Chapter 1

Memories...like the corners of my mind....

The lyrics echoed in Lt. Commander Endar Alden’s mind as Lt. Nog stepped off the turbolift onto the Promenade, taking with him the moral to a story that was vivid for a second, and then exited as quickly as it had arrived.

There was a certain eeriness to it all, Endar remembered. He was very prone to random “overflowings of the mouth,” but this was the first time he’d actually started babbling without realizing it, and didn’t stop until it was all over. And part of him didn’t want to stop. Hearing a part of himself coming from his lips for the first time was enlightening and felt tremendous.

Now if he could just remember the story.

Perhaps I’ll ask Nog if he can recall it later.

On second thought, that wasn’t such a good idea. He and Counselor Dax were trying hard not to mention his “problems” to other crewmembers. It was easier for Dax, she could claim patient confidentiality. Alden didn’t have any technicalities to get behind. He wished he did. But he certainly had enough grief in his life without spreading around that he was psychologically sick.

Then more grief joined him on the turbolift. In the form of Colonel Kira.

The colonel stopped and made eye contact for a moment. The two just stood silently. They hadn’t really spoken since the blow up in her office a few days prior. Actually, Endar, the blow-up was on Upper Pylon 2. He giggled to himself.

In all seriousness, he knew Dax was trying to help him keep his job, but Alden felt she didn’t understand how taxing it was. He did feel that the executive officer should have a good working relationship with his superior. He didn’t have that. Kira was unreasonable and lacked communication skills, as far as he was concerned. But there was nothing wrong with an air of civility.

Alden nodded in Kira’s direction, his lips curling into a light smile. “Good morning, Colonel,” he said formally.

Kira returned a stiff nod and stood next to him. Nothing further.

See, why should I be nice to someone like that? Alden fumed.

And then the inner-Dax popped up. Because she’s the key to keeping your position in Starfleet?

Oh yeah. Right.

"Ops," Kira said. The turbolift gave a sudden jolt, and then slowly gained speed for the silent ride to the station’s nerve center.

Alden watched the turbolift lights, the ascending patterns indicating that they were moving. Then the car jumped slightly, and Endar grabbed the handlebar out of reaction. “Damn Cardassian...turbolifts,” he mumbled. The one thing he’d always liked about Federation starships were their spacious, sleek, well-lit turbolifts that always seemed to work well. These Cardassian hulks were too dark and cramped for Alden’s taste.

Suddenly the car jolted again, this time causing the lights to flicker. Alden looked around as the car slowed to a stop. Great.

Kira looked up for several moments, why Alden couldn’t fathom. Then the lights went out completely, and the two stood in darkness. Alden heard a sigh escape Kira’s lips. “Kira to Ops.”

“Ops here,” replied a barely-audible male voice.

“Turbolift 2 just stalled, I’m inside with Commander Alden,” she explained.

"We'll get right on it, Colonel, I'll get --”

The transmission cut out mid-sentence, and Alden knew for certain there was more going on than a broken turbolift.

Endar heard Kira hit her combadge again, the little piece making a disagreeable chirping noise that echoed in the car. It was followed by a deep inhale and a muttered, “Now what?”

Endar groaned inwardly. He felt his own breathing and pulse grow erratic, and hit his badge. “Alden to Ops.” Silence. “Alden to Dax,” he said, his breathing ragged.

“Save your breath, Commander,” Kira returned.

Alden flicked his head towards the sound of Kira’s voice. She seemed much calmer. She wasn’t nearly as frantic as he must have just seemed. He looked away. “I guess we're dead.”

"Well, at least they know where we are." A sigh. "I wish they didn't run the power conduits alongside these things. It's too dangerous to try and climb out in the dark."

“So we wait now....” Endar murmured. He realized his hands were still tightly coiled around the handrail. He let go and smoothed out his uniform.

"I don't think we have much choice,” she said curtly. Then he heard another frustrated sigh, and the sound of Kira’s shoes changing position against the deck.

Alden looked around and lightly tapped the wall with his fist. It's happened. This broken down metal sculpture reject is finally coming apart at the seams.... More irony for him. He was a broken down reject too.

"How long?" he asked. Funny. He had to be trapped in a turbolift to talk to Kira.

"It'll depend how long it takes them to find the problem and fix it. Hopefully our engineers and technicians aren't stuck in turbolifts too," she said.

Alden’s eyes narrowed at her rather condescending tone. Of course when he tells Dax in sessions about this she’ll tell him that Kira was probably much more interested in the problem. She'll say he should take any thing he deemed possibly hostile with a grain of salt.

But it wasn’t like he didn’t have the right to ask. He didn’t like being in the dark like this. And suppose the problem wasn’t fixable? Great, I could die in a big, dark...tube.

"Well,” Endar started sarcastically, “This is just going swimmingly." He let out another sigh and slid to the ground, curling into a ball.

My god, it’s dark. And quiet. He searched about for something to calm him. He even tried to hum a bit, but the sound of his pulse started to drown out the music.

Wait a minute....

He looked toward the ceiling, and toward the door.

Tap, tap, tap.

Footsteps. In the turbolift shaft? He leaned closer, listening intently.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Do you hear that?” he asked.

Somewhere in the dark came Kira’s voice. “What?”

Tap, tap, tap.

“Footsteps. I hear...footsteps.”

"Footsteps?” Kira was incredulous. “Where's it coming from?"

"That’s it. It doesn't sound like it's coming from anywhere...I...."

Tap, tap, tap.

"Oh,” said Kira softly. Or did she just sound far away? “Must've been some station noises....”

* * * *

"Paldar." Bashir reached out and touched the worn stone, very carefully, as if afraid of defiling it somehow. Cardassian letters etched their way across two chest-high granite stumps that must have curved up into a lovely archway when they were whole.

Lieutenant Storie peered over his shoulder and squinted at the place Bashir touched. "What does it mean?" she asked.

The doctor traced one of the letters, then shrugged and stepped away. "Just 'Paldar,' to my knowledge. It's the name of the sector."

"So…." Lausten peered through the ruined gateway. The place was no less gray and broken than the rest of the city - the only difference was that this sector seemed deserted. "If this is Paldar Sector, then we're going in the right direction." He gave Bashir a look. "Right?"

"Oh, we are." Bashir trusted his memory enough to know they weren't lost. His emotional side was harder to convince. Every turn had seemed to be the same series of collapsed buildings, blocked roadways, small shelters thrown together in the middle of the debris. Here, the structures looked like well-to-do houses - or at least, they had once looked that way - and the piles were smaller and further apart. The wind was stronger here, too. Billows of dust whirled up from the dry road, making Lausten and Storie shield their mouths and noses with one hand. Bashir could see what Garak had meant about the dust. Despite his best efforts, the fine powder seemed to be coating his throat.

Commander Blake grimaced, leaned slightly to one side, and spat. "Remind me again why we didn't look for our allies near the center of the capitol? Seeing as how that's where there are still buildings standing ...." He shrugged, spat again.

"Because I have a friend here," Bashir replied, keeping his voice neutral. "That didn't seem to be the case back there." He shifted the strap of his kit more securely onto his shoulder and stepped through the archway. "Let's go."

The street was very quiet, the silence broken only by the crunch of the gravel under their boots and the wind murmuring through the ruined houses. Bashir tried to keep his mind focused, concentrating on the inner map he'd created to keep himself oriented in this strange place. In his mind's eye, he saw what he knew about Paldar Sector -- and he remembered a surprising amount -- laid out in a neat grid of roads. For a brief moment, he pictured their progress along the wide main road leading from the archway as a little blip moving along that grid. Like a ship on a sensor reading -- a tiny Starfleet insignia blinking across the screen.

Overlaid on their surroundings, the grid was nearly lost in the confusion and the little blip seemed almost negligible.

A clatter and a murmur of voices caught his attention. Off to their right, several Cardassian adults - the first people they'd seen in this place -- were hefting a length of siding out of a pile that had once been a house. That the panel was still intact said enough about its quality. It would join several others of its kind in a makeshift building that had obviously started out as little more than a shack, but was now showing signs of workmanship. More than likely, it would be this family's permanent home.

As the Starfleet officers walked past, heading toward an intersection in the road, the Cardassians slowly turned their heads to watch them, then wordlessly went back to their work.

Bashir felt slightly dizzy. The image of a blip on a computer screen was giving way to one of ghosts wandering through a graveyard.

"Ugh...." Storie grimaced, then started coughing, lifting a hand to her mouth. "I can't believe this was a city once. Where do we even begin?"

Lausten gave the Cardassians behind them a nervous glance over his shoulder. "You sure you know where you're going, Doctor?"

"I...." A sudden gust of wind drowned out his voice, and sand blew up from the road. The four officers hunched their shoulders against the stinging spray. When Bashir was able to open his eyes again, he saw the last remnants of the whirlwind dwindling across the intersection, tracing circular patterns in the dust of the road before fading out completely. The piles of brick and metal that had been reduced to uneven silhouettes by the gust drew back into slightly clearer focus as the heaviest dirt settled again.

"Dust storms," Lausten muttered, pulling out his tricorder. "That problem could crop up if the weather gets any worse." He gave Bashir a quick glance as he began scanning. "I'm doing a soil analysis. This shouldn't take too long."

Bashir didn't answer. Despite all his mental abilities, he was beginning to feel lost. The dim air had obscured the archway from which they'd come. The Cardassian family was suddenly nowhere to be found. From where he stood, the road branched off in three different directions -- and his precise mind was drawing a blank.

He turned his back on Blake and the rest, walked slightly away to lean his hand against a fragment of wall that still remained upright. Stop being irrational, he told himself sternly. Think, Julian. You know the answer. Which way...?

Then he heard it -- the first pure sound he'd heard in what felt like days. Voices. Someone yelling. Several someones, in fact. "Storie," he called softly, moving toward the voices. He heard her follow a few meters back, careful not to let them get separated.

Children…? Almost impossible to imagine in a place like this, but as it drew nearer the sound was unmistakable. Young voices were raised in eager shouts that held no hint of danger; it sounded like they were playing. Bashir stopped, listening to their laughter ring off the crumbling stone walls and trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. The sound echoed and re-echoed until it was simply filling the air.

Then, abruptly, they appeared -- about seven of them, ranging from 6 to 12 years old, running as fast as their legs could carry them. Caught up in their game, they ran right by Bashir and didn't even notice him. They flitted around the piles of stone in a crazy, impulsive game of tag, making the rules up as they went. One of the older girls was apparently "it," and she purposely allowed the younger children to escape her, enjoying the chase. It was impossible to look at them and not join in their laughter.

Bashir was so caught up in watching them, he wasn't aware of running footsteps approaching until a small girl had darted around a corner and barreled right into his legs.

"Whoa! Sorry!" The girl tottered back, and Bashir reached out instinctively to steady her. She grabbed his sleeve to regain her balance. And then she noticed his distinctly non-Cardassian hand holding her arm, and stared up at his face in surprise. Behind her, the younger boy that had been hot on her heels skidded to a stop, mouth agape as he saw Bashir. And just that quickly, every child was silent, motionless, staring at this alien in their midst.

The girl -- she looked about 9 -- broke the silence before he could think of anything to say. "You're a human."

"That's right." Bashir released her and took a small step back, hoping to convey that he meant no harm. But there was no fear in her eyes, just frank curiosity.

The boy that had been chasing her was now peering out at Bashir from behind the girl's arm, and he wrinkled his ridged brow in confusion. "And you're Starfleet. Who are you?"

Julian's apprehension was beginning to fade. Smiling, he crouched down until he was at eye level with the boy. "My name's Dr. Bashir. I'm a friend."

"Are there others with you?" Another voice, from a taller boy with intense green eyes. He turned to see Storie standing awkwardly nearby, with Blake and Lausten visible behind her. "Why is Starfleet here?"

"He's a healer," the girl replied quickly. "Aren't you?"

"Yes." Reflexively, Bashir touched the strap of his medkit. "I'm here to help - Starfleet is only here to help. I promise."

Her face brightened with a strange light at this. Around them, the other children were stirring into motion, whispering excitedly. "But why did you come?"

Such a simple question. Bashir hesitated, trying to find a way to answer without repeating token phrases. But it didn't seem that there would be time to say much more. The others were running off, as swiftly as they had in their game moments ago, but now with serious faces. The younger boy behind her was tugging on her arm. "Come on. Come on, let's go!"

The girl frowned as the boy pulled her away, turning toward Bashir as if wanting to ask him something else. Then she seemed to change her mind, and raised a thin arm to point off to Bashir's left. "The tailor's grounds," she said quickly, reading Julian's mind. "That way. You'll find someone to talk to there." With a last glance, she darted after the younger boy and was gone.

"Doc!" Lausten's voice and jogging footsteps pulled Bashir back into reality. "The scan's completed. Which way from here?"

Bashir turned to face him. The children had vanished without a trace; not even his keen hearing could pick up their voices anymore. "That way," he said, squinting in the direction the girl had pointed. Sure enough, he thought he could make out a narrow column through the hazy air, about as wide and tall as he was.

Blake followed his gesture with his gaze, made a disinterested noise. "So. We just stroll in and say hello, Doctor?" His hand flicked toward the phaser at his belt as he spoke, very slightly.

You certainly won't, Bashir thought. Aloud, he said "More or less, sir. If he's not here, we can double back toward the Tarlak sector. There are a few other places we can look."

Storie frowned, glancing nervously around her. Bashir could sympathize; all of this was rather eerie. "You're sure we're welcome in this place?"

Bashir climbed to his feet, remembering Garak's words. I hope that someday you'll have the opportunity to see it. Nothing would please me more. You're always welcome, Doctor. "Yes," he said, assuring himself as well as her. Taking another breath of chalky air, he led them in the direction of the memorial.

* * * *

Nog flew up the various access ladders to Ops as fast as he could. With the turbolifts out of order, there wasn’t any other way to go. But it seemed like the turbolifts weren’t the only things down. Judging from the loss of lights and the inability to contact anyone with commbadges, or reach the computer, Nog could safely assume the entire station was crashing.

He could hear the bustle of the crew as he reached Ops. Palm lights flashed about, trying to light the area for people trying to get auxiliary and emergency systems online. In the din he could make out some: Pryen Maki, Korak, Pedorina, Bilecki, Korak, Ensign Kuhlman, and Lt. Kaoron, among other officers from the science and command crews he didn’t know yet. He hoped he would have the time afterward to meet them all. No sign of Colonel Kira or Commander Alden. Nog emerged from the side door and made his presence known. “Damage report, please.”

The bustle stopped, and everyone stared at him. Nog was taken back at first, but then looked down at the Ferengi civilian outfit and understood. If they didn’t like him in a Starfleet uniform, how would they feel about him in his traditional Ferengi garb?

As always, Kaoron was the first to speak. “ We aren’t sure, Lieutenant,” he started. “Main power is basically gone, we’re working on getting back-up systems online to figure out the extent of the damage. But with main power gone --”

“We can be sure most of the station systems are out,” Nog interrupted.

Kaoron nodded curtly. “One thing more. Turbolift two went off-line minutes before the system crashed. We know this because Colonel Kira and Commander Alden are trapped inside. They contacted us just before communications went out. Jensen and Pryen were in turbolift three, which had some sort of accident before we lost comm with them.”

“Well we can’t do anything until we get the back-up systems online,” Nog said. “Do we at least know if the reactor core is still up?”

“I can’t tell you until the computers come back online,” Kaoron replied. “It’s like flying blind, Lieutenant.”

Nog sighed and looked around. The other crewmembers were still squarely focused on him. He scowled, wondering if they could even clearly see his facial expression in the dark. “What are you all standing around for? We need to get the back-up systems back up!”

For a moment they all continued to stare at him, cold, almost emotionless. Korak was the first to say something. “With all due respect...Lieutenant,” he began, “I think I speak for all of us when I say you are not qualified to be leading us right now.”

Nog groped around the panels to Korak, and stood before him.

“What experience do you have with this situation, sir? We all know you were the reason Kaoron and Pryen got hurt. Your inexperience. If you can’t handle something that’s well within your control, how can you even begin to handle this situation?”

Nog looked around at the others. They stood still. But he could see them nodding. He could see them agreeing. Against him. Against his abilities. They wouldn’t give him the confidence he needed.

But then Kaoron came up behind him. “What will you do, Lieutenant?”

Nog thought for a moment, then inhaled. “No leader is a good leader unless he can draw from the strength and experience of his crew. You aren’t drones under my command. We should all bring something to our team. And when we achieve something, we achieve it as a team. I don’t expect you to think I’m the most capable person, or even the best for the job. All I ask...all I’ve ever wanted, was for you all to grow to see that I can do what I was assigned to do.

“Maybe I’m not the most experienced engineer in this room. But I am the leader, the senior engineering officer, for the time being. And as the senior engineering officer, I ask that you all help me. I can’t do this alone. We all need to work together to help save the station. The sooner we get the back-up systems online, the sooner we can save our loved ones and evacuate them off the station, the sooner we can fix our home. If you don’t want to do that, then by all means, don’t follow me. But this is no time to vote me out. Let’s do what we need to do, people. Let’s work the problem. We can play our...political games afterward.”

Nog paused, waiting for some sort of dissention, or maybe some agreement. Receiving neither, he continued: “If you don’t wish to be part of the team, you can leave. I’ll wait until everyone who doesn’t want to be here has the chance to go.”

Nog waited several long minutes. No one moved. Not even Korak, the voice of the dissenters. Not Pryen Maki, whose husband disliked Nog terribly. Nog could dimly make out people about Ops, heads bowed, seeming defiant or ashamed, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t care. It worked. People were staying. After a while, Nog spoke again. “Let’s get the toolboxes open, I want 3-person shifts in the pit trying to get the back-up power on, I want everyone else in every outlet, every circuit board, and every circuit box trying to get this system up. Like I said, the sooner we get the power back, the sooner we can fix the problem and get our families off the station.” He paused for emphasis, and everyone looked up. “Let’s move, people,” he commanded, and everyone scattered. The bustle returned, and Nog grabbed a coupler and began work in the engineering section.

Kaoron came behind him. “Good work.”

Nog didn’t even look up from the CPG circuitry. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Tell that to the people working for you.” Kaoron left, and Nog went back to work.

* * * *

"Stay calm, everyone! Please do not panic." Constable Emyn paused, then scowled. Her voice sounded terse and stressful, and it wasn't helping her case much. She cleared her throat and tried again in a softer voice, addressing the noisy crowd huddled around the open doors of the security office. "It'll be all right. Just stay calm."

"What's happening?" came a shout. "Is it the Dominion?"

Emyn rolled her eyes, fumbling at a panel on the wall containing emergency palm beacons, lanterns, and batteries. This person wasn't helping her case either. "I don't know what's happening," she shouted back. "But I doubt it's that serious. Stay still, please, everyone." Reaching behind her, she found the shoulder of one of the two deputies that had been in Security with her. "Help me get these lights distributed, both of you," she ordered. "You, Main Floor South. You, Platform West, especially the Replimat. Make sure the first aid stations are well-lit."

It took a moment to fill her arms with supplies, and it took even longer to gently push through the pedestrians that had flocked to her door for help when the power had gone. The only lights she could see were the stars from the high viewports and the independently-powered backup lights of the Infirmary, far down the curve of Main Floor North. Finally reaching a small open space on the edge of the Promenade, she laid down her bundle, grabbed one of the lanterns, and locked it onto the flat surface of the bulkhead. She pressed the switch, and a thin but sufficient light sprang out from beneath her fingers, creating a half-sphere of visibility for about twenty-five meters in either direction. The crowd sighed audibly in relief.

Emyn turned, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. For good measure, she tried her comm badge again. "Emyn to Ops. Ops, please respond. Stay still, everyone!"

There was no response from Ops, but a begrudging one from the crowd. She scanned the people critically. Mostly civilians, a few monks from the Bajoran temple, random Starfleet officers in red and blue. But... yes, there were a growing number of security officers in gold, and in the royal blue of Bajoran Security, and they were helping to calm the bystanders. As the light came on, several of the higher-ranking officers began to make their way toward her to receive orders. Emyn noted that they acted with carefully trained efficiency.

Constable Odo, I owe you one.

"Any news?" she addressed one of the Bajorans closest to her, handing her a palm beacon.

"No, sir," the young dark-skinned woman replied. "No one seems to know what's going on, and we can't reach Ops, not even from the comm units."

Emyn scowled. Then she glanced down the Promenade again. A more hurried commotion drifted over from the direction of the Infirmary. "I'm headed down there. The crowd will be worse near Quark's. And the Infirmary has stand-alone generators, maybe their computers still work. You can handle things here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Keep it up." Emyn faced the rest of them. "Security personnel. I need five of you to come with me. You three... you... you. And you, take lanterns to Platform East; the shops there haven't opened yet, there probably won't be many people, so if things are calm head back in this direction. The rest of you stay here, keep things quiet."

Emyn and her team made their way swiftly down the Promenade, through the ever thickening crowd. Every twenty meters, she sent one of her officers to alternate sides of the wide concourse, lighting emergency lanterns. More lights were taken into the gift shop, the credit exchange, the candlelit temple. Emyn was sure that the turbolift shafts would be unlit, but there was nothing she could do about that right now. Whoever was stuck in there would just have to wait.

Then they came within clear view of the Infirmary, and Emyn's eyes widened. "Damn it."

One of the large overhead lighting fixtures a few meters down the Promenade had blown out in the energy surge, and its burned, tangled mass had fallen to the crowded floor below.

Emyn slapped her last lantern onto a pillar and broke into a run, as much as she could through the confusion. Through the dust and smoke of the collapse, she could see medical staff hurrying to help the injured, bystanders huddled away from the wreck, other people still trapped beneath the heavy fixture, struggling to free themselves or simply lying there. And there were too many wounded to count at a glance. Whirling, she grabbed the arm of one of her officers and made sure she had his complete attention. "Get the rest of Floor North covered. Then get the hell back here."

He nodded, and she shoved him in the right direction before spinning back to search the crowd.

"Constable!"

Emyn looked toward the voice. Her gaze met that of Ensign Stevenson, who looked like he'd just arrived from the lower decks himself. At his shoulder stood a short Trill woman that Emyn recognized as the station's counselor. She gazed at the scene before them with horror in her eyes.

"You were in the Habitat Ring?" the constable demanded of both of them.

"Yes," Dax replied gravely. "Things are under control there."

"We have people staying in their quarters till the power is back on. No injuries that we could see," Stevenson added.

"All right." Emyn took a deep breath, gathering the pair together with her original five. So much for contacting Ops. "We have to help. Stevenson, get with the medic in charge and organize a lift-and-carry team from the bystanders. Try to get the wreckage out of the way as much as you can, but don't move anyone until the medical staff has cleared them."

Stevenson gave a nod of understanding and moved off to carry out his orders. Emyn swept her gaze over the crew remaining, and directed her question to Counselor Dax. "You know first aid, right?"

The young Trill glanced over her shoulder at the wreck and nodded nervously.

"Good. You head to the infirmary and find out how we can help. I'll find more people and join you as soon as I can. The rest of you are with me." Emyn waited until Dax had reached the Infirmary entrance before urging her group into motion.

Chapter Two

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