Chapter Five: Rescue Mission

"Jake was right about one thing," Bashir said as they seated themselves in the office, "someone has to go in there after him."

Miles was nodding agreement, but Dax frowned. "How would that help anything? It's not as if whoever went after him would be any less trapped and be able to bring him back."

"No, but they could be a lot of help to him while he's there," Bashir said grimly.

"Commander Sisko can take care of himself," Dax insisted.

"Not in the Old South, he can't," Bashir retorted. "Do you know anything about United States history?"

"On Earth? No, not really," Dax admitted, shaking her head.

"In the era it looks like the holosuite is depicting, blacks in the southern United States were slaves."

"Blacks?" Dax questioned.

"People of African descent with dark skin. Sisko is a descendant of those slaves, and now he's going to find out what it's like to be one."

"Just because of his skin color?" Dax asked in puzzlement. "That seems like so little to base prejudice on."

"Yes," Bashir remarked dryly, "we've found things that are so much more significant to base it on now. Anyway, a white Terran — preferably male, since women didn't have all that many rights, either — needs to go through to buy the commander."

"I'll go, Julian," Miles offered instantly.

Bashir shook his head. "You'll be more useful here trying to figure out how to get us back."

"'Us,' Julian?" Dax asked with raised eyebrows.

"I'm the only other ranking Terran male," Bashir pointed out. "Besides, a space station commander does not a good slave make; if they've punished him as harshly as history says they did, he'll need a doctor's care."

Dax sighed. "I'll take your word for it that you're needed, then."

"But, Julian, you're none too pale yourself," Miles objected. "Didn't they count anyone with one drop of African blood as black?"

Bashir grinned. "I'll come across as so British that they won't think to question."

"And if they do?" Miles persisted.

Bashir shrugged. "I don't know how they felt about the Middle East, but I can always claim some Mediterranean heritage if I have to; Spanish or Italian. Anyway, plenty of Caucasians tan this dark, and I've never had a problem in a Civil War holosuite before."

"This one's a little different," Miles said seriously.

"Yes, but it sounds like it was meant for Sisko; it won't have been programmed to discriminate against someone with skin just a shade darker."

"I hope you're right."

"We'll have to assume it is, if you both think it's likely Sisko will need a doctor," Dax decided.

Miles nodded reluctantly. "From the holoprograms I've seen of that time…it does seem likely."

"Then, Bashir, you have orders to go through as soon as you can get ready."

Bashir nodded crisply. "Yes, sir. I'll be bringing my tricorder and regenerators; since it's only a holosuite and not the real past, I don't have to worry about temporal regulations."

"No, but Sisko's combadge didn't make it through; I'm not sure any modern equipment will, either."

"Mm, good point," Bashir murmured. "Dax, can you do the research and replicate me some 1860s medical equipment and enough money to be sure of buying Sisko?"

Dax nodded, though an expression of distaste crossed her face at the thought of buying another human being. "You'll need clothes as well, I assume? Sisko went back in his uniform, but better for you not to stand out even if it isn't the real past."

"True, but I think I'll talk to Garak about that, if it's all the same to you."

Dax shrugged. "I don't suppose it makes a difference."

Bashir glanced at the chronometer as he got to his feet. "And in the interests of being ready to leave as soon as possible tomorrow morning, I'll go talk to him now and then stop in and check on Jake."

"What's the hurry?" Dax questioned. "Even if it is as bad as you say, surely that much couldn't happen to him in one day."

Bashir shook his head. "You tell her, Miles," he tossed over his shoulder.

"In one day, maybe not," Miles agreed as the door slid shut behind the doctor. "But time in holosuites doesn't run the same as real time; you might think you've been there an hour when it's only been five minutes. Depending on how accelerated this program's timeline is, who knows how long he'll have been there from his point of view before Bashir rescues him."

oOo

Early the next morning, the group met once again at the doors to the holosuite. Jake had begged to be allowed to come see Bashir off, and with the doctor's permission Dax had reluctantly agreed.

Bashir himself arrived last, carrying a top hat and cane in one hand and adjusting a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. "Well? How do I look?" he questioned, spreading his arms to give the full effect.

Miles whistled softly. "Like you stepped straight out of a history book. Are those sideburns real?"

Bashir nodded, rubbing a hand over the whiskers. "I gave myself a treatment with the hair follicle stimulator." Used to treat dishirsutism in species in which loss of hair was a danger to health, the stimulator could also be used to speed growth of hair on normal individuals, the only downside being that its lingering effects might require him to trim the sideburns several times a day.

Dax handed him a black medical case and a moneybag that clinked with the ring of gold coins. "According to my research, that should be enough to purchase the best slave three times over."

Bashir nodded. "Let's get on with it, then."

With a nod and a few murmured words to the guard, Dax stepped forward and keyed in the code to manually open the door.

The holosuite appeared just as they had left it, a quiet landscape of the Old South with the portal glistening and swirling in the middle.

The four of them stepped into the room, and Bashir drew a deep breath. "Well, I guess this is it. Jake —"

But Jake had taken a step forward determinedly. "Don't say goodbye to me; I'm coming with you."

"Jake, you can't," Dr Bashir said gently.

Jake scowled. "I'm fifteen; I'm old enough!"

"It's not that, Jake."

"Then what is it?" Jake demanded.

Bashir sighed. "No offense, Jake…but you're just as black as he is."

"So? I'd be with you; we could say I was your personal slave."

"Maybe," Bashir admitted, "but just how would that help your father any? It would just give me one more person to have to worry about — and one more person for O'Brien to have to worry about getting back. I'm sorry, Jake, but your father would never forgive me if I trapped you there as well."

"Then…what am I supposed to do?" Jake asked in a small voice.

"Wait? Look, Jake, I'm sorry; I know it would be easier if you could feel you were doing something to help. But there's not always anything that can be done."

Jake nodded, dropping his gaze. "Tell him — tell him I miss him?"

"Of course," Bashir said quietly. He put his hands on Jake's shoulders. "I'll find him and keep him safe, Jake…I promise you." He squeezed Jake's shoulders before releasing him, then nodded toward Dax and O'Brien and strode toward the portal without looking back.

Next chapter coming next week!

I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!

Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie