Chapter 3

Capt. Aaron Westfall
U.S.S. Nightingale NCC-81622
Captain's log, Stardate 4869.9

After several hours of purging Commander Hart's virus from the ship's computers and two days of getting back on course, we've finally made it to the rendezvous point just outside Cardassian space. The atmosphere on board isn't very friendly after the events of the past few days, but conflict has been avoided up to this point. Let's hope we can keep that up.

The other three ships assigned to the mission thus far -- the Barton, the Powell, and the Hippocrates -- have been awaiting our arrival. I spoke to Captain Ipaan from the Powell. The relief team has tried several times to hail Cardassia Prime, with no success. Dr. Bashir informs me that the computers and communications arrays in the Central Command building were operational at the end of the war. It's been suggested that the computers there were since looted for parts. That still doesn't explain why we can't reach any Cardassian computers or even the portable comm units of the Federation assessment teams on either hemisphere. Interference from the dust in the atmosphere could be a factor; Lieutenant Lausten is working with science officers from the other three ships on that now.

I still don't like this. I don't like this at all.

We'll be heading to four major cities across the globe once we've exchanged information. We've decided to send scout teams to each metropolis to assess the situation and try to locate the Federation teams left there since the end of the war, before we beam everyone down. The Powell and the Hippocrates should be sending initial reports from their side of the globe by 0100 hours tomorrow morning.

It's getting dark in the capitol city, so I'm waiting until daylight returns before we send anyone in there. Dr. Bashir will be taking his scout team to the surface at 0630.

***

The U.S.S. Nightingale hung patiently in orbit above Cardassia City as daylight withdrew and night fell over the eastern hemisphere. The wide viewports on the starboard side of the ship faced straight down to the planet's surface. From here, Dr. Julian Bashir faced Cardassia Prime.

She loomed massive and silent, like a giant wall from his perspective. As high and as low as the viewport would let him see, the planet's surface stretched wide before him. He searched that dark expanse for continents, oceans, city lights, even though he knew the dust in the atmosphere covered everything. At most, all he could do was sense the dizzying impression of Cardassia's immense gravity well pulling at him from below, almost enough to send him and the frail vessel falling, falling endlessly out of the sky as the huge planet appeared to grow more immense under them .…

Bashir shivered a bit and looked away. He hadn't spent much time planetside in recent years. In the middle of space, concepts like up and down didn't go any further than artificial gravity deck plating. Now, getting reacquainted with the idea of how high he was, it wasn't a good idea to look down too much.

So he concentrated on the horizon instead. He could still see the distinct line separating night from day on the planet's surface, the last traces of sunlight retreating toward the horizon cut through the darkness of space like a huge curved blade. In that blade, he saw the swirls of heavy cloud cover and above that, the faint sheen of the upper atmosphere glittering in the sun. Above the dust, at the very edge of the world, the evening sky was blood red. And beyond that -- stars, darkness, infinite night.

He shook his head at that last thought. I'm too dramatic for my own good sometimes.

"Doctor."

Julian started slightly, then he breathed and turned toward Westfall's voice. He almost felt embarrassed to be caught in such a pensive moment. He half-worried that he'd been saying those thoughts out loud. "Captain?"

Westfall gave him one of his friendly smiles. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you."

"It's all right, I was just... thinking." As good an explanation as any, he supposed. "What can I do for you, sir?"

The captain shrugged, handing Bashir a PADD. "Commander Kreiger did some work with our science officer to get our information organized. I thought you might want to take a look. Maps of the capital city, everything in Starfleet's database concerning Cardassian political and sociological culture, things of that sort. There are also a few reports from the Federation teams that remained on Cardassia after the war ended, but I'm not sure how much help they'll be. They seemed to be damaged during transmission, and we obviously haven't received any updated information since we lost contact. I wish we had more to offer you."

"This should be fine, thank you, sir." Bashir accepted the data, hiding a wry smile. No doubt he'd find Starfleet's uncertain sources of information almost humorous, compared with the amazing insight he'd gained by reading Garak's letter. By now, he probably had everything on this PADD and more committed to memory.

Westfall remained silent for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Something else that I wanted your input on. This scout team that we're sending down tomorrow morning. Blake would have been the obvious choice to provide protection for you, before this … situation … came up. Considering everything, I completely understand if you'd rather not have him accompany you to the surface. Lieutenant Storie can --"

"No." The doctor shook his head slightly. "We have Blake's word on the matter. He won't give any trouble."

Westfall's eyebrows shot up. "He gave you his word?"

The idea made Bashir smile grimly. "Not me. Commander Hart. I doubt that Blake has anything more to say to me."

The captain snorted softly. "Well, if that's what you want."

No, of course, Bashir didn't want to have Blake's icy gaze following him wherever he went, but he wouldn't dismiss Blake simply for that. Maybe intuition told him that the security officer's expertise would later prove too valuable to give up, or maybe a more vindictive corner of his mind refused to allow Blake the pleasure of seeing him hide from the anger between them.

He tipped his head in a slight nod. "Yes, sir."

"Very well. We'll keep Blake on the roster for now. But Storie will still be going along. Just in case."

"I understand. Thank you." The knife-edge of day had retreated to a slim thread. Frail tendrils of vapor blew off the top of the clouds on the horizon, curling up and then out as they hit the stratosphere.

"Well," Westfall said, giving the view an idle glance, "that's all I have for you. You will contact us as soon as you've located the Federation teams on the surface?"

"Of course."

"Good. And until you get the computer systems in the capital back online, I expect we'll be interacting with you and your team quite a bit."

Bashir nodded again. "Most likely."

"All right, then." But the captain hesitated at the window, regarding Bashir carefully. After a moment he held out his hand. "Good luck."

The gesture wasn't unexpected, but it was touching, nonetheless. Bashir smiled, shook his hand firmly. "Thank you for everything, sir."

"Just glad I could help. See you in the morning." The captain took a departing glance out the viewport, then left as quietly as he'd come.

Day was gone entirely by the time Bashir returned his own gaze to Cardassia. All that was left was a hazy sparkle above the planet's black curve, the atmosphere reflecting the last traces of the sunlight. He waited until that gray light had faded out before finally forcing himself to walk away.

***

The U.S.S Bradbury arrived at the station in the early evening. There was nothing noteworthy or spectacular about the occurrence, thankfully. Kira gave the captain permission to dock and promptly disregarded the vessel's existence for the time being. She might have forgotten about it completely if Kuhlman had not entered her office twenty minutes later.

"Colonel?"

Prophets, he looked like he thought she would leap for his throat at the first wrong move. Kira smiled ruefully. "Yes, Ensign."

"There's a Dr. Monrow to see you, sir."

Kira sighed a little, then squared her shoulders and tugged at the collar of her uniform. "Send him in."

"Um... her. Sir."

The colonel shook her head wryly. "All right. Send her in."

The young officer turned to a person standing out of view near the doorway and ushered her in, and a lieutenant in standard medical uniform stepped forward. She walked into the room and came to attention. "Colonel Kira."

Kira made herself pay attention to the woman's features, matching the name to the appearance. Dr. Monrow: about Kira's age, give or take a few years. Medium build, pale skin, rather dark hair pinned up in. At first glance, she seemed courteous and professional enough. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"

"Reporting for duty, sir," Monrow replied easily, handing over the PADD containing her orders.

"Duty?" Kira asked, startled. She skimmed through the PADD and frowned as she realized yet another loose end was demanding her attention. "I forgot about this...."

The doctor tilted her head to one side. "Is something wrong, Colonel?"

"No, no, not at all," Kira said, using all the skill she could muster to welcome a new member to her staff the way Sisko might have done. She got up from her seat and extended a hand in human fashion. "It's good to have you aboard, Doctor. I hope you'll find your stay with us agreeable."

Monrow returned the handshake firmly, her dark blue eyes smiling. "I'm only too glad to be here, sir. I look forward to working with you."

All in all, the exchange was going in textbook Starfleet fashion. For once, Kira appreciated how unexciting and predictable it was. "Have your quarters been seen to yet? I believe we had some reserved for you."

"Yes, Colonel, everything went smoothly. I'll be moving my things in shortly."

"Good," Kira said. "I'll find someone to help you get settled in and give you a tour of our facilities later on, if you'd like."

As she spoke, reaching for her comm badge, the lights overhead flickered threateningly. Kira speared a glare upward. The lights blinked obstinately once or twice, then finally submitted to her warning look and steadied.

When she regained eye contact with Monrow, both of them wore slight smiles of patient amusement. "Welcome aboard."

Chapter Four

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