Star Trek Deep Space Nine:
STRIDER
By Admiral Ael Danks
Disclaimer: Star Trek DS9 belongs to Paramount. I'm only borrowing it for a bit.
Genre: Horror/Mystery
Rating: R (death, graphic description of wounds and corpses)
Codes: B, O'B, D, crew
Summary: In an Alternate Timeline where O'Brien never left DS9, Jem'Hadar still take potshots at StarFleet ships, and Jadzia never died or married Worf, an evil alien lifeform wreaks havoc on Deep Space Nine. Takes place after an alternate "What You Leave Behind."
Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at a DS9 fic, and I've only seen a few episodes. Please bear with me, and don't flame me for any mistakes (point them out kindly instead).
Prologue
Night.
A gust of wind swept across the desolate plain. Sand blew up, then resettled with the sound of a death rattle. The land was flat and barren, and there was no one to be seen. Nothing could possibly live there. Everything seemed to be painted in grays and blacks. There was no color, only darkness and shadows. Here and there a few clumps of dried vegetation lay strewn about as if tossed aside by a child's whim. Scattered bones poked out of the ground at random intervals, and reddish stains covered the ground, creating the illusion that the entire area was an ocean of blood. Darkness prevailed.
Amongst the ashes and blood, a twisted structure rose into the gray sky. Wrapped in decayed vines, it didn't even look like a building. A jagged hole exposed the innards of the structure to the elements, like a gutted and rotting corpse. The entire area reeked of death and suffering.
Inside the crypt, however, the area was eerily clean. The floors were well polished, but seemed to absorb all light into their onyx depths. The room was huge, easily reaching a hundred feet on each of its three sides and fifty feet overhead.
At the center of the room, a blood-red box sat and waited for someone to come and open it. A name was scratched across the box.
STRIDER.
Chapter One
The black canvas of space lay open, inviting. Tiny pinpricks of light marked the presence of distant suns, scattered like sand across the vast darkness. A beautiful sphere, ringed with clouds and water, spun serenly as it lazily orbited a bright star. The system was called Bajor, and the planet shared the same name as well.
Also orbiting the bright sun was a dark, spidery framework of metal and reddish lights. The structure had a cylinder in the center, with large red lights on the bottom and several decks above. A ring of metal encircled the top of the cylinder, connected to it via three wide, long corridors. An even larger ring, even farther away from the center, was attached to the first ring by three long, mostly hollowed-out support struts. At the end of each corridor, a long, inwardly-curving pylon extended from the top of the ring. An identical pylon took shape below each upper structure in a three- dimensional reflection.
Behind that entire structure, the space station known as Deep Space Nine, a blue-and-orange ripple spread. The ripple opened like a flower, allowing a tiny ship to enter the tunnel created by the anomaly. The ship disappeared into the light, and the gateway vanished also. That gateway was known as the Celestial Temple of the Bajoran Prophets, but StarFleet personnel referred to it as "the wormhole." The sight of the phenomenon was soothing to many who watched, even if they were non-Bajorans.
Down in the Infirmary of DS9, however, Doctor and Chief Medical Officer Julian Bashir was unaware of the wormhole's activity. Instead, he faced his adversary over a desk, trying futilely to work on a medical report while arguing.
Bashir was a handsome man of British/Arabic descent. Tall for a human, he reached nearly 6 and a half feet. His hair was a dark brown, so dark it often appeared to be black, and his eyes were of a similar shade. Due to childhood genetic enhancements, everything about the man was nearly perfect. All of his senses were high above normal human levels, as well as various other skills in both physical and mental areas. Only in his thirties, most humanoids considered Bashir to be too young to be a doctor. Despite complaints about his age, the young human excelled in the medical field. However, one thing he lacked was the ability to convince certain people to give up.
"Look, Miles...I told you, I don't have time for a dart game tonight," the doctor said with a soft British accent. "I've got to finish filing these reports."
"Oh, come on, Julian," Miles O'Brien tried again, his Irish accent coming through as he became slightly frustrated.
O'Brien was also a human, from the same general region of Earth as Bashir. Though he was not quite as tall as Bashir, his height was average for a human of his age. His hair was short and curly, and seemed to show off the dark blond color wherever he went. O'Brien served as Chief of Operations on Deep Space Nine, even though he was a non-commissioned officer. Through many arguements and confrontations, he had eventually become Bashir's best friend. He had been the first to hear of Bashir's genetic enhancements, in full detail, from Bashir himself. During their off hours, the two friends usually played darts in Quark's Bar or took up a game of racquetball on O'Brien's personal court.
O'Brien tried again. "We haven't played darts in almost two weeks. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me."
Bashir hid a sigh. "It's not that, Chief..."
"Good, then I'll meet you at Quark's in half an hour." Without giving Bashir time to protest, O'Brien turned around and left the Infirmary.
"Damn."
~~~~~~~
Quark's Bar took up three levels of the Promenade, and was run by a group of money-loving Ferengi. The bar included holosuites, the dart board, a Dabo wheel, and drink replicators that were fully programmed for almost any kind of beverage. The bar was quite popular amongst off-duty personnel, as well as civilians. Occasionally, a visiting being would drop in to pay Quark, the owner of the bar, a visit. Illegal transactions were not at all uncommon, and shapeshifter security chief Odo was always watching the Ferengi in hopes of catching him red-handed. Which happened quite often, as it turns out.
The bar was crowded, as usual. Bashir scanned the crowd for O'Brien, and finally spotted him near the dart board. Bashir made his way through the crowd, and finally ended up somewhere near O'Brien.
"A bit crowded for darts, don't you think?" Bashir asked, raising his voice to be heard over the din. "I'm afraid I'll hit someone wandering through." He meaningfully glanced at the back of the room, where he usually stood for their dart games. The extra distance was a sort of handicap for the genetically-enhanced doctor, so that O'Brien could still have a chance against his superior hand-eye coordination.
"Actually," O'Brien said, leaning against the bar, "I was thinking we could join the rest of the senior staff in Holosuite 2."
Bashir was suddenly suspicious. "All right, what in the galaxy did you plan for me?" he demanded.
O'Brien flinched. He hadn't expected Bashir to pick up on it that fast. "What makes you think we're doing something?" he asked, trying to act casual.
"Because whenever you try to get me into something that I don't know about, your fingers twitch," Bashir answered immediately. "It's a dead give-away, if you ask me. Which you did. So, what is it you have planned for me this time?"
O'Brien was saved from answering by the arrival of Jadzia Dax. Jadzia was a Trill: a humanoid with dark spots on her face and neck. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her eyes missed nothing. On the outside, she appeared fairly normal. However, she was a Joined Trill. Being a Joined Trill meant that she carried a three-hundred-year-old symbiont, which looked rather like a slug, inside of her. The symbiont, which was named Dax, was mentally attached to Jadzia. The two were merged together, and the Dax symbiont also held the memories and experiences of the seven previous Dax hosts.
"Chief, I see you found Bellerophon," Dax said with a grin. "Come on, Julian, let's get over to the holosuite." She grabbed him by the arm and began to haul him in the direction of the holosuites.
Bashir cast a confused glance in O'Brien's direction, but the Chief only shrugged and smiled, following along. "It's a tradition I brought over from the Enterprise," O'Brien finally said as they neared the holosuite doors. "I hope you don't mind."
~~~~~~~
From a thousand feet in the air, Bashir's outraged voice called out, "Miles, when I get done with this thing I'm going to kill you too!"
The doctor was bedecked in light armor, with a shield on his left arm and a sharp sword in his right hand. Being skilled in the use of a British broadsword, the lighter weapon wasn't too hard to wield. His shield displayed the StarFleet crest, with a stylized pair of wings outstretched from behind the emblem and curved forward as if to cradle the symbol. His armor consisted of interlocking, thin but strong metal that protected almost his entire body, only leaving his face and hands unshielded.
He sat astride a magnificent silvery horse. The horse was extremely muscular and fleet, and sported a large pair of wings that seemed to sprout from its shoulders. The Pegasus, for that's what it was, wore a jeweled gold bridle that caught the sun and reflected spears of light in every direction. Pegasus snorted and shifted about impatiently. It turned its head and gave Bashir its most reassuring look.
Beneath the pair was a monster, straight out of Greek mythology. It was the Chimera: a snakelike creature with the head of a lion, the head of a snake, and the head of an ugly goat. Smoke billowed from the nostrils of all three heads, and it reached up with its wicked talons to try and swat the winged horse and its rider from the sky.
Of course, the entire ordeal was holographic, but Bashir didn't exactly care at that moment in time. He was only aware of the winged horse, the monster, and his fury. Even so, he knew he had to complete this trial if he was to achieve his goal and win his prize.
Signaling Pegasus to charge, Bashir hefted his sword and made a slash as they passed the creature. Pegasus flew so swiftly, he couldn't tell if he'd done any damage to the monster at first.
Then the winged horse swung around, and Bashir could see that the goat's head had been almost completely hacked off, held on only by a thin flap of skin. But even as the goat's head ceased to smoke, the other two heads became more furious and their smoke increased. Roaring and hissing in rage, the Chimera breathed massive streams of raging flame at Bashir.
Pegasus nearly caught the twin blasts, but Bashir reacted quickly and signaled the flying beast to dive down low, under the inferno. He felt the heat singe his hair, and sparks flew off his shoulder plates.
"Another pass, Pegasus!" he called to the flighted stallion, and it whinnied in response. Pegasus once again dove toward the Chimera, and it threw flames at them.
Bashir ducked the fire and stabbed blindly upward with the sword. He felt part of his armor melt at the heat, but the sword hit something solid.
Prancing away again in midair, Pegasus darted out of the reach of the wounded creature. The lion's head was mortally wounded, roaring in pain. Thick, steaming blood gushed from an ugly slash on its forehead. The head finally went limp, and the smoke left it.
The snake's head, on the other hand, had become twice as fierce and venomous as before. It struck out at Pegasus and Bashir, cutting the horse's wing and dealt a harsh blow to the doctor's sword arm. Bashir cried out in pain and anxiety as Pegasus also began to scream in agony.
"Come on, Pegasus, it's not that much more," Bashir said through the excruciating pain. "Just one more pass, and it dies."
The horse calmed slightly, and though it still flew as if drunk it could still maneuver enough to attack the Chimera yet again. Turning in a pirouette, the mythical horse faced the hissing, spitting monster again.
This time, as the snake's head opened its jaws to deliver another blast, Bashir directed Pegasus to fly almost directly into the creature's mouth. He held up his shield as the flames beat at him, fighting to keep from crying out as a bit of the fire reached around and swiped across his face.
The Chimera clamped its wicked talons around Pegasus, reaching down with its one remaining head to tear at the vulnerable rider. But in doing so, it left its chest completely unprotected.
Taking his chance, Bashir thrust his sword deep into the Chimera's heart. The monster shrieked, and then released its grip on Pegasus and Bashir. It fell over, dead at last. The Chimera's fire, instead of being put out, consumed the entire beast until there was only ashes and bones left.
From the ground, the command staff burst into applause. Glaring down at them, Bashir signaled Pegasus to land in front of them. He jumped off the winged horse before it got a chance to land, and then held out his uninjured hand. "Okay, 'King Iobates'," Bashir said somewhat sarcastically to Sisko, "I've come for my reward."
Sisko grinned and dropped Bashir's prize into the doctor's hand. "Congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant-Commander Bashir!"
As the simulated battleground shimmered and disappeared, so did Bashir's wounds. His armor reverted back to a standard StarFleet uniform, and he reached up to the collar of his shirt. When he took his hand away, three pips shone brightly on his neck. He finally grinned at his friends. "Well, I must say, that's certainly the oddest thing I've ever done for a promotion..."
The group exited the holosuite, and were greeted by Quark, who already had drinks poured in celebration of Bashir's promotion. Bashir narrowed his eyes at the Ferengi, who made no effort to conceal his hope that someone would hand over a few bars of gold-pressed latinum. "Did everyone know about this promotion except me?" the doctor asked.
O'Brien shrugged and grabbed a glass of scotch from Quark's tray. "Probably, considering that's how Enterprise tradition usually goes. When Deanna Troi got promoted, we threw her to the lions."
Bashir laughed. "I'm sure she was utterly thrilled."
"That she was," O'Brien said cheerfully. He looked over at the dartboard. "Well, want to get in a game tonight?"
Bashir shrugged. "I suppose so, if you want to. But just one."
While the rest of the senior staff got their own drinks, O'Brien and Bashir made their way over to the dartboard. O'Brien picked up Bashir's darts and handed them to the doctor, then picked up his own and took aim. The crowd had somewhat cleared around the dartboard area, thereby eliminating the danger of someone losing an eye.
"So how's it feel to be another step up the rank ladder?" O'Brien asked as he released his first dart. A double ten.
Bashir considered that for a moment, twirling a dart around in his fingers. "Not much different than being a Lieutenant," he admitted. "Although that could be because you had me go up against that awful Chimera in order to get my pips."
"Hey, it's tradition." O'Brien's second dart hit the thirty-point section of the dartboard. "Can't argue with that."
"No, I suppose not." Bashir watched in mild amusement as O'Brien's third dart struck the triple-thirteen. The Irishman stepped forward and removed his darts from the board.
"Come on, Chief," Bashir said with a smile, "let me show you how a real man plays darts." He moved to his usual spot, near the back of the room, and took aim. His first dart hit the bullseye, directly in the center.
O'Brien raised an eyebrow. "Been practicing?"
"Not really," Bashir said, aiming with the second. "This distance should still be a challenge for me." He nearly freaked out when the second dart also hit the center of the bullseye, deeply scratching the side of the first dart.
He glanced over at O'Brien, who was staring at the dartboard in astonishment. "Uh...Julian? How the hell are you doing that?" O'Brien asked, shocked.
Bashir shook his head in confusion. "I'm going to try something." He closed his eyes and raised his arm, trying to feel for where to throw the dart. Drawing his hand back, he snapped his wrist forward and released the dart.
Thunk.
He opened his eyes. The third dart had hit center, knocking the first two completely off the board.
"So much for my blindfold idea," O'Brien said, still stunned.
"Miles, I'm sorry," Bashir said after a moment, still staring at the darts.
O'Brien shook his head. "For what? For winning?"
Bashir faltered. "I'm...going to go get some sleep. See you tomorrow, Miles." He was gone before the Chief could protest.
By Admiral Ael Danks
Disclaimer: Star Trek DS9 belongs to Paramount. I'm only borrowing it for a bit.
Genre: Horror/Mystery
Rating: R (death, graphic description of wounds and corpses)
Codes: B, O'B, D, crew
Summary: In an Alternate Timeline where O'Brien never left DS9, Jem'Hadar still take potshots at StarFleet ships, and Jadzia never died or married Worf, an evil alien lifeform wreaks havoc on Deep Space Nine. Takes place after an alternate "What You Leave Behind."
Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at a DS9 fic, and I've only seen a few episodes. Please bear with me, and don't flame me for any mistakes (point them out kindly instead).
Prologue
Night.
A gust of wind swept across the desolate plain. Sand blew up, then resettled with the sound of a death rattle. The land was flat and barren, and there was no one to be seen. Nothing could possibly live there. Everything seemed to be painted in grays and blacks. There was no color, only darkness and shadows. Here and there a few clumps of dried vegetation lay strewn about as if tossed aside by a child's whim. Scattered bones poked out of the ground at random intervals, and reddish stains covered the ground, creating the illusion that the entire area was an ocean of blood. Darkness prevailed.
Amongst the ashes and blood, a twisted structure rose into the gray sky. Wrapped in decayed vines, it didn't even look like a building. A jagged hole exposed the innards of the structure to the elements, like a gutted and rotting corpse. The entire area reeked of death and suffering.
Inside the crypt, however, the area was eerily clean. The floors were well polished, but seemed to absorb all light into their onyx depths. The room was huge, easily reaching a hundred feet on each of its three sides and fifty feet overhead.
At the center of the room, a blood-red box sat and waited for someone to come and open it. A name was scratched across the box.
STRIDER.
Chapter One
The black canvas of space lay open, inviting. Tiny pinpricks of light marked the presence of distant suns, scattered like sand across the vast darkness. A beautiful sphere, ringed with clouds and water, spun serenly as it lazily orbited a bright star. The system was called Bajor, and the planet shared the same name as well.
Also orbiting the bright sun was a dark, spidery framework of metal and reddish lights. The structure had a cylinder in the center, with large red lights on the bottom and several decks above. A ring of metal encircled the top of the cylinder, connected to it via three wide, long corridors. An even larger ring, even farther away from the center, was attached to the first ring by three long, mostly hollowed-out support struts. At the end of each corridor, a long, inwardly-curving pylon extended from the top of the ring. An identical pylon took shape below each upper structure in a three- dimensional reflection.
Behind that entire structure, the space station known as Deep Space Nine, a blue-and-orange ripple spread. The ripple opened like a flower, allowing a tiny ship to enter the tunnel created by the anomaly. The ship disappeared into the light, and the gateway vanished also. That gateway was known as the Celestial Temple of the Bajoran Prophets, but StarFleet personnel referred to it as "the wormhole." The sight of the phenomenon was soothing to many who watched, even if they were non-Bajorans.
Down in the Infirmary of DS9, however, Doctor and Chief Medical Officer Julian Bashir was unaware of the wormhole's activity. Instead, he faced his adversary over a desk, trying futilely to work on a medical report while arguing.
Bashir was a handsome man of British/Arabic descent. Tall for a human, he reached nearly 6 and a half feet. His hair was a dark brown, so dark it often appeared to be black, and his eyes were of a similar shade. Due to childhood genetic enhancements, everything about the man was nearly perfect. All of his senses were high above normal human levels, as well as various other skills in both physical and mental areas. Only in his thirties, most humanoids considered Bashir to be too young to be a doctor. Despite complaints about his age, the young human excelled in the medical field. However, one thing he lacked was the ability to convince certain people to give up.
"Look, Miles...I told you, I don't have time for a dart game tonight," the doctor said with a soft British accent. "I've got to finish filing these reports."
"Oh, come on, Julian," Miles O'Brien tried again, his Irish accent coming through as he became slightly frustrated.
O'Brien was also a human, from the same general region of Earth as Bashir. Though he was not quite as tall as Bashir, his height was average for a human of his age. His hair was short and curly, and seemed to show off the dark blond color wherever he went. O'Brien served as Chief of Operations on Deep Space Nine, even though he was a non-commissioned officer. Through many arguements and confrontations, he had eventually become Bashir's best friend. He had been the first to hear of Bashir's genetic enhancements, in full detail, from Bashir himself. During their off hours, the two friends usually played darts in Quark's Bar or took up a game of racquetball on O'Brien's personal court.
O'Brien tried again. "We haven't played darts in almost two weeks. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me."
Bashir hid a sigh. "It's not that, Chief..."
"Good, then I'll meet you at Quark's in half an hour." Without giving Bashir time to protest, O'Brien turned around and left the Infirmary.
"Damn."
~~~~~~~
Quark's Bar took up three levels of the Promenade, and was run by a group of money-loving Ferengi. The bar included holosuites, the dart board, a Dabo wheel, and drink replicators that were fully programmed for almost any kind of beverage. The bar was quite popular amongst off-duty personnel, as well as civilians. Occasionally, a visiting being would drop in to pay Quark, the owner of the bar, a visit. Illegal transactions were not at all uncommon, and shapeshifter security chief Odo was always watching the Ferengi in hopes of catching him red-handed. Which happened quite often, as it turns out.
The bar was crowded, as usual. Bashir scanned the crowd for O'Brien, and finally spotted him near the dart board. Bashir made his way through the crowd, and finally ended up somewhere near O'Brien.
"A bit crowded for darts, don't you think?" Bashir asked, raising his voice to be heard over the din. "I'm afraid I'll hit someone wandering through." He meaningfully glanced at the back of the room, where he usually stood for their dart games. The extra distance was a sort of handicap for the genetically-enhanced doctor, so that O'Brien could still have a chance against his superior hand-eye coordination.
"Actually," O'Brien said, leaning against the bar, "I was thinking we could join the rest of the senior staff in Holosuite 2."
Bashir was suddenly suspicious. "All right, what in the galaxy did you plan for me?" he demanded.
O'Brien flinched. He hadn't expected Bashir to pick up on it that fast. "What makes you think we're doing something?" he asked, trying to act casual.
"Because whenever you try to get me into something that I don't know about, your fingers twitch," Bashir answered immediately. "It's a dead give-away, if you ask me. Which you did. So, what is it you have planned for me this time?"
O'Brien was saved from answering by the arrival of Jadzia Dax. Jadzia was a Trill: a humanoid with dark spots on her face and neck. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her eyes missed nothing. On the outside, she appeared fairly normal. However, she was a Joined Trill. Being a Joined Trill meant that she carried a three-hundred-year-old symbiont, which looked rather like a slug, inside of her. The symbiont, which was named Dax, was mentally attached to Jadzia. The two were merged together, and the Dax symbiont also held the memories and experiences of the seven previous Dax hosts.
"Chief, I see you found Bellerophon," Dax said with a grin. "Come on, Julian, let's get over to the holosuite." She grabbed him by the arm and began to haul him in the direction of the holosuites.
Bashir cast a confused glance in O'Brien's direction, but the Chief only shrugged and smiled, following along. "It's a tradition I brought over from the Enterprise," O'Brien finally said as they neared the holosuite doors. "I hope you don't mind."
~~~~~~~
From a thousand feet in the air, Bashir's outraged voice called out, "Miles, when I get done with this thing I'm going to kill you too!"
The doctor was bedecked in light armor, with a shield on his left arm and a sharp sword in his right hand. Being skilled in the use of a British broadsword, the lighter weapon wasn't too hard to wield. His shield displayed the StarFleet crest, with a stylized pair of wings outstretched from behind the emblem and curved forward as if to cradle the symbol. His armor consisted of interlocking, thin but strong metal that protected almost his entire body, only leaving his face and hands unshielded.
He sat astride a magnificent silvery horse. The horse was extremely muscular and fleet, and sported a large pair of wings that seemed to sprout from its shoulders. The Pegasus, for that's what it was, wore a jeweled gold bridle that caught the sun and reflected spears of light in every direction. Pegasus snorted and shifted about impatiently. It turned its head and gave Bashir its most reassuring look.
Beneath the pair was a monster, straight out of Greek mythology. It was the Chimera: a snakelike creature with the head of a lion, the head of a snake, and the head of an ugly goat. Smoke billowed from the nostrils of all three heads, and it reached up with its wicked talons to try and swat the winged horse and its rider from the sky.
Of course, the entire ordeal was holographic, but Bashir didn't exactly care at that moment in time. He was only aware of the winged horse, the monster, and his fury. Even so, he knew he had to complete this trial if he was to achieve his goal and win his prize.
Signaling Pegasus to charge, Bashir hefted his sword and made a slash as they passed the creature. Pegasus flew so swiftly, he couldn't tell if he'd done any damage to the monster at first.
Then the winged horse swung around, and Bashir could see that the goat's head had been almost completely hacked off, held on only by a thin flap of skin. But even as the goat's head ceased to smoke, the other two heads became more furious and their smoke increased. Roaring and hissing in rage, the Chimera breathed massive streams of raging flame at Bashir.
Pegasus nearly caught the twin blasts, but Bashir reacted quickly and signaled the flying beast to dive down low, under the inferno. He felt the heat singe his hair, and sparks flew off his shoulder plates.
"Another pass, Pegasus!" he called to the flighted stallion, and it whinnied in response. Pegasus once again dove toward the Chimera, and it threw flames at them.
Bashir ducked the fire and stabbed blindly upward with the sword. He felt part of his armor melt at the heat, but the sword hit something solid.
Prancing away again in midair, Pegasus darted out of the reach of the wounded creature. The lion's head was mortally wounded, roaring in pain. Thick, steaming blood gushed from an ugly slash on its forehead. The head finally went limp, and the smoke left it.
The snake's head, on the other hand, had become twice as fierce and venomous as before. It struck out at Pegasus and Bashir, cutting the horse's wing and dealt a harsh blow to the doctor's sword arm. Bashir cried out in pain and anxiety as Pegasus also began to scream in agony.
"Come on, Pegasus, it's not that much more," Bashir said through the excruciating pain. "Just one more pass, and it dies."
The horse calmed slightly, and though it still flew as if drunk it could still maneuver enough to attack the Chimera yet again. Turning in a pirouette, the mythical horse faced the hissing, spitting monster again.
This time, as the snake's head opened its jaws to deliver another blast, Bashir directed Pegasus to fly almost directly into the creature's mouth. He held up his shield as the flames beat at him, fighting to keep from crying out as a bit of the fire reached around and swiped across his face.
The Chimera clamped its wicked talons around Pegasus, reaching down with its one remaining head to tear at the vulnerable rider. But in doing so, it left its chest completely unprotected.
Taking his chance, Bashir thrust his sword deep into the Chimera's heart. The monster shrieked, and then released its grip on Pegasus and Bashir. It fell over, dead at last. The Chimera's fire, instead of being put out, consumed the entire beast until there was only ashes and bones left.
From the ground, the command staff burst into applause. Glaring down at them, Bashir signaled Pegasus to land in front of them. He jumped off the winged horse before it got a chance to land, and then held out his uninjured hand. "Okay, 'King Iobates'," Bashir said somewhat sarcastically to Sisko, "I've come for my reward."
Sisko grinned and dropped Bashir's prize into the doctor's hand. "Congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant-Commander Bashir!"
As the simulated battleground shimmered and disappeared, so did Bashir's wounds. His armor reverted back to a standard StarFleet uniform, and he reached up to the collar of his shirt. When he took his hand away, three pips shone brightly on his neck. He finally grinned at his friends. "Well, I must say, that's certainly the oddest thing I've ever done for a promotion..."
The group exited the holosuite, and were greeted by Quark, who already had drinks poured in celebration of Bashir's promotion. Bashir narrowed his eyes at the Ferengi, who made no effort to conceal his hope that someone would hand over a few bars of gold-pressed latinum. "Did everyone know about this promotion except me?" the doctor asked.
O'Brien shrugged and grabbed a glass of scotch from Quark's tray. "Probably, considering that's how Enterprise tradition usually goes. When Deanna Troi got promoted, we threw her to the lions."
Bashir laughed. "I'm sure she was utterly thrilled."
"That she was," O'Brien said cheerfully. He looked over at the dartboard. "Well, want to get in a game tonight?"
Bashir shrugged. "I suppose so, if you want to. But just one."
While the rest of the senior staff got their own drinks, O'Brien and Bashir made their way over to the dartboard. O'Brien picked up Bashir's darts and handed them to the doctor, then picked up his own and took aim. The crowd had somewhat cleared around the dartboard area, thereby eliminating the danger of someone losing an eye.
"So how's it feel to be another step up the rank ladder?" O'Brien asked as he released his first dart. A double ten.
Bashir considered that for a moment, twirling a dart around in his fingers. "Not much different than being a Lieutenant," he admitted. "Although that could be because you had me go up against that awful Chimera in order to get my pips."
"Hey, it's tradition." O'Brien's second dart hit the thirty-point section of the dartboard. "Can't argue with that."
"No, I suppose not." Bashir watched in mild amusement as O'Brien's third dart struck the triple-thirteen. The Irishman stepped forward and removed his darts from the board.
"Come on, Chief," Bashir said with a smile, "let me show you how a real man plays darts." He moved to his usual spot, near the back of the room, and took aim. His first dart hit the bullseye, directly in the center.
O'Brien raised an eyebrow. "Been practicing?"
"Not really," Bashir said, aiming with the second. "This distance should still be a challenge for me." He nearly freaked out when the second dart also hit the center of the bullseye, deeply scratching the side of the first dart.
He glanced over at O'Brien, who was staring at the dartboard in astonishment. "Uh...Julian? How the hell are you doing that?" O'Brien asked, shocked.
Bashir shook his head in confusion. "I'm going to try something." He closed his eyes and raised his arm, trying to feel for where to throw the dart. Drawing his hand back, he snapped his wrist forward and released the dart.
Thunk.
He opened his eyes. The third dart had hit center, knocking the first two completely off the board.
"So much for my blindfold idea," O'Brien said, still stunned.
"Miles, I'm sorry," Bashir said after a moment, still staring at the darts.
O'Brien shook his head. "For what? For winning?"
Bashir faltered. "I'm...going to go get some sleep. See you tomorrow, Miles." He was gone before the Chief could protest.