Bashir rematerialized just in time to hear the Blockälteste warn that curfew was only ten minutes away. It was loud enough to hear it through the walls. He sighed. At least he'd made it in time. But he was scared now, in a way he hadn't been the day before. Then he had known his death was sure, if prolonged. Now he had the chance to live, and he didn't want to lose it. And that was why he'd left the comm badge behind. He walked quickly around the corner. He had to get inside. But as he turned the corner, he came face to face with Heiler.

The changeling didn't move at first. Heiler's face was as cold and motionless as a statue. But then the fluidity of it returned and he scowled. "Going somewhere?" he asked, forgetting all about his accent. He pulled his hand up like he was going to backhand Bashir, but it changed. Now the hand was like stone, or rather, like steel. It even reflected the little light the night still held, and it struck Bashir across the neck hard enough to knock him back several meters into the snow. This time, the bandages did him no good, and the force of the landing twisted his shoulder behind him. He screamed in pain, but the sound never made it past his wounded throat. He coughed up blood and rolled over onto his stomach. His right hand reached instinctively to his throat. He felt like his trachea had been smashed. He couldn't get air past it.

Heiler didn't give him time to recover. He was sweating, melting, holding the shape too long. He grabbed Bashir by the collar and pulled him to his feet. "Did you think you could get away?" he snarled. "Why did you come back?"

Bashir didn't answer. He couldn't, even if he had wanted to. His lungs were having a hard enough time pushing air through his throat. Speaking was out of the question.

Heiler looked to be in a panic. Bashir could feel the liquid of his hand now as it held his collar and pressed against his neck. He looked to the north toward the source of the smoke and then hissed and tried to resolidify. Bashir thought maybe that was his salvation. She had to return to her liquid state. She couldn't hold the form. If he could just get inside the barracks, he could maybe survive the night. Sisko would find the badge and come for him again. And this time, he might not argue.

Bashir kept waiting for her to drop him and form a puddle at his feet, but it didn't happen. She made a decision though. As her decision solidified, so did her hand and the rest of Heiler's body. He began to half-push, half-drag Bashir in the direction of the road that would have taken him to his kommando in morning. Bashir saw the door of his barracks as he passed it. It was opened just a crack. It closed sharply behind him. He heard it lock.

He felt light-headed but heavy, like he weighed a thousand tons. His left arm weighed even more and tried to pull his body down. Only Heiler kept him on his feet. He coughed and a trickle of blood spilled past his lips. He inhaled and felt it gurgle in his throat. He stumbled forward only because she propelled him. They passed other barracks, but they were dark and silent and held no sanctuary, no hope. Up ahead, Bashir could see the watchtower and the gate.

They turned right at the gate and kept moving. They passed more barracks on both sides. Up ahead he could see a building. It was low with one tall tower in the center. Beneath the tower was a gate. The main gate. He had come that way before.

Heiler dropped him in the mud there at the gate and went to talk to the guard. Bashir collapsed forward, coughing and wheezing for breath, feeling the cold of the snow and mud seeping into his clothes and into him. He clutched at his arm, trying to lift it into place, to keep it from falling off his body. Heiler returned and grabbed him again, this time by the hair. She pulled him up to his feet and dragged him forward again, out past the gate and through the icy crust of snow. Bashir knew where they were going, and he would rather she just shot him now.

Kira had stormed out of the transporter room. That was it. She was starting to realize why he had left the comm badge. She had felt that there was something he was leaving out when she had asked him about the changeling. He had answered all her questions calmly, but his eyes had shown fear, just as they had when he'd nearly forgotten his cap. Fear of punishment. It actually made perfect sense. The changeling had him and wouldn't want him to get away. She would kill him. But what didn't make sense is why she hadn't killed him yet. Why had she saved him from the selections? And why, if he knew that she would kill him, did he insist on returning? Of course, it was to protect the people he knew and other innocent people. Maybe he thought he could return without her ever knowing he'd been gone.

She could still have a tricorder, Kira surmised, some way that she could detect a comm badge. Or at least he had feared that she did. That was why he had left it behind. If she had found it on him, she would know that the Defiant had found him.

"That should do it, Major," Nurse Hausmann said, interrupting her thoughts. "You look as human as I do."

Kira checked her face in the mirror Hausmann offered. Behind her own face she could see the reflection of the bed where Julian's uniform was laid out. She focused on her nose. Hausmann was right. The latex covered her nose perfectly, hiding all her ridges and blending smoothly with her skin. She already had the uniform on. All she had to do now was get past Sisko.

That shouldn't actually be too hard. He was in the mess hall, conferring with Thomas and the away team on the best strategy for getting Bashir back. They assumed he was already in the barracks now, locked away with eight hundred other men. Kira didn't share that assumption. She assumed something worse. Bashir was too afraid. His fears had to have been based on something real. The others had seen evil but still never assumed the extremes of evil. She had seen more of it to know that evil didn't have boundaries or limits. It went as far as the imagination and even beyond. Auschwitz was evil, just as Gallitep had been. The changeling was evil. The changeling would know, somehow, and she was going to kill him.

Kira checked her phaser and then walked out of sickbay. She felt a twinge of guilt as she passed the mess hall. Sisko wouldn't want her to go. But if she didn't, she was sure Bashir would die before they found him again. And if she was right, she could find him and the changeling together. If he died, they would likely lose the changeling for good.

Kira entered the transporter room and found that she was the beneficiary of a slight oversight. Since O'Brien had been manning the transporter, and there were no other away teams on the planet that night, the transporter room had been left unmanned in the confusion. Kira tucked her comm badge—one that would only translate German—and her phaser inside her cape and set the controls. She stepped up on the pad and waited for the transporter to take her. It only took seconds. She reappeared in the empty space between two wooden barrack buildings. The one on her right was Bashir's. She didn't move for a while though. She wanted her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

She forced herself to stand still and not rush into the barracks. She had to be able to see. She kept her eyes on the ground, on the snow and watched as it turned from black to dark gray. Still it was lighter than the barracks. There was a dark black spot though, just beside her left foot. She knelt down, and using her body and cape to shelter the sight and sound, she withdrew a tricorder. She passed it over the spot and then snapped it shut. Blood. She didn't feel guilty for coming anymore.

Max closed his eyes. He had heard, as they all had, the commotion just outside their barracks wall. The Stubenälteste had even watched it from the door after Heiler had gone outside. Bashir would not be coming back this time. Heiler had seemed anxious, and Max had been curious as to why he was waiting for Bashir to come in rather than going outside to get him. He was not hard to find. Szymon had told him though, that Heiler was insane. Max believed it now and knew that Bashir was dead once the SS officer stepped outside.

He had expected it to be quick though. Quick would have been merciful. But what Max had heard and what he had seen through a crack between two boards was not merciful. Heiler had him by the collar. He could easily have lied and said that Bashir was trying to escape. He could have shot him right there and ended it. But instead he had dragged him away. Max had listened for a long time for the shot in the distance, but it never came.

He couldn't grieve for Bashir though, no more than he could grieve for Vláďa, Henri, or Szymon. He had known Bashir less than any of them. Just like them, he was gone. Tomorrow would be no different for losing him. Another transport would come and would need unloading. A thousand or more people would die tomorrow, and they would go ungrieved as well. It was a cruel world.

The pounding on the door forced his eyes open again. Everyone woke up, though no one spoke. A few furtive whispers traversed the bunks. The Blockälteste emerged from his room and ran to the door, still pulling on his coat. He looked out as the pounding continued and then shouted, in a voice that held confusion, "Achtung!"

Max didn't hear him open the door because of the din of movement as the hundreds of prisoners grabbed their coats and caps and jumped down from the bunks. It could only mean that the SS was at the door. Perhaps Heiler had returned.

A quiet gasp erupted from the front of the room, and Max tilted his head slightly to get a look. It was the SS as he had thought, but it was a woman. She was alone. She held her whip in her hand though and carried the same power as any SS man. She could kill them just them same.

"Hats off!" shouted the Blockälteste, and with a snap the prisoners obeyed.

"Where is Bashir?" the SS asked in a loud voice. She didn't yell, but her voice carried the entire length of the room. She began pacing the length of it. "Where is the Englishman?"

No one answered. In the silence of the room, Max could count each step of her boots on the hard floor. She was on the other side of the room, just across from him when she stopped. She turned sharply and looked him right in the eye. He didn't look away as he knew he should. Something about her eyes kept him locked in her stare. It was the same as with the SS woman in Kanada. He wondered, then, if all SS women were like that.

"Where is he?" she asked him. It wasn't directed to everyone, just Max. Strange. How could she know that he knew Bashir?

Still, he wasn't completely lured away by her spell. She was a Nazi, his enemy, one who worked for the extinction of his people. He kept quiet and dropped his eyes back to the floor.

She snapped around, and walked back to the door until she stood right in front of the Blockälteste. This time, she did yell, and her voice was menacing. "No one sleeps until I have an answer!"

Kira was growing frustrated. The blood had been fresh. She was wasting time. She looked at the face of the block elder. It was calm, humble but calm. Humble but not submissive. She really did not want to hurt any of them, but they were used to brutality. They would not be afraid of simple words. They needed a reason to answer, and in this uniform, the only reason she could give was fear.

She looked around the room and then locked her gaze again on the block elder. "You are the leader of this barracks?" she asked softly. The man nodded, and Kira looked at the one beside him. He had an armband on his shoulder. "And you work for him?"

The second man nodded. Kira had an idea. She only hoped it worked before she had to pull the trigger. "Where are the others," she asked the block elder, "the others who work for you? I want them here." She pointed to the floor in a line that ran beside the brick flue. "NOW!"

The block elder called out a few names and other men voluntarily stepped out of the ranks. Each had an armband. These would be the block elder's friends, if she guessed right. He had the privileges to give to his favorites. She waited until they were all lined up. "On your knees," she ordered. They obeyed.

Kira walked to the other side of the flue and paced the length of their short line. She looked at the prisoners still standing behind them. "I'd back away, if I were you," she told them as she withdrew the German Luger from its holster. They wouldn't know that it had no ammunition. The prisoners scrambled away to the far end of the room, and the men on the floor stared at the weapon. Now she had their full attention.

"You are their leaders," she told them as she paced, waving the gun in their direction. "You have privileges and power. You get your own room, more food. I want to know where the Englishman is. Your prisoners won't answer me. You won't answer me. Tell me, do you think they'll answer me if I shoot all of you?"

Some of the men began to shudder. The prisoners probably hated those men. They wouldn't stop their executions. Still, she didn't want this to go too far, or the block elder and his staff would punish the prisoners for their hatred. Besides, the prisoners probably didn't know. They were in their beds, probably ordered so and unable to get up. These men would have the freedom to move about. They were the likeliest to have heard or seen what happened to Bashir. But not all of them. Which one had been nearest to the door?

Kira pointed the weapon directly at the Blockälteste's forehead. "Where is the Englishman?" she asked again. The Blockälteste shook with fear, but she watched the reactions of the others. The one just beside him almost sighed. She moved the gun to him. "Perhaps I'll start here."

He looked up at her, at the gun. His eyes crossed at the barrel. He opened his mouth and then shut it again. Kira tried not to hold her breath. This was the man who had seen, but if he didn't answer soon, her whole guise would be broken. They would have no reason to fear her, and they'd never answer. The man sucked in another breath and then spoke, in a whisper, "Scharführer Heiler took him away."

The changeling. Kira lowered the weapon, putting it back in its holster. "Where?"

Having already opened up, the man apparently saw no reason not to answer now. "I don't know. That way." His arm pointed toward the wall behind him. North.

Kira left them on their knees and walked to the door. She stopped before she went out. "Go back to sleep," she ordered. She stepped out the door and shut it behind her. She waited, listening through the wall. There was a rustling inside, but no more shouts. The door was bolted, and all was quiet again.

North wasn't much to go on. Nearly the whole rest of the camp was to the north. She thought about tracking them, but it was too dark to see footprints. And by the time the sun rose again, everyone would be at roll call. There would be thousands of prints and no way to distinguish Bashir's or the changeling's. There was nothing directly north except more barracks and an electrified fence. She went there anyway, just to be sure. But all she saw was fence and more fence beyond it and more barracks beyond that. And beyond the barracks she saw the chimneys.

The trek through the field seemed endless. His legs had long since lost the sensation of actually touching the ground. Heiler pushed him on. By the time they reached the other gate, he could barely make out the words above it, but he knew what it said. He had seen it before, too. The rest seemed like a dream, a memory of his first trip here. Except this time, he tripped on the rocks in the road, and he was filled with pain even greater than his hunger. The route was exactly the same and she brought him to the gate that led to the yard beside Block 11. The cell, he thought, please let it be the cell.

The guard on duty there let them pass, and she pushed him forward again. He hoped that they would head to the right, to the Death Block and its cellar where his airless cell waited for him. But instead she took him to the left, to the posts, and he gave up all his hope.

He thought he would simply die from shock when she lifted him into place. His arm would be torn from his body, and he would bleed to death. The pressure in his chest added to his damaged throat would be too much, and he would suffocate and die. But none of that happened. She left him with a promise that she would return for him in the morning. "Your life is at an end."

Kira stopped at the gate and addressed the guard there. "Have you seen Scharführer Heiler?" she asked. "He came this way with a prisoner."

"Yes, ma'am," the Ukrainian answered. "One prisoner, perhaps an hour ago, maybe longer."

An hour. Too long. They were getting too far ahead. "Did he say where he was going?"

"No, ma'am."

"Which way then?"

Like the prisoner in the barracks, the Ukrainian pointed, this time to the east. Kira sighed. At least that wasn't the direction of the chimneys. But still, between north and east, she was still dealing with the whole camp. But at least they had come this way. It was a start. She thanked the guard and passed through the gate.

There was a clearing beyond. Kira expected to see railroad tracks there, as it had shown on the map, but there were none. She didn't have time to consider it too deeply though. She had to find Bashir. There was another gate beyond, and it led to the second section of the camp, BII. Bashir's kommando worked there. But it was late at night and the guard had pointed away from it, to the right. She looked that way and saw the main gate, with its one high tower. If the changeling had taken him past the gate, he could be anywhere.

Bashir shook violently, from the cold and from the pain, and the shaking only caused more pain. Six thousand, seven hundred fifty-one, he thought. He was whispering it, too, but he wasn't aware of that. Six thousand, seven hundred fifty-two. He was counting to try to stay conscious. Conscious, he could just reach his toes to the ground and push himself up a little. Unconscious, he slipped lower, ripping his arms up further behind his back. It was difficult counting, especially at such high numbers. Six thousand, seven hundred fifty-three.

Maybe coming back wasn't such a good idea, Doctor, Garak told him. He was sitting on the ground below Bashir, in front of his feet. Bashir could just see his knees.

Bashir had been trying to ignore him. Six thousand, seven hundred forty-three.

Fifty-four, Garak supplied.

Bashir stopped and raised his head to look at the Cardassian. What?

Fifty-four, Garak repeated. Six thousand, seven hundred fifty-four. I'd hate to see you lose count now.

Bashir dropped his head and went back to ignoring him. Six thousand, seven hundred fifty-five. It wasn't that he was trying to be rude. Garak just wasn't helping. What good did it do to tell him that he shouldn't have come back? He did come back and there was no changing it.

That still doesn't make it the right decision, Garak interrupted.

I wasn't speaking to you, Bashir told him. You shouldn't listen in on my thoughts.

Now that really doesn't make sense, does it? Garak stood up and began to pace. Bashir didn't like that. It reminded him too much of the last time Garak had visited, in Block 11. I mean, really, Doctor, I am your thoughts. It's really quite impossible for me not to hear them.

But those thoughts, Bashir argued, were directed at me, not at you. Six thousand, seven hundred fifty-two.

Six, Garak corrected. You really should try and concentrate more, Doctor, or you'll never make it through the night.

Bashir was surprised to find that he could look up at Garak without physically raising his head. Hallucinations had their advantages. Why should I make it through the night anyway? He asked him. She'll only kill me in the morning.

Garak sat back down again, satisfied that he now had Bashir's attention. The numbers were beginning to bore him. Well, yes, but 'an hour of life is still life.' Didn't you read that somewhere once? Though death will be a mercy for you. It will end the pain. But death here will take a long time.

So now you say I will make it through the night anyway, Julian observed. You should just let me get back to my counting instead of wallowing in my misfortunes, Julian said.

It's not wallowing, Garak contended. It's thinking, and it's all you have left, so you might as well enjoy it. Certainly you can come up with something more fascinating than an endless string of numbers.

I've come up with you, haven't I? Bashir retorted sarcastically. And all you do is torment me.

Garak raised his hand to his chest in mock hurt. I'm sorry, Doctor, I was unaware of my offense. He dropped his hand and the pretense. But it is you who torment yourself, Doctor. It is your own doubt. I am merely voicing it.

Bashir wouldn't accept it. I don't doubt coming back.

Yes, yes. Garak waved one of his hands dismissively. It was the selfless thing to do, wasn't it? Your life for the lives of your friends in the camp. They'll die anyway.

You don't know that, Bashir held. They might live. There's a chance. They would have died for certain if I had stayed.

So you trade your happiness, your comfort, your life and all you could have done with it for the miniscule chance that they might survive two more years of this place, a death march to some other camp, and months there as well? He noted the confused look on Bashir's face, so he added, for clarification, You really do have a good memory, Doctor. You thought you'd forgotten about the marches, but it's all in there somewhere. You just have to know where to look.

Bashir ignored him and answered his point. I couldn't have had happiness and comfort. I couldn't have done more with my life. She would stay here, maybe go to Berlin. Maybe she would win the war for them. The future would be changed. The Dominion will have won.

Garak's face took on a sincere expression. So what good will your dying do? he asked. It won't change all that. She can still do all those things. Captain Sisko can't find her. What good does it do?

Bashir looked him in the eyes. Death, he said, paraphrasing Garak's earlier remarks, will be a mercy.

Garak looked sad. Not really a selfless act, then, is it?

Julian didn't answer.

Garak stood. He placed a hand on Julian's shoulder. Another advantage: Hallucinations didn't hurt. Goodnight, Doctor. I shall miss you. Lunch will never be the same. He backed away until he faded away to darkness. Bashir was once again alone.

One, he thought. Two, three, four. . . . He didn't make it to fifty before losing consciousness.

Sisko didn't need coffee. He was wide awake. Adrenaline, along with anger and not a little bit of concern, kept him up. Kira had called an hour before, from the surface. She had left without his permission and without thinking. A woman SS officer would stand out in the men's camp, even at night. But more than that, it bothered him that she had deliberately planned it, had help from the nursing staff, and had gone behind his back. She knew he would say no, so she didn't tell him. She'd been on the planet for over an hour before she called.

But now that she was down there, he couldn't order her back. She had been right to go, as it turned out. Julian was in trouble. That much had been clear by the comm badge he left behind. Sisko probably wouldn't ever tell her, but he was glad she had gone instead of someone else. He knew her determination and her stubbornness. If anyone could bring him back, it was Kira. However, by the same token, if Kira had shared the information about Heiler, the whole crew might have been able to work as a team on getting Bashir back. But what was done was done. He'd have to deal with that later. Right now, Bashir was the higher priority.

Ensign Salerno passed the small gas chamber on his right and diverted his eyes. He didn't want to see one of those again. Barker was there anyway. The administration building was up ahead and to his left, the SS hospital to his right. He ignored them as well. Salamon was checking the outer buildings. He went straight to the gate with its marking above. Work makes you free, he thought. Work makes you a slave, and only death makes you free. That's the reality here.

The guard at the gate stopped him, of course. But the guard was Ukrainian, and Salerno, as far as the guard knew, was German, an SS officer. He was allowed to pass. Four other members of the team were already inside. Still others had remained in Birkenau. Salerno's target was Block 11. Bashir had been tortured before, and Thomas had indicated that Block 11 was the place for that. The changeling might have brought him back there.

It was a long shot though. The changeling would probably not want to prolong the doctor's death any more than it already had. If Salerno were it, he would have gotten rid of the doctor quickly and left, blending in with the local people. The Defiant and her crew would not be able to track the changeling as long as it used no modern technology. Salerno didn't expect then to find the changeling, but he did expect that one of the team members would find the doctor's body.

The camp streets were deserted except for a dark figure here and there walking among the buildings. They were looking for the doctor, too. Salerno reached the last two buildings in the row. A wooden gate covered the distance between them and a guard stood at the gate. "I have orders," Salerno told him, forcefully, "to retrieve a prisoner from Block 11. Let me pass." He held up a piece of paper. But the light was dim, and he didn't hold it up for long. The guard was unable to give it a thorough examination. He opened the door. Salerno entered the courtyard, and the gate closed behind him.

Thomas had told them about the posts in the courtyard. Salerno could see one of them and a man there, hanging by his wrists with his arms hitched up behind his back in an impossible angle. He moved forward to get a look at the man's face. But before he had taken two steps, a hand touched his shoulder.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" a voice asked.

Salerno turned around to see the same guard he had talked to at the gate. He looked back at the door and saw that it was still closed. He was confused, but he couldn't let that show. "I'm retrieving my prisoner as I told you. Return to your post."

The man had not removed his hand from Salerno's shoulder. Salerno was not watching his other hand though. It thrust forward, becoming solid as it did so. Long and sleek like a blade, it sliced into Salerno's stomach. He was too startled to scream. He instinctively grabbed the hand, trying to remove it, but the arm that protruded from his own torso was soft and squishy. There was no way to get a grip.

"You were not meant to survive," the guard said. He lifted his arm quickly, forcing the blade of his hand up through Salerno's sternum and into his heart.

When he was dead, the changeling melted again, releasing herself to liquid. She moved onto the body, pouring herself into his coat and pockets. She found a phaser there, a tricorder, the ensign's comm badge. She could use it later. If the Defiant was still in this time, trying to rescue Bashir, she could use it to return to the Link. She might be able to salvage her mission after all, and avenge the deaths of her people.

She removed the objects from the carcass and carried them back to where Heiler's uniform lay piled in a corner. She knew she couldn't just leave the body there to be discovered. It would have to go. She thought of using the phaser to destroy it, but changed her mind. If she was going to be Salerno, Salerno could be Heiler once she was finished with him. So now she removed all of Heiler's identification, all the papers from his pockets, the decorations from his uniform that were not on Salerno's.

She moved back to Salerno's body and oozed over him again, letting the decorations move through her to their proper places on his uniform. It took only minimal effort to put the papers in his pockets. But his face would be a problem. He didn't look like Heiler. She couldn't change his appearance, so she decided she would have to obscure it. Lifting herself up, she formed herself into a lion and placed one paw over Salerno's entire face. She raked her claws over him repeatedly, leaving nothing but torn flesh and scarred bone. He was unrecognizable.

She dropped back into a puddle on his chest. There was one more problem. He was only an ensign. Surely, they had sent more than a lowly ensign to find her. There had to be others. She would have to call them and divert them from searching here again. Besides, if she was going to be Salerno, she would have to know his voice. Fortunately, she had not damaged Salerno's throat with the lion's claws. She made another appendage and pushed it through the carcass's gaping jaws. She found his larynx and explored it, feeling the shape, sensing the tension of his vocal chords. She formed them in herself as she did so. "I'm retrieving my prisoner, as I told you," she said, testing the voice she had made. "Return to your post."

It was perfect. Now to get rid of the body. She could not pull it across the courtyard in her present condition. Yet she was loath to make herself solid again. She couldn't hold it for more than a few minutes. She needed to rest. But there was no time for resting. The real guard outside might have heard the noise.

She could become solid, as she had with the lion, but she had to keep changing. She had to remain fluid. She chose the lion again. It was strong and could drag the man's body at least part of the way across the courtyard. Bashir was delirious. He probably wouldn't even notice. She got halfway down the length of the courtyard, dragging the carcass in her teeth, before she felt she had to change. She was glad the windows on the one building were barred. There were no lights in the other. She became an elephant and lifted the body with her trunk.

She made it to the wooden wall and tossed the body over. As she hoped, it went above the wooden wall, but also above the brick one beyond it. Good enough. The Defiant's crew wouldn't find it there. And, hopefully, neither would the SS until after she was gone.

That done, she poured herself into the form of a rat and scurried back over to her corner where she released the form near Heiler's uniform and her new loot. She only needed a few more hours before she would be rested enough to continue. In an hour, she would call the Defiant and give Salerno's report.

Bashir opened his eyes when he heard the voices, but he couldn't turn his head to look at them, not even as he had with Garak. That is how he determined that he wasn't hallucinating this time. He couldn't make out the words either. Must have been German, he thought. Maybe it's morning and she's come back to finish it. But the voices stopped, and, after a few moments, a lion walked in front of him dragging a uniform in its mouth. The lion dropped it, looking tired, and changed into an elephant to finish its journey. Neither of the animals had a made a sound. No growling, no trumpeting. And that was how Bashir determined he was hallucinating. He liked it better when he hallucinated a person, someone he could talk to. He wished Garak would come back.

By 0300, the entire main camp had been searched, assuming, of course, that Bashir was not in any of the barracks. Kira didn't know where to go now. They were still searching Birkenau, starting with the newly completed Crematoria IV. But the guard at the main gate there had said Heiler had passed him, dragging a prisoner by the hair. They had left Birkenau. Kira was sure of that. But if they weren't in the main camp, she didn't know where they would be. The entire team had reported back. No one had seen either of them.

Six hours, Kira thought. He has to be dead. But she shook that thought away. She wouldn't accept it. She found Novak near the main gate and called him over. "Where is everyone, now?" she asked.

Novak had come with the rest of the away team and was better prepared with more equipment. He took out a PADD and punched in a few commands. A map appeared with blinking dots to show the whereabouts of the away team members. In Birkenau, they were fanning out to either side of Crematoria IV, some reaching into an area barely under development and others retracing his trail back to the barracks. In the main camp, the dots were converging back at the main gate. Barker was coming to them now. Kira hoped the guard at the gate wasn't too curious about the increased SS activity that night. One dot was moving out the other gate by the SS guard house, an area they had neglected to search. Someone had caught the mistake.

Kira left orders with Novak to go with the others into the woods nearby and back into the field between the two camps. Maybe there was something they had missed. She wasn't ready to leave yet, though she wasn't sure why. It was a hunch, for lack of a better term. In the resistance back on Bajor, she had learned to listen to her hunches. She watched Novak and Barker head back out the gate and turned back herself into the heart of the camp.

This one looked so different from Birkenau that one might not have guessed they were so tightly connected. It had brick, multi-storied buildings where Birkenau had mostly wooden stables converted into barracks. She had no doubt though, that these were equally as overcrowded. The stench in the air could tell her that. And even this place did not escape the smoke.

Kira didn't have the PADD, but she did have a tricorder and she took it out now, scanning the area around her. She wasn't sure what she was scanning for, but she remembered her reasoning out of Bashir's fear. The changeling would somehow know of the comm badge, so he had left it behind. She had to have something to tell her he had a comm badge. Modern technology gave off EM radiation, so Kira scanned for that. Not surprisingly, she found it encircling the camp in the form of an electrified fence. But there was one point where the fence had a slightly higher rate of radiation. It was behind the last two buildings in the farthest row. Blocks 10 and 11, if she remembered the map.

Bashir could not keep up in his present condition, and the changeling thought about just killing him there in the field. But that seemed anticlimactic. After all the weeks she'd spent with him, dreaming up his ultimate demise, deciding how he would pay for the crimes of his people, she could not just snap his neck now. He didn't deserve a quick, merciful death. If she could not bring death to all his people, then she would bring death to him a hundred times before he ceased to exist. He was her revenge.

She saw movement ahead in the darkness, silhouetted against the horizon. Someone was searching the fields. She had stayed off the road, hoping they would not look for her in the snow. But they were there. Two of them. She shoved Bashir to the ground. He made a small sound, but didn't cry out. She was glad now that she had hit him where she did. It prevented him from telling her why he returned, but it also kept him quiet. She threw herself over him, covering him completely. She turned herself white, like a drift of snow, slightly dirty from the falling ash. She could still perceive the searchers, though they could not see her or the man that lay beneath her.

She had made a pocket above him, so that if he struggled or moved, it would not affect her appearance to the searchers. He didn't move though. He was probably in shock, close to death already. She had to hurry. There was a transport already arriving. She had to get him to Birkenau.

The searchers passed and she picked Bashir up off the ground. She placed him on his feet and pulled him forward again by the collar. If she had to, she would drag him. One way or another, he would keep up.

Kira had gone behind Block 10 to find the EM spike in the fence. Now that she was back there, the tricorder didn't read the spike. It read a separate source of EM radiation a few yards from the fence. She followed the tricorder forward until she saw a black lump against the ground just past the wall of Block 10. A brick wall linked that building to the next one, and the lump lay just behind it. As she moved forward, she was able to distinguish the shape of an arm. It was a body. She pulled out her phaser and moved cautiously.

It was a body alright, an SS officer. But the face was mutilated, slashed horizontally and diagonally at least twenty times. Kira's stomach turned, but she ignored it. Her hunch had led her here, and she felt this was important. No one could just kill an SS officer in a place like this. This was not a normal occurrence. The tricorder confirmed that this was the source of EM radiation.

Kira wasn't a doctor, but she was sure that dead bodies do not generally emit EM radiation, so it had to be something on the body. Pushing aside her distaste, she began to fumble through the dead man's pockets. Her hands became bloody, but she ignored that too. She found papers, a wallet of some sort, and some loose money. But she didn't find anything electronic. She held one of the papers up to the tricorder, trying to use its light to illuminate the words. They were all in German, of course, which she couldn't read, but she looked for something that might be a name. In Federation Standard, proper nouns began with capital letters, so she looked for capital letters in the document. There were plenty of them. Too many. Kira guessed they weren't all names.

She threw the papers down and took up the wallet in the same manner, hoping to find an identity card. This time she had better luck. There was a card, with a picture attached. The name under the picture was Heiler, Helmut. The word Scharführer was nearby. The changeling. Kira backed away quickly, holding her phaser toward the body.

It didn't make sense. The changeling wasn't human. She couldn't be dead like this. She could fake it, of course, but why? And where was Bashir? There was only this body. Bashir had said that she probably killed the real Heiler. Perhaps this was him. But no, the changeling had been in the camp for a while. She had saved him from selections. Thomas said those took place randomly, but usually a couple of weeks apart. If this were the real Heiler, he would have decayed by now. The blood Kira had felt was still warm. This was a fresh kill. And frankly, she thought the slashes on his face looked like something an animal had done. The edges were not smooth enough to be cuts from a blade.

This was not Heiler. So who was it? And she still had not solved the mystery of the EM radiation. She took up the tricorder again and ran it slowly over the length of the body starting from the boots. It showed nothing until after she'd reached past his neck. It had to be something in his head. She doubted very seriously that anyone in this time carried around hidden electronic devices in their heads. This had to be someone from her time.

Kira couldn't help it this time. She pulled away from the body and vomited. She tried to wipe her mouth with her hands, but they were covered in blood. It made her sick again. She stuck her hands in the snow and rubbed them together while she gasped for breath. Who was it? Everyone was accounted for. She had counted the dots on the PADD that showed their comm signals.

But she had not found a comm badge on the body. She took a deep breath and moved back toward it. She turned the head and put her finger in the left ear. There was nothing there. She tried the other one and her finger hit something hard and cool. It was not set deep, so she pulled it out. She recognized it. She had been at the briefing when Stevens had shown his gadget to the away team. This amplified sound so that the team could listen in on conversations from a distance. This is how they had first realized Bashir was still alive. This is how Jordan had identified him outside the barracks. But it still didn't answer who it was.

But Kira could deduce that easily now. The body was near Blocks 10 and 11. Salerno was going to search Block 11. Salerno had checked in saying there was nothing there. Kira stood up and pocketed the tricorder and the papers she had found. She ran back toward Block 10 and around the corner. She stopped running when she reached the next corner. There would be a guard at the gate. She stopped, took a deep breath to slow her breathing and then walked up to him.

"Good evening," she said, keeping her face expressionless. "I need inside. I have orders to enter." She held up one of the papers and hoped the man couldn't read it in the dim light.

"There's an awful lot of traffic through here tonight," the guard complained. But he opened the door. For a prison camp, Kira thought, the security isn't very tight. Anyone with a uniform could come and go. That was a problem, she surmised, when one believed in master races. One doesn't bother questioning one's brethren.

It only took a moment for her to realize the courtyard was empty. She went in anyway. She waited for the door to shut behind her and then took out her tricorder again. There was a lot of blood on the ground in the corner not far from her, near the wall of Block 10. Salerno's, she guessed. It had been covered over with dirt and snow from the courtyard. But the tricorder had seen through the guise. There was also blood near the far wall, though the tricorder had a more difficult time reading it. It was older blood, Kira guessed. They executed people here. She must have brought Bashir here. But there were no bodies. Kira pressed her comm badge five times, opening a signal to the Defiant and letting them know she was free to speak.

"This is the Defiant," Sisko answered. "Report."

"No sign of Bashir," Kira whispered. "But I found evidence of the changeling. She killed Salerno, sir. His body is just beyond the wall that links Blocks 10 and 11 in the main camp. You should probably have him beamed up. She has his comm badge. Can you trace it?"

There was silence and Kira assumed he was checking for the signal. But he answered, and it was too soon if that had been the case. "Actually, Major, we lost his signal just outside the camp gates near the SS Guardhouse. We sent Barker and Novak over that way, but they didn't find anything."

"She still has him, Captain," Kira told him. "She could have killed him here and dumped the body just like she did with Salerno. He was a prisoner. She could have left him here to be cremated in the morning. But he's not here. She still has him."

"Find him, Major," Sisko growled, "and maybe I won't court martial you this time."

"You can't court martial me anyway, Captain," Kira reminded him. "I'm not in Starfleet. Kira out."

She knocked on the door and the guard opened it. "Silly me," she told him. "Wrong building. I need Block 12, not 11."

He gave her a look that told her she was stupid, but she didn't care. He was dead in her timeline anyway. She left him and walked away. She waited until she was blocked from his sight by Block 21 and took off at a run. The gate that led to the SS Guardhouse was on the other side of the camp, not facing the direction of Birkenau. Kira felt another of her hunches and decided to bypass it and head back to the main gate.

Bashir could see them, figures moving in the night. They weren't prisoners, not even ones in civilian clothes. They wore hats, sharp hats, not the striped caps. They were SS. But he knew the SS wouldn't need to be running around at night. They had Ukrainians to guard the camp. The prisoners were all asleep. And Heiler acted strangely around these SS. She didn't want to get too close. When one of them was in sight, she would jerk him around another building or throw him down in the mud.

He assumed then, that if she didn't like them, that he should. Maybe they were like Sisko, Defiant crew disguised, looking for him at night when it's less likely they would be seen. They had come to save him. He knew he couldn't call out to them. His voice didn't work. It was worse now. His neck was stiff from hanging most of the night. He couldn't even turn his head. And she pulled him so fast that his feet couldn't keep up. He'd already lost his clogs to the mud. He had no shoes now and his toes were numb. He was numb, and all he could do was watch them prowl around the buildings.

They were coming to save him. It's almost a pity, he thought, that I'll be dead soon.

Kira reached the main gate at Birkenau out of breath. She hadn't even stopped to take the time to tell the others of her hunch. There were still several of them in Birkenau, and hopefully they would spot him. Kira saw the end of a long line of people going into the gate. They were well dressed against the cold. But they were quiet and scared. They looked around nervously and huddled together in families. SS officers, both men and women, accompanied them as did prisoners in striped uniforms. Kira slipped in with them without incident. No one even questioned her at the gate.

Kira thought about breaking away from them once she was inside, but her hunch told her to stay. Walking was too slow though, and no one here was running. If she sprinted ahead, she would draw attention, maybe even cause panic. Much as she wouldn't mind those people panicking and fighting with their captors, she knew she couldn't disturb the timeline. She knew where they were going. She had seen slaughter at Gallitep. That's what was awaiting these people. Their captors smiled at them and told them not to worry. They would lie to them right up to the door of the gas chamber. They had been using a boarded up farmhouse for the task, but now they had an efficient new one with crematorium attached. And Kira knew the way without following the line.

She broke away from them and started up the main road. She figured that one out by now, too. The railroad line hadn't been built yet. It would come in the next year or two to bring people like that closer to the slaughterhouse. They wouldn't have to lie to them so much. The victims would have less time to panic.

Kira remembered the other road that cut to the north, the one she could see from that first gate. She took it and ran again, passing barracks on either side of her. More than ten, more than a dozen. The camp was huge. How many people? she wondered. She emerged out the other side and ran into the line again. There were over a thousand people waiting to enter, and their captors were hurriedly encouraging them along. Kira had to stop running but she walked fast, still passing the line.

She passed four watchtowers and then entered a wooded area. She kept with the line moving forward. As she emerged from the trees, she saw him. An SS officer was holding him by the collar. The SS pushed people aside, putting himself between them and Bashir. Julian looked like little more than a rag doll, too weak to offer resistance. His hands were tied behind his back. Kira guessed that if the officer, probably Heiler, hadn't had a hold of him that Bashir would simply fall over.

The SS up ahead of Kira stopped the line from moving and told the people there to wait. Beyond him and the break in the line he'd just made, the people kept moving. In front of them was the building, with its two tall chimneys glowing orange from the force of the heat. The changeling pushed Bashir on despite the orders of the other SS. Kira wanted to run to catch them, but she couldn't. She was being watched by both SS and condemned alike. She forced herself just to walk.

The well-dressed people had already disappeared inside the building. The changeling kept moving Bashir forward. Kira was not able to gain on them. The changeling was too fast. In a few minutes, they too disappeared into the building.

The changeling entered just as the last of the pathetic humans left his clothes on the floor and stepped, unsuspecting, into the room. Men in striped uniforms emerged from the room and closed the door. "One more," Heiler called to them. "You can leave. I'll take care of it."

There was an SS officer in the room with them. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Go on!" Heiler shouted to the prisoners, "or I'll put you inside, too. Wait out there for the next batch."

The prisoners seemed confused, but they knew better than to disobey an order. The officer also looked confused. He stomped over to her as the last of the prisoners went outside. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "This is not how we do this."

Heiler let go of Bashir and he fell. He was too weak to get up on his own, at least not with his hands tied behind him. He tried though. Heiler ignored him. He wouldn't get far. She turned back to the SS. "You're right," she told him. "Bring them back."

The officer looked at Heiler as if he were crazy, but shook his head and turned to call them in. As he turned, Heiler pulled Salerno's phaser from her pocket. She fired and the man crumpled to the floor. He didn't disintegrate, though. She checked the setting on the phaser. Lowest setting. She had only stunned him.

Little matter. She forgot him instantly. He was no longer a threat. Wheezing for breath, Bashir was trying to slither toward the door. Ironic, she thought. He's not even inside yet, and he's having trouble breathing. She grabbed his collar again and lifted him off the floor. She hadn't had enough rest. She could feel it now. He seemed heavier to her and hard to lift. Or perhaps, he had finally decided to fight for his life. No matter. He would lose. She pulled him to the door, unlatched it and pushed him in.

They panicked when they saw him. He was bloody and bruised and he smelled bad. He could hardly stand and to their eyes, was barely alive. He was not what the Germans had told them. Disinfection, they had been told. You've been sent here to work. Bashir was not an example of the safe, if less-than-free, life in Auschwitz. He was an omen of something bad.

The lights went out and they began to scream. Their cries echoed around the concrete walls, deafeningly loud in Bashir's ears. They didn't want to die. And neither did he. Not now. It's a little late for that now, he heard Garak's voice say. But the room was dark and he couldn't see Garak. He couldn't see anything, and he couldn't hear the crystals dropping.

Kira pushed past the bewildered Sonderkommando and went into the building. She closed the door behind her, locking it quietly. She could see an SS officer just coming down from a ladder. Another lay face down on the floor only a few meters from her. The one standing would be the changeling. She drew her phaser and aimed.

The changeling reached the end of the ladder, dropping the can she—he—held. "Let him go!" Kira demanded.

The officer froze for one second and reversed himself. His face came straight through the back of his head, and his whole body switched until he was facing Kira. He opened his mouth to say something. He took a step forward at the same time, and Kira fired. The blast threw the changeling back against the wall and burnt up the uniform it was wearing. And then it exploded, shooting slimy residue all over the room. Some of it dripped down from the ceiling and landed on Kira's arm. Her hand shook. More of it had landed on the SS on the floor and on the piles of clothes all around the room.

She was frozen, waiting to see if it would pull itself together, if the slime would move. It didn't. Instead, it began to dry and turn into a dark, gray powder. Kira put her phaser away and slapped her comm badge. She didn't even wait for a response. "He's inside," she cried. "You've got to beam him out. Now!"

Sisko had gone to the transporter room. He had called O'Brien there as well. They had sent Salamon back into the main camp to locate Salerno's body. O'Brien beamed them up together. Sisko's throat hurt. Salerno had survived. He was one of the three. He had struggled for over a week to stay alive alone on Galapagos, and now he was dead anyway. His face was gone and his stomach was sliced open all the way up to his chest. It wasn't right.

The nurses had carried him away, and Salamon had insisted on returning to the planet. Sisko watched him go. He could have left himself, but he stayed. He had a hunch. And he knew from his years in Starfleet that he should obey his hunches. He told O'Brien to stay by the controls and called Thomas in to wait with them.

They waited. Eventually they had all sat down on the transporter pad. Dax had come in with coffee. Sisko accepted this time. He'd been up for over twenty-four hours, and now the waiting was draining him. He had just finished his second cup when Kira called.

"He's inside," she cried. "You've got to beam him out. Now!"

O'Brien jumped up from the pad, spilling his coffee onto the carpet. Sisko and Thomas stood as well. All fatigue rushed out of their bodies. "Chief?" Sisko asked, hopeful.

O'Brien shook his head. "I can get a lock on her, but I'm reading hundreds of life forms in the next room. I can't get a lock on just one. I don't even know which one he is."

Sisko had left the channel open. Kira had heard him. "He's just inside the door. The last one to go in. Probably only a meter directly in front of me. You've got to hurry. I think there's already gas in there."

Sisko could hear the muffled screams behind her voice. "Chief?" he asked again. O'Brien was the one with access to the sensors. This time he nodded. "Hydrogen cyanide."

He looked back at Sisko, his face questioning. What should he do?

Sisko didn't know the answer. In his mind he heard the seconds tick away. How many seconds before Bashir died in there?

Bashir was counting again. He was at thirty-seven when the others began to rush the door. Of course, he was standing at the door, and so, they rushed at him. He closed his eyes and wished that he could plug his ears. The sound was horrendous, ghostly. People were screaming and choking, trampling others beneath their feet. They pressed so hard against Bashir that they knocked his breath out of his chest. He'd been holding it. But it was no use now. He would pass out anyway, from the pain in his shoulder and hand. Both were pinned beneath him. He would pass out, and his lungs would draw in the poison. There was no stopping it. There was no salvation now. Death will be a mercy, he told himself. And he sucked in a deep breath.

"Major!" Thomas screamed. "He was last?"

There was silence on the other end. The seconds echoed in Sisko's mind.

"Yes," Kira answered. She sounded confused. "He was several minutes behind the others." Sisko didn't blame her for being confused, but he didn't interrupt the ensign.

"What were they wearing?" Thomas asked.

"What?" Kira was incredulous. "Nice clothes, coats, dresses . . . ."

"Look around you, Major." Thomas spoke quickly. She heard the seconds, too. "Do you see his uniform?"

More silence. Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, Sisko counted.

"No," Kira answered.

"Cotton, Chief!" Thomas screamed again. "Scan for cotton fabric."

O'Brien spun back around to the console. "Got it," he said quietly. He was amazed.

"Beam it up," Thomas ordered, "and anything inside it."

The gas had an almond smell to it. Cyanide, his mind diagnosed. He couldn't feel the pain any longer, nor could he hear the screams of those around him. He forced himself to breathe deeply, not to cough. Death was a mercy. It was all over now.

He felt a tingling sensation that started at his toes and the top of his head. He thought for a moment that he remembered it. But then realized it was only another hallucination. His eyes were still closed, he wouldn't open them. He was going to die.

The tingling fell through him, meeting at his stomach, and the ground moved under his feet. The pressure of all those bodies was gone, and the door was not at his back. He defied himself and opened his eyes . . . and promptly fell into the captain's arms.