Author's Note: The story is set near the end of the sixth season. Dax is Jadzia Dax, by the way.
Disclaimer: Paramount own Star Trek and everything legally associated with it. I own any original characters, situations, or locations. I am not making any money off of this.
1
Julian Bashir awoke to the sound of someone crying. With a groan, he rubbed his eyes, shifting onto his back in his bed.
"Want me to get her?", Dax mumbled, half asleep, from beside him.
"No," Bashir muttered, "It's my turn."
He dragged himself from under the covers, blinking blearily, and stumbled into the next room.
"Computer, lights on seven percent."
They had found that was just enough lighting to see by, without being too much to startle the baby. With a sigh, Bashir looked down into the crib at the tiny, bawling figure.
"All right," he said softly. "It's all right."
He reached in to scoop Renzia up carefully and felt a moment's disorientation. How strange it was, even after six weeks. It still felt so alien, as if this couldn't possibly be his real life. But her crying was enough to prove to him this was real. Carrying her carefully in one arm, Bashir went to warm up a bottle in the replicator, then sank onto the couch. Renzia stopped bawling as soon as she realized she was being fed, and began to suck down the milk happily, her tiny face relaxing from its red, scrunched up rage. Bashir jiggled her gently as she drank, watching her. Her eyes began to close again, but he refused to let her fall asleep until she was finished. He knew she couldn't be entirely happy with that, but was distracted enough right now not to start crying again.
Already everyone said she looked like Dax. She had the dark hair and blue eyes, but her eyes were wide, like Bashir's. She also had Trill markings, although they were somewhat lighter than Dax's.
It had taken them a very long time to finally come to the decision to have children. Bashir hadn't wanted to in medical school of course, and then had come the seemingly endless consideration about having a child who was half-Trill. Would she be able to become a host? There was no way of guaranteeing that her genetics would support that, aside from genetic engineering, which was, of course, illegal in the Federation. It would be up to chance. Would she care? They had met and talked to many half-Trill, some of them who had no desire to be joined whatsoever, some who were in the initiate program. Bashir and Dax had noticed that half-human, half-Trill individuals tended not to want to be joined; something about the human side wanted to retain the individuality. All the half-Vulcans, half-Trill they met were unjoined, but it had not been much of a surprise to Dax. Bashir had understood when one of them had explained to him that a symbiont would carry too much emotions from past lives to make any half-Vulcan comfortable.
They had talked about not having children at all, or adopting. Certainly there would children out there in need of a good home, and they could provide that. Adoption still wasn't out of the question. They had decided early on if they were going to have children, they would have more than one. Dax had sisters, and Bashir was an only child. He knew how lonely it could be. Especially when one's parents couldn't be around.
In the end, they had decided to take the chance and have a child of their own. A chance it had been. Hybrid pregnancies with a joined Trill as the mother were risky, and Dax had made it very clear that the only reason she wasn't insisting they return to Trill was because Bashir was such a good doctor. Despite their concerns, the pregnancy had gone smoothly, as smoothly as any pregnancy could go, and Dax had given birth to a very healthy girl.
Who was now asleep again, the bottle finished.
Bashir pushed himself to his feet and padded back into the bedroom, put Renzia down on her back and covering her with a light blanket. He tiptoed back into his own bedroom and settled down under the covers. Dax's breathing told him she was fast asleep; that was definitely something that had come with the symbiont. Before, she woke up almost every time he rolled over.
He closed his eyes and was asleep within moments.
"Wake up, sleepy," a voice said in his ear and he felt a hand rubbing his upper arm.
"Mmm," he sighed, rolling onto his back, opening his eyes. Dax was smiling at him.
"What time is it?" he murmured.
"Oh-six-thirty."
"And Renzi's still asleep?", he asked, propping himself on his elbows.
"Yes, but probably not for long. You'd better get up. I have duty in the lab in half an hour. And you promised to meet Miles for breakfast at oh-seven-thirty."
"I remember," Bashir assured her.
"I know you do. Nothing escapes that brain of yours."
He grinned at her.
"Not even how much I love you," he said.
Dax shook her head, but she was smiling , her blue eyes lit up.
"You're such a charmer, Jules."
"I do try," he said, then kissed her softly. Dax returned the kiss, grinning into it.
From the other room came a small sound.
"I'll get her; I'm already up," Dax said, pushing herself to her feet from where she had been crouching beside the bed. She was already dressed and ready for her duty shift. Bashir lay back down on his pillow, listening to the sounds in the next room. He wanted to go back to sleep, but Dax was right; he was meeting O'Brien for breakfast. With a sigh, he forced himself up and pulled his uniform from the closet. He didn't have duty until that afternoon; both he and Dax were working partial shifts right now. Sisko had offered them complete leave for as long as they wanted, but they both knew that neither of them would know what to do after a few weeks. They had taken the first two weeks off altogether, but one of the bonuses of living on a space station was that it was very easy to get around. If Dax needed him, or he her, it wasn't hard for either of them to get home. Besides, Bashir knew it wouldn't be far to ask Tarses to take on all responsibility for the medical duties on the station.
He pulled the green mock-turtleneck shirt over his head, then slipped on the uniform jacket. Bashir really approved of these new uniforms. The jackets were black, with a thin coloured stripe that came across the shoulder then deflected straight down to the waist. The stripe colours, of course, matched the mock turtleneck and differed by job type. The rank pips were on the collar of the jacket, not the shirt, and the jacket was worn partially open. Starfleet had really outdone itself in comfort this time, too.
Dax came back in, in her blue and black science uniform.
"Here," she said, shifting the baby into his arms. "I need to get going. I'll see you at lunch."
"Right," Bashir said, kissing her quickly on the lips. "Have a good day."
"I will. Love you."
"I love you, too," he replied easily. She smiled, then bent down to give their daughter a swift kiss on the forehead. Bashir picked up his daughter's small hand and waved it at Dax, who laughed and hurried out the door.
"All right, baby," Bashir said, settling his daughter on his bed and surrounding her with pillows, to keep her in one place. "Daddy needs to shave. Here."
He gave her a soft, plastic toy that Kira had given them when Renzia had been born. Immediately, the baby stuck it into her mouth, then lost her grip on it. Bashir put it back into her hands; she was too young to be able to hold onto it for long, though. It took him awhile to shave because of that fact; Renzia didn't like being alone and didn't like being bored. And she was bored as soon as she was alone and had lost her grip on her toy. In the end, he was late, but he arrived to find that Commander Kira and Kai Bareil had joined Commander O'Brien.
"Kai Bareil!", Bashir said in surprise as he approached the table. "I didn't think you'd be arriving for two more days! Good morning, Miles, good morning, Nerys."
The two Starfleet officers returned the greeting and the kai smiled his gentle, peaceful smile. It was astounding to Bashir that someone could be so composed all of the time.
"Neither did I," Bareil admitted. "But some appointments were moved up, and I was able to get away early." He had Kira's hand in his, and squeezed it as he spoke. The commander was grinning, her entire face alight. Bashir couldn't imagine how they made it work; if he had as little time to spend with Dax as Kira and Bareil did with each other, he'd go insane.
"So this is Terok Nor's newest resident," the kai continued.
Bashir grinned as he sat down, shifting Renzia in his arms.
"For the time being. Would you like to hold her?"
"If it's all right with you," Bareil replied.
"I was going to give her to Miles anyway. She loves having any new attention. She loves people."
"Especially that godfather of hers," Kira commented, grinning over at O'Brien.
"I have the touch," O'Brien joked. Carefully, Bashir gave Renzia to Bareil, who looked delighted to be holding her. Renzia, always appreciative of any attention, cooed endearingly and waved her small hands.
"She looks just like her mother," Bareil said.
"Everyone says that," Bashir replied with a grin. "How is everyone this morning?"
"Fine," O'Brien replied, sipping his raktajino. "And now that you're here, we can start eating."
Bashir laughed.
"You didn't have to wait for me. But I appreciate that you got my breakfast," he said, gesturing to the scones and jam and raktajino in front of him.
"Food is a poor substitute for sleep," O'Brien said. "But a father can always hope it works."
"Is she still waking up in the night?" Kira asked.
"Yes," Bashir said, then took a sip of his steaming coffee. The Bajorans had opted for a more traditional Bajoran breakfast, and, true to his self-discipline, Bareil had less food than the rest of them, mostly fruit and grains, and some tea. "But that's common for human babies. Even half-human babies. She'll grow out of it."
"It's a good thing Bajoran nights are longer than Terran ones," Kira commented. "Gives you that extra hour to sleep."
Bashir smirked.
"I don't notice anymore. I've lived here too long. You should hear Jadzia complain. I think she'd like another ten hours added to the night."
"Can't say I blame her sometimes," O'Brien commented.
"Only because then you'd have more time to do repairs," Kira teased.
"Cardassian and Bajoran technology were never meant to work with other Federation technologies. I don't understand why Starfleet never thought of that when this place was built. You'd think that the Cardassians tabling a plan to build an orbital processing center might have caused a few other Federation engineers to pay attention, instead of us scrambling to join technologies afterwards."
"You could always request more Cardassian engineers," Kira said with a smile. "I'm sure I could get Captain Sisko to approve the transfers."
"I bet you could," O'Brien said dryly. "But the ones I have already act as if I'm crazy when I suggest changes. Or think they can do it better than I can."
"There's no engineer in the galaxy who could do a better job than you, Miles," Bashir assured his friend. O'Brien chuckled.
"Just be glad you can get Cardassian parts," Kira pointed out. "Can you imagine if you couldn't?"
"Don't even say that!" O'Brien warned.
"Speaking of Cardassians," Bashir said, watching with a smile at Bareil played with his daughter, "When is the admiral due, Commander?"
"Tomorrow afternoon," Kira replied with a smile of her own.
"You must be looking forward to it," Bashir commented. He felt strange saying it, as if the arrival of Kira's adopted father wasn't something she should be looking forward to it. He shook off the feeling, wondering what was wrong with him, then deciding it was the lack of uninterrupted sleep.
"It's been a long time since I've seen him, or my mother," the commander said. "And Ziyal is coming with them."
"That's wonderful," Bareil said. "I didn't know that. It will be good to see her again."
"I just found out myself, early this morning," Kira replied. "When your father is Admiral Dukat, it's not hard to get permission to come to an official state event."
"Any word for the Trisepat?", Bashir asked.
"Our communications posts in the Gamma Quadrant sent a signal through late last night. The fleet's on their way. They'll be here exactly when they said they'd be here."
"Nothing like Trisepat punctuality," O'Brien said.
"They're nothing if not precise," Bashir agreed. "Still, better than having a surprise fleet of ships sailing through the wormhole."
"I still think we were lucky," Kira said. "Imagine what else we could have found on the other side of the wormhole. If a Bajoran or Cardassian ship had found the wormhole seven hundred years ago, it would have been that Dominion we would have run into."
"From what I've read about Trisepat history, that would have been a very unpleasant alternative," Bashir said, feeling a shiver run down his spine. He wondered at himself; why was he feeling so off today?
"Well, we don't have to worry about any of that," Kira said, taking off her black and red uniform jacket. Underneath, she wore a red command uniform shirt with short sleeves. Most non-Cardassian Starfleet officers stationed on Terok Nor did. The station had been designed by Cardassian engineers and built by the Cardassian and Bajoran governments to process ore mined on Bajor that was heading for the Cardassian systems. It was kept warmer than most of the crew liked, but lower than standard ambient Cardassian temperature. There had to be some compromises.
"All we need to worry about is the masses of ambassadors and delegates and luminaries that will be flooding the station over the next two days," O'Brien commented.
Bareil, who was eating his breakfast and occupying Renzia, smiled at the officers.
"I'm glad to the first of those masses," he said.
"Believe me, Antos, you're our favorite," Bashir replied with a grin. "I wish they were all like you."
"Patient and respectful," Kira agreed. "But I don't think we're expecting any Klingons. It should make Quark happy."
"And me," Bashir replied. "Simon, too. I cannot believe how much those people love to fight."
"Don't get too comfortable with the idea, Julian," Kira warned. "Chancellor Gowron might send some diplomats anyway. Just to show the Trisepat that the Klingon Empire welcomes them and looks forward to their visit to Qo'noS."
Bashir opened his mouth to say something when the station rocked suddenly. The four adults looked around, alarmed, and Bashir noticed Bareil tighten his grip on the baby.
"What was that?", the doctor demanded.
"Kira to ops!" the commander snapped, hitting her combadge. "What the hell is going on?"
"Some sort of explosion in the ore processing center!" Dax's voice came back. "We're trying to establish communications– got it! Dax out!"
Bashir was already rising from his chair when Tarses' calm, level voice came over the com.
"Tarses to Bashir. Please report to the infirmary."
"I'm on my way, Simon!" Bashir replied.
"Sisko to Kira and O'Brien. Get up here now."
Bashir hesitated, aware that he had to do something with Renzia.
"Don't worry, Doctor," Bareil said in a reassuring voice. "I'll take care of her."
"Thank you," Bashir said gratefully and turned and ran to the infirmary. He skidded inside in time to see the transporter depositing five people into the main examination area. Tarses was there immediately, cool and collected as always, and he was joined by two nurses.
Three of the people beamed in were standing, and two were holding an obviously injured man between them. Only Odo wasn't wearing the mandatory processing suit, being impervious to any of the contaminants or the heat in the processing center. The man being held by the two white suit-clad ore workers had obviously been hit by the blast; his own white suit was stained black and torn open, revealing scorched clothing and blood.
The other suited figure removed her helmet; it was a Cardassian supervisor. Bashir noted all of this in less than a second.
"What the hell happened?", he demanded, grabbing a tricorder and scanning the injured man as the two other ore workers struggled to get him onto a bed.
"There was an explosion in one of the power lines," Odo replied. "Part of the conduit got blocked somehow and the pressure built up until it blew."
"We have to get this man into surgery. Simon, Jabara, Kiln, help me get him desuited. Odo, who is it?"
"Jake Sisko."