/~v~/

Once they were within transporter range, Bateson directed the pilot to beam them down to a relatively secure spot a few kilo-meters from the shuttle's signal.

"The Bajoran guard run regular patrols through this area, due to increased rebel activity," she explained once they arrived on the planet.  They stood in a culvert sheltered by a cluster of boulders; Jennifer climbed onto one of the rocks to scan the night landscape: The mountains around them were dotted by pin-point lights, and washed with the more diffuse glow of three rising moons.  The narrow, deep cleft of the valley, cut by a glinting river with bright clusters of villages and encampments on both sides, lay below.  "Our shuttle is in that direction --Let's go."

They left the culvert and went down the steep slope to a foot-path.  As they walked the rim of the valley, Sisko noticed the little smile his companion wore while she continued to look up and about her.  He recalled what she'd said about knowing these mountains. "You grew up here."

"Up there." She pointed to the white curve of an illuminated dome that appeared through the trees on one of the lower peaks ahead of them. "Himura Monastery. My mother was a hand-servant to the Vedek in charge.  When she died, Vedek Anarad assumed responsibility for me, brought me up, saw to my education. I met my Benjamin there."

"_He_ was a student at the monastery?" Sisko asked, astonished.

"Oh, no," Jennifer answered. "Benjamin was a 'mine-grub'--one of the children they send to the tunnels too small for grown Terrans to work in." She sighed. "He was such a skinny little thing the first time I saw him...

"I found him hiding in the monastery orchard.  He'd run away from one of the camps in the valley and was looking for food, but it was too early in the year and there was no fruit on the trees. I brought him something to eat, hid him in a gardener's hut.  When he was discovered by the monks, Vedek Anarad sent him right back to the mines. She explained to me that this boy was a Terran--a dirty, violent, irrational animal that had to be strictly controlled to keep it from becoming dangerous.

"I asked her, 'But I am a Terran too--aren't I the same as this boy?'  She told me that she hoped not, that I would prove to be different.

"I saw then that no matter how kindly I was treated, the Bajorans considered me something less than themselves. I was an intelligent, well-trained animal--Vedek Anarad's proof that these Terran beasts could be house-broken."  Another small smile. "What a disappointment I must be to her."

She stopped as they crossed an exposed section of the path, then resumed her story when they were concealed again.

"I saw Ben a few more times after I went to study at the Technical University at Tehlarin. He'd worked his way out of the mines, using his charm, good looks, that smile of his." She glanced at Sisko, dressed in her lover's clothes. "He was always involved in some kind of illegal activity, smuggling, petty scams, and he wanted me to leave the university and join him.  I couldn't do it.  The life he was leading then was not one I wanted to share.  Maybe I was a second-class citizen among the Bajorans, but at least I was free. I was comfortable and safe.  I knew how lucky I was--My Ben, Miles, Jules, any one of the rebels can tell you what it's like to be an ordinary Terran in the Alliance.  I wasn't going to throw away every-thing I had for one handsome man.

"Then, when he got his ship, became the Intendant's..." she shook her head.  "I thought that was the end of it. I didn't see him again for years, until he came to tell me about the rebellion.  I could see that this wasn't just another scheme of his. He was a different man.  He was impassioned.  For the first time, I believed he really cared for something besides himself, and he made _me_ think about more than my own comfort and safety too.

"When we first met, Commander, I thought it was strange that you were nothing like _my_ Benjamin.  You were so reserved, I wondered if there was anything you felt strongly about," she gave him another sidelong, speculative glance; he realized that she was fishing--not for information, but for a reaction from him.  "It wasn't until you declared that you were going after your doctor in spite of the enormous risks that you reminded me of him. My Benjamin's like too.  It scares the hell out of me whenever he does it, but I have to confess it's one of the things I admire most about him."

"Is that why you volunteered for this mission?" Sisko asked.

"In part," she admitted.  "We all owe you, far too much, not to help you when you need it. But it's not just the rebellion that owes you. _I_ do, for both my own life and for Ben's." Then she said, "I know you didn't want me to come with you."

"I didn't want to see you hurt," he answered guardedly.

"No, I'm not the one you're thinking of." Then she asked the question he'd been dreading: "It's my counterpart, isn't it? You know her.  Miles once said-"

"She was my wife."  He'd hoped that they wouldn't have this conversation, but now that it had come, he wanted to deal with it as swiftly as possible.  "She died, five years ago."

An awkward silence followed.  Then, "I'm sorry, Commander. I didn't know."

At the contrite expression on that familiar face, Sisko was immediately sorry that he'd been so brusque. "There was no way you could."

"I should've guessed.  The first time we met, you looked as if you were seeing a ghost. I suppose, in a way, you were. This must be very difficult for you." She lifted one hand to touch his face.

"It was." He took her hand, squeezed her fingertips.  "But I'm getting used to it."  They had finally made the emotional connection he'd once hoped for, but he knew Professor Bateson well enough now to understand that it was not her--only what he remembered of his own Jennifer, and thought he saw in her--that gave him pain.

He let go of her hand and they walked on silently, side by side, until a humanoid figure stepped out onto the path before them.

"Identify yourselves."

"I'm Jennifer Bateson," the professor said, "and this is Ben Sisko."  A bright light played over their faces. The sentry looked to another Terran, an older man who stood in the shadows of the overhanging trees; he nodded. "We're looking for a shuttle that was lost from the space station."

"Captain Sisko," the older Terran stepped forward. "You might not remember me--I'm Russell Toddman.  I was sent to assist miners who escaped the camps."  Other ragged and grubby humans were emerging to stare at them and murmur their names. "We had a message from O'Brien, asking us to keep an eye out for you if you came our way.  I can show you where your shuttle went down. We saw the crash."

"Crash," Sisko echoed with apprehension.  "Will you take us there?"

"The Bajorans would've seen the crash too, and sent someone to investigate," Toddman answered.  "We'll get you as close as we can. Come with us--there's a safer way through the woods."

They left the path for the dark shelter of the trees.

/~*~/

Ironic, Garak mused, that he should come so far to sit in Ops again and wait for news of Julian's whereabouts.  At least, this room had been cleared of non-essential personnel and he was spared the hostility of O'Brien's rebel crew.  The only people who remained were O'Brien himself and the other Bashir.

He couldn't have picked a more incongruous pair of alternates to be held prisoner by. As hosts, they were unfailingly polite --in fact, this O'Brien had shown him more common courtesy than he'd ever received from the Chief--but they were adamant about not leaving him unattended.  Both men kept him under discrete observation, and there had been several whispered conferences; Garak reminded himself that he really knew nothing about them, or what they thought of _him_.  Although they looked like the humans he knew, they were not necessarily as harmless.

He wondered how he was going to elude their protective custody. He would have to, sooner or later.

Since he'd learned who had taken Julian, he'd been tormented by incessant thoughts of that vulnerable human body in the hands of another man.  Another Garak;_that_ was the unendurable part. He knew, as no one else could, what his counterpart was doing with Julian. Loth as he was to admit it, he and Intendant Garak had a few things in common where Bashir was concerned.  He knew how ruthless _he_ would be in obtaining the object of his desire if he had no consideration for that object's sensitivity.

Such thoughts had sent him over here when his sense of self-preservation told him he was better off remaining on DS9. And they urged him to act now.

He turned his attention from the uninformative image of Bajor's nightside on the large viewscreen overhead to O'Brien at the communications console, and asked, "Where do you think they've gone?"

"I've been wondering about that myself," O'Brien admitted. "Why the Kellarcs?  That province is mostly wilds.  The only reason I can think of is the Intendant's gone into hiding there while he works out his plans."  After considering the tailor for a moment, he left the console and came over.  "Maybe it's small comfort to you, Mr. Garak, but I don't think he'll kill Dr. Bashir.  And as long as Bashir's alive, there's hope."

This sudden expression of sympathy left Garak rather puzzled.

"I'm not saying your doctor's not in danger," O'Brien continued. "Our Garak can be as nasty and vindictive as any Cardassian--er, sorry, any Cardassian in this universe--but he wants Bashir alive.  He's taken too much trouble to get `m..." with a glance at Jules, seated a safe distance away, he lowered his voice, "if you see what I mean."

Garak understood; this O'Brien knew as well as he did what the Intendant wanted with Bashir, but didn't want to upset him--or insult him?--by being more explicit.

But Jules, who had been listening after all, put it bluntly: "Intendant Garak likes pretty Terran boys, and he's a little crazy about your doctor."

O'Brien scowled. "Jules," he warned him.

"Why can't I talk about it?" Jules protested.  "It's not a secret--it's why you sent me here in the first place, Miles. Besides, I can tell Mr. Garak as much about the Intendant as you can.  More.  _I_ spent months living with him. I listened to him talk about the doctor hundreds of times."

"I'm sure Mr. Garak doesn't want all the sordid details.  You ought to forget `em yourself."

Garak had the impression there was more going on between the two than he'd previously been aware of. But the squabble ended just as it began to be interesting, when a succession of beeps emitted from the communications console. O'Brien leapt down to the lower level.

"It's from Hsia," he announced as he read the message on the screen.  "The pilot who took your commander and Professor Bateson to Bajor.  He's picked up a transmission from the Bajoran security network: They found the shuttle. Crashed."

Garak joined him at the console.  "Are there survivors?"

O'Brien tapped in a coded question, and they waited for the response.  "No prisoners taken," he said. "The Bajorans think the rebel Terrans aboard must've transported out before the crash.  The whole Kellarc province is on security alert."

"Those mountains must be swarming with search patrols," Jules murmured.

"Hsia's got a fix on Jen and Commander Sisko," said O'Brien. "If the Bajorans come too close, he'll get 'em out. But they're safe enough 'til daylight.  That might give `em time to find the doctor."

"And how long is it until sunrise?" asked Garak.

"Two hours, maybe three." O'Brien sighed.  "If we don't hear from your commander by then, I'll send a team to Bajor, or go myself."

"If you do, I would like to go with you," the tailor humbly requested.

"We'll see," was the grudging reply.  "Look, this could get rough.  Why don't you get some rest while you can?  Use my office."

"We've got plenty of empty quarters around the station," Jules said before Garak could refuse O'Brien's offer.  "Let me find a place for Mr. Garak--I'll escort him, see that he's safe."

Garak knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, but he couldn't over-look this chance to get away from Ops--not to mention Jules' intriguing ploy to see him alone.  "Thank you," he said. "I believe I could use a nap."

/~vi~/

They were intercepted by another pair of guards on the way to the habitat ring; Garak was anticipating trouble, but his escort dismissed the pair coolly by saying, "This Cardassian is in my custody. If you have a problem with that, why don't you take it up with O'Brien?"  His interest was further piqued when they arrived at a lush, Kardasi-style officer's suite.

"These used to be Intendant Garak's quarters," Jules said, and went to the roqa-wood cabinet against the far wall while his amazed guest looked around the room. "I thought you'd be more comfortable here."  He took out a decanter of pale blue kanar and filled a glass, then added exactly six drops of dark liquid from a small, crystal bottle.  He offered it to Garak.

Garak took a sip, and was delighted at the well-remembered flavor. Ilva spice-water! It was almost impossible to obtain outside of Cardassian space, and the synthetic version avail-able at Quark's was so insipid that he preferred to drink his kanar without it.

Jules, watching for his reaction, grinned. "That's just the way the Intendant likes it too."

Of course.  As his counterpart's minion, this young man would be trained to perform such services.

"Can I get you anything else?" Jules gestured to the replicator. "You haven't eaten all day."

"No, dear boy, thank you."  He noted that the young man seemed startled, but not unpleased, by the endearment. "You were going to tell me about you and Intendant Garak."  It was the most plausible reason he could think of for Jules to lure him here.

"I thought your Bashir told you all about _that_." Jules filled a second glass for himself.  Garak was intrigued again; he'd offered Julian kanar on several occasions, but the doctor had never developed an appreciation for it. This Bashir was turning out to be quite fascinating.

"Only a few details.  I know that you were...installed here when my counterpart was in command of this station."

"The 'eyes and ears' of the rebellion on Terek Nor--that's what Miles said when he recruited me."  Jules sat down on the sofa and sipped his drink.  "A lot went on right here in this room. Intendant Garak received dispatches, briefed his officers, sent reports to his superiors.  Even when I wasn't allowed in here, I'd lie down in the bedroom and pretend to be asleep, and hear all kinds of important things.  And I sent every word of it to Miles."

"I'm more curious as to _why_ the Intendant wanted you," Garak prompted. "You said that he bore a personal grudge against Dr. Bashir."

Jules nodded. "He always called your doctor 'that treacherous little whore'.  He thought he'd betrayed him."

"How?"

"By getting away.  My Garak could never forgive that. He had to have him back, but since he couldn't get _him_, he took me instead."  He chuckled.  "It didn't matter to him which Bashir he had, as long as he had one of us. But _I_ didn't run away--not until it got too dangerous to stay here anymore. Maybe I'm not as smart as your doctor, but I know a thing or two about pleasing men.  You're Cardassian, so you know how particular they are, but as long as I did what my Garak wanted, he could be kind. He gave me presents. He hardly ever smacked me around, and he never wanted me to service the other officers.  He was very selfish about me."

"It sounds quite cosy."

Jules gave him a small smile.  "Miles thinks he asked me to do something awful, but it really wasn't so bad.  Much better than what I was used to before. If Intendant Garak had found me before the rebellion, I would've considered myself lucky to be chosen by him.  But there _was_ a rebellion, and the Intendant was our enemy.  I was sent here specially to bring him and his filthy Alliance down, and so I did it."

"A professional attitude," the tailor said.

He was beginning to like this young man. Jules Bashir lacked his Julian's naivete and irrepressible optimism--indeed, how could he have acquired them _here_?--but he had an unflinching practicality and self-interestedness that the doctor did not possess.  While he understood why Julian was disturbed at seeing these qualities in his twin, Garak was charmed.

"And when you took over Terek Nor," he asked, "these quarters became yours as a spoil of war?"

"I asked Miles if I could have them. He didn't want them, and Captain Sisko and Professor Bateson got the other big suite, where the old Intendant Kira used to live.  For the first time, I have something that's _mine_."  He stretched his arms languidly along the back of the sofa.  "All mine. I have these rooms, and a great big bed, all to myself."

At this last remark, Garak wondered if he had misinterpreted Jules's reasons for bringing him here. Was that an invitation?

"Don't you find it rather lonely?" he tested the premise.

"Sometimes. But when someone gets in with me, it'll be someone _I_ want."

"Your Mr. O'Brien seems very fond of you," Garak continued his circuitous approach.

This made Jules laugh.  "The crew think he fucks me already. That's why they let me get away with pushing them around--no one wants to get in trouble with him.  But he's never touched me.  If he did, at least I'd have some reason to be here, but Miles doesn't like to think of me that way."  Jules lifted his eyes to Garak's from beneath lowered lashes--a flirtatious look the tailor had become familiar with in recent weeks.  "What about you?" he asked. "You'd be welcome."

It was a tempting offer.  At another time, Garak might have found this appealing look-alike for his Bashir, trained in the arts of 'pleasing' a Cardassian, a more-than-adequate substitute, but it was a betrayal he couldn't commit--not now, while Julian was lost.

"I'm afraid I can't," he answered with sincere regret.  "You see, I'm in love with someone else."

"Him?"

The tailor nodded.

"I thought so," said Jules.  "_Nobody_ stays up all night talking about poetry."

So, it had been obvious to him from the first. Perhaps it was only to be expected that the truth was perceived by the spy placed in his counterpart's bed--and, considering O'Brien's clumsy attempt at sympathy, by the man who had placed him there. Garak hoped he had not been as transparent to the crew of DS9.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Jules went on. "Me and Intendant Garak. You and the doctor.  It's the same on both sides."

"Indeed," said Garak. "It speaks to Fate, doesn't it?"

"Except that _he's_ always the lucky one."

"I don't think Dr. Bashir would agree with you right now."

Jules, chastened, looked very much like Julian.  "I can see how worried you are about him," he said. "And you want to get revenge on Intendant Garak--I can see that too."

"He has harmed my Bashir once before," Garak answered cautiously.  "He can't be allowed to get away with it twice."

He wouldn't tell Jules that, if the opportunity presented itself, he would wring the life out of the Intendant with his bare hands.  They had shared some confidences, but this was not the time for complete candor.

The boy obviously had conflicted feelings for the Intendant--why seek _him_ out otherwise? Jules wanted something from him that his Garak had not provided, or perhaps what he thought his own counterpart had. No doubt _he_ had made a very dashing impression, crossing universes in quest of his missing lover, but he was not the romantic figure Jules imagined him to be.

"Intendant Garak's not the only one who's selfish." Then Jules surprised the tailor again by asking, "You're going to kill him, aren't you?"  When he received no answer, the young man's eyes flickered down. "I guess it's the only way. He has to be stopped." He set his empty glass on the floor and got up from the sofa.  "I meant what I said: the doctor is the lucky one." After another hesitation, he placed a hand on Garak's chest and leaned closer.

Garak let this Bashir kiss him. The mustache tickled.

When they drew apart, he ventured, "I don't suppose you'd care to help me find him before the Bajorans do?"  It seemed the perfect moment to ask.  "In two or three hours, it may be too late. If I have you with me to deter the guards, we can borrow one of the shuttles, travel to Bajor-"

"Garak, no, I can't do that." The young man sounded sincerely apologetic.  "I told Miles I'd be responsible for you.  You aren't allowed to leave."  Abruptly, he raised his voice to order, "Computer: Security lock.  Seal the door to my quarters --open to my voice command only."  Then he told Garak, "I'd like to get some sleep. If you won't join me, you can have the bed in the servant's room.  I won't have to stand watch over you, will I?"

Frustrated as he was, Garak couldn't help but admire his escort's ruthless sense of duty. It looked as if he would be here for awhile--at least, until he found a way to breach the seal.

With a sigh of resignation, he went to the liquor cabinet and took the liberty of refreshing his drink.  "Would it have made a difference if I'd accepted your generous offer?"

Jules laughed.  "You can't be _that_ good."

/~*~/

With Professor Bateson hacking a path through the underbrush and occasionally guiding Sisko by a light touch on his sleeve, they made their way through the forest. The moons' light barely penetrated the thick cover of leaves overhead; he only caught glimpses of their escorts, shadow-shapes moving in the darkness around him, but it seemed that their numbers were increasing, from a half-dozen to ten, to twenty and more--more than could be accounted for by Toddman's band of refugees. Had other rebel cells joined them?

He asked Toddman, who acknowledged, "News spreads quickly in these mountains.  These people have never seen the heroes of our rebellion before, and they only want to say they've served with you.  Most of them are from the mining camps, Captain," he added confidentially. "They believe you've come to free the miners at last.  It's what they were promised--why they stay here instead of taking refuge in the Sea of Wraiths." And why _he_ stayed as well, Toddman's tone implied.

"We're only here to recover our people from the shuttle," Sisko told him.

"So you say."

Toddman didn't believe him.  How then could he convince the scores that had joined him, expecting him to lead an assault? He heard their whispers, _sensed_ their excitement. He'd been the object of this enthusiasm before, when he'd appeared in the Badlands to quell the rumors of his counterpart's death.  He'd led them to battle then and, like it or not, he was gathering an army now and headed toward...what goal?

There was a break in the trees and the party advanced out onto a broad, downward-slanted clearing. The sky had grown lighter with the approach of dawn, and Sisko could see a column of black smoke rising from the valley head--smoke, he knew, from the plasma fire where the shuttle had crashed.

Their forward escorts were half-way across the clearing, when disruptor shots were fired from the other side.  Toddman was among those vaporized instantly, and a patrol of Bajoran guards charged out. Instead of retreating, the Terrans rushed to meet them, eager for this fight.

Sisko was suddenly aware that Professor Bateson was no longer at his side.

"Jennifer!" he whirled, heart thumping. No, not again; even if she wasn't his Jennifer, he couldn't go through this again-

Hands emerged from a clump of blackthorn bushes, grabbed him, and pulled him in.  A woman's voice--Bateson's, to his relief --hissed urgently, "Stay down, Commander.  Don't let them see you.  Hsia will get us out of here."

They crouched together, disruptors drawn. Perhaps the Terrans thought they'd been killed, or perhaps they were outraged that their leader had been threatened:  Sisko heard his own name shouted as a battle cry as the fight raged around them.

Then, at last, they were engulfed by a transporter beam, and found themselves aboard a ship--not the tiny shuttle that had brought them here.

The leader of the Terran rebellion stood before them, smiling gleefully. "Benjamin Sisko!"

/~vii~/

"We were monitoring coded transmissions on our way to the station.  When I heard that _I_ was on Bajor, I knew it had to be you!" the other Sisko said as he advanced on his twin, beaming with such ferocious enthusiasm that the commander braced himself for a hug. But Captain Sisko only clapped him on the shoulders and gave him a brisk little shake. "I sent Hsia away just so I could pick you up myself.  What brings you to our universe?"

As Sisko outlined the events that had brought him here, his counterpart nodded with ready sympathy.

"I'll go with you," the captain declared.  "We'll find your doctor. Besides, it'll give us a chance to talk. We never got to, the last time you were here."

"Is it safe to transport back down?" Sisko asked Sforzi, who was manning the sensors.

"The fight's moved on into the valley," Sforzi reported. "It looks like our people are driving the Bajorans back."

"What about the crash site?" asked Bateson.  "We weren't far from it when we were attacked.  If the guard posted there has been drawn away to subdue the Terrans and left that area clear, we can make it our starting point."

The shuttle had crashed on a thickly wooded slope, cutting a path of destruction through the trees and leaving a large burnt patch where it had landed.  The nose had been smashed against the hillside, but the aft section remained partially intact.  The trampled grass and the residue of foamy fire suppressants on the scorched trees indicated that the Bajoran guard had been here, but no one was in sight when the trio beamed down.

There was enough light now for Commander Sisko to examine the wreckage--the twisted metal fragments, far-flung seat cushions, shattered control panels, tangled lengths of wire.  No blood, he observed, and no indication that bodies had been removed. "They aren't here."

He hoped for the best, that Bashir had escaped.  Even if the doctor was Intendant Garak's prisoner or had been captured by the Bajorans, there was still a chance for his safe recovery. And if he were dead?  No; Sisko refused to consider that possibility yet.

"I'll see if I can find what's left of the emergency trans-porter," Professor Bateson offered.  "It was at the back of the shuttle, and the log may have survived."

The commander stood watch outside the ruined hull while she investigated within. Captain Sisko went to an outcropping at the edge of the burnt area and stood looking out. The battle had moved closer; sounds of disruptor fire, screams, and explosions could be heard from below.

"Are they headed this way?" Commander Sisko raised his voice to ask.

No answer.  He left the wreckage to see for himself.

"I haven't been on Bajor in a long, long time," the captain told him as he drew near. "But I've been thinking a lot about it lately.  I got my start here, you know."

"I've heard." Sisko followed his twin's gaze. There was some kind of factory or compound at the valley's bottom, crowded between the steep slopes and the river.  It was difficult to discern exactly what was happening, but masses of people were swarming between the buildings.

"_There_," said the captain with a grim smile of satisfaction. "The pergium mining camp.  There are other camps all over this province, all over Bajor, but _this_ is the one I remember. The miners were ripe for revolt--They were only waiting for someone to show them they could do it.  I wish I was there... Why don't we go down and join the fight before it's all over?"

"We were looking for Dr. Bashir," the commander reminded him. "Besides, we don't want to get too close to the battle, not both of us." Hundreds of voices were shouting now; it sounded like a chant, but he couldn't make out the words. "What are they saying?"

"'For the Emissary. In his name.'" He chuckled. "They've heard the old Bajoran legends of the one who would come to deliver the enslaved.  We made sure they did."

"You believe you're this Emissary?" asked Sisko.

The other's focus abruptly shifted to him.  "_You_ are, in your universe."

"So they tell me."

"'They'?" his counterpart pounced on the word.

"The Bajorans."

"And what about the Prophets?" Taking the commander's arm, he drew him closer and, in a lowered, confidential voice, asked, "They _are_ real, aren't they?"

This was why Captain Sisko had been so eager to talk to him. Sisko had wondered before if his counterpart had actually been touched by the Prophets himself, or if his claim to being this universe's Emissary was based solely on Kira's somewhat biased descriptions of _his_ encounter with them.  Now, he had the answer.

"They're real enough," he replied.  "_What_ they are, exactly, I don't know, but they exist."

"Do they speak to you?"

"They did, once."

"They never speak to me," his counterpart admitted with a distinct note of envy.  "I tell my people I have visions--It inspires them to believe. It keeps this rebellion going. But I've never received a real sign."

"Maybe it just isn't time for your Prophets to contact you yet," Commander Sisko offered.

"Maybe...but, sometimes, I think: what if there is only one set of Prophets? Not _mine_ or _yours_, but spanning all the universes?  Gods can do that."

Sisko saw where this was headed: One set of Prophets meant only one Emissary.  One of them must be a pretender.

Fortunately, Bateson emerged from the ruined shuttle at that moment, waving a small, battered piece of equipment overhead. "Found it!" she announced, and came to join them.

"There's some damage to the log, Commander," she said as she handed the component to Sisko. "A lot of data's been lost, but it looks like at least one person transported out before the crash."

"Coordinates?"

She shook her head.

"So, where do we go now?"

"The central guards' complex for the Kellarc province is at Sha'rat," Bateson gave her advice.  "If they've captured Dr. Bashir, they'll take him there for questioning.  If they haven't found him or the Intendant yet, the reports on this shuttle crash and the search for survivors will be received there.  With everything that's happening in this valley, they'll be seriously understaffed."

Sisko nodded and turned to his counterpart.  "If a few of your people can come with us, provide a distraction-"

"No," the captain snapped back. He had been staring out at the battle, face growing more and more stormy by the second; now, as Commander Sisko spoke, he spun angrily on him.  "You can't have them! You've done enough already."  He jerked his head to indicate the continued chant of the rebels. "I'm not the one they're shouting for--They mean you, don't they? You were with them when this fight began.  _You_ sent them off to tear down the mining camp."

"They did this themselves, without my help," Sisko answered. His presence may have inspired them to act today, but they'd been ready for this battle.

"Ben, what does it matter?"  Jennifer tried to placate her lover.  "The important thing is that it's _happening_.  The mines are being liberated.  This is what you've dreamed of for so long-"

"It's _my_ rebellion," he answered.  "My people.  I'll lead them where I want to go."

"Be my guest," Sisko answered.  He was uncomfortable enough with his half-mad twin, but he wasn't going to put up with anything that impeded his search for Bashir.  "I'm not here for your war. I'm on a rescue mission. If your people can help me by drawing the Bajorans' attention--good. Beyond that, you can give them any orders you damn well please.  Go join your battle. _I'm_ going to Sha'rat, alone if I have to."

"Not alone," said Professor Bateson.

Captain Sisko was taken aback.  "Jen?"

"My mission here is to help Commander Sisko," she answered firmly.  "Yours should be too."

The captain glowered from one to other. "All right!" he boomed. "We'll settle this once and for all!"  He whipped out a hand-held comm-device.  "Sisko to Sforzi--Cath, transport us to Himura Monastery."

"Benjamin!" Bateson protested.  But they were already being transported.

Sisko had a brief, fragmented impression of the bridge of the captain's ship, and then they stood in an enclosed garden amid rows of stunted, cultivated fruit trees in flower.  Behind them, the walls of the monastery gleamed in the early-morning light.  Professor Bateson looked around anxiously, as if she were afraid that they would encounter someone she knew.

"We'll see which of us is in charge here," Captain Sisko told them.  "If the Prophets have chosen one of us, I'm going to ask them which it is!"

"Ask them?"

In reply, he pointed to a small outbuilding at the upper end of the garden with an arched gateway similar to the entrance to the temple on DS9, and headed toward it.

"Where is he going?" Sisko asked Bateson as they followed.

"There's a famous artifact in the temple," she explained. "The monks use it in their meditations.  It's supposed to have incredible powers--They say they can commune with the Prophets through it."

"An Orb."

"You know of it?" she sounded surprised.

"I've seen others, in our universe."

"It's not superstition, it is?  He'll really be able to talk with the Prophets?"

"Not talk," Sisko answered, "but he'll see something."

Captain Sisko had stopped at the temple gate. "What are you two whispering about?" he demanded, and before either could answer, shouted, "It's not enough you want my people, you want my woman!"

"Ben, you're being ridiculous," said Bateson.  "There's no reason for this kind of competition." She threw the commander an apologetic glance before she ran to catch up.

But Sisko understood his counterpart better than she realized. This was more than competition. The rebel leader had built his mystique on a borrowed foundation. Perhaps _he_ misrepresented himself as much when he played the role of Emissary for his own Bajor, but at least the wormhole aliens had contacted _him_. This Benjamin Sisko didn't have that sanction, and he needed it to believe that he had truly been chosen to free his people--not only to bolster this rebellion, but perhaps for the sake his sanity as well?

What would happen if the Orb told him his claim was false? Or that his rival was the usurper?

The captain blasted the lock off the temple door, and kicked it open.  "You can't have my gods too!"  He strode up to the ornamental case set above the altar, and flung open its doors.

Sisko had had his own Orb experience, but he'd never seen one as an impartial observer; the other Ben Sisko was engulfed in a light so bright that it seemed to dissolve him.  Bateson leapt forward to intercede, but the commander took her arm to hold her back.

The experience only lasted a few seconds. When the light from the Orb receded, Captain Sisko stood where he had been. Slowly, he reached out again and shut the case.

"Ben?" Jennifer spoke tentatively.

He turned to them with a sudden, flashing grin--Sisko wondered if _he_ looked that manic when he smiled.  "It's all right, Jennifer.  I see the truth now.  I know what I have to do."

/~*~/

"Bashir."

Julian jerked into wakefulness.  He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but after lying on the floor in this dimly lit room for uncalculated hours under the Cardassian's silent gaze, his weariness had finally won out.

He found the Intendant, seated by the door, flask of solen'zaa in his hand.  "Is it time to go?"

"Almost," his captor answered. "You'll be happy to hear that I've been thinking things over and I've decided to take your advice. I'm going to leave you, just for awhile so that I can attend to a few other matters without encumbrance.  I'll take you someplace a little more commodious.  You can clean yourself up--you're beginning to stink, and I've never been able to abide the smell of human sweat.  We'll get you out of that filthy rag."  There was a certain suggestiveness to this that made Julian clutch his blanket protectively. "But before we go, I want another piece of information from you.  I've been trying to remember... When you and Major Kira first intruded into this universe, you did not have access to a transporter.  You were discovered in a small passenger vessel near the Denorios Belt."

"Yes," said Bashir, wary at this new line of questioning.

"How did you get there?"

He didn't answer.

"I seem to recall that, when you were first brought to Terek Nor, you spoke of...a wormhole?"  The Intendant watched his prisoner closely.  "A connector between the two universes?"

Bashir still refused to answer, but Garak must have seen some-thing in his expression, for he smiled.

"Lying little Terran.  I should have expected more of your deceit.  Tell me--Did your Federation create this gateway to invade our world?"

Julian shook his head.

Garak tucked the flask of solen'zaa into his belt, rose, and crossed the small room to stand over his prisoner. "I think a visit to the Denorios Belt is in order."

"The wormhole won't take you back to our world," Bashir told him; he was reluctant to speak at all, but he had to try and dissuade the Intendant from this exploration. "Major Kira and I came here by accident."  Unless Intendant Garak duplicated the plasma leak that had brought them here that first time, the Cardassian would travel to the mirror-Gamma Quadrant. And find...what? A benevolent Dominion? Friendly Vorta and docile Jem'Hadar? He lied: "It isn't stable.  We can't always predict where it will take us.  You could wind up anywhere in this universe, or in ours."

"I think I'll take my chances," the Intendant replied. "Besides, what better way is there? Your people are undoubtedly monitoring for transporter activity aboard your station and they will be ready to intercept us the minute we return.  But they won't be guarding this wormhole, will they?"

"They'll notice when a ship comes through."

"A cloaked ship? Surely, it will appear as an anomaly, unrelated to the incidents of this morning. And, as you have so helpfully pointed out, I can be far away from your station before I'm discovered."  Abruptly, Intendant Garak reached down to yank Bashir to his feet.  "It's time.  Computer: Intendant's pre-rogative, override code 66073-Green. Lock on to my coordinates. Prepare site-to-site transport for two. Engage."

Bashir struggled against the arms that held him pinned, even as the transporter beam surrounded them.  They materialized at the foot of the bed in the Intendant's old quarters.

*Here again*, Julian thought with a now-familiar pang of sickened dread.

The room was dark, and a single person lay asleep on the bed. At the glimmering light of the transporter beam, this person awoke and whirled up, startled, bringing a disrupter out from beneath his pillow to aim at the intruders.

It was his own twin.

Keeping his weapon trained on them, Jules shouted: "Garak!"

It wasn't until he heard a soft footfall at the doorway that Julian realized his counterpart was not expressing surprise, but was summoning help.

/~viii~/

The Intendant turned swiftly, then smiled when he saw that his counterpart was unarmed.

"Ah, Garak the tailor," he spoke with amusement. "I hoped we would have the chance to meet--Your Bashir speaks so highly of you." He indicated Julian, whom he held as a shield before himself, by waving the disruptor under his chin.  "I'm not surprised that you've come all this way to rescue him."

"I've heard a lot about you as well," Garak replied.  Relieved as he was to see Julian alive, they were not out of danger yet. "I hope you won't disappoint my expectations.  If you're as reasonable as any Elim Garak ought to be, you'll release Dr. Bashir before this becomes...unpleasant."

"But why should I? You have _that_ one-" he tilted his head toward Jules, who kept his weapon on them, ready to shoot. "It's a fair exchange.  One Terran whore is just like any other, and there's no difference between these two. Deceitful, treacherous little pieces, the pair of them. Take my word for it, you're better off without him--_I_ certainly wouldn't be in this position if we'd never met.  And yet, it is hard to give him up, isn't it?"  One hand moved slowly over the bare side of Julian's chest; Julian went rigid at the touch, and his captor chuckled.  "A tragic weakness, one I suspect we share.  After all, we have so much in common."

"Perhaps," said the tailor, "but there is one important difference between us:  You've been successful up until now. You've never been humbled.  You've haven't had to learn from your failures.  You don't even realize that you've lost."

"Lost?" the Intendant echoed cynically.

"I've alerted Mr. O'Brien," Garak informed him. "The shields have been raised all over the station and a security team is on its way.  If I were you, I wouldn't insist on fighting a futile battle when a strategic retreat is the wiser course of action."

"You're saying that you'll let me leave here quietly?"

"I'm offering you a chance. Surrender the doctor right now, and the Terrans may be merciful. You might survive. But," Garak's voice, which had been cool and courteous, now took on a note of menace, "if the doctor is harmed, I can guarantee you will not. I'll see to that myself."

The Intendant's smile broadened at this threat. "I don't doubt your sincerity, Tailor.  Believe me, I understand exactly how you feel, seeing your property in someone else's possession." His hand slid down Bashir's chest, moving over the slender torso in a suggestive caress until he reached the groin; he took a fistful of blanket, and began to gather it up. Julian's eyes, fixed on his lover's, were wildly pleading, desperate. "But, as much as you'd enjoy wringing my neck right now, you won't.

"I'm not going to surrender to the Terrans' mercy--They have far more reasons to want my death than you can imagine.  No, I have a better idea.  I was hoping your Bashir might be useful in convincing O'Brien to allow me to leave Terek Nor unmolested, but I think you'll be more tractable. Who knows when O'Brien's revolutionary sentiments will overcome his personal affections? _You_, on the other hand, will spare my life as long as it safe-guards his."  A flick of his fingers brought a faint, strangled sound from the doctor.

"What is you want?" the tailor snapped, his veneer of composure breaking--not just at seeing Julian being handled so callously, nor at his own helplessness, but at the humiliation of being manipulated by a stratagem he once might have used himself.

"Before I give you Bashir," the Intendant answered, "why don't you give me that suit you're wearing?"

Whatever demands Garak had anticipated, this was not among them. "I beg your pardon?"

"Let's just say I've taken a fancy to it.  I suppose it's one of your own designs?"

"Yes, it is," Garak answered, mind working as he unfastened the tunic's hidden clasps.  "But if you're intending to leave Terek Nor in my place, surely you realize that you won't get very far." He tossed the garment to the foot of the bed. "The Terrans will be as eager to fire on a Garak wearing red as one in black."

Julian bucked suddenly in the Intendant's grip.  "Elim-" he tried to warn him, before he was cut off at a sharp jab from the disruptor.

"True," the Intendant acknowledged.  "It may be difficult to leave the station in the usual way, but consider this scenario: When the guards arrive, they'll find the remains of one dead Cardassian, and one living one, anxious to return to his own universe. O'Brien will personally escort me to the transporter. And, over there, a humble tailor won't draw much attention."

"It has some potential," Garak conceded.

"I'm so glad you approve."  He turned the disruptor toward Garak--away from Bashir.

The doctor drove one elbow back into the vulnerable spot just below the Cardassian's breastplate, and his hand chopped down on the Intendant's wrist; the disruptor went off, searing the carpet centimeters from Garak's feet.  As the arm around him loosened, Julian twisted to land another blow on the sensitive nerve cluster just below his captor's ear.  Once his twin was free, Jules fired.

The Intendant hit the floor. Julian fell on him so swiftly that Garak was first afraid he had also been hit, but the doctor was thumping furiously with both fists, shouting in incoherent rage; he went on until Garak took him by the forearms and gently drew him up.

"There's no need to be sloppy about it," the tailor said in an equally gentle voice.  "One swift blow in the right place will suffice.  Or one shot."  He picked up the Intendant's disruptor. "I will gladly do it for you--unless, of course, you'd rather..." he turned the weapon's handle toward Julian, acknowledging that _he_ had more right to do this.

Julian stared at him blankly, as if he had to let the words sink in.  "He was going to kill you," he said.  "I-"  Then he sobbed, "Oh god, Elim, I practically _told_ him..."

Garak put both arms around him. "Ssh, my love. It's all right. It's over."  Revenge was set aside as more urgent matters claimed his attention.  "My dear," to Jules, who had climbed off the bed and was pulling on his robe, "will you please summon Mr. O'Brien?"

"But you said the guards were already on their way..." the young man's look of confusion cleared. "Oh."

"I'm afraid there wasn't time," Garak answered.  "Under the circumstances, I thought a lie would be more prudent." Against his shoulder, Julian let out a small, half-choked laugh; Garak patted his back.  "Tell him we've captured the Intendant, and that the doctor is safe."

/~*~/

They returned to the ship against Commander Sisko's protests. The Orb was in its cabinet on the floor beside the captain's chair, and the captain sat, staring fixedly out at the star-field before him as they circled Bajor.  Bateson stood at the back of the bridge, watching him; Commander Sisko gathered from her troubled expression that his twin's pensiveness was unusual.

The crew were waiting patiently for orders, but Sisko was determined not to be dragged along on whatever escapade this madman intended.  Taking matters into his own hands, he gave the command:  "Mr. Whelan, take the captain and Professor Bateson to Terek Nor, and then we're coming back-"

"No," said the captain.

Whelan didn't glance back, but his hands hovered over the control panel.

"Where are we going, Ben?" Jennifer nudged gently.

"To the temple."

"But we just left the monastery."

"No, not the monastery... The Temple of the Prophets.  The Celestial Temple."

She frowned, puzzled.  "And where is that?"

"I don't know," her lover admitted. Fist supporting his chin, he continued to gaze at the stars. "But it's out there..." He whirled on Commander Sisko. "_You_ know, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sisko answered stonily.

The captain chuckled.  "Don't you?"

"Captain," Sforzi interrupted, "there's a voice message coming from Terek Nor.  It's O'Brien--he wants to know if we can get a message to Commander Sisko."

Sisko went to the communications station; Sforzi flipped a switch on the comm-panel so they could speak.  "I'm here, O'Brien. What is it?"

"Commander?  Come back to the station.  Bashir's not on Bajor. He's here on Terek Nor.  Intendant Garak too--We got `im."

"I'll be there right away.  Sisko out."  Then he told the captain:  "We're going to Terek Nor."

"The Temple," the other Ben insisted.  "First, tell me where it is, _then_ we'll go back to the station."

Sisko had had enough of this.  He spun the captain's chair around and leaned forward to put both hands on the arms. "You can go hunting for your visions any time-" and he was caught completely off guard when Captain Sisko swung a fist and punched him squarely in the jaw; the force of the blow sent him sprawling on the deck, but he was up again immediately as his counterpart sprang forward.

As they crashed against the transporter console, Sforzi and Whelan leapt from their chairs, and Jennifer shouted, "Ben! Commander! Stop it!" but none of them dared to intervene.

The captain grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back.  "_You_ don't belong here!" he roared.  "You're an aberration!" Another shove.  "A false messenger for _my_ Prophets--You want to keep me from them!"

Though Sisko landed several hard blows, they did not deter his outraged opponent.  He was fighting a man far beyond reason. There was only way he was going to win.

He took the disruptor tucked into his belt, and smashed the butt against the side of his twin's head.  It wasn't enough to knock the other Sisko out, but it left him dazed and allowed Commander Sisko to push him off and throw one good punch. Once his opponent lay flat on the deck, he sat on his chest and pointed the disruptor at his face.

"First," he said, "you're taking me back to the station."

/~*~/

Once the ship was within Terek Nor's cloak, Sisko beamed over to the habitat ring.  By the time he reached Bashir's quarters, the Intendant had been taken away and the guards had gone with him. Only O'Brien and Jules remained in the sitting room--the latter on the sofa in an elaborately patterned, oversized robe, and the former pacing furiously.

"-'escort 'm to empty quarters,' you said. So how the hell did he wind up in _yours_?"

"Jealous, Miles?"

O'Brien gaped, flushed red, then looked relieved as Sisko came in.

"Where's Dr. Bashir?" Sisko asked immediately.

"In the bedroom. Your Garak's looking after him."

"_My_ Garak?"

"He said he came over to help-"

But Sisko was already headed for the bedroom.

He was about to shout, to demand Garak explain what he was doing here--and then, from the doorway, he glimpsed the two in the dimly lit room: Garak, seated at the foot of the bed, cradling the grime-covered, blanket-clad doctor and speaking in a strangely soft, crooning tone, as if he were comforting a child who'd just awakened from a nightmare.

Sisko understood now why Garak had been so anxious to recover Bashir.

Then Bashir looked up, saw him, and scrambled off of Garak's lap. "Er- Commander-"

Under the circumstances, Sisko decided to overlook the awkward situation.  "Are you all right, Doctor?"

"Minor injuries, sir," the doctor reported.  Flustered and embarrassed, he tugged his blanket into order, and stood a little straighter, transforming from frightened child to proper, if bedraggled, young officer.  "I've been banged up a bit, and I'm a mess, but I wasn't- er- I was telling- ah-Garak-" he glanced at the tailor, who still sat on the bed behind him, watching Sisko with an unreadable expression, "I wasn't sexually assaulted.  The Intendant never got around to it."

/~*~/

When Bashir went into the bathroom to clean up, Garak went with him.

"Let's get you out of that filthy rag."  He reached for Julian to help him out of the blanket, but stopped when the doctor's eyes went wide.  "I'm sorry--Perhaps you would rather I leave you to do this by yourself?"

But Bashir rallied swiftly.  "No, Elim. It's all right," he insisted.  "Don't you think I know the difference?" Taking the tailor's hand, he lifted it to his face to brush the knuckles against his unshorn, sooty, tear-streaked cheek, then led it to the knot that held the make-shift garment in place.  With Julian's hand still over his, Garak tugged the knot loose; the blanket dropped to the floor, and Bashir stepped backwards toward the shower. "Want to join me?  I wouldn't ask the man who held me captive for twenty hours to soap me up, but _you_ are welcome to."

Garak thought that this was meant to be a joke.  Although Julian had made light of his injuries, now that he stood naked, Garak could see the raw expanses of scraped flesh and every alarmingly purple bruise; he was in no condition for any kind of physical contact.  "I don't think I'd better," he responded in kind.  "We'd never get out again, and Commander Sisko is waiting."

The doctor smiled, then grew solemn as they met each other's eyes.  By silent, mutual agreement, they decided not to discuss _that_.  Neither had any idea what Sisko intended to do about their relationship.

He climbed into the shower, but before he turned the water on, there was knock at the door; Julian stuck his head out of the cubicle as Garak went to answer it.

Jules, now dressed, came in with a bundle of clothing.  "I thought you could use something to wear.  Don't worry--it's not a cat-suit."

"Thanks," Julian said coolly as Garak took the bundle.

His twin replied with one word--"Lucky"--and went out again.

The tailor turned to lay the clothes out on the sink counter, and found Julian still at the open shower door, regarding him with curiosity.

"Elim?" he asked.  "You are planning to tell me what you're doing in _his_ quarters, aren't you?"

/~*~/

Sisko and O'Brien remained in the sitting room.

"I should be getting up to Operations, Commander," said O'Brien. "Now our captain's back, he'll want to know what's been going on.  Jules can escort you up when you and your people are ready to go."  He headed for the door, when Sisko stopped him.

"Mr. O'Brien, wait.  Before you go, there's something you and I have to discuss."

Since his first visit to this alternate universe, Sisko had pondered certain questions.  Some of these had been answered today, but one remained: These Terran rebels were a pragmatic people; they didn't waste their time on frivolous activities, and they were almost ruthless about doing whatever was necessary to get what they needed.  In the midst of a war for their freedom, why had the key scientist and strategist of the rebellion spent so much time and effort on designing a universe-crossing transporter when more crucial matters must demand their attention?

"You told me that you were working on the transporter to bridge our universes so that you could send your refugees to someplace safe," he began. "But that isn't the reason, is it?  What is it you're really after? Technology? Weapons?"

O'Brien stared at him, speechless for a moment, then answered frankly: "We were after whatever could help us win this fight."

"And what about Bashir? He's been your spy before."

"We sent him to warn you about the Intendant, but he's also pretty good at remembering what he sees and hears.  I thought that if he happened to see anything we could use, he'd bring back information about it.  And, I was hoping Jules might be able convince you to help us out.  You've been sympathetic to our cause before." O'Brien went on eagerly:  "When I was at your station, there was a small warship--I was sorry I didn't have the time to get its specifications. With a ship like that, we could smash the Alliance fleet and have our victory in a matter of months-"

"No," Sisko stopped him.  "I can't do that. It's expressly against the principles of my Federation to interfere in the development of other civilizations.  I've bent that rule, participated in your rebellion, for my own personal reasons, but giving you technical information is another matter."

Bashir emerged then in his borrowed clothes, Garak protectively at his shoulder.  Both looked as if they were braced for an explosion from Sisko, but he simply told them, "All right, gentlemen--Let's go home."

/~*~/

Captain Sisko had not gone in search of the wormhole, but instead returned to the station; he stood with his crew and Professor Bateson around the central display table as the commander and his party arrived in the Operations Center. Ignoring the Cardassian and the doctor, he cast a glowering glance at his own twin, then spoke to O'Brien:

"Smiley! Come see what I've got!"  He stepped aside to reveal the cabinet on the table.  "It's a holy Orb, taken from the Bajoran temple at Himura.  Through it, I can commune directly with the Prophets.  I've gazed into its depths already--It's shown me things you won't believe."

O'Brien met Bateson's worried gaze as he asked, "What did this Orb show you?"

The captain flashed that dangerous smile again.  "What it is the Prophets want.  A Bajor free of tyranny and the misery of the enslaved.  An end to the Alliance!  We've come very far in doing their work, but we haven't gone far enough.  We need to strike a fatal blow against our oppressors. It's time to begin. We're going to invade Bajor."

From his counterpart's words during their fight, Commander Sisko inferred that this other Benjamin's encounter with the Orb had assured him of the sanction of his Prophets, but _this_ seemed to fit a little too conveniently with the captain's own personal agenda.  The expressions of others around the room--especially Jules's archly raised eyebrows--told him he was not the only one to think so.

O'Brien, however, was nodding thoughtfully.  "We could do it. With the fleet to back us, Terek Nor is in a good position for an all-out attack."

"Our people are fighting in the Kellarcs," Bateson added reluctantly.  "If they're to succeed, we have to give them our immediate support."

"All the signs have been there!" Captain Sisko crowed. "You two are always telling me that Terek Nor is too vulnerable. The fleet captains tell me that we have the power to launch a full planetary raid.  And today, the miners are in revolt! What more do we need?  The Prophets have only confirmed that we are on the right path!  Once we have Bajor, Cardassia is next!  We'll cut a swath of worlds between here and Earth!" He turned to O'Brien. "Smiley, send these people back where they came from--I've got a lot of work for you."

"Right, sir."

As O'Brien and Jules escorted them to the transporter, Com-mander Sisko asked in an undertone, "Surely you don't believe that the Prophets told him to attack Bajor?"

"No," O'Brien admitted.  "But that doesn't mean it's not a good idea. Bajor is right at our feet--it's best we eliminate that threat before they eliminate _us_.  And it'll make a good base for future strikes."

"I thought your goal was to return the Terrans to Earth?"

"It is," he shrugged, "but we have to start somewhere, don't we? Our homeworld's hundreds of light-years away and, besides, all of it was our Empire a century ago."

"You'll let us go?" It had occurred to Sisko that they might be held hostage for Federation technology.  These _were_ ruthless people, and he knew how useful that technology would be to them now.

O'Brien understood. "Do you think we'd keep you here, after all you've done for us?" He sounded offended.  "It'd be damned ungrateful.  Besides, I get the feeling our Captain wants you gone as soon as possible." Both men looked to the center of the room, where Captain Sisko had already dismissed his alternate from his attention and was expounding enthusiastically on his plans for Bajor to his bewildered but stalwartly loyal crew. Professor Bateson glanced in their direction; Sisko nodded his farewell to her in return.

"We'll stay out of your universe from now on," he agreed. "No more interference.  But, Mr. O'Brien, I want it understood--no more visits to _our_ universe."

"Understood," but O'Brien's face was inscrutable; Sisko couldn't tell if this was a promise he meant to keep.

"What about Intendant Garak?" asked Julian.  "What will happen to him?"

"We've got him in a cell in Security for now. He'll be put on trial for his crimes against the Terran people, and then we'll execute 'm."

Both Bashir and Sisko were shocked at this casual announcement. "Isn't that rather extreme?" the doctor asked.

"You can say that, after everything he's put you through?" O'Brien responded.  "You know he and Intendant Kira were responsible for a lot of deaths on this station--it'd only be fitting if he died the way most of 'em did, right on the Promenade."

Garak murmured, "I should have killed him myself when I had the chance."  He would've been mercifully quick about it.

After O'Brien saw them up onto the transporter platform, he went down to the control console.  Jules lingered.

"It'll be all right," he told them softly.  "Captain Sisko's mind is on bigger matters, and I can convince Miles to delay the execution.  I'll get him to place Intendant Garak in my custody."  At their amazement, he added, "I won't hurt him--but he can give us lots of information about the Alliance. And maybe I can teach him a few things too." He smiled. "It'll give me something to do."

Then the transporter engaged, and they were beamed out.

/~end~/

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