Stardate, oh wait, that’s Pajama Boy talk.
We’d been in port at DS9 for a week, waiting for a delivery of surfing wax for the Kowabunga. Those Feddie supply ships take too long to transport needed supplies out to the far reaches of the Federation. Not very efficient, unlike the Klingon Empire, or even the Ferengi. This is what happens when government takes control of transportation. Distribution slows down to a snails crawl. It gets worse when you let government control the means of production, which the Federation is hard at work at accomplishing. Mr. Zog’s has been working on moving their factories out of Federation space before they get nationalized. If Flipper Kerry wins the election, then they’ve made the right decision. Either way, supply of their number one product should stabilize. Demand is always high for their wax.
With everything else secure on the Kowabunga, I decided to check out the Promenade, and hit Quark’s for a few rounds. I noticed that maintenance crews were busily working on cleaning up after the Drazi election. Okay, so how was I supposed to know it was Green Drazi Week at DS9 when I offloaded the group of Purple Drazi that Flipper stuck me with. The ensuing riot on the Promenade generated a call from one very upset Cisco.
Starbuck’s had opened up on DS9. About time, even if they do make a lousy raktajino. You’d think that refugee from a Battlestar would at least learn how to make a decent cup of coffee, not like those silly fru-fru drinks the Pajama Boys like to quaff down by the gallon. Latte’s, I think is what they call them. Note to self: Next time I see Cisco in Quark’s buy him a round, preferably a Fuzzy Klingon.
Noticed funny blue cabinet labeled “Police Public Call Box” next to the Starbuck’s. I guess the crime rate must be going up. Or maybe riot control for the Drazi? I wonder who won?
Entering Quark’s I made a quick scan, noticed a few Drazi knocking back pints of Denebian slime Water. No sashes, so these guys had been “voted” out of the election. Quark had redecorated, and added another one of those new Police boxes I had noticed by the Starbuck’s. Cisco must be paranoid, or something.
At the bar, Quark came up and said, “So, Kahuna, the usual?”
“You bet,” was my response. The usual being a pint of Guinness with a Tribble Sweat chaser. “May as well rack up a second round. It’s been a rough day.”
“Oh, do tell…Cisco still mad at you for dropping those Drazi off on his doorstep?” I nodded. “No surprise there, it was the middle of the Green Drazi Convention. Imagine: Hundreds of Drazi, all wearing green sashes, having a grand old time, when suddenly twelve Drazi wearing purple show up. Luckily I was able to close down before the riot hit my bar.” I nodded again, plunked down the empties from my first round, while Quark drew me another pint, and set a second shot of Tribble Sweat down in front of me.
“So, what’s with the new security boxes?” I finally asked.
“Security boxes?” Quark looked puzzled, so I pointed at the blue police box. “Oh, that, it belongs to the Doctor.”
“Julian taking an interest in police property?”
“No, not Julian, him.” Quark pointed out a man with brown curly hair sticking out form under a foppish hat, a multi-colored scarf coiled around his neck and draped over his shoulders.
“Who’s he?”
“Some drifter. Arrived in that blue box in the corner.”
“So what’s his name?”
“Who.”
“Him?!” I pointed at this roguish fellow, just to confirm who I was talking about.
“The Doctor?” Quark responded, nonchalantly.
“Yes, the doctor. What’s his name?” I was loosing my patience with Quark. I slammed the empty shot glass upside down on the bar, just to annoy Quark. He winced.
“I told you already.”
“Told me what?”
“His name.”
“Who’s name.”
“That’s right.”
“His name is Right?”
“No. Who’s his name.”
“That’s what I’m asking you!”
“Okay, Kahuna. Take a deep breath and relax. Listen to what I say. The name of the Doctor is Who.”
“Quark, you should listen to yourself. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been seeing Gag Halfrunt.”
“Quiet, someone might hear you.” Quark’s glance darted around the place, checking to see if anyone had heard that last exchange. Relaxing, he said, “Look, Kahuna, just call the guy Doctor. Everyone else does. He’s just the Doctor.”
“Okay, so he came here in that blue police box. There’s one like it down by the Starbuck’s. He couldn’t have come in that one as well, now could he?”
“He could.”
“Who could.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re losing me,” and I was getting more annoyed. Time for another Guinness. “And I’m getting dry.”
“No more for you unless you swear that you will never, ever slam a glass down on my bar again. You know how it hurts my ears.”
“Okay, I’ll swear to never do that again.”
Quark, satisfied, drew a pint of Guinness for me.
“Now, about this Doctor, how could he show up in two of those boxes?” I asked.
“More like seven or eight. Including the one in Cisco’s office. Cisco wasn’t amused.” Quark pointed to various groups around the place. “And they all brought a variety of friends.” I could see the dollar signs in Quark’s eyes. Profit!
“So, who are they?”
“The Doctor.”
“All of them?”
“That’s right. And they are all the same person, and yet they aren’t,” Quark sounded a bit mechanical in his response, as if he said it a hundred times before. “If you only knew how many times I’ve been thru this.”
Things were beginning to get clearer, but then again, maybe not. “What brings them to DS9?” Curiosity was nagging at me.
“They all came out to see the new K’Abbot and Kostello routine. They’re performing here tonight. I even saved you a few tickets.” Quark smiled, “but they’re going to cost you.”
“Okay, Quark, how much?” He knows I am a big fan of these two comedians. They even made a few films, my favorite being K’Abbot and Kostello Meet Captain Kirk. Tremendous laugh fest as they outwit Kirk and the crew of the Enterprise, preventing McCoy from putting Kostello’s brain into Spockenstein’s Monster. It’s been awhile.
“Kahuna, old buddy, old pal. All they are going to cost you is ten barrels of Blood Wine. The good stuff, not the cheap stuff from Rua Penthe.”
“Deal.” I finished my third round, failed to slam the shot glass on the bar to Quark’s delight. “I better get back to the ship and let the crew know we’re going to the show tonight.”
Quark may be a pain to deal with at times, but he always takes care of his best contacts, and we always take him up on all offers extended. Ten barrels of Blood Wine. We’ve got at least that much in the cargo hold.
Kahuna
