The silence was deafening. As if in a dream, Jack turned to stare at Gus. Gus stood crouched over the helm, the chair lay fallen and forgotten on the deck. He watched as Gus’ hands flew across the controls, watched as his lips moved but issued forth no sound. Jack turned to the right, his eyes seeking out the small Yestovian. Ognij had moved from the captains chair over to what passed for the science station on the small vessel. His lips moved as well but said nothing. Jack watched fascinated as a single tear worked its way down the round face of the alien. His eyes followed as the tear pooled for an instant on the underside of Ognij’s chin. It hung there for what seemed a lifetime before finally being overcome by gravity to fall silently to the deck.

A voice broke the silence.

"Lucky for us, we weren’t on that ship. Now, gentlemen, if it’s not too much trouble, could you take me back to the Station so I can arrange another transport?"

The Ferengi. Jack viewed him with narrowed eyes, his hand instinctively reaching for his disruptor. Gus was quicker off the draw and the offending creature fell to the deck without a word. Jack turned back to the view screen without giving Quark a second thought.

"This really is none of my business, doctor."

"Granted. However, we thought it might have something to do with what you and Odo are working on."

"That is none of your business, doctor."

They were at a stalemate. John Marshall leaned back in his chair convinced once again that a decision made when he was much younger to take all of his meals alone had been a prudent one. There was nothing more irritating to the appetite than the company of well meaning people who lacked the good sense to leave well enough alone.

He allowed his gaze to take in the rest of the replimat. That there were so few people about suited his purpose, being early enough in the morning for only a handful of station residents to be wandering either to or from work. Anyone seeking him out at this time of the day did so because they needed his assistance, not because they sought casual conversation. That the good doctor and the station counselor had tracked him down at this hour indicated they were concerned about something, however as he suspected it was a something he was not at liberty to discuss.

"As her friend then," prompted Ezri.

"I understand your concern, counselor, but Colonel Kira is not my friend, she is my commanding officer." He held up his hand to forestall their protestations. "Now you tell me the two of you invited the Colonel and Mr. Odo to dinner last week. Everything seemed to go along splendidly. However, since that evening, according to you, the two of them have been behaving oddly. I do not doubt that. However, the emotional well being of the Colonel interests me only in so far as it effects her ability to command. I have not observed in her any diminished capacity in that respect to her behavior. Are either of you prepared to show me evidence to the contrary?"

They exchanged guilty glances, but both Julian and Ezri shook their heads.

"Are either of you prepared to show me any evidence that either the Colonel or Mr. Odo have in any way broken the myriad rules and regulations particular to the establishment and maintenance of order on this station? Because, if you cannot, we really have nothing further to discuss."

"Come on, Ezri," said Julian rising from the table. "We should have known better than to ask."

Marshall saluted them with his coffee mug. "Adieu, doctor. Adieu, counselor. Always a pleasure." He chuckled softly to himself as he watched them round the corner. He was just about to order a second cup of coffee, when he observed Kira coming from the direction of the Security Office. Curiouser, and curiouser, thought Marshall as she turned and came to join him.

"May I," asked Kira indicating the chair just recently vacated by Bashir.

"Please do, colonel. It appears to be my day to entertain company. You just missed Doctor Bashir and Lt. Dax."

"What were they doing up this time of morning?"

"Concerned about your welfare, I gather. It appears they have noticed a certain strain in your relationship with our Odo since last week. Friends can be a trial can they not? Which is why I make it a policy not to cultivate any."

"You sound more like Odo than Odo does."

"I’ll take that as a compliment," said Marshall. "Not that I am not flattered, mind you, but I assume you did not come down here at this time of day just to pass pleasantries?"

"No. I did not. I wanted to know how your investigation is going."

"We have made some progress, but we still do not know a great deal more than we did this time last week."

"What have you learned?"

"Apparently the only link between the four victims is that they lived alone and that they all held their current positions since the end of the War."

"What about the War? Could there be some link there?"

"We’ve gone through the service records of the Bolian and the Grazertie and found no connection. The Romulan and Kressari are a little more difficult to track, but we are working on it."

"And the Nausicaan? Any connections between him and the four missing persons?"

"Not that we can find. The Nausicaan’s history is fairly typical. Small time thief, allegations of smuggling, but no convictions, suggestions of an involvement with the Orion Syndicate, but nothing to place him anywhere near our four missing persons. Not to mention, there was nothing among his possessions that in any way suggested he possessed the technology to simply make someone disappear."

Kira sat silently as she digested the information. "Perhaps," she said. "The Nausicaan isn’t involved in any way. Maybe this is another matter all together."

"Perhaps," agreed Marshall. "However, we cannot dismiss the fact that the fight was deliberate. Staging a fight in order to cover up a murder is not uncommon, and the use of poison to anoint the blade of the knife does indicate a degree of premeditation. Committing suicide once in custody does indicate a certain degree of guilt or perhaps the masking of a higher level of involvement."

"I suppose so. What have the other participants of the fight got to say for themselves? They are bound to know something about who or what is behind all this."

"Our motley little band is unusually silent on the subject. Given enough time, we might be able to pry some information from them, however without more evidence, all we can hold them for is public brawling which is generally punished by a fine and time served."

"I want them under surveillance from the moment they are released until they leave the station."

"We are of like mind on that issue, colonel. There is one other little matter that may or may not have to do with our present situation."

"And that is?"

"According to witnesses, a few days before his disappearance, a package was delivered to the Grazerite, the contents of which appear to have been a single piece of rectangular plastic with a red C embossed on it."

"A message of some sort?"

"Undoubtedly."

"What does it mean?"

"I was hoping you knew. Quite frankly the significance of the message is lost on me, but it appears to have upset the Grazerite quite a bit. We have been unable to determine if the other three received similar packages."

"There was nothing else on the card besides the C?"

"Not that our witnesses could tell, but they admit they did not get a good look at the card and it was not found among the Grazerite’s possessions."

"It looks as though we have more questions than answers."

"That, my dear colonel, is the story of my life."

"Shut up, Quirk," said Gus. "Or I’ll shoot you again and this time I won’t leave the settin on stun." He placed the dermal regenerator back in the med. kit. "Buck, hand me that tricorder will ya." Buck complied with the request, never taking his eyes off the injured Ferengi.

Quark, for the life of him, could not understand how he ended up on a purloined Jem’Hadar ship in the company of a human, two Vulcans who were unlike any Vulcans he had ever encountered before, and a walking, talking egg. "I suppose you are now going to enlighten me with the logic of the situation?"

"Nope. I’m not." Gus flipped the tricorder shut satisfied the bump on the head Quark suffered in his fall to the deck was not serious. He placed the instrument back in the med. kit. "I may be only one-thirty second Vulcan, but even I can see you’re screwed, Quark, that’s all there is to it."

"Excuse me?"

"One-thirty second Vulcan. The ears and the eyebrows just keep getting passed on from generation to generation…"

"That’s not what I mean."

"I know," said Gus with a slight smile. "But you were dyin to know and now that you do, maybe you’ll shut up about it." He stood and placed the med. kit back in it’s holder. "Look, here’s the situation, scans showed traces of an explosive in the wreckage of the Jersey Lilly. You wouldn’t know anythin about that now would you?"

"Of course not. I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but there is no way I would have ever agreed to accept passage on your ship if I knew it was going to be blow up, now would I?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. How heavily insured are you?"

"Good point," mused Quark. "But, no. No, you are not going to distract me that easily!"

"Like it or not, you’re stuck with us."

"Oh no I’m not. Let me speak to your captain. I demand you drop me off at the next planet. I will not stay on this ship another instant."

"I’d stay as far away from Jack as possible if I were you, or you’re likely to find yourself tossed out of the next airlock."

"But that’s ridiculous!" Quark sat up abruptly only to find the bald headed Vulcan called Buck had suddenly stepped forward threateningly. "Gus, it is Gus isn’t it? You can’t be serious. I have business to attend to. Important business for very important clients. I can’t stay here."

"You ain’t goin anywheres. You probably ain’t figured it out yet, but you were supposed to be on the Jersey Lilly. Well she ain’t in one piece any more and by all account you, and Jack and I shouldn’t be in one piece anymore neither. If it gets to be known that you ain’t dead, then it don’t take much to figure out that the rest of us ain’t dead. So you’re stuck with us for the time bein."

"For how long?"

"Until we figure out who would want us dead, or until we get back to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Great. Just great."

"Now, I’m a goin up to the bridge to see how Jack and Ognij are a gettin along. Buck here will keep you company. Buck, make sure our guest here don’t leave this room okay?"

Buck whistled in reply.

"You’re not going to leave me here with him!" complained Quark.

"You’ll be safe with Buck," said Gus. "As long as you don’t rile him that is. He can get pretty mean when riled."

"And what am I supposed to do?"

"I don’t suppose you know anything about programmin replicators?"

"A bit."

"Then you can keep yourself busy reprogrammin that one. It’s set to produce some kinda granola like stuff and unless you’re fond of nuts and berries it’s gonna be a long trip home."

Left alone, Quark looked at the door, looked at Buck who was staring at him as though he were the most fascinating creature in the galaxy, and finally he looked at the replicator. There had to be a way out of his present situation, if only he could find the key. His little business deal in the Gamma Quadrant was going to make him enough latinum to retire on. There was no way, he was going to let a slight set back like this ruin everything. Maybe the Yestovian would be more reasonable. He would just have to bide his time and wait for the right opportunity. With a sigh, he stood and approached the replicator only to find Buck blocking his path. "Down boy," said Quark. "You heard the man, he wants the replicator reprogrammed. Shoo."

"This must bring back memories, sir," said Marshall handing the PADD back to the lieutenant.

Odo nodded in reply. "Any sign of the stolen relics?"

"None so far," replied Marshall. "But it is a rather full cargo bay. This could take some time."

"I take it your source is reliable?"

"I have had no cause to doubt them before." He took one last look around. "Well, things seem to be in order here. I’d like to go over those last reports from Starfleet Intelligence, if you are in agreement?"

"Of course."

They turned to leave when Marshall spied something out of the corner of his eye. He paused to get a better look.

"Is there something wrong?" asked Odo.

"On the contrary, sir," said Marshall. "For the first time, we may have hit on the one thing to go right." He pointed to a row of containers lining the far end of the cargo bay. At the end of the row stood several large containers - each with a red C clearly marked on the outside.

"Lieutenant," said Marshall, motioning for the young officer to join them. "What containers are those?"

"Medical supplies, sir," he replied consulting his PADD. "They are scheduled to be loaded on the next transport to Cardassia."

"And who sent them?" asked Odo.

"According to the manifest, they are from something called the Centurion Corporation."

"Centurion Corporation?" said Marshall. "Never heard of them, have you, Lieutenant?"

"Not before I was stationed here, sir, but since I’ve been on DS Nine, I’ve seen a couple dozen containers just like these come through at least once a week. Always relief supplies and always headed for Cardassia."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Marshall. "Now what do you make of that, sir?"

"I think the Centurion Corporation bears a closer look."

"I believe we are in agreement."

"Sir," called a tall gangly Ensign rushing towards them. "Sir, we found the relics. If you’ll come this way?"

They followed the Ensign to a row of barrels at the far end of the cargo bay. One of the barrels had already been opened, the grain that had concealed the stolen property lay scattered around the floor. Marshall plunged his arm into the remaining grain retrieving a small statue. "Very good, Ensign. The Museum of Antiquities on Rygel IV will be happy to get these back. Very well, then. Confiscate the remaining grain shipment until it has been searched and bring the evidence to Security."

"Wait!" said Odo leaning closer to the container. "Do you hear that?"

"What?"

"A high frequency hum. Here." He indicated the open barrel.

Marshall ordered his staff to fall back, and with some effort, he tipped the container over on its side. There among the spilled grain and an assortment of relics lay what appeared to be a bomb.

His thoughts turned eventually to his present situation. His arrival on DeLok station. The promise of the purchase of a bigger and more powerful ship. His chance meeting with the stranger from the Alpha Quadrant. The subsequent destruction of the Jersey Lilly and her crew. His inability to abandon his human friends in their time of need. The changeling who did not know he was a changeling. These are strange times indeed, he thought. Yestos must be pleased, he toys with me.

He glanced at the chronometer. There was just enough time to go back to his ship to see how the changeling was doing with the cargo, then it would be time for prayers, and afterwards he would take Buck with him to meet a fellow trader who promised news about the humans. He smiled as he thought of Buck’s reaction on first entering the commercial district of TorQuros IV. His wide eyed wonder and childish delight as though seeing the world for the first time, which perhaps he was. It was a shame the changeling had not yet learned to master the spoken word. The ways of Yestos were strange indeed.

Ognij paid his bill and took his leave. He did not notice the two men following him until it was too late. Rough hands seized him and unceremoniously hauled him into a darkened storefront before he could call for help. A small hand torch sparked to life revealing the sharp features of a pair of Zunigians.

"Ognij," said Grgor. "We need to talk."

"I left him with Captain Vonda and Lieutenant Nog. They wanted to run a broader spectrum analysis just to be on the safe side," replied Marshall. "But based on what we know so far, if that bomb had gone off it would have vaporized everything and everyone in Security."

"You mean the cargo bay."

"I am afraid not, colonel. If the person who set the timer knows as much about Station procedures as I suspect they do, the bomb would not have gone off until the barrels and their contents had been transferred to Security for safekeeping."

"Are you saying you suspect someone on the Station is involved?"

"Not necessarily. Starfleet procedures don’t vary that much from station to station. Spend enough time on one station and you know the drill for just about any other. I am convinced half the criminal element of the Alpha Quadrant are better versed in Starfleet protocol than most of her officers."

"No doubt you’re right. I don’t suppose there’s any way to trace the bomb back to the developer?"

"Standard military surplus, I am afraid. The black market has been flooded with them since the end of the War."

Kira sighed. Neither of them has supposed this was going to be easy, but she hadn’t anticipated the potential damage to the station. The sooner this was over with the better. "Has Tavak had any luck trying to track down means of transportation?"

"Sadly, no," replied Marshall. "Mr. Tavak assures me that there are twelve ships that could have possibly been used to get our suspect from one place to another within the time frame specified, but none of them have been anywhere near DS Nine within the last six weeks. That being the case, I’ve asked Tavak to monitor all transmissions from the station starting with the time the bomb was supposed to have gone off through the next fifty two hours. With any luck we might be able to find a lead that way."

"We need all the luck we can get. What about the Centurion Corporation?"

"Federation records indicate it is a perfectly legitimate organization. They have been in business for a number of years. The best description I can find is that they are a small think tank style enterprise. They use a portion of their profits to support charitable efforts such as Cardassian War Relief. The Corporation employs directly only a handful of employees and contracts the rest of their work out to other organizations."

"Just the kind of organization that might employ a bio-agricultural analyst to produce a new hybrid grain or a free trader to transport medical supplies?"

"My thoughts exactly, colonel."

He stood and began pacing his quarters. What could have possibly gone wrong? Everything. Or nothing. He preferred to believe it was nothing. Perhaps the explosion knocked out communications. Perhaps the explosion took the life of the agent as well. Now, that would be lucky and he could use a little luck about now.

The terminal issued a beep. Another message was coming through. He stepped quickly to the computer and accessed the message. The Cardassian face that appeared on the screen was the last face he had ever expected to see.

"I know we agreed never to contact each other, brother," said the Cardassian. "But that was before this." He held up his hand. Clasped between his fingers was a small rectangular piece of plastic with a red C embossed on one side.

He leaned a little further out of the air lock, looking both ways down the corridor. There were still some people moving about, but none were the one he sought. He gave a cautious whistle and listened for a reply. Receiving none, he took a few halting steps down the corridor and whistled again. Having stood there for several minutes and still no Ognij, he turned to go back only to find the corridor behind him had suddenly filled with people who were all talking and laughing and walking straight toward him. Not knowing what to do, he started to walk away from them as fast as possible, alternately whistling and growling at those who came too close, until he found himself being pushed out of a doorway and into the commercial sector of the station.

Spinning away from the rushing crowd, he pressed himself against an empty wall space next to a storefront. Fighting a sense of panic, he looked around him. More people than he had ever seen in his life were milling about talking, laughing, arguing, and wandering in all directions. He edged his way closer to the doorway that lead back to the air lock. Glancing down the corridor, he was dismayed to see even more people blocking his path back to the ship. Ducking his head, trying not to draw attention to himself, he whistled. There was still no answer, but much to his relief, no one seemed to have noticed him either. Drawing courage from this, he whistled louder and then louder when it became apparent he was practically invisible to these people.

Practically invisible. After awhile the shopkeeper emerged from his shop with a warning that Buck could not stand there all day if he were not going to purchase anything. Drawing himself up to his full height, Buck leaned toward the shopkeeper and growled at him, sending the shopkeeper scurrying back into his shop. At first puzzled, but then suddenly elated, Buck moved a little further away from the shop. He looked around him recognizing parts of the station from his earlier visit with Ognij. The thought occurred to him that if he were to go to those places he recognized, he might be able to locate his missing friend.

How long he wandered he really could not say. Throughout his wanderings, he has spied an occasional figure that looked like Ognij, but in each instance, when approached, the Yestovian would just look at him with a blank expression and move away. Driven almost to desperation, believing he would never find his friend again, Buck took shelter in the doorway of a storefront. He sat on the top step, buried his face in his hands and gave one last whistle. It was hopeless. He was abandoned in a world full of strangers. He had just made up his mind to return to the ship, when he was seized from behind and pulled backwards into the shop.

"Big he is," muttered Sutsef. "Ton weighs him."

"Yestos with infinite variety does he love," Yelood reminded them. "Go let him now."

Buck struggled to his feet, growling fiercely at the small group of Yestovians gathered around him.

"Confused he is," warned Yelood. "Room give him to bearing get."

The Yestovians moved back a bit, their hands held before them with palms forward to show they had no weapons. The infidel looked around him as though seeking a face he recognized. Yelood took a cautious step forward.

"Seek you not Ognij?" he asked. "Buck you are, friend yes to Ognij?"

The infidel nodded in reply.

"Know we, Yestos, dumb has made you, wisdom infinite," volunteered Sutsef. "Sent you to this temple thusly, here perform you Yestos will."

"Comprehends you not," said Salgudo. "Most infinite futility. Hands of devil will stay Ognij."

"Doubt you not the ways of Yestos," admonished Sutsef.

"Time we not for discussions theological," warned Yelood, "Of essence most critical." He gestured for Buck to follow him. An alter stood in the back of the temple and behind the alter was a small table. Yelood pointed to a copy of the station floor plans that lay there. "Situation this," he said to Buck. "Return to was Ognij when by devils taken. Sutsef spied him thusly."

Sutsef nodded in agreement. "Devils known to us most dangerous. Fearful forfeit life of Ognij."

"Yestos forbids us life be taken, even infidel, though known this to happen," said Yelood with a sad shake of his head. "But Sabbath even harm us not another."

"Dilemma see us," agreed Sutsef. "Do we can nothing end of Sabbath til."

"Too late fear we for Ognij," said Salgudo. "Unless sin upon our head be it, for one I care not. Greater sin to which allowing Ognij to end or chance death of infidel in attempt I believe Yestos to forgive."

"Time another," said Yelood. "Buck believe us you by Yestos sent rescue you must. Place of capture near by. Ventilation duct traverse you must to lie in wait. Signal once received, take you Ognij from here away path we clear. Understand you?"

Buck nodded his reply although fear showed clearly on his face. With a nod from Yelood, Salgudo and Sutsef began to remove the grid from the ventilation duct. Yelood gently took Buck by the arm. "Afraid you are know I," he said softly. "Difficult to understand are the ways of Yestos. Task not given to you unless know you with his help to perform most wondrous of feats. Help we as we may. Prayers say for you we will. Now go you."

The three Yestovians assisted Buck into the ventilation shaft and replaced the grill behind him. "Remember thusly," said Salgudo. "Signal received must you wait."

Alone and in the darkness of the ventilation duct, Buck found himself shivering. The events of the last few hours had left his head swimming and now he had a moment to think about his situation, he was overcome with fear. Escape was foremost in his mind. He glanced back toward the shop, but the shop was dark, it’s occupants having either left or moved on to another room. He looked ahead and as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he became aware of a faint glow in the distance. He slowly began to crawl in the direction of the light, desperately wishing he were elsewhere. Eventually, he became aware of voices and drew courage from the prospect of finding his friend. Hadn’t the others told him that Ognij was to be found down here somewhere? The voices became more distinct as he drew near the light, but neither voice was the voice of his friend. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, and what he saw when his vision cleared made him start to shiver all over again.

"No," replied Grgor pausing to wipe the clear sticky blood of the Yestovian from his hands. "He’ll crack soon enough. Won’t you, Ognij?"

Ognij lifted his head to stare at his tormentors. Yestos, in his mercy, had stopped Ognij from feeling pain not long after the torture had begun. "Told you before have I. Know I nothing of the ship."

"Ah, but we believe you do," said Grgor. "Our sources on DeLok station tell us you were in the process of negotiating a deal to purchase an abandoned Jem-Hadar ship. Are you telling us our sources lied?"

"Know I not."

"Ungrateful little yolk isn’t he?" said Zit. "We ask for his help in recovering property that rightly belongs to the Boss and this is how he repays us."

"You see, Ognij," said Grgor lifting the Yestovians head. "The Boss has big plans for the future. Plans that will benefit all of us, not just his organization, but he needs your cooperation, and he needs that ship. You do want to cooperate don’t you?"

"What was that?" asked Zit suddenly standing up. It sounded to them as though someone was knocking on the door to the empty shop.

"Well don’t just stand there," said Grgor. "Go run them off."

"Why is it I get all the crap jobs," muttered Zit beneath his breath. He left the back room and looked toward the door of the shop. There apparently was no one around. Cursing under his breath, he turned to go back when he heard the pounding again. He turned just in time to see a shadow move across the edge of the doorway. "Damn kids," he said crossing to the door, prepared to throw it open and take his frustrations out on who ever was unlucky enough to be caught. He quickly punched in the code to release the door and was blinded as an energy beam shot out of the lock and hit him squarely in the chest.

"What the hell?" asked Grgor. "Can’t trust that idiot to do anything right. Remember this Oggie, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself." He punctuated the last sentence with open handed slaps to the top of the Yestovians head. He turned to leave, pausing in the doorway he smiled at Ognij, wagging a finger at him playfully as he spoke. "Now you don’t go anywhere, I’m not done with you yet."

Left blissfully alone Ognij felt himself sinking slowly into unconsciousness. He prayed death would be swift. He became only vaguely aware of a presence near him, of hands loosening his bonds and helping him to his feet. His strength failed him and he sank to the floor. As if in a dream, he heard a low whistle and opened his eyes to see the face of the changeling hovering over him. "Buck," he said. "Go you must, find temple must you. Shelter there monks will provide. Message send you to Yak. Find you a way to warn him Rusawa looks for ship and those her within. Worry not for me. Lies my fate in Yestos’ hands." As he slipped into unconsciousness he was faintly astonished to hear the changeling speak for the first time.

"Ru Sa Wa," said Buck looking at the still form on the floor before him.

"Rusawa is correct. Now here’s a pretty little scene," said a voice in the doorway. Buck looked up to find Grgor standing there a smile far from pleasant on his lips. "I haven’t seen you before."

Buck stood, but refused to budge from the side of his fallen companion. We watched as Grgor circled around him.

"Yes," said Grgor. "I would have remembered you if I’d seen you before. Their just aren’t that many of your kind in this part of the universe. I can’t help but wonder how you managed to escape the same fate as the rest of Jack’s little crew. And if you managed to escape, how many of the others escaped with you?"

"Ru Sa Wa," repeated Buck watching the Zunigian closely.

"Yes, yes. Rusawa. You know it’s too bad your entire crew had to be sacrificed just to kill that stinking little Ferengi, but I assure you it was nothing personal. Now why don’t we sit down, like friends and discuss this little matter of the Jem-Hadar ship."

Buck growled in reply.

"Ah, I see you’re another one that will have to be persuaded to talk," mused Grgor pulling a large and ugly looking knife from his boot. "Pity. Although, let’s look on the bright side, shall we? I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing one of your kind bleed. What color is your blood then my pretty?" He lunged forward but Buck sidestepped the blade easily.

The Zunigian made a small snort of approval at the fluid movements of his opponent. A small part of Buck’s mind recognized that he was no longer afraid. Ever since he had heard the name of Rusawa and seen the large Zunigian, it was as though he had become possessed by some force beyond him. Without conscious effort, his body knew how to respond to the attack, even though his mind remained somewhat detached. He was haunted by a vague recollection of a conversation he had once had regarding the Zunigia, of something he had been ordered to do, but the thought faded as soon as it was realized.

Instinct drove him forward now as Grgor lunged again, the gleaming blade of the knife passing close to Buck’s chest. Using Grgor’s forward momentum against him, Buck took a firm hold of the Zunigian’s knife arm and gave it a twist, but Grgor refused to yield, using his own considerable weight to drive both of them to the deck. Buck managed to get to his feet before Grgor, but the Zunigian was faster with his weapon, and Buck found himself falling backwards having stumbled over Ognij in a wild attempt to avoid the flashing blade.

"You’re fast," said Grgor as he struggled to his knees. "I’ll give you that. You know, given the right time and place, I would have enjoyed his little dance quite a lot. Unfortunately, we’re running out of time. So the question is, are you fast enough to save the life of your friend?" To Buck’s dismay, the Zunigian raised the knife, point down and prepared to plunge it into the unconscious Ognij. With a roar, Buck flung himself forward, sweeping the Zunigian away from Ognij, only slightly aware of the knife blade piercing his skin. They landed in a heap on the far side of the room. Buck regaining his balance first, grabbed the startled Grgor, hauled him up by his lapels and threw him against the wall.

Sliding down the wall until he found himself crouched in a sitting position, it occurred to Grgor, for the first time, he might be in danger of losing this fight. He waited until Buck reached for him again and then came up from his crouched position, knife at the ready and plunged it to the hilt into Buck’s chest. With a cry of triumph, he twisted the blade and then pulled it free.

"Now let’s see the color of your blood," said Grgor holding the blade up to the light, but the blade was clean. He looked closely at the wound on Buck’s chest. To his astonishment the would glowed amber for an instant, then appeared to ripple, and was gone. "By the gods," whispered Grgor backing away from Buck as quickly as he could. "You! You’re a …" was all he managed to say before his head snapped back and he slumped to the deck.

"Yestos forgive," said Salgudo dropping a length of pipe to the floor. "Come. Come, no time."

"Yestos favors you greatly," said Yelood patting him on the shoulder. "Says the physician thusly Ognij will live, but rest he must. Quickly must you flee as by the will of Yestos the devils yet still live. Supposing we are correct, understand you not how to machinery operate properly know?"

Buck nodded.

"Thought we so. Free of the station will Salguod take you. Once clear program him course the ship must take. Beam him back thusly to us." Yelood clapped his hand loudly and motioned for the others to depart. "Great service to our community done you today," he said clasping Buck’s hand. "May Yestos closely watch in all endeavors your life."

She whispered his name in a voice still heavy with sleep. He moved his face closer to hers, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to her own. He spoke again, but this time with a touch of urgency in his voice. She still could not make out his words.

Rising up to lean on her elbow she looked into the sharply angled features of her lover. Placing her hand on his cheek, she turned his face towards her and whispered soft words of endearment.

He looked at her with eyes full of longing and said most clearly, "Beep."

"What?" She leaned away from him in alarm.

He leaned towards her. "Marshall to Kira," he said with a note of urgency. "Colonel? Are you with us?"

Kira opened her eyes to find herself clutching a pillow to her chest as though her life depended upon it. "Damn," she said flinging the pillow from her. "Damn, damn, damn."

She reached for her comm. badge still cursing under her breath as she activated the link. "Kira here."

"Forgive me for disturbing your rest," said Marshall. "But I’ve just received a report from Starfleet Intelligence. It appears there has been another disappearance."

"Where?"

"Cardassia Prime. Requesting permission to take a runabout, I’d like to get there before the trail gets any colder."

"Understood. Will you be traveling alone?"

"Under the circumstances, I thought it would be best if Mr. Odo stayed here. Do you not agree?"

"Agreed. Good luck."

"Thank you, colonel. I shall report in as soon as I learn anything. Marshall out"

Kira looked around her empty bedroom and decided it was too much trouble retrieving the pillow from where she had thrown it. With a sigh, she pulled the sheets over her head and tried to go back to sleep.

"Way I figure it, Jack. If we stay close to the border, we might be able to make good time. It’s just a matter of stayin outta the way until we get close enough to the Idran System and then we can make a clean run to the wormhole. What do ya think?"

"I think Ognij is taking his own sweet time getting those supplies on TorQuros IV."

"It’s a busy station. Hell, it would take a fair piece of time just to get the supplies, but you wanted him to ask a lot of durn fool questions in the process."

Jack made no effort to reply and that worried Gus. If Jack did not have the inclination to argue, it meant Jack was making plans. Plans he clearly had no intention of discussing with his oldest friend and partner. In Gus’ experience, that generally meant Jack was getting ready to do something either foolish, or dangerous, or both.

"I’ll tell you what I think," volunteered Quark. "I think staying close to the border will only make a long journey even longer. Now, if you would only allow me access to your communications system, I can get you passage through the Dominion Space."

"I suppose you’re goin to tell us you have friends in the Dominion?" asked Gus.

"As a matter of fact I do. As a matter of fact, one of my dearest friends is a Founder (although he’d rather die than admit it) and if we can come to a suitable arrangement about my transport back to the Zunigian Territories, I would be more than happy to arrange for you to get back to the Alpha Quadrant. Minus a slight fee, of course."

Gus dropped the stylus on the console and turned to face Quark. "Let me get this straight. Your brother is the Grand Nagus, what ever the hell that is. You have powerful friends in the Zunigian Territories. And, now you tell us your best friend is a Founder. Damn Quirn, just what the hell are you when you are at home?"

"I’m a businessman, and my name is Quark!"

"Yeah right. Attila the Hun probably thought of himself as a businessman. What kind of business?"

Quark brushed down the front of this jacket. "I’m in the entertainment industry," he said with pride.

"A pimp, eh? I should have known."

"I am not a pimp! I’ll have you know I run a very respectable bar."

"So what’s a highly respectable bartender doing in the Zunigian Territories anyway?" asked Jack. Gus turned back to his charts, but never allowed his gaze to stray form his friend, wondering what particular rabbit Jack intended to chase with his line of questioning.

Quark, totally unaware of the subtle shift in the conversational dynamic, started to warm to his theme. Perhaps these two were not ignorant in the ways of commerce after all, he thought. "The bar is only one of my business ventures. I run a very lucrative sideline in brokering deals."

"What kind of deals?"

"Oh, say you have something you want to sell. Someone else is looking to buy. I arrange for the two of you to meet."

"And you get paid, of course."

"I do charge a slight commission, for my expertise."

"Sound like a pimp to me," muttered Gus.

Quark’s reply was cut off by the proximity alert suddenly coming to life. "That’s probably Ognij now," said Gus. "But why didn’t he hail us afore now?"

Jack quickly picked up the navigational headset and held it before his eyes. "It’s them all right. Just picking them up on sensors. But it looks like something’s wrong - they’re just floating out there. It looks as though their engines are powered down. Hail them, Gus."

"No response. Lilly," called out Gus. "Scan the Yestovian vessel off our port bow for life signs."

"Scan complete. There are two life signs. One Yestovian and one undetermined."

"Damn," said Jack. "Lilly, set intercept course. Get a tractor lock on them Gus and as soon as we are in range, beam those two aboard."

The three of them clustered around as the swirl of light resolved itself into one injured Yestovian and a puddle of amber liquid. Jack and Gus leaned forward to assist Ognij to his feet, Quark realizing his luck had changed just for an instant, quickly removed Jack’s disruptor from its holster.

"Okay, gentlemen," he said stepping back and leveling the weapon at the group clustered around the transporter pad. "I may not be the smartest Ferengi on record, but I know from personal experience that," he indicated the pool of amber liquid, "is a changeling. Possibly a Founder. And if he’s a Founder, there’s a good chance the rest of you are as well. Now, someone is going to tell me exactly what the hell is going on around here, or…or, I’m just going to have to shoot someone."