Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sat, 31 Jan 2004 07:05:09 GMT  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Gabrielle Lawson inheildi@earthlink.net 
 

Title: Faith, Part III: Peace
Author: Gabrielle Lawson (inheildi@earthlink.net)
Series: DS9
Part: NEW 1/17
Rating: [PG-13]
Codes:

(See part 0/ for disclaimer, author's notes, acknowledgements, etc.)


Chapter Eleven

      Julian Bashir turned back toward the door when he heard Ezri's shout. 
Part of him wanted to stay--the part that still held on to friendship 
and feared what would happen now that he didn't have Starfleet to 
protect him.  The other part, though, reminded him that Starfleet hadn't 
been able to protect him thus far and that friendship could be betrayed. 
  The door rolled shut before him, and he watched Ezri's concerned face 
as the shuttle moved away.

      The shuttle went slowly--one-quarter impulse--until it cleared the 
station.  He watched the station come into full view and then begin to 
diminish.  He thought for a moment to burn it into his memory.  Then he 
abruptly turned away.  It was already there.  He'd memorized every deck 
and viewport in the cave.

      It was an early shuttle and therefore not full.  Bashir went to his 
cabin and found the other two bunks there empty.  So much the better. 
He didn't want company.  He wanted to disappear.

      He set his small bag down on the foot of the lowest bunk and lay down. 
  He closed his eyes and tried to push his fears aside.  They would come 
for him.  He knew that.  He didn't care anymore.  Or he didn't want to. 
  It wasn't that he'd let them win, let them turn him into someone like 
them.  It was just that he was tired of fighting, tired of hiding, tired 
of breathing altogether.  So he would let them come, then he would 
refuse to do what they wanted.  Then he would disappear.  This time for 
good.




      "How could you let him go, Benjamin?" Dax accused as soon as she'd left 
the airlock, and Sisko was grateful now for the few seconds reprieve 
he'd had while she stood staring at the departing shuttle.  He wasn't 
sure what had just happened with Bashir, but he knew he wasn't ready for 
this.

      The others, Kira and O'Brien, had seemed just as shocked and confused, 
but now that Dax had broken the silence, they came to life again.  "What 
just happened?" Kira asked, stepping closer to him.

      O'Brien finally stepped into the room, though he still looked dazed. 
"He didn't," O'Brien stammered, as the door closed behind him.  "He 
wouldn't."

      Sisko rather hoped that was an answer to Dax and not just a comment on 
Bashir.  He stayed silent for a few seconds, wondering if the Chief 
would say more.  When he didn't, Sisko turned back to Dax.  He rubbed 
his eyes as he spoke. "I couldn't stop him, Counselor.  He resigned."

      "You didn't have to accept it," Kira argued, but she wasn't angry yet. 
When she was angry, a fire blazed in her eyes.  Maybe it was too early 
in the morning for that.  Maybe she was still trying to understand what 
she'd just seen and heard.  "We don't have a replacement CMO.  You could 
have made him stay that long at least."

      Sisko face began to heat up.  He hadn't thought of that.  He had tried 
to convince Bashir to stay.  He hadn't thought of coercion.  "I still 
haven't accepted it.  I barely had a chance to read it.  He didn't give 
me any time.   He was going to leave without saying anything.  I 
couldn't force him to stay."

      "Yes, you could," Dax said, and now she seemed so much taller and 
stronger than Ezri's lithe form.  She stood on his left, while Kira was 
on his right.  The Chief was closing in on them from the front.  "By my 
recommendation," she continued.  "I relieved him of duty.  He wasn't 
competent to make a decision like that."

      "Wasn't he?" Sisko threw back.   He didn't like her tone.  This had 
become an interrogation, and he didn't like how it felt.  He was still 
captain, still their commanding officer.  "You let him practice medicine 
until yesterday.  Counselor Troi found him competent."

      "It's more complicated than that," she replied, glaring at him. 
Apparently, she was not overly interested in rank this morning.  "He was 
hiding something, something about you, and I think you're hiding it, 
too.  If I hadn't heard you try to talk him into staying, I would have 
suspected you wanted him to leave."

      "What?" O'Brien asked, clenching something in his fist.  But he wasn't 
asking Dax.  "Why would you want him to leave?"

      "You're right, Old Man," Sisko barked, ignoring the Chief and letting 
his disappointment and frustration take over his temper.  "It *is* more 
complicated than that."  He turned and started for the door, brushing 
past Kira and trying hard not to see that fire in her eyes.

      "Then talk to me!" Dax demanded, catching up to him.  "He wouldn't, and 
I couldn't help him because of that."  She calmed a bit, placing a hand 
on his arm, and there was a hint of fear in her voice.  "We can't let 
him go.  It's not safe for him out there, Benjamin."

      "It wasn't safe for him here," Sisko argued, though he wasn't sure why 
he did.  He agreed with her, after all.  His voice was softer now.  He 
stopped at the door and faced her.  "We couldn't keep him safe."

      O'Brien stepped up, eyed the captain with grim determination.  "We 
could do a lot better than a transport shuttle.  But he knew that.  He 
wants them to take him.  And if you've got something to do with that, 
captain or no captain, I want to know why."

      Sisko found he didn't much care for rank this morning either.  Some 
things just managed to override protocol on occasion, such as concern 
for a friend.  But now Sisko felt his disappointment in Bashir melting 
into fear.  Bashir had turned?  He was willfully giving himself to 
Section 31?  That was just wrong, more wrong than the fact of Section 
31's existence in the Federation.  "Why?" he heard himself ask.  "Why 
would he join them?"

      "He doesn't want to join them, " O'Brien replied, still angry. But he 
unclenched his fist and showed Sisko the comm badge--Bashir's, it would 
seem--he held.  His face was pale, not red as Sisko would have thought. 
  "He wants to defy them.  He wants to die."

      Sisko's breath froze in his chest.  He'd had no idea Bashir had sunk so 
far, but now he didn't need O'Brien to explain further to realize that 
it was true.  Bashir's actions, and his words, made more sense now.

      Kira apparently didn't agree, though.  She stepped around the Chief and 
took the badge from his hand. "What?" she asked him.  "Why would you 
think that?"

      "Later, Colonel," Sisko ordered, feeling his rank again.  He was sure 
they were already running out of time.  "Right now we need to get that 
shuttle back."




      Commander Riker rubbed his chin as he yawned and then sat down to check 
the logs.

      "Goodnight, sir," Simmons offered before heading to the back.

      "Get some rest," Riker ordered with a light smile.  "We'll be entering 
the Faeros system in three hours."

      Simmons grinned.  "I'll be sure to keep my boots on."

      With that he was gone, leaving only Riker and Dayton at ops and helm. 
The logs, Riker noted, were precisely in order.  He'd have to remember 
that.  Simmons had an evaluation coming up next month.

      The runabout suddenly lurched to starboard.  The inertial dampers 
compensated, but not before Riker heard four distinct thumps from the 
back.  Riker looked at the woman beside him.  She didn't bother looking 
back, but kept her eyes on the console in front of her.

      "I hope you have a good reason for changing course, Lieutenant," Riker 
barked as he put away the logs.

      "I do, sir," she replied, still not looking up.

      Riker waited a moment for her to share the reason.  He didn't know her 
well.  Admiral Necheyev had insisted she be a part of this mission.  He 
checked sensors but could not detect any other ships, enemy or 
otherwise, in range.  And then, he wondered why none of the four in the 
back had come forward to complain about being dumped from their bunks.

      Riker stood and leaned over Dayton's console to see just where she was 
taking them.  His eyes widened when he saw the heading, and he spun 
Dayton around in her chair.  She finally looked up at him.

      "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

      "Furthering our mission," she replied, and Riker realized she hadn't 
bothered to say "sir."

      Riker's hand fell to the phaser at his side.  "What mission would that
be?"

      Dayton didn't appear intimidated in any way.  "The mission to find the 
illustrious Dr. Pfenner, of course," she said.  "And, really, Commander, 
the weapon is pointless.  If you'll have a seat, I'll be happy to explain."

      Riker's felt the heat rise in his face.  But he sat.  She might have 
been a changeling, but she could have attacked him at any time, 
especially after such an obvious course change.  She couldn't expect to 
stay hidden.  But there was another possible reason for her sudden 
insubordination.  "What have you done to the others?" he asked.

      "Sleeping," she answered with a smile, "just as they should be.  The 
effect should wear off by the time you reach your destination."

      "I thought this was *our* mission."

      "You got me there," she admitted, and her smile widened a bit, 
crinkling the skin around her eyes.  Then it was gone and she was all 
business.  "We *do* have the same goal, that being Dr. Pfenner, but 
we'll be achieving that goal in different ways."

      "What does Section 31 want with Pfenner?" Riker asked, taking the risk 
that he had guessed wrong.

      "It's what we do," she answered, confirming his suspicions.  She cocked 
her head and a bit of her hair fell across her forehead.  She pushed it 
back.  "We protect the Federation from its enemies, including those who 
happen to be its citizens."

      Riker nodded, understanding what she meant by that.  "What proof do you 
have that Pfenner is a traitor?"

      "We don't," she replied, turning again to the console behind her.  "But 
that is why we're helping you to find him."  With her head bowed like 
that, the back of her neck was fully exposed beneath her short-cropped 
hair.  Ordinarily, Riker found that part of a woman's anatomy alluring. 
Now he just wanted to throttle her.

      He ignored that impulse.  "Helping?"  He was getting tired of asking 
questions, but she left him with far too many to be ignored.  "How is 
commandeering my runabout, drugging my crew, and putting us on a direct 
course to the D'Nexi Lines considered helping?"

      "Because you won't find Pfenner in the Faeros system, despite the 
information Starfleet Intelligence provided."  She ran her hands over 
the console once more.  "Well, my part here is nearly done.  Don't 
bother trying to change course.  You won't find Pfenner in any other 
direction.  You could disable the runabout, but that would leave you 
drifting in hostile territory.  Not a wise option.  Calling for help 
would likewise delay your mission, and I think you know how vital it is 
that we find the good doctor.  We cannot allow the Dominion to perfect 
K-Layer Subspace Concealment."

      At least on that point, Riker could agree.  Once DS Nine had determined 
the nature of the Dominion's experiments, Riker had campaigned hard to 
get a mission to find Pfenner or destroy his work.  He had volunteered 
for this one almost before Necheyev had had a chance to finish her first 
sentence in ordering it.  He just didn't like being used this way.  He 
found himself thinking about Bashir and wondering if this was the sort 
of situation Section 31 had tried to put him in.

      "What's your part?" he asked her as she stood and straightened her 
uniform.  She'd said she was nearly done and it was clear she was 
planning to leave.  "You obviously have superior resources.  Why do you 
need us to get Pfenner?"

      The corners of her mouth tipped up slightly as she looked down at him. 
  "You?  We only need you because he would never go with us."

      "Who? Pfenner?"

      Her smile increased again, reaching all the way to her eyes.  She 
touched her right arm with her left and disappeared in a shimmer.  Riker 
hadn't seen any device on her sleeve and was still trying to figure out 
how she'd transported with full shields from a runabout at warp when he 
heard the soft whir of the transporter again.  Then he knew she hadn't 
meant Pfenner at all.




      "Good morning, Admiral."

      Ross spun around, nearly dropping his breakfast.  Then he saw the owner 
of the voice.  "Sloan."

      Sloan was sitting on the couch, leaning back with one leg crossed over 
the other.  "Sleeping in?"

      Ross sat down at the table, deciding he did not want to give Sloan the 
satisfaction of disturbing his meal.  "A rare luxury in this war."

      Sloan seemed to accept that.  "I have to congratulate your people on 
cracking the case," he said, offering a bright smile.  "I would have 
congratulated Captain Sisko personally, but I don't think he'd be happy 
to see me."

      "And you think I am?" Ross retorted, taking a bite of his eggs. 
"Bashir was right.  You are slipping."

      Sloan raised his hand to his chest in mock sincerity. "You wound me." 
His hand lowered back onto his leg, and he dropped the faux-sincere 
tone.  "We have business to discuss."

      Ross took a long sip of his coffee in an attempt to settle himself.  "I 
finished my business with you on Romulus," he finally said.

      Sloan put both feet on the floor and leaned forward.  "Do you really 
think so, Admiral? You might want to ask Doctor Bashir."  He stood. 
"Oh, wait, you can't.  He isn't here."

      *Not again,* Ross thought.  He set down his fork and turned to face 
Sloan.  "What do you mean he isn't here?  What have you done with him?"

      Sloan raised his hand again, and this time his tone spoke of hurt. 
"Me? Oh, you mean us?"  He stepped closer to the table.  "Actually, 
Admiral, he resigned.  Took the early shuttle and left the station this 
morning."  He pulled out a chair and sat down, relaxing into the chair. 
  "But, if you want to get technical, he's no longer on that shuttle. 
And that would be why we have business to discuss.  Please, finish your 
breakfast."

      Ross set down his fork.  He didn't feel much like eating anymore.




      "I don't understand it myself," the shuttle captain said.  "You're sure 
he boarded?"

      "We saw him board the shuttle," Sisko replied, trying to hide his 
frustration, "just before you took off."

      "That doesn't make sense.  We haven't stopped and we've not seen any 
other ships yet.  We've searched every inch of this vessel.  He's not here."

      Sisko sighed.  He'd been afraid of that.  Section 31 hadn't wasted any 
time.  Bashir was gone and it wasn't likely they would find him.  It had 
taken six months last time and the only reason he'd been found was 
because he'd wanted to be found and had worked hard to make it possible. 
  This time, if O'Brien was right, Bashir didn't want to be rescued.  He 
wanted to die.

      "Thank you for looking, Captain," Sisko said.  "He had a bag with him 
when he left."

      "We did find a bag that no one else claimed."

      "Could you please send it back to us?"

      "Of course," the captain agreed. "I don't know how he left this ship, 
but I hope you find him, Captain.  Good luck."

      "Thank you.  Safe journey."

      The line closed and Sisko felt the darkness the Prophet had warned him 
about pounding in his head.  He could guess at what this latest move was 
going to cost Bashir, but he wondered still how it would affect himself. 
  The Prophet had said he was lost in darkness, and Sisko could concede 
that part.  He realized that the only reason he could concede was 
because of his confrontation with Bashir.  There was a proverb somewhere 
to fit that:  There can be no darkness without light, no good without 
evil.  It takes one to show the existence of the other.  Bashir, 
darkened even as he was, had already been light to show where Sisko was 
dark.  What now, now that he was gone?




      The bunks were all taken by the original members of Riker's team. There 
were four bunks.  Two people were supposed to be on duty at all times. 
But now there were five who were asleep--or, rather, unconscious.  He'd 
found the other four on the floor in the rear compartment, obviously 
having fallen out of their bunks.  It was hard enough getting two of 
them back in the lower bunks, but he'd also had to lift the other two to 
the upper ones.  Which left no place for Bashir.

      And right now, as he watched the stars fly by outside the cockpit 
viewscreen, Bashir was the one he most wanted to wake up.  The doctor 
was transported in unconscious, and Riker had been forced to leave him 
lying there on the deck.  He was wearing civilian clothes, but a folded 
uniform had materialized at his side with a paper note pinned on top. 
"He'll need this," it said and nothing more.

      Riker had a lot of questions, especially since Bashir had shown up.  He 
discarded the note, since it didn't answer any of them, and placed the 
uniform under the doctor's head as a makeshift pillow.  Already this 
trip was longer than he'd planned.  Dayton had left more than two hours 
before, and according to their new heading they'd be nearing the D'Nexi 
Lines in five more.

      *Hell,* he thought.  *If I wanted to go to the D'Nexi Lines, I would 
have stayed on *Enterprise.*  The Klingons had been holding the Lines 
and the *Enterprise* had just received orders to join up with Admiral 
Dlouhy's group to help push the Dominion back there.  Necheyev's orders 
had superceded though, and so Riker and the runabout had diverted toward 
Faeros after a possible sighting Starfleet Intelligence had reported. 
But it was apparent now that Section 31 had different plans and better 
resources.  And he didn't have any other choices just now.  So Riker 
waited, alone in a defenseless runabout, heading towards this sector's 
most recent active front.




      Kira felt sick.  She, O'Brien, and Dax had talked in a tight huddle in 
Ops while trying to get the shuttle to turn back.  O'Brien had shared 
some of his conversation with Bashir the night before.  Dax still wanted 
to honor her patient-counselor confidentiality, but Kira could read in 
her face the confirmation of O'Brien's words.  Bashir was committing 
suicide.  It was a rather elloborate, drawn out way to go about it, but 
it was still suicide.  He was setting himself up to be killed by Section 
31.  But the details didn't matter to her so much as just the fact that 
he had given up.  That Julian Bashir should give up on life was a 
thought she had never expected, nor wanted, to think.  The only times he 
had done that before were in Auschwitz and under such circumstances as 
to make a death-wish understandable.  In one, he'd been faced with 
beating another prisoner to death.  He chose death for himself, but 
wasn't given the option.  In the second, he was faced with a relatively 
slow death in a gas chamber full of screaming, dying, crushing people. 
He took a breath, allowing the gas to enter his lungs and kill him 
quicker.  The choice was taken from him as he was saved at the last minute.

      This was different.  He was healthy; he was whole.  He'd been freed 
from a solitary existence in a dark cave and returned to his post and 
friends.  He was still faced with hard choices and difficult 
circumstances, but not enough, in her mind, to warrant a desire to die. 
  And if that were enough, it would be so for other people, not for 
Doctor Julian Bashir.  He was a bright spot on this gray station.  Too 
bright he'd seemed at first, and she had resented his presence.  Time, 
though, wore her resistance to him down, softened his edges, and allowed 
her to see the good in him.  His brightness became something she valued. 
  The war had darkened it but had not managed to put it out.  She had 
missed his light when the station was occupied, and even more when he 
was marooned.  She had so hoped to see that brightness again when he 
returned, but now that she knew, she realized it hadn't returned with 
him.  O'Brien was right.  And it made her stomach turn to wonder what 
could have killed his spirit.  Even more, it unsettled her to think the 
captain, the Emissary, knew and had known all this time.

      A small light blinked on her console.  It was time.  They had scheduled 
a meeting in the Ward Room to discuss Bashir.  She locked her console 
and called over her standby before joining Dax and O'Brien on the 
turbolift platform.  "Any luck?" she asked, hoping one of them would 
have an affirmative answer.

      O'Brien shook his head sadly.  "They took him," he said, dejected. "I'm 
sure of it."  The turbolift began to lower.

      "So soon?" Dax asked, sounding as young and naive as she looked.  "They 
were going to search the shuttle."

      "But the captain didn't come out to tell us he'd been found," O'Brien 
argued.  "They were done with their search.  If they had found him, he 
would have told us."

      Kira's stomach felt even less secure on the moving lift.  "Let's just 
wait to hear what he says," she offered, wanting to hold out hope, but 
too practical to really think O'Brien was wrong.

      They were the first to arrive in the Ward Room.  Odo came in and took a 
seat.   Sisko and Worf arrived together not long after.  Dax barely 
waited for the door to close behind the captain.  "What did they say? 
Did they find him?"

      Sisko shook his head slowly and sat down.  "They couldn't find a trace. 
  Except his bag.  They're going to send that back to us."

      Kira sat down next to Odo and felt his hand reaching for hers.  She 
took it and he squeezed just a bit, letting her know that he understood. 
  It helped.  "So what do we do now?"

      "We start talking," Dax said.  "We each have a piece of this puzzle, 
but none of us knows the full picture.  How did he come to this?"





-- 
--Gabrielle
I'd much rather be writing!

http://www.stormpages.com/gabrielle/trek/    The Edge of the Frontier
http://www.stormpages.com/gabrielle/doyle/   This Side of the Nether
Blog: http://www.gabriellewrites.blogspot.com

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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