In the commanders office, on the operations level, Benjamin Sisko was working behind his desk when the door chime rang.

  With a sigh, the commander set down the padd with the latest reports from the Bajoran government. Most of them were petty grievances about docking fees, complaints about priority scheduling and requests for Starfleet intervention about matters so trivial it was a wonder the paperwork was submitted at all.

  “Come in. Ahh, hello Odo. Come in, I could use a break from Minister Bran’s lengthy and numerous complaints about docking fees being applied to Bajoran trade ships. So what brings you in, has any of the recent Ferengi visitors started trouble.”

  “No, so far they have been relatively well behaved. That bothers me. If Quark has taught me anything about Ferengi, if you haven't caught them causing trouble you aren't looking hard enough. I still have questions about the death of the Nagus fellow. Something isn't adding up.”

  “So what's on your mind?”

  “ I met a human on the promenade. An aspiring food vendor. He and his contraption were blocking a walkway just staring out a window at the wormhole.”

  “That's not so odd, I've caught myself staring at it on occasion.”

  “He was standing there for twenty minutes, I watched him for a bit then talked with him about moving his cart.”

  “And he started trouble?”

  “No, that's just it. He was cheerful. I scolded him for being in the wrong place and he smiled like I had given him good news. I escorted him to the Assay office, then observed him. While in line he chatted with a few Ferengi and all three had a laugh.”

  “That doesn't seem to odd some people are just charismatic"

  “He was conversing in perfect Ferengi, and earlier he spoke to me in fluent Bajoran. No translator either, I had him scanned.”

  “Perhaps he just has a gift for languages, has the man committed any crime?”

  “No, but there is something odd about him. I checked the security logs in the area I met him. The area where he was standing was empty, the cameras failed and reset, and there he was.”

  “I'll have O'Brien take a look at the cameras, but I don't see any need for too much concern.

  I believe I just approved his application for a vendor stall and long term housing. This man, John Egman, plans to sell non-replicated recipes from ancient earth. I am personally eager to try his version of a ballpark hotdog. If it's better than the replicator, I may just be ordering some with Jake before every game.”

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  “Hmmph, I still think he's hiding something.”

  The intercom chimed, “Security to Odo there's been an explosion at Quark’s.”

  —

  Earlier.

  Waiting rooms are all the same. Except when they are not. This waiting room was a crate outside the medical offices. I sat on the crate next to a Bolian named Zim. He is a member of Starfleet stationed here and was waiting for a checkup on a minor injury on his arm he got a few days back.

  Bolians are a race of light blue skinned people with a ridge down the middle of their head. They are one of the original aliens created back in the Shatner days of Star Trek. It was an absolute pleasure chatting with one.

  We eventually got talking about work, and that led to me chatting with him about food. Bolians apparently prefer meat aged riper than most. That reminded me of the time Guga foods, a youtuber I liked to watch back in 2031, aged a steak for four years in butter. As I told the story, I heard his stomach rumble.

  I mentioned to him about my troubles finding a technology to help me ferment food faster, and my love of pickled…everything. He said he would look into it right before his name was called into the sickbay.

  A very pregnant Bajoran woman and her partner walked up. After they checked in with a young Starfleet ensign pressganged into being a nurse for the day, they waddled over to the crate. I stood up and helped the couple sit on the crate. Then I walked over to the nurse.

  “Excuse me” I said to the young man who was standing by the door with a padd.

  “I’m sorry, you will need to wait your turn, things are very busy today. What was your name again?”

  “John Egman” I answered as the tired young man scanned his padd.

  “It says your next, it shouldn’t be much longer.”

  “Actually, I think that the couple that just arrived should take my spot, I am willing to move down on the list to give them priority. After all, I'm just here for a basic checkup, and I don’t mind the wait.”

  “Noted, and thank you. You're the first person who hasn’t yelled at me to get in sooner today.”

  “I think I'll grab a drink while I wait, I’ll be back in about fifteen to keep that crate warm.”

  I did a slow lap around the promenade. I turned left from the medical bay and walked the loop around the promenade. First thing I passed was Ms. O’Brians school on my left. On my right there was a variable gravity gym. Might be nice to get some exercise. I’ll have to check that out later.

  There was a produce stand selling fresh produce from Bajor. I stopped and purchased a bag of moba fruit. They had the appearance of a kiwi sized papaya. I snacked on a few as I continued walking. The flavor was sweet, a sharp grapefruit like tang with a hint of vinegar.

  I was hoping to try some bloodwine from the Klingon Deli, but that had not been established yet. Instead of a large opera singing chef, there was an empty restaurant space. Quite a few of the retail spaces were empty with a couple hanging a coming soon sign.

  I guess I’ll have my pick of locations. Something near the replimat might be nice. The replimat is just a fancy name for the alcove of food replicators and tables. Being located near there gives me foot traffic that will already be thinking about food. That comes in handy when you want to sell them food. An added bonus is that food that is actually cooked is known for having better flavor, and I have a great selling point.

  I kept walking past the future location of the Klingon Deli. Then I walked up to the Bajoran temple, and immediately across from it is Quarks bar.

  Which was currently on fire.