>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Pain of Memory

By Gabrielle Lawson
with the generous help of Jo Burgess

Part Three

More nightmares than usual plagued him that night as he slept, and he awoke feeling that he'd had no rest at all. The Dickens book glared at him from its spot near Kukalaka on the shelf. "Maybe the computers are right," he argued at the book. "Maybe it's nothing. Just stress. I've got a lot of reasons to be stressed." Feeling no better, he stepped out the door. He paused for a moment there, trying to orient himself. He closed his eyes, blocking out the confusing corridors, and remembered. He opened his eyes again and walked right to the corridor that would take him over to the wardroom.

The briefing was thankfully short, with nothing new to report except the usual lost ships and casualties. The Klingon border was heating up. Martok was going back out. The Defiant was prepared to leave the next evening for convoy duty. The Enirak was still a mystery. The briefing broke up in a little over a quarter of an hour. Odo shared the turbolift with Bashir as they went down to the Promenade. There was little to say though, and, thankfully, Odo wasn't the most conversational of people. Bashir didn't feel like talking, so they rode the lift in silence and were deposited on the lower level of the Promenade without having said a word to each other. Odo nodded as he turned off to the Security office and Bashir was alone again, though the Promenade was already crowded.

The Infirmary was not far away and he felt a panic rise up his stomach. Dear God, he prayed silently, though he really didn't know if there was such a thing, please don't let there be any patients today. He stepped toward the door and it opened.

Nurse Jabara was already there and she smiled. "Good morning!"

Bashir forced a smile and returned her greeting, but he was really looking around the Infirmary. There was no one else there. He felt a wave of relief. "I have some paperwork to do today," he lied. "I'll be in my office if you need me."

An hour later there was a chime at his door and he jumped. "Come in," he choked out.

Jabara stuck her head in. "Crewman Swenson has returned."

Bashir forced himself to breathe, to act normal. "Alright," he said, smiling. "I'll be right out."

She left and his mind raced. She had said 'returned.' Crewman Swenson had been in before. Yesterday. He remembered now and chastised himself. How could he forget? He called up his medical logs from the day before. He found Swenson's name and the notes he'd made. Tonsilitis. A second dose of antibiotics was needed. He sighed. He could do that. He pushed himself up out of the chair and out of the office. He found Swenson sitting on a biobed.

"Feeling better?" Bashir asked, trying to sound cheerful, as he reached for the hypospray. He double-checked the name on the antibiotics before he loaded the hypospray, making sure that it was the right one.

Swenson smiled. "Much," he said. "My throat feels fine today."

"Well," Bashir replied as he placed the hypospray to Swenson's neck. "This should do it for you then."

"I guess that means I have to go back to work, huh?" Swenson teased.

Bashir let his false smile widen. "I'm afraid so."

Swenson left and Bashir returned to the safety of his office. He made sure he filled out a report right away, before he could forget or get confused. He spent the rest of the day as a recluse, going over files as he had the night before. There had to be something in them. But today, the files were harder to read, the information more distant, like a secret code he didn't have the key to. Anatomy was the easiest. More figures and graphs than the others. He studied the anatomy of the most common species on the station and hoped that none of them would come walking through the door with so much as a stomach ache.


It was still early when he entered the Habitat Ring, and he felt glad that the corridors were fairly empty. Most people were still out, on duty or on the Promenade, relaxing at the end of the workday. He turned the last corner and nearly walked into the door when it didn't open for him. He was just about to ask the computer about that little glitch when he noted the number beside the door. It wasn't his quarters. He was at least two sections away. How did that happen? he wondered. It wasn't like he didn't know the way to his own quarters.

When he reentered the main corridor, he felt a little dizzy. It all looked right. Of course, it does, he told himself. The station was symmetrical. In general, one section looked like any other on the same deck. He felt a moment's panic when he couldn't decide whether he needed to go right or left to reach his section. Left, he reasoned finally, deciding he was much too tired and should probably skip dinner altogether in favor of sleep.

A second time, he thought he'd come to his quarters, but the numbers were still wrong. Finally, he decided to just read the numbers and follow them that way. He found his quarters easily enough then, though he had to walk for another ten minutes. He was grateful when his door obediently opened before him. Kukalaka's stuffed gaze met his own when he entered, confirming this as home. "Good to see you," he told the little bear. "You wouldn't believe the night I've been having."


That night, once he was back in his quarters, was no different from the previous, though he was less sure now that it was his enhancements. And then five minutes later, he'd be more certain that it was. He couldn't decide. He awoke in the morning with a sense of dread. Another day. He'd been lucky the day before. There were more than a thousand people on the station. There would be a patient today. He shook slightly and forced himself to be calm. But the doubts still plagued him. What if the patient was critical? He was afraid he wouldn't be able to handle it. He'd gone over and over medical texts for the last two days, trying to reinforce what he knew he already knew. But he still wasn't sure.

And then there was guilt. He hadn't told anyone yet. It was wrong to keep it a secret. He was the doctor. He had a responsibility. The whole station counted on him, and now he couldn't be counted on. He should step down, at least temporarily, until the whole problem got sorted out.

If it ever got sorted out. He'd run so many tests already. As far as he could tell, he'd still come out normal. He had tried to find another explanation beyond the enhancements, but he couldn't. It had been nagging at him all during the restless night. He was coming undone. Who was he to think that he was better than Jack and Patrick and the other 'mutants'? He had thought himself lucky. Now his arrogance was mocking him. He was no better. His days of glory were over before they'd ever really gotten going. He was coming undone. He was born slow, unable to understand even simple things. He was returning to that level.

But he knew what to do about it. He could resign. But not in front of everyone. He'd wait until the briefing was over and he could be alone with Sisko. He'd been prepared to do it before. He could do it now. He would leave the station quietly and just disappear. No one needed to know. He'd go home.

That decided, he finished dressing and let the door to his quarters open. He closed his eyes against the wave of dizziness that hit him as soon as he saw the corridors. He concentrated hard, remembering the path to the wardroom. He could see it in his mind. He'd traveled that way so many times before. He opened his eyes and followed the memories down the corridor.

He was the last to enter, but he was only just behind Odo and Kira. "Good morning," Sisko said when everyone sat down. "We've got a busy day, so let's get down to business. Worf?"

"I think I found it, Captain," Worf answered. He handed a PADD to Sisko. "But I'd think fresh opinions would be better."

Sisko read over the PADD and nodded. "Good work, Commander." He passed the PADD to O'Brien. "Do you concur with his analysis?" he asked O'Brien. Then he addressed everyone at the briefing. "I want all of you to take a look at this. See what you make of it. We have to be certain."

O'Brien read over the PADD, nodded to the captain, and then passed it to Ezri. His face had grown a shade more pale. Ezri's brows furrowed, but she said nothing. She handed the PADD to Kira. Kira read it and her shoulders dropped. It was the only clue she gave to the contents of the PADD. But Bashir assumed it had something to do with the Vesmir, since Worf had been working on that for a few weeks now.

Finally, the PADD came to Bashir. He scrolled back to the top of the document and peered closely at it. And then he froze. He focused on the first word there. He could see the letters, even name them. The first was an 'A.' But he couldn't make out the word. A sense of panic gripped him and he stood. Every head in the room turned toward him, but he hardly noticed. His eyes were still riveted on the first word on the PADD. "Julian?" he heard O'Brien ask in concern. Only then did he realize they were watching him. But things had just spiraled out of his control. The whole world, as he knew it, had just come to an end. He couldn't speak. Couldn't explain. He couldn't think about anything but that first word and the end of everything else. He bolted from the room.


Sisko watched each face as they read the PADD. The Cardassians- -and by default, the Dominion--were working on a cloaking device. And they were trying to use Gidari technology to get it. That was his own reading of the analysis by Worf. He would see if the others agreed. The implications were big. Cloaks could only make the already powerful alliance more dangerous. On the other hand, the destruction of the Enirak meant they were, so far, unsuccessful in their attempts. But the Gidari material found in the debris could mean the Gidari were entering the conflict.

O'Brien nodded. He saw a cloak in it as well. He handed the the PADD to Ezri, who read it and passed it to Kira. Her shoulders dropped. She saw the threat, too. Odo merely grunted, which could mean just about anything with him. Bashir took him completely by surprise. Bashir stared hard at the PADD and then stood. Sisko would have guessed he was in shock. "Julian?" O'Brien asked. Bashir looked up, his eyes filled with terror. Then he bolted from the room, taking the PADD with him.

Sisko had not expected such a reaction out of anyone, least of all Bashir. The information on the PADD was important, but not immediately drastic. Nothing worth terror like that anyway. "Mr. Worf," he said, pushing up from his chair, "carry on without me."

"Sir," O'Brien stood, too. "I'd like to come."

Sisko knew they were friends. But something was obviously very wrong with the doctor. One person chasing him down was probably enough. "Not this time, Chief," he replied, softly. "Worf needs your input. I'll let you know."

Now Ezri stood up. "Maybe I should go." She was the counselor after all.

"Not this time, Old Man," Sisko insisted. He left the wardroom and contacted the computer from the corridor. "Computer, locate Doctor Julian Bashir."

"Doctor Bashir is in Turbolift Seven."

Sisko sighed and took off in the direction of Turbolift Seven. The doors opened immediately when he approached them. No one was inside. Bashir was already gone, but his comm badge was on the floor of the lift. He didn't want to be found. Sisko felt a twinge of doubt mixed with worry. Maybe Section 31 had taken this as an opportunity to snatch him from the station again. He shook it off. That didn't explain Bashir's reaction to the PADD. Sisko couldn't really think of anything that did.

Ordinarily, it would be nearly impossible to find someone without a comm badge on. But since Sisko didn't see the PADD on the floor, he assumed Bashir still had it. "Computer, locate PADD G4."

"PADD G4 is in Runabout Pad E."

Another twinge. Bashir was a changeling again, trying to leave the station. But that one didn't wash either. That runabout pad was currently empty. The runabouts were out on maneuvers today. "Take me to Runabout Pad E," he ordered the computer. The turbolift began to move.

The viewscreen outside the pad showed only darkness. If Bashir was in there, he hadn't turned on the lights. Sisko turned on a few of the lights from where he was. It was enough to see by, but hopefully not enough to further disturb the doctor. He tried the airlock door. It was locked. "Computer, override," he ordered, "Authorization Sisko one alpha seven." There was a moment while the computer processed the request. It was a short moment, no more than a few seconds, but it was long enough for Sisko to worry that Bashir may have bypassed his security authorization. Bashir was intelligent, more so than he often seemed. And he often seemed brilliant. He could lock anyone out if he put his mind to it. But the door opened. Sisko stepped through and expected to find the next door locked as well. It opened obediently before him though, and he entered the dimly lit runabout pad.


It was a large area, but Bashir was not hard to find. He was sitting in the corner, still holding the PADD. But he wasn't looking at it. His head was leaning back against the wall. He stared at the dark ceiling and didn't even move when Sisko came in. "I thought maybe," he spoke quietly, "maybe I was just tired, or . . . or maybe over-stressed."

Besides the slight stutter, Bashir's words were calm, the complete opposite of his reaction in the wardroom. Sisko walked gently, not wanting the sound of his boots to disturb the quiet in the pad. "What's wrong, Julian?" And he realized he hadn't used the doctor's first name in months. What had happened between them? Sisko felt it was his own fault. He knew it was. But there were things which took precedence. Ordinarily. For now, Bashir was the priority.

Julian looked at him finally, his eyes searching, seeking truth. "Do you think you'd notice if you lost your mind?"

"Is it the Dominion?" Sisko asked. Maybe it was Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Maybe he should have sent Dax down here.

But there was no visible reaction. "What about them?" Bashir asked.

Sisko had reached his side now. He pointed down at the PADD in Bashir's hand. "The PADD. Did it make you remember something? Something you didn't want to remember?"

Bashir's eyebrows knit in confusion and then he looked at the PADD again. "The PADD," Bashir repeated, but the phrase held no answer for Sisko. "Is that what it says? I can't read it."

Sisko shook his head. "What do you mean you can't read it?"

"I mean I can't," Bashir told him. "I look at the letters, but I can't make them into words. I can't read."

Sisko sat down, still not understanding how a man could simply stop being able to read. Bashir was still holding the PADD up and Sisko could read it from where he sat. Bashir looked over at him, letting the hand that was holding the PADD fall. "You'll need another doctor."

Sisko didn't want to give up that easily. The situation still didn't make sense. "I already have a doctor. I have you."

Bashir shook his head. "I can't. I can't read; I can't be a doctor."

Sisko still wouldn't accept it. "You said yourself you were tired. Maybe overstressed." He took the PADD from Bashir and set it aside. "Maybe you should talk to Ezri, take a few days off. Everything will be fine, you'll see." He didn't completely believe it himself.

"It's not going away," Bashir told him. "I thought it would, but it hasn't. It's only getting worse. I was going to resign anyway."

That hit hard. But Sisko ignored it to get at the sentence before. "How has it gotten worse?" Sisko asked, hoping that now he'd get a more detailed explanation for his doctor's behavior.

Bashir's head dropped and his voice filled with emotion. Sorrow, anguish. "I don't know," he said. "I thought it would go away, that it would get better. I ran tests, as many as I could think of. But there's nothing wrong with me. The tests all came back normal. I didn't tell anyone. I should have. No one was sick. Someone could have died."

It was too much, too fast. Sisko couldn't follow Bashir's confession. "Slow down. Tell me what's wrong. Why did you run tests?"

Bashir shook his head. "I don't know when it started," he said. "but no one was sick. There wasn't anything to do to find out. But then Swenson came in." His head lifted, but he stared straight ahead. "Tonsilitis. I had to look it up. I actually had to look it up."

Sisko was starting to understand. Bashir put himself under a lot of pressure. He was a brilliant doctor, but he expected perfection from himself. "So you had to look something up. That's not that bad, Julian. I'm sure everyone does sometime."

"I was so afraid," Bashir continued as if he hadn't heard, "that I'd have to operate. I couldn't think how. So I ran some tests. But I couldn't find anything wrong. I thought, I'm just tired. But it got worse. I almost got lost. Just going back to my quarters. All the corridors look the same. I had to watch the numbers on the doors. Now this." He looked Sisko in the eyes. "I'm losing my mind. Not my sanity, but my mind."

Sisko leaned his head back against the wall, too. It made sense, once he'd worked through everything Bashir had said. It made sense, and it didn't. Why would a person, a brilliant person like Bashir, suddenly have problems like this? He couldn't explain it anymore than Bashir could. "We'll run more tests," he said. It was the only thing he could think to do. "I'll call Starfleet and get another doctor out here. For now, just go back to your quarters and try and get some rest." Then he remembered what Bashir had said about getting lost. "I'll walk you there. Try not to worry. We'll find what's wrong, and we'll find a way to help you."

He stood and held out a hand to help the doctor up. Bashir didn't say another word as they walked to the Habitat Ring. And he only nodded when Sisko dropped him off at his quarters. As the doors closed, Sisko had a realization. Bashir had broken. Five weeks in the Dominion internment camp hadn't broken him. Being abducted by the Federation-- thanks to Section 31--hadn't managed to take away all of his spirit. But this, whatever it was, had done just that.


O'Brien tried to pay attention to the briefing, but it seemed to be coming to an end anyway. Everyone left concurred that it looked as if the Cardassians were trying to create a cloaking device using Gidari technology of some sort. It was an experiment, which would explain the relatively small crew compliment as reported by Garak. It didn't entirely solve the puzzle created by the destruction of the Enirak, because no one knew if the Gidari had cloaking technology or not. They'd never demonstrated it, and no one had ever caught them with it. And that might have been the Cardassians' biggest mistake here. The Gidari, and all their technology, were unknowns. You don't risk your entire crew and ship on something as unknown as the Gidari. The destruction of the Enirak-- and of the Vesmir--was a good proof of that.

Beyond all that, there was little for the crew of Deep Space Nine to do about it. They could pass the information along to Starfleet Intelligence and keep their eyes out for more ships like the Enirak. That was about it. Hopefully, O'Brien thought with a good bit of cynicism, they'll keep trying the Gidari stuff. Might make the war shorter.

That settled in his mind, he was back to wondering about Julian. Julian hadn't quite seemed himself these last weeks, but that was nothing that couldn't be explained away as stress or war-weariness of some sort. But his reaction to the PADD was off the scale. He was relieved then, when the door to the wardroom opened.

His heart sank a bit when the captain entered alone. Bashir wasn't with him, and the look on his face was a grim one. "Well?" the captain asked when everyone looked expectantly to him. "What did you come up with?"

Worf answered, reporting for everyone. "A cloak. They were working on a cloaking device, most likely something they were trying to glean from Gidari technology."

Sisko nodded, sitting down at the head of the table. He had the PADD with him and tossed it onto the table. "And we can't really do anything about it except keep alert." Heads nodded around the table. "Commander Worf, please apprise Starfleet Command of the situation." He took a deep breath. O'Brien was holding his, waiting for word about Julian. "Colonel, please contact Starfleet Medical. We'll need a new doctor."

"What?!" O'Brien practically jumped out of his chair. "Why do we need a new doctor?"

"Settle down, Chief," Sisko told him, looking him straight in the eye. He kept his voice calm. "Julian requested it. I'm hoping it's only temporary." He turned his attention back to Kira. "Doctor Girani can take over until Starfleet sends someone."

O'Brien had sat down again, telling himself over and over that Bashir was not being railroaded. Sisko wouldn't do that. "What's wrong with him?"

Sisko shook his head and steepled his fingers together while his elbows rested on the table. "I don't know. He couldn't read the PADD. That's what upset him. All of a sudden, he can't read."

"That doesn't make any sense," Ezri remarked, shaking her head as well.

"I'm inclined to agree, Old Man," Sisko told her. "But it's happened just the same. I'd like to find out why, which is why I want a good neurologist. A very good neurologist." He sighed heavily. He turned to Kira again. "He said he ran some tests but couldn't find anything wrong. Find the results and make sure the neurologist gets them when he or she arrives."

Kira nodded.

"Chief," Sisko turned to O'Brien. He sighed, and O'Brien knew he was leaving Bashir behind. Duty calls. "Make sure the Defiant is staffed and ready for departure by 2000 hours. We still have a convoy to run. Dismissed."