"Quite well, before he became an admiral," replied Marshall.

"And now?"

"Now? Not at all."

Any further speculation as to what Marshall had meant was postponed as the door slid open and Ross entered. Kira braced herself. Her relationship with Admiral Bill Ross could only be described as cautious at best. Though their dealings had become less tense since the end of the war with the Dominion, Kira had always harbored a secret feeling that any visit by Bill Ross was bound to bring trouble.

"Nerys," said Ross by way of greeting. "I hope you’re feeling better." He paused eyeing Marshall speculatively, "John."

Kira and Marshall exchanged a brief glance. First names, thought Kira, this isn’t good. Ross never reverted to first names unless he was looking for a favor.

"We are both fine, thank you.," replied Kira. "We were just saying that it was quite a coincidence you just happened to be in the area."

Ross motioned for them to sit. "Actually, we were scheduled to rendezvous with the freighter you assisted. So the coincidence was that you happened to have been in the area."

"Mr. Marshall mentioned you were on your way to DS Nine. I’m assuming the freighter or it’s contents have something to do with us?"

"All in good time, colonel. First things first."

Kira glanced at Marshall, who remained silent, apparently lost in the contemplation of his fingernails.

"It has come to the attention of Starfleet Intelligence," said Ross. "That over the last few months a series of disappearances have been occurring throughout the Alpha Quadrant."

"Kidnapping is hardly our specialty, admiral."

"These apparently aren’t kidnappings, colonel. In each instance the person enters a room or a turbolift and is simply never seen again. No demands have been made. No bodies found."

"And apparently no connections between the victims?" asked Marshall.

"Only one. In each instance, someone who resembles a former staff member of DS Nine is seen at or near the site at the time of the disappearance."

"The same person," asked Marshall, "Or does the identity change with each instance?"

"It’s always the same person." Ross turned to Kira. "That’s where you come in, colonel."

"Excuse me?"

"It’s Odo, or rather someone who is impersonating Odo."

Kira snorted. "Of course it’s an impostor. You know as well as I do Odo’s still in the Gamma Quadrant."

"We’ve been in contact with the Dominion," agreed Ross, "Just to be on the safe side. Sources there confirm that Odo has been on a tour of Dominion holdings for the last three months."

"Not in the Link?" asked Kira surprised at the uneasiness she suddenly felt welling up inside her. She had always supposed Odo would only leave the Link for one reason and that was to come home. He is home, she chided herself. Why shouldn’t he be free to move around as he saw fit? She fought down the old and by now familiar internal debate. Now was not the time.

"No, but the Founders are disturbed by the idea of someone or something impersonating one of their own - especially when it involves suspicious behavior."

"Oh, I’m sure they are," muttered Kira.

"I’m sorry, admiral," said Marshall. "Except for the very tenuous link between the colonel and the former chief of security on the station, I don’t really see what this has to do with us."

"The Founders feel, and Starfleet agrees, that the situation demands a special investigative team to find out what’s really happening and put a stop to it."

"And we’re your team?" asked Kira. "You really expect the two of us to be able to solve this?"

"With a little help."

"Help? From who?"

"The Founders have sent their own investigator to assist in this matter. I assured them you would be fully cooperative." Ross pressed a button on the table top controls. The door slip open and a tall, thin figure wearing a Bajoran uniform entered.

Odo.

"In your dreams, Jack," she replied. "How are you feeling?"

"As though the roof caved in on me. What happened?"

"The roof caved in on you. Well, a ceiling panel to be exact. You’re lucky. It could have been a lot worse."

"Where’s Gus?"

She jerked her head toward the other side of the room. "Playing with his new toy."

"What?" Jack, still bleary eyed, gazed across the room to see Gus contemplating a large container of dark fluid that sat on the table. "What the hell is that?"

Gus looked up and nodded in Jack’s direction. "I don’t know for sure, Jack. But I think it’s our ghost."

Jack crossed the room on unsteady feet, leaning on Judy for support. "Pull the other one Gus, that leg’s long enough."

"I’m serious, Jack. When that light panel came down, this thing were on top of it."

"Why didn’t you kill it? That was the whole point. Find it and kill it."

"No sir. You wanted to find it, identify it and then kill it. We ain’t identified it yet."

"Gus.."

"Well, look at it, Jack. It don’t look well. I’m guessin ole Kroloff got lucky when he started shootin up the place."

"And just how the hell would you know it doesn’t look well? Have you ever in your life seen anything like this before?"

"No. But I got my suspicions…."

"You’re suspicions. You’re habit of picking up strays is more like it. What if it’s dangerous? Gus, if I told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, one of these days you’re gonna wake up dead on account of one of your strays and then where will you be?"

"It’s not dangerous. Hell, if it wanted to kill us, it had plenty of opportunity to do so a fore now."

"Well," said Judy. "Now that everything’s back to normal, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just head back to the bridge and see how Lilly is getting along."

"You just keep that thing away from me."

"Fine."

Judy could still hear them arguing halfway down the corridor. Entering the bridge, she sighed, thankful for the peace and quiet.

Not at all sure how to deal with the myriad of emotions that had flashed through her since leaving the ward room, she had settled on anger. Anger was an old friend. Since taking over command of the station, she had little occasion to use anger. Patience and a calm persistence worked best when you sat in the big chair.

She glanced briefly at the stranger at her side. She found she had a hard time looking at him. She had seen that face all too often in her mind’s eye and she felt somehow betrayed to see it now, knowing it did not belong on that being.

"So who are you really?" she asked abruptly.

He sighed. She hated him doing that. He folded his arms across his chest. She hated him even more.

"We’ve been over this before, colonel. There’s no point in you asking my name because you know as well as I, we do not have names. There’s no point in your wanting to know what I really look like. I’m not Odo, I freely admit that. I am simply here to help. And believe me, I already regret it. Admiral Ross…"

"Oh, I know very well what Admiral Ross said. But I want the truth and I want to hear it from you."

"Very well." He paused as though gathering his thoughts. "As you are no doubt aware, there are those who see conflicts such as the recent war between our two quadrants as an opportunity to promote their own agendas. Whether their motives are power, planets or profit, they thrive on the chaos war provides."

"And?"

"When we became aware there was someone in the Alpha Quadrant not only impersonating a Founder, but doing so in a highly suspicious manner…"

"Odo never considered himself Founder."

"He is one of us, colonel. That makes him a Founder whether he calls himself one or not."

"If you would like for me to leave you two alone…" volunteered Marshall.

"Not at all, Mr. Marshall," replied the false Odo. "Where was I? Of course, when we became aware someone in the Alpha Quadrant was impersonating - one of our own - and doing so in a highly suspicious manner it occurred to us it may be an attempt to, in some way, upset the fragile balance of peace. A peace neither of us is prepared to lose. Do you not agree, Mr. Marshall?"

"I concede it is a possibility. However, have you considered the impersonation of Odo, in a highly suspicious manner, may also be an attempt to lure the real Odo back to the Alpha Quadrant in order to purse what some might see as their own brand of justice."

"What?" said Kira.

"As you are no doubt aware, there are those who consider his return to the Link to have been too little, too late."

"But that’s preposterous!"

"Granted lives were saved when he ended the war, colonel, but there are those who cannot see past the lives lost while our noble Mr. Odo sat by waiting to make his grand gesture. And as they cannot go into the Gamma Quadrant to confront him, the next best thing is to lure him back here. Do you not agree, sir?"

"I too concede it as a possibility."

"Which," said Marshall, "Would explain why you have taken on this particular appearance. You intend to act as a decoy."

"Very good, Mr. Marshall. You are correct. If the purpose behind all these disappearances is to provoke another war, my presence in the Alpha Quadrant will help prove the Dominion was not involved. If, as Mr. Marshall theorized, the idea is to lure the real Odo into the Alpha Quadrant in order to assassinate him, I will act as a decoy. It’s a pity you never had direct dealing with the real Odo."

"And how would you know that?" asked Kira.

"In order to be able to pass myself off as Odo, it became necessary to, how shall I put this, borrow his memories for awhile."

"What do you mean, borrow, his memories?"

"Dax would understand," replied Odo. "The real Odo gave me his memories just before he left. We both agreed it was for the best."

"So you know everything the real Odo knows?" asked Marshall.

"I know enough."

"I do not like this," muttered Kira. "I do not like this at all."

Thankfully, the burden of command allowed her to delay having to face what she dreaded. They had been met at the air lock by DS Nine’s First Officer and Starfleet Liaison, Commander Brian Landis, looking as he always did, short, stout, and with a perpetual pained expression on his face, as though his shoes pinched. To her relief, Landis had a laundry list of urgent items that required her immediate attention. Once introductions had been made, Marshall had whisked their guest away and she was free to retreat to her office and immerse herself in other matters.

She was not sure how long she had sat there going over the endless reports and administrative minutia that was her job before she bothered to glance up. When she did, she saw Marshall emerge from the turbolift. He was carrying two data PADDS. He crossed Ops. to speak briefly to Vonda Lek, Chief of Station Engineering, handing her one of the PADDS, and then continued toward her office. Catching his eye as he climbed the steps, she waived him in.

"Well?" she asked. This was the first opportunity they had found to discuss the situation without an audience.

"Unless you know of some way to verify his story, other than just calling the Dominion on subspace and asking that is," said Marshall as he sat in the chair opposite her. "My suggestion, with reservations, is we must operate under the assumption that our Mr. Odo is telling the truth. Do you know of some way to verify his story?"

"No. I wish I did."

"Neither do I. The one thing we can verify, however, are the reported disappearances Admiral Ross told us about." He handed her the PADD. "Here you will find a list of four somewhat mysterious disappearances. All concerning individuals who apparently went home one day never to be seen again. In each instance, someone was seen at or near the location just prior to the disappearance. Someone who appeared to be Odo. Keep in mind these are the only reported instances we are aware of that meet all three criteria. The number of just plain old disappearances is staggering, too staggering to consider at this stage in the investigation."

"And there’s nothing else these people have in common?"

"Nothing that springs to mind at first reading."

Kira glanced at the list. A Romulan biologist, a Kressari free trader, a Bolian engineer, and a Grazerite bio-agricultural analyst. Other than them all being of alien races she could see no connection. She dropped the PADD on the desktop. "What do you suggest?"

"A two pronged attack," remarked Marshall. "With your permission, our Mr. Odo and I will cover those disappearances we know about. Re-interview witnesses and see if we cannot come up with some type of connection."

"You?"

"Given that your relations with our guest have been a little tense, I thought it would be better under the circumstances. And allowing for his telling the truth, it would give him a much higher profile if he were seen hanging about the Security Office."

"You’re probably right. What’s your second prong of attack?"

"Given that trying to find a changeling, assuming we are looking for a changeling, left to roam the Alpha Quadrant on his own would be about as likely as trying to find a needle in a hay field, we might want to concentrate our efforts on trying to find his method of transportation instead."

"That’s as good a place to start as any." She glanced out the door of her office. "I think that sounds like a job for Lt. Tavak. It’s just the kind of puzzle a Vulcan would find interesting without being too curious about why we want to know."

"Speaking of curiosity," said Marshall. "Have you thought of…"

She leaned forward covering her face with her hands. She knew what was coming next and suddenly felt weary. "Yes, I’ve thought and the only thing we can do is tell the truth - or part of it anyway. That - Odo - is here on behalf of the Dominion to look into security matters concerning traffic into and out of the Wormhole. Nothing more nothing less, as we agreed on the trip here."

"In keeping with protocols dealing with any dignitary visiting the station, I’ve assigned a team of guards to accompany Mr. Odo around the clock. He’ll be either with me or with them every second of the day. I’ve also gone over plans with Vonda regarding the placement of force fields around all ventilation ducts and maintenance access points in his quarters. I think you will agree, under the circumstances, the precaution serves a dual purpose of keeping him in as well as keeping others out."

"Agreed."

"With your permission, colonel, in order to keep up appearances, I am assigning guards to periodically take up positions outside your quarters during the night to give the impression you have a visitor. And I’ve instructed Vonda to have her crew secure the ventilation and maintenance accesses points in your quarters as well."

"On the off chance he’s not telling the truth?"

"Exactly."

"Fine. Where is he now?"

"I left him in his quarters. I am supposed to meet him in Security in a few minutes."

"Very well. Keep me informed."

Marshall stood to leave. "One thing is for certain, colonel," he said. "Next time I attend a conference, I trust you will not be offended if I decline an offer to share a runabout with you."

Marshall sighed as he stood up from behind his desk. "Let’s go," he said to the changeling seated across from him.

"You intend for me to assist you?"

"You are Odo are you not?" The changeling hesitated. "Look, Mr. Odo, if you want people to know you are here, there’s no better way than breaking up a brawl in a public place. You do remember how, do you not?"

The changeling merely snorted, but rose to accompany him. Crossing the threshold, Marshall halted abruptly.

"Is there something wrong?" asked his companion.

"Have you ever had the feeling you are being watched?"

Odo surveyed the crowded Promenade noting that the majority of the faces in the crowed were turned in their direction.

"Constantly," he replied.

The fight had escalated as they arrived. One central group of combatants were fighting near the dabo tables and several smaller scuffles appeared to have broken out around the rest of the bar. They were soon joined by a handful of additional security officers whom Marshall directed to break up the smaller fights, while he and Odo bore down upon the larger group near the dabo tables.

It was then that Marshall realized this was no ordinary bar brawl. As soon as they started pulling the tight knot of combatants apart the focus of the fight shifted and rather than fighting each other, the group now turned on the attack and Marshall found himself receiving blows from all directions. Glancing quickly around him, he was relieved in part to find the changeling still on his feet, but also in a position of having to defend himself from multiple attackers. Marshall quickly sized up his opponents. Fine, he thought, they were all of a species he was familiar with and all had weakness he knew how to exploit. This was no time to fight fair.

He had just sent the Kohlanese to the deck when an unexpected blow to the jaw from the Cardassian sent him staggering into Odo. Marshall did not see the knife until it was too late.

"You are late."

"This had better be important, Torias," said Rem Keshwan. "I don’t enjoy being summoned."

"My informant on the station tells me your - specialist - failed."

"You called me out on a night like this just to tell me that? Don’t you think I planned for that eventuality? Don’t I always have a back up plan, just in case?"

"It gets worse."

"Really, my dear Torias, you do have a flair for the dramatic…."

"The shape shifter, he’s back."

"What?"

"You heard me. Word is he’s here to work with Starfleet on some security issues - traffic in and out of the wormhole - or something like that. Point is, with him back, she’ll never leave the station and where does that leave us? Are you listening to me?"

Rem Keshwan suddenly felt cold. He needed to think, and he certainly need to think somewhere away from the prattling idiot that was Torias Jahns. Pulling his thoughts together, he turned to face his companion.

"Of course I’m listening, general."

"But what are we going to do?"

"We wait, Torias. Granted the return of the shifter complicates matters, but only slightly. He can be dealt with, but first things first. After all, Romulus wasn’t built in a day, now was it? Now go home to your wife and leave the details to me."

He turned to leave without giving Torias a second thought. Now was not the time to panic. True the return of the shifter was not something he had planned on, but somehow it might be turned to his advantage. But how?

"How is he?" she asked.

"Fine, colonel. Doctor Bashir is with him now, and much to our Mr. Odo’s irritation, he insisted on running some additional tests just in case."

"In case of what?"

"The knife held traces of a poison known to be deadly to most humanoids. As no one knows if it has ever been tested on changelings before, the good doctor just wants to be certain there are no ill effects."

She leaned toward him, lowering her voice. "Do you really think letting Julian near him with a tricorder is such a good idea given the circumstances?"

"Declining medical attention would have raised more suspicions, colonel, don’t you think?"

He had her there. "So it was a trap," she said squaring her shoulders once again.

"Most definitely."

"But who would try to assassinate a changeling with a poisoned knife? Especially if that poison poses no threat to a non-humanoid? And how did they know he was even here? We haven’t been back on the station for more than a few hours?"

"That I believe is the crucial question, colonel. Oh, I can think of a few people who would be stupid enough to try and kill someone with an unproven weapon, but I have not seen them on the station lately. And I suppose it is possible that word may have spread quickly about our guest, but it is rather unlikely."

"You think it was staged. By him."

"Not meaning to sound ungrateful, colonel, he did after all save my life. If he had not deliberately stepped between me and the Nausicaan’s knife, I most certainly would not be here now. However, it is a possibility we should entertain."

Kira nodded in agreement. "Where is the Nausicaan now?"

"I have him secured in a cell. Although I doubt he will tell us anything."

"We’ll see."

They made their way to the Security Office. There were crowds gathered there as well. As they climbed the steps Marshall stopped suddenly and glanced over the crowd.

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Have you ever…never mind, colonel, it’s nothing."

She shrugged and followed him into the holding cell area. The cells to the left and right were crowded with the battered participants of the brawl. Most were seated on the floor nursing their wounds. In the center cell sat the Nausicaan, his head slumped on his chest, his arms lax at his sides, and most definitely dead. A small, empty vial lay at his feet.