The BLTS Archive - Meditations on a Crimson Shadow
The Fifth Garak and Bashir Mystery
by JA Ingram (cjjingram@localnet.com)

---

The other Garak and Bashir Mysteries are:

1. The Cheap Date
2. Sinless
3. The Never Ending Sacrifice
written by myself and Charlene Vickers

Two other short stories have been written within the G/B
Mysteries universe:

1. Kal-toh; Seeds of Order, which is a prequel
2. The Red Uniform, which is a possible look several years down
the road written by myself and Charlene Vickers

Disclaimer: Parafart, you stink and MooreRon and the rest of
you should be ashamed of yourselves for seasons six and
seven. I mean really! What the fuck was with the cheerleader
anyway? Hopefully this will help correct that in some small
way.

Author's Notes: I offered Charlene a co-author credit for
the incredible job she did editing this, but she turned me
down out of modesty. She is an incredible friend, muse, and
writing partner so first thanks, as always, goes to her. I
did incorporate Stephen's color challenges (You look good in
Red, It's Green, Blue Christmas, and The Golden Rule) into
this but I missed the deadline. Garak was being a pain in
the ass. As usual. So, then I added his January challenges:
Figure Eight with a pond (check), Knew That (check),
Electoral College; aka voting and riots (check), Seek Out;
aka the adaptation of the classic trek monologue (check),
and the use of Jake Sisko as one of the main characters
(check).I did not shoot any captains but I did beat the shit
out of a commander if that helps. They're all there along
with some good old hetsmut just for you, so happy hunting
Stephen. Rosha, it was down to the wire but you got your
wish granted as well. I also placed a nod to a Greywolf
written TSU in this, so see if you can spot it. Like I said,
I'd like to dedicate this to Charlene who is the world's
best beta and a very good friend, and to Jonah, Michelle,
and all the children who enter and exit this world fighting.
Only those of us who have seen how difficult that struggle
for life can be by experiencing firsthand its triumphs and
tragedies understand how truly miraculous it is.

---

Once my lover, now my friend
What a cruel thing to pretend
What a cunning way to condescend
Once my lover but now my friend

---

But, oh, it's so evil, my love,
The way you've no reverence to my concern.
So, I'll be sure to stay wary of you, love,
To save the pain of once my flame and twice my burn.

Fiona Apple, "Shadow Boxer"

---

CHAPTER ONE: Conversations in Hell
---

"Garak's coming..." the old man said as he tossed and turned
in his bunk. "He's coming...he has to come..."

"Tain," Julian said in a low voice, "can you hear me? I need
to ask you some questions." He rested his hand on the
Cardassian's forehead and frowned as he felt the obvious
drop in Tain's body temperature. His scales had a black
tinge to them that had him more than a bit concerned as
well.

"Garak's coming soon. He's coming..."

"How long has he been like this?" Julian asked, looking back
at the other occupants of the cell.

"A few days," a Romulan woman answered. "He was working on
making a subspace transmitter from the old environmentals
within the wall and he had some kind of seizure. We've each
been taking turns trying to continue the work but we haven't
got very far. Is he going to die?"

Julian checked Tain's pulse as he answered. "He needs
immediate medical attention. I'm fairly certain he's had a
heart attack."

"You won't get much sympathy from our captors, I'm afraid."

His head snapped around. "General Martok?"

"Those p'taqs are happy to let him die like an animal," the
battered Klingon spat, giving Bashir a hard look as he
stumbled through the door, his left arm thrown over the
shoulder of an equally bloodied Romulan man. "Do I know
you?"

Before he could answer, the Romulan woman rushed over to
them. "Regor! What did they-"

"I'm all right, Kalenna," the Romulan man said, wheezing
slightly as he half-carried Martok to his bunk. "I think
they managed to crack a few of my ribs, but the General took
the brunt of their 'training' this time."

Martok sat with a wince. "So you're Starfleet, are you?" he
asked Bashir after he impatiently waved away the Romulans.

"Yes, sir - Dr. Julian Bashir assigned to Deep Space Nine."
He paused. "You don't remember meeting me, sir?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't," Martok replied, rubbing his
shoulder.

Julian frowned. He knew the General had been replaced by a
Founder, but he also distinctly remembered Martok earlier
cutting his hand open to 'prove' he was not a Founder. If
Founders could fake that... "How long have you been a
prisoner here?" he asked.

"Two years, give or take," Martok answered. "Time gets away
from you here after a while."

"Then that means..." He shook his head. "Oh my God. How many
Founders are out there in the Alpha Quadrant?"

"More than we'll probably ever know," Martok said, closing
his eyes and sitting back in the bunk.

"Do you need help-?"

"Help Tain, doctor," Martok said, opening his one good eye
and nodding toward the Cardassian. "The Hadar will soon be
here to patch up our wounds in time for their next
'training' session, but he's useless to them. They won't
bother keeping him alive, but *we* need him conscious enough
to instruct us on how to modify the environmentals. I assume
Kalenna has briefed you on that?"

"She mentioned it in passing."

Tain reached out and gripped Julian's arm tightly. "He'll
come."

"No, Tain." Julian turned from the General and looked down
at the man on the bunk. "After all you've done to him,
Garak's the last person who will come looking for you. We
need to contact Deep Space Nine or the Klingons." He felt
the man's pulse again and looked into his eyes. "If we build
the communication device I can try to reach the station -
get help."

"We have to reach Garak," Tain insisted. "Only Garak will
understand."

"Understand what?" Julian asked quietly, ignoring the others
and concentrating only on Tain. "How could he possibly help
us? And why do you think he'd even bother to help you? You
of all people?"

"He'll come," Tain murmured, slipping into unconsciousness.
"If not for me then...for you..."

---

His office was unusually quiet today; not many patients, all
his paperwork was caught up. This lack of activity is
wreaking havoc on my sanity, Julian thought, as he leaned
back in his chair.

He fished the box out of his desk drawer once again and ran
his fingers over Garak's gold lieutenant's pips, remembering
his first day at the Jem'Hadar prison camp over six months
ago. He'd done everything in his power to keep Garak's old
spymaster - whom he had later learned was his father - alive
so they could build the communication device and free
themselves. Tain had kept insisting that Garak would save
them, and he'd been right; Garak did save them. But Tain
hadn't been right about everything. Garak had come for Tain
but he hadn't come for *him*.

He hadn't even known he was missing. While he struggled to
survive on some damned asteroid in the middle of a nebula,
Garak was busy bedding his doppelganger. He had been angry
in the beginning, and he'd had the right to be angry. Julian
had been a member of this crew for five years and Garak was
the closest acquaintance he thought he had next to Dax, yet
no one even noticed he'd been replaced, not even Garak. But
then again, why would Garak want to? After five years of
flirtation he thought he'd finally got what he wanted, even
if it was with someone who just looked like Julian Bashir.

He had felt violated at first, then angry. Angry
because...because...

"You still can't say it, can you Jules?" he said under his
breath. "Cuts too close to home, doesn't it?"

He'd been willing to try to salvage something from the
wreckage of their friendship after the initial shock had
worn off, but the other man had cut and run. He'd been gone
for more than two months now, going on three, without so
much as a word. No explanation, no goodbyes. Elim Garak was
now ensconced in some damned monastery on Bajor getting on
with his life, while he had been left behind to see his own
world crumble into a million pieces.

After they returned to the station, during the final
confrontation with the Founder who had been impersonating
him, Garak had almost been killed. As he lay dying, he had
finally admitted to Julian that he was in love with him -
not the pretender, him. Maybe it was the stress of his
incarceration, maybe it was the shock of holding Garak's
limp body in his arms, but for a moment he'd almost said the
words back to him. He had been planning to when Garak woke
up in the Infirmary. He realized later that it would have
been ridiculous. He and Garak didn't belong together, but he
might have done something - said something-

"Fuck," Julian muttered as he snapped the box closed and
tossed it back in his desk drawer. Two months ago Garak had
walked away from a Starfleet commission and their
friendship: so why the hell was he sitting here looking at
those goddamned pips yet again?

It wasn't as if he didn't have other things to worry about.
His father was in prison, and his mother had been forced to
move in with his cousin so she could be near her husband. It
had also been made clear to him that not everyone in
Starfleet had taken the news of his enhancements as lightly
as Sisko had, and he shouldn't expect to be promoted or even
commended in the foreseeable future, if at all. Because of
the Founders' tendency to replace him, he now had to deal
with a new 'point and check' system in the Infirmary where
every sample he touched had to be verified by another member
of the medical staff. And if that wasn't bad enough, the
Dominion War had finally begun. Garak should have been the
last thing on his mind.

But Garak was everywhere. The truth about his abduction and
replacement was classified, so many of the station's
residents not in the know still asked him about his
'fiancé', which had led to more than one awkward
conversation since his return. He'd also had to deal with
being assigned temporary quarters until his had been
thoroughly inspected for any Founder technology or
tampering.

Although it had been sanitized and gone over with a
fine-toothed comb, the space had seemed tainted by the thing
that had worn his face. New pictures, most of Garak and the
two children the Founder had used in his deception, looked
out from unfamiliar photo frames, a few new knickknacks
graced the shelves in the living area, and, most disturbing
of all to him, he'd found several new outfits that he knew
must have come from Garak. After taking in the changes he'd
gone on a cleaning spree and chucked most of it in the
recycler. When he found the clothes he'd gathered them up in
a great armful and began tossing them in, punching in the
recycling code with a great deal of satisfaction - until he
came to the sweater.

The second he touched the silky soft cotton he'd known that
Garak had made it himself. It was a soft bronze color, a
color Garak had often encouraged him to wear in the past. On
the rare occasions he'd bought clothes from the tailor's
shop the Cardassian always tried to steer him toward this
very sort of thing and always in the same almost-flirtatious
way. "My dear doctor," he'd say, "why you insist on dressing
yourself in these dreary Starfleet-inspired colors is beyond
me. What you should be wearing is something like this. This
color complements your lovely complexion so well."

Garak always managed to throw him for a loop when he said
things like that. He wasn't stupid; he knew Garak was
flirting with him and he had even flirted back occasionally.
It had been a game, but holding the evidence of how Garak
had truly felt toward the Founder - no, toward him - it gave
him pause.

He had walked to the bathroom and held the sweater to his
chest. Garak had been right, he thought. It was a nice color
on him. He then went back into his bedroom and hung it back
up. He told himself it didn't mean anything. The sweater was
quite soft and well-made: why be impractical?

That was what he kept telling himself anyway.

He didn't wear the sweater, though; he just let it take up
room in his closet for the same reason he kept the pips
Garak left behind - whatever that reason was.

Julian had been so afraid to face him that he hadn't even
bothered to visit him when he was recovering from his
injuries. Instead, he'd read and reread Okuna's medical
reports over and over again, resisting the urge to comment
or inquire directly as to how the Cardassian's recovery was
coming along. When Okuna did say anything to him about
Garak's condition or state of mind he'd either feign
disinterest or assume the same professional distance he
would with any other patient. He did it so he could keep
some distance; regain some perspective. Of course Garak
would assume that Julian didn't want anything to do with
him, and at the beginning he would have been right: Julian
hadn't. Once Garak had left for Bajor, Julian had been
relieved that he was out of his life, or so he told himself
at the time, but in the past few weeks he had begun to feel
as if he needed closure.

He had tried to send Garak numerous messages and had even
gone down to the monastery once, but he'd been told that
Garak wasn't accepting visitors. Dr. Okuna had become
Garak's Starfleet liaison, but when Julian had asked him to
talk to Garak on his behalf Okuna told him he didn't want to
get in the middle of it. He couldn't blame him. If he were a
young physician just starting out he wouldn't want to be
caught up in his superior officer's unfolding relationship
drama either.

Julian sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing his hand
over his hair in agitation. "Your problem is that you need
to get out of this damn place, Jules," he muttered. "Get
laid, get pissed, just get the hell away from the station."

"Dr. Bashir?"

Julian looked up to see Jake Sisko standing at the door to
his office. He gave the younger man a quick smile, then
looked at the chrono. "Sorry about that, Jake. I guess I
lost track of the time."

He got up and motioned for Jake to precede him into the
Infirmary. "All right," he said, picking up a medical PADD
as Jake hopped up onto the biobed. "Let's get this physical
done so you can get back to that girlfriend of yours, sound
good?"

"What girlfriend?" Jake said with a dour expression.

"You and Ziyal not seeing one another any more?" Julian
asked in a distracted tone as he picked up a tricorder and
adjusted the controls.

"How can we when she's always running off to Bajor to be
with Garak?" He spat out the Cardassian's name as if it were
an insult.

Julian looked up in surprise. "Ziyal has been spending a lot
of time at the monastery?"

"Try all of her time, and when she is here all she talks
about is Garak this and Garak that and-" Jake made a
disgusted sound in his throat. "I mean, I don't get it!
He's, what? Thirty years older than her? Maybe it's some
kind of, I don't know--psychological thing; like she's
looking for something I can't give her but damned if I know
what that is. I just--I just can't get her to deal with
reality!"

"I'm sure that Ziyal is just being a good friend," Julian
said awkwardly as he finished his scan. "Well, you check out
so far. Any pains? Anything you'd like to discuss?"

Jake shifted uncomfortably and stared at his feet saying
nothing.

"Nothing at all?" Julian prodded.

"Actually-" Jake bit his lip in consternation.

"Yes?"

Jake frowned, "I mean it's none of my business or anything
but, you and Garak..."

Julian put down the tricorder and steeled himself for
whatever came next.

"I mean, I know you guys weren't really...together," Jake
continued, his cheeks darkening in embarrassment, "but when
it kinda seemed like you were, Ziyal sort of lost interest
in him, y'know? But now that you aren't speaking to him
anymore--not that I'm trying to pressure you, doc, but--"

"Jake, I don't think this is a conversation I should be
having with you..." he began.

"Damn it! I'm sick and tired of never being able to- shit!"
Jake spit out then rubbed his eyes as if fending off an
impending headache. He took a breath then looked back up to
Julian in apology. "I'm sorry. Honest, I-I just-" He looked
away, his face crumpling with pain. "I'm just under a little
stress right now. Forget I ever said anything."

"Jake..." Julian reached his hand out and placed it on the
young man's shoulder. "What's really going on here?"

"I just...it's nothing. Ziyal and I are just going through a
rough patch." Jake took a shaky breath. "Normal stuff,
nothing big. Really."

"If it's bothering you this much, then it's pretty big. If
you want to talk about it--?"

Jake shook his head. "That's okay. I'm late; we're done
here, right?" He jumped off the examination table and headed
for the door.

"Jake!" Julian called out. "Don't leave. Just talk to me;
let me help."

Jake looked at him then turned his face away, his cheeks
dark with humiliation. "I appreciate the offer, doc, but
it's private. I'll figure it out; just do me a favor and
don't tell my dad that I almost lost it, okay? I need to
deal with this on my own for awhile."

"What happens here is just between the two of us," Julian
promised. "When you're ready..."

"Yeah, I know. " he said softly as he left.

Julian stared after him for a few seconds before looking at
the PADD clutched in his hand. "Fuck."

He put it down and went back into his office. Perreira had
gone to lunch and the rest of his staff was onboard the
Titan for a meeting. He was all alone, which was probably
for the best. Right now he wasn't in the best of moods.

Seeing Jake fall apart like that hit him where he lived.
He'd been walking on a razor's edge himself ever since he
returned to the station only to almost immediately have that
bastard Zimmerman drag him and his genetic enhancements
kicking and screaming out of the closet. He'd dealt with it
the way he did with anything that bothered him: he turned
off completely. Some men drank, some men got into fights:
Julian Bashir turned into a robot. No emotion was better
than having them all rain down on you at once, he thought.
Unfortunately, he was probably past due for a breakdown and
he knew it.

Garak haunted his thoughts and the rage he felt toward the
Founder ate at him more and more as every day went by. Three
and a half months - for three and a half goddamn months he
lay in that hellhole and no one even noticed. What made
things even worse was that the thing managed to not only
earn three commendations while using his face but he had
completely destroyed the life he had spent five years
building. People actually liked the damn thing. Hell, from
what he heard they liked it better than they did him.

//Sisko to Bashir//

Julian slapped his comm badge. "Yes, captain?"

//I need you to come to my office as soon as you're
available.//

"Perreira should be returning in about five minutes. Is that
all right?"

//That would be fine. Thank you. Sisko out.//

Julian frowned. Sisko hadn't sounded happy.

Why did he suddenly feel as though the other shoe was about
to drop?

---

"Six months?!? But sir--!"

"I don't like it either, doctor, but it's out of our hands."

"My father made a deal with Rear Admiral Bennett, sir."
Julian said angrily. "He agreed to plead guilty and serve
two years in prison - a sentence I still believe is overly
harsh considering that Garak was convicted of attempted
genocide and only got six bloody months! And after all that
- after receiving how many commendations - saving countless
lives - they want to suspend me for six months?!?"

"Lower your voice, doctor!" Sisko said angrily. "This wasn't
Admiral Bennett's call - or mine for that matter! This came
directly from Admiral Ross."

"Ross?" Julian asked in confusion.

"Apparently, he didn't appreciate me going around him and
contacting the JAG on your parent's behalf." Sisko snatched
his baseball off his desk and began to squeeze it in a
punishing grip. "Hard as it may be to understand this,
what's happening is less about you than it is about me."

"He's coming after me to get to you? That doesn't make
sense!"

"An admiral's wounded pride rarely makes sense, Doctor,"
Sisko said in a deceptively restrained tone as the ball
whined in protest. "He didn't appreciate my leaving a
Founder to run rampant on the station for over three months,
and he certainly didn't look kindly on me contacting Admiral
Gilhouley about it and leaving his offices in the dark until
it was all over with. My attempt to save your career by
going to Bennett was, unfortunately, the straw that broke
the camel's back." He looked up at Bashir. "Both times you
were at the center of events, and although neither was
actually your fault, the Admiral has decided you have to be
made an example of."

"But six months?" Julian asked incredulously.

"When you came back from the Jem'Hadar prison you were
eligible for ninety days of personal leave," Sisko replied.
"When the report was filed regarding your enhancements, you
should have been placed on suspension until your case files
- all your case files - were thoroughly reviewed by a
medical committee. We didn't do either. "You waived your
leave and Bennett didn't see any need to put you through any
more stress given what you and your family were going
through. Ross is going by the book, but I can appeal and do
intend to when I get back. At the very least, I can ensure
your suspension is cut in half and have it listed as
personal leave in your record to lessen the stigma."

Julian held back a snort. The stigma? As if being the poster
child for hostile alien abduction *and* a genetically
engineered freak weren't already a detriment? But no, he
told himself: the suspension was the only thing he could
control at this time, and even if the 'stigma' didn't bother
him, the risk to his patients certainly did. And the fact
that Sisko was decamping... He looked up at the captain.
"You're leaving?"

"Not my choice either," Sisko said, his face darkening.
"Colonel Regor and General Martok requested that I be
present at the negotiations to hammer together the
Romulan/Klingon Federation treaty. The Admiral accepted the
offer on my behalf." He sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"Not that I wouldn't have gone anyway. This treaty is vital
to stopping the Dominion from taking over the Alpha
Quadrant. I can't not be there."

"I understand," Julian said. "So three months, perhaps
less?"

"I'll try," Sisko said carefully. "Until now I've had a
pretty good track record with the Admiral. If things go well
at the conference I might be able to talk him into dropping
this or we can do it the hard way and launch a grievance.
However, we'll have to face the possibility that you may be
gone for the full six months. But you are an excellent
doctor and your record was impeccable up to the time your
enhancements were revealed. More importantly, the plea deal
your father made was negotiated through Starfleet so there
is no way in hell the review board can void it unless they
can prove you've somehow abused your position. We will beat
this; it will just take time."

"What about the Infirmary? My patients? The research I'm
doing?"

Sisko held up a hand to forestall any further protests. "I'm
on your side, doctor. Admiral Ross," and the man's name was
said with a not so subtle hint of aggravation, "is throwing
up a roadblock of policy at us in regard to your suspension.
However, there are ways around it that are perfectly within
common Federation practice and standards. You're going to be
reassigned."

"On DS9?" What as, he asked himself. Maintenance? Official
tennis instructor?

"On Bajor."

"Bajor." Julian thought about that for a second. "You don't
mean that I'm going to be replacing Okuna as Garak's
liaison, do you?"

Sisko nodded. "This way you stay close to the station but
now your position falls under Admiral Nechayev's command."

"The whole reason this is happening is because you said
Admiral Ross is unhappy that you've continually gone around
his authority. Won't this be like spitting in the eye of the
beast, sir?"

"I'm sure he won't be happy, but since Garak personally
requested the transfer what could I do?" Sisko said with a
triumphant grin. "Fleet Admiral Nechayev's orders are to
keep Elim Garak happy right now and she outranks all of us."

"Garak requested me?" Julian asked in surprise.

"No, but we'll just keep that between us."

A feeling of foreboding came over Julian, "This...might not
be such a good idea, sir."

"This isn't multiple choice, doctor" Sisko said, looking up
at him in mild annoyance. "I need you here where I can use
you. I understand that you have issues with Garak but if you
can't get over it here and now then you might as well pack
your bags and catch the first transport heading to Earth.
I'm not going to put my ass on the line if you can't even be
bothered to deal with a little inconvenience or personality
conflict."

"It's not that, sir." Not entirely, anyway. "Garak and I
haven't had any contact in months. I doubt he wants to see
me."

"Then he'll get over it," Sisko said dismissively. "Garak is
a professional. He knows your work is important to the war
effort and that you need to be here just in case. While
Garak is doing his job I want you working on the Ketracel
white problem. O'Brien has two of his men loading a runabout
with lab equipment now and they'll set it up in the
orphanage's infirmary for you. Okuna is on the Venture for
the meeting with their medical staff so I'll debrief him
later this afternoon. You need to see Dr. Abamandil on the
Venture before you leave for Bajor so pack quickly and tie
up any loose ends before you go."

"Doctor...you mean the counselor," Julian said with a frown.

"It's a necessary evil, I'm afraid. As you yourself know,
any member of the crew going on leave due to stress must see
a counselor for treatment. Just do it and get it over with."

"Very well," Julian said, running a hand through his hair
and cursing silently to himself. "Will that be all, sir?"

"That's all. I'll contact you when I get back and keep you
informed as to the status of the review and the appeal. I
promise you," Sisko said, rising from his chair and offering
him his hand, "we will have this settled once and for all.
This is merely a temporary setback, doctor."

"Thank you, sir." Julian said, hoping, but not really
believing, he would be proven correct.

---

"This is a load of Mara shit!" Girani exploded as Julian
cleaned out his desk.

"I gotta say, this really bites, doc," Perreira agreed as he
set another box of samples on the hover cart near the door.

"I'm not too happy about it either," Julian said grimly, not
even bothering to correct the nurse for calling him 'doc'.
"But those are my orders and we will all just have to make
do."

"But I'm an OB/Gyn, Okuna is a geneticist, Jabara is on
maternity leave, and Perreira...well, Perreira is just
useless!"

"Hey!" Adam objected before reaching for another box.

Girani continued as though she hadn't heard. "You're the
head surgeon - Okuna and I can handle most run of the mill
surgeries but what do they expect us to do if-"

"I'm just going to Bajor," Bashir said, cutting her off. "If
anything happens I can be here in less than an hour. It will
be fine."

"Did you hear who's replacing Sisko?" Adam asked, changing
the subject.

"Shut up, Perreira." Girani growled, pacing irritably.

"I imagine it will be either Worf or Dax," Julian said.

"Wrong," Adam said. "O'Brien was talking about it during
lunch. He said some of the guys on Fig's crew were saying
Ross was starting this new program where we'd be rotating
the crews here with the crews on the ships. Ross said that
every other station did it that way and that was how DS9 was
going to be run from now on, too."

"Did this 'Ross' happen to consider that the reason DS9
doesn't do things the way other Federation stations do might
be because this is a *Bajoran* station or that the captain
was just going away for two weeks at most?" Girani asked
sarcastically.

"I doubt it," Julian muttered, then said in a louder voice,
"So Captain Figueiredo is taking temporary control of the
station while Sisko's away?"

"Nope, some dude named MacKelroy. Word is he's set to get is
own ship but he's taking over in the interim."

"MacKelroy?" Julian repeated, pausing in his packing. "I've
never heard of him."

"O'Brien says he was an American football player a few years
back," Perreira said. "Tore out his knee. After it was
rebuilt he quit the game and went into the service. Mostly
he's a pencil pusher now but he's apparently Ross's boy all
the way. Kind of an asshole from what I hear."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Girani huffed. "What is that
Earth saying? Birds of a feather?"

"More like the Golden Rule," Perreira said. "Ross has all
the gold on his collar so he makes the rules; we just have
to live with them."

"While I'm gone I want you to check on these patients
especially," Julian said, handing Girani a PADD. "And tell
Okuna, in case I don't see him, that I want him to do a
follow up on Jake Sisko."

"Did something come up in his labs?" Girani asked, all
business.

"Physically he's fine, but emotionally?" Julian shook his
head. "He sounded like he had a lot on his mind when I
examined him earlier. Keep an eye on him, okay?"

Girani nodded. "Anything else?"

Julian glanced at Perreira then back at her. "Try not to
kill any of the staff while I'm gone."

"I'll try, but I can't guarantee anything."

"Oooh!" Perreira pretended to quake in his boots then made a
face at Girani.

"I'm so going to miss the witty repartee around here,"
Julian said dryly before reaching into his top drawer and
slipping the gray box containing Garak's abandoned pips into
his pocket surreptitiously. "Make sure to load these boxes
onto the runabout personally. The men from engineering have
most of the equipment already loaded, but I want to make
sure these samples are secured properly."

"Yes, sir." Perreira said with a snappy salute before he
left the Infirmary.

"How that boy ever got this far in the service-"

Julian smiled, "He's a damn good scrub nurse."

Girani grumbled. "Just - get back here soon. It's bad enough
dealing with Perreira but now with Okuna on the way back I
feel like I'm working with the Desidero Brothers."

"Since when do you watch classic Bolian comedy?" Julian
asked curiously.

"Since you hired those two idiots," she retorted. "I needed
the stress relief."

"I'll stop by in a week when I come in for my debriefing.
Hold the fort down."

"Julian."

He looked up in surprise.

Girani, always a formal and somewhat acerbic person, reached
out and put her hand on his shoulder. "The captain will fix
this. You'll be back here in a month at most."

He nodded. "Just a vacation. Thanks Mirat, I'll see you in a
week."

"See you in a week," she repeated, but he saw the look in
her eyes. It was the same look she gave her patients when
she knew there was nothing else she could do.

Julian pasted on what he hoped passed for an optimistic
smile, but in his mind the words resounded: Girani is trying
to be nice to me.

I am so completely fucked.

---

He frowned at the contents of his closet. Dan Okuna had
mentioned that the children at the orphanage were
uncomfortable around men in uniform, but Julian simply
didn't have that much civilian clothing. On duty or off,
he'd always worn his uniform. In fact, all he had hanging in
his closet other than his uniforms were his exercise wear -
and the sweater Garak had made the Founder.

As he brought up the clothing menu on his replicator and
picked out what he'd need, he debated whether he should take
the sweater with him. He'd looked up the monastery; it was
in the northern continent, and it was early spring there -
early enough for the nights still to be chilly and even for
the odd snow flurry to still arrive. As he carried the
hiking boots, jeans, T-shirts, and a few casual sweaters
he'd replicated over to his suitcases, he looked back again
at the closet, then finally pulled out the sweater and
packed it as well, along with a fresh uniform for his
return. He also took out an old pair of jeans he had brought
with him after he had left the Academy. They were his vanity
jeans; he hadn't fit in them in years, but he always kept
them around just in case he ever had the chance to get back
into shape. He took them off the hanger and pressed them
against his waist. They should fit, Julian thought, lifting
an eyebrow in surprise when he realized that they might even
be a little baggy on him now. Maybe Miles wasn't
exaggerating when he told him he was looking skinny as hell
lately. He and Keiko kept shoveling food down his throat at
every opportunity so he didn't think he had remained that
thin after getting back from the Gamma quadrant. He tossed
them in his bag along with enough clothing so he'd only have
to do laundry every two weeks; if he needed more, he could
buy it on Bajor.

If he wound up staying there, that is.

Despite what the captain had said, he doubted his reunion
with Garak would go as smoothly as he hoped. He still had
quite a few issues with the way the Cardassian had left
things and from the way Garak had been rejecting any of his
recent overtures, he figured the other man had more than a
few of his own.

Julian hefted his bags and headed toward the turbolifts. One
way or another, he thought, this would end with some kind of
resolution between him and Garak.

"Well Jules, look on the bright side," he muttered under his
breath as the lift doors closed. "You said you wanted to get
off the station, right?"

It's just a vacation, Jules.

Fresh air, clean living...Garak.

"Yup," he muttered again, "I'm pretty much fucked."

---
CHAPTER TWO: Détente
---

It was still another day before Bashir made it to Bajor, a
fact which  annoyed him to no end.

When he'd arrived on the Titan, he'd been met by Counselor
Abamandil -  Dr. Abamandil, he corrected himself. He held
back a frown at the  counselor's appropriation of the title
"Dr." Although it wasn't common  for Starfleet counselors to
use the title; he supposed that anyone with  a doctorate had
the right to do so, even if it did sound a bit dodgy to  his
ears. But Abamandil had wielded his title in the same way he
had his  air of superiority, looking down at Bashir as if he
were a bug under a  magnifying glass.

Abamandil had taken one look at him and smiled knowingly. "I
can tell  just by looking at you that you are the
quintessential bad patient,  Bashir," he'd said. "Let me
guess; you're the first to send your own  patients straight
to a counselor but when it comes to yourself you'd  wade
through the twelve levels of alkaline hell before you'd ever
agree  to meet with a 'shrink'." He chuckled. "Well, suck it
up, my boy, and  grab a chair, because from what I've read
in your case file I have a  feeling we're going to be here
for a while."

And they had been. It hadn't solved anything; in fact, it
had just made  him more frustrated. But Julian Bashir was
nothing if not wise to the  ways of Starfleet counselors. He
hedged and made the appropriate noises  when necessary and
hid his feelings, a skill he had honed throughout the 
years, but Abamandil was no fool. He'd seen more than Julian
would have  liked - but not enough to ground him for it.

Abamandil had tried, though. He'd kept him ducking and
dodging with his  insights until Bashir had no choice but to
take Captain Figueiredo up on  her offer to use one of the
guest quarters for the night.

It was mid-morning when he entered the gates of the
monastery. The air  was crisp and clean with a slow, cool
breeze, the wind scented with  perfume from the flowering
fruit trees. The first thing that caught his  attention was
how bright and cheerful the place appeared. It wasn't at 
all what he had expected. The last time he'd been to an
orphanage on  Bajor all he'd seen was the sadness that
seemed to be permanently etched  upon the children's faces
and the quiet desperation in their eyes. The  life of a
hybrid child was hard, even among the best-intentioned
people.  Born of two worlds but belonging to no world at
all, the forgotten  children of Cardassia lived on the
charity of the race their parents had  oppressed and paid
for the sins of their fathers with their isolation.

It was different here, though; that was obvious from the
start. Most of  the monks were scattered around the compound
tending their small gardens  or feeding the livestock, while
others supervised groups of small  children, teaching them
how to plant and care for their seedlings. The  Cardassian
features of the handful of hybrids were easy to pick out in 
the crowd, but there was no staring or hostility directed
toward them  that he could see. No wonder Garak preferred it
here.

He looked around until he saw a familiar silhouette dressed
in the rough  work robes of a penitent weeding a bed of
plants. He walked over slowly,  his mind already forming the
thousand possible responses to anything the  former tailor
might say.

Garak's head twitched toward his feet as he approached him
from the  side. "You're late. You missed breakfast by a good
two hours. Pass me  that spade by your foot, would you?"

Julian, surprised by Garak's friendly tone reached down and
handed the  man the shovel. Garak took it without looking at
him and said. "So, that  young lady of yours come to her
senses yet, doctor?"

Julian's brow wrinkled in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't
know what  you're talking about. My social life isn't
exactly thriving these days."

Garak spun around, startled, "What the hell--where is Dr.
Okuna?" he asked.

Julian cursed internally. Of course it wasn't going to be
that easy. The  other doctor must not have had time to
debrief Garak on the situation.  "Okuna has been
reassigned," he said. "I'm going to be taking his place 
from here on out."

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"You aren't staying. Tell Sisko to send someone else." Garak
abruptly  arose from the ground, dusted himself off roughly
and walked into his  cabin, slamming the door behind him.


Julian stared after the closed door as his initial surprise
at the  Cardassian's anger began to feed into his own
resentment.

*He's* pissed? Julian thought. What the hell did Garak have
to be pissed  about? He's the one who... "Son of a bitch!"
Julian muttered as he  strode purposefully into the cabin,
not even bothering with the polite  pretense of knocking.

"Get out!" Garak ordered the moment he burst through the
door.

"We need to talk, Garak," Julian said as he held his ground.

Garak's voice was chilly. "The children are going to be here
soon and I  don't want your presence upsetting them."

Julian looked to the door and tightened his lips in
frustration. "I know  this is an inconvenience to you and I
realize that you don't want me  here, but we need to talk.
Just give me a chance-"

"Say whatever you want," Garak said, turning his back on him
and picking  up a PADD. "You have five minutes and then
you're leaving whether you're  through or not."

"Damn it, Garak!" Julian growled in frustration. He
struggled to control  his anger before speaking again but it
was becoming a lost cause. The  man was being an utter arse!
"You aren't making this easy for me."

"It's not my job to make your life easier, doctor," Garak
spat out. "I  didn't ask you to come here and I didn't
invite you into my home. You  barged in and now you are
demanding my attention. I said you could  speak: I didn't
promise I'd listen. State your business, take these 
translations back to Sisko," and with that he slapped some
PADDs on the  desk near the door, "and inform him that the
next time he decides to  reassign someone, it had better not
be you!"

Julian felt licks of anger curdle in his stomach as Garak
dismissed him.  He watched the Cardassian take two muffins
from a large basket on the  main table and set them on some
napkins. "I'm not hungry," he said stiffly.

"It isn’t for you, it's for the children." Garak glanced up
at him  briefly. "Three minutes, doctor."

"Look," Julian bit out as he approached the table, "I don't
know what  the hell I'm doing - what we're doing here and -
Goddammit!" Garak's bad  behavior coupled with six months of
stress blew whatever logical  argument he had been trying to
form out of his mind. "I don't know what  the hell you
thought you were doing with that shapeshifting bastard and 
I frankly don't care anymore! Maybe I was in denial and
maybe we had  come close to some kind of...Fuck! You make
things so goddamn  frustrating!" He balled up his fists at
his sides and tried again, his  face blood red with anger
and embarrassment. "I don't know if I ever  wanted to be
involved with you in that way, but I do know that there was 
something between us before all the shit hit the fan, and if
we don't at  least try to salvage something from our -
whatever the hell it was that  we had, then that *bastard*
who stole my life wins! Do you really want  that, Garak?
Because if you do then I will turn around and leave you 
here so you can spend the rest of your life wallowing in
self-pity  because you were either too gullible or too hard
up and fell into  that-that *thing's* bed!"

That finally got Garak's attention.

He looked up at Bashir then dropped his gaze to the knife he
was using  to cut up some fruit. He carefully placed it on
the table before taking  a step towards Bashir. "How dare
you." His voice was cold and deathly  quiet. "How dare you
come here and-"

"Do you even know what it is I've been going through,
Garak?!?" Julian  shouted, the floodgates finally opening as
he allowed his anger and  frustration to spew forth. "Three
months! Three fucking months I was in  that hellhole only to
come back to see my entire life turned upside down  by you
and that-that son of a *bitch*! And then, after I *saved
your  life*, you just cut and run and leave me to pick up
the pieces! *I* was  the one who had to pack up everything
you left behind! *I* was the one  who had to go through
countless debriefings and wade through hours of  personal
logs watching that - thing - wax poetic about how fucking 
perfect life was with Elim Garak warming its bed! I was 
*violated*--violated on every level! My private life was
laid bare, my  past investigated, my sexual history bandied
about by a panel of  tight-arsed Starfleet bureaucrats--my
career virtually destroyed because  of something I had no
control over and you--*YOU* had a hand in that!"  He
snorted, his hand slicing through the air in an angry
gesture. "But,  of course, you were too damned cowardly to
face up to it so you took off  so you could play monk to a
bunch of fucking orphans!" He jabbed an  accusing finger
toward the now obviously furious Cardassian. "Well,  bully
for you Brother Elim! Did you ever once stop to consider
what I  was going through while you were down here living
your little home and  hearth fantasy?"

"You selfish, egotistical-" Garak growled low in his throat
as he  advanced upon the other man. "You are not the only
victim here, *Doctor*  Bashir! I had a life - I had-" He
reached out and gave Julian's shoulder  a rough shove that
nearly dislocated it from its socket. "Get the hell  out of
my quarters while you still can, Bashir!"

Julian, his anger rising to a volcanic peak, shoved back
just as hard.  "You want to take a swing at me?" he shouted.
"Be my guest! You think  I'm selfish? How dare you knowingly
leave me behind to deal with picking  up the mess you left
of my reputation and then call *me* selfish?!  Beating you
to a bloody pulp would make my fucking month!" He shoved him 
again, this time harder.

Garak balled his fists, his voice suddenly dropped into an
icy registry.  "You're treading down a dangerous path,
Bashir."

"Is that a threat, Brother Elim?" Julian retorted. "Oh, and
here I  thought you were a postulant monk filling his days
with gardening and  the sound of children's laughter! I
guess it wasn't as good a fit as you  thought, huh? You're a
fucking hypocrite, Garak!" he spat out. "You  stand here
wearing those robes and a Bajoran earring *pretending* to be 
a fucking martyr - you're just another bloody Cardassian
looking for a  way to take advantage of these people and if
you have to do it by  appealing to their religious beliefs
then so be it, right? Just as long  as it gives *you* what
*you* want!"

Garak's eyes glinted with anger. "If this is a
passive-aggressive form  of suicide, Bashir, you should know
that you are coming dangerously  close to accomplishing your
goal."

"I guess that means that the little speech you gave about
being in love  with me all those years was just more of your
usual half-truths and  deceptions," Julian shot back. "The
consummate bullshit artist even in  the face of death."

Garak suddenly went deathly pale, his head rocking back as
though  struck. He turned away from Julian, his whole body
shaking, his eyes  shuttered closed as if he were in pain.
Julian realized too late he had  gone too far.

"For three days," Garak eventually replied, "I lay in that
biobed. For  three days I waited for you to come so we - so
I could..." Garak took a  shuddering breath and turned his
gaze back to him. His eyes were dead  now, his posture
defeated. "I didn't run. You ran first. You made it  obvious
to me that I was no longer a welcome presence on the
station. I  left because you wanted me to leave."

"I never said that!" Julian cried, his ire returning.

"And what did you tell me on the Defiant? That I was an
idiot to believe  you could ever want me! You made it very
clear that you despised me,  even going so far as to dump me
off in the Infirmary and not even bother  to see if I lived
or died. I lost everything - EVERYTHING!" Garak  shouted,
angrier than Julian had ever seen him. "You just acted as 
though it were business as usual! I am not your *pet*,
doctor!" He spat  out, looking him up and down in distaste.
"I'm so sorry that I can't be  there to listen to you
prattle on and complain that your life is so  unfair! I have
more important things to do!"

Julian advanced again. "And I didn't lose anything?!? You
ran! I stayed  - you ran, Garak! You ran and you weren't
even man enough to do it on  your own! You had Shakaar do
your dirty work for you so don't you *dare*  stand there and
accuse me of-"

"Dr. Julian!"

Both men spun toward the door in shock as a little
brown-haired girl  launched herself at Julian. An older
hybrid boy stood pale faced at the  door and looked at Garak
uncertainly. "We heard the shouting from  outside..."

"You're back! You're back! You're back!" the little girl
cried giddily  as she launched herself at Julian's knees.
"Look, Lewin! We can be a  family now! I told you he'd be
back! I told you!"

Oh Christ, Julian thought, his anger fading into a sick ball
in the pit  of his stomach. He looked down at the child
helplessly then back up to  Garak, silently begging for some
kind of answer - something that he  could say or do to get
out of this situation - but the other man only  stood there,
his features drawn and tense.

I don't even remember her name, Julian thought numbly. Oh
god, what the  hell do I do now?

"What is he doing here, Elim?" Lewin asked quietly as he
stared at  Julian with wide, frightened eyes. "You said he
was gone now."

Julian felt the bile rise in his throat as he caught the
boy's  expression. He thinks I'm the Founder, he suddenly
realized. Oh bloody  fuck, this is--

"It's all right, Lewin. This is - this is Dr. Bashir," Garak
said,  finding his voice again. "He was just leaving-"

"No!" The little girl tightened her grip on Julian's leg.
"He can't go!  Dr. Julian said we was going to get married
and be a family! He  promised! You promised, tell them Dr.
Julian!" she said, looking up at  him with wide brown eyes.

"Kela-" Lewin said, stepping toward his sister protectively.

"You can't take him away from me!" Fat tears began to roll
down Kela's  cheeks. "I won't let you! I won't!"

"Kela," Garak said in a low but shaky tone, still obviously
affected by  how brutal their argument had become, "your
brother and I discussed this  with you. Why don't we all
calm down and have a snack and let Dr. Julian  get back to
the station."

"But he has to stay!" Kela insisted, her tone becoming
increasingly  strident. "We're going to live on the station
and Noni will buy us toys  and I can play with Molly like
before."

Garak's eyes flickered toward Julian's, the accusation in
them nearly  audible. Dammit, Julian thought. Neither he nor
Sisko ever considered  this. He'd never even thought about
the way the children might react to  his presence. Why would
he? He'd never even met them - he'd basically  blocked out
the fact that Garak and the Founder had planned on creating 
a ready-made family together. A wave of shame crashed over
him. I can't  believe I just - *fixated* so much on saving
my own arse that I casually  forgot that these children
existed. I have to fix this.

Julian awkwardly got on one knee and started to pull the
little girl  toward him. Lewin began to launch himself
forward, his face a mask of  fear for his sister, but Garak
intercepted him.

"It's okay. He won't hurt her," Garak promised the boy as he
placed a  gentle but restraining arm around his shoulders.

I hope there is a hell, Julian thought as he watched the
boy's reaction.  I hope there is a hell and I hope the
Founder is in it.

Julian hesitated, waiting for the boy to relax before
reaching out again  to the little girl and looking into her
little gamine face. Cupping her  trembling chin in his
hands, he wiped the tears from her eyes with the  pads of
his thumbs as he pasted on what he hoped was a soothing
smile.  "Hush all that crying, young lady. You're giving
your poor brother a  scare and that's not good, is it?"

"No..." she whimpered.

"No, it certainly isn't," Julian said. "Lewin is a little
worried, and  I'm sure that this situation is very confusing
for you as well. That's  an awful feeling, isn't it? When
things don't make sense?" He waited for  her nod. "Did your
brother and Garak explain to you what happened to the  other
Dr. Julian?" Calling that thing by his name made his head
throb  but he kept his tone even and his expression calm.

"Lewin said you were pretend and that you weren't coming
back any more,  but I told him you were real and here you
are," Kela said, her eyes  still flooded with tears.

Julian bit his lip as he carefully plotted out what he was
going to say  next. "Have you ever seen two people who look
the same but weren't?"

"Like identical twins, Kela," Lewin interjected. "Like
Lessie and Bo."

"Uh huh," Kela said, her expression clearing up as she
caught on to what  he was trying to say.

"That's right." Julian awarded Lewin with a quick smile
before turning  back to the little girl. "The man you knew
as Dr. Julian was like my  identical twin. While you were
with him I was a long way away until  Garak came to rescue
me. You see, the other Dr. Julian was only  pretending to be
me. I'm the real Julian, understand?"

"But you're still going to stay and adopt us, right?" Kela
insisted. "I  told the other kids I had a family and when
you went away...I don't want  you to go away again. Please?"

Julian frowned and looked down at the floor, dreading the
inevitable  conclusion to this conversation but knowing that
it had to be said. "I  wish that I could be your family, but
you see...Garak is just  my...friend...and we - um, the
thing is that-"

"Kela," Garak said, stepping in. "This is actually the very
first time  this Dr. Julian has ever met you, do you
understand?"

"Oh." She looked from one man to the other, then smiled at
Julian shyly  and placed her starfish-shaped hand on his
chest. "That's okay," she  said with a warm smile. "We know
each other now and you can live in my  room. You can help
feed Pika and everything. It's my turn but you can do  it if
you want to."

Julian felt his stomach flip as his genetically enhanced
intellect  failed him in the face of a four-year-old's
logic.

Garak walked over to the table and began to wrap the
children's snacks  in some napkins. "Kela, why don't you and
Lewin go take your muffins and  fruit to the hound's
enclosure and share them with Pika while Dr. Bashir  and I
talk, all right?"

"But you said we weren't allowed to feed Pika any more
muffins cause  Brother Reven said he was getting too fat and
it messed with his  'gestion," Kela argued, unwilling to
release her grip on Julian.

"I'll...talk to Reven about it later. I'm sure that one or
two won't  hurt him," Garak said, holding out the napkins.

"But if I go then Dr. Julian could go away again," Kela said
stubbornly.

"Kela..." Garak said in an authoritative tone. "You have
your chores and  the doctor and I have to get back to work."

Kela shook her head. "Only if Dr. Julian comes too."

"Kela!" Lewin said angrily. "Stop acting like a brat!"

"You can't make me! I won't go! Last time I went, Dr. Julian
got  disappeared - I won't leave him!" Kela pouted, her face
clouding over again.

"Okay, okay - it's all right." Julian said, trying to head
off the  storm. "I promise I'll be here when you get back.
Cross my heart."

"Really?"

"I swear."

"And you'll sit with us during lunch and last meal?" she
asked.

"I wouldn't miss it."

"Okay." Kela stepped forward and took the muffins from Garak
then turned  back to Julian to place a sweet kiss on his
cheek. "I love you, Dr.  Julian, even though you forgot
about me for a little while. C'mon,  Lewin!" she sang out as
she bolted out the door.

Instead of following his sister, Lewin looked from Garak to
Julian  uncertainly.

"Go on, son," Garak said with a reassuring smile.

"Are you sure you don't need me to stay?" Lewin asked.

"Go watch your sister, I'll be fine," Garak replied, pushing
him gently  toward the door.

Lewin gave Julian one last uncertain look then walked out of
the cabin  slowly, closing the door behind him.

Julian closed his eyes and leaned forward despite the ache
in his knees  from kneeling on the hard wooden floor for so
long. "How could he? How  could he do that to those kids?
What kind of monster uses children like  that?"

"His betrayal is just the latest of many those children have
endured,  doctor," Garak said wearily. "And unfortunately it
isn't even the worst  they've experienced."

Julian winced as he rose from the floor. "What's their
story?"

"It's not completely clear. Their mother was a comfort woman
who was  left behind after the Occupation. She gave birth to
Lewin in a refugee  camp and was turned out when the others
saw her child and accused her of  being a collaborator.
After that it gets fairly murky. There is some  evidence she
was a prostitute whose tricks got violent. She was 
half-dead when she was brought to the monastery where Kela
was born. She  died of an infection that the prylars
couldn't treat and the children  were eventually sent here.
Lewin was three, almost four, when his mother  died."

"I'm surprised they didn't separate them."

"Some tried. Kela could have been adopted a dozen times over
but the  woman made the monks swear to keep her children
together." Garak shook  his head. "Kela is all Lewin has."

"Until you," Julian said.

"Yes." Garak cleared his throat and walked over to the couch
to sit down.

"I'm sorry." Julian felt the guilt claw at his soul.

"What's done is done," Garak said, not turning around. "You
don't have  to stay. I'll explain it to the children."

"I...can't. And even if I could I wouldn't. I made a promise
to that  little girl."

Garak tilted his head slightly toward him, just enough that
Julian could  see his profile highlighted by the bright
sunlight streaming through the  window. "Why are you here,
doctor? Not just to reacquaint yourself with  the simple
life, I suspect?"

Julian walked to the front of the room so he could face
Garak head on.  "Okuna told you about my enhancements being
made public?"

"Yes, by a Doctor..."

"Zimmerman," Julian finished for him. "An engineer,
actually. Admiral  Ross has decided to suspend me for the
next six months because of that  and the Founder business."

Garak frowned, "In the middle of your research-"

"I said the same thing; they didn't listen." Julian sat on
the couch and  looked Garak in the eye. "Look, ultimately
it's your choice. If you  think I'm more trouble than I'm
worth, I'll go. Maybe...maybe I can get  a temporary
position in one of the hospitals here or the Bajoran 
government can find a place for me. I also...I understand,
at least a  little, why you left. I mean, I still - we both
still have a lot of  anger to work out over this, obviously,
but now I see that those kids  need you and you were in
pain, so you left the station to regroup and  pick up the
pieces. I see that now. With that said, though, you can't 
begrudge me the same thing. I need time to pick up the
pieces as well."  He paused. "The Founder damaged those
kids' trust using my name and my  face. I have a moral
obligation to make that right. If I run from this I  will
never be able to call myself any sort of man ever again.
Whether  you accept me here as your liaison or not, I'm not
leaving Bajor until I  know those children are all right."

"You say that now, but just how long do you think you'll be
able to keep  your promise? A week? A month? 'Fixing' this
isn't a quick cure - you  can't erase those children's
memories with a hypospray. It means making  a commitment and
I just can't see that happening."

"Then you obviously don't know me very well at all."

Garak shrugged, obviously unimpressed. "So be it, doctor. I
want to  defeat the Dominion as much as you do. I have as
much interest in seeing  that you complete your research as
anyone; perhaps even more. You can stay."

"Thank you," Julian said in relief.

"The Infirmary is the second building from the right across
from the  dining hall. Lunch is at one, the monks set out
informal snacks and tea  at four, and dinner is at six
followed by prayers at the temple. There  are no replicators
but you may keep something in your room. Danna or  Reven can
show you around; you'll find them in the prylar's office in 
the community building this time of day. You can sleep in
one of the  cots in the Infirmary or you can stay in the
cabin Okuna uses, which is  in the guest quarters nearest
the gate." He got up from the couch and  fixed Julian with a
cold stare. "I don't want you here, but I will put  up with
you as long as you do your job and keep out of my way."

"I understand," Julian said soberly, then got up as well. "I
need to go  set up my lab space then."

Garak's eyes held some shadowed emotion. "I don't know what
you expected  to find by coming here."

"I-" Julian licked his lips and thought about how to answer
him. "I'm  not doing very well right now. I don't expect you
to care, but...I need  resolution. I didn't choose to be
here like this, Garak. While I am  here, though, I'd like
for us to somehow get past this."

"I hope you find your peace, doctor," Garak said, turning
his back to  him. "but I'm not interested in renewing our
friendship. You're here to  work, that's all, and if you
hurt those children while pursuing your  peace of mind,
there will be consequences."

"I understand." Julian agreed. He hesitated for a moment
then decided to  go for broke. "And what about you?"

Garak turned back toward him, "What about me, doctor?"

"I don't want my presence to cause you...I don't want to
hurt you by  being here, Garak."

"Hurt me?" Garak's answering smile was cold. "In order to
hurt me,  doctor, I would have to care about you one way or
another. I assure you  that isn't the case. Now if you will
excuse me."

At Garak's dismissal, Julian left to explore his new home,
his troubled  thoughts following him as he headed toward the
Infirmary.

---

When mid-meal was served, Julian arrived at the dining hall
but Garak  was nowhere to be found. He sat with Prylars
Danna and Reven, Kela  beside him chattering the whole time,
and was familiarized with how the  monastery functioned.

Reven and Danna were good hosts, very pleasant, and Kela was
a delight.  Garak's absence actually gave him a chance to
calm down and settle in a  little but he knew it would be a
short respite. They couldn't avoid one  another forever, not
in a place this small.

The only other thing that bothered him was that Lewin had
chosen to sit  at another table, ostensibly to be with his
friends, but Julian felt the  boy's eyes on him every time
he touched his sister or spoke to her.

He knew he had his work cut out for him when it came to
earning those  children's trust.

After lunch and a quick tour of the monastery, Julian had
gone to the  Children's Infirmary to check on the equipment
the engineers had  installed for him. After rearranging the
microscopes, scanners and  stasis modules to his liking and
after squaring away his samples, he  took a moment to look
over the medical equipment Okuna had set up in the  main
area of the infirmary.

The monks spurned the use of most 'unnecessary' technology,
but when it  came to the health and welfare of their charges
they were much more open  to receiving technological
assistance. Okuna had brought down a few  computers and
medi-scanners, but Julian thought they could do with more. 
He made notes as to what else he felt the Infirmary needed.
As long as  he was there anyway, he may as well make sure
they were well stocked.


The drug cabinet was a different matter. He suspected that
Okuna had  either shortsightedly forgot to stock the
infirmary adequately or that  he'd assumed he couldn't pass
on Starfleet supplies to a non-Federation  facility. Either
way, he thought with a scowl, their medical supplies  were
sadly lacking. Julian might be a supporter of holistic
remedies  such as herbs and meditation, but an infirmary
needed to be ready to  treat serious infections and medical
conditions that required modern  drugs. Kela and Lewin's
mother was a testimony to that.

"Alomanisil, tetrohydroxidone...bloody hell, they don't even
have a  decent range of anti-virals," he muttered, typing on
his PADD.  "Hydrixodine - I need to have a talk with
Okuna...shoddy, just shoddy.  How can you think to install a
damned medi-scanner and not have  hydrixodine in the
medicine cabinet? I mean that's just basic medicine,  man.
And where is the bloody sanitizer?" He sniffed the contents
of a  bottle marked 'antiseptic solution' and shook his
head. "Lemon water?  Are you kidding me? This is going to be
a long day."

As he added to his growing supply list he looked up to see
Kela staring  at him with her big brown eyes, looking
slightly peeved. "Is there  something you need?"

"It's supper time," she said.

"Already?" Julian looked up at the chrono in surprise. "Why,
yes it is.  I'm sorry, I must have gotten sidetracked."

Kela huffed impatiently. "The bell sounded a few minutes ago
and if you  don't hurry up we'll *starve*."

Julian put down his PADD and grinned down at her crookedly.
She stood  there glaring at him with her hands on her hips
and a deadly serious  expression - he could definitely see
what it was that drew Garak to  these children.

"It's not funny," she said in a disgruntled tone. "Garak
says that  tardiness is laziness and if we don't get to
supper there won't be any  more dessert left and Sister
Marko made *pie*!"

Julian forced the grin off his face and cleared his throat.
"Oh, I see.  Well then, we must hurry, mustn't we? I
definitely wouldn't want to miss  out on pie."

Kela nodded and took his hand, dragging him toward the
dining hall,  chattering all the way.

If it hadn't been for the tension emanating from Garak,
dinner would  have been almost as pleasant as lunch had
been. The food was well  prepared and flavorful, Kela was a
delight, and even Lewin slowly began  to thaw when he saw
how careful Julian was to engage his sister in 
conversation.

Afterwards they were all called to the Temple. It was a
simple log  building filled with wooden pews, decorated with
potted plants and  filled with sunlight that streamed
through large picture windows. It was  not ornate nor was it
as solemn as other Bajoran temples he'd been in.  This
temple was less like the cathedrals in the capital city and
more  like a simple country church you'd find in any small
village in England  or America. The altar cloth was
hand-woven; behind the altar was a large  quilt depicting
scenes of their daily lives, obviously created by small 
hands. This building was a symbol of the home they had
created, and  instead of an orb or holy relic the object of
their worship was merely  the beauty and simplicity of the
lives they lived daily.

Brother Danna, the head Prylar, stood at the altar and began
the song of  prayer. Garak had moved off to be with the
other monks and they raised  their voices as one, the
Cardassian's surprisingly rich tenor easily  audible to
Julian's ears.

He studied Garak carefully. There was no dissemblance in his 
performance, but he didn't see the rapturous joy of a true
believer  there either. In Garak's face he
saw...desperation. He frowned. It was  as though Garak
wanted to believe, wanted something-

Why had Garak chosen this life? It was more than just a need
to be near  the children: that much he knew. It was also
more than just his need to  get away from the station. As
the monks sang a joyful chorus of hope and  tolerance,
Garak's voice, though just as sweet and in tune, held a 
melancholy that tugged at him. He sang as though it were a
funeral rite  and not simply a prayer to the Prophets for
providing them with another  day of peace.

Julian wasn't a religious man, but he was tolerant of others
who were  and he had been to a Bajoran temple before. He did
not believe the  wormhole aliens were divine. He had read of
beings even more mysterious  and powerful than the Prophets
had revealed themselves to be: the Q, for  instance. He
often wondered if there was a connection between these 
powerful aliens, but it wasn't his field of study or
interest. He was a  surgeon specializing in infectious
diseases and biomolecular medicine,  not a theologian.  'I
think therefore I am' was about the extent of his  religious
and philosophical leanings. He had thought that Garak was
the  same in that regard. The Cardassians had no religion;
in fact, their  literature celebrated the fact that the
State had destroyed all  references to the 'primitive
teachings' of their Hebetian ancestors.  What, then, did
Garak get from all of this? What was he looking for?

After evening prayers, Julian returned to the Infirmary and
continued  his inventory, then sat down at his computer to
work. Kela had  disappeared from his side just long enough
to retrieve some art supplies  and was silently scribbling
away, only looking up occasionally to check  on his presence
or to have him examine her latest creation.

Not being a man used to the presence of children (he had
graduated  medical school with honors in pediatrics but had
never practiced), he  failed to notice the lateness of the
hour or that Kela had nodded off at  his desk until Lewin
came looking for her.

"Kela..." the boy said, walking in and shaking her shoulder.
"You missed  lights out. Brother Lum sent me to get you."

Kela opened her eyes and looked around in confusion. "I have
to stay  with Dr. Julian."

"Go on to bed, Kela. I'll be fine," Julian said, smiling
apologetically  to Lewin.

"I'll stay here. I'm not tired," Kela insisted.

"That's why there's a stylus stuck to your face and a puddle
of drool on  the desk," Lewin snorted.

"Leave me alone," she said crankily, wiping off the corner
of her mouth.

"Fine, but Brother Lum said if I don't get you to take a
bath and get  into bed soon that you'll be on punishment,
which means you won't be  allowed to play with Pika for a
week."

Kela glared at her brother, obviously annoyed, but before
she could  argue, Julian stepped in. "I think I can make do
by myself for a while.  Besides, it's past my bedtime as
well."

"Are you sure?" Kela asked uncertainly, her eyes at half
mast despite  the determined jut of her chin.

"You can be my assistant tomorrow after school, okay?"

"O-kay..." Kela said, putting away her art PADD and color
stylus before  getting up and taking her brother's hand.

"Lewin...?" Julian asked, stopping the boy before he left.

"Yes, sir?" Lewin asked cautiously.

"Dr. Okuna's quarters - they're just over there, right?" he
asked,  pointing out the window.

"Just look for three double cabins near the gate. He stays
in the one  with the funny looking sand garden and the weird
tree out front."

"Weird tree?" Julian asked with a frown.

"Yeah. The monks said that since he spent most of his time
here that he  could have a garden of his own but instead of
planting anything he just  put a bunch of rocks and sand in
it and stuck this twisted up little  tree in the middle."
Lewin shrugged. "I didn't get it but the monks  thought it
was interesting."

"Molly's mommy gave him the tree, but I think it got sick
'cause he told  me it was really old but it's only this
big," Kela said, holding her  hands about two feet apart.

"Bonsai. Dr. Okuna's family is Japanese. They have
meditation gardens  and little trees that they sculpt and
prune called bonsai."

"He said he was from Cananida not from Japanese," Kela said,
correcting him.

Julian chuckled, ushering the children out the door.
"Canada, but Dr.  Okuna's race is Japanese which means his
ancestors came from Japan - and  after I've settled I think
perhaps we'll have a bit of a lesson on Earth  cultures."

"Goodnight, Dr. Julian!" Kela said, giving him a quick hug
and hurrying  off toward the children's barracks.

"Goodnight." Julian watched Lewin walk after her and he
called out to  him as well. "Goodnight, Lewin."

Lewin looked at him and shifted his stance, obviously still 
uncomfortable with Julian's presence. "Goodnight, um, Dr.
Julian."

Julian thought about saying something, but he had no idea
what he could  say. It was only his first day and Lewin
obviously needed time to  adjust, so instead he just nodded
and watched the boy head off after his  sister.

He sighed, then walked toward the guest cabins. "At least
the girl likes  you, that's something," he muttered.

When he left the Infirmary, a light drizzle had begun to
fall. He'd left  his bags on the runabout parked outside the
gate; by the time he sent a  quick report to Sisko and a
requisition order for medical supplies the  drizzle had
turned into a downpour. Julian slogged his way through the 
mud and dark to his cabin and rushed inside, not bothering
to examine  the rock garden that Kela and Lewin told him
about. He dropped his bags  and tugged off his muddy boots,
setting them on the mat by the door,  then looked around his
new home.

It was rustic and cozy; simplistic, but one really didn't
need much  else. It was the same basic layout as the cabin
Garak occupied, at least  as far as he could tell: a small
sitting area with a canvas covered  couch, a wood burning
fireplace that hadn't been used for awhile due to  the
unseasonably warm weather, a desk with a simple comm unit,
and a  separate table. There was no kitchen or place for
food storage, nor was  there a replicator unit or recycler.
There were three doors toward the  back leading to two
bedrooms with a bathroom in the middle. He went to  the
bathroom and stripped down then sat on the toilet, reaching
over to  turn the taps.

This is nice, he thought as the tub filled. It was
practically a resort  compared to some of the rougher places
he'd visited. Hell, compared to  some of the apartments he
and his parents had lived in before they moved  in with his
grandfather, this was a palace.

"A palace with hot running water," he said with a sigh,
testing the  temperature with his fingertips.

When the tub was full Julian tossed in a washcloth and
grabbed a bar of  soap from the shelf then eased himself
into the water. He groaned in  pleasure as the heat seeped
into his bones.

"Hot bath with real water, nice little girl who thinks you
hung the  stars - if it wasn't for the fact that Garak hated
you, the boy looked  at you like you had two heads and
fangs, and your career was in the  proverbial crapper, this
really would be a vacation, hm, Jules?"

Julian ducked his head under the water, held his breath,
then surfaced  and began scrubbing at his skin. Garak hates
me, he thought. No, hate  doesn't quite cut it - Garak
loathes me.

And why wouldn't he? For years he basically kept Garak in
the background  like he was something to could fall back on
just in case. Garak risks  his life to save him - losing
everything in the process – "And I'm so  fucking
self-involved that I lash out at him because he had the gall
to  fall in love with me." Julian finished out loud.

No, not quite. That isn't entirely accurate, is it? Garak
fell in love  with Julian Bashir, that's the problem.

Garak loved Julian Bashir, not Jules.

Julian dropped the washcloth, leaned back in the tub, and
soaked in the  heat of the water. He shut his eyes and
allowed the truth to flow out of  him. After all, he was
alone. He had no one to lie to but himself.  'Jules' put up
with a lot of things from Julian, but never that.

Jules was the last bit of conscience he had.

It was Jules who spoke when Julian wanted nothing more than
to hide from  the inconvenient truth.

Like right now.

"You're pissed off because you were so good at hiding who
you were that  even Garak couldn't tell the difference
between the real you and the  identity you manufactured."

Everything he had learned in the aftermath of the Founder's
death had  revealed that to him. The Founders only knew what
Julian himself said on  his personal logs. He had created
that thing, supplied it not with who  he was but who he
wanted the world to think he was. So, instead of the 
Founder being Jules Bashir, the son of a frequently
out-of-work father  and a mother who was so meek and shy she
allowed her husband to  virtually ruin them, he became
Julian Bashir, privileged son of two  dynamic and successful
people who loved their perfect son more than  anything.

The Founders had been so off-base with their ruse it was
ridiculous. At  least it would have been ridiculous had
Julian not hidden 'Jules' for so  long. No one even
questioned it. No one.

And it was all his own fault. Not Garak's, his.

He had told his parents he hadn't called himself 'Jules' for
years - and  publicly, he hadn't. 'Jules' was the identity
he kept hidden, but it was  what he called himself in
private. 'Jules' was whom he confessed to,  whom he
conspired with: 'Jules' was whom he would never, could never 
stop being.

And had he let Jules out of the closet just once, just
showed the world  who he was, none of this would have
happened.

Jules was always his toughest critic as well.

He reached for the small shampoo bottle and washed his hair
quickly, his  eyes tight shut. So why was he so mad at
Garak? After all, how could he  have known?

Because, damn it, he should have known. Perhaps everyone
else had been  fooled, but Garak wasn't just anyone else. 
He was a fucking spy, for  Christ's sake! His whole life had
been about deception - he should have  seen through that
thing. After all, he confessed that he'd always known  about
the enhancements, right? Well, the Founder had said he did,
but  Garak hadn't denied it. What had he been thinking?
There must have been  clues, missteps in the thing's
behavior. Some part of him still couldn't  understand how
that had happened - how Garak's perspective had become so 
skewed that he hadn't seen it.

He rinsed off and got out of the tub, snatching a thick
towel from the  shelf over the toilet as he finger-combed
his hair and padded over to  the sink, his footsteps leaving
neglectful puddles on the floor. He  looked in the mirror
and scowled as he wrapped the towel around his  waist. Just
admit it. Admit it and move on.

Garak had fallen in love with Julian Bashir, but the man in
the mirror  wasn't Julian Bashir, is he? There was no Julian
Bashir. The Founder was  closer to being that man then
'Julian' ever was. Garak, smart and  cunning though he was,
fell for a lie. He didn't want Jules, the tough, 
street-smart cockney who'd had to fight for everything he
earned: he  wanted Julian, the paper-thin veneer of witty
West End urbanity whose  posh accent was 'plus royal que le
roi lui-meme'. No, the true man  behind the fiction was
definitely not Elim Garak's type. He was more  like ginger
beer or oatmeal stout than fine kanaar. How could he compete 
with a man he himself created? The answer is: he couldn't.

So that was that. End of story. Time, gentlemen; the pub is
closed and  the taps have run dry.

Julian snorted and walked into the main room to get his
shaving kit,  pulling out his toothbrush as he returned to
the sink.

He examined his face again before switching on the brush and
briefly  considered shaving but decided against it. It was
late and he was tired.  Stubble was one of the perks of his
sort-of suspension anyway, right?  That and jeans with
running shoes. Life was a fucking cabaret.

He brushed his teeth quickly and rinsed his mouth. After
using a second  towel to mop up the floor, he went back in
the main room for his bags  and pulled them into the room
that didn't contain any of the things  Okuna had left
behind. He made a mental note to comm Okuna and see if he 
wanted him to bring him his things at the end of the week.

The room was cool but not cold. There were clever vents
built above the  windows to bring in fresh air without
allowing in the rain which was  pounding and howling against
the walls of the small house. A slow-moving  ceiling fan
supplied the rest of the air circulation. Julian dragged in 
his bags and stacked them in the corner. He opened up the
largest bag  and rummaged around until he found his favorite
pair of worn in pajamas.  Being a doctor on a space station
had taught him never to go to bed  without being fully
clothed. Between the red alerts and the occasional 
uninvited guest standing over him as he slept, he'd become a
bit  paranoid about doing so, in fact. He also frequently
changed his door  security code...not that it seemed to
help.

He got into bed and closed his eyes, listening to the
howling wind and  the scrape of the trees against the
shutters. He was tired, exhausted  both mentally and
physically, but he couldn't sleep.

He punched the pillow under his head and attempted to settle
in.

His mind wandered back to the night he had awoken to find
Garak staring  at his sleeping form. How long he'd been
there he had no idea. It may  have only been seconds, but
somehow he didn't think so. It had been an  uncomfortable
feeling, the idea of Garak staring at him as he slept, but 
he hadn't been afraid. Even after he knew what Garak was,
what he was  capable of, he had never feared him. Perhaps it
was like tugging a tiger  by the tail and hoping he was
tamed, but even now, even with the  wreckage of their
friendship between them, he was drawn to the man.

What was it that kept him tied to Elim Garak? Why couldn't
he just let  him go?

Competition.

That was it. Julian didn't like losing anything, and he
especially  didn't like it when someone else put their hands
on his toys. Childish  though it may be, Garak was *his*. He
found him, he put up with the man  for five years, he
listened to every lie, half-truth, and innuendo - so,  what?
He was supposed to just accept that the Founder waltzed onto
his  turf and staked a claim on what, by rights, belonged to
him? Fuck that!  He had put in the time and the effort.
Whether he ever intended to do  anything about it was his
choice, not that of some pile of sentient  gelatin! And now,
thanks to Jelly Boy, he was stuck on Bajor - well,  exiled
really - and forced to deal with emotions he'd really rather
not  confront.

Julian shut his eyes tighter and rolled onto his side. It
wasn't fair.  None of this was fair. Life wasn't fair, of
course, but this was especially-

The door of his bedroom opened; someone was crossing the
room toward  him. He froze.

"Garak?" he said, opening his eyes.

"I had a bad dream."

Julian sat up in bed and turned on the lamp, wincing as the
light  flooded the room. "Kela." He squinted at her and took
in her bare, muddy  feet, wet hair and nightie, and the
soggy stuffed wompat doll clutched  in her hand. "What-?"

"I dreamed that you got lost again," she said, stepping
closer. "So I  got woked up and came to make sure you were
okay."

"You came all the way over here in the rain?"

"Uh huh. I'm cold," she said, shivering.

"Okay..." Julian looked around and tried to think. "Okay,
you need a  bath." He got up and took her hand, leading her
to the bathroom, where  he put the stopper in the tub and
turned on the taps, testing the water  as he did so. "You're
four, right?"

"Uh huh, but I'll be five in a little while."

"Do you know how to take a bath by yourself?"

"I'm not a baby, you know," she said irritably. "I'm
*four*."

"I'm sorry, you're right." Julian held up his hands in
apology. "You're  a very big girl."

"No, I'm still little. I just know how to take a bath by
myself. You've  had a long day, huh, Dr. Julian?" She gave
him a pitying look.

"Actually, I really have," Julian answered honestly and
rubbed the back  of his neck. "Um, okay; you need to get
undressed." He looked around the  room and pointed to the
hamper. "Just take off your...gown and other,  you know,
things, and put them in there and I'll be outside if you
need  anything."

"Okay," Kela said as she began to pull her nightgown over
her head  before Julian could even close the door.

He shut the door quickly, leaning against it as he tried to
figure out  what to do next. He was never very good with
children one on one.  Patients who were children, yes.
Children in general, no. Especially not  little girls who
acted like miniaturized versions of Garak.

"Think, Jules," he muttered, "you're a strange man and a
guest in a  monastery with a naked little girl in your
quarters in the middle of the  night. Now what?" He rubbed
his hand over his mouth and tried to think  of what his next
move should be. "She needs something to wear but her  things
are dirty. What do you do? T-shirt!"

Julian went over to his bag and started to pull out clothes,
tossing  them aside as he went. "No, no, no - damn. These
will swallow her whole.  She needs something smaller."

He walked into the living area and stared at the door. God,
he was going  to have enough to explain without compounding
things by walking into the  children's dormitory in the
middle of the night looking for a nightie.  Not good.

So not good.

You're making a bigger deal of this than you need to, he
told himself.  Just think. Get those enhanced neurons
firing, man!

He walked over to the bathroom door, paused, then knocked
hesitantly.  "Kela?"

He heard a huge splash and some bubbling laughter. "Uh huh?"

"You okay in there?"

"I made bubbles with the shampoo!" Another splash.

"How much shampoo did you use?"

"All of it!" More splashes. "It made BIG bubbles!"

"Yeah, okay, great." Julian rolled his eyes and grimaced.
"Just...don't  get any in your eyes, okay?"

"I won't!" SPLASH!

"Kela?"

"Uh huh?"

"Does Garak have any of your clothes in his cabin?"

"I don't know. I think so."

"Will you be okay by yourself for a while?"

"Dr. Julian! I told you, I'm not-

"A baby. I got that," Julian finished for her. "Okay, I'm
going to go  find you something to wear. You stay here and-"

There was another big splash and Julian looked down to see
water running  from under the door and pooling at his feet.

"Try to keep at least some of the water *in* the tub, okay?"

"Oh-Kay!" More bubbly giggles followed.

Julian found a torch and shoved his bare feet into his
boots, then  headed out toward Garak's cabin. By the time he
got there he was wishing  he had bought a raincoat from Ajaz
and vowed to pick one up the next  time he was on the
station.

Rain.

One didn't normally encounter rain on a space station so
naturally he'd  never thought of the possibility that he'd
be stuck in the middle of the  night looking for children's
pajamas in the middle of a bloody monsoon.

"Your parents deserve a refund, Jules. You're definitely not
quite as  advertised. Bloody hell - Garak!" He knocked on
the door. "Garak! Open  up - I need some help!"

He waited a second then knocked again. "Garak!"

The sound of the rain and the howling of the wind were
drowning out his  voice. He wiped the water out of his eyes
with the back of his fist that  was clutching the torch and
tried knocking again. "Garak! Come on, man!  I'm freezing my
bloody balls off out here!"

He reached for the doorknob and turned it experimentally.
The knob  turned easily. A gust of wind blew through and he
lost his grip causing  the door to open with a crash. "Oh
shit! Sorry!" Julian said, wincing as  he walked into
Garak's cabin, flicking on the light and placing his  torch
on the desk.

Julian waited at the threshold for Garak to come out of his
bedroom in a  rage, but nothing happened.

He looked around, shutting the door firmly behind him then
walked toward  Garak's bedroom door. He knocked, "Garak?"

Still nothing.

Maybe he's not home? Julian thought. But it was the middle
of the night,  where else would he...

Oh.

Julian felt a prickle of irritation. He hadn't had sex in
six months -  hell, he couldn't even remember the last time
he'd had so much as a good  wank in the bloody shower - and
Garak was getting laid in a fucking  monastery! Oh yeah,
he's really torn up about the whole making a fool of 
himself over me thing. Shithead.

He swung open the door to Garak's bedroom, intending to
search around  for something Kela could wear when he saw
something move from the corner  of his eyes.

Garak was lying in bed, his chest bare and the covers
bunched at his  waist. He appeared to be in the throes of a
vivid dream, his body bathed  in a light sweat and his face
contorted in either pain or ecstasy.

 From the way the man was gripping the sheets and babbling
in his sleep,  Julian was betting on pain. He was having a
hell of a nightmare.

"Garak." Julian walked over to the bed. "Garak! Wake up!"

He was muttering in his sleep, "no no no no no..."

"Garak?" He gave his shoulder a tentative shake.

"-wake up Anwen, don't leave me, don't go, noooo-"

"Garak!" Julian said sharply.

Garak sat bolt upright in the bed, his eyes wild and his
chest heaving.  Julian jumped back and waited for the man to
acknowledge his presence.

Garak pulled his knee up, resting his elbow on it as he
attempted to  catch his breath. After a moment he turned to
Julian and squinted in  confusion, "What-?"

"Payback's a bitch," Julian said in a feeble attempt to fill
the silence.

"I'm really not in the mood for this, doctor," Garak said in
a  sleep-graveled voice.

"Sorry." Julian shifted from one foot to the other. "Kela -
she had a  bad dream. Um, she showed up in my cabin soaked
to the bone so I had her  take a bath but I don't have
anything for her to change into..."

"I think I have something," Garak said, clearing his throat.
He swung  his legs over the side of the bed.

Julian turned away quickly as the covers fell away revealing
an even  greater degree of nakedness than he was expecting.
"Sorry - I'll, um.  I'll just go."

As he hurried into the living area he thought, Garak sleeps
in the nude?

Garak sleeps in the nude.

Garak. In the nude.

I. Am. Completely. Mortified, a voice in the back of his
head said.

And yet there was that other voice that said, Garak is in
really good  shape. *Really* good shape.

And naked.

Julian had seen Garak in various states of undress before,
during  surgery and physicals, but the miracle of modern
medicine meant that  doctors rarely had to examine their
patients unclothed any more. They  could even perform
bloodless surgery, so he'd seen some of what he  saw...just
not all of it at the same time.

Well, there was the video surveillance on the station. After
Garak and  Worf had rescued them from the prison asteroid,
they were forced to  return to the station and pretend that
they weren't aware of the  Founder's ruse. When the Founder
had attempted to seduce Garak he'd gone  along with it as
best he could. Unable to get an erection, he instead 
distracted the shapeshifter by performing fellatio to keep
up the  facade. It wasn't the most pleasant memory,
especially given the pain  and humiliation he'd seen
reflected in the other man's face...

"Doctor."

Julian jumped and turned. "Um, sorry - yes?"

Garak was in a robe and sleep pants, the vee of the robe
revealing that  he was still naked from the waist up. He
held out a gown along with some  socks and a pair of
panties. "I always keep extra play clothes here for  the
children, especially for Kela. She has a tendency to attract
dirt. I  was making her some embroidered nightgowns for her
birthday next month  so I had this on hand."

"It's pretty." Julian had no clue what to say as he accepted
the blue  satin gown but 'it's pretty' was what came out.
His face glowed an even  deeper red than before.

Garak either didn't notice or merely ignored it. "I had a
great deal of  material left over from a dress I made her
for-" Garak stopped and  clenched his jaw. He tore his eyes
off of the gown now held in Julian's  hands and asked, "You
said you gave her a bath?"

"Well, she gave herself a bath, but yes. In fact, she was
still in it  when-" Julian watched as a pained expression
crossed Garak's face. "What?"

"You left her alone in the tub?" Garak shook his head and
sighed, then  headed toward the bathroom. "Of course you
did."

"Was that wrong? She's not going to drown or anything, is
she?" Julian  asked, following Garak.

"No, but the floors of the guest quarters will never be the
same again."  Garak came out with an armful of towels. "Lead
the way, doctor."

---

Julian stacked a small pile of wood in the fireplace and lit
it with the  tinderbox he found on the mantle while Garak
dried Kela's hair with a  towel, another tied around her
like a sarong.

"And it made HUGE bubbles! You never let me make bubbles in
your tub!"

"That's because I know better," Garak said wryly. "Tomorrow,
young lady,  we are going to have a long talk about getting
out of your bed in the  middle of the night and also about
you dumping all that bathwater out of  the tub."

"I was popping the bubbles," Kela said in a matter-of-fact
tone.

"And you know better since I, myself, have told you not to
splash water  onto the floor how many times?"

"A whole lot."

"A whole lot," Garak agreed. "Now let's get you dressed and
now that the  rain has stopped we'll head over to my cabin
and let Dr. Julian get some  sleep, all right?"

"No."

"Kela..."

"I want to stay here with Dr. Julian."

"Kela, I've had just about enough of this-"

"It's okay, Garak," Julian interrupted. "She can stay in
Okuna's room  tonight."

"I don't know," Garak said with a frown.

"It's late and it doesn't make any sense to drag her back
out into that  weather," Julian argued.

Garak shook his head. "I don't want it to look as though
we're condoning  this type of behavior."

"I understand that, and normally I'd agree, but it's late
and we're all  tired. In fact, if you want you could use Dr.
Okuna's room yourself and  we can make up the couch for Kela
in here."

"I can make it to my own quarters, thank you doctor," Garak
said with a  cool edge to his voice. He picked Kela up in
one arm and gathered her  gown in his free hand, leading
toward the bedroom saying, "I'm going to  settle her in for
the night."

"Goodnight, Dr. Julian!" Kela called out over Garak's
shoulder.

"'Night," Julian said, waving back.

Julian waited by the couch, soaking up the heat of the fire
as he  listened to the mumble of Kela's and Garak's voices
through the door.  Several minutes later Garak emerged,
shutting the door behind him  quietly. When he saw Julian
waiting for him, he froze. "Doctor."

"We need to talk."

"No, we don't," Garak said, heading for the front door.
"Goodnight doctor."

"Garak," Julian said, stepping forward. "Please."

It was as though the word 'please' was the magic word his
mother always  told him it was. Garak's hand froze on the
knob but he didn't turn  around. "I'm tired."

"So am I," Julian said, taking another step toward him. "I'm
so bloody  sick and tired of ducking and dodging the issue.
Aren't you? Can't we  just fucking settle this and move on?"

"Let it go, doctor."

"I'd love to. You first," Julian said in a challenging tone.

Garak turned to him, his face gray and bereft of emotion.
"When I look  at you, I see him. Can you understand that?"

"No," Julian said honestly. "I probably should, but I don't.
I can't.  The Julian Bashir - that Julian Bashir - he's
nothing like me. That  wasn't me, Garak. I didn't do
anything wrong except survive." He took  another step toward
the other man. "I handled the situation badly. I  know that
and I'm sorry, but life is too short - too goddamn short -
to  waste the next however the hell many months acting like
I have something  to apologize for. I did not do anything to
you-" Garak opened his mouth  as if to speak and Julian cut
him off. "-I know, I chickened out and  left you alone in
the Infirmary, but I never abandoned you. Okuna kept  me
informed of your progress the whole time."

Garak fell silent as he seemed to mull that over.

"I won't lie to you, I wanted to put some distance between
us - gain  some perspective. It took me a while but - fuck,
I was gone for three  months and everything I once thought
about myself, my position on DS9,  everything - all of it
changed, Garak. Cut me some slack: at least give  me credit
for not going insane!"

"Fine, you have a point." Garak looked him in the eye. "But
as you  pointed out to me once before, our relationship
previous to your  abduction was one of platonic friendship.
You now have an advantage over  me, doctor. You know now
that what I felt toward you was not mere  friendship and
you've also seen me at my most vulnerable, whereas I  don't
know you at all. You say that everything I thought I knew is
a  lie. I can accept that, I can even admire the fact that
you managed to  conceal yourself as well as you did, but we
cannot be friends now.  Surely you can understand why."

"Then what else can we be, Garak?" Julian asked quietly.

Garak didn't answer. He merely stared at him for a long
moment before  opening the door and walking out into the
night.

---
CHAPTER THREE: The Alpha and The Omega
---

"Zee, baby, please."

Ziyal sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
She reached down to pick up Jake's shirt which was lying on
the floor and slipped it on. "Can we not talk about this
again, Jake? Can't we just...just be together and not talk
about it?"

His voice was gentle. "We have to talk about it," he said,
letting his hand rest on her arm as he sat up. "It's not
going to go away on its own."

She turned to him. "Do you want me to terminate-"

"No!" he cried. "That's the last thing I want." He wrapped
his arms around her waist, his hands skimming her belly. "I
love you and I want us to be married and have the baby. I
just wish you'd stop running away from this - from me."

"I'm not running away. I just - I don't think this is a good
idea."

"The baby?" he asked softly.

"No," she answered. "Talking about us getting married. I
already told you that you don't have to do that."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't mean it, Zee."

She peeked out at him through her hair, her eyes bright with
anxiety. "It's not a good idea. Your father-"

Jake placed a gentle hand on her abdomen. "What did I say to
you the first time I asked you out? When you said no?"

"Jake..."

"What did I say?" he prodded. "Do you remember? I followed
you around for hours that day, I practically stalked you."

She leaned into his embrace. "I was so angry. You wouldn't
stop following me around and I told you to stop pestering
me."

"And what did I say?"

"'Sorry, pretty lady, but where you go, I go. That's the way
it's going to be from now on because...because I'm never as
happy as I am when I look at you,'" she said, smiling in
spite of herself. "You'd known me ten minutes and already
you were spouting the most horrendous lines at me."

"And you laughed in my face, but I meant every word of it."
He took her hand. "You are my future, Tora Ziyal, whether
you like it or not. I'm not leaving, Zee. I'm not letting
go. You can keep trying to push me away but it isn't going
to happen. Why can't you trust me enough to let me in? I'm a
part of this, it's happening to both of us."

"No, Jake." Ziyal pulled away from him, wrapping her arms
around herself. "You wouldn't be asking if-"

"Zee, I would have married you the first week we were
together if you would have agreed to it," he said. "Damn it,
girl! You should already know that."

She closed her eyes. "It's just...I - I'm scared."

"I know you are. And you know what? So am I. I nearly lost
it the other day in the Infirmary. Doctor Bashir nearly had
to sedate me!"

She spun around and looked up at him. "You didn't tell him,
did you?" she said, her eyes full of fear. "If he-"

"Of course not," he replied. "You know I wouldn't."

She swallowed. "I just...I don't want Garak to find out."

A muscle jumped in Jake's jaw. "Garak."

"You don't understand."

"You're right; I don't understand. How can I understand when
you never tell me anything? Every time I turn around you're
running off to Bajor to spend time with him!" His eyes
suddenly narrowed. "Are you and he-"

"No!" she cried, horrified. "Prophets, no! I've told you,
Jake - Garak and I just talk."

"About what? What can you tell him that you can't tell me?"

"It's not - it's not what we talk about, Jake. It's the
*way* he talks to me, do you understand?" She looked at him
with wide, pleading eyes.

"No. Explain it to me."

"When Garak talks to me he looks at me - at *me*," she said,
leaning against his chest. "Not at Dukat's daughter or some
hybrid that should have been put down at birth, but me. He's
the only person who's ever done that."

"And I don't?"

She sighed. "I love you, Jake, I do, but Garak..."

"What?" Jake said, pressing on.

She looked up at him, just for a moment. "When I was a
little girl I used to dream of my father. I know what he is
- even then I knew - but I had this stupid fantasy about him
sweeping down from the sky and just reaching out to me. I
wanted a father, Jake, like your father; I wanted someone to
love me and accept me for who I am, not what I am or where I
came from."

"And Garak does that?" Jake asked doubtfully.

"He never judged me, he never looked at me like I was
something to be ashamed of or like I wasn't good enough."
She paused. "I'm not stupid; I know he only started talking
to me to annoy Father. After a while, though, it stopped
being about that. It's like by talking to me he got
something back as well. Even now, even though he's on Bajor
and has other kids to look after, he still makes time for
me."

"Then why don't you want him to know about the baby?" he
asked. "If you know he cares about you, why are you so
afraid?"

Her voice was barely a whisper. "I don't want to disappoint
him-"

"You won't. Trust me."

"-and I don't want to disappoint you either."

He frowned at her. "What?"

She looked down at her hands. "When I told you, you were so
happy. I hadn't ever seen you like that before. I...I don't
feel the same, not completely, and sometimes I wonder if
you're disappointed that I don't. And I get so worried about
how you must feel about me that I have to get away from the
station and go down to Bajor, to be with Garak and the
children. I just need to think about something other than
the baby, and you and me, and what's going to happen when
people find out. But with you..." and she lifted her eyes to
his, "these days, that's all there is."

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put that pressure on you.
But I'm not disappointed in you, Zee; I'm worried."

"But what if Garak thinks-"

"Zee," he said, "if Garak really cares about you, he'll be
happy for us. That goes for my dad and your dad as well. If
not, who cares? We are the ones who have to live our lives,
Zee. This is about you and me, and our child."

He felt her frown against his throat. "You're not worried?"

"Of course I'm worried. You're sick, Zee. You've been
cramping and throwing up, you've been so tired lately, and
you've got a fever - I can feel it. This isn't normal." Jake
allowed her to hear the concern in his voice. "Major Kira
never did any of that with the O'Briens' baby."

"I'm half-Cardassian. Maybe it has something to do with
that?"

He looked down into her eyes and caressed her cheek. "I want
to make sure."

Ziyal looked at him pleadingly. "Can we just wait a while
longer? Just a day or two, please? Maybe we could find a
doctor away from the station if you're that worried - take a
trip?"

"Zee..." Jake began.

"Please."

Jake rubbed the back of his neck wearily. "Two days. I'll
ask around - but discreetly, I promise. If you get any
worse, though..."

"I won't. I feel better already. Really." She let the shirt
fall from her shoulders, reaching up to draw Jake down into
a soft kiss.

Desire overrode good sense as Jake pushed from his mind all
the things he meant to say. He laid his lover on the bed and
made slow, tender love to her. When they were done and Ziyal
was fast asleep, her head pillowed on his chest, he cradled
her in his arms as his mind wandered.

He had never loved like this before. He wasn't very
experienced sexually; Ziyal was only the second woman he'd
ever taken to bed. His first time with a woman had been a
fumbled and clumsy affair, tragically mortifying for him and
amusing to his far more experienced partner. It also hadn't
been anything more than a stopgap, a tension reliever, at
least for her anyway. He had thought he was in love, but the
affection and desire he'd felt for Kaleeta was nothing like
what he felt for Ziyal.

Kaleeta was...drama and hot burning desire. There was no
real connection between them other than sex. Whenever they
tried to talk about something they either wound up arguing
or tumbling into bed. When she dumped him he thought his
heart was broken forever, but then he met Ziyal.

She was different. With Ziyal he could talk about the things
that were important to him and she really listened. She
didn't get mad at him because he was busy doing something
that didn't center around her. She was so smart and funny,
quiet but thoughtful and easy to be with. One day he just
said to himself, this is it. He'd heard his granddad talk
about his grandmother like that and his dad talk about his
mom; now he knew exactly what they were saying. It was like
something amazing; it was that *moment* when it all comes
together and you just know. It didn't matter that they were
so young or that they came from such different backgrounds,
they just clicked. It was like two halves coming together.
Ziyal was the center of his life: the one. Period.

She opened herself up, gave her whole heart to him as well
as her body. With her it was lovemaking, this crazy passion
that was fast and furious on the floor two feet from the bed
some days and sweet and slow on others. He loved her with a
fire he hadn't even known was possible.

And then she'd become pregnant. He'd wondered if his
jealousy towards Garak hadn't made him subconsciously forget
his booster. It was a guilty thought, one he didn't like to
admit having, but still it was there. He'd always been
religious about his boosters until he and Ziyal became
serious. She wouldn't get the shots because she was afraid
word would get to her father through the rampant gossip
grapevine on the station. The wrong person walking in at the
wrong time and she'd be disowned. She was so scared of him,
of the fact that Dukat could snatch away his love so easily.

He tried to tell her that real love is something that
doesn't end just because you do something the other person
doesn't happen to agree with. Ziyal wouldn't listen. After
all, what else did she know? Life had shown her differently.

Jake had little regard for Dukat in any case. Not just for
his past or the run-ins with his father, but for his
treatment of Ziyal both then and now. They never spoke of
Ziyal's past. He knew some, of course. The rest he'd guessed
at or filled in the blanks. She wasn't a virgin when they
first made love but she had approached it with a virgin's
fear of the unknown. She hadn't been gently loved before him
and she bore scars, mentally and physically, from her time
in the slave encampment. She never said she had been raped,
but it was obvious. The Breen would have had no use for
sexual slaves, but there had been Cardassians and members of
other species in the camp to whom a thirteen-year-old girl
who was fine-boned and willowy would have been too great of
a temptation to pass up.

She had loved him with a trust that he found profoundly
touching, especially considering what she had gone through.
When they first met she had been shy and aloof, but as they
grew closer she blossomed. She made him feel ten feet tall
some days; it was a heady feeling to be needed by someone.
It was when she'd started to see Garak that things changed.
She was no longer as available to him, no longer saw him as
her guide on Deep Space Nine. The closer she became to the
older man, the more Jake pursued her. When the Founder who
was disguised as Dr. Bashir began a relationship with the
Cardassian, Ziyal came back to him. Suddenly he was her sun
and moon and life was good again.

He had taken his boosters once every three months, on time
and as usual, but then the Founder was revealed and Garak
fled the station. Ziyal disappeared with him, leaving for
days sometimes. At first he'd been supportive, then jealous.
He wanted her here with him but she was slipping away. He
did not plan the pregnancy, he really didn't, but when his
boosters came due he pushed them off. He told himself he was
too busy, that the boosters worked for at least a month
after the doctors said they did; three months was a
conservative estimate. Then one day he simply forgot to make
an excuse - forgot altogether in fact. Even so, when Ziyal
became pregnant he was happy, proud that he was going to be
a father. Just the idea that a piece of him was growing
inside of her, that a child existed that was half him and
half Ziyal, amazed and thrilled him. He wondered about why
he hadn't been at all shocked. He hadn't planned it...but
subconsciously he may have wanted this the whole time. Now
she was his and would always be his no matter what. As
selfish as that sounded - and he knew it was selfish - he
was finally at peace.

A little boy or girl with his skin tone and Ziyal's delicate
features...the thought made him smile. He'd gone out and
found as much information on hybrid pregnancies as he could.
He monitored her diet and was concerned and supportive. He
was determined to be the best father and husband he could
be. He wanted to prove to Ziyal that this would work.

His dream was to be a writer and for he and Zee to have at
least a half dozen kids and a house in the country; he
wanted them to be on solid ground both physically and
emotionally. It wasn't the usual fantasy of a
nineteen-year-old man, but after a life of uncertainty,
something real and stable was at his fingertips.

His joy, however, was currently drowned out by the guilt at
how sick Ziyal had become. It had sapped every bit of energy
from her; she was sleeping too much, vomiting too much, and
the pain...

The guilt had made him a little crazy. He hadn't been eating
right or sleeping, and he told Ziyal he'd agree to
termination if she wanted it even though the idea made him
sick. This was his baby, his child, and he'd never wanted
anything so much before.

But as much as he wanted this for them, he wanted Ziyal
infinitely more.

He wrapped his arms around her and tried to sleep. Keep her
safe, God, he thought. No matter what else happens, just let
me keep Zee safe.

---

The senior staff members gathered at the airlock to greet
their new temporary commander. It was a barebones reception
given that Worf was away with Sisko at the peace summit and
Dax had been ordered to take the Defiant out on patrol with
an unfamiliar crew made up of officers from the Venture,
Captain Figueiredo's ship. Julian was, of course, gone, so
Dan Okuna and Girani Mirat had both come in his place as the
senior medical officers, representing the Starfleet and the
Bajoran crews. Other than Okuna, Miles was the only other
member of Starfleet in attendance. Odo stood by Kira's side,
obviously impatient at being taken away from his duties.

"If he's not going to show up I do have other matters to
attend to, Major," he grumbled. "A shipful of Nalizian
traders just docked and they can be worse than a handful of
Klingons on a blood wine binge when they get started. The
last time they were here they started a brawl in Quark's
that took out half the bar."

"The Tobin docked half an hour ago, Odo," Kira said, keeping
her own irritation at being forced to wait in check. "I'm
sure he was just held up or something."

Okuna yawned and shifted his feet, shrugging apologetically.
"Sorry, I'm still adjusting to going back to extended
shifts. Which reminds me, when are we getting in a
replacement for Dr. Bashir?"

"We shouldn't need to get a replacement for Bashir," Girani
retorted. "This whole thing is ridiculous if you ask me."

"Hear, hear," Miles muttered in agreement.

"Look, we are all going to have to just deal with this and
move on," Kira broke in. "The captain will be back in a week
or two and everything will go back to normal again. Until
then, we'll just have to make the best of it."

"Well, unless this fella shows up soon I have to go," Miles
said. "We're still completing upgrades to the power supply
and I have a laundry list of other repairs to get to today."

"Hey, Chief?" Okuna asked. "Pereira said you'd heard of this
MacKelroy. What's his story?"

"Used to be an American football player - tough SOB too from
what I hear. Don't know much about his service record except
that he's got a reputation for being a hard ass." Miles said
with a shrug. "Been stuck behind a desk since he got his
knee replacement but that's all I know."

"Great, another weekend warrior who thinks he can handle the
operation of a forward installation," Girani grumbled.

At that moment the airlock doors opened and MacKelroy
stepped out. Kira's first impression of the man was that he
was big - very big. Taller than Sisko and twice as broad,
the man was built like a Klingon. He sure doesn't look like
a desk jockey to me, she thought.

She stepped forward and extended her hand. "Commander. I'm
Major Kira Nerys. Welcome to Deep Space Nine."

He looked at her hand without taking it and glanced around
at the other assembled senior staff. "Is this it?"

Kira dropped her hand and squared her shoulders, her
irritation building. "Commander Worf is with Captain Sisko
and Commander Dax is on the Defiant." She gestured toward
Odo who was standing to her right. "This is-"

"Major," he said as he looked down his nose at her, "I've
already been briefed; don't waste my time." He swept his
gaze over the motley crowd. "We'll convene in the wardroom.
After you, Major?"

Kira gritted her teeth at the man's high-handed attitude.
"Yes, sir."

---

They assembled in the wardroom. Kira was about to pull out
her usual chair when MacKelroy frowned at her. "Don't sit
down," he said as he reached the head of the table. "I
intend to make this brief."

Okuna, who was already half-way seated, got up awkwardly and
looked around in slight embarrassment. Girani and Odo stood
there stiffly, glaring daggers at the Commander. Miles took
a resigned breath and glanced at the chrono. Kira felt a
flush of anger run through her as MacKelroy sat, after
ordering them not to, and again kept them waiting while he
decided what to say.

After a long pause, Commander MacKelroy began to speak.
"From what I have read about this station and from what the
Admiral has told me personally, I can tell you right now
that I am not impressed with your performance to date." He
allowed that to sink in, examining each one of their
expressions before continuing. "In fact, I am downright
embarrassed as a Starfleet officer and citizen of the
Federation that this installation has fallen into the habit
of kowtowing to a bunch of locals to the point that," and he
chuckled humorlessly, "not only have you left this station
wide open to infiltration but you've managed to put the
entire Alpha Quadrant in jeopardy. This policy of indulging
the superstitions and whims of the Bajorans and their
so-called Prophets ends today." He banged his hand against
the table in emphasis. "Benjamin Sisko doesn't live here any
more, people. This is my show from here on out."

That did it. "Excuse me, Commander," Kira said, her
irritation evident in her sharp tone, "but you seem to be
under the mistaken impression that Captain Sisko isn't
returning in two weeks."

"And you are under the mistaken impression that he will be,"
MacKelroy shot back. "Benjamin Sisko, from what I've heard
of him, is a good man and a good officer, or at least he
used to be. The simple fact is he's gone native. I feel I'm
not speaking out of turn when I say that Command wants him
out. After the peace talks, he will be reassigned. I'm
telling you people, here and now, that my assignment here is
not temporary. I will be here for the long haul. This is a
Starfleet installation and it will be run as such."

Girani lifted her hand and spoke up. "Pardon me. I don't
mean to interrupt your little speech or anything, but last
time I looked this was a *Bajoran* station. I could be wrong
though, after all I've only been here - what: for five and a
half years? I realize you've been here all of five minutes
and know more about it than I do, but still, a little
clarification would be nice. When exactly did First Minister
Shakaar decide to just give the station away? I must have
missed the memo."

"And you would be?" MacKelroy asked, eyeballing her as he
sat back in his chair.

"Dr. Girani Mirat. I'm the senior Bajoran medical officer on
staff."

"Well, Dr. Mirat-" he began.

"Dr. Girani," she said sharply.

"Dr. Girani," he corrected. "First of all, you're right,
this is a *Bajoran* station, but Starfleet is keeping it in
the sky, Starfleet is footing the bill for that snazzy
little Infirmary of yours, and Starfleet personnel and
vessels are the ones defending it. If Bajor wants to take an
issue with any of that then they can learn to make do
without Starfleet supporting them. Bajor has been offered
the opportunity to join the Federation since the Occupation
ended but instead your government has been languishing on
the Federation's dime. The Dominion isn't as patient as we
are, Doctor, and it's come time to piss or get off the pot.
We are fully prepared to build our own station if need be,
and probably will. Deep Space Nine is rundown and, as I
understand it, we've spent more man-hours in trying to
convert this rusted out tin wheel from a processing plant to
a functioning and defendable installation than it would have
taken to simply build a much more advanced and better armed
facility. Until then, the Provisional Government better get
used to the idea that this station is no longer in Bajoran
hands or they can get chummy with the Jem'Hadar. If you or
any other members of the Bajoran militia don't like it, feel
free to catch the next shuttle to Bajor and don't let the
airlock hit you on the way out."

Kira felt her blood boil as she placed her hands on the
table and leaned in toward MacKelroy, "And let me clarify
this for you, Commander - Captain Sisko put *me* in charge
of this 'tin wheel' in his absence and I am the ranking
Bajoran officer on this station. I don't know who the hell
gave you the idea you could waltz in here and basically
decide to plant a Federation flag on Bajoran property but I
can promise you that if anyone is going to be leaving on the
next shuttle it will be you!"

"Maybe so, Major," MacKelroy responded. "But I doubt it. My
orders come from Admiral Ross himself. Feel free to contact
Headquarters if you like, but you'll find that they'll just
back up what I just told you." He looked around the room.
"I'm going to be conducting performance reviews on all
Starfleet officers and their subordinates and new relief
crews will be brought in within the month. I'm here to clean
house. If any of you," and he offered Okuna and O'Brien a
sarcastic grin, "or should I say *either* of you, feel your
job may be in jeopardy and wish to avoid the review, feel
free to request a transfer to the assignment of your choice.
This is being offered as a courtesy, gentlemen. Don't take
too long in deciding. As for the Bajoran crews..." He looked
at Kira, Odo, and Girani. "I'll be setting up a meeting with
First Minister Shakaar as soon as he becomes available and
we'll discuss it then. If you feel that you will not be able
to function adequately under my command then, by all means,
feel free to request a reassignment. Dismissed."

Kira, seething with barely contained rage, turned on her
heel and left the room while she could still control the
urge to break MacKelroy's neck and toss his corpse out an
airlock. The others followed her out.

"That - you are going to contact Shakaar about MacKelroy's
little diatribe in there, aren't you?" Girani demanded,
jogging up to match Kira's angry stride as she exited Ops
and headed toward the lift.

"You better believe I will." Kira turned and faced the other
senior members of staff. "Until this matter is settled all
of you need to continue on as usual. I promise you that I
will get to the bottom of this by the end of the day."

O'Brien's face was grim. "It may not be as easy as you
think, Major. I've seen officers like MacKelroy before. They
don't issue blanket statements like the one he did back in
the wardroom unless he has someone bigger than him backing
it up."

Okuna nodded. "He might be right, Major. When I told Garak
about Zimmerman reporting Dr. Bashir to Headquarters, he
said then that it seemed a bit strange that he would be
picked for the LMH program so soon after his return from the
Gamma Quadrant. Maybe it's just from living in Garak's back
pocket for the last few months, but this whole thing seems a
little contrived to me, like someone's been setting this
whole thing up for a while. Sisko and Worf being called
away, Dr. Bashir's suspension, Commander Dax being
reassigned to patrol with the Venture's crew - I think
someone wanted MacKelroy's arrival to coincide with all
that. Made it easier for him to clean house and assert
dominance. And," he added, "call me crazy, but I doubt even
Ross has the pull to do all that. Something as radical as
what MacKelroy has planned would have to be authorized by
someone a lot higher up than even Admiral Ross - *if* what
he said is accurate."

"Intricate and far-fetched conspiracies have their appeal,
and normally I would be more than happy to explore Mr.
Garak's and your theories. Unfortunately, it doesn't change
the fact that I still have a job to do. Major," Odo said
with a nod before taking off toward the Promenade.

"Odo's right," Kira said. "Return to your duties. I contact
you as soon as I know anything."

---

"Shakaar, the man didn't just imply that the station was no
longer a Bajoran asset, he said it outright!" Kira said
angrily.

"I heard you the first time, Nerys." Shakaar said, his
features grim as she spoke to him over the subspace. "The
fact is that we need to approach this carefully."

"What - Edon! What's there to think about? Call Starfleet
and have this MacKelroy reassigned immediately!"

Shakaar ran his hand over his mouth and hunched his
shoulders as he appeared to mull over what she was saying.
"First off, you need to calm down - and that goes for your
people as well. From what you've told me about this new
commander, it sounds as though he's trying to get you angry
enough that all of you will just quit without a fight and
leave the station wide open to whatever he's planning. It's
a good strategy and it appears to be working, so just take a
step back and don't fall for it. I'm stuck here in the
capital until tomorrow afternoon. I'll meet with this
MacKelroy then, and believe me, we will be discussing his
supposed appropriation of the station."

"That's it?" Kira asked incredulously.

"What do you want me to do? Go off half-cocked and cause an
interplanetary incident over this?" he asked. "Unlike you, I
don't have the luxury of getting pissed off and rushing over
there to escort MacKelroy off the station. This affects all
of Bajor. He's right about the fact that if Starfleet pulls
out we won't have the resources to protect Bajor from the
Dominion, much less from Cardassia. And if Legate Goris
decides to follow through with what Dukat started to do and
strike a deal with the Founders..." He shook his head.
"Look, there's a good chance the new commander was just
bluffing to get a reaction out of you. From what you've
said, this is his first real command. Chances are he's just
getting ahead of himself and I doubt Starfleet wants to push
the kind of agenda MacKelroy is talking about. Removing
Benjamin Sisko from the command of this station is the last
thing any of us want to see happen. I will handle this, just
give me time."

Kira shook her head. "I'm telling you, Shakaar: you weren't
there. This MacKelroy is trouble."

"And you said the same thing about Ben Sisko to my
predecessor, as I recall."

"No, this is different," she said. "What if MacKelroy isn't
bluffing?"

Shakaar didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

The look he gave her said it all.

---

Jake woke up, blinking at the light from Bajor's sun that
was suddenly streaming through his bedroom viewport. He
tiptoed to the bathroom, careful not to wake Ziyal, and
emptied his uncomfortably full bladder. "Computer," he
called out in a low voice as he shook off the last drops of
piss, "time."

//It is 1800 hours.//

He cursed under his breath as he washed and sanitized his
hands: they'd slept nine hours, far longer than Jake had
intended. Ziyal would be mortified to still be here when Nog
showed up. He only hoped Nog decided to stop off at Quark's
with his fellow crewmen that afternoon instead of coming
right home.

It wasn't Nog's problem, though; it was Ziyal's. She was
always afraid that someone would find out they were lovers.
She wouldn't spend the night with him, and she would only
spend no more than an hour with him alone during the daytime
- when his father was in Ops and Nog was on duty. It was
futile, given that both Nog and his father knew full well
that he and Ziyal were sleeping together, but Ziyal didn't
know that, or rather, didn't want to admit it to herself.

Her inability to be open about their relationship angered
Jake at times, if only because it felt as if she were
ashamed of him. He knew that wasn't the real reason, but it
still rankled. To him sex was a normal part of a
relationship, but to her it was a sign that she wasn't the
'good girl' of her childhood. She simply couldn't overcome
the conditioning her parents had instilled in her, and
although it sometimes angered him he tried to be patient.

He put his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, babe, time to wake
up."

She didn't stir. It didn't surprise him; Zee been so rundown
lately and she had been fighting a cold - yet another reason
he wanted her to see a doctor. He shook her harder and
tossed the covers away from her, exposing her to the cold
room. It was a little mean but she had to get up. "C'mon
Zee, it's late. We need to hit the shower and get something
to eat."

Nothing: not even a twitch.

"Zee!" He shook her harder as he began to realize something
was very wrong. Panic built in his chest. "Zee! Ziyal!" He
felt her head - she was burning up. "Baby! You have to wake
up!" He took her by the shoulders and shook her but she
remained limp and unresponsive.

"Computer! Medical Emergency!" Jake shouted, now in a full
blown panic and holding Ziyal tight against his chest.
"Please baby, wake up!"

//Infirmary.// Dr. Girani's voice filled the room.

"Dr. Girani, this is Jake. Jake Sisko!"

//Jake, what's wrong?//

Jake struggled to keep his voice steady. "I can't wake up
Ziyal. Something's wrong with her."

//Okay, Jake. I'm going to transport you both to the
Infirmary now. Computer, lock onto the biosignatures at the
end of this comm line - two for emergency medical
transport.//

The world shimmered and the air burned around them. When the
haze cleared they were in the Infirmary, both lying on a
biobed with Jake still clutching her to his chest.

"Jake, I need you to let us examine her," Girani said,
turning her tricorder on Ziyal and indicating for him to
move away.

Adam Perreira came up behind him and handed him a set of
surgical scrubs. "Go get dressed, man. We'll take care of
her."

Jake looked down at himself in surprise. He hadn't even
remembered he was naked until Adam pointed it out to him. He
slipped on the pants and shirt quickly, watching as Girani
and Adam took care of Ziyal.

"Jake," Girani said, looking up.

"Is she going to be okay?" Jake asked, moving forward and
feeling his stomach churn.

"I don't know yet. She appears to be in an unusually deep
sleep, but it isn't a coma - that's good. I'm going to try
administering a mild stimulant and see what happens."

"Will it hurt the baby?" Jake asked without thinking.

She and Perreira shared a look before Girani spoke to him
again. "It shouldn't, no. Are you the baby's father?"

"Yeah - yes," Jake answered, running a shaking hand over his
hair. "Ziyal - we're going to get married. I mean, in case
you need permission for anything, I'm her next of kin."

"Technically you aren't, Jake. Not until you are actually
married or Ziyal signs a consent form naming you as such."
Jake began to object but Girani cut him off. "It's not that
I don't believe you, Jake, but I have to go by what is in
Ziyal's records. Hopefully, the stimulant will bring her
around but Kira needs to know. She's on Ziyal's medical
release forms as the emergency contact."

"That doesn't mean you have to leave or that we won't keep
you informed," Adam said, stepping up and putting a
comforting hand of his shoulder. "We won't do anything
without telling you first, Jake. I promise."

"Do you - can you-" He bit his lip. "The baby - Ziyal didn't
want anyone to know yet."

"I'll try to hold off comming Major Kira, but Jake: if I
can't bring her around I'll have no choice. Do you
understand?"

"Yes...just help her."

"I need 5 cc's of metheramine." Girani said to Perreira. He
handed her a hypospray which she pressed to Ziyal's neck
with a hiss. She then looked at the monitors above the
biobed and frowned. "She has a fever as well and I'm not too
thrilled over these readings we're getting. Give me 10 ccs
of hydromalycidone and 10 ccs of anacyline."

As soon as the hyposprays were administered, Ziyal began to
stir. Jake rushed forward, "Zee!"

Adam held him back. "Give her a minute, man."

He watched as Ziyal slowly opened her eyes. Girani grabbed a
thin blanket from the bottom of the bed and covered her
nakedness. "Hey. You gave us a scare, young lady."

"Jake..." Ziyal said softly.

"I'm here, babe." Jake walked over to her side and took her
hand.

"I don't have any clothes on," Ziyal said, looking around at
her surroundings and pulling the covers up higher, her face
crumpling in distress.

"I'm sorry, baby - I didn't think-" Jake began. Adam tapped
him on the shoulder and nodded as he left to get another set
of surgical scrubs for Ziyal to put on. "We'll get you
something to wear. I just - I got scared and I didn't know
what to do. I had to call the doctor."

"Is - is it-?"

"The baby is fine," Jake said quickly, looking up at Girani
for confirmation.

She nodded so Ziyal could see. "You have a healthy baby-"
She paused. "I'm sorry, did you want to know the baby's
sex?"

Jake looked down at Ziyal and smiled. "It's up to you, baby.
Do you want to know?"

Ziyal didn't answer. She looked like she was on the verge of
tears, her face flushed with embarrassment. Adam returned
and handed Jake the scrubs.

"I think we'll wait for now, doctor," Jake said, awkwardly
taking the clothes from Adam who wisely disappeared into the
office. "Sweetie? Do you want me to help you get dressed?"

Ziyal nodded quietly as she sat up in the bed.

"I'll let you get dressed but then we need to do a more
detailed examination, okay Ziyal?" Girani said.

Ziyal again nodded silently in response; Jake shielded her
as best he could as he helped her put on the clothes. "Why
did you have to call them?" she whispered tearfully after
Girani left. "I told you-"

"I didn't have a choice, Zee. I tried to literally shake you
awake for ten minutes. I thought something was wrong - Dr.
Girani had to give you a hypospray just to wake you up! I'm
sorry, believe me. If I had thought about it I would have
grabbed something for you to wear and dressed you first but
there wasn't any time." He tried to smile, but his nerves
and her tears were making that impossible. "I didn't even
dress myself, baby. I stood there flapping in the wind
before Adam reminded me I didn't have any pants on, that's
how scared I was."

"Now they know about the baby - everyone is going to know
now," Ziyal said, tears sliding down her cheeks as she lay
back down on the bed. Her long fall of hair obscured her
face as she curled into a ball and clutched the blanket to
her chest.

"They would have found out eventually, Ziyal," Jake said,
becoming a little impatient.

"No," Ziyal said in a small voice. "I didn't want..."

"Want what? The baby?" Jake asked, then sat on the edge of
the bed and ran his hand down her back. "I told you, if you
want to terminate I understand. It doesn't affect the way I
feel about you. We can try again when we're ready."

"I do want the baby, Jake," Ziyal's voice hitched a little
as she continued to cry tears of humiliation, her back still
turned to him. "I just never wanted to trap you into this. I
thought if no one knew I-"

"What Ziyal? Tell me."

"I could just leave the station - go to Bajor. That way we
wouldn't be an embarrassment to you."

"God damn it," Jake said wearily. He sat on the edge of the
bed and ran a shaky hand over his eyes, half surprised to
feel the slick warmth of his own tears. "Zee, I love you so
don't take this the wrong way, but there are times when you
really frustrate me. God, you are going to make me old
before my time, woman! For the last time, I am not like your
dad and you are not your mother. I have never thought of you
that way. I am so proud of you. I am proud of the fact that
you are a survivor. I think you are beautiful-all of you. I
love the Cardassian and the Bajoran in you equally. I. Love.
You. Do you get it? Are you hearing what I am saying to you?
How many times do I have to tell you I love you? You are not
an embarrassment and neither is our baby, so listen to me:
you are not going anywhere! Your place is with me. If you
want to move to Bajor - fine, but I'm coming, too."

"Why? Why would you do that?" Ziyal asked, turning to look
at him.

"Jesus, Ziyal! Why do you think? Because I love you and I
want to be with you: didn't I just get finished telling you
that? Besides, husbands and wives generally live together,
or so I've been told. And we are getting married - I'm
putting my foot down on this one," Jake said firmly. "I have
never felt more terrified or helpless than when Dr. Girani
informed me that because we weren't married I couldn't make
any decisions regarding your medical care."

She frowned. "She said that?"

"Kira is your emergency contact, not me. I couldn't do
anything to help you." Jake felt his voice catch and the
tears he was trying to suppress sting his eyes. He turned
his head away, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He
felt Ziyal's hand on his cheek.

"Jake, marriage is a big deal. Are you sure?" she asked in a
low voice.

He looked at her. "Woman...damn it. You're killing me. Yes.
I want this, Zee. I can't do this without you - I can't go
another day with this hanging over our heads. If you love
me, really love me, don't make me keep asking you to marry
me. Just say yes. I can't - I can't - this has been tearing
me up inside." He choked down a sob and cleared his throat.
"Please." His voice was deep with emotion. "Just put me out
of my misery. A man can only take so much."

Ziyal sat there quietly for a moment. "Yes."

The minute the word left her mouth Jake took her face in his
hands and kissed her. He allowed everything he was feeling
to flow through that sweet contact: all the pain and
uncertainty, all his fear and love, and in return she
answered him with her own soft touch. When they broke apart
Jake wiped at the corners of his eyes roughly and cleared
his throat. "Okay. After we leave here we're going to the
station temple and speak with the vedek. I wanted to wait
until my dad came back, but we can do it again later. I want
us married as soon as possible - today, if we can do it."

"I think maybe we should wait until I feel a little better,"
Ziyal suggested. "Just another day or two. I still feel a
little funny from the hypo Dr. Girani gave me."

"God. When we are old and gray I swear I'll pay you back by
being a crotchety old bastard and I will do everything I can
to make your life miserable. Do you hear me, woman?
Miserable!" He waited until he saw her smile a little.
"Fine," Jake said softly. "Just don't change your mind,
okay?"

"I won't. I promise."

Jake pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on top of
her head. "I'm going to take out the garbage in my underwear
and piss off the neighbors. I'm going to fart in public and
blame you. Loudly." Her shoulders began to shake and he
smiled. "Don't laugh-I'm serious. You think I'm kidding but
I'm telling you right now that I will have my revenge. I'm
going to feed our grandchildren tons of candy, then leave
you to baby-sit while Nog and I go fishing. And from now on,
I hog the covers, do you hear me? I earned it. And I'm going
to rub ice all over my ass and scoot up against you every
night, see how you like it for a change."

"I don't mean to interrupt you two, but I need to run some
tests," Girani said as she came back into the room. "Do you
want me to comm Major Kira, Ziyal?"

"Um, yes," Ziyal said, smiling up at Jake. "That way we can
tell her about the wedding. Is it all right with you if I
ask her to be my maid of honor?"

"Absolutely," Jake said, kissing her on the forehead and
saying a quiet prayer of thanks.

---

Dan hurried out of the turbolift and headed toward the
Infirmary. When he got there he wasn't the least bit
surprised to see Girani waiting there for him outside of the
Infirmary. He was late: very late. His shift was 1800 to
0500 and he was forty-five minutes late. He was about to
launch into his apology when he caught the look on her face.

"I need a consult."

He looked at her in surprise. "Sure. What's up?"

"It's Ziyal." Girani's expression was troubled. "I need you
to go over her labs with me if you could."

Dan took the PADD she handed him. "Well, she's definitely
pregnant."

"I realize that, Okuna. Just keep reading."

Dan shrugged and scrolled down the report. When he got about
halfway down he stopped. "What the hell is this? Some kind
of metabolic acidosis? What's causing it?"

"I don't know."

"Where's Ziyal?" Okuna asked.

"She's asleep. I told them we couldn't discharge her until
we were sure she was stable. Perreira is sitting with her
and Jake monitoring the readings." She said with a sigh. "I
don't like this. I'm thinking it may have to do with the
pregnancy itself. You're the genetics expert: can you look
this over and see what the options are? I don't want to
recommend a termination until all the facts are in."

"I'll work on it tonight. Have you commed Bashir yet? Asked
him what he thinks?"

"She doesn't want me to contact him. Ziyal was adamant about
it. I think it has more to do with the possibility that
Garak might find out about the pregnancy before she's ready
to tell him than it is about any issues she might have
concerning Dr. Bashir. Still, it would probably be for the
best if we didn't consult with him on this until absolutely
necessary."

"Why not?"

"Well, with the whole Founder blowup and then the Zimmerman
thing - let's face it, he was on the edge for a while there.
If I was a pregnant woman I'd be reluctant to put my baby's
life in Bashir's hands right now myself."

"He's a good doctor," Okuna objected.

"I know that," she said. "He's one of the best, but he's
been a bit off his game since all this crap started. For
now, let's keep this between us. If we can't figure
something out we'll comm him. He's supposed to be on
suspension anyway. I have a feeling this MacKelroy won't be
too open to having him pop up for a consult."

"That guy is a true blue asshole," Okuna agreed, looking
over the PADD again. "I'll see what I can do. I'll run a few
more tests on them both - Jake is the father, right?"

"That's what they said."

Okuna nodded. "You're right; it may have something to do
with the genetics. I'll call you if anything happens or if I
find something."

"Do that," Girani said with a nod as she turned wearily
toward the turbolifts.

"Night," Okuna said absently.

"Oh, and Okuna?"

He turned to look at her.

"Show up forty-five minutes late for your shift again and
I'll surgically graft your balls to your forehead."

He smiled at her. "You have a nice night as well, doctor."

---
CHAPTER FOUR: The Simple Things In Life
---

Julian woke up with a snort. Something was-

"Good morning!" Kela said, giggling at him.

Julian wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and sat
up, clearing his throat. "Good morning."

Kela giggled again. "Your hair is sticking up all funny."

"Hmm." Julian answered in a noncommittal grunt and ran a
hand through his hair. "What time is it?"

"It's day time," Kela said. "We got to get up and get
dressed. Breakfast will be starting soon and today they're
serving honey cakes! We got to get there before they run out
and all that's left is eggs and salted fish - gross!"

"Yes, quite," Julian said, getting out of bed. He headed
toward the bathroom then stopped. "Crap. Clothes - you don't
have any clothes to wear." He turned to Kela, who had
crawled up on his bed to play with her stuffed wompat doll
among the ruin of covers. He looked at her tangle of hair
and rumpled blue nightgown critically. "I don't suppose
breakfast around here is clothing optional?"

"I don't know. What's 'clothing op-shun-all' mean?"

"It means, well..." Next time keep the sarcasm to a minimum
around the four-year old, Bashir. "In other words, is it
okay if you go to breakfast in your pajamas?"

"Oh. Nope."

"Fantastic." Julian said, watching her bounce her doll on
her knee. "And you have nothing to wear. Again."

"But I do got clothes! Elim said he was coming over before
breakfast with some."

"Well, that's one bit of good news then." He went over to
his suitcases and rummaged around until he found a sweater,
jeans, and underwear. "You stay here and wait for Garak
until I come out of the bathroom."

"Okay. Why do you call Elim, Garak?"

Julian stopped. "Because that's his name."

"No it isn't," Kela argued. "It's Elim."

"But it's also Garak."

"No, that's his *other* name. His real name is Elim," she
said with a superior air.

"But-" Julian stopped himself. What sense did it make to
argue about this with a four-year-old while standing in his
pajamas? "Just - wait for 'Elim' then, okay?"

"Okay," she said, then added, "You're very messy."

"Pardon me?" He said turning toward her again.

"Your clothes are all over the floor and stuff. And you left
all those towels on the floor last night, too. I saw them
when I went pee. They was all wet and the water squished out
when I stepped on 'em. Brother Lum says that's bad. It makes
the floors all rotten and stuff and the towels get stinky."

Julian felt a headache building at his temples. "I'll clean
it up later."

"Brother Lum always makes me pick up my messes before I can
go anywhere. He says that the Prophets can see when you are
being ir-ir-re...when you're being bad."

"Fine, I'll go pick them up now." Julian said, then in a
lower voice muttered "I wouldn't want the Prophets thinking
I was 'irresponsible', would I?"

"Nope!" Kela agreed brightly.

God save us from little ears that can hear like a bat,
Julian thought reaching for the door.

"Kela!" Garak's voice sounded from the living room.

"Oh good, Ga--*Elim's* here!" Julian said in an overly
bright and cheerful voice. "Let's go say hi to 'Elim', shall
we?"

As Kela rushed out the door ahead of him, Julian looked at
his clothes that were scattered around the room and muttered
under his breath, "And they wouldn't be all over the damned
floor if...bugger it."

He walked out to see Garak with some of Kela's clothes in
his hand leading her over to the couch. "I'll just be in the
bathroom."

Garak nodded and began getting Kela dressed. He ducked into
the bathroom, grateful for an excuse not to be pulled into
another discussion with the Cardassian.

"Dr. Julian's room is real messy!" he heard Kela say before
he shut the door. "He just throws his clothes EVERYWHERE!"

Julian looked at his reflection in the mirror ruefully. His
hair was sticking up on end, one of the lapels of his pajama
top was pointing straight up, and there was a crusty trail
of drool sediment leading from the corner of his mouth. "Oh
you sexy beast, you," Julian said to his reflection as he
dropped his clothes on the lid of the closed hamper and
reached for his toothbrush. "Bet you the Founder never
looked this good first thing in the morning."

---

Breakfast was delicious; even the kippered fish cakes were
flavorful, although Kela and Lewin both looked at him like
he was insane when he went back for seconds.

Garak sat with the other monks during first meal. Julian
wondered if that was his habit or if he were avoiding him.
Kela and Lewin didn't seem overly upset by his absence from
the table so Julian assumed it was normal. When breakfast
ended and the chimes that directed the children to report to
the school sounded, Julian headed toward the infirmary to
get some work done. Today he was determined to focus on
something besides Elim Garak and the ruination of his
career.

"Dr. Bashir!"

He turned to see the monk he'd met the day before, Brother
Reven, hurrying toward him.

"Is there something you need, Brother Reven?"

"I was wondering if later you could do me a favor and take a
look at Brother Danna?" Reven said when he caught up to him.
"There's been a cold making its way through the monastery
for about a month now," he said with a smile. "Germs and
sniffles are the biggest hazards when working with kids.
Danna has had the hardest time shaking it off, though. In
fact, I've noticed all of our hybrid children have been
miserable with it. I think the temperature changes and the
fact that it's been a soggy spring are the biggest
contributing factors."

Julian nodded. "Cardassians, even half-Cardassians, tend to
prefer warmer weather than this."

"Tell me about it," Reven said with a chuckle. "Danna keeps
our bedroom swelteringly hot and still piles on a dozen
blankets!"

"You and Brother Danna are...together?" Julian asked in
surprise.

"Yes." Reven blinked at him. "I'm sorry, doctor, it keeps
slipping my mind that you - well."

"The Founder...I understand."

"I apologize," Reven said, "but yes. Danna and I took our
vows of holy bondage three years ago next month."

"I knew the evangelical clergy could marry but I didn't
think the monks of your faith did."

"We don't, at least not in the secular sense. It isn't a
civil bond per say, but a spiritual one."

"So you don't..." Julian struggled to find the appropriate
way to phrase his question.

"Have sex?" Reven chuckled. "We're not celibate if that's
what you're asking."

"I didn't mean to offend you or anything." Julian flushed
with embarrassment.

He waved him off. "Nonsense. You'd be surprised at how often
we get asked that question. Especially by non-Bajorans."

"In that case, could I ask a few more questions?"

"Go right ahead. That's part of the job."

"What's the difference between a civil union and a spiritual
bond?" Julian asked.

"Ah, now that is a good question. You see, during the
Occupation, the church and its clergy were persecuted and
religion was banned - which you already know. This meant
that religious ceremonies such as weddings could not be
performed by clergy and one could only legally marry by
going through the civil laws and regulations as set by the
Cardassian overlords. Most people didn't marry because of
their fear of coming under Cardassian scrutiny. They merely
made a mutual decision to live together and agreed they were
married without any formal ceremony or civil agreement."

"Broomstick weddings." At Reven's curious look Julian
explained. "It's a term I learned while I was studying early
American Literature while at University. Several hundred
years ago when slavery existed on Earth, people who could
not legally marry would jump over a broomstick together as a
symbol of their bond."

"Broomstick wedding...interesting," Reven said, mulling the
idea over. "Our people conducted similar symbolic
ceremonies. They didn't exchange vows so much as they merely
announced or made clear by some other means their intent to
live as a couple. No jumping over cleaning implements,
however." He chuckled. "Those that were able to legally
marry obtained permission from the local Cardassian field
office in their province and then their union was duly
recorded and processed through the Occupational Government.
When the Occupation ended, in order to preserve those
unions, the Provisional Government decided to enact a law
recognizing civil unions. They also required new unions to
be documented by the local government just as it was done
during the Occupation. That's why most evangelical ministers
are licensed by the Provisional Government to perform civil
ceremonies."

"Like they do at the temple on DS9."

"Correct," he said. "It's so that people who aren't on Bajor
but who want both a civil and spiritual union don't have to
commute back. However, as clergy, we may only participate in
a spiritual bond as recognized by the Bajora Communion
because to us the only true bond is one made in the sight of
the Prophets. Technically the Provisional government doesn't
recognize it as a marriage, per se, but it all adds up to
the same thing."

"That...makes sense." Julian said thoughtfully. "Seems a
little silly to split hairs like that."

Reven shrugged. "The Bajora Communion and the Provisional
Government are separate entities and at times we seem to
contradict one another, but we always end up in the same
place."

"So that means that monks can date?"

Reven smiled. "I'm afraid I'm spoken for but if you're
asking if Brother Elim is free to engage in a personal
relationship during his time of penitence, the answer is
yes."

Julian cleared his throat nervously. "I wasn't - I didn't
mean Garak - it was just a general, you know...um. So you
said Danna was sick?"

Reven's eyes danced in amusement. "I don't think it's a
matter of life and death, but I have noticed he's been
running a fever on and off. Like I said, usually the bed is
heaped with blankets and he's got the fire blazing before I
step two feet in the door, but last night he was so hot he
woke up in a sweat."

"What have you been treating him with?"

"Some herbs and teas. Normally they work in these cases but
it's not doing the trick this time. I'm a vet and I've been
known to cross species lines from time to time, but this
goes a little beyond the abilities of a veterinarian."

"Bring him over to the infirmary this afternoon and I'll
have a look. I'm expecting a shipment of supplies this
morning so we should be able to knock what ever this is
right out. Also, let me know if there are any other children
or monks feeling ill. There's no need for whatever this is
to keep circling the orphanage."

"Thank you, doctor. I'll leave you to your work then. We'll
come by after midday prayers," Reven said, shaking his hand
in gratitude before leaving.

Julian headed over to the Infirmary to finish setting up his
lab with a smile on his face. Why he was feeling better he
didn't really know. It might have been the prospect of
actually being of some use while he was here even if all he
was doing was treating a spring cold, or it may have been
Reven's friendly demeanor. It might have been either of
those things - but the one thing from his conversation with
the monk that stuck in his mind was the fact that Garak was
still available should he decide to pursue a relationship
with him.

Which he had no intention of doing, of course.

Still, Julian thought, it was nice to know the option was
there, just in case.

---

It was twenty minutes to midday meal and Julian was
beginning to get frustrated. None of the supplies he had
requested had arrived yet and he had patients scheduled to
come in that afternoon. He had brought a medical replicator
with him, but there were some things the machine couldn't
easily replicate. Several types of anti-virals, for
instance, and from the way Reven explained Danna's symptoms,
he was willing to bet that's what he'd need to treat him. He
sat in front of the view screen of his comm unit and waited
for it to connect.

//Infirmary.//

"Hello, Adam. Is Dr. Girani available?"

//She's with a patient. Can I help you, doc?//

Julian shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Perreira, how
many times have I asked you not to call me 'doc'?"

//A whole lot, doc, but I promise to remember not to do it
any more in the future.//

Julian gave him a withering glare. "Has anyone ever told you
that you have the emotional maturity of a four-year-old,
Perreira?"

//Every woman I've ever dated. What can I do for you?//

Julian sighed and decided to let it go. Let Girani deal with
him for a while. One of the perks of his 'reassignment' was
not having to deal with Adam Perreira's sense of humor on a
daily basis. "I sent up a requisition order last night and I
should have received my supplies by now. What's the hold
up?"

Adam frowned. //I packed those supplies up personally and
sent them out to be transported this morning. You never got
them?//

"No."

//Give me a minute to see what's going on and I'll comm you
right back.//

"I'm leaving in twenty minutes for lunch and afterwards I've
got some patients coming in for an anti-viral booster. If
I'm not here just have someone go ahead and transport the
supplies down."

//Sure thing.//

Julian turned off the monitor and got back to work. If the
supplies weren't here when he returned from lunch he'd just
take the runabout up and get them himself. "I've been gone
just one day and the whole place has gone straight to hell."

---

Adam clicked off the comm unit and frowned. Where the hell
had Bashir's supplies gone? He hit his comm badge, "Perreira
to Yesmin."

//Yesmin.//

"Hey Phil, what happened to that package I had you guys load
up for Dr. Bashir?"

//What do you mean? I put it on the transport headed for
Bajor.//

"It never got there."

//You sure?//

"Phil, man, Doc Bashir just commed me personally and said it
didn't arrive, so yeah, I'm sure."

//Let me check the manifest.// There was a pause then a
muffled expletive.

"What?" Adam asked.

//Your stuff's still on loading pylon six,// Yesmin said in
an aggrieved tone.

"What's the hold up?"

//MacKelroy put a moratorium on any shipments of Starfleet
supplies heading to Bajor unless they are personally
authorized by him.//

"Are you-" Perreira dropped his voice down to a more normal
tone. "Are you shitting me? Sisko himself authorized that
shipment before he left."

//I had it loaded up and ready to go. According to this my
guy got a comm from MacKelroy saying that all relief
shipments heading to Bajor had to be authorized by him -
especially anything with Bashir's name on it - including the
ones Sisko had already authorized.//

"That's a load of bullshit!"

//Take it up with the man, Perreira. I just follow orders.//

"I hear you. Perreira out." Adam walked over to the office
and tapped on the door. "Dr. Girani?"

Girani was sitting at the desk tapping on a PADD. She
frowned. "Has Ziyal's condition changed?"

"No."

"Then what is it, Perreira? I'm busy."

"We have a problem."

Girani gave him a long suffering look. "I really don't want
to hear this, Perreira."

Adam ignored her and entered the room, shutting the door
behind him. "MacKelroy put the kibosh on all 'relief'
supplies going to Bajor, especially ones sent to Dr. Bashir
without his express authorization."

"Son of a-" Girani's mouth tightened into a thin line.
"Sisko authorized that shipment."

"He doesn't seem to care," Perreira replied. "When Bashir
commed me on this he said he's got a viral outbreak down
there and needs those meds. What are we going to do?"

"Go get the shipment and bring it back here. I'm going to
call in a few favors."

He shot her a dubious look. "I doubt MacKelroy is the type
of guy who reacts well to sweet talk, doc."

"Since when have I ever 'sweet talked' anyone, Perreira?"

He thought about that for a second. "Um, never?"

Girani grinned, scary and slow. "Right."

Adam frowned. "If you don't go through MacKelroy, how are
you going to get the medicine down to Bajor? He's not going
to let you take a runabout down."

"Just go get the packages, Perreira."

---

Vedek Halan made his way down to docking pylon six dragging
a hover cart loaded down with various large boxes. "Excuse
me, my son. Could you give me a hand with this?"

Phil Yesmin looked at the boxes with narrowed eyes, then
reached over to help the elderly vedek lower the hover cart.
"Can I help you, sir?"

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor and have this
shipped down to Bajor for me?"

"Hmmm." Yesmin looked at the boxes again. "Mind if I ask
what it is you're shipping, Vedek?"

"Clothes, various books, toys - just a few things to make
the lives of the dear children of the Forgotten Children's
Ministry a bit easier," Halan said innocently.

Yesmin scratched his chin. "You know, father - er, vedek.
Sorry."

"Not at all, my son," Halan said with a beatific grin.

"There was a bunch of packages down here a little while ago
that looked just like these - same hover cart in fact."

"Don't all boxes look alike?"

"I suppose," Yesmin said. "The new CO says we have to
examine any shipments headed out to Bajor now. Mind if I
open a box, sir?"

"Be my guest," Halan invited. When Yesin reached for a box
off the top, Halan stopped him. "Not that one." He pointed
to another box. "Try this one instead."

"Riiiight..." Yesmin opened the box and pulled out a teddy
bear. He then gave the elderly cleric an assessing look.
"Seems perfectly legitimate to me. I'll ship it out now."

"Thank you my son. You have been so kind." Halan said, "Are
you married?"

"Um, no." Yesmin said, momentarily taken off guard.

"Oh good! I should introduce you to my granddaughter. She's
a pretty girl. A little chatty, but a real sweetheart. Do
you like girls?"

"Yes, of course! I mean..." Yesmin stuttered.

"I'll have her come by-better yet, do you have dinner
plans?"

"I, uh..."

"Do you like Bajoran food?" He asked.

"Yes, but--"

"Then you have to take her to Mapaya's; it's her favorite
restaurant. She eats there all the time and she'll be
thrilled you thought of it. I'll have her stop by and you
can work out the details amongst yourselves." The vedek
promised, walking away with a wave. "You have a good day,
young man."

"Yes...sir. Oh, and Vedek?"

"Yes?" he said, turning back.

"If you should run into Ensign Perreira, could you tell him
he owes me one?" Yesmin thought about that for a moment, "On
second thought, I'll tell him myself. I have a feeling that
this is a message I should deliver *personally*."

---

When Julian got back to the children's infirmary after
lunch, a pile of boxes was waiting for him in the center of
the room. "It's about time!" he said, tearing into the first
box. "What the hell?"

He looked in the box then slowly reached inside to pull out
a...teddy bear.

"Perreira." He shook his head. "I swear that man has the
weirdest sense of humor."

Julian put the box of toys on the floor and opened the next
box which contained, thankfully, the medicine he'd ordered.
He was still putting everything away when Danna and Reven
arrived.

After settling Danna onto the exam table, he took out his
tricorder and began the scan. Julian looked at the readings
he was receiving with a frown. "How long did you say you've
been exhibiting these symptoms, Brother Danna?"

The half-Cardassian monk shrugged, "I don't know...on and
off for about a month or so."

"More on than off," Reven interjected.

Danna shot his companion a look. "It's nothing, just a cold
or an allergy. I always get a bit congested when the aguaba
trees begin to bloom. The teas Reven prepares usually knock
it right out."

"This isn't an allergy." Julian said, uploading the
information into the medi-scanner and looking at the
results.

"A virus?" Reven asked.

"I think so, but..." Julian frowned then retrieved an
aspirator and a slide from the drawer in his desk. "Do you
mind if I get a blood sample? There's something I need to
check."

"Not at all," Danna said, rolling up his sleeve.

Julian extracted a small sample of blood then transferred
the slide to the electron microscope he'd brought.

He quickly isolated the virus in Reven's blood and examined
the matrix of the virion itself. It was beautiful - clean
lines and deep crimson in color; crystalline perfection.
He'd never seen anything like it. "You said this has been
making the rounds throughout the orphanage?"

"Starting to," Reven said. "Is it bad?"

"I don't think so, not if the symptoms are as mild as you
say," Julian said, turning back to them. "It's just not a
virus strain I'm familiar with. It's nothing to be concerned
about, new viruses pop up all the time. We'll try a round of
standard anti-virals and if that doesn't work we'll worry
about it then, all right?" He loaded a hypospray and pressed
it to Danna's neck. "In the meantime if anyone else has
exhibited symptoms I want them to report here. Also, if you
have any problems I want you to see me - no trying to get
rid of it with some tea. I like a good cup as well as the
next person but I think this bug may warrant a bit more
aggressive measures on our part."

"Thank you, doctor." Danna said. rubbing his neck. He smiled
at Reven. "You know, I really like having a full-time doctor
here at the monastery."

"So do I," Reven agreed. "I'm busy enough caring for
four-legged creatures without having to keep up with
two-legged ones as well."

"Just relax, get plenty of rest and fluids and I want you
back here tomorrow so I can see if the anti-virals are
working," Julian said. "You should be fine."

"I'll talk to Lum and the others about sending any children
who have had colds this past month over to you, doctor,"
Danna promised.

"There are hard candies in the cupboard," Reven said as he
helped Danna off the table and headed for the door with him.
"Do us all a favor and when handing them out to the
children, use them sparingly. There are only twelve of us
and fifty of them. Too much sugar and we'll have a riot on
our hands."

"I promise," Julian said, watching them leave. He turned
back to the microscope and looked at the virus again.

Julian was not a connoisseur of art. He enjoyed the odd
museum and he could appreciate a fine painting as well as
the next person, but he'd never really been attracted to
art. Artists, yes, but not the things they created. On the
walls of his quarters hung the standard paintings that hung
on every wall of every Starfleet vessel and installation.
They came with the room. Most of the people he knew took
them down five minutes after being assigned quarters and
replaced them with a favorite print or pictures from home.
Not Julian. A two-dimensional snapshot or artist's rendering
of some random moment in time bored him. But this virion:
this was art he could appreciate.

It breathed, it lived, it was a tiny universe which flowed
and grew within the body of its host. It was gleaming beauty
and perfect symmetry; it sparkled and swept through the
bloodstream like a malevolent ruby. His relationship with
these marvelous little monsters was one of both admiration
and loathing. As a doctor and an infectious disease expert
his job was to kill this beautiful living fractal, but if he
were an art lover this is what he would hang on his wall.

It wasn't like any other virus he'd seen. It certainly
didn't look like any of the common Bajoran viruses he was
used to. It was unnaturally symmetrical for one thing:
highly uncommon for most viruses no matter what their
origin. He adjusted the microscope to examine the virion at
a higher magnification: what he saw almost took his breath
away. Its smooth curves and flowing lines made him think
more of an ancient Hebetian cathedral, or perhaps an
Andorian ice hotel, than a work of nature. Or was that it?
He zoomed out again. It was perfect: too perfect, too
ordered to be a virus in the wild, but what would be the
point of recreating the common cold?

Dozens of theories popped into his head but none of them
seemed plausible. Reven said the Bajoran children had gotten
over this bug fairly quickly; it was the hybrids who were
experiencing its lingering effects, but they were so mild...

He selected a strand of RNA and magnified one section, then
re-adjusted the scanner to focus on one anomalous nucleic
acid pair. Strange: uracil was normally found paired with
adenine, not xanthine, and to make matters worse the
molecule he'd found wasn't even typical Bajoran xanthine. He
leaned back in his chair and scratched his head in
confusion. Maybe it was a holdover from the Occupation? A
failed Bajoran attempt at biowarfare that resulted in
nothing more than night sweats and sniffles?

No, this kind of technology was far more advanced than
anything the Bajorans ever could have attempted with their
limited resources, especially during the Occupation. The
Cardassians' one saving grace was their disdain for
biochemical warfare. They considered it hard to control and
inexact. That meant this probably wasn't Cardassian either.
Breen? No. Romulan? Vulcan? Perhaps something closer to home
like a Ferengi virus?

That could be the answer, Julian thought. The Bajorans were
so resistant to these types of viruses that it might have
mutated as a survival technique after hopping off some alien
traveler, mutating until it found its way to the orphanage.
That was possible, plausible even.

There was evidence that it attacked the sinuses first, and
the Ferengi were most susceptible to those types of
infections. The Bajoran respiratory system, on the other
hand, was highly resistant to infection and one of their
strongest natural defenses. The distinct ridges upon the
Bajoran's noses were the outward appearance of a complex set
of filters located inside of their sinuses.

Hybrids were not as fortunate with their less well-defined
respiratory filter systems. Perhaps, he mused, that was why
the effects of the virus were so much more pronounced in
those with Cardassian ancestry. He'd have to get samples
from all the full-blooded Bajoran children who had
complained of flu or cold symptoms in the past two months
and compare them to the hybrid children with similar
symptoms.

He stared into the mysterious red world of his newest
obsession, willing it to give up its secrets, but it
remained silent. When Kela came to fetch him for dinner he'd
looked up at the chrono only to realize he'd been working on
it for nearly five hours.

It's just a virus, he told himself as he reluctantly shut
off the scanner to follow the little girl to the dining
hall. It's not like you don't have more important things to
do.

---

Okuna looked down into the microscope again and tried to
unravel what he was seeing. Infectious diseases were not his
specialty and this was definitely a virion he was looking
at. It looked like it had been genetically manipulated -
something he was familiar with - but not in a way he'd ever
seen before. Ziyal said she had been experiencing cold-like
symptoms for at least three months but she hadn't paid much
attention to them, since they'd come and gone a few times.
Runny noses and the occasional chill were the norm for a
person of Cardassian blood living on DS9.

She was used to the warmer weather of the slave colony where
she grew up; to her, the station was always kept a bit on
the cold side. Bajor was a temperate planet and the
Starfleet uniforms were rather warm so the thermostats were
set on the low end of comfortable for them. For Cardassians
and other species used to warmer climates, it could be quite
nippy.

It wasn't until she became pregnant that the symptoms
suddenly increased. It was as though the rush of hormones
she was experiencing was feeding the virion and causing it
to mutate - as if they were activating some process within
the virus.

Whatever this was, it was killing her. Her organs were in
the early stages of shutting down. She was now a diabetic.
Her pancreas and liver had both begun to fail and she was
insulin-resistant. They had administered the diabetes
vaccine but it had only slowed the process down slightly.
Her endocrine system was also now completely compromised by
the virus, and there was evidence that she was having
trouble converting amino acids. They had placed her on a
low-protein diet but it was still too early to see if it
would have any effect. Metabolic acidosis was inevitable if
they couldn't figure something out and soon.

He glanced over to where Ziyal was sitting up on the biobed.
Jake had his arm around her shoulders and they were talking
to Vedek Halan. They looked so happy.

What the fuck were they going to do?

Girani had come in early this morning, supposedly to check
on Ziyal. At least that is what she *said*. He wasn't stupid
though. She was exactly forty-five minutes early-her way of
showing him that she hadn't forgotten or forgiven his
tardiness the day before. This one time he was thankful for
Girani's bad attitude and rigid nature.

He walked into the office, letting the door close behind
him.

She looked up. "What?"

His face was grim. "We have to bring in Bashir."

Girani sighed. "You know as well as I do, Okuna, what's
going to happen the minute Dr. Bashir sets foot on the
station."

"Yeah, MacKelroy is going to shit a brick and go into his
speech about how he's supposed to be on suspension," Okuna
said. "But that guy is also up his own ass and on a total
power trip."

"And when Sisko gets back-"

"Dr. Girani, Ziyal will die unless we get this bug under
control and fast. Even if she lasts long enough for Captain
Sisko to come back and send MacKelroy packing, the damage
will be done. This thing, whatever the hell it is, is
progressing fast and, although I can't prove it, I think the
hormones from the pregnancy are causing the rate of
metabolic deterioration to advance exponentially." Okuna's
expression was one of extreme agitation and he began to pace
back and forth in a ragged cadence. "Are you willing to
terminate this pregnancy now - and ignore the fact that we
could save two lives - just because some asshat with a
commission is throwing his weight around? I mean, my God:
even if we go to this guy and say we have a patient who
could die if we don't get some fucking help he'll probably
just say she's a Bajoran national and it's not our concern!"

Girani's mouth tightened. "Save it; I'm sold, Okuna. I know
and you know that the closest doctor who could even come
close to having Dr. Bashir's level of experience with
infectious diseases is on the Venture and she's under comm
silence while they're out running drills. It will take a
week for someone else to get here and Bashir is less than an
hour away-I know this. I also know it's probably an exercise
in futility."

"So...do you want to call him or should I?"

"Prophets, but you're a pain in my ass, Okuna. No wonder
your girlfriend dumped you."

Okuna's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You heard about
that?"

"Never tell Perreira something that you want to keep on the
down low," Girani said with a superior air. "Besides,
everyone knows she's been sleeping with the first officer on
the Venture for the last month."

"Seriously?" Okuna said faintly.

Girani turned on the comm monitor and dialed the monastery.
"If you didn't know that, then you really are an idiot." she
said, her voice devoid of sympathy. "I don't mean to sound
cold, but she's a *dabo girl* and you've been on Bajor
chasing after Garak for the last three months. What did you
expect her to do? Knit you some mittens and keep warm with a
good book?" She rolled her eyes and snorted.

"You know, Girani, of all your wonderful qualities, the ones
I admire most are your tact and generosity of spirit," Okuna
said, his voice heavily laden with sarcasm.

"I just believe in cutting through the crap and getting to
the point, Okuna."

//Bashir// Julian's image appeared on the view screen.

"We have a problem."

---

"Damn." Julian looked at the image of the virion Girani sent
him and pulled up the one he'd isolated in Danna's blood the
day before.

//You've seen this virus before, doctor?// Okuna asked.

"I've seen it," Julian confirmed grimly. "But what I've seen
is obviously an earlier stage of the infection. You said
Ziyal has experienced symptoms on and off for a few months?"

//Correct. We asked her why she didn't seek medical
attention earlier and she said she didn't think it was
serious enough to mention,// Girani answered.

"Not to sound like a proponent of nature over nurture, but
I'm beginning to believe it's hardwired into Cardassian DNA
to avoid seeking medical treatment until the last bloody
minute." Julian scowled, "If I'm right, we may have a
full-scale outbreak down here. Jake said Ziyal had been down
here a lot in the last few months. Chances are she's Patient
Zero but I need to come up there to confirm it."

//Um, slight problem with that.// Okuna broke in. //The
'temporary' CO is on a power trip and he's especially
fixated on you and distancing this installation from all
things Bajoran.//

Julian frowned. "I'm sorry?"

//The reason your shipment was delayed was because MacKelroy
put a moratorium on all 'relief supplies' going to Bajor and
especially anything with your name on it,// Girani
explained. //I had to ask Vedek Halan to have it sent under
his name just to get it on a transport.//

"That would explain the toys..." Julian said faintly. "Why
is he so fixated with me? I've never met the man."

//He's Ross's boy and Ross must not be happy with Sisko
shuffling you around is all we can figure. MacKelroy is a by
the book guy and from what I gather-//

"My book is cooked, I get it." Julian ran his hand through
his short, curly hair in agitation. "Well, he'll just have
to deal with it. Ziyal is my patient and I'm still a doctor.
If I have to come up as a civilian I will. I have to bring
in Garak's reports anyway-"

"Dr. Julian!" Lewin came rushing in with Kela and several
other children trailing behind him.

"What's wrong?" Julian asked.

"Your ship just took off by itself!"

Julian turned back to the monitor and said, "I'll comm you
right back," before shutting it off and rushing outside. By
the time he got there the small runabout he'd had parked
outside the gates of the monastery was long gone.
"Shi-shoot!" He glanced at the kids standing around him
apologetically then slapped the comm badge that was pinned
to his sweater, "Bashir to the Yalobusha."

Nothing.

"Bashir to the pilot of the Yalobusha: respond!"

Again, no answer.

"It's on autopilot - fuck!"

A little girl standing near him gasped and pointed. "Dr.
Julian said a real bad word!"

He growled something unintelligible then stomped back to the
Infirmary. He was so infuriated that he failed to notice
when he left that Lewin had broken off from the crowd of
children and was running toward Garak's cabin.

He reached for the monitor; within seconds he was looking
into the face of his new nemesis, Commander MacKelroy.

//Dr. Bashir, I presume.//

"What gave it away?" Julian asked in a clipped tone.

//Lots of things,// MacKelroy said in a bored tone as he
typed on a PADD distractedly. //The British accent, the fact
that you're in civvies and calling a direct line to my
office, and lastly that I gave the order for the runabout
you misappropriated to be recalled not more than five
minutes ago and here you are.//

"Misappropriated?!?" he repeated in outrage. "I was
*assigned* that transport by Captain Sisko, my superior
officer and the man whose chair you are temporarily
occupying! If I don't have that transport how in the hell am
I supposed to do my job?!?"

//You are on suspension, doctor, pending a hearing to remove
you from service with Starfleet. You no longer have a job.
As such, you don't have any rights to any Starfleet assets,
much less a valuable piece of equipment like the runabout.//

"I may be on personal leave from my duties in the station's
infirmary, *Commander*, but I have been assigned as Garak's
Starfleet liaison under the direction of Admiral Nechayev -
a person whom I know for a fact outranks both you and
Admiral Ross!" Julian responded angrily.

//Garak is a Bajoran asset. First Minister Shakaar was
adamant about that as I recall. As I see it, there is no
need for a Starfleet liaison to be assigned to him. If the
Bajorans want to keep him so badly then they can waste their
own manpower and resources mollycoddling him, not ours. We
have our own code-breakers in Intelligence. If you think
I've overstepped my authority with that decision, then take
it up with Admiral Nechayev, doctor.// MacKelroy said in a
disinterested tone. //She's at the Peace Summit. As soon as
it breaks, in ten days or so, she can assign you a
Galaxy-class starship for all I care. Until then the
runabout is my asset and I'm reclaiming it.//

"I have a patient lying in a biobed on the station who needs
me!" he roared.

MacKelroy tilted his head at him curiously. //Doctor, you
don't have anything on this station anymore, much less a
patient. Or didn't Captain Sisko explain to you what 'six
months of suspension' means?//

Julian gritted his teeth. "What the hell is your problem,
MacKelroy?"

//You want to know what my problem is, doctor?// MacKelroy
asked coolly. //I'll tell you what my problem is. I find it
disturbing to see that Starfleet officers have strayed so
far from regulations that they have allowed a person like
you, who is a security risk and obviously has been for a
very long time, to put the entire Alpha Quadrant in
jeopardy: that's my problem.// He shook his head in disgust.
//How someone like you even got into the 'fleet is beyond
me.//

"And what kind of person am I, MacKelroy?" he challenged.
"I'm curious, especially since you know me so well."

MacKelroy's voice lowered. //I'll tell you what you are,
Bashir. You are a disgrace to the uniform, that's what you
are.//

"I'm afraid I'm not as familiar with your service record,
Commander, as you are with mine. Exactly how many
commendations and medals have you racked up flying a desk,
MacKelroy?" he shot back, his temper escalating to a rolling
boil. "I'm guessing the answer is none! You're nothing but a
glorified bean counter, MacKelroy! You certainly aren't a
commander - you don't have the brains or the strength of
character to handle a position which requires both diplomacy
and leadership! You want to waltz into Sisko's job and throw
your weight around but you have no clue, not one! of what it
takes to command in a forward area! You just got lucky
enough to be promoted to the highest level of your
incompetence!"

MacKelroy's face got redder and redder as Julian had
obviously struck home with several of his barbs. //You know
what, Bashir? The only reason you got all those medals and
commendations is because you were programmed to!//

"So the fact that I'm genetically enhanced bothers you?"

//That's not what this is about, Bashir! I don't care enough
about you to be bothered by whatever the hell it is you are
- I have the *right* to cut you off because the simple fact
is you don't work here anymore! You being a genetically
engineered freak has no bearing on that!// he snapped.
//Tell you the truth, I don't really give a shit about the
fact that you're nothing but a glorified medical android!
What bothers me is that you flounced around this station
like you were leading some gay pride Mardi Gras, threw
yourself at an enemy combatant for five years, then left
this station wide open to Founder infiltration and Sisko
*still* didn't have the balls to discipline you himself! I
would have had you tossed out on your ass five minutes after
you walked through my door!//

"Where in the hell do you get off-?" Julian's voice was as
cold as ice.

//You'd think that if your parents were so concerned about
their son being a defective they would have spent a few
extra credits and fixed you so you'd grow up and become a
man and not some prancing, namby-pamby, weak-wristed limy
fop who fell into a Cardassian's bed the second he set foot
on the station! My God, Bashir - you couldn't even control
yourself enough to pick one of your own? You had to bed a
Cardie? No wonder the Founders picked you! Of this whole
freak show Sisko has up here you're the worst!// MacKelroy's
voice was heavily laced with scorn. //I mean, here Sisko is
setting himself up as the black Moses to the Bajoran yokels,
a fucking Founder is playing sheriff on the Promenade when
he should be sitting in someone's sample tray, and you -
five minutes after you get suspended you've got Sisko
sending you down to Bajor so you can play the little woman
to your Cardie lover again. What's with that, Bashir? Were
you blowing Sisko under the desk, too?//

"Fuck you!" Julian shouted as he smashed his fist into the
monitor's off button, then picked up a padd and hurled it
across the room. "Shit!!"

"Feel better?" Garak asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

"No!" His mouth tightened into a thin line as he turned to
look at the Cardassian. "Ziyal is sick, Garak. She may be
dying and that - that piece of *shite* is making it
impossible for me to get to her because he's nothing but a
bigoted prick who shouldn't be in charge of a latrine, much
less Deep Space Nine!"

Garak stepped forward, his body tensing. "Ziyal's sick?"

"Yes," Julian answered, suddenly feeling defeated, "and
she's not the only one." He explained the situation to Garak
as quickly as he could while sparing none of the pertinent
information.

Garak listened intently before speaking. "Can your team
bring her down here for treatment?"

"Where? The monastery?" Julian asked incredulously. "Look
around, Garak! Do you see what I'm working with down here?
She needs an advanced medical facility. All the infected do
if what's happening to her is anything to go by!"

Garak thought about that for a moment. "Can I use your comm
unit?"

"Why?"

"I'm going to see if I have any more favors I can call in.
In the meantime we need to comm Quark's."

"Quark's?" Julian stared at him. "What can Quark do?"

"It's not Quark I need to speak to." Garak said.

"Then who?"

"Morn."

---
CHAPTER FIVE: Rebellion
---

Girani and Okuna helped Jake move Ziyal into the cabin of
Morn's small freighter as Perreira finished securing the
last of the equipment and diagnostic tools Bashir would need
- at least until he could get Ziyal settled somewhere on
Bajor, that is. None of them were operating under the
illusion that the meager supplies they were able to smuggle
out of the Infirmary would help much, but Okuna hoped they
would help Bashir at least figure out what it was they were
dealing with.

Morn was kind enough to show Perreira exactly where to load
the medical equipment - somewhere that would be hidden from
view during a normal inspection and shielded with high-grade
duranium that would resist all but the most intensive
tricorder scans. Odo, of course, already knew of Morn's
little hideaway, but Okuna seriously doubted the constable
would be tempted to point it out to anyone in case MacKelroy
came looking.

As he watched Girani talk to Jake and Ziyal one last time,
he resisted the urge to let loose with a back-breaking yawn.
With Bashir gone and the Venture on patrol, they were
working thirteen-hour shifts with Perreira working late
morning to late evening mid-shift. The Venture would be back
sometime tonight, but these long hours were still getting to
him. His shift should have ended six hours ago and he was
exhausted.

Not just exhausted--the lack of sleep was making him go a
little loopy. Earlier when Girani dropped a PADD and bent
over to pick it up he actually caught himself ogling her
ass. Girani, for God's sake! That woman might have the body
of a centerfold, but she had the attitude of a
battle-scarred Klingon. He was just hard up, he reasoned. He
hadn't gotten laid since Alita dumped him a month and a half
ago and he was still adjusting from live-in pussy to Fistina
and her five sisters.

Bitter? Oh hell yeah. That and horny, but as hard up as he
was, sleeping with Girani was the last thing he'd ever do.
Not in a million years. I like my balls just the way they
are, he thought. Not busted up and tucked in the queen bitch
of the medical profession's back pocket.

Okuna couldn't resist the urge to let out a yawn and was
rewarded by Girani throwing him a rebuking look. Bite me,
lady, he thought. You've only been on duty six hours, I'm on
my nineteenth.

"You know, I'm surprised MacKelroy hasn't caught on to us
yet," Perreira said from inside Morn's ship.

As if on cue, MacKelroy walked out of the turbolifts with a
couple of Starfleet security officers in tow. "Doctors, you
aren't at your post. The Infirmary is empty. I assume you
have a reason for this?"

"We're loading a patient for transport," Girani said
tersely.

"On a freighter?" he asked, eyeing the ship with disdain.
"And I assume you have authorization to move this patient?
Oh no, that's right; you don't. I should know because I
didn't give you permission to do so."

"Since when do we have to ask permission from the CO to move
one of our patients to Bajor?" Girani asked, outraged.

"She's a Bajoran national and the daughter of Gul Dukat -
who, I might add, is a fugitive from Federation justice.
Tora Ziyal is staying here and that's final," MacKelroy
said, eyeballing Girani hard. "Should anything happen to her
mid-transport we'd have an interplanetary incident on our
hands."

"She needs medical care on Bajor that could save her life!"

"And she can receive better medical care in some backwater
hospital on Bajor than she can in a state of the art
Starfleet Infirmary?" MacKelroy asked in a dubious tone. "I
doubt that, doctor. Either you get her back into the
Infirmary or I'll throw all of you in the brig, understood?"

"You have no authority-"

"I have all the authority I need, Dr. Girani. Now I want you
and Dr. Okuna-"

"Excuse me," Okuna said, lifting his hand in protest. "But
I'm off duty and have been since 0500 this morning.
Starfleet regulations state that unless I am on call or we
are engaged in a medical emergency, my off-time is my own.
Perreira is off duty as well. This is his scheduled lunch
hour. You may be able to order Dr. Girani to return to her
post, but as long as we aren't violating any express
regulations, Perreira and I are free to go where ever we
want."

"You're off duty?"

"Yes, sir," Okuna answered. "And right now we're here to see
our friend Jake and his fiancé Ziyal off to Bajor."

Jake stepped out of the transport, his face grim as he eyed
the Commander with distaste. "My fiancé and I are private
citizens and are not under anyone's command, nor have we
been arrested. Unless you want to explain to a Starfleet
disciplinary tribunal why you illegally detained a citizen
of the Federation and a citizen of Bajor from seeking a
medical second opinion while using a privately owned mode of
transport, I suggest you scurry back to whatever rock you
crawled out from under."

"You're Ben Sisko's boy?" MacKelroy asked.

"I'm his *son*. I haven't been a boy for a while," Jake shot
back.

"Do you think your old man will be happy to know you hooked
up with Gul Dukat's illegitimate daughter while he was
away?"

He glared at MacKelroy. "I think that it's none of your
business, Commander. Now are you going to arrest us or are
you going to step off?"

"Fine," MacKelroy said. "You want to take your little hybrid
bride off to Bajor, be my guest. However, that doesn't let
your friends here off the hook. Okuna, Perreira; you have
five minutes to get out of here. Consider yourselves
restricted to quarters until the Venture docks and we can
get a replacement medical crew. Then I'm shipping you both
back to Headquarters to face charges of gross
insubordination. Girani, I can't court-martial you, but I
can have you arrested for dereliction of duty."

"Bullshit," Girani said. "I'm a doctor affiliated with the
Bajoran Militia. You have no authority over me. None. Only
Major Kira has the right to cite me for dereliction."

"But this is my station and I can have you removed by force
from it if necessary."

"No need," Girani said tossing her comm badge at him. "I
quit. You can go fuck yourself, MacKelroy."

Perreira stepped out from behind Jake and moved to Girani's
side. He slipped off his comm badge and tossed it so it
landed beside Girani's. "I hereby resign my commission as
well, sir."

"That goes for me, too," Okuna said, tossing off his badge
and moving to join his colleagues.

"I could have all of you tossed in the brig for this, but to
tell you the truth we'd be better off without you. The
prototype LMH Dr. Zimmerman installed should be able to
cover the Infirmary until the Venture docks," MacKelroy said
with a small, mean smile. "Get off my station and if you set
foot on it again, I'll have you arrested."

"We'll miss you, too, velhaco," Perreira muttered, climbing
back into Morn's shuttle.

"When my dad gets back you are going to have a lot to answer
for, MacKelroy," Jake said.

MacKelroy just smirked. "Make sure they leave within the
next five minutes or impound that vehicle and put them all
in a holding cell," he instructed the security officers then
walked back into the turbolifts and left.

"Sorry about this, Dan," one of the security officers said
to Okuna.

"It's all right, Joe. Do me a favor and let Major Kira know
what happened? See if she can have some of our clothes and
stuff sent to the monastery," Okuna said, shaking the man's
hand before following Girani up the steps of Morn's ship.
When he settled down into the tight space he turned to his
companions and said, "I've got some clothes still down
there. Until you guys get some sent down you can wear mine."

"I am not borrowing your underwear, Okuna," Girani said
wearily.

"Like I want to share my gonch with you, Girani," Okuna
retorted. "I was offering you a t-shirt or something,
Christ."

"Thank you for doing this for us," Jake said quietly beside
Ziyal.

"I can't believe you quit your jobs for me," Ziyal said,
near tears.

"No big deal," Perreira said from the front of the cabin
beside Morn. "I was planning on quitting anyway. I always
had a dream of becoming an underwear model back on Earth."
He curled his arm to show off his muscles. "All this is just
wasted under a uniform."

"Cool it, Perreira," Girani complained. "I don't need motion
sickness before we even take off."

"Did you catch the look on that monga's face when you told
him to go fuck himself? I swear the babaca looked happy."
Perreira snorted.

"He probably thought it was a compliment," Girani muttered.

"Light her up, Morn," Okuna said, settling back in his seat.
"Go slow and wake me up when we get to Bajor."

The lumbering alien gave him the thumbs up from the
captain's chair and started the engines.

---

The small ship arrived at the monastery an hour later. Garak
and Julian met them outside the gates along with Brother
Reven and Sister Marjay, who was the monastery's small
animal veterinarian and part-time assistant in the
children's infirmary.

After moving Ziyal to a cabin and getting her and Jake
settled, they said their goodbyes to Morn, whose vessel was
loaded down with several cases of aged Aguaba wine and ale,
then retired to the dining hall.

"Sorry about the sandwiches," Sister Marjay said as she and
Reven set several platters of cold cuts, salads, and
freshly-baked bread on the table in front of them. "Mid meal
isn't for another few hours and snacks around here usually
consist of just fruit and cakes but we figured you might
need something more substantial than that."

"Are you kidding? This is great!" Perreira said, grabbing
some bread and loading it up with thin slices of braga fowl
and spicy Tongolian mustard. "I can't even remember the last
time I ate something that wasn't replicated."

"So you all just quit?" Bashir asked. "No one is on duty in
the Infirmary?"

"The LMH is still there," Okuna said, piling his own
sandwich high.

"I thought Miles and Zimmerman uninstalled that thing,"
Julian said with a frown.

Okuna shrugged. "I guess they didn't."

"MacKelroy seemed fairly confident it was still there,"
Girani said, scooping some salad onto her plate. She paused.
"What about Jake and Ziyal? Did anyone tell them there was
food-?"

The sister smiled and nodded. "One of the other monks
brought a tray to their cabin - just salad and low-protein
foods for Ziyal as per your instructions. I'm on my way over
there now to sit with her."

"Good, she hasn't been eating well lately," Girani said,
digging into her lunch.

"Thank you, sister," Okuna said as the monk left.

Garak leaned in. "How sick is Ziyal?" he asked.

"And what does this mean for Danna and the others?" Reven
added.

"We just don't know yet," Julian said, sipping his tea. "I
need to get samples from everyone - and that includes all of
you. Morn's species is resistant to viruses so I didn't keep
him here, but I want the rest of us tested. I don't have any
of the virions in my blood stream but that doesn't mean it
can't be carried by human hosts."

"Could the genetic enhancements be making you more
resistant?" Perreira asked, then flushed. "Um, sorry doc. I
didn't mean to..."

"It's okay. I thought of that and that's why I need the rest
of you tested. We do know Bajorans can carry it - Reven has
antibodies in his system but I haven't been able to use them
to create a workable vaccine. That means all of you are
under quarantine with the rest of us until we figure this
out."

"It's not like we have anywhere else to be," Okuna said with
a shrug.

Perreira groaned. "My sister Eva is going to have a cow when
she finds out I walked off the job. She already thinks I'm
wasting my life being a surgical nurse - I can hear her comm
message now."

"I say screw our careers," Girani said, spearing a chunk of
vegetable with a fork. "The job is about saving patients,
not about kissing up to some asshole who wants to be the
Federation's version of Gul Dukat. That guy is seriously
trying to start another Occupation."

"Has he been screened?" Garak asked.

"First thing I checked on after his little 'staff meeting'
the other day," Girani said ruefully. "He's human - barely,
but he checks clean."

"His behavior doesn't make any sense," Garak said quietly.
"It's as though he's attempting to purposefully undermine
everything Sisko and the rest of you have accomplished since
coming to Bajoran space. If he's not a Founder, then what
would be his motivation for breaking down Sisko's command
and forcing out his senior officers?"

"He's a megalomaniac?" Perreira suggested, taking a big bite
out of his sandwich.

"Possibly, but from the way all of you have described him he
isn't stupid - narrow-minded and rigid, but not stupid.
There is a method to his madness, to quote a famous
Klingon."

"You think we made a mistake quitting like that?" Okuna
asked.

Garak shook his head. "He didn't give you a choice, but all
of this is too coincidental for my tastes. I do know that
this all starts with Dr. Bashir. He's who MacKelroy seems to
be focused on. And Zimmerman exposing him? The timing of
that bothers me." He turned to Julian. "You returned from
the prison asteroid, saving the Alpha Quadrant in the
process, and received a medal from the Provisional
Government and a Starfleet commendation. Then suddenly
Zimmerman showed up, apparently to discredit you. Dr. Okuna
said he didn't seem to want to be there, that he had planned
to make himself the model for the LMH program and was
reluctant to involve you at all."

"That's true." Okuna looked at Bashir. "We didn't want to
burst your bubble about being the model for the LMH but
every time you turned your back that guy was bad-mouthing
you. It was like he wanted to dig up dirt on you."

"I sensed that, actually," Julian said wryly. "He wasn't
exactly subtle."

"And he was hard up for research grants," Perreira said. "I
walked in on him talking to someone on the comm unit and
demanding he get his grant approved or he was heading back
to Jupiter Station. Next thing you know, Leeta was telling
people that after knowing her for all of two seconds this
guy wanted to set her up with a café of her own. That seemed
a little funny, but at the time I thought the spiel he laid
on her about 'taking her away from all this' was just
another line of merda, and not a very creative one either."

"Still," Garak said after finishing his tea, "if we look
only at the events of the past week, we can see a thread
running through it all. First, Captain Sisko was ordered by
Admiral Ross to place Dr. Bashir on a six-month suspension.
Then he was called away from the station unexpectedly and
replaced by MacKelroy, who, as you may know, is Ross's
wife's nephew."

Bashir's eyes met Girani's; he hadn't realized that.

"Upon his arrival on Deep Space Nine," Garak continued,
"Commander MacKelroy immediately began to undermine the
relationship between the Federation and Bajor, as if that
were the first item on his hidden agenda."

"And the only senior officers in the sector are off on away
missions," Okuna added. "And they're under comm silence."

"Which I don't believe is a coincidence," Garak said. "But
even though he had a station to run and he was suddenly in
charge of Starfleet's presence in this sector, he also took
the time out to persecute you, Dr. Bashir." He pinned Julian
with a look.

"Well, he sure seems to have been paying the Infirmary a
hell of a lot of attention," Girani snorted. "The minute we
all left, he tracked us down *and* he brought security with
him!"

Garak nodded. "And that's an important point: he's done
everything possible to interfere with Dr. Bashir's duties,
but he's also done his best to interfere with the jobs of
those trying to help him. Everything else, including his
ostensible duties as station commander, seems to have gone
by the wayside. We have to ask ourselves why he targeted the
Infirmary, of all places."

"But what about the virus? I see where you're going with
this theory, but MacKelroy can't be behind it. It's
definitely manufactured, yes, but even the Federation
doesn't have the level of technology needed to create
something that sophisticated," Julian pointed out.

"MacKelroy's a filho da puta in any case," Perreira said,
munching on his salad.

"MacKelroy might not be able to cut his way out of a brown
paper sack if you spotted him the scissors, but the Founders
can," Okuna said quietly. "I've looked at that thing
upside-down and sideways - it reminds me of something I saw
in connection to Founder technology but I can't remember
what."

"Son of a-" Julian jumped up from the table and headed
toward the infirmary. The rest of them exchanged looks then
went to follow him.

Julian was looking at the image of the virion on the
scanner. Beside it was a similar image, only this one was
blue.

"What is that?" Okuna said, coming closer. "Wait, that's-"

"Exactly."

"I don't understand," Reven said with a frown.

"When the Jem'Hadar are created," Julian explained, "they
are born without certain isogenic enzymes. A drug called
ketracel white allows them to live but they can't be off it
for long without going through a withdrawal process that
damages their organs leading to -"

"Metabolic acidosis - fuck." Okuna said. "We never even
thought of connecting the two."

"We didn't have time," Girani said with a scowl. "In the
last few days MacKelroy has kept us jumping through hoops.
Can we convert the ketracel white into some kind of medicine
to treat Ziyal?"

"I don't know," Julian said. "I can look into treating her
with yridium bicantizine and see if that relieves the
symptoms but it's a long shot."

"Um, I don't know if I should bring this up or not, but..."
Okuna looked at Garak from the corner of his eye.

Girani sighed. "Do it."

"Ziyal's pregnant," Okuna said at last. "Won't the white
hurt the fetus?"

"Ziyal is pregnant?" Garak asked in surprise.

"She was afraid you would be disappointed in her if you
found out," Okuna said.

"I'll have to speak to her later," Garak said, suddenly
looking very tired. "But for the record, I would never hurt
her by rejecting her like that."

Okuna shrugged. "I tried to tell her that but she was
afraid."

Julian watched the interplay between Garak and Okuna and had
to extinguish the momentary flare of jealousy he felt toward
the younger physician. Once upon a time he and Garak used to
discuss matters in that way. "I'll look at that as an option
but I doubt it will work. The Hadar's physiology is
completely different and the white is specifically designed
to work only for them."

"Hey!" Perreira cried. "Not to interrupt, but if MacKelroy's
not a Founder then what would be the point of his advancing
their agenda?"

"Just because this is based upon Founder technology doesn't
mean it is a Founder creation," Garak pointed out. "It all
started with you." He turned to Julian. "Your research into
the ketracel white, perhaps?"

Julian shook his head, "I'm months, possibly years from a
solution."

"It has to do with Ross, too," Okuna said, pacing a bit and
tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Something besides Sisko
going over his head to Gilhouley must have set him off."

"Gilhouley..." Julian wracked his brain trying to think of
anything of significance that linked the Admiral to what
he'd been researching. "I've only spoken to the admiral once
and that was right after the Founder impersonating me was
killed. All of my research goes through Admiral Nechayev's
office."

Garak frowned. "What did you talk about?"

Julian leaned his elbow on the desk and turned to Garak. "It
was about what the Founder said before he died; about how
the Federation planned the destruction of the Founder home
world and used Cardassia as a front. Some shadow group was
supposedly behind it all, remember? Section 31."

Garak's mouth tightened in a thin line. "31, of course."

"You've heard of them; I remember you all but said so to the
Founder." Julian looked at him carefully. "Gilhouley told me
there was no such group operating within Starfleet."

"Section 31 is very real, doctor," Garak answered grimly.
"They don't operate in the open. They aren't even classified
as a covert ops group like the Obsidian Order or the Tal
Shiar. They're more like an illegal terrorist organization
run by a few 'patriots' who feel that the Federation's
ideals are a bit naďve when it comes to dealing with other
intelligence organizations and hostile governments."

Okuna stopped pacing and looked from Garak to Julian. "So
Gilhouley told Ross that Dr. Bashir mentioned Section 31 and
that set this whole thing off?"

"No," Julian answered, slumping slightly in his chair in
front of the monitor. "Fuck - I told him. When I sent in my
report I mentioned Section 31 even though I had the feeling
at the time that Gilhouley was trying to warn me off. I
caused this."

"Okay," Girani said, leaning on the edge of the desk on the
other side of Julian "I get the fact that this Section 31
tried to discredit Julian by enlisting Zimmerman to dig up
dirt, but what does that have to do with the virus?"

Julian thought about that for a minute. "I've been testing
Reven's blood samples against Danna's. Reven had the virus
but his body was able to fight it off. Danna, however, still
has the virus."

"Danna is part Cardassian," Reven said from beside Perreira,
"as is Ziyal."

"This is directed toward the Cardassians?" Perreira asked.
"Why? Since Dukat went underground the Cardassians have been
defending their borders against the Jem'Hadar just like we
have."

"But if there's one thing we learned during the Occupation
it's that Cardassians are always looking at different
angles," Girani said. "They'll do whatever it takes;
anything and everything to advance themselves or Cardassia."

"Exactly," Julian said with a scowl. "Right now the powers
that be are resisting the Dominion influence, but it's just
a matter of time before someone else with Dukat's mindset
decides to take up where he left off and set themselves up
as the supreme ruler of Cardassia and backed by the
Dominion."

"Goris was very vocal in calling Dukat a traitor and has
denounced his plans of bringing Cardassia into the
Dominion," Garak said, "but Revok, even though he appears to
be supporting Goris at the moment, is just as ambitious as
Dukat. It wouldn't surprise me if Goris wound up with
Revok's blade buried in his back. This is merely
speculation, but if I were a member of Section 31 I know why
I would set loose this type of virus. It appears harmless to
everyone but those with Cardassian blood. I think it's safe
to say that Cardassia and not the hybrid population on Bajor
is the real target of this virus."

"Then how did Ziyal and the rest of us get exposed?" Reven
asked.

"What if Dukat was Patient Zero, not Ziyal?" Julian asked.
"His behavior was a bit off right before he disappeared, at
least from what I was told, and he hasn't been seen since.
What if Dukat became infected first, then passed it to
Ziyal, and Ziyal passed it on to everyone else?"

"Why didn't I get sick?" Garak asked.

"I don't know. I need to get a sample of your blood and
see."

"How do we know it was this Section 31 and not the Founders
who started this plague?" Girani asked.

"Motivation," Garak replied. "Ziyal has been infected for
roughly three months. Had the Founder succeeded, he would
have destroyed Bajor. There would be no point in infecting
her. Also, the Dominion wishes to ally itself with
Cardassia; they have no reason to set a plague upon them.
Section 31, however, has used methods like this in the
past." He shook his head. "The intelligence community is
small but still we don't know much about this group except
that they bill themselves as judge, jury, and executioner
working for the good of the Federation."

"I find it hard to believe this group exists," Okuna said.
"The Federation just doesn't do things like that."

"It would be naive to assume we didn't," Julian said. "I
remember hearing a rumor about an Admiral Pressman a few
years back. He'd been testing some kind of illegal device
for a covert agency but no one ever mentioned what that
agency was."

"So how do we kill this thing?" Okuna asked.

"Since we can't turn to Starfleet for help, we need to turn
to the Bajoran government," Julian answered. "Get the
Ministry of Health involved and have them get us some
equipment and some more doctors."

Girani sighed. "Good luck. Shakaar gave Kira the runaround
when she asked him to step in and curb MacKelroy. They
aren't going to do anything to aggravate the situation
between us and the Federation. And since it's 'just' the
hybrids, don't expect a lot of sympathy."

"I think I know someone with the resources to help," Garak
said, obviously deep in thought. "Let's just hope he agrees
to do it."

---

"Deputy Minister Krath," Garak said as the comm unit
connected. "Thank you for taking my call."

//Mr. Garak - I'm sorry,// Krath apologized, //it's Brother
Elim now, isn't it?//

Garak nodded. "I need your help, sir."

//My help?//

"I would understand if you refused me Minister, but the
lives of several innocent Bajorans depend upon my asking."

Krath's forehead furrowed in concern. //Is this concerning
another threat by the Dominion?//

"Yes and no," Garak said after a moment, "I need to speak to
you not as a politician in this matter but as a private
citizen."

//It's hard to separate the two, Brother Elim,// Krath said,
looking at him curiously.

"In this case you may not have a choice. We have reason to
believe the hybrid children of Bajor are infected with an
engineered virus. It's killing them, Minister."

Krath scowled. //Is this related to the previous attempt on
Bajor by the Founders?//

"The virus is based on Founder technology, yes. However, we
have reason to suspect it may be a covert group with in the
Federation itself that is responsible for unleashing the
virus."

//Why would the Federation do something like that?// Krath
asked. //Last I looked we were allies.//

"Minister, the virus is not targeted toward the Bajorans but
toward those with Cardassian blood. The hybrid children are
merely innocent bystanders in this."

//I see.// Krath thought for a moment. //This is a
conundrum, Brother Elim. On one hand we're talking about the
lives of Bajoran citizens, but on the other hand the idea of
eliminating a virus that could rid Bajor of its greatest
enemy would make many of my fellow politicians err on the
side of caution. The good of the many, Brother Elim-//

"Outweighs the good of the few, and normally I would agree,"
Garak finished for him, "but these children do not deserve
to die because one shadow group has decided they are merely
collateral damage. As a politician I know that you have to
go with what is best for Bajor as a whole. That is why I am
asking you to save these lives as a private citizen. We need
resources and equipment, Minister. We need contacts and
doctors willing to help us fight this epidemic. You are a
man of wealth. You can provide these things for us if you
are willing." He gave him a significant look. "You once said
you felt some guilt over the death of the woman your former
wife and your publicist murdered, Vedek Merel's grandniece.
Minister, one of the children who could die from this plague
is the unborn grandchild of Benjamin Sisko, the Emissary of
the Prophets. You had no power to stop the murder of Kel
Sinles, Minister Krath, but you can help save these
children."

Krath stared at him long and hard. //You fight dirty,
Brother Elim.//

"I do when I have no other choice," Garak agreed.

//And the Federation will not offer you any assistance?//
Krath asked.

"The new commander, this MacKelroy -"

//Oh, yes; Shakaar was just briefing me on him,// Krath said
grimly.

"We have reason to suspect he's a willing participant in
this conspiracy," Garak said. "I don't know how deep this
goes, but I doubt we'll be able to get outside help here in
time. We need to handle this ourselves."

//Bajor for Bajor, fighting to keep Bajoran assets Bajoran -
this is starting to mirror one of my campaign speeches.//

"Will you help?" Garak asked.

Krath sighed. //I'll brief Shakaar - unofficially of course,
just to keep him in the loop. We can't use any government
funds or resources. If we do then we'll leave ourselves open
to interference from the Provisional Government. I'll foot
the bill for any equipment you need. I'll hop on a shuttle
and be there by late afternoon.//

"You don't need to expose yourself to danger, Minister,"
Garak objected.

//You said this is only targeting Cardassians.//

"There is evidence that Bajorans can be infected. As of now,
it appears to only cause a mild respiratory infection, but
we don't know as of yet if the virus can mutate into a more
dangerous form that could cause a more serious condition in
Bajorans as well."

//If this virus is killing Bajorans, purebred or hybrid, I
need to be there,// Krath said. //I appreciate the concern
but if the Occupation didn't kill me then neither will
this.//

"I look forward to seeing you again, Minister."

//And you as well.//

"He seems like a good man," Julian said from the other side
of the room.

"He is," Garak said without turning around. "Am I infected,
doctor?"

Julian looked up from the microscope, "You have antibodies,
but no virus, just like most of the Bajorans."

"How can that be?" he asked. "I'm a full-blooded
Cardassian."

Julian shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe the original virus
mutated in Ziyal's system and now only affects hybrids for
some reason. We're still figuring it out. Most of this is
just speculation on our part."

"How many children are infected?"

"All of them," Julian said. "All that I've tested anyway.
Girani and Perreira are getting the samples while Okuna
catches some rack time, but every child I've tested so far
is positive."

"All of them?" Garak repeated quietly.

"All of them. And Lewin was one of the first ones I tested.
He's definitely infected."

"How long does he have?" Garak asked, his expression
unreadable.

"I have no way of knowing," Julian replied. "Chances are the
pregnancy advanced Ziyal's infection rate, but if Ziyal is
stage four then I'd say Danna is stage two and Lewin is at
stage one. It may be his age; children get sick easier than
adults but they also have stronger immune systems and get
over infections easier."

"And five is death?"

"Five is terminal, yes," Julian answered.

"Three months between stage one and stage four," Garak said
to himself softly.

"We don't know anything yet, Garak. Remember, this is all
speculation and part of Ziyal's problem may be strain from
the pregnancy."

Garak shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose as
though fending off a headache.

Julian walked over to him and placed his hand on the
Cardassian's shoulder. "I will do everything I can, Garak.
You have my word."

"I know," Garak said roughly.

Julian got down on his knees and looked up into Garak's
face. "You have to keep positive, Garak. If Lewin senses
your distress then -"

"I know," Garak said cutting him off. He looked into his
eyes and Julian could see the pain revealed there. "I should
be used to this by now. This isn't the first time I've faced
the loss of someone I care for, nor is it the first time
I've lost-" He stopped.

"Did you ever have a child, Garak?" Julian asked. "Before
Lewin and Kela, I mean?"

"No," Garak said, then in a softer voice answered, "Not
really, no."

"Who was Anwen?"

Garak's head snapped up and his eyes turned an icy blue.
"Where did you hear that name?" he demanded sharply.

"You were muttering it in your sleep the other night."
Julian said, taken aback. "I don't mean to pry-"

"Then don't!" Garak said, rising up from his chair and
turning his back to him. "Just do your job and save the
children, doctor."

"Damn it, Garak! Why won't you let me in?" Julian demanded.
"You know I will do everything I can to save Lewin and
everyone else. Just talk to me! How can you have revealed so
much of yourself to-"

"The Founder?" Garak cut him off, turning around to face him
again. "We've already had this argument."

"Not just the Founder," Julian said. "The children, the
monks, Dan Okuna, this Minister Krath - all of them seem to
know you better than I do! Why? Why all of them and not me?
I was your friend for five years, Garak!"

"What we were, doctor, was verbal sparring partners, nothing
more."

"Bullshit!" Julian stepped up to Garak and poked his finger
into his chest. "When I was in the prison camp do you want
to know what I thought about day in and day out?"

"We shouldn't be rehashing all this -" Garak began.

"I thought about YOU!" Julian said, talking over Garak's
objections. "All Tain would say was that you would come for
us - *us* - not just him. He saw what I couldn't see, Garak.
He saw that you were in love with me and - and I-" He
reached out and touched Garak's face, leaning forward
slightly. "Garak, I-"

Garak moved away from Julian's caress and turned his back to
him.

"Garak-"

"Stay away from me," Garak said and left the room.

---

Garak, I love you.

Garak, I think I love you.

Garak, there is a distinct possibility that I could have
been in love with you but then I got shit-scared and fucked
it all up.

Garak, I am deeply in something approaching lust with you.

Garak, I'm highly confused and sexually frustrated, wanna
shag?

"You're a fucking twat, Bashir," he muttered to himself as
he checked the next slide. "It's not like you have anything
more important to do, like, I don't know, save the lives of
twenty-three people and an unborn child?"

Moron.

Or what is it Miles would call him? 'Eejut'.

He sighed and moved on to the next slide, pushing Garak out
of his mind. All the half-Cardassian children and adults
were infected and so far all the Bajorans showed signs of
having been exposed. Girani had the infection as well but
Perreira and Okuna were still clear, making him believe that
whatever common ancestry allowed the Bajorans and
Cardassians to produce children together also made them
vulnerable to the infection.

That's where he would start, he decided. What is it that
Bajorans and Cardassians had in common that they didn't
share with humans? Ziyal's pregnancy seemed to factor into
her illness - could it be within the reproductive system?
The reproductive system, the endocrine system; they were
closely connected.

He'd suspected once, a long time ago, that the Cardassians
and Bajorans shared more than just the Occupation in common.
Usually when two people of different species produced
children there was some level of medical intervention
involved in the process. In the species close enough in
genetic makeup to procreate naturally, there was usually
some kind of flaw present in their offspring, such as
infertility. That wasn't the case with the
Bajoran-Cardassian hybrids. They were fertile and their
gestational period was only slightly longer than that of
pure-blooded Bajorans. He'd have to get Okuna in on it to
double-check, but he was fairly certain the genetics would
prove his theory correct.

So what was it the virus attacked? Bajorans were a healthy
people; nature had designed them with hearty immune systems
to combat most common illnesses. Their first line of defense
came in utero. The average Bajoran pregnancy was 18-22 weeks
long. Human fetal lungs did not mature until 24-26 weeks'
gestation; if Human infants were delivered any earlier, they
had to be placed in a pseudo-sac or transferred into a
surrogate, as in Kirayoshi O'Brien's case. Bajorans also had
a strong tradition of breastfeeding their children until
they were four or five, which probably also contributed to
their strong immune systems. Then there were their complex
sinus filters, by far their best defense against airborne
viruses.

But Cardassians...it aggravated him that they were so
closed-mouthed about medical matters. Cardassians were
physically strong, stronger than Bajorans or humans, but in
terms of their immune systems they were far more vulnerable
to disease. This was mostly due to their reluctance to seek
medical attention in a timely manner, but another factor was
their society's odd aversion to medical research. A human
with access to proper medical care could have a life
expectancy of well over 150 years. The Occupation had
naturally had an unfortunate effect on the health and life
expectancy of the Bajorans but, once their world fully
recovered, and with access to food replicators and modern
medicines, there was no reason not to believe Bajorans could
live to be over 150 as well. The average Cardassian male was
considered long-lived at eighty - far less than what they
could live to be. Garak, at fifty or so, was in far better
health than the majority of his peers. Part of that must
certainly have come from his living on the station, but that
wasn't the whole story.

Garak's diet was different than most of his fellow
Cardassians, something Julian noted during their many, many
lunches together. He only occasionally visited restaurants
that served 'real' food when he lived on the station despite
his professed love for rich and exotic dishes. Replicated
food was his mainstay, and being replicated it was always
well-balanced and nutritionally enhanced. Julian preferred
replicated food as well. Everyone was always moaning and
saying how much better 'natural' food tasted, but how else
could you eat a huge banana split with double everything and
get the same nutritional value as a serving of steamed
vegetables? Especially since the newer replicators could be
programmed to adjust the calorie and fat content while
keeping the same flavor profiles.

Even here at the monastery, Garak watched his diet. From
what Okuna said, Garak mainly ate vegetables and whole-grain
breads with a small amount of meat, and he used almost no
sugar. He also didn't drink except on rare occasions,
something unheard of in a Cardassian. They were creatures of
indulgence. Food, drink, sex - natural hedonists.

Was it Garak's unusual self-discipline that boosted his
immune system enough to fight off the virus? Ziyal had been
malnourished and traumatized during her years in the slave
encampment; the proper nutrition she'd received since
arriving on DS9 wouldn't erase the damage done over that
many years of neglect.

Julian groaned to himself as he leaned back in his chair.
The simple fact was that all of it, every damned bit of it,
was merely supposition. He looked back at the image before
him and concentrated on it, willing his mind to make sense
of what he was seeing. The answer was there; right there
before his eyes...

...tap tap tap...

...tap tap tap...

...tap tap tap...

Julian frowned down at his keyboard, fiddled with the
terminal's sound controls; where was that annoying sound
coming from?

"Ahem."

Julian swiveled in his seat to find Girani, Perreira and a
bedraggled-looking Okuna all staring at him, Girani's left
foot beating an annoyed tattoo on the floor. "What?"

Girani raised an eyebrow. "Dinner."

"Already?" Julian asked as he looked at the chrono.

"Yes, and we're not waiting for you or bringing you a tray,"
Girani said. "Move it or lose it, Bashir."

Julian scowled. "I have work to do."

"Tough," she said in a no-nonsense tone.

"I am still the senior officer here, Girani," Julian said,
turning his chair toward them.

Perreira grinned. "Um, technically, doc, we're all
unemployed so no, you're not."

"Shut up, Perreira. You're still just the nurse," Girani
said without even bothering to look at him.

Perreira looked at her. "That's just cold."

"Can we go eat?" Okuna asked as he leaned against the
doorjamb. "I want to go back to bed before my shift starts."

"Shift?" Julian asked.

Girani nodded, "While you were staring at our little red
fiend there, the rest of us worked out a shift schedule."

Julian looked at her. "Without consulting me?"

"Does she ever consult anyone about anything?" Okuna asked,
rolling his eyes.

"Relax," Girani said. "It's the same one as on the station
with a few minor modifications."

"Hey, can we go eat?" Perreira asked, hitching his thumb
toward the dining hall. "Those kids are rushing over there
and I got a feeling they're going to wait on us like one dog
waits on another. They don't have replicators here, y'know."

"Let's go," Girani ordered. She motioned for Julian to
follow. "We'll brief you on what we worked out during
dinner."

Julian scowled and switched off his monitor then went to
join his team.

As he trailed after them he muttered, "'Think of it as a
vacation' they said. Right."

---
CHAPTER SIX: Rabble Rousers
---

"What I'm saying is that there are four of us, six if you
count the vets," Girani pointed out. "They can look after
the kids while we take shifts with the more advanced cases."

"The dining hall is kept unlocked so you won't have to break
up your sleep schedules to get your meals." Reven said as he
passed the bread.

Marjay placed a pitcher of tea on the table and nodded. "We
put Ziyal and Jake in one of the double cabins. I'll move
into the second room so I can monitor her through the night
and be close in case they need me."

Perreira reached for a piece of bread and smiled in thanks
as Marjay filled his glass. "So who's working nights?"

"Do we even need a graveyard shift?" Okuna asked, still
looking bedraggled. "If Sister Marjay is going to be
sleeping in their cabin..."

"Julian can't be on the microscope 26 hours a day," Girani
said. "One of us always needs to be on research."

"You're an OB/Gyn," Julian pointed out, digging into his
plate. "Okuna and I would do best on research."

"I knew I was going to get stuck on nights again," Okuna
whined.

"No one needs to work nights," Garak said as he tucked a
napkin into Kela's collar. "Now eat."

"But it's green," the little girl complained.

"Green is good, menina pequena." Perreira stabbed a bunch of
salad greens and ate them, chewing with robust appreciation.
"MMM! Minha măe used to tell me when I was a little boy, 'Se
vocę comer todos seus vegetais vocę crescerá o cabelo em sua
caixa!'"

Everyone at the table stopped to look at Perreira.

"Uh, dude...hate to break it to you, but you're the only one
here that speaks Portuguese," Okuna said. "What the heck is
that supposed to mean anyway?"

"You eat all your vegetables and you will grow hair on your
chest," Perreira said, gesturing to his salad.

"Ew!" Kela pushed her salad away from her with a grimace.

"You're never going to get her to eat that now," Lewin said,
shaking his head.

"What?" Perreira said to Okuna who was rolling his eyes. "I
have to listen to all your weird Canadian stuff all the
time; 'That guy is a real keener', 'this is skookum soup',
'my ginch is riding up my bum'!" he huffed. "At least I talk
sense when I speak."

"That's a matter of opinion," Girani muttered.

"Getting back to the subject at hand," Julian said, drawing
everyone's attention, "as long as Ziyal is the only critical
patient we have I don't think we need a night shift. We can
all work from after breakfast to sometime after dinner,
we'll take turns relieving Sister Marjay, and we'll all be
on call at night. It's not like the orphanage is that big."

"That might work for now," Garak said, wiping his mouth on
his napkin, "but it may not be a long-term solution."

"Garak has a point," Girani said as she met Julian's eyes.
"If people start getting worse than they are right now,
there's no way we can handle all of them by ourselves."

"Minister Krath is coming this evening to assess the
situation for himself so that he can provide us with
equipment and other needed resources." Garak looked around
the table. "It may help if you all made lists of whatever
you need and if you, Dr. Girani, began to call around to
whatever medical contacts you have on Bajor and see if
anyone would be willing to volunteer their services."

"All of my contacts are within the Health Ministry," Girani
said after a moment's thought. "If we're trying to avoid
involving any government agencies in this then that might
not be a good idea."

"We have sister monasteries with medical missions," Reven
said. "Hendrikspool is our mental rest facility, but they do
have a medical staff as well. Danna talked to Owin Grea
earlier and he said that Vedek Merel would be contacting
other medical mercy missions for help. She's also calling on
her contacts in family and child services and having all
hybrid children within the public orphanage system tested.
If any are infected they'll be sent to us."

"I'm hoping that won't happen," Julian said. "We're working
under the assumption that Ziyal is our patient zero. She's
only had contact with the people here."

Reven shook his head. "We are self-reliant in terms of food
and other things we make and grow ourselves, but we do
receive visitors, doctor. Any one of us could have passed
the infection on to a visiting cleric, or a member of the
Family Court system here to drop off a child. Our monks
often go into town to sell our wines at this time of year.
Who knows how far the infection has spread?"

"This could be a world-wide epidemic before we know it,"
Girani murmured.

"Suddenly, I've lost my appetite," Okuna said, staring at
his plate.

"This is ridiculous," Julian growled. "How much worse is
this week going to get? Next thing you know we'll be dealing
with a bloody pandemic."

"Don't borrow trouble, doctor," Reven warned him.

"He's right," Garak said. "Only deal with the facts as you
know them. If you start thinking ahead of the situation it
will overwhelm you. One step at a time."

"I thought you told me to always think three steps ahead,"
Okuna said with a grin.

Julian glanced at Okuna then back at Garak. "He's often said
the same thing to me as well."

Garak addressed Okuna. "Only in matters that call for such a
strategy," Garak said to Okuna. "We must deal with
certainties, not vague possibilities, and at this point we
simply don't have enough information to reliably predict
what will occur."

"In other words, assume others are going to get sick but
until they do, deal with the ones we know who are," Julian
added. "I should be there when you meet with Minister Krath
in case he has any medical questions. I don't know a lot
about him except that he used to be the conservative
candidate who ran against Shakaar in the last election and
now he's his Deputy Minister. They do seem to make a rather
odd couple considering their different political bent."

Garak nodded. "In some ways, yes. However Krath has always
been more on the moderate end of the conservative party."

"To tell you the truth, I almost voted for him before he
dropped out of the election," Girani said. "He had some good
points about how Bajoran needs to seek fiscal independence.
As it is, we need outside contacts like the Ferengi to
distribute goods manufactured on Bajor. His campaign wasn't
really about being anti-Federation as much as it was about
being pro-Bajor."

"He's a good man, a very grounded politician, and he built
his business from the ground up after the Occupation," Reven
added.

"How did he manage that?" Perreira asked. "I mean, after the
Cardassians left how did he manage to begin a manufacturing
company?

"I'm bored!" Kela said, looking up at Garak. "All this stuff
is boring."

"Lewin, take Kela to get some dessert and you can both go
sit with your friends," Garak said, helping Kela out of her
chair.

"Yes, sir-hey!" he said, stopping Kela with one hand. "Your
plate!"

"Oh-kay." Kela said, scowling at him as she picked it up.

"Thank you," Garak said, before turning back to Perreira.
"Krath worked in the mines on Terok Nor during the
Occupation from the time he was a young boy. He had an
affinity with fixing things so he was trained in engineering
and eventually became head of maintenance there."

"A collaborator?" Okuna asked.

"Krath?" Girani snorted. "No, he did his part. He may have
fixed the replicators, but he also figured out how to
program them. He was able to replicate parts and smuggle
them out piece-by-piece so he could create food replicators
for the slaves. He prevented a lot of people from starving
to death. After the Occupation, he took his skills and built
his own replicators. That's still the mainstay of Krath
Industries: food replicators, recyclers - things like that."

Garak turned to Reven. "I'll need permission to have Krath
install at least two food replicators. I know it's not-"

Reven stopped him, "As long as the replicators are used for
the patients who need them," he said, "I think we can make
an exception. I'll ask Danna to be on the safe side. It's
been rather difficult for our monks to come up with a menu
which works within the parameters the doctors gave us in
regards to Ziyal's low protein diet. If this helps then we
will do what we must." Reven looked up; Julian followed his
gaze to see Danna walk through the doors of the Dining hall.
"He must have finished talking with Vedek Merel. She called
him back just before dinner. Will you excuse me?" he said
before rising up from the table to join him.

"So," Okuna said as he put down his napkin, "we have a plan,
or the start of one anyway."

Girani turned to Julian. "We still need to get in contact
with the Venture when she docks. We can't just ignore
MacKelroy. Whether there is a conspiracy behind this or not,
that man is completely out of control."

Julian smiled grimly. "Oh, I get the feeling that both Dax
and Captain Figueiredo will figure that out for themselves
soon enough."

---

Dax shook out her ponytail with a sigh of relief. "I say
that after a week like that, the first thing we need to do
is hit Quark's and have some fun!"

"Just two wild women with a pocket full of credits, willing
to get all liquored up!" Her companion said coming up behind
her.

"Hey!" the man walking beside her cried out, his brown eyes
sparkling in mock annoyance. "Are you forgetting about me,
wild woman?"

"You, Alvaro, my husband, my love, I could never forget,"
Captain Gabriela Figueiredo said to him teasingly, wrapping
her arm around his waist and giving him a quick kiss.

"Damn right," Alvaro grinned.

"You are such a pain." Fig shook her head in amusement
stretching her arms over her head. "I still don't see how
you can stand being on the Defiant, Jadzia. I swear that
thing is as cramped as hell!"

"It's not so bad when you get used to it," she replied.
"I'll admit though that the Venture is a really sweet ship.
You'll have to invite me to captain her again sometime."

Fig shot her a look. "Watch it: the Venture is my baby. I
only switched with you during that last run to make the
maneuvers more interesting for the crew."

Dax grinned. "The crew was fairly motivated by the change.
It's not every day you get to go gunning for your own
captain."

"But I had them chasing their tails!" Fig said with a
triumphant wiggle to her walk. "They didn't even come close
to finding me."

"Well, to be fair, you were on a cloaked ship," Dax pointed
out.

"It was pure skill, not the cloak - don't be a hater."

"That's my girl!" Alvaro said, patting his wife on the butt.
"You gave them hell, meu amor!"

"Damn straight," Fig said jogging a step or two ahead, then
turned to her companions with a grin. "So, drinks on my crew
tonight--you ready?"

"I've been ready for ages!" Dax said. She frowned suddenly,
looking over Fig's shoulder. "What's that?"

Fig turned around and looked. There was a huge crowd
assembled in front of Quarks making angry noises.

"You can't do this!" Quark was insisting as he confronted a
tall, broad man wearing a Starfleet uniform. One of the
security officers in front of the man stopped Quark with an
outstretched hand.

"Keep back, sir."

"I have a lease!" Quark shouted. "This is illegal! Odo!
Where the hell is Odo when you actually need him?!?"

As Dax and the Figueiredos approached they were able to see
the pips that proclaimed the stranger to be a commander.

"This bar is closed!" the commander said to the crowd in a
loud voice. "From here on out there will be no gambling on
Deep Space Nine, nor will any other illegal activities be
tolerated!"

"Gambling isn't illegal on Bajor!" Leeta protested, standing
behind Quark.

The Starfleet officer sneered at her. "This station is not
Bajor," he said dismissively.

The crowd began to boo but the commander continued with his
proclamation. "No gambling! No prostitution!" He directed a
pointed look at Leeta when he said that and she gasped in
outrage. "No alcoholic beverages! Any restaurant or other
business serving anything other than synthehol will be in
violation of regulations and shut down! No obscene or
morally questionable holoprograms! Anything that does not
meet with the standards I have set in place will be
confiscated and the owners and purveyors of such programs
will be fined and/or arrested! This is a Starfleet
installation, not a floating Sodom and Gomorrah! If you
don't like it you're free to leave and your lease agreements
will be dissolved with your rent prorated!"

Kira pushed her way to the front of the crowd. "You've gone
too far, MacKelroy! The businesses were issued Bajoran
licenses to operate and what they sell and how they sell it
falls under *my* purview, not yours!"

The man sneered at her condescendingly. "Since you are such
an expert in business law, Major, you should know that as
the managing occupants of this facility Starfleet is
ultimately responsible for what goes on here. Bajor may
technically be their landlord but if I feel that having
these businesses operate here would leave the Federation and
Starfleet open to liability issues I have the right and the
responsibility to shut every damn one of them down." He
raised his voice and addressed the crowd. "And if you do not
disband and return to your shops I will declare this an
illegal protest and have all of you arrested!"

The crowd roared in outrage as one.

"Bajor for Bajor!" someone shouted. "No more Federation
Occupation!"

The crowd took up the chant.

"BAJOR FOR BAJOR! END THE FEDERATION OCCUPATION! BAJOR FOR
BAJOR! END THE FEDERATION OCCUPATION!"

"Quark!" Jadzia called out, making her way through the
crowd, Fig and Alvaro following.

"...and what the hell is a 'Sodom and Gomorrah' anyway?"
Quark was saying to Morn and Leeta angrily.

"I think it's some kind of disease," Leeta said uncertainly.

Quark glared at the departing MacKelroy and at the security
detachment that was sealing the doors. "I run a clean bar!"
he cried.

Morn gave him a dubious look.

"Well--pretty clean," Quark amended, his voice tense with
frustration.

"Quark!" Jadzia shouted getting close to him.

"Dax! It's about time you got back! You have to do something
about this MacKelroy--he shut down the bar! I'm losing money
here!" Quark said desperately.

"What is all this?" Fig asked stepping up.

"MacKelroy, that's what," Leeta said with a grimace. "First
Julian gets suspended then this guy comes in and fires
everyone in the Infirmary, and now this! And--" she added,
hitching her thumb in the direction MacKelroy and his
security detail went off in, "I'm not sure but I think he
just called me a prostitute!"

"He fired everyone in the Infirmary?" Dax gaped at her.
"Why?"

"Morn told us all about it. Ziyal was sick and MacKelroy
wouldn't let Julian come back on board to treat her so the
other doctors had Morn bring her down to Bajor. When
MacKelroy found out he fired them, right Morn?"

Morn nodded.

The crowd began to grow and surge, pushing and shoving
against one another, their anger building. Leeta led the
small group through the maze of bodies until they were able
to hear one another clearly again.

"This is ridiculous!" Leeta said as the crowd noise rose
again. "That guy has them to the point where they're going
to pull this place apart!"

Morn ducked as an object zoomed by his head.

"What the--" Fig ducked as another projectile crashed on the
wall behind them.

"Hey! Quark shouted. "Watch the sign!"

Some of the crowd who had apparently taken their drinks out
with them continued to throw their empty glasses toward the
security team. A fight broke out during the melee and the
air was filled with the sound of shouting and fists hitting
flesh.

"Jesus! What the hell was that guy thinking?" Alvaro said in
disbelief. "He starts a freaking riot then just casually
walks away?!?"

Dax turned to Fig. "Is he trying to undo everything we've
accomplished in the last five years? The Bajorans aren't
going to stand for this. Benjamin--all of us--worked very
hard to assure them this station was and always would be
Bajoran. Saying this is a Starfleet installation is a major
breech of diplomacy!"

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this right now," Fig's
face was grim. "Alvaro--"

"I know," He said cutting her off. "I'll go inform your
first officer about what's happening. Good luck." He said
before heading back through the crowd towards the airlocks.

Kira approached them as Bajoran security attempted to pacify
the crowd. "Captain! MacKelroy has been wreaking havoc on
this station! Since he's arrived all hell has broken loose!
Are you going to do something about him or is he right and
the Federation really is planning on seizing full control
over Deep Space Nine?" She demanded.

"Major, I am not aware of any such plans. It is not now nor
has it ever been the Federation's policy to confiscate the
property of foreign powers at will." She looked at Dax,
"Have Starfleet security give Kira and her team any
assistance they need with crowd control, and afterwards
round up the senior staff and have them meet me in the
wardroom." Figueiredo turned back to Kira. "I want to assure
you that this station is still a Bajoran asset--Starfleet
has no intention of walling you or your people out."

"That's not what MacKelroy has been saying," Kira spat out
angrily.

"One commander does not speak for all of Starfleet, Major. I
assure you that whatever agenda MacKelroy has been running
with ends right now."

---

Figueiredo walked into Benjamin Sisko's office and strode
over to the desk where MacKelroy was sitting.

He looked up, sipped his coffee, and smiled. "I'm sorry,
captain, I didn't hear you knock."

"For such an expert on Starfleet regulations, MacKelroy, why
is it you're still sitting on your ass and not saluting your
superior officer?" Fig asked.

MacKelroy put down his cup and arose from the chair snapping
her a quick salute. "Ma'am. Now, is there something you
needed?"

"An explanation."

"Excuse me?"

"Get the shit out of your ears, MacKelroy, and cut the
attitude," she said in a tone that would do her old drill
sergeant proud. "You don't have the pips on your collar or
enough ass in your pants to mess with me! Starfleet has
cultivated a relationship with these people for several
years now--don't think that I'm going to sit idly by and
watch you trash that just because someone made you the hall
monitor for a couple of weeks. Consider yourself relieved of
duty."

"I'm sorry Captain, but you can't do that." MacKelroy said
in a casual tone. "Admiral Ross gave me my orders and I
intend to follow them through."

Figueiredo smiled, a slow shark-like grin. "You challenging
me, MacKelroy? Oh please, keep going. I'm curious to see how
deep the hole you're digging yourself into is going to get."

"I have my orders, Captain. You may outrank me, but you
don't outrank Admiral Ross. You pull me off duty and you'll
have to deal with him."

"That so?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Am I shaking in my boots yet, Commander?" She asked in an
icy tone.

"I wouldn't presume to know, ma'am," MacKelroy said easily.

"Then let me clarify it for you: I don't give a good goddamn
who's at the end of your leash, MacKelroy! Get out from
behind Ben Sisko's desk, grab your gear, and get the hell
out of here." Her tone was deadly.

"You're making a mistake...captain," MacKelroy said with a
tight smile, his eyes glinting with anger as he drew himself
up to his full height and stared down his nose at her.

"You want to go toe to toe, MacKelroy?" Figueiredo asked
calmly, holding her ground. "I've taken on bigger and badder
than you. Now, you can leave here in one of two ways; on
foot or in a body bag. You decide."

MacKelroy chuckled and relaxed then picked up his coffee cup
and headed to the door. He turned as the doors opened and
lifted his cup. "Have a nice day, Captain. I'd salute, but
my hands are full."

Figueiredo didn't respond, she just stood and watched him
leave. When the doors closed she went behind Sisko's desk
and sat in his chair. Looking at the desk she noticed
something was off. She looked around then picked up the
small wastepaper basket and looked inside.

"Asshole," she said pulling the baseball out of the trash
and putting it back in its holder. She touched the comm
monitor and waited for it to connect.

//Gilhouley.//

"I catch you at a bad time, boss?"

Admiral Fitz Gilhouley pulled the napkin out of his collar
and shrugged. //Just catching some dinner at my desk. What's
up, Fig? How are things in Ben's neck of the woods?//

"Not good."

Gilhouley frowned. //Hadar activity? You need to call in the
cavalry?//

"It's not the Dominion--this time anyway. Ross put some
commander with more bulk than brains in charge during
Sisko's absence and now he's got the locals holding protests
in the Promenade because he's been busting heads and
insisting this is no longer a Bajoran station."

//What?// Gilhouley asked with a scowl. //What's this
Commander's major malfunction?//

"He's got his head up his ass is all I know. He even had the
balls to threaten me with a smile on his face."

//He still breathing?//

"For now."

Gilhouley paused. //What's this stain's name?//

"MacKelroy."

//MacKelroy, MacKelroy...// Gilhouley stopped. //Mitch
MacKelroy?//

She shrugged, "We didn't get that personal."

//Big mother, looks like a linebacker?//

"That's him."

//Son of a bitch.// Gilhouley said, pushing his plate away.
//He sent in his bull.//

"His what?"

//His bull.// Gilhouley scowled. //The guy he sends in to
bust up the china shop. MacKelroy is his favorite asshole.
He goes in and alienates the other officers, busts balls,
issues transfers, and does it all by staying just inside the
regulations so they can't do a damn thing about it. His job
is to basically clean house so his superiors can bring in a
new team more in line with their way of thinking.//

"Ross wants to get rid of Sisko and his team?" Fig asked.
"After everything they've done out here?"

//That's the point of sending in a bull. You have a crew
that is untouchable but you want them out, you get them to
leave under their own steam. No muss, no fuss.// Gilhouley
sighed, //I have to say though, this has been coming for a
while. No one at Headquarters was thrilled with this
'Emissary' bullshit, but Ben got results so he was left
alone. Ross must have seen the Dominion thing as his
opportunity to remedy that.//

"Well, his boy fucked up big time!" Fig chuckled darkly.
"This station is on the verge of being torn apart, he's got
the Bajoran militia frothing at the mouth, and he's probably
got the Provisional Government thinking that the Federation
is fixing to start another Occupation! As for our own
people, low morale is an understatement--he fired the entire
medical staff just to do it for fuck's sake!"

//What?//

"One of Quark's waitresses, Leeta I think her name was, told
us when we got back from maneuvers. The whole team, Fitz!"

//That doesn't make sense,// Gilhouley said with a frown.

"None of this makes sense. And get this: he said it was
under direct orders from Ross." She shook her head. "Since
when do Starfleet Admirals issue orders to have its officers
shit where they eat? To say this has been a breech of
diplomacy is an understatement!"

//You sure it's gone that far?//

"He started a goddamn riot in front of Quarks then casually
walked away to get himself a cup of coffee. The ranking
Bajoran Militia officer was so pissed she was practically
spitting nails and demanded to know from me what Starfleet's
intentions were in regard to MacKelroy's claim that Bajor no
longer had a claim on DS9! Am I sure this is a fuck up?
Admiral, 'fuck up' is an understatement."

Gilhouley's face darkened with anger. //Did you relieve him
or arrest him?//

"I relieved him, and when I did he took great delight in
telling me that it would be a 'bad idea on my part' because
his big daddy Ross had plans and I shouldn't interfere."

//I'm going to comm Ross and find out what the fuck is going
on. You sit tight and monitor the situation. If we have to
we'll send a team of diplomats down to smooth things out.//

"You could send in the entire Diplomatic Corps, but it may
already be too late. You didn't see that crowd--it was ugly.
They're shouting, 'Bajor for Bajor' and 'End the Federation
Occupation'." She shook her head. "Fitz, Bajorans don't use
words like 'Occupation' casually."

//Fuck. It's days like this that make me want to go back to
commanding the shipyards,// He sighed. //You are in charge
of Deep Space Nine until further notice. Get the senior
staff together and sort out what's been going on and have
MacKelroy confined to quarters--under our security team's
watch. The Bajorans might just have him 'accidentally' slip
in the shower if things are really that bad. We don't need
him fragged on top of everything else.//

"I'm on it."

//I'm calling Headquarters and getting to the bottom of
this. If MacKelroy is telling the truth then Ross
overstepped his authority big time. He'll be lucky to get
out of this with just a forced retirement.//

"Why do it then?" She asked. "I don't get it; why go this
far just to squeeze out Ben and his team?"

//It may not have been Ross. His boy may have had a major
brain fart and took it too far--and I'm willing to bet
that's what his story is going to be. Just hang tight and
I'll get back to you in a couple of hours.//

"Will do," she said, "Oh, and Admiral?"

//Yes?// He asked.

"Just out of curiosity, who's your bull?"

//Who do you think?// Gilhouley smiled just before the
screen went dark.

Fig slapped her comm badge. "Figueiredo to Starfleet
Security; have Commander MacKelroy detained and confined to
quarters under my orders."

//Yes, sir.//

She got up from her chair and headed for the wardroom. Kira,
Dax, and O'Brien were already there. Odo was notably absent
so she assumed he was still on crowd control. She had gotten
no more than two steps before Kira launched a verbal attack.

"First Minister Shakaar has been informed of what happened
here, Captain. Bajor has no intention of rolling over and
letting Starfleet just take over!"

"Sit down, Major." Figueiredo ordered. "No one is seizing
anything. MacKelroy is in Starfleet custody and will face
disciplinary action. His actions were not condoned by
Starfleet, I assure you."

"He sure as hell acted like they were!" She spat.

"Please," Fig said evenly. "If you will just sit down we can
all try to sort through this mess. I've only been here all
of fifteen minutes and I still don't know exactly what's
going on."

"I'll tell you what's going on, Captain--your commander has
managed to turn this station upside down in less than three
days!" Kira said angrily.

"First off, he's not 'my' commander and, like I said, he
acted under no one's authority."

"Excuse me, Captain, but he said Admiral Ross sent him in,"
O'Brien interjected.

"Admiral Gilhouley is sorting that out even as we speak."
Figueiredo said evenly. "I have ordered that Commander
MacKelroy be confined to quarters and am assuming command
until Captain Sisko returns."

"I'm sorry, captain." Kira shook her head, "I think that
having another outsider from Starfleet come in to assume
command is a bad idea. Right now, the Bajorans on this
station are in an uproar. I need to be in command and you
and your ship need to take a step back and let us handle
this ourselves."

Fig eyed Kira carefully before speaking. This was a tense
situation that called for the highest level of tact and
diplomacy. "You may be right, Major. I will, of course,
defer to you in regards to the running of the station and
its staff, but I think I should stay on board until this is
resolved."

"With all due respect, Captain, right now the only Starfleet
captain who can fix this is Benjamin Sisko and even that is
iffy. MacKelroy broke the trust of the Provisional
Government and the Militia when he started in on how
Starfleet was done waiting on us 'yokels' to 'piss or get
off the pot'. I can't speak for First Minister Shakaar, but
I would be very uncomfortable with the idea of yet another
officer coming in to assume Sisko's chair, however temporary
that would be."

"What do you want me to do, Major?" Fig asked.

"Leave part of your medical team to man the Infirmary until
we can get our people up from Bajor, then patrol the sector.
We will keep you informed of any developments here, but you
need to leave and take MacKelroy with you."

"Kira," Dax began, "Captain Figueiredo--"

"I am not saying this to insult the captain nor am I
suggesting that Starfleet personnel completely abandon the
station," Kira said cutting her off. "I'm saying I think
that we need to allow the discordance caused by the
commander to dissipate before we start introducing anyone
else to the crew or the inhabitants. I don't feel that is
unreasonable and if you do," she looked at the captain, "I
apologize for that but I'm afraid I must insist."

Figueiredo thought about that. Gilhouley might not be happy
with her for leaving the command seat vacant, but the only
other choice would be to challenge the major and risk
escalating an already tense situation. "Very well. If you
think that's best, I will gladly bow to your judgment,
Major."

Kira nodded appearing somewhat mollified. "As soon as your
medical team disembarks I'll meet with the Merchant's
Association and the civilian leadership and explain the
situation."

"What about Dr. Bashir?" Miles asked.

"Dr. Bashir?" Fig asked. "Someone said he was suspended?"

O'Brien nodded. "Right before Captain Sisko left, Admiral
Ross ordered that Dr. Bashir be suspended for six months
based on the Founder infiltration and then his genetic
enhancements being revealed."

"I thought they resolved that weeks ago?" Dax asked,
confused.

Figueiredo raised her hand, "Look, I don't know anything
about that and I can't countermand Ross' decision just
because I want to. I'll talk to Admiral Gilhouley and see
what he can do." She turned her gaze to Kira. "Major, on
behalf of Starfleet I apologize for what happened here and I
assure you we will do everything we can to make this right.
I'm sure that Headquarters will be sending a diplomatic team
to smooth things out with your government very soon and I
hope that we can continue to work together until this is
fully resolved." She rose from her chair and held out her
hand.

Kira clasped her hand, "Thank you, Captain."

Fig nodded. "If it would be all right I'd like to have
MacKelroy beamed directly onto my ship so as not to further
incense the crowd."

"I think that would be for the best," Kira agreed.

"I'll comm you as soon as I hear from the Admiral."

---

As soon as Fig got back to the Venture and made sure
MacKelroy was safe and snug and confined to quarters, she
went to her ready room and commed Gilhouley.

//What are you doing back on the Venture?// was the first
thing out of his mouth.

"I had no choice, Admiral. I could either step aside and let
Major Kira run the show or piss fuel on the fire. She wanted
me gone so I went." Fig explained evenly.

//This is turning into a real goddamn shit-fit.// The
Admiral shook his head. //Where's MacKelroy?//

"On the Venture, confined to quarters."

//Good.//

"What did Ross have to say?"

Gilhouley grimaced. //MacKelroy must have commed him the
second the Venture docked because as soon as I got off the
line with you I had Admiral Levine telling me that Ross
filed a grievance against me for pissing in his punchbowl!
Fucking political bullshit--this is why I stay in the field.
Something is going on and I am out of the loop. Ross is
going on the offensive. He says I overstepped my bounds by
removing MacKelroy from his post and that if any of the
commander's actions were 'misconstrued' by the locals, his
offices should have been informed of the situation before I
sent you to step in.//

"You didn't send me, I stepped in it the minute I ran into a
mob of angry Bajorans!"

//I don't know what the hell is going on. Ross has an agenda
but damned if I can figure it out! It's important enough to
him that he's apparently willing to go the distance.//

"What about MacKelroy?"

//He wants him reinstated and you disciplined for
interfering.//

Fig raised her eyebrow, "Oh yeah? And what did you say?"

//When Levine told me that I said that Ross could kiss my
ass. I gave the order to have him removed before the
situation escalated and if he wanted to call me to the
carpet then I'd be more than willing to defend my decision
in front of the whole goddamn senate and the President of
the Federation if need be.// His face darkened in annoyance.

"So now what?"

//Keep an eye on the situation and keep me informed. I have
to meet with the goddamn oversight committee and I've filed
a responding grievance against Ross defending my decision
and requesting an investigation in the matter--more bullshit
to wade through. Make a full report and send it in so I can
show the panel and I'll try to get through to Ben and try to
straighten this thing out on this end.//

"Can you get to him?" She asked, "I mean, isn't the Peace
Summit sequestered?"

//I've got an in with some of Nechayev's people.// Gilhouley
sighed. //It's up to her, but if I stress that the
diplomatic situation here is destabilizing she may cut him
loose, we'll see. I wouldn't count on it though. Ross
couldn't have picked a worse time to have a goddamn midlife
crisis or breakdown or whatever the fuck this is! Your Major
Kira also informed First Minister Shakaar of what was going
on there and apparently after he met with MacKelroy a couple
of days ago he requested a 'clarification of intent' from
HQ.//

"And no one took that as a sign something was up down here?"
She asked incredulously.

//Supposedly the communiqué got lost in the shuffle. Until I
started poking my nose into this shit pile no one even
looked at it. Fucking weird ass voodoo going on over there!
Levine said he didn't have all the details but you were
right; the Provisional Government is not happy.//

"An understatement if Kira's reaction is anything to go by."

//It's not going to be all cut and dried when it gets to the
committee though. Ross may have some leverage.// Gilhouley
sighed. //The Dominion has changed the all the rules as far
as a lot of the higher ups are concerned. Bajor has been
stringing the Federation along for a while on whether or not
they intend to join us. We keep defending it and spending
our assets down there and a lot of the bean counters and war
hawks feel they aren't seeing a significant return. There
has been talk about either developing a shield of some sort
limiting access into the Alpha Quadrant through the wormhole
or destabilizing it altogether.//

"If they do that the Bajorans will raise all holy hell,
Admiral. The wormhole aliens--"

//I know, believe me. And for now it's just talk, but it's
getting popular now that the Cardassians are looking to make
a treaty with the Dominion.//

"That official or just a rumor because I thought the Legate
Prime denounced Dukat over that."

//Things can change, especially when it comes to Cardassian
politics. Intelligence says that there is a growing
dissention over the Legate's decision and Dukat's plan is
beginning to look mighty good to a few of them. Somebody is
sending out feelers to see how sweet the deal would be.// He
rubbed his neck tiredly. //Look, the Federation is between a
rock and a hard place right now. We will do everything we
can, as long as the Dominion stays put, to keep the wormhole
safe for the Bajorans. But, if the Cardassians sign that
treaty it will open up a path for the Dominion and we can't
allow that. The greater good, Figueiredo; no one would
benefit from an all out war with the Dominion--not us or the
Bajorans, and the few skirmishes we've encountered up till
now are nothing compared to what we'll see if they decide to
come at us in full force.//

"So was that the point of sending in MacKelroy? Clean house
so Ross can send in a crew who would be more willing to
destroy the wormhole if it came to it?" Fig asked with a
frown.

//I'm guessing.//

She sighed. "I'll...do what I can here."

//Just keep Major Kira and First Minister Shakaar happy but
stay close. Keep one eye on the wormhole and the other one
on the station.//

"Will do."

---

Julian blinked as he pushed his chair away from the
microscope and rubbed the back of his neck. He'd spent the
last three hours trying to figure out how, or perhaps why,
the virus he was studying was mutating so quickly, but he'd
had little success. The rate of mutation was far too high
for the pathogen to be natural, but he simply couldn't
figure out exactly how it had been engineered.

Time for a break, he told himself: tired eyes don't see
what's in front of them. He rose to his feet and crossed to
the window, looking out at the monks and children. A female
monk, Prylar Naia if Julian recalled correctly, was feeding
a clutch of fowl off near the compound's perimeter, while an
acolyte at a nearby table was showing a group of older
children how to seed the aguaba fruit that went into the
monastery's fine wines and liqueurs. Near the schoolroom,
Garak was scratching the head of a large animal that looked
like a cross between an Irish Wolfhound and an iguana. It
was a Cardassian riding hound, Julian realized, and a young
one at that.

Okuna suddenly tapped him on the shoulder. "Here you go," he
said, handing him a PADD.

He skimmed the first page. "Is this all we need?" he asked.

"We could put a state-of-the-art hospital on the list,"
Okuna said with a shrug, "but I doubt we'd actually get it.
Or would we? How rich is this Krath guy anyway?"

"He's not your personal Satin Cloves, Okuna," Girani scoffed
as she entered the room with Perreira.

Perreira and Okuna both frowned at her. "Who?"

"The fat hairy man you people worship and give presents to,"
Girani said dismissively. "The one that has the jelly in his
stomach."

"*Santa Claus*," Okuna said with a roll of his eyes. "And I
didn't think he was: it was just wishful thinking."

Perreira snorted. "Really wishful thinking," he said under
his breath as he opened the shelf above the sink and pulled
out a bottle of detergent. "If you think this-"

Julian interrupted him. "I'll be in the meeting with
Minister Krath, and I'll make sure we get everything we
absolutely need. Perreira, did you move your gear into our
cabin?"

"Sure did, doc."

"Fine," he said. "Girani, you're taking tonight's shift with
Ziyal so Minister Krath can bunk down in that cabin. I'll
meet you back here with the Minister as soon as he arrives."

Perreira took a look at the PADD, craning his neck to read
it over Julian's shoulder as he carried a load of towels
across the room. "If you're asking for all that, you might
as well ask Santa Claus." He suddenly began to sing. "I'll
have a bluuue Christmas without youuu..."

"Would you please be quiet!" Girani grouched.

"I'll just-" Julian began.

Perreira began to dance around Girani. "...I'll be so bluuue
just thinking about youuu..."

Okuna rolled his eyes.

Julian tried again. "I'm going to-"

But Perreira wasn't finished. "...decoraaations of red on a
greeen-"

"SHUT UP!" Girani bellowed.

Perreira put the clothes basket down and gave the furious
Girani a sardonic grin. "You, Mirat, are the biggest grinch
on Bajor."

Her eyes suddenly turned an icy blue. "What did you call
me?" she demanded. "Did you just compare me to Okuna's
underpants, Perreira?"

"If you'd-"

"That's gonch, not grinch, Girani," Okuna retorted.

As his team ignored him in favor of their petty bickering,
Julian rolled his eyes. "Oh, to hell with it." There wasn't
much else they could do tonight and they needed to blow off
a little steam. It may be their last chance, he thought as
he left the infirmary, their voices trailing behind him.

"That's a beautiful animal," he said to Garak as he reached
the pen. "Where did they find a Cardassian riding hound on
Bajor, and a sighted one at that?"

Garak turned his head slightly, acknowledging his presence
with a polite nod. "He was found on a wildlife preserve in
the mountains half-starved and with a serious infection. He
was moved here for treatment. A Gul stationed on the planet
surface brought him in before the Occupation ended."

"He doesn't look like he's starving now," Julian said with a
smile as he eyed the hound's bulging stomach.

"The children are constantly feeding him their snacks."
Garak replied in a dry tone.

The hound looked up at Julian, then walked over and sniffed
his hand loudly. Julian chuckled and patted the large
reptilian canine on the snout. "Sorry boy, no food." The
hound licked his palm once, then walked away and plopped
down on some straw bedding. "He seems friendly."

"He appears to have a docile nature," Garak said. "Some of
that probably has to do with the fact that Reven had him
neutered when he first arrived to keep down his aggression.
Even before that, though, he seemed fairly tame."

Julian frowned at him. "How long has he been here?"

"Do you have the list, doctor?" Garak asked.

"Uh, yes," he replied, slightly caught off guard by the
sudden gruffness to Garak's tone. He handed him the PADD.
"The neuroscanner and the electron microscope are the only
absolutes. Everything else is negotiable for now."

Garak read over the list quickly. "I doubt there will be a
problem, but if there is I may be able to go through some of
my other contacts to purchase what we need."

Julian raised his eyebrow in surprise. "Some of the
equipment we need is extremely expensive."

"I still have money from the sale of my shop and a bit more
hidden away," Garak said vaguely as he added a few notes of
his own to Okuna's list.

"Not many bills in a monastery, I suppose."

"Not many, no."

"I guess that's one good thing about living here," he said,
looking around. "Not many frills either."

Garak cut his eyes toward him. "Too rustic for your tastes,
doctor?"

"No." Julian hastened to assure him. "I didn't mean to imply
that at all. In fact, I wouldn't mind working someplace like
this myself one day, maybe after I leave the service."

"You as a simple country doctor," Garak said, disbelief
coloring his expression. "The son of - what was it? -
Ambassador Bashir and his wealthy wife?"

Julian snorted. "'Ambassador Bashir' was one of my father's
finest creations. The only thing he was ever an ambassador
to was the Turf." He looked down at the PADD in Garak's
hands. "My father," he finally said, "is a liar, a con
artist, a gambler, and a complete failure as a husband and a
father. I've spent most of my life trying to put him behind
me, but no matter how many light-years separate us his
shadow's still there, somewhere behind me. I can never seem
to get away from it."

"I didn't realize," Garak said, his expression unreadable.

"This 'rustic' place," Julian continued, waving his hand,
"seems like a palace compared to some of the places we lived
in when I was young." He raised his eyes to meet Garak's.
"You know about Adigeon Prime?"

"Yes."

"That's where they made me into Julian Bashir," he said. "At
least on the outside: Julian is the lie I've led, the mask I
show people. Adigeon..." he said with a sigh. "My parents
were never wealthy even when I was younger - Mum married the
chauffeur's son and Grandfather disowned her - but Father
financed my transformation through gambling. He borrowed
money from loan sharks and bet it all, and won." He chuckled
darkly. "The only time he ever did win. At any rate, after
we returned, Dad, being Dad, reneged on the loans. We ended
up being stalked by some pretty violent types, and a few
times we were forced to go to ground. Shabby one-room
tenements, caves...we once spent almost three months living
on wild roots and mushrooms. A girl died right in front of
us because we didn't know how to treat her. Turned out all
she needed were some herbs that were growing just outside of
the mouth of the cave."

"So the Federation's acclaimed social safety net failed
you?" Garak asked. "I find that difficult to believe."

"It's easy to fall between the cracks," Julian replied. "And
Father had warrants out for his arrest, so he wasn't
especially keen on attracting attention. If I'd known about
that herb...well, that's one of the main reasons I decided
to become a doctor. I never wanted to feel that helpless
again." He glanced over at Garak; the Cardassian was staring
at him with an odd look on his face. "What?"

"It's...nothing," Garak said, turning away.

"Ask, Garak," Julian said dryly. "May as well, it's not like
any of this is a secret anymore. After Zimmerman's
revelation, all of this is probably in a file somewhere."

"True, but..."

"Cardassian etiquette?" Julian supplied. He caught Garak's
look as the other man examined him from the corner of his
eye. "We're a little past keeping to polite conversation,
aren't we?"

Garak shrugged. "Very well, as long as you don't expect quid
pro quo, doctor."

"From you? I learned a long time ago that trying to pry
information out of you is futile. After a while asking
became a game, nothing more." Julian chuckled.

Garak paused, as if considering his words carefully. "When I
first met you, you seemed so open," he said. "So naive. You
were the last person I'd suspect of holding secrets, or
being able to hold them. I still don't understand why you
took the risk of joining Starfleet."

"That's another story," Julian said, pushing away the
surprise he felt at Garak's admission. "After the cave
incident, Mother told us she'd finally had enough and she
commed Grandfather. He paid off Father's debts and gave us a
home, but he never let me forget who was holding the purse
strings. That's why I made the decision to join Starfleet;
so I could wake up every morning knowing that I don't owe
anyone a damn thing."

"I see," Garak said as he latched the riding hound's pen. He
suddenly turned back to Julian. "Why are you telling me all
this?"

"Because the other night you said that you didn't know who I
was, and you were right."

"I was," Garak said doubtfully.

Julian nodded. "This," and he gestured towards himself,
"this is me. Jules Bashir. The real man: no lies, no veneer.
And *that* is why I couldn't understand how you could ever
confuse me with the Founder: he was just a lie impersonating
another lie. I forgot that you-"

They both turned their heads as a loud sound interrupted
them. "That will be Krath Milnar's shuttle," Garak said.
"Are you coming, doctor?"

"Of course." Julian said feeling disappointment pool in his
belly. For a minute he thought that maybe they had been
getting close to something. It wasn't yet the friendship
they'd once shared, but their conversation had at least been
civil. "Focus on the job," he muttered to himself.

Thinking about anything personal at this point was probably
too distracting anyway. Besides, he already knew how to be a
doctor; being himself was much harder. Right now he didn't
have time to try.

Julian shook himself out of his reverie and followed Garak
to the shuttle.

Krath Milnar disembarked his craft carrying a large duffel.
He extended his hand in greeting. "Brother Elim."

"Minister Krath," Garak said with a polite nod, accepting
his handshake. He turned slightly toward Julian. "Minister,
this is Dr. Julian Bashir."

"Minister Krath," Julian said, extending a hand as well.

Krath stared at him for a second before clasping his hand.
"Forgive me, doctor. I thought I had prepared myself for our
meeting, but..."

"The Founder?" Julian supplied. "Not to worry, minister. I
get that a lot these days."

"I imagine you do. It's quite uncanny..." He shook his head.
"I'm being extremely rude, I apologize."

"If you didn't have a reaction I'd be worried, Minister,"
Julian said with a polite smile.

"That's true." Krath said. He looked between the two men
hitching his bag a little higher on his shoulder. "I suppose
you should show me where I'm to bunk down tonight first then
we'll go over what you need."

As Julian followed the two men to the guest cabins, he
examined Krath surreptitiously. He'd seen Krath before, of
course, but only in news broadcasts on the HV. Tall and dark
haired, with slightly rugged features that made him look
less like a slick politician and more like a blue-collar
everyman, Krath automatically seemed to set you at ease. His
serious and calm way of speaking exuded confidence without
seeming arrogant.

Julian half listened to his and Garak's conversation as the
Deputy Minister put away his bag. Krath maintained eye
contact with the Cardassian, asked his questions directly
with no dissemblance, and always went right to the point. It
was no wonder the man had come so close to defeating Shakaar
in the election; he exuded a charisma that was nothing like
the seductive charm Shakaar employed. Krath reminded him of
Chief O'Brien in that regard. He was the kind of man who
only spoke when he had something real to say; an exceedingly
rare quality in a politician.

"I cleared my calendar as Brother Elim mentioned that by
coming here I would be placed under quarantine with the rest
of you." Krath said to Julian, bringing him out of his
reverie.

"Yes. About that, Minister; would you mind if I took some
samples from you and ran a few tests before we get started?
I need to establish a baseline from someone of Bajoran
heritage who isn't infected."

"Not at all." Krath said with a nod. "I'm past due for a
physical anyway."

They went to the Infirmary, where Krath was introduced to
the team; Julian then scanned him with the infirmary's
tricorder. He couldn't stop a slight shiver from running up
his spine.

Girani stepped up to him and asked in a low tone, "What is
it?"

Julian looked first at her and then at Krath. "I'm afraid we
won't be able to use these readings as a baseline after all,
sir.".

Krath looked at him in confusion while Okuna and Perreira
took a step forward in surprise. "Why not?" he asked.

Julian's face was grim. "I'm afraid you've already been
infected."

Krath stared at him. "But I just got here."

"I know, sir. May I take a blood sample?"

Krath nodded and rolled up his sleeve as Perreira handed
Julian a slide and aspirator. As soon as he had the sample,
Julian placed it under the microscope and isolated the
virus, then pulled the images of Ziyal's and Danna's samples
as well for comparison.

His gaze moved between the samples, and for just a moment he
refused to accept what he was seeing. "Dr. Girani, Dr.
Okuna," he finally said as he transferred the microscope's
visual output to the main monitor, "could I get your
opinions on this?"

"What do you-" Girani started, then her eyes narrowed as she
took in the three virions. "Prophets," she murmured.

Okuna turned to him. "But-"

Julian cleared his throat and turned back to Krath.
"Minister, have you ever been to the monastery before?"

"No."

"Have you met with anyone who has had contact with this
monastery in the last three months?"

"I have spoken with Vedek Merel recently; I assume she's
been here." His eyes suddenly grew wide as he looked up at
Julian. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, his gaze
flickering anxiously between the doctors' faces.

"Your sample shows that your virus is as advanced as Brother
Danna's, which means that you've been infected for at least
two to three months," Julian said. "Have you experienced any
fevers? Night sweats? Any unusual symptoms at all?"

"I've been a bit off," Krath said. "Allergies and the like.
I haven't been eating well, but with my schedule that's not
unusual."

Okuna typed a command into the microscope's control panel, a
concerned frown on his face. "If Minister Krath is
infected," he said, "then that means..."

"It means this thing has already spread well beyond the
monastery," Julian finished for him.

"This is a live virus," Girani said, looking at Krath's
sample. "All the other Bajorans had the antibodies but not
the virus."

"Minister," Julian said, swiveling his chair toward him,
"your symptoms--are they recent, on and off, or what?"

Krath frowned. "On and off. I was down one weekend with a
migraine about two months ago then I got over it. I don't
really have time to be sick so I either just go for a
hypospray when I get sick or I just muddle through the best
I can."

"I feel fine," Krath said with a shrug. "I'm a bit tired but
it's been a long day."

Perreira re-scanned him with the tricorder. "Blood pressure
is normal, blood oxidation is normal--no sign of metabolic
acidosis despite the virus being present in his
bloodstream."

"Is that good or bad?" Krath asked.

Julian looked at him. "Honestly, Minister, we don't know.
All we know is that this virus spreads incredibly easily and
it affects the hybrid population differently than it does
full-blooded Bajorans."

"I meet with members of the Bajoran clergy all the time," he
said. "I addressed a meeting just last week with the whole
of the Bajoran Ministry present. There were representatives
from the court system, Bajoran Family Services--these are
people who have contact with hybrid Bajoran children every
day. You're telling me I may have spread this on to
thousands of people?"

Garak spoke up from his place near the door. "Minister, we
don't know enough yet to assume anything. We need to
approach this rationally and with a great deal of caution.
Assuming the worst will accomplish nothing. We have only one
case that we know is advanced thus far. One case does not
make for a global pandemic. All of the other infected,
yourself included, are only experiencing mild symptoms."

"What do we do then?" Krath asked after a second's pause.

"First things first," Garak said. "We need to get the proper
equipment to allow the doctors to see this virus and how it
works more clearly. Until then we can't really know
anything."

"I agree. What about the quarantine? Is there still any
point to it now?" Krath asked.

"Let's just do as Garak suggested and deal with this one
step at a time," Julian answered. "For now we'll continue to
do as we have done. Here's the list of what we'll need." He
handed Krath the PADD. "The neuroscanner and the electron
microscope are the most important items on the list. If you
could just get us those, we can make do and figure out the
rest."

Krath looked it over quickly. "There won't be a problem,
doctor. You'll get everything on the list. Some of these
things I already have access to. I'll send this list to my
assistant and we should have most of it by tomorrow."

"That fast?" Okuna asked, surprised.

"Money has a way of getting things done, Dr. Okuna. I've
been thinking about diversifying into medical technologies
for the last year or two. I have a business associate who
has been suggesting a merger between our companies for some
time now. He'll have most if not all of what is on your
list." Krath turned to Julian. "I plan on keeping the First
Minister informed about everything we're doing here. When
it's prudent to do so we will get the Ministry of Health
involved, but until you know more about what this is Shakaar
would prefer not to alarm the general public."

"We know enough to know that this is a potential health
crisis, Minister," Girani objected. "I work for the Ministry
of Health. I agree that we don't know a lot, but we've
garnered enough information to at the very least send a
general alert out to all clinics and hospitals to be on the
lookout for patients exhibiting these symptoms. We could get
a better idea of how widespread this is."

Krath turned to her. "The recent attempt made by the
Founders to destroy Bajor has already caused a great deal of
unrest. Then there's the recent tensions on Deep Space Nine
and now this..." Krath sighed. "I'll be honest with you; I
agree that on the surface issuing an alert would seem
prudent, but there is a growing sentiment within the
conservative movement that Starfleet is to blame for much of
what has happened. I'm afraid this may tip the scales if we
act without having all the evidence and this virus turns out
to be completely harmless. As you said you have only one
patient you consider critical at this point. If we cause a
public panic...that isn't something you can just take back."

"I agree," Garak said. "If you would like to use the comm
system in the guest cabin or the comm here to contact your
associate...?"

"Thank you. I don't want to disturb the doctor's work and
I'm rather tired so I'll just retire to my quarters. I'm
still on Dakhur time so it's the middle of the night for me.
I'll see you all in the morning."

As soon as he was gone, Girani spoke up. "I don't like the
idea of the public safety being compromised for the sake of
politics. We should, at the very least, get in touch with
all the other monasteries and orphanages with hybrid
children."

"Vedek Merel is making discreet inquiries, I'm sure," Garak
said. "Minister Krath was correct when he suggested we keep
this between us, at least for the moment. You all may have
terminated your relationship with Starfleet but if we issue
an alert and the virus is not serious, as he said, all the
public will see is a group of Starfleet physicians trying to
cause another panic. It will seem to many as though
Starfleet is trying to scare Bajor into joining the
Federation of Planets by concocting crisis after crisis."

"Like the boy who cried wolf," Julian said. "We're getting
the equipment tomorrow--hopefully. As soon as the
neuroscanner gets here I want to have Ziyal brought to the
infirmary followed by Danna and Krath. I want to compare
their readings again. Tonight...let's just eat then go to
bed."

"Uh, doc?" Perreira held up his hand. "About that. The couch
in your cabin is kind of small and none of us here are
exactly short; is there a cot or something we can move in?"

"You take my bed, Perreira," Julian said. "I'll sleep in
here tonight."

"You sure?" he asked. "I can bed down here; it's no big
deal."

"I never had a chance to really unpack so I was able to move
my bags in here earlier. There's a cot and a shower, I'll be
fine."

"I'm not going to say no," Perreira said. "I was afraid I'd
wind up on the floor."

Girani scoffed. "You are such a girl, Perreira! When I was
with the Resistance sleeping on a clean floor would have
been paradise!"

He affected an exaggerated lisp. "We can't all be as butch
as you, darling."

"I am this close to kicking your ass," Girani told him,
holding her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.

"Well, I'm hungry so I'm going to dinner," Okuna said as he
headed for the door. "Let me know later who won the cage
match."

Perreira scooted away from Girani. "Wait for me!" he cried,
following Okuna out of the infirmary.

She rolled her eyes and turned to Julian. "I'm going to
check on Ziyal after dinner, then bed down in their cabin.
Don't skip supper then spend all night on the microscope.
You have to be fresh for when the rest of the equipment gets
here."

"Go eat, Girani. As soon as I've recorded this data, I'll
head for the dining hall, I promise."

"I'll see you over there then," she said as she headed for
the door. "Garak."

"Doctor," Garak said to her with a little nod. After she
left, he turned back to Julian. "Is there anything else you
think we'll need?"

"Probably a lot of things, but until we get a good look at
this virus, I can't know."

"Of course." Garak said, turning away. "Good night, doctor."

"Garak."

The Cardassian turned back to look at him inquiringly.

"I didn't get to finish what I was saying earlier."

"Doctor..."

"Garak, please," Julian interrupted. "I just--I want to
apologize."

"Apologize?" the Cardassian said with a frown.

"That was what I was going to tell you earlier. I was going
to apologize to you for the fact that I was so focused on
what I was feeling and what I had lost that I forgot to take
responsibility for my part in all of this. My lie gave the
Founder the 'in' it needed to infiltrate the station so
successfully." He got up from his chair and approached the
other man carefully. "Did you ever wonder why I was so
fascinated by you when I first arrived to Deep Space Nine?"

"The numerous spy holonovels were a bit of a hint," Garak
said dryly.

"That was just harmless fun, a diversion. I'm talking about
why it is I kept wandering into your space, why I continued
to go to our lunches and read terrible Cardassian
literature."

"I thought you rather enjoyed some of the books I
suggested," Garak said with a frown.

Julian held back a snort. "Garak, there is no entertainment
value in reading novel after novel about sacrifice, death,
and servitude to the State."

"I think that's a matter of opinion..."

"Damn it, you can be so frustrating," Julian muttered. "The
thing I am trying to say, and not very well apparently, is
that the reason you fascinated me was because I thought we
were...the same. In a way."

Garak looked at him, obviously confused. "I'm afraid I don't
understand."

"On the surface, we have nothing in common, but if you
looked underneath--Garak, you were the only Cardassian on
the station, you were a man with secrets, exiled from
everything you once were. You couldn't have known this then,
but being with you comforted me because it meant that *I*
wasn't alone any more."

"You may not have felt alone, doctor. I, however, did,"
Garak replied.

"You have no idea how many times I wished I could tell
someone, Garak. When I found out that you knew the whole
time--" Julian shook his head. "Let's just say that I
understand how angry you are right now, and that is why I'm
apologizing." He met the other man's gaze. "I was afraid
that if I let anyone too close, especially you, that the
house of cards I had built would come tumbling around my
ears. So, I hid. I ran and I pushed you away then pulled you
back in when I needed comfort. I was extremely selfish, even
then I knew I was being selfish, but I kept making excuse
after excuse to justify my behavior toward you. As much as I
hate to admit it, I have a lot of my father in me. If I had
known what the consequences of my hiding the truth were, I
would never have put you--put any of us through this."

Garak averted his eyes for a moment then said, "And I owe
you an apology as well then. As you once said, your only
crime was that you survived. The Founder could have targeted
anyone, the fact that it happened to target you..." He
looked at him. "You have nothing to apologize for any more,
doctor."

"I know I'm asking a lot, Garak, but can we at least start
over?" Julian asked, holding out his hand. "No pressure,
nothing too intimate; just simple friendship. No strings
attached."

Garak looked at him for a moment, then stepped forward,
meeting him halfway. He hesitated, then grasped Julian's
hand. "I'll try. I can promise, however, that I will be
civil and I will try not to continue blaming you for what is
not your fault. After all, despite what you said just now,
this ultimately is all due to decisions I made. I failed us
all when I chose to ignore what my instincts were trying to
tell me. I allowed myself to be fooled; I'm only sorry that
you had to pay the price for my mistake."

Unable to stop himself, Julian asked, "Why did you? Why did
you allow the Founder in so far, so fast?"

"Because it was what I wanted and it seemed so much easier
to let it happen than to question it. I allowed my
loneliness and own selfish needs to cloud my judgment
and...not for the first time. I deliberately chose to ignore
the lessons of my past despite already knowing that."
Garak's lips curved upward in a sad smile. "My failure,
doctor, is that I am my father's son just as much as you are
yours. Your rebellion was to join the service; mine was to
have the hubris to think that I was not bound by the
limitations Tain set upon me."

"I don't understand."

"It's not something that can be easily explained," Garak
said in a low voice. "Let's just say that I made the mistake
of wanting something I could not have and when I got it, I
allowed myself to pretend that there wasn't a hidden cost
attached."

Julian shook his head and frowned, "Garak, I'm sorry, but if
you go through life questioning every gesture of friendship
or intimacy, you'll never be happy."

"Some of us are not meant for happiness." Garak's voice was
steady and his manner tragically confident. "I should see if
the Minister would like a tray sent to his cabin."

"Of course," Julian said. "I'll see you later during
dinner."

He stared at the door long after Garak had gone, his mind
replaying Garak's words over and over again.

Some of us are not meant for happiness.

He sighed and headed out toward the dining hall. Perhaps
Garak was right. Perhaps some people, people like them, were
meant to always be alone.

Perhaps, but he really hoped not.

---
CHAPTER SEVEN: Promises
---

The comm unit was chiming when the medical team returned
from dinner.  Okuna touched the monitor and was greeted by
the image of Major Kira  seated at what was quite obviously
Captain Sisko's desk.

"Oh please tell me this means you chucked that loser
MacKelroy out of an  airlock," he said in lieu of a
greeting.

Kira grinned. //I never realized you were so bloodthirsty,
Dr. Okuna.//

"'First do no harm' only goes so far, you know?" he said in
return.

"Shut up, Okuna," Girani said, coming to stand beside him.
"What's the  news, Major?"

//The news is that MacKelroy has been placed in Federation
custody and  removed from DS9--permanently if I have any say
in it. All of you are to  come home immediately and bring
Ziyal and Jake with you.//

"What about Dr. Bashir?" Okuna asked as Julian gravitated
toward them.

Kira glanced at Julian apologetically. //Sorry. Captain
Figueiredo is  working with Admiral Gilhouley on that but we
haven't heard back yet.//

"At least someone is trying," Julian said with a sigh. "I
can't leave  anyway--none of us can. We're under quarantine,
Major."

//Quarantine? Because of Ziyal?//

"Her and the rest of the monastery. Whatever this virus is,
it's highly  contagious. So far only Ziyal is critical but
there is evidence it has  already spread throughout the
population of Bajor. Who's manning the  Infirmary: the LMH?"

//Dr. Kothrov and part of her team from the Venture.// Kira
frowned. //I  told Figueiredo I'd only be keeping them here
temporarily. How long are  you going to be?//

"We don't have a definite timetable on this thing yet, I'm
afraid."

"Hell, we don't have anything on this thing yet," Girani
grumbled.

//Damn,// Kira said. //I'll tell Figueiredo and try to work
something  out.//

"Major, while you're doing that, could I ask you to send
down a  metabolic scanner and a fetal monitor?" Julian
asked. "Minister Krath is  sending us a shipment of medical
equipment, but the sooner we get a lock  on this thing the
better."

//I'll try,// she said. //The captain has been updating me
on the  Admiral's progress but apparently Ross has been
setting up roadblocks.  Right now, Bajor's relationship with
Starfleet is strained, to say the  least. Shipping Starfleet
equipment down there might not look very good.//

"That's all right, Major," Julian said, rubbing his neck in
frustration.  "We can wait one more day."

//How bad is the outbreak? I assume Shakaar knows if Krath
is down there.//

"I'm not certain that the virus is contained," he said, "but
on the  other hand I don't see any evidence that it's
capable of causing a  serious condition in full-blooded
Bajorans. Ziyal is our only seriously  ill patient, but I'm
not yet satisfied that her problem isn't related in  part to
the stress of the pregnancy. We're being cautious, though,
and  enforcing the quarantine in case the virus does mutate
into something  more dangerous. I'll keep you informed."

//Should I inform Dr. Kothrov?//

"Yes. I'll send up what we have so far and she can start
screening the  inhabitants on the station. Chances are if
it's already gotten as far as  the capital on Bajor then
it's all over the station."

//Understood.//

"I want to thank you for fighting for us, Major," Julian
added. "These  last few days have been a strain. This is at
least one less thing for us  to worry about."

//No need to thank me. We're all still members of the same
team,  politics be damned. I only wish I could do more.//

"You've done plenty," Girani said from beside Julian.

//Just keep Ziyal safe; that's all the thanks I need. I'll
comm you  first thing in the morning if I hear anything and
I'll pass on what you  said to the captain. Maybe she can
use the information about the  outbreak to have your
suspension commuted.//

"Here's hoping," Julian said. "Good night." He reached over
and turned  off the comm unit, then looked around the room
at his colleagues. "Well,  folks, I suppose we wait and
see."

"I'm just glad that MacKelroy got the boot," Okuna said.
"Now all we  have to worry about is the virus and we're home
free."

"And no longer unemployed," Perreira said happily. "I was
not looking  forward to explaining that one to Eva."

Girani rolled her eyes. "Grow a pair already, Perreira.
She's your  sister, not your mommy."

"You know, Girani, just now you reminded me of her."
Perreira said.

"Since I've heard you describe her as an ambitious,
backbiting bitch,  I'll take that as a compliment," Girani
said with a smirk. "I'm going to  check on Ziyal and get
some sleep. Good night."

After Girani left, Perreira cocked a thumb at the door.
"That woman  really, really needs to get laid."

"You volunteering?" Okuna asked.

Perreira shuddered comically. "Oh god, I think Satan just
walked over my  grave. No, wait--that's right, she just
left."

Julian sighed. "Not that I don't find you both hysterical,
but it's been  a long day."

"C'mon, Perreira," Okuna said as he headed for the door.
"The monks have  music and games in the community building
around this time every night.  Care to join us, Dr. Bashir?"

"No, thank you," Julian said, turning back to his work. "I
have some  notes I need to jot down, then I'm going to bed."

"Good night then."

"'Night doc!" Perreira said as he stepped out the door.

Julian waved at them absently, his attention already fixed
on the virion  he'd isolated earlier. This tiny crimson
monster, this product of the  shadows: what are you? Where
the hell did you come from?

Tomorrow, Julian thought, just one more day and then I'll
have you.

---

Girani finished her scan and looked up. "All right, then: I
think we're  doing a little better today. The anti-virals
and the diabetes vaccine  are doing their job. Hopefully
when we get our equipment tomorrow we'll  finally beat this
thing once and for all."

Ziyal leaned against Jake and smiled at her weakly. "Thank
you, doctor.  For everything."

"Do you think we can figure out something with Ziyal's
diet?" Jake asked  with a frown. "I mean, I understand about
the whole low protein thing,  but it's not exactly
appetizing. She's not eating well."

"I'm just not hungry, Jake."

Jake turned to her. "You have to eat, baby."

"Minister Krath is having those new food replicators brought
in  tomorrow," Girani said, giving Ziyal an encouraging
smile. "That'll give  us a more varied selection of food to
work with, and hopefully that'll  perk up your appetite. Any
other problems? Any pain?"

"No," Ziyal replied. "I'm just tired and a little achy."

"Well, hopefully we can fix that soon. Have you decided if
you want to  know the baby's sex yet?"

Jake looked at Ziyal, then back at Girani. "We...want to
wait. Y'know,  just in case."

"You don't think that makes us bad people, do you?" Ziyal
asked. "It's  not that we don't want to know, it's just
that--"

She shook her head. "Ziyal, Jake, I've had a lot of patients
who have  gone through difficult pregnancies. It doesn't
mean that you are bad  people or bad parents just because
you are trying to keep a certain  amount of emotional
distance from the baby right now." She reached out  and took
Ziyal's hand in hers. "What you are going through is hard,
and  it's understandable that you would want to protect
yourself. This baby  may not happen, we know this. However,
you should concentrate on the  positive, not on the
negative. It isn't like it was during the  Occupation. Look
at the O'Brien baby. If you want this child, I promise  you
that I will do everything I can to make it happen."

Ziyal lowered her eyes and bit her lip. "Okay. Just...can we
wait a  little longer before you tell us? I just want to
make sure before..."

"Ziyal, if you want to wait, we'll wait," Jake said in a low
voice.

"Really?"

"Absolutely," he promised.

Girani nodded. "A lot of moms and dads want to wait until
the actual  birth. It makes it more special for them in a
way. No pressure, okay?"

"The baby is healthy, right?" Jake asked. "I mean, can you
tell with  just a scan?"

"He or she is fine, I promise. Tomorrow, Dr. Bashir will
have you taken  to the Infirmary and we'll be able to tell
what's happening in there for  sure. Right now, your little
one is safe and snug, okay?" She got up.  "I'm going to get
some sleep. I'll be right next door if you need anything."

"Thank you, doctor," Jake said as she left. When the door
closed he  turned to Ziyal. "Are you hungry, baby? I can go
get you something from  the kitchen. You didn't touch your
supper."

"I'm fine," she said, snuggling into his chest. "Are you mad
at me?"

"Why would I be mad?" he asked, leaning against the
headboard and  wrapping his arms around her.

"Because I don't want to know if it's a boy or a girl yet."

"No. In fact, I feel the same way you do."

"Really?" she asked as she looked up into his face.

"Sure," he replied with a shrug. "I mean, I want this baby,
but right  now it's just an idea; it doesn't seem real to me
yet. I guess if it  just stays that way then maybe..."

"If we lose it, it won't hurt as much?"

Jake shut his eyes. "It's going to hurt, Zee. Not knowing
won't change  that, but for now *you* are who I need to
worry about."

"Do you want it to be a boy or a girl?" Ziyal asked
suddenly.

"I don't care as long as it's healthy," he answered in a
sleepy voice.

She snorted. "You are so full of it."

"No, I'm not. I honestly don't care."

"Just tell me," she pleaded. "I know you'll love our baby
either way, I  just want to know."

"Not two seconds ago you didn't even want to know the baby's
sex," he  pointed out.

"I'm trying to look on the bright side, like Dr. Girani
said."

"Okay," he said after a moment's pause. "The truth is, I
don't really  care either way. I'd like either or both. All
I know is that this baby  is just the first. I want lots and
lots of babies with you, Zee. I want  little girls with your
hair and eyes and little boys with my height and  your
--everything else. Most of all I just want to raise them
with you  and for us to be a family."

"That's nice," she said quietly, snuggling deeper into his
chest.

He grinned. "I get something right every once in a while."

She suddenly looked up at him again. "Um, Jake?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Exactly how many babies are we talking about?"

"Not many. Just a dozen or so."

She sat up and stared at him, her jaw dropping.

"What?" Jake asked with a twinkle in his eye. "I know it
sounds like a  lot, but just think of how much fun it will
be making that many babies."

"You're incorrigible," Ziyal said, lying back against him.
"Be serious."

"Three, maybe four just to keep things even," he said at
last. "I was an  only child and I always grew up wishing I
had a brother or sister to  rely on, y'know?"

"I have brothers and sisters that I'll never even meet," she
said  quietly. "I wish...I wish things were different, do
you know what I mean?"

"I know," Jake said kissing the top of her hair. "Who knows,
maybe  someday they will be. For now we have each other and
the blob. That's  enough."

"The blob?" she repeated with a laugh.

"Yeah." He placed his hand on her slightly rounded stomach.
"The blob."

"I'm not going to call the baby 'the Blob'."

"What do you want to call it then? Junior? Mystery baby?"
Jake asked.

"Prophets, we haven't even thought about names yet, have
we?" Ziyal said  in alarm.

"We have time, Zee." Jake chuckled.

"Still, we should start thinking about it." Ziyal said
thoughtfully.

"What do you want to name it?"

"We could name it after our fathers if it's a boy."

"Elmo Benjamin Sisko?" Jake snorted. "Not."

"Okay, what about after our mothers if it's a girl?"

"Jennifer Naprem. I like it," Jake said mulling it over.
"Or, we could  call her Deborah Naprem after my
grandmother."

"What's your grandfather's name again?" Ziyal asked.
"Joseph?"

"Joseph Oscar Sisko."

"Oscar..." Ziyal repeated.

"You want to name our baby Oscar?" Jake snorted. "Why? Does
it mean  something weird in Bajoran or something?"

"No, I just like the way it sounds. It seems like a strong
name. Noble."

"Oscar," Jake said dubiously. "Okay, but you get to explain
it to him  the first time he comes home with a bloody nose."

"I like it," Ziyal said simply.

"Oscar or Jenny..." Jake began.

"Or Deborah," Ziyal added.

"Or Deborah," Jake said, sliding further down the bed and
closing his  eyes. "I'm thinking that maybe we should find a
baby name PADD or this  kid is going to have a reason to
hate us from the get go."

---

The transport carrying the medical equipment arrived just
after  breakfast the next morning. Several medical
technicians dressed in  HAZMAT gear beamed down and set up a
large hard sided medical tent, then  helped get the
equipment ready. The neuroscanner alone would have left  the
small infirmary horribly cramped, so Julian was thankful for
Krath's  foresight in having both the tent and a number of
emergency cots sent  down. While the medical tent was being
erected, the food and medical  replicators were being
installed along with the various pieces of  diagnostic
equipment. The monks handled the invasion well and did their 
best to direct the flurry of activity. As soon as the last
machine was  set up and the last few vials of medicine were
stored away, Julian had  Ziyal brought in for testing.

After she was settled comfortably on the biobed, he started
the fetal  scan. "If you look at the holopad beside you,
you'll see what I'm  seeing, all right?"

"Can we see the baby?" Ziyal asked, holding Jake's hand.

"You sure?" Jake asked quietly.

She smiled. "I'm sure."

"Can we, doc?" Jake asked.

"I think we can manage that," Julian said, entering a
command on the  scanner's control panel. The transducer
hovered over Ziyal's midsection;  after a brief pause, a
hazy light began to shimmer just above the  holopad beside
the bed. A tiny ball of light shimmered and moved, then 
grew. "I'm magnifying the image. Hold on."

Ziyal and Jake gasped as a three-dimensional rendering of
their baby  appeared before them. Ziyal reached out her hand
toward the little  bundle of life. "Oh my..."

The fetus stretched and moved its legs, turning over with a
comical yawn.

"It's a boy," Jake said excitedly as the fetus flashed him
for just a  fraction of a second. "It's a boy!"

Ziyal laughed. "Look! He has your eyes."

Jake reached out to touch the image, watching in awe as the
light  scattered for a moment before solidifying over his
fingertips again.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a few more weeks before you
can hold  him," Julian said with a smile.

"Oh my God, this is awesome." Jake said, staring at his son.

"It is fairly awesome, isn't it?" Julian agreed. "This type
of scanner  isn't even on the market yet."

"How accurate is it?" Ziyal asked, jumping a little then
laughing as the  baby began to hiccup.

"Very." Julian took a moment to look at the image. "See the
slight  embellishment on the baby's forehead and the light
ridging on his nose?  He's still got another fifteen weeks
or so to go but he's already  starting to look like his
parents." He zoomed in on the fetus's hands.  "See his
little fingers?" The baby, as if on cue, brought them up to
his  mouth and began to suck on his tiny hand.

"Jake..." Ziyal breathed.

"I can't believe this is real," Jake said, amazed. "Zee,
that's our  baby. That's me and you in there."

"Oscar," Ziyal said, smiling. "Look Jake, it's Oscar."

"Oscar?" Julian repeated then looked at the baby
objectively. "He does  look a little like Dorian Gray,
doesn't he?"

"Dorian Gray?" Ziyal asked, turning to Jake.

"I'll...explain it later." Jake turned to Julian. "He's okay
though, right?"

"He's a healthy eight-week-old fetus," Julian said,
magnifying the image  again. "He's very well developed and
he appears to be growing at a  normal rate for a Bajoran
infant. Ten fingers, ten toes, one...well,  let's just say
he's going to be a big boy."

"That's my boy! Chip off the old block," Jake said. Ziyal
smacked him  lightly.

Julian downloaded an image of the fetus onto a padd and gave
it to Jake,  smiling at the two of them. "Here's a picture
of Oscar. Jake, if you  could push your chair back a bit? I
need to set up the neuroscanner."

As he maneuvered the heavy piece of equipment so that the
transducer sat  over Ziyal's head and shoulders, he gave her
another confident smile. "I  promise we'll get back to Oscar
after I've tracked down our little viral  friend," he told
her.

He began the scan, then frowned as the first results came
up. The brain  was relatively free of virus particles, but
there were signs that the  spinal nerves had withstood a
recent attack. He panned down and scanned  the cervical
spine.

"What is it, doc?" Jake asked.

Julian repositioned the scanner again, entering a series of
commands on  the neuroscanner's control panel. "I don't
know," he said to Jake. "Give  me a minute."

As the results of the thoracic scan came up, he swore under
his breath.  The damn thing had set up shop in her dorsal
root ganglia all the way  from T-4 to L-6, but most of all
in the T-9 to L-1 area. No wonder she  was having digestive
problems; the nerves leading to and from her small 
intestine, stomach, pancreas, and liver were completely
involved, and  the ganglia had shrunk by over 50%.

"Doc?" Jake repeated nervously.

"It's fine, Jake. I'm just concentrating."

He isolated a virion from the left L-1 ganglion and brought
the image to  maximum magnification. What he saw made him
want to drop his jaw. He  managed--barely--to keep his
surprise in check as he saved the image to  a file. He then
moved the transducer down and locked in on the fetus's 
newly-formed nervous system.

"Does Oscar have the virus, too?" Ziyal asked.

"Yes," Julian said after a moment, keeping his voice
neutral, "but he  seems perfectly healthy otherwise. No need
to worry yet." He shut off  the scanner.

"That's it?" Jake asked in surprise.

"That's it. I have to examine a few more patients but we
should be done  for the day." Julian smiled at Ziyal as he
helped Jake ease her up and  onto a hoverchair. "It's a
lovely day out. Why don't you take your PADD  and go visit
with Garak for a while? I know he's been wanting to see
you."

"Is it safe?" Ziyal asked.

"Absolutely," he said. "Go out and have some fun today. Just
don't tire  yourself out too badly. The minute I have
something you'll both be the  first to know, all right?"

"Thank you, doctor," Jake said, shaking his hand.

He watched as Jake pushed Ziyal's chair out of the tent,
then turned  back to the scanner, switching it on and
bringing up the saved image of  the virion again.

"What the hell..." Okuna said in a low voice as he entered
the tent and  looked over Julian's shoulder.

"It's a - I guess we could call it a nanovirus," Julian
said, looking at  the inner workings of the tiny bio-robot.
"Half-nanite, half-virus, if  this is correct."

"I guess that confirms our theory that it was manufactured,"
Okuna said  faintly.

Julian looked up. "Send in Danna, then Krath," he said. "I
need to  figure out what is going on here."

"What is it?"

Julian brought the images of Ziyal's virion and her fetus's
virion side  by side.

"That's not right," Okuna said with a frown. "The virus
isn't the same  from one patient to another? Even from
mother to infant?"

"Look closer," Julian said, magnifying the RNA strands.
"What does that  remind you of?"

Okuna's mouth dropped. "Holy jumping..."

"We need to scan Krath and Brother Danna before we can know
for sure,  but I think we might just have figured this one
out," Julian said, his  eyes flashing. "But first, I need to
make a call."

"Who are you going to comm?" Okuna said, still staring at
the virus in  shock.

"Shakaar."

"Why? We don't know anything for certain yet."

"I know enough," Julian said grimly as he sat behind his
desk and waited  for the comm unit to connect.

---

A few hours later, the rest of the assembled medical team
stared at the  holoimages of the four separate virions in
rapt silence.

"Right," Julian said, walking over to the holopad and
pointing to each  in turn. "Ziyal, the fetus, Krath, and
Danna. What do you see?"

"The damn thing is adapting to each one of their specific
DNA  sequences," Girani said grimly.

"What does that mean?" Reven asked.

"It means," Okuna said, "that the reason the hybrids were
the first  population to experience symptoms is because
Ziyal was the first one to  be infected."

Reven frowned at him. "How do you know that for sure? I
mean, that Ziyal  was the first?"

"It's what the numbers are telling us," Julian answered as
he typed in a  command. A full body scan of Ziyal's internal
organs appeared; the  trillions of tiny virions were
highlighted in a glowing red. "Ziyal was  subjected to a
massive dose of this nanovirus, which is probably why her 
symptoms are so advanced. Krath and Danna have less than
half that amount."

Okuna walked over to the scanner and adjusted the output
until the  virions were once again magnified side by side.
"See this RNA strand in  Ziyal's virion? It's the same as
the virion in Danna's system." He moved  Danna's and Ziyal's
virions to the side and brought up the others. "This  is
Krath's virion and this is the baby's. See the difference?"

"I don't get it," Perreira said in confusion.

Okuna pointed to the strands. "It means that our
'off-the-wall'  conspiracy theory about how the virus was
originally targeted toward the  Cardassians was probably
correct. When Ziyal was infected, the virus  encountered her
unique immune system first. Being half-Bajoran she has 
different immune markers than a pure-blooded Cardassian
would, so the  virus adapted to its environment."

"This isn't a normal virus," Julian said, taking over. "It's
a  nanovirus; a biologically based nanite. We've seen this
type of  technology before."

"Borg," Perreira said with a scowl.

"Exactly."

"Wait!" Girani said. "First we thought we were dealing with
Founder  technology, and now we're looking at something
created by the Borg?"

"It's both and it's neither," Okuna answered. "Someone has
taken  Jem'Hadar DNA and transformed it into a virus by
applying Borg  nanotechnology."

Reven's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"Us," Julian replied. "Or someone with our level of
technology. Perhaps  the Romulans or someone else, but this
originated in the Alpha Quadrant.  As Dr. Okuna and I
started sifting through the data I kept seeing  evidence
that some of the base codes in this virion match the data I 
recorded in my own research concerning the Ketracel White.
That means  that whoever created this had to have access to
that information."

"But whoever created it didn't have all of the information
they needed,"  Okuna said. "Dr. Bashir's the foremost expert
on Ketracel White, and  even he'll readily admit he's months
or even years away from completely  understanding the
process used in its creation. We're equally in the  dark
when it comes to Borg technology, but whoever this mad
scientist  was, he decided he knew just enough to create a
bioweapon that could be  programmed to attack people with a
specific DNA signature."

"But it didn't work," Julian continued. "Because Ziyal was
infected  first, the virus recognized her Cardassian DNA but
couldn't cope with  her Bajoran immune system so it adapted
by attacking and retreating  until it learned how to
overcome it."

"Exactly." Okuna turned to him. "Whoever did this failed to
take into  account that Borg technology is specifically
designed to adapt and  reprogram itself."

"Which is why the infected would get sick then get better
again," Reven  said, his face clearing.

"After learning Ziyal's immune system and its limitations,"
Okuna added,  "the virus has changed its base programming
and now thinks its job is to  infect hybrids; resistance
is--well, you get where I'm going with that.  It basically
did its job, just not the one it was originally intended 
for. It also didn't stop doing that job. Borg nanites infect
and adapt;  it's so ingrained into them that whatever
firewalls the programmer  placed within the nanovirus's
coding must have failed." He shook his  head. "Ziyal and the
rest of the hybrids are part Bajoran, so now that  the
nanovirus has changed its programming, it now believes it
should  attack Bajorans as well. Because the Bajoran immune
system is stronger  than the hybrid population's immune
systems, it again needs time to adapt."

"So it's jumping from one species to another based on
Ziyal's genetic  make up," Perreira said.

"Hold on," Girani said with a frown. "Ziyal's baby is
half-human. Humans  are immune, right? None of you are
infected."

"Which is why the virus is different in the fetus's system,"
Julian said.

"So once Ziyal's baby is born, it could jump another species
line and  infect humans?" Perreira asked.

"It could, but we aren't going to let it get that far,"
Julian said with  a triumphant grin. "The creator of this
nanovirus didn't count on anyone  here discovering its
existence. Cardassian medical technology is  woefully
limited so I'm guessing they counted on the likelihood that
its  true nature might not have been discovered until the
damage was done.  But we found it instead, and we've also
discovered that it contains a  shut-off sequence built into
its DNA. If we use a drug with a yridium  bicantizine base
it should do the trick."

"That's it?" Perreira asked doubtfully. "I mean, we thought
of using the  White as a possible treatment days ago."

"But before now, we weren't sure it would work," Okuna said
pointedly.  "It's also not that easy to get ahold of.
Yridium bicantizine is created  by breaking down tri-nucleic
fungi and the only place you can find that  in the Alpha
Quadrant is on Kabrel I. Even if the Cardassians figured 
that out, they'd have to negotiate with the Federation for
the cure  since Kabrel I is a Federation planet."

"Which means Garak's theory is looking more solid than
ever," Julian  said. "Unless they obtained the cure from us,
the disease would ravage  their entire population. The
second they came to us for help, the  Federation would
expect Cardassia to sign a peace treaty with the  Federation
at the very least; they might even have required Cardassia
to  demilitarize. Either way, we are the ones who would have
benefited had  it worked."

"Why didn't Garak get infected then?" Girani asked. "I mean,
if your  theory is correct wouldn't he be even more sick
than Ziyal right now?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Okuna said as he pulled up
another  holoimage. "Here's Garak's scan, though: nothing."

"So you're saying that the only race safe from this disease
are the  Cardassians?" Reven asked incredulously.

"Garak is the proof," Julian said. "No antibodies, no
virions."

Perreira frowned. "How the hell can that be?"

"Do you remember when Tekeny Ghemor died?" Okuna asked.

"Yes, but he died of Yarim Fel Syndrome," Girani said.
"That's not  viral; that's an autoimmune disease."

"You're right," Julian cut in, "but if the programmer didn't
know that  and devised this little monster to mimic the
symptoms of Yarim Fel  Syndrome while at the same time
ensuring that it didn't respond to  hexadrin..." He looked
up at his team. "Cardassian spinal cords aren't  even prone
to viral infections. The cell walls are too tough. This
could  never have been successful."

Girani scowled. "That doesn't make any sense! Why would
anyone create a  bioweapon to eliminate a specific
population and then fail to take into  consideration
something as basic as that?"

"Federation scientists know very little about Cardassian
physiology,"  Julian explained. "Had I been one of the
scientists creating this virus,  I might have made the same
error. The only reason I know is because I  operated on
Garak's brain three years ago."

"So this was a fuck-up from the get go?" Girani said

Julian nodded. "Garak said Section 31 doesn't operate like a
formal  covert ops group. They work in cells, and the left
hand doesn't know  what the right hand is doing, so it would
be possible for a number of  scientists to be working
independently on different aspects of the  nanovirus. I
suspect, though, that they hired someone from outside the 
Federation to create it." He met their gazes. "If you pay a
scientist on  Adigeon Prime or Calopas VI enough money,
they'll do whatever you want  them to do. That's one of the
reasons why it's illegal to seek medical  treatment there. I
could have been rendered profoundly autistic by the 
procedures my parents had done to me; many humans who went
through the  same procedures are institutionalized. However,
if you want something  done and you don't want to leave a
paper trail behind, that's where you  go. My guess is that
this was done quickly and with little regard to any 
potential collateral damage. The shadow group wanted the
virus and the  scientist wanted his or her money. This is
the result."

"But you can cure this?" Reven asked.

"We applied a solution of yridium bicantizine to some of the
virions in  vitro and this is what happened," Okuna said as
the holoimage changed.  The bright crimson of the original
virion dimmed then turned dark and  shadowed. "The virions
completely shut down. No activity whatsoever."

"How soon can we start administering it?" Reven asked.

"I want to test it first," Julian replied. "Since Ziyal is
the furthest  along she'll receive the first dose."

"What about Danna and the rest?" Reven said with a frown.

"As soon as we are sure Ziyal is out of the woods, we'll
inoculate  everyone in the compound and notify the Ministry
of Health," Okuna  answered for him.

"Any other questions?" Julian paused for a moment, then
turned to  Girani. "If that's all, then all we have left is
to decide when to  administer the hypo to your patient."

"It's ready?" she asked in surprise.

"Dr. Bashir had just enough White left over from his
research to produce  one dose," Okuna said, holding up a
hypospray.

"I spoke to Dr. Kothrov an hour ago," Julian added. "She
said she can  get more for us by the end of the week. By
that time we should know for  sure that the drug is
working." He smiled. "She's your patient, Girani.  Care to
do the honors?"

Girani got up and took the hypospray from Okuna with a grin.
"I'd love to."

"You know, when this thing gets out the shit is going to hit
the fan,"  Perreira said. "Even if we can't prove it in
court, there's enough  medical evidence here to really
embarrass the Federation."

"Perreira has a point," Girani said. "You're already on thin
ice with  Command. Being a whistleblower isn't going to do
your career any favors  at this point."

"Doc Bashir already thought of that," Okuna answered.

They all looked at him expectantly.

"I commed Shakaar with the results before I commed Dr.
Kothrov...then I  officially resigned my commission from
Starfleet," Julian said. "You're  looking at the new head of
Infectious Disease Control for the Bajoran  Provisional
Government."

"So that means what?" Perreira asked. "I mean, as a Bajoran
doctor does  that mean that you can now come back to DS9?"

"As soon as things have quieted down here," Julian replied.
"No  commission means no suspension. It was Shakaar's idea.
I'll be a  civilian working for the Bajoran government from
here on out."

"You sure you want to do that, doc?" Perreira said
cautiously. "I mean,  you worked hard for your commission.
That’s a lot to give up."

"I'll still be doing the same job I always was," he replied.
"The only  thing that will change is the uniform or the lack
of one."

"Sometimes it's better to work outside of the military."
Okuna said.  "MacKelroy showed us that. As a civilian with
clout you might be out of  the loop for a few things, but
you'll also have a lot more freedom."

"Which is another reason why I was happy enough to take off
my pips."  Julian said. "Don't get me wrong; I loved being
an officer, but now I  need the freedom to be a doctor. I
was in a position where one could  potentially interfere
with the other so I decided the only thing I could  do was
resign."

"Like I said before, sometimes you have to say fuck the
career and do  the job!" Girani said with a grin.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Julian agreed.

"It's about damn time we had some good news around here,"
Okuna said,  heading out the door. "Let's go see Ziyal and
then raid the wine cellar.  First bottle is on me."

---

"I feel so much better this morning!" Ziyal said as Jake and
Julian  helped her get on the biobed the next day. "And my
appetite--I can't  believe I ate that much food."

"It was kind of scary," Jake said ruefully. "She ate her
breakfast, my  breakfast, and then wanted me to go get some
more. When I told her you  said she had to stick to small
meals at first I swear I thought I was  next on the menu."

Ziyal rolled her eyes. "Oh, hush."

"As long as it's not hurting you, I don't mind you having a
little  extra," Julian said. "Gaining a little weight won't
hurt, but your  stomach is still a bit shaky and you don't
want to push it. Small  frequent meals--six to eight a day
and you need to let Jake eat as well,  all right?"

She frowned at the two of them. "He was exaggerating, but I
understand.  Now define 'small', because I could really use
a snack right now."

"I told you, doc--scary." Jake said, shaking his head. "If
she keeps  this up by the time the baby is born she'll be as
big as a house."

She threw him a look. "And?"

"And nothing," Jake added. "I like a woman with some meat on
her bones."

"Good."

"In fact, I love big girls," he continued, his eyes
twinkling. "Big,  bouncy girls with nice round...eyes."

"Shut up," she said, snorting as Jake winked at her.

Julian chuckled at the pair. "I can tell you're also in much
better  spirits today. Let's see if young Master Oscar is
feeling similarly  perky, shall we?" He positioned the fetal
scanner over Ziyal's uterus  and turned it on. Jake and
Ziyal held each other's hands as the image of  their son
shimmered above the holopad.

"He's asleep," Ziyal whispered.

"He can't hear us, Zee," Jake said as he looked up at
Julian. "Can he?"

"Yes," he replied, "somewhat. Right now we're just
background noise  though; no need to whisper."

"Can he, uh..." Jake began, fumbling his words a little.

Julian held back a grin. "It's okay to have sex during the
pregnancy as  long as Ziyal is comfortable. The baby won't
be disturbed by it, I promise."

"Oh, good."

Ziyal smacked his arm. "Jake!"

"Well--I wanted to know," he said sheepishly. "I didn't want
to...bump  anything."

"Jake..." she hissed as she flushed a deep scarlet.

Julian gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's
okay. That  is a very common question new parents ask all
the time. I take it Dr.  Girani hasn't gone over this with
you yet?"

"We've been a little distracted," Ziyal said, still
blushing.

"To say the least," Jake muttered.

"If you would feel more comfortable asking her, I
understand," Julian  assured them both. "But if you want,
you can ask me anything. I won't be  shocked or embarrassed,
I promise. There is very little I haven't seen  or heard so
you don't need to hold back."

"Can...can we..." Ziyal asked, dropping her eyes. "I mean,
is it safe  to...?"

Jake placed his hand on her shoulder. "We're getting married
later this  afternoon so this is kind of our honeymoon."

"I'd heard that!" Julian said. "Congratulations! However,
for now I  think you should remain on pelvic rest until Dr.
Girani clears you. I'll  meet with her after your scan and
give her the results then she'll meet  with you both, all
right?"

"Yes, doctor," Ziyal said.

Jake looked at the image of their son again. "His eyelids
are moving; is  that normal? I mean, can he dream?"

"We don't know," Julian said, looking at the baby closely.
"Probably. If  they do it's a good dream. He's warm and safe
and floating in a world of  sound and water. All he knows at
this point is pure happiness."

"That's nice," Ziyal murmured as she stared at her child in
wonder.

Jake bent down and kissed her forehead then grasped her hand
again and  squeezed.

As Julian wheeled out the neuroscanner and powered up the
transducer,  Jake put a protective arm around Ziyal as they
quietly marveled over the  new life they'd created, joy and
contentment evident in every word they  murmured to each
other. He was loath to interrupt them, but after a few 
moments he spoke up. "Let's get this scanner in place, shall
we?" he  said to Jake. "If you'll lie down flat on the bed,
Ziyal?"

She slid down the bed. "How's that?" she asked.

"Perfect."

He began the scan, then increased the magnification until he
could see  the virions clearly. The drug seemed to be
working: the once  brilliantly-colored nanovirions were now
dark and lifeless, and some  were beginning to disintegrate.
He moved the scanner lower; the same  process was taking
place in the fetus as well.

"Is everything okay?" Jake asked.

"We're good," Julian replied, saving the data for later
review. "Most of  them are dead and the rest appear to be
dying. I think we're almost out  of the woods."

Jake cupped Ziyal's face and kissed her reverently. "I love
you," he  said to her as they broke apart. "I was so
scared...god, don't ever do  that to me again, okay?"

"I didn't do it on purpose the first time," Ziyal said, "but
I promise  to try."

"And I'll hold you to that, young lady," Julian said,
breaking in.  "Remember, we're not quite done here yet. I
want to keep you here at  least another week or two until
the virus is completely out of your  system. No strenuous
exercise and, as I said, you need to speak to Dr.  Girani
before resuming normal sexual activity."

"You got it, doc," Jake said, reaching out to shake his
hand. "Thank you  so much. For everything."

Julian clasped the younger man's hand. "It was my pleasure,
Jake."

Ziyal frowned. "Jake..."

"Oh, yeah." He looked back up. "Um, about the wedding...how
much do you  know about Bajoran bonding ceremonies?"

"Not a lot," Julian admitted.

"Well, um, we're waiting until my dad is back to have the
civil ceremony  on DS9 but we wanted to go ahead and have
the religious service here.  I...already said that, right?
Anyway, the thing is I need a witness for  my side--Garak is
Zee's, and I was wondering..."

"You want me to be your best man?" Julian asked in surprise.

"It's not exactly the same as a best man," Jake said
quickly. "It's more  like you would be representing the head
of my family since my dad can't  be here, but yeah. Only if
you want to, though."

"I'd love to," he replied. "I'm somewhat surprised that
you'd pick me,  though. Dan and Adam are both closer to your
age."

"Well, I could have asked one of them, but you're one of the
first  people I met when my dad and I came here and if it
weren't for you..."  Jake reached out and took Ziyal's hand,
then looked back toward him.  "You saved my family, doc. I
can never repay you for that. Next to  dad..." Jake flushed.
"You know what I mean. I want you there, doc. Really."

"I had a lot of help, Jake, but thank you." Julian said,
touched. "Is  there anything I need to do or wear? I could
replicate a suit, I  suppose. I only brought jeans and some
t-shirts along."

"Actually, yeah." Jake said. "There's some kind of rule
about not  wearing...what did they call it, Zee?"

"Mixed fiber clothing," Ziyal supplied, turning to Julian.
"No  replicated materials or clothing made from blended
material can be worn  by the wedding party or witnesses. One
of the other monks had some  wedding robes she's loaning us
since everything we brought is  replicated, but maybe we can
see if they have something for you as well."

Julian frowned. "I may have something, but it's just jeans
and a sweater  like I said. It's probably not appropriate
for--"

"That's fine!" Jake said. "Like we said, it's not a formal
ceremony.  Most everyone there will either be in work robes
or jeans."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. In fact, if the monks hadn't had the robes
already that's  what I'd be wearing myself." Jake smiled.
"All that matters to us is  that you're there. We can save
the formal stuff for when my dad gets home."

"In that case just tell me when and where to stand and I'm
your man."

"After dinner in the temple," Jake said. "You have no idea
how much this  means to me, doc."

Julian took the young man's hand in a warm clasp once again.
"It means a  lot to me too, Jake."

What was that like, he wondered as he watched them leave
together. He'd  never felt that level of joy the two young
people were obviously feeling  right now. Something had
always held him back. He'd never allowed  himself the
freedom of truly loving or wanting something that badly, and 
he'd especially never considered having a child.

Part of that came from his fear of passing on his genetic
imperfections,  but mostly it was his fear of intimacy. He
was so determined not to  become his father that the very
idea of having a child had caused him to  immediately break
off his engagement with Palis. They'd agreed not to  have
children, but she'd changed her mind, informing him of her
decision  on the eve of their engagement party; he'd bolted. 
And yet, he thought,  there'd been Gaia, the planet where
the Defiant had been knocked back in  time and stranded. A
planet filled with the descendants of the  crew...his
crew...

The fact that he, or rather an alternate version of himself,
had  fathered several generations of descendants had
intrigued and amazed  him, not just because they had all
been born healthy and whole but  because his other self had
found the courage to somehow take that leap  of faith. He
certainly hadn't had the inclination to do so. Julian had 
joked with Miles about how he and Ensign Kirby, the young
woman his  counterpart had married, should get together, but
he'd practically  shunned the young woman after returning to
the station. She had made  overtures which he'd rejected in
a fairly callous fashion; Kirby had  ended up despising him
and, possibly out of embarrassment, had  transferred to
another posting shortly thereafter.

Why was letting someone in so hard? How was it that two
teenagers had  the emotional maturity to accept the
responsibility of having a family  when he, a man in his
thirties, could not? He wanted intimacy--he wanted  it
specifically with Garak, but a relationship with the other
man came  with numerous complications. Namely, the children.

He thought about Garak and the way he looked at Lewin and
Kela. The  Cardassian's eyes held the same pride Jake's had
when he'd looked at his  unborn son. Although they were not
his children in the biological sense,  Garak was their
father: of that there was no doubt.

Guilt flooded Julian as he flashed back on their
conversation when he'd  tried to reach out to him. He was so
focused on making Garak see *him*  that he'd forgotten about
Lewin and Kela and their place in Garak's  life. It was an
all-or-nothing situation; to be with Garak now would  mean
he would have to accept the responsibility of potentially
becoming  the co-parent to a ready-made family.

Him, the man who used to be adamant about never dating
virgins or people  with children. The man to whom anything
deeper than a mutual love of sex  was anathema...

He was thirty-three years old, a grown man, and yet he still
thought of  himself as the blithe, thoughtless teenager he'd
once been, the kid  whose main obsession in life was
fucking. But he was beginning to  realize that deep down he
wasn't that boy any more. He was a man, and he  wanted
something more.

He sighed as he looked up at the chrono. Perhaps his lack of
enthusiasm  was nothing but post-traumatic stress, but he
didn't think so. He'd  simply grown up, and he wanted the
kind of stability and love that Miles  had with Keiko and
Dax had with Worf. But could he turn himself into a  family
man? Everyone else seemed to have no problem with it. Could
he  love Kela and Lewin? Could he possibly handle that
responsibility?

He thought back to Jake, picturing him as he stood beside
his soon-to-be  wife. The boy he had met almost six years
ago was now a man,  straight-backed and proud as he looked
into his future eagerly. This  wasn't a teenager who had
gotten in trouble, no; Jake was a man, a  father, and soon
he would be a husband, and he handled that fact with  grace
and pride. Could Julian really do no less?

If he truly wanted Garak, if he really wanted to change the
course of  his life and really embrace who Jules Bashir
could be, then yes: he could.

Now he just had to get Garak to go along with it.

---

Julian returned to the Infirmary after dinner to change. As
he pulled  out the old but clean blue jeans and slipped them
on, he let out a sigh  of relief: after five years they
still fit! He suspected that the  exercise regimen he'd
started while in the Dominion prison had restored  his
physique to its former condition. Now all he had to do was
keep  himself in shape, he thought ruefully. He decided to
put himself on a  strict exercise routine starting tomorrow.
After all, while he was on  Bajor he didn't have any
excuses; there were no long lines at the  holosuites, no
patients or paperwork, and no Miles O'Brien luring him to 
Quark's for beer and darts.

Miles had probably done it out of revenge, he thought with a
snort.  After all the fuss he kept making about how out of
shape the Chief was,  Miles probably figured that if he got
Julian to be as fat and lazy as he  was he'd just shut up
about it and let him do whatever he wanted. Well,  no more.
He was no longer going to fall for the Irishman's blarney
about  how raising a pint with one hand while throwing a
dart with the other  counted as weightlifting. That era of
self-delusion had come to an end.

He stood in front of the mirror and examined his reflection
critically.  The jeans were a go, and so were the well-worn
trainers he kept for his  rare jogging forays into the
holosuites. Competitive tennis had taught  him not to be
stingy with his savings when it came to buying athletic 
shoes. They had been the latest thing in Vulcan-engineered
athletic wear  when he bought them several years back.
They'd cost him more than two  weeks salary but after six
years they were still comfortable and  decent-looking; most
importantly, they were made of natural materials,  as was
most Vulcan clothing. He supposed the fact that the soles
and the  uppers were of different materials wouldn't count
since technically they  weren't mixed but merely attached.
If there were any objections, though,  he'd just show up in
his socks. The only thing that had him worried was  the
sweater - the one Garak had made for his doppelganger.

It was a beautiful work of craftsmanship, to be sure, and
more  appropriate than anything else he had to wear, but he
was worried about  the Cardassian's reaction to seeing it.
He stifled a curse and pulled on  the sweater, then ran his
fingers through his curls roughly. It would  just have to
do. He couldn't risk ruining Jake and Ziyal's wedding 
because of a damned fashion crisis, now could he?

Julian took one last look at his reflection. The deep bronze
and brown  threads of the sweater made his skin look darker;
it also somehow made  the beard he had begun to grow look
more like a deliberate attempt at  stylish disregard than
laziness.

That was probably a good thing, he realized, since a glance
at the  chrono told him he didn't have time to shave anyway.
A quick check of  his breath and he was out the door and on
his way to the temple, his  mind trying to shut out the
voice in his head telling him that wearing  the sweater was
a mistake.

He was met outside by Brother Reven, who handed him the
earcuff he was  to wear during the ceremony and gave him a
brief rundown of what to  expect, then he joined Jake in the
prylar's ready room at the back  entrance. The young man was
fidgeting nervously as a slim, older Bajoran  man in monk's
robes knelt at his feet with a mouth full of pins.

"Calm down!" the older man said. "If you don't stop
shuffling your feet  I'll draw blood and Sister Yew will
never forgive me if her late  husband's wedding robes are
damaged."

"Sorry, Brother Lum," Jake said, breathing in a deep calming
breath.  "I'm just--"

"Ready to get it over with?" Lum said with a snort. "I know
what you  mean. I was the same way right before my bonding
ceremony. There." He  put in the last stitch. "Not up to
Brother Elim's standards, I'll wager,  but good enough for
an old sailmaker like myself. You'll do."

"Dr. Bashir!" Jake cried in relief as he finally noticed
him. "Did you  see Ziyal? How did she look? She is out
there, right?"

"Calm down, Jake," Julian said, stepping forward. "I didn't
see her but  I'm sure she's fine."

"The boy's going to give himself a heart attack," Lum said
as he got to  his feet stiffly and held his hand out towards
Julian. "Brother Lum. You  must be Dr. Bashir. Good thing,
too, since I think kneeling on this  floor has about thrown
out my back."

"Do you need me to get my medkit?" Julian asked as he shook
his hand.

"I'll make it. If chasing after younguns all day hasn't done
me in,  twenty minutes on my knees pinning robes won't do
it." He looked at Jake  critically. "My Prophets! Sister
Yew's husband must have been a damned  giant. I thought this
boy was tall but he had to have had a good four  inches on
him." He shook his head. "Seeing as Yew was all of maybe
five  foot four before old age shrunk her, that must have
been one hell of a  union."

"You're the headmaster at the school?" Julian asked with a
grin.

"That and dorm mother," he said. "Tells you something when
they pick an  old salt like me to teach children and tuck
them into bed every night,  but I'm no farmer. Wrestling
with the minds of hard-headed kids is all  I'm good for -
that and taking care of the ponds. You're Kela's Julian, 
eh? That girl does nothing but talk about you day and
night."

"I'm rather fond of her as well," Julian said. "If I may
ask, why is a  seaman such as yourself here and not in the
Hendrikspool monastery? It  seems like that would be a
better fit."

"No one comes to the Ministry of the Forgotten Children
without a reason  or a story behind it, doctor," Lum said as
he patted Jake on the  shoulder. "'Sides, this young man
doesn't want to hear an old fool like  me talk about such
things on his big day, right?"

Jake shrugged. "Actually, it might get my mind off of how
nervous I am.  That is if you don't mind, sir?"

"Sir!" Lum snorted. "That pa of yours raised you right,
that's for sure.  Well, truth is, I did live in the
Hendrikspool monastery for nearly four  years before I came
here, but not as a monk: as a patient."

"A patient?" Jake asked with a frown.

"Hendrikspool is where they send the heartsick, my boy," Lum
said  kindly. "After my wife died, my sons and I ran boats
off the coast to  catch fish for the local Gul's table. My
youngest, Dervin, joined the  Resistance without telling any
of the rest of us and got caught with a  boatload of escaped
prisoners below deck. The Gul rounded the rest of us  up and
executed Dervin right in front of me, then sent the rest of
my  sons up to work the mines. I was thrown in prison until
the Occupation  ended, too old and ornery to work anything
but a net. When I got out,  everyone was gone. My remaining
sons died in a mine shaft on one of the  moons and my eldest
son's wife and daughter died when Dukat leveled  Tzenketh."

"Tzenketh?" Julian asked in confusion. "The planet
Tzenketh?"

"The planet?" Lum chuckled. "No, son. It's not there any
more, but Bajor  used to have a mountain range called
Tzenketh about two thousand  kilometers east of here. Sky,
that's my boy's name, sent his family  there to hide before
the Cardassian's came for him. Three days before  the
Occupation ended, Dukat leveled it to silence Varrat once
and for  all. Apparently Seral and their daughter had found
shelter with his  terrorist cell and died in the cave-in. At
least that's what was  assumed. She never came home and I
never heard from them. About damn  near killed me."

"I've heard of Varrat," Jake said. "Nog told me about him.
He was some  kind of folk hero during the Occupation. Some
people say he got away  after the mountain range was
destroyed. About two dozen people claimed  to be the real
Varrat after the Occupation ended but no one could ever 
prove it. I think Quark still has a betting pool on whether
or not he'll  ever show up again."

"Varrat is dead and gone, son," Lum said. "You don't come
back from  something like that."

"Was he a Resistance cell leader like Shakaar?" Julian
asked.

"No, he was more like the Resistance's version of Tokyo
Rose," Jake  replied. "He would have these nightly subspace
broadcasts that the  Cardassians could never seem to block
and he would talk about stuff like  top secret plans and
embarrass the Cardassian High Command by exposing  all their
personal secrets."

"Varrat. That means truth sayer, right?" Julian interjected.

"And a truth sayer he was for sure," Lum said with a grin.
"It wasn't  just gossip he was telling; he knew what he was
talking about. It kept  many a Bajoran's spirit afloat. He
had them Cardies running in circles  trying to shut him up!
My favorite ones were when he used to talk about  your
girl's daddy: no offense."

"None taken," Jake said easily. "Let's just say that my
future  father-in-law is probably as fond of me as I am of
him."

"So what brought you here?" Julian asked the monk.

"After I curled up with a bottle and tried to drown in my
own misery, my  cousin from the monastery found me and
dragged my carcass to  Hendrikspool so I could dry out. I
spent the first three years there in  total silence, just me
and my grief. After a while, I started living  again. I took
up the robes, and when Merel and Danna started the 
orphanage I decided that if I couldn't be a grandfather to
my own blood  then I could for some that didn't have family
either. That's why most of  us are here. Just about every
monk in this place, male or female, has  lost a parent,
child, or a spouse to the Occupation. This isn't just a 
home for the Forgotten Children, it's for the forgotten
parents as  well." He smiled sadly. "We need those kids far
more than they need us,  make no mistake about that."

"That's...kind of beautiful when you think about it," Jake
said after a  moment.

"That it is, son." Lum placed a hand on Jake's shoulder and
looked him  in the eye. "You listen to me; this is the best
advice I can give a  young man such as yourself. A time may
come when you'll wonder if it was  all worth it. Your wife
may be in a foul mood and your kids may want to  make you
tear your hair out in frustration, but you cherish them, you 
hear? Even during the bad times--especially during the bad
times. One  day when your boy comes to you half-cocked and
cussing because you've  had to lay down the law for the
umpteenth time and he thinks he's grown  and that you're
just an old fool, just swallow your anger and say, 'I  love
you' because you never know when it's the last time you can
say it."

"Yes, sir," Jake said solemnly. "I promise."

"You do that and no matter what life throws at you, you'll
survive," Lum  said. "There are days when the only thing
that keeps me going is the  memory of telling all of my boys
how much I loved them before they were  taken from me." He
glanced up as the singing started in the outer  temple.
"Now, enough of this gloom and doom. We got to get you
married,  boy! You ready? No cold feet?"

"I was ready days ago," Jake said with a huge grin.

"Good, good!" Lum said then turned to Julian. "And you? Any
questions?"

"Brother Reven briefed me on what I need to say," Julian
said. "Is what  I'm wearing all right?"

"Natural fibers? And if they are, no mixed fibers?"

"Everything but my underwear," Julian said ruefully.

"You won't tell then I won't either. It's just symbolic
anyway," Lum  said with a shrug. "Don't want you rubbing
your soldier raw just for  custom's sake."

"I appreciate that," Julian said. "Well, Jake. After you."

---

Julian felt horribly self-conscious as he stood beside
Garak, listening  to Jake and Ziyal sing the last of their
vows in the bonding ritual. It  wasn't just Jake's stilting
and off-key voice either, but the looks  Garak kept throwing
his way. Since the moment he'd walked out of the  back room
with Jake trailing behind the Cardassian hadn't been able to 
keep his eyes off of him.

He shifted his stance a little and waited for the wedding to
end so he  could get out of there and burn the damn sweater
like he should have  done the minute he'd found it in his
closet. This was a mistake--a huge  mistake.

"And who stands for the clan of Sisko?" Danna asked, causing
Julian to  jump before he quickly stepped forward.

"I stand for the clan," he said, once again grateful that as
a witness  he wasn't required to sing anything.

"And who stands for the clan of Tora?

"I stand for the clan," Garak said, his face tense.

"Turn and face one another," Danna commanded.

Julian and Garak looked one another in the eye and it was
all he could  do not to fidget.

"Clan Sisko, do you take unto your clan Tora Ziyal and join
your blood  with the blood of her people without
reservation?"

"Clan Sisko finds this union worthy of the blessing of the
Prophets and  asks that Clan Tora finds our brother worthy
of their sister," Julian  said in as even a tone as he could
manage under Garak's icy stare.

"Clan Tora, do you take unto your clan Sisko Jake and join
your blood  with the blood of his people without
reservation?"

"Clan Tora finds Sisko Jake to be honorable and this union
worthy of the  blessing of the Prophets. He is our brother
as much as she is our  sister, from now until the end of our
line," Garak said, his words calm  despite the anger
reflected in his eyes.

Danna motioned for Kela to step forward. The little girl was
holding the  small wooden bowl which held the two plain
earcuffs the bridal party  would exchange. She brought the
bowl to Julian first.

"Hi, Dr. Julian," she whispered with a beaming smile.

He removed two of the three clan insignias dangling from the
earcuff  Reven had fitted him with, attaching one to each of
the cuffs in the  bowl before turning back to Garak. "I
offer your sister our name and our  shelter for as long as
she wishes.

Kela then turned to Garak with the bowl and he did the same.
"Our sister  accepts and we offer your brother our name and
our shelter for as long  as he wishes."

Garak handed the bowl to Ziyal who placed it on the altar,
then took one  of the ear cuffs and placed it on Jake's ear.
"As a symbol of our love  and the acceptance of you into our
clan, I offer you my name and my heart."

Jake smiled and reached into the bowl to do the same, gently
placing the  cuff on her ear and running his thumb along her
cheek as he said, "I  accept this symbol and offer you one
of my own. I offer you my heart and  my name and ask that
our clans be joined with the blessings of the  Prophets and
our families."

"The clans of Tora and Sisko are now and forever one," Danna
said. "One  family, one blood."

"One family, one blood," the congregation said together.

Danna smiled at the couple. "Although it is not traditional
in a Bonding  Ceremony, you may now kiss your bride."

Jake gave him a quick grin, then turned to Ziyal and kissed
her in a  manner worthy of the latest romantic tri-vid as
the entire congregation  rose to their feet and clapped.

"Now let's all retire to the community building where we'll
be serving  cakes and punch," Danna said as soon as the
couple broke apart.

Julian shook Jake's hand and hugged Ziyal, mumbling
something he hoped  was appropriate, before disappearing
into the crowd of well wishers to  make a quick getaway. He
was almost at the Infirmary when Garak's voice  stopped him
cold in his tracks.

"Why?"

Julian turned to face him. For a minute he just stood there,
a million  excuses filling his brain.

"Why didn't you just throw it in the recycler or toss it out
an  airlock?" Garak asked.

"I--" Julian licked his lips. "I nearly did. I threw
everything else out  that was left behind, but I
just...couldn't..."

"Why not?"

Julian looked up, steadying his nerves. "Because it was
obvious that you  made it."

Garak's mouth fell open slightly as his eyes widened in
surprise. "You  kept it because..."

"No one else could have made it so I knew it had to have
come from you,"  Julian said, swallowing his pride. "I
couldn't throw it away. I'm sorry.  If you want it back you
can have it--"

"No," Garak said, shaking his head. "Keep it."

"You're sure?"

"I made it for you; it's yours."

Julian felt as though he had been slammed into a brick wall.
Garak had  just said that he made it for *him*, not the
Founder.

"Really?"

"Doctor..."

"Dr. Julian!" Kela said, running up to them. "Guess what?"

Garak took a step back as Kela wrapped her arms around
Julian's legs.  Gathering his wits about him, he looked
down. "What?"

"Tomorrow there's no school so Elim's taking me and Lewin on
a picnic!  Are you going to come too?"

"No, I--"

"You should come," Garak said suddenly, then paused. "If
you're not  busy, that is."

"Are you sure?" Julian asked, looking at him in surprise.

"The children would like it, doctor," Garak said, adding,
"and so would I."

Julian felt something warm bubble up in his chest and he
smiled. "I'd  love to."

"Are you sure it wouldn't interfere with your duties?"

"Okuna can handle it. We're not getting any more of the
substance we  need for another week anyway."

"Good." Garak averted his eyes and motioned for Kela. "Let's
go get some  cake before your brother eats it all, shall
we?"

"I love cake! It's my most favorite thing in the *whole*
world--c'mon,  Dr. Julian!" Kela called out as she took
Garak's hand and pulled him  toward the Community Building.

Julian followed in silence, one corner of his mouth quirking
up as he  shook his head.

---
CHAPTER EIGHT: Domino
---

"Great," Julian said, looking at the smear of red jam on his
t-shirt.

"I think you look good in red," Kela giggled.

"Oh yeah?" He reached over to smear some of it on her nose.
"So do you!"

"You're silly!"

"Not as silly as you are."

He looked up at the riding hound who had followed them into
the field and who was now running around in a figure-eight
pattern chasing a butterfly. His tail whipped behind him,
and in that moment he looked less like an iguana and more
like some silly dragon out of a children's book. "And not as
silly as that great beast of yours!" he said. "Are you sure
it's all right to have him outside of his pen?"

"He wanders here and there during the day," Garak said,
glancing up at the hound's antics. "As long as he doesn't
disturb the livestock or get into mischief he's fine. The
monastery's lands are fenced so he can't get out and scare
any of the locals. Most of them know who he belongs to
anyway."

"I guess he would attract a lot of attention. There can't be
many Cardassian riding hounds left on Bajor after the
Occupation."

"That and a lot of parents have been bringing their children
out to see him," Garak said. "I was surprised at first by
how open the adults were to the idea of showing their
children an animal that was such a symbol of their
oppressors, but Brother Reven explained that most feel the
hound is just what he is: a beautiful and gentle beast.
Where he comes from or how he came to be here isn't all that
relevant to them once they see the joy he inspires in the
faces of their children. Other than some herd beasts, this
hound is the largest creature most of these children have
ever seen up close. He's actually been something of a boon
to the monastery." Garak turned his gaze away from the beast
and toward him. "Donations are up, and when people come to
visit they generally don't leave empty-handed. He's sold so
many bottles of wine and preserves, Sister Hara keeps saying
we should put his picture on the label."

"Don't tell Quark or he'll start a riding hound petting zoo
on the promenade," Julian said with a crooked grin.

Pika, sensing he was the center of attention, plopped down
near them, then rolled over to sun his underbelly. Julian
reached out and petted his chin, smiling as the lizard-like
beast growled in pleasure. "I can't believe he was found in
the wild," he said. "Like you said, he's so gentle and tame.
I'd always heard that they could be rather dangerous."

"Most of the stories you heard were probably exaggerated or
simply made up," Garak replied. "I'm not saying they can't
be dangerous; they can. They're large animals with teeth and
a strong survival instinct and they have been known to
attack and even kill if hungry or hurt. Some Cardassians
even preferred to keep their hounds dangerous and
unpredictable by making sure they were always kept a bit on
the hungry side. They say it keeps them motivated but, in my
opinion, that's an incredibly reckless practice."

"You're right."

Garak shook his head. "I never understood why anyone would
want to mount an animal they knew they couldn't trust. For
the most part, though, when they're well fed and treated
gently hounds are rather docile in nature." He handed Lewin
another sandwich. "Except, of course, unless they're in
season or you're trying to break one for riding. They don't
mind being petted and loved, but try to get on their back
and you'll have a sore behind until they decide otherwise."

"You rode one before?" Lewin asked wide-eyed.

Garak nodded. "My master Tain kept them, and when I was
about Kela's age I had the dubious honor of riding an
unbroken hound. I broke my ankle but I still managed to walk
all the way home afterward."

"That must have hurt," Kela said, caught up in the story.
"Was your hound as big as Pika?"

"Bigger," Garak said. "And a miserable animal. I hated that
hound. He was Tain's favorite, though why I have no clue.
The beast never did break but he was a good sire and
fathered many a clutch of pups for his stables. I had my own
hound later, a bitch named Oomah. I didn't like to ride her
though, I just liked to groom her and take her on long walks
around the property."

"What happened to her?" Kela asked.

"Tain sold her. He said that it was a waste to keep an
animal like that around if she wasn't being ridden
regularly." Garak's expression didn't change, but Julian
could almost hear the pain hidden within the memory.

"You must have been very sad," Lewin said softly.

"Not at all," Garak said in a lighter tone. "He was right
and, besides, I hated to ride. Even with a saddle it's
always a rather uncomfortable experience. Personally I'd
rather just take a hover transport and save myself the
bruises."

Kela cuddled closer to Pika and scratched his ear. "Was your
hound nice?"

"Very nice and very gentle," he said, cutting her a slice of
fruit and handing it to her. "She loved being fed slices of
fresh fruit and having her mane brushed and braided."

"When Pika's mane gets really long I'm going to brush it
every day that and put ribbons in his hair, too!" Kela said
as she licked the juice off her fingers and grinned from ear
to ear.

"That's stupid! Pika's a boy--you don't put ribbons on a
boy!" Lewin snorted.

"Garak said he did it to his hound!"

"Yeah, and his hound was a *girl*." Lewin rolled his eyes.

"So?" Kela scowled. "Boys can be pretty too!"

"No they can't!"

"Yes they can!"

"Children--" Garak said in a warning tone.

"I have a question," Julian asked, trying to defuse the
situation before Lewin and Kela's argument escalated. "Why
do they blind them after they're broken if they're so
docile?"

The children both looked at him in horror and Julian winced,
knowing he just put his foot in his mouth yet again.

Kela gasped. "They don't really do that, do they?"

"We're not going to do that to Pika, are we?" Lewin asked
anxiously.

"No," Garak said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Sorry," Julian muttered with a wince.

"No need. It was a legitimate question, doctor, and the
children should know just in case someone else ever asks."
He turned to Lewin and Kela. "The hounds on Cardassia are
sometimes blinded because there is very little water or
natural game left. The riding hounds there are kept as
pleasure animals only, but they still have a hunter's
instinct. If they see a vole or some other potential game,
or if they see a watering hole and are thirsty, they might
try to buck their rider off, so it became common practice to
blind them and dull their senses by cauterizing their
olfactory receptors. Pika is not going to be broken for
riding; he's a pet only. That's why the monks are so adamant
when they tell all of you children not to try to ride him.
You could get hurt and if that happened Pika would have to
leave."

"Oh," Kela said, her tiny hand rubbing gentle circles onto
the huge animal's snout. The hound opened its mouth and let
its tongue hang out clownishly as she bent her head closer
to his ear. "I promise I won't ever try to ride you anymore,
okay?"

"Me neither," Lewin promised Garak. "And I promise to tell
the other kids not to try anymore as well."

"Good man!" Garak said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Lewin
flushed with pleasure at the compliment and smiled broadly.

Kela scratched Pika's mane. "I can't wait for your hair to
get really long so I can make you look pretty no matter what
Lewin says." The hound plopped to his side and nuzzled her
hand then stared longingly at her sandwich.

"I don't care," Lewin said, pulling a face in her direction.
"You gave him a stupid girl's name anyway. You might as well
put bows and stuff in his hair and finish the job."

"Pika is a nice name," Kela said as she petted the
pony-sized canine. "You're a pretty boy, aren't you!"

Lewin rolled his eyes. "I give up."

Pika opened his large maw and yawned, then pawed the ground
and gazed longingly toward the aguaba fruit Garak was
peeling.

"I swear, that animal is utterly useless as anything but a
recycler and a fertilizer source. Here!" Garak said, tossing
him a piece of fruit which he snapped up in mid-air and
swallowed in one bite.

"He's just hungry," Kela argued.

"He's always hungry," Lewin scoffed. He turned to Garak.
"Can we go swimming now? I'm done."

"Fine. Give the recycler over there your scraps and don't go
too deep."

"I won't. It's not that deep anyway," Lewin said, scraping
his plate off in front of Pika before jumping up and heading
for the water. The hound rolled over and began to make short
work of the scraps.

"Can I go too?" Kela asked.

"Only if you stay by your brother," Garak said with a nod.

"C'mon Pika!" she cried, running after Lewin.

The hound finished gobbling up the leftovers then looked at
Garak.

"That's all you're getting from me so you may as well go,"
he told the animal.

The hound sniffed the ground one last time, then got up to
lumber towards the children who were now splashing in the
small pond.

Julian handed Garak the children's plates to put in the
basket and began to pack up the food. He glanced up at the
clear, green sky. "Pretty day today."

Garak looked up as well. "Yes. It's supposed to rain later
in the week, though. Good for the crops but the sun is a
welcome relief after all the overcast weather we've had
lately." Julian snickered a little and Garak looked at him
curiously. "Did I say something funny?"

"We're actually talking about the weather--the weather,"
Julian said, shaking his head.

Garak shrugged. "It's a perfectly legitimate conversational
topic."

Julian sat back on his heels. "Garak, I didn't come here to
talk about the weather. I came here to talk to you."

"You are talking to me."

Julian raised his eyebrows and shot him a look. "Please."

"We were just talking to the children."

"Right. We spent the entire morning talking to *the
children*. Occasionally we managed to exchange information
with each other but that's hardly the same thing as having a
conversation."

Garak put the last of the leftovers in the basket and
glanced up at him. "You...may have a point."

"Why is it so hard for us to just be...I don't
know--ourselves, again?" Julian asked. "I don't know about
you but this is the most nerve wracking picnic I've ever
been on." He paused. "Not that I've been on a lot of picnics
before; that is unless away missions and boot camp count."

"I don't think they do," Garak said with a slight smile.
"I'll admit that eating outdoors used to be a necessity
rather than a pleasure once upon a time, but the children
seem to like it."

"You're very good with them. I meant to tell you that
earlier but I didn't get a chance to. Lewin thinks the world
of you, that's obvious."

"I think the world of him--both of them."

Julian looked over at the children who were splashing one
another and at the hound who was wading in and lapping at
the water at the same time. "They are something else, aren't
they? I guess if there was something positive to come from
this whole experience..." He looked at Garak. "I never
thought about it but I guess if I hadn't been kidnapped, you
never would have met them."

"Life is funny that way," Garak said in a subdued tone as he
folded the napkins and laid them on top of the food in the
basket. "If my replicator hadn't been offline, the Founder
probably never would have made contact with me and none of
this would have happened."

"It was a lucky break for me," Julian said. "Otherwise I
would still be in that damned prison with Martok and Bajor
wouldn't be here any more."

Garak nodded slightly, his eyes shadowed. "I try to keep
that in mind, though I would rather...well." He got to his
feet. "What's done is done. Would you like to go sit in the
shade, doctor? The children will want to play for a while
and although I'm enjoying the sun it is rather bright."

"Of course." Julian gathered up the blanket and followed
Garak to a nearby aguaba tree. He set the blanket at the
base of the huge trunk and gestured for Garak to sit.

"Thank you," Garak said, settling his back against the tree
so he could watch the children comfortably.

Julian sat down beside him, close but not too close, and
thought about what to say next. Finally, he spoke. "I
thought about debating that last book you loaned me before
this all happened but to tell you the truth, debating
literature doesn't really seem that appealing to me anymore.
In fact, I stayed up half the night trying to plan out our
conversation."

"It's difficult to pretend that this is the Replimat and
everything is as it used to be," Garak said in agreement.
"The normal rules of engagement don't seem to apply
anymore."

He nodded. "Before, arguing with you was fun, now just the
idea of it is exhausting. We argued a lot, didn't we?" he
said, thinking back on their relationship. "Politics, books,
philosophy...I guess we're not those people anymore."

"We never were those people, doctor." Garak pointed out. "We
were merely playing roles we had created for ourselves by
mutual, if unspoken, agreement."

Julian glanced at him but the words had been said honestly
and without any anger behind them. "Garak, I--"

"No more apologies," Garak said, still watching the children
as they played. "I'm as weary of them as you are of
arguing."

"Well. That narrows the topics of conversation even
further," Julian muttered and leaned back as well. "So..."

"So."

"Did you know that the skies on Earth are blue?"

Garak's mouth twitched and he looked at him, his eyes
sparkling. "So I had heard."

"Green is nice, though," Julian said, looking up. "More
blue-green than green."

"I had a bolt of cloth that color once."

"You don't say?"

"Hmm."

"Quite."

That sat in silence for a minute before they both began to
chuckle. "This is--incredibly awkward. Is it just me or do
you feel like a complete idiot?" Julian said at last.

"I certainly do," Garak said, shaking his head.

"We've known one another for five years," Julian said. "Five
years--"

"Almost six."

"Almost six," he repeated. "Why do I feel like I'm on a
blind date?"

Garak looked at him, his eyeridges raised in surprise.
"We're on a date?"

"Well..." Julian cleared his throat and concentrated hard on
looking at the children. "If you want to say we are then I
wouldn't have any objections to...you know, calling it
a...date. I suppose."

Garak merely smiled ironically and shook his head. "Human
courtship practices really are rather odd."

Julian looked at him in surprise. "You think so?"

Garak nodded. "I do."

"So, does that mean you would?"

"Would what?"

Julian licked his lips, "Would call this a date."

Garak didn't say anything for a long, nerve-racking moment.
"Do you really want to pursue this, doctor?"

Julian met the other man's eyes. "I do."

Garak's expression was very subdued. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes: why?"

"You know, it's very annoying the way you do that," Julian
said in consternation.

"Do what?" Garak asked.

"Cause my brain to completely and utterly shut down with
very little visible effort on your part," he replied. "It's
unbelievably damaging to my ego."

"I apologize," Garak said easily, not looking the least bit
apologetic.

"Besides, technically you invited me so this would count as
a Cardassian courtship ritual, not a human one. I'm just
waiting for you to begin so that I can perhaps take some
wisdom from your allegedly superior technique," Julian said,
clearing his throat and leaning back with a smug expression.

"I did not," Garak said defensively.

"You invited me," Julian insisted, "and you pretty much
conceded just a few moments ago that this was a potentially
romantic situation."

"Kela invited you; I was merely making a friendly overture
by--" Garak pursed his lips. "I refuse to be placed in this
situation, doctor. As far as I'm concerned, this is merely a
day out with the children. I had no other agenda in mind, I
assure you."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"No agenda at all?"

"None."

"And you find me completely unattractive."

"I do."

"So how exactly do you explain your attraction for my
counterpart then?"

Garak opened his mouth then shut it again quickly.
"Well...he--he pursued me, I merely responded. I assure you
I made no overtures toward him-you--" Garak grimaced. "You
know what I mean."

"I see." Julian narrowed his eyes at his companion. "I've
just had an epiphany, Garak."

"In regards to what, pray tell?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You," Julian said. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"How personal?"

"Very."

Garak regarded him suspiciously. "Go ahead."

"You prefer to be pursued rather than do the actual
pursuing, don't you?"

"I never really thought about it actually."

"Bullshit!" Julian said with a snort.

"I haven't, and frankly it would be a gross presumption on
your part to argue any differently," Garak retorted. "The
incident you are referring to was a one time--I don't know
what you'd call it--an anomaly. It was an anomaly; one that
shall never be repeated, I assure you."

"That's crap. I know when you're lying, Garak! I've had
years of practice." He pointed at Garak. "You, sir, are the
spider who likes to wait for the fly to just stumble into
his parlor. I'm right, aren't I?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Garak said,
looking back toward where the children were playing. "All I
can say, doctor, is that this sudden foray into the world of
insects and their entertainment practices is a very clumsy
seduction indeed if that is in fact what you are attempting
to try with this ridiculous discourse."

Julian laughed. "No, no--I've finally got you, Garak. Now I
understand why we danced around one another for five years
when it took my doppelganger less than a week. You were
playing it safe. You just wanted me to make the first move
so you could sit back and control the action like some
damned puppet master pulling at the strings!"

"That's not true!" Garak scowled at him.

"It is! You were playing hard to get for five years and I
was just too dumb to realize that's what it was. I don't
know how I missed it. Lord knows enough women have tried it
on me through the years." He shook his head ruefully. "I
suppose I thought that if we ever did come to an
understanding it would be on an even playing field, man to
man. I just never had the imagination it would have taken to
realize that you were attempting to play the role of
coquette to my lothario."

"Please, don't try to lump me in the same category as the
witless masses of dabo girls and assorted cosmetically
augmented females you have bedded in the past," Garak said
coolly.

"Give it up, Garak; you're caught out." Julian grinned and
leaned back against the tree trunk. "Damned if that doesn't
make me feel better. Here I thought I was defective or
something and it turns out I wasn't the only one with a
paralyzing fear of intimacy. In fact, you're worse off than
I am."

"Perhaps we should go back to discussing the weather,
doctor," Garak said, folding his arms across his chest and
staring determinedly towards the pond.

"You know what, I'm not going to do this anymore," Julian
said, smiling at him triumphantly. "No more 'Julian the
idiot' moments for me. If *you* want *me*, then *you* get to
make the first move."

"And what makes you think I want you?" Garak asked with a
raised eyeridge.

"Oh, you want me."

"You really are an arrogant ass," Garak said, staring at him
in open amazement.

He grinned. "You want me, Garak. You want me bad."

Garak made a disgusted sound deep in his throat. "Just--go
sit over there somewhere."

Julian leaned in closer and said in a low voice, "In fact,
if I were to just," and he dipped his head so his mouth was
near Garak's ear, "lean over and kiss you right now you'd be
putty in my hands."

"Oh really?"

"But I won't." Julian said, leaning back. "You want me?
You'll have to come and get me. After all, it's only fair."

"Fair?"

"I came all the way down to Bajor; the least you could do is
meet me halfway."

"You were transferred down here after being suspended."
Garak said. "You didn't choose anything."

Julian paused. "That's beside the point."

Garak shook his head. "You're delusional."

"And you're just being evasive."

"Evasive?" Garak said with a scowl.

"I think this will be a good experience for you, Garak,"
Julian said confidently as he sat back again. "You need to
be in the hot seat for a while. I think I'm going to enjoy
being the object of your attentions for once."

"It will never happen."

"I can wait."

"Then you'll be waiting for a very long time," Garak said
dryly.

"So, you really don't find me the least bit attractive
then?"

"I do not."

"Liar."

"Doctor Bashir. I--"

As Garak turned to look at him, Julian reached out and
stroked his cheek with one finger, dipping his head so their
lips were nearly touching. "Yes, Garak?"

Garak's eyes widened slightly, obviously stunned into
silence. They just stared at one another. Time seemed to
stop.

"You asked me why I wanted this," Julian said in a near
whisper. "The truth is, I don't know why. All I know is that
you and I are meant to be together. Every major milestone
I've come to in the last several years centered somehow
around you. Knowing you has both changed the course of my
life and enriched it. When I was alone on the station and
you were down here, I was so bloody miserable the only thing
that kept me going was rubbing those damned pips of yours."
His chuckle was a low rumble that came from somewhere deep
inside. "I carried them around like a worry-stone and
obsessed over you. Being angry at you was the only way I
could keep myself from jumping out of an airlock some days.
I even stopped eating in the damn Replimat because all I
could think about was you: about your voice, about how you
must taste first thing in the morning." His voice lowered
and his words took on a seductive timbre. "Thinking of that
Founder touching you while wearing my face about damn near
killed me, Garak, and not because I cared about what other
people must have thought. It should have been me in your
bed, not him, and it shouldn't have taken me five years to
get there. You have no idea how much I tortured myself
thinking about that--none." His tone roughened as he drew
even closer, his lips lightly touching Garak's as he spoke.
It wasn't the same as a kiss; it was oh so much more
intimate than that because the words he used were a
seduction far deeper than the mere touch of flesh to flesh.
"We've spent five and a half years fighting this and I'm too
tired--too damned tired to keep up the charade any longer.
Aren't you? Aren't you ready to just give up this stupid
battle we've both been waging against ourselves? What's the
point of it anymore? God knows, we both deserve some peace."

Garak took a breath and Julian could feel the air being
displaced as the other man's mouth opened. His eyes drifted
shut...

"Elim! Dr. Julian!"

They drew apart quickly, reality crashing down on them as
Kela ran toward them, obviously upset.

"What is it?" Garak asked, both of them jumping to their
feet.

"Lewin's sick!"

Julian looked over toward the pond where the boy was
crawling on his hands and knees, obviously in distress. He
broke into a run with Garak following.

"Lewin--what's wrong?" he asked, kneeling down and placing
his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Lewin made a strangled noise then began to vomit. Julian
held his shoulders until his stomach was empty and the dry
heaves had stopped. "Kela," he said turning to the little
girl, "go get a bottle of water from the basket and bring it
to me."

"Is it the virus?" Garak asked quietly as Julian helped
Lewin sit up and felt his pulse.

"Probably," he said, feeling the back of the boy's neck. He
had a fever. "How do you feel? Any pain?"

"Stomach hurts--I don't feel good." Lewin moaned, clutching
his abdomen.

"I imagine so." Julian said, keeping his tone light. "I
think we should get on back to the Infirmary, don't you?
We'll get you something for your stomach and fix you right
up."

"I got some water like you told me to," Kela cried. "Is
Lewin gonna die?"

"No," Garak said as he knelt down and put his hand on her
shoulder comfortingly. "He's just had a little stomach
upset, that's all."

Julian handed the water to Lewin. "Little sips--don't gulp.
Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?"

"I-I think I can--" Lewin doubled back over in pain and
clutched his stomach.

"All right then, here we go," he said, lifting the boy into
his arms. Lewin wrapped his arms around his neck and buried
his face into Julian's throat with a groan. "I'll meet you
and Kela there," he said to Garak.

Garak nodded to Julian as he herded the girl toward their
picnic site. "Kela, let's go get the basket, then I want you
to put Pika back in his pen for me, all right?"

Julian shifted the boy in his arms and made comforting
noises to him as he made his way back toward the Infirmary.
As soon as he had topped the hill, though, he could tell
something was wrong. There was a flurry of activity as
people ran back and forth between the buildings. Brother
Reven looked up, saw Julian carrying the boy, and hurried
over.

"Is he all right?" the monk asked in concern.

"He's sick. What's happening?" Julian asked.

"We don't know," Reven said, his tone slightly panicked.
"About an hour ago Danna started throwing up. I took him to
the medical tent and Ziyal was already there - Brother Lum
said she'd passed out. We've got all the worst cases in
there now, but I don't know how long the rest of us are
going to hold out."

Julian hurried over to the tent, Reven following.

"Oh thank God!" Perreira said as soon as Julian walked
through the door. He and Okuna were directing the patients
to the beds while Krath was doing his best to help despite
obviously being ill as well. "What the hell is going on
here?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," Julian said
grimly, settling Lewin on a cot and examining his pupils
again.

"My stomach hurts bad," Lewin whined, near tears.

"I know, buddy," Julian said in a low voice. "We're going to
try to make that stop soon. You trust me, right?"

"Uh huh."

"How is he?" Okuna asked, coming over to hand Julian a
tricorder.

Julian scanned him quickly. "He already has a high fever and
it looks like it's going to spike. Perreira, I need a hypo
with 10 milligrams of meridanol and another five of
amalinol." He looked around. "Where's Girani?"

"She's putting Ziyal in stasis," Okuna replied as Perreira
rushed off to get the meds. "Ziyal collapsed and then all
hell broke loose. She's in a coma."

"God damn it," Julian muttered darkly. "Okay, as soon as
Garak gets here have him help you with triage. Girani's in
the scanning area, right?"

Okuna nodded. "We figured it probably wasn't food poisoning
since everyone went down at almost the exact same time."

"Probably a safe bet."

"Here's your hypo," Perreira said, handing it to Julian.
"Dr. Okuna, I need you to look at the patient in cot six."

"I have things in hand here," Julian said. "Go."

Okuna nodded and moved off to check the other patient in
distress. Julian knelt down and injected Lewin with the
hypo. "Now, this will help settle your stomach and bring
down your fever. You might feel a little strange because
it's going to make you a bit sleepy. Don't fight it; just
close your eyes and rest, okay?"

"I'm scared," Lewin said, tears winding their way down his
cheeks.

Julian felt his stomach clench as a strange feeling of
helplessness came over him. "Everything is going to be all
right, I promise."

"If anything happens you'll take care of Kela, right? You'll
make sure she doesn't get sick, too," Lewin asked. "She's
just a b-baby." He winced again and rolled onto his side,
curling up in a fetal position.

"Just relax and let the medicine do its job," Julian said,
rubbing his back and leaning closer.

"She can be annoying but she doesn't mean it. It's just that
she doesn't know any better," Lewin said as his muscles
began to relax. His eyelids began to droop within seconds
and his words became slightly slurred. "If something happens
to me and Elim, will you make sure she isn't left all alone?
Please?"

"As long as I'm alive neither you nor Kela will ever have to
worry about being left alone," Julian said, fighting against
the lump that was forming in his throat.

"I'm tired," Lewin muttered as he began to drift.

"Just sleep. Elim will be here soon."

Julian ran his hand over the boy's thick hair and watched as
he fell under, then glanced over at the entrance to the
scanning room. He needed to go, but--

God, he had never felt this damn useless in his life.

His feet felt frozen to the floor as he stared down at the
small boy lying in the cot. He was surrounded by sick people
that needed him, but the only one he could focus on was
Lewin. The logical part of his brain shouted at him that the
boy was out and wouldn't know if he were left alone, but
something deeper than that held him steadfastly to the boy's
side.

"I'll watch him for you," Brother Lum said, coming up from
behind him.

"Thank you." Julian said, trying to shake off the whirlpool
of emotions threatening to overwhelm him as he stood up.

"It's different when it's your own child, isn't it?" Lum
said with a knowing look. "Go do your job. I won't leave the
boy, I promise."

"I--" Julian almost pointed out that Lewin was just his
patient, not his child, but instead he found himself merely
nodding gratefully before heading to the back of the tent.
When he entered the room, Girani was adjusting the controls
on the biofield as Jake watched nervously from the corner.

"I don't know what's happening," she said, glancing at him.
"Her scans were all fine this morning."

"Have you had a chance to scan her again yet?"

"No." Girani stepped aside as Julian wheeled over the
neuroscanner, helping him ready the machine.

When the first pictures appeared they both gasped.

"What the--" Girani started.

Jake rushed out of the corner. "What? What's happening? Is
it the virus? What?"

"It's mutated again? But it was dead--we saw it!" Girani
insisted.

"It wasn't dead," Julian said grimly as he magnified the
image.

The small monster they had thought was dead and buried had
clawed its way out of the grave with a vengeance. Pulsating
with raw, crimson energy, the virus had more than just
adapted; it had gone through a complete metamorphosis.

"Did you take a blood sample before putting her in stasis?"
Julian asked.

"Yes," Girani said, handing him a slide.

Julian took it over to the powerful electron microscope
Krath had given them and looked closely at the resilient
little nanovirus.

My God, Julian thought as he stared down at it: the bastard
who created it wasn't just a genius, he was a true
sociopath.

Ripples of energy pulsated through the virions as they
divided at an exponential rate. There was no subtlety to its
design any more; it was merely a killer tearing through
anything that got in its way. Julian shut his eyes and
leaned his head against the cool metal of the microscope as
he tried to think. It had been a trap, he realized with sick
certainty. In his eagerness to rid Ziyal of her illness he
had jumped at the first opening he had found and
administered the White-based drug, and by doing so had
fallen right into the bastard's trap.

He got up from the desk and went back to the neuroscanner,
setting it for maximum magnification, Girani behind him
attempting to calm Jake down. He blocked the sounds of their
voices and concentrated all his energy on what he was
seeing.

Focus, Julian told himself - and then there was no sound, no
room, no Ziyal or Jake or Girani. It was just him and the
virus.

The running data stream beside the image seemed like a flash
of undulating gold as the computer attempted to keep up with
the information it was receiving from the tiny fractals. The
virions were communicating with one another, Julian
realized. No longer acting like just another virus, it was
now behaving more like a tiny Borg collective. He reached
for his tricorder and scanned Ziyal through the stasis
field.

"What is it?" Girani asked.

"Have Perreira bring in Lewin."

A few minutes later Lewin, still unconscious from the hypo,
was laid down in the biobed near Ziyal's stasis cocoon. When
the scan was complete the images that came back merely
confirmed what Julian had already guessed.

"What's the situation outside?" he asked.

"We have things under control for now," Perreira said. "All
of the hybrids are down and several of the pure-blooded
Bajorans are exhibiting severe symptoms. The ones who aren't
as ill are helping. We've sedated the ones stricken the
worst and we've given the rest hypos for their fever and
nausea."

Julian nodded. "How's Krath?"

"Hanging in there," Perreira said. "He was one of the first
to exhibit abdominal pain and fever but he refused to stay
in bed until he had no other choice. Okuna just gave him a
hypo for the fever and sedated him. He's sleeping
comfortably now." He paused. "Doctor, Garak wanted me to ask
you if he could come in. He wants to sit with Lewin while
you examine him if that's all right."

"Send him in." Perreira left and Julian turned to Girani.
"How's Ziyal?"

"She's stabilized; the stasis is holding."

"Go see if Perreira and Okuna need help then start taking
blood samples from everyone--and I mean everyone."

"Got it."

Julian looked up at her. "How are you feeling?"

Girani avoided looking at him directly. "I'll make it."

"Not good enough," Julian said.

"My temp is up and I'm feeling a little nauseated but I can
handle it," she said firmly.

"Have Okuna check you out and give you something for the
symptoms," he ordered. "I need you on the floor, but if you
start to get worse I need you to know when to stop. I know
you're a work horse, Girani, but I can't risk having you
fall down during a procedure. If you feel faint, take
yourself out of the game, understood?"

"I took a hypo earlier. I should be okay."

"The second it gets bad, Girani--I want your word or I
relieve you now."

She nodded.

"Go."

She headed out the door and Julian turned to Jake. "Jake--"

"I'm not leaving Ziyal," he said stubbornly.

"Jake, I know you want to stay by her side, but I need your
help--Ziyal needs your help," Julian said evenly. "Most of
the Bajorans are down and that only leaves you, me, Okuna,
Perreira, and Garak who are immune. I need you to help them
out on the floor."

Jake rubbed his hand across his mouth and looked down at his
wife. "You'll let me know if she gets worse, right?"

"I promise."

He shuffled his feet slightly, still obviously reluctant to
leave her side. "I don't have any medical training."

"Okuna and Perreira will show you what to do." Julian said
just as the door opened again and Garak stepped through.
"Even if all you do is change sheets and replicate broth,
that will help."

"Okay, I--I'll do what I can." Jake leaned over and looked
through the field into Ziyal's too-still face. "I love you,
Zee. I'll be back soon."

Garak laid a hand on Jake's shoulder as the young man passed
him and squeezed it reassuringly. Jake looked at him then
back at Julian and left.

"How is he?" Garak asked, moving to stand beside Lewin who
was still unconscious and lying under the neuroscanner.

"I don't know," Julian said wearily.

Garak turned on him. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"Damn it, I mean I don't know!" he snapped back, allowing
his frustration to show for the first time since he arrived
on the scene. "I've been here as long as you have and I
just--" Julian rubbed his eyes and winced as his temples
began to throb. "All I have are--suppositions and theories
at this point."

Garak's jaw unclenched and he seemed to take a moment to get
his anger under control before focusing back on Julian.
"Talk it through with me then. What do you think is
happening?"

"What do I think?" Julian typed a command into the scanner
and brought up the images of Ziyal's most recent scans. He
isolated the different images and compared them side by
side. "This," he said as he pointed to the first image, "is
the original virus. This is the virus after she was
administered the vaccine. This," and he pointed to a third
image which was radically different from the other two, "is
what we saw when we scanned her after she lapsed into a
coma."

Garak frowned. "It appears to have undergone a metamorphosis
of some sort."

"Exactly," Julian said. "My theory, if it can even be called
that, is that when we administered the drug, instead of
killing the virus like we assumed it would, it merely caused
the virus to go dormant until it reemerged as this new
virus."

"Whoever our mysterious adversaries are they're brilliant,
I'll give them that," Garak said. "Make it so the virus only
causes minor irritations and symptoms which gradually worsen
over time until some clever doctor finds it and figures out
what it is. The second the correct chemical is introduced,
the trap is sprung."

"I should have known better," Julian said, gritting his
teeth. "I should have seen it coming!"

"How could you have?" Garak said grimly.

"I don't know." He looked down at Lewin and smoothed his
hair. "I was too damned rushed, too arrogant, and now
they're paying for it."

"Blaming yourself will get us nowhere," Garak said, looking
down at the boy as well. He glanced up at Julian with a
frown. "I understand why Ziyal is ill, but why Lewin and the
rest? Only Ziyal received the vaccine."

Julian thought about that for a moment. "We know that the
nanovirus is based partly on Borg biotechnology. The Borg
communicate as a collective by receiving electrical impulses
through a cranial transceiver."

"If we subjected the virus to some sort of EM field,
would--"

"No," Julian said, cutting him off and typing a command into
the scanner. "That's not what's happening here. If I'm
right, though, even though the virus was dormant it was
still able to be passed on. The dormant viruses would
activate, seek out any earlier incarnations of itself, and
signal the other virions to go into a dormant state as well.
Why the Bajoran and hybrid immune systems didn't catch the
dormant virions I don't know, but I do know that Lewin has
the exact same virus as Ziyal--the new virus. I suspect they
all do."

"A domino effect," Garak interjected.

"Exactly."

The screen above Lewin's bed flashed with golden streams of
information as he showed Garak what was happening inside his
son's body. "See? They're definitely making a coordinated
attack. This damn thing is a powerhouse. Lewin is young and
healthy; that's a plus, but the way this is going through
his system..." He sighed.

"Can you reverse the damage if we find a cure?"

"Right now? Yes. Later? I don't know. Science can only do so
much. At this rate Lewin has perhaps two weeks before his
system is permanently compromised. Ziyal is already in a
coma and her viral load is enormous. Even if we found the
cure within the next day her immune system will never be the
same again. She'll need multiple organ transplants to start
with and we can't do that while she's pregnant. The only
reason we aren't discussing termination is because the baby
is infected as well and we can't risk unleashing the human
strain of the virus." He laid his hand on Lewin's forehead
and gazed down at the sleeping boy. "I'm out of ideas,
Garak. Girani is infected and there are sixty-four patients
and only three doctors left once she goes down. Despite the
new equipment we're understaffed and underequipped and out
of time. We can keep Ziyal stable in stasis for two, maybe
three days if we're lucky. Within a week or two, all of them
are going to be in comas: then what?"

"Call Shakaar," Garak said. "Ask him to contact Starfleet
and request emergency medical assistance. "Humans aren't
affected by this, at least not yet. Have them come down in
protective suits if that's what it takes."

Julian nodded as he walked over to the comm unit at the
small desk and waited for it to connect. "Shakaar."

//Dr. Bashir. How can I help you?//

"There's been a serious development here."

Julian gave Shakaar a quick rundown of all the facts. When
he was done he said, "We need you to ask Starfleet to send a
medical team to assist us before this thing starts killing
people."

Shakaar's expression was grim. //I'm afraid I can't do that,
doctor.//

"Why not?" Julian asked with a scowl.

//The head of the conservative opposition has called an
emergency Senate vote on whether or not Bajor should break
off talks with the Federation and demand that they abandon
Deep Space Nine.//

"That's ridiculous! That will leave the Alpha Quadrant wide
open to Dominion attack!"

//Representative Kresti and his party are arguing that the
Dominion only targeted Bajor because of our relationship
with the Federation,// Shakaar said wearily. //Their
position is that if we cut ties now and send our own
representatives to discuss a treaty with the Dominion, our
people will be safe from attack. The evangelicals are
jumping on board as well. After Minister Krath informed me
that the virus had already spread beyond the monastery,
several clinics and hospitals began to send in reports that
they had treated patients exhibiting its symptoms. Someone
leaked it to the Bajoran press and they posted it this
morning. The radicals within the Bajora Communion are
claiming this is a sign that the Eagle Prophesy is coming to
pass, especially as it is affecting the hybrid population
and those working closest to them first.//

"The what?"

Garak, who had moved away from Lewin's biobed to listen to
their conversation, stepped forward and spoke into the
monitor. "Admittedly, I am still just a penitent of the
faith, but I was under the impression that Kai Kavus had
denounced the Eagle Prophesy and the Court of Valaria
ordered that it stop being cited because it had never been
substantiated as a legitimate religious text."

//He did, and while I'm here preparing my arguments before
the Senate, Vedek Merel is petitioning the High Council to
reconvene the Court of Valaria so they can settle this once
and for all and silence the evangelicals, otherwise...//
Shakaar sighed. //This thing is turning into a huge mess.
Major Kira just commed me and said some of the more radical
conservatives are starting to protest on the Promenade
again. Tensions are already high up there--and now this?
Next there will be more rioting and this time it will be on
a much larger scale than just a few drunks tossing their
glasses at storefronts.//

"I didn't realize the situation on Deep Space Nine was that
bad," Julian said.

//I understand it didn't get to this point until after your
colleagues were forced to leave, but yes, it's rather tense
up there. If Captain Sisko doesn't return soon and lend his
voice as Emissary to mine, Representative Kresti may have
his way.//

"I'm sure the more vocal conservatives are seeing his
current absence as a happy coincidence," Julian said with a
scowl. "In fact, I imagine that Kai Winn is defending the
prophesy at the top of her lungs if it means seeing the back
of Captain Sisko and the rest of us."

//Actually, no,// Shakaar said. //For once Merel and Winn
are on the same side. The Kai, despite her feelings toward
the Emissary, is openly chastising the members of her order
who are spreading this prophesy around as though it were a
call to arms.//

"Politics aside, we desperately need help, First Minister,"
Garak told him. "This is a matter of most urgency."

//I understand that but officially I can't make the request.
My party would have my head right now if I did. I suspect
Representative Kresti and his ilk would see it as grounds to
start impeachment proceedings against me. However, if one of
you bypassed channels and made the request yourselves, it
would be out of my hands.//

"Understood," Garak said reluctantly.

//Good luck.//

Garak switched off the monitor and turned to Julian. "Can
you call in any favors with Starfleet Medical?"

"I can try," Julian said. "What is this 'Eagle Prophesy'
anyway?"

"The Eagle Prophesy is from a text called 'The Eaglet Orb'
that was written by Zocol. It's always been rather
controversial because even though it was deemed
unsubstantiated by the Court of Valaria, many have argued
that it foretold the Cardassian Invasion, proving its
legitimacy. In it the noble white eagle that protects the
skies of Bajor is attacked by a red eagle. The battle lasts
for many days and nights, during which the red eagle lays a
black egg. From it hatches a great pestilence that sweeps
throughout the land. The birds struggle for control as the
land is consumed by death. They battle and fall and from
their remains a third bird appears, which is made of fire.
Supposedly his war cry will summon forth an Emissary to
cleanse Bajor. Poetic nonsense at best, divisive twaddle at
worst. Every so often the passage is brought up and
manipulated by someone with an agenda."

"So why is Winn siding with Merel on this? For that matter,
why isn't she leading the battle cry?" Julian asked. "She's
no fan of the Federation and I imagine she feels the same
about the hybrids."

"I don't know," Garak said. "and as fascinating as exploring
those questions may be, we need to leave them for Shakaar
and Merel to deal with. Right now we need help and fast."

"I'll comm Admiral Quinn now," Julian said. "I don't know if
she'll honor the request given the state of the Federation's
diplomatic relations with Bajor right now but it's our only
chance."

"We can at least try. I'll continue helping outside. As soon
as you're finished examining Lewin I'll have Minister Krath
sent in, then Brother Danna."

"Good."

Garak walked over to Lewin's bedside and kissed the boy
gently on the forehead. "Take care of him."

"I will."

Garak nodded and walked out the door as Julian punched in
the code for Starbase 375. As he waited for the comm unit to
connect, he looked at the chrono and made some rough
calculations. If they were lucky and the Admiral agreed to
help, they could have a team here within four hours or so.
He only hoped that they would be here in time.

---
CHAPTER NINE: The Good of the Many

Captain Figueiredo looked at her husband's shirt and
grinned. "Need a  bib, babe?"

Alvaro wiped at his front with a napkin and shrugged. "It's
my work  shirt; no one will notice a little barbecue sauce
amongst the paint  splatters anyway. Speaking of which, that
starscape I'm doing of the  wormhole is coming along nicely.
After I'm done I'm thinking of giving  it to Ben then
painting another for the gallery."

"I can't wait to see it," Fig said as she cut into a tender
piece of  brisket. "I also can't wait for Ben to get back to
the station. This  situation is getting ridiculous.
Apparently the Bajoran Ministry is  debating whether or not
to 'evict' Starfleet from the station because of  that stunt
MacKelroy pulled."

"Which is why, I'm assuming, we're eating in your office
instead of the  mess hall?" Alvaro asked.

"I have to be here when the comm comes in." As if on cue her
monitor  chirped. "Speak of the devil--" She wiped her mouth
on her napkin and  answered the comm. "Admiral?"

//We have a problem,// Admiral Gilhouley said, his
expression grim.

"We haven't heard back from the Major on the voting results
yet, sir,"  Fig said with a frown. "First Minister Shakaar
intends to--"

//This isn't about the Bajoran Ministry's voting results,
not  entirely,// Gilhouley said. //Are you alone?//

Fig glanced up at her husband who got up from his seat
reluctantly.  "Guess I'll finish eating in the mess hall
after all."

"Thank you," Fig said with an apologetic glance.

"All part of being married to a powerful woman," Alvaro said
with a wink  just before the doors shut behind him.

She turned back to the monitor. "We're alone," she said.

//I assume you've heard about the virus sweeping through
Bajor?//

"My medical staff was working on the problem from up here,
but last I'd  heard Dr. Bashir had the situation under
control," Fig said with a frown.

//You heard wrong.  Less than two hours ago Bashir contacted
Admiral  Quinn at Starbase 375 saying that the virus had
gone through a  metamorphosis of some sort and the situation
down there was escalating.  Ten minutes after that, all the
reports he sent her were leaked to the  press by someone on
her staff. Now I'm not saying Ross was responsible  for
that--//

"But it's his home port," Fig finished for him.

//Exactly. And let's just say that the news of a mutagenic
virus with no  known cure or treatment protocol that spreads
quickly and appears to be  both Founder and Borg in nature
made quite a splash with the networks.  You can't turn on
the damn holvid without hearing the latest pop culture 
quack ranting about it at the top of their lungs!//

"Shit."

//In a word,// Gilhouley said. //Where they find these
people so fast is  beyond me. What's worse is that because
of this mess the UFP is  convening an emergency meeting.
Admiral Quinn is expected to testify  before the Security
Council via subspace on not only how the information  was
leaked from her offices but as to what this would mean to
the Alpha  Quadrant should it go beyond Bajoran Space. From
what I understand, it  is highly likely that the virus can
adapt itself to infect different  species and that Dr.
Bashir has reason to believe that humans may be next.//

"Well, what are they going to do? Send relief ships to
Bajor?" Fig asked  with a frown.

//They're sending ships all right. The USS Louis Pasteur,
the USS Jonas  Salk, and Abramson's coming your way on the
Titan.//

"Why is the Titan coming along?" she asked in confusion.
"What aren't  you telling me, Fitz?"

//This information stays need to know, Figueiredo; are we
clear?//

"As crystal."

Gilhouley's jaw clenched. //Levine gave me the heads up.
This virus has  the eggheads in HQ pretty damn spooked.
They've never seen anything like  it before and even though
they've only had a couple of hours to run the  scenarios,
they're saying that not only could it infect humans but, 
given enough time, it could potentially infect every known
species  susceptible to viral infection.//

"I don't think I like where you're heading with this, Fitz."

//The feeds we've been getting from the Bajoran press seem
to gel with  what Bashir said in his report. The infection
has spread throughout  Bajor although only those infected
within the monastery are showing  signs of the secondary
phase of this disease. However, this new strain  of the
virus coupled with the fact that Bajor is threatening to go
to  the Dominion with a treaty have forced the UFP to
consider extreme  measures.//

"Extreme--? How extreme are we talking about?"

//The Security Council plans to go before the General
Assembly with a  resolution to enact the Phoenix Protocol.//

"I'm...not familiar with it," she said with a frown.

//I don't expect you to be. It's not something the UFP likes
to see  taught at the Academy. It's the end game, Fig. We've
basically been  ordered to put on a smiley face for the
Provisional Government while we  quarantine Bajor, its
moons, and everyone infected on DS9. The  uninfected will be
evacuated and once that is done, the UFP General  Assembly
will hear the resolution. If they approve it by unanimous
vote,  Command will then green light the order to begin the
destruction of Bajor.//

"You've got to be shitting me!" Fig burst out.

//The good of the many,// Gilhouley said, looking equally
disgusted.  //Levine is trying to stall by saying that
nothing should be decided  until after the Peace Conference,
so they can get the Romulans and the  Klingons to put in
their votes so as not to run into any problems later.  If
they do this it has to be with the consent of all the
Federation  representatives and our allies.//

"So someone has told Sisko about this?" Fig asked.

//No. The longer the Conference remains sequestered the
better. Think  about it: The Romulans are as practical as
the Vulcan scientists who  came up with this scenario in the
first place. If there is even a chance  that their people
are in danger, they'll just skip the UFP assembly and 
firebomb the hell out of that planet themselves. As for the
Klingons,  they might not like the idea of killing a whole
planet full of  unsuspecting civilians, but they'll see the
creators of this thing as  the real killers and their bug as
nothing more than a cowardly act of  terrorism.//

"This is bullshit," Fig said, rubbing her hand over her
mouth and  thinking hard. "So they aren't even going to try
to find a cure? And  what about Ross and Section 31?"

//They've begun on it. Believe me, no one is going to vote
to pull the  trigger on Bajor except as a last resort.
They're keeping this as quiet  as possible and issuing
statements to the press saying that the reports  are overly
exaggerated and that Bajor is merely dealing with a 
drug-resistant form of meningitis. Meanwhile, every
infectious disease  expert in Starfleet is looking at the
information Bashir sent and trying  to figure something out
but there's only so much they can do. We can't  let Bashir
or anyone on Bajor know about what's happening on our end, 
just in case.//

"And Ross?" she repeated.

//As soon as word got out about the Bajoran Ministry calling
a vote on  cutting ties with the Federation, Ross resigned
citing 'health  reasons',// Gilhouley said with a snort.
//Meanwhile Vice Admiral  Fujisaki, the Deputy Chief of
Starfleet Intelligence, plans on  testifying that no such
agency called 'Section 31' exists and then he'll  trot out
his own experts who will point out that the more likely 
culprits are the Dominion and that the possibility exists
that they may  have allied themselves with the Borg to
create it. There is some  evidence which suggests the Borg
could have hives in the Gamma as well  as the Delta
Quadrant.//

"The Borg don't unleash viruses; they assimilate live people
for their  collective!"

//They are seeing what they want to see, Captain. No one,
and I mean no  one, on the Security Council wants to
acknowledge that this thing was  thought up by our own
people. Someone could show up at the General  Assembly
flashing a Section 31 ID badge and they'd just haul him off
for  a long rest at some funny farm on Betazed until he
forgot about it.//

"That's crap!"

//That's real life and no one ever said the Federation was a
Utopian  paradise filled with love and smiley faces,
Figueiredo. If it were then  we would have figured out a way
to get rid of the damn politicians and  divorce lawyers
years ago. We've got our orders to begin phase one. 
Officially it's being done as a preventative measure so the
Council  doesn't need anyone's approval for anything yet.
Abramson will be there  in two hours with the other ships.
You are to coordinate with Major Kira  and tell her they are
here to offer assistance. Have her cease all  traffic coming
in and out of the station and then the doctors on the 
Pasteur and the Salk will begin testing everyone for the
virus and  transfer the unaffected to their ships. Meanwhile
they'll tell Bashir  they can't go to the surface until
given permission by the Bajoran  government but that they'll
offer what help they can while in orbit. If  word comes
down, you and Abramson will wait until the last of the 
uninfected are transported off DS9, then launch a two
pronged attack.  You're to take out the station and then you
and Abramson, working  together, will take out Bajor.//

"My people aren't going to like the idea of killing our own
allies, Fitz."

//If the orders come down they won't have a choice. None of
us will.//

"And you'd be willing to do that if ordered to, Admiral?"
Fig said,  challenging him.

//I've had to do a lot of things I haven't liked because
that's what I  was ordered to do, Figueiredo,// Gilhouley
said in a hard voice. //When  we signed over Federation
colonies to the Cardassians and established  the DMZ, I knew
it was bullshit right then and there. When Picard tried  to
get those colonists to relocate and they all refused I
*knew* they  were headed for trouble. Sure enough, the
Cardassians 'generously'  offered to let them stay and they
jumped on it. They were warned but  they didn't listen. I
mean, Jesus Christ, of course the Cardies were  planning to
renege on the deal! Picard knew it, I knew it: hell, 
everyone knew it! When the Cardassians started attacking
those  settlements, Starfleet should have taken that as a
violation of the  peace treaty and gone back to finish the
job we started, but they  didn't. Instead they just decided
to write off those colonists a second  time. When the order
came down from Headquarters stating that the  colonists were
considered to be defectors and could no longer expect 
Federation protection, I saw men--good men and women who I
had trained  and worked with--resign to join the Maquis. I
can't say I blamed them at  the time either. Despite that, I
did my job. I didn't just go through  the motions like a lot
of others did, then pat myself on the back like I  had done
something noble. I arrested them and I denounced them as 
traitors to the Federation as I was ordered to do. I hauled
my friends  off to prison and I did it with a clear
conscience. I took this position  knowing that I'd be called
on to do things that may not jibe with what I  find morally
acceptable, but I knew then, just as I know now, that the 
job I do serves the greater good. If this virus gets loose
it could  potentially wipe out the entire Alpha Quadrant.
That means you, me, and  everybody else. I agree that
Bashir's theory about Section 31 has  definite possibilities
but if it did get loose then the Founders will  have taken
us out without firing a single shot. I can't ignore that and 
neither can you. Are you willing to risk the lives of every
man, woman,  and child in the Federation by refusing this
order, Captain?//

"No, sir," Figueiredo said quickly.

//Me neither.// Gilhouley sighed. //This is a shitty
assignment, Fig.  I'm sorry you're the one who got stuck
with it, but I trust you to do  what needs to be done.
Frankly I'd rather face a line of Borg cubes  loaded for
bear than a room full of politicians and spin doctors but I 
have to stay put. I'm hoping that I might just have enough
gold on my  collar to make the right people listen to me
before this thing escalates  into something real damn
unfixable.//

"I understand what you're saying, Boss."

//Do you?// Gilhouley asked.

"You drilled it into all of us from day one, Skip: do the
job; live  until retirement. I haven't managed to forget it
yet, have I?"

//You're still breathing, that's true. Still, even I
recognize that this  is some goddamn irregular shit we're
dealing with. The only reason I'm  still feeling pretty damn
cool and confident is because I know you’re up  there when I
have to be down here. Figueiredo, you are the best 
defensive player I have in my line up, and that's no
bullshit.//

"Seriously?" Fig grinned despite the heavy feeling in her
chest. "That's  a hell of a compliment, Skip. I figured you
and Abramson have closed  enough bars together over the
years that he'd be your quarterback in  this shit storm."

//Abramson's who I send in when I need a bulldog, but you're
who I use  when I need cool reasoning and diplomacy with
just enough kick ass to  make things interesting. Right now
I need a friendly face up there to  keep the locals cool.
That said, we've been in enough dogfights together  that you
should have learned by now that diplomacy only goes so far.
If  you can't handle the follow through should the order
come down and the  clock is on the last tick, you hand off
to Abramson, understood?//

"Admiral--" She began with a frown.

//Dammit! Don't interrupt me or start in on that female
empowerment  shit! This isn't because you can't piss
standing up, Fig--if I was in  your place and that order
came down my hand would be trembling on the  trigger, too!
Hell, I expect that Abramson will be crying like a baby  for
a month--if this shit hasn't already convinced him to
retire, then  nothing will!// He paused for a moment, his
jaw clenching as he looked  down at his desk, unable to meet
her eyes. //I've been sick in my gut  since I heard about
this and I'm not ashamed to say it, but if I were  there I
know that in the end I'd still pull the trigger. Just like I 
know Butch will, just like I know you will, too. If I'm
wrong, tell me  now and I promise you it will not affect my
opinion of you as an officer  nor will it go on your record
that you refused. I still have enough time  to send someone
else up there to back up Abramson.//

Fig considered his words carefully. "Can I ask you a
question first?  Before I decide?"

//Shoot.//

"What did Abramson say when you told him?"

//Nothing at first.// Gilhouley said looking her in the eye.
//He just  sat there for a minute then took out his wallet
and showed me pictures  of his grandbaby. For a minute there
I thought I'd finally managed to  crack his nut.//

"Which one?" Fig asked.

//The newest one--Amelia, I think. I can never keep up with
them all.  After five minutes of staring at that picture, he
said that as hard a  thing as this was, he couldn't risk
losing his family to some damn virus  just because he
couldn't man up and do what needed to be done before it  got
that far.//

"I don't know, Skip. Personally I can't picture Abramson
going along  with this 'final solution' the Security Council
is pushing on Bajor."  She shook her head, "Eating an
occasional BLT is one thing, but  something like this..."

//Abramson agreed to do it because we're doing it for the
right reasons.  We're not the Nazis persecuting the Jews;
we're not committing genocide  for the hell of it. This
virus has already spread through Bajor like  wildfire. With
the wormhole right there and Bajor being in the center of 
some major trade routes for several planets, there's no way
we could  enforce a long term quarantine. It would get out
and it would spread in  a matter of months to every man,
woman, and child from Bajor to Earth.  He knows that, do
you? Speak now, Figueiredo. Last chance.//

She considered that for a moment, then sighed. "I guess if a
powderpuff  like Butch Abramson can take this assignment
then so can I."

Gilhouley nodded. //I promise I'll hold up my end of things
and keep you  informed on what's happening here in the
meantime. Hopefully the brains  will pull this one out of
the fire; if not, you could have about a week  before the
orders come down. Could be a little more than that, but I 
doubt it. The rumor is that the Peace Summit is drawing to a
close and  once that happens...//

"That's not a whole lot of time."

//No, it's not. I know you're a rock, Fig, but can your
people hold up?//

"Everyone on my crew is solid," she said. "If not, then when
the smoke  clears the UFP can just send us all to Betazed
for a nice long  therapeutic vacation."

//You got it. I'll see to it they include the complementary 
straitjackets and rubber rooms with a view in their vacation
package.  Personally, I prefer to get my therapy on Risa.//

She grinned. "I hear that. Until the guys with the butterfly
nets come  knocking on our door, Skip, we're five by five,
SSDD down here. You can  relax."

//Same shit, different day; I read you,// he replied. //Good
luck, Fig.  Gilhouley out.//

Fig sat back in her chair, her smile fading like her
appetite despite  the happy face she had put on for her
commanding officer. He knew it,  too. Gilhouley wasn't
stupid. She was willing to bet that the second the  comm
monitor went black so had his mood.

Fuck, she thought. Three billion people. Three billion
people spread  throughout Bajor and its moons, many of whom
she had gotten to know  personally, might be sentenced to
die and she had been chosen to be  their executioner.

"These are the voyages of the USS Venture and its ongoing
mission: to  seek out and bomb the shit out of unsuspecting,
innocent civilians. Can  you live with that?" she asked her
reflection on the darkened comm  monitor. "Can you look
Benjamin Sisko in the face and tell him that  along with
every Bajoran he once knew, you also pulled the trigger on 
his son, his son's girlfriend, and their unborn child
without at least  trying to save them first?" She shook her
head, "No. Not going to  happen, girlfriend: not on your
watch." She hit her comm badge.  "Figueiredo to Marquez."

//Marquez.//

"I need you and Lt. Commander Xerk to come my office
immediately."

//Yes sir. Marquez out.//

As she waited for her first officer, Figueiredo began to
plan out her  next move.

---

Mitch MacKelroy was a big man: six foot nine and 250 pounds
of pure  muscle. He obviously prided himself on his physical
strength. Compared  to Galophile Xerk, though, he was a puny
weakling.

At nearly nine feet tall, the native of Dalpernius XII
towered over him,  his beefy fist slamming into the
Commander and sending him crashing into  the wall of his
cell.

As soon as MacKelroy could breathe again he spit out a
mouthful of blood  and growled at the man standing on the
other side of the force field  behind his attacker. "I'll
have you court-martialed for this! You and  your captain!"

"If you live that long," Commander Marquez said blithely as
he nodded at  his tactical officer.

Xerk grabbed MacKelroy by the neck and slammed him against
the wall,  squeezing slowly until his eyes began to bug out
from their sockets.

As MacKelroy choked and clawed at the large purple-fleshed
alien's hand,  Marquez smirked. "That looks a mite
uncomfortable, MacKelroy. Tell me  what I want to know and
I'll see to it he lets you breathe."

"F-uck you!" MacKelroy gurgled.

"That's not very nice," Marquez said just before Xerk drew
MacKelroy  back like he was heaving a baseball and bounced
him off the wall.  MacKelroy's head slammed into the metal
wall; he landed face first onto  the floor with a loud
crack.

When Xerk picked him up by his hair, blood poured from the
man's now  obviously broken nose. "Keep this up and the
ladies won't think you're  pretty anymore."

"This--" MacKelroy coughed as he clutched at Xerk's hand.
"This is  illegal! I'm an officer of the--"

Xerk backhanded him, sending two of his teeth skidding
across the floor.  "Keep going, asshole," Xerk said in an
incredibly deep voice. "I can  keep this up as long as you
can."

"Tell us about Section 31," Marquez ordered.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" MacKelroy
protested.

"Xerk."

"With pleasure," Xerk said before picking MacKelroy up by
his hair and  slinging him across the room where he bounced
off of the cell's  electrified force field. MacKelroy
screamed and landed in a heap while  the alien brushed his
hands off, causing several strands of the  Commander's hair
to fall gently to the ground. "If I had known how messy 
this was going to get I would have changed out of my
uniform."

Marquez shrugged. "If the 'fresher doesn't get the blood out
you can  always just replicate a new one."

"True."

"H-help!" MacKelroy yelled, scrambling to his knees.
"Somebody help me!"

"Nobody's coming," Marquez said from the other side of the
field. "And  if you don't start talking I'll be forced to
tell Xerk to start getting  really rough."

Xerk approached MacKelroy again. The commander got to his
feet and swung  at the alien blindly; Xerk grabbed his wrist
with his left hand, then  curled his right arm and brought
his elbow down, breaking the bones of  MacKelroy's forearm
with an audible snap. MacKelroy screamed as Xerk  released
him, clutching his now-useless arm against his chest.

"I'm getting bored now," the alien said, turning toward
Marquez. "Let's  take this guy into the airlock and play
'how long can you hold your  breath' for a while."

"What do you think, MacKelroy?" Marquez asked. "That sound
like fun to you?"

"I don't know anything!" MacKelroy yelled.

"I don't think that's true," Marquez said easily. "Your
Uncle Billy  seems to be tight with Section 31 and since you
two are so close, the  way I figure it you have to know
something. Just give me a name and this  can all end with a
smile and a visit with the doc. She might even give  you a
lollipop if you're a really good boy."

"You'll all go to prison for this!" MacKelroy spat out.
"There is no  such thing as Section 31!"

"Hmmm, you know Xerk, maybe he's right." Marquez said
turning back to  MacKelroy.

"Could be. You want to end the interrogation?"

"We're not getting anywhere. Might as well." Marquez took
out his side  arm and with an audible click set it to
maximum.

"What are you doing?" MacKelroy asked, watching him.

"As soon as the field goes down make sure to move out of the
way,"  Marquez said to Xerk.

"Wait--what are you doing? You're going to kill me?!?"
MacKelroy screeched.

"Well, we can't have you filing any reports on this, can we?
It wouldn't  look good on our records."

"My wife would be mad and I can't have that. Sorry," Xerk
said with a  huge smile that showed off his double row of
razor-sharp teeth.  MacKelroy backed away from him, his
knees beginning to shake as sweat  broke out all over his
face.

Marquez blew on his phaser and polished it with his sleeve.
"Of course,  if you knew something we'd have to keep you
alive to testify, but since  you don't--"

"Sloan!" MacKelroy shouted.

"And Sloan would be...?"

"I don't know anything about a Section 31--"

"Oh, well in that case--" Marquez said, reaching for the
controls to the  field.

"--but I overheard Ross talking to a guy he called Sloan
over the comm  unit!" MacKelroy said quickly. "He was
calling from Deep Space Nine and  he told Ross 'it's done'
and hung up."

Marquez shot him a look. "When was that?"

"Three months ago! Then just last week Ross ordered me to go
back to the  station and have the Tobin take Sloan back with
them when they dropped  me off! That's all I know, I swear!"

"Did Section 31 have anything to do with the virus on
Bajor?" Marquez asked.

"I don't know! You have to believe me; I was just following
Ross's orders!"

"Sloan?"

"Sloan, yes!" MacKelroy shouted. "He's human, tall, blond,
in his  forties--he'll be on the surveillance footage! Just
go look--please!"

Marquez hit the panel and the field went down. He leveled
his phaser  toward MacKelroy and cocked his head at Xerk who
stepped out of the  cell. He let MacKelroy cower for a
moment before he hit the panel again  to activate the field.
"I'm going to check the feeds, MacKelroy, but if  it turns
out this 'Sloan' doesn't exist we're coming back and if we
do I  can promise you our next conversation won't be as
pleasant as this one  was." He looked down at the other
man's uniform and smirked. "I'll tell  the doc to bring you
a fresh uniform. The one you're wearing is probably  going
to start getting ripe soon."

"Oops," Xerk said, glancing at him through the field. "All
you had to do  was tell me you had to go to the bathroom.
We're not unreasonable men,  you know."

MacKelroy said nothing; he simply clutched his arm tighter
to his chest  and trembled with a mixture of fear and rage.

"See you Mitch."

The two officers left the brig and walked towards the
turbolift. "Think  he was bullshitting us?" Marquez asked.

Xerk glanced at him before taking a handkerchief out of his
pocket to  wipe the blood off of his knuckles. "Maybe. Don't
think so though. Are  you going to go debrief the captain?"

"Yep. Go back to your quarters and change, then start going
through the  feeds."

"I hope this was worth it," Xerk sighed. "If we're wrong and
I wind up  court-martialed for beating the shit out of a
superior officer my wife  really will kill me."

Marquez shot him a look. "Penny is at least a foot shorter
than I am and  all of a hundred and forty pounds. I doubt
she can do a whole lot of  damage."

"That's what you think," Xerk rumbled. "Four days out of the
month that  woman could take on a squadron of rampaging
Klingons and win. And just  to let you know, if you ever
have to guess at her weight again, go with  one-ten. One
time I glanced at her ID and made the mistake of commenting 
that it seemed to me to be a rather low figure. She nearly
tore my nuts  off with her bare hands."

Marquez adjusted himself in sympathy. "God, I'm glad I'm
single."

---

"Sloan."

//Never heard of him,// Gilhouley said with a frown.

"MacKelroy said he commed Ross from DS9 three months ago.
Marquez and  Xerk went through the station's security
footage and found an image that  could be him." She
transmitted it to his computer.

Gilhouley examined it for a moment. //I'll make discreet
inquiries on my  end. How'd you get him to talk?//

"Just old-fashioned courtesy--combined with a little
teamwork from two  of my senior officers."

//Uh huh. Just make sure the bruises are healed and the
medical logs are  expunged before MacKelroy says anything
different.//

"Has the UFP come back with anything yet?"

//No, but Levine called me during the break. It's not
looking good for  Bajor.//

---

Later that evening as Julian was going over the last of the
blood tests,  Garak walked through his office door, his face
grim.

"What is it?" Julian said, looking up from his desk. "Lewin?
Okuna  didn't say anything when he dropped off his status
report--"

"It isn't Lewin," Garak said as he closed the door firmly
behind him,  then locked it.

"What?" Julian asked, watching him from narrowed eyes.

"I stopped by my quarters after Lewin and the others were
stabilized. As  you know, I've been monitoring all
Cardassian transmissions in the  sector. What you don't know
is that I've also taken up the habit of  monitoring any
encoded Starfleet transmissions as well."

"Garak! If anyone found out, you'd be--" Julian began.

"I was protecting my own interests, doctor." Garak said,
cutting him  off. "I didn't leave the station under the best
of circumstances. I  noticed that the Venture had sent and
received several secured  transmissions to and from Earth in
the last few hours. I hacked into the  logs and discovered
something I think you should know."

As Garak told him what the UFP was planning he felt his
stomach tighten  into a knot. "I can't believe our people
would even consider something  like this," he said.

"I would," Garak said grimly. "I'm actually more surprised
that they're  hesitating."

"The second wave of the infection hasn't even hit most of
Bajor yet!"  Julian argued.

"But how long before it does?" Garak asked. "And how long
will it be  before this virus mutates to the point where it
starts affecting humans  or Cardassians? And what about
other races in the Alpha Quadrant?"

Julian rubbed his beard. "So what do we do? Call Shakaar?
What?"

"No one can know about this but us," Garak said. "If this
gets out it  will start a planet-wide panic. The vessels
monitoring Bajor will have  no choice but to attack if
people start trying to evacuate. They cannot  allow this
infection to spread."

"How long do we have? Hours? Days?" Julian asked, feeling as
though the  walls were closing in on him. "I can't possibly
find a cure in time!"

"Captain Figueiredo had her men interrogate Commander
MacKelroy. He came  up with a name: Sloan."

"What can we do with just one name?"

"I have some contacts off-world. I can see if they can track
him down.  In the meantime, you need to work on the
treatment."

Julian nodded. "31 has to have a cure. It only makes sense
in case their  own people became infected. I just don't
understand what the point of  all this is. How does setting
loose this virus ensure the safety of the  Federation?"

"Think about it," Garak said. "Bajor holds no strategic
value to the  Federation other than its proximity to the
wormhole and it has no real  military power other than Deep
Space Nine and a few small ships in its  militia. Deep Space
Nine is no longer reason enough to maintain the  status quo.
Unleashing this virus and destroying Bajor not only means 
that there's no one to object to the destruction of the
wormhole, but it  also sends a message to the Cardassians as
to how far the Federation  will go to keep its people safe.
Cut off from the Dominion, the  Cardassians will have no
choice but to submit."

"Would they? Even if all that came to pass?"

Garak shrugged. "When the Federation blinked during the
negotiations  into the treaty to turn over the colonies
along the DMZ, the leaders of  Cardassia saw it as a sign of
weakness. That opinion was solidified when  they failed to
intervene after hostilities began against the colonists. 
Making the decision to eliminate Bajor and then bring a
strong military  presence in afterward will cause the
current administration to rethink  their first impression of
the Federation. Not only that, but this will  rally all the
planets within the United Federation of Planets to see the 
Dominion as a dire threat to the safety of every man, woman,
and child.  Until now your people have had a wait-and-see
policy when it came to  hostile governments, preferring
diplomacy over a show of arms. The  architects of this
conspiracy undoubtedly think that will change once  this
gambit comes to its conclusion."

Julian considered that carefully. "But the virus changed
inside of  Ziyal's system; no one could have predicted
that."

"Had the Cardassians been infected, the threat would have
been  neutralized as well, or--who knows. Perhaps the
scientists who created  it deliberately targeted Ziyal for
infection knowing it would eventually  infect pure-blooded
Bajorans. Either way, it's worked to their advantage."

"That's diabolical."

"It's also the reason Cardassia never employed biowarfare,"
Garak said.  "The results of such an attack are often
unpredictable."

"What are we going to do?" Julian asked, mostly to himself.

"I'm going to make some calls. You just keep working. We'll
find this  Sloan and figure out what to do from there."

"Garak," he said, looking up. "Finding one man isn't going
to be easy.  Even if we had years to find him, which we
don't, he could literally be  anywhere by now. What do we do
if we can't find him in time?"

Garak looked at him, his eyes darkening with some unnamed
emotion. "If  we can't find him and you can't find a cure
then...we die."

"That's not an option!" Julian said as he rose from his
seat. "We  evacuate! We--"

"We'd spread the virus to wherever we evacuated to, doctor,
and we can't  risk doing that," he said firmly. "We'd only
be postponing the  inevitable if we did and we'd kill more
people in the process."

Julian balled his hands into fists, a quick denial dying on
his lips as  he realized Garak was right. His shoulders
sagged in defeat. "Make the  calls."

Garak sat down in his chair and logged on to his computer.
Julian  watched over his shoulder as the Cardassian
effortlessly hacked through  various firewalls until he had
the Tobin's logs. "One passenger  disembarked from the Tobin
on Starbase 375: a Wendell Greer." Garak did  a search on
Wendell Greer, then read the information aloud. "He's a 
member of the Federation Department of Cartography. He was
assigned to  Deep Space Nine to map the wormhole a few days
prior to the planned  attack by the Founder. Apparently, he
volunteered to help dismantle the  Founder's
reconfigurations to the array, using his experience as a 
trained engineer as an in. He stayed to help with the
upgrades while  completing his 'assignment' until the Tobin
arrived to drop off  MacKelroy; he then joined their crew.
He left Starbase 375, remaining  just long enough to secure
supplies and refuel his ship."

"He had a ship?"

"The records show that a privately owned Epsilon-class
private cruiser  was kept there in storage under his name
for the last three months." He  typed in a few more
commands. "He also does not appear to have logged a  flight
plan when he left."

"Now what?" Julian asked.

Garak turned to him. "You said you had reason to believe
this virus  could have been created either in the Neutral
Zone or Orion Space, correct?"

"Possibly. It's where I'd go if I wanted to hire someone to
create a  virus like this."

"Starbase 375 is closer to Orion space than it is the
Neutral Zone."  Garak turned on the comm unit and waited for
it to connect. A Cardassian  man appeared on screen.

//Garak. I assumed it was you when I saw where the comm was
originating  from.//

"Maehark," Garak said in greeting with a slight nod. "Tain
is dead."

//I know,// Maehark said. //I got word of what happened
right after you  returned from the Gamma Quadrant.//

"I need a favor."

//Ask.//

Garak looked at him, not bothering to hide his surprise. "I
assumed I  would have to barter for the information."

//Tain left you his share of the security firm, Garak. Any
information  you need is yours. Despite your estrangement he
knew you would always  return to him. It appears he was not
wrong.//

Garak paused for a moment, seeming to allow that to sink in.
After a  moment he spoke again. "I need to find a man. He
appears to have  contacts with someone in the Orion
Syndicate or the Neutral  Zone--medical contacts. The kind
capable of creating sophisticated  bioweapons."

//Do you have a name or an alias?//

"I have both. His name is Sloan but he was last known to be
traveling  under the alias 'Wendell Greer'. He's human. I'm
sending you the file. I  have to warn you it's thin: merely
a quick rundown of his last known  itinerary and a still
frame from the security feed." Garak waited a  moment for it
to appear on the other man's end. "Time is an issue. We 
believe he may be in Orion space by now."

Maehark frowned, then typed something on his computer. He
looked at  Garak with a raised eyeridge. //I was under the
impression you were  retired and had become a humble priest.
I didn't realize the Bajoran  clergy had a lot of contact
with agents of Section 31.//

Julian jumped, startled, but said nothing as Garak continued
to speak  with the other Cardassian. "You know him?"

//I've never dealt with him personally but he's made several
trips to  and from Finnea recently. A contact of mine with
Idanian Intelligence  has him and a man named Phlox under
surveillance.//

"Phlox?" Julian said with a frown. "Rupert Phlox?"

//And I take it this would be Dr. Bashir?// Maehark said
with a slight  smile. //Tain mentioned you as well,
doctor.//

"He did?"

//Rest assured, he was very kind in his assessment of you,//
Maehark  said evenly. //He was very impressed by the
devotion you seemed to show  his wayward pupil.//

"That warms my heart, really," Julian said flatly. "Now, are
you talking  about Dr. Rupert Phlox, the microbiologist?"

//Yes.//

"You know him?" Garak asked.

"I know of him. He was a scientist working with Starfleet
Medical until  twenty years ago."

"What do you know about him?"

"He was a legend. In fact, his great great great grandfather
served on  the first Enterprise. Phlox had it all--a legacy,
talent--so when he got  caught manipulating his results it
scandalized the entire medical  community. They audited his
department afterward and found out he'd been  using grant
funds to cover his gambling debts. He was prosecuted for 
embezzlement and served sixteen months in a Federation
prison. He was  completely disgraced by the whole thing; he
lost his good standing and  his license in the process but
his work previous to that was irrefutably  brilliant.
They're still teaching his theories at the Academy."

//And apparently he still has a gambling addiction,//
Maehark broke in.  //He's a regular fixture in the gambling
houses there. Phlox has been  working off his debt to the
Syndicate by doing something for this Sloan  but no one in
the IIS knows what that might be.//

"How good is this contact of yours in the Idanian
Intelligence Service?"  Garak asked.

//Very.//

"I need you to set up a meeting between your contact and my
people then  have him arrange it so they can escort Sloan
back to Bajor. The doctor  as well, if possible."

//I think I can arrange that. Idanians are difficult to pin
down of  course, but we've worked together before.//

"If you do this for me, Maehark, you can keep my share of
the firm,"  Garak said.

Maehark shook his head. //Tain left it to you, Garak. When
you're ready  to return you'll be welcomed. We could use
someone with your experience  at the helm. You should also
know that Tain kept your accounts active.  I've been
depositing your share of the profits into them.//

"He was probably just waiting to see if I'd ever try to
access them,"  Garak said.

//I think that was part of it, but they are yours
nonetheless,// Maehark  said with a slight smile.

"Thank you, my friend. I'll contact you as soon as I have
the particulars."

//I meant what I said, Garak,// Maehark said as he glanced
at Julian.  //If you get tired of your life there. As I
recall we worked very well  together once upon a time.//

"I remember, but I'm happy where I am. Thank you Maehark.
Garak out."

Julian felt a flush of anger crawl up his cheeks as he went
over  Maehark's words and the way he had looked so
dismissively toward him.  "Just how 'closely' did you work
with this Maehark anyway?"

"We were in the Order together, then when Tain retired and
opened a  private security firm in the Arawath Colonies he
took Maehark with him  as a junior partner. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Julian said darkly. "Who are you calling now?"

"Jomat Luscon."

Julian searched his memory. "The head of Bajoran Social
Services? Why?"

Garak didn't answer him. The line connected and he looked
into the  woman's eyes. "Luscon."

//Garak,// she breathed, then she cleared her throat. //I
was hoping  you'd call. Merel told me--//

"I need your help."

//What do you need?//

"Have you kept up with the rest of the survivors?" Garak
said in a  strangely neutral tone.

//Yes,// she replied. //Garak--if this is about what I told
Merel, I'm  sorry. I--//

"It's not important," Garak said, cutting her off.

//Yes, it is,// Luscon insisted. //Garak, I owe you an
apology.  After--// She cleared her throat again and said in
a lower voice,  //After the cave-in we looked for you both
but couldn't find the bodies.  A few years later one of my
social workers called to tell me that a  young Starfleet
doctor she had just finished speaking with had been 
accompanied by a rather odd Cardassian man. To say he left a
lingering  impression on her would be an understatement.//
Her lips curved slightly  upward. //From the description she
gave me, I thought it might have been  you but I couldn't
know for sure. I did some checking and that's when I 
discovered you'd been on the station since the Occupation
ended. I  wanted to contact you, but-//

"It's all right," Garak began.

//No, it's not,// she said. //I was afraid that the reason
you hid from  me that day was because you blamed me for what
happened.//

"Blamed you?" Garak repeated.

//I was the leader, Garak. I should have been the one to
make those  transmissions, not you. I did it
because--because I knew Dukat would  recognize your voice.
You were our ally, Garak. You fought beside us,  helped put
food in our stomachs, but at the time--// She looked away 
from him. //I just wanted the Cardassians to know that one
of their own  was on our side. I thought that the reason you
didn't come to me after  the Occupation was because you
blamed me for what happened.//

"No. I never did," Garak said, his expression showing the
depths of his  surprise far more than words ever could. "I
thought you blamed me--all  of you."

//No, never,// she said with a smile. //Didn't you figure
that out when  I sent Merel to you?//

"No."

//I sent her to you because I knew she could trust
you...like we trusted  you.//

Garak went silent for a moment. "I can't...I don't have time
for this  right now, Luscon. I need your help; lives are at
stake."

//What is it?//

"I heard a rumor that Momo was running freight in the Orion
sector."

Luscon snorted rudely. //If by 'running freight' you mean to
ask 'is  Momo smuggling whatever she can get the most
latinum for while staying  under the Orion Syndicate's
radar'? Then yes, she is.//

"Can you get in touch with her?"

//I can.// She looked at him with curiosity. //What's this
about, Garak?//

"I need her to make contact with someone over there and I
need it to be  soon."

//I'll see what I can do. Expect her call within the hour.//

"Thank you."

//I really have missed you, Garak. When we can, I'd like to
meet with  you in person, perhaps talk about the old days.//

He smiled. "I'd like that."

//Good bye.//

"Good bye, Luscon."

A myriad of emotions were reflected in Garak's face as the
Cardassian  sat staring at the blank screen. If the
revelations made by Maehark had  surprised Julian, Garak's
conversation with Jomat Luscon had left him  utterly undone,
and a little shell-shocked as well. She'd basically 
implied--no, she had said that Garak had been affiliated
with the  Resistance during the Occupation. Was this 'Anwen'
Garak dreamed about  the reason why? Was she a Bajoran? Was
Anwen his comfort woman or was it  more than that? He
suspected it was, if after all these years he still  thought
about her. And what was Luscon talking about when she
mentioned  Garak being caught in a cave-in?

Was that why he suffered from claustrophobia? Garak had told
him that  his fear of tight spaces came about when he was
trapped in a room where  the walls moved while on
assignment. As he recalled, the assignment in  question was
on the planet Tzenketh, and while an Obsidian Order agent 
might have reason to go off world to Tzenketh, a member of
the Bajoran  Resistance would not.

What had Brother Lum told him? There had been a mountain
range 2000  kilometers east of here that had been leveled
shortly before the  Occupation had ended. And there was
something else; something in the old  man's story he had
found mildly interesting at the time but hadn't  really
clued on to until now...

"Garak--?"

Garak arose from his chair with a sudden movement and headed
for the  door. "I have to check on Lewin and Kela, then I
have to continue  monitoring the transmissions to and from
Starfleet. We need to be  prepared for the worst. Keep
working on the virus and I'll inform you  the moment I hear
anything."

"But I--" he made a frustrated noise in his throat. No time
for those  type of questions, Jules. Save them for after you
beat this thing. "Very  well, if I find anything I'll do the
same."

"Goodnight, doctor."

"Goodnight."

After Garak left, Julian went into the main tent to do his
rounds. At  one point he'd known Garak, or rather he'd
thought he'd known him. Now  it appeared that he wasn't the
only one who had lived a completely  different life before
coming to the station.

---
CHAPTER TEN: The Code of the Resistance
---

"We take care of our own."

That was what Shakaar had said to Kira when she asked why he
was determined to fight to keep Garak on Bajor. What was his
connection with the Resistance? Was he a double agent
working for the Bajorans?

No, Julian told himself: that didn't make any sense. If he
had been an ally to the Bajorans why would he have been
living as an exile on the station all these years? The
Bajorans would have made him a superstar, throwing his
collaboration with the Resistance in the face of the
Cardassians every chance they got. It just didn't add up.

Julian turned over in his cot and listened to the soft
snores of his patients as they slept in their beds and the
lows beeps of the biomonitors they had placed on each of
them.

Once they had stabilized them, it was decided that they
would keep the worst of them lightly sedated and inside the
medical tent while the rest of the monks doubled up in their
own cabins so they could keep check on each other. The
medical team decided to take turns sleeping within the
makeshift ward in case of emergency. He and Perreira were on
call tonight, then Girani and Okuna would do so tomorrow.
Jake was sleeping in the same room as Ziyal keeping watch
there; they wouldn't have been able to move him in any case
so Julian had made the call to let him stay.

He listened as Perreira walked down the aisles of beds
checking on each of their patients. Julian cursed silently
and tried to get comfortable; he was supposed to be taking
over for Perreira in an hour and he had yet to even shut his
eyes. The fact that he was having trouble sleeping was
understandable given the circumstances, but his mind should
have been focusing on the problem of finding a cure, not on
Garak's past.

Perhaps it was just his mind's way of avoiding more stress
than it could handle, but right now the mysterious Mr. Garak
was all he could think about. Frankly, if he had to think
about Garak he'd rather be focusing on his past than on
their near-kiss under the tree the previous morning. Julian
shifted again in the narrow cot. It had been so sweet, so
close to perfect. Their mouths had brushed so softly as he
attempted to seduce Garak with his words and it had been
working. Had everything gone as it should have he'd be
sleeping in Garak's bed tonight instead of a hard cot
surrounded by twenty-seven other people.

God, he was hard up, Julian thought, staring up at the
ceiling. It was sick. How could anyone feel the least bit
sexual at a time like this? He should be ashamed of himself.
For the most part, the world as they knew it was about to
end. Anyone who could get it up at a time like this had to
be fucked in the head.

Still, just when he thought he had Garak pinned down,
reality (once again) decided to take a left turn on him. The
idea of Garak being a supporter of the Bajoran Resistance
was preposterous. Garak would never betray Cardassia. For
the last five years he had done everything he could to
return to Cardassia. He had risked his life how many times
just to ingratiate himself to Enabran Tain? No, if the
Bajorans thought Garak was their ally it had to have been
because he had been under cover or something. That's it,
Julian thought. Maybe Garak had been assigned to infiltrate
the Resistance and--

And what?

He had met someone? Fallen in love, perhaps, and that's what
led to his exile? A romantic scenario, but not a role he
could ever see a man like Elim Garak playing. He wasn't a
romantic, he was a pragmatist. He'd never allow himself to
be vulnerable enough to--

But that wasn't true, was it? Recent history had taught him
that, didn't it? Garak had allowed himself to fall for the
Founder and had fallen so hard he'd ignored the obvious
signs the Founder left behind, so who was it Julian was
confusing the Cardassian with?

Who do you think, Jules?

Son of a bitch, Julian thought as he stared at the ceiling
of the tent. Even Garak was more human than he was.

Fuck.

He punched his pillow and rolled over. Thinking about this
wasn't doing anyone any good. Besides, it didn't matter any
more, did it? If he couldn't find that cure they were dead
anyway. Go to sleep, he told himself: this might be the last
opportunity you ever have to actually find a little peace.

Julian shut his eyes and breathed, willing the visions he
now had of Elim Garak out of his troubled mind.

---

Okuna woke up to a strange noise. A crash and...he
concentrated; someone was singing. Badly.

He got up out of bed and grabbed a pair of boxers off the
chair near his bed. He stepped out of his room, rubbing his
eyes sleepily. When his vision adjusted to the sudden light,
he blinked again just so he could be sure he was actually
seeing what he was seeing.

Girani was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace
drinking wine straight from the bottle, a second bottle
laying in shards among the embers of the smoldering fire.
She was singing the bawdiest, most obscene song he had ever
heard; something about a cabin boy sticking glass up his--

"What the hell are you doing?" Okuna asked irritably.

"Drinking," she said, then began to sing again. "The cabin
boy, the cabin boy; the cheeky little nipper! He stuffed his
arse all full of glass and circumcised the skipper!" She
chuckled, taking another swig of wine, then winced. "Oh
Prophets, this stuff's awful. We made better wine then this
in our latrine during the Occupation." She looked up at him
blearily. "What's a 'skipper' anyway? O'Brien never
explained that part to me."

"It's a--why are you getting drunk at a time like this?" he
burst out. "With everything that's happening you decided
*NOW* was the time to fall apart?!?"

"Can you think of a better time?" she asked before belching
loudly. "Oh, that didn't taste good. Ugh. Mind if I borrow
your toothbrush? I left mine over at Jake and Ziyal's
cabin."

"Hell, yes, I mind!" he retorted. "What are you going to do
if we have a medical emergency and you're needed to attend?"

"Oh don't get your grinches in a twist, Okuna," she said
swaying slightly.

"It's gonch, not grinch--"

"Whatever. There's a couple of hypos on the table. I can be
sober and hangover-free when I need to be. Right now I just
want to get piss drunk."

"Piss drunk?"

"That's what O'Brien called it: piss drunk." She held the
's' in 'piss' a second or two longer than necessary. "I like
the way that sounds. Say it with me, Okuna: Pissssssss
drunk. PISSSSSSSSSSS DRUNK! Let's all get PISSSSSS DRUNK!"

"Let's not." He plucked the bottle from her hands. "What do
you say we administer you those hypos and get you into a
warm bath?" he suggested, putting the bottle aside and
helping her up from the floor.

She fell into his arms and grinned drunkenly into his face.
"You know, Okuna," she said with a lascivious look, "you're
not so bad looking--I mean, you're not great, but you're not
completely disgusting either."

"Thank you," he said dryly, avoiding her boozy breath by
tilting his head away from her. "And you're not such a high
riding bitch once you're too drunk to remember to act like
one."

"Thank you. Wanna fuck?"

Okuna choked slightly. "Pardon me?"

"Fuck. The act of copulation. You and me. Fuck. Ing," she
said, putting a great deal of emphasis on the obscenity.

"You are really, really drunk Girani, so I think we'd
better--"

"Do you have something against getting laid, Okuna?" Girani
asked, pushing away from him and lifting an eyebrow. "I
sincerely doubt you were dating that dabo girl for her mind,
so what gives?"

"I like sex fine, I just have no intentions of--" and with
that he made a vague gesture with his hands, "with you!"

"Why not? Don't you think I'm attractive?"

"I-I-" Okuna scowled. "I'm not going to--you're drunk!"

"So?"

"So? So it wouldn't be right!"

"Don't be such a weenie."

Okuna did a double take. "Who told you--wait: O'Brien."

"Yup."

"Do you even know what a weenie is?"

"Kind of. Want to whip yours out so I can make sure?" Girani
asked with a bawdy wink.

"I will not take advantage of you while you're in this
state!"

"Take advantage--?" Girani laughed. "I may be on the tipsy
side, Okuna, but that fruit juice the monks make is nothing
compared to what I usually drink when I get good and serious
about it!"

"Then why are you staggering around?"

"I had to give myself another hypo. The combination of the
muscle relaxant with the wine increases the effects of the
alcohol." She suddenly sounded much more sober. "In another
day or so I'm going to be laid out on a cot with the rest of
them. I'm going to die, Okuna."

He looked at her, suddenly feeling at a loss. "Doctor Bashir
is working on the problem--"

"Grow up! It's too late!" She plopped down on the couch and
stared at the fire. "It's not that I mind dying. It's just
that I didn't...I just planned on doing more with my life
first."

"There's still time," he said, moving to sit next to her.
"Doc Bashir will pull it out of the fire; he always does."

"He's not a superhero, Okuna. He's just flesh and blood like
the rest of us." She leaned back, her mood suddenly very
subdued. "I had plans, you know? I was going to take some
time off when I had a chance, start a family maybe. I've
been delivering other people's babies for years. I'm old
enough now that I figured it was time to have one of my
own."

"I didn't even know you were seeing anybody," he said in
surprise.

"I'm not."

He frowned. "Then how--?"

"You don't need a man to have a baby, Okuna. Are you sure
you have a medical degree?" She snorted. "I was going to
have someone donate, then Dr. Bashir was going to do the
procedures. We'd already discussed it--or rather, the
Founder and I had discussed it, but the real Bashir had gone
over it with me after all that mess as well. I figured I'd
schedule something in the summer or whenever things calmed
down. That's never going to happen now." She sighed,
plopping back into the couch. "Oh well, I would have made a
lousy mother anyway. No one likes me; why would my own kid
be any different?"

"I like you."

"You can't stand me."

"That's not true! I like you fine. I think you're an
excellent doctor."

She pinned him with a dirty look. "I'm not asking you to
testify as to my professional abilities, Okuna. I'm talking
about who I am as a person."

"Oh. Well..." He frowned and tried to find something
positive to say. "You have a great sense of humor."

"I do?" she asked dubiously.

"Oh, yeah," Okuna said enthusiastically. "You're always
tossing around those zingers to me and Perreira, keeping us
on our toes."

"It's not that hard. The two of you aren't exactly
geniuses."

"See what I mean? There you go. You have a certain...gruff
charm."

"'Gruff charm'?" she repeated.

"That's right."

"In other words, I'm a sarcastic, know-it-all bitch."

"Um, I was going for a slightly less inflammatory
description, but yes. Only in a good way," he added quickly.

Girani rolled her eyes and snorted. "Whatever. Let's go,"
she said, getting up from the couch and tugging him by the
arm to join her.

"Where are we going?" Okuna asked reluctantly as he allowed
himself to be pulled along.

"My room."

He put on the brakes and tugged him arm back. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yeah, why?"

"So we can have sex. I explained this to you already," she
said to him in a tone that implied that she thought he was
mentally disabled.

"I can't--we can't have sex!" he cried.

"Why? Do you have some sort of defect or kink I need to know
about?" Girani asked, looking at him like he was a bug.

"No!" He cleared his throat. "I'll have you know that I am a
perfectly normal, healthy man--in *every* way. That has
nothing to do with--"

"I'll have to take your word for it," Girani said, giving
his baggy boxer shorts an assessing look. "Hard to tell if
that's true while you're wearing those things."

Okuna crossed his hands in front of himself and shifted his
stance slightly. "You don't even like me in that way,
Girani."

"So?"

"So?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I say?" Girani said
irritably. "Look, I'm facing death here. I just want to get
laid before that happens and you're available. If Perreira
was the one standing there--" She paused. "On second
thought, not even the threat of impending doom would ever
get me to go there. Still, whether you agree to have sex
with me or not, I'm getting laid even if I have to knock on
the doors of every monk who can still get out of bed. I
might even have a go with Dr. Bashir, although I doubt I'm
still his type."

"I just--I always assumed--" Okuna struggled with how to put
what he was trying to say into words.

"You assumed what?"

"I always assumed you went the 'other' way," he got out at
last.

"What other way?"

"I assumed you were a lesbian."

"A what?"

"A homosexual woman; someone who only sleeps with other
women."

"Oh. I am."

"What?"

"Well, not only with women, just mostly with women," she
said, shaking her head at him. "What is it with you humans
and this strange obsession with categorizing your sexual
preferences?"

"I just--well, you know, um--"

"Are you saying you've never slept with another man before?"

"No! Yes! I mean, no! No, I have not! Only women! Lots of
women; well, a few women--not that there's anything wrong
with, y'know, but no--no, I'm definitely straight!"

"You have a lot of issues with sex, don't you?"

"I certainly do not!"

"It sounds like you do."

"I don't! I'm fine with people who are homosexual, but I
happen to...I'm comfortable in my...damn it, I like girls,
Girani! I don't have to justify it to you or anyone else!"
he said, his cheeks ablaze with embarrassment.

"Fine. I'm okay, you're okay. You just...do whatever it is
you like to do by yourself and I'll look elsewhere for what
I need." She headed for the door.

"Wait!"

"What is it now, Okuna?" Girani asked, turning around with a
sigh. "I believe you; you're a real ladies man, now can
I--?"

"Fuck it--let's go," he said with a stubborn set to his jaw.

"What?"

"I said let's do this," he repeated. "Sex. You and me. Your
place or mine?"

"You sure you can handle it?" she asked, approaching him
with a mocking grin. "I wouldn't want to--"

He reached out and pulled her into a rough embrace, kissing
her with all the enthusiasm he could muster. When they
surfaced for air he grinned down at her, taking in her
obvious surprise with no little amount of satisfaction. "I'm
ready if you are."

"Okay," she said after a moment's pause.

"After you," he said, watching the sway of her hips as she
led him into her bedroom.

---

Rupert Phlox was a man of weak character and little
personality. He was guided by his vices which were, although
prodigious, fairly common in the grand scheme of things.
Gambling, being his main addiction, was merely a gateway to
the others: sex, alcohol, and, most recently, drugs. He was
beginning to pop up at the golden dens more and more these
days to indulge in the shimmering vapors which many used to
escape their limited lives. A dependence on golden, given
Phlox's lack of fortitude, was inevitable.

As all of these pastimes were regulated by the Syndicate,
Phlox was well and truly in their grip. When they needed
him, all they had to do was withhold one or all of his
'hobbies' and he would do anything they asked of him. Gone
was the Nobel recipient whose theories reinvented the field
of microbiology; in his place was a sad, broken-down failure
of a man whose brilliance was only accessible if someone
coaxed it out of him by dangling a packet of golden or a
handful of gambling strips in front of him like a carrot.

But he was brilliant: of that there was no doubt, Sloan
thought as he watched him from across the room. Everything
was going just the way it was supposed to. Section 31,
always preferring to be ahead of the curve, had access to a
group of genetically engineered savants who informed them
some months back that the Dominion War was not only
inevitable but impossible to win. The key to stopping this,
they had said, was Bajor, the little nothing planet whose
only value to the Federation was the station located at the
mouth of the wormhole. If a war broke out they would either
be forced to go neutral or to submit to the Dominion. Either
way, the wormhole would be lost. and Cardassia would have no
choice but to join the Dominion as well. After that it was
just a matter of time before the Alpha Quadrant fell. The
only solution would be to remove either Bajor, Cardassia, or
both from the equation--which is where Phlox came in.

He'd invented the virus that Sloan had planted in the air
ducts of Tora Ziyal's quarters three months ago, figuring
both she and her father, Gul Dukat, would be infected.
Dukat, whose ship's communications had been regularly
intercepted by 31 operatives, had been discovered to be in
talks with the Dominion to take control of Cardassia. Had
all gone ahead as planned, both worlds would already be
neutralized, but his superiors had not anticipated that the
Founders already had an operative of their own in place.

Just three days prior to Dukat's planned visit with his
daughter, the Founder had revealed himself and was killed,
which led to Dukat going underground and therefore never
becoming exposed to the virus. A setback, yes, but not a
disaster. They had made contingency plans for such an event.

Bajor would be euthanized within the next few days and then
the Federation would destroy the wormhole as planned. With
no access to the Alpha Quadrant, the Dominion threat would
be neutralized, and the Cardassians would see the act of
destroying Bajor and the wormhole as reason to negotiate a
lasting peace. If not, then it would take very little
convincing to have the Federation put a stop to Cardassia
once and for all as well.

It was a risky plan, but one that had worked out (so far)
for the best. Originally they had planned to introduce a
similar virus to the Founders, but it hadn't panned out as
they had hoped. 31 had infected Odo with a mutagenic virus
some time ago but, instead of him passing it on to the other
shapeshifters, he had been reverted to solid form, which
made him no longer able to 'link' and therefore pass it on.
When the infant changeling 'cured' him, it had also somehow
destroyed the virus in his system as well.

No matter, Sloan thought. Personally he felt this was the
better plan of the two anyway; after all, merely taking out
the Founders still left the Vorta and the Jem'Hadar to deal
with. The big brains had theorized that without the
Founders, the Vorta and the Hadar would be unable to
function. Personally Sloan thought that was a load of
bullshit. The Vorta were, after all, the real threat. They
were the Hadar's true masters. Most of the Dominion's
soldiers had never even seen a Founder. The Vorta handled
everything: White production, overseeing the troops, even
the day-to-day business of controlling the Founders' empire
while their gelatinous masters swam around in their golden
sea. Without their gods to hinder them, the dickless little
bastards would probably unleash Armageddon on the Alpha
Quadrant in a heartbeat.

No, taking out Bajor was a much better plan. After all, it
wasn't like it was a major power with a real military force
protecting them--not one of their own anyway. Bajor had had
five years to join them and had steadfastly refused to do
so. The Federation's mollycoddling of them by restoring
their station and providing them with everything they needed
to survive would have gone on forever had someone not
stepped up and done something. It was all too obvious that
they were biding their time, just waiting for a better offer
from somewhere. If it weren't the Dominion it would
eventually be some other foreign power, and the Federation
would be in the same situation they were now--only instead
of going to war with the Dominion, it would be the Klingons
or the Romulans or some other previously unknown power.

Then there was the financial angle to the whole thing.
Taking Bajor out was not only strategically sound but
economically sound as well. No more Bajor meant no more
foreign aid and it would only take a few ships to get the
job done with virtually no major Federation losses. His
handler assured him that the same men and women at the UFP
who were moaning and wailing over the poor innocent
Bajorans' dire fate were also looking at the numbers with a
happy glint in their eye. After all, if you can win a war
without actually engaging another superpower in the process,
then the loss of a few farmers and a dilapidated wreck of a
station were more than acceptable. They could have a
state-of-the-art facility up and running within a few
months. Until then, they could set up a barebones way
station and move any survivors to Starbase 375. As far as
those in the know were concerned, the second he'd reported
back that the canister containing the virus had been
successfully planted, this was all a done deal. He'd even
heard that the Mars shipyards had already started building
the modular sections needed to construct the new station.

The plan was working; all that was left to do was to tie up
loose ends. They had gotten what they needed from Phlox, now
he just needed to be disposed of before he sobered up enough
to grow a conscience or before some clever brain back at
Headquarters connected the dots right back to his theories
and sent agents to collect him. They wanted the Federation
to come up with a cure, just not quite yet. Once Bajor was
neutralized, then they could figure out Phlox's riddle or
one of 31's eggheads would merely discover it 'by accident'
and that would be that. Until then it was his job to make
sure everything went according to schedule.

A pretty, half-naked, green-skinned cocktail waitress
brought him his drink, a coy seductive smile gracing her
lips. "Hello there, sweetheart," he said, taking both of the
martinis he had ordered from her tray. "See that man over
there?"

"Rupert?" she asked, looking over to where he was pointing.

"You know him?"

"Everyone knows him," she said dismissively, then gave him a
come-hither look. "He's not really my type, though. If
you're interested, I get off in half an hour."

"That sounds delightful," Sloan said with an appreciative
smile as he looked at her dark green aureoles which were
clearly visible beneath her sheer top. "But first, can you
let Rupert know I'm waiting for him at the bar?"

"Sure," she said, sidling up to him so he could smell her
perfume. "My name's Angel, by the way."

"It certainly is," he said with an even broader smile. "Now
go on and give old Rupert that message so you and I can get
down to business ourselves, okay Angel?"

"Okay." Her smile grew even brighter as he tossed a handful
of strips onto her tray. She made sure to give him a show as
she left by wiggling her tight little ass as she walked
toward the doctor.

It was turning out to be a very good day, Sloan thought,
appreciating the view. He quickly dropped a capsule into one
of the glasses, then waited for Phlox to join him for a
celebratory toast to a job well done.

---

Two hours after Rupert Phlox's body had been removed from
the gambling house's floor (the good doctor being the
apparent victim of a sudden heart attack brought on by an
overdose of golden), Sloan was celebrating his success with
an indulgence of his own.

He held 'Angel's' hips in a bruising grip as he pounded into
her. She cooed and whimpered as he drove his cock deep
inside, her slick juices running down his length and coating
his balls in liquid warmth. Orion women were the best, he
thought as he fucked her roughly. Made for sex, all they
wanted was to be fucked over and over again in any way they
could get it. He could do anything to her: fuck her in every
hole and in any position and she'd just burn for more. It
was the one thing he'd miss as he left this assignment
behind him.

He pinched and teased her hard nipples as he took her, her
hands gripping the metal railing of the stairwell. When he
felt the pressure in his balls begin to build and swell, he
reached for the back of her hair and pulled, causing her to
cry out in a combination of pleasure and pain. He forced her
neck to curve upward, her mouth hanging open in a silent
scream of ecstasy, then lunged forward, his cock hitting
bottom. As he abused her cervix he felt her vaginal muscles
tightening around him. He shifted his hips, increasing her
pleasure with a new, sweet friction, his balls still
slapping against her swollen clit. Her juices were flowing
like a river now, and when she screamed in her release he
let go as well, pleasure exploding in his brain. After he
emptied himself inside of her, he took a moment to look down
at the girl who slid out of his grip and onto the stairs so
she could catch her breath. Not bad for an old man, he
thought with a smirk, looking down at her heaving breasts
and the wetness of his completion which was now running down
her firm, young thighs. He had given her a good run, all
things considered. Sloan reached out for a handful of her
long, dark green hair and let it slide between his fingers.
Like green silk, he thought. Maybe he'd try to make it back
here sometime.

After wiping off his pubic area with a handkerchief and
buttoning up his pants, he pulled out a chip card and
pressed it into her hand. "Thanks Angel, I had a good time."

She got up from the stairs, looking at the golden chip worth
10,000 credits with wide, greedy eyes, then smiled up at
him. "My place isn't far from here. We could go there--no
charge."

"Thanks, but I have things to do," he said, straightening
his clothing and running a hand through his hair. "Don't
spend it all in one place, okay?"

She tilted her head up and kissed him then said, "Next time
you're in town remember to look me up, okay stranger?"

"You better believe I will," he said, smacking her on the
butt and causing her to yelp and grin before she moved off
toward the ladies' room to clean up. Nothing seemed to turn
him on more than taking another man's life. It was the
ultimate aphrodisiac.

He walked back into the gambling house, now relaxed and
feeling recharged. He'd enjoy himself for just a little
while longer before heading back to meet his handler in the
Alpha Quadrant. Maybe he'd pick up another couple of girls
and take them back to his room for a while before heading
back out. A job well done always left him feeling energized.

He sidled up to the bar, glancing over at the slot machine
where Phlox had met his bitter end with a sly smile. He
ordered an ice-cold pint of Orion beer and took a drink,
then motioned for the bartender to hand him a cigarette. He
hadn't smoked in years, the habit being illegal in most of
Federation space, but after a job he liked to indulge his
vices. After all, the good guys won, right? There was
nothing wrong with celebrating victory with a cold beer, a
hot woman, and a long drag off a cig made from real Orion
spiced tobacco. He popped the cig in his mouth and looked
around for a light.

"Here."

Sloan looked at the woman in front of him and smiled. She
was Orion, that was obvious from her emerald skin, but she
was older than his 'Angel' had been. More buxom and mature,
her hair was dyed an unnatural shade of bright red that set
off her complexion perfectly. "Thanks," he said, leaning in
to light up. The spicy scent, similar to cloves with a
slightly fruity undertone, filled the air as the Orion
tobacco began to burn.

"No problem," she said in a husky voice before ordering her
own drink. "Romulan Ale. Neat."

"Put it on my tab," he told the bartender.

"Why, thank you," she said with a slight smile.

"One good turn deserves another." He took a drag from his
cigarette then took a moment to appreciate the view. If
Angel was an appetizer, this woman was a steak dinner. Curvy
and soft, her sexuality seemed to smolder just under the
surface. Her outfit concealed much more than it revealed
which he found, for some reason, far more sexy than Angel's
in-your-face near nudity. "Do you work here?"

"At the club? No," she said, sipping her drink. "I'm just
visiting. Do you have another one of those?" She pointed to
his smoke.

"Bartender," he said, tossing a chip on the counter. He was
given a fresh pack from which he handed a cigarette to his
companion.

"Thanks again," she said. He took her lighter from her and
lit her cigarette, causing her to smile in amusement. "How
gallant."

"I have my moments," he said, handing it back to her.

"What's your name?"

"Greer. Wendell Greer," Sloan answered. "And you are?"

"Nadia." She took another puff before looking him up and
down. "You're human. Not many of your kind venture this far
out into Syndicate territory."

"I have some business acquaintances out here."

"Oh. What kind of business are you in, Mr. Greer?"

"Import/export," he answered easily.

She chuckled. "What a coincidence; that's the business I'm
in as well."

"Well, then, I suppose that makes us colleagues," he said
with a slow grin.

"So it does," she agreed, eyeing him appreciatively. "If
you're planning on taking that pack back with you to the
Alpha Quadrant I'd be careful. A business acquaintance of
mine got caught smuggling them in and is serving two years
in a Federation prison for his efforts."

"I doubt a broken up pack will rate me that much time."

"I always find it strange that your government considers
these," and she held up her smoke and glass of Romulan ale
up for a moment, "contraband worthy of imprisonment when
every one of your ships traveling our borders is loaded down
with both to restock some Starfleet Admiral's diminishing
supply."

"Allow us our little hypocrisies," Sloan replied. "It's the
only thing that makes living in the Federation's version of
Utopia tolerable."

"Hmm. Does your wife share your taste for the forbidden, Mr.
Greer?"

"I'm not married. At least not at the moment. If I were,
though, I'd like to think the woman I'd pick to share my bed
and my life would appreciate a little taste of forbidden
fruit every once in a while."

She laughed. "Oh, Mr. Greer, forgive me for saying so but
even though we've only just met I can already tell you are a
man whose appetite for the forbidden pleasures of all things
Orion can not be sated by a mere 'taste'." She drew a long,
manicured finger down the front of his shirt. "You strike me
as an all or nothing kind of person, much like myself."

"Are you saying you're a bad girl, Nadia?" Sloan asked in a
low voice.

"I'm not a girl, Mr. Greer. I'm a woman, and I'm not bad. I
happen to be very, very..." Her voice dropped to a husky
whisper as she leaned in close. "Good."

"If I may be so bold, do you, by any chance, indulge in any
business on the side, Nadia?" Sloan asked, feeling his ardor
rise once again.

"If you're asking if I'm a whore, the answer is no," she
said, not sounding the least bit offended as she put out her
cigarette in the ashtray on the bar. "When I take a lover I
do it because he or she interests me, not their money."

"And do I interest you, Nadia?" he asked, putting his smoke
out as well.

"As a matter of fact you do, Mr. Greer," Nadia said, her
deep red eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Shall we retire to somewhere more private then?" he asked,
offering her his arm.

"That's a rather presumptuous invitation, Mr. Greer."

"It's only presumptuous if you turn me down and I seriously
doubt you will," he said, not dropping his arm.

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because, like you said, we're both people who need more
than just a mere taste of temptation and," he said as he
looked her up and down slowly, "right now I'd like nothing
more than to take you somewhere more private so we can
better savor one another's company."

She chuckled. "An excellent point." She laid a delicate hand
on his arm and allowed him to lead her toward the exit. "My
ship is parked near here if you'd care to join me for a
bottle of very good wine," she said just as they walked out
into the cool night air.

"Sounds wonderful," he said. "But first..." He took her in
his arms, kissing her gently. She was sweet and warm:
womanly. He deepened their embrace, his hands pressing her
full curves closer to him.

When they broke apart she moaned against his lips. "Oh you
are an eager one, aren't you Mr. Sloan?"

"I'd like to think--" he started, then he pushed her away
roughly, reaching for his weapon.

But it was too late. Sloan felt something crack against his
skull and just before his world went dark he heard another
woman say, "I'll be damned. Works every time."

---

Garak's comm system chirped; he awoke from where he had been
napping on the couch to answer it. Momo appeared on screen,
a huge grin lighting up her face.

"It's done?" he asked.

//It was so easy, it was almost embarrassing.// Momo
chuckled. //No matter how big and tough they are, dangle a
piece of ass in front of them and they fall for it every
time.//

"Did you get his ship?"

//My girl is piloting it now,// she said. //Before you ask,
though, his ship was clean. Nadia went through his systems
with a fine-toothed comb but she hasn't been able to find
anything.//

"I suspected as much. If I were you, I'd dump it as quickly
as possible in case his handlers come looking."

//Already done,// Momo said. //Nadia is taking it to a guy I
know who will be more than happy to take it off our hands.
Hope you don't mind if I pocket the proceeds?//

"Consider it your payment for services rendered," Garak
said. "I need you to get here as soon as possible but do not
under any circumstances try to land."

//Got you. You are going to clear this with the Feddies,
right? I don't want them to light my ass up before I can
beam this piece of shit down to the surface.//

"You'll have the all clear," he promised. "When can you be
here?"

//Give me a few more hours. I'll comm you when I hit Bajoran
space. And Garak?//

He looked at her questioningly.

//It sure is nice to be working with you again. You know,
saving the day, fighting the good fight, and all that other
shit,// she said with a grin. //Life has been pretty damned
boring the last five and a half years without you.//

"I only wish I could say the same," Garak said, just before
logging off.

---

Okuna awoke to the uncomfortable sensation of someone
smacking him on the head repeatedly.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, shielding himself from further injury.
"Damn it, Girani!"

"Go...get me...the hypos...now." she said through gritted
teeth, her features drawn and pale.

"Hang on, I can't find my shorts," he said as he fumbled
around in the dark.

"Fuck your shorts--get me the hypos!" she snapped, grabbing
her head with a moan.

Okuna scrambled out of bed, cursing as he stubbed his toe,
and ran into the living area. As soon as he had the hypos he
headed back, automatically reaching for the light switch as
he entered the room.

"Turn it off!" Girani gasped, shutting her eyes against the
sudden brightness.

"Sorry." He waved them off again, making his way back to the
bed and pressing the first hypo against her throat.

She sighed in relief. "Haven't you ever had a hangover,
Okuna? There are rules, you know? Like never blinding
someone on the verge of puking their guts out."

"I said I was sorry." He pressed the second hypo to her
throat. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

"No pain? Nausea?" he asked, wishing he had grabbed his
tricorder when he got the hypos.

"I'm fine. I feel good, all things considered." She
stretched her muscles. "A little sore, maybe."

"What kind of soreness?" Okuna asked, going into doctor
mode.

"What kind do you think?" she shot back with a snort. "It's
been a while for me if you know what I mean. Prophets,
Okuna. Get your tricorder out of your ass and relax."

"Oh. Sorry," he said sheepishly.

Girani sat up in bed clutching the covers to her breasts and
grinning at him. "Not much on morning after conversation,
huh?"

"Uh, well..." He averted his eyes for a moment. "To tell you
the truth I'm not very experienced in the one night stand
department. Sad to say, I've been in a relationship with
everyone I've ever gone to bed with."

"Are you saying I'm just a one night stand to you?" Girani
asked in a hurt tone.

"Oh! Uh, no! Of course not!" he blurted out.

"I'm just fucking with you, Okuna," she said with a smirk.
"So to speak."

"Oh." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Christ, you really had
me going there for a minute."

"Of all the strange twists and turns life has thrown me, I
never in a million years would have thought I'd wind up in
bed with you, Okuna," she said, one eyebrow arched.

"Girani...I want to apologize for last night."

"Why?"

"Well, because...I took advantage of the situation and I
shouldn't have."

"Are you serious? I practically raped you and you're
apologizing to me?" She chuckled. "How green are you?"

"Well..."

"Get over yourself, Okuna. I'm a big girl and you did not
compromise my virtue by sleeping with me last night. My
'virtue' has been nonexistent since I was fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Okuna asked. "That's kind of young, isn't it?"

"Why? How old were you?"

"Uh, eighteen," he admitted reluctantly. "I was kind of a
late bloomer."

"Hmm," Girani said with a smirk. "You managed to catch up
all right though. Either that or your dabo girl taught you
well."

"So, you liked it then?" he asked.

"I liked it. You couldn't tell?"

"I assumed you did, but, uh, to tell you the truth I was
feeling a little intimidated so--"

"Let's just say you helped me get through a rough patch,"
she said, scooting down into the bed. "Now, if you don't
mind, we'd better try to get some sleep."

"You want to sleep?" Okuna asked in surprise.

"I did. Why?"

"I was just thinking that maybe..." He looked down at
himself pointedly.

Girani squinted in the low light and frowned. "Again?"

"Well, only if you wanted to."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight, why?"

"I'm just doing the math," she said faintly. "I haven't been
with a man in almost eight years and when I finally do try
to give it a go I wind up with someone who has the
constitution of a teenager."

"To be fair we haven't had sex in almost..." he looked at
the chrono, "two hours? That's a pretty decent turnaround if
you ask me."

"We've been on our feet for--"

"We're not on our feet now, Girani," Okuna said with a
wicked grin as he cut her off. "Although, if you want to
give it a try, I do some of my best moves in the shower."

"Fine, but you're going to wind up killing me." She threw
back the covers in an invitation.

"I'm good, Girani," Okuna said with a grin and he dove into
the bed, "but I'm not that good."

"What have I gotten myself into?" she muttered just before
Okuna took her into his arms once again.

---

Garak walked into the darkened ward and sought out Julian
who was busy logging charts.

"Has something happened?" Julian asked quietly.

"Can we go somewhere else to talk?"

Julian led Garak outside. As soon as the door was securely
fastened behind them Garak quickly debriefed him on what was
going on.

"We need to comm Figueiredo," Julian said as soon as he'd
finished speaking.

"Not until the ship carrying Sloan reaches Bajoran space,"
Garak said. "Just in case their comms are being monitored by
someone other than me, I want him close enough that he can't
be intercepted."

"So now what?" Julian asked impatiently.

"Now we wait."

"I'm getting sick and tired of waiting, Garak!" Julian burst
out. "If we don't get that cure soon this whole planet is
going to be--"

"I know," Garak said quietly, putting his hand on Julian's
shoulder. "Just be patient. Hopefully, in a few more hours
we'll have the man responsible for all this."

"Then what?" Julian asked. "Even if we get him here there's
still a chance he won't have what we need; what then?"

"Let's just take this one step at a time, doctor," Garak
said calmly. "Once he gets here I'll be able to determine if
he knows anything soon enough. If nothing else, he may
provide us with enough evidence to embarrass the Federation
into calling off their planned attack on Bajor for a while
at least."

"Do you think he'll really talk? If Section 31 is as
secretive as they seem to be he may be hard to break."

Garak's eyes went cold for a moment. "Perhaps, but no matter
how well-trained he may be, there are ways of making even
the strongest man break. You just have to know where to
push. I may not have been an interrogator for several years
but I have not forgotten how to do my job. If he truly does
not know anything, we shall find out soon enough."

"Garak..." Julian said, with a frown. "I know we need this
information, but perhaps you're not the best person to
conduct the interrogation."

"And why is that?"

"Because..." Julian struggled for a moment on how best to
phrase it. "Frankly Garak, you've changed. I don't know if
you could live with--"

"Doctor, forgive me, but you have no idea of what I can or
cannot live with," he said in a cool voice. "Wearing these
robes has not changed who or what I am. Those children--my
children--may die if we do not find this cure and soon. I am
not so removed from Cardassia that I have forgotten what
having a family means and what my duties are when it comes
to preserving their safety. I promise you, I will do
whatever I have to do."

"Except evacuate," Julian said before he could stop himself.

"Doctor--"

"No, I've been thinking about it," Julian said, cutting him
off. "If we don't get what we need from Sloan then we should
get your friend to beam as many of us as she can onto her
ship and go somewhere--anywhere--until we find a cure."

"What good would it do?" Garak asked, turning his back
toward him. "How many could we get out of Bajor without
anyone noticing?"

"We could get some of them out at least!" Julian insisted.
"We could go to some uninhabited planet somewhere; buy some
time!"

"Without equipment, food--"

"As a last resort, Garak! It's better than nothing!"

Garak turned to him, his eyes dark with some unspoken
emotion. "So we could watch them die slowly and in pain
rather than offer them a quick death?"

"I can't--I can't--" Julian shut his eyes and balled his
fists in frustration. "Damn it, I can't just wait to die
here, Garak! I can't just stand back and look at these
people knowing what's going to happen to them! Not when I
know that if I had enough time and the proper equipment I
could fix this!"

"I know what you're going through, doctor." Garak said
quietly.

"Of course you do; you're here, aren't you?" Julian said,
running his hand through his hair in frustration.

"No. I mean I know what it's like to look into the future
and see only death. I know what being powerless feels like."
Garak looked at him steadily. "After you've faced it enough
times you begin to realize that there is a certain calm
introspection that comes with acceptance."

"Fuck acceptance, Garak! And fuck the Prophets and all this
religious shite and everything that goes with it! I'm sick
of it!" He rounded on the Cardassian. "If these 'gods' of
yours were more than just some damned wormhole aliens then
they'd be here helping us! They would hand us the cure and
stop the Dominion all in one fell swoop! Aren't 'they'
supposed to care? Isn't that the whole point of your
conversion?"

"No," Garak said, stepping up to him and taking his arms in
a rough grip. He stared hard into Julian's eyes. "The point
of my 'conversion', as you call it, is that I needed to
believe in something and they were here--this place was here
when I needed it the most!"

"You could have tried asking me for help when you needed
it," Julian said. "You could have given me some time--

"You rejected--"

"No! Goddamn it, Garak, if we're going down let's at least
be honest with each other. You had five years to do
something and you didn't! I want to know once and for all
how you could change for him when you couldn't do it for me!
Why not me?" he asked, almost begging. He no longer cared
about trying to appear strong or maintaining a façade. If he
was going to die then he had to know. "What did the Founder
have that I didn't? Why was it so much easier for you to
trust him and everyone else than it was for you to trust me?
God! I was only gone three and a half months--that's all!
One minute you were Garak and when I returned you were a
whole different person! Why? How? How did he do this to
you--tell me!"

Garak relaxed his grip and stepped back. "I didn't--"

"You changed!" Julian insisted. "You became," and he gave a
humorless bark of laughter, "you became an officer in
Starfleet for him--in three months! You became a father, you
gained the respect of people who I worked with for five
years--five years! I spent five years getting to know those
people, working side by side with them, sharing time with
them, healing them and shedding blood with them! I thought I
had their respect--I thought they knew me, and yet they
couldn't even tell I was gone! In the last three months you
were down here all I heard from anyone is 'where's Garak?',
'have you spoken to Garak yet?', 'you two made such a
wonderful couple'! They still can't see me even after all
this time! Even now the goddamn shapeshifter seems more real
to them than I do! And as for you--you went from an exile to
a valued member of the team; of the entire community! How
did that happen?"

"I didn't change," Garak said finally. "I merely...evolved.
There is a difference between the two."

"Explain it to me," Julian said, moving closer to him.
"Explain it to me so I can 'evolve' as well. I really want
to, Garak; I want to be the kind of man who can make Elim
Garak love him so much that he's willing to become someone
else. I want to be just like you. I want to be the kind of
man that can make the whole world seem emptier if he's not
around."

Garak said nothing; he merely searched Julian's gaze with
his own, allowing him to see more than mere words could ever
impart. It suddenly dawned on him that at times, though they
were nearly the same height, in his mind Garak had seemed to
tower over him. He never really had, though, Julian thought
as he stared into the other man's pale blue eyes. They had
always been the same: he just never allowed himself to
acknowledge it before. They weren't the same in terms of
their backgrounds, or their races, or the life experiences
that had brought them to this point in time--but then, those
were just details, weren't they?

They might be different in many small ways, but they were
the same in that they were just flesh and blood and bone.
They were not the men each had created for the benefit of
the other. They were the same in that Garak needed him just
as much as he needed Garak. Neither was ever the tower of
solitude they wished the world to see. He stood there,
feeling truth strike at him like a bolt of lightning, more
naked and vulnerable than he had ever felt, but in his
vulnerability he also knew that he was not alone and
probably never had been.

For so long he had thought of Garak as some kind of mountain
to conquer, his past a mystery, his very presence almost
intimidating. Being friends with Elim Garak was for him like
petting a tamed tiger and waiting for it to bite back. It
had seemed thrilling and dangerous at the time, but it was
never real. Looking into the other man's eyes now, he no
longer saw the enigma that was Elim Garak. He saw the man.

Finally.

Garak cupped his chin in his hands and kissed him softly. It
was strange, Julian thought as Garak's lips brushed his. He
didn't feel what he thought he would at this moment. There
was no rush of sexual energy, no passion behind the kiss, it
was less a gesture of intimacy and more like an apology
passing between them. The kiss lingered and he melted into
the pressure of it. He apologized with an answering caress.
I'm sorry for never seeing you, he kissed. I'm sorry for
waiting so long. I'm so sorry I was too blind to appreciate
you and that it took so much to get us both here to realize
that.

He felt Garak's fingers skim his jaw line, testing the
roughness of his new beard. So sweet, Julian thought. Time
slowed and he allowed himself to breathe in the moment they
were creating together. He felt Garak's lips tremble and
hesitate, knowing the spell was about to be broken and
wishing differently. He followed Garak's light retreat,
willing him back. A last kiss was given; the slightly more
determined set of the other man's lips pronouncing it as
such. He began to miss him even before Garak pulled away.

"Why?" Julian asked, not really knowing himself what the
question was referring to.

"Because it was time," was all he said before he enfolded
him in his arms and kissed him again.

Julian dropped his hands to Garak's waist and pulled him
closer, their mouths gliding together with a familiarity
shared by long-time lovers. Their moment returned like an
answered prayer and Julian tasted the other man's lips
again. Why was the idea of this so nerve-wracking before?
Julian thought. He opened his mouth and traced the contours
of Garak's lips with his tongue. The other man gasped and
answered that caress with one of his own. Their tongues
dueled in an intimate dance.

Once, when Julian was very young and painfully
inexperienced, he'd read a book that said kissing was the
prelude to intimacy: the movements of your tongue should
reflect what it is your body longs to do. He'd laughed at it
then, but now he burned with the knowledge of what Garak's
kisses were communicating.

He penetrated Julian with his tongue, caressing him and
tasting his most intimate depths. The slide of their lips
was like the slide of skin against wet skin, lovers
entangled in an ancient dance. Garak's hands framed his
face, holding him there, and he could easily imagine those
hands holding his hips as they merged. He brought his hands
up to Garak's face as well, one hand sinking into the thick
black hair at the nape of his neck while his finger traced
the ridge that ran from the top of Garak's ear to a point on
his jaw line. The Cardassian shuddered and Julian imagined
his mouth following that line of flesh, teasing it with his
tongue as Garak writhed under him. Sweet torture. He moved
until their chests and groins touched and even through their
clothes they could feel one another.

It was insane. They were facing so much, but right now he
just needed--

"Dr. Bashir!" Perreira said, running out of the tent causing
them to pull apart hastily. "It's Ziyal!"

Julian hurried into the tent, vaguely aware that Garak was
following them. The spell was over and his ardor cooled as
though doused by a bucket of ice water. When he got to
Ziyal's biobed, Jake was in a panic.

"The alarms just started going off! I didn't know what to
do!"

Garak stepped up to pull Jake aside. "Come on, son. We have
to let the doctors do their work."

"I'm not leaving her!" Jake said pulling away from him.
"What's happening?!?"

Julian ignored him as he tried to get Ziyal stabilized. He
punched the commands into the neuroscanner, then cursed as
he saw what was happening on the screen. "Give me 2 ccs of
morphonolog and 5 ccs of pectrinal chloride!" He dropped the
stasis field as soon as Perreira handed him the hypo and
pressed it against Ziyal's throat.

"No change, doctor." Perreira said grimly.

"How's the fetus?" Julian asked, refilling the hypo to try
again.

"In distress."

"What does that mean?" Jake asked, struggling against the
hold Garak had on him.

"Garak, I need you to get him out of here now!" Julian
ordered.

"I'm not--!" Jake collapsed, falling into Garak's arms.

Perreira started forward but Garak stopped him. "He's merely
unconscious. I employed a Vulcan acupressure technique.
He'll be fine."

"Put him in a cot somewhere and page Girani," Julian said,
injecting Ziyal once again. "I need 20 ccs of prednisolone!"
He didn't look up as Garak carried the young man out of the
room.

"We're losing her," Perreira said, handing him the hypo. "Do
you want to try the synaptic stimulator?"

Julian focused on the images on the screen. "It's too late
for that," he said, setting the bio field for full life
support as he moved the scanner down to the fetus. "Put the
fetal monitor on her and then go find the specs for an
artificial womb. I have to go speak to Jake. If I'm not back
when Girani gets here, get her up to speed, then I want the
two of you to get started on modifying whatever equipment
you need to save this baby."

"Fuck," Perreira looked down at their patient. "They've only
been married two days."

"I know," Julian said grimly as he went to find Jake.

By the time Julian made it to Jake's bedside, he was just
beginning to stir. Girani rushed in and Julian silently
motioned for her to join Perreira in the back. When Jake
finally opened his eyes, he only had to take one look at
Julian's face to know what had happened.

"She's dead, isn't she?"

"I'm sorry," Julian said. "The nanovirus destroyed her brain
stem. There was nothing we could do."

Jake began to weep; Garak gathered him in his arms like he
would Lewin or Kela.

"We need to discuss--" Julian began.

"No, doctor. Not now." Garak said. "Go do whatever you need
to do. I'll take Jake over to the Temple until he's calm
enough to face this."

"All right." Julian watched sadly as Garak pulled the young
man to his feet and led him toward the small house of
worship.

"What happened?" Krath Milnar asked as he looked up from his
cot.

"Are you in pain?" Julian asked, finally noticing that the
Deputy Minister was awake.

"I'm fine. Did something happen to that boy's wife?" he
asked weakly.

Julian didn't answer him. "Ensign Perreira will be out in a
moment with your medication, Minister. Until then, try to
get some rest."

When he got to the scanning area, Girani was looking at the
readings on Ziyal's biobed and cursing under her breath. "I
should have been here. I should have insisted on taking the
first shift!"

"You couldn't have prevented this from happening, Girani.
None of us could," Julian said quietly. "The nanovirions
reached their final stage and did what they were programmed
to do. We had no way of stopping that process."

Girani's face crumpled in pain for just a moment before she
managed to get herself together. "What happened? Do we
know?"

"From what I can gather from the scans we took, as soon as
the nanovirions reached some sort of critical mass they
attacked her brain stem."

Girani looked at the readings from the fetal monitor. "We
need to transfer this baby and soon. Do we have any viable
surrogates?"

Julian shook his head. "All of the female monks are too old
or have undergone radical hysterectomies. I looked over all
of their medical records shortly after Jake and Ziyal
arrived as a precaution."

"I could do it," she said, looking up from the monitor. "You
could perform the procedure."

"We don't have enough time."

"We can keep Ziyal stable for at least two more days--"

"No Girani, it's too dangerous," he said. "We've had this
discussion before. I told you that in your case the best way
for us to proceed would be to clone another uterus, but
first we would have to repair all of the damage left behind
when you were...when your uterus was originally removed."

Perreira looked at Girani, the sympathy in his eyes obvious
as he realized what they were saying. "What about a
pseudosac instead?" he asked.

"We'd still have to go in and remove the scar tissue--"

"Not in Girani--what about Jake? He's the father; it's
possible, right?"

Julian shook his head. "Even if it were ethical given his
state of mind right now, we couldn't risk it. If the
nanovirus were somehow transferred to Jake during the
procedure, humans might become infected next and then there
really would be no stopping it."

"All right then; what about a pseudo sac in someone else?
One of the monks or one of us? Garak or even me?" Perreira
suggested.

"You'd agree to carry this baby?" Girani asked dubiously.

"If it meant saving it, then yes, absolutely," Perreira
answered.

"Not that it isn't a generous offer, Perreira, but use your
brain. If Jake couldn't carry it because he's human, neither
could you," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Right, sorry. I didn't get a lot of sleep," he said
sheepishly.

"You meant well," Julian said. "The idea you had about
having one of the monks carry the baby might work but for
the fact that most of the female monks who are still healthy
enough to carry it to term probably have the same problems
with scarring Girani does. During the Occupation when the
Cardassians had their female prisoners sterilized it wasn't
done under the best of circumstances by experienced
surgeons."

"To say the least," Girani murmured. "What about one of the
men? A hybrid or Bajoran?" she suggested in a stronger
voice.

"I'm sure one of them would agree if it meant saving the
life of the Emissary's grandchild, or any child for that
matter," he said, "but the hybrids who would be the best
match under the circumstances are too sick to undergo that
type or surgery and the purebloods, while not as sick, are
mostly elderly. This type of emergency surgery is a strain
on even the healthiest man. The sudden influx of artificial
hormones and the strain on their already compromised organs
could hurt them and the fetus both."

Perreira frowned. "All that's left then is an artificial
womb--but you already knew that, which is why you asked for
the specs right off."

"I had to have a contingency plan in case the worst
happened," Julian replied. "I made sure when the medical
replicators arrived that they were programmed with the
ability to produce the artificial womb. I didn't go ahead
and set one up simply because we didn't really have the
room, and I was hoping that since Ziyal seemed to be
improving we wouldn't need one."

"The fetus is only eight weeks gone," Girani said with a
scowl. "You can't transfer a fetus into an artificial womb
at less than 14 weeks gestation."

"It's all we've got."

"Julian, you can't just make up medical facts as you go
along--!"

"We'll make it work!" Julian insisted. "It's all we've got.
If we can't get this baby in an artificial womb it will
die--period."

"There are risks even under ideal circumstances, of which
these are not," she said in a hard tone. "A child of this
gestational age has less than a ten percent chance of
surviving the transfer and of that ten percent it only has a
one percent chance of being born without a defect of some
kind. We can not do this procedure without Jake's consent.
He may not want to risk bringing a profoundly disabled child
into this world."

"I know the numbers, Girani," Julian said, rubbing his eyes
tiredly. "I want you to stay here and monitor Ziyal and the
fetus. Perreira, you go wake up Okuna. Get him up to date as
quickly as you can, then put him on building the artificial
womb. He worked in a pediatric emergency ward on Earth
during his residency so he's probably more familiar with
them than anyone else here. Most of the pregnancies Girani
and I have handled were more run-of-the-mill and I've never
actually had to use an artificial womb before. Have you?" he
asked, turning to Girani.

"No," she admitted. "The O'Brien baby was the closest I've
ever come to even seeing part of that procedure. Yet another
reason why I don't like this idea."

"I'm the one who performed it then and even I'm not happy
about this, but it's all we've got." He turned to Perreira.
"After Okuna gets started on putting it together, I need you
to be on the floor. Krath Milnar is awake so chances are
everyone else will need to be sedated again as well. I want
to keep them under as long as we can. The less pain they're
in, the calmer they remain, the better. I'll go speak to
Jake. If he refuses to go through with the procedure then
all we've wasted is a little time. I'm fairly certain he'll
decide to take the risk."

They both nodded and Perreira headed out to find Okuna.
Before Julian could follow him, Girani called him back.

"Julian--if we can't put together the artificial womb in
time I want you to consider implanting the fetus in me."

"We've discussed this--"

"Not an ectopic pregnancy we haven't."

"That's because it would be far too dangerous, Girani.
You're an OB; you already know that!"

"A fifty percent chance is better than no chance at all,"
she said stubbornly. "I want to do this. It would be far
easier to give me the hormones than it would a man and even
without a uterus I would have a better chance of bringing
the fetus to term given the circumstances."

"Suicide is not an option," he told her.

"With modern--"

"We're stuck on Bajor in the middle of a goddamn makeshift
medical facility!" Julian pointed out forcefully. "I
appreciate your dedication, Girani, but I need you alive and
on your feet if we are *all* going to survive this. If that
means I have to make the decision to put this one child's
life aside in order to save the lives of the rest of us,
including you, then so be it! Understood?"

"Understood," she said tersely.

Julian nodded, then headed toward the Temple. The whole way
there he thought about what he had just said to Girani about
trading the life of Jake Sisko's child for the lives of the
rest of their patients.

For the greater good.

With each step he wondered if that made him any better than
the men who put them in this situation to begin with. The
answer he came up with did not settle well upon his soul.

---
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Life and Death
---

"You had sex with Girani!?!"

Okuna woke up with a snort to find himself staring up into
the accusing eyes of Adam Perreira. "What the fuck time is
it?" he asked in a sleep graveled voice.

"Screw the time--you had SEX with GIRANI!"

"It's not even four in the morning! Christ, Perreira!" Okuna
groaned, looking at his bedside chrono.

"Yeah, well, some shit went down and Doc Bashir sent me to
brief you. I'm surprised Girani didn't kick you with her
cloven hoofs when she hopped out of bed earlier."

"Well, I was pretty dead to the world--"

"I'll just bet!" Perreira snorted.

"Knock it off," Okuna groused, looking around for his
shorts. "You know, when you say shit like that you almost
come off like you're jealous or something."

"Jealous? Of you knocking boots with Girani?" He made a
gagging noise. "Don't even say that. It brings up all of
these horrible images."

"Knock it off." He sat up in bed. "She's not that bad."

"Not that bad? A few days ago you referred to her as the
'Wicked Bitch of Bajor' and today she's 'not so bad'? Oh
man, I knew when Alita dumped you it had to be a huge blow
to your self-esteem, but still! What happened to your
standards? Of both of us vowing to never, ever go there
under any circumstances? I am ashamed to call myself your
friend right now."

"Fuck off and hand me my shorts already." The aforementioned
clothing flew through the air with great force, and Okuna
sputtered as he got a faceful of previously worn underwear.
He pulled them off his face and said, "Thanks," before
tugging them on. "What's the skinny?"

"Ziyal didn't make it."

"Fuck." Okuna looked up at him. "I knew it was a long shot
when she fell into the coma but I was hoping....damn."

"We all were," Perreira said in a subdued voice. "Doc Bashir
and Girani have her on life support for now and the fetus is
still hanging on. They want you to put together an
artificial womb using the medical replicators Krath brought
with him."

"The fetus is only eight weeks along," Okuna said with a
frown as he walked out of Girani's room and into his own.

Perreira followed him, leaning on the doorjamb as Okuna
hastily dressed. "We already had this discussion. I even
offered to ruin my girlish figure instead but I got shut
down."

"That was stupid. If the virions were passed onto you during
the procedure--"

"Yeah, yeah--I've already heard it," he said with a scowl.
"A guy finally steps up to the plate to make a noble,
self-sacrificing gesture and all he gets for his efforts is
a lot of grief!"

"Nobody ever accused you of being more brains than beauty,
Perreira," Okuna retorted, sliding a sweater over his head
and reaching for his shoes. "Why didn't they just transfer
the fetus into Girani? That's a far safer procedure to
perform and Bashir's done it before."

A funny expression crossed Perreira's face. "You want me to
toss you a pair of socks or what?"

"Yeah." He caught them in mid-air and shoved his feet into
them. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Why didn't they just transport the fetus into Girani?"

"Look, you really need to ask your new booty buddy that
yourself," Perreira said, moving as if to leave. "You need
to meet her to go over the specs anyway. I have to go take
care of the patients. Their sedation is beginning to wear
off and after the news I just got I'm tempted to turn the
hypo on myself."

"No problem," Okuna said with a frown. "Hey! Before you go,
how's Jake?"

Perreira's expression was grim. "Man, how do you think?"

---

Jake sat in the hard wooden pew staring grimly at the quilt
hanging behind the altar. He had been married for two whole
days and he was already a widower.

After the tears had finally dried up, the anger inside of
him began to build instead. He wanted to scream, to hit
something, but all he could do was sit there and stare at
nothing.

Garak had brought him here and sat beside him as he
struggled with his grief. The Cardassian said nothing; he
just bowed his head as though he were praying.

"Why do you even bother?" Jake asked.

"Excuse me?" Garak said, looking up at him.

"Why are you praying? They aren't really gods. There is no
such thing as a god," Jake said harshly. "If there were then
Ziyal--Zee..." A sob caught in Jake's throat and he tried to
stop the rush of grief that came with it.

Garak laid his hand on his shoulder. "I wasn't praying, son.
I was remembering."

"Remembering what?"

"The grief that I felt when I was where you are right now."

"You were never where I am, Garak!" Jake spat out. "You
might have lost the Founder but you still have Dr.
Bashir--the real Dr. Bashir! You still have your children!
Ziyal's gone! My son is gone! They aren't on some goddamned
asteroid in the Gamma Quadrant!"

"I'm not referring to Julian or the children. I'm talking
about...about my wife, Anwen."

Jake stared at him in surprise. "You...you were married?"

Garak nodded. "Although until now I never thought of her as
my wife, but for all intents and purposes that's what she
was."

"On Cardassia?"

Garak shook his head. "No. She was Bajoran."

"Bajoran?" Jake frowned, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel
of his palms. "She was your comfort woman?"

Garak chuckled. "No. If anyone, myself especially, ever even
suggested to Anwen that she was a comfort woman she'd do
them permanent injury."

"I don't understand. How is that possible?"

"It was...we were living underground at the time," Garak
said quietly. "During the Occupation. She was in the
Resistance and I had made some very bad decisions which
forced me to seek shelter with her terrorist cell. As time
passed, we grew closer until one day she just decided that
we were going to be together from then on."

Despite his grief, or perhaps just to push it aside if only
for a moment, Jake asked, "She decided?"

"Anwen was a remarkably stubborn woman," Garak told him with
a soft smile. "I was resistant at first, but she wore me
down. During the Occupation there was no such thing as a
formal marriage, not between a Cardassian and a Bajoran
especially. We didn't have the kind of bonding ceremony you
and Ziyal shared. Our 'wedding' was just her letting the
others know where she stood, then moving her things to my
campfire. We lived that way for nearly a year."

"She died?"

Garak nodded. "She was pregnant with our child when it
happened. I never...I never even had the chance to be happy
about becoming a father. It was my own fault. You can't know
what it was like for us, for me, back then. Even now if a
Bajoran began a relationship with a Cardassian there would
be problems for them, but not like it used to be. She had
just told me she was pregnant and I got so angry with
her...I don't know if you and Ziyal were together long
enough to understand that kind of anger. Only someone you
truly love can possibly drive you that mad."

"Ziyal...Ziyal used to piss me off so bad when she would
freak out over her dad finding out about us." Jake felt the
tears course down his cheeks but he ignored them. "I've
never loved someone that much and been driven that crazy at
the same time, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean," Garak said kindly. "The
worst part was that I never had the chance to tell her
everything I should have told her when she was alive. I
never told her how much I loved her. I never even told
myself."

"You didn't?"

"Sitting here with you, right now, is the very first time
I've ever allowed myself to even say those words out loud as
a matter of fact."

"I told Zee I loved her a hundred times a day and look what
good it did me," Jake said bitterly.

"Allowing someone to know exactly how you feel about them is
a gift, Jake. Ziyal felt that every time you said those
words to her."

"That's bullshit!" he shouted, his anger suddenly returning
with a vengeance. "It doesn't matter anymore anyway! She's
dead! Our baby is dead! Our life together is gone and it's
all my fault!" Jake glared at him through angry tears.

"It wasn't your fault!"

"Yes it was! Everyone wondered how she got pregnant--I could
see it in their faces! I mean, it's just a shot every few
months, right? These things don't just happen anymore,
right?" His voice was low, hard. "You want to know how it
happened? It happened because I got her pregnant on purpose!
I wanted her to be with me so I stopped taking the shots! I
was a selfish prick and because of me she's dead!"

"No, Jake--"

"They said the pregnancy might have made her sicker--if I
hadn't done that she'd still be here!"

"Did you unleash the virus that killed her? Did you?" Garak
shot back. "Unless you can take credit for that, you didn't
kill her, Jake. I know what that guilt feels like and it
took me years to understand what you need to understand
right now--before you leave this temple! You did not kill
your wife! You may have made some poor choices, but the only
sin you are guilty of is being able to love someone without
limitations. That is a precious thing, Jake! Had my child
lived--" Garak's eyes filled with tears of his own and he
turned away quickly. "Had Anwen's child lived I only pray
that I would have been a good enough father to raise him to
be a man like you."

Jake pressed his forehead against the cold wood of the pew
in front of him. "I can't--I can't take this. I can't do
this by myself. I just can't."

"I know," Garak said softly.

"I keep...keep thinking it's just a bad dream and I'll wake
up in a minute. I keep thinking that she's just within my
reach; if I could just touch her then the nightmare would be
over." He choked up, his voice hitching as he spoke. "She's
not coming back, is she?"

"I'm afraid not, son."

"I don't understand," Jake said, shaking his head. "It
doesn't seem real. Medical science has come so far--we can
clone organs, create cybernetic limbs--how can Ziyal just
die? How is that even possible?"

"I don't know how to answer that. I wish I could, but I
can't. No more than I could tell you how I came to be
sitting with you in this pew. The only truth I can offer you
is that life is full of pain, and right now, what you are
experiencing: this is as bad as it gets. They say," and
Garak paused for a moment, "they say it gets better in time.
They say the pain fades away, but I won't lie to you. Years
from now it will still hurt, you'll still have dreams about
her. I still remember her face, her smell, the exact number
of freckles she had scattered across her nose. It doesn't
end. We take it all with us; the pain, the guilt, and the
memories of the person we loved. You may love again, marry,
have children, but she will always be there, Jake."

"So I have to spend the rest of my life living with a
ghost?" he spat out.

"Truthfully?" Garak nodded in the affirmative. "But you can
think of it as either a blessing or a curse. Ziyal loved
you, son. She loved you enough to fight everything her
father taught her about love. Gul Dukat treated his women
like they were his pampered pets. He gave them baubles and
soft beds then when he tired of them he discarded them with
a handful of latinum and a clean conscience because he
figured that he had done more than most by merely leaving
them in a slightly better circumstance then when he found
them. That's what Ziyal grew up thinking love was. You're
the one--the only one--who ever bothered to teach her any
different."

"You know the really stupid part?" Jake asked with a harsh
laugh. "Right now, more than anything, I just wish my dad
was here. How stupid is that?" he asked before his laughter
once again dissolved into painful sobs.

Garak pulled him in close and held him as the young man
sobbed into his chest. "It's not stupid to want your father
to be here, Jake. I can't--I can't even begin to pretend to
know what your father would say to you if he were here now.
I never had a father, not like yours, and although I am
trying to learn, I haven't really figured out what being a
parent means yet. I do know what it's like to feel the way
you feel right now though. I know what that pain in your
chest feels like. I know how much it hurts to even breathe.
I know, Prophets--I know how cold you feel--like you'll
never be warm ever again."

"Does it stop?" Jake cried out. "I just want it to stop!"

"Some day. Not today. Not for a long time," Garak said in a
low voice. "But eventually, after the years have worn it
down and enough time has passed, it settles into a small
ache and a scar that you'll wear as a reminder, but if you
are very, very lucky you'll find someone or something to
help take your mind off of it. You'll find your focus again
and you'll survive. You have to. If not then what is it
Ziyal died for?"

"She didn't die for anything!" Jake sobbed. "She's just
dead! Someone just killed her because they didn't care who
died! She was murdered for no reason!"

"She died trying to keep your son alive, Jake! She died
wanting nothing more than to be a part of you! If you follow
her then nothing of Ziyal will be left!"

"I just want her back--I just want her to come back," Jake
said, hugging Garak hard as though he were a small child.

"I know. I wish I could give her back to you but I can't,"
Garak told him. "I wish I could change a lot of things. I
wish I could have those last few moments with Anwen back so
I could be the man she wanted me to be, the man she
deserved. I wish I could go back and stop any of this from
ever happening, but wishing won't change anything. You can't
go back, just forward. That's the cruelest part of survival.
Men like you and I, men who know what it feels like to have
your life taken from you yet are forced to wake up every
morning and go on, have no other choice. We just have to
survive one breath at a time."

>From the shadows Julian listened to Garak's words as Jake
cried out in his pain. He had been there for a while, long
enough to finally understand who Anwen was and what she
meant to Garak. Earlier he had accused Garak of changing
himself for the Founder who had usurped his place; he now
understood why Garak had disagreed with him. He hadn't
changed, not really. He'd just been allowed the freedom to
be who he always was: imperfect, dedicated, grounded, but
still Garak all the same.

The same Garak who tortured Odo for information was just as
capable of offering comfort to a boy whose world was ending.
The same Garak who nearly killed him and an entire species
without so much as hesitating was the same man who had held
him as they kissed no more than an hour before. How one
could reconcile the two he did not know nor did he care.
Garak was merely Garak; whether he wore the cloak of a monk
or a tailor, a spy or a freedom fighter, a killer or a
father, he was still the same man. Why couldn't he see that
before now?

"I miss her," Jake said in a near whisper.

"So do I."

"My dad never cried after my mom died," Jake said, pulling
away from Garak and scrubbing at his face which was now
puffy and swollen from grief.

"Yes, he did," Garak said. "You just never saw him."

"Did you?" he asked roughly.

"For three days until I couldn't cry any longer. I just
touched her hair and grieved and wished I would die, but I
didn't. I never knew why until now."

"I don't believe in that 'everything happens for a reason'
crap. This didn't happen for a reason!"

"No. You're right. But we still have to get through it. You
still need to keep going."

"For Ziyal?" Jake snorted humorlessly.

"Yes," Garak answered.

"For Ziyal," Jake whispered, dropping his chin to his chest,
silent tears running down his cheeks.

Julian waited until Jake's tears slowed before approaching
him. "Jake."

"Oh. Hi, doc," Jake said, rubbing his eyes and clearing his
waterlogged throat hastily.

"I'm sorry to have to discuss this with you right now, but
we have to talk about what to do with the baby."

"What do you mean?" Jake asked, clearing his throat again
and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"Ziyal is on life support--"

"She's alive?" Jake cut him off, sitting up in surprise.
"Does this mean there's still a chance she can--?"

"No," Julian said with grim finality. "I'm sorry but Ziyal
is gone. She's brain dead."

Jake's face fell and Julian felt as though he had killed her
all over again. "Right. Sorry," Jake whispered, looking down
at the floor aimlessly.

"We're keeping her body alive so the baby can still have a
chance, but we need your permission to transfer him into an
artificial womb."

"The baby is still okay?" he asked, his attention returning
towards Julian.

"There are risks, Jake."

"If it means the baby will live, do whatever you need to
do."

"It's not that easy. The fetus--"

"Oscar," Jake corrected him. "Ziyal told me to name him
Oscar after my grandfather. It was important to her."

"Oscar," Julian replied in an even tone. "He is only eight
weeks along. Although eight weeks is significant in a
Bajoran pregnancy, he still has another ten weeks to gestate
before we would even consider delivering him. Normally the
earliest we would ever consider viable for transport into an
artificial womb is twelve to fourteen weeks gestation. What
we are suggesting is highly irregular and very experimental.
Okuna is attempting to compensate for the earlier gestation
point, but if we fail your son could die or be born with
profound birth defects and/or developmental delays."

"I see."

"I know this is hard, but if you don't want to risk it I
should tell you that most parents when given these odds
would choose to allow nature to take its course."

"Chief O'Brien's baby was only about eight weeks along and
he was human, right?" Jake asked.

"It's not the same thing. We don't have a living surrogate
to gestate the baby until term. A machine is only programmed
to do so much. We can compensate for the natural hormones
released during critical points in a normal Bajoran
pregnancy by introducing steroids and growth hormones, but a
machine can never take the place of a living host. We don't
know why babies do better in a real womb; they just do. I
promise you that if this is the way you want to go that my
team and I will do everything within our power to keep Oscar
alive and healthy."

"Do it," Jake said, his voice growing stronger.

"Are you sure you understand what I mean when I say the baby
could be born with profound disabilities?" Julian asked. "It
could be anything from physical deformities to severe delays
in his development. He may remain a child for the rest of
his, and your, life."

"He's my son. Mine and Ziyal's. No matter what happens, I'll
love him."

"Jake--"

"No! I understand what you're saying!" Jake said, cutting
him off. "I'll deal with it! If he can't walk then we'll get
him a hoverchair so he can race his friends down the
promenade. If he's blind, we'll get him a visor or ocular
implants so he can see. If he has a deformity of some sort
that can't be fixed, he'll still be beautiful because he'll
always be a part of Zee." Jake's voice hitched up at his
wife's name, but he cleared his throat and continued. "And
if he never grows up and stays a child forever then I'll
still always get to be his dad. I understand what you are
telling me, now just go save my son, please. I know--I know
Ziyal is gone, but if there is even a chance of saving this
baby, no matter what, I know it's what she would want us to
do."

"I'll let the others know of your decision." Julian nodded.
"As soon as the womb is ready we'll come get you so you can
be there when it happens."

"And Ziyal?" Jake asked.

"After the transfer is complete, we'll turn off her life
support."

"And then she'll be..." Jake shut his eyes.

"And then her body will be, yes."

"I'll be there," he said after a moment.

"We'll come get you as soon as we're ready."

As Garak placed a comforting hand on Jake's shoulder, his
and Julian's eyes met. Only they knew that saving the baby
would probably be an act of futility. Unless this Sloan gave
them the answers they needed, Ziyal's death would only be
the first of many.

---

Okuna walked into the medical scanning room and paused for a
moment at Ziyal's bedside. "Damn. She was so young..."

Girani looked up from her PADD and nodded. Her eyes held a
haunted look. "I really thought we were going to pull this
one off. Oh well, win some lose some, right?"

"Girani, it's okay to be upset about losing a patient--"

"I know that!" Girani snapped, tossing her PADD onto the
desk. "This isn't the first time I've had a patient die on
me, Okuna." Despite her words, her hands trembled slightly
as she looked at the too still form lying in the biobed.

"But this one got to you, didn't she?" he asked in a low
voice.

"Yeah." She shook her head. "It's stupid--I should know
better--"

Okuna placed his hand on her cheek. "The day you stop caring
is the day you should hang it up. You have nothing to be
sorry for."

Girani cleared her throat and moved away from his caress.
"We still have a baby to save. Did Perreira brief you?"

Okuna placed aside the sudden pang of hurt he felt by her
rejection and focused instead on the business at hand.
"Bashir wants us to build an artificial womb, I got it. I
just don't understand why we don't go the safer route and
use a living surrogate."

"No viable candidates," she answered shortly. "I made some
notes on a PADD as to how we might compensate for the
earlier gestational stage of the fetus. My only concerns are
that introducing the fetus into an artificial environment
combined with the steroids he'll need to jump start his lung
development might induce a cytokine storm like the one the
rest of the patients experienced. Plus, if this really is a
'smart virus' it may sense that the baby has switched
environments and activate itself. So far the virus has
remained dormant in the baby's system but--"

"Yeah, got you," Okuna said, taking the PADD from her and
reading her notes. "When I was working in the NICU at the
Stollery Children's Hospital on Earth we had a neonatologist
there who was doing some really revolutionary work with
fetal stasis units and artificial wombs. What we could do is
instead of using the preprogrammed fetal environment in the
A.W., we could program it to mimic what the baby would hear
and experience if it were in a living womb. It's sort of the
same thing as programming the machine to act as Ziyal's
clone."

"Do we have time for that?"

"Maybe. It's still a risk. His theories still haven't been
proven, but it may give us a chance. Most of these machines
are considered stopgap care; a couple of weeks, no more than
four, just long enough to complete lung development. Using
it continuously for ten weeks is going to be problematic no
matter what. If we take some of the key elements of a
holoemitter and a medical replicator and combine it with the
artificial womb, the machine may be able to keep up with the
rapid chemical shifts present in a Bajoran pregnancy while
providing the rest of the womb experience for the
fetus--heartbeat, ambient noise, and movement. This doctor I
was speaking of, Dr. Emile, he believed that the reason
artificial wombs are less successful than surrogate care was
because of the lack of stimulation the fetus received."

"Makes sense," Girani said with a nod. "Can you do it in the
time we have?"

"I can. In fact I can have it done in a day or so if either
you or Perreira can give me a hand. I can send a message to
the Stollery in Alberta and get them to send me the
programs. It's better than nothing." He looked up at Girani.
"It's none of my business, but why didn't you volunteer to
carry the fetus?"

"I did," she said. "Dr. Bashir decided it was too risky."

"Why? It would be much safer than--"

"Okuna--" She cut him off with a sigh. "Look, the reason I'm
not a viable candidate is because during the Occupation I
had a hysterectomy."

"What?" His shock must have been written all over his face
because she averted her eyes as she spoke.

"When I was fourteen I was taken into a Gul's harem like a
lot of other girls in my village were. Gul Nekt was
very...'meticulous' about how he kept his women and slaves.
After he--" She licked her lips. "After I was made a part of
his household, he had me sterilized. He didn't want any
half-breeds to deal with. The doctor he had on staff didn't
really care about things like scarring. In order to receive
a cloned uterus I would have to have the remnants of the
first operation corrected and recover, then I could have my
uterus replaced. He left my ovaries so I don't have to worry
about that, but it would take at least a few weeks to do it
right and we don't have the time or the resources. I'd also
have to be on bed rest followed by restricted duty and since
we're so completely overwhelmed as it is, combined with the
effects of the virus on my system--"

"I understand," Okuna said quietly. "Why didn't you tell me
about what happened to you before?"

"Why would I have?" she asked with a frown.

"Well, last night--"

"We had sex, Okuna," she said, rolling her eyes. "It was
what it was; don't try to read anymore into it than that. I
didn't approach you because I wanted a relationship, I just
wanted an orgasm. You provided it and got something out of
it in the process. Let's just leave it at that."

"I wasn't referring to the sex, Girani. I agree with you
totally on that score," he said, schooling his features into
a mask of cool disregard. "I just meant, as a physician
working on this case, it would have been nice to have all of
the facts. You told me that you were in the early planning
stages of a pregnancy of your own so I naturally assumed you
were a viable surrogate. Had I known that wasn't the case I
could have started this work last night or even earlier. It
might have even been a good idea to begin the build on the
modified A.W. as soon as Ziyal went into a coma so we could
have taken some of the strain off of her system."

"I'm sorry, I--" Girani began, looking slightly taken aback.

He shook his head. "No," he said, "don't apologize. It can't
be helped and it's my own fault for not speaking up and
asking you about the possibility earlier." He headed for the
door, picking up the PADD from the desk, and pasted on a
friendly smile for her benefit. "I'd better get moving on
this. If you see Perreira before I do let him know I need
him, okay?"

Girani gave him a strange look. "Of course. I'll comm you if
anything happens."

"Thanks."

You dumb shit, he thought as he walked toward the comm unit.
Of course it was just a fuck. Grow up and get over it.
Girani is way out of your league and always has been. You
have to stop this habit of falling for women who don't
really want you.

After he was gone Girani stared at the closed door for a
long time, her unhappy expression mirroring that of Okuna's
perfectly.

---

"MacKelroy's starting to feel froggy again," Marquez said as
he ate his breakfast. "He's gotten enough of his backbone
back that now he's screaming for legal representation."

"Let him." Captain Figueiredo snorted and tasted her eggs.
"Meu amor, pass me the salt?"

Alvaro handed her the small shaker and frowned. "Are you two
sure that you're approaching this thing the right way? This
MacKelroy is going to file a formal complaint the minute
this ship docks at the next port and then both of you are
going to be looking for new careers."

"What? You wouldn't support me if I was unemployed?" Fig
asked as she bit into her breakfast.

Alvaro looked at her askance. "I'm an artist; you're the one
who has been keeping me in paint all these years, remember?"

"I thought your paintings were selling really well lately,
Alvaro," Marquez said. "Didn't you just have a show
recently?"

"At the National Gallery back on Earth," Fig answered for
him. "The critics loved him and he sold six new paintings.
I'm married to an artistic genius." She winked at her
husband.

"That's great!" Roberto said, grinning at him. "You know, my
sister just had another baby. I know you do mostly
starscapes and stuff, but do you think you--"

"Roberto, Gabriella--I have been a Starfleet widower long
enough to know when I'm being stonewalled," Alvaro said,
looking slightly annoyed. "Stop trying to leave me out of
the loop on this. What's going on? Why are you both risking
your careers by screwing with this MacKelroy guy?"

Fig put down her fork. "Alvaro, it's classified. You know
that."

Alvaro looked around the room pointedly. "We're in the
Captain's dining room, it's just the three of us here now. I
know when something is up. This started out as a regular
mission and all of the sudden you, Roberto, and Xerk are
conspiring together and beating the crap out of your fellow
officers! I don't need to know all of the details, but I am
curious as to why my wife, who has spent all of her adult
life building a career she loves, is suddenly willing to
toss all of it away. I think I am entitled to know that
much, don't you?"

"Should I leave?" Roberto asked in a low voice.

Fig looked at him apologetically and nodded. After Marquez
had left, she turned to her husband. "Alvaro--"

"Don't," he said. "Don't hand me the line about you having
your orders and all that other merda! Tell me the truth. I
want to know what's so important that you and your two most
senior officers are willing to chuck everything you've ever
worked for out of the nearest airlock."

Captain Figueiredo looked at her husband and shook her head.
"I can't, Alvaro. Not yet."

"Gabriela," he said, "I know you have a job to do and I know
that I can't always be in the know, but this is different. I
know it and you know it."

"It's complicated."

"It's always complicated!" he burst out.

"Alvaro--"

"No, Gabriela," he stopped her. "I have been your husband
for ten years; I left Earth for you, I agreed to put off
starting a family so you could follow Gilhouley when he took
over the task force, I've given up everything to be here
with you and I have never asked you for anything. I know you
have to keep secrets sometimes and I have accepted that, but
now I want to know what's going on."

"I promised Gilhouley--" she began.

"Fuck Gilhouley!" Alvaro shouted. "I'm your husband, not
him!"

"Don't start, Alvaro."

"Start what?"

"You know what!" Fig said, beginning to lose her temper as
well. "Whenever we start this argument you always start
slinging around Gilhouley's name like he's to blame for
everything that goes wrong in our marriage!"

"I don't always bring him up, you do! That's the problem! I
want to know what is going on with you because it affects
our life, Gabriella--*our* life! And when I bring up *our*
life together, Fitz Gilhouley's name always comes up in the
conversation! I'm tired of having to compete for your
attention and always losing!"

"Goddamn it, it is too early for this crap!" she cried. "Why
are we rehashing this yet again? Why is it every few months
you find the need to--"

"I bring it up because every time I try to have a serious
discussion with you, you run and hide behind Fitz Gilhouley
like he's some damned 'get out of marriage for free' card!"
Alvaro shot back. "You finally say you're taking a posting
at the Academy so we can settle down and start a real life
and Gilhouley drags us to Mars instead! I finally get you to
discuss having a baby and Gilhouley gets his promotion and
asks you to join this task force so you put that off! I ask
you to come with me to Earth for my first showing in four
years--*four years*--and you bail on me because Gilhouley
calls you less than an hour before we're supposed to depart
so you run off to Bajor instead! Every time, Gabriella! Not
just once or twice, but every time!"

"I'm an officer in Starfleet! I have to follow the orders
I'm given!" Fig said, her face red. "It's my job; what do
you expect me to do? Say no?"

"I expect you to take a pass every once in a while,
Gabriela. Not every time, just when it's important! Don't
tell me that's not possible either--Abramson does it. He
makes sure to be there when his kids and grandkids need him,
he managed to have a career *and* a family--"

"First off, Butch isn't a captain on his first command! I've
only been captain for a few years; I'm still building a
reputation! If I don't work my ass off and prove I have what
it takes every single day, I'll lose momentum! You knew when
you married me what my goals were! Secondly, Butch is a
man--"

"What difference does that make?"

"Excuse me?" Figueiredo said with a disbelieving bark of
laughter. "It makes a hell of a lot of difference! How many
female captains do you know in my position?"

"There are plenty of female captains in Starfleet!"

"Yes, there are lots and lots of female captains! They head
up medical ships and science vessels, and the occasional
Galaxy class vessel, but how many of them command in deep
space in a forward area or belong to a battle-ready task
force? Not a lot! The fact that Fitz Gilhouley asked me to
take this job says something--it means something! Why can't
you see that?"

"Yeah, it says something," Alvaro agreed with a dark scowl.
"It says that you, Abramson, and Gilhouley are still the
three musketeers; always ready to cowboy up and ride balls
out into whatever action is out there! Great, good for you,
but let me ask you something: When should I expect you to
stop being Gilhouley's go-to girl and start being my wife?
When are you going to show me a tenth of the loyalty you
show him, because I'm really curious about when that's going
to happen! I realize that I'm not apart of your little
Starfleet club, but I assumed that when I married you it
entitled me to a little of your time and your trust!"

"What do you want me to say? You feel out of the loop and
unloved so therefore I should just give up my career and
make babies?" Fig asked angrily. "Yes, Alvaro! I don't give
you enough attention so excuse me while I just give up the
opportunity of a lifetime so I can watch you have the life
you want while I change diapers and make formula all day?"

"I never said you should quit, did I? I said I would be a
stay-at-home dad--I said that a million times! You wouldn't
have to change anything!"

"Bullshit! Are you going to carry the baby, too? No. No, I
don't see that happening, do you? And how are we going to
raise a child on a battleship, Alvaro? Do you honestly think
I would drag a child into this kind of life?"

"Then take another posting somewhere!"

"No! I worked hard to be where I am!"

"Fine. Your career is so important that I come second, our
marriage comes second, our child--well, a baby doesn't even
rate third place in your plans--and yet you would risk
everything you say is so important to you by ordering your
men to torture some guy and I can't know why? That's
bullshit!"

"Don't you think I would tell you if I could?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I really don't. Most of the time I
fell like if you could get away with it you wouldn't talk to
me at all. I feel like a goddamn pet most of the time! I'm
there to greet you when your shift ends, rub your feet,
bring you your lunch, warm your bed, but God forbid you
should ever have a real conversation with me about things
that matter! Things that affect our life together! I have
put enough time into our relationship that I should have
earned at least some of your loyalty and trust by now!
Goddamn it! I'm not asking you to divulge any Federation
secrets, I just want to know what the hell is going on!"

"Gilhouley--"

"No more!" Alvaro said, throwing up his hands in anger. "I'm
sick of sharing my marriage with your precious Admiral
Gilhouley! For once, just talk to me without bringing him
up!"

Fig got up from her chair. "I'm leaving. I don't have the
time or the patience to put up with your jealousy, Alvaro!
What? Do you think that I'm fucking him or something? Is
that what you're saying, because it sure as hell feels like
it!"

"No! That's not what this is about!" Alvaro got to his feet
as well. "I trust you and I know that you have no interest
in Gilhouley in that way, but this is not about me being
jealous because I think you want to sleep with him. Hell, if
all this was about was some unresolved sexual tension
between the two of you, I would be able to handle that! That
I could compete with! But this isn't about sex--you trust
him more than you do me and it's not because of your job or
the fact that he's your boss! It's always been this way;
you've always picked him, picked the job, over me. I'm sick
and tired of coming in second all the time. It's my turn,
Gabriella! I just want you to choose me, see things from my
perspective just once. I know you have a job to do, but this
isn't just about following orders--something more than that
is going on! I want to know what it is before it hurts you.
Can't you see that?" His voice lowered as he began to plead
with her. "I love you. You are my universe. Your job is to
protect the Alpha Quadrant, but my job is to protect
*you*--to protect *us*. Something is going on, I can sense
it, I know it; stop trying to shut me out and talk to me."

"Damn it, Alvaro..." Fig sighed and sat back down slowly.
"It's not that--"

//Captain?//

Fig's mouth tightened in annoyance and she slapped her comm
badge. "Yes?"

//You have an emergency comm from Bajor. Should I put it
through?//

"Go ahead." She looked at her husband apologetically. "I
have to get this."

"I know." Alvaro said, anger adding a bite to his words as
he picked up his plate and headed for the door.

"Alvaro--"

"When you decide to let me in, Gabriella, you know where
I'll be."

"That's not--" Alvaro walked out the door and she stared
after him. "--fair. Fuck." Fig tossed her napkin beside her
plate and walked over to the comm system on the wall,
switching it on with a punch of a finger.

//Captain Figueiredo.//

"Brother Elim, right?" she said in surprise. "How can I help
you?"

//I have an associate coming to transport down a package
from her ship. I need you to provide her with clearance to
do so.//

"I'm sorry, but right now we need to enforce a strict
quarantine. No ships are being allowed to get within
transporter range of Bajor. If you need supplies, I'm sure
we can--"

//It isn't supplies, captain. It's something much more
important than blankets and emergency rations, I assure
you.//

"More medical personnel? I know you need help, but we
absolutely cannot risk anyone else catching this infection."

//It isn't medical personnel.//

"I'm sorry, but I really don't have time to play twenty
questions right now. The answer is no, Brother Elim. Now if
you need anything else contact--"

//Don't end this comm, Captain. Not unless you want to allow
Sloan to slip through both our hands.//

"Excuse me?" Fig's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

//My associate managed to capture Agent Sloan and transport
him here to Bajoran space with the cooperation of the
Idanian authorities. I am telling you this because I wish to
interrogate him here on Bajoran soil and I need you to
authorize the ship carrying him to enter Bajoran space and
transport him to the planet's surface.//

"How did you--?" she began.

//How I found out about Sloan is unimportant,// the
Cardassian said in a cool tone. //The information he carries
is of value to us both. Allow him to be transported down so
I can retrieve the information we need to stop this virus
before the situation escalates.//

Fig's jaw clenched as she reassessed the situation. "I had
heard you were quite good at what you did when you worked
for Captain Sisko, but given the circumstances I believe it
would be best if Starfleet took over this investigation from
here on out."

//Captain, your government would rather see us all dead and
buried than allow the fact that agents working for the
Federation unleashed this virus upon Bajor deliberately,//
Garak said in a matter-of-fact tone. //You and I both know
that we are under a timetable and as effective as your
officers were in interrogating Commander MacKelroy, I
seriously doubt they have the necessary experience it would
require to break a seasoned agent like Sloan.//

"How did you know about that?" she demanded.

//I have my ways,//he said evenly. //We had our first
fatality from this disease last night. More will die unless
we stop it. If you do not help us do this, Captain, then you
are no better than the enemy who placed us in this position
to begin with. As such, we will then have no choice but take
action against you and your crew so that we may defend
ourselves and try to save our people.//

"I seriously doubt that you are in any position to--"

//Captain, as of now no one within the Bajoran government or
within the general population is aware that the Federation
is planning on destroying Bajor. Unless you authorize this
transport, my associates are prepared to have your press
issue the news of what Section 31 is attempting to do and
why the United Federation of Planets is planning a closed
door session of the General Assembly following the end of
the summit talks. Additionally, there are allies of the
Bajoran people willing to protect its space from any attacks
launched by your vessel. They are poised to intercept
Captain Abramson's ship even now and, if necessary, Major
Kira will order the station to lock on to your position and
is fully prepared to take you down unless you comply.//

Figueiredo examined the Cardassian's expression carefully.
"You're bluffing."

//Perhaps,// he said. //But if I am not, Bajorans will not
be the only ones to die today. Are you willing to risk that?
And even if you are right and I am bluffing, how do you
think it will reflect on your government when the press
reports that a Federation vessel locked its weapons on a
Bajoran orphanage filled with sick and dying children while
trying to cover up a conspiracy? That conspiracy being, of
course, that agents from your own government attempted to
commit genocide on a people who consider themselves to be
your allies just so you could gain absolute control over the
wormhole.// He smiled coldly.

She stood there silently and allowed his words to penetrate
for a moment. "I'm listening."

//As I see it, we're on the same side, Captain,// Garak
said. //You don't want to be the one to hand Bajor a death
sentence any more than we want to die. Let me interrogate
Sloan so we can end this before that order comes down taking
the decision out of both of our hands.//

"And if you can't get the cure in time?" she asked.

//Then we will accept our fate.// he said simply.

"Why don't I believe you?"

//Like I said, as of now only a chosen few are aware of what
is happening. I know just as you do that this virus must not
be allowed to mutate again. If I cannot break Sloan then our
fate was sealed long ago. But, if I can get something from
him, perhaps we can find another way to deal with this.
Continue with the quarantine, just approve the transport and
let me try.//

"For a monk, you certainly have a knack for negotiation,"
she said at last. "I'll authorize the transport, but I will
be monitoring it from here. If more than one person is
beamed down or if our sensors detect that you are attempting
to evacuate the monastery, I will fire upon your position."

//Understood,// Garak said before signing off.

She stared at the darkened screen. "This is already turning
out to be a really shitty day," she muttered.

---

Julian was in the medical tent with Girani preparing Ziyal
for the procedure when Garak walked through the door, his
expression grim.

"Where's Jake?" he asked.

"Reven is looking after him. May we speak in private?"

"Certainly. Keep her stabilized as best you can until Okuna
and Perreira are finished making the modifications to the
artificial womb," he said to Girani.

"I can give them a couple of hours--maybe--but if the fetus
begins to distress again..." she said.

"Just try. I'll see what I can do to help hurry up Okuna
after I get through with Garak."

He followed Garak out of the medical tent and to his cabin,
not speaking until he shut the door behind him. "Did you
talk to Figueiredo?"

"She approved the transport, but it took some convincing
along with a bit of creative dissemblance on my part."

"In other words you lied to her. What did you say?"

"I told her that Major Kira would blast her ship out of
orbit if she didn't agree."

Julian's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's...you're damn
lucky she bought that."

"It was a calculated risk. We have nothing to lose by doing
so and she knew it. The odds were on my side that she'd
believe me."

"How do you figure?"

"Was it not the Terran author Scott Love who once said,
'Only the most foolish of mice would think to hide in a
cat's ear, but only the wisest of cats would think to look
there'?"

"You remembered that?" Julian asked in surprise.

"I remember all of our conversations, doctor," Garak
admitted. "And, despite the fact that almost all of your
novels and music are simply drowning in over-the-top
sentimental nonsense, a few of your literary recommendations
were...adequate."

"Despite that underwhelming praise, I'm touched." Julian
grinned. "What are you planning to do if Figueiredo
confronts Kira?"

"Why would she? Given recent events I seriously doubt she'd
want to start an open dialogue with the Major. In any case,
the actual lie itself isn't important. She just needed an
excuse to relent and I gave it to her. Captain Figueiredo
isn't going to--how do you call it?--'look a gift horse in
the mouth'. My lie gave her the excuse she was looking for
to break from her orders and help us. Did you prepare the
medications I asked for?"

"I have them. Garak, I want to be in on the interrogation,"
Julian said as he looked him in the eye steadfastly.

"I don't think that's a good idea--"

"If he has medical information to give us, I need to be
there. You won't be able to tell if he's lying or not," he
argued. "Plus, I can administer the meds you need to make
him talk. You might accidentally give him an overdose--"

"This isn't my first interrogation, doctor," Garak said in
annoyance.

"And I'm not as naďve as you apparently think I am. I know
you think I can't handle seeing you interrogate Sloan, but
you're wrong," Julian shot back. "I do know all too well
what you may have to do to get what we need from him."

"This isn't one of your holofantasies--"

"Keeping me out would be counterproductive to getting what
we need out of him!" Julian insisted. "Yes, I am a doctor
and I believe in the preservation of life, but I'm also a
soldier. No matter how far you have to take the
interrogation, I want to be there. I need to be able to ask
the right questions and interpret the information he gives
us."

"You may think you know what may happen, but do you really?"
Garak asked, his voice growing cold as he advanced on him,
his expression almost frightening in its intensity. "Real
blood, doctor--real pain! And if it comes to it, real death.
There is no going back once you enter that room. If Sloan
even thinks there is a chance that we're weakening he'll
never give us the information we need."

"I'm not the eager young doctor you met five years ago,"
Julian stated in a hard tone. "I have killed, Garak. I have
taken lives in defense of the station and my fellow
officers. My hands are not lily white or untouched by
violence! Do your worst, Garak; I won't flinch or utter a
word in his defense. I promise you I will not be feeling any
sympathy for the man who murdered my patient and who tried
to murder an entire planet! If it saves lives, I would
gladly take your place as his torturer, and God help him if
I do because I doubt I could show the restraint you
undoubtedly will." Julian looked him in the eye, silently
challenging him to contradict his statement.

Garak met his gaze before nodding his head slowly. "No, I
suppose you aren't the young man I met all those years ago,"
he agreed, his tone somewhat subdued.

"I need to be there," Julian repeated.

"The ship will be here in an hour," he said. "By then, the
medication he was administered should be wearing off. I want
to put him in the wine cellar until after Ziyal's child is
transferred to the artificial womb. Jake may need me to
stand with him after her life support is turned off."

"Do you want me to sedate Sloan?"

"No. I want him awake when we interrogate him."

"We?" Julian asked. "You're letting me assist you?"

"You had a point when you said you needed to be there if we
are to ascertain that he's telling the truth," Garak said,
his attitude one of resigned acceptance. "My medical
knowledge is extremely limited compared to your own."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, doctor," Garak said. "I'm not doing you any
favors by allowing this. Sloan is a trained operative. He
knows how to compartmentalize his pain and how to resist
drugs. This will not be pleasant and after today you may
never be able to see yourself--either of us--in the same way
ever again."

"No matter what happens in there, you aren't going to scare
me away," he said. "Not from the interrogation or from you.
I still intend to pursue what we have after this is all
over. I know who you are now, Garak. No matter what else
happens, no matter what I see, that won't change."

"We'll see."

---

It was barely an hour later when Julian found himself
standing with Garak in the bottling area of the monastery's
wine house. A shimmering light appeared in the center of the
room and solidified until it took the form of a restrained
and gagged human, his still hazy eyes taking in his
surroundings as he struggled hopelessly against his bonds.

"Ah, Mr. Sloan," Garak said with a triumphant grin, "allow
me to be the first to welcome you to Bajor."

---

"Are you quite certain that the paralytic you gave him will
last until after the procedure?"

Julian nodded. "Until I give him the antidote, he won't be
able to move a muscle and the apparatus I placed on him will
alert my comm badge if his respiration changes or if he
tries to remove any of his leads." He looked to Garak as
they walked side by side. "I still think you could have
gotten away with simply using restraints."

Garak smiled slightly. "Many a time I myself have escaped
from a sticky situation because my hosts felt that merely
limiting my movements would keep me where they wanted me. I
have no intention of letting Sloan go or even giving him the
idea that escape is possible. Besides, being kept in a
paralyzed state for a few hours should help wear him down
psychologically."

He considered that for a moment as he and Garak made their
way toward the medical tent. "That's true, I suppose. The
freedom the Hadar gave us in the prison camp helped us keep
our heads despite the fact that we were trapped in an
atmosphere dome. Had we been in chains for months on end I
doubt we would have been as hopeful about our chances of
escape."

"Yes, but you and the other prisoners had no information the
Dominion wanted so all they felt they needed to do was keep
you in a secure area. The goals in keeping one merely
contained and the process of extracting information from
someone are quite different. Depending on your time
constraints and the type of training your prisoner has had,
there are different types of interrogation techniques one
may apply." Garak continued, his pace slowing as he launched
fully into lecture mode. "The keys to a successful
interrogation are preparation, information, and extraction.
Maehark sent me a dossier on what the OO had on Section 31
and the operative they believe is Sloan. I'm hoping to
leverage that information so I may extract as much accurate
information from him in as short a time as possible. It
helps if your prisoner believes you know more than you
really do so he has no idea if he's giving you new
information or not as the interrogation progresses. Knowing
your target, knowing his personal life, preferences, even
the most seemingly innocuous details can make you seem more
in control than you really are. Knowledge is power,
especially during an interrogation. However, since Sloan
knows we know very little about this disease, that maxim
becomes a two way sword which he may wield as easily as we
can. Unless we make a strong showing at the start of the
interrogation, we find ourselves at a disadvantage from the
very beginning. Another problem is that he's undoubtedly
been trained to resist most forms of interrogation. Pain
will not work on a man like him, nor can we appeal to his
sense of morality because he believes the deaths of his
victims serve a greater good. Pain, doctor, in the mind of a
prisoner equals death. Death doesn't really frighten him
because he believes that if we take his life he will merely
become a martyr to his cause. Therefore, torture is off the
table. It never is a very effective tool anyway. A man in
pain will either tell you what you want to hear or, as in
this case I suspect, use the pain to strengthen his
resolve."

"What do we do then?"

Garak looked at him from the corner of his eye. "We get
inside his head. We find his weaknesses and we exploit them.
Every man has a breaking point, doctor. The information we
need is there, we just have to try to get to it before the
clock runs out."

"Too bad we don't have a way of building an artificial
psychic rapport with him, like an electronically induced
Vulcan mind meld," Julian said, half to himself.

"You rely too much on the trappings of the modern world,
doctor," Garak said easily. "Such things may be convenient,
but they aren't necessary. What it all boils down to is that
our job is to get information from him just as his job is to
keep us in the dark. It is a battle of wills: one mind
against the other. If his mind is stronger than ours, no
mind meld or machine will ever break him."

"How do you know you can then?" he asked.

"I don't. I won't know until I try, but I do have some
advantages over our Mr. Sloan already."

"Which are?"

"First, Mr. Sloan is a true believer, and while that gives
him a lot of mental fortitude, it is also his greatest
weakness. True believers can be disillusioned very easily
under the right circumstances. Also, he already thinks he's
won whereas we are very obviously in a struggle to save our
own lives."

"And how does that help us?" Julian asked in confusion.

"Because Mr. Sloan knows that a desperate man is a very
dangerous man," Garak replied. "The three men one never
wishes to meet on either side of an interrogation are a
dying man, an old man, or an insane man, because none of
them have anything left to fear or to lose. None of them
fear death or the pain that precedes it and pain, quite
often, is the lubricant of truth."

Julian frowned. "I thought you said physical torture
wouldn't work on a man like Sloan."

"The type of pain an interrogator applies is only
occasionally physical. Sometimes it is physical, yes, but
more often it is psychological or even spiritual pain that
works best. One can compartmentalize any pain of the body,
but pain of the mind is always there ready to be exploited."

"Pardon me for saying so, but that seems more than a little
diabolical," Julian said wryly. "I've suddenly got a picture
in my mind of you twisting the ends of your bushy black
mustache and laughing manically."

"I'm not wearing a mustache."

"It's--never mind," Julian said.

"I could grow one I suppose," Garak mused. "I knew a Gul who
favored a full beard, but facial hair has long been out of
fashion on Cardassia. If I may say so, doctor, your recent
efforts in that area are quite becoming."

"You think so?" Julian asked, scratching his cheek. "It's
not a fashion statement, just laziness, but if you think it
looks good..."

"Makes you look more..." Garak frowned.

"What? Scruffy? Unkempt?"

"Older."

"And that's a good thing?" Julian chuckled.

"I don't know the correct phrasing. It makes you look like
you've grown into your face, if that makes any sense," Garak
said thoughtfully. "It probably makes no sense at all,
though. I apologize for rambling off-subject like this,
doctor. In any case, your beard is quite fetching. It suits
your face. You should think about keeping it."

"Maybe I will," Julian replied with a small smile. "It was
beginning to itch and I was going to go over it with a sonic
shaver first chance I got, but if you like it then I'll
leave it."

"Don't do anything that makes you uncomfortable just to
please me, doctor," Garak said in mild surprise.

Julian reached for Garak's hand, threading their fingers
together. He turned to him fully, meeting his curious gaze
with a gentle smile. "If it makes you happy I can put up
with a little itching for a while. Besides, the way I see
it, it benefits me to keep it."

"It...benefits you?" Garak asked. "How?"

Julian stepped closer to him, pressing his scratchy whiskers
against the other man's cheek and waiting for him to shiver
slightly before whispering in his ear, "Because, when I rub
my beard against your skin I get to watch your reaction and
it makes me wonder where all your other sensitive places
are, my dear, sweet Mr. Garak."

"Ah," he said in response, obviously more than a little
caught off guard.

Julian stepped back and smiled, "But back to business," he
said, allowing their hands to part. "You seem very confident
that you can uncover Sloan's secret fears and emotional
pitfalls."

Garak cleared his throat and avoided Julian's gaze, focusing
instead on continuing their previous discussion. "It was my
job to uncover such things, doctor. I will admit I do have a
few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to our guest thanks to
the generosity of Maehark and his willingness to put his
contacts within the Intelligence community at our disposal,
but even if I had to go into that room with no information
whatsoever, it is a universal fact that all men suffer with
their own inner demons. Every man, regardless of his life
experience, suffers from regret, loss, and the fear of
failure. These are our common denominators that can either
bring us together or tear us apart; they're also the keys to
unlocking Mr. Sloan's secrets."

"Is that what you were doing all morning? Talking to
Maehark?" Julian asked, a small spark of jealousy burning in
the pit of his stomach as he pictured the handsome
Cardassian agent in his mind.

"Partly," Garak replied. "He and I discussed strategy for a
while and then he generously volunteered his own time and
resources to our efforts." He smiled slightly. "Maehark
always was very good at that sort of thing--research,
organization, and such. There is a very good reason why Tain
made him his partner in his private firm. One hour after
getting off the comm with us he had freelance operatives on
the move and a dossier prepared without me even having to
ask. I never realized how much I missed working with my old
associates until now. It's unpleasant business, yes, but
when you have the proper resources and tools at your
disposal, it certainly makes things go much smoother."

"Are you thinking about taking him up on his offer to take
Tain's place in the firm?" Julian asked, trying to make the
question seem casual.

Unfortunately Garak didn't seem at all fooled. The
Cardassian looked at him, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"And if I did would you miss me?"

Julian scowled at him. "Oh, shut up."

The two men stopped when they got to the door of the medical
tent. Garak turned to Julian, his expression shifting from
mild amusement to one of obvious concern. "What are the
chances of the fetus surviving the transfer?"

"Not great," Julian said in a low voice, mindful of the fact
that others might overhear even outside of the tent's hard
composite walls. "In a normal pregnancy, maybe thirty
percent. Ziyal is just into her second trimester; if we had
the option of waiting a few more weeks I would take it but
we don't. The virus in the baby's system also has me
worried. Okuna rigged it so the machine will mimic all of
Ziyal's vital signs right down to her heartbeat and voice
patterns by using previous scans and her own personal logs
we downloaded from the station's computer. We're hoping the
virus isn't advanced enough to know the difference but it is
a machine, organic or not. We have no idea how thorough its
creator was in programming it."

"Just do your best," Garak said with a grim set of his jaw.

"One hurdle at a time," Julian agreed. "We'll try to save
Ziyal's child and then you can try to save Bajor."

"But no pressure?" Garak asked wearily.

"If it were easy, do you honestly think we'd be the ones
stuck doing it?" Julian asked.

Garak pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'm loath to admit it,
but you may have a point there."

"Can I...ask you something?"

Garak's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "What?"

"Nothing bad," Julian assured him. "Just--with all that's
happened I've been thinking that if we get out of this in
one piece that we should really think about getting away for
a while. Take a real vacation and try to get to know one
another again--really get to know one another."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean we should get to know each other. You know, without
the walls and all the preconceived notions we had about who
the other person was. Start fresh." Julian gave him a
curious look. "Why? What did you think I meant?"

"Well, when you said 'really get to know one another' I
thought you meant you wanted us to..." He cleared his
throat.

"Oh!" Julian smiled broadly. "*REALLY* get to--"

"Yes, quite." Garak actually looked almost flustered as he
said it.

"It's not outside the realm of possibility," Julian said
broadly. "Anything's possible."

Garak's eyes twinkled with amusement and he offered him a
slightly wistful smile. "And where would we go?"

"Well, if you *really* want to get to know each other, Risa
is always nice this time of year. Perfect for getting off on
the right foot and starting a new life...at least that's
what Leeta told me the last time I was there. I'm hoping you
don't do what she did and leave me for Rom afterwards."

"That is something I can assure you would never happen,"
Garak said. "However, as nice as Risa may be, I doubt they
offer family-friendly entertainment."

"Family--I thought we had an understanding that something
more along the lines of 'adult' entertainment would be on
the itinerary."

"Kela and Lewin."

The mention of the children's names wiped the smile off
Julian's face instantly. "Damn. I forgot."

"That's all right, really. After all you haven't had a whole
lot of time to get to know them yet. It's only natural that
you'd forget, especially since you were thinking primarily
about using this trip to reestablish our friendship, not to
bond with the children."

"No," Julian said, feeling waves of guilt flow through him.
"It's not all right and I should feel like a total heel for
just cutting them out like that. You and the children are a
package deal, Garak, and I am fully cognizant of that fact,
I assure you. I really want you to know that it will never
happen again."

"Doctor," Garak said firmly. "As you said, we need time to
get to know one another. Five years or no, we are still
virtual strangers to one another and a few small gestures of
affection does not a lifetime commitment make. We need to
take our time before we get too deep. I made that mistake
once before and it nearly cost me everything. This time, if
you are serious about pursuing this, we need to take things
one step at a time, especially since Lewin and Kela need
some stability in their lives after everything that has
happened."

Julian nodded. Garak was right. As much as he would like to
just fall into bed and tumble around with him until the
world made sense again, they needed to keep a cool head when
it came to establishing any kind of relationship with each
other. He was out of Starfleet now and had no intention of
returning so they didn't need to worry about that, but there
were a thousand other immediate concerns they needed to deal
with first--if they lived.

Would he return to Deep Space Nine as a civilian? Part time
or full time? Would he be able to live with Garak at the
monastery without taking holy orders? Would Garak agree to
relocate with the children if he couldn't? And then there
were the children themselves-"How is Kela handling all of
this? I haven't seen her since all this started."

"Lum is keeping her and the other children who aren't
showing any serious symptoms away from the medical tent. I'm
going to try and see her later tonight to tuck her in."

"If I can get away I'd like to join you," Julian said, still
feeling a bit guilty. Courting Garak meant he had to get
used to the idea of being a co-parent. He had a lot to learn
and he could use as much practice as he could get.

"She would probably enjoy that," Garak agreed, then looked
at the door to the tent for a long moment.

"We have to go in," Julian said.

"I know." Garak turned to him. "There's something I should
tell you."

"Don't," Julian said. "Whatever it is, good or bad, it can
wait."

"We may not be able to stop this," Garak said quietly.

"I said *don't* tell me," Julian said rubbing his neck
wearily. "Well, if we can't stop it then we can't and that's
that, right?"

Garak threw him a look that said he wasn't fooled in the
least by his seemingly dismissive attitude toward the
possibility of their imminent demise.

"Okay, so I'm lying. You do it constantly and I don't call
you on it--much." He sighed. "If we can't stop this I don't
know what we'll do. We'll probably fight this all the way to
the end, but I know what I want to do and that's what's
making this all so hard right now."

"And that is?"

Julian led Garak away from the tent and began to speak in
low tones. "I figure that right before they initiate the
attack they'll beam us up to get us out of harm's way.
Killing Bajorans with the disease is one thing but
uninfected civilians and officers is something else
entirely. I could rig something up to block the transporter
from locking on to me, then we could get your friend with
the ship to transport you, me, the kids, and as many others
as we can manage up to her ship and go straight to warp and
as far away from Bajor as possible."

Garak went quiet for a moment and Julian half expected him
to give another speech about how they couldn't risk
infecting anyone else. Instead he was shocked to his core
when he responded with a simple, "Yes. I agree."

"Seriously?"

Garak nodded. "But--only if you think there is still a
possibility that we can find a cure. There are a lot of
unpopulated M class planets out there where we can find
temporary shelter. If the interrogation doesn't give us what
we need to end this I'll talk to Momo about it and contact
Maehark as soon as we're out of sensor range. I have money
and resources. We can get what we need to set up our own lab
somewhere and try to beat this. Even if all we can do is
stop it from progressing any further, I'm guessing that a
cure or vaccine will mysteriously turn up shortly after
Section 31's objectives are met."

"How big is the ship? How many of us can she evacuate?"

"I don't know. Not more than six probably."

"So just us and two others? That's all?" Julian asked,
feeling the bile rise in his throat at the thought of
abandoning so many people to such a grim fate.

"Can the artificial womb be transported?" Garak asked.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Julian said honestly.

"In an emergency?"

"In an emergency...I guess we'd have to. Garak," Julian
said, shifting his stance, "you know I cared for Ziyal and I
want to save this baby but if I had the choice between
saving a living child and a fetus with less than a 30%
chance of survival even under the best of circumstances, I
wouldn't even hesitate to leave the womb behind."

"Normally I'd agree, but this fetus has the virus which may
infect humans. Finding a cure for that strain is as
important as the other two strains of this disease. The
fetus is unique. I'd hate to lose that opportunity just in
case this virus does get out."

"Let's see what happens," Julian said at last. "If it looks
like the fetus won't make it, we'll leave it behind. Jake
will be transported up by the other ships so I'm not worried
about him. We can always figure out a way to get to him
later if we do take the fetus. I say our priorities should
begin with Lewin and Kela. Maybe instead of us being
transported we should get your associate to lock on to them
and four others; three more children and an adult. I'm
thinking Girani since she has the most medical training."

"I almost expected you to say Krath or Reven," Garak said in
mild surprise.

"Reven isn't going to want to leave Danna and Krath would be
on the list if he weren't so sick and we had an extra seat,
but we don't. Girani is the only logical choice. If we think
this is going to happen we'll let her know at the last
minute so there won't be enough time for her to object.
She'll give her place away to a child, I know her. We need
another doctor there though just in case we have a hard time
getting away. The only hard part left is deciding which two
children out of the 48 left to take."

"I know if you had the option we'd take them all, as would
I, but if we have to it needs to be one mixed-race child and
one pure Bajoran who are still healthy. We have to think
ahead in case finding the cure takes longer than we hope it
will. I say we take the youngest two. When we go to tuck in
Kela tonight you can ask Lum how all the children are doing
and assess our options."

"Christ," Julian said, rubbing his hand over his mouth.

"One step at a time," Garak reminded him. "This is our exit
strategy if and when all else fails. If we do our jobs and
everything goes as planned we will never have to make that
decision."

"One step at a time," Julian agreed softly, before heading
into the tent with Garak following closely behind.

---
CHAPTER TWELVE: Rumplestiltskin
---

The room was very quiet except for the slow hum of the
machines  surrounding them. It was crowded as well. Julian
was at the medical  transporter with Girani monitoring Ziyal
and the fetus while Okuna ran  through the checklist for the
modified artificial womb one last time.  Perreira was the
only member of the medical team left on the floor to do 
rounds, but Julian had ordered all of the patients to be
kept under  light sedation until they came up with something
better so hopefully  there would be no emergencies to
distract them from the task at hand.

Jake held his wife's hand, his complexion gray and sickly as
he awaited  the news of their son's fate. Garak stood at his
side, his posture tense  as kept vigil over the young man.
Reven had volunteered to keep watch  over their patients
with Perreira but he was undoubtedly close at hand  should
Jake need him.

He hated this: this inevitable death. With one press of a
button one  life would end and another would hang in the
balance. Jake's anguished  cry resounded in his ears as he
remembered what he had asked Garak. Why?  Why when medical
science has come so far was death still possible? The 
doctor in him knew the scientific reason for it, but the
child who  watched a playmate die in a cave all those years
ago railed against it  as well. Death seemed so abstract at
times. With all they had  accomplished, all the miracles
this age offered, people still died  before their time. It
wasn't right, he thought. This whole situation  angered him.
It made him burn with a deep hatred for the men who had 
perverted his craft to wreak such havoc upon these
people--upon them all.

As he placed his finger on the controller and waited for
Okuna to give  them the green light, he felt his blood begin
to rise. He wanted Sloan  to suffer for this. God help him,
he wanted Garak to do his worst upon  that man for what was
about to happen. He looked at Jake and watched as  the
younger man tightened his grip on his bride's hand. Jake's
thoughts  were written all over his face. He was hoping that
when that machine was  turned off a miracle would take place
and his wife would return to him.  He was bargaining,
pleading, praying to whatever deities made themselves 
available and it showed. Garak laid his hand on the young
man's  shoulder, causing Jake to stiffen his posture
slightly. Garak also  looked grim as he gazed down on the
young woman who had come to mean so  much to him since she
had arrived on the station.

Julian averted his eyes, unable to face their pain right
now. He knew  he'd have to deal with the fall out later, but
right now he needed to  concentrate on the task at hand.
He'd prepared a hypo for Jake just in  case the young man
had to be sedated. After seeing the look on his face  he had
a feeling that in a few moments it would come to good use.

"We're ready," Okuna said softly.

"Beginning transport," Julian said as he activated the
machine. "Energize."

There was a shimmer of light above Ziyal's stomach and then
the small  being, barely the size of a small peach, appeared
in the tank's monitor.  The tank itself was completely
enclosed in a solid metal casing but the  fetus could be
monitored on a small screen attached to the front of the 
cold-looking apparatus. Okuna and Girani watched the
readings as they  began to scroll across the bottom of the
baby's image. "We're okay,"  Okuna said in relief. "No
abnormal readings so far and no change in the  virions. The
baby's good."

Julian nodded then turned to Jake. "It's time."

"I--" He looked up, startled. "Already?" He glanced over
toward the tank  and Julian realized that he hadn't even
noticed the transfer. He'd been  too wrapped up in Ziyal.

"The baby is doing well, Jake. Now we have to let Ziyal go."

"No," Jake said, licking his lips. "I was thinking, maybe
you could try  again? Maybe without the strain of the
pregnancy Ziyal--?"

"She's gone, Jake. She has been since late last night,"
Julian said  carefully. "You need to finish letting her go."

Jake turned to Garak as if to ask for some kind of help or
hope. The  Cardassian stepped forward while keeping a firm
but gentle hand on  Jake's shoulder and looked at Julian.
"Do it."

Julian felt himself hesitate for just a second before
touching the pad  of his finger to the light on the biobed's
main console.

When death comes, Julian thought, it is so anticlimactic.

Ziyal's chest stilled: there was no sound, no movement. Jake
watched her  intently, waiting for the next breath but it
never came. His body began  to tremble and he placed his
hand on her heart. Julian didn't have to  look at the
monitor to know what Jake was feeling. One beat, a pause, 
another beat, then nothing.

"She's gone," Garak whispered in his ear, tugging him away.

"No, she's warm. She's still warm! Turn the machine back
on!" Jake cried  out, pulling away from Garak. "I said turn
the goddamn machine back on!"

"Jake--" Garak said.

"Get away from us!" Jake said, pulling Ziyal up from the bed
and into  his arms. He began to angry tears that
disintegrated into wails of  anguish. "Noooooo!"

Julian picked up the hypo and stepped over to Jake,
intending to sedate  him, but Garak headed him off with a
brief shake of his head. "If you  could excuse us and send
in Brother Reven? Thank you."

Julian nodded and motioned his team to join him. Okuna gave
the  artificial womb one last check and walked out with
them, leaving the  grieving young man and Garak alone.

As soon as they left the back room, Perreira looked up
expectantly. He  approached Okuna and began to speak to him
in low tones. Reven, looking  up and seeing Julian's grim
expression, took a moment to squeeze his  sleeping husband's
hand and spare him one last tender look before  getting up
from his chair.

"He's still with Brother Elim?"

Julian nodded, handing the monk the hypo he'd taken with
him. "Garak  asked that you join them. I haven't sedated
Jake, but if you think he  needs it..."

Reven took the hypo with a nod then walked through the door.

Julian shook off the bleak despair that hung over him and
tried to busy  himself with monitoring the patients instead,
but he couldn't help but  look over at the closed door of
the scanning room every few minutes. All  of them did.

Julian was tired; he hadn't slept in so long he'd almost
forgotten what  a pillow felt like. But the last thing he
wanted to do was nap. When the  patients had all been seen
to, he sat next to Lewin's bed and began to  read out loud
to him in low tones from a PADD of children's stories. The 
boy couldn't hear him, he knew, but it gave him something to
do.

After an hour or so, Okuna made his way over to Julian's
side, his eyes  locked on the still-closed door. "I know
Jake needs some time to grieve,  but someone really needs to
get in there and make sure the womb is still  functioning
correctly. It's your call, though."

Julian put the PADD down on the floor beside the boy's cot.
"Give it  fifteen more minutes. We've got at least a dozen
fail-safes on the  system. If one of the alarms goes off,
Brother Reven will let us know--"

The door opened and Reven and Jake stepped through with
Garak close  behind. Jake looked as though he were in a deep
state of shock, his eyes  blood-red and his complexion
alarmingly grey. Reven half led, half  carried him out of
the side door of the tent toward the temple. Garak  watched
them until they left, then walked over toward where Julian
was  standing.

With a nod, Julian dismissed Okuna. "How is he?" he asked
when Garak was  within earshot.

The look on Garak's face said more than mere words ever
could. The  Cardassian took a moment to lay his hand on his
foster son's forehead  then looked to Julian. "Are you ready
to begin the interrogation?"

Rage filled Julian's soul and he got up from his chair.
"Absolutely."

---

When they entered the bottling room, Sloan was where they
had left him,  although now there was a soft sheen of sweat
on the man's forehead  despite the fact that the room was
quite cool. His eyes, one of the few  things not paralyzed
by the drug he had been administered earlier,  followed
their progress as they entered.

Julian sized the other man up. Tall, blond, middle-aged; he
could be  anyone. He was nondescript, handsome without being
striking. He might  have passed this man a thousand times on
the station and never noticed  him. This was their spy. The
man responsible, at least in part, for all  of this.

The bastard who murdered Ziyal.

Garak gave him an almost imperceptible nod and Julian
stepped toward  Sloan, hypospray in hand. As he pressed it
to the other man's neck he  suddenly wished he had loaded it
with something other than the  anti-paralytic. He was almost
surprised to realize just how much he  wanted to see this
man suffer. He knew that administering physical pain  was
not within Garak's plans for Sloan but, oh, how easy it
would be to  change those plans for him. Fuck civilized
Federation philosophy, he  thought as he stared into their
captive's eyes. The wrong medication  administered at the
right time and at just the right dosage...

Julian heard the hypo hiss on the agent's neck as he
administered the  meds and stepped back, fighting the urge
to do this man violence.

The effect of the drug was almost instantaneous. Sloan
rolled his neck  and sighed, closing his eyes in pleasure.

"Thank you, doctor. You have no idea how uncomfortable it
was keeping my  neck in such a rigid position for so long."
He smiled crookedly.  "Despite the circumstances, I'm glad
to finally meet you face to face.  You've been the subject
of much speculation for some time now. It's good  to meet
the legend in the flesh, so to speak." When he spoke, it was 
toward Julian, not Garak. He was surprised by that.

"I'm afraid I'm not as enthusiastic over meeting you, Mr.
Sloan," Julian  said coldly. "One of my patients just died
because of you."

"Ah, Ziyal, right?" he asked, his smile unwavering. "I'm
honestly  surprised she lasted this long."

Julian started toward him, intent on tearing him limb from
limb but the  look on Garak's face stopped him. Focus, he
ordered himself. Don't give  into your anger. Sloan is
testing you.

Sloan's smile broadened, seemingly amused by the anger he
saw reflected  in Julian's face. "Did you know that I
considered recruiting you at one  point, doctor? I thought
that since this was all based on your work  anyway, you
might as well be there to see it all come to fruition. Well, 
I suppose it all worked out for the best in any case. You're
here, I'm  here...tell me, aren't you at least a little bit
proud of yourself? I  mean think about it: your research and
theories probably saved the  entire Alpha Quadrant. That, in
my opinion, makes you the real hero in  this little story."

"Seeing my research being perverted by people like you
disgusts me!"  Julian spat out, unable to contain himself.
"I was trying to save lives  and you--you bastards abused
that information and created a bioweapon!  Am I proud? What
do you think? You turned it onto an entire planet full  of
innocent people! The only thing I want right now besides the
cure for  this virus is to see you get exactly what you
deserve."

"Be honest, doctor, if not with me then with yourself: the
whole point  of your research was to give us a tactical
advantage against the  Dominion. I say job well done. After
all, mom always said you can't make  the perfect omelet
without cracking a few eggs, right?"

"You fucking psycho," Julian muttered under his breath.

"That's not nice," Sloan said, chiding him. "After all, you
always  wanted to be a spy, right? Fight the good fight and
all that. Well,  welcome to the game, Dr. Bashir. It's not
as neat and tidy as the  holoadventures make it seem, but if
you keep a positive outlook and your  eye on the prize, it
can be a very rewarding career."

"Rewarding? There are people dying--!" Julian stopped
himself, gritted  his teeth, and fell back a step or two.
Garak had warned him but he let  Sloan get in his head
anyway. The man was strapped to a chair and yet in  only a
few minutes he had Julian feeling like he was the one being
cornered.

Sloan watched in amusement as Julian struggled to bring his
temper under  control then turned to the Cardassian. "You
must be the good Brother  Elim?" he said in greeting, still
seemingly unconcerned by the fact that  he was tied to a
chair with heavy-duty restraints on his hands and feet.  "I
must say, I'm not quite as pleased to make your
acquaintance."

"Given the circumstances I would expect not," Garak said
amiably as he  dragged a second chair from behind one of the
workbenches and placed it  across from his captive before
sitting. "I, on the other hand, am always  happy to meet
someone who works in my former profession, especially when 
I'm not the one in restraints."

"I'll give credit where credit is due, you do run a classy 
interrogation," Sloan said as he glanced around the room,
which was  filled with racks of wine from floor to ceiling.
"Nice atmosphere--throw  in a cigar and a good book and I
could really make myself at home."

"And I must commend you as well: none of the usual denials
or ranting  about how your civil rights are being violated.
I find your upfront  approach to the situation quite
refreshing."

"I doubt it would do any good to even try, so why bother?"
Sloan said in  a maddeningly confident tone. "After all,
we're both professionals. We  know the rules of the game: I
got caught and now you have me where you  want me. The only
question you have to ask yourself is what good will it  do
to keep me here. The answer, of course, is it won't do you
any good  at all. I'm afraid all that hard work you put into
this operation has  gone to waste. I know what you want and,
sorry, but I don't have it."

"But you did unleash the virus on Bajor," Julian broke in,
unable to  remain silent.

"No," Sloan said, looking his way. "I did not."

"That's a lie!" Julian burst out.

"Doctor," Garak said without taking his eyes off of Sloan.
"Our friend,  Mr. Sloan, is not lying. He didn't set the
virus loose on Bajor."

"But--!"

"He unleashed it on Deep Space Nine; on Ziyal specifically,
correct?"

Sloan chuckled. "You're good. You could learn a lot from
your friend,  doctor. He knows how to keep a cool head."

Garak leaned back in his chair and eyed the man sitting
across from him  critically. "A 'cool head' as you call it
is what has kept me alive all  these years. My master
drilled it into me since I was first apprenticed  to him. 
'Dispassionate focus' he'd say; 'the ability to assess a 
situation without losing yourself in it is the key to a good
agent's  success and ultimate survival.' It has done me more
favors than I can  count."

"Sounds more like something a Vulcan would say," Sloan
commented, then  appeared to mull it over for a moment.
"That's right! I do seem to  recall that you studied Vulcan
philosophy for a while. Tell me, did your  fascination for
Vulcan disciplines begin before you assassinated the 
Romulan senator or after you started fucking that Vulcan a
few years  back? I believe his name was Sek." He turned to
Julian. "Your boyfriend  here has a thing for smart younger
men. The younger the better, right,  Garak?" He turned his
attentions back to his interrogator. "Actually,  Bashir's
getting a little long in the tooth for you, don't you think? 
You like them fresh-picked, right off the tree. I don't
blame you, I  like a nice, firm piece of ass myself. Men
like us need a break from all  the cynicism and death. Youth
can be so...invigorating." He turned to  Julian with a
playful wink.

It was all the doctor could do not to smash his fist in the
bastard's  smug face.

"It would seem that your files on me are fairly extensive,"
Garak  replied, completely unruffled by Sloan's disgusting
insinuations.

"They are," Sloan replied. "There is very little we don't
know about  you, Brother Elim. Although your refusal of a
commission in lieu of a  life of service with the 'Prophets'
had us scratching our heads."

"If it doesn't work out, perhaps I can apply for work with
Section 31  instead. I understand there may be a few
positions opening up soon."

"Haven't you heard? Section 31 doesn't exist." Sloan leaned
forward as  best he could and spoke in a confidential tone.
"It's a myth. An urban  legend." He leaned back in his chair
and sighed. "How these things get  started I'll never know."

"What happened to all that refreshing honesty?" Julian
muttered darkly,  crossing his arms over his chest.

"I hope your aren't implying that I am being less than
completely  honest, doctor." Sloan said, mocking him. "I'm
hurt."

"Oh, I know Section 31 exists," Garak smiled. "You see, for
all their  faults, the Obsidian Order was very good at
putting together dossiers on  operatives both inside and
outside of their own organization. They knew  of Section 31
long before your recent foray into biowarfare. In fact, 
they knew quite a bit about you in particular."

"I'm flattered," Sloan said, appearing almost bored by the
Cardassian's  revelation. "I had no idea I had such a broad
fan base on Cardassia."

"You do have quite a few admirers. I must say though, I'm
not  responsible for the information. I was already out of
the service when  you began your career as a patriot for 31.
An old associate of mine, one  of the former directors of
our counter intelligence division, assisted  me in
uncovering much of this information."

"Nice to have friends."

"Indeed," Garak agreed. "Although in our line of work
friends are few  and far between."

Julian bit the inside of his cheek and shifted his stance
slightly in  annoyance as he watched their byplay from the
sidelines. Damn it man,  are you going to kiss his arse all
day or get on with it, he thought  peevishly.

"Hmm, one of the drawbacks to being an assassin--oh wait,
you were an  interrogator. I apologize." His voice dripped
with false sincerity. "So  hard to keep up with all the
euphemisms the Cardassian Empire has for  'cold blooded
murderer' when you've been kidnapped and strapped in a 
chair for hours on end."

"Not at all, Mr. Sloan. I understand perfectly, and speaking
as one  killer to another, I assure you I'm not the least
bit offended by your  refreshing and so very human brand of
honesty."

"Thank you," Sloan said in exaggerated graciousness. "I
believe  murdering bastards like ourselves should be able to
discuss our craft  freely and without worrying about
censoring ourselves."

"I agree completely, Mr. Sloan. Sloan." Garak mused.
"Interesting name.  Short, simple, yet it has a dangerous
quality I find intriguing. I quite  like the sound of it. My
own aliases when I was in the field were never  quite so
lyrical or provocative as that. Sloan...Sloan... it just
rolls  off the tongue, don't you think? Tell me, since we
are friends no and  are, as you say, not limiting ourselves
by adhering to the normal rules  of interrogation, would you
prefer to be called Sloan or by your real  name instead?"

Sloan's smile faded slightly, "I'm sorry?"

"Samuels. David Samuels; that is your name, correct?" Garak
made a show  of pausing as though in deep thought. "No-no,
I'm sure my friend said  your name was David Samuels Jr.,
born near Pretoria, South Africa,  Earth; most recently
residing in Corpus Christi, Texas, Earth; married  and
divorced from Jacqueline Dominguez Samuels Asher, now
remarried; and  father to one son, David Allen Samuels III,
now deceased."

"I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else."

"Really? I apologize then. You know how it is when you
outsource this  kind of thing. Communication breaks down,
files get misplaced or you  wind up with shoddy
intelligence. It can be a real bother. However, this  is
good news for you. From what I read in this Samuels's
dossier, he's  lived a somewhat unfortunate existence. He
had entertained hopes of  being accepted into medical
school, despite being a poor student, but  had those hopes
dashed when it was discovered that his high score on the 
entrance exam was obtained by hacking into the system."
Garak leaned in  confidentially. "Now, our friend Dr. Bashir
probably won't understand  what happened next in the saga of
David Samuels because in his  experience cheaters never
prosper. You and I know differently. There is  an enormous
difference between a simple data thief and a truly talented 
electronic hacker that only persons such as ourselves can
appreciate.  Samuels had a raw and untapped talent and when
he proved that by hacking  into an encrypted system to
change those grades the right people took  notice. The only
reason he was even caught was because the hack preceded  a
major system audit that just managed to catch the intrusion.
A  remarkable feat, especially for someone who was
completely self-taught,  wouldn't you agree?" Garak paused
long enough for Sloan to answer his  question with an almost
imperceptible narrowing of his eyes. "After that  he
disappeared for a bit. No friends, no family, he wasn't
missed at all  for the six years he spent training for his
new career. He later  resurfaced in Starfleet as a midlevel
assay officer under a Vice Admiral  Fujisaki, then merely a
captain but still an up and coming operative in  the
Intelligence community. Fujisaki seemed to take a special
interest  in nurturing young Samuels's career. As Admiral
Fujisaki's career  flourished, so did his. In fact, you
became his personal assistant--I'm  sorry, my mistake,
*Samuels* became his assistant, until of course, he  left
the service and joined a private research company
specializing in  communications technology."

"Tell me, does that kind of work pay well?" Sloan said, his
ever-present  smile still in place. "I've been considering
taking early retirement."

"I'm afraid not, and the hours are apparently fairly long as
well--at  least that's what the former Mrs. Samuels alleged
in her divorce  proceedings. His marriage to Jacqueline
started out fairly well, it  would seem. She met him when he
was a young officer in  Starfleet--Fujisaki's wife
introduced them in fact. When he left the  service to work
in communications she had hoped that would be the end of 
his sudden and unexpected trips out of town and that he'd
begin to open  up and let her past the--how did she phrase
it? 'The wall of secrecy he  built between the two of us.'
Instead, this odd behavior increased  exponentially. She
became utterly convinced he was cheating on her and  tried
to salvage the marriage by having a child. She claimed she
thought  their son might become an anchor which would give
him a reason to want  to be home more, but not even he was
enough. She claimed in her legal  filings that her husband
had been absent for much of their marriage and  young
David's childhood, and that even after their son committed
suicide  he failed to show up at his funeral. He didn't even
bother calling until  almost two weeks after the fact."

"Like I said, as utterly fascinating as this story is, your
information  is inaccurate. I'm not Samuels and I've never
even met the man. None of  this concerns me," Sloan said,
his tone still relaxed and even despite  the icy hatred that
filled his eyes the moment Garak had said the word 
'suicide'.

"I apologize again for that misunderstanding. After all, as
I said  before, intelligence gathering can be tricky. In
fact, as a side note  before we change the subject, Samuels
himself questioned the official  ruling of suicide in his
son's death. He claimed the coroner's report  was botched
and requested a formal inquiry into the matter. His reasons 
were that his son had sent word to him that he had evidence
a high  ranking member of the Security Council was a
Founder. Before Samuels  received the message, however, his
son was dead. He claimed that his  suicide was staged, and
nearly erupted into violence and had to be  forcibly removed
from the proceedings when his estranged wife and his  son's
girlfriend both testified that young David had suffered from 
depression and paranoid delusions and had been under a
doctor's care for  quite some time. Who knows? Perhaps his
intelligence was faulty, or  perhaps his son was telling the
truth and the Security Council had been  infiltrated. It is
possible, isn't it? Dr. Bashir is a living testimony  to
that. What do you think?"

"I really wouldn't know."

"Surely you have an opinion after all that?" Garak asked.
"No? Oh well,  it's a shame in any case. Young David was
only twenty years old when he  passed away--the same age as
Ziyal, in fact. Not, of course, that one  thing is related
to the other. After all, Ziyal was merely collateral 
damage, a necessary victim to the pursuit of the survival of
the Alpha  Quadrant, whereas David was a victim of his own
inability to live up to  his father's expectations. His
mother alleged both in the inquiry into  his death and in
her divorce proceedings that her husband put undue  pressure
on their son to join the military despite the fact that
David  wanted to be an artist and didn't have the aptitude
or the emotional  stability to cope with the pressures of
Starfleet." Garak tilted his  head slightly in a birdlike
gesture of curiosity. "Ziyal was an artist,  did you know
that?"

"No, I didn't," Sloan answered curtly.

"Yes, a very talented artist in fact. She had recently been
accepted to  the Bajoran University of Arts and Sciences. I
wish I had some of her  sketches with me; you really should
see them. Her art held an almost  magical quality much like
David Samuels the younger's work. His  self-portrait was
particularly haunting. I saw it when I went over the  crime
scene photos. It was white chalk on black canvas; very
striking.  He was found hanging in front of it--"

"Enough!" Sloan bit out. "Just shut up and begin the damned 
interrogation already!"

"But I thought we were having a nice, civilized
conversation," Garak  said in an almost hurt tone. "You
almost sound angry, which doesn't make  sense really. After
all, it's not like this was your son, right?"

Sloan didn't answer.

"Ah, I understand. Even though I never knew this boy either,
I must  admit I find stories such as these quite disturbing.
You know, in a  profession such as ours, we see a lot of
death--unnecessary, wasteful  death." Garak's manner became
solemn, the timbre of his voice growing  more intimate as he
spoke to his prisoner. "War, murder, political 
assassination--a specialty of mine once upon a time as you
had mentioned  earlier, but none of those really struck me
as being as tragic as  suicide. War is a fact of life,
murder is tragic but only occasionally  shocking, and
political assassination, well," Garak chuckled, "that's a 
public service most of the time. Suicide though, that always
saddens me.  A young person with their life stretched out
before them but overcome  with despair and unyielding ennui
decides to solve a temporary problem  with such a horrific
and utterly permanent solution--and the worst part  of
suicide isn't the suffering of the victims but of their
families. The  shock, the exposure one feels as their
friends and family members begin  to whisper and point
fingers wondering where *they* went wrong, how  *they*
failed, what *they* should have done to help their 
child...terrible, just terrible. And truthfully, isn't it
all just a  matter of free will in the end? A person makes a
decision and the  consequences are death. That's not so
unusual or shocking when you think  about it. After all,
shouldn't the victim absorb some of the blame? Take  some
personal responsibility for his inability to cope like the
rest of  us manage to? His father didn't tie the knot in the
rope he hung himself  with, did he? So he was unavailable
emotionally. David was an adult, not  a child. He made an
adult decision and his decision had a tragic  consequence.
He was the only one at fault for that. Decisions. Choices." 
Garak paused. "I'm so sorry for rambling on. I tend to do
that  sometimes; old age is catching up to me. Do you have
an opinion about  this you'd like to share, Mr. Sloan?"

Sloan ignored him, his posture stiff and his face a
thundercloud of anger.

"No?" He turned to Julian. "Have you an opinion, doctor?"

Julian cleared his throat, unsure of what Garak wanted him
to say.  "Well, as a doctor I, of course, disapprove of
suicide, but many  cultures do view it as an individual
right. The Vulcans, the Klingons,  several others including
some Earth cultures believe that choosing the  form of one's
death is an honorable way to die. Still, if I had a  patient
experiencing severe depression I would try to help them by 
prescribing drug therapy as well as some form of
counseling."

"Very wise," Garak said with a nod. "Here's a curious fact:
Did you know  that Cardassia has an almost nonexistent
suicide rate? I wonder why that  is? Do you know, doctor?"

"No." Julian began to feel very uncomfortable with Garak's
line of  questioning. He knew, logically, what he was doing
but still, it was  almost...

He murdered Ziyal, he reminded himself. Fuck fair play: he
tried to  murder a whole planet of people and he still might
do it!

Actually, compared to what Sloan would be going through had
he been the  one running this interrogation, he was getting
off lucky, he told  himself. Too lucky. The questions cut
deep, but he couldn't see how this  was going to break
Sloan. He started to worry a little then. He knew  Garak was
far more experienced with this sort of thing than he was,
but  maybe the Cardassian had lost his touch? Or perhaps
Garak was holding  back because of his presence?

"Cardassians have an incredible will to survive. It is
something we're  born with. When our planet was threatened
with extinction we immediately  regrouped and adopted a
military plan of invade and conquer so we could  survive,
despite the fact that until that time we were a peaceful, 
loving, almost Utopian society dedicated to the arts and to
our gods. We  went from artists and musicians to soldiers
and killers overnight and  took what we needed to survive
from our nearest neighbors, the Bajorans.  It's
mind-boggling when you consider the fact that we once lived
in  peace with them. They were our allies: did you know
that? For millennia  the Hebetians and the Bajorans traded
freely and even worshipped the  same gods. Now, most
Cardassians either don't know that or refuse to  discuss it,
but it's true. I never told you that, did I, doctor?"

"No you didn't," Julian said, feeling mild surprise at the
revelation.

Garak wrinkled his nose in mild distaste, "Religion isn't
really a  suitable lunch topic. Even now, despite my recent
conversion, I'm loath  to discuss such matters, probably due
to a lifetime of being conditioned  to believe that the
State is the only all-powerful entity there is. That 
opinion has changed, I will admit. Perhaps it's a part of
growing older;  one begins to seek out something greater
than oneself, particularly in a  time of great stress. For
some that savior comes in the form of  religion; for others
it is a cause, some wrong which cries out to be  righted. Do
you believe in a god, Mr. Sloan?"

"No," he answered curtly.

"Then you are most certainly not this elder Samuels fellow.
He was  raised within the church of his ancestors: the Dutch
Reformed Church.  His father was a minister as was his
grandfather and so on for  generations. His son, in fact,
was interred in the grounds of the church  his
great-great-great grandfather founded in South Africa. I
suspect he  chose not to attend because of some falling-out
within the family, but  that's merely wild speculation on my
part. I imagine that breaking with  family tradition and
leaving the church of their ancestors must have  greatly
upset the elder Samuels's father and caused some family
strife.  You'd think, then, that he would have been more
sensitive to his own  son's wish to become an artist?
Hmm...oh well, no matter. I know we  mustn't judge, but
personally I can't imagine not attending the funeral  of my
only child no matter how disappointed I was in how he chose
to end  his life."

"He didn't choose to die--he was murdered," Sloan bit out.

"Good point! Yes, Samuels insisted his son was murdered
right to the  bitter end. Does anyone wish to know how this
tragic saga ends? Anyone?"  Garak hesitated a moment before
answering. "The elder Samuels died in a  shuttle accident.
It was quite tragic as it came right on the heels of  his
son's death. He couldn't be buried next to his son, however,
as  there wasn't enough left of him to send back to his
family. You see,  that's what made my associate believe you
were this Samuels. Right after  the accident, someone began
to erase all of his files systematically;  every mention of
his existence began to slowly disappear. So slowly that  it
went unnoticed to everyone until I myself attempted to hack
into the  files. The only reason our records remained
untouched is because they  were in the vaults of the
Obsidian Order. You see, the Order was of the  opinion that
this Samuels was a Federation operative who had infiltrated 
the Maquis, but that's neither here nor there. Even Mrs.
Samuels  believed her husband was alive, or so one could
infer as she sought a  posthumous divorce from him before
she remarried. That's very unusual,  isn't it, doctor?
Posthumous divorces?"

"I haven't heard of many so, yes, quite unusual," Julian
said from  behind him.

"I suppose it must take a lot of unresolved anger to do
something like  that. I mean to divorce a man who is already
dead? That information was  deleted as well, not that Mrs.
Asher probably ever bothered to check on  it, and the
Samuels family supposedly ended with the death of the elder 
David and his son so..." Garak suddenly looked up. "Wait a
moment: why  do you suppose someone would go so far to erase
the life of a dead man  no one would miss anyway? Doctor?
No? Do you have a theory, Mr. Sloan?  One spy to another."

"I couldn't care less, to tell you the truth," Sloan ground
out.

"Because it is--what's the term your people use for such
things? Oh yes;  it is S.O.P., 'standard operating
procedure', when creating a new  identity, to 'kill off' and
erase the old one. Very effective, and it  probably would
have worked had Samuels not been spotted by one of our  own
operatives who had infiltrated the Maquis as well. She even
managed  to send a picture of him to her handlers less than
two weeks before she  disappeared along with the rest of her
shipmates. I, of course, was not  aware of any of this at
the time as I was already well into my exile  aboard the
station, but her handler and his superiors believed the 
shadow group, Section 31, may have had a hand in that as
well. Perhaps,  but I doubt it. After all, one of
Starfleet's vessels disappeared around  that same time and,
as patriots to the cause, 31 probably wouldn't kill  their
own men. Probably. Whatever the cause of these events, the
dossier  on Samuels was closed. We do tend to hang on to
information like that  though, just in case. Samuels and his
dossier were filed away only to be  dug back out when Mr.
Wendell Greer showed up on Deep Space Nine's  security
feeds. Wendell Greer--that's your alias, is it not? Funny.
You  and Samuels look similarly enough that you could be
identical twins."

"Haven't you heard? Everybody has a doppelganger out there
somewhere,"  Sloan said. "Even the Cardies, although, to
tell you the truth, all you  spoonheads look alike to me."

"And this was such a pleasant conversation. It's such a
shame that you  had to interject childish and racist terms
such as 'Cardie' and 'spoon  head' into the mix." Garak
clucked in disapproval. "Why do you people  always go
straight for the term 'spoonhead'? It's not at all creative
or  even insulting really. You have such vicious slanders
for one another,  yet for us the best you can come up with
is 'spoonhead' and 'spoonie'.  Why not call us Hebies or
crocs or something with some bite to it.  'Spoonie'," Garak
said with distaste.

"I'm sure if I had a moment or two to think about it I could
come up  with something a bit more creative. Bastard, maybe?
You are, after all,  a bastard, right Mr. Garak? Your daddy
Tain banged the maid and up you  sprung," he said in a slow
drawl.

"True enough," Garak said amiably. "I am a bastard, by birth
and by  nature. I have killed, I have tortured, and I have
been an exemplary  example of a true bastard since my very
conception, but I have never,  ever, set loose a plague upon
my allies just as a means to an end."

"I guess you deserve a prize then," Sloan retorted.

"Oh, I'm no saint, as I just pointed out. I am a killer, a
predator; it  is in my nature to destroy that which
threatens me."

"Am I supposed to start getting nervous now?" Sloan shot
back.

"No, not at all. After all, to people like you and me, death
is merely a  part of what we do. It is the inevitable
conclusion to our life's work.  We serve death and we risk
death. Believe me when I say I have no  intention of doing
you harm; however, as a personal courtesy from one 
murderous bastard to another, I swear to you I will not so
much as touch  a hair on your head."

"That would make this the nicest interrogation I've ever
experienced  then. Thanks a bunch," he said with insincere
jocularity.

"Not a hair on your head shall be touched, as I said.
Instead, I've  decided the best way to deal with this is to
take a page from your own  playbook. Doctor," Garak turned
in his chair. "On the table nearest you  is a PADD. Would
you pass it to me please?"

Julian frowned in confusion but did as he said, then moved
to stand near  Sloan so he could get a better look at what
Garak was planning to reveal.

"During my many lunches with Dr. Bashir he once mentioned a
curious  children's story from your world called
'Rumplestiltskin'. I'm sure  you've heard it, but just in
case you haven't it is about an unholy  bargain that was
struck out of desperation. A young girl traded the life  of
her first born child to a demonic Ferengi-like creature in
order to  secure her future. When the woman later had her
child and the creature  came to retrieve his prize, she
protested. The creature told her that  should she guess his
name she could keep her son." Garak brought  something up on
the PADD before turning it toward them both. "The reason  I
chose to recite this grim little tale is because this," he
said,  pointing to the picture of a young boy who was
perhaps three or four,  "is David Allen Samuels Webster. His
mother is Karen Dennings Webster.  She was the girlfriend of
the boy who killed himself and he," he tapped  on the
toddler's picture in emphasis, "is their son." Garak turned
the  image back toward himself and smiled. "A handsome boy
and very bright  according to his nursery school reports."
He clicked onto another  picture and showed it to them.
"This is a holoimage of Oscar Sisko taken  just two days
before his mother died. She died because of the virus you 
unleashed. Yesterday as I sat vigil with her husband on the
eve of her  body's death--her brain was already
destroyed--the story of  Rumplestiltskin kept running
through my head. I have no idea why. Later,  when I called
my old associate from the Obsidian Order, I asked him what 
he thought it meant. My friend had never heard of this
Rumplestiltskin  so I shared with him what I could remember
of it and, to my surprise, he  greatly enjoyed it. He even
went so far as to say he found it  inspiring." Garak queued
something up on the PADD and showed it to them.  The video
feed of a young boy riding a tricycle played for a moment 
before Garak turned it away again. "In case you were
wondering, my  associate, inspired by this tale, hired a
freelance contractor to record  these images earlier this
morning. This operator has orders to take this  child from
his home and move him to a remote location where he will be 
subjected to a great deal of pain before his life is ended.
This plan  goes into action the moment the General Assembly
is called into session  to discuss the Phoenix protocol."

Julian's stomach began to churn in revulsion as he listened
to what  Garak was saying. Now he understood why Garak had
chosen to approach the  interrogation the way he had. This
whole time he had thought he was  grasping at straws and
landing wild punches to Sloan's ego, but now he  understood
that Garak had been speaking with an agenda the whole time.

Sloan growled, "And how do I know that isn't just some stock
footage you  found and doctored up?"

Garak restarted the feed and turned the PADD on them. A
kindly looking  old man walking a dog appeared on screen.
The boy, seeing the dog, got  off of his tricycle and ran
over. Garak turned up the sound and they  could hear the boy
ask, "What's his name?"

"Goldie," the man answered. "And what's your name?"

"Davy," the boy said with a giggle as the puppy licked his
face.

"Davy? That's your whole name?"

"No, silly. I got a bunch of names!"

"You do?" the man breathed in amazement. "Do you know what
they are?"

"Of course I do! My name is Davy Allen Samuels Webster and I
even got a  number in my name, too!"

"A number! I've never met anyone who had a number in their
name before."

"Well I got one. It's a four!" He held up his fingers. "One,
two, three,  four--see!"

"That’s very good!"

 From off camera a woman's voice could be heard calling the
boy to lunch.

"That must be your mommy," the man said, looking up. "Do you
know what  her name is?"

"Yeah. Her name's Karen but we don't got a dog though. If we
did got a  dog I'd name him Goldie too," the boy said,
ignoring his mother so he  could continue to stroke the
puppy's lush fur.

"What about your daddy?" the stranger asked.

Davy shook his head. "He died a'fore I was borned but his
name was just  like mine."

A woman came into view causing Sloan to gasp in shock.

"Davy! I told you it was time for lunch!" She looked up from
her son and  smiled at the stranger. "I'm sorry, was he
bothering you?"

"Not at all," the man replied. "Goldie loves it when
children stop to  give him a scratch."

"Are you from around here?"

"I'm staying with some friends a few houses over." He held
out his hand  and smiled. "My name is Digby. Augustus
Digby."

"Karen Webster," she said, shaking his hand. "We just moved
in a few  days ago."

"Can you bring Goldie back to play again soon?" Davy asked,
hugging the  small dog.

"Davy!" his mother cried.

"No, that's all right." The old man knelt down and ruffled
the boy's  blond hair. "I promise I will bring him back very
soon--"

"ENOUGH!" Sloan shouted, struggling in his bonds. "You son
of a bitch!  You lay one finger on him and I'll kill you! I
will fucking kill you!"

Julian swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as he
watched  Garak calmly turn off the PADD. "You murdered a
girl I cared for very  deeply, Mr. Sloan," Garak said. "I
was very fond of Ziyal; she was like  the daughter I never
had. As I have grown older I have begun to  understand the
need one has for family, for a legacy. I never had the 
opportunity to raise my own biological child, but I have
managed to  gather around me several people who have filled
that emptiness within  me. Ziyal was one, her husband is now
another, the children of this  orphanage and the men and
women who care for them are others: I have,  surprisingly
enough, come to think of them all as my family, Mr. Sloan. 
I'm sure you know this already, but to a Cardassian the only
thing more  precious than our own survival is the welfare of
our family. In a  Cardassia home, several generations live
under one roof including  extended family and in-laws. For
me, this place was my roof and all who  resided within the
walls of this place were under my protection. You  murdered
a member of my family when you killed Ziyal. You invaded my 
home and have caused harm to those I have vowed to protect.
So, to  punish you for your crimes I will first take your
grandson's life in  exchange for Ziyal's, and then I will
kill his mother, and your ex-wife,  and everyone else you
have ever loved until there is no one left."

"You fucking piece of shit--you touch him and I swear to
God--!"

"God?" Garak shook his head. "You said you didn't believe in
gods. Do  you believe instead in the devil, Mr. Sloan? I do.
You felt no  compunction to care about the lives you stole
when you set loose this  plague, so why then should I care
about your grandson, or any of the  others for that matter?
Why should I save this one child when you are  prepared to
massacre millions of children who are just as innocent as 
sweet, precious little Davy?"

"You will die screaming, motherfucker! That is a promise
from me to you,  you hear me?!? Me to you! YOU TOUCH HIM AND
YOU DIE!"

"I have no intention of harming this child. After all, I'm
merely a dead  man on a planet filled with the sick and
dying. I have no power  whatsoever. I can't even contact the
hitman watching so tenderly over  your only grandson. I
didn't hire him: my friend did. The instructions  he gave
him are simple, however: The moment his contact tells him
that  the Phoenix protocols have been enacted, young David
will disappear  never to be seen alive again. It will be a
great tragedy. Despite that,  please don't think we are
completely without mercy. We are civilized men  who live by
a certain code after all. Karen Webster will receive the 
body of her son so he may be laid to rest beside his
father." Garak  paused for a moment in an exaggerated pose
of consideration. "Not all at  one time, of course, but
eventually--"

Sloan let loose with an unnatural scream of animalistic rage
and tried  to launch himself at Garak only to succeed in
turning over his chair and  landing hard at the Cardassian's
feet.

It was all Julian could do not to voice his own deep-felt
horror at what  the man he thought he could love was now
saying. That Garak could so  casually talk about murdering
an innocent child--

He wiped the sweat that had gathered at the top of his lip
and willed  his body and voice to still. Garak had warned
him, but he never expected  this. Torture, yes. Pain, yes.
Not this.

Never this.

"The only way to save your grandson is to stop the
Federation from  destroying Bajor. Do that and he lives.
They all live," Garak said  coldly as he stared down at the
man lying on the ground before him.  "Don't, and at least
you will be comforted by the fact that if your god  exists
then surely he will have mercy on little David in the
afterlife  and the boy will be reunited with his mother
within mere days. I believe  you call the honored place of
your dead 'Heaven', correct? If this  Heaven exists then the
child will surely find his place there. You,  however, are
destined for somewhere much less hospitable, I'm afraid."

"If I go to hell then you're coming with me, you murdering
son of a  bitch!" Sloan said, trying to kick out at him with
his bound feet.

Garak moved away. "End this. Either tell us how to stop the
virus or  confess to setting loose this plague before
Starfleet authorities so  that Bajor can be spared until a
virus is found."

"FUCK YOU! You are going to die screaming! You will die and
watch all  these fucking backwater shit sniffers die with
you! Do you hear me?!?  Fuck you and fuck this piece of shit
planet! Fu--urk!" Sloan began to  convulse and froth at the
mouth, his eyes rolling up into his head.

"What's happening?" Garak asked in alarm. "Is he faking this
or is it a  reaction to the medication?"

The moment Sloan began to show signs of distress, Julian
grabbed his  tricorder and began to scan him. "No, he's had
some kind of rapid acting  toxin released in his system! I
don't know how he even got it!" He  slapped his comm badge.
"Okuna! Code blue! I need a crash kit to the  wine house
stat!"

//We're on our way!// Okuna responded.

"Damn it!" Julian muttered as he released Sloan's bonds, 
shoved the  chair away, and began manual CPR.

Sloan and Perreira rushed through the door moments later and
looked  around the scene in surprise.

"What the hell--who's this guy?" Okuna asked as he got down
on the floor  with Julian and placed the neural stimulator
on the convulsing man's  forehead.

"Never mind! Clear!" Julian ordered, activating the device.

Sloan's body jerked and Perreira scanned him. "No good!"

"Clear!" Julian ordered again and activated the device,
cursing when the  reading came back flat-lined on the
stimulator's display.

"No good, doc. He's coming up flat all the way down the
line." Perreira  said, still scanning.

"What do you want to do?" Okuna asked.

Julian's lips tightened into a thin line. "Clear! I'm not
letting you  die on me you son of a bitch! Not yet!"

Sloan's body jerked a third time.

"He's gone," Perreira said, looking at the readings on his
tricorder.

"It's over, doc," Okuna said.

"I need some epi!" Julian ordered.

"Doc--"

"Give me the goddamn hypo of epi, Okuna--now!"

Okuna handed the hypospray to Julian and he pressed it to
Sloan's neck,  then reactivated the neural stimulator.
"Clear!"

"Nothing," Perreira said.

"He's done, doc. Let him go."

"He has to live!" Julian said, beginning manual chest
compressions  again. "Comm Girani! Tell her to prep the
stasis pod for--"

"Julian..."

He froze and looked up at Garak slowly. The Cardassian
stared down at  the body with cold, lifeless eyes. "He's
gone. It's over."

"No. No, we can't--!"

"It's over," Garak said sharply. "He won, we lost. Now we
have to  regroup and try something else."

"I can put him on life support until we can get him on a
neural imager!  Maybe we can--"

"It's too late," Garak said. When he spoke there was a grim
finality in  his tone that caused Julian's chest to feel as
though all the air was  being squeezed from his lungs. "We
just have to go back, figure  something else out. Sloan is
dead and so is any chance we had of getting  a cure from
him. He made his choice and now...now we have to deal with 
the consequences."

---

Julian held Kela tightly as the little girl wrapped her arms
around his  neck and began to babble about everything and
nothing at all. He  breathed in the scent of her clean,
brown hair and planted a loving kiss  on her forehead. She
was still just a baby, he thought as he sat down on  her bed
and pulled her into his lap. Just a baby. Just like Davy
Webster.

Just like all the others who were going to die because he
failed.

He did his best to paste on a smile and concentrate on what
the little  girl was telling him.

"...and then Lessie hit Bo in the nose and Brother Lum made
them both  stand in the corner for like forever!" She said
with big eyes. "Lessie  was mad! I never seen him that mad
a'fore."

"Why was he so mad again?" Julian asked.

Kela frowned at him. "I already told you! Bo took Lessie's
ball away and  threw it in the pond 'cause Lessie wouldn't
let him share and that's why  he hit him."

"I thought they were brothers?"

"Yeah, but they fight all'a time anyway--like ALL the time.
Brother Lum  said he was gonna cut a switch if he caught
them fighting again. What's  a switch?" Kela asked as she
wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

"It's a--never mind. Here." He reached for a tissue from the
nightstand.  "Don't wipe your nose with your hand or you'll
spread germs."

"Is that why Lewin got sick? Germs?" she asked, blowing her
nose loudly.

"Sort of, yes." Julian said, putting his hand on the back of
her neck  and feeling for a temperature. "We'll wait until
Gar--Elim gets here  then we'll take you over to the med
tent. I think you have a fever  starting up."

"Do I got what Lewin's got?"

"More likely than not, I'm afraid." Julian said as he took
the tissue  and tossed in into the waste basket. He then put
her off his lap so he  could retrieve an antiseptic wipe and
his tricorder from his bag.  "Definitely a fever," he said
as he scanned her. "You are definitely sick."

"Does this mean I get to stay with Lewin?" she asked. "I
miss him."

"I know, but he's very sick right now and he needs to stay
where we can  keep a close eye on him."

"Can I visit him for a while?"

"Yes, but he's been given some medicine that makes him very
sleepy,"  Julian explained carefully. "If he stays awake he
hurts and we don't  want him to hurt, do we?"

"No." Kela said solemnly. "Is he gonna die?"

"No," Julian said, trying to believe it himself.

"Shayla said he was gonna die."

"Who's that?"

"She's one of the bigger kids." Kela said with a scowl. "I
wanted to  kick her hard but Brother Lum says the Prophets
don't like us to do that  so I didn't but I really, really
wanted to."

"Shayla was mistaken, and Brother Lum was correct about you
not kicking  anyone."

"Yeah, but when I told her she was wrong she pushed me and
called me a  real bad word. If Lewin was there he wouldn't
have let her do that to  me. Lewin is real good about making
the big kids not be mean to the  littler kids."

Julian thought about kicking little Miss Shayla himself for
a moment.  "The next time this girl hurts you or calls you a
bad name, you tell  Brother Lum or find me and I will have a
talk with her, understood?"

"Uh huh," Kela nodded. "Can I stay with you tonight in your
room?"

"I think you should stay here tonight. I've got a lot of
work to do, I'm  afraid."

He looked up when he heard something that sounded like a
large herd of  elephants. The cacophony of stomping feet,
high pitched laughter, and  upraised voices reached them
long before the crowd of youngsters did.  The children, all
between the ages of three to ten, came rushing through  the
door, their faces scrubbed and dressed in their
nightclothes. The  noise level in the room increased
exponentially as they each scrabbled  into the beds
surrounding them, laughing and talking at the tops of  their
lungs.

The monastery had three dorms set up for the children, each
of them long  wooden structures. The one Kela and Lewin were
assigned to consisted of  a large communal sleep area, a
separate quarters for the supervising  adult, and a bathing
area with multiple tubs, sinks, and toilets. It  reminded
Julian of the barracks he'd slept in at boot camp, only much 
cozier and brighter. This one was for the younger children:
toddlers to  pre-teens. Children twelve and up received
rooms with somewhat more  privacy; two to three to a room in
dorms separated into boys' and girls'  quarters.

Those dorms were empty now. For some reason, the virus
seemed to affect  the older children more than it did the
younger ones. The children of  the orphanage currently
ranged in age from two to sixteen years of age.  The
youngest hybrid child in the orphanage, Lewin, had just
turned  seven, and he, along with the other eighteen
Cardassian/Bajoran  children, were now in the medical tent
under light sedation. The  youngest pureblood child to be as
affected severely by the virus was  thirteen. Why the virus
seemed to target their victims by age as well as  DNA he did
not know. Perhaps, again, it had to do with the strength of 
their immune systems. Younger Bajoran children seemed more
resistant to  illness, probably due to the fact that most of
them were born or raised  during a time when better food and
medical care became available to the  majority of Bajorans.
The rest had weaker immune systems carried over  from having
survived starvation and unsanitary living conditions for 
some or most of their childhoods.

Julian looked over the group of young children with a
doctor's eye  trying to determine if any of them had any
outward signs of listlessness  or discomfort.  If there
energy levels were anything to go by, they all  appeared to
still be healthy.

"It's very nearly your bedtime. I wonder where--ah." Garak
made his way  through the throng of noisy children and
walked toward them. "Look who's  come to say goodnight."

"All of you children need to settle down and get in your
beds right  now," Garak said in a firm tone; the noise level
decreased dramatically.

"That was impressive," Julian said.

Garak smiled slightly in acknowledgement of his praise and
walked over  to them. He bent at the waist and kissed Kela
on her forehead. "Hello."

"I missed you," she said, holding up her arms.

Garak picked her up and held her for a moment before
frowning and  looking into her face. "You feel a bit
feverish," he said as he placed a  hand on her forehead.

"I'm sick," she said, turning big, pitiful puppy-dog eyes
onto the  Cardassian. Garak looked toward Julian, his eyes
filled with concern.

"She's fine," he said, getting up from the bed. "Five
seconds before you  got here she was chipper as can be."

"I see," Garak said, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"But I am sick," Kela said earnestly. "I got a fever and I
feel real  bad." She offered him a pitiful cough as
evidence.

"Oh, that does sound bad." Garak nodded. "Is that all?"

"No. I also got a leaky nose with germs in it," she said,
practically  batting her eyelashes at him. "I think I got to
stay with Dr. Julian  until I get all better."

Garak looked at Julian with a raised eyeridge.

"Well, I need to take her to the med tent anyway," Julian
said hesitantly.

"Yeah!" Kela squealed in delight.

"I thought you were sick?" Garak asked in mock surprise.

"I am!"

"You don't sound sick."

Kela's face fell and she offered him another feeble cough.

"I think we're looking at a future holovid star," Julian
said with a snort.

Lum walked into the room and scowled at the children. "Now I
want all of  you in those beds and under your covers, you
hear?"

The children started laughing at him and one little girl
stood on her  bed and held out her arms to him.

"And what do you want?" Lum asked her in mock annoyance.

"A hug," she said with a bright smile.

"A hug? Now why would I hug a scrawny little thing like
you?"

"'Cause," she replied, still holding out her arms.

Lum grumbled and picked the little girl up before addressing
the rest of  the room. "Now all you hard heads need to get
to sleep, you hear me? If  I have to come in here I'm
bringing a stick with me and knock you out  with it. I'm
old! I need my sleep!" The children laughed and the little 
girl giggled near his ear. "What are you laughing at?"

"You're silly!" she giggled.

"I'm silly? Why I'm gonna get that stick right now and
you're the first  one I'm gonna knock over the noggin, you
hear me? Stop laughing, I mean  it!" he said, dropping her
back on her bed with a bounce.

The little girl scrambled under the covers with a huge grin,
not the  least bit intimidated by the old man's threats.

"Lights out, and I better not hear any giggling--especially
from you!"  he said, pointing to a small boy who snorted at
him.

He walked over to Julian and Garak, shaking his head in
disgust. "I  swear, these kids are going to be the death of
me. And why aren't you in  bed, little Miss Troublemaker?"

"I'm sick!" Kela said happily.

Lum looked at Julian questioningly, his eyes filled with
worry.

"Just a fever," Julian assured him. "We'll take her with us
tonight just  in case."

"Hmm," Lum said, giving her a fierce look. "Go on then, but
just make  sure you keep her. I've been trying to unload
this one for a while."  Kela laughed and laid her head on
Garak's shoulder. "She seems chipper  enough," Lum said on a
more serious note.

"She'll be fine," Julian assured him. "Are any of the other
children  experiencing fevers?"

"Don't think so, but if any of them do I know where to find
you."

"I can go ahead and scan them now--" Julian began.

"Don't worry about it," Lum said, cutting him off. "You and
Brother Elim  both look half dead on your feet. I'll lay a
hand on each of them and if  I feel anything I'll run them
on over. These hands are experienced  enough at feeling for
fevers. You go on and take Miss Troublemaker  along. See to
it she gets to feeling better."

Julian nodded. "Thank you. I am fairly done in."

"Good night," Garak said to him before following Julian out.

"Good night to you as well." Lum looked around the room,
"Now! Where did  I put that stick of mine?"

The sound of children laughing followed them both as they
made their way  through the dark towards the medical tent.

"He's really good with them," Julian commented as he spared
the  children's dormitory one last look.

"Yes he is," Garak agreed. "Gruff, but the children seem to
enjoy it."

"Gruff is one way of putting it," Julian said in amusement.
"He seems to  take great pleasure in threatening them with
sticks and switches."

"You shouldn't be scared of him, Dr. Julian," Kela said,
clinging to  Garak sleepily. "He doesn't really got a stick,
he just says that."

Julian grinned at her. "Thank you, that's good to know. I
wouldn't want  anyone to end up with a sore 'noggin'."

When they got to the tent Julian held the door open for
Garak, who had  his hands full with Kela, and ushered them
inside. He led them to the  scanning room where Okuna looked
up at them from the desk with a frown.

"She okay?" he asked.

"Fever," Julian answered. "Can you get me a hypo?"

"Sure," Okuna said, getting up from the desk and going over
to the med  cabinet. "Are you going to scan her?"

"I think we should, just to be on the safe side," Julian
said, taking  her from Garak's arms and sitting her on the
scanning table.

"Is it gonna hurt?" Kela asked, looking up at the scanner
with wide eyes.

"Not at all," Garak assured her.

"I need you to lay down and be very, very still, all right?"
Julian said.

Okuna held out the instrument. "Hypo--just a fever reducer,
right?"

Julian nodded, then pressed the hypo to the girl's neck with
a hiss.  "That should fix you right up. Now," he said,
handing the hypo back to  the other doctor, "we're going to
start this scan. Ready?"

"What's gonna happen?" Kela asked nervously.

"We're just going to look at your insides, okay bug?" Okuna
answered for  him.

"I'm not a bug!" Kela argued.

"Sure you are; a great big furry bug," Okuna said with a
wink. "You have  things covered in here, doc? I was going to
go do rounds."

"Go ahead," Julian nodded. Okuna greeted Garak with a nod
and slipped  out of the room. "Garak, why don't you hold
Kela's hand while I start."

Garak smiled down at her reassuringly as the machine started
up. When  the images began to come in, Julian frowned,
studying them intently.

"Can you see my insides yet?" Kela asked.

"Stay still," Garak scolded her while he kept on eye on
Julian. "Is  everything all right?" he asked.

"Everything is fine and, believe it or not, we're already
done. That  wasn't too bad now, was it?" Julian asked,
making sure to keep his tone  light.

"Didn't hurt at all," Kela said, her eyes looking
considerably more  droopy than they had in the children's
dorm.

"I think someone's getting sleepy."

"No."

"Are you sure?" Julian said, squinting down at her.

She giggled. "Yes!"

"Are you positive?" he asked, giving her tummy a tickle.

She began to laugh, pure and sweet as he continued to tickle
her. The  sound reminded Julian of tinkling bells and soap
bubbles on the wind,  but as lovely as her laughter was, the
darkness that gripped his chest  remained. "Let's see how
that fever is doing," he said, reaching for his  tricorder
and looking at the readings. "It's falling. Very good."

She looked up at them. "Can I go see Lewin?"

"He's asleep," Garak told her. "And you need to be in bed
yourself."

"Can I sleep next to Lewin?"

"I don't think--"

"It's fine," Julian said. "There should be an empty cot out
there next  to his. You go tuck her in while I go over a few
things in here."

"Yeah!" Kela cried, but the look on Garak's face was
anything but  pleased. He gathered Kela in his arms and took
her into the main part of  the tent without a word, leaving
Julian alone with his troubled thoughts.

He turned on the monitor and examined the images from Kela's
scan. The  infection was increasing; within a few days, she
would be out there  under sedation with the rest of them. If
Kela' infection was  progressing, chances are all of the
Bajorans who had thus far remained  mobile wouldn't remain
that way for much longer.

He sat at the small desk and buried his face in his hands.
"Fuck."

Some time later, Garak walked back into the room and shut
the door  behind him. "How bad is it?" he asked without
preamble.

"She has three, maybe four days before she's where Lewin is
now." Julian  said, not bothering to hide his frustration.

Garak nodded solemnly. "I thought as much when you allowed
her to sleep  in the same room with the rest of the
infected."

He shrugged. "It's not as though we can really isolate any
of them  anyway. At least this way she can spend some time
with her brother  before--" He stopped himself. "I'm sorry,"
Julian offered feebly. "She's  just...I'm sorry."

"How close are you to a cure?"

"I'm not."

"You mean you haven't found anything that might help us?"

He looked up at Garak wearily. "No."

Garak rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Perhaps if we got some
rest,  things might look better in the morning."

"It's not going to get better, Garak," Julian growled,
tossing his PADD  aside in frustration. "Shit!" he said,
scrubbing his hand over his  scalp. "What are we going to
do?"

"Sleep, regroup," the Cardassian suggested, sounding more
tired than  Julian had ever heard him sound.

"Okuna and Perreira still want to know who the dead man was
in the wine  house."

"What did you tell them?"

"I didn't, and they haven't asked again." Julian snorted.
"They were  whispering about it earlier, though. I overheard
them. Their theory is  that we killed him accidentally and
so they've adopted a 'don't ask,  don't tell' policy just in
case there's a formal inquest later." He  looked up at him.
"They don't want to be called on to testify against  us. At
least we know we've got loyal friends, right?"

Garak sighed. "We'll come up with something to tell them so
they can  stop worrying about it."

He shot him a disgruntled look. "We have more to worry about
right now,  don't you think?"

"One step at a time, remember?"

"Fuck one step at a time!" Julian bit out. "These
people--this whole  planet is going to be destroyed if we
don't figure out a way to end this!"

"Keep your voice down," Garak said sharply.

"Sorry." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Maybe you're
right. We need  to get some sleep, but I just--this is
weighing on me too heavily right  now."

"Come on," Garak said, turning to the door and holding it
open.

"Where?"

"My cabin."

"A couple of days ago that would have come off as a veiled
proposition,"  Julian said with a snort, "but even if it was
and I managed to get  anything started, it would probably
last all of a minute and a half and  only one of us would
get anything out of it--barely."

"Tempting as that sounds, I believe I'll pass," Garak said
dryly. "We  need to find somewhere we can talk and not be
overheard. I have no  intention of offering you more than my
couch right now. I'm tired and so  are you."

"I'm not going to argue with you." Julian got out of his
chair wearily.  "After you."

---

Julian stretched out on Garak's couch as best he could and
watched as  Garak started a fire in the fireplace. As soon
as the logs were engulfed  in flames, the Cardassian set the
heavy kettle on the swing arm of the  fire place and allowed
it to hover above the dancing flames.

"You know, I really love the way the monks here believe in
getting back  to basics, but it would be really nice to be
able to replicate a big cup  of raktajino right about now."

Garak turned to him. "You still can. You just have to walk
all the way  over to the med tent, replicate it, then walk
all the way back."

"Forget it; I'll wait for the tea," Julian said, moving his
feet so he  could sit down on the other end of the couch and
stare at the fire. "I  don't know what to do. It's like the
answer is right there, right at my  fingertips. All I have
to do is reach for it but every time I get  close--poof!
Gone!"

"We have to look at the problem logically," Garak said,
tenting his  fingers in concentration. "Section 31 wouldn't
have unleashed this virus  unless they knew they could stop
it."

"Just because they have a cure handy doesn't mean we can
come up with  one in the time we have." Julian pointed out.
"Sisko figured on being  gone ten days and we're at day
eleven. The minute that Peace Summit  breaks Bajor is
history. They'll spend maybe a day or two arguing so it 
looks good then they'll vote to enact the protocols."

Garak sat back in the cushions of the small sofa, staring at
the flames  as if in deep concentration. "I keep wondering
about the way the virus  works. It's a mutagenic virus and
yet, logic dictates, if you had a  weapon like this you
would want to design it in a way that you could  simply shut
it off if it began to get out of control. The agents of 
Section 31 may be ruthless, but they aren't careless or
stupid.  They  would insist on a failsafe that would work no
matter how many times the  virus mutated."

"Which is why we thought we could use the White vaccine,"
Julian said,  stifling a yawn. "Didn't work."

"But it did--in a way. The vaccine shut the virus off for
nearly two days."

"Then came back in spades."

"What if we--"

"Won't work," Julian said, shaking his head. "I know what
you're  thinking, but no. It doesn't work that way."

"Then what about something else entirely? The virus is an
organic  nanite, correct?"

"You want to try that EM pulse theory you had?" Julian
supplied. "It's  possible, but we're not dealing with a type
of technology we've ever  seen before. For all we know it
could cause it to mutate again."

"Founder and Borg technology..." Garak muttered. "The answer
is in there  somewhere."

"Well, unfortunately the only Founder we know is Odo and he
really  doesn't know anything about his people. Even if he
did, Fig isn't going  to allow him to take a shuttle down.
Besides, Founder technology is only  half of it. There are
no Borg in Starfleet."

"There are former Borg," Garak pointed out. "Perhaps there
is something  in their medical histories that could give you
a clue as to how to proceed?"

"Maybe." Julian thought about it. "If I could figure out how
they  created the virus then I could find a way to stop it.
Did Maehark's  contact in the Idanian Intelligence Service
find anything?"

"They went through Phlox's apartment but his computer
systems were  completely wiped clean. Sloan probably took
care of that before he  assassinated him."

"It just couldn't be that easy, could it?" Julian grumbled.
"Still, most  of Phlox's earlier work is in the database. We
know he made this damn  thing; if we start there maybe we
can figure out how he did it."

"How long do you think it will take?"

"Weeks, months. It's definitely not something that can be
done in a few  days but if I can show that we're making some
progress maybe that will  be enough." The pot began to steam
and Garak got up to retrieve some  mugs from the table. The
thoughts that had plagued him all day  resurfaced as he
thought about all that would happen should they not be 
successful in delaying the General Assembly's decision.
"Garak?"

"Yes?" he said, setting the cups on the low table, then
reaching for the  cast iron pot with a thick hot pad. "I
don't keep sugar in my cabin, I  apologize."

"I'll deal with it," Julian said as he watched Garak pour
the steaming  water over the tea leaves. "I've been meaning
to talk to you about what  happened today, but I confess I
really don't know how to...I don't know,  approach it with
you?"

"I knew you would bring it up sooner or later," Garak
replied, handing  him his cup. "Just ask what you need to
ask, doctor. You won't offend me  and it's far too late and
we're far too tired for polite dissemblance."

"The boy--is he really going to be killed if the General
Assembly votes  to destroy Bajor?"

Garak didn't answer, he merely gave him an inscrutable look
and asked,  "What do you think?"

"Honestly?" Julian said, staring into his cup and watching
as the leaves  sank to the bottom. "I don't know. I want to
believe you would never do  something like that, that you
could never do that to a child, but isn't  that what the
Federation is planning to do to every man, woman, and  child
on Bajor? I believe in the idea of how the good of the many 
outweighs the good of the few, but as a doctor I see the
suffering of  the individuals who fall into the lesser
category and I'm not sure how  to reconcile the two things.
Just like I'm not sure how to reconcile the  way I feel
about you and us and how I felt when I heard what you said 
during the interrogation."

"That's why I didn't want you to be there," Garak said
quietly.

Julian looked up at him and took a deep breath. "I realize
that now. I  just--I wanted to see Sloan suffer for what
he's put us through--for  what he's still putting us
through. I wanted him to physically hurt. I  couldn't
understand how merely talking to him could possibly hurt
more  than physical torture, and then later, after you began
to speak to him,  I realized that torturing him would have
been far less inhumane."

"And does that change how you feel about me?" Garak asked
quietly as he  sipped his tea.

Julian thought about that. "No, I suppose it doesn't. You
said what you  said for a reason, but I still want to know;
is David in danger?"

"If I said he was, what then?"

"I would try to stop it."

"Why?"

"Why?" Julian frowned. "Because he's just an innocent child.
He has  nothing to do with any of this."

"So are the children here. They had no control over anything
that has  happened to them. They don't know anything about
what is happening here.  They are innocent victims, as
innocent as any other child, and yet they  have had to
endure more loss and pain than most of the adults who are 
even now plotting their deaths. It isn't even about them,
but about some  political gambit to take over the wormhole.
Because one small group has  decided that they want control
over something the Bajorans own and that  could give them an
advantage over their enemy, they are willing to  destroy
them. I'm not judging their logic, doctor. My people would
not  hesitate to do the same thing if they were in the same
position, but am  I not entitled to seek some small revenge
for the deaths of all these  people if it is within my power
to do so? Section 31 and the Federation  have decided that
the lives of three billion people mean nothing--"

"Technically they haven't made that decision yet," Julian
objected.  "When Sisko finds out about it he may be able to
convince them otherwise."

"He doesn't get a vote in the General Assembly. Some other
person with  their own objectives who has never seen Bajor
and has no reason to  protect anyone but himself and his own
interests has that vote. Perhaps  you are right and the vote
will not be passed, but if you are not and  the decision
comes down against us, what then? We die, period. We become 
nothing more than a sad footnote in the history of your
people. So, why  shouldn't Sloan pay for his part in this?
Why shouldn't his grandson pay  for this with his life as
Ziyal paid with hers? For that matter, why  shouldn't I ask
Maehark to arrange it so that Ross's children and 
grandchildren pay or better yet, place a bomb within the UFP 
headquarters which would eliminate everyone within the
General Assembly?"

"You didn't, did you?" Julian asked in alarm.

Garak didn't answer him. "Why should I care what happens to
any person  who had some hand in this or any member of their
families?"

"Because it's wrong!" Julian stated emphatically. "Killing
one boy or a  thousand other people won't change anything
that's happening here! It  won't stop anything, it won't fix
the problem! You'd just be propagating  a vicious cycle,
can't you see that? It would just mean more death, more 
suffering, more victims."

"The men who came up with this virus didn't seem to care,"
Garak said  pointedly. "They decided that killing us is
better than going to war  with their true enemy. And what of
the Dominion? Even if they get their  way and the wormhole
is destroyed, it won't stop anything. There are  still
Dominion agents operating within the Alpha Quadrant, we know
that.  If they are truly determined, they will find a way to
still make their  advance into our space. They are merely
delaying the inevitable and at  the expense of billions of
innocent people."

"Don't--" Julian grimaced in frustration. "Just tell me; is
there a  bomb? What are you planning, Garak?"

Garak didn't say anything for a long moment. Instead he took
another sip  of his tea and stared into the fire. Just when
Julian thought he was  going to scream if he didn't answer,
he said, "No."

"No bomb? And what about the boy?"

"The boy will live a long and happy life," Garak said
quietly.

Julian breathed a sigh of relief. "I knew you wouldn't do
it."

"Did you?" Garak asked with hooded eyes. "I could have, and
not so long  ago I probably would have. Tain was fond of
revenge and he taught me to  savor the taste of it from a
very young age, but I suppose that time has  left its mark
on me. Revenge isn't as sweet as it once was."

"That's a good thing," Julian said, studying the shadows
that flitted  across the other man's face. "It means that
you understand that there is  more to life than catering to
revenge or your own self-interests."

"If that is true then I fear I am in the minority."

"Maybe, but I want you to know that even though you may not
think so,  I'm happy that you've evolved," Julian said with
a small smile.

Garak gave a brief humorless laugh. "You may be happy about
it but if  Tain were alive he'd denounce me as a coward.
He'd tell me I was no  longer a Cardassian."

"So what?" Julian said, putting his cup down on the low
coffee table.  "Who cares what Tain thinks? You are a
Cardassian, Garak. You're also a  good man despite the fact
that you've had to live a not so good life.  Your
experiences may have helped shape who you've become, but
they don't  define you any more than my genetic enhancements
define me. I hid my  true self for years because I was
afraid of being called a freak or a  monster. I was just a
child who had no say in anything that happened to  me just
as you never asked to be Tain's son. Despite that, we both
grew  up and became who we are because we decided to choose
for ourselves what  path we wanted to take. I became a
doctor and joined the service because  it's what I wanted,
not my father or my grandfather. You chose to be  here
because you wanted to make a family even though your society
sees  hybrids as an abomination. You saw past that, Garak;
Lewin has a father  because you saw more than just who his
biological parents were. You saw  past all of that and that
makes you a far better man than Enabran Tain  ever was."

He stared into the flames. "Perhaps, but it doesn't change
anything,  does it? Tomorrow Lewin will still be sick and we
still won't have a  cure."

"I'll look into what you suggested tomorrow. Like you said:
the answer  is there, we just have to find it."

Garak got up from the couch. "I'll go find you a blanket."

"Thanks."

The tension that had gripped Julian's chest earlier had
loosened  somewhat, but it was still there. Despite what
he'd said to Garak about  revenge, he knew he also had been
tempted to take an eye for an eye when  Sloan was alive and
strapped to a chair in the wine house. The fact that  he
might have deserved such violence didn't change things.
Garak had  obviously evolved, but did that mean he had
de-evolved? Or was the man  who wanted to inflict pain upon
Sloan merely who he had been all along?

For years he had preached to Garak about Federation
philosophies only to  discover that in the end all of it
meant absolutely nothing. He had  accused Garak of being a
hypocrite for choosing to take up a faith he  didn't truly
believe in, but wasn't he the greater hypocrite for all of 
that?

"Here," Garak said, handing him a thick quilt.

"Thank you."

"Will you be all right on the couch?"

Julian arched an eyebrow at the short sofa ruefully. "It
will be a  squeeze, but I've slept on worse."

Garak looked at the piece of furniture. "If you would like,
you are  welcome to use my bed instead."

"You won't fit on this thing any better than I will," Julian
said,  shaking his head.

"The beds in the monk's quarters are somewhat larger than
the ones in  the guest cabins. Not much larger, but two can
share easily enough."

Julian looked up at him in surprise.

"We both need to get a good night's sleep." Garak said
quickly. "If you  are uncomfortable with the idea then I
can--"

"No, that's fine," Julian said as he got to his feet. "As
long as it's  all right with you?"

"It's settled then." Garak headed toward the bedroom without
looking at  him. "If you'd like, you can use the bathroom
first. I have some clothes  you can borrow."

"Thank you."

"The towels are on the shelf."

"Right." Julian said, staring after Garak as he disappeared
into his  room before heading for the bathroom.

---

Julian shifted in the bed and tried to get comfortable.
Garak was still  in the bathroom. He'd handed him a pair of
sweats and a tee-shirt to  wear then had disappeared inside
without a word. The clothes were a few  sizes larger than he
normally wore, but the length was right as he and  Garak
were nearly the same height, and they were comfortable.

It's weird thinking of Garak in sweat pants and a tee-shirt,
Julian  thought. The Cardassian always seemed so
well-tailored even in a rough  brown robe. But if these were
in his closet then he must wear them. They  were nice and
thick, he had to admit. He wondered if Garak was planning 
to wear something similar then flushed when he remembered
walking in on  him a few days earlier.

He had been in the nude.

Julian adjusted himself and rolled over. Stop thinking with
your dick  and get some sleep, he grumbled to himself.

He heard Garak enter the room and rolled back over to look
at him. There  was a towel slung around his waist; he was
opening the drawers of his  bureau and quietly removing some
clothing.

Julian studied the play of the low light from the open door
as it  defined the muscles and scales of the Cardassian's
back. He should have  stayed on the damned couch, he
thought. Although he was tired as hell,  he began to feel a
stirring of interest below his waist. Garak dropped a  pair
of socks and when he bent over to retrieve him, the thin
towel  stretched across his tight buttocks and rode up to
reveal his nicely  muscled thighs. Julian nearly moaned in
frustration and sat back on the  pillow, trying desperately
to think of something that would keep him  from completely
humiliating himself in front of the other man. He rolled 
over and buried his face in his pillow so his erection was
tucked safely  into the mattress.

Garak must have heard him moving because he said, "I'm
sorry. I thought  you were already asleep."

"Not yet," Julian said, turning to him, a flush of
embarrassment on his  cheeks. "I meant to ask, um, which
side do you prefer?"

"You're fine where you are," Garak assured him as he
gathered together  his clothes. "I'll be back in a moment.
Did you find the other toothbrush?"

"Yes, thank you," Julian said, then he turned away. "I'm
going  to--y'know." He punched his pillow and snuggled in.
"Don't worry about  waking me up. I'm a pretty hard
sleeper." So to speak, he thought.

"Good night."

Julian closed his eyes and began to breathe in and out
rhythmically. He  did his best to ignore the hard evidence
of his arousal and, sure  enough, as sleep began to pull at
him his penis began to deflate. He was  nearly under when
Garak slipped in the bed beside him. As soon as the 
mattress dipped low under the other man's weight, Julian's
eyes flew  open and his nearly comatose dick sprung back to
life. Garak's leg,  which was encased in the silky lounge
pants he had on the other day,  brushed his own and the
other man apologized quickly.

"It's okay," Julian said, staring at him.

Garak didn't seem to notice his stare or his lustful
thoughts as he  situated himself in the bed beside him. He
turned on his side facing  Julian and offered him a friendly
smile. "Good night, doctor."

"Night," Julian said in a slightly strangled voice. He
cleared his  throat. "Excuse me--goodnight."

"Do you need some water?" Garak asked, turning to his bed
table and  pouring him some in a glass. "Here."

"Thanks," Julian said, slipping up in the bed a bit and
accepting it. He  took a long draught of it and tried to
think of how he could get out of  this as politely and
painlessly as possible. He handed the empty glass  back to
the Cardassian. "Thank you. Are you sure this is all right?
I  mean, I can still--"

"You're fine, doctor." Garak said easily. "Good night."

"Good night," Julian said, eyes wide open and staring into
the other  man's relaxed features. "Garak?"

"Yes?" he mumbled.

"You can call me Julian if you want to," he said feebly. "Or
Jules if it  makes you feel more comfortable. I know that
the, um, well--I'd  understand if you felt funny about
calling me Julian after..."

Garak opened his eyes. "Julian, then."

"Julian. Well, good night." He closed his eyes and rolled on
to his back  determined to sleep this time.

"Julian."

He felt the breath catch in his chest as he heard the
Cardassian say his  name. He rolled back over and stared at
him, "Yes?"

"You can...call me Elim. If you'd like," Garak offered.

"Did...did he...?" Julian licked his lips nervously,
reluctant to ask  knowing how the other man felt about the
Founder who had stolen his  identity. He didn't want to
destroy the peace they had found by  upsetting him, but
still, he had to know.

"No. No one has called me that in a very long time. Not
until Kela began  insisting on it." Garak smiled slightly.

"Elim," Julian said, feeling as though he had been given a
gift.

Garak froze, watching his face intently. Time seemed to slow
then as he  leaned in and Julian held his breath. Garak
kissed him softly and  Julian's eyes shuttered closed.

He moaned and moved closer, wrapping his arms around the
other man and  teasing his lips with his tongue, exhaustion
giving way to primal need.

He felt Garak's hands caress his back as he explored his
mouth with his  tongue, licking and nibbling at his textured
lips. He pulled back long  enough to pull his shirt over his
head and then dove back into the kiss.  He felt Garak's
hands move down to his waist and push the sweatpants off  of
his hips and out of his way. He lifted up and quickly
undressed  himself, watching as Garak did the same. His
eyes, already adjusted to  the low light cast off from the
moons which were visible through the  narrow windows,
watched as Garak exposed himself to him. He tracked the 
play of moonlight over his elaborately embellished chest
down his torso  until they rested upon the evidence of his
own desire. Julian reached  out and gripped him at the base
of his shaft, pumping him experimentally  as he reclaimed
the Cardassian's mouth. Garak moaned and reached for  Julian
as well. He felt flush with heat as Garak's mouth left his
to  trail over his cheek to his ear. When his tongue flicked
out to taste  his earlobe he squirmed and gasped as teeth
began to worry the tender flesh.

He ran his hand over the ridges of Garak's neck, squeezing 
experimentally. He was rewarded by an answering moan. He
shifted his  weight, rolling over until the Cardassian was
underneath him. He kissed  him once again then moved lower,
licking and sucking at the smooth, soft  scales of Garak's
throat and down to his broad chest. He tongue dipped  into
the elaborate whirling indention at the center then he moved
to  take one of Garak's tight, hard nipples into his mouth.
The Cardassian  cried out and jerked his hips, grinding them
against Julian's own as  pleasure flooded them both. He
lifted his body up, bracing his arms on  either side of his
companion and ground their erections together,  pumping with
his hips. It wasn't enough, though. He reached down with 
one hand and gripped them both, stroking them at the same
time as best  he could.

Garak moved, rolling them back over until he was in the
position of  dominance. The covers were beginning to tangle
around their legs so  Julian kicked them off, his eyes shut
as he felt Garak explore him.  Garak sucked at his throat as
his hand replaced the one Julian had  wrapped around them
both and began to stroke them in time with the  thrust of
his hips. "Oh God, you feel so fucking good..." Julian
breathed.

Garak kissed him, then moved lower on his body until his
mouth was level  to Julian's groin. Julian shut his eyes and
breathed as he felt himself  being sucked into the wet heat
of Garak's mouth. His brain shut down  until all he could
think about was Garak's tongue and the hand that  still
gripped him, moving up and down as his soft lips wrapped
around him.

"Wait-wait--" Julian said as his balls began to tighten and
draw up. He  pushed Garak onto his back and nuzzled at his
erection, drawing the  clean scent of soap and musk into his
lungs before taking him into his  mouth. He was careful to
tuck his lips over his teeth as he swallowed  him, his
tongue caressing the shaft. He felt Garak's fingers tangle
in  his sweat damp hair as he gripped his hips to bring him
further in his  mouth. Julian wrapped his fingers around the
other man's shaft,  squeezing him as he provided a buffer
against being choked by the rigid  length of his lover.

Garak spread his legs, drawing his knees up to give Julian
more room to  maneuver. Julian lifted his head and stared at
the almost unbelievable  sight of Garak laid out before him
like a feast, his most intimate self  exposed and vulnerable
to his heated gaze. He brought his hand to his  mouth and
gathered some saliva then reached between the Cardassian's 
thighs to reach for his opening. As his fingers began to
explore him he  took him once again into his mouth, his
clever physician's fingers  finding his prostate with
unerring accuracy. He fingered him as he  licked and sucked
at his organ.

"More!" Garak gasped, pushing down and forcing Julian's
finger deeper.

Julian lifted his head, "How much more?" he asked.

Garak stilled and locked his eyes onto Julian's.

"Do you have anything?" Julian asked, seeing the answer
within his eyes.

"Some lotion in the bathroom."

"Stay there," Julian said, bounding off of the bed and
heading out of  the room. He opened the cabinet on the wall
and quickly scanned its  contents until he found a small,
unmarked bottle of lotion. He opened it  and sniffed the
contents then squirted some onto his fingers and tested  it.
Satisfied that it would do, he went back to the room.

The sight that greeted him nearly left him breathless. He
had never seen  Garak like this; never thought he ever
would. Naked, exposed, and almost  unbearably beautiful. Why
did it take him so long to see that?

"Are you coming?" Garak asked.

Julian walked to the bed and kissed him gently, lovingly. He
moved on  top of him and kissed his cheek, his ear, his
throat, then nibbled at  the twin ridges leading down the
side of his ear and followed them up  until he could dip his
tongues into the delicate whorls. He teased him  until Garak
was practically growling with need then lifted up to squirt 
a  generous amount of lotion onto his fingers and felt for
the other  man's opening once again. As he began to stretch
him, Garak's head fell  back and he began to claw at the
sheets. Julian removed his hand,  rubbing the excess lotion
on his shaft then pressed against him until he  slowly began
to slip inside.

"Fuck!" he breathed, shutting his eyes and reveling in the
tight grip of  Garak's body. He began to thrust raggedly
inside of him, reaching for  Garak's erection and pumping it
up and down quickly because he knew he  wouldn't last long.

He felt Garak's shaft grow harder in his grip, smelled the
release of  musk and heat as Garak neared his orgasm and he
let go allowing the  explosion to take over.

He roared with relief and release as he came, some part of
him  acknowledging the splatter of wetness on his stomach as
Garak's knees  locked tighter, squeezing him as he erupted
as well.

He shuddered and gasped, dropping his forehead to Garak's
open mouth and  feeling the Cardassian plant tender kisses
there as the soft glow of  satisfaction replaced the heat of
sex. He rolled off of him then tugged  Garak closer, holding
him in a loose but loving embrace. He kissed him  again then
turned to reach for his discarded shirt which lay on the 
floor beside the bed. He wiped off his hands and then
scrubbed his  stomach and groin, then did the same for
Garak, who watched him minister  to him with bright,
inscrutable eyes.

He tossed the shirt aside and reached for the tangled
covers, kicking  them straight. He then held out his arms in
invitation. Garak kissed him  briefly and pillowed his head
on Julian's shoulder.

Julian smiled and said, "I thought you said we were going to
take things  slow."

"Five and a half years is slow enough," Garak said sleepily.

"Good point," Julian said, closing his eyes and allowing
exhaustion to  take over at last.

---
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A Quote: "When we long for life without
difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary
winds and diamonds are made under pressure."

- Peter Marshall
---

Julian looked down into Ziyal's face for the last time
before closing the body bag and asking one of the monks to
transfer her remains to the monastery's cold room. She had
been a sweet young woman, he thought: Jake had been a lucky
man.

Her autopsy had revealed something he should have suspected;
the mutation hadn't begun in her nervous tissue but in her
bloodstream. From what he could figure out, the White-based
drug had caused the virus particles to mutate more or less
on contact, transforming the virions into killing machines
and unleashing them not just onto her already-weakened
nervous system but also onto her respiratory system. Ziyal
had become a walking, breathing virus factory, spreading
contagion wherever she went, and that was why the adults,
the older children, and Kela had been the first to show
signs of infection: they had been at her wedding.

He should have seen it earlier, though. It normally took
days, even weeks for drugs administered by hypo to fully
penetrate the nervous system, and although the White base
had sped up penetration of the ganglia, the drug had at the
time of her death still been concentrated in her
bloodstream.

There was something else as well. His scan of Ziyal had
confirmed that the original, unmutated virus had first
invaded her system via her lower respiratory tract. The
mutated virus, on the other hand, seemed to be concentrated
in the pharynx and larynx of those that had caught it from
her. What had made the virus change its method of infection,
he wondered. Was that the clue they-

"Doctor?"

He looked up; Garak had just entered the scanning room. The
greeting on his lips died, however, as he took in the grim
look on the other man's face. "What?"

"Captain Figueiredo just commed me," Garak said. "Starfleet
has ordered all non-Bajorans to evacuate the system."

"Oh, God," Julian murmured as he took in a deep breath.
"It's happening."

He nodded. "The summit broke this morning. The General
Assembly is scheduled to meet in less than ten hours to
discuss the situation, according to Captain Figueiredo's
superior, Admiral Gilhouley."

"Son of a bitch."

"I can't help but agree."

Julian shook his head. "Ten hours."

Garak spoke again. "Captain Figueiredo assured me that she
would give you, Nurse Perreira, and Dr. Okuna what time she
can, but when the order comes she will have no choice but to
allow one of the medical vessels orbiting the planet to lock
on and beam you up."

"Beam *us* up," Julian said, correcting him. "That means you
as well."

Garak shuffled his feet. "No, not right away."

"Why not?"

"I've made special arrangements with the captain," he said,
his eyes on the floor. "She's agreed to allow me to stay
until the last minute because of the children."

"What about our plan?"

"I have to be here to make sure the children and Dr. Girani
are beamed up safely. Momo can attempt a second beam up."

"That wasn't the plan!" Julian said roughly as he got to his
feet. "They'll be all over her ship within seconds!"

"The children will beam up first, then she'll piggyback the
signal and hold our patterns in the buffer. Theoretically,
it should--"

He glared at Garak. "Theoretically? It's - it's suicide and
you know it! The odds of a Starfleet transporter being able
to do something like that are a million to one, much less
the transporter of a private vessel! And that's just if
you're dealing with a single energy pattern in the
buffer--you said *we* so I assume you're going to attempt to
save more people?"

"Myself, Krath, and four other children," Garak replied. "If
Bajor is destroyed, we must save at least one member of her
government. We need a credible witness to testify that
Section 31 was responsible for this, and I can't be that
witness."

"That wasn't the plan," Julian repeated, advancing on Garak
and placing his hands on his shoulders. He looked deeply
into the other man's eyes and made sure to speak softly but
firmly. "You and I will be beamed up to the ships together
and *Girani* will make sure the children are saved later."

"Julian--" Garak began in a tone Julian knew all too well.

"No!" He shook his head. "Damn it! You aren't doing this!"

"We have to save as many as we can," Garak said, his chin
set.

"Yes, and six is as many as we can save. You attempt this
and you will be risking all our lives, not just your own.
Please," he said, "just once, just this one time, put aside
your--your pig-headed nature and listen to me! I am telling
you! This will not work! The risk far outweighs the
rewards!"

Garak dropped his eyes. "I realize that the odds are not in
our favor, but this is how it has to be. I've already made
the arrangements with Momo."

The matter-of-fact tone in which Garak spoke made Julian's
head ache and his chest tighten with fear. Unable to come up
with anything else to convince his companion to listen to
him, Julian simply said, "I love you."

Garak's eyes widened in shock. "But--"

"I know that it's fast," Julian continued, forestalling any
argument. "I know that. I know I don't have any right to ask
you to listen to me but it's true. I love you--God, I love
you so fucking much." He took a breath and got his emotions
back under control, meeting Garak's eyes again as he rested
a hand on his shoulder. "And after all the shit we've been
through I *cannot* lose you, do you understand me? I can't
risk it--not now. Not yet, Garak. It's too much to ask."

"Julian--"

"No, Elim," he said, interrupting him. "I can only take so
much and, damn it, I am telling you right now that you have
to do as I say! I don't care how that sounds, I don't care
if I come off as some kind of arrogant controlling arse, but
this is it. No more, do you hear me?! You and I are going to
survive this, and we are going to survive it together--all
four of us." He took Garak's hand. "We're going to take
Lewin and Kela and the others and find somewhere to regroup
and figure out what to do next, but I am not doing this
without you. I can't--I can't do this without--without..."
He closed his eyes against the sting of the emotions
threatening to overwhelm him.

He felt textured fingertips brush his cheeks; he looked up
into Garak's soft blue eyes. "I will try my best to survive
this, I promise," he said.

"That's not good enough."

Garak looked away. "Perhaps we can...we have ten hours to
come up with a different plan. It's possible that we'll be
able to figure something else out."

"Ten hours?" Julian said incredulously.

"Ten hours is all we have. We've made do before with less in
far worse circumstances."

"Worse--?"

"Look around," he said. "No guards, no force fields, no
enemy ships firing at us..."

"Oh, yeah: ten hours under these circumstances is
practically a walk in the park," Julian bit out. "Ruthless
pandemic, armed Starfleet ships locked on our location, and
various other niggling little details aside, I'm feeling
really good about our chances now that you've put it all
into perspective!"

"Exactly."

"I'm serious, Garak--"

"I know," he said, his voice low. "Anything that could get
Julian Bashir to commit emotionally would have to be."

Julian bowed his head, touching their foreheads together as
he wrapped his arms around Garak's shoulders in a loose
embrace. "You pick the most inappropriate moments to do
this. What is it with you and dark humor?"

"I like to laugh in the face of death."

He grinned. "You annoy me so much, do you know that?" he
said, before capturing his lips in a kiss. When they broke
apart, he whispered, "We're going to think of something
else, do you hear me?"

"I do hear you. We will try."

"Not try: we will think of something else." He moved away
from their embrace reluctantly. "Listen, I'm close to
something with the virus, I know it. Let me work on this for
just a little while longer. Just don't--don't do anything
stupid or brave or both, all right? Keep monitoring the
transmissions and do what ever it is you do, just please,
please let me try to work on this a little while longer."

"Do you really think you can come up with s solution in the
time we have?"

"Look," Julian said, "you just told me that ten hours is a
long time. I'm only asking you for five. Five hours of me
being able to focus on this without worrying about you, all
right?"

"Five hours," Garak agreed. He moved to the door and
stopped, turning to face him again. "Julian..."

"I know." Julian said. "You don't have to say it though. Not
until you're ready."

"I was just going to say that if you would like, I can bring
you your meals," he said with a small smile. "That way you
can fully concentrate on the task at hand."

"Oh, right; thanks," Julian said, feeling like a complete
idiot.

"And I love you, too." Garak slipped out of the room without
another word.

Julian shook his head, his eyes still on the door. "That
man," he muttered. "I swear he's going to drive me insane."

---

Daniel Okuna walked across the grounds on the monastery
toward his quarters and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was
tired, bone tired, and all he wanted to do was grab a few
hours of sleep before he headed back into the med tent.

He let out a great spine-cracking yawn accompanied by an
enormous stretch, eyes shut and arms splayed out above him.
It had been a real bitch of a night and all he wanted was
clean sheets and a soft--

"Hey! Watch it!"

His eyes flew open and he realized he had nearly run smack
dab into Girani, who was exiting their shared cabin.

Fuck. "Sorry." He moved aside to let her past.

"No, wait," she said, stopping him. "I meant to ask you
something."

"Yes?"

"Um, did Bashir tell you what happened yesterday yet?"

"No, and frankly I'm not going to ask either."

She frowned. "Okay. That's all I needed to know."

"All right then; good night." He headed for the door.

"Okuna?"

He turned. "Yeah?"

Girani looked at him with an odd expression on her face.
"Uh, how did the fetus do last night?"

"He's fine. Machine's working great."

"One more thing--"

Okuna sighed, turning to face her again. "Yes?"

"Do you get the feeling that Dr. Bashir is keeping something
from us? He's been acting very strangely and he never made
it to his cabin last night. Did he sleep in the cot in the
med tent again or what?"

"First off," he said wearily, "no, he didn't sleep in the
med tent. I don't know where he bunked down, and frankly I
don't care. He's a big boy and what he does in his off hours
is none of my business. Secondly, of course he's acting
strangely; he and Garak were standing over some dead guy
yesterday that none of us had ever seen before. I say that
whatever those two are doing, we're better off keeping our
noses out of it. Now I'm really tired, Girani, so if there
isn't anything else...?" He gestured to the open door of the
cabin.

"No, that's all I needed."

Okuna turned back, but before he had taken a single step,
Girani said, "Just--one more thing!"

He closed his eyes and paused at the threshold of the cabin,
then turned to her--again. And for the last time hopefully.
"What?" He said, his tone reflecting his growing annoyance.

Girani gave him an odd look, "Um, about the other night..."

Oh, man..."What about it?"

"I just want you to know that I didn't mean to hurt your
feelings about, you know..." she said, looking decidedly
uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to imply that I didn't enjoy
it or anything, I just meant that since we work together it
probably wouldn't be a good idea to...well, see one another
socially."

"It was just sex, I was a total stud, gotcha--now, I am
really tired. Can I just go to sleep?"

"Well, I wouldn't say you were a 'stud' but--"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Look! I get it! It was a
one-time deal and we both got something out of it! Great!
You didn't hurt my feelings and you know what? I'm a big boy
too, Girani. I'm not going to stalk you or cry foul and
demand that you make an honest man out of me. Are we done?
Thank you!" He turned back determinedly toward the door.

"Okuna--"

"I'm not turning around again. You want to talk to me, you
can do it while I'm in the shower."

She hurried after him. "I wasn't trying to pick a fight with
you! I just wanted to clear the air between us!"

"It's clear. I'm fine. We're good." He walked into the
bathroom and shut the door behind him. "Have a nice day,
Girani." He pulled his shift over his head and tossed it in
the hamper, then reached for the button of his jeans.

"I just wanted to talk to you and you're acting like a total
asshole!" Girani said through the door.

"I just got off of a long, long shift. I'm sweaty, I'm
tired, and I really just want to get a few hours of sleep.
Pick somebody else to make miserable today because, frankly,
I'm done!" He pulled off his jeans and underwear and tossed
them aside as well, then turned on the taps.

"You're being very immature, Okuna!"

"I'm being immature?" he asked incredulously. "You're the
one shouting at me through the bathroom door after I've told
you fifty times already that I get that you don't want to
sleep with me again. I'm over it, all right? Drop it
already, Jesus Christ!" He turned on the shower and started
to step in when Girani spoke again.

"I didn't say I didn't want to sleep with you again!"

He froze.

"I just said I didn't want to go out with you!"

He shut off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist,
then yanked the door open. "What?"

Girani stood there with an annoyed expression on her face.
"I wanted to talk to you so we could come to some kind of
understanding, but you wouldn't listen to me."

"I'm listening now! But did you say you wanted to have sex
with me again or not, because I had the water running and I
might not have heard that right."

"No, that's what I said."

"Now?"

"No, not now!" She scowled. "I have to go to work now, but
maybe, if you and I feel like it, we could..."

"Have sex."

"Yes."

"No strings attached."

"Exactly."

Okuna took a moment to consider that. "Let me get back to
you on that."

He moved to shut the door and she stopped him. "What the
hell is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

He shook his head wearily. "It means that I don't
particularly like the idea of being your boytoy, Girani.
Maybe that makes me weird or something, but the idea of
sneaking into your room whenever you get the urge so I can
be booted out of your bed the minute you're done doesn't
particularly appeal to me."

"So you're turning me down?" she asked, her surprise
obvious.

"I guess so," he said with a smile. "Bye." And he slammed
the door in her face.

---

Julian's eyes were beginning to cross. He'd gone over the
scans Girani and Perreira had taken yesterday of the
patients in the medical tent, he'd reviewed the results of
Ziyal's autopsy, he'd even gone back to the tent and
rescanned some of the patients, but nothing. No explanation
of how the virus had changed its method of infection; no
explanation of how the White had transformed it; most
importantly, no cure. He hit his comm badge. "Girani?"

//Yes?//

"Can you come in here for a moment?"

//Be right there.//

He clicked off the monitor and sat back in his chair,
rubbing his eyes. He knew the answer was in front of him,
but what it was...

"You called?" she said as she rushed through the door.

He looked up into her tired eyes. "Have you had time to look
over the scans we took yesterday?" he asked.

She frowned at him. "I did. Why?"

"Did anything stand out? Anything at all?"

"No, nothing in particular. What exactly are you looking
for?"

"Natural immunity," he said. "We've got a remarkably
heterogeneous population here for the size. There are
Bajorans from every continent and hybrids whose fathers
probably came from every planet in the Empire. It doesn't
seem possible that such a varied lot would become infected
so uniformly, but--"

"--but the differences in viral load are more closely
related to age than to anything else," Girani finished.
"You're right; that doesn't make much sense."

He frowned at the darkened monitor, then reached over and
switched it back on. "Listen, did we get everyone yesterday?
I know some of the monks were busy caring for the older
children."

"I don't know," she replied. "To be honest I wasn't
operating at peak efficiency, and I didn't perform all the
scans myself. Perreira was helping."

He opened his mouth, then thought better of what he had been
about to say. "Is Brother Reven out there?" he asked her
instead.

"Yes, he's helping me feed the patients."

"Ask him to step in," he said.

As he waited for Girani to fetch the monk, he brought up the
list of scans the medical staff had performed yesterday.
He'd almost snapped at Girani when she admitted she didn't
know whether they'd missed any monastery personnel, but that
wouldn't have been fair: had he been as sick as Mirat, he'd
likely have missed a few things as well.

The door swung open again. "Dr. Girani said you needed me?"
Reven asked, as Girani followed him back into the room.

He motioned Reven over. "I'd like you to look at this list
of names," he said, pointing at the monitor, "and tell me if
anyone is missing."

Reven peered at the list. "Let me see...Sister Hara's not on
the list."

"Sister Hara?"

"Yes, our winery supervisor," Reven said.

He frowned. "Where is Sister Hara now?"

"Probably pruning the aguaba trees. Why?"

"She didn't give us a blood sample."

"That doesn't surprise me," he said, arching an eyebrow.
"Sister Hara was forced to work in a morgue during the
Occupation; ever since then she's been terrified of anything
resembling a medical facility. I suspect she's kept her
distance by taking over the duties of our fallen brothers
and sisters all week."

"Phobia or not," Julian said with a shake of his head, "I
need to test her immediately. Within ten minutes, if at all
possible."

"I'll go look for her now," he said, running a hand through
his sandy blond hair as he straightened. "Have you found
anything yet?"

"Not yet, but without a complete picture I can't really be
sure of anything."

Reven nodded. "Give me five minutes."

As soon as he was gone, Julian returned to the data they'd
already collected. If he could find one patient who had
developed a better immune response...

The comm panel suddenly chirped. He rose to his feet and
activated the console.

The face of a slim, dark-skinned woman appeared on the
panel. //Dr. Bashir?//

"Captain Figueiredo? How can I help you?"

//I'm afraid that I need your people to report to the
medical ships within the hour,// she said, her countenance
grim.

"You told Garak we had at least ten hours before anything
was going to happen," Julian objected.

Figueiredo avoided looking him in the eye, her manner
obviously disturbed. //I'm sorry. The order just came in.
I'm afraid you're out of time.//

"But we're close!" Julian burst out. "Tell them to hold off
for just a little while longer."

//I can't. Admiral Gilhouley tried to buy you as much time
as he could. He even got the General Assembly to hear from
Captain Sisko, but--// She looked at him. //I'm sorry,
doctor. You have one hour and then the ships have orders to
lock on your signal and beam you up. If you do not comply
then we cannot guarantee your safety.//

The screen went blank and Julian stared at it in horror.

An hour.

Garak--

"Dr. Bashir, this is--" Reven began as he walked through the
door.

"Have Girani take her sample!" he cried, pushing past the
monk and his companion, a tiny, arthritic woman in her late
sixties.

He practically ran all the way to Garak's cabin and burst
through the door. "Garak!"

The cabin was empty so he headed back out. Where the hell
was he? His eyes scanned the grounds desperately. Where
would he go? Where? His eyes lighted onto the schoolhouse at
the other end of the compound. He took off in a jog and
rushed past the children who were playing in the yard and
stepped into the building. He began to peer into empty
classrooms until he heard the sound of voices in the back.
He walked through the last door. "Garak! Garak, Captain
Figueiredo just--!"

"We know," Garak said quietly. Lum stood near him, his
features gray and ashen.

"You told him."

"I had to," Garak said. "I need him to help me keep the
children together for the transport."

"I can't believe this is happening," Lum muttered. "The
Federation are our allies!"

"She said we still have an hour," Julian said quickly. "How
close is Momo?"

"She's as close as she can get without setting off any
alarms," Garak said quietly. "I've already given her the
coordinates for the transport. Have you found anything yet?"

"Not yet, but I have a possible lead."

"We're going to time it so that Momo transports the children
at the same time you and the others are being transported,"
Garak said, "so that if the ship's sensors pick anything up
they'll assume it's some sort of signal distortion. However,
they'll know something is up when they see the second
transport--"

"You said you weren't going to do that!" Julian said, his
eyes blazing. "We agreed!"

"Brother Lum, could you excuse us please?" Garak asked.

"I'll...just go and ready the children," Lum said wearily as
he moved past Julian and walked out of the room.

Julian waited until Lum had gone before he turned to Garak
once again. "Lum can make sure the children are transported
up safely. You are coming with us to--"

"No."

"No? NO?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it," Garak said, his voice deceptively calm.
"After the second transport they will know we were planning
something. We'll be taken into custody for who knows how
long and in the meantime Dr. Girani and the children will be
on their own out there somewhere with no resources and
nowhere to go. I need to be there."

"So have Momo contact your friend Maehark! Set it up in
advance!"

"Even if Maehark were willing to cooperate with Momo, I
doubt that either she or Girani would be willing to trust a
strange Cardassian with their lives or with the lives of the
children."

"Garak, please!" Julian begged. "We can figure something
else out."

"There's no more time."

"You lied to me this morning, didn't you?" Julian asked, his
voice barely a whisper. "You didn't even consider a
different plan."

"We need to save as many lives as possible. Two transports
is a risk, but if we can save twelve lives it's worth it."

"And if Momo can't do the second transport? You'll be stuck
here. I won't be able to save you."

Garak's gaze was sad but determined. "Then at least there is
a chance that Kela and Lewin can still be saved."

"It's not enough."

"I know."

Julian stared down at the floor, feeling as if he'd been
beaten to a pulp. "Five and a half years. I wasted five and
a half years and now, just when everything is finally coming
together..."

"We don't know that," Garak said, stepping closer and
placing his hand on Julian's shoulder. "Momo is a smuggler
by trade. She was also a damn good Resistance pilot. She
knows how to get past sensors and her ship is fast enough to
outrun patrol vessels. If anyone can pull this off, she
can."

"Can you trust her?" Julian asked.

"I trust her and I trust in her skills. We will see one
another again, I promise."

"Don't lie to me."

"I will see you. We will be together, I swear."

Julian pulled Garak to him. Their lips met in a bittersweet
kiss filled with sadness, longing, love, and regret.

"Swear to me you won't die," Julian murmured against Garak's
cheek after they parted.

"I won't die."

"And you'll figure out a way to let me know where you are."

"As soon as I can."

"I'm never letting go of you again after this," he said,
tilting Garak's chin up with a finger. "From the first day I
met you my life began to change, and mostly for the better.
There's something between us, some kind of link that keeps
us coming back to each other. I don't know what it is or
what it means, but you and I are walking the same path. We
always have."

"So you're saying we're destined to be together?" Garak
asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I'm saying that if there is some higher power out there,
then it has a plan for us, and I don't believe it's supposed
to end here." He placed his hand on Garak's cheek. "You and
I are meant to be, Mr. Garak."

He looked up into Julian's eyes. "Things must be dire if
you're not only making emotional declarations but converting
from a confirmed atheist to a true believer all in the same
day."

"It's a bloody miracle," Julian agreed with a chuckle before
kissing him again.

//Dr. Bashir!//

Julian broke away from the kiss reluctantly and hit his comm
badge. "Yes, Girani?"

//I just ran the blood test on Sister Hara.//

"That's fine. Listen, I'll be there in a few minutes--"

//No, wait! We need you right now! She isn't carrying the
virus!//

"What?" Julian cried. "Are you sure?"

//Her blood sample didn't show any sign of infection, so I
put her under the scanner. Her system is completely free of
virions!//

"I'll be right there," he said as he sped out the door.

---

Within minutes, all three doctors were gathered around
Sister Hara, who was looking around at the infirmary walls,
abject terror in her eyes.

"What makes her different from the rest of them?" Okuna
asked, smoothing down his sleep-tousled hair.

"Nothing," Girani said, looking through the test results.
"She has a common blood type, she has no unusual genetic
markers according to the basic scan we've done, she's had
all the usual childhood illnesses common to Bajorans, and
she doesn't appear to carry any Cardassian or other alien
genes. There's nothing here."

He frowned. "We could do some more tests. I can have a full
genetic makeup done in a couple of hours--three, tops."

"We don't have that kind of time," Julian snapped, turning
to Okuna. "We have thirty minutes to come up with something
I can show Captain Figueiredo. If we don't have something by
then she's under orders to evacuate us."

"Evacuate us? Why?" Okuna asked with a frown.

"It's a long story and one I don't have time to tell,"
Julian replied. "The point is that we have to figure out
something right now, not in two hours." He turned to Sister
Hara, who fidgeted under his laser-like gaze. "Is there
anything we need to know that isn't in your medical history?
Allergies? Medications you may have been taking? Vitamin
supplements? Anything?"

"No!" Hara said, her gray eyes round with fear. "I haven't
had anything like that!"

"Maybe it's something to do with something she comes in
contact with everyday; do you handle any manure or other
kind of fertilizer?" Okuna asked.

"Or do you handle any type of chemicals?" Girani asked. "Or
were you treated for anything during the Occupation you
aren't telling us about?" Girani asked. "Have you ever had a
sexually transmitted disease? Were you raped during-"

"I--I never!" She jumped up from her chair and glared at
Brother Reven, her cheeks blazing as she pointed an accusing
finger toward Girani. "Did you hear what this impertinent
young woman just asked me?!?"

Brother Reven looked at her apologetically. "Sister Hara, I
know these questions are difficult, but they could hold the
answers which could save the lives of everyone on Bajor
outside this room. Do you really think that your injured
modesty is worth the lives of millions of Bajoran children?"

"But..." she sputtered, then frowned. "Of course not. I
just-"

"Is there anything you can tell these doctors which may help
them? Anything at all?"

"No! I don't have any allergies, I don't take any medicines
or vitamins, I don't handle chemicals or *manure*, the
Cardassians left me alone--thank the Prophets for that--and
I certainly have never done anything which would expose me
to-to-to what she said!" she squawked, pointing again at
Girani. "I just want to get back to the winery! I have a lot
of work to do and I haven't been there for days!"

"What about your diet? Do you eat with the other monks?"
Julian asked.

"Of course I do!" she said then turned to Reven again. "If I
don't finish bottling the early wine we won't have any to
sell next season."

"If we don't find a cure for this disease," Julian said, his
voice harsh, "there won't *be* anyone to buy the wine or
drink it! They'll all be dead!"

Hara paled. "I had no idea...I just..."

"The wine!" Okuna suddenly said. "Maybe it has something to
do with the wine!" He turned to her. "Do you handle any sort
of chemicals when you make the wine? What do you wash the
bottles with?"

"The wines contain nothing but aguaba fruit and yeast," she
replied, her brow knitting. "We wash the bottles with plain
detergent and sanitize them with sodium metabisulfite."

"Could the sulfites be the difference?" Girani asked.

Reven shook his head. "Aguaba fruit contains more sulfites
naturally than the sanitizing procedure adds. We actually
extract the sulfite from the bark the trees shed every
spring."

"And the children eat the fruit, so if it was the sulfites,
they'd be immune," Julian said.

"Pesticides?" Girani suggested. "What do you spray on the
trees?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Aguaba trees are naturally resistant
to insects and most plant diseases. Besides, everything here
is completely organic."

"Hold on," Julian said. "Aguaba trees are resistant to
diseases? Could that be it? Does everyone drink the wine?"

Reven shook his head. "Not the children, but most of the
monks - with the exception of Brother Lum, of course."

"Lum has the virus," Girani supplied.

"And you drink the wine as well?" Julian asked Hara.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I drink it! I also test it
several times throughout the fermentation process to ensure
it's maturing properly. I take great pride in my wine, thank
you very much! Our cellars contain the finest vintages of
aguaba wines on Bajor."

Girani rolled her eyes. "They aren't that great."

"Excuse me?" Hara turned to her with blazing eyes. "And what
would you know about it?"

"Because I drank a couple of bottles of it the other day.
Tasted like rotten fruit juice and dirt water to me."

"You don't know what you're talking about! My wines are the
pride of our order!" The little woman huffed. "In addition
to being a rude and impertinent young woman, you also have
a-"

"Hold on!" Okuna suddenly turned to Girani. "Where did you
get the wine you drank?"

She thought for a second. "From the bench in the wine room.
Why?"

Hara's mouth dropped open. "No wonder it tasted like dirt!
Those were our test bottles from this fall's harvest! Our
wines take at least two years to-"

"Phytoalexins!" Okuna shouted. "I should have known this!"

They all turned to him. "What?" Girani asked.

"Phytoalexins--they're chemicals in wine. Mum got my sister
Charlie and me interested in making our own wine one summer
when we visited Aunt Margaret out in Kelowna." He leaned
against the desk. "Red grape wine contains a chemical called
resveratrol, which is a type of phytoalexin."

"You said aguaba trees are resistant to most plant
diseases," Julian said to the monks. "Does that include
fungi?"

"Like mushrooms?" Hara asked. "Well, yes. Neleh mushrooms
grow on the tree bark but they don't affect the fruit if
that's what you mean."

"What is a 'phytoalexin'?" Reven asked in confusion as
Julian sat down at the terminal and began to scan through
information furiously.

Okuna moved to stand behind Julian, reading over his
shoulder. "It's a natural antibiotic," he said to Reven, "a
very powerful antibiotic that plants produce when they're
under attack from bacteria or fungi. The phytoalexins would
still be present in the early stages of the fermentation
process. Scientists used to experiment with them to find
treatments for everything from viral infections to cancers."
He turned to Girani. "Get on the table!"

"What?"

"Get on the table!"

He switched on the neuroscanner and waited until Girani was
settled, then began a scan. "When was the last time you had
to take anything for your symptoms?"

"My symptoms? For the virus?" She shrugged. "I don't know; a
couple of days, maybe?"

"Dr. Bashir!" Okuna said excitedly. "Look!"

Julian rose to his feet. "What do you - they're dying!" he
cried.

"The viruses? But why are they dying?" Reven asked. "We've
been giving the patients antibiotics from the beginning and
none of them have worked."

"It's the White," Julian said. "It's made from a fungus--a
mushroom! That must be it. They knew that someone would
think of using the White in a vaccine and cause it to
mutate. The Neleh mushrooms must be very similar to the
fungus the White comes from. If the aguaba trees have
developed a resistance to it then that's why it--I have to
go find Garak!" He headed for the door. "Okuna! Get some
more of that wine, the new wine, and make sure everyone
drinks at least 250 mils, even the children. Give the kids
an antitox first."

He raised an eyebrow. "I could make up a hypo--"

Julian shook his head. "There's no time, and we don't know
if it'll even work as an injection. You have enough new wine
to go around?" he asked Hana.

"Of course," she said.

"Good; I want everyone started on it within twenty minutes."

Julian ran out of the room without looking back and hurried
to Garak's cabin. Garak was behind his monitor speaking with
a woman Julian assumed was Momo.

//The ships are moving in. I'm under cloak, but the Feddies
still might catch wind of me. You ready to skin out?//

"The children are gathered in the school building. As soon
as--"

"Garak! Wait! We found it!" Julian cried, catching his
breath. "The cure--we've got it!"

Garak turned to him in surprise. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Call Figueiredo. Tell her to call off the
ships."

Garak gave him another look, then turned back to his comm
unit. "Stand by; something may have just come up."

//I heard,// Momo said with a grin. //Good luck, but if it
doesn't pan out then I'll still be up here waiting on your
scaly hide.//

"Much appreciated." Garak closed the connection, then paged
Figueiredo's comm system. As soon as she appeared onscreen
he said, "Captain, I have very good news for all of us. Just
give me a moment and I'll put Dr. Bashir on to explain
everything."

//Dr. Bashir?// Figueiredo looked at him expectantly.

He put his hand on Garak's shoulder, squeezing it
reassuringly as he launched into his explanation.

---

Krath sat at the table, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure
as he tasted the soup. "Delicious. So much so that I'm
tempted to convince the doctor that I need a few more days
of sick leave."

"Sorry, Minister, but I'm cutting you loose as of today,"
Julian said with a smile, sitting beside him.

Danna looked up at them. "Well, I'm just happy to be eating
something from our own kitchens again. I know that
replicated diet you had us on kept us alive, but the taste
was--" He shuddered.

Julian shrugged. "It's funny," he said. "Everyone says that,
but I honestly can't tell the difference."

Garak grinned at him. "Too many years of eating lunches at
the Replimat."

"Probably."

Krath tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into the thick
soup, eating it with relish. "Shakaar is going to regret
missing this."

"When is he coming down?" Perreira asked as he reached for
the salt.

"Not for another two hours; that's when the quarantine
officially ends," Julian replied. "He and Captain Sisko are
coming down together once the Assembly adjourns for the
day."

"I know Jake's looking forward to seeing him," Okuna said.
"He's had a rough time of it."

Reven nodded. "I think that the hardest part for him is that
the cure for the virus was right here the whole time. When
he found out..."

"I tried to explain to him that we had no way of knowing
that and he said he understood," Julian said, "but...well,
let's just say I know how he feels. Part of me still blames
myself for it."

"Doc, we couldn't possibly have known," Okuna said. "Hell,
no one knew! It was just dumb luck."

"I disagree with you," Garak said. "Nothing that happened
was due to luck. Everything we saw and went through was
influenced by someone or something."

Julian nodded. "He's right. Like I told Jake, even if we
knew about the phytoalexins before Ziyal died, her infection
was so far advanced that she still wouldn't have survived,
at least not as the person she was. Brain stem encephalitis
isn't normally survivable at the best of times."

"It still sucks," Perreira said, stabbing at his salad.
"Ziyal died for nothing."

"Not true," Danna interrupted. "Ziyal saved all of us. If
she'd ignored the symptoms of her illness like the rest of
us did, we would all be in comas now or worse."

"And then there's the baby," Girani pointed out. "She lived
long enough so that her baby could be saved."

Okuna spoke up. "I've been keeping Dr. Emile informed about
how well the artificial womb is doing. He's very excited
about the results we're getting; the fetus is developing
normally and so far we haven't had any major problems." He
looked around the table. "Oscar is the youngest fetus ever
to be transferred to a modified AW. If nothing else, Ziyal's
legacy can be the fact that millions of fetuses around the
quadrant might now have a chance of being saved because of
this."

"Although I hate to bring up religion at a table full of
scientists, might I also say that the Prophets had a hand in
this as well," Danna said sagely. "To think that a tiny
mushroom, a nuisance fungus that no one ever thought
anything of, is responsible for so much is truly
miraculous."

"He does have a point," Julian said. "If the Prophets are
responsible for all this, then they couldn't have picked a
better way to insure the Federation's interest in keeping
Bajor safe then those plants. Think about it; aguaba trees
and neleh mushrooms only grow on Bajor and only on this
continent, and they could be the key to figuring out how to
crack the White problem once and for all, which could turn
Bajor into a major asset in the war against the Dominion."
Everyone looked at him in shocked surprise. "What?"

"Are you getting religion, Doc?" Perreira asked.

"Let's just say I'm learning to keep an open mind," Julian
said with a wide grin.

---

Shakaar turned to Sisko as they disembarked from the
runabout. "Go find your son, Ben. I'll meet with Krath and
catch up with him and then we'll debrief the doctors
together."

"Thank you," Sisko replied, following him as they walked
through the gates of the monastery. "These last few weeks of
not being able to see or speak to him--" He shook his head.
"I hate that he had to go through all of this alone."

"You and I both survived losing our wives, Ben. Jake is
strong, he'll pull through this."

"I still wish I could have been here."

"I know," he said. "Go find your boy, I'll be fine."

Ben nodded and headed toward the medical tent where Jake
said he'd meet him. "Anyone here?" he called as he looked
around at the rows of empty beds. One of the monks who was
stripping the beds nodded towards a door near the back of
the room. He walked up to it and knocked.

"Come in."

He stepped through the door to find his son sitting on a cot
in a small, dark room, his eyes on a tall cylindrical
machine in the corner. "Hey, dad," Jake said, rising from
his chair.

"Son." Ben pulled him into a warm embrace. "I'm so sorry
about Ziyal. You have no idea how much I wished I could have
been here for you."

Jake nodded, not meeting his eyes as he let go of his
father. "I know," he said, "but there's nothing you could
have done even if you had been here."

"I could have been here for you. You shouldn't have had to
go through this alone."

"I wasn't alone, dad." Jake said with a sad smile. "A lot of
people helped me and...this probably sounds crazy, but
Ziyal's been with me too, in spirit." He looked into his
father's eyes. "It's weird, but I can still feel her here
with me; it's like she's watching over us both."

"Both?" Ben asked in confusion.

"I, um, I wanted to wait until you got here to tell you.
There's someone you should meet." He walked over to the
machine and turned on a monitor attached to the front of it.
"Dad, this is Oscar. Your grandson."

"My--" Ben stared at the small image on the monitor in
amazement. "My grandson?" The fetus kicked and moved about
excitedly, almost as though he could sense that he was being
watched. Ben reached out and touched the screen, tracing the
face that looked so like his own son's when he had been in
his mother's body. "Oscar?"

"After Grandpa," Jake said. "It was Ziyal's idea. Since
she--since she died, I've spent a lot of time here, just
watching him. It didn't seem like it at first, but now I
know that as long as I have him I'll always have a piece of
Ziyal, you know?"

"I know." He gathered Jake close again as his eyes filled
with tears, willing the remarkable young man he had raised
to feel all of the love he felt for him at that moment.

He eventually let go of Jake and looked back into his face.
"My little boy is going to be a father."

"And you're going to be a grandfather," Jake said.

"A grand--" A lump rose in his throat. "I'm going to be a
grandfather," he whispered.

"And Grandpa is going to be a great-grandfather."

"He's not going to appreciate that," Ben said with a wince.

"I guess it's a good thing we named Oscar after him."

"It might help," Ben said, staring at the screen in
amazement. "Hello, Oscar. It's your granddad."

The baby kicked just then, looking straight into their eyes
as a warm feeling passed over both of them. It was as if
Jennifer and Ziyal's spirits were with them as three
generations of Siskos came together for the very first time.

Ben looked back up at his son. "I'm so proud of you, do you
know that?"

Jake shrugged. "I only wish..."

"I know, Jake," he said. "I know."

---

"The Bajoran Assembly has voted to continue diplomatic
relations with the Federation, but only by a narrow margin,"
Shakaar said to the medical personnel. "I can only hope the
Emissary's address this afternoon helped repair some of the
damage that was done in these last few weeks."

Sisko sighed. "Somehow I doubt Representative Kresti was
impressed by my appearance, but in time I think we'll
weather this. We've gone through worse."

"It will still be years before the Bajoran people consider
joining the Federation after this--"

"I'm not sure if I blame them," Julian said.

"--but we've agreed to sign an agreement with the Federation
to allow them to research this substance your team
discovered," Shakaar continued. "Professor O'Brien and her
team are planning to come down within a few days and collect
samples." He looked around the room. "In addition, the
Bajoran government would like to offer all of you their
heartfelt thanks. We're planning to have an awards ceremony
at the capital in a few days in your honor."

"Cool!" Perreira said, looking around at his colleagues with
a grin. "Eva might just forgive me for quitting my job once
I tell her I'm getting an award."

"About that," Sisko said, "I need to mend bridges between us
as well. All of you are hereby reinstated, including you,
Dr. Bashir, with commendations."

"Thank you, sir," Bashir began, "but--"

"Not to worry: I've spoken with Admirals Gilhouley and Quinn
and your suspension will be voided and removed from your
record. In addition, I am promoting you to the rank of
Lieutenant Commander. Congratulations, doctor: you've more
than earned it."

"Wow, congrats, doc!" Perreira said, clapping him on the
shoulder.

"You deserve it, Julian," Girani said with a grin. "See, I
told you it would all work out."

"Yeah, and you know what an optimist Girani is," Okuna
snorted.

Julian spoke up. "Sir, thank you, but I'm afraid I have to
decline."

"What?" Sisko scowled as the rest of the medical team turned
to him in shock. "Doctor--"

"Sir, I fully intend to continue my research, but I've
already made a commitment to head the Bajoran IDC," Julian
said politely. "Although I do want to continue to be an
asset to the Federation in whatever way I can, my place is
here." He looked pointedly toward Garak, who was sitting by
his side.

"Are you sure about that, doctor?" Sisko asked. "If this is
about a personal commitment, then I assure you that
something can be worked out." He turned to the Cardassian.
"Mr. Garak, you are more than welcome to return to the
station as well. Admiral Gilhouley has agreed to reinstate
your application to join Starfleet, should you wish it."

"That is a kind offer, sir, but I have made a home here,"
Garak replied. "I will continue to aid the war effort in
whatever way I can, and in future that may include
occasionally returning to the station, but this is where I
belong."

He turned to Shakaar. "What is it with this place? I keep
losing all my best officers to this monastery."

"It's the food, Captain," Perreira said, causing several of
his colleagues to stifle their snickers.

"In that case, I probably shouldn't stay for dinner," Sisko
said dryly. He looked to Julian and Garak. "The offer
stands. Both of you are welcome to return should your
circumstances change."

"Thank you, sir," Julian said gratefully.

"You mentioned Admiral Gilhouley," Garak said. "I take it he
has taken over Admiral Ross's duties?"

"Admiral Gilhouley has taken command of both this sector and
the seventh fleet," Sisko replied.

"What about Ross and MacKelroy? Are they going to get away
with it or what?" Girani asked.

"Commander MacKelroy," Sisko said with a quick glance at
Shakaar, "will receive a reduction in rank and face other
possible disciplinary actions for his part in the breakdown
in relations between the Federation and Bajor. Admiral
Ross's story is that MacKelroy overstepped his bounds when
he saw an opportunity for advancement. He also claimed he
had no knowledge of any of the events which occurred while
MacKelroy was in command of the station. The Admiral has
accepted early retirement because of this, and his record
will reflect that."

Julian almost opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp look
from Garak stopped him. He was right, but it still ate at
him. Two of the men responsible for nearly killing every
man, woman and child on Bajor had received nothing more than
a slap on the wrist. He wasn't a conspiracy theorist, but
even he could see that Section 31 probably had a hand in
that as well.

Sisko's voice intruded into his thoughts. "With that said,
I'll expect all of you back on duty by tomorrow. If you'll
excuse me, I want to go visit with my son and grandson for a
little while longer before I leave. First Minister, Minister
Krath." Both men nodded as he left the infirmary.

"Dr. Bashir, Brother Elim," Shakaar said as he rose from his
seat, "if you wouldn't mind joining us in Minister Krath's
cabin, there are a few things we still need to go over."

"Of course," Julian said, rising from his seat. "I'll see
you lot later."

"Doctors, Mr. Perreira." Garak inclined his head to them
politely before following the group out.

"Well, I'm officially off duty for the rest of the day,"
Perreira said, getting up. "If you'll excuse me."

"Hot date?" Okuna asked.

"Only with a fishing pole. Brother Lum said he'd show me
around one of the ponds."

"I hope you're not responsible for catching our dinner,"
Girani said with a smirk. "Otherwise we'll be eating out of
the replicators again tonight."

"Just for that, you're getting the leftover bait. Bye,
guys."

"Well, I still have clinic duty," Okuna said with a sigh.

"I'll stay and help you," Girani said.

"You don't have to."

She shrugged. "I still have a few things to catch up on
anyway, and I want to check on the baby."

"Suit yourself," he said, busying himself by picking up a
PADD and walking over to the medicine cabinet. "Krath said
he's leaving the medical scanners and equipment, by the way.
He also said his company is donating funds to the order so
they can expand. Reven told me that Danna is going to talk
to the head of their order about the possibility of asking
Bajoran Family Services to transfer the rest of the hybrid
orphans here. I thought that was nice of him; from what Doc
Bashir told me about some of the other orphanages, they'd
sure be happier here."

"Very nice."

"This is a great place," he said, looking around. "I guess
since Dr. Bashir and Garak are getting along again they
won't need to assign him another liaison. I'll probably be
spending most of my time on the station again."

"Maybe you can look your old girlfriend back up."

"Alita?" he asked. "Nah, I'm over her."

She sighed. "Good for you."

"I have someone else in mind anyway. What about you? Are you
staying behind to monitor the fetus?"

"Dr. Bashir can handle it." She began to sort through a box
of medical supplies.

"I'll bet your, um, friend will be glad to see you when you
return."

"My friend?" She turned to him with a frown. "What in the
name of the Prophets are you talking about?"

"Your friend--girlfriend, whatever. The person you're
involved with on the station."

"I don't have a girlfriend," she said, turning back to her
work.

"Oh. Well, from what you said the other day, I just
assumed--"

"Are we getting personal, Okuna?" Girani asked, turning back
to him again.

"A little, yeah."

"For your information, my last 'friend' and I broke up
several months ago."

"What was her name?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity."

She shot him a look. "Melinna."

"Melinna...wait, isn't she--?"

"A dabo girl," Girani admitted. "Go on, rub it in Okuna. I
know you're dying to."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Right," she bit out.

"So you're not dating anyone then?"

"Did I just not say that?"

"So..." Okuna licked his lips nervously. "Do you want to go
out sometime? With me?"

She glared at him. "What?"

"On a...date?"

"You're asking me out on a date."

"Why not?" he said, squaring his shoulders. "So? Do you want
to go out with me or not?"

"You said you didn't want to be my, and I quote, 'boytoy',
end quote."

"I didn't offer to fuck you stupid, Girani," he muttered. "I
offered to buy you a burger or something! Jesus, forget I
said anything."

She stared at the top of his head for a moment. "Okay, but I
don't want a hamburger. I want a real meal at a real
restaurant and *you* pick up the tab. And that restaurant
better not be Quark's," she added.

He looked up. "You serious?"

"Why not?" she asked, lifting her head defiantly.

"Okay, sure. Yeah."

"But when we're on duty I still outrank you, understood?"
she said sternly, jabbing a finger in his direction.

"Absolutely." He turned back to his work. After a few
minutes, an idea popped in his head that caused him to break
out in a goofy grin. "So, now that we're officially
dating..."

"Yes?"

"Maybe after dinner we can go to my place and, um, I could
take another shot at that boytoy gig."

"Are you buying me dessert?" Girani asked in a serious tone.

"Uh, sure."

"In that case I'll think about it," she said, turning her
back to him once more.

He grinned again. "I can work with that."

---

After the four men entered the cabin, Shakaar invited them
to sit. "Minister Krath and I have been discussing the
situation," he began, "and I would like to offer the two of
you a proposal."

Krath shifted on the couch until he was able to face them
both. "We are aware of what really happened. We know about
Section 31's involvement in the production of the virus and
we know what the Federation was planning to do to Bajor."

"You know?" Julian asked. "But how?" He turned to Garak.
"Did you--?"

"Brother Elim didn't have to tell us, doctor," Shakaar said.
"We do have our resources outside of Bajor. Besides, it's
very hard to keep a secret in politics."

"Unfortunately, Bajor is still undergoing reconstruction
from the Occupation," Krath continued. "Our government is
still in the building stages and we have no formal
intelligence agency." He stole a glance at Shakaar out of
the corner of his eye. "When the Resistance broke up after
the Occupation, most of our experienced operatives either
went back to their old lives or they became politicians. And
as the First Minister said, it's hard to trust a fellow
politician."

"We want you to head up a covert intelligence agency within
the Bajoran government," Shakaar said, looking directly at
Garak. "The existence of this agency would be on a
need-to-know basis only. No one outside of the four of us
even knows about the possibility of this agency yet."

"Nor can anyone outside of this room know, at least for now,
that we're considering it. If anyone in the Ministry knew
about this, Shakaar and I would both be removed from office.
The fact that we're planning on putting a Cardassian in
charge--no offence--"

"None taken," Garak said.

"--well, we'd probably be strung up on the nearest aguaba
tree," Krath finished.

"What kind of agency were you thinking about?" Garak asked.

Shakaar looked him in the eye. "Section 31 very nearly ended
the existence of every Bajoran on this planet. We need to
protect ourselves."

"You want us to spy on the Federation?" Julian asked in
confusion.

"I want you to protect Bajor," he said. "I still believe
that joining the Federation should be our long-term goal,
but I'm not so naive as to believe that Section 31 or some
other covert agency won't try something similar again. If
this neleh fungus can be used to imitate White..."

"...Bajor could be in danger from the Dominion as well,"
Julian finished.

"We also can't turn a blind eye to the fact that the
Federation still refuses to even acknowledge Section 31's
existence," Krath said. "Their handling of this Commander
MacKelroy and his superior, Admiral Ross, is a testament to
that. It may have been politic of them to give them nothing
but a slap on the hand, but it doesn't instill much
confidence in either of us that they've stopped meddling in
Bajor's affairs."

"I noticed that there was also no mention of either the
interrogation tactics of Captain Figueiredo's crew or of the
dead operative, Sloan," Garak said. "I suspect Section 31
may be involved with more than merely black ops."

"You think they might be working overtly?" Julian asked him.

Krath nodded. "We came to the same conclusion."

"If you would like to decline, then all we ask is that you
not mention this conversation to anyone," Shakaar said. "We
know you both to be men of honor and you have both saved
Bajor too many times to count. But if you do decide to do
this, you will not be alone. Minister Krath and I will
ensure that you have all the resources you need."

"The donations I plan to make to the monastery will be much
larger than the Assembly members will imagine," Krath said,
"and Shakaar intends to establish an official grant and
trust for Dr. Bashir's Infectious Disease Center separate
from the Ministry of Health."

"You want me as well?" Julian asked in surprise.

"That's why we invited you here."

"Do you need a moment to discuss this?" Krath offered.

"No," Julian said, speaking carefully. "I've spent almost
all of my adult life as a Starfleet officer in the service
of the Federation, and I do consider myself loyal to its
people and its ideals, but this Section 31...it has to be
stopped, and Bajor has to be protected." He turned to Garak.
"I made my decision when I gave up my commission that my
place was here at your side. If you want to do this, then
I'd like to help."

"Offer accepted, doctor," Garak said as he turned to
Shakaar. "I presume we won't be the lone operatives of this
organization."

"No, but we'll leave the picking of the agents to you. We
have some suggestions, though," Shakaar turned to Krath.

"I was thinking that you might want to start within the
Bajora Communion itself," the Deputy Minister suggested.
"Keep the operation here so as not to attract undue
attention."

"I agree," Garak replied. "I'd also like to involve Vedek
Merel if I may, as well as a few other former Resistance
members within my acquaintance. The people I have in mind
would not look the least bit out of place if they had to
come to the monastery personally."

"Merel was actually on my short list of potential contacts,"
Shakaar said, nodding in approval. "In addition to being a
damned shrewd woman she also has contacts with the Shadow
Ministry."

"Shadow Ministry?" Julian asked with a frown.

"It's full name is the Ministry of the Shadow of the Eye of
the Prophets," Krath explained. "They're the investigative
branch of the Bajora Communion. Their purpose is to weed out
heretics and pah-wraith worshipers within the religious
body, but quite a few of them were once in Intelligence
during the Occupation."

"Pah-wraith worshippers?" Julian repeated.

"There were once those on Bajor who worshipped the
pah-wraiths," Garak said. "They no longer exist, but the
Ministry does. Nowadays it mostly serves as the Communion's
police force."

"I suppose if I'm going to be living in a monastery I should
start boning up on their belief system," Julian said with a
crooked grin.

Krath rose to his feet. "The First Minister and I have to
head back to the capital but I will be contacting you again
soon. I'll also be visiting you often." He turned to
Shakaar. "Our official story to explain my frequent visits
will be that the virus damaged my immune system and, as Dr.
Bashir is the foremost expert on the virus in the galaxy, I
have put myself under his care."

"It'll also place a buffer between the office of the First
Minister and ourselves," Garak noted as the rest of them
rose.

"Exactly," Shakaar said. "From here on out I will have to
keep my contacts with you both to a minimum so we don't
attract any attention."

"And on a personal note," Krath said as he shook their
hands, "I want to thank you both. For everything."

"Thank you, First Minister; Deputy Minister," Garak said.
"If you'll excuse us."

"We'll see you at the capital in a few weeks," Julian said
as he followed Garak out.

As they walked toward Garak's cabin at a leisurely pace,
Garak turned to him, the corners of his lips turned up in
amusement. "So after years of holoprograms and such, you
have finally become a spy."

"Yes, I suppose I have," he said with a chuckle. "It still
doesn't seem real. If you had told me a year ago that I
would be a spy for Bajor I would have said you were mad."

"And if I had been told I was destined to become a monk in a
Bajoran monastery I would have been equally skeptical."

"Life has taken some odd turns lately," Julian mused. "I
never imagined it would turn out like this."

"Hmm," Garak nodded. "And what about us?"

"What about us?"

"If someone had said a year ago that we would eventually
become lovers, what would you have said?"

"Not a damned thing," he said with a broad smile. "That I
would have believed."

"Oh really?" Garak said with an arched eyeridge.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?" Julian asked, with a
lascivious look.

"I believe that could be--"

"Dr. Julian! Elim!" Kela shouted as she ran toward them,
Lewin close behind.

Julian grunted as Kela launched herself in his arms. "Good
grief! For a little thing you weigh a ton!"

"I do not!" she said defensively as she wrapped her arms
around his neck.

"Brother Lum said they weren't going to start school back
until next week. Can we go on another picnic tomorrow?"
Lewin asked, looking up at Garak.

"Why not?" Garak said, smiling down at him and placing an
affectionate arm around his shoulders. "After all, the first
one was interrupted as I recall," he said to Julian.

He grinned. "Sounds good to me. I could use a good picnic
right about now." He put Kela down. "Now what do you suppose
we should pack for our picnic tomorrow, young lady?"

"Pie!" she said. "And lots of sandwiches!"

"But not the kind with the boiled fish," Lewin said with a
grimace. "I don't think I'm ready for any more of those
yet."

Kela ran toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna go see if they'll
make us some cookies for tomorrow, too!" she shouted over
her shoulder.

"Hey! Wait up!" Lewin shouted, running behind her.

"Rain check?" Julian asked.

"Absolutely." Garak agreed.

---
EPILOGUE: Dreams and Doorways
---

Julian looked around in confusion. He was standing in the
middle of the promenade wearing...he looked down at
himself...his old uniform. That was very odd, especially
since the last thing he remembered wearing was a smile, the
remnants of his and Garak's lovemaking, and little
else--unless he counted the bed linens. This had to be a
dream.

There was some movement beside him and he turned to look.
"Oh. Hi. Well, at least I'm sure now that this is going to
be a good dream," he said, wiggling his eyebrows comically.
"Care to fulfill a fantasy I've always had about the back
room of your old shop, Mr. Garak?"

"As wonderful as that sounds, my dear, I don't think we're
dreaming," Garak said, looking around the empty station with
a frown.

"Well I'm dreaming, but I don't know if you are."

"I'm not, and neither are you."

"How do you know?" Julian asked.

"Because I was trained in lucid dreaming and the only time I
can't manage to wake myself up is during a night terror, of
which this is not."

"This could be a night terror," Julian smirked, getting into
the spirit of things.

"It's not," Garak said. "All of my uncontrollable night
terrors begin the same way. I've never had this dream
before."

"You know, there is this fascinating article on--ow!" He
said, rubbing his arm where Garak had pinched him. "What did
you do that for?"

"You just felt pain; how often do you do that in a dream?"
Garak asked, looking around them with sharp blue eyes.

"Uh..."

"Exactly."

Julian, now feeling very uneasy, decided to test his
companion's theory. "Come with me." He walked over to the
nearby pastry stand and picked up a doughnut. He sniffed at
it carefully and took a bite.

"What?" Garak asked, watching his reaction.

Julian put it down, suddenly feeling queasy. "I could taste
it. Our minds will sometimes integrate pain into a dream,
but not taste." He reached out and touched Garak's chest.
"You're real as well."

"I realize that."

"Where are we? Were we kidnapped?" He looked around at the
darkened promenade, noting that the names of all the shops.
"This looks exactly like Deep Space Nine, only there are no
people."

"I don't know."

"You weren't kidnapped, Elim. Not exactly."

"Tain?" Garak gasped, spinning around and rocking back on
his heels in shock.

"It's a Founder," Julian said, getting into a defensive
pose.

"I'm not a Founder," the being remarked. "It's really me,
Elim."

"You're dead," Garak replied.

"Yes, I am." Tain cast his gaze around the Promenade. "As
dead as a man can possibly be, but that's beside the point."
He turned his slightly mocking smile to Garak once again.
"I'm here to give you, both of you, a message."

"From whom?" Garak asked suspiciously.

"From the Prophets."

"Now I know you aren't Tain," Garak said, taking a step
back.

The ghost chuckled. "Believe me, I know how it sounds, but I
assure you that I am me, I am dead, and the Prophets have
summoned me here to do their will. Ironic, isn't it?"

"I don't believe you."

"Oh come now, Elim! If you can find religion, why can't I?"
Tain asked. "Of course, I had to wait until I was actually
dead to find it, but still..."

"If the Prophets wanted to give us a message, why didn't
they just do it themselves?" Julian asked.

"Oh, they're here. I'm just here to ease you into the
process." His voice dropped to a confidential level. "They
can be a bit difficult to understand even under the best of
circumstances. Also, unlike Captain Sisko, you are both
fairly skeptical toward these sorts of things. The Prophets
decided that you might understand better if you had someone
familiar to help you."

"So you're our interpreter?" Garak asked, still looking at
him askance.

"Of a sort." Tain frowned and cocked his head slightly, as
though he was hearing something they could not. "Ah. Very
well, then." He looked at them each in turn. "They're about
to begin. I'd like to apologize ahead of time; the Prophets,
in my experience thus far, tend to be somewhat...I suppose
you could say theatrical in their approach."

"What--" Garak started, only to be cut short by a horrible
roaring noise that reverberated throughout the station.

The two men fell back, automatically going into a protective
stance as they moved closer together and back to back. Only
Tain seemed unaffected as he stood beside them, watching the
proceedings in mild amusement.

As they watched boards appeared from nowhere, sealing up the
shop nearest them, then more, and still more until all the
shops down one side of the Promenade were completely boarded
up.

"Wait for it!" Tain said.

Just when the noise seemed to stop, a terrible rumbling
began which caused the metal floor beneath their feet to
vibrate. On the other side of the Promenade, sheets of metal
appeared from no where, much like the wood from before. It
slammed over the doors to the shops on the other side until
all but three of them still stood.

"There's more," Tain assured them. "You'll like this one."

Fire burst up from beneath the floor and singed the metal
covering the doors to their right. On the left, the floors
began to shake and debris fell from the ceiling. The each
covered their heads instinctively as the station seemed to
fall apart. When it was done, the promenade was a vision of
chaos with fire and chunks of metal and wiring everywhere.

"I told you they could be dramatic," Tain said with a smile.

"What is this all about?" Julian asked, coughing as the dust
from the destruction invaded his lungs.

"It's about choices." He gestured to the three shops which
were as of yet untouched.

They picked their way carefully through the damage,
following the specter of Tain (who seemed to move through
the rubble effortlessly) until they reached the unaffected
shops.

"Now what?" Julian asked.

"I suppose we choose a door and walk through it," Garak
mused, but when he stepped forward Jadzia Dax appeared out
of nowhere, blocking his way.

Only it wasn't Jadzia.

"Dax? Julian moved toward her, horrified.

Her skin was pale and drawn and her eyes had the slightly
sunken quality of a fresh corpse; a fine pattern of white
electric burns marked her face and hands. "The Prophets have
won the battle," she said to them in a hollow voice, "but
the war may still be lost."

"What happened to you?" Julian breathed.

"In war, there is always loss," she said, gesturing to the
open door. "This way is now closed to you." She stepped into
the doorway and turned, facing them. As they watched the
door slammed shut and the entire station again began to
shake, debris caving in the ceiling until the door was
completely covered.

"What the hell is this?" Julian demanded.

"Papa?"

Julian looked down at a small redheaded girl of around three
or four who was standing in front of the second door.
"Excuse me?" he said, blinking.

"It's over, Papa!" she said with an enormous smile. "You did
it!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are," Julian said in
confusion.

She giggled. "Silly Papa! It's me, Molly!"

"Molly?" Julian stepped forward. "I'm afraid that you're
confused. I don't--"

>From the open door of the shop, Keiko O'Brien stepped out.
Molly O'Brien skipped ahead of her and reached for the
younger girl's hand. The two of them began to giggle as they
spun around in a circle.

"Keiko, what--?"

"The battle is won, but the war continues," Keiko said with
a serene smile.

Julian shook his head. "I don't understand."

"It's over, Papa! You beat them!" the redheaded girl said as
she and Molly O'Brien went round and round.

"But we had to go away, right, mommy?" Molly said, looking
to Keiko.

"We never arrived," Keiko said to Julian. Sometimes to
preserve the future, the past must be sacrificed."

Suddenly the rumbling began again. Keiko and the girls
walked into the shop just as the debris began to rain down
on them.

"Keiko!" Julian started forward, fearing that his friend and
the children would be crushed, but Garak held him back.

"They aren't real! They're just illusions! None of this is
real!" Garak told him.

"We're real," a voice said.

"Kela?" Garak turned to the third door in shock. "Lewin,
what--?"

"It's all right, Elim; we're fine," Kela said.

"For now, anyway," Lewin said, looking down at his sister.
"But it's not over yet."

"What's not over? What does all this mean?" Garak said
angrily.

Ziyal stepped out of the shadows. "Hello, Garak, Dr.
Bashir."

"Ziyal?" Julian gasped.

"What is all of this?" Garak asked her, keeping on eye on
his children who were standing in the door to the shop
patiently.

She moved forward and took both of Garak's hands into hers.
"Do you remember what the Founder told you, Garak? About the
connection between the Founders and the Prophets and how in
their prophesies there is a Bringer and a Destroyer?"

"Yes," he said, still looking lost.

"You're the one. You are the Bringer and the Destroyer. Both
of you," she said, smiling at Julian.

"The--which is which and what does that mean?" Julian asked.

She merely smiled again. "You're both. Both of you are
both."

"You see, the Prophets don't live in just one dimension or
time stream," Tain said, moving to stand beside Ziyal.
"There's a war being waged, not just in our dimension but in
every dimension occupied by the Prophets."

Ziyal nodded. "In every timeline, somehow the two of you
always hold a key role in whether or not the Prophets win or
the Founders and the pah-wraiths succeed. In those
dimensions," and she gestured to the shops across the
promenade, "you failed."

"How?" Garak asked. "How did we fail?"

"All sorts of ways," Tain said with a sigh. "Mind you, it
wasn't always your fault. In some timelines, I killed your
mother before you were born like I'd planned; in others, Dr.
Bashir wasn't genetically enhanced and lived his life out as
a store clerk or a janitor. Sometimes one or both of you
died young, and sometimes it was simply because you weren't
where you were supposed to be."

"Julian didn't become a Starfleet doctor or you didn't come
to Bajor," Ziyal explained.

"But on this side," and with that Tain gestured to the three
doors in front of them, "you've won." He put a hand on each
of the children's shoulders, causing the siblings to look up
at him with bright smiles. "The first two battles have
already been won. This is the final battle: the one that
will either win the war or lose it once and for all."

"How do we do that? What's going to happen? Tell us," Julian
urged.

Ziyal just smiled serenely. "What makes this different from
all the other times is that you are finally exactly where
you're supposed to be, and nobody has come between you: not
me, not Ezri Tigan, not Iliana Ghemor, not Miles O'Brien."

Julian's eyes widened.

"But that doesn't mean you can't still lose," Lewin said.
"Right, Mr. Tain?"

"Exactly, son," Tain replied. "And Elim, Julian: if you do
lose, the Prophets and everyone else will die."

"The pah-wraiths will take their revenge and the Founders
will usher in a new age of hardship under their iron-fisted
rule," Ziyal said sadly. "Don't give up. Keep going no
matter what." She let go of Garak's hands and moved to join
Tain and the children.

"It was good seeing you again, my boy!" Tain said jovially.
"I wouldn't have thought so but those robes suit you."

"Tell Jake I love him and that I know he'll be a wonderful
father to our son," Ziyal said.

Julian felt the world pull away and he began to shout,
"Wait! You didn't tell us anything!"

The next thing Julian knew, he was sitting up in bed, his
chest heaving, the bedsheets drenched in sweat.

"You had the same dream?" Julian asked Garak, who was
staring at him, pale and apparently traumatized.

He nodded. "Tain and Ziyal on the promenade? Yes."

"What does it all mean?"

"I don't know," Garak said, leaning back against the
headboard, his eyes filled with worry. "But whatever this
task is that the Prophets have set out for us to complete, I
have a feeling it will happen sooner rather than later."

---

THE END

Author's Note: Yes, this was a very loooooong story; I felt
every page of it over the last two months, believe me. More
than that actually. The first e-mailed outline I sent
Charlene on this general storyline was on 11/07/2007 and it
was written, scrapped, rewritten, and finished on 1/29/2008.
To me, that seems pretty decent, but it felt like forever.
With that said, I hope you enjoyed it.

Normally, I put the title of the next story in the G/B
universe in this spot, but I won't do that this time because
I don't know what it will be. I also don't know when it will
be written as I have other commitments at the moment, but I
am always open to suggestions. For those of you who may not
have figured it out, the redheaded Molly was from the A/U
universe Charlene Vickers created in her Crowfoot series.
Please read them if you haven't yet. Several of the
characters you have met here are also present there, only in
slightly different incarnations.

Thank you again for reading and I hope you had fun.

---Jen

Editor's Note: Drugs. I want lots of drugs. And rum.

---Charlene

Second Author's Note: I wish to remind my beloved
psychically conjoined twin that this was all her idea and
that I gave her four plots to pick from and she chose the
medical thriller knowing I am a total dolt at that sort of
stuff.

Folks, all the tech speech was Charlene's; don't give me any
credit for that. And she worked her ass off, let me tell
you.

Betcha you wish you had picked the Amsha getting kidnapped
story after all, huh?

---Jen