Behind him, Garak heard a sound. He recognized it from too many times in this past. An explosion.

He whirled, staring at the old judicial center-turned-clinic. Dark smoke billowed up from one end. At the base of the pillar, he saw the glow.

Fire.

One thought.

"Julian!" he bellowed, and began to run.

"No, you can't--"

Garak ruthlessly shoved the security officer out of the way and threw himself into the fiery building.

* * * *

Blake's frantic voice ended abruptly. The entire room shook at the force of the explosion. Julian and Aya were thrown against the counter, and then to the floor, their case of hypos scattering as it flew across the room. The room began to fill with smoke, an ominous thick fog that stretched across the ceiling, sending gray tendrils down like a blind beast searching for them.

"What happened?" Aya gasped, laying on her back, staring up at the smoke in shock.

Julian tried to stand up. "I don't--"

"Dr. Bashir!" Julian's combadge chirped. "Blake just cut off! And our sensors picked up an explosion--"

"Nightingale!" He caught a lungful of smoke and coughed. "Sensors up again?" Another cough as he dropped back to his knees. "Start beaming people ... out of here!"

"What?" came the started response. "What's going on?"

"Beam people ... out of the clinic! All life forms!"

"Beam people--" A pause. "Doctor, we're still having problems with transporters...."

"Dear God...."

Whoever was at the other end of the signal figured it out and pulled himself together. "All right, we're gonna try boosting the gain, maybe synchronize the transporter rooms. The other ships are joining us. We should be able to start beaming people directly to sick bay in two to three minutes."

Two to three minutes. "Too long!" he coughed again. "But ... do it.... Just get ... everybody out...."

Beside him, Aya Kato struggled to her hands and knees. "The quarantine fields--!"

"We have a cure ... won't need them anymore.... We've got to get out of here ... get our people out of here.... Stay low, let's go!"

* * * *

Somehow Bashir and Kato found their way out.

The square in front of the clinic was filled with a milling crowd, and more people were spilling out the back and side entrances, still escaping the fire and smoke. Some of the staff dragged, carried, or supported patients. Those who were well enough to walk, staggered on their own legs. In the garish orange light, they were eerie shapes against the flames. Free of the roar of the fire, the two doctors could now hear screams, shouts, and moans -- confusion, anger, terror, pain. The ferrocrete walls crackled with the increasing heat and heavy stone floors groaned ominously. Under the acrid smoke, they could smell burning supplies, as medicine, food, equipment, building materials, stores of clothing and blankets went up in flames. There were whiffs of something sweeter, cooking flesh.

They cringed as something on the upper level exploded, and the roof erupted for a second, gushing toxic ash and sparks into the wind. Bashir grabbed Kato's arm, trying to shield her in case the shower of sparks came their way.

Another figure appeared from inside the inferno, arms waving frantically at a halo of fire. The figure collapsed almost beside them. Behind her, the sides of the entryway caved together in angry sparks. Dull, heavy thuds confirmed the floor had given way and dropped into the lower storage level.

"Eske!"

Both threw themselves at their comrade, batting out the fire on her hair and smoldering clothes. The nurse didn't move as Bashir lightly rested his fingers on her burnt neck to check for a pulse. Charred strands of hair crumbled to ash as he brushed them.

"She's still alive, but not good...."

"We've got to set up a triage -- get help from the other stations," Aya said shakily.

"Yes, yes, and find a way to account for everyone, to know who's all right, who's hurt, and who's dead." Past experience-turned-reflex began to take over. Julian had been through so much in eight years, even this was something he knew how to deal with.

Until:

"So much for the vaunted Federation," Bashir heard a gloating voice say.

Bashir whipped around. Mondrig.

"How can you laugh at such a terrible thing? When so many people are hurt and may have been killed?" he asked incredulously.

"I can laugh ... because I caused it."

"What?" Bashir snapped.

"Yes." Mondrig's ruthless smile widened. "It is an act of the Coterie of the Cardassian People. You will heed us, now that you have seen we can strike at you anywhere, and we are not afraid to flex our power."

"An act ... of the Cardassian people?" he repeated in disbelief, then pointed back at the building. "There are Cardassian people dying in there! Sick and injured and burning! Your own people!"

"If they stooped to come to you, they have forgotten what it means to be Cardassian, and they deserve whatever happens to them!" Mondrig sneered. "Ah, what a beautiful fire, what a perfect symbol...."

Shock was giving way to anger in the human.

"Not as large an explosion as I'd hoped," Mondrig continued, grinning malevolently. "I had to work with raw bilitrium ore rather than the refined material. Ahhh, now that would have been a beautiful sight -- it would have taken out the entire clinic and probably several blocks around it."

"You bastard...." He was shaking with anger.

"My parentage is of little matter to you!" Mondrig growled.

"Aya, find Ptacek. Tend to the wounded. Contact the Nightingale, do what you have to do." Julian's voice was rough. Some dark emotion swept through him, a fury so deep and intense he'd never felt its like before. He marveled at the feeling, welcomed it, let it consume him. He took a step toward Mondrig.

The Cardassian's eyes widened, and he stared at the doctor as though suddenly aware of menace. He backed up a step, then turned and bolted.

Bashir followed.

* * * *

Garak was lost in the smoke. He couldn't find Julian. He couldn't find anyone. He couldn't find a way out. Groping, he felt hard shapes as he ran into walls and furniture, but couldn't see. Breathing.... Getting harder.... Couldn't breathe....

Something gripped his arm, hard. Pulled.

He followed, lacking strength to do anything else.

Suddenly, light. Sunshine, not fire.

Garak coughed hard. Tears ran down his face, trying to wash out the smoke and soot.

"Garak! Are you all right! Here, I'll take him...."

Blinking hard, Garak found himself staring up into worried human eyes, darker eyes than those he'd sought.

"Jake," he rasped. Turning his head, he saw the man who'd dragged him out -- a Cardassian in military garb. "Glinn Melleen....?"

The glinn had carried out more than one person, Garak realized. Melleen carefully handed off a young Cardassian woman to one of Bashir's staff, the oriental Lieutenant Kato, then turned back toward the burning building.

"No!" A human security officer intercepted him. "You're not going back in there, not again."

"Get out of my way!"

"The place is coming down! We've got everybody out who could still be alive!"

"Everybody who could still be alive...?" Garak looked around frantically at the madhouse.

Medical staff were running everywhere, doing quick triage on the rescued patients and the injured or burned rescuers and other staff. Ptacek was directing their efforts as best she could. Patients were laying on the ground, or propped against the broken wall that lined the old square. Security officers, under Storie's urgent direction, were doing their best to establish some kind of order amid the turmoil. No one seemed to be doing anything to extinguish the fire.

Time slowed. Where was Julian?

"Jil!" A frantic bellow echoed through the makeshift triage area.

Garak watched Gul Madred shove his way through the crowd, followed by several Cardassian soldiers, and his grip reflexively tightened on Jake's arm.

"Where's my daughter!" the gul raved.

"Here! She's here...." There were tears running down Aya's face. "She's here, Gul."

The delicate young Cardassian woman in Aya's arms coughed, held out a hand. "Father...."

Madred dropped to his knees beside them, drinking in his child's living face like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Then he glanced at his soldiers, loyal Directorate all, and scowled.

"Don't just stand there! Help them!"

Two Cardassian children appeared in the melee, hands gripped tightly together. Looking around uncertainly, they spotted Ptacek and flew to her side.

"Ibis! Kehin!" She reached for them, holding them close. "I'm so glad you weren't in the clinic this morning!"

"Ibis?" A stunned voice

"Uncle Rolt!"

The distant stone of Melleen's expression washed away to incredulous joy. He crossed the distance in less than half a dozen steps and scooped up the girl into his arms. She threw her own thin arms around his neck.

How many seconds has passed for those reunions? Too many. But he didn't see the one face he most wanted to see in the square.

"Jake! Where's Julian?" Garak demanded hoarsely.

Jake's eyes widened, and he turned reflexively toward the burning clinic.

"No...."

Aya must have heard them. "Jake! Garak!"

Leaving her young patient in the hands of an orderly with her father hovering over her, Aya joined them.

"We were in the lab when it happened -- we both got out. That man Mondrig, he was standing out here watching, laughing about it. I think he had something to do with it, he was taunting us." She wiped her forearm over her sweaty, soot-and-tear-stained face. "Then he ran, Julian went after him...."

Garak's heart almost stopped again. "Which way!"

She flinched at his painful grip on her other arm. "That way...."

"Garak, wait--" Jake called.

He ignored the two young humans, and raced to save Julian's life.

* * * *

They ran, the panicking Cardassian would-be puppet master and the human pursuer as implacable as a Terran fury.

The streets were mostly empty. Most of the inhabitants were at their chosen task for the day, or were in the refugee camps outside of the city. Many of those who were about, were moving toward the ominous cloud of smoke and the distant shouts, to find out what was going on and to help if they could.

Mondrig dodged one such cluster, then cut to the side, thinking Bashir might lose sight of him behind the small group of Cardassians. He underestimated Julian's enhanced vision and hearing as well as his intellect -- the doctor immediately guessed what Mondrig was hoping, and where he'd gone.

Julian slowed his pace as he entered the alley -- no need to leave himself open to ambush.

Mondrig was at the far end, throwing himself frantically against a high, carved wooden gate that blocked the entrance into whatever was on the other side.

"Mondrig."

The Cardassian turned. Squinting in the uneven alley light, his expression changed from fear to cautious threat.

"You shouldn't have come here alone, human--" Mondrig scooped up a chunk of stone and hurled it abruptly.

Bashir dodged it with laughable ease, still approaching, anger glowing white-hot in his soul.

"Mutant alien vole droppings!" He reached for another piece of broken stone.

Julian charged as Mondrig raised the stone over his head.

Mondrig threw himself forward.

Julian managed to grip the other man's wrist, stopping his blow. Their grips locked above their heads. For several long seconds the two braced against each other, almost face to face, matching glares at each other.

Then Bashir pushed, taking a step, pouring all his genetically enhanced strength into his bitter need to beat down the leering contempt in the other man's eyes. Beyond conscious control, he had to somehow make Mondrig feel the pain he felt, take away what the man had taken from him.

Mondrig stepped back, alarm and anger mingling in his gaze. He let go of the stone and tried to jerk free of Bashir's grasp. He lashed out with his foot, trying to kick the human's legs out from under him, or at least force him off-balance.

Bashir reacted by letting go of one wrist, shifting his weight and stance.

Mondrig grabbed for his face, trying to gouge human eyes, snarling.

Julian blocked, then snapped the heel of his hand at the Cardassian's face, catching his chin, deliberately ramming the man's lower lip into his own teeth with all his strength. He heard something crack--

Mondrig fell back against the gate, shock in his features, his body going limp.

His enemy's sudden sag caused Bashir to stumble. He had to catch himself with one hand against the heavy gate as he watched Mondrig drop to the alley's stone floor, a puppet with strings cut. The man stared up at him for an eternal moment more, head to one side at the wrong angle, bloodied mouth moving with words he had no breath to speak. Then life faded from the close-set eyes.

Leaving death.

The fury slowly drained out of Bashir as he stared at the dead body, the crooked neck and blood-flecked mouth. Julian looked down at his hands. They were blood-stained and bruised from the struggle.

He had killed. With his bare hands. He had welcomed rage and let it overwhelm him.

Footsteps crunched beside him.

He turned, suddenly numb and exhausted, not sure what to expect.

Director Rekel walked past him, pausing to study Mondrig's corpse laying at the base of the gate. When she turned back to him, Julian saw approval and respect in her eyes.

"I saw you follow him. I don't think anyone else was paying attention or will remember." She glanced down impersonally. "Well done. I'll tend to this carrion. You will want to be somewhere else."

He watched her, mute.

Rekel walked to the end of the alley and glanced both ways as if scouting. Looking back, she beckoned Julian to start moving.

Dazed and too drained to argue, he followed her. At the entrance to the alley, she pointed the opposite way. With all the willpower of a zombie, he started walking.