SquidgeWorld Archive

Haunted
by Lady Midath

Julian Bashir walked into the sick bag, a couple of padds held in his hand. The recent outbreak of Tarkalian 'Flu had everyone in Medical working triple shifts. The whole station seemed to succumb to it. Even Major Kira had been off for over a week,sweating and shivering in the grip of the fever. In fact, the only one that seemed to escape it was Worf, the station's tactical officer. The huge Klingon had remained healthy as everyone had dropped all around.

"Klingon constitution". Miles O'Brian had muttered as he lay on the bio bed receiving yet another hypo spray injection to try and relieve the worst of the fever. He had watched as Worf helped lift yet another unfortunate Bajoran,stricken with the virus, onto a bio bed.

Bashir had chuckled and agreed.

Now it seemed that the worst of the Tarkalian 'Flu epidemic was over and finally the space station was able to get back to normal.

Bashir had just settled himself down at his computer, readying himself for today's workload, when the the doors to sickbay whoosed open. In strode Worf, looking grumpier than usual.

"Ah Lieuentant Commander Worf, what can I do for you"?

Worf glared at the smaller man seated at the computer console, his habitual frown deepening even further.

"I...that is to say that I... Well, Doctor Bashir I am not feeling well".

Bashir quickly stifled a grin. It seemed that to a Klingon, becoming ill was somewhat dishonorable, not to mention, downright embarrassing.

He got up from his chair. "Why don't you allow me to take a look at you"?

Worf sighed deeply. He did not like doctors. Not to say that he did not like Julian Bashir, he was not bad for a weak puny human, but he did not like doctors. They had a horrible tendency to poke and pry where thay had no right to

"Now just hop up on the bio bed and I can take a look at you". Bashir said as he picked up a medical tricorder

"Klingons do not hop Doctor". Worf replied, fixing the doctor with a stern glare.

Unfazed, Bashir started his examination, sweeping the medical tricorder over the annoyed Klingon. "Ha, here we have the problem Commander Worf, it seems that you are cooking up a nice case of Tarkalian 'Flu".

Worf looked startled. "But I thought that the 'flu had ended".

"We still have one or two people down with it". Bashir replied absently as he reset the tricorder. "And now that seems to include you".

He prepared a hypo spray and pressed it against Worf's neck. The huge Klingon winced slightly. Even though, the shots were painless, Worf still hated the feel of the spray as it entered his system.

"Now I suggest that you take a few days off and rest". Bashir told the huge warrior still sitting on the bio bed. "This hypo spray is not a cure, it only alleviates the worst of the symptoms. So I will inform the Captain that you will be unfit for duty for at least three days".

"Three days"? Worf stared at the smaller man standing in front of him. "But Doctor, I am a Klingon warrior surely I will have recovered within a day or so"?

Bashir smiled, shaking his head. "I'm afraid not Worf, in fact this particular strain of 'flu seems to hit Klingons and Cardassians even worse the Humans and Bajorans".

Worf snorted in disgust. Well he was certainly not going to allow some tiny bacteria to keep him in bed when there was work to be done on the station. After all, was he not the son of Mogh and a powerful and respected warrior?

"Go on back to your quarters Worf, get some rest. I will be over to check on you later". Bashir gently steered the disgruntled Klingon towards the door.

Grumbling under his breath, Worf headed off to the habitat ring. Bashir watched him go, a smile playing around his mouth. He had a feeling that Worf was not going to be one of his easier patients to care for.

Worf entered his quarters, his mood already bad, grew steadily worse as he noticed that the message icon on his computer was blinking. Sighing heavily, he sat down at the computer and called up the messages. The first was from Captain Sisko telling him that his shifts were being covered and that he was to get plently of rest.

The second was from Miles O'Brian sending a get well message. Worf grunted, annoyed at the cheerful expression on the Chief's good natured face.

The last was from Jadzia Dax, telling him that she would drop by later to check on him. The look of genuine concern on her face touched the Klingon. He had begun to feel fond of the Trill science officer.

There had also been a message from Garak, the Cardassian tailor, informing him that the alterations on his new uniform were finished and that he could pick it up any time he wanted.

Worf deactivated the computer and walked over to the replicator. "Prune juice, chilled". He barked.

The juice appeared in the slot and he carried it over to the table. Several padds were scattered across the polished surface. He picked one up and began to read the report. May as well catch up on some work while he was off on sick leave.

Soon he was engrossed in the reports, the glass of prune juice near his elbow.

Suddenly a movement caught the corner of his eye. Worf looked up. Nothing.

He returned to the padd, frowning slightly. Soon he was completely absorbed in the latest tactical report Something moved near the door. Worf put the padd down. Nothing there. "What the"... He stood up, then suddenly the room spun around. He sat back down heavily in the chair.

"Must be sicker than I thought". He muttered. he put his hand up to his forehead, he was burning up. Shakily, he pulled himself up on his feet. Clutching the table for support, he made his way over to the couch.

Slowly, he eased himself down on to the couch, leaning his head back. Suddenly his entire body was wracked with pain. He shivered and let out a string of Klingon curses. The 'flu had finally decided to hit full force. And it had hit with a vengence. He briefly considered calling Bashir, then decided against it. After all, it was a fever and some chills, nothing that should send a Klingon warrior scampering to a doctor.

"I'll just... lie down for a while. That should help". He got to his feet, swaying slightly. Then he gasped. His stomach cramped. he raced into the bathroom, just in time, as he bought up the entire contents of his stomach.

Worf managed to straighten up, his face soaked in sweat. He stripped his uniform off and tossed it into the clothes recycler. Then he stepped in to the sonic shower, relaxing as the sonic waves rinsed the sweat off his well muscled body.

He stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. Something moved behind him.

Worf whirled around. Nothing there. "I'm seeing things". He said, then shook his head. It must be the fever. He walked into his bedroom, stripping the towel off and drying himself. After changing into a pair of loose fitting black pants and a black shirt. He pulled the covers back on the bed.

Get some sleep, he told himself, and you will feel better in the morning.

Jadzia Dax hummed under her breath as she walked along the long grey corridor towards Worf's quarters. Julian Bashir had informed her of the Commander Worf's bout of Tarkalian 'Flu. Jadzia had just recovered from a bout of it herself, so she knew that Worf must be feeling terrible.

She arrived just outside his door. She pressed the button and she heard the buzzer from within.

"Enter". A gruff voice said. The door slid open as Jadzia stepped through into the main living area. Worf was sitting slumped on the couch.

"Worf, you look terrible". She exclaimed. She hurried over to where he was sitting.

"I am all right". He grumped.

Ignoring him, she laid her hand against his ridged forehead. "Worf, you are burning up, I am going to call Julian".

"There is no need. I am fine". Worf replied

"No you are not. Wait here, I am going to call him now". With that, she tapped her hand against her comm badge.

"Doctor Bashir here".

"Julian, I need to come to Worf's quarters, he is really ill". Jadzia said.

" I'm on my way".

"Hmmm, worse than I thought". Bashir said as he ran the medical tricorder over the disgruntled Klingon.

"It would seem that this particular strain is a lot more virulent then I thought, it has hit Worf quite badly.

"Is he going to be all right"? Jadzia asked, concerned. Worf glanced up at her, obviously annoyed. "There is no need to discuss me as though I were not in the room". He said.

She tapped him on the shoulder. "Be quiet, I am trying to listen to what Julian has to say".

Worf gave her a startled glance, then subsided into irritated muttering.

"He'll be fine, but I think another hypo spray,just to give the first on a bit of a boost. And then bed, with plenty of fluids and rest".

Jadzia nodded. "I have the next couple of days off, so I can stay and look after him".

"That is a fine idea". Bashir replied.

"There is no need for you to stay Commander Dax". Worf replied.

"Nonsense Worf". Bashir replied. "You are very ill, in fact I ought to take you back to sickbay, only I know that you would hate it there, so I am going to let you stay in your quarters, as long as Jadzia is here to look after you".

Worf looked as though he was going to argue. But then thought better of it. He was feeling very sick and he simply did not feel up to having to argue with both Dr Bashir, and Jadzia Dax. And besides, it would only be for a couple of days.

Bashir packed up his medical equipment and headed towards the door. "I'll be back tomorrow to check on Worf, now remember, plenty of fluids and rest".

With that, he let himself out of Worf's cabin.

Worf's eyes opened. He lay on the bed in the darkened room, wondering what had woken him up. The bedroom was empty, save for him. Jadzia was asleep in the spare room, he could hear her
gentle snores through the wall.

Slowly he sat up, his warrior sense were on high alert. There was some else in the room. Throwing the covers off, he swung his legs off the bed. He made his way to the door, trying to fight off the dizzyness that kept threatening to overwhelm him.

The living area was dark and still, the room was empty. Still the hair on the back of his neck rose. Worf gazed around. Suddenly something moved, there, at the very edge of his vision. A blurred figure raced past. Cursing, Worf sprang forward hands outstretched to grab the intruder. The huge Klingon fell forward, both hands clutching at air. He fell straight onto the low glass coffee table, smashing it to pieces.

"Good God, Worf, are you all right"? Jadzia hurried over to where Worf was laying among the broken pieces of metal and broken glass. Wincing, he managed to pick himself up. Jadzia helped him over to the couch.

"Here". The Trill said worried now. "Let me make sure you haven't cut yourself anywhere". She helped him strip his shirt off. Apart from a few bruises, Worf seemed fine. The glass had not actually managed to pierce flesh.

After settling the ill Klingon on the couch, she cleaned up the broken bits of glass and metal, throwing the pieces into the disposer.

Worf leaned back against the sofa, he had seen something, he was sure of it. Finally Jadzia had finished cleaning up the debris. She turned to Worf, a frown marring her otherwise unblemished
forehead.

"What happened in here Worf"?

He stared at her for a moment, then looked away. "I...I tripped and fell against the coffee table". He replied.

Jadzia sighed, then she walked over to where Worf was sitting. She seated herself beside him, taking his large hand in her much smaller one.

"Well, thank goodness you're not hurt. You could have been badly cut". Worf said nothing, but Jadzia could not help but notice the frown on his face, she could see that something was troubling him.

"Come on, I'll help you back to bed, you're still weak from the effects of this dammed 'flu.

"There is no need Lt Dax". Worf replied stiffly. He was not comfortable with all this attention that he been receiving since he had become ill.

With that, he got to his feet, then staggered. Jadzia grabbed his arm, steadying him. "I'm going to call Julian". She said, as she led Worf back to bed.

"There is no need". He replied as Jadzia helped him to lay down on the sweat soaked sheets.

"Stay there Worf, I'll be right back".

Jadzia returned with a cool compress and some clean sheets. Worf opened his mouth to protest, but the look on the smaller Trill's face was enough to stop him. One thing about Jadzia Dax, once she made her mind up to do something, nothing short of a full disruptor blast could stop her.

After stripping and remaking the bed with clean sheets, she settled the huge Klingon back down, then gently wiped his face with the compress.

"Worf, I think your fever has gotten worse, I've contacted Julian and he's on his way now".

Worf shook his head, irritated. "I told you Commander Dax, there is no need, it is just a slight fever, I will be fine".

"Fine, Worf, you collapsed and fell onto a coffee table, that in my book, is not fine".

Worf sat straight up, his dark eyes flashing. "I did not collapse"! "From what I heard, you did".

Both Worf and Jadzia turned to the bedroom door. Julian Bashir walked over to the bed. "I let myself in, hope you don't mind".

"Not at all". Worf muttered sarcastically. Bashir quickly stifled a grin. Klingons always made the worst patients and Commander Worf was definitely no exception.

"Now let's take a look". Bashir quickly examined the Klingon. "Hmm, the fever has definitely gotten worse. I don't think that hypo spray I gave you earlier helped at all. I'll prepare another, stronger
one, hopefully this might be a little more effective".

Worf groaned inwardly. Another hypo spray. Why was it that humans always resorted to bio beds and dermal regenerators, and hypo sprays whenever they had a slight headache. Klingons on the other hand would not have gone near a healer unless a limb had been lopped off, and usually, not even then.

Worf submitted to the injection with bad grace. "There, that should help". Bashir said. he turned to Jadzia. "I think I have finally managed to stabilize his temperature. But I think he should come back to the sick bay, just in case".

"No Doctor, I will be fine here". Worf said, his tone of voice, brooking no argument. Bashir looked down at his somewhat recalcitrant patient. "Worf, this strain of Tarkalian 'Flu is a lot worse than I thought.  I think it would be for the best if you returned to the sick bay where a trained medical staff could keep an eye one you".

"No thank you Doctor Bashir, I will be fine, just wish to be left alone". Worf looked pointedly at Jadzia, who ignored him.

"Very well then Worf". With a sigh, Bashir packed away his medical equipment. He turned to Jadzia. "If anything happens, anything at all, call me immediately. I mean it".

Jadzia nodded. "Don't worry Julian, I'll keep a close eye on him". Bashir let himself out of Worf's quarters, and Jadzia turned back to her bad tempered charge. "Now Worf, try to get some rest. If you need anything, call me. I'm right next door".

Worf settled down against the pillow, he was feeling light headed his stomach still cramping with nausea. he closed his eyes, trying to repress the shivers that wracked his body. By the beard of Kahless, would this damnable virus ever be done?

Garak was sitting down to a meal at Quark's. He lifted a glass of kanar to his lips, when Julian Bashir appeared beside the table. "Ah Doctor, please join me". Garak waved towards an empty seat.

"Thank you Garak". Bashir took a seat, a Ferengi waiter appeared with a menu.

"Just a ham and cheese sandwich thanks, oh and a cup of red leaf tea".

Garak raised an eyebrow ridge. Bashir smiled at the Cardassian. "I don't have time for anything more substantial I'm afraid". Bashir explained. He told Garak about Worf's illness.

"Ah, that explains why the good Commander Worf has not been by to pick up his uniform". Garak replied thoughtfully. Well I might drop it off for him later".

"That would be nice of you". Bashir replied. The waiter brought the food over and soon both the human doctor and the Cardassian tailor were enjoying their food while they chatted about station gossip.

Worf turned over, opening his eyes. He head hurt and his stomach was knotted with nausea. Bashir had been by twice to check on his patient, but it seemed that Worf was not getting any better. This particular strain of 'flu had decided to mount a virulent attack on Worf's system.

With a groan, the large Klingon sat up, then instantly wished he hadn't. Head swimming, he made his way into the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his sweaty face. He reached over to grab a towel, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror over the sink. There was someone standing behind him. With a growl, Worf spun around. The room behind him was empty.

Worf frowned, he saw someone in the mirror, standing just off to the left of him. A Bajoran. With a sigh he turned back to the sink, and froze. There written on the mirror was a single word...help.

Jadzia sat on the couch next to Worf, she was looking decidedly worried.

"Are you sure that you saw something Worf"? She asked.

"Yes, I am". He replied. After he had seen the letters on the mirror, he had stormed out of the bathroom, convinced that someone was playing tricks.

Determined to find the miscreant responsible, he had dressd and was about to leave the cabin, when Jadzia walked through the door.

"Worf, where do you think you are going? You are still far to ill to be wandering around the station".

"I am going to find who the fool is that thinks that he can play foolish tricks on me". He had growled ominously.

He explained what he had seen in the bathroom, including the writing on the bathroom mirror. "Someone has a foolhardy sense of humour". He told her. "And this must be corrected".

Jadzia quickly stifled a smile. She knew that Worf's pride was injured at the moment, and she briefly wondered who on the station was stupid enough to annoy a large and somewhat humourless Klingon especially while he was ill.

"Worf, are you sure that it's someone playing a joke on you"?

"What else could it be"? He asked.

"You re very ill right now Worf, your temperature has been through the roof". Jadzia replied gently. "Could it be possible that you might have been delirious at the time, that's why you think you saw something".

Worf opened his mouth to reply, then shook his head. "Jadzia, I know I saw someone standing behind me in the bathroom, and there was writing on the mirror. It was there"! His shoulder slumped. "Perhaps you are right". He admitted. "Perhaps it is because of this Tarkalian 'Flu".

Jadzia smiled, her heart going out to this big Klingon in front of her. "Come on Worf, back to bed, I'll bring you in something to eat, okay"?

Worf looked at her, frowning with annoyance. "I am not a child Jadzia".

Jadzia refrained from rolling her eyes. "I know that Worf". She replied. She steered him back into the bedroom, then she prepared a light meal for him. She was about to carry it into Worf, when the door buzzer sounded. It was Garak, with Worf's uniform.

"Ah Commander Dax, how are you"? He asked as he entered the living area. "Fine thank you". Dax replied.

"I heard that Commander Worf was ill". Garak continued cheerfully. "Tarkalian 'Flu I believe".

"I take it, Julian told you". Jadzia replied with a smile. Once he and Garak got together, they were worse then a couple of old biddies.

"We had lunch together today". Garak explained. Bashir and Garak usually met for lunch three of four times during the week. The rest of the station's staff could not figure out the attraction between the Human doctor and the Cardassian tailor, who everyone was sure, was a spy, planted there to keep tabs on everyone on the station.

Jadzia nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I'm afraid that Worf is too ill to see"...

"Oh no Commander, I did not wish to disturb him. I merely dropped by to give him his uniform. I did the alterations on it you see". Garak held the red and black uniform up as proof.

"I'll put it away for him". Jadzia said. Garak handed her the uniform. "Well, give my best to the good Commander for me". Garak said as he made his way to the door. Jadzia chuckled. "I will".

She carried the uniform and the tray into the bedroom. Worf was sound asleep. Jadzia smiled down fondly at the large warrior, curled up like a child under the covers. She reached out and touched his face. His fever was still running high. Jadzia sighed. Usually Klingon's could throw off virus's and diseases fairly easily. But Worf seemed to be getting worse, not better.

Jadzia hung the uniform in the closet and left the tray of food on the night stand, then, not wanting to disturb him, she let herself out.

She was about to walk over to the replicator and order a raktajino, when her comm badge sounded. "Commander Dax, you are need in Op's". It was Major Kira.

"On my way".

Jadzia left the cabin, hoping that Kira would not keep her too long. She did not like to leave Worf alone for any amount of time, in case he had another hallucination.

Worf was not sure how long he had been asleep for. He got up out of bed and padded barefoot out to the living area. The cabin was in complete darkness. Jadzia must have been called away.

"Computer, lights". Worf barked. The cabin was instantly flooded with light. Worf grunted and walked over to the replicator. He had noticed that Jadzia had left a tray of food for him, but it was cold. He did not feel hungry anyway. A glass of prune juice and a sonic shower was what he wanted.

He carried his juice over to the table, carefully setting it down. Then he noticed his personal computer message icon was blinking. It was Alexander, his son was now living on Earth with his human grandparents. Worf smiled. His son had sent him a get well message. Someone, possibly Jadzia, or Bashir must have contacted Worf's foster parents and informed them that he was ill.

Worf recorded a brief message to both his son and his mother and father, letting them know that he was feeling better. He knew that Helen and Sergi Rozhenko worried about him constantly.

After he sent the message. He went to the bathroom and had a long, soothing sonic shower. That and a change of clothes helped make him feel a lot better.

Worf walked back out to the living area again, and noticed that the message light was still blinking. Worf sighed. Another message. He sat down at the computer and ordered it to play it back.

The sound of faint static filled the room. Worf frowned. "Computer, adjust sound".

"Sound adjusted fifty eight per cent". The female voice of the computer told him.

The static was still bad, but Worf thought that he heard a voice under it. The screen flickered and rolled as the voice rose and fell in some garbled language that Worf's ears strained to pick up.

"Computer, clear sound further". He ordered.

"Background static cleared to ninety eight percent". The computer confirmed.

"Play entire message back" Worf said. The computer beeped, confirming the order. Then a female voice filled the room.

"Oh please no...no, please help me! Help me! It was not my fault".The voice wailed. "Oh please have pity"!

Worf stared at the static filled computer screen for a moment. Then he reached for his comm  badge.

"Worf to Constable Odo".

"Odo here".

Worf quickly told the space station's chief of security about the message.

"On my way Commander Worf".

Ten minutes later, Odo arrived at Worf's quarters. "Now, where is this message"?

"I will play it for you". Worf replied. "Computer, play back last message".

Alexander's voice come on. "Hello Father, how are you. I'm fine. Granma and Granpa say hello. They are both pretty worried about you..."

Odo turned to Worf. "This is the message that caused you so much concern Commander"?

"No, of course not". Worf snapped. "Computer, play back the last message that was sent".

"Last message was played back". The computer informed him.

"Computer, that was not the last message". Worf replied. "The last message was spoken by a female who did not identify herself".

"Last message sent was from Alexander Rozhenko to Commander Worf on Deep Space Nine". The computer said.

"Computer, there was another message after that one". Worf said, he was begining to feel frustrated.

"No message detected".

"Worf, are you sure you received another message"? Odo asked. He was puzzled, this was so unlike the Klingon Starfleet officer that Odo had come to know and respect.

"Yes Constable, I am sure". Worf replied. "After the message from my son, there was another. From a female. She sounded terrified, as though she were pleading for her life".

I could ask Chief O'Brian to check your computer, make sure that it is fuctioning properly". Odo suggested.

"No Constable, I don't think that will be necessary". Worf replied heavily. "I...I must have been mistaken".

Odo offered the Klingon a sympathetic smile. "You are still quite ill Commander, perhaps some rest"...

Worf nodded. "Thank you Odo, and I am sorry about".... he indicated towards the computer. Odo could see that Worf was embarrassed.

"Think nothing of it Commander. With that, Odo left Worf's cabin to return to his own office.

He was walking down the corridor, when he bumped into Jadzia.

"Hello Odo". She said. "What brings you to this part of the habitat ring?

"I just received a call from Commander Worf". Odo replied. He filled her in on what had just happened.

"Oh no". She breathed, after Odo had finished. "I knew he was still far too sick to have been left alone".

Odo nodded. "I think that you should inform Dr Bashir about this...hallucination that he seems to have had".

"I will, thanks Odo". With that, Jadzia hurried down the corridor, to Worf's cabin.

He was sitting on the couch, staring at the computer, a deep frown marring his ridged forehead. She went over to where he sat. "Worf, are you all right"? She asked, worried.

"I take it that Constable Odo informed as too what happened"? Worf asked drily.

"Yes, I bumped into him in the corridor". She replied. "He told me that you thought you heard something on your personal computer. A woman's voice".

Worf sighed. "I am certain that I heard something. He replied. "A voice, pleading and begging".

She frowned. "Why was she begging Worf"?

"I do not know". He admitted. "But whoever she was, she sounded terrified".

Jadzia thought for a moment. Then said. "But when you went to replay the message"...

"It was no longer there". Worf finished. "I know Jadzia, but it was there. I am sure of it. I heard a woman crying and pleading. I heard it"!

"I think that I should call Julian and"...

"No, it is not the fever doing this". Worf replied angrily. Abruptly, he stood up. "I am not hearing or seeing things Jadzia. Something is going on here, and I intend to get to the bottom of it".

Later that night, Worf lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He could not understand it. He had heard that voice on his computer, and he had seen that young woman standing behind him in the bathroom. Bashir and Jadzia had put it down to his illness, but Worf knew that it was more than that.

So what was the answer then, a ghost? Worf sighed. He had been raised in a house where ghosts were just fairy tales, not something to be taken seriously. But Klingons strongly believed in the power of the dead. One did not simply stop existing simply because death had claimed them. So was this a ghost? He was not sure. But he knew one thing for certain. No one on this station would believe him. He would have to go elsewhere for help.

Garak was humming under his breathed as he carefully hemmed the cocktail dress for one of the Dabo girls. Quark always insisted that the mostly Bajoran females that worked the tables always wore as little a possible. So Garak's dressmaking skills were always called on to shorten hems and lower necklines.

The door to his's tailor shop buzzed and he looked up. Worf walked over to the counter, where he was working.

"Ah, Commander Worf, I trust you are happy with the alterations on your uniform"?

"Yes". He replied gruffly. Worf did not like or trust Cardassians at all, and he particularly did not like this one.

"Good, good, you know I always take pride in my work, and in my customer's satisfaction, of course". Garak replied with a smile. "Now what can I do for you"?

"I need you to obtain some information for me". Worf said.

Garak looked at the Klingon in surprise. "Information? What kind of information"?

"I need to know who lived in my quarters before before me".

"I see, any particular reason why Commander Worf"?

Worf glared at the Cardassian. But Garak merely smiled back, completely unafraid, even though he was nearly a full head shorter then the Klingon Commander. Worf grunted, knowing that it would take a lot more to really intimidate Garak. The trouble was, he was still feeling very ill.

"I only ask because I am curious as to why you are coming to me and not Odo, or Captain Sisko". Garak explained.

"I just need to know who lived in my quarters before I arrived on this station. If you cannot help me"... The truth was, Worf did not want to go to either Sisko or Odo with any of this. Neither of them struck Worf as being open minded about mysterious females haunting the station. The last thing Worf wanted was them to think that he was mentally unfit for duty.

Garak held up both hands. "All right Commander, I did not say that I would not help you. Give me a couple of days and I shall see what I can find out".

"Fine, thank you". Worf replied gruffly. Then turned on his heel and strode out of Garak's shop.

"Hmmm, interesting". Garak murmured. Then went back to the dress he had been hemming.

Both Jadzia and Bashir were waiting for Worf, when he return to his cabin. Jadzia pushed herself up off the couch and hurried over to him, as he stepped through the door.

"Worf, where have you been, I've been worried sick about you". She said.

Worf sighed inwardly. "There is no need for your concern Commander Dax". Worf replied.

"Worf, you are still very sick, you shouldn't be wandering around the station without your comm badge". Bashir told him firmly. "You should still be in bed, after all you are supposed to be getting better".

"Yes Worf, why didn't you take your camm badge with you"? Jadzia asked.

Worf could see the concern in her eyes.

"I was only gone for a short time". He told them both. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to find out about his little trip to Garak's tailor shop.

"Well, I am going to give you a full checkup before I go". Bashir said, his tone brooking no argument.  Worf allowed the doctor to run the medical tricorder over him. "Well, you fever is slightly down, and your blood count is back to normal. But you are still a long way from recovered".

He put the tricorder away. "Now Worf, I want you to stay in bed and rest until this 'Flu in completely out of your system. Am I making myself understood"?

Worf nodded, irritated that this young doctor had just told him off as though he were a small child.

"Good". Bashir said. He turned to Jadzia. "PLease make sure that he does not go wandering around the station again until I give him the all clear".

Worf felt his temper rising. "I am not some child that needs a nurse to care for him"! He snapped.

"Then get some rest and stop wandering around and worrying the rest of us". With that, Bashir packed up his medical equipment left the cabin.

"Worf, where have you been"? Jadzia asked him gently. Worf sighed, he did not want to lie to her.

Lying was not the act of an honourable warrior. And Jadzia deserved better.

"I am tired". He said quietly. "I shall go to bed now".

"Can I bring you anything"? Jadzia asked, clearly concerned.

He shook his head. "No thank you Jadzia".

"I'll be in the next bedroom if you need anything". She said.

"Thank you". Worf walked into the bedroom, he was feeling a little tired, but he needed time to think. To try and figure out what in the name of Kahless was going on.

Slowly he undressed and after pulling on a sleeping shirt and matching pants. He climbed into bed. he was still feeling a little light headed from his earlier excursion to Garak's shop. If only this cursed 'Flu would end, then he would be able to think clearly. With these thoughts going through his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

The girl was standing at the foot of the bed, her hands stretched out in front of her. She looked cold, so cold and afraid. Worf was lying on the bed, watching her as she begged and pleaded, weeping tears of bitter cold. Her Bajoran earring flashed dully in the dim light from the stars outside.

"Who are you"? Worf heard himself ask, as though from a great distance.

" I am sorrow" She whispered. "I am eternal pain. I am misery, I am death".

"What do you want"?

" I want the truth to be known". She replied, her voice a thin dry whistle. I want my killer brought
to justice".

"But who was it that killed you"? Worf asked dreamily. The girl opened her mouth and shrieked.

Worf sat straight up in bed, he was covered in a cold sweat. Quickly he threw back the covers and swung his legs off the bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, a wave of dizziness washed over him. he staggered, then sat heavily back down on the bed.

He wiped his hand over his face. Worf had to admit, he had experienced some bad dreams before, but this little nightmare was the worst he'd ever had.

Carefully, he got to his feet again. He did not want another dizzy spell to knock him down. He walked around to the foot of the bed, looking around the room. Nothing was disturbed, everything seemed normal.

Worf let out a single Klingon curse, voicing what he thought of nightmares in general and this one in particular. He was about to get back into bed, when something dug into his foot. He bent down and picked it up. He lifted towards the dim light from the window. The tiny object flashed between his fingers. It was a Bajoran earring.

"And you say you found this when you woke up"? Garak said as he held the earring up to take a closer look at it.

"Yes". Worf replied. I want to find out what clan it is from".

"Bajorans don't exactly have clans". Garak replied, handing the earring back to Worf. "More like castes actually".

"Hmmph, whatever they do have, I want to know how it got into my bedroom". Worf replied.

Garak grinned. "Well then I take it that you have not had any...shall we say, female company since you arrived Commander Worf"?

Worf fixed the Cardassian with a look that would have cowered most men, but then again, Garak was not most men.

"No I have not"!

"Well, then you are going to find this little piece of news interesting then". Garak replied. He had come to Worf's cabin that morning, claiming that he had dug up some information that Worf would find most interesting.

Worf had first told him about the dream, and then about finding the earring. He had thought that the Cardassian might be able to use it in identifying the owner.

Garak had listened very carefully. Having been trained by the Obsidian Order when he was younger, Garak had become adept at listening quietly, and with great attention. He found it particularly useful during interrogations, people were apt to tell you so much more than they normally would when they had an attentive audience.

When worf had finished. Garak then told him what he had discovered. "It did not take me as long as I thought it would". He had explained. "In fact most of the records were not even sealed. Humans, they are so open...so honest, with nothing to hide. It's a wonder that their species had lasted this long".

"Well, what did you discover"? Worf asked, impatiently.

"Well you asked me to find out who had lived in your cabin before you. A Starfleet officer by the name of Lt Even Byrall. He was here for a short while, then got a posting aboard the Enterprize D. I did some background checks on him and turned up precisely nothing".

Worf shook his head, frustrated. "Was there nothing at all"?

"Well, I decided to dig a little deeper". Garak replied. "All the former occupants were either Starfleet officers or non-Bajorans. Then I found a record that went back to when the station was still under Cardassian control. And there I discovered a Cardassian Gul by the name of Erak. Tlain Erak,Gul First Order".

"Yes". Worf leaned forward in his seat. "And"?

"Well, it seemed that this Gul had a...shall we say weakness for Bajoran females. I could never see the attraction for Bajoran women myself". Garak said. "Too frail, all that soft pink skin". He shook his head, clearly wondering at the dubious tastes of his fellow Cardassians.

Worf smiled to himself, refraining from pointing out to Garak about his own attraction to a certain doctor right here on the station.

"What has this to do with what has been happening to me"? Worf asked.

"It has everything to do with what's been happening Worf". Garak replied. "This Gul Erak had a favourite comfort woman. In fact he grew so fond of her that he had her move into his quarters with him. These very quarters as a matter of fact".

"I see". Worf replied thoughtfully. "And who was she"?

"Her name was Merok". Garak replied. Merok Rylann. She was quite young. Only sixteen".

Worf shook his head, sickened that such a young girl could be used in such a way. It would seem that Cardassians had no honour at all.

"What became of her"? He asked.

"It's not very clear. The records at that time were not well kept. After all, my people had their hands full with  the Federation, and they were preparing to withdraw from Bajoran space. I assume that after the Occupation, she simply returned home".

"I need to find out". Worf said suddenly. "I will go to Bajor and"...He stopped, grimacing with pain.

"You are not going anywhere Commander, you are still suffering the effects of the 'Flu. I shall find out what became of her". Garak said firmly.

Worf looked up at him. "You of all people cannot go to Bajor. You would be torn apart".

Garak nodded. "True, but I don't have to go to Bajor. I have...other means at my disposal".

Worf nodded. He could imagine what those other means were. But he found that sometimes it was better not to ask questions.

"You will let me know as soon as you find anything". It was not a question. Garak nodded. "Of course Commander". Garak, finished with his business, got up to leave. Suddenly Worf held the earring out to him. "You might be needing this".

Garak took the earring and tucked it into a pocket. "I shall contact you when I have some answers Commander". With that, he left the cabin. Worf watched him leave, wondering if he had made a mistake in trusting a man that he knew to be a former interogator, assassin and spy.

Then he decided that he really had no choice, not if he wanted some answers and hopefully some peace and quiet.

The Cardassian did not seem at all happy to be contacted by Elim Garak. "What is it you want now"?  He snapped impatiently. "Hello Gertak, how are you"?

"Fine, what do you want"?

"Just some information, that's all".

Gertak stared at Garak suspiciously."What kind of information"?

"I need to trace the whereabouts of a Gul Erak".

"Gul Erak, hmmm". Gertak frowned. "May I ask why"?

"I need to speak with him". Garak replied, patiently.

"Wait a moment". Garak watched as the Glinn operated the computer that he was sitting in front of. Finally he managed to bring up some information on the screen.

"It would seem that your Gul Erak can't be reached". He said. Garak frowned. "And why not"?

"Because he died two years ago. Swamp Fever apparently".

Garak drew a deep breath. "I see, then in that case, could you look up someone else for me".

The Glinn sighed deeply. "Very well".

"A Bajoran female. She had been a comfort woman on Terok Nor at the same time that Erak had been stationed there".

"Wait a moment, I'll see if there is something, but as far as I know, there are not a lot of records about comfort women".

"Well I would certainly appreciate it if you would try". Garak replied.

"Ah, I think that I have found something". The Glinn said suddenly. "Yes, here it is". Garak smiled at the sound of triumph in the younger man's voice. A true bureaucrat.

"There is a file on the Bajoran female you were asking about. Merok Rylann. Hmm, it would seem that she died before the Occupation was over".

"How did she die"? Garak asked.

"It would seem that she died of a head wound. She was killed. her body was buried on Bajor. That's all the information I have".

Garak inclined his head. "Thank you for all your trouble". He switched the computer off. "Well, a mystery, or just a sordid little muder". He mused to himself.

"...and so it seems that he had murdered her". Garak said as he set the glass of Kanar down onto the coffee table. He had come straight to Worf's quarters with the information.

"So he killed her, but why I wonder"? Worf replied. Garak shrugged. She was a comfort girl, plenty more where she had come from. She probably did something to anger him. Or perhaps she had become too demanding and he had tired of her. It was not as though anyone would have cared".

Worf regarded the other man with distaste. "Klingons do not kill those weaker than ourselves. It is not honourable"!

Garak chuckled. "And that my friend is why I am so fond of your species".

Worf grunted. "Well, I thank you for discovering all this for me. At least I know who she was, and what had happened to her".

"But one thing I don't understand Commander". Garak said. "Why did you only just start seeing this..ghost now"?

Worf frowned and shook his head. "I am not sure. I think it may have been the fever. I was so ill, perhaps it"...

"Opened your perceptions a little more". Garak supplied.

Worf glanced at the Cardassian, then nodded. "Perhaps".

"Well, stranger things have happened". He said cheerfully. "Now the stories that I could tell you. But perhaps another time".

"Stories, or lies"? Worf asked darkly. He knew Garak's reputation for playing fast and loose with the truth.

Garak chuckled. 'Whichever is more entertaining". With that, he drained his glass, then rose to leave.

"Well now you little mystery is solved and I shall return to my shop".

"Oh wait". He fished inside his pocket and pulled out the earring. I thought you might like this back".

Worf accepted it. "Thank you."

Worf watched him leave. Then smiled to himself. Even though he would never trust Garak, he had to admit, he was interesting, if nothing else. He carried the glasses over to the  disposer and then walked into the bedroom. It was late, and he was tired. Some sleep. Then hopefully after a visit to Bashir, he would be declared medically fit and be able to return to his duties.

"Please, it wasn't my fault".

Worf's eyes opened, he looked over the side of the bed. There, a girl was kneeling, head down,  lank dark blonde hair hanging over her face.

"What is your name child"? Worf asked gently.

The girl looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen with weeping."He killed me you know". She whispered. "He killed me because..."

"Be cause, why"? Worf asked her.

Merok shook her haid. "Because I laughed at him".

"I see". Worf nodded, encourging her to continue.

"I did not mean to laugh, but he had been drinking, he could never really hold his kanar. He stumbled over the table and fell. I laughed, and he became so angry".

"And he killed you because he did not like you laughing at him".

She nodded miserably. "But I did not mean too". She sounded like a small child.

"What he did was dishonerable and cowardly". Worf told her. "To kill someone weaker and less able to defend themselves. What he did was wrong".

Merok gave him a small smile. "I thought it was my fault. Laughing at a Cardassian Gul... It was foolish".

"Still, there was no reason for him to take your life". Worf replied softly.

Her smile broadened. "You are kind Commander Worf". She replied. Worf looked at her surprised. "How is it you know my name"?

"I have been here for some time now, I hear a lot".

Worf chuckled. "Well, I hope that I have not disturbed you too much".

"Oh no". She replied earnestly. "You are very quiet actually, for a Klingon". Then she blushed.

Worf laughed. "That is good, but tell me one other thing Merok Rylann, how is it that I can see you now and not before"?

Merok thought for a moment, then she looked up at Worf, her dark eyes serious. "I think it was the sickness that you had. I think somehow, it helped open a... a door if you like. A door to another place. But now that you are feeling better, I think that door will close and you won't see me anymore".

Worf heard the note of sadness in the Bajoran girl's voice, and was strangely touched by it.

"I am afraid that you are correct Merok Rylann". He replied. "But that does not mean that I shall forget you". She suddenly got to her feet and gave him a beautiful smile. For a moment, Worf felt something loosen in his chest. She was so heartbreakingly young, so innocent and untouched. He felt a sudden sorrow and pure rage at the man that had killed her so carelessly in a drunken rage. And what was worse, Worf could not even extract revenge for this lovely girl standing in front of him.

"I wish that he were still alive". Worf said. "So that you could be avenged".

Merok shook her head. "Revenge, no, what's the point, we are both dead and dust. I will continue, until I forget all that I once was, all that I knew, all that I cared for. And then I shall go to where the Prophets wait. And there I shall become whole again".

Worf nodded, admiring her absolute faith, and her courage. "Goodbye then Merok Rylann...may you walk with the Prophets".

She smiled and inclined her head. Worf was struck once more by her dignity and beauty. "And goodbye to you Worf. And thank you for allowing to share some time with you. It gets so lonely sometimes".

"I have something that is yours". Worf picked up the earring from the nightstand, and handed it to her. She accepted it with a smile of gratitude. Then she took a step back, and she was gone.

Worf climbed out of bed. But there was no sign that she had ever been. "Farewell Merok Rylann". He whispered.

Worf was standing at the console, frowning down at the controls, he was still trying to get used to the space stations mixture of Federation and Cardassian technology.

Everyone was pleased that Worf was finally over the 'Flu and was back at work. Especially Jadzia. She walked over to where he was standing.

"You are definitly looking better Commander". She told him teasingly.

"And I am feeling better". He replied.

"No more seeing things then"?

Worf looked at Jadzia for a moment, then shook his head. "No, no more ghosts".

END