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RITE OF PASSAGE

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            “So,” Garak was saying. “It sounds as if you and Jake Sisko had quite the adventure on that little detour.”

            “You have a talent for understatement,” Bashir agreed. “I would hardly call being trapped in the middle of a Klingon siege an adventure.”

            “Well, at least you both survived it.”

            “In a manner of speaking, but I’m still quite worried about Jake.”

            “But you said that he was uninjured.”

            “Physically. But emotionally he certainly didn’t emerge unscathed. He’s branded himself a coward, and according to Commander Sisko, he’s wallowing in self-recrimination.”

            “He’ll get over it.”

            “I wonder. You know, sometimes I think that human civilization is a bit too soft.”

“You admit that??”

 “In this instance, yes. If we had a tradition like the Vulcans do in their Kahs-wan trial, wherein their youth prove their courage by subsisting alone in the desert, Jake would’ve had a more reasonable opportunity to measure his performance against others of his age, and I suspect that he would’ve acquitted himself well. In fact, Miles told me that the Klingons also have such a tradition, The Rite Of Ascension, although not surprisingly a barbaric one, in which the one tested is assaulted by about a dozen other Klingons with ‘pain-sticks’ of all things; Worf underwent it while they were still on the Enterprise.” He shook his head. “Leave it to the Klingons to choose a form of extreme barbarism as the test. But still, maybe they have the right idea; maybe something is missing from our culture. Maybe Jake would be better off if we humans had a ‘coming of age’ ceremony like the Vulcans or the Klingons.”

            “Or like us,” Garak said pointedly.

            Bashir blinked. “You do?”

            Garak nodded solemnly.

            The human couldn’t suppress a grin. “How did you do?”

            “I passed, as your people say, ‘with flying colors,’ whatever that really means.” Garak was unable to banish smugness from his tone or face.

            “What sort of test was it?”

            Now the Cardassian looked at him just a bit ominously. “I doubt if you really want me to tell you. It involves that subject that you and I both always seem to avoid discussing.” His expression was loaded with meaning.

            “Oh.” Embarrassed and discomfited, the doctor returned his attention to his lunch, and tried not to be too disconcerted at the peripheral sight of his friend favoring him with a look of tolerant, rueful humor.

 

            When Benjamin Sisko entered his quarters at the end of a long day, he saw his son looking even more glum than he’d left him that morning.

            “I received my next assignment from the Federation News Service,” Jake told him gloomily.

            “But that’s good news!” His father offered an encouraging smile.

            “Not so good. I hate the assignment! I can’t do it!”

            “Well, now wait a minute, Jake. Remember, I hated being assigned here to DS9 at first, but I did it, and look how it turned out to be our best posting ever! Besides, you’re new at this; you can’t start turning down assignments this early in your career. Maybe someday you’ll be able to be choosy, but right now….”

            “Dad, I can’t!” He was plainly miserable.

            The commander looked perplexed. “What is it; what’s so terrible?”

            “They want me to interview Garak.”

            “So? What’s so awful about that? He’s a mostly nice guy; I’m sure that he’ll accommodate you.”

            “Dad!!”

            “All right. I’m listening.”

            “They want me to ask really awkward questions, that are none of my business, and that I’m sure he won’t want to discuss! He’ll probably be insulted, too!”

            Now consternation entered his father’s features as well. “Tell me.”

            “The first question is, ‘Is it true that you’re a torture-expert?’”

            “Oh.” Sisko frowned and ran an exasperated hand down his tired face. “I admit that that’s not such a great topic. On the other hand, it’s only natural that the news service would want to inquire about that. I’m afraid that that’s the most difficult, uncomfortable issue between the Cardassians and our people. It’s understandable that the Federation would see Garak as a convenient resource with whom to break the ice on what’s been almost a taboo subject between us. This is probably the first time that any of our people have had sufficiently close ties with any of their people, to allow for such a discussion.”

            “But why me??”

            “You’re likely to be the only on-staff individual who’s on-site in this area of space, and also the only one who’s acquainted with Mr. Garak.” He looked uneasy. “But I’ll admit that I don’t like this, either. You’re awfully young to be getting into such a grisly topic. And shall I assume that the rest of the questions get into specific details about it?”

            A grim nod was his answer.

            Sisko groaned. “Then I definitely don’t like it. But I’d hate to see you fired before you even really get a chance to start. And you are an adult, even if only just barely. Tell you what, Jake: why don’t you consult Dr. Bashir on this?”

            Jake appeared hurt. “You mean, since he’s the only other one besides you who knows that I’m a coward??”

Sisko grimaced. “You’re not a coward! I wish you’d stop saying that. And no, I suggested Dr. Bashir because he’s Garak’s friend, and therefore the most able to predict how Garak will react to this.”

Jake responded with a sigh of misery.

“Get some sleep,” his father advised.

 

“Oh, Jake,” Bashir said doubtfully the next morning. “Garak and I don’t even discuss that. And I hardly believe that he’d be happily receptive.”

Jake sagged. “That’s what I figured that you’d say. Well, I guess that I’m fired. Of course, part of me is relieved; I did not want to talk to Garak about this.”

Bashir watched the poor dejected youth shuffle out of the infirmary.

 

“Have you seen the commander’s son? Is he feeling any better?” Garak inquired politely.

“Worse,” Bashir admitted. “He’s upset about his next reporting assignment.”

“Which is?”

Bashir eyed him. “They want him to interview you.”

“Me???” Garak sat up straighter.

The human regarded him significantly. “About that subject that you and I so neatly sidestepped yet again only yesterday.”

 

Garak entered Quark’s that evening, to see a despondent Jake sitting alone at a table, leaning his chin on his hands which were in turn flat on the tabletop, and staring unseeingly at a full drink that he’d apparently been ignoring for quite some time. Suppressing a smile, he strolled over to him. “Hello, Jake,” he greeted him gently.

Jake started so abruptly that he nearly knocked over the drink. “Oh! Hi.”

Garak could sympathize with the youngster’s shock; the two had never before socialized in any way. “May I?” he asked courteously.

“Um, uh, of course!” Jake stammered, flustered.

Garak sat, and without preamble, stated, “Dr. Bashir told me of your dilemma.”

The boy sank in misery. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed!” He raised his eyes timidly, barely managing to face his unlikely companion. “I think that I might be in the wrong job.”

“I used to think that, too, at times.” He eyed Jake meaningfully. “In my career that is the topic of your article.”

Jake gulped and stared wordlessly, wide-eyed.

Garak continued conversationally. “But I grew into it, and learned to appreciate some aspects of it, and I suspect that you will, too.” At Jake’s look of alarm-bordering-on-panic, Garak added hastily, “In your career as a journalist, I meant.”

“Ohhh!” Jake’s unsteady breathing, coupled with evident graphic self-consciousness at the blatantly embarrassing misinterpretation that he’d obviously placed on the other’s relatively innocent remark, caused Garak to smother another smile.

“Actually, when you think about it, those two careers, yours and mine, are ironically similar, the only significant difference being that you are asking for voluntary information from your subject.”

Jake nodded at the inescapable irony as he slowly calmed.

The Cardassian went on to say, “Of course, as for my career, it’s much more pleasant to be the one asking the questions than the one answering.”

Jake stared anew. “You’ve…been the one…answering??”

“Only once. During my coming of age rite, naturally.” He eyed the youth sideways. “It was…uncomfortable. But I passed.”

“Your…culture…has a coming of age rite?”

“Most cultures do.”

“Ours doesn’t.”

“How unfortunate. It’s such a splendid way to build one’s confidence.”

Now Jake’s regard was suspicious. He was clearly wondering just how much Garak knew about Jake’s labeling himself a coward. “S…so, when you reached a certain age, they just…??”

“No, no. It wasn’t that diabolical. When the youth feels ready to face up to the challenge, he reports where required. But he chooses the time. Of course, there’s a deadline, but most prefer to…get it over with sooner.” Garak could read a thousand doubts, suspicions, and questions in the human’s regard. He tackled the one that was clearly at the forefront. “Later, in my career, I routinely performed the test on others. It was one of my favorite tasks; it kept me in touch with young people.”

Garak’s offer was unmistakable. It took everything that Jake had not to look away from the Cardassian, but the human forced himself not to, even though he knew that he was exhibiting stark fear.

Deliberately pretending to misunderstand, Garak assured him, “Oh don’t worry, no real harm was ever done to any of the youths, neither to me nor by me. Nor by anyone else.” He reached out and gently patted the human hand that still lay on the table.

Jake jolted in surprise, but did not pull it away from him. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long time.

Finally, Jake gave up any further pretense that they were speaking impersonally or hypothetically, and falteringly attempted to speak. “If…if…if I…tried…but couldn’t take it, couldn’t go through with it, …would…??” What he saw in Garak’s eyes caused him to turn his positive question into a negative one, in despair. “You wouldn’t let me out of it, would you?”

“That’s not how it’s done. Once the youth reports, a commitment is made,” the other told him softly but firmly.

“Well, …can you tell me in advance exactly what…you’d do??”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then, how can you expect me to just…???”

“Faith and courage.”

“Faith??”

“In me.”

 

The next day, Benjamin Sisko sought out Garak in his shop. He was obviously uneasy. “I appreciate that you handled my son’s job-assignment-dilemma sensitively and carefully.”

Garak smiled pleasantly and waited.

“But as to the other….”

“No harm will come to your son. I give you my word.”

One human eyebrow rose slightly.

“Trust me.”

Now Sisko looked shocked. “You usually advise the exact opposite, to me, and to everyone else as well.”

“Granted. But not in this instance.” Garak’s gaze was steady.

Sisko hesitated, clearly conflicted. “I don’t even know if….”

“I’m aware of that. Give him time. But let him choose, Commander.”

Sisko forced a wordless nod, but his expression was desolate.

 

For days, Sisko fretted every time that he was unaware of Jake’s exact whereabouts for more than a half-hour at a time.

But then came the day that he entered his quarters to find his son offering an uncertain smile, the first smile of any sort since his ill-fated trip with Bashir.

“Jake???” The commander tried not to sound too worried.

“Dad. I’m not a coward!” And then he ran into his father’s embrace.