The Lithar's blue-skinned captain adjusted the straps of her bag, the reassuring weight anchoring her as she prepared to disembark. A few strands of her white hair slipped from her bun and she pushed them away from her face. She crouched to the level of her lone crewmate, a young boy with the lingering softness of infancy still visible on his chubby cheeks. As he stretched his arms towards her, his eyes heavy with sleep, she scooped him up, but not before she felt the warmth of his fever on her cool hand.

"You're going to be okay, you hear?" she reassured him, her voice edged with the steel of a captain and the gentleness of a concerned caretaker. "You're my brave little astronaut." She gently pulled the hood of his jacket over his green-black hair.

The boy babbled some incoherent response and nuzzled his small head against her shoulder. She steeled herself, turning towards the airlock hatch as the disembarkation instructions echoed from the station's computer.

The airlock door slid open, the overhead lights stinging her eyes. She blinked against the brightness, her surprise evident as she saw a small welcoming party waiting for them.

"Welcome to DS9," a figure in a teal-accented Starfleet uniform extended a hand. His lean figure stood taller than her own, if only just barely. Behind him, a few other Starfleet officers stood attentively, the uniforms accented with different colors. "I'm Dr. Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer. I hear somebody is feeling under the weather?"

"N'ivryn," she introduced herself, then with a nod, "and this is Kallim." As if on cue, the boy in her arms coughed heavily onto her chest.

"I'm sorry our first encounter is under these circumstances. Sounds like someone's had a rough morning." Julian swiftly brandished his tricorder, recording initial readings while keeping his tone light. The boy didn't rouse at the beeps and trills but did let out another cough. "We can transport you to the infirmary if you'd like. It's a bit of a walk."

"No need, Doctor. We've been cooped up long enough," N'ivryn said with a half-smile. "A walk sounds good."

The pair ventured through the bustling station while Julian's charismatic charm easily forged a path through the crowd. "I take it this is your first time here?"

"It's my first time in this sector, to be honest."

"I'm not surprised. I can't say we get a huge number of Andorians all the way out here. Though I wouldn't be surprised if there are some on the next Gamma Quadrant expedition. Have you seen it yet?"

"Seen it?"

"The Wormhole," Julian clarified. "It's a beautiful sight. Descriptions never do it justice. The upper level of the Promenade has a spectacular view."

"I'll make a note of it, thank you," N'ivryn answered, her tone appreciative.

"How long do you plan to stay?"

"Just until Kallim's health improves," she answered. "I'm expected back on Andoria as soon as possible. I wasn't planning on making any stops but his condition seemed to be worsening and I didn't want to risk it."

"It's probably for the best that you stopped in. It's a long way yet to Andoria, and things can get a bit isolated out here in deep space. I'll try not to hold you up too long. Can you tell me a little bit about his symptoms?"

N'ivryn's gaze scanned the array of Bajorans, Humans, and Ferengi as they moved along the Promenade. Her hand moved soothingly over Kallim's back. "Well, the coughing, of course. Difficulty breathing, a persistent fever, fatigue, insomnia. Oh, and a rash on his chest."

The infirmary doors opened with a soft whoosh as Julian's brow furrowed in thought. "And how long has this been ongoing?"

"About two months," N'ivryn answered.

"Two months?" Julian almost came to a stop. He gestured to his nurses to attend to other tasks, then turned his attention back to N'ivryn.

"I'm behind schedule as it is. I was hoping to avoid any unnecessary stops."

Julian guided them to the empty exam chair and fetched his diagnostic tools. "Like I said, we don't exactly get a lot of Andorians out this way. None that stay very long, anyway, mostly just freighters stopping through. But I can assure you I've got plenty of experience with the physiology. One of my best friends at the Academy was actually an Ando–"

Julian's words faded in his mouth as he properly set eyes on his young patient for the first time. N'ivryn had placed him on the exam chair and was gently lowering his hood. It revealed a forehead of dark curls, pale blue skin, and no hallmark Andorian antennae to be found.

"I suppose I should have clarified," she apologized.

"No need," Julian answered, regaining his professional and upbeat demeanor. "I shouldn't have assumed. I saw the blue skin and automatically jumped to conclusions. I take it then you are not related?"

"No," she confirmed. "I…came across some wreckage a few months ago. The automated distress call was stuck on a loop and everything had already been scavenged. I'm not sure why I bothered to stop, really. But I guess it was fate because by some miracle I found him locked away, undiscovered. Whoever had picked over the rest of the ship must've been in a hurry. I figured it was only a matter of time until they came back, so I took him with me hoping I might come across the rest of his people."

"But no luck?"

"No," she sighed. "No one has any clue what planet he might be from or what species he is. And he's so young that all I've been able to get from him is his name."

"Hm," Julian mused. He waved his tricorder up and down the boy's torso in slow, arcing movements. "And where was this wreckage you found?"

N'ivryn hesitated before answering. "It was out past the Badlands. A week, at least."

The doctor's curiosity was piqued. "Why, that must be over halfway to Breen space."

N'ivryn merely nodded, her silence heavy.

"That's quite the scout mission. What interest would Andoria have all the way out there?"

N'ivryn remained quiet, not volunteering an answer.

"Seems like an awfully long journey for a crew of one," Julian continued.

"It was all that was required."

Undeterred, he put aside the tricorder and turned his attention to the unusual readings emanating from the biobed sensor readouts. "You mentioned a rash?"

As N'ivryn undid Kallim's jacket and undershirt, Julian noticed the deep purple blotches on his chest. He could see the worry lines etched on N'ivryn's face as she whispered comforting words to the boy. "Has he had these since the beginning?"

"No, just in the last week or two. They seem to be painful to touch, but he's always so cold that I've had to keep the jacket on him."

"Whatever it is, it's definitely targeting the respiratory system. Or rather, should I say systems…" Julian trailed. Kallim's breathing had begun to steady, but each one rattled loudly within his chest. With each labored inhale, small slits opened and closed on either side of the boy's neck. "His species clearly has an aquatic heritage."

"Intertwined lung and gill based systems," N'ivryn interjected just as Bashir was about to say the same thing. "At first I suspected infection and tried synthesizing antimicrobial peptides."

"Interesting," Bashir mused. "Some aquatic organisms do naturally produce antimicrobial peptides that provide broad-spectrum activity against bacteria, viruses, and fungi. It's possible that's a characteristic his species possesses but wasn't effective enough in his case."

"Yes, that was my theory. But unfortunately it didn't seem to provide him any relief. After a week of no improvement I stopped the treatment."

"The sensors are definitely picking up elevated inflammation and white blood cell levels, which does point towards an infection. If it's not microbial," Bashir said, still halfway lost in thought, "then perhaps it's viral. It appears their lungs and gills might possess different sets of pattern recognition receptors, potentially leading to varying responses to airborne and aquatic pathogens."

"You mean because of the mucosal-associated lymphoid tissue?"

The comment pulled Bashir from his theorizing. "You're well-informed. Are you in the medical field?"

"No, I'm not," N'ivryn confessed. "I've just tried to learn what I can. Being alone, you encounter all sorts of things. But I'll admit, this situation has exceeded my capabilities."

Julian understood her plight–the desperation of trying to help someone, yet not having the right tools. "You did your best, and now you're here. DS9's medical staff and I have a wealth of experience and all of Starfleet's knowledge at our disposal. Believe it or not, unusual cases are pretty standard here. He's in good hands."

N'ivryn took a moment before responding. "If it's viral, like you say, do you know how to treat it?"

"Well, given that he's an unfamiliar species, we'll have to proceed carefully. Our standard treatments could have unforeseen consequences. But don't worry, we have a lot more tests to conduct. We'll find the right approach, it might just take time."

After a pause, Julian added, "In the meantime, you should get some rest. For food I suggest the Replimat, or Quark's if you prefer it. You must be exhausted."

N'ivryn's head shot up. "Can I not stay with him?"

"I understand your worry," Julian replied gently, "but my staff and I need space to work efficiently. You'll be the first to know of any updates, I promise."

N'ivryn protested, perhaps a touch forcefully. "He's my responsibility. I'd really feel better staying with him."

"I assure you, he's in safe hands here." Julian gently led N'ivryn towards the door. He was ready to call for security if she resisted, but she relented, albeit reluctantly.

Before the doors closed behind her, she turned back. "Please, Doctor, you must help him."

Julian's smile was both confident and sympathetic. "I give you my word, I'll do everything possible. If you haven't heard from me by 19:00 hours, feel free to check in."

Alone in the bustling Promenade, N'ivryn felt a sense of displacement. She nervously fiddled with her pack. Multicolored lights of Quark's bar beckoned from ahead. She took in the busy scene of bustling patrons with a cool, detached fascination. A pair of Bajorans jostled past her and she shuffled out of their way. Her eyes trailed after them as they filed into the temple and solemnly greeted the robed figure at the entrance.

An almost imperceptible shift in the air tickled the back of N'ivryn's neck–a feeling of being watched.

Taking care not to move too suddenly, N'ivryn turned. A gray reptilian face grinned at her from the entrance of a nearby shop. There was nothing menacing in the smile, yet it gave her an uneasy feeling all the same. The figure leaned against the display window, hands casually clasped together.

"Can I help you?" N'ivryn inquired, keeping her voice steady.

"I take it our dear Doctor will be detained through lunch?" he stepped forward, his voice dripping with cordiality.

N'ivryn darted a quick glance back at the infirmary. "It seems so. Why?"

"Well, Doctor Bashir and I have a standing engagement to break bread together once a week. Today happens to be that day."

"Oh, I see, I didn't mean to–"

He raised a hand, chuckling, "Please, no apologies necessary. I daresay you've enlivened his day significantly."

"Really?" N'ivryn asked, skepticism tinting her voice.

"Indeed. Few things rouse Doctor Bashir's enthusiasm quite like a medical mystery."

"Were you eavesdropping?" There was a touch of frostiness in her voice.

Garak held up his hands in a show of innocence. "I assure you, nothing so intrusive. Only observation. I've learned to recognize when he's caught scent of a puzzle."

Relaxing slightly, N'ivryn continued, "You live here then? Given your regular meetings?"

"Here, in the Promenade?" Garak gestured expansively. "Oh no, Constable Odo would have a fit. But I do reside on the station. My tailor shop is just over there."

Following his pointing finger, N'ivryn noticed a sign indicating the Clothier's shop would reopen shortly. "You're…Garak?"

"Good, we've established you can be observant too. Excellent trait to have."

N'ivryn cocked her head, not quite certain whether the comment was derisive or sincere.

"And might I have the honor of your name?"

"Just N'iv is fine." She had the sense he was going out of his way to be so overly welcoming, and she wasn't sure why.

"Well, 'Just N'iv', it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I gather this is your first time on the station?"

"Yes. I don't plan to stay long. Just until my ship is repaired and Doctor Bashir has found a treatment."

"One never knows how long such endeavors might take. Would you perhaps be interested in a brief tour of the station? My lunch hour has suddenly become vacant, after all."

N'ivryn toyed with the clasp on her bag as her gaze drifted back to the infirmary doors with apprehension.

"Your charge will be in the same place when you return, I assure you."

With a final moment of hesitation, N'iv nodded in agreement. She gestured for him to lead the way and fell into step beside him, ready to explore the unknown corridors of Deep Space Nine.