(I'll Be) The Only Thing Between You and the Stars at Night 4/9

[moku_youbi]

Λ

Brendon hadn’t answered any of the waves Jon had sent him, and then Spencer had called him at 0900 hours when he should have been asleep, but had been kept awake by anxiety. Spencer waved Jon back to explain that Brendon hadn’t shown up for duty and his quarters had been checked and there was no sign of him, and when the computer had been asked, it had revealed that Brendon wasn’t even on DS9 anymore.

Apparently, Brendon’s family were bigwigs in the Federation, because a wave to them had been answered immediately, insisting that Brendon wouldn’t just up and leave without a damn good reason and certainly not without telling his commanding officer. A brief conversation between Sisko, Kira and Odo, and the Uries, led to Brendon’s disappearance being officially termed “missing due to foul play.”

“And Ryan was the last one to see him,” Spencer said, voice hushed. They’d met in an empty section of the outer ring on his lunch break. Spencer kept whispering, worried that someone was listening. Given that Spencer’s boss could shape-shift into virtually anything, he felt it wasn’t him being paranoid.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Jon muttered. “If Ryan knew anything that might help, he’d have said it hours ago.”

Spencer made a small noise. “You don’t get it. Ryan hates the Federation. And everyone on this station knows it. He writes all about it all the time in his articles.”

“Yeah, but,” Jon started, “I mean, he’s Ryan. He wouldn’t-”

“He’s gotten into three fights with Starfleet officers in the last year and a half. The last time he broke a guy’s nose for wearing a Bajoran earring. He was in the brig for a month.”

Spencer’s face narrowed, because he knew if he didn’t he might do something embarrassing, like cry. Jon touched him lightly, first on the elbow, and when Spencer didn’t jerk away, he pulled him into a gentle hug. Spencer didn’t usually hug people other than his mother, and sometimes Ryan, but Jon’s arms felt good around him. Spencer was taller, but he folded himself up against Jon like he was something small.

“It’s okay. We’re the only ones who know, right?” Jon asked. Spencer nodded into his shoulder. “And we know Ryan doesn’t know what happened to him. So it won’t hurt Brendon if we don’t tell anyone. We’ll figure out something else.”

Spencer didn’t like lying to Constable Odo. Most of the time Odo was just as willing to look the other way as Spencer was about some of the low-key smuggling that went on under their noses. But a missing Federation officer was a big deal. Like Spencer didn’t know that, because it was Brendon, but still. Spencer felt like he was lying by omission.

Brent, Spencer and Laliya had been assigned to questioning potential witnesses. Anyone who came into the security office with information was assigned to one of them. Spencer forced himself not to be distracted by his concern over Ryan, because one of these people might have actually seen something that would help him find Brendon.

At 1900 hours, Spencer was supposed to be off the clock, but everyone was working overtime on Brendon’s disappearance. Laliya had been taken off the case to investigate an unscheduled arrival of a Gamma quadrant ship on the docking ring. The number of witnesses was dwindling, and Spencer was hoping he might be able to get a break to talk to Ryan when Brent finished his most recent interview.

There was a look on Brent’s face with which Spencer was unfamiliar. Brent was a pretty simple guy-he was usually either happy or angry, but he had this uncertain, almost conflicted expression. “What is it?” Spencer asked, the bottom falling out of his stomach.

“That shop owner. She had a shop across from Ryan’s. She said she was locking up her store at the same time as Ryan last night and saw him arguing with a Starfleet officer. Said she didn’t think anything about it until she saw the alert.” Brent sat on the edge of Spencer’s desk, leaning close to tell him. Leaving it up to Spencer, he realised, whether or not to say anything. “She saw a picture of Urie and said it was him that Ryan was arguing with.”

That power was taken before it had really been given, when Constable Odo came into the office, leading Ryan by a hand on his elbow. “I’m sorry to have to do this, Smith, Wilson,” Odo said, voice gravely, “but I’m going to have to ask you to sit this case out, until we’ve ruled out Mister Ross’ involvement.”

Ryan met Spencer’s gaze. “Let me stay,” Spencer said. “I won’t say anything, please, Odo.”

Odo gave him a long, searching glance, the sort that usually made Spencer squirm, but he forced himself to stay still, look worthy. Finally, Odo made a grumbling sound and nodded his head. “Not a word out of you, though.”

The three of them went into Odo’s office, but Odo didn’t begin the questioning until Commander Sisko arrived. Spencer didn’t really deal with Sisko directly very often and he’d always thought the guy was alright. Emissary or not, he cared about the Bajorans, which was more than Spencer could stay for a lot of Starfleet. But now Sisko just looked forbidding.

“Mister Ross,” Odo said, “Can you please explain the nature of the argument you had with Ensign Urie yesterday evening?”

Ryan didn’t look unduly concerned at being interrogated, but Spencer knew better than that. Still, Ryan pressed his lips together briefly, and said, “He’d come to look at my wares. I explained that Starfleet officers were not welcome in my shop. We both left and as I was locking up when he grabbed my wrist. I shouted for him to not touch me. He left. That was the last I saw him.”

“I’m afraid that’s the last anyone saw him,” Odo remarked.

Ryan shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s too bad. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Ryan,” Spencer said pleadingly. Odo shot him a warning look, but didn’t say anything.

“Some of the other science officers mentioned that Ensign Urie had been spending time with you.” Odo looked at Spencer here, and Spencer suddenly wondered just why he’d been allowed to stay.

“Ryan,” Sisko said, and he had this way of sounding gentle, even though he looked big and intimidating. “We’re not making any accusations. We just want Ensign Urie back safely.”

“I do too!” Ryan burst out, and looked surprised to have said it. Odo and Sisko looked surprised, as well. “Look, Brendon and I had a stupid fight, but I didn’t mean it, and I just want…” He stopped and composed himself, sat up straighter. Then he said, more calmly, “I didn’t mean it.”

Odo cleared his throat. “I’m afraid, Mister Ross, that you are currently our only suspect, and that your track record with the Federation is less than stellar.”

“He didn’t,” Spencer interrupted, and that got Sisko looking at him, too, but only out of curiosity. “Brendon is our friend,” he said.

“Friend,” Odo echoed, as if the word was foreign to him. Spencer couldn’t blame him. Ryan’s hatred of all things Federation wasn’t exactly a secret to anyone.

“I’m afraid,” Sisko interjected, “that the Admirals Urie are quite influential. As soon as they’d heard there was a suspect, they pulled some strings and had it arranged to get you out of Bajoran custody and into Federation custody. I managed to convince them to allow you to stay in your quarters under Federation watch.”

Ryan didn’t say anything, but Spencer knew how it rubbed him to have a member of the Federation telling him what to do. But Ryan just looked at his feet and said, in a defeated voice, “Okay.”

Perhaps it was out of pity, and Spencer didn’t really care, but Sisko arranged with the Federation guard so that Spencer could come and go from Ryan’s quarters without interference. Spencer wanted to protest that it was stupid, because he knew Ryan hadn’t done anything, which meant that Brendon was still missing and there wasn’t a clue as to what had happened to him. But he knew they were lucky Ryan wasn’t being thrown in the brig, and Odo and Sisko were being reasonable.

“As soon as I’m off,” Spencer said, when they were about to lead Ryan back to his quarters. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m off.”

“What if I…” Ryan began and trailed off, looking miserable. “What if because of me…” He shook his head.

“Got a pretty high opinion of yourself,” Spencer drawled. Ryan gave him a bleak smile. “Ryan, we’ll figure it out,” he promised.

Laliya came back after Ryan had gone and she didn’t say anything, but Spencer could tell from the expression on her face that she knew what had happened in her absence. They didn’t know each other very well, but when she began to tell him about the crew that had landed, Spencer realised she was trying to distract him.

“Their captain-Frank, which, I mean, weird name anyway-but their captain, he’s Wadi. It totally works on him. I mean, he’s covered in tattoos, so the markings on his face just seem to fit, you know?” Laliya tended to think that any aliens visibly different from Bajorans looked weird, particularly those with markings, like the Trill or Wadi.

“Anyway, it is the weirdest crew. They just came out of the Gamma quadrant, but they’ve got two Romulans, and their XO is Klingon.”

“What were they doing in the Gamma quadrant?” Spencer asked, looking at her data pad on the ship, the Helena. It was Beta quadrant in design, but it had never been granted permission to pass through the wormhole from the Bajoran side, which would seem to indicate the crew had found another way into the Gamma quadrant.

“I know, weird, right?” Laliya said. “That’s why Sisko wanted an investigation. They said a friend gave them a ride, whatever that means. I didn’t hold them-they let us search the ship without a fight and they answered all our questions-it seems their captain just wanted to play some games-you know how the Wadi are-and he’d heard that Quark’s was the place to go.” She laughed a little. “Can you believe it?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Spencer remarked, and tried to smile.

Laliya put a hand on his shoulder, but she didn’t try to offer him comfort or reassurance. Spencer was thankful for that. He wasn’t ready to break down yet. He had to find Brendon and he had to get the Federation off Ryan’s back. He couldn’t afford to be anything other than calm and level-headed.

M

Most of the crew spent their time in the mess hall or on the bridge, with the exception of Nate, who was, like, married to the warp core. Alex basically checked in at the helm every hour or so to make sure the course he’d plotted wasn’t leading them into a star, or something, but other than that, none of them had anything better to do, so they sat around the big, round table in the mess and played card games.

Brendon was surprised at how readily they’d let him join, even if Victoria did keep giving him scary looks. “She’s Taresian,” Alex said, like that explained everything. Brendon had never even heard of that species.

At Brendon’s blank look, Gabe said, “The Taresian population is 90% female, so in order to mate, the women infect men of other species with this retro-virus that converts their alien DNA into Taresian DNA. Then, like, three Taresian women marry him and sex him up hard.” Gabe wriggled his brows and licked his lips.

“You’re going to give Ryland nightmares,” Alex said blandly. Personally, Brendon couldn’t see what was so bad about getting sexed up by three different women. Well, okay, maybe he had three different men in mind, but whatever.

“And then,” Gabe went on, undeterred by the scowl Alex was giving him, “then when they’ve sucked him dry of all that new DNA and he looks like a shrivelled up old skin, they just leave him for dead.”

Suddenly, Brendon got Ryland’s nightmares. Also, if possible, Victoria was more terrifying than she had been before. She gave him what he supposed would have been a pretty damn seductive look, if Brendon hadn’t just learned about her mating habits.

“But don’t worry,” Gabe went on. “Our Vicky’s already taken. And even if she wasn’t, she’s pretty good about not killing the guys she bones. At least, not by sucking their DNA.”

Brendon was pretty sure he was never, ever having sex again. Which was a shame, because he had some pretty awesome candidates lined up for the job.

The day slipped by pretty quickly, and at around 1900, Nate whipped them up a meal from his native planet that was amazing. Nate was apparently a gourmet, and the crew usually bribed him into cooking dinner. Brendon had trouble enjoying the meal, though, because thinking about what must be going on at the station made him anxious and antsy. Even if no one had noticed him missing at first, almost an entire day had passed.

He wondered what Dax must have thought when he hadn’t shown up for his shift-had she thought he was lazy, or had she been worried? Did she report him right away, or was she trying to give him a chance? Did anyone tell Spencer and Ryan and Jon, or did they not even know? Did they think he was avoiding them because of what had happened with Ryan? Did anyone even know the Cobra had docked at the station? Did they think he’d run away, that the stress of being a Starfleet officer was too much?

Questions swirled around in his head and made him sick to his stomach. Everyone else headed to the holodeck and it struck Brendon that despite the fact that they’d been pretty decent to him, these were still his kidnappers he was hanging out with, and he wasn’t some goddamned damsel in distress. He was a Starfleet officer for fuck’s sake. He was going to act like it.

Before he could act, he had to do a little research on the ship, and he had to figure out the warp signature so any rescue attempt could locate him. Nate was still in engineering when Brendon came in, but he was just about to head to the holodeck.

“Hey, coming to the party?” he asked in a companionable way. Really, these people were weirdly nice for kidnappers. It made Brendon nervous.

“I’m not feeling so hot,” Brendon lied. Well, not lied. Just, misled. “But I was curious. Earlier, when he was giving me the tour, Ryland said something about an alternate source of energy. That you used something other than dilithium crystals?”

“Oh.” Nate shrugged. “Yeah, something Pete came up with. Guy’s a genius.” Nate waved him over toward the warp core, and as he got closer, Brendon noticed that the swirling patterns within weren’t gas. In fact, they looked like…

“Are those noodles?” Brendon asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

Nate nodded and smirked. “Ramen, to be precise.”

“You can’t fuel a starship on Ramen noodles,” Brendon pointed out, matter of fact.

“Okay,” Nate said affably.

“No,” Brendon said. “No, you really, really can’t.”

“Okay,” Nate repeated and put his hands in his pocket. “Forgive the ship if it doesn’t stop running just ‘cause you say so.”

“But-” Brendon sputtered, but didn’t have anything intelligent to say to that. Nate just patted him on the shoulder on his way out of engineering.

Brendon went back to his borrowed quarters twenty minutes later after all of his poking around in engineering told him, conclusively, that the ship was fuelled by Ramen. How, he had yet to determine, but there was no alternate source of energy on the ship, no sign of the regular nuclear reactor or dilithium.

The computer didn’t have a password-either the crew of the Cobra was remarkably trusting, remarkably stupid, or remarkably absent-minded. Perhaps some combination of the three. There were several files left open on the screen-something about Risa, warp emissions, and a memo from Wentz, P., that read “remember, I like them in green” and a memo from Stump, P., that read “guys, seriously, can we do this without breaking 37 intergalactic laws this time?”

All this left Brendon with a weird feeling of unease. He poked around a little to see if he couldn’t find the list of things that Admiral Pete had requested of the Cobra, but the computer was really disorganised. He went back to the task at hand.

Maybe computers weren’t Brendon’s focus, but he was good with them-he always had been. Professor Driver said it was like he could speak to them, coax them into doing what he wanted. The computer of the Cobra was no exception. He managed to bypass the security mainframe and open a communication channel. Unfortunately, when he searched for a Federation signature towards which to send his message, there were none in range.

It was a long shot, he knew, but it was all he had. He programmed the message to cycle through every twenty-minutes on a frequency that wouldn’t be detected by the Cobra. That meant whoever found it would have to be looking for it, but it also meant Ryland wouldn’t see it right away and destroy it. It also meant it would take a while to degrade entirely.

He spoke into the comm. link, “This is Ensign Brendon Urie of the Federation outpost Deep Space Nine. I am currently being held on the starship Cobra. They have a unique warp signature, which I am including with this communication. It should make tracking the Cobra fairly simple.

“Their current trajectory is leading toward the Filina system, but I’m not certain what their final destination is. I will attempt to send further communications, however, I cannot guarantee I won’t be observed doing so. If you receive this, I can be reached by tracing this signature and responding on frequency 174.35.”

Brendon sent the message and sat for several minutes at the desk. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn’t help but hope for a response. When it became clear one wasn’t coming, he triple checked that any responses would bi-pass Ryland’s console and come directly to this one. Then he made sure that it would be silent and hidden, retrievable only at a voice command from Brendon himself.

It was hard just to wait. Brendon’s mother had often despaired at his level of energy and was forever signing him up for after school activities that would wear him out. At the Academy he’d been involved in three different sports on top of all the extra coursework required to graduate a year early.

He paced the length of the quarters back and forth for over an hour, took a shower, tried to read three different books and was bored by all of them. Finally, he gave in to the siren call of the holodeck. It had been programmed to look like a slightly claustrophobic basement-stone walls and floors, dim neon lights and the cool that permeated the stone fighting the oppressive heat conjured by lots of barely clad bodies dancing close together.

There was a DJ’s booth in the back, playing lively, fun music, but it sounded an awful lot like the stuff The Academy had played. Brendon had liked that music, too, but it didn’t make it any less odd that these aliens were playing a lot of Earth music.

Dozens of people were packed into the room, writhing and sweating, despite the fact that Brendon knew them to be nothing more than holograms. Brendon pushed through them, and he couldn’t help but feel like it was a betrayal-of The Academy, of Starfleet, of Jon and Ryan and Spencer-like he was fraternising with the enemy.

But Gabe welcomed him with bright eyes and an easy smile. Victoria and Alex danced pressed along Brendon’s back and front and Nate kept bringing him these awesome mixed drinks that were even stronger than the ones The Academy had served, and before long, Brendon forgot to feel guilty.

Much, much later, Brendon collapsed on one of the sofas that lined the back wall. Hey Mister DJ, the voice sang from the speakers, you gotta put a record on, yeah. Brendon couldn’t help but bob his head and tap his toe along to the beat. Ryland came over to sit next to him, handing him a drink.

“You know,” Brendon commented, trying to sound casual about it, “The Academy played this same song at a party of theirs.”

Ryland just arched a brow, but Brendon took that as a cue to continue. “And I think the Butcher might be from the same planet as Nate, and the Butcher said he was from the Delta quadrant.”

“What are you aiming at?” Ryland asked. And that brought up another question. His British accent. Brendon pointed it out, and Ryland laughed, head tossed back. It was a fake, pretentious sound and it made Brendon laugh along.

“It’s better if you don’t think about it,” Alex told him later, sincerely. And then proceeded to get Brendon really wasted, until he couldn’t think about anything.

N

Jon was trying not to panic. He didn’t panic. He was the guy who never panicked. He always convinced everyone else to remain calm and more often than not, he was the one who fixed the problem. Even if he couldn’t fix the problem, he could always find someone who could. It had worked so far.

Spencer was searching through legal means, so it was up to Jon to go through less than legal channels in search of information. It wasn’t anything new, and besides, he probably looked more trustworthy than Spencer, what with not being in a uniform.

He’d talked to a Ferengi who’d talked to a Bothian who’d talked to a Human who knew a Romulan who’d heard that a ship from the Gamma Quadrant had docked briefly on the ring the night of Brendon’s disappearance. They’d docked on the station before and had all the proper paperwork and they’d just needed to purchase a few supplies. It was no more suspicious than any of the other ships that’d docked and gone since Brendon’s disappearance, but the fact that so many people were whispering about it made Jon curious. A Bajoran would meet him at Quark’s with more information.

Quark’s was busier than usual for a weekday afternoon, and it was soon explained to him that a Wadi by the name of Frank had come in, looking for a challenge. Quark hadn’t been too pleased with it, but a lot of people on the station had heard how the Wadi had the best games and had come to see if it was true.

People were a little nervous about the fact that Frank’s crew consisted of a couple Romulan and Klingon members. Jon didn’t usually care about that and watched with vague interest as they played across the expanse of the bar. If he hadn’t been so worried about Brendon, it might have been neat to join them.

“You Jon?” A Bajoran appeared at his elbow, sliding neatly into the vacant seat beside him. Jon nodded carefully. The Bajoran ordered a drink from the waitress and Jon waited until it had been delivered and no one was near to speak.

“You know about the ship that docked here last night?” Jon asked.

“The captain’s a wild card,” the Bajoran explained. “Rumour has it that he works for a smuggling ring run out of the Gamma quadrant, the Decaydance Corporation.” He passed a data pad to Jon. “Look at it later,” he said, sidelong.

Jon had never heard of it, but he didn’t want to admit as much. “This ship. What’s it called?”

“The Cobra.”

Jon sent a message to Spencer immediately, saying they had to talk, and sent a wave to The Academy. He was hurrying down the corridor towards Ryan’s section of the habitat ring when a voice stopped him.

“You’re looking for the Cobra?” The man was taller than Jon with a messy tangle of black hair falling to his shoulders, mostly obscuring his face.

“You know something about it?” Jon asked. He kept the suspicion out of his face and voice and walked closer. The man met him halfway.

“Gerard,” he said, and flashed Jon a grin and the Vulcan sign for long life and prosperity. Jon found it charming, so he gave his name in turn. “I heard a Starfleet officer went missing yesterday.”

Jon nodded, waiting. “And you think it had something to do with the Cobra?” Gerard pursued.

“Maybe,” Jon allowed.

“You friends with this officer?” Gerard asked. He pushed back his hair from his face, revealing an impish smile and nice eyes before the hair fell right back in place again.

“Yeah,” Jon answered.

Gerard nodded. “I think I can help you. Our ship is docked at 39. Meet me there at 2200?”

Jon wasn’t sure why he agreed, but something about Gerard seemed trustworthy, and if it meant getting Brendon back, he was willing to go out on a limb. He hurried on to Ryan’s quarters. The Starfleet guard looked suspicious, but he called Spencer and when Spencer vouched for him, the guard waved Jon through.

Ryan looked miserable, pacing the floor, dark circles under his eyes, hair limp. Somehow he seemed smaller than usual, maybe because he was dressed in all black. Equally worn looking was Spencer, though he was seated at the window, going through a pile of data pads.

“What was your message about?” Spencer asked.

Jon explained about the Cobra docking at DS9, watching as Spencer and Ryan’s eyes went wide with wonder. “I thought it was some sort of joke,” Ryan protested. Jon had, too.

“There’s this ship, the Helena, docked at 39. One of their crewmembers said he’s familiar with the Cobra and he wants to talk to me tonight.”

“I’m going with you,” Spencer said, and it wasn’t like Jon was going to argue with him anyway, but Spencer had his arms crossed and his face set like nothing could deter him.

“I want to go, too,” Ryan said. Jon and Spencer gave him matching looks. “You guys, whatever happened to Brendon, I can’t let the last thing I…” he trailed off.

“We’ll keep a comm. link open,” Spencer promised. “You’ll hear everything.”

They were greeted by a tall, skinny guy in thick glasses, with hair shorter and messier and blonder than Gerard’s, but who bore him a passing resemblance. “You Jon?” he asked and when Jon nodded, the guy tossed his head toward the airlock.

The corridor of the ship was lined in multi-coloured twinkle lights. The guy led them to a mess hall that looked like it had been put together from materials and furniture from a dozen different worlds. The same could be said for the people sitting around the table.

There was Gerard, who waved at them in greeting. “You’ve met Mikey, our engineer and my little brother. This is his wife Alicia, our comm. officer.” A Romulan woman smiled at them. “Our captain, Frank.” The Wadi, every bare bit of skin painted in tattoos, bounced in his seat and said, “hi!” “Bob, our pilot.” Another Romulan grunted and nodded his head. “And Ray, our executive officer.” A Klingon with black eyes and soft ridges that suggested he might only be half Klingon, smiled in welcome.

“This is Spencer.” Spencer ducked his head in what might have been taken to be a nervous gesture, but Jon saw the way Spencer was drinking everything in, always the security officer. “And I’m Jon.”

“And your friend who is listening in on us?” Ray asked. His voice was surprisingly high, and that, coupled with his pleasant demeanour was just weird for a Klingon.

Also, how did he know they had someone listening? Jon looked at Spencer for a cue on what to do, but Gerard took pity on them. “Ray is half-Betazoid.” Jon was certain he’d heard of stranger crossbreeds, but he couldn’t think of any at the moment.

“I’m Ryan,” Ryan said over the comm. link.

“And you believe your friend has been taken by the Cobra?” Frank asked.

“It has to be,” Gerard said, face expressive. “We got the same list they did.”

“List?” Spencer echoed.

“Pete,” said Alicia, in an exasperated sort of way, as if the name somehow explained everything.

“Though some of us like willing participants. Honestly. Didn’t Gabe get Patrick’s memo?” Gerard said. Jon felt that, despite the extenuating circumstances of Brendon’s kidnapping, he was glad to have met Gerard. It didn’t, however, alleviate his confusion.

“Who are Pete and Gabe and Patrick?” Ryan snapped. Jon could tell it drove him crazy, being forced to just listen from his quarters.

“Gabe’s the one who’s got your friend,” Bob explained. “And Pete is the reason why he has your friend.”

“So, wait, you know these people?” Spencer demanded. “So can’t you just wave them and tell them we want our friend back?”

Frank looked at Gerard. “Well, I mean, it isn’t that simple.”

“Gabe is after this other ship, The Academy,” Gerard said.

“We know The Academy,” Jon said and he could tell from the way Spencer shifted next to him that Spencer didn’t approve of this free flow of information. Whatever. Gerard had offered to help them when he hadn’t had to, which was good enough for Jon.

“Yes,” Gerard agreed. “Mikey managed to get a track on their warp emission. We knew that meant the Cobra would follow close behind. Gabe is after William.” He pronounced this as though it was something dire, but he and Frank shared a look and rolled their eyes.

“I still don’t understand why you can’t just wave them,” Spencer said. Jon could tell from his crossed arms and tense shoulders that he was getting ready to snap.

“The Academy was concealing their warp signature from the Cobra and the Cobra is concealing their signature from us,” Ray explained.

“So, what help are you going to be, then?” Ryan asked over the comm. Jon couldn’t tell, because Ryan had a tendency to always sound bland, but he thought Ryan might be getting annoyed.

“We can’t track the Cobra, but we can track The Academy, and if we catch up with them, it’s only a matter of time before the Cobra does, too,” Frank said. He got very expressive when he spoke, eyes wide, hands waving. He and Gerard had a lot of the same mannerisms. Gerard was nodding eagerly at everything Frank said.

“You can come with us, if you like,” Gerard said.

“The more the merrier!” Frank added, throwing his hands up the air, grin wide and infectious.

“You guys don’t seem very worried about this,” Ryan said, and sounded wary.

“Gabe won’t hurt your friend,” Frank said dismissively.

“How can you be so sure?” Spencer asked. “The guys on The Academy were pretty freaked out when anyone even mentioned the Cobra.”

“Gabe’s a kitten,” Frank said. He had a fond look about him when he said it.
“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Ryan said.

“Ryan,” Spencer began, but a ringing noise sounded through the hall and everyone got up.

“Time to go,” Gerard said, clapping his hands. “Mikey?” Mikey nodded and head back down the hall to the airlock. “Ray, can you get us warmed up. Bob, go ahead and take the helm; I want to get through the wormhole before anyone notices Ryan gone. Alicia, get on the comm. with Ops and make sure we’re good to go. Frank, you-”

“Mister Way?” Jon looked in the direction of the voice and saw Mikey leading a Trill woman in Starfleet uniform, beautiful and tall, with a playful smile on her lips.

“Lieutenant Dax,” Gerard greeted, sweeping over to her, taking her hand and laying a kiss on the back. “I’m so pleased you decided to join us.”

“Your ‘friend’ has my new Ensign,” Dax replied wryly.

“Lieutenant Dax is there?” Ryan demanded. “What’s going on? You’re not leaving without me.”

“Frank,” Gerard said. “Can you get down to the transporter room and get Ryan’s coordinates?” Jon was amused that, despite Frank’s title as Captain and Ray’s as XO, Gerard seemed to be the one giving orders on the Helena.

“You can’t just beam him out!” Spencer protested. “Security will have a field to prevent transporter activity in his quarters.”

Frank wiggled his brows at them. “I love a challenge,” he said, and dashed out of the room.

“So,” Gerard said, and looked at Jon and Spencer in turn. “You coming?”

Spencer looked hesitant, and Jon could understand. Breaking Ryan out of his quarters and taking off without warning across the galaxy, who knew where-that couldn’t be good for Spencer’s position as a member of the security team.

Dax looked at Spencer speculatively. “When we bring Ensign Urie back, the charges against Mister Ross will be dropped. And Benjamin will understand,” she said to him.

“That’s terrific for you,” Spencer said. “But I don’t answer to Sisko. I answer to Odo. And you might have some sort of weird thing going on with the Commander, but I doubt you have the same sway with the Constable.”

Jon touched Spencer’s elbow, angled so Gerard and Dax couldn’t see it, but it made Spencer relax a little. “Spence,” Ryan said, voice soft. Spencer looked at Jon; Jon had seen Ryan and Spencer have silent conversations and it took him a second to realise that he was a part of it now, could tell from the way Spencer’s eyes searched his that he was looking for an answer.

Apparently, he found it. “Okay,” Spencer said at last.

A moment later there was a loud sound as the docking clamps released and the resultant sway of the ship as it slowly floated away before Bob apparently took control. Frank and Ryan emerged from the hall down which Frank had gone.

“I better get to my bridge,” Frank said, and was gone to the turbolift with a wave of his hand.

Gerard watched him fondly and said, “And I better go keep an eye on him on the bridge.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Ryan asked of Dax, without preamble, when the crew of the Helena was gone.

Dax took a seat, all poise. She arched a fine brow at Ryan. “You’re not the only one who cares about Ensign Urie.”

Ryan scowled. “That’s not what I meant. How’d you get here?”

“I met Mister Way on the Promenade and he explained his predicament to me,” Dax said. She purposefully wasn’t saying more than was necessary, Jon could tell, because she enjoyed making others draw answers from her.

“And what predicament would that be?” Ryan asked through clenched teeth. As he’d spoken he’d come closer, perhaps unconsciously, until he’d worked his way between Spencer and Jon, so close they were all touching.

Dax crossed her legs at the knees and laced her hands atop them. “You mean, you don’t know?” she teased. Ryan’s eyes narrowed and Spencer scowled. Dax laughed. “He told me he had a list of tasks he must complete, and one of them was to bring to his Admiral of the Fleet a Starfleet science or medical officer.”

“What sort of task is that?” Jon asked, bewildered.

“And you just agreed?” Ryan asked. He looked faintly incredulous.

“Well,” Dax said, and shrugged. “He explained that he was after the Cobra, and after all, I’m the one who got Ensign Urie the position on Deep Space Nine. I’m responsible.”

She spoke with such mirth. Jon didn’t really know her, but he got the impression that there was very little she took seriously. He wondered how long she’d been alive, if the ease she possessed had something to do with the number of lives she’d lived. So he just asked. “You’re joined, aren’t you?”

Dax didn’t even look taken aback. She just nodded. Jon ignored the almost betrayed look Ryan was giving him and went closer to where she was seated, taking a seat across the table from her. “So, what number are you?”

“Eight,” Dax answered readily. “I’m Jadzia, by the way.”

“Jon,” he answered and took her hand when she offered it to be shaken.

Jadzia glanced at Spencer and Ryan and said, “I’m not going to bite, you know,” but Jon wasn’t sure that was entirely true.

Spencer and Ryan kept their distance at first, but Jon knew it couldn’t last. Ryan had to understand about Starfleet, because Jon knew Brendon loved what he did, and Ryan couldn’t expect him to give that up for the sake of their friendship (mostly because Jon thought that Brendon might actually do it, if Ryan asked).

While Jon didn’t really socialise with a lot of Starfleet officers, he’d met a few here and there that were neat, and Jadzia seemed very interesting. Besides, she’d been willing to leave duty and sit by while Ryan was broken out of confinement, all in order to aid Brendon.

She began to tell him about her lives, all eight of them, spanning 350 odd years. She didn’t tell them in any linear fashion, jumping from life two to life seven to life one and all around and back again, each story crazier and funnier than the last. She had stories about how her previous host had died after indulging himself with a particularly raunchy night on Risa (Jon didn’t even flinch), raucous parties on Qo’noS, and one hilarious-if kinky-tale about when she’d been an Olympic gymnast and visited Earth, seducing a Starfleet cadet.

Frank, Ray and Gerard joined them after a while, delighting in Jadzia’s stories and sharing their own and by the time Bob had made them dinner, Ryan and Spencer were laughing along with everyone else, even when it was Jadzia who spoke. Jon just smiled into his hand and knew that eventually, once they got Brendon back, everything would be cool.

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