Caretaker - L. A. Graf [13]
"Cash or credit?"
This was too much. As much as he fancied himself a hardened, cynical product of the Federation penal system, even Paris couldn't sit by and watch one of the galaxy's most insidious predators pluck apart a juvenile member of his own species. No matter how much that member so richly deserved it. Abandoning his ale (which was shamefully watered down anyway), Paris moved two stools closer to the barter to comment loudly, "Dazzling, aren't they?"
The Ferengi shot him a look that could have melted a warp core.
"As bright as Koladan diamonds," Paris went on, seating himself directly at the kid's elbow.
The Ferengi almost snarled. "Brighter."
"Hard to believe you can find them on any planet in this system."
The Ferengi slapped his hand away from the case when Paris would have picked up one of the colored gemstones for study. "That's an exaggeration."
Pretending not to hear him, Paris remarked casually to Kim, "There's a shop at the Volnar Colony that sells a dozen assorted shapes for one Cardassian lek." He tossed the Ferengi a look of calculated innocence.
"How much you selling these for?"
"We were just about to negotiate the price. ..."
Blinking as if recovering from a sharp blow to the head, Kim glanced at Paris, then at the Ferengi, then down at the display case still in front of him. Paris knew just how the kid must feel--Paris has once been stupid enough to try and barter with Ferengi, too. He still had the scars. Shoving the case back across the bar toward its owner, Kim was turned and headed for the door before Paris had even flicked an overpayment for his ale onto the bartop. What the hell--the show had been worth it, even if the liquor hadn't.
Paris found Kim fidgeting just outside the entrance, obviously waiting for him. Kim looked impossibly younger even than he had inside, his cheeks flushed with redness, mortification plain on his face. Paris remembered at least a little of what it had been like to think you were ready for anything, just to have everything around you prove you were wrong.
"Thanks," Kim said simply, glancing away.
Paris clapped him on the shoulder, wishing no one ever had to be this young. "Didn't they warn you about Ferengi at the Academy?" he asked.
Kim looked for a moment like he might try an answer, then gave up and only laughed. Paris was surprised at how much he appreciated that sound.
Chapter 3
It could have been worse, Harry Kim told himself. He could have actually been proud as well as stupid, and insisted on taking care of the Ferengi himself instead of backing off when his obviously more worldly-wise shipmate stepped in. But pride--unlike stupidity--had never been one of Kim's big problems. While he figured he ought to be glad for that right now, all he felt was embarrassed, and naive, and young.
Kim glanced aside at the tall, quiet man who'd come to his rescue.
I'll never be that cool, he thought wistfully. Or that tall. There was something desperately unfair about always being the young, adorable one who sparked the protective instincts of strangers all the way on the other end of a bar. He bet no woman had ever kissed Tom Paris on the cheek and sighed, "You're so sweet!"
The walk to Voyager's berth was more crowded and noisy than long.
Kim had arrived on DS9 yesterday-plenty of time to spend too much money at most of the shops, get sick at a Klingon restaurant, attend an extremely strange Tellarite production of The Cherry Orchard (in his opinion, they'd beaten the play up pretty badly), and talk himself into a game of racquetball with a friendly