3

THE EXCITEMENT AND WORRY OF THEIR HOMECOMING HAD WORN OFF, and Ezri’s weary mind had been elsewhere; she had been watching Shar and his mother, and thinking about getting a decent meal, and considering what crisis had occurred to warrant the Defiant’s reception—she was concerned, but not overly so; a health quarantine was nothing to scoff at, but they’d handled them before—and then Kira introduced the general and everything else fell off her sensors, her attention fixing on the older Trill.

Cyl. Once upon a time it had been Neema, daughter of Audrid Dax and Jayvin Vod, a stubborn, brilliant child who, as an adult, had joined to the Cyl symbiont. There had been a period of estrangement between mother and daughter, a bitter one, over lies Audrid had told regarding Jayvin Vod’s death

And they had finally mended things after eight years of not talking, after Audrid had sent Neema a letter with the truth. But once Audrid had died, Trill custom demanded that any relationships from the symbiont’s previous host-life be abandoned.

When was Torias, ninety-one, ninety-two years ago? It had been a long time. For Dax, four lifetimes.

And now Cyl was here. Ezri was unable to look away from him as she took a seat next to Julian. A general, at least three times my host age. How many lives has Cyl lived since Neema? How many memories of hers come to Taulin’s mind, when he looks at the universe, when he forms his thoughts and opinions?

It was strange, but Ezri actually felt a trace of pride looking at him, at the deep lines on his well-weathered face, imagining how Neema’s directness must have helped his military career. Strange, and

inappropriate? She didn’t know what the emotional protocol was for something like this. Though Audrid and Neema’s relationship had changed dramatically, both from their estrangement and Neema’s joining to Cyl, they had still been mother and daughter

and this was the first time Dax had come across any of its host-children’s subsequent lives. It was disorienting, to say the least, more proof that the Symbiosis Commission’s rules against such reassociations held merit.

So, what is he doing here? The general certainly hadn’t been surprised to see her

and though both Jadzia and Ezri had found their attitudes about the reassociation taboo relaxing somewhat, she couldn’t imagine that a general in the homeworld military wouldn’t be concerned about ignoring such a rule.

“Past host relationship?” Julian whispered, nodding toward Cyl, more a statement than a question.

“My—Audrid’s daughter,” Ezri whispered back. “Neema was Cyl’s host.”

Julian knew about Dax’s children, of course, but she apparently hadn’t ever mentioned Neema’s symbiont by name. He looked at Cyl with newfound interest, but said nothing. Everyone else had also fallen silent, watching as Kira leaned over and rested her hands on the table, her expression harried and grim.

“So you’re all aware, these proceedings are being recorded,” Kira said. “Holoconferencing isn’t currently available with the security restrictions, and there are several people who weren’t able to make it to this briefing on such short notice. Now, I hope you’ll all forgive me, but I’m going to forgo the formalities and get to the point. The situation is this: Seven days ago, First Minister Shakaar Edon was assassinated here on the station, just as he was about to sign Bajor into the Federation.”

Ezri blinked, her attention finally pulled away from Taulin Cyl, a half-dozen questions pushing for priority through her astonishment. Obviously aware of the statement’s impact, Kira held up one hand and quickly continued.

“The assassin was a member of the Trill ambassador’s entourage, a Trill named Hiziki Gard.”

Ezri froze.

Gard? No. It couldn’t be

“After shooting the First Minister, Gard beamed out from the Promenade. Sensor readings suggested that he had fled the station for Trill, and I immediately left with the U.S.S. Gryphon, in pursuit.”

Ezri felt a flush of real anger. Kira and Shakaar had been lovers for a time, shortly after he’d been elected Bajor’s First Minister; he’d been a good man, and a good friend to her. And as independent as she was, as convinced as she was that she was autonomous, Kira needed her friends, perhaps more than most. Ezri knew, through Jadzia and herself, that Kira had spent years trying to overcome her own defenses, built up from a childhood brutalized by the Cardassian Occupation, to learn how to let people in

but very few actually made it inside, and the loss of any one of them was devastating.

“While we were on our way to Trill, Lieutenant Ro tracked down Gard, still in hiding on the station,” Kira said, “and between his interrogation and the autopsy data on the First Minister, it was discovered that Shakaar had been taken over by a parasitic alien, presumably at some time in his travels through the Federation earlier this year. He was no longer Shakaar Edon.”

Ezri’s breath caught, her hands curling into fists as dark memories flooded her mind like water. She shot a look at Cyl, saw that he was watching her, his expression affirming the truth of it, explaining his presence. It explained everything, the knowledge hitting her deep.

after so long

Dax had hoped never to hear of the parasites again, had actually dared to believe that the threat had passed. A parasite had killed Jayvin Vod, Audrid’s husband and Neema’s father

a parasite that the Trill Symbiosis Commission had covered up just over a century earlier, the lies about which had been the cause of Audrid and Neema’s long estrangement. Ezri felt a sudden chill, remembering what Audrid had experienced on the day of Jayvin’s death—an icy darkness, running exhausted through a twisted black labyrinth, chased by the raging screams of what had once been her husband

And now something else came back to her: memories of the Dax symbiont’s personal ordeal during the “cathedral” encounter

which, she now realized, may have been a confrontation with its own reluctance to probe deeper into that earlier parasite incident.

“These parasites are known to both the Federation and apparently Trill, though very little data is available,” Kira continued. “What information there is, we’ve encrypted into a file that has been made accessible to each of your personal clearance codes. I suggest you all read it as soon as possible

but for the sake of this briefing, I’ll give you an abbreviated rundown.

“What we know at this time is that they have a limited group consciousness, but are capable of individual action. Unjoined, they’re small and mobile, and use a chemistry similar to that of a Trill symbiont in order to subjugate their hosts. Their goal appears to be the destruction of Trill. We know that they thoroughly dominate their unwilling carriers and are difficult to detect through medical scans. We don’t know how many there are, or where they’re currently based, but we must assume through their actions thus far that they are uninterested in pursuing a diplomatic course.”

“The Starfleet conspiracy,” Vaughn said, glancing between Kira and Akaar. Ezri looked around the table, saw that she wasn’t the only one who’d never heard of it

and that Cyl’s gaze had dropped, his expression carefully blank.

The admiral nodded. “We have been reevaluating the data on the parasites’ last incursion twelve years ago, in which they attempted to take over the Federation by infiltrating Starfleet,” he said. “Knowing what we do now, we can see that their redeployment of Starfleet personnel and forces at that time was putting a great deal of firepower specifically within striking distance of Trill.”

“And we now have reason to believe this latest incursion was initiated with the same goal,” Kira said. “Only this time their plan of attack was to entrench themselves first on a single world on the verge of Federation admission.

“Prior to the assassination of Shakaar, another parasite had taken over the first officer of the Gryphon. It manufactured evidence to suggest that Gard had fled for Trill. It did this in order to take Gryphon there and use the ship to cause widespread destruction. Fortunately, we were able to stop it at the edge of Trill space, though not without

sustaining losses on board.”

She took a deep breath, then went on. “Before it was stopped, the parasite talked to me. It said that its species meant to change things on Bajor and in the Federation, and made it clear that they despise Trill, though it was less than specific about why. General Cyl has explained that he represents a group on Trill that has been preparing for the parasite threat for some time, and that this group began to suspect Shakaar’s takeover at a point when it was already too late to save him. For the present, we are accepting the general’s word that Trill’s secrecy and the operation to assassinate Shakaar was unavoidable.”

Which means they haven’t been able to get through to anyone on Trill who’s willing to talk, not yet, Ezri thought. Cyl turned his gaze on Kira, his expression still bland, but Ezri understood what Kira hadn’t said: When all this was over, the Trill government could expect Bajor to demand a full investigation into Trill’s handling of the crisis. From Akaar’s neutral expression, Ezri had no doubt that the Federation was with Bajor on this. Not that Ezri would blame them. Trill’s need to keep secrets, time and again

it was their undoing.

Only now we’re dragging other planets in with us.

Kira went on. “Once the immediate threat to Trill was neutralized, Starfleet and Federation officials met with General Cyl and the Bajoran Chamber of Ministers and proposed this quarantine. With Bajor’s go-ahead, and with the generous assistance of the Cardassian military,” she added, nodding at Macet, “we’ve instituted the lockdown of Bajoran space in the hopes of containing the threat. At this time, however, with the exception of government officials and key Federation personnel, it’s generally believed that the security measures we’ve taken are related only to the assassination. We’ve made it known that there’s a vague possibility of anti-Federation terrorist activity, nothing specific, we don’t want to cause a panic—but more important, because the nature of the threat involves the total appropriation of individual identities, we don’t know at this time who can be trusted. So it’s vital that the truth doesn’t get out. We’ve found six infected people on board this station thus far, all of whom are currently in medical stasis.”

Kira looked around the table. “Admiral Akaar, General Cyl, Dr. Girani, and Lieutenant Ro all have statements to make regarding what’s been done and what needs to be done. You may want to hold questions until everyone has spoken. Admiral?”

Akaar unfolded his large frame from his seat, nodding at Kira. “As the Colonel has already stated, the Federation and Starfleet have instituted a class-one lockdown of Bajoran space. Bajor’s new First Minister, Asarem Wadeen, agreed—with understandable reluctance—to support the Federation’s efforts on Bajor’s behalf, but there is some civil unrest both here and on the planet.”

Ezri nodded inwardly. How could there not be? As far as Bajor knew, they’d lost their popular First Minister to an assassin while he was under Federation protection, apparently while in the act of signing Bajor into the UFP.

“Five days ago, a parasite attacked Gul Macet, here on the station,” Akaar continued. “But it was ultimately unable to take hold over his system. Preliminary data suggests that Cardassians are immune to this species, possibly through a biochemical discrepancy

which may explain Shakaar’s apparent reluctance to forge ties between Bajor and Cardassia in the last weeks of his life.”

Jake was right, Ezri thought numbly. The Cardassians are here because they’re immune.

The admiral stated it aloud. “Because of their resistance to parasitic infection, the Cardassians are ideally suited to help enforce the lockdown and assume point in the detection process.” Akaar then looked directly at Vaughn. “We attempted to contact Defiant, but when we learned the GQ relay had gone dark, we had to begin preparing for the possibility that one or more persons aboard the ship had been infected prior to its departure from Deep Space 9, and that it would return as an enemy vessel.”

That explained Macet’s unwillingness to reason. Vaughn nodded, looking over at the Gul. “No hard feelings, I hope.” Macet inclined his head, but did not otherwise respond.

Akaar continued: “Several Federation starships have been deployed to secure adjacent sectors—but they will not be docking here. Their purpose will be to stand by in case an emergency evacuation becomes necessary.”

Ezri saw Vaughn’s gaze sharpen, saw that Kira’s jaw had gone tight, and understood immediately. Next to her, Julian shifted uneasily. Akaar hadn’t said it, but he hadn’t needed to, either.

Not just for emergency evac. If the infestation were to get out of control

Containment was necessary, at any cost.

“Just prior to and sometime after the assassination, a small number of ships departed the station,” Akaar continued. “We have sent transports after each one, and have managed to find and scan the crews of all but four, three of those transports bound for Bajor. The shuttle passenger lists were accurate, but a number of the people we are attempting to track work and live in remote agricultural communities, so it’s taking some time. The fourth ship was a civilian freighter headed for Andevian II at warp, we were not able to contact them before they slipped into the Badlands

but they were reached yesterday, and have agreed to remain quarantined until a Federation ship can rendezvous with them to perform examinations. So far, there have been no new cases of infection reported.”

“What about ships that left here after Shakaar’s return to Bajor?” Vaughn asked, his expression suggesting that he didn’t really want to know. Shakaar Edon had been back in Bajoran space for months, and had been to the station a number of times. “And those he was in contact with on Bajor?”

Akaar glanced expressionlessly at Ro, who looked down at one of the padds in front of her before answering. “We’re doing what we can to meet with the people he had personal connections to on Bajor; fortunately, as First Minister, his movements were well-documented, and those who were with him on a day-to-day basis have tested negative, including his own personal assistant. We now believe the parasites are either slow to spread, or their numbers are small. As for the departures from here

what can be done to follow up on them is being done, but of more immediate concern is the number of Bajoran civilians we’ve been unable to track down.”

“How many?” Vaughn asked.

“Including the three shuttles that left around the time of Shakaar’s death

there are one hundred and seven civilians currently unaccounted for,” Ro said.

One hundred and seven. Ezri felt sick.

“Right now, there are several different search-and-screen teams working the surface, under General Lenaris’s supervision,” Akaar said. “And though we have tried to keep their presence as low profile as possible, the citizens have become aware that there are Cardassian ties to the process; we have met with resistance to voluntary scanning procedures. Commander Vaughn, I would like you to assist General Lenaris and coordinate additional teams.”

“Understood,” Vaughn said, the flicker of despair in his gaze there and gone almost too fast to see. Knowing what he’d been going through since the death of Prynn’s mother, Ezri caught it, and felt her heart go out to him. “Of course. Do we know yet how they breed?”

“Dr. Girani has reviewed the available data,” Akaar said. “Doctor?”

As Girani stood up, Ezri felt the memories again, too clear for an event a hundred years gone, recalled the words of the parasite that had worn her husband’s body for one terrible night, its hateful litany screamed and echoing in her helmet. It had called itself the Taker of Gist, and had insisted that it was paving the way for many, that however long it took, nothing would stop them from destroying their enemies.

They finally made it

and we are the enemy, Ezri thought helplessly, as the doctor began to speak.

Girani had a number of interesting things to say, but Ro had already heard it, at the briefing that Kira had held when the Gryphon had returned to the station. Ro found herself tuning out the repeated information, watching the Defiant’s crew instead as they struggled to digest the crisis and its implications.

Vaughn was entirely focused, his quick gaze missing nothing. Dr. Bashir was paying close attention, as well, though Ezri Dax seemed to be in a state of mild shock. Nog seemed fairly shocked as well, with that trace of Ferengi nervousness that seemed to come at the slightest hint of danger. Ro didn’t really know Bowers or Merimark, though both looked tired and unhappy, as one might expect.

Shar’s attention was completely focused on the doctor, so much so that it seemed obvious he was avoiding his mother’s gaze

and the Andorian councillor was doing the same, her countenance carefully poised, rapt to the doctor’s words. Ro had never been particularly at ease with emotional matters, her own or anyone else’s, but she decided to make a point of approaching Shar with a sympathetic ear, when there was time. She remembered the conversation they’d had after he’d translated the Ohalu text, how interested he’d been in her motivations for not following the religion of her people

and after learning the facts of his own private rebellion, she finally understood why. Andorian biology was fragile and complicated, and by leaving the station when he had, Shar had caused incredible stress to his three bondmates and his mother; Shar, it seemed, had gone against his sacred duty to marry and procreate, a necessity to the slowly dying Andorian species

and one of his mates had killed herself while he’d been away, apparently convinced that her own life was worth nothing without the children their rigidly-structured culture demanded. It was tragic, but unlike his own mother—who had apparently dragged his bondmates to the station in the first place, hoping to make her child return to Andor—Ro didn’t think it was Shar’s fault; the girl had been unstable. Ro liked Shar, he was the first real friend she’d made on the station, and she hoped she could offer him some kind of support.

“

the only visible sign that someone is infected is a tiny barb that protrudes from the back of the neck,” Girani was saying, quoting almost directly from the Enterprise’s files. “However, in two of the cases we found on the station, the barb had been plastimasked to the skin, making it impossible to detect on sight.”

Ro had read the reports several times. The Federation’s only extended contact with the parasites had been during the coup at Starfleet HQ on Earth over a decade ago, in which several key officers had been infected. Jean-Luc Picard and Will Riker had been instrumental in stopping it. The conspiracy had been rather widespread, a number of key Starfleet personnel infected throughout Federation space, but Starfleet had managed to keep it quiet, dealing with the matter internally. It had all happened well before her own struggling stint on the Enterprise.

Girani continued. “As the colonel said, while they can act individually, there’s reason to believe that they prefer to operate in numerous hives or colonies, with one central creature controlling the actions of those surrounding it—a mother parasite, if you will. She breeds a small colony inside her carrier, then sends her offspring to find their own hosts. The mother transmits direction and purpose to her spawn telepathically. We’ve hypothesized that such a female can communicate with the other females within range. But at what range, we don’t know.”

But we do know there’s a good chance that there’s a female on board, Ro thought grimly, remembering the attack on Macet. So far, the only cases on the station had been infected with the sexless, sterile offspring, Shakaar included. They’d been assuming that he had smuggled one of the females to Bajor from wherever he’d been infected.

“Have there been any attempts at surgical removal?” Bashir asked.

Girani shook her head. “It would kill the host. Starfleet’s Dr. Beverly Crusher documented the complex neurological connections, chemical and physical, that would make such an attempt impossible beyond a certain point; her notes are in the file. Data from Shakaar’s autopsy and Gard’s own testimony also suggests that there can be no separation beyond a certain window, probably a matter of three to four weeks for humans and Bajorans, based on the sim runs. This window may vary from species to species—longer in some, much shorter in others.

“When the mother parasite on Earth was killed, the ‘soldier’ parasites were then easily removed from their respective hosts. We don’t understand the exact reason at this time. We do know that those who carry the mother parasites can’t be saved, the internal damage too great, and these hosts became dependent on the mother for survival.

“Each parasite has the ability to access the short-term memory of a host, creating further difficulty in detection

though long-term memory is beyond their reach, which is another way they can be spotted.”

Akaar broke in. “Finding them is difficult; subduing them even more so. We know that low-level phaser fire has no effect. Because they have the ability to neutralize pain receptors in the host body, and control adrenaline levels, anyone infected by one of these parasites can resist physical trauma

and is capable of enhanced physical strength, at least for short periods.”

No kidding. All six parasite cases on the station had fought when they’d been detected. One had managed to break a security officer’s arm and two ribs before the med techs could sedate it; a second had given Corporal Hava a concussion.

Dr. Bashir had a few more technical questions for Girani about the isoboramine connection, the neurotransmitter that was apparently shared by both Trill symbiont and parasite, most of which Ro couldn’t follow. From the slight frowns around the table, she figured she wasn’t the only one left behind by the medical jargon

though she noticed that both of the Trill present seemed to be following along without much trouble. Girani answered as best she could, but it was apparent that research on the parasites was still in its earliest stages. That much, everyone could understand.

Girani seated herself and Cyl gave his brief, noncommittal speech: There had been a chance encounter with some kind of a parasite nearly a century before, a joint Starfleet Trill science expedition that had resulted in several deaths—but the Trill files on the event had been lost, nothing was definite about the symbiont parasite connection, he had come to investigate on Trill’s behalf and to offer his assistance. He offered up a few “theoretical” ideas about how the parasites might communicate with one another if there was, in fact, some relation between them and the symbionts beyond a similar genetic code, and then took his seat again.

Just as with the first time she’d heard it, Ro was convinced that he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming, but she had nothing solid on which to base her suspicions. Kira had told her that the general had appeared just before the Gryphon’s return to DS9, claiming, as Gard had, that the parasites wanted to destroy Trill. Their motivation still hadn’t been explained to Ro’s satisfaction. The Starfleet file on the century-old incident wasn’t particularly helpful, nor was Gard, and the general would say only that the parasitic threat to Trill was part of an ancient mythology, so ancient that no one could remember the circumstances surrounding it. As Quark would say, an utter load of—

“Lieutenant?” Kira asked, and Ro realized that she was asking it for the second time, that everyone was watching her.

So much for making an impression. Ro quickly stood and gave her report, referring to the padds at hand a number of times, though she knew the information without looking. She wanted to be as precise as possible, particularly with Akaar looking on; his doubts about her still ran deep. Usually that didn’t bother her, she was used to Starfleet brass looking down on her past, but he had been particularly blatant about it, especially since their confrontation in ops, when she’d discovered Gard’s hiding place. Akaar had loudly and publicly doubted her assertion that Gard was still on the station, and had been less than thrilled to be proved wrong.

Ro went over the security measures currently in place on the station, explaining the sweep process she had set up, cross-scanning station residents by several rotating criteria. It seemed to be effective so far, although the sweeps would have to be ongoing throughout the crisis unless they could create a better scan procedure

or institute a real lockdown, quarantining those who’d tested clean, not a possibility if they meant to keep the situation classified. There were three official incidents of “civil unrest” on the Promenade to report, all due to the Cardassian presence—two shouting matches and one thankfully bloodless scuffle between a Cardassian soldier and a trio of youthful Bajorans. The only good to come out of the lockdown was that there’d been no further tension at the Bajoran temple; in her opinion, the stresses between the “new religion” and the old continued to seethe under the surface of things, but for the time being, the Ohalavaru had stopped their scattered demonstrations. Perhaps they were still trying to digest Vedek Yevir’s dramatic recovery of the last missing Orbs, presented just before Shakaar was murdered—practically assuring the conservative Vedek’s election to kai—or perhaps they were simply like the rest of Bajor, shocked and in mourning over their loss.

Ro finished with an update on the tracking difficulties being experienced by the investigation teams on Bajor. She’d conferred with General Lenaris just before the briefing, and he could only report that progress was slow; they’d managed to locate and clear only three more civilians in the past two days. Someone had started a rumor that the Cardassians were around because Cardassia was joining the Federation, and that their military was already being absorbed into Starfleet—a complete falsehood that was making it nearly impossible to get anything done. Federation inquiries about the whereabouts of private citizens were not being well received.

Ro waited for questions.

“What about Gard?” Ezri asked, her tone somewhat sharp.

“He still refuses to talk, beyond what he’s already told us,” Ro said. Except to Cyl, she added mentally, though she couldn’t prove it. The general was being given “latitude” in the investigation, which meant he’d interviewed Gard without surveilance or an escort. The general had been to see the assassin twice, but had insisted both times that Gard hadn’t revealed any new information

which only added to Ro’s conviction that he was holding back.

No one else had anything for her. Relieved, Ro sat, aware that Akaar was watching her with a critical gaze. He really was starting to irritate her. She’d already made public her decision to resign from the Bajoran Militia, she wouldn’t be joining Starfleet when and if Bajor finally signed into the Federation; what more did he want?

“Here’s where I think we should go from here,” Kira said, taking the floor again. “As the admiral suggested, Commander Vaughn, I’d like to see you lead the Bajoran surface check. I’m sure General Lenaris would be more than happy to assist you with whatever resources you require.”

Vaughn nodded, saying nothing.

“Dr. Bashir, doctors Girani and Tarses have already recommended that you take over the medical research into the parasite-host relationship. They’ll assist, of course, and continue to manage the station’s medical facilities.”

Bashir nodded. “I’d like to start by looking into the apparent Cardassian immunity,” he said.

“Good,” Kira said. “I’ll see that you have a few volunteers standing by. Ensign ch’Thane, Lieutenant Nog—we need to develop more effective scanning equipment for the station, and if possible, for ship-to-surface use on Bajor. Nog, see if there’s something you can do with the Defiant’s sensors, if there’s any chance of creating a long-range-scan process. Get a team on it. And Shar, I’ll need you to coordinate with lieutenants Ro and Nog, and Dr. Bashir, to improve the equipment we already have and to keep everyone apprised of new biological information as it comes in.

“Medical, sciences, security, and engineering are going to have to work together closely on this. We all are. And it goes without saying, we must do what we can to contain this information for as long as possible—tell your people only what they need to know. It’s going to get out, but even a day might make a difference.”

She turned her slightly haunted gaze to Ezri. “Dax, perhaps you and the general could try talking to Gard again. He might be more receptive; he told Lieutenant Ro that he had some interaction with one of your past hosts.”

Ezri frowned into the middle distance and nodded.

Interesting, Ro thought. Whatever Dax’s connection to Gard, Ezri clearly wasn’t eager to renew it. Ro wondered if he’d been the same duplicitous bastard then as now. She and Gard had been friendly to the point of flirting for days before the assassination; in his guise of arranging security for the Trill ambassador and other Federation delegates, he’d duped her along with everyone else.

“In any case, see if you can access anything on the possibility of a historical connection between the symbionts and parasites,” Kira said. “We’ll arrange a directed link to Trill’s comnet, and I’m sure the general and Ambassador Gandres will both be glad to help. The general has assured us that he’s already scoured the files, but I’d like to go at this from every possible angle.”

Every possible angle, Ro thought, as Kira finished with the assignments. It seemed that Kira had done just that, covering all the options they had. The colonel asked Bowers to go with Vaughn to Bajor

and then the meeting was over, and Ro was wondering what they had missed.

Security, Starfleet backup, medical, equipment changes

Ro couldn’t help thinking that they’d forgotten something, something important. Maybe it was just the situation itself, so sudden and strange and full of variables, that gave her such a feeling of unrest.

Or maybe it’s the fact that we barely know what we’re up against, and they may have infected half of Bajor by now. Hyperbole, maybe, but it was also frighteningly possible.

The assembled group pushed away from the conference table, breaking into smaller groups—Nog and Shar, Vaughn and Bowers and Akaar, Cyl and Dax. Kira, Macet, and Councillor zh’Thane started talking to the two doctors. Ro realized she had no one she needed to coordinate with, at least not immediately, and didn’t feel like it was the time to go through welcome-back formalities; everyone had things to do. Nodding acknowledgment to the people that noticed her leaving, she gathered her padds and slipped out, deciding that it might be a good time to visit Quark. She owed him, anyway, he’d been trying to get hold of her all week, and except for planting the story about possible assassin rings with him, she hadn’t had time to talk.

Besides, she decided, heading for the Promenade, between the symbiont-parasite connection and Cardassia joining the Federation, there seemed to be a lot of rumors flying around

and Quark was just the man to see about a rumor.

Nog walked over to Shar as soon as the meeting broke up, all too aware that the Andorian’s mother was only a few meters away. In Shar’s position, he’d definitely want someone to rescue him

and after hearing about the parasites, Nog wouldn’t exactly mind some friendly, uninfected company, either.

“I thought I’d head back to the Defiant right after I get something to eat,” he said, cutting a glance at the Federation ambassador. She was talking to Kira and the doctors about something or other. “You know, look things over, start thinking about how we can alter the sensor array. I mean, I could do it with the computer, but it’s never the same just looking at the schematics. Why don’t you come with me? I could use an idea man.”

Shar was also looking at his mother. His zhavey, as he called her.

“I’d best not, sir,” he said slowly. “I believe I have personal business to attend to.”

When was the last time he called me “sir”? Shar must have been seriously shaken by his mother’s less than enthusiastic reception. Nog couldn’t imagine getting such a cold greeting from anyone in his family, after so long away; even Uncle Quark would work up enough enthusiasm to yell at him about something.

Nog gave it one more shot. The Defiant’s replicators had been out for weeks, forcing all of them to get used to field rations

and he, for one, had been dreaming of the perfect meal for much of that time. “We just got back. Don’t you at least want to have some real food before—” Nog tried to think of a delicate way to put it, but could only come up with one of Vic’s quips. “—before you, ah, face the music?” He wasn’t sure of the exact meaning, but the context seemed right.

Shar blinked, then tried on a smile. As usual, it looked almost genuine, but Nog knew better; culturally, Andorians generally only smiled as a manipulative tool, and Shar was still working out the humor/affection possibilities.

“Thank you, Nog. I appreciate your offer, but I really must decline. Later, perhaps.”

Even as Shar spoke, Councillor zh’Thane broke away from her conversation and moved to join them. “Lieutenant. Thirishar.”

Nog nodded at her, doing his best not to grin in welcome. Unlike on Andor, a wide smile was an ingratiating trait on Ferenginar, expressing a willingness to do business or to encourage enthusiasm, but he still remembered a few of the rules of the Academy’s xeno-etiquette class

chief among them, Don’t offend Federation Council members.

“Ma’am,” he said politely, but her attention was already fixed on her son.

“I wonder if we might speak in private,” she said, her voice and manner as cool as her expression. “Perhaps you would escort me to your quarters?”

“Yes, Zhavey,” Shar said dutifully. He’d also gone entirely cool, not a glimmer of expression on his dusky blue face. “Please excuse me, Lieutenant.”

“Sure, of course,” Nog said, and bowed his head at zh’Thane, but she was already walking away, Shar right behind her. Nog winced internally. Unless he’d misread the situation, Shar was in for a tough time.

Seems like we all are, Nog thought, the reality of the parasite predicament still not quite

well, real. It had all been dropped on them in one enormous swoop, as Vic might say; Nog hadn’t even adjusted to being back in the Alpha Quadrant, yet. Over dinner, he’d work out a plan, come up with a team, figure out where to start

for now, he just desperately wanted a decent plate of food, as much for the time to let the situation settle in as for the taste of an unpackaged meal.

Nog shuddered. Parasites that attached themselves to people’s brains. If there was anything more horrible or disgusting, he couldn’t imagine it.

Fresh toasted tube grubs, he thought suddenly, and felt his mouth watering. Maybe a spore-jelly fritter on the side

and a root-beer float for dessert. Perfect.

The Defiant would have to wait another half hour. Nog quickly said his good-byes and hurried off to eat.