Chapter 3
The creatures continued to multiply, and to the dismay of the local zookeeper and the veterinarian, there appeared to be no natural predators to cull the herd. Other mammals seemed to love the fur balls, in fact, the vicious guard dogs relished cuddling and playing with them. Birds just ignored them and reptiles spit them out.
Klink waited for Burkhalter to return his call. Hogan and his crew, in turns, gleefully watched the Germans lose it, while becoming concerned about possible environmental consequences...as Newkirk half joked, maybe they plan on killing us with kindness. Meanwhile, Odo beamed back down to fly over the camp, while the rest of the crew on the on the spaceship huddled together to go over their options.
"Wide stun. When everyone in camp, plus the tribbles, are unconscious, send all the tribbles into the transporter buffer."
"That will kill all the tribbles, Major. The stun I mean." noted Bashir.
"The stun won't hit anyone inside the buildings," said O'Brien. "Spacing them will kill all the tribbles...which is what we will have to do bit by bit," he added. "We can't fit them all into the buffers."
"Awww." Dax pouted.
As they argued, Odo soared over Luft Stalag 13, his keen vision taking in the sights. A bit perturbed, the constable hid behind a vacant area, and changed into a mouse. He carefully..very carefully...entered and exited several buildings. Fortunately, most of the men, guards and prisoners alike, were distracted by the tribbles. Garbage lay uncollected, games were not being played. He even spied the lead clandestine team lounging around the barracks, while the radio operator in the tunnel kept an eye on the wireless while surrounded by multiple balls of fur.
His report, once he beamed back up to the Defiant, was chilling.
"I'm wondering if these tribbles have a stronger tranquilizing effect," Odo reported.
"Or maybe the humans of this period react differently. Is that possible, Doctor?" Sisko asked.
Bashir nodded. "Human metabolisms and responses to the environment do change over time."
"We have no choice then. We have to send people in," Sisko stated.
"I can't believe we are voluntarily heading back down here," complained O'Brien, as he, Bashir, Sisko and Dax slogged through the woods surrounding the camp. An earlier air raid at a nearby factory made even this route precarious, as bombs missing their target impacted the path, which was strewn with debris and mud.
"Must have been fires in here that they put out." Bashir's replicated army boot was momentarily stuck in mud, and everyone had to pause as he pulled it out.
"All right." Sisko held up his hand. This time, the crew carried no tricorders; they couldn't take the chance of them being seen and confiscated before self-destructing. Instead, Dax and O'Brien rigged up small, less accurate sensors in fountain pens. Sisko looked at his writing implement. "It's clear."
The four approached the tree stump. Slowly, they each entered the tunnel entrance and climbed down the ladder. To their relief, the area by the ladder was empty. As they slowly made their way through the tunnel...
A signal was heard in Barracks two. Fortunately, for its inhabitants, (but not the creatures being petted, patted, fondled, stroked and cuddled) all the residents, their training kicking in, stopped immediately and jumped up.
Several grabbed weapons and headed for the bunk entrance, while the man closest to the colonel's door, opened it without knocking, and in a loud voice calmly stated that the intruder warning went off.
Within seconds, Hogan, carrying a pistol, was in the common room. "Who's down there on relief?" he asked Kinch.
"Baker," replied the radioman. He kicked a few fur balls out of the way. "You and Olsen wait here, Colonel. We'll take care of it."
Hogan nodded and hit the mechanism opening the bunk. Silently, Newkirk, followed by Kinch, LeBeau, Goldman, and Garlotti climbed down the ladder. Hearing nothing, several others followed. Hogan, Olsen, and the remaining residents waited upstairs, ready to intervene, if necessary.
As the crew from the Defiant slowly made their way through the tunnel, Bashir picked up a tribble and conducted a quick examination. Putting it back down, he whispered, "Seems like an ordinary tribble. I detected no unusual changes in my vital signs or endorphins."
They continued until they reached the area used by rescued airmen, which was empty. Shortly afterwards, they appeared in the radio room, where Baker and his loaded handgun stood facing them.
Sounds of all-clear made their way up into the barracks from the tunnels, and then there was silence.
"Got it under control," the sergeant noted calmly as he spied his comrades making their way towards him and his four prisoners, who stood, somewhat bemused, with their hands up.
"Oi, you again?" Newkirk walked over to the three naval intelligence men, and one woman, he noted happily. This time, he noticed her neck was uncovered and it was lovely. Like her three male colleagues, she was dressed in United States Air Corp clothing, hers being suitable for an Air Corps nurse.
"Tell them upstairs everything is under control and we will be up shortly with our intruders," Kinch told Goldman, who quickly headed up. "Let me guess," Kinch said as he approached the crew. "You forgot something?"
"Well, my doctor here wanted to recheck his patients," Sisko replied as he stepped forward, hands still held high. "Plus, we heard through the grapevine that you have a problem."
As the POW's spoke with Sisko, Bashir surrepticiouisly got some readings. he glanced down at his device, then slid it into his pocket.
Goldman headed up the ladder and told an anxious Hogan that everything was under control.
"Who's down there?" Hogan asked. "Otto?"
"No, sir. Our friends from naval intelligence," Goldman replied. "Four are heading up." He bent down, picked up a fur ball and began petting it.
"That's great. Just great. Why in hell are they back here? What if Klink sees them." Hogan grabbed a fur ball and did the same as Goldman. The other men in the barracks went to their bunks, and Goldman headed to the door to be a lookout. Hogan went over to the bunk and yelled down. "Send them up."
The crew from the future climbed up the ladder into the dimmed barracks. Obeying Kinch's orders, they stood at attention and stared straight ahead as an obviously annoyed Hogan walked back and forth in front of them.
"This reminds me of Kirk's ship," O'Brien, recalling the line-up after the fight on the space station, whispered to Bashir.
Finally, the colonel stopped. Bashir raised his eyebrows as the pilot reached into his pocket and pulled out a juvenile tribble. "Never mind checking us out. What do you know about these things?" Hogan demanded. as he began stroking the animal, his shoulders relaxing.
"Um, Bashir stammered. "I..."
"We've encountered them elsewhere," Sisko answered quickly. "I see you've been experiencing a baby boom, of sorts."
"Of sorts. Sit." Hogan pointed to the table, and Sisko obeyed.
Hogan waited for the other members of Sisko's team to take their seats. Given the lack of light in the barracks, for it was in the middle of the night, and the prisoners did not want the guards seeing a light, the situation felt rather eerie...on both sides.
"We have encountered them before," Sisko said quietly. "Heard they infested the camp."
"Infestation is a cruel choice of words," Carter pouted. "I rather like them."
"So does everyone else in the camp," Hogan commented. "Including Klink and his guards. He's calling in a general to see if this is an experiment. We know they aren't indigenous to the area." Hogan began tapping a drum beat on the table, smiling at his rhythm and inherited genius.
Sisko rubbed his chin and sat back in his chair. Both O'Brien and Dax glanced at him in understanding. Something is going on with these tribbles and their effect on these men, Sisko thought in alarm. They don't appear to be as on the ball as I remember. But they were on top of us down below. I need to speak to Bashir.
Hogan glanced at his watch. "You know, I think we need to table this discussion until the morning. We only have a few hours until roll call and everyone needs their sleep."
Several residents escorted the four visitors back down into the tunnels, and got them settled for the night. No one was left to guard them, an unusual situation that Sisko and the rest of the Defiant crew quickly noted.
"There's something going on here that I don't like," Sisko reported to his crew. "They aren't on top of things, at least not like they were a few days ago. Could be the tribbles." He held one in his hand, stroking it as it trilled a calming purr. But Sisko did not feel any different than he had on the space station. "Doctor?"
Bashir walked over and for a second time, ran his small diagnostic tool over an animal. He then stepped back.
"Unless the prisoners trust us," Dax commented.
"I didn't think they would leave us here unguarded," O'Brien stated. "Except for a sleepy radioman, that is."
Bashir was busy studying the readings on his instrument. He frowned. "The tribbles may be affecting the residents in this timeline. Our readings are the same, but their BP and pulse are lower than normal. Nothing to be alarmed about. I'd love a blood sample and a chance to conduct a more detailed examination."
"Shouldn't be a problem," Sisko replied. "You do have two former patients to check into."
"Do you mind if I give Sergeant Olsen here a once over?" Bashir asked the next morning. "I have a medical bag."
Hogan thought for a moment. "Use my office."
Bashir and Olsen entered Hogan's quarters. "Take a seat, Sergeant," Bashir said as he closed the door behind him.
Olsen cleared the chair of fur balls and sat down. Looking up at the doctor, he said, "I feel fine, Doc. Just a little sore, but really good, considering..." He bent down and picked up one of creatures.
"Why don't we put this aside while I examine you." Bashir grabbed the tribble and tossed it onto the lower bunk. Opening his replicated 1940's army-issued medical bag, the doctor removed a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff. He withheld a smile as he fondled the older equipment, recalling Dax's enthusiasm for the Kirk era tricorders. "Do you mind?" He pointed to Olsen's shirt.
"Oh, sure." The sergeant unbuttoned the shirt, removed it and placed it in his lap.
"Let's get started, shall we?" Bashir, using the old equipment, conducted a terciary examination. He was sure the Sergeant was fine, but it never hurt to recheck. "Scars look good," Bashir mumbled as he touched the fake lines he put into the sergeant's torso.
"Yeah, really good," Olsen replied.
"Any pain, confusion, fever?"
"It's only been a few days," Olsen reminded the doctor. "Honestly, I feel fine...except..." He glanced at the bunk.
"Except what?" Bashir noticed Olsen's eyes heading over to the tribble on the bunk. Wait, make that about five or six tribbles over by the bunk.
"Colonel Hogan told me not to say anything."
"Go on. Anything you say to me is confidential. Doctor-patient relationship." Olsen shook his head. Bashir walked over to the bunk, picked up a tribble and handed it to the sergeant. "This make you more comfortable?"
"Yeah, now that you mention it. Weird, isn't it?"
"Not really. Animals, such as dogs, are used for therapy, or at least they should be," Bashir added. He waited a moment, and sure enough, he could detect Olsen's respirations slow. The tribble also seemed to open up the sergeant's mouth, and he began to talk, a reaction Bashir found a bit alarming.
"You won't tell the colonel. I may have been hallucinating, but when I was on your ship, I think I heard some weird things."
Bashir's heart sank. Olsen was unconscious the entire time he was on the ship, except for one brief moment when Wilson identified the sergeant was there. What did he hear?
"You were very ill, sergeant. I doubt anything you heard was real. And, aside from Wilson talking to you, the rest was medical talk."
Olsen frowned. "I don't know...Maybe you're right...No, I'm sure I heard some weird stuff. And the Colonel and Wilson..." He suddenly clammed up and clutched the tribble in his hands. "Can I go now, sir?"
"In a moment. But first I would like to get a blood sample; just to check further for any signs of infection."
Olsen didn't argue and readily offered his arm to the doctor.
"That's wonderful, Sergeant. Will you please send Colonel Hogan in?"
Hogan, Sergeant Wilson, and the original discoverer of the fur balls were discussing the baby boom and the history of the discovery with the visitors, when Olsen came out and told the colonel that the doctor requested his presence in his office. "Just a quick once-over, sir. Understandable under the circumstances," explained the affable Outside Man.
"I'll come with you, sir," Wilson stood up and followed Hogan into the office. Meanwhile, Sisko, Dax and O'Brien took notes and listened intently to the POW's tale.
"They are going to cause a problem," Sisko stated.
"This?" Kinch asked. He held up a tribble. He scoffed at the captain as he tickled the fur ball under its chin, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. "I actually think these have done wonders for the camp. Guards are more easily fooled. Klink's in a good mood, although a bit perturbed because he doesn't know where these came from. And the men...well, it's been great for morale."
"Second that, mate." Newkirk grabbed a pack of cards from his pocket. "Poker anyone?"
"Oh, brother," O'Brien mumbled.
Closing the door behind them, Wilson and Hogan entered the colonel's office, Hogan taking the seat recently vacated by Olsen. Wilson sat down on the bottom bunk, quickly jumping up at the sound of a squeal. "I'm sorry little guy" He cooed. "You're all by yourself." He removed the pillow, and finding other fur balls resting there, dropped the juvenile he almost crushed.
"I'd like to do a brief examination, if you would please take off your shirt," said Bashir.
"Absolutely." Hogan quickly unbuttoned and then removed his shirt, throwing it to Wilson, who folded it neatly and placed it on the bunk.
He's awfully cooperative, Bashir noted.
"Feeling great, Doc." Hogan cracked his knuckles and leaned forward in the chair. "Thanks to you and your colleagues up there on that ship of yours."
"Up there?"
"Up there, over there, down there. Wherever, Doc," Hogan replied.
Bashir used the antique replicated tools to check over the colonel, and also palpitated Hogan as the colonel laid himself down on the bunk. There was nothing amiss, and Bashir didn't expect anything to be off. "I'd love to take a blood sample, just to double check for infection and to have a comparison. Otherwise, both you and Olsen are healing very well." While both Hogan and Wilson were distracted by a tribble, Bashir ran a quick diagnostic and reading on his miniature tool. "Right, that should give us some answers."
Wilson said. "Did that yesterday. No infection."
'Indulge the doctor, Wilson. He's just doing his job," Hogan said.
The medic shrugged.
"Anything else?" Bashir asked after he took some blood.
"Bit of fatigue, but I take it that is normal. Oh, and one more thing..." Hogan sat up. "One minute." He walked over to his desk and opened up a secret compartment. Removing a piece of paper, he brought it over to Bashir. Nodding at Wilson, he proceeded to explain. "Wilson is not a bad artist. We worked on this sketch together. Seems we both had similar hallucinations." Hogan knew that right after the strangers left camp he had decided to forget what he and the medic thought they saw. But, just yesterday, when Wilson checked on him in the barracks, the two began to discuss their experiences, and for some reason, Hogan thought it was prudent to document the picture in their heads.
Bashir glanced at the sketch, and swallowed hard. "That's very intriguing, Colonel. Something from one of those Saturday morning serials in the cinema, I venture?"
"Didn't have this picture in my head before you all arrived here, Doc." Wilson wobbled a bit as he walked over to the desk and poured himself a glass of water.
"Same." Hogan slowly walked over to the bunk and sat back down with a plop. "Both Wilson and I saw the same features on something...not human. A coincidence? I think not." He grabbed his shirt and unfolded it. Staring at it for a moment, as if he questioned the mechanism of getting dressed, he attempted to run his arm through the sleeve. it took him several tries, plus several long minutes to button it up. Standing up, he tucked it into his pants. All of this was witnessed by an alarmed Bashir. Wilson, meanwhile, was slowly sipping his water, while caressing an auburn colored tribble.
"I'll just take this to show to my captain." Bashir hurried towards the door.
"You do that, Doctor. and then tell him I will be addressing this...shortly. And that's an order." Hogan and Wilson followed the doctor into the common room.
"I'm going to look at these blood samples in the tunnel," Bashir announced. "Carter, is it okay if I use your microscope?"
"My lab is your lab, Doc." The explosives expert was seated on his bunk, playing a game of solitaire. Every so often, he would put down his cards and caress two tribbles relaxing by his pillow.
"Captain. I could really use your help down below." Before Bashir and Sisko could enter the tunnel system, a yelp could be heard coming from the bunk closest to the window. No one was watching the door, and it was one of the other residents with a bunk by a window who jumped down and announced in alarm that Schultz was heading towards their barracks.