HARSH REALITIES
It will be glaringly obvious that this is an AU.
Strictly speaking, this is not exactly a sequel to my story, “Of The Highest Order,” but that one must be read before this one. One might think of this story as one possible outcome which could ensue from several but not all of the universes in which the other story functioned as a predecessor.
“Harsh Realities” was inspired by the following series
quotes.
A Time To Stand.
“…Eradicate (Earth’s) population.” – Weyoun.
“You can’t do that.” – Gul Dukat.
“Why not?”
“Because a true victory is to make your enemies see they
were wrong to oppose you in the first place!”
Sacrifice Of Angels.
“Dad! Grandpa!” Jake Sisko ran into their welcoming arms.
Following a brief but heartfelt group hug, Benjamin Sisko raised his head and regarded Gul Dukat over his own father’s shoulder. “It was decent of you to return my son in person.”
“Not at all.” The Cardassian nodded graciously. “I was pleased to come and see you personally anyway, now that we have been given control of Earth.”
Joseph Sisko observed Dukat, Damar, and their numerous armed guards. “So you’re Cardassians. Well, from what Ben has told me, I’d rather have you in charge around here than the Jem’Hadar.”
“I’m glad to hear that Benjamin has been at least somewhat complimentary in his description.” Dukat smiled amiably. Then he glanced behind him, and past the guards. “Nerys, attend me.”
The Bajoran came forward sullenly, and Sisko noticed immediately that she seemed withdrawn and incapable of meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Kira, are you all right?”
Dukat broke in, “You’ll have to forgive the former major, Benjamin; she is not yet entirely comfortable with the role to which I’ve assigned her in my entourage.”
“‘Comfortable!’” snarled the volatile woman venomously. “I’ll never be ‘comfortable,’ nor ‘used to it,’ nor will I ever truly accept it!”
“Enough, Kira,” ordered Damar. “You know what will happen – again – if you protest further.”
Her gaze instantly dropped to the floor, and she subsided, to Sisko’s stunned amazement.
Dukat went on, “Of course, when I’d heard that the few surviving Federation ships had been ordered back to Earth and grounded, I had hoped to find you and your crew among those rare survivors. I am pleased to see that your intrepid group has not only lived through this epic conflict, but that you’re even all here together in this room. And now I have a surprise for you.” He motioned behind him once again, and who should emerge from his crowd but Garak. This drew the gaze of all of Sisko’s crewmembers.
“Garak!” Bashir took an eager step forward. “Are you all right?”
“Just fine, my dear doctor. And we have much to discuss. I’ve been reinstated. We’ll have to have lunch soon, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Bashir nodded with a faint smile, albeit also with a slightly wary glance at Garak’s companions.
“Are you all right?” the elder Sisko demanded of Jake, whom he still clutched tightly.
“I’m okay, Grandpa. But I guess that you and Dad are mad at me for deciding to stay behind without telling you.”
The youngster’s father answered. “We were, though now we’re just relieved that you’re safe.” Then he turned back to Dukat. “Thank you for keeping the word that you gave me long ago, about never harming him.”
Dukat nodded shortly, but then ruefully said, “Your son did not make it easy, however.”
“Jake???”
“I got into a little bit of trouble, Dad.”
“A little?” Damar questioned skeptically, as the former DS9 commander grew visibly alarmed. “I had to lock him up, as part of a resistance group aboard the station. We did not harm him, though.”
“Jake, how could you get involved in something like that??”
“Sorry, Dad. It was a way of keeping my ear to the ground, of keeping informed and involved.”
“This isn’t a game, Jake!”
“I realize that now, Dad. I’m sorry.”
“He could’ve been a lot sorrier,” Damar spoke up again. “We executed Rom for sabotage, and Quark for trying to break them all out of the holding cells.”
Sisko hugged his son tighter than ever, urgently.
“Worry not,” Dukat assured them both. “The boy’s offenses were quite minor; we’re officially releasing him to you; we’ll take no additional action against him. And we’re dealing with Kira and Leeta quite differently from the way that we dealt with the Ferengi.”
Only then did Sisko and his crew notice a very subdued, downcast Leeta all but hidden behind Damar. As they stared, the legate reached back and carelessly pulled her to his side. Apparently easily able to guess how the Bajoran women were being “dealt with,” O’Brien looked positively nauseated.
Transparently anxious to change the subject, the eldest Sisko invited, “Well, a couple of you mentioned having lunch, and this is, after all, a restaurant. I don’t suppose that you Cardassians and Bajorans have ever tried jambalaya? I thought not. Well, there’s plenty, and plenty of room, since the regular lunch crowd has left. Shall I serve? Good.”
“I’ll help, Grandpa,” Jake said, as others began to take seats.
Ben Sisko moved to assist as well. On his way to the kitchen, he bleakly observed that Kira was required to sit by Dukat, and that Leeta was forced to remain at Damar’s side. If his former first officer’s spirit was not broken by what, to her, would be devastating disgrace, it must certainly be close.
By contrast, Bashir seemed more or less pleased to join Garak; Sisko could easily imagine that any hesitation was due to the uncertainty of just what their relationship would be like now, under this new regime.
For quite a while, the luncheon proceeded placidly enough, no doubt at least partially due to the heavy distribution of armed Cardassian guards stationed watchfully all around the interior perimeter of the establishment. Their military presence was a stark contrast to the restaurant’s cozy atmosphere.
Suddenly, Bashir’s volume rose. “What do you mean that you personally carried out the executions of Quark and Rom???”
“Now, Doctor, surely you realized that that sort of thing was always part of my function on Terok Nor.”
The human was partially out of his chair. “Now you listen…!”
Garak caught the soft mammalian arm in an iron grip, and his voice was steely. “No, you listen! And sit back down at once, while you do.”
Hearing a tone that he’d never heard before from the erstwhile “tailor,” Bashir obeyed.
From across the room, Dukat and Damar nodded approvingly.
Sisko’s heart sank. He’d already known that they were beaten, but somehow, this localized personal display brought it all home to him better than any generalized newscasts could do. Furthermore, they’d all received strict directives from Starfleet not to antagonize the Cardassians, who were all that stood between the humans and total obliteration at the hands of the Dominion.
“Benjamin,” Dukat called. “Join us.” It was equal parts invitation and command, but Sisko didn’t allow himself to feel resentful, as he was indeed interested in conversing with the new Prefect of Earth.
The human former commander sat. “I appreciate your having interceded on our behalf, instead of letting the Dominion slaughter us.”
Dukat nodded. “The Dominion is a powerful ally.” He looked rueful. “But in regard to finesse, it lacks a great deal. Humans have much to offer, once tamed, just as the Bajorans do. It would be an extravagant waste to exterminate either of you. What would we gain? Just two more habitable planets, and those abound in the galaxy. But your two species are irreplaceable.”
Sisko tried not to stare at Kira and Leeta, who were struggling to conceal from Dukat their burning hatred at his words. They kept their eyes on their plates and picked at their food.
Damar said, “Dukat and I demanded the Earth assignment. Gul Evek and Gul Madred have inherited the Bajoran position. They’ll run a tight operation, and keep those belligerents under control. They’ll be far less lenient and merciful than Dukat and I were.”
Kira and Leeta clearly seethed, but did not quite directly glare at Damar for that pronouncement.
Meanwhile, Dukat had noticed Sisko’s occasional glances toward Bashir and Garak, at their table across the room. “You needn’t worry about your doctor, Benjamin; I believe that Garak has him well in hand.”
Sisko couldn’t quite banish a bitter tone. “Let me guess: Quark and Rom didn’t exactly die quick, merciful deaths.”
“You’re a good guesser, Benjamin, and I suspect that you’ll sleep better if spared the details.”
Sisko’s jaw clenched and his teeth ground, but he said nothing.
Another Cardassian approached just then, also in a gul’s uniform.
Dukat addressed him. “Lemec, your report.”
“The city is secured. All is tranquil. Similar reports are coming in from all over the planet. The humans are being wise enough, at last, to offer little or no resistance.”
Sisko broke in, “That’s because we were so ordered by Starfleet Command and the Federation Council.”
Lemec grinned: a truly frightening sight, a rictus grin as of a skull. “That’s because here at the last possible moment, you humans finally realize that being dominated by a superior species is better than extinction.”
Sisko’s fists white-knuckled on either side of his untouched plate, but he made no reply.
Probably to bail-out his father before he could say something unwise, Jake addressed the gloating newcomer timidly, “If you would like to choose a seat, sir, I can serve you.”
Lemec again offered his frightful grin at the youngster’s subservient manner, surveyed the room, and chose the only table inhabited exclusively by humans. O’Brien bristled visibly at having one of the reptilians join him and his family, and Keiko looked apprehensive at her husband’s reaction. Evidently deciding sensibly not to endanger her and his children, as well as himself, O’Brien dropped his eyes back to his plate and made no comment. Sisko shifted in his seat in relief, and then looked up to see Dukat and Damar regarding him in slight amusement.
Sisko lowered his voice to a whisper, “If I am a good guesser, I’m going to guess that that one will be a lot harder to get along with than you two and Garak.”
Dukat nodded. “Once again your instincts are correct. We two and Garak are not generally so sadistic as to intentionally provoke incidents merely for the purpose of indulging our species’ pleasure in inflicting pain. Gul Lemec, as well as Gul Madred at Bajor, are.”
“Please: you’re in charge here: control him!”
“As best I can.” Dukat nodded agreeably. “But of course I cannot watch him every moment. Your people must remain meek in order to stay safe.”
Sisko nodded. “Then you and I have a problem in common. I can’t keep an eye on my people all of the time, either. I hope that they won’t endanger themselves in trivial disputes or useless gestures, but how can I guarantee it?”
“Exactly,” the Prefect agreed.
“I appreciate your understanding. Please be as lenient as you can be with minor mistakes such as Bashir’s a moment ago, while we all readjust to a very different lifestyle from that to which we’re accustomed.”
Dukat smiled graciously at his deference. “I will do my very best, Benjamin.”
A few days later, when it was O’Brien’s turn to be shepherded to what the Cardassians were insisting upon calling “debriefing,” after the familiar Starfleet term, he sat in the back seat of the aircar and concentrated on not shaking. Garak sat beside him, ostensibly to act as a consoling presence, but the Irishman remained unsure of whether he saw the highly unpredictable mystery-man as a comfort or as an additional danger.
“You don’t like this one bit, do you?” Garak broke into his thoughts with exaggeratedly cheerful, forced sympathy.
“I just don’t know what to expect. I know that you-all keep insisting that this will be a ‘harmless’ information-seeking session, but then why the separation?”
“So that you cannot influence each other’s reports, naturally,” Dukat offered from the front seat.
“Well then why not just a separate room at the Siskos’ place?”
“To eliminate distractions,” put in Damar from beside Dukat.
O’Brien snorted.
The legate teased, “From your attitude, Chief, anyone might think that you didn’t entirely trust us.”
The human’s jaw went slack with disbelief. Garak saw it and chuckled, and then reassured him, “Relax, Chief. I’ll be with you every moment.”
“Now why do I have trouble figuring out whether that’s good or bad?”
Dukat and Damar expressed their own amusement at that, and the former tailor grinned tolerantly, unoffended.
“Are you going to…strip me???” O’Brien clearly both needed and dreaded the answer. He just as obviously wanted to avoid a repeat of that humiliating aspect of his former trauma on Cardassia Prime.
“Only if you make it necessary for us to be rough with you,” Garak responded.
“It won’t be necessary,” O’Brien assured him.
The Prefect of Earth reminded him, “Remember, Sisko and Bashir were returned to the rest of you unharmed after their sessions.”
O’Brien couldn’t stop himself from mumbling, “They weren’t at Setlek 3, nor were they dragged to a Cardassian Tribunal on trumped-up charges.”
Garak regarded him askance.
He blurted additionally, “And Garak, Julian’s your best friend, and Dukat, you and Sisko have long been weirdly chummy, but whom have I got?”
Damar turned in his seat, and facetiously blew the Irishman a kiss.
With a lopsided, semi-sick expression, O’Brien sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“We’ll be there in just a few more moments,” Dukat informed him.
“Do you three very-important-officials personally escort every single former Starfleet operative to this??”
“So few of you survived, that we could,” quipped Damar. He ignored O’Brien’s resulting profanity. “But no, many others of various ranks are involved in this task; we three are granting only you of Sisko’s crew this privilege, because we know you so well.”
“So, you’re doing it as a courtesy, because we’re ‘special’ to you, or because your familiarity with us will make it easier for you to ‘read us well,’ and see through any potential deception?”
“Both, actually,” replied Dukat.
“Very astute,” Garak complimented the human, just as Damar said, “This is it.”
O’Brien kept his opinion to himself, but if the Cardassians had instead been Vulcans or Betazoids, they would have read his “It figures” thoughts regarding the choice of such a big, dark, looming building having been usurped as their headquarters here on Earth. The vast number of Cardassian soldiers patrolling all around it also contributed to its foreboding appearance.
Amid his escorts, the human plodded hopelessly through the corridors in a plausible imitation of a prisoner on his way to execution, all but oblivious to the tolerantly amused smiles of his companions. But the joke was on them upon reaching the small office that served as their specific destination.
O’Brien’s head rose abruptly at the sight of the man behind the front office desk. “I know you!”
The apparent “receptionist” eyed him as well. “Yes, you are familiar to me also.”
“Glinn Daro, isn’t it?”
“And…Chief O’Brien?”
As the Cardassian receptionist rose, the relieved human eagerly clasped his reptilian hand in a warm greeting.
Staring at the human’s obvious pleasure at the reunion, Garak remarked, “You never told me that you ever had any Cardassian friends.”
“You never asked me.”
Garak blinked.
“And really, it’s been such a long time…years. Plus, I don’t know that we were together for enough time to qualify for the word ‘friends.’ But I do know that, however briefly, we…connected.” He turned back to the glinn. “It’s truly good to see you. Will you be present for my…questioning?”
“I can be.”
“I’d like you to be.”
Daro regarded Dukat and the others for their consent. They readily gave it.
Garak remarked, “I’d like to get to know a Cardassian that this particular human trusts and could call even an almost-friend.”
The glinn smiled benevolently and said, “Come on, almost-friend. I’ll see to it that we get you through this formality smoothly and comfortably.”
O’Brien looked nearly happy enough to cry, and his three celebrity-escorts exchanged fascinated, quizzical expressions.
The interview did indeed proceed smoothly. The three Cardassian leaders watched, amazed and amused, as Glinn Daro all but held O’Brien’s hand, and O’Brien all but let him.
The only awkward moment was when the engineer in him got the better of O’Brien, and he pointed to a contraption in the corner, and asked, “What’s that gizmo?”
Daro managed to look simultaneously both reluctant and sympathetic, as he explained, “Not something that you need to worry about; it’s used only with those who refuse to cooperate.”
O’Brien looked sick as Garak flashed him a crooked smile, and Dukat and Damar exchanged mild grins.
Daro patted the human’s arm. “You’re doing fine.”
At the conclusion of the session, Glinn Daro was invited back to “Sisko’s” with them, ordered actually, by the three consumed-with-curiosity officials. This crowded the back seat of the aircar considerably, squashing O’Brien between Garak and Daro, but the human minded not at all, and he and Daro chattered like happy magpies the whole way back, much to the continued amusement of the three mystified leaders, who barely managed to wedge-in basic questions regarding where and how the two had met.
Upon entering the after-hours restaurant, O’Brien all but dragged Daro to Bashir, tugging him by an arm, like a schoolboy anxious to introduce his new buddy to his parents.
“Julian! Remember that I told you that, back while I was on the Enterprise, I met a really nice Cardassian??? Well, here he is!”
Dukat was sarcastic. “Gee. A nice Cardassian. Fancy that.”
Garak folded his arms and leaned against a table. “I didn’t know that there were any nice ones.”
“Aren’t they all extinct?” Damar deadpanned.
Impatiently, O’Brien said, “Aw come on, you guys; you know what I mean!”
As for Bashir, he smiled in genuine delight for what was, in O’Brien, an unexpected sign of personal growth, even a nearly impossible stretch. He gladly sat with the two and got acquainted, and heard all about the Enterprise joint mission with Gul Macet, Glinn Daro, and another underling, in pursuit of a renegade Starfleet captain, under whom O’Brien had formerly served, whose bitterness and paranoia had driven him to seek and destroy Cardassian ships at random. Their growing audience heard all about it as well, since old-home-week between the Irishman and a Cardassian was a heretofore unheard-of event.
Presently, Glinn Daro asked, “Whatever became of that captain…Maxwell, was it?”
O’Brien nodded. “Benjamin Maxwell. He was incarcerated, of course. Last I heard he was still in therapy.”
Daro shook his head sorrowfully. “Another casualty of our two species’ inability to get along with each other.”
Damar’s expression was skeptical. “The man was hardly a victim, from what you’ve said. He was a mass-murderer of our people.”
O’Brien snapped, “He was a victim first! His entire family was wiped out by your people at Setlek 3!”
Perhaps to prevent conflict, Dukat commented innocuously, “Benjamin Maxwell, uh? Then you’ve served under two Benjamins.”
The one named Sisko looked up with a short, acknowledging nod from across the room where he was playing the piano.
O’Brien, now in sync with Dukat’s intentions, was nodding. “Two Benjamins and a Jean-Luc.” At Garak’s blank look, the blond added, “Picard.”
At the mention of that name, from not far away, Gul Lemec favored the humans with a particularly nasty sneer, and said, “Ah yes, Picard! My colleague Gul Madred had such fun with your Captain Picard!”
O’Brien glared murderously at him in response. “He was an inspired captain! And he deserved better than what your savage ‘colleague’ did to him!!”
Gul Lemec swaggered over to their table. He regarded Glinn Daro. “And what did you do to earn this human’s special favor? I found him less than hospitable when I shared his lunch table our first day here.”
Daro answered literally, “We shared drinks in the Ten-Forward lounge of his Enterprise, and mourned the series of troubles and misunderstandings between our two respective cultures.”
“You’re breaking my heart with such a sad recitation. And speaking of breaking, did you break this human when you interrogated him today?”
“It wasn’t necessary. He was fully cooperative, like his shipmates were before him, and like they were ordered to be by their Starfleet.”
“What a pity! Then, you didn’t get a chance to use The Device on him?”
O’Brien tensed. Daro told him, “That item that you noticed in the corner of the room.” To Lemec, he said, “It hasn’t been needed with any of them.”
“How dull.” Lemec, now bored, sauntered away casually.
Bashir looked up at Garak. “‘The Device?’ What’s…?”
“Don’t ask!” O’Brien blurted. At several raised pairs of brows and brow ridges around him, he added, “I don’t know, either, but don’t ask anyway!”
Dukat, Damar, and Garak smiled with gentle humor, but Lemec, overhearing again, laughed cruelly. He turned back toward them once more. “Do you mean to say that you missed even hearing about the diabolically inventive gadget that you glimpsed today? Why it’s one of our proudest achievements!”
“Don’t do it, Lemec,” said Garak. “Just let it go.” He glanced semi-worriedly at Bashir, clearly unwilling to expose his still semi-innocent friend to one of his species’ most depraved, sadistic creations.
Bashir and O’Brien exchanged blank-faced blinks.
“You don’t outrank me.” Gul Lemec looked Garak over condescendingly. “And your pompous Obsidian Order no longer even exists.” He returned his regard to the humans sitting at the table with Glinn Daro. “Wouldn’t you like for me to unravel the mystery for you? Can’t I pull in your interest with its beautifully vile reality? I can see that I just yank in your attention and your gaze with this mesmerizingly hideous subject!”
O’Brien was wide-eyed and frightened, without even truly knowing why. He knew only that he was undeniably on the threshold of a discovery that could potentially make it impossible for him to sleep peacefully for quite some time to come. He saw his own feelings clearly mirrored in the eyes of Bashir across from him.
“Shut him up, Dukat,” Garak urged.
“I don’t know.” The Prefect looked pensive. “Likely they’d be even easier to control, if they knew the specifics of what they’d face if they defied us.”
“They won’t defy us! Haven’t they been as placid as herbivores ever since we got here? Give them the benefit of the doubt. Leave them in peace. Spare them this.”
Lemec continued to taunt, “Don’t my words just tug irresistibly on your curiosity?”
Bashir swallowed hard. “Obviously loaded words, those ones that he keeps emphasizing.”
“Yeah,” O’Brien agreed. “And I’m trying very hard not to think about what they might be loaded with.”
“Let’s go to another room,” suggested a very concerned Glinn Daro, rising.
“Sit down!” Lemec oozed contempt. “I very much outrank you, Glinn! A mere glinn, and you will obey me!”
Daro sat, but most unhappily.
Lemec bent at the waist until his face filled Bashir’s vision, and he challenged, “You tell me, Doctor! As a doctor, you are well-equipped to decipher it: what could be tugged and yanked and pulled and unraveled??”
Automatically, without even thinking, the brunette human blurted, “The intestines.”
“Very good, Doctor! You win the prize!”
Bashir’s near-vacant eyes rose to Lemec’s. “You…mean…you…pull them out…of the body?”
The sadistic, sentient carnivore graced the human with a dazzlingly vicious smile.
O’Brien muttered his famous line softly, “Bloody hell.”
Lemec grinned ferally. “A bloody helluva mess, you can be sure!”
“Julian, I’m going to be sick,” O’Brien announced with certainty.
Bashir half rose from his chair. He fixed Dukat with his gaze, and asked persuasively, “Let us go.”
The latter nodded semi-benevolently, and the doctor hastily escorted his patient from the room. A somber Garak and a crestfallen Daro watched them leave. Dukat and Damar observed the retreat thoughtfully. Only Lemec was laughing.
“Are you two all right?” Garak asked in tender concern as the Cardassians arrived for breakfast the next morning.
Bashir and O’Brien observed him gloomily, listlessly, from where they sat.
O’Brien plaintively managed to ask, “I have a question. I’m just not sure if I have the gumption, or the courage, to ask it.”
“You may as well, Chief,” Garak replied fatalistically. “We both know that, whatever it is, it will torment you until you do.”
The Irishman nodded slowly. “Well, about that…gizmo. Do you mean that if I…hadn’t cooperated yesterday…you…would’ve…?”
Garak hastened, “Not necessarily. That particularly nasty gimmick is a last resort, not a first recourse.”
“Well, at least now you finally know!” Dukat said enigmatically.
“‘Finally?’” O’Brien echoed miserably. “What do you mean, ‘finally’? It’s been less than a day since I saw the damned thing.”
Dukat feigned astonishment. “Why, didn’t you realize?? ‘The Device’ that you just learned of: that’s our big secret! That’s what we did to Sloan!!”
Garak hissed at the Prefect.
Bashir and O’Brien both lost all color.
Daro looked on uncomprehendingly in consternation, not even knowing who Sloan was.
Damar watched them all, arms folded, smiling crookedly.
Dukat leaned toward the two humans, to forcibly hold their attention. “That’s what compelled Sloan to yield, and tell us all about Section 31. He held out against us, even as we lasered off each appendage, one by one, cauterizing as we went. Fingers, toes, hands, feet, arms, legs, …and others.” He grinned gruesomely. “But Sloan was finally ready to tell us absolutely anything, …if only we would just…stop…pulling….”
“Stop it!!!” Bashir’s cry was agonized. His vivid imagination was going overtime again, multiplying the torment that Dukat was delivering.
“Yes! That’s what Sloan kept yelling.”
O’Brien was no better off, saying, “Now I think that we’ll both be sick!”
“And you should have seen Garak’s skill! He doesn’t just pull; oh no, he has a rare talent for twisting and squeezing and pinching as he yanks!”
“Damn you!” Garak was furious with Dukat, despite their new alliance, and despite Dukat’s superior rank.
The Prefect ignored his compatriot, and delivered his piece de resistance. “And just think, Bashir; you gave us Sloan; you made it all possible!”
Even when Garak knocked Dukat to the floor, the latter continued to grin. And the damage was done.
Bashir backed away slightly, when later Garak entered the private room.
“Don’t be afraid of me. I don’t want you to be.”
“That might be impossible to avoid now.”
“You may as well go on now and tell us the rest,” O’Brien said dully.
“What…rest??”
“How does that…thing that I saw…do it?”
“Oh. A long slender rod is inserted, through the abdomen. A button is pressed. A hook is extruded from the bottom of the rod. It hooks around an intestinal loop. We just pull.”
“Up and out of the body???”
“Up and out, ripping flesh around the insertion hole.”
“Who could invent such a damned thing??”
“Tain.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Protect us from this.” Bashir stated it flatly as a demand. Somehow Garak and O’Brien both instinctively knew that a solemn promise of that protection was the only thing that could preserve the human doctor’s friendship with the Cardassian.
“You know that I will.” Garak made the vow willingly, without reservation or need of coercion. “With my life.”
Bashir relaxed ever so slightly and forced a faint, half-hearted smile. O’Brien sagged with relief where he sat.
After some moments of more comfortable silence, O’Brien muttered glumly, “Well, at least now we understand why Dr. Garani was so eager to avoid you for a while, Garak, after that autopsy.”
Bashir was slightly frowning again. “Is it true, what Dukat said about you, Garak, that you were unnecessarily vicious about the technique, with Sloan?”
“I believe that what Dukat said was that I was exceptionally talented in the technique, my dear Julian.” Garak sounded only slightly defensive.
“A ghoulish talent, to be sure.”
“I never denied that.”
“And you allowed yourself to…enjoy that, …and to exhibit genuine sadism to…poor Sloan.”
“‘Poor Sloan???’” Garak evidently could scarcely believe that he’d heard correctly. “This from the man who was endlessly tormented by that jackal….” Suddenly Garak recalled and quoted Bashir’s exact words. “That ‘thorn in your side, the nasty, sonofabitch agent who kept popping into your bedroom in the middle of the night.’”
“All right, I remember what I said. But no one, not even Sloan, deserved what you did to him.”
“Oh come now, Doctor. None of your sanctimonious speeches, if you please. Let’s not forget what Section 31 was: a blight on the Federation, you called it, something that could endanger the peace of the galaxy. And any diabolical cruelty that you care to imagine was in Sloan’s repertoire as well; he had used such methods whenever he had deemed them necessary, and on whomever he had deemed it necessary. You should’ve heard what he wanted to do to you for turning him over to us, if he could just have gotten free of us and gotten hold of you.”
“Perhaps I would’ve deserved it,” Bashir spoke woodenly.
“Perhaps you would like a demonstration.” Garak grew increasingly affronted.
“Perhaps you’re evil enough to arrange one!”
“Perhaps I shall shock you by doing so!”
“Trouble in paradise, gentlemen?” Dukat asked from the doorway, as he observed the two who were, by now, leaning their fists on the bed from opposite sides of it, and glaring nose-to-nose at each other across it. O’Brien sat in a nearby chair, looking too morose to even try to interfere, or maybe he just realized that they both needed to vent.
“You!” Bashir made it sound like an accusation all by itself, as he straightened and glared at the newcomer.
Dukat slowly entered. He commented, “You haven’t given me that kind of look in a long time. At least you know now how easy you had it, with us. You received nary a modicum of what we’re capable of doing. You now know what happened to Sloan, while you merely…got your widdle fingers broken.” He tsked in feigned pity.
Between the sarcasm and the “baby talk” mockery, Bashir colored in fury.
“Oh jeez.” O’Brien cradled his weary face in his hands at the uncomfortable reference to Bashir’s much earlier torture at Garak’s and Dukat’s hands. The utterance and movement drew Dukat’s attention.
“While you, engineer, weren’t even touched. You narrowly escaped being castrated by us, as you know.”
The blond moaned at the reminder of what would’ve been his “ideal torture.”
“Well, thank you for such lovely pronouncements.” Bashir’s tone dripped with contempt. He glanced icily between Garak’s dangerous-looking rage and Dukat’s dispassionate frigidity, visibly defying them, silently taunting them.
O’Brien whispered urgently, “Julian!! What are you doing???”
At that moment, Damar strolled in carrying a narrow rod that glinted silver in the light. “I could hear you all the way out there. Any need for this?” He casually tossed it, and Garak skillfully, effortlessly snatched it from the air. Then the latter stood staring at Bashir, his eyes glittering to match the implement, which he began to tap rhythmically against his palm.
Bashir barely stifled a gulp, and he hesitantly asked O’Brien, “Miles, …is that…it???”
“Oh, Christ,” was all that the blond said, or needed to say, in confirmation, at the sight of it.
The brunette moved slowly, not-too-sure-footedly backward, and reminded Garak in a small voice, “A few moments ago, I got you to promise never to use that on me.”
Garak’s tone was taut and his eyes were steel. “And even more recently, you dared me to do so,” he reminded relentlessly, as he continued to strike a beat with it just as unyieldingly. Agonizingly slowly, he approached the defenseless human.
Dukat moved closer as well, his eyes also glistening. He could hardly resist the opportunity that the human’s ill-advised temper had laid in his lap. Just because Dukat had more discipline than the typical Cardassian regarding yielding to the temptation of indulging in one of their species’ favorite sadistic sports, did not mean that he was endlessly resistant to it, if a potential victim was reckless enough to goad him.
Now, Bashir’s back was up against the wall, both literally and figuratively.
O’Brien’s voice was barely above a murmur, “Julian, what have you done??? Garak, for godsakes, stop!!! You’ll kill him!!!”
In one more desperate attempt at bravado, Bashir challenged Garak, “You’re bluffing.”
Garak’s head lowered menacingly; his eyes widened and gleamed now with a light of their own; and he smiled an unearthly smile of purest malevolence. Bashir was somehow sure that there existed a few select others who had previously witnessed such a smile on the face of his friend the torture expert, but he, Bashir, emphatically had not, and he felt as if an Arctic tornadic wind had just blown right through him. He was instinctively, eerily certain that none of those relatively rare others had lived long after witnessing such a blood-freezing sight.
Dukat’s laugh was as chilling, in its way, as Garak’s expression, and the Prefect said, “Such bravura in your words. And such excruciating terror in your eyes. We’re not fooled. And even if we didn’t see your graphic fright in your face, look what your hands are doing.”
Bashir honestly didn’t know. He numbly, near-stupidly looked down to see what Dukat meant. Both human hands were pressing protectively against his lower abdomen, as if holding in his intestines, as if they would fall out instantly upon his hands’ release. Bleakly he looked back up at their faces in a weird, wordless combination of shame and panic.
Dukat laughed again, and remarked, “Well, at least this time you’re not hiding your hands behind your back.”
Garak laughed just as zestfully cruelly, holding nothing back, as if released from his artificial benevolence toward his human friend by that same human’s own folly.
“Help!! Captain Sisko, help!!!” O’Brien cried.
Damar’s head whipped toward the blond like a striking snake, and speared the human to silence with a look. O’Brien went sheet-white, and as the moments ticked by, it became obvious that his cry had gone unheard.
So numb with fright that he might’ve had anesthetized vocal cords inhibiting his speech, O’Brien whispered, exaggeratedly humbly, “Please, Gul Dukat, sir: I heard you promise Sisko that first day to try to protect us from our own foolishness while we adjust to a completely new lifestyle. Please do try: even when the folly is as gargantuanly stupid as this one of Julian’s.”
Unmoved, Dukat replied, “That commitment applies only when the foolish human actually wishes to be spared. I don’t know why Bashir continues to goad us, nor do I care.”
Bashir finally gave up his totally ineffectual pretense at nonchalance and courage. He surrendered to the trembling that he’d barely held at bay, and it took over him, like a violent, visible earthquake. He sagged halfway down the wall.
“On your knees, human,” Damar instructed.
The brunette obeyed instantly, giving the distinct impression that he would soon have ended up in that position anyway, with or without Damar’s command, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. It was a lazy flop of a genuflection, but it sufficed. His head drooped until his chin touched his chest. Although that position concealed his face, a telltale small sound emanated.
“Look at me,” Garak ordered.
Bashir obeyed promptly, and the Cardassians were startled at how quickly a human face could be utterly drenched in tears. The droplets streamed and dripped and flowed and flooded.
“No. Please. Mercy.” Bashir’s voice was almost inaudible.
Garak’s tone was firm. “If I relent, it will only be because this torture would absolutely kill you; there is no other possible outcome. And I still don’t want you killed, …even if you have earned it.”
The human went the rest of the way to the floor in a heap, and lay shaking and sobbing, and curled protectively around his midsection.
It took a long time for the Cardassians to turn and leave, an agonizing time for the watching O’Brien, but they finally did.
“Julian, why did you do that???”
“I don’t know,” he murmured listlessly. “I guess that I wanted to make Garak prove that he wouldn’t.” He lay flat on his back on the bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling.
“Instead, you almost made him prove that he would.”
“Yeah.” Bashir’s tone was hopeless.
By contrast, O’Brien sounded exasperated. “Well what did you expect?? Julian, he’s a trained killer, and essentially a merciless one. However fond of you he is, that can’t change who he is.”
“I s’pose.”
“Face it: you were an obstinate fool.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but…jeez! And to do it in front of Dukat and Damar yet…! Have you already forgotten what happened to you in that cave???? Or have you developed a death wish???”
“All right, Miles, all right. Let it go, okay?”
Sisko surveyed the restaurant at dinner that evening. “Where are O’Brien and Bashir?” Peripherally, he noted that Dukat, Damar, and Garak seemed unnaturally interested in the answer to his question as well.
Jake paused on the way to the kitchen with dish in hand. “They said that they weren’t feeling well, so I took them plates in Dr. Bashir’s room.”
Benjamin Sisko quizzically observed the knowing looks that passed among those same three Cardassians at his son’s response.
Garak later visited Bashir’s room alone, to check on the two humans. He saw two empty plates on the table; O’Brien’s head down on that same table, cushioned by one arm, the other arm hanging limply toward the floor; and Bashir stretched out flat on his back on the bed, eyes closed, and motionless. The Cardassian planted both fists on his hips, and asked sharply, “Are you proud of yourself, Doctor?”
Both humans started at the sudden sound.
Bashir propped up on his elbows and regarded Garak bleary-eyed. “I’m not very proud of either of us.”
“What did I do??”
“I tested you. You failed.”
“You deliberately provoked me!”
“You swore that you wouldn’t do that to me.”
“I didn’t expect that you’d try to goad me into it! And in front of Dukat and Damar yet! Just because your relationship with them has improved since you got your fingers broken, does not mean that Dukat has stopped being the man who broke them!”
“And you. You broke half of them, too.”
“Julian…!”
“And you wanted to hurt me today. I saw it in your eyes.”
“You seemed to want me to hurt you! You aroused the Cardassian sadist in me. And then when you saw him, you didn’t like him very much. Next time, don’t awaken him in the first place.”
Bashir sat up on the bed. “Well, maybe I realized that I needed to confront him, too, as well as you.”
Garak scoffed, “You talk as if I were truly two people, as though I were schizophrenic.”
“In a way.” Bashir annoyed Garak further by not denying it. “Every individual is a product of his two parents, and no person could have had two more opposite parents than you. Tain and Mila are both within you. You’ve always chosen to be the ‘Mila’ persona with me. Perhaps I’ve been insufficiently wary of the ‘Tain’ part of you. Perhaps I just needed to be assured that he wouldn’t do this to me, either. No matter what.”
Nastily mimicking the human’s tone and manner of speech, Garak retorted, “And perhaps you instead have been assured that he would.”
Bashir nodded mutely, and then said in a hushed voice, “And perhaps that unsettles me more than I can bear.”
Garak’s eyes narrowed calculatingly for a long moment, before he spoke. “And exactly what am I to deduce from that? That you no longer wish to associate with me? That you must test me again, until I prove to you that which may be unprovable, or even incorrect? Or that you hope that I will console and cajole, and lull you into a warm-and-fuzzy comfortably-mammalian haze of security??” The reptilian made no effort to conceal the derision evident in his last sentence.
“I don’t know.” Bashir’s entire demeanor was uncharacteristically subdued. “One of those, surely. Remember, you warned me, yourself, when I saved you from death caused by that ‘wire’ in your head. You told me that I didn’t really know the type of person that I was trying to save.”
“And you now regret having saved me?”
“No. But you were right that I never really knew you. I suppose that I still don’t.”
“Then you haven’t been paying attention. As I’ve told you before, the clues have been scattered in front of you like crumbs on a table.”
“And I guess that I don’t much like the cookie from which they crumbled.” Bashir ran a tired hand through his hair. “Garak, we had an argument, simply an argument. Miles and I have them all the time, but we don’t threaten to hurt each other, let alone kill each other! But you threatened me, and right in front of those from whom you’d previously protected me, knowing what they might do to me!”
Bitingly, Garak retorted, “Well, maybe we Cardassians are just too uncivilized for you evolved, elite humans.”
The brunette didn’t bother to contradict him. “Maybe so.”
“Oh no,” O’Brien muttered.
Focused as he was on Garak’s evident rage, Bashir hadn’t seen what O’Brien had. So he was distracted by the blond’s utterance, and startled by Dukat’s voice.
“I had a feeling that this issue was far from resolved, with you two.”
With an inarticulate, disgusted sound, Bashir dropped himself backward again on the bed. But just as instantly, O’Brien was out of his chair, clearly trying to bolt for help. Unsurprised, Dukat casually aimed and stunned him. At that, Bashir indignantly, abruptly sat back up, but whether to protest or to also try to flee no one ever knew, because Damar was quicker, and he knocked the doctor back down prone yet again, shoving a cold, metal rod against his throat to force him into submission. The human could barely even swallow against it, let alone dare to struggle. Only his eyes moved. They observed Damar’s very near, determined face for a moment, and then they tracked downward to see what little they could of the implement that threatened him, and then up again and to the left to meet Garak’s eyes, where the latter stood next to the bed, glaring at him in a way that didn’t inspire hope of reprieve.
Dukat addressed Garak dispassionately, “We offer our assistance.”
“I accept,” Garak responded formally.
Shockingly fast, Damar tossed the rod to Garak, and lifted Bashir by the waist. Dukat seized and dragged down both his trousers and pants simultaneously. Damar dropped him, and yanked up his shirt. With his slacks and briefs around his ankles, and his tunic up high on his chest, cutting into his underarms, Bashir felt rather effectively tied.
Struggling for a calm tone, the human accused, “So Miles was right: you-all are sick perverts after all?”
Unruffled, Dukat explained, “We find it more expedient to bare the area of the body that will be tortured. Believe me, you are better off that way: would you really want to feel your intestines ripping through the fabric as well as through your skin?”
Bashir swallowed hard, and watched as Dukat sat beside him on his right, and withdrew a hypo. “Stimulant,” the Prefect reminded him with a demonic smile, and injected him.
It was difficult to look away from the hypnotic eyes, but Bashir forced himself to do so, when he felt Garak sit on the bed to his left; he shifted his gaze to his “friend.” He had never seen Garak look colder, more uncaring. He watched, wishing to disbelieve, as Garak clinically tested the mechanism by touching a barely-visible button at the top, causing a lethally-sharp wire filament to descend from the bottom end and curl into a hook. Letting Bashir study it for a moment, Garak callously watched him, deliberately frightening him with its appearance – and with his appearance. It worked: the human’s gaze crumpled, and the victim uttered an extremely soft, “No.” Smiling monstrously in triumph, Garak touched the control again; the hook seemed to flow as it was reabsorbed up into the rod. Desperately, Bashir switched his regard to Damar, his eyes silently pleading. What he saw there instantly dashed even that forlorn hope. Now panicking, Bashir’s eyes flashed back again to Garak, just as the latter shocked the warm human skin of his vulnerable tummy with the cold tip of the rod.
“No!!!”
Dukat’s hand clapped roughly over his mouth, silencing him. The Prefect hissed, “We will allow you to continue to speak, to beg, to cry, to bargain, only if you keep your volume to a level that no one but we three will hear. I suspect that you’d rather not be gagged, because then you would lose the only meager hope that you have left of surviving this. I doubt that anything that you can possibly say will convince us to stop, but I’m sure that you’ll want to try. Your choice.” He loosened his grip.
“I’ll be quiet,” Bashir said in an unmistakably teary voice.
“Very well.” The hand was removed.
“Please, Garak! Don’t hurt me!” came out in a whispered whimper, and was cruelly ignored. Bashir then realized that the only way now to reach the Garak who was his friend was to speak to him as he’d spoken to him during a kinder time, years ago, what felt like eons ago. Intentionally employing the exact wording that he’d used as Garak had comforted him after a nightmare long before, Bashir pleaded, “I’m afraid of how much it’ll hurt!”
Dukat and Damar clearly found the remark comical in its too-obvious nature, but Garak instantly recognized the quote, his eyes widening and his expression becoming just a tiny bit gentler.
Voice badly strained by emotion, Bashir coughed, and then yelped slightly as the minor abdominal spasm caused the ultra-sharp point of the rod to nick his flesh. Blood beaded on his exposed abdomen. Fright making him pant, Bashir struggled not to let his stomach rise and fall, and thereby impale himself on the point again. Seeing that, Garak pulled the vile device slightly away to relieve that particular, unintentional physical and psychological pressure. He regarded his friend’s blood sadly.
Instinctively knowing that everything depended on his behavior in the next few moments, Bashir told Garak, “I trust you utterly and completely,” and he extended his trembling right hand to his friend humbly, nonthreateningly.
Even Dukat was impressed by that. “He’s offering you the same hand whose fingers you broke,” he said wonderingly, the symbolism of the gesture unmistakable.
Exquisitely slowly, Garak lifted his own hand up from beneath Bashir’s, and accepted the human’s gift of absolute trust by gently clasping the hand. As Bashir held his breath and lay rigidly unmoving, Garak studied the fragile fingers for a long time, and winced in remembrance of what he’d done to them.
After a long time, Garak looked into the liquid, imploring eyes of the helpless human, and then turned and pitched the evil rod across the room to the floor. Bashir’s expression collapsed in relief as he was lifted and held in strong, caring, Cardassian arms.
Presently becoming uncomfortable now with the state of undress to which they’d forcibly subjected his friend, Garak reached and pulled in a blanket, and belatedly, chastely covered Bashir, and then went back to holding him, even slightly rocking him, his eyes filled with remorse at all of their prior cruelty.
Wrapped up in each other, figuratively and even somewhat literally, the two didn’t even see Dukat and Damar leave, or O’Brien awaken. Only O’Brien saw and marveled at the pleased, slight smiles on the faces of Dukat and Damar as they moved past him. The blond human then smiled softly to himself, looking forward to telling Bashir and Garak about that later – but much later: for now, this was their very special moment.
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