As she pulled on her uniform jacket, Jadzia Dax felt a wave of relief wash over her.
She was going home.
What's more, she felt like herself for the first time since she'd been joined. Looking in the mirror as she zipped up the jacket, she saw Jadzia gazing back at her. No matter what her other hosts had done, she was Lieutenant Jadzia Dax, a science officer. Torias had been a test pilot in Starfleet, and none of the others had joined Starfleet. She smiled briefly to herself, checked that her pips were straight, then sat down on her old bed to pull on her black boots. Bashir came in just as she was standing up again and she smiled at him. He was dressed in his cadet's uniform, which Dax had always found unflattering. Being a medical student, the drab grey of his uniform was highlighted by a green striped running down each arm and the outside of each leg. The ring of the collar was green, too. The pattern matched Dax's own uniform, but where his was grey, hers was black, and where his was green, hers was blue.
There was still a lot of uncertainty between them, and Dax could not really say what might happen when they returned to Earth. But at least they would be home, without all the pressure around them to figure things out right now. She wished she knew, however; going through this felt like walking through shoulder deep molasses. Time seemed to have slowed down just for them, so that the uncertainty she felt had the opportunity to grow. It was oppressive, feeling this way, even worse than when she'd been waiting to find out if she'd been readmitted to the initiate program.
"Ready to go?" Bashir asked her. Dax recognized he was acting normal on the surface; as a medical student, he was taught to do so. But underneath, he was as uneasy as she was, but as relieved to be heading back to Earth.
"Yes," she replied. She picked up her suitcase as Bashir made sure he had everything before snapping his shut. He gestured to her to go ahead, so she did, making her way down the stairs. Her family accompanied them to the transporter station, only a few blocks away, and they said goodbye there. As always, the goodbyes were emotional for Dax, with promises that she would come visit soon and that they would call and write from Earth. Her father hinted at the possibility that he and Zarin could come to San Francisco to visit, a prospect that pleased Dax.
She was finally able to signal the Kubai and she and Bashir transported up, beaming into a standard Starfleet transporter room. There was a Bolian woman waiting there to greet them, dressed in a red and black uniform with four captain's pips. Her skin was a subdued blue-grey, something Dax had seen only rarely. With her was a human security officer in his somber grey and black uniform, and a transporter engineer behind the controls.
The captain smiled at them as they stepped down from the transporter pad.
"Good morning, Lieutenant, cadet. I'm Captain Me'ha Rinn. Welcome aboard the Kubai."
Dax shook the woman's hand.
"Thank you, sir," she replied and Bashir shook Rinn's hand.
"Lieutenant Correaux will show you to your quarters," Rinn said. "We'll be underway in a few minutes, so I hope you'll forgive me for rushing off."
"Of course," Dax said, nodding.
"Captain, if your doctors need any assistance in sickbay while I'm on board, I'd be happy to provide it," Bashir said.
Rinn smiled at him, her white teeth contrasting brightly against her blue skin.
"I'm sure they have a pile of run of the mill work they'd love to pass onto someone else. I'll let them know to be expecting you," she replied, then gestured toward the door. Lieutenant Correaux led the way and Rinn nodded at her engineer as they left the small room. "Lieutenant Dax, I understand one of your former hosts was a pilot?" she asked.
"That's right. Torias," Dax replied.
"You're certainly welcome on the bridge if you'd like to see our navigation system. And our science team may have some data you'd be interested in reading. We haven't been out very long, but this ship is faster than she looks. We've traveled a fair distance."
Dax grinned. The Kubai was one of the first Intrepid class ships Starfleet had built, designed for the speed and energy efficiency required for deep space travel. It was the first time either Dax or Bashir had been on one, and Dax, for her part, was looking forward to seeing as much of it as possible.
"I'd appreciate that," she replied.
"Wonderful. I also hope the two of you will join me for dinner at nineteen hundred hours. It's not everyday I have Curzon Dax's successor on board."
Dax glanced at Bashir who grinned and nodded.
"We'll be there," she promised.
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, duty calls."
With that, she left them with Lieutenant Correaux who, compared to his captain, seemed terse and sullen. He gestured in the direction opposite from that which Rinn had taken, glowering slightly as he did so.
"This way, sirs," he said in a voice that brooked no argument or delay. Dax glanced at Bashir, who shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching, and they fell into step behind the taciturn security officer.
Bashir left the sickbay the next day, humming vaguely to himself as he did so. He was carrying a padd in one hand, reading it carefully, walking down the corridors toward his guest quarters with the practiced ease of someone who had been on this ship for more than a day and a half. It was a benefit of the genetic enhancements, being able to recall patterns effortlessly. He looked up only to avoid collisions with the crew members he encountered, always turning his attention back to the padd. He had been assigned report work, which hadn't surprised him, but had been permitted by one crew member to conduct her physical while the ship's head doctor, an Andorian woman named Alsaa, had overseen the exam. It had been a rewarding experience, working directly with a patient.
He saved his reading on the padd as he neared the turbolift that would take him to his quarters. In addition to having a few more hours in sickbay to look forward to after his lunch, he was anticipating that evening's concert performance. The ship had a very small orchestra composed of its musically inclined crew members, and they were playing at twenty hundred hours in the mess hall that day. Bashir was looking forward to taking Dax. Although none of her hosts had been musicians, she appreciated music deeply and was constantly searching for forgotten composers. Small orchestras comprised of local musicians were also a favorite of hers.
Now that they were on the Kubai, they had a little more time to spend with each other, which Bashir had been both anticipating and somewhat dreading. It was more than a little frustrating to feel that kind of mixed emotions towards a woman he had loved for over two years now. But his unease hadn't been entirely misplaced; they still seemed at a loss as to what to say to each other, at least sometimes. The silence that could so easily descend between them was a constant reminder of what they'd given up and the struggle they were facing.
At least, he reminded himself wryly, you aren't being constantly reminded by other people that Trill-alien relationships don't often last after joining.
Bashir was doing a good enough job of that himself. He didn't need anyone else's help.
"Julian!"
Dax's voice shook him from his thoughts and he looked round to see her coming up behind him, smiling. He smiled back, wondering if it would ever feel normal again to greet her.
"I thought I'd catch you," she said. "I was just in the science lab, helping them analyze some preliminary data."
"How's that going?" Bashir asked.
"It isn't all that stimulating, but it's something to do," she replied. "Makes good use of my scientific training."
Bashir nodded and held up the padd, about to say the same thing about his work in sickbay when the ship lurched, sending them both stumbling into the wall. Dax caught herself with her hands, but Bashir tripped backward into the corner of the wall that divided two corridors. He cursed as the red alert klaxon came on and Dax grabbed his arms, helping him regain his balance. The corridor dimmed in response to the alert and Dax looked around quickly.
"What the hell's going on?" Bashir asked as the ship rocked again. Dax and Bashir gripped each other's arms for balance, Bashir's padd falling to the floor, forgotten.
Dax shook her head and reached for her combadge, but another hit nearly cost her her footing. Bashir managed to hold onto her, his heart rate picking up fast.
"All hands, this is the captain!" Rinn's voice sounded suddenly from all around them. "We're under attack by the Borg! Battle stations!"
Bashir felt his stomach go cold and couldn't think for a moment. He saw his own initial panic in Dax's eyes, but a split second later, their training had taken over. Dax gripped him and they started toward sickbay together. There would be causalities, and both of them would be able to provide invaluable assistance. Even though Jadzia Dax wasn't a doctor, she knew enough from Audrid Dax to be able to help competently.
The ship took another direct hit, sending both of them into a wall. Dax uttered a short, sharp curse in Trill and hauled herself back upright using the wall as Bashir clambered to his feet.
"Let's go," she said through gritted teeth. He nodded, snagging her hand, and they broke into a run. They had barely covered any ground when Rinn's voice interrupted them.
"Lieutenant Dax! Report to the bridge!"
Dax hit her combadge.
"On my way!" she replied. Bashir stopped, turning back to her.
"Go," she insisted.
He nodded, squeezing her hand.
"Be careful."
"You, too."
Jadzia Dax turned and ran in the other direction, back toward the turbolift, which she prayed was working. She had no idea where a Borg vessel could have come from, or how much damage the Kubai had taken, but she hoped that Starfleet had learned a thing or two from Wolf Three-Five-Nine and built the new Intrepid ships accordingly.
She staggered forward, managing to catch herself with her hands, as the ship shook again, more violently this time. She was just scrambling up again when she heard the distinctive whine of a transporter beam behind her. It didn't sound Starfleet. Instantly aware that she was unarmed, Dax spun, dropping into a defensive stand. Two Borg had materialized not ten meters away from her, and she was the first thing that caught their attention. They started toward her, walking in their awkward lumber, and Dax launched herself at one, catching in on the shoulder and slamming her hand under its chin. The neck snapped back enough to give a satisfying crunch and Dax was about to jump to her feet when a blow across the shoulders sent her sprawling across the dead drone. She gasped and felt the hand wrap tightly around her upper arm, hauling her to her feet. Dax swung one arm, but the Borg blocked it effortlessly, rattling her bones and probably bruising them, she suspected. She saw it reach for her and tried to twist away from its grasp, but it held fast.
Suddenly, she saw a pair of familiar hands wrap around the Borg's face and twist its head sharply to one side. Dax heard the same crunch of vertebrae snapping and the Borg sagged. Julian Bashir let it drop onto its companion. She stared at him for a moment, seeing the cold rage in his eyes, and learned something new about him. She had never realized before exactly how protective he was of her, how deeply unwilling he was to see her threatened or hurt.
The rage faded almost immediately, but the passion was still there. He handed her a phaser, which she took with a quick puzzled look.
"Weapons locker. I told you to be careful."
As unlikely as it was, she grinned.
"I will."
He nodded at her and turned away again, taking to his heels toward sickbay. Dax turned and ran toward the turbolift, which was mercifully working. It deposited her on the bridge, which was already a scene of chaos, two crew men jostling her aside to get into the turbolift with an injured woman. Rinn snapped her head around and Dax hurried down the two stairs to join the captain. A Borg sphere was dominating the view screen and, although it had taken some damage, it wasn't enough.
"The Enterprise will be here in twenty minutes!" someone said, presumably in answer to a question Rinn had asked earlier. Dax saw another volley of photon torpedoes head toward the sphere and braced herself for an incoming blast.
"Shields back up!" someone else called out. "Only thirty percent!"
"Know anything about shield engineering?" Rinn asked, snapping her brilliant blue-purple eyed gaze at Dax.
"Some," Dax said.
"Help out Miss Soko," the captain ordered and Dax joined the engineer. "Bring us about! Get moving in the direction of the Enterprise!" the captain ordered.
"Initiating evasive maneuvers, pattern gamma," the helm office agreed and Dax felt the ship shift ever so slightly as it began to pull away from the Borg vessel.
Another hit knocked Dax off of her feet. She bumped into Soko, the engineer she was supposed to be helping, and the other woman cursed as she hit her head on a console. A flash of light from behind Dax made her throw her arms over her head to shield herself. The bitter, acrid tang of smoke filled her lungs and she coughed, raising her head to look around. Rinn was pulling herself to her feet and the ops officer was scrambling from his chair to help the fallen helm officer.
"Get her to sickbay!" Rinn snapped. "Soko, take ops, Dax, can you pilot?"
"Yes," Dax replied, hurrying to the helm. She sank into the chair and maneuvered the ship aside to narrowly avoid another blast from the Borg sphere. She let Torias' skills take over and set them back on course toward the Enterprise.
Sickbay was flooding with people most of whom, thankfully, were walking in, bringing in wounded. There had been one death already, an engineer whose console had blew and killed him instantly. The others were alive, in various states ranging from critical to sitting up and watching others being treated. Anyone who could hold a hypospray and stand had been co-opted from their roles as patients and made into honourary nurses. The nurses and Bashir had become doctors, taking care of the less critical cases while the ship's two doctors performed minor miracles on the seriously injured.
A human man in a red uniform and ensign's pips came in, carrying a woman of the same rank in the same colour uniform.
"Put her here," Bashir ordered, pointing to a recently freed bed. The man complied and Bashir handed him a hypospray. "Hold this," he said. He ran a quick scan to determine the woman's race – he couldn't tell the difference between a Betazoid and a human visually, and there was enough cross-race breeding in the Federation that alien blood wouldn't always be apparent. He determined she was a quarter Betazoid and assessed the extent of her injuries before taking the hypospray back and injecting her. The woman groaned and the ensign who had brought her in leaned over so she could see him.
"It's all right, Tany."
"As long as we don't get assimilated," she replied, her voice weak but still firm. The ensign grinned at her.
"I'll make sure we don't," he replied. "I'd better get back to the bridge."
She nodded and he turned to leave, but one of the regular nurses stopped him.
"Maska, what's going on up there?" she demanded.
"We're headed for the Enterprise. Two against one isn't good odds for anyone, even a Borg ship."
She nodded and Maska hurried out. Bashir turned back to his patient, who had suffered some burns across her chest and arms when she'd tried to shield herself from the blast at her console. He healed those quickly, then took care of the broken ribs she'd sustained.
"Feeling better?" he asked, helping her sit up.
"Yes, thanks." She got a good look at him for the first time and her eyes widened. "You're just a med student!"
"Don't hold that against me," Bashir replied, flashing her his most charming grin. "Now, come on, we're out of beds, but take a handy seat on the floor."
He helped her sit down against a wall, where a crewmate of hers welcomed her. The doors of the sickbay hissed open as the ship took another hit, sending Bashir and everyone else on their feet staggering in all directions. There was a litany of curses as Bashir managed to catch himself against a biobed. He felt a sharp pain in his ankle and suspected it was sprained, but ignored it for the time being. The ship shook again and Bashir closed his eyes momentarily, starting to worry that their shields would be gone any moment, if they weren't already.
One of the doctors, an Andorian woman, hit her combadge angrily.
"Alsaa to bridge! How much longer until we reach the Enterprise?"
"Five minutes, Doctor!" came Rinn's voice over the com. "How many wounded?"
"Too damn many!" the doctor replied as two of the nurses helped get the new arrival onto a bed. He was a human male, bleeding profusely from various wounds, burns marring his skin. Alsaa glared at Bashir. "Julian, we need your help."
Bashir hurried over to join them, taking instructions from the doctors as they anesthetized the man and began performing surgery. The power flickered in the sickbay suddenly and Bashir resisted the urge to look up, keeping his concentration on his patient.
"Not now, dammit!" the other doctor, a human man named Fleming, cursed at the ship in general. The Kubai responded by providing them with another tremor, one that earned cries of alarm from some of the patients sitting along the walls.
"Julian, laser scalpel," Alsaa said and Bashir handed the instrument to her, ducking for balance as they took another, more direct blast, keeping his hands pressed firmly against the wound on the injured man's stomach. The power flickered again, going out for a few solid seconds.
"Fleming to engineering, we need to keep the power on here!"
"Understood, Doctor," a calm, Vulcan voice replied. "We are doing our best."
Fleming muttered something under his breath that Bashir suspected he was the only person to hear. The ship shifted suddenly and Bashir was willing to bet they'd just avoided another blast. For a moment, he wondered where Dax was, if she was all right, but pushed the thought out of his head. If she wasn't in sickbay, she was either alive or dead, and he preferred to think she was not the latter.
The hiss of the doors made Bashir look up again, and his eyes widened when a Borg drone lumbered into the crowded sickbay. Everyone froze in shock for a moment, then Bashir left the bedside, launching himself at the drone, slamming it into a wall. It jerked, reaching up for him automatically, slicing the side of his right thigh open. Someone from behind him yelled: "Doctor, duck!" He didn't even think about the misnomer, but threw himself to the floor as a killing shot caught the Borg straight in the chest. Bashir rolled aside as it fell, then hoisted himself to his feet with a speed unknown to normal humans. He ripped the sleeves of his uniform jacket off, folded one up quickly and used the other to tie the makeshift bandage on.
A voice from the air cut through the sickbay.
"Enterprise to Kubai sickbay. Stand by to beam aboard. How many people do we need to beam directly to sickbay?"
"All of us!" Alsaa replied.
"Acknowledged."
Bashir felt a deep relief sweep through him as he crouched down beside a still-injured woman. The same emotion was evident on her face, supplanting the pain for the moment as she held her broken arm carefully on her lap. He was just about to offer her a reassurance when another Borg drone came through the door. It lunged at him and Bashir caught it, aware on some level it was a female drone, then felt the familiar tingling sensation of a Starfleet transporter beam locking on.
Dax maneuvered the ship as best she could, keeping one eye on the progress of the sphere as it tracked them and one eye on the progress of the Enterprise as it approached them. She dodged a blast from one of their weapons array, but couldn't miss the second. She was able to brace herself somewhat, but heard a cry from behind her, and Rinn's voice snapping at whoever it was to get to sickbay. Her stomach knotted; she was worried about Bashir, but hardly had time to process that emotion.
Torias had been an excellent pilot and had passed on most of his skill to her, in addition to her own flying skills, which she'd developed before being joined. But, while she was working with eight minds, the Borg were working with billions, all simultaneously. Dax bit her lip and plotted a new course, but they still took another direct hit.
"Shields down to five percent!" Soko reported.
"Dax!" Rinn snapped.
"Switching to evasive pattern omega," Dax agreed, hoping the extra maneuverability of the Intrepid class ship would help them stay in one piece until they reached the Enterprise.
A com signal interrupted the chaos on the bridge.
"Alsaa to bridge! How much longer until we reach the Enterprise?"
"Five minutes, Doctor!" came Rinn's voice over the com. "How many wounded?"
"Too damn many!" the doctor replied and ended the communication. The ops console began beeping and the ensign keyed in a few commands, then nearly smashed his head on his controls when they sustained another hit.
"There's a message coming in from the Enterprise, sir!" he said to Rinn. "We have audio only."
"Put it through!"
"This is Captain Picard of the Enterprise. Do you read me, Kubai?"
"This is Captain Rinn. We read you, Enterprise."
"Lock your weapons on the target coordinates we're sending you. Wait until my mark."
"Understood," Rinn replied.
"We have the coordinates, sir," the tactical officer said from the back of the bridge. "Locked on and ready."
Dax dodged another two shots. The third glanced them and she cursed silently to herself. She wondered if Bashir was all right, but he was in sickbay, where help was readily available. Another blast caught them and she smacked her arm against her console, wincing slightly but pushing the pain aside. She glanced up to see the flagship of the Federation fleet sail into sensor range of the viewscreen. Dax waited for a count of five seconds, then began to bring the Kubai around to match the Enterprise's trajectory. The Galaxy class ship came up along side them, looking as if it were on a slight angle to the smaller ship. Dax matched their course and speed effortlessly. She noted their shields go offline momentarily, then snap back on.
"Standby, Kubai," Picard's disembodied voice said and Dax half braced herself, expecting another shot from the Borg vessel, but the Enterprise took it instead, her shields flashing as the energy was absorbed. "Mark!" Picard cried and both ships fired at once. Dax felt her heart pause and her breath catch in her throat as the combined fire power of the two ships cut through the somewhat weakened Borg defenses. There was a moment where the universe seemed suspended around her, then Dax winced against the light and braced herself against the shock wave as the sphere exploded. The Kubai rocked, then the disturbance subsided as the Enterprise enveloped her shields around the battered ship.
Dax remembered to breathe out.
She glanced back to see Rinn surveying the damage. The captain asked if everyone was all right, and assisted her first officer, who was bleeding from a superficial shoulder wound. The engineering consoles were on fire and Dax leapt up, joining Soko to put out the blaze.
"Damage reports coming in," the ops officer reported. "The warp core is off line, although we still have thrusters and impulse. Hull breaches on deck two, section A, deck four, sections A through C, deck ten, section F and deck fourteen, sections I and J. Emergency forcefields are in place. Primary life support is down in the crew quarters on deck five, but secondary life support is on line. We've lost primary environmental controls in engineering, too, and secondary controls are weak."
"Soko, get down to engineering and help them get the enviro back on line. Warp engines can wait for now. Mantaes, Dax, Van Den Halden, get down to deck five and begin evacuating any personnel in that area."
Dax joined the first officer and another science officer, heading for the turbolift, which was still functional. She heard Rinn calling sickbay and wished for news of Bashir, but the doors hissed closed before any reply came through.
"O'Brien to bridge! There's a Borg signature in the transporter matrix!"
"Get it out of there, Commander!" Riker's voice came back over the com.
"I can't, sir!" O'Brien replied. "It's in physical contact with one of the Kubai's crew members! O'Brien to Crusher, Doctor, you're going to have a Borg guest beaming in with the others!"
"Understood!" Crusher replied, spinning around and snagging the phaser rifle being extended to her by a prepared security officer. Yar had deployed a team to the sickbay in case something like this happened, and the doctor silently thanked the other woman's prescience. She thumbed the rifle power up as high as it would go, then shouldered it, setting her sights as the transporter deposited a large number of Starfleet wounded and medical staff into her sickbay.
The Borg drone was locked in a struggle with a medical student, who seemed to regain his initiative first and force the drone backwards. Crusher fired, but the Borg's personal shields simply absorbed and dissipated the energy. With a silent curse, Crusher swung the weapon around and leapt toward the pair, using the rifle as a bat and smashing it across the back of the drone's head. It staggered and the med student drove a powerful blow into its stomach, then caught it on the chin as it doubled over. The drone hit the floor and the med student pinned it down.
"Get off of it!" Crusher ordered, aiming her rifle again.
"I think its human!" the med student replied.
Crusher got her first good look at the drone; indeed, it appeared to have been a human female.
"It's a Borg," she replied.
"And you have it here alone," the man replied. "Put it in stasis. You've done it before."
"Without much success," Crusher replied.
"You have to try," the man replied with such vehemence that Crusher was taken aback. Then she realized that she did have to try; she had the opportunity to save a life, to reverse a harm done.
"Put it in stasis," she ordered, keeping her weapon aimed at the unconscious drone.
"Sir?" the security officer who had handed her the phaser asked.
"You heard me," Crusher replied. They hesitated a moment, but then helped the med student up and secured the female drone with a speed that impressed the doctor. Crusher noticed the young man from the Kubai had a makeshift bandage around one leg and was limping slightly, favouring that leg, but ignored it. They had far more serious wounded to deal with, and the Enterprise had drawn heavy fire of her own from the sphere when she'd entered weapons range. Wounded from the flagship were coming in now, and she had more important things to deal with than a med student with a superficial wound.
One of the doctors and one of the nurses from the Kubai had already taken one patient into surgery, ignoring the potential threat of a single drone here in favour of their patient. Crusher sent a nurse of hers off with them and began a triage of the other wounded with the Kubai's other doctor, an Andorian woman who said her name was Alsaa. They sorted out those who were well enough to leave and got security to find them somewhere to go. Crusher assigned wounded to her staff, including the med student, who seemed more than competent enough to work on his own.
Bashir had never worked so hard in his life, but barely noticed. There was a pain in his leg, a dull throbbing pain where the cut was, and a sharp pain from the sprain in his ankle, but they barely registered as he moved from patient to patient, smiling and reassuring them with a practiced ease he was surprised he could muster so simply. The Enterprise had a fair number of causalities of her own. There was a large number of people on the ship and the aftermath of the battle saw a lot of people filtering in as soon as they could get there. He'd just finished healing an engineer's broken leg when a distressed looking civilian woman came limping in, carrying a crying child.
"Keiko!" the Enterprise's head doctor, Crusher, exclaimed. The woman sagged against a wall, bleeding from a cut on her temple, and Bashir, closest to her, rushed forward, taking the little girl out of her arms.
"Molly," the woman named Keiko murmured as Crusher caught her before she fell.
"Bashir will take care of Molly," Crusher assured the woman. "She'll be fine. We need to get you looked after."
With the help of a nurse, Crusher carried Keiko off. Bashir bounced the crying Molly gently in his arms, making soothing noises. He walked toward a biobed, which the engineer quickly evacuated, thanking him on her way out. Bashir put Molly down and turned her face up toward him. Molly's crying hiccoughed, then she looked at him, puzzled.
"Hi, Molly, I'm Julian. I'm going to look after you. Did you get hurt?"
The little girl, probably only three at best, began to cry again, but not to sob. Bashir crouched down and did a quick visual examination, then grabbed a tricorder and scanned her. At this, Molly stopped crying again and watched the machine with a frightened curiously.
"I'm checking to see where you might be hurt. Did your arm get hurt?"
She nodded, her lips trembling, and Bashir put the tricorder aside, taking her left arm and prodding it gently. Molly let out a wail and the med student nodded, grabbing the osteo regenerator that a nurse extended toward him.
"This will make you feel better," he promised over the wails. Quickly, he healed the fractured humerus and checked the bones in her forearm to ensure the more fragile bones were fully intact. There was a hairline fracture in her radius, which he sealed as well, then checked her quickly for any more internal injuries. She had escaped less scathed than her mother, without any surface cuts or any other serious injuries. Mostly, she was just afraid.
Bashir picked her up and settled her against one hip, bouncing her gently again. He shushed her reassuringly, and the girl threw her small arms around his neck. Bashir held her tightly, scrambling up onto the biobed and rocking her back and forth until she began to calm down. She raised her head, looking at him with bright brown eyes, sniffling and wiping her nose.
"Want Mommy," she said plaintively.
"I know you do," he said. "Mommy's getting her cut fixed. Do you think you can wait a bit here with me? She won't be long."
Molly regarded him with a look older than her years.
"Who're you?" she demanded.
Bashir grinned.
"Julian Bashir."
"Where's Daddy?"
"I don't know where he is. I bet Mommy will, though. We only have to wait a few minutes."
"Julan," Molly said, as if considering his name for herself, then settled against him, looking around. The resilience of such a small child amazed him. As he looked around the sickbay, he was alarmed: there were injured people everywhere, a few active stasis containers that didn't bode well, a Borg drone in stasis, dozens of people who had been evacuated from the Kubai comforting friends and crew members, security trying to round up those who had been discharged.
The doors hissed open again and Bashir looked up to see an engineer in his black and gold uniform rush in, looking around in a panic. Molly extended toward him and shrieked: "Daddy!"
The man whipped around to face her, a look of utter relief crossing his face. Bashir pushed himself from the bed and met the man halfway across the room, shifting the ecstatic girl into his arms. The man hugged her tightly, glancing up at the ceiling as if sending a silent prayer of thanks.
"Is she all right?" he demanded.
"Just fine. A couple of broken bones. Nothing to worry about," Bashir assured him.
"Thank you," the man, a lieutenant commander, said. "What about my wife, Keiko?"
"Keiko's fine," another voice said and the man turned, Bashir forgotten. Crusher was standing behind them and the man hurried toward her, asking about his wife's health. Bashir turned as someone else came into the sickbay and hurried toward the Vulcan man, helping him to a bed, and began treating him.
A security detail had joined them and clearing out the dangerous areas of deck five was going as well as it could be expected. The ship hadn't sustained as much damage as Dax had anticipated, but it was still enough, and they had to force their way into some quarters and rescue people who were trapped behind fallen bulkheads or who had been injured somehow. Most of them were scared and more than a little relieved to see a Starfleet uniform, whether or not the person wearing it was familiar.
Dax could feel the ticking of the clock in her mind, knowing the area was unstable and that the secondary life support was all that stood between them and a complete lack of oxygen. She was just helping a concussed ensign into the corridor when an engineering team consisting of two people in EV suits hurried past. The ensign, already shaken and scared, looked more alarmed.
"It's all right," she assured the woman, then turned to one of the security guards, a Vulcan. "Can you take her to sickbay?"
"Of course," he replied, slipping one of the woman's arms around his shoulders and helping her away. Dax rejoined the others of her team, heading into another set of quarters.
After what seemed like an eternity, they were finished. While they had been working, an unease had been growing in Dax's mind until she became aware that she had no idea what had become of Bashir. She tried to push the nagging seed of fear aside, but found she couldn't, and part of her mind had insisted on focusing on him, on the utter lack of information about his well being. Now that they were finished, the fear seemed to blossom so that it threatened to envelope her, but Dax reined in her emotions tightly, refusing to think of the worst.
Mantaes hit his combadge, calling Rinn, who reassigned the first officer to engineering to assist with getting the warp core back on line. The security guards were sent down to another deck, to ensure there were no casualties, and Dax was summoned back to the bridge. They evacuated the section and Dax found a working turbolift. She stepped inside and hit her own combadge after giving her destination, her hands shaking slightly.
"Dax to Bashir," she said.
There was no answer. Dax tapped her combadge again.
"Dax to Bashir. Julian, do you read me?"
Again, only silence.
"Computer, halt turbolift and locate Julian Bashir."
"Unable to comply. Internal sensors are not functioning at one hundred percent capacity."
"Can you locate him in any of the areas where internal sensors are working?" she demanded.
"Negative."
"Are the internal sensors working in sickbay?"
"Confirmed."
"And he's not there?"
"Negative."
Dax felt her stomach go cold and took a deep breath to calm herself.
"Is there anyone in sickbay?" she asked, knowing full well that the Borg drones she encountered hadn't been the only ones to make it on board. She also knew two of them had appeared near sickbay. She didn't know if they'd been neutralized.
"Negative," the computer replied.
"Where did they go?" Dax demanded.
"Unknown."
She grasped the handrails as the universe seemed to narrow into this single moment, this single place.
"Were they beamed out by the Enterprise?" she asked, telling herself it was the most likely scenario.
"Unknown. There is no sensor data available for sickbay from twelve hundred seven hours to twelve hundred thirty-one hours."
"Resume turbolift," Dax said, feeling numb. She took another deep breath and told herself that Bashir and the others had most likely been beamed over the Enterprise, where the sickbay facilities were better and doubtlessly less damaged. She had work of her own to do now; the ship would need someone to pilot it to the nearest starbase, and she appeared to be their best option for a pilot at the moment. Bashir would have to wait, but knowing that didn't make her feel better. In her mind's eye, she saw the Borg ship exploding and swallowed a fear that he may have been on it, already assimilated, when that happened.
"All right, you're turn," Crusher said from beside Bashir and he glanced up.
"What?" he asked.
"There isn't anyone left to treat but you," the red-haired doctor said, crossing her arms and giving him a 'don't-argue-with-me' look. Surprised, Bashir glanced down at his injured leg. He'd forgotten all about it. The pain, as if waiting for its chance, returned. He winced slightly, unimpressed now with his makeshift bandage, which had soaked through with blood.
"On the bed," Crusher ordered. She gestured to a nurse to assist her as Bashir climbed onto a bed and lay down. He heard the doctor tsk and looked up to see her shaking her head at the bandage he'd made. "Good enough for on the fly, though," she said to him.
Bashir grinned and shook his head.
"Thanks."
"We're going to have to cut the whole pant leg off. Elisha, get his boot off carefully. He has a sprain in that ankle."
Bashir winced as the nurse slid his boot off as gently as she could, then held his leg up slightly.
"Right. Lie still, Julian," Crusher said and Bashir lowered his head again, listening to the faint sound of his uniform being destroyed, then repressing another wince as the doctor peeled off his bandage.
"Put his leg down," she said to the nurse. "Take care of the ankle. I'm going to disinfect this and clean it up. You're lucky it's a surface wound, Julian. The Borg are pretty serious about inflicting damage."
"Well, I don't feel assimilated yet," Bashir joked.
Crusher shook her head.
"Lie still."
He did as he was told and found his mind turning to Dax suddenly. A cold shiver ran through him; he had no idea where she was, if she was still all right. She hadn't shown up in their sickbay, at least, but he didn't know if she was still on the Kubai. He had no way of knowing if any other Borg had made it onto the ship, if they'd gotten to the bridge. The sphere had been destroyed, but had any crew members been taken over before that?
He took a deep breath to calm himself and looked at the pale ceiling. The doors hissed open from somewhere behind him and Bashir raised his head, wondering if they were receiving yet another patient. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching them, then Dax came into view, stopping in her tracks when she saw him.
Bashir froze as well. He'd never seen an expression like that on her face. For a moment, the stark terror stayed, then was replaced by a flash of disbelief, followed by utter relief.
"Jules," she said, and Bashir heard a world of banished fear in her voice. And something else. Something almost like ownership. Something that told him that he was her Julian.
She was still his Jadzia.
"Zia," he said and she rushed toward him, bending over to kiss him hard. Bashir put one hand on the back of her head, returning the kiss with as much enthusiasm.
"Are you all right?" Dax demanded when they pulled apart, both slightly breathless.
"He's just fine," Crusher assured Dax, who seemed to notice the doctor's presence for the first time. She straightened, facing the human woman. "A surficial cut and a sprained ankle, both of which we've taken care of."
Dax nodded.
"Good," she replied.
"I'll get you a new uniform," the doctor promised and Bashir glanced down to see one nearly naked leg. He nodded and the doctor and nurse moved away, giving them some privacy.
"I was so worried," Dax said, kissing him again. "I had no idea you'd been beamed over here. I thought– I thought the Borg got you."
"I got her," Bashir replied and Dax gave him a quizzical look. He sat up carefully, nodding to the stasis chamber where the drone was confined. "She grabbed me just before we beamed over. I think she used to be human. Maybe they can save her."
Dax grinned, shaking her head, and kissed him again.
"What?" Bashir asked.
"Such a doctor," she said. "Always thinking of others first."
"I'm not a doctor yet," he said.
She shrugged and hugged him. Bashir hugged her back, feeling a familiarity sweep back over. She may be Dax now, but she was also Jadzia, and, for the first time since she'd been joined, he actually felt as if he could understand that.
"What is it?" he asked when she pulled away and he noticed the strain around her eyes.
"I was so worried," Dax said, putting a hand on his arm. "I thought– Benjamin lost his wife at Wolf Three-Five-Nine and I can't even imagine how hard that must have been for him. The idea that you might have been taken to the sphere before it was destroyed…" She paused, letting out a deep breath. "That was hard."
Bashir's brow furrowed.
"Who's Benjamin?" he asked, quickly running through a list in his mind of friends of hers he knew. The name wasn't familiar.
"Oh. One of Curzon's friends. Benjamin Sisko. He was the ex-oh of the Saratoga. It was destroyed at Wolf Three-Five-Nine. His wife died on board."
Bashir felt his heart twist, both for Sisko and for himself. He couldn't imagine losing Dax like that.
"Well, I'm all right," he assured her, taking her chin in one hand. Dax smiled at him and he reached up with his other hand to brush a strand of dark hair from her forehead. He kissed her again and Dax kissed back. This finally felt familiar again, too. He was glad to have her back, although he understood she'd never be the same person she had been before being joined. He wouldn't be the same person he'd been before her joining, either.
"I think we may just beat the odds," Dax commented. Bashir grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple.
"This human doesn't give up so easily," Bashir said.
"Neither does this Trill," Dax replied. "Especially not anymore."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," he told her and she grinned at him, pulling him into another kiss.
