(After all, people had to eat, didn’t they?) But then came the miracle-the reappearance of the wormhole, bigger and more beautiful than ever. Quark had enjoyed three heady days of bustling business following the new station’s dedication ceremony, bustling despite the regrettable assassination of the Federation president. Within the bar itself, however, there was nary the clink of a slip nor the clunk of a strip nor the always satisfying plunk of a brick. The only thing his overly sensitive ears could detect was the muffled hum of the new space station’s inner mechanisms. Quark’s Public House, Café, Gaming Emporium, Holosuite Arcade, and Ferengi Embassy on Bajor was empty, abandoned by Deep Space 9’s residents and visitors alike. Quark knew that sound of silence all too well-but he couldn’t blame it on the rain, or the clado. On his deathbed, Grand Nagus Gint addressed this phenomenon with his declaration, "When the clado isn’t fripping, you can hear your profits dipping." ![]() Every intelligent Ferengi knows that the market suffers during those quiet spells, slowing as surprised businessmen stop working to stare about in distracted wonder. Weather seers, well aware of its effect on the market, call this level of rainfall frippering.īut on those occasional days when the rain slows to a mere widdling, the clado silently slithers into pools and puddles, or disappears into drainpipes. That’s when their song reaches its most soothing tones, prompting Ferengi spirits-and, more important, Ferengi portfolios-to rise precipitously. Which is why Clado’s Call, the game in which players guess whether it’s vinkling or merely melnering outside, remains a preschool favorite.Ĭhildren and adults alike are happiest when the moisture falls in a warm and steady wave. Ferengi children learn early to judge the intensity of a day’s downpour simply by listening to the frippiness they hear in counterpoint to the splatter of the raindrops. ![]() ![]() The harder the downpour, the more the clado’s shrill and steady cry of frip, frip, frip fills the air. The tiny amphibian-no bigger than the average Ferengi toe-loves the rain. When the clado isn’t singing, it’s the most fearsome creature on Ferenginar.
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