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RENEGOTIATIONS

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In quite a number of universes, the Federation and the Cardassian Union, upon seeing the fiasco created by the so-called Demilitarized Zone which led to the formation of the Maquis, decided to attempt to renegotiate the border, incorporating as many as possible of the most volatile planets back within their proper spheres of influence. In a few of those universes, the negotiating teams themselves almost precipitated more crises than solutions. The following is one of the more colorful examples.

 

 

“With all due respect, Admiral,” Jean-Luc Picard said carefully. “Are you certain that I am the best choice to lead this negotiating team?”

“Absolutely,” replied Alynna Nechayev. “You’ve had as much or more experience than any other captain in dealing with the Cardassians.”

“It is precisely one of those experiences that causes me to question this appointment. Gul Madred will be one of the Cardassian negotiators, and in our…prior acquaintanceship, he did not exactly see me at my most…dignified.”

“Are you afraid to face him again?” she demanded bluntly.

Picard bristled. “Not at all, Admiral. I am simply concerned that that previous disastrous connection not undermine what we are trying to accomplish here.”

“I have confidence in your ability to recover your dignity in his presence.”

He was clearly still not entirely convinced. “I am reminded of your insistence upon keeping me away from the Borg, due to that past association.”

“That was different. There was a danger, since you had been very much under Borg control, that you might again fall under their influence. You have never been so, in that way, with the Cardassians.”

“True. I am also puzzled that you did not select Edward Jellico to lead our team, instead of merely appointing him to be one member of it. Before, you had identified him as the best qualified to deal with Cardassians.”

She abandoned her customary stiffness just enough to look rueful. “He’s the best when a belligerent, bullying approach is needed. This time, more finesse is required. And that is not his strong suit.”

“I see.”

“Are you satisfied with the other choices for your team?”

“I am a bit concerned regarding the inclusion of Benjamin Sisko. He bears me a serious grudge regarding the death of his wife, during that same Borg incident.”

“You and he will just have to cope. Like you, he has had a wealth of experience with the Cardassians.”

“Indeed. Also, I am surprised and a bit disappointed at the omission of Worf.”

She almost smiled. “Actually, Captain Sisko expressed that same sentiment.”

Picard’s brows rose.

The fleeting moment passed, and she was once more all business. “Worf is eminently useful in a commando raid, such as the one that you and he shared on Seltris 3, but for delicate diplomacy, I would not choose him, unless the negotiations were with his own people.”

“I understand. I’m pleased with the others: Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, Chief O’Brien from DS9: it will be nice to work with him again.”

“His experiences, particularly at Setlek 3, will make him invaluable.”

“I am curious about your selection of Dr. Bashir from DS9; why is a doctor being included?”

“He’s more than just a doctor. He and Luther Sloan will be there representing Section 31.”

Picard couldn’t suppress a frown. “Admiral, is that wise? Including Section 31 in this could be seen as provocational.”

“That decision was made as soon as we learned that the Cardassians were sending two representatives from the Obsidian Order.”

Picard barely resisted a whistle of concern.

 

The moment that he spied the delegation from the Federation, Garak took Bashir firmly by the arm and led him to one side.

Bashir forced a smile. “Fraternizing with the opposition? Is that allowed?”

Garak ignored his levity. “What is this about you representing Section 31??”

Disgruntled, Bashir replied, “It wasn’t my idea. Admiral Ross ordered me to do so, when he found out that you and Tain would be here from the Obsidian Order.”

“Since when are you a member of 31 at all???”

“Since I was drafted against my will some time ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were involved in that???”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were in the Order?” the human retorted.

“You’ve known for a long time!”

“Only because I gradually, eventually discovered it on my own; you were never willing to tell me!”

“Listen, Julian, watch yourself! As merely a Starfleet doctor, you were regarded as essentially harmless. But as an agent, you’re a prime target.”

“To whom? You??” He nearly smiled.

Garak tightened his grip to force his friend to focus. “I am not joking! Don’t get caught!”

Bashir frowned at the unpleasant pressure on his arm. “Well, if I ever am, perhaps I’ll be fortunate enough to be caught by you.”

Garak’s eyes bored into his. “If you’re extremely unfortunate! Don’t make light of this. I am very good at my profession.”

The human hesitated. “But…you…wouldn’t….”

His Cardassian friend regarded him sternly. “Now that I am back in Tain’s good graces, I have no intention of ever being exiled again. If anyone from the Order captures you, you’ll most likely be turned over to me.”

Bashir’s blood ran cold, and it showed in his face.

“Good, I’ve gotten through to you. Now be careful, and don’t put us in that predicament, because I’ll do what I have to do.”

 

Sure enough, Julian Bashir had no sooner sat down at the table with the others when Tain said to him almost casually, “And to think: I had you in my clutches that time that you came to me for help, and I let you go.” He shook his head. His expression was merely one of mild amusement, but Bashir was not fooled. He knew that Garak’s warning had been legitimate. He forced himself to retain a neutral expression.

 

Meanwhile, Picard was enduring his own awkwardness. Surprisingly, it was Gul Lemec – who had grudgingly removed him from Gul Madred’s interrogation room and delivered him back to the Enterprise at the end of that previous traumatic incident – who was the one smirking at him. He, too, of course, had seen the human captain vulnerable, and in dreadful disarray. Madred, by contrast, was simply staring at him, but endlessly, intently so. Picard met his eyes expressionlessly, in return, but as the leader of the Federation group, he could not afford to be drawn into a staring contest, so he broke eye contact promptly, and made it a point to allow his gaze to be continuously “circulating.”

 

Within slightly less than an hour into the proceedings, Riker turned his barely veiled contempt on Jellico. “You’re doing it again. Downplaying the importance of the Federation hostages that the Cardassians hold. Just as you did when it was Captain Picard.”

Lemec’s smirk was restored, but Picard studiously ignored it.

Jellico retorted, “I’m doing my job! Most of those so-called hostages are Maquis!”

Riker’s volume rose as well. “But not all of them! And even those that are, are still human beings and deserve better treatment than they are undoubtedly getting!”

Picard said firmly, “Gentlemen, whatever issues that you have between you must be settled privately, not during the formal negotiations.”

Tain corrected, “You mean, not in front of the Cardassians. No, indeed, you mustn’t let us see any dissension in the ranks.”

Gul Dukat addressed Riker, “It’s obvious why you’re especially concerned about our human prisoners, Commander; your…transporter-duplicate is among them.”

Picard regarded Dukat sharply, doubtlessly wondering how a Cardassian gul had learned of Riker’s tragic subdivision.

He was spared having to ask when Sisko confirmed, “He knows all about that.” The DS9 commander briefly filled everyone in on Tom Riker’s theft of the Defiant, and his subsequent capture and imprisonment by the Cardassians.

“You do indeed look exactly like him,” Dukat remarked, his gaze upon Riker uncomfortably intense.

Riker met his regard with a steely one of his own.

Diplomatically, Troi suggested, “Perhaps that topic could be tabled for now. We can always come back to it later.” She flashed Riker a brief sympathetic glance.

Riker was silent, but his attitude toward Jellico was clearly venomous.

“There will be a short recess,” Picard decided wisely.

 

At an extremely subtle signal from Sloan, Bashir reluctantly, dutifully followed him out into the corridor. They were talking in low tones when Tain and Garak emerged as well.

Their eyes and Bashir’s met and held. Tain’s regard was calculating; Garak’s was carefully expressionless; Bashir’s was open, innocent, wistful, and not-quite-questioning. Sloan noticed the byplay, and looked quickly from one to another of the three. Somewhat desolately, Bashir broke eye contact first, and his gaze slid to the floor. Sloan maneuvered to turn Bashir’s back to the two Cardassians.

“What was that?” the human agent challenged Bashir. “Grief, at an apparent loss of friendship? Fear, and a plea for compassion? Denial of wrongdoing, of any genuine involvement with 31? What?”

“I don’t know,” the doctor responded disconsolately. “Probably all of the above.”

“You need to get hold of yourself, Bashir,” Sloan told him severely. “Even if there ever was any true friendship there, which I doubt, it’s gone now. We’re on opposite sides of a very dangerous conflict.”

Wounded, Bashir said defensively, “I don’t feel opposed to them. Certainly not toward Garak, and not even toward Tain.”

“Why? Because out of loneliness and self-interest, Garak turned to you as a lunch companion? Because you had one civilized conversation with Tain years ago, and he didn’t have you drawn and quartered? He will now, or worse. Bet on it.” At the doctor’s accusing expression, Sloan remarked, “And you blame me for that. Blame whom you will. Just don’t get caught.”

Bashir’s eyes flicked upward at the startling coincidence of wording with what Garak had said to him. Then they dropped again dismally.

 

A short distance away, Miles O’Brien was observing Bashir’s heartache compassionately, wishing that there were something that he could say that would help to ease his sensitive friend through this.

He was approached by Legate Damar, who offered a somewhat friendly smile. “Impersonated any Klingons lately?”

The Irishman managed a faint smile in return. “Not recently, no.”

“I must hand it to you, Chief O’Brien. I was sure that your outrageous mission to expose the Changeling would fail, and that you, Odo, Sisko, and Worf would not survive.”

“I had my doubts, too,” the blond admitted. “But our accomplishment was no more audacious than your and Dukat’s against-all-odds appropriation of a Klingon vessel.”

Damar nodded pleased, though modest, acknowledgement.

 

Meanwhile, the aforementioned Dukat approached Deanna Troi, admiring her in profile. “Your loveliness brightens the view at our dreary negotiations table.”

“Thank you.” She was gracious, but a fleeting look in her eyes let Dukat know that his infamous reputation with mammalian women had not escaped her awareness.

His brief nod acknowledged that he had lost her before he’d even started. This freed him to speak frankly. “I believe that I noticed a subtle glimpse of feelings between you and Commander Riker.”

She hesitated, and then, seeing no harm in the admission, admitted it.

“Since I’m aware that, for most of his life, he and Tom Riker were one and the same person, I would hazard a guess that you can’t help but have feelings for him, also.”

Not bothering to deny it, Troi turned to him earnestly. “Please return him to us.”

Dukat studied her for a moment, and then said, “I’m sorry. We can’t do that.”

“But why? He made a mistake. He’s certainly more than paid for it in all of this time.”

“You misunderstand. We can’t return him, because he’s dead.” Dukat wasn’t prepared for her level of reaction. He was taken aback by her loud gasp, and the evident devastation in her eyes.

She accused, “You did it, didn’t you?! Your people, I mean. It was no accident, was it? You promised to let him live, but you never had any intention of doing so, did you?!” She turned her back on him, and retreated rapidly down the hallway.

 

In the negotiations chamber, during the break, Gul Madred approached Picard. The latter was not surprised, and steeled himself for a prickly conversation.

“How have you been, Captain?”

“Well enough. An odd question, coming from you.”

Madred didn’t bother to deny it. He nodded briefly. “I suppose so.”

Gul Lemec queried Picard smugly, “Does it bother you that we’re both involved in this official business with you?” He had also remained in the main negotiations room during the break, undoubtedly to taunt Picard, the human thought ruefully.

“Should it?” He barely restrained himself from instead asking, “Shouldn’t it?”

“I doubt that it makes you too comfortable to see us again.”

Picard faced him squarely. “If you have something to say, Lemec, just say it.”

He did, with obvious relish. “I’ve always envied Madred’s part in our previous affair with you. He had the far more entertaining role.”

Madred added almost conversationally, “Yes, Lemec has long teased me that, if he’d been doing it, he would have broken you. As I failed to do.”

Picard kept his features rigidly steady, to avoid telegraphing his thoughts: No, you did; you succeeded. “It’s always easy to second-guess another,” he commented blandly.

Lemec went on smoothly, “Well, in any case, either of us would be delighted to have you as a guest again, at any time.” He leered.

“No, thank you,” Picard responded carefully offhandedly. “But now, if you two will excuse me, I must consult with Commander Riker regarding his professional discord with Captain Jellico.” He left the room without a backward glance, and kept his sigh of relief entirely to himself.

 

But Picard had barely broached the subject with his second-in-command, when Riker shook his head mournfully. “It’s a moot point, Captain. The Cardassians killed Tom; Deanna found out from Dukat. They probably killed most or all of the other long-term prisoners, as well.”

“I’m so sorry, Will,” Picard said, and meant it.

 

Insisting to himself that it was the wise thing to do, Bashir went directly to Tain and Garak, and said boldly, “May I speak with you?”

Garak’s brow-ridges rose cautioningly. Tain executed a flourishing gesture of encouragement, and seemed downright amused by the human’s gall.

“I’m useless to you,” Bashir said bluntly.

Now both pairs of brow-ridges rose in surprise.

Bashir back-pedaled sheepishly. “That is, unless you’re ill or injured, and then I’d be very useful to you as a doctor. But that’s all.”

Both Cardassians studied him.

“Section 31 doesn’t share any of its secrets with me. I’m not a real agent. I’m just a glorified human recording device, due to my genetically-enhanced memorization skills. Nothing more.” He waited.

Presently, Tain remarked, “You may, indeed, be correct. Perhaps one day we’ll have the opportunity to verify that for ourselves.” His meaning was clear.

Bashir’s shoulders slumped.

Tain was poker-faced. Even Garak regarded him dispassionately. The brunette human sauntered away from them, fighting a blush of defeat.

 

O’Brien, long since finished his brief conversation with Damar, saw Bashir wander aimlessly away from Garak and Tain, and moved promptly to intercept his friend.

The brunette greeted him with a weak but genuine smile.

“Are you all right, Julian?”

Bashir started to provide an automatic nod, stopped himself, and shook his head.

“It’s never easy to lose a friend. I’ve been through it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s more than just losing a friend, Miles. I can’t get over it that Garak actually threatened me.”

The blond shrugged helplessly. “I always figured that it was inevitable eventually, given his brutal background.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I did. At the very beginning, when you first met him. You didn’t want to hear it.”

“Sorry.” He was embarrassed and sincere. “I saw you with Damar. Ironic, isn’t it? You having a decent conversation with a Cardassian now when I can’t. The tables have turned. Maybe I deserved this for being so confident in my happier past with them.”

O’Brien made light of it. “It’s easy for Damar and me to have a civil chat; he’s an engineer of sorts, too, so we have that in common. But I’m sure that it won’t go anywhere.”

 

The divvying-up of the various coveted planets entailed much shouting and posturing, but at last it was done.

Both disparate groups rose to depart from this neutral territory, and to return home to their respective not-so-neutral regions.

As O’Brien was approaching Bashir possessively, to make sure that his friend would be permitted to accompany him back to DS9, rather than be whisked away with the unsavory Sloan, he spotted the tiny, nearly unnoticeable device attached like a piece of lint on the doctor’s back. Another might have thought nothing of it, but as an engineer, O’Brien instantly knew exactly what it was.

“Julian!” he cried, vaulting the remaining distance between them, ripping the object from the startled brunette’s back, realizing instantly that he’d better not be holding it either, spying the troublesome Sloan as the only other person near enough – Dukat was calling for beam-out of all Cardassians at that very moment – and slapping it hastily onto that Section 31 agent’s back instead.

Sure enough, even as the reptilians were dematerializing, even as Bashir’s shocked gaze joined O’Brien’s in staring in dismay at Tain and Garak, even as the latter two looked unsurprised at and resigned to these events, Sloan dematerialized with them.

O’Brien just had to ask. “How many of the Cardassians got close enough to pin that tracking device on you?”

Bashir’s crushed expression told O’Brien just what he’d feared.

The latter said softly, “Even if Garak did do it, he would only have done so on Tain’s strict orders.”

But Bashir remained devastated.

 

“Why couldn’t you have slapped the device onto a table or something?!” Nechayev barked sharply.

O’Brien stared as if he couldn’t believe that he’d heard her correctly. “Sir, the Cardassians didn’t want a table! They wanted a victim! They would’ve tried again immediately. Perhaps more aggressively, by beaming in a large contingent.”

“You didn’t know that.”

“It was a safe bet.”

“So to spare your friend, you gave them the most valuable person there.”

O’Brien made a face.

Nechayev responded sarcastically, “Oh excuse me; he was not the most valuable person to you.”

“It happened so fast…. Look, Admiral, with all due respect, I only had three choices: leave it on Julian, keep it in my own hand, or put it on Sloan; no one else was close enough.” It was obvious by his tone that O’Brien saw retaining the item himself as the most unacceptable option.

Her eyes narrowed as she tested him. “If someone else had been available, would you have chosen differently?”

O’Brien pretended to consider. “Well, sir, let’s see: put it on one of my DS9 colleagues, or on one of my Enterprise former colleagues….” He turned bitter. “Or put it on a jerk who’d made our lives miserable….”

Nechayev ordered stiffly, “At this point you are on new assignment, O’Brien: rescue Sloan; get him back by any means necessary.”

The Irishman stared. “With respect, Admiral, I’m not an undercover agent.”

“You were once. Just once, and you succeeded fairly admirably, excusing only a mild aberration or two.”

“That was only against the Orion Syndicate!”

“Only? Few people would use the word ‘only’ in the same sentence with the phrase ‘Orion Syndicate.’”

He regarded her disparagingly. “Compared to the Cardassians?? I’d use the word ‘only’ in a sentence with any other species or group! Even the Borg! Besides, I’m sure that it’s way too late; whatever they wanted out of Sloan, and whatever they intended to do to him, it’s already long since done. Sir.”

“You will ascertain that,” was her steely reply.

O’Brien’s gaze grew colder by the moment as he regarded her, until at last he said, “With – or without – respect, Admiral: you can go straight to hell.”

 

Miles O’Brien had been an independent merchant, running his own small ship, for five months before he encountered a Cardassian ship; he always did his best to avoid them. With no ties – he’d almost married a girl named Keiko years ago, to whom Data, aboard the Enterprise, had introduced him, but she had backed out of the wedding – he’d found this more-tranquil life satisfying…until now. His frantic force-screen efforts were easily and almost immediately circumvented, and a single Cardassian began to materialize on his deck. He had just an instant in which to fear that it would be Gul Evek, come to abduct him again for another trumped-up tribunal, before he saw to his astonishment that it was Garak, who offered a reassuring smile. The human was marginally relieved, but disinclined to return the smile, given what Garak had tried to do to Bashir at the conference.

“Did you get a lot out of Sloan?” he demanded rigidly. He fully expected a response in the affirmative.

“No.” Garak surprised him. “He activated a suicide pill as soon as he saw that we had him. We were unable to save him, though we tried.”

His voice thick with sarcasm, O’Brien retorted, “How humanitarian of you.”

Garak ignored the evident bitterness. “If we’d known to expect Sloan, we’d have taken precautions against such an obvious defense on his part.”

“Why didn’t you tag him instead of Julian in the first place?!”

Garak wore a tolerant smile. “He was too slick to let any of us get close enough to plant it on him.”

O’Brien quietly simmered. “So you took advantage of your friendship with our trusting Julian to tag him.”

Garak looked saddened. “Tain ordered me to do it.”

The blond relented slightly. “I figured.” But then, he went on plaintively, “How could Tain have thought that Julian would have any top secret information anyway?”

“I suspect that he didn’t.”

“Then why???”

“To test my loyalty.”

In a hushed voice, the human said, “Like he’d done earlier with Odo: to see if you’d do it to a friend.”

Garak nodded wistfully.

O’Brien pressed, “Would you have at least tried to protect Julian?? Even a little???”

The Cardassian nodded again. “As best I could. I would’ve been his interrogator; I’d’ve tried persuasion as much as possible, and spared him torture if there were realistically any way to avoid it.”

Testing Garak, he insisted, “But if you’d had to resort to it….”

“If I’d had to resort to it….” This nod was grim.

His look of disgust was replaced by a sudden expression of renewed worry. “Are you still after Julian?”

“No. It would’ve been so easy to take him at the conference. But it would be too tricky with him on DS9. Tain never wanted him badly enough to make that degree of effort.”

Poignantly, O’Brien told Garak, “You know, you broke his heart.”

“Tell him that I’m truly sorry.” Garak was sincere. But then in near-humor, he remarked, “I hope that the appearance of our ship didn’t cause you too much alarm.” He clearly already knew the answer to that just by knowing O’Brien.

“I’ll get over it.” Then, a new realization occurred to him, and he said in growing disbelief, “Do you mean that that ship tracked me down just so that you could talk to me???”

Garak nodded.

“Wow.”

The other wore a mild-mannered grin.

“You’ve become influential.”

“It’s an Obsidian Order craft.” He nodded slightly.

O’Brien’s eyes widened in near-alarm.

Garak offered a tolerant smile.

“I’m glad that you’re not after me!” He suddenly blinked hard. “Are you??!”

“No,” he replied softly. “And I’m sorry that the repercussions of this destroyed your career in Starfleet.”

“I don’t care,” he returned roughly. “I don’t miss it. I miss Julian, but that’s all.”

“Still, I assume that you’re in touch with him from time to time.”

Now O’Brien nodded tolerantly. “Your message will get through, Garak, …and…and thanks.” He revealed a relieved smile as Garak beamed away from him.