Quark ordered. "Bring these gentlemen some Gorn ale, as I'm sure they could stand something to settle their nerves." With that, Quark led the two visitors over to a darkened, more secluded area of the room where they could talk in private. As the two enjoyed their ale, Quark was trying to think of a price which might be appropriate for the case of wine. He knew of the mines of gold latinum on their homeworld of Thrall'ith Four, but wondered if his proposition would offend them. Granted the Orion Burgundy was rare, but would a share of the mining be an outlandish offer? He conceded that it just might be a fair offer, and if he wanted that pie-in-the-sky retirement villa, why not?

"By Crom, that's good ale," Helios said, as he wiped the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. "You really know how to treat a guest, Quark. Now have you thought of an offer for the Orion Burgundy?"

"Rom, another round over here," Quark quickly announced to help ease the tension a bit. Then he leaned forward, and in a low voice, so as to be the least offensive as possible, he made an offer. "Helios, I was wondering, and please, this is just an opening offer, but I thought about, maybe say a one percent interest in one of your smaller mining operations over the next five years on Thrall'ith Four might be a fair starter."

Helios looked deep in thought, arched his eyebrows, as his companion whispered something into his ear. Without much hesitation the trader banged his fist down on the table, while putting his other arm around the much-shocked Ferengi's neck, and said, "Ha, you Ferengi are easy! I would have given four times that for such a rare case of wine. I must do more business here if you're that easy."

Quark rubbed the back of his neck, as it had been a while since he (no less any Ferengi) had been treated in that informal manner. But at a one percent interest in a gold mine field, he was willing, no less happy, to allow it to happen.

Both parties shook hands as the two guest finished their brews. Atem Vox had Quark sign a contract relinquishing his wine in the trade. They finally stood up, and made their way across the room, exchanging pleasantries and small talk, when Helios spied the chess board. "A chess board," he exclaimed. "We Thrall are avid game players. What say you join me in a game Quark?"

"Well, I don't know," Quark demurely stated. "I'm not really that great a player." But so as to not offend his guest, and spoil a future with this trader, he relented.

The chess board was set up, and the participants took their chairs. A small crowd gathered about to watch the spectacle.

"What say we make this game interesting, Quark," Helios said. "Why don't I bet this gold bracelet of mine against a fine case of that Gorn ale we were just drinking. It's easily a more-than-adequate offer." And indeed it was as his bracelet had to have been worth ten time the amount that Quark paid for the case of Gorn ale.

"Okay, Helios, you're on," Quark said, as his eyes lit up with the offer. It was one thing to become a partial owner in a gold latinum mine field, but he just might profit a little more in the bargain if the fates deemed it so. (For hadn't the 9th Ferengi Rule of Acquisition stated: 'Opportunity plus instinct equals profit?') "Just remember, Helios, I'm a little rusty in chess--I haven't played in a while."

The game began slowly. A move here, a stalled moment there. But before much time at all, Quark had won. Not only had he beat the surprised Thrall, but he'd done it with the beginner's ploy, commonly known as Fool's Mate. Helios appeared somewhat irate at the easy win, no less loosing his bracelet, and was already calling for a rematch to get his bracelet back. Quark's confidence was up for the rematch, having won so easily the first time. Now the crowd surrounding the little gaming table had grown.

"Well what do you want to play for this time?" Quark announced.

Again the Thrall offered up another piece of his gold jewelry as his part of the stakes. And in not much time, again he lost. This went on for the better part of an hour, but it was one of the more profitable hours in Quark's entire life. He was beside himself, his dreams of instant wealth had become a reality. The saddened Helios was at wit's end. Never had he played such a bad game of chess. He had exhausted all his gold and money to this Ferengi, as the pots had grown with each successive game. But in one last-ditch effort he put up his personal spacecraft as collateral.

The game started as a hush lay over the crowd. Now everyone's attention was focused on the game. All of Quark's patrons were clearly on his side, but even a few side bets were being waged over the outcome of the chess games. This last game itself went on for a full hour, but, unbelievably to Quark, he remained the victor.

As he cornered the Thrall visitor in checkmate, he slammed his hands down onto the table, jumped to his feet, and yelled, "Checkmate!"

Poor Helios was decimated. Not only had he lost all his gold, but now he didn't even have a ride back to his homeworld.

"Well," Helios stated, in a voice hardly audible. "It looks as if I really need to brush up on my chess skills. However, we Thrall stand by our deals, and do not back out. That is only for curs. If you could see it in your heart, friend Quark for a mere amount of pocket change for me and Atem to get back home, I'd be forever in your debt. Or I tell you what, Quark. I'll gladly sell you back your case of Orion Burgundy, for you to resell to another Thrall visitor, if you'll pay me a modest recompense."

"Sure," Quark eagerly replied. "How much money would you like for the case of Orion Burgundy?"

"Just a minor token of gratuity, dear friend," Helios sniffed. "Here I'll have my manservant draw up a legal contract for you to sign. I'll sell you back that case of burgundy for a small price. Pennies, in fact. What say you start with that first square of the chess board and place a penny, on the next square you double it to two pennies, and on the third square you double it again to four pennies, eight on the next, and so on around the board, doubling the number on each space. As I said, we need just enough money to buy fare on the Space Transport home. Whatever the final figure, I'd gladly settle for as payment."

My God, Quark thought. This Thrall must be one of the dumbest on his planet. There are only 64 squares on the chess board. How much money could this exchange cost me? A couple of hundred for airfare back to his homeworld is a steal to get my wine back. I already have a share in a gold mine, a small fortune in his jewelry, his shuttle craft, and now I'm getting my Orion Burgundy back for resale. "Yes, Helios," he said, "it's the least I can do." And quickly signed the form.

Quark began to lay down the first few pennies. So then began the process in which Helios would be paid. He placed one penny on the first square, two cents on the second, four on the next, and so on. Just a simple matter of pocket change.

At some point on the first row of squares, Quark ran out of money. "Rom," Quark shouted, "rather than waste my time with stacking all this money, go over to the cash register and punch into the computer these figures, so that I may pay Helios."

It took but a few seconds to tally the bill, upon which tally poor Rom was shocked into utter dumbfoundedness.

"Uh ... brother," Rom shakily said, "I think you better take a look at this."

"That's okay," Quark returned, "just grab out of the cash register whatever you need and pay off Mr. Creed. What's the total?"

At that Rom replied, "It comes to something like $184 quadrillion and some change!"

Awestruck, Quark got up from the gaming table, and made his way over to the bar, gasping, "That can't be right! Can't you even do simple math? Can't you operate a computer?" He took the calculator away from Rom, but much to his chagrin, found out the truth.

Quark found out that halfway across the chess board--32 spaces--the total equaled $21 million and change. When he got to square 40, the total was over $5 billion, and by square 43, the sum of $5 trillion was reached. The final tally by Rom was correct. He'd been hoodwinked, out foxed, and deviously tricked.

"Helios!" Quark gasped. "There isn't that much money in the quadrant, the galaxy--heck, the entire universe!"

And Helios just beamed, "And to think--you owe it all to me."

Flabbergasted, Quark shouted, "I've been duped by this, Thrall; drawn into a chess game by my good nature, and then taken to the cleaners. He expects me to pay him $184 quadrillion dollars!"

"and change ..." came Helios' reply over by the gaming area.

"However, Quark, I'll cut you a deal. I'll let bygones be bygones. We Thrall are a kindhearted race--amicable businessmen. Seeing as to how this is my first visit to DS9, I don't wish to tarnish the inhabitant's minds here into thinking that we are a race of flimflam artists. I'll let you off the hook, and just tear up this IOU and call it even."

Everyone around the gaming table, no less the entire bar, (as the last game had everyone's entire attention), was awed and astonished by Mr. Creed's proposal.

"I'll tear up this contract," Helios continued, "provided you give me back my space shuttle, my jewelry, and that contract, of course, for your share in the gold mine. Oh, and by the way, I'll keep that case of Orion Burgundy, we wouldn't want that to go to waste, now would we? Besides I'm sure you'd want to give it to me showing that you're not a spoiled sport, Quark, commemorating a nice commercial trade liaison between my race and the races of DS9.

Quark was decimated, but rather than loose composure and any of his Ferengi pride--he accepted the offer with dignity. Watching Helios tear up the contract, Quark felt more relived as he hadn't even considered the full outcome of this ordeal. What if he'd lost his entire bar in the transaction? Had his Ferengi lust for fortune blinded him to the situation at hand? What was a small case of burgundy, compared to his whole bar, or life for that matter. He'd never work his way out of that kind of debt. So with a handshake and a smile, both traders bid each other a good night.

Upon the following morning, Helios and Atem Vox left for their homeworld. Quark had not set his alarm to see them off. In fact he'd instructed Rom to come in early to open his place. He needed the extra rest to overcome the stress from the previous night's excitement.

Upon getting out of bed, however, he felt different. Relieved of anxiety, in some strange way. As if a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. Today the air smelled fresher, the coffee was more aromatic, and the breakfast was more tasteful. It was good to be alive. Quark's awareness of last night's interlude finally struck home again, and he became painfully aware how he had nearly lost it all: his bar, his friends, and his life aboard DS9.

Today he dressed with a new vigor. Today he was keenly aware of his prosperity. He put on a new outfit that he had put away for a special occasion, and made his way to the bar--his bar. By now it was mid-day, and the lunch crowd was being faithfully attended to by his brother and his employees.

"Well, Rom," he said, "It looks like you're more than busy."

"Yes, brother," Rom replied, "it was a hectic morning, but we got it all well under control." As he finally looked up from his labor, Rom noticed the new wardrobe on Quark. "My, look at you--you're radiant. Did you sleep well last night?"

"Like a rock," Quark said, as he gave Rom a wink and a smile.

"Something tells me you're up to something, brother," Rom queried, "What have you been up to?"

At that, Quark held up a pocket watch. It spun around in the lighting, reflecting off splotches of golden glints inside the bar.

"That's Helios' heirloom pocket watch. How on earth did you get hold of that?" Rom asked.

"Oh, I found it last night behind the bar as I was cleaning up," Quark confessed, as he motioned to the area in which Helios and Atem had jumped over the bar during the emergency alert of the computer system. "He must have dropped it during all the commotion. He might even notice it missing ... that is when he sobers up after drinking all that Orion Burgundy. By that time, the statue of limitations will have run out."

"What statue of limitations is that?" Rom asked.

"Oh the 30-day clause for lost-and-found items, which I've posted on the walls of my establishment." Quark strolled over to the notice on the wall, and read "'Notice: Patrons, all items lost and not claimed after 30 days become the sole property of the proprietor.' That's me," Quark said, as he looked back at the watch spinning around. "After that time, if I haven't heard from Mr. Creed, I'll send him an auction notice, along with several other fliers to the citizens on his homeworld. The Thrall, being such collectors as they are, wouldn't miss the chance to bid on such a priceless object as this--Helios included. Who knows, Helios might even be the highest bidder, and will be able to buy it back from me."

Rom chuckled at his brother's scheme. "You know, Quark, it's no wonder that you have been so prosperous--you're incorrigible."

"Right you are, Rom," Quark concurred, "Right you are. What's that Ferengi axiom ... 'Let others keep their reputations. You keep their money.'"

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