Reflections, second section

Reflections
By Karen Dunn
Chapter Ten

A tangible hush had shrouded Ops at Baskell's announcement and every eye turned to the viewer as the face of their visitor snapped into focus.

Sisko wasn't sure what he was expecting to see. The Federation was a melting pot of different races, different faces, all as normal to him as his own. He had been privy to first contact on a very few occasions and each time had prepared himself not to react disrespectfully to the people he met.

When a very human looking male appeared on the screen he was almost disappointed.

The man had fair skin, light hair and narrow brown eyes. He seemed to be dressed in some kind of white tunic, trimmed with gold. What they could see of the ship behind him was sparse to say the least. He studied them for a long moment before speaking in clipped tones, "My name is Hern and I come with greetings from the Merchant Empire."

Sisko stepped forward, his hands at his side, "I am Captain Benjamin Sisko. Welcome to Deep Space Nine."

Hern nodded, "Thank you, Captain. We have come regarding a scoutship which found its way to your part of space..."

He had expected as much and was grateful at least that these people were not jumping to any unfortunate conclusions which could not be resolved in a friendly manner. He braced his shoulders, "Yes. I'm afraid the ship exploded shortly after it arrived."

Hern paused and Ops held its collective breath before the Merchant inclined his head and said, "I see."

Knowing more of an explanation was expected, Sisko seized the moment, "If you would care to dock at the station we can talk further."

The viewer flickered into static as Hern cut the connection and they waited in silence. Seconds later the picture returned and the man's ice chip eyes bored down on them, "Acceptable. Our ship will remain here. Prepare to receive a shuttle."

"Understood. Sisko out."

And the people in Ops heaved a sigh of relief. There would be no misunderstandings today. At least not yet.

It was Dax who spoke first, a slender eyebrow raised in amusement, "Abrupt, aren't they?"

"Arrogant is the word I'd use," muttered Baskell from his station, not realising how much his voice would carry in the virtual quiet and blushing as Sisko turned to him with a frown, "That's as maybe, Mr Baskell, but they are to be treated as guests."

"Yes sir." He lowered embarrassed eyes to his console. As life in Ops returned to normal, Sisko headed for the turbolift, "Dax, Andrews, let's go and greet our new arrivals. Baskell, explain the situation to Admiral James and the First Minister. Tell them I'll be in touch."

"Sir."

And the 'lift took them away.

***

The red wheel door of airlock 5 trundled back to reveal Hern and another man. They stepped across the threshold without a pause, glancing around them with an air of subdued disdain.

Sisko stepped forward, "Welcome to DS9, Mr Hern. May I present Commander Jadzia Dax and Ensign Jill Andrews."

Hern nodded down his nose at the two women and waved a vague hand at the man behind him, "My assistant. We will discuss our scoutship."

The Starfleet officers looked at one another in bewilderment, then the Captain remembered his manners and nodded, "We can speak in my office."

***

Now Hern sat at one side of the desk whilst Sisko sat at the other as Dax introduced the newcomers to the delights of raktajino.

Hern barely glimpsed at his mug whilst his assistant drank deeply and almost choked, excusing himself politely and declaring that it wasn't really to his taste.

Sisko instructed the computer to ready the files of the runabout explosion and turned to his guests, "When your ship came through the wormhole we tried to communicate, but we received no reply to our hails."

Hern shook his head with a small smile, "No. The ship was fully automated - used for exploration only."

"I'm relieved to hear it. We lost one of our own ships in a rescue attempt."

The dismay which played across the Merchant's face seemed to be genuine, though Dax mentally noted that the man's body language did not change, "I'm sorry. We had no idea the scout would encounter intelligent life. This is most unfortunate."

She stepped forward, "Actually, we have evidence which suggests our ship may have been dragged back to your space."

Surprise replaced concern before settling on neutral inquiry, "You do?"

She called to the computer to play back her findings at a speed slow enough to discern, and they all watched events play themselves out once more on the screen on Sisko's desk.

As the explosion died, Hern leant forward in his chair, his voice a whisper, "So that's the cause. What is that?"

"It's a stable wormhole." She flicked the screen closed, drawing their attention back to her face, "We thought at first that the scout was a visitor from the Gamma Quadrant. Then we discovered your 'tunnel'"

He smiled at her, a tolerant smile much like a teacher would turn on a slow but promising pupil, "It is called a breach. A very economical way to travel from place to place. Unfortunately without designated co-ordinates, the opening is completely random. That is why scout ships are unmanned. It guards against loss of life in accidents such as this."

Sisko was watching the man closely, still unsure what to make of him, "Then you had no intention of arriving inside the wormhole?"

"None at all. The scout sent back the co-ordinates and data it had retrieved on its journey. The readings told us that it had been damaged and we followed to see what had happened."

"Why wasn't your ship damaged?" asked Dax and Hern shrugged, "Oh, scouts have very weak hulls and little shielding. Our ship is much stronger."

She looked to Sisko for a moment and he read the question in her eyes and nodded, "What about the runabout?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Our ship." She said a little too eagerly, "Could it have made it to the other side?"

Hern let his shoulders slump, shaking his head, "I very much doubt it. I'm sorry, but nothing came through. It couldn't have survived."

Dax opened her mouth but no sound would come as she gazed at the stranger before her. To have the rug pulled from beneath her feet again was too much to bare and she knew she had to get out of sight before her feelings let her down. Benjamin would have another reason to be angry with her, but she would face him later.

She pushed herself away from the desk as Curzon tried to calm her, "Take it slow, girl, the door's not going anywhere." Then muttering a quick, "Excuse me" she left Sisko's office before he could stop her.

For a moment all was silence as they watched the doors close behind the departing woman, then Hern cleared his throat, "Captain Sisko, I apologise for your loss. Our only intention is to make friends."

He nodded, dragging his mind away from Dax and the difficult times he guessed were ahead, "As is ours, Hern. Won't you both stay and enjoy a little of our hospitality?"

"That is much appreciated."

He led the two men out into Ops and approached the central table where Kladzi was busy working, "My first officer, Colonel Kladzi, will see to your needs."

Hern nodded, "Thank you, Captain." then peered down his nose at the big Bajoran, "Take us to your nearest inn. We are thirsty."

For a second, Kladzi glowered at Sisko, resenting to his core that he had been assigned baby sitting duties. Then he stood with a slight bow to his two charges, said, "This way, gentlemen." and led them to the turbolift.

The Captain tapped his Security Chief on the shoulder and gestured towards the Merchants, "Go with them, Andrews, keep an eye on things. Quark's is the perfect place to ruin diplomatic relationships. Especially new ones."

"Yes sir."

Then he returned to his office to think things through.

***

No-one in Quark's looked up as the little group entered, Kladzi ushering Hern through the throng of alien drinkers to a secluded table in the corner behind the Dabo wheels. Visitors to the station were nothing new and, as long as they paid their way and kept out of trouble, they would be left alone.

At the bar, Quark was deep in conversation with a Bolian, the man's split blue face creased in concentration as the little Ferengi displayed the remaining smoky green crystals and filled his already oft drained glass.

"Where did you get them?"

Quark chuckled, "That's not important, friend. What is important is that they are the only two Blood Crystals to be found outside of Vulcan and you can have them for a mere eight bars of latinum a piece."

The Bolian frowned, "Eight bars? I don't know, Quark, that's a bit steep."

The Ferengi picked up one of the stones and placed it in his potential customer's hand, trying his best to coax a decision out of him, "But think of the profit you'll make when you sell them back to the Vulcans!"

The man toyed with his drink a little unsteadily as the real alcohol began to seep through his stout metabolism, "But they'll want to know where I got them."

"They'll be so pleased to have them back that they won't even think to ask."

The Bolian turned the crystal over in his hand, transfixed by the way the gaudy lights of the bar reflected through its many faceted surface and Quark could feel a grin building as the man reached for his credit pouch.

Then an all too familiar voice called to him from across the room, "Quark!" and he looked up to see Andrews pushing through the crowd towards him. And she did not look happy.

With a squeak of terror he snatched the crystal from the still frowning Bolian and slammed it, its double and his fingers in the drawer beneath the bar, "Security Chief Andrews" he cried as the Bolian looked at first him, then the approaching officer and beat a hasty retreat, "What can I do for you this time."

She looked curiously at him as he sucked his throbbing fingers, "Colonel Kladzi has a delegation of visitors over there who would like some drinks."

A confused mixture of annoyance and relief took his mind from the pain in his hand. She was not out to get him and had still managed to scupper a lucrative business deal, "And he sent you to fetch them? Something of a comedown, don't you think?"

She glowered, "Just bring your order padd and get over there."

He followed her back across the room towards the furthest table, "So who are they?"

"What?"

He tapped at the padd, "These delegates. Who are they?"

She eased past a gaggle of giggling Betazoid students, "They call themselves Merchants. They're the owners of the ship that blew up outside the wormhole."

Quark glanced back towards the bar, wondering how safe his precious crystals were now that their owners had arrived, then turned to his new customers with his most toothy smile, "Gentlemen! Always a pleasure to welcome new customers. I am Quark, your host, here to see to your drinking and gambling needs. What'll it be?"

Hern looked up at him in mild disinterest, "You run this tavern?"

"I own this tavern." The Merchant reached into his tunic and tossed a gold coin to the grinning Ferengi. Quark caught it automatically and tested it with his teeth before slipping it into his pocket, "And anything you need will be yours."

"We would try a carafe of your finest ale."

He tapped a few keys on the order padd, "Coming right up."

The next hour passed with interminable slowness for Jill Andrews. Kladzi and Hern downed jug after frothing jug of ale and talked about everything from women to ship design, whilst she, at Kladzi's order, stood to ridged attention behind the table and waited.

From what she could gather from the increasingly slurred conversation taking place before her, the Merchants had had some kind of space travel for many centuries, though lack of resources had made their progress slow. Kladzi, his tongue a little too loose with the effect of alcohol had promised that Bajor and the Federation would be more than willing to open up trade negotiations which would be beneficial to both parties. It was at that point that she had stopped listening, allowing her attention to stray.

A hand on her arm made her jump and she found herself face to face with Hern's assistant. He frowned, "I apologise. I did not mean to startle you."

She looked him up and down. He seemed very young to be carrying the burden of first contact. But then, he was probably thinking the same thing about her, "That's okay. I should have been paying attention."

He smiled, "It is just that I have a question."

"Go on."

"I am curious. What kind of ship is that?"

Andrews followed his gaze and saw a goliath of a ship coming in on thrusters to dock at one of the upper pylons, its glowing engines clearly visible through the windows of the upper Promenade, "That's the USS Hercules, a Steamrunner class starship."

He raised an eyebrow, "It looks powerful."

She smiled, remembering the awe she had felt when the specs for the ship were first made available for viewing, "She certainly is. She can sustain a steady warp 9.5 over distance, has quantum pulse torpedoes and dual rotating metaphasic shields."

There was a scraping of chair legs as Hern looked up and pushed himself to his feet for a better view, struggling with the words, unable to get his somewhat tipsy tongue round them, "Dual rotating..?"

"Metaphasic shields. You could land on the surface of a star and they would hold out."

He took one last look at the ship as its tail end disappeared from view, "Impressive. It's a shame your Amazon wasn't equipped with them, not to mention our scoutship." And he sat down again, a little too quickly.

Scowling openly at Andrews until she returned to attention, Kladzi picked up the jug of ale and refilled the Merchant's glass, determined to bring the conversation back in line, "Indeed. But we're not here to ponder over what might have been."

And the day plodded on.

Andrews let her gaze bore into the back of Kladzi's head, allowing a string of unpleasant fates for the Colonel to play themselves out in her mind. She could think of a thousand and one things she would rather be doing instead of standing here. Hell, she could think of a thousand and one things she would usually run a mile from but would make an exception for rather than be standing here. She had crime reports to file, security rotations to monitor and she should really drop in to Dax's quarters and make sure the scanner was returned to geology before some-one reported it missing.

She let her mind wander back over the events of the last few days. She had been catapulted from deputy to acting Chief of Security in the blink of an eye and had wished aloud every evening that Bajor would send her replacement the next day. If she thought about it, the abruptness of events was the only thing stopping her from surrendering to total panic and she was quietly proud of the progress she had made.

If she could just survive guard duty for the station's tipsy first officer she would seek out Martin Baskell and drag him off to Quark's for a self confident drink or two. And while they were there, they could drink to absent friends and finally, reluctantly bury the ghosts from the Amazon which had been haunting the station for far too long.

The Amazon...?

She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, then let her gaze settle on Hern as he drank to yet another toast. Something was not right...

She stepped forward and tapped Kladzi on the shoulder, "Colonel, can I speak to you?"

He looked up at her with ill concealed impatience, "Not now, Ensign."

"Colonel, it's important."

With an apologetic smile to his guests, Kladzi pushed back his chair and stood up, taking her arm and steering her none too gently out of earshot, "Make it quick."

She pulled herself free and considered the man scowling before her, wondering how she was to broach the topic that was niggling at her mind. That he did not like her was obvious to everyone, but she had no real reason to doubt that he knew where his duties lay. She jumped in with both feet, "How did he know the name of the runabout?"

He almost laughed, "What?"

He was halfway drunk, so she let his incredulity slide and spoke as slowly as she dared without sounding sarcastic, "He said it's a shame our Amazon didn't have better shields. How did he know that the runabout was called the Amazon?"

"Some-one must have mentioned it."

She had thought of that - had gone over the conversations of the day in her head more than once, "No. No, they haven't. I've been with him all the time and no-one has called it by name."

With a renewed pang of excitement she knew she was right. There had been no mention of the runabout's call sign. Not here and not in Ops. The Merchants must have seen the little ship on the other side of their breach. Which meant that it had survived the explosion. Which meant that Odo and the others were alive. Which meant..."Ensign, we don't have time for this nonsense."

She gaped at him, unable to believe that he was dismissing what she had told him. He made to return to the table, but she snatched him back by the arm, almost causing him to over balance, and matched his hostile glare with one of her own, "Nonsense! Colonel, they may have been lying to us from the outset. We have to find out what they know about our people."

He took a step closer, "You will drop the subject, Ensign Andrews and that is an order. You will not disrupt a diplomatic occasion just because you feel bitter at being put on report. Is that clear?"

"You've got to be kidding..."

He curled his lip and straightened up, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "Is that clear?"

And she knew in an instant that this man had no concept of duty, did not care what happened outside of his control and would not lift one finger to help her. She let her head drop lest he see the inferno of anger spreading across her face and whispered, "Yes, sir."

A discrete cough from behind them revealed Hern and his assistant as they watched the exchange cautiously. The Merchant gave an embarrassed smile, "I'm sorry to interrupt, Colonel, but we really should be returning to our ship. Your hospitality has been impeccable, but we are expected home."

Kladzi nodded, "Of course, Hern, of course. I apologise for this..."

He waved a benevolent hand, "Think nothing of it. A leader of men has many unfortunate responsibilities. We should pay our respects to your Captain."

And he turned and walked from the bar, his assistant in tow. Kladzi stepped in front of Andrews as she made to follow, "We will discuss your conduct later."

She didn't grace him with a reply, but caught up with the Merchants and called a turbolift to take them all to Ops.

***

A further hour spent at attention passed and Andrews vowed silently that from now on she would delegate when it came to escort duty. She had a crick in her back that would take forever to ease and her feet, in those damned uncomfortable military issue boots, were aching.

They had made the short trip to Ops in uncomfortable silence and Kladzi had led them straight into Sisko's office. If the Captain noticed the air of tension between his first officer and security chief he made no comment, just shook hands with the two Merchants and began yet another bout of small talk.

Jill stood in front of the doors and pondered her situation. Sisko had long passed the end of his tether when it came to the runabout situation and she was already on report for her part in the past few days' play. For just a moment he had been ready to believe that there was hope and then had those hopes dashed with Hern's declaration that the little ship had not survived. She had watched his face fall at the news and knew that broaching the subject now was liable to get her into more trouble than she cared to think about.

But she knew Hern was not telling the whole truth and, though Kladzi had proven to be as shallow as she feared, Sisko was a man of honour who cared deeply for those in his charge. He would surely listen.

Hern reached across the desk and shook hands with the Captain once more, then rose as if to leave, "Once again may I say we are deeply distressed that our people had to meet under such tragic circumstances. We hope our friendship will be a long and prosperous one."

Sisko smiled, "On behalf of the Federation and Bajor, we return the sentiment and invite you to share in our hospitality whenever you wish."

They were leaving. She didn't know whether they had heard what she said to Kladzi in Quark's, but she got the distinct feeling that if she let them go now, they would never return. Taking her career in her hands she stepped forward and addressed Sisko, "Excuse me, sir."

He raised an eyebrow, "Andrews?"

She could see Kladzi glaring at her from the corner of her eye and swallowed, hoping to God that she was doing the right thing, "I have a question for Mr Hern."

The Colonel let out a low growl, "Ensign, I'm warning you..."

"I was talking to the Captain..."

Sisko frowned and turned to his first officer, "Kladzi, what's going on?"

He sniffed dismissively, "It seems our new Security Chief can't stomach being disciplined herself."

How dare he..? "That's not true! I just have to ask..."

Kladzi waved her away, "You are dismissed, Ensign."

This wasn't going right and she gave up any pretence at protocol in an open plea, "Captain, please. I need to ask..."

Hern coughed and raised his hands in an embarrassed gesture of concern, "This seems to be an internal matter, Captain Sisko. We should leave." And the Captain actual glared at her, silently ordering her to shut the hell up.

With a final desperate effort she stepped up to the Merchant and shouted in his face as Kladzi moved to pull her away, "HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT OUR LOST RUNABOUT WAS CALLED THE AMAZON!!"

And there was silence.

Sisko gazed long and hard at her and sat back down in his seat. The two Merchants looked at one another before Hern said, "I beg your pardon?"

She looked to the Captain, not willing to go on alone, hoping he would take up the baton and continue the charge. But he nodded at her and left her centre stage, "Go ahead, Ensign."

She pulled herself up to her full height and looked Hern in the eye, "In Quark's just now you commented that it was a shame 'your Amazon' didn't have better shields. How did you know the name Amazon. No-one even mentioned it."

With a snort of laughter he turned away from her, appealing to Sisko like a close friend, "Captain, please, of what are we being accused?"

But Sisko was having none of it. He sat stock still and returned Hern's gaze impassively, "Would you answer the question."

The Merchant opened his mouth to speak, but found himself struggling for words. His assistant stepped in front of him in an attempt to cover his superior's shortcomings and focused on the only ally he had in the room, Kladzi, "I believe the Ensign has made an honest mistake. The name of your unfortunate craft was mentioned on many occasions." He gave a disarming smile, "Your Captain used it himself during our initial conversation."

Kladzi nodded and turned to Sisko, but the Captain silenced him with a wave of the hand, "Computer. Access security files pertaining to transmissions between Ops and the Merchant vessel at docking port 5 and all conversations in Ops since said vessel's arrival.."

The computer chirped, "Files accessed."

"Scan files for any mention of the word 'Amazon'."

The reply was instantaneous, "No mention of the word 'Amazon' was made."

And Kladzi stepped back and didn't say a word. Sisko stood slowly and walked up to Hern, towering above the smaller man, his tone low and measured, "I would like an explanation."

The arrogance that had been bubbling beneath the surface since his ship had arrived, burst forth and Hern scowled up at him, "Captain, I don't like your tone..."

Sisko didn't take his eyes off the man, glaring into him like the devil himself as he spoke to the nervous looking Andrews, "Ensign, place Mr Hern and his colleague under arrest and escort them to Security."

He believed her! Thank God, the Prophets and any other deities who happened to be watching - she had been right. She wanted to run down to the habitat ring and tell Dax that the last few days had all been worthwhile. They would have a chance to get their people back and this time everyone was on their side. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she pulled her phaser, and her voice shook, "Yes, sir." She stepped aside and waited for her two prisoners to precede her out the door, "This way, gentlemen."

***

Sisko watched as the doors to his office closed behind the young Security Chief and her two charges then hit his comm. badge, "Sisko to Baskell."

"Go ahead."

"Lock down the docking clamps on the Merchant vessel. They're not to leave without my express permission."

"Understood."

And he moved on to other matters. Kladzi was standing at attention in front of his desk, waiting to be dismissed. He took a moment to compose himself before looking up at his first officer. First officer...that was a joke. The man was a liability. Incompetent at best, Sisko harboured suspicions that he was wilfully malicious when it came to things he did not agree with. Things like green Ensigns standing in as Chief of Security.

When he finally looked up, he made no effort to hide the displeasure in his eyes, "Colonel Kladzi. A word, please."

"Sir, I apologise for the disruption to the meeting..."

He had given him his chance. He had tried to push all thoughts of Kira and the way they gelled professionally to the back of his mind. He had tried to accept that different people worked in different ways. The fact that he did not actually like the man had not made things easy. He held up a hand and stopped him in his tracks, a pent up fury boiling within him, "Can I take it, Colonel, that Andrews voiced her concerns to you regarding the Merchants before you entered this office?"

"Yes, sir, but..."

He slowed his breathing. Calm down, "And how did you act on her information?"

Kladzi had the good grace to squirm, "Captain, Andrews' approach to the matter was inappropriate..."

He sounded like a schoolboy caught in the middle of some act of adolescent rebellion and desperately trying to pass the blame when his courage failed, Sisko despised him for it, "Inappropriate?"

"There are ways of doing things..."

This coming from a man who had done his level best to tip the usually ordered station routine on its head. The Captain leapt to his feet, eyes blazing, "Enough! You have been on her back since the moment you arrived. You have gone out of your way to make her life a misery and you have contributed very little to the running of this station during a difficult time." He rounded his desk and glowered down at the man, "You, Colonel, are a poor excuse for a first officer and, should our people be returned to us alive, I will take the greatest pleasure in personally kicking your ass all the way back to Bajor."

"How dare..."

He didn't pause, didn't acknowledge the red fury colouring the man's cheeks, "You have repeatedly questioned the competence of Major Kira, you have given free reign of the station to a Ferengi con artist and I consider it a personal insult that the Provisional Government deemed you suitable to fill this position. Get out!"

If it had been Kira standing in front of him she would have hesitated, would have glared at him one last time before turning on her heel and taking a dignified walk back to her station. Either that or, if she felt particularly hard done by, she would have squared up to him and matched his fury with some of her own, doing verbal battle until some-one in Ops called Security for fear that their commanding officers were about to kill one another.

It was the way it had always been and he would have expected nothing less.

Kladzi didn't even look at him, just turned tail and fled. As the office doors closed, Sisko just glimpsed him heading for the turbolift. Escaping.

He took a moment to compose himself, then left Ops and headed for Security.

*****

Down in Security, Andrews was at her desk, tapping intently at a data padd, but she leapt to her feet when Sisko walked in. He smiled and waved her away, still unused to her cadet level expressions of respect, "As you were Ensign."

She sat down and quickly finished her work, "Yes, sir. I take it you're here to see the Merchants."

He nodded, "How are they behaving?"

A shrug, "It's been a while since I've arrested anyone as arrogant as Hern, but otherwise no problem." She got up once more, "I'll take you to them." But he stopped her with a touch on the arm and she looked up at him with a questioning frown, "Sir?"

"I just wanted to say 'good work', Ensign. The last few days can't have been easy for you and you have conducted yourself admirably."

Jill beamed, feeling better than she had in a long while, "Thank you, sir."

He nodded, "I'd better have a talk with our guests."

Andrews had placed Hern and his assistant in the same holding cell. The head Merchant was draped across the only bunk, leaning back on one arm like an Emperor at a feast, whilst his assistant stood at his feet, awaiting orders. When Sisko entered he snapped to attention whilst Hern merely looked down his nose at the Captain and stifled a yawn, "Captain, I don't appreciate being locked up like this..."

"And I don't appreciate being lied to by people who claim to be our friends." Sisko sat down at the table in the middle of the room, "Now, I'll say this once and only once. Tell us how to open the breach and where to find our colleagues and I will let you go."

Hern raised an amused eyebrow, "And if I refuse?"

"Then I will turn you over to the Dominion and let you explain to them why you are holding one of their gods captive."

The Merchant paused then shrugged, "And who are the Dominion?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

He looked at his assistant with a puzzled frown and Sisko knew exactly what they were thinking. They had expected questions, interrogation, threats which were clearly understood by both sides. In one sentence he had done two things. He had presented an unknown quantity to Hern which spoke of dark times ahead for him and his kind. He had introduced a new team to the game. That Hern had not recognised the name Dominion told him that these people were probably from neither the Alpha Quadrant nor the Gamma Quadrant.

He kept his gaze impassive, fixed unflinching on the face of his prisoner and waited.

Hern bared his mental claws once more and drew on his consummate arrogance to hurl his remaining ammunition. The ice in his eyes and voice had crippled the arguments of lesser men, "Captain, I am not used to being threatened in this manner."

But Sisko was on home ground and never the lesser man, "Get used to it."

For the first time since the Captain had entered, Hern slid off of the bunk and walked to the forcefield separating them, hands held out in supplication, "Really, Captain, if we could just talk this over like civilised beings..."

"I'm listening."

"Perhaps a little food and wine would help. We've had a long trip..."

Sisko turned on his heel and barked, "Andrews!"

She would never admit to listening at the door, but was at his side in record time, "Yes, sir?"

"No food, no wine and no visitors until further notice. Is that understood?"

She nodded, "Yes. Sir."

"I'll be in docking bay 5 should they become chatty."

She followed him out of the detention area as Hern finally dropped his supercilious cloak and revealed the panicked man underneath, bellowing after them like just another drunk, "Captain, this is outrageous. How dare you treat us like this. How *dare* you..."

The door hissed shut, cutting off his protests and Andrews grinned up at her commanding officer, "I think you've annoyed them, sir."

Sisko raised an eyebrow and grinned right back, "I hope so, Ensign, I really hope so."

*****

The door had chimed twice before he heard Dax's tired voice call, "Enter." And when it whooshed open to the half lit gloom of her quarters, Sisko sighed heavily.

Although she was still technically relieved of duty he had fully expected her to talk him into allowing her to hang around Ops. She had been almost her old self when breaking the news of the discovery of the second wormhole and a possible way through, and he had been delighted to see the old spark dancing in her eyes. Then Hern had declared that there was no way the runabout had survived, that no sign of it had been found on his side of the breach and she had abandoned Ops before he could stop her. With a silent prayer to the Prophets that he wasn't going to lose her again, he stepped into the room and said, "Computer, lights."

She was sitting cross legged on her sofa with a sad smile on her face and a glass of something lethal-looking in her hand. She nodded to him, "Captain."

"Dax?"

She stretched forward and placed the glass on the coffee table, "Don't look so worried, Benjamin."

"Do I have reason to look worried?"

Jadzia smiled and shook her head, "No." She looked at the glass, "Just saying goodbye."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, anticipating a pep talk of some fashion and not quite sure whether she could face one. She stretched her long legs and slid from the sofa, "So how are our new guests?"

He smiled, "Angry."

"Angry?"

"I've had them placed in a holding cell."

A frown, "Why?"

"I'll tell you on the way to docking bay 5. Get your shoes."

She reached behind the sofa and tugged on her boots, scowling up at him in mock annoyance, "Benjamin, you're being deliberately secretive."

***

He had insisted on walking all the way to the docking ring, breaking the news of Hern's deception to her on the way. By the time they arrived she was grinning from ear to ear like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.

They stopped at the airlock and he gazed intently at her, "So there you have it. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you closer, Old Man."

She shook her head, "No you're not."

"I..."

The hand on his arm belonged to Jadzia, but the voice was all Dax. All maternal/paternal concern and wisdom as she looked into his soul with ageless eyes, "Benjamin, I was way out of line. I gave you little choice and if you had listened to me with the evidence I put before you, you would not be the Captain you are." She gave his arm a squeeze and smiled, "And you know that."

This was more like it. This was the Dax he had loved and relied on for more years than he cared to admit. He drew her into a tight hug, "I'm just sorry we had to disagree over something this important."

"Apology accepted." She pulled away, "Now what do you want me to do?"

He thought back to Hern and his expression of smug arrogance. As much as he would like to knock him from here to kingdom come until he gave them the answers they needed, he knew he couldn't do so. They needed an ace in the hole, something to tide them over, "The Merchants aren't being very forthcoming with information. I need you to go over that ship and work out how to activate this breach they mentioned."

She nodded, "I'd been thinking about that already. I'm still convinced that the crystals Andrews confiscated from Quark are the key. I'll conduct a scan of the ship and see if they have any on board." A shrug, "It'll give us a springboard to start from."

He patted her arm and turned away to let her work, "Keep me informed, Old Man."

She entered the ship and took a quick look around before calling, "Computer, scan the vessel at docking port 5 for traces of the compound stored in file Dax-alpha-1-8-7."

The computer chirruped in response and she waited patiently until it announced, "Compound is present on the vessel."

Jadzia let a delighted grin ignite across her face, "I told you."

*"What did you tell me?"*

"We're going to get them back."

Curzon chuckled softly.

To be continued in Part 11

Reflections
By Karen Dunn
Chapter Eleven

With a grunt of pain, Marius clamped his eyes shut against the glaring light, pushed himself up off the bed and stood up. A wave of dizziness rocked him hard, but he kept his feet and slowly opened his eyes.

He had expected to wake up in the after life. The wound inflicted by the deviant had been deep and the blood loss extensive and as consciousness faded he had made his peace with the Creator.

The sight that greeted him, though, was not the afterlife - at least not the afterlife he had been raised to expect. He was in a bright white room with windows set into each wall looking out onto corridors with no end. The bed he was now standing next to was softer than any he had slept on before and the room was littered with technological miracles which only the Merchants could possibly have created.

He took a deep breath as he allowed his eyes to travel over each and every piece of equipment. A niggling ache reminded him of his wound and he lifted the hem of his tunic to take a look at his side. It was swathed in heavy bandages and was tender to the touch, but there was no blood and he could move with little discomfort.

He was alive.

He sat down heavily on the bed and held his head in his hands, "Sweet Creator."

A voice behind him made him jump, "Hello, Marius, " and he turned to find an old man smiling down at him. Dressed in beautiful flowing robes of a white material that matched his timeless hair, he could only be a Merchant and Marius fell to his knees with a hiss, "Lord..."

The old man frowned, "Oh, please don't kneel, young man, it puts a terrible strain on my neck having to stare down at you all the time."

Marius got slowly to his feet, his wide eyes never leaving the man's face, "Forgive me."

The Merchant nodded and reached into his robe, pulling a stubby metal device from the folds and pressing it to the overseer's neck. It beeped loudly and Marius jumped back with a yell of alarm, "What...?"

There was an exaggerated sigh, "Come now, you have long been aware of the wonders we create."

Marius stood his ground, despising the fear which had flooded his face, hating the fact that he had no control over his situation. Inside the walls of Caspii, his word was law - he could do anything he chose and no-one would dare question him. Here, he was frightened as a child. He swallowed hard and held his head high, "You took me by surprise. I do not fear you."

The old man chuckled, "I'm pleased to hear it." He studied the device closely and nodded in satisfaction, "You heal very quickly, young man. I'm actually impressed."

Marius allowed his hand to touch the bandages swaddling his side. Little pain and no blood, though he could almost feel the chill of metal as it tore into his flesh, could almost see the hate in the eyes of the deviant as she let his blood soak her hand. He closed his eyes, "I should be dead."

There was a rude snort and he looked at his companion, "Believe me, we considered letting you die. Your incompetence has scaled new heights."

He should have known. Despite his innocuous, grandfatherly appearance, this man was a Merchant and thought nothing of the people outside of the palace. Less than nothing. His wounds had been tended, his health restored and he was fleetingly grateful even as the familiar gut wrenching nerves kicked in as he faced his superior, "I can explain..."

The man didn't even look at him as he returned the instrument to his hidden pocket, "I'm sure you can," his tone was calm, pleasant, somewhat like a parent explaining to a child why an upcoming punishment was necessary and better for all in the long run, "but you'll explain to Taren, not to me."

Marius blanched, "The High Lord?"

"That's right."

He backed away a little too rapidly and collided with the bed, scrambling behind it with graceless haste. Had any of the inmates of Caspii been watching, they would have felt a deep satisfaction that the bully who had made their lives hell for so long was reacting so badly to his own personal demons, "I can't speak to the High Lord - he'll kill me."

The old man rounded the bed and took him gently by the arm, his grip, Marius found, completely unbreakable. He led the overseer to the door and smiled at him, "If he wanted you dead, we would not be speaking now. Come. He's waiting for you."


***

Taren, The High Lord of the Merchants, uncurled his slender form from its almost foetal sleeping position and stretched luxuriantly along the chaise longue with an exaggerated yawn. In his youth, he had been considered exceptionally handsome - a beautiful prize often sought after by the young women of his home world - but time and the elements had been harsh. As he entered his forties his thinning hair had taken on flecks of grey; not distinguished grey as so many men wore with pride, but patchy old man grey. His wife had died some years ago and now even the peasant women of this backward world only came to him for the riches he had to offer.

He was a prematurely old man whose body wanted nothing more than to sleep its remaining years away in comfort.

Not that Taren's pride would admit it - even to himself.

As Merchants went, he was almost laid back. He rarely met any of the indigenous population, never went to the Arena for the games and left most of the political decisions to his aides. He allowed fear of his name to spread and fester, just as fear of his father and grandfather had kept the populace in line. He was a figurehead. Last in a long line of figureheads who may have once had some real power, though few could remember why it was relinquished. With no legitimate heir to the title, the post of High Lord would become one of rank and not birth.

This fact bothered Taren more than anyone thought and he planned to rectify matters as soon as possible. If things went well...

Sliding off the couch, he left his chamber and walked the corridor to his office.

Had someone from twentieth century Earth been present, they would have commented that the room looked like a strange mixture of Ancient Greek luxury and the air traffic control HQ at Gatwick Airport. The centre was dominated by a huge bank of consoles and a single oversized radar screen, the green lights and spinning sensors bleeping quietly to themselves.

The rest of the room was all spacious opulence; low seats overlooking the vast windows and the grounds beyond - the forest edging up almost cautiously to the gates. Fans and tapestries adorned the walls as ivy-like plants snaked to the ceiling, rooting themselves in every nook they could find. The floors were of bare stone, decorative rugs scattered here and there.

At the console sat another figure, an almost young man, his face creased in a permanent frown as he studied the radar closely, taking notes on a pad of paper before him. As Taren entered he leapt to his feet and bowed deeply, "Lord."

Taren waved him away with a click of the tongue, "As you were, Garus." He stood at the man's shoulder and peered at the readings, "Are they on the move yet?"

"Oh, definitely." Garus frowned at the screen, "They worked it out very quickly. I didn't expect them for at least another hour."

"And you're certain they're coming here?"

He nodded absently, scribbling furiously, as the bleep on the radar moved another inch forward, "I'd say there's nowhere else for them to go."

Taren wandered across the room and plucked a grape from one of the many overflowing fruit bowls dotted around the place, "Finally. And what about the craft?"

"I had it moved to the hanger. It's in a bit of a mess."

The High Lord shrugged, "I'm sure our visitors will be able to show us how to effect repairs."

Garus paused, chewing the end of his pencil in thoughtful consideration as he leant back in his chair and looked directly at Taren for the first time, "Where do you think they came from, Lord?"

Taren popped another grape into his mouth, "I don't know, Garus, I really don't know. But they're alone and in possession of knowledge that could make us very rich indeed."

"What if they refuse to help?"

The High Lord almost laughed, "After spending time with that idiot Marius I would think they're eager to go home."

Garus nodded and leant towards the radar once more, "I suppose..." his console beeped and he frowned at the readout, "Speaking of which, Lord. He's on his way."

Without a word, Taren walked over to one of the many couches and stretched out across it with catlike grace, his flint grey eyes riveted on the door. There was a cautious knock and he let out a harsh, "Enter!"

At the tone of the High Lord's voice, Marius almost fled, but his companion's grip was steady and he found himself propelled into the room and the door closing behind him. He had never been allowed near this part of the palace before, but his brain refused to allow him the luxury of taking in details as his superstitious eyes fell on Taren and a myriad horror stories from childhood nightmares crowded in on him.

He executed a painful bow, his hand clamped to his aching side, "My Lord."

Taren allowed a scowl to creep across his face as he looked the man up and down, "Are you a complete idiot, Marius?" The overseer swallowed, unsure what to say and Taren slid off the couch and walked over to him, towering above the smaller man, "Caspii has been running since before the town was built and never - *never* - has there been a fiasco of this scale. Prisoners do *not* escape from Caspii. Prisoners do *not riot* in Caspii. It is *your* job to see that there is order." He thrust his face into Marius's with a growl, "Isn't it?"

Marius pulled himself up to his full height. If he was to die, he would not go out whimpering, "Lord, the deviant..."

Taren snorted, "Oh, yes. The deviant." He returned to the couch and lay down again, pulling another grape from the bunch and examining it closely, "Think back, Marius. Think back to the day the deviant and her friend arrived at Caspii." He nibbled at the fruit before swallowing it whole, "Do you remember what you were told when we sent them to you?"

Marius nodded, "You wanted them broken."

"Exactly. We wanted them broken." He picked up a goblet of wine and drained it, "Whittled down. Defenceless." And hurled the empty cup at Marius, who only just ducked in time, the few remaining droplets of red liquid shattering against his skin like drops of blood, "We did *not* want them executed at dawn! What the *hell* did you think you were doing?"

Marius held his ground with great difficulty, "I apologise, Lord, but the deviant made things difficult. Refusing to kill an opponent in the Arena...her attitude...I was in danger of losing face..."

"And instead of that you almost lose your life and I am forced to cull virtually every inmate."

"I..."

Taren slid off the couch again and walk to the window, gazing out on the forest, "You lost your temper, Marius. That's all there is to it."

"Yes, sir."

He turned and smiled, "I should have you killed."

The overseer said nothing. The High Lord was well known for his fondness of games - his delight in making opponent and colleagues alike squirm before him as they waited to see which way his seesaw temper would fall. He stood now, with his head bowed, waiting for the axe to fall.

A knock at the door broke the moment and he let out a sigh of relief.

A hassled looking woman entered, her viridian robes dusting the floor as she bowed low before Taren and handed him a wad of papers. He tossed them to the waiting Garus without even glancing at them and looked down his nose at her, "Well?"

She stared right back at him, "The alien vessel has been taken to the main hanger and we've been over it several times." She shook her head, "Nothing. *Our* computers don't understand *their* computers and I have no idea whether they are anywhere near compatible." She retrieved the papers from Garus and tucked them under her arm, "If we are to make any headway, we need help."

Taren waved her away and she left without preamble as the High Lord turned his gaze back to Marius, "*Now* do you understand? You were about to kill one of the only people who can tell us how that vessel operates. Do you have any *idea* how advanced their technology is?"

Marius shifted from foot to foot as the wound in his side began to throb, "I had no idea they were this important.

"Obviously!"

Garus gave a discreet cough, "Lord, the transport..."

Taren nodded and stepped closer to the overseer, "You've served us well over the years, Marius, so I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself."

Marius straightened, "Lord?"

Garus tapped the radar, "That dot is a troop transport which your deviant and her friends have stolen."

Marius squinted at the screen, only vaguely understanding what he was looking at, "They're heading this way? Are they mad?"

Taren snorted, "Hardly! They want to go home. Because of your incompetence they know that there are people of intelligence in the region. They'll try to bargain for passage home."

"What do you want me to do?"

Taren shrugged as if bored, "They need to know who is in charge here. Take twenty men and stop the transport.

Bring every one on it to me."

Marius smiled, the light of battle igniting in his eyes, "What if they cause trouble?"

Taren stood in front of him and glowered, "I want the deviant and her friend alive. Do you understand?"

Marius nodded and scowled, "Yes, Lord."

He turned to leave, but Taren seized his arm and said, "Alive, Marius. Do try and contain your enthusiasm this once."

The overseer bowed deeply, his pain filled breath hissing through his teeth and left the room.


***

They had come across a primitive road an hour ago and, at Jhemor's insistence, were following it towards the palace. At least that's what O'Brien hoped. He had mastered the controls of the transport with relative ease, the hands on steering and lack of any kind of autopilot reminding him of the tractors he had tinkered with on his Grandparents farm back home in Ireland, and was now attempting to guide it along the somewhat bumpy track whilst keeping his bearings.

Quite frankly, he could have used little help from his companions.

He glared over his shoulder at the others. Kira and Jhemor were sound asleep, the boy curled up against her side, his hand holding hers in a fierce grip. Katalia's sleep, he suspected, was more fever induced. She was slumped in one of the seats, her shattered arm cradled to her chest, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. O'Brien hoped the Merchant's had some decent doctors. Words like gangrene and septicaemia kept wandering across his mind and he was becoming afraid that she wouldn't last much longer.

Lars and Odo were wide awake, chatting in animated whispers even as the Constable kept watch out of the back window in case any of the soldiers should come looking for their missing transport. O'Brien smiled to himself, unused to seeing the shapeshifter so at ease with a virtual stranger.

A persistent bleep from the panel in front of him caught his attention and he scanned a practised eye over a somewhat primitive radar detection unit. There was something on the road ahead of them. He eased the transport down to a crawl and called loudly, "We've got company."

By the time everyone was awake and alert, they had rounded a bend in the track and come face to face with a welcoming committee.

Three transports were blocking the track, and he counted twenty men with disruptors all pointed in their direction. He pulled the vehicle to a halt and scowled as he saw Marius limp to the front of the crowd and smile in an all too familiar manner.

Kira gritted her teeth and let out a low breath, "Doesn't he know when to quit?"

Odo let out a low growl behind her, "Apparently not. What do you think he wants?"

She glared out towards the man she hated most in the universe, "Nothing pleasant."

"Do you think the Merchants sent him?"

She shrugged, "Could be. Either way, we're in no condition to fight."

O'Brien glanced at her, "Are you saying we surrender?"

"For the moment." She looked Odo up and down, "I suggest you make yourself less conspicuous, Constable. It may be wiser to keep an ace or two up our sleeves."

Odo nodded, thought for a second then melted to the floor in a cascade of amber before solidifying as a rather plain belt which O'Brien picked up and strapped to his waist, "Time to face the music."

One by one they left the transport and waited as Marius and his troops walked cautiously towards them.


***

Compared to the primitive, inhospitable prison, the Merchant's palace more than lived up to its name. Whereas Caspii had been a hotchpotch of roughly hewn stones held together by age and the elements, rearing up like a lumbering beast about to strike, the palace was *elegant*. It was smooth to Caspii's rough cragginess, slightly off white to the prison's heavy browns. The walls were seamless, sweeping upwards and curving slightly outwards like a porcelain vase, peaking at a rim which no doubt hid battlements a-plenty. The windows were *real*, not jagged gashes added as an afterthought and, as far as the fugitives could see, they even contained glass.

The grounds through which they were led were immaculate, every plant and tree pruned to perfection as they shadowed ornamental fountains which glittered like diamond showers as they passed.

They mounted a row of wide steps leading to the doors which were opened by silent footmen and closed behind them with a gentle thud.

Once inside, they were led at gun point through the magnificent hallways, past riches the likes of which they had never seen before. None of the guards spoke a word and even Marius, who revelled in the sound of his own voice, steadfastly refused to answer any of their questions.

The only sound was the tick-tacking of heavy boots drowning out the slapping of bare feet on the dappled marble floors.


***

Taren watched them approach on a tiny monitor, squinting through dulled green eyes as he cursed the ravages of impending age. It was not so long ago that he would have been able to make out the image clearly from the other side of the room.

Marius was leading the way, his once arrogant stride slowed by the pressure of his wound. The man behind him had a mess of blond curls plastered to his head and an annoyed scowl on his face. There was a woman with a bloody mess for an arm being supported by the farmer. Behind them came the deviant. He had to squint harder to make out the delicate mutation on the bridge of her nose. Such a shame. Take away the bruises and the ridges and she would be almost pretty. He found it hard to believe that she possessed the will to drive Marius to such distraction. He watched as she slowed her pace to wrap an arm around the shoulders of the last member of the party, a young boy, and whispered something to him, urging him on. Taren paused and peered closer, his eyes widening, "Sweet Creator..."

Garus, engrossed in his work, looked up, "Lord?"

Taren shook his head slowly, his eyes glued to the monitor, "...nothing..."


***

Marius ordered the little party to a halt outside a rather grandly designed door and the prisoners waited at gun point as he knocked cautiously and ducked inside.

Kira scanned the halls around them, searching for any possible escape routes, their path to the outside easily memorised. They had hardly seen another soul on the long walk through the palace and she was pretty sure that security in the grounds was minimal.

If they could just lose their silent shadows...

Just as she looked across at O'Brien, the door re-opened and Marius came back out and snapped orders to the guards, "Take him, him and her to quarters", he barked, pointing at Lars, Katalia and Jhemor.

The guards nodded and hustled the trio away, having to prise Jhemor's hand from Kira's as the boy hung on for dear life, "Major Lady!"

Kira took an instinctive step after him and Marius took hold of her arm and tugged her back. She froze, a chill running up her spine as he grinned at her, allowing his rough fingers to caress her forearm in an obscene massage, "Not you, deviant."

Without another word, he ushered them into the room and closed the door behind them, taking up a sentry position to watch what unfolded.

Kira and O'Brien barely had time to take in their surroundings before a middle aged Merchant with greying hair and flowing robes bore down on them with the falsest of false smiles, "Welcome, welcome!"

He guided the startled duo to a luxuriant couch surrounded by small tables laden with food and wine. Kira and O'Brien sat slowly, relishing in the softness of the seat as they sank gently into it's cushions.

The Merchant poured each of them a drink and stepped back with a little bow, "My name is Taren."

They looked at him, the drinks untouched.

Not used to being left unacknowledged, Taren frowned and tried again, "High Lord of the Merchant Empire."

Kira placed her goblet very carefully on the nearest table and stood up, drawing herself up to her full height, her face emotionless, "My name is Major Kira Nerys, " she paused, "Political prisoner of Caspii."

Taren's frown deepened as he tried to work out whether or not she was mocking him, turning now to O'Brien, "And you are...?"

O'Brien didn't stand and didn't smile, "Miles O'Brien. Pleased to meet you, I'm sure."

The Merchant smiled broadly, "Yes, yes, pleased to meet you." He stepped forward and returned the goblet to Kira's hand, "Please accept the drink. I know you haven't been eating too well."

She directed a scowl at Marius, "And who's fault is that?" But she took the goblet and stared at the tempting liquid sloshing around inside. Worf would have growled something about not drinking with an enemy and poured the wine onto the floor. Very Klingon. Very noble. But she was not Klingon, her body ached and she was very *very* thirsty. She closed her eyes and took a long swig of the wine, sighing deeply as it hit her empty stomach.

O'Brien watched her and downed his drink in one gulp.

Taren was delighted, "See? It's not so hard to be friendly, is it?"

Kira eyed him carefully, "Friendly?"

"Yes. I just want us to get along."

She almost laughed, but no longer seemed to know how as she waved an arm at Marius, "For Prophet's know how long this animal has been trying to kill us and now you expect us to shake hands and be friends? You'll forgive me if I ask what the catch is."

Taren shook his head sadly, for all the world appearing distressed that she could have misunderstood his kindness, "There's no catch, Major. Major...Is that a military title?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you strike me as the type. There really is no catch, Major. " He had stepped too far into her personal space and she backed away, her legs bumping into the couch. O'Brien stood up, allowing a somewhat protective hand to rest on the small of her back as the Merchant continued, "I believe that we could all be of great help to each other."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled, "I know you're not of this world."

O'Brien laughed, "That's ridiculous." When Taren looked pointedly at Kira's nose, the Irishman shrugged, "It's a birth defect. All her life she's..."

The Merchant sighed in exasperation, "Enough! We have your ship."

Kira blinked, "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do. I know you crash landed not far from Caspii. I know you saved Jhemor from the thugs we call prison guards and I know you don't possess the means to repair your ship and get home. That, " he smiled again, "is where I can help you."

They looked at each other and O'Brien shrugged, "We're listening."

Taren rubbed his hands together, "My technicians have been over and over your ship, but your computers and ours don't appear to be compatible. If *you* would be willing to help us sort out this little problem, *we* would be willing to help you repair it and go home."

They looked at each other again, an unspoken question passing between them. It was Kira who spoke and her voice was bitter as her eyes bore into the silent overseer as he stood at the door, "If you are so keen on getting us home, why was *he* so keen on doing us harm?"

Taren glared at Marius and approached Kira. She had nowhere to run so could do nothing to prevent him placing an arm across her shoulders. He seemed not to notice when she stiffened, and led her towards the window, his voice low, "Marius is an idiot. He doesn't recognise a business opportunity when he sees it."

She shook him off and backed away, "And you do."

He nodded, "I'm a Merchant. Business is my life."

"You sound like a Ferengi."

"Excuse me?"

She scowled, "No."

Recognising her stubborn distrust and realising she would not just cave in at the promise of something to eat and drink, he gave an exasperated sigh, "Major, please, I am offering the hand of friendship. Allow me to make amends."

She was no longer willing to listen, "Tell us where our friends are."

"They are resting."

"Why should I believe you?"

He spread his hands, "Because I have no reason to harm them."

She let her hands move to her face, drawing his attention to the cuts and bruises marring her features, "You'll forgive me if I don't find that a very reassuring answer."

Taren sighed and spun away from her, addressing Marius, "Take them to their quarters. Re-unite them with their friends."

"At once, Lord." Marius bowed and opened the door, stepping aside to allow Kira and O'Brien through. As they left, Taren called, "We'll speak again when you are fully rested, Major. I'm sure that, given time, you'll come to see the benefits of friendship."


***

Jhemor was first to greet them as Marius pushed them through yet another overly decorative door. The boy threw himself at Kira with a squeal of delight, "Major Lady! You're not eaten, no you're not!"

She disentangled herself from his embrace with a smile, "Eaten?"

He nodded, "*Everyone* knows that Merchants *eat* their prisoners, yes they do."

O'Brien ruffled his hair, "Well, we're not eaten Jhemor," he looked around the room, "Surprised - not eaten."

He removed his belt and dropped it on the floor where it dissolved into an amber puddle before reforming in the familiar grim visage of Odo. They stood in silence for a while as they took in the room.

It was luxuriant in the extreme, the walls and floors thick with rugs and tapestries, the furniture exquisitely carved and the tables laden with refreshments. A number of doors led off to sleeping areas - one for each person - whilst fresh clothes and, for the first time in far too long, shoes awaited them in the closets.

O'Brien gave a low whistle as he took a huge mouthful of an unknown fruit, "Well, if this is a trap, it's the nicest one I've ever fallen for."

Lars came over to stand next to him, "Who says it's a trap?"

O'Brien looked at him, "Experience."

Lars laughed as he poured himself a large goblet of wine, "They've been nothing but hospitable to us since we arrived. If you look outside, you'll see no guards on the door. We're free to roam. Perhaps this has all been some huge misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding..!"

Noticing the Chief's face reddening with fury, Odo stepped between the two men, "Take it easy, Chief."

O'Brien spun round to him, "I'd tell your friend to think before he speaks. He wasn't at Caspii - *we* were..."

A groan of pain curtailed the argument and they turned to see Kira kneeling next to one of the couches, feeding water to the rapidly weakening Katalia as Jhemor hovered in the background. The big woman had lost a lot of blood, her pallor pasty, her eyes glazed.

Kira whispered something to Jhemor and the boy ran into one of the other rooms, returning with a sheet which the Bajoran began to tear into strips.

Soaking them in water she dabbed at the ruined arm, knowing she could do little to help. Katalia gasped in pain and placed her good hand on Kira's arm, "I'm sorry to...to let you down...Deviant...the pain..."

"Ssh, it's all right. Rest."

She shook her head, her eyes closing, "I should...be able to...help..."

Kira wrapped another strip around the wound in a makeshift bandage, "Help when you're well."

"No....listen..."

"I'm listening."

Katalia's usually powerful voice was barely more than a whisper as she finally gave in to sleep, "Don't...trust them...Don't *ever*...trust them..."

Her strength gave out with a sigh and Kira stood up, covering her with a blanket, "I won't."

As she turned away, Jhemor tugged on her arm, "Is she dead, Major Lady?"

"No, Jhemor, she's not dead. But she needs a lot of rest so it's best we don't disturb her."

She watched as the boy nodded and yawned, "Why don't you go and get some sleep?"

"Okay." Rubbing his eyes, he disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

Lars put down his goblet, "I think I'll catch some rest myself."

He nodded to O'Brien and chose one of the other rooms, closing the door behind him.

The three officers were left alone for the first time in the silent room, the only sound being the unsteady breathing of the sleeping Katalia.

Odo took a moment to take a proper look at his crew mates for the first time since they had broken out of the prison. He knew that they had lived through an horrific experience, though neither of them had volunteered details. He would not press them, but, as he watched Kira lower her battered body onto one of the couches with an exhausted sigh, he promised himself that he would be there for them whenever they chose to talk.

For now, though, there were things to do.

He crossed to the Major and offered her a plate of food, "Can we be sure they have no idea I'm here?"

She took the plate with a bright smile, "Positive. Taren told us about the runabout almost immediately. I think he likes to brag when he's got one up on an opponent. He'd have mentioned *you* straight away."

"Well, in that case I shall go and explore. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Be careful."

He nodded, "Always," and dissolved into an air vent.

O'Brien joined her sitting on the couch and they shared the plate of food. He took a bite out of what looked like a chicken leg, but tasted rather sweet, "Do you trust Taren?"

"Not in the slightest."

"What does he want?"

Kira sighed, "I have no idea, Chief," she looked up at him with sad eyes, "but did you notice how he seems to be on first name turns with Jhemor?"

He had wondered whether that had struck home, "Yes, I did. If we were betrayed from the inside, do you think..?"

She sprang to her feet, shaking her head, "No! No, he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't do that..."

"How can we be sure?"

She tried to take a calming breath, a trick she had mastered from infinite discussions with Sisko at his most stubborn, "He's just a kid, Miles. If we hadn't found him when we did, those thugs would have killed him."

O'Brien set the plate on the table and stood up, "Would they? Isn't it something of a coincidence that we just happened to bring the ship down there?"

"Maybe..."

"And if they were so set on killing him, why are we all still alive? Why did they just take us to the prison?"

She closed her eyes, "I don't know. Prophets, I'm tired" He reached out and drew her into a hug, hurt when she almost pulled away before deciding he was safe and settling her head against his chest with a sigh. He stopped short of stroking her hair, "Look, let's get some sleep. We can't think straight when we're out on our feet."

She pushed herself away from him and nodded, "Sleep well, Chief."

"You too, Major."

They closed their bedroom doors behind them and all was quiet.


***

The scream woke Kira from her most relaxing sleep in days and she staggered bleary eyed to the door of her room, pulling a blanket round her shoulders.

All was quiet.

Assuming she had been dreaming, she turned to go back to bed when it happened again. A muffled, sobbing cry from Jhemor's room. Pushing open his door she peered inside.

The boy was in fitful, restless sleep on the bed, his face creased in a permanent frown. She paused. What if O'Brien was right? What if Jhemor had been the one who betrayed the prisoners? It would explain how Taren knew his name without ever having met him. What if..?

Jhemor flipped over in his sleep and another cry escaped his lips. Pushing her doubts aside, Kira crossed the room and lay down next to him, wrapping the blanket around them both as she shushed him and banished his nightmares.

Within minutes, they were both asleep and the apartment was quiet once more.

Unseen, somebody walked up to Jhemor's room, watched the sleeping pair for a moment then closed the door.


***

The palace was vast, even more so from the confines of the miles of air vents that criss-crossed its length and breadth and Odo had made little headway in his explorations.

He had sped through the dusty channels, allowing his substance to stream along the walls, feeling for vents and doors and peering through each as he passed. There was very little to see.

That the Merchants were the most material race he had come across was obvious after only a few rooms. They seemed to treasure possessions even more than the Ferengi, their rooms and halls lavishly decorated with precious metals and works of art.

The people themselves were shiftless and idle with servants from the outside world doing most of the work for none of the pay.

He despised them.

Turning a corner he could suddenly hear the sound of metal on metal and the steady buzz of power tools. He peered through the nearest vent and found himself looking down on the battered wreck of the Amazon.

He was no engineer, but Odo could not see the runabout flying again, no matter how many people swarmed all over it - and right now there were a *lot* of people in the hanger. He spotted Marius standing to the rear of the craft, peering in as technicians ran to and fro and generally getting in everyone's way.

The hanger door opened and Taren walked in, beckoning the overseer to a quiet corner. Odo slid on to the next vent and listened.

Taren nodded towards the door, "They're sleeping."

"So what should we do, Lord?"

Taren looked down his nose at the man, "We give them a few more minutes to recover and then we bring them here and put them to work, of course."

Marius shook his head, "Forgive me, Lord, but the deviant said..."

"I *know* what she said, Marius, but *I* have said that she will work."

He raised his hands in supplication, trying to get his point across without stepping out of line, "She's a trouble maker, Lord, they both are. They won't fall in line. Let me show them who's in charge. A few minutes..."

Taren snorted and turned away in disgust, "Your heavy handed approach has already put up walls between them and us. If violence didn't break them before, why would it work now?"

Marius almost growled, hating the way his hands had been tied; hating the way he had been reduced to little more than a lackey in the blink of an eye. Just one more minute alone with the deviant and he could work off a lot of the tension in his bones. But he knew it was not to be, so he opted for the next best thing, "Fine. Then give me Jhemor. They seem very protective of him. If *he* were in danger..."

Taren spun on him, eyes blazing, "NO!" The noise in the hanger stopped as if turned off at the mains as everyone looked at the High Lord. He glared them back to work and took hold of the overseer's arm, "We'll give them one chance to do as they are told. Bring them here. Let's see what they have to say."

"And if they refuse?"

He was losing patience, "They won't refuse. They need to know where they stand as much as we do." He released the arm and watched as the overseer headed for the door, "And Marius..?"

He stopped and turned, "Lord?"

Taren took a slow walk towards him, "I've been aware of your sadistic nature for a number of years, but I let it slide because you ran that prison so well, but know this: if you harm one hair on that boy's head I will kill you with my own hands."

Marius faltered, "But, Lord, he's nothing...he's a half wit..."

He stopped just inches from the smaller man and glared at him, "He was more the day he was born than you will *ever* be and you will treat him with respect. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Lord."

With a deep bow, Marius left the hanger as Taren watched the technicians work, his face as black as thunder.

*Curiouser and curiouser*, thought Odo as he dissolved like quick silver and sped back towards the apartment.

He arrived well ahead of Marius and woke the sleeping occupants as quickly as he could, explaining the eavesdropped conversation to Kira and O'Brien before becoming a vase in the corner. When the overseer burst through the door he was greeted not with bleary eyed confusion but smug superiority as Kira and O'Brien stood and regarded him with disdain.

O'Brien all but pushed past him, "I assume we're wanted."

Marius glowered at him, "You're to go to the hanger."

He put out an arm to stop Jhemor from leaving with Kira but she stood her ground and crossed her arms, "He stays with me or I don't go."

The overseer looked as though he would dearly love to teach her some respect, but stood aside and let the trio pass.

The door closed leaving Lars looking down on the sleeping Katalia, "I'll stay here, then", he called to no-one in particular.


***

The technicians had gone by the time they arrived and only Taren was there to greet them, "Ah, Major Kira Nerys and Miles O'Brien, how nice of you to join me."

"Like we had a choice, " muttered O'Brien as he climbed into the back of the runabout, Kira and Jhemor behind him.

Taren and Marius made to follow but she stopped them with a look, "Nothing is agreed yet, *Lord*, so I'll thank you to stay out there."

He smiled at her, "Do I take it you are admitting to ownership of this vessel?"

Kira glared at him, "Do we play games or do we conduct business?"

Taren's unpleasant smile deepened as he stepped down from the runabout, pulling Marius with him, "As you wish. You have one hour. There are tools at your disposal."


***

As it turned out, the hour proved very productive. As Jhemor sat quietly near the door, trying to keep out of the way as the Major Lady and Mr 'Brien made the metal monster work, O'Brien eventually managed to coax the computer into some semblance of life and they began to run through their options.

Taren's technicians had managed to effect various repairs, which was worrying. If they could get this far with no instruction, how well would they do with a Starfleet engineer to help them. The hoped for incompetence was sadly lacking.

Kira leant back and rubbed her eyes, "Okay, Chief, what can you tell me?"

He shrugged, "Well, voice recognition is down. Whatever we do, we'll have to do manually."

Kira gave a short nod and began hitting keys on the panel in front of her as O'Brien watched, his eyes widening, "What are you doing?"

She didn't look at him, "Activating the self destruct. We have to take the runabout out of the equation."

"If we do that, we lose our last chance to get home."

She paused and took a deep breath, "I know," then continued her work at the panel.

Jhemor leant forward as O'Brien clenched his fists, his voice an almost whisper, "Major, the explosion would take out half the complex. These people have built a completely different civilisation under this roof. It's like two separate worlds with a wall in between. What if they can't survive outside."

She turned from the panel and glared at him, the bruises making her eyes as dark as coals, burning in her face, "Chief, we can't give them Starfleet technology."

He matched her glare for glare as Jhemor whimpered and backed away, "I agree with you, Major. But we can't deny them their own technology either. They'd be stranded here. Helpless. It goes against the Prime Directive..."

Kira's fists slammed into the console, "But they're exploiting the entire planet. We can't give them another weapon to use against these people."

O'Brien watched her for a full minute as she rubbed her sore hands and brought herself under control. When he spoke, his voice was soft and he placed a hand on her arm, "It's not up to us to interfere."

She looked at him, "We already have interfered, just by crashing here."

"That's not the way it works..."

She jabbed a finger towards the runabout window and the distant figures of Taren and Marius as they waited impatiently in the hanger, "Dammit, Chief, the runabout is useless unless *they* help us fix it."

He made a rude noise of disbelief, "I'm not letting them near it."

"Exactly. We have no choice. Given time, they're bound to work out the basic principles. We have to activate the self destruct."

Her hand moved towards a large red button, but O'Brien restrained her, his grip brooking no argument, "There are a lot of innocent people here. I don't know about you, but Prime Directive or no - I cannot commit cold blooded murder."

For a moment it looked as though she would finish the sequence with or without his approval and Jhemor cowered further away as they attempted to stare one another into submission. Eventually, though, she nodded and pulled away, "Then it looks as though we're stuck at an impasse."

The two of them abandoned their work and left the runabout, leaving Jhemor to sit and ponder what he had just heard, before he too climbed out of the ship and trotted across the hanger to join his friends.

Kira stood and faced Taren as he bore down on her, his fake smile making her feel ill, "Well? Can we help each other?"

She shook her head, "I don't think so."

"You don't think..."

She turned and walked towards the door, O'Brien and Jhemor in her wake.

Taren blustered, his face reddening in fury, "I offered you a business deal, *Major*. And *no-one* refuses to do business with the High Lord."

She didn't look back, "What are you going to do? You need us, Taren. You'll get your help when *we're* ready and not before."

The trio left the hanger with Taren's parting words ringing in their ears, "I may need *you*, Major, but what about your friends. *They're* expendable. Think of *that*."

O'Brien glanced at Kira as they walked down the hallway, "That was risky."

"I know, but it makes a change to be the one wielding the power."

He smiled, "How do you think he'll take it?"

Kira sighed heavily, long since tired of living on a constant knife edge and wishing for simpler things, "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. Come on, Jhemor, let's get something to eat."


***

Marius had seen Taren annoyed before, had seen him sentence men to death simply because he was bored; but he had never seen him shaking with abject fury. Had never seen him reduced to virtual foot stamping with inbred temper. Now, though, the High Lord was a shaking mass of clenched teeth and clenched fists as he watched the door close behind the deviant and her friends, "How dare she! How *dare* she? I will *not* be spoken to in that manner."

The overseer swallowed nervously, "I warned you she has no respect, Lord."

For a second Taren considered taking out his ire on his underling, but steadied himself as plans formulated in his mind, "Yes, you did, Marius."

"What now?"

"Whatever her faults we need the deviant alive, just as we need O'Brien." He smiled at Marius, "I think we'll put your plan into action, overseer."

"Lord?"

"We'll fetch Jhemor. Give them something to think about."

Marius frowned, "But you said..."

Taren waved him away with an impatient snarl, "I said 'fetch' the boy, not maim him. We just let them *think* that I have taken him for sport. They'll soon rethink their disobedience."

Marius nodded, "Let me arm myself and I'll take you to them."

He crossed to a locker against the wall and pulled out a disruptor rifle then, with a nod to Taren, led the way down the halls towards the apartment.


***

Odo was waiting for them when they returned and the three of them gathered in O'Brien's room to talk things through. It was agreed that they could not give the Merchants access to a higher technology, none of them being willing to jeopardise the people of this world any more than they already were. It was also agreed that activating the self destruct whilst the runabout was still inside the hanger was unacceptable.

And each of them wondered briefly when they had abandoned the idea of returning home.


***

Taren's fury had not abated by the time they reached the apartment and slammed through the door, startling those within. In the blink of an eye he was across the room, Marius covering him with the rifle, and took Jhemor by the arm, "Come with me!"

Jhemor let out a cry of alarm and tried to pull away, his eyes pleading with the still seated Lars to help him.

Before the farmer could make a move, though, there was a blur of movement from the far couch as Katalia pushed herself up on her one good arm and threw herself at the High Lord with a shriek that may have been pain or may have been defiance.

She hit Taren square in the chest knocking him back against the wall, his grip on Jhemor broken.

Marius smiled and shot her down. She was dead before she hit the floor and for a moment there was silence.

Jhemor's wail of distress rent the air as he saw yet another friend fall to the overseer. Familiar tears began to race each other down his face as he launched himself at the detestable man and bore him to the ground, inadequate fists pummelling his face and chest.

Every instinct in Marius' body was screaming at him to snap the boy's neck, to put him down like the worthless vermin he was, but he knew that Taren's wrath was to be feared a lot more than a few minor bruises.

As one of the interior doors opened and the deviant came through, he covered his face with his hands and waited for everything to stop.


***

The discussions had trailed to an inconclusive halt when the sound of gunfire and screaming had sent Kira, O'Brien and Odo dashing from the Chief's room to the main apartment.

The first thing they saw as the door opened was Taren struggling to rise, pushing Katalia's body from off his legs and wiping distastefully at the blood which had splashed on his robes. There was Jhemor, perched atop Marius' chest pounding at his face for all he was worth.

Then there was Lars.

As the trio ground to a halt, the farmer got up from the couch with an annoyed frown and picked up Marius' fallen disruptor. He primed the weapon with a flick of the wrist and pointed it at Kira's head, "Get off him, Jhemor."

The boy looked up and bit his lip, climbing off Marius when Lars wrapped an arm around the Bajoran's neck and almost tugged her off her feet, "Don't hurt her, Mr Lars. Please don't."

Marius got to his feet and stepped back to join the High Lord with a smug smile, "It seems there will be no more pretence, Lord."

"So it seems", Taren gazed closely at Odo, taking in for the first time the deviant face which he had known was present but had never seen, then nodded at the boy, "Jhemor, come here."

Jhemor crossed the floor, a picture in dejection and Taren led him from the room. Marius nodded to Lars, "You know what to do" and closed the door behind him.

Once they were gone, Lars released Kira and backed up against the door, keeping the trio well within his sights until O'Brien broke the silence, "It was *you* who betrayed us."

The farmer nodded, "I did my job."

"But..."

Lars shook his head and looked at Odo, his face containing none of the smug superiority which was ever present in Marius. His eyes were almost apologetic, "I meant everything I said, Odo. You saved my son's life and I will always be grateful, but the debt is more than paid and, well, this is business. I have a family to feed, my friend."

The Changeling growled, "I'm no friend of yours."

"That can't be helped. Now, all of you sit down on the couch." They glanced at one another and Odo took a step away, before Lars raised the rifle higher, aiming steadily between O'Brien and Kira, "And don't try any of those fancy tricks, Odo. I may not be able to harm you, but I can harm *them*."

Odo stepped back and they all sat on the couch, "What happens now?"

Lars shrugged, "We wait here until you decide to help us with your ship. If I haven't sent word to Taren within the hour, Jhemor will die. Another hour and one of you three will die and so on and so on." He shrugged again as if uncomfortable with the orders he had been given.

Odo glared at him with ice chip eyes, flashing a look which had reduced hardened criminals to babbling confessors, "I have to congratulate you, Lars. I have been a law enforcement officer for many years and I have *never* been fooled this way before."

The farmer shook his head with a low chuckle, "Don't feel bad, my friend, I'm good."

He gave a snort of derision, "Do Rissa and the children know you sold out to the Merchants?"

"Rissa *is* a Merchant. And the children will learn as they grow older."

Odo took a step towards his former friend and Lars covered him with the rifle as he walked, "And just what will they learn, Lars? How to treat people like animals? How to become devious and cruel? How to betray their fellow men for the sake of a profit? "I didn't betray you, Odo. I risked everything to help you."

"And then you told Taren there was going to be a break out, didn't you. You *knew* what Marius had in store for my friends and you *knew* I wouldn't let anything happen to them, so you betrayed me to your masters like the slave you are."

For the first time, Lars' fingers twitched in anger, his face darkening, "I'm no slave, Odo."

If he had been concentrating harder on the job at hand and less on controlling his growing anger, the farmer would have noticed that the Changeling had been walking slowly round him, leading his aim away from Kira and O'Brien until they were standing behind him.

By the time he realised what Odo had done it was too late. O'Brien clubbed him down with a water pitcher and watched him fall, bending to retrieve the fallen rifle, "He may not be a slave, Constable, but he's a damned lousy watchdog."

They left the room at a run.


***

Jhemor was used to being afraid. He had spent his whole life cowering from real and imagined fears, real and imagined people. Walking down an endless hallway between two large men and wondering when they were going to kill him was almost run of the mill.

Almost.

He glanced sideways at Marius, remembering all the times the overseer had screamed at him, frightened him, slapped him. He knew the man's habits from experience and had seen others take the brunt of a particularly violent temper. He knotted his fingers together and bit his lip, "I don't like him," he whispered.

Taren looked down at him, unsure whether the boy had meant to speak aloud, glanced quickly at Marius then placed a reassuring hand on Jhemor's shoulder, "He's nothing."

Jhemor hadn't really expected a response to his voiced fear and looked up into Taren's eyes, unsure by what he saw there. The man wasn't shouting at him, though, so he stopped dead in his tracks and gave it another try, "I don't like him."

"You're dismissed, Marius."

The overseer gaped, "But, Lord..."

Taren glowered at him, his voice a hiss, "You think I need protecting from *him*? You insult me, overseer. Go!"

As Marius skulked off down the hallway, Jhemor looked up at his unexpected ally, "I want to go back to my room, yes I do."

The reply was instant, clipped, "I'm sorry, Jhemor, but I can't allow you to associate with that deviant."

Taren continued to walk down the hallway and Jhemor trotted after him, "Major Lady's not a deviant. She's my friend."

The High Lord raised a dismissive hand, "It's not appropriate."

"I don't know appropriate."

Taren stopped again and turned towards the boy, something almost like affection reflecting in his eyes. He reached out and stroked a lock of the untamed ginger hair away from Jhemor's eyes and smiled, "I want better things for my son."

"Son?"

He nodded, "Yes."

Jhemor backed away, shaking his head. Marius and his kind had taken great delight in telling him terrible stories just to watch him cry. They had told him how his mother and father had abandoned him at the gates of Caspii because they wanted a *normal* child. Taren, it seemed, was cast from the same mould. But this time he wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to watch them laugh at him, "You say bad things to make me help you. I won't hear you." He clamped his hands over his ears.

Taren pulled them away as gently as he could, "Jhemor, listen to me. You are my son and it's time for you to come home."

He shook him off with a wail, tears glistening in his eyes despite his best efforts to contain them, "You're a *liar*, yes you are. You leave me alone!"

And he turned and fled.


***

Taren found him sitting in the runabout in the hanger. The technicians and engineers had left and they were alone. He pushed aside a detached piece of bulkhead as he entered the battered ship and saw Jhemor sitting in the only surviving seat, running his fingers over a button on the panel before him, his face an unreadable mask.

The High Lord's feet cracked through the debris on the ground as he crouched down behind the boy and, after a second's pause, placed a hand on his shoulder, "Jhemor...son..."

He didn't turn, "I'm not your son. You're a *bad bad* man."

"I'm not, Jhemor. Believe me, I'm not."

He spun the chair round now and looked Taren in the eye, "Merchants hurted the Major Lady. Merchants hurted *lots* of people. You're *bad*."

He shook his head, almost pleading with him, "Please, I would have given anything for you not to have to live through that. But when it became obvious that you were not...normal...Jhemor, you would have become High Lord after me, but no-one would have followed a half wit."

Jhemor spun round, his eyes blazing, not a tear in sight, "DON'T CALL ME THAT! I'm *not* a half wit, no I'm not."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know you're not a half wit, but I never had the chance to prove it to anyone. They wanted you killed, Jhemor. They wanted the bloodline cleansed. But I saved you, son."

Realisation dawned, "*You* send me to Caspii?"

"Yes."

"*Why*? Caspii a *bad* place."

"It was the only place I could guarantee your safety."

A lifetime of memories hurtled through his mind and he almost sneered at the man before him, "I wasn't safe..."

"Don't you understand, Jhemor? I made sure you never fought in the Arena. I made sure you always had enough food. I made sure they never punished you when you escaped. How do you think you survived this long?"

Jhemor's face crumpled in frustration, "I don't know."

Taren edged closer, "I have no heirs, son. Your mother is dead. I *need* you. If you don't come back to me the crown will pass on to any person who can fight for it. It could go to some-one like *Marius*. He's a peasant, Jhemor. Do you want *your* crown to go to a peasant?"

"I'm a peasant, too."

"No you're not. You're better than the peasants and the deviants. You're a Merchant, Jhemor. You're my son and I love you."

Jhemor smiled at him and turned back to the panel and pressed the red button. The computer gave a half hearted chirrup and announced, "Self destruct engaged. Five minute countdown begins."

Taren gaped, "*Do you know what you've done*?"

The boy nodded, his green eyes laughing at his father, his freckled face split in a toothy grin, "I pushed the button."

The laughter faded from his eyes and he glared at the man crouching before him. In his whole life, Jhemor had only ever found wonder in the world around him. Sure, he had cried for the people who left his life in the Arena or at the point of an overseer's sword, but he had never really felt anger for their killers. He was long since numb to it and knew deep down that it was a waste of energy. Now, for the first time, he could feel fury coursing through his veins and spat hate into his words, "I'm *not* a Merchant. I'm *not* better than the peasants and the deviants. *I DON'T LOVE YOU*. Now you run or you go *die*."

He slipped past the wide eyed Merchant and sprinted for the door, colliding with Kira, O'Brien and Odo as they dashed in.

Kira steadied him on his feet, "Jhemor. Are you all right? What's wrong?"

He looked up at her, his eyes solemn, "I pushed the red button, Major Lady. Now you don't have to choose."

The three officers looked at each other before O'Brien bellowed, "Christ Almighty!"

Then the four of them ran through the halls towards the exit.

It was the only thing left to do.


To be continued in Part 12

Send your comments to Karen Dunn

Reflections
By Karen Dunn
Chapter Twelve

Hern, it seemed, disliked being locked up. Disliked it with a passionate intensity which belied his pompous appearance. Jill Andrews had been watching him pace the length of the holding cell for almost two hours now,; his temper growing shorter and shorter with each passing moment.

His companion had long since given up trying to calm him, his ears still ringing from a shouted, "Silence!" as he had offered the Merchant a seat on the one and only bunk in the cell.

Andrews listened patiently as Hern once more offered her riches and lands if she would only let him go. He was a powerful man he told her for the tenth time. She would do well to stay on his good side, he threatened again. Jill simply raised an eyebrow and turned her attention back to the crime reports she had been working on.

When Sisko entered, she barely noticed.

Hern's exclamation, "Captain! Captain, we need to talk!" snapped her head up and she jumped to her feet and told him that all was well.

Without acknowledging the two prisoners, Sisko nodded to his Security Chief, "How have they been?" "Noisy, but no trouble."

Hern called frantically, "You see, Captain, we're no trouble. No trouble at all. Is this incarceration really necessary?" The Captain approached the forcefield and glared in at the two men, "Until I have my officers back, yes, it's necessary."

"But I haven't seen your officers..." The glare deepened and Hern had the good sense to back away, "..all right, all right. They may be alive, they may not. Our technology may be nothing compared to yours, but we are not primitives. We do know when a ship enters our space."

"So you did see the Amazon?" The Merchant's head fell, "Yes. But I swear to you, I saw nothing of your officers."

The Captains dark eyes were on fire with suppressed fury and he turned to leave. Hern's voice was a squeak as he called to his captor, "Captain...please..!" Sisko face him again.

"I've told you all I know. That must be worth something...I have to get out of here..."

Sisko crossed back to the Merchant and sneered at him with disdain, "So you expect me to simply let you go?"

Hern held out his hands, pleading, "Please, Captain, I'm a businessman, not a criminal. Can't we come to some kind of agreement?"

"I'm listening."

The Merchant thought frantically, "I'll tell you how to open a breach. I'll tell you how to get to your friends."

Sisko shook his head even as his mind raced. He had to play this correctly if he was to keep the upper hand. Hern's apparent claustrophobia had been a bonus and, though he disliked using what amounted to little more than a Cardassian torture technique, he knew that if he kept the man locked up for long enough he would soon tell him everything he needed to know. He made to turn away again, wondering how far he could push things. The Merchant thrust out a hand to stop him leaving and yelped in pain as the forcefield crackled around his fingers. He snatched his singed hand back and looked at the man before him, "Our ship. In exchange for a ride home and our freedom we'll tell you how to open the breach and give you our ship."

Sisko looked at him, long and hard, his eyes burning through him.

"It must be of some use to you..."

Sisko continued to stare at him.

"We'll throw in the shuttle, too..."

Sisko smiled softly to himself. They had offered him everything they had. There was nothing left to bargain for. He knew that Dax would do her level best to decipher the workings of the shuttle's computer, but he had no right to expect miracles from her. If she delivered, all the better, but it would be good to have something to offer her in the way of help. He paced the floor between the cell and the outer door, more for show than any real need to think, then stopped in front of the prisoners once more, "Very well. If we find our crew alive and well, you go free. If not...I bring you back here and you spend the rest of your lives being transferred from a Bajoran prison to a Federation prison. And if you step out of line in the slightest I will send you to a Dominion prison. And nobody gets transferred from there."

Hern swallowed nervously, "Agreed."

With a nod, the Captain turned to Andrews, "Let him out, Ensign."

"Yes, sir." Jill rose and keyed the control pad. With a flicker, the force field dropped and her stepped out with as much of his shredded dignity in tact as he could muster. Andrews raised the field again before his associate could join them and smiled at the younger man's frustrated scowl, "I don't think it takes two to work a computer, do you?"

Without a word he flopped back down on the bunk and stared at the ceiling.

Andrews and Sisko escorted Hern out of the cell block and into her office. With a little push, Sisko made the Merchant sit at the desk as Jill locked out all critical systems on the off chance that this man had more knowledge than he was letting on, and ordered the computer to begin recording.

With a nervous glance at the two grim looking people before him, Hern swallowed and began to speak.

An hour later he sat back in the chair with an exhausted sigh, his lips dry, his throat sore, "That's everything, I swear it."

The Captain looked closely at him then gave a short nod, "Fine. Return him to his cell, Ensign."

He only let the smile play along his lips when the two were out of sight, then tapped his comm. badge, "Sisko to Dax."

"Dax here." She sounded exhausted and he knew that she had probably all but taken the shuttle apart in her bid for answers, "You'll have to give me more time, Benjamin..."

"No need. Patch into the computer in Security and hold on to your hat. I think you're going to love this..."

*** Hours later, Jadzia Dax straightened up with a groan and clamped her hands to the small of her back, attempting to ease the cramped muscles. She had been bending over the Merchant computer for far too long and would pay for it in the morning.

The price was more than worth it, though.

After hours of painstaking work with a system she barely understood she had been ready to give up. Then Benjamin had called and she had spent more precious time downloading data from Andrews' computer, reading it with widening eyes and a growing smile. After that it had not taken long to made a breakthrough. She finally had something to take to Benjamin which would, she hoped, return the smile to his face for good - once she had explained to him exactly what she had found.

And that was the part she was looking forward to.

She began to gather up her equipment, packing it carefully away, checking each padd in turn, allowing a contented hum of a half remembered tune to leave her lips even as a gravelly voice stroked her mind, "Let's not get carried away again, Jadzia. You've still got to find them," chided Curzon.

Jadzia waved an impatient hand, "We'll find them - and we'll find them alive. I know it." She grinned as she sensed her past host's discomfort, "Relax. A few hours ago we had no idea how to get to them. Now...? Luck's on our side, Curzon. We're going to win this one."

She slung her equipment bag over her shoulder. There were just a few more things to check before she left the ship and headed for Ops.

*** By the time Dax tumbled off the turbolift the others were already there, seated round the Ops table; Baskell and Andrews looking extremely nervous with Captain Sisko seated between them. Jadzia flashed the young officers a beaming smile before taking her seat and dropping a padd onto the table. She let her gaze travel in an exaggerated circuit of Ops, "Is the Colonel not joining us?"

Sisko shook his head, his jaw set, "The Colonel is in his quarters waiting on the next shuttle back to Bajor."

Jadzia grinned and it was all Dax, "Couldn't hack it?"

The Captain didn't smile - it would be unprofessional, "He objected to his verbal humiliation at the hands of a junior officer."

Andrews blushed as Dax turned the grin on her, "Shame on you!" "I," Sisko raised his voice ever so slightly, "will no doubt receive an official complaint from the First Minister," he tapped the padd, "who will hopefully then withdraw said complaint when we get Kira back."

He allowed his crew to grin at one another for a moment before locking his eyes on Dax, "Well?" She picked up the padd and scanned her copious notes, "I studied everything Hern told us and compared it with what I had already learned. You realise, that in a Merchant ship, this is little more than a suicide mission."

Sisko looked at her, "How so?"

Dax keyed a code into the Ops console and a three dimensional hologram sprang up before them. Sisko eyed the complex jumble of molecules and equations playing out their own personal scenarios before him and raised an eyebrow, "Let's pretend I don't understand what we're looking at in the slightest, Old Man."

She smiled fondly, "If you insist, Benjamin. This diagram shows the expected effect of opening a breach on the warp and impulse drives of a ship."

Three blank faces looked at her and waited. She sighed, "Well, using one of our ships, the very act of opening a breach would involve introducing one of these crystals..." she fished one of Andrews' confiscated crystals out of her equipment bag and held it up for all to see, "...into the matter/antimatter containment field."

Baskell raised a cautious hand, "Sorry, Commander, but into the containment field?" She nodded and he frowned, "But isn't that slightly dangerous?"

Dax grinned openly, "Just ever so. The Merchant ship is capable of Warp 3 - 4 at a push, but as far as I can tell, they have no antimatter and no dilithium in the system."

Sisko held up his hands, "If they have no antimatter, how do you know we would have to introduce the crystal into the containment field?"

She had been waiting for one of them to ask; had been almost bouncing in her seat with contained excitement, "Because as far as I can tell, this is crystallised antimatter."

They opened their mouths as one, all ready to speak. Then, as one, they closed them again, realising they didn't know what to say and Dax chuckled softly at the collective goldfish impression. Sisko broke the silence, watching her carefully, "I beg your pardon?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Don't look at me that way, Benjamin. I'm not making this up. This crystal is naturally controlled and contained antimatter."

"So how do the Merchants harness it?"

"They don't. According to their computer, they burn the crystals through the engine core and channel the explosion back out through a second crystal which is tuned to resonate at a certain frequency. The reaction literally rips a hole in space."

He looked at her, "And exactly how safe is that?"

"In a Merchant vessel?" she shrugged, "It's a lottery. Hern didn't say how many ships they've lost using this method of exploration, but I doubt many have completed a successful journey. They're flying on luck."

Baskell frowned, "That explains why the scouts are unmanned."

Sisko nodded thoughtfully, "Obviously using Hern's ship to open the breach is out of the question. We need a stronger ship to get us through."

Andrews mentally ran through the ships at their disposal and offered cautiously, "We could requisition the Hercules. She's the toughest ship we have in dock."

Sisko looked pointedly at the young Security Chief, "Do you want to be the one who explains to Starfleet how we pulled the strongest ship in the fleet away from her assignment and blew her to pieces in a rescue effort based on the word of two strangers who have done nothing but lie to us since the moment we met?"

A hand touched his arm, "You need to breathe now, you've gone blue."

He glared, "Thank you, Dax."

The Trill wasn't phased, "She's right, though, Benjamin, we could make this work. Our shielding is so far in advance of theirs it's laughable. With a few modifications, I'm sure we could even send a runabout through. The Hercules has metaphasic shielding - she shouldn't get a scratch on her."

He sat back and waited, "Explain it to me."

"If we boosted the containment field through the warp buffer and channelled the crystal energy out through the deflector array and into the shields, we'd be protected from any feed back from the reaction that might...well...blow us up..."

"...right..."

"And the whole reaction would leave a boosted ion trail for us to follow home. Like a trail of bread crumbs."

Dammit, he had no idea what she was talking about! But he knew her well and she would not lie and past experience had warned her off of making boastful claims for personal gain. If she said it was possible, he believed her, "And you could adapt the Hercules to do this?"

"Yes. Easily."

"Easily?"

She shrugged, "Quite easily."

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

"I've made a few notes, yes."

With a sharp clap of his hands, Sisko pushed himself off his stool and stood up, "She's due to disembark in an hour. If we're going to take her, I'll have to talk to her Captain now."

"Captain Porter?"

"Right."

Dax stifled a grin, "If I remember correctly, she doesn't exactly like you."

He stopped, "Right."

"We're going to have one hell of a job getting her to agree to this."

Sisko gave her a boyish smile and almost swaggered as he headed for the turbolift, "Oh, I don't know. Marion Porter is a handsome woman. I'll use charm, charisma, bribery...threats..."

The comm. channel chirruped and a familiar gruff voice called across Ops, "Worf to Deep Space Nine."

Dax grinned openly, "Or you could use the Defiant."

"Yes...I suppose I could do that instead."

*** Worf listened quietly as Sisko outlined the plan to him, a scowl deepening on the big Klingon's face as he learned of the runabout's possible plight. When the Captain had finished speaking, he turned slate black eyes on him and growled, "These Merchants are without honour. They have lied already - how do we know we can trust them?"

Sisko watched the Klingon carefully, knowing that the man would dearly love a moment or two alone with their prisoners to ascertain for himself whether or not they were telling the truth, "They're a long way from home, Mr Worf and don't cope well with incarceration. Besides, they'll be going with you. If they have lied about the workings of the breach, they'll be just as dead as everyone else."

Worf wasn't convinced, "It may be a ruse. A Klingon warrior would willingly die if it meant taking his enemy with him."

The Captain smiled, "Believe me, Commander, these are not Klingon warriors."

Worf's scowl deepened as he considered his options, "Very well, Captain. The Defiant will be ready to leave within the hour. I suggest a minimal crew compliment - just in case."

"Agreed. I'll leave that to you. As long as you include Dax, Andrews and Baskell on your list."

"Sir?"

Sisko grinned, "They've been right about this affair all along, Mr Worf. We may as well let them finish what they started."

*** The Defiant pulled away from Deep Space Nine ten minutes ahead of schedule and Sisko watched her go from the upper walkway of the Promenade. With most of senior staff gone the bustling station felt unusually quiet. He watched the ship execute a tricky manoeuvre round one of the upper pylons, tumbling into a graceful roll as she headed out into space and knew that Dax was at the helm. One last little memory to add to the others - just in case.

He felt a presence at his shoulder and turned to see Quark gazing out of the window at the departing ship, "No consideration for others, that's her trouble."

"I beg your pardon?"

Quark gestured at the upper pylon, "Could have taken the whole thing off doing that. A move like that could frighten off my customers."

An explosion of light dazzled them both and they watched as the wormhole flowered open.

The Defiant seemed to pause at the lip of the rift and then there was a second eruption of light as the crystals were pumped into the matter/antimatter stream and space was torn open to form a breach Sisko held his breath as the little ship juddered, her shields sparking as ejected energy poured through them. She remained silhouetted against the dual brightness for an agonising second before disappearing into the breach.

The wormhole closed a second later and all was still.

Quark sniffed and started to walk off, "I'll stop her credit. That's what I'll do. I'll stop her credit. Teach her to scare away my customers."

Sisko let his gaze travel back to where the Defiant had been. And waited.

*** Martin Baskell sat at tactical and gripped onto his console for dear life as the Defiant bucked and jumped and threatened to shake herself to pieces.

If the plan had failed, he hoped someone would tell him soon. There were last words to plan and regrets to voice and he would rather not do it screaming silently in the void of space as the remains of the ship floated away around him.

He looked around at his crew mates.

Worf was in the Captain's seat, his large knuckles whitening as his grip on the leather armrests deepened. His face was set and he never once moved his gaze from the swirling maelstrom of colour that invaded the viewscreen.

Andrews was manning the sensors, her arms all but hugging the console, her teeth gritted as she tried to run some kind of scan and stay in her seat at the same time.

And Dax was wrestling with the helm, the smug grin she had worn since her little manoeuvre round the upper pylon long gone. In its place was a look of intense concentration as she entered command after command into the shrieking machinery, never knowing whether any of them were heeded.

An interminable length of time passed and Baskell heard Andrews cal out, her voice shaking with each lurch of the ship, "Sir...hull integrity... falling..."

Worf's voice was almost steady, "More power to the shields. Increase power to emergency external forcefields."

Andrews stabbed at her console, her skin taking on a slightly green hue as the Defiant rolled of her own accord, "Aye, sir!" The Defiant continued to shudder and Worf finally tore his gaze away from the screen and shouted at the back of Dax's head, "How much longer?"

Dax's voice was almost lost in the cacophony of noise, "One more minute then deactivate the matter/antimatter converter."

It was the longest minute of Baskell's life and he was glad to see he wasn't the only one looking a little queasy when the ship finally broke through the breach and into normal space. He ran a quick systems check and muttered, "Going through the wormhole was never this bad."

Worf straightened in his seat and looked across at Andrews, "Begin scans, Ensign."

Jill blinked through tears of nausea and peered at her console, "Aye, sir."

"Mr Baskell!" Martin looked at the big Klingon, "Go to the brig and check on the prisoners. Bring them to the bridge."

Baskell nodded and headed below.

As he left the bridge Andrews called out, "There's a class M planet on short range sensors, sir."

Dax's hands were flying over her console, "Course laid in."

Worf nodded, "Are there any signs of other ships?"

Andrews shook her head, "Not that I can tell although...just a minute.." she frowned down at her console then looked up with a grin, "I'm reading a faint ion trail leading down into the atmosphere. The runabout came this way."

Worf settled back in his chair with a small smile, "Dax, take us in."

*** The was larger than it looked and Kira, Odo, O'Brien and Jhemor had taken one too many wrong turns for comfort. They had done nothing to hide their flight, screaming and yelling to everyone they met that they had to evacuate the building - that there was going to be an explosion.

Some-one, somewhere was quick to catch on to the panic and hit an alarm, the klaxon blaring through the halls in anachronistic counterpoint to the almost primitive setting. It was for that reason that the foursome found themselves being carried along on a tide of running bodies to the main exit.

They burst through the doors together and didn't stop. The forest looked awfully appealing when set against the alternative. Pushing through the sea of bodies around them, they ran.

*** Marius leapt down the front steps in one bound and watched the little group as they headed for the cover of the forest.

He had heard the klaxon and, like them, found himself carried along in the rush to escape. Once outside, he let his gaze dart from face to face in the milling crowd, looking for the High Lord. If Taren was there he was hiding well. Which more than likely meant...

With a growl of anger he turned and forced his way back up the steps, pushing and shoving people out of his way, occasionally grabbing the front of a shirt and demanding to know where the High Lord was. If anyone knew, they weren't telling.

He found himself back in the halls just as a flustered Garus hurtled round a corner and almost knocked him off his feet, "Marius! What in the name of profit is going on?"

Marius pushed him aside, "I have no idea. Where's Taren?"

Garus shook his head as he carried on running, "I thought he was with you." And he was gone.

For just a second, duty and honour fought for dominance in the mind of the overseer. It was not a sensation he cared for. Every instinct was telling him to run, whilst duty told him to find his Lord and get him to safety.

Marius had survived on instinct for a long time. He didn't intend to stop now.

With a final glance down the now deserted hallway, he turned and ran back outside. He may not be able to save Taren from whatever was about to happen, but he could tie up one final piece of unfinished business.

With pleasure.

*** Lars watched quietly as Marius passed him, just as he had watched Odo and his friends pass moments before. Without a word, he snatched up a fallen disruptor abandoned in panic by one of the palace guards and set off after the overseer.

*** Far above the planet, the Defiant slid smoothly into orbit.

"Orbit achieved," announced Dax just as Baskell reappeared on the bridge with two security guards, Hern and his associate herded before them.

The smaller man caught his breath at the view on the screen, "... we're home..."

Hern silenced him with a glare and turned to Worf, his eyes widening. Having only met the Klingon once whilst being transferred to the Defiant's brig, he still had trouble equating the deviant before him with a man, "Well, devi.. Mr Worf... I believe we have fulfilled our side of the bargain. I will thank you to let us go."

Worf turned his best stare on the man, satisfied when he shrank back a step, "You have fulfilled nothing - we have yet to find our colleagues. You will tell us where the runabout landed."

"I..."

Worf let the stare intensify, "And you will tell us now."

Hern tried his hardest to return the glare and failed miserably, "The northern hemisphere, smallest continent. Use your sensors. You'll find only one major power source. That's the palace - it's a good place to start."

The Klingon glanced across at Andrews who nodded, "He's right, sir. I've transferred the co-ordinates to the transporter room."

Worf stood, tugging briefly at his uniform top in an unconscious effort to straighten it, "Very well," he raised his head slightly, tapping his comm. badge, "Relief crew to the bridge. Dax, Andrews, Baskell, you will join me on the away team. Security - return the prisoners to the brig."

*** Down on the planet's surface, no-one noticed when, minutes later, four iridescent columns of light solidified into the forms of the four Starfleet officers.

While Worf and Dax were immediately on the alert for danger, Andrews and Baskell activated their tricorders and began to scan the surrounding countryside.

If the situation were different, Dax would have commented on the beauty of their surroundings; the rolling hills edged by the beginnings of a forest. As it was, she knew that somewhere out there were her friends and she swore under her breath to find them. She turned to Worf, "We should split up. The less time we have to be here the better."

He nodded, "I agree. You and Andrews go east, Baskell and I will go west. You are to check in every fifteen minutes."

"Understood."

With Andrews in tow, she jogged off towards the nearest trees, intent on following the path through the forest.

Worf and Baskell walked in silence for a few minutes, cresting the first of the hills as the tricorder began to beep. Martin studied the readout and looked up at the Klingon, "I'm picking up a signal from the Amazon...it's fluctuating...it's..." he gazed at the instrument with a puzzled frown, realisation dawning, "Sir, it's set to self destruct!" Worf looked at him in alarm, his hand automatically reaching for his phaser, "Where?"

Baskell tapped the screen in frustration as the readings fluctuated and reset, "I'm not sure...I think it's coming from..." An almighty explosion rumbled across the countryside sending birds screeching to the sky along with a huge mushroom of smoke and debris. Baskell pointed, "There."

*** They had almost reached the forest's edge when the explosion hit. The runabout countdown hit zero and the little ship blew itself to pieces in a spectacular fire display which demolished half of the palace.

The concussion wave swept through the crowd outside the building, knocking them as one to the ground. Far too many didn't get up again as debris rained down on them.

As she watched Odo, O'Brien and Jhemor disappear past the first tree, Kira felt the heat of the blast hit her and the next thing she knew, she was face down in the dirt with a few other souls, nursing yet another headache.

She lifted her head and tried to call out to her friends, but they were already gone, unaware that she had fallen. Pushing herself to her feet she tried to remember exactly where they had been heading and set off after them at a slow jog.

A little way behind her, Marius grinned as he brushed himself down. He had seen the others disappear into the trees, he had seen the deviant fall. And he had seen her set off along the wrong forest path, her sense of direction knocked sideways by the blast.

This was going to be a lot easier than he had imagined.

Ignoring the calls of the wounded, frightened Merchants as they tried to come to terms with the devastation that was their world, he gave the burning remains of the palace a final, snarling look then ran off after Kira.

*** Dax and Andrews had instinctively taken cover at the sound of the explosion, unsure what would happen next. Andrews' tricorder readings had echoed those of Baskell and they knew that the blast could only have been the death throes of the Amazon.

They just had to hope that there had been no-one aboard when she finally blew.

Once they were sure that no other blasts would follow, the two women continued their slow walk along the forest path, Andrews taking constant readings and calling out the results to her commander.

It was her whispered cry of, "Company!" that had them both diving off the track and into the cover of the undergrowth as three figures left the forest and jogged past.

Dax allowed her head to peek up as she spied a very familiar set of simulated Bajoran boots. Her voice almost breaking she stumbled from her hiding place and called, "Odo! Chief!" The threesome ground to a halt and turned to face her and she grinned through the tears as the ruddy face of Miles O'Brien gaped in shock as he walked slowly towards her, "Dax?! Dax, is that you?"

Then she was caught up in an all too welcome bear hug, unable to draw breath as she gasped, "It's me! Oh, it's so good to see you."

He released her and she wiped a hand across her streaming eyes before looking him up and down with a broad smile, "I like the dress - very fetching."

He tried to glower at her, but didn't quite pull it off. The relief was too intense to be broken.

"How did you find us?" asked Odo as he shook the Trill's hand with his usual reserve.

Dax sniffed, "It's a long story. We saw the explosion and..." she glanced back along the road, "...isn't Kira with you?"

O'Brien and Odo looked at each other and the engineers face was grim, "We got split up back at the palace. She has to be round here somewhere."

A frantic groan from behind the Changeling drew Dax's attention to the third member of the party as a young boy hopped from foot to foot with impatience,. He tapped the Chief on the shoulder and pursed his lips, "We've got to go, Mr 'Brien, yes we have. She won't be on the road where all the people can see her. She's not stupid, no she's not." Dax watched in fascination as O'Brien placed a fatherly arm around the scrawny shoulders and said, "It's all right, Jhemor..."

A loud disruptor blast cut off his words as it echoed through the trees behind them. Without a word, he and Odo took off through the trees, Jhemor close behind them. Andrews and Dax drew their phasers and tried to keep up. *** Kira hadn't gone far before she realised she was heading in the wrong direction. The few people who had followed her were gone - familiar with the terrain and off in search of bolt holes - and she was alone. She stopped running and dropped to her knees by a fallen tree, her breath coming in heaving gulps as she tried to get her bearings.

She knew the others would come and look for her once they realised she was missing. Perhaps it would be best to stay where she was and wait for them rather than wander around in circles for hours on end.

A twig snapped behind her and she span round to face Marius. He was glaring at her with a fury which plunged new depths and she got slowly to her feet and clenched her fists at her side.

He stepped towards her, "If I were you, Deviant, I would start running."

Kira shook her head, "I won't play your game. I'm not afraid of you."

The tremor in her voice betrayed her and he laughed in her face, "Fine. Then we end this here."

With a flick of the wrist there was a knife in his hand. Kira stared at the well honed blade, took one look at the hate in his eyes and bolted. With a snarl, Marius charged after her, hunting her through the trees.

Kira ran like she had never ran before. She could hear Marius crashing through the undergrowth behind her and didn't look back.

Flashback to fifteen years ago - running scared through Tahna's Canyon with six Cardassian soldiers on her trail. A different kind of fear, though - she knew that Shakaar was waiting on the ridge with twenty of her friends; that as soon as she cleared the valley the Cardassians would be dead.

This time there was no-one waiting to open fire. Her friends were gone, the runabout destroyed. There was no way home and she mustn't slow down.

This was not Bajor, though, and she was running through unfamiliar territory. She had no idea where she was going whilst Marius had been born here. It didn't take long for him to work his way in front of her.

She burst through a patch of brambles, the barbs tearing at her legs and snagging the hem of her tunic. She tugged it free with a curse and turned to run again.

The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back in the dirt having charged headlong onto the overseer's fist as he stepped out of hiding in front of her. With a gasp of pain, she scrambled backwards, desperate to get away from him. A day ago he would have mocked her; played with her like a cat cornering a mouse. A day ago he was confident of his place in the world and knew that he was free to bully her and sure to win.

Now everything had changed and some-one had to pay. He tightened his grip on the dagger and stalked towards her.

Her head spinning, Kira scuttered back even faster, her hands scrabbling along the forest floor, unable to regain her footing before he was on her again. He bore down like a maniac and raised the knife for the killing blow. Her fingers closed round a fallen branch and she swung her arms up and clubbed him on the side of the head with all her strength. He fell back with a roar of fury and Kira was up and running again. Marius shook his head sharply as if to dislodge the pain and glared at her retreating back. Weighing his aim carefully, he flung the dagger.

Kira was almost in the dense safety of the trees when the blade hit, tearing across the back of her leg in a line of fire before lodging itself in the ground. She tried to carry on running, kn