dark_sinestra

Kira

Dozaria

 

Kira was furious. Ever since they had awakened and gotten underway again, they had done nothing but argue about the girl, Ziyal. In the end, as far as she could tell, what it boiled down to was Dukat wanting to protect his own worthless hide and career at the expense of his daughter. How could someone who could be moved to open tears at a loss after so many years be determined to exterminate the only link he had left to a woman he loved? How could he love being a Legate more than he loved his own flesh and blood, his own daughter?

 

I won't let you do it, she thought fiercely, glancing at him out of the corners of her eyes. They were back to walking side by side again, neither trusting the other at his or her back. She wasn't eager to take his life, as she might once have been, but she knew she wouldn't hesitate if he forced her to it. Once more she thought back to something Garak had said. Don't rely on his better nature to keep him from behaving inappropriately. He doesn't have one. That was turning out to be truer than she could have imagined at the time.

 

I shouldn't have been in such a hurry, she thought. I should've given Garak a chance to find out what was going on. Then we wouldn't be in this mess. Really, though, if Garak knew about the girl, would that make things any better for her? Couldn't he be every bit as dangerous as Dukat? She wouldn't put it past him to hurt a relative of Dukat's just to get to the Legate. She wouldn't even put it past him to kill one. Cardassians! She thought yet again in utter exasperation.

 

It looked to be about mid-afternoon when they finally saw a change in the desert landscape, and not for the better. Harsh cliffs abutted the flat plane of sand. According to Kira's readings, their goal lay somewhere beyond the cliffs. “Looks like we're in for some climbing,” Dukat said in a matter-of-fact way.

 

“Looks like,” she agreed.

 

Toward the base, it was somewhat easier. The rocks were well eroded by the scouring wind and sand. They were able to find small channels cut into them and follow them. It took them out of the brunt of the weather and gave them some respite. However, as they gained elevation, the climb grew harder and more treacherous. Every hand and foothold had to be tested before either could trust their weight to it. Even so, sometimes a hold that seemed solid would suddenly give way, leaving them panting and dangling until they could find more support. Twice the only thing between Kira and a precipitous drop to her death was a strong, gray hand clasped about her wrist. She saved her breath and her thanks until they were on a ledge near the top and could take a quick breather.

 

“You know you should follow the three points of contact rule,” he chided her after he caught his breath.

 

She glared at him. “That's easy for you to say when you're all arms and legs. There were times I had to stretch, because there was nowhere else I could reach. Thanks for looking out for me.”

 

“We are in this together,” he said.

 

She heard something beyond their perch and motioned to him to be quiet. Glancing up, she gestured that they should finish the climb. This time, she managed to make it ahead of him and dart into cover. He did the same, and she fished a pair of binoculars out of her pack. She watched activity near an obvious mine shaft then handed the binoculars over to Dukat so that he could have a look. After a beat, he said, “The Breen? What are they doing here?”

 

She told him about the dilithium concentrations she was getting on her tricorder readings. They determined that the Breen must have been using the survivors to mine it. Dukat's entire posture stiffened suddenly. When he refused to answer why, Kira took the binoculars from him and had a look herself. She saw a girl with mixed Cardassian and Bajoran features carrying water near the mine entrance. “It's her,” she said.

 

“My daughter,” he said, his eyes never leaving her, even though he no longer had the binoculars. He took them back.

 

Kira gave quick thought to what they were going to have to do. She didn't think that she and Dukat alone would be a match for the Breen. They were going to need reinforcements. She also thought that perhaps she saw a way to ensure the safety of the girl. She quickly told Dukat that she'd stay behind and watch while he left in the runabout for Deep Space Nine. To her irritation, he refused, telling her that she could go instead. They quickly reached impasse, and then he did what she had been expecting him to do at some point or another ever since the mission began. He stopped cooperating altogether.

 

“There's no way I'm leaving you alone here,” she snapped.

 

“Then I suggest we devise a plan to rescue the prisoners together,” Dukat said. “You need me, Major.”

 

Damn him for being so stubborn! He was going to get both of them killed, and then where would his precious career be? She knew she couldn't force him to leave and there was no chance of her staging a rescue on her own. “Maybe I do,” she finally conceded, “but if you hurt that girl, I promise I'll kill you.” Let him stew on that, she thought, not even slightly bluffing. She could tell from the look in his eyes that he knew.

 

“Well?” he asked. “What are we to do?”

 

“Oh, that's rich,” she said. “You're going to refuse my direct orders and then turn around and pretend this is still my mission because you have no idea what to do.”

 

“You're wasting time, Major,” he said tersely. “We can fight all the way back home if you like. For now, you need to focus.”

 

She narrowed her eyes. He was dangerously close to getting punched in the mouth. “Fine,” she said tightly. “We're going to need the element of surprise, which means we're going to need a couple of those uniforms. Let's see if we can lure those outside guards into an ambush and go from there. We have no idea about their patrol patterns or anything else. I hope you realize you're putting us at a horrible disadvantage.”

 

“You're free to go get reinforcements,” he said.

 

“And let you kill your daughter while I'm gone? No chance. I already made that clear. I'm done talking about this. Let's go,” she said, starting to move stealthily closer to the mine. They'd be lucky if any of them survived this, she thought angrily. If they did get out alive, she decided she probably would send a complaint to the Cardassian military as he had suggested, for all the good it would do.

 

Getting into position took far longer than it did for them to attract the attention of the two guards, disable them, and obtain their uniforms. After seeing the creatures, Kira was reluctant to wear anything they had been wearing, but it had to be done. She and Dukat made their way inside, disabled a third guard, and made contact with some of the Bajoran and Cardassian prisoners. Then as far as Kira was concerned, everything went to hell, thanks to Dukat's stubbornness and duplicity.

 

She found herself trapped in a firefight with more Breen while he ran down a side corridor in search of Ziyal. Only the arrival of the Cardassians he sent away to get more prisoners saved her and the woman, Heler. She didn't have time to react to the sad news that her friend Lorit had died in a cave-in two years prior. She had to reach Ziyal before Dukat did, or at least before he had a chance to kill the girl. She sent the prisoners toward the front of the mine shaft, promising to meet them there, and took off in the direction she had seen Dukat run.

 

She found a downed Breen, only to almost have her head taken off by phaser fire. Kosst, she thought, diving for cover and returning fire. At this rate, she'd be fighting her way through all of the remaining guards. Would she be too late? Taking a gamble, she suddenly directed her fire at a spot above the Breen's head. Several rocks dislodged and fell atop the unlucky alien. Just to be sure, she darted forward and finished it off. She didn't need a wounded enemy flanking her.

 

She continued running mostly blindly, unsure of where to go next. On instinct, she followed the main passageway, not turning off at any branches. There were no more downed Breen to give her any clues. Prophets be thanked, she thought when she heard voices from up ahead, one of them unmistakably Dukat's. She stepped into a small chamber with a well, seeing Dukat ahead of her with his rifle already raised and a glimpse of the girl beyond him. “Dukat, no,” she said sharply.

 

The confusion in the girl's voice as she questioned what was happening broke her heart. This girl was an innocent. She didn't deserve this. Kira trained her rifle squarely on Dukat and tightened up the slack on the trigger, having every intention of shooting him dead on the spot if he so much as twitched wrong. She'd deal with the traumatized girl later if it came to that. Still, she hoped that she could reason with him and tried her best. It looked as though he wasn't going to listen to reason.

 

Suddenly, the girl cut in again, sounding devastated. “The Cardassian prisoners...they told me this would happen,” she said, “that you'd never let me go home, but I didn't believe them.”

 

“Ziyal, run!” Kira barked, desperate to get the girl out of there, out of the line of danger.

 

“I used to dream about you coming to save me,” she said to him, ignoring Kira. “It's what kept me alive.”

 

“Ziyal,” he said, his voice thick with anguish.

 

Good, she thought fiercely. You should feel terrible for this!

 

Looking resigned, the girl straightened herself a little. “If I can't be with you,” she said, “I'd rather die.”

 

Watching like a hawk, Kira saw the rifle tip waver then lower. The girl approached him slowly and wrapped her arms around him. Kira tensed all over again when he thrust her back to arms' length. For Prophet's sake, be a father! she thought, her finger still taut on the trigger.

 

“Let's go home,” he said softly, pulling her in and holding her close.

 

Kira let out a sigh of relief. “I hate to interrupt this,” she said softly, “but we're not safe yet. We have to get out of here.”

 

They both nodded and Dukat turned, all business once more. The remaining Breen guards weren't difficult to dispatch. The hardest part left to them was walking the weakened prisoners back through the punishing desert landscape to the runabout so that they could get underway.

 

Kira kept to herself for the most part, trying to come to terms with the fact that a hope she had held to for over six years had been dashed. Her good friend was dead. She was happy and grateful to have been able to rescue the rest of them, but she worried about the girl. Would Dukat's resolve remain true? Would he stand by his daughter, or was she yet in more danger? What would happen if he took her to Cardassia? What would they do to her, to him? She didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't help it. Something about the simple dignity with which the girl had faced her father touched and impressed her. It had obviously touched Dukat, too. Was there a chance that he could learn something about the occupation from all of this? Could he change?

 

Stop it, Kira, she told herself in exasperation, the runabout on auto pilot and her presence at the controls little more than for show, as well as an excuse to stay away from Dukat. What does it matter if he changes? Does it make him any less responsible for all of his crimes? No, she thought a bit sadly, but if change doesn't matter, what does that mean for someone like me? She didn't have a good answer for that.

 

She was glad to get back to the station and back to normal. She was also glad to hear that he had decided to be the father that Ziyal deserved, despite the possible consequences. As she watched him walk away, another familiar voice caught her attention, and she turned to find Garak approaching her from the stairs leading to the second level of the Promenade. “I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you back in one piece,” Garak said smoothly.

 

I'll just bet, she thought with some amusement. While she no longer believed that Garak loathed her, she was under no illusions that he felt any real attachment beyond what might be useful for him. “Your advice...helped,” she said.

 

“I'm glad,” he said. “Once I discovered why Dukat was going to such lengths to accompany you, I feared for your safety.”

 

“You...know?” she asked. She realized she shouldn't have felt so astonished, but such things did stretch Garak's claims of being nothing more than a tailor beyond the bounds of credibility.

 

“Indeed,” he said. “Truthfully, I'm surprised he's bothering going back to Cardassia. There will be no welcome for him there.”

 

Something about the way Garak said that gave her pause. “I don't suppose you would have anything to do with that?” she asked, frowning.

 

“Do?” he asked, staring at her as though she might have been dropped on her head as a child. “Why would I have to do anything? He's taking a half breed back to Cardassia Prime and acknowledging her as his own. If anyone is doing anything to ensure his utter ruin, it's Dukat. Cardassian society doesn't need my hand to guide it in that matter.”

 

“That 'half breed', as you call her, is his daughter,” Kira said tightly. “A very brave, very intelligent girl. I'm not going to stand here and listen to you insult her, Garak.”

 

“You misunderstand me,” Garak said impatiently. “What I think doesn't matter. The fact remains. There is no place on Cardassia for such a child or for one willing to claim her.”

 

She had heard enough, turning to walk away from him. “Then all I can say,” she said over her shoulder, “is more's the pity for Cardassia.”

 

Garak

The Promenade, second level

 

Garak watched Kira retreat, feeling quite pleased with himself. He hadn't done much; it was true. Dukat had made his own bed for years, unwisely cultivating all sorts of enemies, people with very long memories who weren't quick to forget such slights as Dukat was famous for meting out. All Garak had done was nudged a few people in the right direction. No one would be surprised when Dukat came home with Ziyal in tow. There'd be no hiding her, no being discreet. He could hardly wait to hear of the fallout. It was, of course, a shame that the girl would be hurt in the process, but she would have been regardless. No one on Cardassia would ever accept a half breed of any race, Bajoran or otherwise.

 

A familiar tread had him turning. “Ah, Doctor, good afternoon,” he said pleasantly.

 

“I saw you standing up here gazing out the star port and thought I'd come say hello,” Julian said amiably. “What has you in such a good mood?”

 

“Haven't you heard that Major Kira returned safely from her mission?” he asked.

 

“As a matter of fact, I have,” the doctor said, looking slightly skeptical. “I wasn't aware you had a particular fondness for the major.”

 

“Don't be silly,” Garak said, waving a hand. “A friend of a friend. I'm sure you understand.”

 

“Right,” he said, looking amused.

 

“Why do I get the feeling you don't believe me?” the tailor asked, adopting a mock wounded posture.

 

Julian chuckled. “I can't imagine why,” he said. “Since you're in such a good mood, I suppose now would be a good time to ask you if you'd like to come to dinner some time this week.”

 

“Our lunches aren't enough for you these days?” he asked, arching a brow ridge.

 

Julian colored slightly and looked away. “Actually,” he said, “this invitation isn't coming just from me. Leeta wanted me to invite you.”

 

“She did?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “Whatever for?”

 

“How did she put it? She wants to get to know someone so important to me better. So, will you come, or not?” he asked.

 

“Do you actually want me to?” Garak asked in return. “You seem reluctant.”

 

“Well, you have to admit, it's a little awkward,” he replied.

 

“I can't imagine what could be awkward about having dinner with your ex and your current romantic interest,” Garak said dryly.

 

Julian pressed his lips together in a way Garak still found endearing beyond words. “I'd like for you to come,” he said. “She has been pressuring me about this for a while now. The only reason I haven't asked sooner is because...well, I didn't want to hurt you.”

 

Garak smiled. “You're a dear boy, but I assure you, I'm quite beyond that now. Why not? What night were you considering? I'll be sure to keep my calendar clear.”

 

“You are?” he asked then shook his head. “Forget I asked that. I'm glad to hear it. Anyway, we were thinking three nights from now?”

 

“Delightful,” he said, not buying the “glad to hear it” part for one second. He had seen how Julian's face fell. It was brief, but it was there. The question was did he want to do something about it? That would call for some serious thought. He had been making every effort to keep their friendship at just that level, but he had to admit that at times it was difficult. Was it possible that the two of them had grown and changed enough to make revisiting something more a good move?

 

“What?” Julian asked warily. “What are you thinking?”

 

“Beg pardon?” he asked, all innocence once more. “Oh, I was simply wondering if I should bring anything.”

 

The doctor eyed him a beat longer than necessary if he believed him. Garak was fairly certain that he didn't. He did know him quite well, after all. “If you'd like to bring something to drink or a dessert, I'm sure Leeta would be happy with that. I trust your judgment.”

 

Garak smiled widely. “Ah, my dear doctor, I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that,” he said. Yes, this had shaped up to be quite a nice day. He decided that when he was shopping for a host gift for Leeta and Julian, he'd also get a little something for Quark and Major Kira. If nothing else, it would keep them guessing, which as far as he was concerned was exactly how it should be.

 

The End

Author Notes: This story spans Hippocratic Oath and Indiscretion. It's not very stand-alone friendly, at least in context of what has happened with Julian and Garak. As with one of the previous stories, this time I decided to delve into Major Kira's viewpoint, too, and I included some of the dialogue from Indiscretion just because it would have been almost impossible to shape the narrative without it.

Summary: Julian struggles with his duties of command and the strain it can place on friendships while trying to solidify his relationship with Leeta and learns that he's not the only one on the station experiencing such difficulties. When Legate Dukat arrives unexpectedly on the station, Major Kira is forced to confront old prejudices and new worries as she joins forces with him to find a missing Bajoran prison transport ship, leaving an opening for Garak to start to settle an old score.

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: February-March 2010

Category: Gen with some slashy elements

Rating: PG-13 for adult situations, mild violence, and mild adult language.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my settings. All Paramount's. I don't profit. I just play.

Word Count: 13,501

 

Garak

Replimat Café

 

“As you can imagine, it has been rather frustrating,” Garak said with a sigh. He was used to carrying the lion's share of conversation on the days he breakfasted with Odo. He wasn't used to the changeling hardly hearing a word he said. Narrowing his eyes a bit crossly he added, “After all, how can anyone on Cardassia be expected to care about a few missing ships when there's a slipper shortage?”

 

“True,” Odo said absently, lifting his illusory mug to have a sip of his illusory coffee. Garak still hadn't gotten used to Odo's way of trying to make others comfortable when eating with him but hadn't had the heart to tell him it was more than a little creepy.

 

“You haven't been listening to a word I've said for over twenty minutes,” Garak accused, setting his fork down with a definitive gesture of pique.

 

Odo blinked, truly focusing on him for the first time that morning. It was his turn to sigh. “I'm sorry, Garak,” he said. “You're right.”

 

Garak studied him for a few moments. “These breakfasts aren't just for my benefit,” he said. “If you need to get something off your chest, I'm actually a decent listener.”

 

Odo nodded thoughtfully. He reshaped his hand so that the illusory mug disappeared altogether. “I'm not...used to talking to others in this capacity,” he said. Garak remained encouragingly silent, offering him an attentive look. “It's Lieutenant Commander Worf,” he added, almost growling the Klingon's name.

 

“A rather dour fellow,” Garak offered, the sort of noncommittal comment that usually kept the other speaker talking.

 

“Yes,” the changeling agreed, “and very annoying. He ruined an investigation of mine last night.”

 

“What did he do?”

 

Odo briefly explained how he had worked it out with Quark to set up a basic nobody so that Odo could infiltrate the large and lucrative Markalian smuggling ring and how Worf bungled the entire operation by showing up in the middle of the sting. “It was bad enough that he continually butted into my investigation from the beginning, but he made me look like an idiot in front of Quark. It was hard enough to get Quark to cooperate in the first place. How am I supposed to do my job with some ham fisted Starfleet goon breathing down my back at my every turn?”

 

“I have every confidence that you'll manage,” Garak said, amused and trying not to show it. He genuinely liked Odo, but he felt he often got a little too tightly wrapped in his whole truth and justice for everyone shtick. “This isn't the first time you've had trouble with the Fleeters interfering with your job, right? What did you do about it this time?”

 

Odo frowned and looked away. “Nothing,” he said. “I told him what he had done, but I left it out of my report.”

 

That surprised the tailor. “Why?” he asked.

 

Odo pressed his lips together. “He's new,” he said uncomfortably. “He doesn't know how things work around here.”

 

“What better incentive than a dressing down from a superior officer?” Garak asked. He didn't say it, but he thought Odo's decision was a very Fleeter way of handling things.

 

“He was embarrassed about what happened,” Odo said a bit defensively.

 

“As he should have been,” he said with a nod. “Do you believe that embarrassment will be enough to keep him out of your affairs in the future? If there is one thing I have noticed about Starfleet officers over the years, Constable, it is that they are insufferably stubborn and persistent, even when they are clearly in the wrong.”

 

“That trait isn't limited to Starfleet,” Odo said a little pointedly. “I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt this once. It just rankles. Did you still wish to speak about what you were saying earlier?”

 

Garak shook his head. “It's not as though you or anyone else can do anything about it. My government is understandably preoccupied with the Klingon occupation of several of our outlying colonies. They aren't going to be in any hurry to investigate the disappearance of a few Obsidian Order ships. I doubt they would be even without the difficulties with the Klingons. Everyone seems quite satisfied with their 'accomplishments' in establishing a toothless civilian government. Why, perhaps in a few decades, a few powers in this quadrant will deign to call us civilized.” He couldn't keep the bitter sarcasm from his voice.

 

“You suspect that Tain might still be alive,” Odo said, not asking.

 

Damn him and his perceptiveness! “Anything is possible,” he said much more casually than he felt and shrugged. “At the least, I believe it possible there were survivors from the offensive. It bears investigation. Many of the people who were lost would provide useful skills and intelligence to the current government.”

 

“If I hear anything, I'll let you know,” he offered. “Unfortunately, it seems that my contacts on Cardassia have gone dry for now.”

 

Garak nodded, unsurprised. “If you like, I'm sure I can stir up the Klingon's suspicions sufficiently that he'll stop paying attention to you altogether and keep an eye on me,” he said cheerfully.

 

The constable snorted. “One Klingon beating wasn't enough for you? No, Garak, you had best not. Even though neither of you have official ties to your home governments right now, I wouldn't put it past either the Cardassian Union or the Klingon Empire to seize upon rumors of a broiling feud here on this station and use it as an excuse to do something unwise.”

 

The tailor tilted his head and graced Odo with one of his most disconcerting smiles. “Constable,” he said, “you actually believe those four thugs could've laid a finger on me had I not allowed it?” Still smiling, he stood and lifted his tray, his plate not cleaned but his appetite sated. “As always, our time together has been delightful and informative. I had best get to work.” He enjoyed Odo's speculative look as he walked away. Keep them guessing was one of his favorite games. It was even more fun with Odo, because he was actually quite good at it. He wondered if he would piece together the fact that he was the one who had provided the Klingons with their false intelligence that led to their overconfidence during the raid on the station. Not that it mattered much if he did. His own satisfaction with the outcome was plenty for him.

 

Julian

Docking Ring

 

Julian couldn't wait to get away from Miles. He was so angry with the man he could hardly see straight. Why had he felt the urge to be even slightly conciliatory? He knew that he should be writing him up for his gross insubordination that likely resulted in the death of every single Jem'Hadar on that planet on which they had crash landed, but he couldn't entirely bring himself to ignore Miles' reasoning for it. Damn him! Who did he think he was treating him like a wet behind the ears cadet? He couldn't know anymore than Julian could that the Jem'Hadar would have killed them. What if he had actually been successful? What if he had managed to free them from their addiction, and they in turn had managed to free others of their kind? Revolutions had started with far humbler beginnings than that.

 

He didn't want to go back to his quarters. He was too wound up to be alone, but he knew that Leeta would be working late. Dax wasn't an option. She would either insist that he write Miles up for insubordination or more likely side with Miles and praise him for saving him from himself. That would only serve to make him angrier. There was a time when he would have readily gone to Garak with such a thing. He no longer felt as though he had that right. Their lunches were one thing. Problems after dark? He wasn't so certain he'd be welcome.

 

He hesitated a fraction too long outside Quark's. Leeta spotted him in the doorway and beckoned him inside. He knew not to approach her at the dabo wheel unless he intended to play. Quark and Rom both had made that abundantly clear to him on several occasions. Instead, he smiled and nodded to her and took a seat at the bar. “What'll it be, Doctor?” Quark asked as he made his way down to him.

 

“Pint of Guinness,” he said, resting his elbow on the bar top and his cheek on his fist.

 

“Woman problems?” Quark asked, turning to the tap.

 

“What?” he asked, sitting up straighter. “No, nothing like that.”

 

“Man problems,” the bartender said pragmatically. When the glass was about three quarters full he let it rest for a bit and folded his arms across his chest.

 

“No,” Julian said, feeling needled. “It's neither, besides which, it's none of your business, Quark.”

 

“I'm a bartender,” the Ferengi said, “which means when a customer comes in wearing a long face, like yours, I'm expected to make it my business. Do you think Morn would spend the time in here that he does without my sympathetic ear and sturdy shoulders?”

 

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said, watching him top off the pint. “Morn comes here to get drunk and chase women.”

 

Quark tutted and offered Julian his pint. “In all the vast space of the Alpha Quadrant, there are countless places to get drunk and chase women,” he said, “but there's only one me.”

 

“I suppose we should all thank God for small favors, hmm?” Julian asked sourly and turned his back to the bar. He didn't want cloying fake pity, and he didn't want to spread things that would get back to Miles, no matter how angry with him he might be. He watched the crowd at the dabo wheel enjoying themselves and Leeta doing her part to ensure that they stayed focused on her and not the game. She was good at it, a favorite among several of the customers. Instead of feeling any jealousy, in moments like that he was proud of her. He knew she kept a professional attitude toward her work.

 

After his second pint, he felt some of his knots start to unwind. By his third, he was physically relaxed and tired from his ordeal on the planet. He started to wonder if he'd even make it until the end of Leeta's shift. With eyelids drooping, he finally caught her attention and gave her the signal they had worked out to request that she meet him in his quarters later.

 

He shuffled from the bar and took the seemingly longer than usual walk to his quarters, took a long shower, and dressed himself in the green pajamas Garak had given him a few years before. They were the most comfortable thing he owned, as much for the memories they evoked as for the luxurious fabric and perfect fit. Yawning widely, he instructed the computer to let Leeta in when she hailed, even if he was already asleep by the time she got there.

 

He awoke to the soft, warm weight of her settling in with him and started to turn. “Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie,” she said softly. “I was hoping not to wake you up. You looked so tired in the bar.”

 

“It's all right,” he said muzzily. “I wanted to talk, anyway.” He did his best to shake the cobwebs from his brain and pulled her close.

 

She rested her cheek against his chest and trailed her fingers soothingly down his neck. “OK,” she said. “Did something happen on the away mission? You were gone longer than I expected.”

 

“You could say that,” he said with a sigh. “It's Miles. He completely disregarded a direct order, and I'm afraid it led to the death of several Jem'Hadar.”

 

She was quiet for a bit longer than he expected after that, finally saying, “Umm, I'm not sure I understand how that's a bad thing.”

 

He snorted a soft laugh. “Well, no, I didn't exactly put that in context, did I?” He briefly outlined everything that happened, from the crash landing on the planet to the strange Jem'Hadar leader who had managed to free himself of his addiction to ketracel white and who wanted Julian to do the same for the rest of his people. He spoke of his research and how close he felt he was to a breakthrough, when Miles had destroyed all the samples and his equipment, giving him no choice but to accompany him back to the runabout and to go back on his word.

 

“I know you're angry at him,” she said carefully, “but I don't think he was wrong. He did what he had to in order to save both of you.”

 

“You don't know that,” he said testily. He had expected her to be understanding, not to side with Miles! “You weren't there. You didn't talk to their leader.”

 

“I don't have to be there to know that Miles isn't prone to disobeying orders, Julian. He's one of the most by the book men I've ever met. If he made the decision to sabotage your research, he must have believed that the threat was too great. You're mad at him because it hurt your pride, when you should be grateful he saved your life,” she said reasonably.

 

“I don't want to talk about this anymore,” he said, tense all over again. “Let's just go to sleep.”

 

She pulled away and turned her back to him. “I'm sorry,” she said, “I was under the impression you wanted my honest opinion, not blind agreement.”

 

He frowned. They didn't fight often, but when they did, it could get heated. He wanted to cut that off at the pass if he could, or he'd be in for a very frosty awakening the next morning. “Of course I wanted your honest opinion. It's just...I'm a doctor. I feel responsible for those deaths. Not only that, but I was on the verge of a significant breakthrough, research that could have helped us break the back of the Dominion's supply of shock troops. I felt the risk was worth it.”

 

“What good would it have done if you and Miles were killed? That research wouldn't have gotten off that planet. It would've been one small group of Jem'Hadar living in hiding until they died,” she said.

 

“You don't know that. They might have spread the word, given more Jem'Hadar the opportunity to be free. They might have even turned against the Founders.”

 

“How likely do you really think that is?” she asked, twisting to address him over her shoulder. “Is the remote possibility of that worth Miles' life? I'm not going to ask you about yours. I know you well enough to know you're willing to make that sacrifice. What about Keiko and Molly? Would you be willing to look them in the eye and tell them you sacrificed their husband and father for a slim chance that the Jem'Hadar might someday rebel against the Founders?”

 

As much as he hated it, she had a point. He had been so caught up in the idea that Miles knew what he was signing up for when he became a Starfleet engineer that he hadn't thought much beyond that. It could've been just as likely that things would've happened as Leeta said, one small group of Jem'Hadar living without addiction and dying there, Keiko widowed, and Molly growing up without a father just for that. “I suppose you're right,” he said grudgingly. “After I've cooled off, I'll have a talk with Miles.”

 

“He's a good man, and he's your friend,” she said. “I doubt it was easy for him to disobey a direct order, particularly coming from someone he cares about.”

 

More than you realize, he thought glumly, the conversation in the shuttle craft before their crash coming back to him now. Miles had come so very close to saying how he wished that Keiko were more like Julian. He had hoped that the engineer's infatuation with him had faded, but that didn't seem to be the case. He knew that sooner or later, he'd probably have to address it. As things stood, he envisioned that to be later. Much, much later. He put his arm around Leeta and pulled her in close, settling his nose at the fragrant nape of her neck. “You're right,” he said without reserve. “Thank you. I'm sorry I was such an ass.”

 

“We're all entitled to our moments,” she said and covered his hand with hers, tangling fingers. “Now, I hope you're ready for some sleeping moments. I'm beat.”

 

Quark's tendency to overwork her was another sore point, one he was wise enough to leave alone for that night. One near fight as exhausted as he felt was plenty. “Absolutely,” he said, and the two drifted off to sleep.

 

Garak

Private Quarters

 

Garak had just finished eating his modest supper alone when his door chimed. “Computer,” he said, “who is at the door?”

 

“Major Kira Nerys,” came the response.

 

Somewhat surprised, he set his napkin aside and stood. “Enter,” he called pleasantly.

 

The door hissed open, and Kira stepped inside. She glanced at the table. “Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting your dinner, Garak,” she said, sounding a little tense, “but I'm pressed for time. Do you have a minute?”

 

“Actually, Major, your timing is impeccable,” he said. “I had just finished.” He gestured for her to have a seat on his sofa while he cleaned his table. “What can I do for you?”

 

She perched herself on the edge of the couch and waited until he could join her. “I'm not entirely sure you can do anything, but...I need some advice.”

 

His curiosity piqued, he sat forward, leaning toward her. “Sartorial in nature?” he asked. “I've rarely seen you out of uniform, but I doubt you'd like my opinion of Bajoran fashion.”

 

“What?” she asked, blinking. “No, nothing like that. It's about Dukat.”

 

That was even more surprising. Warily, he asked, “What about Dukat?”

 

“He's here on the station. It's a long story, but I heard some reliable information that a ship I've been looking for may have been found, at least a part of it. Somehow, the Cardassian government got its hands on the information and requested to send a representative.” She stopped abruptly and narrowed her eyes at him. “You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?”

 

Garak snorted a laugh. “My dear Major, I fear you give me far more credit than I deserve when it comes to contact with my government.”

 

“You got word to them awfully fast about the Klingon invasion,” she pointed out.

 

He arched an eye ridge. “I would hazard a guess that news of impending invasion ranks a bit higher than the fact that a ship may or may not have been found, wouldn't you say? They would have listened to Morn when it came to that. No, for something of this nature, I have very little sway. They sent Gul Dukat, you say?”

 

“Legate,” she said tightly with a roll of her eyes. “He's prancing around in the uniform like a glorified harp bird.”

 

So Dukat scored himself a promotion to Legate thanks to my efforts, Garak thought sourly.

 

“You really didn't know about any of this, did you?” she asked, reading his expression accurately.

 

“I'm afraid not,” he said. “What is it, exactly, that you think I can do for you?”

 

“I was thinking about when the self-destruct sequence got triggered and we were all trapped in Ops together. You said that Dukat was trying to flirt with me,” she said uncomfortably.

 

“It was rather more blatant than just flirting, but yes,” he said.

 

“I don't want him getting ideas,” she gestured helplessly.

 

Garak shook his head impatiently. “He already has ideas. If you want my advice on how to handle Dukat, it's fairly simple. Don't turn your back on him for a single moment. Don't trust a word he says, and don't take anything he does at face value. Don't rely on his better nature to keep him from behaving inappropriately. He doesn't have one. Lastly, if I were you, I'd do my best to discover why a Legate has taken such a personal interest in this ship of yours. It is highly unusual for a Cardassian of that rank to set foot off planet for anything less than a diplomatic mission or an invasion. Can you tell me what the ship was carrying? That may help narrow it down.”

 

“Bajoran prisoners,” she said.

 

“So this was a Cardassian ship?” he asked.

 

“Yes, the Ravinok. Does that mean anything to you?”

 

He shook his head. “No, I've never heard of it, not that that means much. When are you scheduled to leave?” he asked, thinking he might have some time to look it up.

 

“Within the hour,” she said, sounding as though she'd rather be doing almost anything else.

 

That was no good. He frowned thoughtfully, eying her. “All I can tell you with any certainty is that the ship was either carrying something more than prisoners, or Dukat has a personal stake in this. Either possibility mandates that you take particular care if you hope to return in one piece. You wouldn't be the first to have an...unfortunate accident...alone with Dukat, otherwise.”

 

“I'll keep that in mind,” she said grimly. “Thank you, Garak. I'd best go. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can get back and have him out of my hair.”

 

He stood when she did and escorted her to the door. “I'm always happy to be of assistance,” he said pleasantly. As soon as she was gone, he turned and took a seat at his computer terminal. She had piqued his curiosity about the ship. Perhaps he could find something incriminating on Dukat. He certainly hoped so. Legate Dukat, indeed, he thought. We'll see about that.

 

Kira Nerys

USS Rio Grande

 

Finally some peace and quiet, Kira thought, leaning back in her seat and shutting her eyes. She could no more meditate in Dukat's presence than she could actually relax, but at least the excuse and the threat of ordering him silent did the trick. Cardassians, she thought in exasperation. Her life would be so much simpler without them. Then again, her life wouldn't be what it was; she wouldn't be what she was without their influence, without the occupation. Would that be such a bad thing? She wondered.

 

She had always been more of a doer than a thinker. Before her posting to Deep Space Nine, her life had been shaped by the very real threat of death always around the corner. Such conditions were hardly fertile ground for deep thinking or philosophizing. That was for those with the luxury of a certain meal, a safe place to sleep, and no need to have eyes in the back of their head. Everything was different now, including relations between Bajor and Cardassia, as Dukat himself had pointed out. The fact that he was making a blatant parallel between their respective worlds and each other hadn't been lost on her, and she found it offensive. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

 

He was out of his mind if he thought that Bajor benefited from Cardassia's rule. Was it possible he truly believed that, or was he saying it to needle her? It was impossible to tell. She recalled Garak's words. Don't trust a word he says, and don't take anything he does at face value. Hadn't Tekeny said something similar about Garak? In some ways, Garak had proven the man wrong since then. She still didn't trust him completely, probably never would, but she couldn't take the position that he was malicious and hell bent on the destruction of every Starfleeter and Bajoran on the station, either. Garak seemed to exist in a confusing world of shades of gray, a world in which she had never been comfortable, but one in which she found herself increasingly in her role on the station.

 

Now she was on a joint search and possible rescue mission with Gul, no, Legate Dukat. He claimed that he was sent because the crew of the Ravinok had been under his command. Even had Garak not warned her to look for other motivations, she would have found that one hard to believe. How many Cardassian ships from the occupation had gone missing through the years? Of those that had, how many would attract the interest of any Cardassian Legate unless they had been carrying important Cardassian crew? There was something she was missing here. For the life of her, she couldn't begin to piece together what. Maybe she had been hasty in insisting they get underway before Garak could have a chance to look into things. The man was nothing if not good at digging up dirt. Still, if there was even a chance that her friend could be alive and suffering somewhere, she owed it to him and everyone with him to act quickly to find them and bring them home.

 

Maybe when they learned more, Dukat would reveal more. She'd have to watch him carefully. She wished that she was better at reading people or perhaps more imaginative. Others seemed to grasp nuances that completely slipped her awareness all the time. Shakaar claimed he loved her for her bluntness. It was a quality Bareil had admired as well. She had a hard time seeing what was so great about it. More often than not, it meant she was having to apologize to someone for hurting their feelings or overstepping her bounds. It was something she wanted to change about herself, but she had no idea how to go about doing that.

 

Sighing slightly, she opened her eyes again, only to shoot Dukat a warning look when she saw him open his mouth out of the corners of her vision. That sigh was not an invitation for him to comment or question. Maybe there was something positive to be said for not being subtle after all, because at her look, he shut his mouth and settled back again, seemingly determined to uphold his end of the agreement that the mission was hers. She wondered how long such cooperation would last and caught herself reflexively touching her phaser. Hopefully, it won't come to that, she thought grimly.

 

To her amazement, the Cardassian managed the full six hours to the meeting point with the smuggler Razka without saying another word. She wondered if that was a record for him. As they neared Razka's ship in the Badlands, she said, “Let me do most of the talking. Razka has no love for you or any Cardassian. He's going to be plenty ticked off that I have you with me to begin with.”

 

“Without me, you'll have a hard time determining whether this scrap of his is a piece of the Ravinok or not,” Dukat said reasonably.

 

“I know that,” she snapped, not enjoying being reminded that she needed him for anything. She tried to smooth her tone over a bit when she added, “I doubt he'll be as understanding. Just keep quiet, OK?”

 

“As you wish,” he said smoothly, inclining his head with what he probably thought was a charming half smile.

 

She snorted softly and hailed Razka's ship. The two of them made their way to the runabout's transporter pad and beamed over. As she suspected, Razka wasn't at all pleased to see who she had with her and chided her for not warning him. He relaxed somewhat when she explained that she hadn't known she'd have company at the time she talked to him. However, he immediately began needling Dukat, who of course couldn't resist rising to the bait. She privately wished that she could smack both of them. Nothing was so bad that couldn't be made worse by two males in a pissing contest.

 

Happily, the mission bore fruit. The scrap was definitely from the Ravinok. Unfortunately, it came from a system light years from where it was supposed to be, which meant even more time spent in the unwelcome company of Dukat. She was glad to get away from Razka and the Badlands. The flight to the Dozaria system was uneventful, the two speaking only because they were trying to figure out how or why the ship got so far off course. She found that speaking to him was less unpleasant when there was a purpose for it and when he was too occupied with thinking to continue with his flirting.

 

Razka had been right when he described the planet there as barely M-class. There was far too much ionic interference in the atmosphere for a safe beam down, so Kira was forced to take the runabout in for a rough and difficult landing. If she could be said to have looked forward to anything less than spending a long time alone with Dukat in a runabout, it was to having to trek an unknown planet with him on foot. She said nothing of her unease or misgiving, feeling that it would provide him with perverse satisfaction, instead simply gathering together a supply pack and tossing him one so that he could do the same.

 

When they exited the bay of the runabout, Dukat instantly squinted and shielded his eyes with a hand. Kira pulled at the throat of her uniform and decided to remove her jacket. It was far too hot to travel covered from neck to wrists in thick fabric. She felt Dukat's eyes on her as she removed the garment and frowned to herself, tucking it away in her pack in case she needed it later. Who knew what the temperature would be like at night, assuming they were there that long?

 

“Are you ready?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she said, exiting the runabout and signaling to close the bay doors so that sand wouldn't blow inside and possibly foul up some of the equipment. She looked around the mostly featureless, barren landscape and pointed her phaser rifle at a rise in the distance. “Let's start over there,” she said. “We'll get a better view of the surroundings from there.”

 

“As you wish,” he said, gesturing her ahead of him.

 

“Nuh uh,” she said, shaking her head. “You're crazy if you think I'm going to have you at my back with a rifle.”

 

“Major, you wound me,” he said, bringing his free hand to his chest.

 

“I notice you're in no hurry to have me at your back,” she said dryly.

 

He smiled in a way she didn't quite like. “Together, then?” he proposed.

 

She rolled her eyes, and they got underway. It was tough going, brutally hot with a wind that constantly whipped them and scoured them with stinging grit. Dukat stayed quiet all the way until they reached the rise. He finally couldn't resist making small talk. “Invigorating, isn't it? A bit sunny, perhaps, but this heat feels wonderful,” he said.

 

“Only a Cardassian could call this hellhole invigorating,” she retorted, in no mood for his posturing.

 

“Oh, that's right. I forgot,” he said. “Compared to us, you Bajorans are a bit...fragile, physiologically speaking, of course.”

 

“Don't worry about me,” she said, pushing past him toward the near crest of the rise. She temporarily forgot her unease at having him at her back in her desire to get a better look. Even that was quelled by the sight that greeted both of them at the top of what they had mistaken for a hill. It was actually the outer edge of an impact crater. All that remained of the Ravinok sat at the center, looking small and broken. Her heart sank. Was this Lorit's final resting place? If so, it was a sorry end for such a good friend. Glancing at Dukat, she immediately started down the other side. There was only one way to find out.