Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Last time on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine...

More Jem'Hadar ships

come through the wormhole every week.

It must stop.

It's going to stop.

How do we keep them out?

We're going to mine the entrance to the wormhole.

Prevent the Dominion from bringing

any more reinforcements to Cardassia.

Either you remove the mines,

or we will take this station

from you...

and remove them ourselves.

Mr. Worf, all weapons fire at will.

I've been waiting for this moment for five years.

We've lost main power to the shields.

What are your orders, Captain?

We've done all we can here.

Notify all remaining Starfleet personnel.

We're evacuating the station.

I heard you're not coming with us --

that you've been assigned to Martok's ship.

It may be some time before we see each other again.

Worf, we may never see each other again.

Dukat wanted the station back.

He can have it.

And now, the continuation.

Cadet?

Long-range scanners show no sign of Jem'Hadar ships.

Looks like they've broken off the pursuit.

I guess they got tired of looking at our backs.

Three months of bloody slaughter, and what have we got to show for it?

Not a damned thing.

Engage, retreat, engage, retreat.

Just once, I would've liked to have gotten a look at their backs.

Chief, that's enough.

Sorry, sir.

Nothing a little sleep won't cure.

We could all use some sleep.

What has it been -- 78 hours?

Shouldn't we have heard something from the Seventh Fleet by now?

I wouldn't worry just yet.

The Tyra system is far enough away

that it'll be a day or two before we get any message.

You think they could stop the Dominion?

Damn right they can.

Somebody has to.

Ah, there you are.

I was beginning to give up hope, Doctor.

I would think that all those lunches we've shared

would have entitled me to preferential treatment.

Look, I have 12 wounded officers and crewman out there,

all of whom are in a lot worse shape than you, Garak.

Well, if you're trying to cheer me up,

it's working.

I feel better already.

What happened?

I was studying some star charts for Captain Sisko

during the last assault, when I had a sudden

and rather violent encounter with a bulkhead.

You'll live.

I wish I shared your confidence.

I'm sure my head will heal,

but the way this war is going,

I wouldn't bet on any of us living to a ripe old age.

I admit the odds are not good, but they could be worse.

Ah, let me guess.

You've used your genetically enhanced brain

to calculate our chances for survival.

It really wasn't that difficult.

I simply started with a binomial--

I'm really not interested, Doctor.

Ever since it's become public knowledge

that you're genetically engineered,

you've used every opportunity to show off.

I have nothing to hide anymore.

I might as well use what I have.

Well... what are our chances?

Over 50 percent?

32.7.

I'm sorry I asked.

You're certain about that figure?

Do you want me to take you through the entire set of calculations?

Not really.

"Genetically engineered," indeed.

Excuse me?

Well, look at you.

You act as if you haven't a care in the world.

It's exactly that kind of smug, superior attitude

that makes people like you so... unpopular.

Are you trying to insult me?

"A 32.7 percent chance of survival" --

I call that insulting.

Don't take it so personally, Garak.

It's strictly a matter of mathematics.

No. It's strictly a matter of our lives.

You're not genetically engineered.

You're a Vulcan.

If I'm a Vulcan

then how do you explain my boyish smile?

Not so boyish anymore, Doctor.

So where do you think Starfleet will be sending us next?

I don't know, but if I have anything to say about the matter,

we'll be going right back to the front lines.

Well said, Captain,

and my ship will be at your side.

Worf!

Tell her.

Tell me what?

It can wait.

No! It cannot.

Raktajino.

It's been weighing heavily on his mind.

What is it, Worf? What's wrong?

It is about our wedding.

You're getting cold feet?

You have scheduled the ritual sacrifice of the targ

to occur after the wedding feast has been served.

We haven't seen each other

for five weeks and that's the first thing you say to me?

We agreed it would be a traditional ceremony.

Okay. Have it your way.

First, we'll shed blood, and then we'll feast.

As it should be.

He has been unable

to talk of anything else for days.

He's such a worrier.

Take it from me, old man --

a small wedding is the way to go.

Well, you get married the way you want,

and I'll get married the way I want.

I'll see you later, Captain.

Try not to break any bones.

Now that that's settled,

I'm going to take care of this.

Klingons make great warriors, but...

terrible doctors.

Captain...

Just the man I wanted to see.

We've been ordered to report to Starbase 375 for reassignment.

Something else, Doctor?

I have news of the Seventh Fleet.

Go on.

Only 14 ships made it back to our lines.

Fourteen...

out of 112.

We can't keep taking these kinds of losses, sir,

not if we expect to win this.

Thank you, Doctor.

That will be all.

I'll take a look at that arm now.

Permanent Documentation File, Dukat, S.G.

Each day brings reports of new victories.

The war continues to go well.

The enemy is retreating. on almost all fronts.

It's only a matter of time before the Federation collapses

and Earth becomes another conquered planet

under Dominion rule.

All in all, it's a good time for Cardassia.

And the Dominion.

My dear Major Kira, you have no idea

how it pleases me to hear you say that.

Dukat, the Major has just given me the most wonderful news.

Bajorans are returning to the station.

I'm well aware of it.

Then I'm sure you share my delight

in knowing that life here is returning to normal.

The shops are reopening.

The Promenade is abuzz with activity once again.

The Habitat Ring echoes

with the laughter of happy children.

I've doubled security patrols throughout the station.

Are such precautions really necessary?

I've found that one can't be too careful

when dealing with the Bajorans.

What's the matter, Dukat?

Afraid we'll take the station away from you again?

You're welcome to try.

Come now, come now.

There's no need for this petty bickering.

- We're all friends here. - Are we?

Of course we are,

and if you have any suggestions, Major,

feel free to bring them to me at any time.

Fine.

We'd like the station's Bajoran security force reinstated.

I suppose you want us to give them back their weapons as well.

That's right.

The station no longer requires

a Bajoran security force.

Our troops can handle any problems that might arise.

The Federation and Bajor always shared

equal responsibility for station security.

I thought you said that we would have

the same arrangement with the Dominion.

After all,

we are all friends here...

aren't we?

Perhaps you should reconsider your decision.

The order stands.