THE FIRST PLACE Sisko went after leaving his office was to Miles O'Brien's quarters.
"Is he all right?" he asked Keiko when the door opened.
"Dr. Bashir said he should rest."
"Commander? Is that you?" O'Brien's voice called from inside.
"Please come in," Keiko invited, but there was a slight reluctance in her voice.
"I won't stay long. I promise not to disturb him."
O'Brien reclined in a chair with his feet propped up on a footstool and a blanket over him. He sat up eagerly as Sisko came into the room, then caught himself with a slight wince. "Ouch! Just a twinge. Hit my head when I fell. It's good to see you, Commander. Will you have some tea?"
Sisko inhaled the aromatic steam coming from the pot on the table next to O'Brien. His own headache was still throbbing slightly. "Thank you, I think I will."
Keiko brought him a cup and poured. Sisko took a sip of the hot liquid. "Ah. That's good!"
O'Brien took a drink from his own cup. "It's herbal. Keiko says it has healing properties." From something in his tone, Sisko suspected his head of operations might have preferred the healing properties of a cold synthale, but he said nothing. The tea was very good.
"I'm glad to see you weren't seriously hurt."
"No. Just stunned. Bashir tuned me right back up."
Keiko murmured, "I don't know what he thought he was doing, chasing after a criminal that way, not even armed."
"I'm curious about that, too. What made you think you could find the deserter at Quark's, of all places?"
O'Brien gave a small laugh. "Well, you see, it was funny, really. All of a sudden, everything started working right, all over the Promenade. Somebody was fixing things. Then I remembered, when the stowaway first came onto the station, how it had to be somebody who knew how the systems around here worked. So I asked around, and I found out that it was the Ferengi behind the repair racket. Word was out that if it was broken, they could get it fixed—for the right price, of course."
"Of course," Sisko agreed dryly, knowing the Ferengi quite well.
"It was that boy Nog who seemed to be the link. He was the one who picked up the stuff and brought it back, fixed. So, I tracked him down in the casino, saw him go through a back door, followed him …" A rueful grin spread across his face. " … right into the Cardassian. I didn't have a chance."
Keiko added darkly, "He was lucky he wasn't killed They say the Cardassian is a murderer."
"We are all glad your husband is safe," Sisko said sincerely. He put down his empty cup. He would have liked more of the tea, but he didn't want to impose on Keiko's hospitality or interfere with O'Brien's needed rest. "But one thing does puzzle me. I've had a chance to see this Cardassian's personnel file. According to it, he'd been demoted for gross incompetence. He'd been on report a dozen times for poor workmanship, among other things."
O'Brien shook his head gravely. "If that's so, Commander, then I'd say it can't be the same man. Whoever did those repairs was a first-rate technician. I tell you, I wouldn't mind having him working for me!"
Sisko raised his brows. "Working with a Cardassian?" He was aware of O'Brien's history, knew that he'd been a witness to the massacre on Setlik III.
But O'Brien looked thoughtful. "The Cardies built this station. We look down on their technology sometimes, I know, but—I've thought about this—maybe we just aren't used to the way they do things. Maybe they might have something to show us about how to run this place." He paused. "Of course, it's too late, now. I guess you'll be turning him over to Gul Marak."
Sisko stood up to leave. "I'm going to see about that right now. You be sure to get that rest." He thanked Keiko for the tea.
On the way to the infirmary, Sisko asked the computer to redisplay the Cardassian deserter's personnel file on his padd. The file was an almost unbroken record of punishments for a wide variety of offenses: incompetence, sloppy work, failure to follow procedures, failure to complete work on time, insubordination—that one appeared over and over again. Either this Berat was the worst crew member in the history of the Cardassian space force, or Jake's story had some basis in fact and the man was being persecuted for some reason deserving of asylum. A political refugee instead of a murderer.
It would have been a lot simpler the other way. The thought made Sisko feel slightly ashamed of himself, but it was true. It would be a lot easier just to turn the deserter over to Gul Marak and forget about him. He had shot O'Brien, after all. Probably committed other crimes while he was hiding on the station, theft the least of them. Sabotage, certainly. Murderer or not, he had certainly proved he was capable of violence. And he was a Cardassian.
A political refugee, he told himself firmly. You have to give him asylum.
If that's what he really is.
There was no one else with Dr. Bashir in his clinic office. "I understand Chief O'Brien will be all right?" Sisko asked.
"He should be fine. The stun knocked him out, but scan showed no permanent damage."
"And the Cardassian?"
Bashir looked grave and switched the monitor to show a figure lying motionless on a biobed, held down by a restraining field. "Not so well. His phaser was set to kill. Fortunately, the beam was deflected, but you have to factor in the damage caused by the stun beam. There may be permanent neurological impairment. Of course, this is a Cardassian. Their resistance is higher than ours is. There was less actual bur damage than there would have been in a human, I think."
Sisko raised his eyebrows. "Restraints? Is he conscious?" He didn't look conscious.
Bashir seemed uncomfortable. "It was necessary. He became violent when he came to. He almost got an edged instrument away from one of the technicians. She was a Bajoran. Things got … hard to handle."
Sisko could imagine it.
"So can he be questioned?"
"You can ask. Whether he'll answer you is something else. He hasn't been exactly responsive to me. I've tried to get him to talk to me, but"—he gestured at the patient in his restraints—"you can see the consequences."
Sisko shot him a grave look. "You're a doctor, Lieutenant, not an interrogator. And be glad you're not. I'm going in to see him now."
"There's a guard stationed by the door, in case things get out of hand … again."
Sisko looked at Bashir again. "Thank you, Doctor. I'll try to remember that."
The guard straightened up slightly when he saw the commander. He was one of the security reinforcements sent from Starfleet, not a Bajoran, which Sisko thought was probably a good idea. Under the circumstances.
"How's the prisoner?"
The guard glanced inside the cubicle. "Quiet, sir. Right now."
"Hmm." Sisko stepped inside. The Cardassian lay staring straight up at the ceiling. He gave almost no sign of reacting to someone entering the room, not even moving his eyes. But Sisko could see the muscles in his forearms tensing against the energy restraints that held them to the sides of the biobed and the movement of his chest as his rate of breathing increased.
Yes, the prisoner was conscious and very much aware of his surroundings. He knew he was a prisoner.
Taking a breath, he said, "I'm Benjamin Sisko, in command of this station. I believe your name is Berat."
Berat said nothing. His stare stayed fixed on the ceiling panel above his head.
"I understand you've spoken to my son, Jake."
Now Berat did blink. His eyes shifted briefly to look in Sisko's direction. The resemblance between father and son was clear enough. "So. That was how they found me."
Firmly, "No, that was not how they found you. Jake only came to me after he'd learned of your arrest. His judgment might have been at fault, but not his honor. He told no one about you. He kept his word."
Now that he had Berat's attention, Sisko drove on to the main issue. "Mr. Berat, Gul Marak claims that you're a deserter from the Swift Striker. He wants you returned to face an extensive list of charges, including murder. Now, according to my son, these charges may be politically motivated."
Berat's gaze had returned to the ceiling.
Sisko tried again. "Federation policy does not allow interference in the internal affairs of other worlds. No matter how savage or unjustified their penalties may seem to us. On the other hand, the Federation does recognize claims for asylum. Do you understand me?"
For the first time, Berat turned his head so that he faced his interrogator directly. Sisko suddenly realized how young this Cardassian was and how hopeless his situation must have seemed.
"Asylum?"
"Mr. Berat, I've seen your official personnel file. According to it, you're barely competent to function at the lowest grade of technician. But my chief of operations claims that your technical skills are superior. According to Gul Marak, you're a murderer. My son tells me a different story. Now, which is it?"
Berat exhaled. Now he seemed to be anxious for Sisko to believe him. "My father was a cabinet minister. In the previous government. He favored the peace treaty with the Federation, the pullout from Bajor. But then, when the wormhole was discovered, the Revanche party … said they were traitors. My father was hanged. My uncles—most of my family … all hanged. I couldn't be charged along with them, I was only an engineer, had never been in Bajoran space. But they wanted to get rid of us all. They stripped my rank. Sent me to Marak's ship, under Marak's orders."
"You don't deny that you killed a man?"
"I didn't know he was dead. But they—Halek—meant to kill me. All along. When he hit me, I knew …" He took a breath, started over. "To strike a superior officer is a hanging offense. No matter what the provocation … how often … It was only a matter of time. I …" He stopped, frustrated, unable to express his thoughts coherently.
But Sisko said, "I see. Mr. Berat, do you request Federation asylum?"
Berat blinked rapidly. There was a look of dazed disbelief on his face. Was that all there was to it? "I … yes. I do."
"Then I'm inclined to grant it."
"You won't … send me back there?"
"No. You'll be safe here." Sisko looked down at the restraints. "Now, if I remove these, are you going to attempt any more acts of violence—against yourself or the personnel of this station?"
Berat mutely shook his head, and Sisko deactivated the restraining field. The Cardassian sat up slowly, with a visible effort.
Sisko went on. "Dr. Bashir tells me that you may still have neurological damage from the phaser effects. So I'm confining you here in the infirmary. Do you understand? There'll still be a guard at your door. I've granted you asylum, but not the freedom to roam around this station. This is as much for your protection as anything else. I don't expect that Gul Marak is going to be pleased when he learns what I've just done."
Apprehension clouded Berat's expression. "No, I don't think so, either."
Just then Kira's voice came through Sisko's comm badge. "Commander, the Cardassian deck patrol is here to take custody of the prisoner. Should I send them down to the infirmary?"
Hearing it, Berat tensed visibly and looked around the room as if he were seeking a way to escape.
But Sisko said, "No, Major. Tell them to go back to their ship. I've granted the prisoner asylum."
"Asylum? To a Cardassian murderer?"
A line appeared between Sisko's brows. "Do you have a problem with that, Major Kira?"
"I—"
Sisko's voice took on an ironic tone. "If you meant to turn the deserter over to Gul Marak, Major, you certainly had the opportunity to do so, before he requested asylum. I believe you were the one to insist on correct procedures and full identification."
There was a pause. Then Kira's voice, flat and expressionless: "I'll inform the Cardassians."