Julian Bashir was rather glad when Doctor Hensing left. He knew the doctor had been transferred to DS Nine to replace him. He was the one who told Sisko to do it. But he still resented the proprietary way that Hensing had moved around equipment in the Infirmary--his Infirmary. He didn't like the way Hensing had complained about it or gave orders to his staff. This place was home to him; the staff was his family. It didn't feel right seeing someone else in possession of his home or lording over his family. And Hensing had made no effort to hide his disdain for his first patient, who also happened to be his predecessor.

Doctor Girani was better. She was from Bajor and had been stationed on DS Nine for a while. She and he had worked well together in the past. She didn't seem to feel a need to take over anything, and she didn't care if Bashir was genetically enhanced or not. She only wanted to help, to do her duty as a doctor. That was, fortunately, one thing Bashir couldn't fault Hensing for. He did his duty whether he liked his patient or not. And two doctors were better than one, he supposed. But he was still relieved when Hensing was called away to the Defiant.

He was left alone with Doctor Girani, an amiable, if serious, woman. She spoke to Julian while she ran the tests, sometimes about Julian and his perception of his condition, and other times about life in her home province on Bajor. Yet, when the computer informed them that it was 2100 hours, Doctor Girani had still not found the cause of Bashir's problem. In fact, just as with the tests Julian had run himself, everything came up normal. According to the computer, there was nothing physically wrong with Bashir. Hensing, while he had remained aboard the station, had come to the same conclusions.

"Well," Girani said, holding out a hand to Bashir and helping him to sit up. "I haven't been able to find anything wrong with you. We've been at it for hours. I think it's time to call it a night. I've spoken to Counselor Dax--" Bashir sighed loudly, which caused Girani to stop and rethink what she was saying. "I'm not saying that what is happening is psychosomatic or anything. I believe your problem is real. But if we can't find any physical reasons for it, I think we should look to mental reasons. If we want to find the solution, we have to look at all the possibilities. Agreed?"

Bashir sighed again. He really didn't like seeing Ezri as a counselor. You had to open up for counselors to do any good, and O'Brien had been right the other night. He had learned to keep things secret. It made it hard, even unpleasant, to open up. Still, he couldn't find fault in what Girani was saying. It made a lot of sense. "Agreed," he said quietly. "You don't think it could be a side effect of the enhancements? Something gone wrong with them? Or maybe, my friend suggested it might be something left over from a Lethian attack several years ago."

Girani seemed to consider those for a moment. "You go see Dax in the morning, and I'll go over the results from the tests we took today and see if anything fits those hypotheses. Deal?"

"Deal," Bashir said, shaking Girani's hand. He didn't feel any better however. They were, as yet, no closer to finding an answer, and very far from finding a solution. In fact, Julian was beginning to think more and more that there was no solution.

Girani turned away and Jabara approached. "May I have the honor of walking you home?" she asked with a smile. He could see the sincerity in her eyes. She was trying to be nice, to show she hadn't forgotten about him or moved on just because he'd been replaced. It was very thoughtful, but it wasn't enough.

"Thank you," Julian told her, "but I think I'd rather be alone right now. I'll just look for the numbers. I'll find it." He got down off the bed and started for the door.

"Doctor?" she called after him.

He turned. "There's not much point in calling me that anymore," he told her.

She met him at the door. "I'll always call you that," she replied. "You've earned it." She took his hand in hers and locked her eyes with his. "Don't let this discourage you. This may look bad now, but you shouldn't give up hope. I'm Bajoran. We know about hope. You should listen to me on this."

She smiled and he couldn't help but smile, too. But it was a sad smile. "I'm sorry I'm leaving you to Hensing."

"You're not leaving us," she said. "Besides, I've had worse." She kissed him on the cheek. "And I've definitely had better."

"I could never have lasted here without you," he told her.

"I know," she replied. "Now, go get something to eat. Then try and rest. Your appointment with Dax is at 0900 hours. I'll have the computer remind you."

"Thanks." He left her then and couldn't help but feel that the Promenade looked different now. It didn't really, he knew. It had to be the same as it was earlier that morning or the day before. But he felt like an outsider now, like he didn't belong anymore.

He had a moment's panic when he couldn't decide which airlock to take to get to the Habitat Ring closest to his quarters. He regretted not having taken Jabara up on her offer of escort. But it was too late now. He couldn't see the Infirmary from where he was. He closed his eyes, trying the technique that had worked that morning. He remembered the way, he was sure of it. He could see images. Odo's office, the airlock, the crossover bridge and the Habitat Ring. But he couldn't quite see if the airlock was the one nearest Odo's office, or if the section of the Habitat Ring was his section.

They all led to the Habitat Ring, he reasoned. He can get to it. Then he can just look for the numbers that identified his quarters. He might have to walk around the whole ring, but he'd find it eventually.

An hour later, he still hadn't found his quarters and panic was building. What if he weren't even on the right level? Maybe he didn't remember his section. The corridor ahead of him was deserted, just as it was behind him. There was no one to help. He sat down, leaning back against the wall, and tried to calm himself. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the numbers on his door, but they were fuzzy and he couldn't make them out. He reached up and touched a panel on the wall. "Computer," he said, trying to keep his voice low, "locate Doctor Bashir's quarters."

The computer began to answer, "Doctor Bashir's quarters are located at Habitat Level--"

Another voice drowned out the computer's. "Doctor?"

Julian turned to see Jake Sisko. He had a confused, concerned look about him. He seemed taller, too, as he caught up to Bashir. But Bashir decided it was just because he felt smaller today. Or maybe he was, in fact, smaller. If the enhancements were coming undone, it was a possibility, he guessed. He wasn't sure if it was actually possible to shrink or not.

"Are you alright?" Jake asked.

Bashir was jolted back to the present and the corridor that looked like all the other corridors. He decided to be honest. Pride be damned. He was hungry and tired and only wanted to be home. He needed Jake's help. "No, I'm not alright."

Jake suddenly looked nervous and he pushed his hands into his pockets. "I, uh, heard about. . . ."

"I'm sure everyone has by now," Bashir told him. "Or they will soon enough."

"You're lost, aren't you?" Jake asked, sitting down beside him.

Julian felt nervous too, but he had made up his mind. He needed someone and Jake was right there. "Yes. I can't find my quarters. Everything looks the same."

"I know," Jake said, smiling and seeming a bit more at ease. "I felt the same way when I first got here. I can walk with you, if you like."

Bashir sighed with a measure of relief. He still felt awkward having to be dependent on someone, especially someone as young as Jake. But the fact was, at the moment, he was dependent. "Thank you, Jake."

Jake smiled and stood up, extending a hand to help Bashir up. "It's the least I could do. I remember you once walking outside with me after a rather long day filled with blood and death."

"I remember," Bashir said, deciding he didn't want Jake to go into detail. He did remember their little adventure together on Ajilon Prime when the Klingons were attacking.

With Jake leading the way, they reached Bashir's quarters in less than ten minutes. The door slid open and Bashir was relieved to see the familiar furnishings and Kukalaka welcoming him.

But Jake didn't leave right away. "Do you have anywhere to go tomorrow?" he asked.

"I have to see Dax at," he began, but lost his words. What time? "At. . . ."

"Maybe I could come by and walk you there," Jake suggested. "You know, I'm not doing anything else. I write. I don't have duty shifts like everyone else. I can help. If you need to go someplace and you need help, you could just call me." And then he added, with a smile, "I could be your valet."

Julian thought about it. One person. He wouldn't have to ask anyone else. Just one. And he was a friend. Then he remembered. "The computer!" he said. "Jabara said she'd have the computer remind me. Jake, do you want some dinner?" It seemed silly for them to stand there in the corridor.

Jake's smile widened. "Sure."

Once inside, Jake seemed to take to the duties he'd set for himself. "Computer," he said, "review Doctor Bashir's schedule for tomorrow."

"One appointment," the computer intoned. "0900 hours. Counselor Dax."

"0900," Bashir repeated dourly. "That should be easy to remember."

"I can remember for you," Jake suggested eagerly.

"Why?" Bashir asked, suddenly giving Jake his full attention. "Why do you want to do this? Do you think it will be good for a story?"

Jake dropped his smile and went back to being nervous. "No," he was quick to say. "I won't write a thing about it, honest." He held up one hand to show his sincerity. "I just want to help, that's all. We . . . we work together. We have. Sometimes. You need help, and I can help. I'm just being nice, that's all."

"I didn't mean to sound angry," Julian said, trying to calm him. "I'm . . . I don't like this. I don't like not being able to find my quarters or forgetting where I'm supposed to be tomorrow. Or waking up and not being able to read. This is hard."

"I understand that," Jake said, stepping forward, "which is why I want to help. You've helped me when I was sick. Someone should help you when you're sick."

Bashir had been leaning back against the table. He leaned forward now and stood up. "I wish it was as simple as being sick. What would you like to eat?"

"Whatever you're having would be fine." Jake sat down on the couch then. "Did the doctors find out what was wrong?"

Bashir finished ordering his food from the replicator and then answered. "No. All the tests came out normal. That's why I'm supposed to see Dax. See if it's something in my head."

"They don't think you're imagining it, do they?" Jake asked, leaning forward.

"I don't know about Hensing," Bashir answered as he removed the plates from the replicator and placed them on the table. He motioned for Jake to join him there. "I don't think he likes me. Girani says she believes me. Can you come by tomorrow, before my appointment?"

Jake smiled. "Yeah, ten minutes before. Will that be enough?"

"I don't know," Bashir answered. "I don't know where Dax's office is."

 

Doctor Hensing sighed as he entered his quarters. They were tiny, more so than on any other starship he'd been posted to. Still, he was glad for the brightness of the walls. The gray of the station was not appealing to him. Besides, he liked being on a starship. At least then he was moving. The station was too stationary. He liked to be on the move.

Either way, he was exhausted. Despite Bashir's present state, he had been a brilliant doctor. And that brilliance--artificial or not--meant that he had left extensive notes on just about everything, which Hensing was now responsible for reviewing in order to treat the large number of residents and transients of the station. There was, of course, a smaller population on the Defiant, but there were still plenty of files to go through for the ship. That and there were wounded from the skirmish earlier in the day. Between those two factors, he'd been busy since he first stepped onboard the little ship. Maybe the workload had finally rattled Bashir too much. He hadn't found anything physically wrong with the man.

It was late now, nearly midnight. He'd gotten all the patients stabilized for now and left word with the staff in Sickbay to call him if they needed him. They seemed a competent bunch. He supposed they had to be. Bashir had been Chief Medical Officer of both Deep Space Nine and the Defiant. One or the other had had to do without him at any given time. The staff missed Bashir, though, that was clear. Hensing had never liked stepping into a new post, especially if the previous doctor was well-liked. He preferred starting out fresh with his staff. One just can't compete with the predecessor in situations like this. The staff was polite enough, but Hensing sensed they were all hoping Bashir would be back someday. He hoped so, too. He wanted a starship.

"You take what you get," he told himself as he climbed up onto the top bunk, "when you're in Starfleet. Computer, lights out."

Fifteen minutes later the call came. "Sickbay to Doctor Hensing."

Hensing groaned but answered the call. "Hensing here. What's the problem?"

"Ensign Wagner, Doctor. He's waking up."

Hensing smiled. Wagner had been in a coma since his head injury four hours earlier. "Good," he said. "His vitals back up to normal?"

"Yes, Doctor, except blood pressure is a little low."

"How--" He was going to ask how low, but a high-pitched whine stopped him. "What's that?" he asked aloud, momentarily forgetting the comm line was open.

"What's what, Doctor?" the nurse asked on the other end.

"It stopped," Hensing told her. "Never mind, how low is Wagner's press--" That was as far as he got. The words stuck in his throat when the first shock hit. His fingers clutched the edges of the thin mattress beneath him. The bunk lit up; he lit up. He could actually see the tendrils of electricity as they forked around him. But he couldn't call out for help. He couldn't even get a breath, though he tried.

"Doctor?" the nurse's voice was now excited. "Doctor?"

But Hensing didn't answer. The electricity receded and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

"What happened?" Sisko asked, looking down at the unconscious doctor. He couldn't help thinking that he was losing too many of them these days. And in such strange ways.

"I don't know," the nurse told him. "I was talking to him over the comm system, updating him on one of the patients. He got distracted at one point, but I couldn't tell what it was. Then he seemed to choke. When he didn't answer, I sent a medical team to him. They found him unconscious on the floor. But besides bruises, supposedly from falling out of his bunk, I can't find anything wrong with him. No head trauma, no nothing. He shouldn't be unconscious."

"You tried stimulants?" he suggested.

She shook her head. "Only mild ones," she said. "No effect. I'm afraid to try anything stronger since we don't know what we're dealing with."

Sisko placed his hands on the foot of the biobed. He leaned over toward the nurse. His voice now held a slightly conspiratorial tone. "What would Bashir do?" he asked.

She smiled for a moment and then sighed. "He's stable, nothing apparently wrong with him. I think Doctor Bashir would wait for him to wake up and ask him what happened."

Sisko straightened and nodded. "Fine. Notify me as soon as he wakes up."

"0830 hours," the computer intoned. "You have one appointment. 0900 hours. Counselor Dax."

Julian Bashir's eyes flew open and the last images of the nightmare faded away. The lightning dreams had been gone for a while. The old nightmares were back again, sharing time with the new ones where Jules and Julian fought for control of his mind. As frightening as the old nightmares were, he almost welcomed them for their familiarity. Almost. He yawned, stretched his limbs and then got up out of bed.

After his shower, he went to his closet. His first instinct was to grab his uniform. But then he remembered. He was off duty. Indefinitely. There was no reason to wear the uniform. He felt a slow pain in his stomach as he left it hanging there and opted for another suit. He got dressed and pinned his comm badge onto his jacket. Finished with his appearance, he headed out to the living room, which also served as a dining room. The replicator was against the right wall, just behind the table. He walked over to it, ready to order his breakfast and then abruptly stopped.

His stomach growled but he couldn't satisfy it. He stared at the device on the wall as if he hadn't ever seen it before. There were many illuminated controls of different colors and shapes on it and one large, gaping hole where he supposed food would come out. He stared at it, looking into the hole. He didn't see any food. He had a thought that he shouldn't expect to. But he was hungry and he wasn't sure what to do now.

Then the realization hit. Food was supposed to come from there, but he no longer knew how to operate it. He had lost more of his mind in the few hours he had slept. More knowledge gone. More abilities. More of Julian. He walked away from the table and moved to his desk, hoping that he still knew how to work his logs. He could ask the computer about that.

"Computer," he said, trying to get his voice to even out, "I want to record my personal log."

"Log open," the computer said cooperatively.

Julian sighed, and tried to think how to begin. His name. He should give his name. "Personal log," he said. "Julian Bashir." He thought about adding his post, but then decided against it, since Hensing now had his post. But he remembered you were supposed to say the date. "Stardate. . . ." He didn't know the stardate. Stardates were complicated. Maybe the computer would help him again. "Computer, what's the stardate?"

"The stardate is 52238.4," the computer's female voice answered.

"Stardate 52238.4," Bashir repeated. "Whatever is wrong with me has gotten worse. It appears to be progressing quickly, though we still don't know what it is. I think I do know, though. I think I said it before, but I'm not sure now. I think my enhancements are reversing themselves. I'm not sure how. I can't think like that anymore. I hope it's not really the answer.

"Maybe I'm being selfish. Maybe it's unfair. I didn't deserve the advantages I have been given. I don't deserve them now. I thought Jules Bashir was dead. But it seems he's coming back. It was his life after all. I was the one who stole it and tried to make it my own. I suppose it's some sort of justice. Fate, if one believes in such a thing. Julian Bashir will fade in place of Jules, who faded for Julian."

He bent over to put his face in his hands. "God, I hope not. There's still so much that Julian can do. I've contributed a lot, haven't I? Redeemed myself, paid for my advantages? How many people have I saved from suffering? I found a vaccine for the Blight, found antidotes for plagues and epidemics. I've tried to use what I have to help people. Given a full life, I could do more. There's a lot of potential in an enhanced mind."

He heard a sound, but was unsure what it meant. "End log," he said quickly. The noise came again. "What is that?" he asked no one in particular. He sighed when he realized it was something else he'd lost. "It would have been easier," he muttered to himself, "if I didn't know what I was losing."

Jake stopped in front of Bashir's door and checked the time. 0845. He was early. Still, that wasn't likely a bad thing. Bashir tended to be a very punctual person. He touched the door chime and waited for an answer. There wasn't one. He tried again and then, when there still wasn't and an answer, he tried his comm badge. "Jake Sisko to Doctor Bashir."

The answer came quickly. "Bashir here."

"I'm at the door, Doctor," Jake told him.

"Is that what that sound was?"

Jake's eyebrows raised in surprise. How could the other doctors still say that Bashir was normal? He was changing so quickly. The door opened.

"Good morning," Bashir said, but with an expression that denied his words. He gestured with his hand that Jake should come inside. "Is it time to leave?"

"Not yet," Jake answered, smiling. He wanted to put Bashir at ease somehow, if only by being a friendly face he could count on. "I'm a little early."

Bashir bit his bottom lip, and Jake thought he looked like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should. Jake tried to think what it might be to save Bashir from having to ask. Thankfully, Bashir was dressed and shaved. Jake wasn't sure if he was ready for helping someone with those things. Bashir probably wouldn't be allowed to live on his own here on the station if he came to that anyway. He looked ready to go. "Have you had breakfast?" Jake asked.

"Yes," Bashir answered. "We should probably just go now."

Hensing began to sense the light on the other side of his eyelids. Morning. The computer must have turned on the lights for him. He was still tired. Stayed up too late, I guess, he thought. Tired or not, he had patients. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the ceiling of the little bunk just a few feet from his face. But that wasn't what he saw. The ceiling was several meters above him. He turned his head. Sickbay. How did he get in Sickbay? A nurse--Baines was her name--came over. She nodded to one of the other nurses and then stood beside his bed. "Good morning, Doctor. How do you feel?"

"What happened?" he asked her, starting to sit up.

"You should probably stay down, Doctor," she said, putting a hand on his chest. He was wearing a hospital gown. He was a patient. He did as she said and let his head fall back again on the pillow. It felt good. He was really tired.

"What happened?" he repeated.

"We were hoping you could tell us that." Baines was checking the instrument displays above his head. Hensing turned his own head to try and get a look. It was an awkward position, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. "You were unconscious when we found you in your quarters."

"Unconscious?" That didn't sound right. "I went to sleep. That's all I remember."

"Maybe you fell out of the bunk?" Baines suggested, smiling down at him.

Hensing tried to remember. "I don't remember falling."

"What do you remember?" That was a new voice, but one he recognized. It was important to recognize your commanding officer's voice. Captain Sisko had just entered Sickbay. Apparently, that's what Baines had nodded to the other nurse about.

"I remember going to bed. It was midnight, I think," Hensing told him, trying to remember if he'd fallen out of his bunk. He yawned before he could catch himself. "May I ask what time it is?"

"It's 0846," Baines supplied.

"0846," Hensing repeated in wonder. How had that happened? "The computer was supposed to wake me at 0600." He yawned again. He couldn't help it. He was really tired. Maybe he had been unconscious. "But I remember being asleep," he argued with himself and with Baines. "I remember dreaming about. . . ." He hesitated, trying to catch the image from his dream before it faded. "I dreamt about a storm. Lightning." He shuddered without thinking. "It seemed so real."

O'Brien decided to go by the Sickbay on Deck Two before he headed down to Engineering. The unusually long morning briefing had finally broken up when Sickbay had reported the doctor was waking up. Sisko had left with little information. It seemed the doctor had been found unconscious on the floor of his quarters during the night. Something about that hadn't sat right with O'Brien, and he hoped he might run into more details by walking past Sickbay.

What he ran into was Captain Sisko, who was just leaving Sickbay. O'Brien tried not to look embarrassed or guilty. "How's he doing?" he asked quickly, trying to cover his unease with a show of concern for the new doctor.

Sisko either didn't notice or didn't let on. "Fine as far as they can tell," Sisko shrugged. "He doesn't remember anything besides going to bed. Said he dreamt about lightning and then woke up here." He pointed his thumb at the door behind him. "He seems to be fine though, just tired. Let's try not to give him any new patients today, huh? Get the shields back up to par."

"Lightning?" O'Brien asked. Something about that struck a chord. "Oh, shields!" He realized Sisko had given him an order. Sisko had noticed after all. Sickbay was not 'on the way' to Engineering. "Of course, sir. I'll get right on it."

Sisko nodded sharply and then moved off down the corridor, heading back to the Bridge. O'Brien continued in the opposite direction to another turbolift that would take him to Engineering. He worked on the shields for the next two hours, but he had lightning on his mind. Then he remembered. Bashir had said something about lightning. No, it was electricity. He had dreamed about electricity and woke up late. Three nights in a row. The lightning dream was after they'd returned to the station.

Finishing up with the sensors, O'Brien decided to do a little investigating. The first part was easy. He called up Hensing's quarters on the computer. They were Julian's old quarters. Was it just a coincidence that two doctors using the same quarters would have the same dream? He thought about what Sisko said. Hensing was still tired. He'd been unconscious all night, but was still tired. Julian had been exhausted, like he hadn't had any sleep except for those dreams.

"I'm going to take a break," he called out to Nog who, today, did not have helm duty. He was working on the sensors. "Make sure the internal sensors are up to specs," he ordered as an afterthought. "Or better than specs. I think we may need them."

"What for, Chief?" Nog asked.

"I'm not sure yet." He waved to let Nog know that discussion was over. Then he left Engineering and returned to Sickbay.

It was nearly noon by then, and Hensing was up tending his patients. Still, O'Brien saw him cover a yawn as he waited for him to finish up with a Bolian from Security. "Doctor," O'Brien said. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Are you sick?" Hensing asked, dispensing with any pleasantries that might have served as greeting.

"No," O'Brien admitted. "It's about you."

Hensing looked slightly annoyed, but he told the nurse to continue with the patient and drew aside with O'Brien. His eyes narrowed as he appraised the Chief. "What about me?" he asked quietly.

O'Brien didn't blame him for being suspicious. He tried to think of a good way to ease into this. He wasn't even sure yet what he was hoping to find out. Then he decided to start like Julian had. "Have you ever had a dream," he asked, keeping his own voice just as quiet and hoping his face wasn't turning red, "that feels real? I mean really real."

The suspicion left Hensing's face, and worry took its place. "Are you sure you're okay, Chief?"

"I'm fine," O'Brien insisted. "Have you ever had a dream like that?"

Hensing wasn't convinced, but he played along. "Well, yes," he answered. "Everyone does at some point. It's perfectly normal. I had one just last night, actually."

"What about?" O'Brien already knew the answer, of course. He just wanted to see how Hensing would say it.

He didn't say it. "Why?" he asked in return.

"Please," O'Brien plead, "just humor me. I think I'm on to something about what happened to you last night."

That worked. "Lightning," Hensing said, looking down. "I think I was struck by it. I remember seeing electricity around me. I felt it." He looked up again. "How does that help?"

O'Brien decided to take a chance and confide in the doctor as much as he knew so far. "Your quarters used to belong to Doctor Bashir. Last time he was in them, he dreamt he was electrocuted. Said he could feel it. It was very real to him. Three nights in a row. He woke up late after each one. He was tired all day, completely exhausted. Sound familiar?"

Hensing was paying close attention now. His brows were drawn down close over his eyes. "You think there's some sort of connection between my dream and whatever's happened to Doctor Bashir."

O'Brien couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement. He just nodded. "Maybe. But I'm going to find out."

Hensing nodded, too, slowly. "Let me know what you find, Chief."

O'Brien nodded. "I'd like to start with your quarters, sir."

The doctor gave him permission to enter his quarters, so O'Brien headed there next. He felt like maybe he should tell someone, but that same nagging that had made him look into the lightning dream told him to keep this quiet for the moment. Right now, only he and Hensing knew something was up.

He did a thorough sweep of the quarters, especially the bunks. He pulled out the computer panels and scanned behind each one. He was half-expecting to find something there, maybe those parasitic things the Krajensky changeling had used. But there was nothing there. Everything seemed normal. And that just wasn't normal enough for O'Brien. Too many things had gone wrong and still tested out as normal recently. Bashir, Hensing, and now these quarters. He was determined to find something wrong somewhere to explain all of it.

He returned to Engineering. "How are the internal sensors?" he asked Nog.

"Couldn't be better if they were just installed," he called back from somewhere down the Jefferies tube. "I think you'll be satisfied, Chief. What are you looking for?"

"I let you know as soon as I figure that out." "

Bashir spent three hours with Ezri before she called a break for lunch. Bashir was glad for the break, both because he was terribly hungry and because he simply didn't like talking to counselors, even one who was a friend. He had no more idea now what was wrong with him than he'd had before. Dax handed him a PADD and suggested he take it to Doctor Girani in the morning.

Bashir nodded and left before Ezri could suggest an escort. One person. Jake had said to call him when he was finished with his appointment. Jake was one person. No one else needed to be concerned. He touched his comm badge. "Bashir to Jake Sisko." He stood still and waited for an answer.

Jake's reply was almost instantaneous. "Right here. Ezri's done with you?"

"Yes," Julian answered. He wanted to ask for help getting home, but it was still hard to voice such things.

"I'll be right there."

"Okay," Bashir answered, but he felt disappointed. He couldn't tell Jake why. But he was starting to draw attention just standing there. What if Dax came out and found him there?

Jake spoke again. "Start walking left out of the office. I'll meet you on the way."

Bashir felt a smile cross his face. Jake knew without him saying anything. How had he gotten so wise? He thought a moment about which way was left. But he figured it out fairly quickly. He made sure his back was to Ezri's door and turned left, walking slowly so that he wouldn't come to a cross corridor before Jake arrived.

Jake caught up with him within five minutes, and they walked the rest of the way to Bashir's quarters. He carried a box in his hands but he didn't offer to tell what it was. Instead, Jake told Bashir about a new story he was starting.

When they reached Bashir's quarters, Jake invited himself in. Bashir didn't say anything. He was curious about the box. He could smell something inside it.

Jake set the box on the table. "What did Ezri say?" he asked.

Bashir thought for a moment and then remembered the PADD he had in his hand. "More than I understood." He hesitated before handing the PADD to Jake. "This is private," he felt he had to add.

"Of course," Jake said. "If she wrote in counselor mumbo jumbo, I won't understand it either." Still, he read over the PADD. His brows furrowed as Julian watched, but he didn't say anything as he read. Finally, he frowned. "It doesn't say much, really. She couldn't find any psychological cause for what's happening. She thinks you're suffering from a lot of stress and that you keep things in too much. Anything beyond that is beyond me."

"But it doesn't help," Bashir concluded. "Not now."

"No," Jake agreed. "Shall I call Doctor Girani and make another appointment?"

Julian went to the couch and fell onto it, forgetting about the box. "Yes, please."

Jake went to the computer, and Bashir just stared at the ceiling. But then he smelled that smell again. "I thought I'd make some lunch," Jake said. "I figured you had enough to worry about."

The mess hall was crowded, but the crew had left one table for the captain to sit alone. Usually someone on the senior staff would join him, but there was no one available this trip. Worf had the bridge, and O'Brien was busy in Engineering. Doctor Hensing had still been busy in Sickbay. It was a shame. Sisko thought they needed to get to know each other. As things stood now, it looked as if Bashir wouldn't be coming back. He'd gotten a call from the station. Both Doctor Girani and Dax had been unable to find a cause for his recent whatever-it-was. Sisko didn't even know what to call it, but it didn't seem to be getting any better. In fact, Dax had reported that things were getting worse.

The chatter in the room was loud. Some were laughing, telling stories. Others were talking in low voices, their heads bowed. Must be the war, Sisko decided. He took a drink of his raktojino and wished there was someone across the table. He could stand some conversation. Well, it was only one night more. Tomorrow night, he'd be back on the station and he'd have Kasidy for a dinner companion.

O'Brien and Nog entered the mess hall together and Sisko waved them over. "Have a seat, gentlemen."

O'Brien stopped by the table but didn't sit down. He looked around the room with apprehension. He leaned down. "Actually, sir, we were hoping to speak to you privately."

Sisko didn't like that tone of voice. But he trusted it. He placed his napkin back on the table and rose from his seat. "My quarters are close by."

The three of them left the mess hall and its noise behind. Once inside Sisko's quarters, Nog began to scan the room with a tricorder. Sisko waited for an explanation, but neither of the engineers spoke. "Chief?" he asked.

"Just a minute, sir," O'Brien held him off. "Nog?"

"All clear," Nog reported. "I'll set up a dampening field." He began working on the control console set into the wall.

"Just making sure no one's listening in, Captain," O'Brien explained.

Sisko tried to be patient, but he didn't like this situation. What if O'Brien was a changeling? No, Nog would have to be one, too, or there would still be a witness. He waited.

Finally Nog nodded that the field was up and O'Brien began to talk. "We have a saboteur on board."

That certainly did explain the secrecy. Sisko crossed his arms and leaned against the bunks. "How do you know."

"A hunch," O'Brien answered. But then he added. "Something you said this morning."

A hunch was a little less dramatic than Sisko had hoped. If one is going to get worked up about a saboteur, one wants something a little more solid to go on. "What was it that I said that gave you a hunch?"

"You told me about Doctor Hensing."

"You think Hensing is a saboteur?"

O'Brien looked hurt. "No, sir. I think he's a victim of the saboteur. If you'll hear me out, Captain."

"Sorry, Chief," Sisko said. Maybe he was just hungry and it was making him more impatient than usual. "Please continue."

"You said Hensing was tired after he was unconscious all night," O'Brien continued. "And you said he dreamt about lightning. Do you remember some weeks ago, when Julian was so exhausted he nearly fell asleep in the morning briefing?"

What did this have to do with Bashir? Sisko wondered. Bashir had been officially relieved of duty. And he hadn't been on the Defiant for the better part of a month. But, yes, Sisko did remember. Bashir wasn't one to fall asleep on duty. He nodded.

"He woke up late three days in a row," the Chief said. "Each time, he said he remembered dreaming about being electrocuted. Said it seemed very real to him. He hasn't been on the Defiant since. And no one had used his quarters since then either. Except Hensing. And his first night in there he dreams about getting hit by lightning."

Sisko was getting it, but not how it led to sabotage. "You think Bashir might have been unconscious, too. Only no one found him. He just woke up in the morning."

O'Brien nodded. "I checked out the quarters and didn't find anything. Then I really thought about the dreams. Maybe they weren't dreams at all. Maybe they really were hit by something."

Now Nog joined in. "We've spent the last seven hours going through energy readings from the last five weeks. But we found it." He held up a PADD. Sisko took it and scrolled through the data there. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"Don't see anything?" O'Brien asked. "Neither did we. At first. But it's there. Or more accurately, it's not there." He came to Sisko's side and pointed to a line of data. "These are the readings for all systems the day before Julian's first electricity dream." He pointed to three other lines. "And these are the readings for the next three nights."

Sisko studied the data hoping to see what O'Brien saw. But he just couldn't see it. The readings for the first day and the next three were only slightly different. Less than one percent lower for each system. "One percent."

O'Brien nodded, and smiled with a hint of admiration. "Less than one percent, and that's across the board. You add all that up and you get a fair amount of energy. And look here." He pressed a control on the PADD and a new set of figures appeared. "These are the readings for the light fixture above the top bunk in Julian's quarters."

There were two figures for each set. One was energy coming into the fixture, and the other was energy expended by the fixture. Normal scans would only show output. It must have been some hunch for the Chief to go to all this work. The output was normal and steady for the entire range of days. The energy input however was much higher for the four days O'Brien highlighted. Sisko turned off the PADD and turned to face O'Brien in full. "Tear his quarters apart if you have to. Ensign!"

Nog drew himself to attention beside O'Brien. Sisko looked down at him. "Take the helm. Set course for Starbase 137, under my authorization. Don't explain and don't tell anyone about this. Except for you, everyone goes about their duties as usual until we reach the starbase. We are the only ones who know about this?" He waited for confirmation nods. Still, he wanted to hear it. "Understood?"

Nog was practically beaming. "Understood."

"Yes, sir," O'Brien acknowledged.

©copyright 1998 Gabrielle Lawson

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