It was possibly the worst time of all to be a Ferengi.

It had been a good life, before the Empire took revenge for what they took to be an act of piracy. Acquisition was the very heart of Ferengi society in those days, and the Empire seemed to appreciate that principle too - but not in the same way. That became all too clear when warships came swarming over the border, seeding worlds with particularly vicious biogenic weapons and knocking the Ferengi out of the heavens.

One power converter on one miserable back-water planet. That was all it took to enrage the Empire. All it took to render the Ferengi all but extinct.

Those who were in space at the time were lucky - or so it seemed. They survived, so long as they avoided what had been the planets under their rule. Ferengi had to be really careful now, the slightest speck of virus-ridden dirt enough to kill the entire crew of a Marauder in under an hour.

The holdings of the Ferengi Alliance were a graveyard now, but there was nowhere else to go. The Cardassian Union, next door neighbours in the Alpha Quadrant, were in too much turmoil, recovering from the Empire's assaults, to risk trading with other known enemies of the Empire, and the Romulans were too entrenched in their own agenda to notice, or tolerate, anyone else.

Towards the Galactic Rim, nearly everything was Empire, and therefore unapproachable, so all that was left was the uncharted space towards the Galactic Core, and beyond the vast reaches of the Gamma and Delta Quadrants. Coreward space was not without its dangers, though, if the legends were true about the lightless tract of space known as the "Night-Heart". Demons were said to dwell there, and any ship that ventured too close to that territory was never seen again...

Jurn and his son Geln had scraped together a living - no, an existence - for too long, and they were ready to risk everything for the chance at a new life, a fresh beginning. Even without the demons, the Night-Heart was treacherous, with astral eddies springing up at random all along its perimeter, but a skilful pilot could ride them out - with a generous helping of luck. Ferengi liked games of chance, however, especially when a substantial profit was to be made in the winning, and in Jurn's mind, escape was the richest reward of all.

"We're going to die", whimpered Geln as his father hurled their meagre shuttle round an errant asteroid. "Smashed to to bits or eaten by demons..."

"Not while -ugh! - I'm alive, son", snarled the Ferengi, almost overwhelming his small ship's under serviced inertial dampers. The last thing he needed was the boy's whining, especially with the universe coming apart around him. Thankfully, Geln hadn't started shrieking yet...

"Ai! Ai! Ai! Ai..."

Right on cue, thought Jurn, but he did not chastise the boy. The lad had every reason to be panic-stricken, given that an astral eddy had just popped out of nowhere, right in the shuttle's path. There was no masterful steering out of this...

The sudden jolt of impact with the eddy's wave-front took the inertial dampers completely by surprise. Geln slammed against a bulkhead and fell silent. Jurn was pitched forward against the flight control console, and with the arrival of unconsciousness, nothing much mattered any more.

There was no Divine Treasury, no godly judgement, waiting for Jurn when he next managed to open his eyes. There was little of anything, if truth be told, save absolute blackness beyond the triangle of dim purple light, projected from three triangular ceiling panels onto the floor where the two Ferengi lay. There were no clues about the size of the chamber, or its purpose - it could be a prison cell, an interrogation chamber...even a laboratory.

Looking around, Jurn saw Geln lying nearby. The boy didn't look to be hurt, although he was clearly unconscious rather than just sleeping. "Maybe that's for the best", Jurn murmured to himself. If I'm still alive, it must be for a reason, he thought, and if the boy's not distracting me, I'll be more ready to strike a deal with our captors.

Feeling that he had no choice but to make the first move, the Ferengi scrambled to his feet, and called out into the darkness. "H-hello?", he said, as loudly as he dared. "Please - can we talk? If we did anything to upset you..."

There was no echo. That was terrifying in itself.

"We're just two Ferengi!", whimpered Jurn. "What harm could we possibly do to you?"

"None."

It was just one word, delivered with frightening certainty. Jurn had to wonder if anything in the universe could provoke a different response - even the Empire.

Footsteps could now be heard in the darkness. Large feet, but treading with unusual softness. The Ferengi couldn't think what kind of creature it could be - nothing he knew made a sound like that as it moved...

One of the light-emitting triangles on the ceiling tilted away from the cowering Ferengi. shining its pale beam on the floor a short distance away. Almost at the same instant that the beam came to a stop, a short, broad-bodied figure stepped into the light, and brought heavily-browed eyes to bear on the captives.

Jurn was almost expecting the Demons Geln had been so quick to believe in, and the newcomer came as something of a relief. The stranger stood barely chest-height to the Ferengi - hardly imposing, by that measure - but the craggy face, dominated by a large, hooked straight nose, that overhanging brow and ears the like of which one might see if Ferengi and Vulcan cross-bred...

The Ferengi felt a spark off hope flare inside. This one looked like he had the lobes for business.

"Hold on - don't I know your people?", Jurn asked, growing bolder as memory came to his aid. "What're you called again - trolls, isn't it? My people and yours have had profitable dealings in the past..."

"You are mistaken", said the stocky creature flatly, "...in part, at least."

"I thought something was wrong. Trolls are green - or grey, sometimes." This one was a tawny colour, like ancient parchment, much like some kinds of Hu-Man. "What's with you, then? I heard of Hu-Mans breeding with Klingons, Vulcans even. They interbreeding with your kind, too?"

"Humans, and their Empire, have nothing to do with me, or my origins", said the creature. "They are no of your concern, either."

Jurn did not like what he was hearing, or the way it was being said. "S-so what should I be concerned about?", the Ferengi asked, once again meek and fearful. "I-I didn't mean any offence, poking my nose into what's clearly a personal matter..."

The "troll" did not answer. He seemed to be listening to something Jurn could not hear at first, but as the Ferengi concentrated on the surrounding silence, he could only just make out a very faint whisper, his translator implant at a loss to decipher it.

Jurn didn't know whether to be thankful for that, or even more afraid.

His host didn't help matters, remaining grimly silent as he produced some kind of data-collection device and circled the captured Ferengi, apparently taking sensor readings of some kind. From time to time, he stopped and looked over Jurn's head, listening to those eerie distant alien voices.

It was during one of those pauses that Jurn decided he was tired of getting nothing from the servant when he could be talking to the masters. Turning abruptly, he briefly caught sight of a pair of slanted eyes, glowing like living fire - they blinked once, then closed, all without a hint of emotion.

"Who are you?", shouted the Ferengi. "What do you want? Look, we can make a deal...!"

The "troll" was the only one to offer a reply. "You do not need to know", he said in a truly chilling manner. "What we need to know is your primary concern."

"And - and what is it that you need to know...?"

"What information do you have concerning the H'Llarshen?"

Jurn let the word "H'Llarshen" roll around in his mind, hoping it would pick up some fragment of relevant knowledge somewhere. Nothing was forthcoming, so he tried to throw something together on the spur of the moment -

- except that they knew, the very moment the Ferengi entertained the idea. Their presence in his mind was overwhelming. There could have been one or two of them, or hundreds all at once...

As suddenly as the awful sensation began, it ceased, leaving the Ferengi dazed and unable to focus his eyes. he thought he could see many pairs of the glowing eyes, but by the time he was able to see clearly again, they had all vanished.

"Your genetic patterns are unremarkable, and your lack of information about the H'Llarshen means that my masters have no further use for you", said the "troll", and the purple lights shining down on the Ferengi became dazzlingly bright.

Jurn's skin prickled as the alien transporter beam took hold, removing father and son from the presence of the "troll" and his hidden masters, and depositing them both in absolute darkness, but the discomfort was trifling compared to what followed as that darkness came to life and began to feed...