"No, I'm afraid Miss Maya is not with me, Mister Verdeschi," said Odo, observing the human coldly. It was still difficult to believe Maya had any romantic interest in this young man. The only thing in his favour as far as Odo could tell was that Maya meant a lot to him.

Verdeschi's face fell. "What happened?"

"Nothing. She's still in conversation with Weyoun. Whatever he had to say to her had her riveted -- I presume we'll know more when she comes back. If she does come back," he added, as much to express his own doubts as to test Verdeschi's reaction.

Sitting on the seat opposite Odo in the Security Office, the human looked suitably depressed, but he exchanged a look with Nerys, who gave him a comforting smile. The Changeling felt his insides ripple with anger. Since when was Nerys giving comforting smiles to a near-complete stranger?

"I also thought you might like to know that all Alpha's weaponry has just been transferred to Deep Space Nine -- into my care," said Odo, annoyed by Nerys' behaviour. "It will be handed back to you when you return to your universe."

"I see," said Verdeschi thoughtfully. "Actually, I'd been expecting something like that. I do realise you don't want a station full of laser-toting 'primitive humans', but I would feel much more comfortable if at least some of my men were armed. We need our weapons now, in this universe, not just when we return to ours."

Odo narrowed his eyes. "And what would you do with the weapons?"

"Organise a hold-up at Quark's?" suggested Verdeschi with a grin. "What do you think we'd do with the weapons? Defend ourselves, of course!"

"That won't be possible," said Odo immediately. Verdeschi was right; a station full of laser-toting 20th century humans would be a nightmare. They were said to be a particularly violent breed of humans, with the ruthlessness of Klingons and the mentality of Ferengi. "I cannot allow your people to be armed as long as they are on the station. The Bajoran Militia can protect you while you are here."

Verdeschi frowned and leaned forward in his seat, pointing at Odo. "Now, wait a minute. I'm prepared to be reasonable on this, and I'd expect you to meet me halfway. I thought we were supposed to be guests here, not prisoners. I don't want to get all military on you, but I think that under the present circumstances, we need to be able to protect ourselves, and the only way to do that is for us to bear arms. With all due respect, I don't know your people -- I mean, the Bajorans," he corrected. "And I don't know any of the other aliens trotting around the Promenade either. If the Dominion attacked again, your Militia's first priority would surely be to protect their own kind. In fact, I doubt saving Alphans would be top on anyone's list."

Verdeschi was making a visible effort to remain calm. Odo wondered just how long that veneer of civilisation would last.

"And you think that your lasers will offer adequate protection from the Jem'Hadar?" he sneered. He had inspected the Alphan weapons and had found them to be merely laser emitters with two settings, 'stun' and 'kill' -- neither of which, as far as he could tell from his quick tests, were guaranteed to yield the desired result.

"Beats our bare fists," said Verdeschi irritably.

"The answer is no," declared Odo.

Verdeschi took in a deep breath and -- again -- looked at Nerys. The Major took his hint. "Odo," she started, "It's not an unreasonable demand. You asked for no less from the Dominion when they were occupying the station."

Odo stared at Nerys for a moment, amazed to hear her defending the Alphan -- and bringing up a particularly difficult period of Deep Space Nine's recent history, as well. At the time, Odo had indeed used his influence as a Founder to convince Weyoun to reinstate and rearm the Bajoran Militia on the station, but the Constable did not see that this was in any way comparable to the present situation with the Alphans.

"There, listen to your lady-friend," said Verdeschi, indicating Nerys with obvious satisfaction. "It's not like we're supposed to be your enemies or anything."

Odo crossed his arms and watched the Alphan suspiciously. "That remains to be seen. I'm afraid I don't have very good reports of the behaviour of 20th century humans."

"Oh there we go!" exclaimed Verdeschi, his patience evidently at an end. "Now the truth comes out. Just because we have bad press in the 24th century doesn't mean you should judge us off-hand. It's not like I'm telling you I don't trust you personally because I know what your Founder friends are up to. What proof do you have that we, the Alphans, are going to cause trouble?"

"He's right, Odo," intervened Nerys. "You can't refuse to arm them based purely on prejudice."

Odo pondered the matter for a few seconds. He was in no doubt that if he continued to refuse, Verdeschi would take up the matter with Sisko, who, being a fellow human, would probably give the Alphans their weapons back. The matter would then be left in Starfleet hands -- and quite frankly, Odo didn't have a high opinion of Starfleet Security. If the Alphans were going to have weapons, Odo wanted to be the one keeping an eye on them.

"Very well," he said finally. "I'll allow five of your men to be armed. But I want profiles of those men before the weapons are handed over -- and that includes you, Mister Verdeschi. I reserve the right to refuse any applicant."

"What? But that's outrageous!" burst out Verdeschi, standing up to lean on Odo's desk. "The choice of security guards is mine to make. They're my men, and I'll decide who should carry a weapon or not."

Delighted by the Alphan's reaction, Odo also stood up so as to tower over the human. "And based on this outburst, you expect me to trust your judgement, Mister Verdeschi?"

"Oh very clever," said Verdeschi sarcastically, crossing his arms. "Mister Reasonable giving me lessons."

Casting a glance at Nerys, Odo could tell she was seething. "Perhaps we could just settle this matter," she said sharply. "That is, if you'd both stop letting the testosterone do the talking."

Verdeschi guffawed and looked Odo over disdainfully. "Somehow, I think I'm the only one with that problem."

It took a moment for Odo to realise the extent of the insult. And once he did, he promised himself it would be some time before he forgave Verdeschi for it.

John could not suppress a sigh as he looked around the gutted Command Centre. This had been his place of work, his territory, for the past four years. It had always lacked the style and grandeur of the old Main Mission, but he had become used to Alpha's underground 'bunker' as he sometimes thought of it, with its cluttered desks and noisy computer.

Everything was silent now. The main computer had been shut down; its wall of lights was charred and dark, its printers and terminals off-line forever. Nobody would ever use the melted coffee machine again. The big screen wasn't even displaying its customary test pattern. The only things still working were some of the ceiling lights and the life support system.

In a few minutes, John and Helena would take Eagle One to Deep Space Nine, leaving Patrick and Jim and their team of engineers to strip the base. The other Eagles had already been transferred to DS9's runabout hangars. The Defiant would evacuate the very last Alphans later that evening, and a Federation team would come to mine the Moon overnight, ready to blow it up in the morning.

John shook his head, reflecting yet again how incredibly unlucky the Alphans had been this time. If they had encountered the wormhole just a few weeks earlier or later, the Moon would have avoided Bajor VIII completely -- as it was, a shift of barely a couple of degrees would have been enough to make the two miss each other. Without this imminent collision, John could have parlayed longer with the Federation, negotiating from the relative security of his own base.

Now, John and his people would be no more than exiles, devoid even of that one tiny piece of drifting territory that was theirs. Much as the commander tried to convince himself that he was still in control of the situation, he knew that as soon as the last Alphan set foot on DS9, they would be at the mercy of the Federation. And even if this universe's humans were relatively friendly, Starfleet's best interests were clearly not Alpha's.

John turned back towards the door; there was no point lingering. He lifted his eyes one last time to the sign above the door; the red film had melted and curled at the edges, rendering its inscription illegible. John smiled -- not that they had ever needed a sign inside the Command Centre to tell them what it was.

He was about to open the door when it slid open and revealed Maya standing on the other side.

"Commander," she said. She was the only one of the senior staff on Alpha who always called him Commander. Helena naturally never called him anything but John, and Tony and Alan tended to call everyone by their first name anyway. After all these years of working together in difficult conditions, the familiarity had become something of a comfort. "Can I speak to you in private?"

John indicated she could come into the Command Centre. "Weyoun has left," she said simply as the doors closed behind her. She was clutching an orange and green box, though she didn't tell him what it was.

"Weyoun asked me to go to Cardassia to help him undo the Vorta's genetic engineering," she announced, her eyes lowered. "He wants to rebel against the Founders and strike a compromise with the Federation to allow the Vorta back to their home Quadrant. If his people are freed of their loyalty to the Founders, it would put an end to this war which has already cost billions of lives... I... I said I would think about it."

John was taken aback. He could see Maya's enthusiasm for this project, but the plan didn't seem very sound. It was news to him that putting an end to the Federation-Dominion war was as simple as "undoing" the Vorta's genetic engineering.

"So if we return to our universe, you want to remain in this one," he said slowly.

"Yes." She hesitated, clasping her hands nervously and looking around the room -- anywhere but at his eyes. "I know it sounds strange, but I think I could really make a difference in this war. My counterpart in this universe was the one who designed the Vorta. She made them devoted to the Founders, she gave them weaknesses that made them unsuited for armed combat, and strengths that made them immune to disease or poisoning. At the Founders' request, she created a race of perfect administrators and diplomats. But she and I did share some moral traits."

Turning to look at John again, Maya leaned against the melted blob which had once been his desk, as if seeking support from its indistinct forms. "When Maya designed the Vorta, she programmed them with a flaw -- the engineering could be easily undone provided one had the key to do that. The trouble is that Maya died -- in rather unclear circumstances -- before she could tell anyone what that key was. All Weyoun knows is that it has some link to the Psychon ability to metamorphose."

John was now beginning to understand why Weyoun had wanted to talk to Maya so urgently. "And he thinks that because you're Maya's alternate counterpart, you would know what that key is." Maya nodded. "Why did he attack us instead of simply explaining all this in the first place? Because that's the Dominion way?"

"Well, yes..." she started, though she was smiling. "He thought he could explain an overt attack to the Founders as an attempt to neutralise me. His plan was to tell the Founders I was dead and keep me in a secret location so I could free him of his genetic engineering without them knowing... But the truth is that he didn't have much time to come up with any precise plan at all. We've only been here four days."

"It's all very interesting," admitted John, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "It's a remarkable coincidence that you happen to be the person who engineered the Vorta."

"I know. I suppose that's why I feel I should do this... Commander, I'm sure I can help the Vorta," she declared earnestly. "I already have some idea what my counterpart might have done. It would still take a few weeks of work, but I'm certain I can crack the problem."

"So you've decided to help Weyoun," said John, unable to suppress a sigh. The prospect of losing Maya was not something he relished. "We'd miss you. I'd certainly miss you."

"I know. I... I only said I would think about it," she explained apologetically. "I need to consider all the options before giving my definitive answer. But there is one thing: we mustn't mention it to anyone, not even the other Alphans. It's very important that the Federation should hear nothing about this. They would simply try to use me against the Dominion."

"I can understand that," agreed John. He didn't want to get the Alphans involved in this Dominion-Federation war if he could avoid it. "What will you tell Tony?"

Her expression became more grave. "I don't know. I'll have to think of something."

John was sure Tony would stay with her; to lose Maya would be bad enough, but to lose both senior officers at once would be a terrible blow. He had come to rely on them ever since the original senior staff had been virtually wiped out, and he knew he would miss the gaiety the couple had added to the command staff.

"We should be leaving," said John finally. "Helena will be waiting at the launch pad."

He walked over to the door and Maya came with him. But before opening the door, he put his arm around her. "I'd rather you stayed with us, Maya," he said simply. "But if you want to go, I won't stop you."

Maya wrapped her arms around him and leaned her face on his shoulder. "Thank you, Commander."

"Evidently not a good day for talking to Metamorphs," said Tony laconically as he accompanied Nerys on their way back to Quark's.

Nerys laughed dryly, though she was furious at Odo for arguing with Tony, and not too pleased with Tony for rising to Odo's bait.

"Still, I guess I got what I wanted," continued Tony, looking down at the weapon he was now wearing at his belt. The two security officers had agreed on Odo's terms in the end -- there would be six armed Alphans, including Tony, but Tony was free to choose who would be armed. The rest of the Alphan weapons would be handed over only when the Alphans were ready to leave.

Despite her irritation at Tony for insulting Odo, Nerys looked at the weapon curiously. "Is that what you used to kill those Jem'Hadar? Can I see?"

Tony looked around the Promenade, evidently unsure that this was the place to be doing this, but then unhooked the weapon so that she could look at it. It was a very peculiar shape for a gun, more like the metal knuckle-guards the Cardassians had sometimes worn on the backs of their hands to beat Bajoran prisoners. The weapon was evidently activated by a button on the handle, and the lasers fired from a row of diodes on the front.

"It's very basic stuff, really," explained Tony. "One setting for 'knock 'em out' and one for 'blow 'em up'." He held the weapon to his chest and leaned towards her, lifting one eyebrow sinisterly. "Anyone you'd like me to rub out for you, lady?" he said, probably emulating a villain like the ones in Doctor Bashir's dreary 'James Bond' holoprograms.

Laughing politely, Nerys continued her way to Quark's and Tony followed, reattaching the gun to his belt. The bar was just starting its evening business; Morn was at his usual seat near the entrance and the Ferengi waiters were preparing for the rush hour when the day shift went off duty.

"Anyway, I'm really sorry about what happened earlier. I don't know what it is about Odo, but he just gets to me." Tony grinned apologetically and Nerys decided she could forgive him after all. Odo was another matter. "Here, I'll buy you a drink," proposed Tony as they walked up to the bar.

"At the Federation's expense?" said Nerys, sitting down on one of the stools.

Tony shrugged his shoulders. "I don't have any money. Besides, it's the intention that counts." He tried to wave Quark over, but the Ferengi was busy at the other end of the bar.

Nerys observed Tony's profile for a moment. "And what's the intention?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said with a half shrug. "Just being friendly. I mean, it's not like... well, we're just working together. But you're a nice girl; I don't want to mess things up with you and Odo."

Nerys stared at him as she realised what he was trying to say. It wasn't something she particularly wanted to put into words either. She was aware that he liked her, and his temper notwithstanding, she also found him attractive. But he was right, they were just working together.

Quark had finally responded to Tony's wave and came over to take their order. He was most uncharacteristically sullen and Nerys thought he gave her and Tony a strange look as he left to get their drinks. Remembering just how accurate the Ferengi's hearing was, she decided it would be sensible to change the subject.

"What are your plans for the rest of the evening?" she asked, before realising how the question might be interpreted.

Fortunately, Tony understood what she meant. "Now I have this weapons thing sorted out --" he patted the device at his belt "-- I need to round up my security team and let them know what's up. I've got a good idea who I want to back me up, and the rest can take it easy. It's-- it wasn't exactly smooth running being a security guard on Alpha."

"It's not exactly a peaceful job anywhere," remarked Nerys with a laugh.

"I guess not," agreed Tony. "It's funny, really. It just occurred to me how weird my life has become. I mean, I never thought the day would come when I would actually miss having the power to kill someone... And yet, I've felt weird all today because I didn't have my laser." He looked down at the weapon again. "It's very disturbing, really. I wasn't brought up like that. I guess it's something I picked up because I had to."

His remark instantly struck a chord with Nerys. "One of our modern Bajoran poets said 'The tragedy of war isn't death; it's the monsters it makes of the living'."

Those words always brought tears to her eyes; they reminded her of what she herself had become. But for the Cardassian Occupation, she would have been an artist or, given her lack of talent, at worst an artist's lady-in-waiting. Instead of that, she had joined the Resistance at twelve and had not laid down arms since.

"Well, I can't argue with your friend," said Tony with a wry grin. "We weren't exactly at war on Alpha -- not for longer than a few days at a time, at least -- but I think that's true. All that living on the edge, fighting aliens and stuff, being in a position of responsibility. It has really changed me. My parents would be ashamed; their astronaut son has turned into a policeman." He paused, perhaps pondering this thought. It only took a moment for his expression to brighten. "You wouldn't know this, but there were lots of jokes about Italian policemen. For instance, do you know why they always patrol in pairs?"

Nerys shook her head, though she suspected there was some punch line coming up.

"Because one can read and the other can write."

Nerys smiled. "You never stay serious very long, do you, Tony?"

"Nah. Like I said the other day, life's too short to be miserable all the time... Ah, at last," he said as Quark finally brought them their drinks. The Ferengi also gave them another funny look; the little troll had probably appointed himself the guardian of Odo's honour or something, thought Nerys irritably.

Tony also seemed to have noticed Quark's behaviour. He watched the Ferengi as he walked away. "He doesn't look very cheerful. Does he always look at his customers like that?"

"No. Only ones who buy me drinks," said Nerys humourlessly.

Tony laughed and sipped his coffee. "Talking about buying drinks, I think there's something you should know about my Alphan colleagues."

"And what's that?" Nerys was puzzled by the apparent seriousness of his statement. But looking at him, she noticed the telltale twinkle in his eye.

"They're terrible gossips," he declared smugly. "They've spent the last six years perfecting the art of ripping a person's reputation to shreds with a couple of well placed words, and they are obviously planning to continue this proud tradition here on Deep Space Nine." He took a deep breath after saying all that.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" she asked. She had a feeling the conversation was heading right back where it started.

"Hmm," he nodded. "They're talking about us -- you and me. See, all we had to do is work together and put in a presence in the Cafeteria and the whole of Alpha goes and gets the wrong idea."

"And what do you suggest we do about it?" she asked, leaning back against the bar and folding her arms.

Tony sighed, although he was still grinning. "Well, we can't avoid each other, that's for sure. We have a lot of work to do."

"Maybe we should just convince them of the solidity of our affection for our respective Shapeshifters." She paused as something occurred to her. "Though that might not be easy. Looks as though we've both managed to argue with them today."

"Yeah. Good point." He looked down into his coffee, as if to find some solution in the tiny cup. "That reminds me, I've been meaning to ask you if there's a tailor or a dressmaker on the station. I suppose it's rather unlikely nowadays..."

Nerys was surprised by the question. "No, there is a tailor's shop on the Promenade; it's up beyond the Infirmary. Why? Does your uniform need mending?" She looked him over as if to find some flaw.

"No. I thought I'd do Maya a favour. One of the only things she took with her when she left her planet was the dress she was wearing. She mentioned that it was falling to pieces and I thought it would be a nice idea if I could get someone to mend it for her. I saw her boxes come over this evening; I reckon I know which one her dress is in."

"That's a sweet idea!" Nerys was impressed; it seemed that Tony was as attentive as Odo when it came to the woman he loved. She hoped Maya would appreciate what a loving boyfriend she had.

"Well, actually, it's a cunning plan to get me back in her good books," he said with a grin. "Just in case I'm still in her bad books when she comes back."

The cross-shaped launch pad slowly lifted Eagle One to the Moon's surface. As soon as the platform was still, John engaged the thrusters and the Eagle blasted off in a cloud of Moon dust. The commander looked at his wife, strapped into the co-pilot's seat, and then at Maya, who was kneeling uncomfortably on the gangway in between them. Both women mustered a half-hearted smile, but John knew they were as sad as he was.

As the craft left the surface, the large, bright stars and planets of the Bajoran system came into view beyond the curve of the Moon's horizon, bathing the cockpit in a cold white light. The Eagle effected a wide turn to bring it back in the direction of Deep Space Nine, and the low, widely spread buildings of Moonbase Alpha reappeared in the cockpit windows. Helena had activated the external cameras, and they were able to watch Alpha beneath them as the Eagle swept, one last time, over the base.

Tony observed the models displayed in the tailor's window: all colourful women's clothes, but nothing he could imagine Maya wearing. He didn't find the fashions of the 24th century particularly appealing. So far, the only garment he had seen any woman wearing that he actually liked was Nerys' uniform. But he wasn't here to buy anything anyway.

"Ah, someone badly in need of a good tailor, I see," said a high voice beside him.

"Huh?" Startled, Tony turned and found a large reptilian creature in a maroon suit standing in the doorway of the shop. He was quite unlike any alien Tony had seen before, with dark grey skin and ornate ridges running across his forehead, jaw and neck.

"Only joking, of course," said the man, looking Tony over with undisguised interest. "Although your uniform is very unusual. Especially the pants."

"Pants?" repeated Tony, before it sank in that whatever translator they had on this station was using American terminology. He followed the alien's gaze and looked down at his beige trousers. "Oh yeah. They're, uh, bell-bottoms."

"Hmm. Very attractive," said the tailor. Tony wondered if the creature was talking about him or his uniform.

To change the subject, he extended his hand. "I'm Tony Verdeschi. First Officer of Alpha," he explained.

"I am Garak," said the alien politely, though he didn't shake Tony's hand. "And I am a Cardassian, in case you're wondering. I gather there weren't too many of us on Earth in the 20th century."

"So you're a Cardassian. I've been hearing a lot about your species," said Tony with a grin.

"If Major Kira is the one who has been doing the telling, I must warn you that for some inexplicable reason she appears to be prejudiced against my people. So I shouldn't pay too much attention to her opinion... Now is there anything I can do for you, Mr Verdeschi?"

Is there anyone on this station who isn't gossiping about me and Nerys? thought Tony, though he said, "I... ah, I have a dress that needs repairing... It belongs to my girlfriend, Maya."

"Knowing humans as I do, I didn't actually think it was yours, Mr Verdeschi." Garak placed his hand on Tony's back and guided him into the boutique. "Do step into my shop and let us see what we can do for your lady-friend's dress..."

It was Julian and Miles' customary darts night, and they were having dinner in Quark's when Alan Carter came to join them. The three men exchanged a desultory conversation about replicated food, but Julian noticed that Miles was observing Alan curiously.

The meal completed, Miles finally remarked, "You look really familiar, Alan. You remind me of someone..."

The Alphan pilot was visibly just as surprised as Julian. "I shouldn't. We haven't met before; we managed to miss each other completely when you were over on Alpha."