Legacy

            An Alternative History of the Dominion War

                              Year 1

                       Part 3 _ Adjustments

Chapter 14

There was no hard and fast rule about where you stayed at night, and for the 
last three nights, Jaro had spent the night at Justin's lab, working on the plant 
specimens.  It was much more than  a project meant just to cover their 
expedition, and Justin was fascinated by the idea of a usable crop which would 
not require any additional supplies.  If he was to terraform fields which could 
give them a chance to feed themselves, it wouldn't help if there was no seed.  
Jaro was caught up in the excited, but had been very moody as well. 

"Look at this one," said Justin, holding a spine covered sample.  "It has these 
little fruits." 

The were round, and very hard.  There were also very few of them on the 
spindly branch.  "I wish my wife were here.  She studies plants.  She could tell 
you a lot just by simple examination."  Jaro quit smiling.   "Perhaps, someday, 
" he finished as his voice trailed off. 

Justin didn't offer false hope.  "I do pity you.  I believe I'm much better off, now, 
having no family to miss." 

Jaro was examining the round fruits.  "These are more like big hard seed balls 
than fruit.  I'll bet there's a lot of seed inside.  We should try to find more the 
next time out." 

"Yes.  We should try to grow it this year." 

Jaro thumped the ball but nothing happened.  It didn't even rattle.  "If you 
think so.  But it's so sparse.  We might not get much for the space it takes." 

Justin shrugged.  "Still good to try," he muttered. 

Jaro thought to himself that after the frustration of the *other* project, this one 
was pure enjoyment.  They could do all of it in the open.  And Justin was 
pursuing it with almost giddy excitement. 

Jaro had to admit he liked that.  And Justin's quarters were so beautiful and 
large.  He liked spending time there..  

But as small and utilitarian as it was, Jaro wanted to spend some time at 
home.  "I'm getting very tired," he said.  "I would like to spend some time at 
home." He'd gotten breakfast late, and was about to leave for a late lunch, 
when someone knocked on the door. 

He recognized the young man, one of Vance's staff whom had quit when the 
takeover occurred.  He and the others had stayed to themselves, and Jaro had 
never met him.  But he did recognize the tone of his voice, and the urgency of 
what he had to say.  He invited the young man inside.  

"You have to be a lot more careful," he began as soon as the door was closed.  
Jaro was surprised by the worry in the young man's voice.  "Were you aware 
that you and Mr. Blanchard were followed all the way from here to the hills?  
Or you could easily have been observed hiding your machines?" 

Jaro tensed up, suddenly very worried.  "We were collecting plant specimens," 
he said, but he didn't think he sounded convincing even to himself. 

"And hiding contraband.  Look, I'm on your side.  I don't know what your 
planning and really don't want to, but I do know its secret.  At least somebody 
around here has some nerve." 

Jaro didn't know what to think.  His carefully guarded sense of security 
depended on believing they were unobserved.  The young man had shattered 
that feeling, and Jaro was now very uncertain again.  "Are you saying it could 
be discovered?"  he asked, his voice full of worry. 

The young man smiled.  "Not now.  You have friends.  The equipment is safe.  
When you want to use it, let me know.  I'll get you to it.  We got it far away from 
the cave, too.  You could have led them to the rest." 

Jaro was confused, and suspicious.  "You were careful with the chemicals?  
They could be useless if the containers are damaged." 

"Don't worry.  They won't find them and they will be in perfect condition.  I'm in 
H_4.  Just let me know."  Jaro was about to ask his name but he opened the 
door and left.  

Jaro stood staring at the door, wondering if this was a good idea again.  He was 
meeting Justin for lunch.  He thought a late afternoon walk was in order after 
they were done. 

                              *****

Sisko was surprised when Willman arrived with his own supply summaries, 
standing awkwardly in the office, looking for the right desk.  It was warm inside 
and Sisko did not close his door unless it was necessary.  He asked the doctor 
to come in. 

Willman was impatient.  "Ben, why don't you get out of this stuffy office and get 
some lunch."  The tone was light but the eyes were grim. 

Sisko met his eyes.  He said, cordially, "I wouldn't mind that.  I'm told the chef 
today is one of the new people."  He followed Willman as he wandered across 
the square, after getting their meal, and sat at a table in the far corner, with no 
one else in evidence. 

Over the meal, when conversation wasn't obvious, Willman had explained his 
news quickly.  "I have a reliable source.  I'm told that Blanchard is planning 
some kind of test.  He's got machines hidden somewhere, and he's using some 
of them.  He's already got them out.  I know where they are hidden  . . . "  He 
glanced at the crowd, looking for particular people and not finding any of them.  
"Good.  They aren't watching." 

Sisko said, very quietly, "I didn't want to let them go.  If the request had come 
across my desk as just a piece of paper I'd have said not yet.  But he was 
sneaky.  The idea of the survey is just too good an idea not to approve when 
everyone is watching." 

"No, you had to let them go.  They aren't ready yet.  We'll stop it before they 
are.  And I did warn you about him." 

"I know."  Sisko stared at the crowd.  "But he's excited about this.  I could hear 
it in his voice when he proposed it, whatever else they had in mind." 

"That's the sad part, he's sacrificing one idea for another." 

Sisko had eaten most of his food, and paused, slowly letting out the deep 
breath he was trying to calm himself with.  "I'm going to meet with Dax later.  
I'll give her word of a meeting."  Willman nodded, and both men finished their 
food.  Neither of them betrayed how anxious they were to go. 

                              ***** 

The meeting was short and rushed, like it had to be.  Willman had already 
outlined the location of the machines, and the best way to get there.  "Recently 
Blanchard and his friend got permission to go out toward the mountains.  They 
gathered native plants.  They probably moved the machine then too . . . "  
Sisko's voice trailed off. 

Dax was looking at the map.  "This will take more than lunch.   I can't possibly 
get away that long, at least for a day or so. We can't go snooping without a 
reason." 

Willman didn't look happy.  "I reluctantly agree.  We just can't take the 
chance." 

"As soon as you can . . . somehow I'll clear things."  Sisko was very grim.  "If 
you find it, destroy it.  I want that test stopped, without alerting Blanchard and 
his friend if possible.  If we're lucky they won't try again." 

"I wouldn't count on that," said Willman.  "You don't know Justin when he's 
really committed to something."  He looked Sisko in the eyes.  "The only real 
way may be stopping him personally.  Destroying equipment will only delay 
their efforts." 

"Only as a last resort."  Sisko knew he could keep them from having the chance 
to try, but that would openly implicate more than Blanchard and the Bajoran 
in the act.  He knew their experiment was illegal, but he had no desire to 
destroy them.  Still, somehow, they had to be stopped.  He tried to believe it 
was not already too late. 

                              *****

Ben Sisko stared out the open window, watching the faint glow of distant 
lights.  It was the middle of the night and, once again, he couldn't sleep.  He 
couldn't get Willman's news, and the implications of it, out of his head.  He was 
impatient about their private expedition.  But he could not get past the worry 
that it would be way too late; that quite possibly all of this was pointless.  The 
Vorta, with his slimy smile, was watching as they nibbled on the bait, not quite 
tripping the wire.  But it was just a matter of time now.  He hoped Blanchard, 
with his secret experiment, had not already snapped the trap and the hammer 
was just hovering above them. 

And he could not dismiss his feelings about Jadzia's odd, disturbing mood 
either.  It was so unlike her.  He'd known Dax for much his life, and the Trill, in 
both incarnations, simply did not give up like this.  Jadzia was so quiet.  She 
hardly spoke to anyone, and by and large was preoccupied with her 
inner_demon when not dealing with work.  But that little glimpse inside her, 
and the terror he'd seen still haunted him.  She'd said she saw death.  He 
wanted to dismiss it, but knew Dax was not given to fantasy.  He could not 
help but believe that she had, indeed, seen something which terrified her.  That 
she had grown more withdrawn over time did not make him feel any better.  
Finally falling asleep, he dreamt of a mysterious dark place where death 
lurked, and woke from the nightmare to stare at darkness that surrounded 
him, wondering what hid behind its veil. 

                              *****

James finished his last stack of papers, filling them in the rear cabinet, as 
Morris came into the room.  "You done yet, James?" asked Morris.  

"Yes, with this stack," he said. 

"Okay, we're all ready," yelled Morris, to the outer room.  Rafferson mumbled 
something as Morris took James's arm and towed him out the door. 

It was really unnecessary.  He didn't mind going to dinner anymore.  He talked 
to them, seemed to listen and respond, and nobody bothered him after they 
were done.  Morris had gotten a little too close, following him home before.  
This was better.  What they didn't know was they were just pale shadows in his 
mind.  He couldn't get away from them, but this way they didn't intrude into 
his real world, the one that came alive when he painted. 

He was still busy adding people to the painting.  The night before last he had 
painted his grandfather.  The old man was telling a story to a group of children, 
and James had finished them the night before.  Having added the last touch to 
his grandfather, he finished the nightly routine, bathing and taking out the 
next days clothes.  He dressed for bed, and sat on the cushion he used for such 
purposes until he had taken in the whole world, and could hear the children 
giggling and the sounds of his grandfather's animal imitations. 

Totally lost in his world, he had gone to bed.  He slept wonderfully well that 
night, better than ever before.  He had missed his grandfather so badly.  He 
had felt alone.  But now Grandfather was with him, and would always be.  
Sometimes that day, at work, he would let himself hear the voices of the family 
and friends at his park.  Sorting his papers and filing the endless reports that 
made life possible on Cyrus now, he knew his grandfather was near.  He was 
very happy, actually cheerful.  The food was good that day, and James was 
enthusiastic about eating.  He surprised Morris by being ready for dinner 
before Morris was.  James wondered why everyone around him looked so grim. 

That night, and for several more after, he didn't add anything to the painting.  
He just sat and looked and listened to Grandfather.  Sometimes he was 
himself, sitting in this room.  Other times he was one of the giggling children.  
But he could not bear to lose the intense focus on the one man in the whole 
world that actually cared what he dreamed. 

                              *****

Walter Vance wanted to scream at them, all of them.  Not just Sisko and his 
ilk, but the others who were digging the mud channel and considered 
themselves lucky, and even those who were doing nothing, because he believed 
that that was not enough.  There was a rage at Them, watching, waiting, 
playing with the strings as if they were personal toys.  He ate his food, and 
spent the morning reading.  He took a walk in the early afternoon, sometimes 
as far as the hills which were off limits at night.  Occasionally he thought about 
staying, but he would be hungry by then, and he had never been able to stand 
missing his meals.  He would return by dusk, eat his dinner, and go back to 
his room.  Then he would read until bed, and try to sleep.  

But more and more often he couldn't and would give up and read the whole 
night.  He needed to *do* something, to vent his rage and frustration, but he 
was confronted with the reality Sisko had planted in his head the day of their 
meeting.  There was nothing they could do.  But there had to be something, 
small perhaps, but meaningful that he could do himself. It had been another 
long night, and he had slept only a few hours after finally getting too sleepy to 
stay awake.  He didn't have to get up so early, but the only thing holding his 
life together was his routine.  He showered, and while getting dressed he 
noticed the ID tag he wore on a cord of material at night.  

He held the wet material, preparing to transfer the pin to his clothes, when an 
idea came to him.  He removed the round of cloth and laid it on the table.  He 
waited for a moment, but nothing happened.  He sat on his bed, waiting, but 
nothing came of it.  It was time for breakfast, and he looked at the little pin, 
their mark of servitude.  Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the room. 

It was as if he was alive again, like a giant weight had been lifted from him and 
he felt light_ headed.  He even spoke to someone at his table, a rare thing for 
Walter.  He felt like a child with a secret, and wondered when someone would 
notice.  He finished and turned in his plate, noting an odd expression on the 
servers face, but he still didn't see.  Walter was disappointed.  But no one 
would notice if he went back to his room. 

He decided to see the progress of the mud channel.  There were crews working 
at several locations, from just beyond the point where the existing channel had 
been blocked to near the side where it would join with the administrative area's 
water supply.  It was already hot, and most of the people looked overheated.  
But they looked satisfied, too.  He pitied them.  He felt superior to all of them at 
that moment, the lone man with courage.  Several people spoke to him, small 
talk, and he returned it almost without thinking.  It was a skill he had 
developed during his days promoting the project.  He kept waiting, impatiently, 
for someone to notice, to say anything of the missing pin.  But none of them 
did. 

He was warm and he ate his lunch hurriedly, retiring to the shade provided by 
the buildings for the afternoon, forgoing his walk.  It was a popular place to sit 
out the heat.  He had more conversations, more small talk, and watched as the 
children played games in the shady area.  He even went so far as to finger 
where the pin would have been.  But nobody even looked.  He saw all of theirs, 
though, on earrings, pinned in the hair, or to clothes.  He realized they might 
just think he wore it on a chain, but he never had before. 

When it started to get cool, and dusk approached, he understood that they 
didn't see him.  He kept to himself too much.  He must change that.  If he was 
to make them notice he must cease to be invisible.  

He had stopped worrying about the pin by dinner.  It was too shadowy to tell 
anyway.  He found a few conversations he actually enjoyed.  It occurred to him 
he was doing it all wrong.  He had to be part of them for his silent protest to 
have any effect.  The next day, he would spend as he had this one, and perhaps 
they would notice that Walter Vance was still alive. 

He read a little that night, but it didn't appeal to him.  He looked at the pin, 
still attached to its cord, and almost put it on.  He was a little apprehensive, 
noting that for the first time in the day he was alone.  He even picked it up, but 
put it back.  He would not surrender.  He would maintain his protest.  
Tomorrow, they would notice.  For the first time in a long time, he slept easily. 

But a few hours later, he heard a noise.  It wasn't one of the odd sounds his 
housemate made.  It wasn't loud, but near.  It woke him, and he opened his 
eyes to see three Jem'Hadar standing in his little room. 

Walter was terrified.  He backed as far away from them as he could, and tried 
to escape when they reached for him, but was pulled out of bed anyway.  One 
of them held the cord with the ID tag.  It was put over his head.  Shaking, 
Walter pleaded that he would not do it again, meaning every word.  He would 
find something else. But they did not let him go.  He was shoved forward 
against one of them while his wrists were pulled behind him and tied. He was 
roughly pushed back against the other, too scared to move. They forced open 
his mouth and gagged him.  Walter's heart was pounding in anticipation and 
there was a loud roaring in his ears.  The Jem'Hadar behind him held him 
firmly by his shoulders, but Walter was too terrified to resist.  He stared at 
them, eyes open wide, unable to look away. 

The third Jem'Hadar, standing behind the two holding him, handed the one in 
front a device.  He remembered it from when the ID tags had been set.  He 
followed its approach with his eyes, suddenly remembering the rule, trying to 
breath through his nose because he could barely breath at all.  

The device was aimed at his tag.  It beeped, and made a series of electronic 
sounds. Walter stared at it wide_eyed until they shoved his head to the side 
and he could only see the wall of his room.  

They stabbed it into his neck, right at the base, into the muscle between neck 
and shoulders.  He bit down on the gag, trying to be silent, but whimpered 
anyway.  It was pulled out just as suddenly, leaving something behind.  He was 
numb, knowing what it was.  He heard another whirring sound, and the pain 
disappeared, as they healed the wound.  It all sounded very far away to Walter, 
too stunned by the realization that he was the very first to be tagged internally 
to notice much anymore.  He head was released and the Jem'Hadar looked 
blurry from the tears falling that filled his eyes.  They pushed him forward 
again, and his hands were untied.  He didn't resist.  They pulled out the gag 
and threw him back on his bed.  He watched in misty eyed shock as they 
disappeared.  

He lay the way he had fallen for what seemed like hours.  He was sure they 
would come back and violate him again.  He muscles stiffened up and he had 
to relax them, and finally felt his neck.  There was nothing to tell him where 
they had sliced open his skin.  But when he moved he knew the thing was 
there, the device he couldn't remove, the device nobody would know was there 
unless he told them. 

He would remember this night for a long time, he knew.  And yet, he suspected 
that the outer tag, the one they had replaced, didn't matter now.  He would 
wear it, but when he had gotten to know enough of the people out there for 
someone to see it was gone, he would try again.  But not tomorrow, or too 
soon.  He was too scared of them coming back. 

Lying awake, he remembered Willman's story of Chandler and wondered if he 
had indeed gotten to be their first victim. 

                              *****

The Vorta was talking, elaborating some point which he had not yet gotten to.  
Sisko watched and listened, or at least looked like he was.  But his thoughts 
were elsewhere.  Sometimes the Vorta went on forever about something 
unimportant, as he was doing now.  Eventually he'd make his point, but until 
then, Sisko was barely listening. 

He had been feeling this way during meetings since his encounter with Vance, 
very distant, and detached from it all. He felt nothing.  Deep inside, where the 
Vorta would not find him, he hid the real Sisko, and wore the face that was 
expected.  There had been more meetings of late, most as pointless as this one.  

Glebaroun launched himself into a big speech.  Sisko thought to himself that 
he would be awhile.  He watched the Vorta as he spoke, alluding to the future 
of what was now Sisko's home.  He was  curious what he would be saying if he 
was capable of honesty, wondering if he already knew of Blanchard's activities. 
Somehow, they needed to stop Blanchard's test.  Sitting and watching the 
Vorta, he became more and more certain that the future, the one the Vorta 
envisioned, was far different than the one they dreamed of, and Blanchard was, 
without knowing it, leading them straight into the trap. 

The Vorta continued to talk, while Sisko pulled himself further back, as if he 
was watching something from a distance.  He listened to the particular words 
used by Glebaroun, and the enthusiasm that might be taken as genuine if it 
wasn't for the smile, thinking about Jadzia's sense of foreboding.  He was 
finding it increasingly hard to believe that the Vorta did not know, and forced 
himself to bury the thought.  

The Vorta was looking at him, expecting a reaction to what he was going to say 
next.  "Captain, I realize that while things are a bit difficult now, it will not 
always be so. I believe this little rocky planet could someday be quite green, in 
fact.  Of course, it will take a little time, but I think in the end you will all be 
quite grateful to the Dominion for our help and for our great patience as well."  
He smiled, and Sisko had a chill run down his spine.  Now he was certain that 
Glebaroun knew, and he had just been warned that there was only so much 
time left before all the tolerance was used up. 

                              *****

Walter had just gotten to sleep, after hours of trying, when he heard the sound.  
It was a small sound, rather undefined, but it woke him.  Every sound had 
awakened him since they had come.  He would sleep, eventually, when he was 
too tired to stay awake.  But it would not be a restful sleep.  Every noise was an 
interruption, even if he fell back into it instantly. 

He had never gone back to the old pattern of staying alone,  and had indeed 
gotten to know more of the world around him.  And more and more he was 
becoming convinced that it was wrong to cooperate.  Every time he could not 
sleep because fear filled him after a noise,  and each day he dragged himself 
through, added to the seething anger that was growing in him.  He needed to 
let it out.  And the next morning, while dressing, he had an inspiration. 

He felt his neck where they had placed the internal tag, and decided it was time 
to make his point.  He would, once again, make his silent protest.  If they came 
the next night, he didn't care.  He could not live with the anger trapped inside 
him anymore. 

Breakfast had come and gone, and Walter sat with several friends, waiting for 
the rest.  In a few hours, those who had finished their shift at the mud channel 
would come and join them.  He realized he didn't care so much if they noticed.  
This was for him, and for Them.  If his friends noticed, then he would explain.  
If they didn't it would still serve its purpose.  He rubbed his neck, briefly, 
feeling the small lump in the muscle.  He scarcely noticed it anymore, but 
always knew it was there. 

More people arrived.  Normally, they exchanged small talk and stories.  People 
with children brought them along to play, and for what had become very 
unofficial tutoring sessions.  Eventually someone would provide the children 
with some sort of education, but for now they preferred to keep it very private, 
worried about what sort of things the Dominion might want to teach.  A group 
of children in the midst of adults, seemingly playing, would not attract 
unwanted attention.  

Others came just to not be alone. It used up a few hours.  Walter had gotten to 
feel comfortable with these people.  He liked them and appreciated the 
company.  He glanced toward the main pathway, waiting for several particular 
friends who were digging rocks from the mud channel. 

It was hot, and getting muggier as noon approached.  He and his friends would 
retire to a shady spot later, to talk and play cards.  Walter had never done that.  
They had taught him, and he had come to look forward to the afternoons.  It 
passed the time, and he found life was far more tolerable when he had friends. 
Ray and Tara would be back soon, and he began to wonder if they would 
notice.  

He saw things differently.  He no longer felt superior to these people, now 
sharing their lives and frustrations, with nothing to do and less to look forward 
to.  He almost wished he could get a job working on the mud channel.  Ray was 
very proud of the section he was working on, even if it wasn't for more than a 
few hours a day.  It was something to anticipate, to wake up for in the morning.  
It was an accomplishment you could see.  Walter understood, and envied them.  
His satisfaction had been denied and even the peace of sleep had been replaced 
by nightmares.
 
It had turned into a hot muggy day.  Tara had gone to change into her day 
clothes, out of the damp work clothes, and Walter had unbuttoned his shirt.  
They were talking quietly, watching the children play, when Ray suddenly 
noticed something was missing.  He took a hold of Walter's shirt, and checked 
the collar.  Then he checked for a chain.  There was none.  He looked at Walter, 
concerned.  "Where's your pin, Walter?" 

"I took it off."  Walter tried to sound defiant, but ended up sounding scared 
instead. 

"What happens if They notice?"  Ray looked worried. 

"They put one inside you."  Walter couldn't keep the memories back.  He said 
bitterly, "It hurts when they do it."  He hadn't planned on telling Ray, but it felt 
better to have told somebody. 

"When?" asked Ray, plainly shocked.

"About a month ago.  Nobody even noticed I wasn't wearing it, nobody but 
them.  I was asleep.  I never told anyone." 

"Why?" asked Ray, still stunned.

"I had to let out the anger.  They stole all my dreams." 

Ray looked down, pushing away his own memories.  "They stole mine, too.  And 
her's.  Don't do this to yourself, Walter." 

Annoyed, Walter defended himself.  "I'm not asking you to do it.  I have to live 
with the nightmares they gave me.  If they want to come again I don't care." 

"But what if someone else notices?  What if you don't tell them what they did to 
you?  It's not fair, Walter.  If somebody wants to join your protest, fine, but 
don't deceive people.  If you do that you're as bad as Them."  Ray looked at 
him, disappointed. 

Walter looked at his friend, shocked.  "I never considered that."  He buttoned 
up his shirt, standing up.  "I don't think I want to talk about that night.  I'll be 
back in a few minutes." 

"I'll be here.  Tara should be back soon.  We have a game to play." 

A little while later Walter returned, wearing his pin on the necklace.  Ray 
nodded.  But Walter was filled with a sense of loss he could not escape.  He 
would find a way, but right now, he needed his friends more than revenge. 

                              *****

Justin and Jaro had set out early, almost before dawn, laden with bags and a 
small cart.  They were to collect native plants.  A notice had been filed that they 
intended to collect further samples of the most promising of their previous trip, 
but they had not said when.  They were already gone before anyone realized 
they had left. 

It was very hot, and extremely muggy that day.  About half the way along they 
met the young man who had come to Jaro's door, and given the collection bags 
to him.  He passed them to several others, who would guarantee they were full 
of the requested plant samples.  Blanchard had been adamant about that; the 
plant testing had become an essential part of their plan, and he wanted enough 
samples for a miniature farm.  Justin and Jaro then continued on with their 
guide.  He led them past the main trails to the location of their equipment.  He 
then left, to keep watch.  

He was one of the regular visitors to the area, one of the people who drifted 
away from the settlement during the day but always came home in time.  They 
were tolerated, thought they were not supposed be there.  No one would be 
surprised to see him. 

Justin and Jaro needed the entire day to finish the test.  It took a long time to 
mix the chemicals, being careful to get just the right amount of water, and even 
longer to load them.  At least it was outside and the fumes were blown away in 
a light breeze.  But both of them were filthy, and smelled strongly of the 
chemicals.  They'd have to wash off what they could before returning home.  

The test itself was almost an anti_climax.  The injector was put into place and 
started.  In a matter of minutes it was done.  

Then, all that remained was to wait.  But the machine was moved first, so as 
not to give away the test site.  Their helpers hid the  machine, and if questioned 
neither of them could tell where it was.  

It would raise a terrible alarm if it was found, but it couldn't give away either 
the test site or the cave.  Finally, very late, without time to wash and have 
dinner, Justin and Jaro returned heavily laden with plant samples.  An aide of 
Justin's brought their food.  Justin was already planning the construction of 
his indoor hothouse in deep conversation with his friend. 

There was nothing to show that they had changed everything to come that day. 

                              *****

Julian watched as Willman ran the tricorder over his leg.  He no longer felt 
comfortable with Willman, even when he was just a patient.  Willman's bedside 
manner, distinctly more friendly than they way he treated his staff, had not 
changed, but Julian could no longer see it as real. 

"Well, Doctor, your leg is about as healed as it's going to get.  Congratulations." 

Julian didn't particularly feel like celebrating.  He had only recently gotten a 
good look at the ruin that was left, badly scarred and mangled, and could not 
as yet consider that to be "healed".  It was an unpleasant reminder of the kind 
of world in which he was going to have to live.  

He watched, nervous, as Willman and one of the nurses lowered the support 
structure and his leg to the bed.  It was unfastened, carefully, from his knee 
down.  When they were done, his leg was lifted out of the brace, and one nurse 
placed pillows for it to rest on while Willman removed the support.  His leg was 
gently placed on the pillows. 

It was the first time in months that his leg was free of support.  It was a 
moment he had both awaited and dreaded, and looking at the scarred and 
damaged leg, he almost wanted the support back.  

It was like a weight that was too heavy.  But the worse part was the amount of 
pain moving it at all made shoot through his leg. 

"Rest for now, I'll examine it tomorrow.  We'll get you started on therapy 
tomorrow, as well."  Willman noticed the grimace on his face.  "I won't lie.  
There is a lot of nerve damage there.  It's going to hurt.  But you still have to 
learn to use it.  Now, try to move your foot." 

He tried.  It sent a stab of pain up his leg and his foot barely moved.  "That's all 
I can manage,"  he whispered after the worst of the pain subsided. 

"It's a good start.  I think you may need a brace for the foot, at least for now.  
I'll have one fitted today.  You need to get up and move around to regain your 
strength." 

Bashir wanted them all to go away.  If they wouldn't give him anything for the 
pain he wanted to leave the throbbing leg still until it stopped hurting and just 
sleep.  Everything below his knee was consumed in the waves of agony.  He 
didn't have any desire to get out of bed, let alone walk, quite yet.  He leaned his 
head back, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths trying to calm himself and 
make the hurting stop. 

"I'll do an evaluation in a week or so, but I expect you'll be here for another two, 
three weeks," Willman said offhandedly.  "Any questions?" 

Bashir just wanted to be left alone.  He shook his head.  The nurses left.  
Willman didn't.  "There really isn't anything I can do for the pain right now.  
But I'll have them get you something to help you sleep.  That will help."  
Willman almost sounded sympathetic.  Bashir was confused.  He wished the 
real Willman would raise his hand. 

Later that day, Lonnie and a couple of tecks showed up to fit the brace.  She 
made sure he was sedated first, and he spent the rest of the day sleeping, 
dreaming worried dreams of the future. 

                              *****

Willman had come to Sisko that morning, not bothering with an excuse.  He 
had suggested another walk, and they had barely left the building before 
Willman had told him.  He knew where the machine was hidden, and they 
must get to it first.  He'd already told Dax and O'Brien, and they were taking an 
early lunch.  

It had been annoying that Willman had sent Dax and O'Brien off to check on 
the equipment himself.  But if it meant finding it before it was used he was 
willing to forgive the doctor. The Vorta had made veiled references to their 
problem three times now.  Each time it had been a little more pointed.  But 
none of the meetings had any real purpose.  He knew what authority he had in 
a situation like this.  It always ended with the ultimate act of sacrifice, using 
"official channels" and turning someone over to the Dominion. 

Sisko had not been sleeping well, worried that he would be forced to consider 
that ultimate option.  But he knew it might come to that.  He wished his people 
could find nothing, but that would simply delay the inevitable.  Finding the 
machine would mean its destruction.  As long as they found no one with it, he 
would not have to consider that option and for a few days the relief would let 
him sleep. 

                              *****

He lay flat on the bed, his eyes closed, trying to ignore the pain.  Therapy had 
ended a little while before, and just wanted to try to sleep.  The muggy late 
summer heat had made the room too hot to draw the curtains, even if the 
distractions were a problem.  At least there were few; almost half the patients 
in the room had been released.  The rest would be soon.  They came back, 
though, to visit.  Even Duncan still came regularly. And with them they 
brought the outside into what had been a refuge from it. 

Lonnie still came regularly, though she was often too busy to stay long.  She 
had promised a longer visit today, and he half_hoped she would have to go.  
They had made him stand that afternoon.  He had someone holding both arms, 
but he had put weight on the leg.  He had even taken a step.  The therapist had 
been impressed, and called it a great achievement.  He had found the level of 
pain it produced more impressive. 

Willman had suspended the lessons, for now, so he could concentrate on his 
therapy.  His orientation into medicine as it existed here was done.  When he 
was strong enough and could get around, he would be working directly with 
Lonnie so both could get a more practical feel for what they had learned.  He 
looked forward to that, despite his worries about what lay outside, and the pain 
that he knew would never disappear. 

But he was worried about Lonnie.  She had changed recently, since the rumors 
about the terraforming experiment had spread everywhere.  She had gotten 
very cautious.  Their personal conversations had lost all the openness.  He 
could tell she was scared, the same fear that was in everyone they met, and 
understood.  He knew better than most just how viscous the Dominion could 
be.  He had written her a letter, "talking" about the fear.  He would manage to 
slip it to her someway. 

The ache in his leg had dimmed by the time she arrived. He missed the smile, 
but doubted she was in much of a mood for it anyway.  She greeted the others, 
and sat on the empty bed next to him.  "I heard about your step.  Dr. Willman 
was most impressed." 

"I could have done without it."  He said, hesitantly, unsure of her mood.  

"You have to start sometime."  She looked at him, a hint of a smile.  "It's so 
stuffy in here, how would you like to go outside?" 

It was the worst idea he could think of, making him leave his bed and move his 
leg, but he understood that the best conversation he was going to get was 
reminders of things he didn't want to remember.  "I don't think I'm up to 
walking yet," he said. 

"You won't have to."  She left and returned in a few minutes, pushing a 
wheelchair.  She helped him into it, as gently as she could. 

It was much less stuffy outside, and a little cooler.  She pushed the chair to a 
deserted bench partly shaded by a building.  She sat on the bench, not looking 
at him. 

"Have you heard?" she asked, almost whispering. "I guess not."  She looked 
numb and scared.  He started to feel nervous. 

"They found terraforming equipment, used recently.  I guess they destroyed it, 
but . . . . "  She looked at him, and bit her lip nervously.  "They know.  They 
have to." 

He couldn't think of anything to say.  It was like a bad dream come true.  He 
remembered the morning he had come to in the barracks at the internment 
camp, and felt almost the same now.  "I wrote something," he said slowly, 
quietly.  "Can you . . . . " 

She sat next to him, taking the pad from him and hiding it.  "I'll read it first.  
But I don't think we can do this anymore.  It might be too risky." 

He nodded.  He was looking around the small square, where here and there 
people sat in silence.  The rumor had not taken long to spread.  "I wouldn't 
want to be whoever did this," he finally said. 

Lonnie squeezed his hand.  He didn't even realize she had been holding it.  He 
was far away, half lost in a nightmare.  Hesitant, she said carefully, "Maybe, 
maybe they'll leave everybody else alone." 

He squeezed her hand.  "Maybe we'll be lucky." 

They sat in the sun until she had to go back.  He lay in his bed the rest of the 
day, remembering what it was like to live with the Jem'Hadar.  She did the 
afternoon review of patients.  He didn't think either of them would sleep that 
night, but wouldn't be alone.. 

                              *****

The meeting was secret, and its grim nature was written on the faces of all of 
them.  There were no positions or titles here, just four people desperate to 
prevent disaster. 

"You're certain the equipment had been used," asked Sisko resigned, hoping to 
hear a ray of hope. 

"Absolutely no doubt.  Not only was it dirty, but the chemical sludge inside was 
almost gone."  O'Brien sounded depressed. 

"It shouldn't be hard to find the test sight," offered Dax, "unless it's a very 
small patch.  But it might look a little suspicious if we go searching."  Even 
Dax's usually distant voice sounded worried. 

The four of them sat for a minute, contemplating what this meant for the 
future.  Finally, Willman broke the silence.  Looking at Sisko, he said softly, 
"It's time to be the bad guys." 

O'Brien looked around the room.  "You think that will make a difference?" 
Sisko sighed.  "Even if it doesn't, we have to try.  And, I suspect it just might.  
It won't help Blanchard or his people, but it might help the rest of us." 

"The rumor mill's been pretty busy.  They all know the details.  It's got people 
on edge, and they're scared."   Miles thought for a minute.  "Blanchard has 
been spending an awful lot of time with his Bajoran friend.  They've been taking 
a lot of walks out of town too.  The other day they barely made it back before 
dark.  They were real dirty, too.  I wonder . . . . " 

Willman was getting impatient.  "What we *need* to do is find out where they 
have the bulk of it hidden.  Destroy it and there won't be anything left to find.  
And come down as hard as you can on those involved.  I don't think half 
measures are going to do much this late.  That is, if you want my opinion." 

"Go on," said Sisko.

"I think I know the general location.  It has to be in the caves that honeycomb 
the mountains behind us.  They are the only place a scan wouldn't have found 
the equipment.  The only trouble is there are so many caves in those 
mountains that you would almost have to know which one you were looking 
for." 

"Do they connect at all?" asked Miles. 

"Yes and no.  A few do, but most of them have a series of small caves which 
dead_end in a single large round cave.  If I were going to hide something, I'd 
take that approach, where nobody is going to accidentally find the stuff.  The 
problem is if we go snooping around there, it's bound to raise suspicion with all 
the wrong people." 

"So, what do you suggest?" ask Sisko, wearily. 

"Make the area above us off limits without permission.  If they ask, we give it to 
them.   And follow them.  I know this will inconvenience a lot of people.  But 
this isn't a popularity contest.  You're not going to like what they call you.  But 
all of that is besides the point.  Rumors don't matter.  People's grumbles don't 
really matter.  But they aren't going to tolerate wholesale violations of their 
rules like this.  The aim of our plan has to be finding the equipment and 
destroying it, and making a few examples for people to remember.  I really don't 
think anything less is worth the bother."  

"What if we bring in Blanchard and ask him about it?" asked Sisko.  

"I don't know if that is a good idea right now.  I think he has an experiment 
going.  If I know Justin he won't hear anything anybody says unless it fits his 
plans." 

Sisko was frustrated.  They stood on the edge of disaster and Blanchard would 
never see it.  "Would he admit to this experiment if we asked, given the 
evidence?" 

"Perhaps.  If he's finished.  He'd never take a chance on you closing it down if 
he wasn't.  He'd just move everything and we'd never find it.  And he'd probably 
hurry it along too.  I don't think confronting him is the best thing right now." 

"What about Tarlan?  He has to be involved.  If they're still busy I'll bet he's the 
one doing the leg work.  We should keep an eye on him,"  Miles offered. 

"That might be more productive," agreed Willman.  "I still wouldn't confront 
him, though.  Just keep track of him." 

"What if they are done?" asked Dax.  "I doubt they'll go anywhere near the site 
in that case." 

"Then Ben can use some of that discretionary authority he's got."  Sisko began 
to look uncomfortable.  Willman looked at him.  "Ben, you have to do 
something to end this.  Whatever it takes.  If it takes making a sacrifice of 
Blanchard you will have to do that." 

"Only as a last resort," said Sisko.  "And with proof.  "He looked grimly at the 
others.  "But if that is what it comes down to, I'm willing to do it." 

There were other things to say, but the secret meeting could not be allowed to 
look suspicious.  They all had official work to finish.  They left with a nod.  
Jadzia stayed behind. 

When they were gone, she studied his face.  "Are you willing to turn him over?"   

Sisko had a look in his eyes she hadn't seen before.  "Old Man, I sat up the last 
three nights trying to find some other way.  It's either a test or a trap.  If it's a 
trap, then we already set it off and it won't change much for Blanchard or any 
of his friends.  But if it *is* a test, I just might be able to save the rest of us.  I 
have to try."  There was pain in his eyes, but determination as well.  He had 
made up his mind, and should, by some miracle, Justin Blanchard live a long 
safe life, Benjamin Sisko had already paid the price. 

End, Legacy, Year 1, Part 3, Chapter 14