All language subtitles for Star.Trek.DS9.s01e17.The.Forsaken

Station Log, Stardate 46925.1.

We have been honored
with a visit

by a delegation
of Federation ambassadors

on a fact-finding mission
to the wormhole.

Fortunately,
I have just the officer

to take them off my hands.

I only wish there was something
I could do, Ambassador.

Madam Ambassador.

Madam Ambassador.

But all the guest
quarters on the station

are roughly the same size.

Then move me to the crew level.

All the quarters
on the crew level

are currently occupied.

Then someone can move.

You, for example.

She did the same thing
during the voyage here.

She's never satisfied.

At least I didn't bother
the Captain every hour

with some new suggestion
on how to run his ship.

He welcomed my suggestions

as I'm sure your Commander Sisko
will welcome them

if we ever get
to spend any time with him.

Well, Commander Sisko
is extremely busy.

With what?

With... the...
recalibration sweep.

What are you recalibrating?

Mmm? Everything.

Um, it's a sweeping...

uh, a recalibration
of all systems.

I cannot speak for the others,
but I would be fascinated

to observe this recalibration,
Doctor.

You would?

Well, after your long trip

I thought you might enjoy
stopping by a holosuite.

Are you actually suggesting

we indulge in one of those
disgusting Ferengi sex programs?

No.

I... the holosuites are capable
of many different...

Of course

that's what he was suggesting.

The Arbazan
are so sexually repressed.

Why, this is outrageous.

Perhaps we should all
just get some rest.

I did not come all this way
to rest, Doctor.

I would like to see
your facility.

A first-year officer
assigned as our liaison.

Starfleet Command
will hear of this.

Ambassador...
Madam Ambassador

I'm only...

Oh, where is it?!

Oh, it's gone, it's gone!

What's gone, Madam Ambassador?

Oh, my latinum hairbrooch.

Quark!

I had just made
my third straight cross.

I was leaning across the table
to pick up the dice again

something brushed against me

and my God!

I've been wigged.

What's the problem, here?

Someone has stolen Ambassador
Troi's latinum hairbrooch.

I'm sorry, but as the sign says,
the establishment

is not responsible

for the loss
of any personal items.

Sign? What sign?

The one above the door.

You'd have to stand on a chair
to read that.

House rules.

I'm very sorry.

Have a nice day.

You are dealing

with the daughter
of the Fifth House

Holder of the Sacred
Chalice of Rixx

Heir to the Holy
Rings of Betazed.

Not my ear, please!

Yes, and I know
where it hurts the most

you little troll.

Now, I want this room sealed

and I want everyone
in it strip-searched

until you find my brooch.

May I be of service?

Oh, thank goodness.

Our Chief of Security, Odo.

What seems to be the problem?

Well, my brooch has been stolen.

It's been in my family
for 36 generations.

It's absolutely priceless
and I want it back.

You're certain
you were wearing it today?

Yes, of course I'm certain.

I never use this hair
without it.

I see.

You're... Betazoid?

Of course.

Telepathic?

Yes.

And you sense no guilt
anywhere in this room?

No, but Betazoids
cannot read Ferengis.

Quark has plenty of reason
to feel guilty

but he usually doesn't
have to resort to petty theft

to fleece his clients.

Thank you.

Wait a minute.

Empty your pockets now.

Well...

since when did you
join Starfleet?

That's it... that's my brooch.

But how did you know?

Dopterians are distant
relatives of the Ferengi.

It made sense that, since
you couldn't read Quark

you might not be able to read
this charming fellow either.

Oh, how perfectly
brilliant of you.

Doctor, I want to know
everything there is to know

about your Security Chief.

Computer, is the diagnostic

on the fusion power plant
finished yet?

Affirmative.

The fusion power plant
is operating

within normal parameters.

What are you talking about?

It's 13% %% below normal.

Cardassian specifications

accept operating efficiency
within 20% %% .

Well, I don't.

Anara.

Yes, sir.

How much do you know
about carbon reaction chambers?

I've learned a little
about laser-induced fusion

not much more than the basics.

Ah, it's a bloody
inefficient system.

I'd trade it in for a Federation
model tomorrow if I could

but it's all we've got.

Do me a favor.

Keep an eye on the exhaust
plasma temperature.

Computer, increase
deuterium flow

by five percent
to reaction chamber two.

Procedure is not recommended.

Look, I've had enough
of your opinions, damn it.

Just do it!

Procedure is not recommended.

Consult Cardassian
operational guidelines

paragraph 254-A, now on screen.

I don't want to read
your tech manual.

Fine.

We'll do it ourselves.

Reinitializing reactor two.

Directing plasma flow
to conduits 143, 144...

Chief O'Brien, the power flow
from reactor two

has just been shut down.

What?

Computer, analyze
reactor two failure.

Reactor two was shut down
after sensors detected

a potential overload
of the carbon reaction chambers.

That's it.
That's the straw!

Relax, Chief.

It's just a computer.

This is no computer.

This is my archenemy.

You've got it working
just fine, as far I can tell.

Fine? With all due respect,
Commander

as an engineer, I couldn't
look at myself in the mirror

if I allowed this computer

to continue to perform
as it is now.

I'll have to do a root canal.

Root canal?

It's engineering shorthand, sir.

I'll have to get into its guts

and rebuild it
from the ground up.

How long will that take?

Well, I'm still
not that familiar

with Cardassian technology

but, oh, I guess no more
than two, three years.

That's going to take
a lot of man-hours.

Is it really necessary?

You don't understand...

Let's just say I don't have

your sensitivity
to the computer.

That's all right.
Forget about it.

Uh, Chief...

It's all right.
It doesn't matter.

Chief, I want you to do
what you have to do.

Thank you, sir.

I'll get right on it.

And this is Ops.

The heart and soul
of Deep Space 9.

Ah, there you are, Commander.

Gentlemen, Madam Ambassador.

They insisted on seeing
operations, sir.

Of course.

Make yourselves at home.

I trust that Doctor Bashir

has been taking care
of all your needs.

Well, he refuses to change
my accommodations.

Accommodations?

Well, if I have to sleep
another night

on a Cardassian bed
with gargoyles staring at me

from the wood poles...

Commander.

An unidentified vessel
is coming through the wormhole.

On screen.
Excuse me.

Uh, you'll get a better view
from over here.

Quite a sight, isn't it?

That's it?

That's the whole thing?

Well, yes, it is.

I was expecting more, somehow.

Scanners aren't picking up
any life-forms on board.

A probe?

Might be.

I'm reading an extensive
computer array

but no signals to suggest
it's trying to maintain contact

with a mother ship.

Are the computers
compatible with ours?

It's hard to tell.

I don't recognize any known
subprocessor patterns.

Obviously, the young woman
doesn't have

the necessary experience.

Perhaps I can...

The "young woman" over there

has over 300 years
experience, Ambassador.

I might have better luck

if we towed it
into the docking ring.

No, not until we know
a little bit more about it.

Major, tow it to 500 meters
off the docking ring.

Yes, sir.

Mr. O'Brien, try to set up
an adaptive interface link

and see if we can download
any information from it.

Aye, sir.

I think it will be best
if we clear this area.

But this probe may represent
contact with a new species.

Commander, I think
it would be appropriate

for at least one
Federation ambassador

to be present
at this historic occasion

and since I have
a particular interest

in First Contact procedures...

I appreciate your interest,
Ambassador

and to keep you all informed,
I'm scheduling a briefing

at 0400.

In the meantime, Dr. Bashir

the best place
to view this probe

is from the docking ring
near Port Seven.

I'll show them the way.

Such concentration.

Such intensity,
such passion for your work.

Tracking intergalactic
malefactors.

Most people find it
rather tedious.

Tedious?

No, those of us
who have been beneficiaries

of your heroism

would never call
your work tedious.

We've learned that,
on this station

you are the thin, beige line
between order and chaos.

That's my job.

Now, what can I do for you?

You haven't lost
anything else, I hope.

Only my heart.

I beg your pardon?

Is, um...

is Odo your first or last name?

Yes.

Oh. Then I can
just call you, uh...?

Odo.

It has a certain
lyrical quality.

Lyrical?

Odo...

It rolls off the tongue.

Uh...

I have a lot of work to do.

I understand
you're a shape-shifter.

That's correct.

I've never been
with a shape-shifter.

"Been with?"

I've heard that you're
the only one of your kind.

So far.

Mmm.

All the men I've known

have needed to be shaped,
and molded, and manipulated

and finally I've met a man

who knows how to do it himself.

Oh...

Is that the com?

I think it is.

Excuse me.

I've got to get to Ops.

Initiating high-resolution scan.

Memory nodes located.

Proceeding with data transfer.

Yeah, there you go.

Who would have thought?

You seem surprised, Chief.

Well, knowing this computer,
I thought I would have had

to reconfigure
the whole emulator module

to make it compatible
with the probe

but it's cooperating for once.

Transfer of data is complete.

Well done, computer.

Computer,
run standard code translations

on probe data.

Isolate syntax results.

Processing.

Stand by.

Come in.

Yes, Odo.

Commander...

I have a problem.

Quark again?

No, sir.

This one is named Lwaxana.

Lwaxana Troi, the ambassador?

That's her.

There was a minor incident
at the bar

that I helped her with,
and now she's...

grateful.

What's the problem?

The manner in which she
expresses her gratitude.

To be honest,
Commander, she seems...

interested in me.

What's wrong with that?

She's extremely aggressive.

I see.
So she's after you.

Like a Wanoni tracehound.

Have you thought
of letting her catch you?

Sir?

A little romance, Odo.

I have six pylons that need
a complete security sweep.

I don't have time
for romantic interludes.

Frankly, in my humble opinion,
most of you humanoids

spend far too much time

on your
respective mating rituals.

It does help the procreation
of one's species.

Procreation does not require
changing how you smell

or writing bad poetry,
or sacrificing various plants

to serve as tokens of affection.

In any event,
it's all irrelevant to me.

I'm sorry to hear that.

I would appreciate it
if you would

do something about this woman.

Me?

Just tell her to leave me alone.

Constable, you can handle

thieves and killers,
but not one Betazoid woman?

I understand
thieves and killers.

I don't understand... her.

I can't help you, Odo.

I'm just trying to avoid
a diplomatic incident.

I don't want
to insult the Ambassador.

A reasonable concern.

I suggest you handle the matter
with great delicacy.

I don't handle "delicacy"
very well.

The probe appears to be made

out of some sort
of corundium alloy.

Analysis of all subprocessor
modules is complete.

Already?

On screen.

Lieutenant?

No science modules

no communications system

and enough computer
capacity to run

a Galaxy-class starship.

It's very odd.

That's an awful lot
of computer hardware

simply to navigate a probe.

Anything?

Nothing to suggest
the probe's mission...

or any hint of its origin.

Ah! There you are, Odo!

Have you ever been

on the fourth moon
of Andevian II at dawn?

Can't say I have.

I have the most
wonderful holoprogram.

And I've reserved
a suite for us

with that Quark person.

You told Quark that you were
going into a holosuite with me?

Well, of course.

He's preparing a special
picnic basket for us.

Good Lord.

I'm afraid I'm not available.

I have to get to Upper
Pylon 3 immediately.

Madam Ambassador...

Oh, Lwaxana.

Um... Upper Pylon 3.

I've always wanted
to see an upper pylon.

I know... I'll have Quark

send one of his minions
with our basket.

We'll have our picnic
up there.

Madam Ambassador...

Oh, Lwaxana.

I don't eat.

This is not a real mouth.

It is an approximation of one.

I do not have an esophagus
or a stomach

or a digestive system.

I am not like you.

Every 16 hours,
I turn into a liquid.

I can swim.

Oh...

Computer?

Computer!

Odo to Ops.

Go ahead, Odo.

Ambassador Troi and I
are stuck in Turbolift 7.

What's going on?

Power to the pylon
turbolifts has failed.

We're reading
a turbolift failure, Odo.

We'll beam you out.

Locking on.

Prepare to transport.

Ready.

Energizing.

Well?

Looks like the transporter
is down, too.

But don't worry, Constable.

We'll get it repaired
right away.

Dax to Chief O'Brien.

Please report
to Ops immediately.

Be patient, Odo.

We'll get you out of there
as soon as we can.

Well, alone at last.

Electromotive coil functions,
normal.

Load detection functions,
normal.

Diagnostic complete.

I don't get it.

Every component
of the turbolift power net

seems to be operational.

We can't find anything wrong
with the transporter.

Great, everything's
in working order

except nothing's working.

How do we get our people
out of the turbolift, Chief?

Well, if we were on a starship,
I'd reroute the EPS power flow

in a couple of hours,
but, with this computer

there's no telling
how long it'll take.

Get it started.

Kira to Odo.

Yes, Major?

I'm sorry, but you're going

to have to stay put
for a while longer.

Define "a while."

I wish I knew.

By the way,
Cardassian turbolifts

run exposed, multi-phased
alternating currents

through their
positioning mechanisms

so don't try to shape-shift
your way out.

I wouldn't think of it.

Besides, it wouldn't be polite.

I didn't hear that.

It wouldn't be polite.

Understood.

Kira out.

Do you suppose that we're, uh...

we're actually in any danger?

Not if we remain calm.

Ah.

Well, then we might as well
enjoy ourselves.

Uh, we can take the opportunity
to get to know each other.

I'd really prefer
to pass the time quietly.

- Quietly.
- Quietly.

Of course.

Thank you.

Mmm.

The quiet man.

Hmm.

You know, I've always been
attracted to quiet men.

Odd, isn't it?

But maybe there's

more truth than we realize
to that old axiom that op...

Quietly.

Odo.

Yes?

I don't think I can.

Can what?

Well, you don't have
to say another word

as long as we're here

but I, I think
I really need to talk.

I understand.

There's nothing to be afraid of.

Of course not.

No, things could be much worse.

Really?

My daughter and I
were once trapped

aboard a Ferengi cargo ship,
and it was dreadful.

Well, all right,
it wasn't actually dreadful.

It was mildly lamentable

and it was all because
of that loathsome DaiMon.

Well...

actually, he wasn't
altogether loathsome.

He was just slightly repulsive.

But he did have
a certain charm...

in an insufferable kind of way.

Of course, he was
totally at the mercy

of his uncontrollable
passion for me

which means he wasn't
all bad, now, doesn't it?

And you know, it wasn't
all passion, no.

There was some negligible
commercial interest involved

but, oh, the passion...

oh, that was...
that was perfectly real

and kind of, um,
kind of sweet in a way.

He was so helpless.

At first, it was totally
a question of expediency

when I made love with him.

What are you looking at?

- Hmm?
- Hmm?

Oh.

Uh, nothing.

I was just wondering
how many volts

are in that exposed circuit.

Go on. Go on.

Well... frankly

by the time one thing
led to another...

Think of it
as an opportunity, Doctor.

You never know
when a friendly ambassador

is going to be
in the right place

at the right time
to help your career.

Another hour with them
could destroy my career.

It's a simple job.

Just keep them happy
and away from me.

Simple?

Nothing makes them happy.

They are dedicated
to being unhappy

and to spreading that
unhappiness wherever they go.

They are the Ambassadors
of Unhappy.

All of us have had
these assignments, Doctor.

Have you, sir?

As a matter of fact

Curzon Dax
used to take perverse pleasure

in assigning me
to take care of VIP guests.

Oh, so now you take
the same perverse pleasure

in doing it to me.

Exactly.

May I ask, sir

when you graduated
from this sort of assignment?

The day I hit one of the guests.

Hit one...

It was a simple misunderstanding

over his attempt
to coax a young Ensign

to his quarters
against her will.

But...

don't hit one of them,
Doctor.

I'm not nearly as understanding
as Curzon was.

Yes, sir.

Commander, can I talk to you?

It's about the computer, sir.

Still giving you problems?

No, sir, that's just the thing,
it's not.

It rerouted the EPS power flow
in less than an hour.

That's good news.

How soon can we get Odo
and the Ambassador out?

We can't.

It didn't activate
the turbolift circuits.

Don't ask me why.

You must have some idea
of what's wrong.

I want you to listen
to something.

Computer, analyze Ops
0-2 sensor readings.

All sensors read
between 14.3 and 14.4 KSC.

Computer, restart all shield
generator subsystems.

Shield generator subsystems
set to active status.

Reading 98.3% %% efficiency.

Do you hear it?

Hear what?

The voice...
it's not the same attitude.

It sounds like the computer.

Sir, when you work
with a computer as much as I do

you get to know it.

They're all very different.

Working with
the Enterprise computer

was like dancing a waltz.

With this computer, it's always
been like a wrestling match...

till we started
downloading the probe.

You think some kind
of program from the probe

is influencing our computer?

Well, it's got to be more
than just a program, sir.

The computer's whole personality
has changed.

It's not resisting any commands

offering any opinions,
giving any arguments

and there's this
one other crazy thing

I'm almost afraid to mention.

What's that?

Every time I leave

something happens
to bring me back.

Bring you back?

To the computer...
like the failures

to the turbolifts
and the transporters.

A few minutes ago, I was working
at the transporter pad

and the com lines went down

and when I broke
for a quick bite to eat

we had a replicator failure.

It's almost like the computer

doesn't want me
to leave it alone.

You almost make it sound
like a child.

Station Log, supplemental.

Odo and Ambassador Troi
remain trapped in Turbolift 4.

As of yet, we have been unable
to ascertain what it is

that's causing the station's
computer to malfunction.

What if it's some kind
of nonbiological life-form

we've never seen before?

Nonbiological?

Well, it all comes down
to how we define life-form.

But just as biological organisms
have evolved in our cultures

mechanical life could have
done the same in others.

You're suggesting someone
left a baby at our doorstep.

Possibly.

Do you think we can
communicate with it?

Well, in a way, we already have.

I mean, it's part and parcel
of our computer now.

But as far as direct
communication is concerned

it may not be capable of that.

We haven't seen any evidence
that this entity is sentient.

Maybe more like a stray puppy

that's attached itself
to you, Chief.

Whatever it is, it's slowly
disabling our station.

People, we've got
to get it out of there.

It came here when we downloaded
the probe's files.

If we upload those same files
back to the probe

it might go with them.

What if it's fully integrated
itself into our computer?

I don't think it has.

That would make it
more like a virus.

But I don't see any evidence
that it's trying to overwrite

our control networks
or destroy our systems.

I think it's more
likely that it simply

creates connections

with areas of the computer
that are active.

Almost as though it
feeds off the energy

of the computer functions.

If I'm right, transferring
all of its programming

off the station might
just solve our problems.

How long since we had
any communication from Odo?

Com lines have been
down over 90 minutes.

He's been in there
almost four hours now.

Do you happen to know
the schedule

of his regenerative cycle?

My God, I have no idea

but if he doesn't get back
to his pail in time...

Subspace emitter aligned.

Outgoing data stream activated.

Computer, upload
all probe command sequences

back to probe's computer.

Stand by.

Unable to complete
requested function.

Please abort and retry.

Reset subspace emitter.

Reinitialize data stream.

Receptors open.

Control relays activated.

Upload all probe
command sequences

back to probe's computers.

Stand by.

It's not as easy as I thought
it would be, Commander.

Is it just the lights
or the heat, too?

I didn't bring any warm clothes.

I'm sure it's just temporary.

I've been reading the reports

of your Chief of Operations,
Doctor.

They gave me the impression

that he was
a competent engineer.

Chief O'Brien?

One of the best in Starfleet.

Then why aren't
the backup systems functioning?

Well, you know

out here on the edge
of the frontier

it's just one adventure
after another.

Why don't I escort you all
back to your quarters?

Where I'm sure we can
all wait this one out.

But enough about me.

Hmm?

Enough about me.

Tell me about yourself.

I'm really a private man.

Yes, of course you are.

Is that hair real?

It is real in that it is me.

It is not real hair.

How did you do it?

Your hair.

It took a great deal
of practice.

You studied hairstyles?

If you must know

I imitated the hairstyle

of the Bajoran man
who was assigned to me.

Assigned?

To study me
at the research center.

He was a scientist.

You mean that's how you grew up

in a laboratory?

I did not grow up

as you think of it.

It was merely a transition
from what I used to be

to what I learned to become.

Oh.

It sounds very lonely to me.

I was always
very self-sufficient.

I'm sure you had to be...

uh, to survive

being... being so different
from everyone else.

Odo to Ops.
Odo to Ops.

Com lines are still down.

I don't know
what's taking so long.

Are you sure you're all right?

You look warm.

It's nothing.
I'm fine.

Oh, I can't imagine
how it must have been.

You know, if it bothers
you to talk about this...

Not at all.

What was it like?

I guess you could say
I was the life of the party.

I don't think I understand.

My way of trying to fit in...

I found I could be entertaining.

"Odo, be a chair."

I'm a chair.

"Odo, be a razorcat."

I'm a razorcat.

Life of the party.

I hate parties.

Perhaps you've been going
to the wrong ones.

Come to one of mine, Odo.

I'll make sure
that all the guests

are there to entertain you.

Now, now, you're not well.

No, it's fine.

It's just a...

I told you I turn
into a liquid every 16 hours.

Well, I'm in hour 15.

Ready, Commander.

How long do you
expect it to take?

Well, if it works

we ought to be able to get
all the probe's files

manually transferred
to the six isolinear rods

in less than 60 seconds.

Let's do it.

Computer, run
a level-1 diagnostic

of all power systems on board.

Requested function
will require 43 minutes.

Stand by.

Computer, give me an analysis

of all Cardassian traffic
along the border.

Processing long-range sensors.

Stand by.

Computer,
create a historical data base

for all known wormhole activity.

Indicate time parameters.

All known occurrences.

Requested function
will require subspace link-up.

In that case, create a subspace
link with Nehru Colony

New France Colony
and Corado I Transmitter Array.

Attempting link-up.

Stand by...

Computer, access musical files
in the Bajor Master Data Banks

and create a concert program
of Bajoran serenas.

Stand... by...

Unable to...

Stand...

I'm reading a huge plasma surge
in the Habitat Ring.

You tell Commander Sisko that I
expect that probe briefing

to be held on schedule,
lights or no lights.

I will surely pass
that on, Ambassador.

We've got a plasma explosion

in corridor H-12-A,
guest quarters.

The computer's not responding.

None of the fire suppression
systems are coming on line.

I'm reading four life-forms
in that corridor.

Major, you're with me.

Chief, get an emergency crew
down there.

We'll need manual fire gear.

Aye, sir.

Phasers at maximum.

Toranium inlay,
Cardassian design...

I should have guessed.

We're going to need a bipolar
torch to get through it.

Then get a message to Ops.

Tell them it's going to take us
a while to get inside.

If they can't get the fire
suppression systems on line

we're going to lose
our people in there.

Aye, sir.

It's not paying
any attention to me.

I guess it just
doesn't want to leave...

like a scared puppy.

We have no idea how long
that probe was tumbling

through space... maybe years...

with that life-form
alone on board.

It's sort of like shutting up
a puppy in a room, you know?

I had a pup once.

If I had to lock him up

he'd scratch forever at the door
trying to get out.

I'm not sure I know
what you're getting at.

Pups don't like
to be left alone.

They like attention.

This one is certainly
getting a lot of it.

That's right.

So it's no wonder
it doesn't want to leave.

Okay, but how is that
going to help us?

Everything we've seen suggests

that this entity likes
to be where the action is.

It seems to feed off the energy
of an active computer.

We've been trying to separate it
from what it thrives on.

We've got to do
the exact opposite.

The exact opposite?

Lieutenant, I've got
to build a doghouse.

Odo to Ops.

Odo out.

Odo, turn around.

I can't.

It's beginning.

It's all right.

You don't understand.

No one has ever seen me
like this before.

Not even the scientist
who was assigned to you?

That was different.

It was only research to him.

But you don't have
to be ashamed with me.

I'm not ashamed.

It's a private matter,
that's all.

How can I make it easier
for you?

You can't.

I'm fine.

What's that?

My hair.

No one's ever seen me like this.

Why?

It looks fine.

It looks ordinary.

I've never cared to be ordinary.

So you see, Odo,
even we non-shape-shifters

have to change who we are
once in a while.

You are not at all
what I expected.

No one's ever paid me
a greater compliment.

I... cannot hold my shape
any longer.

Let go.

I'll take care of you.

We're going to need
portable oxygen

and get anything

Bashir has in stock
to treat plasma burns.

Have a runabout ready

to evacuate these people
to Bajor if we need to.

Yes, sir.

Anara?

The subprogram is ready, Chief.

Computer, analyze subprogram
labeled "Pup."

Requested subprogram is a series
of bidirectional data transfer

and monitoring commands.

Reroute all main computer
backup functions

through this subprogram.

All backup functions rerouted.

Great.

Okay, computer.

Now, listen carefully.

I want to transfer
all probe command sequences

out of core memory
and into the subprogram, Pup.

Stand by.

Transfer complete.

Dax to Sisko.

Fire suppression is responding.

All systems are back on line.

Can you get in?

We're in, Dax.
Stand by.

We'd better advise
Starfleet Command.

Are you all right?

Here, take my hand,
Madam Ambassador.

Watch your head.

Please, Julian.

Call me Taxco.

Ambassador, are you all right?

Yes. Thanks to Julian.

The Doctor was remarkably
calm and logical

for a man of his years
under such severe conditions.

We'll be putting him in
for a commendation.

Nice work, Dr. Bashir.

Just in the right place
at the right time, sir.

Well, it's about time.

I... know that wasn't
exactly what you had in mind

for your picnic.

When it comes to picnics

the only thing
that really matters

is the company.

Your sensitivity and discretion
are appreciated.

Well...

next time you see me

I'll give you
a lot more to appreciate.

How did you beat that thing
in the computer, Chief?

I didn't.

He adopted it.

Adopted it?

Well, I was able
to get our friend

out of the main command pathways
and into a subprogram.

You're suggesting
we leave it in there?

I don't see why not.

It's happy.
It's not bothering us anymore.

Well, it seems
the humane thing to do.

It's just another new life-form
visiting the station.

I'll take care of it.

Make sure it gets
enough attention and all.

Keep it off the furniture.

Yes, sir.