Listen up.
To Lieutenant Hector llario,
proof that the Academy produces the finest pilots in the galaxy.
- Hear, hear. - I haven't finished yet.
A toast should be short and to the point.
- I wouldn't mind hearing more. - Modesty above all.
This is no time to be modest. This man, this youth, this mere pup...
- I'm 22. - I was speaking metaphorically.
This inspired cherub masterfully piloted the Defiant
into battle against six Jem'Hadar ships.
When the smoke cleared, only one ship remained intact,
and that, ladies and gentlemen, was the U.S.S. Defiant.
- The kid's a born helmsman. - And so say all of us.
Hear, hear!
- Thanks. I'm just glad to be here. - It's the best posting in the galaxy.
If there's anything you want, just ask.
- There is one thing. - Name it.
Next time you two go to the holosuite, I'd like to come along.
- Sorry. - Can't be done. It's impossible.
Don't take it personally. They're very serious about their leisure activities.
- It's a good stress release. - I recommend it.
Just not with us.
A holosuite visit is a sort of a personal experience.
He's particular about who sees him in his coonskin cap.
- You understand. - I suppose.
- Gentlemen, your holosuite is ready. - Terrific.
- If there's anything else you need... - Just let us know.
Have you ever gone with them?
Me? Never.
I know when I'm not wanted.
To the class of '72.
- Another round? - No.
- Time to go? - It was time to go about an hour ago.
OK.
- OK. We'll get you home. - His quarters are on my way.
He's not the first drunken ensign I've seen home.
Remind me to tell you about a bar on Bolarus and a young Mr Sisko.
This way.
I never had real Saurian brandy before. It's Captain Sisko's favourite.
It sneaks up on you, doesn't it?
Speaking of sneaking up on you. Here we are. Home sweet home.
- You OK? Do you want a "raktajino?" - I'm fine.
I wish they could've been there. They would have loved it.
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, llario. - Good night, Lieutenant.
The time is 0600 hours.
The time is 0600 hours and ten seconds.
Yeah, yeah. I'm up.
Fanalian tea. Hot.
- What happened? - Lieutenant llario has been killed.
Killed? How?
It appears someone shot him.
He was killed by some kind of chemically propelled projectile weapon.
Dr Bashir recovered a tritanium bullet from llario's chest.
He was shot through the heart.
- That's rare. - Nobody uses projectile weapons.
- You said this is tritanium? - That's correct.
Chief, did you ever hear of a TR-116 rifle?
It was a prototype, made for use in energy dampening fields
or radiogenic environments.
Anywhere where a normal phaser would be useless.
I think the TR-116 fired a chemically propelled tritanium bullet.
A prototype? Were they ever mass-produced?
No. Starfleet abandoned them in favour of regenerative phasers.
The killer could have gotten hold of the rifle's replication patterns.
Only Starfleet officers could do that.
Disturbing thought, isn't it?
Starfleet officers do not murder other officers.
- Not usually. - Hold on.
That's odd. The bullet only travelled eight or nine centimetres.
He 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
these weapons leave residual combustion products on the victims.
- How do you know? - I read 20th-century crime novels:
Raymond Chandler, Mike Hammer, that sort of thing.
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.
What do we know about llario?
Not much. He's only been here ten days.
He was intelligent, dedicated, eager to please. Everyone liked him.
Not everyone.
I want to know everything there is to know about him - friends, enemies.
I also want increased security on the station.
- And... - You want whoever did this caught.
I understand, Captain.
llario told me 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. - Are you sure?
Are you?
Don't look at me. We never discussed his family.
Mostly he talked about the Academy. And the two of you.
- Us? - He really admired both of you.
- We should've let him come with us. - You're right.
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.
- Will Odo catch whoever did this? - If anyone can.
We really should've let him come to the holosuite with us.
Ezri.
- Shouldn't you be in bed? - I was about to ask you that.
- I just couldn't sleep. - Me neither.
You mustn't blame yourself for llario'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 is incomprehensible.
Not to me.
- Meaning what? - Meaning that I know 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 a host to Dax, just like me.
- He was nothing like you. - I try not to think about it.
Jadzia 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.
Just the thought of someone like him being here.
You really should get some rest.
You're right.
Even if it does mean lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
- Good night, Julian. - Good night.
Save your complaints for the magistrate.
- Is he the one we've been looking for? - llario's killer.
Why? Why did you do it?
You tell me, counsellor.
- But you're dead. - Don't tell me. Tell him.
I'm sorry. There's nothing worse than a corpse with a mind of its own.
What?
Dax to security.
Odo?
Kira?
Anyone there?
Security, please answer me.
- Joran. - You recognise me. How nice.
- What do you want? - Respect. Understanding. Love.
I wish you'd stop being afraid of me. We're not 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 llario? Then perform the Rite of Emergence.
Just ask for my help and then we can begin.
- I don't want your help. - Maybe not, but you need it.
You murdered three people. 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.
Greta Vanderweg. Science officer.
Human, age 37. 12 years of service, the last three here on DS9.
Tritanium bullet fired at close range. No powder burns.
Did the victims know each other?
It's doubtful. llario was only here ten days, seven of them on the Defiant.
But why llario? And why Vanderweg?
Did someone have a grudge against either of them?
Or is someone killing at random?
No one in Starfleet could do this.
There are over 900 Starfleet officers posted on the station.
We have to narrow the field of suspects.
How well did you do in forensic psychology at the Academy?
It wasn't my favourite subject.
- 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.
Why use a rifle to shoot someone from close range?
They may have originally intended to kill from a distance
so they replicated a long-range weapon.
Or they had some special connection to this rifle.
- A fetish or a psychological obsession. - I suppose so.
Did you read the Crockett biography I gave you?
- No. But I'll get to it. - There was this fascinating section
about the mythology about him and his rifle.
They thought a man had a relationship with a weapon.
Some frontiersmen even gave their rifles female names,
changing the relationship to something resembling man and woman.
- Maybe I'll call my tricorder Sally. - There's some great tales in that book.
In one story, Crockett was supposed to have put a target against a tree
and arranged a series of tin frying pans nearby.
He'd shoot a bullet at a pan, which would ricochet to another,
then to another and another.
That's it. Displaced targeting. That's how he did it.
- Who? - The killer.
He set up an alternate bullet trajectory,
one that didn't require a direct line of sight.
- Julian, you're a genius. - Thank Davy Crockett.
What do you think?
- Nice melon. - But what does it have to do with us?
All I know is that Chief O'Brien wanted me to bring you here.
- 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.
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.
- Through the wall? - I don't see any bullet holes.
I attached a micro-transporter to this TR-116.
The bullet was beamed into the room, a few centimetres from the melon.
Where it continued its trajectory.
That would explain the lack of powder burns on the victims.
By using an exographic targeting sensor,
he could scan through bulkheads.
So he could've been firing from anywhere on the station.
Can you trace the bullet's signatures back to where the killer was?
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 to be wandering the Promenade alone.
You were worried about me?
There is a killer on the station. You must not endanger yourself.
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?
- Slowly. - If I can assist you in any way...
I appreciate it but you can't really. Nobody can.
Actually, 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 you must to complete your task.
And how do you know that?
You are Dax.
It is your way.
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 trait would prove useful.
It seems strange, separating you from the others, seeing you standing there.
I'm not really. It's all in your mind.
At least now I know you're listening. I've been ignored for far too long.
Curzon and Jadzia didn't know what to do with me.
They buried your memories as deep 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 should we begin? - I want to know how he thinks.
We'll start with his choice of weapons.
We 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.
Even you have to admire the aesthetic qualities in its design.
It conveys a sense of danger, of power.
Just looking at it conjures up images of death. Take it down.
Hold it in your hands. I want you to feel what the killer felt.
This isn't going to work if you fight me.
- I'm holding it. - 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. - In combat?
That kind of killing is too random.
This is controlled. You can savour the moment.
Now tell me, what do you see?
I'm moving through the Docking Ring.
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. He's 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?
If you want to know, pull the trigger and 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. I didn't mean to push you.
I'm not a murderer. I'm not you.
Maybe not, but you have my memories of the excitement, the passion,
the looks on their faces as they realised we were the last thing they'd ever see.
It has nothing to do with me. You were 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 him. - Can I get you something?
- We don't have time. - 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 we can part company.
- I thought we were having fun. - Think again.
I'll have to be more endearing.
I suggest we visit the victims' quarters to see what answers we can find there.
- What are we looking for? - Clues, what else?
We don't know if the killer came in here.
Both victims were killed in their quarters. Coincidence?
- I don't know. - Think about it. Look around.
And remember, whatever you see is what the killer saw.
What do we know about llario's classmates?
Odo checked with Starfleet Command.
The one on the left was killed in combat five weeks ago.
The one in the middle is on the U.S.S. Truman.
The Truman hasn't come anywhere near here in months.
Pity. Keep looking.
Greta was quite a packrat, 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. llario was single.
She was on DS9 for three years. He just got here.
She was a mature woman. He was practically a kid.
Besides the uniform, they had nothing in common.
So they could've been chosen at random.
And if that's the case, then we're wasting our time.
- Are you're thinking of giving up? - I didn't say that.
- You have failure written all over you. - Sorry to disappoint you.
You're keeping yourself from finding the killer.
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?
- I'll start with you. - That's the spirit.
Hold it! Stop him!
- They've found him! - Stop that man!
A weapon. Over there.
Yes. Yes, do it. Do it!
That's enough!
You mind explaining this?
If Odo hadn't stopped you, you'd have stabbed Ensign Bertram.
I was trying to stop him from getting away.
He hit me, I reacted.
I guess I overreacted.
- I'd say so. - He could be a little more appreciative.
I'm sorry things got out of hand, but Bertram killed two people.
- No, he didn't. - Why was security chasing him?
Because a month ago he accessed the replicator patterns on TR-116.
Sounds guilty to me.
Why would he replicate it other than to use it?
Because he collects weapons.
- What a coincidence. - That doesn't rule him out.
True. But he was on Bajor when the first murder occurred.
You've been under a lot of stress lately.
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 all see in that man.
He's so insufferable, so Starfleet.
I'm surprised the killer hasn't targeted him.
I'm joking. But he did come close to derailing our investigation.
You have to take some of the blame.
- What did I do? - You should have told him about me.
You're kidding. He'd have pulled me off the case.
Then I'll remain your secret and be glad you're in his good graces.
Although we would have continued without Sisko's blessing.
- What are you doing? - What does it look like?
Do you think you can get rid of me this easily?
Don't you realise 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 9.
I knew him. Or at least Jadzia did.
He has a wife and co-husband on Bolarus.
So much for the theory that our killer targets humans.
- Captain. - The bullet pierced his heart?
- Close range. - Why am I not surprised?
If we don't catch him will he keep shooting officers till there are none left?
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. Laughing faces.
A killer who hates laughter. Who hates emotion.
A Vulcan.
Vulcans 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 sees these pictures, the laughter seems to mock him.
You're thinking like he thinks. Good.
Computer. How many Vulcan officers are on the station?
There are 48 Vulcans serving on Deep Space 9.
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 Vulcans who have suffered a personal loss.
- We've narrowed the field. - Not by enough.
There's one thing I don't understand.
If he hates laughter, why doesn't he seek out his victims in Quark's?
Maybe it's not just the laughter.
You're right. Maybe it's 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 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 Counsellor Dax.
I know.
What are you doing? He's getting away.
We need proof to take to Odo.
And what do you think the Vulcan will be doing?
He's going to pick another victim.
Science officer Chu'lak. Age, 97.
Assigned to DS9 three months ago. Before that, the Grissom.
Why was he transferred?
The Grissom was destroyed by the Jem'Hadar.
- He was one of only six to survive. - Six survivors out of a crew of 1,250.
He served on that ship for ten years.
Those people were his friends.
- That's a painful loss. - That doesn't make him a killer.
But you know 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.
Where are Chu'lak's quarters?
Habitat Ring, level D-12.
My thought exactly.
What do you see?
- He's studying something. - 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 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!
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 or Jadzia did.
- I know. - I'm a part of you now.
As much as Audrid, Torias, any of them.
I'll have to be careful.
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