Starfleet officers were trained in diplomacy. Unfortunately, the passengers inside the Federation shuttle had a complete disregard for it, along with courtesy and good manners. Jack headed directly for the computer console, stepping on and over the table, rather than walking around it. Patrick circled the couch, fussing with its position. Lauren drifted languidly towards the officer watching their arrival. Her eyes flicked over the man, noting the crisp Starfleet uniform with blue bands and counting the pips. She smiled at him. "Hello."

He cleared his throat uneasily, slightly intimidated by her regard. "I'm Lt. Nichols and I'll be escorting you three back to the Institute. Is there anything you need before we leave DS9?"

Abandoning his efforts to reposition the couch, Patrick walked over to him. "That's a stupid question," he replied, drawing himself up. Nichols stepped back, a look of confusion spreading across his face. Patrick pushed past him to stand next to Jack.

Lauren took Nichols arm. "Don't mind him." Tugging lightly, she pulled him towards the couch and draped herself over the cushions. "Why don't you join me?"

Nichols extracted his arm and backed away. A light tap on his shoulder startled him and he whirled around. Close enough that Nichols could smell his breath stood Jack.

"We need subspace generators," Jack informed him, unconcerned by his reaction. "A lot of them."

"Subspace..." repeated Nichols blankly.

Jack threw his hands up in disgusted exasperation. "Do you not realize we're running out of time? Hmm?" Without waiting for an answer, Jack paced back to the computer screen. A diagram of the universe was displayed on it, the glowing lines pulsing against the black screen

Nichols found his voice. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"We're all going to die," explained Patrick. "The universe has too much mass, it's going to collapse."

"We don't have time for explanations," interrupted Jack. "We need to stop it!"

"And how do you intend to do that?" he asked, skeptically. Jack and Patrick ignored him, absorbed in the display.

Lauren stood up and stretched, conscious of how the skintight dress clung to her. "Change the constant of subspace, of course." She moved to join them at the screen, ignoring the lieutenant since his rejection. Nichols watched them for a few moments but they appeared oblivious to his presence, so he left for the cockpit.

Patrick played with some of the variables. "What do you think?"

"I think he's more handsome than Nog," Lauren smiled.

"Forget about the Ferengi," Jack snapped. "We have work to do." The computer beeped as it finished calculating the adjusted equations. Silence reigned for several minutes as they examined the results before Jack broke it. "This isn't working. Not at all. And can you believe the nerve of him?" he said, switching the topic to Doctor Bashir and their recent visit to Deep Space 9. "Trying to take Sarina away from us. From us! We're her family."

Lauren sighed. "But she did look lovely in that dress." She returned to the couch, and sank into it. Her hand lazily caressed the soft fabric, absently tracing circles with her nails.

Jack snorted. Sarina looked like Sarina to him, no matter what she wore.

"The singing was fun," inserted Patrick timidly. "She has a nice voice."

"It was certainly better than when she first walked in. 'I...have...so...much...to...say'," Jack mimicked. "She sounded stupid."

A shudder rocked through the shuttle, tilting the floor, and interrupting their conversation. Annoyed, Jack strode to the door separating them from the pilot, once again going over the table instead of around. He pounded on the door, his knocking growing in volume as it went unanswered. After a several seconds, the door swung open to reveal an irritated Nichols. "What is it?"

Jack opened his mouth to complain about the pilot's skill. Two words into his tirade, Nichols cut him off. "Now is not a good time."

"What could possibly be more important?" asked Jack.

"We're under attack. And be quiet, that racket was distracting the pilot." Nichols slammed the door shut in his face before Jack could protest.

Jack swung around to face Patrick and Lauren. "Can you believe him? He didn't even listen to my complaint." The shuttle lurched again, nearly unbalancing him.

Patrick grabbed the table and dragged it back to its original place. He stared down at it. "It's not right," he complained. "I know that's not right." The table slid some more as the shuttle made a fast turn.

"Try sitting on it," suggested Lauren. She tilted her head and sniffed, trying to identify a smell. The shuttle smelled of disinfectant and a hint of something else. Lauren's memory identified it easily as smoke. "Do you smell something burning?"

"Probably the engines." Patrick smoothed his gray outfit out as he sat. "Do you think they'll let me be an Admiral again? I never got us attacked."

Jack stopped pacing. "It was my plan. And it worked, didn't it? Hmm? Yes. But they never listen to me." He resumed his pacing in front of the door. "How am I supposed to think under these conditions?"

The door slid open with a hiss and Nichols emerged. "The engines have been damaged and we're being forced to land. I'm giving you each a phaser in case we get separated."

Lauren leaned forward to claim her weapon. "Lucky there was an M-class planet nearby," she murmured. "Uninhabited, I presume."

"Yes." He glanced over at Patrick and made a small noise of horror. "What are you doing?"

His phaser lay in pieces on the table. "Making it work better. That was a very clumsy design." Patrick didn't look up from his work at reconstructing the pieces.

Nichols made an attempt to enforce his authority. He was a seasoned Starfleet officer and it would take more than three civilians, genetically enhanced or not, before he lost control of the situation. "You three are all civilians, and you don't belong out here anyway. You are not to run off, improve things, or do anything except what I tell you. Is that understood?" Every word was pronounced carefully and clearly, he wanted no misunderstandings on this trip.

"That's a stupid…" Patrick stopped at the glare from Nichols, the force of which could have powered a spacestation. "Question," he completed, under his breath. In silence he finished reassembling his phaser.

Nichols glared at the rest of them, trying to gauge their reliability. "Brace yourselves," he warned. "We'll be crash-landing in a few minutes." He turned and went back into the cockpit to help the pilot.

"I don't like him," decided Jack. Utterly disregarding the instructions, he continued, "Now, what are we going to do about the enemies?"

Lost in their planning, they scarcely noticed the bumpy landing. The soft sound of the door opening caught them by surprise, and Jack broke off his speech abruptly. Nichols stepped in, followed by the pilot. Lauren eyed the pilot, comparing him to Nichols. He wore a gray jumpsuit, standard issue for the Institute employees. A blue and white nametag read Steve.

He ignored her. "There's a survival kit in the storage bin," he told Nichols. "I'll get it and meet you outside."

Nodding his agreement, Nichols returned his attention to his charges. The shuttle doors slid open and he gestured for them to go ahead. They didn't move. "Come on," he encouraged. "I want to put as much distance between us and the shuttle as possible."

They still didn't budge. "It's raining out," stated Patrick.

Lauren's hand snaked up to touch her hair. "I can't go out there."

"We'll leave when it stops." Jack sat down, arms folded, prepared to wait out the weather.

Keeping a tight control on his temper, Nichols growled, "No, you will not. You are going outside. Now."

Patrick looked hurt. "You don't have to shout, you know. I can hear perfectly fine." He stepped gingerly outside, holding one hand out to feel the rain, then taking a few more steps.

Pausing behind him in the doorway, Lauren turned to face Jack. "Come along now Jack." She shot a dark look at Nichols. "We know when we're not wanted."

Muttering under his breath, Jack caught up with her and they exited the shuttle.

Nichols leaned against the door and let out a deep breath, closing his eyes. "God, whatever I did wrong to get this assignment, I'm sorry and I promise I'll never do it again." The pilot's voice recalled him to the current situation.

"Here," Steven handed backpack to Nichols. "I put everything I could into these two packs." His blues eyes drifted to the clearing. Except for three things."

Following his gaze, Nichols watched the three playing in the rain. "Oh?" Patrick seemed to be enjoying himself and Lauren was annoying Jack by flicking water at him.

"Binoculars, flashlight and compass. Harmless enough, and they won't complain nearly so much if they have something to play with," explained Steve.

"Are they always this bad?"

"Bad?" Steve laughed. "This is well behaved for them. I've worked at the Institute for twelve years, and they don't get any better."

A sigh escaped Nichols. "We'd better get moving. It won't take long for the shuttle to be found."

"Good luck getting them to listen. We have an expression back at the Institute." Answering his curious glance, Steven continued. "'It's like herding cats.'" Still chuckling, Steve walked down to the clearing.

Nichols rested a moment against the cool metal of the shuttlecraft before shouldering the heavy pack. From the clearing, the sounds of bickering rose and he hurried his step. Snippets of conversation reached him.

"Why does he get the binoculars?"
"Because I'm taller."
"I want the flashlight."
"Give that back! He gave it to me to hold."
"I don't want this one."

Meeting Steven's eyes through the chaos, Nichols remarked, "I never did like cats."

Nichols led the group through the forest, heading towards the sound of water. They had been walking uphill for the last several hours and he was searching for a place to camp. Their pace was fast, stemming partly from Nichols's desire to distance themselves from the shuttle before it was found and partly from the hope that exhaustion would quiet his charges. His plan had achieved a limited success when they finally stopped.

Steven moved up to talk to Nichols. "How long before we make camp?"

A hand shielded his eyes as Nichols checked the sun's position. "Another hour or so." He didn't want to be wandering around on a strange planet past sunset. Lauren, Patrick and Jack filtered into the clearing, debating over something Nichols couldn't hear. "What are they going on about now?"

"Last I heard they were trying to prove that snowflake patterns repeat. And I swear Jack is deliberately timing the branches to snap back and hit me." Steve rubbed at a growing welt on his arm.

"I am not having him up front again. Did you know he believes the Federation should surrender? There's a lot of things I'm willing to put up with, but listening to someone advocate treason is not one of them."

"At least it's stopped raining."

"True," Nichols agreed, taking a sip from his canteen. A rustling noise brought him to attention and he glanced around.

Lounging on a flat rock, Lauren examined her nails carefully. The forest canopy had sheltered them from most of the rain, but her blue dress had not been designed with hiking in mind and had suffered. Patrick appeared absorbed in turning over leaves, observing the insects that scuttled away. During their trek, Patrick had picked up a walking stick and he was now using it to flip over the leaves. Jack was nowhere to be seen.

Striding over to Lauren, he caught her attention. "Where did Jack go?"

She gestured at a tree. "Up."

"Up?" Stepping back, Nichols examined the tree. Half hidden by the leaves and his black clothes, Jack was perched near the top of the tree. A branch bent precariously under him as he climbed higher. "Jack," Nichols called. "Get down from there!" He was surprised when Jack actually began to climb back down.

Several feet from the ground, Jack jumped, landing lightly. Without pausing to brush off leaves or twigs, he moved towards another tree.

Nichols watched in shock as Jack prepared to climb it. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Climbing a tree, what does it look like? That shouldn't be too hard for even you to figure out." The novelty of walking through a forest had worn off very quickly for Jack, and he took every opportunity to insult Nichols for making him.

Ignoring the insult, Nichols shook his head. "No, you're not. You're staying right here. Try and climb that and I will stun you."

"You can't do that," exclaimed Jack. "You're Starfleet, you don't shoot unarmed civilians. It's not allowed."

Nichols folded his arms and looked stern. "I can if you are endangering other people, and climbing trees could lead the Jem'Hadar straight to us." He hoped that Jack wouldn't call his bluff. Stunning Jack, while making him feel better, would cause more problems in the long run. Maybe the threat of the Jem'Hadar could make him behave.

Jack waved a hand, dismissing Nichols' concerns. "You think I didn't take that into account? The Jem'Hadar aren't close enough to see me. My plans are never wrong."

"What about that time when you said they'd never know it was us?" asked Patrick.

"They couldn't prove it, could they?" Jack snapped. One hand still rested on the lowest branch, but he didn't start climbing.

Nichols ignored the digression, trying to keep the conversation relevant. "How do you know the Jem'Hadar aren't nearby?"

"I've been watching them. And if I had a better view, I could make out what they were saying. How do you expect me to read their lips if I can't get a good view?" Jack complained.

"You've been…" Nichols reminded himself to breathe, counting to ten silently. "Give me the binoculars."

"Get your own pair." Jack stalked over to sit next to Lauren, turning his back on Nichols and clutching the binoculars.

Nichols cast a beseeching glance at Steven, asking for assistance. "Offer him something," Steve suggested. "I'll trade you chocolate for the binoculars, Jack."

"I'm not interested in candy," sneered Jack.

"What would you like?" asked Nichols wearily.

Jack turned to look at him. "I want Sarina back. Can you do that? Hmm?"

"No. That's not possible." Nichols tried to keep his tone even and reasonable. Getting upset simply encouraged Jack. "All we have is what we're carrying. Sarina isn't even on the planet. Even if she was, it was her choice not to return to the Institute."

"Excuses, excuses. We weren't given a choice, now were we? Because we're mutants and he can't fix us. No, but he can fix her." Jack sprang up, unable to remain still. Pacing the length of the clearing, he turned to face Nichols. "How about a data pad? Do you have one of those?"

Wordlessly Nichols opened his pack and handed it over. Jack tapped a few keys and data scrolled over the screen. His eyes flickered back and forth, swiftly reading the words. Nichols cleared his throat. "The binoculars," he prompted. Jack tossed them to him without a glance.

"Thank you." Hanging them from his neck, Nichols began pulling himself up the tree. Reaching the top, he braced himself and lifted the binoculars.

Steven wandered over to watch. "Do you see them?" he called up.

"Yes. There's a group of seven Jem'Hadar approximately 8,000 yards away." Holding on tightly with one hand, he adjusted the focus. "I can't see their ship."

Jack corrected Nichols' estimate. "It's actually closer to 8,143 yards. Don't they teach Starfleet officers to count that high?" He passed the pad to Lauren. She glanced over the calculations and handed it to Patrick. "Well? What do you think?"

Patrick made a few changes, mindful of Jack hovering over his shoulder. Lauren stretched, her dress clinging to her body. "Your prediction is accurate, as far as it goes. I can think of better uses of that, though."

Snatching the data pad back, Jack reviewed the alterations Patrick had made. "Viewing pictures, you mean."

She shook her head, tossing dark hair back. "Still jealous that I refused you?"

"Hardly." He glanced up at Nichols. "Are you coming down from there or not? And be careful coming down."

"It's nice to know you care." Nichols intended to be careful, but he was tired of Jack's slights against Starfleet in general and him in particular and wanted to prove himself. He shimmed down the tree in controlled bursts of energy.

All three of them watched his descent with clinical detachment. "I just want to test my theory."

"What theory would that be?" Reaching a position slightly above where Jack had jumped from, Nichols inched out along a branch and swung down. He landed slightly off balance and slipped on the wet leaves as something turned under his foot. A sharp pain flared in his ankle as he dropped to the ground.

"That you would fall at some point."

He felt the area around his ankle, noting the tenderness. "Why didn't you tell me?" Steve offered him a hand, and Nichols stood, tentatively putting weight on his foot. The wave of pain made him wince. "Before I fell."

Jack huffed. "I didn't think you'd be so stupid as to get yourself injured. Whatever were you thinking? We're in danger here and you go taking risks. I told you to be careful."

"Shut up," snarled Steve. Turning back to Nichols, he continued, "Can you walk on it?"

"Not for any distance." He shrugged at Steve's grimace. "At least it's not broken. It should be fine with the med kit." Nichols noticed that Steven was no longer meeting his eyes. "You did bring the medical kit?" he asked, a sudden suspicion running through his mind.

"It wouldn't do any good. One of the energy bursts hit right outside the storage bin. The energy discharge ran through it. I ran a diagnostic on it and the sensors were screwed."

"Great," sighed Nichols. "What else can go wrong?" He held up a hand to forestall answers. "I do not want to hear any suggestions. We'll have to set up camp here, I can't go any further."

"So?" asked Jack. "You said that we needed to be as far away as possible. We can still walk."

Steve looked at them in disgust. "We can't just leave him here."

"The Jem'Hadar won't stop for very long and I do not want to get killed because he couldn't watch where he was going!"

Nichols tried to calm them both down. "Steve, let me handle this. Jack, would you leave Lauren or Patrick if they were hurt?"

"Yes, if it was that or be killed. There's no point in us all dying. Anyone with half a brain could see that."

The pain from arguing with Jack was beginning to drown out the pain in his ankle. "Staying does not assume that the Jem'Hadar will find us, Jack. And how far would you get without any supplies?"

Lauren's cool voice broke in. "He does have a point about the supplies," she pointed out.

"Fine. But I still say this is a bad idea."

Nichols hobbled over to the flat rock, leaning on Steve. Lauren slid off to make room for him and walked over to Jack. Nichols gave Steve a pained smile. "See? They do listen to reason." Steven still appeared skeptical, electing to ignore them in favor of helping Nichols.

Dinner went smoothly, with only minor complaints about the food quality. As it fell dark. Nichols looked over at Steve. "I think we should keep watch tonight. Do you want to take the first shift?"

"I don't really care." He scowled at where Jack and the rest were clustered over the data pad. "Just don't let one of them guard."

Nichols concurred. "I'll take the first watch then, and wake you in a few hours. We'll take turns for the rest of the night."

"Agreed." Steven brushed dinner crumbs off and headed towards his bed.

Nichols leaned back against a tree and waited, reflecting on the day's events. Time passed slowly, the sounds of unfamiliar wildlife keeping him alert whenever his thoughts drifted. Eventually, he stood and staggered over to wake Steve. Snuggling down in the warm blankets, Nichols was asleep in seconds.

He woke to find Steve shaking him and morning light shining down through the canopy. "What?" he muttered groggily.

"You looked like you needed the sleep more than I did. I thought I'd take the rest of the watches." He licked his lips nervously. "There was no sign of the Jem'Hadar."

Nichols looked around the quiet clearing. "Where are…?"

"I must have fallen asleep at some point," Steve admitted, ashamed. "They're gone. And they remembered to take supplies."

"We only had one set of supplies." Nichols was slowly waking up, his mind starting to work.

"I know."

Darkness is considered helpful when attempting to avoid trained enemy soldiers. So is moving silently. Jack trampled through the forest, arguing loudly with Lauren and Patrick. "How am I supposed to lead if you keep shining the flashlight away?"

"You carry it then." Lauren handed the flashlight to Jack and pushed past him.

He grabbed it reflexively and stared down at it for a second. Catching up with her in a few long strides, he thrust it at her. "I'm carrying one of the packs. That means you carry this."

Glancing around, Patrick studied the trees. "I think we've been here before. Shine the flashlight over here." Lauren complied. "I'm positive we've passed this tree before. Look at the foliage."

"Couldn't have. We used the compass. You can't go in a circle using a compass." His gaze darted to Lauren. "You kept moving the flashlight to check the direction. How could you possibly misread a compass?"

"I'm just not an outdoors type of girl," she drawled, flipping her hair back. "Let's just get back to the shuttle and a real bed." She sighed melodramatically. "Even if it is an empty one."

Jack snatched the compass from her grasp. "Stop thinking about yourself. If you hadn't gotten us lost, we could have already fixed the shuttle and been out of here. Leave the tree, Patrick." Surveying the surrounding area, he pointed to the right. "This way."

"That's back the way we came," protested Lauren tiredly.

"No it's not," Jack insisted. Without waiting for a reply, he started walking off. Patrick and Lauren shared a glance before following. Ten minutes later, Jack halted abruptly. "Something's out there. I heard movement." Only a few steps behind him, Lauren and Patrick stumbled to avoid running into him.

"I still think we should have gone left at those bushes," mumbled Patrick. Lauren rolled her eyes.

Impatiently, Jack gestured for her to shine the light in a circle. "Hello? Who's there?" The light reflected several pairs of eyes. Realizing they were seen, three Jem'Hadar stepped forward. As one, they drew their weapons. "What do you think you're doing?" Jack demanded. He examined the weapon aimed at him, more curious about it's design then worried.

"You will hand over your phasers and surrender." The leader's voice was rough and gravelly.

Turning his back on the Jem'Hadar, Jack huddled with Lauren and Patrick, holding a whispered, intense discussion. The Jem'Hadar were not used to having their demands utterly ignored. Defied, refused, opposed – all of those – but never ignored. "Did you not hear me?" growled the leader, becoming angry.

Jack looked up. "Of course we heard you. Now be quiet." He started to turn back to his group. The leader lunged forward and grabbed his arm, roughly swinging him around.

"Nobody ignores the Jem'Hadar!" Bellowing, he lifted Jack off the ground, holding him at eye level close to his face.

Flinching away, Jack said, "Has anyone ever told you, you have bad breath? It smells like you've been eating Klingon food." With a roar, the Jem'Hadar threw him to the ground, narrowly missing a tree.

The other two soldiers started moving towards Patrick and Lauren. Slowly backing up, Lauren bumped into a tree, preventing her from moving further away. As the Jem'Hadar came closer, she reached for her phaser and threw it at him. He batted it away easily and continued to advance on her.

Patrick clutched his phaser tightly to his chest. "No, you can't have it. It's mine, find your own." The Jem'Hadar soldier had to pry it out of his hands, nearly breaking several fingers. Patrick bit him and the Jem'Hadar slapped him in retaliation. "Jack, make him stop."

Jack was hauled to his feet and the leader roughly removed his phaser. "Anything else you want to say?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, there's quite a bit I want to say..." The Jem'Hadar raised a hand and Jack hastily stepped back. "That's not fair. You're not supposed to hit us. We're on your side."

"Our side?"

"Yes. There's no way the Federation can beat the Dominion. Look, I still have the calculations, I can show them to you." Jack opened the pack and started rummaging through it for the data pad.

Suspicious of tricks, the Jem'Hadar stopped Jack. "You'll have a chance to explain later. You're coming back with us." He motioned for them to form a line. "Bring them," he ordered. "I'll go on ahead and report."

"Don't we get to rest first?"

The Jem'Hadar soldier laughed harshly and prodded Jack to begin walking. "Better get moving, it's a long way back to base camp."

It didn't take long for Jack to come to the conclusion that the Jem'Hadar were more boring than Nichols. And they used physical violence whenever he tried to talk. Cooperating for the moment, he walked along, eyes on the ground, idly creating equations to determine the pattern of fallen leaves. As he worked in air resistance, he started to hum. "This is the song that never ends, it just goes on and on my friends."

Lauren joined in on a higher note. "Some people started singing it not knowing what it was, and they'll just keep on singing it forever just because..."

"This is the song that never ends," continued Patrick, picking up the tune.

By the time the trio stumbled into the enemy camp, their Jem'Hadar guards were willing to forget discipline and kill them. Leading them to a hastily erected structure, the Jem'Hadar gratefully left them to make their own reports. The last one paused in the doorway. "Get some sleep, you'll be questioned in the morning."

"Technically, it's already morning," Jack pointed out, his correction more out of habit than thought. His normally energetic movements were dulled by fatigue, as were Lauren and Patrick's. The door slammed shut as the Jem'Hadar left.

They looked around the tent. Several blankets had been dragged in, to protect against the chilly night. There was no furniture or other objects. Lauren arranged the blankets, creating a small nest space. "Do you think they'll give us a ride back to DS9?" Nestling in besides her, Jack murmured a non-committal grunt. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Conserving body heat, my dear. Don't flatter yourself." Sprawled together in a tangle of limbs, innocent as children, they fell asleep.

Their awakening was more unpleasant than Nichols'. A swift kick to the stomach and Jack doubled over, rolling painfully away. His eyes focused on the grinning face of a Jem'Hadar above him. "It's polite to knock."

"On your feet, human. It's time for your interrogation."

Glanced behind him out the door, Jack noticed the gray sky. "He said in the morning. It's not light out. Wake me in a few hours. And knock next time. Even creatures like you should be able to learn that."

The Jem'Hadar's voice took on a hard tone. "Creatures like me?"

Jack ignored it. "Yes. You were modified to be the perfect soldiers, weren't you? It doesn't take much intelligence to obey orders. Shoot, kill, growl, roll over, things like that. The algorithm the Founders used to breed traits into you is truly fascinating."

"You are lucky that my orders include delivering you uninjured. Do not think you can bait me like you did my comrades. Now, will you walk, or will I have to drag you outside?"

"I can walk." Displeased with his speed, the Jem'Hadar pushed him as Jack walked past. Jack stumbled and glared at him. "I'm going to report this to your superiors. We'll see what they have to say about you treating us like this."

"Quiet," ordered the Jem'Hadar, taloned hands digging into Jack's shoulder. "You will not speak unless told to." Jack drew a breath to say something and he overrode the half-formed protest. "Or I will hurt you." The rest of the trip was made in silence. He escorted Jack to a Dominion shuttlecraft and motioned him inside. "Sit and be quiet." Taking a moment to make sure Jack behaved, he turned and left to fetch the others.

Jack sat, his eyes sliding over the alien lettering, absorbing the information. The leader barked commands at the other Jem'Hadar and he mentally translated them. He obediently remained still and silent, hands folded in his lap.

Several seconds passed, then his hand moved, fingers drumming against the metal bench. The rapid tapping drew scowls from the Jem'Hadar soldiers. Jack amused himself by creating complex rhythms from geometric progressions.

The Jem'Hadar reappeared in the doorway, dragging a still weary Lauren. He pushed her towards where Jack sat, expecting him to catch her before she fell. Jack moved his feet as Lauren slid to the floor so she wouldn't land on them. She curled up on the floor, resting her head against her arm and closed her eyes.

Patrick entered a few minutes later, and the Jem'Hadar began making final arrangements to leave. The door clicked shut with a very final locking sound and the engines hummed from preflight checks. With a small shudder, the shuttle rose from the ground and started for the rendezvous point with the main Dominion vessel.

Several miles away, Nichols watched the departure through the binoculars and cursed. He turned to Steve. "They must have been found. The Jem'Hadar wouldn't leave without a reason."

"Do we have to rescue them?" asked Steve. He raised his hands in a placating gesture when Nichols frowned at him. "It was just a suggestion. I mean, we are stranded on an alien world with no supplies and a broken shuttle. Rescuing three loonies from the Dominion isn't first priority in my book."

"Look on the bright side of things, Steve. We can go back to the shuttlecraft now."

A Vorta greeted them as they stepped aboard the Dominion warship. "Welcome," he said, smiling insincerely. "My name is Melior. I hope the Jem'Hadar haven't been too rough with you. I did give them orders, but," Melior shrugged, observing the condition of the three Federation prisoners. "One cannot predict everything." They stared at him and Melior had the odd feeling that they could see right through him. After a night of reading all the Jem'Hadar reports, he was baffled by these humans' behavior. "Perhaps you'll feel more talkative after you've rested." He had no intention of actually letting them sleep. They'd be more likely to make a slip and reveal things if they were tired. "Just follow me." Still smiling, he led them through the corridors.

As they trailed along behind the Vorta, Jack conferred with Lauren and Patrick, making no effort to lower his voice. Three Jem'Hadar fell in behind them, watching them closely for any signs of treachery. "It's a classic strategy."

"Good guy, bad guy," added Patrick. "Could someone really be taken in by his act?"

Sighing, Lauren responded. "Some people are stupid enough to believe anything."

"It's pity he was lying about letting us sleep," mourned Patrick regretfully.

Melior came to a stop outside of a nondescript metal door. "This is your room," he said, turning to Lauren. He entered an access code and the door slid open.

Jack walked in, followed by the others. Surveying the room, he expressed his opinion of the interior decorating. "I thought Cardassian architecture was boring. You've surpassed it."

The Vorta kept his smile. "Perhaps you'll find your own quarters more to your taste."

"What do you mean?" asked Patrick anxiously. "We're not supposed to go anywhere alone. It's not allowed. We'll get into trouble. Tell him, Jack."

"You can't separate us. We stay with Lauren."

Lauren ignored everyone, drifting over to the bed and examining it. Satisfied, she curled up and turned her back on the world.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist," Melior replied. The strength of their reactions surprised him, and he noted it for future reference. He gestured for the Jem'Hadar to enter. Patrick clutched the bedpost and had to be forcibly pried away by the soldiers. Backing into a corner, Jack moved a chair in front of him to create a small barricade. "You're just making this harder on yourselves."

"You can't tell us what to do," panted Patrick. He had dragged the bed several feet with Lauren still lying in it and was consequently out of breath.

"Of course I can. You're my prisoners, aren't you?" Melior realized this was getting him nowhere. "Stun them," he ordered the Jem'Hadar. "Then take them to their rooms." Patrick seemed to be the weakest, he would be interrogated first.

Sweat streamed down Nichols' face, trickling into his uniform. He threw down his tools and stood, brushing dirt off his uniform. "I'm still no closer to getting this thing fixed than I was this morning."

"Neither of us are engineers," pointed out Steven reasonably. An instruction manual lay near him, face down on the ground. "Let's stop for lunch. You could use the break. As you said, look on the bright side of things. The replicators, sensors and life support systems are working."

"Of course, all those were still working when we landed. It's the navigation and engines we need to get fixed." Running a hand through sweat damped hair, Nichols stared down at the mess of wires. "At this rate, we'll be stranded here for a week."

Click. "This is a recording of the interrogation of Federation prisoner 24599." The Vorta's voice was cold and calm, assured.

Shuffling noises could be heard as Patrick was brought in and placed on a chair.

"What is your name?" asked Melior, seeking a neutral starting point.

"That's a stupid question."

"Who are you?"

"That's a stupid question."

Melior tried a different approach. "Why is it a stupid question?"

"That's a stupid question."

"If you don't cooperate, you'll never see the others again." His voice was no longer detached. "Now, what is your name?"

"That's a stupid question. Stupid question. Stupid, stupid, stupid," sulked Patrick.

Click. Click. "This is a recording of the interrogation of Federation prisoner 24600." Melior sounded nervous at the prospect.

Heels clicked against the floor, signaling Lauren's arrival.

"What is your name?"

"Are you married?"

A slight pause indicated Melior's hesitation. "That's not relevant. Please, state your name for the record."

"You aren't, are you?" The chair scraped over the metal floor.

"You will remain seated." A hint of panic entered the Vorta's voice.

Footsteps echoed for a few moments, to be replaced by rustling sounds. "You're so tense, just relax and let me help."

"Keep your hands off me," Melior ordered, slightly desperate.

A gasp, followed by a low chuckle.

"You liked that, didn't you?"

"Guards!" Click.

Click. "This a recording of the interrogation of Federation prisoner 24601." His breathing was somewhat ragged and no longer professional.

The doors hissed open and a Jem'Hadar muttered something inaudibly.

"What do you mean you can't find him?"

Click.

Jack pushed open the access panel and dropped lightly into the corridor below. He strode to the nearest door and knocked. It swung open to reveal an upset Patrick.

"Jack!" cried Patrick, rubbing his hands together. "Can we find Lauren and leave now? I don't like it here." Annoyed with his surroundings, Patrick kicked the wall.

Making an impatient noise deep in his throat, Jack growled, "What do you expect? The Dominion is falling apart, another few centuries and it'll be gone. Now, let's go get Lauren."

Patrick had followed Jack out into the corridor before a thought occurred to him. "How'd you know where I was?"

"Finding the interrogation room was easy. I just waited in the conduit until I heard the guards escorting you back and followed them."

Another few steps passed while Patrick pondered this. "Then, how do you know where Lauren is?"

"I thought we'd just ask a guard. Save some time. There's nothing to do here, no one to talk to, and they have horrible manners."