Images in a Broken Mirror, Part 2

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A Revolution in Looking-Glass Land
/~i~/
It was unusual to see O'Brien up in Ops in civilian clothes. The only other time had been just before his last, ill-fated vacation, and so Bashir had a certain sense of foreboding at the sight of his friend in a plain brown tunic and trousers, even before O'Brien pulled out a disruptor and waved it at the astonished crew.
"Get up on the transporter, please," he said, picking out Sisko and Kira with the disruptor's muzzle, "and you too, Bashir. Quickly now. Let's go." As he herded them onto the platform, O'Brien stopped at the transporter console to wave a small, circular device over the control panel and set the coordinates.
"What is this?" Sisko demanded.
But Bashir already understood. "You're not our O'Brien, are you?"
"I'll explain everything once we cross over," the imposter told them. "Assuming we get there in one piece." He engaged the transporter and leapt up to join them. They beamed away--
and materialized on another transporter platform at the back of the bridge of a small ship.
"We made it." O'Brien looked relieved as he holstered the weapon. "And you can't get back until I send you."
They stepped down from the transporter onto the small, triangular upper section of the bridge, two steps above the main, half-circle-shaped cockpit. From the view out the forward window, it looked as if they were near the edge of Denorios Belt, a position corresponding to the coordinates of DS9. A couple of other humans were seated at the helm and weapons consoles; Kira recognized them as members of the mirror-Sisko's pirate crew.
"You're Smiley," she said.
"No one called me that except Ben Sisko--_my_ Ben Sisko." O'Brien glanced at the glowering commander.
"We're back in your universe," Bashir murmured, and felt a small shiver creep down his spine.
"You kidnaped us-" Sisko thundered.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but I had no other choice. We need your help. You see, my Ben Sisko is dead."
Kira thought of that sulky, self-interested man who had just begun to be something more, and she felt a genuine pang of sadness. "What happened to him?"
"Well, he'd got it into his head that he was some kind of holy man," O'Brien explained as he stepped down onto the main bridge. "He said that Bajor's Prophets had picked him out special to free the Terran slaves."
Sisko gave Kira a meaningful glance. She looked away.
"A lot of us who'd known him awhile didn't believe it for a second, but the other Terrans did. He gave `em something to rally `round. It's easier to fight for a cause when you believe some god or another is smiling down on you.
"The trouble was, Ben believed it too. He was sure he had his destiny all laid out by the Prophets, and nothing could touch 'im. He started taking foolish risks. The Terran rebels loved `im for it. They wanted a hero, you see. And it was fine for us as long as his luck held out, but that wasn't going to last forever. One stupid bloody mistake..." he shook his head, grimacing. "He got himself killed, just when we needed him most."
"Are you Captain here now?" asked Bashir.
"No, not of this ship. Rob Whelan there-" with a nod at the man at the helm, "Ben Sisko's first mate, is our pilot, but I've come up with the rebellion, you might say. Now that Sisko's gone, the others have been looking to me for what do to next. I'm doing the best I can."
He was different from the 'Smiley' O'Brien they had met last year. This man was much more grim and purposeful than that timid Theta mechanic. He wasn't like their Chief O'Brien either, but their O'Brien had never had the responsibility of leading a revolution.
"And what do you want with us?" asked Sisko.
"Well, my idea was to get some replacements--bring Ben Sisko back from the dead and have Intendant Kira come out of the monastery where Garak tells everyone she's gone on retreat. And I needed _you_," he said to Bashir, "Garak's boy."
Even in his mortification, Bashir noted that Sisko was not as shocked by this information as he ought to be. "Why me?" he asked.
"You made a big impression on Intendant Garak when you were here before," O'Brien explained. "After you'd gone, he hunted for your counterpart in the mines, and he found him. Jules Bashir is one of _ours_--I knew who Garak was looking for, and so I found Jules first and put him where he couldn't help but be discovered by Garak sooner or later. He's been our spy on Terek Nor for the last three months, but now it's time to get `m out of there." He looked around to all three of them. "I need your help for that."
"I haven't said we'll do anything to help you yet," Sisko reminded him. "Maybe we can't get back to our universe until you send us, but we can just sit here and refuse to cooperate."
"You won't," O'Brien responded. "This is too important, for your universe as well as mine. It's more than Bashir at stake. There's a scientist, a Terran. Her name is Jennifer Bateson, and the Alliance is holding her prisoner."
Sisko suddenly felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. Jennifer Bateson... "Have you got a picture of her?" he asked.
O'Brien moved to the nearest computer console and punched a few buttons to locate and bring up an Alliance 'Wanted for Treason' bulletin. He tapped the screen with his fingers. "That's her."
As Sisko stared at the image, reality seemed to freeze around him. His heart stopped beating. He heard his own voice speaking as if he were somewhere far away: "That's my Jennifer. My wife."
/~*~/
"Not here she isn't," O'Brien replied. "I never got the whole story, but from the little bits Ben and Jennifer told me, I gather they had something going on between 'em years ago. Jennifer Bateson was one of the privileged Terrans. The vedeks brought her up, educated her. I've no idea how Ben managed to meet someone like her--I mean, what does a woman like that want to do with a man fresh out of the mining camps? Anyway, she was a teacher at the Technical University until Ben got in touch with her again and talked her over to our cause. That put her right at the top of the Wanted Criminals list. You can see why."
Kira nodded. "A revolutionary with an education and technical skills is dangerous to the status quo. She can accomplish a lot."
"More'n an ignorant bunch of escaped slaves," O'Brien agreed. "The Alliance wanted her back bad."
"And they've captured her?" Sisko asked.
"Two days ago. According to Bashir, they're holding her on Terek Nor. When he heard that, Ben went charging off all by himself to rescue her..." O'Brien shook his head again. "They won't kill her--she's got too much information that they want."
"Such as?"
"For one thing, Jennifer Bateson was the one who modified the Klingon cloaking devices we got hold of--the one on this ship and the shields fixed up for our bases in the Sea of Wraiths. We've got a lot of people liberated from the mining camps and factories in hiding. Plus, we're putting together an army out there, training soldiers, collecting weapons and ships. Jen knows where a lot of that is. Give `em enough time to interrogate her, and she'll talk. She won't be able to help it.
"And if that's not enough for you, there's the trans-porter. She helped me to configure this one here on the ship. It was our Sisko's idea that we could send a few refugees over, get them away to a safer place. Now, I know as much about transporters as any Terran, but _she_ knew what it was we were doing. All that Bajoran meta-physical theory about space 'n' time."
He turned to Kira and Bashir. "The last time you two were here, you changed things. If it wasn't for you, I'd still be a Theta on Terek Nor, and Ben Sisko'd still be at Intendant Kira's beck-n-call. _You_ started this, and Garak knows it. The Terran revolution's been the vole gnawing at his ankles since the day he took over. How long d'you think he'd wait to meddle in _your_ universe if he had the chance?"
Sisko's whole demeanor changed as he listened to O'Brien outline the situation. The news about Jennifer Bateson had shaken him from his initial outrage at being kidnaped, and he grew more and more solemn at each new piece of information. "So, what's the plan?"
"I'd like your Kira to come with me to Terek Nor," O'Brien answered, "impersonate the old Intendant. She can open up a few doors for us, maybe all the way to Jen's cell."
"I've done it before," Kira volunteered immediately. "I know my way around that station."
Sisko did not override her. "And what about Bashir?" he asked O'Brien.
"I want my Bashir out of there, to take him with us when we go. Once the Alliance knows we know where Jennifer is, they'll figure out who gave us the information. It won't take long for Garak to work it out. Now, we'll have a chance to get farther away from the station if Garak doesn't notice anything wrong right away. Say, if his Terran boy isn't missing."
"It sounds as if you're putting _my_ Bashir in serious danger. This Intendant Garak could kill him if he learns who he is."
"All he has to do is sit still for a little while, play up to Garak 'n' keep him from getting suspicious. Then he can slip off. They'll be some distractions to help him--that's where your part comes in, Commander Sisko."
"And if he's captured?"
"Then all he can tell `em is what I've told you just now. Between them, Jennifer and Jules can give away a whole lot more." O'Brien threw an apologetic glance at Bashir, who had been listening with a growing horror. "It's a matter of who's more important to the cause."
"But in this case, that's _my_ decision, not yours," the commander pointed out. "I don't happen to think Dr. Bashir is expendable."
O'Brien nodded and accepted this.
"Now, what about this 'distraction' you want me to provide?" asked Sisko.
"I think you and I should talk this part over alone." He sent another glance in Bashir's direction.
The doctor understood: O'Brien didn't want him to hear any more about the rebellion's plans. "I'll get out of your way," he said, and headed for the nearest hatch.
Kira scowled. "Was _that_ necessary?" she demanded after Bashir had left the bridge.
"The less he knows, the better," O'Brien replied. "It's safest for all of us if we keep our information parceled out--that way, no one can give away too much if they get caught and interrogated. Any good resistance fighter knows that."
Yes, Kira did know that. "Maybe I should get out of the way too," she murmured. Instead of following Bashir, she went to sit down in the forward section of the bridge behind the two members of O'Brien's crew.
O'Brien took Sisko by the arm and led him through an ovoid doorway opposite the transporter controls, into an ante-chamber at the top of the shaft that led to the engine room on the deck below.
He spoke softly: "I've told you how people looked up to my Ben Sisko. He was the center of this rebellion. The Alliance is already broadcasting the news about his death. It's a great piece of propaganda for them. When they hear about it back in the Sea of Wraiths, it'll demoralize a lot of our people."
The commander understood. "But if Benjamin Sisko shows up alive and well..."
"Exactly. What you're going to do is go back to our base in the Sea and show yourself to as many of our people as possible, put a lie to the stories about Ben's death. They'll believe what they see with their own eyes before the things they hear on the Alliance news reports. You'll make a speech to rile `em up, and lead the rebellion in its biggest strike so far."
"You want me to attack Terek Nor?"
O'Brien nodded. "We're going to try and take it."
/~*~/
When Bashir left the bridge, he wandered along the main corridor until he found a sort of crew lounge at the back of the ship--a few low-slung chairs, some games, a replicator. He sat down before the rear windows.
The retreating asteroids told him that they were headed away from the Denorios Belt and were on a course for Bajor. For Terek Nor. The place where his nightmares had begun.
He knew that Sisko had not committed himself to this mission yet; it was the commander's way to hear an entire proposal, measure his options, and then make a decision. And Sisko had sounded extremely reluctant to place him in danger, but Bashir could not forget that thunderstruck look on Sisko's face when he'd learned that the counter-part of his late wife was here. _That_ was a powerful incentive--how powerful, Bashir could not imagine, since he had never lost someone he loved that much.
At the pit of his stomach, he was already certain that Sisko would agree to go along with O'Brien's plan.
These past months, he and Garak had been tentatively trying to reform their friendship on new terms. They never spoke of what had happened that night in his quarters, and Garak was never as open with him again; but even though the tailor had assumed his old pose as a man-of-mystery, underneath all the usual diversionary word-games there was a new note of gentleness. He was making every effort not to seem threatening, and Bashir was slowly responding.
He didn't know where it would go, or even where he wanted it to go. At times, he thought of what it would be like, being closer to Garak, and he felt a yearning regret for what might have been if that other Garak had not come between them and destroyed it.
Now he was _here_ and about to face Intendant Garak again --something he never wanted to do, even in less dangerous circumstances.
"Doctor?"
Bashir looked up to find his commander standing in the doorway behind him.
"We're going to do this, aren't we, sir?" he asked. "Help O'Brien save your wife."
"She isn't my wife," Sisko answered. "But O'Brien's right--there are more important issues at stake here, and I've agreed to participate. Major Kira is being briefed on her mission right now.
"O'Brien thinks your part in this plan of his is crucial. I think you can buy him a little more time, but it's not worth risking your life over. We'll do what we can to rescue Jennifer Bateson and O'Brien's Bashir, but I won't put you and Major Kira in unnecessary danger for their sake." He hesitated, then said, "I can't order you to do what O'Brien wants, Julian. I wouldn't even if I could. I know how rough it will be for you to see this Intendant Garak again."
So he did know all about it. "Kira told you what happened the last time we were here, didn't she?" Bashir asked quietly.
Sisko shook his head. "Not Kira. I could see that some-thing was troubling you, but when I asked, she only said that she'd promised not to talk about it. No, Garak was the one who let me know."
This information took Julian completely by surprise. "Garak did?"
"We had a conversation--He hinted that you'd once told him about something that had happened to you the last time you were here. He told me that he was concerned for you, but didn't feel he was in a position to help you himself. I didn't really understand what he was trying to suggest, until today."
"Garak," Bashir mused. He would have liked to question Sisko further, but they were interrupted by the chirp-ing of their commbadges.
"Commander, it's Kira. Come back up to the bridge right away. Something's happening."
They returned to the front of the ship. Kira stood at the door to the antechamber, out of the way of the commotion as O'Brien and his crew were busy on the main bridge below.
"What's going on?" Sisko asked.
"We've received a coded distress signal from our haven on Bajor 8's lower moon--the abandoned mining camp," O'Brien explained. "We would've missed it if Sforzi hadn't run a routine check on the emergency frequency while we were passing by." He stooped to read the message on the communications screen, then muttered, "Bloody hell... We've got trouble." He turned to the second crewmember, who had moved up to the transporter console. "Cath, can you lock onto that signal and bring 'm up?"
"I've got him." The transporter engaged.
And the other Bashir materialized on the platform.
/~ii~/
Since his last visit to this mirror-universe, Julian had wondered if he had a counterpart here. He'd felt a strange anticipation when O'Brien had mentioned 'Jules Bashir,' and although more immediate concerns had occupied him, the question remained at the back of his mind: What would this other Bashir be like?
It was more than simple curiosity to see how this universe would have twisted his own basic personality; here, the genetically unaltered version of himself truly would be different. This was his chance to see how he might have turned out if _he_ had never been enhanced.
His first thought was that this other Bashir looked smaller than he was, slouched with shoulders hunched forward. He had a wary, hunted look as his eyes darted around the chamber--which changed to relief when he saw O'Brien, then to confusion at the people who were with him. The dark stubble on his face was almost a beard. His hair was long and slicked back in an approximation of the Cardassian style, and he was wearing a rumpled and dirty, close-fitting bodysuit of some clingy, dark blue material.
*What the fashionable catamite wears,* Julian thought, and found himself surprised that the outfit wasn't more revealing or sleazy, or made entirely of leather.
"Jules," said O'Brien, "what's happened?"
"I had to get away quickly. Garak knows there's a spy," Jules Bashir announced. As he moved to step off the transporter, his eyes went glassy. And then he fell.
Julian knelt to examine him. Pulling open the front of the bodysuit revealed a large purple bruise on the young man's chest surrounding patches of bloody, scraped and broken skin. "He's sustained some sort of injury. Have you got a sickbay on this ship of yours?"
/~*~/
They carried him into the captain's quarters--the largest private room on the ship--and, using the limited first-aid materials at hand, Bashir tended to his counterpart's injuries. After the others had exited, O'Brien lingered, brow furrowed anxiously while he watched the doctor work.
When the young man regained consciousness, he asked, "When did you leave Terek Nor?"
"Yesterday morning," Jules answered slowly, still some-what dazed. "I overheard a report to Intendant Garak, that Captain Sisko had been intercepted on his way to the station to rescue the professor. Garak wondered how he knew to find her there, and he said he was going to launch an investigation. I got out as soon as I could."
"Did Garak do this to you?"
Jules gave him a small smile. "It's hardly Garak's style. No, Miles, I did it myself. I slipped and fell climbing over the damn rocks in the cave last night. It hurts like hell. I think I broke something." He tried to explore the bandages wrapped tightly around his chest, but Julian took his wrist and moved his hand out of the way.
"A few of your ribs are cracked, but they don't seem to have punctured any vital organs," the doctor reported impersonally. "You also have a fractured sternum. I'll see if I can give you something for the pain." He picked up the medical kit on the floor near his feet and began to rummage through it, finding it difficult to look his patient in the face.
But Jules Bashir was studying him with interest. "You're me, aren't you? The other one Miles and the Intendant are always talking about. You're a doctor?"
"That's right."
It had been a strange experience to work on the unconscious body of his twin, bare now except for a scrap of undergarment. Julian had distanced himself by focusing on the injuries he needed to treat, and not on his patient's too-familiar torso. Now that this other Bashir was awake and talking, it was almost more than he could handle.
*He's _not_ me,* he told himself sternly. *He doesn't even have my name, or the same genetic material I do. We are not connected to each other in any way.*
"A doctor," said Jules. "I could never be anything like that. You must be smarter than I am."
"I've had more advantages," Julian answered. He found a packet of green-colored, gelatin-filled capsules in the medical kit.
"No, I'm just stupid," his counterpart replied. "Stupid, and pretty. Good for only one thing--that's what every-one says, isn't it, Miles?"
"Jules..." O'Brien warned him.
"Except for Miles. He thought I could be a spy. I could do my work straight from the Intendant's bed."
"Yes, I've heard," Julian murmured sympathetically. "It must've been terrible for you."
"Oh, I didn't mind." Jules was quick to clear up this misunderstanding. "I was _glad_ when Miles put me in the Intendant's way. You don't know the kind of voles' nest I was in before--I would've done anything to get out. With Intendant Garak, I got some nice, new clothes, good food, and a comfortable bed every night." He grinned at Julian's shocked and repulsed expression. "Maybe it's different where you come from. It doesn't matter much if you're pretty. In _my_ world, it means you're a piece of tail to any guard or overseer who's looking for a little fun. You have to find someone to look out for you before you get fucked to death. Intendant Garak's better than most. He doesn't go out of his way to hurt me, unless he's drinking and he thinks I'm _you_." He threw O'Brien a look of sullen resentment. "I'm sorry I had to leave."
"It was over for you anyway," O'Brien retorted. "It wasn't going to take Garak long to figure out who told us about Jen Bateson."
"Why d'you think I ran? But if I'd kept my mouth shut, I could've slept in the Intendant's bed last night, instead of hiding out in cargo holds and wet caves, freezing my arse off and getting my bones broke," Jules said grumpily. "But it's all for the good of our people, isn't it?"
"And don't you forget it," O'Brien replied.
/~*~/
"Is he going to be all right?" O'Brien asked as he followed Julian out into the narrow corridor, where Kira and Sisko were waiting.
"He'll be fine," the doctor assured him, reporting to his commander at the same time. "If I had access to proper medical equipment--a dermal regenerator, and a bone-knitter--he'd be up and about right now. I've done what I can without them, but he needs time to heal. He should stay in bed for the next few days and move around as little as possible." In spite of the way they had spoken to each other, Julian noted that O'Brien seemed to be genuinely concerned for the other Bashir. "You really care about him, don't you?"
O'Brien shrugged. "He's not the selfish little slut he makes himself out to be. A boy like that'd have to harden up early in life just to survive. He didn't have to go to Garak, you know. When I got him out of that brothel at Kav'Edelur, he could've gone to hide in the Sea of Wraiths with the rest of the refugees. But I explained to him how important it was that we have someone to be our eyes and ears on Terek Nor, and that no one else would do. And if all he wanted was nice clothes and a comfy bed, and wasn't too particular about who he was fucking, he could've cosied in once Garak picked `im up, and never put himself in danger by sending me reports."
Bashir was suddenly, unreasonably embarrassed that Sisko and Kira were listening to this. It shouldn't matter--_their_ counterparts had been a pirate turned revolutionary and a power-mad tyrant; why should he be ashamed that _his_ was a prostitute?--and yet it did.
*He is not me,* Julian told himself again. *He's nothing like me.*
He understood Garak's vehement denial that he and Intendant Garak were alike. Kira did the same when speaking of her own counterpart. It was hard to see someone so much like your-self, but who had done things you never wanted to believe you were capable of doing.
"Jules isn't all that bright," O'Brien concluded, "but he knows what really matters. He wants his freedom as much as the rest of us, and he's done some of the rebellion's best work for it."
"But if he's here, you're not going to need Dr. Bashir's help after all," said Sisko.
"If you don't mind, Commander, I'd like him to come along anyway. You couldn't go back to the Sea with two Bashirs, and it'd be handy to have him with us, just in case."
Sisko nodded and looked to Bashir. "It's up to you, Doctor."
Under these new conditions, it was possible that he would not even see Intendant Garak. "Yes, all right," Julian consented. "I'll go."
"Good man!" O'Brien grinned at him. "Now, could you get into that outfit Jules was wearing when he came aboard? And comb your hair back the way his is. You won't fool anyone for long, but it'll do."
/~*~/
When Julian went back into the 'sickbay' to retrieve the bodysuit, his patient lay quietly, flat on his back, arms protectively across his chest beneath the blankets. His eyes were shut and he was breathing lightly; Julian thought that he must be asleep, but as he stooped to gather up the crumpled garment from the floor, Jules opened his eyes.
"What do you want that for?" he asked.
"I'm going to Terek Nor. O'Brien thinks I need a disguise."
Jules smiled. "So you're going to be me for awhile, Doctor?"
Julian didn't answer. He refused to be drawn in by his counterpart's taunting.
"If you see Garak," the other Bashir continued, "just remember that he likes it when you nibble on those scales under his ears."
/~*~/
He emerged onto the bridge 20 minutes later, self-conscious in the tight suit. O'Brien was already there, wearing an unassuming servant's tunic. Kira arrived soon after; she had squeezed into a green-tinted leather outfit, similar to the one Intendant Kira had worn, but with a long, sleeveless vest of metallic mesh over it.
"You look like a Klingon," Bashir tried to joke, and received a sharp glare from the major.
"It's the uniform of a Bajoran Subvisor," O'Brien informed them. "Fits okay?"
"I guess so." Kira ran her hands down her hips, stopping at the broad belt with a jeweled dagger hung at one side and a small disruptor at the other. "And what are you supposed to be?"
"Your humble servant, Ma'am." With a little bow.
"And the three of us are going to beam over to Terek Nor-"
"No," O'Brien corrected her. "It'd look too suspicious if we uncloaked and came near the station in this ship. And what if Garak's in the Operations Center? No, we're going to arrive like an official envoy from Bajor--for that, we need an official Bajoran transport."
"Where are we going to get one?" asked Bashir.
"From the shipyard at Dahkur City. We can steal one. It'll be the easiest thing we do today." He turned to Sisko. "A word with you, Commander, before we go?"
Sisko nodded, and O'Brien stepped down to join him on the main bridge.
O'Brien lowered his voice. "I've had a talk with Whelan and Sforzi. I've told 'em that you're to be captain on this mission, and they're to treat you just as they would our own Ben Sisko. They'll be with you the whole time, to help out if you need it. They know what's to be done once you're back at the base. If all goes well, we'll meet up with you and the rest of the Terran fleet after we've got Jennifer and we can join you in time for the assault on the station."
"You've got a lot of confidence that this mission will be successful. And a lot of trust in me," Sisko observed. "If I've got your ship and crew, what's to stop me from using your transporter and beaming myself home?"
"You won't," O'Brien smiled and glanced up at Bashir and Kira, who stood waiting near the transporter platform. "If I know my Ben Siskos, you wouldn't leave your people behind. And don't you worry--I'll do everything I can to see that you get them back."
/~iii~/
The small sublight spacecraft was obtained from the Dahkur shipyard without incident. A Subvisor had only to appear and announce that she wanted a ship for herself and her attendants, and no questions were asked.
They set a course for Terek Nor, on the far side of the planet at this point in its orbit. While O'Brien piloted the craft, swinging them from the nightside of Bajor into daylight, Kira continued to pace behind his chair, too restless to settle down during this short journey.
She was well aware of why Commander Sisko thought she had volunteered so quickly for this mission. She could even imagine him thinking, *That's Major Kira--Give her an underdog to fight for, and she won't hesitate to jump into the middle of a battle.*
And, to be honest, that was part of the reason. These Terrans were an enslaved people, just as her own people had been enslaved during the Occupation. It didn't matter to her that their oppressors were Bajorans as well as Cardassians and Klingons; they were fighting for their freedom, and _that_ was a cause she would always respect. She would aid it whenever she could.
But there was more to it than that. She had more personal reasons for joining this fight.
She hadn't known this universe's Benjamin Sisko long enough to think of him as a friend, but for awhile they had worked together as allies. At a time when she had desperately needed help, he'd come to her assistance. It honored his memory to carry on the rebellion he had died for--and since _she_ had set him on that path in the first place, she considered herself partly responsible for his death. In more than one respect, she was in his debt; striking back against the Alliance was the best way she knew to repay him, and perhaps to soothe her own conscience.
And then there was Intendant Garak. She had a debt to repay him as well. She never talked about how she'd been forced to participate in the murder of her own counter-part, and she was better at concealing her inner turmoil than Dr. Bashir, but the death of that other Kira Nerys still haunted her. Too many nights this past year, she'd lain awake remembering: The look of reproach in the Intendant's eyes. The puddle of blood spreading on the carpet beneath her body. That frozen moment before Garak had given her the Intendant's headband and sent her back to the party. If she could settle the score with _him_, perhaps she would finally be able to let those memories fade.
"Approaching Terek Nor," O'Brien announced.
The curve of the planet was still bright blue beneath them, and the station hung against the starfield ahead, a spider-shape growing larger with every second. Kira stopped pacing and went over to the communications panel.
When the station hailed them, she said, "This is transport 0674, special envoy from the Bajoran Supervisory Conclave, requesting to dock."
There was a long silence, during which Bashir watched her anxiously and O'Brien's fingers hovered over the weapons' control panel.
Then: "Transport 0674, permission is granted. Proceed to Port 17 on the docking ring."
"You know what you've got to do once you're aboard?" O'Brien asked Kira after she had ended the communication.
She nodded. "I'm ready. Take us in."
/~*~/
After O'Brien, Kira, and Bashir had beamed down to Bajor, Sisko passed the time on his way to the Sea of Wraiths by preparing for the role he was about to assume. He'd ventured into the captain's quarters--careful not to disturb the sleeping patient--and grabbed some clothes to change into. He put himself literally in his counter-part's place by taking the captain's seat on the bridge.
He contemplated the fact that his counterpart had still been alive only yesterday; Sisko thought it would've been a disconcerting, but interesting, experience to meet that other self in person. What had he been like--that ex-slave, ex-pirate, amoral adventurer turned rebel leader? Unlike him, the other Sisko had embraced his role as the Prophets' instrument, but Commander Sisko had to wonder if his counterpart had actually encountered the Prophets and been guided by them, or if his cause was fueled only by a delusion and Kira's description of himself.
But the cause itself was good. In spite of his doubts about his counterpart's sanity and his qualms about interfering with this universe's balance of power, Sisko admitted that this rebellion stirred something within him. The threat to his own universe was still academic, and he knew that O'Brien's Jennifer Bateson wasn't _his_ Jennifer, but there were humans living here right now in slavery--_that_ was intolerable. And so he was going to take up the late Benjamin Sisko's battle. To set his people free...
Almost before he was aware of it, Sisko found himself humming an ancient spiritual from his own world's history.
"What's that?" Whelan asked him.
"It's an old song that my father taught me--'Go Down Moses.' Humans were once slaves in my universe too. Some humans."
"You should teach it to us. Ben Sisko would've liked a good song to inspire the troops." Whelan gave him a grin. "I can't get over how much you look like _our_ Captain Sisko. Seeing you sit there, I'd swear you were him."
"That's the idea." He considered the pilot. "You were with Captain Sisko for a long time."
"That's right. Me 'n' Cath--Sforzi here--and some of the others have been part of Ben Sisko's crew for years, back before the Prophets touched him."
"What was he like?"
"Back then? A different man. But we were all different in the old days. We never thought of anything except for ourselves. We'd gotten out of the pit. Captain Sisko was in Intendant Kira's special favor--she gave him this ship and her permission to attack spacecraft from non-Alliance worlds as long as we gave her her share of the take. She kept us on a longer chain than the rest of the slaves, but we didn't care. We thought we had as much freedom as any Terrans could expect.
"And then our Ben Sisko met _your_ Kira. She told him about you and how the Prophets spoke to you. After that, he...changed. He saw that he could be more. Like Mr. O'Brien told you--he believed he had a destiny. He told us that _we_ ought to have more, and he was going to give it to us. He would set all the Terrans free, every one of us, everywhere. He said that we'd rise up together and throw off the Alliance, and then we'd make our way back to the motherworld."
"Earth," said Sisko.
"None of us have ever seen Earth," Sforzi said wistfully. "When the Empire fell in our grandparents' time, Terrans were left scattered all over the galaxy with no way to get home."
Whelan added, "Captain Sisko said that maybe we couldn't reclaim our old Empire right away, but we could take back what'd been ours in the first place. From there, we'd start to rebuild ourselves as a power in the galaxy again." At Sisko's look of amazement, he smiled. "You won't have to go so far with us, Commander. When O'Brien said he would get you to take over for Ben Sisko, he didn't mean it for the rest of your life."
"I hope not."
"Just make 'em believe it for now. The truth about Captain Sisko can come out later."
"You'll do all right," a familiar voice said. Sisko looked up over his shoulder to find the other Bashir--Jules, O'Brien had called him--standing on the upper level of the bridge. The young man was swathed in a large, loose, dirty-white robe which Sisko supposed had belonged to his own counterpart.
"Shouldn't you be lying down?" he asked.
"I'm feeling much better," Jules answered with a smile. "Your doctor gave me some pain-killers before he left, and told me to keep still." He chuckled. "I'm good at that. My speciality. But I had to get up to piss anyway, and I thought I'd come out for awhile. See you."
Mildly drugged by whatever medication Dr. Bashir had given him, he was in an elfish mood and, Sisko thought, a little flirtatious. As uncomfortable as it made him, he considered that, given this Bashir's background, it was perhaps his usual way of behaving around men.
Jules descended cautiously down the two steps to the main bridge and eased himself into the nearest chair, his bandaged ribs forcing him to sit up straight. He studied the commander's face. "He's right--you look just like Captain Sisko. If you're supposed to take his place, all you have to do is shout a lot and talk about the glorious visions the Prophets give you. You'll fool everybody."
There was a scornfulness in this remark that made the two crewmembers scowl in disapproval, but Sisko was interested in hearing a less glowing report on the man he was meant to replace.
"I take it you didn't get along with Captain Sisko?"
Jules demurred slightly. "I didn't really know him. I was only here for a few days the last time, between when Miles brought me from Kav'Edelur and when he put me back in the mines for Garak to find. But I saw a lot. Ben Sisko was all flash and big, fancy ideas, and Miles was the one who worked hard to get all of Sisko's big plans done."
This was too much for Whelan. "Captain Sisko was a true visionary!" he protested.
"Flashy," Jules said again. "Or do you really believe all that crap about the Prophets telling him what to do?"
"It doesn't matter," the pilot retorted. "Captain Sisko believed. His visions gave us something to work for. Whatever he said, we believed we could do it. We _wanted_ to do it. He inspired us all."
When faced with the hard-headed, practical revolutionary twin of Chief O'Brien, Sisko had been confused trying to distinguish between a man he knew well and trusted implicitly and a stranger who had his own agenda. Now, he felt the same confusion between the familiar and the strange with this cynical prostitute who looked so much like his naive and earnest doctor.
He couldn't blame the boy for being what he was, any more than he could blame his own counterpart for his mutually exploitative relationship with Intendant Kira. They had to be sexual opportunists; after enduring lives of constant abuse and degradation, it was only natural that they would use any advantage they had to escape what Whelan had so evocatively termed 'the pit.'
"I can understand why your loyalties lie with Mr. O'Brien," said Sisko. "He's the one who found you."
Jules nodded. "He wanted something from me." A nasty, knowing laugh came from Sforzi; Jules's face reddened. "It wasn't like that," he insisted to Sisko. "Miles believed I could help the rebellion in a way no other Terran could. No one ever expected me to _do_ things before. I suppose it's because he knew your doctor and thought that I was just like him."
'Your' doctor. It wasn't the first time Jules had referred to his counterpart in this detached way; Sisko realized that _this_ Bashir also had difficulties in dealing with the existence of his twin. For a man of whom nothing had ever been expected, and who had lived up to those expectations, Julian Bashir must be a painful reflection to face.
"Miles told me about that other place, where you come from," Jules continued. "He says that it's better over there, that Terrans are in charge of Terek Nor. You have an empire as big as the Alliance, and you can be whatever you want to."
"Yes, that's true."
"Captain Sisko thought that we could make over _our_ world to be like that," Whelan interjected.
Jules ignored this. "It was why I agreed to join the rebels--I thought of what _I_ could be if my life were different."
"And what would you like to be?" asked Sisko.
"I have no idea." That elfish smile appeared again. "I don't see how I could be like your doctor. I'm just not that smart."
O'Brien had said something similar, but Sisko didn't see how one Bashir could be more intelligent than the other, barring a head injury or some other brain-damaging environmental factor. "I think you have the same potential," he replied encouragingly. "You just haven't had the chance to realize it yet--none of you have. If this scheme of O'Brien's works out, you may finally have that chance."
"If O'Brien knows anything," Whelan said, unwilling to give up the argument, "it's the importance of Captain Sisko's visions. The rebellion would die without them. After all, the minute we lost our Ben Sisko, he used that universe-crossing transporter to bring _you_ here."
/~*~/
O'Brien was pensive as he brought the small Bajoran craft nearer to the space station.
After they had docked, he told Kira, "We won't go with you to the Security Office. I might still be recognized, and Bashir certainly will. When you've found Jennifer, you can use those comm devices the two of you are wearing. Contact Bashir, and we'll transport you and Jen back to the ship and get the hell out of here. With any luck, we'll be in the Sea of Wraiths before they realize what's happened."
"We can use all the luck we can get," said Kira and, taking a deep breath, she opened the hatch and went out.
"And what will we do until Major Kira comes back?" Bashir asked once she had gone. "Sit here and wait?"
"No," O'Brien shook his head. "I've been thinking... she's going to need more'n good luck getting in and out of there without drawing Garak's attention. We need to create a distraction to help her." He was on his feet. "Come on."
"Where are we going?"
"To the Intendant's quarters. We'll use you as bait to draw `im in."
"Bait," Julian echoed with a pang of uneasiness.
And O'Brien saw it. "It's all right," he said. "I'll be with you the whole time. He won't lay a hand on you."
/~*~/
The airlock doors rolled open, and Kira stepped out to find two Klingon guards waiting to receive her. They immediately snapped to attention.
"Intendant Kira," one of them spoke. "We had no advance notice- We didn't know you that you were coming back to Terek Nor."
"Only for a visit," she purred in an imitation of the late Intendant. "And it's Subvisor Kira now. I stand at the shoulder of Visor Jaro himself." O'Brien had given her this cover story during her briefing. "I'm here to escort the Terran traitor Bateson back to Bajor personally for further interrogation. Visor Jaro trusts no one else to see to this delicate matter."
The Klingons bowed. "We will take you to her, Subvisor," one said. The other added, "Shall we inform Intendant Garak of your arrival?"
"Your Intendant has been notified of my mission," she snapped impatiently, just as her twin would have done. "If Garak has any objections to the Bajoran Conclave's disposition of the Terran prisoner, I will speak to him myself...later."
"Yes, Subvisor." There were no further questions. Kira was escorted to the station's Security. Swaggering down the corridors of Terek Nor, flanked by the guards, she felt just as she had the last time she'd impersonated her twin: it was as if the spirit of that other Kira Nerys had descended upon her and was somehow directing her words and movements.
The most vulnerable moment occurred when they crossed the Promenade from the lift to Security's door--Kira was sure she would be seen and recognized by someone who knew that Intendant Kira was dead--and then they were inside. The Klingons were bluntly dismissed. A word of explanation to the Bajoran officer on duty, and she was taken into the detention block.
Unlike the Security office on DS9, the cells here were equipped with opaque force-shields. The contents of each cell were only vaguely discernable; one appeared to be empty, and the other two held prisoners.
The Bajoran officer went to the nearest one and punched in a five-digit code on the control panel. The forcefield was lowered to reveal a human woman curled in the corner. She regarded them with plain terror and bewilderment on her bruised face.
"Prisoner Bateson, Subvisor," the officer announced.
"Wait outside," Kira ordered and once he had gone, stepped over the threshold and into Jennifer's cell.
Jennifer cringed as she approached.
Kira crouched down before her. "It's all right," she hissed under her breath, in case they were being monitored. "O'Brien's sent me. I'm here to get you out."
The prisoner relaxed at these words. "And Ben?" she asked.
"Ben's fine," Kira told her. They could deal with the truth later on. "We're going to take you to him." Taking Jennifer by the elbow to pull her to her feet, she spoke more loudly for the benefit of the security officer if he was listening in. "You're coming with me."
"No!" Jennifer insisted, and waved at the adjacent cell. "Ben!"
Kira understood. A cold chill swept through her as she released her hold on Jennifer and walked to the next cell. She tried the same code she had seen the Bajoran officer use, and the forcefield fell.
The man within the cell was a mess, clothing torn and bloody, face battered, but it was beyond a doubt Benjamin Sisko.
He lifted his head and, seeing her, smiled with blood-limned teeth. "Nerys," he rasped. "I didn't see how the Prophets could get me out of this one, but I guess they have their ways."
/~iv~/
Bashir and O'Brien beamed directly into the sitting room of the Intendant's suite, which was unoccupied and dimly lit at this hour. While O'Brien checked out the room, Bashir stood staring at the unblemished spot on the carpet where Garak had slammed him down so violently, and he felt a rising sense of nausea. This was the very last place he wanted to be.
He was only drawn out of his horrific reverie by the sound of someone approaching. With a swift, silent gesture for Julian to remain where he was, O'Brien pressed himself back into the shadowy recess beside the door to the next room. A moment later the Cardassian valet, Revar, entered.
"_You_!" the valet cried accusingly at the sight of Bashir. "Where have you been? The Intendant has been furious--I shall inform him at once-"
O'Brien stepped forward and pressed his disruptor into Revar's back. "Yeah, why don't you do that? Contact Intendant Garak. Tell 'm his Terran's come back and he should come right down."
He yanked Revar toward the comm-panel and urged the valet through a brief, verbal message. Once Garak responded, "I will be there immediately," O'Brien broke off the connection and told Revar, "Very good," then shoved him through the nearest doorway and dragged him through the rooms beyond.
Julian followed as far as the mercifully darkened bed-room. There, he stopped at the foot of the bed, overcome by a second wave of nausea as memories of what had happened in this room flooded him. No, he didn't want to be here. Any place in any universe was preferable to _this_.
O'Brien returned alone. Bashir didn't inquire what he had done with the valet. Instead, he asked, "What do we do when Intendant Garak arrives?"
"You'll distract him. I'll take care of the rest."
"How?"
The outer door whisked open. "Distract `m!" O'Brien hissed, and shoved him back toward the sitting room.
Julian stepped out.
"Jules..." Intendant Garak came forward swiftly, almost eagerly, then stopped. "You're not him. You're...that other one. I can see the difference. You're softer than my Jules." He reached out to brush Bashir's jaw. "More frightened."
Bashir flinched away from the touch. "You remember me." Only the knowledge that O'Brien was in the next room kept him from giving into the panic he felt rising within him. As he retreated, trying to keep Garak's back to the bed-room door, the Intendant advanced.
"How could I forget you? Do you have any idea how miserable you've made my life this past year?"
"How miserable I've made _your_ life?" Julian responded in amazement. "After what you did to me?"
"Well, you've had your revenge." He had backed Bashir against a wall. "The memory of that one night we spent together has tormented me. I had you, but you weren't conquered. You gave me your word that you would be cooperative, but you loathed every minute I touched you, and then you took the first opportunity to betray me. No Terran has ever done that. I couldn't rest until I'd had my triumph over you. But you were out of my reach! I thought I would go mad before I discovered my Jules. He's a dull-witted little slut, but _he_ knows who his master is. I could always rely on his obedience--at least, until he vanished yesterday." He plucked at the low neckline of Bashir's bodysuit. "These are his clothes. You know where he is, don't you?"
Bashir's gaze flickered nervously over the Cardassian's shoulder. Where was O'Brien? "I've seen him," he admitted.
"You've changed places with him. I wonder why." The Intendant traced the line of Bashir's exposed collarbone with his thumb. His voice was silken, but something more dangerous glinted in his eyes. "Tell me, in your world, is there another Garak?"
"Yes," Julian whispered. "He's my friend."
"Friend?" Garak's eye-ridges widened suggestively.
"He would never hurt me."
"I'm not going to hurt you." His hand was suddenly at Bashir's throat, threatening to clamp down and choke him. "But I am going to find out what you're doing here. You haven't come all this way for a tender reunion."
"No," Julian answered thickly; the grip on his throat made it difficult to talk. "But I have come here for you." He tried to focus on Garak's face, and not let his gaze wander over the Intendant's shoulder again; there was some stealthy movement in the shadows beyond the bedroom doorway.
O'Brien emerged from the shadows, disruptor drawn. He fired. The blast struck the Intendant squarely in the back, and Julian leapt out of the way as he fell.
"What took you so long?" he demanded.
"I had something else to take care of," O'Brien said cryptically. "I'm sorry. You're all right?"
"I'm fine." He looked down at the Cardassian sprawled at his feet; Garak was obviously still breathing. "He isn't dead."
"No, just stunned. I used the highest level. Leave 'm alone, and he'll come around in a couple of hours with a hell of a headache. We'll be long gone by then."
'Leave him alone,' O'Brien had said. And what if they didn't? "Are we going to kill him?"
"That's up to you."
_His_ Garak, having the man who had raped him at his mercy, would do it as a matter of course. He might even find some poetic justice in repaying his counterpart barely a meter from the spot where that first violation had been committed. And this O'Brien would do it, or not, according to which was more expedient. That he hadn't done so already, and had left the decision up to Julian indicated that he didn't think it mattered.
Julian admitted that some part of him wanted to see this man die too, but he couldn't bring himself to kill. He was too squeamish, too honorable to murder a helpless man, too sensitive to the fact that this Garak did look a lot like his friend--Whatever. He would sort out his reasons later.
But, regardless the reasons, he wasn't afraid anymore. It wasn't that he was out of danger--as long as they were here on Terek Nor, they were far from safety--but that, this time, he was the one who held the power. Life or death; it was up to him. The thing that had terrified him for all these months could be destroyed at a word.
"Er- no."
O'Brien shrugged. "Suit yourself. We'd better get back to the ship before Major Kira calls."
/~*~/
As Kira stood astounded at the entrance to Sisko's cell, the security officer returned to the detention block.
"Subvisor, what are you doing?"
Kira turned and tried to bluff her way out. "I'm taking this prisoner too," she announced.
"Your pardon, Subvisor," the officer replied, "but this Terran is most crucial to the Alliance-"
"I know who he is!" She gave Sisko a smile. "It's my Benjy. We're old friends, aren't we, Benjamin?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"He's coming with me."
"But I can't release him to your custody without specific instructions." A distinct note of suspicion had crept into the Bajoran officer's voice. "I must clear this transfer with Intendant Garak."
"If you insist." And she drew the small disruptor from her belt and shot him before he could even look surprised.
Sisko had crawled to the threshold of his cell, one arm curled close to his chest. Jennifer scrambled out to him. "Benjamin... I heard when they brought you in here. Oh, look at you!" Carefully, she examined the damaged portions of his face. "What've they _done_?"
"I'll be all right," he answered, and lifted his eyes to Kira. "Kira Nerys--all the way from another universe. Smiley brought you over to rescue us?"
"I was meant to get Professor Bateson," she answered. "No one knows _you're_ here. According to the Alliance news reports, you were killed yesterday. O'Brien, your crew, everyone thinks you're dead. When O'Brien brought me over, he brought my commander too."
"The other Sisko..." Ben's eyes were suddenly alight. "Jenny, do you hear that?"
"Yes," Jennifer answered. "And I can't wait to meet him." She threw an anxious glance up at Kira.
The major touched her commbadge, hidden beneath her metallic vest. "Kira to Bashir. We're ready."
A long silence followed--Kira was afraid that she hadn't made contact--then Bashir replied with some awkwardness, "Major, we aren't at- ah- the ship right now."
"What's happened?" she demanded. "Why were you forced to leave?"
"We weren't forced. O'Brien wanted to distract Garak for you. We beamed out, but with no one at the transporter controls, we can't beam back. We're in the docking ring. Can you hold on just a few more minutes?"
"Julian, dammit!" She had no idea how long they could stay here before being discovered. Someone might walk in at any second. And then what?
Kira positioned herself near the entrance to the holding cells, slapping her disruptor arrhythmically against her thigh as she prepared to shoot anyone who came into the office. Images tumbled in her head, alternating between pleasant thoughts of what she was going to do to O'Brien and Bashir when she got her hands on them and less pleasant visions of holding off a horde of Klingon guards with a single weapon and the aid of two injured humans.
Jennifer and Ben sat huddled against each other on the threshold of the cell; she looked terrified and he was giggling--which only confirmed the major's suspicions that the man was out of his mind.
And then, thank the Prophets, her commbadge beeped and the doctor spoke again: "Bashir to Kira. We're here."
"Lock onto my coordinates," Kira replied. Jennifer was trying to help Ben to his feet, but was too weak to manage his weight by herself; Kira wrapped one arm around his waist and hauled him up. "Three to beam back."
"_Three_?" echoed Bashir.
"Just tell O'Brien to do it!"
"Right away, Major."
She felt the familiar tingle of a transporter engaging, and a few seconds later they were on the Bajoran vessel.
O'Brien was agape when he saw who she had brought with her. "Ben?"
"Smiley!" Sisko stepped away from the women's support to give him a fierce one-armed hug, then found Julian over O'Brien's shoulder. "Which Bashir are you?"
"Hers- ah-" Julian indicated Kira. "I'm with her." As Sisko sank down at edge of the transporter platform, he leapt up, glad for the first time since he'd been brought to this universe that he was here. "Let me take a look at you--I'm a doctor. I can help."
And while he examined Ben's injuries, Kira worked to disengage the ship from the docking ring and O'Brien took his place at the pilot's seat. They slipped away from Terek Nor.
/~*~/
For Sisko, the day and a half that followed his arrival at the rebels' main base was a muddle of unending noise and activity. From the moment the ship landed and he stepped out of the exit hatch, he was surrounded by a swarm of eager faces, some unknown, some as startlingly familiar as O'Brien's and Bashir's. A woman had run up and flung her arms around him, crying, "Ben! We heard you were killed!"
As the news spread, more and people came to verify that he had returned. They clasped his hands, patted his back and shoulders, as if they needed to touch him to reassure themselves that he was no ghost.
By the end of that day, Sisko had told his story so many times that he lost all sense of the words. The easiest part was almost the truth: O'Brien had gone to rescue Professor Bateson while he had come back to quash the rumors of his death. The rest, about how he had evaded his reputed death at the hands of the Alliance, he left vague. Whelan and Sforzi were always nearby to fill in the gaps.
They waited until he had gathered a sufficiently large audience, however, before the subject of the invasion was introduced.
Sforzi said, "Have you told them of your vision, Captain?"
Sisko looked at her blankly. Vision?
And Whelan prompted him, "About Terek Nor."
His counterpart had always presented ideas as messages from the Prophets; it was what his people had come to expect. Whether or not these visions were genuine, they were the impetus for this revolution, the promise of a better life that had kept the Terrans fighting.
"Yes." Sisko raised his voice so that the crowd around him could hear. "The Prophets showed me Terek Nor. Not as it is today, a symbol of tyranny and hopelessness. There was no Intendant and no overseers. No slaves were worked to death in the ore processing plant. It was a place where free men and women met to work in a common cause." His audience hung on his words. Even Whelan and Sforzi looked impressed. "I believe the Prophets were showing me an image from our future. _We_ can make this happen. The space station will be _ours_."
The plans had already been laid out; key members of the rebellion were quickly apprised of the parts they were to play, and Whelan took charge of the last-minute arrange-ments. Sisko offered a few practical suggestions. His Starfleet training had made him a better strategist than his counterpart and, while these former pirates knew how to stage a successful raid on a small target, this invasion was on a scale they had never before attempted. _He_ had fought in battles like this. He also knew the Bajoran system and the strengths and weaknesses of that space station in a way that none of them could.
Some of the rebels seemed surprised at his taking an interest in the details, but his advice was readily accepted.
At some late hour, he retreated, exhausted, to his ship, but slept fitfully in one of the chairs in the lounge. When he went to the bridge early the next morning, Whelan and Sforzi were already at their posts, preparing to join the rest of the ships assembled for the invasion force. Jules was there too. Dressed, washed, and shaved, his resemblance to Dr. Bashir was remarkable.
Sisko had not seen the young man since their conversation the day before; when Jules' pain medication had begun to wear off, he'd taken another green capsule and returned to bed. He'd been asleep when they arrived at their destination, and Sisko had asked Sforzi to find someone with medical training to see to his injuries.
"You look much better today," Sisko told him.
"I am much better." Jules brushed one hand over his unbandaged chest and regarded Sisko with a shy expression that was not flirtatious, but somehow hopeful. "All fixed up, and ready to get back to work."
"He wants to come with us," Whelan explained.
"If you'll let me," Jules spoke to the commander. "I'm no soldier, but I want to do _something_ to help." With a glance at Whelan, he added pointedly, "I worked in the mines too, you know--I'd like to see Terek Nor fall just as much as anyone else does."
That was a desire Sisko could respect. "All right, Bashir. Have a seat." He gestured to the communications station. "Why don't you monitor the messages from the other ships --you know how to do that? Sforzi will have enough to keep her busy with the weapons and shields." Then he took the captain's chair. "Mr. Whelan, you may launch us when ready."
Once they were in place at the forefront of the small fleet, and set a course for Bajor.
They entered the Bajoran system without incident, and had passed the first, fragmentary asteroids at the outer rim of the Denorios Belt, when Sforzi reported, "Com-mander, there's a sublight Alliance vessel approaching."
Bashir added, "They're hailing us. I know this code--it's the emergency one Miles taught me." He read the message, then turned to Sisko with a smile. "It's Miles! He's asking us to stop. They want to transport over."
At Sisko's command, they brought the ship out of formation to rendezvous.
As the transporter engaged, he rose from the captain's chair and turned to the upper level of the bridge, heart already beating faster in anticipation. His eyes swept over the figures as they materialized: Kira, Dr. Bashir, O'Brien, Jennifer Bateson--thinner, and her bedraggled hair much longer than his late wife's, but with that same well-remembered and beloved face--and the other Sisko.
They stepped off the transporter platform, Jennifer supporting his counterpart, careful of the makeshift splint on his right arm.
The other Sisko saw him and grinned. "So you're the Emissary-" but whatever he was about to say was lost in the uproar that followed. The bridge crew leapt out of their chairs with cries of surprise and a barrage of questions. Ben Sisko and O'Brien were both trying to make themselves heard at once, Kira was shouting, and Julian chimed in with concerns about the condition of his patients.
When the first commotion subsided, Dr. Bashir finally won out. "Captain Sisko, I insist you lie down. Your arm's been broken in two places, and I'm certain that cheekbone's fractured. I can only guess at the kind of internal injuries you've suffered-"
"There's a bone-knitter in the captain's quarters," Jules said. "The meds who took care of me at the base left it and a few other things, in case we needed them during the battle."
Julian looked surprised, and not pleased, to see his twin. "I didn't think you'd be here. Ribs repaired or not, you ought to be recuperating somewhere safe, not heading off into battle."
"Commander Sisko said I could come," Jules responded defensively. "I wanted to help."
"Well, if you want to help," Julian retorted, "come and help me. I'll need a hand with the medical equipment."
Sullen now, Jules leapt up the steps and followed the others out.
Sforzi and Whelan returned to their posts, still murmuring in excitement. As Kira came down to the main bridge behind them, she threw Sisko a look of sympathy.
"Commander-"
"It's all right, Major." He waved away her concern, embarrassed that he'd been so easy to read. It must have been plain for anyone to see, and yet he had not even wanted to admit it to himself until now.
No matter how many times he'd told himself that this Jennifer Bateson was not _his_ Jennifer, he had never let go of an irrational, unconquerable hope that, when they met, there would somehow be a connection between them.
But he was not the Benjamin Sisko this woman was connected with.
"How did it go?" he asked.
Kira briefly outlined her mission on Terek Nor and how they had concealed themselves after their escape.
"That transport vessel couldn't take us all the way to the Badlands--it hasn't got that kind of power. The Alliance would've caught up with us before we even got out of the system. We decided to hide out here in the Denorios Belt and wait for you. We had a good scare last night, when a Klingon ship came by, but I know a thing or two about hiding out in the asteroid field. I've done it before, back during the Occupation. They never saw us." She hesitated, looking worried, then gave Sisko one last piece of information. "Sir, while I was in the Security Office, O'Brien took Bashir to 'distract' Intendant Garak."
O'Brien returned to the bridge just as Kira completed her report.
"You took him to Garak?" Sisko asked.
"We needed a decoy," O'Brien explained. "Nothing happened to him--I was right there, ready with a disruptor. You couldn't ask for a better chaperone. It turned out to be a good thing he was with us, Commander. I couldn't've managed any of this without him and Major Kira." He nodded to her. "You even brought our Ben Sisko back. I'm grateful to you for all your help."
This sounded like a prelude to a dismissal. "We're not going on to join the battle," said Sisko.
"_We_ are," O'Brien replied. "We can catch up with the fleet before they get to Terek Nor. But this is our revolution to win, and our space station to capture. I dragged you into it, but there's no reason for you to go on any further. You've done your part. More than enough. I'll send you and your people home now."
/~*~/
When Sisko headed to the crew quarters to change back into his uniform, he heard voices--or rather, two variations of the same voice--engaged in mildly anta-gonistic sparring:
"How did it go on Terek Nor, Doctor? Did you get a chance to say hello to Intendant Garak?"
"We had a nice little chat. He sends his regards. He wonders where you are."
"I'll have to tell him, once we get to the station."
"Is that why you _really_ wanted to come along on this mission?"
Sisko paused at the door of the captain's quarters. His counterpart lay asleep; bone-regenerating pads encased his broken arm and a large machine sat whirring on the floor. Jennifer sat curled up, wrapped in a blanket, on a storage chest at the foot of the bunk, gazing at that other Sisko's face with a heart-rending anxiousness.
Dr. Bashir was tending to his patient with the assistance of his own twin. The two were working in tandem--Jules cutting plasti-dermal strips, the doctor affixing them to the damaged sections of his patient's face and applying an instrument something like a dermal regenerator to repair the skin--but they were obviously not comfortable around each other.
"It's fun to think about," Jules admitted. "The whole time I was there, Garak never guessed I was sending reports to the rebellion. Poor, lust-blinded idiot. I almost felt sorry for him sometimes. But I'm sure he's figured it all out by now."
Julian looked up from his work to stare at his twin, and saw Sisko. "Er- sir-"
Jennifer had been oblivious to their bickering, but she raised her eyes when it stopped.
"Commander Sisko," she said. "I wanted to thank you, for both Ben and myself."
"I'm glad we could help," Sisko replied in the same impersonal tone. He waited until Julian had finished treating his patient's facial injuries, then gestured for the doctor to join him out in the corridor.
"How are they?" he asked.
"Captain- ah- Sisko has been severely beaten," Bashir reported. "We've taken care of his worst injuries. He's been in a great deal of pain, and I've given him one of those analgesic capsules to help him rest. Professor Bateson's in good condition in spite of everything she's been through. I tried to send her to bed in one of the other rooms, but she insisted on sitting up with him. I thought it'd be less stressful for her if I allowed her to stay."
"And _you're_ all right?"
"Yes, sir."
Sisko didn't ask him about his encounter with Intendant Garak; there would be time for a full report later and, whatever had happened, Dr. Bashir did not appear to be traumatized by it. Quite the opposite, he seemed more confident now than when he'd left for Terek Nor.
"Ready to go home, Doctor?"
"Sir?"
"We've completed our mission. O'Brien is willing to beam us back to DS9--he'd like to send us as soon as possible so they can be on their way. We'll leave once you're finished here."
It was true that O'Brien was eager to join the battle at Terek Nor, but that was not the reason why Sisko hastened their departure; he didn't want to stay in this universe any longer than he had to himself.
/~*~//~*~//~*~/
Epilogue
/~*~/
Back at DS9, Bashir strolled down the Promenade, happy to be home again.
Walking past the main entrance to Quark's, he caught sight of Sisko and Kira on the upper level, commiserating over what looked like a bottle of Bajoran spring wine. As difficult as this trip to the alternate universe had been for him, it had been even harder for his commander. At least, _he_ had been able to put his own mirror-apparitions to rest.
Then he found the person he'd been hoping to see: Garak, sitting alone at a table in the Replimat. With a small smile, Julian approached.
As he passed behind the tailor's chair, he ran one finger-tip across his back, following the seam where the solid red and the brocaded sections joined. Garak, unused to being touched so familiarly, was jolted; he looked up as Bashir came around to his side and dropped into the adjoining chair.
"Doctor, you're back! I've been very worried--I heard that you'd been kidnaped. You, Major Kira, and Commander Sisko were taken back into that other universe?"
"Yes, we were," Julian answered.
The next question was more tentative. "You saw...him?"
"I saw him. He doesn't frighten me anymore."
It hadn't occurred to him until Jules had said it: _He_ had brought about his enemy's ruin. Whatever the nature of the attraction Intendant Garak felt for him, it had become an obsession. O'Brien had exploited it, not only by using him as bait to draw the Intendant's attention away from Kira, but by introducing Jules to Terek Nor in the first place. The 'poor, lust-blinded idiot' had overlooked the spy in his own bed. When the Intendant, and the Alliance, realized this, he was doomed. And if the Terran rebels succeeded in capturing the station...
It was not perhaps the usual form of justice, but it was a revenge Julian found more satisfying than cold-blooded murder. He could almost feel sorry for Intendant Garak himself.
And, now that he had vanquished the object of his fears, he could finally put this thing behind him and explore his relationship with his friend. He was ready to begin.
"Garak, I've been thinking..."
/~the end~/

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