Kira could hear the stream speeding loudly past her now, just a few paces away. She turned to her right, perpendicular to the source of the sound, and walked forward until her hands found an outcropping she had spied from above. She dropped to her knees behind the rock, removing herself once more from the potential view of anybody who might be looking out from the structure, or even from the copse, for intruders.

It took almost three minutes before lightning struck again, but Kira was prepared for it. As soon as the flash faded, she dashed out from behind the outcropping, turned toward the stream, and ran forward. At the point she judged to be at the edge of the rushing water, she leaped. As cold as the weather had been, the water seemed colder still. Iciness clutched at Kira’s flesh through her already drenched uniform, but fortunately the stream came up only as high as the tops of her calves, allowing her to maintain a long stride. On the fourth step, though, her foot plunged into a depression, the water reaching up to her waist. She attempted to pull her other leg forward, to sustain her pace, and she might have made it had the current not been as strong. As she fell, she threw her weight forward as best she could. The frigidity of the stream shocked Kira physically. Her breath was forced from her lungs, and she gasped in a mouthful of dirty, gritty water.

Kira jerked her head backward, bringing her face clear of the stream. She felt the force of the current driving against the length of her body. Her feet came up off the streambed, and she began to be pushed along. Trying to breathe around gulps of water, she flailed with her arms, desperately searching for a handhold on something, anything, to prevent herself from being carried away. Her fingers closed familiarly around a fistful of watery earth, but the mud squeezed out from her hand and left her holding nothing. Kira reached with her other hand and felt the bristly texture of grass. She seized the stalks and pulled. The grass came free, but she moved forward enough to grab again, and this time, both hands found the grass. With all of her might, Kira hauled herself forward, her upper torso landing over her hands on the ground. She stopped for a moment, trying to bring a spate of coughing under control. Finally, she swung her legs up onto the bank and rolled away from the surging water.

Kira lay on her stomach for long minutes, her arms folded up beneath her chest, her forehead resting on the wet grass. The roar of the stream resounded as her breathing gradually returned to normal. A delicate mist tickled the back of her neck, but she couldn’t tell whether it was the lighter rainfall or spray from the stream.

Kira pushed herself up onto her knees. She knew she had to find cover before the next stroke of lightning revealed her to whoever might be watching. She looked around, trying to establish her bearings. The location of the stream was obvious, and she had a rough idea of the direction of the structure, but it was no longer clear to her where she might conceal herself. She had seen several such places from atop the ridge, but she was no longer sure exactly where they were.

Gathering her strength, Kira rose and raced along the level ground. Lightning flared suddenly, revealing a large, tangled shape not far in front of her. She stumbled immediately to a halt, then groped in the ensuing darkness until she reached the gnarled form of the upended tree. She ducked behind the knotted, petrified roots, swinging her back to rest against them.

Next time,Kira thought, and then, There won’t be a next time.Again, she considered putting an end to the simulation. She had seen it through this far, though, and so she might as well finish it.

This is what I get,she jokingly reproved herself, for thinking about the feelings of a Jem’Hadar.

*   *   *

Five days ago, Taran’atar had been discharged from the infirmary by Dr. Tarses, and he had come immediately to Kira’s office. She looked across her desk at him and saw that, remarkably, the massive bruising on his face had already faded completely. Sustained by a Bajoran, such damage would have taken weeks to heal—if a Bajoran could have survived at all. According to Simon, Taran’atar’s other, more serious injuries had mended, or continued to mend, at a similarly accelerated rate. The Founders sure know how to build their soldiers,she thought.

Standing before her desk in his usual black coverall, Taran’atar thanked her for expediting his release from “medical captivity,” and informed her that he would be returning to “duty.” Of course, beyond the few times he had participated in specific missions—the trip to Sindorin to apprehend Locken, the operation to evacuate Europa Nova—his self-determined duty of late consisted primarily of standing, unmoving and silent, beside the sensor maintenance station in ops. To experience living among different life-forms,she supposed, as Odo had bade him, though she also guessed that Taran’atar standing at attention and observing people move about him had not been exactly what Odo had intended.

For their part, the crew had not yet grown entirely accustomed to the Jem’Hadar’s presence, but they had at least become less suspicious of him, perhaps because he did little more than set himself in their midst, without generating any threat. Even now, as he talked with Kira, he simply stood across the desk from her, rigid and still. Kira had to admit, though, that even if she did not find him threatening, she did perceive that he was never distracted; he existed like an exposed nerve, she thought, ever prepared to react to the slightest stimulus. She would have offered him a chair, but she knew that he preferred to remain on his feet.

When Taran’atar finished speaking, which did not take long—the Founders had clearly not provided the Jem’Hadar with a prerogative for small talk—Kira inquired about any plans he might have beyond his return to duty. A precondition of the doctor releasing Taran’atar had been Kira’s agreement that he would see no physically strenuous activity for another ten days. She hadn’t expected any problem in fulfilling that promise, but beside his time in ops, Taran’atar also made occasional visits to the holosuites for the purpose of honing his already formidable combat skills. And after being bedridden for the longest period in his life, he wanted to do precisely that; he told Kira that he felt listless and unfit, and angry as well.

“Angry?” she asked.

“This isn’t our way,” he said. He gave no indication of what he meant by this,but it was obvious to her that he was speaking of the medical attention he had been paid during the past few days.

Kira pushed back in her chair and rose, her fingertips resting on the edge of her desk. “Surely the Jem’Hadar care for their own health,” she said, actually curious about whether or not that happened to be true.

“We do,” Taran’atar said, “but our health doesn’t come from lying in a bed.” His voice had declined to a deeper, harsher tone.

“Sometimes—” Kira started, and then stopped. She looked down, and the reflection of the computer display in the polished surface of her desk caught her eye. She stared at a green ellipse tracing its way through bright pinpoints—Commander Vaughn’s proposed course for Defiant’s exploration of the Gamma Quadrant—and grasped her way through her thoughts. Her first reaction had been to argue Taran’atar’s point, but she also wanted to understand his perspective. During the past few months, since she had taken charge of the station, Kira had attempted to be more receptive to points of view contrary to her own—first with the people under her command, and then with just about everybody with whom she came into contact. She still failed as often as she succeeded, she knew, but with Taran’atar, understanding sometimes came easily. He had been sent to Deep Space 9—exiled here was how she suspected he thought of it—and forced to live among people he did not comprehend, for a purpose he did not comprehend; for Kira, such circumstances were not entirely unrecognizable. And yet, if Taran’atar was going to live here, Kira hoped he would come to some greater understanding of the Bajoran people and the other inhabitants of the Alpha Quadrant; that had been Odo’s hope as well.