Bashir decided to temporarily bring Hogan out of his medically induced coma to conduct some tests. The toxins had been cleared from the Colonel's body, his fever had diminished and he looked better. Bashir deliberately placed a light so that its brightness would face the Colonel, forcing him to keep his eyes mostly shut, and then brought him around.
"Colonel? Come on, wake up."
Hogan thought he heard a voice, but he couldn't be sure. It was someone telling him to wake up. He didn't remember falling asleep. He drifted off again.
"Let's try again. Colonel? It's Dr. Bashir. Wake up."
Hogan opened his eyes slowly, but quickly shut them again as the brightness hit. He tried to shield them with his arm, but for some reason, he could not move. That scared him a bit and his heart rate began to rise. What? Who is Bashir? Tunnels. He had been in the tunnels. The memory of pain and fever hit him. Where am I? He wasn't in the tunnels. He could feel it. The air and the smell weren't right.
"Do you know who you are? Can you tell me?" Bashir was checking for signs of brain damage.
"Hogan, Robert E. Colonel. 0876707." His voice began to slur.
Bashir smiled. "Good, that's fine. You're doing great. Relax."
Bashir, that Doctor from intelligence or somewhere else. Wilson? "Where's Wilson?" Hogan managed his first full sentence.
"He's not here right now, Colonel."
"We're not in the tunnels. Where am I?"
"We took you and Olsen somewhere for better treatment," Bashir answered.
Hogan recalled the Sergeant's condition. "I need to see him. He's not…"
Bashir tried to reassure the Colonel. "Don't worry, Sir. Olsen is doing better. We can't move you right now."
Hogan digested that bit of information. "I thought I had a flesh wound. Guess I was wrong."
"Yes, I'm afraid you were wrong," Bashir said. "The bullet hit your liver, but we'll be able to fix the damage."
Hogan attempted to assess how he was feeling. A little pain, but not unbearable. Fatigued. Unbelievably fatigued, and hooked up to tubes. That he could sense. And there was a very slight rumble, almost indiscernible. "We're on a ship."
Bashir was amazed at Hogan's perception. How did he know? "Yes, Sir, we're on a ship."
He and Olsen were so bad that they decided somehow to evacuate them to a hospital ship. Somewhere in the Channel, Hogan supposed. His men could not figure out a plausible reason to take the two of them to a German hospital. He was done. Hogan knew the operation would have to continue now without him or be shut down.
Bashir checked Hogan's heart rate. The man was beginning to get distressed and he decided to end the conversation. "Can you open your eyes for me? I know it's bright." The doctor checked his pupils. "Good." Bashir patted Hogan's shoulder and put him back to sleep. Pleased with his patient's progress, he reported back to Major Kira that Hogan was improving. "You know he was able to sense he was on a ship."
"Really?" Kira was surprised.
"Well, at least I didn't have to lie again. I've been keeping track of how many I've told. I'm in double digits now. I just didn't mention what type of ship it was." Bashir laughed.
A signal came in from the surface. It was Dax checking in and she explained that the Kommandant of the camp assumed Olsen had escaped and that Hogan went after him. "Apparently, he is beside himself. You see, he has a perfect no-escape record and the boys want to keep it that way."
Bashir thought for a moment about his options. "I can release Olsen soon, but he'll still need care. Hogan is another story."
"I know." Jadzia assumed it would be easier for the two of them to return at the same time and said so.
"Yes." Bashir agreed. "Pity I have to keep the sergeant sedated; though, for another day, at least. What would the prisoners prefer? Did you ask them?"
"No. I was hidden first in the Colonel's office and then in the tunnel all morning. I haven't seen Sisko or O'Brien yet."
"I'll need to talk with them and the medic."
"All right, Julian. I'll see what I can do. Dax out."
***********
Sisko and O'Brien had spent a restless night in Barracks 12. Wilson still appeared to be in a bit of shock from the strange experiences and he was still angry at his treatment. He avoided the two imposters like the plague. O'Brien was a bit amused at Sisko's demotion, but the seriousness of the situation tempered his mirth and he kept his feelings to himself.
The next morning, Sisko, O'Brien and Wilson were ordered to report to Barracks two for a briefing and an update. "Klink is beginning to panic," Kinch reported. "I think he assumed the Colonel and Olsen would somehow mysteriously appear at the gates this morning." He shook his head. "Dax spoke with the doctor this morning." Kinch gave the Trill the floor.
"Dr. Bashir reports they are both doing better, but he believes Colonel Hogan won't be ready to be released for at least another day and he is wondering if the two should come back together. Sergeant Wilson, he wants to speak with you about that."
Wilson grunted.
"Seems it would make more sense that way, considering what we told Klink."
"Carter's right." Newkirk looked at the medic. "Joe?"
"I suppose." Wilson stood up. "I'll speak to him now. If he's available." He looked at Dax.
"Why don't we go someplace privately and I'll get him for you."
"Wilson is not happy. I'd stay out of his way," Sisko warned the men.
"Can't blame him, really." O'Brien watched the medic and Dax leave. "Now, what do you have in store for us this morning?"
Kinch smiled. "Potatoes, peeling. Someone take them to the mess hall."
"You're joking."
"Captain Sisko. I don't joke. At least not with you people."
After they left, under protest, Kinch looked at his buddies. "That felt good."
"Don't blame you." Newkirk laughed.
"I would have given them the laundry," Carter said. Then the four looked at each other.
"I'm still worried," LeBeau said. "If the Colonel and Olsen were so hurt they needed to be moved, we should have made up a story and taken them to a hospital in town. At least we'd know where they were."
Wilson spent a long time going over Olsen and Hogan's injuries with Bashir. The doctor left some things out, but tried to be as detailed as he possibly could without giving away pertinent information. He hated lying again, but since he had no choice, he put his best effort into it. The injuries Olsen had suffered would have required weeks of recovery in the 1940's if he had survived. Now he expected the sergeant would be on his feet in a few days. But he would need care when returned to the camp. As for Hogan, once the cell growth was completed and he could repair the liver, he would have to see. If the graft took, and he was sure it would, Hogan, as well, would be on his feet in a few days.
"I still don't know what Kinch has in mind," Wilson explained to Bashir that they needed a reasonable explanation to give to Klink as to why the two escapees were injured. "But I'll make sure they are placed in the infirmary. We're still expecting a penicillin drop. Klink will probably be notifying the Gestapo by the end of the day, you know."
"They won't find us," Bashir reassured him. "The Colonel woke up a bit this morning, by the way."
"Really?" Wilson perked up.
"Yes. He was able to convey his name, rank and serial number and he was asking about Olsen and where you were."
Wilson was relieved. "That's great. Thanks." They finished the call and Wilson hurried over to tell the men the news.
*********
"You should be used to this, Sir." O'Brien and Sisko were glumly peeling potatoes in the mess hall under the watchful eye of a German guard. Sisko glared at the chief and went back to his stack.
"This will take us all day at this rate." O'Brien wouldn't shut up. He was trying to figure out a way to speed up the process, but frankly, he couldn't.
"How are you two making out?" LeBeau asked cheerfully. He had decided to come over and check out their progress. "Tsk. Tsk. Put a little more action into it. Watch. There you go. Voila."
Sisko wiped the sweat off his brow. "I hear you're a topnotch chef."
"So they say. I hear you know your way around a kitchen, as well, monsieur."
"My father owns a restaurant in New Orleans."
"So I heard." LeBeau picked up another peeler and began to tackle a stack of potatoes.
Sisko winked at O'Brien. "So, Monsieur LeBeau. Tell me about your plans for after the war."
O'Brien, who finally finished his stack of potatoes and also had a hell of a hand cramp, left Sisko and LeBeau and their friendly argument about the proper way to debone a chicken, and walked over to Barracks two to check on Dax. He found that Dax had sneaked back into the common room.
"Aren't you afraid you'll get caught in here?" He looked over her shoulder. She was fiddling with a broken tricorder.
"Nope." Putting the broken equipment down, she pushed some hair out of her face, stood up and stretched. "No one seems to mind. Besides, they're watching the door."
"That's right." O'Brien realized that whenever he was in this particular barracks, someone, usually a prisoner that was not part of the main team, always had sentry duty. He had become so used to it, that he had begun to overlook it.
"They leave nothing to chance." Dax announced. "Wilson's down below with Kinch and a few of the others. Apparently Julian told him the Colonel was making good progress. Maybe they can come back tomorrow or the next day."
"Won't be too soon." O'Brien said. "But then what?"
"I don't know." Jadzia grabbed the chief by the arm and moved to a corner. "There's the medical issues, but listen. We need to get out of here. They need to explain where you and Bashir or Sisko went and what happened to Hogan and Olsen."
"Well, we can get out of here," O'Brien whispered. "They can't stop us, Jadzia, really, when you think about it."
"I know, but we have to be careful. It's got to be done the right way or…"
"They'll let us go. Out through the tunnels and then we'll use the transporter."
"And then?"
"We have to figure out how to get home, of course."
"A little minor detail." Dax smiled and went back to work.
"Sergeant, if you have any idea at all where they are, you need to tell me," Klink pleaded. "My report has to go out by the end of the week and if they're not recaptured, it will be on it and well…" Klink was now terrified of Burkhalter's response. He always figured it was his perfect record that was keeping him from a trip out east, and for some reason, he still couldn't fathom, Colonel Hogan was always willing to assist in capturing the enlisted men whenever they got it in their heads to take a hike. "I don't want them hurt," was as usual response. Klink actually thought Hogan was magnanimous and showed some common sense. After all, escapes were extremely risky and a young Allied soldier could easily get shot or worse, as they tried to make their way out of the country. In fact, the Kommandant really could not understand why anyone would try. But they did. He sighed and looked at the sergeant. "Well?"
"Olsen, he got a letter, Sir. Someone heard him mentioning it late yesterday afternoon. Something about his mother. The only thing I can guess is maybe she was sick. He was worried and took off. He's never done anything like this before." Kinch said.
Klink had Olsen's records on his desk and had checked them over. Nothing out of the ordinary stood out.
"And we think maybe the Colonel knew and took off after him."
Klink's men had already searched the usual locations and had found nothing. "I will have to call the local Gestapo Office and inform them. Sergeant, I hope for your Colonel 's sake and the sake of your sergeant, my guards find them before they do."
"Yes, sir."
Klink was not looking forward to his next move. Calling Hochstetter. If there was any one he hated dealing with more than Burkhalter, it was that evil Gestapo major, who for some ridiculous reason, had in his mind that Hogan was responsible for every act of sabotage in the area and probably the rest of occupied Europe as well. Klink dismissed Kinch and picked up the phone.
