“Movement isn’t proof of life,” Julian said, turning and walking across the room again. “Stars move, planets move, oceans move, but they’re not alive.”

“That’s not quite the same thing,” Ezri said after Julian had turned back toward her. “And no, the object’s movement isn’t proof that it’s alive, but it does suggest the possibility.”

“A ‘possibility’ isn’t enough to justify the risk you want to take,” Julian maintained.

“I think it’s more than a possibility that this thing is alive; I think it’s a probability,” she said. “More than that. I believe it isalive. I sensed a mental contact with it.”

“You were in a coma,” Julian implored her. “You might have dreamed that.”

“Yes,” Ezri said immediately, which seemed to surprise him. “You’re right. I might have dreamed it. But I didn’t dream the drop in my isoboramine levels.” Ezri had already voiced her opinion that the change in her body chemistry indicated that a connection had been made between Dax and the object.

“Your body and the body of the symbiont have a physical link, facilitated by the isoboramine,” Julian said, walking back toward the desk. “Even though you touched the object, no physical link was made between it and the symbiont.”

“Maybe a connection was made through subspace,” Bowers suggested.

“Maybe,” Dax agreed, looking over at the lieutenant. “But back in the pools on Trill, Dax communicated with other symbionts not by physical contact, but by energy surges. And there’s certainly plenty of energy around here these days.” She peered up at Julian. “You even said yourself that the object and the energy in the clouds and in the pulse might be related.”

“I did,” Julian admitted, “but that was only speculation. All of this is only speculation.”

“I think it’s more than that,” Ezri said. “And if I’m right about the object being alive, and about Dax being in mental contact with it, then I might also be right about it having knowledge of the pulse.” She took a breath and raised her hands up onto the desk, putting them there palms down. “Julian, Sam,” she said. “I’m not sure that what I want to do will work. Maybe the object isn’t alive, or maybe Dax won’t be able to communicate with it, or maybe we won’t learn anything that will help us stop the pulse. But I am sure—we’re all sure—that if another pulse launches into space, the Vahni civilization will be destroyed.”

“I know what’s at stake,” Julian said quietly. “But you can’t quantify life. You can’t say that risking one to save another, or even another four billion, is justified.”

“You also can’t qualifylife, Julian,” she told him. “You can’t say that it’s better to save Ezri Dax than it is to save even one Vahni Vahltupali.”

Julian leaned forward, putting his hands on the desk, his fingers splayed. “I can say that. It’s better for me.”

Ezri saw the love and the pain in his eyes. She understood what she was asking him to face, but she also knew that it was the right thing to do. “It would be better for me too not to try this,” she said. “I don’t want to die. That’s why I need you, to make sure that I don’t.”

Julian grunted and pushed himself away from the desk, again retreating across the room. “You don’t want to die?” he asked, and Ezri was surprised to hear skepticism in his voice.

“No,” she said, not knowing why Julian would even ask such a question. “Of course not.”

He looked at her anxiously, then looked away. She could see him holding something back from her.

“What is it?” she asked. Julian looked over at Sam, and Ezri gathered that he did not want to reveal what was on his mind in front of the lieutenant. “It’s all right, Doctor,” she said, emphasizing to him that this conversation, this disagreement, was wholly professional, and that it would not divide them personally. “You can speak your mind.”

“I am concerned, Lieutenant,” Julian said haltingly, “that your fervor to put yourself in harm’s way may be an overcompensation for the loss of Ensign Roness.”

Ezri felt momentarily stunned at the statement—at what sounded very much to her like a betrayal. Since returning to duty after Gerda had died, Ezri had performed her duties skillfully and without agonizing over the loss of a crewperson under her command. Off duty, though, in her quarters—in the quarters she shared with Julian—she had suffered. Continued to suffer. And Julian knew that.

She opened her mouth to respond, but Bowers spoke first. “Pardon me, Doctor,” he said, “but I don’t see any ‘fervor’ here. I just think the lieutenant has an understandable desire to do what she can to try to save the Vahni.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” she said to Bowers. She studied Julian for a moment and saw the pain still in his eyes—pain at the trauma she had undergone yesterday. “I’m not eager to do this because of the risk involved,” she said. “But you’re right to question me about that, Doctor, because you know how much the death of Ensign Roness has affected me on a personal level.” Ezri suffered the loss because Gerda had been a young officer with a long life and career ahead of her. And because Gerda had been her friend. And yes, because it had been Ezri’s orders that had sent the young woman to her death. Ezri had cried in Julian’s arms about it more than once, and he too had been emotionally affected by what had happened, perhaps even more so than she had. But even with all of that, Ezri had managed to find solace, and the strength to perform her duty, from her belief that she had made the right choices, given the right orders. Ezri would bring Gerda back to life in an instant if she could, but the two of them had saved tens of thousands of Vahni lives. Now Ezri wanted to save billions.

“I’m sorry,” Julian said. “I’m not questioning your ability to command…I just…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Ezri told him. “I understand.” She stood up. “But you’re wrong about my motivations. I was a counselor, and I know what’s going on inside of me. This has nothing to do with Gerda. This has to do with saving a lot of people, and me believing I may be able to help accomplish that.”

“But the risk…” he said.

“There’s risk in everything we do. But I believe that a direct, planned contact with the object—” She pointed to the display, to the image of the gray mass, without looking away from Julian. “—might allow Dax to communicate with whatever intelligence is behind it, and possibly find some means of stopping the pulse. And I believe that you’ll be able to keep me alive while I try. In my judgment, it’s a risk worth taking.”

Julian gazed at her and said nothing.

“Sam,” Ezri said, “what do you think?”

Bowers stood from his chair. He looked from Ezri to Julian. “I don’t like it,” he said. “It’s dangerous, and I have no idea how to measure the chances of success.” He turned back to Ezri. “But under the circumstances, I also think it’s a risk we should take.”

Ezri nodded to Bowers, then regarded Julian. He looked at her for a long time. Finally, he lifted his hands up at his sides, then let them clap back down against his body. “All right,” he said.

46

Something’s going on,Quark thought as he marched along the Promenade toward the bar. Kira in a dress uniform, Alonis and Trill coming to the station and attending an event with an Andorian and a Capellan—one of the only Andorians on DS9 being a Federation ambassador, and the only Capellan, a Starfleet admiral. This would be more than a “gathering,” as Kira had called it. Something was definitely happening, and Quark wanted to know about it.