Sender: "MShuchat" <MShuchat@aol.com>
Message-Id: <9408011014.tn450729@aol.com>
From: MShuchat@aol.com
To: jfy@cis.ksu.edu
Subject: Murder One part 1 (for alt.startrek.creative)
Date: Mon, 01 Aug 94 10:14:54 EDT
Status: RO

 STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE
 "MURDER ONE"
 by Mark D. Shuchat

 "You're out!"
 Approximately four seconds before he heard the umpire's pronouncement, the
batter for the Boston Red Sox was rounding the bases in triumph, having
knocked the ball into the stands for a grand slam and thus clinching a
seventh-game World Series victory over the hated New York Mets.
 The batter could hear the wild roar of the crowd as the Boston fans
already began to celebrate. The roar grew to even higher levels of decibels
as he crossed home plate.
 That was when the umpire made his call.
 The batter stumbled and turned on the umpire in outrage. "What?!"
 "You heard me. You're out!"
 "But I hit a home run!"
 "Argue with me," threatened the umpire, "and you're outta here!"
 The batter sighed. "Computer, freeze program."
 The umpire halted in mid-threat as the batter tapped the insignia on his
uniform. "Sisko to Quark."
 "Quark here," came the slightly nasal voice of the Ferengi.
 "Quark, there's something wrong with my baseball program in Holosuite G,"
said Commander Benjamin Sisko. "This is the third time this month. Please
fix it and get it right this time."
 He distinctly heard a snort of exasperation from the Ferengi bartender on
the other end of the comm channel. "Now, Commander?"
 That snort, mused Sisko, meant one of three things. One, Quark was
presently busy with a big legitimate business deal and didn't want to be
disturbed. Two, Quark was presently busy with a big illegitimate business
deal and didn't want to be disturbed. And three, Quark was just trying to
annoy him. The hell of it was that he was succeeding.
 "Today, Quark," rumbled Sisko warningly.
 "Of course, Commander," Quark replied, in full smarm mode. "Quark out."
 Sisko sighed and terminated the program. Fenway Park faded away to reveal
the gold-on-black grid that was the holosuite in its natural state. "Exit."
 The doors slid aside and Sisko stepped onto the Promenade.

 Station Log, Stardate 46772.9:
 Trade with the Gamma Quadrant is really heating up. Ships have been moving
back and forth through the wormhole almost constantly, and it's taking a
lot of our resources just to keep up with the flow. It's also taking a lot
of my resources to keep Odo from arresting everyone who comes to see Quark.

 The turbolift stopped at Ops and Sisko walked out into the control center
of what had once been the Cardassian mining station for all of Bajor. Now
it was Deep Space Nine, a technically Bajoran station under Federation
administration.
 It was also, ever since the discovery of the wormhole, the jumping-off
point for trade with the Gamma Quadrant.
 "Good morning, everyone," he announced as he walked down the stairs.
Getting the usual absorbed mutter of reply from his staff, he stepped over
to Major Kira Nerys. "Status, Major?"
 "Two ships coming in today," Kira answered. "A small trader ship called
the Achilles, and the Gowron, a Klingon ship."
 "Klingons on the station," breathed Sisko. "That should be interesting."
 "You may want to warn Odo in advance," advised Kira. "The last time a
shipload of Klingons arrived, he couldn't sleep for three days."
 "Agreed, Major. What about the Achilles?"
 "It's owned and operated by Deborah Jarvis," piped up Lieutenant Jadzia
Dax, "an independent trader who hails from somewhere in the Centauri
sector."
 "Somewhere?"
 "According to customs officials, she's never been entirely clear on her
origin."
 Sisko rubbed his chin. "I'll talk to Odo and have her checked out. What
about the Klingons?"
 "Seeking passage to the Gamma Quadrant," said Kira. "Probably setting up a
colony or something."
 "Probably," agreed Sisko. "Let me know when they arrive."

 Miles O'Brien leapt back to avoid being singed by a sparking conduit in
Upper Pylon Two and cursed. This is not my idea of fun, he kept telling
himself. Exactly twenty-eight minutes earlier he had been cooing sweet
nothings into his wife Keiko's ear and hoping like hell that their daughter
wouldn't wake up. It had been their first "private time" in over a week,
what with her teaching schedule and his rather erratic work hours.
 It was when they were really getting down to business that the call came
through from Ops.
 Trying to ignore Keiko's cries of displeasure (instead of her cries of
pleasure) O'Brien managed to snarl something faintly civil into his
combadge.
 Kira had not been particularly impressed by his pleas for mercy and, in a
foul mood herself, had ordered him to the failed pylon conduit on pain of
being shot out of a photon torpedo launcher without a spacesuit.
 So O'Brien went, grumbling every centimeter of the distance between his
quarters and the conduit. He could feel a monster headache (not to mention
other parts of his anatomy) coming on and he knew he was going to have to
face the wrath of his wife. He briefly considered the possibility of
picking up where they left off upon his return home.
 He then looked down at his uniform, saw the smudges and the occasional
singe, and smelled the distinctive scent of human sweat and lubricating oil
upon his person. Not very likely, Miles, he told himself.
 His combadge beeped. "O'Brien here."
 "Status, Chief?" came Sisko's voice.
 "I'm almost done here, Commander," he replied. "You can tell the Gowron to
dock in five minutes."
 "Sooner than that please, Chief," Sisko said mildly. "The Gowron's weapons
officer has an itchy trigger finger."
 O'Brien grunted and worked faster. One or two sparks later, he tapped his
combadge again. "That should do it, sir."
 "I sincerely hope so, Chief." Sisko's voice cut off and O'Brien could hear
the grinding noise of the Gowron docking. He closed his eyes and prayed for
the conduit to hold. He didn't realize he had been holding his breath until
he let it out in a big whoosh.
 He scuttled back as the inner door opened, revealing several very large
Klingons standing in the airlock. They looked down on him as if he were
some interesting new sort of grub to be eaten along with a fistful of other
grubs.
 O'Brien smiled a touch weakly. "Welcome to Deep Space Nine."

 The Achilles smoothly slid into place on the docking ring. At least that
was working normally, O'Brien thought in relief as he passed by the airlock
en route back to his quarters.
 The airlock door opened and Deborah Jarvis emerged. The head of every
male, human and otherwise, on the Promenade swiveled to look at her. She
was utterly beautiful, with glowing blonde hair and clothing to accentuate,
rather than complement, her hourglass figure.
 More than a few men in her life had made the mistake of treating Jarvis as
just another floozy whose assets tended to concentrate below the neck. As
payment for their patronizing, she would often clean them out, then skip
town on the Achilles before they realized their financial accounts were
now, for some unfathomable reason, as empty as their beds after that last
night of passion.
 In this manner, she had not unnaturally produced a number of enemies in
Federation space, some of whom were mean enough to give her the shivers.
That was why she had set a course for this blighted corner of the galaxy.
Bajor and Deep Space Nine did not particularly interest her, aside from the
usual facilities of refitting and resupply.
 It was the wormhole, the express lane to the Gamma Quadrant. That was why
she was here. In the Gamma Quadrant, she could lay low for as long as it
took for the nastier of her former lovers (and business partners) to froth
over her disappearance then turn to other matters and forget about her. It
could take many years, but she was wasn't worried about that. She was more
than capable of hunkering down on an M-class planet and living as a farmer
for however long she had to.
 But first, she thought as she stepped onto the Promenade and drank in the
expressions of disbelief, curiosity and lust, a bit of fun.

 Jake Sisko saw Jarvis from the second-level walkway and fell in love.
 Quark saw Jarvis from his bar and wondered how much gold-pressed latinum
he could get out of her. He also wondered how much of her he could get out
of her clothing.
 Garak saw Jarvis from his clothing shop and idly considered what color
cloth would go best with her hair.
 Odo saw Jarvis from his office and decided to keep an eye on her.

 Someone else also saw her and almost leapt up shouting before controlling
himself. She was here! The woman who had ruined him and driven him out to
this godforsaken junk pile was really here!
 She had destroyed his family. She had ruined his life.
 Now it was time to return the favor.

 The part of Quark's brain that dealt with sexual fantasies nearly shorted
out when Jarvis headed towards his bar. "My most beautiful customer of the
month!" he salivated as she took a seat at a table. "For you, my dear, the
best drink in this sector, on the house." He turned back long enough to
shout an order at his brother Rom.
 "May I join you?" he smarmed back at her.
 Jarvis smiled a killer smile. "Of course."
 Quark sank into a seat opposite her and exulted in the hormones flushing
through his body. "How may I serve you?"
 Jarvis halted for a moment as Rom brought something tall, blue and frothy,
then sipped it. Her face lit up with surprised pleasure. "What is it?"
 "It's a Ferengi improvement on Romulan ale," Quark said.
 "Can I have the recipe? After all, what am I going to do when I'm not here
on this station?"
 Quark stumbled for a moment, but quickly recovered. "Of course, my dear.
Is there anything else I can do for you?"
 "As a matter of fact, there is." Jarvis leaned forward and began to
whisper in Quark's ear. As she talked, his eyes grew wide.

 "She's amazing, Dad!" Jake exclaimed in the quarters he shared with his
father.
 "Really?" asked Sisko with an amused gleam in his eye. He remembered all
too well what life was like at Jake's age; hormones surging through every
cell of your body, falling hopelessly in love with every pretty girl you
saw on the street.
 He sighed and brought himself back to the present. "Who is she?" Jake was
asking.
 "Her name is Deborah Jarvis," said Sisko. "According to her flight plan,
she's just stopping here before going through the wormhole."
 Jake's face fell. "She's not staying?"
 "For a few days, she is. Who knows what could happen until she leaves?"
 Jake's face lit up again. "Do you think I should, you know, try to talk to
her?"
 Sisko leaned back and thought about that for a moment. The odds against
her being interested in Jake were, quite frankly, astronomical, but
still...
 "Of course," Sisko decided. "Just remember, she may not be as interested
in you as you are in her."
 "Dad," Jake replied, in that well-known tone of voice which said, 'Just
how stupid do you think I am to even think that I need reminding of that?'
 "Just making sure," Sisko said neutrally. "Go get her, kiddo."
 Jake grinned and practically flew out of his quarters.

 "You want that?" asked Quark.
 Jarvis nodded. "Your holosuites are infamous across the Federation. Of
course I have to try one out."
 Quark smiled. "My reputation has proceeded me. The charge will be -"
 "Don't worry about that," Jarvis interrupted. "I have enough."
 Quark went into ecstasy. Someone who requested a holosuite program yet
didn't care about the price was almost too good to be true! "In that case,"
he said smoothly (or at least as smooth as a Ferengi could be), "will you
accompany me?"
 "Absolutely," said Jarvis as she giggled. That giggle had cost a lot of
men a lot of money at one time or another.
 They got up and climbed the stairs to the narrow hallway where the
holosuites were located. There were ten of them, five on each wall.
Although small in real area, the holographic simulators contained within
them could make the suites appear as large as a planet.
 Three of them were in use by other customers, but Holosuite G was free.
"There's a three hour time limit," said Quark almost apologetically.
 "That's all right," said Jarvis easily. "I intend to enjoy every minute of
it."
 They walked up to the holosuite door and Quark punched in a program code
along with his personal authorization code, allowing the mechanism to
function in the first place. The holosuites were some of the most expensive
equipment in his establishment; just the normal maintenance consumed a ton
of money. Holo-diodes were not easy to come by this far out from the center
of the Federation, so whenever a holodeck-equipped ship visited the
station, it was Quark's practice to buy out their entire spare supply of
diodes. It cost a lot of latinum, but it was better than having the suites
damaged by a customer irate over a diode burnout at the best part of a
program.
 The door slid aside. "The program will start in one minute," said Quark.
"Enjoy."
 "I will," said Jarvis as she giggled again. Throwing one last smile at the
Ferengi, she walked inside and the door closed behind her.
 Quark sighed in happiness, lost in his fantasies starring the beautiful
trader. He almost forgot to turn on the recorders, the most secret piece of
gear in his entire establishment. They kept a constant eye on whatever
happened inside a suite, and safely recorded it in the bar's computer,
coded to Quark's retina pattern only.
 After all, those recordings couldn't be allowed to fall into the wrong
hands.

 Jake reached the Promenade just in time to see Jarvis disappear inside
Holosuite G, and his hopes crashed. Nog, who was Quark's nephew and also
the only person on the station even remotely close to his own age, saw him
and scuttled over to his side.
 Nog saw his friend's bleak expression and frowned. "What's the problem?"
 "It's her," gloomed Jake. "I didn't even get a chance to talk to her."
 "The woman who came in on the Achilles?" asked Nog. "For a human, she's
very beautiful."
 "Yeah," Jake said dreamily. "She sure is."
 Nog glanced at his friend. "You like her?"
 Jake snapped back to the present. "She's terrific."
 "Don't worry," said Nog cheerfully as he slapped Jake's shoulder. "She's
got to come out sometime. And in the meantime, we can see what's going on
in there."
 Jake blinked. "We can?"
 "Sure. My uncle has a setup that records whatever happens in a holosuite.
Don't you ever go into one?"
 "Only to play baseball with my dad," Jake admitted. "He won't even let me
near them the rest of the time."
 "It's the next best thing," said Nog with a grin.
 Jake began to feel uneasy. "I don't know..."
 "Come on, Jake!" said Nog. "You think you'll be a Peeping Tim?"
 "That's 'Peeping Tom,'" Jake corrected. "Maybe later."
 Nog shrugged. "Okay. I'll let you know what you missed." He scampered off
to the secret room behind Quark's bar, leaving Jake behind.

 The stark white interior of Holosuite G faded to mist as the program began
to run. The mist shimmered and re-formed into an enormous bedroom,
dominated by an equally enormous bed that could have held a Roman orgy with
room left over for a few more.
 Jarvis laughed out loud and sauntered over to the bed, stripping off her
clothing as she did so. With a steady stream of cloth behind her, the naked
Jarvis hopped onto the bed and made her way to the middle of it. She
flopped onto her back and stared up at her surroundings. The "bedroom" had
no roof, only walls that seemed to stretch up forever into a misty sky.
Even as she was experiencing it, she was still amazed at the detail of
Quark's holographic programs.
 Then she smiled as her holographic companion stepped out of the shadows
and approached her. She closed her eyes and waited for the ecstasy to
overwhelm her senses.

 O'Brien finally managed to stumble into his quarters, exhausted and
filthy. En route to the shower, he risked a glance at the chronometer and
winced at the knowledge that he had been away for more than four hours.
After the conduit work, there had been half a dozen other niggling things
that had to be done Now, Chief. He couldn't exactly say that he was in the
middle of conceiving a second child, so he just closed his mouth and got to
work.
 At times like these, O'Brien could swear that not only was the station
alive, it was out to get him. How else could he explain all the failures,
all the repairs needed Now, Chief, at exactly the wrong time?
 He had even revealed his pet theory to Keiko, who had merely crinkled her
nose at him (God, how he loved it when she crinkled her nose at him) and
called him paranoid.
 Stepping out of the shower, O'Brien felt a lot cleaner and definitely more
human. Perhaps Keiko would be more interested in him now.
 Theatrically whipping the towel from around his midsection, he pranced
into the bedroom, ready to do whatever it took to regain the trust of his
beloved. It was quite a show, and would have caused palpitations of Keiko's
heart - had she been there. The bedroom was empty.
 Scratching his head, O'Brien hunted around the apartment until he found a
message for him on the living room computer terminal:
 "Miles: I've taken Molly to day care and gone to enjoy a holosuite
program. Keiko."
 He was aghast. He knew all too well what kinds of programs were available
in Quark's holosuites. His wife - acting out a holosuite scenario? It was
almost too much to contemplate.
 Almost, but not quite. Throwing on a clean uniform, O'Brien stormed out of
his quarters and in the direction of Quark's bar.

 Jarvis was in utter ecstasy. Her nerve endings pulsed and roared as if
they had been dipped into a deliciously erotic flame. Her holographic lover
was atop her, moving in perfect synch with the gyrations of her body. She
clasped him to her and cried out in her passion.
 She groaned in disappointment when she felt his weight leave her, but she
did not open her eyes. Even if she had, she would not have been able to
prevent what happened next.
 Deborah Jarvis felt something penetrate her. In a program like this, she
would have expected something along those lines to happen. But this was not
an ordinary penetration.
 It felt icy and metallic.
 It was pushing through the thin layer of skin into her chest.
 She opened her mouth to scream...