Darting through and around corridors, the escaped Female Founder was too exhausted to successfully change shape. But still she ran, hoping against hope that Odo would offer her sanctuary, should she reach the great link.

The prison in which she had been kept seemed endless, and she had no friends there, certainly not among the Maquis. But one human of oddly civilized manners and well above average intelligence had never given her trouble. So it was to his cell she came.

"Sir---I know you have no love of this hideously repressive government. Will you help to spirit me out?"

Putting down a treasured bound volume of Chaucer, the very smart man nodded at his acquaintance.

"Of course, my dear. You may hide in this receptacle. They're quite loathe to search my cell, you know."

She oozed in.

"I fail to see why, Doctor. You are the only solid I've ever felt any kind of empathy for or kinship with."

He smiled as she entered the receptacle.

"My dear--that's because we have such a similar worldview. Now--keep warm, while I shoo your pursuers."

She did indeed feel warm. The odd metal bowl he had placed her in, and then sealed, was warm--and growing warmer with every moment.

The guards came.

"Doc--have you seen the female shapeshifter?"

"No, my boy--I have not. For right now, my only concern is the soup I have cooking in my crock-pot."

The guards walked off.

"Should we search his cell?"

"No--way.  I don't care if the Changeling escapes, and takes the place of The UFP CE himself! There is nothing that could make me search HIS cell."

After a half an hour, the prisoner took his chance and opened the pot. The liquid was no longer alive.

"I should add some carrots and pepper, my dear--but some meals call for the raw touch. Here's to---Changeling Consomme'!"

And so it was that Doctor Hannibal Lecter sat down and ate hearty, yet still regretting his lack of carrots.

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HELL

She fell, and fell, and fell. It seemed odd to her that human beliefs of an afterlife should affect her. But perhaps it was all simply another dimension. If so, it could be escaped. On the surface, it just seemed to be another prison.

In one cell, a military official named Colonel Flagg was being accused of something called Communism.

In another, a woman named Harriet Olsen was listening to a duplicate of herself babble on, while her own mouth was sewn firmly shut.

In a third, a creature called Anti-Monitor writhed in agony, having been changed into a desktop globe, representing the planet Earth.

But neither these, nor the beings called Smith, Kravitz or Newman were any concern of hers. No, her fate lay ahead. And it lay with a familiar guide.

"Dukat?"

"Yes, Blessed Founder. Is this where gods end up when they die? Kind of stinks, doesn't it?"

She looked down, and then all over him.

"Who made those odd clothes you're wearing?"

Gul Dukat smiled.

"A Dog Named Magic. But lets not go there, shall we? Lets have a look around."

With nothing better to do, she followed her one-time ally. He pointed about.

"That's my place, over there. I've actually come to enjoy it, almost. Isn't this Gul Uniform simply to die for--so to speak? Old Navy, Old Navy."

They moved along.

"Here's where we keep old reliable former Kai Winn. Let's take a listen."

Winn was working two ancient, corded comm devices simultaneously.

"Mr. Starr---Mr. Starr--I realize you have the right to see those E-Mails---Mr. President--yes, sir, I do know that his prosecutors are all former RNC Chairmen---Ok, Mr. Starr--we'll try and have the White House release the files--and your wife--Mr. President---Ok, I concede that the bazookas aimed at Limo One were a questionable legal tactic..."

Dukat held on to that same stupid grin.

"She's good people, ya know?"

On they went, to the area inhabited by former Section 31 Agent Sloan.

"Now, good old Sloan has a slight perception problem."

The agent looked around furtively.

"Very good, Julian. But eventually, this holosuite has to power down, and then we'll talk."

He looked around again, a bit anxious.

"I'm---waaaaitiing."

Dukat pshawed him.

"Boy, don't we all go through that stage? Now, here's glory-hound Maquis leader Eddington."

Eddington, wearing the clothes of Jean Valjean, made for a stairwell, that seemed like it might take him out of Hell.

"Now's my chance--au revoir, Bastille!"

But at the top of the stairwell was another Eddington, dressed as Inspector Javert.

"Non, Mon Frere--our chase never ends!"

Again, Dukat was taking it all in stride.

"Isn't irony grand? Those humans just have it down pat!"

The Female Founder was growing tired.

"Dukat--is there someplace I may sit?"

He nodded.

"But of course. Here's your place, in any event. Just wait, and they'll start your sentence."

Dukat laughed wildly, until a large purple dinosaur carried him back to his fate. The Founder was alone.

After many weeks, a human came into her cell. He seemed oddly familiar.

"You--I have studied the history of The Federation--you are a famous Captain, like Sisko, correct?"

The man nodded.

"Captain James T. Kirk, at your service."

She shrugged.

"If I am being punished by the standards of Solids, then why is a great human hero being punished with me?"

Kirk shook his head.

"Oh, no. I'M not the one being punished."

She saw Kirk ascend a small podium, where a microphone awaited.

"Now, a small medley...."

He began....to sing.

"Oh, I'm A Rocket Man...Searchin for prices half off on Priceline.Com...Big Girls Don't Cry....when they can get half off on Priceline.Com....I Like You Just The Way You Are...Getting Prices on PriceLine.Com...Pitchforks and Brimstone...Half Off On Priceline.Com...."

With each spoken lyric, The Founder's torment increased.

"Please...stop...I can bear no more!"

"We'll have Fun..Fun..Fun..At Priceline.com...Money Can't Buy Me Love...Except At Priceline.Com...."

Kirk looked the Founder over.

"What's your problem?"

She was crying.

"I thought surely I'd get off with a small punishment!"

Kirk grinned.

"Oh, my--No. You see---This Is Going To Be Big!!"

As the Founder began to lose her grip entirely, it continued......

"In France...At Waterloo...Napoleon did Surrender....Because he paid too much for his supplies...he should've gone to Priceline.com...where you always win..."

And one more voice was added to the chorus of the eternally damned.

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Dedicated to this series number 1 fan, Marlissa. Sorry to say, I think this is the last one, at least for DS9. Its been fun!