The suns shimmered as the heat rose and shimmered off of the ground. It played cruel tricks with the bodies, causing them to appear to move as if living. Sunrise came suddenly here but it was quiet, the dead rested peacefully at last.

The silence was disturbed by a sound of rushing wind; white dust billowed up fogging the landscape and partially covering the bodies, a fine film of dust that acted as a shroud to the corpses as a shuttle set down.

Hours earlier the runabout had been procured from salvage yard by two figures, but instead of the exchange of latinum the older of the two had handed off a stack of papers. They were taken with eagerness and quickly hidden under a uniform, then carefully skirting a Breen guard Julian had been taken to the shuttle. There was no time for more than a curt nod to his host before he was inside and powering up the engines. There was only a very limited window in which to achieve orbit while the sensor grid was down. That had cost him another sizable stack of his finely printed papers.

Bashir's face was tense and lined as he took off, constantly checking the controls for any sign he had been detected, but surprisingly he achieved orbit with no sign of pursuit.

Now was the hard part, he had to stay on the dark side of the moon to avoid sensor sweeps, it would be four long hours before he was supposed to get the signal to initiate landing on the hunk of rock .

Now that he had powered down there was nothing to do but wait. The darkness outside the shuttle pressed in on him making him feel isolated, alone.

He leaned his lanky form back and closed his eyes, battling with himself, trying to justify his actions.

'No one had to find out about it though, he rationalized, hadn't he been successful at keeping his genetic enhancements secret, was this so much more different?'

'Yes, he answered back with unflinching honesty, this was much, much different.'

His breath frosted in the air and he shivered as the shuttle grew cold, it was on minimal life support mode and the temperature would only continue to drop. Not enough to endanger him, but certainly cooler than was comfortable.

He took a deep shuddering breath, unbidden the memory of the purple scrap of cloth blowing in the dust surfaced. He grimaced.

That was what had set this betrayal in motion, a piece of purple cloth, or rather what the purple cloth had represented just a few seconds earlier.

It had been a person, a living breathing entity, clad in the medical garb of the hospital Joissa worked at, he brought news of Jadzia. He had seemed nervous when he had pulled Julian aside as he walked home from the hospital after a day of working.

He claimed he was a friend of Joissa's, and that he could tell him where Jadzia had been detained. She was on a labor detail on an asteroid. Something that people did not survive for more than a few weeks at the most, he also had managed to give the location of the runabout before a energy weapon connected with the man's back, the informant arched, his mouth open in a split second of agony before he seemed to fold upon himself and vanish, leaving only a scrap of dusty purple cloth as a sign he had lived.

Bashir had tensed and sprung behind a tree, but to his surprise there had been no signs that he was being targeted, no soldiers looming above him where he crouched. Disoriented he had stood back up, looking down the street, there was no sign of the murder. Just a chattering group of shoppers farther down the street, either unaware or ignoring the incident that had just happened.

After standing there collecting his thoughts exposed in the street in full view of anyone who might be waiting to attack him, he entered his hosts dwelling, a plan was forming, he did not share the news of the coworkers death, there was a far more important matter occupying his mind.

After a time of mental turmoil he had set his course, the only thing that remained was to enact the plan, and break almost every rule in Starfleet…

Bashir shook his head and ruffled his hair. He had been precise. Writing out schematics to various medical devises, the formula to achieve a pollydurinite a substance that made everything from chairs and Dabo tables to wall panels. Vaccines and medications to numerous to mention. Tricorder schematics, Even basic replicator technology. In effect, everything that he thought would be valuable information.

Except weapons. Never weapons. He pushed aside the knowledge that much of the information he had given could be stepping stones to advanced tactical applications. Medicine formulas for painless sedation could be easily concentrated and used as a poison… He had in effect given the Crina technology over a decade more advanced than they were ready for. Maybe more.

He tried to argue it was not as much of a violation of the prime directive at it seemed since the Breen had obviously been doing the same thing selectively for at least a decade.

But it did little to assuage his guilt at what he had done, though, given the choice he knew he would do it all over again to be able to reach Jadzia. He had used the papers as his currency to get what he needed. The Crina were eager for new technology, he could sense a undercurrent of unease at their unequal playing field with the Breen, They were on a unequal footing with the Breen, with the Breen becoming dangerously close to the line of being an 'occupying force'.

And there was a percentage of them that were trying to find ways to stop the encroaching species, they were eager for technology, for anything that might give them more of an even footing.

He found his papers to be wildly valuable, more than he had hoped they would be. Enough to secure his ship, ensure certain well timed malfunctions of the detection grids, and have Jadzia removed to a secluded location away from the work camp.

He would have liked to have had more medical supplies, but only the most basic supplies were procurable from the hospital. And those mostly consisted of liquid nutrients, thermal blankets and a few pillows and bandages. He would have to rely on the Starfleet issue medical supplies for the rest and hope they were enough. Luckily he had found them still intact, the shuttle had, to his surprise, not been scavenged. He even retained his tricorder.

It would have to be enough. During the time he waited he spent his time going over Trill physiology, he knew that effects of malnutrition and dehydration would be greatly accelerated. He sat on the edge of the seat, nervously jiggling his leg as he waited for the time to pass. His heart was racing and he was radiating nervous energy.

Then he got up and went to the back of the runabout preparing the crew quarters to serve as a medical unit. He replicated several bags of T.14 saline solution, the kind suitable for Trill physiology. He pulled out whatever he thought would be needed.

It frustrated him that he knew so little of what to expect of her condition. It could be almost anything, he did not like that, he dealt in certainties, facts, solid things that could be measured. Uncertainty was, uncomfortable.

It was almost intolerable to be waiting this long.

He also put together a quick bag of supplies and brought it to the front of the runabout, there was every chance that Jadzia could need immediate help, that he would not be in a position to run back and forth between the runabout controls and the medical quarters.

But at last, there was a soft beeping indicating that the timer had started, He sprang into motion, he had nine minutes to land, pick up Jadzia and then reach orbit, after that the grid would reactivate and he would be detected.

Nine minutes seemed tight when he factored in two minutes to land and three to take off, leaving him two hundred and forty seconds to locate and secure her in the shuttle.

But what was the use of being genetically enhanced if he could not depend on his superior analytical skills and speed? Surely they had to make some sort of a difference.

The runabout whirred to life and began its accent, when finding the exact coordinates he set down, thick white dust billowed around the shuttle making it hard to see as he landed. He cursed, he could not afford the precious seconds that reduced visibility could cost him.

(Two hundred and thirty two seconds.)He mentally counted.

He sprang out the shuttle as soon as the door opened, choking on the powder fine particulates. Then he saw it perilously close to his landing area, a humanoid form. He squinted through the dust as he ran. He wanted to call her name, but he could not risk it, he did not know if there were any close by to overhear. He slid to a stop, put his hand on her shoulder but she did not respond. Urgently he reached for her other shoulder and tugged her into a sitting position, or at least attempted to, he gave an involuntary groan as he recognized the full rigor mortis of a person long dead. Cursing the dust he wiped the face free and saw it was a Klingon female. He laid her back quickly but gently and sprang to his feet. Now the dust was clearing somewhat and he was assaulted with the smell of putrescence. He squinted and twisted around, he was in a field of death, there had to be hundreds of bodies of every species imaginable here, all dead, rotting, all covered in white.

He choked involuntarily.

(One hundred and eighty nine seconds.)

He quickly pulled out his tricorder and his fingers flew over it as he set in the parameters to scan for Trill life signs, furious with himself for not having done this in the shuttle, though he had no way of knowing that he was going to be searching a charnel field for her.

(One hundred and seventy one seconds.)

He started the devise scanning, but it was not picking up any life. He swore a Klingon oath that Jadzia would have been impressed at. It had to be that the dust was somehow interfering with his scans. He refused to consider the possibility that he might have the wrong location, or, that he could be too late.

(One hundred fifty five.)

Still there was nothing, he began running now, stepping around the bodies as best he could, eyes never off the scanner, there was no pattern to his run, it was a desperate race against time to cover as much ground as he could. Once he stumbled over a limb and fell, his tricorder sliding a few feet away, his fingers clawed and scratched at it as he fought to regain his footing. He did not look down to see what has caused him to fall.

Once he had it in his hands he was elated to see it was still functional,

(One hundred forty one)

He began to whirl on his heel, desperately making sweeps when there was a green light and a soft beep. His heart began to thud against his chest.

In that instant everything in the world stopped, shrank and became consolidated into that one light, that one sound.

He took off at a run to the farther end of the field, where next to a rock, in partial shade he could see the dusty colors of a Starfleet uniform. His breath was coming out in gasping sobs and he ran closer to her, the reading his tricorder was giving off was weak, much too weak, but still, he had found Jadzia Dax.

(One hundred two)

As a doctor he had a theoretical knowledge of severe starvation, he had read very scholarly papers and even thought about writing a few. But he was completely unprepared for the reality. The shock was not only the dismay of seeing his good friend in such a position, but the horror of realizing firsthand how depraved others could be. The gaunt figure in front of him almost bore no resemblance to the Jadzia Dax he knew, it was more of a stick figure, she was shaking, and her ribs were prominent with pronounced valleys in-between seen beneath the sheds of the uniform that hung about her. Her knees were swollen; highlighting the thin bones under, the only certain identification was the spots and the large blue eyes. Those he would know anywhere. In a second he had closed the space between them and was by her side, his hands touching her arm lightly, afraid of damaging her. She looked at him, there was no light shining from her eyes, she just was. He was not sure she even recognized him.

"Oh, Jadzia, "He whispered feeling overwhelmed by guilt that he managed to come though captivity in relative good health. He pulled her into his arms, she went limp. Her leathery skin was flaking and peeling, most of her spots seemed to have disappeared, bright pink wrinkled skin leaving testament to them having sloughed off. It was almost a relief she was unconscious, he did not want to think of the pain she was suffering from her peeling skin. Her tongue was turning slightly brown, with thick fuzz beginning to form, as sweet, alcoholic smell to her labored breath.

(Eighty four)

There was no time to asses her injuries, to give reassurances.

He scooped her up in his arms like a child and sprinted through the corpse toward the shuttle. A few time he stumbled heavily as he encountered an obstacle, but he never stopped running.

(Fifty nine)

He was almost there now.

(Fifty five)

The door opened. He ran in and hurriedly strapped Jadzia to the seat to keep her safe during takeoff. Almost anywhere he touched the thin fragile skin tore and bled, leaving Julian's hands slick as he fumbled with the buckles.

(Twenty)

He hit the control panel bringing it to life as it prepared to take off. He fastened his seatbelt and hit the final button in the ignition sequence and the shuttle began to rise.

(Eleven)

He exhaled. He had done it. Now he had to reach orbit and put a sufficient distance between him and the planet, and its mass transport drones.

As he made the necessary course corrections he kept looking over at Jadzia, but nothing changed, she was still slumped in her seat unconscious.

"Hurry up, Hurry up!" he willed the shuttle, speaking aloud in his impatience. The shuttle bumped and groaned as he pushed it to its limits, then began shaking, and finally, they were in orbit. Julian set in the course in the auto nav, then unstrapped himself and went to Jadzia's side, Very carefully, so as to not damage her skin more he unfastened her and wrapped her in a blanket and laid her down on the floor behind the pilots seat. She was so cold it frightened him; although he knew Trill physiology ran cooler than human, this was at dangerous levels.

"Computer, raise internal temperature by fifteen degrees."

He pulled out another blanket and covered her with it. Then a soft whirring filled the shuttle as he ran the tricorder over her. The results were chilling. Jadzia was near death, so close in fact that Julian was not sure he could pull her back.

She was in an advanced state of catabolysis, the process of a body breaking down its own muscles and other tissues in order to keep vital systems such as the nervous system and heart functioning. Vitamin deficiency, a common result of starvation, often leading to anemia and beriberi, was pronounced. He knew that these diseases collectively could also cause diarrhea, skin rashes, edema, and at worst, heart failure.

Quickly he grabbed a bag of compatible IV fluid and inserted the needle. His frustration began to mount; there were so many more ways he could help if he only had access to proper medical supplies.

Now that he had the time to fully asses her injuries he was appalled, he knew that she was vulnerable to starvation and dehydration being a Trill, but he was unprepared for this, there was so much devastation ravishing her body. He fumbled with trying to keep the IV bag elevated, finally clipping it on the back of a seat. The next thing to be addressed was cleaning the infected wounds on her body. It would have been so much easier if he had his auto-sterilizer, but all he had was water and sterilization fluid.

The first thing he had to do was get surgical scissors and cut off her uniform from her back, it had become crusted over with dried blood and infection, it was necessary to use some warm water to loosen the fabric, her skin was so delicate that if he were to pull too hard in trying to remove it he might well tear her skin further.

He pushed all emotion deep inside himself; he could not afford the luxury of emotion.

He had to be swift and clinical, once the fabric had been removed he began the labor intensive task of cleaning the wounds, dispassionately he noted that she had been subjected to multiple beatings, some lacerations were fresher than others. When he had cleaned one he would use the dermal regenerator to heal and close the wound, then progress to the next. He looked up to check the IV and noticed that it was almost empty; he quickly set up another one.

Once her back was completed he turned his attention to the symbiont , it was weak, clearly in distress, dying, really. But there was nothing he could do. If he removed it would certainly die, if he left it in there was always the chance that Jadzia's body could sustain it. A slim chance, one that seemed more tenuous every passing moment. The worst of her wounds treated he began to apply salve to every part of her body that he could reach at the moment. The skin under his hands seemed more reptilian than humanoid at the moment it was so dry and scaly. It was frustratingly slow, he could only use the lightest touch and even then Jadzia began to moan fitfully from the pain, her eyelids quivered as she approached consciousness. Julian sped up his ministrations wanting to be done by the time she fully regained consciousness.