The Path of Most Resistance Part I

[dark_sinestra]

Author Notes: The story is an in-between story, taking place after Let He Who is Without Sin... and before Things Past. It's the beginning of some of the canon departures I've mentioned, minor so far, that will build over time throughout the rest of the series. Some of the Jem'Hadar dialogue comes from In Purgatory's Shadow. Chronology between Julian's part of the story and Garak's isn't exact. I wrote it for flow, not precision of the lining up of events while they're apart.

Summary: Julian does his best to adjust to the harsh conditions of Internment camp 371 and convince his bunk mates that he's more useful alive than dead while Garak tries to adjust to a return to life outside of confinement and fulfill the obligation he made to attend the Bajoran conference on the occupation.

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: July 2010

Category: Slight slash.

Rating: PG-13 for violence and adult themes.

Disclaimer: Paramount has always done a decent job of protecting their creative property, to the point I'm not tempted to try to pretend what's theirs is mine.

Word Count: 16,703

 

 

Garak

Security Office

 

Garak waited patiently for Odo to finish the outtake form, everything in his possession from the holding cell residing in a small satchel with a shoulder strap. “I just need your thumb print here,” Odo said, offering him a PADD across the desk.

 

Garak quickly scanned the text before pressing his thumb to the screen. “That's it, then?” he asked pleasantly.

 

“Not quite,” Odo said. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with me to the Celestial Café.”

 

“What for?” he asked, arching an eye ridge.

 

“A surprise party,” the constable answered in his matter-of-fact way.

 

“I hate surprises,” Garak said.

 

“Now it's not a surprise,” Odo retorted, “so you have no excuse not to enjoy yourself.”

 

“Aroya put you up to this?” he asked.

 

Odo nodded. “Which is why you're going, and you're going to act completely surprised. Ziyal and Leeta also put a lot of time and effort into this. You can't disappoint the girls.”

 

“The girls?” he asked, feeling his irritation melting away into amusement. He had a feeling there was quite a bit he had missed during his incarceration.

 

Odo colored faintly. “Yes,” he said, sounding just a tad defensive. “They're waiting for us. It's not polite to keep them in suspense.”

 

“By all means,” Garak said, gesturing expansively. “Lead the way.”

 

He inhaled deeply as he stepped from the security office. It was different from all of the other times he stepped out for his trips to the infirmary. He had no reason to return unless he wished to, and he knew there was precious little that would ever induce him to do that again voluntarily. He climbed the steps to the second level of the Promenade in Odo's wake and noticed that the front of the café was dark. “I'm not supposed to find this odd?” he asked Odo.

 

“Hush!” the constable warned him. “Come on.” He paused and pushed Garak in ahead of him.

 

There was only a moment of darkness before the lights went up and several jubilant voices shouted, “Surprise!” He did his best to look taken aback, and not all of it was an act. In addition to those he expected to see were several of his customers, Jake Sisko, and Major Kira.

 

Ziyal rushed forward to embrace him, followed closely by Leeta, Aroya, and Rom. He found himself in a confused jumble of limbs and a press of bodies that had it lasted much longer than it did might have caused him some problems. He gave them his best smile. “Am I in the wrong place?” he asked. “There seems to be a party going on.”

 

“It's for you, Mister Garak!” a high voice piped from somewhere behind his friends.

 

Leeta and Ziyal stepped to the side, Leeta taking his bag from him and setting it aside, so that he could see the girl to whom the voice belonged, Konil's daughter, Sharee. “Look at you,” he said, beckoning her closer. “How you've grown!” They grew so quickly at that age. He looked from her to her mother, who offered him a warm smile.

 

“Her birthday is coming up next month. She'll need a new dress. Will you be re-opening the shop?” she asked.

 

“I will,” he said, nodding.

 

“I'm so glad!” the girl said, not nearly as little as the day he met her years before. She gave him a hug and retreated back to her family as others drew closer to congratulate him or ask him questions. He treated with all of them graciously, touched that they'd go to the trouble to make such a gesture but really just wanting the chance to get back to his quarters and reacquaint himself with them.

 

“I suppose I won't be seeing as much of you now,” Julian said, his smile slightly wry.

 

“I'll always have room in my schedule for our lunches, Doctor,” he replied, more than a little pleased that he could now refuse the hypospray injections. It wasn't likely he'd still need them once his body adjusted to the fact he was no longer a captive.

 

Aroya put a glass in his hand then took up a tray and began circulating through the room. He did much the same, making certain to divide his time fairly. It may have been a long time since he found himself in such a situation. It didn't mean he had forgotten how to be a good, charming guest. Although everyone with whom he spoke was given the impression that each had his undivided attention, in truth he was watching interactions throughout the restaurant, the way Aroya brushed Odo's fingers when she gave him a glass, the way he smiled, Jake's laughter at something Ziyal said, Leeta's gaze following Rom, Kira's somewhat stiff posture and not quite convincing smiles. He made his way over to her and inclined his head. “Let me guess,” he said, leaning in close enough that the two of them wouldn't be overheard. “Ziyal persuaded you to come.”

 

She looked as though she intended to deny this, then thought better of it. “Yes,” she said.

 

“Come then,” he said, lightly taking her elbow and guiding her toward one of the set tables. “Let's get the dinner started so that you may eat and make your graceful exit. Everyone else will assume it's because of the baby, and I'll think no less of you for your unfortunate tendency toward honesty.”

 

She tried not to smile and almost succeeded. “Thank you, Garak,” she said. She looked relieved when he pulled out a chair for her and pushed it gently under her as she took her seat. The other guests took the cue and found seats of their own. Ziyal sat to his right, across from Kira, and beamed at both of them.

 

“Now, I can't take all the credit for the food tonight,” Aroya said. “Leeta shouldered a good bit of the prep work, and you can thank her entirely for the sauce.”

 

“You mean blame,” Leeta piped up with a giggle.

 

“Nonsense!” Aroya said, grinning. She and Mayna retreated into the kitchen and brought out trays heaped with food.

 

After everyone was served, somebody Garak didn't quite see shouted out, “Speech! Speech!” Others took up the chant until Garak held up his hand and reluctantly stood.

 

As he looked out over the smiling faces, the words came to him of their own accord. “My father used to say that you can judge a good meal by lack of conversation. I've had Aroya's cooking. Leeta's, too. I hope no one expects another word out of me until the meal is over, so if anyone needs to leave early, I'll thank you for coming now.” He retook his seat to polite, appreciative laughter.

 

Just as he expected it would be, the food was delicious. There wasn't much in the way of conversation when people dug in. He met Leeta's gaze and gave her a pleased, closed lipped smile and incline of his head. Her cooking had come a long way in a relatively short amount of time. Eventually happy chatter grew in volume. He'd never say it to them, but after the quiet of his cell, he found it all a little overwhelming.

 

Kira shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I think I'm going to have to head out,” she said, wincing. She looked further down the table to Aroya. “Would you mind if I borrowed the guest of honor for a few minutes?”

 

“Not at all,” the woman replied, a look of concern crossing her features. “Would you like a box of dessert to go? It won't take me ten seconds to get it wrapped up for you.”

 

“Send some with Ziyal, please,” she said, pushing to her feet. “This was a lovely party. I'm sorry to have to bow out so soon.”

 

“We're just happy you could come,” Leeta said.

 

Uncertain of what she wanted with him, Garak stood and offered an arm to her. She made a show of leaning on him until after they were well away from the small gathering of revelers. She straightened when the turbolift started downward. “You looked like you could use a break,” she said, glancing at him. He opened his mouth and shut it again, dismayed to have been so obvious. “Don't worry,” she added. “I don't think anyone who doesn't dislike parties as much as I do would've noticed.”

 

“It's just a little much after...”

 

“You don't have to explain,” she said. “I do hope you'll go back, though. Ziyal put so much work into the decorations and the guest list.”

 

“I'm going back,” he assured her, “and I'll stay until the party winds down, however long that takes.”

 

“You're good to her. I had my doubts at first, but you've gone a long way toward putting them to rest. I think her feelings are settling a little, too. She's trying, at least. I know you haven't done it for me. I wanted to thank you anyway. I think having a Cardassian in her life who doesn't judge her for who her mother was means a lot to her,” she said.

 

“She's a joy to know,” he said simply. The turbolift stopped, and they both stepped off.

 

“You don't have to walk me to the O'Briens',” she said.

 

“I could use the time,” he said, falling into step with her. “How are you doing uniform wise? You're looking a little snug.”

 

She frowned. “I am,” she said. “I'll bring them by this week. This is so insane. I feel as big as a house, and I keep asking Julian if he's positive I'm not carrying twins. This doesn't go beyond you, me, and the corridor, but I miss my toes.”

 

“When are you due?” he asked.

 

“A month,” she said, “maybe less. It's hard to be completely sure because I'm Bajoran, and Julian doesn't know what that will mean for going into labor.”

 

“Well, just let me know what you need adjusted and when. Are the boots still holding up all right?”

 

“The boots are wonderful. I don't know what you did to them, but it made all the difference. My back still hurts after a full day. I'll take hurting over agony any day of the week.” She stopped in front of the O'Briens' door. “This is me,” she said. “I'd invite you in, but...”

 

“I wouldn't accept,” he said with the trace of a smile. “It would be awkward for you and Mrs. O'Brien, unpleasant for me and the chief, and confusing for Molly. Children that age are wonderful at picking up on awkwardness and terrible at interpreting it correctly.”

 

“You're good with kids. I saw you at the party. Your customers' children genuinely like you. Ever thought of having any of your own?”

 

“Have a good evening, Major. Thank you for coming to the party,” he said instead of answering, inclined his head, turned, and departed. He heard the door open and shut behind him, not needing to glance back to see that she had gone inside. He wondered how she was going to handle having to hand the baby over to the O'Briens. He had heard that such situations could get ugly for the surrogates. He didn't know from personal experience or anyone he knew well.

 

By the time he returned to the party, people were circulating again. Aroya insisted he sit back down and enjoy his dessert. She sat with him, her gaze shifting over the revelers. “Tell me the truth,” she said, looking back to him, her blue eyes sparkling. “Were you really surprised?”

 

“Completely,” he lied convincingly. “Odo told me that as a matter of protocol, he had to escort me to my quarters. He claimed to find the fact that the restaurant was dark strange and insisted I accompany him. You're all fortunate I wasn't wearing a phaser.”

 

She laughed and squeezed his forearm. “I suppose we are!” He noticed Odo watching them and trying not to look as though he were. He smiled to himself and took a bite of the sugared fruits in sweet cream. “If that wasn't a self-satisfied smile, I don't know what is,” she continued. “What are you looking at?”

 

“I think the constable wants your attention,” he said, inwardly gleeful.

 

“Psh,” she snorted softly. “He gets enough of that. Tonight is your night. I suppose you're wanting to know if all your efforts have paid off?”

 

“I would never be so crass as to ask for details,” he all but purred.

 

“But if I offered them, you wouldn't turn your nose up, either,” she said, laughing again. She lowered her voice. “Our constable is an old fashioned sort. In a way, it makes me glad. I still miss my husband after all these years. Were we moving too quickly, I'd feel...awkward. He's a perfect gentleman and one of the kindest people I've ever met. You had good instincts on this one.”

 

I usually do, he thought. He found Ziyal and Jake in the crowd again and watched more closely. Nothing in the boy's body language spoke of anything untoward. He made a mental note to have a little talk with him later, anyway. With Dukat away, he was the next best thing, and somebody had to look out for her interests. Kira was too distracted with the pregnancy.

 

Konil and his wife seemed happy. He was glad that the terrible incident at the Gratitude Festival a few years back hadn't damaged their marriage. Their boy was now a young teen and almost as tall as Garak already. He endured the party with the awkwardness that seemed almost universal to children that age. The adults of the family chatted pleasantly with some of his other customers, and the little girl was surrounded by other girls her age, charming and chatty.

 

Rom took up most of Julian's time, seemingly oblivious to the looks Leeta shot him. Garak decided that he would have to be his next project. The interest was clearly there on both sides. Rom just needed the confidence to pursue it. “This is delicious, Aroya. You've outdone yourself,” he said, polishing off the last of the contents of his dish.

 

“We need to get some weight back on you,” she said. “You got far too thin in that cell.”

 

“You should have seen me in my youth,” he said.

 

“I imagine you were dangerous,” she teased, standing and shooting him a wink. “I had better go tend to grumplepuss before he decides I'm getting my head turned.”

 

Grumplepuss! He wasn't sure he'd be able to look at Odo with a straight face after that, so he turned his focus and attention on Leeta, standing and crossing to where she stood with a drink. “Have I said you look positively radiant this evening?” he asked.

 

She squinted at him. “You're flattering me, so you must want something.”

 

“Just your charming company,” he said.

 

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, clearly skeptical.

 

“Well, perhaps I wanted to ask you something,” he conceded.

 

“Thought so,” she said, sipping her drink.

 

“Why are you standing all the way over here when he's all the way over there?” he asked.

 

“We broke up, Garak. You know that,” she said patiently. “Why aren't you over there?”

 

“I'm not talking about Julian,” he said, slightly sing-song.

 

She blushed prettily. “They're having a conversation. It took Rom such a long time to warm up to Julian, I don't have the heart to interrupt.”

 

He snorted. “Of all of the things I've thought of you over time, I've never thought you lacking in courage.”

 

She took his upper arm in a strong grip and turned him so that they weren't facing the two, leaning close. “I made the first move with Julian,” she hissed, “and it was a disaster. I'm not going down that road again. I need to feel wanted, not like I'm...pushing things.”

 

“I understand, dear,” he said, equally low. He was well aware of how sharp Rom's hearing was. “Just don't be so stand offish that he takes it as rejection. You know he's not the most confident.”

 

“I'm not being stand offish,” she said, then paused. “Am I? Did I look stand offish just now?”

 

“No,” he said, realizing this might be more difficult than he thought it would be at the outset. “As I said, you look radiant.”

 

She shook her head and cracked a smile. “You're a shameless flirt, and you're good for my ego, even if I know you're a huge liar.”

 

“Does that mean you intend to keep me around?” he asked, enjoying himself in their familiar refrain.

 

“Maybe for a while,” she teased. “Now go circulate some more, or people are going to start feeling neglected.”

 

“Circulate with me?”

 

She searched his gaze for a moment and nodded. He couldn't tell what she thought she saw there, or even if she perhaps read him correctly and found him still feeling a tad overwhelmed. She hooked an elbow in the crook of his arm, and paraded him around the room like her own personal prize for more socializing.

 

At last some of the guests began to leave, the ones with small children first, followed by others, until only his closer friends and Jake remained. He felt comfortable enough with them to be able to say he had had enough, in a polite way, of course. “It has been such a lovely evening,” he said. “However, as I'm sure you can imagine, I'd like to get home. The conference is just two days away, and I'll need some time to settle back in.”

 

“Oh, that's right! The conference,” Aroya said. “You know, I'm so pleased you're going. Leeta and I were just talking about that the other day. If I could take the time off, I'd go just to hear what you have to say.”

 

He doubted seriously she would like it and found himself just as glad that she wasn't going. “Perhaps Odo can tell you about it when he gets back.” Odo shot him a look he happily ignored.

 

“Dad is going,” Jake said. “I wanted to, but they said no non-Bajoran press. I think they want to keep it fairly low key.”

 

“Doubtless,” Garak said. He moved to gather his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. “I can't thank all of you enough. This meant a great deal to me.”

 

“You should really thank Ziyal,” Leeta said. “It was her idea.”

 

“Oh, it was more of a joint effort,” Ziyal added quickly.

 

“You're too modest,” Julian said, smiling at her.

 

“I don't doubt that, either,” Garak said.

 

“If your replicator is acting up after all its inactivity, give me a call,” Rom said. “I don't care what time it is. Have a good night, Garak.”

 

“You as well,” he said. He nodded all around, smiled, and left them for the night. Once out of easy view, he picked up his pace. It wasn't that he hadn't truly had a good time. He had. It was just that the call of his own place was strong to him after all that time away and lack of privacy. He wished that he would have more time before the conference, yet he was willing to take whatever he could get. Despite the quarters' smelling stale and a layer of dust over everything, he couldn't recall ever feeling happier about the place. Instead of unpacking, he simply changed the bedclothes, took a long, very hot bath, dressed in thick pajamas, and climbed into his bed. He couldn't recall the last time he had fallen asleep so quickly and easily only to sleep the night through with no troubling dreams.

 

Julian

Internment Camp 371

 

Turning his gaze away from Tain's malicious enjoyment of his predicament, Julian shifted so that he could swing his legs over the edge of the hard bunk, sit up, and set his feet to the floor. His head swam with the residual of whatever drug coursed through his system. Before he had time to react, a female Romulan stepped from shadow to his left and grasped his wrist, slicing something sharp across his palm. “Ow!” he cried out harshly and snatched his hand back, blood spattering the floor in a thin red arc.

 

The woman looked from him to Tain. “This one isn't a changeling,” she said matter-of-factly.

 

“I could've told you that,” Tain said with avuncular cheer. “Doctor Bashir and I go back a long way, don't we, Doctor?”

 

He pointedly ignored both of them for the time it took him to examine his hand and realize that the cut, however painful for being unexpected, was shallow. “I don't suppose there's anything available to clean this,” he said acerbically.

 

“Allow me to show you to our lavish bathing facility,” the Romulan's acidic tone surpassed his in sarcasm.

 

Tain made a soft tutting sound with his tongue. “Sela, is that any way to treat our new bunk mate?”

 

“Since when do you care?” she scoffed, shifting her hard gaze from Julian to Tain.

 

He watched the two of them, fascinated but hardly surprised by how quickly the Cardassian managed to back her down with nothing more than a change to the set of his eyes. Without a word, she turned on her heel and left them, slamming the cell door behind her. Movement caught the corners of his eyes, and with a start, he realized that a Breen was lying on a bunk against the far wall. He felt as though he were trying to think through a thick layer of gauze, his mind slow to track and process. It suddenly hit him as unusual that any of them would be free to come and go from their cell. Before he could ask, Tain began to speak again.

 

“Don't get too excited by Sela's dramatic departure,” he said dryly. “You can leave the cell at any time you like, except during lock downs. You won't get far. We're on an asteroid.”

 

“Why should I believe you?” he asked, not wanting to admit how disconcerted he felt at the moment surrounded by enemies of the Federation, sharing quarters with Enabran Tain, a man he had thought long dead and good riddance.

 

Tain shrugged. “I personally don't care if you mistake an airlock for an exit. You're hardly useful to any of us without your drugs and equipment.” He smiled faintly with dark amusement. “Although I'd love to know what your replacement is doing right now. Do you think Elim will notice?”

 

He felt sick at those words. It hadn't occurred to him that if he was here, there must be a changeling in his place. With the state of things between him and Garak, he considered it very likely that Garak would not notice. He would probably be relieved if it seemed that Julian was finally backing off and giving him the space he demanded. Garak's incarceration wasn't to last that much longer. He wouldn't even have to see him...the changeling...at all if he didn't wish.

 

“Was it something I said?” Tain asked with a smirk at his crestfallen expression. A moment later, he was all business. “Actually, there is something you can do for me, since the Breen is utterly useless and the others seem to be off on their own recognizance.”

 

“What makes you think I'll help you with anything?” Julian demanded, folding his arms and projecting as much contempt as he could manage after being drugged and confronted with such terrifying possibilities.

 

“You want out of here, don't you?” Tain asked reasonably.

 

Frowning, he nodded reluctantly. Of course he did. It didn't take someone with Tain's intellect and observation skills to determine that, which made the offer that much more galling, a simple trap. “What do you need me to do?”

 

As he stood watch at the austere cell door after sequestering Tain in the hidden alcove, he reflected how he shouldn't have been surprised that the old spy master had a trick up his sleeve, modifying the old life support system into a subspace transmitter. He hated the feeling of hope in his breast, because it meant he was relying on someone he normally wouldn't trust to give him the accurate time of day. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering at the relationship between Tain and Garak, what the two actually were to one another. Little wonder that his friend and sometime lover was so resourceful with this man as his mentor.

 

He didn't know how long he stood there with nothing changing, nothing happening, the silent and strangely still Breen at his back, sweat slowly beading and tickling its way down his skin, and his stomach churning as much from anxiety as the drug. How long was he expected to do this? He also realized he needed to relieve himself. Tain had mentioned others. Which others besides the Romulan female, Sela? Where were they?

 

Glancing over his shoulder, he eyed the dark access port to the outdated and unused life support system. How had they even discovered it? He supposed if life at this...prison, if that's what it was...was as uneventful as it seemed to be, all of them would have been looking for creative ways to occupy their time, to escape. He was so absorbed with his curiosity that he almost missed the sound of footsteps approaching. The heavy treads galvanized him into action. He rushed to the opening and dropped to his knees. “Tain,” he called in hushed urgency. When he received no response, he dared more volume. “Tain! We've got company. Come on!”

 

Torn between scuttling in after the man to find out what was wrong or closing up the port, he realized he didn't have time for the former. He was frantically trying to force his limbs to obey him and set the panel into place when the door swung open, and a Klingon and male Romulan rushed him. Just before the Klingon's boot connected with his chin and stole his consciousness, he realized that he recognized him, General Martok.

 

He awoke to voices, at first unable to open his eyes. His entire head throbbed with the pain centered at his chin and jaw. He wondered if it was broken. “...didn't think to ask him what he was doing first?” He recognized the voice as Sela's, raised with anxiety and accusation.

 

“You know how important the plan is,” Martok retorted in a growl. “All I knew was that someone was there who wasn't supposed to be, and Tain was nowhere in sight!”

 

“This fighting is getting us nowhere,” a third voice cut in, another male. “Tain is unconscious. If we can't get him back on his feet, we're done.”

 

“This one,” Sela's voice drew closer, “is a doctor, according to the Cardassian. If you two hadn't been so quick to kick him senseless, he might have been able to help with that.”

 

“I didn't kick him,” the third voice said tautly.

 

“You didn't try to stop Martok, did you?” she spat.

 

“Would you like to try to stop Martok?” the third retorted.

 

“Enough!” Martok bellowed. Julian heard the same heavy tread from the corridor approaching him swiftly. “This one is playing dead and listening to every word we're saying.” Strong fingers seized him by his uniform front and hauled him up to a seated position. “Open your eyes, human,” the Klingon said, his breath washing foul and foetid over his face.

 

He did so, blearily, and tried to focus. His head felt as though it might pop off the stem of his neck and roll to the floor at any minute. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a distorted croak. He tried to motion that he needed something to drink, his hand no more cooperative than it had been before he was knocked out.

 

“Get him some water,” Martok said over his shoulder. “Use my supply.”

 

The male Romulan he had seen just before losing consciousness swam into focus and held a crude metal cup to his lips. “Slowly,” he said, “or you'll make yourself sick.”

 

He nodded to show he understood and sipped at the water, having a better time of it when the Romulan supported the back of his head with his free hand. “Thank you,” he rasped, motioning that he had enough for the moment. The man withdrew, and Julian tried to focus on Martok's face. It was battered, with bruises in various stages of healing, congealing blood streaking one temple, and a messily healed missing eye. “General,” he said carefully, “you seem to be in need of medical attention. May I?”

 

“You know who I am?” the Klingon asked suspiciously.

 

“I'm afraid so,” he said. “A changeling...”

 

Martok held up a hand, and Julian flinched, expecting to be struck. A touch of regret came into the Klingon's remaining eye. “At ease, Starfleeter,” he rumbled. “I'm not going to hurt you again. That was an...unfortunate misunderstanding. As for the rest, I don't need to hear that now.”

 

Realizing that was probably as close to an apology as he was going to get, Julian nodded very slowly to avoid making himself dizzy again. “What's wrong with Tain?” he asked, forcing himself to focus through the pain. He also realized that Martok wasn't likely to allow him to examine his injuries, not yet at least.

 

“A heart condition,” Sela's voice came from somewhere off to their left. “He was supposed to stay out of the alcove for another four hours.” A touch of accusation colored the statement.

 

Gently, Julian pushed at Martok to indicate he could sit up on his own. The Klingon stood and stepped back to give him room. He swung his feet back to the floor and braced himself with his hands on the hard metal lip. “He didn't tell me that,” he said defensively. “After you stormed out of here, he said he needed my help, so I gave it to him.”

 

“Stubborn as a targ and twice as ugly,” Martok said with grudging admiration, glancing at Tain's prone form on his bunk. “You can't blame the doctor,” he told the Romulan. “When Tain wants something, he gets it. I don't need to tell you that.” He offered a hand up to Julian.

 

Accepting the help, he allowed the general to haul him to his feet and was grateful that the man kept his hold until he seemed steady. He glanced around at the stern faces, including the masked Breen still lying on the bunk, and said, “I'm Doctor Julian Bashir, stationed at Deep Space Nine. I'm not sure of how much use I'll be without any supplies, but I'll help as I can.” He approached Tain on slightly unsteady feet and knelt beside him, reaching first to take his pulse, then to test his skin flexibility and look beneath his eyelids. He didn't like anything he was seeing. “He's severely dehydrated,” he said.

 

“They barely give us enough food or water to keep us alive,” the male Romulan said bitterly.

 

He wasn't surprised to hear it. “Well,” he said slowly, “if you want him to stay alive, we're all going to have to figure out a way to go with a little less. Can one of you help me lift him? We need to get some water in him now.”

 

“You'll choke him,” Sela snapped.

 

He forced down the first retort that came to mind. He had no idea how long any of these people had been there or what kind of stress they were under. Answering in kind would simply ratchet the tension, something none of them needed. “Not if we hold him at the proper angle,” he explained patiently. “He'll swallow reflexively, and if we take it slowly, it won't go down his trachea.”

 

“I'll hold him,” Martok said, striding forward and working an arm under the Cardassian. “You show me the angle, Doctor.”

 

Julian helped him get Tain adjusted while Sela systematically stopped at each bunk, pouring a bit of water from every container into Tain's cup until she reached the Breen's bunk. For the first time, the alien reacted, sitting up swiftly and barking out something distorted and garbled that the universal translator made no sense of.

 

“Do you want out of here or not?” Sela demanded, glaring hard at the face mask of the Breen's helmet. “I know you can understand me! Now give me some of that water, or Varal and I will take it from you, I swear it.”

 

The male Romulan stepped closer to the Breen, his intent plain in expression and body language. They all held position for several tense moments until the Breen slowly eased to the side and stood. Varal interposed himself between the alien and Sela while she took some of the water to top off the cup. Julian found himself wondering whether the Romulans were related in some way, crew members, family, lovers, or if they were simply being held together by chance. He couldn't read enough of their body language with one another to make even an educated guess at this point.

 

Varal didn't back away from his vigil until Sela was at Tain's bunk with the cup, and even then, he simply backed up a few steps so that the Breen could return to its bunk unimpeded. “Thank you,” Julian said. To his dismay, he realized his hands weren't yet as steady as he needed them to be. He moved out of the way and gestured to Sela. “I'm going to need you to do this.” He held his hand out to show her the slight tremor. “I don't know if it's from the drug they gave me or being knocked unconscious,” he said evenly.

 

She nodded, faint contempt for him flashing in her eyes before she took his place. He watched her set the cup rim between Tain's ashen lips. She tipped it until a small, thin stream of water flowed into his mouth and paused the flow for every reflexive swallow. It took several minutes for the cup to be fully drained.

 

“One more,” Julian said, bracing himself for how that would likely be received.

 

To his surprise, no one argued. Sela simply made a second round to the water reserves, and this time the Breen didn't even twitch when she took from its supply. He realized that his companions had the same faith in Tain as he unexpectedly possessed, even the Breen, and he wasn't sure what that said of their situation. He suspected it was nothing good.