CHAPTER FOUR

"Zach?" O'Brien returned. He hadn't really known what to expect, hadn't really known what questions he was going to ask of who, but he really hadn't expected this.

"Are you okay?" O'Brien asked, allowing a smile to pull at the corners of his mouth. (Maybe everything was alright afterall?)

"Yeah, are you?" Zach seemed puzzled by the simple question. And he returned it as if it was some sort of informal greeting.

"Me?" O'Brien was lost a second before he realised the young man's inflection; "Yeah yeah, don't mind me. I was actually calling to… too speak to you I guess."

"Oh right," Doyle was obviously uncomfortable now. Why the heck was his engineering teacher calling him so late?

"Yeah, about earlier?"

"Earlier?"

"Yeah, I popped around to try and see you and… and… well you had that run in with those Officers?"

Doyle smiled and waved his hand dismissively. "Oh right. That. Nothing really to report Mister O'Brien. Everything's fine." He sounded half asleep, or drugged, or both. He could make and maintain eye contact, but his body language and speech were both aloof.

"Nothing? Then what did they want with you?"

"I don't really remember. I've had a long day, and I'm really tired." Doyle was trying to end the call, politely bow out in an uncharacteristic bout of shyness. O'Brien wasn't about to accept that; even though he could see his student was genuinely tired, he had too many unanswered questions.

"You don't remember hurrying out of your house, and being transported away by two Starfleet Security Officers?" he couldn't have put it more matter-of-factly.

"Uhuh," Doyle shrugged. "Look Mister O'Brien I'm real tired. I'll see you tomorrow at the Academy, we can talk then."

"The Academy? You're coming back?" (Maybe everything was alright!)

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it. I really want to be an Engineer."

Miles did a double take; (Talk about a u-turn). He let himself enjoy the moment; hearing what he wanted to hear, before he curiously asked, "You do?"

Doyle nodded sleepily.

"But yesterday we had that lengthy conversation about you leaving Starfleet and not understanding why anyone would want to."

Doyle shrugged; "Yeah, I say a lot of stuff. I guess. But I'm real certain now, why would anyone just want to lounge around all day and do nothing? Just because you can? There's no need to earn money to pay for anything, the Federation provides it all! But I really want to give something back. I want to serve."

"Serve in Starfleet," O'Brien said slowly, it was framed as a statement but an element of questioning remained.

"Serve the Federation in any capacity, but in particular Starfleet."

O'Brien was shocked at the 180 degrees Doyle had turned, without so much as a kind word (or a gun) from O'Brien. "I guess those Security guys really talked some sense into you?"

"Wha?"

"Sorry, sorry. Forgot you can't remember that." O'Brien said it for his own benefit as much as Doyle's. It was a verbal reminder that whilst he was now hearing what he wanted to hear, the journey the young man had taken to travel from there to here was a dubious one and one still wrought with mysteries and unanswered questions.

Doyle didn't reply and started to look spaced out as well as tired.

"Right, I guess you're tired?" O'Brien finally offered Doyle a get out. "I'll speak to you at the Academy tomorrow."

Doyle smiled, nodded, and severed the communication without hesitance.

O'Brien was alone again.

::::::::::::::::

"Julian, I'm telling you there's something fishy about all of this."

Miles had told himself to sleep on it, and he had. But he'd woken up just as full of questions as he had been when he went to sleep. He'd also decided to be damned with the time difference between Earth and DS9 (be damned, that Bajoran 26 hour day) and be damned with his own pride for wanting to solve this thing, or at least debunk it, by himself. He'd gotten up, made himself some eggs (Real eggs, not replicator), spoken with Keiko and the kids, then called Bashir.

Filling him in on the latest Miles had become animated, as only he could, when Julian's thinking didn't seem to align. It was a nasty habit that a lot of Humans have.

"And I don't disagree Miles, but surely that's why you called? To sound off someone who would offer up opposing theories."

O'Brien abated somewhat; "Yeah, I suppose."

"Can you imagine if Captain Sisko had been surrounded by yes men? We'd have done nothing but play baseball for the 5 years we served before the war!"

This made Miles smile, it was the second biggest smile of the day so far; second only to the one he'd naturally made when talking with his family.

"So what's your theory?"

"Your want my honest opinion?"

"Always."

"Logic says that the simplest solution is often the correct one."

"Great I'm talking to a Vulcan!"

"I've been accused of that before, been thinking about fixing my ears…"

"Julian? Stay on subject."

"Sorry! Of course, where was I? Ah yes; and the simplest solution is that this young student Zachary probably just had a change of heart. And that he was arrested by Starfleet Security on an unrelated matter he doesn't want to talk about."

"Even if I was to concede that," O'Brien was preparing his counter slowly (You could almost hear the cogs turning), "And I guess I'll go some way to proving or disproving that whether I see him or not in class today… even if I do concede that; what about the drunk in the streets?"

"He was taken away for Medical help!"

"But a drunk? On Earth?"

"The synethol capital of the Federation."

"Exactly."

"If he has access to a replicator he has access to real alcohol."

"But it just isn't the done thing on earth."

"Look Miles, what do you want me to say? Maybe he was from out of town. Maybe he'd just split up with his wife. Maybe he served, like us on a world or section of space, beyond the Federation border and came back with an unhealthy obsession with the stuff. That kinda thing still does happen. Even today."

"I guess you could be right."

"I usually am," Julian smiled; "But don't tell Ezri. I still let her think she's always right." Julian tapped the side of his nose in a "Mums-the-word" gesture.

"I guess I don't need to dig any further?"

"Miles you do whatever satisfies your conscience."

"I'll speak with Doyle today, and there's gotta be someone who knows this drunk, or knows where he's gone."

"Do that! And let me know what you find. Because Miles, I might be right most of the time. But not all of the time." Julian tone darker for a moment: "Things are different. Everyone is, since the war."

"Changed by the things we all did during it," Miles confirmed. They stared at each other for a moment, the things they did and saw during the war silently passing between them: AR-557, covert ops for Starfleet Intelligence, Section 31, self replicating mines, the invasion of Cardassia … the list went on.

"Thanks Julian." He cut the call.