ODO LOOKED UP from his desk to see the chief of the operations come into the security office. "Chief O'Brien. Major Kira said you were looking for me a little while ago."
"I was, yes. Um, Constable, this may be a little far-fetched, but I think I've been running into some more of your anomalies."
Odo was immediately attentive. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you remember when we first found those security sensors fixed down in docking pylon six? The alarm bypassed on that airlock? And how I said at the time, Here's someone who knows what he's doing? Probably a technician? Now, lately, someone seems to be fixing things all over the Promenade. And doing a bloody good job of it, too. Now, I've been doing a little checking, a little asking around, you know?"
"Yes? And?"
"Well, I think that Ferengi boy Nog is involved somehow. I know, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but people are saying that he's involved in a repair business somewhere on the station. He picks up equipment and brings it back—working better than ever. Now, if there was someone on this place who could do that, I'd know about it. Unless—"
"Unless it's somehow connected with our deserter," Odo completed the thought.
"Most of this is Cardassian equipment," O'Brien added.
"Thank you, Chief," Odo said briskly. "I think you might have something. Let's try to find out." He turned to his console. "Computer, connect me with Gul Marak on the Swift Striker."
A Cardassian face appeared on his screen. "Gul Marak can't talk to you now, he's busy."
"I'll just bet he is," muttered O'Brien under his breath, recalling the cheerless expressions of the Cardassians as they were being released back onto their ship. If he'd been one of them, he wouldn't have liked to be going back to face Gul Marak's temper, not by a long way.
But Odo addressed the screen. "I'm chief of DS-Nine security, calling with regard to the matter of the Cardassian deserter."
"I'll … see if the Gul has a moment," said the face on the screen.
A moment later, he was seeing Gul Marak's image. "You have him? You've got him under arrest?"
"I have a lead. A possible lead."
"You called me out of … you called me because you have a lead?"
"Gul, I was told you wanted progress on this case. Well, I'll be able to make more progress if I have information. Now, just what was this deserter's function on board your ship? Did he have any particular technical skills?"
"Berat? He was a maintenance scrag. The lowest grade. He scrubbed the floors, he mopped out the heads."
"Then he wouldn't be especially skilled at systems operations, maintenance, repairs? We have reason to believe our suspect may be a technician."
Reluctantly, Marak admitted, "I suppose you could call him a technician. He previously served on the systems-operation staff of one of our space stations. But he was demoted for gross neglect of duty and incompetence."
"I see. It would be helpful if I could see his personnel file."
"I already told Sisko, those records are restricted information!"
"That's unfortunate. However, even with this limited amount of information we may be able to make some progress."
"Just make sure you catch him," the Gul snarled, and cut the connection.
Odo exhaled. "You know, hard as it might be to believe, at times like this I really miss Gul Dukat. He was treachery to the bone, but at least you could carry on a conversation with him."
Miles O'Brien stared at the empty screen. "Actually, I don't find it hard to believe at all."
"Back again, Chief?"
"Just for a couple of minutes, Quark. Long enough to put away another one of those Irish ales!"
"Well, coming right up, then!" Quark said cheerfully, going to the synthesizer. "One Irish ale for Chief O'Brien!"
The operations chief swallowed deeply. "This is the real thing, all right! Tell me, Quark, what is it? Did you have a new synthesizer installed?"
"Now, don't tell me you're planning to start up your own business, are you, Chief? I can hardly give away all my secrets to the competition!"
"I suppose not. Well, whatever you did, I like the results." He took another, smaller drink. "Um, I don't suppose Nog has been around?"
Quark's small eyes shifted slightly to glance around the room. "Uh, no, I don't think so. I'll have to have a talk with that boy, running all over the Promenade the way he does."
"Mm," O'Brien answered, lifting his glass. He turned his attention to the glass, and Quark moved away to importune another customer. O'Brien sipped his drink slowly, taking his time, glancing around the casino. The place was starting to fill up now, as duty shifts let off and people were looking for entertainment. Quark was soon too busy at the tables to pay much notice to him watching quietly at the bar.
Sure enough, he spotted Nog, coming out of a back room—a small, furtive figure. O'Brien stood up from his seat. "Say, Nog!" he called out, but the boy stiffened slightly, then turned and headed back the way he had come.
O'Brien went after him, winding his way past the crowds gathered at the gaming tables.
Nog had only left the back corridor a few minutes ago, but now he came slipping back inside, looking around as if someone might be following him. He failed to notice that one of the crates in the hall hadn't been there before.
The crate, in fact, was Constable Odo, who had been making his own inquiries on the Promenade and come to the same conclusion as O'Brien, that the Ferengi were involved in the mysterious repair of equipment around the station. Odo's disapproval of the Ferengi was no secret, and he had never quite reconciled himself to Commander Sisko's plan to retain Quark on the station. Odo himself would have packed the gambler and all his relatives into the first freighter heading out of Bajoran space.
The secret rooms Quark had hidden beneath the holosuites were a long-standing annoyance. No one, in Odo's opinion, needed such privacy unless they meant to evade the notice of the law. Now, finally, he had the excuse he had always wanted to find out just what was going on back here.
Quark's secret rooms were well hidden, but Odo wasn't discouraged. There had to be some kind of ventilation, and that meant there was a way inside for Odo, who could slip through the slightest crack or fissure. He had just been about to probe the walls when Nog came back in from the main room of the casino.
The Ferengi boy looked behind him again, visibly nervous and, in Odo's eyes, guilty. Then he slid up to the seemingly blank wall, looked around one more time, and pressed his palm to a certain panel. As the door slid open, he called out softly, "Berat! Cardassian!"
That was all Odo needed to hear. In mere instants his body had flowed and re-formed into his usual humanoid shape to follow Nog into the room. There, he announced to the startled Cardassian seated at a worktable: "You're under arrest for unauthorized entry onto this station!"
At the sight of the constable, Berat reacted violently, snatched up his phaser with one hand and with the other grabbed Nog by the collar and dragged the boy, kicking and squealing in terror, across the table. Pressing his weapon to Nog's head, he held him as a shield in front of him, warning, "I'll kill him before I let you take me back there!"
Odo hesitated, recognizing the level of desperation in the fugitive's voice. Armed and dangerous, Gul Marak had called him, and right now it looked like Marak was right. Nog was hissing and squealing in real pain at the grip on his throat. He might be a Ferengi and a cheat and a thief, but he didn't deserve to be killed this way, and by all known accounts, this Cardassian was a killer. Odo knew he was going to have to time his move very carefully.
Berat was moving away from him, holding his struggling hostage, backing up to the wall, edging in the direction of the door. Odo moved to block his way, but just then Berat suddenly gave Nog a powerful shove in his direction. Odo staggered off balance with the boy clutching his legs and screeching in fear.
Berat ran past them, out into the corridor, looking around wildly for a way to escape. After days closed into that single room, he wasn't exactly sure where he was, how to get out of here. There was noise and laughter echoing in the corridor, a few good-hearted oaths: Frakk it! Red again! I just can't win tonight!
He was in the casino, just behind it. That was the only way out.
Berat headed for the door, but just then a man in Starfleet uniform came into the corridor, started on seeing him, brought up his hand to reach for some kind of weapon—or was it a weapon? Berat had no time to wait and find out. The man was in his way, blocking his escape, his only chance.
He fired the phaser.
The Starfleet man crumpled and fell, and Berat ran over the inert body, out into the main room of the casino. He stumbled, half-blinded by the bright, flashing lights. So crowded in here, the noise, so many people. Those lights, they hurt his eyes. Where was the way out? The door? People were yelling at him, crowding in his direction, but he aimed the phaser, and the customers parted, got quickly out of his way.
Berat ran for the door.
It took a few moments for Odo to untangle himself from the shrieking Nog. He ran out into the hallway just in time to see O'Brien crumple and fall to the floor and the Cardassian escaping into the casino. He chased after him, shouting at his comm badge: "Security and medical to the Promenade! Emergency! Quark's Place! Fugitive is armed and dangerous!"
Berat ran for the door, out into the open main level of the Promenade, but the station's alarms were blaring now, and the people were running from him, they were screaming. A security officer materialized just in front of him, another one off to his left, both of them armed. Phasers aimed at him. Berat spun around, disoriented, isolated in the center of the Promenade, the two-tiered walls closing him in, the size of the crowd. Too many of them. No one close enough to grab to use as a hostage this time.
A voice shouted, "Halt! Throw down your weapon!"
Berat's breath was coming hard. They had him surrounded. Trapped. No way to escape. Nowhere to run.
His hand tightened on his phaser. Never. They'd never take him. Not alive.
It had finally come to this. To his last, most desperate option. The only choice he had left.
He raised the phaser slowly. With his thumb, he flipped the setting higher, to the lethal range. Held it against the side of his own head, to his temple. Someone cried "No!" but it was too late. Too late. No other way out, now. He closed his eyes.
Pressed the trigger. The shock struck with a jolt that ran through his whole nervous system, then faded instantly into dark. He let go of his last breath. Then no more feeling, nothing.
Odo ran up, pushing his way through the crowd as the security people tried to get them to disperse. He halted at the sight of the Cardassian's inert body lying on the deck. A woman in Starfleet security uniform was kneeling over him, compressing his chest in an effort to induce breathing.
She looked up at Odo. "I tried to stun him, but I think I was too late. He fired that thing. On lethal."
Odo shuddered, hating weapons. These species were all so fragile, died so easily.
He hit his comm badge. "Medical to the Promenade! Emergency! Hurry!"