Chapter 1 - Baptism by Fire

-Baptism by Fire

It was a gray San Francisco morning. There was a low fog hanging over the Golden Gate Bridge at this early hour. For most, this was a good day to stay in bed, propped up with a good padd. However, for one eager young ensign, this morning gave him a burst of energy.

Daniel Holmes loved a challenge. And if there was a good one out there, Deep Space Nine was a good bet.

It had been under Federation control for only two years, but it had done a lot to stabilize the war zone that was Bajor. Income from the Bajoran Wormhole hadn’t hurt, either. But there was a lot to be said for a race that had peace, but not a whole lot of idea with what to do with it. Their so-called ‘provisional government’ was more a hindrance than a help at times, and spoke clearly to the people that no one knew just what would make for a good permanent government.

Getting up with energy for the first time in a long time, it made Holmes feel really, truly alive. To look at him, you would see the picture of Stafleet. A young-looking twenty-two year old with thick brown hair on top of a face that held inquisitive eyes and high cheekbones. He was on the small side for height, but made up for it with how he carried himself. Even those who hated to see such a young man rise so quickly had to admit that they could put their trust in him.

There was just that one incident.

I should never have been commended for that. I managed to save only three lives out of more than one hundred fifty, not counting that alien ship. I wish people could forget that. I wish I could forget.

Commendations, a promotion, and a chance to rise quickly. All things Holmes wanted. But not for what he did. His role had been just prevalent enough to warrant attention; he was never conceited enough to feel like he was a hero. The problem was, other people did, and they never let him forget it.

But maybe, in a place so ridden with problems, he COULD forget. There were bigger fish to fry, and the accomplishments of some rookie phaser jockey might just go unnoticed. And with the distraction of doing so many different jobs, he might just be able to forget himself.

On DS9, Holmes would be working in many different capacities, learning from many different people. He’d resisted the urge to read up on them, having long learned that first impressions of people you cannot hope to change are best learned first hand. These people weren’t an enemy he was out to destroy; they were colleagues, and he’d have to find a way to work with them.

That knowledge secure in his mind, he put on his uniform, straightened the pip on his collar, and made sure his boots shined. The thing about first impressions was that you weren’t only making them about other people; they were also observing you.

Going to his terminal, Holmes locked it down to prevent anyone from using it. He scooped up his Starfleet-issue duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, cast a last look into his apartment, and shut the door. He hoped to shut the door on his old life as well. The Guardian was his past; Starfleet Academy was his past. His future lay ahead, and it began on Deep Space Nine.
--

The shuttle ride took more than twenty-four hours. Holmes had read every padd he could find, took inventory of his belongings again and again, and then finally retired to his quarters. It seemed like he was just about to fall asleep when the door chime shook him out of his trance.

“Come in,” he called, getting up and straightening his uniform. Good instincts, as it turned out. It was a superior officer on the other side of the door.

“At ease,” said the tall man. “May I come in?”

“Yes, sir. Can I get you something, sir?”

“No, thank you, ensign. I’ve just come to give you a quick run down of the situation on Deep Space Nine.”
_

“…So, you’ll report to Commander Sisco at first, but he may direct you elsewhere. You’ll have a chance to make command decisions; to learn science and medical skills; to reinforce your security skills; and to learn about engineering. You, however, will not have the opportunity to work on your piloting skills. At least, not often. That said, I would like you to take the helm for the rest of this trip. Should we run into any issues, you‘ll be in command, and I‘ll be observing. You may not ask questions of me unless you wish to relegate your authority. I can advise you, however, in a command capacity.”

Holmes flinched inwardly- he’d hated any kind of driving on earth, and he’d been studiously avoiding piloting. The commander of the shuttle wasn’t going to let him off the hook, either. Holmes had known this had been coming.

“Understood.”
--

If the other cadets could see him now, Holmes would have been mortified. He was sweating already and they were only going at half-impulse! He was definitely out of his element at the helm. But it was part of Starfleet that could not be avoided.

“Deep Space Nine is on scanners. No anomalies or spatial rifts detected… I’m reading a number of vessels. Bajoran, Federation, and…”
The officer at OPS looked up, were etched on his face. Aside from Holmes and the Commander, there was only the rookie cadet at OPS. He looked uneasy, and it took a nod from Holmes to get the young man to finish his sentence.
“-and Cardassian.”

Holmes stood up from the center command seat quickly. He was uncomfortable sitting there with a higher ranking officer on the bridge as it was. This was his excuse to get up and move.
“Mr. Larson, bring us to yellow alert. Do they have their shields raised?”

Larson checked, immediately responding with a “ Yes, sir.”

Holmes rubbed his chin, forcing himself not to look at the Commander.
“Hail DS9. Put it on main viewer.”

After the happy chirp that signaled a successful comm link, Holmes drew himself up to his full height and addressed the Bajoran woman on screen. She looked hassled and tired, as if under stress.
“This is the Danube-class vessel USS Hudson. Do you need assistance?”

Holmes could hear the sound of klaxon alarms in the background. But this flashing red light that went along with a red alert status gave him the answer he needed.

“We’d appreciate that, Hudson. We are dispatching one of our own runabouts to assist. The Cardassian vessel has been hijacked by angry Bajorans. We would like the vessel disabled, not destroyed. They have taken Cardassian hostages.”

Holmes nodded. “Acknowledged, DS9. We will establish a commlink with your runabout and the Bajorans on the Cardassian vessel.”

After a terse nod, the Bajoran woman broke the commlink. Holmes nodded to Larson, who patched him through to the Cardassian vessel. At the same time, a hail came from another runabout.

“Put them both onscreen. Split the screen and overlay tactical on the bottom.”

“Aye, sir.”

On the left side of the screen there was a Starfleet vessel. Holmes could see three people on board. The one addressing him was a thickly built male wearing the black in gold tunic of either engineering or security. The pips on his collar ranked him at lieutenant. One of the others had her back to Holmes, so all he could see was a long, dark-haired ponytail. The other man was medical personnel, judging by the pips on his collar and the medkit at his feet. He gave an amiable smile and nod.

“Hudson, this is the Rio Grande. Are you receiving us?”

“We are receiving you, Rio Grande. I am Ensign Holmes. We have the Bajorans on subspace. Will you allow me time for negotiation?”

“Affirmative, Ensign. But if talk fails, we’ll begin tactical maneuvers in 2 minutes.”

“Understood. We have you patched in.”

Holmes gave the commander a look, asking silently if he wanted to take control. The commander raised his eyebrows and gave Holmes a curt nod, indicating for him to continue. Holmes nodded slightly in return, conveying that he’d heard the unspoken order. He had already transferred helm controls to the command station when he first took the conn.

“Commander Graves, take tactical. Have phasers and shields on standby. Prepare to activate on my mark.”

Graves swiftly took the tactical seat at the front right of the runabout. With a few swift taps, he had powered up the defensive capabilities of the Hudson.

“Mr. Larson, break subspace silence. Hail the Cardassian vessel.”

A tall Bajoran male stood uncertainly in front of the screen.
“What do you want?” He demanded in a gravelly voice.

Holmes clapped his hands behind his back. “My name is Ensign Daniel Holmes. I’m here to ask you to power down your shields and release the Cardassian hostages.”

“Why would we want to do that? We have no quarrel with you, Federation. We would regret having to open fire on you.”

“Yes, that would be regrettable. But I have no wish to fire on you, but you need to show me some good faith.”

“Why do we need any ‘good faith’?”

“You are outnumbered, and even if you weren’t, firing on your allies is not a wise course of action. Now, I understand your position, but -”

The commlink was terminated. Immediately, Holmes ordered the shields raised in the weapons powered.
“Beginning evasive maneuver Delta-four. Mr. Graves, target their shield generator and weapons array. Phasers only.”

The dragonfly shaped Cardassian ship was soon under fire from both Federation runabouts. The Rio Grande aimed for propulsion, immediately crippling the ship’s ability to go to warp.

Not to be outdone, the Bajoran terrorists returned fire. The Hudson was rocked by disruptor burst on its starboard side.

“Shields at 86%!”

“Our phasers are striking non-vital areas. Their shields are at 92%.”

Holmes turn the problem over in his mind while the Rio Grande drew Bajoran fire. This runabout was ill equipped for a fight against the Kelvin class Cardassian chip. Even two against one the runabouts might be overmatched. That left tactics.

“Mr. Graves, continue to aim for their shields. Give me a one second phaser burst, followed by a photon torpedo. When the torpedo reaches the edge of their shields, I want you to detonate it.”

Graves raised his salt and pepper eyebrows -this was a rather obscured trick, but in this situation it was probably the most solid tactic they could rely on. The theory here was that the phasers opened a small hole in the shields, or at least weakened them. The shockwave of a torpedo being destroyed before detonation should do massive damage. The gamble here was that this could lead to full destruction of the enemy ship.

The torpedo detonated spectacularly in a shower of phaser fire and fragments of metal. The Bajoran commandeered ship rocked. It’s shields had taken a pounding just now. The situation being what it was, with destroying the ship not yet being an option, they couldn’t risk giving full strength to the assault. But at the same time, they couldn’t hold back very much or they would be destroyed instead.

“Their shields are down!” Larson’s voice Can from OPS.

“Can you detect any Cardassian life signs?”

Larson studied his readings for a moment, then looked up to meet Holmes’ eyes. “Yes, sir. I have six Cardassian life signs.”

“Get them out of there, Mr. Larson. Send three to the Rio Grande and put the other three on our ship behind a force field.”
Holmes looked to the view screen.
“Did you copy that, Rio Grande?”

“We copy, Hudson. We’re prepared to receive three Cardassians.”

Holmes walked over to Larson’s station, looking at the readings. The Cardassians materialized in the back. They were bound at the wrists and unconscious. They were all bloodied or otherwise injured. At a glance, Holmes estimated their injuries were non-fatal. Good. They didn’t have a medic on board, and he hadn’t yet covered that in any sort of detail in his command-track training.

“They’re dead in the water, sir,” Larson informed Holmes, sounding both proud and worried. Holmes offered him a smile and a pat on the shoulder. He was only a few years older than the cadet, and had been in his place not too long ago.

“We still need to retake that ship… Hail Deep Space Nine and ask for them to beam security personnel to us. How many Bajorans are on that ship?”

“…About a dozen, sir.”

Holmes eyes danced as he had an idea.
“Contact Deep Space Nine and have security arrange cells for twelve incoming prisoners. We’re going to beam them directly into the brig. Give security a minute to-”

“Sir, they’ll have shields in a few seconds!” Larson interrupted.

Holmes made a snap decision. He had no time to think about the words bursting from his lips. In one motion he grabbed a phaser and stepped over the unconscious group of Cardassians.
“Beam me over to the Cardassian ship. We can’t risk firing on them again; they’d never survive it. I’ll lower their shields from inside. The second the shields go down, I want you to beam them to the station’s brig.”

Holmes stepped onto the transporter pad.
“Energize.”
--

Holmes materialized just outside of the bridge. He could hear movement and guessed that there were maybe six on the bridge. Engineering was likely to be equally populated. So which way to go…

Engineering is more vulnerable to sabotage. I could always blow a conduit or something down there.
Engineering it is.

He jogged down the corridors as quickly as he dared. Luckily, on a ship of this size there would be little chance of accidental you running into a Bajoran. It was more likely that he would find them and get the drop on them.

There’s no sign that they’ve detected me. Their internal sensors must be down. Best to keep them off my trail.

Just then, a Bajoran stepped off a turbolift. Holmes was equally surprised, but his phaser was already drawn and he took the Bajoran down with a shot to the chest. Moving quickly, Holmes stripped the man of his weapons. He looked at the turbolift, and decided to send the Bajorans a little surprise.
--

Former Major Dugan watched his people rapidly try to regain control of the ship. This was his first time on the bridge of a Cardassian ship as anything but a prisoner. He had known that this act of desperation would warrant retaliation, but he thought for sure that Deep Space Nine’s runabouts would be no match for Cardassian warship. Apparently, he was just as guilty of underestimation of the Federation as the Cardassians were of the Bajorans.

He needed to rally his troops quickly. There was already talk of surrender. And I just would not do. Not after all they’d done to get this far.

He heard the sound of the turbolift coming in was looking forward to some good news from the engineer he had just sent down surveyed the damage.

When the turbolift doors opened, however, they at first glance appeared to be empty. As one of his officers walked over to investigate, he saw the contents of the turbolift and began to shout a warning.

Too late. The object in the turbolift exploded, throwing his officer tumbling end over end backward into the bridge.

When the dust cleared, the turbo lift had exploded in a fantastic shower of sparks and debris. The twisted remains of the phaser set to overload sat innocently in the middle of the damaged equipment. Several key relays had been damaged, causing a cascade effect through the systems. There would be one opportunity to stop the effect.

“Are internal sensors functioning?!” Dugan demanded. He knew his crew had been frazzled by the external attacks and the internal sabotage both, but he expected them to push that aside as he had.

“No sir, we’re working blind!”

Stifling a curse, Dugan headed to engineering. Being a terrorist, he knew the most vulnerable points of a ship were almost always in engineering and he would have bet his best earring that that was where the saboteur was headed.
--

Holmes peaked cautiously into engineering, withdrawing his head just in time as Bajoran sidearm fire threatened to decapitate him. Holmes fired a few shots blindly into the room. He had only a survival knife and a Bajoran sidearm to work with, sense his phaser had given its life to take out the turbo lift.

There’s too damn many of them. But maybe I can distract them.

Holmes held to tricorder out and used it to scan for essential ship systems. He needed to do something to draw them out of engineering without actually shooting them. Having never used a Bajoran weapon before, he wasn’t sure he had it on its stun setting.

The ship rocked suddenly, but not violently. Some part of Holmes registered that they had locked on to with a tractor beam.

Good. That’ll give them something else to think about while I finish my business. They’ve got shields, but no weapons or propulsion if my readings are correct. That leaves them in a very compromising position.

Hearing shouts of attack, Holmes ran down the corridor, narrowly avoiding a throng of angry Bajorans hot on his heals, sidearms at the ready.

He turned a corner and ran right into another Bajoran. This was the one who had been on the view screen. Holmes felt a fist connect with his jaw. He crumbled, but managed to tackle his opponent at the knees.
-

Dugan brought an elbow down on Holmes’ back. Holmes grunted, twisted, and drove a knee into the Bajoran’s kidney. That allowed him to get free and take two strides, but Dugan’s foot lashed out and caught Holmes. His world swam as he hit the metal-plated floor nearly jaw first. He tasted copper in his mouth and felt a gash on his lip. He rolled over on his back and kicked both feet out, hitting the Bajoran in the sternum. He rolled over and took off from a crouch, but was immediately tackled by another Bajoran. No sooner had he fought that one off than another one piled on.

A pistol phaser was at his head, along with three others at his back. Holmes held his hands up, gulping.

“You’ll make a fine hostage for the ones we need to replace,” Dugan told him in a surprisingly kind voice. “We don’t wish you harm, Federation. All we want is this ship.”

“You’re going about this all wrong. I don’t know how you got control of this ship, but you aren’t going anywhere. Even with hostages. Your ship is crippled. And if you take me hostage, the entire Federation will come down on you. But if we work together, we can end this crisis”

Dugan could almost agree to the logic in that statement. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and nearly defenseless. In two minutes, main power would be offline. Not to mention the tractor beam that was persistently trying to lock onto them.

Now is the time to become martrys. If we self-destruct, then no one will ever know how many Cardassians we killed. We’ll send a message to Bajorans everywhere that they no longer need to cower. They are a free people, and the destruction of this ship will prove it!

-
This was bad. Holmes knew he had to do something. But with three weapons trained on him, how could he escape.

One Bajoran collared him and dragged him up from the ground, hauling him to his feet. Holmes gave him a nod of gratitude. He saw a console off to the side, and decided to gamble. He feigned a weariness that he didn’t actually feel in any way, and slammed shoulder-first into the console, managing to look dazed. His Bajoran ‘friend’ helped him up again. As he did, Holmes stole a glance at the console.

That phaser overloading did more damage than I thought. In one minute, they’ll be out of power. And I’ve got most of the crew here, guarding me. Which means they can only be fixing the problem from the bridge. How can I use this?
For now, I’ve got to keep him talking.

“Your shields are up, so you can’t beam me out. Why don’t you try negotiating? I’ve still got my commbadge on…”

Dugan nodded to Holmes, allowing him to tap his commbadge.
“Holmes to Hudson.”

Graves’ voice came back across the slightly static-y line.
“We hear you, Ensign. Go ahead.”

“I’ve been taken hostage by the Bajoran group. They’re going to negotiate terms for my release. I planned to escape, but there’s just too many of them. However, I recommend moving at least 100,000 kilometers away, as their engines may be unstable, if my tricorder readings are correct. Either way, their ship is heavily damaged. We all may need an emergency beam out, if we‘re all to survive. And-”

“You’re wasting your time, ensign,” Dugan cut in. “I’m aware of the countdown to main power failure, too. And your delay tactic won’t work.”

Holmes put on a look of innocence. “I’m doing what I can to ensure the survival of my people. Which is what you should be considering, too.”
Amatuer. He just told them about the weakened state of their ship. I was wondering how to communicate that.

“Here are the terms, Starfleet: This ship will self-destruct unless you move out of transporter range within twenty seconds. Move- now!”

Holmes’ jaw dropped in utter surprise. “What do you gain from that? You lose the ship; your men; and you take no Cardassians with you! There’s not even any honor in that!”

The Bajoran closed his eyes. “No. But we earn a place in history. As martrys.”
He wheeled around to head back to the bridge, leaving Holmes without any good answers to the question of survival.

I had planned to take one of his men hostage until I could be beamed out, but it’s obvious he doesn’t care about that. I need to do something…in twenty seconds, their shields will drop.

There was one option that Holmes could see.
“Holmes to Rio Grande.”

“This is O’Brien; go ahead Holmes.”

“Are you carrying a doctor, Mr. O’Brien?”

“Yes, we are.”

“Good.”

The line cut out, but not before the cry of battle was heard by the crew.

“Damnit, we need that shield down now!” O’Brien swore, his big fist slamming against the console.

“I may have an answer, Chief,” Lt. Jadzia Dax said, calmly but efficiently. “We can run a pulse along our own tractor beam and into their shields. That should disrupt them long enough for a transport.”

O’Brien considered the idea, noting it’s merits quickly, but just as quickly noting it’s downside. Which was:
“Who do we transport? We’ll only get one shot. We either get the Bajorans or we get the human.”

This was the time when all anyone could do was bow their heads. Starfleet Academy taught you to never leave behind your comrades. But they also taught you that good relations with other species were the only thing the Federation has to truly rely on. In this case, deserting the twelve Bajorans to save one Ensign would have cast a large shadow on Bajor’s budding entry into the Federation.

Chief O’Brien made the call. “O’Brien to Hudson.”

“Hudson here. Go ahead.”

“Prepare to transport the Bajorans on the Bridge. We’ll handle the group near Engineering.”

“…” A heavy pause, followed by; “Understood. On your mark, Rio Grande.”

O’Brien readied the transport controls. “Dax, is the pulse ready?”

She nodded once, firmly. “Yes, chief.”

“Fire.”
--

Another blast rocked the embattled ship, sending showers of sparks flying as consoles ruptured. Holmes had been lucky- he was in the middle of four Bajorans, all of whom took the brunt of the explosion. He checked on them, noted that they would live, then ran for the bridge. He was ready to die, but that didn’t mean he’d roll over and accept it if he didn’t have to.

He didn’t notice the Bajorans disappearing in his wake.
-

The last shockwave sped up the cascade effect. Dugan turned to see Holmes enter the bridge. He fired his weapon, singing Holmes’ thick brown hair as the young Ensign combat-rolled to the cover of a bulkhead.

That was the last thing Dugan would see as a transporter beam seized him.
-

Holmes got up, wondering what had happened. He was alone.

“THIRTY SECONDS UNTIL CRITICAL OVERLOAD. AUTO-DESTRUCT INITIATED.”

The cold, dispassionate Cardassian computer sounded Holmes’ death knell. He exhaled, happy to have completed his mission. But he was going to die on a cold, foreign bridge. He looked at the last working console, to call up the image on the view screen. He cursed.

“Graves’ to Holmes. Respond!”

“Holmes here,” Dan responded absently.

“Holmes, you’ve got to get out of there! That ship is going to explode. Lower the shields and let us transport you off!”

Holmes tone was low and regretful as he informed Graves that “I can’t do that. We’re too close the station. If the ship explodes now, it’ll take DS9 with it. I’m going to pilot it away with maneuvering thrusters.”

Holmes was already doing that, as the computer told him that he had ten seconds to live.
Ten seconds to save two thousand innocent lives.

If you have to go, that’s the way to do it.

Without thinking, Holmes diverted power from shields into thrusters. He pushed the ship as hard as he dared. He heard it creak with protest in the last few seconds of it’s life.

100,000...200,000...300,000 kilometers. That’s the best I can do. Anymore and I’ll blow the ship myself.

A console directly above his head exploded, and a piece of metal playing hit Holmes hard enough to knock him out.
-

The explosion was movie-violent. The stars themselves seemed to shudder as the Cardassian warship exploded from the inside out, sending debris hurtling in all directions. There were hardly even trace elements of the ship left.

Robert Graves swore mightily, thumping a hand against the command chair that had been recently vacated by the man who had given his life to save a group of terrorists. Graves had lost friends and even new recruits before. But never to save the lives of terrorists!

“Set a course for Deep Space Nine, Mr. Larson. We’ll…we’ll report in person. I’ll go collect Holmes’ personal effects.”

Larson stiffened his face, although a tear or two betrayed his efforts.
“Aye, sir. Plotting a course and laying it in. Half-impulse.”
--
--

The light were too damned bright, Holmes thought. Was this death? Heaven? Hell? Somewhere else?

Then he smelled a strong disinfectant and felt a just-barely-uncomfortable bed beneath him. It wasn’t hell; it was a sickbay.

He sat up with a start, but plopped back down as that hurt far too much. He repeated the gesture, this time slowly. Gradually, he made it to a sitting position without much naseau, and a dull headache.

“Where-”

“You’re on Deep Space Nine,” came a soothing voice. Holmes squinted, looking toward who was speaking to him. He recognized him as the doctor from the Rio Grande.

“I’m going to make it?” Holmes asked.

“How do you feel?”

“Like hell.”

“That’s a sure sign you’ll live,” the doctor chuckled. “I’m Julian Bashir; Chief Medical Officer.”

“Ensign Daniel Holmes; I was just assigned to Deep Space Nine when all hell broke loose out there.”
Holmes stood up, offering his hand to Bashir. “Thank you. You saved my life, I assume?”

“Oh, heavens no!” the Doctor exclaimed. “Actually, you have Chief O’Brien and Lieutenant Dax to thank for that. Between the two of them, they managed to localize your commbadge and beam you out. Now then, if you’re feeling up to it, your crew is waiting. I daresay they were near tears. You must be well liked.”
--

Graves had shaken his hand stoically, informing Holmes that he had a bright future, and that he would put him down for another commendation.

Larson was more shy, but Holmes made sure to go out of his way to shake the cadet’s hand and tell him that his future was equally promising.

“Just learn from my mistake,” Holmes had said. “Don’t get yourself blown up and you’ll be okay.”

After all that was said and done, Holmes was summoned to Ops. Bashir offered to walk him up, and Holmes gratefully accepted. Deep Space Nine was big, and the company was welcome, even if Holmes had known where he was going.

What awaited him was a small group. The first to meet him was Major Kira Nerys.

“I wanted to thank you for saving those Bajorans. I can assure you they’ll be dealt with on Bajor. It…means a lot to have someone go out on a limb like that.”

Holmes managed a tired smile. “It was my pleasure. Right up until that explosion thing.”

They laughed for a moment, then Kira backed off with Bashir. Next Holmes met with the two who had saved him.

“Glad you were in one piece when we got ya,” O’Brien told him while shaking his hand. “We weren’t sure we caught you in time.”

“Thank you again for taking the risk to save me. I owe you one already, Chief,” Holmes intoned, amused.

The last one waiting for him was Lieutenant Dax. Holmes drew in a breath and straightened up.
“It seems I owe you on as well, Lietenant.”
And boy, do I not mind a bit! If you’ve got to owe someone, then this is the way to go!

“Call me Jadzia,” she offered. “I’m glad you made it, Daniel. Welcome aboard.”

His old girl shyness suddenly front and center, Holmes fumbled over his words at first, but finally managed to spit out a coherent sentence.
“Thank you. It’s good to be here. I look forward to working with you.”

At that moment, the doors of a raised office swished open. A large African American man bounded down the steps, a wide grin on his face.
“Ensign Daniel Holmes, I presume?”

Holmes drew up formally, hands behind his back.
“Yes, sir.”

“At ease, Ensign. Let me welcome you aboard. I hope you enjoy your stay here on Deep Space Nine.”

Holmes gave a courteous nod. “I’m sure I will, Commander. Thank you.”

“I insist you join me for dinner later, after you’ve rested. Not to brag, but I’ve never had anyone walk away from one of my meals unsatisfied.’

“I’ll show him to his quarters, Benjamin,” Dax offered. “Then I can come back and help you and Jake get ready for dinner?”

Sisco grinned. “Looking for an invitation to dinner, old man?”

Dax smiled back, and Holmes’ breath caught in his chest.
“Always, Benjamin.”

With that, Dax led the way out of Ops. Holmes was too tired now, but he was certain he’d be talking with this lovely female again.

I’ve just pitted my wits against terrorists. This challenge will be far more interesting. I think I’m going to like it here.

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