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MORE THAN SHE COULD HANDLE

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I guess that this will have to be another A.U., because I’ve once again made Garak and Dukat harmonious instead of discordant. Confound it, I just like ‘em better that way!

 

 

            Dukat, Damar, and Garak were standing placidly together on the bridge of their small but efficient ship when a shrill feminine scream rent the air. To their utter astonishment, a human girl that they hadn’t even known was aboard fled desperately, recklessly in from the corridor. Her panicky, careless flight knocked her balance out from under her, and she crashed abruptly to the deck only about a meter from them. Barreling around the corner right behind her came Rusot. His own momentum and her unexpected tumble conspired against him, and he tripped and sprawled gracelessly on top of her. Never one to fail to take advantage of an opportunity, however accidental, Rusot began prying at her clothes as enthusiastically as if the floor-bound tangle had been planned. The girl shrieked, flailed, and kicked, and her eyes rose pleadingly to their shocked audience.

            “Oh, please, sirs! No!! Don’t let him!! Stop him; help me!! No!!!” Her last syllable reached the same height on the screech-meter as her initial wordless scream from the corridor.

“Rusot,” Dukat remarked in vague annoyance. “That is not how we treat ladies.”

“Get off of her,” Damar ordered in disgust.

Garak was positively revolted. “What do you think that you’re going to do, you artless, low-class moron: ravage her while we watch? There is a subtlety and culture to these things, you know, but then I suppose that you are oblivious to those concepts.”

Confused, disappointed, and angry, Rusot clambered awkwardly up off of her, and stared resentfully at his three superiors. Terrified, thoroughly intimidated by the sight of now four virile, powerful, dangerous Cardassian males, she hastily pushed her skirts back down with trembling hands, and watched them with wide eyes, her newfound silence broken only by regular, desperately-shuddering gasps.

Dukat sighed and stalked over to her, his most-cobra-like of the four visages frightening her so badly that even her gasps stopped in shock, and she forgot to breathe. He bent and gracefully extended a hand to her, and gallantly helped her to her feet. She was unsteady with fear, and he braced her gentlemanly by his hands on her shoulders, thoughtfully, chastely careful not to touch her anywhere that would increase her already four-alarm fright. As soon as he thought that he could release her without her collapsing again, he took her hand in his, and tenderly planted upon it an innocent kiss. Garak and Damar exchanged a quick wry glance at his transparent, predictable behavior. Just like during the Occupation, when he’d always preferred to charm his way into a Bajoran slave’s pants instead of simply raping her as he was easily able. In typical fashion, this human girl was already falling for it; her amazed, awed, desperately hopeful eyes searched his back and forth; she was already beginning to rely on him as a protector.

When she tore her eyes away from his, blushing, Dukat released her hand and backed off a step, resisting the urge to push, seeking to lull her even more into trusting him.

Ever practical, Damar dutifully inquired, “Are you hurt?”

She met his eyes in gratitude. “No, sir, I don’t think so. Thank you for asking.” Her voice still shook, and exhibited no sign of steadying in the near future.

Garak pitied her. He recognized his own natural predatory lust for her, even as he realized how unwelcome that would be to this innocent human girl who was obviously terrified of strong, dangerous, and potentially sadistic Cardassians. That was, after all, his species’ reputation, and it was well earned. In fact, he counted it as inevitable that, if she were aboard long enough, one or more or all of the four males on this small ship would have his way with her, and he sympathized with her unavoidable resultant trauma. Perhaps overcompensating, he was almost exaggeratedly cheerful, reassuring, and polite when he spoke to her.

“Now who have we here? What charming and delightful creature has graced our midst?”

Recognizing his kindness, if not the reason for it, she smiled gratefully, appreciating the sincerity that she saw in his eyes. “I am Niara Harrington, sir.” She even attempted a slight, nervous curtsey.

“And I am Rusot!” he growled nastily, if only to remind her of his unpleasant nearness.

Sure enough, she whirled and backed away from him several steps, which carried her even closer to the other three.

“Get out of here, Rusot,” Dukat said tiredly. “Go below and get some work done.”

The underling sauntered out resentfully.

Niara had nowhere near run out of worries. She turned back to the three appealingly. “Oh please, sirs, I can just imagine what you must be thinking, but I swear to you that I did not lead him on, flirt with him, entice him in any way! Please believe me!”

“Of course we believe you, my dear,” Dukat said smoothly. “We know what a cad Rusot can be. And I can see that you are not a tease.”

He could see more than that, Garak thought grimly. Like him, Dukat had certainly already pegged her as a gullible rube, without the slightest trace of the worldliness or courage that it would take to come on to a Cardassian.

“Thank you!” Her voice fluttered with relief, but then she immediately plunged ahead with her next fear, as if hoping to spill them all out before she could drown in them. “And please, please, forgive me for being a stowaway! I certainly did not plan to be! And believe me, I’m no saboteur! I wouldn’t have the courage, and I wouldn’t know how! I didn’t bother anything, honest! I only sneaked in because I desperately needed to hide! I had no idea whose ship this was, and I certainly didn’t know that it was about to leave the station! But I was trapped, and there just was nowhere else to hide!”

They’d realized that the F-5 station was where they must have acquired her; there simply was nowhere else from whence she could have come. But that sleazy, low-life station on the Romulan-Klingon border, a seedy gathering-place for Orion pirates and Nausicaan smugglers, was no place for a born-yesterday type like this girl before them, even if it had been a more than adequate place for Cardassians to take on supplies.

“Hide from whom?” Damar asked politely.

“Drunken Klingons!!” She shuddered violently.

“Klingons??” Dukat was trying not to be amused, but he was having a difficult time of it. “Klingons are allies of your people.”

“Yes, sir.” She was twisting her fingers in agitation. “But I’ve found that, just because their Empire and our Federation are political allies at the moment, doesn’t have any real bearing on how any individual male Klingon will treat any particular human lady, especially if he’s drunk.”

Her wording coaxed a wry smile from Dukat. “No, I suppose not. But I do find it ironic in the extreme that while fleeing an ally, you fled right onto the ship of a non-ally.” He was still smiling to take the sting from his words, to make it clear that he was not threatening.

She responded with a weak, sardonic half-smile of her own. “Believe me, sir, the irony of this situation has not escaped me.”

Garak smiled gently, supportively. “Need we wonder why these drunken Klingons were pursuing you?”

He’d clearly already guessed the answer, and she nodded at his evident unspoken assumption. “For the same inappropriate purpose as your man there.” She gestured to the doorway through which she and Rusot had made their chaotic entrance.

Damar, too, was smiling amicably. “How did you happen to come to the attention of this group of drunken Klingons?”

She sighed. “They saw me in the bar.”

All smiles dropped in shock; this sweet thing had been in that unsavory bar???

She must have read their meaning in their faces, because she blurted, “I’d met a very nice freighter captain. A human,” she added lamely, insecure about whether or not they would know to assume that the gentleman had been of her species; their rueful expressions revealed that yes, they’d figured her out well enough to assume it. She blushed slightly at the all-too-clear nonverbal communication. “He’d asked me to meet him in the bar. He’d seemed so enchanting, so dashing!” Her still-quivering voice dropped. “But he didn’t show up; I wonder if something happened to him! Anyway, it didn’t take long for me to figure out that I didn’t belong in there!” She shivered. “But by then, it was too late; the Klingons had noticed me. I left quickly, but they followed me!”

Garak thought ruefully, Well, at least she knew that that bar was no place for her; at least she has some awareness of how she’s perceived by others.

If it were possible, she turned even more timid. “May I ask your names, sirs?” She hung her head and looked upward at them through shyly lowered lashes, as if fearing that she’d asked something inappropriate.

As Damar introduced himself, she smiled politely and nodded. For Garak, she responded with a wistful I-want-to-trust-you smile. But when Dukat identified himself, she gasped and went white as a sheet.

The smugness with which he’d presented himself fell away, and he surmised evenly, “You’ve heard of me.”

Her voice was no louder than a mouse’s squeak. “You…were…the…Prefect of Bajor.” She was trembling ferociously.

He struggled not to sigh. “Have you ever even met any Bajorans?”

Niara nodded wordlessly, and then said, “One…woman.”

Garak eyed Dukat sideways, and the latter wisely decided not to ask anything further on the subject, and to quit while he wasn’t ahead. It was evident to both of them, and to Damar as well, that she had now switched to overly-kind-out-of-pity Garak as her best hope for protection, a potential savior to a probably doomed maiden.

Niara had not run out of worried questions. “Do you think that you’ll be anywhere near Federation territory soon? Or maybe we’ll pass a Federation ship. Bound for anywhere in the Federation would be more than fine! Will you release me to them, if we do?? Will you let me remain here until then?” She hesitated. “Am I a prisoner, sirs?” Her trembling worsened again.

Dukat spoke frankly, “You’re not a prisoner. But it may be quite some time before we’re anywhere near Federation territory. A passing ship? Who knows? We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Oh.” Her gaze dropped. She seemed to be all too aware of her peril here. She was visibly shaking again; she obviously knew of Cardassian men’s frequent abuse of mammalian women, and now Dukat’s identity and unsavory reputation had driven the point brutally home to her.

Damar said, “We have an extra stateroom. We’ll assign you quarters.”

“With a lock on the door??” she blurted imploringly.

Three pairs of brow ridges rose in various stages of amusement at her having overtly called attention to what everyone was doubtless thinking.

Instantly horribly self-conscious, she hastened to add, “Him!” She gestured to the doorway as before, and stammered, “I mean…! He might…! What if…! I don’t…!” She couldn’t seem to complete any of the awkward sentences, so she began to sob, and her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Garak wanted to soothe her, but he didn’t want to mislead her; the danger was real. “You are the only female on a ship of four men. That is unfortunate,” he said carefully.

“I know.” Her eyes were everywhere but on them, now that the topic was out in the open, much to her discomfort.  “This is…awkward in the extreme.” Her gaze fled from one corner of the room to another.

“I’m going to take a guess here,” Damar said boldly. “You’ve never been with any man who wasn’t human. Am I right?”

Her nod was quick, spasmodic, and embarrassed.

“Fear of the unknown,” Dukat said mildly. “Understandable, but not incurable.”

A single tremor ran through her, so hard that it nearly bent her double, and she still couldn’t meet their eyes. Clearly, a “cure” for her fear would not be her first choice.

Dukat ventured, “We three are not like Rusot, you know. We prefer to be gentle.”

Niara winced. “But, I wasn’t…! I didn’t mean…! This wasn’t…!”

This time, Dukat finished her sentences for her, instead of leaving them hanging. “You weren’t supposed to be here. You didn’t mean to run from Klingons onto a shipload of Cardassians. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He paused for a beat. “But it has happened.”

She cringed, and twisted her fingers together worse than ever. Her eyes were teary and terrified.

Dukat watched her unwaveringly. “This will take a while. And we’ll take it one step at a time.”

She flinched, and begged, “Mr. Garak, please help me! Don’t let anyone…!”

Damar could no longer resist. He told Dukat, “Ironic. She keeps turning for protection to the only one of us who was ever in the Obsidian Order.”

Garak regarded him chidingly, for adding to the difficulties of an already troubled situation. Niara stared at Garak, her eyes widening steadily in horror, until she crumpled to the deck.

 

The three must have discussed things and come to certain agreements while she was unconscious, because by the time that Niara awoke, she saw that as one they ignored her having fainted or awakened, and merely walked around her where she lay, as they carried out their various tasks. She rose to a sitting position, leaning on her hands and watching them circumnavigate her, until she self-consciously rose to her feet and retreated to an out-of-the-way corner, and continued to observe the Cardassians wordlessly from there.

This went on until Rusot’s duties brought him back up to the bridge. To Niara’s dismay, his post was close to where she’d taken up defensive residence, and she backed off hastily as he displaced her.

As she withdrew, Rusot sneered, “I don’t see much difference between humans and Bajorans anyway. What difference does a nose-wrinkle make? Either way, it feels like we’ve got a handy slave again.”

Dukat replied, “Perhaps, but our slaves need our kindness and compassion, not our hostility or violence.” So saying, as if to illustrate his point, in passing, he admiringly and gently caressed the long, luxurious pale hair that cascaded down her back, clearly enjoying the feel of it.

Her retreat from Rusot had put her back into the main flow of traffic; time and again, one or another Cardassian passed her, and, as if inspired by Dukat’s gesture, each fell into the habit of putting a gentle hand on her back with each passage, perhaps to reassure her, perhaps to keep her from backing into him at that moment, perhaps to try to gradually get her used to his touch, or perhaps just because the feel of her soft long human hair held quite an allure. In doing so, however, each had to try to ignore her resultant tiny squeals of fright. She managed to tolerate it, although skittishly, from Dukat, Garak, and Damar. Rusot, however, had no such opportunity. Niara always carefully monitored his whereabouts; if he came within meters of her, she instantly sidestepped even the slightest chance of contact.

Inevitably, Dukat announced the need to assign quarters to their human guest. Rusot smirked at her. Briefly panicked, without thinking, the nervous girl blurted, “I’m afraid to be alone!”

Even as she realized how unwise that statement was, Dukat seized upon it. “You’d be safer sleeping with any one of the three of us.” His glance included Garak and Damar. “You won’t be hurt that way.” He glanced meaningfully toward a surly Rusot.

Niara’s terror returned full force, and she fumbled, “Perhaps…a…lock…on…the …door….”

Rusot eyed her nastily. “Locks can be picked.”

All three of the others, tired of their underling causing problems as well as undermining their kinder approach, rose to her defense.

“Shut up, Rusot!” said Damar.

“Leave her alone!” ordered Garak

“Then she’ll prop a chair under the doorknob,” suggested Dukat.

Niara smiled in relief and appreciation of the practical solution as well as their support. Rusot glowered, and he was still not stifled. “Someone will have to take her below and show her where her quarters are.”

With no hesitation, she went straight to Garak. “Will you escort me, sir?”

His smile was genuine. “I would be delighted.” He offered her his arm, and she gladly took it.

The pair hadn’t even reached the doorway before Rusot got in a final dig. “It’s only a matter of time.” He eyed her lecherously.

Badly shaken, Niara accompanied Garak out into the corridor.

Outside of her new quarters, she told Garak meaningfully, “I really am afraid to be alone.”

He shook his head at her.  “I’m no more trustworthy to be alone with you than the others.”

Eyes downcast, she said, “I guess that I knew that. I’d just hoped that chivalry was not dead.”

Garak gave her a long, caring smile. “And you pictured a cot for you placed in my quarters, but each of us keeping to his own side of the room.”

“Something like that.”

“I’m pleased but surprised by your willingness to trust me, given what Damar revealed about my insidious past.”

“I have to rely on someone, and I still think that you’re the most trustworthy.” She quirked a crooked smile. “I admit that what Damar said about you is scary, but I don’t see why you’d ever torture me or anything. It’s not as if the Federation would’ve entrusted a coward like me with any secrets.”

They grinned together at the absurdity of the thought. She did, indeed, see herself realistically.

Niara sobered. “Much as I hate to admit it, Rusot’s probably right about one thing: if I’m here long enough, it’s only a matter of time.”

He wished that he could contradict and reassure her, but they would both know it for the transparent lie that it would be.

She regarded him timidly. “If someone’s going to, I’d rather it be you.”

Immensely flattered, although still bewildered by her faith in him, he said, “You don’t have to rush into this.”

“Good, because I am scared, even of being with the one I trust the most. But, how long have I got?” She paused. “Before Dukat does his charming debonair stuff in earnest, or Damar rationalizes and persuades logically, or Rusot just plain jumps me? If I wait too long, someone else may get there ahead of you, and I have a very strong feeling that I really don’t want that to happen. I’m convinced that you would be the gentlest with me.”

He was impressed; rube or not, she had the others pegged pretty accurately. Garak cradled her soft face in his strong gray hand, and she leaned into the caressing support in the desperate need born of the misery of fright. He couldn’t help noticing that her eyes were as lovely and blue as a Cardassian’s. Something stirred within him, and he quickly let go of her.

At her surprised look, he said, melancholy, “You trust me, my dear, a great deal more than I trust myself.”

Minimally frightened, but only that minutely, Niara said, “Goodnight, then.”

“Lock and block the door,” he reminded her.

 

For days, tension and the occasional suggestive double-entendre continued to plague the otherwise uneventful journey.

Finally, Rusot, his expression sinister, said, “You’ve been with us for five days, and still you haven’t been touched. How much longer do you have? When will your reprieve be at an end?”

It was such a close echo to what Niara had said to Garak that first night, that she put her face in her hands and cried in anguish.

Perhaps even more ominously, instead of reprimanding him, the other three exchanged long, thoughtful looks.

“Are we doing her any favors, I wonder, by postponing the inevitable?” mused Dukat.

“Maybe we’re just lengthening her suspense and nervousness, and allowing her false hope of escape,” agreed Damar.

Even Garak had exchanged his “you-don’t-have-to-rush-into-anything” expression for a resigned “might-as-well-get-it-over-with” look.

Instantly frantic, Niara shook her head vigorously back and forth, and uselessly tried to back away from them. Her eyes took on the look of a hunted wild animal. When she backed into the bulkhead, she slid down it and huddled on the floor in horror.

Dukat held up a placating hand. “We will take her gently, one per ‘night,’ and we will permit her the dignity of choosing the sequence.”

Rusot looked disgusted; he knew where that placed him.

“Choose,” Dukat ordered her.

Eyes in her lap, unable to face anyone, she murmured, “In a way, I already have. The one of you that’s to be first already knows that he is.”

Dukat and Damar stared blankly, and Garak smoothly went to her, and helped her up from the floor. She watched him in a poignant combination of trust and terror.

Niara tried not to hear the macho chuckles of the others as Garak escorted her off of the bridge.

As he secured the door behind them shutting them in for the night and the others out, Niara was whimpering and pulling nervously at her lower lip. “Garak, I’m scared! I feel like a virgin all over again!”

“In a way, you are,” he said placidly. “Look, I’d spare you if I thought it would do you any good. But it wouldn’t, because then tomorrow night you’d be facing the same fear all over again. In fact, it would be worse, because you’d be contending with one of the others whom you fear even more. And the others won’t spare you.”

“I know!” she said miserably. “And of course I prefer you, but…!”

“I understand.” Garak took her tenderly in his arms, careful to be affectionate rather than passionate, to avoid overwhelming her. “And I will be the gentlest I have ever been.”

He was true to his word. And he missed no opportunity to put her more at ease, by allowing some unusual latitudes. Instead of requiring her to disrobe, he kept her more at ease by reaching a hand up under her skirt or inside of her blouse. Despite her whimper with each change of location, he managed not to panic her.

Her curiosity beginning to surface due to his kindness, she asked timidly, “Garak? Are your women very different from us there?”

He was pensive as he petted her gently, creatively, lovingly. “You are much softer, you mammals. Our women are scaly, because we’re reptilian. That’s why a lot of us, especially Dukat, prefer your women.”

“That’s…flattering…and nice….”

“Go on,” he prompted gently. “Ask your other question.”

She flinched. “How did you know?”

He murmured kind, not judgmental, humor. “It’s obvious.”

Her voice dropped to a shy whisper. “Are…you…very…different…from our men?”

He kissed her temple tenderly. “We’re scaly. Yes, even there. In fact, to us, your men always look…unfinished somehow. As if they were wearing some of their internals on the outside.”

“Ewww!” she blurted automatically, involuntarily at the description.

Garak chuckled mildly. “Yes, that’s our reaction exactly. And it makes your men appear very vulnerable by comparison. In fact, a lot of us reptilian men laugh together about that very aspect of mammalian men. It looks particularly incongruous on Klingons. They are so formidable in appearance everywhere else. But then there’s that delicate pink dangle, looking for all the universe as if it’s impudently daring us to sink in our claws and rip it free. We are predators, you must remember.”

He had her giggling in spite of herself.

“By comparison, ours is gray and armored-looking, what we Cardassians call a real male organ.” He hesitated. “Do you feel ready to…feel the difference?”

She shivered and he held her tighter. She barely mumbled faint assent.

Allowing her clothes to still modestly cover her as much as possible, he moved into position.

“Ow!” She winced.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “We’re a bit larger than your men. I’ll go slower.”

 

Facing the other three men the next morning was clearly excruciating for her. Just knowing that they knew, and that they had doubtless been trying to picture it, completely unnerved Niara. Even with Garak’s comforting arm around her, she was embarrassed nearly beyond endurance, especially given their lecherous looks at her.

Kindly, Garak told them, “She’s a little shy this morning.”

Predictably, the nasty remark came from Rusot. He sneered like a vile vulture. “Why? Because now we know that she knows what we’re like? No more unknowns, eh, human? I’ll bet you could never want a human man again, uh?”

His graphic implications were written in Dukat’s and Damar’s expressions as well. With a timid cry, Niara fled the room.

Garak sighed.

“So?” Dukat prompted him. “How was she?” His leer was completely at odds with how Garak really felt about her, and the latter deflated the gul with his honesty.

“She was enchanting, so fragile. Her fright was palpable and endearing and mesmerizing. She inspired more than gentleness: protectiveness in me. It reminded me of the time I held a small furred creature from her planet in my hand, and I could feel its tiny heart beating in fear against my palm. So it was with our frightened Niara: I could feel her heart pounding against my chest; it made me want to protect her and ravish her all at the same time, a most compelling combination of feelings, I can tell you.”

It may not have been what Dukat had wanted to hear, but he responded to it gamely, nevertheless. “Well, that’s because we’re predators, Garak; she and the small furred creature both could probably sense it. Even when we’re tempered by benevolent intentions, our innate, basic instinct to ravage is never far from the surface.”

“More to the point.” Damar’s lust was evident. “I wonder which one of us will prey upon her tonight.”

 

Niara might’ve remained hiding below all day in shame from their bawdy attitude toward her, and in fear of the next night’s victimization, but for the sudden appearance of Rusot belowdecks for his duties. Seeing him, she instantly fled back up top again.

Damar smirked at her. “I thought that would bring you fleeing back up here.”

She looked wounded. “Did you send him down on purpose, to chase me back up here?”

He shrugged. “That was only one motive. Rusot does have work to do, you know.”

All day, the minutes were tedious, as she tried to stay out of their way and to avoid their leering looks, but the hours slipped by too fast, bringing her too quickly to her next night of reckoning. All too soon, Dukat and Damar were demanding that she choose.

Bolstered by encouraging looks and smiles from Garak, Niara gingerly went to Dukat. “You prefer to be gentle, you said.”

The gul tried not to look smug. “I do.”

She teared up, and pleaded, “No woman has ever needed gentleness more than I!”

He said evenly, “You will find me capable of great kindness.” He lightly touched her arm to escort her.

Impulsively, Niara called “Garak!” and broke away; she ran to him to be held for a moment before Dukat could claim her. Garak soothed her briefly while Dukat waited more or less patiently, but then released and nudged her gently toward her paramour of the night.

As she’d feared, Dukat was more aggressive with her than Garak had been. Gentle, yes, but aggressive. He was nuzzling her while pulling at her clothes, and she whimpered and squirmed.

“Why are you still so skittish? Didn’t Garak get you straightened out last night?”

“He didn’t make me undress! He didn’t make such sudden moves!” she whined.

“Didn’t make you undress???”

“Well, no. He just sort of…um….”

“Felt you up like a virginal teenager, and then just lifted your skirt. I suppose that sort of adolescent behavior was a kindness on your first night, and Garak was generous to allow you that comfort. But you will receive more adult treatment from me, and likely from Garak, too, when he again takes you. I will be kind, yes, but not juvenile.”

She sobbed into his shoulder.

He sighed heavily, and relented slightly. “However, I will endeavor to move less suddenly.”

“Um…thank you.”

“My, but you Earth-women are timid! The opposite of Bajorans! No significant physical differences, but temperament is another issue again!”

“Why?” Niara struggled to keep the conversation going to distract herself from the horribly exposed feeling of her dress now being gone. He was reaching for her bra and panties, and she was flinching away spasmodically.

Dukat smiled grimly. “A Bajoran woman would sooner kick a Cardassian between the legs than cry.”

“You’d rather that I kicked you???”

“No. I’m just saying that you’re different.”

“The Bajorans had to be tough; you enslaved them for decades.” She whimpered at the unpleasant departure of her bra. Her arms covered her protectively.

He ignored her annoying modesty temporarily while he went after her pants. “True. Maybe if Cardassia Prime had been near Earth instead of near Bajor, it would’ve been the other way around. Step out of them.”

She was crying harder, but she obeyed.

Dukat straightened and stared, thunderstruck. “So much for my theory of no significant physical difference, and you actually are adolescent in appearance! Bajoran women are hairy there, and you’re…!”

“I’m this way by choice. Most human women are hairy, too, but I think that’s gross!”

“Lovely! So smooth! So soft!” He petted her in awe.

A ghost of a smile managed to grace her features. “Garak liked me this way, too. I’m glad that you do.”

“It makes you seem very young. And…vulnerable.” Jaded, experienced Dukat had hardly expected to be charmed by this one in any special way. He’d just expected another routine mammalian specimen, another victim among thousands. Despite himself, he was beginning to see why Garak felt so protective of this one. His caresses became more tender than ever before, and more creative. Her sweet, unique availability encouraged exploration, and fascinated him as he could never have expected. He was like a child with a new toy, and her childlike appearance and shyness began to turn him on more than any raunchy woman ever had. Even her squeak of fear when he revealed himself thrilled him, and for the first time in his life, he realized that feminine modesty and timidity were a great deal more erotic than female experienced boldness ever could be.

The only thing that worried him as she fell asleep in his arms, was how he was going to answer Damar’s and Rusot’s lecherous questions tomorrow, without sounding as sappy as Garak had this morning.

 

The next morning, Dukat entered the bridge alone.

“Where is she?” asked a concerned, not quite alarmed Garak.

“I let her sleep.” He added tiredly, “Stay here, Rusot; leave her alone!” as he saw the unsurprising attempted departure.

“Well?” prompted Damar. “Don’t leave us in suspense. How was she?!”

“She’s…unique,” Dukat said, and found Garak grinning broadly at him.

Damar looked puzzledly back and forth between them.

“We’ll let you find out for yourself tonight,” Dukat said enigmatically, with a wink at Garak.

 

Almost before Niara knew it, “night” had arrived. She’d been watching Damar apprehensively, wondering how soon she would again be violated. When he turned to give her the look that she instantly recognized as “meaning business,” she shuddered involuntarily.

“Still skittish?” Damar smiled faintly. “I’d think by now you’d’ve settled down pretty well.”

“I never know in advance how each of you will treat me,” she said timidly.

“True enough,” he conceded.

“Speaking of which, …do you see yourself as a gentle man? Did you agree with Rusot that there’s little difference between a Bajoran woman and a human woman? Do you see me as a slave? And how did you treat Bajoran women during the Occupation?”

The other Cardassians were all watching the exchange intently.

Damar smiled faintly. “A lot of questions, but all seeking basically the same information. I guess you could say that I’m gentle, but I don’t tolerate a battle. It was pretty automatic for Bajoran slaves to resist, so I got used to using force. But every now and then there was a rare one who preferred to surrender and submit rather than get roughed-up uselessly just for the sake of pride. I wasn’t any more heavy-handed than I had to be. If a slave wanted to fight, I hurt her, and if she gave in, I took it easy on her. You’ll have the same options.”

Niara seemed more apprehensive, not less. Tearing up, she looked to Garak and Dukat.

Garak said sympathetically, encouragingly, “You’ll be all right. You’re not going to fight him.”

“No, but….” She bit her lip.

“But what?” Damar prompted.

“But…how patient will you be??”

He shrugged. “What, because of your crying? I won’t hurt you just because you cry.”

She was twisting her fingers again, at a loss.

Dukat spoke up firmly, “Niara, I think I see the problem. There’s only one behavior I got from you that might make Damar lose his temper with you. If you’re pulling away and fussing and covering yourself, you might indeed provoke an attack, from someone who basically raped his way through the Occupation.”

Niara cringed at his wording.

Damar turned to the girl and stared. “That’s what you did? Last night and the night before that? Pulled away and fussed and tried to hide yourself??” His expression did not reassure her.

Still, she forced herself to answer honestly, drawing strength from the presence of Garak and Dukat. “Well, it was the inevitable result of being terrified and unwilling. But I wasn’t deliberately being difficult; I was coping the best that I could. They knew that, and were patient and compassionate. But I can see how my…automatic panicky reactions could be misinterpreted. I’m hoping that…now you’ll understand that, and be patient and forgiving like they were. I can’t and won’t fight you. But please, Damar…!” Her voice failed. She’d dreaded bringing this up, but she’d known that she had to do so with the support of the others; she didn’t dare wait to gauge his intentions until he had her alone; it would be way too late by then to hope for any rescue from the previous two.

Garak’s arms were around her, and she turned and clutched at him. Dukat went closer, too, and kept urging Damar with his eyes. The latter wasn’t thrilled with this development, but he used humor to try to deflect some of the grimness.

“You really are a mess, aren’t you?”

She sniffled and nodded.

“But she’s worth it.” Garak patted her affectionately.

“She really is,” Dukat told him frankly.

Damar studied her contemplatively.

Niara told him fervently, “No matter what happens, I won’t be fighting you! Please remember!” She dissolved into sobs, and hid her face in Garak’s shoulder. “Oh please don’t hurt me!! Please, please don’t hurt me!!!” Her sobs were more pitiful than any he’d ever heard in his life.

“All right,” Damar promised resignedly. “I’ll remember.”

She clung to his arm as he drew her away, and kept looking back at her two defenders until they were out of sight. She saw Garak “tsk” to Dukat, and saw the latter raise concerned brow ridges in return.

Her spasmodic “death grip” on his arm both amazed and amused Damar. But as he locked them in, she not only let go, but also retreated to the far corner of the room, where she cowered in fear of him.

He observed her quizzically. “Wouldn’t it frighten you less to come to me, than to make me pursue you and corner you?”

“I…can’t! You…scare…me!”

Damar sighed and went after her.

Niara realized one thing right away: he was right that she was far more afraid to see him coming at her like this. Despite his promises from before, her panic was rising at an alarming rate.

Frantically, she blubbered, “I’m not fighting you; I’m not fighting you; I’m not fighting you; oh god, oh no no no no no!!!”

She was gathered into formidably strong arms and silenced with a passionate kiss. She was effortlessly pulled across the room even as the kiss went on, and then, with a disorienting shove, she was propelled onto the bed.

Damar was instantly beside her. “Are you going to undress you, or am I going to undress you?”

“I…can’t! Too…scared!”

Unsurprised, he pitched into the task. Immediately, she realized how easy she’d had it with Dukat, let alone Garak. Garak, of course, had spared her any serious unveiling, and while Dukat had not, he’d been clinically efficient about it and completely under control. But Damar was letting his passions run wild. He didn’t seem to realize, or at least to care, that it was that very passion that was fueling Niara’s panic into a conflagration.

As she was stripped and fondled, she babbled frantically at him, “No, don’t!! Oh, please, Damar!! Wait! No!! Help!!! Not so fast!!! Let go!!! Oh, please!!! This is too fast!!! Owwwwch!!!!”

“It’s only my finger! I’m not hurting you!” Damar was exasperated.

“It does, it does hurt; you’re too fast!!” she whimpered.

For one moment, he lost his temper. “No, this is hurting you!” He seized the most delicate part of her and pinched hard.

Her scream almost broke four eardrums, and she saw the resulting fury in his eyes. Niara gasped in dramatic horror as she realized what was imminent if she didn’t settle down, and quickly. Desperately lowering her volume to a near whisper, she begged urgently, “I’m not fighting you! I’m not fighting you! Oh, please don’t hurt me!!!”

He looked away from her for a minute and gradually seemed to collect himself. “Look, I’m sorry. I thought that if I could arouse your passion quickly, I could prevent all of that flighty stuff that Dukat said that you do.”

“Oh,” she murmured shakily. “It didn’t work.”

“No kidding,” he said wryly. Then he looked truly repentant. “Listen, I really did intend not to hurt you, but you are a challenge.”

“I suppose.”

Then he grinned weakly. “And I see why Dukat called you unique. I must admit….” Damar stared blatantly at her, and she squirmed. “This backfired on you. It’s too sexy. It’s another part of the reason that I lost control.”

“Oh. Oops.”

“It also doesn’t help that I had to wait all of this time to have you. I had to look at you all day for five days when nobody could have you. Then, for two more nights, I had to watch you leave on Garak’s arm, and then on Dukat’s. Do you have any idea how many cold showers I’ve taken?”

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“I’m not asking for an apology; I just want you to understand.”

She nodded mutely. Then, she timidly reached up to touch his face. “You are handsome, Damar; I noticed that right from the beginning.”

He smiled in surprise. “Mammalian women don’t usually consider us handsome.”

“They’re fools,” she said bluntly, and surprised even herself.

He grinned delightedly.

She traced the contours of his face with one delicate finger, as softly as a feather. “You are what I would call ‘classically handsome.’ Regular, perfect features. Dukat and Garak are very handsome, too, but each in his own unique way. Dukat is powerfully, frighteningly handsome, in a way that nearly makes my heart stop. Garak is kind, sweet, ‘gentleman handsome.’ I wish I could explain better.”

“And Rusot?” Damar teased her, with a twinkle in his eyes.

She made a face. “Not at all handsome. Devious, sneaky, nasty, petty, surly ‘non-handsome.’”

He chuckled. She liked his laugh. Her own eyes began to sparkle as well. “You know what else?”

“What?”

“Your uniforms are so sexy!” She sounded almost giddy. “I thought so even before I ever met any of you. Just from pictures. Powerful, strongly-in-charge-shaped, ultra-masculine, invincible torso! Slender, long, straight legs! Your uniforms make the most of what you have; they suit you, compliment you; no other garments could ever do as much for any of you! If only I weren’t such a coward, if only I hadn’t been so thoroughly inexperienced with aliens of any sort, if only your people didn’t have such a fearsome reputation, especially with mammalian women…!” She sighed wistfully. “Oh, Damar! I do want you! Just, …when the time comes to…you know, …please be slow and gentle!”

“I promise.”

 

Twelve years later, when relations between the Federation and the Cardassian Union were much smoother, the three highest Cardassian government officials: Garak, Dukat, and Damar were entertaining the Federation President in their mansion. Their visitor was absolutely flabbergasted to see an extravagantly dressed human woman as their hostess: politely, confidently, surreptitiously advising the servants in choices of drinks and hors-d’oeuvres, smiling and occasionally winking at one or another of his three hosts with complete familiarity, totally at ease in her situation.

The President couldn’t help but stare. As it happened, he was human, too, and the only way that he could’ve been more shocked would’ve been if she’d been Bajoran.

The four housemates grinned together at his perplexity; they’d expected it. They took pity on him and explained. He still had a question or two.

“Didn’t you ever want to go home?”

“I did at first, of course. But as I got to know them better, I didn’t want to leave them, even though I still miss my own culture now and then.”

Garak reached out and took her hand affectionately. “Now that relations are better, we’ll take you back for a visit. You can show us where you grew up, and where you called home, before you met us.”

She smiled serenely, clearly loving him and his offer.

The still-stunned President asked, “Well, how did your ship’s crew deal with having a human woman aboard all of a sudden? That can’t have been comfortable at first.”

Dukat looked rueful at the memory. “It was a small ship, with just one crewman other than us, and yes, protecting her from his rude, callous advances did get tiresome.” He smiled at Niara ever so fondly. “But she was worth it.”

She smiled adoringly back at him, and added, “Rusot was a crude, lewd ghoul, infinitely different from my three heroes who rescued me from him, time and again.”

Damar said, “It only took us days to realize that we must never let him near her, so we put him off at the next port.”

The President saw her smile radiantly at Damar, at all three, and was reminded of the Shakespearean line, “…the god of my idolatry.” He saw genuine love there, and shook his head in amazement. “I admit that I’m…astonished, but also relieved!”

“Relieved?” she asked. “Why that?”

He produced a feeble smile. “Because from the instant that I first saw you, I was dreading the awkward obligation of asking whether you were here against your will, and trying to figure out how to perform the probably-impossible task of rescuing you!”

The three Cardassian officials laughed good-naturedly.

The President still bore a slightly perplexed frown. “Although, I haven’t yet figured out how I’m going to explain all of this to the rest of the Federation!”