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Chapter Text

Chapter 1
[Scene: Deep Space Nine - Ops]

Deep Space Nine’s core systems provided a steady hum that had always sounded like a small heartbeat to Lieutenant Commander Jadzia Dax. On most days, it was simple background music to the daily orchestration of station life which was nearly always abuzz. Today was different though. Today, she was seated in the commander’s office. In Sisko’s chair with a clear vantage point of the center of Ops which somehow seemed louder and more insistent than usual. Maybe it was just the silence of Sisko’s office that muffled the sounds she was used to from her seat within Ops at the science console currently occupied by Ensign Roger Pauley.

Sisko was gone. Kira was gone. Worf was on Boreth, waist-deep in Klingon rituals and incense smoke. And that left Jadzia Dax was in command of the Deep Space Nine, responsible for the Starfleet and Bajoran personnel and every civilian life on the station.
She adjusted her posture in the commander’s chair, brushing invisible dust from the edge of her uniform. The chair didn’t feel heavy, not exactly, but it had its own sort of gravity. She felt it pulling her towards it. Even with the Dominion War creeping at the edges of every star chart though, she had expected today to be relatively routine. But then again, “routine” had become a stranger since the war began.

Chief O’Brien stood at the primary engineering console, eyes narrowed as he scrolled through a stream of data while Ensign Nog stood beside him, alert and eager, practically vibrating with anticipation. The sight of the two working so close together made Dax smile faintly. Nog had matured into a competent, eager young officer, but he hadn’t lost that spark… that blend of Ferengi ambition and Starfleet discipline that made him distinctively unique. It was something Dax admired.

She stood from the chair, exited the station commander’s office and stepped down into Ops leaning forward over a console. “Chief, Ensign, you boys look like something just kicked you in the plasma coils.”

O’Brien didn’t look up. “Power anomalies, Sir. Minor fluctuations in the secondary grid. They’re not in the usual patterns, nothing you'd expect from load balancing or routine cycling. It's subtle, but someone’s rerouting power in a very careful, very quiet way.”

Dax frowned. “Do you mean sabotage?”

“Could be,” O’Brien said. “Or just a very clever maintenance glitch. Starfleet LCARS and Cardassian hardware aren’t exactly a match made in programming heaven. Either way, it’s worth investigating.”

“Ensign Nog,” Dax said, “you’re on it. Work with the Chief. I want the two of you to track every power fluctuation. If someone’s poking around in our systems, I want to know how, where, and why.”

“Yes, sir!” Nog said with a sharp nod, the faintest trace of a smile on his face. He moved quickly to a side console and began scanning junction logs.

Before Lieutenant Commander Dax could settle back into the office, the lift came to halt and opened. A tall man in a charcoal-gray flag officer’s jacket and a command-gold tunic beneath stepped briskly onto the Ops deck. His face was lined, his posture ramrod straight. Even before he opened his mouth, the room’s whole mood shifted. The gleaming pip cluster and delta badge on his chest were almost redundant. The sharp, critical presence of Vice Admiral Arnold Toddman announced itself.

“Commander Dax,” Toddman said, offering a nod that stopped short of courtesy. “I assume you were notified that I might make an inspection visit” added Toddman.

Benjamin Sisko played games with Dax all the time but omitting that a flag officer would be stopping by in his absence was not something Ben would have done. She knew it was intentional that she happened to not know anything about this inspection.

“You assume incorrectly,” Dax said, keeping her voice level.

“Then consider this notice delivered, Commander” replied Toddman.

Dax took a breath trying to calm her nerves. “We’re currently investigating some anomalous power readings. It may not be the best moment for a walkthrough.”

Toddman’s eyes scanned Ops with the precision of a tactical grid overlay. “Anomalies are exactly why I’m here. Starfleet Security has requested a wartime audit of key frontier installations such as Deep Space Nine. Given the station’s history with Dominion incursions, Maquis activity, and your commanding officer’s... unorthodox decisions, I insisted on beginning here.”

O’Brien muttered something under his breath. Dax didn’t ask him to repeat it.

“I see,” she said. “Captain Sisko and Major Kira are representing the station at a Federation–Bajoran conference. You are welcome to reschedule your audit. Otherwise, you’ll be dealing with me.”

Toddman arched one graying brow. “Oh, I’m aware. That’s part of my concern. Command decisions here are... heavily personality-driven. Risk-tolerant. Let’s see how the second string performs under pressure.”

She smiled without showing teeth. “Happy to exceed your expectations, Admiral.”

“I doubt that’ll be necessary” he replied.

He strode over to the systems console manned by Lieutenant Monique Bilecki, a human officer with a platinum-blonde pompadour and a slight smirk frozen just behind regulation decorum.

“Lieutenant,” Toddman said crisply, “access logs, command simulations, security drills, and current threat assessments. All of it.”

Bilecki handed him a PADD, barely concealing her distaste for his tone. “Streamlined interface’s already prepped, sir. Please don’t break it.”

Toddman tapped rapidly through the files. “Let’s hope the systems are more robust than the attitude of this crew.”

Dax crossed her arms, resisting the urge to dig her nails into the nearest soft surface be that flesh or otherwise.

She tapped her combadge. “Odo, report to Ops when available. We’ve got a system anomaly that needs a closer look, and an Admiral here for an audit.”

“Oh, really? I am on my way,” Odo’s voice came with a quick scoff, clipped and suspicious.

Nog approached again with a PADD. “Commander, I think I’ve got something. The anomalies are forming a pattern… a slow cycling drain across non-critical systems. Every 11.7 minutes. It’s buried under diagnostic masking, but it’s definitely artificial.”

Dax looked over the PADD skimming it. “Where’s the source?”

“Docking Ring. Cargo Bay 4, Sir” replied Nog.

O’Brien looked up. “That’s where we had those sensor ghosts last week. I thought it was static from the antimatter offload. Looks like it wasn’t.”

Toddman stepped forward. “Then initiate a lockdown. Cargo Bay 4, adjoining sectors, internal force fields and armed security.”

Dax turned to face him. “With all due respect, Admiral, we don’t know what this is yet. A lockdown without any confirmation could trigger a panic, especially if it leaks among the civilian sectors of the station.”

“You’re not running a cruise liner, Commander. This is a military installation in a war zone.”

“Actually, this is a multi-species Cardassian station under the jurisdiction of the provisional government of Bajor, who have authorized a Starfleet presence. We also have over 3,000 civilians aboard,” she shot back correcting him. “Fear is harder to clean up than a faulty power loop. Let my people assess the situation before we cause unnecessary panic.”

There was a pause, measured and tense.

Toddman folded his hands behind his back. “Noted. Proceed with your... assessment, but do be advised, I will be logging my recommendations with Starfleet Command.”

Dax nodded and turned her attention back to O’Brien. “Take Ensign Nog. Sweep Cargo Bay 4. Use encrypted tricorders, level three diagnostics. Don’t alert anyone until we know what we’re dealing with., understood?”

Nog’s eyes widened with determination. “Aye, Commander.”

Dax sat the PADD down and folded her arms across her chest trying to ignore the heat rising behind her ears.

The station hummed softly beneath her. Familiar. Steady. But just slightly... off. Toddman stood a few paces behind her, watching. Measuring, and undoubtedly waiting for her to fail. Dax refused to give him the satisfaction.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2
[Scene: Deep Space Nine – Cargo Bay 4]

With a suppressed hiss and clanking, the bulkhead door closed behind them as they entered Cargo Bay 4. There was a low thrumming of nearby systems. The dim lighting created long shadows across the stacked cargo containers, and the silence was suspicious… unnaturally and unnervingly so.

Chief O’Brien swept his tricorder in a slow arcing motion. His eyebrows knit tightly together, etching a peculiar expression on his face. Beside him was Ensign Nog who mirrored the movement with eager precision. They were thorough, careful, and alert, a good team.

"Readings are still masked," O’Brien muttered. "There is something dampening standard scans, but there’s at least a signal trail… low-band EM pulses, bouncing around the floor grates. It looks like someone rigged a loopback circuit."

Ensign Nog glanced toward the bulkhead. “Chief, there’s a blind spot behind the refrigeration housing. It could be a device tucked back there.”

“Only one way of knowing, Ensign. Let’s find out,” O’Brien said grimly, drawing his hyperspanner from his engineering kit.

Meanwhile, back in Ops, Jadzia Dax watched the feed from surveillance systems with growing unease. Standing at a station, she leaned forward with her eyes narrowed at the console screen.
Toddman loomed nearby, his arms folded tightly behind his back. “Standard containment protocols would have prevented this.”

Dax didn’t bother looking up. “Perhaps. It also would have alerted whoever set it to act faster. Right now, we are isolating without telegraphing what we are doing.”

Toddman sniffed lightly. “An indulgence. Typical of Captain Sisko’s command philosophy… intuition over discipline.”

That did it. Dax was tired of having this Vice Admiral insult Captain Sisko without him present to defend himself.

Dax turned, standing slowly, facing the admiral squarely. “Is this an inspection, Admiral, or a referendum on Captain Sisko? It is beginning to seem like a vendetta.”

Toddman’s jaw tightened a fraction. “Your commanding officer’s tactics have drawn criticism in more than one war council. Starfleet Command tolerates flexibility but bending protocol until it snaps is not a sustainable strategy. Captain Sisko…”

Dax gave him a patient smile, the kind that came with centuries of self-control, but interjected, nonetheless. “Benjamin Sisko has made this station into the strongest foothold the Federation has in this sector. He’s held it valiantly against Dominion fleets, Cardassian scheming, and Klingon aggression. If his methods make you uncomfortable then you might ask yourself why his techniques have worked.”

Toddman’s eyes flicked toward the Ops staff where Bilecki, silent but observant; the young officer was monitoring sensors pretending not to listen, but in Ops, everything was heard.

“We’ll see if they work in his absence,” he said coolly, then turned back to the tactical display.

The turbolift opened. Odo strode into Ops appearing in his usual Bajoran uniform, form fitting.

“You wanted me?” the constable said, his eyes scanning the room before resting on Dax.

She nodded and gestured subtly toward her office. “Walk with me, Constable.”

They slipped out of Ops, the doors closing behind them. The glass walls muffled the outside chatter. Dax took a moment to center herself, hands resting on the edge of the desk.

Odo stood stiffly across from her. “The admiral’s not exactly blending in, is he?”

Dax shook her head. “No, he is not. Vice Admiral Arnold Toddman,” she said with mock ceremony. “Security hammer of Starfleet Command. Apparently, I’m the nail.”

Odo arched a brow ridge. “I remember Toddman. He was one of the voices against Sisko’s after the loss of the Odyssey. The Admiral has suggested that Sisko is too emotionally compromised to command a wartime front.”

“That was barely six months into the conflict,” Dax said. “He’s never let go of it?”

Odo leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “What do you want me to do with him?”

The question hung in the air. Dax let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “Make him vanish.”

Odo’s mouth twitched at the corner. “That’s more Garak’s department.”

They shared a brief smile… one of those rare, unguarded moments.

“I need you watching, Odo,” Dax said, tone sobering. “If Toddman tries to interfere, if he pokes into things we don’t want poked... I want to know before he opens his mouth.”

“Then, you think he’s here for more than an official audit?”

“Oh, I think he is here for an audit, but I think he’s hoping I’ll fail,” she said flatly. “And I think if he finds even a hint of something off, he’ll leverage it into a case against Sisko… maybe even against this whole command structure.”

Odo nodded once. “Understood.”

Just then, her combadge chirped.

“O’Brien to Dax. We found it.”

She tapped her badge. “Go ahead.”

“It’s a passive relay, Commander. It is a disguised signal amplifier that was wedged behind the refrigeration unit. It’s wired into an old Cardassian emergency power coupler. Someone’s using it to ping the outer subspace relay bands with a very low signal and a very tight beam.”

Nog’s voice then cut in. “We’ve isolated the frequency. It’s transmitting once every ten minutes, but only for two seconds. We’re not sure what it’s sending yet, but it’s not Starfleet encoding.”

Dax’s eyes sharpened. “Dominion?”

“We can’t tell yet, but it’s encrypted with a compression burst we’ve seen on Cardassian shadow relays. And it's been running for at least five days” reported O’Brien.

Dax’s stomach tightened. “Stand by,” she replied.

She stepped out of her office and back into Ops. Toddman turned the moment she reappeared.
“Status, Commander?”

Dax met his gaze. “It’s a covert transmitter. Masked and shielded. It could be Cardassian tech. Could be worse.”

“Have you contained it?” asked Toddman.

“We will, Admiral, but I want to track the signal’s destination before we disable it” explained Dax.

Toddman frowned. “That is unacceptable. If this is Dominion espionage, every second that signal is active is a breach.”

Dax walked right up to him, toe to toe. “Admiral, ff it’s a listening device, you’re right, but if it’s a baited line… sending information but also waiting for a reply, then shutting it down alerts the other end that we have found it. Then we learn nothing.”

Toddman stepped back slightly. “So, you’re gambling.”

She hated to admit it, but she was known for her Tongo skills. “No, I’m calculating.”

He studied her face like a granite sculpture, but Dax put on her best poker face.

Odo stepped beside her. “We will deploy an internal dampening field around the cargo bay. The signal will still transmit, but it’s going nowhere now.”

“Containment without confrontation,” Dax said smoothly. “Just the way Benjamin would do it.”

Toddman gave her a thin smile that held no warmth. “Just a single miscalculation, Commander, and you’ll find yourself explaining it to a tribunal.”

“Thanks, Admiral, but I’ll take the risk,” she said. “You wanted to see how this command holds under pressure. Well, you’re getting your answer.”

Bilecki’s voice called from the upper console. “I’ve got something! Data fragments piggybacking on the carrier wave. Text bursts. Old Cardassian encoding just like the chief suspected.”

“Can we trace the destination?” Dax asked.

“Working on it, Commander,” Bilecki replied. “It’s not broadcasting through the wormhole… It’s local. Whatever’s receiving it, it is already on the station.”

Everyone froze. Already on the station. That was concerning.

Toddman narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got a second device and you’ve been broadcasting to it for days.”

Dax didn’t reply. She simply pointed toward Odo. “Find it, Constable.”

He nodded and strode for the lift without a word.

As Ops resumed its quiet flurry of tension and movement, Dax retreated slowly to the office to sink into the commander’s chair. She could feel Toddman watching her. Measuring. She didn’t flinch. If this was a test, she intended to ace it and not let Sisko down.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3
[Scene: Deep Space Nine – Cargo Bay 4]

The midday hustle and bustle of the Promenade had faded by now which had rendered it deceptively calm. Civilians mingled with off duty station personnel, Bajoran vendors shouted amiable invitations welcoming people into their shops and stands, and the scent of fresh hasperat drifted from a nearby kiosk. From a distance, Deep Space Nine looked like a place untouched by threat. That was the true deception. War was at a full boil, and the station was constantly threatened.

Constable Odo moved through the crowd like a knife through churned butter, silently and scanning the crowd and establishments. The second device had to be close. The trace Bilecki provided indicated that the receiver wasn’t more than fifty meters from the first transmitter. That narrowed the field down to a cluster of shops, a Bajoran textile stall…

…and Quark’s Bar. Of course. If anything was running amok on Deep Space Nine, Quark's was undoubtedly involved.

Odo stopped at the entrance, not bothering to hide the way his sunken eyes narrowed ever so suspiciously. The bar was half full. Uniformed station personnel scattered throughout, a trio of Klingons arguing at a corner table, and of course Quark himself standing behind the counter polishing a glass with a smug flourish.

Odo walked in with a confident stride as though he would catch Quark involved in something borderline criminal.

Quark looked up, his lobes practically twitching. “Constable! If you’re here to discourage Klingon brawls, you’re early. Happy hour doesn’t start for another...” he trailed off.

“I’m not here about a brawl,” Odo interjected. “Not yet at least" he added.

Quark’s smile froze. “Oh. Well, in that case, Constable, can I offer you a drink? A seat? A list of specials? A bribe?” Quark knew better. Odo had no need for food or beverage, just to mimic the act in front of others to 'fit in' with the solids.

Odo ignored him, sweeping a tricorder over the bar. The readings spiked immediately.

Quark seemed to become paled. “That’s not mine" pipped the Ferengi, an octave of key.

Odo nearly grinned. He shot a curious look at Quark. “I haven’t told you what it is yet,” Odo said.

“You’re holding a tricorder and pointing it at my bar, Constable. It is always something stolen, illegal, or an explosive. I thought I’d get ahead of things" explained Quark.

Odo scoffed silently then scoured the underside of the counter, finding nothing. He then moved toward the dabo tables. The device, whatever it was, emitted only a low residual signature; it was dormant now, as if it had gone quiet once its partner was isolated, but the signal trail didn’t lie. It was very near.

Quark followed helplessly behind him. “Constable, really... if this is about that shipment of quantum filament nets, I was assured they were legal...”

“Quiet, Quark” Odo said cutting him off.

Odo then crouched under the leftmost dabo table. A flicker of metal caught the light. He slid his hand under the console and ripped out a palm sized, angular device. It was Cardassian in aesthetic, Federation in assembly, and unmistakably contraband.

Quark made a strangled noise. Surprised that something was found “What is that? Some kind of… listening thing? A bomb?” People had tried to kill Quark before including with an explosive device, including his idiot brother.

Odo stood slowly, holding the device like an executioner’s axe. “It’s a subspace receiver. One that’s been communicating with a transmitter in Cargo Bay 4.”

Quark wilted behind the bar, his shoulders sinking. This was interesting and concerning. It was not his device.

Odo tapped his combadge. “Odo to Dax.”

“Go ahead,” Dax’s voice answered, tense but controlled.

“I’ve found the second device, Commander” reported Odo.

“Is it active?” asked Dax.

“No. Someone shut it down. Likely the same moment we dampened the first.”

A short beat of silence. “Location?”

Odo let the word hang in the air before speaking. “Quark’s Bar.”

In Ops, Dax felt every pair of eyes twist toward her. Toddman stepped closer.

“Your security officer found a Dominion or Cardassian relay in a known smuggler’s establishment,” the admiral said, tone edged with quiet triumph. “This is precisely the sort of negligence I expected from this command.”

Dax ignored him. “Is Quark a suspect?”

Odo’s voice was drier than a Vulcan desert. “Quark is always a suspect.”

Toddman folded his arms. “If the device was under his table, it’s his. There’s your leak.”

Dax shook her head sharply. Quark was a lot of things, capable of a lot of things, but this did not make sense to Dax. “No. Quark doesn’t play spy. He plays profit. Installing espionage equipment risks losing his liquor license, and you know how seriously Ferengi take that.”

Toddman raised an eyebrow. “A Ferengi’s innocence is not predetermined, Commander.”

“No,” Dax said. “But neither is his guilt, and Quark wouldn't take a risk like this unless there was a lot of profit involved.”

Odo’s voice came again. “I suggest you come down here, Commander.”

Dax tapped her badge. “On my way.”

Toddman stepped toward her. “I will accompany you.”

Dax braced, then nodded stiffly. “As you wish.”

The walk to Quark’s felt like a gauntlet. The Promenade was calm, but the tension between Dax and the vice admiral stretched taut and unmistakable. Officers stepped aside instinctively. Civilians lowered their voices.

It felt like the station itself was watching them.

When they entered the bar, Quark nearly squealed. “Commander! Admiral! I swear on every Rule of Acquisition, I have nothing to do with that—thing!”

Toddman’s eyes narrowed at Quark’s yellowed teeth and frantic smile. “Constable, detain him.”

Odo nodded slowly. Too slowly. Detaining Quark for questioning was almost as routine as the sound of a dabo wheel, but Odo only detained and questioned Quark when he suspected Quark was behind something criminal. He did not believe Quark was behind this.

Dax stepped between them. “Not yet, Constable.”

Toddman’s head snapped toward her. “Commander Dax, It would be in the best interest...”

She held up a hand. “Quark, when was the last time you went under that dabo table?”

Quark blinked. He was unsure what Dax's game was, but he would play. “Why would I go under the dabo table? Dabo girls go under the table. I supervise from above like a proper businessman" he said playfully.

Dax turned to Odo. “Constable, how long would you say the device has been there?”

Odo consulted the tricorder. “At least six days, Commander.”

Dax nodded. “Quark, where have you been for the last week?”

Quark straightened, suddenly indignant. “Working! Importing! Selling! Trying to keep the bar open while you people terrify every tourist in the quadrant!”

Nog’s voice piped up from the entrance, breathless and earnest. He had been silent for too long. “He’s telling the truth, Commander. Quark’s been here every day. I am.... his nephew, remember? I’d know if he was sneaking around cargo bays" stated Nog albeit reluctant to associate himself with his uncle Quark in front of a vice admiral.

Toddman looked from Nog to Quark to Dax, eyes narrowing as if recalculating an equation that refused to balance itself. “Alright. Even if he didn’t install it,” Toddman said, “it was hidden in his establishment. That speaks to deeper negligence.”

Quark sputtered. “Negligence? Negligence?! I keep this place cleaner than the Grand Nagus' tax records! I check everything..."

Odo gave him a flat look. “That is demonstrably false.”

Quark shrugged. "Alright. Almost everything... usually. Things have been busy and I am short staffed" explained Quark.

Dax knelt by the dabo table again, scanning the underside. Her eyes narrowed.

“Whoever installed this knew Quark wouldn’t look under here,” she murmured. “They also knew Odo scans for heat signatures twice a day in this bar.”

Quark immediately shot a look at Odo, one that was offended yet also impressed. There's was a strange relationship.

Odo’s eyes flickered. “This device has a thermal-masking layer. Someone went through a lot of trouble to keep me from noticing it.”

Toddman crossed his arms. “A professional infiltrator, then.”

“More than that i'd say,” Dax said, holding the device up to the light. “Look here. These micro scratches along the casing. Somebody pried this open... and done so recently.”

Odo nodded. “This isn’t off-the-shelf Cardassian version either. Clealry, It’s been modified.”

“Which means whoever planted it isn’t just relaying data,” Dax concluded. “They’re interpreting it. Decoding. Sending the information elsewhere.”

Toddman’s expression hardened. “You have someone embedded within your station population, Lieutenant Commander Dax.”

Quark threw up his hands. “Embedded? I run a bar, not a spy academy!”

Dax, who had crouched to inspect underneath the dabo table in question rose to her feet slowly, turning to Odo. “Constable, I want a full sweep of Quark’s. Every table, every bottle, every replicator. Pull the security logs for the last ten days.”

Odo nodded. “Already on it, Commander.”

Quark gulped. “Do you have any idea what all of this will do to my business?”

Toddman gave him a razor-edged smile. “Consider it penance.”

Quark groaned like a dying Targ.

Dax stepped back, thinking. “Admiral… whoever planted these devices didn’t want us to find it yet. They wanted it running until Captain Sisko returned.”

Toddman raised an eyebrow. “Then you suspect that this is an attack timed around his absence?”

“That’s exactly what it looks like,” Dax said. “Someone knew the captain and Major Kira would be gone. Someone prepared for it.”

Toddman glanced around the bar, lips pressed in a hard line. “Then someone on this station,” he said, “is three steps ahead of you.”

Dax met his gaze, unwavering. “Not for long.”