Title: Crossback Author: Kathryn Ramage Series: DS9 (AU) Codes: G/B (alt-G/B and G/alt-B) Rating: NC-17 for the opening scene, although there are also some rough alt-G/B scenes later on. Summary: A sequel to my alternate alternate-universe story, "Images in a Broken Mirror." After the Terran rebels succeed in capturing Terek Nor, Intendant Garak crosses over to DS9 and kidnaps Bashir. Setting: Near the end of the 3rd season, soon after Part II of "Images in a Broken Mirror," but before the episodes "Improbable Cause/The Die is Cast," and "Explorers." Once again, the alt-characters featured here are not the same as the ones that appear in DS9's later Mirror episodes. Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, and the characters. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. The poem quoted in the first section is "The Lady's Yes," by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1844). Copyright June 2000 /~i~/ Since Bashir's return from the alternate universe, his relationship with Garak had been progressing slowly from lunch dates to dinner at Quark's, to dinner in his quarters. And Garak had been staying later and later each evening. They were on the sofa that night, Julian lying nestled with one of Garak's arms around him while the tailor read selected poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning from a datapadd: "Lead her from the festive boards, Point her to the starry skies, Guard her, by your truthful words, Pure from courtship's flatteries." Bashir's choice, but if Garak had any critical comments, he kept them to himself. He finished: "And her Yes, once said to you, Shall be Yes for evermore." Then he handed Bashir the padd and announced, "Doctor, it is growing late," before easing Julian off his chest. As he sat up, Julian turned around to face his companion. "Do you have to go?" he asked wistfully. Garak studied the doctor's forlorn face before he leaned forward to bestow a quick kiss. "No, I don't have to," he replied. "Why don't you read one more poem? I'll have another drink. And perhaps we can discuss whether or not you will let me spend the night?" Bashir was caught unprepared by this suggestion. Up until now, Garak had allowed him to advance at his own pace; the tailor had only prompted him once before, after their first private dinner. He'd been hesitant, awkward, uncertain how to let his friend know that he wanted to take their relationship one step further, and Garak had made it easy for him by asking, "May I kiss you?" Julian had only to give his consent. Garak must have noticed that he'd been inventing excuses to detain him these past few nights, and thought he needed another push. But it wasn't as easy to consent this time. "Garak, I-" "You do want me to?" He did...and he didn't. He thought that he was falling in love and, after all the time they'd spent together lately, he knew he wanted to be closer. And yet he was reluctant to take this step. At the heart of the matter, he knew he was afraid that, if they actually tried to make love, he wouldn't be able to go through with it. What if he were overwhelmed by unwanted memories of what that other Garak had done? What if he panicked? It had happened once before, when Garak had tried to touch him in less intimate circumstances. After they'd both worked so hard to reach a point where he was comfortable with Garak again, he couldn't stand another disastrous setback. "I'd like you to stay," Julian tried to explain. "It's just that I- I don't know how far I can go. I don't want to lead you on with false expectations." "I have no expectations." "But you want to go to bed with me?" "Oh, yes." This brought a soft smile. "You're being extraordinarily patient then." "I have learned to be patient to get what I want," Garak told him frankly. "I've waited a long time for you, my Julian. You are far too important to me-" a second kiss, "to risk spoiling things now by moving too quickly." Julian had suspected for some time how deeply Garak felt about him, but it was gratifying to hear him say it out loud. "All right," he decided. "You can stay the night." When they prepared for bed, Garak replicated a long, loose- fitted sleeping robe of traditional Cardassian design, and Julian put on his own pajamas. In spite of Garak's assurances, he didn't want to be too provocative; the modest outfit that covered him from collar to ankles seemed like the perfect thing. He climbed into bed beside the tailor. They kissed once, and he snuggled down with his head resting on Garak's chest. For awhile, he lay comfortably in the tailor's arms, soothed by the slow heartbeat, the rise and fall of each breath, and the fingers that stroked lightly between his shoulderblades. They didn't speak, and Garak made no move to take him any further. Julian was impressed: he knew how much Garak wanted him--it frightened him a little--but this show of restraint made him realize that nothing was going to happen tonight unless he wanted it to. Feeling adventurous, his fingers sought the opening on the sleeping robe and stole between the panels of soft fabric. He lifted his head for another kiss, then Garak, who had been waiting for him to make the first move, tugged open the collar of his pajamas to nuzzle his throat. There had been some tentative touching before this, but the intimacy of the situation and their loose clothing gave them more freedom to explore. The kisses deepened. Caresses grew more bold. Julian's reluctance evaporated. The rest of the buttons on his pajama top were opened one by one, and it wasn't long before he'd wriggled out of the bottoms. That Cardassian robe, he discovered, opened all the way down the front--the sensation of scaled skin against the length of his own body was surprisingly and unbearably arousing. They rubbed, hard, against each other and, with the hardness, an effusion of cool, slick, natural lubrication moistened his thighs; he moved slightly to part them. He rolled, bringing Garak on top of him, and whispered, "Gently, Elim." Garak pulled away to look at him. "You're quite certain? You know you don't have to-" "No, I want to," he answered. "Please." More than a desire; he needed to prove to himself that he could do this. If they were able to be together this way, then he would know their relationship had not been blighted. He could finally banish the last of those ugly memories. There was some hasty preparation between more kisses, shedding of clothes, rearranging of pillows, and shifting to find a comfortable position. And then it was happening. He felt a flutter of anxiety at the presence pushing in between his legs--remembering the other Garak doing this to him more forcefully--and he shut his eyes tightly and held his breath as it slid slowly deeper inside him. He had expected pain, but there wasn't any. There wasn't much of anything else, for that matter. Garak was taking that 'gently' very seriously indeed! This couldn't be much fun for him either, Julian thought; the poor man must be terrified. He had to let Elim know that it really was all right to make love to him. As he pulled Garak's head down to say something encouraging, Julian's lips brushed the cartilaginous ridge beneath the tailor's earlobe. He recalled some advice he'd once been given: *He likes it when you nibble on those scales under his ears.* Julian tried it. Taking the ridge between his teeth, he bit down experimentally. The response was remarkable: Garak caught him up, lifting him off the mattress with a single energetic thrust that brought his mouth away from the Cardassian's neck with an astonished cry and sent him into the pillows. Garak was on him immediately, covering him with kisses, sweeping him up into that passion he had provoked. Julian could only hang on. Yes, that was much better. Afterwards, as Bashir curled up in his lover's arms, Garak asked, "How did you learn to do that?" "Someone told me you would like it. Do you?" "Hmn...yes. But you really shouldn't bite so hard." "I didn't hurt you?" He reached up to examine the ridge, but Garak quickly captured his hand. "No, but you must realize that that spot is one of the more sensitive areas on a Cardassian male's body--a sharp blow on the nerve cluster there can be painful, even debilitating, but a more discerning touch can trigger a...powerful response of a different kind. I could never forgive myself if I were to lose control and inadvertently injure you. Whoever taught you..." Garak started up and regarded him with incredulity. "It wasn't my counterpart?" "Oh, no!" Julian hastened to assure him. "If you must know, it was _my_ counterpart." The tailor seemed relieved at this information, but he was still curious. "You didn't tell me you'd met him." Julian sighed. "He wasn't a mirror-image I was happy to face. He was a prostitute and a spy, one of the Terran rebels." "He sounds like a fascinating young man. Can I assume that at least one of these professions brought him into contact with that other Garak?" "Mhm. But, please, let's not talk about them." While he could handle a certain amount of joking, Julian was not entirely comfortable with this subject. "It spoils the mood." "Yes, my dear, of course." Julian snuggled close again. "It's over now, Elim. I'd prefer to forget all about it." /~*~/ After Garak left him in the early hours of the morning, Julian lay happily contemplating the enormous change this new relation- ship would bring into his life. Tonight, he felt loved. He felt more at peace in his own mind than he had in months. He and Garak would be together after all; the horrible thing that had been done to him would not always lie between them. Every- thing was going to be all right... He was on the brink of sleep when the door to his quarters whisked open. Julian lifted his head and blinked drowsily at the familiar silhouette in the bedroom doorway. "Elim? Why'd you come back?" "I couldn't stay away," Garak answered as he approached the bed. He stood over Julian, one hand stroking the doctor's bare shoulder. "After all this time, I find it impossible to think of anything but you." Abruptly, he grabbed Bashir and pulled him up from the mattress to crush him into a kiss. The kiss told him. Throughout their courtship, Garak had been extremely careful with him; even tonight, in his most passionate moments, the Cardassian had not forgotten that he was stronger and hardier than his human lover. But the lips on his now were hard and bruising. This man didn't care if he hurt him or not. This wasn't his Garak. Julian began to struggle against the arms that held him too tightly and tried to kick through the blanket tangled around his legs. He cried out once, and a swift cuff to his temple knocked him out. /~*~/ At 0720, Sisko went to the Infirmary to look for his doctor, who had failed to appear at the morning staff meeting. As he crossed from the turbolift, Garak, on the Promenade, moved to intercept him. "Commander Sisko!" the tailor called out. "If you're looking for Dr. Bashir, I'm afraid you won't find him." "Well, where is he?" "I can't tell you." "Garak..." Sisko said impatiently, not in the mood for Cardassian games. "Commander, I don't _know_." It was only then that Sisko heard the note of genuine anxiety in Garak's voice. "I've been to his quarters. He isn't there. He hasn't been to the Infirmary this morning either." Sisko's first action was to confirm this. "Computer, locate Dr. Bashir." <<<Dr. Bashir is not on the station.>>> "I've just come from the Security Office," Garak added, "but perhaps the Bajoran deputy on duty will be more receptive if he hears from _you_." "All right, I'll have Odo-" Sisko began, when he caught a glimpse of a strangely familiar face in the crowd on the Promenade. A young human male was headed purposefully toward them. If Sisko didn't know better, he would have said that this was his missing doctor attempting a disguise: Except for the short- trimmed beard, the casual civilian clothes, and the long hair that curled around his ears and over the nape of his neck, he looked enough like Bashir to be his twin brother. But the true relationship was even closer than that. Garak turned to see what had distracted Sisko, and gaped as the young man drew nearer to them. Jules Bashir gave the Cardassian a bashful glance, but his message was for Sisko: "Commander, O'Brien sent me to find you. It's about Intendant Garak--he's crossed over." /~ii~/ Bashir didn't know how long he had been unconscious. When he opened his eyes, he lay on a cold metal floor, gritty with uridium dust. Nor did he know where he was. The small room he'd been brought to had a Cardassian look to it: the inter- face on the control panel near the door, the shapes of the disused conduits that slanted up from floor to ceiling at a variety of angles. One, huge, horizontal duct crossed the wall behind him a half-meter above the floor and, through it, he could hear the distant, humming vibration of machinery. A ship's engines? The generator of a space station--but which one? DS9 or Terek Nor? The room was lit only by the faint yellowish glow of the emergency panels, but he knew he had not been left alone. The other Garak stood hidden amidst the tangle of conduits. Julian could hear soft, regular breathing, and he soon found the outline of the humanoid shape as a darker entity within the amber-tinted shadows. The star that lit Cardassia Prime was dimmer than Earth's sun; their vision was attuned to lower levels of light. Garak could see him better than he could be seen--the Cardassian must have observed that he was awake now, but remained disturbingly silent. Aware of the eyes upon him, Julian sat up, and winced at a sharp pain at his temple. His hand went to the lump on the side of his head, where Intendant Garak had struck him. "I am sorry," the familiar voice spoke from the shadows. "But, you see, I knew you wouldn't agree to come with me voluntarily." The Cardassian stepped out into the pale light. He was not wearing a Guls' uniform, but a plain, black suit with a disruptor tucked into a broad, pocketed belt. "I don't want to be cruel to you, Bashir, but as long as you resist me, you leave me no other choice." Clutching his blanket protectively, Julian glared up at his captor and demanded, "What do you want, Garak?" Fear made his voice sharp, but he was determined not to give into it and let this man see just how frightened he was. "Can't you guess? I came for you." He crouched to face his prisoner. "I've thought a lot about you since our last encounter, Bashir. You've been to my universe twice--I thought it would only be polite if I repaid the visit. I had to find out if I occupied your thoughts as often as you have mine." "And so you brought me here to have another go." "Oh, eventually," the Intendant replied. "You and I will be spending a lot of time together." "I'll fight you." "You fought before," he was smugly reminded. "It didn't do you any good. It won't be different this time." He chuckled. "But why this pretense? I had my hopes that I would be remembered, but I must say, the nature of your 'friendship' with your Garak came as an encouraging surprise." "I don't know what you're talking about," Bashir answered guardedly. "Then your good friend 'Elim' is accustomed to 'come back' to your bedroom in the middle of the night? It's no use lying--I _know_ you've been with him." He leaned closer, face brushing centimeters from Bashir's collarbone so that the doctor recoiled. "I can still smell him on you. If I were to take you now, I'd find you slick with his seed. I have to believe that _I_ had something to do with this taste you've developed for Cardassian lovers." "If we are together," Julian retorted, "it's in spite of what you did to me--not because of it! It was very hard for me to get over that. If my Garak-" He couldn't bear to call his lover and this man by the same name; it was difficult enough seeing the same face. "If Elim hadn't been so wonderful and understanding-" "So wonderful and understanding," the Intendant echoed mockingly, "that you give yourself to him willingly, while you spurn _me_. What is the difference?" He sat on the floor in front of Bashir. "Enlighten me--I'm genuinely curious about this 'wonderful' Mr. Garak whose company you prefer so much to mine." "I've told you why." The Intendant ignored this. "I want to know more about him. Is he an officer in your Terran empire?" "No," Bashir answered. "He's a civilian. A tailor." "Not a man of military rank or political influence," the Cardassian mused; he sounded disappointed. "He lives on your station, this humble tailor, to be near you..." Julian did not correct the mistaken assumption. "He must be extremely attached to you." "Yes, he is. My Elim cares for me. He cares what I feel. All _you_ know how to do is capture and violate." Bashir expected to be slapped for this, but the Intendant appeared to give his remarks serious consideration. "Do you think I enjoy hurting you?" he responded, "I wouldn't, if you would only learn how to submit. I can be generous. I treated your counterpart very well." "I can imagine," Julian said drily. "As long as he did what- ever you wanted. But what happened when he didn't?" "My Jules was always accommodating, no matter what I required of him. I never had to rebuke him for disobedience." The Intendant leaned close again. "Do you know, he was so well- behaved a slave that when he disappeared, I thought the Terran rebels had stolen him and put _you_ in his place to spy on me --as if I wouldn't notice the difference between one Bashir and another. I didn't see the truth until it was too late. Jules was working for the rebels, wasn't he?" "O'Brien trained him specially and put him where you would find him," Julian told him. "Your obedient slave was sending reports to the rebellion right under your nose." Jules had been right: there was satisfaction in telling Intendant Garak what a fool he'd made of himself. But that satisfaction came with a price. Before he saw it coming, he was seized by both shoulders and shoved back, slammed repeatedly against the hard metal of the duct behind him until one of the hatches fell off and clattered on the floor, and he saw stars. As he lay sprawled, the Intendant reached for him again. Bashir yelped and kicked out; his foot landed on the solid chest and he shoved the Cardassian away. Intendant Garak caught him by the ankle and thrust his knee back against his own chest. "We've played this game before. Have you forgotten? We agreed then that I can do anything I want with you. The sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be. You might even enjoy yourself--I think you'll find I can be your Garak's equal...or more." He smiled pointedly as he pressed forward. Julian glared back, his entire body trembling with terror and a hatred for this man he would have once found impossible to believe himself capable of. "You are _not_ my Garak," he spat defiantly, "and I will _never_ be your accommodating, well- behaved Jules." The Intendant's face darkened as his own words were flung back at him; he looked ready to slam Bashir into the wall again, but restrained himself. "You will." And then he let go. "Eventually," he promised as Julian scrambled free. "But that isn't the only reason why I wanted you, Bashir. You can give me a great deal of information about your universe: I need to understand it, before I can change it." /~*~/ The DS9 senior staff convened in Ops half an hour later than scheduled. Kira, Dax, and O'Brien were there promptly at 0730; Odo was notably absent, and Sisko arrived late. The crew was mildly surprised as Garak stepped off the turbolift with him, and astounded at the young man who accompanied them. "This is _Jules_ Bashir," Sisko introduced the doctor's twin, then gathered his staff in his office to brief them. "Dr. Bashir is missing. Security is investigating his disappearance, but we have reason to believe that Mr. Garak's counterpart from the alternate universe is responsible." "_He's_ here?" Kira's voice was sharp. "What makes you think this other Garak has- er- our Julian?" O'Brien asked as he sat down. Jules took a seat beside Miles. "He's here, and he's looking for revenge," he answered both. "Since he lost Terek Nor, we've been expecting him to strike back." "Then the raid on Terek Nor was successful?" asked Kira. "It's ours now. Professor Bateson set up a cloak, so the Bajorans never know exactly where we are in orbit and they can't blast us out of the sky." Jules turned to look out of the large, ovoid window behind the commander's desk. "I bet the professor and Miles--my Miles--would love to know how you got your station all the way out here." Chief O'Brien began, "It took some trouble-" but shut up when Sisko shook his head, warning him not to give away too much information. "What about Intendant Garak?" the commander asked. "We were expecting him to do something," Jules repeated, "and, last night, he did. The Intendant got aboard the station somehow. This morning, the two guards on night-watch in the Operations Center were gone--killed, probably--and someone had been in the main computer. Miles changed all the security codes when we first took over, but some kind of override was used, one that only the station's intendant would know. It had to be him. He'd looked up information on the universe-crossing transporter--my Miles and Professor Bateson are working on the one in Operations--and it'd been used." "And so O'Brien sent you?" Sisko asked. "He couldn't come himself, and he said I was the best one to go," Jules replied. "We used the same coordinates Garak used, and I wound up in your docking ring. I was only supposed to warn you about Garak, Commander. We didn't know what he was up to `til I found you and heard that your doctor was gone." He looked at the others around the room. "It makes sense--now that he's an outlaw in our universe, Intendant Garak would come over to yours." They all noted Jules's reference to Intendant Garak as an 'outlaw', but Kira was the one who asked, "The Alliance hasn't been exactly forgiving since he lost the station?" "More than that." The elfish smile he gave them was very like Dr. Bashir's in a mischievous mood. "It was all Miles's doing. When he went to Terek Nor with you and your doctor, he accessed Intendant Garak's computer and sabotaged the station's defense systems, so that we could knock them down. Then he added some false communications records, to make it look like Garak had been sending information to the rebellion for months. Intendant Garak got away when Terek Nor fell, but we made certain the Alliance got hold of the evidence against him. They arrested him for treason the minute he landed on Bajor and were going to execute him, but he escaped. "We heard about his escape, but no one knew where he was until he got back onto the station. What else could he do but come here? The Alliance is more eager to get him than _we_ are, and he blames your people for what's happened, Commander--you, and Major Kira, and he has a special grudge against your doctor." At the far end of the room, Garak kept his eyes fixed on the young man speaking--a person whose existence he had not even heard of until last night. The resemblance to his Julian was startling; the facial hair concealed his features, but the cadence of the voice, the mannerisms, that smile, were all too familiar. Fortunately, he was not the only one distracted by the visitor's likeness to their doctor; this other Bashir might be an old acquaintance to Commander Sisko and Major Kira, but the usually unflappable Lt. Dax was staring and O'Brien was obviously flustered by the young man seated so close to him-- and undoubtedly by this Bashir's frequent, casual references to another 'Miles'. Jules Bashir, on the other hand, had barely glanced in _his_ direction. From what Garak had deduced regarding this Bashir's relationship with his own counterpart, that was perhaps under- standable. So far, he had not contributed to the discussion: he did not want to betray the fact that he was frantic with worry. Once, he would've been astonished at the depth of proprietary and protective feelings that the Federation doctor roused in him, but after so many months of tender, patient effort to regain Julian's trust, he'd had time to grow accustomed to the incredible fact that he was in love. And after last night... He would probably have involved himself in the doctor's rescue in any case, but Julian was _his_ now in a way he had not been even yesterday. This new bond between them created certain obligations. To act, he needed information. And so he had asked Sisko if he could attend this conference. The door whisked open and Odo came in. "What have you found, Constable?" asked Sisko. "We've examined Dr. Bashir's quarters," Odo reported. "The doctor's commbadge is on the nightstand in his bedroom, de- activated, and his uniform is on the floor. The blanket is missing from the bed, but the bedsheets are untouched--it appears as if he never slept in them. We found no physical evidence of an intruder," he threw a suspicious look at Garak, "except for a datapadd on the sofa in the living area. It has your fingerprints on it." "Were you in Dr. Bashir's quarters last night?" Sisko asked. Garak thought he had done a thorough job of removing all evidence of his presence from Bashir's quarters--disposing of the stained bedsheets, his robe, Bashir's pajamas, the glasses they had left on the dining-table--but he'd been in haste to begin his search for Julian and had overlooked this. At least, he consoled himself, a datapadd was not especially incriminating. "Yes," he said. "The doctor and I had dinner together." "You must have been the last person to see him," Odo growled. "When did you leave?" Garak's first instinct was to lie, to preserve his lover's reputation, but facts were needed to establish the correct time of Julian's abduction. "We stayed up rather late," he answered, "arguing about some maudlin Earth poetry the doctor seemed to think had literary merit. It must have been at least 0300 when I left him." "And you were the first person to realize he was missing?" "Yes. We had agreed to meet for breakfast at 0630, to continue our discussion. Dr. Bashir did not show up." As he spoke, he noticed that Jules Bashir was regarding him with sudden curiosity, but when he met the young man's eyes, Jules quickly looked away. "So," Odo concluded, "that leaves a three-and-a-half-hour window of opportunity during which Dr. Bashir could have been abducted." "And another hour before we closed the station to outgoing traffic," said Sisko. "Now, how many ships left DS9 during that period?" Kira checked the station's traffic logs from the terminal behind the desk. "Only two," she reported. "A Lessepian freighter headed for the Khefka system at 0430, and a private shuttle to Bajor that left just half an hour ago. We can send runabouts to intercept them-" "Wait," said Garak. "That may not be necessary." For the first time, he addressed the doctor's twin: "You said that your Intendant Garak transported over to our station?" And, at Jules's nod, "He has no ship of his own, no confederates here to help him arrange an escape?" Following his train of thought, O'Brien whistled. "You mean they might still be on DS9 after all?" "Indeed." Garak turned to Sisko, "Commander, may I suggest that you scan the station? If I am correct, you'll find one other Cardassian aboard." Sisko nodded. "Computer," he called out as he exited his office, "scan for Cardassian lifesigns." <<<Two lifesigns have been detected.>>> "Display locations." Dax went to the central display table on the main floor. "One here in Ops," she announced with a glance at Garak, "and," her voice rose excitedly, "the other is in the lower section of the central core." "Those are the ore storage and processing chambers on my station," Jules observed as he joined Dax at the display. "They were part of ore processing here too," Kira replied. "He'll be familiar with the layout." "Can you get a fix on them, Chief?" asked Sisko; O'Brien had stationed himself at the transporter controls. "No, sir. There're duranium composites in the works down there, not to mention uridium dust, and it's fouling up the sensors. I could try for the Cardassian, but I can barely pick up one other lifesign. If it's Julian, I wouldn't like to risk it." Sisko turned to Odo next. "Take a security team to find them and bring Dr. Bashir out." "Commander," Garak spoke again, "I would like to assist in the search." "No," Sisko shook his head. "It could be confusing if both you and your counterpart are there." Then he told Odo, "Your first priority is to locate and rescue Bashir, but under no circumstances allow Intendant Garak to escape. He's a threat to more than the doctor's safety. He may be one man alone, but a handful of _our_ people changed his world. He could do a lot of damage in ours. Capture him if you can, but use what- ever measures are necessary to ensure that he doesn't get off this station." Odo nodded grimly. "Understood." And he went to the lift. /~iii~/ He had not been raped yet. Although Intendant Garak never said so explicitly, the implication was that the promised assault would be delayed as long as he continued to provide information. And so, Julian talked. He answered questions about the Federation and its political structure. He described the key players in his universe that Intendant Garak was familiar with in his own--Cardassia, Bajor, the Klingon Empire. He did not, however, mention the wormhole, the Gamma Quadrant, the Dominion, nor the Founders; the Intendant knew nothing of them, and _that_ information was too dangerous for his captor to possess. When he stopped, too hoarse to go on, the Intendant asked, "Is that all, Bashir?" He nodded and waited for whatever would happen next. Garak brought out a small, cylindrical, silver flask and offered it to him. "Drink. It's called solen'zaa. You'll find it refreshing." Still wary, Julian took the flask and sipped experimentally. The liquid had a thick, honey-like texture and cloying sweet- ness--and, from the pleasant warmth that spread through him once it hit his stomach, a high alcohol content--but it did soothe his throat. "I told you I could be generous, to reward good behavior," the Intendant said as he restored the flask to his belt. "You see how pleasant things might be between us if you do what I want? You've been most informative, but I will need more if I am going to make a place for myself in your universe. Assist me, and greater rewards will be yours in future. Julian was appalled to realize that the Intendant was trying to be nice to him. Not looking for an excuse to brutalize this time; he wanted to win him over. "What does it matter to you?" he rasped. "As you're so fond of saying, you can force me." "True," Garak acknowledged. "But I would much rather you and I had a...congenial arrangement." He reached out to caress his prisoner's cheek; Julian shrank from the touch, and the corner of the Cardassian's mouth turned down. "I know that you're reluctant right now, but one way or another, you will submit. Conquest takes time. Why not give in now and save us both the trouble of a fight you'll lose in the end? "Think of it, Bashir: You're not a fool. You won't be content to mate yourself with your ambitionless tailor forever. I won't insist you promise--I know how much _that's_ worth, and I've had enough lies from my Bashirs." He grinned. "You should feel honored--I don't usually _ask_ Terrans for their cooperation. I've been remarkably patient with your insolence." "Don't think I'm not grateful," Julian answered, "but I'll have to decline." "I'm so sorry to hear that," the Intendant replied with an exaggerated note of regret. "Since you refuse, we'll have to-" He stopped at the sound of numerous bootheels clanging on metal. Julian hesitated before shouting for help; he was still not certain if they were on DS9 or Terek Nor, and didn't know who exactly was coming--rescuers or someone far worse than the Intendant? But, in that moment of indecision, his captor moved with startling swiftness, sweeping him up, through the open hatch, and into the horizontal duct. The next thing he knew, he lay flat on his back, pinned by the Cardassian; an elbow jabbed into his breastbone and a hand clamped over his mouth. The Intendant's eyes glinted a warning in the darkness as he pressed the muzzle of his disruptor to the side of Julian's head. They listened as the footsteps grew louder, headed their way, and Odo gave orders to his team to search all the rooms and secure the section. Once he was assured that they were not in immediate danger of discovery, Intendant Garak moved rapidly backwards down the duct, clasping his prisoner against himself and scraping Julian's bare arms, thighs, and backside on the gritty surface as he dragged him along. They stopped when they came to a juncture with a vertical access shaft. As he rearranged the torn and dirty blanket to cover himself, Julian looked up; innumerable curved rungs ascended as far as he could see. "When I was First Officer of Terek Nor, my duties frequently took me into ore processing," the Intendant told him. "I've hunted down dozens of Terran workers who tried to escape through these ducts--or, rather, the corresponding ducts on _my_ station. I loathed every second I spent here, but I learned a few tricks. This shaft extends through the central core of the station, and emerges on the service level beneath the Promenade. From there, we can cross over to the docking ring." He tucked his disruptor into his belt and urged Julian into the shaft with a swat to his exposed flank. "Up you go. Get moving." /~*~/ Reports came into Ops at intervals as the search team went from room to room in the abandoned ore-processing center on the lowest levels of DS9. The first clues were promising-- disturbed dust in an auxiliary chamber, an open hatch--but these came to nothing once it was determined that the Inten- dant had gone into the duranium-lined conduits that formed a maze through that part of the station; subsequent sensor sweeps confirmed that the second Cardassian lifesign could no longer be detected. The search went on through the morning, eventually moving up to the inhabited levels of the station. O'Brien and Kira soon joined them. Sisko retreated to his office to pace. Garak remained in Ops; the Starfleet and Bajoran crew were disturbed by his continued presence, but since Sisko had expressed a desire to keep him out of the way of potentially trigger-happy guards, and as long as he did not attempt to access sensitive information, no one asked him to leave. Although the tailor had placed himself near Lt. Dax's work-station so that he could follow the reports from the search teams as they investigated a series of systems failures and false security breaches in the habitat and docking rings, he was for the most part ignored. He didn't object; it gave him the opportunity to listen to the banter exchanged between the lieutenant and Julian's twin as the two tried to pass time during this tense situation. "It's weird being here," said Jules. "It's just like Terek Nor." His eyes swept Ops, taking in the interface panels, monitors and displays, until he encountered the tailor. "With another Ben Sisko, another Garak-" he met Garak's eyes for an instant, aware that the Cardassian was listening, "another Miles O'Brien. I wanted to come, to see what your universe was like." "Because of the things Benjamin told you about it when you served with him?" "That, and what Miles said after _he_ was here. And there's nothing for me to do on Terek Nor--no need for the kind of work I used to do." "I thought you said you worked for your O'Brien now?" "I'm supposed to 'assist' him, but he likes to do everything himself." This made Dax smile. "Not at all like our Chief." Jules gave her another Julian-like smile in return. "I don't think he knows what I'm there for either. He just wants me around. Most of the time, I sit over there-" He waved in the direction of the steps leading up to the commander's office- "and hand him coil spanners and plasma-flux thingummies. I was happy when he wanted to send me over--if he didn't, I would've asked to go." A voice came over the open frequency: "Commander, it's O'Brien. I've found something." Sisko must have received this message in his office as well, but he emerged to respond. "What is it, Chief?" "I've been following up on that security breach on Runabout Pad A." "Security investigated that," said Dax. "They found no sign of an intruder." The theory was that the Intendant had accessed the station's internal sensors to create these false alarms as a distraction. "Yeah, well, call it a hunch, but I wanted to have a look at the Orinoco. I checked the onboard transporter log--the last record was erased, but I've managed to recover most of it. According to the deleted record, two people beamed out of here barely half-an-hour ago. You ought to come down, Commander, and see this for yourself. Bring that other Bashir with you." "I'll be right there. Bashir, you're with me." Jules joined him on the turbolift. They went down to the runabout pad and onto the Orinoco, where O'Brien was waiting. "I can't make head or tail of these coordinates," the Chief began with a gesture at the display on the runabout's trans- porter console. "It looks like they used a double set of locators to send whoever beamed out almost back to this same spot. And there's residue from a plasma discharge I can't explain." He asked Jules, who had stepped forward to examine the console, "Is it-?" Jules nodded. "They look like the coordinates my Miles gave me to get home." He reached into a pocket of his jacket to bring out a small, flat, circular device like the one the other O'Brien had used when he'd abducted Sisko, Kira, and Dr. Bashir. Chief O'Brien raised his eyebrows, seriously intrigued. "That's some kind of plasma emitter?" "I guess," Jules said. "Miles told me that when I was ready to come back, I should wave this thing over the controls on one of your transporters, and put in these numbers-" he indicated a series of digits displayed on a miniscule panel, "and I'd transport back to our Operations Center." "Would Intendant Garak have a device like this?" asked Sisko. "He'd have to, to jump back and forth. If he got hold of the technical specs, he could've replicated one." "The coordinates aren't identical," O'Brien observed. "No, but it's close--Garak wouldn't go to our Operations, but he's definitely gone back to Terek Nor." "And taken Julian with him," the Chief added in dismay. Sisko let out a huff of breath, and said, "Then it looks like we're going back too." He turned to O'Brien: "Chief, while I'm gone, I want you to monitor for plasma discharges similar to the one you picked up here, or for any signs of unauthorized transport onto the station. Coordinate your efforts with Dax and Odo--I want Security ready to intercept Intendant Garak if he decides to return to DS9." "Yes, sir." As O'Brien left the runabout, Garak came in. The tailor must have followed them down from Ops and, Sisko suspected, had been eavesdropping just outside the hatch. His first words confirmed this impression: "Commander, I'm going with you." Sisko scowled. "Garak, you know how risky this could be for you. Both the Alliance and the Terran rebels are hunting for the Intendant--if they see _you_, they'll shoot on sight." Personally, he didn't care that much about Garak's safety, but he would not be responsible for sending the man into a situation where he might be killed unless there was a damned good reason for it. "I'm fully aware of the dangers," the tailor answered, "but I must insist." He spoke with a strange urgency; Sisko had noticed it in Garak's earlier requests to attend the staff meeting and to join the search. He didn't know what to make of it, but he couldn't help feeling that Garak must have some undisclosed reason for wanting to accompany him. "What are you up to, Garak? Why is this so important to you?" "I have an interest in the good doctor's welfare," Garak answered with more reserve. "I'd be very sorry to see him come to harm. I want to help. Is that really so impossible for you to believe?" No, Sisko conceded, it wasn't impossible. This wasn't the first time Garak had expressed concern for Bashir's well- being; in fact, after the doctor's initial encounter with the Intendant, Garak had been the one to bring the true extent of Bashir's trauma to his attention. "Garak, no," he repeated more gently. "I know you're worried about him--we all are--but the best thing you can do to help now is not get in the way. If you're with me, I'll have to worry more about protecting you than finding Dr. Bashir." The tailor smiled. "Commander, I couldn't agree with you more." Sisko was suspicious of this abrupt acquiescence, but he said, "You're free to move about the station, but you ought to stay where you can be seen--on the Promenade, your shop, Quark's-- just in case." Not only would it avoid confusion if Intendant Garak returned, but it would make it easy for Odo to keep an eye on him. With a small bow, Garak left the compartment. Sisko turned to Jules, who'd been observing the conversation with interest. "Let's go." /~iv~/ Using same coordinates the Intendant had entered, Sisko and Jules Bashir beamed over to the docking ring on Terek Nor. As they looked up and down the empty corridor, Sisko mused aloud, "Now, which way would he go?" "To one of the ports?" Jules guessed. "He wouldn't want to stay on the station longer than he'd have to." Then he stopped and said, "Someone's coming." Two human males charged around the curve of the corridor; they drew their weapons, then lowered them again. "Bashir," one said. "Captain..?" Both looked utterly baffled. Jules was immediately in charge of the situation. "Where's O'Brien?" he asked them. "Up in Operations." "Then why don't you take us up to him? We've got some news he'll want to hear." The guards, still perplexed, responded to this lightly phrased order by holstering their disruptors and escorting them to the nearest turbolift. They rode up to the station's command center, identical to Ops in its layout, although in more disarray than Sisko would have allowed on DS9. O'Brien stood over the central display table with a scowl on his face, and the woman at the communications console was speaking: "I'm having some trouble with all the signal noise, but I think I can focus-" Even before she turned her face to the rising lift, Sisko recognized her and held his breath. He'd known that this meeting was coming and had braced himself for it. O'Brien looked up. "Jules! And Commander Sisko? Glad to see you again, but- er- what-?" "Intendant Garak's kidnaped Dr. Bashir," Jules reported, "and he's brought him back over here." Sisko forced his attention away from this Jennifer to add, "We had hoped to catch up with them before the Intendant took the doctor off Terek Nor." "Too late," O'Brien answered bluntly. "Damn! And I _knew_ it was him!" "Something has happened here?" "Yeah, something's happened all right. One of our shuttles was just stolen. It was cloaked when it took off, but the station's defense net picked it up when it passed our peri- meter. From its direction, we think it was headed for Bajor. We've been trying to pick up the shuttle's signature." "Then you have a way to track them?" O'Brien nodded. "There's a tracking device planted on each of our ships. Jen designed it so they can detect each other and keep from colliding when they're flying cloaked in close formation--it doesn't work so well at long range, but it's what we've got." "There are thousands of transmitters on Bajor," Professor Bateson added. "I've been scanning the planet in longitudinal sections and focusing on a narrow range of frequencies, but it isn't easy to locate one specific signal in the midst of everything that's being broadcast. There's a lot to sort through." "You're concentrating your efforts on Bajor- ah- Professor?" "Yes, but..." she and Miles looked at each other. "He won't exactly be welcomed there," O'Brien finished. "If it's Intendant Garak in that shuttle, he might just as easily be planning to hide on one of the moons, or be taking a round- about path out of system to Prophets-know-where." "Do you want me to stop the scans?" Bateson asked. "No, go on looking on the planet, but I'll send a few ships out to look for that shuttle on the moons as well." "And if they've left the Bajoran system?" asked Sisko. O'Brien shook his head. "It'll be like hunting for a drop of rain in a thunderstorm." Then he added quickly, "but there's no reason to give up before we've had a look around. Your Bashir's not lost yet." He tried to sound encouraging, but he knew as well as anyone that if Intendant Garak had taken Bashir out of the system, they might never be able to trace them. While O'Brien launched the search vessels, Sisko watched Professor Bateson resume her scan of Bajor. His heart contracted at that familiar profile...the little frown of concentration...the impatient gesture as she brushed back a plait of hair that had fallen against her cheek. This wasn't _his_ Jennifer; he knew that. Another woman. A stranger. She couldn't know the emotions that the mere sight of her reawakened in him; she would be disturbed if she did. But as long as they were going to be working together, he would have to treat her like an ordinary woman, and not the image of his late wife. "So," he began, striving for normality, "Captain Sisko isn't here?" She nodded without taking her eyes from the display screen. "My Benjamin's out in the Sea of Wraiths with the fleet, but we're expecting him back any day now. He was sorry he didn't have a chance to talk to you the last time you were here." Sisko was just as glad they hadn't; he was relieved that, at least, he had been spared _that_ meeting. "He's preparing for another battle?" "They've been running raids on some of the colony worlds, but I don't know what his plans are. It's better that I don't. Benjamin doesn't like to stay on Terek Nor too long--it isn't wise to keep all of our key people here, and he'd rather be out in his ship anyway. He says this place has too many memories for him. Miles, on the other hand..." she glanced at O'Brien, "A year ago, he was a Theta mechanic in the ore- processing pits of this station, and now he's in charge of it." "And what about you? Why do you stay?" "I'm a scientist, not a soldier. I can be of more use here." Talking made it easier. This woman's brisk, no-nonsense attitude was very different from his Jennifer's coy playful- ness. "Bashir said that you were the one who set up the cloak around Terek Nor." "That's right. Being so close to Bajor has its advantages-- we can monitor their transmissions, I can do this kind of search--" She readjusted her scan to focus on another 'slice' of the planet. "But our proximity also places us at risk. If they knew our location, we'd be under constant attack. We use the thrusters to alter our orbit at intervals, but we're still very vulnerable. Fortunately, uprisings on Bajor have kept them too busy to hunt for us." "Uprisings?" Sisko echoed. "The Terran slaves are in revolt?" "They've been encouraged." She gave him a wry smile and repeated, "Being so close to Bajor has its advantages." Then the console beeped suddenly, and she cried out, "Miles! I've got it!" The others joined them at the console. "I've picked up the shuttle's signature. It is on Bajor," she reported, eyes darting over the scanner readings. "They've landed in the Kellarc Mountains, at the northern end of the Himur valley." "We've got people there," said O'Brien. "I'll send someone to investigate." "Can't _we_ go down to investigate?" asked Sisko. "If you don't mind, I'd like to lead the search myself." "Actually, I would mind. Our Ben Sisko's a wanted criminal on Bajor--I'd hate to see you arrested or killed mistaken for him." O'Brien gave him a look of sympathy. "I know how frustrating this must be for you, Commander. I promise we'll do everything we can for your doctor, but I have to think of our people first. If we go down there before we know what we're getting ourselves into, we could be risking our lives, not to mention the lives of our agents on Bajor--and there's no guarantee we'll even find Dr. Bashir." "I understand," Sisko answered. "But what you have to under- stand is that this is _my_ man who's missing. I have to think of him first. I can't just sit by and leave him with that maniac a minute longer than I have to." "I don't like the thought of it any more than you do," O'Brien began. "Then let me go after him--me, alone. I won't put anyone at risk except myself." O'Brien pulled in his lips thoughtfully as he considered Sisko's request, then he decided, "All right, Commander, you can go search for your doctor, but I want one of my people with you. Jules can-" He looked to Bashir, but Professor Bateson spoke first: "I'll go." "I can't let you do that," Sisko protested. She was the last person he wanted to place at risk. "It's foolish. It's too dangerous. _You're_ a wanted criminal on Bajor too." "True," she replied with an amused twitch of her lips. "We all are. And this is a foolish and dangerous thing to do, but if you're determined to do it, then Miles is right: you'll need whatever help you can get." Then she told O'Brien, "I'm better qualified for this mission than Jules is. I grew up in those mountains--I know my way around. I've been monitoring the activity in the mining camps there for weeks. And I know how to contact our people if we need them." "I'll let `em know you're coming," O'Brien answered. "You'll have to go as our Ben Sisko, Commander. One of our ships'll take you down." "What about the crew I had the last time? Sforzi and Whelan?" "They're off with the captain. Now, Jen's your guide. You do what you have to to get your doctor back, and we won't stand in your way, but otherwise you're to do as she says." As Professor Bateson headed for the lift, Sisko stood dumb- founded at having no authority over her or Miles O'Brien. This was _their_ station and, even though he had convinced them to let him search for Bashir, permission had been granted solely on their terms. Plus, the prospect of spending time alone with this other Jennifer was unsettling. Then she turned to smile at him. "Coming, Commander?" He knew that lilt in her voice; she was teasing him, just as his Jennifer used to. He followed her. "Habitat ring," Bateson ordered. "Where are we going?" "My quarters," she answered as the lift began to sink. "I don't care how much you look like my Benjamin, our people will suspect that something's wrong if they see you in that uniform." /~*~/ Jennifer ransacked the closets in the suite she shared with her Ben and emerged with an armload of clothing and a pair of heavy, leather boots for Sisko to change into. She also gave him a disruptor, and supplemented her own sidearm with a large and vicious-looking knife--"for the vines," she explained. "We may have to cross some rough woodlands." They went to the airlock where the shuttle O'Brien had called back to the station sat docked and waiting for them. The pilot looked surprised as his passengers climbed aboard. "Captain Sisko? I didn't know you'd come back." "I just arrived," the commander replied smoothly and took a seat. "Set a course for Bajor. The Kellarc Mountains." /~*~/ Sisko and Bateson had just disembarked from the station when a message came into the Operations Center. "Mr. O'Brien, this is Ogilvy in Security. We've got the Intendant! We found him sneaking around the docking ring. He surrendered right away, and we've put him in one of the holding cells. Do you want us to shoot him?" "He didn't have a Terran with him, did he?" O'Brien asked. "A boy who looks like Bashir?" "No, sir. He was alone." "Don't shoot him then. Bring him up here." He threw Jules a look of concern, and then paced impatiently until the lift rose into sight, bearing the Cardassian--who had been roughed up since his capture--closely flanked by two guards. "All right, Garak," O'Brien demanded, "where's Dr. Bashir?" "Believe me, I wish I knew." "You-" "Miles," Jules interrupted. "That's not the Intendant. It's Mr. Garak, from the other space station. He's one of the commander's people. He's all right." "I'm a friend of Dr. Bashir's," Garak added. "I've come to assist in his rescue in any way I can." O'Brien had not expected to find an ally in the Intendant's counterpart, but Jules's recommendation was enough for him to order the guards to "Let him go"; they released their prisoner reluctantly and continued to glare with suspicion as Garak stepped off the lift. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to seeing people like you and Major Kira working for Commander Sisko," the rebel leader said once the guards had been dis- missed. "You know, Cardassians aren't usually friends with Terrans in our world." "It's not commonplace in ours either." "You might've been better off staying there," O'Brien told him. "You're lucky you didn't get yourself killed, crossing over unannounced. A lot of the crew has hard feelings about the old Intendant." "Yes, so I presumed." Garak delicately touched the rising bruise just below one eye. "How'd you get here anyway?" "I transported immediately after Commander Sisko and your Bashir--there was enough plasma residue for a second cross- over." He looked around the Operations Center. "By the way, where is Commander Sisko?" "Gone to Bajor after your doctor--And, no, you can't!" O'Brien added before Garak could ask. "It's bad enough having _him_ running around down there. The Alliance is out for Intendant Garak's blood. If they find you, you're liable to wind up with your head hanging on the gate of the Supreme Visor's palace. I ought to send you right back to your own universe." Garak looked dismayed, but answered with the utmost deference, "I hope you won't, Mr. O'Brien. Even if I can't be of help, I would like to remain here and wait for news." "If you do, you'll be under my protection," O'Brien warned him. "You'll have to stay up here in Operations." The tailor nodded, accepting these conditions. "I give you my word, I won't be any trouble." /~*~/ After climbing to the top of the access shaft, the Intendant led Bashir through a series of conduits, occasionally prodding him with the muzzle of the disruptor to keep him under control. They stopped at access panels along the way, so that Intendant Garak could create sensor 'ghosts' to draw the security teams to other parts of DS9; these distractions enabled them to leave the protection of the ducts, cross into the docking ring, and enter the runabout pad without being detected. Once they were aboard the runabout, the Intendant attempted to use his override codes to open the bay doors, but found the station had been sealed off. Knowing that Security would come to investigate soon and having no other means of escape, he brought out a small hand-held device, tapped a series of coordinates into the onboard transporter console, and they crossed over to Terek Nor. There, stealing a shuttle proved more easy than taking a runabout from DS9; the Intendant vaporized the lone guard who intercepted them, then set a course for Bajor. Then, just before the shuttle breached the station's shields, he yanked Bashir up onto the emergency transporter. They materialized in a small, dimly lit chamber. Bashir looked around at the tangle of conduits that ran from floor to ceiling, the large, horizontal duct that crossed one wall, the shadows cast by the pale amber lights. "It's the same room!" Only the uridium dust that covered the floor was undisturbed. "Yes," the Intendant chuckled. "The last place they'll look." "But Security knew where we were on DS9," Julian reminded him. "They would've found us if you hadn't dragged me into the conduits." "Hmn...yes. I thought the duranium composites around us were sufficient to keep us undetected, but it seems I was in error. Well, I can take care of that." Opening the panel on the wall beside the door, he punched in a coded sequence. "A slight readjustment. It will cause a minor energy fluctuation, but these Terran slaves aren't used to operating this station's sophisticated sensor equipment--with a few exceptions." He scowled as he shut the panel. "They won't know to look for it. No one has any idea that we are on Terek Nor." "My people will figure it out eventually. They'll follow us..." he stopped when he realized that, if they did, they would follow the trail of the shuttle Garak had launched. The Intendant, seeing Bashir's look of dismay, smiled. "If they come, by the time it occurs to them to search this station, we will be gone." "Gone _where_?" Julian wondered. "You can't go back to DS9. They'll be watching for you. And you didn't go to Bajor when you had the chance-" He was caught off his guard when Intendant Garak struck him hard across the face and hissed, "You know it's impossible for me to return to any part of the Alliance! You've seen to that!" "No, I didn't know," Bashir answered once he had retreated to a corner, out of the Intendant's immediate reach. He sank down on his heels with one hand cupped over his stinging cheek, and began to put things together: Intendant Garak hadn't abandoned the shuttle purely to mislead the DS9 crew; he had not gone to Bajor because he couldn't. He had nowhere to go. "What happened? Did they banish you for losing this station?" The Intendant replied acidly, "After I was forced to abandon Terek Nor, certain information came to light, indicating that I had aided the Terran rebels. My unfortunate relationship with your counterpart was examined. It seems that I was so besotted with that miserable little whore that I gave him quite a lot of highly classified information on Terek Nor's defense systems to pass on to his friends in the rebellion--or so my personal computer records suggest. It sealed my fate. I was named a traitor." "I'm sorry," Julian said, and almost meant it, "but I had nothing to do with that. You can't blame me for whatever my counterpart did." "But I do. I know you didn't plant that false evidence, but if it hadn't been for you, I would never have taken that creature into my service in the first place. O'Brien and his spy would've had no opportunity to incriminate me, and I wouldn't be in this situation now." He advanced toward his prisoner. "So you see why it's imperative that I return to your universe. There's nothing for me here. Over there, there are possibilities." More pieces were put into place: This retreat must have been an enormous set-back for Intendant Garak. He was trapped here, beleaguered. Although he tried to sound as confident as usual, he didn't know what to do next. Julian leapt on that uncertainty. "And what about me?" he asked. "What about you?" "What are you going to do with me?" "Oh, I'm sure I'll find a use for you." The Intendant gave him that same menacing smile. "Aside from your delightful companionship, you will provide me with information once we return to your universe. Remember, I did say 'one way or another'." "You don't need _me_ for that. Everything I've told you, you could've gotten from any Federation computer. No." Julian shook his head. "I'm not worth all this trouble." He took a breath, and declared, "You'd be better off if you let me go." The Cardassian laughed. "How considerate of you to think of my welfare." "I'm thinking of myself," he answered honestly, "but it's in your best interests too. Don't you see? All your plans have been spoiled because of me. If you hadn't come to get me, you could've left DS9 this morning without being noticed. Anyone who saw you would've mistaken you for my Garak. It might've been days before we learned you were in our universe. You wouldn't be hunted now. You wouldn't have been forced back here. I can't help you--I've done nothing but hinder you at every step. Why do you want to keep me with you?" He wanted to sound reasonable--not like a wretched, dirty, emotionally and physically exhausted creature who would say anything to be set free--but after so many hours of captivity, waiting for the assault to begin, all of his suppressed fear and outrage was breaking through. "What is it you really want from me, Garak? My loyalty? My love? Someone to blame for your mistakes? If it's revenge you're after, why don't you just get it over with?" He could hear the hysteria creeping into his voice, and tried to bring it under control. "Whatever it is, will you throw away every chance you have for it? Leave the station. Leave me here. I'll find O'Brien to send me home. I won't tell him where you've gone, and my people won't bother to pursue you once I've been returned to them." For a moment, Julian was hopeful; the Intendant actually appeared to be considering his words--at least, his eyes had glittered with interest as he listened to this desperate plea. Then, "No, I don't think so. Even if my original plans have been thwarted, I do have other options." His confidence had returned; he had an idea. "Wh- what?" "You'll see. But first, we must wait..." He sank down facing the door, one hand on the disruptor in his belt. "Until it is safe." /~v~/ Once they were within transporter range, Bateson directed the pilot to beam them down to a relatively secure spot a few kilo- meters from the shuttle's signal. "The Bajoran guard run regular patrols through this area, due to increased rebel activity," she explained once they arrived on the planet. They stood in a culvert sheltered by a cluster of boulders; Jennifer climbed onto one of the rocks to scan the night landscape: The mountains around them were dotted by pin- point lights, and washed with the more diffuse glow of three rising moons. The narrow, deep cleft of the valley, cut by a glinting river with bright clusters of villages and encampments on both sides, lay below. "Our shuttle is in that direction --Let's go." They left the culvert and went down the steep slope to a foot- path. As they walked the rim of the valley, Sisko noticed the little smile his companion wore while she continued to look up and about her. He recalled what she'd said about knowing these mountains. "You grew up here." "Up there." She pointed to the white curve of an illuminated dome that appeared through the trees on one of the lower peaks ahead of them. "Himura Monastery. My mother was a hand-servant to the Vedek in charge. When she died, Vedek Anarad assumed responsibility for me, brought me up, saw to my education. I met my Benjamin there." "_He_ was a student at the monastery?" Sisko asked, astonished. "Oh, no," Jennifer answered. "Benjamin was a 'mine-grub'--one of the children they send to the tunnels too small for grown Terrans to work in." She sighed. "He was such a skinny little thing the first time I saw him... "I found him hiding in the monastery orchard. He'd run away from one of the camps in the valley and was looking for food, but it was too early in the year and there was no fruit on the trees. I brought him something to eat, hid him in a gardener's hut. When he was discovered by the monks, Vedek Anarad sent him right back to the mines. She explained to me that this boy was a Terran--a dirty, violent, irrational animal that had to be strictly controlled to keep it from becoming dangerous. "I asked her, 'But I am a Terran too--aren't I the same as this boy?' She told me that she hoped not, that I would prove to be different. "I saw then that no matter how kindly I was treated, the Bajorans considered me something less than themselves. I was an intelligent, well-trained animal--Vedek Anarad's proof that these Terran beasts could be house-broken." Another small smile. "What a disappointment I must be to her." She stopped as they crossed an exposed section of the path, then resumed her story when they were concealed again. "I saw Ben a few more times after I went to study at the Technical University at Tehlarin. He'd worked his way out of the mines, using his charm, good looks, that smile of his." She glanced at Sisko, dressed in her lover's clothes. "He was always involved in some kind of illegal activity, smuggling, petty scams, and he wanted me to leave the university and join him. I couldn't do it. The life he was leading then was not one I wanted to share. Maybe I was a second-class citizen among the Bajorans, but at least I was free. I was comfortable and safe. I knew how lucky I was--My Ben, Miles, Jules, any one of the rebels can tell you what it's like to be an ordinary Terran in the Alliance. I wasn't going to throw away every- thing I had for one handsome man. "Then, when he got his ship, became the Intendant's..." she shook her head. "I thought that was the end of it. I didn't see him again for years, until he came to tell me about the rebellion. I could see that this wasn't just another scheme of his. He was a different man. He was impassioned. For the first time, I believed he really cared for something besides himself, and he made _me_ think about more than my own comfort and safety too. "When we first met, Commander, I thought it was strange that you were nothing like _my_ Benjamin. You were so reserved, I wondered if there was anything you felt strongly about," she gave him another sidelong, speculative glance; he realized that she was fishing--not for information, but for a reaction from him. "It wasn't until you declared that you were going after your doctor in spite of the enormous risks that you reminded me of him. My Benjamin's like too. It scares the hell out of me whenever he does it, but I have to confess it's one of the things I admire most about him." "Is that why you volunteered for this mission?" Sisko asked. "In part," she admitted. "We all owe you, far too much, not to help you when you need it. But it's not just the rebellion that owes you. _I_ do, for both my own life and for Ben's." Then she said, "I know you didn't want me to come with you." "I didn't want to see you hurt," he answered guardedly. "No, I'm not the one you're thinking of." Then she asked the question he'd been dreading: "It's my counterpart, isn't it? You know her. Miles once said-" "She was my wife." He'd hoped that they wouldn't have this conversation, but now that it had come, he wanted to deal with it as swiftly as possible. "She died, five years ago." An awkward silence followed. Then, "I'm sorry, Commander. I didn't know." At the contrite expression on that familiar face, Sisko was immediately sorry that he'd been so brusque. "There was no way you could." "I should've guessed. The first time we met, you looked as if you were seeing a ghost. I suppose, in a way, you were. This must be very difficult for you." She lifted one hand to touch his face. "It was." He took her hand, squeezed her fingertips. "But I'm getting used to it." They had finally made the emotional connection he'd once hoped for, but he knew Professor Bateson well enough now to understand that it was not her--only what he remembered of his own Jennifer, and thought he saw in her-- that gave him pain. He let go of her hand and they walked on silently, side by side, until a humanoid figure stepped out onto the path before them. "Identify yourselves." "I'm Jennifer Bateson," the professor said, "and this is Ben Sisko." A bright light played over their faces. The sentry looked to another Terran, an older man who stood in the shadows of the overhanging trees; he nodded. "We're looking for a shuttle that was lost from the space station." "Captain Sisko," the older Terran stepped forward. "You might not remember me--I'm Russell Toddman. I was sent to assist miners who escaped the camps." Other ragged and grubby humans were emerging to stare at them and murmur their names. "We had a message from O'Brien, asking us to keep an eye out for you if you came our way. I can show you where your shuttle went down. We saw the crash." "Crash," Sisko echoed with apprehension. "Will you take us there?" "The Bajorans would've seen the crash too, and sent someone to investigate," Toddman answered. "We'll get you as close as we can. Come with us--there's a safer way through the woods." They left the path for the dark shelter of the trees. /~*~/ Ironic, Garak mused, that he should come so far to sit in Ops again and wait for news of Julian's whereabouts. At least, this room had been cleared of non-essential personnel and he was spared the hostility of O'Brien's rebel crew. The only people who remained were O'Brien himself and the other Bashir. He couldn't have picked a more incongruous pair of alternates to be held prisoner by. As hosts, they were unfailingly polite --in fact, this O'Brien had shown him more common courtesy than he'd ever received from the Chief--but they were adamant about not leaving him unattended. Both men kept him under discrete observation, and there had been several whispered conferences; Garak reminded himself that he really knew nothing about them, or what they thought of _him_. Although they looked like the humans he knew, they were not necessarily as harmless. He wondered how he was going to elude their protective custody. He would have to, sooner or later. Since he'd learned who had taken Julian, he'd been tormented by incessant thoughts of that vulnerable human body in the hands of another man. Another Garak;_that_ was the unendurable part. He knew, as no one else could, what his counterpart was doing with Julian. Loth as he was to admit it, he and Intendant Garak had a few things in common where Bashir was concerned. He knew how ruthless _he_ would be in obtaining the object of his desire if he had no consideration for that object's sensitivity. Such thoughts had sent him over here when his sense of self- preservation told him he was better off remaining on DS9. And they urged him to act now. He turned his attention from the uninformative image of Bajor's nightside on the large viewscreen overhead to O'Brien at the communications console, and asked, "Where do you think they've gone?" "I've been wondering about that myself," O'Brien admitted. "Why the Kellarcs? That province is mostly wilds. The only reason I can think of is the Intendant's gone into hiding there while he works out his plans." After considering the tailor for a moment, he left the console and came over. "Maybe it's small comfort to you, Mr. Garak, but I don't think he'll kill Dr. Bashir. And as long as Bashir's alive, there's hope." This sudden expression of sympathy left Garak rather puzzled. "I'm not saying your doctor's not in danger," O'Brien continued. "Our Garak can be as nasty and vindictive as any Cardassian-- er, sorry, any Cardassian in this universe--but he wants Bashir alive. He's taken too much trouble to get `m..." with a glance at Jules, seated a safe distance away, he lowered his voice, "if you see what I mean." Garak understood; this O'Brien knew as well as he did what the Intendant wanted with Bashir, but didn't want to upset him--or insult him?--by being more explicit. But Jules, who had been listening after all, put it bluntly: "Intendant Garak likes pretty Terran boys, and he's a little crazy about your doctor." O'Brien scowled. "Jules," he warned him. "Why can't I talk about it?" Jules protested. "It's not a secret--it's why you sent me here in the first place, Miles. Besides, I can tell Mr. Garak as much about the Intendant as you can. More. _I_ spent months living with him. I listened to him talk about the doctor hundreds of times." "I'm sure Mr. Garak doesn't want all the sordid details. You ought to forget `em yourself." Garak had the impression there was more going on between the two than he'd previously been aware of. But the squabble ended just as it began to be interesting, when a succession of beeps emitted from the communications console. O'Brien leapt down to the lower level. "It's from Hsia," he announced as he read the message on the screen. "The pilot who took your commander and Professor Bateson to Bajor. He's picked up a transmission from the Bajoran security network: They found the shuttle. Crashed." Garak joined him at the console. "Are there survivors?" O'Brien tapped in a coded question, and they waited for the response. "No prisoners taken," he said. "The Bajorans think the rebel Terrans aboard must've transported out before the crash. The whole Kellarc province is on security alert." "Those mountains must be swarming with search patrols," Jules murmured. "Hsia's got a fix on Jen and Commander Sisko," said O'Brien. "If the Bajorans come too close, he'll get 'em out. But they're safe enough 'til daylight. That might give `em time to find the doctor." "And how long is it until sunrise?" asked Garak. "Two hours, maybe three." O'Brien sighed. "If we don't hear from your commander by then, I'll send a team to Bajor, or go myself." "If you do, I would like to go with you," the tailor humbly requested. "We'll see," was the grudging reply. "Look, this could get rough. Why don't you get some rest while you can? Use my office." "We've got plenty of empty quarters around the station," Jules said before Garak could refuse O'Brien's offer. "Let me find a place for Mr. Garak--I'll escort him, see that he's safe." Garak knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, but he couldn't over- look this chance to get away from Ops--not to mention Jules' intriguing ploy to see him alone. "Thank you," he said. "I believe I could use a nap." /~vi~/ They were intercepted by another pair of guards on the way to the habitat ring; Garak was anticipating trouble, but his escort dismissed the pair coolly by saying, "This Cardassian is in my custody. If you have a problem with that, why don't you take it up with O'Brien?" His interest was further piqued when they arrived at a lush, Kardasi-style officer's suite. "These used to be Intendant Garak's quarters," Jules said, and went to the roqa-wood cabinet against the far wall while his amazed guest looked around the room. "I thought you'd be more comfortable here." He took out a decanter of pale blue kanar and filled a glass, then added exactly six drops of dark liquid from a small, crystal bottle. He offered it to Garak. Garak took a sip, and was delighted at the well-remembered flavor. Ilva spice-water! It was almost impossible to obtain outside of Cardassian space, and the synthetic version avail- able at Quark's was so insipid that he preferred to drink his kanar without it. Jules, watching for his reaction, grinned. "That's just the way the Intendant likes it too." Of course. As his counterpart's minion, this young man would be trained to perform such services. "Can I get you anything else?" Jules gestured to the replicator. "You haven't eaten all day." "No, dear boy, thank you." He noted that the young man seemed startled, but not unpleased, by the endearment. "You were going to tell me about you and Intendant Garak." It was the most plausible reason he could think of for Jules to lure him here. "I thought your Bashir told you all about _that_." Jules filled a second glass for himself. Garak was intrigued again; he'd offered Julian kanar on several occasions, but the doctor had never developed an appreciation for it. This Bashir was turning out to be quite fascinating. "Only a few details. I know that you were...installed here when my counterpart was in command of this station." "The 'eyes and ears' of the rebellion on Terek Nor--that's what Miles said when he recruited me." Jules sat down on the sofa and sipped his drink. "A lot went on right here in this room. Intendant Garak received dispatches, briefed his officers, sent reports to his superiors. Even when I wasn't allowed in here, I'd lie down in the bedroom and pretend to be asleep, and hear all kinds of important things. And I sent every word of it to Miles." "I'm more curious as to _why_ the Intendant wanted you," Garak prompted. "You said that he bore a personal grudge against Dr. Bashir." Jules nodded. "He always called your doctor 'that treacherous little whore'. He thought he'd betrayed him." "How?" "By getting away. My Garak could never forgive that. He had to have him back, but since he couldn't get _him_, he took me instead." He chuckled. "It didn't matter to him which Bashir he had, as long as he had one of us. But _I_ didn't run away-- not until it got too dangerous to stay here anymore. Maybe I'm not as smart as your doctor, but I know a thing or two about pleasing men. You're Cardassian, so you know how particular they are, but as long as I did what my Garak wanted, he could be kind. He gave me presents. He hardly ever smacked me around, and he never wanted me to service the other officers. He was very selfish about me." "It sounds quite cosy." Jules gave him a small smile. "Miles thinks he asked me to do something awful, but it really wasn't so bad. Much better than what I was used to before. If Intendant Garak had found me before the rebellion, I would've considered myself lucky to be chosen by him. But there _was_ a rebellion, and the Intendant was our enemy. I was sent here specially to bring him and his filthy Alliance down, and so I did it." "A professional attitude," the tailor said. He was beginning to like this young man. Jules Bashir lacked his Julian's naivete and irrepressible optimism--indeed, how could he have acquired them _here_?--but he had an unflinching practicality and self-interestedness that the doctor did not possess. While he understood why Julian was disturbed at seeing these qualities in his twin, Garak was charmed. "And when you took over Terek Nor," he asked, "these quarters became yours as a spoil of war?" "I asked Miles if I could have them. He didn't want them, and Captain Sisko and Professor Bateson got the other big suite, where the old Intendant Kira used to live. For the first time, I have something that's _mine_." He stretched his arms languidly along the back of the sofa. "All mine. I have these rooms, and a great big bed, all to myself." At this last remark, Garak wondered if he had misinterpreted Jules's reasons for bringing him here. Was that an invitation? "Don't you find it rather lonely?" he tested the premise. "Sometimes. But when someone gets in with me, it'll be someone _I_ want." "Your Mr. O'Brien seems very fond of you," Garak continued his circuitous approach. This made Jules laugh. "The crew think he fucks me already. That's why they let me get away with pushing them around--no one wants to get in trouble with him. But he's never touched me. If he did, at least I'd have some reason to be here, but Miles doesn't like to think of me that way." Jules lifted his eyes to Garak's from beneath lowered lashes--a flirtatious look the tailor had become familiar with in recent weeks. "What about you?" he asked. "You'd be welcome." It was a tempting offer. At another time, Garak might have found this appealing look-alike for his Bashir, trained in the arts of 'pleasing' a Cardassian, a more-than-adequate substitute, but it was a betrayal he couldn't commit--not now, while Julian was lost. "I'm afraid I can't," he answered with sincere regret. "You see, I'm in love with someone else." "Him?" The tailor nodded. "I thought so," said Jules. "_Nobody_ stays up all night talking about poetry." So, it had been obvious to him from the first. Perhaps it was only to be expected that the truth was perceived by the spy placed in his counterpart's bed--and, considering O'Brien's clumsy attempt at sympathy, by the man who had placed him there. Garak hoped he had not been as transparent to the crew of DS9. "It's funny, isn't it?" Jules went on. "Me and Intendant Garak. You and the doctor. It's the same on both sides." "Indeed," said Garak. "It speaks to Fate, doesn't it?" "Except that _he's_ always the lucky one." "I don't think Dr. Bashir would agree with you right now." Jules, chastened, looked very much like Julian. "I can see how worried you are about him," he said. "And you want to get revenge on Intendant Garak--I can see that too." "He has harmed my Bashir once before," Garak answered cautiously. "He can't be allowed to get away with it twice." He wouldn't tell Jules that, if the opportunity presented itself, he would wring the life out of the Intendant with his bare hands. They had shared some confidences, but this was not the time for complete candor. The boy obviously had conflicted feelings for the Intendant-- why seek _him_ out otherwise? Jules wanted something from him that his Garak had not provided, or perhaps what he thought his own counterpart had. No doubt _he_ had made a very dashing impression, crossing universes in quest of his missing lover, but he was not the romantic figure Jules imagined him to be. "Intendant Garak's not the only one who's selfish." Then Jules surprised the tailor again by asking, "You're going to kill him, aren't you?" When he received no answer, the young man's eyes flickered down. "I guess it's the only way. He has to be stopped." He set his empty glass on the floor and got up from the sofa. "I meant what I said: the doctor is the lucky one." After another hesitation, he placed a hand on Garak's chest and leaned closer. Garak let this Bashir kiss him. The mustache tickled. When they drew apart, he ventured, "I don't suppose you'd care to help me find him before the Bajorans do?" It seemed the perfect moment to ask. "In two or three hours, it may be too late. If I have you with me to deter the guards, we can borrow one of the shuttles, travel to Bajor-" "Garak, no, I can't do that." The young man sounded sincerely apologetic. "I told Miles I'd be responsible for you. You aren't allowed to leave." Abruptly, he raised his voice to order, "Computer: Security lock. Seal the door to my quarters --open to my voice command only." Then he told Garak, "I'd like to get some sleep. If you won't join me, you can have the bed in the servant's room. I won't have to stand watch over you, will I?" Frustrated as he was, Garak couldn't help but admire his escort's ruthless sense of duty. It looked as if he would be here for awhile--at least, until he found a way to breach the seal. With a sigh of resignation, he went to the liquor cabinet and took the liberty of refreshing his drink. "Would it have made a difference if I'd accepted your generous offer?" Jules laughed. "You can't be _that_ good." /~*~/ With Professor Bateson hacking a path through the underbrush and occasionally guiding Sisko by a light touch on his sleeve, they made their way through the forest. The moons' light barely penetrated the thick cover of leaves overhead; he only caught glimpses of their escorts, shadow-shapes moving in the darkness around him, but it seemed that their numbers were increasing, from a half-dozen to ten, to twenty and more--more than could be accounted for by Toddman's band of refugees. Had other rebel cells joined them? He asked Toddman, who acknowledged, "News spreads quickly in these mountains. These people have never seen the heroes of our rebellion before, and they only want to say they've served with you. Most of them are from the mining camps, Captain," he added confidentially. "They believe you've come to free the miners at last. It's what they were promised--why they stay here instead of taking refuge in the Sea of Wraiths." And why _he_ stayed as well, Toddman's tone implied. "We're only here to recover our people from the shuttle," Sisko told him. "So you say." Toddman didn't believe him. How then could he convince the scores that had joined him, expecting him to lead an assault? He heard their whispers, _sensed_ their excitement. He'd been the object of this enthusiasm before, when he'd appeared in the Badlands to quell the rumors of his counterpart's death. He'd led them to battle then and, like it or not, he was gathering an army now and headed toward...what goal? There was a break in the trees and the party advanced out onto a broad, downward-slanted clearing. The sky had grown lighter with the approach of dawn, and Sisko could see a column of black smoke rising from the valley head--smoke, he knew, from the plasma fire where the shuttle had crashed. Their forward escorts were half-way across the clearing, when disruptor shots were fired from the other side. Toddman was among those vaporized instantly, and a patrol of Bajoran guards charged out. Instead of retreating, the Terrans rushed to meet them, eager for this fight. Sisko was suddenly aware that Professor Bateson was no longer at his side. "Jennifer!" he whirled, heart thumping. No, not again; even if she wasn't his Jennifer, he couldn't go through this again- Hands emerged from a clump of blackthorn bushes, grabbed him, and pulled him in. A woman's voice--Bateson's, to his relief --hissed urgently, "Stay down, Commander. Don't let them see you. Hsia will get us out of here." They crouched together, disruptors drawn. Perhaps the Terrans thought they'd been killed, or perhaps they were outraged that their leader had been threatened: Sisko heard his own name shouted as a battle cry as the fight raged around them. Then, at last, they were engulfed by a transporter beam, and found themselves aboard a ship--not the tiny shuttle that had brought them here. The leader of the Terran rebellion stood before them, smiling gleefully. "Benjamin Sisko!" /~vii~/ "We were monitoring coded transmissions on our way to the station. When I heard that _I_ was on Bajor, I knew it had to be you!" the other Sisko said as he advanced on his twin, beaming with such ferocious enthusiasm that the commander braced himself for a hug. But Captain Sisko only clapped him on the shoulders and gave him a brisk little shake. "I sent Hsia away just so I could pick you up myself. What brings you to our universe?" As Sisko outlined the events that had brought him here, his counterpart nodded with ready sympathy. "I'll go with you," the captain declared. "We'll find your doctor. Besides, it'll give us a chance to talk. We never got to, the last time you were here." "Is it safe to transport back down?" Sisko asked Sforzi, who was manning the sensors. "The fight's moved on into the valley," Sforzi reported. "It looks like our people are driving the Bajorans back." "What about the crash site?" asked Bateson. "We weren't far from it when we were attacked. If the guard posted there has been drawn away to subdue the Terrans and left that area clear, we can make it our starting point." The shuttle had crashed on a thickly wooded slope, cutting a path of destruction through the trees and leaving a large burnt patch where it had landed. The nose had been smashed against the hillside, but the aft section remained partially intact. The trampled grass and the residue of foamy fire suppressants on the scorched trees indicated that the Bajoran guard had been here, but no one was in sight when the trio beamed down. There was enough light now for Commander Sisko to examine the wreckage--the twisted metal fragments, far-flung seat cushions, shattered control panels, tangled lengths of wire. No blood, he observed, and no indication that bodies had been removed. "They aren't here." He hoped for the best, that Bashir had escaped. Even if the doctor was Intendant Garak's prisoner or had been captured by the Bajorans, there was still a chance for his safe recovery. And if he were dead? No; Sisko refused to consider that possibility yet. "I'll see if I can find what's left of the emergency trans- porter," Professor Bateson offered. "It was at the back of the shuttle, and the log may have survived." The commander stood watch outside the ruined hull while she investigated within. Captain Sisko went to an outcropping at the edge of the burnt area and stood looking out. The battle had moved closer; sounds of disruptor fire, screams, and explosions could be heard from below. "Are they headed this way?" Commander Sisko raised his voice to ask. No answer. He left the wreckage to see for himself. "I haven't been on Bajor in a long, long time," the captain told him as he drew near. "But I've been thinking a lot about it lately. I got my start here, you know." "I've heard." Sisko followed his twin's gaze. There was some kind of factory or compound at the valley's bottom, crowded between the steep slopes and the river. It was difficult to discern exactly what was happening, but masses of people were swarming between the buildings. "_There_," said the captain with a grim smile of satisfaction. "The pergium mining camp. There are other camps all over this province, all over Bajor, but _this_ is the one I remember. The miners were ripe for revolt--They were only waiting for someone to show them they could do it. I wish I was there... Why don't we go down and join the fight before it's all over?" "We were looking for Dr. Bashir," the commander reminded him. "Besides, we don't want to get too close to the battle, not both of us." Hundreds of voices were shouting now; it sounded like a chant, but he couldn't make out the words. "What are they saying?" "'For the Emissary. In his name.'" He chuckled. "They've heard the old Bajoran legends of the one who would come to deliver the enslaved. We made sure they did." "You believe you're this Emissary?" asked Sisko. The other's focus abruptly shifted to him. "_You_ are, in your universe." "So they tell me." "'They'?" his counterpart pounced on the word. "The Bajorans." "And what about the Prophets?" Taking the commander's arm, he drew him closer and, in a lowered, confidential voice, asked, "They _are_ real, aren't they?" This was why Captain Sisko had been so eager to talk to him. Sisko had wondered before if his counterpart had actually been touched by the Prophets himself, or if his claim to being this universe's Emissary was based solely on Kira's somewhat biased descriptions of _his_ encounter with them. Now, he had the answer. "They're real enough," he replied. "_What_ they are, exactly, I don't know, but they exist." "Do they speak to you?" "They did, once." "They never speak to me," his counterpart admitted with a distinct note of envy. "I tell my people I have visions--It inspires them to believe. It keeps this rebellion going. But I've never received a real sign." "Maybe it just isn't time for your Prophets to contact you yet," Commander Sisko offered. "Maybe...but, sometimes, I think: what if there is only one set of Prophets? Not _mine_ or _yours_, but spanning all the universes? Gods can do that." Sisko saw where this was headed: One set of Prophets meant only one Emissary. One of them must be a pretender. Fortunately, Bateson emerged from the ruined shuttle at that moment, waving a small, battered piece of equipment overhead. "Found it!" she announced, and came to join them. "There's some damage to the log, Commander," she said as she handed the component to Sisko. "A lot of data's been lost, but it looks like at least one person transported out before the crash." "Coordinates?" She shook her head. "So, where do we go now?" "The central guards' complex for the Kellarc province is at Sha'rat," Bateson gave her advice. "If they've captured Dr. Bashir, they'll take him there for questioning. If they haven't found him or the Intendant yet, the reports on this shuttle crash and the search for survivors will be received there. With everything that's happening in this valley, they'll be seriously understaffed." Sisko nodded and turned to his counterpart. "If a few of your people can come with us, provide a distraction-" "No," the captain snapped back. He had been staring out at the battle, face growing more and more stormy by the second; now, as Commander Sisko spoke, he spun angrily on him. "You can't have them! You've done enough already." He jerked his head to indicate the continued chant of the rebels. "I'm not the one they're shouting for--They mean you, don't they? You were with them when this fight began. _You_ sent them off to tear down the mining camp." "They did this themselves, without my help," Sisko answered. His presence may have inspired them to act today, but they'd been ready for this battle. "Ben, what does it matter?" Jennifer tried to placate her lover. "The important thing is that it's _happening_. The mines are being liberated. This is what you've dreamed of for so long-" "It's _my_ rebellion," he answered. "My people. I'll lead them where I want to go." "Be my guest," Sisko answered. He was uncomfortable enough with his half-mad twin, but he wasn't going to put up with anything that impeded his search for Bashir. "I'm not here for your war. I'm on a rescue mission. If your people can help me by drawing the Bajorans' attention--good. Beyond that, you can give them any orders you damn well please. Go join your battle. _I'm_ going to Sha'rat, alone if I have to." "Not alone," said Professor Bateson. Captain Sisko was taken aback. "Jen?" "My mission here is to help Commander Sisko," she answered firmly. "Yours should be too." The captain glowered from one to other. "All right!" he boomed. "We'll settle this once and for all!" He whipped out a hand- held comm-device. "Sisko to Sforzi--Cath, transport us to Himura Monastery." "Benjamin!" Bateson protested. But they were already being transported. Sisko had a brief, fragmented impression of the bridge of the captain's ship, and then they stood in an enclosed garden amid rows of stunted, cultivated fruit trees in flower. Behind them, the walls of the monastery gleamed in the early-morning light. Professor Bateson looked around anxiously, as if she were afraid that they would encounter someone she knew. "We'll see which of us is in charge here," Captain Sisko told them. "If the Prophets have chosen one of us, I'm going to ask them which it is!" "Ask them?" In reply, he pointed to a small outbuilding at the upper end of the garden with an arched gateway similar to the entrance to the temple on DS9, and headed toward it. "Where is he going?" Sisko asked Bateson as they followed. "There's a famous artifact in the temple," she explained. "The monks use it in their meditations. It's supposed to have incredible powers--They say they can commune with the Prophets through it." "An Orb." "You know of it?" she sounded surprised. "I've seen others, in our universe." "It's not superstition, it is? He'll really be able to talk with the Prophets?" "Not talk," Sisko answered, "but he'll see something." Captain Sisko had stopped at the temple gate. "What are you two whispering about?" he demanded, and before either could answer, shouted, "It's not enough you want my people, you want my woman!" "Ben, you're being ridiculous," said Bateson. "There's no reason for this kind of competition." She threw the commander an apologetic glance before she ran to catch up. But Sisko understood his counterpart better than she realized. This was more than competition. The rebel leader had built his mystique on a borrowed foundation. Perhaps _he_ misrepresented himself as much when he played the role of Emissary for his own Bajor, but at least the wormhole aliens had contacted _him_. This Benjamin Sisko didn't have that sanction, and he needed it to believe that he had truly been chosen to free his people-- not only to bolster this rebellion, but perhaps for the sake his sanity as well? What would happen if the Orb told him his claim was false? Or that his rival was the usurper? The captain blasted the lock off the temple door, and kicked it open. "You can't have my gods too!" He strode up to the ornamental case set above the altar, and flung open its doors. Sisko had had his own Orb experience, but he'd never seen one as an impartial observer; the other Ben Sisko was engulfed in a light so bright that it seemed to dissolve him. Bateson leapt forward to intercede, but the commander took her arm to hold her back. The experience only lasted a few seconds. When the light from the Orb receded, Captain Sisko stood where he had been. Slowly, he reached out again and shut the case. "Ben?" Jennifer spoke tentatively. He turned to them with a sudden, flashing grin--Sisko wondered if _he_ looked that manic when he smiled. "It's all right, Jennifer. I see the truth now. I know what I have to do." /~*~/ "Bashir." Julian jerked into wakefulness. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but after lying on the floor in this dimly lit room for uncalculated hours under the Cardassian's silent gaze, his weariness had finally won out. He found the Intendant, seated by the door, flask of solen'zaa in his hand. "Is it time to go?" "Almost," his captor answered. "You'll be happy to hear that I've been thinking things over and I've decided to take your advice. I'm going to leave you, just for awhile so that I can attend to a few other matters without encumbrance. I'll take you someplace a little more commodious. You can clean yourself up--you're beginning to stink, and I've never been able to abide the smell of human sweat. We'll get you out of that filthy rag." There was a certain suggestiveness to this that made Julian clutch his blanket protectively. "But before we go, I want another piece of information from you. I've been trying to remember... When you and Major Kira first intruded into this universe, you did not have access to a transporter. You were discovered in a small passenger vessel near the Denorios Belt." "Yes," said Bashir, wary at this new line of questioning. "How did you get there?" He didn't answer. "I seem to recall that, when you were first brought to Terek Nor, you spoke of...a wormhole?" The Intendant watched his prisoner closely. "A connector between the two universes?" Bashir still refused to answer, but Garak must have seen some- thing in his expression, for he smiled. "Lying little Terran. I should have expected more of your deceit. Tell me--Did your Federation create this gateway to invade our world?" Julian shook his head. Garak tucked the flask of solen'zaa into his belt, rose, and crossed the small room to stand over his prisoner. "I think a visit to the Denorios Belt is in order." "The wormhole won't take you back to our world," Bashir told him; he was reluctant to speak at all, but he had to try and dissuade the Intendant from this exploration. "Major Kira and I came here by accident." Unless Intendant Garak duplicated the plasma leak that had brought them here that first time, the Cardassian would travel to the mirror-Gamma Quadrant. And find...what? A benevolent Dominion? Friendly Vorta and docile Jem'Hadar? He lied: "It isn't stable. We can't always predict where it will take us. You could wind up anywhere in this universe, or in ours." "I think I'll take my chances," the Intendant replied. "Besides, what better way is there? Your people are undoubtedly monitoring for transporter activity aboard your station and they will be ready to intercept us the minute we return. But they won't be guarding this wormhole, will they?" "They'll notice when a ship comes through." "A cloaked ship? Surely, it will appear as an anomaly, unrelated to the incidents of this morning. And, as you have so helpfully pointed out, I can be far away from your station before I'm discovered." Abruptly, Intendant Garak reached down to yank Bashir to his feet. "It's time. Computer: Intendant's pre- rogative, override code 66073-Green. Lock on to my coordinates. Prepare site-to-site transport for two. Engage." Bashir struggled against the arms that held him pinned, even as the transporter beam surrounded them. They materialized at the foot of the bed in the Intendant's old quarters. *Here again*, Julian thought with a now-familiar pang of sickened dread. The room was dark, and a single person lay asleep on the bed. At the glimmering light of the transporter beam, this person awoke and whirled up, startled, bringing a disrupter out from beneath his pillow to aim at the intruders. It was his own twin. Keeping his weapon trained on them, Jules shouted: "Garak!" It wasn't until he heard a soft footfall at the doorway that Julian realized his counterpart was not expressing surprise, but was summoning help. /~viii~/ The Intendant turned swiftly, then smiled when he saw that his counterpart was unarmed. "Ah, Garak the tailor," he spoke with amusement. "I hoped we would have the chance to meet--Your Bashir speaks so highly of you." He indicated Julian, whom he held as a shield before himself, by waving the disruptor under his chin. "I'm not surprised that you've come all this way to rescue him." "I've heard a lot about you as well," Garak replied. Relieved as he was to see Julian alive, they were not out of danger yet. "I hope you won't disappoint my expectations. If you're as reasonable as any Elim Garak ought to be, you'll release Dr. Bashir before this becomes...unpleasant." "But why should I? You have _that_ one-" he tilted his head toward Jules, who kept his weapon on them, ready to shoot. "It's a fair exchange. One Terran whore is just like any other, and there's no difference between these two. Deceitful, treacherous little pieces, the pair of them. Take my word for it, you're better off without him--_I_ certainly wouldn't be in this position if we'd never met. And yet, it is hard to give him up, isn't it?" One hand moved slowly over the bare side of Julian's chest; Julian went rigid at the touch, and his captor chuckled. "A tragic weakness, one I suspect we share. After all, we have so much in common." "Perhaps," said the tailor, "but there is one important difference between us: You've been successful up until now. You've never been humbled. You've haven't had to learn from your failures. You don't even realize that you've lost." "Lost?" the Intendant echoed cynically. "I've alerted Mr. O'Brien," Garak informed him. "The shields have been raised all over the station and a security team is on its way. If I were you, I wouldn't insist on fighting a futile battle when a strategic retreat is the wiser course of action." "You're saying that you'll let me leave here quietly?" "I'm offering you a chance. Surrender the doctor right now, and the Terrans may be merciful. You might survive. But," Garak's voice, which had been cool and courteous, now took on a note of menace, "if the doctor is harmed, I can guarantee you will not. I'll see to that myself." The Intendant's smile broadened at this threat. "I don't doubt your sincerity, Tailor. Believe me, I understand exactly how you feel, seeing your property in someone else's possession." His hand slid down Bashir's chest, moving over the slender torso in a suggestive caress until he reached the groin; he took a fistful of blanket, and began to gather it up. Julian's eyes, fixed on his lover's, were wildly pleading, desperate. "But, as much as you'd enjoy wringing my neck right now, you won't. "I'm not going to surrender to the Terrans' mercy--They have far more reasons to want my death than you can imagine. No, I have a better idea. I was hoping your Bashir might be useful in convincing O'Brien to allow me to leave Terek Nor unmolested, but I think you'll be more tractable. Who knows when O'Brien's revolutionary sentiments will overcome his personal affections? _You_, on the other hand, will spare my life as long as it safe- guards his." A flick of his fingers brought a faint, strangled sound from the doctor. "What is you want?" the tailor snapped, his veneer of composure breaking--not just at seeing Julian being handled so callously, nor at his own helplessness, but at the humiliation of being manipulated by a stratagem he once might have used himself. "Before I give you Bashir," the Intendant answered, "why don't you give me that suit you're wearing?" Whatever demands Garak had anticipated, this was not among them. "I beg your pardon?" "Let's just say I've taken a fancy to it. I suppose it's one of your own designs?" "Yes, it is," Garak answered, mind working as he unfastened the tunic's hidden clasps. "But if you're intending to leave Terek Nor in my place, surely you realize that you won't get very far." He tossed the garment to the foot of the bed. "The Terrans will be as eager to fire on a Garak wearing red as one in black." Julian bucked suddenly in the Intendant's grip. "Elim-" he tried to warn him, before he was cut off at a sharp jab from the disruptor. "True," the Intendant acknowledged. "It may be difficult to leave the station in the usual way, but consider this scenario: When the guards arrive, they'll find the remains of one dead Cardassian, and one living one, anxious to return to his own universe. O'Brien will personally escort me to the transporter. And, over there, a humble tailor won't draw much attention." "It has some potential," Garak conceded. "I'm so glad you approve." He turned the disruptor toward Garak--away from Bashir. The doctor drove one elbow back into the vulnerable spot just below the Cardassian's breastplate, and his hand chopped down on the Intendant's wrist; the disruptor went off, searing the carpet centimeters from Garak's feet. As the arm around him loosened, Julian twisted to land another blow on the sensitive nerve cluster just below his captor's ear. Once his twin was free, Jules fired. The Intendant hit the floor. Julian fell on him so swiftly that Garak was first afraid he had also been hit, but the doctor was thumping furiously with both fists, shouting in incoherent rage; he went on until Garak took him by the forearms and gently drew him up. "There's no need to be sloppy about it," the tailor said in an equally gentle voice. "One swift blow in the right place will suffice. Or one shot." He picked up the Intendant's disruptor. "I will gladly do it for you--unless, of course, you'd rather..." he turned the weapon's handle toward Julian, acknowledging that _he_ had more right to do this. Julian stared at him blankly, as if he had to let the words sink in. "He was going to kill you," he said. "I-" Then he sobbed, "Oh god, Elim, I practically _told_ him..." Garak put both arms around him. "Ssh, my love. It's all right. It's over." Revenge was set aside as more urgent matters claimed his attention. "My dear," to Jules, who had climbed off the bed and was pulling on his robe, "will you please summon Mr. O'Brien?" "But you said the guards were already on their way..." the young man's look of confusion cleared. "Oh." "I'm afraid there wasn't time," Garak answered. "Under the circumstances, I thought a lie would be more prudent." Against his shoulder, Julian let out a small, half-choked laugh; Garak patted his back. "Tell him we've captured the Intendant, and that the doctor is safe." /~*~/ They returned to the ship against Commander Sisko's protests. The Orb was in its cabinet on the floor beside the captain's chair, and the captain sat, staring fixedly out at the star- field before him as they circled Bajor. Bateson stood at the back of the bridge, watching him; Commander Sisko gathered from her troubled expression that his twin's pensiveness was unusual. The crew were waiting patiently for orders, but Sisko was determined not to be dragged along on whatever escapade this madman intended. Taking matters into his own hands, he gave the command: "Mr. Whelan, take the captain and Professor Bateson to Terek Nor, and then we're coming back-" "No," said the captain. Whelan didn't glance back, but his hands hovered over the control panel. "Where are we going, Ben?" Jennifer nudged gently. "To the temple." "But we just left the monastery." "No, not the monastery... The Temple of the Prophets. The Celestial Temple." She frowned, puzzled. "And where is that?" "I don't know," her lover admitted. Fist supporting his chin, he continued to gaze at the stars. "But it's out there..." He whirled on Commander Sisko. "_You_ know, don't you?" "I don't know what you're talking about," Sisko answered stonily. The captain chuckled. "Don't you?" "Captain," Sforzi interrupted, "there's a voice message coming from Terek Nor. It's O'Brien--he wants to know if we can get a message to Commander Sisko." Sisko went to the communications station; Sforzi flipped a switch on the comm-panel so they could speak. "I'm here, O'Brien. What is it?" "Commander? Come back to the station. Bashir's not on Bajor. He's here on Terek Nor. Intendant Garak too--We got `im." "I'll be there right away. Sisko out." Then he told the captain: "We're going to Terek Nor." "The Temple," the other Ben insisted. "First, tell me where it is, _then_ we'll go back to the station." Sisko had had enough of this. He spun the captain's chair around and leaned forward to put both hands on the arms. "You can go hunting for your visions any time-" and he was caught completely off guard when Captain Sisko swung a fist and punched him squarely in the jaw; the force of the blow sent him sprawling on the deck, but he was up again immediately as his counterpart sprang forward. As they crashed against the transporter console, Sforzi and Whelan leapt from their chairs, and Jennifer shouted, "Ben! Commander! Stop it!" but none of them dared to intervene. The captain grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back. "_You_ don't belong here!" he roared. "You're an aberration!" Another shove. "A false messenger for _my_ Prophets--You want to keep me from them!" Though Sisko landed several hard blows, they did not deter his outraged opponent. He was fighting a man far beyond reason. There was only way he was going to win. He took the disruptor tucked into his belt, and smashed the butt against the side of his twin's head. It wasn't enough to knock the other Sisko out, but it left him dazed and allowed Commander Sisko to push him off and throw one good punch. Once his opponent lay flat on the deck, he sat on his chest and pointed the disruptor at his face. "First," he said, "you're taking me back to the station." /~*~/ Once the ship was within Terek Nor's cloak, Sisko beamed over to the habitat ring. By the time he reached Bashir's quarters, the Intendant had been taken away and the guards had gone with him. Only O'Brien and Jules remained in the sitting room--the latter on the sofa in an elaborately patterned, oversized robe, and the former pacing furiously. "-'escort 'm to empty quarters,' you said. So how the hell did he wind up in _yours_?" "Jealous, Miles?" O'Brien gaped, flushed red, then looked relieved as Sisko came in. "Where's Dr. Bashir?" Sisko asked immediately. "In the bedroom. Your Garak's looking after him." "_My_ Garak?" "He said he came over to help-" But Sisko was already headed for the bedroom. He was about to shout, to demand Garak explain what he was doing here--and then, from the doorway, he glimpsed the two in the dimly lit room: Garak, seated at the foot of the bed, cradling the grime-covered, blanket-clad doctor and speaking in a strangely soft, crooning tone, as if he were comforting a child who'd just awakened from a nightmare. Sisko understood now why Garak had been so anxious to recover Bashir. Then Bashir looked up, saw him, and scrambled off of Garak's lap. "Er- Commander-" Under the circumstances, Sisko decided to overlook the awkward situation. "Are you all right, Doctor?" "Minor injuries, sir," the doctor reported. Flustered and embarrassed, he tugged his blanket into order, and stood a little straighter, transforming from frightened child to proper, if bedraggled, young officer. "I've been banged up a bit, and I'm a mess, but I wasn't- er- I was telling- ah- Garak-" he glanced at the tailor, who still sat on the bed behind him, watching Sisko with an unreadable expression, "I wasn't sexually assaulted. The Intendant never got around to it." /~*~/ When Bashir went into the bathroom to clean up, Garak went with him. "Let's get you out of that filthy rag." He reached for Julian to help him out of the blanket, but stopped when the doctor's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry--Perhaps you would rather I leave you to do this by yourself?" But Bashir rallied swiftly. "No, Elim. It's all right," he insisted. "Don't you think I know the difference?" Taking the tailor's hand, he lifted it to his face to brush the knuckles against his unshorn, sooty, tear-streaked cheek, then led it to the knot that held the make-shift garment in place. With Julian's hand still over his, Garak tugged the knot loose; the blanket dropped to the floor, and Bashir stepped backwards toward the shower. "Want to join me? I wouldn't ask the man who held me captive for twenty hours to soap me up, but _you_ are welcome to." Garak thought that this was meant to be a joke. Although Julian had made light of his injuries, now that he stood naked, Garak could see the raw expanses of scraped flesh and every alarmingly purple bruise; he was in no condition for any kind of physical contact. "I don't think I'd better," he responded in kind. "We'd never get out again, and Commander Sisko is waiting." The doctor smiled, then grew solemn as they met each other's eyes. By silent, mutual agreement, they decided not to discuss _that_. Neither had any idea what Sisko intended to do about their relationship. He climbed into the shower, but before he turned the water on, there was knock at the door; Julian stuck his head out of the cubicle as Garak went to answer it. Jules, now dressed, came in with a bundle of clothing. "I thought you could use something to wear. Don't worry--it's not a cat-suit." "Thanks," Julian said coolly as Garak took the bundle. His twin replied with one word--"Lucky"--and went out again. The tailor turned to lay the clothes out on the sink counter, and found Julian still at the open shower door, regarding him with curiosity. "Elim?" he asked. "You are planning to tell me what you're doing in _his_ quarters, aren't you?" /~*~/ Sisko and O'Brien remained in the sitting room. "I should be getting up to Operations, Commander," said O'Brien. "Now our captain's back, he'll want to know what's been going on. Jules can escort you up when you and your people are ready to go." He headed for the door, when Sisko stopped him. "Mr. O'Brien, wait. Before you go, there's something you and I have to discuss." Since his first visit to this alternate universe, Sisko had pondered certain questions. Some of these had been answered today, but one remained: These Terran rebels were a pragmatic people; they didn't waste their time on frivolous activities, and they were almost ruthless about doing whatever was necessary to get what they needed. In the midst of a war for their freedom, why had the key scientist and strategist of the rebellion spent so much time and effort on designing a universe-crossing transporter when more crucial matters must demand their attention? "You told me that you were working on the transporter to bridge our universes so that you could send your refugees to someplace safe," he began. "But that isn't the reason, is it? What is it you're really after? Technology? Weapons?" O'Brien stared at him, speechless for a moment, then answered frankly: "We were after whatever could help us win this fight." "And what about Bashir? He's been your spy before." "We sent him to warn you about the Intendant, but he's also pretty good at remembering what he sees and hears. I thought that if he happened to see anything we could use, he'd bring back information about it. And, I was hoping Jules might be able convince you to help us out. You've been sympathetic to our cause before." O'Brien went on eagerly: "When I was at your station, there was a small warship--I was sorry I didn't have the time to get its specifications. With a ship like that, we could smash the Alliance fleet and have our victory in a matter of months-" "No," Sisko stopped him. "I can't do that. It's expressly against the principles of my Federation to interfere in the development of other civilizations. I've bent that rule, participated in your rebellion, for my own personal reasons, but giving you technical information is another matter." Bashir emerged then in his borrowed clothes, Garak protectively at his shoulder. Both looked as if they were braced for an explosion from Sisko, but he simply told them, "All right, gentlemen--Let's go home." /~*~/ Captain Sisko had not gone in search of the wormhole, but instead returned to the station; he stood with his crew and Professor Bateson around the central display table as the commander and his party arrived in the Operations Center. Ignoring the Cardassian and the doctor, he cast a glowering glance at his own twin, then spoke to O'Brien: "Smiley! Come see what I've got!" He stepped aside to reveal the cabinet on the table. "It's a holy Orb, taken from the Bajoran temple at Himura. Through it, I can commune directly with the Prophets. I've gazed into its depths already--It's shown me things you won't believe." O'Brien met Bateson's worried gaze as he asked, "What did this Orb show you?" The captain flashed that dangerous smile again. "What it is the Prophets want. A Bajor free of tyranny and the misery of the enslaved. An end to the Alliance! We've come very far in doing their work, but we haven't gone far enough. We need to strike a fatal blow against our oppressors. It's time to begin. We're going to invade Bajor." >From his counterpart's words during their fight, Commander Sisko inferred that this other Benjamin's encounter with the Orb had assured him of the sanction of his Prophets, but _this_ seemed to fit a little too conveniently with the captain's own personal agenda. The expressions of others around the room-- especially Jules's archly raised eyebrows--told him he was not the only one to think so. O'Brien, however, was nodding thoughtfully. "We could do it. With the fleet to back us, Terek Nor is in a good position for an all-out attack." "Our people are fighting in the Kellarcs," Bateson added reluctantly. "If they're to succeed, we have to give them our immediate support." "All the signs have been there!" Captain Sisko crowed. "You two are always telling me that Terek Nor is too vulnerable. The fleet captains tell me that we have the power to launch a full planetary raid. And today, the miners are in revolt! What more do we need? The Prophets have only confirmed that we are on the right path! Once we have Bajor, Cardassia is next! We'll cut a swath of worlds between here and Earth!" He turned to O'Brien. "Smiley, send these people back where they came from--I've got a lot of work for you." "Right, sir." As O'Brien and Jules escorted them to the transporter, Com- mander Sisko asked in an undertone, "Surely you don't believe that the Prophets told him to attack Bajor?" "No," O'Brien admitted. "But that doesn't mean it's not a good idea. Bajor is right at our feet--it's best we eliminate that threat before they eliminate _us_. And it'll make a good base for future strikes." "I thought your goal was to return the Terrans to Earth?" "It is," he shrugged, "but we have to start somewhere, don't we? Our homeworld's hundreds of light-years away and, besides, all of it was our Empire a century ago." "You'll let us go?" It had occurred to Sisko that they might be held hostage for Federation technology. These _were_ ruthless people, and he knew how useful that technology would be to them now. O'Brien understood. "Do you think we'd keep you here, after all you've done for us?" He sounded offended. "It'd be damned ungrateful. Besides, I get the feeling our Captain wants you gone as soon as possible." Both men looked to the center of the room, where Captain Sisko had already dismissed his alternate from his attention and was expounding enthusiastically on his plans for Bajor to his bewildered but stalwartly loyal crew. Professor Bateson glanced in their direction; Sisko nodded his farewell to her in return. "We'll stay out of your universe from now on," he agreed. "No more interference. But, Mr. O'Brien, I want it understood--no more visits to _our_ universe." "Understood," but O'Brien's face was inscrutable; Sisko couldn't tell if this was a promise he meant to keep. "What about Intendant Garak?" asked Julian. "What will happen to him?" "We've got him in a cell in Security for now. He'll be put on trial for his crimes against the Terran people, and then we'll execute 'm." Both Bashir and Sisko were shocked at this casual announcement. "Isn't that rather extreme?" the doctor asked. "You can say that, after everything he's put you through?" O'Brien responded. "You know he and Intendant Kira were responsible for a lot of deaths on this station--it'd only be fitting if he died the way most of 'em did, right on the Promenade." Garak murmured, "I should have killed him myself when I had the chance." He would've been mercifully quick about it. After O'Brien saw them up onto the transporter platform, he went down to the control console. Jules lingered. "It'll be all right," he told them softly. "Captain Sisko's mind is on bigger matters, and I can convince Miles to delay the execution. I'll get him to place Intendant Garak in my custody." At their amazement, he added, "I won't hurt him-- but he can give us lots of information about the Alliance. And maybe I can teach him a few things too." He smiled. "It'll give me something to do." Then the transporter engaged, and they were beamed out. /~end~/ Kathryn Ramage kramage@erols.com /~*~//~*~//~*~//~*~//~*~//~*~//~*~//~*~//~*~//~*~//~*~/ Run mad as often as you chuse; but do not faint... Jane Austen, "Love and Freindship" (Her spelling)