Captain Sisko sat quietly in his chair in the center of the bridge and stared at the main viewscreen. But he didn't see the stars flying past in thin ribbons of light. He was thinking. He worried that they hadn't heard anything from the station yet. He knew that something or someone had beamed down to the station before the Klingon ship sped off. And he knew that there were no intruders, shapeshifters or otherwise, on the Defiant. So the something or someone had to have been left behind. It was still on the station.

Odo was a good security officer. The best. And it wasn't that Sisko didn't trust him. He just felt like he should be there. He wanted to know for sure that the intruder was captured, that it wasn't still running loose on the station, threatening its residents, including his son.

"Major, any word from the Constable yet?" He knew he shouldn't have asked. He'd asked too many times already.

"No, sir," Kira answered. She turned in her seat and lowered her voice. She didn't want the whole bridge crew to hear. "I'm sure Odo's caught it by now."

Sisko matched her volume. "I'm sure, too. I just wish he'd call to tell me so." He sighed and tried to put it out of his mind. His immediate concern was catching that ship. "Any change, Old Man?" he asked. His voice sounded a bit weary. They'd been chasing the ship for four days now.

"The heading's basically the same, Benjamin," Dax responded from the helm. "I'm still on them."

Sisko knew what she meant by 'basically.' The ship they were pursuing had changed course on a regular basis, but in the end, it always came back to the same heading: Earth.

Sisko turned to Kira at the communications console. "Open a channel to Starfleet Command."

Kira nodded and then turned to her station. A second later she responded, "Channel open."

"On screen." Sisko faced forward again and looked past Dax to the main viewscreen. The stars that flew by in long white streaks winked out. In their place was a well-lit room with large windows. A man looked up from his desk.

"Captain?"

Sisko didn't quite know where to start. Earth had had an invasion scare recently, and things had snowballed to a panicked state. Sisko didn't want that to happen again. A state of war was bad enough. "Admiral, I presume you know about the Klingon vessel we are pursuing."

The admiral nodded. "Yes, we received your communique three days ago. Have you caught them?"

Sisko straightened. "No, sir. But we are still in pursuit."

"The Lakota and the Venture have been diverted as well. They'll be trying to intercept the ship. The Klingons have reported that ship missing, Captain. And with a Cardassian registry, I think it's safe to assume it's hostile." The admiral wasted no time with small talk.

Sisko tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment, but he continued. "The ship, sir, is headed toward Earth."

The admiral took a deep breath, but he didn't speak right away. He dropped his head slightly and stared intently at his desk. "We'll have our defenses ready," he finally said.

Sisko nodded without breaking eye contact. His face was grim.

The admiral still looked indecisive. "It's just the one ship?"

"Yes, sir."

That seemed to relieve him just a little. "Don't lose it. Keep us informed of its whereabouts so we can track it."

"Of course, sir." Sisko nodded and then said, "Admiral, have you received any word from Deep Space Nine?"

The admiral's face hardened. Bad news, Sisko thought. "Not since you left. We're trying to reach them. Todman out."

Sisko didn't like it. The station had lost contact with Starfleet Command and the Defiant. Something was wrong there.

Whaley clenched her jaw tight and looked at the chronometer again. One more hour. She closed her eyes and silently willed herself solid. It was getting harder every day. Someone stepped around the corner, and she quickly opened her eyes and stood up straight.

It was the doctor's fault, she decided, or her own. She thought she'd taken care of the problem by destroying the blood samples. But being seen by the nurse had complicated things. Now she had to be Whaley in the morning and then take the nurse's shift at night. She was having to adjust her regenerative cycle. She'd been prepared to rest at night when she wouldn't be expected anywhere else on the ship. But now she had to rest in between her different shifts. It wasn't easy to change. Her body did not want to hold this shape any longer. And if she wasn't careful, her appearance would— to put it in the solids' terms— melt. And then the whole plan would be ruined.

And on top of that, she'd had to learn the nurse. She had studied Lieutenant Julie Whaley before she'd been placed on the station. She knew her background, her duties, her DNA. The nurse was never part of her plan. That was someone else's job.

Then the doctor couldn't leave well enough alone. He'd come in every night to check on sickbay— even if he'd had no patients that day— and interrupt her studying. It was a good thing the nurse hadn't been posted here for very long. Bashir might have caught on that first night.

She had to work twice as hard now to perform her real duties. She had to leave Whaley's post or the nurse's to carry out her own tasks in the ship's systems. Whaley's was easier. She could change the roster and post herself in a more convenient, more isolated, position where she could slip away unnoticed. Still, she was beginning to worry that everything would not be in place in time.

Despite the threat of the ship they were chasing, life had settled back down into its routine for Dr. Julian Bashir. Only now it wasn't on the station. Here on the Defiant, with its much smaller crew compliment, he was left with a lot of free time on his hands. At times, on the station, he'd felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of patients he was expected to care for, usually after some attack, accident, or other emergency, but even on quiet days, he'd have one or two patients trickle in now and again for some minor problem.

But the station could house thousands of people, with both residents and visitors. The Defiant only held forty-seven. The chances that, at any given time,— provided they weren't in battle— they'd all be perfectly healthy were much better. Bashir decided he couldn't really complain though. It made his job all that much easier. But there were only so many times that he could run a diagnostic on his systems or inventory his medical supplies. He usually tried to bring some of his research along with him, like his prion project or his notes on the blight, when he had more time to prepare. But this had been short notice and the notes on the Defiant were not up-to-date.

Thankfully, his shift was ending soon, and he'd meet Jadzia and the Chief for dinner. He decided to spend more time next shift on the bridge, where at least something was happening.

He couldn't go to dinner without checking everything one more time though. It would nag at his conscience all through the meal if he didn't. It wouldn't take too long anyway. Sickbay on the Defiant was a very small place.

There were three movable biobeds, all functioning perfectly. Diagnostic systems were fine. All his supplies seemed to be in their proper places. Nothing was missing. There were stasis drawers along one wall. They were used to temporarily store a patient, in the instance that the Defiant's medical bay just wasn't adequate, until proper treatment could be provided. Or, of course, they were used when it was too late for medical treatment at all. It would serve as a temporary morgue. He checked each of the drawers' controls. None were activated.

No patients. And the log was up-to-date. That was it. He checked with the nurse on duty and then headed out the door. His stomach growled. Perfect timing.

Whaley walked carefully down the corridor, making sure that her feet stayed solid. The door to her quarters opened immediately when she stepped in front of it. It took a lot of concentration to lift her foot from the ground to step inside. Once in, the door closed and she glanced around the small room to make sure there was no one else there. Only then did she let herself release the solid form she'd been holding. She sank down to the floor in a liquid blob and, worried that one of the other crewmen who shared the quarters might return, she moved to the replicator. Raising herself up to its height, she began to slip behind the panel and pour herself into the space behind it, being careful not to touch the power conduits.

She moved off a little further into the ship and then stopped. She'd been resting here every day for a few hours since this mission started. No one had found her, nor was anyone likely to. In a few hours, she'd have to continue her preparations. Her people were counting on her. If she failed, the whole mission would fail as well.

Julian Bashir reached the mess hall before the others and chose a table for them. He was careful to leave Worf's seat free. It wasn't that it was really his seat, and to be truthful, Bashir found it quite childish that Worf thought of it that way, but it was hardly worth arguing over. A seat was a seat, and Bashir could sit in any of them without complaint. But he didn't see any reason not to tease Worf about it when he had the opportunity.

It was a risky thing to tease a Klingon, especially one who outranked him, so Julian was always careful to do it in small ways. He waited for a turn at the replicator and then ordered his food along with one extra-large glass of prune juice. When he returned to the table he set the prune juice squarely in front of Worf's spot and then sat on the opposite side of the table.

Jadzia and Worf arrived together, having come from the bridge. Jadzia smiled and nodded his way before going to the replicator for her dinner. Three people were ahead of her in line. Worf stared for a moment, trying to decide if someone else had sat in his seat. Julian just smiled innocently and waved, satisfied with Worf's confused expression. Worf's face stiffened visibly before he walked over to the table. He stared at his seat for a few moments and then looked around the room, trying to spot the perpetrator.

Julian let him stew for a few seconds more then said, innocently, "Tough day on the bridge?"

Worf, obviously in no mood for small talk, grumbled that it was an ordinary day. "Nothing has changed," his deep voice rumbled.

By that time, Jadzia was finishing up at the replicator, and Chief O'Brien was walking in the door. Worf tried not to appear as annoyed as he was, but he wasn't very good at hiding such emotions. "Is someone sitting here?" he asked.

Julian shook his head and took a bite of his pasta. "I don't know," he lied. "It"— he gestured toward the glass— "was here before I arrived. I haven't seen anyone."

Jadzia came up to the table, directly across from Worf, and eyed the doctor suspiciously before sitting down. To her credit, she played along. "Something wrong, Worf?" she asked.

That did it. Julian had to clench his teeth to keep from laughing. Worf was speechless. He stood there with his mouth open trying to think of what to say without sounding like a child. Dax didn't make him try too hard though. She reached over and grabbed the glass. Holding it to her nose, she sniffed once and then made a face. "Don't you ever get tired of drinking prune juice at every meal?" She set the glass back down in its place and looked back up at the Klingon.

"Are you going to eat standing up, Commander?" O'Brien asked, and Julian was almost certain he saw Worf jump. Well, maybe not, he thought, but it was entertaining just the same.

Worf regained his composure then. He straightened up and turned to answer the Chief. "I am not yet ready to sit," was all he said before he took up a place in the line for the replicator.

Jadzia continued to stare at Bashir while the chief sat down across from her.

Julian smiled back, "And how was your day, Jadzia?"

"Fine," she said. "See many patients, Julian?"

"Not one."

Jadzia finally smiled back and nodded.

"Did I miss something?" O'Brien asked in between bites.

Ensign Mylea Thomas fought back the yawns as she stared at the console display in front of her. It was becoming a bit hypnotic, watching the same pattern of colored lines and symbols run across her screen for the past four hours. Just four more to go, she thought to herself. The colored lines on her display were the ion trail and anti-proton beams they were using to follow the cloaked Klingon vessel. The pattern had hardly changed in the last four hours, nor had it really changed in the last four days. And that, in the end, is what kept Ensign Thomas from falling asleep. Her body was tired of the monotony, but her mind was well aware of where that pattern was leading: straight to the home of most of the members of this crew, including herself.

For a change of pace, she'd let the computer keep an eye on the ion trails and watch the stars fly by on the main viewscreen. It was exhilarating for a little while. She'd always loved speed and the thrill of flying. That was what drove her to Starfleet. If it hadn't been for starships, she knew she would have worked in museums back on Earth like her grandmother. Mylea had long ago decided she was a complicated person, at once drawn to the past and held by the stars, fascinated by the abilities of modern technology and full of admiration for those who had lived without it. The best of both worlds.

But after a while the streaking stars could become hypnotic, too. She studied her instruments, performing a diagnostic mentally. She checked her heading and verified the ion trail was still there, speed still steady. Everything was fine. Back to the ion trail.

The ship ahead of her changed course abruptly. Mylea expected as much. It had been doing that for the last four days as well. Mylea altered her course to match. In an hour or so the ship would undoubtedly change course again, bringing it back on a heading toward Earth. If they're trying to shake us, Mylea thought, they should try a little harder than that. Commander Dax had not been fooled and neither would she. It seemed to be a half-hearted attempt at best. Still she reported the change to the bridge commander.

Wieland, who was sitting across from her at the Engineering station, stretched his arms in front of him and then leaned back again in his chair. He turned to look over at her. "Oh, Thomas, I almost forgot."

"What?" Mylea glanced over at him and then returned her attention to the main viewscreen.

"My mother sent me a holoprogram of the opera Susana was in last month. I know, we don't have any holodecks here on the ship, but she also sent video. You interested?"

"Which composer? Which opera? And which theater?"

Wieland smirked and shook his head at her bluntness. "Mozart, of course. Don Giovanni. And some theater in Prague. I don't remember the name."

"Well, it makes a difference, Chris." Mylea checked her instruments again and turned to look at her friend. His eyes were on his own console where his fingers flitted across the surface. "It could be the Old National Theater or the Estates. He premiered Don Giovanni in Prague, you know."

"It was something I couldn't pronounce," he said, giving her a glance. "Probably in Czech. Started with an 's.'"

"Stavovské, perhaps?" She turned back to her display.

"What?"

"Stavovské. It's Czech. It starts with an 's.' Is that the one?"

"I guess so," Wieland feigned a sigh of exasperation. "You're not getting bored, are you?"

"Of course not," Mylea lied. It wasn't really a lie. She wasn't bored now. Chris Wieland was always good for a little entertainment now and then. She suspected he hadn't forgotten to ask her to see the opera with him, but had just waited until the shift got a little heavy. "If it is the Stavovské, then that's where he premiered it in 1787. And in that case, I'd love to see it."

"Oh, I see," Wieland teased. "My sister starring as Donna Anna isn't enough for you."

"No, not when it means I can see the same theater Mozart saw. It wouldn't be the same if she were playing in New York." The ion trail shifted again on her display. They're early, she thought and adjusted her course to match. "Changing course again, sir."

"Back toward Earth?" the bridge commander asked from behind her.

"Yes, sir."

"They're early."

The changeling was stretched out long and thin in the confining space. To a solid, she would probably be likened to a snake, but the thought never crossed her own mind. She was too busy worrying about other things. The ship would reach Earth in three days, and she still had much to prepare if her mission was to succeed. And she only had a few more minutes before she was expected in sickbay as Nurse Hausmann.

Moving through the spaces to a Jefferies tube, she was careful to make sure she was alone before she emerged completely. She formed four tendrils that reached up to grasp the handles of one of the panels and pulled the cover loose. There was a dark spot in her form, suspended in the gel of her body. With a rippling motion, she pushed it forward, up over the cover she still held, until she could place it inside the opened panel. When she was finished she pushed the cover into place and pulled herself, snakelike, back into the tighter spaces of the ship.

She emerged again from the ceiling above a corridor on deck two. She paused only to be sure the area was empty and then let herself fall to the floor, easily forming the body of Nurse Hausmann from the feet up. She wasn't too worried about being seen. It was 'night' on the ship, and most of the crew was returning to quarters to sleep. She began to walk down the corridor.

Another corridor crossed the one she was in, a few meters ahead. She could hear the hushed voices of the crewmen in that corridor. Just as she was about to step around the corner, she noticed the color gold from the lower edge of her visual range. The uniform. She shrugged her shoulders once and the color of her undershirt changed to the blue of someone in medicine. Now she started to worry that she had the wrong communicator badge. She put it out of her mind though, it was too late to change for now. Bashir would be by before long to check on things before he went to sleep. She had to be there when he came. Later, when she was alone, she could check it and slip off to her quarters to exchange it if need be.

She hadn't been on duty for more than ten minutes before Bashir entered. "How are you this evening?" he asked cordially.

"Fine, Doctor."

He was still standing in the doorway. "Everything's still quiet, I presume," he said looking around the room. The changeling wasn't sure if it had been a question or a statement. She nodded.

"Well," he sighed, "that's good, really. Any problems with the equipment?" he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. The changeling thought he sounded hopeful.

Hausmann shook her head. "Everything's fine. I suspect we'll have plenty to do in a few days."

He sighed again and crossed his arms across his chest. His dark eyes were cast toward the floor. "You're probably right." He looked up at her with a sad little smile. "But I hope we're just as bored."

Satisfied that sickbay was in order, Doctor Bashir turned toward his quarters for the night. He tried not to feel guilty as he stepped into the turbolift. His dressing down of Nurse Hausmann a few days back had been warranted. And he didn't feel that he'd been overly harsh. But the nurse was always very formal with him now. She did her job. He had no complaints there. But she never smiled anymore, never greeted him when he entered. She only nodded. He never even saw her in the mess hall or talking to one of the other nurses. It just wasn't like her, and he was afraid it was because of him.

He could understand why she would act that way though. He, himself, had never taken criticism very well. He would accept it graciously enough, but it ate away at him when the others couldn't see. He just couldn't forget it and move on. Maybe Hausmann was having the same problem.

The turbolift stopped and he walked out into the darkened corridor. It was rather late. He put his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn. His door opened in front of him. The door's frame was slightly shorter than he was, so he had to duck his head a little before he stepped inside. He yawned again and told himself that he'd just have to forget about Nurse Hausmann. He'd done the right thing, and he'd just have to wait for her to come to terms with it.

*********

"Status, Dax?" Captain Sisko had called a staff meeting on the bridge to discuss their plans. His officers sat at their stations or stood around him.

Dax turned around to face the captain's chair. "Judging by the ion trail we're about thirty minutes behind the Klingon ship," she stated.

"We've gained on them," Worf declared.

"Not enough," Sisko returned. "How long until we reach the Solar system?"

Dax didn't need to check her instruments. She knew the answer. "Three hours, Benjamin."

Sisko looked around the room. O'Brien was the next to speak. He was sitting at the Engineering station. "The ship is holding up fine, sir. She'll be ready when we do catch them."

"I suspect Earth's defense forces will catch them first," Bashir added cautiously. He turned when Kira spoke.

"Let's hope so," she said.

Sisko was leaning back in his chair, looking through his steepled fingers. He gave one quick nod, and then looked up at his officers. "But we're going to stay on them anyway."

"We should prepare for battle," Worf growled.

"We are prepared," Dax countered. "There's really not much more we can do at the moment."

Bashir watched the Klingon from across the captain. He and Worf were standing on either side of the captain's chair. When he spoke again, Worf's voice was a little louder, but his eyes were less focused on the captain. "We could charge the weapons and load the torpedo bays."

Sisko shook his head. "It's a bit early for that. We'll have time to arm our weapons when we enter the system. For now, just keep everything ready."

Everyone turned to go back to their stations. "Doctor," Sisko called.

Bashir stopped, turned back, and waited for the captain to speak.

Sisko didn't face him, and he spoke quietly. "You might want to prepare sickbay."

"Of course," Bashir replied just as softly but with conviction. Sisko nodded.

When Bashir turned again, he saw that O'Brien had waited for him. Noting Bashir's somber expression, he didn't speak until they'd stepped into the turbolift and the doors were closed. "Well," he said, "I can't say that I'm looking forward to going home this time."

Bashir raised his eyebrows and gave his friend a small smile, but he really just didn't know what to say. Many times, he'd thought for certain that he would not look forward to returning to Earth, but every time he saw that blue marble planet shining in the blackness of space, he couldn't help but feel that it was still home to at least part of him. But under these circumstances— a Dominion ship threatening that home— no one on this ship was looking forward to it. Well, maybe Worf, he thought.

Bashir sighed. "I just wish we knew what they were up to, Chief."

"Can't quite tell with them, can we?"

The turbolift stopped on deck two before either one could continue the conversation. Bashir stepped out and headed down the corridor toward sickbay. He had work to do. Nearly all of his staff was present now. The small medical facility was crowded with nurses and medics, checking supplies and getting things ready in case there would be casualties when the Defiant caught up to the Klingon cruiser. In the commotion and the crowd, Bashir didn't even notice that Nurse Hausmann wasn't there.

The changeling worked frantically, forgetting form, but not awareness. She still had to take care not to be discovered or to have her work discovered prematurely. Everything had to be timed just right. It was a risky enterprise— more risky than some missions the Founders had undertaken— with no guarantee of success. But the prize would be worth it. It would give them an unprecedented doorway into the Alpha Quadrant and the Federation despite their recent setbacks.

Major Kira Nerys sat up a little straighter and arched her back to stretch it. She was starting to feel the tension build in her shoulders. It was a familiar feeling. With it came the adrenaline. She checked the time. One half hour until they reached the system. If that ship was headed toward Earth, they would intercept it there in thirty minutes. And Kira could feel a battle coming on.

That used to scare her, when she was younger. But she'd been fighting battles against the Cardassians since she was twelve. She'd taken her share of hits. She knew what to expect. She could feel herself growing more alert, more wary, but not afraid.

It was a little different, she had to admit, fighting here in this ship than it was on the ground. She wasn't sure which she preferred. The ship offered security and power. But it was also vulnerable. At least on a planet there was air to breathe. Put enough holes in a starship, and it wouldn't matter if you survived the gunfire. But then there were two other, larger ships out there to help. It was the Klingon ship that should be worried.

Leaning over her console again, she double-checked the diagnostics. Everything seemed to be in order. They'd have shields when necessary, and the weapons systems were online as well, though not yet fully-charged. That could wait a little while longer.

The waiting was the worst, Kira thought. She could stand the battle, the fighting, but she hated waiting for it to come. She sat back in her chair and looked over at Dax. Jadzia Dax, as always, had a perfectly calm look about her. If the tension ever got to her, she rarely ever let it show. Her eyes shifted from her console to the main viewscreen and back again.

Sisko, behind her, was staring silently at the screen, his fingers steepled in front of his chin. A half an hour was a long time to wait. "How are we doing, Old Man?" he asked.

"Same as ever, Benjamin," Dax replied without looking up, though her lips did turn up in just a hint of smile at the nickname.

Then suddenly the smile was gone. The captain hadn't seen it from where he was sitting, but Kira hadn't missed it. "What?" she asked, allowing a hint of impatience into her voice.

Dax looked up at her and then turned to Sisko. "They've changed course."

Kira had been nearly ready to stand up. But she sat back down. "They've been changing course."

"But this is different."

"Follow them, Commander," Captain Sisko said. He'd caught the confusion in his friend's voice. "Where are we heading?"

"To Sol," Dax replied. Her brows were furrowed.

"Isn't that where we were heading before?" Kira asked, looking to the captain for the answer.

He looked back to Dax. She met his gaze. "Not the system, Ben. The star."

Sisko touched a control beside his chair. "Senior officers to the bridge."

Sisko didn't look up as the turbolift began bringing the rest of his senior staff to the bridge. "Keep on them, Dax. I want to know if they change course again." She nodded smartly and turned back to her controls.

Now Sisko took the time to assess the room. Only O'Brien was missing. But even now the Chief of Operations was stepping out of the turbolift. "There's been a course change," the captain said calmly, watching for his staff's reactions. "We're now heading for the sun."

Worf was stoic. His expression didn't change. "There have been many suns along the way. Why this one?"

"We have less than thirty minutes to figure that out, Commander," Sisko replied evenly.

"They wouldn't be trying to destroy the star?" Kira threw out. She wouldn't put it past them. They'd tried it before with her own sun and a changeling impersonating Bashir.

Dax shook her head. "That would take more weapons than either of us have. There's no evidence of that kind of explosive," she added, realizing what Kira must have been thinking about.

"They wouldn't come all this way just to destroy themselves," Bashir added thoughtfully. "Maybe they're still heading for Earth."

Kira shot the doctor a look that told him he hadn't been listening. But Sisko knew he had been. Bashir just didn't always express himself in the most efficient manner. Sisko decided he should try and draw the doctor out before the major did. "What do you mean, Doctor?"

Bashir stared at the viewscreen. Dax had it set to the highest magnification, and the sun was just becoming visible. "Maybe they're not going to the sun. Maybe they're going around it."

Sisko thought he actually felt his heart sink a little lower in his chest. Around the sun.

"If Earth is prepared for them," Bashir continued, turning to the major, "they wouldn't stand a chance. Not against Earth's defenses. At least they'd have no chance now."

Dax had caught it, too, and she explained it for them all. "By setting the proper speed and trajectory around a star"— she took a deep breath— "ships have been known to travel through time."

The realization hit Kira hard. For a moment she just stared at Dax. Dax didn't really notice. She was already plotting the trajectory of the cloaked ship. "Major," Sisko snapped, not harshly, but enough to return her attention, "Get me Admiral Todman of Starfleet Command."

She nodded crisply and then turned back to her station.

"Ten seconds, Benjamin." It wasn't the Defiant she was referring to. The Klingon ship had to be nearing the sun.

"We need the exact trajectory, Dax," Sisko reminded her, though he knew he didn't really need to. "O'Brien, double-check it."

"Already on it, sir," O'Brien called out. Sisko nodded, satisfied. The all knew just how important this was.

"Five."

"I've got Todman," Kira called out.

"Have him wait." Sisko watched the viewscreen, even though he knew there was nothing to see. The Klingon ship was still cloaked.

"Two." Dax said. "One."

For the briefest instant there was a brilliant flash of light. But it was gone before they could even register that they'd seen it.

"They're gone, Benjamin."

Sisko wasted no time. "Trajectory?"

"Got it," Dax answered. O'Brien nodded.

It was time to talk to Starfleet Command. "On screen, Major."

Admiral Todman's image filled the screen. "We were monitoring, Captain."

"We're still on course, Admiral. Do we follow?"

"Someone has to, Captain, and you're the logical choice." He lowered his eyes for a moment and then brought them back up to meet the captain's. "You have less crew." His face grew more stern. "You also have a cloak."

Sisko nodded. The Lakota and the Venture each carried more than twice the compliment of the Defiant.

"The timeline must be protected," Todman went on. "They've got a head start. You'll want to figure that into your trajectory. Don't give them time to do any damage."

Sisko looked to Dax and O'Brien. "My officers are already working on it."

The Admiral continued, his voice grim. "That ship has gone too far, Captain. Destroy them. Todman out." Todman winked out and the sun was again on the viewscreen looming larger with each second.

"What have we got, Dax?"

"The chief and I have managed to trace their exact trajectory,"

"What if they changed it as they went around," Kira asked, "where our sensors couldn't read them?"

"They'd burn up," Bashir answered.

"Dax?"

"Should put them in the mid-twentieth century."

"Set course to follow."

Dax nodded and the stars on the viewscreen sped by even faster. The magnification dropped, pulling the sun farther from them, but it was catching up fast. "Time?"

"Twelve minutes," Dax replied curtly.

There was a hard set to the captain's face now. "Increase speed. Battle stations."

The changeling heard the klaxon. If she'd had lips, she would've smiled. But only a small smile. She had even more work to do now. Things were underway. She quickly closed the panel where she'd been working and then made her way down toward engineering. It took her several minutes to arrive at her destination. She allowed herself to slowly pour out and spread along the ceiling where she could see what was happening. There were only two solids working. O'Brien was not one of them. Apparently he was on the bridge with the other senior staff.

When both of the engineers had their backs to her, the shapeshifter silently dropped to the floor, forming herself into the now-familiar form of Lieutenant Whaley.

Crewman Wieland checked his station and tried not to be too nervous. Thomas is going to love this, he thought. But the butterflies just wouldn't go away. The captain hadn't said where they were heading exactly, but Wieland could read the charts. He knew about the maneuver. They were going around the sun, very close, and at warp. They were going to travel through time.

Given Starfleet's Temporal Displacement Policy, this was not something that was done very often. It was too dangerous, to both the ship and the timeline. The strain on a ship this size could tear it apart. Fortunately, the Defiant was more heavily armored then most ships this size. But it would still take quite a beating. "I think we'll be putting in some long hours after this," he said aloud and tried to laugh. He didn't really feel like laughing.

"Don't we already?" Crewman Armand asked without looking up. "Run a diagnostic on the stabilizers and inertial dampers. I don't want this ship to shake itself apart on our account."

"Right," Wieland acknowledged. Wieland had thought he could hear a hint of nerves in her voice as well. At least he wasn't alone. He let his shoulders drop just a little and was surprised at just how tight they'd been. He pushed his chair out and turned to stand up. Before he could turn all the way around, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He tried to turn his head, but the hand wrapped itself around his neck. He tried to call out to Armand, but only the slightest breath of air could escape the grip. He clawed at the arm that held him, but his fingers seemed to go right through it.

Patricia Armand tapped the fingers of her left hand on the console in front of her. It was a nervous habit, one she had tried to break. Most of the time she was successful, but at times like this when there was little to do but wait for whatever was making her nervous, she'd forget, and she would suddenly be tapping again.

Figures scrolled by on her screen at a dizzying pace. Trying to read them as they flew by was impossible, so she let her vision glaze over and watched the shapes of the figures as they crossed the screen. The computer would stop and point out any anomalous readings.

A loud thump brought her out of her reverie.

Whaley hardened her left hand again, tightening the grip on the engineer's neck until his eyes looked as if they would pop out of his head. So fragile, she mused and wondered why her people had thought to call them solid.

She glanced over to the other one. Armand. One of Whaley's friends. She still hadn't noticed. Though he struggled, the man had been unable to make a sound. She had let her arm grow soft, so that he couldn't get a grip to pull her hand away. Not that he would've been able to. A hand didn't have to be made of flesh and bone.

And then he kicked the console. Stupid! Whaley chided herself and jerked the chair farther from the console so that the man's flailing legs could no longer reach it. But the damage was done. She turned to face Armand. Before the woman could extract herself from her own chair, Whaley thrust out her right arm, and, letting go of the form, she let it lengthen and wrap around Armand's neck. She pulled back sharply, whipping the chair around until she could feel the vertebrae snap in the woman's neck. The chair continued to spin slowly as she released the woman. Her head fell back on the chair, and her arms hung limply from her shoulders.

Whaley returned her attention to the man. He, too, had ceased his struggle. His bulging eyes stared blankly up at her. She softened her hand, making it flesh once more and felt for a pulse. The man was dead.

"All hands," Captain Sisko's voice rang through every corridor and room of the ship. "Brace yourselves." Sisko's eyes were locked on the dimmed viewscreen ahead of him. No matter how many times he told himself that his ship was not going to burn up in the sun, it still looked like they were flying right into the middle of that large boiling ball of fire. It wasn't even really a ball anymore; it filled the screen from edge to edge.

"Ten," Dax called loudly. She still sounded perfectly professional, but Sisko could hear the apprehension in her voice.

O'Brien called out the speed. "Warp nine point seven. Nine point eight."

"Five seconds," Dax warned.

"Nine point nine." The ship was shaking so hard the Chief had to yell.

"Two. One. . . ."

If she said "zero", Sisko didn't hear it. The sun blazed bright, drowning the bridge in its light, until the colored readouts on the consoles and stations all around him were no longer visible. For the slightest instant, Sisko thought he could make out Dax's silhouette moving in slow motion against the blinding light. And then all was blackness.

Julian Bashir slowly raised his head from the biobed. Nurse Baines lay beside him, her arms dangling off the opposite side of the bed. She began to move as well. Blowing out a deep breath, Bashir set his feet on the floor and stood up. The rest of his staff began to do the same. They'd all braced themselves against the biobeds and had fallen across them side by side when they blacked out.

Bashir placed a hand to his stomach and frowned. "Well, that was fun," he said, being sarcastic. His stomach felt like it was turning somersaults.

Baines tried to give him a wry smile, but her stomach was apparently bothering her as well.

"Is everyone nauseous?" Bashir asked. Everyone nodded.

Kira Nerys lifted her head from the console quickly, ignoring the dizziness she felt. She turned, counting the crewmembers on the bridge, watching for just a moment to see if they were beginning to move. Dax sat up and put her hand against her stomach. Her other hand immediately went to her console. Kira looked at the main viewscreen where the star had loomed so brightly before. It was still dimmed— or the sensors had been knocked out— because she couldn't make out any stars there.

"Damage report." Sisko was awake, too. "Where are we, Dax?" he asked as he pulled himself back into his chair.

Dax checked her readings again. "Right where we should be. Calculating in a slight time difference, I used the Klingon ship's same trajectory. They are headed for Earth, Benjamin. Or at least they will be."

"So we are here before them?" Kira asked. The stars had reappeared on the viewscreen as more of the crew managed to pull themselves up from the floor and return to their stations.

"I'm not picking up their ion signature. But we're definitely on a heading toward Earth."

Sisko nodded. "We're at the right place, but are we at the right time? Major, check the astrometric readings."

Kira turned back to her console. She had to press a few controls before the station even came online.

"Minor damage only, sir," O'Brien was saying from the Engineering station. "I'm reading a minor fluctuation in the warp core— stabilized. She seems to have held up pretty well, considering."

Sisko didn't say anything, but nodded his acknowledgment. "Major?"

"Mid-twentieth century. Right where we wanted. 1943, to be specific."

"Are the weapons online, Mr. Worf?"

Kira had forgotten that Worf was on the bridge. "Online and charged, Captain."

"Good," Sisko said gravely, "Activate cloaking device. Dax, continue to scan for that ship. Commander Worf, prepare a full spread of quantum torpedoes. Major, as soon as they're in range, we'll decloak, lock on the ship and fire those torpedoes."

There were acknowledgments all around the bridge as everyone set to work. Kira had turned back to the tactical station. "Bashir to Bridge," the doctor's soft accented voice came over the communications system.

"Go ahead, Doctor," Sisko answered.

"We've got some minor injuries," the doctor reported. "Nothing to worry about. How's everyone up there?"

Sisko glanced around the room. "Not too bad."

"Yes, we were all a bit nauseous at first, but it seems to fade fairly quickly."

"Doctor, we're going to try to take this ship out fast, but be ready just in case we take a few hits of our own."

"Yes, sir. Bashir out."

"Shall I establish orbit, Benjamin?" Dax asked. Kira looked up to the viewscreen to see a blue and turquoise marble-like planet with swirling white clouds. Unlike most of the other times she'd seen it though, there were no satellites or space stations hovering around it. Only one small moon circled it slowly.

"Yes, but keep us on the daylight side, Old Man," the Captain answered. "I don't want anyone seeing us in the night sky when we decloak."

From Engineering, Lieutenant Whaley had access to nearly any system on the ship. She knew they were in orbit now circling Earth with no one to detect them. She also knew they were cloaked, but it wouldn't really matter in the end. The ship was practically disabled already, and no one even knew it.

Without the space-time driver coil, the warp drive was useless. Removing it hadn't been hard once the two engineers were taken care of. She'd sealed the doors with security force-fields so that she wouldn't be interrupted by anyone else. Of course, once the force-fields were discovered, they'd be on to her. But she expected that all would be accomplished before then.

Standing in front of the main console, Whaley rerouted more power to the external communications antennae. She checked again to make sure that diagnostics on the bridge would not register the excess power. The sling-shot effect that had taken them around the sun and back through time had worked to her advantage. There were minor system problems throughout the ship. They would serve to mask some of her own work if found. No one would suspect a saboteur. At least, not yet.

"I've got them on long-range sensors, Benjamin," Dax said, excitedly. "They're not cloaked."

"Their cloak might have shorted out on the way here," Sisko said watching the viewscreen. "On screen. Go to red alert."

The bridge was bathed in soft light, and the ship was silent as they waited.

"They're cloaking." This time, Dax's voice was just barely above a whisper.

Sisko was eerily calm when he spoke, "Stand by," though inside his stomach wrenched— and it wasn't the trip around the sun. As much as he was sure this ship was a threat to Earth— an Earth that could not possibly defend itself— he hated to just blow a ship out of the sky without trying to reason with them first. It just wasn't his way. It wasn't Starfleet's way, either. But those ways had not worked yet with the Dominion, either. And one didn't stop to discuss a battle in the middle of a war. "On Dax's mark, drop cloak, raise shields and fire those torpedoes." He looked over his crew, getting nods from everyone to show that they were ready. "Dax, bring us around."

"Aye, sir." Dax spun the ship slowly to the left, and the blue planet slipped to the other side of the viewscreen. "They've slowed to impulse. They're scanning us."

"Are we in range?" the captain asked.

"Not yet." Dax was intent on her readings. "I'm feeding you the coordinates, Kira." Only her hands moved on the console in front of her. There was a long moment of silence. "Mark!" she called.

Instantly the lights on the bridge went up as the cloak dropped. Shields were raised and Kira released the full spread of torpedoes at the same moment. The white lights of the torpedoes streaked across the blackness of space toward the Klingon ship. And then they struck in a series of large fireballs that caused the other ship to explode into uncountable fragments. As the fire was extinguished by the vacuum around it, small bits of gleaming metal could be seen sparkling in the light from the nearby sun.

"Engage cloak," Sisko ordered quietly. "Maximum magnification, Old Man."

The lights fell again to their lower level as the cloak began to disguise the ship. The viewscreen shifted, bringing them closer to that part of space that had just erupted. A large sphere of scattered debris was slowly expanding as the chunks of metal spread out from the center.

"Any organic remains?" He hoped her answer was no. There was little reason for it to be yes. If the ship had been carrying Founders, there would be nothing organic to find.

"Nothing, Benjamin," was the reply.

Sisko let out a long breath. "Good. Let's go home."

Whaley stood in Engineering shocked by what she'd just seen. She hated them. And she hated herself. She hadn't been ready. No, she told herself sharply, it was Sisko's fault. And that doctor's. A minute more and the weapons system would have been disabled as well. A minute more. Just one minute.

She felt sick when she thought of the lives lost. So many of her people. Forty-six of her people, people she knew. She'd shared their thoughts in the Great Link. She'd felt their fears and their determination. They were her family, her people. And they were gone.

". . . not responding," Dax thought aloud. She was looking down at her console, rerouting controls and power flows, but the warp drive simply refused to respond.

"Why aren't we moving, Old Man?" Sisko asked behind her.

"It's not responding, Benjamin," she answered, still pressing controls. "I've run a level two diagnostic. I can't find anything wrong with it, but the warp drive just isn't responding."

"Maybe that maneuver knocked us around a bit more than we thought," O'Brien suggested. He walked over to Dax and looked over her shoulder. "May I?"

"Go right ahead, Chief."

There was a low growl from the back of the room. Dax turned toward the sound. Worf was frowning at his console as well. "The weapons system is also offline."

"I don't think we need them anymore," Kira commented.

Worf growled again. "I had not yet taken them offline," he nearly spat back.

"Chief?"

Sisko would pay. And that doctor, too. If she hadn't been forced to take on the nurse's persona, she would have been prepared. The weapons would not have fired. He'd pay for his curiosity. She would see to that. No matter what.

She tried to think, to concentrate. She couldn't return home. The solids would find the two engineers and know that something was wrong. They would search the ship again and find her handiwork. They would find her eventually and kill her like they'd killed all the others.

A cold hatred filled her. The solids would not leave this time. She could destroy the ship. It would not be hard to breach the containment field from here. But she rejected the idea quickly. Her logical side told her that it was so that she could take this ship back to her own time and rejoin the Great Link. Without the solids, of course. The other side of her, the side that yearned for their suffering, told her that a warp-core breach was not enough for what they had done.

Whaley pulled her long arm free of the conduit and stepped back. She only had a few minutes. They would know about her soon enough. She left the force-fields intact and pulled herself up to the ceiling and into a ventilation duct. She had five minutes to get to the shuttle craft. It would take them that long to get into Engineering. By then it would be too late.

Chief Miles Edward O'Brien was perplexed. All the diagnostic systems said the ship was fine. But now the shields and the cloak were offline as well. "O'Brien to Engineering," he called. There was no answer. "Now that's odd."

"What is it, Chief?" Captain Sisko asked. O'Brien could tell he was starting to get annoyed by all this.

"No one's answering in Engineering," the Chief answered. "Armand and Wieland should be down there." He sighed and gathered up his tool kit. "I'd better go down and check it out."

O'Brien just didn't understand it. At least the turbolifts work, he thought, as the lift began to move. He'd checked the ship out himself before they took off. It was fine. The only reason he could think of for why they were having problems like these was sabotage. But who on the ship would be a saboteur? The last time they'd had that problem, it had turned out to be a changeling, but the crew checked out and so did the ship.

The lift stopped and O'Brien stepped out. There wasn't a sound anywhere. The doors to Engineering opened for him, but as he tried to step through he was pushed back by a light electric shock. A force-field? O'Brien tested it with his hand one more time for good measure and then called the bridge.

"This is Sisko. What's going on, Chief?"

"There's a bloody force-field keeping me out of Engineering," the chief replied incredulously. "I'm attempting to override."

"We'll see what we can do from here, Chief," Sisko told him. "I'm sending some security down there."

O'Brien peered through the open door. He couldn't see Armand or Wieland anywhere. Engineering was empty.

"Computer," O'Brien stated, "locate Crewman Armand."

"Crewman Armand is no longer on board," the computer droned in reply.

"Locate Crewman Wieland."

"Crewman Wieland is no longer on board."

There was really only one way they could have left.

"O'Brien to Transporter Room." He waited for a response. Again, there was only silence.

"Computer," O'Brien asked, "how many crewmembers are currently on board the ship?" He was afraid he wouldn't like the answer.

"There are currently thirty-six crewmembers on board the Defiant."

That wasn't nearly enough. O'Brien was just about to call the bridge again when the ship began to shake violently. He heard several explosions, and then the lights dimmed in the corridor. Plasma conduit, he thought. We've lost main power. And then something clicked. If they'd lost main power, then they would have also lost the force-fields.

O'Brien tested the open door to Engineering again, and his hand passed right through.

"Sisko to O'Brien," Sisko snapped. This was turning out to be a bad day. The Klingon ship hadn't been able to get off a single shot, but now the Defiant was disabled. And they were disabled four hundred years before the ship was even commissioned.

"O'Brien here, sir," the chief replied. Sisko was happy to hear his voice. It meant they somehow still had internal communications at least.

"We've just lost main power, Chief."

"Yes, sir, I know. But we've lost more than that. Last I checked, there were only thirty-six crew members aboard this vessel."

Sisko wasn't sure he'd heard that right. Thirty-six members of a crew of forty-seven. Where could they all have gone?

"We're losing emergency power, Captain," Dax interrupted. "Down to seventy percent and falling."

"Cut power to anything that is not essential," Sisko ordered. "Could the computer be malfunctioning, Chief?"

"It's possible, sir," Chief O'Brien answered. Sisko could hear the agitation in his voice. "It looks like the whole systems been shot to— " The chief broke off there. Sisko was about to ask him what had happened, but the chief was back before he had a chance. "Bloody hell!"

"Dax to Bashir."

Bashir had been tending to a cut on one of the medics' arms when the call came. "Bashir here," he answered. "What is going on, Jadzia?"

"Sorry, no time to explain," Dax's voice answered. "We're losing power. We've got to cut everything we can. I'm going to have to shut down your stasis unit."

Bashir shook his head in confusion. "I'm not using any of the stasis units." He began to walk toward the wall where the stasis units were. Small instruments and vials were scattered on the floor from the explosion, and he tried not to trip on them in the low light.

"We're showing a drain from there."

Julian opened the tricorder he had in his hand and scanned the units. Despite the readout on the front of the unit, the center one was drawing power. And it was occupied. "My God!" Bashir exclaimed. "Someone's in there, Jadzia." He pressed the release control but the drawer didn't open.

"Julian?"

Whoever was in there, he knew he hadn't authorized it. That sinking feeling he'd had at the beginning of this trip began to grow again. "Cut the power, Jadzia," he decided, half-afraid of what he would find inside.

"Julian, are you alright?" Dax asked.

Julian didn't answer right away, but watched his tricorder as the power to the unit fell off to nothing. Instantly there was a muffled sound from the drawer. Someone was trying to get out. "Someone's in the drawer, Jadzia." He reached his hand out toward the release. "I'm going to open— "

Before his hand had touched the door, a familiar tingling grabbed his body, and he was unable to move.

"Julian, I'm reading a transporter signal in your area. Julian?"

The medic who had been standing behind him saw the doctor's figure fade and his tricorder fall to the ground. He brought his hand up to his chest, activating his comm badge. "Emergency!" he called. "The doctor's just been transported."

Dax spun around to face the captain. But he was already standing by her side. "Hold it, Chief," he said over the comm system. He looked to Dax. "Where did it come from?" he asked quickly.

Dax turned back to her console and began furiously pressing controls, trying to get the sensors to cooperate. "One of the shuttles, Benjamin." She studied her readouts a bit harder.

"Security to shuttle bay." Sisko ordered. Without waiting for a confirmation he turned to Kira. "Hail that shuttle, Major."

"I can't, sir. Communications are still out."

"Internals aren't," Sisko countered. "Is the shuttle still on board?"

"Captain," O'Brien called, still over the comm line, "it's a changeling."

Everyone on the bridge froze when they heard that. But only for a second. "How do you know, Chief?"

There wasn't time for the chief to answer. Another explosion rocked the ship, much stronger than the ones before. Sisko was thrown to the floor. Warning sirens and lights began to flash. The computer was finally ready to acknowledge that it was damaged.

"Damage report."

"We've got a hull breach!" Dax called out. "The shuttle bay. We do have emergency force-fields at least." She struggled with the controls again. "It looks like three casualties, Benjamin. I can't be sure though."

"Send a medical team there," Sisko ordered, getting to his feet. "You were saying, Chief?"

"It's those parasitic devices again, like they used a few years back." He hesitated for a moment. "Sir, this is a mess. I'm not quite sure where to start."

That was a good question. Where to start? There had to be clues in that shuttle as to the whereabouts of the missing crewmembers. He only hoped they hadn't been blown out into space when the hull breached. But even more important at this point was regaining control of this ship. The devices the changeling had used before, when they had nearly sparked a war with the Tzenkethi, had spread from system to system. "Get rid of those devices, Chief," Sisko decided. "And then start with the most important systems. Make sure we still have life-support and then get main power back online." And then he remembered, "Take someone with you, Chief. No one goes anywhere alone."

Sisko turned back to Dax. He really didn't need her at the helm anymore. The ship wasn't going anywhere. "Dax, run a scan for all lifeforms on this ship. See if we're losing any more people."

Dax nodded and returned to her console.

Next, he looked to Kira. "Major, you and Mr. Worf should go and check out the shuttle bay. I want to know if the changeling was on that shuttle when it blew."

Kira nodded and then rose to leave her seat. Worf followed her to the turbolift without a word.

Sisko sat back in his chair and thought for a moment. He worried about the time. "Anything, Dax?"

Dax shook her head. "We're holding at twenty-seven lifeforms."

Twenty-seven. Three known dead. Seventeen missing. Or sixteen if one of them was a changeling. Too many. There were only two places they could have gone: the cold vacuum of space or the planet that spun below them. Sisko looked up to the viewscreen to see the Earth, but it was blank. "External sensors?" he asked.

Dax shook her head again. "They're gone."

Sisko slammed a fist down on the arm of his chair. "We're going to need those sensors, Dax, to find our people."

She turned to look at him, but didn't say anything. He could see the worry in her eyes. And something else. Like she wanted to say something. "What is it, Old Man?"

"The first night out," she began, "he. . . ." She hesitated and Sisko decided she was talking about Bashir. "He'd been going on about one of the blood samples. It was different from the others. But it was still blood, still human."

"Apparently it found a way around the blood screening," Sisko thought aloud. Then another thought struck him. "Dax, what was going on with the stasis unit?"

Dax looked confused, like she couldn't see what he was getting at. "He said it wasn't in use, but it was drawing power. I was going to shut it down. He said there was someone inside, but he couldn't open it. He was about to try it when he...." She stopped again.

"We'll find him," Sisko admonished her. "The question is, who was in the unit?" Sisko tapped his comm badge. "Sisko to sickbay."

"Sickbay here. Any sign of the doctor?" It was the medic that had called earlier.

"None yet. Sensors are out," Sisko answered. He thought it best not to go into all the details just yet. "Did you find out who was in the stasis unit?"

"Yes, sir," the answer came back. "It's Nurse Hausmann."

But how long was she in the unit before Dax noticed it on the bridge? "Is she alright?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, fine. She was sedated. She's still a little groggy."

"I'll need to ask her some questions. I'll be right down."

The bridge was nearly deserted. But it didn't matter. Dax was waiting for his next decision. "Still twenty-seven?" he asked. She checked the readings and nodded. "Let's go have a talk with Nurse Hausmann."