LEGACY An Alternative History of the Dominion War Year 1 Part 1 - Flight Chapter 2 The rest gathered where they could see, along the splintered shops of the Promenade. It was important to watch the Antelope as it left, and to see if any of the Dominion ships followed. None really knew if it was a ruse. But they knew that now they no longer had any protection. The Bajoran extremists had seen to that. When the lumbering ship seemed to get away peacefully, there was a heartfelt, if brief, cheer. Then the remaining population of the station went back to what they'd been doing for several days, hours of stripping and packing. Kira was in command of the station, Bashir the last of the senior staff. But little of this mattered. The two of them, the Starfleet people left behind to do important work, the Bajorans, and the scattering of foreign nationals all shared a sense of foreboding that was almost palpable. They were being allowed to stay, unharmed, only because the Dominion hadn't bothered with them . . .yet. If anyone had not believed they were on their own before, there was no doubt now. The packing was very important. Their original destination had been a starbase with supplies, but none had any idea what would happen when they left. The little Ag colony wouldn't be prepared. Starfleet might be busy and it might take time. Sisko's group had had less time to wonder. Bashir and Kira's would have longer to doubt. If things had gone very badly for Starfleet, conditions could get very hard. The Bajorans knew about refugee camps. Kira had made sure Bashir took everything he could pry from the medical equipment. Despite Barrett's opinions, blankets and as much food as they could store were added to the cargo. The containers, when full, were labeled and moved to the dock, ready to load. They wouldn't waste any time, but would fill the little ship with as much cargo as would fit. The passengers would have to live with the crowding. It wasn't going to be that long of a trip, anyway. But nobody complained. If it got them away from those ships, they were willing to put up with almost anything. It was going to be a very long two days before the Antelope returned. ***** It had been garbled, but Kira had recognized the private code Keiko used when leaving personal messages to her husband. It was for messages not to be shared. But at the moment Miles was on his way, reluctantly, to Federation territory. Kira took it upon herself to read the message. It was brief and hurried, slipped out between noise so it might not be traced. They were all right, and had made it to the rendezvous point. The others werethere too. They all hoped to leave Bajor soon. Kira knew the place well. Sitting in the darkness of her quarters, surrounded by enemy ships, she wondered if it might be possible to slip a runabout in quickly enough and bring their people back to the station. Sisko might have agreed, if persuaded. But he was with Miles. Kira was in charge, and there was nobody to tell her not to. She went looking for Bashir, and was told he was busy packing food and medicine as fast as it could be located. Everyone was working, carrying supplies to the crates, packing or moving filled ones to the loading dock. Already, they'd set up the final orders Sisko had discussed, and stripped most all that could be brought along. She passed a few of the stores, abandoned after the attack. Inside, there were useful things, some not of immediate value, but she knew how much a token of comfort could mean in a few months if things went wrong. There might be room. She found a few Bajorans pushing an empty crate past the stores and ordered them to fill it with as much as they could. Just in case they got stranded, she said, and they understood. The Starfleet people wouldn't. They probably assumed the Federation would come and rescue them. She caught up with Bashir on the dock. Someone had discovered it was easier to bring things to crates than to move them full. He was dirty and tired, a gleam of sweat on his face from the work. She had gotten a drink for him, knowing he'd like one. In an isolated corner, she made her proposal. "I think I can slip in with the mountain cover and get to them. It's too risky for everyone else for the transport to get that near, so if they're on the station that problem is solved," she explained. He listened carefully. It wasn't normal procedures, but then, he wasn't opposed to bending them when it was more important. His best friend's family was stranded there, too. If there was a way to save them without risking everyone else's lives, she bet he'd agree. "Just you?" he asked, sipping the bottle of soda she'd taken from Quark's bar. "I have a few volunteers. If they get stranded on Bajor they'd rather be there anyway. And the Rio Grande isn't going to help anybody get away from here." "And you'll stay," he said. "You and Odo." She looked away. "I don't know. They'll need a good pilot. If they don't have anyone I'll come back." He looked at the dock with its frantic activity. "Do what you have to do," he said grimly. She watched as he walked away, trying to remember when he didn't understand, too. ***** Bashir was in command now. The Rio Grande had left a few hours before, with Kira and several eager Bajoran volunteers. He assumed she'd return, but doubted the others would. Like everyone else, they wanted to go home. There was nothing left on the station that could save them. If the Antelope didn't make it back, they'd end up as prisoners. He stared at the screen, taking some time from packing, waiting to hear that the families were on board and safely headed back. Or dead. Or lost. He knew Kira's plan wasn't safe or smart, but it wouldn't hurt to try. If Miles hadn't been forced to go, he'd have helped her *take* the Rio Grande without permission if necessary. Odo had stayed. Bashir was a little surprised, but assumed Odo had some secret plan of his own if things went wrong. How hard would it be for *them* to find a shapeshifter who didn't want to be found? His quiet was interrupted by Odo. There had been a transmission. As the most senior of the remaining staff, he had to answer. He didn't like having to be in Sisko's office, sitting in Sisko's chair, but told himself he could maintain his control long enough to get this over with. It was Weyoun. He recognized Bashir by name. The smile gave him the creeps. He did his best to not let it show. "Well, Doctor. I'm surprised you're still here. I would think you would have left early. I'll have to amend our records." They know, thought Bashir. "What do you want?" he asked. "I have a message for you. Your shuttle was forced to land and was destroyed. Should you send anything else near Bajor there won't be anyone on the station to rescue when your barge arrives. Is this clear, or do I need to stage a demonstration?" Bashir was perfectly well aware of the range of Dominion transporters. And there was nothing more to send to Bajor anyway. "No, that won't be necessary." he said in the calmest voice he could manage. "We'll leave Bajor alone." "I hope so. I'm not ready to deal with prisoners." Bashir gathered his courage to explain. "The people on the shuttle were Bajorans. They just wanted to go home. Perhaps you could suggest a safer way for them to do that." Weyoun looked amused. "Your Bajorans could stay on the station when you leave. We'll take care of them. As for you, Doctor, take care. There could be a nice dark little box waiting for you." Bashir didn't manage to cover all of the reaction. Weyoun smiled. "I'm glad you remember. Keep that in mind before you try any heroics." ***** Kira knew, as soon as she was near Bajor, that it wasn't likely to succeed. There were too many ships. There was a chance they might land, but leaving with a full runabout and making it away without being destroyed would be almost impossible. But she had to try. Sliding into the atmosphere she caught the attention of a Jem'Hadar ship. It fired, but the runabout was small and it wasn't that hard to avoid being hit. But she wasn't as lucky when the second ship fired. The bolt of energy hit at midship. It wasn't strong enough to destroy the runabout, but it damaged a number of systems. She was hit several more times, and then the runabout was nearly out of control. Nearly. It could still be nudged one direction or the other. Kira sent it away from the rendezvous point. At least she would not endanger any more of them and might be able to make it back on foot to get them to a much safer locations in the mountains. ***** Bashir was so tired he decided to try to sleep. Late that night, he had again been awakened by a beep. There was another message. Taking a deep breath, he told himself they had done nothing to Weyoun. Or so he hoped. He had it patched into his quarters. It was garbled and scratchy, but it was a working connection to Bajor. Kira's face filled the screen. "You don't look very dead. According to Weyoun you were forced to land." "He's right about that part. But they didn't find us. What matters is that we have the families. We're sending them to various places so it will be harder to find them." "We can't transport them then." "If you do, they'll destroy the ship. The fighting here won't last much longer. We have to get them into hiding now." He was frustrated. He needed to help, but there was nothing he could do. She could tell. She'd understood how he'd changed when he came back from the prison, too. He couldn't help Tain or Worf then, either. "There is a request I'm to pass on. Any Bajorans on the station or elsewhere should be evacuated. Don't ask them. They will be needed away from Bajor." That was a lot of people they hadn't planned on having along. It was going to be very crowded. He had decided to take the mantle of authority and ordered everyone to stay within the habitat ring or the docking bay unless they had a good reason to be elsewhere. That one hadn't been popular, but it kept the security people open for real threats. This one was going to be less popular. "I will. I can't force anyone to go, but Weyoun offered to take care of any Bajorans who wanted to stay on the station." "Interesting choice of words." "I don't think he'll have any takers." "Look, tell Odo goodbye for me." He thought of Miles, and how hard it would be for him when he knew his family was lost, how many times he'd wish he'd found a way to stay behind. At least Odo would know before. He watched the screen go blank. He pushed back his chair, staring at the screen as he forced open the door, no longer sliding open to his command. There was a strange feeling on the station, a mixture of fear and worry and unity. Everyone knew that should they do something to offend the Dominion they would be dead and the station empty. He wasn't alone anymore. It was easier if everyone was scared, but did what had to be done anyway. ***** The Promenade was almost dark, a gloomy dark that matched night at the internment camp. In the deserted replimat, he sat alone. He had tried sleeping, but the nightmares were too vivid. He had listened to the reports from Bajor for awhile, but it just made things worse. Those left behind after the first transport had left were keeping busy, trying to pack what they could off the station, but it didn't help the sense of helplessness. With the Rio Grande gone, they had no way to leave. He wondered if he should have tried to stop Kira, somehow. But he suspected she would have tried anyway. The next day the transport would be back. Everything was ready. If then Dominion chose not to wait and turned their attention to the station, it was his fault his patients were still here. There was a sound and he jumped. A hand rested on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to startle you, Doctor. I'm not medically trained, but even I can see you should perhaps get some sleep." Garak. He had frozen at the touch. Teeth clenched, he said, "Please, don't touch me." It surprised Garak, but he moved. He sat down in a nearby chair, looking oddly at the doctor. Bashir felt a little ashamed of himself, but did not feel like explaining. Garak could figure it out himself. "Do you know," he began slowly, "what happens to us if we are taken prisoner?" Garak sighed, resigned. "I suppose I would be executed. Perhaps you as well." "I think I could live with that," said Bashir. "Rather that than spending the rest of my life in that hellhole." There was a prolonged silence. "Have you had any word from the Major?" "A short message. The runabout was destroyed. She and the others got away. They are going to try to help the families, see if they can get them to a better hiding place. At least I can tell Miles they were alive this long. Assuming I have the chance." There was another silence. "I'm sorry about before. Something that happened there." "I quite understand, Doctor. They are a little too close for comfort for myself as well." It was ironic, he thought. Kira had understood. Garak had as well. Miles probably would have. But most of the people he'd called friends before, on Earth, would not have had a clue. At least not yet, he thought grimly. Another silence came. "You know, Doctor, since neither of us are likely to sleep, and this gloom isn't going to help, perhaps we should be making ourselves useful instead." "That's a very good idea." ***** Right up to the last minute, they were still filling crates. Nobody was in any mood to sleep, and Bashir had ordered everyone to stay close to the area. There wasn't going to be time to look for anyone who wandered. Following up on Kira's idea, he did allow a select group to go through cabins and shops, taking what might not be easily replaced. None of those left on the station for the second run were very confident of a quick rescue. The comm system picked up news from Bajor, and none of the news was good. Perhaps those who lived when the Cardassians had first taken Bajor might have disagreed, but so far the Dominion was proving a colder, more dangerous enemy than the old one. Acts of terrorism were met with ruthless destruction. The existing government of Bajor had been rounded up and shot. The Jem'Hadar were everywhere. The resistance would not last long. The masters of the Dominion gave no value to the life of solids, not even their own soldiers. They could just make more. If anything went wrong, the future would be a hard, cold place. Then a young Bajoran ran into the dock without a word. The Antelope was almost there. The already frantic pace got worse, in hopes of packing a few more crates and saving a few more things which might make the difference. The remaining patients were carried to the dock in preparation, cots ready for them to rest. When the old freighter docked with the station, everyone was waiting. All of the crates were lined up ready to move into the ship. ***** Aside from a headcount, nobody took records. The patients were carried in first, fortunately only a few, and given their own corner of a bay. The cargo was loaded by the rest, working together to load the two bays at once. When filled, crates were shoved into one end of the large area as well. Bashir made his last walk to Ops. Enough of main power was on to run the final program which would disable the computer and destroy the remaining controls. The Dominion could take the station, but would have to fix it first. It was done. The lights flashed and died. Every control went blank. He walked back to the docking bay as the last crates were loaded and the final crew was boarding. Barrett asked him to the bridge. He was still carrying his bags, unsure where to put them. There was much less room than they'd imagined. "Permission to leave dock?" asked Barrett. "Certainly," said Bashir, and the Antelope retracted its docking locks and sailed away. It had all been accomplished in less than an hour. ***** The delegation numbered four, though they represented twenty individuals wishing to leave for Bajor. Among them was Odo. The Antelope had just moved away from the station when they arrived. Captain Barrett looked hard at them. Bashir was standing in the back, watching. "It will be very fast," said Odo. "Just before you go to warp will be a good time." "I see. You’re assuming that I'm planning to go to warp." "Captain," said one of the Bajorans, trying to look confident, "there are one hundred and fifty passengers on this ship which is currently equipped for no more than eighty. Having twenty less passengers could be very advantageous." The Captain had looked at the two bays, filled way past capacity, and was worried about his ship. He studied Bashir, still watching from the back, and motioned for him to come forward. Bashir looked exhausted. He studied the captain for a moment. "Yes?" he asked. "You've been sitting in the middle of this target range for a couple of days. How risky is this?" "There is some risk," said Bashir, a hint of warning in his tone. "How much is some?" "Some. I don't know. Ask Weyoun if you want to know." He gave the doctor an annoyed look. "Will they destroy us if we beam these men over?" Bashir paused for a moment, thinking of Kira, and of these men who wanted to be with their families. "They might. But if you time it right you can do it just before going to warp." Barrett watched the doctor's face. Bashir wasn't saying it but it was plain he would risk it. "In other words, you don't know. They might shoot us to pieces. Or they might let us go. But you'd do it. Tell me, why should I do this?" "We want to be with our families." said the younger Bajoran that had said nothing yet. He was simple but very eloquent. The captain stared at the four of them for a moment. "All right, get them in position." "We thank you." said the young man as they left the room. ***** The Antelope moved away slowly, this time taking a slightly different course than the first trip. This time she veered a bit closer to Bajor. Picking up speed, she sailed even nearer the planet, attempting to "skip" off the gravitational pull and increase speed. It was a classic maneuver for slower ships, one even the Dominion should recognize. At the closest proximity to Bajor, a signal beeped in the ship’s transporter room. Ten men sparkled and vanished. Ten more rushed to take their place. A Starfleet engineer stood by the controls, watching for confirmation. "It's good," he said and the next ten were gone. Then something hit the ship, shaking it violently. Apparently the Dominion did mind, or knew about the transport. Grabbing the console, he looked at the instruments. "They made it. Let's hope we do." Bashir, watching the button blinking, pressed it down. The freighter shot out at full impulse. His communicator chirped. He answered, tapping it lightly. "Doctor, we have injuries. Hurry up." He took off in a sprint. ***** Most of the injuries were not critical, but there were far too many. Passengers with regular accommodations were better able to take direct hits to the ship than the Antelope's passengers. Bashir had had little sleep in the last few days, hardly any at all, and having patched up the casualties he stood ready to collapse himself. Jabara guided him to an empty bed. "You need sleep. We can handle things from here." He'd wanted to check the other bay for problems before he went to sleep, but it seemed just too far away at the moment. "Wake me if anything comes up," he said, yawning. "Certainly, Doctor. Only if it can't wait." But he was already asleep. ***** Nurse Jabara covered him up and removed his boots, and watched both the doctor and his patients. Despite the exhaustion, he slept restlessly, almost falling off the narrow bed. He mumbled constantly, the words almost understandable, but the fear unmistakable. When he started sobbing she checked on him, worried, but he was still quite asleep. He was too tired to let the nightmares wake him up.She laid a sleep inducer on his forehead, forcing him to a deep, dreamless sleep, and watched as he ceased the restless movement. Quiet and relaxed, he would get more rest. He'd have plenty to do tomorrow. She watched the men worked quietly, and the shadows danced in the dim light. It was going to be a long trip. She only hoped that was the last emergency. ***** Hours later, when he woke, he pulled the sleep inducer from his forehead. It was so quiet. He'd been dreaming, a distant, pleasant dream, and stayed very still with his eyes closed. He let his dream fade slowly, finally remembering where he was. The Antelope must still be safe, he thought. At least the panic before the ship arrived was done. Now they would wait. He was still exhausted, but much less, and opened his eyes. The bay was so still. It was a murky dark except for lights attached to the beds. Beyond, where the furniture had been were mats and cots and beds. Most of the space was taken up by them. Sleeping forms filled almost all. He wondered how long Jabara'd let him sleep. The feeling that this wasn't real was fading, and he marveled at the energy the others had had. When boarding, nothing had been organized. He liked the feel of the room, so dark and quiet. He wasn't the only one needing sleep. Sitting up, he looked around, relieved his patients were also resting. There were no empty beds that should have been filled. The nurses would have awakened him, of course, but sometimes there wasn't time for that. It was peaceful here. After the rush and panic of the days before it was so welcome. Whatever the future brought, he'd always remember that moment. He hated to leave. But he was in command here, at least of the passengers, and had to fill his role. He stretched, stepping down from the low cot, so different from his own bed. Or what had been his. The station was gone now. It belonged to them. The fear was better here, not so overwhelming, but it would never really leave him. He reached for his boots, but they'd been moved. Standing, he folded the blanket and put it back on the cot. Someone else would need it later. There were so many more people here than space. But they'd already made it better. Walking softly so as not to wake anyone, he moved towards the nurse. She looked up, holding up a boot. He barely knew her, one of the Starfleet personnel that had arrived very recently. He came to get his boots, and whispered softly, unwilling to break the spell. "Someone had a good idea." "We were told the ship had reduced speed because of the damage and it was going to be at least another day, maybe two. You're not the only one who needed sleep, so we made a quiet area." She spoke in hushed tones. He looked over her list of patients, trying to see if any were worse. He didn't want to make noise and disturb anyone. "Any problems?" he finally asked. "No. Mostly they're catching up on sleep." He nodded, sticking the boots under his arm. "I'll be looking around if you need me. Good work." She nodded. "Food's in the big bay," she whispered. He realized he was hungry. There had been too much to do before to worry about eating. "What is there to eat?" he asked, hoping for real food. Barrett had replicators on this tub. "Rations. Replicators are down from the damage," she whispered. Somehow, it didn't surprise him. It was as if it had always been that way. The unreality of the day was fading. This half-lit world was beginning to be more real than the one they'd left. He sighed. "I got the impression if they weren't he wouldn't offer, especially after the transport." "There are some bad rumors, Sir." "Yes?" "They say there's a lot of damage. Nobody's sure what that means, except the crew looked very unhappy." "I wouldn't be surprised if they always did, but I'll ask." "Thank you, Sir. Nobody will tell us anything." ***** Stepping carefully past the patients, carrying his shoes, he was relieved that he wasn't needed right then. He had to find out what had happened. He needed to see how well the others were doing, and what they'd done with the rest of the space. Stepping outside, he slipped on his shoes and headed for the other bay. The murmur was noticeable outside in the hallway. Stepping into it, he was surprised the volume wasn't as loud as he expected. It was full of people trying to fill the time. After the rush, now there was time to think. Some sat eating their rations, nibbling them slowly. Some were reading, lost in other worlds. A few just sat, staring at the walls and crates that surrounded them. Looking around the room, he noticed Garak sitting in a corner by himself. Taking out his own rations, he picked up a cup of water from a dispenser and sat next to the Cardassian. Chairs had been lined up along the wall, and Garak had picked a corner to sit, back to the wall. "Greetings, Doctor. I must say you look much more refreshed." "I feel better." He opened one of the ration packets. Idly, he began chewing off hunks of it. They were very nutritious, but he couldn't think of anything else to recommend them. "I'm sorry to say I've already dined," said Garak Bashir was hungry and continued to eat. When he was done he added, "I wouldn't call this dining exactly." "I suppose you've been told about the rumor." "Yes." "Perhaps the captain will see fit to inform you about the ship's condition." "I've already been asked to see him," mumbled Bashir, watching the people. "You know, it is amazing. This entire re-organization was done very cooperatively and quickly. You may be not as important as you think." "Most of these people have had much worse to put up with. I hope the mood stays this cooperative, though." "When you're done with your discussion with the captain I believe you'll have a lot of listeners." Bashir's badge chirped. It was the captain. ***** Captain Barrett was in a no-nonsense mood. "Doctor, I have some bad news. That hit we took didn't seem too severe, but this is an old tub, and it wouldn't take much. Our engines were somewhat damaged. It's going to be a lot longer trip that was planned." Bashir wasn't surprised. "How long a trip, then?" he ask carefully. "I can't guarantee a figure, but if nothing else goes wrong, probably another week. I think you'll have enough food. Comfort is another thing. But I can't help you there." In his head he tried to remember how many extra crates of food had been brought. Not enough, probably. That was for after they arrived at the drop-off point. "It's a bit more than lack of comfort," he said carefully. "People are doing all right now, but they are going to be rather frustrated in a week." "I know, Doctor. I have eyes. And a *nose* as well. I don't like it either, but I can't do anything about it." "We have some of the engineering personnel on board. Perhaps they could help." "If we had the parts, I'd be glad to let them. But I'm afraid we're stripped bare. All we have is you." "Is there *anything* we can do to help?" he asked, hopefully. "Not really. I'd suggest that you start some kind of rationing. They won't like it, but I really can't guarantee it will take *only* a week. I'll still get you there." Bashir couldn't think of anything else to say. They wouldn't be happy, but under the circumstances people would cooperate. "I guess we all do our best, then, Captain." It was going to be a very long week. ***** The mood did not last. The announcement that they had another week on the Antelope did nothing to make it better. Federation rations were dull and tasteless, but having to extend them was worse. Nobody would go hungry; the rations were designed to be extendable without effecting health. But it didn't make anybody any happier. And then there were the rumors, which persisted at a never-slowing pace. One system after another had gone off-line on the Antelope. The crew transporters were the latest to fail. That would mean no one could beam off the ship. That could be a critical problem. The refusal of the DS9's engineers' help was another bad blow. There was a deep suspicion among the passengers that there was much more damage than anyone was willing to say. ***** The first few days had gone well, considering they hadn't really had room for amusements in their bags. People read, or played games, or talked quietly with friends. They were trying hard to look agreeable. But boredom set in--that and the effect of the short rations. They weren't hungry, but weren't full either. It was making everybody a little more hair-trigger with the tempers. With time to sleep, everyone became rested. Then they had too much energy, but nowhere to use it. And then they couldn't sleep. Bashir had pulled the remaining Security people together to keep an eye out for fights. They had broken up more than a few, though luckily there had been no real injuries. But security couldn't always be there, and just in case Medical had a trauma team ready at all times. ***** Bashir was tired. He'd slept, on and off, but he didn't really rest. The rumors of more failures continued to grow, and Barrett continued to refuse help. Boredom was hitting them now, and even little things about your neighbor became annoying. Attempts at organizing some distraction had not really worked. Nobody was in the mood for them. All they wanted was to get to the planet where the others had gone and get off the ship. It was hard to sleep. Every time he managed, there was another problem he had to deal with. He was ready to reach this Ag colony and let Sisko worry about decisions, too. But there were few patients and things had been relatively calm. One of the beds was empty and he needed a nap. He could even sleep now. After the palpable threat on the station, the relative sense of safety was a relief. The nightmares had finally faded enough to let him sleep. The nurse, however, was waking him again after a few hours. "Doctor, wake up. There is an emergency." He responded to the tone. Shaking off sleep, he grabbed his field kit and followed her. They hurried to the main bay. There were three men. All were drunk. One had a large knife sticking out of his side. "Get some Security over here," he ordered, pointing at the other two. Running a tricorder over the knife, he added "Get a stretcher ready too. He's bleeding internally." Using a wad to apply pressure against the wound, he slid out the knife. Security people carefully took the weapon and bagged it. He started working on the patient with a couple of nurses to control the bleeding. The knife had nicked a few internal organs, which needed repairing, but it wasn't a fatal wound. A crowd had gathered to watch, enjoying the show since there wasn't much else to do. Bashir was feeling crowded. He looked up, getting Security's attention. "Get these people out of the way." Security began breaking up the disappointed crowd. Everyone fervently hoped that they got to where ever they were going soon. ***** A few hours later, the patient asleep and recovering, he dealt with the other drunks. "How did the fight start?" he asked. The booze was wearing off, and they were feeling wary. "Rations," one of them said. It figured. They were all a little edgy over that. "Where did the alcohol come from?" The two eyed each other. They pointed vaguely towards the hospital area. "He had it." Bashir was tired and wanted to try getting some sleep again. He wasn't in the mood for this. "That really doesn't matter. What matters is you were drunk." They were just sober enough to be reasoned with, he thought. "How did it happen?" he asked them, impatiently. "It was an accident," said the younger of the two. "He was gonna take my rations. He rushed me. I was trying to get the knife out of his way, but . . . . " Tired and irritable, he asked, exasperated, "And who owns the knife?" The older one said, readily. "Oh, that's mine. Hunting knife . . . . " "Too bad we can't go hunt some Jem'Hadar with it," piped in the younger one. An unpleasant memory flashed in Bashir's head. He remembered the sound the knife had made in the Jem'Hadar as he stabbed it in his neck. His impatience vanished. He became very quiet. Everyone noticed. "All right, the patient will survive. Both of you will be detained," he said, looking at the Security people, implying that where was their problem, "by Security until we reach the drop off point." He didn't care how they managed this as long as he didn't get awakened again by them. He went back to bed but couldn't sleep. He watched Garak die again when he finally did. But everyone was very quiet for the last day before they arrived at their future. ***** The tension, approaching the destination, was almost as bad as just before the Antelope's second docking. The last news, such as it was, that they had heard was over two weeks old. During the long trip from the station, no communications had been possible because of jamming. It wasn't until they were less than a day away from the destination that they were able to get a message through to the small agricultural colony where they would land. Even then, the signal was weak; the jamming extended even that far. Everyone knew about the jamming. Nobody really wanted to consider what it meant. They just wanted to get there. ***** Bashir knew it wouldn't be good news when Captain Barrett asked him into his office again. In six hours they would arrive. He couldn't wait to turn over his first command to Sisko. Bad news was an understatement. He stared at the captain, utterly stunned. "What are our chances?" he finally asked. "We're going to beam all the cargo down first, and that will help. I can't safely beam you down with the cargo transporter, the safety filters just aren't good enough. We've tried to fix the personal transporters, but we just don't have the parts. So we are going to do our best." Bashir thought of the amount of injuries they had sustained just from one hit. If the captain's plan for a controlled descent without landing gear didn't work there were going to be a lot of deaths. Even if it succeeded there would be a lot of injuries. "I need to contact Captain Sisko. They need to be ready for us." "Certainly, Doctor. As soon as you're ready." "Just in case, our engineering people will want to see if there is anything you missed. I'm not doubting your people, but in this case if there is even a small chance . . . . " Bashir's voice was steady, only his eyes betraying the fear, he thought. "Just bring them in. I'm sure my people would welcome the help." Bashir wondered if his people could have helped a week ago. Now he'd never know. "How soon do you want to tell them?" asked the captain. "As soon as possible, I think. If not, the rumors will be worse. And just in case, they should have a chance to leave something behind." His tone was very somber. Barrett eyed him. "I wish I could make promises, Doctor. I prefer truth. "I appreciate that, Captain. Thank you." ***** He kept his voice as even as possible, hoping he didn't make things worse. "With the help of the crew," he said, "we will move to the safest possible location. Captain Barrett believes that a controlled descent is possible, and should the location be ideal, injuries should be minimal." The audience was silent, stunned as he had been an hour ago. As the last act of his command, he had to tell them about the crash. It did not bode well for the future. ***** The Bajorans were holding some sort of ceremony. It was somber and quiet, and a handful of the Starfleet personal had moved closer to watch, all of whom had been stationed on DS9 for all five years. They were listening closely, sitting just a little back from the others. Something was being passed around, and when it came to the end of the assembly, one of the Bajorans carried it back a row to the human onlookers. Slowly realizing they were invited to join in, they moved their chairs closer. Sitting near the end of the bay, watching the ceremony, Bashir noticed Garak approach. "I will miss our lunches, Doctor. I assume that whatever happens it will be difficult. I suspect you will be rather busy." "I'd rather not think about that right now, if you don't mind," said Bashir quietly. "I assume our chances are somewhat less rosy than your speech implies." "According to what I'm told, it really does depend on all those conditions," he sighed. "And this is the Captain telling you these things, I take it," said Garak. "Captain Barrett and his chief engineer. I suspect the real truth is they really don't know." "I assume they still maintain that they only recently discovered the fused control as well." "Of course. At this point I'm not sure. There has been a lot of . . .half-answers from the start." "Just as the answers you gave about the beam-out to Bajor," reminded Garak. "Perhaps. It is true that I really didn't know what they'd do. And I suppose it wouldn't have helped the situation if we'd had this to think about." He stretched, tiredly. "Twenty more people here wouldn't have been that bad." Garak looked at him and sighed. "You don't know that was the reason. Perhaps it was the close pass towards Bajor. And it's done. It can't be changed now." Bashir watched as the cup was passed around the group. "Like the fused control." He paused, watching Garak. "I think I'm looking forward to not being in charge of anyone but my patients. I'd like to just be a doctor again." The two men sat and watched as the ceremony drew more of the onlookers, Garak finally speaking. "If this does not go well, I hope you'll remember our lunches. It was a most pleasant way to spend a meal." Bashir just stared at the room. He remembered the first time he'd met Garak, and the way he'd hurried to tell Sisko about the Cardassian. But Garak was a friend now, and that time seemed like a lifetime ago. "Yes. Perhaps it can be again." But he knew, deep inside, that that world was as dead as the station. ***** All the cargo was on the surface. All the passengers and crew had been moved to the most shielded parts of the ship. It was time. Hunched down with his medkit in hand, Bashir held his breath in anticipation of the alarm that would signal the deceleration and attempted landing. Or controlled crash. He had his staff scattered among the others, ready with medkits, just in case. Garak whispered, "I recommend deep breaths, Doctor." He blew out his breath slowly, feeling his pulse slow a little. The alarm sounded and they all covered their heads. The first sensation was of falling, as the ship dropped faster than normal into the atmosphere, giving it speed to attempt to glide. For those hunched over on the deck, the desire was strong to find something to hold tight to. The ship began a sudden drop, and for a moment they were weightless. Those who could, grabbed on to whatever they could reach. As the ship evened its descent, gravity reasserted itself and they dropped. Bashir was one of the lucky ones who lay flat on the deck trying to breath from the impact. Others were unconscious, or injured, but nobody could help them then. For a time the ride was smooth. Then something went wrong. Bashir could feel the ship tilting down, going too fast, and put his arms over his head. Then, suddenly, the ship righted itself and everyone around him started to breath again. But it was falling very fast. Everything inside was shaking, the vibrations loosening clamped wall plates and other unsecured things. Nothing fell around them, but they could hear things crash in other places. There would be more injuries. Bashir put his head down on his hands, arms folded over his head and knees tucked under. He'd have a lot to do when they hit. The ship was already starting to fall apart. Then, suddenly, the ship tilted again, worse this time. People slid down the deck in front of him, blocking his own slide. They grabbed onto each other and a few protruding edges to keep from falling. The speed was worse. The ship was plummeting straight down when it smashed into the ground. The shock rippled through the ship. Metal seems started to buckle, and the warm outside air rushed inside. Ducts, their sides ruptured, spilled over people and walls. The heavy odor of chemicals pervaded the ship. Anyone awake who could stand started to scramble to safety. But some still lay unconscious, not even knowing they were breathing poison. Some were trapped, desperately trying to dig themselves out before it was too late. The ship was still breaking up, supports snapping and walls bending into odd curves. They knew it would crash, but expected it to land on its belly. Those trapped inside were placed in the safest places for that kind of crash, not one head-on into a heap of sand. The chemicals were so strong it was hard to breath. Here and there, where people were trapped, the screams echoed through the broken wreck. Everyone in Bashir's group had gotten free except two in the back, and Bashir and Garak tried to check on them. They were already dead. Above them, several beams were swaying, ready to fall. Garak pulled the doctor away, Bashir trying to scramble out. But not fast enough. One beam fell, and its jagged edge, covered in some sticky fluid, was pinning his leg on the ground, cutting deeply into the flesh. He didn't scream. He could feel the burning sensation of the fluid on the exposed tissue, and was rapidly going into shock. Garak let go of him and began to lift the beam. One of the Bajorans began to drag the now unconscious doctor away from the obstacle in a trail of blood. The ceiling collapsed after the beams had fallen, trapping Garak under a heavy pile of metal scraps and dripping fluids. He was either unconscious or dead, making no sound, but there was no time to move the rubble and find out. Garak's exile had finally ended. end, Legacy Year 1, Part 1