4
"Here's our culprit," Bashir said, and couldn't keep the grim hint from his voice.
Tanner looked at the medical display, then at him.
"You'll have to explain," she said.
He pointed to a single base pair sequence, which the computer had enlarged and highlighted for him.
"You have a mutation in one of the sequences that defines your brain. This," he keyed in some commands, "Is what most humans would have, but you don't."
Tanner studied it, frowning slightly.
"So, do Kevin and Meg have it? Or one of my parents?"
Bashir shook his head.
"I don't know. I'd have to run a genome sequence on them, and without them here, that's impossible. It may very well be that this is genetic, or it may be just in you."
She gave him a long, careful look.
"And you think this is why I'm a telepath?", she asked.
Bashir blinked, surprised. That was the first time he had heard the idea put into words, and so clearly at that.
He nodded.
"Yes."
"So why is this only happening now? Why haven't I been this way all of my life? I can tell you honestly that I've never heard your thoughts before."
"Well," he said, then sighed. "I'm not really sure, but I have a theory."
"Let's hear it."
He turned to face her, and reminded himself that she was still the same woman he'd known for eleven years, and that this genetic anomaly had been riding around in her brain since before she was born.
"It's possible that the gene was dormant until something triggered it. In this case, given that it's activating areas of your brain that are normally inactive, and that it's happened during your time on a Vulcan ship, I think that the meditation training did it."
Tanner considered that, then nodded slowly.
"But why wouldn't I have noticed this sooner? Why am I picking up thoughts here, but I wasn't on the T'Kail?"
"Well, I know a bit about Vulcans," Bashir said, "And I know that they have very tight, very well maintained mental defenses. Telepaths generally do; they have to, or else their minds wouldn't be under their control. And since Vulcans are experts at self control, it's entirely possible that your mutation had been triggered, but they were keeping you out by habit. Here, on the other hand, we're mostly non-telepaths. Most of us don't have very good control over our minds, not to mention a complete lack of telepathic shields. You said you heard voices, whispering; did any of them seem familiar to you from the crew of the T'Kail?"
"No," Tanner said.
"I seriously doubt that you would hear them no matter what. Same with Betazoids. Or even a telepathically resistant species like the Ferengi."
Tanner considered that, then nodded slowly.
"I suppose I'm going to need some training. T'Sarak might be the best person, and at least I wouldn't have to deal with any surprise from her."
"Provided you could get her to stay on Earth," Bashir said.
Tanner shot him a questioning look.
"What?", she asked. "Why Earth?"
"Well, Starfleet medical is going to want to examine you, I'm certain. This is unprecedented, Shan. They're going to want to know–"
"No," Tanner cut in sharply.
"What?", Bashir asked.
"No. You aren't going to tell them."
He stared at her.
"What do you mean? Shan, if your parents or siblings have this gene, this could be a huge medical breakthrough. If your family has it, then maybe others have it, too. This might even be the next step in human evolution."
She stared at him, shocked.
"But this is my condition," she insisted. "You're the one who told me that. And I'm not giving you permission to tell anyone. You discovered this as my doctor, Julian, and I'm holding you to that now."
"What do you mean? We've got to tell Starfleet medical– this is amazing! They'll want to know everything about it!"
"That's the problem!"
"What do you mean?", Bashir asked.
Tanner shook her head, making a sharp gesture with her hands.
"I don't want to be a lab rat, Julian. I don't want to be studied for the rest of my life, and I certainly don't want to inflict that on my family or some stranger that might have the same mutation."
"But if this is the next evolutionary step–"
"If this is the next evolutionary step, how many people do you think have it now? I took some evolutionary biology courses at the academy and I know you had to. You know the transition from having wisdom teeth to not having them is still in progress, and that began over ten thousand years ago! How many people do you think could possibly have this mutation? Maybe I'm the very first. But even if I'm not, even if people have had it for hundreds of years and didn't have the advantage of Vulcan meditation, it won't make any difference. Because the number of people will still be too small to be significant. And you know that we can't genetically treat infants to have this mutation. What would Starfleet medical do with me?"
"Well–", Bashir started hesitantly, "A lot more than I can do here. They could figure out how it works, and you could be trained to use it–"
"To what end?", Tanner demanded. "I don't want to be an intelligence officer, Julian." She paused, glancing at the door for a moment, then back at him. "I was approached about that once, and God knows I have the intellect for it, but I don't want to be a spy. I don't want Starfleet using me in diplomatic negotiations or sending me off to see if the Klingons or the Cardassians are lying to us, or back to the Gamma Quadrant to spy on the Dominion. I'm a scientist, Julian. An astrophysicist. That's what I want to do. That's what I've always wanted to do." She paused again, taking a deep breath. "If you tell them, they won't let me be that. They'll take away my commission and make me do what they want me to do. And if I refuse, or if I run, I'll be a fugitive. They'll make me a thing, not a person. They'll want to use me as a weapon."
Bashir stared at her a moment, looking slightly taken aback.
"You don't know that–", he began.
Tanner gave a quick, sharp shake of her head.
"What would you do if you were a head doctor at SFM and you came across someone like me? What would you do if you were in charge of Starfleet Intelligence?"
Bashir paused, and Tanner nodded.
"Right," she said.
"But you can't be certain–"
"I can be certain enough not to give up this information," she retorted. She paused, then narrowed her eyes slightly. "Don't make me order you, Julian."
This time, he looked particularly startled; it was the first time she had ever pulled rank on him. Tanner turned and strode from the room, not trusting herself to say anything else. It had been a long time since she had felt so conflicted: angry and frightened and frustrated all at the same time. It was an unwelcome sensation; eleven months with the Vulcans had taught her to find balance in each day, and, because Vulcans were as unemotional as they were, there had been no need for the turbid emotions Tanner felt now.
She took a deep breath to calm herself as she left the infirmary, and headed left, not for any particular reason, but on the basis that if she stopped, Bashir might come after her and catch up with her, and she knew that, now, they might both say things they'd regret later.
"Computer!", she snapped, startled by the clipped tone of her voice, "Locate Lieutenant T'Sarak."
Lieutenant T'Sarak entered Quark's and glanced around, unable to immediately locate the person she had come to find. She approached the bar and the Ferengi looked up from cleaning a glass.
"What'll it be?", he asked.
"I do not want anything to drink," she replied. "I am looking for Doctor Bashir."
Quark nodded to the spiral staircase that led up to the second level.
"Just follow the cloud of gloom," he replied.
T'Sarak gave him a puzzled glance, then realized he was referring to Bashir's current emotional state. She raised her eyes to the mezzanine and saw Bashir alone at a table in a dark corner, hunched over a drink.
"Thank you," she said to the Ferengi and headed toward the stairs.
Bashir only noticed her when she sat down in the chair opposite him. He looked exhausted, and she supposed he had been battling himself, as humans so often did.
"I take it Shan sent you," he said, bypassing any greeting.
"She asked me to come; she did not send me," T'Sarak replied evenly. "She was quite upset when I spoke to her." Pausing, T'Sarak raised an eyebrow as only a Vulcan could. "I have never seen her so upset, particularly in the last year."
Bashir grimaced.
"I get your point," he muttered.
"But I am not sure you see hers," T'Sarak replied.
"Ah, so you know all about it."
"Logically."
Bashir sat back with a disgruntled sigh.
"It's not like this is something minor!", he said, shaking his head. "This is a huge discovery–"
"No," T'Sarak interrupted.
He blinked.
"What?"
"No, this is not a huge discovery. This is a person."
"I mean the genetic anomaly," Bashir said. "As far as we know, no human has ever had this before."
"As far as we know," T'Sarak emphasized. "But it is irrelevant."
"Is it?", Bashir pressed.
"You're a doctor," T'Sarak said evenly. "You understand the principles of evolutionary biology, I'm sure. If Shannon is the first, then others will be sparse for hundreds, if not thousands, of years."
Bashir sighed.
"That's what she said," he said, eyes cast down to his drink.
T'Sarak leaned forward, one hand flat on the table, her gaze piercing him until he looked up to meet her eyes. They were dark and bright, typical Vulcan eyes.
"I do not need to remind you about doctor-patient confidentiality, Julian," she said. "I'm aware that that can be disregarded in the necessary circumstances. I believe that this is not a decision Shannon can force you to make, no matter how much she would like to, and how much medical ethics should bind you. You must choose knowing what the choice will mean to Shannon. Because if you tell Starfleet Medical, you sentence her to a lifetime of being studied."
"You make it sound as if they'd dehumanize her! She would be treated with dignity, she'd be immensely important to the doctors there–"
T'Sarak rose from her chair, leaning down so that her eyes were not quite level with him.
"There is a human saying about being a bird in a gilded cage, I believe," she said. "Think very carefully about how you would like to be treated if you had such a secret."
"Is that a threat?", Bashir said, bristling obviously.
T'Sarak arched an eyebrow.
"A suggestion," she replied, and walked away before he could reply, leaving him staring after her in shock.
Bashir stood by one of the viewports in upper pylon three, gazing blankly out at the stars, toward where he knew the wormhole was, even though it wasn't visible at the moment.
A thousand thoughts swirled around his tired brain; despite his genetic enhancements, he felt like his mind was going too fast for him to keep up, and it was impossible to slow it down. Before him lay two paths, one of which his duty bound him to take, the other to which his friendship and sense of ethics tied him.
He closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Images and memories from the past eleven years assailed him. He could remember the first day he had met Tanner, remember the way she looked after the racquetball coach had called off their match, both of them breathing hard, she looking exhilarated.
He remembered when she had graduated at the top of her class, and the valedictorian speech she had given, and the excitement in her eyes when she had told him she'd received the assignment she wanted on the Soto. He remembered how she had made it back the next year to be at his graduation, and how thrilled he had been to see her again. He remembered how excited she had been for him to learn he had been assigned to Deep Space Nine. He remembered he stepping off the ill-fated USS Voyager, her first time on DS9, and how the two years since he has last seen her had barely seemed to change her. Tanner had seemed as vibrant and enthusiastic as ever, perhaps more so, in anticipation of her mission with the Vulcans. Even at the time, Bashir had understood what an honour that was; the Vulcan Science Council only accepted alien scientists whom they held in the highest of regards. But, at the age of twenty-nine, Tanner was already one of the top researchers in her field.
Bashir remembered so many things, large and small. He remembered that Tanner had been there, over a subspace link, to support him when he had broken up with his girlfriend before leaving Earth. He remembered a trip to the Martian outback they had taken with several other Starfleet cadets, and looking up at Olympus Mons for the first time.
And he remembered telling her about the genetic enhancements, the first of his friends he had ever told. She had taken it in stride, pointing out to him that he did not seem hell bent on taking over the Federation, or to have any of personality disorders so many other enhanced people developed.
Bashir sighed, opening his eyes again, remembering vividly T'Sarak's even, calm expression as she suggested he think about his choices.
How could he, in good conscience, turn Tanner in after she had kept his secret for years?
"Doctor?", a voice said, startling him from his thoughts. Bashir jerked slightly and turned to see Odo standing behind him.
"Constable," Bashir returned, nodding.
"Are you all right?"
Bashir wanted to negate that, but nodded instead.
"Yes, fine."
"What are you doing here at this time of night?", the security chief.
"I was just– thinking," Bashir said. "I have a lot on my mind."
Odo gave him a calculating look, then nodded slightly.
"All right," he said, and turned to leave. Bashir watched the constable leave, then sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily.
"Computer, time," he requested.
"Oh-two hundred six," the computer droned.
"Dammit," Bashir muttered. He had to start his duty shift at oh-six hundred. He headed down to his quarters, hoping to catch a couple hours of sleep, at least, but when he arrived, there was a message awaiting him on his comscreen. With a sigh, Bashir flicked it on and found a reply from Doctor David Bearns. Carefully, Bashir read through it, unable to fight the relief he felt that Bearns had sent along only studies Bashir had already seen. There was nothing in there that matched the brain activity that Tanner exhibited.
He sat back in his chair, staring blankly at the screen, then shut it off. Rubbing his eyes wearily, Bashir rose and headed into his bedroom, taking off his uniform jacket before sinking onto the mattress. He ordered the lights off and lay in the darkness, drifting off to sleep.
"All right," Tanner said and Bashir jerked, looking over at her, then realized he must be dreaming. She was younger, and her hair was much shorter than it was now, and she wore a cadet uniform, that unflattering gray and blue.
"All right?", he asked. "That's it?"
"What else do you want me to say, Julian?", she asked, shrugging one shoulder.
"You're not disgusted?"
"What? Disgusted? Why?"
"I'm a mutant, Shan."
"Now that disgusts me, Julian. You are not a mutant."
"My genetic structure was altered. That makes me a mutant."
She stared at him, and he shifted uncomfortably.
"Is that how you see yourself?", she asked, her voice sharp. "You were genetically enhanced. Every gene you have is still human, it just operates at a higher efficiency that most people."
Bashir stood, covering his mouth with his hands.
"Than all people," he said somewhat indistinguishably.
Tanner stood as well.
"Are you trying to isolate yourself, Julian?"
"You don't know what it's like to be different like this, Shan," he insisted.
She gave a short, sharp laugh and, startled, he looked over at her.
"Do you realize who you're talking to, Julian?", she asked, shaking her head. "By the time I was three years old, I could read. By the time I was five, I was learning the multiplication tables and was put into an advanced learning program. Julian, my mother is one of the foremost mathematicians in the Federation, and my father helped design the sustainable warp nine-point-nine engine. When I was seventeen, my IQ was tested and is one of the highest in recent record. I know what it's like to be different like this! All right, maybe if you ask me the square route of seventy-one I have to say eight and a bit, and you could get it instantly, but that doesn't make you the smartest person ever, and it certainly doesn't make you alone."
He glared at her.
"When I was six, I was still struggling with the difference between a house and a cat! When I was seven, I was in an advanced program. When you were three, you could already speak two languages."
"So? Just because I was born this way and you came into it later doesn't make you better than everyone else, or more alone. Julian, do you want to be isolated? Do you want this to stand between us? Because I really don't care that you were enhanced. It wasn't your choice and it obviously turned out well. I've never seen an ounce of overambition in you, no desire to control everything and impose your will on everyone. You're a good person, Julian Bashir. Why can't you accept that I think that?"
Bashir was silent for a moment.
"This really won't change your opinion of me?"
"Of course it does, but it doesn't make my opinion bad. Now I know more about you. It's just something that is. Jules."
He sighed.
"Jules Bashir died when he was six, Shan. That's why I don't let anyone call me that."
"He didn't die, he just became what he was meant to be. But I won't call you that if you don't like it."
He just shook his head, frustrated.
"You don't get to decide for me what I think about this, or about you," Tanner said fiercely. "And you're my best friend. Do you think I'd drop you like a hot reactor coil just because of something that happened to you when you were a kid? Did you think I'd consider you a fraud? The Julian Bashir I've always known has always stayed his course and wanted only one thing from his life: to be a doctor. Is telling me this supposed to change that? Or anything? I don't think you're a fraud and I think you belong in Starfleet, Julian. We'd be worse for the loss of you. And you'd be worse for the loss of your dream."
Bashir sighed, rubbing his chin.
"Did you think telling me would make me run off and rat on you? Come on, Julian, you know me better than that. This isn't some sick little secret that means you should be removed from society. This is just you. And if there were something strange or secret about me that you knew, I'd expect you not to hold it against me, because you are my friend, and that is the only thing that should matter."
He woke up and stared toward the ceiling in the darkness, seeing not the faint shadows that defined the bedroom, but Tanner's younger face, her eyes blazing, her jaw set.
Slowly, Bashir sat up and rubbed his eyes, before checking the time. He had half an hour before he normally would have woken up, so he made no move to leave the bed, just stared blankly in the darkened space in front of him.
He couldn't count how many times he had played that conversation over and over in his head in the past several years. It meant much to him to know that at least one person out there knew him for all he really was, and liked him all the same. Tanner had never so much as hinted she might reveal his secret, even now, when he was threatening to reveal hers.
"Ah, Julian," he said to himself, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.
He realized only now that his refusal to talk to anyone about Tanner's genetic anomaly, except T'Sarak, who already knew, had been a sign from some ignored part of his mind. He didn't want to tell anyone. He thought he should, and he had been excited by the prospect of what Tanner's genetic mutation meant.
But, behind that, some part of him had been screaming at him to leave it. Because it was Tanner. Because she was a person. She was his friend.
And the whole time he had known her, she'd also stayed her course and had only wanted one thing as well. That one thing was different, but the drive and the intelligence were there without doubt. How could he condemn her to a life she didn't want, when she had steadfastly refused to do the same to him?
With a heartfelt sigh, Bashir rose from his bed and took the time to prepare properly for his duty shift. He could have used more sleep, and, as a doctor, he knew perfectly well that sleeping more the next night wouldn't make up for it; it didn't work that way. But he had other things to do.
After cleaning up and dressing, he stood in the livingroom of his quarters, rubbing his hands together.
"Computer, locate Lieutenant Commander Shannon Tanner," he instructed.
"Lieutenant Commander Tanner is in her quarters," the computer replied.
With a curt nod to himself, Bashir left his quarters and strode through the habitat ring until he reached Tanner's guest quarters. He sounded the buzzer and was rewarded a minute later with a freshly woken Tanner evaluating him carefully.
"Yes?", she asked. He'd always admired the way she never seemed groggy when interrupted in the middle of the night.
"I was wrong," he said plainly.
Tanner stared at him for a moment, then backed away, motioning for him to come in. Bashir did, and the door shut and locked behind him.
"All right," Tanner said.
"No, not all right. Shan, I am so sorry." He grasped her upper arms lightly. "But I promise that no one will ever find out from me. You promised me the same thing once, and how could I do this to you? You're my friend."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Tanner's lips and she nodded, then opened her arms and pulled him into a hug. Bashir hugged back, feeling the full weight of the relief of his decision.
"I can alter your medical records," he said when they'd pulled apart. "To make it look like these readings are normal for you, that you've had them your whole life and that they've been investigated before and are just a superficial anomaly."
Tanner raised her eyebrows.
"Will that work?"
"I can make it work," Bashir assured her. "Starfleet doctors trust Starfleet medical records. Unless you get a really suspicious bastard, you'll be fine. And even then, you don't have to be examined if you chose not to be; after all, this won't look like an abnormal condition for you."
Tanner smiled fully now, shaking her head.
"I hope the head doctor on the Blessing Way isn't a suspicious bastard."
"What his name? Or hers?"
"He. Doctor Fahad el Naser."
Bashir frowned a moment at the familiarity of the name, then snapped his fingers.
"I know him! Do you remember the man in my class from the UAE?"
Tanner thought a moment.
"The tall one? Who played the cello?"
"That's him. Graduated fifth. He's a good man, Shan. You could trust him if you need to."
At that, Tanner smiled.
"Good," she said. "That's good to know." She paused. "Well, since you woke me up at this ungodly hour, how would you like to buy me breakfast?"
Bashir's face relaxed into a smile.
"You're on."
"Great. Give me a minute."
She vanished and came back a few minutes later in her uniform, twisting her long hair into a braid. They left her quarters and headed for the promenade together, two of the strangest humans in the galaxy, but, at the moment, Bashir felt more normal and more himself than he ever had.