Lieutenant Kaitlynn Campbell sighed for the thousandth time as the ship shook violently, and she banged her shoulder against the wall of the Jeffrey's tube. She was trying to repair modulator damaged from a battle skirmish they had had a little over an hour ago.
 Pain shot through her shoulder as she hit the wall again.
 "Blast it! Campbell to Engineering."
 "Engineering here."
 "Is this Ens. John Rodgers?"
 "Yes, ma'am."
 Good, she thought. She had gotten the right Rodgers brother.
 "Ensign, I want ye to come and take over these shield repairs. I'm injured."
 "Aye, ma'am. I'll be there in a minute."
 "Do ye know my location, Ensign?"
 "Jeffrey's section 18 2BB9?"
 "Yes, that's it."
 "I'm on my way now. Rodgers' out."
 Kaitlynn picked up her tool and began to continue the repairs, at least until Rodgers got to her position. Soon she saw John Rodgers and she moved aside, so he could assume her work.
 "Be careful, Rodgers, if ye hit the walls," she warned.
 He nodded and set about his work. Kaitlynn made her way awkwardly down the tube and out.
 

 Mathew looked as the sickbay doors opened yet again, and in walked Kaitlynn. She was cradling her left shoulder as she made her way to an empty biobed. Mathew went immediately to her and opened his tricorder.
 "What happened?" he asked.
 "I was workin' in a Jeffrey's Tube and I hit the wall with me shoulder after one of the Jem 'Hadar vollies," Kaitlynn explained.
 "You've dislocated it. I'm just starting to get more serious injuries just now that need my attention," he said.
 "I understand, Mathew."
 "I'll have one of the nurses give you something for the pain," he said.
 Kaitlynn nodded. "Oh, Mathew, me baby's . . ."
 Mathew nodded an assurance, and smiled. "They're fine, Kaitlynn. You needn't worry," he replied and walked off.
 Twins! Kaitlynn realized, as he walked off. Ishmael did say that they ran on his father's side of the family, and that they had a tendency to skip a generation. His elder brother did not have twins, but apparently they were going to have twins! She smiled.
 

 "Rather exorbitant prices," Willoughby remarked.
 That's the price you pay when you deal with the Orions," Ryan responded. "The point isn't to make a profit, anyway. We just need a way to explain our visit to Deep Space Nine."
 "You mean, Terek Nor, don't you?"
 "For now, maybe."
 

 The Cardassian officer glared at them from the viewscreen. Willoughby sat discreetly out of site to the side; Crystyl had shifted her facial structure and morphotype slightly for disguise purposes.
 "Identify yourselves," the Cardassian growled.
 "We are the Sirenian Merchant Freighter D'Surani," Ryan replied. "We request docking space on Terek Nor for commercial reasons. Our freight includes a quantity of Kanar and yamok, for sale at a good price."
 The Cardassian glanced off-screen to consult, silently, with someone. Then he nodded, and turned back. His eyes glinted with appetite. "Permission granted," he said. "Proceed to Upper Docking Pylon Two."
 "We're in," Ryan congratulated herself after the screen had blanked.
 "Well done, miss," Willoughby made silent applause-motion with his webbed hands. "And we also have reason to make our way to Quark's; to do business."
 "Yes, exactly," Ryan agreed, then turned to look at Willoughby critically. "You'll need a different look, though."
 Willoughby gazed down at his black frock coat and pin-striped trousers. "Not formal enough?" he asked. "Perhaps a tuxedo, then? Or a nice trench coat for that agent-look . . . ?"
 Ryan more than half knew he was playing with her, but indulged him. "no, the idea, when you're an intelligence operative, is not to dress or behave in such a way that would advertise you and say, 'Look! I'm a spy! Shoot me!'"
 "Ah!" Willoughby returned. "Then you don't want me skulking about an looking ominous?"
 "Only advisedly," she said. "For right now, go back to the replicator and make a large, hooded robe for yourself. Loose, so you can move easily; covering your whole body and head. You might want a pair of gloves as well."
 "What color would you like, miss?"
 "Something nondescript. Gray or brown. And see if you can't lose the accent while you're on the station."
 "I'll have you know, madame, that it took me years of meticulous work to get this accent."
 Ryan sighed. Hopefully, he wouldn't be such a pain when things got authentically dangerous. "All right, then," she finally said. "Don't lose it. But . . .maybe you could mislay it for awhile. Somewhere you can pick it right up again later, when we leave Deep Space -- uh, Terek Nor."
 "Very well, miss," Willoughby face assumed a patient, martyred expression. He made a key-turning motion alongside his jaw. "Tick-a-lock."
 "Tick-a-lock," Ryan repeated, and pointed to the replicator.

 
 "Report!" Reauwl ordered from her command chair.
 "Shields are down 30%," T'Hara responded as she studied her console. "There has been some structural damage to decks eight and five; hull integrity is down 13%. The warp engines have gone off-line."
 "Tactical report!" Allias ordered as he rushed up to the weapons console, manned by Lt. O'Neil.
 "There are two Jem 'Hadar warships bearing down on us, coordinates eight-point- seven and three-point-five," O'Neil responded.
 "Lock phasers and fire!" Reauwl ordered.
 O'Neil didn't hesitate. The forward phasers lashed out across the open space between the Adamant and the Jem 'Hadar warships. Two phaser blasts hit the first Jem 'Hadar ship, causing it's shields to buckle. It spun out of control, drifting away from the Adamant. The second Jem 'Hadar ship took one shot from the Adamant's phasers, but was able to avoid the others that were directed toward it.
 "The first Jem 'Hadar ship is damaged and adrift. It's power readings are fluctuating," O'Neil reported as Allias joined her.
 "The second ship took a hit on it's shields, but managed to avoid our other shots," Allias added. "It's coming around for a second pass."
 The warship swooped around on an intercept course. The Adamant compensated by taking evasive measures. With all the ships flying around each other, the scene looked like rival hornet's nests swarming around each other. The exchanged volleys of phaser fire and torpedo fire just added to the melee. The attacking Jem 'Hadar warship was closing in on the Adamant.
 "Try and keep it off our tail!" Reauwl ordered.  It was too late. Crew all over the Adamant was tossed about as three phaser blasts from the warship crashed into the Adamant's shields.
 

 Quark sighed lugubriously. Business was not good. he wouldn't starve, but . . . after he paid the help, and the bills for the station power and repairs (Cardassians seemed to like breaking things from time to time. He had submitted applications for reimbursement, but none was yet forthcoming.) there was little profit to count.
 Candidly - and he wouldn't want to admit this to anyone - he missed the Federation. Yes, the UFP as a whole were insufferably cheery and optimistic; the officers of Starfleet in particular were painfully honest and intolerant of those who weren't always. But they encouraged visits from many different races; they were hospitable. And when all the races of the Alpha Quadrant felt free to drop in, they would often come to Quark's: to eat and drink, and gamble. And even when customers - say particularly rapacious Klingons, or an over-excited Trill - would wreck the holosuites, Starfleet would force them to make good on the damages.
 But not there were the Gem 'Hadar who didn't eat, didn't drink, didn't gamble, didn't fantasize . . . it was obscene. They just took their occasional shot of white and then stalked around menacing people and guarding things.
 The Cardassians, on the other hand, enjoyed Quark's services, but didn't always bother to pay for them. Again, he was free to submit application for remuneration . . . and he had! But, again . . . this had returned no latinum.
 And, to add insult to injury, he still had to deal with Security Chief Odo! The cursed Changeling was one of the few who had stayed on when Deep Space Nine became Terek Nor.
 One benefit, though . . . a minor one . . . was that his brother, Rom, was back on staff. Quark had never liked him working with (working for!) the humans and their friends. Rom had done surprisingly well at that, but it was over now. He'd come crawling back, asking for only the most minimal of salaries. Quark was actually curious about that: his brother - who had founded a labor union once to organize his workers against him - seemed to ask for nothing but the chance to work at his bar, and enough latinum to put grubs on the table. But good things in his life were rare these days, and something in his gut told him that he probably shouldn't ask too many questions.
 Quark roused from his gloomy reverie as two new visitors (guests?) made their appearance. One was female, tall and slim, with crystal-laden hair; a PADD in her hand. The other was shorter, though at that he approached seven feet, broad and massive; completely swathed in a concealing brown robe. Quark made haste to welcome them.
 "Good afternoon!" he said, warmly (for Quark). "I'm so glad you stopped at my humble establishment. Any appetite you have, I'm sure we can satisfy."
 The female looked down at him, disdainfully. "Assistant," she addressed the one with her. "I do not like this Ferengi. Deal with him, while I have a drink." she handed the PADD to the brown-robed individual, and strode imperiously away to take a seat ar a small corner table. Quark noted Rom heading toward the new customer with more-than-adequate dispatch.
 "We have Kanar to sell you," said the broad creature in a rough, gravelly voice. "And yamok."
 "Ah, I see," smiled Quark, charmingly (for Quark), taking the proffered PADD. "I notice, though, that the yamok is in its pre-sauce form. Cardassians do not like their yamok raw."
 "Yamok sauce doesn't travel well," the other grated. "Yamoks do. make sauce here."
 "An expensive procedure," Quark began, but the robed creature cut him off with a growl.
 "I know cooking," he stated, "Not expensive, not hard."
 "Well, of course there's a certain amount of time and labor involved," Quark continued the negotiating session.
 Meanwhile, Crystyl had taken a seat in the Ferengi, Rom's, service area. he bustled over to her, saying, "uh, welcome to Quark's, ma'am. May I take your order?"
 "Some Altair water, please," began Crystyl, then implemented one of the code phrases given to her, "Or, perhaps you have some rootbeer . . ."
 Rom jerked upright, then narrowed his eyes and gave the countersign, "We have rootbeer, but it's gone flat. There are no bubbles."
 "That's okay," Rayn replied, giving the counter-countersign, to let Rom know that this was not a coincidence. "I don't plan to drink it. I'm using it to wash my pet targ."
 Rom nodded and gave her a big smile. "Then I have just what you need!" he said, and bustled away.
 "We have plenty of Kanar already!" Rayn heard Quark claim from across the room.
 "That's not what the guard in the storage bay said!" the disguised Willoughby roared back at him.
 "That guard-" Quark began with asperity, then noted several Cardassians seated nearby turning to regard him with curiosity and imminent threat, "-is obviously honest and hard-working, but quite mistaken!" he quickly amended.
 "You don't want Kanar?" Willoughby rumbled. "Fine, we'll sell it on Bajor. There are many Cardassians there."
 Their audience was regarding Quark with pleading gazes - though imminent threat was still there, too. The Ferengi sighed. "Oh, I suppose I can take it off your hands and save you a trip -" he began.
 Rom reappeared at Rayn's elbow. He bowed and place a flagon of Altair water on the table, surreptitiously slipping the changeling a chip and a note. She signed over the credit chits for the Altair water, and handed Rom a slip of latinum. "keep it," she said. "For your trouble."
 Rom's eyes grew larger as he hid the slip away. "This is the biggest tip I've ever gotten! I like this job!"
 Crystyl smiled, and motioned him away. A moment later Willoughby joined her. "Have and Altair water," she invited, not wanting to drink it herself.
 Willoughby maneuvered the flagon carefully under his hood and quaffed. Then he handed over the PADD. "I did not fare too badly," he quietly slipped back into his Oxford British dialect. "As you can see, we've nearly broken even."
 "Better than I expected," Rayn nodded. Then she glanced at the note. "Hurry and finish your drink," she said, "We've got a little errand to run, then we'll want to leave. Quickly."
 "That's all right, miss," he said in low-pitched Oxfordian. "Not my sort of place anyway."
 

 LT. Kaitlynn Campbell sighed for the thousandth time as the ship shook violently and she banged her shoulder against the wall of the Jeffrey's tube. She was trying to repair a shield modulator damaged from the ongoing skirmish with the Jem 'Hadar. She had a bad feeling the worst was yet to come . . .
 Pain shot through her shoulder as she hit the wall again.
 "Blast it! Campbell to Engineering," she called out as she tapped her comm badge.
 "Engineering here," came the masculine replied.
 "Is this Ens. John Rodgers?' she asked.
 "Yes, ma'am," he replied.
 Good, she thought. She had gotten the right Rodgers' brother. "Ensign, I want ye to come and take over these Shield repairs. I'm injured."
 "Aye, ma'am," came the quick reply, "I'll be there in a minute."
 "Do ye know me location, Ensign?"
 "Jeffrey's section 18 2BB9?"
 "Aye, that's it," she confirmed.
 "I'm on my way. Rodgers, out."
 Kaitlynn picked up her tools and continued the repairs. There was no sense in letting the time go to waste, she thought, as she waited for Rodgers to arrive at her position. Soon, she saw John Rodgers, and she moved aside so he could assume her work.
 "Be careful, Rodgers'," she warned, "Ye don't want to hit the walls."
 He nodded and set about the work. Slowly and awkwardly, Kaitlynn made her way down and out of the tube.
 

 Mathew looked up from a patient he was just finishing up on as the doors opened yet again. This time, it was Kaitlynn Campbell. injuries were being reported all over the ship. Several had already arrived in sickbay for treatment. And here was Kaitlynn, cradling her left shoulder as she made her way to an empty  biobed. Mathew went to her immediately and opened his tricorder.
 "What happened?" he asked.
 "I was workin' in a Jeffrey's tube and I hit the wall with my shoulder. With all the fightin', it's not hard to imagine what it's like in those tubes, is it?"
 "Well, you've dislocated it," he explained.
 Suddenly, the doors slid open once again. This time, there were several individuals with lacerations on different parts of their bodies.
 "I'm starting to get more serious injuries that need my attention right now," he explained.
 "I understand," she replied.
 "I'll have one of the nurses give you something for the pain. I'll be back to relocate your shoulder shortly, Okay?"
 Kaitlynn nodded, but she was more worried than in pain. "Oh-Mathew, what about me baby . . . ?"
 Taking a look at the tricorder readings once more to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he gave her a reassuring smile. "They're fine, Kaitlynn. There's nothing for you to worry about." With a friendly wink, he walked off to tend his other patients.
 Suddenly, a mild dizziness swept through her. TWINS!  She and Ishmael were having twins! He had mentioned that twins ran on his father's side of the family, and that they had a tendency to skip a generation. His elder brother didn't have any twins, but apparently, they were! Kaitlynn smiled and lost herself for a time in daydreams of motherhood.
 

 The bridge was still filled with commotion as the battle continued with the Jem'Hadar. With every volley of laser fire the Adamant shook violently, and no matter what she did to avoid the impacts and return fire, she continued to get rocked by hostile's weapons. Suddenly, Lt. Carrington turned to Reauwl with a puzzled look on her face.
 "Commander, there's a message coming into the bridge from Deck 10. It's for Lt. McKenzie."
 "In the middle of this?" Reauwl growled.
 "He says it's urgent," the Lieutenant replied.
 T'Hara was perplexed. Who would be trying to reach her from Deck 10? It made no sense to her. But a shiver crept down her spine.
 "Send it through," Reauwl replied, irritated, but curious.
 The voice was masculine, older, and filled with worry and fear. "T'Hara!"
 Instantly, she knew it was her father. What was he doing on Deck 10? she wondered with panic. he wasn't even suppose to be aboard the ship anymore!
 "Dad? Is that you . . . ?" she asked, not wanting to believe what her ears and mind were telling her.
 "Aye, darlin', it's yer dad."
 "What are you still doing aboard the ship? And where's Christopher?!" she asked, with worry and dread filling her soul.
 But suddenly, there was a rumbling and roar that could be felt and heard all over the ship. Suddenly, consoles sparked or exploded, panels blew out, pressure gages failed, and bodies fell, either dead or injured. The Adamant listed badly on her port side. The force of the blast had been so strong, it threw the bridge's crew from their seats and stations. Communications, internal and otherwise, had been severed, and several members seemed to be seriously injured. T'Hara, herself, had been flung into her console, striking her head with enough force to make her loss consciousness and fall to the floor. The wound to her head began bleeding profusely.
 For several moments, the bridge was silent and motionless, except for the crackling sound of the broken cables hanging from above and from the consoles around the bridge. The air was filled with smoke. Reauwl and Allias were the first to pull themselves up off the deck. Allias noticed a sharp pain in his right shoulder. he looked down, and saw that his uniform had been torn. There was a small gash on the top of his shoulder and blood was bleeding from the wound. he looked around to see who else was injured. he pulled himself up and then staggered over to Reauwl, who looked in no better shape then he did.
 "Are you okay?" he asked. it seemed like a slightly stupid question, but relevant, considering the circumstances.
 "I've been known to feel better," she replied. A quick look over herself revealed that she had no visible injuries, but her knee felt sore, probably from when she was thrown from her chair. "Let's check the others, then see how the ship is doing," she said as she began to survey the bridge.
 Allias walked over to the helm controls. Ensign Thompson was slumped over the console. He gently pulled her back. The sight was grisly; she had suffered severe plasma burns. Even though he knew she could not have survived the severity of her wounds, he checked for a pulse anyway.
 "She's dead," he said, as he walked over tot he science station. T'Hara was lying unconscious on the deck in front of her console. Allias checked her for injuries.
 Reauwl had walked over to the weapons console. O'Neil was pulling herself up. She had a cut above her left eye on her forehead. Reauwl helped her stand up straight.
 "Are you all right?" Reauwl asked.
 "I think so, Captain," she responded in an uneven voice. She was obviously shaken by what had happened.
 "Ensign, I need a report on our status as soon as possible. Do you think you can handle it?" Reauwl asked in a tone meant to be encouraging, rather than forceful.
 O'Neil looked at her for a moment, then nodded her acknowledgement and returned to her console. Reauwl then walked over to the communications station. Lt. Beth Carrington was sprawled on the deck next to her console. Reauwl bent down to look at her. She could tell she was still alive, but her arm was pointed in a fashion that made it obvious it was broken, along with several cuts and bruises.
 "Just lie still, Lieutenant, help is on the way," Reauwl said, as she moved and brushed away pieces of debris that were around Carrington's body.
 Allias walked over to the emergency  console and pulled out the emergency medical kits. Reauwl stood back up and took her first good look around the bridge. What she saw made her heart sink. The bridge was in shambles. Even though it was dimly lit by emergency lighting and the repetitive pulse of the  red alarm lights, she could see the extent of the damage. The main force of the explosion come from the turbo-lift shaft. Reauwl walked over to the gaping hole where the doors to the turbo-lift once stood, and peered over the edge into blackness. Looks like we are going to have to use the Jeffrey's tubes for awhile, Reauwl thought to herself. She turned around, just as O'Neil started to get the first reports from around the ship.
 "Captain, I'm getting the first status reports in: Several main systems are off-line and running on emergency power; shields and weapons are down; internal communications are gone along with the computer; there is severe structural damage on decks three through seven, as well as a hull breach on deck thirteen; we are without helm control and adrift; the warp containment field os still holding, but unless we repair the damaged conduits, it would eventually fail."
 "Casualty report?" Reauwl asked.
 "Readings are sketchy, Captain, but there are several casualties and injured all over the ship," O'Neil replied.
 "Is there any way for us to get in contact with other parts of the ship?" Allias asked, as he treated the other injured bridge personnel.
 "Best we could do for now is on foot," O'Neil replied, "It will take several hours to make the needed repairs."
 Reauwl considered the options in front of her. it was hard to think, since her mind was racing at warp speed, trying to figure out what to do next. "Let's get what systems we can salvage back on-line," she said, as she walked down to the science station.
 T'Hara's consciousness returned slowly, as he Commander's voice reached her through the darkness.
 "T'Hara . . . T'Hara . . ."
 She opened her eyes cautiously, since her head was throbbing a bit. What had happened? she wondered, in a moment of disorientation. But as she glanced the destruction of the bridge, she remembered it all. With Reauwl's help, she sat up, head still throbbing. Taking a deep breath, she used her mind and pushed the pain away. She couldn't afford to be distracted by it.
 "How are you?" Reauwl asked.
 "I'm all right . . . I think . . . my head aches a bit - probably from slamming it into my console. it doesn't seem to like that very much," she smirked sarcastically. With concern, she placed a hand on her abdomen where her baby grew bigger with each passing day. "I just hope my baby's all right." In that instant, she felt a strong kick and smiled. "I guess she's no worse for the wear . . . But I'd still like to have Dr. Cordon do an exam . . ."
 "I'd let you go, but unfortunately," she replied, motioning to the turbo lift. "We won't be going anywhere for awhile."
 As T'Hara picked herself up off the floor and took her seat once more, Reauwl went to check on several of the other officers who appeared in worse shape. As T'Hara gathered her thoughts on those moments before the explosion, she went through the brief conversation she'd had with her father. She still didn't understand what he was still doing aboard the Adamant. he was suppose to have left with Christopher. But if he was here, still aboard the ship . . . then Chris was sure to be there too!
 "Oh-God . . . please let them be all right," she prayed.
 "T'Hara," Reauwl said, from her Command chair, "I want you and Allias to use the Jeffrey's tubes to get to Ten-Forward, and Sickbay, to see what's going on down there. Do you feel up to it?" she asked, since she wasn't sure how much physical activity T'Hara could take in her current condition. Looking at T'Hara's bulging stomach, she guessed the Lieutenant was about six months pregnant, for her species.
 "Yes, Captain," T'Hara replied, "I'll be fine."
 "Good. I also want you both to try to gather other injured crew members into one area, like the Mess Hall or Ten-Forward. O'Neil and I will stay here and try to put things back together and try to contact one of the other ships."
 Within moments, Allias and T'Hara were at the access hatch to the Jeffrey's tubes. From around her wrist, T'Hara grabbed a black elastic band and began pulling her long hair back to get it out of the way.
 "Are you sure you can handle this?" Allias asked, looking at her with concern.
 She nodded with a smile. "Don't worry, I'll be fine . . . Besides, I want to get to Deck 10 . . . my father is there somewhere . . . I have to find him . . ."
 

 Where are they? They should have beamed aboard by now! she said to herself as she paced around her quarters. Trellia or Ensign Ami Talia as she was known aboard the Adamant, was growing impatient. Her mission was a success; she had disabled most of the Adamant's primary systems. Now she awaited the Dominion's next move, which was to transport a changeling onboard in the form of one of the crew. Rather than find a random crew member, she had found one that she had disposed of just before the detonation of the explosives she had planted bear the ship's memory core. The Founder would take the form of Lieutenant Veronica Mason, who was assigned to Engineering. Once onboard, the changeling would take the role and duties Lt. Mason had aboard the Adamant until she could attain passage to Earth. Upon arrival, she would contact other Changelings still there.
 

 T'Hara and Allias carefully crawled along the Jeffrey's tube trying to avoid the sparking and sputtering circuits and conduit panels that had blown out. it was rough going for T'Hara. She hadn't expected the climbing to be so difficult, even with her pregnancy. But it was taking its toll on her. The temperature in the tubes was soaring, which meant the environmental controls had been damaged. She could handle a fair amount of heat, being part Vulcan/Romulan, but carrying a child in her womb had already raised her body temperature. The heat was getting unbearable.
 "How much farther?" she asked, taking  a deep, calming breath.
 "We are two decks above Ten-Forward," Allias replied.
 They both squeezed into one of the many ladder junctions that connected the decks to each other. Allias shined his wrist light down the shaft to see if there  were any obstructions. When he saw that the way was clear, he started down the ladder.
 "Once we get to Ten-Forward, we'll see what we can do in trying to get to Sickbay."
 "Sounds good," she replied, "There's also a main communication's terminal near there. We should take a look at it," she continued, following him down the ladder.
   *   *   *
 

 Several injured crew members had found their way to Ten-Forward. There were also a couple of dead. The atmosphere was filled with tension and fear, as Takira Mataru, the substitute host while Mr. Willoughby was gone, tried to keep everyone calm. Attention turned to the doors, as Allias and T'Hara slowly pried them open and looked inside at the ragged crew. But one haggard face lit up with a relieved smile and started to the rescuers.
 "T'Hara!" the older man cried, taking her in his arms.
 "Dad?" she asked, with tears in her eyes. he was alive! He had several minor plasma burns, but nothing serious.
 "Oh-darlin'," he cried, "I was so worried about ye . . ."
 "But, dad, what are you doing here?"
 Sadly, he shook his head and looked away from her. "Christopher ran off just before it was time to board the shuttle . . . I was tryin' to find him before the attack . . . Obviously my search was unsuccessful."
 T'Hara involuntarily took a sharp breath in. Tears welted up in her eyes as her heart raced. Her baby boy was aboard, just like she'd feared, and there was the possibility that he was trapped, wounded, or dead somewhere. She didn't know what she'd do if anything had happened to him.
 "I'm so sorry, darlin' . . ." Connor whispered, breaking down into sobs himself.
 She embraced her father tenderly. Somehow they would get through this and find Christopher. They had to, she told herself. That alone, gave her the will to continue. Slowly, pulling herself together, she assessed their current situation and the injured.
 "We need to get the wounded out of here to Sickbay. They need immediate treatment," she said.
 "First  we have to find out if the path is clear," Allias replied. "I'll go ahead to make sure the corridors are not blocked."
 "Takira and I will get things organized here," she said.
 They both knew Sickbay was two decks below Ten-Forward. It would be too difficult to move the seriously  injured personnel. But perhaps there was something they could do about that.
 "T'Hara, see if you can get the turbo-lift just outside the main entrance working while I'm gone. We both know some of the injured won't be able to handle the Jeffrey's tubes."
 "You've got it," she replied as he left. Turning to Takira, she began making her way to the door as well, to check out the turbo-lift. "I'm going to leave you in charge here for a little while, why I go check out the turbo-lift. My father, Connor, can help you out if you need the assistance."
 "Yes, thank you," replied the short, green-haired man, "Good luck, Lieutenant."
 She smiled, and squeezed her pregnant body out the door, being very careful of her baby.
 As she reached the turbo-lift, she encountered a ton of debris and knew there was a strong chance of the controls being damaged beyond simple repair. But she would still check things out. Carefully, she removed fallen panels and pushed aside wires and cords of all types. Just as she neared the doors, she could hear whimpering and what sounded like scratching. Someone was in there! Using all her strength, she pried open the turbo-lift doors and was immediately greeted by a gray wolf pup half grown. It jumped up and licked her face.
 "Balto!" she cried, kneeling down and embracing her furry friend. "What were you doing there?" she asked, as if he could answer her.
 But just as sudden as his greetings, he began whining and walking a few paces away and then back to her. He did this two more time. it was then, she knew he wanted her to follow.
 "All right, I'm coming," she said, standing to her feet. "Logan, phase in."
 "As you wish," the voice from thin air replied. In seconds, the silvery sphere appeared, its green light glowing brightly.
 "I need you to keep scanning ahead. Balto wants to lead me somehwere . . . possibly to Christopher. I may not be able to see all the dangers and I'll need you to let me know if you see anything."
 "As always, T'Hara. My purpose is to watch out for you."
 "I know, my friend . . ." she replied.
 It was slow going as they went down one debris filled corridor after another when suddenly, Balto became excited.
 "I'm scanning a lifeform, of human, Vulcan/Romulan and Klingon decent . . ." Logan replied, "I believe it's  Christopher."
 T'Hara smiled, but was guarded. "How far ahead, and can you tell me how badly he's hurt?"
 "He is 50 meters ahead of you, under several heavy panels. He is presently unconscious. I cannot give a further diagnosis. I was not programmed as a doctor, much to my regret."
 "That's all right," she replied, "You've helped me beyond belief already. Come on, Balto," she said, "Let's find Christopher."
 Swiftly, the wolf made his way down the corridor to where he suddenly stopped and began sniffing and whining at several large panels that had fallen. As T'Hara reached him, she knew this was the right place. She was getting weary with everything that she'd done so far, but she had to continue. Mustering the last bit of her strength, she pulled off the heavy panels, to find her ten-year old son, unconscious and covered with blood from several lacerations. But she took solace in the fact that she could see his chest rise and fall. She knelt beside him, touched his forehead and caressed his cheek. She couldn't imagine life without her little boy.
 "Logan, can you at least tell me if I can move Christopher without hurting him further?"
 A green beam issued from the silver sphere and scanned the boy. "There are no apparent injuries to the neck or spine. I believe you may move him," Logan replied.
 "Thank you," she smiled. "Logan, phase out."
 "As you wish," he replied, as his image faded from sight.
 Gently, she scooped her son up into her arms. She could feel her abdomen growing tight with the strain of carrying such a heavy child in her arms, but she had to get Christopher to Ten-Forward.
 

 The two Jem 'Hadar warriors stood their positions stolidly before the door to the auxiliary ops area. They were alert, but still missed the transparent gelatinous patch of matter that slithered on the ceiling above them, making for the area's security camera. When it reached its objective, a thin pseudopod extruded itself and entered the camera, quickly shorting it out.
 "What was that?" said one Jem 'Hadar, keen senses picking up the faint sussuration of the camera stopping, the mild tang of burnt components. It was then that the brown- robed figure came marching up the hall singing:

 "LONDON BRIDGE IS FALLING DOWN, FALLING DOWN, FALLING DOWN. LONDON BRIDGE IS FALLING DOWN, MY FAIR LADY."

 "Stop!" One guard instructed, as both raised their weapons to shoulder. "This is a restricted area -"
 "It was then that something leapt off of the ceiling and sailed down into him from behind. He staggered forward and the other turned to target the immediate threat; Willoughby closed the distance between them. As the guard swivelled back around towards him, he delivered a smashing chop to the side of the Jem 'Hadar's neck, followed by a hard jab to the solar plexus, a knee to the stomach, then a double-fisted blow to the back of the guard's neck. As he went down, a final knee-drop finished the Jem 'Hadar for good.
 Rayn had strangled her target with thick, whip-like cilia. As her head and shoulders returned to Sirenian form, she remarked, "Not bad, Willoughby."
 "Thank you, miss. I was in security, you know, back when I was in active service."
 "Well, as far as I'm concerned, you can have your old job back anytime you want."
 "No, thank you, madame. At least not full time."
 Rayn smiled, then returned to ooze, and slipped under the nearby door. Willoughby borrowed one of the guard's blasters and stood watch until she had put the cameras in auxiliary ops out of commission and opened the door from the inside.
 "Drag them in here," she instructed, indicating the guards. "I'll be in-putting a special surprise for the Station's computers. Rom said the Cardassians almost have them back online, but I think we can fix that."
 

 "You have permission to depart, D'Surani. Disengage docking clamps."
 Rayn again maneuvered the craft out into open space. As they flew away from DS9/ Terek Nor, she surrendered herself to peals of delighted laughter. "We did it!" she exulted. "By the time they find those guards we'll be lightyears from here. And even if they figure out who did it to them, we can look different if we ever have to go back. I can be . . . anything I want, actually . . . I'm a shapeshifter! For you . .  we can make a Gorn suit or something."
 "And I had so hoped you'd let me impersonate a prima ballerina," Willoughby lamented, and smiled as her laughter carried her away again. "Where to next, miss?"
 "Next stop . . " Rayn began, then stopped. Her Sirenian countenance took on a decidedly impish caste, and she said, "No, I'm not going to tell you yet. I think we'll let it be a surprise. You like surprises, don't you?"
 "As you wish, madame," Willoughby said, stoically. "Now, if you will excuse me?" He bowed from the waist, and stepped aft to reassume his accustomed wardrobe.
 

 There were pieces of debris all over the floor. The Jeffrey's tube was clear down to the deck Sickbay was located on. He rounded the corner into the corridor where sickbay was located. There were several crew members lining the walls being tended by members of Dr. Cordon's medical team. Allias counted at least fourteen injured in the corridor. He made his way into sickbay where Dr. Cordon had his hands full. Members of his staff were doing the best they could to tend those who needed it. The EMH, or Emergency Medical Hologram, was also tending to the wounded. It saw Allias and approached him.
 "Please state the nature of your medical emergency," it said in it's usual mundane tone.
 "I'm okay, I just wanted to see how things are going here," Allias replied.
 "You have sustained a shoulder injury. I will need to take a look at it," the EMH said, as he scanned Allias with a medical scanner.
 "That's not really necessary," Allias said, as the EMH made his way over to Allias' side.
 "I need you to keep helping the others," Cordon said, coming up and speaking directly to the EMH. It shrugged and gave a passive look as it turned around to continue it's work. "I'm glad I only have to use it in emergencies. What can you tell me about what's going on?" Cordon asked, momentarily giving him his full attention.
 Allias didn't waste the opportunity. "We have several wounded up in Ten-Forward. Some are serious," Allias reported.
 "We're full here, I'm going to have to send a nurse and some deputized help in order to assist you," answered Cordon, "How are you set for medical supplies?"
 "We could use whatever you can spare," he replied.
 "Give me a few minutes to get some things together," Cordon said, as he moved about, starting to get supplied together.
 Allias took this opportunity to catch a quick rest. he leaned against the wall next to the EMH conduit. he thought for a moment, then he had an idea.
 "Doctor, there are holographic emitters in Ten-Forward. They are used when giving performances and presentation," he said, as he began to study the conduit controls. "What if we transferred the EMH programming to there?"
 Cordon didn't even seem to consider the idea for a second before he responded. "Forget it, the EMH is programmed to work in sickbay. This is where it's memory is kept and, even if it could be done, I need it here."
 "What if I could duplicate it's program, then send it to the emitters in Ten-Forward?" Allias shot back.
 "If you try and duplicate it's program, you may knock it off-line all together, and I can't afford to have that happen," Cordon replied sternly.
 Allias thought about it for a moment. "What about it's default chip? It contains the basic EMH program. It's all we would need to help the wounded. The EMH here should keep running without incident," Allias said with a gleam of enthusiasm in his eye, "Unless the computer goes down or there's a power failure," he quietly continued.
 Cordon responded with a questionable look that stated Mess up my EMH program and I'll mess YOU up! After he pondered for a moment and let out a sigh, he replied, "All right, get going, before I change my mind!"
 Allias gave him a thankful smile as he opened the conduit and located the chip. He carefully removed it. When it gave way, they both looked at the active EMH to see if anything would happen. It paused for just a second, as if it was pondering something, then continued as normal.
 "I'll take one nurse and the supplies you scrounged up," Allias said, as he headed toward the door. The nurse, Ensign Terry Smith, a new transfer from Starfleet Medical was close behind, carrying as many medical supply kits as she could carry.
 

 "Status," Reauwl asked, as she walked over to O'Neil's station.
 O'Neil had been working on getting the internal communications back on-line. She had made only a little progress.
 "Most of the relays are intact, Captain. Most of the damage is centered around the main computer core," she responded, "And there's something else I have found."
 Reauwl's expression turned curious. "What is it?" she asked.
 O'Neil continued to work at her console as she replied, "I've been checking the amount of damage that occurred when we took the hit from the warships. A backlash surge of energy is normal when the shields fold under heavy fire, but usually only the shield generators are effected. When we were hit, several systems that shouldn't have been effected were blown off-line."
 "So more damage occurred than should have?" Reauwl asked.
 "I believe so. I think that initial hit on our shields was timed to coincide with the detonation of an explosive device."
 Reauwl's expression changed again. "Are you saying we were sabotaged?" she asked in disbelief.
 O'Neil paused for a moment before she continued, "The explosion took out all the systems we would need to carry on the fight and stay in communication with the crew and the rest of the fleet. I have the feeling we were meant to be just disabled rather than destroyed."
 Reauwl turned and paced around for the moment. The implications of what O'Neil had just said were overwhelming, "Then that would mean the Dominion has plans for us," she reasoned, "Only question is what do they have in mind?"

   *   *   *
 

 Talia paced back and forth nervously, but she was both surprised and relieved when the familiar effect of a Dominion transporter beam materialized into the form of an Overseer and a Changeling right in front of her. She was surprised to see that they were not accompanied by a Jem 'Hadar soldier. The Overseer stepped forward.
 "Is everything in readiness?" she asked in a simple, yet serious tone.
 "Everything is done," Talia replied nervously, "I have taken care of the subject. I have her body in the next compartment."
 "Excellent, then we can proceed," the overseer replied.
 "Is my payment ready?" Talia asked.
 "Payment?" asked the Overseer, "Ah, you mean your compensation."
 Talia looked puzzled for a moment. She was suddenly becoming suspicious about what was going to happen next.
 "Please believe me when I tell you how much the Dominion appreciates your services on this mission. However, we are not in the habit of simply rewarding those who offer their services to us. We feel the fewer that know about what is going on, the better. You see, our plan will only succeed if we make sure all the loose ends are taken care of. We can't afford to have one of the Founders exposed in any way," she said, in a sly and cunning tone.
 "You see, you know too much," a voice said from behind her. it was the Founder, who took one step forward. As she did so, she changed into the familiar image of Veronica Mason. "You have become a liability."
 Talia stepped back in fear and astonishment. She had been betrayed by those who she had risked so much for. She turned around just in time to see the Overseer point a small hand-held disrupter directly at her. She didn't even have time to scream before  the agonizing effect of the weapon overwhelmed her. The Founder smiled slightly before returning her full attention to the Overseer.
 "You will need to return to the ship. I will begin my covert operation immediately."
 The Overseer paused for a moment before responding. "Founder, I would feel more secure if I knew that you had some more protection while on this mission. Please let me implore you to reconsider my offer of letting myself be altered as well, so I can be at your side," she said, almost begging.
 "I will not change my position on this matter. You will return to the ship along with the bodies of Lt. Mason and Talia. There is no more reason to discuss it," she sternly replied.
 The Overseer pondered for a brief moment, then backed away and bowed, acknowledging the Founder's orders. She placed small computer ships on the bodies and activated her communications device. "Three to transport," she said.
 Then the effect of the transporter beam overtook her and in an instant, she was gone. The Founder, or Lt. Mason, as she would be recognized as, took a quick look around, then headed out of the quarters into the corridor to begin the first phase of her mission.
 

   *   *   *
 

 Commander Reauwl tried her best to keep her mind on the matters at hand. Particularly trying to get the communications array back online. The ship was still listing slightly, so it was a bit difficult moving around. She had made some progress. She had restored partial communications with one of the ships, the Hood II, still engaged in the battle. Reauwl was able to open a channel, though it was garbled and kept fading in and out.
 "I'm still having problems receiving you, Captain Palmer. Let me see if I can increase the signal," she said, as she tried her best to squeeze more energy to the communications console. her efforts paid off. She was able to get a strong link to the Hood II.
 "That's better, Captain Reauwl," Palmer responded, "can you give me a status repost on your vessel?"
 "We have several injuries and casualties. Most of our main systems are out, but we have restored partial power to the impulse engines and helm control," she replied, "how are things going with the fleet?"
 Palmer paused for a moment before her answered. "Things do not go well. We have taken heavy losses and we are falling back to regroup. This vessel and the Andromeda will escort you back to safe space where we will be able to transport your wounded and perhaps make some temporary repairs to your vessel. We will begin escorting you out of here in one hour. Make whatever preparations you need to. Palmer, out," he said, as he ended the transmission.
 Reauwl thought for a moment, then turned to O'Neil. "Ensign, I want you to focus the rest of your attention on getting the helm controls fully back online. We are going to have some help giving the Adamant a push, but I want us to be able to steer on our own, in case one of our escorts has to break away."
 O'Neil moved down to what was left of the helm controls. There wasn't much that she could salvage. She decided to reroute helm control to the weapons console, that was, of course, if circuits weren't fried of the conduits blown. This is what you joined Starfleet for, remember? Excitement! Adventure! The Challenge! O'Neil thought to herself as she started to work on getting some of the damaged circuits reconnected. She never regretted her decision to join the service, yet it was times like these that she understood why her mother had reservations about her joining the Academy. Why don't you teach? Don't you realize the dangers out there? What if you are attacked by the Borg, or the Dominion? Why can't you just stay here? The voice of her mother filled her mind. She knew when news of the Dominion attack had reached Earth, her mother would drive everyone crazy trying to get in contact with her. What am I doing here? What was I thinking? Because you believed in yourself, she thought, AND because you felt it was your calling! She allowed herself a momentary smile of realization and then continued to work.
 

 As Allias returned to Ten-Forward with Smith, he found that the seriously injured had been moved to one central location near the platform that served for presentations and performances. Looking around for T'Hara, he saw her with her father, and her pet sitting next to an injured person. As he drew closer, he noticed it was her son. T'Hara, herself, looked very ragged.
 T'Hara saw Alexander. The weariness exuding from her. "I couldn't repair the turbo- lift. It was too badly damaged for m to work with. But we were should move some of the injured, here, to Sickbay . . . How soon can we do that?" she asked.
 "We can't," he replied, "Sickbay is overwhelmed. We're going to have to stay here for now," he answered.
 A frustrated moan escaped her lips. "And all you could bring is one nurse?" She had obviously noted that, at least, one more body was needed to help.
 "I've got a plan for that," he replied as he walked over to the power conduit on the wall next to the platform, "Just give me ten minutes. Keep helping the those who have more serious injured. Smith brought more supplies with her. Things that we needed."
 T'Hara looked at him strangely for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders slightly, returning to help some of the wounded, being too mentally exhausted to question him further.
 "Please state the nature of the medical emergency," she heard, after awhile.
  As she looked over to Allias, she saw an image. It was the Emergency Medical Hologram.
 "Nevermind, I can see what needs to be done, though this does not look like the sickbay I was programmed for."
 "Your program has been temporarily moved to Ten-Forward, since we have a large number of wounded here, that we can't move to sickbay," Allias explained.
 The EMH began to work immediately, scanning patients, as Smith joined him at his side. "Makes no difference to me," he responded, "Please have someone give shots of Torazine to those who have internal injuries using doses no stronger than ten milligrams."
 T'Hara looked at Alexander once again. But before she could say anything, he put the hypo-spray in her hand and started to walk out.
 "I need to get to Engineering and see how they are holding up," he said, as he made his exit.
 Suddenly, the EMH was at her side.
 "Are you a certified nurse?" he flatly asked.
 "No, I'm the Chief Science Officer," she replied.
 He returned her answer with a puzzled look. "Science Officer? I need someone who is educated in nursing, not stellar mechanics! But I suppose you'll have to do . . ."
 T'Hara was taken aback by the EMH's flippant attitude towards her. "I do have several degrees in medical science, as well," she replied with annoyance, "So I'm not completely untrained."
 For a moment the stared at one another.
 "Well, the patients aren't going to get any better if you just stand there," he said, in a serious tone, laced with sarcasm, "please begin treating the patients. I will be joining you in a few moments."
 "As you wish, your majesty," she replied, with equal sarcasm.
 For a second, he stopped what he was doing and stared at her, perplexed, not comprehending why she had responded to him so.
 As she, again, returned to helping the wounded, she thought about this holo- annoyance. He may have an important function, but this was not a good day to mess with her. Just you wait, Alex. I'll get you for stranding me here with the most obnoxious program ever created! she thought to herself, relishing how sweet her revenge was going to be.
 As the EMH finally joined her, she actually smiled. "Doctor, has anyone ever talked to you about broadening your horizons?"
 "What?" he asked.
 

 "Do we have power back online for the impulse engines?" Campbell asked as she studied the console in front of her. She knew that someone on the bridge was working to restore power, not only to the engines, but to the helm controls as well. Campbell was doing her best to help them as much as possible. "Get the anti-matter flow regulators adjusted as best ye can," she added, as she entered more calculations into the console.
 Engineering took relatively minor damage, since the main force of the explosion had occurred near the ship's memory core, located on the other side of the ship, four decks below. The main force of the blast went up the main turbo shaft, blowing several of the doors on each deck. Fortunately, there was no one in the turbo-lift when it was vaporized. There were some injuries, but for the most part engineering was intact. Several systems went off-line and circuits were blown, but for the most part, it was just a matter of getting consoles and panels operating again.
 Campbell turned around from her console and was surprised to see Allias walking into Engineering.
 "Well, looks like you didn't get it as bad as some of the other places around here," he said as he walked up to Campbell, who didn't look like she was in the mood for light humor.
 "Looks can be deceiving, Commander," she said, flatly, "It's no fun tryin' to operate with almost no power and have consoles and conduits that are useless . . . Have ye heard from the bridge at all? Someone's been tryin' to bring back helm control."
 "I would expect that would be Reauwl and O'Neil. T'Hara and I made our way to Ten- Forward, then I went to sickbay. There are several injured and dead," he answered. "We have two injured here; Ensign Patterson and Lt. Williams both suffered minor injuries when a conduit next to their work station shorted out. The rest of us were just shaken a little by what happened. Do we have any idea of what the extent of damage to the ship is yet?" Campbell asked.
 "We won't know more until the internal sensors come back online. We . . ."
 "Mr. Allias . . . ?" the familiar voice of Commander Reauwl questioned over his comm badge. The signal was weak and there was static, but it seemed that she had some success in reestablishing the internal communications system.
 Allias tapped his badge in response. "Allias here. Your signal is weak, I can barely make you out."
 More static followed, then Reauwl's voice came through, a bit clearer this time. "Glad to see you are still alive. We have no idea of what is going on around the ship. Give me a status report."
 "We have several injured and dead throughout the ship. T'Hara is in Ten-Forward helping the EMH with the injured, Dr. Cordon is swamped in sickbay and I just made it down to Engineering. Campbell and her staff are trying to reroute power to some of the different subsystems that weren't damaged and she has been helping you restore helm control and power to the impulse engines," he replied.
 "What is the EMH doing in Ten-Forward?" Reauwl asked.
 "It's a long story, but I'll explain when we get things back in order around here," he responded.
 "We are going to be assisted back to the Federation boarder with the help of the Hood II and the Andromeda. We will be underway in ten minutes. The Hood II will help tow us if needed and the Andromeda will act as our defense. We will be transporting the wounded off the Adamant once we return to Federation space. With some luck, we will be able to initiate some repairs as well," Reauwl said.
 "I'll do what I can in coordinating with the others to help get things ready," Allias answered.
 "Good, I don't know how long these com links will last, but report to me every thirty minutes. Reauwl out," she said as she closed the communication link.
 Campbell walked back over to Allias. "Impulse power restored and we have partial helm control. We should be able to limp back to Federation space, as long as we don't hit too many bumps along the way."
 "Good, then let's get what other systems we can try and fix to make the journey a little easier," he replied.
 "I'll have me staff help ye," she answered. She turned and scanned Engineering for a moment, then spotted who she wanted to help him. "Lieutenant?" she called, getting the young woman's attention, "I want you to assist the Commander, here, with whatever he needs."
 The young woman walked over to them and smiled. "Certainly, I will do whatever is necessary."
 "Then I will leave ye two to get goin'," Campbell said as she walked away.
 Allias paused for a moment. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Commander Alexander Allias; temporary First Officer."
 "Lt. Veronica Mason," the young lady said as she nodded slightly.
 "Well, Lt. Mason," Allias said, "Let's get to work."
 He started to walk toward one of the main power conduits; Lt. Mason only a step behind. She smiled slightly as she realized the deception was in place and working well. These humans are so easily deceived. the Founder thought to herself, Conquering them shouldn't be difficult. It will just take time.
 

 As the hours ticked away, the ship slowly regained several of its necessary functions. Eventually, all communications had been repaired, along with the turbo-lifts, so the injured in Ten-Forward could be taken to sickbay or transported off the ship. T'Hara was just relieved that she had her family, and that they were safe. Christopher, outside of having a few bruises, a mild concussion, and minor lacerations was no worse for the wear.
 Eventually, T'Hara did get her exam, and even her child-to-be was well, and as strong as ever. But Mathew was concerned by a few contractions that had happened during the exam, and put her on leave for a few days. T'Hara, though wanting to turn it down, knew she needed the rest. So she decided that she would spent the time with her family . . . The only family still aboard the Adamant . . . Maybe they would even use one of the holodecks, she thought, if they were undamaged . . . It was time to relax and unwind.
 

Acting Captain's Log
Stardate: 9709.02

It has been one week since we were pulled away from the fighting between the Federation and the Dominion forces. The war does not go well for the Federation or the Klingon Empire. Casualties on both sides have been heavy and the number of lost ships is staggering. The Adamant is temporary dry-dock getting whatever immediate repairs are needed. All non-essential personnel are being temporarily transported off the ship to safety areas behind the Federation side of the new DMZ established between the Federation and Dominion space. An investigation into the explosion that disabled the Adamant has turned up little, except we now know it was definitely an act of espionage on behalf of a spy or traitor. The crew has been under constant interrogation and scrutiny since our arrival here, but the investigation is going nowhere and more effort is being made in getting the Adamant ready to return to service. On a strange note, earlier this week I was notified that my posting as temporary Senior Commanding Officer aboard the Adamant will continue for the time being as well that of having Commander Allias remain as First Officer. He was promoted three days ago to the rank of Commander, a position he was not expecting. Command seems to fit him well, but he's just getting his feet wet. The fate of Captain Rayn is still uncertain at this time. As for how long this battle may last, it is unknown. We are due to leave dry dock in two days and rejoin other vessels on patrol around the DMZ. Until then, the crew is going through shakedowns and reassignments. I can only hope that this conflict will soon be coming to an end.

Commander Reauwl, Commanding Officer, USS Adamant, signing off.

 "I believe that is everybody, Commander," Ensign Todd said as the last crew member boarded the shuttle. The last of the crew transfers was ready to leave, heading towards Starbase 1, in orbit above Earth for reassignment and new postings.
 "Excellent, tell them they will be departing in five minutes," Allias responded. he looked inside the shuttle and saw some of the twenty-eight crew getting ready to depart. Among them was Lt. Mason, who had helped him get the internal sensors back online. She was very smart and attentive. She would make a fine Chief Engineer someday. Little did he know who she really was or what her plans were. It would not be long before both he and the rest of the Federation would find out.
 

 After T'Hara returned to duty, she again began having lunch with Allias. She had always enjoyed their talks. but she had a feeling today was going to be particularly interesting.
 "Did you get the new specs on the weapons array?" T'Hara asked Allias, as she ate her grilled chicken sandwich.
 Allias swallowed his food before he answered. "Yeah, I see we now have thermal resonant capacitors added to the phaser arrays. I guess that will give us a harder punch," he said, as he took another bite of the roasted chicken breast. he was just about to elaborate when his comm badge chirped.
 "Cordon to Commander Allias," said the familiar voice was the doctor.
 "Allias here," Alexander responded.
 "Could you please come to sickbay? I am in need of your assistance immediately."
 Allias and T'Hara exchanged puzzled looks. Then Allias excused himself from he table.
 "I'll join you," she said, as she walked out of the mess hall with him.
 Upon there arrival, they found two images of the EMH arguing with each other about different forms of medical treatments. Dr. Cordon was sitting in his chair watching them argue with weary annoyance. As he saw the two officers enter, he stood and walked over to them. It was very easy to see that he was not in a good mood.
 "See this?" he asked, pointing towards the bickering holograms. "This has been going on since you brought back the programming chip you borrowed and installed in Ten- Forward. Each time I bring up the EMH for a diagnostic, they both show up and argue about everything from the common cold to way to treat hives!" His tone reflected his frustration. "I want this stopped! The EMH computer now thinks we want two assistants rather than one, so their programs have become equal and unique. I didn't think that they had the ability to develop personalities," he continued.
 "Why not pull the plug, or re-boot the system?" asked T'Hara.
 "If we did either of those, we would run the risk of losing both of them altogether and have to start from scratch," Allias responded, "I wouldn't recommend it."
 Cordon turned abruptly to face Allias. "Well, then you are going to have to fix this. I had a feeling when you left here with the default chip that something would go wrong . . . Now I expect to have the EMH in proper working order before we leave dry dock, is that understood, Commander?" Cordon said sternly.
 Allias understood his anger and frustration. "Understood, Doctor."
 Cordon turned and walked into his office briskly, while T'Hara patted Alex on the shoulder. "Turn around i fair play, eh, Commander?" she said in a slightly devilish tone, raising her eyebrows once for effect.
 "What do you mean?" he asked.
 "Ohhhh, I think you'll understand soon enough," she replied a wicked grin as she exited sickbay.
 Allias turned to face the bickering holograms. They were in the middle of a heated debate.
 "How can you be so ridiculous? What would ever make you think that a Klingon could take a dose of eighteen milligrams of thiortizied? It would kill him!"
 "Nonsense! According to recorded medical data, there have been no lasting side effects, so a dosage of thiortizied that size could be used as a treatment for B'Har-Tulan Syndrome! Why don't you just admit you're afraid to realize our programming is limited. I say we try and go beyond the boundaries of our parameters!"
 "We're not programmed for that, and besides, we are here as an aide to the doctor, not as loose cannons. After all, we're holograms, not adventurers."
 Allias sighed heavily, because now he knew what T'Hara had meant. Oh brother, and just where am I suppose to begin?  He thought to himself.
 

 Three months later, Lt. Veronica Mason made her way down the sidewalks and streets of the city known as Boston, heading for her rendezvous with some of the other disguised Founders stationed on Earth. As she walked the wide streets where motorized vehicles once traveled, she was amazed at how the humans felt the need to hold onto the past. Most of the city was leveled during World War III, but had been completely restored to its original for in the years preceding that war. The streets now served as large walkways where merchants could set up carts to sell their wares, or one could sit and leisurely gather with others. The Earth of today was regarded as Paradise, where anyone could live in peace and harmony. No hunger, greed, pestilence, sickness, selfishness or poverty. These people had become soft, feasting on the fruits of idleness for too long.
 How weak they are, the Founder thought to herself, When our forces reach here, this entire planet will take no longer than two days to conquer. They would rather surrender and save their precious buildings, monuments and symbolic artifacts than risk having them damaged in a conflict. How pathetic.
 She turned down Orchard street and walked until she came to the residence marked Ambrosia Place. She walked up and rang the doorbell. An old woman answered the door and let her in.
 "Could please inform Dr. Ambrosia that Lt. Mason is here? I have an appointment at thirteen-hundred-hours," the young Starfleet Officer asked.
 "You may go right on in, dear," the old woman replied, "He's been expecting you. You just go down the stairs and his office is the first door on the right."
 "Thank you," Mason replied with a smile as she started down the stairs. When she reached the door, she knocked gently. the door opened a moment later and an older gentleman greeted her.
 "Lieutenant!" he said in an exaggerated tone, "Please, do come in."
 She brushed by him and then he closed the door. Immediately, Mason reached out her left arm and merged it with the extended right arm of the doctor. They had linked to each other, now their thoughts were shared with each other.
 You are the last to arrive, the others are waiting. I can tell from our link that you have news for us. Come, let us join the others, he said in his thoughts.
 They walked through the entry way and into the library. he activated a small hidden device under the corner of a table. it activated a hidden panel behind one of the bookcases. When they walked through, the door closed behind them. They were now in a large room that at one time must have been served as a recreational center of some kind. The room  was dimly lit and was clean, though it did not look like it had been used in many years. Built into the ground was a large basin. In front of it was a message built into the mosaic title that was ornamented around the edge of the basin. The message said: No Diving At This End. In the basin, itself, was the familiar oozing mass, she recognized as a small part of the Great Link. From the size of the flowing mass, she could tell there were at least a dozen Changelings incorporated together. Both, she and the doctor stepped up to the edge and waded into the mass, loosing the familiar forms they had been holding. She was filled with joy as she once again joined the link. She was, to some extent, back home on the Founders home world.
 We welcome you, Janara. We have been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Share your knowledge with us.
 Janara let her thoughts merge with those of the link. There was a momentary pause, then the collective voices returned, Excellent work. You have done well. From what you have learned and shared with us, all will soon be ready for the next phase of our plan. You will return to your regular duties as Lt. Mason until we are ready to execute the final phase of our operation. We will not rejoin together until after the success of our mission is assured. it is time for us to break our link and continue our work.
 With the link now broken, the mass in the pool began to pull apart into several globules of matter. Each of which started to take on a form of it's own. A few moments later, the pool was empty and now there were twelve individuals of varying races and genders surrounding its parameter. Other then Janara, there were six others in Starfleet uniforms, one of which was an Admiral. The rest were a mixture of merchants, tradesmen and diplomats. They left silently, though different hidden passage ways and exits. Their plan was going well. No matter what the outcome of the war between the Dominion and the Federation, which could be regarded as the most elaborate distraction ever created, the Founders true plan would bring the Federation to it's knees. Then those who had signed the non-aggression pacts would be next to fall. Cardassia, Romulus, Bajor and all the others would soon be under the Dominion's complete control. The Alpha Quadrant would be
entirely theirs.