All language subtitles for Star.Trek.Deep.Space.Nine.S07E13.UHQ.NTSC.DVDRip.DD5.1.x264-Hi10P-LiGHTSPEED

Well, listen up, listen up.

To Lieutenant Hector Ilario --

living proof that Starfleet
Academy produces the finest

fighter pilots in the galaxy...

- Hear, hear.
- I haven't finished yet.

Don't ruin it, Julian. That's
just what a toast should be --

short and to the point.

I wouldn't mind hearing
a little more.

Now, now -- modesty above all.

This is no time
to be modest. This man...

this youth, this mere pup
still wet behind the ears...

I'm 22.

I was speaking metaphorically.

This inspired cherub

masterfully piloted
the Defiant into battle

against a half a dozen
Jem'Hadar attack ships

and once all the
smoke had cleared

only one ship remained intact

and that, ladies and gentlemen

was the USS Defiant.

The kid's a born helmsman.

And so say all of us.

Hear, hear!

Well, thanks.

I'm just glad to be here.

It's the best posting
in the galaxy.

If there's anything you want --
anything at all -- just ask.

Well, there is one thing.

Name it.

Next time you two go
to the holosuite,

I'd like to come along.

- Oh, well, I'm sorry.
- Can't be done.

- No. It's out of the question.
- It's impossible.

Don't take it personally.

They're very serious about
their leisure activities.

It's a good
way to relieve stress.

Yeah. I highly
recommend it.

Just not with us.

Yeah. You know, when you
have a holosuite visit,

it's sort of a
personal experience.

He's very particular

about anybody seeing
him in his coonskin cap.

You understand.

I suppose.

Gentlemen,
your holosuite is ready.

Terrific.

Now, if there's
anything else you need...

Just let us know.

Have you ever gone to
the holosuite with them?

Me? Never.

Huh.

I know when I'm not wanted.

To the class of '72.

Another round?

- No.
- No.

Time to go?

It was time to go
about an hour ago.

Okay.

Oh, oh, okay.
We'll get you home.

I'll take him.
His quarters are on my way.

You sure?

He won't be the first drunken
Ensign I've escorted home.

Someday, remind me to tell
you about a bar on Bolarus

and a certain young Mr. Sisko.

This way.

I never had real
Saurian brandy before.

It's Captain Sisko's favorite.

It kind of sneaks up
on you, doesn't it?

Speaking of sneaking up
on you...

here we are -- home sweet home.

You all right?

Do you want some raktajino?

I'm fine. Fine.

I wish they could
have been there.

They would've loved it.

To see me fly
the Defiant into battle.

It was incredible.

I should get going.

Make sure you get some sleep.

You know something, Lieutenant?

You're very beautiful.

And you're very drunk.

True enough,

but in the morning,
I'll be sober

and you'll still be beautiful.

Good night, Ilario.

Good night, Lieutenant.

The time is 0600 hours.

The time is 0600 hours
and ten seconds.

Yeah, yeah. I'm up.

Fanalian tea. Hot.

- Full security alert.
- Yes, sir.

Get everybody back.
Hurry up.

What happened?

Lieutenant Ilario
has been killed.

Killed? How?

It appears someone shot him.

He was killed by
what appears to be some kind

of chemically propelled
projectile weapon.

A gun?

Dr. Bashir recovered a single
tritanium bullet from Ilario's chest.

He was shot through the heart.

You don't see
one of those every day.

Nobody uses projectile
weapons anymore.

You said this is
tritanium, right?

That's correct.

Chief, did you ever hear
of a TR-116 rifle?

It was a prototype
developed by Starfleet Security

to operate in
energy dampening fields

or radiogenic environments.

That's right.

Anywhere where a normal phaser
would be useless.

If I'm not mistaken,
the TR-116 rifle fired

a chemically propelled
tritanium bullet.

You say a prototype.

Were they ever mass-produced?

No. Starfleet
abandoned the TR-116

in favor of
regenerative phasers.

That doesn't mean the killer
couldn't have gotten hold

of the rifle's
replication patterns.

But only Starfleet officers
have access to those files.

Disturbing thought, isn't it?

Starfleet officers do not go
around murdering other officers.

Not usually, anyway.

Hold on a minute.

That's odd.

According to these readings,

the bullet only traveled
eight or nine centimeters.

Then the killer must have
fired at point-blank range.

I don't think so.

There are no powder
burns on the body.

What are powder burns?

At close range, chemically
propelled weapons

leave residual
combustion products

on the skin and clothing
of the victims.

How did you know that?

I read 20th century
crime novels --

Raymond Chandler, Mike Hammer --
that sort of thing.

Hmm.

So, if the killer did
fire from close range,

why aren't there
any powder burns?

I don't know.

But we'll find out.

What was the time of death?

0317.

That's only ten minutes
after I left.

Was he alone?

I didn't see anyone,
but I wasn't here for very long.

What do we know about Ilario
outside of his service record?

Not a great deal. He's only
been on the station for ten days.

As far as I could tell,

he was intelligent, dedicated,
eager to please.

Everyone liked him.

Not everyone.

I want to know everything
there is to know about him --

who his friends were,
if he made any enemies.

I also want increased
security throughout the station.

- Yes, sir.
- And, Constable...

You want whoever
did this caught.

I understand, Captain.

Ilario once told me
that he came from a big family --

three brothers and two sisters.

I thought it was two brothers
and three sisters.

I don't think so.

You sure?

Are you?

Don't look at me.

We never discussed his family.

Mostly he talked
about the Academy

and about the two of you.

Us?

He really admired both of you.

We should have let him
come to the holosuite with us.

You're right.
We should have.

I just wish I hadn't left
his quarters so quickly.

Maybe he'd still be alive.

Or you'd be dead
right there with him.

Odo will catch whoever
did this, won't he?

If anyone can.

We really should have let him
come to the holosuite with us.

Ezri.

Shouldn't you be in bed?

I was about to ask you
the same question.

I just couldn't sleep.

Me, neither.

You mustn't blame
yourself, you know,

for Ilario's death.

I don't.

Not really.

Then what is it?

It's just knowing
that he was murdered.

It's difficult to accept.

The whole concept
of someone killing

another person in cold blood --

it's almost
incomprehensible, isn't it?

Not to me.

Meaning what?

Meaning that I know exactly
what it feels like...

to feel the urge,
the need to take a life.

You're talking about Joran.

He killed three people.

He was the host to
the Dax symbiont just like me.

He was nothing like you.

I try not to think about it.

Jadzia felt the same way.

She tried to bury his memories
as deeply as she could...

but they're still there.

The victims...

what they looked like.

They weren't your victims.

I know.

But then something
like this happens and...

Just the thought of someone
like him being here right now.

You really should get some rest.

You're right.

Even if it does mean
lying in my bed

staring at the ceiling
for a few more hours.

Good night, Julian.

Good night.

Save your
complaints for the magistrate.

Is this the one
we've been looking for?

Ilario's killer.

Quite a clever one at that.

Why? Why did you do it?

You tell me, Counselor.

But... you're dead.

Don't tell me.
Tell him.

I'm sorry, Lieutenant.

There's nothing more annoying

than a corpse with
a mind of its own.

What?!

Dax to Security.

Odo?

Kira?

Anyone there?

Security, please, answer me!

- Joran.
- You recognize me.

How nice.

What do you want?

Respect, understanding...

love.

I wish you'd stop
being afraid of me.

It's not like we're strangers.

That worm in your belly
used to be mine,

which means I'm part of you.

Joran...

And you're part of me.

I'm nothing like you.

Is that so?

You want to find out
who killed Ilario, don't you?

Then what are you waiting for?

Perform the Rite of Emergence

and just ask for my help
and then we can get to work.

I don't want your help.

Maybe not, but you need it.

You murdered three people.

I don't want anything
to do with you.

- Now leave me alone!
- How can I?

There's nowhere else
for me to go.

I'm within you, Ezri,
all the time.

Use me.

No!

I can help.

I know how he thinks.

We can catch him, Ezri --
you and me together

and then we'll make him pay.

Sisko to Dax.

Report to Habitat Ring,
Level J-17.

What is it, Ben?

There's been another murder.

Report.

Lieutenant Commander
Greta Vanderweg,

Science Officer, human,
age 37, 12 years of service,

the last three
here on Deep Space Nine.

Cause of death:

tritanium bullet
fired at close range.

No powder burns.

Did Ilario and Vanderweg
know each other?

I'll look into it,
but it's doubtful.

Ilario was only here
for ten days.

Seven of them,
he was on the Defiant.

But why Ilario
and why Vanderweg?

Did someone have a personal
grudge against either one of them

or is someone just killing
our officers at random?

I still can't believe anyone in
Starfleet could be doing this.

There are over 900 Starfleet
officers posted on the station.

Odo, we have to narrow
the field of suspects.

Sir.

How well did you do in forensic
psychology at the Academy?

It wasn't my favorite subject.

We have to find out
why the killer's doing this.

I'll do my best.

I wonder why he chose a TR-116.

Instead of a phaser?

Yeah. I mean,
why use a rifle

if you're going to shoot
somebody from close range?

I don't know.

He or she may have, uh,
originally intended

to kill their victims
from a great distance

so they replicated
a long-range weapon.

Or they had some special
connection to this particular rifle.

You know, a fetish or
psychological obsession perhaps.

I suppose so.

Did you ever read
that biography I gave you

on Davy Crockett last month?

No, but I'll get to it.

No, no. There was
this fascinating section

about the mythology that grew up
around Crockett and his rifle.

There was this notion
that a man could have

a special relationship
with a weapon.

Some frontiersmen even went so
far as to give their rifles names --

female ones at that --

thus changing the relationship
between owner and object

to something resembling
man and woman.

Hmm. Maybe I'll start calling
my tricorder "Sally."

There's some great
tall tales in that book.

There's one particular story
where Crockett was supposed

to have put up a target
against a tree

and arranged a series
of tin frying pans nearby

in a complicated pattern.

The idea was that he was going to
shoot a bullet at one of these pans

which would then ricochet
to another and then to another

and then to another
and then to another...

Wait a minute. That's it.

Displaced targeting --
that's how he did it.

Who?

Well, the killer.

He set up an alternate
bullet trajectory --

one that didn't require
a direct line of sight

between him and the victim.

Julian, you're a genius.

Well, don't thank me.
Thank Davy Crockett.

What do you think?

Nice melon.

But what does it
have to do with us?

I have no idea.

All I know is that Chief O'Brien
wanted me to bring you here.

He said he has
something to show us.

O'Brien to Science Lab.

Go ahead, Chief.

Are you ready?

For what?

You'll see.

First put on those goggles that
are on the counter in front of you.

Now, take a step back
away from the melon.

A little further.

I've only done this
a couple of times.

How's this?

Good.

Wow.

Are you all right?

Better than that melon.

It worked.

I was able to fire a bullet
into that melon while standing

outside in the corridor.

You fired through the wall?

I don't see any bullet holes.

I attached a micro-transporter

to this TR-116.

When I fired, the bullet
was beamed into the room

a few centimeters
away from the melon.

Where it continued
its trajectory.

So, if the killer had
a similar transporter device

that would explain the lack of
powder burns on the victims.

And by using an exographic
targeting sensor,

he was able to scan
through the bulkheads.

So, he could have been firing
from anywhere on the station.

Can you trace the bullet's
transporter signatures back

to where the killer was
when he fired?

I'm afraid not.
The signature's too weak.

It's an ingenious weapon.

Whoever he is, he's smart.

Nothing.

No connection.

Who's there?

Who is it?

Quark, is that you?

This isn't funny.

Worf.

It is late. You should
be in your quarters.

Were you following me?

It is dangerous for you to be
wandering the Promenade alone.

You were worried about me?

There is a killer
on the station.

You have no right
to endanger yourself this way.

You were worried about me.

Thank you, Worf.
That's... sweet.

You are a fellow officer.

I would have the same concern
for Chief O'Brien or Dr. Bashir.

Of course.

I didn't mean
to imply otherwise.

Then we understand each other.

Perfectly.

How is the investigation coming?

Uh... slowly.

If I can assist you
in any way...

I appreciate it,
but you can't, really.

Nobody can.

Actually, that's not true.

There is someone who could help

but I don't want to ask him.

Why?

It's complicated.

Nevertheless, if he can help...

It wouldn't be very pleasant.

Perhaps not, but I am certain

that you will do whatever is
necessary to complete your task.

And how do you know that?

You are Dax.

It is your way.

Oh, come on, Joran,
don't make me beg.

You won't regret this, Ezri.

I promise.

Joran, the forgotten host,

the outcast.

The murderer.

I'm sure you never thought
that little character trait

would prove useful.

Seems so strange
separating you from the others,

seeing you standing there.

But I'm not really
standing here, am I?

It's all in your mind.

At least now I know
you're listening to me.

I've been ignored
for far too long.

Curzon and Jadzia didn't
quite know what to do with me.

They buried your memories
as deep within them as possible.

That was a mistake.

I have so much to offer.

We'll see about that.

Now, let's get to work.

We have a killer to catch.

Where shall we begin?

I want to know how he thinks.

Then we'll start
with his choice of weapons.

We already know how
he modified the TR-116.

But you haven't held it
in your hands, have you?

You haven't looked through
its tracking display,

picked a target,

felt the power as
you lock its sensors

on your unsuspecting prey.

If you want to catch
a killer, Ezri,

you have to learn
to think like one.

Handsome weapon.

If you say so.

Come now.
Even you have to admire

the aesthetic qualities
inherent in its design.

It conveys a sense
of danger, of power.

Just looking from the
trigger to the muzzle,

conjures up images of death.

Take it down.

I meant "hold it
in your hands."

Why?

Because I want you to feel
what the killer felt.

This isn't going to work
if you fight me.

- I'm holding the gun.
- Stop placating me.

You wanted my help.
Now do as I say.

Put on the targeting display.

Now... hold the weapon as
if you're going to use it.

Feels good doesn't it?

I've held a rifle before.

You mean in combat.

It's not the same thing.

That kind of killing's
too random, too chaotic.

This is more controlled.

You can savor the moment.

Now, tell me, what do you see?

I'm moving through the
different levels of the Docking Ring.

He didn't kill anyone
in the Docking Ring.

Remember, you're trying
to put yourself in his mind.

Move to the Habitat Ring.

I'm there,

in one of the corridors.

Good.

Our killer is a hunter,
so start hunting.

I see a Bajoran deputy.

You don't want
to be in the corridors.

Look in the quarters.

No one's here.

A male Starfleet officer,
an engineer, about 35.

Good.

We have a victim.

You have him in your sights.

How do you feel?
Truth now.

Powerful.

In control.

Good. That's what
the killer's feeling.

I'm not angry or excited.

You're calm, relaxed...

Detached.

Now you're getting it.

You do your killing
from a distance.

You're cold, methodical.

Maybe you're a scientist
or a doctor.

Maybe...

but why kill like this?

Why not choose a victim
on the Promenade or in Quark's?

If you want to know the answer,

pull the trigger.

Find out.

Don't think about it.

Do it!

Do it!

No!

Ezri, the gun isn't loaded.

Then why did you tell me
to pull the trigger?

Do you want to know what
the killer feels or don't you?

I'm sorry, Ezri.

I didn't mean to
push you so far.

I'm not a murderer.

I'm not you.

Maybe not, but you
have my memories.

You remember what it was like --

the excitement, the passion,

the looks on their faces
as they realized

we were the last thing
they'd ever see.

That has nothing to do with me!

You're the killer!

Ezri?

I think you need a vacation.

You're talking to yourself.

I'm just thinking out loud.

I don't know what
you see in this Ferengi.

He's repulsive.

Can I get you a drink
or something to eat?

No. We don't have time.
We have work to do.

No, thanks.

I'm not hungry, really.

Well... when you are,
you know where to come.

How I'd love to slip
a knife between his ribs.

I have a better idea --
let's get back to work.

The sooner we find our killer,

the sooner you and I
can part company.

I thought we were
having fun together.

Think again.

I suppose I'll have to
make myself more endearing.

Now, I suggest we visit
the victims' quarters

to see what answers
we can find there.

What are we looking for?

Clues. What else?

But we don't even know if
the killer ever set foot in here.

Both victims were in their
quarters when they were killed.

Is that a coincidence
or a connection?

- I don't know.
- Think about it.

Look around...

and remember, whatever you
see is what the killer saw.

What do we know about
these classmates of Ilario's?

Odo checked
with Starfleet Command.

The one on the left was killed
in combat five weeks ago.

The one in the middle
is stationed on the USS Truman.

The Truman hasn't come anywhere
near Deep Space Nine in months.

Hmm... pity.

Keep looking.

Greta was quite
a pack rat, wasn't she?

She was here a long time.

This was home.

A monument to bad taste.

Just an observation.

Vanderweg's husband is a
micropaleontologist on Mora V.

She was married.

Ilario was single.

She was on Deep Space Nine
for three years.

He just got here.

She was a mature woman.

He was practically a kid.

Besides the uniform, they have
absolutely nothing in common...

which means they could've
just been chosen at random...

and if that's the case,
then we're wasting our time.

You're thinking
of giving up, aren't you?

- I didn't say that.
- You don't have to.

You have failure
written all over you.

I'm sorry to disappoint you.

It's not the lack of clues that's
keeping you from finding the killer --

it's you.

Me?

You're holding back, Ezri.

You refuse to see with his eyes,

feel with his hands,
think with his mind.

You want to turn me
into a killer,

make me like you.

You are me.

You want me to kill someone?

What do you say
I start with you?

That's the spirit.

Hold it!

Stop him!

They found him.

Stop that man!

A weapon! Over there!

Yes, yes, do it.

Do it!

That's enough!

You mind explaining this?

I'm told that if Odo
hadn't stopped you,

you'd have stabbed
Ensign Bertram.

I was trying to stop him
from getting away.

All right. He hit me,
I reacted...

I guess I overreacted.

I'd say so.

He could be a little more
appreciative, don't you think?

I'm sorry things got out of hand,

but Bertram killed two people.

Bertram didn't kill anyone.

Then why was a security
team chasing him?

Because a month ago,

he accessed the replicator
patterns on TR-116

without authorization.

Sounds guilty to me.

Why would he replicate a rifle

unless he was going to use it?

Because he collects weapons --
Federation, Klingon, Cardassian.

What a coincidence.

That doesn't
rule him out as a suspect.

True, but the fact
that he was on Bajor

when the first
murder occurred does.

You've been under
a lot of stress lately, so...

Ben, please don't give up on me.

I can find this murderer.

I know I can.

I just need more time.

I don't know what you
and Jadzia and Curzon

all see in that man.

He's so insufferable,
so Starfleet.

I'm surprised the killer
hasn't targeted him.

I'm joking, of course,

but he did come perilously close

to derailing our investigation.

And you have to take
some of the blame for that.

What did I do?

It's what you didn't do, really.

You should have
told him about me.

You're kidding.

One word about you and he'd
have pulled me off the case.

Well, then, I guess I'll have
to remain your little secret

and be glad that you're
still in his good graces.

Not that it matters, really.

We would have continued
on without Sisko's blessing.

Right?

What are you doing?

What does it look like?

Do you really think you
can get rid of me this easily?

Don't you realize
we've made Dax whole again?

Don't back away now.

You won't catch
the killer without me.

Odo to Lieutenant Dax.

Report to
the Habitat Ring, on H-43.

I'm on my way.

Petty officer
Zim Brott; Bolian.

Five years of service
on Deep Space Nine.

I knew him.

Or, at least, Jadzia did.

He has a wife and
co-husband on Bolarus.

Well, so much for the theory
that our killer only targets humans.

Captain...

The bullet pierced his heart?

At close range.

Why am I not surprised?

What if we don't catch him?

Will he keep shooting
Starfleet officers

till there are none
left on the station?

How could anyone be so happy
with such unattractive children?

What did you say?

This photo.

That's it.

It's the pictures.

He's laughing.

She's laughing.

That's what the victims
have in common --

pictures of laughing faces.

A killer who hates laughter

who hates emotion.

A Vulcan.

All Vulcans distrust emotions,

but they don't go around
killing people for smiling.

This one does.

Something happened to him.

Something so emotionally painful,

it's making him lose control.

When he looks through
the targeting sensor

and sees those pictures,
the laughter seems to mock him.

You're thinking like he thinks.

Good, Ezri.

Computer, how many Vulcan
Starfleet officers are on the station?

There are 48 Vulcans
serving on Deep Space Nine.

Now all we have to do
is eliminate 47 of them.

I should tell Odo.

Not until we have proof.

Then let's get some.

We still have 28 suspects --

Vulcans who have suffered
a personal loss of some kind.

We've narrowed the field.

Not by enough.

There's one thing
I don't understand --

if he hates laughter

then why doesn't he
seek out his victims

in Quark's or the holosuite?

Maybe it's not
just the laughter.

You're right.

Maybe it has
something to do with...

the way the photograph
freezes the emotion

making it seem like the laughter

is going to last forever.

Level 12, Central Core.

So, what do we do now?

We go back over
our list of suspects,

see if we can't narrow it down.

Then, proof or no proof,
we give the list to Odo.

Habitat Ring, Level K-55.

What are you doing?

Are you addressing me?

Sorry.

Never mind.

It's him, Ezri.

I know it is.

We've found our killer.

I'm telling you,
he's the one we're looking for.

Look in his eyes.

By the way, I'm Counselor Dax.

I know.

What are you doing?

He's getting away.

We need proof --
something I can take to Odo.

And while you're
looking for that proof,

what do you think
the Vulcan will be doing?

Let me tell you.

He's going to pick
another victim.

Science Officer Chu'lak, age 97

assigned to Deep Space Nine
three months ago.

Before that, he served
aboard the USS Grissom.

Why was he transferred?

The Grissom was destroyed
by the Jem'Hadar

in the battle of Ricktor Prime.

He was one of only
six crewmen to survive.

Six survivors
out of a crew of 1,250.

He served on that
ship for ten years.

Those people who were killed
were his colleagues -- his friends.

That's a painful loss,
even for a Vulcan.

That doesn't make him a killer.

But your instincts
tell you that he is.

Listen to your instincts.

Listen to me.

It's him.

Computer, locate
Science Officer Chu'lak.

Lieutenant
Chu'lak is in his quarters.

Seeking out his next victim.

Computer, where are
Chu'lak's quarters?

Habitat Ring, Level D-12.

My thought, exactly.

What do you see?

He's studying something
on his computer console.

Studying what?

- What is it?
- Me.

My service record.

He knows we suspect him.

He's going into the next room.

What's he doing?

He's coming back.

- He's carrying something.
- It's a rifle, isn't it?

Isn't it?

Yes.

Shoot him.

Don't think about it.

Just do it.

Kill him.

Oh.

Congratulations.

I'm proud of you.

Go ahead.
Finish what you started.

Tell me, why did you do it?

Because logic demanded it.

What are you waiting for?

He deserves to die.

You know that.

Follow your instincts.

Dax to Infirmary.
I need an emergency medical team

Habitat Ring, D-12.

On our way.

Try not to look so disappointed.

I can't tell you how much
I've enjoyed our time together.

You won't be able to forget me

or bury me as deeply as
Curzon and Jadzia did.

I know.

I'm part of you now.

As much as Audrid,
Torias -- any of them.

I'll have to be careful.

Ezri.