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As soon as the Ferengi left, Anthony let out a long breath. “That went better than expected.”

“Yup.”

Bart turned to look at Commander DuVall and was shocked to see that the station commander was smiling. It was a sight Bart hadn’t seen in his month on the starbase and found it more than a little disconcerting.

“Good work, Mr. Mark,” DuVall continued. “I think we’ve baited this particular fish lock, stock, and barrel.”

Wincing at the mixed metaphor, Bart said, “You mean to say—”

“Yes, it was an act, Mr. Faulwell. You don’t really think Mr. Mark here would go over my head like that, do you?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Bart said dryly.

Anthony chuckled. “Bikk likes the idea of being the cause of some kind of rift between Starfleet officers. Especially if I’m one of them. He and I have—well, a history. That’s how I know he’s got what we need. He’s an information pusher, and this is exactly the sort of thing he’d have access to.”

“I just hope it pans out. We’re still taking a stab in the dark with this whole idea. It could wind up being nothing.” Bart let out a long breath. “I’d hate for us to give away important military stuff for nothing.”

DuVall shrugged. “It’s not like we wouldn’t have shared the data with the Ferengi if they asked.”

“But they wouldn’t ask,” Anthony added. “They’d assume they’d have to pay for it. So we might as well oblige them.”

“Well, good work,” Bart said with a grin.

“Glad we have your approval, Mr. Faulwell,” DuVall said snidely. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do. There’s a war on, you know.”

“I’ve heard that,” Bart said with a straight face.

DuVall ignored the crack and left the wardroom, leaving Anthony and Bart alone.

“So, what say we celebrate tonight?” Anthony said. “Maybe do dinner in my quarters instead of at the restaurant?”

Bart grinned. “Works for me.”

DaiMon Bikk returned the following day with a complete linguistic database of Gamma Quadrant aliens known to the Dominion—and known to nonaffiliated people such as the Dosai and the Wadi—and Anthony provided him with all the data from Starfleet Headquarters on their progress in combatting the Breen weapon, with the promise of more to come. The morning’s dispatches had told of a Jem’Hadar ship outfitted with the energy-dampening weapon that had been captured by rebel Cardassians and brought to Deep Space 9. Studying the weapon itself would no doubt provide the breakthrough needed. Bikk seemed very pleased with this news, though he was not as thrilled with this transaction as Bart might have expected.

“He’s just cranky because we were able to learn his personal bank balance,” Anthony said in bed that night when Bart broached the subject. “That’s the functional equivalent of peeking into his bedroom. But he’ll get over it.”

A day later, Bart sat in the starbase lounge drinking a cup of coffee, rereading an old Van Der Weir, and lamenting the starbase’s inability to do a proper French roast, when his combadge sounded with the papery voice of Janíce Kerasus, newly released from the infirmary. “Bartholomew, you need to come to the lab right now.”

Tapping his combadge, Bart said, “What is it, Janíce?”

“Paydirt.”

Grinning, Bart left his coffee unfinished and went straight for the lab, where the rest of the team was waiting.

“We’ve found our Navajo,” Kerasus said as soon as the doors closed behind Bart. “It even follows the same pattern.”

Bart frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a small tribe of aboriginal types on the Karemma homeworld. They live on a small island in the middle of one of their oceans. They don’t care about technology, or—” Kerasus interrupted herself with a coughing fit.

Novac took over as Kerasus reached into her tunic to retrieve her medication. “They have a ridiculously complex language. The UT can’t make heads or tails of it, but it’s a perfect match for the new codes. All we’ve got to do is build a translation matrix.”

“All we’ve got to do?” Phrebington said irritably. “The universal