13

THE NOTIFICATION THAT THE O’BRIENS HAD ARRIVED CAME FROM THE station late, just as they were getting ready to turn in, and instantly banished all thoughts of sleep from Jake’s mind. Learning that his grandfather had suffered an attack of some kind after hearing that Jake had disappeared had been weighing on him, as he couldn’t help but feel responsible; seeing him again would be a relief, in all kinds of ways. And he hadn’t seen his aunt since just after Jadzia had been killed, when he and Dad had gone back to Earth. Even then, they’d only had one dinner together; Aunt Jude had been leaving for a Sol system tour with the orchestra.

Jake and Kasidy hurried outside, Kas pulling a shawl around herself as they stood on the back patio, overlooking a rolling field of brush and wild kava, pale and multishadowed in the soft glow of the moons. Something about being awake and excited so late made Jake feel like a child again, up past his bedtime for a holiday, some special occasion. Kas seemed to feel the same, fidgeting anxiously as they waited, almost giggly with anticipation. Whoever had called from the station said that the party would transport down as soon as they’d been given clearance to enter orbit, which meant anywhere from five minutes to who knew how long, but Jake had no intentions of waiting inside. He wanted his face to be the first his grandfather saw.

Jake spotted a grouping of lights north and west of the property, a few small fires, perhaps. They seemed awfully close to the house for a campsite. “What’s over there?” he asked.

Kas smiled. “Remember I told you I’ve had some volunteer help around here? And those monks that stopped by, yesterday?”

“Really?” Though it made sense that the locals would want to watch over Kasidy, Jake was surprised that they would actually camp out

and felt an echo of his guilt returning, for having been away for so long.

Kas seemed to sense it in him. She took her hands off the small of her back—what he’d come to think of as the pregnancy pose—long enough to pat his arm reassuringly. “You’re here now,” she said. “Besides, they just want to make sure the Emissary’s wife doesn’t happen to lose communications, break her leg, and go into labor all at the same time.”

Jake felt a surge of protectiveness for her. “With the chief and everyone coming, I can tell them we’re okay

“

“Feel free to try,” Kas said. “I’ve been telling them that I’m perfectly fine for weeks now. They seem determined to stay, and I don’t really mind the—”

Whatever else she was going to say was abruptly cut short by the shimmer of a transporter effect, five beams a dozen meters in front of them. In the beat it took them to fully materialize, Jake saw that Mrs. O’Brien—he still thought of her as his old schoolteacher—was holding her small son against one hip. All was silent for another beat, and then Granddad’s strong, deep voice called his name, the loved and familiar face emerging from the gloom as he stepped forward from behind the chief, arms open wide.

Though he’d had some vaguely formed idea of shaking his grandfather’s hand when they met again, the sound of the old man’s voice triggered some gut reaction, sent Jake hurrying over to be solidly embraced. Even light-years from his kitchen, Joseph Sisko smelled of good food, a faint odor of cooking garlic and wine that Jake had always associated with him. Joseph squeezed him hard, and as they stepped apart, Aunt Jude was there, all smiles, waiting her turn, exclaiming over how much he’d filled out.

As his family moved on to Kasidy, Jake had a clumsy embrace with Mrs. O’Brien, still holding Yoshi. His right leg was solidly tackled by Molly. He could hardly believe how much both of the children had grown, in so short a time.

“It’s good to see you, Jake,” the chief said warmly, extending his hand, as Molly pulled on his shirt, holding up a hardcopy child’s book.

“I can read you a story, Jake!”

“I can’t wait,” Jake said, scooping her up after shaking with the chief, as his grandfather slapped him on the back, aware that he had a big, stupid grin on his face, not caring one bit. He was with his family. The only thing missing

Nope, not tonight, Jake thought firmly. Kas and Judith were laughing about something, the shimmer of the transporter beam casting a fine light over them all as the luggage was beamed down. Tonight was just perfect as it was.

What if we bait her out?

The idea wasn’t new, it had already been rejected because of the obvious impossibility of an open quarantine, but if they could just get everyone on the station doing something else, somewhere else

What if we bait her out while everyone’s accounted for? If it was something that everyone was required to do, or see, that wouldn’t tip our hand. It would have to be big. Like a public address from Opaka and the first minister, perhaps

.

Ro walked slowly back to her office from the morning’s briefing, working the problem for what felt like the billionth time. Dr. Bashir had reiterated it yet again—while they could learn a lot about the species from the individual parasites, for any real breakthrough they needed to get their hands on a queen.

If we made the message available only on the Promenade, an announcement about the kai, maybe, or some standard patriotic speech about sticking together in times of crisis

and then sent a handful of three-person teams into the suspect areas, two to check and a third to stand watch with a scanner

Or

what if they made a big show of outfitting the Promenade with step-through scanners, making sure it got out that it was a new weapons check, something innocuous. Nog and Shar were getting closer to developing a scanner with the right sensitivity. Calibrating one to pick out subtle abnormalities in different types of humanoids—each of which had a spectrum of what constituted “normal” within their species—was still yielding too many false positives. But they could let the computer weed through the faces of everyone who showed, then check up on those who neglected to attend. Some of the individual parasites might try to slip through, but the queen carrier would surely avoid coming; she was a spawning ground, filled with parasites, and would set off even the most obtuse scanning equipment.

And yet we have no idea who has her. It felt like they’d run checks on everyone, thrice, and nothing.

Still, they hadn’t seriously considered trying to group the station population somewhere. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was enough to turn Ro around, hoping to catch Kira before she left the wardroom. The day’s briefing had been sadly lacking in innovation, and Ro figured that even an unlikely plan was worth a mention.

Nog and Shar were headed back to the Defiant together, and stopped for a minute to discuss the afternoon’s schedule. They thought they’d be ready to try one of their step-through scanners within the next twenty-six hours, which was something. They’d coordinate a test with Dr. Bashir, send one of the stasis field patients through; they agreed that Ro should attend. Ro wished them luck and continued on, thinking that both young men looked the way she felt—hopeless, or at least a little beaten down by the work that wasn’t getting done. She’d gotten used to the look on Shar since his return from the Gamma Quadrant, his personal troubles undoubtedly making his job that much harder, but even Nog, the perpetual optimist, seemed to be affected, his chin low, his tired eyes downcast as they walked away.

Things weren’t going well. New cases of infection continued to spring up here and there, on Bajor and the station, and nothing they were doing seemed to have any effect. Dax and Cyl would be back soon, but the news wasn’t good unless the Federation was willing to evacuate Trill and give it to the parasites, and that wasn’t going to happen. Commander Vaughn was still out on a medical, progress on the planet was achingly slow. The loss of Liro and Bennings had been an especially hard one for Ro, who had personally handed out the assignments. Admin was still trying to keep the carriers’ identities under wraps, but Ro’s people knew what had happened, it was obvious, and morale was down. Akaar’s attitude about the two security guards, when it had come up—that they were casualties of war, like some abstract concept—made Ro angry and sad.

Maybe Quark has the right idea, after all. He’d actually tried to bribe Taran’atar to be his personal bodyguard, to no avail. It wasn’t such a far-fetched idea, in a way; it made sense that the parasites would try to target people as high up on the command ladder as they could get, and though she doubted that Quark was even on their list, individual surveillance and protection might be in order for the station’s officers.

Ro turned the corner to the wardroom offshoot—and froze, hearing Kira’s voice coming from around the next turn, the wardroom proper. She had to be standing in the doorway, and she sounded tense.

“

which I’ve already put in my report,” she said, a thread of cold in her tone. “I’d think you’d want to give credit where credit is due, Admiral.”

Akaar. That explained the tone, anyway. Kira kept a game face when it came to the admiral, but Ro could see that she often had to struggle to maintain it. He wasn’t a bad man, even Ro knew that much, but there were some things about which he could be inflexible. For someone as unorthodox as Kira, that had to rankle.

“If you want to suggest a commendation, that’s is your prerogative,” Akaar’s voice came back, equally cold. “But we have vastly more important matters at stake, Colonel, than whether or not your security chief decides to stay.”

Ro’s blood seemed to stand still; they were talking about her. She knew she should walk away, that listening to private conversations was a good way to complicate one’s life—she learned as much eavesdropping on Taran’atar and Wex—but as before, she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to.

“After all she’s done,” Kira snapped, “finding the assassin, tracking down the planet—”

“Colonel, step inside. The corridor is not shielded.”

Kira’s voice dropped, but she didn’t go back in. “I don’t think we have anything to discuss. You obviously have a personal stake in this matter, some grudge that you mean to hold on to regardless of her exemplary performance throughout this ordeal.”

“Colonel, please. Now is not the time for this. I will make my report on Ro Laren as I see fit, as is my prerogative, but for now, we need to talk about another matter. If you will step inside

“

A second later, the hiss of a closing door.

Ro didn’t move, her heart thumping, bits of the conversation repeating in her mind. Commendation. After all she’s done. Exemplary performance. Akaar’s issues with her were common knowledge, and for the most part, so was Kira’s support—but to actually hear the colonel stand up for her, go up against Starfleet’s representative in Bajor’s transition to the Federation

Ro smiled, unable to help it, and felt a kind of ache at the same time, low in her gut. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it, to feel pride at a job she was bowing out of, a job she’d never wanted

but it didn’t matter. What the Colonel seemed to have forgotten was that working alongside Starfleet personnel again, even as an officer of the Bajoran Militia in Bajoran territory, was hard enough. Expecting her to do so after the changeover, or thinking that Starfleet would even want her back after all the bad blood on both sides, was misguided and unrealistic.

And I’m nothing if not realistic.

Ro shook her head, backing away from the wardroom. Akaar had one thing right—there were much more important things to worry about. She’d head back to the office, make some notes, talk to Kira a bit later—

Halfway down the corridor, she turned—and jumped, startled. A middle-aged Bajoran woman was standing right behind her, a vaguely familiar face—she worked in the small tourism office on the Promenade, Ro thought, though she wasn’t certain.

“Excuse me,” Ro said, stepping to one side.

The woman stepped to the same side. Ro smiled, the woman smiled back—but something was wrong. The smile didn’t touch the woman’s eyes, which were dark and opened wide, and she was starting to say something, but her mouth was opening wide, too, too wide for speech. Inside, something stirred.

Ro didn’t think. She dropped into a crouch, snatching at her phaser, stun won’t work, in the reports it said—

No time to fix it. The woman was leaning over, and with the barest cough of sound, she vomited a squirming insectile creature from the dark hole of her mouth. It happened fast. Ro fired at her with one hand, instinctively batting the dropping parasite away with the other, her skin crawling at the wet, moving touch of it against her palm.

The woman took a single step back and grinned, unharmed, barely affected as the creature scrabbled across the meter or so of corridor between them, moving impossibly fast. Ro threw herself backward, kicking at it, horribly aware that she had seconds, at most, not a free hand to call for security, a phaser that she might just as well throw—

Ro screamed, as loud as she could, snapping her mouth closed a split second later as the parasite leapt, its hard, strong, chitinous legs ripping at her lips, prying at her teeth, trying to force her jaws apart.

The day’s meeting had not been an inspiring one, for anyone. Even had Shar not been able to sense the lack of enthusiastic energy, the grim faces of the attending officers had communicated the mood clearly enough.

As soon as the meeting was over, he and Nog started back for the Defiant, walking in silence. Shar found his thoughts turning away from their work and back to Prynn Tenmei, where they’d found focus quite often since their lunch together. Not so much the young woman herself, but the questions she had raised for him. Thinking about Dizhei and Anichent, about Thriss, about his damaged relationship with his zhavey—these things were too much, too consuming, when he needed his primary attentions to center on his role in countering the parasite invasion. But the gently bittersweet dilemma of his future relationships, of love, bonding, sexual intimacy

these were things he’d never thought upon before, had never needed to consider, and he was discovering them to be diversions that didn’t wound him overmuch to entertain.

They stopped to coordinate briefly with Ro Laren, then continued on their way. Nog began thinking aloud about the fabrication aspects of their current detection design, rattling off numbers and theory, but it was all material they’d already discussed. Shar continued to think on Prynn’s curiosity, and on her expressed interest in spending time with him. He didn’t realize that Nog had stopped walking, had asked him a direct question and was waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, Nog,” Shar said. “What did you ask?”

“I asked if you had something on your mind,” Nog said. When Shar hesitated, Nog shrugged, smiling widely. “Forget it. None of my business, right? Unless

I mean, if you ever wanted to talk about anything, that would be okay with me.”

It wasn’t the first time that Nog had offered. In fact, most of his new friends on DS9 had invited him to share his emotions with them, if he so desired. In his own culture, feelings were not so casually discussed among acquaintances

but then, his adherence to Andorian custom no longer seemed to be of much importance, did it? If this was to be his home now, these the people that were his social contacts, perhaps he should try something new.

“I was thinking of Prynn Tenmei,” Shar said, deciding to be as concise as possible. He didn’t want Nog to be burdened in any way by his own frivolous thoughts. “She has suggested that she and I develop a closer friendship, and this has raised, for me, considerations of my future personal life.”

Nog blinked, seemed dumbstruck for a moment, then grinned ever wider. “You and Prynn? That’s interesting.”

Shar hurried to clarify. “I don’t mean to suggest—that is, I am not currently interested in pursuing a

familiarity with anyone.” Even saying it aloud made him wince internally, his inner voice shouting that he’d had his opportunity, that he’d destroyed it.

“Right, I gotcha,” Nog said, still smiling, nodding. “But it’s something to think about, particularly now that

“

He trailed off uncomfortably, but only for a second before pushing his grin ever wider. “But she’s something, isn’t she?”

Shar wasn’t sure how to answer. Prynn was a human, a lesser-ranked coworker, a pilot. “In what capacity?” he asked.

“In the female capacity,” Nog said, and blinked one eye. He seemed happy to be talking about something besides work. There was a glint of enthusiasm in his gaze that had been absent only seconds before. “They can be complicated, though. You should talk to Vic about it, if you want some pointers.”

Vic Fontaine, the hologram. Shar hadn’t yet met the program, he’d scarcely had a free moment since his assignment to the station, but Nog referred to him often. “Vic has points to make, about females?”

Nog nodded eagerly. “When this is all over, we can go together, it’ll be fun. I owe him a visit anyway, and—”

The Ferengi broke off suddenly, his gaze going blank, his head cocking. He held the pose a beat, then frowned.

“Did you hear a—”

A short, sharp scream came from behind them, back toward the conference room. Nog and Shar both started running, Nog calling for security, Shar pulling ahead as his friend called off coordinates.

Shar turned a corner, the corridor leading back to the smaller offshoot of the wardroom—and saw Ro Laren, on her knees, clawing at her face. A woman, Bajoran, was standing between them, and as Shar ran to help Ro, the woman whipped around to face him. Her mouth, there was something wrong with it, something moving behind her wide grin—

—parasites—

—and Shar did what came most naturally, what Starfleet had trained him not to do when faced with conflict. In an instant he was overcome with rage, with a seething hatred for the Bajoran invader, for the creatures that even now were creeping from her gaping mouth. Without hesitating, he leapt up and kicked, first with one leg and then the other as his body twisted in mid-air. Both blows landed solidly, the first against the host’s face, the second against her chest.

The impact sent her flying backward. He caught a glimpse of her dull surprise before he landed on the floor, hard, and immediately rolled to his knees to help Ro. The parasite carrier was also getting up, but had landed several meters away, giving him a fraction of a second to get to the struggling security officer. Behind him, he heard Nog shouting into his com, clarifying the situation, but Shar’s own rage made the sounds incomprehensible. For him, there was only the immediate threat, only the desire to kill the attacking creature.

Ro had two of the tiny animal’s legs in one hand, was trying to pull it from her upper lip with little success. It had dug into the right corner of her mouth with its overlarge pincers, its small, pointed tail squirming against the left corner, seeking a way inside. A small amount of blood was trickling down Ro’s chin, smearing down her throat. Without pausing to consider how best to remove it, Shar snatched at the creature, grasping the middle of its body firmly. He jammed the forefinger of his other hand in between the scissoring pincers and then yanked. Ro cried out but the parasite came away, its body flipping and writhing in Shar’s hand, its claws gouging into his skin. Still holding it tightly, he slammed it into the floor, hyperextending his arm, pressing the heel of his hand through its hard little body. He felt wetness, a satisfying warmth spreading from beneath his fingers. It still moved, but weakly now, slowly.

The Bajoran host, the carrier, was back on her feet. Two, three more parasites had fallen from her unhinged jaw, were already darting across the corridor to where Shar and Ro sat, where Nog was standing. Shar hissed at the woman, at the insectile runners, overcome by the need to destroy them, his teeth gnashing with the need to bite and grind, to rip them apart—

—and two of the small creatures froze, the woman, too, suddenly and completely, stopped as solidly as a holo on command. The third parasite, closer to Shar and Ro than the others, made it only a few centimeters further before the blast of a phaser obliterated it.

Wide-eyed, Shar turned, his antennae sensing the contained stasis field before it registered mentally, saw the three security officers standing near Nog. One had his phaser outstretched, while the others held out two stasis projectors. A half second later, a pair of med techs beamed into the corridor and ran to Ro’s side. One of them asked Shar if he’d been injured, but he ignored her, breathing deeply, releasing the violence that he’d allowed into his consciousness, into his body.

Ro stared for a moment at the frozen Bajoran woman, at the pair of creatures by her feet, then looked at him, smiling even as she winced, as a tech blotted at her torn lip with a steady hand.

“I’m sorry—” Shar started, regaining himself as he motioned at her bleeding mouth, but Ro shook her head, her smile widening.

“We have a queen,” she said, and though he’d let go of the violence, though he was fully himself again, there was enough of it in him still to allow Shar a smile in turn, a grin of blood-lust triumph at the understanding. They had a queen.