And now...the re-intro to Mr. Crant ("played" by Cristoph Watz).
Note: from this point until the epilogue are chapters I've written this summer, as opposed to last fall/spring.
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
"From Risa With Love"
Mr. Crant watched him enter the suite, from a safe enough distance so that the doctor wouldn’t take notice of him. Now, it was safe to approach the door, and scan.
Finally, he took a few steps back, and reached into his work-bag—he was now disguised as a maintenance worker for the Resort—pulling out his transmitter, pressing the control.
The voice of Mr. Crolin answered. “Well?”
“Very good. You know what to do.”
The line closed. Mr. Crant put the transmitter away, approached the doctor’s suite, and knocked on the door.
* * *
Bashir turned to the door with a frown. Now that’s odd
…. Who could that be?
He checked the tricorder. Holland was still in her room.
He pulled his phaser, holding it discreetly by his side, under his wrist. He walked to the door, opening it.
The man in the hall looked oddly familiar, somehow. He had a gaunt face, with a straight nose, a prominent chin, and deeply perceptive-looking eyes. His hair was short-cut, yet slightly tousled. He was dressed in the attire of a maintenance worker…but somehow, it didn’t seem to fit Bashir’s feeling.
“Excuse me,” he said, in a slightly nervous, green tone of voice, “You are Dr.—uh, Julian Bashir, yes?”
Bashir nodded slowly, unable to shake the sense of déjà vu
…. “Of course…. Don’t the records give my room number?”
The man chuckled, and shrugged. “Well, you can’t be too careful, sir—records can be filled
with errors, if you understand what I mean.”
“I…suppose so. Now, may I ask what you want? I don’t recall putting in an order for—”
“Oh, there’ve been some problems with the supply systems—particularly the water. We’re checking up on all the rooms on the supply line in question.”
Bashir’s frown deepened, as he cautiously stepped aside, to let the man pass. “I haven’t had any problems.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it. Still—we don’t want to take any chances.”
Bashir waved the man in the direction of the restroom, making sure not to turn his back on him.
Where have I seen that
He walked over to the desk, activating his console. He opened a channel to the front desk of the Resort.
“Resort of the Vulcan Stone. How may I help you?”
Bashir kept his voice quiet enough to not call the attention of the “worker”. “Uh, yes—this is Julian Bashir. I’m in suite 973. Was there a work order for these rooms—inspection, or something?”
“Let me check
Bashir turned in the direction of the restroom again. He could pick up the sound of the man taking something from the bag.
The voice on the other end came back on. “No, sir. Would you like to file an order now?”
Bashir narrowed his eyes. “Never mind…forget I called.”
“Of course, sir.”
As the line closed, Bashir rose to his feet, phaser in hand.
“So!” he asked, in a cheery tone, “What’s your name?”
“Sir?” asked the “worker”.
Bashir walked over to the entrance to the restroom. The man was kneeling by the sink, his back to Bashir.
Julian shrugged. “Oh, I was just wondering…”
The “worker” shrugged, not looking up. “My name’s Crant, sir.”
Bashir took a step forward. “Well…have you been working here long?”
“Not long, sir—a few weeks.”
“Sir, if you…don’t mind, I’d—like to finish with my work.”
Bashir raised his phaser. “And what would that be…hmm?”
Bashir narrowed his eyes. “Get up.”
Crant turned to him—not confused, not angry, just blank. “Sir…?”
“Don’t ‘sir’ me, Mr. Crant
. You’re not working for the Resort. In fact, I’d wager you’re with Crolin—and you’re here for the device. Am I right?”
Crant stared at him, for a moment. Finally…he let out a chuckle. Not bothering to get up, he relaxed, his head leaning against the sink. “Excellent, Dr. Bashir,” he said, his tone changing, conveying the confidence in his posture. “I really must congratulate you, you know. Most of my quarry would have been duped—well, long enough for this position to be reversed, at least….”
He tilted his head. “But I’m curious: how did you know?”
Bashir felt a smile. “Oh, not much—just…I could’ve sworn
I saw you from somewhere.”
“And did you?”
His smile grew. “As a matter of fact…I’d say you’ve been keeping close tabs on my rooms. You were here last night, weren’t you—watching my quarters, under the guise of waiting outside another room?”
Crant returned the smile. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“I didn’t. Frankly, that little fact didn’t even register until just now—after I checked with the front desk.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately for you…I happen to have a very
Crant nodded slowly, and chuckled again. “Well, Dr. Bashir…I must admit, you’re a most intellectual treat. I enjoy a challenge.”
Bashir returned the chuckle. “I try. Now—I take it you’re looking to see if it’s here?”
“Oh, I’ve just discovered it’s not, Doctor. Just before you confronted me, I ran a tricorder scan of the rooms.”
Bashir nodded. “So, you’re going to try and locate my associate, next?”
Crant spread out his hands. “I suppose that would
be the ideal next step.”
“Well, unfortunately, I have no intention of giving up her location. And from where I stand…you’re not in much of a position to make demands.”
Crant’s smile grew. “No…I suppose not.”
And then, Bashir heard the sound of a disruptor—and felt its force in the stomach. He mentally kicked himself for letting his guard down—for allowing himself to gloat over his quarry, and not wonder why
Crant had been refusing to get up.
As he went down, the stun setting taking its effect, he heard Crant chuckle, as the man rose and brushed himself off.
“Then again,” he heard Crant say, as his vision faded into darkness, “Perhaps I’m in such a position, after all….”
* * *