In Sunshine or In Shadow - Part3

Creek Johnson & Nance Hurt

Disclaimer: Paramount owns what it owns. We own what we own. No infringement intended - hopefully, none taken.

"Do you intend to walk the entire way there?" asked Jack Fellows. Kira stopped her pacing and turned to find the Captain of the Indianapolis standing in the doorway of the galley. "Don't mind me, I'm just here for a cup of coffee."

"Sorry," she replied, "I just hate having nothing to do."

"Traveling this side of the wormhole can get a bit on your nerves," said Jack rubbing his chin. "You know, you might want to be more careful what you wish for, if that last Jem'Hadar patrol had been any more nosy we would have had more than enough to do."

"Is it always like this? We've gotten the odd report about ships stopped at random and searched, but nothing like this."

"Actually, we've been lucky they've only wanted to scan us. The Jem'Hadar are edgy about something, not that they are likely to tell us what, mind you. Whatever it is, it must be big, I've never seen these shipping lanes so thick with them."

"You don't suppose word got out somehow?"

"Nah, if that were the case we'd be in prison by now. Look, they know this ship and they know me. What ever bee got in their bonnets this time must have happened while we were still in the Alpha Quadrant and has nothing to do with us. So, as long as we stay on course and don't show any intention of running we'll be fine. Now, if you really want a job to do, I need to go check the cargo bays to make sure nothings shifted. Want to help?"

Kira shrugged her shoulders. "Sure. Why not?"

"I like the ears, by the way."

"Don't get used to them."

"Mr. Rozko," said Marshall. "I have just spent the last couple of days wrestling with the guardians of Cardassian law. I am tired and frustrated beyond endurance. In other words, I am prepared to be astounded. I trust you will oblige me?"

The short Vulcan gave Marshall an impassive glance. "I will try Commander." Rozko turned and punched a series of commands into the computer and a map of the Alpha Quadrant appeared on the display. "Note, gentlemen, each blinking light represents a location where there has been a reported sighting of Mr. Odo within the last nine months."

"Prophets!" exclaimed Flato. "That many?"

"It appears," said Marshall, "Our Odo is a man of myth and legend."

"Precisely Commander" continued Rozko. "The majority of these sightings are indeed the stuff of legend. The tall stranger who saves a child, or rescues someone from thieves. We, however, are not interested in heroics. When you concentrate only on appearances of a dubious nature the possible number of locations alters greatly." He executed an additional set of commands, leaving only a dozen or so lights left on the map."

"You interest me strangely, Mr. Rozko," said Marshall. "Still that's a lot of territory in which to start a manhunt."

"I do not propose we hunt a man, Commander. I propose we hunt a ship."

"A ship?" asked Flato.

"Precisely. We know that in at least two incidents Odo was seen meeting with someone. That suggests a schedule rather than a random incident. Although travel through the Alpha Quadrant can be achieved quite easily, it is still best done if you have your own method of transportation, especially if you are trying to meet a schedule."

"So, if we find the ship, we find the man?" asked Marshall.

"I believe so, Commander."

"Still," said Flato, "Each one of those lights falls along a major shipping lane. There have to be hundreds of ships..."

"One hundred and two to be precise. However, if you factor in ships docked at Deep Space Nine during the time period in which Mr. Quark claims to have seen Odo on the station, the number drops to five."

"Five I believe we can handle," said Marshall.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Flato.

"What we do, my dear captain, is find out when each of those five ships will next arrive here and set a trap. Mr. Rozko, you are brilliant, sir."

"I take it Commander you have been sufficiently astounded?"

"The only thing that would astound me more, Mr. Rosko, is if you were to tell a joke."

It was possible to feel the life of the engines pulsating through the thin skin of the hull. He liked that. He sat on the floor with his back pressed firmly against the wall, lulled by the gentle vibrations the thrum of the engines sent through his body. He found it oddly comforting.

The pointy eared man, there was only one now, stood at the other end of the room and talked to a woman. At least, in the few moments he had been aware of things beyond his constant pursuit of the thought, he assumed it was a woman. It was hard to tell with that piece of cloth covering her head and neck. He puzzled over what she could possibly be hiding there?

He was vaguely aware they were discussing someone. He was puzzled over who it could be as there was no one else in the room with them. Perhaps the person they were talking about was hidden under the cloth? No, it would have to be a very small person to be hidden there. Occasional words pierced his clouded mind. Poor fellow, whoever it was. Couldn't dress himself or even remember what he looked like. He glanced around the room again. No, there was no one here, especially no one naked and faceless.

Although he found the darkness that clouded his mind had not plagued him as badly since they had come to this place, he still found it hard to follow conversations. Too many words got in the way. He laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Yes that was better. He was searching for something, but he could not remember what it was. It still lay on the outer reaches of his memory, but the outer reaches were coming closer. Perhaps the vibrations helped, he did not know. Or maybe it was just that the pointy eared man left him alone most of the time now. Except for occasional visits by the woman, no one came to talk or to poke at him. No, they just left him in peace.

He opened his eyes to find the woman's face not far from his. He pressed himself further against the wall in a sudden surge of panic. What did she want? She softly called a name. Was it his name or hers? He did not know. He went with the safest answer.

"Yes?"

She was speaking again, but the words held no meaning for him. He found himself staring at her mouth. There was something familiar about the mouth. He tentatively raised his hand. When she neither withdrew from him nor slapped his hand away, he gently touched her lower lip with the tip of his finger. It was soft. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his hand. He briefly made eye contact with her. Her eyes were bright with tears. The tears sent him into another fit of panic. Had he hurt her? He quickly pulled his hand away and stammered an apology.

"I'm….sorry."

He glanced at the pointy eared man for guidance, but the pointy eared man just stood at the far end of the room and stared impassively. He tried to stand, to get away, but his legs failed him. The woman was speaking again, softly the way a mother would to comfort a frightened child. Was she his mother then? He could not remember having a mother. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hand raised. He braced himself, blinking furiously in anticipation of a blow. But no blow came. She gently laid her hand against his cheek. Her face came closer to his, her lips parted. Was going to bite him? He closed his eyes. She gently pressed her lips to his forehead and his entire body shuddered with relief. When he opened his eyes again, she was gone.

The replimat was empty. Not that anyone was likely to find it crowded at that time of the morning. Vonda wondered, not for the first time, if she were insane to have accepted the post of Chief of Engineering of Deep Space Nine. She could be home right now, asleep in a comfortable bed, with not a care in the world. But no, she just had to jump at the chance to come to work out here. She glanced at her two silent companions, both brooding over their coffees.

"How about we try…..?" she said, with a definite lack of enthusiasm.

"Tried it," Ezri and Nog replied in unison.

"All right, I give up. We've done everything short of actually crawling into that damn recording and we still can't figure out how it was made. The only thing left to do is draw straws to see who gets to present the bad news to Marshall."

"No, thank you," said Nog. "I think I'd rather resign than have to face that."

Ezri leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on the table in a creditable impression of the Chief of Security. "Why, Mr. Nog," she said with a slow drawl, "You look like somebody just walked over your grave."

Nog sat straighter in his chair and executed a smart salute. "Mr. Marshall, Sir!" he said. "I have come to inform you that we can neither prove or disprove the validity of the recording."

"You disappoint me, sir. Why, if anyone would have had the audacity to inform me that three of our finest minds were incapable of unlocking the mysteries of recorded images and sound, why, I would have had to locked them up for public intoxication."

"Surely," said Vonda, as her companions fell into fits of laughter. "He's not that bad?"

"He reminds me of some of the characters out of Julians holoprograms," said Ezri. "The gray characters that aren't clearly good guys or bad guys. Terribly polite even when they are trying to kill you."

"That's it!" exclaimed Nog with such force that Vonda almost spit out her coffee.

"Surely you aren't suggesting Marshall is our second Odo?" asked Ezri.

"No," replied Nog. "Holoprograms!"

"You've lost me," said Vonda.

"You said earlier that we had done everything short of actually crawling into the recording. Why don't we?"

"Of course," said Ezri. "We can take the recording and modify it to run in the holosuite."

"We won't be able to interact with the images, but any flaws or imperfections in the recording will be enhanced on such a scale as to be undeniable."

With a brief but descriptive curse word, Colonel Kira Nerys rolled herself into a sitting position and swung her legs out of the bunk. No matter what she tried, she was not going to be able to get a good nights sleep.

She had not thought the journey she and Julian had undertaken would be easy, but she had not anticipated it would prove to be as difficult for her as it had been. It wasn't the possibility of discovery by the forces of the Dominion that bothered her. It was two days now since they had been intercepted by three Jem'Hadar ships intent on escorting them through Dominion space. Fellows had warned them that this was the most perilous leg of their voyage. Old habits die hard, the process of moving though hazardous territory without being detected was second nature to her and she had fallen back into her former cautious self without even really noticing it.

No, it was another matter that plagued her both sleeping and waking. The closer they came to their destination the more overpowering her fears became. She was forced to recognize a perversity in her nature, the more she wanted Odo the more she was plagued by doubts. What if, she thought, they arrived to find him gone? What if he were out there, somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant and the journey had been for nothing? If so, what was he up to and why had he not contacted her? On the other hand, what if they were to arrive to find the Odo on the Founder's home world was the impostor? What if they were walking into a trap? What if she couldn't tell the difference between the real Odo, her Odo, and the impostor?

She trembled slightly at the thought. That fear bit the deepest. He had been in the Link for over a year. They were bound to know everything about him, about them. What if she didn't know him as well as she thought? They had been inside his mind with an intimacy she would never know. Armed with that kind of knowledge, surely fooling her would be all too easy.

Even more disturbing was the possibility that they had already fooled her. She thought back to the last time she had seen him, nine months ago at the last round of Federation talks. Their first meeting outside the airlock had been awkward. It was much too public and much too formal an occasion for an outpouring of emotion and they were each a little too conscious of their new positions to accomplish more than a polite formality with each other. It wasn't until later that evening when they had both managed to break away that their first reunion after so many months apart had been happily consummated. At the time she had dismissed any awkwardness between them as a simple matter of nerves. Now she wasn't so sure. She cursed violently this time. Damn them, it was just like the Founders to attempt to destroy even her memories of him.

Unable to bear being in the cramped cabin any longer, she quickly dressed and was on her way up to the bridge when she found Julian and Jack Fellows in close conversation in the corridor. By the stern expression on the usual jovial Captain's face, she knew something was not right.

"I was just coming to get you," said Jack. "We'll be within hailing distance of the planet in just a few minutes. Until we are down on the planet and inside the embassy the two of you will do exactly what I say. Got that?"

She and Julian solemnly nodded their heads.

"Good." Jack continued. "I want the two of you to stand within view of the screen, but well away from any instruments. Don't speak unless spoken to, and what ever you do, do not react to anything. No smiles, no rolling your eyes, don't even twitch. The Vorta in control down there may not be too bright, but they are real SOB's. They are trained to look for any discrepancy. Anything out of the ordinary is going to attract their attention and in this case it's the two of you that will be their focus."

"Do you think," asked Kira "that our faked orders will be spotted?"

"No, like I said they're not real bright. The orders look exactly like all the other orders I've transmitted since I started this run. It's the two of you that they will be interested in. Gus and I will do our best to keep them distracted, but we can only do so much before our covering for you attracts their attention."

"And if this doesn't work?" asked Julian.

"We're dust."

"It's show time," announced Gus from the bridge.

"Right, let's go," said Jack.

Kira and Julian followed him onto the bridge and took their positions. Jack nodded to Gus, who put the signal through to the view screen. Kira concentrated on keeping her face as impassive as possible. Still, even though she knew he was dead, she had half expected to see the face of Weyoun and she hoped she had showed no hint of reaction when she realized the face on the screen bore little resemblance to the Vorta she had known. Damn, she thought, concentrate. She fixed her eyes on a point above the Vorta's head and refused to let them stray while Jack and Gus ran through the established protocol. Eventually the snake like eyes of the Vorta slid toward them.

"Passengers, Captain Fellows?" he asked.

"Observers," replied Jack. "Just here to check on any progress the scientific team is making. Their orders have been transmitted. If…"

"Yes, I see. However, there was no mention of observers the last time you were here."

"I didn't know myself until the last minute."

"I see. And how long will this…observation…take?"

"They go when we go. Seventy-two hours tops."

"I see. And this observation will determine what exactly?"

"The orders are explicit on that point. To determine how well your Vulcan medical team are getting along with their work and evaluation of the data collected for the continuation of the xenobiology project."

"Is there a question regarding the continuation of the project, as you so call it?"

"There are always questions."

"I see." He stared at them for what seemed a very long time. Kira was suddenly overcome by the unreasonable desire to stick her tongue out at him. Then suddenly he spoke.

"I'm terribly sorry, request denied."

"If there's a problem…," said Jack.

"Problem? Why should there be a problem?"

"No reason, I was just wondering if you want them confined to quarters while Gus and I…."

"Ah, I understand. No, that will not be necessary. I can not allow anyone contact with our guests."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"No one told you? I am surprised. The embassy is under quarantine."

"Quarantine?"

"Yes. A problem with the biofilter system I believe. What was the term used? Ah, Legionnaire's Disease I believe was the somewhat quaint term that was used."

"That is unfortunate," said Jack

"Yes. Anyway, a team of Jem'Hadar will be arriving shortly to transfer what supplies you brought with you. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused our Vulcan friends."

The view screen went blank. Kira was barely able to contain her anger. "Oh all the…"

"Do you really suppose it's Legionnaire's Disease?" asked Julian. "It's a very serious…."

"Stay put the two of you!" ordered Jack. "We don't have much time before the Jem'Hadar get here. No, Doctor I don't think there is anything wrong with the biofilters. I think it's all a sham to keep us from seeing Gevrik and Odo. Gus, start getting ready to record any and all signals from the surface. If I know Gevrik, he'll be trying to contact us as soon as they lower the planetary shields to allow ground transport through."

"One step ahead of you, boss."

"Good man. Now…"

Kira and Julian stood well out of the way and watched as Jack and Gus prepared for the arrival of the Jem'Hadar.

"Well," said Julian "this is somewhat disappointing. All this way for nothing."

"At least we are still in one piece, Julian," Kira reminded him. "I just wish we knew what was going on down there."

"Kira, I know this can't be easy for you…"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Disappointed, frustrated, angry, but fine."

If anyone were to ask, most security personnel would have confessed this was the time of the day that they loved most. Actually it wasn't day at all, it was the early hours of the morning. The Promenade was empty. Shops were closed for the night and even the Security Office was dark. A soft light glowed in the doorway to Quarks as a few Feregni bustled around cleaning up from the nights business. In the back of the Security Office, Marshall sat watching a bank of monitors.

"You know, Flato," he said softly, "Watching Quark count his days earnings, if you can refer to semi-ill-gotten gain as such, is an almost religious experience."

Standing in the shadows where she could keep an eye on the front entrance to Quarks, Flato Rey smiled to herself. "I'm a little disappointed actually," she said in a whisper. "I always imagined that at the end of the day, Quark would lay all that latinum out on the floor and roll on it."

"Perhaps being under such close surveillance is cramping his style a little."

"You forget gentlemen," said Quark. "I can hear every word."

"We haven't forgotten a thing, Quark," replied Flato. "It's just this is the third night we've been sitting here and so far we haven't even seen so much as a shadow that resembles our quarry."

"And you see that as an excuse to abuse my good name?"

"We hardly need an excuse for that now do we?" asked Marshall. "Anyway, the Finnean freighter leaves first thing in the morning, so we will be out of your hair for awhile. Figuratively speaking, of course."

Time, they say is relative. To Julian and Kira the Jem'Hadar apparently took their own sweet time unloading the cargo. To Gus and Jack they had never worked faster.

"Well," said Jack once they were again under way. "That was different. Gus, any luck?"

"Yeah, I think so. It's mostly ground clutter, but there's a garbled section here that may be in code. Give me a minute to see if I can unscramble it."

"Well Colonel, Doctor, let's hope this little escapade hasn't been in vain. I do have to say the two of you behaved very well. Tough, for a moment there Colonel, I thought you were going to bust a gut."

"If I ever get my hands on that smarmy little weasel," said Kira, "A gut isn't the only thing I'm going to bust."

"Yeah well, you have my permission to take it out on your quarters later. Hell, I may not even fix it. I may just leave it as it is and just put up a plaque. 'Colonel Kira Nerys Slept Here' how does that sound? Bet Gus and I could charge admission. What do you say Gus?"

"I'd say you better listen to this first."

The view screen came to life with static which eventually resolved itself into the image of a Vulcan.

"Captain Fellows," said the placid voice of the Vulcan. "By now you will no doubt have been told we are all in quarantine due to problems with the biofilters. I assure you this is not the case. Unfortunately it was necessary to create what you would refer to as a cover story in order to obscure the fact that both Commander Gevrik and Odo are gone. There isn't enough time for me to explain in detail. Attached to this transmission you will find a brief explanation by Commander Gevrik and the complete medical profile on Odo. Please deliver them to Colonel Kira and Doctor Bashir upon your return to Deep Space Nine." The screen lapsed again into static.

"What the hell?" said Jack. "Gus?"

"I'm working on it."

"Gone?" asked Kira dismayed. "Gone where?"

"You don't suppose he means…gone, as in…"

"Shut up Julian," said Kira and Jack in unison.

There exist places throughout the known galaxies where the light of day never reaches. Where no breeze ever stirred. Where nothing decent ever thrived. This was one of those places. The man in the Starfleet uniform stood in the doorway for a moment. The air was so thick he doubted anything dropped would ever reach the floor. It took only a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark and to locate the two he sought. He pushed his way through the crowed bar. The two Finneans looked up at his arrival.

"Mr. Dunlap, we presume?" said the taller of the two.

"Mr. Grgor and Mr. Zit, I presume?" he said. "Gentlemen I would be obliged if for now on, no names please." He took a seat and waved the bartender away with a curt motion of his hand.

"If you were really concerned with keeping a low profile you wouldn't have shown up here wearing that uniform." said Zit, the shorter of the two Finneans.

"I assure you, this uniform opens more doors than you dare imagine. A security officer may go many places others may not."

"I thought we agreed not to meet again?" said Grgor, the taller Finnean.

"Indeed we had, but there has been an unfortunate change in plans. The pigeon has taken to flight, if you get my meaning."

"So, what do we do now?" asked Grgor.

"There are only a couple of places we can expect him to roost and fortunately they are not far from each other. Your instructions are here." He handed them a padd. "When you arrive lay low and I will get in contact with you. Under no circumstances are you to contact me. Do you understand?"

The Finneans nodded in agreement.

"Wait a minute," said Grgor, looking at the information on the padd. "There are two pictures here. Our agreement was for one."

"I am still interested in the elimination of only one party," said their companion. "However, the situation may call for the elimination of the second should she choose to stand in our way. You will be compensated accordingly, Gentlemen. Is there a problem?"

"No."

"Good, I dislike problems. Now, when can you leave?"

"In a week, as arranged."

"Excellent. Oh, and one other thing, Gentlemen, do not disappoint me. I do not take kindly to being disappointed."