Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.

'Dammit!'

'Will', commented Picard reprovingly, 'now, let's examine the situation calmly.' Riker simmered. 'Calmly!' spluttered Kira, who was sat over the other side of Odo's office. Picard silenced her with a glance. 'Yes Colonel, calmly. If we do not remain calm then we may well miss something vital in our haste. Correct Mr. Data?'

'That is correct sir. Studies have shown that when human subjects have been given problem solving tasks the following results have been observed. That in nearly all cases where the participants had previously been subjected to stressful external stimuli their performance was significantly impaired in comparison to that of..'

'A simple 'yes' would have sufficed Data', Picard interrupted him quickly, realizing his mistake, and sensing another onslaught of information from the android. Data stopped speaking. He was beginning to realize, not for the first time, that when a question was posed, the longer answer of those available was not necessarily the one the speaker required.

'So', Picard continued, 'options ladies and gentlemen?' He waited. 'Prevent Evek from leaving DS9.' Riker. 'Follow him.' Kira. 'Place a surveillance device on his ship. Monitor his movements closely. As he is now the only major player in this scenario that we know, we must keep close watch on him.'

They all turned to the speaker, Odo. 'Constable', spoke up Kira, 'how do you propose achieving that end? We don't even know what ship..'

'The Chervas, A Talarian freighter.' The voice startled them; 'Colonel?' All eyes turned to Kira. 'While you were speaking I was running down the arrival and departure logs for the past twenty-four hours. The Chervas arrived half an hour before Quark saw Evek in the bar. It leaves in ten minutes. And it has filed a flight plan that takes it very near to Cardassian space. Not difficult for the Cardassians to pull it in under suspicion of smuggling. At the same time returning a particular Gul back to the fold.'

'Very good Colonel. Now we have to move quickly. Odo, as you seem best suited to the job, I want you to place the tracking device. Picard to LaForge. I want a very small device, which we can attach unobtrusively to a ship, enabling us to shadow its movements easily, from a great distance.'

The reply came over the communicator, 'No problem sir.' Confident. 'Within ten minutes Mr. LaForge, if you please.' There was a pause, 'Ah. Data I could do with a hand if you're not busy?'

'Certainly Geordie. Data to Enterprise. One to beam up.' The familiar column of light enveloped Data as the transporter chief on the Enterprise locked on to his coordinates. In five seconds the cycle was complete and Data was gone.

Julian sat up. Who would be visiting him at this time? 'Er.. come!'

The door slid open to reveal.. Deanna Troi. Not in Starfleet uniform, he was quick to notice. A rather interesting, and aesthetically very pleasing, alternative though. It was a bottle green skirt, ending well above the knee. Julian started to sweat. Then he saw Will Riker behind her. And Worf whom he recognised from his prior tours of duty onboard DS9. Lastly Beverly Crusher, similarly dressed to Deanna, although her dress incorporated even less material than the former, due to a lengthy slit up its side.

'May we come in? We're one short. Do you play poker at all Julian?' He smiled; 'Er, poker, is that a game of some sort?' He inquired innocently. You didn't need to be Betazoid to see that he did, and fancied himself as quite good. 'Yes, it is', replied Riker slowly, 'and that line never works. I've tried it myself.'

Bashir grinned. He beckoned them all in, and they took their places around the table central to his quarters. Worf eyed him dubiously, and sat next to Deanna. Bashir's eyes narrowed imperceptibly at the circumstance that this suggested. He shook his head, he was becoming paranoid. The game began.

Julian soon realized that he was out of his depth. Again. It seemed that everybody in the room ate slept and drank poker. And Riker was a grand master. 'That's the best poker face I've ever seen', he commented. 'You've never played with Data', came the wry, but accurate response. 'Hmmm', he sighed, 'fold.' He gathered his cards into one pile signalling defeat.

'You give up too easily.' He and Will had been the only two left in the round. Will turned over his hole card. A Two! Damn! He had nothing! Bashir had been sitting on two pair, Eights on Sevens. Not a great hand. But a million times better than nothing! He groaned out loud, and gathered in all cards, handing them to Beverly.

'Your deal I believe Doctor.' His hand touched hers briefly, and he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Oops. Even Bashir knew when he was on dodgy ground. And Beverly Crusher looked like she could eat him for breakfast. 'But what a way to go!' His brain responded. Then he noticed Deanna eyeing him curiously. He cursed inwardly, and wrestled his mind back to the game. Beverly was still speaking,

'Dealer gets a two, hmmm. A six for the gallant commander, a seven for the Klingon.. there goes the flush Worf.' Worf glowered at her ominously from under his massive brow, 'for the Counsellor, another four, and finally, the young doctor finishes on a six. Ante up everyone. And this will be the last hand. I'm tired', she stretched, 'and broke.' She glared at Riker, and the mound of chips piled in front of him. He smiled benignly back at her.

For the first three rounds nothing much happened. Worf folded, it seemed his flush had indeed been lost. Deanna dropped out too. Crusher resigned last of all, leaving Bashir and Riker once again the last in.

Bashir once again checked his hole card. Six of Spades. Which with the other three sixes made Four of a Kind. And put Riker in a lot of trouble. He hoped. Somehow he had managed to control the facial contortions, which threatened to engulf him when he saw the last Six. He knew he'd played badly tonight. But he was hoping, in a last desperate move, to hurt Will's winnings badly. But only if Will had a full house or lower.

'I'll see your six hundred.. and raise you.. seven thousand five hundred.' He pushed his entire pile into the middle of the table. Riker began to sweat. 'The bet is with you Commander', Worf announced, quite loudly, and quite unnecessarily. If it had been anyone else Riker would have had words with them. Worf, he allowed the comment. 'Damn', he drew his hand over his face. It came away slick with sweat, 'I'll see you.' He pushed his pile forward, and simultaneously flipped over his hole card, semi-triumphantly. A full house. Bashir swore quietly. That had been too close!

He turned over his card. It was Riker's turn to swear. He'd been beaten. And by a junior officer too. But, to his credit he took it in good grace. He looked at Bashir. 'Next time Doctor. Anyway, I must be going. Good game everyone, goodnight.' He turned and left the room. Worf, who shared a look Bashir was unable to read with Troi, before stalking from the room, followed him fairly swiftly. Bashir, looking round, gulped nervously. He was left, alone with Deanna and Beverly. He began sweating nervously.

'There, that should do it! What do you think Data?' The android looked at the device in LaForge's hand. 'Not bad Geordie.' The response did not please the Enterprise' chief engineer. 'Not bad!' He responded hotly, 'Data this little beauty is an art form..'

'I am attempting to practice restraint in my complimenting fellow officers. I have found occasionally that praise for a particular action results in a lengthy discourse on its implementation. Also I must correct you Geordie. An art form is one whose form and or..'

Data practicing restraint? And talking about other officers giving lengthy discourses? 'Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!' Mused Geordie. He was careful however, not to voice the thought. Instead he threw up his hands. 'O.K., O.K. I give up!' He tapped his communicator, 'LaForge to Captain Picard. Sir, the device is ready.'

'Excellent Mr. LaForge. Constable Odo will collect it momentarily.' In front of the two officers the beam of a transporter field appeared and Odo emerged. 'Thank you gentlemen. Now, if you'll excuse me. Odo to Ops. Chief, put me as close to the Chervas as you can without attracting attention. Somewhere secluded preferably.' The beam enveloped the shape shifter once more and in seconds he had gone. 'Nice guy. Friendly too!' LaForge remarked, somewhat sarcastically. Data eyed him, unsure of how to respond. But he was sure that his response probably wouldn't be the correct one.

Bashir was, however, totally unaware of the current chapter unfolding around him. He would have been interested to learn that, at the very moment his brain was, once again, struggling with his hormones for control of his body, the rest of the DS9 senior staff was engaged in tracking the Chervas, by now halfway back to Cardassian space. 'I suppose we ought to be going as well. Worf will be wondering where I've got to!' Deanna stood up, Beverly, slightly slow to follow her lead stood also.

Bashir's gallant gear kicked in, 'May I escort you to your quarters ladies?' He held out an arm. 'No thank you Julian, that's quite al..' Troi. 'Why thank you Doctor, how kind. Shall we?' The response was quite unexpected. Especially as it had come from Crusher. He swallowed as she walked forward, holding her arm out for him to link in hers.

'Er, yes certainly. See you tomorrow Deanna', he called over his shoulder as he was practically propelled through the door. Now he was confused. Either he had his wires crossed or.. he glanced nervously at Beverly. No, his wires were fine, 'Help!'

'Sir, Cardassian warship approaching. Galor class.' The officer was nervous. He didn't like Cardassians. Which made him question why he had ever agreed to this lunacy to begin with. 'Good', came the reply, 'Gul Evek to the Kiert'at. One to beam over. Energize.' His form shimmered briefly and he was gone. The captain and his crew breathed a sigh of relief. Time to get out of harm's way.

'Centurion, lock disruptors on the Chervas.' Evek paused briefly, 'Fire!' The disruptor cannons spat briefly and the ship disappeared in a ball of brief flame. No warning. No raised shield. An easy target. No satisfaction could come from the destruction of such. Yet Evek smiled grimly. He was not positive that the Federation had placed a tracking device somewhere upon that ship. But he would have.

'Damn! Sorry, Captain, Commander.' Kira was angry, again. 'Quite all right, Colonel. I too regret the loss. Both of innocent lives, and of our one remaining line of inquiry.' Picard was magnanimous. 'Permission to make a suggestion sir.' He looked up. 'Granted Mr. Worf.'

'Sir by now the Archon will be almost halfway to Qualor II. I suggest that we dispatch a ship to shadow her movements in the system. That is where this all began. The Hood is at present close at hand and would be able to perform that duty. Also I suggest that we put out a Federation wide inquiry regarding other sightings of the Archon, or any other unusually old starships, apparently still in service.' Riker stirred. 'Number One?' Then he nodded. 'Agreed sir, a good plan.' Picard indicated the Tactical station. 'Very well. Make it so Mr. Worf.'

Bashir was sweating profusely. This was not going according to plan. What was supposed to have happened was that Deanna had agreed to the walk back to her cabin, while Beverly Crusher made her excuses and left. Not the reverse. Crusher also seemed rather more of a handful than Deanna, and he was not at all sure that he was up to the job.

'What is the matter with you Bashir?', he asked himself angrily, 'here you are alone with a beautiful woman on your arm, by her choice. And you are quibbling over it not being the one you expected!' He reminded himself that the current situation was by far the best he had managed, and decided to make the best of it. He realized that Beverly was eyeing him curiously.

'Penny for them.' He blinked. 'I'm sorry?' He decided, also, to try paying attention to his companion. 'Your thoughts. You were lost there for quite some time.' She smiled. 'Er, it was, er, nothing Doctor.' He gulped. 'You're disappointed aren't you? That I accepted your offer and not Deanna?'

'Absolutely not!' He hoped the affronted act was good enough for her. 'Ah, I thought so.' She sighed. Apparently it hadn't been. 'You called me Doctor', she explained, as if reading his mind, 'had you been comfortable in my company you would have remembered my name is..'

'Beverly', he interrupted her, 'look I admit that, maybe at first I was a little single-minded. But you are an attractive, intelligent woman. Not the sort of person I thought would have been remotely interested in me at all.' He hoped that would suffice as explanation. 'So', Beverly's eyes glinted mischievously, 'attractive, intelligent women are not interested in you. So where does that leave Deanna?'

The blood drained from Bashir's face as he realized the hole he had just fallen into. He looked around in his mind quickly for a ladder, but there was none to be found. He tried honesty as the best policy. 'Well, she isn't interested is she? I mean, after the business in the docking pylon and all.. Is she? You seem to be her best friend? Is she interested, or not?'

'Good answer. By the way, that wasn't meant as a trap. To answer your question though. I don't truthfully know. Deanna is involved with Lieutenant Worf. But that is going very slowly. For once Deanna is playing this one very close to her chest. If she has confided her true feelings to anyone, it isn't me. Sorry!'

'All right, I believe you. By the way, the other reason I was, well, surprised that you were the one to accept my offer. I would have thought that an attractive woman such as you would already have been involved with someone aboard the Enterprise. It stretched the bounds of credibility, for me, beyond breaking point that you could serve among five hundred plus men and not be involved with one of them. Unless of course they have no taste.'

'Why thank you Julian. That's very nice of you to say. But the sad truth is that you are right', she grinned, 'they have no taste. Here are my quarters. Would you care for a small nightcap?' He debated. Then decided. What harm could it do? He followed her in.

'Ah, Jean-Luc, good to see you again. And Will. How are you? Still refusing your own command I see!' Captain Robert DeSoto, commanding officer of the Hood, Excelsior Class Federation starship, was on good form they all noted. 'Captain', Riker addressed Picard formally, 'permission to address Captain DeSoto?' Picard eyed him sceptically. This did not look good. For Robert DeSoto that was. Still, ship's honour.. He let his breath out through his teeth slowly. Then decided. 'Granted Number One.'

Riker drew himself up to his full height. Unconsciously mimicking Picard's habit, he pulled down on the hem of his tunic. 'Captain DeSoto', he began, 'Firstly I would like to point out that no command has been offered to me which I deem worthy of my many talents. Even the Hood, Starfleet Command must be thinking of retiring some of their more elderly staff..'

Even Picard looked sideways at Will at that. He was after all, older than DeSoto. By some wide margin. Riker continued, 'and anyway, I think that a first officer's duty is to his Captain, keeping him out of trouble, no matter how much he wishes to get into it. And I'm good at that. Besides, First Officer keeps me out of trouble', he finished with a broad grin.

DeSoto to his credit took the banter in good cheer. He grinned back at them. 'Amen to that! Am I right Jean Luc?' Picard nodded his assent. 'All right, playtime's over. You must have had a very good reason to call me Priority One. What can the Starfleet flagship, Sovereign class, possibly want with a poor old Excelsior class commanded by, what was it? Oh yes, one of the more 'elderly' officers currently in service.' Picard smiled, 'We have a problem Robert. We need you to do a little job for us. We need you to observe the movements of the U.S.S. Archon, which should..'

'Hold on. I'm sorry Jean-Luc, but did you say the Archon? I thought that old wreck was long gone!' DeSoto was confused. 'So did I', Picard returned wryly. For DeSoto's benefit he recounted, again, the events of the past few days. As expected DeSoto was not impressed. He had served with distinction for many years on the Cardassian front when it was active and incursions common. To be faced with the possibility of a return to the same sorry state of affairs did not please him at all. He voiced his concerns in this respect. Loudly and at great length. Picard allowed him his head.

Eventually though he held up his hand. DeSoto quieted. 'Precisely why we chose you for the task Robert.'

'I thought it was because the Hood was the only ship in the area capable of doing the job.' DeSoto grinned. 'That too', Picard admitted, 'are we agreed Robert?'

'Yes Jean-Luc. I will attempt to coax my geriatric frame into the command chair, one last time before my frail old body gives up on me entirely', here he broke off and glowered benignly at Will, before continuing, 'I will then trail the Archon on long range sensors. Assuming the Cardassians have merely retained the shell, but have entirely refitted the weapons, sensor suites and engineering section to current standards. We are sufficiently ahead of the Cardassians to be able to trail them on long range and yet remain outside of their own field of detection. We will report back to you in seventy-two hours with our findings.'

'Until then. Good hunting Robert.' Picard nodded. 'To you too. Good luck Jean-Luc.' The Federation Seal replaced the face of DeSoto onscreen.

'Comments?' He waited. 'None sir', Riker replied, 'it seems, for now as if all we can do is wait.'

'I disagree', Kira interjected, 'Captain, we can use this time to study all the information we've got this far to see if there is anything we may have overlooked. Also we can maintain a permanent scan on Cardassian space. I have the sensor logs of the ship that destroyed the Chervas. If it strays near us again it may bear watching.' Considering both, Picard nodded sagely, 'Agreed, to both comments. While the majority of us are, as you rightly point out Commander, 'spare parts' at the moment, there is much work that can be accomplished in the interim until the Hood reports in. That said. I believe that now would be an opportune time for us all to take advantage of the temporary lull and gain some much-needed rest. Dismissed.'

'Beverly, I'm shocked! You didn't?' Troi put down her spoon. 'Yes I did, and why not?' Deanna and Beverly were sat at a table on the Promenade. Both now back in uniform, despite being off duty. Deanna had just recovered from nearly choking on a piece of double chocolate sundae, her favourite dessert. She had to have had severe provocation for that to happen! Nothing came between Deanna and her dessert. Usually. 'Because.. because.. I don't know why not! But you couldn't have!'

'I could and I did!' Beverly responded tartly, 'Now are you going to eat that last cake, or must I?' Troi was befuddled. 'Er, you have it', the reply underlined the depth of Deanna's feelings in the matter.

Bashir awoke slowly. Lying as he was on his face, it took him a few moments to get his bearings. Especially after the previous night. His head hurt. 'It's green', had been the replicator's somewhat unhelpful description. He'd had the distinct feeling that something was being hidden from him.

Hmmm. 'Well now you know what!', his skull retorted. From ancient Earth texts he had once read in preparation for a thesis on the subject of intoxicating Beverlys.. er beverages. Er, what? He shook his head. Instantly provoking a hammering action that dropped him like a stone to the pillow. Anyway, apparently the correct description for the course he had undertaken was a 'bender', this apparently being one of a 'serious' nature. Hmmm. He made a mental note on what remained of his cerebral notepad not to do so again.

Gingerly he reached for a hypospray, loading it with a suitable painkiller. Then pressed it against his neck and touched the actuator. Aah, blessed relief. He was now ready to face the world. The male populated half anyway. The other didn't bear thinking about!

Slowly, for some reason his limbs were still not at a hundred per cent efficiency, he dressed, took a sonic shower and left to begin his shift. Trying to avoid dwelling on the night's events. He almost succeeded too. But not quite. A small smile escaped his lips.

Guinan was amused. Data was obviously trying out a new humour subroutine on Commander LaForge. Not surprisingly Geordie was having trouble with it. They approached. The grin faded from Guinan's face as the realisation came that she too may have to partake of the offerings. Having suffered at the hands of Data's funnybone, she dismissed the mixed metaphor, in an abortive holodeck encounter, she did not want any more.

'..So the Klingon shopkeeper says, get this Geordie, the Klingon shopkeeper says, 'Well how do you think he fell off?' LaForge growled. 'Data! Enough!' Apparently the standard of humour was up to its normal level. Or should that be down to it? Data seemed mildly confused. 'But Geordie, do you not see? When the..'

'Yes', the frustrated officer broke in, 'I see, but Data, that joke is just not funny any more!' Data was puzzled. 'But you found it humorous when Commander Riker told it six months ago on Risa!' replied the android. 'Yes, but that was six months ago! When I didn't know the ending. When the joke was new. And when I hadn't heard it seventeen times in a row!'

'Ah. So the humour content of a joke is relative to the number of times it is heard, and the time-span over the repetition of its telling?' The frustrated engineer moaned; 'Yes! Guinan', he turned to her pleading, 'help me out here, can't you?'

'Ah, Lieutenant Ogawa, what can I get you?' Guinan rarely refused a challenge. But sometimes it was better to know when to admit defeat, retreat and regroup. Geordie thought it may have been coincidence that Alyssa Ogawa was at the other end of the large bar dominating one side of Ten Forward. Also that Guinan had chosen that precise moment to develop a hearing impairment. But he doubted it. 'Coward!' He muttered darkly. He returned his attention to the bemused android, and sighed.

'Shields up! Red Alert! Bring phasers to full readiness. Arm photon torpedoes.'

'Good game Commander!'

'Thank.. you.. Chief', heaved Riker. Parrises Squares was not a game for the faint hearted. Or, thought Will wryly, for someone of his age. He was just not fit enough any more. Mind you, the others seemed, if possible, to be in even worse shape than he. Which did not bode well for their futures at all.

He mopped his face with a towel and stumbled towards the corner, once again regretting the rash impulse that had led him to challenge Miles O'Brien and Kira Nerys to a game of Parrises Squares. He looked over at his partner. 'Not bad Geordie.' A pair of bright blue eyes regarded him balefully. The Enterprise' Chief Engineer was exhausted.

'Commander, with all due respect, if you ever con me into something like this again, I'll.. I'll..' Words failed him. 'Come on, I'll buy you a drink on the Promenade', Will stood, stretching and walked out of the holodeck where the game had taken place. Geordie, every muscle and sinew of his body screaming for relief, followed him, slowly.

They made their way to the Promenade and found a table overlooking the main walkway of the Promenade itself. As Will left to fetch the promised drink Geordie collapsed into a chair. It was his first visit to DS9, he had been unable to find time to leave the ship on their last visit. So far, he was not impressed, and he did not envy O'Brien his job in keeping the old station running smoothly, if at all. Talking of whom.. He winced as a large hand clapped him on a very sore shoulder.

'Commander, mind if we join you?' O'Brien was in jubilant mood. He had fully expected to lose heavily in the game. Worf not taking part had been a major bonus. His prowess in the game was undoubted. And feared. 'Sure, no problem', Geordie massaged his shoulder, feebly attempting to instil some life back into what was rapidly becoming a numb arm. They sat opposite him, and Geordie eyed Kira Nerys thoughtfully. He'd heard, from Will Riker about this one. A tough customer, and not to be crossed. 'Don't even think it!' had been Will's advice. Advice to be noted, and, given the source, seriously obeyed. 'So, Chief, you still managing to keep this heap together?'

'This wonderful station', retorted O'Brien hotly, and not without a certain degree of irony, 'is operating in absolutely first class condition. There have been no problems to speak..'

Will Riker returned, interrupting O'Brien's reply. 'There you go Geordie, only ordinary synthahol I'm afraid. Apparently the replicators are malfunctioning', he smiled benignly at O'Brien, 'I'm sorry Chief, I interrupted you I think, please finish what you were saying.'

'It wasn't important', muttered O'Brien darkly. He was sure Will had heard his comments and was pulling his leg. 'So, how's life in the fast lane?' he continued. 'Can't complain. Well, I could but who'd listen?' LaForge smiled. 'You still chasing Christie Henshaw?' Geordie's arm shuddered to a halt, his lips almost touching his glass. Slowly he put down the glass and turned to face O'Brien, and replied. 'Don't you have anything better to do Chief? Like maybe, diaper to change? Or something else, like a replicator', he held up his glass, examining it, 'to repair, for instance.'

'No rush, I'll get someone on it', he tapped his communicator, 'O'Brien to Ensign Davies. The replicators on the Promenade are acting up again. Have a look at it will you?'

'Aye sir', the connection was terminated. 'Talking of diapers', O'Brien resumed, 'Commander..'

'Unh unh', Will set his glass down firmly, 'babies to me are like Orion Slave Girls. Nice to look at but I wouldn't want to own one!' They all sat regarding him with looks of varying degrees of disbelief. He grew uncomfortable, quickly. 'What? What?', it then occurred that his last sentence did sound just a little bit implausible, in the same way that a reactor containment failure would be a little bit bad for the ship it occurred on. 'Oh, O.K. Bad example. But you get my point. Anyway', he continued, rapidly changing the subject, 'who's for another?'