Chapter 10: Doctor Bashir, I Presume

"Is she alright Julian?" Ben asked, standing next to the wall as the doctor sat, a tired; worn out look turning his kind face into a ghastly mask of death.

"I had to give her a sedative to stop her from committing suicide," he groaned, leaning back against the chair, letting his head lean against the back, "But, she's doing better. Good heavens, Captain. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose a child."

"I can't either," he shook his head, "A terrible thing for anyone to have to go through."

"It just doesn't make sense," the doctor said.

"What?" Ben asked, not really looking over at the doctor.

"Why would the assassin to a Cardassian diplomat then turn; kill the doctor and try to kill the patients?" Julian asked.

"I don't know," Ben shrugged, "I really don't know. Has the autopsy revealed anything into Dummat's murder?"

"I haven't had the time," he apologized, "I had a family to try to save."

"Gotcha."

"Anything else I can do before I leave?" the nurse asked, looking up from the microscope towards Bashir.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "You can leave now."

"Good night then," she said, putting down her stuff and walking towards the doors. She slowed to a stop as the door opened and turning to him said, "You did your best doctor."

"But it wasn't enough," he shook his head.

The nurse dropped her head slightly and left, the doors sliding closed behind her.

"Now time for the autopsy," he murmured.

"No," he sighed, feeling a wave of dizziness hitting him, "I'll do it later. I need to sleep."

He slowly walked towards the chair, and sat down. Despite having released Mrs. Riker to her ship, he would never climb up into a bio-bed. Nor would he go take the long journey back to his own quarters. He would sleep here; in his private domain.

His eyelids grew heavy, and soon, he was fast asleep.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Bashir awoke with a start. In his dream, he had envisioned assassins crawling into the air ducts above his room. Assassins with knives tipped in poison. But, it had only been a dream. No one could fit into those air ducts.

He closed his eyes, and was about to fall back asleep when he heard a scuffing. Above him? Impossible. There was a thud and he leapt up. He ran to the counter and grabbed a hypospray. Wielding it like a phaser, he crept towards the vents. No one was going to take him unawares in his own sickbay.

Then, the grates begin to budge and move off its plating. It was like an old Earth horror film he had seen as a child. Who knew what would fall out of there.

Suddenly, a boot stuck itself out of the hole. Then two stuck out. With a rush and a thump, came falling a thick body of grey skin and black hair. Bashir grabbed him by the shoulder, holding the hypospray like a knife. He turned him over and to his surprise, the man said in a weak voice.

"My dear doctor, there is hope for you yet."

Bashir let him drop to the ground in shock and demanded, "What are you doing here Garak? And what's happened to you?"

"No time for bantering doctor," Garak replied, struggling to stand, "As for your questions, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," Bashir said, grabbing the heavy man and helping his stand.

"I tried to make a move on a Bajoran prostitute and so she decided to try to kill me," Garak grimaced as Bashir's hands moved over burned skin and broken ribs, "She threw me in a chemical fire."

"Another lie?" Bashir retorted, sitting him down in his chair.

"My dear doctor," Garak's eyes widened in shocked indignation, "What do you mean by that?"

"I know your taste in women," Bashir waved a hand, "And Bajorans don't make the cut. And, you would have killed her with little remorse if she had tried such a thing."

"Then what do you believe I am doing here?" he asked, acting intrigued by the Doctor's logic.

"Three Cardassians are dead in my sickbay," Bashir said, holding up a finger for each poin the made, "A baby is dead. The killer can't be found. And you just happen to show up. And, you're a member of the Obsidian Order."

Garak's eyebrows raised. "My good doctor. It seems I taught you all too well. And," he said, standing with a effort, "I must see the body of Dummat."

"I was going to do an autopsy," Bashir said, throwing his arm around Garak's shoulder, helping him stand.

""If what I suspect is true," Garak muttered, "You will have more then an autopsy on your hands."

"What?" Bashir said, but Garak shook his head.

"Just get me to the body."

Bashir led him to the stasis chamber and pushed a button. The doors retracted and out slid the preserved corpse of Dummat. His chest, even though cleaned, still looked horrible with it's burned mark. The shot that had killed him had entered there.

Garak grabbed the side of the bed and using his fingers began to prod at the lips. Then, he tilted the head ever so slightly back and forced the lips open and looked inside. He then raised the blanket and felt the region of the chest, moving the practiced hands in various places. Then, after maybe a minute or two, he looked up at the doctor and gave a maniacal smile.

"This is no Cardassian," he smiled like a beast having found it's prey.

"What?" Bashir gasped.

"I wasn't sent by the Order or even the High Command," Garak said, "I had sources though that said that the Dummat we were sending to talk to the Federation wasn't the real thing. I didn't believe it; until my source pointed out that, first off, his walk wasn't exactly Cardassian. Close, but off. I went to stop him, but, there were others that wanted to kill him."

"Why?" Bashir asked, "Why kill Dummat?"

"I guess you haven't learned as much as I once thought," Garak chided, "Think about it Doctor. Isn't the timing of the assassination perfectly coincidental? And that the killers just happened to mysteriously vanish, unable to be found by the crew?"

"They are wanting Cardassia to keep out of the Federation," Bashir gasped., "Divide us and destroy the peace."

"And defame Riker," Garak prodded on, "Isn't it amazing that one of Starfleets' most iconic captains is out of the way? There will be war."

"But who did you get all this from?" Bashir asked, "It couldn't have been just anybody. Who gave it to you? And who exactly were the killers?"

"I will let my source speak for itself," Garak said, and tapped a red band at his elbow.

Bashir didn't have time to ask what he was doing before the watch began to melt of his hand and began to transform. The glob twisted and turned and vibrated as it took shape. And, before he knew it, the rough likeness of a human body was standing before him.

"Hello Doctor," Odo smiled, "Nice to see you again."