The BLTS Archive - One Fine Day
third in the Greensleeves series
by ScopesMonkey (melanie.crisfield@gmail.com)

---

Published: 09-28-07 - Complete - id:3808135

Author's note: Greensleeves AU story.

Disclaimer:I don't own Star Trek or anything associated with it, and
am not making any money from this. I own all original characters,
situations, and locations.

---

It was early September in San Francisco, although it was difficult to
tell with the weather the way it was. The sun beat down as if it were
mid-July and there was no hiding from the heat, at least not outdoors.
The humidity was high, which was tolerable if you stayed inside.
Transport stations were getting higher usage, although the government
was encouraging people to take the ground transports as per usual. The
weather service promised a break within a couple of days, and, with
the amount of grumbling going on, it couldn't come too soon.

Julian Bashir slipped gratefully into the coolness of the Starfleet
Academy's medical instruction center's main complex and glanced to get
his bearings. He knew the room numbers for his classes off by heart –
his memory was phenomenal – but he wasn't sure which wing he needed to
be in. He had to cross between buildings, as it turned out, but there
was a pedway, saving him from venturing back out into the heat.

The lobby of the main building was a wide, open space with high sky
lights, benches lining the curved walls and was currently packed with
returning med students, doctors, and other Starfleet personnel, all of
whom seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere. A woman brushed by him,
bumping into him, then apologized hurriedly, looking flustered. Bashir
assured that no harm was done but she was already rushing off, her
expression harassed.

//First day back//, Bashir thought with a wry twist of his lips.
//Can't be that bad yet//.

A sharp whistle distracted him and he turned toward its source to see
someone waving at him over the crowd. Bashir grinned and waved back,
threading through the throng to meet up with Fahad el Naser, one of
his cohorts. They were in their second year together, and it was good
to see a familiar and friendly face.

El Naser grabbed Bashir in a hearty hug. Laughing, Bashir thumped his
friend on the back, then released him, grinning.

"Emirates sun agrees with you," he commented. El Naser had been home
in the U.A.E. over the summer, while Bashir had remained in San
Francisco for the most part, taking a week to visit his parents in
England, but not much more. He had landed a work-study program over
the summer, which had kept him agreeably occupied. As much as he loved
his parents, their overbearing pride at his accomplishments
embarrassed him and he could only take so much of it.

His friend was darkly tanned and looked as though the sun and fresh
air had done him a world of good. When he grinned, his white teeth
contrasted starkly with his dark skin.

"I had a few days at the beach," el Naser agreed amiably. "By the
looks of it, so did you."

Bashir grinned.

"One or two," he agreed. He was darker than his usual colouring as
well. With the heat in the city, it was difficult to avoid getting a
tan.

"With more than one or two ladies, I bet," el Naser said, cuffing
Bashir on the arm.

"I never kiss and tell," Bashir replied. El Naser rolled his dark
eyes.

"Yeah, right, Jules. Come on, let's get out of here, or we'll be
late."

They followed a crowd of people streaming toward the pedway and were
joined by a few more classmates as they approached their lecture hall.
Bashir listened to the others talk happily about their summer
vacations. It would be the last ones they had; from now on, they'd be
doing practicum rotations over the summer. Part of him wished he'd
taken the summer off, but the opportunity had been too good to pass
up, and it would help him get the deep space assignment he wanted when
he graduated. Besides, San Franciso had enough to offer in the summer
for entertainment. He grinned to himself. Especially the beaches.

They filed into the classroom and claimed seats in the gently curving
rows. The lighting in the room was dim and tinged with blue, giving
the place a calm aura. The large computer screen on the front wall was
blank, and there was no one at the podium yet. As Bashir settled in,
the door hissed open and two Starfleet officers came in, both dressed
in the black and green of Starfleet medical, both with the silver pips
identified them both as physicians. One as a human man, with dark skin
and hair, the other either a human or Betazoid woman with blond hair
pulled up off of her face and swept behind her head. She began
arranging items on the podium, then turned to the class.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm Doctor Erika Vice and I'll be teaching
xenogenetics this term. I'd like to introduce Doctor Emile Gagnon,
from our xenogenetics research lab here. He has a few things to say to
you before we begin. Doctor?"

Gagnon nodded at Vice and Bashir felt his interest piqued. The doctor
moved to the front of the class, hands clasped behind his back, and
surveyed them all. Everyone settled down quickly, claiming seats and
storing bags beneath them.

"As many of you know from your first year, Starfleet medical tests a
great many experimental medications and therapies. We also do a lot of
research that contributes to the development of these medications and
therapies. We're just beginning the testing phase of a xenogenetics
project that involves genetic signatures in interracial individuals.
We're looking for volunteers to submit to genetic screening. Now, you
don't have to have an alien ancestry in your lineage to participate in
this. We need control individuals as well, in order to determine base
lines for each race. All we require is one comprehensive screening,
which takes about an hour to an hour and a half, and a consultation
that involves filling out a questionnaire."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across his audience.

"There is absolutely no requirement that you participate for this
course. No extra credit will be given. No one should volunteer if they
feel uncomfortable with the idea. We only want volunteers who are
genuinely interested. And if, if, we found something anomalous in your
genome, we would of course provide counseling and any other necessary
services. I am leaving the contact information with Doctor Vice. If
any of you are interested, feel free to contact me within the next
month. We'll be doing our first round of screenings through September
and if we don't have enough volunteers, we'll conduct another round in
November. We will also be running a scheduled second round in January.
If you decide you'd rather wait until the new year, that's fine. Thank
you for your time."

The class murmured their thanks as well as Doctor Gagnon left. Bashir
turned to el Naser and raised an eyebrow curiously. His friend
shrugged, looking amused, but there was no time for discussing their
thoughts. Vice had turned on the computer screen and had begun
checking the students against her registration list. Bashir pulled out
two PADDs quickly, and fished around for a stylus, raising his hand
without missing a beat when his name was called. He turned one PADD to
the readings they had been assigned for this first class and opened a
blank file on the second one, settling in for the first lecture of his
second year.

---

"Jules!"

"Shan!"

Bashir rose from the bench in the atrium of one of Starfleet Academy's
sprawling science buildings when he spotted his old friend. Tanner
jogged over to him and he picked her up in a hug, laughing. She hugged
him back gleefully.

"How are you?" she demanded when he released her.

"Good, good. You?"

"Fine," Tanner replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes.
"Come on, let's get out of here, find somewhere quieter."

They left together and conscientiously took the ground transport
through the city, walking a couple blocks in the heat to their
favorite cafe. It was quiet inside, which was a relief, since neither
of them wanted to sit on the patio in the sweltering heat. Most of the
tables were unoccupied during the afternoon lull. A young Bolian man
sat in a corner, intently reading a PADD and absently stirring a cup
of fragrant tea, and two teenage girls sat in a far booth, giggling
about something over their milk shakes.

"How about this weather, eh?" Tanner muttered, fanning herself irately
with a PADD.

"You got too used to the Martian summer, I think," Bashir replied.

"Well, it beats this," Tanner said, flashing him a grin as they
claimed a table away from the other patrons. The waiter came around,
took their order, and vanished again. "Mars is all right. Wouldn't
want to live there. But it beats Welsh weather, too."

"At least you get some sunlight on Mars," Bashir joked, to which
Tanner rolled her eyes. "It couldn't have been that bad. I've been to
Mars. It's nice."

"Oh, it's fine," Tanner replied, waving a hand dismissively.
"Terraformed weather, you know. Pretty dull. But it's nice enough.
Good place to visit, but too close to Earth for the long-term."

"I understand that," Bashir replied. Like him, Tanner's goal was a
deep space mission. Starfleet was full of people who were willing to
stay in the Federation core. Bashir was happy to let them do it if it
meant he could travel farther, live somewhere that most humans didn't.

The waiter came back with their drinks and food: iced tea and scones
for Bashir, iced coffee and salad for Tanner.

"How was your first day back?" she asked, and Bashir grinned. It felt
like she hadn't been gone at all, now. He had known her since they had
been nineteen, both of them competing for a place on the Academy's
racquetball team, both of them hell bent on outdoing the other. It had
pleased Bashir to no end to find someone with his skill level at the
game, then had delighted him even more to realize that Tanner was one
of the smartest people he'd ever met. He knew she'd been happy about
it, too. Although she was more used to it from growing up with
intellectual parents, Bashir knew it was still difficult at times, and
it was easy to forget there weren't others like them. Tanner's parents
were both prominent in their fields of engineering and mathematics,
and Tanner had inherited their intelligence. Bashir didn't quite know
where his own intelligence came from, although he'd never said so
aloud.

"It was all right," he replied. "Busy. Oh, and medical is doing some
xenogenetics research project they need volunteers for." He filled her
in on the details and Tanner looked interested.

"Are you going to do it?" she asked, sipping her iced coffee. Bashir
spread jam on his scones as he nodded, flashing her a sly grin.

"I'd love to know if any of my ancestors were getting up close and
personal with any Vulcans. Or Betazoids."

Tanner rolled her eyes, pointing her fork at him.

"You're such a man, Jules," she complained. Bashir laughed. More than
once, his parents had asked him why he didn't date her, and Bashir
knew Tanner's parents had asked her the same question. He had wondered
about it himself; they had a lot in common and were great friends, but
in the end, friendship was all they wanted from each other. He'd never
been dissatisfied with that, and Tanner hadn't been, either.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he replied, arching an eyebrow
at her.

"You know what you're going to find?" she asked. "Human, human, human,
all the way back."

"Probably," he agreed. "They're taking volunteers from anywhere, if
you're interested."

Tanner shrugged.

"Maybe," she replied, biting into her salad and chewing thoughtfully.
"Although, I would find human all the way back, too. And if I didn't,
I wouldn't want to know about it."

Bashir laughed.

"There's nothing wrong with being human," he replied. "I bet it seems
exotic if you're a Betazoid or an Andorian, or something."

"I like being human just fine," Tanner replied.

"Enough about school," Bashir insisted. "Tell me about Mars. Did you
meet any nice young men?"

"God, you're as bad as my mother!" Tanner exclaimed. "Kevin says he
gets it, too, and even Meg. And yes, I met several nice young men,
none of whom I dated or did anything else of any significance with,
Julian Bashir."

"Bah, you're no fun," Bashir teased.

"Just because I'm not a womanizer. . . "

"If you were a womanizer, I'd //definitely// expect you to tell me
about it," he replied, then yelped lightly as she kicked him under the
table.

"Incorrigible," Tanner muttered.

"You love me anyway," Bashir replied. "Now, come on, I really do want
to hear about Mars. Tell me everything."

---

"All right, everyone settle down. Settle down."

Shannon Tanner claimed a seat hurriedly, pushing her pack beneath her
chair, as the other students around her found seats and stopped their
conversations. Attention turned to the professor, Captain Enid
Trippens, who was holding up a PADD.

"Everyone pull out a PADD," she said, scanning the crowd. Tanner did
so and activated the instrument. Trippens waited a minute, then
nodded, appearing satisfied. "Good," she continued. "As I promised you
at the beginning of the term, I've drawn up a list of groups for the
term assignment. Each of you will be paired with one other student.
I'm transmitting the list to your PADDs now."

Tanner glanced down to see a list generating itself on the tiny
screen. She waited until it had finished, then keyed in her surname.

She had been uncertain about this course at first. Cadets didn't
normally take advanced neutrino astronomy. Tanner was one of the rare
individuals who had been looking forward to it. Captain Trippens had
been surprised but had accepted her readily upon seeing Tanner's
record. Most of the people in this course had already graduated the
basic science program and were doing specializations or had postings
that required them to complete the course. Most cadets avoided it if
they could; Tanner thought it would be fascinating. Trippens had
assured her it would be difficult, but had also pointed out it would
look very good on her record and may secure her a better posting after
her graduation in the spring.

The name "Jadzia Idaris" came up paired with hers. Tanner glanced up
briefly but she had no way of identifying her partner. There were
fifty or so people in the course, and Tanner did not really know any
of them. As much as she didn't like to admit it to herself, her blue
and grey cadet's uniform separated her from the officers and crewmen.

A short message flashed on her screen: "Meet me at the copper fountain
after class. J.I."

Tanner sent back an acknowledgment, saved the file quickly, then
opened a blank document as Trippens began her lecture.

---

"Hello, Julian," a smiling Doctor Emile Gagnon said, extending a hand,
which Bashir shook. "Glad you could make it. Come with me."

Bashir fell into step behind the doctor, glancing about him briefly as
he did so. This was the first time he'd been in the genetics research
center. It was a large four story building, divided several into
units, each of which had restricted entrance. Despite this, the
general corridors seemed busy as teams of researchers or individuals
moved back and forth between the units or the replimat.

The xenogenetics wing was one of the largest. As Gagnon led him toward
the testing area, they passed several suit-up chambers for sterile
labs, and one securely barred decontamination chamber. Bashir saw no
one in any of the labs or the decon chamber, the latter of which he
took as a good sign.

They came to a small waiting area, where a nurse was seated behind a
desk. She smiled at them brightly and Gagnon greeted her.

"Another victim?" she inquired, smiling at Bashir.

"So far a willing one," Bashir joked in return. She chuckled and
Gagnon gestured for the med student to follow him.

The testing area was large and open, although it could easily be
sealed from the rest of the wing if need be. There were two nurses in
the room, an impassive-looking Vulcan and a human man who was bent
over a microscope. Gagnon activated the door, which slid shut, and
gestured Bashir onto a biobed. The Vulcan nodded a greeting and the
man at the microscope looked up and sat back, giving Bashir a smile.

"This is Lieutenant Tarys," Gagnon said, indicating the Vulcan, "And
Lieutenant Robson, two of our testing assistants. The actual research
is done in a restricted area. We have seven people working on the
project right now, and we're expecting a transfer in from Mars next
week."

Bashir nodded, taking a seat on the biobed.

"All right, first I need to start with a few questions," Gagnon said,
picking up a PADD that was sitting beside the bed and flipping it on.
"Did you read through the material I gave you last week?"

"I did," Bashir replied.

"Good. Can you give me your full name, please?"

"Julian Subatoi Bashir."

Gagnon nodded.

"Thank you. Now, do you understand the purpose of this test?"

"I do."

"Do you have any questions about the reading material, or anything
else concerning what we're doing with the data we collect?"

"No, it all seems straightforward."

"And you understand if anything unexpected is found, we will notify
you and provide whatever services are necessary?"

"Yes."

"And are you volunteering for this test willingly, without any outside
pressure or reservations?"

"I am," Bashir replied.

"Excellent," Gagnon said, keying in some commands on the PADD. "I need
you to verify your answers to these questions and give me your
thumbprint if you're satisfied that everything is correct."

Bashir took the PADD, read it over quickly but thoroughly, then
pressed his right thumb onto the screen. The PADD beeped, signaling
that the print was successful, and he handed it back to the doctor.
Gagnon checked it over, then nodded, putting it back.

"First, we're going to start with the genetic screening. This will
take about an hour. Then you and I will do a consultation
questionnaire and I'll answer any questions you might come up with
between now and then. Are you ready?"

"I am," Bashir said.

"Great. Lie down on the bed, and relax. We'll get started."

---

Shannon Tanner glanced around, squinting a bit in the light of the
sun. Thankfully, it had cooled down considerably over the past two
weeks, and now fall had finally arrived. The breeze was brisk, but the
sun was still warm. The trees were just starting to turn, so that
there were patches of yellow or red here and there among the green
leaves. The copper fountain to which Idaris had been referring was in
the center of a small courtyard where a number of pathways met. There
were several of these fountains in this particular area of the
Starfleet Academy grounds, and the pathways here radiated off toward
various buildings. The copper fountain was informally named to the
copper statue of an olive tree that made up the fountain's center.
Water poured from the sculpted leaves and branches, falling quietly
into the round pool below. There were a fair number of people about,
including a woman with her daughter splashing in the fountain, two
admirals engaged in what looked an intense conversation, some students
eating on a few of the benches, and people sitting around the edge of
the fountain.

An unfamiliar woman in a blue-and-black ensign's uniform waved at her
and Tanner waved back, hoping this was Jadzia Idaris. The woman, a
Trill it turned out, approached her, walking away from the fountain.
She was tall, taller than Tanner, with dark brown hair and bright blue
eyes and, of course, the distinctive Trill markings running along her
temple and down the sides of her neck.

"You must be Shannon Tanner," she said, smiling and extending a hand.
Tanner shook her hand, nodding. "Jadzia Idaris. I recognized the
cadet's uniform. Not many cadets brave neutrino astronomy."

"I'm sure I'll question my sanity before the class is done," Tanner
replied, smiling back.

Idaris grinned.

"I'll probably think I'm crazy by the end of the term, too," she
agreed, "But Starfleet tells me I have to do this. I'm on a posting at
a research lab in Vancouver. They wanted me to take this class."

Tanner nodded; that didn't surprise her. And it wasn't a far beam from
Vancouver, and it was in the same time zone, so it was an easy enough
thing to work into a schedule.

"What kind of research?" Tanner inquired.

"Wormhole theory," Idaris replied. "So this course fits in nicely. Why
are you taking it?"

"Interest," Tanner replied, to which Idaris laughed.

"What, really?"

Tanner grinned, and nodded.

"Yes," she replied. "I know. Captain Trippens gave me the same look.
But I'm after a deep space posting when I graduate, and this won't
hurt. You never know what you'll run into out there."

"No, you really don't," Idaris agreed. "Would you like to go get a
coffee while we look at our project?"

"Sure," Tanner replied. "And I know a great little place off the
beaten track. Follow me."

---

"This is odd," Doctor Deekeya Medb said, frowning as she studied a
genetic sequence on the medical console in front of her. She glanced
up, aware that she had caught the interest of her superior, Doctor
Eyvindur Oskar. He pushed his chair back from his console and crossed
the room to stand next to her. One of the study nurses, Simcha Cohen,
looked over as well, arching an eyebrow at her. Medb shrugged, turning
her attention back to her console.

She was had just finished a specialization in xenogenetics and this
project was part of her residency. Although she was not nearly as
experienced as Oskar, she recognized that the genome sequence she'd
been looking at was unusual.

"Hmm," Oskar said. "That is odd. Who is it?"

"Subject zero-zero-five-three."

Oskar's frown deepened. He was a human man in his late forties, his
dark blond hair already fading to grey. Medb sensed the confusion from
him, and the slight annoyance. She was half-Betazoid and half-human
and an empath, although her abilities were mercifully not that strong.
She'd met other half-Betazoids who verged on true telepathy and
considered that the ability to constantly pick up whispers on the
edges of one's mental hearing would be maddening.

"It looks like it's been resequenced," she said, to which Oskar
nodded.

"Well, we're bound to run into that here and there," he replied.
"Probably some fix for a genetic disorder. Simcha, pull up the file on
fifty-three, would you? Display it on this monitor."

"Yes, sir," Cohen replied and a moment later, a warning flashed on
Medb's screen that the information was confidential and that they were
required not to disclose it unless necessary. She had seen that
message countless times already – this wasn't the first time she'd had
to check a sequence against the volunteer's information. It was just
the first time she'd seen anything so strange.

"Bashir, Julian," she murmured. Oskar leaned over her shoulder and
keyed in a few commands, bringing up the subject's answers to the
standard medical history questions. Both of them frowned, reading
through the information.

"Nothing here about any treatments," he said, shaking his head.

"It's possible he didn't know, if it was prenatal."

Oskar nodded, straightening up.

"See if you can isolate what was done," he told her. "Computer, access
the Starfleet medical file for Bashir, Julian Subatoi. Display on
monitor one."

"File accessed," the computer's bland female voice replied.

Oskar walked away from Medb, who was busily trying to isolate the
systems Bashir had had resequenced.

"Computer, list all genetic modifications done to Julian Bashir and
their causes."

The computer beeped.

"No such incidents found."

Medb looked up at Oskar, then at Cohen, who had turned around at this
reply. The nurse looked surprised, raising both eyebrows.

"That's odd," he said.

"Computer, where was Julian Bashir born?" Oskar asked.

"Julian Bashir was born in London, England," the computer replied.

"Did he ever live outside of Federation space?"

"Negative."

"Is there any indication in his file that he had medical treatment
outside of Federation space?"

"Negative."

Medb turned back to her console.

"Computer, scan the genome sequence on monitor three and isolate the
systems which were subject to genetic resequencing," she ordered.

"Working," the computer replied. Medb gasped when the results came
pouring across the screen. Oskar and Cohen joined her quickly, peering
over her shoulder at the display.

"What is it?" Oskar demanded.

"Almost everything, sir," she replied, shaking her head. "Height,
weight, hand-eye coordination, neural functions, vision, hearing,
smell. . .  It just keeps going."

She sensed that Oskar and Cohen looked at each other over her head and
looked up at the other doctor.

"That's not genetic resequencing for a genetic problem," Oskar said
firmly. "That's enhancement. Computer, can you give us a time frame
for this procedure based on male human growth rate?"

"Working. Subject would have been approximately five to eight years of
age."

"Is there anything in Julian Bashir's file indicating any kind of
treatment for anything during that time?"

"Julian Bashir was treated for a broken wrist on April 25, 2347, in
London, England. Julian Bashir was vaccinated against the Andorian flu
on September 7, 2348 in London, England. Julian Bashir was given a
booster vaccination for the varicella-zoster virus on November 1,
2348, in London, England."

"Is that it?" Oskar asked.

"Confirmed."

Oskar closed his eyes, putting a hand against his forehead. Medb felt
the flare of realization and resignation in both men and looked
between them.

"Khan Singh," Cohen muttered, almost to himself.

"Yes," Oskar said. "Same thing."

"He's an //augment//?" Medb demanded.

"Looks like it," Oskar sighed, rubbing his hands down his face.

"That's illegal!"

"I know," the older doctor replied wryly. "We need to call Gagnon and
let him know about this. Bashir was obviously just a kid when this
happened, so we can assume he wasn't the one who came up with the
idea."

"But if he knows about it and didn't tell anyone. . . " Cohen said.

"If he knew about it, he wouldn't have volunteered for this project,"
Oskar replied. Cohen nodded, looking thoughtful. Medb leaned against
the back of her chair, dumbfounded. She had never suspected that kind
of thing still occurred nowadays. But where? It would have to have
been done outside of the Federation, where the technology wasn't
illegal. This was too well done to have been done in a facility with
less than state-of-the-art technology. No Federation hospital could
get all of that equipment without having to report on its use.

Oskar sighed and tapped his combadge.

"Oskar to Doctor Emile Gagnon," he said.

There was a pause of a few seconds, then came the reply:

"This is Emile. What is it, Eyvindur?"

"Emile, I think you'd better get down to the lab. We have a big
problem on our hands."

---

The only person at the table in the somber meeting room that Julian
Bashir recognized was Doctor Gagnon. There were two other medical
personnel there: a middle aged human man and a younger woman, probably
a few years older than himself.

And two Starfleet security officers, a Cardassian woman and a Vulcan
man. Bashir hesitated: that was a bad combination. Both races were
significantly stronger than humans, and he wondered why they were
there. Was this standard procedure for reporting unusual results to a
patient?

"They're just a precaution," Gagnon said, seeing the expression on
Bashir's face. "Sit down, Julian, please."

"You said there was some anomaly in my results?" Bashir asked,
slipping into a chair, trying not be nervous. The meeting room was a
medium-sized room, on the ground floor of the research building, but
it felt large and hollow with the six of them there, and the uncertain
atmosphere.

"Yes," Gagnon said. "And don't worry, you aren't ill." Bashir nodded;
the notice to come see the doctor had stressed that. "There are
Doctors Deekeya Medb and Eyvindur Oskar. Deeka is the one who
discovered the anomaly we need to tell you about."

"What is it?" Bashir demanded.

Gagnon sighed and raised an eyebrow at Medb, who nodded slightly.

"Do you remember ever having any genetic enhancements done for any
genetic defects?" the doctor asked.

Bashir blinked.

"No," he replied. "Is that what you found?"

"Yes," Gagnon said. "It is. Here." He pushed a PADD across the table.
"This isn't as uncommon as people think; it's often for something
that's corrected before or just after birth, but this is systemwide,
Julian. I'm afraid that you were genetically enhanced in almost every
respect."

Stunned, Bashir took the PADD and looked at it. For a moment, the
information made no sense. He'd never seen anything like it, and he
had a very good memory. Then the data fell into place and he put the
PADD down carefully, as if it might break, and looked at Gagnon.

"Is this a joke?" he asked, unable to think of any other explanation.

"I wish it were," Gagnon sighed.

"These kind of modifications are illegal," Bashir pointed out, shaking
his head. They must have made some strange mistake.

"I know," Gagnon sighed. "That's why we have to ask if you knew about
it."

Bashir blinked again.

"Did I know about it?!" he demanded. "Would I have submitted to this
trial if I did?! Of course I didn't know about this! How in the world
is this possible?"

Gagnon glanced again at Medb.

"He's not lying," she said, then turned to Bashir, giving him an
apologetic look. "I'm half Betazoid."

Bashir sat back in his seat.

"Of course you are," he muttered, then rubbed his face with his hands.
"Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?"

"You don't remember any sort of treatment when you were a child?"
Gagnon asked.

"No!" Bashir snapped. "I was in the hospital once, when I was six, but
that was because–" he stopped suddenly, realizing he wasn't even sure
why he'd been in the hospital. He hadn't thought about it much; he'd
been so young, and many children had trips to the hospital for some
childhood illness or other. It wasn't uncommon, but he wouldn't have
been hospitalized on Earth, he realized. Or anywhere in the
Federation. If what they were saying was true.

"This was done sometime between when you were six and eight," Medb
confirmed. "But we have no record in our database of you being
hospitalized as a child, not around then. What do you remember about
being in the hospital?"

Stunned, Bashir began to think about it.

"There were a lot of aliens," he said slowly, probing at the old
memories. "And the doctors did tests. . .  And there was some kind of
treatment, but I don't know for what."

"If it was for anything medical, it would be in the Starfleet medical
database," Gagnon said. "All your medical records were transferred in
when you were admitted."

"I know that," Bashir snapped. "But you haven't explained what's
happening. Who did this and why? What was wrong with me before? There
must have been some reason for it."

"We don't know," Gagnon said. "Your parents are on their way from
England right now. But there's no indication that you had any genetic
conditions beforehand."

"Then why modify me?" Bashir demanded. He was beginning to feel cold
inside, and terrified. Someone had done this to him, and he had only
vague memories of it, a child's memories. His memory was exceptional,
that was without doubt, but a six year old didn't place the importance
on events the same way an adult did. Memories blurred, were lost
because of lack of reinforcement – especially because of lack of
reinforcement, in this case.

Did his parents know? They must, he realized with a sudden, bright
anger. It must have been them. They must have done this to him, and
never told him. Like he was some lab experiment, some interesting bit
of genetic flotsam to be analyzed, prodded, and mutated at whim.

"My parents," he muttered. Then he slammed a fist against the table,
startling all of them, but Medb noticeably less so. Bashir pushed his
chair away, startling the Cardassian guard, but the Vulcan remained
unmoved, ready and watchful.

"Now what?" he demanded, throwing his arms out, rounding on the
doctors. "I suppose you're going to lock me away? Send me to a penal
colony?"

"Julian, calm down," Gagnon said, rising as well. "No one's sending
you anywhere. I don't know what's going to happen. We had to notify
Starfleet Medical and the JAG. They'll have to decide what to do after
they've spoken to you and your parents."

"I'm a criminal now, is that it?" Bashir demanded. "Someone did
something to me and you report //me// to the JAG?"

"Julian, we had to. This //is// illegal in the Federation and they
have to know what's going on. No one's going to hold you responsible –
how could they? You were a child."

"You know all about how the JAG works then?" Bashir snapped. "You know
what they'll do?"

"No," Gagnon admitted. "I don't."

"Then don't tell me that they won't hold me responsible!" Bashir
cried. "//I'm// the mutant! //I'm// the one who breaks the laws!"

"Julian, please," Gagnon said, holding up his hands placatingly.
Bashir took a step back, anger radiating off of him.

"Don't 'Julian, please' me!" he snapped. "I should never have
volunteered for you stupid research project!"

"That certainly would have made things easier," Gagnon agreed wryly,
arching one eyebrow. That made Bashir pause, gave him time to take a
deep breath.

"Do you think this was easy for us to understand?" Medb asked, still
seated on the other side of the table. "We know this decision had
nothing to do with you. How could it, if you were six when it
happened?"

"The Federation might not see it that way," Bashir pointed out
bitterly.

"No judge in his or her right mind could hold a child responsible for
this," Gagnon insisted, but it sounded hollow to Bashir. All of his
life's plans, all so neatly laid out, all unraveling now. He could see
his future as a Starfleet doctor disappearing. What had once been a
certainty was vanishing like smoke.

"You need to go home until your parents arrive, Julian," Gagnon said.
"We're sending Imrek and S'Pen with you, but they aren't supposed to
go inside your apartment unless you request it." With that, he cast a
warning glare at the security officers. Both of them nodded, almost
imperceptibly, but Bashir wasn't reassured.

"Already you give me guards," he muttered.

"Look at the PADD, Julian," Medb said, nodding at it. "This isn't to
keep you in one place. You could probably overpower both of them and
be well away before we caught on."

"And where would I go that the Federation wouldn't find me?" Bashir
asked wearily.

"We want you to stay here," Gagnon said firmly. "We'll face the
Federation head on. I'll be damned if I see them hold a cadet
responsible for his medical history."

Bashir was surprised.

"You don't even know me," he said, shaking his head.

"No," Gagnon agreed. "But believe me, I know people who do."

---

"//What did you do to me//?" Julian Bashir roared before his parents
had a chance to fully register his arrival. They were at the Starfleet
JAG headquarters now, two hours after Bashir had been dismissed by
Gagnon. He'd barely had the chance to deal with this revelation and to
talk to Shannon Tanner before the two security guards assigned
ostensibly for his protection were ordered to bring him in. The anger
hadn't subsided; talking to Tanner had only intensified it as her
reaction had fed off of his. The confusion made it worse; Bashir
wasn't used to feeling confused and the emotion was transforming
itself into rage.

"Jules–" his mother started but a JAG admiral, a fifty-something blond
human woman, stood up, holding up her hands. The silver stitching at
the end of her red sleeves spoke to her status as a Starfleet
advocate. The fine lines on her face, particularly around her eyes and
on her forehead, spoke to her years of experience dealing with
volatile situations.

"Everyone is going to get a chance to explain," she said, casting a
sharp look at the medical student.

"With all due respect, //I// don't have any explaining to do!" Bashir
snapped. "This was done to //me//!"

"I understand that," the admiral said calmly.

"I wonder if you do, sir," Bashir retorted. She held up her hands
again, motioning him to stop for a moment, and Bashir drew a deep
breath, trying to rein in his anger.

"I am Admiral Margaret Sommers," the woman said, and Bashir wanted to
rage at her, demand why he should care. But he forced himself into
silence with supreme effort; this woman was probably in charge of his
very future from this point on. It was a terrifying prospect.

"Good," Sommers said, nodding to Bashir's escort. They slipped out of
the room, but he wasn't fooled. They would be right outside, with
other security personnel. "Julian, please sit down."

Bashir picked up a chair, moved it as far as he dared from his
parents, and plunked himself into it. Sommers sighed quietly but
didn't comment, tapping her combadge instead.

"Sommers to Kundera, where are you?"

"Right outside, Admiral," a smooth male voice replied.

"Good. Come in."

A younger human man stepped inside, with Doctors Gagnon and Medb in
tow. Bashir wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or not. After all,
the doctors were the ones who had alerted JAG; they could have let the
whole thing blow over. And Kundera represented one more advocate in
the room. It didn't sit well with Bashir.

The doctors and Kundera took seats as well, Kundera pulling out a PADD
to record the conversation. The hair on the back of Bashir's neck
stood up. He hadn't been informed this would be on the record. But how
could it not be? He resisted the urge to slouch and the urge to bolt.

"All right," Sommers said, lacing her fingers together and resting her
hands on her desk. "This is not a formal hearing, but," she said,
turning her grey-eyed gaze to Richard and Amsha, "I suggest you tell
me what happened and I suggest that you stick with the truth."

---

Julian Bashir was stunned. Protective custody. Not a cell, no, but
close enough as made no difference. A tiny apartment in the JAG
complex, surrounded by forcefields so that he could not escape. He was
better off than his parents, who were down in the cells, awaiting
formal trial. What was he awaiting? Sommers hadn't said. He didn't
think she knew.

"I want to go home," he said flatly to Imrek, the Cardassian who had
been with him all day.

"You're staying here," Imrek replied, just as flatly.

"I haven't done anything wrong," Bashir insisted. "You have no reason
to hold me."

"Oh no?" the other man asked, raising a reptilian eyebrow. "You want
to be out of our protection if anyone finds out about this? There are
fanatics out there."

"There are fanatics in here," Bashir retorted. The Cardassian sighed,
gesturing to the tiny suite, but at least, Bashir noted, he did so
with his hand, not his rifle.

"No," Bashir said firmly, rebellion flaring inside of him.

"It will look better if you just cooperate," Imrek sighed.

"Look better to whom?" Bashir burst out. "I'm not being charged with
anything, am I? I'm not the one going to trial!"

"Just–" Imrek started when a loud male voice interrupted him, booming
down the hallway.

"You there! Cardassian!"

Bashir and Imrek turned to see two figures striding toward them, a
male human and a female who appeared to be half Bajoran and half
Cardassian. It was one of the most common mixtures in the Federation
now, since the Alliance and the Federation had merged. Bashir
recognized the man as Doctor Nahuel Wilson, one of his medical
professors. The woman he didn't know, but she was dressed in a
silver-accented red JAG uniform and had an intent look on her
otherwise pleasant face.

"Who are you?" Imrek demanded.

"Lieutenant Commander Jaisaa Evik," the woman replied, flourishing a
PADD and handing it to the bewildered security officer. "Counsel for
Julian Bashir."

Bashir raised his eyebrows in surprise as Imrek took the PADD, reading
it carefully.

"I retained her," Wilson said, nodding at Bashir.

"Do I need counsel?" Bashir asked, nervous about this new development.

"If Starfleet is insisting on keeping you here, than you do," Jaisaa
replied promptly, giving him a nod. She had unusual colouring, even
for a half-Cardassian. Her hair was a pale shade of brown, with hints
of red, which made her green-grey skin seem warmer. "Speaking of that,
if Mister Bashir isn't being charged with anything, then you have no
legal right to keep him here."

"He's here under protective custody," Imrek insisted.

"What's going on here?" a new voice demanded, and they all turned to
see Admiral Sommers striding toward them, her jaw set.

"I am Julian Bashir's attorney," repeated Jaisaa. "What's your reason
for placing him under protective custody?"

"To ensure he isn't harmed if anyone finds out about his enhancements,
of course," Sommers snapped.

"Has anyone issued any threats? Julian?"

Bashir shook his head quickly.

"How many people know about this, Admiral?" Jaisaa asked.

"The doctors who discovered it, the Bashir family, two security
officers and myself. And apparently you and Doctor– Who are you?"

"Wilson," the doctor replied.

"How did you find out about this?" Sommers demanded.

"Doctor Gagnon is an old friend of mine. Julian was a student of mine
last year. One of my best and most promising, I might add."

"He was one of your best because he's enhanced," Sommers replied
sharply.

"I didn't mean best just based on intelligence," Wilson replied dryly.

"Admiral, I see no reason for you to detain Mister Bashir. He
submitted voluntarily to questioning, and it's obvious from a review
of the evidence that he had no prior knowledge of his enhancement. He
has no previous infractions and he isn't a flight risk. There appears
to be no risk to his safety, either. You can't keep him here."

"If I deem it necessary–"

"But //not// if another judge doesn't," Jaisaa interrupted, pulling
another PADD out of her small stack and handing it over. "I have a
release order for Mister Bashir. He's confined to the city, but not to
this building."

Sommers took the PADD, reading it over and frowning.

"This is–" she began.

"Completely legal," Jaisaa interrupted her. "You may assign security
to my client if you feel that it is warranted, but you cannot force
him to allow security into his home or to accompany him to his
classes."

Sommers glowered, thrusting the PADD back at the attorney.

"You will be required to come in for more questioning," she informed
Bashir, who nodded quickly.

"Of course, sir," he agreed, not wanting to jeopardize this chance to
leave and go home. He was exhausted, worn to the bone, and the
prospect of being safe in his own apartment and sleeping in his own
bed was impossible to pass up.

"Fine," Sommers sighed. "Take him. Imrek, go with him. I'll send
someone to relieve you within the hour."

The Cardassian guard nodded and Sommers glowered, her eyes dark.
Jaisaa looked triumphant, as did Wilson. Bashir could only feel a
deep, sucking relief that threatened to overwhelm him. He allowed
himself to be led away by the woman who was now his lawyer, still
stunned by the speed of these more recent developments.

When they had reached the lobby of the JAG building, Wilson motioned
the other two away, and took Bashir aside gently, his eyes searching
the younger man's face.

"Are you all right, Julian?" he said, keeping his voice low. The only
other person in the lobby aside from their small party was a security
officer manning the front desk.

"Yes, sir," Bashir replied automatically. Wilson snorted.

"Don't give me that," he replied, his brown eyes flashing. He pursed
his lips, then shook his head. "Did they say what they intended to
do?"

"A trial for my parents," Bashir said, feeling a flash of anger at the
mention of Richard and Amsha. Wilson nodded; he did not look
surprised.

"What about you?" the doctor pressed.

"Nothing so far," Bashir replied, but he knew that wouldn't last.
Genetically enhanced individuals were illegal in the Federation. They
would kick him out of Starfleet, force him into exile, take away all
of his dreams and goals. . .

Something must have shown on his face because Wilson gripped his arms.

"Listen to me, I'm not the only one on your side. I've been talking to
some of your other professors – a fact that Admiral Whoever-she-was
doesn't need to know. Everyone was impressed by your performance. Your
anatomy professor from your first year at the academy remembers you.
She's a friend of a friend, Julian. She said that she had never seen
someone with such a natural aptitude for medicine."

"Except it's not natural, sir," Bashir replied.

"Don't start with that!" Wilson snapped. "You can't let them take over
the way you think!"

"But–" Bashir began, wanting to insist that it was true, that his
proclivity for medicine was engineered, not inherent. But a commotion
at the door interrupted them, and Bashir and Wilson turned to see
Shannon Tanner striding in. The security guard behind the desk rose as
she bypassed him and headed straight for Bashir.

"Wait a minute!" the man insisted. Tanner rounded on him.

"Shut up!" she snapped, taking Bashir aback. He'd never heard her use
that tone of voice on anyone, especially not a superior officer. She
spun away and met up with Bashir, giving him a heartfelt hug.

"Are you all right?" she hissed, glaring at Wilson suspiciously. The
doctor looked somewhat bewildered, faced suddenly with a young science
ensign who apparently had no regard for authority at the moment.

"For now," Bashir said.

"Good. What the hell's going on? All I could find out is that you were
in protective custody!"

"Not anymore," Bashir sighed. "I'm going home."

"Good," Tanner said, crossing her arms, a defiant look on her face.
Bashir was impressed despite himself; he had never questioned the
depth of her friendship, but now he was truly seeing how far it went.
She had a look about her that told him that she would have walked
through walls to get to him.

"I'm coming with you," she added, shooting another look at Wilson,
still stubborn, but trying to work out who he was.

"Ensign, I don't think all the ships in the fleet would be enough to
stop you," the doctor said dryly. "Besides, I'm on Julian's side, as
you appear to be. Security is over there," he said, nodding at Imrek,
who looked displeased. The Cardassian rolled his eyes, shaking his
head. "I'm sure he's not going to stop you either."

Tanner glanced at the Cardassian, smirked at him, and nodded, then
took Bashir's elbow.

"Let's get out of here," she said.

---



Despite how tired he'd been, Bashir did not get a lot of sleep that
night. He and Tanner stayed up until almost two in the morning,
talking – well, she had talked, he had raged and yelled and cursed his
parents and their decision. Eventually, when the exhaustion of doing
that had taken his toll, he'd begun simply talking as well, both of
them trying to make sense of what had been done to him.

It was difficult for her, he could tell. It was always harder, Bashir
thought, to watch someone else suffer than to suffer one's self. It
was an important lesson to learn for a physician, and one which would
probably take a life time to fully understand. But he was terrified
for his future, which he could no longer see unfolding neatly before
him. Now, it was a black hole, sucking all the light in his life into
an inescapable prison.

At eight in the morning, the security guard assigned to Bashir – a new
one, a Bolian – woke him up, saying that he was to report to the JAG
headquarters. Bashir had dressed and eaten quickly, leaving Tanner
sleeping on the couch. He'd scrawled a hasty note to her on a PADD and
left. It wouldn't matter much if she missed one day of classes, and
Bashir knew she had no intention of going anyway. Besides, if her
emotional state was anything like his, concentrating on class material
would be next to impossible.

Lieutenant Commander Jaisaa was waiting for him at the JAG
headquarters and managed to get his security guard to leave him alone
for awhile in order to speak to him privately. It turned out he'd been
summoned for a psychiatric evaluation. Some part of Bashir wasn't in
the least bit surprised. After all, Singh had been megalomaniac and
genetically enhanced. And not giving Bashir any warning prior to the
assessment wouldn't allow him much time to form a proper mental
defense. Not that it would matter; the psychiatrist was Betazoid. That
didn't surprise Bashir much, either.

He spent almost two and a half hours being analyzed by a red-haired,
green-eyed Betazoid woman, knowing full well the whole time that she
was reading his mind and hating it. There was something so invasive
about being forced to submit to telepathic screening. There was
nothing he could hide from her, not his anger at his parents, not his
fear, not even a brief thought wondering if Tanner was awake yet. That
sent the doctor down a whole new path, probing his relationship with
his friend, which made Bashir even angrier. She had finally desisted
after he'd protested very forcefully against having his friends
dragged into this mess. After all, none of them were responsible for
what had been done to him.

When they were done, Bashir had no idea what the woman thought of him,
what her judgment would be. That was another problem with telepaths;
they got to see what you were thinking, but you were in the dark about
them. It unnerved him to no end that she would probably have a say in
his future and he had no idea what she thought.

Commander Jaisaa was waiting in her office with Doctor Wilson and two
other doctors whom Bashir recognized: Marija Mahjan, his first year
anatomy instructor, and Arikel Krual, a Cardassian doctor who had
taught Bashir two courses the previous year.

"What's going on?" Bashir demanded, feeling the now-familiar fear
tightening again in his chest. Jaisaa gestured him into a chair, and
he took it reluctantly.

She handed him a PADD; she seemed to have a never-ending supply of
them.

"Starfleet wants to review your position at the Academy," she said
bluntly. "Since genetically enhanced individuals are not supposed to
serve in Starfleet, they want to see if its reasonable to keep you
here."

"I'm already here!" Bashir protested. "And I haven't tried to seize
power or overthrow Starfleet Command! I wouldn't know where to start!"

"I know, " Jaisaa replied. "But because they insist on reviewing your
position, I've imposed on Doctor Wilson to start gathering colleagues
of his who can give you good character references, Julian. Starfleet
is nervous about another Khan Singh – and rightly so – but from what
I've heard so far from the doctors here, we don't have to worry about
that with you. And we'll prove that to Starfleet. We're supposed to be
beyond painting everyone with the same brush. No more racism, no more
sexism, no more prejudice. If Starfleet really wants to upholds those
ideas, they have to do it here as well."

"But three doctors against the whole of Starfleet Command?"

"Three so far," Wilson agreed. "But Marija called Doctor Wuthers, who
taught your introductory pharmacology course last year, and she's on
her way back from Jupiter Station, where she's on sabbatical this
year. And we got ahold of Commander Thorington-Smythe, who taught the
engineering annex course you took in your last year as a general
cadet, and he remembers you being one of the most thorough and
thoughtful students he had that year. He's willing to come in and
speak for you as well. And there are others, once we get ahold of
them. You've made an impression, Julian, and a good one."

"And there's your friend Ensign Tanner, too," Jaisaa said with a hint
of a smile.

"You talked to her?" Bashir demanded.

"She came to talk to me. She's a very forthright young woman, I must
say. And you're lucky to have a friend like her."

Bashir nodded, somewhat stunned. He had not expected this sudden
rallying around him, especially from people who would be putting their
professional careers on the line for the sake of one medical student.

"And once we start getting ahold of your other classmates, we'll have
more of your peers willing to stand up for you," Krual said, nodding
to Bashir. "I remember you giving some of the students a lot of help,
Julian. You did so without complaint, and without asking for anything
in return. How often do you think Khan Singh did that? I'm willing to
bet not often."

Bashir nodded again. The Cardassian woman had a familiar set to her
jaw, one he'd seen in Jaisaa since he had met her the night before,
and one he'd seen in Imrek, the security officer. It was the
Cardassian stubbornness, the intention to do whatever was necessary to
make things turn out the way they wanted.

Bashir was suddenly very glad to have a Cardassian and a
half-Cardassian on his side. And Jaisaa was half-Bajoran, too. Bajoran
women were even more stubborn than Cardassians.

"We haven't contacted any of your classmates yet," Wilson said,
pulling Bashir back to the present. "We didn't want to disrupt
classes, because I imagine things will be in a mild uproar once your
friends find out about this."

Bashir recalled Tanner's reaction, and how she'd told a superior
office to shut up, and thought Wilson was right.

"When is this review supposed to start?" he asked.

"Tuesday," Jaisaa replied. "It doesn't give us much time, but it gives
them even less."

"What do you mean?" Bashir asked.

"Well, it wasn't difficult for me to start finding people who wanted
to speak out on your behalf. But there aren't very many people
familiar with the specifics of Khan Singh's psychological profile
anymore, and even fewer people who have a specialized knowledge of the
psychology of genetically enhanced individuals in general. And since a
lot of doctors who know you seem willing to support you, mostly what
JAG will have against you is someone else's history and people who
don't know you. Incidentally, I've arranged for you to be evaluated by
a psychiatrist recommended by Doctors Wilson and Mahjan, also a
Betazoid, so that we have our own evaluation to present."

Bashir groaned aloud, and Jaisaa held up her hands.

"I know, I know. It won't be until tomorrow. One is enough for today."

"One is more than enough period," Bashir said, but without much venom.
"Are you really worried that woman who evaluated me today won't be
impartial?"

"No, not really," Jaisaa said. "But I'm covering all of my bases. And
in these kinds of cases, having more than one opinion is a good
option. I don't want any biased psychoanalysis for you."

Bashir rubbed his face wearily. He didn't want any psychoanalysis
period. He didn't know why they couldn't just leave him alone. He
wasn't a Khan Singh. He wanted to //help// people, not control them,
or force them into being somehow better by being genetically enhanced.
He wished someone hadn't made that choice for him.

"All right," he agreed reluctantly, knowing he had no choice.
Starfleet put up hoops and if he wanted to keep his position, he'd
have to jump through them.

But he wasn't alone, and that was good at least.

"What about my parents' trial?" he asked.

"You'll need to testify," Jaisaa replied, "But it shouldn't be too
difficult Believe me, no minor child can be held responsible for his
parents' actions."

Bashir nodded. He hoped she was right.

"Will I have to see them, though?" he asked.

Jaisaa raised her dark Cardassian eyebrows.

"They'll have to be there," she replied.

"I don't ever want to speak to them again," Bashir said.

"Julian–" Wilson started, but Bashir cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"No, don't lecture me!" he snapped. "If they'd abused me or abandoned
me, no one would question my choice not to talk to them! What they did
to me //is// illegal! And I'll have to live with the consequences for
the rest of my life! I //am// the consequences of what they did!"

Wilson frowned, but didn't protest any further.

"You'll have to talk to the JAG lawyer and to theirs," Jaisaa said.
"In the courtroom, your parents won't be allowed to talk to you."

"Unless they decide to defend themselves."

Jaisaa shook her head.

"The Federation assigned counsel to them," she said. "So don't worry."

Bashir let out a deep breath and nodded.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now you need to go have some lunch," Jaisaa replied. "We'll meet
later this afternoon, but I don't like pestering my clients when
they've just been through evaluation. I suggest you call your friend
Shannon Tanner. She's probably waiting to hear from you."

Bashir nodded. Knowing Tanner, that was likely true.

"I'm allowed to leave?" he asked.

"You can go anywhere in the city," Jaisaa reminded him. "I can't stop
security from accompanying you if you go out, though. They haven't
been trying to get into your apartment, have they?"

"No," Bashir replied.

"Good," Jaisaa sighed. "That's something at least. I'll call you when
I need you to come back."

Bashir nodded and stood, giving his old professors another nod before
escaping gratefully. There was a human security guard waiting for him
outside, and Bashir brushed past her quickly without speaking. They
could assign guards for his protection if they wanted, but let them
keep up to him. He found the nearest transport station and took the
shuttle home, where he could call Tanner in private.

---

That night provided very little rest, either. Tanner had come over to
his apartment as soon as he'd called her, and Bashir had filled her in
on what had happened. She'd looked even more exhausted upon hearing
his news, and he wondered if she'd slept much that day.

Less than an hour after Tanner's arrival, Bashir's apartment was
invaded by medical students, most of them his cohorts, but a few from
the year ahead of him. They had been alerted by Doctors Wilson and
Krual, and, as Wilson has predicted, they were in an uproar. Bashir
was greeted with curses at Starfleet, curses at the Federation, and
general disdain as only potential doctors could muster. The outpouring
of support so stunned him that he hadn't even minded that his
apartment was overrun. People took over and made dinner and snacks and
desserts, some went and bought drinks, and a small core group,
including el Naser, sat around Bashir and plotted how to keep the
young man in the medical program. Food and drink were passed around,
and the planning became more farfetched and more intense.

At one in the morning, Tanner kicked everyone out, earning Bashir some
knowing looks for a few of the male students. He didn't even bothered
trying to correct them; they weren't about to listen. Exhausted,
Bashir slumped on the couch, watching the last of the people be
harried out the door by Tanner. When she came back in, he groaned and
pushed himself to his feet, only to be pushed back down by a firm hand
on his shoulder.

"I'll clean up," Tanner said. "You get some sleep."

"It's my place," Bashir protested. "And you're as tired as I am."

She leaned down so that she eye level with him and crossed her arms,
raising one eyebrow.

"Let's just pretend we've had the argument and I've won, shall we? You
need to sleep."

"All right, but at least let me go to bed," Bashir said. She nodded,
then shooed him out of the room. Bashir stumbled into his bedroom, his
head hazy from wine and exhaustion, and collapsed into his bed without
even changing his clothes.

---

Shannon Tanner awoke the next morning, her mouth feeling like it had
been stuffed with cotton. She made a face and swallowed, then groaned
as she sat up on the couch, which had been her bed the night before.
Her muscles protested as she shifted and Tanner grimaced, looking
about. The presence of a PADD on the end table told her Bashir was
gone off to JAG again; reading it confirmed her suspicions.

"Computer, time," she muttered, rubbing her head.

"Time is eleven hundred thirty-seven hours."

"Shit!" Tanner swore, swinging her legs over the side of the couch and
pushing herself to her feet. "Computer, locate anyone else in this
suite."

"There are no other occupants," the computer replied.

Tanner nodded, striding toward the bathroom, pulling off her clothes
as she went. She stuffed them into the sonic washer, grabbed a towel
from Bashir's linen closet and jumped into the shower. Her clothes
were clean and dry by the time she finished braiding her hair. She
scrambled back into them and ran out the door. Tanner hurried to the
nearest transport station and caught the shuttle to the other side of
town, arriving at the coffee shop where she was supposed to meet
Idaris only five minutes later. Breathing hard, she sat down across
from the other woman, who looked alarm. Idaris had a couple of PADDs
with her, containing the data from their project. Tanner had wisely
brought her PADD to Bashir's the night before in case she spent the
night there again, and was grateful now for her foresight.

"Sorry," Tanner said, taking a deep breath.

"It's all right," Idaris assured her. "But are you? You look awful."

Tanner gave her a wry smile. She could only imagine what she looked
like.

"I'm okay," she replied and gave her order to the waiter who came
around. As he left, she shook her head, raking her fingers through her
hair, loosening the braid somewhat. "I'm sorry. It's a friend of mine.
He's going through a really difficult time right now. I've been
spending time with him."

Idaris frowned, her blue eyes concerned.

"Will he be all right?" she inquired.

"I– Well, I hope so," Tanner said. She thought a moment, then shook
her head. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"That's always the hardest," Idaris said sympathetically.

Tanner nodded.

"Can I ask you something?" she inquired suddenly, almost before she'd
thought of speaking.

Idaris nodded.

"Are you a joined Trill?"

Idaris looked surprised at the sudden change in topic, but shook her
head.

"No, I'm a candidate for joining," she replied. "But I haven't applied
for any of the symbionts that have come up so far, because I don't
think they'd be compatible with me."

"But– when you are joined, how does that work? I mean, do you stay the
age you are now, or the age you are when you're joined? Or do you take
on the symbiont's age?"

"A bit of both," Idaris replied. "My body would be whatever age I am
when I'm joined, but my mind would be a balance between that age and
the age of the host."

"That must be a difficult transition," Tanner said.

"That's why we train for it," Idaris replied. "Why did you want to
know?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Tanner replied honestly. "I've always sort of
wondered, but you're the first Trill I've ever really known."

Idaris smiled.

"Well, when I am joined, I'll let you know how it works out."

Despite herself, Tanner chuckled.

"Sounds good," she replied. Her drink and salad came and she put her
PADD on the table.

---

"Well, shall we get this done?" Julian Bashir was surprised at how
much easier the second psychological evaluation went. The
psychologist, Inhast Fenesen, was easier to be around, despite the
fact that Bashir knew she was reading his mind. He was even able to
better answer her when she began asking about his friends, knowing now
that he had their support. He had also had time to consider that they
would be called as character witnesses and that meant he needed to
show that he felt respect and affection for them.

It still took slightly over two hours, and he was tired when he left,
but was grateful that Tanner had ordered him to get some sleep. When
he was finished, Dr. Krual met him, a glimmer in her dark Cardassian
eyes.

"Come with me," she ordered. Bashir wanted to refuse but the glint of
mischievousness in her eyes made him reconsider. He did as requested,
joined of course by his security guard, currently a middle aged man
who seemed mildly bored by this assignment. Bashir supposed that it
would be extremely dull guarding a young man who didn't show the
slightest inclination to make any trouble or to dodge his chaperon.

Krual took him to the Starfleet medical buildings in which Bashir had
spent most of his recent life. Puzzled, the young student followed her
up through a side door instead of the main entrance of the building
which housed most of his classrooms. He climbed the stairs to the
third floor behind her and followed until they reached the center of
the buildings, where all of the various corridors met. Here, it was
possible to look down into the lobby on the first floor through a
large, oval shaped opening bordered by carved wooden railings that
lined the circumference. The second floor had been designed on the
same plan, as had the fourth. In the middle of the oval on the first
floor was a small pool with dancing fountains surrounded by flowering
plants which got their sunlight from the high, domed window on the
fourth floor.

Set up in front of the fountain, in the lobby through which most
people passed when entering the building, was a table lined with PADDs
and manned by three medical students. Bashir recognized el Naser
immediate, and then an Andorian in his year named Trei'Las Shem and
another human, a woman named Kefilwe Simbar. El Naser was talking to
another med student, showing him something on a PADD, and the other
two seemed to be going over something.

"What are they doing?" he asked, turning to Krual.

"Collecting signatures on a petition to keep Julian Bashir in
Starfleet," Krual replied calmly, the corner of her lips turning up
slightly.

Bashir looked back down quickly, then to her again.

"What?" he asked.

Krual shrugged.

"It was their idea," she said. "The booth was up this morning when I
arrived, and last time I checked, they had just over a hundred
signatures. From what I see, Starfleet doesn't stand a chance throwing
you out."

Bashir shook his head, looking down again.

"But it doesn't change the fact that genetic enhancement is illegal,"
he pointed out. "They can't change that law. And you know everyone the
Starfleet lawyers will throw Khan Singh out there, to scare everyone.
He's why people like me are illegal."

Krual nodded calmly.

"That's right," she replied. "But I've been doing some research about
Singh. He was a very ambitious man, Julian. Extremely intelligent, of
course, charismatic, inspiring, all of those things. But there's a big
difference between you and Singh. He was fixated on power, on
dominating Terra, and he played to people's fears, convinced them of
his point of view by promising them power, and by promising them
security against whatever they were afraid of. He used them for his
own ends. But you. . . " she nodded toward the students in the lobby
below.

"I didn't put that in their heads!" Bashir protested.

"That's exactly my point," Krual said. "You didn't ask them for this.
You aren't trying to play them in order to further your own agenda.
Those people are doing something for you because they think you're
worth it, not because they think that they can get something out of
it. Not because you've made them promises of power and security, but
because you're their friend. Your peers want you to be a doctor,
Julian. That's a good sign."

Bashir looked back down. Now Simbar was talking to someone and Shem
was approaching a doctor, PADD in hand, an intent look on his face.
Bashir wished he shared Krual's conviction that Starfleet would see
the difference between him and Singh. It wasn't her fate on the line.
Still, it gave him some hope to see the effort his friends were going
to. As he watched, another student arrived and, after a minute, el
Naser left, heading out the main doors.

"They have a whole rota set up," Krual said, putting a hand on his
shoulder. "Come on, let's not spoil their surprise. Have you eaten
anything today?"

Surprised at the question, and suddenly realizing how hungry he was,
Bashir shook his head.

"I thought not. Let's go, I'm taking you to lunch." She guided him
away from the railing and glanced over at the security guard, who gave
her a slightly dour look. "You coming, Sunny Jim, or do you trust
Mister Bashir not to flee when given the slightest opportunity?"

The officer didn't reply, but glowered at her and fell into step
behind them.

---

Tuesday came far too quickly for Bashir's liking. He felt as if he'd
hardly had any time to process what was happening, and with all of his
meeting with Jaisaa, the psychiatrists, and his friends, he wasn't far
from the truth. On Sunday, between his meeting with his advocate, he'd
been mobbed by his fellow students, who had collected almost hundred
signatures in his support in less than a day and were still going
strong. Tanner stayed with him most of the time, her presence like a
lifeline, the only real, constant from his previous life that had
remained through this insanity.

On Monday morning, her parents, Iwan and Malissande, and her sister,
Megan, had descended on San Francisco from the UK. Iwan was a civilian
engineer and Malissande a mathematician at Cambridge. Megan was in the
music program at Edinburgh, but had taken time from her classes. A few
hours after their arrival, Kevin Tanner arrived from Jupiter Station,
where he was on an internship as a Starfleet medical engineering
student. And Bashir, who had been without family since finding out
what his parents had done to him, was suddenly enveloped into another
family. He had been worried that they would reject him and his
intelligence on the basis that it wasn't natural, but while Kevin
railed against the injustice of doing something like this to a child
who had no choice, Iwan and Malissande dismissed Bashir's concerns.
With all the confidence of a nineteen year old, Megan announced that
Starfleet could go hang for putting him through a hearing and stated
that she didn't care about Bashir's past. Shannon Tanner took all of
this in stride, looking mildly amused, and Bashir wondered what it had
been like to grow up the oldest child in such an exuberant family.

Tuesday morning saw him arrive at JAG headquarters, where Jaisaa met
him, looking far more professional than he'd ever seen her. Her long
brown hair was swept back and up, showing off her long Cardassian neck
and neck ridges. She took him into the hearing room, which was already
crowded with people Bashir knew: doctors, other students, friends.
Some of them called greetings to him, heartening the young man
somewhat. The hearing room was small, and the standard Starfleet
blue-grey was everywhere. The carpets, walls, and ceilings were the
same bland colour, with gentle, recessed lighting. Bashir took a chair
at the defendant's table with Jaisaa – at least Starfleet had seen it
fit to provide them comfortable chairs. They, too, and the table, were
the same dull blue. It angered him slightly that everything was
intended to be so calming, when the hearing was obviously going to be
anything but.

A Bolian commander, representing Starfleet, was at the next table,
PADDs spread out in front of him. Bashir hadn't met him yet, but knew
his name was Bethiru Fuir. Bashir glanced at the audience behind him
and spotted Admiral Sommers, which surprised him. She was an advocate,
not a judge, so she wouldn't be responsible for deciding his fate, and
Bashir suspected that she wasn't representing Starfleet because she'd
been present at the initial meeting with his parents. He saw the
Tanners come in, and Shannon gave him a supportive smile, and Megan
gave him a thumbs up. He smiled back, genuinely; the small gesture had
heartened him a bit more.

Bashir rose with the others when the three judges came in. They were
two humans, Admirals Michael Vance and Sukhon Pakpao, and a Vulcan
woman, Admiral P'lor. They took their places and Bashir wondered if it
was beneficial to have a Vulcan as a judge. On the one hand, perhaps
she wouldn't be swayed emotionally by Khan Singh's legacy, on the
other hand, she might not feel any pity for a young man who had been
the victims of a choice his parents had made when he'd been a small
child. The humans were just as difficult to read; years of judging
cases had given them unreadable poker faces.

After everyone had settled back into their seats, Admiral Pakpao, a
short, middle aged Thai woman, explained to the audience that they
were required to keep quiet or they would be evicted, then outlined
why the hearing was being held. She stressed that this was not a
criminal trial, because a minor child could not be held responsible
for the actions of his parents, but rather, this was a hearing to
determine if Julian Bashir could remain in Starfleet. He heard
discontented muttering from the audience behind him on that point, but
a raised eyebrow from Admiral P'lor quieted everyone down again.

Fuir gave his opening arguments first, and it was no surprise to
Bashir that he brought up Khan Singh. Bashir remembered that Jaisaa
had wanted Doctor Leonard McCoy to examine him and testify at the
hearing, because the older man had actually known Singh, but the
doctor was on Cardassia and could not have returned to Earth in time.
Bashir wondered if it was better that way; maybe someone who'd known
Singh would be less inclined to give Bashir the benefit of the doubt.

After Jaisaa had presented her opening arguments, Bashir took the
stand to testify. Jaisaa had helped him prepare for this, and he
withstood the questions well enough, remembering to keep calm. It was
important, she had stressed to him, that he keep his composure,
because it would help the judges see that he was not emotionally
volatile. It was difficult at times, particularly when Fuir was
questioning him regarding his memories of the enhancement. Those were
still somewhat vague. Although Bashir's memory had been designed to be
phenomenal, long-term memory required reinforcement, which had
obviously not been provided to him regarding this incident. Fuir
latched onto this, insisting that Bashir's memory was good enough to
remember all of the events clearly, but Bashir managed to stay calm
and explain as best he could that this was not the case.

When he was finished, he felt as if he were a deflated balloon. Most
of him wanted to slump over in the witness chair and sleep, but he
made himself rise and return to his seat without showing any sign of
fatigue. Jaisaa's face showed approval when he regained his place
beside her. Bashir had no idea how to feel, other than exhausted. He
couldn't tell by the expressions on the judges faces what they had
thought.

The psychiatrists testified next, Doctor Fenensen first, and then
Doctor Teyrn, the psychiatrist who'd been assigned by Starfleet to
evaluate him. Bashir was surprised to hear how similar the assessments
of both women were. They had found him remarkably cooperative and
composed for someone who was enduring what he was enduring,
particularly for a young man without prior knowledge of the event.
They both stressed that point, that Bashir had not known about his
genetic enhancement. He supposed there was some good in having the
evaluations performed by Betazoids after all. Fenesen's assessment of
his relationship with his friends and fellow students was a bit more
generous, given that he'd been working not to be hostile when
discussing that with her. Teyrn, however, did note that she thought
any reluctance on Bashir's part to discuss his personal relationships
was in order to protect his friends rather than to hide anything.
Bashir was glad she'd thought so, given how angry he'd been when she'd
asked him about Tanner. But she was right; he was afraid to see them
dragged into this, even though they'd all entered very willingly. Both
women denied Fuir's implications that Bashir was like Singh, neither
of them finding any sociopathic or psychopathic tendencies in the
young man. Bashir felt an utter wave of relief at that; he had never
considered himself to be sociopathic or psychopathic, but now he felt
like the specter of Khan Singh hovered about him, ready to pull Bashir
right into his insanity. Bashir wondered if the potential was there,
if everyone was right and all genetically enhanced people had the
capability to be like Singh. He hoped not.

When the doctors were finished testifying, Pakpao called for a recess
for lunch. Bashir had never been so relieved in his life. Jaisaa took
him out of a side door, so that he would not be mobbed, and had one of
her aids order lunch from the replimat for them. She took Bashir into
an outdoor courtyard in which only JAG personnel were allowed; it
would keep him from being harassed. Bashir was grateful to be outside
and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and letting the cool breeze touch
his face. It felt amazing, and he suddenly felt more alive than he had
in the past several days.

The thought startled him. Had it really been less than week since his
life had been turned upside down? Somehow, that didn't seem fair. It
should have been so much longer, he thought, to let this insanity play
out.

He and Jaisaa ate in silence. Bashir was privately impressed with
ability to be still and quiet when the situation warranted. Bajoran
women weren't known for their patience, and Cardassian women weren't
known for being subdued, yet Jaisaa, descended from both races, had a
remarkable calm about her. Maybe it came from being an advocate he
thought. She must really have learned to bite her tongue in the
courtroom.

After lunch, Fuir had a geneticists testify on the effect of genetic
enhancement, and then two of Bashir's professors were put on the
witness stand. Bashir was grateful for their unerring support; they
painted a good picture of him, but were not shy about admitting his
flaws. Bashir felt that would only help his case; if it could be
proven that he still acted human, despite all the enhancements, then
maybe the judges would see that he wasn't a risk. When the doctors
were finished, Tanner and two of the medical students, el Naser and
Shem, were called as character witnesses, and the two medical students
described the petition they'd set up. Bashir sneaked a glance back at
the audience and caught Admiral Sommers' eye. To his surprise, she was
holding down a smile and arched an eyebrow at him when she saw him
looking. Bashir suddenly wondered if she'd really been against him, or
if she'd been just trying to do her job and ensure that he was safe
and didn't run. He turned away again, wishing he knew.

Finally, sometime after six, Pakpao announced that they were finished.
She informed Bashir and the advocates that they would have the
decision on Thursday morning and then adjourned the hearing. Bashir's
heart sank a little; he hadn't wanted to wait that long. He was hoping
that they would give their decision the following day, but he saw no
use in protesting the point Jaisaa and Fuir were nodding; perhaps this
was standard practice.

Jaisaa made him wait until the audience had filed out, not that it
mattered. They were waiting for him when he left the hearing room and
mobbed him, offering support and opinions on how the hearing had gone.
Jaisaa tried to get them to calm down, and finally Iwan Tanner pushed
his way in, announced that Bashir was going home, and told the crowd,
which consisted mostly of medical students, that they could see him in
the next few days. Slowly, they dispersed, but el Naser ignored Iwan
and made his way to Bashir. He grinned brightly, dark eyes twinkling.

"Looks good from where I'm standing, Jules," he said, clapping Bashir
on the shoulder. "I'll come see you tomorrow, right?"

"I'd like that," Bashir replied honestly. He felt as if he'd had no
time to really spend with his friends over the past few days, except
for Tanner, but none of that time had been relaxing. He wanted to
thank el Naser for the petition too. Bashir was certain it had been
his friend's idea, at least in large part.

Finally he was left alone with Jaisaa and the Tanners. The JAG
advocate told him she'd meet with him the next day and left them.
Bashir was herded home, somewhat against his will, because he was not
in the mood to entertain anyone, nor to be entertained. He was
exhausted and needed some sleep, although he wasn't certain he'd be
able to do rest at all. Thankfully, the family stayed only for dinner
and then headed back to the hotel in which they were staying, all
except Shannon. By unspoken agreement, she stayed behind, and helped
herself to some blankets and pillows from Bashir's linen closet,
setting up a bed on the couch once again. Bashir wanted to ask her how
long it had been since she'd slept in her own bed, but he knew the
question would only upset her. She'd think he'd been keeping track of
what she was doing for him and trying to make her comfortable, and
Bashir knew she wasn't concerned with herself. He wished she would be,
at least a little, so that this didn't burn her out.

But he kept that to himself and accepted her presence.

"Get some rest, Jules," she said, looking up from placing a pillow on
the couch.

"You, too," he said, making sure she knew he meant it.

"I will," she promised.

"Thanks, Shan," he said. On impulse, she hugged him and Bashir hugged
back.

"Good night," she said pointedly and Bashir gave her a wry, lopsided
smile.

"'Night," he replied, heading into his bedroom and letting the door
hiss shut behind him. He changed into more comfortable clothing, a
light t-shirt and pants, and then sat down on his bed, staring out the
balcony windows at the San Francis skyline. He stayed that way for a
few minutes, trying to think of nothing, trying not to wonder where
his life was going now. Then, with a sigh, he crawled under his covers
and closed his eyes, hoping for sleep.

---

Bashir spent the following day in a daze. Nothing seemed real, but, at
the same time, his already heightened senses seemed even more acute.
He felt as if he were noticing everything, and darkly wondered if his
mind was cataloguing each last moment as a dying man's mind might,
hanging onto every last detail so that he would not forget. He didn't
think he'd ever noticed that Tanner's hair was exactly the same shade
as milk chocolate. He found himself staring at the artwork in his
apartment, noting all the small lines, subtle changes in shade, and
flowing forms, as if seeing them for the very first time. When el
Naser came to visit, Tanner left to go see her family. Bashir spent a
couple hours with his friend, noting for the first time how el Naser's
eyes always seemed to be smiling, no matter what. He admired the
basic, unbreakable optimism in his friend and really wished he shared
it. Each hour that crept passed brought more dread, which he tried to
keep down. It was tiring, and he knew he'd lost the battle to keep it
secret that evening after he'd had another dinner with Tanner's family
and they had left. Tanner gave him a shrewd look, crossing her arms.

"If they try and kick you out, we'll fight it," she promised him.

"Shan, that could ruin your career," Bashir protested.

She unfolded her arms, looking shocked, then gave a short, sharp
laugh.

"Oh yes, I'd really want to stay in Starfleet if they made you leave!"
she'd retorted. "I don't want to be part of an organization that
punishes its people for mistakes they didn't make!"

Bashir stared up at her. He was seated on his couch and she was
standing in front of a chair. Outside, the sun was sinking, casting
long shadows across the floor.

"What would you do?" he asked, stunned by the idea that anyone would
feel so strongly about the verdict in his case that they'd consider
leaving Starfleet.

Tanner shrugged, then shook her head.

"I won't have to think about that," she said firmly. "Because they
aren't going to kick you out."

"We don't know that," Bashir pointed out.

Tanner rolled her eyes at him.

"Jules, are you going to be your own executioner, too? No one in that
hearing could be that stupid."

He wanted to disagree, but didn't want to fight with her, either. It
wasn't her future on the line. But she'd just said it was, too. He
didn't want her to leave Starfleet because of him; she had a bright
career ahead of her. He didn't want to drag anyone down with this the
way his parents had done to him. Instead, he left it at that, nodding.
They would know soon enough anyway.

The rest of the evening passed slowly, and neither of them got much
sleep. Bashir had gone to his room to give Tanner some privacy so she
could sleep, but around two in the morning, he went out onto the small
balcony that adjoined his bedroom. A few minutes later, silently,
Tanner joined him, wrapped in a blanket against the chill. They sat
silently for a long time, listening to the sounds of the city, then
went back inside. Bashir did manage to get a few hours rest, and
didn't ask the next morning if Tanner had. The circles under her eyes
were enough of an answer, although he supposed he had them, too.

Both of them ate in silence and left together. The security assigned
to Bashir had long given up trying to keep Tanner from accompanying
them to the JAG headquarters, which she did that morning, as well.
Jaisaa met him, also looking tired, and Tanner gave him a tight hug
before he joined his advocate. He waited with Jaisaa in her office,
sipping coffee in an attempt to substitute caffeine for sleep, until
they were called to the hearing room.

It was the same one they had used two days previous, and it was just
as packed as it had been. Friends and fellow students gave Bashir
supportive pats on the shoulder and quiet reassurances. Tanner managed
a smile at him and her mother reached out to clasp his hands briefly.

Bashir took his seat next to Jaisaa and watched Fuir come in. It was
impossible to tell what the Bolian thought of all of this. Bashir
wished he had some sign, apprehension, frustration, something that
might indicate what the other lawyer thought.

Bashir rose, along with the rest of the room, when the judges entered.
They took their seats and everyone sat again. Bashir tried not to
fidget as nervousness began to eat him up inside. Pakpao interlaced
her fingers, resting her hands on the table in front of her and leaned
forward slightly.

"Julian Bashir," she started. Bashir forced himself to meet her eyes,
his heart pounding so loud he was certain everyone could hear it. "We
have heard a lot of testimony regarding your enhancements, your
psychology, and your performance here at the Academy. We've also heard
a lot about Khan Singh. I think it's fair to say that everyone here
has heard of Singh and has an idea of what he did. It's because of him
that genetic enhancement is illegal in the Federation. Enhanced
individuals, augments, have an unfortunate psychological tendency
toward sociopathic behaviour and their increased intelligence and
strength give them an obvious advantage over everyone else.

"However, we also have to remember that even without enhancement,
there are some of us much smarter than others, much stronger, much
faster. Vulcans have three times the strength and speed as humans.
Betazoids can read minds. Cardassians are hardier in extremely arid
environments and are generally stronger than most other races in the
Federation. Does that mean we should expel them from the Federation?
Obviously not. The Federation endeavours to keep the playing field
even, but it is obvious that it isn't, even among humans. We do not
want to encourage people to surpass each other by genetic enhancement,
but we also cannot hold enhanced individuals such as yourself
responsible for the actions taken by their parents and guardians. It
is clear to us that you had no say in what was done to you. Most
augments don't.

"But, after listening to the testimony of Doctors Fenensen and Teyrn,
your own testimony, and the testimonies of your professors and your
cohorts, it is our opinion that you are not Khan Singh. Both doctors
consider that you have a well rounded psychological profile, and the
depth of caring and concern you show for your friends and fellow
students is obvious. Your professors all testify that you gave your
time willingly to help other students in their studies and that you
displayed no confrontational behaviours in class. Just as normal
humans have a wide variety of psychological profiles, it seems clear
to us that augments do as well. Based on this, we have decided that
Starfleet has no right to ask for your dismissal and order that you be
allowed to complete your studies and granted a commission befitting
your abilities upon graduation."

Bashir let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and the
hearing room erupted in cheers and laughter. Pakpao banged her gravel
against the desk, giving everyone a stern look.

"//However//," she continued, once everyone had quieted down again.
"We are putting a stipulation in your file that you are not to be
given command of your own. Command of away missions will not be
withheld. This is to satisfy any concerns anyone may have had about an
enhanced individual seizing power. It must be noted, however, that
almost no Starfleet doctors ever obtain command, by their own choice."

Bashir nodded, breaking into a smile. He didn't care if he was never
the captain of a starship. He didn't want to be. He'd never wanted to
be. Unlike Khan Singh, having control of anything greater than a
sickbay had never appealed to him. He didn't want the responsibility
of administration or of deciding to send people into dangerous
situations. He wanted to help people, to heal them and save them.

"Our verdict is final and there will be no appeals, neither on behalf
of Starfleet or cadet Bashir." Pakpao brought her gravel down one last
time and the hearing room erupted again, and there was nothing to
contain it. Bashir rose and impulsively hugged Jaisaa, who laughed and
hugged him back. A moment later, he found himself in a press of
people, all of them laughing and congratulating them. Bashir was
hugged randomly, and returned the hugs without knowing who he was
embracing most of the time. The relief overshadowed everything, making
all of the laughter and the chatter seem somewhat distant. He could
feel the darkness that had been hanging over his future fading away,
being replaced by the plans he'd had when even just a week ago.

He was certain there would still be some fallout from this, and
perhaps getting an assignment after graduating would be a bit
trickier, although Bashir was also certain that his grades and
performance would help secure him a good posting. There was also his
parents' trial, which was still waiting to be set, and he knew that
would be difficult. A tiny shiver of guilt ran through him; he hadn't
even considered what might happen to them. Then again, had they
considered what might happen to him when they decided to enhance him?
Bashir thought that they must not have; if they had, they wouldn't
have gone through with the enhancement. But at least he knew where his
life was going now, and that Starfleet was not going to expel him and
deny him the plans he'd made. There would never be a Captain Julian
Bashir, but there would be a Doctor Julian Bashir, and, just then,
nothing else mattered.

---

Malissande Tanner found Bashir stealing a few moments of peace on the
balcony in his bedroom. Nothing Bashir could have done would have
stopped the invasion of his apartment once again. This time, there was
more food, more wine, and much, much more laughter. Everyone had
packed themselves in and were routinely toasting the verdict and
toasting Bashir's future as a doctor. He had managed to slip away for
a few minutes, listening to the muted sounds of the party going on
inside, and relishing the cool, clean breeze that wafted past him. He
hadn't really had any time alone since this whole fiasco had started,
and he was, he admitted to himself, very much looking forward to
having some privacy and silence again.

But he smiled at Malissande nonetheless; she had always been a quiet
person and was not out here to chastise him for taking a moment to
himself.

"Are you all right?" she asked, resting her arms against the top of
the railing and lacing her fingers together. Her hands hung out over
thin air, and Bashir glanced down eight stories to the ground below.
He nodded.

"Absolutely," he replied. His future was secure– as secure as any
Starfleet officer's could be anyway.

Malissande nodded. She was fairer than her eldest daughter, with dark
blond hair that verged on brown, particularly in the low light, but
her eyes were the same shade of deep brown that Shannon's were.

"I don't agree with what your parents did to you, Jules, but you will
have to forgive them for it someday."

Bashir looked at her sharply.

"Why should I do that?" he asked. "After what they did?"

Malissande met his eyes, and her expression in the near darkness was
calm and understanding.

"Because it's not about them, it's about you. Forgiving them doesn't
mean that their actions were right, it means you won't let them have
any emotional power over you anymore. Not about this, anyway. Do you
really want to live the rest of your life feeling angry at them? You
were just given a wonderful gift, and you are going to be an amazing
doctor. Do you want any of that squandered by resentment?"

Reluctantly, Bashir shook his head.

"No, I don't. But I don't want them to get away with this, either. No
one asked me if I wanted to be enhanced. No one checked to see if I'd
be bothered by having an illegal procedure done to me."

"I know," Malissande replied. "And I don't think your parents will get
away with it, Julian. But you still have your whole life to live, and
you will be enhanced no matter what. Your life isn't worth less
because of that. But that's up to you."

Bashir pursed his lips, but nodded slowly. In truth, he didn't want to
be angry his whole life. He didn't want to think about his parents
constantly, or the choice they'd made. In his opinion, it was a bad
one. They hadn't even given him a chance. He'd only been six when
they'd decided he was going to be a dullard for the rest of his life.
Even if that had been the case, there were perfectly legal medical
avenues they could have taken. Children with genetic defects were
treated all the time, but his parents hadn't been satisfied with the
possibility of having a normal child. They'd wanted a legacy, someone
brilliant and talented. That, to him, spoke of a very selfish desire
not to ensure that he was healthy, but to create something –
some//one// – amazing.

"How do I do that?" he asked. "Forgive them?"

"There are ways. We'll talk about it another time, I promise. But for
now, this isn't the night to be sad or introspective. This is your
night to celebrate, Jules." She gave him a warm smile. "Come on.
Everyone's going to start missing you soon."

--- Four Months Later ---

Julian Bashir pressed the buzzer to Shannon Tanner's apartment. A
moment later, a smiling man opened the door, his grin growing even
wider when he Bashir on the step.

"Jules!" Kevin Tanner exclaimed.

"Kevin!" Bashir returned, surprised to see the younger man there. "I
thought you were still at Jupiter Station!"

Kevin laughed and the two men hugged briefly.

"Shan talked me into coming back for the party," he said. "And she's
my older sister, so I have to do what she says. Come on, she'll be
happy to see you."

Bashir followed Kevin inside. Shannon Tanner lived on the first floor
of an old and very large house that had been divided off into
apartments. The house had been built in the twenty-third century, and
had been well kept up, but it still showed inconsistencies with modern
architecture, which Bashir liked. All of the doors, windows, and
appliances were modern, but some of the decoration and the way the
place had been built were very reminiscent of the last century rather
than this one.

"I'm surprised Starfleet gave you the time off," Bashir commented to
Kevin. The younger man grinned.

"I'm //always// surprised when they give a lowly intern any time off.
If it was up to Doctor Zimmerman, I'd probably work twenty-four hours
a day and subsist only on ration bars, but he's not the one calling
the shots, thank God. He was grumpy enough when I requested a few days
for Christmas holidays."

Bashir chuckled.

"Good thing he likes you," he commented.

"You're telling me," Kevin snorted. "You should see what he does to
people he doesn't like."

"No, thank you," Bashir said flatly and Kevin laughed. Bashir grinned.
He had heard enough about Zimmerman to know that the man was brilliant
and temperamental, but was glad Kevin had someone with a move level
head in charge of his schedule. The last time the two men had seen
each other had been at Christmas, when Bashir had joined the Tanners
for the holiday. They didn't celebrate it as a religious festival, and
few people did nowadays, but it was as good an excuse as any for a
midwinter break. Bashir had been glad to join them, even if it meant
facing the damp, cold Welsh winter. He had been made an unofficial
family member sometime after his hearing, and he himself was surprised
how comfortable he was with Shannon's family and how welcoming they
were. It had been a huge source of strength during his parents' trial,
which had taken place three short weeks after his own hearing. By that
time, a lot of the shock and initial anger had worn off, replaced by
weariness at the whole thing, and apprehension as to what would happen
to his parents. He had a hard time feeling pity for them, that was
true, but at the same time, did not want them to be too harshly
punished, lumped in with murders or other violent criminals. The
ambivalence itself had been exhausting, and it had been made worse
that Bashir had been required to testify for their trial, with them
present the whole time.

In the end, they had both been sentenced to eight years in a minimum
security facility in New Zealand, the type where Starfleet often sent
officers who were being penalized. That had been immediately appealed,
of course, because the advocate representing Richard and Amsha had
felt that eight years was too harsh a sentence, but the judge had been
much less tolerant of the genetic enhancement than the judges in
Bashir's hearing had been.

In the meantime, his parents were at the center in New Zealand anyway,
and he was glad for it, because it meant he didn't have to see them.
They had sent him a request to visit once, but he had not gone,
sending back a terse reply saying he was too busy with his school
work. After that, they hadn't tried to contact him again, at least not
yet. Bashir didn't think he'd be required to do anything at the appeal
either, and within two more years, give or take a few months, he'd be
finished medical school and could put as much distance between himself
and Earth as possible.

"Shan! Jules is here!" Kevin called over the crowd of people who had
already gathered, and over the music that was playing. It was a good
thing, Bashir thought, that old homes like these had been reinforced
for sound, and the neighbours may hear faint strains of music or the
occasional laugh, but nothing else. Otherwise, they would probably
already be fraying some nerves.

"Jules!" Shannon Tanner exclaimed, making her way past a few people.
"How's it going?"

"Good," he replied giving her a brief hug. "Happy birthday. Here."

"Ooh," Tanner said, grinning as she took the package. "Thank you." She
kissed him quickly on the cheek, than handed the package to Kevin.

"Can you put this down, little bro? There's someone I want to
introduce Jules to."

Kevin grinned and winked and Bashir, bemused, was led away by the
hand.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Just a sec," Tanner replied. "Jadzia! Come here!"

A tall, pale skinned, dark haired Trill excused herself from a group
of two other people whom Bashir didn't know, and approached Tanner.
Bashir stared, then realized he was staring and blinked. He had never
seen a woman quite so beautiful. She moved gracefully, as someone very
comfortable in her body, and gave Tanner a mild inquiring look.

"Jadzia, this–" Tanner began and was interrupted by the sound of
something breaking in the kitchen. She looked alarmed and glanced
quickly at both of them. "Introduce yourselves, I'll be back!" she
promised, hurrying away. They watched her go, Jadzia looking over her
shoulder, then turning back. She extended a hand and Bashir took it.

"Jadzia Idaris," she said.

Bashir gave her his most charming smile and saw her smile in return.

"Julian Bashir," he replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

---

continued in the fourth story in the Greensleeves series 'Of Two
Minds'