Still trying to process the sudden shift in being, the TARDIS almost didn't hear Dukat's command. Even if she had, she was still so overwhelmed with being flesh that she'd have ignored it. It took all she had to remember how to move, to feel, to breathe; more than once she found herself gasping for her oversight.

But eventually, just as with everything else, the familiarity of the voice began winnowing its way to the forefront of her thoughts. Memories sharpened, each moment replaying with a clarity she didn't realise she'd been lacking and the ship drew a faint, shuddering breath. Dukat. Her Cardassian. But this was most certainly not Atia's island, nor was it any ship she'd ever seen before. She was flesh and the Legate was here, but where was here?

And would he even believe her when she answered him?

"TARDIS," she rasped, standing as straight as she could, one hand still pressed to the wall for balance. "You know me, Legate Dukat."