"This is wrong, Worf! It's so, so wrong!"

An insolent echo bounced off the walls of one of the Defiant's guest cabins, and the Dax-replicant (who was once again back in her own reality) pushed herself off the bunk. Their argument had been going on for the past hour, but was now reaching shouting proportions, her pent-up fury resonating inside the small space like antimatter burning inside a warp core reaction chamber. Her eyes, normally passive and grey like the ocean on a cloudy day, flared with anger against the unyielding wall of Klingon in front of her. He tried to lay a scarred, brawny hand on her back, but she tossed it off with a violent jerk of her arm. "Don't touch me. This is…it's…" she sighed as her reason began to take over again. "I don't know what it is. But we shouldn't do this. It's just not fair! They rescued us, brought us back to health, gave us showers and food, took us at our word. At our word, Worf! How long has it been since someone actually believed a tale like that? I can't remember. We're just exploiting them. We're as bad as the Borg if we do this!"

The Worf-replicant wheeled around, and his face was a mask of anger that made her jump a little. Pure Klingon aggression. "If we hesitate, we will lose the war," he said, simply and quietly, then he turned and kept working on the console. "If we lose the war, we will be assimilated. Is that what you want?"

"No!"

"Then co-operate."

"No!" The Dax-replicant stamped her foot to illustrate her point. "Have you been fighting for so long that you've forgot how it feels to be cared for? How it feels to be believed? This Benjamin was willing to take us in and help us, even if Starfleet wasn't! And you want to repay that with this? It's insane and it's twisted and it just isn't fair, Worf!" Now her eyes were wet and red; she wiped the tears away with a sleeve, not allowing herself to cry just yet. "I'm going to tell them. I'll call a security team on the ship's intercom and they'll throw you in the brig." She turned and tapped her comm badge.

"Dax, no!" The Kira-replicant stepped in. She had been lying on a bunk, toying with her hand phaser's settings, but now she felt obligated to say something. The Bajoran went to the Dax-replicant and took hold of her arms, gently but firmly. "Jadzia, listen to me. Jadzia!" The Trill looked at her through tear-stained eyes. "I know, I know, it's not fair. But our lives aren't fair. We've fought since we were old enough to aim a phaser, and we're still fighting. This is a chance that we won't get again. This is a chance to end it all! We can be free and peaceful like the replicants, and we'll never have to see another drone in our lives. We can't pass that up, Jadzia, not now, not ever. You have to understand! It isn't fair, and if there was any other way, we would do it. The replicants have helped us so much, and we are going to be forever in debt to them for that, but they've also given us an opportunity to bring this whole wretched war to an end, once and for all." She blinked and found tears in her own eyes. Prophets, how long has it been since I've cried? They seemed almost foreign to her. Death had become an everyday occurrence, loss as common as taking a breath. But Dax was hurting, and Dax had genuine sympathy for the replicants and their stable universe. Kira felt the same way, but she also felt a purpose that had to be accomplished.

"Damn it, Jadzia, now you've made me go all teary-eyed," she grinned. But the smile gave way to sadness after a moment. "We'll make it quick. Then they can go home, and our war will be over."

The Dax-replicant tried to smile in return, but couldn't, and started wiping the tears away. "Promise me that we won't hurt them," she whispered shakily. "We can't hurt any of them, especially Benjamin. I would die a hundred times over to save him again, Nerys, and I'll do that for him now."

The Kira-replicant nodded. "I promise. Let's do it."