"You're looking better," the leader had taunted them just minutes earlier, reflected light shifting over the oil on his face as he twisted it into a mocking sneer. "Must have taken a lot of doing, to get yourselves this far. Shame it's not about to do you any good."

Bashir scowled darkly. "You still haven't told us what you want in here." He half-gasped through a whispered reminder, prompting a reaction. The pale man cocked his head to one side.

"Thought you'd know."

He shifted away to position himself on the sill of an opaque, painted window, cradling the energy rifle in two cold, yellow-white hands. Veins and tendons bulged along both forearms with the tension in his watchful pose.

They're angry about something, thought Bashir, watching the taller, more muscular giant as he too lumbered past. Or… Not angry. Resentful - of me. Of us…

He turned away from the silent concern on Larkin's face, etched like cuneiform into the creases of her brow. It was an effort to convince himself that he did not need any attention from Hilary Larkin. He was not at all certain of whether he might have restrained himself in her position. Given ideal circumstances, before the first signs of illness had made themselves known, he had usually been able to maintain his blood pressure, heart rate, respiratory functions at a steady, medium level. But he was growing stronger. He already felt a fraction of gradual control returning to his hands.

He had not failed to notice the far more ominous glare that came from Jack's dark eyes, as the three newcomers stepped away, their scrutiny turned to distant, hawkish scowls. But might he have also seen the small man Riley glance briefly at his two companions - possibly even open his mouth with the beginnings of an unforthcoming protest? Julian cast him a pointed look, a surreptitious plea for silence.

There had been something else at the very edge of his vision. Two dark orbs were moving forward, from beneath the silhouette of a nearby cabinet, and resolved into a pair of wide and pensive eyes. The outline behind them was revealed as a small, thin child now crouched in the hidden shadows, shifting as though in response to the movement of others in the room beyond.

"Q'etu?" whispered Bashir, keeping deliberate contact with the Adigeon child's large eyes. Don't run. Whatever you do, don't run… With a quick, nervous glance at the three intruders, he offered the child a fleeting, clandestine smile.

Quietly, secretly, he raised a single finger to his lips. Q'etu withdrew a little, returning to his previous near-invisibility.

"You knew what we were getting into." Harsh whispers caught his attention before he had turned away again. The leader seized Riley by his upper arm, so hard that the smaller man flinched. The leader shoved his smaller subordinate away with a single movement of one large hand. "You promised to make yourself useful in this operation. Can you do it, or not?"

"Course I can. But…"

"Don't make me question my choice to bring you here, Brian."

"I…" Riley cast a trapped, despairing glance at the cluttered room around him. His jaw clenched. "Yeah."

"Right then." The other man turned his back on Riley, and pointed his rifle at the five seated hostages. "Watch them. And as for you lot, if you're really so smart, you'll stay exactly where you are."

Larkin's anxious eyes now held a question, but there was little need to give it a voice.

Bashir kept his response as close as he dared to the fringes of audibility. He indicated the shadows with a tiny movement of his eyes. "Q'etu's in there."

The lines on the doctor's face shifted automatically, shaping themselves to reflect her quiet exasperation. "Q'etu." Her tone accused as much as confirmed the presence of the Adigeon boy.

Q'etu moved sheepishly, closer to the light but not enough to make himself easily seen. "I did leave, Hilary Doctor," he persisted. "Just as you told me."

"Wait." Glancing sidelong, Bashir hoped fervently that he could silence his companions before they caught the attention of their guards. He winced with each effort at motion, but slid a little closer to the young Adigeon's place of concealment. "No - stay there."

And if the boy had indeed returned, without being seen or activating any of the security protocols… Could that mean…? Possibly…? Might there be some other way to follow him through the internal arteries of this tall, almost abandoned building? He had hidden in similar places, occasionally for several days. It had surprised the much younger Doctor Julian Bashir, how completely a Jeffries' tube could conceal a small party of stubborn fugitives.

"Listen, Q'etu. Did you say you came here from outside?"

Q'etu blinked once. "Yes," he responded. "The other one. Who helped me get here. She sent me to you."

Even Larkin frowned, shifting marginally closer. "What other one?"

"Like them," the boy insisted, pointing to Bashir. "And you. But she was quiet, and…" He paused, blinked slowly, and finally reached up to indicate the markings on his own dark, hairless scalp. "Orange, on her head."

Bashir held back a laugh at the sudden release of tension from his muscles. "Sarina."

"The tunnel is too small for her," Q'etu confirmed.

Then it's almost certainly too small for us. Bashir took a moment to conceal his disappointment. But he noticed Patrick watching him, the old man's eyes encouraging a further question. He turned back to the hidden child. "Could you get back out the same way?"

"Yes."

"Good." Bashir injected a degree of soft but deliberate urgency into his response. "Then listen carefully. I want you to get out of here. Fast as you can. Tell the lady who helped you that you need to find a man called Naron - understand? He's a… a Security officer. That's all you need to do, is get a message to him."

The young Adigeon did not reply, but shifted back into the shadows. Bashir twisted away from the youngster's hiding place, just as his captors were ready to complete another circular patrol. There had been no need to confirm their new-formed understanding.

Q'etu squirmed head first through a restrictive gap at the very end of the narrow vent. The chamber he entered was far more open - less heavily guarded by scanners and security barriers than any other exit that he knew. He clicked his tongue at the shock of cool air, which until that moment had been blocked by a smooth, dark wall. His people were accustomed to a warmer, more equatorial environment than could be found inside the old hospital's ventilation and temperature control conduits. But his stomach churned with the quiet, semi-illicit thrill.

He was a little hunched, sandwiched on each side by cold, semi-reflective and tarnished metal, and confined by a ceiling that had not quite reached the height of his head. A layer of oily residue had transferred to Q'etu's skin and the fabric of his outer garments, and still more was added as he left the narrow crawl-spaces behind.

The final exit beckoned from around the curve of the outer wall. Cool, insulated metal pressed close against his chest, but Q'etu was increasingly hunched as he sidestepped determinedly through the passage. But he would not be stuck within the wall. He had come this way many times before now.

A long-defunct security seal made the access panel difficult to locate, and brought an ache to the tips of his long fingers with every attempt to prise it open. Adigeon hands were flexible and dextrous, although not especially strong. But his large eyes were perfect for this dimmer environment, light-sensitive pigment on their outer membranes fading to transparency with the scarce illumination.

The hatch was barely higher than waist-level, but its removal brought an instant flood of natural light and a dull pain to his eyes - in the second before they darkened to compensate. Peering through the gap, and noting that his way was clear, he crawled head first through the last remaining barrier, and tumbled clumsily onto the spiralling outer ramp.

A shuttle sped through an upper-level thoroughfare, high above his head, but the streets below were as deserted as midday. Q'etu surveyed the cityscape, holding his breath. At times he had wondered if this quarter of the capital had always been so quiet. Would his luck desert him? But no others were passing on the ground-level roads, nor watching him from outside the neighbouring towers.

The pale Earth woman came into view as soon as Q'etu straightened to his full height and turned to see her approach. "I must find Naron," he told her, hesitating. He had been entrusted with an important missive - a responsibility easily equal to that of an adult.

The Human paused as she passed him in a slow journey down the spiral ramp - and turned, dark eyes never quite focused on the Adigeon boy - but somehow with her attention fixed upon him. Telepathy was not a natural ability in her species - Q'etu was certain. Humans could not even change their colours or produce the low sounds that his own people used to communicate their changing moods. But as he kept his focus on the still-silent woman, he was sure that she meant him to follow.