The central computer was still giving him a few problems, like not letting him in the door to run a diagnostic, but he would deal with that. He was sure that if he could get in there, he could find out how to stop the terrorists controlling the computer. The most important functions of the computer were now possible, so it was not urgent. For now, he had needed to stretch his legs and decided to check over the cargo bay they had converted into a morgue.

It would be nice to get a chance to sleep today, but O'Brien couldn't see that happening. There was too much to do. There were still kinks in the computers to be worked out. He had to prep the runabouts and find a way into the central computer. And there was still damage to repair at Docking Port Four. It had only been sealed off temporarily. He imagined it would be some time before he got to sleep.

The turbolift stopped and the doors opened smoothly. O'Brien checked his tricorder as he walked down the corridor. When he reached the door, he used the tricorder to check the seals on the door. If the seals were faulty, heat would escape into the bay and much needed energy would be wasted. The seals checked out. O'Brien placed his hand on the black panel beside the door. He waited for the computer to identify him.

Bashir looked at the small device above the door. A bomb. It must be a bomb. "Computer, open the door," he ordered hopefully.

"Unable to comply," the dispassionate computer replied.

"Override!" Bashir clasped his hands together. How long? he wondered. Minutes? Seconds? He tried his communicator. It chirped weakly. But the comm line didn't open.

"Unable to comply."

He tried to open the door manually. He pulled down on the lever, but the door refused to open. He looked quickly around the room for an access crawlway, but there was only a ventilation duct high on the wall. The cargo bay had been emptied in preparation for the transfer of the corpses. There was no way to get high enough to open the duct.

The transporter. There was a cargo transporter in one corner of the bay. Bashir ran quickly over to it, but the console refused to respond to his commands. He tried to override, but, like the door, the transporter was inaccessible.

How long? Don't panic. Think. But what he thought of was fire. He thought of a fire long ago, remembered the pain of the burns on his skin, remembered the taste of the smoke, choking on it. Think, he ordered himself.

The corpses. They could shelter him. But did he have time to get beneath them? He looked back around to the bomb above the door. What had Grant said? He tried to remember the conversation he'd barely overheard when Grant was in the Infirmary. The light was blinking. When it stopped blinking, it exploded. And just as he thought it, the light stopped blinking and shined a solid red.

"Miles O'Brien, Chief of Operations," the computer droned. "Access permitted." The door began to slide open.

Even before the door could open all the way, Dr. Bashir came rushing out, barreling right into O'Brien. He grabbed his arm and pulled him along with him. "RUN!" he screamed.

O'Brien didn't argue. They hadn't taken three steps when the door blew. He felt as if a wall hit him from behind, knocking him and the doctor off their feet. Bashir was quick to stand again. O'Brien felt the pull on his arm as he tried to stand. A billowing wave of fire poured out the door. But they were running again. Thirty yards ahead a bulkhead was beginning to close, to isolate and smother the fire. Behind was the fire, trying to race them to the door.

Bashir was behind him, too. O'Brien felt his hand on his back, pushing him forward toward the closing door. We're not going to make it, he thought. The door was already half-closed. It was all happening in slow motion. O'Brien felt one last shove on his back, and he was through the door. He fell to the ground in a tumble. Bashir dived through behind him just as the door clapped shut.

Bashir sat up and leaned against the door, breathing hard and fast. "Are you alright?" he asked.

O'Brien was winded as well from their sprint. He nodded. "You?"

Bashir nodded back. Then he started to laugh. "I'll bet you didn't think we'd make it," he teased between breaths.

O'Brien ignored that. It took a moment before he could get enough air to speak. "What did you do, Julian?" He leaned back beside the doctor.

"Do?" Bashir asked, pretending to be shocked. "I didn't do anything. What were you doing?"

"I just came to check the cargo bay," O'Brien answered. "Make sure the seals were tight, and so on." He took a deep breath, trying to slow down his lungs.

"Same thing," Bashir replied, "checking on the bodies and the temperature, that sort of thing." He took a few breaths and then continued. "Then I saw the bomb. I was trapped. The door wouldn't open for me. If you hadn't come when you did. . . ."

"I didn't even know there was a bomb," O'Brien held. "If they locked out the door, why'd it open for me?"

"You were on the outside. They must have forgotten about that. I, personally, am quite glad that they did." Bashir stood up and brushed the dust off his clothes as best as he could.

"What did it look like?" O'Brien asked as he stood.

"Same as the one we found with the Bajoran kid." Bashir's breathing had slowed. "And it was just like Grant said. Flashing red light. It stopped flashing just when the door opened. I thought I was dead for sure."

O'Brien hated being reminded of his age by Bashir's youth. He, himself, was still having trouble breathing normally. "It can't be the same person," he said, thinking aloud.

"What do you mean?"

"Whoever has been controlling our computer hasn't forgotten anything," he explained. "Every scenario was covered when Targo Hern was gassed in the detention cell. Letting me open the door was a stupid mistake. It's not the same person."

"Well, at least this time, no one was hurt," Bashir concluded.

O'Brien began to laugh now. "So much for preserving your bodies."

A warning message flashed across the viewscreen. Another bomb. Kira stabbed at the console. Seventeen dead registered on the sensors. She stabbed another control, opening the communications line to Commander Sisko. "Kira to Sisko."

"Yes, Major."

"There's been another bomb."

There was a moment of silence before Sisko spoke again. When he did, his voice was slow and controlled. He was angry. "Casualties?"

"Kira," Dax interrupted. "It's Cargo Bay Seven."

"Seven?" Kira asked. "Just a moment, Commander." He wouldn't be happy about that.

Dax nodded.

Kira sighed. "How many bodies were transferred from the Infirmary?"

Dax checked the transporter record. She smiled. "Seventeen."

"Hopefully none, Commander."

"O'Brien to Ops." Another call came in.

"Dax here, Chief."

"There was a bomb in Cargo Bay Seven." O'Brien sounded as if he'd been running.

"We know," Dax answered. "Are you alright, Chief?"

"Yeah, the doctor and I saved each other. Look," he said, "I've got another idea about all this. I'll tell you when I get up there."

Sisko broke in. "You can all meet me in my office. The doctor, too."

Inara Taleyn handed the young man back his change. He had just bought a beautiful silver bracelet. He had asked her to help him choose the best one. He was going to ask his girlfriend to marry him. His nervousness and anxiety and happiness lifted Inara's spirits. Until she saw Theel.

He stood in the doorway, but he didn't enter. He stepped aside for the young man. Inara looked to see if Mr. Wayd was watching. He was busy with another customer. Inara gave Theel an angry look. He should never disturb her while she was at work. Theel made a sign with his hands, pretending to eat from an imaginary plate. Then he outlined with his fingers two large ears. Lunch at Quark's. Inara nodded and then shooed him away. She glanced back to see if Wayd had seen the exchange. When she turned back, Theel was gone.

The customer Wayd was working with left, and Inara approached her boss. "I know it's a little early, but I didn't have breakfast and I'm starving. May I leave for lunch?"

"Well, that was a good sale you made, wasn't it?" the shop owner commented. "And business is a bit slower today. Why not?"

"Thank you," Inara said, smiling. "You're probably the nicest boss I've ever had."

"How many have you had since the Occupation?" Wayd inquired.

"Only you," Inara admitted. "I'll be back in a half an hour."

Theel was waiting on the second floor. He stood at the railing until he saw her, and until she saw him, and then left to sit at his table. Inara climbed the stairs, wondering why he was smiling so smugly.

Quark's usually did good business for lunch, so the place was crowded. That suited Inara. She could then pretend she didn't know Theel and just needed a place to sit. "Is this seat taken?" she asked him when she reached his table. A few heads turned to see who had spoken, but people in Quark's didn't normally bother with other people's business. Seeing that nothing exciting was happening, the heads turned away. It was as if Inara and Theel were alone.

"Of course," Theel said politely and Inara sat down.

"Couldn't you wait until evening?" Inara scolded. "Coming to the shop was dangerous." She fell silent when the waiter came to take their orders.

Theel waited for the Ferengi to leave. "I know but I just had to tell you." Theel was excited. He lowered his voice. "Another event happened on the docking ring."

"What?!" Inara had neither received nor given orders for another event, another bomb, and not in broad daylight. The computer might as well have been fully operational. She lowered her voice to match Theel's. "Who set it?" She knew the answer.

"I did," Theel said. He didn't yet sense her anger. "It was just too easy. I was alone in the cargo bay, and, well . . . it just seemed like the Prophets were leading me."

"You're a fool," Inara stated. "Tell me everything you did." The waiter returned with a tray and set the food in front of them on the table. All talking stopped until he was out of earshot.

Theel leaned over the table. "I'm a fool?" He was insulted. "Why?"

"Tell me how you did it, and I'll tell you why you're a fool."

Theel had stopped smiling. But he seemed not to know if Inara was being genuinely insulting or sincerely critical. "You mean with the computer?" he asked uncertainly.

"Oh, so you did at least use the computer?" Inara said. "That's encouraging."

"The computer set the bomb. That was the beauty of it," Theel explained in a whisper. "The program kicked in when the door was opened. It sealed the door. Whoever was in couldn't get out. Then when he called for the computer to override the lock on the door, it armed the bomb instead. It also locked up the transporter and blocked out communications from the bay."

"What if it was a Bajoran inside?"

Theel shook his head confidently. "The program checked for Bajorans. It would have aborted."

"Is that everything?" Inara asked.

Theel still didn't get it. "Yes," he answered.

"And if someone tried to open the door from the outside?" Inara proposed.

"No one would have known," Theel took to the defensive. "There was no communication."

Inara held her position. "You didn't answer my question."

"I don't know."

"Then it would open," Inara concluded.

"But there was only two minutes from when the bomb was armed," Theel argued. "There wouldn't be time anyway."

"It could happen. You must think of every possibility." Inara felt as if she was talking to a child. Why had the Elders sent him to her? He was convenient, already a technician with clearance to many areas she did not. But he was careless. He would get caught. "What about security sensors."

"I turned them off."

"Where?" she demanded. "From the computer or from the bay."

Theel didn't answer.

"You're a fool. These people are godless, Theel," Inara said, "not stupid. Couldn't you see how fast O'Brien got the computers up this morning? They'd already caught Hern. Or don't you remember?"

"They didn't know he was involved with the bombs," Theel held. "They questioned him about the murders."

"And you believed them? They knew, Theel." He was stupid, almost useless. He would get them both killed. He was all she had left. She spelled it out for him. "Perhaps if they accused him of the murders, he would deny them so much that he would admit to the lesser crime of placing a bomb in an empty room."

Theel looked ill. He was pale. "What should I do?"

"You go back to work," Inara ordered, "and act like a part of the crew. And next time you wait for me." She took a bite of her food. "They think Targo was the murderer." She watched for Theel's reaction.

Theel didn't say anything. He began to eat his lunch gloomily.

"What happened?" Sisko inquired. He was looking at his two dust-covered officers.

Bashir spoke first. "I was just checking on the bodies that had been transferred to Cargo Bay Seven. When I turned to leave, the door wouldn't open. I thought it was just another glitch. But communication was cut off, and when I asked the computer to override the lock on the door, I noticed the bomb. It was very small," he held up his hand, indicating a small object about 2 inches long, "and above the door near the ceiling."

"And you just happened to see it?" Kira asked skeptically.

Bashir decided she was tired or she might not have said that. But then he was tired, too, and not in the mood to overlook it. He was annoyed. He turned to Kira. "The computer had answered, 'Recognize human,' to my request to open the door. I thought that was a rather odd answer." He continued with his explanation. "There was a red blinking light like Grant said he saw on the docking ring. It stopped blinking and the door opened."

"I had come to check the cargo bay as well," O'Brien said, taking up the story. "The door opened just as it should, and the doctor ran out, taking me with him. It blew just after that. We barely made it."

Sisko nodded. "Are we any closer to catching them?"

Everyone was silent. Kira looked down at the floor for a moment. But only for a moment. She looked up again and met Sisko's eyes.

"A little," O'Brien finally answered. "I've been thinking. . . ."

Sisko waited, his eyes riveted on his Chief of Operations. Everyone was watching O'Brien now.

"The door opened for me, but it wouldn't open for him." He pointed to Bashir.

"So?" Kira commented. "They wanted to keep him inside when it exploded. They would lock the door from the inside."

Only Bashir knew what O'Brien was getting at. O'Brien tried to clarify. "But they didn't lock it from the outside. If they really wanted to keep him in there, they would've made sure that the door didn't open no matter what. They made a mistake. It's not the same person that's been tampering with our computer. I know it."

"How does that help us find them, Chief?" Sisko asked. "We still don't know who the other person was."

"The other person covered all his tracks. He used the transporter to get in and out. He didn't lock one door to a certain area. He took every door on the station offline. He took down the security sensors before he ever went in. Whoever did this wasn't that smart. We still have security sensors in the bay. We can find out who's been in there."

"We don't have the sensors in the cargo bay, Chief," Dax corrected. "They're not working."

"Since when?" the Chief asked. He looked confident, like he already knew the answer.

"Since about 0945 this morning."

"Right. That's just before the bodies were transported to the bay and after the sensor array was brought back online. It wasn't a computer failure. I checked. The sensors were disconnected manually from inside the bay. They had to be. And we still have the sensors for the corridor. I'll bet whoever set that bomb was stupid enough to walk through that door."

"Can I help you, sir?" A young woman in a gold-trimmed uniform stood in front of him. Grant looked back at her in confusion. What was she doing in his quarters? He looked around. He was standing in a doorway. Beyond the young officer he could see large black computer consoles and screens, filled with colorful controls and diagrams. Beyond those was the warp drive, slowly pulsing with energy.

"Sir?" the woman repeated. "Only authorized personnel are allowed into Engineering. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave, sir."

"I, uh, I'm sorry," Grant stammered. "I seem to have . . . to have taken a wrong turn. I was, uh, looking for Commander Pynar."

The young woman, an ensign, smiled. "He's not here. You could ask the computer to locate him for you."

"Uh, yes." Grant backed toward the door. He could hear it open behind him. "I'll do that. Thank you." He stepped through the door and waited for it to close.

He leaned against the wall beside the door. He was in Engineering. How did he get to Engineering? He was asleep. He had to be asleep. He'd taken the . . . the hypospray. He should have been in his bed in his quarters. Two officers entered the corridor and glanced at him questioningly. Grant stood up quickly and walked passed them. He went straight to the turbolift.

Dr. Bashir waited for Reyna's eyes to flutter open. They did and she smiled when she saw him. "Well," Bashir said, "let's hear it."

"Good morning," Reyna said cautiously. Her voice was a little low and gravelly.

"Say it a few more times," Bashir told her. "Your voice isn't awake yet."

"Good morning. Good morning. Good morning."

"Again."

"Good morning. Good morning. Good morning." With each word her voice raised slightly in pitch and the gravelly sound disappeared.

"How does it feel?" Bashir asked.

"Fine," the nurse answered.

"Good," Bashir said. He turned away to touch a control on the computer. He pulled up a display of her voice patterns. He did not face her when he spoke. "What's your name?"

"Nurse Reyna Karn," Reyna answered evenly.

Bashir was watching the readout on the computer screen to see if the new pattern matched the old one. "How old are you, Nurse Reyna Karn?"

"I'm twenty-six years old."

"Are you married, Nurse Reyna Karn?"

Reyna crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. "No, I'm not married, Doctor Bashir."

Bashir turned around. He was grinning. "I just had to ask," he said mischievously. "The two voice patterns match. Congratulations, Nurse Reyna, you have your voice back."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"No thanks necessary," Bashir said, helping her to sit up. "It's my job. You're free to go."

"Thank you," Reyna repeated as she walked out the door.

Dr. Bashir tapped his comm badge. "Bashir to O'Brien."

"O'Brien here."

"Was there anything left in the cargo bay, Chief?"

"Actually, yes. They were on the far side of the bay, away from the door. One or two of the Teldarians were pretty much destroyed, but the others are in better shape. The bags melted, though. We've rebagged them and moved what we've got to Cargo Bay Six. I've checked the place myself to make sure there are no surprises this time. All the seals are secure. The temperature is seventeen below zero degrees. Thought I'd save you a trip."

"Thanks, Chief. Bashir out." Bashir was surprised. But he was almost hoping all the bodies had been destroyed in the blast. As it stood, they had to wait for transport or burial by their own people. That couldn't happen until this whole mess with the Bajorans was solved. Hopefully, that would be soon. Everyone who had prepared Cargo Bay Seven to be the temporary morgue was being questioned one by one in the security office. One of them had set the bomb.

"I'm going to lunch," Bashir told Jabara. "I'll be back in an hour."

"Yes, Doctor," Jabara replied.

From the amount of people on the Promenade, one would not have known that there were any problems on the station. Quark's was brightly lit and noisy already. There was a line outside the Replimat. Bashir looked for Garak in line but didn't see him. He walked passed the line and peeked in, scanning the tables for his friend. People complained behind him, telling him to wait in line like everyone else.

Garak saw him and waved. Bashir pushed passed the crowds and made his way to Garak's table. Garak had saved him a seat. "Good afternoon, Doctor," Garak said cheerily. He even smiled.

"Good afternoon," Bashir returned. He tried to smile. "I'm sorry about your shop, Garak."

"I am as well." Garak's smile faded and he sighed.

"Considering the line," Garak said, gesturing toward the crowd, "I thought I'd save you the trouble. I hope you don't mind."

Bashir looked down at the plate in front of him on the table. It was human fare: pork chops with rice and corn and a small salad on the side. There was a cup of tea there as well, still steaming and hot. "I don't mind at all," he answered honestly. "It looks wonderful. I haven't had a lot of time to eat this well lately."

Garak only nodded, engaged as he was in taking a bite of his own meal.

"What will you do?" Bashir asked, turning their conversation back to the shop.

The Cardassian took a drink to wash down his food and then answered, "I learned after the last time that it would be to my advantage to take out insurance."

"The Bajorans gave you insurance?" Bashir couldn't believe they would insure a Cardassian.

"They did not see it to their advantage," Garak stated sadly. "Pity. The Ferengi however see any possibility of profit to their advantage."

The Ferengi. Surely Garak was smarter than that. "How much profit did they get?"

But Garak was confident. "Not as much as they thought they were going to get. Besides, now they have to pay."

"Speaking of terrorists," Bashir said, changing the subject, "you haven't seen or heard anything that might help us in our investigation, have you?"

"Now, Doctor, must I always remind you?"

Bashir finished for him. "You're just a plain and simple tailor. But you're also a very observant tailor," he added, "and I'd hoped perhaps you'd observed something that might be of assistance in our investigation to find the people responsible for destroying your shop."

Garak leaned back in his chair. "I did happen to run into the young Bajoran boy a day before he was found dead in my shop. He was with a woman. I believe she is employed at the jeweler's near Quark's."

Bashir was disappointed. They already knew about her. "Yes, she lived with him."

"I noticed a different young man come to visit her at work this morning," Garak continued.

That was new. But was it useful? "Oh?" Bashir hoped to get a little more information.

"Yes, it was rather odd," related Garak. "He stood in the doorway and made signs with his hands. Then he walked into Quark's. She joined him a few minutes later. He was wearing a Bajoran uniform."

"What color?"

"A drab shade of gray. Not very flattering, I'm afraid. And what about yourself? How are you this fine day?" Garak asked.

"Me?"

"Yes, you've seemed a bit down-hearted, shall we say?" Garak explained. "Perhaps that other doctor has something to do with it."

Not him, too, Bashir thought. Garak was too observant. He probably knew everything already. "Which other doctor?"

"The famous one. There seems to be more there than meets the eye, as you humans like to say."

Dax stared at the viewscreen and scrolled down another page. The station's computer was cooperating well enough, but the records from the planet were splotchy at best. From the corner of her eye, she could see a figure step down from the turbolift. She looked up. "Good afternoon, Captain," she said.

Captain Gerin seemed a bit distracted, but he returned her greeting. "I believe Commander Sisko is expecting me," he said. But she noted that his eyes never made contact with hers. And he held the railing when he climbed the few steps to Sisko's office.

"Yes," Dax replied, "he is." She watched for the door to open. "Are you feeling alright, Captain?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, Lieutenant." The doors opened, and Gerin entered the office.

In a moment, Sisko's voice sounded from the comm system. "Can you join us, Old Man?"

Dax stood from her seat and bounded energetically up the steps to the office. Gerin was sitting, leaning over in a chair. Sisko was behind his desk. He had a computer display in front of him. "Lieutenant Dax has been checking the records of some of our Operations staff. We believe one of them has been working with the terrorists."

"And gave us the virus?" Gerin asked. His voice sounded strained. He clenched his jaw tight.

Dax watched him in concern. "No, sir. Chief O'Brien thinks that it's not the same person. There were mistakes and incongruities this time. But it does appear that they are working together."

"All Operations staff involved in this last incident are being questioned," Sisko added. He had apparently noticed Gerin's attitude, for he shared a worried glance with Dax. "Any luck with the records, Old Man?"

"Benjamin, they're all former resistance fighters. But their service records since the end of the Occupation check out."

Gerin's eyebrows furrowed. "If they're all resistance fighters, what are you looking for in the records?" His right hand gripped the arm of the chair.

"Two of the terrorists have turned up dead," Sisko answered. "We know there are at least two more."

"The ones we found," added Dax, "had been using false names. I'm tracing the records of the Operations staff back as far as possible to see if I can find evidence of a name change. Also, the bomb we recovered is small and requires being placed by hand in a target location. We're trying to establish who has experience in using such explosives against the Cardassians."

Gerin waited for more. "And?" He was trying not to grimace.

"The Cardassians did not leave Bajoran infrastructure in good condition. It takes time to get to those records, if they still exist. Are you sure you're alright, Captain?"

Gerin stood up abruptly. "I think," he said, breathing heavily, "I need to get back to my ship." Then he simply collapsed to the floor. Dax knelt beside him.

Sisko tapped his communications badge. "Doctor Bashir to the Infirmary. Emergency. Ops three to transport."

"Aye, sir."

In seconds the transporter effect tingled through Dax's body. When it faded, she was kneeling in the Infirmary over the crumpled form of Captain Gerin. He had no pulse. A nurse approached them, and Bashir ran through the door at the same moment.

"What happened?" he asked. He was already scanning the captain with his tricorder.

Dax answered. "He didn't appear to be feeling well. He just collapsed in Benjamin's office."

"Help me get him to a biobed," Bashir ordered. He worked quickly and took the captain's shoulders up in his arms. The nurse grabbed his feet, and they placed him on the biobed. The monitors lit up around him. "One cc of cordrazine, and let's try the neural stimulator," Bashir suggested. His voice was quiet.

Dax could guess the result before the device was even activated. The nurse placed the neural stimulator above the captain's head so that its two arms reached past his temples. When it was activated, the electricity applied to his nervous system caused the captain to twitch, but the readouts on the monitor quickly returned to their former status showing a distinct lack of neural activity. The captain was dead.

Bashir tried a few more times, but it was no use. "He's gone," he said, finally. He took samples of the captain's blood and tissue and let the nurse cover the body. He crossed the room to access the main medical computer. He talked as he pressed controls and started his analysis. "Targo wasn't our man," he said. "He was poisoned."

"With what?" Sisko asked.

Bashir did not turn around to answer. "There seems to be a compound of three different chemicals," he said, still watching the computer screen and displays. He stopped for a moment and looked up at Dax. "One of them is Gidari."

That didn't make sense. "Why would they poison Gerin? He's had nothing to do with them," Dax said.

Bashir shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe it isn't them. Who else could have gotten access to those chemicals? We'll need to find out how and when he was poisoned, who he's been in contact with."

"Dax," Sisko said. "You're with Bashir. I'll contact the Ranger's First Officer. I'll need an official report on his death."

"Of course," Bashir replied. Dax joined him at the computer where he was analyzing the fatal compound.

Bashir wasn't paying attention. "Stenacine," he said, as if it was the answer to everything.

Dax nodded, stenacine was the major contributor to the compound. "But," she pointed out, "stenacine would have been instantaneous. He walked here from the Ranger and talked with us for at least five minutes."

Bashir shook his head. "A ratio of ten to one stenacine to tricordrazine could delay the anesthetic effects of the stenacine by as much as six hours," he explained. "Any stimulant will do that. We have delactovine here, enough to hold the stenacine for up to half a day. And we have no way of knowing what reaction the Gidari chemical would produce when combined with these others."

Dax added, "Until now."

"Access denied." The computer droned.

"Now, I wonder why that is?" O'Brien asked. He was trying to get into the central computer. He was sure that the terrorists had tapped directly into the mainframe. He had to stop them from the inside.

"Unable to answer."

"I wasn't talking to you," the chief scowled. "Who is authorized to enter?"

"Chief of Operations Miles O'Brien," the computer's female voice answered, "Commander Benjamin Sisko, First Officer Kira Nerys, Chief Science Officer Jadzia Dax."

"And who am I?"

"Chief of Operations Miles O'Brien."

"Good." O'Brien felt like he was talking to a stubborn child, like when his daughter, Molly, refused to go to bed. "Then open the door."

"Access denied."

"Override!" he shouted, angrily.

"Unable to comply."

O'Brien touched his comm badge. "Ops, you ready to transport?"

"Yes, Chief," Mir answered. "Standing by."

They had been prepared for this. Lieutenant Mir was waiting by the transporter, which was already programmed to beam him into the room. "Transport."

O'Brien felt the effect of the transporter and watched as the door disappeared from his sight. Transporting was always an interesting phenomenon to him. One's body was taken apart molecule by molecule and put back together somewhere else. But when the effect faded and O'Brien was whole again, he found he was still standing in the same place.

"Ops," he said over the comm line, "I'm still here." His voice showed his disappointment.

"I'm sorry, sir," Mir said. "The transporter rerouted you back there. Shall we try it again?"

"Yes," O'Brien decided, "and monitor it carefully. I want to know what that transporter is doing."

"Yes, sir."

O'Brien waited and then felt the effect again. His sight faded and then returned. He was still staring at the door. "Report, Lieutenant."

"We almost lost you, sir. I don't think we should try it again."

Lost? O'Brien checked his chronometer. He was four minutes ahead of where he should have been. "What happened?"

"The transporter refused to send the stream to the emitter array. You were stuck in the pattern buffer for nearly four minutes. But we managed to override. We still can't get you into the computer."

"Obviously." O'Brien replied. "They don't want us in there, Lieutenant."

"No, sir."

"But I'm not going to let that stop me. Let's prep the Rio Grande. We'll try it from the outside. There's more than one way to skin a cat."

"Aye, sir."

The technician stepped into the security office. He glanced nervously toward the detention cells. "Have a seat, Mr. Stirad," Major Kira said, offering the crewman a chair in the front room of the security office.

The technician appeared relieved. "Thank you, Major." Theel replied. His hands shook slightly. He clasped them together and laid them in his lap.

Kira leaned back against Odo's desk. Odo sat behind her, silently watching the technician. She smiled in an effort to appear polite and unthreatening. She would start with the easy questions. "Mr. Stirad, you were in the team of technicians that were ordered to prepare the cargo bay for the transfer of bodies from the Infirmary, correct?"

"Correct." Theel nodded. But he did not offer any other information.

Fine, Kira thought. "Do you know why you're being questioned?"

"The bomb in the bay," he answered.

"And how do you know about the bomb in the bay?"

"Everyone knows about the bomb."

"Okay, which bay was that?" Kira asked, pulling her eyebrows down as if she didn't remember.

"Seven." Theel was being very terse. But his hands had stopped shaking, and he appeared calmer.

"Right, seven." Kira smiled again. "And what did you do in the bay?"

"I sealed all exits and vents to insure that the climate was isolated from the rest of the station and the corridors."

Kira crossed her ankles in front of her. Odo made notes on a PADD. She was glad he was there. He noticed little things in people's appearances that others often missed. "And what exits were those?"

"There were only two," Theel answered. "The interior door and the exterior. There were ventilation ducts high on the left-hand wall and an access tunnel on the right. Both were sealed off."

"The interior door was sealed off, too?" Kira tested him.

"Not exactly." He began to clarify. "I checked the door to make sure the seal was tight when the door was closed."

"Who could open the door from the inside?"

"Anyone, from the inside."

"And from the corridor?"

Theel thought for just a moment before answering. "Only senior staff and medical personnel."

Kira picked up a PADD. There wasn't anything on it, but Stirad didn't know that. It was time for the more specific questions. "When you were checking the seals on the door, did you notice any malfunction in the locking mechanism?"

"No, sir."

"Did you ever address the computer?"

"Only once, to set the authorization for senior staff and medical personnel."

"Did the computer ever verbally recognize you as Bajoran?"

Theel looked confused. But he began to sweat. "No."

"Did you find there was any anomaly in the computer in reference to opening that door?" Kira asked.

"No, sir."

Kira pretended to check her PADD. "Who opened the door when the team prepared to leave?"

"Ensign Ching."

"And the door opened for him? He didn't have to override the lock?"

"No, the door opened." Theel rubbed his thumbs together.

"When Ching opened the door, was this before or after the bodies were transported to the bay?"

"Before."

"And the team left."

"Yes." Theel nodded his head quickly. Then he shook it. "I mean, no. Everyone but me. I did not leave until after."

"After," Kira repeated. "Why did you stay?"

"To monitor the transport of the bodies."

She pretended to check the PADD again. "Were the bodies transported at one time, in groups, or one by one?"

"One by one?"

He'd had to guess. He's either incompetent or our terrorist, Kira thought. She didn't give the technician time to think. "How many bodies were there?"

"I . . . um . . . fifteen or sixteen."

"You were monitoring the transport. You don't know how many there were? Were you negligent in your duty? How did you know that all the bodies were transported?"

"I wasn't always watching," Theel admitted. "I didn't want to see them. The doctor would have said something if we missed any."

True, Kira thought. But it still didn't prove him innocent. "What were you doing when you weren't watching the transport?"

Theel stopped breathing. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he answered, blowing out his air as he did. "I was just standing there. I just didn't look."

That was better. Kira had seen his reaction. "And when the transport was complete, what did you do?"

The technician was nervous again. "I ran another check on the seals and then left the bay."

Kira's smile had long ago faded. She was serious. Her questions came more quickly. "Did anyone, to your knowledge, tamper with the security sensors in Cargo Bay Seven?"

"No."

"Did anyone tamper with the computer authorization to open the door from the inside?" Kira asked.

"No," Theel answered.

"Do you know what happened in the moments leading up to the explosion of the bomb?"

"No, I just know there was a bomb."

"Well, let me fill you in." Of course, she didn't plan to tell him the truth exactly. She wanted to see if he caught the mistakes, if he'd be stupid enough to correct her. "Chief O'Brien went to check the bay after the transport. When he turned to leave, the door would not open. Why is that?"

"I don't know. It opened fine before."

"Yes, so you said," Kira commented. She continued, "When Chief O'Brien ordered the computer to override the lock, the computer answered, 'Recognize human.' What would be the purpose in that?"

"I don't know."

"Use your imagination, Lieutenant. You're a trained technician." She reiterated for him, "Why would someone set the computer up for that?"

"To make sure they didn't blow up Bajorans?" Theel seemed to guess.

"Blow up?" Kira repeated in mock surprise.

Theel appeared genuinely surprised. "Well, there was a bomb. So why else would they lock the door?"

"The door wasn't locked, Mr. Stirad." Kira left him with that one and went on quickly. "Chief O'Brien then spotted the bomb beside the door."

He waited a moment and then asked innocently, "Is the Chief alright?"

"Quite fine." Kira answered. She watched him for his reaction.

He tried to appear relieved but his surprise showed as well. "But how, if the door was locked?"

"The door wasn't locked, Lieutenant. The doctor opened it easily, just as you said."

"The doctor was with him?"

Kira didn't answer. "You said the door would open for senior staff and medical personnel," Kira repeated for him. "Doctor Bashir is both. The door opened."

"It did."

Kira wasn't quite sure if that was a question or a comment. Stirad almost sounded disappointed. Almost. "And, of course," she said, "the bomb exploded. Why do you suppose this didn't happen when you attempted to leave the cargo bay?"

Theel thought a moment and wiped a bit of sweat from his eyebrow. "I'm a Bajoran," he answered.

"But the computer didn't recognize you as such. It made a point of recognizing Mr. O'Brien," she argued. "And Mr. Ching is human as well. Why didn't it recognize him?"

"I suppose it hadn't been set to do so yet."

"The bomb exploded only twenty minutes after Mr. Ching left the bay."

Theel shifted nervously in his chair.

"And you didn't leave the bay until nine minutes after Mr. Ching. Did the transport take nine minutes?"

"I'm not sure."

"How long did it take you to run your final check on the seals?"

"I don't know."

"Estimate."

"Two minutes." Theel answered quickly. "About two minutes." Now he was really nervous.

"The transport took only five minutes. Your check took two. What did you do in the other two minutes, Mr. Stirad?" Kira asked with satisfaction. This was it. He had to have an answer. If he didn't . . . well, he was their most promising lead yet.

He didn't. He stared at her with his mouth open again. He was trying to think of an answer. Kira didn't let him.

"You did not return to Ops for another eleven minutes. Were the turbolifts not working, Mr. Stirad?"

"Yes," he answered stupidly. "They worked."

"Then what took you so long?"

"I . . . uh, . . . I didn't take the turbolift. I walked."

"Why did you walk, Lieutenant? We've been on yellow alert for the last two days. There have been terrorist attacks every night for the last three days. There's always work that needs to be done. You knew that. Why did you walk?"

"I . . . um. . . ."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Kira smiled her best hostess smile. "You may go now. You may go back to work."

Theel sat there for a moment before he realized that she had let him go. He pushed himself up from the chair. "My shift is over," he said cautiously.

"Fine, then you're free to go. Thank you for your time."

Odo opened the doors to security and the technician quickly slipped out. He was the last to be questioned. Odo closed the doors again. "You're letting him go?" Odo asked.

"Well, I was hoping we could put him under surveillance," Kira said suggestively. She smiled with satisfaction. She had him. "He's our man, Odo."

Odo nodded. "Computer, locate Stirad Vind."

"Stirad Vind is on the Promenade," the computer answered. It offered a display showing the exact location of the technician, entering the Bajoran temple. Odo left for the temple, and Kira took the turbolift to Ops.

There was a silence on the Ranger. And an anger. The crew was shocked and disheartened. Commander Lairton, now acting captain of the ship, gave the announcement. It was a bad beginning. But the future stood still for no man. The galaxy was waiting beyond the wormhole. The mission would continue. The Ranger would set out as soon as her captain's murderer was found.

The entire crew observed two minutes of silence for their fallen captain. Then they went to work. Security was poring through the computer records and questioning everyone on the ship who had come into contact with the captain in the last three days. And the Head of Security headed for the station.

Dr. Pynar sat silently long after the two minutes were up. She tended to be a bit superstitious. The death of the captain before the ship even truly set out on its first mission was a bad omen. As Chief Medical Officer she was entitled to read the station's doctor's preliminary report of the captain's death. Poisoning. By stenacine. A poisonous mixture, made up of sixty-seven percent of a compound recognizable as stenacine, fourteen percent as delactovine, and nine percent of a sole chemical that she had never seen before, had been introduced into the captain's body, resulting in his death at 1237 hours, stardate 47732.6. It was unknown at this time how the poison was introduced or for how long it had remained in his system before causing his death.

Stenacine, by its nature, was a touchy chemical in that it had to be handled delicately. Certain chemicals were known to delay the effects of the anesthetic, others to weaken it. There were still others that should never be mixed with it. Stenacine was, therefore, purely a perscription drug. It could only be replicated on the order of a medical doctor or pharmacist. And it was apparent, by the presence of delactovine, that a doctor or pharmacist had, in fact, replicated it. There was just enough delactovine to delay the effect of the stenacine by twelve hours, not one minute more or less. Someone knew what they were doing.

Pynar suddenly realized what the rumors from the station meant. The Bajoran youth had been killed by a laser scalpel. And now a poisoning. She was a suspect. That was why she had not been invited to examine the captain's body and help in the investigation.

It was ridiculous, unthinkable. She could never kill anyone. She had taken an oath to the contrary. But even more than that, it contradicted everything she believed in about the sanctity of life. But then she was a Zeon. Perhaps that would be seen as a motive for killing the Ekosian captain. But, no, what motive would she have had for the others? The only ones with motives to kill the Ferengi and Gidari were the Bajoran terrorists who had killed the crew of the Teldarian trader vessel. But how could they have replicated the stenacine?

She hadn't done it. It was useless to worry about it, Pynar decided. She had nothing to fear. When the truth was known, she would be fine and the real murderer would be caught. She was not the only suspect. Maylon, too, had the access and experience, as well as Dr. Grant, which was also ridiculous. He would not jeopardize his career and reputation. Bashir, on the station, seemed to be excluded, or someone else would have been called in to examine the bodies.

The Bajorans could not be discounted. They seemed to have complete control of the station's computer, so they could have given themselves clearance to replicate the drug. And the unknown chemical was known to have originated with the Gidari, who had already killed one Starfleet officer. Would they have reason to murder the captain?

"How did it happen?"

Pynar jumped, startled by the voice behind her. She turned off the viewscreen that held the report and turned to see Maylon leaning in the doorway to her office. He's a suspect, too, she reminded herself. "I'm sorry, Maylon, it's classified," she replied. "They're still investigating."

Maylon nodded, but he didn't leave the doorway. Pynar studied his face as she waited for him to speak. His eyes were focused on the floor, hidden from her view. His expression was unreadable.

"He was too strict, for my taste," he said finally. His voice was soft, casual but thoughtful. "But I'd hardly wish him dead."

Pynar said nothing, but nodded.

"It hardly bodes well for the ship, losing the captain so soon." He looked up at her. "Are you superstitious?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Pynar lied. She wasn't sure why she lied. Maylon was a doctor like herself. He may have had problems, but he was zealously idealistic when it came to medicine. He had taken an oath as well. But she just couldn't be sure. She could only be sure of herself.

"I'm not so sure we should continue," Maylon went on. "Or maybe I'll just see about a transfer. It's bad luck, losing the captain. I don't trust this ship anymore. She's jinxed."

You won't get a transfer, Maylon, Pynar thought, but she didn't tell him. This ship is your last chance. "You can try," she said. "But this ship will be headed to the Gamma Quadrant soon."

"Maybe someone doesn't want us to go to the Gamma Quadrant," Maylon suggested quietly, almost conspiratorially.

Pynar laughed. She couldn't help it. Perhaps it was a bit hysterical, to laugh at so tense a time. "The Bajorans told us that the first night we came."