The woman sat alone at a table, nursing a Plomeek tea, her eyes distant.
The Ferengi at the bar was watching her suspiciously. "She seemed harmless," he was saying as he wiped a glass and set it on a tray with a sharp clink, "But smart."
"Smart?" asked the Changeling who sat across from him, making no move to disguise his prying.
"Rule of Acquisition number 82," Quark replied, "'A smart customer is not a good customer.' She claimed I was overcharging for the tea-"
"And weren't you?"
The barman glared. "That's none of your concern. She bartered for it, made me drop my price."
"'Made you?'" Odo raised an eyebrow.
"Can't have her spoiling my reputation." He raised his hands and doused his tone in a thick layer of faux-sweetness, "I offer an oasis, a kind ear to those passing through. If she were to tell the customers my prices are exorbitant, well, that would be bad for business."
Odo gave a harumph and looked around at the bustling bar. "Looks as if your business is doing fine." Two figures at a table on the balcony caught his eye. "And them?"
Quark followed his gaze and scoffed. "Bajoran traders. They're cheap, not half as gullible as they should be." He leaned forward conspiratorially, "Rumor is they were some of the group that cooperated with the Cardassians, which makes them not especially popular."
"They seem to be quite interested in the newcomer," the Chief of Security remarked.
The barman shrugged.
"Perhaps I'll introduce myself," The suspicion was clear in Odo's voice, but before he could stand, the two Bajorans pushed their way across the balcony to the top of the stairs.
Descending the winding steps, they silently flanked the woman. She gave no indication she'd noticed them, nor did she seem particularly bothered.
"You," one said, "Human."
The woman glanced up, took in the two, and returned her gaze to her tea. "Can I help you, ladies?"
"I believe I recognize you," the other spoke.
"Must have one of those faces," the woman said, not looking up.
"Who are you?"
"I'm afraid I've never ventured out this way. We can't have met before."
"You didn't answer my question," the first scowled.
The Human seemed to hide a sigh as she finally returned the Bajoran's gaze. "I'm a merchant, like yourselves. Just passing through." The two were silent. She smiled. "I arrived on a transport this afternoon, just sitting down for a drink."
"Where did you come from?"
She pushed herself back slightly in her chair, the smile never flickering. "You two are awfully inquisitive, you know? I make it a habit of not conversing with strangers," she pushed out a chair, "Introduce yourselves, maybe I'll buy you a drink-"
"We want nothing from you, thief," the second snapped.
The face of the woman in the middle fell. "Hey, now, ladies, let's not throw around-"
"I know where I've seen your face –on a wanted poster. You're a thief," one of the two set a heavy hand on the Human's shoulder, "You've no right to be on this Station."
The woman's voice was quiet, carefully controlled, "I have every right to be here. I'm afraid you're mistaken, I'm no criminal."
The Bajoran on her left prodded the bag that occupied one of the chairs. "What's this?"
She warily met the accusing gaze. "Clothes, books. Necessities."
"Books?"
The woman's head tilted. "You know, made with paper, full of stories? I'm sure you have them on Bajor-"
"Don't patronize me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," the Human laid her hands flat on the table, "My apologies. I like to be entertained when I travel, I carry my books wherever I go." The Bajoran made to open the bag, and she spoke quietly, "Don't."
The hand tightened on her shoulder.
"What have you to hide, Human?" The words were spat, and the woman replied with an easy smile.
"I'm sure you wouldn't want your underclothes on display either, you understand."
Odo appeared on the other side of the table. "Is there a problem here?"
"This thief is refusing a search of her belongings," one of the Bajorans snapped.
"And who gave you the authority to conduct searches?"
The two bristled. "This is a Bajoran station-"
"And I am Chief of Security." There was a brief and forceful pause. "Any searches will be conducted at my discretion."
The Bajorans made to snarl a reply, but the Changeling's expression made it clear he was in no mood. Without another word, they turned and stalked away.
"Gee, you're a friendly bunch here, aren't you?" the Human said, taking a sip of her tea with a twist of her lips.
"I didn't catch your name."
"I didn't give it."
She met his eyes evenly, the smile on her face not unkind. After a silence, she continued, "I'd happily consent to a search, if you deem it necessary. I mean no offense –as I said, it's a habit of mine to keep strangers at arm's length."
The Changeling took her meaning. "I am Odo, the Chief of Security."
She regarded him for a moment. "Name's Thompson."
"Welcome to DS9, Ms. Thompson."
Thompson gave a nod. She indicated the open chair. "Have a seat, Mr. Odo."
He sat. "What brings you to the Station, may I ask?"
She took another swig of the tea. "Heard about the wormhole. Thought I'd come take a look for myself."
The Chief of Security knew a half-truth when he heard one. "I see. And, may I ask, is there any truth to their accusations?"
She set her glass down, carefully. Folded her hands. "That I'm a thief?" He nodded. "No."
Another statement that wasn't quite a lie. He offered a quiet 'hm' in reply.
She snorted. "Mr. Odo, I may be a stranger here, but I'm no fool. Why would I travel to a Federation-controlled station with a label like 'thief' attached to my name? If there were any truth to it, that would be a death wish. Or, at the very least, a surefire path to prison."
"I see."
Thompson's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair shortly. I won't cause you any problems."
"I'll hold you to your word." Odo narrowed his eyes and stood. "Enjoy your stay here, Ms. Thompson."
She nodded, watching him stride away. Across the bar she caught sight of the two Bajorans glaring at her.
With any luck, she'd survive the night. Maybe find a transport through the wormhole the next day. That'd beat staying put on DS9 –there was nothing there for her. Maybe the gamma quadrant would yield some safe haven. Somewhere.
...
She lay on her back, one arm crooked behind her head. The other rest on her chest, fingers loosely curved around the small charm around her neck.
The guest quarters were larger than she'd imagined. Smaller than crew quarters, of course, but compared to the cramped cargo bays and shaded corners she'd had to jam herself into in the past, the very presence of a bed and a private toilet was a luxury she wasn't quite used to.
She'd only half-expected the arrival of someone at her door. Staring for a moment at the ceiling, Thompson sighed. The chime sounded again, too insistent to ignore.
Rolling to her feet, she paused for just a moment before opening the door.
"Ladies," she greeted the two Bajorans, "What can I do for you?"
"Get off this station, thief," one hissed, fists clenched.
"Again with the thief thing–look, it was a long time ago," Thompson replied, lowering her voice, "I don't mean you or anyone here any trouble, I'm just-"
"I'm sure you're aware of the Federation's stance on smuggling," the other said, a bitter edge to her voice.
Thompson forced a smile. "Did Maddog put you up to this?"
"We'll throw you out an airlock ourselves-" One grabbed her arm, and Thompson gave a reluctant frown.
So much for the promise not to cause trouble.
Driving the heel of her hand into the Bajoran's ridged nose, Thompson slipped out of their grip and ducked around their partner's swinging arms. Feet scrabbling for purchase on the smooth floors, she slid against the wall and took off down the long, curved corridor. The now broken-nosed Bajoran recovered quickly, quicker than she'd imagined, and soon the two were right behind her.
Should have checked the floor plans, why didn't you check the damn floor plans, Thompson?
Running blind. That brought up memories, ones she'd rather hide at the bottom of a bottle of Romulan ale.
Thompson rounded a corner, not quick enough, and her elbow was caught by a flailing hand. Nearly pulled off-balance, she felt a boot hit the back of her knee, forcing her down. She rolled, loosening the woman's grip, and rose to her feet, stumbling.
There was the bustle of a crowd up ahead, somehow she'd snaked her way around the ring to the wide, open space she'd sat in earlier. The Promenade, they'd called it.
She was nearly in the light, nearly there, when someone caught her shirt, nails scraping painfully across her skin.
A fist found her ear, and the world spun.
"Running is always the sign of innocence," a voice hissed in her ear, and her head was pulled back, fingers roughly grasping at the short locks of her hair. She gave a pained grunt, unable to force something pacifying in reply.
A hand found her throat, applying enough pressure to make her eyes water, though thankfully not enough to choke off her breath.
The bloody-faced woman stepped into view, fist clenched. Thompson found her voice, rasped out, "Wait-"
Her words were interrupted by the blow, which caused a jolt of pain down her cheek. She felt blood run down her lips, and gasped out a swear.
What's going on here?" a voice called. The Bajoran stepped aside, lowering her fist, and, through the haze, Thompson saw the stern-faced Chief of Security appear.
"This Human attempted to rob us," the other started, hand not moving from its grip on Thompson's scalp. "We were merely defending ourselves."
"Really," Odo didn't sound convinced.
Thompson's legs, curved in an awkward half-crouch, began to loudly protest. She tried to shift her weight, but the hand on her neck didn't allow her much movement.
"Let her up," he commanded.
At his glare, the two released her and stepped back. She staggered to her feet with a muttered, "Thanks," rubbing her throat.
"To the Security office, all of you," Odo snapped, crossing his arms. The Bajorans sneered, and he added, "Now."
...
"Are these really necessary?" Thompson asked of the handcuffs, attempting to wipe her chin on her sleeve without success.
"Until someone here is honest with me, yes, they are," Odo replied, arms still crossed. It seemed his default position. "Now, tell me what happened."
"She attacked us," one of the Bajorans, who'd identified herself as Tipo, said.
"She's a criminal," the other, Jartet, added, "There's no reason for us to be in these restraints, it is she who-"
"Again, I'm not a criminal," Thompson spoke up, "And I'm offended that you suggest-"
"Your name didn't appear on the roster of any vessel that has arrived in the past day," Odo said, leaning forward over the desk, "Nor, in fact, in the past week. There is no record of you arriving here and yet, here you are."
"A stowaway and a thief!" Jartet snapped.
Thompson gave a casual shrug. "So I neglected to pay boarding fees, I apologize. I'd be happy to pay them now-"
"I'm afraid we'll require a little more than that."
A man in a blue-shouldered uniform ducked into the office. "I heard there was a fight, was anyone injured?"
Odo waved a hand at the three shackled in front of him, two of whom had blood dripping freely down their face. The man made quick work of the Bajoran's nose, using some whirring gadget Thompson didn't recognize.
When he stepped toward her she politely ducked her head. "Thanks, but I don't need any Federation help."
The doctor frowned. "I'm not here to recruit you, I'm merely here to stop you from bleeding all over Odo's floor."
Thompson fought to keep the suspicion off her face and grudgingly allowed the whirring device to pass over her cheek.
"Let's hear your side, shall we?" Odo asked, pointedly.
She paused. "My name is Mae Thompson. Sure, I've been called a thief-"
"Ha!"
"Have been," Thompson emphasized, with a sideways glance at the Bajoran who'd laughed, "Got in with the wrong crowd. But those charges were dropped. Now I operate alone."
"And what, may I ask, is your occupation?"
"I'm a merchant of sorts."
"A smuggler."
She smiled. "Smuggler is a strong word. I prefer trader."
"Release us," ordered Jartet, "she's admitted to her crimes, we are not at fault-"
"You committed assault," Odo said, "I intend to hand you over to your government and allow them to do with you as they wish. I have no proof that Ms. Thompson is, in fact, engaged in smuggling."
"Thank you," Thompson said, and started to twist around to allow her hands to be freed.
"However," the Chief of Security continued, "I do intend to hold you until I can determine just how much you're not telling me."
"Wha-"
"If I remember correctly, you consented to a search of your belongings?"
Despite herself, she smiled. Walked right into that one. "Of course, I have nothing to hide." Nothing you'll find, at least.
He dipped his head, and ushered her into one of the cells. The two Bajorans were quickly led into two others, voicing their outrage.
Odo seemed to realize the doctor was still standing in the doorway. "I believe that's all we need from you, Doctor Bashir, thank you."
"Oh, sure," he grinned, "quite exciting, isn't it? A fight leads you to a smuggler-"
"Alleged smuggler," Thompson called sweetly, sitting rigidly on the edge of the cell's hard bed.
"Yes, Doctor, it's all very exhilarating," The sarcasm was clear in his voice, and the doctor's face fell slightly.
"Oh, well, if that's all," he nodded and turned, almost reluctantly, to go.
Odo followed, glaring at the three occupants of the Security office's cells. "Behave yourselves."
Thompson heaved a sigh at his retreating back and swung her legs onto the bed, attempting to contort herself into a comfortable position and failing.
"You think she's lying?"
"I'm sure of it," the Chief of Security agreed, "There is something she's not sharing."
"What was her name again –Thompson?"
Odo nodded. "Mae Thompson. She claims she's never before visited this quadrant. I can find no record of her."
Sisko frowned. "The name doesn't sound familiar. So no affiliation with the Federation?"
"No, in fact she seemed quite hostile toward the idea."
"Perhaps it's a false name," Dax called, glancing up.
"I considered it," Odo concurred, "but further inquiry into other suspected smugglers turned up anything matching her description."
"What are you saying?" Major Kira asked, "That, officially, she doesn't exist?"
She was joking, and seemed surprised when Odo returned her smile with a grave look. "The most dangerous criminals, I find, are often the ones about which we know very little."
"Does she pose a threat to the Station?" Sisko asked.
"It's possible," Odo replied.
"Can you prove it?"
The Changeling straightened. "A search of her quarters may very well turn up evidence of her intentions here."
Sisko nodded. "Do it. And Odo, you know that if we have no proof, we can't hold her."
"I'm well aware, Commander."
...
"You may have earned the shape-shifter's mercy, Human, but I assure you there will be none from Bajor."
"Smugglers are harshly punished, especially those who steal from us."
"You won't make it out of this quadrant alive."
For all the two Bajorans knew, their words fell on deaf ears.
Thompson kept her breath even, quiet. Her arms were full of painful pin pricks, still bound as they were behind her back. She lay on her side, knees drawn up to her stomach. Searching for some kind of comfort in the cold, hard surface of the bed.
She felt the orb digging into her chest, the ragged brown cord pulled tight around her throat. A reminder.
The door opened, and she didn't move, assuming it was the Chief of Security, come to retrieve the Bajorans.
"My, my," a voice said, "Thompson, what a pleasure it is to see you again."
She froze. That voice…a voice she'd been running from for so long, too long- "Wish I could say the same of you, Nigel."
Nigel tsked. "You never did learn when to keep your tongue to yourself."
"Release us," Jartet snapped, "before the Changeling returns."
The newcomer sauntered to the desk and thumbed the control to release the two force fields. Thompson stayed in place, staring at the wall, her ears straining to place the location of the others in the room.
The Bajorans stalked back and forth before the portal of her cell, all but snarling. Nigel chuckled.
"You've certainly found yourself in a tricky situation, haven't you, Thompson? I suppose I could help you, it would only be kind. Business partners must stick together-"
"I'm no partner of yours," Thompson finally stood, shoulders stiff.
He stepped forward, slowly, smirking. "We had a deal, Thompson. You were to bring me the cargo, simple as that. Imagine my surprise, then, when I arrive at our meeting spot to find that you not only failed to show," he leaned closer, "but you deemed it necessary to rat me out."
"You're mistaken, Nigel," she said, "I fulfilled my end. And you've turned the authorities wise to me a dozen times, thought I'd return the favor."
"You delivered the latinum, yes, but the gem," he hissed, "Thompson, we had a deal."
"So you've said."
"I don't like a traitor, Thompson." He pressed his lips together in a thin line, clasping his hands behind his back. "I'll give you a choice. Either I open the door and let these two lovely Bajorans rip you apart, or I leave you here and let the fools at the Federation do what they want with you."
Thompson lifted her chin. "We've known each other for a long time, Nigel, you should know you can't scare me."
"Pick your poison," he smiled.
"Your choices leave much to be desired." She stood by the edge of the bed, unmoved.
"There is, of course, a third option. The gem."
"I don't know-"
Nigel stopped her with a raised hand. "You're right, we've known each other for too long. I know when you're lying, Thompson."
She kept her face blank. "I don't have it."
He laughed and turned away. "Another lie, you break my heart."
She frowned at his back. "I'm not lying, I don't-"
"And you've chosen."
Before she could protest, he hit the switch again and the force field fizzled out. Thompson stood again, struggled against her cuffs. The Bajorans stepped forward.
"Wait-"
A fist caught her in the stomach and she bent at the waist with a wheeze.
Staring at the ground, she gasped out, "I want to apologize for any hard feelings this may cause-" Straightening, her head caught Tipo's chin and made her stagger back. Thompson threw her weight at her attacker, knocking her to the side.
"I mean no offense to the people of Bajor," she continued, as her leg was pulled out from under her and she sprawled awkwardly on her side. "This doesn't concern you." Wriggling her bound hands around her feet, she managed to raise them at the last moment to block a double-fisted blow that would have left her senseless. "You seem nice." She rolled to the side, rising to her knees, "Lovely architecture."
Jartet turned from where she stood at the door, "The Changeling is returning."
"Good," Thompson said, "I'm sure he'll love thi-"
Nigel's fist pounded into her chest, and the air flew from her lungs. His hands found her throat. Leaning close, he hissed in her ear, "You'll get me that gem, or I swear I'll hunt you to the ends of the universe."
She gasped, eyes glazing. Her fingers scratched desperate lines down his face, and he reared back with a snarl.
Thompson rolled to the side, wheezing. She rose into a weary crouch, old instincts kicking in.
Her voice croaked. "Go to hell, Nigel."
He reached forward and she avoided his grasp, barely keeping her balance.
"I'll send you there first," he hissed, and, in a moment was gone.
A groan escaped her lips, once she was sure he was gone. Rubbing a hand to her chest, which felt like it'd been hit by a ton of bricks, she fell into a momentary daze. The voice of the Security Chief startled her back to reality.
He stood with arms crossed as usual, appraising her. "Your friends seem to have left you behind."
Her blood was pumping too loudly in her ears to allow her guard to fall. She eyed him like a cornered animal, but managed to keep her voice light. "You'll find they're not my friends. I'm a little hard up for friends right about now."
He gave a quiet harumph and stepped forward. She flinched back in reply, eyes narrowing. The next harumph was louder. "I mean merely to free your hands."
Her gaze flicked to the key in his hand. "Why?"
"Would you rather they stay bound?"
She swallowed. Held out her wrists. When the shackles were removed, she rubbed the sore skin. "Thanks."
He nodded. "Are you ready to give me honest answers, or are you content to continue lying?"
Thompson stood. "I can't imagine there's anything I haven't already answered." Odo tilted his head and seemed to be waiting for her to exit the room. She didn't move. "Why'd you-" she gestured to her wrists.
"This is your chance to explain yourself," he paused before adding a meaningful, "Your one chance."
...
"Ms. Thompson," the man sitting behind the desk greeted her, his face unreadable. Mae entered the office, hands stiffly at her sides, eyes flicking around the room.
She recognized the doctor, standing off to the side. Next to him stood a short woman in a bright red uniform, arms crossed. A taller woman stood to her left, in the blue uniform of a science officer, same as the doctor. The Chief of Security took up a position on the other side of the desk, where he could get the best view of the room.
"Her quarters were clear," Odo said, and the first man who'd spoken nodded.
"I'm Commander Benjamin Sisko," he said, extending a hand and indicating the open chair. "Won't you sit."
It wasn't a question.
She kept a smile on her face, sitting and interlacing her fingers on top of her knee. "You Federation types are hard to read."
Sisko tilted his head. "Why don't you give us your side of what happened?"
Thompson chewed on the order for a moment before responding. "There was a misunderstanding, they thought I was someone I wasn't."
"I'd say it was something more than that," the doctor –Bashir, she recalled– said. "Most misunderstanding don't result in blows."
She didn't remove her gaze from the Commander. "It was a very strong misunderstanding."
"And what about these-" Sisko waved a hand at the fresh bruises coloring her face and arms, "new developments?"
"Oh, this –I tripped."
Odo scoffed, and she glanced over.
"Really, I did. Those cells aren't very comfortable, you know, very easy to lose one's footing."
The Commander's eye flicked to her throat and she remembered the angry red marks left by Nigel's hand. She swallowed, keeping her face clear.
"Odo?"
"She was alone when I arrived, the two Bajorans were gone. Her cell was open," he cocked his head, "yet Ms. Thompson remained."
"As you said, Mr. Odo, they, ah, left me behind. Must be because I'm so clumsy."
"Did they do this?"
Her jaw twitched. Feigning ignorance. "Whatever do you mean?"
Sisko didn't blink. "Odo, can you access the security footage of the cells from my office?"
Thompson stared straight ahead as the Chief of Security nodded and entered a prompt into the computer on the Commander's desk. In a moment the image appeared on screen. The other officers stepped closer, watching. She felt them at her back, tried not to flinch.
It was strange, to say the least, to watch herself in this way. First huddled on the bed, then noticing the entrance of Nigel. Trading words, with stiff shoulders and a clenching jaw. Warily stalking forward to meet the Bajorans. As the fist of one connected with the image of her on the screen, she could almost feel the ache of it connecting again, as if for the first time. Felt the jolts of trading blows, difficult with bound hands.
Then she saw Nigel's hands make contact with her throat and, grainy as the footage was, she felt clearly the humiliation of being forced to her knees. She watched him lean forward to hiss his words in her ear, then release her. Saw her attempting to rise and face him.
Then he disappeared from the screen, and she saw herself slump sideways.
Her cheeks were burning in shame, shoulders stiffened. Somehow she managed a retort, "See, I tripped, as I told you."
"Looks like you had some help," Was that something like compassion in his voice? She felt her lip curl.
"What's the point of this?" she snapped, cool manner fracturing. "To humiliate me? You've had your fun, either turn me in or let me go."
"Wouldn't you like to press charges? The Federation could-"
"I don't need help from you," she growled. "That's the last thing I want-"
"You have a history with this man?"
She said nothing.
"You're protecting your attackers, you must have some kind of-"
"Respectfully, sir," she threw as much venom into the words as she was able, "I'm not protecting anyone. I just don't need any trouble."
"The man," Sisko ordered, "Who is he?"
Thompson ground her teeth, knuckles white.
"Ms. Thompson," Sisko prompted.
Finally she spoke, her voice barely above a hiss,
"Galen Nigel. We once served under the same master-"
"'Master?'"
The humiliation didn't seem to want to end. "The same Captain. In exchange for our freedom, we served on his ship. Helped with the shipments of…goods."
"Freedom from what?"
"You ask a lot of-" she stopped herself, "Nigel and I were at a refugee camp together, on a far moon a few hundred lightyears from here. Nasty place. Our captain freed us, we ran his ship. Until I disagreed with some of his policies and we had a-" She searched for the right word, then glanced to the side and fixed the doctor with a glare, throwing the word his way, "misunderstanding."
His eyes widened in reply, and she turned her attention back to Sisko. "I went it alone for a while, then foolishly accepted a deal from Nigel. For old times' sake." She gave a harsh laugh. "I should've known better, but sentiment makes you foolish."
"And now you've brought him here."
"Very foolish indeed," Thompson said.
"Is he dangerous?" the short woman asked.
Mae nodded.
"Commander, we need to apprehend him, if he poses a threat to this Station."
"I have security teams searching for him now," Odo said, "They'll report to me as soon as they find him."
The beginnings of an idea formed in the corner of Thompson's mind. "I could help you with that –getting rid of him, I mean."
Odo stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "You've already brought him here, I'm not sure we're willing to accept any more of your help-"
"Odo," Sisko stopped him. "Go on, Ms. Thompson."
She licked her lips. "I could distract him, lead him through the wormhole. Lose him in the gamma quadrant. I'd need a ship-"
"If we give you a ship, we'll never see it again," the short woman's voice was blunt.
"True," Thompson admitted. "But both I and Nigel would be gone."
Sisko inhaled slowly. "Major Kira, thoughts?"
The woman barked out a laugh. "We'll find him and bring him to justice, we don't need the help of a smuggler."
"Alleged smuggler."
"Dax?"
"There's something I don't understand," the woman in blue said, "This deal, is that the reason Nigel has pursued you here?"
Thompson nodded. "He thinks I'm holding out on part of it."
"And are you?"
She was tempted to give a sheepish smile, an attempt to charm, but found herself unable to muster the energy. "Yes."
"Then it's simple," Kira said, "give him what he wants, and both of you go your separate ways."
"It's not-it's not simple," Thompson spoke very carefully, "There is a certain...artifact...that I've acquired, that he wants. Something that cannot fall into his hands, under any circumstances."
Sisko narrowed his eyes, thinking.
"Sir," she sat forward, growing somber, "I would die to keep it from him. I understand that no one on this Station should be put in that situation, which is why I'm asking for this chance. I can get rid of him, and keep you all out of this, I just need a ship and some time."
The office was silent.
Finally the doctor spoke, "But that's suicide!"
She cast a glance his way. "Not if he doesn't catch me."
Sisko shook his head. "I can't allow you to chance it."
Thompson found herself on her feet. "Sir, I'm not asking permission. If you say no, I'll steal a ship and do it anyway. You forget I'm not part of the Federation, you have no authority-"
"While you're on this Station, I'm responsible for your well-being. I cannot-I will not allow you to do this."
She sat abruptly. "I never understood that –why you noble Federation officers are so willing to put your lives on the line for a stranger." She shook her head.
"Empathy is a valuable skill."
She scoffed, "It's a fool's weakness." But there was a furious tug in her stomach that couldn't let her fully believe the words.
A voice called from outside the office, "Commander Sisko, a ship has disengaged from the docking ring."
Sisko stood. "I didn't give the authority for any ship to leave."
"They're powering weapons!" the voice continued.
"It's him." Thompson's voice was matter-of-fact, her eyes never leaving Sisko's. "Let me do this."
He straightened, and she all but shied away from the impressive scowl on his face. "Odo, keep her here. Doctor, Dax, Kira, with me."
The doors of the Commander's office slid shut behind the officers. Thompson slumped back in the chair for half a moment, then sprang to her feet. The Chief of Security fixed her with a wary gaze, which grew even warier at her next words:
"Do you still have those cuffs?"
...
"The channel's open," Dax called.
"This is Benjamin Sisko, Commander of Deep Space Nine," Sisko's voice rang out across Ops, "May I ask the reason you disengaged the docking mechanism from your ship?"
"I'm surprised, Commander, I thought your first question would be about the weapons we have trained on your shield generators. We could easily destroy them and leave you defenseless –unless you'd rather quibble about docking procedure?"
Sisko didn't return the smile. "Who are you?"
"Galen Nigel, pleasure to make your acquaintance. And an even further pleasure it would be if you'd release to me your prisoner."
"Who might you be referring to?"
Nigel barked a laugh. "What has she told you her name is? Thompson?" He gave a toothy smile. "That one."
"Ah, Ms. Thompson. As I recall, you left her behind."
Nigel's face fell into a scowl. "Yes, well, we all make mistakes, don't we, Commander? Now a mistake on your part would be to not hand her over. That mistake, I'm afraid, would result in an assault on your Station."
"You've already done quite enough assaulting on my Station," Sisko replied coolly, "I recommend you take your leave."
Before Nigel could respond, there was a commotion from Sisko's office.
"Get your hands off me, Federation scum," Thompson spat, backing out the door.
Sisko found himself wondering why her hands were once again clasped by handcuffs behind her back, though the thought was quickly forgotten.
The woman ducked under the very perturbed-looking Chief of Security's arm, falling back against a console. "I'll die before I tell you where it's hidden."
There was a flash of something close to confusion that crossed Odo's face, before the Changeling seemed to shake his head. "You'll tell me what I want to know," he growled, pausing before adding a, "Human," for emphasis. He loomed over her and, for a moment, fear was etched into the woman's features.
The terror quickly morphed to defiance. "The gamma quadrant is too vast, you'll never find it. You'll never make it through the asteroid belt!"
"That's enough," Odo snatched her arm and dragged her to the turbolift, Thompson putting up as much of a fight as she could in the iron grip.
She was throw roughly into the lift and fixed the man with a surprised stare as she hit the back wall with an 'oof.' The car began to descend, leaving Ops in a startled silence.
Sisko returned his gaze to the screen, noting the victorious gleam in Nigel's eye.
"The gamma quadrant, eh? I should have guessed." His laugh was high and cold, "Thanks ever so much for your help, Commander."
Before Sisko could respond, the connection had been cut.
"They're heading for the wormhole," Kira said.
The Commander threw his hands up in exasperation. "On screen."
There was a quiet scuffling as Thompson, her hands still behind her back, appeared at his side. Her wide eyes watched the portal flare to life in an explosion of blues and golds, the small black silhouette of Nigel's ship disappearing within.
As the wormhole vanished and smooth, black space was left in its wake, she glanced to Odo. "Thanks for playing along, I was hoping you'd catch what I was going for."
Kira seemed to arrive at understanding at the same time as Sisko. They exchanged a glance. "That was an act," she said.
Thompson nodded, rubbing her wrists as they were once again released from the restraints. "A touch dramatic, but Nigel has never been one to shy away from that." Casting a grin at the Chief of Security, she said, "That push into the lift really sold it," she rubbed her shoulder, "albeit painfully so."
"Well, it seemed to have worked," Sisko said, bemused.
"Ah," Thompson raised a fist and knocked on her head, "don't jinx it, Commander."
"You've sent them on a wild hunt through the gamma quadrant," Bashir said, brow furrowed, "for what, again?"
Thompson's hand reached for her chest, pressing the orb into her skin. As quickly as the hand had moved, it flew away. "Something very important. I appreciate your assistance, I assume I can be going now-?"
Odo's hand caught her shoulder again, though not as firmly as it had before.
"Let's have a chat," Sisko said, crossing his arms.
The two men exchanged a glance, and Thompson flashed her best worried-I'm-not-worried smile.
...
She was fully aware of the Commander's glare at her shoes being propped on the edge of his desk, but made no move to remove them.
"A job?" she repeated, warily.
"You could call it that," Sisko gave a nod.
Thompson was attempting to exude the air of a cool and collected negotiator, but being once again trapped in a room with so many Starfleet officers was certainly disconcerting. "We've established I don't work for the Federation, you can't order me around."
"Naturally," Sisko said.
"But before we could allow you to leave," Odo stepped forward, "we'd need to do another sweep of your quarters. Perhaps this time we'll turn up a few bottles of Aaamazzaran ale that I missed the first time around. I'm sure you're aware it's heavily regulated in this quadrant."
Thompson gave a wide smile. She'd hidden that well, how did he- "I don't know what you're talking about, sir, but you certainly won't find anything like that in my quarters."
"Naturally," Odo echoed the Commander's word, and Mae realized she was being given a very clear warning.
Sisko set a PADD on the desk, and Thompson eyed it. He said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow.
After a moment, curiosity got the better of her and she snatched it up, scanning the words. "What's this," she scoffed, "First you accuse me of being a smuggler-"
"I'd say we've moved beyond accusations at this point," Kira said, behind her.
"-and then you make the leap that the skills I may or may not have acquired in the completely honest life I lead may assist me in some way to a tailor?"
"Sir, you can't be serious," Bashir spoke from her right, "it's far too-"
"That's enough, Doctor Bashir," Sisko said. To Mae, "Do you accept?"
"Now hold on just a moment," she set the PADD down, "The good doctor seems to think this is a bad idea." She crossed her arms. "I'm interested to hear why."
"There are suspicions that this man's a Cardassian spy," Dax stood to Sisko's left, hands folded behind her back.
Mae snorted and returned to her reclined position. "The Federation's sending a smuggler to spy on a spy? And you wonder why I haven't rushed to join."
"We would simply require you to inform us about his whereabouts, any contact he has with individuals off the Station-" Odo began.
"I thought I was to be an assistant, not a babysitter."
"Do you accept?" Sisko repeated.
"I suppose I'm curious, sure." Thompson leaned forward. "But let's say, hypothetically, that I've got some shred of self-preservation left, and I don't accept. What then?"
"I'm sure you could take your chances in the gamma quadrant, that your friend Nigel won't find you. Or of course we could report our suspicions of you and bring a full Federation investigation down upon the Station."
"Quark would love that," Major Kira delivered the quip with a smile.
"Your choice," Sisko prompted.
Mae quietly exhaled through her nose. "That's the second time today somebody's given me a rather undesirable choice. I can't say I'm happy about my odds either way." She ground her teeth, knowing she was in a bind. "Fine."
Sisko smiled. "Return to your quarters, we'll collect you in the morning and introduce you to your new...supervisor."
She scowled, turning on her heel and striding from the office.
"I don't think Garak will react well to a Federation-ordered shadow, Commander," Bashir warned.
"On the contrary, I'm sure the two will delight in swapping thinly veiled insults."
"So who will spy on the spies?" Kira asked, leaning against the desk and crossing her arms.
Odo gave a harumph. "Leave that to me."
Sisko nodded, "They're certainly both dangerous in their own right. We'd take care to keep a close eye."
"I intend to." Odo nodded to the senior staff and exited.
Dax smiled. "This should be interesting."
Outside the Station, the wormhole once again flared to life, illuminating the windows of the Promenade with its brilliant glow.