Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, ships, etc. from Star Trek. I do not, in fact, even own the basic plotline from Star Trek.

Chapter One

As Dr. Bashir tried to shake himself awake, he began to pack his light traveling bag. The fact was: he hadn't gotten any sleep for almost a week, and it was beginning to wear on him. Deep Space 9 seemed to run on streaks of luck and high-caffeine drinks, but with all of the sudden injuries that the crew members were receiving in rapid succession, it appeared that he wouldn't get either for quite some time.

His luck changed for the better as the time drew closer for another of those medical conferences that he always seemed to be dragged off to. He usually enjoyed going and learning about recent technical or biological developments, despite the fact that it meant leaving the station and his patients to go listen to a group of pompous scientists argue about their different viewpoints. Now, the prospect was looking quite opportune, if he could only survive the night.

To accomplish this task, he decided to go down to Quark's for some tea before he finished packing.

"Darts, Doctor?" a voice intoned behind him.

"Right now, Miles? At the moment, I'm afraid, you would be able to beat me easily."

The Chief of Operations feigned surprise. "Not up for a challenge? You're not just a sore loser, are you?"

Julian smiled reluctantly. "Not a chance. Let's break out those darts."

"Now you're talking."

Whether it was the lights and sounds from the promenade, the fact that he was about to fall asleep on his feet, or both, he did indeed lose the game to Miles. In fact, he only hit one bull's-eye the whole time, which was extremely rare when he was actually trying.

"You're sure you didn't let me win?" O'Brien challenged suspiciously.

"Quite sure."

"Great." His round face was split by a wide grin. "How about another game?"

"Some other time, maybe. Now, I think I'll just head back to my quarters and…"

"Doctor Bashir!" a young officer called out. "Come quick!"

"It should be 'quickly' not 'quick'," Julian corrected crisply as he knelt near the unconscious form of Elim Garak. The initial scan he took did not look good- the pulse was pounding in his temples and his blood pressure was way up. "You, help me get him to the Infirmary."

The rooms were barely meters apart, and Bashir and his volunteer had dragged Garak to one of the beds within a minute. Fortunately, the equipment was all on hand to deal with the situation quickly and efficiently. Fifteen minutes later, Garak was blinking his way back to consciousness. "Ah, Doctor, what would I be doing here right now?"

"You're recovering from a claustrophobic attack."

Garak moaned. "You're not serious? I admit, I was a feeling a bit crowded, but I was hoping for a better story than that. People will begin to wonder about me if I spontaneously…" He choked out the word. "Faint."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be able to think up some clever story."

"Quite right. Now should I, as the brave survivor of a poisoned drink, get some more rest here in the Infirmary, or am I clear to go?"

"You ought to stay here for another five minutes or so, and for a while, stay away from… busy bars, as well as alcohol."

"Fine, fine. Will you be staying here to keep me entertained?" He gave his most charming smile.

"Actually, I was about to finish packing. I'm leaving for a medical conference on Meezan IV in about an hour." He hadn't realized that he had been playing darts so long. "And I want to get on the shuttle early."

"What do you have to pack?" the Cardassian asked curiously.

"Well, not much. But I like to double check to make sure I didn't forget anything."

"And triple check, etc."

"Sometimes," his weekly lunch-partner admitted.

"Don't want to forget Kukalaka, do we?" The Cardassian could never miss an opportunity to point out that Dr. Bashir was probably the only Starfleet officer to bring a teddy bear to his assigned post, memento or not. Of course, the idea amused him greatly.

Julian scowled. "Get out of my Infirmary; you're perfectly fine."

Garak grunted as he pushed himself off the bed, and nearly collapsed on the ground. "Liar."

"Well, I've been hanging around you too long."

"Oh, Julian, when will you get over this mistrust?"

"When you get over a spy," he retorted.

Garak grinned. "Of course. Don't miss your shuttle." As the doors were sliding shut behind him, he added, "Or your bear."

"Cardassians." Julian shook his head and trudged back to his quarters, and by the time he was done double-checking his triple-checking it was about time to go.

Kira was nearby, inspecting some incoming cargo, and they waved to each other as he boarded the ship. If possible, she seemed to need sleep more than him. "Good luck."

Bashir smiled and nodded in return before hurrying to his seat so he could crash there. He was asleep in moments, so he didn't notice when the craft launched from the space station. In fact, the only thing that woke him was a large jolt to the ship.

"What was that?" several passengers whispered to each other nervously. A couple glanced at Dr. Bashir- the only Starfleet officer on the civilian transport. Julian could only shake his head helplessly at them and walk up towards the cockpit.

A male voice sounded over the intercom at that point. "We apologize for the disturbance. Our ship was merely hit by a small wave of energy that does not appear to be harmful, so you may all rest assured that this will not hinder our scheduled arrival on Meezan IV."

Julian pursed his lips in thought. The man was definitely edgy about something, so he continued to the cockpit. "What's happening up here?" he asked one of the few crewmen.

Taking in his trim blue and grey uniform, the young crewman responded, "There's a ship out there, sir. It appeared from nowhere with this wave of energy."

The somewhat obese captain whirled around to reprimand the boy for giving information like that to passengers, but he, too, stopped short. "Well, what do you make of it, Lieutenant? I've never seen a ship that looks like that."

"It's definitely an old-style Earth ship." Bashir did consider himself somewhat of a history buff, but he mostly enjoyed reading about anything before the 20th century. After that, things just got depressing. "It's similar to a class DY-500. Maybe it's something a bit older."

"Whatever you say. D'you know if it's friendly?"

"If it's that old, it could be being used by anyone. I think we'll just have to play it by ear. Do your bioscanners detect life aboard?"

A crewman punched the required buttons. "Yes, there are people all right. They could be human."

"I suppose we'll just have to hope they decide to ignore us," the captain mused.

"Sir, the vessel is contacting us," a girl broke in. "It's in old Morse Code."

"What does it say?"

She glanced at the captain nervously. "'Surrender now or be destroyed'."