Chapter Text
‘I’m glad you’ve finally come to see sense,’ Sloan said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers in a way that was clearly intended to demonstrate his current sense of control.
Julian kept his hands balled into fists on his thighs. The desk that lay between them was entirely free of PADDs or clutter or even personal effects. That may have been out of paranoia at Julian seeing anything potentially sensitive, though Sloan didn’t give the impression of someone over-burdened by official reports, paperwork and oversight.
‘We both know if I had any other sensible options, I wouldn’t be here at all,’ Julian said tightly.
Sloan’s eyes narrowed, but his expression remained more satisfied than suspicious. ‘And how much choice do you think you deserve when you lied to obtain their position in Starfleet in the first place? I can give you a chance to do some real good and you won’t even have to hide while you do it.’
‘That’s a generous way of framing round the clock surveillance. If this is the reception you’re offering, it’s amazing I didn’t accept your terms sooner.’ Living on a station under Odo’s watchful eye, plus all the security measures they’d instated during the Dominion War, meant that Julian was fairly indifferent to the prospect of six months of surveillance. Particularly, he could admit to himself, now that there was nothing left that anyone could want to find out about him.
Sloan waved his comment away. ‘The surveillance will only be for six months – if that. Once you see how we operate, what good we do for the Federation, I know you’ll sign on properly. Permanently. Then we can relax those kinds of measures.’
Julian forced himself not to think of Cretak and straightened his shoulders. ‘What’s going to happen in six months is that Section 31 will have a perfect record of my recent conduct and you will personally draft a letter of recommendation on my behalf, which will be co-signed by those supposed high-ranking admiral friends of yours, which will in turn allow me to serve on an exploratory mission to wherever you aren’t. I don’t mind a bit more scrutiny than the average officer, if that’s what’s needed, if that will stop me from being frozen out of Starfleet and quietly decommissioned like some bloody war ship. My track record—’
‘Your track record involves an entire career built not just on deception, but successful deception. Are you really surprised that you make the admiralty nervous?’
Julian fell silent, his jaw set unhappily.
‘You’ll make the ideal operative. You just need someone who understands and appreciates your unique talents,’ Sloan said in a manner that he probably thought was reassuring.
‘Believe what you want. But after six months, I’ll be leaving and I’ll take your recommendation with me.’
‘As you say, Doctor,’ Sloan said dismissively. He drew a PADD out of his desk drawer and slid it across to Julian. ‘Scan your thumbprint here. In a couple of months we can sign you on properly.’
‘I mean it. If you want me to touch that thing, you have to swear you’ll vouch for me to Starfleet, even though I’ll be walking out of Section 31 permanently. Once I’m on a ship, there’ll be no more “one-off missions” or enticing recruitment offers. Six months, and we’re done.’
Sloan sighed. ‘If it will make you feel better, I’ll swear it here and now. If you really want to leave in six months, just to spite me, I’ll get you a position in Medical on any ship in the fleet. I can’t promise they’ll trust you, but they will take you. But I guarantee that in two, three months at most, we’ll be sitting here again joking about this moment.’ He held his hand out across the table.
Julian fought to keep a grimace off his face as he took Sloan’s hand. They shook. Sloan squeezed far harder than necessary. He also held on for a few seconds longer than he should have. It made Julian’s skin crawl. Then Sloan let him go and Julian picked up the PADD. He read over the contents quickly, but it was exactly the agreement they’d hammered out, down to the letter. He pressed his thumb to the scanner and it gave a soft beep. Sloan looked genuinely pleased, his manner almost avuncular. It almost would have been better if he’d been gloating, but it was abundantly clear that he believed every word he’d said.
///
‘You’re the worst field operative I’ve ever commanded,’ Sloan snapped at him.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but if I didn’t do something she would have died. And I know how much you value your intelligence assets,’ he added bitterly.
‘I value them because they’re willing to do what it takes! Do you think Agent Cartwright will thank you for compromising the mission when she wakes up?’
‘No, I expect her to spit in my face and call me a naïve little puppy again. Both of which are things she’ll be able to do because she’ll be alive to do them! Sir.’
‘Agent Bashir—’
‘Doctor Bashir.’
‘Julian.’ Sloan actually rose from behind his desk and circled around. Julian’s head turned to keep him in his field of vision, but he stayed where he stood, back straight, even when Sloan stepped uncomfortably close into his personal space.
‘You will report to our research department and tell Lieutenant-Commander Nguyen to make whatever use of you she can.’ Sloan’s hand descended onto Julian’s shoulder, too close to his neck for the gesture to be anything other than threatening. ‘Then you will do exactly what you’re ordered to do and finally contribute something to Section 31’s goals.’
Julian’s jaw tightened and he stepped back to shrug Sloan’s hand off him. Sloan had only gotten more… familiar… as the weeks dragged by, though he never did anything that was, strictly speaking, a breach of the Starfleet officer’s code of conduct. He clearly knew exactly where the line was. Julian inclined his head stiffly in acknowledgement of his new orders and turned to leave.
‘You will salute your commanding officer,’ Sloan said sharply.
Julian spun on his heel and gave the most sarcastic salute he could, while still following Starfleet’s protocol to the letter. ‘Two months, one week, three days, sir,’ he said stonily.
A muscle in Sloan’s jaw jumped. ‘And in less than a month you’re going to get over this childish rebelliousness and realise that this is obviously the best place for you. If you just started applying yourself—’
Julian tuned the rest of the familiar lecture out to focus on the hot, unhappy knot that had risen in his throat. He’d be able to leave soon. As he’d known, he’d had no aptitude for fieldwork, because his parents hadn’t been trying to build a Section 31 operative when they’d torn Jules apart to cobble together their own vision of what they thought he should have been. The most good he’d managed to do was in Section 31’s infirmary in his downtime, working with the few agents who had sustained severe injuries while getting extracted out of dangerous situations.
Once Sloan had finally dismissed him, no doubt reaching the end of even his patience for listening to himself drone on, Julian made his way to the research division. If Section 31, if Sloan, had actually wanted to make use of him, this was where they should have sent him in the first place. Every one of Julian’s reports had in fact outlined this as part of his concluding remarks. So far, he had been ignored.
He found Lieutenant-Commander Nguyen running simulations in her office. Naturally, Section 31 had a closed-door policy, where even researchers were siloed from each other. It was a wonder that they managed to achieve anything at all. ‘Reporting for duty, sir,’ Julian said wearily when Nguyen looked up from her console.
‘Yes, I was briefed. One too many field assignments gone off vector, apparently.’
Julian nodded stiffly.
Nguyen gave a put-upon sigh. ‘I personally don’t like having someone working here who doesn’t want to be here. You’re a liability.’
‘So I’ve been told,’ Julian said dryly.
Nguyen’s expression didn’t soften. ‘You have a medical background, correct?’
‘Yes, I’m a doctor.’
‘That also seems to be part of the problem, from what I’ve gathered. Putting you in the field and expecting results is – well. Let’s just say I’ve worked with doctors before,’ she said, matching Julian’s dry tone.
Julian gave her a half-hearted smile. The sad thing was that plenty of the individual members of Section 31 he interacted with seemed perfectly fine. A bit paranoid and intense, perhaps, and he’d certainly gotten his share of sideways looks, but some of them had warmed up to him over time. He’d had a conversation or two in the base’s Replimat that weren’t entirely characterised by awkwardness and mistrust. ‘I will endeavour to live up to those doctors’ undoubtedly stellar examples.’
Nguyen drummed her fingers on her desk. ‘Look, Doctor Bashir, I don’t want questions. I don’t want disobedience and I certainly don’t want malicious compliance. If you have any issues take them up with Director Sloan because you and I both answer to him. Do your job, keep your head down, and maybe you won’t have to go back into the field and embarrass the organisation again. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Perfectly clear,’ Julian said neutrally.
‘Good. I discussed your re-assignment with the Director this morning, and we think there’s a role that might actually suit your skill-set. Or at least suit it better than fieldwork. There’s an asset currently being held downstairs. You will be his personal physician.’
‘Why is someone being “held” downstairs by Section 31?’ Julian asked sharply.
Nguyen gave him a flat, unimpressed look. ‘Go and equip yourself with a basic kit and a tricorder from the infirmary. Then report downstairs so you can check on your patient. That is your assignment. Dismissed.’
Julian left, his brain buzzing with questions and a horrible sort of dread rising up from the pit of his stomach. He had no idea what sort of condition he’d find his new ‘patient’ in. There was little doubt in his mind that no due process or trial had taken place before this person had been imprisoned by Section 31.
After picking up some woefully basic medical supplies, Julian took a turbo lift down to the basement level. It opened onto a long, straight, brightly lit corridor with what appeared to be a pair of blast doors sealing the other end. The comm unit by the door was low-tech enough that Julian suspected that it was isolated from the base’s main systems. Julian activated it. ‘Hello, I’m the new personal physician for whomever you’re holding behind a pair of blast doors,’ he said.
‘Doctor Bashir?’
Julian resisted the impulse to answer sarcastically. If there was a sick or injured person in there, he would not delay their treatment out of misdirected pique. ‘Yes, Doctor Julian Bashir reporting,’ he said instead. Section 31 wasted so much time and energy on being officious and pointlessly hierarchical. Julian considered this tendency to be a performative compensation for the fact that they saw how tenuous their links to Starfleet’s true purpose really were.
The doors slid open. Inside was a room with screens arrayed along one curved wall. A desk and over-large console had been set opposite the wall of screens. The back wall was simply absent and opened up into another corridor, though this one was curved right around. The guard sitting at the desk wasn’t someone that Julian had met before. Her dark eyes had the familiar wariness that Julian had come to expect from Section 31 members that he hadn’t had a chance to talk with. ‘The prisoner is around that corridor. There are a series of force-fields operating much like an airlock. They will be keyed to your bio-signature. Press the panel with your palm, wait until you hear a tone, and proceed through. Wait for a second tone before proceeding to the next panel. You will pass through three force-fields before you arrive at the edge of the cell proper. You will not be permitted to enter the cell without prior authorisation from Director Sloan himself.’
‘How am I supposed to treat a patient that I can’t even access?’ Julian asked indignantly.
‘The cell is composed of force-fields. A tricorder should be able to scan through the force-field.’
‘And if the scan reveals a need for urgent treatment? Or if the results are ambiguous?’
‘Then medical transport can be arranged with a simple verbal authorisation from the Director,’ the guard said calmly. ‘The infirmary is designed to hold… uncooperative patients.’
Julian grimaced at the phrasing, but at least there was an option to escalate things, medically speaking. ‘Am I supposed to gather that this patient is dangerous?’ he asked dryly.
All he got back was a slight sneer. ‘What was your clearance again, Augment?’ the guard asked. It wasn’t really a question. Julian didn’t waste a patient’s time trying to argue and rounded the corridor instead. He slapped his hand down on the first bio-keyed panel. Working through all of Section 31’s paranoid security measures wasted yet more time, but it meant he got a glimpse of the patient as he slowly made his way deeper into the cell complex.
The patient was humanoid and lying down on a narrow bed. The cell itself was more spacious than Julian had feared, with a proper table and chair at one end, albeit made of lightweight, transparent material. The bed was situated in the other corner and there appeared to be a low – was that a bookshelf off to the left? With old-fashioned paper books? Perhaps a PADD would have been considered a security risk.
There were bathroom facilities set back against the far wall, with a hip-high modesty panel, though that was translucent rather than fully opaque. The final corner had some mats laid out on the floor, likely for exercise. On one hand, the set up fully catered to a humanoid’s most basic physical needs, which was reassuring. On the other hand sat the uneasy implication that the prisoner was rarely, if ever, let out of this cell.
As he got closer, Julian was able to determine that his patient was likely a human. He was an older man, with only a few darker streaks lingering in his otherwise grey shoulder-length hair. His brown skin had that faint tinge that suggested he hadn’t seen real sunlight in a while. The compensatory supplements provided to space-based personnel did much the same thing to Julian’s complexion – here and, indeed, back on Deep Space Nine. He dropped that line of thought before bittersweet nostalgia could start climbing his throat. Instead, he approached the final force-field that defined the edge of his patient’s cell.
‘Hello, my name is Julian Bashir. I’m a doctor and I’m here to look after you and provide any treatment you might require. Are you in any pain?’ He usually didn’t ask that sort of question so quickly and bluntly to a new patient, but he was genuinely worried that he’d been sent to patch up a torture-survivor and he needed to know if that were the case. A recently traumatised patient would need highly specialised care.
The man lying on the bed didn’t respond directly, instead opting to turn the next page of his book. However, the corner of his mouth had risen slightly as Julian spoke, though at this angle it was hard to tell if it was the beginning of a smile or a sneer.
‘If you don’t wish to engage with someone standing on this side of your cell, that’s perfectly understandable, but I really am a doctor and I’m not particularly interested in the machinations of the organisation that trapped you here. I have a tricorder with me. Would you give me permission to scan you?’
‘Machinations,’ the man repeated slowly, without looking up from his book. ‘And just where did the people who trapped me here find you… Doctor?’ The slight pause before Julian’s title more than conveyed his scepticism. Despite this, the tone of his voice was rich and warm and the UT gave him an accent that Julian couldn’t place.
Julian swallowed. He needed to build rapport if he was going to be able to treat him at all. He wasn’t about to violate this man’s consent any more than Section 31, presumably, already had. ‘In Starfleet. I was a lieutenant and chief medical officer on a space station for many years. This is a temporary assignment for me.’
The man set aside his book and sat up slowly. There was an unusual grace to the way he moved and Julian found himself staring. A pair of arresting dark eyes met his through the force-field. ‘Starfleet doctors have something of a reputation.’
‘Yes. Yes we do,’ Julian said with an edge of relief in his voice, ‘and I can assure you—’
‘The last time I was treated by a Starfleet doctor, he did everything in his power to ensure I had access to information about what he was doing, where I was, and who was surrounding me.’
Julian’s heart sank. ‘I can certainly explain exactly what I’m doing as I’m doing it,’ he offered gamely. ‘Every patient has the right to know what their doctor is doing and why.’
The man’s expression didn’t shift, and the weight of his regard was strangely intense. ‘Have you been ordered not to tell me where I am and what is to happen to me, or do you simply not know?’
‘I don’t know,’ Julian said quietly. ‘I don’t even know who you are.’
‘You may call me Singh.’
‘Thank you Mr Singh. May I please scan you?’ He wiggled his tricorder hopefully in the air.
‘Tell me why you don’t want to be here, and I’ll consider it.’
‘What?’
‘Your countenance tells me you haven’t slept well in some time. Your posture is tight and defensive and I doubt that it’s because you’re afraid of one man kept behind some very effective force-fields. I might be inclined to believe you when you say that you are uninterested in the goals of those in the rooms above us if you explain to me why you do not wish to be here.’ The man smiled grimly. ‘People find it difficult to lie to me.’
Julian could believe that. There was something compelling about Singh’s focused attention, though it might also be the fact that it had been months since Julian had last talked honestly to anyone outside of Section 31. The base itself operated under a continuous sub-space lock-down and as for written communication… Julian hadn’t been able to face the prospect of letting his friends know about the deal he’d had to make with Section 31. He’d written vaguely of a classified six month mission before signing on and had made even vaguer promises about keeping in touch.
Julian shifted awkwardly where he stood. ‘You were probably going to find out about me sooner or later. I’m one of the few unclassified topics for gossip on this base,’ he added, the bitterness on his tongue now almost commonplace. ‘I am – I was, well, I’m in a rather precarious position, legally. Being here is a constant reminder of that, which I don’t care for. I have… you see, I…’ it was a struggle to get the words out, but there was something about the steady, calm presence on the other side of the force-field that made him want to, regardless of the difficulty. Sharing the story of his own tenuous role within Section 31 would be an excellent first-step to building the required rapport. Surely. ‘My parents had me illegally genetically altered at age six,’ he choked out. ‘Given that I shouldn’t even—’
‘You may scan me, Doctor Julian Bashir.’
Julian’s head jerked up. He hadn’t realised that he’d started to curl in on himself as he spoke. ‘Sorry, I – what?’
If Singh’s gaze had been intense before, now it burned. The only respite was in how quickly his eyes darted across every centimetre of Julian’s body. He'd gotten fully to his feet and was standing just shy of the edge of the force-field. ‘I must apologise. Imprisonment seems to have robbed me of my perception as well as my manners. I didn’t see it before because I wasn’t allowing myself to see. Take your scan.’
Julian’s heart started beating harder in his chest, but he could deal with that once he had reassured himself that Singh was in no immediate medical danger. Julian ran through the tricorder calibrations quickly and efficiently, all while hyper-aware of the attention on him. He took Singh’s scans, narrating what he was doing as he did it. Singh remained silent and let him work. ‘That’s… odd,’ Julian said aloud, not entirely intentionally, as the data flashed up before him.
‘Odd in what way?’ Singh asked, sounding amused.
The tricorder provided plenty of reference data, including the healthy ranges expected for a wide variety of demographics. Julian had long since memorised all of them, but he checked back across them all anyway. ‘The readings for your physiological baselines are all—’
‘Perfect?’ Singh interrupted.
‘Not – that’s not really how medical data works. I mean you’re in perfect health, that’s true, it’s just that I’m getting some very inconsistent data about your age biomarkers and I’m a little concerned about an apparent exposure to a highly complex suite of unknown bimolecular compounds.’ The dread from before resurged, bringing with it a wave of cold anger. ‘Are the people down here experimenting on you, Mr Singh?’ Julian asked with a deceptive calmness.
Singh laughed, the sound mellifluous and warm. ‘They wouldn’t know where to begin and they certainly wouldn’t dare to jeopardise what they had. No, Doctor Bashir, what your readings are trying to tell you is that you and I are the same. I am also “genetically altered”, as you call it, and this must be why you have been assigned to me. I simply I cannot decide if sending you down here indicates an extreme lapse of judgement or the most intelligent move this organisation has made since imprisoning me.’
‘I see,’ Julian said stiffly. He was relieved that there was apparently no human experimentation occurring down here, but he was disturbed that Section 31 was holding someone like Singh at all. And Singh himself seemed… Julian wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was talking to another Augment if Singh hadn’t told him. ‘Are you experiencing any symptoms of injury or illness?’ he asked mechanically.
Singh frowned. ‘Come now, our kinship is cause for celebration, not a reason for you to retreat behind your rote formality. Though I suppose it isn’t comfortable seeing one of your own kind being caged like this.’
What did you do? The question was on the tip of Julian’s tongue, but he bit it back, aware of just how inappropriate it was to ask that of someone being held by Section 31. They didn’t ascribe to Federation values or appropriate legal processes, no matter what Sloan insisted. ‘Sorry, I haven’t met many other Augments, and even those I have all seem to end up… contained in some way.’
‘But not you,’ Singh pointed out. Julian shook his head silently. ‘And yet you’re obviously not pretending to be one of them.’ The venom in Singh’s tone made Julian flinch.
‘There is no “us” and “them”. We’re all just doing our best.’
‘The best available to the unenhanced is far outstripped by even the meagrest efforts of our kind.’
‘No, look, I’m no better or worse than anyone else, plenty of people whose parents didn’t do what mine did are still—’
Singh’s frown deepened. ‘Doctor Bashir,’ he interrupted, ‘what your parents did was the only worthwhile thing that unenhanced individuals can do. They wanted to see that their son exceeded them and their petty limitations. It is a beautiful thing, that even unenhanced as they were, they clearly loved you more than they loved their own fallibility.’
Bile rose in the back of Julian’s throat. ‘What they did to a six-year-old child to make me was monstrous,’ he stated.
Singh sat down heavily on the edge of his bed and leaned his elbows on his knees. ‘Is that why they haven’t put you in a cage?’ he asked sadly. ‘How long must you have been drowning in this… propaganda? It is a terrible thing for one of us to have self-hatred. For an Augment to hate himself is to have his instincts twisted around so badly that he has been taught to hate perfection itself. You should be proud. You are part of my legacy.’
‘No.’ Julian had backed away from the edge of Singh’s cell and found himself shocked by the force-field behind him. He didn’t remember moving. His heart was thundering in his chest and his palm was slick with sweat where he was still gripping his tricorder. The tricorder that was displaying anomalous readings about this individual’s age and biochemistry. Singh. Julian felt light-headed, untethered. ‘No,’ he repeated, his voice rising involuntarily. He dropped the tricorder and slapped the biometric panel on the wall. ‘No, that’s not possible.’
‘Doctor Bashir?’ Singh asked carefully from within his cell. Singh. Singh. Singh.
‘No. Section 31 does not have Khan bloody Noonien Singh in a cell in their basement,’ he stammered, denying what already felt true, halfway to incoherence.
The prisoner – patient – he said something, was saying something. Julian was focused on getting out, getting away, back through those stupid force-fields. He had questions. Demands. He knew he was being watched. He was always being watched. ‘Sloan!’ he bellowed.