Title: Split Personality
Author: Paula Stiles (thesnowleopard@hotmail.com)
Series:DS9
Part: REV 1/8
Rating [PG-13]
Codes: Some J/J


Summary: This is a sequel to the episode, "The Passenger." A Kobliad scientist arrives
on DS9 with a biological weapon and a plan to raise master criminal Rao Vantika from
the dead. Now, the DS9 crew must decide who is more dangerous--the scientist or Dr.
Bashir. Occurs during the sixth season, shortly before "Inquisition."

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all of the Star Trek characters, including Bashir and
Kukalaka. The story, Filar 6, and Sivan Malinka are mine--as if anybody would want
them.

Archive: Yep. This revised version should replace the original.

Warning: No sex (sorry) but the story does include some violence, bad language,
twisted nightmares, genocidal tendencies, monomania and Multiple Personality
Disorder. I wouldn't recommend this for kids, unless your kids have started watching,
say, Aliens.

Note Constructive criticism (and, of course, praise), is always appreciated. Please be
specific. "It sucks" doesn't help me much.

Thanks to Gabrielle Lawson and Victoria Meredith for betareading this story for me.

Originally posted 5/18/1988




				SPLIT PERSONALITY


Prologue

     The orderlies wheeled the little boy into the small, gray room. The child stared
around him with wide eyes. He clutched his teddy bear to his chest as he tried to take
in as much of his surroundings--and the fascinating aliens who inhabited them--as
possible. The orderlies did not speak to him. They had learned that it was wise not to
get to know the test subjects.

     The doctor, a stocky, dark-haired man, came in. He was middle-aged, distracted, a
little cold. He wore a dull, gray suit, and black gloves. A ridge of bare flesh divided his
hair from front to back. The child smiled up at the doctor; he was young for his age, and
very trusting.

     The doctor seemed to see his medical duties with the child as a distasteful, but
necessary chore. He told the boy to lie down on the table. He was soft-spoken but the
child sensed a chill behind the voice. Like a baby antelope hiding in the tall grass to
escape a lion, he lay down prone on the table and turned his face away from the
doctor. He wished his parents had not gone away.

     The doctor noticed the child's fear but did not really care. He turned his back on the
boy while he set out his instruments, in silence, on a metal tray.  When he turned
around he picked up a needle from the tray and began to tell his patient, in a quiet,
reasonable voice, what-exactly-he was planning to do to him.

     Bashir woke up screaming for the second time that week.






Chapter One

     Dax was annoyed. Ops had been busy all week and she felt guilty about taking an
entire hour for lunch.  So, when Julian had said he needed to talk to her, she'd put it
off  for two days. She had expected him to come looking for her again, but when he
hadn't she became worried and called him. He'd sounded odd, which had convinced
her to agree to lunch today, rather than tomorrow. Now, it was 15 minutes past the
hour--and no Julian. She asked the computer to locate him. It said that he was in the
Infirmary, but he didn't respond to her hails. She stood up to leave.

     Bashir came in as she was going out. Dax was astonished when he walked right
past her to the bar and ordered a synthale from Quark. She followed him to the bar
and sat down next to him. "Where have you been?" she demanded.

     He sipped his drink then set it down. "Jadzia. Hi."

     "What happened to lunch?" He stared at her blankly. "You know. Lunch? You said
you needed to see me so we arranged to spend lunch here, today? You were
supposed to show up 20 minutes ago."

     He sat motionless long enough for her to realize that he had absolutely no idea 
what she was talking about. "Oh, yes," he said, finally. "Lunch. I guess I forgot."

     Dax was flabbergasted. "You forgot?"

     Confusion clouded his face. Then, he looked wary. "Um, yes. It's been rather busy
in the Infirmary this week. I must have forgotten to put it on my calendar." 

     As he talked, his gaze wandered over the crowd in Quark's. Then he seemed to see
something which made him freeze. Dax followed his gaze to a graying old man with a
bony ridge dividing his hair, front to back, who sat staring back at them from a table
near the Dabo wheel. The man was playing with his lightpen. He seemed quite
fascinated by it. 

     "Isn't that man a Kobliad?" Dax asked.

    Bashir deliberately turned his back on the man, and stared down at the table. In a
very neutral voice, he said, "I suppose he could be. Yes."

     "It's been a few years since I've seen a Kobliad here on the Station," Dax
reminisced. "Not since that trouble with Ty Kajada and Rao Vant--Oh...sorry," she
backtracked, as Bashir turned pale. "I'm sorry, Julian. I forgot. You must still feel pretty
embarrassed about being possessed by Vantika. It wasn't your fault, you know."

     "I know, Jadzia," Bashir said, in a strained voice. "Really."

    "I mean, once he got his own glial cells under your skin, he could have taken over
pretty much any time he wanted--"

     "Dax," Bashir interrupted her through clenched teeth. "Could we talk about
something else? Please?"

     "Uh, sure," she replied, nonplused. Did Julian know the man from somewhere?
Surreptitiously, she looked over Bashir's shoulder in the elderly Kobliad's direction.
Odd. The man had disappeared.

     Quark came by, looking annoyed. "Are you two going to use the table you ordered
or what? I can't bring my business to a screeching halt just for you."

     Bashir whipped around, quick as a snake, and snarled, "Do you mind?" Quark,
alarmed, cringed and slunk away.
 
     "Meddling little fool. He never gets anything right," muttered Bashir, turning his
attention back to his mysterious admirer at the table. He started when he saw that the
man had vanished.

     Dax gaped at him. "What was *that* for?"

     Bashir looked confused again. "What?" he said distractedly.
 
     "What do you mean, 'what'? You just jerked Quark back so hard, he gagged."

     Bashir shrugged, but now he looked a little frightened. "He just gets on my nerves,
sometimes, that's all." He drained his glass in one swig, then set it down with a 
determined smack. "Look, I have to go. I'll make it up to you, tomorrow. Same time,
right?"

     Dax opened her mouth to protest, but Bashir was already sliding off his stool and
striding off through the crowd.

     "I can't believe he just did that," she said to Quark.

     Quark shrugged. "Everybody insults me. I'm used to it."

     "Quark, that wasn't like Julian at all."

     "What wasn't like Julian?" Dax and Quark turned to see O'Brien walking into the bar
with his toolkit. Quark hurried over to him.

     "Well, it's about time, Chief," he snapped irritably. "I called you over an hour ago
to come down here and fix my drink replicator."

     O'Brien directed a withering look at Quark, who, alas, did not wither. "Put a sock in
it, Quark," he said. "This is my lunch hour, and when I'm done, you're going to owe me
lunch--*and* a nice, big synthale."

     Quark glared at O'Brien, then sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Just fix the
replicator, already."  He stalked off, shouting at one his hapless employees.

     O'Brien shrugged. "Well, that was easy." He went behind the bar and began
disassembling Quark's replicator. "So, *what* wasn't like Julian?"

     "He snapped at Quark," Dax said. "He really laid into him."

     O'Brien snorted. "You're right. That sounds like me, not Julian."

     "I'm serious, Chief. He was really hostile. He scared Quark."

     O'Brien looked skeptical. "With all due respect, Commander, baby voles scare
Quark." He stood up and punched buttons on the replicator. The replicator squealed. 

     "Ugh," O'Brien said. "Look, Commander, Julian's probably just tired. Ever since this
war started, business has been booming in the Infirmary. Give him a break."

     "Just tired," Dax repeated. "Of course. That's all it is." But she didn't believe it.




     "Now, Doctor. Call up a weapon and attack me."

     Commander Worf made a fancy twirl with his bat'leth before bringing it gracefully 
back to his side. The holodeck environment he'd called up had a depressing, rocky,
red decor and was confusingly dim. 

     Normally, Bashir might have enjoyed a chance to give Worf a taste of his own
bloodwine, but he still had a migraine from the night before-which had been
particularly nightmare-ridden. Worf couldn't have picked a worse time to help Bashir
freshen up his combat skills if he'd cornered the Human during a Borg attack. 

     Bashir watched Worf's bat'leth play with no enthusiasm. "Commander, is this really
necessary?"

     "Doctor, you have been avoiding this ever since I came to the station. Please pick a
weapon."

     *And you've been looking to test yourself against me ever since you heard I was
genetically enhanced,* Bashir thought. He sighed and called another bat'leth out of
the air.

     "You are satisfied with the weapon?" Worf asked. He was nothing, if not scrupulous.

     Bashir shrugged. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" *I might as well get this over with
and just let him stomp me. He likes being a hard man. It ought to make his day.*

     "Shouldn't we engage the safety mechanisms?" he asked, guessing that this was
one of Worf's legendary, no holds barred, personal programs.

     "That will not be necessary. I am skilled enough to avoid injuring you...begin."
Without any more warning, Worf attacked Bashir. The Human barely got his bat'leth up
in time. He parried another blow, then backed off. So did Worf and they began to circle
each other. Then, Worf closed again and there was another flurry of blows. Worf was
much more skillful, of course, but Bashir was faster--just enough to stay out of the
Commander's way.

     Ten minutes later, Bashir was still holding his ground. Worf looked annoyed, which
didn't surprise the doctor. Bashir suspected that the Klingon had thought he could
use his superior skill and strength to overcome any advantages an enhanced Human
might have. Also, Bashir knew that Worf had never really forgiven him for joking
about the Commander smelling like lilac--or for pummeling him at his wedding to Dax
(even if it was a ritual). Still, his head was throbbing now, and his patience--normally 
so enduring--had evaporated.

     "Commander--" he began.

     "Defend yourself, Doctor, or I shall force you to do so." Worf closed in again. Bashir
parried and backed off. Worf followed.

     "Worf, let's take a break..."
 
     "Defend yourself!" Worf shouted.

     "No!" Bashir parried Worf's thrust with such force that his bat'leth cracked against
Worf's. He parried again, then brought an over-head swing down on Worf, striking
sparks on the Klingon's blade.
 
     Worf looked startled but pleased. This was probably what he had been hoping for.
Bashir attacked Worf again, this time driving the Klingon back. He did it again. Worf
gave more ground, and more. Now, he looked less pleased. Obviously, he had
underestimated the Human's stamina, strength and--especially--speed.  Abruptly, he
executed a complex maneuver that Bashir wasn't quite able to anticipate and knocked
the Human's feet out from under him.
 
     Worf lunged forward to give the simulated coup de grace, but Bashir tripped him.
Worf staggered and fell. Quick as a cobra, Bashir rolled to his feet and brought his
bat'leth down on Worf's head.

     At the last second, he heard a calm, rational voice whisper: *The safeties are off.*
He was barely able to turn the bat'leth in time. It slammed down so hard and so near to
Worf's face that the point buried itself in the holodeck's floor after leaving a line of
purple across Worf's left cheekbone.
 
     Worf flinched, but remained calm. "Good match," he said.

     Bashir stood up and stared down at Worf, breathing hard. He saw the blood trickling
off the Klingon's face and finally realized how close he had come to killing his superior
officer. He began to tremble.

     Worf sat up, eyeing the Human as if he had just discovered that Bashir's stuffed
bear Kukalaka was a grizzly.  "Another match," he said. "This time with a different
weapon."

     Bashir backed away, still shaking. Worf froze. "Perhaps...another time," he said
cautiously. Bashir backed up to the door of the holodeck. As it slid open for him, he
turned and fled out into Quark's bar.

     "Ah, Doctor," General Martok called out from the Dabo table as Bashir hurried down
the staircase from the holodeck level. "I've been looking for you."

     "Not now, General," Bashir said, trying to brush past the Klingon Empire's liaison.
Martok grabbed his arm.

     "Come," he cajoled. "Sit down and share a cup of bloodwine with me."

     Bashir tried to pull away, starting to feel lightheaded the way he had on the
holodeck with Worf. Martok held on. As Bashir turned on him, he said quietly, "You've
been dreaming about Internment Camp 371, haven't you?"

     Bashir stared at him, not sure what to tell Martok. "Come," Martok said gently. "Have
a drink with me."




     The nice thing about Martok was that he didn't ask a lot of uncomfortable questions.
It seemed enough for him that he and Bashir had been prisoners of the Dominion
together. He knew what being in an isolation cell was like, and he knew that Bashir
had spent too much of his month as a POW in one.
 
     Bashir disliked bloodwine but it was pleasant sitting with someone who
sympathized without demanding the gory details. Besides, he really needed a drink.
Very soon, he was plastered. Shortly before midnight he saw the man he had spotted
during his lunch with Dax. The elderly Kobliad was passing by on the Promenade. He
peered in through  the doorway and stared at Bashir. Snapping alert, Bashir knocked
over his chair getting up.

     "Where are you going, Doctor?" Martok called after him. Bashir ignored him, rushing
out onto the Promenade. He looked wildly up and down, saw no one. He staggered
down past Odo's office, then back up toward the Bajoran Temple. Still no one.
 
     Martok stumbled out of Quark's after Bashir. He came up to Bashir and clapped him
on the shoulder. "Doctor, what is wrong?"

     "I...I'm not sure," Bashir admitted. "I thought I saw someone I knew."

     Martok glanced up and down the Promenade. "I see no one. Come, let us go back
into Quark's and drink more of his disgusting, replicated bloodwine."

     Bashir was confused. Could one hallucinate on bloodwine? Still, he let Martok steer
back to the bar, where they both began drinking again in earnest.

     At closing time, Quark kicked them both out. Bashir and Martok were so drunk that
they had to support either other back to Bashir's quarters. Martok fell asleep on
Bashir's couch while Bashir passed out, fully clothed, on his own bed.

      He didn't  dream that night, but the hangover the next morning convinced him that
bloodwine made a bad nightmare antidote. Even Martok felt so sick that he accepted
Bashir's patented hangover cure. Bashir went to work sober-but exhausted.
 
     It wasn't until the end of the day that he realized that he had once again forgotten to
have lunch with Dax. He asked the computer to locate her. She was in her quarters--
with Worf, of course. They were married, after all, whether he wanted them to be, or
not.

     Bashir was in a thoroughly foul mood by the time he got out of the Infirmary. He was
distracted, therefore, when he returned to his quarters. He saw a shadow lunge at him
out of the corner of his eye as he came through the door. He was fast enough to get in
a blow to his attacker's head that made the man yelp but not enough to dodge the
hypospray that the man shoved against his shoulder. He heard the hiss of the hypo.
His legs folded almost immediately and he fell to the floor, unable to move.

     For one panicked moment, Bashir thought there had been poison in the hypo. Then,
an unnatural calm settled over him as the drug took hold. His attacker grabbed him
and dragged him over to the couch.
 
     The man propped Bashir up as best he could. He was wearing gloves. He crouched
down until he was face to face with Bashir and said, "Don't worry, Rao. It'll wear off
soon enough. After I'm done. You should be able to talk in a moment. "

     Bashir squinted at the man. His attacker was humanoid, with white hair and a
hairless ridge of bone front to back. The man wore faded a gray suit and a long,
shabby black coat. Bashir knew he'd seen him before, but couldn't remember anything
else about him. The man took out a small, metal device that looked like a lightpen,
adjusted it, and held it up before Bashir's eyes. A faint, rising whine came from it, as
though it were charging up. Bashir groaned in pain. Then his attacker's face snapped
into focus in his memory.

     Bashir said slowly, "M...Malinka?"

     The man's smile was ghastly. "I knew I could bring you back, Vantika."

     The room tilted slowly to the left. Bashir felt disoriented, as though he weren't quite
attached to his body anymore. The man was Kobliad, he could remember that, now.
Someone, he-*no, not me, Vantika,* Bashir insisted to himself-had worked with. It had
had something to do with one of Vantika's experiments-some kind of genetically
engineered virus. *A freak, like me,* Bashir thought. It had no name, just a number....

     "Sissteen sev'n," Bashir slurred.

     Malinka giggled (*This bloke is barking mad,* Bashir thought). "I knew you'd
remember," the Kobliad warbled. He slipped a small vial out of his coat pocket and
waved it in front of Bashir's face. Bashir's nose and lips began to feel numb. "I've
finally perfected it, Rao," Malinka sang. "16-7, the fastest acting pneumonic virus in the
galaxy. There is enough in this sample to eradicate any urban population under fifty
million inside of year. Thousands in a month. Even the Dominion would be
impressed."

     He stood up and paced around the room. "Just think of the power we have in this
little vial. We could bring any government to its knees with it." The vial disappeared
back into Malinka's coat pocket. He leaned close to Bashir. His breath smelled like
tube grubs. Bashir gagged. "I couldn't have done it without you, Rao. And I'm willing to
share it with you, if you'll just do one tiny little thing for me."

     Malinka reached out and stroked Bashir's cheek. "Tell me the secret: However can I
get a wonderful body like yours?"

     Bashir stared at him. *Now I really am going to be sick,* he thought.

     "Oh, don't worry," Malinka continued hurriedly. "I don't expect an improved body like
yours. I know that you got lucky. But there are other perfectly serviceable candidates
all around us and, well, I am getting on in years. I'm in a bit of a rush." He leaned
closer. "So, tell me. How did you do it?"

     Bashir struggled to speak. It was very difficult. Malinka leaned forward until they
were face to face. The reek of tube grubs enveloped Bashir.

     "Ge'...off...me," Bashir whispered.
 
     For a moment, Malinka froze. Then, he broke out into nervous laughter, the way one
does when one is trying to cover up shock or embarrassment. He stood up, and Bashir
sucked in clean air.

     Malinka looked down at Bashir. "I understand, Rao. You need time to think. When
you reconsider, come find me. I'm sure you'll remember how." He backed away and
left Bashir's quarters, singing to himself.
 
     Bashir tried to get up. He fell over instead. He tried to lift a hand to his commbadge,
but couldn't. Finally, he just lay there. Eventually, he drifted off.




     He was the little child on the table being cut. He was the pinched gray doctor in his
rumpled, gray suit wielding a small gray knife, telling his patient how he was improving
him as he hurt him. He was floating above the table, not wanting to watch, wishing he
could scream.

     Bashir woke wondering if the walls to his quarters were sound-proofed. At least, he
could move again. He asked the computer for the time. It was several hours after
Malinka's visit.

      Shouting to bring himself out of a nightmare had always worked before. He'd never
counted on waking up to something worse. Sweating, he got up off the couch, went
into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He was very careful not to turn on
the light or look in the mirror. He'd learned that the past few days.

     Coming out of the bathroom, Bashir went over to a bulkhead. He opened up a small
door in a false wall, that he wouldn't have known about a few weeks before. He stared
at the contents of the small locker inside, all of Vantika's little toys, and felt sick. He
shouldn't have remembered where to find them. Yet, two days ago, he had retrieved
them from the ventilation shaft where Vantika had hidden them, five years before.

     One hour, and three cups of Tarkalean tea, later, Bashir sat on his couch, wide
awake. He was still shaking. Part of it was the aftermath of Malinka's drug and part of it
was sheer terror. There was really no way left to avoid what he had to do. He knew
what the problem was. He just had absolutely no idea of how to solve it.
 
     "Computer," he said, in a calm, hopeless voice. "Give me all available information
on Rao Vantika and Sivan Malinka."

     The station computer, of course, did not have every file on Vantika and Malinka that
there ever was. Most of those could only be found on the Kobliad home world--
assuming anyone had bothered to keep them. There was little on Malinka, who had
never been unmasked in his activities. Apparently, he had managed to leave the 
planet without being discovered.
 
     There was more than enough, however, on Vantika to make any sentient being ill
even a physician who had treated half the species in the known galaxy, and a few from
the unknown parts as well. What frightened Bashir the most, however, was not the
gruesome facts, but the way they echoed oddly in his head, as if they stirred something
dark and sinister coiled in the back of his brain.

     He would have to tell someone about it, before it woke up. He wasn't sure where he
was going to find the guts to do it, but he had no real choice. Funny, to look for
courage, after all of the times he had faced death and worse, and not find it. It was an
uncomfortable feeling.






Chapter Two

     "Don't tell Captain Sisko," he said, before Dax could even sit down.
     They were in Quark's, the next day. He had commandeered one of Quark's "private"
tables on the second level and was waiting for Dax when she came in. She had been
annoyed when he'd called her on his commbadge, but also worried enough to agree--
for the third time--to meet him for lunch.
     Dax looked at him strangely. "Don't tell Benjamin what?"

     Bashir looked at his hands. "I...ah...haven't been sleeping well this past week."

     "Bad dreams?" Dax looked politely irritated. "You called me down here over some
bad dreams?"

     Bashir shrugged impatiently. "Remember Rao Vantika?

     Dax looked vaguely uneasy. "Yes, what about him?"

     "Do you think maybe when you did that impromptu lobotomy on me you didn't get
all of  him?"

     Dax sat up straight. "What are you talking about?"

     "I've been dreaming," Bashir took a sip of Tarkalean tea. "About Rao Vantika. One of
his...associates is on DS9. That old man we saw the other day." He went into detail.
The longer he talked, the more horrified Dax looked.

     "I know you don't want to tell Benjamin about this," she said, when he had finally run
down. "But this is not good. We need to take care of this right away before some
permanent harm happens to you." 




     "Sivan Malinka," Bashir said. "Was a scientist from Kobliad with a problem--he
needed subjects for a little experiment he had planned." He was addressing the rest of
the senior staff--Captain Sisko, Major Kira, Constable Odo, Chief O'Brien, and
Commanders Worf and Dax, in the Captain's wardroom. They were all staring at him.
None of them looked bored.

     "You see, I did a little research. As we all know from our little...adventure with Rao
Vantika, the Kobliad are a species in biological decline. They need duridium in order
to survive. The biggest industry for the Kobliads is finding ways to extend their
lifespans. Malinka thought he had come up with a way to do that, but he couldn't find
any support for it."

     "Why not?" Kira asked. "I would think they'd be thrilled to hear his ideas."

     Bashir sighed. "Yes. Well, that would be true--except that Malinka's plan involved
using massive amounts of duridium to restructure the Kobliad body from the cellular
level up. Malinka estimated that approximately 10% of the  population could attain pre-
decline lifespans--but only if the other 90% were completely deprived of the duridium
necessary to even continue existing. Naturally, his proposal was never seriously
considered. To do so would have caused a planet-wide revolution."

     "So," Kira said. "What did he do?"

     "Malinka was very upset. I'm not sure how stable he was in the first place, but his
mental health definitely began to deteriorate around this time. He decided that if the
population were reduced to 10% of its current levels, the research authorities would
accept his proposal. So, he turned his attention to finding a way to eliminate the other
90% of the Kobliad population. And, it appears that he's found it. He's called it 16-7--
study 16, sample 7. It's an air-borne pneumonic virus with 90-100% mortality. It
spreads very quickly and--to prevent any races from capitalizing on the epidemic's
confusion and invading Kobliad--he made it lethal for most of the major sentient
species in the galaxy, as well."

     Dax was expressionless--she had already heard most of this. Worf looked angry.
Sisko was grim. Kira and Odo appeared horrified, and O'Brien looked ill.

     "How does Vantika fit into this story?" Sisko asked.

     Bashir had been dreading this part. "Malinka needed test subjects--a lot of them.
Obviously, he couldn't ask his government, or recruit them openly. Somehow, he
heard through the grapevine about an obscure prison doctor who was conducting anti-
aging experiments on inmates. That doctor was Rao Vantika."

     "So, what is Malinka doing here?" Sisko insisted. "Vantika is dead."

     "Not according to Malinka," Bashir said slowly. "Vantika promised Malinka his
secrets on anti-aging in exchange for a piece of Malinka's action. Malinka apparently
has since found out that Vantika managed a successful synaptic displacement into my
brain--" Bashir tapped his head with his forefinger. "--and he thinks that Vantika is still
in here."

     "Is he?" Odo said, asking the question that they all had in mind.

     Bashir suddenly felt very tired--and afraid. "I'm not sure. I think Malinka's doing
something to me from a distance to try and bring Vantika back--to boost his synaptic
patterns, somehow. I've been having these nightmares--but they're more like
memories--about Vantika."

     "I don't understand," Sisko said. "Why does he want Vantika back so badly? Surely
he had some access to Vantika's work. He could piece it together better that way than
by trying to raise the dead."

     "I'm not sure how much is left," Bashir said. "Besides, I think he wants to hear it from
Vantika. That's his proof that it was successful. He's getting older and he doesn't think
he has enough time left to find the process on his own."

     "All right, people," Sisko said. "Let's discuss options."

      Bashir sat down next to O'Brien while the rest of the staff mulled over this new
information. He felt exhausted. The past week had drained him, what with all the
nightmares. It was almost as exhausting sitting there listening to his friends discuss his
sanity and identity. He let his head ease back onto the back of his chair (thank God the
Federation had decided to replace the wardroom's Cardassian torture machines with
its own furniture) and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt very sleepy. He wondered if
anybody would notice if he took a nap. As he thought about it, he drifted off...

     O'Brien first noticed the difference. The room temperature didn't actually change, of
course, but his gradual awareness of the sudden, absolute lack of normal Bashir
noises beside him gave him a chill. He looked at the person on his right, who stared
alertly back at him. It had Bashir's face and body, but O'Brien knew, with no doubt, that
this was not his best friend.

     The creature inside Bashir waited as the rest of the group slowly became aware of
its presence.

     "Hello, Sisko," it said, addressing the Captain first.

     "Let me guess," Sisko said warily. "Rao Vantika."

     Bashir's face twitched in what should have been a smile. "Very good, Sisko,"
Vantika said. "How nice to see that your Starfleet training wasn't quite wasted.
Perhaps now you'd like to essay an analysis of my interesting mental state, hmm?"

     Sisko wisely refused to be baited. "I assume that you had a reason for coming out
when you did, Vantika. Why don't you cut to the chase and tell us?"

     Vantika leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Why, Commander (oh,
it's Captain, now, isn't it?) I sense hostility. If I were dear little Julian, I'd be hurt."

     "But you're not," Sisko snarled.

     Vantika smiled coldly. "You're right. I'm not. Not Julian and not hurt."

     "What do you want, Vantika?" Dax said.

     "Oh, you still have your faithful Trill at your side, I see," Vantika said, turning a
venomous look on Dax. "How touching. Don't think I've forgotten what you did to me,
bitch."

     "Don't think I couldn't do it again, Vantika," Dax retorted with equal hatred.

     "Trust me. You won't get another chance," Vantika snapped.

     Beside Dax, Worf stiffened. "Coward!" he spat. "Do not threaten her or you will have
me to reckon with."

     Vantika regarded Worf with amused contempt. "Oh, look. It's Woof. Bark a little tune
for us, will you, Woofie?"

     "Enough," Sisko snapped. "What *do* you want, Vantika?"

     "What do I want?" Vantika laughed, then stopped suddenly, looking uncertain.
"What do I want? I want what I've always wanted. To live."


     Bashir was having a terrible dream, where someone was using his body like a
puppet. He struggled, gasping, and awoke with a start.

     They were all staring at him. "What?" he said. Then, he realized what had
happened. "Oh, no."




     He should have been grateful, he knew, that they had allowed him to stay in his
quarters under armed guard, rather than confining him to sickbay under restraints, but
he wasn't. He couldn't stop being angry. The parathorazine did not help. It only muted
Vantika's noise. Counselor Telnorri visited twice a day. That didn't help either. Bashir
respected Telnorri as a fellow colleague, but he had never been good at being on the
couch himself.

     Once, a Betazoid counselor had tried to block Bashir's initial entrance into Starfleet.
A gawky, and miserably awkward, adolescent at 18, Bashir had been blindsinded by
his accidental discovery of his illegal genetic status. When he had applied for entrance
into Starfleet three years later, he had been terrified of being discovered as a fraud.
The Betazoid counselor had sensed Bashir's unease and had tried to have him barred
as an unstable liar.

     Another tester, an elderly Vulcan who looked almost familiar to Bashir, had argued
Bashir's case for him. He had won the admission committee over. Afterward, Bashir
had thanked him for having so much confidence in him. The elderly Vulcan had only
said gravely that he wished that he had had such confidence in his own son and that
he hoped that Bashir would eventually turn out as well. Only in his second year in the
Academy, during a Federation history class, did Bashir realize that the elderly Vulcan
had been the renowned Ambassador Sarek.

     Well, Sarek was dead, now, and Bashir wasn't very certain of the support from the
rest of his friends. God, what if they had him committed to the Institute with the four
other genetically enhanced individuals he had worked with a few months ago? The
thought was too horrible to contemplate. He considered going to the little false panel
and using the tools of Vantika's trade that he had once put in there. But, if he did that,
his friends would never believe in either his sanity or his innocence ever again. So, he
waited--and fumed.






Chapter Three

     "People, we have a problem," Sisko said. He was meeting with his senior staff in the
Captain's wardroom--all except Julian Bashir, who awaited his fate in his quarters.

     "We haven't been able to find a single piece of evidence confirming Dr. Bashir's
story," Sisko continued. "No fingerprints, no brainwave scans, no DNA...this is not
good."

     "We just can't find anything that proves that Vantika's personality still exists in
Julian's brain," Dax said, looking worried.

     "And I can't find any evidence whatsoever that Sivan Malinka is, or ever has been,
on this station," Odo added. "Nor have I been able to make any kind of link between
him and Vantika."

     "It's possible that Julian is suffering from some sort of multiple personality disorder,"
Dax said. "When that Lethean attacked him two years ago, his personality was
fragmented by the initial assault. He seemed to pull all the pieces back together after
he woke up, but that process may not have been completed."

     "Well, every other genetically enhanced person that we know of is crazy," Kira said.
"Maybe he just hid it better than the others. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if he's
got more secrets than Garak." Poor Garak. He didn't need his already battered
reputation as DS9's resident mystery man to deteriorate even further. He had little else
in life. Well, at least this would help Bashir continue to keep his nosy, Cardassian
friend off-balance during their lunches together--if all ended well. Garak could use the
mental exercise.

     "Maybe he's just tired," O'Brien said defensively. "He's been through a lot lately.
He's had to patch up a lot of people since the War started, and before that, he spent a
month in a Dominion prison camp. Maybe he just needs some time out."

     "Either way," Worf said. "He is dangerous." Both Dax and O'Brien glared at him, but
he held his ground.

     "You did not see him in combat," he insisted. "He was not in control of himself.There
is no telling what he could do if pushed. We must confine him until we can either cure
him or send him back to Earth."

     "I'm not ready to give up on him yet," Sisko said. "But I'm not sure how much longer
we can keep things the way they are without some hard evidence of what is really
going on here. If he's wrong, then we will do the best we can for him. But, if he is right,
then we have an extremely dangerous and unstable individual running around this
station with what may be the deadliest disease in existence under his control. And the
only way we can get to him is through someone whom we care about, but who may be
even more dangerous and unstable."
 
     He stood up. "Go over all of your evidence, again. See if you can find something--
anything--to corroborate Julian's story. I'm going to go talk to him again. Maybe he can
give us some more information."




     Sisko nodded to the two security guards on either side of Bashir's, then tapped the
doorbell. It chimed. From the other side of the door Bashir said curtly, "Come in."

     The door slid open for Sisko. Cautiously, he stepped through. The quarters inside
were neat--almost spartan. Bashir's living space always looked as if he were on the
verge of a transfer. Bashir was pacing up and down from one side of his quarters to
another. 

     He looked up as Sisko entered and strode toward him. "Captain! I was expecting
Counselor Telnorri, or maybe Miles or Dax, but..."

     "But not me," Sisko finished for him. "Yes, I know. I haven't been trying avoid seeing
you. It's just that Counselor Telnorri thought it would be better if you didn't have too
many visitors, yet."

     Bashir snorted. "He's probably afraid my head will start spinning around and I'll
begin speaking in tongues if I have too much excitement. That's the only reason I can
think why he'd want me to be bored to tears. Please, have a seat."

     Sisko pulled up a chair while Bashir flopped down onto his couch. Reaching for his
teddy bear Kukalaka on the table beside him, Bashir nervously began to pull on its
ears. Sisko suppressed a smile. Sometimes, Bashir seemed older than Dax. Other
times, he acted younger than Jake. When Bashir had first arrived on the station, Sisko
had attributed this dichotomy to inexperience tempered by superb training. Now, he
wondered if Bashir's childhood genetic treatments had forced maturity on him in some
areas at the expense of others.

     "So," Sisko said. "How are you feeling?"

     "Oh, fine. Just fine." Bashir smiled unconvincingly. He was lying, of course. "Telnorri
has been to see me--a lot. I've been taking my medication when I'm supposed to and I
haven't had any 'visitations' since the staff meeting. At least...I don't think so." He
looked lost for a moment but recovered quickly. "So, how is the investigation going?"

     Sisko debated finding a gentle way to tell him, then decided that there wasn't any.
"It isn't.

     "We haven't found anything to indicate that Malinka has ever been on the station,"
He explained. "And as far as Vantika is concerned--we haven't been able to find any
evidence, either physical or neurological, that Vantika is still in your brain."

     Bashir stopped pulling Kukalaka's ears. "I see." He stared at the floor for a few
minutes, hugging the bear to his chest. Sisko wondered if he was even aware of what
he was doing. "So," Bashir said finally. "What you're saying is that I'm as crazy as a
Vole on dilithium powder."

     "Not exactly, " Sisko said. "But we're definitely running out of alternative theories."

     "I see." Bashir looked unnaturally calm. "Are you going to send me to the Institute?"

     Sisko shook his head, feeling tired. "We haven't really thought about sending you
anywhere, yet. Even if this does turn out to be some kind of...breakdown, you may be
able to continue on here under treatment, the way we did with O'Brien, after he was
imprisoned by the Argrathi."

     "Oh, I don't think so," Bashir said. "Not the Chief Medical Officer of Deep Space
Nine. No, they'll want someone stable. Besides, Miles' hallucinations weren't
homicidal, and with my background, I doubt that they would allow me to remain in
Starfleet, anyway. It's too dangerous. Too many people would blame this on my
enhancements."

     "I'm sorry, Julian." Sisko stood up, tugging on his uniform top. "I really am. I wish I
could do more."

     Bashir sighed. "Yeah, everybody's sorry. I'm sorry. You're sorry. If I were smart, I'd
just sit here and feel sorry for myself until the men in white came to take me away...

     "Well, I'm not smart."

     Bashir came up off the couch so fast that Sisko had no time to react. He doubled
over as Bashir hit him in the stomach. Then, a blow knocked him to the floor. He heard
the swish of the door, and a cry of alarm--cut off--from one of the guards. He
whispered, "Don't hurt him." Then, he heard the drawn-out whine of a phaser, and the
thud of a body hitting the deck.

     A blurry figure wearing a Bajoran security uniform rushed into the room.
Solicitously, it bent over him. "Captain? Are you all right?"

     "Odo?" Sisko groaned.

     "It's all right, Captain. It's me." Odo helped Sisko to his feet. He looked shaken. "I
came out of the wall behind him, but still, he almost got me. Kira told me that he killed
my double in the Mirror universe but I never believed he could be that fast."

     "Did you hurt him?" Sisko asked, alarmed.
 
     "No, no. He's just stunned," Odo reassured him. "So are the guards. Prophets, he
was so *fast.*"

     "How did you know?" Sisko said.

     "I didn't. I suspected. I started thinking about how he might react if he really were
Vantika and I decided I'd stop by to provide some back up--just in case."

     Sisko straightened up painfully. "I guess today was 'just in case.'" He went to the
door and looked out into the hallway. The two guards were just beginning to stir.
Halfway to the turbolift, Bashir sprawled facedown on the deck. He was still clutching
Kukalaka.




     Bashir awoke in the Infirmary. His first sensation was that he had just done
something incredibly stupid. Then, he remembered the incredibly stupid thing he had
done.

     "Oh, God," he said. The discovery that he was in restraints was an anti-climax. It
was, after all, a pretty logical response to beating up one's commanding officer. Still,
he wished he'd woken up in the Brig. At least, then, he'd know that he was only in
legal trouble.

     The Infirmary was dark, and no noises came from the Promenade, which meant that
it was after hours by station time. Bashir considered calling for the night nurse, a
Vulcan ensign fresh from the Academy, who would be on duty in the outer lab. Then,
he decided he just couldn't face anybody yet. It was too humiliating.

     He heard a whisper of movement in the room. He couldn't quite follow it. It seemed
to be going along the floor. He tried to crane his neck to see, but the restraint field
prevented him from seeing over the edge of the bed. Was it Sinak, the night nurse?
No, none of his nurses would sneak around like that.

     When Malinka popped up beside him, Bashir jumped. Malinka grinned at him and
said, "Surprise! Miss me?"

     Bashir just stared at him for a few seconds. Then, "Oh, wonderful! What a perfect
capper to my day. And *just*  when I thought it couldn't get any better."

     Malinka giggled. "I see your sense of humor is coming back."

     Bashir lunged at him, and was stopped dead by the restraint field. Malinka didn't
even twitch. "I'll tell you what's not coming back," Bashir snarled. "The reason why
Vantika didn't kill you the minute he met you."

     "Now, there you go again," Malinka said, making a face. "Trying to deny your true
identity."

     Bashir sighed and let his head rest against the hard triangular pillow (*These beds
are pathetic,* he thought. *No wonder I never let myself get sick.*). "Look, why don't we
dispense with all the customary pleasantries between psychopaths and get to the
point? What do you want from me?"

     "Oh, Rao," Malinka said, reaching through the field to stroke Bashir's hair. Bashir
flinched, as though a large spider had dropped on his face, and reached up to push
Malinka's hand away. "After all the things I've done for you, all the sacrifices I've made-
-my career, my reputation, my wife...you still don't trust in my commitment."

     *His wife?*  Bashir thought, unbidden images rushing into his mind. *No, I do not
need that memory right now. I really don't.*

     "If you want respect from me, Malinka, " he said hurriedly, to block out the dirty flood
of memories that was washing through his mind. "Then you need to cut to the chase,
and tell me just how getting me thrown into an insane asylum is supposed to impress
me."

     Malinka smiled absently. And then, he began to tell Bashir everything. Bashir wasn't
sure that he was quite able to keep his growing horror out of his face. Fortunately,
Malinka didn't seem to notice.




     Ensign Sinak was in the outer alcove of the Infirmary near the door onto the
Promenade when he heard the noise. He had been working on a file on the main
computer when a giggle came from the patients' room. Only Dr. Bashir was in there,
but the last time Sinak had checked on him, Bashir had been asleep. Besides, this did
not sound like Bashir.

     Of course, Dr. Bashir had been acting very strangely, lately--which was why he was
in the Infirmary, under restraint, in the first place. Sinak picked up a tricorder and went
to investigate.

As he approached the patients' room, he heard the giggle again, and then the voice
continued--rapid and low. It did not sound like Dr. Bashir at all. Sinak stepped through
the doorway into the room, which was lit only by the diagnostics panel over Dr.
Bashir's bed. He saw no one, save Bashir, who was wide awake and straining at his
restraint field.

     "Dr. Bashir?" Sinak asked cautiously. "Are you all right?"

     Bashir glared at him, wild-eyed. "Sinak. Run!"

     "What--" Out of the corner of his eye, Sinar saw a figure coming at him out of the
shadows. He slapped his commbadge and shouted, "Sinak to Security! In--" The figure
tackled him, knocking him down. Sinak twisted around  to try and knock his assailant
off. Before he could, he felt a hypospray shoved against his shoulder and heard a hiss
 He sagged back, his eyesight already dimming. He heard Bashir shout in anguish.
Then, he felt another push, heard another hiss, as consciousness faded.

     Two Bajoran security men rushed in a few minutes later--too late. Seeing Sinak
collapsed in the doorway, they stooped to help him but were stopped by Bashir's
warning.

     "Don't touch him!" Bashir said frantically. "He's been infected. We need to get him
into an isolation field right now."






Chapter Four

     Bashir paced up and down in the outer room of the Infirmary like a caged panther.
Sisko opened his mouth to say something sympathetic, then closed it. When a
drowning man pushed your head underwater, you didn't pat him on the head. You let
him have the rescue float and got the hell away from him. 

     Sisko knew that part of Bashir's tension was that he wanted to help Ensign Sinak.
Sisko wasn't about to let him anywhere near a patient, just yet, though. *If I give him
any more rope,* Sisko thought. *He might hang himself.* 

     He supposed that it wasn't very different (or more hazardous) than when Dax had
her first, violent memories of Joran Belar, but watching Bashir pace back and forth in
the Infirmary still gave Sisko a chill.  Sisko considered, one more time, the wisdom of
allowing Bashir out of restraints...then dismissed the worry. Bashir, after all, had just
been proved fatally right in both his fears and his hallucinations.

     Malinka was gone. He had escaped on a Bolian transport while the security guards
were still deciding whether or not they should believe Bashir's wild story. According to
Bashir, Malinka wouldn't be back, but Odo was not taking any chances. After giving the
two hapless security guards a thorough dressing down, Odo had posted security
guards everywhere, and put a tracer on the transport. Sisko didn't have the heart to tell
Odo that all this fuss was like closing the barn door after the horse. On the other hand,
sometimes the horse did come back home. 

     Dax came out of the patients' room, where a medical team had set up an isolation
field on one of the biobeds for Nurse Sinak. She looked grim.

     Bashir stopped pacing. Both he and Sisko approached her, turning their full
attention on her.

     "Well?" Sisko said.

     Dax shook her head. "I don't think he's going to make it. His lungs are already filling
up with fluid and he's started coughing up blood. We can't keep his temperature from
rising, either, and his blood pressure is falling. Unless we can find a way to counteract
this virus, he'll be dead inside of twelve hours."

     "There is no cure," Bashir said wearily. "Malinka didn't bother to make one."

     "He told you that?" Dax asked.

     Bashir sagged into a chair next to the Infirmary's two-tiered main console. "Yes, he
did. He said that creating a cure would detract from the...awe of his accomplishment."

     Cautiously, Sisko pulled up a chair beside Bashir and sat down. "Did he tell you
anything else? Do you...remember anything?"

     "Yes, and yes." Bashir rubbed his eyes. Clearly, the sedatives he'd been given
earlier hadn't helped him get any real sleep. "I think I know why Malinka is doing this--
at least, why *he* thinks he's doing it. Vantika killed his wife."

     Dax also pulled up a chair. "Julian, did Malinka tell you this?"

     "Not...exactly. He mentioned his wife and suddenly, I had--It didn't make much
sense. It was like a flashback."

     "Like my hallucinations when I started to remember Joran Belar," Dax said
morosely. "When they first came bubbling up out of nowhere, I didn't know *what* to
think. I knew that *I'd* never killed anybody, and I didn't remembered Joran at all. The
Trill Commission's memory block was very good--for as long as it lasted, anyway."

     "Yes, it was something like that, a memory block breaking down," Bashir said. "But, I
didn't completely fade out. I think that Vantika killed Malinka's wife."

     Dax looked stunned. Sisko swallowed, and asked, "Why?"

     Bashir grimaced. "Malinka's wife was trying to get him to back out of his deal with
Vantika. She must have suspected something. Her death was supposed to be a
message."

     Sisko said, "How did Vantika do it? Did he do it himself?"

      "No," Bashir shook his head. " As you know, he doesn't do his own dirty work,
unless he has to. Whoever he got to do it arranged some sort of accident for her."

     "But Malinka got the message," Dax said.

     "Let's just say that his commitment to Vantika was 100% after that." Bashir leaned
back in his chair and closed his eyes. "But that's not the worst part. Malinka's found
himself a test site for 16-7. It's Filar 6."

     Sisko and Dax digested that. "Ah," Dax said finally. "I wondered why we were all still
healthy."

     Sisko thought of Ensign Sinak, choking to death on his own fluids over in the
next room. "Why didn't he just release it on DS9?"

     Bashir grinned without amusement. "Oh, that's not nearly spectacular enough.
Malinka wants to kill millions--billions, if he can. He wasn't about to waste his precious
virus on a little space station like DS9. Of course, if we hadn't isolated Sinak right
away, he wouldn't have had to. It's that contagious."

     "So," Dax said. "He picked Filar 6, instead. I suppose, according to Malinka's brand
of logic, it's a perfect place. It's a backwater--small, poor, and crowded. Curzon spent a
month there, one day. All of the life support domes have been interconnected for
centuries, and security is lax. We should warn them."

     "No," Bashir said firmly. "We mustn't warn them. We should go after Malinka,
ourselves. Now."

     "I understand why you want go after this man, Julian," Sisko said. "But I really don't
think we have time for dramatics...or revenge."

     Bashir stood up and began pacing again. "You don't understand. I'm the only one
on the station who even knew he was here. The authorities on Filar 6 will never get to
him in time. I'm the only one who can find him. Malinka wants a showdown with me.
He'll wait--not forever--but long enough for me to get there in a reasonable amount of
time. And once I'm there, he'll contact me."

     "How can you be sure?" Dax asked.

     Bashir snorted. "Oh, come on. He's been waiting years just to impress me.
Everything he did here was meant to make me angry enough to come after him like a
Plygorian mammoth with a Cardassian flea in its ear. And if I *were* Vantika, I would
be angry enough to do that. He'll contact me. Then, I'll have him."

     Sisko didn't like the way Bashir confused himself with Vantika, but couldn't fault his
CMO's argument. Bashir was right; he was the perfect bait. Malinka was obsessed with
him.

     On the other hand.... "All right," Sisko conceded. "I see your point. But, I won't let you
do this alone. You'll need backup in case Malinka gets the drop on you." 

     *And in case you lose it.* Sisko didn't have to say it for Bashir to hear it. Bashir bit
his lip, then nodded. "Who do you want to go with me?"

     Dax chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure Ben can find you a volunteer--or two."

     Ensign Sinak died two hours later. 




     Dax pulled on her uniform jacket and zipped it up. Worf watched her sourly from
their bed. "You are going with him, aren't you?"

     Dax turned her back on him, and sat down on the bed to pull on her boots. "I'm not
going to argue with you about this, Worf," she said. "Julian is my friend just as he is
Miles' and he deserves my support. He could certainly use it right now."

     "Jadzia." Worf had that tone of voice that said, *You are being irritatingly eccentric;
make it stop.* "It is unwise for you get involved in this. Dr. Bashir has become more
dangerous than you realize. He will capitalize on your sympathy for him."

     Dax had had enough. She turned around, knelt on the bed, and got right in Worf's
face. "Let's get one thing straight here, *husband.* Julian Bashir is my friend. He's
been my friend for a lot longer than I've known you. If you push this hard enough he
may still be my friend after the door hits you on the way out of this marriage. Your
being my husband doesn't give you the right to tell me who my friends are."

     She got up off the bed and turned away. She ordered a Black Hole. Maybe it was
five in the morning, station time, but between her jealous husband and her crazy
friend, she needed a drink.

     Behind her, Worf said plaintively, "I do not understand why you associate with him.
Surely you know that he is...attracted to you."

     Dax sighed. "Julian is not 'attracted' to me. He's in love with me. If I felt the same
way toward him, he'd be in that bed, and not you. Fortunately for you, and
unfortunately for him, I don't.

     "That does not mean," she continued, her voice rising with her temper. "That I don't
care about him and his welfare. He's saved my life so many times that I'm
embarrassed to count them. I don't get very many chances to repay that debt, and I'm
not going to let him down this time. Now, if you can't handle that, just put a pillow over
your head and pretend I ducked out for an early morning calisthenics routine. Got it?"

     Worf stared at her for a moment, then lay back down and pulled his pillow over his
head. Dax shrugged, and left.






Chapter Five

     "Jadzia, do you think I'm crazy?"

     Dax was taken aback by Bashir's question. Since Filar 6 was deep inside
Federation territory, it wasn't necessary to keep as close a watch for enemy ships as it
would have been if they'd been running the Cardassian/Dominion border. O'Brien had
gone into the back of the runabout to get some tools for a faulty tricorder. Dax and
Bashir were alone up front.

      "Well?" Bashir asked.

     "Ah..." Dax stalled for time. "Ah, well, I'm not sure what you mean."

     Bashir turned in his chair, and folded his arms. "It's a simple enough question. Do
you...think...I'm crazy?"

     "Julian, it may be a simple question, but the answer is not."

     "In other words: Yes, you think I'm crazy."

     Dax had to concede that he was right. If she'd thought he was sane, the answer
would have been simple. "Does it matter?" she asked.

     Bashir looked pensive, then shook his head. "No. I suppose not. Miles thinks I'm
completely around the bend, but he's still backing me up. I guess, after what the
Argrathi did to him--what with making him think he killed his best friend over food after
20 years in a jail cell--anything *my* imagination can come up with is pretty tame. I just
don't understand why *you're* doing this for me."

     Dax leaned over in her chair and took Bashir's hands in hers. He started. She
thought he might pull away, but after a tense moment, he relaxed. 

     "Julian," she said very quietly, and very gently. "How many times have you saved
my life, my career--my sanity, even? How many times have you put yourself on the line
for me? Can you even count them all?"

     "I-I'm not sure." Bashir seemed taken aback. "I never really gave it much thought."

     "Well, I have. And I know that there are more times than either of us could count."

     She leaned close to him, clutching his hands in hers. He went still. She pretended
not to notice. 

     "Let me make it up to you, Julian. Just this once, let me help you, all right? Just trust
me. Can you do that, Julian? Does that answer your question?"

      Bashir's face softened. "I'll try." he said. "And...thank you, Jadzia."

     Dax did her best to look cheerful. "Hey, what are friends for?"  Inside, she was
terrified for him, but she refused to show it. It would do him no good.

     A noise from the back of the runabout made them spontaneously spring apart.
O'Brien came into the forward compartment bearing the offending tricorder and a
briefcase-sized toolkit.

     "Found it," he said, triumphantly. "It took long enough. It's a bloody mess back there.
I tell you, there'll be hell to pay for whoever left it like that when we get back to DS9."

     He flopped down into the science officer's seat, next to Bashir. "How long until we
get to Filar 6?"

     Dax looked at the chronometer on her control panel. "We have about eight hours
left." She glanced at Bashir. "Julian, why don't you go get some sleep? You didn't get
very much last night, and we'll need you to be alert once we arrive on planet."

     Bashir let his shoulders slump and nodded. He knew she was right, of course. He
looked exhausted. He retreated into the sleeping quarters in the back of the runabout.

     After he had gone, O'Brien said, "What were you two talking about?"

     "Just discussing old war stories," Dax hedged. "Nothing exciting." 

     O'Brien looked as if he might press the issue, then seemed to change his mind and
let it drop. Dax was secretly relieved.




     Half an hour before the runabout arrived at Filar 6, O'Brien snuck into the sleeping
quarters in the back of the runabout to rouse Bashir. Bashir lay on one of the bunks,
sound asleep. He was on his side, one arm and one leg draped over the edge of the
bunk. He clutched Kukalaka to his chin with the other arm.

     Bashir was not sleeping well. His eyelids flickered; his breath came fast; and he
was twitching as if he were running or fighting. 

     He seemed to be having a nightmare, but O'Brien hesitated to wake him, for fear of
making it worse. O'Brien stood over his friend, unsure what to do. He was surprised to
see that Bashir had brought the bear along. Bashir *never* took his bear on missions.
It was his security, the one possession he dared not lose. 

     *God, he's just this far from stark, raving mad,* O'Brien thought. *What if he tries to
hurt himself? Or Dax? Or me? What am I going to do?* He crouched down next to his
friend and looked at him.

     Whenever O'Brien had been in trouble, Bashir had never hesitated to help him,
even when he was a danger to himself, and to his own wife and child. Bashir had once
stood in a cargo bay and talked him out of blowing his own head off with a phaser.

     O'Brien had been too muddled to think of it, at the time, but afterward he had
realized that the phaser had been set so high that he would have taken Bashir with
him. And Bashir had known that. O'Brien still felt guilty about it, but Bashir would never
discuss the subject. He'd said that it wasn't necessary.

     O'Brien considered his options. There weren't many. He owed Bashir and he'd
agreed to back him to the end of this mission. Now was the time to pay the piper. He
reached out tentatively and shook Bashir's shoulder. Bashir came awake. He blinked
up at O'Brien.

     "Time to get up, Julian," O'Brien told him. "We're almost there."




     Katarka Spaceport on Filar 6 was crowded, so O'Brien put the runabout into a
stationary orbit over the spaceport, instead of landing. He, Dax, and Bashir beamed
down.

     Bashir was jittery. If Customs at the Spaceport had been better, they might have
noticed him and asked questions. Instead, they had accepted Dax's story that the three
of them were on vacation without question. Dax found their laxity disturbing. It looked
as if Bashir was right, after all. Contacting the authorities on this lethal little dustball
would only have complicated things.

     O'Brien had suggested that they wear civilian clothes, and Bashir had agreed. They
didn't want to attract any undue attention from anyone except Malinka while they were
planetside. The runabout would be enough to alert the Kobliad. Bashir was certain that
he would have tapped into the planetary comm systems--even the secure channels--
by now.

     Dax suggested that they get a hotel room. They checked into a medium priced suite
and unloaded their gear. They each had a tricorder, and phasers, with them. Bashir
had his medkit. As soon as they were settled in, Dax used the comm system in the
outer room to uplink to the runabout and break into the planetary computer system. It
was a disturbingly easy crime to commit.

     "I'm looking for any unexplained systems failures or cascade effects in the planetary
computer," Dax explained to O'Brien and Bashir. "I'm hoping that we'll be able to
pinpoint the place where Malinka might have set a subspace shunt." Using a
subspace shunt had been one of Vantika's favorite tactics. Bashir couldn't remember if
he'd taught Malinka the technique, so Dax's foray was a bit of a guessing game.

     "Look," she said, after a few minutes. Bashir and O'Brien gathered behind her
around the console. Dax pointed at a suspicious looking failure in the power plant of
Katarka's isobyron injectors on City Level 6. "I'll bet if we go there, we might still find
the subspace shunt."

     O'Brien sighed. "Well, at least it's a start, if we can prove Malinka's there. What do
you think, Julian?"

     Bashir shrugged, picked up a phaser and slung his medkit over his shoulder. "He'll
contact me one way or the other. We might as well get as good a drop on him as we
can, first. Let's go, then.

     "You two be careful, though," he added. "I'm not sure how Malinka will react when
he sees you."

     "Julian, we're not bloody amateurs," O'Brien said irritably.

     "Don't worry, Julian," Dax reassured Bashir. "We'll stay out of his way."




     Getting into the power plant took some doing. They couldn't simply walk in, since
they weren't officially on Filar 6, so they chose to beam in during the latter part of the
third shift. Because it was late at night, the isobyron levels inside the plant were low
enough to not interfere with the transporter beam, or the tricorders.

     "Let's fan out and check for the shunt's EM signature," O'Brien suggested.

     Bashir had become increasingly restless over the past few hours, and had refused
to sleep. Now, he looked impatient. "Is there a point to this?" he demanded irritably.

     O'Brien was annoyed. "Look, Julian," he said. "You were fine with this plan when
we came up with it. If you've got a better idea, why don't you share it with us?"

     Bashir glared at O'Brien for a moment, then turned away. "Fine," he snapped. "We'll
try it your way for awhile." As he stalked away, O'Brien heard him mutter, "Incompetent
amateurs."

     "Well," O'Brien said indignantly. "I know he's upset, but he's really pushing it, now."

     "No, he's right," Dax replied. "This is a complete waste of time."

     "What?" O'Brien peered at Dax in the darkness. "Wait a minute. This was your idea."

     "Wrong," Dax snapped. "This was Jadzia's idea, not mine."

    It was hot and muggy inside the power plant. Nevertheless, O'Brien suddenly felt a
chill. Whichever host this was standing next to him, it wasn't Jadzia.

     "In fact," Dax went on. "This entire thing was her idea. If it were up to me," she said,
raising her voice. "You'd be in a padded cell where you belong, Doctor."

     "Joran," O'Brien whispered. 

     One corner of Dax's mouth turned up in a sardonic smile. "Well, it certainly isn't
Jadzia."

     Bashir, who had been pacing impatiently up and down the corridor doing a tricorder
scan, had stopped when Dax raised her voice. Now, he came striding back. He
brushed past O'Brien and stalked up to Dax. "Well, well, well," he snarled. "I was
wondering when you'd show yourself again, Joran."

     Dax bristled. "Don't play your games with me, Vantika." She and Bashir began to
circle each other, like hungry tigers. "Don't think I can't give you as good a lobotomy as
Jadzia did."

     O'Brien opened his mouth to intervene, but a familiar voice in his ear said urgently,
"NO, Miles. Stop!"

     O'Brien froze. "E-E'echar?" he whispered. "Is that you?"

     "Miles, you have to get out of here. It's a trap!"  The voice was definitely E'echar's.

     *No,* O'Brien thought. *This isn't real. I'm hallucinating again, like I was after the
Argrathi let me go. I have to get hold of myself. I--*

     The giggle was not loud, but it cut through the hot air like ice. It came from several
meters away, where the edge of the platform curved farther into the power plant.
O'Brien looked and saw a shabbily dressed, older man.

     "Oh, God," O'Brien said out loud. It was Malinka. 

     Dax and Bashir were nose to nose, with their hands on their phasers, but they
heard the giggle, too. They both turned their heads and saw Malinka in the shadows.
Bashir's face twisted with even more hatred than he had been showing toward Dax.
Dax's face filled with a cold joy. They both took off after Malinka, who turned and
disappeared around the curve.

     O'Brien started after them, but before he could get more than a few steps, someone
hit him from behind and knocked him down. He heard another crazed giggle, this time
right next to his ear. "Now, now, Mr. O'Brien. We wouldn't want you spoiling my little
surprise for them, would you?"

     "Miles, he's going to kill you!" E'echar shouted in O'Brien's ear. In a panic, O'Brien
shoved against the floor, throwing Malinka off him. He heard Malinka grunt in pain as
he hit the floor. O'Brien sincerely hoped that the Kobliad had broken something.

     Without waiting for Malinka to recover, he slapped his commbadge and shouted,
"O'Brien to Rio Grande. Beam me up, now!"

     Malinka clawed at him. As he scrambled away, he felt the familiar transporter effect
take him. Then, the bulkheads of the runabout materialized around him. He pushed
himself to his feet and staggered into the forward compartment. "Computer, beam up
Dax and Bashir, now!"

     "Unable to comply," came back the too-calm voice.

     "Why not?" O'Brien snapped.

     "Unable to establish a coherent transport beam. Isobyron levels have risen 20%
above accepted levels for transport."

     O'Brien slapped his commbadge. "O'Brien to Bashir." No response. "O'Brien to Dax.
Dax, come in." Nothing. They were gone.

     "Oh, God," O'Brien  slid to a sitting position against the wall, and covered his face.
"Oh, God."




     Vantika/Bashir sprinted after Malinka. Joran Dax was right on his heels. Vantika
hadn't been this happy in a very long time. After so many years, he was finally going to
get this irritating little weasel, and beat him to death. Malinka seemed to stay just a few
meters ahead of him, but Vantika was going to change that very soon. 

     Malinka fled around a bend in the corridor. When Bashir followed him, he found
Malinka standing only two meters away. Malinka smiled mockingly at Vantika and
said, "Come and get me--if you can."

     "Oh, I'll get you, all right," Vantika snarled, and leaped for Malinka's throat. As he
reached for Malinka, Malinka's image shimmered, and Vantika's grasping hands
passed right through the other's body. At the same moment, Vantika realized that he
was treading on air. He had a single moment to feel terminally stupid, then he plunged
into the dark.






Chapter Six

     Bashir awoke slowly. He felt as if he had been lying in the sun for a long time, even
though the light was dim. He heard his comm badge chirp.

     "O'Brien to Dax. O'Brien to Bashir. Can either of you hear me?" O'Brien sounded
tired and angry. "One of you answer me already, goddamnit."

     "Dax here," Dax said, practically in Bashir's ear. "Hang on, Miles." Bashir realized
that he was lying on his back and Dax was sprawled on top of him. In other
circumstances, he would have found it pleasurable. Not this time. At the moment, his
back and neck were itching badly and there was a loud humming in his ears. Dax's
weight lifted off him.

     "Julian?" Someone was shaking him. "Julian? Can you hear me?"

     Julian opened his mouth. Not much came out. He tried again. "Dax?"

     "More or less." Dax sounded groggy. "Can you move?"

     "I'm...not sure. What is that *noise?"*

     "We're lying on a force field. It broke our fall, but I'm not sure how long it will hold.
You need to move, Julian."

     Bashir opened his eyes. Dax was leaning over him. Her ponytail had come loose
and her hair hung down around her face. She looked haggard. 

     "Hi," she said.

     "Hi," he replied. He tried to lift his head. It was a mistake. He closed his eyes and
eased his head back down onto the force field. The back of his head itched
unbearably.

     Dax was unsympathetic. "Julian, you have to move. I can't do it. I can barely move
myself."

     "Wait. Give me a minute." Painfully, Bashir rolled over, keeping his eyes closed. His
cheek began to tingle unpleasantly. He reached out and found a wall. He groped
along it until he found a handle-like projection. Grabbing it, he began to pull himself
painfully toward the wall. It was like dragging himself across a carpet of drunk hornets,
but he made it, eventually.

     "Dax, are you still there?" O'Brien's voice was distant and tinny.

     "I'm here, Miles," Dax said from beside Bashir. "I'm bringing Julian up to speed."

     Bashir clung to the handhold. After a few minutes he tried opening his eyes. The
experiment went slightly better, this time.

     "Ohhh," he said. "I feel terrible. You look better."

     Dax smiled ruefully at him. "He must have stunned us after we fell, to make sure we
stayed out of action for awhile. I think Malinka stunned you two or three times more
than he did me."

     "Making sure," Bashir suggested.

     "Probably. Are you going to be okay?"

     "I'll live." Bashir leaned cautiously out from the wall and peered down through the
force field. The shaft beyond went down a long way. "That's a big drop," he said. "Think
Malinka knew about this force field?"

     Dax picked up a yellow bundle of plastic. "Well, if he did, it would explain why he
threw down this environmental suit after us. I wonder what he's up to now?"

     Bashir suddenly felt cold. "I have pretty good idea."

     Dax looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

     Bashir leaned his head back and swallowed. "Malinka wants me to make a choice,
just like Vantika made him make a choice."

     "He wants you to take the suit and leave me here, you mean," Dax suggested. "Just
like he left his wife to Vantika's mercy."

     Bashir nodded. "Are you going to do that?" she asked.

     He stared at her, speechless with outrage. At his look, she smiled sadly. "I didn't
think so. Not that it helps either of us that much."




     In the runabout, O'Brien tapped the console that showed the map to the city plant
and tried not to worry. He wasn't feeling very successful. Bashir and Dax had been
unconscious for over an hour. In that time, the isobyron levels inside the shaft they had
fallen down had risen up to 70% of safe levels for humanoids. It was consistent with
the increase of activity in the first hour after planetary dawn. By midday, even a level
five environmental suit wouldn't protect them. He had to get them out right away.

     He slapped his commbadge. "People, we need to come up with a plan, now. You're
not safe where you are."




     Back pressed against the airshaft wall, Dax clung to a handrail and watched Bashir.
Julian was doing a fair job of shaking off the effects of his multiple stuns, but he was
clearly still groggy. He hung from his own handhold next to her, eyes closed, taking
deep breaths.

     Dax slapped her commbadge. "Chief, are you sure you can't beam us up from
here?"

     "The isobyron is interfering with my scanners." O'Brien sounded frustrated. "I can't
get a transporter fix on either one of you. Dax...am I talking to Jadzia or Joran?"

     Dax glanced at Bashir, who opened one eye. "Uh, it's me, again, Chief."

     "And...Julian?" Bashir, she noticed, was watching her for her reaction.

     "He's Julian again, too. Chief, how did you catch on to Malinka so fast?"

     The silence on the commlink lasted for several seconds. Then, O'Brien said,
"E'echar told me."

     Dax banged her head back against the wall two or three times, then said, "I see."
She looked at Bashir again. He smiled humorlessly back at her.

     "What a clever little monkey Malinka has been, don't you think?" he said. He
stopped short of saying *I told you so* but Dax heard it, nonetheless. So did O'Brien,
she was certain.

     "I suppose this would be as good a time as any to gloat," she said, by way of
apology.

     He shook his head, brushing it off. "We don't have time for that, " he said. He was
right, of course-which only embarrassed Dax more. So, she simply nodded her head,
and began to scan the shaft for a possible escape route.

     "Chief," she asked. "Do you have any idea how we could get out of here?"

     "The plant is circular in shape," O'Brien replied. "There are five rings, then the
central reactor. You're in a ventilation shaft on level four, below the reactor. As far as I
can tell, there are two possible ways out: right past the reactor or through an access
tunnel two levels below.

     "There's a problem, though. You'd never get past the reactor without a suit.
You could go below, I suppose. You'd be safe enough in the suit, but you'd have to
move fast without it or your insides would fry. One more thing--the nearest hatch at the
end of that tunnel has to be opened from the outside."

     Dax looked at Bashir. He stared back her, looking sick. Bashir tapped his
commbadge and said, "Miles, what kind of environmental suit do you need to get past
the reactor?"

     There was a pause. Then, O'Brien said, "Level three, to be safe."

     Bashir indicated the suit. "Dax?"

     Dax examined the suit. "It's level two," she said. "Chief, could someone make it in a
level two suit?"

     "Well, they could, but they'd be sick as a dog afterward."

     Dax glanced at Bashir, who shrugged. They both knew their choices were limited.

     "We'll worry about afterward, afterward, Miles," Bashir said. "Could somebody make
it through and get to the other hatch?"

     "What are you thinking, Julian?" Dax said.

     "I'm thinking," Bashir said. "That you could take the suit, get past the reactor, and go
open the other hatch. Then, all I'd have to do is get to the hatch from the other route,
myself."

     After a stunned silence, Dax said, "You're kidding."

     "Julian, you'd never make it," O'Brien chimed in.

     "You might not make it either, Dax," Bashir retorted. "And if you don't, I definitely
won't.

     "Look," he said, his expression softening. "You've got the symbiont to worry about.
With my enhancements, and no symbiont to drag me down, I might be able to go a little
longer than you could--just enough for us both to get out."

     "That's a big 'If', Julian," Dax said angrily.

     "Jadzia," Bashir said softly. And suddenly, she knew that he wasn't including the
Dax symbiont. "Jadzia, let me do this."

     For a few seconds, they glared at each other. Finally, Dax let her shoulders slump
and accepted defeat. "All right, Julian. What do you have in mind?"

     "Put the suit on," he suggested.

     Reluctantly, Dax plucked off her commbadge, and suited up. Before zipping up the
hood, she paused and quipped, "How do I look?"

     "You look beautiful," Bashir said softly. Before Dax could react, he moved against
her, pressing her back against the wall. The kiss surprised her. It was long and
deliberate. There was more skill in it than she would have thought Julian capable of,
but she could sense the passion straining at the walls of the technique as he cupped
her face in his hands. She enjoyed it a great deal more than she should have--being a
married woman--and when he finally pulled away, she was sorry.

     "I love you," he said.

     Dax felt herself flush with embarrassment. She opened her mouth to relieve the
moment with a joke. Then, she saw the look on Bashir's face. She saw that he was on
the knife edge of terror. *He doesn't think he's going to make it,* she thought.

     "It's better that you're taking the suit," he said. She heard more than one meaning in
that.

     "Vantika's really tearing out the walls in there, isn't he?" she said gently.

     Bashir grimaced. "Let's just say that if he were in charge, you wouldn't be the one
wearing that suit." He swung over to the ladder beside her and began to climb down it.
After a few rungs, he paused and looked up at her. "You'll come for me won't you?
Even...even if it's too late."

     "Of course," Dax replied. "I'll be there, Julian. You just worry about getting to the
hatch."

     Bashir nodded, his face grim, and continued down the shaft. Dax slapped her
commbadge. "Chief, we're splitting up."

     "Acknowledged." O'Brien sounded edgy. "Good luck to you both." Dax sealed up
her hood and started up the shaft toward the reactor. 




     Halfway through the access tunnel, Bashir realized what a stupid thing he was
doing--even barmier than slugging his superior officer or jumping down an airshaft. He
was the emperor of bad decisions, lately. He was scrambling through the tunnel on his
hands and knees as quickly as he could, but he could already feel himself tiring.

     "This isn't going to work." He jumped at the voice, which came from just over his
right shoulder. He looked back, but saw no one.

     "You heard me," the voice said again. Bashir recognized the voice from his dreams.
It was Rao Vantika. "I can't *believe* you gave that bitch the suit."

     "Shut up," Bashir said through his teeth, and tried to go faster.




     Dax scrambled down the access tunnel past the reactor. It seemed to glow from the
isobyron radiation coming off the reactor. She was sweating so badly, the inside of the
suit felt slippery. She'd have a nasty burn by the time she got out of here, but she
ignored the strong desire to stop and scratch herself. *You can do this, Jadzia Dax,*
she told herself. *You have to. Julian is depending on you.*




     "Is this really the best you can do?" Vantika's voice needled.

     "You're the one who got us into this mess. You tell me," Bashir retorted. The voice
fell silent. "That's what I thought." He continued crawling down the access corridor,
which seemed to go on forever.




     Dax nearly cheered when she saw the hatch leading out into the ventilation shaft.
She crawled up to it and yanked on it. It came loose in a shower of rust. Something
told her that this power plant wasn't maintained any better than the rest of the planet.

     She reached out and around to grab a handhold, and pulled herself out into the
shaft. This shaft, if anything, was dimmer than the other one. Most of the lights along
the walls had gone out. She crawled down a meter or two and saw the hatch leading
to Bashir's access tunnel. When she tried to open it, however, she found that it was
rusted shut. Frustrated, she started banging on it.




     Bashir had slowed down quite a bit. He was no longer certain how far he'd come.
The sweat streaming into his eyes made the access tunnel blur. All he wanted to do
was sleep.

     Maybe if he lay down for awhile. Just a few minutes, to rest his eyes. He knew it was
a bad idea, but he was too tired and too hot to care anymore. He sank down on the
floor of the access tunnel.

     Vantika roused immediately. "What are you doing? You can't stay here. Get up."

     "Shut up," Bashir mumbled.

     "No, damn you, I Will NOT. Get up or we'll die."

     "In a moment," Bashir murmured. "Just a moment. I'll get up soon."




     Dax's oxygen was getting low. The hatch wouldn't budge at all, but she wasn't
about to let this one barrier stop her. She climbed up until her hips were level with the
hatch. Then, she brought her feet up against the hatch, and shoved. She let her
momentum slam her, feet-first, back against the hatch. The hatch made a promising
creak. She repeated the procedure. 




     "Julian?" The voice sounded familiar. It wasn't Vantika, who had gone silent some
time ago--either hoarse, or catatonic. Bashir lifted his head, and saw a little boy sitting
farther up the shaft. He was about six years old. He hugged his knees and clutched a
faded brown teddy bear.

      "J-Jules?" Bashir whispered. It was himself, the clumsy little boy he had been, the
defective child in whom he had hatched and grown, like a wasp inside a caterpillar.
And when the wasp had emerged, in all its deadly glory, the caterpillar had been shed
like an old skin, replaced by its killer.

     "Jules?" Bashir whimpered. "I'm sorry I killed you. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."
Painfully, he lifted himself up on his elbows and crawled toward the child. The boy
seemed to recede before him, so Bashir kept crawling after him.




     Dax gave a last, raging kick at the hatch before it finally caved in with a clang. She
was already shivering from fever. She reversed position and peered cautiously into
the access tunnel. "Julian?" No response. "Julian? Are you there?"

     She squeezed into the dimly lit tunnel and stared down it. About three meters away,
she saw a dark shape prone on the floor. She crawled toward it. It was Bashir.

     He lay face down, with one arm outstretched toward her. What she could see of his
face looked peaceful. His eyes were closed. He did not respond when she called him,
or when she reached out and shook him. Dreading the result, she felt for a pulse. She
thought she could feel the weak, rapid flicker of a heartbeat and hoped she wasn't
fooling herself.

     Dax pulled out Bashir's arm from where it rested next to his head and carefully
flipped him over. Then, she took a deep breath and began to drag him back out to the
shaft. She was sweating so much that the inside of the suit's faceplate was fogging up.
Half-blind, she stubbornly kept dragging Bashir's body until they both tumbled back
out into the shaft. They dropped two meters onto a force field. Dax yelped in pain, but
the field held. She slapped her commbadge. "Dax to O'Brien."

     O'Brien responded immediately. "O'Brien here."

      "Chief, I'm through and I've got Julian. Can you beam us up from here?"

     There was a pause. Then, to Dax's relief, O'Brien said. "I've got a fix on you. Hang
on."

     As he spoke, the world around Dax dissolved in transporter shimmer.






Chapter Seven

     The hospitals of Filar 6 were no better run than its power plants, but at least the
Filarians had a lot of experience with isobyron poisoning. When O'Brien beamed
himself, Dax, and Bashir down to Katarka General Hospital, the staff immediately set
Bashir and Dax up in decontamination beds. They asked a few questions. O'Brien
gave them a few vague answers. They let the matter go.

     Dax's exposure had been relatively light. The doctor in charge of her and Bashir
assured O'Brien that she could check out of the hospital within a day. Bashir had a far
more serious case--but it looked as though he would pull through, too.

     As soon as they let him, O'Brien visited Bashir. Bashir was still unconscious, but he
looked more peaceful than he had for some time. That could have been the sedation.
The medical staff had had to put him on a decontamination respirator and a blood
filter. Fortunately, the procedure had been successful and hadn't lasted long, but he
was still completely out of it.. O'Brien sat and watched his friend sleep for awhile, then
went to check on Dax.

     Dax was sitting up in bed watching the afternoon news when O'Brien visited her.
She had what looked like a bad case of sunburn, and was covered with lotion. Thanks
to the suit, she hadn't needed any internal decontamination.

     "Hi, Miles," she said, as O'Brien entered the room. "How's Julian? They told me he'd
pull through but they didn't get into details."

     O'Brien pulled a chair up beside her bed. "He's all right. He's sleeping, right now." 

     Dax shook her head sadly. "Poor Julian. It's probably the best thing for him after
everything that's happened."

     "I suppose so," O'Brien said. "I just wish it hadn't come to this. We should have
taken the possibility that Malinka's device could work on us into account. Malinka's
stayed one step ahead of us the entire time."

     "Well, we did foil his plans this time," Dax corrected him. "Or, I should say, Julian
foiled his plans. Otherwise I'd be dead."

     "So what? He'll just try again. He's obsessed with Julian. He's convinced that
Vantika's still alive inside him, and that he can bring that bastard out."

     Dax smiled grimly. "Good, because that's his one weakness that we know about
and can exploit. Look, Julian was always the bait. We have to let Malinka come to us.
Then, we can grab him."

     "I dunno," O'Brien grumbled. "He got the drop on us pretty easily before. He'll
probably do it again, this time."

     Dax shook her head. "I don't think so. Back on DS9, we weren't even sure whether
Malinka was real or a just figment of Julian's imagination. Now, both you and I have
seen him, and we've survived. We're catching up to him.

     "What we have to do is figure out what he would do if Julian really *were* Vantika.
Then, we'll be able to catch him."

     "And what if Julian really is Vantika?"

     "He's not," Dax said, with absolute certainty in her voice.

     O'Brien wanted to believe it, but was afraid to. "What do you mean?"

     "I mean, that what Julian is suffering from is not possession by Vantika. I think that
what Malinka's device does is disrupt a person's brain, making them hallucinate, and
fragmenting their personality. 

     "The condition is called Multiple Personality Disorder. It sometimes occurs in small
children who have experienced a traumatic event that they can't deal with. They
compartmentalize the memory of the event and often create an "adult" personality that
guards the original personality whenever an external threat appears.

     "Adults can develop it, as well. One of the first symptoms is 'missing time.' Say that
you go to the holosuite for a couple of hours. Then, after you come out and go back to
your quarters, you can't remember where you went, what program you used, or what
you did in it. You don't actually become another person during that time; you just don't
retain any memory of it.

     O'Brien winced. "So, what you're saying is that Julian is crazy."

     Dax shook her head. "Ill, yes. Crazy? I'd say that he's no more 'crazy' than you were
after the Argrathi released you from prison. MPD is treatable. A strong personality like
Julian can overcome it, with help, and lead a stable, active life.

     "Unfortunately, as you and I just found out, MPD is very easy to induce through
incompetent and irresponsible psychotherapy methods, or direct neurological
manipulation. Malinka may be raising something inside Julian, but the personality is
Julian's own creation. He's created a Vantika persona to contain the memories he
retains from Vantika."

     O'Brien was confused. "But, if Vantika's really dead, why does Julian have some of
his memories?" 

     "I only excised the original glial cells that Vantika injected into Bashir," Dax
explained. "In order to take over Julian, Vantika had to have spread out into his brain.
When Vantika was inside Julian, he appears to have started to merge with Julian.
Julian's was the stronger personality, or Vantika wouldn't have had to lurk in the
shadows and put him to sleep when the time came to take over. Eventually, Julian
probably would have absorbed Vantika completely, but we got Vantika out first. So,
what's left are echoes of Vantika's presence in Julian's brain."
 
     "And Vantika's personality?" O'Brien asked.

     Dax shook her head. "That's gone--and it won't be back."

     "So," O'Brien slumped in his chair. "Julian isn't Vantika, he's just crazy."

     "And dangerous." Dax put a hand on O'Brien's shoulder. "But, Miles, how many
times have you and I been a little crazy--dangerous, even?"

     O'Brien rubbed his eyes. "Between the two of us? I couldn't say. Too many."

     "Right. And Julian's never let that stop him helping us. I'm not going to let this stop
me helping him. I owe him."

     O'Brien sighed. "I know. I owe him, too. I just wish this whole thing wasn't such a
mess."

     "I know the feeling, Miles, but if we don't help Julian finish this soon, there are going
to be a lot of dead people--and we'll likely be three of them."




     Bashir was still out cold when the hospital released Dax. O'Brien beamed himself
and Dax back to their hotel room, to save her the walk. Neither of them felt good about
leaving Bashir alone, but there wasn't much they could do about it. Dax's bed had
already been reassigned and the nurses on duty had made it very clear that Visiting
Hours were over for Bashir. If O'Brien and Dax protested too much they might attract
unwanted attention from the Filarian authorities.

     "Julian should be okay until he wakes up, Chief," Dax tried to reassure O'Brien as
they beamed into the hotel hallway. "Malinka wants an audience. Julian can't provide
that while he's still too drugged up to think."

     "I hope you're right, Commander," O'Brien replied. As he swiped the keycard to
open the door, he said, "If you're feeling up to it, Commander, why don't you try
tracking down Malinka again--JESUS CHRIST!"

     "What? What is it?" Dax peered over O'Brien's shoulder, and gasped. The room had
been torn apart.




     Bashir felt as if someone had been beating him--inside and out--for years. His head
ached; his eyes ached; his lungs ached. The only improvement in his condition was
that the hallucinations had finally stopped.

     The night nurse had been giving him medication on a hourly basis, but it only took
the edge off the pain. He drifted in and out of sleep, feeling nauseous and miserable.
God, he hated being sick, and he hated Malinka for putting him in this bed.

     The worst part was, he knew it wasn't over. Malinka had to die. Bashir had killed
before, in the heat of combat. He had heard the whispers at medical conventions--
about his enhancements, about the rumors that he had killed a Changeling
singlehandedly. They were hard to shut out. Bashir would wonder sometimes what
slick slope he had started down during his trip to the Alternate Universe. It frightened
him how much easier it became to kill with each new violation of his healer's oath.

    Still, that would not stop him from blowing Malinka's head off at the very first
opportunity.

     When Dax and O'Brien came for him, he was completely unsurprised. He heard
them enter his room, then Dax said softly, "Julian? Are you awake?"

     He opened his eyes. They both looked spooked. "What happened?" he asked.

     They glanced at each other, then took seats on either side of his bed. "Malinka paid
us a little visit," O'Brien said. "He left this."

     He held out a data PADD so that Bashir could read it.  It said: "I have your stuffed
toy. Meet me on Level C at Katarka Spaceport at fourteen hundred hours, or I'll send it
back to you in pieces." Fourteen hundred hours was high noon,  by Kobliad time.
Obviously, Malinka had been watching Terran westerns.

     Bashir was thankful for the drugs. Physically, he felt no reaction whatsoever. "Are
you sure he has Kukalaka?"

     O'Brien said, "We checked both the hotel room and the runabout. We can't find him
anywhere."

     "Can you walk?" Dax asked.

     Bashir smiled grimly. "I've got stimulants in my medkit. Get me out of here and I'll fly,
if necessary."

     "Is that safe?" O'Brien asked, looking concerned. Bashir silently thanked him for
that.

     Bashir shook his head. It made him see double. "No. It's not. But I  think Malinka's
gotten tired of waiting. If I don't show up on time, there'll be a lot more casualties than
one bear."

     "He's right, Chief," Dax said. "Level C is right over the check-in area for Customs. It's
a perfect place for Malinka to release the virus."

     "God." O'Brien ran his hand through his hair. "I just wish this was over."

    "It will be soon enough," Bashir said. "One way, or the other." Neither O'Brien nor
Dax seemed reassured.






Chapter Eight

     Level C was a maintenance level that overlooked the main level of the city. Bashir
and Dax materialized there, phasers drawn, at five minutes to fourteen hundred hours.
O'Brien had stayed in the runabout, to try and track Malinka, and to beam Dax and
Bashir out if necessary.

     "Check for any lifesigns," Dax said, pulling out her tricorder. "Malinka or otherwise.
We don't want anybody else getting in the way." Bashir nodded. He looked wobbly, but
determined.

     "How touching." They both turned at the voice. "And I thought you didn't care."
Malinka was standing just a few meters away. He held Kukalaka out with one hand.
With the other, he clutched a vial to his chest. His smile was incandescent.

     Dax glanced at Bashir. "Is that the virus?" she asked.

     Bashir nodded grimly. Dax aimed her phaser at Malinka, but didn't dare shoot. If the
Kobliad dropped the vial....They were at an impasse.

     Bashir started forward. Dax stopped him. "Wait. Let's just make sure he's real." She
aimed the tricorder at Malinka. It confirmed that the Kobliad scientist was really there.

     "I'm quite real, you know." Malinka giggled.

     Dax replaced her tricorder in its pocket. "Just making sure," she said. "I'd hate to
make the same mistake twice."

     Bashir aimed his phaser directly at Malinka's head. "Give me back my bear, you son
of a bitch."

     Dax stared at Bashir, remembering her pedantic prattle to O'Brien about multiple
personalities and childhood trauma, and realized that Malinka had dug up something
far deeper, and more dangerous, than Vantika. *This could get ugly,* she thought.

     "Julian," she said out loud. "Just stay calm."

     "The hell I will," Bashir snapped. He took a step forward. "Hand over the bear,
Malinka, or I'll blow your head off."

     "Now, Rao," Malinka cheerfully began. "There's no need to get upset--"

     Bashir shot him in the arm. Malinka cried out and dropped Kukalaka, but held on to
the vial. Bashir took aim again.

     "Julian, NO!" Dax shouted. She jumped at Bashir, knocking him to the ground.
Malinka turned and fled.

     Bashir shoved Dax off and got up, pointing his phaser at her. She froze. He swayed,
but stayed standing. Still aiming his phaser at Dax he staggered over to Kukalaka,
picked him up, then turned around and started off after Malinka. 

     Dax rolled to her feet, and followed. She was itching all over from the isobyron
radiation. Bashir must have been feeling the effects of his exposure, too. Yet, he was
ahead of her, moving faster than she expected. It must have been due to the miracle of 
stimulants. She considered stunning him, then decided it was too dangerous. It could
kill him. Damn, but it was irritating having a phaser and not being able to use it.

     Malinka slipped through a door ahead of them. Dax heard a soft, clear click just
before Bashir slammed into it. Dax, who had caught up to him, slid to a stop just in
time.

     Bashir bounced back, cursing savagely. His eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back
from his teeth in a distinctly unfriendly grin that had not a trace of his usual good
humor. He snarled at the door and pounded at its mechanism.

     "Maybe we can go around," Dax suggested.

     "There's *no time*," Bashir retorted. To Dax's horror, he ratcheted the phaser up to
level 12.

     "Julian, what're you... No! You'll-" Bashir blasted the door, drowning out Dax's
protest. He shot it again, making a hole big enough to walk through without touching
its molten edges.

     Dax knocked the phaser out of his hand. She grabbed him by the shoulders and
shook him, hard. "Julian, stop this before you hurt somebody!"

     Bashir turned the same look on her that he had given the door. "Get out of my way,"
he said.

     Dax had seen that look and heard that tone of voice--but never before had Bashir
directed it at her. She let go of his arms and got out of his way. Bashir scooped up the
phaser and went through the hole.

     Malinka had a head start on them. The corridor beyond the door was dim, despite
the clear space at the end of it. Fleeing, Malinka was silhouetted by the light. Dax
realized with sudden horror that the corridor ended over Customs at the same time that
she realized what Malinka intended. Bashir, it seemed, already knew; he ran faster.

     "Malinka!" he shouted. "Stop this, now!"

     "Malinka!" Dax echoed, but Malinka paid neither of them any heed. Rushing up the
corridor, he was brought up short by a force field. He pulled out a phaser and shot out
the field. Then, he swung around. A wild grin distorted his features. He brandished the
little vial of 16-7.

     Bashir skidded to a stop a few meters away. His face looked nearly as mad as
Malinka's. He raised the phaser, still set at level 12.

     "Julian, no!" Dax shouted. Bashir ignored her.

     "Give it up, Malinka," he said.

     Malinka laughed. He waved the vial over the Customs area as if making a
benediction over the crowd far below. It was mid-afternoon and the place was packed.

     "You can't frighten me, Vantika," Malinka taunted Bashir. "You can't shoot me. You'd
kill yourself as well." He tossed the vial up in the air-once, twice, caught it and--

     Bashir shot him.

     For a second, Malinka's astonished silhouette-and the silhouette of the little
vial--stood out in the bright glare. Then, they both vanished in a puff of smoke.

     Phaser still in hand, Bashir ran forward like a madman--waving the tricorder over
the area. Dax followed him. For a few tense moments, the intense heat made it nearly
impossible to discern if the virus had survived. As the heat faded, though, it became
clear that there was no trace of the virus left.






Epilogue

     O'Brien wanted to take them back to DS9 immediately, but Bashir was too
exhausted. He refused to go back to the hospital, however, so Dax suggested they go
back to the hotel.

     Dax helped him up to the room. Then, she beamed up to the runabout. She and
O'Brien were probably still trying to talk Starfleet Headquarters out of courtmartialing
the three of them, Bashir thought wearily--or putting him away.

     The first thing Bashir did, after Dax left, was to lie down on the bed in his jacket and
boots and stare at the ceiling. After a while, he decided to try and get up. He
desperately wanted a shower. He rolled over onto his stomach, then, after a little while,
found the energy to get up. He shuffled into the bathroom. Splashing water on his face
revived him enough to look in the mirror and....

     Rao Vantika grinned back at him.

     He woke up because someone was trying to rob him. He struggled until he heard
Dax say, "Take it easy!" She had gotten his shoes off and was working on his jacket.
He was still face down on the bed. He'd never even made it to the bathroom.
Impatiently, he shrugged off the jacket, leaving it in Dax's hands like a shed skin, and
lay back down.

     "You should eat something," Dax said. "I'll bet you're blood sugar levels are--"

     "Go away," Bashir said.

     He felt Dax's hand lightly stroke his hair. "Julian...It wasn't your fault. He didn't give
you any choice."
 
     He shoved her hand away and pulled a pillow over his head. "Go away. Let me
sleep."

     "You're not Vantika," she said, softly.

     He pulled the pillow off, rolled over, and looked up at her. "How can you tell?" She
was silent. "That's what I thought." He rolled  back onto his face. He heard her sigh in
frustration. But she was smart enough to know when to retreat. She went away.
Sometime later, she came back and put a blanket over him. Then, she left again and
he slept.

     When he opened his eyes, Jules was sitting in the chair next to the bed. He had his
arms wrapped around his knees, with his chin on Kukalaka. He watched Bashir with
big, unwavering eyes.

     Bashir raised himself on one elbow. "Jules?" he said softly, as though he might
scare the child away. "You came back."

     The child did not respond. It was as though he were waiting for something.

     Bashir said, "In the Academy, I read a story about a little boy who had a fever. It
started in one of his feet. Then, it spread. Wherever it went, he lost the use of that part
of his body. Some evil thing was taking over and he couldn't stop it. He tried to tell the
doctor and his parents, but they thought he was raving from the fever. Each day, it
took more and more, until one night it got up into his brain. He screamed as it snuffed
him out, but it was too late. By the time his parents got to the room, he had been
erased. In his place was an evil little boy who could kill with a touch.

     "That's what I feel like, like some malevolent thing that came in and shoved you
aside, so that I could have a life." His head was aching so badly, now, that when the
tears came, it was a relief. "It's as though I'm imitating someone who died years ago. I
don't feel real. If only we were connected somehow. If only there was something that I
remember you doing or thinking, something that I still do. Then, I wouldn't feel so
empty, like--like an Orb shadow or a hologram. I don't want to carry a dead little boy
inside me for the rest of my life."

     The boy stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. Then, he pulled Kukalaka from
under his chin, got up, and sat down on the bed next to Bashir. He put his head
against Bashir's ribs and laid the bear in his lap. Bashir looked down at the child.
Tentatively, he put an arm around the boy's shoulders. Jules hugged him harder.

     Bashir stared blankly down the bear, the toy that had been his best patient since his
fourth birthday. *When I was still Jules,* he thought. Finally, he understood. Hugging
the boy and the bear, he said, "The bear...This is my bear. *Our*  bear."

     The boy looked up at him and smiled suddenly, a sunny, innocent expression that
hurt Bashir to see it. *My smile,* he thought. He woke up.

     He was lying curled up on his side, clutching Kukalaka to his chest. Dax sat beside
the bed. She was stroking his hair. "What are you doing?" he said groggily.

     "You were having a dream," she said gently. "Are you okay?"

     He smiled at her. It was good to have friends, even crazy ones. "Not quite yet," he
admitted. "But, I will be."

     *We will be,* Vantika whispered.

     *Shut up,* Bashir told him, and Vantika did--for awhile.

END