Centuries had passed since the introduction of faster than light travel, giving many worlds the means to journey the vast distances from one star to the next in a fraction of the time it might otherwise have taken. But even in this age of high technology, there was little to suggest that any of life's most basic necessities had ever really changed. As much as any crew in the galaxy, those who served on board the USS Defiant were every bit as biologically tuned to the steady, predictable rhythm of a planet-bound existence.
Even the very earliest space-faring pioneers had been quick to discover that a scheduled "night time" was essential for the comfort of starship operations everywhere. Every crew member, even those rostered to work through the later shifts, seemed to understand - and occasionally came to appreciate - this most basic of considerations.
That in itself was cause enough to dim all extraneous lights to less than half their usual intensity. But there were times - especially in the depths of night - when the Defiant was riddled with places so dark that diurnal humanoids were hesitant to step. Even those large-eyed, thickly furred creatures scampering around the forest canopies from dusk until dawn would have had to strain to see beyond a few short metres.
Jadzia Dax could not have found a reason for the way she was feeling that night, even if there had been anyone around to demand one of her. But the passage of time had left her still more restless and agitated, and a request to the ship's onboard chronometer confirmed for her that an apparent eternity had in reality been little more than an hour and a half.
Her cabin on the Defiant was claustrophobically silent, the artificial air heavy and stifling. There was little to do but to lie awake in semi-darkness, staring at the underside of the bunk above her. Every breath was stale in her lungs. She was irritable, goosebumps rising all over her skin - and, if she was honest, more than a little worried about her friends.
Still trapped by the silence, chasing that peace which continued to elude her, Dax twisted from the mattress and rose just as quickly to her feet. A long groan from the depths of her chest was dimmed to no more than a coarse half whisper, as though from concern that somebody might be woken by the sound. Jadzia paused, grateful that it had not drawn anyone from their attempt at sleep - no-one, that was, save for herself.
She staggered across the floor on unsteady legs, grimaced quietly, and slipped away through the swiftly sliding door.
None of Dax's hosts had ever been cursed with particularly poor eyesight, even as their hair turned grey with the years, and finally faded to white - and their skin wore away and creased like overheated paper. Jadzia's eyes were even sharper than many of her predecessors'. But even she moved cautiously through the more obscure corridors, pausing to accustom herself to the darkness and raising her right hand to brush against the nearest wall.
She followed it carefully, keeping close to the passage's edge. At least the tactile contact lent her steps a surer direction. But she was still a little slower than she felt she ought to have been, hesitant and cautious as she made her way in silence towards the Defiant's brig.
The officer on guard did not object as she passed him by and nodded briefly in his direction. She had little idea of what impulse had led her to this part of the ship. But for now, it was an important place for her to be. She paused at the entrance, and with a slow outward breath, steeled herself to approach the security forcefield.
"Have you come to let me go?" A precisely steady voice drifted closer from the darkness of the holding cell. Light from an unidentified source flashed briefly across Julian's eyes, finally allowing Jadzia to pinpoint the doctor's location.
He was crouched atop a hard, narrow bench at the farthest corner of the cubicle. A shadow even against the black, Julian had crossed both legs in front of him and brought them up to press against his chest. And the lighter form of the bench was also coming into view as the Trill's eyes found the time they needed to adjust. There was an identical piece of furniture in every cell, each with a thin, uncomfortable mattress that was intended to double as a serviceable bed. Even without the constant, still unidentified distraction pulling sharply on the mind of her companion, Dax could not help but doubt that anyone would be able to sleep on something so painful.
Bashir still watched her, half glaring in the dim, reflected light, his gaze as coldly intense as that of a panther in a cage. Jadzia had known for many years that the doctor's night vision was easily acute enough to match her own. And she realised with equal certainty that he wasn't about to allow her from his sight.
Sighing with a measure of subdued regret, she shook her head. She did not doubt that he must have noticed her quietly melancholy smile. "Sorry, Julian. Not this time."
"Then go away."
Pain twisted reflexively at the core of Dax's gut - sharp and tearing, acute enough to make her wince. But even now, from those same depths came a cold, pure certainty. This may not have been her prison that night. She may not have been the one physically trapped between those hard, confining walls. But Dax was now as sure as she'd ever been, of anything. At that moment, there was no possible way for her to leave the cells behind.
So she stayed, and fretted in silence, just as she'd done all through the long and sleepless night. The same uneasy feeling still crept beneath her skin, causing it to itch uncomfortably even as she fought against the urge to tug at the collar of her uniform jersey.
How could you? the darkened walls demanded of her. How could you have made your friends suffer like this? And what will you do, Jadzia? What will you do, if all your good intentions turn bad?
She'd taken such meticulous care to explain her apparent solution. It had been so essential to get everything right, after all, to leave no possible room for misinterpretation. Benjamin, and everyone else around him, had been so willing to pursue that course on her recommendation. There had been initial resistance, certainly. But the bottom line was, they trusted her.
Still, there was no way to push away her most tenacious doubts - nor to stop the simmering anxiety deep within her belly. Whatever had caused this, it was already getting so much worse.
As she came a little closer, Dax's sharp eyes were still detecting movement. She noted with some alarm that her friend inside had begun to shake like a leaf in the wind. He tensed at her approach, drawing his legs up even tighter.
"Julian…" she began, but with little idea of what she would have said.
It would be so simple, she thought, a sudden blunt ache rising in her throat. So quick, and then he would be cured. But not this, Jadzia. This is just cruel.
But… if I do… then what about the Chief?
Miles O'Brien's was not the face she could see before her eyes. He was not the one glaring her way, tight-muscled and trembling with barely containable agitation. They both need your help, Jadzia reminded herself. With luck, and patience, she would be in a far better position to be reunited with both of her friends.
She offered Bashir her best approximation of a reassuring smile. "Good night, Julian."
But she did not return to her quarters that night. Instead she stopped after barely two metres. Making certain that she was out of the doctor's sight, she settled into a tight crouch, crossed her legs, and remained in place with her back against the wall. She supposed that if the captain should catch her here - or Odo, or Kira - they would most likely have something to say about her presence this near to the holding cells.
Even so, until the start of her early morning shift, she would stay close by. Already she was struck by the unshakable notion that in this very room, many more times than her quarters on the Defiant - this was the place where she truly belonged.