Star Trek - The Next Generation - Double Helix Vectors

Chapter One

TEROK NOR. Its name was as dark as its corridors. He
actually found himself seeking the light, but carefully.
Oh, so carefully. Sometimes his cloak malfunctioned,
and he was seen. Partially, like a heat shimmer across
desert sand, or an electronic memory buried in an old
computer. But he was seen.
    He didn't dare make that mistake here. The Gener-
al didn't tolerate mistakes from his agents.
    He stood in the shadows just to the left of the main
entrance to a place called Quark's Bar. The area the
Ferengi bartender had called the Promenade lay be-
fore him, turning away to the right, bending with the
shape of the station design. The walls were gray, the
floors gray, everything was gray. The Cardassians had
made no effort to decorate this place. Even the bar
seemed dismal.
 He shuddered and drew his cape around his body.
He was glad he wouldn't have to stay here too long.
This Terok Nor reminded him of his prison cell. He
had lost too many years of his life there. He had
spent too much time staring at gray metal walls,
dreaming of escape. The metal walls, the ringing
sound of boots against hard surfaces, the stench of
fear--impossible to hide, even though the Cardassi-
ans kept their Bajoran prisoners separate from the
rest of the populationapermeated the place. If he
shut his eyes, his other senses would find nothing to
distinguish Terok Nor from that hideous cell, from
that prison he had finally left. The prison had
changed him--made him bitter, made him wiser,
made him more careful.  Oh, so careful.
    Two Cardassian guards walked the wide passage.
Their gray skin matched the depressing decor. The
only thing that seemed wrong to him was the heat. By
rights this station should have been as cold as its
walls, but it wasn't. The heat was thick and nearly
unbearable. He didn't know how anyone could stand
being here for long. The heat also accentuated the
smells: the processed air, the unwashed bodies, the
Rokassa juice wafting out from the bar. The sensa-
tions were almost too much for him.
    He reminded himself that Terok Nor was the per-
fect testing ground. Two races, living in close prox-
imity, with others coming and going. Their petty
differences didn't matter. That one race kept the other
prisoner, that one made the other labor in uridium
processing were merely details. The important factor
was much larger.
  Terok Nor was the perfect testing ground for the
General. A closed system, for the most part. But any-
one entering the systemmor departing the system~
would leave a record. A trail he could follow, should
he so choose.
 He didn't choose at the moment.
Now he was most interested in Terok Nor itself.
To his right in the bar, crowds of uridium freighter
pilots and crews shouted and laughed, the sounds
echoing off the high ceilings. A few moments before,
he'd been in there sitting at the bar, watching.
  Waiting.
    Trying to stay cool and block out the uridium smell
with the odor of one of the pilots' Gamzian wine. But
it hadn't helped, and besides, he couldn't see that well
or hear that clearly with his cloak on.
    A clang from the far end of the Promenade caught
his attention. One of the Cardassian guards had
dropped his phaser pistol, then grabbed the wall as if
for support. The other guard bent over him, then
glanced from side to side, as if worried that a Bajoran
might see and take advantage.
    He was too far away to hear their words. The first
guard shrugged the other off. The second guard
picked up the pistol and spoke on his communicator.
Two guards who had apparently been patrolling just
out of his line of sight ran toward the far end of the
Promenade.
    The first guard put an arm around the second, who
again shrugged him off. The second tried to stand,
and nearly collapsed. The first guard supported him,
and together they walked along the walls, keeping as
far out of sight as possible.
    He felt excitement flash through him, and he
tamped it down. He couldn't let his emotions inter-
fere with his observations. This might be nothing. It
was a bit early to see results. He hadn't expected
anything so soon.
    The guards passed him. He had to press himself
against the gray metal so that they wouldn't brush
him. They weren't conversing, although he wished
they would. He wanted to know exactly what had
happened.
 He needed to know.
    He had moved to follow the guards, but the Prome-
nade gave him no cover. So he remained in the
shadows.
    He would wait here, in the heat and the stench, just
as he had done in his cell. He was good at waiting,
especially when he knew it would end. And it would
end.
  Soon he would get his answer.

Chapter Two

"I TELL YOU, BARTENDER," the drunk Cardassian
freighter pilot was saying, none too softly, "someone
has been sniffing my Gamzian wine."
    "You don't sniff Gamzian wine," Quark said for the
eighteenth time. He loaded up another tray, carefully
balancing the Saurian brandy bottle in the center so
that Rom wouldn't drop the whole thing. As if train-
ing his brother weren't enough of a headache, Quark
had a bar full of pilots and crew--mostly Cardassian,
all of them drunk, and none of them more annoying
than the pilot at the very edge of the bar, nearest the
door. He had been complaining about hearing sniffing
sounds, which, Quark had to admit, he had thought
he had heard too. But they had been coming from an
empty chair beside the pilot. They were probably an
acoustical trick, caused by loud voices and even
louder laughter, not to mention--
    A crash echoed through the bar, and all the noise
stopped as everyone looked at the table closest to the
Dabo game. Quark couldn't see what was going on,
but he knew. He knew even before his brother Rom
pushed his way out of a group of Cardassians, looking
like a misbehaving child trying to find his way past a
group of annoyed grownups. Rom was bowing and
apologizing and moving quicker than Quark had ever
seen him move.
    Rom darted behind the bar, just as a Cardassian
stood, drenched in Romulan ale. The blue liquid
coated his neck ridges, making him look as if some
fanciful person had decided that he needed a spot of
color.
  "Ferengi!" he barked.
    Rom was cringing behind the bar, clinging to
Quark's legs. Quark kicked him off.
  "It wasn't my fault, brother," Rom said.
  "Sure looks like it to me," Quark said.
    Rom peeked over the bar, then ducked quickly,
narrowly missing the tray Quark had just filled. The
Cardassian was heading toward them. He looked
bigger than most Cardassians, if that was possible,
and meaner too.
Quark shook his leg, but Rom wouldn't let go.
The Cardassian shoved two patrons aside as he
reached the bar. "You!" he said, grabbing Quark's
collar and lifting him against the bar itself. Rom was
still clinging to his leg, and Quark felt as if he were
being stretched so hard that he might actually snap.
  "Me?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.
     "You!" The Cardassian pulled harder. Quark shook
 his foot desperately. They were going to break some-
thing or worse--he'd be tall as a Bajoran when they
were done.
    "Me?" Quark said again, still shaking that foot.
Rom was like a tube grub.
    "You!" the Cardassian said, and yanked. Quark's
foot slipped through Rom's grasp, and he overbal-
anced the Cardassian, who fell backwards, pulling
Quark with him. Quark grabbed at the bar, then a
customer, then a table to catch his balance. Instead,
he bounced on the Cardassian's chest.
    The man smelled so fiercely of Romulan ale that
Quark nearly sneezed. He apologized and rolled off
the Cardassian, resisting the urge to scramble behind
the bar as Rom had done. Quark had learned, in his
years on Terok Nor, that the best way to handle
Cardassians--usualty--was to act as if their most
unreasonable behavior were normal.
    He braced himself on a chair, got to his feet, and
tugged his shirt in place. The Romulan ale smell had
followed him, and he resisted the urge to glance down.
Once that stuff was on someone's clothing, it never
came off. He didn't want to add a ruined shirt to
Rom's list of errors this night.
    "Much as I enjoyed our game," Quark said to the
Cardassian, "I must get back to work. Is there any-
thing I can get you?"
    The Cardassian held a hand to his head. Quark
couldn't tell if that was because the man had hit it or
because the liquor he had consumed was finally
making itself felt.
    "Get me the Ferengi weasel whom you use as a
serving wench."
"Wench?" Quark heard Rom's voice from behind
the bar. This was the wrong time for Rom to take
offense, at anything.
    "You must mean my brother," Quark said, trying to
think of a way to placate the Cardassian. "He's filling
in tonight. He has never worked in a bar before--"
    "That's obvious," someone said from behind
Quark.
    "-so if he's offended you in some way, let me
make it up to you. I could refill your ale, or give you a
half hour in one of my holosuites, or find someone to
clean and press your uniform--"
    "I want the Ferengi," the Cardassian said. He was
sitting up on one elbow, his face prayer than Quark
had ever seen Cardassian skin look.
      Quark glanced at the bar. Rom would pay for this.
All of it. The entire day. The entire week.  
"I'm a Ferengi," Quark said.
    "I'm not blind," the Cardassian said. "I want the
other one!"
    Quark closed his eyes for a moment. He would
never get into the Divine Treasury. Never. Certainly
not with Rom on Terok Nor.
  "He's behind the bar," Quark whispered.
  "What?" the Cardassian said.
    "Behind. The. Bar." Quark opened his eyes. His
eleven-year-old nephew Nog was watching him from
the stairs, the boy's round face filled with a mixture of
sadness and anger.
    The Cardassian got to his feet. "You, you, and
you," he said pointing to three other Cardassians. He
certainly wasn't big on names. "Get that little maggot
out here."
    Quark held up his hands. "I really don't approve of
bloodshed in my bar."
"I am not interested in blood," the Cardassian said.
The three Cardassian crewmen pulled Rom out
from behind the bar. He was kicking, shaking his
head, and apologizing all at the same time.
    "Hold him there." The Cardassian pointed at the
chair Quark was standing near. Quark took a few
steps back, sneaking another glance at Nog.
    The bar was silent except for Rom's protests. Nog
mouthed, Help him, to Quark, who promptly turned
away.
    The Cardassians did as they were bid, placing Rom
on the chair. Their ale-covered leader grabbed the
Saurian brandy off the tray.
    "Wait! Wait!" Quark said. "That's rare and pre-
cious and--"
    The Cardassian was staring at him, the stench of
Romulan ale coming off him in waves. "And?"
    Quark bowed slightly so the Cardassian couldn't
see his expression. "And I hope you enjoy it very
much."
    "I will." The Cardassian uncorked the brandy and
poured it slowly, lovingly, over Rom's head. A roar of
laughter went up in the bar, and then all the other
Cardassians piled forward to pour their drinks on
Rom.
    Quark scuttled through the crowd and made it back
to the relative safety behind the bar. He used a napkin
to mop the ale off his shirt, and winced as another
roar of laughter filled the place. The mixed drinks
were turning purple on Rom's skull. He was splutter-
ing, using his free hand to wipe at his nose and mouth.
    "Stop them." Somehow Nog had found his way
behind the bar. If Quark had thought his brother
annoying, he had been mistaken. Annoying was this
kid who seemed to think he knew everything, even
though he believed his father was worthy of respect.
    "After all the glasses Rom has broken today,"
Quark said, "I think I owe him one."
    "You owe him one," Nog said. "They do not.
They're making a fool of him."
    "He made a fool of himself," Quark said, and
moved to the edge of the bar.
    The lone Cardassian pilot still sat there, staring at
his Gamzian wine. He was muttering. Quark hurried
away.
  Laughter again rose from the group.
  "Why aren't you doing anything?" Nog asked.
    "I am doing something," Quark said. "I'm making
more drinks. Everyone will be out in a moment."
"How can you?" Nog said. "He's your brother."
"Don't I know it," Quark said. Rom was still
standing on that chair. No one was holding him any-
more. His head was covered with a sickly yellow
liquid; his clothing was drenched; and it looked like
his shoes were melting, even though they couldn't be.
The drinks, even mixed together, weren't toxic
enough.
  But the shoes could be cheap enough.
    The Cardassians were standing around him, shout-
ing and laughing each time someone poured a drink
on Rom, but more and more the Cardassians were
noticing that they were running out of liquor. A few
were already bellying up to the bar to order more.
Then a few more came.  And a few more.
  Suddenly, he was swamped. "Nog?"
     He turned. The boy was gone. Nog was as bad as his
 father and as worthless, too.

    Quark moved faster than he had in a long time,
mixing drinks, trying to keep the drunken Cardassi-
ans from tearing up his bar further. Rom would have
to clean up those drinks before anyone fell. Quark
didn't want to think about the damage that a falling
Cardassian could cause. He didn't want to think
about money at all. Right now, all it would do was
make him mad.
    Even though he was raking it in at the moment.
Maybe he shotfid hold a "Drench the Ferengi" contest
once a month. The only catch would be that the
customers would have to buy the drinks that they
poured on Rom. And it would have to be on Rom. He
wasn't good for anything else.
    He had been that way since he was a boy. Useless.
No business sense. Quark had sold Rom's birthday
presents, swindled him in his school ventures, even
made Rom pay a toll to get into his own room, and
still Rom had not learned. Not even by example.
 Not even when he was young.
    Quark shivered. And now he was stuck with his
brother. His brother and his nephew, both of whom
managed to inherit Quark's father's business sense, or
rather his lack of it.
    The traffic at the bar was slowing down. Quark
looked up. Nog was helping Rom off the chair. Rom
was shaking himself like a wet dog, drenching custom-
ers on either side. Fortunately, they were still too
pleased with themselves to care.
    With Nog's assistance, Rom squished his way to the
bar. Quark slid a pile of towels across the bar. "Go
clean up your mess," he said to his brother.
    "My mess? Brother, they assaulted me and you did
nothing."
    Quark set his lower'lip. He had had enough of
Rom's whining. If this new relationship were to
work--and part of him truly wished it wouldn't--
then Rom would have to learn a few things.
    "Nog," Quark said. "Clean up the spill before
someone slips."
  "No," Nog said. "My father--"
  "Nog," Quark said with some force.
    Nog glared at him, then picked up the towels and
headed back to the sodden chair.
  "Come back here," Quark said to Rom.
    Rom squished his way around the bar, leaving
prints. A few Cardassians watched, still chuckling.
The rest had gone back to their drinks and their Dabo
game.
    When Rom made it to the side of the bar, Quark
grabbed him by the ear and dragged him toward
the stairs leading to the holosuites. The tables were
empty, and no one was looking at them.
  "Ow!" Rom said. "What was that for?"
    "For being stupid enough to dump Romulan ale on
a Cardassian pilot. I'm lucky you didn't dump it on
Gul Dukat. He'd close us down."
  "It was a simple mistake, brother. I--"
    "If I had a strip of latinurn for each stupid mistake
you've made since you arrived on the station, I'd be a
rich man," Quark said. He had been quiet as long as
he could. "You brought this on yourself, and you're
lucky it wasn't worse."
    "Worse? Didn't you see what they did? The Visscus
vodka and the Itharian mol~ turned into a fizzing
powder that--"
    "I saw what they did," Quark said, lowering his
voice so that Rom had to lean forward to hear. "And
if you had dumped that ale on Gul Dukat, you'd be in
the brig now. Or worse."  "Worse?"
    "Worse." Quark crossed his arms. "I let them pick
on you for your own good. Maybe you'll learn to be
more careful. This is a dangerous place. You can't go
around being your happy-go-lucky self. You have to
watch everything you do."
    "Yes, brother," Rom said, meekly. Then he added,
"And here I thought you were just mad at all the
glasses I broke."
    "That too," Quark said. "I'm going to start deduct-
ing the price of everything you break from your
salary."
  "But brotherre"
    Quark held up a hand. "I'm doing you a lot of
favors, Rom. I didn't have to give you a home and a
job when Prindora's father swindled you out of all
your money."
    "You weren't going to bring that up again," Rom
said, glancing over his shoulder for Nog. The boy was
still wiping the floor. Those Cardassians had poured a
lot of liquid on Rom.
     "It's kind of hard to forget, Rom. What kind of
idiot fails to read the fine print in a contract?" 
"It was a marriage contract," Rom said.
    "So?" Quark asked. "How is that different from a
regular contract?"
    "It was even an extension of the marriage contract.
I read the first one."
    "Twelve years ago," Quark said. "And I'll bet you
forgot the terms, didn't you?"
 Rom swallowed and looked down.
 "You loved Prindora, so you trusted her."
 Rom nodded.
 "She's a female, Rom."
 "She was my wife," Rom said miserably.
    "At least she remembered the Sixth Rule of Acqui-
sition."
 "That's not fair," Rom said.
 "What is it?" Quark asked. "Do you even know?"
    Rom straightened his shoulders. "'Never allow
family to stand in the way of opportunity.'"
    "Good," Quark said. "Then you should understand
why I let the Cardassians pour drinks on you. I made
money, and that's more than I've done since you
showed up."
  "I'm sorry, brother," Rom said.
    "You should be. Now go put on some clean clothes
and get back out here. There's a lot of work to do."
Quark glanced over at Nog. "And your son isn't a
very good substitute."
  "He's just a boy," Rom said.
    "Go," Quark said, and Rom ran for their quarters.
Quark shook his head and returned to the bar. Some-
times even he forgot the Sixth Rule of Acquisition. If
he had remembered it, he wouldn't have allowed Rom
here in the first place. But Rom had looked so pathetic
when he arrived, dragging Nog behind him. Quark
had actually felt sorry for them, although that emo-
tion was quickly fading now~ Every time he heard the
sound of shattering glass.
    "Nog!" he yelled. "When you finish that, I have
some other things for you to clean."
    The boy looked at him for a long moment. There
was something in Nog's eyes, something a bit too
rebellious for Quark, but then it disappeared as if it
had never been.
  "Yes, uncle," Nog said.
    Quark nodded curtly, then leaned back and sur-
veyed the bar. The Cardassian freighter crews were
thinning. Drink had forced some of them to leave.
The remaining ones weren't as rowdy as they had
been earlier. The muttering pilot at the far end of the
bar was still staring at his Gamzian wine. The glass
was as full as it had been before the trouble started,
but the Cardassian was an odd shade of green.
    "And I thought the gray looked bad," Quark mur-
mured. He frowned. A few of the Cardassians around
the Dabo table were also faintly greenish. He had seen
a lot of drunk Cardassians in his day, but he had never
seen them turn vaguely green before. He had always
thought that a hu-man trait.
    Maybe they were all from the same ship. Or maybe
the greenish tinge was being caused by something
they'd eaten. Or maybe they were from a part of
Cardassia Prime that made them look that way natu-
rally.
    "Or maybe that's how Cardassians look when they
tan."
 "What, uncle?"
    Quark jumped. He hadn't realized Nog was beside
him. "Do those Cardassians look strange to you?"
Nog peered at them. "They all look strange to me."
Quark nodded. Nog had a point. Maybe Quark had
been here so long that everything abnormal was
beginning to look normal.
    What a frightening thought. He shuddered one
more time, and then went back to work.




Chapter Three

THE LIGHTS IN THE MEDICAL LAB seemed dimmer than
usual. Gul Dukat stepped inside, hands clasped be-
hind his back. He was used to being here when
colleagues and subordinates were wounded, but he
felt uncomfortable here in cases like this. Illness.
Especially unrecognized illness. The very idea made
his skin crawl.
    The displays were flashing, the monitors constantly
recording various bits of information. In the main
section, the physician assigned to Terok Nor, Narat,
sat at his desk studying a screen before him. On beds
hooked up to the monitors were two of Dukat's
guards. Their skin was an odd greenish color, almost
the color of a body shortly after it begins to decay.
    Dukat raised his head slightly. Through the door of
the second, smaller room, he could see the blanket-
covered feet of the two Bajoran patients. Their doc-
tor, Kellec Ton, stood beside them studying a Cardas-
sian padd as if it were in a strange language. It looked
odd to Dukat to see Bajorans here. They belonged in
the medical part of the Bajoran area. It wasn't as well
appointed as this, but then, they were workers. They
didn't need all of this equipment.
    He wouldn't have allowed them up here if Narat
didn't believe that the disease the Bajoran workers
had was related to the disease these two guards
seemed to have.
    Dukat took another step into the medical lab. Narat
turned. He was slight, and his neck scales were hardly
prominent. His eyes almost disappeared into his thin
face. They were always bloodshot, but they seemed
worse now. His thinning hair was cut short, almost
too short, and stood straight up. He wore a lab coat
over his uniform, and it gave him a scholarly air.
    "Ah, Gul Dukat. I appreciate you coming here so
quickly."
    Dukat glanced at the patients on the bed. He felt
uncomfortable, so he wasn't going to give any lezway
to Narat. "I don't like to have Bajorans up here."
    "We have a forcefield at the doors, just as you
recommended," Narat said. "But they're not going
anywhere. They will die here, probably within a few
hours."
 He sounded certain.
 "I'd like you to see them."
    Dukat frowned, glancing again at the guards. One
of them moaned and thrashed, clutching at his stom-
ach. Narat uttered a small curse, then found a hypo-
spray and shut off the quarantine field around the bed.
He stepped inside, restarted the quarantine field, and
administered hypo to the man's neck. The guard
calmed slightly.
  "What about them?" Dukat asked.
    "In a moment," Narat said, as he let himself out of
the quarantine field. "Let me tell you this in my own
way."
    He led Dukat to the second room. They stopped at
the door. The forcefield Dukat had insisted on was
more for the Bajoran doctor than it was for the
patients, but Dukat didn't tell Narat that. Dukat
wanted Narat and Kellec Ton to work together as best
a Cardassian and a Bajoran could. He just wasn't
going to take any chances.
    As if he knew that Dukat was thinking of him,
Kellec Ton looked up from his padd. He had the wide
dark eyes that Dukat found so compelling in Ba-
jorans. His nose ridge set them off. His face was long,
but didn't give an impression of weakness like Narat's
did. On Kellec, the length accented his bone structure
and gave him a suggestion of power.
    Dukat had been careful around this Bajoran doctor,
and had limited his access to the Cardassians. Women
found him attractive, and Dukat didn't like that.
Kellec Ton had the kind of charisma that could be
dangerous if allowed to run free.
    Dukat couldn't study him any longer. He had to
look at the patients.
    The Bajorans on the table were not a strange shade
of green. In fact, their color was normal. Better than
normal. If he hadn't known better, Dukat would have
thought them the picture of perfect health.
    It was the stench that made their illness dear. The
pervasive odor of rot clung to everything, as if there
were food spoiling along the floors and walls of the
mom-4ood and unburied bodies decaying in a pow-
aeful sun.
    He resisted the urge to bring his hand over his face.
~11ec Ton was watching him, as if measuring Dukat's
te~onse. '~gusting, isn't it?" Kellec said. "You
~hould go into the Bajoran section. The smell is so
overpo~ there I have no idea how anyone can
~t2' 17ae~ he tilted his head slightly. "Not that
~here's much to eat in the first place."
    Dukat would not get into political discussions with
this man. He was on Terok Nor because Dnkat cared
for his Bajoran workers. He was here because a
healthy worker was a strong worker. The more
uridium the Bajorans processed, the better for all
concerned.
  "What is this disease?" Dukat asked.
    "If I knew, I might be able to help them." There
was a controlled frustration in Kellec's voice. "So far,
we've lost twenty Bajorans, and these two aren't far
behind. They look good, don't they?"
Dukat nodded, then asked, "What is the odor?"
KeUec glanced at Narat, who nodded that he should
continue. Kellec set the padd down on the instrument
table. "Exactly what you think it is. Their bodies are
decaying internally. I keep them sedated, but this
disease, whatever it is, is incredibly painful. Some of
the others broke through the sedatives before they
died--I couldn't give them enough medication to
ease the suffering."
    Somehow, he made that sound like Dukat's fault.
But Dukat had done nothing to cause this disease.
Some Bajoran had brought it onto the station. He had
left it to the Bajorans to cure. They handled their own
health. That was why he allowed them Kellec Ton. If
 they needed specific supplies, Kellec Ton was sup-
 posed to act as liaison with the Cardassians.
     "You should have notified us sooner. Perhaps Narat
 has something that will--"
  "No, I don't," Narat said.
    "Well," Dukat said, "I don't like diseases that
destroy my workers. You should have brought this to
me before it got out of control."
      "The disease first showed up a day and a half ago,"
Kellec said. "I've been a bit busy since then."
  "And it will only get worse," Narat said.
    Dukat turned to him. Narat's face looked even
more pinched than it had moments ago. "Why is
that?"
    He took Dukat's arm and led him to the edge of the
nearest guard's bed. Up close, the greenish color was
mottled. The ridges around the guard's eyes and down
his neck were flaking, and a pale gray liquid lined his
mouth and nostrils.
    Dukat kept his distance, even though he knew the
guard was surrounded by a quarantine field.
    "This does not look like the same disease to me,"
Dukat said. Narat had told him earlier, when asking
permission to have Kellec and two Bajorans brought
to the medical lab, that the Cardassians were now
infected with the disease that was killing the Ba-
jorans.
    "It doesn't look like the same disease," Narat said,
"because you are looking at the symptoms. If you
were looking at the disease itself on microscopic level,
you would see that it is the same virus--even though
it attacks Cardassians differently than it attacks Ba-
jorans."
  "So you'll be able to cure them," Dukat said.
    Narat shook his head. "Not unless we discover
something quickly."
    "But if you know its cause," Dukat said, "then you
should be able to find a counteragent."
    "Should," Narat said, "and probably will." He
glanced at Kellec Ton, who was standing near the
door. Neither of them seemed as certain as doctors
usually did.
 "But?" Dukat asked.
 "But we don't have the time," Kellec said.
    "The disease progresses rapidly," Narat said.
"That's a trait it shares in both Barjorans and in
Cardassians. These guards came in complaining of
dizziness and lack of coordination. Now they cannot
sit on their own. The mucus that you see--" and he
pointed to the grayish fluid leaking out of their eyes,
noses, and mouths. Dukat grimaced in spite of him-
self "mis filling their lungs. They will drown by
tomorrow if we do not find a way to stop this."
    "Drown?" Dukat repeated. He couldn't imagine
anyone drowning on Terok Nor. If he had to predict a
way his people might die here, it would not be by
drowning.
  "That's the net effect," Narat said.
    "This is not possible," Dukat said. "Bajorans and
Cardassians cannot contract the same diseases. We
have known that--" he caught himself. Kellec Ton
looked at him, eyes sharp. The Bajoran doctor did not
need to know how much information the Cardassians
had gathered on the Bajorans. "We have known that
for a long time."
    "We have," Narat said. "But this is something
new."
  "Brand new," Kellec said.
    There was something in his voice that annoyed
Dukat, a faint accusation. Dukat approached the
door. The stench seemed to have grown.
  "What are you suggesting?" Dukat asked.
    "I'm not suggesting anything." Kellec's expression
was mild, but his eyes were not. They were intense,
filled with something that Dukat recognized.
  Hatred.
    Good. Let the Bajoran hate him. He wasn't compet-
ing in any popularity contests.
    "But," Kellec continued, "I have heard rumors that
this disease is the result of a Cardassian experiment,
designed to rid the universe of Bajorans. What better
way to get our planet than to destroy us all?"
    Dukat felt rage rush through him, but he did not
move. He waited until the first wave of anger had
passed before responding. He didn't want the Bajoran
to know that his comment had hit the mark.
    "If that were the case," Dukat said, making certain
he sounded calm, "then this disease would not be
killing Cardassians."
"It would if someone made a mistake," Kellec said.
Their gazes met for a moment. They both knew the
Cardassians were capable of this. Then Dukat said,
"Your job is to find a cure for this disease--both
versions, Cardassian and Bajoran."
    "You're feeling compassion for Bajorans?" Kellec
asked, with great sarcasm.
    "I prefer to have my Bajorans alive and working,"
Dukat said. "Not straining the medical resources of
Terok Nor."
    He turned away from Kellec, no longer willing to
look at the man. "If this disease progresses as rapidly
as you say," he said to Narat, "then we have to isolate
it. We don't want it spreading through the station."
    "I'll do what I can," Narat said. "But we have a
problem here. We are, essentially, in a floating tin can,
sharing the same air. I can have the computers filter
for an air-borne version of this virus in the life-
support system and neutralize it, but the disease
might not be spread that way. We don't know enough
about it."
    "Isolate anyone who comes in contact with it,"
Dukat said. "I don't want this spreading."
    "I won't be able to do that, treat these patients, and
find a cure," Narat said. "You'll have to issue the
order."
 He had a point. "All right," Dukat said.
 "It's probably too late," Kellec Ton said.
 They turned to him.
    Kellec shrugged. "If this disease has a long incuba-
tion period, then it could have been spreading all over
the station long before any symptoms appeared."
  "Then we'd all have it," Narat said softly.
    Dukat felt his skin crawl again. He couldn't help
himself; he shot another look at the ill guards. He
would do anything not to end up like that.
    Then the door to medical lab swished open. Two
Cardassians Dukat didn't recognize entered. They
were wearing the uniform of the uridium freighter
crews. The woman was hanging on the man, barely
able to walk. Her skin was green.
  "You the doctor?" the man asked.
    Dukat took a step backwards even though they
hadn't come near him yet. He was standing near the
second door.
    "No," he said, and he sounded alarmed, even to his
own ears. "I'm not the doctor."
    "I am," Narat said, walking toward them as if this
thing didn't bother him at all. "Quarantine protocol."
    The quarantine field went up around the newcom-
ers. Dukat let out a small sigh.
    "Don't relax yet," Kellec said to him softly. "All it
takes is a moment to get infected. One small breath of
air. A touch."
  Dukat whirled.
    The Bajoran was watching him, that maddeningly
calm expression on his face.
  "Then find the cure," Dukat said.
"I plan to," Keltec said. "For my own people."
"I command you to find it for both." Dukat raised
his voice. The new patient and his companion were
looking at him, along with Narato
 "Why should I help your people?" Kellec asked.
 "Why should I help yours?" Dukat asked.
    They stared at each other for a moment. Then
Kellec said, "You want our services and our planet."
    "You cannot survive without us," Dukat said. "Not
anymore."
 "We could survive just fine," Kellec said.
    There was a crash behind them. Dukat turned. The
woman had collapsed. The man who had brought her
was clutching the wall as if it gave him strength.
  "I need some help over here," Narat said.
  Dukat remained where he was.
  "Open the force field," Kellec said.
  Dukat looked at him.
 "Open it, and I will help them," Kellec said.
    Dukat brought the force field down. Kellec hurried
to the others, demanding that Narat drop the quaran-
tine field on that end as well. Both doctors picked up
the female patient, helping her to a bed. Then they
helped the male patient. They bent over the patients,
lost in their work.
    Dukat watched them for a moment, feeling itchy
and cold. He glanced at his hand. The skin was its
normal grayish color. Healthy. He was healthy.
  For the moment.
    Kellec wasn't looking at him, and Dukat didn't
want to go any closer to taunt him. But Dukat knew
Kellec, knew his kind. The man was a doctor first. He
would heal a patient and then look to see the patient's
race. That was why Dukat had Kellec brought to
Terok Nor. For all his Bajoran patriotism, Kellec
would save Cardassians if he had to.
    In fact, he had just demanded to be allowed to.
They would work together to solve this, Cardassian
and Bajoran, because they had no other choice.





Chapter Four

DocroR KATHERINE PUL^Sm stood in the sickbay of
the Enterprise. She was alone. The four medical staff
members who were supposed to be in the area had
honored her request and granted her the last few
moments here alone.
    She sighed. The instruments were on their trays,
just as she liked them. The monitors were in their off
positions. The desk was neat, but all of her personal
experiments were gone. Sickbay was tidied up and
ready for the new doctor.
    Or the old doctor, as it were. Pulaski was being
replaced by the doctor she'd replaced, Beverly Crush-
er. Which was as it should be. Dr. Crusher's presence
had never entirely left this sickbay. No matter what
Pulaski did, she had a sense of Beverly Crusher's
presence. Part of it was the very layout of the bay. Of
course, much was standard on each starship and
Pulaski had served on a number. But there were items
left to each doctor's discretion--where to put the
experiments, for example, or the way the desk was
situated in the office. Pulaski had always meant to
move the pieces around, to make the sickbay more
efficient for her type of medicine. But the demands of
being the chief medical officer on a starship--particu-
larly an active starship like the Enterprise, a ship with
a demanding captain--had never allowed her enough
free time to reorganize.
    That wasn't entirely true. There had been down
periods where she had had some free time--once she
had even helped Data in his Sherlock Holmes holo-
deck program--but she had generally used those
times for resting. Making big changes like rearranging
sickbay would have required a lot of effort, not just in
moving of furniture but in retraining the staff. Effort
she was now relieved she hadn't expended.
    She tugged at her blue shirt and glanced at her
travel bags. She had already removed personal items
from her quarters, and all of her experiments and
notes were already on the shuttle that would take her
to Deep Space Five. She wasn't sure what her new
assignment would be--Starfleet was being cagey
about it, as always, which usually meant they were
considering her for several missions and that she
would get the one that rose to the top.
    Still, she would miss the Enterprise. She loved
starships and the challenges they presented. On star-
ships she saw diseases no one else had seen; injuries
whose treatment required a knowledge of the most
current techniques or the most primitive, depending
on whether she was aboard ship or on a hostile planet;
aliens whose physiology was so strange that she didn't
know what they looked like well, let alone if anything
was wrong with them.
    She hoped she would get reassigned to a starship,
but she doubted that she would. If Starfleet Medical
had its way, she would be heading to some starbase
where she would squire newly minted doctors through
their residencies.
    If the truth be told, she'd rather stay on Deep Space
Five than do that.
 Her combadge chirruped.
     She sighed. She would have to leave now. She
wasn't ready. But she pressed the badge anyway.
  "Pulaski."
    "Doctor, sorry to bother you before you leave, but
we have an emergency." Geordi La Forge sounded all
business. "One of the crewmen got caught in an
explosion in Jefferies Tube Three. There was a local-
ized fire. We put it out, but he's severely burned."
    Burns. She hated them. The trauma to the skin
could continue long after the fire was actually put out.
    "Beam him directly to sickbay," she said. She hated
the transporter, thought it an infernal device, but it
had its uses. Right now, she needed speed more than
she needed caution.
    The crewman shimmered into place on one of the
biobeds. His blue shirt was in charred ruins around
his badly burned skin. He was human, which made
her task just a bit harder. Vulcans and Klingons
handled burns--indeed all painmbetter than hu-
mans.
    He wasn't conscious, for which she was grateful,
but he was moaning. Burn pain was excruciating. She
hurried to the biobed, with the fleeting thought that
the sickbay wouldn't be in order for Dr. Crusher. Ah,
well. Reorganization simply wasn't Pulaski's strong
suit. Dr. Crusher would understand.
    The smell of burned skin filled the sickbay. The
biobed was giving his vitals, but she wanted more
information. She picked up her medical tricorder and
ran it over him, watching the readouts confirm the
information she was already receiving.
    No deep trauma, no internal injuries. Just burns.
The crewman would live. But she didn't slow down.
First she eased his pain and put him into a deep,
restful sleep. Then, for the next five minutes she
carefully repaired the burned skin, one area at a time.
    Skin repair was delicate work, but something she
had done all of her career. She was quicker at it than
most, but that was partly because she disliked it so
much. Burns, she often thought, were the worst injury
of all.
    After she had finished, she stood, brushing a strand
of hair from her face, and checked his readings again.
Still resting comfortably. She'd keep him that way for
a few hours to give that new skin time to heal. And to
give his mind time to deal with the memory of the
pain. Sometimes in cases like this, the memories were
the hardest to heal. Much harder than the skin. She'd
have to let Counselor Troi know before she left.
  "Nice work, Doctor."
    Pulaski started. No one was supposed to be here,
and she didn't recognize the voice. Had someone
beamed in with the crewman? She had been too
preoccupied to notice. She turned.
 Beverly Crusher stood in the center of the bay,
where Pulaski had been just minutes earlier. Her long
red hair cascaded around her face. She looked thinner
than Pulaski remembered.
  "Very nice work," Dr. Crusher repeated.
    "Thank you, Doctor." Pulaski smiled. The eompli.
ment meant a lot. Dr. Crusher was one of the best
doctors in the fleet. Picard had told her she would
always have a berth on the Enterprise, so when she
decided that heading Starfleet Medical wasn't for her,
she requested her old job back. Picard gave it to her
without hesitation, even though--as he had solemnly
told Pulaski--their current chief medical officer was
one of the most talented physicians he had worked
with. Picard was a diplomat, so Pulaski knew he
might be exaggerating slightly, but he was also the
captain of a starship, and he didn't give out idle
praise.
    Dr. Crusher looked around the main area of the
sickbay as if she were a blind woman just recovering
her sight. "You know, there were days at Starfleet
Medical when I never thought I would ever see the
inside of one of these again."
 Pulaski smoothed her hair with one hand.
 "I missed it a great deal."
    "I imagine you did," Pulaski said. She felt her
shoulders stiffen. She would miss it too.
    "I'm sorry, Katherine," Dr. Crusher said. "You
were doing an exceptional job here. I wouldn't have
asked to come back to the Enterprise if it weren't for
Wesley."
    Pulaski nodded. "I had a feeling from the first that I
was merely keeping this place warm for you."
 "It looks like you did more than that." Dr. Crusher
nodded at the crewman. His vitals were closer to
normal than they had been just a few moments
before. "I've never seen such quick work on a burn
patient. I doubt I could have done as well."
    "I've studied your logs," Pulaski said. "You've
done as well or better."
    Their gazes met, and an awkwardness that had been
reflected in their words seemed to grow. Finally Dr.
Crusher tossed her long hair back--such a girlish
move from such an accomplished woman--and
laughed.
    "I'm sorry about this," she said. "I didn't realize it
would be so uncomfortable."
    Pulaski frowned just slightly. If Dr. Crusher was
referring to their meeting, she should have known. It
was an unwritten rule among chief medical officers
that they never share a sickbay--at least not on a
starship. The new officer replacing the old officer
would wait until his or her predecessor was off the
ship before entering sickbay.
    But Pulaski said nothing. An unwritten rule was a
tradition, yes, but it wasn't as if Dr. Crusher had done
much more than been slightly impolite. It was some-
thing easily overlooked.
    Apparently Pulaski's silence went on too long. Dr.
Crusher's smile faded.
"There is a reason that I'm here early," she said.
Pulaski felt some of the tension leave her. The
breach of etiquette had bothered her, even though she
had just been trying to convince herself that it hadn't.
She felt Dr. Crusher's returning as a slight rebuke,
almost as if she weren't important enough to remain
on the ship. She had known that the feeling was
 irrational and, in her better moments, had forgotten
 all about it. But it had been a thread, an undercurrent,
 during the whole last month, since she'd finally
 learned that she would be leaving.
  "I hope it's not too serious," Pulaski said.
    Dr. Crushefts mouth formed a thin line. "Starfleet
Medical wanted me to tell you there's a problem on
Bajor."
    Whatever Pulaski had expected, it wasn't that. She
fought to keep her face impassive, not to let her
emotions show. Dr. Kellec Ton, after all, was her ex-
husband, and as much as she cared about him, she
had known that this moment could come. She had
urged him to leave Bajor, knowing that with his
temperament, he couldn't be safe under the Cardas-
sian occupation. But he had refused, just as he had
always refused to do the sensible thing during their
marriage, citing his loyalty to his homeland and its
great need for him in time of crisis.
    "Why did Starfleet Medical believe they needed to
inform me of this?"
    Dr. Crusher's gaze held hers. "There are rumors
that a plague on Bajor is killing both Cardassians and
Bajorans."
    Pulaski threaded her fingers together and held her
hands over her stomach, as if the pressure would keep
her nerves from getting worse.
    "That's not possible," Pulaski said. "Their systems
are too different. Viruses cannot be spread from
Bajoran to Cardassian and back again."
    "I thought the same thing," Dr. Crusher said softly.
"But Starfleet Medical is taking the rumors seri-
ously."
 Rumors. If they only had rumors, they wouldn't
know who died. For all they knew, Kellec was just
fine.
    Suddenly Pulaski knew why Dr. Crusher was telling
her this. "They want me to contact Kellec for them,
don't they?"
    Dr. Crusher nodded. "A message from Starfleet
might put him in jeopardy. A message from youm"
    "Would seem normal. Or somewhat normal." Pu-
laski let her hands drop to her sides. She was on good
terms with Kellec, as she was with her other two ex-
husbands. But she didn't like talking with him. She
had loved him a great deal, but his stubbornness had
frustrated her--and it continued to frustrate her,
even now.
    "Starfleet Medical believes that Dr. Kellec Ton can
confirm or deny the rumors."
    Pulaski nodded. "As long as I present my questions
in a way that won't put him in any danger."
    "From what I understand of Kellec Ton," Dr.
Crusher said, "he's probably already in danger, at
least the political kind."
    "He never could remain quiet about things that
bothered him," Pulaski said.
 "When was the last time you spoke with him?"
 "A month ago." They had fought, as they often did.
 Kellec had agreed to go to a Cardassian space station
 to take care of their Bajoran workers. He hadn't
 explained his motivesmhe didn't dare on the un-
 scrambled channels he could get out of Bajor--but he
 didn't have to. He would take care of the workers' ill
 health, document the atrocities he saw, and do what
 he could to promote the resistance movement from
 the inside--maybe even destroy the station, if it were
 within his power.
     She had argued against the assignment, attempting
 to use medical arguments that couched her larger
 objections. But they had both known what she was
 talking about. And the argument had ended, as they
 all had, with Kellec shaking his head.
     Katherine, my love, he had said. Our fundamental
 problem is, and has always been, your unwillingness to
 let me make my own mistakes.
     She was letting him make his own mistakes. But
 she'd had to divorce him to do so.
  "Can you contact him again?" Dr. Crusher asked.
     Pulaski nodded. "I believe I know where to find
 him."
    "Good," Dr. Crusher said. "I'm sorry to bother you
with this, especially now. But it is the best way for us
to handle this potential crisis."
    There was something that Dr. Crusher wasn't tell-
ing her, something that Starfleet Medical was very
interested in, something that they were willing to risk
a high-profile contact with Bajor over. But Pulaski
had been military for a long time. She knew better
than to ask for information that she had not been
given. If it had been something she needed to know,
Dr. Crusher would have told her.
  "Well," Pulaski said, "I guess it's time."
    She glanced at her last patient on the Enterprise.
The crewman's readings were mostly normal, his new
skin looking pink and healthy. She went over to him
and drew a blanket across him. He was sleeping
peacefully. He wouldn't even remember his treat-
ment. He would think Dr. Crusher had taken care of
him, and even though she would probably correct
him, he would never really know what had happened
 But Pulaski would.
    "I'm sorry it's such a mess. I had planned to leave it
tidy for you."
 Dr. Crusher smiled. "Medicine is rarely tidy."
    Pulaski nodded. That was a fact she knew all too
well.





Chapter Five

A MIST HAD FORMED at the base of the mountains. Gel
Kynled felt the chill, even though he stood in the
shadow of what had once been an excellent restau-
rant. It was Cardassian now, with the former restau-
rant owner working as a waiter and forced to suffer
daily humiliation from the occupying army. Gel
hated watching that. He hated so many things about
Bajor these days. So many Bajorans simply took the
Occupation as their lot in life. They looked away
when their friends disappeared, mourned when their
families died, but did nothing.
  He couldn't stand doing nothing.
    He had his arm wrapped around the waist of
Cadema Hyle. She was too thin for him. Her clothing
was baggy and barely hid the signs of starvation that
had been so prominent a few months ago. Cadema
had managed to escape from one of the camps--
probably because the Cardassian guards had left her
for dead. She had climbed out of the mountains,
surviving on roots and berries before she made it back
to their resistance cell. She never spoke of the experi-
ence, not after that first day, but it had changed her.
    Like him, she was willing to do anything to get rid
of the Cardassians. Anything at all.
    It was nearly curfew. Most of the Bajorans who
were on the streets were hurrying toward their homes.
The people left in this area had nominal freedom, all
of them knowing they could lose it with a single error.
Staying out past curfew could be that error.
    The Cardassians passing him were no longer on
duty, but they weren't in a hurry either. Gel resisted
the urge to check the time. He and Cadema were
standing casually, looking younger than they were--
because they had always looked younger than they
were--and pretending to be in love. Idle youth, not
caring about deadlines or curfews or Cardassian sol-
diers. But it was getting late, and Gel didn't dare call
attention to himself. He needed his freedom, and so
did Cadema. In fact, Cadema said she would do
anything she could, anything, to prevent being cap-
tured by the Cardassians again.
     He felt her shift ever so slightly. Her movement
 wasn't noticeable to anyone watching, but it was a
 sign that she was getting nervous too.
  "A few more moments," he said softly.
     She smiled at him, tilting her head upward, a
 lovesick look that didn't make it to her eyes. He
 smiled back, so fond. Lovers, taking the last few
 minutes of precious daylight to be together.
     Someone coughed a few meters away, a loud, honk-
 ing cough. It was their signal. Cadema tensed. Gel slid
 his left hand behind his back. His fingers rested lightly
 on a stolen Cardassian phaser tucked into a belt,
 holding it against his spine. He could draw and fire
 the pistol faster than a Cardassian could raise his arm.
 Gel had killed at least ten Cardassian guards with that
 pistol over the last few months. He planned on killing
 a lot more.
     A Jibetian trader walked past, still coughing. He
 was long and lean, like most of his people, and his
 ridged cheeks were very pronounced. Gel had never
 seen him before.
    "You need to do something for that cough,"
Cadema said, her voice gentle, as if giving advice to a
friend.
    The trader stopped, his cloak flowing around him.
The movement was fluid and powerful. It also re-
vealed the weapons at his waist. A pistol like Gel's
and something Gel didn't recognize.
    The trader's pale green eyes took both of them in.
Nothing in his expression changed, but he seemed to
recognize them as a team.
    He stepped closer, so close that his words were
audible only to Gel and Cadema. "My boss does not
like being summoned."
    Gel didn't move. He kept one hand on his weapon,
the other casually draped over Cadema. As he spoke,
he smiled, so that anyone watching would think they
were still discussing cold remedies.  
"Bajorans are dying," he said.
    The trader shrugged. "You were warned there
might be some casualties."
    "Some," Cadema said. "We thought that meant
only those initially involved. Your boss misled us."
    The trader's gaze flickered toward the street and
then back to them. They were the last Bajorans out,
and there were no more Cardassians. Curfew had
started. In a few moments, they all would be in
trouble.
    "People in your business," the trader said, "should
not be soft."
    Gel's grip on the pistol tightened. He knew he was
being goaded, and he would not let the trader get to
him. All of the people he had dealt with, everyone
who worked for the person--or persons--who had
theoretically developed this perfect biological weapon
to fight the Cardassians had been as cold and unfeel-
ing and cruel as this trader. All of them. They were
only in it for the money. Gel's resistance cell had
spent the last of its reserves getting this weapon, and
now it was backfiring on them.
    "Soft, weak," Gel said, "those are all subjective
terms. We're not talking about our ability to fight, or
our own willingness to die for our beliefs. But this
disease has spread beyond our cell, to the innocents.
Our children have been dying. It's not a pretty death."
    "You didn't buy a pretty death," the trader said.
"You bought something a bit more destructive than
that."
     "My people are getting sicker faster than the Car-
 dassians." Gel had to struggle to keep his voice down.
 Cadema was looking to make sure they were still
 alone on the street. They were.  So far.
  "The disease incubates longer in Cardassians."
     "Not good enough," Gel said. "You owe us more
 than that."
  "We owe you nothing."
  "You lied."
     "What are you going to do? Turn us in? Which
 government will prosecute us for violating the local
 commerce laws? What remains of the Bajoran govern-
 ment? Or the Cardassian warlords?"
     Cadema put a hand on Gel's chest. She knew how
 close he was to killing this bug.
     "We have done what we promised," the trader said.
 "You wanted to get rid of the Cardassians. We offered
 you a way, and now they are dying. What more do you
 want?"
"The Bajoran antidote for the plague," Gel said.
The trader smiled. It was a cruel, empty smile.
"What if we turn you in to the Cardassians and tell
them you're working for the person who started this
plague?" Gel asked.
    "And who's going to tell them? You, the great rebel
leader killing his own people?" The trader laughed
again, this time louder, his voice echoing down the
empty street.
    "We have kept complete documentation of all of
our dealings with you, including surveillance of all of
our meetings."
  "You have never dealt with the same person."
    "It doesn't matter. We have the conversations and
the promises. We have it all."
    "All except the names of the people you've really
been dealing with," the trader said.
    "That's not hard to find," Gel said. He was bluffing,
but it was getting dark. He was getting desperate. He
had thought this meeting would go better. "Give me
the Bajoran antidote."

    The trader smiled. "You think you are so coura-
geous." He crossed his arms. "You believe you are so
powerful, so smart. You don't like the idea that you've
been tricked."
    Cadema glanced at Gel. He knew what she was
thinking, and he shook his head slightly, but she
spoke anyway. "We will pay for it," she said.
    The trader's ridged cheeks puffed out. Gel had
worked with enough Jibetians to know that to be an
expression of surprise. "Really?" he asked. She nodded.
 "You have no money. You used it all to pay us."
    Gel felt cold. Perhaps they had been dealing out of
their league.
    Cadema let go of him and grabbed the trader by his
long cloak. She pulled him close. She had surprising
strength in those thin hands.
    "We are losing our children, our families, the very
reasons we are fighting the Cardassian dogs."
    The trader stared at her for a moment. Cadema had
let the veneer of civility drop. She had let him see
their desperation. Gel thougilt he saw pity in the
Jibetian's eyes.
"There is no antidote," the trader said.
"What?" Cadema let him go. "There has to be."
It hadn't been pity Gel had seen. It had been
disgust. The look intensified. The Jibetian straight-
ened his lapels. "My boss hates weakness. If you
couldn't stomach the deaths, you should not have
bought our services."
    Gel brought out his laser pistol, aiming and firing as
he moved. But he didn't get to see whether or not his
shot hit its target. The Jibetian already had his pistol
 out. A shot caught Gel in the chest, smashing him
 back against the wall. His own pistol fell out of his
 grasp.
     He didn't feel any pain, not yet anyway. He knew,
 somehow, that wasn't good.
     Cadema clove out of the way, but the Jibetian
 turned toward her. The street was still empty. Why
 wasn't there anyone on the street? Why didn't anyone
 see this?
     He tried to reach for the pistol, but he couldn't
 move his arms.
    A second shot hit Cadema. She twitched once, and
then didn't move, arms splayed, legs at an unnatural
angle. The Jibetian pushed at her with his booted
foot. She didn't respond.
    Gel couldn't. His body wasn't obeying his corn.
mands. It had slumped down the wall until he was
lying on his back, his neck shoved uncomfortably
against the brick. Odd that the only discomfort he felt
was in his neck. But he really couldn't feel much at all.
And he seemed to have control of nothing more than
his face. His breathing was short and uneven. He
couldn't really take a deep breath at all. The pistol the
Jibetian had used had scrambled Gel's systems. If he
didn't get help soon, he would die here, on this street,
just like Cadema.
      Without the antidote. Without being able to tell his
resistance cell there was no antidote.  All those deaths, on his shoulders.
    The Jibetian leaned over him. That look of disgust
was in his eyes again. He nudged Gel with his booted
foot, and like Cadema, Gel didn't move.
    "Trust me," the Jibetian said softly. "I've done you
a favor."
 "No," Gel whispered.
    "Ah, but I did," the Jibetian said. "I gave you the
only antidote to the plague."
    And then he laughed. Gel closed his eyes, and the
laugh followed him as he felt himself slip away into
final blackness.





Chapter Six

THE BtOO~N MEDICAL SECTION of Terok Nor lacked
everything the Cardassian medical section had. No
quarantine fields, no biobeds, nothing except field
medicine kits set up in comers, half a dozen of them,
many of them without the most important equip~
ment. Kellec Ton had been negotiating with Gul
Dukat for more equipment when this plague hit, and
then it became a minor consideration. Ton could
barely keep up with the patients, finding them beds,
making them comfortable. He couldn't worry about
the lack of equipment.
 He didn't have time.
    The stench in this area was so foul he could almost
touch it. The uncomfortable Cardassian heat, com-
bined with the poor environmental systems, made the
smell even worse. He tried to do an old-fashioned
quarantine field: separate the sick from the healthy by
placing the sick in a large room away from everything,
but he had a hunch he was doing too little too late.
    He bent over a teenage girl in the last stages of the
disease. She lay on a cot he had found in one of the
sleeping sections. She was moaning and clutching her
stomach. All he could do was ease the pain, but even
with the highest doses the pain slipped through. It was
all he could do not to overdose these victims. He had
to cling to some kind of hope that he would find a way
to cure the disease before they all died.
    His medical assistants, also people he'd had to fight
for with Gul Dukat, had all been exposed. Kellec Ton
had a hunch it was only a matter of time before they
fell prey to this thing too. Before he did.
    He had no idea what the incubation period was for
this virus, but he knew it was longer than he had
initially suspected. What research he had been able to
dommostly by word of mouth with the people who
had fallen ill--revealed that they had felt fine for the
last few weeks, and the illness had caught them by
surprise. It was the secondary wave he was looking
for, the people who had been infected by the earlier
carriers. He had only spoken to a fewmtoo many of
them hadn't come in when they first noticed they
weren't feeling well.
    All of his training in the psychology of serious
illness had prepared him for that, but he hadn't really
expected it. If he knew something serious was hap-
pening on the station, and he felt poorly, he would
have gone to get help immediately. Most people,
however, entered a serious denial phase based on fear.
Yes, the reasoning went, my best friend has this
disease, and I took care of her, but I'm strong. I never
get sick. I am just out of sorts, making things up. I
really can't be ill.
    By the time most of the second wave had come to
him, they were so ill they couldn't talk. In fact,
someone usually carried them in. All he could do now
was watch them die.  He hated this.
    He hated it as much as he hated the thick metal
walls and the dim lighting, as much as he hated the
way the Cardassians penned the Bajorans into these
sections as if they were animals instead of people.
Most of the Bajorans on Terok Nor already had
weakened immune systems. They had been worked so
hard that they were half dead on their feet. Their
rations were meager, their hygiene poor. The close
quarters made the spread of easily curable disease
rampant. He knew that a virulent virus, like this one,
would probably have found its way through the entire
population already.
 Now it was only a matter of time.
    What he wanted was all that equipment in the
Cardassian medical bay. The bright lights, the quar-
amine fields, the chance for his people to survive.
Instead of working down here in the worst possible
conditions, on the worst possible disease.
    At least he had access to the station's computer
system. Not all of it, of course, not even most of it, but
Narat had made the medical files--the official medi-
cal files--available to him. What Kellec wanted was
the unofficial files. He had heard that the Obsidian
Order had done experiments on Bajorans, and it
seemed likely to him that this was one of those
experiments gone awry. Not in its treatment of Ba-
jorans, but in the fact that it had somehow spread to
the Cardassians.
    GUl Dukat hadn't eased Kellec's mind on that, even
though he had tried to. The fleeting look that had
crossed his face when Kellec had accused the Cardas-
sians of this acknowledged the possibility. If this were
a Cardassian experiment to destroy the Bajorans that
had gotten out of control, then Kellec needed to
know. He was better at solving puzzles when he had
all of the relevant information.
    He pulled a blanket across the poor girl. The disease
accented her natural beauty, flushed her thin cheeks.
Her hands were permanently dirt-stained and cal-
lused, but with them covered, she looked as she
should have looked at this age, a young girl who had
just finished flirting with a young man, a girl with no
cares at all.
    Just by looking at her no one would be able to guess
that she would probably be dead before the day was
out.
    The comm link that Narat had given him beeped.
That was the third time in less than an hour. Kellec
supposed he should answer it. He had been trying to
ignore it. The Cardassians believed that Kellec should
be using his considerable brain power to help them,
not his own people.
    He hit the comm link so hard that he hoped he'd
shattered it. But no such luck. Instead Narat said,
"Why haven't you been answering my hails?"
    "Because I've been treating dying patients down
here," he snapped. "I got fifteen new patients in the
last hour. Thirteen in the hour before that. I've
forgotten how many came in the hour before that. So
my hands are a bit full. What do you want?"
    "Gul Dukat wants you to come up here. He believes
you can't get work done down below."
    Kellec clenched a fist, and then glanced around the
room. People everywhere, holding their stomachs,
rolled in fetal positions. The moans were so soft and
so prevalent that he had to focus on them to hear
them. And the smell ....
    KeUec shook his head. His assistants were doing
what they could. A handful of others, brave volun-
teers, were sitting at bedsides, holding hands, com-
forting, even though they knew they were staring in
the face of death.
"Work?" Kellec asked. "What kind of work?"
"Finding a solution to this thing. We need--"
"We need some understanding. My people are
dying. Or has Gul Dukat forgotten how sympathetic
he believes he is toward the Bajorans?"
    Narat was silent for a moment. A long moment.
Then he said, "I presented this wrong. I know you're
working below. But you and I must solve this thing
together, and that takes research, I'm afraid. I have
patients too, and they're dying--"
    "Are they?" Kellec said. "Well, they're dying in
better rooms than my people are, and so far they're
dying in fewer numbers. I don't see what I'll gain from
working with you."
    "Then you're not the man I thought you were,"
Narat said.
    Kellec took a deep breath. He did know what he'd
gain. He had lied. It was precisely what he had been
hoping for a few minutes ago. Better equipment.
More access. Hope.
    His assistants couldn't do the research. Only he
could do that. And he was essentially useless here.
"You're wasting time, man," Narat said. "And we
both know how precious time is."
    "Yes, we do," Kellec said. He sighed. It wasn't that
he hated the Cardassians. He did, in theory, although
Dukat had been right when he said that Kellec would
save a life before he'd take one. Any life, even a
Cardassian life. No. His hesitation was more complex
than that. He feared that his work with Narat would
help the Cardassians at the expense of his own people.
    "Kellec," Narat said into his silence. "You are the
better researcher."
    How much that must have cost the proud Cardas-
sian doctor. To admit that he was less talented at
medicine--at his jobmthan a Bajoran. To admit he
needed a Bajoran's help.
    "I tell you what," Kellec said. "If Gul Dukat is so
set on needing my services then he must pay for
them."
    "I don't have the ability to authorize payment,"
Narat said, just as Kellec expected him to. But Kellec
didn't give him time to say anything more.
    "I want to move all of my people, both the sick and
those who were exposed, to your medical area. I don't
want them held in place like prisoners, although I do
want quarantine fields so that we can do proper work.
I want them to die with dignity if they're going to die,
Narat, and if we find a way to save them, I want to
make sure my people get treatment as fast as your
people do. I also want my assistants up there, at my
side, helping with all the work."
    "Done," Narat said. His answer was too fast. He
apparently had been going to promise that anyway.
Kellec paused. He wanted more. Some other con-
cession, something that would make him feel like he
wasn't being pulled by the Cardassians.
    "If Gul Dukat wants to keep his prisoners alive and
working in uridium processing," Kellec said, "he
needs to increase the food rations. And he can't keep
up production at its current rate. We have too many
sick down here, and if he pushes the remaining
people, the illness will just get worse. I want a
mandatory eight-hour sleep period for all Bajorans,
and a decrease in production."
  "You know I'm not authorized--"
    "Yes," Kellec said. "I know you're not authorized.
But Gul Dukat is. He's the one who makes the rules.
Have him make this one. If he does, I'll come up."
    "I'll do what I can," Narat said. "But you're
wasting time."
 Narat signed off.
    Perhaps Kellec was wasting time, but he didn't
think so. He needed to take care of his people first. It
would only take Narat a few moments to get Dukat to
agree to the concessions.
    In the meantime, he stood and stretched. He
needed some nourishment himself. He had some food
and vitamin supplies in the tiny room the Cardassians
had allotted him. It would do his people no good if he
succumbed to this disease too. He had to do what he
could to fend it off, and part of that was remembering
to eat.
    He slipped out of the medical area, and hurried
down the corridor to his room. He suspected his room
had once been some kind of storage closet. There was
barely space for his bed. There was no replicator, no
real bathroom--only a makeshift one with an old and
malfunctioning sonic showermand no porthole. Still,
it was personal space, which was greatly lacking for
Bajorans on Terok Nor.
    He reached into his kit for a supplement, and saw
instead that his personal link was blinking. He felt
cold. He had brought the system up from Bajor, and
so far the Cardassians hadn't tampered with it. Or if
they had, they hadn't said anything. On it, he kept all
his medical notes, and an open line to Bajor itself,
since he theoretically was not a prisoner here.
    His people on the surface were not to send him
messages unless it was urgent. He had received several
messages in the last few days about the plague,
messages he had forwarded to Narat, partly as infor-
mation, partly to prove he wasn't hiding anything
from the Cardassians. Most of the messages requested
that he return home. The plague had struck there, too,
and was running through areas of Bajor the way it was
running through Terok Nor.
    He had sent carefully worded messages back, saying
that he would remain on Terok Nor. Gul Dukat might
see that as a twisted form of loyalty when, in fact, it
was prudence. Kellec had not received word that the
Cardassians on the surface had been affected. They
had been here. That, plus the promise of using the
Cardassian medical files, was enough to keep him
here, for the moment. He had a better chance of
finding the solution on Terok Nor.
    With a shaking hand, he reached for the message
button. It was a notification transmission. Once he
responded, the person on the other end would be
alerted, and they could have a conversation. He sat
down and waited.
    To his surprise, Katherine's face appeared on the
small viewscreen. Her brown hair was tangled about
her face, and her blue eyes were filled with compas-
sion.
 She looked very, very good.
 And very far away.
 "Ton," she said.
 "Katherine."
 "I was worried about you."
 He smiled tiredly. "You always worry about me."
    She nodded. "I'm hearing very bad things about
your part of the quadrant."
  "We're at war, Katherine," he said.
"No," she said. "I'm hearing more than that."
He frowned. She was asking about the plague. Had
word reached the Federation then? He didn't dare ask
her directly.
  "Why are you calling me now, Katherine?"
    "I'm surprised to find you still on Terok Nor. I
would have thought they needed you on Bajor."
    "They've been requesting my services on Bajor," he
said. "But I'm too busy here. I haven't slept in two
days, Katherine. I'm sorry, but I don't have time for
small talk. Otherwise I'd ask about you and the
Enterprise and all your various adventures. But I'm
needed desperately elsewhere. Gul Dukat has de-
manded that I work in the Cardassian sickbay as well.
It seems that my expertise is now considered to
extend to Cardassians."
  "It sounds serious," she said.
    "It is." Then he paused and looked at her. They had
always been attracted, and incompatible. He missed
that soft, calm manner of hers. She had never been as
intense as he was, but she was as driven, perhaps more
so. She simply believed in conserving her energy for
important things.
 "Are you all right?" she asked softly.
    "Tired," he said, "and distracted. There's too much
I don't know, Katherine, and I have no time to learn
it."
    "Well," she said in that slow way of hers. "I wanted
to tell you that I am no longer on the Enterprise. If
you need to reach me, I'll be on Deep Space Five for a
short time. I'll let you know when I go elsewhere. I
haven't gotten my new duty assignment yet."
    So that was her ostensible reason for this contact.
Brilliant, Katherine. "Thank you," he said. "I always
appreciate knowing what's happening with you."
    She smiled. He loved that smile still, and missed it
more than he wanted to admit. "Please," she said.
"Take care of yourself."
    And then she signed off. He sat in front of his
system for a moment and forced himself to breathe.
The Cardassians would find nothing amiss with that
message, and yet he heard an entirely different con-
versation than the one they had in words. That was
the benefit of having once been married; he and
Katherine had a language all their own.
    What she had really done was ask him about the
plague. She had heard it was on Bajor, and was
surprised he wasn't there treating it. He told her that
it was bad, and that it wasn't just affecting Bajorans.
The Cardassians had it too, which was why he was on
Terok Nor. He also told her, as best he could in that
limited conversation, that he had no solutions. Kathe-
rine was an excellent physician. She would know what
that meant.
    He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. That
might be the last time he talked with her. Ever. If he
got this thing.
  But he couldn't think that way.
  He didn't dare.
    He stood. What he wouldn't give to have her here,
now. She was the best researcher he knew, and she
was up on all the current information. Her position at
Starfleet gave her access to medical information from
almost everywhere. He knew that the Federation had
dealt with this sort of cross-species contamination,
but he didn't remember where, and he didn't have the
resources to find out. Katherine would.
    She had one other asset that he couldn't discount.
The most important one. She was one of the most
creative physicians in the quadrant. She had discov-
ered and neutralized all sorts of alien viruses, and she
had a knack for discovering the right solution at the
right time. If Katherine were here, she would look at
that virus and the way it affected Cardassians versus
the way it affected Bajorans, and she would know the
detail he was missing. She would know, or she would
do everything she could to find out. Just as he was doing.
    He sighed. Even if Narat wouldn't meet his terms,
he would go to the Cardassian medical section. He
had to. Discovering how to neutralize this virus was
the only chance they had.
 And maybe the only chance his people had.




Chapter Seven

DUKAT CONSTANTLY LOOKED at his skin. It was still
gray. But he was rubbing it all the time. It had been
crawling since the last time he had been in the
medical area. He wasn't sick yet, but he had a hunch
he was infected. He had a hunch they all were.
    He didn't want to return to the medical area, but he
had to. Narat hadn't reported since Kenec Ton had
made his demands. Lower production. Eight-hour
sleep schedules for Bajorans. Kellec's people were
strong. They didn't need such precautions. Kellec Ton
was taking advantage of Dukat, and Dukat was letting
him.
    It wouldn't last long. When this disease was cured
he would make the Bajorans work double and triple
shifts to make up for the lost production. He had to.
He had quotas to fill. If he fell behind, he would lose
his position here on Terok Nor. And that was the last
thing he wanted.
    The second-to-last thing. The last thing he wanted
was to be the gul who watched an entire space station
succumb to an incurable plague.
    He stepped inside the medical area. It was jammed
with patients. All the biobeds were full. Cardassians
and Bajorans lay side by side, apparently not noticing
each other. Bajoran and Cardassian medical workers
examined the sick, carrying pads, studying readouts,
administering pain medication.
    The stench in the area was worse than before.
Dukat put a hand over his mouth and nose. He
couldn't help himself. The smell was so powerful, he
doubted it would ever leave him. He would have to
destroy his clothes.
    If the odor was that strong, did that mean the
quarantine fields weren't working? The crawling sen-
sation in his skin grew worse.
    He was a soldier. He had seen death countless
times. He could handle this as well.
    But he knew, deep down, that this was different.
This was the kind of death every soldier feared.
Impossible to resolve. Death by weakness, by illness,
not in the course of battle, not for some important
cause, but because something microscopic managed
to defeat the body because the body wasn't strong
enough to handle it.
    Dukat made his way through the rows of moaning
people to the office. He stopped at the door. Narat sat
at one terminal, Kellec Ton at another. Above them,
holographic images of the virus spun in slow circles.
Computer readouts scrolled on each side, one readout
in Cardassian, the other in Bajoran. The office was
dark except for the light near the terminals them-
selves and whatever light was given off by the holo-
graphic image.
    Dukat stared at it for a moment. Enlarged, the virus
looked like an alien species, vibrant and alive. He
didn't know much about biology--he didn't know
the terminology for the prongs, or the fat center of the
thing, or the ladder-like connectors on the sides. All
he knew was that he would see the thing in his
dreams. If he ever had time to sleep again. 
"Are you finding anything?" he asked.
    Both men jumped. Neither had heard him arrive.
At least they were working hard. Narat turned to him.
Kellec took another sample vial and placed it in the
scope. He didn't bother to turn at all. "Not enough," Narat said.
 "We have found several things," Kellec said.
    "We're just not finding out what we need quick
enough," Narat said.
    Kellec still hadn't turned. Dukat closed the door.
"What things?"
    "Well," Narat said, even though Dukat had di-
rected the question at Kellec. "We have been able to
confirm that this virus was created." "Created?"
    "By someone," Kellec said. "It doesn't occur in
nature."
    "We had suspected as much when we knew that it
affected both Bajorans and Cardassians, but the vi-
rus's structure confirms it," Narat said. "See the--"
    "I trust your opinion," Dukat said. "What does this
mean?"
    "Someone created it," Kellec snapped. "Someone
targeted us intentionally, either both of our peoples or
one of them."
    Dukat suppressed a sigh. He had sent word to
Central Command and to his contacts in the Obsidian
Order. No one knew the cause of this virus, or if they
did they weren't admitting it.
    "If we could find who did this," Narat said, "we'd
probably find a solution."
 "But we don't have any time," Kellec said.
    "I know," Dukat said. The casualties throughout
the station were growing.
 "No, you don't know," Kellec said.
    Narat put a hand on Kellec's arm, but Kellec shook
it away. He faced Dukat.
    "This virus is extremely lethal." Kellec slid his
chair back and pointed to the image above him. This
time it showed small round blobs that appeared to be
floating in something. "These are normal Bajoran
cells. Now watch what happens when I introduce just
one virus."
    The virus was darker and flatter than the cells. It
had a nonsymmetrical shape, accentuated by the
precision of the cells themselves. It looked like a scout
for an invading army.
    Dukat stepped farther into the office, fascinated in
spite of himself. The virus latched on to the nearest
cell. Then the virus destroyed the cell and moved to
another. If a cell happened to divide, the virus did
too. The process was repeated cell by cell.
    "The incubation period, at least in Bajorans, is
fairly long for a virus of this type," Kellec said. "We
don't know how it's introduced to the body, but we do
know that once the virus has infiltrated the system,
the disease progresses very rapidly."
     Very rapidly. As Dukat watched, the virus de-
stroyed the last remaining healthy cell. He shuddered.
    "I don't know if we can reverse the virus's path,"
Kellec said. "It completely destroys any cells it
touches. But I suspect that we could stop it in the
incubation phase--if we could only find it."
    "This is the Bajoran version," Dukat said. "What
about the Cardassian?"
    "The virus seems to be the same, with slight
differences; but it reacts the same way to Cardassian
cells," Narat said. "It's as I told you before. Only the
symptoms are different. But I am having no more luck
than Kellec in discovering the way the virus is
spread."
    KeUec turned in his chair. His face seemed thinner
than it had before, and he had deep shadows under
his eyes. The disease was taking something from him
as well, and he wasn't even sick.
    "Actually," he said. "We're not being entirely accu-
rate. You saw what happened in my sample. If I were
to take the virus and touch you with it, either through
fluid or saliva, you would get sick and die within the
day. That is happening to some of our people. But
they are not the ones who hold the secret. The ones
who hold the secret are the ones who have incubated
the disease for days or weeks. We do not know how
many people are incubating it now. I'm testing my
own blood to see if I am, but so far I have found
nothing."
 "We do know," Narat said, "that the virus itself can
be spread by touch and through bodily fluids, but not
through the air. But it has moved into too many
people to be spread simply that way, so something
else is spreading it. We just don't know what."
  Dukat tensed.
    "We have been cautioning everyone, but I suspect
it's too late. We must not allow anyone to leave Terok
Nor, and no one should come here." Narat bowed his
head. "We have to remain completely isolated until
the disease has passed."
    Dukat straightened his shoulders. He had stopped
all departures from Terok Nor already, and he wasn't
allowing most arrivals. But the ore shipments contin-
ued, and he had been planning to allow the ore ships
that were docked, waiting for processed material, to
leave when they reached their quotas. To fail at this
would mean admitting to Central Command that
Terok Nor was crippled.
  But it was crippledwperhaps dying.
    "You haven't done that already?" Kellec sounded
shocked. "We explained how important quarantine
was."
    "I've done what was needed," Dukat said. He
wasn't about to admit that he hadn't done a full
quarantine on Terok Nor.
  "Do more," Kellec snapped.
  "You're out of line, Bajoran," Dukat said.
    Kellec tilted his head. "What are you going to do to
me? Kill me?"
    Dukat froze, then forced himself to breathe, hoping
Kellec hadn't seen the expression on his face. Kellec
had hit something Dukat hadn't realized: If the sur-
viving Bajorans believed they had nothing left to lose,
if they believed they would die anyway, they might
rebel in ways that the Cardassians couldn't stop,
particularly if his people were ill. He would become
the gul not just of a station that succumbed to a
plague, but a station in which all the Cardassians were
overthrown before the plague took everyone out.
    "I wouldn't be so smug, Kellec," Dukat said. "You
blame my people for this disease, but yours could just
as easily be responsible. Your rebels are sometimes
willing to die for what they believe in. They might
think: If a few Bajorans die to rid the universe of the
Cardassians, that is not such a great price."
    "My people aren't the ones attempting genocide,"
Kellec said. "Yours are."
    "If we were attempting genocide," Dukat said,
"your people would all be dead by now. Don't you see
that Cardassian rule is better for you than leaving you
to your own devices?"
    "I'm sure it is," Kellec said. "My people are so
happy processing your precious uridium."
    "Please," Narat said. "Please. Both our peoples are
dying. Can't we stop recriminations for a few mo-
ments and just concentrate on saving lives?"
    "It is not in Gul Dukat's nature to save lives,"
Kellec said.
    "That's right," Dukat said sarcastically. "That's
why you're on the station. Because I have not a thread
of compassion in my system."
 "Stop this!" Narat shouted. "Now!"
    Both Dukat and Kellec turned to him. Dukat had
never seen Narat so flustered. Not even when his
medical section was filled with casualties all needing
his attention did Narat look this distressed.
    "We have to find a way to destroy this disease,"
Narat said, "or we will all die. Bajoran, Cardassian, it
doesn't matter. The virus doesn't seem to care. And
neither can we. We have to work together."
    He stood. He was of the same height as Dukat, but
his back was hunched after years of studying and
researching, bending over computers and lab speci-
mens. Narat had served as a field medic, but he had
never been a soldier. His body lacked the rigid disci-
pline that Dukat's had.
    "I know you realize how serious this is," NaraI said
to Dukat, "but I don't think you realize the scale.
People are dying on Bajor as well. It will only be a
matter of time before this spreads to Cardassia Prime.
We may have spread it there in our ore freighters.
Kellec and I do not know, and we can't even hazard a
guess. We don't know how long this thing incubates.
We may have contracted this disease from Bajor
months ago, and may have been spreading it to
Cardassia Prime all this time. Or even farther. We
don't know."
    Dukat took a deep breath. He hadn't thought of
that. "I can't do anything about that," he said. "Cen-
tral Command knows we have sick Bajorans here, and
that the disease has spread to our people. They know
the extent of the disease on Bajor. They will have to
work out the rest of it themselves."
     "I'm not telling you this so that you do anything
 about Cardassia Prime," Narat said, "although if 1
 knew of something you could do, I would tell you. No.
 I'm telling you this because Kellec and I need help.
 We have been treating sick patients and trying to find
 a cure for this disease. We are making progress, but
 it's not enough, and it's not fast enough. The more
 minds we have working on this, the better."

    "You can link with doctors and researchers all over
Cardassia," Dukat said.
    "It's not enough," Kellee said. "We've contacted
Bajor as well, and the physicians there are as tired and
as stumped as we are."
    Dukat sensed they already had a solution. They
were simply preparing him to hear it. Which meant he
wouldn't like it.
    "I have heard rumors," Kellec said, "that the
Federation dealt with a virulent cross-species disease
recently, and found a way to contain it."
    "You heard this--what, a few hours ago, when you
received that wonderfully sweet message from your
ex-wife?"
    Kellec flushed. Good, Dukat thought. The doctor
had gotten a bit too arrogant for Dukat's tastes. It was
good to give him a bit of his own medicine.
    "No." Kellec was obviously struggling to maintain
his composure. "I knew of this before."
 "So why didn't you ask her about it?"
    "Because I thought someone might be listening in,"
Kellec snapped.
    "But," Narat said quickly, "the contact did give us
an idea."
     So, Narat was going to present this idea. And he
was going to present it as his own as well as Kellec's.
  "I'm waiting," Dukat said.
    "Kellec's ex-wife, Dr. Katherine Pulaski, is one of
the Federation's best doctors. She is currently not
assigned anywhere."
    "If she's one of the best, why doesn't she have an
assignment?"
 "She will," Kellec said. "The Federation is arguing
within itself. There's too much demand for her ser-
vices."
  "So how does this apply to us?" Dukat asked.
    "We'd like to bring her here. Have her work with us,
and focus on the research itself," Narat said.
    "No," Dukat said. "I will not have the Federation
here."
    "She wouldn't come as part of the Federation,"
Kellec said. "I could ask her to come for a family
emergency."
    "No," Dukat said again. "She's Federation. And I
will not have them here." How many times did he
have to repeat himself?.
    "Don't say no yet, Dukat," Narat said. "There's
another, quite compelling, reason I think we should
go with this plan."
    Dukat crossed his arms. All he needed was the
Federation to get its hooks into this place. They'd
been looking for ways for years to discredit the
Cardassians. This would be a first step. "What's your
compelling reason?"
 "She's human," Narat said.
 Dukat shrugged.
 "Chances are, she will not get this plague."
 "So?" Dukat asked.
    Narat put a hand on Dukat's arm. "Think of it.
Right now, you have Kellec and me working on a cure
for this disease. We can't keep up with both the
research and caring for the patients. If one of us
succumbs or, even worse, if both of us do, that's
effectively signing a death warrant for you, Terok Nor,
and all of Bajor."
 Dukat stared at Narat's hand until Narat moved it.
"We'll send for someone from Cardassia Prime,
then," Dukat said.
 "But would they come'?"
    Narat's question hung between them for a moment.
Dukat didn't have an answer. Or maybe he did and
didn't want to face it. What would he do, if he were on
Cardassia Prime and making decisions from there?
He wouldn't see the death, wouldn't smell it. The lives
here would be statistics, except for the handful of
people he knew, and even then, he would have to
evaluate their importance to Cardassia. Coldly.
    He closed his eyes. In that situation, he would ask
himself: Is it worth sending a needed doctor or
medical researcher off Cardassia Prime on a mission
that may or may not succeed? Or would he be better
off letting everyone die and letting the plague die with
them? Then, after some time had elapsed and some-
one had discovered a cure, sending in a cleaning crew
and beginning all over again?
    He knew the answer to that. He knew it. He would
do the most efficient job he could, the one that would
bring the best results. If Central Command saw what
this disease did, they would do anything they could to
keep it from coming to Cardassia Prime. They would
help from the surface, but they would not send help. It
would be too dangerous to send help.
    Dukat sighed and opened his eyes. "All right," he
said. "Send for the woman. But do it unofficially, as a
family emergency, just as you suggested."
 "Can she bring assistants?" KeUec asked.
    Dukat glared at him. Kellec was never satisfied,
always wanting more. Always wanting too much.
    "Assistants would be a doctor's first request,"
Narat said. "It would be yet another guarantee."
    Dukat was being manipulated and he knew it. But
he couldn't see any way out of this. He couldn't see
any way at all. At least, not a way he liked. Not a way
that ended in success. This felt like one of his only
chances.
      "I want no more than five Federation people here,
less if possible," he said.  "Good," Narat said.
    "You may not say 'good' after a moment," Dukat
said, "because I have conditions."
    Kellec tilted his head back. Narat held his position,
waiting, like the good Cardassian that he was.
    "First," Dukat said, "they will have access only to
our medical files. Second, they shall be restricted to
the medical areas of Terok Nor only. Third--"
    "That's not possible," Kellec said. "What if the
illness spreads so fast that we can't get the patients
here?"
 "We'll deal with it then," Narat said.
    "Third," Dukat said as if he hadn't been inter-
rupted, "they shall have no contact with the outside
while they're here."
    "But what if they need information they didn't
bring?" Kellec asked.
    Dukat glared at him. "I will not negotiate these
terms."
    "We can deal with special requests on a case-by-
case basis, I assume," Narat said, more to Kellec than
Dukat. "Am I right?"
    Dukat wasn't even willing to make that promise,
although he knew it was probably sensible. "Fourth, if
I suspect even one of them is spying for the Federa-
tion, none of them will leave here alive. Is that clear?"
 "Very," Kellec said.

    "If your ex-wife is willing to come here under those
conditions, then we will be happy to have her," Dukat
said. "But I do not want a Federation ship docking at
Terok Nor. I do not want one in Cardassian space."
    "Then how will she get here?" Kellec asked.
"You've just quarantined the station, so no ships can
come here."
Good question. The man was always thinking.
'Tll have one of the freighter pilots trapped here on
Terok Nor take his ship to meet the Federation vessel
at the border. I'll send a few of my men along to make
sure nothing untoward happens."
"Make sure they're all pilots," Narat said softly.
Dukat felt himself go cold. Narat was right. There
was no guarantee the pilot would live long enough to
ferry their Federation passengers back to Terok Nor.
    "Tell your ex-wife to get here as quickly as possi-
ble," Dukat said. "I'11 handle the travel arrangements
personally. And Kellec?" "Yes?" Kellec said.
    "Don't see this as a victory for the Bajoran people.
I meant what I said about spies. Your Federation help
had better be on their best behavior. I will give no
second chances."
 Kellec had the good sense to only nod.





Chapter Eight

FOR THE SECOND TIME in a few days, Katherine Pulaski
was packing her bags. She was in her quarters on
Deep Space Five. All of her possessions were scattered
about. She had just unpacked, and hadn't had time to
hang her favorite paintings or to place her few sculp-
tures. Her hardcopy books stood on a single shelf,
including the first edition of Sir Arthur Conan
Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories that Data had given
her upon her departure. It was a sentimental gift, and
it had surprised her coming from Data. Apparently
that surprise had shown on her face because he had
tilted his head in that slightly robotic way he had, and
asked, "Is the giving of parting gifts not a human
custom, especially when the recipient will be
missed?"
    "It is, Data," she had said, and then hugged him, to
his surprise and (she had to admit) to her own.

    She stared at that book for a moment, but it would
only add weight. Better to keep it here until she
returned.
  If she returned.
    She had only a few more items to add to her bag,
and very little time in which to do it. Her assistants
would be reporting here before they went to the
docking area to reboard the Enterprise. How strange it
would be to be a guest on the very starship she had
just served on.
    Her hands were shaking, but it was not from fear. It
was a release of tension. Her meeting with Starfleet
Medical had been dicey. Thank heavens the Enter-
prise was still in dry dock. She had needed Beverly
Crusher's help.
    Kellec's request had come in a few hours before. It
was less than Starfleet had hoped for. They wanted to
send in a large team to study the problem, perhaps
work on Bajor. They wanted to use it so that they
could gather more information on both the Bajorans
and the Cardassians, as well as find a solution to this
plague.
    But some Cardassian official had anticipated this.
The restrictions were severe. Pulaski wasn't sure she
could do the work with only a handful of assistants.
At first Starfleet wanted her to wait until they could
get four specialists in plagues and alien diseases to go
with her, but it would take days for the specialists to
arrive from their various posts. She didn't have days.
That was the one thing Kellec had made very clear.
    He wasn't sure he would survive this. The Cardas-
sian doctor who was looking over his shoulder as
Kellec contacted Pulaski didn't look very confident
either. The information she had gotten from them,
purposely sketchy, was awful. They did give her the
death rate on their space station, and it was climbing
by the hour.
    She played the message for Starfleet Medical. Then
she asked that Beverly Crusher accompany her, as
well as the three other ranking medical officers cur-
rently on Deep Space Five.
    Starfleet Medical turned her down. This was a risky
mission, they said. They didn't dare send that many
valued officers.
    Meaning they could sacrifice researchers but mili-
tary medical staff was in short supply.
    Meaning there was a good chance Pulaski and her
team might not come back.
    Starfleet Medical was going to try to negotiate with
the Cardassians--after all, they reasoned, this was a
medical emergency, and working together could bene-
fit everyone--but Pulaski knew that wouldn't work.
She had asked Crusher to come with her to argue for
the high-ranking personnel, which hadn't worked. But
Crusher had argued against negotiation, and on this
Starfleet Medical had listened to their former direc-
tor. They decided--and the Federation representa-
tives agreed--to let Pulaski go in with lower-ranking
assistants.
    The next argument was about whether to bring in
sophisticated equipment that would help send infor-
mation back--not medical information, but informa-
tion on the Cardassians and the Bajorans. Crusher
had proved her worth here too, arguing that such
equipment would jeopardize the lives of those being
sent it.
    "This is a mission of mercy," she had said. "We
need to treat it like one. If Dr. Pulaski and her
colleagues gain information on the Cardassians and
Bajorans as a result, they can be debriefed when they
return."
    If they return. The last sticking point had been
travel arrangements. They were going to use the
Cardassians' plans to get them to Terok Nor, the
space station that Kellec was on, but Pulaski had no
idea how they would be able to leave. She was
supposed to contact the Federation from Terok Nor
when she was ready to go, but she had a hunch that
sounded too easy. And what if she wanted to leave
and they didn't want her to? They had to have a fail-
safe for this, and so far no one had suggested one that
seemed workable.
    Pulaski finished the last of her packing. Amazing
how she could bring her life down to two little
suitcases--one a sophisticated medical kit with
everything she hoped she would need. The other
contained basics like clothing and Kellec's favorite--
hot chocolate. He couldn't get it anymore on Bajor.
    She closed the case just as someone hit the chime
outside her door. "Come in," she said.
    The door slid open and a woman entered. She was
human--all of the team was, a precaution that Kellec
had mentioned and Starfleet Medical had agreed
with. She had blondish brown hair and compassion-
ate eyes. She wore street clothes, just as she had been
ordered to do. They were flowing garments of a gauze-
like material, in a pale blue that became her fair skin.
    "You must be Crystal Marvig," Pulaski said. "Wel-
come."
    "Thank you," Marvig said. She glanced around the
quarters, her gaze falling on the books. "I didn't know
you collected real books."
    "I don't," Pulaski said. "But each of these is
personal to me, in its own way."
    "I love books," Marrig said. "Particularly
twentieth-century literature--you know the kind.
The stuff that predicts the future."
    Pulaski laughed. "I've seen it. It's amazing what
they believed would happen."
    "And how right they could be," Marvig said. She
clasped her hands behind her back. The military
posture didn't go with her relaxed attire.
    "You've been briefed on this mission, I assume,"
Pulaski said.
  "They told me it was a need-to-know."
    Pulaski cursed under her breath. She had wanted
her assistants to know what they were getting into.
"And what did Starfleet Medical believe you need to
know?"
    "That this is a highly sensitive mission, and that it's
quite dangerous."
    "Brief and vague," Pulaski said. "How like them."
She sighed. "Let's wait until Ensign Governo gets
here, and then I'll brief you both."
    "Edgar Governo? He's been assigned to this as
well?" Marvig asked.
  Pulaski nodded. "Do you know him?"
    "We've been serving together here on Deep Space
Five. He's never been on an away mission."
    "Well, this is more complicated than an away
mission," Pulaski said. "I trust they told you to pack
lightly."
    "And to keep suspicious items from my single piece
of luggage, whatever that means."
     Pulaski recited a list of items she believed could
 cause them problems on Terok Nor. Marvig shook her
head at each item. As Pulaski was finishing, the door
chime rang again.
 "Come in," she said.
    Ensign Governo entered. He was a thin young man
with dark hair and intense eyes. He wore his regula-
tion boots beneath black pants, and over a cotton T-
shirt he wore a leather jacket. The effect was retro,
and more stylish than Pulaski had expected. Seeing
Starfleet personnel out of uniform was always a sur-
prise.
    She had met Governo just after her conference with
Starfleet Medical. He was younger than she had would
have thought from his record. He had an amazing gift
for understanding alien physiology; it had gained him
awards and accolades at medical school, and he had
graduated at about the same time as Marvig, who was
older.
    Governo had a small bag slung over his shoulder.
"I'm ready when you are, Doctor." Then, before she
could respond, he saw Marvig standing near the
books. "Crystal!"
    "Edgar." She smiled. It was a warm smile, just the
kind a patient needed to see. Pulaski was glad to see it
too. Compassion and empathy were probably lacking
at Terok Nor. "It looks like we're going on an adven-
ture."
 "Yes," Pulaski said, "you are."
 "Only the three of us?"
    "No. Alyssa Ogawa will join us on the Enterprise.
She's one of the best nurses in the fleet, and I'm
pleased to have her. She'll outrank both of you, and I
want you to listen to her."
 The two of them nodded.
 "Were you briefed at all?" Pulaski asked Governo.
    "I was told that this mission would be difficult and
dangerous," he said, "and that if I had any qualms
about working with infectious disease, I could back
out now without a black mark on my record."
 "That's more than I was offered," Marvig said.
    "Well, I'm offering you more," Pulaski said. "I
want you to know exactly what you're getting into."
    She explained the situation to them, including the
rules the Cardassians placed on their visit. She als0
explained the danger, the difficulties they would have
on a station owned by a people who were not affiliated
with the Federation, and the Federation's conflicting
motives in sending them there.
    "I do not want you to spy," Pulaski said. "You will
be debriefed when you return. Remember all you can.
I'm not even sure you should record anything in your
personal logs--aside from the things you did that
day, or medical notes. We have to be very cautious.
Very cautious."
    "Why are the Cardassians even allowing us to
come?" Governo asked.
    "They didn't say," Pulaski said, "and neither did
Kellec. But I have a guess."
 They waited, staring at her.
    She took a deep breath. "I think they think this
disease is so contagious none of them will be able to
avoid it. I think they're gambling on it not affecting
us, that we'll have a chance of curing it before
everyone dies."
"Wow," Marvig said. "That's a dark view."
Pulaski nodded. "They wouldn't have sent for us
otherwise. The Bajorans have no power over the
Cardassians, and the Cardassians have repeatedly
rebuffed Federation overtures in the past. I think this
request smacks of desperation."
    "I thought we were in negotiations with the Cardas-
sians," Marvig said.
    "We are," Pulaski said, "but they're not going well,
and there are rumors they will fail. For whatever
reason, the Cardassians do not trust the Federation,
and we are representatives of the Federation. That's
why we're going in an unofficial capacity, and that's
what makes this mission even more dangerous."
 "How's that?" Governo asked.
    "If we run into trouble," Pulaski said, "we're on
our own. The Enterprise will be just outside of Car-
dassian space, but she cannot enter it without Cardas-
sian permission, permission they did not give in this
emergency to get us to Terok Nor. I can't imagine that
they would give it to get us out."
    Marvig's face grew pale. "But what if we need to
escape?"
    "We have to be creative," Pulaski said. She stared
at both of them. They were so young. Alyssa Ogawa
was young too, but more experienced. A starship did
that for its crew. "But we have to understand the
risks. The greatest risk for all of us here is that we will
not come out alive."
    "What do you think the chances are of that?"
Governo asked.
    "High," Pulaski said. "I won't lie to you about that.
I think at best we have a fifty-fifty chance of survival."
    "I don't understand," Marvig said. "If we're in
negotiations with the Cardassians, then why would
they kill us?"
 "We don't know what this disease is," Pulaski said.
"And we've never seen the inside of one of their ore-
processing stations. If one of us inadvertently comes
across information that the Cardassians see as sensi.
rive, we could all be punished for it."
    They were staring at her as if it were her fault the
mission was dangerous. Perhaps it was. Perhaps this
wouldn't be happening at all if it weren't for her
relationship with Kellec. But that didn't matter. What
mattered were all those lives being lost.
    "You may back out now," she said, "as long as you
keep what I've told you confidential."
    Governo seemed to be considering what she was
saying, but Marvig jutted out her chin.
    "i joined Starfleet so that I could do more than
practice general medicine in some human colony. I
joined it for the risks," she said. "It wouldn't do my
oath any good to back out now, just when things get
really difficult."
    Governo looked at her as if he were surprised at
what she said. "You're right." He nodded, a crisp,
military move. "I'm a healer first."
    "All right," Pulaski said. "Let's hope that all my
warnings were merely an overreaction to the Cardas.
sians' conditions."
    But in her heart, she knew they weren't. And she
wondered, as she gathered up her things, whether she
had misrepresented the odds to the two before her.
    If anything, she had overestimated their chances of
survival. If all the stories Kellec had told her were to
be believed, she would be surprised if they got off the
station at all.

Chapter Nine

KIRA NERYS STOOD in the heat, sweat plastering her
filthy shirt to her back, her feet swollen inside her
boots. A blister rubbed against the inside of her heel.
These boots were too small, even without the swell-
ing. She had taken themina gift really--from a dying
friend. Amazing, that all they had to give each other
anymore were items of clothing, bits of food, things
that they had once taken for granted.
    Her earring tinkled in the breeze. She had been
wishing for a breeze not too long ago, but it only
seemed to make things hotter. She was outside a rebel
cell, and it wasn't even her cell. That's why they kept
her here, waiting, until they made some decision
about her.
    She stared at the makeshift tents. Whoever ran this
cell didn't plan things real well. They were in a hidden
valley, one that was not on the maps but was pretty
well known in this part of Bajor. The tents were
pitched near a small creek, bone dry in the summer
heat. If she had been in charge of this cell, she would
have had them pitch their tents on the mountainside,
where scraggly trees and boulders would have
provided cover. As it was, if the Cardassians found
this valley now, they would have found the cell.
Not that she was in any position to give advice.
She was here chasing rumors. She had heard of
serious illness to the south, and had actually seen
some of the bodies in a message sent to her by
Shakaar. The problem was that neither she nor
Shakaar had seen them die. There was talk of a
disease, there was talk of a plague, but--so farmno
one in her part of Bajor had seen evidence of it.
  Not that she doubted that it existed.
    She was told that Javi's cell knew more about it,
and she had set up a meeting with one of her contacts.
It had brought her here, a long trip through areas that
weren't friendly to people like her. She was known as
a member of the resistance, and even before last year's
escapade on Terok Nor the Cardassians had been
watching for her. They didn't know she had been to
Terok Nor--the station's constable, Odo, had seen to
that--but they suspected her. They suspected her of
everything, but could never catch her.  Not for want of trying.
    She sighed and ran a hand through her short hair.
She could feel the sweat at the roots. She wished Javi
would hurry. She didn't like waiting in this heat.
    Finally, a woman slipped out of one of the tents.
She wore a ripped dark dress, stained with sweat and
dirt. The poverty here--even among the resistance--
broke Kira's heart.

  "Javi will see you now," the woman said.
    Kira wasn't sure she wanted to go inside the tent. It
had to be even hotter in there. But she climbed up the
small incline to the creekside where the tent was, and
slipped inside.
    She had been right. It was hotter here. The heat felt
old and oppressive, as if it had been accumulating for
days instead of hours. Javi sat cross-legged near his
portable computer systemrathe heart and soul of
each resistance cell, Shakaar had once called those
things. Javi was thinner than he had been the last time
Kira saw him. His skin had the look of malnutrition,
but his eyes were still bright.
    Near him sat Corda, his second in command. She
was taller than Kira and too thin as well. But on her it
looked tough, as if the dry air and the heat and the
lack of food had hardened her skin and made her
more resilient.
    "Sorry to keep you waiting, Nerys." Javi spoke
slowly, as he always had. He had been part of
Shakaar's cell for a brief time, and he had always
irritated Kira with his cautious consideration of each
decision. Apparently he had annoyed Shakaar too,
because one day Kira heard that Javi had left with
some of his own people to form a new cell. They were
on speaking terms, though, and still had the same
goals, unlike some of the resistance cells Kira had
come into contact with. There were some that fright-
ened even her, with their talk of noble suicide and
total destruction.
    "If I had known what it was like in here, Javi," Kira
said, "I would have insisted you keep me waiting
longer."
 Javi shrugged. "You get used to the heat."
    "Maybe you can get used to this heat. I certainly
couldn't."
    "Don't start, Kira," Corda said. "You're not here to
criticize us."
    "And it's a good thing, too, because I think your
campsite is too exposedmyou're putting your entire
cell in jeopardy."
    "But you're not here to tell us that," Corda said
sarcastically.
      "No," Kira said, "I'm not. I'm here because I'm
supposed to confirm some rumors."  "About the plague," Javi said.
    Kira went cold despite the heat. "They're calling it
a plague now?"
    "Hundreds dead, Nerys." Javi's voice was solemn.
"Everyone who comes in contact with this thing gets
ill."
  "Everyone?" Kira asked.
  "In time," Corda said.
  "How have you gotten your information?"
     "Do you mean were we exposed?" Corda asked.
 "No. We've been getting it the same as you have, in
 messages sent through sanitary computers."
     Kira had never liked Corda. And the heat wasn't
 improving Kira's mood. "I'm not here to talk to you."
     "You get to talk to me whether you like it or not,"
 Corda said. "I'm the one who has been following this
 thing and reporting to Javi."
     Kira glared at her for a moment. Corda glared back,
 not at all intimidated.
     "This isn't helping us," Javi said. "We need to work
 together. Nerys has come to us for information, the
 kind, I believe, that isn't easily sent."
     "But Corda just said that you haven't heard any-
 thing that we haven't heard," Kira said.
      "I did not," Corda said. "We've gotten that, and
 we've gotten reports from other sources."
   "Others?"
     "Non-Bajorans. Some of the relief teams not tied to
 the Federation. They seem to be unaffected."
    The relief teams were from charitable organizations
that went to planets they considered not as developed
to help with basics: food, medicine, clothing. Some-
times Kira appreciated their presence, sometimes she
resented them more than she could say. What she
wanted was Federation intervention, to stop this
occupation by the Cardassians. But the Federation
had rules and regulations, things she had never both-
ered to understand, and those rules and regulations
didn't seem to apply to Bajor, although some people
were telling her to be cautious with her tongue, that
some day the Federation might come through.
    She would believe that when she saw Bajorans
move around unfettered on their own planet.
    "What are they doing to stop this thing?" Kira
asked.
  "What they can," Corda said.
    "Most of them are volunteers, Nerys, with no more
medical training than we have." Javi sounded tired.
Kira wondered how much power he had ceded in this
cell to Corda, and how long it would be before she
took the group too far. "They provide comfort where
they can, but they can't do much."
    "They are sure it's a disease, then?" Kira asked.
"Shakaar wasn't. He thought maybe it was a Cardas-
sian trick to get us focused in the wrong direction."
    "It's a disease, all right," Javi said. "But it might
also be a Cardassian trick."
 Kira frowned. "What do you mean?"
    "The disease is too virulent." Javi's words hung
between them.
    KJra's chill grew deeper. She wiped sweat off her
forehead. "Not even the Cardassians would do some-
thing this monstrous," she said.
  "Do you actually believe that?" Corda asked.
      Kira wasn't sure. "If we're talking about a disease
that infects everyone who comes in contact with it--"
  "We are," Corda said.
    "--then we're talking genocide." Kira swallowed.
"The Cardassians have always made it plain that they
see us as a lesser species, as people who 'benefit' from
their rule, as slaves to work in their various mines and
processing plants. But not as creatures to be wiped out
of existence."
  "They've always wanted Bajor," Corda said.
    "Yes--but with its Bajoran population." Kira
wiped the sweat off her face.
  "Get her something to drink," Javi said to Corda.
  "Butw"
  "Now," Javi said.
  Corda sighed and got up, sliding past Kira.
     "I'm sorry, Nerys," Javi said. "I know you don't
 much like Corda. But you must listen to her. She has
 run this cell, for the most part, since last fall."
     Kira glanced over her shoulder. Corda was out of
 the tent. "I'm just worried, Javi," Kira said. "She
 didn't always understand the complexities of the
 Occupation."
     Javi smiled. "Once I could have said that about
 you."
     Kira looked at him. "Why is she running every-
 thing, Javi? What's going on?"
     "The Cardassians had me for a while, Nerys. We're
 just beginning to bring me back to health. The tents
 are here not because Corda thinks it's a good spot, but
 because my body can hardly tolerate thin air at the
 higher elevations. Even this valley is difficult for me.
 We should really move on, now that the creek is dry,
 but the cell has opted to stay with me. I've tried to
 order them to leave, but they won't."
   Kira threaded her hands together.
   "Corda loves me," he said.
    "And is making the wrong decisions for the cell
because of it," Kira said.
    Javi nodded. "We agree on that. But they're not life-
threatening. Not yet, anyway. And I'm nearly mo-
bile--I think we can get out of here soon. But do me a
favor, Nerys. Listen to her. And don't fight her. This
Cardassian threat is too great for us to be fighting
amongst ourselves."
    Kira let out the breath she hadn't realized she had
been holding. Javi was right, of course, and she knew
it. But she had disliked Corda for a very long time. It
was hard to set aside that kind of antipathy, even
now.
  "All right," Kira said.
    "Good." Javi placed his hands on the ground
behind him and rested his weight on them. "I hope
she brings me something as well. You're giving me an
appetite again, Nerys. That's a good thing."
Kira laughed. "I've been accused of worse, I guess."
"What's he accusing you of?" Corda asked as she
came in. She was carrying a tray with three mugs. She
handed one to Kira. It was moba fruit juice, and
somehow they had found a way to keep it cool in all
this heat.
    Kira took a sip, and relished the bittersweet cold-
ness. Corda handed Javi his mug, and he sat forward,
taking it in both hands as if it weighed too much for
him. Kira wondered if his prediction was wrong, if he
wasn't getting better at all.
    "He's been yelling at me to listen to you," Kira
said. "He says you've changed."
    Corda glanced at Javi as if he had betrayed a
confidence. He was looking at the mug he was drink-
ing from and didn't seem to notice.
    "Whether I've changed or not shouldn't matter,"
Corda said. "What does matter is what's happening.
You don't believe the Cardassians can commit geno-
cide. I do."
    "I didn't say that," Kira said. "I said it's not in their
best interest to kill us all."
    Corda sat down, cradling her own mug in one hand.
"But what if it is now? What if they no longer need us
for all those jobs Cardassians refuse to do? What if
they've finally found a way to automate the most
dangerous tasks?"
    Kira stared at her. It was possible. It was even
probable.
  "Now tell her the rest," Javi said.
     Corda set her mug down. "We don't know for
 certain."
     "Tell her," Javi said. "If you're going to do this
 right, tell her all you know. In every case."
     Maybe Corda hadn't changed after all. Maybe Javi
 only believed she had. Maybe he had no other choice.
 Kira waited for whatever "the rest" was.
    "We've heard," Corda said, "through less reputable
sources, that Cardassians are dying of this also."
    "That's not possible," Kira said. "They've always
1orded their superior physiology over us, saying
they're not vulnerable to Bajoran diseases. How could
that change?"
"Do you believe all Cardassian lies?" Corda asked.
"That one I do," Kira said. "I've seen Bajorans die
of horrible diseases, and never once have I seen a
Cardassian get sick like that."
"Maybe they don't allow their people to get sick."
"And maybe it's the truth," Kira said. "If they got
sick, we would have seen it. I've been in places where I
know I would have seen it." She set her mug down as
well, although she was reluctant to give up the last of
the juice. "Maybe you're the one who is believing the
lie. Maybe the Cardassians are the ones spreading the
rumors that Cardassians are getting sick. That would
make this illness look like an innocent virus instead of
something the Obsidian Order dreamed up."
    Javi smiled slightly. He was still the only one
drinking. "See why we needed to hear from Kira?" he
asked Corda. "Neither of us thought of that."
    Corda's lips thinned. "We can't operate on supposi-
tion."
 "I agree," Kira said.
    "What we have heard is that a few Cardassians here
have gotten ill, but they've been spirited away so fast
that no one can confirm that it's the same disease. A
few of the rumors say it's not. The Cardassians turn
green and their scales flake off--or so they say. And
Bajoran victims look even healthier than they did
before they got sick, so maybe it's not related at all."
 "But we don't know," Kira said.
    "That's right," Corda said. "We don't know. And I
have no idea how we could find out."
    "Where were the Cardassians taken ill?" Kira
asked.
    "In the same regions where the Bajorans were
sick," Corda said. "And a Ferengi said that he saw
some green Cardassians on Terok Nor."
    "Ferengi can't be trusted," Kira said. "They can be
paid to give false information."
    Corda nodded. "The problem is that, if my sources
on Bajor are right, the sick Cardassians here have
already been sent away."
  "To Cardassia Prime?"
    "I don't think so. But it doesn't matter. We have no
idea where they've gone."
    Kira frowned. "Just before I came here, I'd heard
that Gul Dukat just gave an order that no outside
ships were to arrive on or leave Terok Nor."
    Corda's gaze met hers. Javi set down his mug.
"Now we're getting somewhere."
    "I didn't think much of it, until you mentioned the
station."
    "Dukat wouldn't care about his Bajoran prison-
ers," Corda said. "But he would care if Cardassians
were getting ill."
    "And even if he didn't, Central Command would
order him to shut down operations if the Cardassians
had a disease that spreads the way you described."
  They stared at each other.
  "What if it's a different disease?" Corda asked.
  "What if it's not?" Javi asked.
    "It doesn't matter," Kira said. "I'd been thinking of
going to Terok Nor anyway."
  "What? Nerys, what are you talking about?"
    She turned to him and took his hand. It was cold
from the mug, but the skin was dry and his bones felt
thin beneath her fingers. He had lied to her. She had
seen starvation victims before--the ones who sur-
vived but were never really healthy again. He
wouldn't live long, and it wouldn't take a designer
virus to kill him. A simple cold would do it.
    "I've been to Terok Nor before, Javi," she said.
"Just last year, I was there getting information for the
resistance. It's dangerous, but it's possible to get
around."
  "Why would you go?"
    "I was planning to go for a completely different
reason," she said. "If the rumors of the disease among
the Bajorans proved to be true, and now after talking
with you I believe they are, I was going to Terok Nor
to bring Dr. Kellec Ton home."
  "What's Ton doing there?" Corda asked.
    Kira glanced at her. She hadn't expected Corda to
be familiar with Kellec Ton.
    "Apparently, Gul Dukat sent for him a month ago.
Dukat claimed his precious workers needed better
health care, which I think is unlikely. Dukat has never
cared for anyone. His production must have been
down or something."
    "Or perhaps this disease started on Terok Nor,"
Javi said, "and that's why he sent for Kellec."
    "Maybe," Kira said. "But it didn't sound like that. I
talked to Kellec before he went. He was going to see
what he could do to further the resistance on Terok
Nor. He was also going to use his free time to find
weaknesses in the station, maybe a way for the
resistance to get the Bajoran workers out of there."
 "We don't have the ships for that," Corda said.
    Kira shook her head. "You need to choose someone
else to lead this cell after you, Javi."
    "I don't appreciate all your insults, Kira," Corda
said.
    "I shouldn't have to tell you about the benefits of a
quick and dirty surprise operation. We may not have
big, powerful ships like the Cardassians, but we can
slip in and out of any place, and with the right plan,
we could get workers off Terok Nor."
    Corda's smile was cruel. "Just don't pick Kira to
relieve me, Javi," she said. "Kira has no idea about
the realities of war."
 "You don't know--"
    "Ladies!" Javi said tiredly. "We fight Cardassians,
not each other." He ran that thin hand along the side
of his face, tugging at his earring. "Maybe that
wouldn't be a bad mission, Nerys. Going to Terok
Nor. You could find out if the Cardassians were ill,
and if they were you could report back. But bring
Kellec home."
 "If he wants to come."
    Javi nodded. "One more thing. I've been studying
the information we've received. It's only a matter of
time before everyone on Bajor gets ill if this is as bad
as it seems. And so far, whoever has gotten ill has
died."
 Even in the heat, Kira couldn't suppress a shiver.



Chapter Ten

NOG WAS SITTING on the bar, his feet dangling over the
edge. He was kicking the front with one heel, then the
other, with no apparent rhythm at all. Quark didn't
know what was worse, the boy's idleness, his disre-
gard for the bar's rules, or the constant bang, bang,
bang echoing in his ears.
    "Do something useful," Quark said, shoving Nog
as he passed. "And get off my bar."
"There's nothing useful to do, uncle," Nog said.
"There's always something useful." Quark picked
up a dirty glass off one of the empty tables. Three
groups of Cardassians sat at various tables, but they
certainly didn't look as if they were celebrating. They
were at least drinking--to excess, always a problem
with Cardassians. Not that Quark could blame them.
If there was really a disease going around that was
going to make him turn green (which was only one
step down from that hideous Cardassian gray), he'd
probably start drinking too.
    Or leave. Sneak off. Find somewhere else where the
threat of death wasn't hanging over everything. He
might do that anyway. He'd hardly had any customers
in the last few days.
"But what, uncle?" Nog asked, still on the bar.
"For one thing," Quark said, "you can get off my
bar. Then you can polish it from top to bottom with
an earbrush."
  "You're not serious."
    "I've never been more serious," Quark said. "And
remember, you'll do that every time you sit on my
bar."
    "You could have told him that sitting on the bar
wasn't allowed, brother." Rom had apparently come
out of their quarters. He wore a hat the Volian
dressmaker had made him. It was made of some
stretchy black material and molded itself to Rom's
skull. It made his head look smaller, but at least it hid
his ears.
    "I would have thought sitting on the bar would be
an obvious mistake, wouldn't you?" Quark asked.
    "Actually, no," Rom said. "Rules are easier to
follow if they're clear."
"Like not spilling things on the customers?"
"Are you ever going to forget that?" Rom asked.
"Not as long as you wear that silly hat." Quark
brought the glass around back and set it beside Nog.
"And wash this too, while you're at it."
    Nog jumped off the bar, picked up the glass and
started for their quarters.
    "I want that bar shiny within the hour!" Quark
called after him.
    Nog didn't respond. He disappeared into the dark-
ness as if he hadn't heard.
     "I mean it, Rom," Quark said. "I want that bar
cleaned in the next hour--" "I'll do it," Rom said.
    "--by Nog. He has to learn too." Quark sighed and
surveyed the bar. He hated this quiet. The Cardassi-
ans were panicked and Gul Dukat had ordered that
no more ships of any type could dock on Terok Nor.
So not only were the Cardassians dwindling, thanks to
disease and general fear, but the others who came
through here, the suppliers, traders, and shadier types
weren't appearing either. Quark's supply of Saurian
brandy was getting low, and so were some of his more
popular but hard-to-find items.
    Rom scratched the top of his head. "Brother, do I
have to wear this hat? It itches."
    "Yes, you have to wear the hat," Quark snapped.
Then he lowered his voice. "I can't have you serving
customers with that blister on your ear."
    Rom's hand went involuntarily to his right ear and
Quark turned away in disgust. Nothing, ever, would
get the memory of that out of his brain. Rom said it
didn't hurt, but it was the ugliest thing Quark had
ever seen. It served Rom right for the mistakes he had
made earlier--and for not telling Quark that he was
allergic to Jibetian beer.
    Who knew what that horrible mixture of fluids had
done to Rom's ears, anyway? The ears of Ferengi were
their most sensitive spot. If an allergic reaction was
going to start, it would start there. And Rom's allergy
to Jibetian beer was bad enough, apparently, to have
put him in sickbay on a freighter when he was a young
man. Of course, Quark had been long gone by then
and hadn't known about it. And Rom, typically,
hadn't bothered to tell him, even when he knew he'd
be working around the stuff.
    "There aren't that many customers, brother," Rom
said. "Perhaps it would be better if you waited on
them yourself."
    "You're right," Quark said. "Perhaps it would be
better. Then I wouldn't have to pay you."
 "But brother, how will Nog and I live?"
    "Good question," Quark said. "And the answer is
not very well if you refuse to do the work you're
assigned. Now, go see if those tables need refills."
    Rom tugged the hat. Quark could see the blister
as an added lump on Rom's ear. Quark grimaced
in distaste. How the Volian had managed to make
a hat while looking at that ear was beyond Quark.
And of course, Quark had had to pay for it. Rom
didn't have any latinum yet; Quark was keeping
track of all of these expenses in his ledger, but he had
no idea how expensive the whole proposition was
going to be. Rom had arrivedmwith Nogmand then
the bar's business had dropped off. Who knew how
much an eleven-year-old would eat? And constantly.
It was as if he was going to grow as tall as a
Cardassian. Or more likely, as ifRom hadn't fed him
well before.
    Rom reached the first table. Three Cardassians sat
there, bent over their glasses as if their posture would
protect them from the virus floating around the
station. One of the Cardassians shook his head as
Rom spoke to him. Rom smiled and bobbed a little,
then backed away.
 He stopped at the second table. There the Cardas-

sian, one of the pilots who had poured liquor on Rom,
said in a loud voice, "If you're trying to protect your
skull from getting drenched, you'd better make sure
that hat is waterproof."
    "No, actually," Rom said. "I'm allergic to Jibetian
beer and--"
 "Rom!" Quark shouted.
 "--I break out--"
 "Rom!"
 "--so I'm wearing this hat--"
 "Rom!"
 Rom looked up. "Brother, I--"
    "One more word," Quark said, "and I will fire
you."
    Rom put a hand to his mouth. The Cardassian
laughed. Rom made his way through the tables and
leaned across the bar.
    "I'm sorry, brother," he whispered. "But if I can't
talk, how can I take orders?"
    "One more word about the ear," Quark said slowly,
as if he were speaking to a child. "Make up a story
about the stupid hat. A story that doesn't involve
pus."
 "Sorry, brother," Rom said.
    Nog came out of the quarters, clutching an ear-
brush in his left hand. Quark's earbrush. His best
earbrush, the one with the real scagsteeth bristles.
    "Nice try," Quark said, "but you use your own
brush."
 "He doesn't have one, brother."
 "Then he can use yours," Quark said.
 "He does anyway."
    That was it. That was all it took. Quark's stomach
actually somersaulted.
"Or I did," Nog said, "until Dad got that--"
"Enough? Quark shouted. "Enough! No one is
ever going to mention that again. Do you hear me? No
one!"
    All of the Cardassians stared at him as if he had
gone crazy. The second group, the one that included
the pilot that had been harassing Rom, seemed a bit
bleary-eyed, and Quark realized they were drunker
than he had initially thought they were. Getting them
out of the bar would be difficult. Not that it mattered.
He hardly had anyone in the bar as it was.  
"I heard you, brother," Rom said.
    That brought Quark back to himself. He turned
toward Nog. "You, young man, you put my earbrush
back and never touch it again. I don't share ear-
brushes with anyone, and I don't let just anyone touch
them." Then he glared at Rom. "How could you? Not
buying your own son an earbrush."
    "He had one," Rom said. "He forgot it when we left
Ferenginar, and I--"
    "Didn't have enough latinurn to buy him a new
one, I know," Quark said. "Believe me, I know."
    He shook his head. How did it always end up that
he was the one who paid for everything? He sighed.
    "Get yourself an earbrush, Nog, but for now, use
your Dad's." Then Quark thought of that blister, and
all the germs it carried. "Never mind. Don't after all.
C~t a cleaning cloth. But I still want the bar spit-
polished. You understand?"
 "You want me to spit on it?" Nog asked.     ,
    "No," Quark said. "It's a military term. I just want
it so polished that it shines. Is that clear?"
 Nog nodded. Why did everything become an im-
possible task with these two? Running the bar was
suddenly three times harder.
    The first group of Cardassians got up and left their
tables, mumbling something about sleep. The second
group was still huddled over their drinks. He could
barely see the third group, but they seemed to be deep
in conversation.
    Customers leaving and none entering. Things
couldn't get any worse.
    Quark took a padd. He would inventory his alcohol
one last time, and hope it lasted--of course, with this
drop in business, it would last easily. He glanced at
Rom.
 "Just go away," he said.
    "But brother, I haven't asked the other table if they
wanted more to drink."
 "Ask them, and then go away."
"Where are the cleaning cloths, uncle?" Nog asked.
Five times more work, Quark thought. At least.
Rom walked over to the last table. The drunken
Carrussians at the second table cat-called him in soft
tones. Quark didn't pay attention to what they were
saying. He told Nog where the cloths were and was
about to get back to his inventory when a Cardassian
at the third table stood up.
    He was green, like so many others had been in the
last few days. Quark knew now that that was the
beginning of the disease. He had been denying service
to anyone who was green, but apparently the Cardas-
sian had changed shades while he was in here.
    The Cardassian raised a hand, looked at Rom, and
toppled over backwards. His companions didn't seem
to notice. Neither did the drunks at the next table.
    Quark walked over. The Cardassian was on his
back, moaning, a hand on his stomach. The other
three at his table had passed out but they, at least,
were a normal gray.
  "Brother," Rom said. "We need to call for help."
  "Oh no we don't," Quark said.
  "But, he's--"
    Quark put a hand over Rom's mouth. "I'm going to
ban you from ever speaking in this place again."
    "Bashender?" One of the Cardassians at the other
table said. "You got any blood wine?"
    "Yes," Quark said, even though what he had proba-
bly wasn't any good. He just didn't want the Cardas-
sian looking at him.
  "Get me shome," the Cardassian said.
  "Nog!" Quark shouted. "Blood wine?"
  "What?" Nog asked.
    "Blood--oh, never mind." Quark turned to Rom
and said very softly, "Stay right here, and cover his
face."
    "With what?" Rom asked, but by then Quark was
already gone. He got the blood wine, and brought it
back to the drunks.
    "You know," he said to them, "you gentlemen look
like you could use a free hour in a holosuite. Why
don't you come with me?"
    "Free?" Rom asked. "Brother, have you lost your
mind?"
    "What did I say to you about talking?" Quark
snapped. He helped the Cardassians up, and guided
them away from the sick Cardassian. He was careful
to keep their backs to him, by talking to them the
whole way, expounding the virtues of the various
programs, hoping that Nog wasn't listening too
closely to some of the programs.
    He got them up the stairs and into one of the suites,
the door closed behind them. Then he came back
down the stairs.
    The Cardassian's companions had well and truth-
fully passed out.
 "What should we do?" Rom asked.
 "Take his feet," Quark said.
 "We're carrying him to the medical section?"
    "Are you nuts?" Quark asked. "That's what medi-
cal people do."
 "Then why aren't you calling them?"
    "Why are you still talking?" Quark asked. "Pick up
his feet."
    Rom walked to the Cardassian's booted feet. "Can
we get this disease?"
  "If anyone can, you can," Quark mumbled.
  "What?" Rom asked.
  "No, we can't," Quark said.
  "How do you know?"
  "Because we would have had it by now."
    "They don't have it," Rom said, looking at the
three passed out at the table.
      "Ferengi don't get Cardassian diseases," Quark
said, although he had no idea if that was true.
 "Oh," Rom said. "Are you sure?"
 "Positive."
    "All right, then," Rom said, and crouched. He
grabbed the Cardassian's feet and lifted them.
    "Nog," Quark said. "Keep a lookout. Let me know
if you see any Cardassians or Odo."
  "Odo?" Nog asked.
    "The obnoxious shape-shifter who has been harass-
ing me"--then Quark realized that Odo hadn't been
in the bar in almost a week. "Never mind. Just let me
know if you see anyone."
    "All fight," Nog said, and bent over the bar,
continuing his polishing.
    "At the door, Nog," Quark said. "Go to the door.
Like a lookout."
  "Oh," Nog said. "You didn't say that."
  "What do I have to do? Put it in writing?"
  "That might help," Rom said.
  "Shut up."
    Nog scrambled to the door. He stood there like a
small sentry, looking just like Rom had at that age.
Sincere, honest, clueless. Quark sighed. He hoped
Nog understood what he was looking for.
    "Brother..." Rom said, still holding the Cardas-
sian's feet.
    Quark nodded. He picked up the Cardassian by the
armpits, and nearly staggered under the weight. Who
knew that Cardassians were so heavy? Or that they
smelled like this? Up close, the Cardassian's green
skin looked even more noxious. His scales were
flaking. Quark's stomach, already queasy thanks to
Rom's ear blister, threatened to revolt.
    "I don't know how much longer my back can take
this, brother," Rom said.
    Quark didn't know how much longer his stomach
could take it either. "All right," he said, "here goes."
    He stumbled backward, kicking a chair as he went.
The Cardassian's butt dragged on the ground, his
uniform leaving a polished streak mark on the dirty
floor.

    "Everything I do creates more work," Quark mum-
bled.
 "What?" Rom said.
 "Nothing. Just lift him higher."
 "I can't, brother."
"You could if you weren't holding his feet."
"What do you suggest?" Rom asked. "His knees?"
They were halfway to the door. Quark wanted this
guy out of the bar as quickly as possible. If he made
Rom switch positions, quickly might not happen.
  "No," Quark said. "Let's just keep going."
     At that moment he backed into another table. Pain
ran along his spine and he bit back a curse. 
"Are you all right, brother?" Rom asked.
    "Fine," Quark said, and moved around the table.
Why did he have so much furniture in here in the first
place? What had he been thinking?
    The strain on his arm muscles was almost too
much. He felt sweat run down the side of his face, get
caught on his lobe, and work its way into his ear. It
was his own fault for thinking the day couldn't get any
worse.
    He glanced over his shoulder. Nog was still at the
door, looking out into the Promenade. Apparently he
didn't see anything, or he would have said so. Right?
  "Nog," Quark whispered. "Is it clear?"
  "What?"
  "The Promenade. Is there anyone there?"
    Nog took a step farther out, which did nothing to
bolster Quark's confidence. Then he turned back to
Quark. "Yes."
    Quark nodded at Rom. "This is the last leg," Quark
said.
    "I hope so," Rom said. "Is it my imagination or is
he beginning to smell worse?"
    It wasn't Rom's imagination. The Cardassian was
beginning to smell like a Klingon meal made by a bad
cook. Quark moved as fast as he could. He was still
looking over his shoulder as he went through the
doors. It wasn't that he didn't trust Nog. Or maybe it
was.
    The Promenade was mostly empty. The doors to
the restaurants and stores were open, but there were
no clients. The Volian sat in the window of his tailor's
shop, working on an outfit, but he didn't appear to be
looking up. Quark thought he saw something shim-
mer near the door to the bar, but when he focused on
it, he saw nothing at all.
  "Clear," he whispered.
  "What?" Rom asked.
"Is that blister making you deaf?" Quark snapped.
"I hope not." Rom brought a hand to his ear, and
the Cardassian tipped sideways. The Cardassian's
foot bounced loudly on the floor. Quark nearly col-
lapsed under his weight.
    "Will you do your job?" Quark snapped. "Pick up
the foot. Pick it up."
  "Where are we going with him?"
    "Just behind that post," Quark said, nodding in the
opposite direction from the VolJan's store. They were
getting close to the second floor balcony, but he didn't
see anyone there either. And he would have to take
the risk.
    They also couldn't leave a polished streak running
from the Cardassian to the interior of the bar.
 "Wait!" Quark said. "Nog, grab the Cardassian."
 "Me?"

 "Do you see anyone else named Nog?"
    Nog came over, rubbing his hands together. His
small face was squinched in an expression of disgust.
"Where do you want me to hold him?"
    "Where do you think?" Quark asked. "He can't be
touching the ground."
    Nog gave him the most pitiful expression Quark
had ever seen. "I can't."
    "You will or I'll make you clean the bar with your
head skirt every day this week."
 "You can't do that!" Nog said. "It isn't sanitary."
 "Then I'll make you sanitize it after you're done."
    "Don't underestimate him, son," Rom said. "Re-
member the drinks." And he reached for his ear.
    "No!" Quark said too late. The foot bounced again,
but this time Nog had grabbed the Cardassian's
midsection.
    "I want to go back to Ferenginar," Nog said.
"Maybe I can live with Moogie."
      Rom struggled to reach the foot without dropping
the other one. Quark thought his arms would break.
  "Moogie wouldn't treat me like this."
    "Moogie would hide you in a closet," Quark said.
"She has dreams of finding a better mate, and the last
thing she needs is a grandson hanging around so that
people know her age."
    Rom got the foot. He nodded. "I promise I won't
drop it again."
    "Good," Quark said. "Or Narat will think broken
ankles are part of this disease."
    "You think I broke his ankle?" Rom said. "I didn't
mean to. I mean--"
    "No, I don't think you broke his ankle," Quark
said. "But I might break yours soon."
    They carried the Cardassian into the Promenade.
Their footsteps echoed on the floor. Quark had never
heard the Promenade echo before.
    It was onty a few meters to the post Quark had seen,
but it felt like they had to travel light-years. When
they reached it, and Quark gave the okay, all three
dropped him at the same time. It sounded as if
something exploded on the Promenade.
  "Come on!" Quark said and ran for the bar.
    "But, brother, what about the medical staff?" Rom
was keeping up with him. So was Nog.
    "You call them," Quark said. "But you will not
mention the bar, got that? Tell them--oh, never
mind. I'll do it."
    They got inside and Quark slipped behind the bar.
Before he contacted anyone, he was going to wash his
hands. They felt sticky with sweat, and something
else. Germs, probably. Virus. Possible infection.
    He grimaced. He had a hunch things were going to
continue to get worse. Much, much worse. And he
doubted they would ever get better again.



Chapter Eleven

THE CARDASSIAN CREW piloting the freighter didn't
mix with its passengers. Pulaski, Govemo, Marvig,
and Ogawa were confined to a small area that had
once served as the crew's mess. The tables were bolted
to the floor. The walls were a gunmetal gray, undeco-
rated, and the room smelled of stale food Pulaski
couldn't identify. There were no portholes, so she
couldn't see the stars, but the freighter ran relatively
smoothly, so she also couldn't feel the hum of the
engines. It felt as if she were in a room on Cardassia
Prime instead of in a freighter heading toward Terok
Nor.
    Her team was already working. Governo was bent
over his research padd, reading about infectious dis-
eases. Marrig was studying Cardassian physiology,.
Ogawa was supposed to be looking in the files to see if
there was any previous history of cross-contamination
 between these two species, but she wasn't. She was
 staring at the walls, much as Pulaski was doing.
    Alyssa Ogawa was slender, with dark hair and dark
eyes, as human as the rest of them. Pulaski hadn't
planned on putting together a completely human
team, but Starfleet Medical thought it for the best.
The less the Cardassians had to object to--and they
would probably object to every species that arrived on
Terok Nor--the better.
    Pulaski was glad to have Ogawa for several reasons.
The first and most important was that they had
worked well together on the Enterprise. The second
was that Ogawa was familiar with Bajoran physiology.
The third was that she was the best nurse Pulaski had
served with in her entire time in Starfleet.
    Ogawa was also fairly level emotionally, and Pulas-
ki would need that. Kellec wasn't, and even though
Pulaski usually was, one of the things that had caused
their marriage to dissolve was that Kellec could pull
her into his moods. Ogawa would help Pulaski keep
her own sense of self. She wasn't sure about the other
two; since she had never worked with them before,
she didn't know if they would be calm or highly
volatile. Nothing in their personnel histories sug-
gested any problems along those lines, so the best
Pulaski could do was hope.
    The group had managed the trip well so far. Cap-
tain Picard had strained the Enterprise's engines
getting her to the border of Cardassian space within
sixteen hours of Pulaski's appointment. He would
continue to patrol the area, waiting for her signal, for
the next two weeks. If she didn't come out by then,
another starship would take its place. The area would
be patrolled indefinitely--or so Pulaski had been
told. She doubted that Starfleet would continue to
expend such resources for four officers, albeit good
and valuable ones, much longer than a month. She
had mentioned that to Captain Picard and he had
looked away from her ever so briefly, as he had done
when he told her that Beverly Crusher was returning
to the Enterprise.
    I am afraid I have been told the plan for the next two
weeks. The other starship will wait at least as long, but
you know as well as I do, Doctor, that things change
within our universe in an instant. Should something
happen and the Enterprise must leave ahead of sched-
ule, I shall get a message to you, and we shall make
certain you have a way off Terok Nor.
    She had thanked him, of course, but they both knew
that she was taking a great personal risk. Starfleet
could only support that risk so far, and then she was
on her own.
    She sighed and stood up. She had forgotten how
warm Cardassians liked their ships. She had forgotten
a lot about them. How big they were, on average, and
how disconcerting it was to see that gray skin--a
color she associated with illness. Governo mentioned
how reptilian he thought they were; she had forgotten
that he had never seen a Cardassian before. That was
why she gave him the assignment to study their
physiology.
    The room they placed the group in was getting
smaller by the minute. Pulaski hated waiting. The
Cardassian pilot had told her the trip would only take
a few hours. She took that to mean three. It had been
four, and she felt that was too long. She did know the
freighter was operating at its highest speed, trying to
get her to Terok Nor.
    The Cardassians on board, the pilot and the hand-
ful of others, whom she could only think of as guards,
had obviously been instructed not to talk to the
group. The pilot had looked uncomfortable just tell-
ing Pulaski their arrival time. When she had asked for
information on the plague, he had stared at her. When
she pushed, he had said, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm a
pilot, not a doctor."
    She had let the topic drop after that. She would find
out all the pertinent information soon enough.
    The door to the mess opened. She turned. One of
the Cardassian guards stood in the doorway.
    "We're about to dock on Terok Nor. Gather your
things."
    As he spoke, the entire freighter rumbled ever so
slightly. Ogawa glanced over at Pulaski. They were the
two used to being on board ship, and they both
recognized the sensation. The freighter wasn't about
to dock. It had docked.
    Governo put his pard in his duffel. Marvig closed
her research. Ogawa's was already put away. The three
of them stood. Pulaski grabbed her two bags and
walked to the Cardassian. "I guess it's time," she said.
  He nodded.
    He led them down a dark and dirty corridor, with
dim lighting that made the gunmetal-gray walls seem
black. Even the air here seemed thick and oily.
Pulaski had to walk swiftly to keep up with him.
    "Have you been to Terok Nor since the plague
started?" she asked.
 "No one's calling it a plague," he said.
 That was more than she got out of the pilot.
 "Have you?" she asked.
 "We were told we were quarantined on Terok Nor.
We were surprised to be assigned to pick you up." His
voice was flaL He wasn't speaking softly, but the net
effect, from his tone to his demeanor, was one of
secrecy. For some reason he had decided to talk with
her.
"How long have you been trapped on Terok Nor?"
"A week." He ducked into another dark corridor. It
felt to Pulaski as if they were going in circles, but she
knew they weren't.
 "That's not very long."
 "It is when most of your friends are dying."
    Ah, so there it was. The reason he was speaking to
her. "And you don't have the disease?"
    "I probably do," he said. "I'm going to die like the
rest of them."
    "Surely you can't believe that," she said. "One
must always have hope."
    "Hope?" he said. "You'll forget the meaning of the
word after you've spent a day on Terok Nor."
    He opened one last door, and pointed. Through the
airlock, she saw a series of huge, round doors, shaped
like giant gears in an ancient machine. The Cardas-
sian pressed a button and the doors rolled back,
clanging as they did so, one at a time.
    Her door opened first. She stepped through the
aifiock onto the docking platform, and then another
door rolled back, and she was in Terok Nor.
    The heat didn't surprise her, but a faint odor of rot
did. Space-station filtration systems should take care
of smells, unless the odor was so pervasive nothing
could be done about it.
    She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder at
her Cardassian guide, but his warning rang in her ears
 like an old Earth curse: Abandon hope all ye who enter
 here.
     She did look around her for her team. Governo was
 at her side, Ogawa and Marvig were behind her. They
 looked as serious as she felt.
    Pulaski stepped out the final door into the corridor.
The ceiling was higher here than on the freighter, and
the place was clean. It was still decorated in Cardas-
sian gray, however. Didn't they understand the value
of a well-placed painting? Or even a nicely designed
computer terminal?
    The corridor did seem to extend forever, however,
despite the branches off it. Another feature of Car-
dassian design, she assumed. At least poor lighting
wasn't part of the design here. The lights were bright
enough in this corridor to show that these walls were
clean.
    Behind her someone cleared his throat. She turned.
Three Cardassians blocked the corridor. She had been
so intent on her destination that she hadn't looked
both ways when she came out the door, and she had
turned in the wrong direction.
    Two of the Cardassians stood a few steps behind the
Cardassian in the middle. He was taller than the
others, his shoulders broader, and his face thinner.
His eyes had an intelligence that made her wary. With
his strange ridges, that sickly gray color to his skin,
and those bright eyes, he looked like a particularly
charming reptile, the kind that smiled before inflict-
ing its poisonous bite.
    In fact, he was smiling now. "Doctor Katherine
Pulaski?" he asked. He had a warm, seductive voice
that seemed, to her, completely at odds with his
appearance.

 "Yes," she said.
    "I'm Gul Dukat. I run Terok Nor. We're pleased
you could come here on such short notice." As if she
were coming for a dinner party or to give a speech.
    "If you'll point the way, my assistants and I will get
right to work."
    "First," he said, "I thought we'd get you to your
quarters and give you a short tour of our facility.
Then we'll take you to the medical section."
    She drew a sharp breath. No wonder the Bajorans
hated the Cardassians. How insensitive was this man?
And then she realized what he was doing. He saw her
as a representative of the Federation first, a doctor
second. He didn't want her first impression of his
station to be one of illness and death.
    Governo stepped up beside her, and was about to
speak. She put a hand on his arm, and shoved him
backwards. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw
Marvig take him and hold him back. That answered
one question. Governo would be her impulsive as-
sistant.
    "Mr. Dukat," she said, purposely making a mistake
on his title. "I--"
    "Gul Dukat," he said in those dulcet tones. "Gul is
my title."
    "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know." She took a
step closer to him. The three Cardassians were so tall,
it felt as if she were stepping toward a forest.
    He watched her as if he had never seen a human
before.
    "I would love to see the station," she said, "but I
was led to believe the medical situation here is urgent.
Perhaps if we get this thing under control, you can
give me a tour. Right now, though, my assistants and I
would like to put our things in our quarters and report
for our duties."
    Dukat inclined his head toward her. "What you will
see in our medical section isn't normal for Terok
Nor."
    She smiled at him. It would be another part of her
job, she realized, to charm the snake. "It isn't normal
anywhere." She glanced up at him, making her look
purposefully vulnerable. "Perhaps Kellec didn't tell
you about me. I'm a doctor. I have no interest in
politics. I'm here as a favor to Kellec."  "And your assistants?"
    "Are here because they have leave and they volun-
teered."
    His smile was just a bit jaded. "And that's why the
Starship Enterprise brought you to the rendezvous,
because you're a simple doctor, volunteering your
time."
    "No," she said. "Until a few days ago, I served on
that ship. I am between assignments. Captain Picard
gave my position to his former chief medical officer,
so he owed me a favor."
Dukat clearly wasn't buying that, so she sighed.
"And besides, having a starship escort me was the
only way we could convince Starfleet to let us come.
They worry about having valuable personnel so close
to the Carclassian border."
 "You're inside Cardassian space."
    "I know," Pulaski said. "And with luck, we'll be
able to make your people well. Please, let us work
first."
 "As you wish," he said.
    "In fact," she said, "it would probably be best to
show my assistants to their quarters and lead me to
the medical area. I'm sure Kellec and your doctor
could use the relief."
    "All right." Dukat turned to his guards. 'Tll take
Dr. Pulaski to the medical section. You escort her
assistants to their quarters, and when they're settled,
bring them to the section as well."
    "Forgive me, Doctor," Marvig said, "but perhaps
one of us should come with you. We can both get right
to work."
    "Good suggestion, Crystal, but I'm used to field
medicine. None of you are. Trust me, it's better for
you to get your bearings and then come. It will
prevent burnout later." Pulaski turned to Dukat.
"Shall we go?"
    He nodded and then, to her surprise, he took her
hand and placed it on his arm. Such a courtly gesture,
and one that would certainly rile Kellec if he saw it.
Still, she let Dukat do it.
    His uniform was softer than she expected from its
design, and his skin was cooler. She wondered if the
heat in the Cardassian ship and now here, on Terok
Nor, was because Cardassians had cold blood, just
like the Earthly creatures they resembled. She was
surprised she didn't remember, and made a mental
note to brush up on her own Cardassian physiology
when she had a free moment. Every detail was
important, and things she had studied years ago that
were now lost to the sands of time might be more
crucial than she had initially thought.
    Dukat led her through the maze of corridors.
"What have they told you of Terok Nor?" he asked as
they walked.
  "Only that it's an ore-processing plant," she said.
  "Ah, such an oversimplification," he said. "Terok
 Nor is more than a simple factory. We are a vezT large
 station, and many ships come through here on their
 way to Cardassia Prime. Did you see the station as
 you came in?"
     "No," she said. "We were restricted to the crew's
 mess."
     A dark, troubled look crossed his face, and that hint
 of danger she had felt from the beginning returned.
 This was not a man to be trifled with. "They should
 have treated you better. After all, you've come here as
 a favor to us."
     "I assumed that they made room for us where they
 could," she said.
    He nodded. "Well, if you had seen us as you came
in, you would have noted the difference in design
from your space stations. We have a docking ring, and
a habitat ting, and we are at the cutting edge of
Cardassian technology--perhaps of technology all
through the sector."
    She didn't know if he wanted her to ask questions
or not.
    "We've put your quarters in the best section of our
habitat ting. If there's anything you need, you come
directly to me."
  'Tll do that," she said.
    "I wanted to show you the heart of the station," he
said. "It's our Promenade. We have restaurants,
stores, even a Ferengi-run bar, if your tastes run to
alcohol, Dabo, and questionable holosuite pro-
grams."
    "I hope I will get a chance to sample all three," she
said. "I'm sure I'll need them when we have every-
thing under control."
    "You sound confident that you can cure this dis-
ease," Dukat said. "Is there something you know that
my people don't?"
    "Perhaps it's ignorance on my part," she said,
thankful that her year with Picard had helped her
brush up on her diplomacy. "I do not know as much
as Kellec or your doctor about this disease, and they
refused to send me the specs before I arrived. But it's
my nature to be optimistic. If I weren't, I wouldn't be
a doctor. We're all a bit egotistical, you know."
    "I hadn't realized that," he said with all the
smoothness of a lie.
    These corridors seemed to go on forever. She
wanted to remove her hand from his arm, but felt she
didn't dare, not yet.
    "Yes," she said. "We are. I think it a necessary skill.
It leads us to places that aren't safe, to try things
others wouldn't think of, and never to accept failure."
"Have you ever accepted failure?" Dukat said.
    "Accepted it?" she asked. "No. Experienced it?
Yes."
    "Ah, yes, your marriage to Kellec." He didn't miss
much. Her sense of him was correct.
    "I wasn't thinking of that," she said. "I was think-
ing of death. We all lose patients, and we're never
happy about it."
    "You're bringing that attitude to my station," he
said.
    "I am, and so are my assistants. We'll do everything
we can to stop this thing."
     He paused. The corridor opened onto a larger area.
 It must have been the area he had called the Prome-
 nade. Ahead she saw lights and advertisements in
Cardassian. A group of Cardassian guards were
crowded around a post. She saw that catch Dukat's
attention, and then saw him pretend that it didn't
matter.
    "I believe you will do everything you can to stop
this disease," he said, and he sounded a bit surprised.
She frowned. Was this the real Dukat? Beneath that
reptilian coolness, was there a worded leader be-
neath? He would have to be stupid not to be. If the
disease were half as bad as she had heard, he had to be
worried about dying himself.
    "Just be careful, Doctor," he said. "Kellec Ton is a
bitter man. Do not believe everything he says."
    She smiled, even though she had never felt less like
doing so. "I know," she said. "I was married to him,
remember?"
    Dukat laughed. The sound echoed in the wide-open
space and the huddle of guards near the post all
turned in his direction. He led her into the Prome-
nade. There were shops with windows opening onto
the walk area. In one window, a Volian sat at a table,
hand-stitching a shirt. Another door opened and a
strange-looking man slipped through it. He wore a
brown uniform, and he crossed his arms over his
chest as she walked by. His face seemed half-formed,
or imperfectly formed. She had never seen anyone
from a species like that before.
    Dukat was explaining what all the places were, but
she wasn't really listening. The guards had lifted a
man from the floor and were carrying him without a
gurney in the direction she and Dukat were walking.
    "And this is Quark's," he said, sweeping a hand
toward a nearly empty bar.
She peered inside. There was a lot of light and
color, but no customers. A Ferengi stood behind the
bar. He looked nervous, but then they all did to her.
    This would probably be her only opportunity to let
go of Dukat. She slipped her hand from his arm, and
went inside the bar. The Ferengi looked at her in
surprise.
 "Care for a drink?" he asked.
    Three Cardassians were passed out at a back table,
and another Ferengi was trying in vain to wake them
up. She frowned at them.
     "A bit of hot water on the back of the neck usually
wakes up a Cardassian," she said to the bartender.
  "Really?" he asked.
    Dukat came inside. "I thought you were in a hurry
to get to the infirmary."
     "I am," she said. "I just thoughtmwell, I had the
impression that this would be the hub of the station."
  "It is," the Ferengi said. "When no one's dying."
  "Quark." That menacing tone was buried in
  Dukat's voice again. He sounded so threatening and
  yet so nice. How did he manage that?
    "Have we far to go?" Pulaski asked, walking out of
the bar ahead of him.
  "Um, no," Dukat said.
      "And I take it the infirmary is this way?" She
headed in the direction the guards had walked.
  "Yes," Dukat said.
    She couldn't look too knowledgeable or he would
get suspicious, so she slowed down just enough for
him to catch up to her.
    "What I've seen of the station," she said, "is
already impressive."
    He smiled at her, and then turned a small corner.
"Here is the medical section." A door to her right slid
open, and instantly the stench of rot overwhelmed
her. She gagged involuntarily and put a hand to her
mouth.
    "She's turning green!" Dukat said, a hand on her
shoulder, trying to push her further inside.
    She shook him off. "It's a normal human reaction,"
she said, barely keeping control of her voice, "when
faced with a smell like that."
    His call, though, had brought a Cardassian to the
front, and behind him, Kellec.
    Kellec. Too slim by half. He hadn't been eating
again. His hair was messy and his earring was caught
on the top of his ear. He had deep circles under both
eyes, and lines around his mouth she had never seen
before.
 And he looked dear. Very dear.
  "Katherine?" he asked. "Are you all right?"
    "I just don't care for the local perfume," she said,
and wrapped him in a great hug. He was thin, so thin
he felt fragile in her arms.
    He returned the hug, but she could feel him looking
over her shoulder at Dukat. So she had been right.
They were in a pissing match, and Dukat had tried--
and failed--to turn her into an issue.
    She stepped back and surveyed the room. There
were cots everywhere, and makeshift beds, all filled
with green Cardassians, many of them holding their
stomachs and moaning despite obvious sedation. The
green color was startling. No wonder Dukat had
panicked when he saw her get nauseous from the
smell. It showed that he was a lot more panicked
than his tet-me-give-you-a-tour-of-the-station demea-
nor let on.
    She made herself turn to him, even though she
didn't want to. "Thank you for your kindness, Gul
Dukat," she said. "I do hope we'll be able to finish our
tour later."
    He bowed his head slightly. "It would be my
pleasure, Doctor. And remember, if you need any-
thing, anything at all, come to me." "I will."
    Dukat glanced at the Cardassian who stood to the
side, and then his gaze met Kellec's. There was pride
in that look, and measuring, and something else,
some sort of challenge. And then Dukat left.
    "Tour?" Kellec asked. "He took you on a tour of
the station instead of bringing you here?"
    "He's afraid I'm going to send a bad report to
Starfleet," Pulaski said. "But I made him bring me
here directly."
"No one makes Dukat do anything," Kellec said.
"Oh, I don't know," Pulaski said. "You managed to
get him to bring me here." She put a hand through her
hair, wishing now that she had had a chance, a very
brief one, to stop in her quarters. Kellec always made
her feel like that.
    "Dr. Pulaski," the Cardassian who had rushed to
the door said. "I'm Dr. Narat."
    He was hunched over more by the demands of his
profession than with age. His dark eyes were sharp as
well, but his face wasn't as reptilian as Dukat's. There
was a softness to Narat, a compassion that seemed
built into him. Even though she had never met him
before, she got a sense from him that he, too, was
exhausted.
  "Thank you for coming," he said. "You are alone?"
     "I brought three assistants. I sent them to their
 quarters to drop off their things before coming here. I
 wanted to assess the situation alone."
    Narat nodded. He swept a hand toward the beds.
"This is just one area, only the Cardassians. We have
two other rooms full in the medical section and we've
had to take over an empty business space right next
door."
  "My heavens," Pulaski said.
    Kellec nodded. "If it weren't for all the deaths," he
said, "we would need even more room."
    She glanced at him. She wasn't used to him being so
blunt. At least not about losing patients. So things
were awful here. Only doctors who had seen a lot of
death in a short period of time had that fiat affect,
that way of speaking about terrible things as if they
were commonplace.
  And apparently they were.
  "How many have died?" she asked.
    "Everyone who has been sick for longer than two
days," Narat said.
    Her gaze met Kellec's. It wasn't just exhaustion she
saw in his eyes. It was deep, overwhelming sadness,
and more--a frustration and anger so strong that he
had to fight to keep it held back. He knew as well as
she, as well as any doctor, that anger only blinded. He
needed to remain level.
    "How many is that?" she asked gently. "How many
have died?"
    Kellec shook his head. "We've been too busy to
keep track of the numbers, and we have no real
assistants. It's not a relevant statistic at the moment."
  "But how have you notified the families?"
  "Niceties are gone, Katherine," he said. "We
haven't done anything except triage, palliative mea-
sures, and research. We haven't had time."
    "Maybe now," Narat said. "Now that you're here,
we can do some of those things again."
    Pulaski nodded. It wasn't like Kellec to let go of the
small details. For any reason. "You said everyone who
contracts the disease dies?"
 "Everyone," Kellec said. "Within two days."
    She glanced around the room. If something weren't
done, a solution wasn't found, all of these people
would be dead soon. And all of the patients in the
next room, and the next.
    "Cardassian and Bajoran?" she asked. "No one has
survived?"
 "No one."
    She shook her head. "I've never heard of a plague
like that," she said. "The black plague on Earth, in the
days when medicine consisted of trickery and leeches,
left one-quarter of the population alive. The Triferian
flu on Vulcan only killed half. The worst plague I've
ever heard of, the Nausicaan wort virus, which struck
a thousand years ago, killed 95 percent of the Nausi-
caan population. No plague kills one hundred per-
cent. Someone always survives."
    Kellec shook his head. "If you contract this thing,"
he said, "you die."
    "And that's why you believe this is a designer
virus?" she asked.
    "That, and several other factors. Its precision, for
one thing. And the way it works. Let us show you
what we've found so far. It would be nice to have a
fresh eye on things." He took her arm and started to
lead her toward the office.
  She stopped though, and gazed at all the moaning
patients. One hundred percent death rate. No wonder
Kellec didn't want to talk about it. That made their
job a thousand times harder. The best way to beat a
virai infection was to discover what was different
within those patients who were exposed and didn't get
sick. Or those who got sick and survived. Often their
systems produced antibodies that worked against the
virus, and those antibodies could be replicated and
placed in those patients who didn't manufacture them
naturally.
    But a 100-percent death rate completely cut the
traditional options out. The solution had to be a lab-
devised one, just like the virus itself. And that re-
quired researchers, not medical doctors. She did
research, yes, but her main focus had always been her
patients. Maybe Starfleet had been right in trying to
send the viral experts here.
    Maybe. But to do so would have meant at least a
hundred more deaths in the time it took those experts
to arrive. At least she was here now. Her assistants
could look after the patients, and she could work with
Kellec and Narat to find a cure.
    The confidence she had spoken of to Dukat had
vanished. In her entire career, she had never faced
odds like this. Terok Nor had a small population. In
order to save any of it, she and her colleagues had to
find a solution fast.
    The problem was that all the shortcuts had been
blocked off. They had to do the impossible, and she
wasn't even sure how to begin.


Chapter Twelve

HE STOOD IN THE SHADOWS next to Quark's bar, marvel-
ing at the difference a few days had made. Before
there had been laughter and shouting, games and
relaxation, but now there was silence. The Ferengi,
Quark, was complaining about the silence, still worry-
ing about his business, not realizing that soon, every-
thing on Terok Nor would come to an end.
    He had found it amusing when Quark had carried
the ill Cardassian outside the bar before allowing his
brother to report the illness. Quark still believed
everything would turn around, things would get bet-
ter, his bar would come back to life, and he would
continue to earn his precious latinurn.
 Soon latinum wouldn't be important at all.
    He had had a bad moment, though, as Quark, his
brother, and his nephew had passed, carrying the
Cardassian. For an instant, his shield had fizzled. He
had caught it in time, but Quark had turned his head,
almost as if he had seen the shimmer the malfunction
caused. Fortunately, the Ferengi was so self-involved
that he apparently thought nothing of it.
    Ever since, though, he had kept close watch on the
shield. It was his only protection here, allowing him
to go undiscovered. Not that there were many left to
discover him. The sick Cardassians had made their
way, one by one, to the medical section. The well ones
were staying away from populated areas, keeping
themselves in their rooms unless they had duties--
and sometimes even then.
    Humanolds all shared an attitude toward disease.
No matter how sophisticated the society, humanoids
still feared tiny little microbes that attacked the body
unseen. From Cardassians and Bajorans to Trills and
Klingons, the fear of illness was uniform. And all the
more amusing in societies like Cardassia's. Soldiers
seemed to fear disease most of all.
    He had enjoyed watching Terok Nor's leader,
Dukat, when he felt he was alone. The constant
washing of the hands. His reluctance to touch other
Cardassians or Bajorans. His nervous movements
every time he was about to enter the medical section.
All of them were tiny geatures, but they were oh, so
telling. And if Dukat felt that way, so did all the other
Cardassians. He almost wished the symptomatic part
of the disease lasted longer. It brought out the fear in
the unaffected--or the not-yet-symptomatic, to be
more accurate--so much better.
    He made a mental note about that, not certain if he
were going to use it or not.
    But he was here to observe, and since he had
arrived, he had observed a lot. The way the Cardassi-
ans simply kept going until they lost control; the
resigned futility among the Bajorans; the added calls
to the Prophets who, of course, were not listening: All
of this intrigued him. And pleased him, if he had to be
honest. Things were progressing better than he had
expected.
    Although that could change. Dukat's mood seemed
lighter since he escorted the human woman across the
Promenade and into the medical section. She looked
vaguely familiar, with her brown hair and calm de-
meanor. He had a moment of panic when she excused
herself from Dukat and walked into Quark's. For a
moment, he thought she was going to walk over to
him. It was as if she saw him, as if she knew he was
there.
    Instead, she had asked the Ferengi a question or
two, and then had gone on.
    He hadn't expected humans on Terok Nor. He
hadn't expected anyone associated with the Federa-
tion. He had purposely chosen Cardassians and Ba-
jorans because they had no official ties with the
Federation and so wouldn't request Federation help.
    What this woman was doing here baffled him, but
she had obviously been brought in to help find a cure.
Fortunately, a cure would prove extremely difficult. If
not impossible. Diseases did not act the way this one
did. Most doctors weren't creative enough to under-
stand something so different, so fundamentally alien.
    A single human woman would make no difference
in this laboratory. He would worry only when teams
of scientists came in. Federation scientists.
    And by the time they arrived, it would be too late.
No matter how light Gul Dukat's mood, the fact was
that Terok Nor was doomed.
    He had done the projections before he came, a
timetable assuming everything went according to
plan--which it had, much to his surprise. It was now
time for him to leave. His cloaked ship would pick
him up shortly.
    And probably just in time. According to his projec-
tions, Terok Nor had very little time left.



Chapter Thirteen

/

SHE WAS CRAZY to have come back to Terok Nor. What
had she been thinking when she offered to come here?
Certainly she hadn't been thinking very clearly.
    It no longer seemed like the risks that she took
getting here in her small rebel ship, keeping it hidden
from Cardassian scans, and then beaming aboard,
were going to be worth it. It had been harder this
time, because Terok Nor was closed to almost all
ships. She wasn't sure if the beam-in had been de-
tected; she doubted anyone was scouting for security
breaches in the middle of this internal crisis.
    Kira stood in the center of the Bajoran section. It
looked nothing like it had a few months ago, when she
had come here to get a list of Bajoran collaborators
from a chemist's shop. She didn't like to think about
that visit, and how close she had come to becoming a
true prisoner of the Cardassians.
    She ran her hands over her arms. She had goose-
bumps despite the warmth. This place smelled like
rot, and if she hadn't known better, she would have
thought it like one of the prisoner-of-war camps on
Cardassia. Dukat had always prided himself on keep-
ing a clean, well-run station, where he treated the
Bajorans "fairly."
    There was nothing fair about this place any longer.
Not even the most delusional could miss that.
    Ill Bajorans lay on the floor, their cheeks rosy, their
eyes too bright. They held their stomachs and
moaned, while family members tried to take care of
them. Others were on blankets or coats that someone
had given up. There were no Cardassian guards in
sight--it was as if the guards had forgotten the
Bajorans were here.
    Not that it mattered. The Bajorans were too busy
dying to think of revolution.
    She had had no idea the disease was this bad. If she
had to guess, she would estimate that half of the
Bajorans she saw were in some stage of illness.
    And she saw no sign of Kellec Ton at all. No sign of
any doctors, no sign of any help. How could Dukat
allow this? How could anyone?
    There had to be someone that the Bajorans looked
to for leadership, someone who took control of vari-
ous situations. But she didn't even know where to
look. The fine web of corridors and large rooms that
had served as the Bajoran section no longer had any
order to it at all. The sick lay everywhere, even in the
eating areas, and there were a few bodies stacked near
the entrance to the processing plants.
 Bodies. Stacked. She had never expected to see this.
 She didn't even know where to begin.
    She wanted to roll up her sleeves and help, but she
knew nothing about medicine, at least this kind of
medicine. Give her a patient with a phaser burn and
she could treat it, or a broken arm and she could set it,
but to die like this, moaning in excruciating agony
while everyone around was busy with their own
deaths, was something completely beyond her.
    Two Cardassian guards walked through the corri-
dor. They stepped over the ill and dying Bajorans as if
they were simply rocks lying in their path. They were
talking in low tones, their conversation impossible to
hear.
    Kira tensed. If they saw her, they might bring her to
Dukat. And that was the last thing she needed.
    She slid down the wall, and buried her face in her
knees. She couldn't bring herself to moan, to feign the
illness so many others were dying of. But she kept
herself immobile.
    As the Cardassians passed, their conversation be-
came clearer.
    "... so desperate that he's allowing the Bajoran
doctor to work on Cardassian patients."
    "That's not what I've heard. I've heard the illnesses
are related, and if they find a cure for one, they find a
cure for both."
 "It's a Bajoran trick."
 "What makes you think that?"
    "They designed this virus to kill us, but it back-
fired. It makes them sick as well."
    "Surely if that were true, Dukat wouldn't let that
Bajoran anywhere near the medical section."
    "Dukat is smarter than you think. Perhaps he wants
Narat to catch the Bajoran infecting Cardassians..."

    Their voices faded. Kira raised her head just
enough to be able to watch them leave out of the
corner of one eye. So the rumor about the Cardassians
was true; they were dying of this disease as well.
    And of course, the lower-level guards believed that
the Bajorans were behind the illness, not realizing
that the Bajorans no longer had the capability to do
anything like this. Bajorans were struggling just to
stay alive.
    She hadn't expected it to be so easy to discover
where Kellec Ton was, though. He was in the Cardas-
sian medical section, helping save Cardassians. She
would never have believed it of him. He had to have
some other plan in mind. But she wasn't sure what
that would be, nor was she certain how to reach him.
It would mean leaving the Bajoran section. Some
Bajorans did, she knew, but very few. And they were
usually collaborating somehow.
    She had been outside the Bajoran section last year,
when she went to the chemist's to steal that list of
collaborators, but everything had gone wrong. She
had had to kill the chemist, and she had gotten
caught. She managed to lie her way out of it, though,
and escape with her life.
  She wasn't sure she'd be that lucky this time.
    But if the Cardassians were sick too, and the guard
levels down here were any indication, she might have
an easier time of it. The entire station seemed to
be preoccupied with itself, turned inward, not out-
ward. Maybe no one cared any longer about collabo-
rators and the resistance. Maybe all anyone on Terok
Nor cared about was surviving from moment to mo-
ment.

    She waited until she was certain the guards were
long gone. Then she rose ever so slowly, looking both
ways. As she did, the wall at her back moved.
    She gasped and turned. What she had thought to be
a small beam attached to the wall turned into a liquid,
then formed itself into a man. The security chief. Odo.
    She swallowed. He had caught her the last time, and
nearly tried her for murder. But she had convinced
him that she hadn't killed that Cardassian chemist
and he had helped her escape. She hadn't expected to
see him again.
    "Kira Nerys, isn't it?" Odo said, as his shape
solidified.
 She didn't answer him, just watched him.
    "I wondered who would be foolish enough to beam
aboard a quarantined station."
    She swallowed hard, but lifted her chin in a defiant
movement.
    "Or didn't you know that everyone is dying here?"
He tilted his head. He was such a strange creature. His
features weren't completely formed, and yet she could
see something in those eyes. A sadness, perhaps.
 "You're not dying," she said.
    "I'm not Bajoran or Cardassian." Odo crossed his
arms. "You do realize that I should tell Gul Dukat of
your arrival."
  "I thought you said everyone is dying."
    "It was only a slight exaggeration. Dukat, so far,
seems fine."
  "That's no surprise," Kira said.
  "What does that mean?"
  "It means those guards had this whole thing back-
wards. The Cardassians designed this plague to kill
Bajorans, and now it's backfired on them."
    "Do you actually believe that?" Odo asked. "You
always struck me as such an intelligent woman be-
fore."
    She felt herself flush. "So you believe the Cardas-
sian version?"
    "Actually, I have a feeling that there's something
else going on entirely. Your people and the Cardassi-
ans are so focused on your hatred for each other that
you can't see beyond yourselves."
  She frowned. "What do you know?"
    "Nothing, really. It's just a hunch." He tilted his
head toward her. "Just like my hunch says it's no
coincidence that you're here, now. What are you
coming to do? Start a rebellion now that the Cardassi-
ans are weak?"
    She swept her hand across the floor, indicating all
the ill people. "As if that would do any good. Why
isn't anyone taking care of them?"
    "Believe it or not," Odo said, "someone is. It's just
there is so much sickness on the station that each
patient can only expect a moment or two of personal
attention a day."
    It was sadness she saw in his eyes. He was as
helpless as she was. "Kellec Ton?" she asked. "He has
been coming down here?"
"Is that why you're here? To check up on him?"
She couldn't answer that. Much as this shape-
shiftefts demeanor made her feel like trusting him,
she had been in this situation too many times to trust
anyone in authority. "Is he still alive?"
 "I thought you overheard those guards," Odo said.
"He's in the Cardassian section, trying to find a
cure."
 "Is he having any luck?"
    "i'm riot privy to'the medical discussions, but from
what I've seen, no. If anything, the plague has gotten
worse."
    She shivered ever so slightly. Kellec hadn't gone
crazy, had he? He hadn't started the plague, as those
guards accused him of doing?
    Of course not. What was she thinking? Kellec Ton
wasn't that kind of man. No matter what circum-
stances drove him to, he would never voluntarily take
a life, let alone hundreds of lives.
    "Is it as bad as they say?"she asked, not able to help
hersetfi
 "What do they say?"
 "That anyone who catches this disease dies."
    He looked away from her, at the moaning people
around them. He seemed smaller than the last time
she saw him, as if the suffering had diminished him
somehow. Or perhaps everyone seemed smaller in the
face of this kind of anguish.
    "From what I have observed," he said slowly, "any
Cardassian or Bajoran who is exposed to this disease
eventually gets the disease. And anyone who gets it,
dies."
 "So I'm at risk," Kira said.
 "I'm afraid so," Odo said.
    They stared at each other for a moment. Then he
said, "I'm going to have to locate your ship and warn
its crew away from here."
    She almost told him that she was in a scout ship,
and that she had come alone, but he didn't need that
information.
    "They left anyway," she lied, "just after they
brought me here."
      "I'm going to check anyway," he said. "Because you
made the biggest mistake of your life coming here."
  "Are you threatening me?" she asked.
    He shook his head. "I wish it were that easy. But
this station is under quarantine. Anyone who comes
here cannot leave, not until the quarantine is lifted,
and I doubt it will be lifted anytime soon."  She look at him.
    "I will keep an eye out for any illegal transportation
devices, and in fact, I think I'll recommend to Gul
Dukat to raise the station's shield so that no one can
leave via transporter."
  "Then I will die here," she said.
    "You chose to come," he said. "It was a bad
decision." Then he gave her a compassionate look. "If
you stay in the Bajoran section, you'll be all right."
  "And if I choose not to?"
  "I can't vouch for what happens to you."
    "Why should I care what happens to me?" she
asked. "From what you say, I'm dead anyway."
    He sighed. "I have hope," he said, although his tone
belied his words, "that someone will find a way to end
this thing."
  "You don't seem like an optimistic man."
    He inclined his head toward her as a sort of
acknowledgement. "I'm usually not. But your friend
has brought his ex-wife aboard, and it took some
doing. I have to believe she has the skills to help with
all of us."
    Kellec Ton's ex-wife? What had Kira heard about
her? Not much, except--she was Starfleet. The Fede-
ration. That had to take some doing.
    "What makes you think one person will make a
difference?" Kira asked.
    "I'm looking at it from a practical standpoint," he
said. "She's not Bajoran or Cardassian."
    "And so has no stake in developing the disease
further?"
    "Actually, no," he said. "She has a chance of
staying alive long enough to develop a cure."




Chapter Fourteen

PULASKI'S EYES ACHED from the strain of staring at the
Cardassian computer monitors. The LTDs here were
set on a different frequency than the Federation
mandated. These settings were not designed for hu-
man eyes, and were creating a serious version of eye
strain. She leaned back in her chair and with her
thumb and forefinger massaged the bridge of her nose.
    Ten hours of work, and it felt like only a moment.
Ten hours. She thought she might have something, but
she wanted to rest for just a second, to allow the hope
to diminish.
    The mood on Terok Nor, the hopelessness, had
infected her more than she wanted to admit. She had
tried to get KeUec to leave the medical section, but he
refused to go. She thought of actually giving him a
sedative so that he could sleep, but she couldn't do
that. They might need his clear thinking.

    At least she had convinced Narat to rest. What she
wanted to do was to place the three main doctors on a
rotating schedule, two on and one off at all times. This
might continue for days, and it would do no good for
Narat and Kellec to court illness by shorting them-
selves on sleep.
    When Narat returned, she would convince Kellec
to go. No matter what it took.
    She would be doing the same in their shoes, though.
One of the reasons she wanted to set up the new
system was so that she ensured she would get some
rest. Right now, she was the fresh one, seeing things
with a new perspective, but over time that would
change. She wanted all of them to have an advantage.
    She sighed and stood, stretching. Even the chairs
were poorly designed, at least for her human form.
Apparently Cardassians had the assumption of height
working for them. She had to rest her feet on the base
of the chair instead of the floor, and that was playing
havoc with her back. She turned and looked out the
office door at the medical section's patient areas.
    Ogawa was taking care of the Bajorans in the
medical section, offering kind words and comfort.
Marvig was below, in the Bajoran section, working in
the corridors with the people too sick to make it here.
Eventually, they would switch places. Pulaski had
seen the Bajoran section on one of her short breaks,
and it had been the worst thing yet on Terok Nor.
Dozens of sick and dying people, with no one to care
for them except their own familieswif they had any
families left.
    Some of them were already weakened from years
spent as Cardassian prisoners or as workers in the ore-
processing area. Pulaski had no idea what working
with uridium did to the immune system, but if
uridium was like any other ore, it weakened every-
thing it came into contact with.
    Governo was ministering to the Cardassians. His
bedside manner was gruffer and blunter than either
Ogawa's or Marvig's, and the Cardassians seemed to
appreciate that. They were the kind of patients who
wanted the unvarnished truthmrather like Klingons
in that respect--so that they could make decisions
from there. Only the Cardassians were too sick to
attempt to die with honor, as a Klingon would have
done. Or perhaps it wasn't part of their culture. She
didn't know. She had never really made a point of
studying Cardassian social habits.
    "Are you all right?" Kellec was behind her, his
voice soft in her ear.
 She nodded. "I needed to think."
 "Staring out there helps you think?"
 "There's nowhere else to look," she said.
    "Up on the Promenade, there are windows that
look out to the stars," Kellec said. "I go there if I need
a moment alone."
    "I'11 remember that," Pulaski said. "But that wasn't
the kind of thinking I needed to do."
    "You've found something," Kellec said. He knew
her so well. They had spent years apart, and it felt as if
they had only been away from each other for a few
hours.
    "I think so." She turned away from the door and
came back to her chair. She put her hands on it
instead of sitting in it, more out of courtesy to her
back than any other reason. "Let me show you."
    She ran her fingers across the flat control board,
punching up two holographic images. They were of
the virus, its perfect form sinister to her, as if it had
already imptinted itself in her subconscious as some-
thing evil.
    Kellec stood beside her, stating at the images. "You
see something here that I've missed."
    "Yes," she said. She lowered her voice. "These are
not the same virus."
    "Katherine," Ton said. "I've been studying them
for days. They're exactly the same."
    "No," she said. "I double-checked your work and
Narat's. You examined the viruses at first and thought
they were the same. The computer reported that they
were as well. From that point on, you've only been
working with one form of the virus, pulled from the
same culture."
    He frowned at her, then peered at the images. He
touched the control pad, making the images larger. "I
don't see the difference."
    "It's subtle," she said, "and this system, sophisti-
cated as it is, isn't calibrated for such tiny differences.
Apparently, Cardassian medicine is a lot more
straightforward than the types we practice in the
Federation."
He glanced at her, obviously not following.
"These systems," she said, "are designed for Car-
dassian physiology only. And why shouldn't they be?
Even though several species come through Terok Nor,
most everything here is geared toward Cardassians.
On starships, and throughout the Federation, we're
dealing with a wide variety of species all the time.
Small thingsminfinitesimal things--can sometimes
mean the difference between life and death."
    "All right," he said. "What infinitesimal thing have
I missed?"
    She pointed to the image on the left. "This is Virus
B, the virus that's killing the Bajorans." She punched
in a label that ran across the bottom. Then she
pointed to the image on the right. "This is Virus C,
the one that's killing the Cardassians."
    Kellec peered at both screens. Then he made them
larger. "I must be tired," he said. "I can't see the
difference."
    "You are tired," she said. "This is why I want us all
to have a few hours of sleep a day. But that's beside
the point. Look here."
 She pointed to a single strand on Virus B's DNA.
    "Now," she said, "compare it to the same strand on
Virus C's DNA."
    He closed his eyes and brought the heel of his hand
to his forehead. "How could I have missed that?"
    "You weren't looking for it," she said. "They look
so much alike--'"
    "Don't make excuses for me, Katherine. I should
have caught it."
 "Why? You thought the viruses were the same."
 "But they manifested differently."
    "Yes," she said, "and that's completely logical
given the differences between Cardassian and Bajoran
physiology."
    "But Cardassians and Bajorans don't get the same
diseases. We all know that."
    It wasn't like Kellec to go into recriminations. He
was exhausted. She had to get him focused on some-
thing else. "You brought me in here for a new perspec-
tive."
 "Yes," he said. "I did."
 "Well, I have more."
    He frowned. "This is the part you were reluctant to
tell me."
    She nodded. "And frankly, I'm relieved Narat isn't
here. Are you sure we can talk here without being
overheard?"
 "No one out there is listening," Ton said.
 "And Dukat?"
     Kellec shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think he
would be. It's not the way he usually does things."
  "Good," she said.
  "Why?"
    She took a deep breath. "Because Virus B, found in
the Bajorans, is mutating into Virus C and killing
Cardassians."
    Instantly Kellec's face went white; then he did the
same thing she had been doing. He quickly checked
around him to make sure no Cardassians had heard.
If this information got out, Pulaski didn't know what
Dukat would do with the news. But from the reports
she had heard, she doubted he would stop short at
wiping out most of the Bajoran people to stop this.
    "How can you be sure it's not the other way
around?" Kellec asked.
    She punched up a different image. "Watch," she
said.
    She had a time-lapsed image of the Bajoran cultures
that Kellec and Narat had been using. Over a period
of a few days, the Bajoran virus mutated. She high-
lighted the new viruses in red.
  "What made you look for that?" he asked.
    "I saw how closely they were related. I knew we
weren't dealing with a coincidence. Kellec, you and
Narat are right. This is an artificially created virus."
    "You mean it's designed to go from Bajoran to
Cardassian?"
  She nodded.
    He gripped the back of the nearest chair. "If the
Cardassians find out about this--"
    "They'll wipe out every Bajoran they can find," she
said. "And it will kill the Cardassian source of infec-
tion."
  "You can't condone that!" he said.
    "Of course not. But the Cardassians strike me as
the kind of people who can justify such a thing."
    Kellec sank into his chair. "I don't know what we
do now, Katherine. We need this information to find
a cure. But I want to wipe it all off the system."
    "I already have," she said. "These are my files,
coded to me only."
    "That's precisely the thing that will get you in
trouble with Dukat."
    "I know." She touched the screen and the images
disappeared. "But since I destroyed the material, he
can't accuse me of spying, now can he?"
  "Katherine, we needed that."
    She shook her head. "It's enough to know it. The
comparisons are gone, that's all. We have the knowl-
edge. Now we have to use it."
  "Swear to me you won't tell Narat."
 "I wish we could," she said. "He has a keen mind."
 "It's also a Cardassian mind."
    "I know that too. And for that reason, I won't say a
word."
 Kellec squeezed her arm. "Thank you, Katherine."
    "Don't thank me yet," she said. "We haven't found
a cure."
     "But we're one step closer than we were before you
arrived. Narat and I never would have found that."
  "You would have," she said.
    "Just not in time." Kellec pushed his chair closer to
the console. "At least now I have a bit of hope."
    She prayed that that was enough to sustain him.
Because the mutation of the virus worried her. She
would have expected it to go the other way. She had
actually been looking to see if the Cardassian form
mutated into the Bajoran form when she found that
she had the process exactly reversed.
    She wasn't sure what that meant yet, besides the
obvious results that Kellec envisioned, should the
Cardassians discover how the virus traveled. But she
didn't like what she was thinking, and she didn't
know how to clear the suspicions from her brain.
    Were an oppressed people wrong in doing anything
they could to get rid of their oppressors?
    She turned back toward the patients in the outer
rooms, and got her answer.
    Yes, they were. Some prices were too high, no
matter what the cause.





Chapter Fifteen

QUARK RUBBED HIS LEFT EAR with the back of his left
hand. It felt as if something were tickling the edge of
his lobe, and not in a pleasant way. He leaned across
the bar and surveyed his business.  His empty business.
    He hadn't had a customer in hours. At this rate, he
would be broke within the month, faster if Nog and
Rom continued to spend all his latinurn. No wonder
Prindora left Rom. He could go through money faster
than anyone Quark had ever seen.
    Quark peered into the Promenade. There was no
one there either. The Volian's shop was still open, but
he hadn't had a customer since Rom needed his new
hat. Several of the restaurants had closed, and most of
the stores were closed as well. No one even wandered
the Promenade, as if just moving around the station
made a person vulnerable to disease.

    Quark rubbed his ear again. All of this worry was
making him break out. And of course, it would
happen on the most sensitive spot on his body.
    He heard a clang above him and he glanced up. Nog
came out of the first holosuite, a bucket in his left
hand. He set the bucket down, scratched his ear, and
then picked up the bucket. Quark felt cold.
    He turned and leaned toward the mirror behind the
bar. It wasn't a pimple that he was scratching. He
hadn't broken out since he was a young Ferengi just
hitting puberty. He leaned closer. The reddened area
on his left ear looked more like... a blister.
  "Nog!" he shouted.
    "Coming, uncle," Nog said. He clanged all the way
down the stairs. Quark had had to look all over his
quarters to find a bucket, but when he had found one,
he gave it to Nog with the instruction that the boy
scrub the entire bar, including the holosuites. It was
just a way to keep him out of the way for a while, so
that Quark could think. Quark had hoped he would
come up with ways to save the business, but that hope
had been in vain.
      Nog reached the bottom of the stairs. He set the
bucket down, and absently scratched his ear again.
  Quark's eyes narrowed. "Come here, Nog."
    Nog looked up. He came toward the bar, and
smiled at Quark. When he reached the edge of the bar,
Quark grabbed him and pulled him close. Nog's smile
faded.
  "Turn your head," Quark said.
  Nog did.
  "Not that way. The other way."
  Nog looked in the other direction. Sure enough,
there was a reddish spot on Nog's right ear. A reddish
spot that was swollen and had a pus-filled tip. A
blister.
    "You little grubworm!" Quark said. "I should have
known better than to use my earbrush after you
touched it."
  "What?" Nog asked. "What did I do?"
    "Your filthy hands had germs on them from your
father's ear infection, and you touched my brush and
you spread those germs to me. And now I'm in agony.
Look!" He turned his ear toward Nog and leaned
toward Nog's face. Nog grimaced and strained back-
wards, but didn't get very far because Quark was
holding him.
  "I'm sorry, uncle. I didn't mean to--"
    "You didn't mean to. Your father didn't mean to.
You're an entire family of Ferengi who have no idea
how to take responsibility for anything. Well, ! do."
Quark shoved Nog backwards. "Get your father."
  "What for?"
  "Just get him."
  "Don't fire him, uncle. You're all we have."
    "Yes," Quark said. "I am reminded of that sad fact
daily. Now get him."
    Nog backed out of the bar, bumping into a chair,
then turned and ran for their quarters. Quark leaned
across the polished surface and stared at all the empty
tables. No customers. No latinurn. And an ear infec-
tion spread by his careless brother. And that hunch of
Quark's was still playing.
 Things were going to get worse.
    Nog came out of the quarters, dragging Rom by the
hand. Rom was trying to shove his hat over his head.
Quark came out from behind the bar, plucked off the
hat and threw it over his shoulder.
 "But brother," Rom said. "The customers!"
    "Are you seeing customers?" Quark asked. "Be-
cause if you are, then there's more wrong with you
than that ear infection."
    Rom glanced around, his movements jerkier than
usual, like they always were when he was nervous. "If
there are no customers, then why did you have Nog
come to get me?"
    "Because," Quark said, "you've managed to infect
all three of us through your carelessness."
    "I thought you said it was my carelessness," Nog
said.
    "It was both of you!" Quark snapped. "Now come
with me."
    He took them both by the hands and dragged them
out of the bar.
 "Where are we going?" Rom asked.
    "To the medical lab," Quark said. "We're going to
get this solved."
    "But they have dying patients," Rom said. "Why
would they help us?"
 "Because we have latinum," Quark said.
 "Dr. Narat doesn't take latinum," Rom said.
 "And you know this how?" Quark asked.
    "When we first arrived, I wasn't sleeping. I went to
him for--"
    "For what?" Quark stopped in the middle of the
Promenade. It was empty.
  "For--for a sleeping draught."
    "A sleeping draught. And you offered Dr. Narat
latinum."
    "Of course," Rom said. "That's how business is
done."
 He seemed so proud of himself.
 "And he didn't charge you anything?"
    "No," Rom said. "He gave me something to help
me sleep and then he laughed when I offered him
latinurn, and said that Cardassians don't take pay-
ments from Ferengi."
 "Well, that's a blatant lie," Quark said.
    "Is there a point to this, uncle?" Nog asked. He
stared down at Quark's hand, which was wrapped
around his wrist.
 "A point to what?" Quark asked.
 "This conversation about latinurn?"
    "Not really," Quark said. "Except that I was won-
dering where my brother was going to get the latinum
to pay the good doctor."
    "Well, you said that we should make ourselves at
home. I figured you wouldn't mind that I was going to
take care of myself."
    "You figured. You figured. Just like you figured this
boil on your ear would go away?"
    "It's just an infection, brother, caused by the
drinks."
    "It's an infection that your carelessness has spread.
And we're going to stop it." Quark dragged them
down the hall. The stench coming from the medical
area was stronger than he had expected. He had been
smelling the rot for a week now and ignoring it, like he
did in butcher shops on Ferenginar, but here it was
nearly impossible to ignore.
  "I don't think I'm going in there," Rom said.
    "Yeah," Nog said. "They probably won't have time
for us."

    "They'll probably be happy to have something they
can solve," Quark said with more bravado than he
felt. If his ear didn't itch so badly that he wanted to
scratch it off the side of his head, he wouldn't go into
that place either. But he couldn't stand itching, espe-
cially on as sensitive a place as his ear.
    He shoved Rom and Nog ahead of him, and the
door to the medical lab opened. The smell was even
worse. A hundred voices moaned.
 Rom shook his head. "Brother, I--"
    And Quark pushed him forward. Nog followed him
in, and then Quark brought up the rear.
    "Whatever it is," Dr. Narat said as he passed, "it
will have to wait."
 "It can't wait," Quark said.
 "Are you dying?"
 "No."
    "Then it can wait." And Narat disappeared
through a door.
    "See?" Rom said. "We have to wait. Which means
we should leave."
    Quark caught him by the sleeve. Quark wasn't too
happy about being here either--he'd never been in a
room filled with green Cardassians beforerebut he
wasn't about to leave now. For one thing, he might
never make it back. And then he'd have to scratch
until his ear bled, and the infection would grow
worse, and his lobes wouldm
    He couldn't allow himself to follow that train of
thought. He shuddered and headed toward the office.
    "I wouldn't go in there," a human woman said. She
had long dark hair and beautiful eyes.
 "Who are you?" Quark asked.
  ~Alyssa Ogawa," she said. "I'm helping here."
  "We have a problem, and it needs some attention."
  "Let rne see what I can do," she said.
    She slipped through the office door, and Rom
turned to Qtmrk. "She's beautiful, brother."
    "She's hu-man, Brother," Quark said. "You can't
trust a hu-man."
  "Ah, but you can look at them," Rom said.
    "Women are not your strong suit," Quark said.
"Stop thinking about her."
    She came out the door with Kellec Ton. He looked
exhausted. "I don't have much time," he said. "What
do you need?"
    Quark leaned forward, pointing to his ear. "Look at
this. Look at this. My brother got--"
    "Couldn't this have waited?" Kellec Ton asked.
"We have a real crisis here."
  "We know and we're sorry," Rom said. "We'll leave
nOW?'
    Quark pulled him closer. "No, we won't." He
~anced around the room. "I admit, our problem is
nothing like theirs--" and he shuddered a little at the
very thought "--but it is uncomfortable."
    "You can live with discomfort," Ketlec Ton said.
"Now, if you'll excuse me."
    "No," Quark said. "I won't. Don't you understand?
This itches."
    "And I'm very sorry," Kellec said. He was holding
the door like it was a lifeline. "But I don't have
time---"
    "These are our ears," Quark said, his voice going
up. "It would be like you getting an infection on
your--"
    "Brother!" Rom said, breathless with shock. "Re*
member Nog."
    "I know about their---" Nog started to say, but
Rom clapped a hand over his mourn
    "I'm sure the good doctor will help us when he has
time," Rom said. "Now let's go."
    Ketlec Ton let out a small laugh and shook his head.
"All right," he said. "You made your poinL l.e,t me
look at that."
    He bent down and turned on a sma[[, handhold
light. "IFs an infe, ction all right," he said, looking at
Quark's ear. Then he examined Nog's and then
Rom's. *'And it's deafly transmittable, probab~y
through the pus. Let me give you some antibacterial
cream that should ease the itching and clear this right
up."
 "Thank you," Quark said.
 "Yes," Rom said. "Thank you very much."
    The doctor went into the office, and rummaged
through a drawer. Rom teav~ed over to Quark. "1 still
think we shouldn't have bothered him."
    "Shut up," Quark sat& "We're getting help, aren't
we?"
    "Yes," Rom said. "But he's right. There are people
dying here?
    Quark nodded. He had to admit that he did agree
with Rom, but for entirely different reasons. He
wished they hadn't come here. Before it had seemed
entirely personal. The Cardassians got sick a~d no
one came to the bar. But it wasn't personal. In fact, it
was so impersonal that it hurt. No one came to the bar
because everyone was afraid of this---turning green,
scaly, and the stench! And then dying.
    Quark shuddered. He would have to start planning
his future, a future that didn't include Terok Nor. He
wasn't sure what he'd do, because once the word got
out that Terok Nor was the site of a plague, Quark
wouldn't be able to work anywhere--at least not have
a bar. Customers didn't like hearing about contagious
diseases in their bartender's past.
    "Here you go," Kellec said, placing a tube in
Quark's hand. "Follow the instructions. Your prob-
lems should ease by the end of the day."
    "Thank you," Quark said. "We didn't mean to
interrupt. If we had known--"
    "No," Kellec said. "It's all right. You did me a
favor. You reminded me that there's an entire uni-
verse out there. Even if things on Terok Nor and
Bajor..." He shook his head. "Anyway. I needed to
remember that life does go on."
  "Yes, it does," Rom said. "And--"
  Quark kicked him. He shut up.
    "We do appreciate it," Nog said. "We won't bother
you again." He scurried for the door. Quark followed
a bit more slowly, the tube cool against his right hand.
He was staring at the Cardassians on the beds and
makeshift cots. He recognized a number of them, had
served them drinks, listened to their problems. And
they would all be gone soon, if something didn't
change.
    He sighed and slipped outside, where Rom and Nog
were waiting for him.
    "Well, brother," Rom said. "You did the right
thing. Now all we have to do is apply that cream to
our ears--"
 "No," Quark said. 'Tll apply it to my ears, and I'll

give you your own dab of it. I'm not touching any-
thing you touch ever again. Is that clear?"
  "Perfectly," Rom said.
"Does this mean I get your earbrush?" Nog asked.
Quark stared at him for a moment, and then he
sighed, unwilling to fight them anymore. "I guess it
does," he said.




Chapter Sixteen

NEARLY TWENTY-FOUR HOURS without sleep. Pulaski
felt it in the grit of her eyes, the sluggishness in her
arms and legs. She had pulled all-nighters hundreds of
times from college on, and she'd hated each and every
one of them. Of course, she had to admit that this one
she didn't mind, because the work needed to be done.
    She bent over the culture she had been working on.
She took a dropper and placed a small sample of
solution on it, then glanced at the screen. Narat stood
beside her. They watched as the solution moved
through the viral cells, destroying them. It left all the
other cells alone.
  "I think we've got it," Narat said.
    Part of it, anyway, Pulaski thought--but didn't
add. She and Kellec hadn't told Narat about Virus B
and Virus C and how that discovery had led them to
this formula, which might actually be a cure. Kellec
was testing a slightly different form of solution on
Virus B, although what she and Kellec had told Narat
was that Kellec was merely doing a double check.
    Narat trusted them. He hadn't looked too closely at
either experiment.
    "The next step is to use test subjects," Pulaski said.
She wiped a hand over her forehead. "But we don't
have any."
 "Just the patients," Narat said.
    "I hate injecting an untried solution into some-
one," Pulaski said.
    "I have to agree with Narat on this one, Katherine,"
Kellec said. "They're going to die anyway. We have to
see if we can stop it."
    She nodded. She knew. She had done the same
several times in crisis situations, the last time on the
Enterprise. But each time her scientist's brain warned
that one day they would inject the wrong substance
into the wrong patient, and that that patient would
die too soon.
    "Why don't you and Narat try the Cardassians?"
Kellec said. 'TII try the Bajorans."
    "It might not work on one group or the other,"
Narat said.
    "We'll deal with that when it happens," Pulaski
said. She took a deep breath. "Let's at least try a
couple of patients before we inject everyone."
    Narat nodded. "That much caution I can accept.
Let's take three: one who is nearly gone, one in the
middle of the disease, and one at the beginning."
     "Get Edgar to help you find the patients," Pulaski
 said. "And Alyssa is among the Bajorans."
  She sat down. Something was bothering her about
 the cure, she wasn't sure what. But it would come to
 her. Eventually.
    Kellec was working among the Bajorans, moving
beds so that they were closer to the office, injecting
hypospray on the three patients. In the cultures, the
results had happened quickly. Pulaski wasn't sure
what would happen in an actual body.
Narat was doing the same with the Cardassians.
Ogawa looked excited. A strand of hair had fallen
from her neat bun, and she was smiling for the first
time since they had reached Terok Nor.
    Governo seemed solemn. He probably wasn't cer-
tain this would work. The entire trip had been hard
on him--first-time away missions often were for
medical personnel, and this one was particularly
difficult. Failure here would be worse than anything
any of them had ever faced before, except Pulaski,
and right now even she would be hard-pressed to
remember an occasion worse than this.
      Kellec finished with his few patients and sat down
beside her. "How long do you think this will take?"
  "If we're lucky, twenty minutes," she said.
    They both knew what would happen if they were
unlucky. They watched Narat work with the Cardas,.
sians.
    "If this works," Kellec said, "it's only going to work
on the virus. People will still catch it."
    "I know." He had put his finger on what had been
bothering her. "Maybe, though, it'll be like catching a
cold--not anything to worry about."
    "Maybe," he said. "But it bothers me that we
haven't found how this thing incubates. You know
how pernicious viruses are."

     She did. Viruses mutated, often after medicine was
introduced. She shivered. "Don't even think it."
  "I have to," he said. "I'm worried."
    "Dr. Kellec?" Nurse Ogawa called from the Ba-
joran section. "You need to come here."
    Kellec cursed. "It backfired. We should have known
better than to try this untested--"
    Pulaski put her hand on his arm. "Shhh. You're
jumping to conclusions."
    They both went into the next room. The patient
nearest the door, a young Bajoran girl, looked tired,
her skin sallow. She sat up, with a hand on her head.
"I'm hungry," she said with a bit of surprise.
    Pulaski opened her tricorder and ran it over the
girl. There wasn't a trace of the virus in her system.
Kellec was confirming the information on the biobed
readouts.
  "She's cured," Pulaski said.
He examined the readings another time.
"Which one was she?" Pulaski asked Ogawa.
"The least sick," Ogawa said. Her smile had grown
bigger. "And look, the next is losing some of that
healthy color."
    How odd that they were celebrating the fact that
their patients were looking less healthy, but it was
part of the disease to look that way. And part of the
cure to go back to the way they had looked before,
when they were subjected to all the difficulties of
Terok Nor.
    "Katherine," Kellec said softly. "We did it." And
then he flung his arms around her, pulling her close.
"We did it!"
  She hugged him back and let him dance her around
 the room. Finally, she put a hand on his arm. "Kellec,
 we have a lot of people to inject with this cure."
     "Yes," he said. "You make up a large batch, and I'll
 get going on injections."
     "I'11 take some down to Crystal in the Bajoran
 section," Ogawa mid.
     "Help her down there," Kellec said. "She'll need
 it."
     Ogawa smiled and left. Pulaski went into the office.
 The Bajorans were cured, but she didn't know about
 the Cardassians. Her heart stopped when she saw
 Narat.
    He was standing over a bed, his hands covering his
face, his body so hunched that he looked as if he were
in pain.
    "My god," she whispered. What had saved the
Bajorans had killed the Cardassians. And she had
been so careful to make sure they had the slightly
different injection.
      She went to the other room and put a hand on
Narat's shoulder. He was shaking.  "Narat?" she asked.
    He raised his head. "I didn't think we'd--I didn't
think--Look!" He pointed down. The Cardassian on
the bed, whom Pulaski recognized as one of the
guards, was his usual gray. His scales still flaked, but
they didn't look as irritated as they had. And his eyes
were bright.
    She ran her tricorder over him as well. The virus
was gone.
    "Narat," she said. "You gave me quite a scare. I
thought it hadn't worked."
    "Oh, but it did, Dr. Pulaski. Thanks to you, we're
all going to survive."

    "I think we all had a part in it," she said. She put an
arm around him and felt him lean against her. He
wasn't a Cardassian to her anymore. He was simply a
fellow doctor who had given up hope and didn't know
what to do now that hope had been restored.
    "Edgar," she said to Governo. "Start injecting our
Cardassian patients. Dr. Narat will help you in a
moment."
    Governo nodded. He took the hypospray out of
Narat's shaking hands. Pulaski led him into the office
and helped him to a chair.
  "I should be helping," he said. "I shouldw"
    "You have enough to do," she said. "Edgar can
handle things for the moment."
    Narat looked at her. "What do you mean I have
enough to do?"
    "You need to reach Gul Dukat," she said. "We have
to get this cure to Bajor." It was time to explain one
thing to him. Otherwise nothing would work. She
crouched. "Narat, I made a slightly different antidote
for the Cardassians than for the Bajorans. It had to
take into account the differences in physiology. I was
afraid the Bajoran cure would make the Cardassians
sick."
    "It worked," he said, and she let out a small sigh of
relief. He didn't ask any more questions.
    "I'm going to continue to make up batches of the
antidotes," she said. "The Cardassian version will be
in the blue vials."
    He nodded. Then he took a deep breath. "I didn't
expect to react this way. I've never reacted like
this--"
    "Have you ever been faced with something like this
before?"
 He shook his head.
    "Then give yourself a moment," she said. "Doctors
have feelings too, even though we pretend not to."
    She stood. Governo was injecting Cardassians all
over the medical section. It was nice to see two of
them back to their normal gray. The other test case
wasn't bright green either. His skin color was a
greenish gray that she assumed would become gray in
a short period of time.
    Kellec was smiling as he worked his way through
the Bajorans. She had forgotten how good-looking he
was when he smiled.
    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Narat stand.
He went to the console and pressed a section with his
palm. Dukat appeared on the small screen.
"I have good news," Narat said. "We found a cure."
Dukat closed his eyes and turned his head. Pulaski
moved so that she could watch the entire interaction
without being seen. Dukat let out a breath and then
seemed to regain control of himself. He again faced
the screen.
    "If we move quickly," Narat said, ignoring Dukat's
reaction, "we can save every life."
    "Then what are you talking to me for?" Dukat said.
"Do it."
 "I don't just mean on the station," Narat said.
    Dukat sucked in his breath. Pulaski threaded her
fingers together. This was the key point.
    "We need to get the information to Bajor, and
Cardassia Prime, in case the plague gets there. The
faster we do it, the better off we'll be."
    "Can they manufacture this antidote themselves or
must we make it for them?"
 "Both," Narat said. "Some areas may not have
anyone with the skills. I figure we take care of Terok
Nor first and then send supplies to the planet below.
Before that, though, I'll need to send the information
to both planets."
    "All right," Dukat said. He looked visibly relieved.
"Is there anything else?"
    Narat shook his head, but Pulaski stepped forward,
and put her hand on his arm. "If I might intrude,
Gul," she said.
     Dukat looked surprised to see her. So, in truth, did
Narat. He had apparently forgotten she was there.
 "Did you find the antidote?" Dukat asked.
 "All three of us did," she said.
    "We wouldn't have found it without her," Narat
said. "She brought a fresh perspective to the work."
    Dukat ternpied his fingers and rested the tips
against his mouth. He was contemplating her through
the screen. It made her as uncomfortable as he had
when they first met.
    "We have found the cure for the virus," she said,
"but we don't know how long the virus incubates.
People will still catch it, until we figure out a way to
stop it before the symptoms appear."
 "But they won't die?" Dukat asked.
 She nodded. "They will no longer die."
 "Good. Then what do you need?"
    "This is a designer virus," she said. "Someone
made it. If we could find out where it first appeared,
then we might be able to find who created it. Or at
least, figure out how it is transmitted in its nonviral
state."
    "I'm afraid I'm not a doctor," Dukat said. "I didn't
follow that."
    "You see," Pulaski started, but Narat put his hand
on her arm.
    "The virus has several stages," Narat said. "We've
caught it in all but the first stage. We're looking for
that one still. If we find that one, we can prevent this
virus from ever infecting us again."
 "So what do you need from me?" Dukat asked.
    "Permission to search for the source of the virus,"
Pulaski said.
 "And you believe that it's on Bajor?" Dukat asked.
    "I believe nothing," she said. "It could easily be
here. But we must cover all of our bases."
    "/believe it is on Bajor," Dukat said. "I believe the
Bajorans infected themselves so that they could pass
the disease onto us. They just didn't realize how lethal
it would be."
    "In my experience of the Bajoran people," Pulaski
said, "I have never seen such behavior. It violates all
of their beliefs2'
    "Forgive me, Doctor," Dukat said, "but your expe-
rience of the Bajoran people is of one rather eccentric
Bajoran doctor."
    "It seems you haven't read my file as carefully as I
thought you had," Pulaski said.
     Dukat shrugged. "I will not give you or your
assistants permission to go to Bajor." 
"If we find the source--"
     "I said, I will not give your people permission to go
to Bajor. I'm bending the rules to allow you here."
  She took a deep breath. "It's important--"
    "I understand that," Dukat said. "Narat will send a
Cardassian team to Bajor in the next day or two. That
will suffice."
 No, it wouldn't. It wouldn't suffice at all. They
would be looking for the wrong things. They would be
looking for proof of Dukat's theory, that the Bajorans
started this disease.
    "I think an impartial observer would be best," she
said.
    "And we have none, as you have just indicated,
Doctor. You and your people seem closer to the
Bajorans than I'm comfortable with." He smiled at
her. "I am very pleased with your work so far. Don't
spoil it."
    Narat's grip on her arm was firm. "We'll do what
you say, Gul Dukat," Narat said. 'TII have a team
ready."
    "Good. Prepare my announcement. I want to send
those messages to Bajor and Cardassia Prime within
the hour," Dukat said. Narat nodded.
    "One more thing," Dukat said. "I don't mean to
sound insensitive." He paused and as he did, Kellec
entered the room, but remained outside of Dukat's
sight range. "But I am getting pressure about the
decreased ore production. When do you believe we
can get our Bajorans back to work?"
    The question was directed at Narat, but Pulaski felt
herself start to answer. Narat's fingers dug so hard
into her arm that she nearly cried out in pain. 
"A few days," Narat said.
    "A few days is a long time, Narat," Dukat said.
"We're already disastrously far behind."
    Narat smiled. "Look at it this way," he said. "Just
an hour ago, you were worried about surviving. Now
you're worried about your future. Things have im-
proved."
    Dukat laughed. "So they have," he said, and signed
off.
    "Cardassian dog!" Kellec said, closing the door
behind him. "All they think about is how much slave
labor they can get out of us."
 Narat stiflened beside Pulaski.
    "Not all of them, Kellec," Pulaski said gently.
"Narat has a different perspective."
    "If you had a different perspective," Kellec said,
"you wouldn't have made that promise."
    "And what would you have had me do?" Narat
said. "Tell him nothing and let him make the deci-
sion?"
    They stared at each other for a moment. Finally,
Kellec looked away. "Katherine," he said, "I need
more of the antidote. I'm going to help with the work
below."
 "You've finished here?"
 "For now," he said.
    She nodded. "I have a batch already made up. I'll
have another by the time you get back."
    He picked up the vials she indicated, and then
shook his head. "If there weren't lives at stake, I
wonder if I would be doing this. I certainly don't
want to be the agent that forces our people back
into slave labor." And then he left himself out the
door.
    "He talks a big game," Pulaski said. "But he'll do
what's right."
 Narat nodded. "He's a good doctor."
    They were both silent for a moment and then
Pulaski said, "I'm afraid I don't think a Cardassian
team will do us any good."
"It's all you're going to get," Narat said. "We can be
impartial, you know."
    She didn't know that. She didn't believe it either.
That comment Gul Dukat made had angered her as
well. She hadn't realized that she was closer to Kel-
lec's beliefs than Narat's. But she said nothing. She
made herself smile at him. "Well, then," she said, "I
guess we have work to do."
    "Good work," Narat said. "We're back in the
business of saving lives."
    "Thank heavens," Pulaski said. She wasn't sure
how much more death she could take.




Chapter Seventeen

THE STENCH IN THE BAJORAN SECTION seemed worse
than it had just a few hours before. Kellec entered the
main corridor. The nightmare he had alleviated
above still existed down here, the sick people all over
the floors, the awful moaning, the heightened skin
color. He wished it all would end.
    He was carrying his kit with him. In the mess area,
Ogawa and Marvig were inoculating the sickest pa-
tients first. Bajorans who had no symptoms or who
had very few were helping find the sickest patients
and getting them treatment first. It looked like an
efficient system and Kellec wasn't going to interfere
with it.
    Instead, he went as far from that area as he could, to
a room he wasn't even supposed to know existed. The
Cardassian guards never came here; they thought it
was a supply closet, not knowing that the Bajorans
had long ago taken over the closet and made it a base.
    There were sick people lining the corridors here,
too. He bent over the nearest person--a young man,
barely into puberty, and gave him a hypospray. It
didn't take long for an older man to crouch beside
him.
 "Kellec," the man said.
 "Rashan," Kellec said. "Is Ficen Dobat still well?"
 "Well enough," Rashan said.
 "Could you find him for me?"
    Rashan nodded and disappeared down the corri-
dor. Kellec went from patient to patient, inoculating
each one, working as fast as he could. Soon he would
have to go back to the med lab to get more of the
antidote. He wasn't sure how he could look at Narat.
    Katherine was right, of course. Narat was a good
man who did what he could within the system. But
Kellec believed a man should do more than "what he
could within the system." If the system was flawed, a
man had to work outside it. But Kellec said nothing to
Narat. It would do no good.
    Katherine didn't know that yet. Kellec wished he
had arrived at the office just moments earlier. He had
been too far away when he saw her step near the
monitor. He had hurried to the office and held the
door open ever so slightly, hearing her every word.
    If only she had spoken to him first, perhaps Dukat
might not have noticed if she disappeared off the
station for a while. Kellec might have been able to
smuggle her to Bajor, for her and her crew to witness
the horrible conditions on the planet. Dukat would
never agree to that. And Kellec wished Katharine
hadn't told him her suspicions--all of their suspi-
cions actually--that the disease had originated on
Bajor.
    Dukat chose to look at that as a sign that the
Bajorans were infecting themselves so that they could
make the Cardassians ill. But Katherine was right; the
majority of Bajorans would find such a practice
abhorrent. Though there were deviants in every
group--he'd met a few in the resistance--they were
always dealt with by the group leader. The crazies
never got the upper hand.
    No. Kellec understood what had happened. It was
subtle and it was scary. The Cardassians had planted
the virus, just as he had always suspected, and had
done it on Bajor to make sure it would look like the
Bajorans had created the disease. He found it suspi-
cious that the disease hadn't made its way to Cardas-
sia Prime. It was just like the Cardassians--but not
the Bajorans--to sacrifice a few of their people for the
good of all of them. If only he could get to Bajor, or if
he could get someone there he could trust, he would
be able to prove this.
    At least Katherine had seen Dukat's true colors. He
wasn't worried about losing Bajorans. He was worried
about the drop in production. If Terok Nor failed to
meet its quotas, Dukat could lose his comfortable
position. And once the threat of death was removed,
that was all he cared about.
    He had moved far from the corridor he had started
in. He was almost out of the antidote. He would have
to go back to the medical lab in a moment. He
couldn't stall much longer. He didn't see any Cardas-
sian guards, but he couldn't assume that there weren't
any. The Cardassians would leave guards down here
until they were all dead. There just weren't as many as
usual, because the sickness had depleted the Cardas-
sian ranks as well.
    Kellec stood and put a hand against his back. The
moaning had quieted, and a few of the patients were
looking brighter-eyed than they had a short time
before. He smiled. At least he had been able to do this.
His work rarely gave him satisfaction anymore--he
was always repairing wounds that would never hap-
pen if the Cardassians didn't occupy Bajor--but this
did satisfy him. Just that morning, he had thought
everyone on Terok Nor would die. Everyone but
Katherine, her team, and those silly Ferengi.
    Rashan reappeared, silently, a talent of his. He put
his hand on Kellec's shoulder. "Is there anything I can
do?" he asked.
    "Check on the patients near the area where I
started," KeUec said.
    Rashan nodded. As he passed, he said under his
breath, "There are three Cardassian guards at the
mouth of the corridor. Have a care." And then he was gone.
    Kellec resisted looking in the direction Rashan had
indicated. Instead, he examined his kit to see how
much more antidote he had. Enough to stall for a few
more minutes.
    But he wouldn't have to. As he looked, he realized
that someone was standing beside him. He turned,
and found himself face to face with Ficen Dobat.
    "I understand you need a bit of help," Ficen said.
He was a small man, the kind who disappeared easily
in a crowd. Even when he was noticed, most people
couldn't describe him well--a Bajoran of average
height, brown hair, brown eyes, not very remarkable.
But Ficen was remarkable. He currently led the
resistance on Terok Nor, and he frequently accom-
plished the impossible.
  Kellec smiled. "We found an antidote."
    "Not a moment too soon," Ficen said. "We've
already lost some good people."
    They crouched near the kit. Kellec found a second
hypospray and pretended to fill it. He didn't dare let
Ficen use it--the man was untrained--but if those
Cardassians poked their heads in this corridor, it
would look as if he were helping Kellec. 
"I have a favor to ask," Kellec said.
    "Anything," Ficen said. "You've saved us, once
again."
    "Remember that when I make this request," Kellec
said.
 Ficen frowned.
     "I need someone to go to Bajor for me. I need to
find the source of this disease." "The source?"
 "Where it was first reported."
 "And you think that was on Bajor?"
    Kellec met Ficen's gaze. "I need to know, to clear
this completely from all of us."
    "Our people--" Ficen began, but Kellec held up a
hand.
    "I think the Cardass'runs started this and tried to
make it look like we did it," Kellec said. "That prob-
ably means it started in a resistance cell somewhere,
probably a place that's fairly centrally located."
    "No resistance cell could be infiltrated by the
Cardassians," Ficen said.
 "Are you implying that we did this, just like the
Cardassians say?. Do we have cells that desperate?"
Kellec said.
    Ficen frowned. "Desperate times call for desperate
measures."
    "But this?" Kellec said. "Surely we wouldn't do
this." He swept his hand over the corridor.
    Ficen shook his head. "Of course not," he said.
"But we know what it's like here, and it's easy even
for us to contemplate the idea. Imagine how easy it is
for the Cardassians."
    "The ones who aren't already in the know," Kellec
said.
    Ficen sighed. "I don't think sending one of our
people there is a good idea."
    "I don't see any other choice," Kellec said. "Dukat
is sending a team of his own to Bajor to investigate
this. You know what he'll find."
    Ficen cursed. "If they believe we did this, they'll
retaliate."
    "That's why we need real information, gathered by
our own people." Kellec glanced over his shoulder.
No guards so far. "But it has to be people we can
trust."
 Ficen nodded. "I'll see what I can do."
 "Not good enough," Kellec said.
    Ficen stood and handed the hypospray back to
Kellec. "All right then," he said. "I'll let you know as
soon as our team leaves Terok Nor."
 Kellec smiled. "That's better," he said.




Chapter Eighteen

KIRA WAS VIOLATING HER AGREEMENT with Odo, but she
had to. Ever since she had heard that a representative
of the Federation was on Terok Nor, she'd been trying
to figure out a way to make contact. And if Odo's
report was accurate, she had to do so quickly. She had
been exposed to the virus, and didn't have a lot of
time left before she would have to seek out medical
attention. She had heard that Kellec and his team had
found a cure to the disease, but only after sonleone
already had symptoms.
  She wasn't looking forward to that.
    She was in the habitat ring, near the quarters
assigned to newcomers. It had taken her most of the
evening to find where their rooms were located; she
couldn't ask anyone, and her computer skills, while
good, weren't good enough to find all of the alarm
triggers the Cardassians had built into the system.
    The only thing she had working for her was that as
many Cardassians were sick as Bajorans. There were
very few guards, and the ones she had seen were more
preoccupied with the state of their own good health
than with keeping an eye on Bajorans. Kira made sure
she was wearing tattered old clothes, and she kept her
hair tousled, so that she looked as if she were strug-
gling-either with ore production or keeping her
family alive somewhere.
    She was struggling; that much was true. All of her
contacts here were either ill or dying. She still hadn't
found Ficen and she didn't know how to ask for him.
Most of the Bajorans in the Bajoran section were
preoccupied with their own families; they couldn't
keep track of anything else.
    Since she had arrived, she had been uneasy, fright-
ened. She wished she could see Kellec Ton, but that
was clearly becoming impossible. She thought of
approaching the Federation assistants who were
working in the Bajoran section. She had even come
close to them once, close enough to overhear their
discussions and to realize they weren't in charge of
this mission. They were all on their first assignment
outside Federation space, and were as baffled by it all
as new recruits always were when brought into their
first resistance cell.
    No. She was in this corridor because she had no
other choice. She hoped no one had found her tracks
yet in the computer system. She had looked up several
things, just in case someone was trying to find her,
and had buried her request among half a dozen
others. She figured it would give her time.
    It had also given her the access code to the visitors'
quarters' door. She hoped the Federation doctor
wasn't paranoid enough to change her locks when she
arrived. This would be the test.
    Kira moved away from the wall and turned to the
door. She punched the access override code into the
1ockmand heard the door shush open. One more step
completed.
    The quarters were dark. Apparently the doctor
liked to sleep in total blackness. Kira stood com-
pletely still for a moment, letting her eyes adjust.
  They did.
    She listened, and heard deep, even breathing from
the next room.
    This was her first opportunity with the Federation
doctor. The woman hadn't come to her quarters until
very late. As Kira's eyes got used to the light, she saw
clothing scattered on a nearby chair. Kira had heard
that the woman had been awake for thirty-five hours
straight. When she got to the room, she probably
couldn't wait to get to sleep.
    Well, Kira had no choice but to interrupt that sleep.
She knew the layout of the quarters. It was like all
others in this side of the habitat ring: a large main
room, with a sleeping room to the right, replicators
and the bathroom to the left. Kira slipped into the
bedroom, and said softly, "Computer, low-level am-
bient light."
    She wasn't sure if that gambit would work, but it
did. Apparently the computer was programmed in the
guest quarters to accept commands from any voice.
The lights came up just a little, relieving the complete
darkness and adding a very faint golden glow to the
room.
 The bed was in the center of everything. The
woman who had been sleeping there was older than
Kira had expected, and she wasn't particularly beauti-
ful-which struck Kira as odd. With Kellec Ton's
natural charm and good looks, she would have as-
sumed he would have found a gorgeous mate. Appar-
ently he was attracted to nice-looking women with a
lot of brains.
    "Who're you?" the womanmPulaski, wasn't it?-
asked. She was amazingly calm, given that she had
just awakened to find a stranger in her bedchamber.
    "My name doesn't matter," Kira said. "And I don't
have a lot of time, so please listen to me."
    Pulaski sat up in bed, adjusted the blankets around
her, and pushed brown hair out of her eyes. "Comput-
er," she said, as if Kira hadn't spoken, "how long have
I been asleep?"
"One hour, three minutes, and forty-five seconds."
She sighed and leaned her head against the head-
board. "One hour, three minutes, and forty-five sec-
onds. I was hoping for at least two hours." She looked
up at Kira. "This had better be good."
    "I would like you to come with me to Bajor," Kira
said.
    Pulaski frowned, just a little. "I've already been
through this with GUl Dukat. I'm afraid I can't leave
the station."
      "He doesn't have to know," Kira said. "I'll smuggle
you down there and I'll bring you back."  
"How is that possible?" Pulaski asked.
    "I was on Bajor just two days ago. There are ways,"
Kira said. Her hands were damp. She was nervous. "I
understand you've found a cure. They don't need you
up here right now--"
    "On the contrary," Pulaski said. "They do need
me. The cure is only effective if someone is sympto-
matic. That means this disease can still spread all
over the quadrant because we haven't found a way to
take care of it in its incubation phases."
    "But that's not urgent," Kira said. "Taking you to
Bajor is."
    "And why is that?" Pulaski asked. "We've already
sent them the formula for the antidote, and we're
sending some live cure down in shuttles. I'm not
needed."
    "You are," Kira said. "Not as a doctor. As an
observer. We've been trying to get Federation repre-
sentatives to Bajor for a long time, to see the condi-
tions the Cardassians have imposed on us during the
Occupation. Please. I'll take you to a few places, and
we can do it quickly. No one will know you're gone.
There are rumors of Federation negotiations with
the Cardassians. We--"
 Pulaski held up her hand. "I'm sorry," she said.
    "No." Kira clenched her fists. "I won't take no for
an answer. I won't. We need you."
    Pulaski closed her eyes for a moment, then leaned
her head back. It seemed as if she were making a
decision. Finally she opened her eyes and looked at
Kira.
    "Now it's your turn to listen to me," Pulaski said
softly. "The Cardassians didn't want us here. We had
to agree to a lot of terms before we could arrive."
    "One of them was turning your back on Bajoran
suffering?" Kira asked.
    "That's not fair," Pulaski said. "We're here because
of Bajoran suffering."
    "And Cardassian. I guess those rumors were cor-
rect. You are working with the Cardassians."
    Pulaski shook her head. "I am here as a consultant
on this disease only. I have strict orders to stay out of
the political fights. In fact, I have to."
    "Have to." Kira took a step forward. How many
times had she heard that argument before? "Of
course. You have to. So you won't see the atrocities
being committed under your nose. So that you have
deniability."
    "I didn't say that." Somehow Pulaski's voice was
still calm... what would it take to get this woman
riled up? "What I did say was that in order to come
here, we had to agree to terms. Or we wouldn't have
been able to come at all."
"What does that have to do with me?" Kira said.
"Everything." Pulaski got out of bed. She was
wearing a nightshirt, and her feet were bare. She
grabbed a robe from her suitcase. She apparently
hadn't even had time to unpack. "If the Cardassians
find out that I was meeting with a Bajoran in my
quarters, I would be reprimanded at best."
    "You're afraid of a reprimand from Gul Dukat?"
Kira couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice.
    Pulaski shook her head. "One of the terms we
agreed to was that if one of my team got caught
spying--or there was a suspicion of spyingrowe
would all be killed."
"That's traditional Cardassian rhetoric," Kira said.
"You don't believe they'd do it?" Pulaski asked.
"Oh, they would if they caught you. But right now
they're not going to catch anyone. So many of the
Cardassians are sick, and those that aren't are con-
cerned about staying well. It's a perfect scenario. Like
I said, they won't miss you."
    Pulaski's smile was small. "I wish I had your
confidence in that. But I'm responsible for three other
lives, and I'm not willing to risk them."
    "How Starfleet of you," Kira said. "Your lives are
so much more important than ours."
    "You have quite a temper, don't you?" Pulaski
asked.
  Kira felt a flush build.
    "It prevents you from seeing clearly." Pulaski took
a step closer to Kira. They weren't that far apart now.
Pulaski was slightly taller, but Kira was in better
shape. She could kidnap the lady doctor and get her
on that shuttle with no trouble at all.  
"I see clearly enough," Kira said.
    "Then you understand why I don't risk my team,"
Pulaski said.
    "Because you are afraid of violating an agreement
with the Cardassians." Kira spit out that last.
    Pulaski shook her head. "We've had the privilege of
coming to Terok Nor. As far as I know, no other
Federation group--official or unofficial--has come
here. I have spent most of my time in the medical lab,
but my assistants have been all over the station, caring
for Cardassians and Bajorans. The majority of the
work two of my team members have done has been in
the Bajoran section."
    Pulaski stopped there. The words hung between
them. Kira was beginning to understand where Pulas-
ki was going, but wasn't sure she wanted to join her.
    Pulaski's face was filled with compassion. "The
Cardassians have worked hard to keep up their little
fiction that everything is going well. But they've been
having trouble doing so. As you said, there are very
few guards and very little security right now. And my
teams have had to venture into areas that I'm sure
would have been off-limits otherwise."
"It's not the same as seeing Bajor," Kira said.
"No," Pulaski said. "It's not. But it will have to do.
We'll be debriefed when we leave. And we'll be
honest. We won't have to make anything up."
    "You're trying to pretend that you sympathize with
us when you make agreements with the Cardassians."
    Pulaski's shoulders sagged. "If I were a Cardassian
sympathizer, do you think I would have been married
to Kellec Ton?"
 "But you aren't any longer."
    "That's right," Pulaski said. "Yet he's the one who
asked for my help. There are many qualified doctors
in Starfleet--and many unaffiliated ones all over the
quadrant. Why do you think he asked for me?"
    Kira crossed her arms and turned away. The wom-
an had a point. A good point. Kira was letting her own
disappointment blind her. She wanted the Federation
group to come to Bajor so badly. She needed someone
there. She felt if there were outside observers, things
would change. They had to change--
     She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked back to
see Pulaski's calm eyes measuring her.
  "You could do us a favor, though."
  "Us?" Kira said.
  "Kellec and me."
  Kira frowned. "How?"
    "I tried to get permission to go to Bajor today. Gul
Dukat refused, understandably. He's as afraid of
letting me go down there as you are desirous of it.
And probably for the same reason. He's worried
about what information I'd take back to the Federa-
tion."
 "I know," Kira said. "If youw"
    "Please," Pulaski said. "Let me finish. We need to
find the source of the virus."
 "I thought you had a cure."
    "We do, but it's not as effective as we'd like. We'd
like a cure that destroys this virus completely. I don't
know if you've been told, but this is a designer
virus--"
 "I know," Kira said.
    "Then you understand that someone created it and
someone planted it somewhere, we're not sure where.
I wanted to go to Bajor to search for the source of the
disease, but Dukat said no. He assigned a Cardassian
team to conduct the search."
    "Cardassians!" Kira pulled away. "You know what
kind of search they'll do. They'll search until they
have enough to prove that Bajorans did this thing,
and then they'll use it as an excuse to slaughter
hundreds of us."
    "That's what I'm afraid of," Pulaski said. "So we
need a pre-emptive strike. If you would go to Bajor
and get this information on where the virus started
before the Cardassians do, then we have two chances.
The first is to find a solution that neutralizes this
disease completely, and the second is to prevent the
very scenario you're describing. If I can go to Dukat
with proof that the virus started somewhere and it
was brought inwor, even better, we can find the
virus's designershe'll have to call off his team. He
wouldn't dare slaughter Bajorans in revenge. Not in
front of a Federation observer."

    "No," Kira said bitterly. "He'll wait until you're
gone."
    "And by then, the Bajorans at risk will have disap-
peared, won't they?" Pulaski asked.
    Kira frowned. She had completely misjudged this
woman. No wonder Kellec Ton had been attracted to
her. Beneath that calm exterior, she had the courage
of a Bajoran.
 "Yes," Kira said slowly. "They could disappear."
 "Good," Pulaski said.
    "Before I go, I'd like to check with Kellec Ton, see if
he agrees with the plan."
 "Then do so," Pulaski said.
    Kira shook her head. "It's not that easy. I can't
move about freely in the Cardassian sections."
    "Then I'll make certain he's in the Bajoran section
in~what?mforty-five minutes?"
    Kira should be able to make it back by then.
"That'll do."
    "Good," Pulaski said. She headed back toward the
bed. "I understand your need to check up on me. But
you'll find I'm on the level. I'm sure Kellec will have
no objections to your trip to the surface."
    "If you send Cardassian guards, I'll shoot them,"
Kira said.
     "If I send Cardassian guards," Pulaski said, "you
have every right to shoot me." "Don't think I won't."
    Pulaski smiled. "l know better than to double-cross
a person like you," she said. "After all, I was once
married to one. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll contact
Kellec, and then try to catch at least another hour of
sleep."
    Kira nodded. She couldn't quite bring herself to
thank Pulaski--things hadn't gone as well as Kira
had hoped. But they were still moving forward. And
Kira felt as if she were being useful for the first time
since this plague began.
    And for her, being in the fight was always better
than standing on the sidelines watching.


Chapter Nineteen

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT WENT WRONG," Kellec said. He
was in the office staring through the door at the green
Cardassians staggering in and the Bajorans brought
up from below. Pulaski was at his side. She had never
felt so discouraged in her life.
    "Obviously something did," Narat said, and Pulas-
ki could hear the blame in his voice. The two of them
got along fine when things were moving well, but now
they weren't getting along at all. They were taking the
problems out on each other.
    Reports of illness had started to come in only an
hour ago. Now they had an official run on the reed
lab. Patients who had been cured ten hours ago were
coming back, the sickness obviously in its early
stages. A few had waited until the early stages were
long past, and so, Pulaski believed, continued passing
the disease on to others.

    "Something did go wrong," she said without turn-
ing around. Governo was handling the Cardassians as
he did before. She had instructed him to give them
another dose of the antidote. Marrig was still in the
Bajoran section, but Nurse Ogawa had come up with
some of the sicker Bajorans to get them better treat-
ment in the med lab.
 "You know what it is?" Narat asked.
    Pulaski nodded. Kellec was looking at her too. She
let the door between the office and the main room
close.
    "If you think about it, you know just as well as I
do," she said. "We haven't found how the virus starts.
We have succeeded in preventing these patients from
dying, but they're clearly reinfecting themselves."
"Or picking up the virus elsewhere," Narat said.
She shook her head. "I don't think so. Even when a
patient caught the disease from the virus--and could
prove that it wasn't incubating--that patient took at
least two days to show signs of illness. These patients
are coming back within ten to twelve hours."
    "That means," Kellec said, "that the infecting
agent isn't the virus."
    Pulaski nodded. "Perhaps if we run some cultures,
we can imitate the course of this reinfection in the
lab."
  "It should work," Kellec said.
    "We should examine some of our older cultures as
well," Narat said, his irritation with Kellec obviously
forgotten.
  "Good idea," Kellec said.
    "It's not quite as hopeless," Pulaski said. "At least
we have a point to work from."
     The office door opened. Governo peeked in. "May I
see you for a moment?" he asked Pulaski.  She walked over to him.
    'Tm doing what you said," he said softly, "but I'm
a little worried about reinjecting these Cardassians
with the antidote. I mean, we don't know what this
will do in high quantities in the body."
 "The boy has a good point," Narat said.
    "Yes, he does," Pulaski said. She put a hand on
Governo's shoulder. "Just continue for now, Edgar.
Whatever happens, it's better than dying for these
poor people."
    He nodded and went back into the main room.
Pulaski closed the door again and leaned on it. The
exhaustion she had been trying to fight was coming
back, worse than before. "We're going to have to
notify Bajor and Cardassia Prime."
    "I suspect they already know," Ton said. "Let's not
waste our time on that."
    "No," she said. "We have to. What if they've sent
patients away, thinking they were cured, and they
can't get back to a medical facility?"
    "They would have done it twelve hours ago, Kathe-
rine," Kellec said. "We have to focus our efforts
here."
    "Kellec is right," Narat said. "At this moment,
everything we do should go toward finding the correct
solution."
    Pulaski nodded. But something was flitting around
at the edge of her consciousness. Something she
vaguely remembered--
    "One of us should be doing as your assistant
implied, Katherine." Kellec was standing near his
console. "One of us should see if there are detrimental
effects from too much antidote. We have to know
where our limits are."
    She looked at him. She knew he was going to
suggest that Narat do it.
    "You two found the cure in the first place," Narat
said. "I'm not the researcher that you both are. You
continue your search for the virus's origins. I'll inves-
tigate the effect of the antidote."
    Pulaski let out a breath she hadn't even known she
was holding. She made herself look away from Kellec,
afraid that she would show her relief too clearly.
    "All right." She walked over to the console. "Still,
something more is bothering me. Something I feel I
should know--"
    "There were rumors," Kellec said, "that the Fede-
ration dealt with a similar plague, but I don't know
the details."
    "Of course," Pulaski said. "That's why this is
bothering me."
    "That was one of the reasons I asked permission to
get you to come here. I figured you would know."
    "I do know," she said. "The Enterprise, the ship I
was on, dealt with it. But I never read the files. I
always meant to--in fact, I was supposed to go
through all of Crusher's logs, but I simply didn't have
time. I looked at the overview and went on with my
day-to-day work."
    "That's not going to help us, Katherine," Kellec
said. "You--"
    "What is the meaning of this?" The office door
crashed open and Dukat strode inside followed by
three guards. One of them could barely stand. He was
a light gray-green.

    All three doctors glanced at each other. They had
agreed moments ago to stall telling Dukat as long as
possible.
    "We told you, sir," Narat said, "that we can only
treat a patient once the symptoms appear."
    "Do I look like an idiot to you?" Dukat asked. His
voice was lower than it had been a moment ago, and
seemed a lot more menacing. "I have sent newly
infected people back to the med lab for their shots.
Those people are fine. But Linit here nearly died
yesterday of this disease, and now he's got it again!
You told me this was a cure."
 "I know," Narat said. "But--"
    Pulaski put a hand on his arm to quiet him. Narat
seemed panicked by Dukat's anger, and panic would
not do in this circumstance.
    "When we told you about the cure," she said, "we
also told you that it wasn't complete."
    "You didn't tell me this would happen," Dukat
said.
    "We didn't know. We hoped the cure would hold
once it killed the virus. But our patients seem to be
reinfecting themselves." "Themselves?"
    "Yes," she said. "It's coming from within. That
may sound bad to youmand I must admit, none of us
are too happy about this turn of events--but it is
good news in a way. It gives us something to base our
new research on. It gives us hope."
    "Hope! We had hope when we thought we'd gotten
rid of this disease."
    "We can get rid of it," Narat said. "For a few hours
anyway."
 "What good will that do?" Dukat asked.
  "It'll prevent anyone from dying," Kellec said.
      Dukat's lips thinned. He turned away from Kellec.
"I'm very unhappy about this," Dukat said.  "We all are," Pulaski said.
    "Yeah," Kellec said. "You would save us a lot of
grief if you would just ask your people what the
source of the virus was."
  "Kellec!" Pulaski said.
    "No," Dukat said. "That's fine. He can accuse us all
he wants. It covers his Bajoran tracks. You're reinfect-
ing everyone, aren't you, Kellec? That way no one gets
off this station alive, and the Cardassians get the
blame."
    "You know better--" Kellec started forward, but
Pulaski grabbed him.
    "Both of you, stop it," she said. "You're acting like
children."
    She glanced at Narat for help but he hadn't moved.
He was looking terrified.
    "Fighting won't get us anywhere." She kept her
hands on Kellec, but stepped between him and Dukat.
"I've been with Kellec all day, and he hasn't done
anything to reinfect your people. He hasn't had the
opportunity. And you," she said, turning to Kellee,
"can't you see how terrified he is? If he knew how this
thing started, he wouldn't be this afraid." 
"I am not afraid," Dukat said.
    Kellec had the common sense to say nothing. Only
grunt.
    Dukat's eyes narrowed, but he also said nothing.
Narat's gaze met Pulaski's. "She's right, you know,"
he said. "This is a time when we have to put aside our
differences."
 "It's getting very hard to do," Dukat said. "You
gave us all hope yesterday and today it's gone. That's
worse than having no hope in the first place."
      "But I already explained what this means," Pulaski
said. "It means we have a chance."  "I don't see it," Dukat said.
    "There's one option we haven't tried," Kellec said.
He eased himself away from Pulaski's hand. "Kathe-
rine and I were discussing it when you so nicely
knocked and asked if you could come in."
  "Kellec," Pulaski said warningly.
    "And what's that?" Dukat asked, obviously choos-
ing to ignore Kellec's tone.
    "Katherine says the Enterprise dealt with some-
thing similar over a year ago. Remember when I asked
you if she could come aboard, I told you there were
rumors about this?"
    Dukat turned his flat gaze to Pulaski. "So you have
records of this?"
    "No," she said, "and that's the problem. What I do
know of it is very sketchy. But it wouldn't take long to
get the information. The Enterprise is the ship that's
waiting to pick us up, just outside Cardassian space."
    "What a wonderful opportunity to bring a starship
to Terok Nor," Dukat said, and to Pulaski he sounded
just like Kellec. She took a deep breath, forcing
herself to remain calm. They deserved each other. All
this fighting and lack of reason. No wonder no one
knew how to solve the problems between their two
planets.
    "I wasn't suggesting that," she said, working very
hard to keep her voice level. "I would like to contact
the Enterprise and have them send the records here."
    Dukat frowned, as if her response surprised him.
Then he said, "I will contact the Enterprise."
    "I'm sorry, Gul," she said, slipping back into her
diplomatic mode, "but they won't give this informa-
tion to you. You're not a doctor." "Then Narat--"
    "They'll wonder why I haven't asked," she said.
"It's a simple request, really. You can monitor it."
    Dukat's reptilian smile filled his face. "That would
work. You may make the request, from my office."
    "Katherine, I don't think that's a good idea,"
Kellec said.
    "Do you want the information or not?" Dukat
asked.
    "1 think we need it," Kellec said. "I just don't see
why she can't send the message from here."
    "Because," Dukat said, "it will interfere with your
work. Yours and Narat's. You may come up with a
solution on your own, while she's gone."
 "It's all right, Kellec," she said. 'TII be fine."
    "You don't know what this man is capable of,"
Kellec said.
    She sighed. "I think, at the moment, we all have the
same goals."
     Dukat tilted his head, and smiled mockingly at
Kellec. "I think your wife--" "Ex-wife," Kellec said.
    "--is telling us we can resume our loathing of each
other when the crisis is past."
    Kellec crossed his arms. "Thanks, but I plan to
continue my loathing all the way through the crisis."
    "Then 1'11 remove you and place you back in the
Bajoran section," Dukat said.
    "Oh," Kellec said. "I promise the loathing won't
get in the way of my work. But, unlike you, I can't
shut off my emotions when dealing with others. I see
the consequences of each action."
    Pulaski put her hand on Dukat's arm and started to
lead him out of the office. "Each moment we delay is a
moment that we need," she said to him.
    He let her guide him into the main room. Cardassi-
ans were returning at a rate of two or three a minute.
He grimaced at their green skin, the flaking scales,
and she felt a shudder run through him.
    "I would hope," she said, because she couldn't keep
silent, "that you watch Kellec's actions, instead of
listening to his words."
    "I'm keeping a close eye on his actions," Dukat
said. "I know what kind of a man he is."
    They stepped into the Promenade and Dukat re-
laxed visibly.
    "What surprises me," he continued, "is why you
married him."
 She smiled. "He's brilliant man."
 "He's a fool."
    "He hates witnessing pain. The Cardassians have
caused a lot of pain on Bajor."
    "The Bajorans brought it on themselves," Dukat
said.
 "I don't think the Bajorans would agree with that."
    "What do you know?" Dukat asked. "You haven't
observed our people."
    "No," she said, "and I'm not trained in the subject.
All I see is hatred on both sides. One day that will hurt
you all."
 "If we live through this plague," he said.
    "That's my responsibility," she said. "I plan to see
that you do."





Chapter Twenty

THE IMAGE OF DOZENS OF DEAD bodies piled on top of a
cart like so much deadwood came back again, super-
imposed on the image of the stars she was gazing at
through the Ten-Forward window, and pushing the
voices of the Enterprise crew into the background.
But this time Beverly Crusher didn't try to push the
image away the way she usually did. She let herself
remember the limbs jutting awkwardly, the tags on
their toes, and just the sheer number of dead piled
high in the Archarian hospital because there was no
more room in the morgue.
    That was Crusher's first view of the plague on
Archaria III and the image that stayed burned in her
mind. Thousands more died before she had found a
cure.
 But the image of those bodies never went away.

    Neither did the memory of sixteen of her crew-
mates, including Deanna Troi, suffering the intense,
crippling pain that seemed to twist from the inside,
eating them alive like a monster Crusher couldn't see.
And at the time couldn't fight.
    It had taken Crusher some months to stop having
nightmares.
    But now the nightmares were back. The situation
on Bajor seemed so similar to Archaria III. And she
had helped Dr. Pulaski to walk into it basically alone.
If only she had been able to go along, that would have
been better than waiting here. But her request had
been denied.
    And she had been relieved .... She didn't want to
face another plague. Not again. Not so soon. She
didn't think she could handle another roomful of
bodies piled on top of one another.
    A gentle touch on her arm brought her back to
the stars and the muffled conversation in the lounge.
She turned and smiled at Captain Jean-Luc Pi-
card, whose hand was resting comfortably on her
arm.
    "She's a good doctor," he said. He could still read
her clearly. She had been annoyed at that a year ago.
Then she discovered, in her short stint at Starfleet
Medical, that she missed it.
    Crusher nodded. Dr. Pulaski was. But even the best
needed help at times. And it felt so frustrating not to
be able to be there giving that help, instead of sitting
here sipping Earl Grey tea.
    "I know she's good," said Crusher. "That's not the
problem. The problem is me. I hate waiting."
 "Don't we all," the Captain said.
    He was waiting too, waiting to hear from Pulaski.
And he had served with the woman for the last year.
He had to be worried. But in typical Jean-Luc
fashion, he didn't say anything. He was willing to
listen to her.
    Over the last few days Ten-Forward had become
Crusher's haven. Dr. Pulaski had left the medical
areas in better shape than they'd been in a year ago,
and it had only taken Crusher a day to get settled
back in. Since the Enterprise was simply standing by
on the Cardassian border, waiting for two weeks,
there was very little for her to do. Being alone just
wasn't what she needed at the moment, so she often
sought company from whoever she found in the
lounge. She didn't always talk. Sometimes she just let
the buzz of conversation flow over her while she
drank tea.
And thought of that pile of bodies on Archaria III.
She smiled at the captain, then took a sip of her
tea, letting its perfumy flavor push the image of death
back for a moment. "Thanks for joining me," she
said.
    He shrugged slightly. "We missed you last year. I
missed you. I thought we might take this opportunity
to get caught up."
She laughed. "And so I sit staring out the window."
"Sometimes," the captain said, "that's the best
kind of catching up."
    She smiled at him. She had missed him and the
Enterprise a great deal. She had used Wesley as her
main reason for returning, but in truth, there were
many reasons.
 "Dr. Crusher," Data's voice broke into the moment
over the comm link. "You have an emergency incom-
ing call from Dr. Pulaski on Terok Nor."
    She was on her feet and headed for the screen built
into the wall of Ten-Forward before she answered.
"Put it through to here."
    A moment later she had dodged around two tables
and was at the screen as Dr. Pulaski's face appeared.
Behind her stood a stern-looking Cardassian.
    Crusher managed not to gasp at what she saw. In
just a few short days Pulaski looked as if she'd lived
a dozen years, all without sleep. A week before, a
neat, polished doctor had turned the medical area
over to her; now Pulaski had deep circles under her
eyes, her hair looked like it hadn't been combed in
years, and a dark smudge of something streaked her
neck.
    And her eyes seemed almost haunted, as if she were
seeing things no human should ever see.
    "Dr. Crusher," Pulaski said, her voice level as
always, "I need your help."
    "Anything," Crusher said as Captain Picard moved
up behind her.
    "I need your records from the plague on Archaria
III. It seems we may be dealing with something
similar here."
 Crusher nodded. "I was afraid of that."
    "Can you send the records?" Pulaski asked. She
was wasting no time. Crusher knew exactly how that
felt.
    Crusher glanced around at the captain, even
though he would have nothing to do with this deci-
sion. The records of the plague on Archaria III were
classified and under the direct control of Starfleet
Medical. And since she was no longer in charge of
Starfleet Medical, it was no longer her decision as to
whether or not to release those records.
    "How bad is it?" Crusher asked, trying to buy
herself a little time to think. To get a message
to Starfleet Medical from this distance could take
a day, maybe more. And there was always a
chance--a strong chance, considering the location
of the plague--that they might turn her request
down.
    "It's bad," Pulaski said. "I wouldn't be making
this request if I didn't think those records might
help."
    "Understood," Crusher said. "I'll need to--" The
image of the bodies on Archaria III floated back to
her mind. She had been about to say she would have
to get clearance from Starfleet Medical, but in that
time how many on Bajor would die?
    How many deaths would it cost for her to follow the
rules exactly?
 Even one was too many.
    She would get permission from Starfleet Medi-
cal after the records were sent. She had a few favors
she could call in yet. She'd make them under-
stand.
    But that would take time. Time Dr. Pulaski didn't
have.
    She faced Pulaski directly. "Doctor, the encoded
records will be downloaded to you within the next
minute. Please stand by on this channel."
 Pulaski's relief was obvious. "Thank you."
    "Is there anything more we can do?" she asked,
half-hoping Pulaski would invite her to Terok Nor.

Crusher wanted to be busy. She could always say that
the situation forced her to disobey the initial orders
from Starfleet Medical.
    "This just might be enough," Pulaski said. "Stand-
ing by."
 The image went blank.
    Crusher tapped her combadge. "Data, please down-
load on the open line to Terok Nor all medical
information from the Archaria III incident. Medical
only. Let me know when you are finished."
  "Understood," Data said.
  She turned to the captain.
    'I know I didn't follow procedure. I'll make it right
with Starfleet Medical, though. It won't be a problem
for you, Jean-Luc."
    "I'm not worried about that, Beverly." His tone
was warm. "I would have suggested you take the
course of action you chose. It's clearly very bad
there."
 "How can you tell?" she asked.
    "The Cardassian behind Dr. Pulaski," the captain
said. "That was GUl Dukat himself."
    Crusher instantly knew what the captain was say-
ing. The image of the Archarian bodies came back.
Crusher hadn't been able to save her, but maybe this
time the bodies wouldn't be so numerous that they'd
have to pile them in Terok Nor's infirmary.
  "Data to Dr. Crusher."
  "Go ahead," she said.
 "All records have been sent."
 "Thank you," she said.
    She looked at the captain. "Now I guess it's time I
faced the music with Starfleet Medical."
    "We face the music," he said, taking her arm and
heading her toward the door. "I was on Archaria III
also. Remember?"
    The image of the dead bodies came back again.
Crusher squeezed the captain's hand in thanks. "How
could I forget?"

Chapter Twenty-one

AH, THE SOUND OF CONVERSATION and laughter in his
bar. Quark leaned against the back wall and closed his
eyes. How he had missed this. It wasn't just the sound
of the Dabo wheel and the silly girl's voice crying
"Dabo!" or the clink of glasses, or even the silent
accumulation of latinum as it made its way from his
patrons' hands to his pockets. No. It was the feeling
that he was in a viable business once more.
    He was almost grateful to the plague. It had been
such a traumatic experience that those who felt they
had dodged it were coming into Quark's, wanting to
drink themselves into oblivion. He was going to let
them.
 "Brother."
    Of course Rom wouM interrupt Quark's reverie.
Any time Quark felt that things were going his way, he
had to be reminded of the presence of his stupid
brother.
    "What?" Quark asked, opening his eyes. Five more
Cardassians were coming into the bar, laughing and
slapping each other on the back.
 "Brother, I have something to tell you."
     "Well, it can wait," Quark said. "See those five?
They're new customers and they need to buy drinks."
  "Brother--"
    "This is about making profits, Rom," Quark said.
"Remember. 'A Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at
all.'"
    "Brother, please don't quote the rules to me," Rom
said. "I have something to tell you."
    Quark leaned forward. "I'11 make you recite every
one of the rules if you don't get to work."
    "Ah, yes, brother." Rom scurried toward the center
of the bar, balancing a tray precariously on one hand.
    Quark shook his head and began to make drinks.
He already knew what three of those Cardassians
would have. They were regulars, at least when they
were well. And they were well now.
    A Cardassian stood up in the back. Quark frowned.
He had seen this before. He had a sinking sensation in
his stomach. Maybe the lighting was bad. Maybe the
Cardassian had sp'filed his drink. Maybe. There had
to be some other explanation for the green color of his
skin and the way he was swaying.
    Quark slid out the side of the bar and hurried
toward the Cardassian. If he got the Cardassian out of
here before the man collapsed, there might be a
chance that no one else would notice. Some kind of
chance.

 Any kind of chance.
    Quark was halfway there when the Cardassian fell
backwards.
    All noise in the bar stopped. The Cardassian's
companion stood and looked down at his fallen
friend.
    "This can't be right," he said. "He just got over the
plague."
    It was enough to start a stampede to the door.
Quark grabbed at customers. "Don't believe them,"
he said. 'Tm sure they misunderstood. Maybe he had
been misdiagnosed. Surelyre"
    But no one was listening to him. They streamed out
as if they were afraid they would suddenly topple over
backwards, their skin a lovely shade of lime green.
Even the Dabo girl had disappeared. "Brother," Rom said.
    Quark held up a hand. "Don't say a word to me. I
don't want to hear it."
    He headed back to the bar. It had taken five hours
to fill the place up again, and only two minutes to
empty it out. Except for the Cardassian on the floor.
Moaning.
 "Call a reed team, would you, Rom?"
    Rom gaped at him. "But brother, last time you
made us--"
    "I know what I did last time," Quark said. "There
was no one in the bar then. Unless it was my imagina-
tion, we had a full bar this time. There's no hiding this
one."
    "All right, brother." Rom let his tray drop as he
stared at the Cardassian.
 Quark stared at Rom.
 More specifically, Quark stared at Rom's ear.
    On the lobe was a shiny pimple, with a whitehead
that looked as if it could burst at any moment.
    "Tell me, Rom," Quark said slowly. "A Cardassian
dumped a case of Jibetian beer on your head."
    "No, brother," Rom said, turning to him. "Well,
not since the last time. No one has dumped anything
on me."
    "Then do you want to tell me where that pimple
came from?" Quark asked, pointing.
    Rom clapped a hand over the offending lobe. "I was
trying to tell you."
    "You were trying to tell me in a full bar. Now we
have an empty bar. How did you get that--pustule--
on your ear?"
 Rom shrugged. "It grew there."
 "Like hair."
 "Or skin."
    Quark nodded slowly. "And you're comfortable
with that?"
    "No," Rom said. "It itches. I was going to ask you if
you had any cream left."
 "I have some cream left," Quark said.
 "I would like to borrow it," Rom said formally.
    "And after you've applied it to your ear, you'll
what? Scrape it off so that you can return it to me?"
    "No," Rom said, obviously flustered. "I mean, I
would~"
 "You want me to give it to you," Quark said.
    "Yes," Rom said. "But not all of it. Since you need
it too."
 "I don't need it," Quark said.
 "Yes, you do," Rom said.
    "No, I don't," Quark said. "I healed days ago.
That's why I'm wondering what happened to you."
    "The same thing that happened to you, brother. It
came back."
     Quark reached both hands up slowly and clapped
his ears. Beneath his right hand, he felt a lump.
 A pimple.
 A pustule.
 "What did you do to cause this?" Quark asked.
    "Nothing," Rom said. "Maybe the cream didn't
work."
    "Obviously the cream didn't work," Quark said.
He sank into a chair. "Not that it matters." He stared
at the moaning green Cardassian on his floor. "No
one will ever come here again."
    Rom stared at him for a moment, then sat down
beside him. "Things are bad, aren't they?"
 Quark nodded. "And they're getting worse."

Chapter Twenty-two

PULASKI WAITED UNTIL KELLEC and Narat were seated
in the small medical office's only two chairs. Governo
and Marvig stood against the wall, and Ogawa was
just coming in. The room was hot and stuffy, like
almost everything on Terok Nor. With six of them, it
was going to do nothing but get worse before this
short meeting was over.
  "Leave that door open," she said to Ogawa.
    "Thank you," Governo said. Pulaski could see he
was already sweating.
    She had called this meeting the instant she got back
to the medical area with the information from the
Enterprise. It had taken fifteen minutes for them all to
gather from different parts of the station, enough time
for her to go over the data quickly. She didn't like
what she saw, especially the final conclusion Dr.
Crusher had put in the notes after the crisis was
over.
 "Ready?" She glanced at everyone.
 "Do it, Katherine," Kellec said.
    She nodded to him. In all the years she had known
him, she'd never seen him this worried. Or this tired.
The human faces around her all had deep worry
carved in them, and Narat was now starting to look
more afraid than anything else. But Kellec looked so
strained she would have thought him seriously ill if
she hadn't known what he had been through,,
    "Here's what the Enterprise was dealing with on
Archaria III." She brought up the information sup-
plied by Dr. Crusher on the screen in front of them.
The three-dimensional image of a virus slowly spun,
showing all its sides.
    "That's very different from what we're dealing
with," Kellec said.
     And it was. Its shape bore no resemblance at all to
the viruses she had spent the last week studying.
  "Completely," Narat said.
    "At a glance, I agree," Pulaski said. "This partic-
ular virus would be harmless to any Cardassian or
Bajoranmor human, for that matter. This one
wasn't designed for Cardassians or Bajorans or hu-
mans. It was designed to strike at cross-species
breeds."
 "Designed?" Narat asked.
    "Designed," Pulaski said, "just as the virus we're
dealing with was designed."
    "Did they ever discover who created that one?"
Governo asked.
 "No," she said. "They didn't."
  "Too bad," Marvig said.
    "So why is this important?" Kellec said. "I see no
possible connection."
    Pulaski knew when her ex-husband was getting
impatient and might just rudely leave.
    "I'll get to that in a moment, Kellec," she said.
"There is a tie, believe me."
  He made a face, but remained in his chair.
    She took a deep breath and then touched the
console. "This is how the Archaria virus was
formed." She set the screen in reverse motion.
    The screen showed a computer image of the DNA
of the virus shifting, breaking apart, until finally all
that was left was three prions, the smallest life-form
known to science. Prions were so tiny that not even
transporter biofilters could remove them, so light they
could blow on a slight breeze, and strong enough to
live through freezing cold.
    "The three prions are harmless separately," Pulaski
said, "but when all three were present in the body of a
cross-species humanoid, they merged and somehow
rewrote their own DNA to form a deadly virus. Watch
again."
    She set the screen in forward motion and the three
prions joined, changed, and formed the deadly Ar-
charia virus.
 "Amazing," Kellec said.
    "So if the virus was killed," Narat said, "but the
three prions remained in the body, the patient was
reinfected."
 "Almost at once," Pulaski said.
    "Which is what we're dealing with here," Kellec
said.
 "This is pure evil," Marvig said.
    "Again," Pulaski said, "I need to caution you all
that our patients getting reinfected is just a similar
symptom. There might be a completely different
cause, we don't know yet. But at least this gives us a
starting place we didn't have before."
"So our next step is what?" Governo asked.
Pulaski pointed at the tables where the sick were.
"We take a few patients, both Cardassian and Ba-
joran, and cure them of the virus. Then we watch the
prions in their blood to see if this pattern, or some-
thing similar, occurs. Once we know that, we might be
on the track to a permanent cure." "We can hope," Kellec said.
"You'd better do more than hope, Doctor."
The voice spun Kellec and Narat around.
Marvig stepped further away from the door.
Pulaski had seen Dukat come in just a second
before Kellec spoke. The Gul now stood in the
doorway of the medical office. He nodded to her.
    "Fighting has broken out in a dozen places on
Bajor," Dukat said, not waiting for a response from
Kellec. "If it spreads here I don't have enough healthy
guards to contain it. And if I can't contain it, the
Cardassian fleet will."
    "They're getting afraid back on Cardassia Prime,"
Kellec said. "I thought the mighty Cardassian warrior
never showed fear."
    "Kellec!" Pulaski said, making her voice take on
the command authority she'd learned over the years.
"Now is not the time."
    Dukat nodded to her. He didn't even bother to
smile. He was worried now, and not at all interested
in baiting Kellec.
 "You'd better listen to her, Bajoran," Dukat said.
"At the moment I am the best friend you have. Find
the final cure and find it fast. The Cardassian govern-
ment will not allow this to reach Cardassia Prime."
  Dukat turned and strode from the room.
    Pulaski turned to say something to her ex-husband,
but then stopped. His face was as white as she'd ever
seen it. Narat was hunched so far over that he looked
as if he were going to be sick.
    Kellec glanced at Narat. "He means it, doesn't he?"
Kellec asked.
 Narat nodded.
  "Means what?" Governo asked.
"Yeah," Marvig said, "what was that all about?"
"The Cardassian fleet will destroy this station and
everyone on itwand all of Bajor--to stop this,"
Kellec said.
    Again the Cardassian doctor nodded, as if destroy-
ing an entire planet's population was something they
talked about every day.
 For all Pulaski knew, maybe around here they did.



Chapter Twenty-three

KIRA SLIPPED INTO THE SECURITY OFFICE, looking both
ways before dosing the door. No one saw her go in,
which was good. Very good.
    The office was empty, of course. The constable was
everywhere except where he was supposed to be. She
didn't know how to summon him. Create a ruckus on
the Promenade? Who would notice now that the
disease was back? Only it wasn't really back--at least
that's what one of the human medical assistants had
told her.
 It had never really left.
    At least they had found a way to keep everyone
from dying. That was a step in the right direction.
    She made her way behind the desk and stared at the
security console. Cardassian design, of course; but
there had been modifications, modifications she
didn't entirely understand. She threaded her fingers
together, then eased them forward, cracking the
knuckles. Since Odo wasn't here, she would just play
with the console until he arrived. That would get his
attention, and she might learn a few things in the
process.
    She placed a hand over the screen, wondering
where to start.
    "Touch that," Odo's gravelly voice said, "and you
will spend the rest of your life in the brig."
    "Oh, you frightened me," she said, but she moved
her hand. Then she looked up. He was standing before
her, his brown uniform trim as always. The door was
closed, just as she had left it. Had he slid in under it?
Or hadn't she heard him enter?
  "You like to take chances, don't you?" he asked.
    She gave him a half smile and shrugged. "One gets
used to a certain level of danger."
    "Maybe you do," he said. "But people who play
dangerously around here more often than not get
killed."
  "Is that a threat?"
    "From me, no," Odo said. "But if Dukat were to
know you were here, then it would be. You need to be
more cautious."
"Actually," she said. "That's why I'm here."
"You want me to teach you to be more cautious?"
He actually sounded surprised. And then she realized
he was making a joke. Not a very funny one, but it
was at least an attempt.
 "No," she said. "I need your help."
    "Well," he said. "Isn't that an interesting turn of
events."
 She wasn't used to being a supplicant, especially
with someone in a position of authority in a Cardas-
sian government. "I need to get off the station."
 "I thought we discussed that," he said.
    "We did," she said. "That's why I'm here. I need
your help to leave."
 "Why should I do that?"
     "Because," she said. "Kellec Ton has asked me to
go to the surface to help him with the research."
  "Kellec Ton?"
 "And his ex-wife Pulaski."
    "Why would they want you to go, when Dukat has
already sent a team below?"
    She stared at him for a moment. He worked for the
Cardassians but he had always struck her as different.
How different, she didn't know. And she couldn't rely
on a guess.
    "They need independent confirmation of the Car-
dassian findings."
    "They don't trust the Cardassian findings, you
mean," Odo said.
    "And with cause," Kira said. "The Cardassians
started this thing."
     "It seems to me," Odo said, "they shouldn't trust
the Bajoran findings either." She stared at him.
    "But then, it would be the prudent course to get
information from both sides and compare. Some-
where in the middle they would find the truth." He
tilted his strange head at her. "Do you have written
permission from Kellec Ton to leave the station?"
    He was playing with her again. Why did this shape,
shifter always make her feel off-balance? Because she
had never encountered anyone like him before? Or
because he knew how to get to her when no one else
did?
    "Of course I don't have written permission," she
said.
    "Then how do I know you're not making this up?"
Odo asked.
  "Why would I make it up?"
    "Why indeed." He frowned, musing. "I suppose I'll
just have to check with Kellec."
  "Okay," she said. "And Dr. Pulaski."
  "And Dr. Pulaski," he said.
    He didn't move, though; he didn't try to use his
console or leave the room, either. He just watched her
for a moment and then, to her surprise, he attempted
a smile. It looked as if he didn't make that expression
very often. It came out as half a grimace.
  "All right," he said. "You may go."
  "As easy as that?" she asked.
  "As easy as that," he said.
  "It's too easy."
  "It's what you wanted."
  "Yes, but you didn't check."
    "You weren't worried about it. That's confirmation
enough for me."
    "What about the quarantine?" Kira asked. '%ren't
you worried I'll fly off somewhere else?"
    "Why should I worry about that?" he asked. "Even
if Cardassian space weren't so heavily patrolled, you
would never try anything like that."
    "Just two days ago, you were worried that I might
leave here and infect someone else."
    "Two days ago, there wasn't a Cardassian fleet
surrounding Terok Nor and Bajor. You couldn't go
anywhere besides Bajor if you were the most cunning
pilot in the quadrant."
    Kira sank into the constable's chair. "The Cardas-
sian fleet? What are they doing?"
"Think about it," Odo said. "The plague is back."
"And they don't want it to spread to Cardassia
Prime." Kira pounded a fist on the console. "Those
bastards?'
 Something beeped beneath her hand.
    "I would prefer it if you take your anger out on
something a little less sensitive," Odo said.
    "Well, then, I guess my mission becomes even more
urgent," Kira said.
    "It would seem so." Odo rounded the desk. 'TI1
give you clearance. Then the fleet won't give you any
trouble."
    She looked at him. Those eyes. So sad. She won-
dered why she always thought of him as sad.
    "That's the second time you've done me a favor.
Why?"
    He shrugged. "Maybe I'll ask for repayment one
day."
    "Maybe." She slipped from behind the desk. "Any-
way, thanks."
    "You're welcome," he said. "But be careful. If this
disease is a designer virus, like they're saying, finding
information about it won't be easy."
 She nodded. "Thanks for the warning."
 "And it might also be dangerous."
    "That one I figured out on my own." She glanced at
the door. Two Cardassian guards walked through the
Promenade. "I hate to impose on you one more
time," she said, "but do you think you could beam me
to my ship from here?"
    He sighed. "What's one more violation among
friends?" he asked, and pressed the console a few
times.
    As the transporter beam caught her, she saw him
look up. His expression was unguarded--and wor-
ried? No. That had to be her imagination. She vowed
to shut that imagination off while she conducted her
investigation on Bajor. She couldn't afford to indulge
in speculation.
    Especially since that's all her Cardassian counter-
parts would be doing.

Chapter Twenty-four

DISTANT PHASER FIRE ECHOED throughout the station.
Quark had the doors to the business shut and bolted
and was still hiding behind the bar. His ear was
swollen and covered with blisters. It itched so bad he
couldn't think, and he was doing everything he could
with his hands to keep them from scratching.
    "That's the last of it, brother," Rom said as he
came out of their quarters. His right ear was bleeding
again. Quark shook his head. If the bar had been
open, if he had had any customers, if he had still been
serving drinks, he would have forbidden Rom to
come out in public. But none of that mattered any-
more.
    The Bajorans had started rebelling in the Bajoran
section, shooting the remaining Cardassian guards.
Gul Dukat didn't have the forces to keep the Bajorans
in check. It would only be a matter of time before they
overran the station--and then Quark really didn't
know what he'd do. The Bajorans weren't well known
for having a lot of latinum.
    Nog entered the bar behind his father. He was
wearing the cap the Volian had made for Rom,
attempting to follow Quark's edict not to scratch.
    Quark sighed. He had hidden away all of the
latinum, and had made Rom and Nog hide the
expensive liquor. Now there was nothing he could do
except m
    "Aeeiieee!" He clapped a hand over his left ear and
fell backwards. The itching suddenly got so intense
that it was painful. Rom hurried to his side.  
"Let me see, brother."
    "You're not touching me with those infected
hands," Quark said and rolled over, pressing his ear
against the floor.
 "I'11 wash them first," Rom said.
    "Just let us see, uncle," Nog said, crouching beside
him.     Slowly Quark rolled the opposite direction so that
they could see his left ear.
  "Oh, my," Rom said.
  "Oh, my?" Quark asked.
  "Oh, my, my, my," Rom said.
  "Oh, my, my, my, what?"
  "Oh, my, my, my, my, my."
    With his free hand, Quark shoved his brother.
"Stop it! What do you see?"
 "They're too big to be blisters," Nog said.
 "What are?"
    "The lumps, with pus, traveling toward your ear
canal."
    "Brother, you know how sensitive ear canals can
be. If one of those gets down there and bursts..."
    They all stared at each other. Then Quark got to his
feet.
    "I don't care who is shooting at whom, we have to
get to the infirmary."
 "People are dying, brother," Rom said.
    "They're not dying anymore, stupid," Quark said.
"They're just sick. And they aren't threatened
with--" he couldn't suppress the shudder "--loss of
ear function."
    Rom's eyes got bigger. Nog put a hand on his hat.
"That won't happen, will it, uncle?"
    "Yes, it will," Quark said, "and it'll happen to me
first. Let's go."
     They walked to the door of the bar and peered
through the glass design. The Promenade was empty.
  "I think you should stay here, Nog," Rom said.
  "Why?"
 "It might be dangerous out there."
    "No more dangerous than in here," Nog said,
tugging on the hat.
    "I want him treated too," Quark said. "I don't want
to be reinfected."
    He hit the door release and the glass doors opened.
The silence was short-lived. He heard more shots and
a few screams coming from far away.
    "Follow me," he whispered. He motioned them out
and let the doors close and lock behind them. He kept
to the wall and crouched; at this level, no one would
mistake them for Cardassians. Or Bajorans for that
matter.
 It took only a few moments to reach the infirmary.
 The stench was as bad as it had been before. Maybe
worse. Quark let himself inside, and saw patients
everywhere, mostly Cardassians, leaning against the
wall in a semblance of a line. At the end of it, the male
hu-man assistant was attacking them all with a hypo-
spray.
    A few Cardassians sat on beds, clutching limbs with
phaser bums. Dr. Narat came out of the office and his
gaze met Quark's.
"I don't have time for Ferengi nonsense," he said.
"Look," Quark said, shoving his ear in Narat's
direction. "The infection has gotten worse. It's head-
ing for the ear canal and when it gets there--"
    "I don't care," Narat said. "You can wait. It's not
life-threatening."
    "Well, that depends," Quark said. "If this contin-
ues, my quality of life will be dramatically lowered."
    "It's a minor problem," Narat said. "Go back to
your bar. When things settle down, we'll worry about
your ear infection."
    "Ear infection?" The hu-man female stood in the
office door. She wore clothes and looked much too
efficient for a female.
"Yes," Narat said. "I'm trying to get rid of them."
"Let me see," she said. She walked over to Quark,
who tilted his head up so that she could examine his
ear.
    Her fingers were gentle on his 1obes~ If he weren't in
so much pain--
 "Kellec," she said. "Come see this."
    Kellec Ton came out of the office and frowned at
her. "What?" he said. "It's just an ear infection. I
treated it before."
 "You did?" she asked.
 "Yes, with some antibacterial cream."
 "How long ago was that?"
 "A few days."
 "And it's come back, worse," Quark said.
 "When did this start?" the female asked.
    "When the Cardassians poured drinks all over me,"
Rom said, a bit too eagerly.
 "When was that?" the female asked.
    Rom frowned. "About the time that Cardassian
turned green and--"
    "About the time the plague started," Quark said.
He didn't want Rom to admit they had carried a sick
Cardassian out of the bar. Hu-mans, Bajorans, and
particularly Cardassians wouldn't take well to that.
     "Really'?" the female said. She bent over his ear
again. "Was it this bad when you saw it, Kellec?"
 "No," he said.
    Narat joined them. "What you're thinking is not
possible," he said.
 "What are you thinking?" Quark asked.
    "A third species," the female said, not to him, but
to the other doctors. "And of course it manifests
differently. And not as seriously."
    "That we know of," Kellec said. "This could just be
the early stages."
"Are you saying we have the plague?" Quark asked.
"Come into the office and let's find out," the female
said. She sounded remarkably cheery about the whole
thing.
    Rom grabbed Quark's arm. "Brother, I don't want
to die."
 "It's not high on my list either," Quark said.
    "It's better than being green for the rest of your
life," Nog said, looking around. Rom shushed him,
and shoved him forward.
    "We won't die, will we?" Quark asked Narat as he
followed him into the crammed office.
    "Oh, you'll die," Narat said. Then he smiled.
"Someday, anyway. You just probably won't die of
this."
    "Some bedside manner," Quark mumbled, and
clenched his fists so that he wouldn't scratch his
extremely itchy ears.

Chapter Twenty-five

Tm~ SOUNDS OF PHASER FIRE Off in the distance echoed
through the heat and choking stench of the Bajoran
section. Kellec Ton had never thought he would ever
hear the sounds of battle here. Clearly a few Bajorans
had managed to get Cardassian guns and were holding
off the Cardassian guards. All the Cardassian guards
had been driven from the Bajoran section of the
station. For all he knew, the fighters might even be
making headway into the Cardassian section. But it
wasn't a headway that was taking them anywhere
except closer to their own deaths. And his too.
    He had no doubt that if the final cure wasn't found
quickly, the Cardassians would destroy the station.
And possibly even Bajor.
    Yet he wasn't going to tell the fighters that. They
were Bajorans, fighters against Cardassian rule. As
 long as there was one of them left to fight, there was
 still hope.
     Kellec moved quickly from one sick Bajoran to
 another, inoculating them with the temporary cure.
 It would get them back on their feet for at least ten
 hours. Then they'd be back sick again as the virus
 reformed and tore them apart. But at this point, ten
 hours was a very long time.
     With luck Katherine and her people would find a
 final cure by then.
    He checked his hypospray as he leaned over a young
boy whose mother held him in her lap. She looked as
flushed and sick as her son. He injected her first, then
the boy. He had enough injections for a few more
hours at this pace. He had brought supplies from the
Cardassian medical lab, and his Bajoran assistants
were helping him make more serum in the Bajoran
medical area. But down here the process was much
slower, the equipment nowhere near as good. There
was no way they could keep making enough to main-
tain all the Bajorans alive until a final cure was found.
    Since he'd come into the Bajoran section, the
fighting had expanded from isolated sections and now
covered the entire area. Most of it was between his
position and the Cardassian medical lab. He doubted
he could get through at this point; he'd face that
problem when he completely ran out of serum.
    Again, phaser fire echoed through the wide corridor
as two Bajorans carrying another headed toward him.
"Doctor," one of them said, "can you help him?"
For an instant Kellec didn't realize the man they
were carrying wasn't sick. He was wounded. A phaser
had caught him in the left shoulder.

    "Stretch him out here," Kellec said, motioning to
an open place in the hallway beside the woman and
her son.
    They did as they were told, and quickly he in-
spected the wounded soldier. Phaser burn. Shock. But
he would live, given a little time and care, assuming
the entire station lived through this.
    Kellec quickly gave the wounded soldier a shot
against the virus just to be sure, then glanced up at the
other soldiers. "Get him to the medical area. He's
going to be fine. I'll check in on him in an hour or so."
"Thanks," the soldier said.
    Kellec watched them carry him off. How crazy was
this? He was temporarly curing his people of a deadly
desease so they could keep fighting and dying. Some-
times it was hard to keep straight just why he was
doing this.
    The young boy took a deep shuddering breath, and
then started to cry softly.
    Kellec glanced at him. Both he and his mother were
clearly recovering quickly, regaining the pale, hungry
look of a normal Bajoran worker here on Terok Nor.
More than likely, they were recovering for the second
time.
    He watched the mother comfort the child, then
nodded. There was one of his reasons. The child.
Kellec was fighting for a future for that child beyond
working in an uridium-processing plant for a Cardas-
sian dog. He'd keep his people alive long enough to
see the Cardassians beaten, even if he had to die along
with many others trying.
    He moved on, injecting the temporary cure into
Bajoran after Bajoran scattered along the wide hall-
way. And with each patient, he tried not to think
about the fact that their only real hope for survival
and winning this battle was Katherine and her crew.
    They had to find the final cure and find it fast. But
if there was anyone he trusted to do it, it was
Katherine.

Chapter Twenty-six

IT HAD TAKEN KIRA LONGER than she expected to set up
this meeting. She had been back on Bajor for more
than a day, and three times she'd had to scramble for
her life. The fighting here was intense and getting
worse by the hour. The Bajorans saw weakness in the
Cardassians and were fighting more and more di-
rectly, facing Cardassian guards head-on. She had
never seen such ferocity in her own people--and she
had always thought of them as extremely fierce--nor
had she seen such desperation.
    She had been feeling a bit desperate herself. Every
time she stumbled, every time she felt even the
slightest bit light-headed, she worried that she was
getting sick. But so far, the disease had eluded her.
She hoped it would continue to do so. There was no
guarantee she would survive it if she caught it.
 The plague was moving too swiftly. Too many
people were dying. They either didn't have access to
the temporary cure, or they hadn't initally believed
the cure was temporary and had disappeared back
into the hills. Cardassian guards had taken to haunt-
ing medical areas, looking for resistance leaders,
hoping to arrest them when they came in for the cure,
and that was stopping people from seeking help as
well.
    The farther away from a city center she got, the less
frequently she encountered anyone with a cure at all.
    So many Bajorans believed their faith would pro-
tect them. So many thought this plague was a lie
invented by the Cardassians. And so many more
believed that if they just stayed away from other
Bajorans while the contagion was on the planet they
would be all right. All of that served only to increase
the death rate.
    And now Kira was a little too far away from the
medical facilities for her own comfort. But she had
been tracking information on the origin of this dis-
ease, and she had come here.
    She loathed this part of Bajor. It was barren scrub
land, so unlike most of the planet that sometimes she
felt as if she weren't on Bajor at all. If she squinted
she could see mountains in the distance--or perhaps
she just imagined them and their comfort.
    The resistance cell that operated out of this area
was known for attempting to organize the other cells.
It didn't work, but it did mean that the information
that flowed here was usually reliable. "Nerys?"
    She turned. An old man stood behind her, his arms
open. She slipped into them and hugged him hard.
"Chamar," she said. "It's been a long time."
    "Too long." He backed out of the hug. "You're
looking well."
    "For now," she said. "But I don't like what I'm
hearing."
    He nodded. "The plague. It is the final sin the
Cardassians will commit against us."
She took his hands in hers. "Where are the others?"
His eyes were sad. "They have scattered. Some to
their families in this time of need, and others to fight a
more direct war against the Cardassians. There are
only a few of us left here, and I am the one who
offered to come meet you."
 "You're well?" she asked.
    "For now," he said, echoing her words. He took her
arm and led her down a thin path into a copse of
dying trees. Behind them was a sturdy hut that had
been there as long as she remembered. And the nice
thing about it was that unless you knew it was there,
you couldn't see it.
    He pushed open the door. The interior was neat. A
single room with a table and some comfortable chairs,
and a small area set aside for sleeping.
 "Would you like something?" he asked.
     "Whatever you have," she said, knowing she didn't
dare push him. Chamar did things in his own time.
 "You have been traveling."
    "All over Bajor," she said, deciding not to mention
Terok Nor. "I'm helping in the medical effort."
    "You have become a doctor since I saw you last,
Nerys?"
    She laughed. "No," she said. "I'm doing research
for them, which is why I'm here."
 "To the point so quickly," he said, setting a mug of
juice in front of her. "You young people can wait for
nothing."
    So even in attempting to wait, she hadn't taken long
enough. "I'm sorry, Chamar. It's just that every
moment this disease lingers, we lose more Bajorans."
    He nodded, looking tired. Then he closed his eyes.
There was something he knew, something he didn't
want to say. "What have you learned, Nerys?"
    "That the first outbreaks happened at three differ-
ent places on Bajor. The only things those places had
in common were their space ports, the fact that they
routinely sent ships to Terok Nor, and their high
concentrations of Cardassians."
  Chamar opened his eyes. "What else?"
    "I heard rumors that Gel Kynled was behind this,"
she said. "I can't believe it. A Bajoran wouldn't do
this."
  He stared at her for a long time.
  "I've met Gel," she said, "have you?"
      "Once," Chamar said. "He wanted to serve in our
cell. We threw him out."  "Why?"
    "Because he walked up to a Cardassian guard and
shot him at point-blank rangerain front of witnesses.
We had to risk good people to get him out of here. He
was reckless."
    "Yes," Kira said. "He was reckless. And he was
dumb--he didn't have the ability to start anything of
this magnitude."
    "That's right," Chamar said. "If he were to spread a
disease, he couldn't have created it. He would have
had to buy it."
 Kira felt as if someone slapped her. "You mean the
Cardassians sold him the virus and he released it? Not
even Gel is that dumb."
     "Was that dumb," Chamar said. "Some of the
earliest reported deaths were in his cell." 
"So he died of this thing?"
    "No," Chamar said. "He was shot at curfew by a
Jibetian trader about two weeks ago."
    "A Jibetian?" Kira said. "I didn't know the Carrus-
sians worked with the Jibetians."
     "Some Jibetian traders are little better than merce-
naries, Nerys. They sell both sides against the other."
  "Do we know who this trader is?"
    "No," Chamar said. "And we've tried to find out. I
don't think we're going to be able to find the creator of
the disease, at least not this way."
 "And the Cardassians won't give him up."
 "If he is, indeed, a Carrussian," Chamar said.
 "Why do you doubt it?" Kira asked.
    Chamar shrugged. "I believe the Cardassians are
evil, and a threat to our people. But I also believe they
are the most self-centered people in the quadrant.
They would never sacrifice themselves to a greater
cause."
    "But what if it was an accident? What if they didn't
know it would affect them?"
    "Nerys, from what I've heard, this virus is insidi-
ous. Would someone who devised a killing machine
like that not first make sure it wouldn't kill him?"
    She leaned back in her chair. "I don't like what
you're saying."
    "I don't either," he said. "It's easier to believe the
Cardassians would do this. And that is what we will
tell our people, once this is solved."
    "I had hoped I would be able to give the doctors
more information than this," Kira said.
    "If they are true researchers, each piece of informa-
tion helps," Chamar said.
    Kira shook her head. "You think someone sold Gel
a biological weapon against the Cardassians and he
actually chose to use it?"
    Chamar stared at her for a long time. "Nerys, if I
gave you a weapon, and told you that with only one
use you could destroy the Cardassians forever, that
Bajor would be at peace forever, would you use it?"
"I'd like to think not," she said. "That's genocide."
"Is it?" Chamar asked. "What lengths would we go
to in order to get rid of the Cardassian menace? How
many Cardassians have you killed for the cause?"
  Kira flinched.
  "What's a few more?"
    She hadn't touched her juice. Now she pushed the
glass away. "Are you saying Gel was right in what he
did?"
    "Gel wasn't a man who understood subtlety, Nerys.
And he was given an opportunity. I don't know how
many of us, having seen our loved ones die horribly
and knowing that everyone we love might suffer the
same fate, would let such an opportunity pass us by."
  Kira stood slowly. "You're scaring me, Chamar."
  "I scare myself sometimes, Nerys. But I have had
  years to think on this, and every time I do, I realize
  that we are not as noble as we believe."
    "I would never kill my own people to get rid of the
Cardassians," Kira said.
    "I don't think Gel would have either," Chamar
said. "Which is why I believe there was an outside
agent. Think on it, Nerys. The promise of no Cardas-
sians, a fanatic like Gel, and a weapon. Only what the
creator of that weapon doesn't say is that it is a two-
pronged weapon, which kills both sides."
 "That's too hideous to contemplate," Kira said.
    "Yes, it is," Chamar said. "Which is why I hope
you--or someone--finds the creator of this disease."
    She nodded. "First we have to stop it. I need to get a
message to Kellec ~lbn on Terok Nor. Do you still
have communication equipment?"
"In a safe place," he said. "Let me take you there."
He got up slowly. Kira watched him. The informa-
tion she got wasn't much, and yet it felt like a lot.
Almost too much. She thought she was used to the
lengths people went to, used to the cruelty in the
world. And then she was surprised, like this after-
noon, when she discovered that someone could go a
step further.
    Chamar made his way to the door. Kira followed
him. She would send the message to Terok Nor, and
then she would go back to her own work. Before she
joined the fighting, though, she had one more task.
She needed to round up the sick and get them closer
to the medical areas, to make sure they got treatment
when treatment was available. And she knew the
treatment would become available. She had to believe
Pulaski and Kellec Ton would find a solution. They
had to.
    She sighed. Why was it so easy to destroy? And so
very hard to rebuild?
 She didn't know, and she doubted she ever would.





Chapter Twenty-seven

PULASKI STOOD AND FORCED HERSELF to move a little,
loosening tight and tired muscles. She was sweating
slighty in the heat of the contained room, and her eyes
felt strained from far too many hours staring at data.
"Got to pace yourself," she said to herself.
    She did a few slow stretches, then moved over
toward the door. Through the window of the office she
could see most of the medical section. Her team had
been the only ones still working in the area since
Kellec and Narat had left, a few hours before. Pulaski
hadn't wanted them to, but they'd both felt it was
important to distribute the temporary cure to their
people, keeping each side at least going for the short
term.
    But that left all the research on her. And she had
felt the weight of it the moment Kellec left.
Ensign Marvig bent over a Bajoran, carefully moni-
toring the progress of the three prions with a medical
tricorder. Her hair was pulled back and Pulaski could
see a rip in one leg of her uniform. Marrig hadn't had
time to go back to her quarters in the last thirty-six
hours. None of them had. And with the fighting going
on around the station, Pulaski doubted they could
even make it now.
    After getting the information from the Enterprise, it
had taken them only a few hours to discover that it
was three prions forming the virus that had cause this
epidemic, too. Pulaski knew that was too much of a
coincidence. More than likely, the same virus design-
er who had created the Archaria III plague had
created this one. Who this designer was had to be
solved later, although she wished it could happen
now.
 Who would do such a thing?
 And why?
    But she couldn't focus on that. Right now the focus
had to be on stopping the virus's formation here and
now.
    Nurse Ogawa moved from Cardassian patient to
Cardasian patient, doing basically what Ensign Mar-
rig was doing--monitoring the progress of the three
prions to see if they formed the virus again. Just
twenty minutes ago they had decided to try the same
idea Dr. Crusher and the Enterprise crew had come
up with at Archaria III. They would know shortly if
the Enterprise cure, as they were calling it, was going
to work or not. For some reason she didn't think it
would this time, since this was the work of the same
designer. If she were designing a virus, and she hoped
she would never go that crazy, she would make
certain it didn't fall prey to the same cure a second
time.
    Still, she had to try. Maybe this one had been
unleashed at the same time, but took longer to incu-
bate.
  Or longer to reach Bajor.
  Although she doubted it.
    Two of the Ferengi were still in the medical area,
sitting on a lab table. The older one, named Rom,
looked nervous while his young son seemed both
defiant and very interested in everything around him.
Ensign Governo was monitoring them for the same
prion reformation. Somehow, Pulaski knew the an-
swer was with the Ferengi. She just didn't know how
they were involved. She knew the Bajorans infected
the Cardassians with the prions that caused the virus.
But who had infected the Ferengi? And why did it
only give them blisters instead of killing them?
    She shook her head and then stretched again. Too
many unaswered questions.
    A faint explosion lightly shook the floor, and Mar-
vig glanced up, a look of fear in her eyes. Pulaski
nodded at her in a reassuring way and Marvig half
smiled and went back to work. Too bad it wasn't that
easy with all these patients.
    She just hoped Kcllec was all right. She had no idea
how bad it was out there, but at the moment, as long
as the fighting didn't come in here, she didn't care.
None of it was going to matter unless she found the
cure for this virus.
    Nurse Ogawa glanced over at her and shook her
head no.
    Pulaski moved out into the patient area. "Not
working?"
    "Virus is forming. The Enterprise cure isn't stop-
ping it or even slowing it down."
    "I'm afraid it's the same with the Bajorans," Mar-
rig said.
    "And the Ferengi," Governo said. But he didn't
take his eyes off his medical tricorder.
    "You mean we're still sick?" the older Ferengi
asked, clearly panicked. He put his hand to his ears, as
if he could protect them from the infection. The
younger Ferengi put a hand on his father's leg to calm
him down.
    "I'm afraid so," Governo said, still studying the
tricorder intently. "But just stay put and don't worry.
We'll find the cure."
    Pulaski wished she could be as sure as Governo
sounded.
     "Dr. Pulaski," Governo said, his voice sounding
unsure, "this is really odd." "What is?"
    She was about to step toward Governo and the
Ferengi when Narat stumbled through the door of the
medical area, another Cardassian slumped over his
shoulder.
    Narat looked faintly green and very weak. And it
took her a moment to understand who the other
greenish-tinted Cardassian was. Gul Dukat.
    Acting like a well-trained trauma unit, her crew
sprang into motion. She and Governo went to help
Narat and Dukat while Marrig and Ogawa helped two
Cardassians who were not as sick off the biobeds.
    She took Dukat and levered him over and onto his
back on the bed. He tried to help, but was clearly so
weak his effort almost made it more difficult. Cardas-
sians were heavy enough.
    Governo grabbed Dukat's legs and lifted them onto
the bed as Pulaski started the scan. The virus was
throughout his system, extrememly far advanced.
  "Why didn't you come in here earlier?" she asked.
    The look of terror in Dukat's eyes surprised her, but
he said nothing.
    "Have you been injected with any of this cure
before?"
    He shook his head no, then closed his eyes for a
moment at the effort.
    She upped the dosage slightly and injected him.
"Now stay still and try to rest."
    His hand came up and grabbed her sleeve. "The
permanent cure?"
    "I'11 find it if you let go of my sleeve," she said.
"Now rest. And that's an order."
    For a moment she thought he was going to get
angry, then he nodded, let go of her, and closed his
eyes.
    On the bed beside Dukat, Narat had just gotten his
injection of the temporary cure from Nurse Ogawa.
He looked up at Pulaski. "Anything?" She shook her head.
He sighed. "I was hoping." Then he closed his eyes.
She stared at the two Cardassians for a moment,
then turned to Ogawa. "Monitor them closely. I want
to know the moment the virus is clear from their
systems."
 "Understood," Ogawa said.
 "Crystal, you continue monitoring the Bajorans."
 "Yes, Doctor," Marvig said.
 Pulaksi did a quick medical scan of Dukat. The
temporary cure was already attacking the virus. Irt
fifteen minutes he'd be back to his normal, overbear-
ing self. But that gave her fifteen minutes of time in
which to work.
    She turned to Governo. "Okay, what were you
going to show me with the Ferengi?"
 On the lab table, the older Ferengi actually flinched,





Chapter Twenty-eight

PULASKI WATCHED THE MEDICAL MONITOR as if it might
blow up at any moment. The Ferengi named Rom
squirmed on the biobed, even though no one was
actually touching him. She was instead looking at
what was happening in his body. Governo had no-
ticed an odd reaction just before Dukat had come in.
But with the disruption of the now sleeping Dukat,
they had missed the timing on whatever Governo had
seen.
    So they got the quivering Ferengi's permission to
reinfect him and then heal him again. It had taken
both the younger Ferengi and Governo a good twenty
minutes to convince him it would be safe. It wasn't
until the boy Ferengi offered to do it that the older one
caved in.
 "Dukat's starting to come around," Ogawa said.
 "Give him a light sedative," Pulaski said. "I want
him resting for at least another thirty minutes." Plus
she wanted that long until she had to deal with him
again.
    "See it?" Governo said, his voice excited. He too
was monitoring the ongoing prion activity in the
Ferengi body.
    "I did," Pulaski said. But she wasn't sure exactly
what she had seen. It had happened so fast. But this
time it was recorded, visual and all other data.
    They both continued to monitor the forming of the
virus until it was at its full stage, then she said, "Let's
watch this on the screen in the office." "Um," the Ferengi said.
    Pulaski turned to him. She had learned in the last
few moments that Rom was not very assertive.
 "Um, would you mind curing me first?" he asked.
 "Of course not," Pulaski said.
    She nodded toward Governo, who hyposprayed the
Ferengi. "There," he said when he was done. "ALL
better."
    The Ferengi's hands immediately went to his ears.
His grin was wide enough to split his face. "Thanks."
    Pulaski glanced at Narat. He was standing beside
Dukat, monitoring his sleeping commander. Narat's
color had returned to its normal healthy gray, just as
Dukat's had. But Narat's stage of the infection had
been nowhere near as advanced as Dukat's. With the
gul, she was going to be safe.
  "Narat, are you up to seeing something?"
  "I think I should remain here," he said.
    "All right." She was a bit relieved that he wasn't
coming. She had kept so much from him in this
research that she didn't want to blurt it out at the last
minute. Still, she had to offer.
    She followed Governo into the office. Right now
Pulaski wished that Kellec were here. This was just
the kind of thing she could use his knowledge on. But
at the moment she was going to have to go it alone.
    She quickly set the screen to start right before the
strange event in the Ferengi virus formation, then
started it slowly forward. Nothing seemed different.
Three different and harmless prions were drawn to-
gether, just as in the other two races.
  "Coming up right about now," Governo said.
    As the prions started to join and alter their DNA,
something different suddenly happened. The virus
was formed, but also a fourth prion was formed and
quickly expelled.
    She froze the image on that prion, quickly isolated
it and ran a computer diagnostic. The moment the
data appeared, she glanced out the office window at
the Cardassian doctor. Thank heavens he hadn't
accepted her invitation.
    "Amazing," Governo said, staring at the data.
"That means what I think it means, doesn't it?"
    She nodded. "That prion is the key prion in the
Bajoran virus, which then mutates into the Cardas-
sian virus."
    "The Ferengi are carrying the catalyst priori that
restores viral functioning even after it's cured." Gov-
erno said.
    "Don't say that too loud," she said, glancing at
where the nervous Ferengi and his calm son sat on the
biobed, then at where Dukat still slept, with Narat
standing beside him.
    "Sorry," Governo said, his face white at what she
was suggesting by the warning.
 She stared at the data again. Her hunch had been
right about the Ferengi being critical elements in this.
But that still didn't answer the question of how to
stop the prions from forming the virus.
    Out of the corner of her eye she could see Dukat
starting to stir.
    "Ensign," she said to Governo, "I want you to
remain in here going over this data again and again.
We need to find a way to stop those prions from
coming together in the first place. No one else is to see
this unless I give permission. Understand?"
  "Yes," he said.
    She headed out toward Dukat, who was now sit-
ting up.
 "Are we going to live or not?" the Ferengi asked.
    "You're going to be fine," she said. "Just stay there
and keep calm."
    Then she turned to Dukat. "And how are you
feeling, Gul?"
    "I've been better," he said. His voice was raspy and
his eyes were bloodshot. Some of his scales were still
flaking, but he didn't seem to notice. "How's the
research going?"
    "We're making progress, but we haven't found a
final cure yet."
    He dropped down off the biobed and stood up
straight, towering over her. For a moment he tested
his own balance, then took a deep breath and nodded.
Finally he looked at her. "Doctor, I need to talk with
you for a moment. Alone."
    She nodded and indicated the door of the medical
area leading out into the wide hallway beyond. Nor-
mally she'd have escorted him into the office, but
Governo was working in there, and she didn't want to
disturb the ensign.
    Dukat glanced at Narat, then turned toward the
main door, leaving the Cardassian doctor looking
puzzled.
    Pulaski followed Dukat, watching his steps gain
confidence with each stride.
    In the corridor he turned to face her. Then with a
quick glance around to make sure no one was close
by, he said, "Doctor, I'm not sure how much longer I
can contain this situation."
  "I'm not sure I follow you," Pulaski said.
    "Before I fell ill I managed to hold off the Cardas-
sian fleet, saying we were on the verge of a final cure.
They are expecting it soon."
    "And if we can't come up with it we die," Pulaski
said.
    "I'm afraid so, Doctor," he said. "All of us. And
more than likely all of Bajor."
    For an instant the corridor seemed to spin. She took
a deep breath and it stopped. "I had better get back to
work and you had better try to buy me a little more
time."
    He nodded and without another word turned and
headed off down the corridor, his stride long and sure.
    She watched him for a moment, doing her best to
keep her entire body from shaking. She had known
coming here titat she and her team might not get back
alive. She had accepted that. But she had never
expected also to have to save an entire planet.
    Finally, she turned and headed back toward the
medical office, ignoring Narat's stares. That extra
prion in the Ferengi held the secret to the cure. And as
Dukat had just made very clear, she didn't have much
time to find it.



Chapter Twenty-nine

BAJOR FILLED THE VIEWPORTS of the docking ring as the
sounds of fighting echoed down the corridor. Kellec
Ton knelt in the hallway and quickly wrapped the
burned arm of a Bajoran fighter, then injected him
with a quick painkiller.
    "You'll be all right," Kellec said, patting the man
on the leg.
    The man nodded weakly, as Kellec moved and
crouched next to the woman leaning against the
bulkhead two steps away. Plague, in its middle stage.
The woman looked to be about Kellec's age and her
skin had the rosy glow of the disease. Her face was
dirty and she was starting to smell of rot. He quickly
injected her with the temporary cure, and then moni-
tored her as the medicine started to work. She was
going to make it, at least for another ten hours or so.
"Rest here as long as you can," he said, and she
nodded.
    He stood and checked the level of his hypospray. He
had enough for another thirty or so, then he'd be
forced to try to make his way through the fighting to
one of the medical labs.
    Down the hall to his right the fighting was raging, as
the Cardassian guards tried to retake this area of the
docking ring. So far his people had held them off, but
it didn't look as if that would last long. He'd been
forced here by following the wounded and sick work-
ers. It was like following a never-ending road of blood
and death.
    With the fighting echoing behind him, he moved
down the large hall. A low moan caught his attention,
coming from an alcove. Three Bajoran workers lay in
the dark, against the wall. The smell in the small area
made it seem as if they'd been dead for a week, but he
could tell that two of them were still breathing.
Barely.
    He scanned them quickly. The two who were still
alive both needed to be in one of the medical areas,
but at the moment that wasn't possible. With all the
fighting there was no one to take them there and no
way to get there.
    He gave both survivors full plague shots, then
quickly checked them again. They might make it. He
didn't have much choice but to leave them and keep
helping others. At this point he'd done everything he
could for them. They were so far gone that if they did
recover they wouldn't even remember him being here.
    He went back out into the main hallway, as a group
of seven Bajoran workers moved past and turned into
one of the docking-bay corridors. Two of them carried
Cardassian weapons, while the others carried iron
bars. Three of them looked as if they were in the early
stages of the plague.
    "Hold on," Kellec shouted. He ran up behind them
and quickly injected one of the men who he could tell
was quickly getting sick.
    "You Kellec Ton?" A man with a bloody rag
wrapped around his arm stepped forward.
    "I am," Kellec said. Kellec pointed at the other one
clearly coming down with the plague. "You need
this." He held up his hypospray.
    The man nodded and moved up to where Kellec
could inject him.
    Then Kellec looked at the rest of them. "Have the
rest of you been given the plague cure in the last four
or five hours?"
 All of them nodded.
    "We're getting out of here," the man with the
bloody arm said. "Heading for Bajor. Help with the
fighting there. You want to come along?"
"You won't make it," Kellec said, shaking his head.
"Sure we will," the man said. "That's a Cardassian
ore freighter right there, and we have two pilots
among us."
    "And there's a very large Cardassian fleet sur-
rounding the station," Kellec said, pointing out the
viewport.
    "That's what the Cardassians want us to think," the
man said, laughing. "We'll just drop right straight
down and be on Bajor before what ships there are out
there even know we've moved."
  Kellec shook his head. "Don't waste all your lives."
    The man with the bandaged ann stepped right up
into Kellec's face. "We're going home and no Cardas-
sian sympathizer is going to stop us."
    The blow caught Kellec squarely in the stomach,
sending him backward onto the deck gasping for
breath. He couldn't believe the man had hit him.
    "See you, Doctor," the man said, motioning for the
men to turn around and head into the freighter.
    Kellec tried to shout no, but there was no breath
left in him. His stomach felt as if it were holding his
lungs in a death grip. No air was going in or out. His
shout came out as more of a choking gag.
    By the time Kellec could even get his lungs to take
in a small amount of air, the men were in the freighter
and the lock had rolled closed.
    Kellec stumbled to his feet and moved over to a
viewport just as the freighter disengaged itself from
the station and turned toward Bajor. The planet
looked so close, so large.
  Maybe they would make it.
  Maybe he had been wrong.
    Three seconds later the ship exploded as two shots
from Cardassian warships blew it apart like a child's
balloon against a pin.
    "No!" Kellec shouted, then dropped down onto the
deck, his head in his hands.
    He sat there for a few moments, until the sounds of
fighting grew in the corridor to his right. He had to
keep going, to keep curing people for as long as he
could.
     He pulled himself back to his feet, facing Bajor and
the expanding cloud of wreckage from the ore ship.
  "Stupid fools," he said.
 Beyond the wreckage, against the blackness of

space, he could see three Cardassian warships. He
knew, without a doubt, there were a lot more than
that surrounding the station at this moment. He
knew, without a doubt, those warships would blast
this entire station if a cure wasn't found soon.
    He picked up his hypospray and checked it to make
sure it was still working, then headed in the direction
away from the sounds of the fighting.
    "Hurry, Katherine," he said to the walls and to the
image of Bajor below him. "Hurry."


Chapter Thirty

PULASKI STARED AT THE IMAGE of the three prions on
the screen. They seemed so harmless. The smallest
living things known. She'd studied them in medical
school. Everyone had. They were mostly of interest
only because they were so small. Yet these three
prions in front of her could mutate into a deadly virus
when joined. They were far from harmless.
    And one of them had been created by a biologically
manufactured mutation in a Ferengi's body. It was no
wonder the incubation period for this plague had
taken so long. That special prion had had to travel
through air or fluids from the Bajorans, then to a
Ferengi, and then to a Cardassian, where it combined
with two other naturally occurring prions to form a
deadly virus.
    Then that virus mutated into a deadly virus for
Cardassians. Amazingly complex.
 Yet it was an elegantly simple way to wipe out two
races.
 And so far impossible to stop.
    Whoever had designed this had thought of almost
everything. Even if the Ferengi were removed from
the station and Bajor, the special prion was already
here and multiplying in Cardassian and Bajoran
bodies. She had no doubt that with the long incuba-
tion period it had already traveled to Cardassia. The
Ferengi had been the start, but they were now no
longer needed in the final deadly result.
She stared at that fourth prion. It revealed nothing.
She shoved her chair back and rubbed her eyes. She
couldn't remember the last time she had slept or even
eaten much more than a handful of nuts and a glass of
water. But from her conversation in the hallway with
Dukat two hours ago, she might not need to eat or
sleep ever again. She didn't know how much time
they had left, but she bet it wasn't much.
    Behind her Governo, at another monitor, let out a
long sigh.
 "Nothing?" she asked.
    "Nothing," he said. "I just don't understand what
draws the three prions together. There has to be some
sort of molecular attraction."
    Pulaski looked at her assistant for a moment,
letting what he had said sink in. He was right. There
had to be something working between the prions that
drew them together. And if she had to wager, she
would bet that attraction was in that special prion
created by the Ferengi mutation.
    She'd been focusing all her energy on trying to find
a way to kill the prions, not on why they went
together. It hadn't even occurred to her to look in that
area. It was lucky Governo had.
    "There's just no way to isolate what that attraction
might be at such a small, microscopic level," Governo
said, "at least not without months of trial and error."
    "We don't have months," she said. She doubted
they even had hours left.
  "I know," Governo said.
    She stared over Governo's shoulder at the image of
the prions on the screen. They were slowly working
their way toward each other in the solution.
    "I think the attraction comes from this one," Gov-
erno said, highlighting the prion with a red glow.
Suddenly, staring at that red glow, Pulaski had the
solution.
  "What happens if we coat it?" she said.
  "What?" Governo said, turning to stare at her.
  "See the red highlight you have on that prion?"
  He glanced around at it. "Yes?"
      "You said you think the special prion is attracting
the others in some unseen way. Right?"  He nodded.
    "So what would happen if we coated all the prions
somehow, and try to block the attraction, whatever it
might be."
    Governo nodded. "It might work. But first we have
to find something that will stick to them."
    Pulaski moved quickly to the door and out into the
lab area. Narat was working over a sick Cardassian.
Ogawa and Marvig huddled over a badly injured
Bajoran.
    "Listen up everyone," Pulaski said to her team. "I
need at least a dozen blood cultures from all three
races, virus-free but full of prions, set up at once. And
then I need another dozen being set up right behind
the first dozen. Make it fast."
 "Did you find a cure?" Narat asked.
    "We don't know yet," she said, heading for the
nearest Cardassian to start drawing samples of blood.
"And until we get these cultures set up, we won't
know. You want to help?"
    Narat had the common sense not to say anything
more. But he instantly went to work beside her.
    It took them thirty minutes to get everything set
and ready to go for the first tests.
    And another twenty minutes and seven failures
before they found a molecular cousin of an iodine
derivative that actually stuck to the prions, turning all
of them the same shade of sickly brown. It was as if
the prions had been dipped in dye.
    "Now," Pulaski said, staring at the monitor in the
office, "we need to find something that will ride on the
iodine carrier, something that will block the attrac-
tion."
    "I don't think we're going to need to," Governo
said, his voice an octave higher than she had ever
heard it. "Look at this!"
    She watched the monitor where he was pointing.
The sickly brown prions in the solution were moving
past each other, not seeming to even notice. The
attraction between them seemed to be gone.
    "Color?" Pulaski said. "Could the attraction have
been something as simple as color?"
    "Or maybe they hate the derivative," Governo said.
"At such a microscopic level, anything is possible."
    They both stared at the prions for a few more long
moments. But unlike what had been happening in
previous tests, these prions were no longer interested
in each other. And without that interest, they
wouldn't form the deadly virus.
    Governo looked up at her, his smile filling his face.
"It's working. It's actually working."
    Pulaski stepped back quickly into the medical lab.
"How many more cultures from all three races are set
up?"
  "Six each," Ogawa said.
    "I want to use all of them to test the iodine
derivative. Quickly. Everyone monitor the cultures
and put the computer on them as well. We don't want
any prions to join."
    Ten minutes later the tests, with the entire team
watching closely, seemed to be conclusive. But she
had to be sure--and at this point all normal medical
procedures were long out the airlock.
  "Now we try it in patients," she said.
    Narat looked at her. That hesitation was built into
both of them. But they had to get past it. They had to
work quickly, or they would lose every chance they
had. If the Cardassians blew up Terok Nor and then
killed everyone on Bajor, they still wouldn't have
stopped the plague. They would have committed
genocide and a few days later gotten sick on Cardassia
Prime.
     And they would have unknowingly killed off their
best chance to a solution. Narat nodded.
    Pulaski quickly mixed the iodine derivative with
the cure and injected it into two Cardassians and two
Bajorans, plus the older Ferengi.
    Eighteen minutes later she had enough faith in their
cure to call Dukat.
 His face appeared on the screen. He wasn't the

strong, confident Cardassian leader he'd been when
she'd arrived. Now he looked more like a tired street
fighter. And when he saw her he didn't even smile.
 "We have it," she said.
 "And you're sure it's permanent this time?"
 "As sure as I can be under these conditions."
    He nodded. "Get some to Narat and start the
distribution. I'll see what I can do to convince the
ships outside."
 "I will," she said.
 He cut the connection.
Behind her Governo said, "Not even a thank-you."
She dropped down into the chair and took a deep
breath. "Not yet," she said, staring at the blank
screen. "If we survive the next few hours, then he
might thank us."
    She glanced at the Cardassians who were getting
this new version of the cure, and the Bajorans, who
were walking around again, and the Ferengi, who was
clapping his ears and jumping up and down, dearly
gleeful that he felt better.
    Governo followed her gaze. She smiled at him
tiredly, and said, "I think we have all the thanks we
need right here."




Epilogue

IT TOOK TWO WEEKS. They were smarter than he
thought. His observers had reported back, saying the
virus had been defeated yet again.
    He was glad he was doing test cases. He had
underestimated the intelligence of his foes. But he
wouldn't do that again. He would be very careful next
time. And, if it took a few more attempts, he would
make them. He wanted to do this right. He would do
this right.
 And one day soon, he would succeed.

    When someone said lack of pain was the best
experience in the world, Quark had never understood
them. But after this week, he did. His ears no longer
itched and, more importantly, the pustules were gone
from his ear canal. The female doctor had pro-
nounced him well before she left--and her casual
fingering of his lobes had proven that he still had ear
function.
    His ears were operating in another capacity now.
They were reveling in the sound of a full bar. The
fighting had stopped, which was too bad for the
Bajorans but did ensure that Quark's black-market
business would kick back up soon. Cardassians
crowded the Dabo table, spending hard-earned
latinurn. They were drinking to wonderful excess, and
a few were so happy to be alive they were splurging on
expensive liquors, many of which Rom did not even
know the names of.
    Rom would come back to the bar, tray in hand, and
mangle an order, often so badly that Quark would
have to go to the table himself to clarify. But he was in
too good a mood to be angry. He'd let Rom get away
with his incompetence today. Tomorrow would be
another story. Tomorrow, Rom and Nog had to start
saving their salaries for another gold-plated ear brush,
one Quark had had his eye on for a long, long time.
    They would give him the funds, of course, or even
better, he would never pay them and use the money
for that brush. Which he would then keep locked
up--and he would wear the key around his neck. He
didn't want to risk cross-contamination again.
    No matter what that female doctor and Kellec Ton
had said. They believed that someone, or something,
had actually brought the virus to the bar. They
believed that the Ferengi had been infected first.
Quark had begged them and even tried to bribe them
to prevent them from sharing that insight with Narat,
and in the end they had agreed. Kellec Ton, to
Quark's surprise, negotiated the bribe: He wanted
Quark to help with the Bajoran resistance on the
station. In small ways. Funneling in messages or
supplies, or helping someone escape Odo's eye. Quark
refused, until Kellec Ton reminded him that they
could easily reinfect the Ferengi--and make certain
the virus didn't spread beyond Quark, Rom, and Nog.
    Quark didn't believe the threat. He didn't think
Kellec Ton was that sort of man (and the hu-man
female's attempt to hide her laughter reinforced that)
but, on the off-chance that the threat was real, Quark
agreed to those terms, for a time of limited duration.
He suggested a week. Kellec suggested a month. They
had compromised on two weeks.
    Which was good enough for Quark. It protected his
bar, his livelihood, and, much as he hated to admit it,
his family. For it looked like Rom and Nog weren't
going anywhere soon. And that meant that Quark had
to teach them to be at least mildly competent.
    "Brother," Rom said. "Gul Dukat would like a
vodtini twisted."
    "A what?" Quark asked, turning toward his
brother.
 "A vodtini twisted."
 "And what is that?" Quark asked.
    "A hu-man drink, suggested by the good doctor.
Apparently she said that generations of hu-mans
drank it after their workday was over to relax."
 "A vodka martini with a twist?" Quark asked.
 "That's it!" Rom said.
    Quark looked over his brothefts head at Gul Dukat.
He was sitting at a center table, looking exhausted,
but he was managing to laugh with a few of the
guards. "Does he know what vodka does to Cardassi-
ans?" Quark asked.
 "How should I know?" Rom asked.
    "Tell him that if he wants to drink it, he has to take
it outside. Tell Zhim that the fumes are too much for
my other patrons." Quark shook his head. "Who'd
have figured the hu-man was a practical jokesten"
  Rom frowned. "Jokes, brother?"
    Quark nodded. "Vodka and Cardassians," he said.
"If they've never had it before, it turns them green."
    "That doesn't seem very funny to me," Rom said,
and went back to Gul Dukat's table.
    Quark watched him. What he didn't want to ex-
plain to his idiot brother was that sometimes the
point of practical jokes wasn't humor. Sometimes the
point was to teach someone a lesson.
    Apparently the lady doctor believed Gul Dukat had
some lessons to learn.

    How many times would she have to say good-bye to
the Enterprise? Pulaski leaned back in her chair in the
captain's ready room. The fish were swimming in
their aquarium, and Captain Jean-Luc Picard had a
clear glass on his desk filled with perfectly brewed
Earl Grey tea. The faintly flowery smell of the liquid
permeated the room.
    Picard was standing behind his desk, looking out
the portholes to the stars. The ship was heading back
to Deep Space Five at full warp. Apparently someone
there had a new assignment for Pulaski and wanted
her to arrive on the double.
 Just what she needed. More work.
    Beverly Crusher sat beside her, nursing an old-
fashioned cup of coffee. Pulaski was having one as
well. It wasn't Cardassian or Bajoran. It was an Earth
beverage, with a taste of home.
 She couldn't believe she was leaving. Even when
she, Ogawa, Governo, and Marvig had boarded a
Cardassian transport ship she hadn't believed she was
going home. The trip to the Enterprise had been very
different from the trip bringing them to Terok Nor.
They were being treated like royalty, each with large
cabins even though they weren't staying long enough
to sleep in them, and the captain was treating them to
a lengthy meal filled with things Pulaski had never
seen before.
    It all made her feel vaguely guilty about her parting
recommendation to Gul Dukat. Even Kellec had
given her a funny look when she gave it.
    And it all sounded so innocent: a vodka martini
with a twist. But she had done so because Dukat had
annoyed--no, perhaps the correct term was an-
gered--her, with his insistence on quotas and return-
ing the station to normal. She had overheard him
ordering double shifts and punishment for any Ba-
joran who still claimed weakness from the illness. He
had also ordered harsh measures for the prisoners
who had instigated the fighting.
    He was putting Terok Nor back together the old
way, ignoring Kellec's contribution and refusing to
see that Bajorans were people, just like Cardassians.
    It had riled her temper. And so she had sweetly told
Dukat of a way he could rest at the end of his day.
    At least she could be sure he wouldn't get sleep for
one night. Maybe more. And if she ever saw him
again, she could claim ignorance of vodka's effects on
Cardassians.
    "Are you sure you've told us everything?" Crusher
was saying, her tone sympathetic. She had been
through one of these plagues too and she had said,
when Pulaski got off the transporter pad, that she
would be there any time Pulaski needed to talk. "You
have a strange expression on your face."
    Pulaski smiled just a little. She wouldn't admit to
the vodka remark, not in front of Captain Picard, but
she did say, "I guess I am a bit surprised by the level
of hatred between the Cardassians and the Bajorans."
    "I think I can understand the Bajorans' reaction,"
Picard said, returning to his chair. "After all, the
Cardassians have been occupying their planet for
some time now."
    "Yes, but they worked together on Terok Nor for a
brief time, and then even that fell apart." Pulaski
sighed. Not even the coffee was helping her bone-deep
exhaustion. "And now both sides are blaming the
other for the plague. The situation has grown worse
instead of better."
    "I can't help but wonder if that wasn't the design-
er's intent," Crusher said.
  "What do you mean?" Picard asked.
    "Well, we can assume that this plague is related to
the one we dealt with on Archaria III," Crusher said.
"It almost seems like a second trial of an experi-
ment."
    Pulaski looked at her. She had had the same
thoughts.
    "After all, it didn't respond to the same solution,
and the stakes were escalated. There were three spe-
cies involved. There was a new method of delivery.
And--" Crusher paused to look first at Pulaski, then
Picard "--this one had the added benefit of destabi-
lizing a precarious region. So if this second trial
failed, perhaps the designer saw a benefit in worsening
the Cardassian-Bajoran situation."
    Picard picked up his glass cup. "Who would do
such a thing?"
 "A monster," Pulaski said.
 "But why?"
    "I don't know," Crusher said. "And I'm not sure I
want to find out."
    "Surely you want to catch this person or persons,"
Picard said.
 "I do," Crusher said, "but on my terms."
 "Terms?" Picard asked.
    Crusher nodded. But before she could respond,
Pulaski spoke. "I understand what Dr. Crusher is
saying. We weren't able to track the designer from the
scant information we received from our sources on
Bajor, and I take it, you had no more success on
Archaria III."
 "That's right," Picard said.
    "Which means that the only way we'll be able to
track this monster down..." Crusher said.
    "Is if there's another plague," Pulaski said tiredly.
"Let's hope that his experiment is over and he leaves
us in peace."
 "Unpunished?" Picard asked.
    Pulaski nodded. "Unless we can find him before he
causes more deaths." She closed her eyes. "I don't
want to see any more death."
    She felt a hand on her arm. She opened her eyes to
see Crusher looking at her with concern. "You really
should rest before you go to your next assignment. If
you want, I'll contact Starfleet Medical and ask them
for a leave--"
    "No." Pulaski smiled. "Work is always better for
me. But if you both will excuse me, I do think I'll go to
my quarters now. I hope you won't be offended if I
sleep most of the way back to Deep Space Five."
  "Not at all," Picard said.
    "We'll wake you so that you'll have enough time to
get your notes together before the briefing with Star-
fleet Command on Deep Space Five," Crusher said.
    "No need." Pulaski stood. "They're already togeth-
er. I like to finish my tasks before going to bed. I sleep
better that way. Good night all."
    She heard them say good night as she stepped from
the ready room to the bridge. Commander Riker sat
in the captain's chair, and he smiled at her as she
walked past. Data said hello and Geordi, who was at
the engineering station on the bridge, asked her if she
was doing all right.
    "I'm fine," she said, and stepped into the turbolift.
What she didn't tell them was how much she'd miss
them, just like she would miss Kellec. It seemed as if
her life was about moving away from the people she
cared about.
    She sighed. If there was one thing she had learned
in all her years in Starfleet, it was that every time she
left one group behind, she found another--different
but just as good--ahead. She knew that. But it
seemed as if she would never find a group quite like
this one again.
    Or perhaps she was just tired. Things always
seemed better after she got a little sleep.


The End