Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: Thu, 15 Apr 2004 04:37:54 GMT In: alt.startrek.creative From: Gabrielle Lawson Title: Oswiecim Author: Gabrielle Lawson (inheildi@earthlink.net) Series: DS9 Part: REP 2/42 Rating: [PG-13] (Violence) Codes: Chapter One -- Continued Julian Bashir and the nurse stepped out of turbolift just as the ship went into warp. O'Brien arrived just after him with an accompanying security officer. No one went anywhere without a partner. The Founders were shapeshifters. And, while Odo hadn't mastered the ability to accurately impersonate a humanoid, the Founders had proven very adept at it. But in order to make it work, they had to take away the original person. They couldn't do that if someone was always watching. "It looks," Sisko began after a glance around the bridge, "like we could be out here awhile. How's the *Defiant,* Chief?" "Like she was just commissioned yesterday, Captain," O'Brien replied, taking his seat at the Engineering station. "We've got full power." "Shields?" Sisko asked. "One hundred percent." "Weapons?" There was a hard set to Sisko's face when he asked that question. Bashir felt it, too. They all did. Even just last year, he could say that he would never welcome war. None of them could. Not even Kira. But since the threat had been brought to them, they would fight, if that was what was it took to defend their lives, their freedom, and their homes. It didn't matter that it was Earth and not everyone was from Earth. They knew that if the Founders succeeded in capturing one planet, they'd go on to another and another. They had already proven that. Everything the Federation had worked and fought for--peace, cooperation, freedom, and partnership among so many of the worlds in the quadrant of the galaxy--was in danger. "We're fully stocked on torpedoes, photon *and* quantum. And phasers are online as well," O'Brien answered evenly. "According to the blood screenings, there are no shapeshifters among the crew." Sisko looked to Bashir for confirmation. Bashir nodded and Sisko continued, "Security is combing the ship as well with phasers. If there's one here, we should find him." He turned to the helm. "How are we doing on your end, Old Man?" "I've still got them, Benjamin." Dax's eyes flitted back and forth from her console to the main viewer. The stars out there shot past the ship at such speeds that they were no longer distinct points in space but long streaks of light. "They've changed course twice already, but they're still heading deep into Federation space." "Earth?" Dax turned back to look at him. "I think so, Benjamin." "What we have to decide now is what we're going to do when we catch them." Sisko steepled his fingers in thought. "We destroy them." That was Worf. Sisko didn't agree or disagree. He just sat there thinking for a moment. Normally, Bashir would protest immediately. Starfleet personnel did not just decide to destroy another ship. Firing weapons was supposed to be the last choice. But that was before the war. And this time, he really felt at a loss. The Founders, if it was really them--and there was no reason to doubt that it was--wouldn't just be talked out of whatever they were up to. And whatever they were up to wasn't any good for the Federation. Besides, he'd had more than one occasion to dislike the Dominion. "I think," Sisko began again, "we need to be more specific." "We need to know why they're here," Bashir ventured. "They're here," Worf said impatiently, as if he were talking to a stupid child, "to take over the Alpha Quadrant." "With just one ship?" Sisko's voice was still calm. "The doctor's right. What are they here for?" "Maybe they're trying a more forthright approach," O'Brien suggested. "Scaring us into killing ourselves didn't seem to work." "Possible," Kira conceded, "but why the Klingon ship? Why not one of there own? And why wouldn't they try somewhere else? I mean, Earth is ready for something like this." "Not exactly," Dax answered. "This is still a cloaked vessel. Cloaks wouldn't be much good if everyone could still see you. Starfleet Command will be scanning every inch of space within range, but they still might miss this one. We could lose it." "Let's not," Sisko interjected. "If it is an outright attack, why is it only one ship? Where are the Jem'Hadar?" "It's got to be something deeper than that," Bashir thought out loud. He had a bad feeling about it, truth be told. He didn't think it was an attack or invasion. That Earth could deal with. One ship against Earth's defenses? They wouldn't have a chance. The Founders didn't seem to do things straight out, not unless they had a fleet of Jem'Hadar to back them up. The Founders were more secretive. They snuck in and showed up where you least expected it--if they showed up at all. "Well," Sisko turned back to the main viewscreen, "we've got a week before they reach Earth. That gives us awhile to figure it out." Julian Bashir sat at the main console in the cramped sickbay aboard the *Defiant.* Each blood sample had to be logged before they were destroyed. There wasn't much else to do with them. Forty-seven of those little vials just took up too much space, and they were hardly needed once the tests were over. But since the samples had been taken anyway, Bashir had decided to give them each a quick scan for known diseases. Two of them so far scanned positive for minor problems, anemia and low blood sugar. They could be easily treated. He set them aside and called for the crewmen to come in for a more thorough exam as soon as they had a moment. Every few seconds he'd check the reflection of his nurse in the console's display. He didn't want to take any chances until they were sure there were no shapeshifters on board the ship. It had been three hours since they left the station. The security teams were being thorough. "Attention all hands," Sisko's voice echoed through the ship. "All security teams have reported in. No intruders have been found aboard this vessel." Julian involuntarily breathed a sigh of relief. Something had been gnawing at his stomach since they left the station. He was sure now that it must have been the thought of carrying a shapeshifter away with them. *Better that than leaving one on the station,* he chided himself. There were fewer people to endanger aboard this ship, and none of them were civilians. And there was less area to search. It had taken many more hours in their drills aboard the station to actually sweep every inch of it with phaser bursts. But that knot in his stomach still hadn't gone away. "It's about time," Nurse Baines said aloud. "All that tends to make me paranoid. I mean, shapeshifters can be absolutely anything. Do we even know for sure that phasers work on them?" "Yes, they work," Bashir answered, placing another vial under the scanner. "Odo tested them out." She didn't seem convinced. "But what if we had to kill one? It would be hard to just hold one prisoner, you know. Has anyone ever killed one of them?" "I did." The scan was normal. Ensign Stehlikova appeared to be in perfect health. "*You* did?" Bashir turned to face his nurse and almost laughed at her expression. Her head was slightly bowed but she was looking up at him from under her eyebrows. All she needed were a pair of old spectacles sitting at the end of her nose. But really, it wasn't a laughing matter. "Don't you have a Hippocratic Oath to think about?" "Believe me, it was self defense." Bashir felt the heat building up in his face. "Odo was going to kill me anyway. There was an explosion, and the opportunity just presented itself." Now she was the one to nearly laugh. "Odo? If you killed Odo, who's in charge of the station?" "Not that Odo," Bashir said, the frustration was now becoming obvious. "Look, it was a mirror universe. Odo wasn't Security Chief there. He was an overseer, and the slaves were humans. It's a very different place." "Mirror universe?" she asked, still doubtful, but now she was patronizing a bit as well. "Are you making all this up to kill time?" "You can ask Major Kira, if you don't believe me. She was there, too." "Well, of *course,* she was," the nurse teased. "If Odo was there, she'd have to be. Was Captain Sisko there, too?" "No, I mean yes," Bashir answered, still just a bit flustered, though he realized she was just playing with him. "But that's not it at all. *Our* Major Kira was there, with me. *Their* Kira was worse than Odo." The door opened and the conversation was dropped. Lieutenant Tirn, stepped inside and stood at attention. "You wanted to see me, sir?" she snapped. "You can stand at ease," Bashir said, directing the young woman to a biobed. "Your blood sample shows that you're a bit anemic. It's nothing dangerous at this point but still something we should take care of." "And me, Doctor?" Bashir turned and saw another crewman waiting by the door. "Low blood sugar. Have a seat and I'll be right with you in a moment." Lieutenant Whaley heard the chirp beside her. Actually, she didn't so much hear it as sense its vibrations. After all she had no ears. Someone was at her door. Forming a mouth and the vocal cords necessary to answer in Whaley's voice, she lifted the device with a jelly-like appendage and spoke into it. "Who is it?" "It's me, Barker," came the reply, slightly muffled by the door itself. "I was wondering if you wanted something to eat. Sopok, Romero, Armand, and I were heading down to the mess for lunch." Solids. They had to put foreign objects into their bodies to sustain themselves. It was really rather revolting. "Well, that sounds great," she said, "but I already ate, and I'm trying to catch up on some reading. I have a friend who writes novels, and I promised her I'd read her latest." "Well, maybe we can get together later, then." He didn't sound too hopeful. *Perhaps because he thinks we are talking through a door,* she decided. He had no way of knowing that she was no where near her quarters. She wasn't even on that deck. But she didn't want him to become suspicious. "Maybe," she replied cheerfully. The device she held stopped pulsing so she knew he'd gone away. She pulled back the appendage and let the mouth drop back into her natural state. Now she could continue her work. One of the blood samples had him stumped. Dr. Julian Bashir had graduated second in his class and had proven himself to be not only a competent doctor, but an excellent one. It didn't hurt that his IQ had been enhanced at the age of six along with the rest of him. So, naturally, it bothered him when he couldn't quite catch what was wrong with the sample. It was dinner time and O'Brien and Dax were chatting about something. Bashir tried to pay attention but for some reason, that one sample kept springing back to his mind. It had belonged to a human female, Lieutenant Julie Whaley. And at first glance it scanned as normal, healthy blood. But it just wasn't as oxygen-rich as the others. It appeared to be a bit more congealed as well, by about point-three percent. Bringing up Lieutenant Whaley's medical records on the computer, he found that she was asthmatic. This might have accounted for the lesser amounts of oxygen. The congealing was a little more difficult. Of course, it was a negligible difference from the other samples and could have been a problem of not getting the vial to fit securely into the instrument before drawing the blood. It didn't seem to be anything to worry about. So he thought he'd solved it. And yet he couldn't get it off his mind. "Right, Julian?" "Huh? What?" Bashir stammered, lifting his eyes from his plate to see who had spoken. "I said," Dax began, a teasing gleam in her eye, "'Julian's ignoring us. Right, Julian?'" "Oh. I'm sorry." Now he felt terrible. He hadn't meant to ignore his friends. It appeared that he hadn't heard anything they'd said. "I didn't mean to. I was just thinking. . . ." "Don't worry about it, Julian." Chief O'Brien seemed to sense his friend's guilt. "It's not like we were discussing the fate of the universe. Well, actually we were." Jadzia ignored O'Brien's comment and directed her attention to Julian. "What were you thinking about that was so much more interesting than us?" Julian forgot his faux pas immediately at the prospect of sharing his dilemma. "I can't stop thinking about one of the samples we took this morning." "Samples?" O'Brien's eyebrows were raised and his mouth just slightly turned. "You aren't going to talk about blood at the dinner table, are you, Julian?" Julian glanced down at the Irishman's plate. "What does it matter? You're finished eating." Jadzia tried to reign them both back in to the subject at hand. "What about the samples, Julian?" "Well, I figured as long as I had them, I should run some tests. I found a few problems. Low blood sugar. That sort of thing. Nothing major. But there was one vial that just didn't seem right." "Anything wrong with mine, Doctor?" a deep voice floated its way down into the conversation. Julian looked up to see the dark face of the ship's commander. Worf stood just behind him. "No, Captain," he answered. "Your blood was quite healthy. Would you care to join us?" Sisko shook his head, but he was smiling. "Not if the topic of conversation is 'blood.' I'm afraid that just might ruin my appetite." "What's wrong with blood?" Worf asked, dropping down into the empty chair. "I'm with you, Captain." O'Brien stood up. "If you'll all excuse me." Jadzia just smiled and shook her head. "Well, I guess we know who the 'real' men--and women--are." "Watch it, Old Man," Sisko threw back from where he'd sat down. But it only made her laugh. "Good ears," Bashir commented. Dax took a deep breath and then turned to Bashir, her composure regained. "Now, Julian, what was it you were saying about the sample?" "Well, I'm not sure really. I mean it was just different. It had less oxygen than the others and had congealed just slightly. The medical history showed a minor case of asthma, so if the subject had had an attack prior to the screening, that might show up. And there are a lot of reasons for it to congeal. All it needs is just a little bit of exposure to air for the blood to begin to dry out." "So what's the problem?" "There isn't one," Bashir admitted. "But I just can't stop thinking that there should be." Whaley was annoyed. The doctor was fouling up her plans. But she was more annoyed at herself. She'd studied his psychographic profile, just as she studied the profiles of every member of the bridge crew. She should have known that the doctor would not just throw out the samples. He would study them, run tests, make sure that everyone was healthy. She should have known that. But she wouldn't have known if Novak hadn't told her that he'd been called to sickbay because of low blood sugar. Now she would likely fall behind schedule. Whaley waited for the nurse to leave the room and then silently poured herself to the floor. Once she was on the floor, she formed herself again into the guise of the human woman. All except for the feet. She kept them soft, not quite solid, so they'd make no sound when she walked across the room. The vials were all lined up in five rows on one counter. She found the information she needed on a PADD just beside them. Scanning the information quickly, she looked for Whaley's name to find which vial was hers. She knew she didn't have much time. That doctor took his job too seriously and would probably return to sickbay after dinner. "Can I help you?" Whaley jumped. Straining against her instincts, she forced herself to turn as a human would. The nurse was standing behind her, holding a box and a few instruments in her hands. Whaley's mind raced to find an excuse to cover her real intentions. "I, uh, I wasn't feeling very well," she said finally and put her hand to where her stomach would have been. "No one was here when I came in. I was just looking around." "I'm sorry," the nurse said. "I hadn't heard you call out. Why don't you have a seat there on the biobed." She indicated the bed with a tilt of her head as her hands were full. "I'll run a preliminary scan, and then we'll call the doctor." The nurse was walking toward her. She looked like she was going to set the box down on the counter. Whaley just smiled as if she hadn't understood. At least that's what she would have appeared to be doing on the side the nurse was facing. Behind her back, Whaley was melting. Something like a snake formed from her back and opened a drawer. Whaley's own body shielded her actions from the busy nurse. Inside the drawer was a hypospray and several different vials of drugs. There was a slight hesitation as the appendage tried to determine which one was appropriate. The nurse looked up and realized that Whaley was still standing beside her. Putting the last of the instruments away, she straightened and then reached an arm out to touch Whaley's shoulder. "Right this way." And then she froze. Whaley's eyes were cold and lifeless staring straight into the nurse's. In an instant they came to life again, and before the nurse could react, Whaley reached up with one hand to cup her mouth closed. The other held her by the neck so that she couldn't pull away. The nurse's eyes widened in terror, but she couldn't cry out. Her voice was muffled by the hand that covered her mouth. She clawed at the arms that held her and tried to kick her attacker. Whaley forced her body to become solid, more so than the human's were. The nurse's fingers met steel rather than flesh. Again the eyes of her attacker went blank as Whaley's focus returned to what was behind her. She had to have just the right thing. She couldn't kill the nurse as she'd done to the woman whose appearance she had taken on. The body was too big to destroy without leaving traces behind, and she couldn't risk being discovered just yet. Otherwise she wouldn't have bothered with coming to sickbay at all. Then she had it. Behind her, the appendage placed the vial into the end of the hypospray and pulled itself back into Lieutenant Whaley's body. Coming out again the other side, the appendage reformed from Whaley's stomach and reached out toward the struggling nurse's neck. The nurse, for her part, made things easier. She froze in utter terror. Whaley pressed the hypospray to her neck and let her sink to the floor. Standing over the unconscious nurse, Whaley cursed. "More complications," she said. She knelt down to be closer to the nurse's face. Whaley's own features began to slowly fade only to be replaced by those of the nurse on the floor. Getting the eyes right was easy. The shapeshifter had gotten quite a good view of them as she held the nurse. All there was left was a simple change in uniform color . . . and getting rid of the nurse. Doctor Bashir returned to sickbay and wondered why the lights had been turned down. But then, it was late and there were no patients to worry about. Bashir, himself, was only stopping by to check on things before he returned to his quarters for the night. He just couldn't seem to go to sleep without making a final check on the Infirmary, or in this case, the sickbay. Nurse Hausmann looked up and smiled as he entered. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" she asked. "Of course I should," Bashir replied coming to stand beside her. She was sitting at the diagnostics console reviewing the crew's medical records by the looks of it. She was newer than most of the *Defiant*'s crew, so Bashir was glad to see she was taking the opportunity to get to know the needs of the crew. Of course, there were some records she did not have clearance for, things that had to be cleared with him, but at the moment, this was not the case. "I just wanted to make sure that everything was fine here. Close up shop, so to speak." He turned and looked around the room. It was small, even for a ship this size. There were only three biobeds and all the diagnostic equipment was packed around the walls so tightly that there seemed little room for anything else. He had overhauled it a bit though, made it a little more functional, since their first meeting with the Dominion's Founders nearly three years before. Everything seemed to be in order. He stepped into the next room and gave everything there a careful scan as well. Nothing seemed amiss. Everything was put in its place. No work lying about. "Well," he said, returning to the main room, "you seem to have things well under control." "Yes, Doctor," the nurse said. She got out of the chair and walked with him to the door. *No work lying about.* It was a strange thought to have, but it stuck with him and he just couldn't step out the door. "Is there something wrong, Doctor?" Hausmann asked, her brow furrowed in concern. Bashir didn't answer. Instead he turned quickly back into the room and walked over to the counter where he'd been working before his shift ended. No work was lying about. The counter was empty. "Nurse?" "Yes, Doctor?" Hausmann had come to the counter, too, and was standing directly behind him. He looked up at the nurse. "Where are the blood samples that were taken this morning?" "I disposed of them like you asked," she answered evenly. Bashir stood up straighter and looked at the prim woman in front of him. He stood nearly a head taller than she did, and she had to look up to meet his gaze. "I asked you," he began firmly, "*not* to dispose of them. I asked you to not to touch them, to leave them as they were until tomorrow." Nurse Hausmann lowered her eyes to the ground. She looked stricken, and Bashir almost regretted his harshness. He pushed that thought away. He hadn't been harsh, besides, when it came to medicine, he wanted his orders carried out exactly. He never asked for anything unreasonable, and he tried never to be unkind. But he also relied on his staff. They were there to assist him, to be extensions of himself at times. But in the end, everything that happened in this room was his responsibility. He didn't take it lightly. "I'm sorry, Doctor," the nurse apologized. "I must have misunderstood. I thought you'd finished with them earlier this evening. They'd all been logged. I checked." "Yes, but I still had some research to do on one of them." Hausmann seemed sincerely sorry. "If I could get them back, I would. Maybe we could replicate another sample from the scans." She returned to the console and began to call up the information. "No, that won't help." Bashir stood with his arms crossed there in the middle of the room and tried to decide what to do. He tried to tell himself that it really wasn't important. There was really nothing too far out of the ordinary with Whaley's sample. "We could call that crewman in for another sample." "Why?" Bashir mumbled. "Excuse me?" "Why?" he asked a little louder. "She'll want to know why we're taking more of her blood. Shall I tell her that I had a funny feeling about her previous sample? It's hardly a good enough excuse." Hausmann opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Bashir sighed and then walked over to her. "Nurse Hausmann, there's really nothing to be done about this now. But I expect my orders to carried out, *especially* when I'm off duty. I haven't had any complaints yet about being a sadistic slave-monger, so I don't believe I'm out of order here. People's lives often depend on what happens in this room. If I can't trust my staff to carry out my orders, there could be a lot more serious consequences in the future. If you don't understand those orders, you should ask me to clarify them. If you didn't hear them properly, you should ask me to speak up. I'd rather repeat them ten times than have my work thrown out before I am done." "It won't happen again, Doctor." She still couldn't look up at him. "I give you my word." "Good." He'd have to leave it at that for now. It really wasn't a major problem this time, and it wouldn't be fair to be too harsh. The point was made. He hoped it was enough. "Goodnight." Nurse Hausmann watched him leave and then straightened, staring at the door as it closed. The corners of her lips turned up in the slightest hint of a smile. To Be Continued.... -- --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 Awards Tech Support http://www.trekiverse.us/ASCAwards/commenting/ No Tribbles were harmed in the running of these Awards ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek .creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? 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