Star Trek: Absolution
Chapter XV: Checks And Balances
Dr. Julian Bashir hastily completed the latest round of tests on their prisoner, who was currently lying sedated on one of the Sickbay beds. Several hours ago the Defiant had officially rendezvoused with the growing coalition fleet of ships, allowing Riker and his Enterprise crew mates to beam home for a well earned rest. As a professional courtesy to Dr. Crusher, Bashir had promised to finish the latest series of brain tissue scans without her and then transfer a copy of all of the information to her home starship. It hadn't taken more than a quick glance at the expression on her face to determine she had just been through an awful lot.
Only Commander Data seemed to shrug everything off with minimal impact on his positronic personality, and interacting with the android had always intrigued Bashir. He had met Data on several occasions, usually at official functions, and the miraculous accomplishment the sentient android's mere existence presented was irresistible to him from both a biological and scientific standpoint. It was always an honor to observe the Lieutenant-Commander and get a truly close up view of a very unique and new life form.
Both of the security guards assigned by Kira were standing guard outside of the room's only exit. Harold Sailes had been given a very heavy sedative but Bashir still considered himself on guard after hearing LaForge's warning about the Guardians and their unique ability to phase through solid objects. He and Dr. Crusher hadn't determined whether any of these traits had transferred into Mr. Sailes along with his entirely new personality, but they would find out in the morning when the man from DNX-920 was officially scheduled to be awakened and questioned.
Julian shut off his work station and ordered the computer to dim the lights in the Sickbay. He was preparing to return to his quarters when the unmistakable sound of a Dominion-style transporter caught his attention. A glow on the far side of the small room right next to the sleeping prisoner filtered through several vertical bands of bluish-green and finally coalesced into a shadowy humanoid figure.
"He looks just like Harold Sailes, farmer and part time local council member from Volan doesn't he?" the newcomer said to Dr. Bashir using a very gravelly, very familiar voice. "At first glance most people would never even think to consider him as great a threat to Federation security as the Dominion and the Borg, would they?"
"Computer, restore lighting to full illumination," Bashir demanded. The computer quickly obliged and he stared with disbelief at the man standing in front of him. "Sloan," he gasped, recognizing the cocky, unmistakable grin on the face of one of the most dangerous people he had ever met. "But it can't be you, you're dead!"
"Do you really think that I'd willingly commit suicide without a way back? How could I when there's so much work left to be done keeping our United Federation of Planets safe from its enemies?" He stepped forward, and his expression changed from one of mild humor at Bashir's reaction to his unexpected presence instantaneously back to a look of deadly seriousness.
Julian picked up a medical tricorder off the nearest countertop and began scanning Sloan carefully. He slowly ran the small handheld input sensor up and down the length of the man's torso and quickly confirmed his suspicions on the tricorder's small screen. "I'm detecting some mild gene sequence degradation at the cellular level along with a barely noticeable genetic drift. Aside from that your DNA is identical to the original Sloan… the man who intentionally poisoned himself in my Infirmary back on Deep Space Nine." Bashir looked him straight in the eyes. "You're a clone of the original, aren't you?"
Sloan very slowly clapped his hands together in a mockery of applause. "Very good Dr. Bashir – no one can deny that you're one of the best physicians in Starfleet and one hell of a moral guy." The smirk returned to his face. "The Breen took a lot from the Cardassian Union and the demilitarized zone at the end of the recent war, but they didn't get the Dominion cloning facilities. Most of them were destroyed, but my people captured one of them intact."
Bashir frowned. "I've been expecting a visit from one of your Section 31 comrades," he said truthfully. "The original version of you seemed convinced that I would enjoy helping you during times of crisis… perhaps even leap at the attempt to join Starfleet's infamous super secret intelligence gathering organization."
"You definitely like to play secret agent in those holo-suites back on Deep Space Nine," Sloan said with yet another condescending smile. "My friends and I at Section 31 just wanted to give you the opportunity to play that role for real, and help the Federation at the same time."
"What do you want Sloan?" Bashir demanded with a hint of scorn in his voice. "Why are you here? Up until a few hours ago, the Defiant wasn't even officially part of the fleet preparing to attack the Dark Nebula project. So what can I possibly do for you?"
Sloan held up his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "I won't burden you with our usual debate about ethics, morality or the dangers that you repeatedly claim are created by an organization within Starfleet that conducts its covert operations without boundaries. I simply stopped by to give you this." He took a lengthy metallic pen-shaped cylinder out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Bashir.
"And just what is this?" the Doctor asked him, examining the silver container carefully.
"That is a trilithium compound that can easily be added to the warhead of a standard photon torpedo," Sloan replied without a hint of emotion. "Please give it to Captain Picard with my compliments, and include my strong recommendation that he use it to torpedo the DNX-920 sun and effectively kill off everything in that system. Once the orbiting planets have been destroyed by the shock wave from the dying star, I think you'll find that the Breen and the reptilians will give you no further trouble."
"Are you completely insane?" Bashir asked him. "Seriously… what in the world would make you think that the Captain would even remotely consider such an environmental travesty? I'll give it to him all right, so he can take this illegal compound back to Starfleet where they'll lock it away someplace safe."
"That small amount of trilithium will save lives Doctor. Lots of them," Sloan insisted, pointing at the small metal cylinder that Bashir still held. "Our enemies in this matter have stepped over the line and they deserve no mercy. I don't think any of our people should have to die for actions that they freely chose as part of their plan to conquer us." He frowned with disappointment. "I know my original self has never been able to convince you how necessary it is to break the law sometimes in order to enforce it, so I'll just leave now before we begin one of those endless debates again."
As Sloan was speaking, Bashir thumbed a coded sequence into his medical tricorder and activated a preset program. He had positioned himself by the room's only exit and watched with satisfaction as a sparkling blue forcefield popped into existence between him and the back wall of the room. Sloan was effectively trapped by the bed next to the unconscious prisoner.
"You're not leaving just yet," the Doctor told him with anger.
"Oh really Dr. Bashir," Sloan said, sounding extremely disappointed. "You don't seriously think that I'm going to let you trap me again do you? I think I've learned enough about you and your engineering friends to be ready for any move you might make."
"Things have changed for Section 31," said Bashir with a grin. "You may not have gotten the memo yet, but you're not nearly as superior as you think you are."
"Just give Picard the trilithium and tell him I strongly suggest that he use it," Sloan said with a hint of boredom in his voice. "I won't burden you with anything else this time." He touched a mechanism attached to his left forearm and the Dominion transporter energy swirled around his body and dissolved him away…
…to almost instantly reappear in a small room with metallic walls that looked completely unfamiliar to him. Reacting with surprise, Sloan grabbed the device on his arm and began tapping in a series of emergency commands. The device barked a series of electronic chatter at him but otherwise was completely non-responsive to his urgent attempts to reactivate it.
"What's the matter Sloan," said Kathryn Janeway from behind him. "Isn't your super-secret equipment working properly? Perhaps we could have one of our engineering officers take a look at it for you to make certain there's been no malfunction…"
Sloan whirled around with angry surprise. He was in someone's brig, trapped behind a force field… that much was immediately obvious. Standing in front of him was Admiral Janeway and right next to her was Captain Jean Luc Picard. Both of them had their arms folded in front of them and the confident smiles on their faces gave him more cause for concern than anyone or anything he had encountered in a long time.
"You heard everything I said to Julian didn't you?" he snarled, stepping forward and pausing just short of touching the shimmering force field. "How did you arrange this?"
"I spent much of my recent past in the delta quadrant, so I'll let Jean Luc explain it to you," Janeway said with a smirk, walking back toward the security guard supervising the control console on the far side of the brig. "You're dismissed Ensign," she said. "I'll take over and we'll call for you when we're done here."
"Aye Admiral," the young woman said, setting the controls on standby and walking out of the cavernous room and into the starship corridor outside.
"Welcome to the Enterprise Mr. Sloan," Picard said with a tinge of sarcasm. "I know your visit here is somewhat unscheduled, but since you've already taken the opportunity to speak with people on three of the ships in this fleet the Admiral and I thought that perhaps you'd like to visit with us directly." He paced slowly back and forth in front of Sloan's cell with his hands at his sides. "After all, it would be most unfortunate if anything of urgent concern to the survival of the Federation got caught up in the usual red tape, wouldn't it?"
"Do you know who I am?" Sloan asked, his tone completely condescending.
"Yes I do. Your name is Sloan and you are the man in charge of Section 31, a super-secret branch of Starfleet that supposedly answers to no one." Picard continued pacing in front of the cell and then paused, glancing defiantly at the man confined within. "You do whatever it takes to enforce Federation security and are bound by no laws. Well I'm here to tell you Mr. Sloan that as of this moment that mission statement has been irrevocably changed… Section 31 now answers directly to Starfleet, and we report to the Federation Council."
"Really," Sloan said with an angry outburst of contempt. "I can make you disappear, Captain. I can make you vanish from Starfleet permanently, and that is a threat."
Picard's response was an extremely well-timed, dramatic pause. Finally he pointed at the device on Sloan's forearm and raised an eyebrow. "I think you will find, sir, that the tables have been turned. If you don't believe me then why don't you go ahead and use your device to transport away from here." He watched Sloan's confidence waver as the man's thoughts returned to the ineffectiveness of his armband and his unexpected arrival in the Enterprise brig. "You see," Picard continued, "We Captains in Starfleet are extremely sick and tired of your Section 31 thugs beaming onto our starships without permission and otherwise corrupting our officers and crew. If you do not cooperate fully with my orders now and in the future then I guarantee you the next location that you materialize in will be deep space. And that is also a threat, Mr. Sloan."
"You have no knowledge of my organization," he said hotly to Picard. "Most of it exists only in the minds of the people who are responsible for executing its objectives."
"Then it should be extremely important to you that you and your operatives don't begin… disappearing," Picard said emphatically. "We know more about you than you think we do. Ever since you first compromised the security of Deep Space Nine during the Dominion war, Captains like me have been working very hard to learn everything possible about Section 31 and its personnel. We know the identity of each and every one of you, and to counter the threat you represent all Starfleet Captains have created an unofficial 'club' to insure that you do not act in the future without first advising us of any intelligence data you gather. You will contact one or more of us directly… not our junior officers. And you are expressly forbidden to take any offensive action against a perceived enemy without our direct authorization to do so."
"Since I first compromised the security of Deep Space Nine?" Sloan shouted, his anger boiling over. "We were saving the entire alpha quadrant, or have you forgotten about that?" He shot an angry look past Picard at Admiral Janeway, who was busying herself in the background by nonchalantly studying the security console in front of her. "How does Starfleet's Admiralty feel about this new Captain's club?" Hearing the mocking tone of his words she glanced up at Sloan with a look that sent an unexpected stab of uncertainty bursting through him.
"Most of the members of the Starfleet Admiralty used to be starship Captains in case you've forgotten," she said with a tone in her voice that caught and held his attention. "We're honorary members, since part of our job is to make certain that good commanders like Jean Luc have our complete support. It helps keep morale at a peak, you see. Particularly during those times of crisis when we are forced to ask them to trust us and risk their lives and the lives of their crews based upon instructions presented to them from a command structure that is often times dozens of light years distant."
"This is outrageous!" Sloan insisted, shaking his head with total disagreement. "Without us Starfleet would have fallen to its enemies centuries ago…"
"That statement is absolute garbage and you know it!" Picard shouted back at him. "With you the Founders were on the verge of extermination! The Federation, with all of the elegantly worded virtues contained within its charter, almost became guilty of genocide." Picard stood directly in front of Sloan's cell with only the force field barrier separating them and stared him down. "That Doctor on board the Defiant and the Captain who supported him deserve our most profound gratitude, not you. They didn't give in to the temptation to do evil under the false pretense of preventing evil. That crew preserved the vitality of our culture and persevered where you and your so-called Section 31 operatives had already given up."
"You are so unenlightened on this matter Captain," Sloan said softly, trying to regroup and counter Picard's argument. "You simply have no idea what we are…"
"I know precisely what you are," Picard told him. "After all, you smugly walk around the galaxy telling everyone – you are people who answer to no one. And like all people with absolute power you have been corrupted absolutely." His face turned red as his anger suddenly returned. "You are little tin gods who sit in dark rooms making secret plans and have convinced yourself that you represent the intelligentsia of the universe. None of you have commanded a starship yourselves or had to write letters to the relatives of crewmembers killed in the line of duty, yet you can out guess an Admiral or preach tactical strategy to Captains." Picard's latest burst of anger reached a ferocity that was unequaled save for the rage he had felt during the aftermath of the first Borg crisis. "You don't defeat the enemy by becoming the enemy!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "And you, sir, and your companions have become the enemy!"
"We know up front that people will hate us," countered Sloan. "That's part of my job. One of the disadvantages of doing the things that no one else wants to do or that others consider to be immoral is that we are hated for it. And that hatred, Captain, allows people like you to feel better about yourselves because you don't have to make those decisions and live with the consequences. You get to sit back in that command seat on your bridge and simply hate us!"
Picard paused to let his rage subside. He took several deep breaths and the anger quickly faded from his face as he slowly walked toward the rear of the room and stood next to Admiral Janeway. She nodded with approval and handed him an electronic data pad, which he glanced at briefly and then returned to stand in front of Sloan's cell.
"Again you speak in half truths sir. I happen to be one of the unlucky Captains who has been repeatedly forced these past years to clean up the consequences of your actions and risk my own life and career as a Starfleet officer in order to do it. Unfortunately, there are others listed here who have not been as lucky as I have."
"What are you talking about Picard?" Sloan screamed at the top of his lungs.
"I'm talking about the birth of the Maquis," the Captain replied calmly. "During that time, Benjamin Sisko and his allies managed to catch the Cardassian military red-handed supplying weapons to its colonists in the demilitarized zone. Yet somehow despite Starfleet's commitment to non-involvement in the matter someone was also supplying ships and weapons to the Federation colonists. You are nothing but a contemptible gun-runner sir."
"Should we have let those people die? Are you saying you haven't supplied weapons…?"
"I'm talking about Admiral Kennelly," the Captain interrupted. "A Starfleet Admiral who was directly influenced by Section 31 to conspire with Cardassian Guls and allow them an opportunity to assassinate Bajorans labeled by said Cardassians as terrorists." He glared at Sloan with renewed emotion in his expression. "I'm talking about Captain Benjamin Maxwell, a starship commander who carried deep emotional baggage with him for years after the Federation's first war with the Cardassians. It didn't take a lot of convincing by your operatives – one of whom was masquerading as a member of his crew – to wage psychological warfare against him. You used his personal pain over the loss of his family to persuade Maxwell into ordering an unprovoked attack inside Cardassian borders in a blatant attempt to prove that they were re-arming for a new war. Both Kennelly and Maxwell have been forced into very different career paths since they encountered your operatives from Section 31."
"You can't blame those incidents totally on us," Sloan said defensively. "We…"
"I'm talking about Admiral Pressman," Picard said, interrupting him once again. "On two separate occasions members of Section 31 convinced him to experiment with the development of Federation cloaking technology despite the fact that such actions are expressly prohibited by treaty agreements signed in good faith by the Federation Council. The second of these incidents involving the starship Pegasus also implicated my first officer Commander Riker, as well as one Admiral Blackwell. These are three more people whose lives and careers have never been the same since their encounter with you."
"Now who's not telling the entire truth?" Sloan asked him, boiling over with anger of his own. "Your android second officer and the Defiant both used cloaking technology in order to rescue your Dark Nebula team."
"Not without my express permission to do so," Picard pointed out. "And since Data is my officer and I am the Captain of this ship I have the authority to break the rules when I see fit, whereas your authority to do so comes from… nowhere."
"So you bend and break the rules like I do, but in your case it's justified and in mine it's not?" Sloan's laugh was utterly condescending. His effort to mock Picard was cut short as Janeway suddenly appeared next to the Captain and caught his eyes with her own.
"Picard is Captain of the Federation flagship and he is granted military authority to make those tough calls by the Federation charter," the Admiral said defiantly to Sloan. "His actions are constantly reviewed by Starfleet Internal Affairs – an objective board comprised of our finest people whom you have been caught trying to impersonate on numerous occasions. Picard has also risked court martial many times in order to carry out the missions assigned to him by Starfleet's Admiralty." She locked her gaze on him with a decent amount of her own scorn. "During this time you have been under no such scrutiny." She casually waved a hand at the Captain. "Please continue Jean Luc, I don't think he gets it yet…"
The Captain glanced down once again at the data pad in his hands. "Section 31's most recent project – a plan to relocate 600 Ba'ku citizens so that Son'a technology could be used to rob the Ba'ku home planet of its natural resources has had permanent consequences for one Admiral Dougherty, who is regrettably deceased." He angrily threw the data pad away from him and it clattered loudly against the wall at the far end of the room before dropping out of sight to the dimly lit floor below. "The first question that Commander Riker asked when he learned of the Federation's involvement with the Son'a people was why the hell we would work with them. Well Mr. Sloan I would like to now pose that same question to you. Why were we involved with those butchers?"
"They had the technology already available to harvest that planet's resources for the benefit of medical breakthroughs that would impact the entire galaxy. It would have taken Starfleet years with its multiple irons in the fire to reach that same objective. Particularly during the aftermath of the Dominion war it was of extreme importance to find faster and more efficient ways to heal injuries." Sloan was noticeably rattled, and he moved to the rear of the small cell and sat down as he struggled unsuccessfully to regain his composure. "You're twisting the truth…"
"I'm stating the truth!" disagreed Picard. "Using cold hard, provable facts I'm stating the truth and you're not exactly arguing your side of this debate very successfully." He once again began a slow pace back and forth in front of the cell. "It's interesting to me that you bring up the Dominion, particularly when Section 31 considered them such a massive threat to Federation security that the Founders who led them had to be wiped out as a race. Your scientists even created a genetic disease designed specifically to do so."
"You don't think they were a threat?" he snarled in reply, his composure notably breaking down further and further as the conversation progressed.
"They were a threat yes! Now that alternatives to your recommendation have been carried out the Founders are a new and growing ally! But let's take a closer look at you personally Mr. Sloan," decided Picard. "You'll forgive me if I continue to call you Mister, but your organization is so secret you can't even tell people your real name. If I'm not mistaken you are a clone of the original man known as Sloan, created with stolen Dominion technology. Additionally, you have spent most of this evening using one of their long range transporters to beam on and off several of the starships in this fleet. Haven't you become the enemy you were so determined to wipe out? Aren't you using the same types of tactics that are so deplorable when the Founders or the Breen wield them?" He waved a hand angrily at Sloan's electronic armband. "You certainly behave like the Vorta used to."
"I… don't quite know how to respond to that," Sloan said after a long pause. He sighed heavily from his seated position and slowly rubbed his forehead with his right hand. "Our efforts have been aimed at preserving everything that we've worked so hard for centuries to build."
"That is not your job sir, it is mine!" the Captain stated fiercely as he pointed at Admiral Janeway. "And it is also hers! We are vested with the authority to protect the Federation, and maintaining its security is our job and most certainly not yours."
Sloan sat there with a grim-faced expression for a moment and then cast an exhausted gaze toward the two people standing on the other side of the force field. "What would you have me do?" he asked wanly. "Section 31 is as old as Starfleet itself."
"Your options are two," Picard replied without the slightest bit of hesitation. "We have been gathering data on your network for years and decided that you will either work directly for Starfleet or you will disband. There is no other choice on this matter."
"Me work for you?" Sloan said, his massive ego evident in the disgust he showed.
"That's right," the Captain told him. "What's the matter Sloan? Wouldn't you make the same decision in all of these instances I've mentioned if it meant that the consequences might include a court martial? Wouldn't you make those same choices to protect the Federation if you had to answer for them this time rather than simply slinking off to your next project and leaving the mess you make for other people to clean up?"
"It's very obvious to me that you have as much idealism as the good Doctor Bashir," Sloan decided as he continued to flinch each time the Captain sternly dressed him down. "In theory it's a wonderful thing to have, but in actual practice I'm afraid it falls a little short…"
"In actual practice it has worked for Admirals, Commodores, and starship Captains alike for over two centuries," Picard yelled at him, forcing the man to fall silent again. "It has worked and it has worked well… despite your continued interference in virtually every major crisis the Federation has faced. I've given you your two options Sloan – come out of the shadows and register your people with Starfleet and begin following the same rules as we do or disband Section 31 completely. Those are your choices… this matter is closed."
"Not quite yet it isn't, Jean Luc," Janeway said, holding up one hand for emphasis. "Earlier in our conversation I directly witnessed you threatening Captain Picard with physical harm. I feel it only fair to advise you that this entire conversation – along with many of the other covert discussions you've had with Starfleet personnel – have been recorded and stored in our archives. We've got quite a list of evidence against your organization assembled and are prepared to make it public if we need to. One word from me or anyone else in authority and you're going to need a lot of lawyers." She studied his reaction carefully. "Many of my predecessors tolerated you and at times even unofficially cooperated with your efforts. That is now in the past."
"Again, I don't quite know how to respond to that," Sloan repeated with futility.
"Then don't – but consider this. Captain Picard has already mentioned the death of Admiral Dougherty and he is not the only casualty on our list. If we discover at any point in the future, by accident or design, that harm has come to a member of Starfleet or a Federation citizen due to unauthorized activity by your organization the consequences you suffer will be severe." She paused and Sloan looked at her with a beaten expression in his eyes. "It should be obvious to you since you're here that the operative on the other end of your transporter is either working for us or we've bypassed his system. We're not telling you how many of your people have changed sides, but if you reject Captain Picard's offer or try to harm him or anyone else, I guarantee that you and anyone else involved will all be dead within 24 hours. That's my promise to you, and my guarantee to Picard that he is backed by the Admiralty and Starfleet Command that he serves."
Janeway turned around and walked back over to the security console near the room's only exit. She deactivated the force field on Sloan's cell and watched him simply sit there, uncertain of what to do next. They let him think about their conversation for a moment as he took a good hard look at himself before the Admiral finally nodded to Picard.
"Get off my ship and out of this fleet," the Captain ordered. "Go back to your not so secret society, and take a good long look around as you learn for the first time what it's like to be among people whom you can't totally trust. The experience should serve to enlighten you, but your own morals are so jaded from all those years of convincing yourself that you're a god amongst us mere mortals that I seriously doubt it will."
Sloan rose to his feet without another word and touched the keypad on his forearm. Vertical bands of bluish-green transporter energy immediately seized him and he promptly vanished from the Enterprise brig as quickly as he had arrived.
It was usually very quiet during the night shift aboard Deep Space Nine and – since he did not require sleep – Odo decided to take advantage of the solitude as well as a quick tour of his old stomping grounds. The time he had spent in the gamma quadrant had dramatically changed him and it had taken him longer than he would have expected after leaving the other changelings on his home world to regain the composure and mindset needed for life as a solid. While linked with the other shape shifters his own individual personality became very hard to retain as it tended to blend together with the vast number of others connected with him.
That had actually worked toward the Federation's advantage as his shared memories had given the Founders a rare glimpse into the daily lives of the solids as well as their extreme emotions. Having access to the kind and compassionate memories that Odo shared with his friends on the space station had significantly helped them overcome their long-term prejudices much faster than would have been possible with verbal debate alone. Their previous mindset that all solids were their enemy had existed for centuries and was wiped almost completely away in less than an hour's time. They still didn't completely trust many of the solid species, but Odo was quite satisfied that their agenda no longer included pure racial hatred for every solid they met.
During his years as DS9's Constable and head of security, Odo had personally witnessed the horrified reactions of the station's personnel as they discovered one after another the terrible, hideous things that the Dominion had done to planets and races who dared oppose their military dictatorship in the gamma quadrant. For example, suddenly having access to Odo's firsthand knowledge of Julian Bashir's anger regarding the Quickening plague had shocked them to their very core. Emotions were normally much more difficult for them to process, and from the Founders' perspective they had merely deployed the virus to take revenge against a prosperous society that was fighting for its independence. Suddenly exposed to Odo's memories of Bashir's horrified reactions to the death and destruction their retaliation had caused was a true eye opener for them as to just how cruel and heartless they were perceived as by the solids.
Also notable to them was the Federation Council's shock regarding their cavalier attitude toward sentient living beings, particularly their process of cloning Vorta and Jem'Hadar and additionally addicting the latter to Ketrocel White. The inhumanity of this form of slavery was also another inhumane tactic that they quickly realized had caused the solids to fear them all the more. The realization that many races not only had the courage to stand up to their bully mentality – and also how their own actions had actually caused much of the hatred and rage that they claimed had been directed at them – was a stark wake up call. How they were perceived in the eyes of others had never mattered before, but this suddenly became a very important issue for them upon Odo's return… particularly when they learned that for a time even the laid back, well-mannered Constable had hated his own people and what they stood for.
Odo continued to digest the massive amounts of new information from his recent link with his people as he took a private tour of the Promenade. He could begin to feel the individual within him return as he noted with satisfaction that Garak's old tailor shop was now a Cardassian restaurant. He felt that it was a nice homage to the Cardassian people and an excellent peace offering by the Bajoran society continuing to govern the station with Federation assistance. All of the shops were closed for the night and the entire Promenade was pretty much empty aside from a few security guards scattered throughout the area. Feeling a bit nostalgic now that he was holding solid form for much of the day again, Odo walked over to his old security office and found himself smiling a bit as he looked inside and remembered his time here.
"Thinking about coming back to us Odo?" asked a familiar voice from behind him.
A bit embarrassed by the unexpected interruption of his private time, Odo spun and glared at the short man standing behind him. "Fortunately for you Quark, no." He watched the Ferengi bartender casually polishing a glass with a clean white cloth and snorted with amusement. "What are you doing up this early, counting your latinum?"
"Just making sure everything is all clean and tidy for tomorrow," Quark replied with a smug grin. "Business is booming now that the war is over."
Odo snorted a second time. "You were counting your latinum, weren't you?"
"Someone's got to track the profits and keep them growing," agreed Quark. "My brother's new tax rates to help females move into the working world are far too high. I'll have to make sure and point that out to him the next time I'm home for a visit."
"How are Rom and his wife Leeta? They're well I hope."
"Yes."
"And your cousin Gaila… how is he?"
"He's as cantankerous as ever," Quark said as he glared at Odo. "Aren't you going to ask me how I'm doing?" he wondered, watching Odo's reaction carefully.
"I know how you're doing – you were up early counting your pile of latinum," replied Odo smugly, harrumphing at the large-eared alien with his usual irritation.
"Well, it would be nice if you asked," decided Quark as he tried to sound hurt.
Odo ignored the Ferengi's comment and pointed to the empty security office in front of them. "Isn't someone supposed to be on duty in there at all times?" he asked with a hint of suspicion in his voice. "That's the way Starfleet wanted things done when I was here, and I doubt that the policy has changed much since I left."
"Ensign Baker usually covers the night shift, but he probably left to go and get a cup of raktajino," Quark said nonchalantly, pointing over his shoulder. "Who cares, anyway? There are at least three Starfleet guards stationed throughout the Promenade 26 hours per day. Good luck pulling off any shady deals around this place. And now that you mention it, nothing really has changed much since you left Odo."
"I care," Odo told him as he extended his right arm out in front of him. The changeling's arm morphed into a reddish-orange substance that quickly melted and spread against the entrance to the security office. Finding the crevice in the center of the two doors, Odo's entire body dissolved into a gelatinous state and quickly oozed through the seam and inside the office. The changeling fluid moved slowly across the floor to a spot right in front of the desk and then flowed vertically upright and converted back into the familiar humanoid form.
Quark pointed an accusing finger at his old nemesis as Odo touched a pad on the wall and opened the office doors. "That's breaking and entering!" the Ferengi pointed out. "Or… flowing and entering… call it whatever you want but you're not in charge of security here any longer."
"I should be," Odo decided, glancing carefully at the security consoles on the room's central desk. "Tell me," he said firmly as he glanced up at Quark, "Just who is in charge of security on Deep Space Nine these days?"
"Lieutenant-Commander Rodriguez," the Ferengi said off-handedly. "But you'd better have a good reason for waking him in the middle of the night…"
Odo tapped the Bajoran communicator that General Kira had given to him for the duration of the peace conference. "Odo to Commander Rodriguez," he said with his firm, mostly emotionless tone. "Odo to Rodriguez, please respond."
Quark watched the changeling uncomfortably and there was a brief pause. "Rodriguez here," was the eventual reply. "What can I do for you so early in the morning, Odo?"
"I think you'd better come down here to the security office on the double," Odo replied. "The Ensign you have assigned to the night shift is nowhere to be found, and I've just confirmed that all security systems in the habitat ring have been temporarily disabled."
"I'll be right there," replied Rodriguez with an urgent note of concern.
Shortly before going off-shift the prior evening, Commander Patrick Hazelton had received word that the Defiant would be delayed in its return to Deep Space Nine. General Kira had sent him a subspace message to let him know that she planned to join Captain Picard's fleet of ships and assist with his planned confrontation with the Breen. The enemy was still occupying the Dark Nebula, and it was blatantly obvious to the Commander that something major was in the works. Since Hazelton was used to being in command of the station during the times when General Kira was on Bajor, the news didn't exactly catch him by surprise. He had simply taken care of the necessary Administrative duties in his office, double-checked Ops and then returned to his quarters to get some well deserved rest.
There were still a lot of representatives from various cultures sticking around for the planned conclusion of the peace conference. The closing ceremony had been postponed for a couple of days after it became obvious to General Kira that Picard was going to need some extra help from the DS9 crew as well as the Defiant to assist in tracking down his missing officers. Each day was a busy one, and Hazelton was extremely grateful that the Promenade was once again filled with flourishing businesses, since it gave many of the delegates something to do – along with the opportunity to spend most of their time shopping or gambling. Keeping the station secure and organized during the conference was one of his responsibilities, so he certainly didn't need a lot of bored Ambassadors wandering idly around the key areas of the station.
He alertly woke up very early in the new morning with the knowledge that something odd was going on. He had heard a soft rustling movement from across the room and he slowly opened his eyes with a fog of sleepiness still wrapped around his mind. Preparing to dismiss the noise as part of a random dream he began to fall back asleep when he suddenly heard the door to his quarters slide shut. That new sound was more obvious and brought him fully awake since he vividly remembered locking the door shortly before settling down for the night. He suddenly realized that the sound of the door opening was probably what had initially awakened him, after which the rustling sound had then caught his attention. Without a hint of movement he laid on his side in bed, eyes scanning the room carefully for any sign of movement.
From out of the darkness, a shadowy figure suddenly lunged at him and he moved quickly, diving off of the bed and rolling across the floor and out of the way. He tripped the assailant and heard a frustrated grunt, and as the dark shadow of a man fell against the side of his bed Hazelton punched him hard in the kidney area. In the room's dim night lighting he saw what looked like a hypo spray fall to the floor and he stared at it in complete shock, distracted just long enough for the intruder to kick backward and catch him full in the stomach. Gasping in pain he fell to his knees as whoever it was spun quickly and punched him in the face.
Hazelton lashed out with his forearm and heard another grunt of surprise, but something heavy struck him hard on the head and a flash of pain burst through his still groggy consciousness. Standing quickly upright, he swung his right arm again and punched the attacker hard. He tried to follow up the attack with another left jab but the attack was blocked, and again something hard hit the side of his head. Dizzy from the two blows to his skull, Commander Hazelton toppled over backwards and landed flat on his back. He could hear the intruder scrambling in the background and struggled to shake off the pain in his head.
Before he could react, the hypo spray hissed against his arm and the dizziness he felt instantly increased. He felt his muscles go numb and, trying to stand up to continue the fight, he fell back onto the floor and was unable to move. Too late he tried to call out for help and discovered that the drug he had been injected with was affecting his speech as well. He could still feel the pain from the blows he had received and suddenly hard metal pressed coldly against his forehead. Fear reared its ugly head inside of him and threatened to dominate his emotions as he felt something sharp eject from the metal and pierce the flesh in his forehead.
Again he heard the sound of the door to his quarters opening, then loud shouts from the outside corridor. The lights in the room returned to full illumination and he glanced up with surprise at the image of Ensign Baker standing above him with a completely emotionless expression on his face. Baker's deadpan demeanor quickly turned to one of outrage as he looked hurriedly toward the door. He reached out toward the device on Hazelton's forehead but an orange blast from a Federation-issue hand phaser caught him full in the chest and threw him backwards onto the bed. From his awkward position on the floor, Hazelton could see Baker slowly trying to stand up as a second phaser shot caught him full in the abdomen.
"What's… going on?" the Commander asked woozily as his chief of security, Carl Rodriguez helped him slowly to his feet. He felt the metal pressing against his forehead disappear and he glanced around the room at Rodriguez and the three security guards standing next to him. Odo had twisted Baker's arms behind his back and was holding the stunned Ensign helpless. Beside them on the bed were the hypo spray and an extremely strange-looking mechanical device that was shaped like a cortical stimulator. "What… happened?" asked Hazelton again.
"We're not exactly sure yet Commander," Rodriguez told him. "But I assure you we're going to find out. Ambassador Odo noticed that Ensign Baker mysteriously left his post at the security station and called me. He also pointed out that our monitoring systems in the habitat ring were disabled, so we checked further and the computer verified that the lock specific to your quarters had also been deactivated, all with Baker's security code. That pointed us in the right direction and it looks like we got here just in time." He glanced at the groggy Baker with anger. "The Ensign also has a subroutine planted in the security computer which he was planning to use to erase the security log as soon as he returned from his attack on you."
Hazelton took a deep breath and looked gratefully at Odo. "Thank you," he said gratefully as the dizziness and nausea continued to slowly subside. "You have my gratitude, Ambassador. I don't know what he injected me with or what his motive is for this attack on me, but I think it's probably got something to do with the Breen situation."
"Quite certainly it also has something to do with this," Odo suggested, handing him the small metal device.
It was a metallic rectangle approximately twelve centimeters by five with a smaller, angled rectangle attached to both its shorter left and right sides. He could see a nasty looking needle projecting out from the central area of the device, no doubt what had pierced his skin and caused the pain he felt. Tiny red lights on both sides of the center rectangle blinked steadily, so it was obvious that the mechanism had its own internal power source.
At the sight of the sinister device a burst of emotion caused the dizziness to return again. "Okay I need a little help," the Commander decided suddenly, and Rodriguez hastily grabbed him again and helped to steady him. "This is certainly no way to wake up in the morning!"
"I think you should come down to the Infirmary with us sir," the security chief suggested. "We don't know yet what he used that hypo spray to inject you with, and you have several large bruises and some blood on your forehead."
"That will be fine with me," the Commander decided, still feeling a bit unsteady. "Please assign someone to examine that device immediately, and have Ensign Baker confined to the brig so we can interrogate him."
"If you'll allow me to, I'd like to assist with the prisoner," Odo offered. "It's been awhile since I've been to Deep Space Nine's brig, but I've got a lot of experience questioning suspects."
"Be my guest," Rodriguez decided, nodding to his three security people. "Please accompany Mr. Odo and throw Ensign Baker here into a cell. I'll take the Commander to the Infirmary and assign someone to begin looking at this… thing." He took the device from Hazelton with extreme curiosity and examined it closely, trying to fathom just what it was that would motivate an up-and-coming Starfleet officer like Baker to attack his Commander in the middle of the night.