A dark silhouette appears on the screen. Some kind of holoprojector is being used to distort his face. The hiss of a cardamine breather unit is audible. The man leans forward and speaks with a purposefully deepened and distorted voice.
Good day Mr. Bashir.
I am callsign Scene One of Alcor Wing. You have something we want. We have something you want.
Uploading...
Your brother Malcolm, and your daughter Jennifer are unharmed. For now.
You will covertly copy all of your research pertaining to the long-term effects of cardamine on humans to a secure data disk. Once that is complete, we will arrange a place to make the exchange - the files for your family. You are also tell no-one about our arrangement.
If you do not comply, we will mail your family back to you - piece by piece.
If you contact anyone else for help, the first pieces we mail to you will be their heads.
>>>Decryption initiated... >>>Source: Sigma 17 >>>Flags: Bashir, Family, Data, reproductive, Alcor.
*A voice can be heard distantly before a face fills the screen*
'Fecking gassers! Barbarians...'
*Clears throat*
'Mr...scene one.. Please don't hurt my family: I'll get you as much of what you need as I can, You have to give me time! Please! The sheer volume of data makes what you ask all the more difficult.
I will keep things discreet and do my best not to arouse suspicion but, what you are asking is not ~easy~. Right now I have only my own personal journals, some unfinished papers, and the contents of my brain to work with.
I could work a lot more efficiently with the necessary data from the ship my daughter was in: protein procedure and system mapping, real-time exploratory genetic examinations... but without that I can only hope that the terabytes I can get for you are satisfactory...
I am even now getting all the related information that I can. God willing: you will hear from me again shortly: in the meantime, please, let my daughter go?' >>>Data Ends...Interrupt.