A Deep Space Nine/Voyager Story by Edward H. Bart IV

I am a fool.         In the silence between engagements, in the quiet minutes before my crew girds themselves for yet another battle, I remind myself that I am a fool.         Benjamin Maxwell said that. "You're a fool. History will call you a fool."         I sighed and replied back to him, "Fine. I am content to let history judge me a fool." But... Captain Maxwell was right. I knew he was right, then. I... I can't help but wonder time and time again, whether things would have turned out differently had I not taken his advice. Instead of holding onto a fragile, deceptive peace, should I not have instead let slip the dogs of war?         Shakespeare. I wonder if the Cardassians appreciate Shakespeare as much as we do. No matter. The hour draws near. And another quote comes to mind. 'Once more unto the breach, my dear friends.' Henry the Fourth. He won his war. It remains to be seen if we shall win ours. End log entry.         -- From the recovered log entries of Federation Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, Commander of the Federation Starship Enterprise. SUPPLEMENTARY INFORMATION         The Federation was a governing body with the hopes of uniting many different races, creating a peaceful galaxy. Then with the start of the Second Federation-Cardassian War, everything crumbled. Various factions squabbled with each other, breaking away from the Federation. The powerful Cardassian Empire pushed further and further into Federation space. Now, the Federation was at the brink of collapse. The Cardassians have all but won. But, there were still a few pockets of resistance. This is one story of resistance.         It began at Station Nine. A Cardassian orbital mining station, seized by the joint effort of the Bajoran Underground and a small taskforce led by Captain Benjamin Sisko, Terok Nor was rechristened Station Nine. It remained free, in spite of several Cardassian offensives that sought to recapture it, and almost weekly raids by spiteful Cardassian Guls. STAGING AREA         Captain Sisko stood, looking at the viewscreen. The blue-green image of the planet Bajor hung in the oval viewscreen. A voice behind him asked, "What is it, Captain?"         Sisko turned around to look at the speaker. The voice came from a tall man, equal to Sisko in height and stature. His crimson uniform held the rank insignias of an admiral. He sported a beard with streaks of grey. A faded scar ran up the right side of his face, curving around his eye.         "Nothing, Admiral Riker. Just looking at Bajor. It's somewhat tranquilizing."         Riker smiled faintly and nodded. "I agree. By the way, you don't need to call me Admiral. Just call me Riker. I don't like the title. It's just a field promotion. I only got it because Admiral Picard died in the battle in the Badlands."         "Yes, sir... uh, Riker." Sisko stepped up to face Riker, extending his hand. "Welcome aboard Station Nine."         "Nice to be here," Riker smiled. He cocked his head. "May I use your office? I have a few things I need to take care of."         "Of course. It's right up there." Sisko gestured towards the office that branched off from the Operations Center.         Sisko turned to look at Jadzia Dax. "You have command. I'm going to take my walk."         "Allright, Benjamin," Dax smiled. She tossed her brown hair back and swiveled in her seat at the Science station as Sisko stepped up to the turbolift.         Moments later, Sisko strode through the Circle, the center of the station that housed the remaining shops and eating areas. As he passed by the New Infirmary, the station's chief medical officer, Dr. Bashir, limped up alongside him.         "Still haven't repaired your bionic leg yet?" Sisko asked, referring to the silver prosthetic attached to Julian Bashir's leg at the stump of his knee.          In the Second Battle for Station Nine, the east section of the Infirmary had collapsed, and Dr. Bashir had just dove out from underneath the falling debris, but not far enough to avoid trapping his left leg. Left with no options, Dr. Bashir had amputated his leg to free himself and crawled out from the Infirmary before the whole place collapsed.         In peacetime, Dr. Bashir could have cloned a replacement for his leg. However, this was not peacetime. So he had to make do with a bionic replacement which normally worked fine. Until now.         "I've been after Commander O'Brien to look at it, but he keeps telling me 'Later, later, later.' I swear, if I hear that again, I'm going to take my leg off and beat him about the head with it."         Sisko chuckled. "Well you know he's a busy man. He's the one holding the station together, long after everyone had given up on it."         Bashir shrugged and nodded.         "Ah here's the lift. I'm going back up to OPS. Look, if we find anything else, or if we need your expertise, I will personally call on you. Is there anything else?"         "No sir. Thanks for the time."         "No problem at all, Doctor. If I find anything that requires your expertise, I'll contact you."         "Allright, sir."         The turbolift moved out of sight, then as Dr. Bashir turned to hobble back, he heard Sisko shout "By the way, I'll talk to O'Brien for you!"         The turbolift slowed to a stop in OPS. Sisko stepped out and noticed a figure hunched over near an open circuitry panel. "O'Brien?" Sisko ventured.         "Yeah, sir?" the figure answered back. Sisko walked over to O'Brien, and inspected what he was doing. As usual, he hadn't the faintest idea what exactly O'Brien was doing but if he was doing it, it needed to be done.         "I just talked to Dr. Bashir," Sisko said. "He asked me-"         "Yeah yeah yeah, I know, I know. His leg. But what he doesn't realize is that we aren't exactly getting an steady stream of parts... we're on the border." Miles O'Brien turned around and looked up at Sisko, wiping sweat off his brow and smoothing down his curly brown beard.         Sisko nodded, then asked, "What are you working on?"         O'Brien sighed, "I'm shoring up the defense systems. After the last Cardassian raid, the shields nearly buckled. I'm making sure that won't happen again. We don't need a repeat of the last battle."         Sisko nodded, remembering the disaster when heavy fire tore off a section of one of the upper docking pylons. It still hadn't been replaced yet.         War is hell, Sisko thought. What a trite expression, he chided himself.         O'Brien continued, "It should take only a few hours. I'll be done and then it's off to somewhere else on the station, fixing some damned thing else." He chuckled ruefully.         "How's Molly doing?" Sisko inquired.         "Oh, she's doing fine. She's enjoying the hoverchair I made for her. I think she's stopped being upset about the loss of her walking ability. But I still think she needs more time to heal emotionally, after Keiko's death." O'Brien sighed. "For that matter, I still hurt too."         Colonel Kira Nerys walked onto OPS. "Captain?"         "Yes, Colonel?" Sisko turned. "How was your visit to the Underground Bajoran Senate?"         "Frustrating as usual. They still refuse to provide iron ore to rebuild the docking pylon."         Sisko sighed, and rubbed his smooth head. "What good is it to have an ore processing center right here on the station, if we're not going to use it?" He straightened up, and tugged on his tunic. "Well, thank you for your efforts, Colonel. I appreciate it."         Colonel Kira smiled softly, "It's allright. I'm not about to give up. I still have a few underground contacts that might be able to get results. I'll keep you updated."         "Thank you. I appreciate that. Somehow I knew you wouldn't stop at the senate. I'm going to inform the admiral."         Colonel Kira nodded, and turned away to walk onto the lift. Sisko trudged up the steps leading to his office. He saw Admiral Riker sitting on the edge of his desk, tossing up a baseball back and forth in his hands. Riker looked up when he heard Sisko's bootsteps. He smiled, making his scar twist around his cheek.         Riker tossed the ball to Sisko. Sisko smoothly snatched the ball out of the air, then walked over behind his desk, and sat down, gently setting down the ball on its display stand.         "So, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?" Sisko asked.         Riker continued to smile. "Well, you've been waiting for iron ore, I hear?"         "You heard right."         "Well, that may not be a problem now. A little bird told me a ship may be coming in soon, with a supply."         "Really? How much of a supply? I need to know to set up a new processing crew. And when might this ship be coming in?"         "I'm sorry, Captain. This little bird also told me his information was classified."         "Oh, I see. Well, I suppose I'll just have to make do," Sisko muttered angrily.         Riker sighed, "Captain, you'll understand once it arrives."         "Well I guess I'd better settle in and have a cup of raktajino. Maybe catch up on the daily status reports."         "No. All you need to do is look outside your porthole," Riker indicated with a nod of his head. Sisko stood up from his chair, and turned to look out into space. A star shone a little brighter than the rest. Then he realized it wasn't a star, but a ship dropping out of warp. Still it was far away, so he couldn't make out details.         As it got closer, he saw that it was unlike any ship he ever saw. It was huge, and had a sharp triangular saucer, and a sleek body, which sported four warp nacelles. As it came closer to the station, he could make out the identifying numbers and the name.         "U.S.S Prometheus?" Sisko said aloud.         "Shh!" Riker admonished Sisko. Then he beamed, his eyes twinkling.         Sisko had remembered the rumors he had heard of a top-secret new class of starship that Starfleet was supposedly building. Less of an exploratory ship, this class was supposed to be heavily armed and fast, a true warship. Perhaps those rumors were true. It seemed he had living proof flying towards the station at impulse speed.         Sisko walked out of his office into the center of OPS. Dax and Kira were already there, staring at the viewscreen which showed the Prometheus on its way to Station Nine. Riker followed Sisko, and stood near the lift, watching the screen. Several beeps on the main OPS console made Kira look down. After ascertaining the information from the console, she looked up to Sisko.         "Sir, there's reports all over the station of a strange ship approaching the station. It seems just about everyone is worried or excited about it."         O'Brien muttered, "Gee, I hope everyone isn't standing on one side of the Circle to see it, or the station will start tilting."         The OPS console beeped twice. Kira indicated that it was the Prometheus, hailing the station. Sisko commanded, "On screen."         Instead of a person's face, the viewscreen became awash with static. The audio still came through clear; "This is the captain of U.S.S. Voyager." Abruptly the transmission ended, and the viewscreen reverted back to the previous view of the starship nearing the station.         The U.S.S. Prometheus exploded in a silent fury. The saucer broke off the body, and the warp nacelles ignited with plasma; creating a horrific fireworks display. The crew in OPS gasped collectively, and held still for a moment. Then Sisko yelled, "No! What the hell happened?"         "I don't know, Benjamin!" Dax shouted back. She hurriedly ran through scans, but came up empty-handed. "It seems the Prometheus was destroyed by some kind of malfunction..." she ventured. "After all it was only an experimental prototype."         Admiral Riker stepped down to the center of OPS. "Perhaps we should investigate closer. Let's take a Runner out and investigate the debris."         Sisko nodded, "That's a good idea. Dax, you and Dr. Bashir go out and check the debris cloud."         Riker cleared his throat. "Actually, I'd like to go out there first, take a look see for myself. I'd like it if you'd join me, Captain."         Sisko fell silent for a moment. He glanced at Dax questioningly, who only gave him a surreptious shrug. He nodded, looking at Riker. "Um, that sounds fine to me. We'll take some preliminary readings to give to Dax on our return."         "Yes, exactly what I was thinking," Riker nodded.         Moments later, Riker piloted the Runner to the site of the explosion. Sisko manned the sensors, sitting next to Riker. After double checking the sensors, he spoke up. "There's a lot of iron ore in this debris field."         Riker nodded, "Mmhmm." Then he brought the Runner to a stop, at the edge of the cloud.         "Why have we stopped?" Sisko asked.         Riker only said, "Just continue running your scans."         After about five minutes, Sisko reported that there was nothing unusual to find. "It all seems typical of a catastrophic warpcore anti-matter ignition," he said to Riker. That type of explosion usually left little or no debris. So nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except there was so much iron ore, than normally used in a starship's hull.         Suddenly, the comm system beeped. Riker leaned casually over to open the connection. On the small side-console screen appeared a human female. Her hair was cut severely short, in the style of the old Earth North American Military. Her face showed signs of light burns on one side. She smiled upon seeing Riker, but due to her scarring, it looked more like a grimace. Still the smile was evident in her eyes.         "Hello Admiral. Good to see you again."         "Hello Captain Janeway. Good to see you again too," Riker smiled in return. "May I introduce you to Captain Benjamin Sisko, commanding officer of Station Nine? Captain Sisko, this is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the U.S.S. Prometheus."         "But..." Sisko said, puzzledly. "I thought..."         Riker smiled. "A necessary subterfuge. Continue your scans! We need that to cover up our narrow beam communication with the Prometheus. "         "Oh, yes sir," Sisko said, as he ran his hands over the sensor station, setting it to run automatic scans.         "Allright then. That should continue the illusion that we're only scanning empty space, not talking to ghosts." Riker smiled at his own joke.         "But, you mean this isn't an empty debris field? I scanned the area thoroughly."         Riker leaned forward in his chair, starting to speak. Then he paused, thinking for a moment. Then he spoke, "Well I think I'll let Captain Janeway explain it. But note that everything that is said in here is to be considered top secret, at the highest levels." Sisko nodded. "Well then," Riker clapped his hands together, rubbing them as he smiled. He looked back at Janeway on the screen. "The floor's yours, Captain Janeway."         Sisko leaned back to listen to what Janeway had to tell him.         Captain Kathryn Janeway leaned back in her readyroom, reviewing the status reports. She had just finished talking with Admiral Riker and Captain Sisko an hour ago and they left to make preparations for smuggling her onto the station. She sighed, and sipped at her coffee. She paused to look around the room. Through the windows, she could see the debris floating around the ship. It still felt strange watching the debris disappear and reappear in her field of view. She told herself she'd get used to it. She turned around to glance over her display case. Her Academy degree and her Starfleet commission sat on a shelf propped up in frames. Several science degrees along with a holograph painting of Earth were positioned on the wall. A piece of scorched metal rested atop a display stand.         Janeway leaned over to touch the rectangular metal. As she touched it, she recalled its origin. It was a piece of the hull of the late U.S.S Intrepid, Janeway's former ship. The Intrepid was the first Intrepid class starship, built for long range exploration. Captain Janeway was selected out of an elite few to command the ship, based on her broad science background and diplomatic skills.         It was over five years ago, she remembered. After a preliminary six-month shakedown cruise, Starfleet and the Federation approved an extended shakedown cruise, to last a year. In fact, they gave Janeway the freedom of choosing a location to travel to. She picked the Delta Quadrant. And so, she took the Intrepid, boldly going where few had gone before. The cruise had gone fairly well. The crew had gathered much sensor information, and investigated quite a few astronomical phenomena, on their way to the Delta Quadrant. Then war broke out.         The Intrepid had finally arrived at the edge of the Delta Quadrant just when Captain Janeway received a high band, high priority call from Starfleet. She remembered the sadness when she was told to turn around and return to Starfleet HQ. They obeyed orders and set a course back for Earth.         She remembered the long hellish year the Intrepid had, fighting their way back home. No one had expected the Cardassians to be so prepared for war. Their warfleet overwhelmed most races, including the Romulan Empire. Briefly, Janeway recalled the battle where Commander Sela sacrificed her life, ramming her crippled Romulan Warbird into a Cardassian warship, punching a hole in the blockade the Cardassians had set up around Romulan space. Her sacrifice allowed Janeway to take the Intrepid through the gauntlet.         As the Intrepid arrived into the Alpha Centauri system, Janeway and her crew had relaxed. The end was in sight. They were just at the Sol system, close to Earth. Suddenly, a squadron of Cardassian raider ships and a Galor-Class warship appeared out of no where, and struck at the Intrepid. Caught off guard, the Intrepid sustained heavy damage, and heavy casualties, including Janeway's lover and second in command, Chakotay. With the bridge in flames around her, giving her deep burns on her left side, Janeway piloted the ship, trying desperately to hold off the Cardassian attackers. With the Intrepid's speed, she was able to make it to Neptune, where the Starfleet base at Jupiter saw her attackers. She would never forget the relief she felt when she saw the Enterprise-D swoop in to protect the crippled Intrepid. She blacked out soon afterwards, and was revived, to see Admiral Picard and Captain Riker.         "Enough of thinking of the past," Janeway admonished herself. "Focus on the now." She had to prepare a report to give to the officers of Station Nine soon. She picked up her PADD again, and continued to read the status reports. A chime sounded, and then she heard the voice of her first officer, Commander Paris.         "Captain, we're getting a coded signal from Station Nine. I assume it's for you?"         "You'd be right, Mr. Paris. I'll take it in here. Put it through." Janeway responded. She turned to her monitor. Admiral Riker's face replaced the Starfleet logo.         "Captain, we're ready to pick you up. Sisko and Lieutenant Dax will be there shortly in a Runner. Don't worry, Dax can be trusted. Riker out." The screen went black.         Janeway sighed. Well, time to go, she thought to herself.         Captain Janeway now stood in the conference room. She gazed out at the various officers seated at the desk in front of her. Commander O'Brien leaned over to whisper something to Dr. Bashir next to him. Colonel Kira tapped her fingers impatiently on the table top. Captain Sisko stood near Janeway. Admiral Riker leaned forward at the table, from his seat in the back of the room. Lieutenant Dax brushed back her long hair from her shoulder, smiling expectantly. Janeway then looked at the Klingon dressed in full Klingon battle armor. Commander Worf, the security officer of the station sat guardedly, with his arms crossed in front of him. Janeway couldn't tell if that was a scowl on his face or if it was his normal look. Klingons, she thought, go figure.         Janeway recalled what Jadzia Dax had told her about Worf, when she arrived aboard Station Nine. Worf had been a first officer on a Klingon Bird of Prey, that was part of a squadron that came to Station Nine's rescue in what was now being called the First Battle For Station Nine. Station Nine was under heavy attack by the Cardassians; and as luck would have it, a small Klingon scout fleet had been on its way back to Klingon-held territory when they received the distress call sent out by Station Nine. The Klingon Fleet leader Gowron was aboard his flagship Bortas, leading the fleet. Never one to run away from a glorious fight, he ordered his squadron to enter the fray. Together, Station Nine and the small Klingon fleet beat back the larger Cardassian armada.         However, during the battle, the Bortas was badly hit, and Gowron sustained fatal injuries. His final wish was for the Klingons to set aside their stoic isolation and combine forces with the Federation. General Martok, his second in command, became the new leader of the Klingon Empire, and carried out Gowron's wish. Thus cemented the Klingon-Federation War Alliance.         Jadzia had noted that it was during this battle, all of Worf's crew were killed during battle, including his wife, B'Elanna. Worf was the sole survivor of his ship. Ever since, he felt guilty for surviving. So when Martok asked for volunteers to be stationed on Station Nine to replace the Starfleet officers killed in the battle, Worf jumped at the chance. He felt this was a chance to atone for his survivor's guilt. Sisko welcomed Worf, since he had once been a Starfleet officer before the second war broke out, and gave him the Starfleet equivalent of his rank- commander, and the position of Station's security and tactical officer.         Janeway turned back to Sisko, who had just finished introducing her.         "Thank you, Captain Sisko," Janeway said. "Now, as you all are aware by now, my presence is to be considered top secret. And so is the Voyager's presence. We have gone to great lengths to put out the illusion of a fatal flaw in the ship's design, eliminating it's presence from the eyes of our enemies, and of course, their spies."         The officers started asking questions, such as "How'd you do it?" and "Why'd you do it?" Sisko commanded them to be quiet. "Don't worry," Janeway assured them, "all will be revealed in due time."         "First, what. I'm sure most of you have heard of the rumors of a new class of warship that Starfleet has been working on. I have the honor of being the first captain of the new Prometheus class warship U.S.S. Prometheus." Janeway gave a respectful nod to Admiral Riker. He nodded back. She went on, "This ship, as you saw, had four warp nacelles, indicating a double warp core." She pressed a button on the display screen on the wall behind her. An image of the Prometheus appeared on the screen, rotating. "What you have not seen is that it also has a fifth warp nacelle, hidden inside the top section of the saucer section. Why? This ship has a unique and powerful secret. Separation. No, this is not the standard separation of the Galaxy class ship. This ship, the Prometheus can separate into three distinct ships, and can communicate together to attack in one combined multi-vector assault."         The crew murmured excitedly about the possibilities.         "Next, how. As you may or may not know, Starfleet R&D has been working on a new experimental cloaking device. This is different from the standard Romulan cloaking device, with shunts light and other energy waves aside from the ship, making it 'invisible.' This cloaking device, code named Pegasus, goes one step further. Utilizing advanced phase shifting techniques, this cloaking device actually shifts the ship out of phase, making it both invisible and immaterial. So, it was a simple matter to release an antimatter bomb and release debris while phasing out at the same time. The Prometheus still out there, in the debris cloud. "         Surprised comments arose from the crew. O'Brien said, "I had heard rumors they were working on it but I had no idea they were this far along..."         Bashir shrugged. "After Romulus fell, many refugees fled to Federation territory. Starfleet might've recruited a few Romulan scientists."         Janeway nodded. "Well, the next question, 'Why?' is a little more complicated.         "As we all very well know, Starfleet Headquarters is continually on the move. Earth is too much of a prime target to leave Starfleet and Federation Headquarters permanently established there. So Federation HQ and Starfleet HQ split up and went underground, moving from various moons and planets, staying one step ahead of the Cardassian spy network. Three weeks ago, a small Cardassian attack squadron bombed and captured the location of where Starfleet HQ was."         Shocked mutterings came from the table. Riker stepped forward, "The operative word here is 'was.' Fortunately, Starfleet Intelligence was able to get word of the attack squadron, and they were able to evacuate the base at the last minute."         The crew relaxed a little. Janeway continued, "However, since it was so last minute, the evacuation crew was unable to sanitize the area. So some vital documents were left behind. Some of these concerned the development and construction plan of Prometheus class ships. So it was necessary to fool everyone, including our side, in believing that the U.S.S. Prometheus had a fatal design flaw, which caused it to be destroyed. It wasn't too hard to do. The Prometheus does have a few technical issues that haven't been resolved yet. Nothing that would actually lead to our destruction, like today."         Riker spoke up, "Bottom line- the Prometheus was our ace in the hole. It had been discovered. So we had to blow it up to keep it as our ace in the hole."         "That's right, Admiral," Janeway replied. Dax raised her hand to speak. The crew quieted down, to hear her comment.         Dax spoke, "Captain Janeway said 'construction plan of Prometheus class ships' with ships being plural. Does this mean there are more completed or on the way?"         Janeway was about to reply, when Riker interrupted. "That's a good question, Dax. But you might want to keep your questions to yourself, unless you'd like to find yourself charged with treason and espionage, and executed." Everyone sat still, silent. Then Riker smiled broadly and winked at her.         Dax smiled back, "Yes sir."         Riker continued, "Sorry to scare you all, but these are hard and dangerous times. So everything that goes on here will be strictly 'need to know' basis. Is that clear?" The crew nodded.         Janeway cleared her throat. "I suppose that has answered all of your questions. That's all I can tell you for now. Now that the background has been filled in for you, I can come to the point of this meeting. The Prometheus's mission is to make covert forays into Cardassian space. Station Nine will be our staging area. But we will need help to keep this under wraps. That's why we've enlisted your help. Starfleet Intelligence has done extensive background checks on each and everyone of you, to assure that none of you are spies.         "This operation is too large to handle without key personnel on the station. That's where you all come in. Materials, supplies, and even personnel will need to be ferried back and forth between Station Nine and Prometheus. Records will have to be erased or altered."         Riker said, "This mission is of the highest priority and the highest secrecy. The war has paused for the moment. While normal Federation citizens think that the pause is in our favor, Starfleet knows better. This is only the calm before the storm. Intelligence feels that the Cardassians are building up their fleets in this pause, arming themselves for a powerful strike. We need to know more. We need to find out where their staging points are. Where their shipyards are. That's where the Voyager comes in. She can sneak in and out undetected, gathering data and intelligence. And she's powerful enough that if she is discovered, she can fight her way out. Why else wouldn't she, with the captain of the legendary U.S.S. Intrepid on her bridge?" Riker smiled at Janeway. She smiled back sadly. The room fell silent, in respect of the fallen ship and her crew.         "Next item- the Prometheus will hereafter be referred to as the Voyager, so that if the Cardassians do manage to intercept any of our coded messages, they will continue to be unaware that the Prometheus still exists," the admiral leaned against the table.         "Finally," Riker said, "We believe, that if the Prom- ahem, the Voyager is successful in her missions, Cardassian morale will be hurt. So there may be retaliatory strikes. Station Nine is a prominent target. So during all this, you all will need to remain at a high state of readiness."         "Well, as long as there isn't a Third Battle for Station Nine, we'll do just fine," O'Brien quipped.         Riker looked at the Commander sternly. Then he smiled, "Don't worry, if there is a Third Battle for Station Nine, it won't be called the Third Battle. It'll be called the Final Battle for Station Nine. Because if the Cardassians come after the station hard, it'll mean that they're desperate and on the run. If... no. When that happens, we'll have won this war."         The mood of the room brightened a little. O'Brien nodded his agreement to Riker. "So, is everyone clear on what we are asking of you all?" Riker checked. Nods were given all around the table. "Ok. Now, let Operation Phantom begin," Riker declared.                  The next few weeks were spent coordinating Operation Phantom. False data logs were installed on the central computer core of Station Nine. A docking bay was mysteriously closed down indefinitely for repairs, when sensors reported a hazardous radioactive leak. Only Commander O'Brien and Lt. Dax were allowed into that docking bay, and the space around the bay was kept clear of traffic.         Dr. Bashir found an unidentified infestation in one of the storage warehouses, and everything had to be taken out of it. Then using his authority as the Chief Medical Officer of the station, Dr. Bashir shut down and quarantined the warehouse.         Several Runners were sent out to the debris field to gather the iron ore. The ore was towed back to the station, and beamed into the processing center. Most of the station's focus turned to the processing and the rebuilding of the ruined docking pylon. Surprisingly, Commander O'Brien was not put in charge of the rebuilding project. His assistant, Ensign Gonzalez was put in charge instead. When asked for his reasons, O'Brien replied that he had full confidence in Lt. Gonzalez, and that this supervisory project would be a good learning experience for him. Also, O'Brien added that the lieutenant would have him to help out, if necessary.         By the end of the month, the newly rechristened U.S.S. Voyager was only a sad footnote in the ongoing war. =3 MONTHS LATER= FIRST STRIKE                  The cloaked Voyager flew at impulse speed towards Malak Ket, an asteroid. This particular asteroid had an orbital trajectory which took it within deep Cardassian space and out to the outskirts of the Cardassian borders. The Voyager had been shadowing it often, for the past three weeks.         For all intents and purposes the asteroid was fairly uninteresting, save for the fact that it was one of the larger asteroids traveling within Cardassian space. However, spurred by anomalous subspace readings, Captain Janeway and her crew had discovered a base hiding within the asteroid. Upon further investigation, they had discovered that it was in fact a shipbuilding base.         Looking at her report summary, Janeway knew it made sense. The Cardassians could build ships, and by the time the asteroid reached the outskirts of their space, the ships could be launched, seemingly out of nowhere, since the ships were hidden from Starfleet spy satellites. After Starfleet read her report, they immediately proposed plans to capture the base, and push it into Federation space.         Starfleet needed a concrete, decisive victory now. True, for the first few months of Operation Phantom, Voyager had found and cut minor supply lines, disabled spy satellites, and gathered intelligence on Cardassian fleet movements. This would be the first major strike the Voyager had been asked to do. Captain Janeway accepted. Now, here she was, sitting in her readyroom, minutes from decloaking behind the asteroid base.         A chime sounded. Janeway said, "Come on in." In walked Commander Paris, her first officer. He ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair, and walked over to Janeway's desk.         "Captain, we're minutes away from the base. We're ready. The Black OPS team is in transporter room 2, standing by. Don't you think you ought to be on the bridge now?" Paris smiled.         Janeway smirked in return. "Why yes, you seem to be correct. I do believe I shall go onto the bridge now. Thank you, I had almost completely forgotten." She stood up, and followed Paris out onto the bridge.         "Sorry, sir," Paris said. "I didn't-"         "It's allright, Tom," Janeway smiled. "I was only teasing you. I'll be along shortly."         Ensign Musashi sat at the OPS console, tapping his foot nervously. Ensign Zalt'n, a tall female Bolian, sat attentively at the helm, awaiting the move order. Paris stood by the captain's chair, while Janeway took her seat. On the viewscreen, the asteroid loomed closer. Janeway tapped on her armrest, contacting Transporter room 2. "Janeway here. Is your team ready, Major Ironsides?"         "Aye captain. My team's ready for insertion."         "Good. Standby." Janeway turned to her tactical officer, Commander Tuvok. The tall Vulcan stood at his station calmly. "Distance, Mr. Tuvok?"         "Three thousand kilometers, and closing. We are in range, sir."         "Good. Target and lock onto shield generators."         "Targeted and locked."         "Prepare to drop cloak on my mark. Then fire quantum torpedoes, and transport Major Ironsides and his team down at the predetermined location. Then raise shields immediately. Acknowledged?"         "Acknowledged, sir."         "Very well. Three. Two. One. Mark."         The Voyager shimmered into view, hidden behind the asteroid. The base did not detect her, until she moved into place. Bright white quantum torpedoes flew out of the Voyager's torpedo tubes and slammed savagely into the shields, the first two causing enough damage to allow the rest though the shields to explode the generators. A brief flicker of light around the base indicated their shields were down. Almost immediately, the base fired orange disruptor up at the Voyager, along with photon torpedoes. The first counter strike splashed against the powerful shields of Janeway's ship.         "Counter fire, phasers only. Target the construction bays."         "Aye, sir." Fiery red beams of phaser fire tore into the construction bays, slicing though the skeletons of Cardassian ships. Most of them fell apart, except for the ones nearly completed. Those had engine cores which exploded brilliantly, creating more destruction.         Abruptly, the Cardassian counteroffensive ceased. The communications officer, Lieutenant McKay, turned to Janeway. "Sir, I have a signal from the base. Starfleet code."         "Put it on the screen, Mr. McKay," Captain Janeway replied. The viewscreen changed to a static filled view of Major Ironsides. His face was smudged with soot, and his combat uniform was stained with blood, Human and Cardassian. He spoke.         "Captain, Major Ironsides reporting in. Mission accomplished. Central Office captured."         "Congratulations, Major. Casualties?"         "Two dead, and three wounded."         "I see. I'll have them beamed directly into Sickbay and inform Dr. Zimmerman. Did you seize their computers before they locked down?" That was the critical phase of this mission. Standard operating procedure was that in the case of a hostile invasion, the Cardassians would lock down the computer cores that held sensitive information. They would be covered by layers upon layers of encryption, which would take months, even years, to break. Speed and surprise had to be used to catch the Cardassians off guard before they had a chance to initiate lockdowns.         "Aye, sir. Only standard Cardassian encryption codes." Ironsides's face broke into a small grin. Janeway was not sure, because she couldn't remember ever seeing Ironsides smile.         Janeway heaved a sigh of relief. "Allright. Gather your men. We'll beam you off, and send down the demolitions team."         "Aye, sir. Ironsides out."         Soon, the EVA team of demolition setters finished setting antimatter bombs on the back of the asteroid. They were beamed back onto the Voyager. After the ship moved to a safe distance, Janeway gave the order to detonate the bombs. The bombs released antimatter, reacting strongly to matter, sparking explosions. Thanks to Newton's laws of motion, the explosions nudged the asteroid out of it's current trajectory, and sent it on its way into Federation held territory. The Cardassians would not suspect anything, since the base normally was out of communication contact for up to a month.         Once within Federation space, a small picket fleet of Starfleet ships would tow the asteroid to an undisclosed location, and install cloaking devices to hide it from the Cardassians. Then a crack team of Starfleet Intelligence gatherers would hack into the computers and glean every last drop of information they could squeeze out.         The Voyager shimmered out of view, cloaking herself once again, and warped out of the sector.         Janeway sat in the mess hall, about to take a bite out of her dinner. Her combadge chirped. She sighed and put her fork down, and tapped her badge to receive the incoming message. "Bridge to Janeway. Message from Station Nine for you, captain."         Janeway stood up and started waking out of the mess, as she replied, "I'll take it in my quarters." She walked briskly to the turbolift, to move up another deck. Once in her quarters, she walked to her comm unit on the wall.         The screen blipped to reveal Admiral Riker's face. "Hello, Admiral," Janeway said.         Riker smiled, "Hello, Captain. How're you doing?"         "I"m doing fine, thank you. And how have you been?"         "Can't complain. Anyway, let's get to the point. I've been asked to extend my congratulations on the successful mission of last week. So far, Intel has gathered a lot of helpful information, with more sure to come. Starfleet is planning on giving you and your crew a commendation."         Then with a malicious gleam in his eye, Riker added, "Posthumously, of course."         Janeway laughed.         Riker continued, "Anyway, another bit of good news. In the clean up, we salvaged a nearly intact Galor class ship. So we might be able to use it in further covert missions. And finally, preparations are underway for your next stop at Station Nine."         "That's good to hear, sir. We're still on schedule for our rendezvous."         "Good. Well, that's all. Riker out."         The screen went black. OPEN-HEART SURGERY         Riker turned from the monitor. He stroked his Van Dyke goatee. With a sigh, he got up and walked to OPS. He saw Commander O'Brien kneeling yet again in a wall. Apparently, O'Brien still felt the stations's defenses still needed some adjustments. Riker wondered idly whether this was a manifestation of his guilt over surviving his wife's death. I'm an admiral, not a psychoanalyst, Riker told himself. Besides, everyone aboard the station has lost someone at some point during this war, myself included. He paused, and forced himself not to pursue that avenue of thought, since it led to Deanna. He spied Sisko entering his office. Riker walked up the steps and entered Sisko's office.         Sisko turned around to see Riker following him into the office. "Hello, sir. What may I do for you today?" Sisko said as he settled into his chair at his desk. All spread across the desktop were PADDs, and his desktop computer terminal was currently displaying the station's diagnostic logs. Riker could feel the burden on the captain's back, just as if it were on his own shoulders.         "Nothing in particular. I just saw you and wanted to drop by and see how you were holding up."         Sisko rubbed his temples, and sighed. "Well, I'm fine. It's just that there are so many things to do, in addition to being a covert supply dump for...." his voice trailed off. Both men knew what was unspoken.         "Oh," Riker spoke up, "speaking of that, I recently had a seance." Sisko smiled in spite of himself. When the two had discussed on how to proceed with the mission, they needed to come up with a code word that would indicate that they had communications with the Voyager. Riker had suggested using the term 'seance' since the crew was officially dead. Starfleet objected to such a frivolous term, but since Riker was in charge of the operation, the objections were overridden. It stuck.         Wil Riker had always been a lighthearted man, but as the war dragged on, as his comrades fell one by one, his humor began to take on a more morbid tone. "Black comedy," Riker admitted. "AKA Gallows humor." But his sense of humor served him well, and helped lighten the burden on himself and his officers... especially Janeway. Riker knew that her mission had to be the most stressful one she's ever had... living for months behind enemy lines, always in danger of discovery, of death. So he always tried to have a light word to make Janeway smile, and temporarily forget the sword over her neck.         "So, a seance?" Sisko asked. "What did you talk about?"         "Oh, just relaying the latest report out of Starfleet concerning the results of her past few missions. Also informed her of a commendation on her crew."         "Posthumously, of course." Sisko smiled.         "Gee, have I been using that joke that often?" Riker smiled.         Sisko shrugged. His smile disappeared and he assumed a more serious tone. "Have you given her Starfleet's latest projections on the war effort?"         Riker sighed, his smile fading away. "No. She has enough on her mind than more doom and gloom. She knew the war was going badly before she left on the mission."         "Badly?" Sisko looked at his desk, through his PADDs then picked up one, tapping on the screen. "Badly?" he repeated. "Look at this. The latest reports from HQ say they predict that if things continue as they are, our fleets will be nearly wiped out. Once that happens, the Cardassians will simply start seizing vast amounts of our territories. The Federation as we know it will fall."         Riker gritted his teeth. "They're just numbers. They fail to take into account humanity. Oh, I'm not talking about humanity in terms of purely humans; I include every sentient being in the Federation. I have more faith in humanity than those number crunchers. You forget whom you're talking to. I'm the former second in command of the Enterprise. That name, that ship should tell you everything you need to know. Many times we've found ourselves in the corner, no way out. But ingenuity, courage, spirit, and willpower saved us every single time. That will happen to us. The Federation will survive, no matter what."         Riker was standing now, stabbing his finger at Sisko. When he finished, he realized what he was doing. Sisko stared at him.         "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."         Sisko nodded, shrugging it off, "It's allright. I understand. I feel the same way, and I'm sure everyone here does too."         "Hey, have you had a meal yet today?" Riker inquired.         Sisko paused, then shook his head. "No I haven't."         "Come on, I'll buy you lunch." Riker smiled.         "Well...I don't know..." Sisko sighed.         "I'm an admiral. Don't make me have to order you." Riker said, in mock seriousness. Sisko smiled faintly, and got up, following Riker.         O'Brien and Bashir watched Sisko and Riker walk into the replimat. They went up to the replicator and ordered their meals. O'Brien shrugged and looked back down to his plate. Bashir continued to observe the two commanding officers.         "Julian, didn't your mother tell you it's not polite to stare?" O'Brien admonished Bashir.         "Sorry, Miles. I can't help but wonder what ultra top secret things they might be discussing."         O'Brien snorted. "Likely wondering which rations to order, Slop A, or Gunk B. They're normal men, like us. They put their uniforms on one leg at a time. Trust me, I served under Riker way back when he was just a commander. If you ask me, I think being admiral is too much for him. He wouldn't be an admiral if it were not for this damned war."         "But what about Kirk? He hit captain and admiral so fast, and they weren't even really in war time."         "Kirk? Kirk was just a lucky S.O.B. Granted, he was a strong leader, but he wasn't God." O'Brien took a bite out of his bar.         "That's true... although he did meet God, even if it turned out to be a fake."         "Oh come on, don't bring that up.... everybody's trying to forget that whole sorry situation..."         The two comrades fell silent, crunching on their meal bars. "Is it just me, or has HQ figured out a way to remove the taste of these rations?" O'Brien mused.         Bashir smiled ruefully. A combadge chirped. Bashir and O'Brien felt their badges, then O'Brien said, "It's mine." He tapped it, "O'Brien here. Go."         "Commander O'Brien, OPS here," a young voice spoke.         Bashir winced as he heard the young man address O'Brien as commander.         "Are you new to the station?" O'Brien asked.         "Uhh... yes. I just got on a few weeks ago... why?" the voice asked puzzledly.         "What's your name, son?"         "Uh.. Ensign Montoya."         "Listen, don't call me Commander. Everyone calls me Chief. Or O'Brien. I don't feel like a Commander O'Brien. I'm a Chief at heart."         "But... protocol requires..."         "Protocol be damned! The captain calls me Chief. Hell, Admiral Riker calls me Chief. There's your protocol."         "Uh, sorry Comman... uh Chief, uh sir."         "Now, what did you want to tell me?" O'Brien asked.         "What? Oh! Oh yes. Ensign Gonzalez has requested for you to meet him."         "Sure. Where?"         "Outside, sir."         O'Brien sat puzzled for a second, before realizing that Gonzalez was currently assigned to repair the docking pylon.         "An EVA?" O'Brien groaned. "I hate EVAs."         O'Brien throttled a little forward, pushing a button on his suit's glove. His backpack spurted a little, propelling him forward in space. He was on his way up to the reconstruction site, to meet Ensign Gonzalez. The ensign didn't tell him anything further, beyond his request for a second opinion. O'Brien floated slowly up to the platform that was around the pylon. Several people were already there, in their EVA suits, tethered to the platform so they wouldn't float away in space. O'Brien peered through his helmet's faceplate, to recognize the face of Ensign Gonzalez.         "Well, I'm here, ensign. What seems to be the problem?"         Ensign Gonzalez's voice came through to O'Brien's ears clearly through the suit's comm system. "Well, I'm not sure, Chief. I think it'd just be better for me to show you. Follow me." With that, Gonzalez unattached his tether, and leaped up from the platform, using his EVA suit's thrusters. O'Brien increased his suit's speed, to follow the ensign.         Along the way, O'Brien surveyed the reconstruction efforts. He nodded approvingly to himself as he saw competent repair jobs. Still, as he looked around, scars of battle remained, the most glaring of which was the still unattached upper pylon. It was held to the stump with a lattice work of durasteel beams and an ungodly mass of cables and wiring. O'Brien muttered a prayer of thanks for the fact that the pylon hadn't been completely sheared off, otherwise they'd have no hopes of repairing it.         O'Brien noticed that Ensign Gonzalez had stopped moving and was hovering by a section of burnt metal on the pylon's stump. "Well, what is it?" O'Brien asked.         "I don't know, I was hoping you'd tell me." Gonzalez pointed at a small conical device that seemed to be embedded in the metal. O'Brien gently applied his thrusters to drift closer to the device. O'Brien gestured for Gonzalez's engineering tricorder. Gonzalez floated it to O'Brien. O'Brien snagged the tricorder and started to take readings. As he read the tricorder's screen, he looked up in horror.         "So this thing stuck in the upper docking pylon out there is a bomb?" Colonel Kira asked O'Brien.         The entire senior crew was standing around the central console in OPS. O'Brien nodded, scratching at his beard. He was still in his EVA suit, due to the urgency of the situation. "The reason why Ensign Gonzalez didn't immediately recognize it is because it's an highly advanced torpedo bomb. Very compact with a high yield. I only realized it when I saw the tricorder readings. The device is using an experimental crystalline powersource. Starfleet has been working on it, with no success. Anyway, my best guess is that its detonation mechanism must have failed, and it just hit and got stuck in the pylon during the last battle."         Sisko leaned forward, "So if we were to defuse it, could we study the device, and learn how the Cardassians made it?"         "Yes, sir. This is an excellent opportunity. Only problem is, I have no idea how the wiring works, much less how to defuse it. Look-" O'Brien gestured to the viewscreen. A hover cam was floating above the bomb. The screen was overlaid with internal scans of the device, showing a mass of wires, circuitry and in the center of it all was a pulsating orange fist-sized crystal. "That crystal you see is the powersource. It's giving off too much electromagnetic radiation for us to identify the composition of the crystal. Look below the wiring. You can make out the tanks of antimatter."         "Enough to blast half of the station away..." Jadzia Dax whispered. The crew stared silently at the harbinger of death; peacefully pulsating away embedded in the station. The silence was broken by the uneven step of Dr. Bashir. He had just stepped off the lift.         "Hi- sorry I'm late. A surgical procedure ran over time. What'd I miss?" Bashir's gaze went up to the viewscreen. He stared at the screen intently, then finally asked, "What's that?"         "It's a bomb, Julian," Dax told him. "A new advanced type of torpedo bomb the Cardassians developed."         "Apparently it didn't blow when the Cardies fired it on us in the last battle," O'Brien explained. "We're trying to figure out how to defuse it. I'm at a loss because it's so new."         Bashir's mouth quirked up in a semi-amused smile. "Um, I don't know if this means anything, but what's on the viewscreen looks almost exactly the same as the Cardassian circulatory system." The others stared at him, trying to comprehend his analogy.         "Look," Bashir limped down the steps and tapped a button on a console on the wall, bringing up the hover cam feed. Bashir pointed to the crystal, "That's the heart of course." Then he traced several cables leading in and out of the heart. "These are the upper and lower arteries. And there are the major veins, and so forth. You get the idea."         O'Brien narrowed his eyes, nodding slowly. "Y'know, it's just crazy enough to be true. That could be the answer. We simply cut off the arteries of the heart, of the powersource, that is, and we have a dead bomb on our hands to study!"         Sisko smiled, and started to speak, when Bashir interrupted. "I'm sorry, but there's only one problem. In Cardassian physiology, the heart has many alternative arteries, which could serve as replacement heart arteries. Even if one severed all five major arteries, the heart would continue working. One would have to disconnect the 5 major sub-arteries."         "So, O'Brien here would just have to sever those sub-arteries." Sisko said.         "Yes, he could, if we knew which 5 sub-arteries to cut. The Cardassians are notoriously reluctant to release anatomical information," Bashir looked at Sisko.         Colonel Kira heaved an angry sigh, "So...What? We're back at square one?"         "Not necessarily. I'm pretty confident that I should be able to figure out the sub-arteries." Bashir answered.         "Confident enough to put your life on the line?" Sisko asked him.         "Well... yes. Yes, sir I am." Bashir stood up straight.         "Good. Suit up as soon as possible. The chief will lead you to the site." Sisko told Bashir.         O'Brien nodded to acknowledge the order. "Come on Julian. Let's take you to the tailor's shop for a suit."         Outside, in the blackness of the space, O'Brien looked over at Bashir. Bashir was smiling, obviously enjoying the flight up. "You allright? No queasiness?" O'Brien asked.         "No, I'm perfectly allright. You forget I used to play zero gee tennis. Besides, who would vomit in this beautiful setting?" Bashir answered back.         O'Brien shook his head, smiling slightly. In OPS, the whole crew stared at the viewscreen, watching the white-suited figures of O'Brien and Bashir float upwards. They watched as the pair set down onto the construction platform, which had been evacuated recently.         Dax watched her console, and spoke, "Allright Julian. I'm going to keep a transporter lock on you and Miles at all times, in case anything happens. If by some chance, you do fail, I will erect a forcefield around the bomb. Hopefully that will contain the brunt of the explosion."         "But isn't this so powerful that a forcefield wouldn't matter?" Bashir inquired.         "It's better than nothing," Jadzia shrugged.         "I see," Bashir commented.         By now, O'Brien and Bashir were hovering by the torpedo bomb. The hover cam floated nearby, giving OPS a full view of the men. Bashir drifted to the bomb, inspecting the metal hull. He noticed a small latch, and reached out to press on it.         O'Brien shouted out, "Wait Julian! There might be-"         A piece of the device's metal shell popped open, in a flash of light. Sisko watched on the viewscreen as several laser beams sliced out from inside the bomb device. Bashir scrambled away desperately, trying to avoid the beams. O'Brien was already out of range. An orange laser beam sliced through the leg of Bashir's EVA suit. Air and debris flew out from the stump, and Bashir screamed in anguish, tossed back in a backspin. His leg spun in another direction.         "JULIAN!" O'Brien screamed. Sisko gasped, as the whole OPS crew froze in shock. O'Brien lunged forward, throttling his EVA suit to catch Bashir.         Suddenly Bashir's arm started moving about. He gasped, and said, "I'm allright! I'm allright! It was only my prosthetic leg." He looked at his monitor gauge on his forearm. "The suit's controls clamped down on the breach. I'm perfectly fine." Bashir stabilized his motion, ending his backwards somersault.         O'Brien and everybody in OPS heaved a sigh of relief. "Are you allright to continue?" Sisko asked.         "Yes sir. I'd like to continue. After all, how many people can say they lost the same leg twice?"         Sisko chuckled in spite of himself.         O'Brien met up with Bashir and the two glided back to the device.         "I've lost them!" Jadzia shouted.         "What? What happened?" Sisko shouted.         "Wait! I'm sorry. I've only lost sensors on them. They're fine, as you can see on the monitor. I would think that now the hull has been opened, the electromagnetic radiation is affecting the immediate area. We don't have communications with them, nor a transporter lock."         Sisko sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Can't you boost the comm signal?"         "Sorry, Benjamin." Dax said. Up on the viewscreen, Sisko could see O'Brien apparently trying to communicate with them. He looked at the hover cam, then floated towards it. O'Brien's face filled up the viewscreen now.         "-an you hear me now? O'Brien to OPS, can you hear me now?" O'Brien's voice crackled over the intercom.         "Yes, Chief, we can hear you now," Sisko responded.         "Good," O'Brien said. "The radiation's interference doesn't reach out far. We have a problem now. When Bashir set off the booby trap, it seems he set off a countdown. We don't know how long it's going to be, so be ready with the forcefield at anytime."                 "But we don't have a transporter lock on him," Dax reminded Sisko.         He nodded, sighing. "Be prepared to turn forcefield on, whether or not the doctor has moved out of range."         "But he would be trapped in the heart of the explosion!" O'Brien objected.         "At least it'll be a quick death," Sisko replied.         O'Brien fell silent, and turned to watch Bashir at work on the bomb.         Already several cables were disconnected, floating out like tentacles from the bomb. Julian wiggled his stump and foot as he struggled to stay in place, working feverishly to disconnect the rest of the cables. Everybody on OPS held their breath, anticipating an explosion that would rock the station.         "Come on, Julian...come on Julian... you can do it... you can do it..." Sisko muttered silently under his breath.         The viewscreen showed Bashir brushing aside cable cords, and delicately disconnecting several smaller cable wires. Bashir reached deep inside the machine, struggling to reach another wire,         "Benjamin. The energy levels are rising in the bomb!" Dax shouted. Sisko looked up at the viewscreen. Static had started to flicker over the screen, the energy levels interfering with the hover cam's feed.         "Get ready with the forcefield Dax! All hands, brace for impact!" Sisko shouted into the intercom. The whole station began to flare red with the initiation of Red Alert. The viewscreen suddenly brightened, becoming totally white, with static completely obscuring the picture. Sisko and Kira gripped the main Operations console, prepared to feel the shockwave rock the station.         Then the viewscreen cleared up. Sisko saw Bashir triumphantly holding up one cable in his fist. Everybody started breathing again.                  "I was just basically guessing with the last few cables. I saw the crystal start to glow, and I felt hotter, so I figured the detonation sequence was starting. I watched as the power flow, until I saw the last cord that carried out the electromagnetic energy. I grabbed it and yanked it out, effectively letting the bomb bleed to death."                 Bashir and O'Brien were in Sisko's office, being debriefed. "That's what caused the hover cam to go down. The radiation washed out over a larger radius." O'Brien explained. Sisko sat back in his chair, nodding. "I see. Well, you two will be commended for your honorable actions. How goes the extraction process?" Sisko asked O'Brien.         "Well, we're nearly done cutting it out. We're trying to keep it as intact as possible to give to Starfleet Intel."         "I'm sure they can't wait."         "Neither can I...I'm curious to see if we can make our own now that we have a working template."         Sisko smiled at O'Brien's enthusiasm. "Well I'll be sure to keep you updated. Dismissed."                 Bashir and O'Brien turned to walk out of the office. Bashir was using a pair of crutches, since he had lost his prosthetic leg. "You know, I'll make you the best cybernetic leg ever, for saving our asses," O'Brien told Bashir.         "Gee thanks. I've been asking for a new leg for several weeks now. And all I had to do was have it cut off and then defuse a bomb." O'Brien slapped Bashir on his back, laughing.         Sisko sighed, smiling as the two men walked out.

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