Starbase 53 – A Life in Chains
No, I don't own ST:DS9 – if any of my original characters can be of use to anyone, please help yourself but don't forget to credit me!
This fic is an AU interpretation of the episode "Inquisition." What if Sloan was really from Internal Affairs? What if they really took Bashir rather than him being beamed out by the Vorta? What if there was no holodeck and it was all real?
(there is also another alternative episode ending which occurs in this fic, watch out for it, but it's fairly obvious)
Chapter 1 - Changes
It only took two days for my life to change forever. Two days when I expected to go to a medical conference and had instead ended up becoming a suspected spy, under arrest and imprisoned by Internal Affairs, under the command of a man crazed with grief and desperate to avenge the death of his son.
I was woken in the holding cell on DS9, late at night. As I stood up, I saw Sloan standing by the forcefield, looking in on me. It was then I found out about the Starfleet order and that I was to be escorted to Starbase 53, under arrest for espionage and treason.
I was led through the corridors of DS9 to the shuttlebay. As I was marched along, wearing restraints and surrounded by four guards, I passed my quarters, 011-335-679. The door was forced open and Internal Affairs people were walking in and out. The guards stopped to talk to their colleagues, and I was able to catch a sneaky glimpse inside. I regretted my illicit look instantly, as I saw my room emptied of everything which made it personal to me. It had been changed from the warm, comforting space into sterile guest quarters. I had made the station my home for years, now my home was being ripped apart by investigators. I saw one of them reach for my teddy bear, run a tricorder over it then place it in the replicator. I was nearly crying as I watched them laugh before de-materialising my teddy. The inert atoms swirled for a moment in the replicator before disappearing. I wondered how many more of my things had been destroyed in this way. The guards suddenly decided I had seen enough and pushed me forward. I had no choice but to fall in step and march along.
My wrists were itching under the restraints. They were on tightly and were very uncomfortable and I was starting to feel claustrophobic, surrounded by the guards. I felt like a Borg drone, rather than a Starfleet doctor. I wondered what was going to happen to me and what Starbase 53 would be like. I thought of the last prison, 371. When I was there, during the worst moments, I had thought I may never see Earth again, and I was beginning to feel the same worry. I must have slowed down because the guard behind prodded me with her phaser rifle and ordered me to keep moving. Numbly I complied, putting one foot in front of the other, walking on like a condemned man.
I felt so helpless as I walked. I was thinking about what Sloan had said yesterday during my first interrogation. He had asked me if I adapted to incarceration better than normal humans because of my modification. I had been angry when he asked that, but now I was starting to wonder whether my parents had been more astute with my modifications, implanting me with a prison-tolerance gene. Thinking of my parents brought the pain and worry back and I must have slowed down because the guard prodded me again and growled
"stop again and you'll regret it."
On we walked. I was slammed hard against the wall at one point, as a red shirted DS9 ensign passed by. Through the dim, night time lighting, I could barely make out her face and I could not recognise her. All I could see was the night lighting reflecting in her eyes as she looked straight at me. I met her eyes for an instant, trying to communicate with looks, trying to tell her to alert the captain. The guards must have noticed our looks, because they pushed at me more viciously, spinning me round so I could no longer see her. My hands hit the wall hard and I looked down, startled at the unexpected contact. I could not see my hands, only the shining metal growths of the restraints imprisoning my wrists. The whole situation was starting to hit home. I was beginning to realise how serious my position was. I was marched off towards the docking ring, all the time feeling as though I was wading through mud.
We arrived at the pylon, finally, after a walk that left me breathless though I ran longer distances for fun in the corridors after work. We stopped for a minute to allow the airlock to open, and over the clanking and scraping of the seals, I heard the noise of footsteps, running through the deserted corridors. My captors spun, drawing weapons and looking wildly into the darkness. I smiled, my genetically modified hearing had isolated the direction of the sound seconds before that of my guards. I congratulated myself on a point Sloan would never know I had won. This was what my life was to become, a small burst of satisfaction every time I beat them, in even a small way.
A figure materialised in the darkness. Sisko, with the red shirted ensign at his heels.
"Leaving already? Mr Sloan" he asked,
"Unfortunately" replied Sloan, with an icy smile," Duty calls."
"I'm sure" replied Sisko. "Though does that duty include forcibly removing a member of my senior staff without my prior authorisation?'
Starfleet seems to think so. Commander Sisko" smirked Sloan triumphantly. This special order gives me the right to neutralise any security risk to DS9 by whatever means necessary. As I have been explaining to your doctor only half an hour ago, neutralising the risk here means removing Bashir to a maximum security cell at Starbase 53. I have the authority. I have the right. Now step aside."
"No." rumbled Sisko ominously.
"I'm surprised to hear you say that, after all, he lied to you, you heard his admission yourself this morning. Is it really worth risking your career for a liar and a traitor? Step aside before I have you relieved and confined."
Grudgingly, Sisko moved. I remember looking at him, desperately. He shrugged. I imagined the movement of his shoulders was expressing regret and defeat. But he never met my gaze and I walked into that ship never knowing if he truly believed what Sloan had said.
The ship was an executive shuttle, much like the runabouts. It was fairly big, though I got no chance to appreciate this as I was flung into a chair. The chair faced the engineering console, though that was powered down blacker that the view from my window. They were taking no chances. Once we were settled, the pilot, a young African lieutenant, opened the Comm link and requested permission to leave. I waited for the assent of the faceless commander of D shift Ops.
The voice from the screen failed to give its assent. Instead. I heard the sharp, officious tones of Jadzia on the comm.
"Shuttle Navante. We are currently in the process of confirming your orders with Starfleet Command, please stand by."
"Hmm, they won't care this much when they finally realise it's true, will they?" Laughed the Yellowshirt ensign to his colleague. who still held a phaser rifle, the casual way the shoulder strap was slung across her body betraying her skill and experience with the weapon.
This comment stung me. but I waited with bated breath, hoping against hope, that Sisko had told Starfleet, that they had discovered the mistake, that the next hail would be an Admiral telling them to release me. It never came. Instead. I heard the crunching and groaning of the mooring clamps disengaging, releasing us to the cold clutches of space.
The journey was a long one. Our course had originally taken us on a flyby of the station, its cold geometry beautiful in the ethereal light of the wormhole, open to receive an incoming craft. That was the last view of the station I saw before the familiar, yet entirely alien warp pattern appeared in our windows, and we began to move at many times the speed of light. Those beautiful stars, stretched beyond all recognition into rainbow stripes that slashed into the fabric of space. Stars, laid out like cloaks on the road that led me far from everything I knew, into a new life. I was still deep in thought and daydream when the strain and the sleepless night caught up with me. I gradually felt my eyes closing and fought the hazy sensation of sleep. That was impossible, though. I had been deprived of good sleep for too long. My eyelids dropped.
I was suddenly jolted awake as the ship bucked and danced beneath me.
"Thought that was a rescue mission?" laughed Sloan from his position by the pilot's console. "Sorry to disappoint you, it's just some ion turbulence."
I did not bother to answer him, instead, I fixed my eyes on the blue haze of the ion storm, far into the distance, trying to reconcile myself to the fact that this would probably be the last time I would see it. Somehow, though, my brain would just not accept this fact. It kept saving to me "you survived before, you will again." I could not quite believe the voice, though. The small voice of hope inside my head was being slowly drowned out by the screaming of the nerves on my wrist, trapped by those restraints.
Though I had hoped to remain awake through the whole small act of defiance to my captors, to make their job slightly more difficult, I was lulled again by the comforting bleeps of the consoles and the hum of the life support systems. My tiredness returned, and soon I fell deep into a dreamless sea of pure black.
I was woken again by a prod on my shoulder. The command ensign was digging her phaser rifle into my shoulder, and talking. For a minute, I thought she was speaking Bolian, the words were so unfamiliar, but gradually I focussed on what she was saying.
"Time for food. Do you want it or not?" she snapped.
"Couldn't you have just waited for me to wake up?" I replied, blearily.
"Starfleet regulations specify that we offer a meal once every five hours. If you choose not to accept that meal that is your prerogative, but we will not be obliged to give you anything for the next five hours."
"OK then. I'll eat." I mumbled, as I felt hunger pangs in my stomach. I glanced up at the woman. and saw, for a minute the pure hate in her eyes as she looked down at me before turning on her heel and marching to the replicator.
The TKL stuck in my throat, their dryness causing me to choke. The redshirt walked over with a bottle, its dull metal glinting in the shuttle's stark fluorescent light. She paused long enough to remove the lid, before passing it to me. I gripped it with difficulty in one clammy hand, and drank deeply. It tasted foul, a drink designed to combat dehydration.
Five hours I had been on that shuttle, though, that was a frightening thought. I began to wonder how the nurse was coping hack home on DS9, and I was just thinking that I hoped she would be able to deal with O'Brien's shoulder, when I heard a gentle chime from the Comm unit. Sloan looked up, activated the screen and read a message, I could not see what it said. I did not risk squirming to try and see, I did not want to drop my bottle and TKL's and risk the wrath of the guard.
She returned, clutching a packet that sparkled in the light of the cabin. She threw it at me, I struggled to catch it. but the restraints were unwieldy, and it fell on the floor. Sighing angrily, she walked over and scooped it up, ripping the packet open before dropping it into my lap as though I were a small child. I sighed, TKL rations, it was hardly scones, Moba jam and Redleaf tea but it was better than nothing. The taste of these rations brought back a flood of memories. The Bajoran civil war, when we had lived up in the conduits for days, fighting together with Li Nalas to stop the Bajorans being invaded again by Cardassia.. It felt like a long time ago, when the Gamma quadrant was just a new part of space to explore, when no one knew about the Dominion.
Sloan had finished reading and, with a few typed commands, sent the message downloading into his PADD. Once the download was complete, he swivelled in his chair to face me and rose slowly to his feet. Holding the PADD in his left hand, he took a deep breath and began to speak.
"Doctor Julian Bashir. I have received order 66724 from Starfleet Command giving me the power to relieve you of all responsibilities relating to your post and to provisionally expel you from Starfleet pending an investigation of your alleged anti-Federation activities. Therefore, on Stardate 65357.1, you stand relieved. Furthermore, I am required to advise you that, from the above Stardate, your citizenship of the Federation has been provisionally revoked, with all the rights and privileges the aforementioned grants you. Well, Doctor, your distinguished career is obviously all over now. I hope that you consider the Dominion worth what you've just lost." He finished, with the merest hint of a smirk breaking the sombre tones of his voice.
"What happened to innocent until proved guilty? I'm not a traitor!"
Suddenly. it struck me what he had just said, what had just happened. I gasped, the bottle falling out of my hand. My god. I thought. That was it, it was all over now, and I had not done anything wrong. Nothing. The word echoed around my head, nothing, I had done nothing wrong, I had nothing left.
Authors note
This is a very old fanfic of mine, originally written in 1998, when the episode "Inquisition" first aired on BBC. It has been lost for a long time after a anti-virus related Windows 98 crash, and I am finally piecing it back together using OCR from the one hard copy I have. Hopefully i will be able to finish this task.
I hope you enjoy it, please read, review, whatever :)