“I’m not talking about the Federation government,” Shakaar said. “I’m talking about—”

A message over the comm system interrupted him. “Ops to Colonel Kira,”came the voice of Ensign Ling.

“Go ahead,” Kira replied.

“Colonel, the Alonis ambassador is asking to speak with you,”Ling reported. Kira had greeted Tel Ammanis Lent, the Alonis ambassador, over a com channel when her ship had arrived at the station earlier. Because of the environmental suits that the aquatic aliens required in an atmosphere, Lent had chosen to remain aboard her vessel until the reception.

“Tell her I’m on my way,” Kira said, standing from her chair.

“Aye, sir,”Ling responded.

“Kira out.” To Shakaar, she said, “I’m afraid I have to go.”

“Of course,” he said, standing up as well. “Maybe we can continue this later.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll see you this evening.” Shakaar nodded his acknowledgment, and Kira headed for the door. She thought that the impromptu meeting had gone well, but as she strode out into the corridor, she found herself surprised that Shakaar still valued her opinion.

49

Bashir reexamined his preparations. Every tool aboard ship that he could conceive of needing, whether it be a device, a drug, or a member of his limited staff, now populated the medical bay. This time, he would be ready for whatever happened to Ezri. This time, he would not permit her life to be endangered.

“Are you all set?” Bashir asked as he checked her condition on the medical display. In addition to all of the other measures he had taken, he had also primed Ezri for her second contact with the object. He had insisted on being allowed a couple of hours to design a treatment that would fortify those areas and processes within her body that had previously been threatened. Now, as he stood beside the diagnostic bed on which she lay, he felt confident that he had provided Ezri the medical reinforcement to safely withstand the coming trauma.

“I’m ready,” Ezri said. She peered up at him, an expression of determination set into her features. Bashir thought that he also saw a speck of fear in her eyes, an observation that actually pleased him. No matter how strongly Ezri believed that she had to take this course of action, her fear indicated that she had not made the choice without the proper consideration. Indeed, her decision to proceed despite her fear seemed heroic. As he looked down at her adorable round face and into her beautiful deep eyes, an intense feeling of pride surged within him. The emotion filled him up, and all he could think was how much he loved this woman.

“All right, then,” Bashir said. He reached up and tapped his combadge. “Bashir to Bowers.”

“Bowers here.”

“We’re ready to begin,” Bashir told him. As long as Ezri remained in the medical bay, and Commander Vaughn on the planet’s surface, Bowers would be in command of Defiant.

“Acknowledged, Doctor. Keep me informed,”he said. “Bowers out.”

Bashir looked across the room to where Nurses Richter and Juarez sat at neighboring consoles. During Ezri’s contact with the object, Richter would monitor the condition of the Dax symbiont, and Juarez Ezri’s condition, both backing up Bashir’s own observations.

“Well, then,” Bashir said. “Let’s get started.” He reached to a shelf beside the bed and retrieved a tricorder. “I’m lowering the containment field.” On the other side of the bed stood the portable stand, and atop it sat the mysterious object. After the attempt to transport the object had failed, Nog had devised a means of physically moving it via a magnetic containment field. The operation had been delicate work, but an engineering team had managed to remove the object from the Jefferies tube and load it onto the stand.

Bashir worked the tricorder, which Nog had configured as a control interface for the containment field. Around the object, a curtain of blue pinpoints flashed into view, accompanied by a low buzz. In a second, the pinpoints and the hum had gone, as had the containment field.

He looked back down at Ezri. He felt a sudden urge to stop her from doing this, but he fought the impulse. Last time, Ezri’s contact with the object had been accidental and unexpected. This time, he would be with her from the very beginning, and that and his careful preparations would see to it that she made it through the experience.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said, and smiled.

“You bet you will,” he responded, forcing his lips into a thin smile of his own. He thought to say something more, but phrases such as Pleasant journeyand Bon voyageseemed insufficient. Instead, he simply said, “Good luck.”

Ezri reached up, found his hand, and squeezed. He squeezed back, and then she let go. She took a deep breath, lifted her other hand, and reached out above the portable stand and the object. She glanced up once more at Bashir, then lowered her hand. Although the dark substance appeared liquid, no movement rippled across its surface as Ezri’s hand came to rest within it.

Immediately, a rush of air escaped Ezri in a grunt, her eyes fell shut, and her head lolled to the side. Bashir looked up at the diagnostic panel. As he watched, Ezri’s heart rate decreased and her respiration slowed, and her neural activity started to ebb. Juarez called out the changes from his console.

“I see,” Bashir said, more to himself than to Juarez. I see, and I’m ready.He set the tricorder back down on the shelf, exchanging it for a hypospray he had previously prepared. Out of habit, he checked the drug in the ampule—delactovine, a systemic stimulant, since cordrazine had not been completely effective last time—as well as the dosage setting. Then he turned his gaze back to the diagnostic panel, set to act once Ezri’s readings had fallen beneath a certain threshold. But that did not happen. Both her heart rate and her respiration reached a plateau, leveling off well above where they had during Ezri’s first contact with the object. Again, Juarez reported the changes.

Bashir watched the readings remain stable for a few more minutes, then set down the hypo. He checked Dax’s readings, and saw that they remained within a normal range. Bashir’s preventive measures appeared to be working. He would have to keep an eye on Ezri’s neural activity, but at the moment, neither host nor symbiont seemed to be in any danger.

Bashir inhaled deeply, then let the breath out slowly, releasing some of the tension in his body. He peered down at Ezri’s inert form, at the shallow rise and fall of her chest, and wished that he could do something more for her. But for now, all he could do was wait.

Bashir paced. He moved back and forth past the foot of Ezri’s bed, his gaze shuttling between her face and the diagnostic panel. During the past hour, her vital signs had begun to slip again, though not yet in a way that threatened her health. The most significant changes had been in her neural activity and isoboramine levels. Bashir had worked to keep both from diminishing too much, employing a cortical stimulator and a round of benzocyatizine injections. The measures had succeeded in slowing, but not stopping, Ezri’s decline. Soon, if the decreases continued, he would put an end to this.

He stopped, then walked forward until he stood beside the head of the bed. He picked up the tricorder from the shelf, then peered down at Ezri’s soft face. Her skin had paled, he saw, leaving the ribbon of spots down the sides of her face and neck contrasting starkly with her pallor. The cortical stimulator sat affixed to her forehead, the blinking green and red lights of the small device indicating its functional status.