Another crosspost from my AO3 works. This one's a WIP, so once I get this one uploaded, it'll be updated at the same time as the AO3 version. The character of Beckett Mariner is from Star Trek: Lower Decks, by the way.
Hope you enjoy!
At first, Quark thought nothing of the five men when they came in.
Sure, they looked a little strange for humans. One of the men, a younger one maybe about Nog's age, had silver hair and violet eyes (in fact, all but two of the men had violet eyes). Another man wore eyeglasses, a rarity for humans, unless they were doing it for fashion or holosuite purposes. And judging by the men's attire, some type of ancient Earth getup, complete with fierce-looking weapons, they had come to Quark's for just that.
Quark's hunch was correct. One of them, a blonde with unruly hair and an ax strapped onto his back, approached the bar and asked for three hours in the holosuite with some program called the Viking program.
Quark happily obliged. So long as he was getting latinum, he would indulge these odd human men. He dug the holoprogram out of his collection (now that he thought about it, he recalled Bashir and O'Brien using this holoprogram a few times), got the man's thumbprint on his payment device, and told them to enjoy the holosuite.
The men went up the stairs to their holosuite and disappeared into it, and Quark thought nothing else of them, diverting his attention to his other customers. As the night was getting late, more and more people were coming to his establishment, seeking an outlet from the stresses of their work day. Soon, all the holosuites were occupied and the dabo tables busy, with plenty more people at the bar and at the tables, drinking and dining and being merry.
Maybe twenty minutes after Quark gave the men their holosuite, the man with the wild hair reappeared at the bar.
"Excuse me, bartender," he said, tapping his hand on the bar. "But do you have some akvavit?" His voice slipped out of Standard as he said akvavit, pronouncing the word in a foreign accent that Quark guessed was of one of Earth's many mother tongues.
Quark blinked. "Akva-what?"
"Akvavit. A-K-V-A-V-I-T. It's an Earth drink. Do you have any? I would like some."
"Let me check the replicator database," Quark mumbled, then turned around and put the name into the replicator's database. Sure enough, there was a match. "Huh. Never heard of it before. One glass of akvavit, coming right up. I'll add it to your tab."
He replicated a glass of it and slid it across the counter to the man, who snatched it up and took a swig, before spitting it right back out, a grimace on his face.
"Yuck! Is this synthehol?" The man spat the word synthehol the same way he spat out the drink, like it was made of poison.
"The replicator only makes synthehol, I'm afraid," Quark responded. "And I don't have any real akvavit. I can get you something else if you'd like. You'd have to pay for it, of course."
The man slammed the glass back down onto the counter. "That's not a problem. What real Earth drinks do you have?"
"A lot. We have several wines, beers, brandy, root beer, vodka–"
"I'll take some vodka. A shot or two."
"Two shots of vodka coming up." Quark turned around and poured the man two shots of vodka from the bottle of it he kept behind the bar. The man took a cautious sip of one of the glasses, before throwing back the rest of the shot.
"Ah! Much better. I can't stand that replicated crap." He looked at Quark, sliding the empty shot glass over to him. "You know, you should really get some genuine akvavit. It would really make people happy."
"You're the only person who has ever ordered it here," Quark replied, taking the empty glass and putting it in the pile of glasses to be cleaned. "I only stock stuff that people actually order."
The man rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I have a few authentic bottles on our ship. I just wanted to see if I could get some here." He downed his other shot and slid the shot glass over. "Thank you, Mister…."
"Quark. And you are?"
The man smiled, a dazzling, charismatic smile. "I'm Mathias Densen."
Quark smiled back, giving him a curt nod as he added the two shots and glass of akvavit to Mathias' tab. "It's always nice to meet a customer."
Mathias gave him a little salute, then whirled around and went back up the stairs to the holosuites.
Not even thirty minutes later, Mathias returned, this time asking for three shots of vodka. Then, twenty-so minutes after that, he asked for three more. And then again. And then again. Every time he showed up at the bar, he appeared more and more intoxicated, slurring his words and stumbling around. The final time he showed up, he had one of his companions, a lithe man with a cross-shaped pin in his hair, with him to help him walk.
"Mathias, these will be the last drinks you order tonight," Mathias' companion said as Quark slid three shot glasses across the counter to Mathias, who chugged them down. "At least with our help. If you want to order any more, which I highly discourage, seeing the state you're in, you're on your own."
Mathias garbled something barely intelligible. Quark had seen some highly intoxicated humans over the years, and he could tell that Mathias was reaching the upper limit of drunkenness, where the next step would be a trip to the infirmary for alcohol poisoning.
The man just rolled his eyes, ordered a beer from Quark, which Quark happily supplied, and helped Mathias maneuver up the stairs and back into the holosuite. A group of Starfleet officers walked up to the bar then, and Quark serviced them, temporarily forgetting all about the drunken human man.
After the group was satisfied, Chief O'Brien came in and sat at the bar, also ordering a beer. He and Quark had a brief conversation, in which Quark learned that he was waiting for Dr. Bashir to finish up work in sick bay so they could play darts together.
A young woman, a Starfleet ensign by the name of Beckett Mariner, also entered, much to Quark's displeasure. She got obnoxious when she was drunk (and when she wasn't), and month after month promised to pay her bar tab but never did. Nonetheless, Quark let her order a drink and some credits for the dabo table from him, and she skipped over to the dabo tables, leaving him in peace.
Twenty minutes later, Quark's advanced Ferengi hearing picked up Mathias' voice again, over the din of the bar.
"One more shot! I promise this will be the last one! Pleeeaaase?"
The man who had accompanied Mathias to the bar spoke. "Absolutely not. You can hardly stand on your own. We're taking you back to the ship."
Mathias' voice took on a stubborn tone. "I'm not going back to the ship! I'm perfectly fine! I want one more shot, and then I'll be done for the night."
Up on the balcony, Mathias and his friends came into Quark's view. The man with the cross pin was still helping Mathias walk, and the other three men flanked him, looking at their companion with worried expressions, except for the man with the eyeglasses, who wasn't showing any emotion on his face. In fact, in the time that Quark had seen him, he hadn't shown any emotion at all. Quark wondered if he was part Vulcan or something.
The man with the eyeglasses spoke, addressing Mathias. His voice was deep and he mumbled his words. "You're not fine. You can barely walk."
Mathias huffed. "Bullshit! I can walk just fine. Watch me!"
With surprising force, he shoved the man with the hairpin away, causing him to stumble, and walked over to the railing of the balcony, which he leaned against.
"I. Can. Walk!" Mathias yelled, causing several patrons of Quark's to look over at him. "Now, excuse me, I'm going to go get a drink from my dear friend Quark downstairs. He's been soooo much nicer to me tonight than you guys. He'll let me get another shot. Unlike you lame-os."
Quark raised an eyebrow ridge at that.
O'Brien, eyeing Mathias, leaned towards Quark. "Dear friend?"
Quark gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. "He seems to think so. I don't know. I just met him tonight."
Mathias moved towards the stairs from the railing, but before he could get far, his four friends had him surrounded again.
"You're not taking the stairs," one of the men, a blonde with violet eyes said, placing his hand on Mathias' shoulder. "We're taking the turbo-lift, and then we're taking you back to the ship."
"FUCK OFF!" Mathias shouted. More patrons looked over at him, including Morn, who gave him a judgmental stare from the end of the bar. "I'm not going back to the ship! You can't make me!"
"Yes we can," the man with glasses said.
Mathias gasped. "Is that a challenge, Berwald?" With surprisingly deft hands for his level of intoxication, he took the ax strapped onto his back and pointed it at the man, Berwald, according to him. Drunken fury flashed in his eyes. "You'll have to fight me to take me back!"
The blonde man with the violet eyes tried to wrestle the ax out of Mathias' grip. "I'll be taking that."
"NO!"
Mathias swung the ax at the man with a mighty roar. The man managed to dodge the swing. The ax flew out of Mathias' loose grip, rotating in the air a few times before lodging itself into a wall.
A gasp went up around the bar as the ax flew through the air and hit the wall. Now, nearly everyone's eyes were on Mathias, staring at him in mixes of shock, fear, and annoyance.
A wave of nervousness washed over Quark.
Crap. Please don't fight. You'll scare all the customers away and then Odo will come and blame all of this on me somehow.
Quark's silent plea was useless. He could only watch in horror as Mathias elbowed the blonde man who tried to take his ax aside and charged at Berwald, giving him a swift punch to the jaw. Berwald stumbled backwards against the railing, and Mathias took the chance to charge at him again, body-slamming him.
The two men pitched backwards and fell off the balcony. Berwald landed on a dabo table, which buckled under his weight, and Mathias landed right on top of him. A sickening crack, probably Berwald's ribs, was heard. The patrons at the dabo table, including Ensign Mariner, scrambled backwards in shock, and a dabo girl screamed out.
Quark's nervousness turned to fury at seeing the destruction of his property.
"You're paying for that!" He roared at Mathias, coming out from behind the bar and pointing at him. "I'm putting that on your tab! Dabo tables aren't cheap!"
O'Brien sighed and tapped his combadge. "O'Brien to Security. There's a fight at Quark's."
"On my way," Odo's voice responded, sounding mildly irritated as usual. Quark groaned upon hearing it.
Mathias punched Berwald again, who didn't respond. Either he was unconscious or close to it. "Fuck you, Berwald!" He yelled, his words barely comprehensible.
He swung his fist back to strike again, but Mariner caught it with surprising strength.
"Dude. You need to chill out. You won the fight. Go get your drink or whatever."
Mathias wrenched his hand out of hers, glaring at her. "Stay out of this! I am Denmark, the King of Scandinavia! No one tells me what to do!"
Or at least it sounded like he said something like that. His speech was still slurred.
Out of the corner of his eye, still up on the second floor, Quark saw Mathias' other three companions wince.
Mariner put her hands up in surrender and backed up. "Okay, wow, y-you're crazy. Have fun getting arrested by Security."
As if on cue, Odo and two Bajoran security officers stormed into the bar. O'Brien got up and pointed to Mathias.
"Him right there. Attacked the other guy. He's drunk as hell."
Odo marched up to Mathias, pulling him off of Berwald. "Alright, pal, you're coming with me. You can sleep it off in the drunk tank."
Mathias and Berwald's three friends seemingly unfroze, and they rushed down the stairs.
"Are you arresting him?" The man with the hairpin asked Odo.
Odo scoffed. "Of course I am. Public intoxication and assault."
"Add destruction of property to his charges," Quark called out, gesturing to the broken dabo table.
"Ha ha, losers!" Mathias laughed, suddenly gleeful. "I'm not going back to the ship!"
"No, you're going to a holding cell. Let's go." Holding his shoulders, Odo started to march Mathias away.
The blonde man with the violet eyes cut in front of Odo and Mathias. "Look, we're really sorry for his behavior. It was our fault he got so drunk and got carried away. We take full responsibility for his behavior. Just please don't arrest him."
Odo scoffed again at the man's audacity. "Your friend here was the one who chose to get so drunk and to attack someone, not you. And it will be him who suffers the consequences."
"Please let him go," the blonde man pleaded. "We promise that we won't cause any more trouble for the time we're on this station. Just don't arrest him."
Odo glared at him. "What kind of head of security would I be if I just let everyone go because someone asked me nicely to not arrest them? The station would fall into chaos. He committed the crimes and he will be facing the consequences for his crimes. End of story."
"But–"
"No buts. Unless you want to join him in a holding cell."
The man looked away. "No, sir. I understand."
Odo nodded at him. "I'm glad we could come to an understanding. You can come get your friend out in the morning."
Odo continued to march Mathias out of Quark's and to the security office. Surprisingly, Mathias didn't put up much of a fight, acquiescing and letting Odo take him away.
"Are you going to charge him for destroying my dabo table?" Quark asked.
Odo just gave an amused scoff and shook his head, a smirk on his claylike lips, before vanishing with Mathias into the Promenade corridor.
Quark sighed. "Fine. I'll do it myself. A couple of bars ought to cover it."
He went back to behind the bar, where he picked up his payment device and typed something into it, mumbling to himself.
At the broken dabo table, Mariner and O'Brien were helping Berwald to his feet, letting him lean on them for support. He was conscious, although he looked dazed and his face had angry red marks on it. His glasses were crooked, as was his nose, which was dripping blood.
Mariner and O'Brien steered him towards the door of the bar, presumably taking him to the infirmary. His three companions took notice of this and raced after them as they disappeared out into the corridor.
The normal activities of the bar continued, the dabo players affected by the destruction of their table simply moving to another one. All those who had been watching the scene play out found other things to occupy their attention, or went back to what they were doing before the fight broke out. Within a few minutes, the only evidence left of the altercation was the broken dabo table and Mathias's ax, still stuck in the wall on the second floor.
Quark finished updating Mathias' tab and put down the payment device with another exasperated sigh. Morn, who had silently watched the entire event from his seat at the bar, gave Quark an inquiring look.
Quark just sighed once more and shook his head, his gaze flickering to the ax in the wall, then letting it settle on the broken dabo table. "Hu-mons."
—-
Odo led the drunken man down the Promenade and to his office, where he maneuvered him into one of the holding cells in the brig. The brig itself was empty, the station having been mostly peaceful and crime-free lately. It was unusual, but Odo wasn't complaining, even if it meant that he was often bored.
The man was having significant trouble walking at this stage, despite having just beat another man up with ease, and he practically used Odo as a crutch the entire way to the brig. Odo was half-tempted to just turn into a wheelchair and wheel the man to the brig, but he kept his humanoid form the entire way.
The man had babbled initially to Odo, switching to a gibberish that even the universal translator couldn't translate, but as they got closer to the security office, his words slowed and his eyes got droopy and half-focused as the initial rush of energy from whatever alcohol he had consumed wore off. By the time Odo sat him down on the bed inside the holding cell, he was falling asleep.
"May I get your name, please? I need to book you."
The man mumbled something Odo didn't quite catch.
"Pardon?"
No response. The man was sound asleep, slumping over onto the bed.
Odo sighed, stepping out of the holding cell and putting the force field back in place. "Computer, identify the individual inside Holding Cell One."
The computer did its usual beep, before it spoke in its usual feminine but robotic tone that Odo always thought sounded a lot like Lwaxana Troi.
"Unable to comply. Records require security clearance Eta 7 to access. Contact Starfleet Headquarters for additional information."
Odo blinked. "What?"
"Unable to comply. Records require se–"
"Yeah, yeah, I know that," Odo interrupted, silencing the computer. He put his hand to his chin in thought, looking over the man sleeping in his cell. "Hm."
He seemed ordinary for a human, if he was indeed human. He looked and acted just like a human, albeit one who had too much to drink. He was dressed a bit strangely, in a light blue tunic with a brown belt tied around his waist, white pants, leather shoes, with a leather strap slung over his shoulder, clothing Odo guessed was for the holosuite, but other than that, there was nothing remarkable about him. He was…normal.
In the brief time that he got to talk to the man and his companions, they didn't come off as Starfleet officers, or as anyone that Starfleet would have much of an interest in. They just seemed like normal humans, except for a few of the men's abnormal eye and hair colors.
Odo remembered the men's adamance that the man in the cell not be arrested, and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Hm."
Did the men…know this would happen when Odo arrested him?
Odo had many questions. But first, he wanted to know the man's name so he could make a note of his crimes.
He tapped his combadge. "Odo to Quark."
A few moments later, Quark responded, the noise of the bar in the background. "If this is about the fight at my bar, I didn't start it. It had nothing to do with me."
"My question is about the fight, but right now, I don't care who started it," Odo responded. "Do you know the name of the man I just arrested? He passed out before I could ask."
"Don't you have computers for that type of information?" Quark snarkily asked.
"Just answer the question," Odo growled. He wasn't in the mood to play one of Quark's little games.
Quark was silent for a few moments. Odo could practically hear the Ferengi's brain processing the information and realizing that something was off. He hated to admit it, but Quark was right. Odo usually could use the station's computers to get the man's identity.
"His name is Mathias Densen," Quark said slowly, suspicion radiating from his words.
"Thank you. That's all the information I need at the moment."
Odo exited the brig area, returning to his office. He picked up his tablet and made the following note for his own personal records:
Mathias Densen arrested at 23:09 for public intoxication and assault. Currently being held in Holding Cell One.
Satisfied, he put the tablet down and hunkered down in his office chair. "Computer, current time."
"Current time is twenty-three hours, fifteen minutes, twelve seconds."
It was late. Captain Sisko was most likely in bed. Odo would have to tell him about Mathias in the morning. Odo could not contact Starfleet directly and inquire about Mathias' redacted record, but Sisko could.
Odo leaned back further into the chair. He wondered where Mathias got to the station, what ship he had come in on. Perhaps knowing that could shed some light onto the situation.
Perhaps there were people he could ask about the man.
Activating his computer terminal, he began to sift through all the recent ship manifests.
—-
Doctor Julian Bashir did not want to spend his evening testing neutrophil specimens, but alas, it was what had to be done.
There was some disease affecting the immune cells of the Bolians on the station, and they wanted a cure, and they wanted it immediately. So Julian had to stay late and test the cure he had concocted.
He was supposed to meet Chief O'Brien for a game of darts at Quark's, something they often did, but this particular night, he would be late. O'Brien had come by earlier and asked if Julian was finished, and he had to unfortunately tell him that he would be running late for their game.
He sat alone in the infirmary, dropping droplets of the liquid cure medicine he had created for the disease into the Petri dishes of immune cells, then observing what happened under a microscope.
His cure finally seemed to be effective, after much trial and error. The affected immune cells all returned to their original states upon contact with the medicine.
Julian smiled to himself. His work was nearly done. All he had to do now was set the replicator up to make a lot of the medicine, put it in the infirmary freezer for storage, and then he'd be free to play darts with O'Brien.
He put the vial of the medicine inside the replicator, then tapped instructions for the replicator out on its control panel.
In the distance, sounding like it was from Quark's, a man's yells reached Julian's ears. A minute later, there was a loud crash and surprised shouts, including a woman's scream.
With a beep, the replicators began replicating more vials full of the medicine. As soon as they were replicated, Julian transferred them to the freezer for storage.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Odo and two Bajoran security officers running past the entrance to the infirmary.
Julian sighed and hoped that whatever the hell was going on at Quark's, that it did not involve O'Brien and that it would not make more additional work for him.
"Never a dull moment on the station," he muttered to himself as he continued transferring the replicated vials to the freezer.
A few minutes later, the relative silence of the infirmary was broken by the sounds of people bickering just outside its entrance.
An unknown male voice was speaking. "Look, we appreciate you bringing him to the infirmary, but he doesn't need it. We have a bio-bed on our ship, and dermal regenerators. Please let us take him back to our ship."
O'Brien's voice replied. "Does your ship have a chief medical officer? Or anyone with medical training?"
"No, but–"
"I promise, Julian's a great guy. He'll take great care of Berwald."
Another male voice spoke, this one much lower than the first man's voice. "I don't need the infirmary."
A young woman's voice cut in, one Julian recognized as belonging to Ensign Beckett Mariner. She was often in the infirmary with broken bones and injuries from her holosuite programs.
"Dude, you can hardly walk on your own. And that's like, what, the third time you've said that exact sentence? I think you have a head injury."
Julian put the vials he was holding into the freezer and walked to the entrance of the infirmary. "What's this I'm hearing about a head injury?"
The sight of Mariner and O'Brien holding up a tall man with eyeglasses and dressed in some type of medieval European costume greeted Julian. His nose was crooked and a stream of blood dribbled from it, a droplet falling to the infirmary's floor. He also had a red mark on his jaw and cheek in the vague shape of a fist, as if someone had punched him.
"Berwald here got into a fight at Quark's," Mariner explained. "Got body-slammed off the second floor balcony right onto a dabo table."
Julian winced. "Oof. That explains the loud crash I heard earlier."
Mariner jerked her free hand's thumb behind her. "And these three don't want him to come here."
Behind Mariner, Berwald, and O'Brien were three men, dressed similarly to Berwald. Two of them were blonde, while one of them had silver locks.
One of the blonde men spoke up. He was the first voice that Julian had heard. "It's late and we don't want to bother you. We have medical equipment on our ship."
His eyes, an unusual shade of purple, locked with Julian's brown ones. "Please."
Julian's eyes flickered back to Berwald. The man seemed stoic, but Julian could tell that he was in some degree of pain. In addition, his own gaze was unfocused and a bit dazed.
Julian looked back at the man and shook his head. "If he has a head injury, then I want to examine him. I can also fix his nose and that mark on his jaw. It won't take me long, I promise."
He looked back at Mariner, Berwald, and O'Brien. "Put him on a bio-bed."
O'Brien and Mariner nodded and began maneuvering Berwald over to the nearest bio-bed.
The man with the silver hair huffed. "I'm going back to the ship. I'm not sticking around for the aftermath of this."
He stalked off, cloak billowing behind him. The other blonde man, who had a cross-shaped pin in his hair, watched the man with the silver hair walk away, then turned to the other man.
"I think it would be wise for me to go with him."
The man nodded, gaze cast downward in thought, and the man with the hairpin left.
After a moment, he looked back up, addressing Julian. "Tell Berwald that we'll meet him back on the ship once he's done."
His words were short and clipped, and his tone of voice sounded almost defeated.
Julian nodded. "I will."
The man nodded back, before turning on his heel and walking away in the same direction the other two men went, leaving Julian alone with Mariner, Berwald, and O'Brien.
"What's their deal?" Mariner asked as she and O'Brien helped Berwald sit onto the bio-bed. O'Brien just made a confused face and shrugged.
The bio-bed's display screen turned on as it scanned Berwald's body, before turning red. A notice popped up on the display:
"Medical records and information for this individual require security clearance Eta 7 to access. Contact Starfleet Headquarters for more information."
Berwald's gaze rested on the screen briefly, then flickered away. He said nothing.
O'Brien looked even more confused. "What's this supposed to mean?"
"It means," Julian said quietly as he processed the information, hand coming to his chin in thought, "that Berwald's medical information and records are classified. And I don't have access to them."
Mariner's eyes widened. "Oh, those guys who just left definitely knew about this. That's why they were so insistent on not coming."
"I said I didn't need the infirmary," Berwald mumbled, staring at the wall in front of him.
"You knew this would happen too, didn't you?" Julian asked.
Berwald nodded. "Yes."
Julian had a hypothesis. He got closer to Berwald, lowering his voice. "Berwald, are you…an augment?"
Berwald shook his head. "No."
Julian nodded. "I see." He picked up a medical tricorder from a nearby table. "The good news is, I can still treat you. The bio-bed may not give me information about you, but this medical tricorder will."
Berwald said nothing. He didn't seem like much of a talkative person.
Julian scanned him with the tricorder. "Hm. Looks like you have a mild concussion, some broken ribs, a broken nose, and some bruising, especially on your back and face. Quick fixes, though you should definitely take it easy the next few days. No more bar brawls."
"In his defense, he didn't start the fight," Mariner said.
Julian put the medical tricorder down and picked up the dermal regenerator, first working on the mark on Berwald's face, which had started to turn purple as it bruised. Once he was done with that, he instructed Berwald to remove his shirt and worked on the bruises on his back. Berwald's torso had many scars, some looking nastier than others. Julian wondered how he got them.
He then switched the dermal regenerator out for the osseous regenerator, for his broken ribs, before turning to O'Brien and Mariner, who stood by, watching Julian heal the man. "This part usually takes a while. You're free to leave."
O'Brien shrugged. "It's not like I have anything better to do. Plus, we're still playing darts, right?"
"We are. Once Berwald's all healed and once I've put all the vials of Bolian medicine away in the freezer."
"I think I'll leave," Mariner said, stretching. "As much as I enjoy staring at Berwald shirtless, I have some dabo credits from Quark's that need to be spent."
Julian's jaw dropped at the audacity of Mariner's statement. "Mariner!"
Mariner just shrugged. "Later!"
She left the infirmary, presumably heading back to Quark's.
Julian stared at her retreating back, before scoffing. "That woman flirts with anything with a pulse, I swear!"
"That reminds me of someone I know," O'Brien said with a knowing look and a smirk.
Julian frowned. "Oh, shut up."
Berwald said nothing, but he did appear to be blushing slightly.
Julian started running the osseous regenerator over Berwald's broken ribs, the medical tricorder in his other hand. Several minutes later, the tricorder beeped, indicating that his ribs were fully healed.
Julian frowned.
"What is it?" O'Brien asked.
"Usually, it takes a lot longer for bones to regenerate using this," Julian said, squinting at the tricorder, before looking at Berwald. "You healed unusually quickly, Berwald."
The man shrugged his shoulders. "I'm tough."
Julian started working on Berwald's broken nose and sure enough, it healed quicker than usual. "Berwald, are you sure you're not an augment?"
"I'm not an augment."
"You heal awfully quick for a human," Julian pointed out.
Berwald blinked. "Like I said, I'm tough."
"That you are," Julian responded, though he was still suspicious. Redacted medical records and quicker-than-normal healing? Something was definitely up with the man.
After doing a quick neurologic function test on Berwald, which he passed with flying colors, Julian went and got a hypospray, which he injected into his neck. "This should help with any swelling of the brain that happens with mild concussions like yours. You're free to go now. If you suddenly start feeling worse or you get other symptoms, please contact me. I may not have access to your records but I'll do the best I can."
Berwald nodded and stood up, putting his shirt back on. "Thank you, doctor." Once his shirt was back on, he gave Julian and O'Brien a polite nod before exiting the infirmary.
"Well, that was strange," O'Brien commented. "Strange man. Strange situation."
Julian nodded, looking back at the bio-bed's display screen. The message was still there, bathing the immediate area in red light. "I think I'll be contacting Captain Sisko in the morning about this."
"Good call. The message does say to contact Starfleet Headquarters. Sisko can do that."
Julian nodded again, lost in thought. "I'd love to find out who Berwald is. Or, what he is."
O'Brien suddenly pointed to a spot on the infirmary floor, by the entrance. "Wait. That's his blood right there, isn't it? From his nose earlier. Could you take his DNA from it?"
Julian's eyes lit up as he saw the spot of blood. "I can try. The cells are probably dead, but with any luck, the DNA in them should be intact. I can analyze it tomorrow."
He rushed into his office, grabbing a test sample kit, before going over to the spot and scraping it into the kit. Once the sample was collected, he went and put it on his desk, before returning to the replicator and resuming replicating the medicine for the Bolians.
O'Brien watched him, a frown on his face. "Uh…what about darts?"
Julian froze. "Right. Darts. Once I'm done with this, we can play darts."
O'Brien just sighed. "Can't you do this later?"
Julian stayed frozen, thinking it over, before sighing back and putting the vials he was holding in the freezer. "Alright. Fine. Let's play darts."
He turned off the replicator, before following O'Brien out of the infirmary.