The Bitter Pill

Darro's financial choices catch up with him Star Trek Fanfic

Stupid ferengi insurance card. I could barely hold my hands still to pay for my medicine. "Try it again."

"I am sorry human." The 'pharmacist,' a ferengi named DaiMon Tresk, smiled wide. "As much as you know we ferengi love to donate pills to anybody who needs them, I can't.." He leaned forward. "Except, that is, if they're addictive…"

"I'm good for it, I—" I gripped the table to keep my tremors in control. "Promise?"

"Since the fall of the Federation the promise of a hew mon," Tresk laid on the peculiar Ferengi pronunciation, "is worth, as you used to say, 'the paper it is printed on.'"

And hardly anybody uses paper. My lungs skittered out of control as I stared him down. Looking into his eyes, I searched for something—anything—to say.

Daimon Tresk rolled his eyes and his hands, and spoke as if to a little child. "Perhaps you have some little bit of something to trade?"

Tresk's fascination with human culture had been my greatest asset in the days since I left my position with the Orions. Still the collection of odds and bits had dwindled and all I had were spartan, utilitarian, and worse, common. "I've got a few artefacts I found."

"Sure the Vulcan's will be interested." He shook his head as if lying.

The Denobulan, Jellek, offered a slip of latinum to Tresk. "Why such a crude medicine? Surely your people can do better."

I glared at my friend, then softened as I caught my face in the mirror behind Tresk. I did hate to be an ingrate. "We could. If we had access…" The Dominion-Romulan alliance had ruined most of our technology and left us adrift in the universe, aside from pockets of civilization. I would put my katra on the black market for the chance to die on the doorstep of one of those havens. I swallowed hard and accepted the pill with my shaking hand.

Jellek nodded at my tremor. "Is that a symptom of–"

Not the madness, thankfully. "Withdrawal."

"They allow you to put addictive substances in your patent medications?"


"I'll have you know that I am an exemplar of Ferengi ethical-business practices." Tresk straightened the lapels of his jacket. "I can show you the place where he elected the inclusion of fallnerium."

"Oh, Darro?" Even on a Denobulan, the disappointment showed clear. "How can this be?"

I dropped my chin. "I overspent and couldn't afford the dose."

Jellek winced. "But it's not a lethal condition."

"Might as well be." I shrugged. "Can't work without these."

"Surely there are herbal alternatives?"

Tresk smiled. "Foraged to near extinction. The goobers did a number on your people."

Jellik whispered, "Goobers?"

"Tresk thinks he's clever. Cause the Founders turn to goo."

"Ah." Jellek looked at the Ferengi.

I had a kinder thought about Tresk than I imagined Jellek did. The man was providing much-needed medicines where I couldn't get them. Closer to the outskirts, where the havens would be. I swallowed the pill and forced my jumping stomach to keep it down.

"I told you, one more strip of latinum and I can smooth the reaction."

Jellek snarled at Tresk, and lovingly nudged my shoulder forward.

Even after the fall, there were still friendly lifeforms.

***

An hour after I finished my meal with Jellek—feeling at turns grateful and humiliated, as it had been my turn to pay—I sat down heavily on a park bench.

A cheery romulan sat facing the other way beside me. "You aren't looking so good."

I looked closer. Jacob's smile looked ridiculous on that sharp Romulan face. "What are you doing? Aren't you afraid to be seen with me?"

"Not that heavy." Jacob shrugged. "We're not contagious."

I growled. "Wouldn't know it. The stink of desperation…"

"My plan's still open."

I gave him the side eye. "You're not still on about that?"

"It's a gamble, I admit." Jacoby shrugged. "You're not getting any healthier."

"The technology exists." I wasn't going to risk my soul for a chance at a cure.

"Maybe. Somewhere in the wreckage of the Federation." He shrugged, and offered me a card.

I tried to let go, but my fingers had their own ideas. Stage one of the madness? Or just my own mind looking out for me? I couldn't tell. I took it and put it in my shirt pocket. "I'm not trying bootleg Assimilatech."

"Hey, the odds of becoming a Borg are slim." He shuddered. "Sure there's rumors of cadres being recalled to the collective—just rumors.

"Take my chances with the madness."

"Is it really different, being assimilated or going mad?" Jacob grabbed his neck. "The madness is guaranteed."

"Pills proven to work."

"Ferengi science!" Jacob laughed. "That and a bottle of Romulan synth ale'll get you a minute or two of certainty."

He waited a while, and then looked at me. "You're serious?"

My face burned. I looked down. "I'm going to find a haven."

"Don't let me take away your dreams, brother." Jacob had a sour look. "But… when you're ready?"

I growled. "Does it even work?"

"Of course." He avoided my gaze.

"Jacob."

He sighed. "We're there. Almost. With your help, and a bit of luck?"

"Luftmensch, you call me. You're one to talk."

"We're not the first!" Jacob's voice cracked. "I've talked to people—"

"First hand reports?"

"Friend of a friend. Come on, give me a little."

"I've got leads on a few salvage borg bits."

"I was hoping for your technical expertise."

"Not to be worth anything without the pills." I shrugged, and stormed away. "Be in touch."

Jacob groaned after me."Where are you even going?"

"To the Romulan homeworld," I said, flicking his comment away and storming off. I hoped he would just let me go. "Obviously."

The wilted flowers and the barren fruit trees sagged along the way. A skeletal little dog-thing coughed at me when I wandered too close to his leash pole.

I startled at the aggressive noise and pulled at the invisible collar around my own neck—the one formed of debt and responsibility. As the sad little one watched, I looked for its owner. If I thought it could survive on its own—if it belonged on this world—I would have freed it. "I wish you the best."

I used my last strip of latinum to pay the sandwich vendor.
The crisp golden bread and the fine aroma of cinnamon made me smile. I hugged it like a baby. "It's perfect."

"Not doing this for you."

I felt the same way. "You have my gratitude."

His strange eyebrow ridges crinkled. "Like I want that." But his tone of voice betrayed agreement.

I headed directly home.

Blood scattered about the walkway, and dents in the door.

I dropped the sandwich and ran, hitting the panel. "Molly, open up."

The door held firm.

"So help me if your not okay. Molly let me in."

The door beeped and slid open.

At the first sight of her golden bangs I swept her up in my arms. "Thank you. What happened."

"Grandma Elise. She…"

The dents in the door—I couldn't even do that. Th.e madness had opened something terrible inside her. Fortunately, I would be reduced to a mewling kitten, not some nightmare of Klingon bravado.

"They took her. She's gone."

"We'll get her back, Molly. Your grandma will be fine."

"Tell me again about the Havens."

I pushed her away. The Founder's had spared our children. At least Molly. She would grow up healthy and sane. If I could keep her alive in this cold, cruel wasteland. Pa rt of that was hope. "There were a few places that got the message fast enough. They blocked away the founders poison. They kept themselves free, and found a cure."

She hugged me. "It's a beautiful story, Poppa."

"It's real." The tears burning behind the bridge of my nose could not be released, not here. It wasn't just that I needed to believe; I needed her to believe."

"It's going to be okay." She caught sight of something behind me. "Did you get that for me?'

The sandwich had gotten dusty on the ground.

She scooped it up and shook it off. "It's perfect."

I growled.

"Don't be like that. We're not in the federation, and… the enzymes you got me keep me safe."

Best purchase ever made, even if my eye never healed from the cut that Nausicaan made when collecting the money I borrowed. Molly would be able to thrive eating 'food' that would kill an ordinary human.

She bit off a bite of the bread and smiled.
That looked like the restoration of the federation to me.

Then she frowned at her sandwich. "But it's not good enough for you."

"Aw, kiddo. Jellek and I had lunch. I'm good."

"Come on poppa, you need to eat. You shouldn't spoil me so much."

I nudged her on the chin. "Aw momma I'm gonna be just fine."

She gave me her mother's look, only better. Molly could turn back the Romulan warbirds with that gaze.

"You know Jellek. I could live for a week on his meals."

"You don't eat that much."

"Denobulans though, am I right? Jellek especially."

It looked like she bought it. "If I hear that belly rumbling I'll be mad."

"Oh just give me the sandwich."

"No, you told me you'd had lunch." She pulled off a bit of the inner crust, that hadn't been near the dirt. "But I'll let you have this."

I took it and ate it. It had a special flavor that really wasn't in the recipe. "Tastes like love."

"Aw poppa you're crazy." She hugged him. "I'm so glad it was you that found me."

Luck hadn't much to do with it. Nati thought this would cancel the debt between us—so she called me when she knew she'd be lost to the madness. I thought it was another thing she'd owe me but, I'd say having Molly was worth a thousand times what she owed me. "You were a gift."

"You can't fool me. If your engines had been functioning…"

I scruffed up her hair and took the last bit of my bread.