Disclaimer: Star Trek Deep Space Nine is the property of Paramount. Star Trek was created by Gene Roddenberry, who lives on as the god of the universe he designed.

Chapter 12

Vic's was unusually crowded that night. A diffused bronze glow and an air of conviviality spread to all corners of the room. Vic was singing on stage.

Dr. Bashir felt the muscles of his face relax, but he was too tired to smile. It had been another long, frustrating day. He wanted to get Dr. Grek out of stasis soon. Long term stasis could be dangerous, not to mention that he could use her expertise.

Bashir saw something that certainly didn't belong in 1960's Vegas, and he quickly silenced his thoughts.

"Dr. Bashir!" Nshevalth called from over the heads of the other patrons.

He worked his way through the crowd to the table where Nshevalth and Burnau sat.

"Won't you please join us, Doctor?" Burnau asked amicably.

"I'd be delighted." Though not sarcastic, his tone of voice carried no indication of delight. It wasn't that he wanted to be rude; he was just too worn out to be pleasant. "I must admit, I'm surprised to see you here," he said after taking a seat. "I know you don't like Quark, and you could use your own holosuites…"

"We've heard how popular this program is with the station's staff," Burnau explained, "and decided that if we're going to be living here, we should acquaint ourselves with the local culture."

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do," Bashir quoted.

Nshevalth gave him a blank look. "Rome?"

"It's a city on Earth," Burnau explained. "The nucleus of one of their most powerful ancient empires. Many Earth expressions either refer to it or originated in it."

"Yes," Bashir confirmed. "That specific expression recommends acting as natives do while in their territory."

"I gathered that. The Tzenkethi have a similar saying: 'On the Mlehketh Peninsula, do exactly what the Mlehkethi do exactly when the Mlehkethi do it or suffer a horrible, horrible death.' I believe it used to be Mlehketh's official motto."

Bashir couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "There's something I've been wondering," he said, changing the subject. "I know Betazoid society is matrilineal and traditionally the husband takes the surname of his wife upon marriage, but I don't know if Tzenkethi use surnames or are patrilineal like most warlike societies. What did you do when you were married?"

"Tzenkethi don't use surnames, so Nshevalth took my name," Burnau said. "Exceptions are sometimes made to the rule of matrilineality on Betazed, especially if a family has no daughters."

"I see," said Bashir. His curiosity satisfied, he changed the subject again. "So how do you like this holoprogram?"

"It's very relaxing. I like how quiet holosuites are."

Bashir arched his eyebrows. "Quiet?"

"On a telepathic level, I mean," Burnau amended.

"Of course."

Vic finished his song and came down to greet Bashir. "Pallie! How kind of you to drop by. And who are your friends?"

"Vic, this is Burnau and Nshevalth Bez. And this is our host, Vic Fontaine."

"Always a pleasure to see new faces." Vic gave them a crooked smile.

Nshevalth's translucent purple eyes bulged slightly as she examined him. "Incredible work…very impressive."

"I'm glad you like what you see," Vic said a little flirtatiously.

"Nshevalth is a holonovelist," said Bashir. "A good one, from what I hear."

"Oh really? Talented and beautiful." He spoke to Burnau, "You lucky duck."

"I know you're only programmed to say that, but still, thank you."

"Hey, pallie, I might just be a collection of photons in a forcefield, but I can still recognize a doll when I see one."

Burnau looked confused. He turned to Bashir. "He knows he's a hologram?"

"Long story."

Nshevalth smiled at Vic. "On my home planet, being called a 'doll' is an insult severe enough to warrant a fight to the death. But I know you meant it as a compliment."

"Of course, Tzenkethi can use almost anything as an excuse for a fight," said Burnau. "They consider violence recreational."

"That is true," Nshevalth conceded.

Vic looked amused. "Remind me never to vacation on your planet. Is this your first visit to Vegas?"

"For me. Burnau visited the real Vegas while he was studying on Earth."

"Though it's so different now, you probably wouldn't recognize it," he told Vic.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. Any requests for the next song?"

"Whatever you feel like, Vic," Bashir said.

Their host returned to the stage.

Nshevalth gave Burnau a glance, and Bashir had the impression that they were communicating telepathically. Then Nshevalth stood up.

"I'm going to go get more of this 'champagne' from Quark. I'll be back in a minute," she said as she slipped away into the crowd.

Vic started singing a song about someone falling in love with a woman he just met.

"You have a lot of practice concealing your thoughts from telepaths, don't you?" Burnau asked quietly.

Bashir was surprised, though he realized he shouldn't be. "I'm genetically enhanced. For years I had to keep it a secret, especially at the Academy. I took some classes with Betazoids, so I learned to be very careful with my thoughts."

"Sometimes concealing something only serves to alert people to the fact that you have something to conceal."

"Everyone has something to conceal."

Burnau conceded the point with a nod. "I understand that with the nairait threat, it's hard to trust anyone. Just so you know, you're not the only one on the station keeping secrets."

Bashir stared at him. "Really?" he said suspiciously.

"Someone from Starfleet Security came to talk to Commander Vaughn in the middle of the night. Ro was ordered to erase evidence of the visit as soon as he left the station. I'm not even supposed to know about it, but Ro isn't as skilled at controlling her thoughts as you are. I'm not sure if it has anything to do with nairait."

"I'm sure Vaughn would tell me if he thought I could help. I trust him completely."

"But how can you be sure he's still Vaughn?"

The words charged the air between them like static buildup before a lightning strike.

Nshevalth returned with a bottle and a couple of champagne glasses.

"I'm sorry to walk out on you," Bashir said apologetically as he pushed away from the table, "but I'm afraid I'm exhausted. I'll see you later."

"Goodnight, Doctor," Nshevalth called after him as she poured the champagne.

Vaughn waited by the airlock to welcome his commanding officer back to the station. When the doors opened, Kira walked out wearing civilian clothing and looking like she was coming back to work after a vacation.

"I'm glad to see the Rio Colca is still in one piece," Vaughn joked. "Deep Space Nine has a reputation for losing its runabouts."

"Not entirely undeserved, I admit," Kira said. "Has anything happened since I've been gone that I should know about?"

"Nothing that wasn't in the briefing I sent you. I hope you had time to read it on your way back?"

"If it's the one about Dr. Grek…" she nodded somberly. "Yeah. I read it. I'm only glad that Julian's alright."

"It was close. He's been obsessed with finding answers about the nairait. I'm worried about him."

"Julian's the kind of person who sometimes takes on more responsibility than he can handle," Kira stated.

Vaughn gave her a look. "I know people like that." He considered leaving it at that, but changed his mind. "It wasn't a particularly smart move going after the Marquis on your own. You're lucky to be alive."

"Everyone who survived Bajor's occupation is lucky to be alive. I guess I still have the guerilla fighter's mentality of throwing myself at a problem with all I've got and hoping it breaks before I do."

"This time it worked. Starfleet told me to give you their thanks for bringing in the Marquis terrorists…and for making sure this didn't cause a diplomatic incident with the Dominion. What's in the box?" He indicated the small black box Kira was carrying.

"Just something I bought during my stopover on Bajor," she answered evasively.

When Kira got to her quarters, she lifted the lid off the box. Inside, nestled in protective cloth, were two platinum bracelets. She pulled one out and admired it under a light. She'd bought them in Lonar Province, and the metal had been worked into the delicate woven design the artists of that region were famous for. Small gems of grey-green kornerupine and orange-brown andalusite—both mined in the mountains of Dahkur Province—were set into the metal's weave. After turning it in her hands for a minute, Kira put the bracelet aside and went to bed.

Ever since Taran'atar attacked her, every time Kira fell asleep, she could still feel the blade in her chest. It didn't hurt, exactly, but she could feel it. She told herself it was just her imagination, but some voice inside her told her it was something more, something etched into her psyche. Not that it had been the first time she'd been sure she was about to die, or the first time someone she trusted betrayed her, or the first time one event was connected to the other…but somehow it changed her. She considered that the feeling was a gift from the Prophets to remind her that she was alive.

The door chimed. Kira grunted as she forced herself back from the brink of sleep. "Computer, time?" she slurred groggily.

"The time is twenty-five fifty hours."

She rolled out of bed, forced her eyes open, and grabbed a robe before answering the door.

Ezri Dax stepped inside. "Sorry to wake you up, I didn't know you were asleep already."

"Ezri! I didn't know you were back on the station."

"I just got here this morning. I wanted to talk to you about possibly returning to my counselor duties."

Kira rubbed her eyes. The lights in her quarters were too bright, and her vision was blurring off and on. "I thought you were enjoying command."

She shrugged. "I am, but I think I'm more cut out to be a counselor. I miss working with people one-on-one, as an equal, not a superior. You know what I mean?"

"If that's what you want, I fully support you."

Ezri spotted the bracelet lying on the desk. "This is pretty. May I?" Without waiting for an answer, she picked it up and examined it under the light. "That's interesting. The gems are different colors when viewed from different angles. I think that's called pleochroism. Wait a minute…" She cocked her head at the bracelet, and then at Kira. "I know what this is: this is a Bajoran betrothal bracelet!"

Kira looked away.

"Is it for Odo?" Ezri pressed.

Kira walked to her window and stared out at the stars. She felt a little embarrassed, but didn't want to lie to her friend. "I don't care if I can't see Odo very often. In fact, it wouldn't matter even if I could never see him again…I want to marry him. I know how ridiculous that is, but I want to prove to him how much he means to me."

"I really don't think he needs a bracelet or a commitment to know you love him, Nerys."

"But still…it's what I want. I want to have a traditional wedding on Bajor," she smiled wistfully, "with hundreds of guests, feasting, decorations... I want the Emissary to perform the ceremony. And then Odo will return to the Dominion, and I'll stay here, and everything will be like it is now, except we'll be married."

"No offense, but that sounds kind of crazy."

Kira turned to her with a wry smile. "Is that your professional opinion, Counselor?"

"No. And I'll be the first to admit that love in general is a little crazy," she sounded too serious for Kira's comfort. "But have you really thought this out?"

"Of course I have."

"I mean from all possible perspectives? Even Odo's?"

Her smile faltered. "You think Odo will say no?"

Ezri laughed. "Are you kidding? That man worships you. I think the moment you asked him he would be the happiest person in the galaxy. But he has responsibilities. How do you think the other Founders or his Dominion subjects would feel if he married a solid?"

Kira's eyes narrowed. "They're not his 'subjects', Ezri. I think if anything it would help his cause of convincing the Dominion that changelings and solids are equal. Besides, it's not like our relationship is a secret as it is."

"I suppose you would know better than I would," she said dismissively.

Kira leaned against her desk. She felt her fatigue as a physical weight on her brain. She was too tired to attempt to convince Ezri.

Shouldn't Ezri be happy for her?

Kira thought back on the vision she'd had of being controlled by nairait: her memories were intact, the nairait knew what she was expected to say and how she should act…but couldn't make it convincing.

The real Ezri would be happy for her, no matter how illogical she thought her decision was.

Kira's head suddenly felt much clearer. Ezri mentioned that she wanted to work one-on-one with people. Privately. All the better to infect them without anyone noticing. And she let her walk into her quarters in the middle of the night. Or maybe she was just being paranoid. Kira hoped to the Prophets that she was just being paranoid.

"I'm sorry," she said, pretending she'd dozed off while standing for a second. "I'm very tired. It's good to see you, Dax. I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Of course. Just one more thing, though…"

From the corner of her eye, Kira saw nairait seep from Ezri's skin. Her well-honed survival instincts kicked in, and she grabbed a phaser from her desk without looking and set it to maximum as her hand swung it up. She aimed and fired, knowing that she had to work fast if she was going to survive.

"You missed," the nairait-possessed Ezri said mockingly.

"No, I didn't. Emergency transport to Ops," she shouted at the computer. The next thing she knew, she was standing in Ops. An alarm was blaring. The so-called nightshift was on duty. Though Kira had met them all at one point or another, she didn't work with them enough to be sure about their abilities, and only hoped they were up for the challenge she'd just created for them.

"Hull breach in the habitat ring…"

"My quarters. Have they been sealed off?"

"Yes. There's a twenty percent drop in pressure."

"Lifesigns?"

"One humanoid. Lifesigns stable."

Kira breathed a sigh of relief. The riskiest part of burning a hole in the wall of her own quarters had been the possibility of killing Dax. She didn't know if she would have been able to live with that, even if it was necessary. "Lower temperature in those quarters to…two-hundred and fifty Kelvin."

Lieutenant Commander Tanoro Skala, who was the ranking officer on duty, gasped in shock. "Nairait?" he said. "There's nairait in your quarters!"

"Lower the temperature," Kira commanded again.

Skala turned to his console and hastily followed the order.

Dr. Bashir did some last-minute adjustments to the double-forcefield he'd set up in the Infirmary. A layer of air cooled to a few degrees above Absolute Zero separated a biobed from the rest of the room. "That should do it," he said wearily. "Computer, transport Ezri Dax to prearranged coordinates."

The transporter shimmer deposited Dax on the biobed. She appeared unconscious.

"We have no way to tell if she's still infected or not."

"Is she still alive?" Kira asked.

"Yes."

"Then I'm betting she's still infected. From the way this nairait has been acting, I think it would kill any host it didn't find useful anymore."

Bashir seemed distracted, maybe nervous. "There's something you should know about the nairait."

"What?"

He hesitated, trying to decide how much he should reveal to her. "In their elemental form, they communicate with each other by touch. Their quantum nature makes it possible that they can have a certain awareness of each other over greater distances, but I believe when they're in a host they have to rely on conventional means to communicate. I think we should check Dax's communications log."

"You think she may have been in touch with other hosts?"

"I don't know. But I think it's possible there are other infected people on this station, and one of them might have contacted Ezri to tell her to come here…maybe someone who can't infect others as inconspicuously as Ezri could."

Kira shivered. Anyone could be infected. Even, she realized, Dr. Bashir. She cast a furtive glance in his direction, only to find that he was staring at her with the same look of suspicion. They didn't move for a few long seconds. They looked like they were contemplating grabbing a weapon to point at each other.

"You think it could be me," Kira said, stating the obvious.

"Right now, Kira, I'm not even sure I can trust myself."

She forced herself to relax, took a deep breath through her nose, and looked over at Dax. "Keep working on a way to find the nairait. Share everything you have with Starfleet Medical. I'll contact them to make sure you have. And tell Ro about your theory that someone on Deep Space Nine contacted Ezri." Kira started walking away. She decided to head to Nshevalth's café for a raktajino, then remembered that it was still the middle of the night and the café wouldn't be open for a few hours.

"Kira, wait."

She stopped.

"There's something else...I'm not absolutely certain…In fact, it's really just a hypothesis…"

She looked at him expectantly.

Then he reconsidered again. Did he really trust her enough to share what he discovered? What if she was infected? Maybe it wouldn't matter. Or maybe it could get some people killed, whether or not it turned out to be true…which he couldn't bring himself to believe it wasn't.

"Doctor, tell me," she said, becoming impatient.

She would be suspicious if he didn't tell her, he reasoned. Besides, she was the only one he would trust bringing in on his discovery; if he chose not to tell her, he was truly alone. He glanced over at the sleeping Dax and the container of nairait. "Not here," he whispered. "Not now. We both need our sleep, and this will take some time to explain. Meet me tomorrow after work."

"Where?"

"Somewhere we won't be overheard." He steered her out the door. The station was quiet this late.

"My office?"

"No. It might be bugged. Vic's."

"Why the secrecy?" she asked nervously.

"You'll understand tomorrow," he replied.

Kira spent the night in one of the empty guest quarters while hers was repaired and decontaminated. She slept in (highly unusual: years in the Resistance conditioned her to be such a light sleeper that the computer's irritating wake-up call sometimes caused her to jump out of bed with one hand raised in a fist and the other searching for a phaser) and so was late for work.

Vaughn approached her when she walked into Ops. "We need to talk," he said.

"Is it urgent?" she asked.

"'Urgent' is a relative term. It's about Dax. I'd like to discuss this in private."

"It can wait," she determined as she walked into her office and sealed the door behind her. "Kira to Ro."

"Yes Captain?" came the reply over the comm system.

"Has Dr. Bashir been in touch with you?"

"He left me a message last night. I read it as soon as I got to my office. I've been investigating his suggestion." Her answer was so circumspect that Kira wondered if she had reason to believe the comm system wasn't secure.

Next, she contacted Starfleet Medical to confirm that Bashir had sent his update to them. She was connected to a man named Dr. Zehibmituzm, who assured her that Bashir contacted him just that morning to report that Ezri Dax had been infected and was in containment.

"I don't like this situation," the Orion doctor moaned.

"Who would?" Kira asked rhetorically.

"I've been on parasite containment before," he said. "And it's always challenging. Mind-controlling parasites are so common, and yet so fundamentally terrifying…the thought of having your actions and your very mind taken out of your control is one of the most primal fears of any sentient being. And that we don't know how to detect nairait, much less how to cure it…and especially after what happened at Deep Space Three…"

Kira's blood ran cold. "What happened at Deep Space Three?"

Dr. Zehibmituzm looked confused. "The attack. The patients escaped. Didn't anyone tell you?"

"No. What happened?"

"Two Romulan Warbirds and a Klingon Bird of Prey attacked the station. At first it looked like they were trying to destroy it, but as soon as the shields went down, they beamed the crew of the U.S.S. Fortitude on board, cloaked, and disappeared. And they stole the Fortitude while they were at it. Sometime during the battle they managed to fit it with a cloaking device."

"Which means they have at least four ships under their control."

"And who knows how many others in the Klingon and Romulan empires," he added dismally. "It is ironic, isn't it? Klingons and Romulans fighting side-by-side for the first time…and it has to be under the influence of a mind controlling cosmic goop."

Kira grunted her agreement. "How long ago did it happen?"

"About a Standard week. That's why I was so surprised no one told you. Starfleet Security is trying to keep news of the attack restricted, but I was sure you'd be the first person they told."

"It was probably just a miscommunication," Kira said as lightly as she could. "It must be pretty frantic over at S.S. with two Romulan Warbirds, a Klingon Bird of Prey, and a Federation starship at large in the Alpha Quadrant."

Dr. Zehibmituzm managed a weak smile. "Yes…I'm sure."

Kira signed off and called Starfleet Security. She was quickly routed to Admiral Tülhesti, who had been charged with handling the nairait situation. "Captain Kira. I didn't know you were back in the quadrant."

"I arrived a few days ago," she said. "I was just wondering why no one told me about the attack on Deep Space Three."

"Vaughn should have informed you. I updated him on it myself."

"That's strange. He didn't include it in his report to me."

"He should have," she said, looking very, very serious.

"Perhaps it slipped his mind," Kira suggested. Her tone was full of doubt.

"It doesn't seem like the kind of thing he would forget."

They looked at each other quietly for several seconds. "Assuming he's infected," said Kira, "what possible motive would he have to keep this from me?"

Tülhesti thought about it carefully. "I have no idea," she finally admitted.

The comm interrupted. "Ro to Kira."

"Go ahead."

"It's Vaughn! When I was looking over Dax's communication logs I found some gaps where she erased some communications, so I checked to log of outgoing communications from the station. Only Vaughn's corresponded. I also found out that he's been sending subspace signals to interstellar coordinates near the Romulan Neutral Zone, starting from just after Dr. Grek arrived on the station."

"Thank you, Ro. I'll get back to you shortly. Kira out. Did you get that, Admiral?"

By way of answer, she said, "From what we've been able to reconstruct of Dr. Grek's movements, it seems she took a detour to Sappora VI right before going to your station."

"That's where Dax was before coming here."

Tülhesti nodded. She already knew this, probably having looked into it after learning Dax was infected. "Grek infects Dax in case she gets discovered, then infects Commander Vaughn to find out where the crew of the Fortitude was being held, Vaughn tells the nairait hosts with the warbirds…I'm beginning to see the method to this madness. It looks like the nairait aren't telepathic, but new hosts know what the hosts that infected them knew. Their strategy is only somewhat cohesive."

"I think you're right," Kira agreed. She made a hard decision. "I also think that two known nairait infections—three, counting Vaughn—put this station at too high a risk. As of now, we're under quarantine. How soon can you have a flotilla in place around Deep Space Nine to make sure no unauthorized ships leave?"

"An hour," Admiral Tülhesti replied unhesitantly. "We've already planned for this contingency."

"Good. I'll contact you again as soon as Commander Vaughn is secure." When the connection cut off, she added to herself, "However I manage that."