Disclaimer: The characters used are the property of Paramount and no copyright infringement is
intended in their use.

                         Ashes to Ashes
                                                  
                       by Gail M. Eppers

  
     "Garak, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," said Julian Bashir, as he took a seat
across from his friend and prepared to eat his large portion of spaghetti.  "Do you ever regret
having
joined the Obsidian Order?  If you hadn't, chances are you wouldn't be in exile now."  He twirled
his
fork in the spaghetti.
     "I wouldn't say regret, Julian."  Garak admitted with a sigh.  "But fate plays strange tricks.  I
wouldn't have met you, either."  He sipped some odd type of opaque gray soup that had the
appearance of something swimming in it.
     "No regrets?"  Julian asked.  "You'd do it again?"
     Garak hid his eyes mysteriously for a moment, then looked up again.  "Do you have regrets,
Doctor?"
     "I asked you first."  Julian grinned a little.  
     "To be honest, I can't say."  Garak took another sip, looking as if he were considering fishing
for whatever was creating the current in his soup.  "It's hard to determine regrets until the story is
finished."
     "Pardon me?"
     Garak let his spoon sit in the bowl.  "Hindsight, Doctor.  The regrets I feel now, if any, might
be inconsequential compared to what is in store for me in the future."
     Julian squinted at Garak, trying to glean some wisdom.  "You mean, you can't say if you have
regrets until your life is over?  Until you can see the whole picture?"
     "Naturally.  You see, Julian, things generally work out in time.  No matter what you think of
things now, the perspective changes.  As a child, you regret being punished by your parents, but
as an
adult you appreciate the discipline.  In time, events lose the appearance of  random chance, and," 
he
illustrated his point by placing his arms far apart and slowly bringing his cupped hands together,
"come together to reveal a logical progression.  You can't judge one portion out of context."
     "Ah.  I see."  Julian gave up on twirling and began cutting his spaghetti into pieces he could
scoop up with his fork.   "You're avoiding the question."  He quipped.
     A few tables away, major Kira Nerys sat chatting with a rather handsome Bajoran man.  She
rose casually. "Come on, Merl.  I'll walk you to the Noc Tel. It's almost launch time." She made
her way through the maze of tables, detouring once when a rather large man was simply unable
to pull in his chair far enough to allow her to pass.
          Coti Merl, a head taller, followed her with ease, continuing the conversation as they exited
the replimat.  "Nerys, I still can't believe we're even going on this mission," he said as he
followed her path through the crowded tables.
          Kira smiled over her shoulder.  "Get used to it, Merl.  It's about time Bajor sent through a
science vessel of its own.  I'm glad the Council overruled Kai Winn."  She stepped into the open
corridor and turned to wait for Merl to join her before walking on.  "I only wish I could have
been there to see the look on her face when the decision came down."
          Merl grimaced. "I only wish I hadn't been there.  Even the Prophets turned their backs," he
joked as they strolled down the promenade, "I worship the Prophets as much as she does, but
nowhere do the Prophets demand we remain in ignorance.  And we cannot simply expect other
races to give us all the information they collect; let them take on all the risks."  He stopped at a
window and looked out.  The Eye of the Prophets was out there, and would open for him very
soon. "Hundreds of ships from hundreds of cultures have traveled through the Celestial Temple. 
Kai Winn cannot argue that it's not safe.  If the Prophets don't want us to do this, they will let us
know in their own way."  He started walking again.  "How many times have you traveled through
the Celestial Temple, Nerys?"
     "Oh, countless times, Merl," Kira said. "I prefer to watch from here, though.  It's more
thrilling to me to watch the wormhole, than to enter into it."  They walked in silence for a small
time, then Kira stopped at an airlock. "Well, Merl.  This is where you get off."
          Coti Merl gave Kira a kiss on the cheek.  "You helped make this happen for us, Nerys. 
Your
speech to the Council was very inspiring, even if it was via comlink."
          "Thank you." She blushed. The airlock rolled open, and he stepped inside, stopping to look
back at Kira.  "I envy you, Merl," she told him.   "I might be jaded now, but there's nothing like
the first time.  Savor it."
          "I shall.  See you next week!"  Then he disappeared, and the door rolled back into place.
     

          "Captain's log, supplemental.  It's been a little more than four hours since the Noc Tel
went
through the wormhole and already celebrations have begun on Bajor.  This first purely scientific
mission, by a Bajoran ship, with a full Bajoran crew, holds great meaning for them.  It's a sign of
their growing independence from both Cardassia and the Federation, as well as an admission
into the expanding scientific community regarding the wormhole and the Gamma Quadrant.  In a
way, I can't help but be proud of them."  
          Sisko was interrupted by the sound of an incoming call.   "Dax to Sisko."
          "Sisko.  What is it, old man?"
          "I've got elevated neutrino readings.  Something's coming through the wormhole."
          "I thought nothing was expected today."  He came out of his office and down the stairs to
Ops in time to see the wormhole opening on the main screen.  
          "Nothing was," Dax replied from her station. Her fingers flew over her controls, and
her eyes floated from one readout to the next. 
          Sisko saw Dax's brow furrow and walked over to stand beside her station.  On screen, the
wormhole spat out a gray dot, then closed unceremoniously.  The gray dot floated.  It was dark.
          "Life signs?"
          Dax was still working her board, but was shaking her head.  "Benjamin . . . "
          "What is it?"
          Kira answered from her station, "It's the Noc Tel."  She said, mystified.
          "What?"  Sisko didn't know who to ask.
          "Confirmed, Benjamin," Dax said, "And I'm getting no power readings . . . " she raised her
head as if looking at the screen would give her the answers she wasn't finding on her
instruments, ". . . and no life signs."


          Sisko's stomach felt like he'd swallowed cement.  Four hours ago, that ship had carried one
hundred fifty Bajorans through the wormhole.  Now it returned with no life signs?  "Tractor it to
five
hundred kilometers," Sisko ordered.  
     "Aye, Sir," replied Dax as she complied.  The ship hovered on the viewscreen, a derelict. 
But no visible damage was apparent.  "Still no power readings. And no atmosphere."  Dax's
confusion was obvious.
          "No atmosphere?  None?" Sisko questioned.  "Even with life support off, there would be
atmosphere for over a day.  Where did it go?  Is there a hull breach?"
          Kira broke in, "There's no external damage, Captain."  She turned to face Sisko. "Sir,
request
permission to beam over and investigate."
          Sisko remained outwardly calm. "An investigation is certainly in order, Major."  He
stepped
over to her station, keeping his voice at a normal level, but faced Dax. "Dax. You and Dr.
Bashir. 
Take
full enviro-suits."
          Dax nodded, and headed for the turbolift. "Dax to Dr. Bashir. We have an away mission. 
I'll
fill you in when I get there."  The lift dropped Dax from view.
          "Captain --" Kira began immediately.
          Sisko raised a hand to stop her. "Major, I realize you had friends on that ship.  I'm sorry,
but
that would compromise the investigation." Kira opened her mouth to object further, but before
she could speak, he continued, "Tell me that you haven't already decided the Cardassians are
responsible."  Kira stopped short, and remained silent, looking guilty. "I'm sure you see my
point, then." As he headed for his office, he added, "By the way, it'll be your job to keep a
transporter lock and an open comlink on them until they come back.  I'll be in my office, if you
need me."
          Well, at least he gave me something to do, she thought.  Deep down, she knew he was
right.
As much as she wanted to jump in, Dax and the doctor were better qualified to find the answers
over there.  It was just very hard for her to stay put and wait.  Then she suddenly thought of
something, and ran after Sisko.  "Benjamin, wait!"
          Sisko stopped on the steps, but only impatiently turned sideways.  "Major, my decision --" 
          "It's not about that! It's about the Noc Tel." When she saw that Sisko was receptive, she
continued, "It might mean nothing, but during the occupation, the Noc Tel served as Gul Dukat's
private yacht."
          He turned to face her full, "His private yacht? Has it been used since?"
          Kira shook her head, "It was pulled out of storage for this mission. The Cardassians could
have left a booby trap."  In fact, she was almost sure of it.  Why would they give the ship back
otherwise?  It never did make sense that Dukat hadn’t claimed it.  He'd made sure they’d
trashed
everything else on the station. She recalled the weeks of cleanup after Starfleet officers had
arrived,
and then the discovery of the Noc Tel parked intact at a landing site in Delcore Province.  No
one had wanted to use it then, but surely they’d given it a thorough investigation before
launching
it. 
She ground her teeth just thinking about Dukat.  Who else would have had access?  Hmmmm.
Maybe she could contribute to the investigation without beaming over . . . 
          Sisko hesitated, considering, "Interesting theory.  We'll have to see what turns up."  With
that,
he went into his office, leaving Kira to wonder what exactly he meant.  He merely wanted to
stop himself from jumping to conclusions.  So far, all they had was a derelict ship.  Sure, it was
possible the crew  were all dead.  It was also possible the crew weren't even on the ship anymore. 
Until
they had the results from the investigation, he knew it simply wasn't wise to speculate.  Besides,
he had a task to take care of now.  An unpleasant one, that would be difficult enough without
worrying about blame just now.
          "Computer," Sisko commanded, "establish a link with the Bajoran Council.  I need to
speak
with Kai Winn."  He sat at his desk and faced the small monitor.  
          In a few moments, the Bajoran symbol appeared, followed by Kai Winn herself.  "How
delightful, Emissary." Her overly tolerant voice normally irritated Sisko.  Today, he didn't even
notice.  "To what do I owe this honor?"
          Sisko remained serious, "I'm sorry, Kai.  I have some bad news for you."   Her face showed
several emotions in the next few moments as Sisko explained what had transpired.  Sorrow, at
first, and rage, disappointment, suspicion, and confusion. Sisko apologized again, "I thought it
best to inform you immediately.  Naturally, I will notify you as soon as we discover anything."
          "Please do, Emissary.  I will refrain from making this public until I know more, however."
          "Of course, Kai.  Sisko out."
          The screen went blank, and Sisko leaned back in his chair.  He hadn't mentioned it, but he
was sure the Kai knew the history of the Noc Tel at least as well as Kira, and was probably
coming to similar conclusions. It certainly didn't bode well.  But until he got news from Dax and
Bashir, he wasn't about to go pointing fingers.  


          Dax had filled Dr. Bashir in on what they had found out so far.  They were in the locker
room, struggling into the snug-fitting enviro suits.  Wordlessly, they checked each other's
controls and compressed air tanks, and grabbed flashlights and tricorders out of a storage bin. 
"Ready?"  Dax asked.
          Bashir nodded inside his helmet, then checked his tricorder settings. 
          Dax touched her comm unit. "Dax to Ops.  Two ready for transport."
          "Acknowledged," Kira replied. "Setting coordinates for the Noc Tel's bridge." 
          A second later, Dax and Bashir stood in complete darkness.  Swiftly, they turned on their
flashlights and began scanning the room.  They were only a few feet from the command chair,
which was occupied.  Bashir ran his light over the body. "Oh my God."  The pit of his stomach
began to harden.
          In the command chair sat a rotting corpse, its nearly absent lips leaving the impression of a
grin on the unrecognizable face. The uniform it wore, having been made from natural fibers, also
showed signs of deterioration, enough to reveal exposed internal organs beneath it. "I know it's
impossible, but from the looks of him, he's been dead for at least six weeks."  Though, as a
doctor, he'd smelled things worse than rotting flesh, he began to appreciate the fresh air pumped
to him inside his suit. 
          "Any sign of bacteria, or fungus?" Dax, despite the horrible sight in front of her, remained
clinical with deceptive ease.  The combined memories encased in her symbiont gave her an
unsuspected maturity, even in the most tragic of circumstances.  Rather than dwell on the
gruesome
details, her curiosity to find the cause took over.     
          Bashir switched from his visual inspection to his tricorder. "Not anymore. The lack of
atmosphere would have killed any kind of biological infection.  That doesn't mean that's not
what caused this."  He adjusted a dial. "They may have pumped the air into space in an attempt
to stop what was happening."
          Dax had continued to move her light around the room, revealing more dead bodies at
several
workstations, all similarly decayed.  "I guess the first order of business is to see if we can bring
the power back up and get into the ship's logs." She went over to a control panel and slid into the
thankfully unoccupied chair. "While I'm working on that, Julian, why don't you make your way
to sickbay?  Maybe the doctor left some notes."
          "I'm on it." He started to approach the turbolift doors, then remembered there was no
power.
"I'll have to take the Jeffries tubes.  I'll contact you when I get there."  He opened the floor panel
and
lowered himself into it, then closed it behind him.
          Dax nodded, and bent to her task.  She lowered herself to the floor, where she found
another
body huddled under the next console, and pried off a panel.  She wasn't entirely successful at
keeping her attention focused.  To begin with, she didn't know of any substance that would do
this
kind of damage so quickly, which told her it wasn't one substance they were looking for, but a
combination.  Something manmade.  And that frightened her even more.  
          She stopped what she was doing and looked at the young woman near her.  She had died
sitting up, arms around her knees, her head tucked in.  Curiously, Dax reached over and lifted
her head, and the woman's Bajoran communicator flashed in the light.  Dax found herself staring
at
the communicator, and at her apparently tattered uniform.  She was a science officer, like Dax
herself.  It was hard to guess her age, but she was probably younger than Kira.  Gently, Dax let
the
head fall forward again.  She looked at the blood-smeared finger of the enviro suit she had used,
then
laughed at herself, at the instant of irrational worry about having touched her, and went back to
work.
          Several minutes went by before her helmet mike beeped. "Bashir to Dax."
          "Go ahead, Julian."
          In sickbay, Julian played his flashlight over four bodies, little more than skeletons.  One
lay
face down on a biobed, as if flung there, one leg still dangling toward the floor.  Julian sighed
heavily
to settle his stomach. "The degree of decomposition is even more severe here.  I believe it may
have
started in sickbay.  How close are you to getting power?"
          As if in reply, the power came on and Julian found himself blinking at the bright lights.  "I
was waiting for you,"  she replied. "I didn't want you to get caught in any energy fields."
          He turned off the flashlight and went to the computer console.  "Now I know it started
here."
     "Why is that?"
          "There are quarantine measures in place.  The door's been sealed.  There are force fields in
place through every entry point." Bashir realized Dax must have suspected this. "thanks for
waiting."  
          "See if you can get at the doctor's log.  I'll contact Captain Sisko."
          Using the shipboard communications station, she contacted the station, using only an
audio
signal, “Dax to Sisko."
          "Sisko here.  Don't you have visual?"
          She hadn't turned on visual communications, because of the carnage on the bridge.  "I'm
not
sure it would be wise, just yet.  I thought you'd appreciate a warning."
          Sisko's brow furrowed. "A warning about what?"
          “There are several severely decayed bodies,” Dax described.  "Internal organs and some
bones are exposed.  If anyone would rather not see this, I think they should be free to leave Ops." 

          "Understood." He addressed Kira, Worf, and three others present.  "You heard the
description of the scene.  If you wish to leave, it will not be held against you.  If you'd prefer to
turn your back, please do so now."  No one moved. After a pause, he added, to Dax, "Go ahead."
          There was a unanimous sharp intake of air when the Noc Tel's bridge appeared on screen. 
"My God," Kira said, looking pale. Now, with normal lighting, the ghastly scene was even more
shocking.  At several workstations sat partially decomposed corpses, each looking like nothing
more
than a collection of raw, festering wounds. 
          "Any speculation on what caused this?" Sisko asked Dax.
          "Not yet," she replied, her voice somewhat tinny coming from her helmet. "I'm going to
check the bridge logs, and Julian's in sickbay checking the medical logs. We should have
something in thirty minutes, possibly sooner."
          "Acknowledged.  Sisko out."  
          Ops was very quiet.

          Kira really thought she could handle everything.  She'd seen a lot of death while she was in
the Resistance. But knowing somewhere on that ship the body of Coti Merl looked like that, and
that
everyone there had been Bajoran, made her feel ill. She fought it while Dax was on screen.  But
after
she signed off, Kira discreetly asked Sisko if she could freshen up before the next report came
in. 
She thought he might suspect her of trying to interfere with the investigation from the privacy of
her
quarters.  But she must have looked as green as she felt, for Sisko dismissed her for the next
fifteen
minutes.
          She got to her quarters, locked the door behind her, and fell supine on the couch, throwing
one arm over her eyes.  But being in the dark didn't help at all.  
          "You have an incoming message waiting," the computer informed her.  
          "Who is it from?"  she asked, dropping her arm to her side to dispel the darkness.
          "Coti Merl, aboard the Noc Tel."
          She sat straight up, then hurried to her terminal, "Playback."   Merl's head and shoulders
appeared on the screen.  He was smiling, looking exhilarated. The time index read just twelve
minutes after they had gone through the wormhole.  "I can't talk long, Nerys.  I just wanted to tell
you
that the trip through the Eye of the Prophets was amazing!  This is the most exciting thing that's
ever
happened to me.  I could die a happy Bajoran now, I really could."  He was distracted by
something
offscreen, then, "Sorry, I've got to go.  There's so much to learn!"  He reached forward, and the
screen
went blank.
          Kira sat there for a minute, staring at the blank screen, "Computer, save this message." 
There
was a beep as the system did so.  She gathered her composure, then headed for the shower.


          Less than fifteen minutes later, Kira was in a fresh uniform and back at her station.  This
was
going to be a long haul.
          "Dax to Sisko." 
          "Go ahead."
          "I have access to the Captain's log.  It's, uh, not very long."
          "On the main screen, Dax." Sisko was anxious to see this.  Dax pushed a few buttons, then
her image disappeared from the screen to be replaced with that of a handsome, blue-eyed blond
Bajoran.
          Kira blinked.  Bor Yazel.  She knew him by reputation only.  He had earned the captaincy
of
the Noc Tel because of his skills in the Resistance.  He'd led his own resistence cell through
many
successful attacks.  His mind was sharp, and quick, while his body was deceptively lanky.  The
Cardassians would look at him and not see the highly trained musculature underneath, and then
fall
victim to his cunning.  
          "Captain's Log," Yazel began.  Instead of quoting a stardate, a time and date index based
on
the Bajoran calendar appeared centered at the bottom of the screen.  "We are about to embark on
a
scientific mission that we all know is more symbolic than anything else.  The information we
will gather has already been gathered, but as Bajorans, this crew knows the value of learning
something firsthand.  For the record, we are all here voluntarily.  This could be a historic flight. 
It
could be forgotten next week.  We don't know, and we don't care.  We take on this mission to
break
the ice surrounding our home world.  If we are ever to become independent, we must begin to
act
like we already are.  Bor out."
          The time index jumped forward about forty five minutes.  Captain Bor continued, "We
have
been in the Gamma Quadrant about forty minutes now.  But I am concerned.  My ship's surgeon
has
informed me that he and several members of his staff are ill.  He has been unable to diagnose the
cause.  We may have to return earlier than expected."
          A jump of twenty minutes.  The skin on Bor's face had become gray, "My surgeon has
quarantined our sickbay.  Nevertheless, several crew members are showing symptoms of the
illness."  He was distracted by something off screen for a moment. "What?"  He bowed his
head. "My surgeon is dead.  I am ordering our return.  I am tempted to say that the Prophets have
abandoned us."
          Another jump of thirty minutes.  "This will be my last log entry."  Captain Bor's face was
speckled and peeling, and he was in obvious pain. "There seems to be no stopping this thing," he
grimaced, leaning into his arm with his stomach, "Sixty people are dead now, the remainder,
including myself, are dying. I take full responsibility for what I am about to do.  Assuming
nothing can survive in a vacuum, I am ordering a complete shutdown of all systems, including
life
support. The air we have will be pumped out into space to speed this process.  I see no need to
prolong it, and it is best done while there is someone alive to do it. The longer we wait, the more
chance of something surviving to be spread when this ship is recovered. 
          "After much personal debate, I have set a course for the wormhole, to return home.  If this
is
what awaits Bajorans in the Celestial Temple, Bajor needs to know,"  he paused, searching for
some
profound last words, "I can only say that, even now, I do not regret coming on this mission.  I
think I
can speak for all my shipmates when I say, I am proud to have served Bajor in life and hope that
our
deaths, somehow, will serve as well."  Looking very tired and sad, he signed off.
          Although the screen cut to a visual of Dax, all remained silent for more than a minute.  It
was worse than they could have suspected.  It had spread throughout the crew in less than two
hours.
Then Sisko asked quietly, "Has Bashir found anything?"
          "I'll patch you through." Dax turned to her board, and shortly the screen split, with Dax on
the
bridge on one side, and Julian Bashir crouching near a body in sickbay on the other.  Bashir,
who, of
course, had been monitoring the play of the log, rose to face the camera.
          "Captain."
          "Report, please."
          Bashir indicated the bodies, or rather, skeletons around him, "It's pretty much the same
story.
The doctor's log is extremely brief, simply saying that he was going to put his time into trying to
stop
this 'plague', he called it, rather than attending to such niceties as logs. I've searched through the
records he was able to accumulate, but the fact is, it was just too fast.  They were just too busy
dealing with what was happening to leave behind any clues."
          Kira said, "But it's obvious it did start there, in sickbay."
          "Yes,"  Bashir agreed, "but I haven't been able to locate a source.  Any traces of
bacteriological infection would have been destroyed in the vacuum."  He stepped a bit closer.
"However, I do have one recommendation." Sisko waited expectantly. "Neither Dax nor I can
return
to the station until we know exactly what we are dealing with."
          "Understood," Sisko replied.
          "We appear to be safe inside the suits for the moment," Julian explained. After all, they'd
been there more than an hour already with no symptoms. "But I believe the risk of contamination
is
too great. It could be something the biofilters aren't programmed to detect."
          "I agree with Julian, Benjamin," Dax said.  "And I think we should leave life support off,
as
well.  The fewer conditions we change, the safer we are.  The rate of decomposition seems to
have
halted when the vacuum was created." She looked down for a second. "That gives us another six
hours or so with these air tanks.  You can beam over more air tanks if we need them."
          "Very well."  Sisko wasn't too pleased with the way the investigation was going.  "Any
idea
what to look for next?"
          Behind Sisko, the turbolift rose and deposited Garak in Ops.  Garak had his head down,
considering how to phrase a request to expedite a delayed shipment of a rare cloth.  He raised his
head as he neared Kira, intending to inquire about seeing Sisko, but instead he saw the
viewscreen
and stood there horrified, unnoticed by the preoccupied Ops crew.
          "We need to find the source, if there even is one to find," Bashir replied immediately. "It
may
help us identify what biological or chemical agents we're dealing with."
          "I'll join you in sickbay, Julian," Dax said, and left the bridge, the doors opening as she
approached.  Kira swiftly changed the visual to show only sickbay.  
          "Keep in touch," Sisko ordered.  The screen went blank, then showed the exterior of the
ship,
but Sisko knew Kira was monitoring both visual and audio signals coming from it.
          "My word," Garak gasped, his quest for cloth forgotten.
          Sisko turned in irritation at the unexpected voice. "Garak, what are you doing here?"
          Garak was too stunned by what he had seen to do more than stammer at first. "Wha-what
happened?"
          Sisko respected Garak's open horror and softened, "That's what we're trying to find out."
          Garak quickly collected himself. "I believe I can help you with that."

          Dax reached sickbay, but stopped in the corridor to make sure Julian had disabled the
quarantine.  The door opened, but she only took two steps in before stopping and staring at her
tricorder. "Julian, why I am reading an atmosphere in here?" She called out, knowing he was in
there
somewhere, though she couldn't see him.
          "What?"  He rose from his position where he'd been crouching over yet another body on
the
other side of one of the biobeds.
          Dax then hurried over and scanned him, "Are your tanks leaking?"  She shook her head,
"No,
your tanks are fine."  She frowned. "Where is it coming from?"
          Bashir adjusted his tricorder and examined the readings himself.  "It's a very thin
atmosphere.
And the ratios aren't steady." 
          Dax was moving, trying to triangulate. "It's coming from over here." She approached a
computer panel and bent down to pry it off.  She peered inside, with Bashir looking over her
shoulder. "I've found something."  Inside, among the tubes and optical cables, sat a small round
metal
box.  "Duo-tritanium casing. I can't seem to scan the interior, but it's producing alternating
quantities
of oxygen, nitrogen, argon, and other trace elements."
          "How?"
          "I can only think of one way,"  Dax looked at Bashir through her helmet, her eyes filled
with
worry,  "Chemical reaction.  Something is breaking down."


          Sisko sat at his desk, staring at Garak.  Kira stood nearby, ready as always to slaughter
Garak
where he sat if she deemed it necessary.  Garak did not wait for Sisko's prompting."  They are
looking for a bomb."
          Kira laughed. "A bomb?  There was no explosion!"  Garak could help, yeah, right, she
thought.                 "It's not that kind of bomb, Major,"  Garak explained, with a glance of
dismissal toward her. "It was probably built right here, as a matter of fact, on Terok Nor."
          Sisko steepled his fingers. "Terok Nor was an ore refinery, not a bomb factory."
          "Ah." Garak leaned in to rest one forearm on Sisko's desk. "You see, the 'bomb factory', as
you
call it, was an Obsidian Order project.  Highly classified.  Even Gul Dukat would not have been
aware of it."  He seemed quite proud that he alone had this knowledge.
          Sisko and Kira's attention zeroed in on him.  This was beginning to make sense. Kira sat
on
one corner of the desk, facing Garak. "Spill it, Garak."
          Garak was offended. "Really, Major!  That's hardly a helpful attitude.  I have every
intention
of being completely honest with you about this."  Kira did not seem to be convinced, but allowed
him
to continue, "Some years ago, I helped, in a small way, really, to run Project Ash.  The object
was to
invent a way of reducing humanoid tissue to ash, or even less, without the danger of open
flames.
Our best scientists worked on it for years, right here, on the lower levels."
          "They were successful," Sisko stated without feeling.
          "I wasn't appraised of their success, unfortunately.  I was transferred before the project
reached completion, if it ever truly did."  He grew very serious. "I'm afraid I don't have much
more to
tell you."
          Kira asked, "What was in the bomb?"
     "Why, chemicals, of course."
          Kira refrained from slapping him. "Which chemicals?"
          "I...have no idea," He seemed ashamed as he explained, "My part in the project was, well, 
. .
."
          "Garak . . . " Kira and Sisko said warningly.
          "All right!  I . . . cleaned up."
          "You cleaned up?"  Kira almost laughed.  A member of the Obsidian Order doing manual
labor!
          "Someone had to!" Garak jumped to his own defense.  "The project was classified.  We
couldn't have unauthorized Cardassians handling any part of it.  Security was extremely tight!" 
He
squirmed slightly in his chair.  “To be honest, I wasn’t officially a member of the Order at the
time,
either, but my father was.  Through his influence, I obtained a position on the project that
provided
no esteem of any kind.  I was to ‘absorb’ the ways of the Order, and prove myself trustworthy. 
But
I wasn’t allowed to participate in any of the scientific aspects of the project.  I was expected
only to
wash beakers and test tubes and to mop floors without question.”
          "Can you give us names?" Sisko asked.
          "Names?" Garak questioned. "Whose names?"
          Kira leaned in very close to Garak's face. "The names of anyone who might know which
chemicals were in that bomb."  
          Garak could swear he'd never seen her face more stern.  He squirmed in his seat again.
He'd
been afraid they would ask for names.  He was literally putting his life on the line here.  But he
knew
from the expression on Kira's face that he wouldn't leave this room alive if he didn't cooperate.  
"I'll
have to think about this . . . " he stalled.  It wasn't entirely a lie.  After all, he hadn't exactly been
overly friendly with any of the scientists, and his time with them had been quite a few years ago.  
          "Kira," Sisko said, never taking his eyes off Garak, "go give a full report to Dax and
Bashir." 
Kira hesitated, not wanting to leave her captain alone with such a scoundrel as Garak, but did as
she
was told.  After she was gone, Sisko continued, "All right, Garak.  Names."
          Without Kira's amazingly intimidating presence, his memory worked better.  “The
scientist in
charge at the time was Bilka Rey.”  Garak let his memory fade gently into the past, recalling
faces
and saying the names.  “Vhizu Tunser, Preg Nuywil, Greena Tendo, Ylar Web. . .  ”  He stopped
to
swallow.  “And Darel.  Darel B’Cor.”  He blinked to bring himself back to the present.  He
didn’t
want to remember her.  She’d been the only one to show him the least compassion, so naturally
he’d developed a childhood crush on her.  Though he had had the sense to know it could never
be, it
hurt even now to think of her turning away from him.  
          As Garak spoke, Sisko punched the names into his datapad, "Do you know of any of their
whereabouts?"
          Garak thought some more, "Come to think of it, he's dead."  He pointed to the name of
Vhizu
Tunser on the list  and Sisko deleted it.  "He was assassinated shortly before my transfer.  As for
the
others, I'm sorry to say I haven't kept in touch."
          Sisko bowed his head, steeling himself for the next question.  "Garak, I have two people
over there.  Are they safe?"  Garak shouldn't have known who they were, but Sisko got the
feeling
that he knew exactly which two people he was referring to.
          Garak's eyes clouded over briefly, and he was obviously uncertain of what he was about to
say. "Naturally, I'm not entirely sure."  Garak’s heart skipped a beat.  After his journey through
the
past, he’d forgotten recent events.  He searched carefully through what little factual data he
could
recall for anything hopeful.  "But if the bomb works the way I understand it, the suits should
protect
them fully.  I believe it was supposed to be airborne; as long as they remain working in a
vacuum, in
the suits, I would say they are safe." 
          But Sisko was satisfied. "Thank you, Garak. You've been extremely helpful."  Garak got
up to
leave, but Sisko stopped him. "One more thing, don't leave town."  
          Garak left, completely confused by that last remark.

 
          Very gently, Dax lifted the titanium sphere from its hiding place.  She set it on the
scanning
table, and both she and Bashir watched their tricorders.  "The casing is at least three layers of
duo-titanium.  Kira, are you getting this?"
          "Affirmative, Dax. Your tricorder data is going directly into our data banks."  
          "You know, just because this is producing atmosphere, doesn't make it the source of the
contamination." Bashir suggested.  "I'm not seeing any electronic signals coming from it,
though."  If it was meant to work in tandem with another device, it would have to communicate
with
it. "How do we get it open?"
          "I'm not sure.  I don't think breaking it is a good idea.  We might need to put it back
together
again."  She kept looking from the object to the tricorder and back again.  "I'm reading a
microscopic
seam around the circumference."
          "Confirmed. One billionth of a millimeter.  Got a crowbar?"


          "Chief O'Brien, report to Ops," Sisko said from the staircase.  Kira and Worf turned from
their stations questioningly.  He had intended to call a meeting of the senior staff to discuss the
situation, but he realized that except for O'Brien, the staff was already here.  And they didn't
really
have time for formalities anyway.  
          A minute later, O'Brien stepped off the lift.  "Captain," he acknowledged.  "I've been
following the transmissions and was already on my way. What can I do?"
     "Take Kira's station," Sisko said, "Kira, I want you to start tracing the origin of that bomb." 
Kira nodded.  She went to a neighboring console, running names of contacts through her mind
and
placing a call to one who always seemed to be at the top of the list.   "O'Brien, monitor all
transmissions.  Inform me of any new developments.  Worf, start scanning for ships.  As of now,
this
station is off limits.  We don't need any company.  No one docks and no one leaves, is that
clear?" 
Worf and O'Brien both nodded and bent to their tasks.


          "Hello, Major!"  came the delighted voice and face of Gul Dukat from Kira's small screen.
          "This is not a pleasure call, Dukat."
          "What can I do for you, Major?" Dukat, to his credit, seemed to be placing himself at her
service.  
          "You've heard of the voyage of the Noc Tel, no doubt?"
          "Yes."
      "It returned with all hands dead."
          Dukat seemed completely surprised, and shocked. "Dead?  How?"
          Kira explained what they knew so far.  With the existence of the bomb confirmed by Dax's
recent discovery, there was no reason, in Kira's mind, to avoid bluntness.  "I expect the
Cardassian
military to take full responsibility and to pay restitution to Bajor and to the families of the dead
crew."
          "Now, wait a minute, Major."  Dukat was offended and drew back from the screen
haughtily.
"I don't know how that bomb got there--as Garak told you, I knew nothing of what the Obsidian
Order was doing on my station-- but I assure you none of my military officers is responsible, nor
I. 
The only people who had access to such a device would have been the Obsidian Order itself."  
          Kira took a moment to judge Dukat's honesty.  And at the moment, she couldn't fault it. 
As
much as it galled her, she apologized. "Sorry, Dukat. If I'm wrong, that is.  Can you help us get to
the
bottom of this?"
          Dukat shook his head in confusion, "I don't know how.  I have no connection to the Order. 
I
know as much as you do, Major. I'm sorry."  He leaned closer to the video pickup, "But would
you be
so kind as to keep me informed?  I'm really very sorry this happened."  
          "You're saying they wouldn't have left a booby trap?  Why did you even leave the ship
here?
Intact?"
          Offended at the implication that his people had rigged the Noc Tel, Dukat sighed and took
on
a tone as if explaining something to a small child.   "It's no mystery, Major.  The Noc Tel had no
offensive capabilities and extremely limited defensive capabilities, at least when we released
her. 
We couldn't very well take a ship like that to Cardassia as a war prize. It would be considered a
joke. 
It wasn't even worth taking it in tow."  He paused a beat. "You know, Major, until the very last
day,
the Noc Tel was considered a Cardassian ship.  Why would we booby-trap our own ship?"
          Kira didn't have an answer.  Not one she wanted to share with Dukat, anyway.  But her
heart
ached as she realized what might have happened.  Could the bomb have been placed there by a
member of the Resistance in an effort to destroy Dukat?  If so, how would they have gotten hold
of
it?


          Sisko was also making calls.  
          “Captain, I was expecting to hear from you.”  Gul Dukat was solemn.  “Major Kira told
me
what has happened.”
          “I was hoping you could help us.”  Sisko began.  “I have a list of names of people
involved in
creating that bomb.  We need to find them.  We need detailed information on how the bomb
works.” 
Without being asked, Sisko transmitted a copy of the list.  
     "You have a landing party over there,"  Dukat said.  It was not a question and Sisko did not
reply.  Dukat’s eyes lowered as he received the list.  “Captain,” he replied, shaking his head. 
“These are all members of the Obsidian Order.”  He gave a deep, disappointed sigh.  “I’ll see
what
I can do.”   
          Sisko waited while Dukat ran a search on the names, hoping Dukat’s security clearance
went far enough.  On screen, Dukat’s head tilted to one side, then the other, as he examined his
own
viewscreen.  Finally, he looked up.  “I’ve managed to find one, Captain."  He sounded surprised
at
his own success.    "I believe she’s the only one still alive, although she has left the Order.  It
would
appear that she’s still in favor, for whatever reason, with one of her superiors, who is keeping
her
under his protection, or rather surveillance,  on Cardassia Prime.   I take it you mean to contact
her?”
          “Of course.”
          Dukat sadly transmitted the coordinates to Sisko.  “I would advise you to speak quickly.”
          As soon as he broke the connection to Dukat, Sisko called Garak to his office.  When
Garak
arrived, Sisko rose to let him sit at the comm station. "Garak, I need you to talk to Darel B'Cor. 
She
was one of the scientists who developed the bomb."
          Garak sat gingerly, "How did you find her?"
          Sisko waved away the question.  "I pulled in a few favors."  Sisko suspected that Dukat
was
anxious to clear the Cardassians from blame, for this surely would not aid their peace efforts.
"But
that's not important.  She probably won't talk to me, at least not honestly.  We need the names of
those chemicals."  He leaned on the desk.  Although he had temporarily relinquished his chair,
he
was not leaving his side of the desk. "She's not in the Order anymore.  If anyone will talk to us,
she
will."
          "You don't know what you're asking."  Garak couldn't say it outright.  No one really left
the
Order.  He looked at the screen, showing the Cardassian communique symbol. If she was still on
Cardassia, just accepting this call could mean her life.  Then he thought of Dax and Bashir
trapped
on that ship, and gritted his teeth.
          "Is the channel secure?" He looked at the screen again, trying to imagine what she would
look
like after all these years.
          "Yes. Ready?"  When Garak nodded, Sisko made the connection.
          "Hello?" Out of the corner of his eye, Sisko looked at the screen, not wanting to let the
video
pick him up.  She was a rather frail-looking Cardassian woman.  No, not frail.  Delicate.  Time
had
apparently treated her well. She seemed to recognize the man on her screen, and smiled, "Elim!"
Then she looked frightened, and sorry she had said it.  Trying to sound casual, she continued,
"How
nice to hear from you!"
          "Darel, it's good to see you."
               Her eyes shifted from side to side. "I'm not in the Order anymore.  You know what that
means."  
          His heart twisted in his chest.  It meant, please hang up. I'm not supposed to talk to you.
Although the channel was secure on his end, he knew it couldn't possibly be secure on hers.
They're listening . . .   He felt like an ogre. "I'm sorry, but this is very important, Darel."
          She knew it was probably already too late.  Talking to an exile was bad enough.  She
might
be tortured for it, but should survive.  But she knew there was only one subject he could be
calling
about.  The only thing they had in common.  And that was a death sentence for sure. He could
see it
in her face.  "How can I help you?"
          "I need information regarding Project Ash."
          She gasped.  He might just as well have asked her to send her right arm through subspace. 
"It's classified, E-- " she stopped herself from saying his name again.  She was already
considering
herself dead, and she didn't want to condemn him as well.   Her hands began to float over her
comm
panel.  "I don't think I can help you."
          What happened next only took seconds.  Behind her, two Cardassian soldiers materialized
with disruptors drawn.  She didn't turn, but redoubled her efforts at the comm panel.  She
pressed one final button; Sisko and Garak saw them both fire, heard her quickly aborted scream,
and
the signal was gone.  Garak sat back in the chair, stunned.  It was as if he had killed her himself.
          Sisko pushed his way to the front of the screen, allowing Garak to remain in the chair.
"She
sent us something,"  he said.  "Two files. Garak?"
          Garak didn't answer.  
          "Garak?"  Sisko repeated, a little louder.
          "Hmmm?" Garak came out of his stupor.  "I'm all right, Captain."
          "What do you make of these files?"
          Garak looked at the screen again, where Sisko had displayed the information.  He blinked
a
few times to focus. "One's encrypted.  The other's a code key."  Automatically, he set about
decrypting the file.   Sisko remained silent while he worked.


          "What about a microlaser?"  Dax suggested, as they both stared at the metal orb resting in
the
center of the table. 
          "Not fine enough for this," Bashir replied.  "I wouldn't want to rush into this, Dax.  It could
be
booby trapped."
          "Well, when we figure out how to open it, we'll take precautions."  Dax began walking
around it, trying to see it from new angles. "We can set up a grade-one force field and do it by
remote.  Can you refine the microlaser?"
          But Bashir was examining his tricorder readings.  "I think we have a bigger problem,"  he
showed the readings to Dax over the table, "I'm picking up a bacterial agent I can't identify." He
pointed the bottom of the tricorder toward the casing to indicate that it was also the source of the
new reading. "Still extremely small concentration, but I don't know how much would be
dangerous." 
He glanced back at the skeletons laying around, the tiny bits of uniform scattered among the
bones. 
"There's not much here to judge its effect on."
          The titanium casing sat there on the table between them. Dax heaved a sigh. "We've got to
get
this thing open so we can disarm it." 



          Kira began to wonder how many hours a week she actually spent on a comm line.  Dukat's
words ate at her.  How did the bomb get there?  Unfortunately, Resistance cells rarely kept
written
records of their missions.  Memories flooded her brain as she was forced to remember names
and
faces
she had long since forgotten.  Which cell would have had access to those lower levels, where the
Obsidian Order had worked?  Certainly not the Shakaar cell, her own.  She would have
volunteered
herself for such a mission if Shakaar had asked her.  But Shakaar himself might be able to help. 
Kira
tried to plan what she would say to him.  She couldn't tell him about the Noc Tel.  Word might
spread and panic would ensue on Bajor.  Forcing herself to appear casual, she placed the call to
the
First Minister. 
     "Nerys!"  Shakaar beamed.  "What can I do for you?"
     "I'm working on a book about the Occupation," she lied. "I'd like to contact as many
Resistance cells as I can, especially any that had access to DS9.  I thought you could help me
track
down some names."
     "A book?"  Shakaar was already suspicious, but seemed willing to play along.  "I see.  How
long do you think it will take to finish this book?"
     Don't you mean, how soon can I get the truth? she thought.  "Not much longer, I would hope. 
It depends on a lot of things right now."
     Shakaar was thinking.  "Let's see. Cells that had access to DS9 . . . other than our own, I
would assume.  There weren't very many.  Most of the cell leaders that I knew preferred to stay
planetside and protect their friends' homes.  But a few had the guts to attack the stronghold on
Terok
Nor.  Placa Hart's cell was one."  He stopped to concentrate.  "And GormTryla, I believe.  And
Bor
Yazel."
     Kira hoped she hid her surprise.  She knew that she might be able to call the other two, but
with Bor dead, she'd have no way to get to his members.  "Do you have lists of their operatives?"
     "Nerys, you know I'm not even supposed to know the cell leaders.  What is this really about?" 
     "I'm sorry, Shakaar," Kira said.  "I can't tell you that."  She felt herself losing control, and
signed off quickly.  
     She took a few minutes to compose herself, while she considered what to do next.  Maybe
trying to get through the closed network of the Resistance cells wasn't the way to do this.  There
were
records of Bajoran individuals who lived on the station for years, who would know the layout
and
design, who may have seen or heard something.   Instead of looking for almost non-existant
records
of transient cell members, perhaps a civilian would be more forthcoming.  Collecting herself,
she
opened the occupancy files for the habitat ring.  There were hundreds of names, but it narrowed
down as she eliminated known deceased, and those that were not on the station during the right
time
period, and those far too young to remember it.  But she still had a hundred and thirty five
names. 
Next, she cross-matched the names with the Noc Tel's crew manifest and eliminated another
twenty
one names.  She couldn't think of any other criteria that wouldn't be arbitrary or fool-proof, so
she
scanned the list again and was able to pick out a few who she'd known personally who weren't
likely
to have any information.  Then she set the comm unit to randomize the list, and she began
placing
calls.
     The first name that came up was Erin Proh.   "I'm Major Kira Nerys, aboard the DS9 station. 
I'm researching a book about the Occupation and I was hoping I could ask you a few questions."  
Soon, that opening sentence would become repetitious enough to drive Kira slowly mad.
     "What would you like to know?"  Erin Proh asked.  He was a middle aged Bajoran, who never
seemed to have recovered from the near starvation he must have suffered.  He was the thinnest
person Kira had ever seen.
     "While you were living on the station, did you see or hear anything unusual?  Anything
newsworthy?"
     Erin Proh shook his head.  "I don't think so.  That was a long time ago." He grew sad. "I'd
rather forget about the whole thing."  He broke the connection.  
     Kira had been afraid of this.  People didn't usually want to discuss sad memories and that's
the
only kind that came out of an Occupation.   But she continued.  The next call wasn't home, so
she left
a brief message.  And the following two could not be traced for some reason.  A recent move,
perhaps.  Then there were four others like the first, who declined to discuss the past.   And the
next
two resulted in sad, but unrelated stories of Cardassian atrocities.   She left another message on
the
next one, sighed, and continued.
     "I'm Major Kira Nerys, on DS9.  I'm researching a book about the Occupation and I was
hoping I could ask you a few questions."  She connected with Clellon Modya, a woman in her
mid
thirties.  Kira could see three school-age children in the background.  One, the oldest, was at a
computer terminal, and the other two were watching a juvenile holodrama.
     "Go ahead."  
     "Mrs. Clellon --" Kira began.
     "You can call me Modya.  I take it I'm about to bare my soul to you, we might as well be on a
first name basis," she said personably as she turned her monitor to face a privacy alcove.  "I was
born
on Bajor, but my parents moved to Terok Nor when I was three."
     "Can you tell me about your time on Terok Nor?"  Kira told her the time period she was
interested in.
     Modya took a deep breath, "Yes.  I lost something there, on the lower levels."  She paused.
"My virginity."
          "I'm sorry,"  Kira told the woman..  She wasn't sure this was relevant, but she couldn't just
cut
the woman off.  "What happened?"  What a stupid question, Kira thought.  A Cardassian raped
her,
of course.
          "I hate the Obsidian Order," Modya declared. She lowered her eyes and didn't raise them
as
she
allowed the memory to pass through her brain and out her lips, "I was sixteen, working in the
refinery
on Terok Nor.  One day, a Cardassian took me to the lower levels.  He said he had a job for me. 
At
the time, I thought he was a soldier like all the others.  I found out later that he was in the Order. 
He
took me into this laboratory, and I saw another Bajoran, a man about twenty-five years old,
inside a
metal box.  He looked very healthy, oddly enough, well-fed.  The Cardassian made me sit in a
chair
so I could see the box.  He strapped me to the chair." She paused for a beat. "Even my head was
strapped, so that I had to look at the box.  I couldn't turn away. There were several other
Cardassians
there, too, male and female, working dials and taking readings of some kind, but in another
room,
watching through a large window off to one side. He nodded at one of them, and they began
pushing
buttons. He hurried to join
them in the room.  It took a bit of time, maybe half an hour before it started."  Her monologue
ceased, and she seemed to be far away.      
     "Go on," Kira prompted after a moment. "What happened to the man in the box?"
          Modya took a quivering breath.  Even after all these years, it was hard to think about it.
"He .
. .
he started screaming.  It was muffled; I could barely hear it, but he was screaming at the top of
his
lungs.  His skin started to  . . .  break apart  . . .  and peel away.  He . . . melted, right there in
front of
me.  The walls became smeared with his blood.  I tried to run away, but the straps held me there.
I
started screaming, too, tried to cover my eyes, but I couldn't. Through a comm unit, the
Cardassians
said they'd kill me if I didn't watch."  She stopped again with a shuddering breath, and bit her
lower
lip.
          "I don't know how long it took.  It seemed to take years.  And it kept going even after he
died. 
Until there were just white bones, huddled in the corner of the box."  She looked up, finally, at
Kira,
"Then the Cardassians celebrated.  The males took turns on me, while the females turned away. 
I
was sure they meant to kill me after what I'd seen.  What they did was worse. I don't think they
expected me to understand any of it.  I pretended not to.  I pretended to be catatonic for the next
day,
until after they let me go."
          "The man in the box, did you ever find out how it was done?" Kira asked, her voice
respectfully quiet.
          The woman grew smug.  "A bomb.  I'd been their 'lab rat'.  My survival meant the box had
contained the chemical reaction. They wouldn't risk one of their own, and the rest of the lab
animals
were already dead. After they let me back in the refinery, days later, I started leaving my ears
open,
so to speak, and I learned that they had invented a chemical bomb.  I told Bor about it--"
          "Bor?  Bor Yazel?"
          "Yes.  You know him?"
          Kira hesitated.  "I know of him," she specified.
          "I see.  Well, I knew Bor was in the Resistance.  He said he'd get back at them for me." 
The
horror of it all was making her very depressed now, and Kira was almost sorry she had called.
"Bor
told me later that he'd arranged for someone to steal the bomb -- there was only the prototype."
She
shrugged, "They probably built another one," she amended, "but I wish I'd seen their faces when
they
found their prize gone."  She smiled a little, "I'm sure the Resistance put the bomb to good use. 
He
didn't tell me what they did with it."
          "Do you know who stole it?"
          "No. Just that Bor arranged it."
          "Thank you,"  she told the woman, "you've been very helpful."  She signed off.  So that
was it. 
But if Bor had known it was on that ship, he never would have allowed the mission to go
forward. 
So that part of it must have been the cell member's idea. Now, how to find the names in Bor's
Resistance cell?  
          She was trying to decide who to call next when O'Brien's voice brought her out of her
reverie.
"Ops to Sisko.  They're ready to attempt the microlaser."
          There was no aknowledgement from Sisko, but in another second she heard    "Wait!"  It
was
Garak, and he was shouting.  "Tell them not to open it!"
          Dax and Bashir heard the shout all the way on the Noc Tel, and Bashir stopped with his
finger on the trigger of the microlaser, poised threateningly close to the casing.  He pulled back
with a start.
          Garak came right up to Kira's comm station.  "If you open that casing, you'll be dead in
seconds, even in those suits."


          On the Noc Tel, Dax and Bashir exchanged nervous glances.  Talk about timing, Bashir
thought.  "Send me the whole file," he heard Dax request. While she was busy with that, Bashir
returned the microlaser to the small storage room where he had found it.  He stopped there to
take
some deep breaths, holding on to a shelf.  His heart was pounding, and he had to make a
conscious
effort to calm himself.  Panic wouldn't solve anything, but he was suddenly very aware of the
one
hundred fifty bodies in the ship.  The thought of how close they had come to joining them made
his
stomach turn.  He felt trapped, in this large metal box called a spaceship, as if he would never
see
anything else again.  Still holding on to the shelf for support, he glanced around the storage
room, not
even surprised to see bones on the floor in here, too. As he looked at it, a final ligament
apparently
dissolved and the backbone collapsed.  The skull dropped away from the neck.  Bashir
swallowed,
and stood straighter.  He wasn't going to die here.  He wouldn't let it happen.   


          Garak sent the decoded file over to the Noc Tel's computer so that Dax could examine it. 
As
she scanned it on a sickbay monitor, he explained what parts he'd understood.  "Inside is a crystal
that produces the toxin when exposed to air.  There are also layers of chemicals inside the crystal
that, in combination, produce an atmosphere for the toxin to thrive in.  The casing is especially
designed to keep airflow to a minimum.  The vacuum the captain induced killed the existing
toxin,
but the chemicals in the crystal were manufactured to produce a replacement atmosphere after a
time.  Over and over again."
          Sisko, standing behind Garak, simplified it. "A time bomb."
          "Yes," Garak agreed, turning toward Sisko, "a very sophisticated time bomb.  The casing
necessary to contain the chemical reactions also shields it from internal scans.  If it weren't for
the vacuum, and the sudden appearance of more atmosphere, it wouldn't have been detected at
all. 
The time lapse is also useful.  It allows it to be safely retrieved and replanted, if done quickly
enough."
          "So there's no way to stop it?" Bashir asked from the Noc Tel.  Behind him, Dax had
stopped
reading the text.  She'd gone and picked up a scrap of uniform and was scanning it.  "We have to
beam back, and destroy this ship?"
          "It would appear -- " Sisko started.
          "We can't beam back," Dax said.  Immediately, all eyes were on her.  She looked up from
her
tricorder, with which she'd been scanning her own enviro-suit.  She quickly scanned Bashir's as
well.  "Our suits are contaminated."  She put down the tricorder on the edge of the table, and
began
working at a console, "I'm going to try reestablishing the vacuum, but it's probably going to take
too
long. You'll have to destroy this ship, Benjamin.  With us on it."  She had thought that the suits
would
protect them against whatever had destroyed the crew's uniforms.  It wasn't a simple bacteria,
however.  It was an accelerant.  It speeded up the process of decomposition, and even enviro
suits
didn't last forever.  It would take apart each layer of the suit on the atomic level, much like the
transporter, but slower, and without the control and record-keeping that would allow
rematerialization.  
          "How long before it penetrates?"  Was he going to have to admonish Dax for jumping to
conclusions as well?  There had to be a way to get them back safely. He wasn't about to blow up
two friends, even at the last possible minute.  If they did start to show symptoms, he knew Bashir
would handle it professionally, and after that there would be plenty of time to dispose of the
ship. 
Until
then, he would keep trying. There had to be something.
          After some quick calculations, Dax replied thickly, "I estimate ten minutes, maybe fifteen,
before our skin is exposed to the toxin."
     

          On the Noc Tel, Bashir sat weakly in a chair.  Dax had re-established the vacuum, just like
Bor
Yazel had done, but by the time the atmosphere was completely removed from the room, they
would
have been exposed, their suits compromised.  He wondered if the vacuum or the bacteria would
be
responsible for their deaths.  He jumped up suddenly, "We have to get away from the
atmosphere. 
Now."  He ran out of sick bay and headed for the lift, knowing that Dax was following close
behind.   
     "Computer, reestablish quarantine of sickbay.  Authorization Bashir, Julian gamma alpha
three."  For a moment, he was worried that the computer wouldn't comply because he was not
the
surgeon listed in the manifest, but a series of beeps told him the authorization had been
accepted. 
That must mean that Kira had already established a computer link, anticipating an order Sisko
was
sure to give.
          In the turbolift, Julian realized his air was getting thin.  It was getting hard for him to
breathe. 
"Bridge," Dax told the lift, then asked, "You all right?" She leaned against a wall near Bashir,
concern
furrowing her brow. It was starting to get a little stuffy in her suit, but there was no point in
calling for more air tanks at the moment.  
          "Sure,"  he replied, a bit too casually.  "Just short of breath."
          Dax smiled.  Nothing like a positive attitude.
          Bashir tried to smile back, but something about her suit caught his eye. He straightened,
"Dax," he said simply, pointing to the shoulder she was leaning on.
          Dax shifted her weight, and turned her head to that awkward angle needed to see her own
shoulder, made even more difficult by the bulky helmet.  But she saw them.  There was a spider
web of cracks on the outer layer of the suit, just like the cracks that had appeared on Bor Yazel's
face. 
Her voice was nearly a whisper when she said, "Turn around."
          Bashir did as he was told, knowing he wasn't going to like what he heard.
          "Your back."  She again pulled up the tricorder. "The outer surface of the suits is giving
way. 
Try not to brush against anything." She let the tricorder fall to her side again, and, as if to
illustrate
her
point, visible pieces of her suit flaked off where the tricorder hit it and fell to the floor, revealing
the
first paper-thin layer of gallasite shielding. But she already knew that the gallasite was no more
than
a temporary inconvenience to these bacteria.
          Bashir both wished he could and was glad he couldn't see his back. 

 
     "I need another solution, and I need it now."
          No one volunteered immediately.  So Sisko looked around the room and selected someone
at
random, "Worf?"
          "I can only recommend destroying the ship now, to spare them the same death the Bajoran
crew suffered."  He didn't say it, but he supposed it was a good day to die.  It was becoming an
increasingly popular activity.
          "Rejected,"  Sisko replied angrily. "Kira." 
          Kira took a deep breath and let it out, shaking her head.  She had no solution to give.
          "O'Brien?" Even as he asked, Sisko saw O'Brien's wheels turning.  "Chief?"
          O'Brien was already jumping from Kira's monitoring station over to the main transporter
console. "I'm not sure it would work, Sir, but I think I could beam them back without the suits." 
It sounded like a simple task, but it would be a tricky task to separate suit from human.  There
was
more to it than just screening out biological components, especially now that the suits were
contaminated.  They also contained small pockets of biomemedic gel to power the air tanks.
          "In time?"  
          Without another word, O'Brien bounced from console to console, making adjustments to
the
transporter controls. "They're moving, trying to get away from the atmosphere in sickbay."  He
shook his head, "I can't do this with moving targets."
          Sisko went to the comm station that O'Brien had vacated. "Dax, we have an idea."  He
described what they were going to attempt.  "It could be a rocky transport, but we need you to
stay put."  
          "Aye, sir." There was a pause while she halted the lift and they stepped off.  "We'll wait
here,
on Deck Two."  She scanned their suits with the tricorder again. "The bacterial infection is
reduced,
but still active, probably thriving on trapped air pockets in the suits."
          Sisko turned to Kira. "Kira, as soon as transport is complete, patch into the Noc Tel
computer
and take it out to one hundred thousand kilometers. Worf, target the engine core with photon
torpedoes. Fire on my mark."
          A chorus of "Aye, sirs" echoed back at him.
          "I'm ready, sir," O'Brien said.
          "Energize."


          Dax and Bashir waited nervously to feel the transporter take them.  They didn't dare count
the
seconds, knowing it would just stretch the seeming eon of time into an eternity.  Quietly, Bashir
took a step closer and put his gloved hand in hers. No, he told himself, don't count heartbeats
either.
Just wait.  He felt the tickle in his stomach and hoped it wasn't just the first symptom of the
infection. 

          O'Brien seemed to make more adjustments even in mid transport, as materialization began
and then aborted. "Damn," he swore. "Sorry, Captain," he apologized without even looking up,
"Forgot to screen out the air tanks." He began again, the responsibility weighing heavy on him. 
He could accidentally infect the whole station with that thing if he wasn't very, very careful. 
With a
few more adjustments to the confinement beam, he felt better about it, mentally crossed his
fingers,
and finalized the transport. 
     On the Noc Tel, two enviro-suits stood upright for a second, before falling into heaps. 
          "Go, Kira!" Sisko shouted when he saw the transport stabilizing.
          Kira had already linked the computer and sent the command for its new location.  The
ship
seemed to shrink on screen. "Fifty thousand kilometers," Kira counted. "Sixty thousand
kilometers. 
Seventy-five.  One hundred thousand kilometers and holding."
          "Fire!"
          Two torpedoes shot from the station and collided with the Noc Tel.  It arched back as if in
pain, explosions erupting across its surface. "The Noc Tel is completely destroyed," reported
Worf. 
"No significant debris."
          It was only then that those at Ops noticed that Dax and Bashir were totally naked.  They
both
glared angrily at O'Brien, who shrugged and said, "Better safe than sorry . . . " before beaming
them
to their respective quarters.



          "You're sure you wouldn't rather have spaghetti?"  Garak asked Bashir, as they each took a
seat at Quark's bar.
          "Definitely,"  Bashir replied, waving Quark over.
          Quark stepped over. "What can I get you gentlemen?" 
          "I believe I'll have some kanar," Garak said.
          "And you, Doctor?"  Quark could see that Bashir was slightly preoccupied.
          Bashir seemed to be fascinated with his reflection in the countertop. "Aldebaran Brandy."
Quark disappeared to get the drinks.  "Garak, I just don't understand why anyone would try to
invent
such a weapon.  Isn't shooting people enough?"  He'd feel better if it had turned out to be a
natural
disease, no matter how rare.  But to know it had been specially constructed he found disturbing.
          Garak sighed in agreement, "It was the Obsidian Order.  They reward creativity."  Bashir
was
about to voice an opinion on that, but Garak stopped him. "Doctor, we weren't all barbarians, I'll
have
you know.  I find this as disturbing as you do.  But I understand it a bit differently.    Like any
group,
the Obsidian Order had its extremists, its fringe element.  Unfortunately, they were the ones
giving
the orders."
          "The thing that really worries me, Garak," said Bashir as he accepted his drink from
Quark,
"is that it was going on right under Dukat's nose and he didn't know it."
          "The Order is very good at hiding," said Garak, ignoring his glass of kanar.
          "But it's not just them.  Who knows what else could be going on? Somewhere on this
station,
or on Bajor, or even on Cardassia, someone could be plotting or inventing something even
worse."
He took a larger than necessary drink, and didn't hide the discomfort very well, "And I will never
understand anyone's need to harm another.  I became a doctor to heal the sick and injured, but I
was
thinking more along the lines of accidents and sudden illnesses.  This propensity every race of
beings
has for harming each other is . . . well . . . " His words had been gaining momentum, but they
dropped off.  It was the same old song.  There was no use repeating it.  "I will never understand
it,
that's all."
          Garak finally took a drink of his kanar.  He understood that his friend was going to need
some
time.  He got off of his stool and placed a hand on Bashir's shoulder.  "Remember what I said
about
fate playing strange tricks.  In time, even this will make sense."
     
     
          Sisko reflected on the fate of the Noc Tel in his quarters.  Jake was off somewhere,
watching
Dabo girls, he suspected, but Sisko was glad for the privacy.  He sipped his drink and looked out
the
window at the stars, wondering how to word the report to Kai Winn.  He still didn't have an
answer
for how the bomb had gotten there in the first place.  He didn't even know where to begin with
that
question.  His door chimed.  "Come," he said.
          It was Kira.  She entered, looking around.
          "Jake's not here. I'm alone, Major." He motioned her to help herself to a drink and a seat.
She
took only the latter.  "What brings you here?"
          She handed him a data clip. "Here's my report.  I think I've traced the origin of the bomb."
          Sisko sat up straight. "And?"
          "It was us."
          "Us?"
          She took a deep breath.  "It was planted there by a member of the Resistance in order to
kill
Dukat more than twenty years ago.  Ironically, it was a member of Bor's cell who'd been assigned
to
steal the bomb, and unilaterally hid it on the Noc Tel.  He was killed for trespassing at the time,
but
they didn't find the bomb."
          "It never activated, in all that time?"
          She swallowed the growing lump in her throat.  "It was held in a special force field with
its
own
shielded power supply that was disrupted when they went through the wormhole.  The man who
planted it didn't know about the force field."
          "I see."  So, for fifteen years, the Cardassians had traveled with it right under their noses.  
          "Sir . . . you were right." She fought back her guilty tears.  "When this first started, I
thought
for sure it was the Cardassians who were at fault.  I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."
          "But you were also right, Major.  They constructed the bomb.  They went out of their way
to
construct this bomb."  Sisko downed the last of his drink, "So you jumped to a conclusion.  But it
didn't stop you from getting to the truth." He shook the data clip.
          "I wonder what Kai Winn will do.  The Council will never authorize another mission. 
Like
Bor Yazel said, it looks like the will of the Prophets."  She rubbed her neck tiredly. "Bajor will
never
be
independent."
          Sisko licked his lips, considering his words. "You're jumping to conclusions again."   Kira
didn’t reply, but Sisko noticed her staring at the data clip.  “Major?” he asked.
          “Hmmm?” she asked absent-mindedly, then, “Oh, I was just thinking about all the
answers
that aren’t on that data clip.  Answers we’ll never find now.   Did the Resistance fighter have
any
idea what kind of bomb he was planting?  Did Bor, even as he died, suspect the truth?  And even
worse, was Darel B’Cor the only one who had all that information?”
          She looked Sisko in the eyes, “Can it happen again?”

THE END