Chapter 01
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"Here we are."
Sisko lowered the map he'd been given at the information desk and cast a curious look up and down the long, gray-white corridor. The place had a tidy and even somewhat sterile feeling about it. Even though they had met some passers-by earlier, they found the corridors now fairly deserted, making him wonder how deep exactly they had already ventured into the maze-like complex. Having the young office lady at the reception desk describe the right way had been more than helpful, for he doubted they would ever have found their way down here alone. But still, even with the map, the Administrative Authority's main office complex was huge. Larger even than its outer appearance would suggest. With long, winding hallways and intersecting corridors that all looked fairly the same.
Sisko shook his head. It was a strange irony of fate that they should find him here – after three long months. Enough time that absolutely anything could have happened to him; that he could have been kidnapped – or even worse – that he could have been killed without their knowledge. It was almost a miracle that they were now standing in front of the double-door room with its golden sign and fateful letters reading Infirmary. As if the last three months had never happened. As if all they had to do was walk in and bring him home. Could it really be that easy?
He sighed. He had been more than worried when his chief medical officer hadn't returned home from the medical conference on Belaran three months ago. More so, when his runabout had been declared missing. It had come as a painful blow when Starfleet had finally announced - barely one month ago - that no further investigations would be made to solve the issue of his sudden disappearance. But Sisko hadn't given up hope. He had known that his officer was somewhere out there and had sworn to himself that he would do everything to find him. He wouldn't accept Starfleet's reports as long as he wasn't a hundred percent sure. And he wouldn't give up on his chief medical officer as long as there was still hope. Three months had been a long time, but finally, his search had led him here.
Should their long journey finally come to an end? Too many things had gone wrong during those last three months, too many hints had turned out to be dead-ends. But even if they should finally find him here, did he really feel ready to face the truth? He still had an uneasy feeling about it. And even though he tried to ignore it, there was still that small voice in the back of his mind whispering that things were never that easy. He tried to ignore it. They had finally found him – and that was all that mattered.
Almost unconsciously, he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Then he turned around. Dax was waiting a few steps behind him, apparently as nervous as he was. When their eyes met, she offered a tight but encouraging smile.
"Are you sure he'll be in there?" O'Brien asked skeptically, moving to Sisko's side. "I mean, why didn't he try to contact us? This place isn't... exactly uninhabited..." the Irishman said with a dark frown and a somber, wary look around.
Sisko couldn't deny that the chief had a point. Ever since they had learned of his being here, he had asked himself the same question over and over again but as of yet he hadn't found any satisfying answer to his doubts. But whatever the answer was, they'd get it in only a few minutes. With a last nod toward his two officers, he stepped in front of the door that instantly parted to both sides with a faint, familiar hiss.
When he reluctantly entered, he felt some sort of odd familiarity with the place. It reminded him too much of his own infirmary, on his own station, many light-years away. Shrugging off the slight feeling of nostalgia, he quickly scanned the room for the person he was looking for.
After only a short glance around, he saw him. Sisko involuntarily held his breath. He had already played it through in his mind. He had already imagined the encounter so many times before, had searched for the right words to say then. God, he had even pictured the young man's face when he was being told that it was finally time to go home. But none of his prepared words really seemed to matter at this moment.
"Can I help you?" the young doctor said with a friendly smile. He had been studying some PADDs and had suddenly turned to the sound of incoming patients. There seemed to be no other personnel around. The few biobeds on the far side of the room were empty.
Sisko felt a painful twinge at the familiar sight. It was the same blue-trimmed uniform. Underneath it the lilac-colored shirt. Only the combadge was missing. As well as the pips.
"Can I help you?" the young man tried again, coming over to them.
He hadn't changed. The same slender form, the same coal-black hair. The same friendly bedside manner. Only now Sisko realized how much he had missed him. DS9 just hadn't been the same without him. How often had he been to the infirmary during those past three months, stuffed with the latest technical equipment but without the warmth of the person who had once been working there?
"Doctor Julian Bashir?" Sisko probed carefully. The young doctor's answer was a nod – and a broad, disarming smile.
"Yes? What can I do for you?"
It wasn't exactly the words that took the captain by surprise, but rather his nonchalant way of addressing them. Sisko's eyes darted from Dax to O'Brien. Even though the chief was obviously struggling to keep a neutral countenance, Sisko could very well sense O'Brien's confusion at the young man's unexpected words.
Somehow he had known that things wouldn't be that easy. That he would find him, bring him home and that they could go on as if nothing had ever happened. But still – he had wished for this bad feeling to prove unfounded. Three months was a long time. And being honest with himself, he had to concede that even the fact that they had found him here – safe and sound again – was more than he could have hoped for in the first place.
No, he couldn't expect things to be that easy.
"My name is Benjamin Sisko and these are my friends, Jadzia Dax and Miles O'Brien."
He did it on purpose – leaving out their military ranks. Julian politely shook hands with all newcomers, but without any trace of joy about meeting his old colleagues and friends again. It seemed as if their little meeting didn't mean any more or less to him than a talk to one of his patients, as he had them so many a day.
"Pleased to meet you."
Sisko could feel Jadzia's questioning gaze at his back. He couldn't tell how he managed but after all those long years of friendship, they must have developed a kind of relationship that didn't need many words to understand each other's feelings. Even standing there with his back to her, he could feel this bond of friendship and trust, this special thing that only the two of them shared. She was waiting for his reaction. The reaction of the captain.
"Well, to be honest, I'm not feeling well. I don't know why but I have that strange feeling in my stomach. I was told at the information desk that I would find you here. It took me a while to figure out the right way..." Sisko pretended to be a little embarrassed, passing one hand over his belly. Perhaps it would be better to leave out the truth – at least for a while.
"Oh, I see. This building is so huge that I got lost myself several times in a row at the beginning. Figuring out the right way took me some weeks," Julian laughed warmly and gestured for Sisko to lie down on one of the biobeds, picking up some sort of medical instrument.
He didn't recognize them. None of them. Only formalities, no greeting, no joy about their sudden reunion. As if he had never known them in the first place...
"Just relax," Bashir said gently, running a diagnostic device over his patient. "What did you have for breakfast?"
"Just some fruit..." the captain tried to make his non-existent stomach ache more convincing.
Julian knit his brow, tapping the display of his medical tricorder. "Well, we'll have that fixed in a minute." And with a quick glance at O'Brien and Dax, he asked: "Are you new here?"
The question took Sisko by surprise. "We're... just visiting," he stalled.
The young man nodded.
"I hope you'll enjoy your stay in Velurin. You should go see the thermal springs in the northern part of the city. It's one of Velurin's most famous sights," he smiled.
Sisko cast Dax a meaningful look. She slightly nodded in response, not taking her eyes off Bashir who was completely oblivious to the silent exchange between the two of them. Clearing her throat, she came to the young man's side, hands clasped behind her back.
"By the way, Doctor, may I ask how long you have been working here?"
Julian looked up at this. "Oh, quite a while actually," he answered with yet another open smile. He seemed so easygoing. As if nothing was wrong at all.
"And what did you do before you came to work here?" she ventured further, still watching him closely.
Bashir suddenly seemed to hesitate, a shadow crossing his face. For a moment, he frowned in confusion until he finally seemed to snap out of his stupor and shook his head. His tone was remarkably cooler with a hint of irritation when he said at length: "I'm sorry but I don't think that's any of your business." And administering a hypospray to Sisko's neck, he asked, this time more gently: "So, how do you feel?"
Sisko nodded. "Better. Thank you, Doctor." And with a quick look toward Dax, he added: "I'm sorry. I'm sure my friend didn't intend to offend you."
Julian sighed, obviously slightly embarrassed. "I'm just a little nervous myself today. Never mind. It was my bad."
Sisko watched Bashir carefully. "Just one more question, Doctor. I've been wondering if you've ever been a member of Starfleet?"
Perplexed, the young doctor's eyes strayed from the captain to Dax. "Why do you ask?" His brow furrowed with confusion – and suspicion.
Sisko shook his head, vaguely gesturing toward the young man's uniform. "You're wearing one of their uniforms. I just thought you were Starfleet."
He wasn't sure what it was he saw in the young man's face, but Julian palpably paled at the question.
"No... that's the uniform of the Administrative Authority," Julian frowned warily. "Perhaps it resembles a Starfleet uniform, I wouldn't be able to tell. I've never been in Starfleet and to tell the truth, I've never seen one of them before, because – to be honest - I haven't ever left this planet. But perhaps you're right. We have so many different clothing styles here in Velurin. Perhaps someone just copied it. I'm sure it's just a coincidence."
Sisko wasn't at all sure how to deal with those words. He didn't know if Julian truly believed in what he was saying. But if he did – and it really seemed so – their problems were bigger than he had assumed. When they'd made their way down here nobody else had been wearing anything that came even close to the design of a Starfleet uniform – which proved Bashir's current assumption more than wrong.
"You're absolutely sure about never having been in Starfleet?" now also Jadzia probed apprehensively.
It was the decisive moment. Even though Julian might have been stalling and avoiding any clear answer before, he was trapped by the young Trill's question now. His eyes darted from Dax to O'Brien and from O'Brien to Sisko, his face adopting again that confused and bewildered expression. Was it fear he saw in the young doctor's eyes? Julian didn't move, just stared at them as if he was struggling for words.
"I-I don't..." The words came with an obvious stutter.
"Julian!"
With a sharp hiss, the doors of the infirmary parted and a young man – about the same age as Bashir – came rushing in, panting heavily for breath. Startled, the four of them turned to face the newcomer.
"Julian! It's Selim! We need your help! You have to come with me," the newcomer pleaded, propping himself on his knees. His reddened face was drawn into a painful grimace.
Still rooted to the spot, Julian blinked several times, before he finally seemed to come around, grabbed the med kit that was lying on top of one of the biobeds and moved decisively past Sisko and the others. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sisko. Perhaps we'll have the chance to talk to each other again but for now duty calls. If you'll excuse me," he said, hurrying after the other young man without another glance back.
Another hiss - and he was gone.
Sisko cast a confused look at Dax and O'Brien. They had found him indeed...
"What was that supposed to be? That's not Julian!" O'Brien protested vigorously, clenching both hands tightly around his coffee mug. Though it was shortly before noon, the cafeteria was not very crowded, and finding a vacant table hadn't been difficult. They were sitting near one of the huge viewports at one side of the hall, giving a good view over the vast, green forest that surrounded the entire building.
"Biologically, it's him. I've compared the tricorder readouts I took earlier with those of his record. They correspond a hundred percent," Dax said matter-of-factly, swaying her own mug to cool her tea while casting swift but alert glances toward the entrance every now and then.
"I mean, he's been missing for three months, and when we find him, he has no idea who we are? What happened?" The chief grimaced.
Dax shook her head. "I know what you mean, Chief. And I wish we knew what happened. But all we do know is that his shuttle must have crashed on this planet. He might have been injured then. He might even have lost his memory. Without another scan, I cannot tell for sure, but after all we've seen, I think the most logical explanation is that he's suffering from some kind of amnesia. It would explain why he doesn't remember any of us. Perhaps someone found him after the accident and brought him here. If he's really lost his memory, then it's no wonder that he didn't try to contact us..." Dax reasoned mildly, trying to dispel the chief's worries.
"Perhaps you're right," O'Brien conceded with a frown. "But why is he still wearing his uniform? Why is he working as a doctor if he lost his memory? And what about his name? Isn't the own name the first thing people suffering from amnesia forget? But Julian obviously knows his own name. Apparently, he hasn't forgotten his profession as a doctor, either," O'Brien said with irritation. Even though he tried to hide it and keep his emotions at bay, Dax could sense how much he was worried about finding his best friend like this.
"Somebody might have read about his identity in the shuttle logs," Dax suggested.
"But what about Julian being a member of Starfleet? If somebody found out about the truth, why didn't they try to contact Starfleet? What's all this about?" the Irishman held.
Sisko shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line. "Even if we leave out all these contradictions for a while, there's another thing that bothers me even more. Did you see the look on his face when Dax asked him how long he's been working here? Or when I asked him about his uniform?"
Dax slowly nodded. "He was literally speechless. Like if the question had caught him completely off guard."
"The incident with that young man back in the infirmary might have saved him from having to answer the question, but I'm not sure if he would have been able to give us any clear answer at all," Sisko continued. "I don't know why, but I already had a bad feeling when we entered that room. Something is not right here. And I agree with the chief that the whole affair of Julian obviously working for the Administrative Authority sounds rather strange to me."
He took a short sip of his coffee, rubbing his temples. "When can we contact the Orinoco again?"
The young Trill secretly opened her tricorder under the table. "In about 72 hours and 15 minutes. That gives us some time to get a closer look around. See if we can find out more."
"Well," Sisko sighed, "I don't know what happened, or why nobody saw it necessary to contact Starfleet about Dr. Bashir's whereabouts – but I intend to find out. And as things are, it seems we don't have much choice but to do some investigations on our own."
Recalling his meeting with Minister Hradly of the Administrative Authority here in Velurin shortly after their arrival, he sighed. Contacting the authorities of Felan III to get help with searching for Dr. Bashir had proven a waste of time. There were almost no political ties between Starfleet and the faraway planet here in the Gamma Quadrant, whose inhabitants lived in utter isolation from the outer world. Although the planet had no relevant resources of raw materials and therefore was of no greater significance to either Starfleet or the Dominion, a prosperous society had developed on the four large continents of Felan III.
Most of the planet's surface consisted of vast areas of woods, lakes, and a landscape every tourist could only dream of. But the Felani knew very well how to keep uninvited guests away from their planet. The last thing they wanted to do was make Felan III a second Risa or Casperia. They appreciated their privacy and didn't willingly engage in trades with species from other worlds.
It didn't happen very often that a stranger found their way to Felan III. Even though the Felani were very similar to humans and – at first sight – hardly distinguishable from the human species, the Felani were not so detached from the rest of the universe that they wouldn't be able to recognize an alien among their fellow citizens. A runabout crash like that of Dr. Bashir had been bound to attract some attention, but when Sisko had contacted the Administrative Authority of Felan III, the occurrence of such an incident had been denied. If he hadn't been able to trace back the unmistakable remains of the runabout's ion signature, he wouldn't have had any solid proof that Bashir's shuttle had really crashed down on this isolated planet in the Gamma Quadrant.
They had been able to trace the ion signature back to a spot on the planet's surface not far from the city Velurin on the biggest continent on Felan III. Despite the ion signature, they hadn't been able to find either remains of the runabout or any hint as to the whereabouts of its pilot. It was then that Sisko had started to grow suspicious and had decided to start some investigations on his own, going down to the planet with a small away team to find out more about Bashir's whereabouts.
"Can't we just ask him?" O'Brien's worried voice drew Captain Sisko's attention back to the here-and-now.
"Or ask someone from that Administrative Authority? Somebody has to know about Julian. Somebody hired him. I mean: Julian is obviously working as a doctor, so there has to be somebody who's trusting him and his abilities. It's just about finding out who's in charge of the staff department, isn't it?"
O'Brien looked expectantly from Captain Sisko to Lieutenant Dax.
"It's not that easy, Chief. We've already asked the Administrative Authority for help, but nobody there seems to know anything about a Julian Bashir. Apparently, they don't want us to get in contact with him, or perhaps it's just because we're foreigners. Perhaps they're afraid that we might become a danger to them."
"Danger?" the Chief growled. "When I find out what's going on with Julian and why nobody saw it necessary to inform us about his whereabouts, I'll become a real danger. That much I promise, Captain."
"For the time being, we can't do anything that might attract their attention. We have to try to keep our investigation secret. I think that would be best. Dax..." He turned to the young Trill. "...what do you think about the possibility that Dr. Bashir might have lost his memory in the shuttle crash? Is there any chance to check this?"
"Without any further medical examination, it's not possible to say for sure. But I'll try and see if I can get close enough to him to run another scan..."
Sisko nodded. "Chief?"
O'Brien looked up, eager for the permission to go and see Julian as soon as possible.
"I'd like you to search for the remains of the runabout. Within the city, in the woods, everywhere. Search for ion signatures or any other unusual sources of emission."
When O'Brien opened his mouth to protest, Sisko held up a warning hand. "That's an order, Chief."
"Aye, sir," the Irishman grumbled under his breath.
It wasn't that Sisko couldn't understand O'Brien's disappointment. For now, the most important task was to learn what had really happened in the past three months.
"Very well. You know your mission. We'll meet again at 1600 hours, that is in about five hours. Just try to find something out until then."
Julian slowly walked down the deserted corridor, the med kit absently dangling from his hand. He had tended to Selim, but was it enough?
He wandered aimlessly until he finally stopped in a dimly-lit side corridor, slumping tiredly against the wall. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and get his emotions under control. His heart was still pounding hard in his chest, and he knew he didn't need a mirror to know he must be a terrible sight.
His hands were still covered in blood. Selim's blood. There had been no time to wash it off. It was still there, sticking to his hands and staining his uniform. At the mere sight of his blood-soaked sleeves, he felt a wave of nausea.
It was strange. He wasn't sure why, but he felt an odd attachment to this uniform. He couldn't quite place the feeling, but there was something comforting about it. Something warm and calming. Wearing this uniform made him feel only half as lost, and only half as afraid. He knew it was illogical and foolish, but with this uniform, he felt strangely at ease. Even at home.
No matter what happened, no matter how bad the day became, the uniform gave him a feeling of warmth and security. Seeing the sleeve now soaked with Selim's blood made him feel sick and nauseated.
He took a deep breath and wiped the back of his hand over his face in a futile effort to wipe away all the unpleasant feelings swirling in his mind. But it didn't help. Almost involuntarily, his thoughts drifted back to his encounter with the strangers in the infirmary this morning.
What had those strangers wanted from him? And why did he feel so angry and defensive when he thought back to their meeting? He didn't even know them. But somehow, they managed to set his nerves on edge. Why did he feel so threatened by their questions? They had been patients, after all. He scolded himself for being so egotistical as to let his personal feelings interfere with his professionalism as a doctor. Mr. Sisko had just needed his help, that's all. And the other two were just friends of Mr. Sisko. No need to feel alarmed—least of all threatened.
He doubted he'd see them again anyway. They were just tourists. How likely was it that their paths would cross again? ... So why was their meeting still bothering him so much?
"Julian! Here you are." His head snapped up at the familiar voice. It was John, running down the corridor, waving. "I thought I'd have to search the whole complex for you. So here you are!" As he came closer, he eyed the young man with a troubled frown.
"I know, that thing with Selim was really bad... But don't blame yourself, Julian, it wasn't your fault, and you know that. He's on the mend, that's all that matters." John watched Julian carefully, then sighed when his friend didn't react.
John was as tall as Julian, with straw-colored hair and broad shoulders. He was a bit sturdier than Julian. John worked as a maintenance engineer for the electrical systems within the administration building. Even though his duties kept him fairly busy most of the time, Julian couldn't remember a time when John hadn't been there to share his scant spare time. They were best friends. And right now, Julian was glad that he was here.
The blond engineer cast him a sympathetic look, finally laying a reassuring hand on Julian's shoulder. "What about having a drink? That'll take your mind off Selim. Rumors have it that Vejor isn't that bad..."
John grinned, trying to spark Julian's interest. He knew Julian's thoughts were still on Selim, but dwelling on things he couldn't change wouldn't help.
"Alright," Julian finally nodded. "My shift begins at 1500 hours. That leaves me some free time. What about you?"
"My shift's over for today. I had to repair some upper-level panel, but now I'm done and DeMoll doesn't have any other work for me today. Which means I can take the rest of the day off." John patted the young man on the shoulder before signaling Julian to follow him. "We gotta hurry then. It's lunchtime and the cafeteria will be crowded by now. Let's see if we can find some free seats before everyone else does."
Julian just nodded. As he was about to follow John, he was suddenly held back by his friend. With an awkward grimace, John pointed to Julian's blood-covered hands.
"But I guess you should get that off first."
Julian's gaze dropped to his hands. His mouth twisted slightly. "I... think you're right. Just go ahead. I'll catch up with you later."
Bidding the young man goodbye, Julian went straight back to his quarters. It didn't take him long to get to the administration building's habitat area—he already knew the way by heart. When he finally arrived at his quarters, he quickly entered the access code, stepped into the living room, and headed straight for the bathroom.
It wasn't until he had his hands under the warm jet of water that he started to relax. He watched the thin streaks of red run from his hands and pool in the sink before fresh water washed it all away. He let out a long breath and leaned his head weakly against the mirror above the sink in a futile effort to regain some inner composure. He even washed his face, then stared numbly at his tired reflection in the mirror before finally grabbing the towel next to the sink.
As he was about to leave, he hesitated when he spotted the dark-rimmed stains on his uniform sleeve. He turned on the water one more time and tried his best to wash the stains out of the black fabric. Only when he couldn't make out their rims any longer did he stop and dry his soaked sleeves as best he could.
Not only the uniform, but also his undershirt had been soaked by his actions. But he had no time. Hastily, he left his quarters, heading towards the cafeteria.
When he arrived at the crowded place, he saw with relief that John had managed to secure a table for them at the rear part next to the viewports. Gently pushing his way through the crowd, he finally arrived at John's table, slumping into the chair with a heavy sigh of relief.
"I already ordered, if you don't mind."
"Vejor?"
"Cold, with ice, straw, and a Fruju slice."
Julian laughed, starting to relax just a little. "Just in case you forgot: I'm still on duty today."
"That's okay, Doctor. I'm sure one glass won't kill you," John answered amiably while signaling to the waitress. "And by the way: today we really deserve it. When I think about tomorrow... DeMoll said something about heaps of work, if you know what I mean."
"So why don't you do it right now?"
"DeMoll told me to take the rest of the day off. And you know what they say: Let sleeping dogs lie…"
Julian just opened his mouth for a sarcastic remark when a soft voice suddenly interrupted their conversation. "Sorry, but do you mind if I have a seat?"
Glancing up, Julian felt his heart skip a beat. It was the same woman he had met in the infirmary that morning. Her black hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and she was smiling a slight, embarrassed smile. "It's so hard to find a free table here. I just saw you from over there and..." she let her words trail off.
John exchanged a quick glance with his friend before nonchalantly pointing to the vacant seat at their table. "Oh, of course. Please." The woman gave John another friendly smile before she sat down next to him.
Julian's grip around his drink tightened. He awkwardly tried to return the smile. Something about her presence unnerved him. But there was no way he could be so impolite as to send her away just because of some indefinite feeling he didn't even understand. And besides—she looked beautiful. The longer he watched her, the more he found himself wondering if she would agree to dinner. "Jadzia... Dax, wasn't it?" he frowned.
The woman nodded, apparently happy that he still remembered her name. "Nice to see you again."
"This is John, one of the local engineers," Julian introduced his friend, who lifted his glass of Vejor in response. "I see. You two have already met. That's unfair," the blond engineer grimaced in mock disapproval.
"I'm Jadzia."
"Jadzia? Sounds as if you're not from Velurin."
"No, I'm not."
Julian watched her with genuine interest. "May I ask what you're doing here in Velurin? Are you here on business or just on a private holiday trip?"
The black-haired woman shook her head, smiling. "I've heard a lot about Velurin. My grandmother was from here, so I thought it might be a good idea to visit the place where she grew up. It's just a trip for a few days, though. I'm not staying long."
Julian felt a weight lift from his chest.
"Where do you come from? Somewhere in the south?" John regarded her curiously. "I've got some relatives down in Belerhel, if that sounds familiar to you. Perhaps you've heard of the city. It's a nice place but without the vast areas of green we have here in Velurin."
The foreign woman shook her head again. "Sounds interesting, but I don't think I've ever been there. But what about you? Where are you from?"
Even though she hadn't addressed anyone in particular, her gaze remained fixed on Julian. Had he paled again? His gaze flicked over to John, then back to her. Once again, he seemed lost for words, his eyes widening ever so slightly.
"No, we're not from here," John offered, even before Julian had a chance to answer. "But we came to Velurin for work. It's a nice city."
Jadzia nodded, casting a brief side-glance at the big digital clock hanging over the cafeteria's bar counter. She drew in a sudden breath. "Is it really that late? I think I completely lost track of time during our conversation." With an apologetic smile, she stood, shifting the chair back toward the table. John and Julian watched her in surprise.
"I've got a rendezvous with a friend in a few minutes. Please excuse me. It was a great pleasure to meet you. I hope we'll have the chance to see each other again. Then you have to tell me more about this beautiful city and your work," she said with a wink.
"So, see you later," she bade them farewell. Looking at Julian for a moment, she added, quietly enough for only him to hear: "It's a pity you can't remember me."
Before Julian found his voice, she had already disappeared into the shifting crowd of the cafeteria. Perplexed and with a terrified feeling as if he had been slapped in the face, he stared after her until he felt John's hand patting his shoulder. "What about another Vejor?"
Julian startled, suddenly too tense to speak. He only nodded. Perhaps he had been wrong, perhaps her words hadn't been meant for him. Awkwardly, he tore his gaze from the laughing people in front of him. "You're right," he finally forced himself to say. "I think today I really need it."
Coming to a halt in front of the door and touching the control panel to his quarters, Julian hesitated. He felt tired and worn, exhausted by the long, hard day. All he wanted to do now was shower and then go to bed.
But still, he couldn't bring himself to enter his quarters. Even when the door slid open with its usual soft hiss, revealing the dark living room behind, he lingered at the threshold.
He didn't know why. Perhaps it was the incident with Selim that had worn him down. Perhaps it was the unsettling feeling from his meeting with the strangers in the infirmary that morning. Or perhaps it was the confusion about his feelings toward the young woman he'd met in the cafeteria that afternoon. Her last remark still bothered him. No matter how hard he thought about it, it didn't make any sense. But it kept bothering him nonetheless. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't like it at all.
What if he just went back to the cafeteria to distract himself? With a quick look down the corridor, he immediately discarded the idea. He was tired, and his body felt so heavy that all he wanted to do was drop into bed. And besides, he would have to come back sooner or later. He could run away now, but reality would catch up with him eventually.
Awkwardly, he willed himself to step over the threshold. "Computer, lights."
Within an instant, his quarters were filled with a comforting brightness. But still, his uneasiness wouldn't go away. When he heard the door glide shut behind him, he slowly let out a long breath, casting a frightened look around. When his gaze fell onto the small console in the far left corner of the room, he felt his legs give way. At the same time, his pulse sped up to an unbearable level.
The red lamp on the console was blinking at regular intervals.
He had a message.