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)