Title: The Never Ending Sacrifice: A Garak and Bashir Mystery
Authors: JA Ingram and Charlene Vickers
Contact: cjjingram@peoplepc.com and charlene.vickers@gmail.com
Series: DS9, Third installment of The Garak and Bashir Mysteries 
Rating: NC-17 
Codes: G/B
Summary: Third installment of the Garak and Bashir Mysteries. Garak is 
settling into his new role on Deep Space Nine and looking forward to 
formalizing his relationship with Julian Bashir. Problems arise after Garak 
begins to notice some inconsistencies and he starts to suspect that life 
isn't going to be handing him a happy ending after all. 

Author's Note: Charlene was the driving force behind Sinless, the second 
installment in this series, so I asked her to co-author Never Ending 
Sacrifice with me. Her stories featuring Julian have always impressed me. Her 
portrayal of him as being strong yet sensitive and masculine yet yielding is 
a theme she brings to every story she writes. I wrote the Garak moments, she 
wrote the Julian ones and we met in the middle when they came together. I 
want to thank her first off for her help and friendship. I also want to 
dedicate my part in this story to two other people: First, to Judith, a.k.a. 
OdoGoddess, whose expertise in Founder canon gave us many ideas for the plot 
of this story. It was much appreciated. Secondly, to Fred. He passed away 
while we wrote this story and I would like to take a moment out to remember 
him. IDIC, my friend. Into infinity.-Jen

Author's Note: I hate writing author's notes. I never have anything to say. 
Okay...thank you to Jen for creating the Garak and Bashir Mysteries, and 
thank you for writing Elim Garak so well. She has a knack of making the 
enigmatic, nebulous Elim Garak into a real, tangible, sympathetic character 
who still carries that air of mystery and dissimulation. She's also brilliant 
with plotting, and has a knack of kicking me in the arse from 2,222.22 miles 
away. I'd like to dedicate my part in this to Fred as well. I never met you 
in person, you old dawg, but I wish I had. -Charlene

******

Chapter One: Everything You Ever Wanted

******

He huddled under the thin blanket and willed himself not to shiver.

It wasn't because he was freezing in the cramped, dank, bitterly cold 
isolation chamber, he told himself, or even because he had been dragged away 
from his cell and pitched into the tank like a bale of hay. 

Simply put, Julian Bashir was terrified.

He had spent his first ten weeks in the camp trying to keep Enabran Tain 
alive long enough for him to complete the modifications to the life support 
module that would let them get a distress signal out to the Alpha Quadrant. 
Ten weeks of arguing with the man, fighting with him, forcing him to take the 
drugs Bashir had stolen from the Jem'Hadar. Ten weeks of praying Tain would 
finish the modifications before he died. Now Bashir had been locked away for 
almost a month, unable to steal or administer the drugs Tain needed to remain 
alive.

And Tain was their only hope. Kalenna, the Romulan pilot, had told him that 
her planet had given the Romulan prisoners up for dead. Bashir knew that the 
Klingons had suffered far too many losses to afford the luxury of a rescue 
mission. So it had to be the Cardassians or the Federation, but without 
Tain's transmitter there was no way to let either know they had even been 
captured. And if Tain didn't survive long enough to finish it, they'd likely 
spend the rest of their short lives in this prison.

The only escape is death, the Hadar First had said.

He wasn't about to let that happen.

As he looked up at the patch of light shining through the hole in the steel 
door, he wondered idly if anyone on Deep Space Nine had noticed the 
substitution. Nobody had told him that a shapeshifter had replaced him, of 
course, but after meeting General Martok it didn't take a genetically 
enhanced genius to figure it out. Perhaps Odo had noticed, or maybe Garak...

He sighed. Tain kept repeating that Garak would come for him if only he could 
get a message out. 'Garak will find us', he kept saying, as if it were a 
foregone conclusion that the man Tain exiled and almost let die from the wire 
would drop everything and run to save him. He couldn't not come, Tain had 
said, but he had never said why, and Julian wondered what hold the old man 
thought he had on Garak.

No, what scared him the most wasn't dying here. His greatest fear was that 
his very survival depended on two men he couldn't trust. 

Not for the first time, he wished that he could have allowed himself to 
become closer to Garak. He'd wanted to get to know him better when they'd 
first met, had even thought about approaching him - but at the time it had 
seemed impossible. The tailor was a sharp man, a deviously intelligent former 
operative who wouldn't have allowed himself to initiate a relationship with 
Bashir without investigating him thoroughly. It likely wouldn't have taken 
Garak more than a few days to learn about his enhancements, and then where 
would he have been? Would Garak have tried to blackmail him? Would he have 
told Sisko in hopes Bashir would become an exile dependent upon him? No, he 
had thought: no matter how attractive the Cardassian was, no matter how much 
he longed to know him as more than just a casual friend, he could never cross 
that line.

Or that was what he had told himself when he was safe, warm, and comfortable. 
Now Bashir lay in an isolation cell in a prison in the depths of Dominion 
space, wondering if the man he had never trusted enough to let into his life 
was his only hope. Maybe Garak cared enough about Tain enough to risk his 
life on a rescue mission, but he doubted Garak would bother if he had been 
the sole prisoner.

After all, who was Julian Bashir to Elim Garak?

******

"Have you asked him yet?"

"No."

"Do you want me to ask for you?"

Garak gave his lover a withering glare. "I am perfectly capable of asking the 
man myself, Julian."

Julian shrugged. "I was just offering. Besides, it's been over a month since 
we announced our engagement and you've seen him how many times since then and 
you haven't asked him yet."

Garak gritted his teeth. "I'll ask him today."

"After the staff meeting?"

He sighed. "Fine."

"You're sure?"

"Yes!" Garak said, irritated. "You're going to make us late."

Julian hurried ahead of Garak as they walked toward Ops. "You're just mad 
because you don't want to do it."

"I want to do it, Julian. I just..."

The doctor looked at him curiously. "Just what?"

"I just have no idea how to...go about it," Garak admitted reluctantly.

"And you kept saying I had cold feet," Julian snorted.

"I don't have cold feet! I just-!"

"Doctor, Garak."

Garak looked at Odo as he walked past them into the conference room. "Good 
morning, Constable."

"Morning, Odo." Julian smiled.

The changeling nodded at them both then took his seat at the table. Julian 
turned to Garak and whispered, "Go ask him."

"Not...now," Garak said hesitantly. "After the meeting."

"You're sure?"

Garak rolled his eyes. "Yes, Julian, I'm sure. Now may we please go sit 
down?"

"Yes, gentlemen, can we? And I would prefer we do it sooner than later."

Julian and Garak looked behind them to the captain who was staring at them 
with a slightly disapproving expression on his face.

"Sorry, sir," Julian apologized; they took their places next to one another 
at the conference table as the rest of the senior crew filed in for the 
morning meeting.

As the staff meeting got under way, Garak looked around the table in 
fascination. He still had a hard time believing any of this was really 
happening. Just 115 days ago he was a Cardassian exile who was reduced to 
knocking on the door of his one friend on the station so he could borrow the 
doctor's replicator. Now, not only was he a member of Captain Sisko's staff, 
but he and Julian were going to be married.

If someone had told him that he'd be sitting here three months ago, he would 
have accused them of being insane. It was strange how drastically life could 
change from one simple decision. What if he had just gone to the Replimat 
that night? None of this ever would have happened. Absolutely mind-boggling, 
Garak mused.

Major Kira was giving her report and Garak looked at her uniform critically. 
She had given birth just two weeks ago and was quickly getting her figure 
back but still had to wear the modified maternity uniform which was rather 
unflattering. Perhaps after the meeting he'd offer to don his tailor persona 
once more and design something a little less hideous for her to wear. They 
weren't really friends but if he had to look at her in that burnt orange and 
crimson monstrosity much longer he would tear his own eyes out.

Garak sighed. And to think that he had once thought the Starfleet uniforms 
were bad. For that matter, who could have predicted that eventually he'd be 
required to wear one himself? Not for at least another seven to ten months, 
he conceded silently, but as soon as his final hearing was scheduled he'd be 
given a rank comparable to the position he occupied now as a civilian 
contractor and his very own Starfleet uniform.

Oh joy.

And it was going to have a mustard yellow undershirt, he grimaced.

He had lobbied for the command burgundy, but technically his job was 
designated as tactical so he was stuck with the yellow that made him look 
sallow and slightly green.

The Starfleet officer assigned to his case told him that given his military 
background and expertise in intelligence and counter-intelligence, he would 
begin his rank as a lieutenant, the lowest grade comparable to his experience 
level. That at least was something to be grateful for. He also would not be 
required to go through the Academy. He was given exemption status because of 
his age and because he had already been a member of the Cardassian military. 
This had been especially welcome news to Garak. The idea of being the 
universe's oldest living cadet did not appeal to him in the slightest. He and 
Julian were going to be the same rank, yet another bonus, but it also made 
him even more determined to rise within the chain of command as quickly as 
possible.

The idea of his lover having to salute him and say 'sir' in bed was an 
extremely motivating concept. He hadn't had a whole lot of time to dwell on 
such pleasant daydreams, however.

A lot had happened since he and Julian had gotten back from Bajor after 
investigating the murder of a young woman named Kel Sinles. Odo had lost his 
shapeshifting ability for a time before getting it back the same day the 
Major gave birth to Miles and Keiko O'Brien's son, Garak had gone on an 
impromptu away mission into the past with Odo, Dax, and Captain Sisko, and 
the Cardassian-Klingon War was in full swing.

In the midst of all that were the numerous meetings and interviews with 
Starfleet Intelligence and Bajoran Social Services, as well as three criminal 
proceedings in which he was a key witness. Colonel Ranol, the military 
extremist turned drug kingpin, had been sentenced to 30 years in a Federation 
penal colony for trafficking followed by another 25 years on Bajor for the 
attempted assassination of one of the Bajoran civilian leaders. Krath Rushka, 
the (now former) wife of Representative Krath Milnar, had received 15 years 
in a Bajoran prison for her part in the conspiracy that led to the death of 
Kel Sinles. Hali Tafan, the woman who actually killed Sinles, had been found 
guilty of second-degree murder, conspiracy, evidence tampering, assault, and 
a slew of other charges that had earned her a life sentence without the 
possibility of parole.

He'd hardly seen Julian in more than a month. He certainly hadn't been able 
to find time to help plan their wedding. Despite Julian wanting to get 
married quickly without a long engagement to worry about, it was not turning 
out that way. The closest they had come to scheduling an actual date was some 
time after he was officially a member of Starfleet, which meant they might 
have to wait as long as a year. If his schedule remained this hectic, even 
with a year to plan, he'd still be behind on his share of the wedding 
preparations. Meanwhile, every time Garak had found just a little time to 
rest and relax, Julian came up with yet another thing for him to do.

If he didn't know better he'd swear that Julian was trying to drive him to 
distraction.

He stifled a yawn as Chief O'Brien started his report on station repairs and 
maintenance schedules. Oh well, he thought, better get used to it. This is 
your life now. They had gotten word last week that his Federation Citizenship 
might be approved within the next month or so; now all he had left was two 
dozen more PADDs of information to fill out before he was officially a member 
of Starfleet.

It wasn't an exaggeration.

Every spare moment of the day and night had been spent tapping on a damned 
PADD. Between that and his duties as a civilian contractor with Starfleet 
Intelligence, there were the staff meetings, the briefings on Cardassian 
military strategy, and the psychological and medical evaluations needed to 
prove he was fit for duty.

To make matters worse, Julian was still insisting that they maintain separate 
quarters until after the wedding. He had spoken with Julian's mother a few 
times by subspace but they had yet to meet face to face. Personally, Garak 
thought that what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, but he understood that 
maintaining separate living space was a way of honoring her beliefs so he 
didn't say anything.

Also, there was the matter of Lewin and Kela's first visit to the station 
next month. It was the policy of Bajoran Child Services to have the 
prospective family spend time together before the final adoption proceedings. 
He had moved into the married quarters that Julian and he were going to share 
after the wedding with the intention of using his spare time to get the 
children's rooms ready but he hadn't had any time yet. He hadn't even had 
time to make them any clothes since he sold his shop. This weekend he 
intended to take some time off, barring any unexpected complications such as 
time-travel, hostile alien forces, or oversexed pheromone-spewing women 
overrunning the station and wreaking havoc.

Again, not an exaggeration.

Every once in a while, though, Julian would come over to his quarters and 
spend at least part of the night making it all worthwhile. They rarely even 
had time for their lunches anymore, but at least once a week Julian would 
come to his door with a smile and an armload of take-out from one of the 
restaurants on the Promenade and he'd set all of his worries and 
responsibilities aside for a while. Soon, very soon, they'd be past all of 
this and life would settle down.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

On this station one could never be sure.

"Mr. Garak, do you have anything to add to Mr. Worf's report?"

Garak looked up at Sisko and pasted a friendly smile on his face, which he 
hoped would give the Captain the impression he had been listening to every 
word that was said. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't 
noticed that the Chief had sat down and Worf had finished talking about the 
upgrades he'd made to the Defiant. "No, sir. The only thing I have to report 
is that Starfleet Intelligence is asking me to continue monitoring 
transmissions and deciphering code from the sector of the Gamma quadrant 
where the Cardassian ships disappeared even though nothing has come of it. 
Just some faint garbled transmissions, which for all we know could be from 
something as innocuous as an old Cardassian planetary survey." Garak rubbed 
the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Frankly, there's nothing out there and 
Starfleet knows it but they want us to keep looking just in case."

"It's not like you to give up so soon, Garak," Julian said pointedly. "If 
Starfleet thinks there's even the slightest chance of finding survivors we 
need to keep looking."

"Julian's right, Garak," Commander Dax broke in. "We don't know what happened 
to them. They could still be alive."

"Doubtful." Garak shook his head. "Even my handler at Starfleet Intelligence 
sent down word that they are officially closing the investigation next week. 
I can't see the use in monitoring the transmissions if there's no ongoing 
investigation. Frankly, Captain, my services would be put to much better use 
if I just concentrated on the work I'm doing concerning the 
Cardassian/Klingon hostilities. I've also been monitoring some interesting 
communiqués from the Romulans. This-" and he waved his hand over his PADD, "-
garbled mess is a waste of time."

"I tend to concur with Mr. Garak," Worf said. "We need to concentrate all of 
our resources on the situation between the Klingon Empire, Cardassia and the 
Romulans and what role the Dominion has in all of it."

"I'm still conducting weekly blood screenings for all the crew and there's no 
sign that any Founders have infiltrated the station, Captain," Julian said. 
"It could be that they've decided to concentrate their focus elsewhere for 
the time. If that's true, then it means the security measures we've put into 
place are working. I can see Commander Worf's point but I'd still like to see 
us try to find those survivors if there are any. It just - I hate to give up 
so soon, sir."

Sisko paused for a minute before speaking. "As much as I hate to concede 
defeat, Doctor, we have more important matters that concern us now. Keep 
monitoring the signals for a few more days and I'll talk to Starfleet 
Headquarters about rescinding the order early. Commander Worf, try to boost 
the signal by taking the Defiant out as close as you can to our listening 
post; maybe something will come out of it. In the meantime, Mr. Garak, 
consider this assignment low priority until we come up with something a 
little more substantial. Does anyone have anything more to add to the 
meeting?" He looked around the table carefully. "In that case, I would like 
to be the first to congratulate Mr. Garak on becoming a citizen of the 
Federation."

Garak looked up in surprise.

Sisko continued with a smile, "I was sent word this morning that your 
application was finally approved and that we can schedule the swearing-in 
ceremony at our earliest convenience. I hope you don't mind me taking 
liberties, but I thought that this Saturday would be perfect."

Garak looked to Julian who was grinning from ear to ear, then turned back to 
the captain. "I don't know what to say. This is...I just...does this have any 
effect on the scheduling of the final hearing for my Starfleet commission?"

"I imagine it will," the captain nodded. "Command wants to see you in a 
uniform just as badly as we do. When I asked about your hearing they told me 
it was already on the fast track. You'll be wearing tactical gold before you 
know it."

Julian reached under the table and squeezed his hand silently.

"At least now you won't be able to bitch about the uniforms any more," 
O'Brien snickered. "You're gonna be stuck in 'em with the rest of us."

"They're starting to grow on me," Garak conceded. "Of course, I will be 
having mine altered a bit. A little fine tailoring goes a long way."

"Never thought I'd see the day when I'd have to salute a Cardie," O'Brien 
said without rancor. "I still say they should have made you an enlisted man. 
I could use someone to swab the lower pylons."

"I'll keep that in mind." Garak said in a mildly threatening tone.

"So I guess this means you'll be moving up the date of the wedding?" Jadzia 
asked with sparkling eyes.

"Looks like it," Julian said, giving Garak a pointed look and thrusting his 
chin toward Odo slightly.

Garak sighed. Damn.

"Well, with that out of the way, let's bring this meeting to a close. Have a 
good day, everyone," Sisko said as he got up from his chair.

As the meeting began to break up, Julian poked him a little. "Do it now 
before you lose your nerve."

Garak tightened his mouth in a thin line. "You say that as if you think I'm 
afraid of him or something."

"Are you going to do it or what?" Julian said, not taking the bait.

"Oh, very well," Garak snapped peevishly. The things one does for love. 
"Constable, a moment please?"

"What is it, Garak?" Odo asked in his patented growl which could mean he was 
bored, irritated or both. Garak guessed that in this case it was both.

"I...have to ask you something," he said reluctantly.

"What is it?" It wasn't said as a question as much as it was an implied 
accusation.

"Are you familiar with Terran nuptial practices?"

Odo stepped back a little and looked at Garak as though a bug were crawling 
on his uniform. "No. Should I be?"

Garak glanced over at Julian who was holding his thumb up in some absurd 
attempt at encouragement. He turned back to Odo. "Apparently, they require 
that you provide a witness to the...event."

"Like in a court proceeding?" Odo asked dubiously.

"I believe it's more along the lines of the second at a duel," Garak answered 
with a grimace. "Julian informs me that if we are to be married that I must 
ask someone to become something called the 'vested man'."

"I would have to wear a vest?" Odo asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Everyone does, I think. He showed me a holoimage once. I believe the witness 
wears one of a different color or something." Garak shook his head and rolled 
his eyes. "Anyway, Julian has asked the Chief to be his vested man."

"And that has what to do with me exactly?" Odo asked slowly.

"I'm supposed to ask someone as well."

"You want me to be a witness at your marital duel?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Garak gritted his teeth. "I'm supposed to ask a friend to...wear the vest."

"And you're asking me?" Odo looked at him as though he were insane.

Which I will be if I have to go through this much longer, Garak thought to 
himself. "Frankly, yes."

"We're not friends."

"I know."

"In fact," Odo said coolly, "we're probably the furthest thing from friends."

"I realize this."

"So why me?"

"Because," Garak said as patiently as he could, "other than Julian, you and 
Quark are the only two men I know who I could even remotely consider 
'friends'."

"Me and Quark?" Odo repeated. "And of the two of us I'm the least likely to 
ask for payment for services rendered as a 'vested man', correct?"

"I considered that fact, yes."

Odo paused, "Are any weapons involved in this nuptial duel?"

Garak thought about that for a moment. "I don't know. Possibly." He scratched 
behind his ear, "I'll have to ask. I doubt it, though; Terrans are a lot less 
bloodthirsty than Klingons."

"And what exactly do the duties of the vested man entail?" Odo ventured.

Garak glanced over to Julian who was in an animated conversation with Lt. 
Commander Dax. Just when he could use some real help...

"I don't have all the details but I believe that you are supposed to stand 
beside me and hand me a piece of jewelry."

"Jewelry." Odo took a moment to absorb that information. "Do I have to 
purchase it myself?"

"No. Julian buys my ring and I buy his," Garak answered.

"Why can't you buy your own?" Odo asked.

"I don't know. I think it's a gift like a Bajoran betrothal earring."

"And I take this ring and hand it to you. Then what?"

"I hand it to Julian."

"Why can't you just hand it to him all by yourself?" Odo asked in confusion.

Garak blinked. "I'm not really sure. It must have some cultural significance 
I'm not familiar with. It does seem rather inefficient, though."

"So that's all there is to it. I hand you a ring that you're just going to 
hand to the doctor. Does he then pass it to Chief O'Brien?"

"No," Garak said, searching his memory. Julian had seemed a bit fuzzy on the 
details himself and he hadn't been able to research it on his own. "He keeps 
the ring I give him and then the Chief hands him the ring he purchased for me 
and after we repeat some ancient phrase or another, we wear the rings to 
signify that we are legally bonded."

"Nothing else?"

"I believe the vested man is required to give a speech or something and then 
there's some sort of ceremony between both the vested witnesses."

"What kind of ceremony?"

"Well, you have to place a tourniquet around Chief O'Brien's leg, I believe."

"I thought you said there were no weapons used in the ceremony," Odo asked 
sharply.

"There aren't as far as I know."

"Then is there a ritual bloodletting or something?" he asked.

"No, they just place the tourniquet around the witness's thigh for decorative 
purposes, I believe," Garak answered. "Odo, I really have to get to work. Do 
you want to be the vested man or should I ask Quark?"

Odo appeared to consider it. "Very well, I will be a witness, I suppose. I 
will ask around and research the matter myself and get back to you on the 
particulars."

"Good." Garak breathed a sigh of relief. He'd had wounds that were less 
painful.

"Good day, then," Odo said, nodding as he moved toward the turbolifts.

"Good day," Garak returned grimly. If planning for the rest of this wedding 
was this excruciating he was going to suggest that they just elope.

"Did he say yes?" Julian said, walking over to him with a cheery grin.

"He did," Garak answered glumly.

"Great! I have to go to the Infirmary." He gave Garak a flirtatious wink. 
"I'll see you later then."

Garak perked up. Perhaps today wouldn't be a total loss. "I can't wait."

As Julian headed off Garak walked over toward Commander Dax's console.

Maybe he'd ask the captain if he could start his weekend early. He smiled 
slightly; he had a feeling that the day was only going to get better from 
this point on.

******

He startled awake as the door to his cell suddenly clanged open. "Get in," 
the Jem'Hadar Second snarled; Bashir rolled backwards just in time to avoid 
being crushed by a falling General Martok.

The Second threw in a dermal regenerator and a bone knitter. "Fix him. I will 
return in thirty minutes." The door slammed shut.

Blinking his sleep away, he sat up and assessed Martok. His left ankle was 
bent backwards unnaturally, and he was (as far as he could tell in the dim 
light) holding his right arm at an uncomfortable angle. "I see the shoulder 
and the leg," he told Martok. "Is there anything else?"

"My jaw," the Klingon replied through clenched teeth.

Bashir felt for the fracture then went to work on the mandible, holding the 
bone in the correct position as he ran the knitter over it. "Any news?" he 
whispered after he tested the bone and found it sound.

Martok glanced up at the window in Julian's door, then nodded. "Tain's still 
alive," he said under his breath.

Bashir nodded. "I have to set the leg. Prepare yourself."

The general grunted but didn't flinch as Bashir yanked on his foot to 
straighten the leg, then twisted his ankle until the bones were aligned. He 
must be in agony, Bashir thought as he ran the knitter over the fracture, but 
trust a Klingon to ignore the pain and let the doctor get on with the job. 
"And the work?" he asked quietly.

"Kalenna tried to complete it," Martok replied, "but her wiring was wrong, or 
something...I don't have a clue-"

Bashir smiled in the dark.

"-but Tain thinks the message was garbled," Martok continued. "He's working 
on repairing it as we speak."

That was good news, but he needed to get a message to the station. "Tell 
Tain," he whispered into the general's ear as he moved up to his shoulder and 
palpated the injury, "to include in the message the fact that I've been 
replaced. God knows what that Founder's been up to."

"I'll tell him," Martok said, unable to hold back a groan as Bashir popped 
the head of his right humerus back into the shoulder joint. "He's still 
muttering that Garak will come, that he has to come. Who is this Garak, and 
who is he to Tain?"

Julian ran the knitter over the shoulder (for all the good it would do; he 
really needed a cartilage regenerator to repair the damage). "A friend. He 
lives on the station. How long have I been in here?" he asked as he looked up 
at the window.

"Twenty-eight days."

He snorted. "Seems longer than that." He was about to ask something else when 
the door opened again. 

"Get up," the Second snarled at Martok as another Hadar snatched the tools 
from Bashir.

Martok rose to his feet, his face fixed into a sneer as he glared at the 
Second, then passed by him into the hallway. The Second returned his glare 
before slamming down a bowl and cup in front of Bashir.

He slowly reached for the food, famished but not willing to admit any 
weakness to the Hadar. As the door closed behind Martok and as Bashir began 
to shovel in the tasteless gruel, he thought of Garak, and hoped Tain's 
message would get through.

******

The Defiant was running well that day and the Romulan cloaking device was no 
longer causing as serious a power drain on the energy reserves as it had been 
before he made the repairs.

As Worf piloted the ship toward the listening post, he subdued the bit of 
frustration he felt at having to carry out such a fruitless task. Personally, 
the loss of the Cardassian soldiers didn't really disturb him that much. War 
was war, and in battle lives were lost. If they had been taken hostage by the 
Dominion, so be it. It wasn't his call to make, however. He had his orders 
and he'd carry them out to the letter. That didn't mean he'd have to like it.

Cardassians had no honor, Worf thought to himself not for the first time. 
Garak was the closest thing he'd seen to an honorable Cardassian and even 
that was questionable at times. He still found the idea of Garak becoming a 
member of Starfleet more than a little disturbing. Again, though, this was 
his personal opinion and not something he cared to share with anyone, not 
even Jadzia. She knew, of course, that he wasn't enthused about having to 
work with Garak on a daily basis, but she was convinced that once the former 
spy donned the Starfleet uniform they would become brothers-in-arms.

Perhaps. He would show Garak the respect he deserved and earned, but it would 
always bother him somewhat. When Jadzia pointed out to him that many of his 
fellow officers had similar feelings about working with a Klingon, he had 
said nothing. There was a difference, he argued internally. He had been 
raised on a Terran colony by humans. Yet, he was still a Klingon and very 
proud of his heritage. Jadzia had even accused him on more than one occasion 
of being a conservative version of a Klingon, all honor and nobility and no 
passion: he was what he was, though. Garak, however, was a Cardassian raised 
by Cardassians. A man loyal to the military state for many years, and despite 
being an exile he had proved over and over again through the years that he 
still loved his home and would die for it.

That a man could suddenly change his mind and accept a new home and adopt new 
loyalties so quickly bothered him. It didn't seem, for lack of a better word, 
honorable. He understood the concept behind it; Garak was supposedly in love 
with Dr. Bashir but he didn't quite accept that. He loved Jadzia but he 
wasn't going to declare himself a Trill and be fitted for a symbiont. If 
Garak was doing this then there had to be some sort of dubious reasoning 
behind it. If he was genuine, then he still wasn't comfortable with it.

A man who could change his loyalties so quickly and completely was not to be 
trusted.

As he neared the listening post, he began to pick up a message. He looked at 
it. It was a text in the same code Garak had unsuccessfully attempted to 
decipher earlier, but this one wasn't garbled. The signal wasn't very strong, 
but it was just strong enough. He increased the gain on his sensors and 
downloaded the message. Suddenly, it cut off.

Worf attempted to regain the signal, but it was gone.

After an hour of attempting to figure out a way to recapture the signal he 
turned the Defiant back toward Deep Space Nine.

He couldn't read what the code said, but he had a feeling it wasn't a 
Cardassian planetary survey as Garak had facetiously hypothesized.

Whatever it was, he had to get it back to the station as quickly as possible.

******

"What does it say?"

Garak looked at Sisko, who was examining his reaction to the transmission 
curiously. He hadn't bothered to hide his shock to the other men. Perhaps 
this meant he was beginning to trust them, he thought muzzily, then pushed 
the thought aside. It wasn't the time for introspection.

Tain.

Tain was alive and a prisoner of the Dominion.

"It's...from Enabran Tain, my mentor from the Obsidian Order," Garak said 
slowly. "He sent it specifically to me."

"Are you sure?" the Captain asked. "I thought he died in when his ship was 
destroyed."

"If anyone could survive under those circumstances it would be Enabran Tain. 
This code is only known to two people and Tain is the one who taught it to 
me." He swallowed, remembering the last time he had seen the complex code. He 
was ten years old and sitting in Enabran Tain's office. He made Garak 
practice the symbols over and over again until he dreamed in code.

He hadn't seen those particular symbols in forty years, but he could read the 
message as easily as he could read Kardasi or Standard.

"What does it say?" Worf asked in his low baritone.

Garak took a breath. "It says, 'ALIVE', and then it is repeated several times 
as though the message was in a loop or stuck."

"That's all?" the captain asked, his eyebrows knitting together in deep 
thought.

"No." Garak's eyes grew hard. "At the tail end there is some garbling and 
then the message clears up again. It says that a Founder has replaced someone 
here on the station."

"Who?" Worf asked in a near growl.

"It just reads, 'Founder-DS9-Replaced-' then nothing." Garak looked Worf in 
the eye. "You couldn't get any more of the message?"

"I remained at the listening post for more than an hour but there was 
nothing," Worf said gravely. He turned to the captain, "I will go back. 
Perhaps there is more to the message."

"No," Garak said, his expression troubled as he turned the information over 
and over in his mind.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Worf asked, his face dark with outrage. "This Tain 
is your teacher. You would just abandon him?"

"I have no intention of abandoning anyone, Mr. Worf," Garak responded coldly. 
"I do, however, believe in using my brain. If you rush off again to that 
listening post in the Defiant you'll alert the Founder that you've discovered 
something and that could create a scenario which could lead the Dominion to 
initialize a pre-emptive strike."

"What do you want to do, Garak?" Sisko asked.

Garak turned toward the captain. There was genuine respect behind the way the 
question was asked. These humans never ceased to surprise him. "This message, 
even though it is only four words long, tells us several things about our 
current situation. First, Tain is alive and being held somewhere with a 
member of our crew. We know this because he wouldn't have wasted what little 
resources he had by placing it in the message if it wasn't true. Second, we 
know the Founder is a member of the senior staff." 

"How can you surmise that from a message that consists only four words?" Worf 
asked skeptically.

Garak raised an eyeridge at the Klingon while adopting the expression of a 
professor speaking to a particularly dim student. "It's a question of tactics 
and logic. If you were a Founder and could emulate anyone on this station, 
you would choose someone who was within the power structure. This means that 
the Founder is either you, me, the captain, Kira, the Chief, or Julian."

"You're leaving off Odo and Dax," Sisko pointed out.

"Founders won't harm their own and Odo would not allow a fellow changeling to 
infiltrate his offices without a fight. Commander Dax is a Trill. Founders 
seem to have trouble understanding the complexity of her species," Garak 
answered brusquely. "I know I'm not a Founder, obviously. You know it as well 
because I translated this message for you. Worf brought the message back so 
I'm willing to take a gamble and say he has not been replaced."

"And me?" Sisko asked, eyeing Garak warily.

"For some reason the Prophets have a particular attraction to you," Garak 
said after a pause. "I suspect that if a Founder attempted to kill or capture 
you they would intervene as they have in other situations."

"I understand what you are saying and your logic appears sound," Sisko said, 
his voice hard. "Then again, if you were the Founder you'd, of course, come 
up with a logical reason as to why I should trust you. I don't know that you 
really translated that message correctly, now do I?"

"True," Garak said easily, "Just like I can't be sure the Prophets haven't 
decided to abandon you or just like neither one of us can be sure that Mr. 
Worf didn't fake his flight path and pretend to collect this text stream from 
our listening post."

Worf looked from one man to the other, his eyes guarded. He reached for the 
ceremonial blade in his sash and cut open his hand, allowing the blood to 
drip to the floor. He held out his hand to both men. "I am not a changeling." 
He handed the blade to Garak, eyeing him with distrust. "Prove yourself."

Garak met Worf's gaze steadily. Without breaking eye contact, he took the 
blade and sliced open his hand. He resisted the urge to flinch and showed him 
the wound. "Not red like yours, Mr. Worf, but still blood. Disappointed?"

Worf didn't answer him, instead turning his gaze to the captain. Garak held 
out the blade silently.

Sisko looked at them both for a long moment then took the proffered weapon, 
cutting into the fatty part of his palm. He hissed, "Damn," holding up his 
hand for a moment then walking around to his desk to open the bottom drawer. 
He hauled out a small first-aid kit and tossed out a box of gauze after 
grabbing a few for himself. "Do me a favor and try not to bleed on the 
carpet."

The men staunched their wounds as the captain passed around the small dermal 
regenerator. "Well, since we've settled that, now what?"

"We surmise who is the most likely candidate to be the Founder from our 
suspect pool," Garak answered, rubbing the red, itchy skin where the cut had 
healed. 

"The major gave birth two weeks ago," Sisko answered first out. "A Founder 
couldn't gestate and give birth to a human infant, I suspect."

"Two weeks is long enough for her to have been replaced," Worf argued.

Sisko considered that. "Still, Dr. Bashir and Chief O'Brien seem to be the 
most logical targets for the Founder to choose from. Dr. Bashir conducts the 
blood screenings and the Chief has access to every system on the station."

"It's not Julian," Garak said in a voice that was hard and definite.

"Garak, we have to keep an open mind..." Sisko began.

"It's not Julian," Garak repeated. "I know because-" he flushed slightly, "-
in our intimate moments together Julian has proven time and time again that 
he is very human."

"Oh," Sisko said simply, averting his eyes.

"I do not understand." Worf frowned. "What do you mean he has proven 
himself?"

Garak rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. Klingons. "He has semen and 
sweat. I've seen and 'examined' both of those fluids personally."

"Oh." Now it was Worf's turn to be embarrassed, not to mention a bit green 
around the gills.

Sisko cleared his throat nervously. "I don't doubt that you truly believe the 
doctor is himself, but other than those particular...'fluids', have you ever 
seen him bleed?"

Garak gave him a scathing look. "Contrary to the rumors you may have heard, 
not all Cardassians need to bite chunks out of their partner's flesh in order 
to complete orgasm."

"I meant no disrespect," Sisko said calmly. "I merely have to ask; have you 
seen him bleed?"

Garak paused. "No."

"He's still on the suspect list."

"How many Founders do you know that have sweat or semen?" Garak argued. "If 
they can't bleed then obviously they can't do those things either."

"I'll admit that it's a low possibility that the doctor is the Founder, but 
it is still a possibility," the captain answered in a tone that would brook 
no further argument. "He stays out of the loop on this and that's an order."

"Understood," Garak said stiffly.

"And Jadzia?" Worf asked.

Sisko shook his head. "No one but us three can know about this. It stays 
between us."

Both men gave their assent.

"We are all in agreement that the doctor is a suspect, but not a likely 
candidate for being the Founder. He should be watched but we should 
concentrate our suspicions elsewhere. That means the Founder is either Kira 
or the Chief, with the Chief being the more likely of the two to have been 
compromised. How do you want to play this?"

Garak took a breath. "I have a few ideas about that, actually."

"Mind sharing them with the rest of us?" Sisko asked in a droll tone of 
voice.

"How long before the afternoon staff debriefing?"

******

He winced as yet another body slammed into the other side of the wall.

From what Bashir could figure out, the Jem'Hadar were practicing the fighting 
moves they'd learned during their contests with Martok and the other Alpha 
Quadrant inhabitants. From what he had heard, though, it seemed that although 
the Hadar were able to pick up the physical aspects of the combat - the 
parries, the feints, the attacks - quickly, they didn't seem to be able to 
absorb the theories behind them. The Hadar didn't think during battle, didn't 
make decisions on their own; they depended on the Vorta to direct them. 

Their opponents didn't share that disadvantage, though, and that was the 
Hadar's greatest weakness. Every Alpha Quadrant soldier the Hadar would meet, 
whether Klingon, Cardassian, Federation, or even Romulan, knew that he or she 
might be called upon to lead a charge or even a battle in lieu of orders from 
commanding officers. Alpha Quadrant soldiers were taught strategy from the 
very first day they joined the military - even earlier for Klingons - and 
inculcated in every lesson of obedience and discipline was the caveat that 
one day the soldier might be called upon to lead, possibly in the most 
unexpected circumstances.

Bashir suspected that General Martok had noticed that weakness the first day 
he had walked into the ring to face a combatant. But there was something else 
Bashir had noticed: Martok was much less disciplined in the ring than a 
Klingon in battle would normally be. Had Martok altered his style of battle 
simply to avoid as many injuries as possible so that he could one day escape? 
Or was his real intent to delude the Hadar into thinking that Klingon battle 
was based more on raw violence than on intellect and strategy? A sensible 
decision, Julian thought, if that were the case. If the Hadar saw Klingons as 
excessively violent and undisciplined, they'd be caught unawares in the heat 
of a real battle.

He pushed himself to his feet. It was time for his walk: three times a day, 
he circled his cell for thirty minutes. He hoped the activity would keep his 
leg muscles from atrophying, a common complaint of prisoners in solitary 
confinement. Luckily, the guards didn't seem to care. Four steps along one 
wall, three along the next, then four, then three again. It wasn't a walk in 
the Tuileries or in Hyde Park, but it kept the circulation going. Less than 
two days left, he told himself, and he'd be out of isolation.

He only hoped Tain was still alive when he got out. Then again, he didn't 
even understand why he had been kept alive in the first place. He was no 
warrior. If they were planning on replacing him, why keep him alive and in 
(relatively) good shape? Why not just space him?

It was a question he couldn't answer at the moment.

******

The staff all filed into the conference room at 1700 hours as usual. Garak 
pasted an indulgent smile on his face as he listened to the Chief and Julian 
argue about some holosuite adventure or another. He examined Miles O'Brien 
surreptitiously. If he was a Founder, then he was quite skilled in his 
ability to maintain his cover. Every gesture, every facial expression, every 
nuance of speech was Miles O'Brien to the T. He glanced over to Worf who was 
looking at Kira with a predatory gaze. The major was too wrapped up in her 
conversation with Dax to notice, and if one of them did catch his eye perhaps 
they would merely mistake his barely concealed anger for something more 
passionate.

Hopefully, Dax would assume it was directed toward her and not the Major or 
he suspected there would be a great deal of heated words exchanged between 
the lovers before he and Worf left on their mission.

Worf was obviously not a practitioner of the art of subtlety, he sighed.

"Are we boring you, Garak?" Julian asked, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"I'm just a bit tired, that's all," Garak said wearily. It wasn't a lie. He 
was exhausted in more ways than one.

Julian gave him a sympathetic look. "You've been working non-stop for weeks 
now. After the meeting why don't you go to bed and rest a bit? After the 
swearing in ceremony tomorrow, we should take the day off together."

"That sounds nice." Garak nodded. Oh my dear, if only I could, he thought 
glumly.

"All right, let's get down to business." Sisko said, calling the meeting to 
order. "First off, I have some rather unfortunate news. Mr. Garak, Commander 
Worf, you have both been ordered to report to Starfleet Headquarters on Earth 
for a summit on Cardassian and Klingon Military Tactics and Intelligence." He 
paused to address Garak. "I realize this means we have to reschedule your 
swearing-in ceremony; however, the Admiral assured me that they will take 
care of it while you're on Earth. I only regret we cannot be there with you 
to share in the occasion."

Sisko was an excellent actor, Garak applauded silently. Every word was said 
with conviction and just the right amount of reluctance. "Who will work on 
tracking and deciphering the encoded transmissions in my absence?"

"Lt. Commander Dax will take over," Sisko answered smoothly. 

It was the best way to keep her off of the Defiant and keep the communiqués 
safe at the same time. He had spent the afternoon teaching the Captain the 
symbols for each of the senior staff's names so if they did find Tain and 
their missing crewmember the Founder could be subdued. When Dax got the code 
she'd alert Sisko; he would be the only one who knew what it meant without 
letting anyone else, including Dax, in on the deception. 

"I spoke to Starfleet about your suggestion to drop the search for survivors 
and they agreed to rescind the order early," Sisko continued. "All the other 
codes should be familiar to Dax and anything she can't translate, we'll send 
to you at Headquarters on a scrambled subspace channel."

Dax nodded and looked at Worf sadly. He and Mr. Worf were in the same boat at 
least, he thought. Both of us have to lie to our partners and leave on a 
mission that may very well kill us both.

Sympathizing with a Klingon: Garak cursed himself. I truly have become a 
Federation romantic. Next, he'd be advocating 'harsh' prison sentences that 
consisted entirely of basket weaving and empathic therapy sessions.

What a hideous prospect.

"What about the doctor? Is there any way he can join Mr. Worf and me at the 
conference?" They had discussed this as well. Although he was positive that 
Julian was not the Founder, no one could know about the mission other than 
the three of them. It was the only way to minimize the risk to all of them, 
the doctor especially. No one thought he would leak the information, but on 
the off chance the Founder suspected Julian knew about the encoded 
transmission, he could be targeted. The Founders claimed to have never harmed 
a member of their own race, but other races were fair game and Garak was an 
expert in interrogation methods. Even a man as stubborn and strong as Julian 
Bashir could be broken when the right stimulus was applied.

Before Sisko could say anything however, Julian spoke up, "I'm sorry, Garak, 
I can't." He gave him a miserable look. "I have too much to do here and I 
can't take the time off. My staff is overwhelmed as it is. I had to get Dr. 
Okuna to agree to take a double shift just so I could have the weekend off 
with you."

Sisko gave Garak a hard look that spoke volumes.

Garak patted his fiancé's hand comfortingly, but internally he was cursing 
this turn of events. Sisko was now eyeing Julian with renewed suspicion. 
Under normal circumstances Julian was always up for an away mission or a 
conference. It probably didn't help his case that he had never refused to go 
on a mission with Garak. In fact, it was usually impossible to keep him away. 
Although the doctor didn't know it, his dedicated work ethic was actually 
making him more of a suspect in the eyes of both the captain and Mr. Worf. "I 
understand, my dear. Hopefully I can use the trip to Earth to catch up on 
some paperwork so when I get back we'll have more leisure time together."

"Captain, I have responsibilities here which supersede the-" Worf began. 

"Those were your orders and they came directly from the top," Sisko said, 
cutting him off firmly. "I don't like losing my two biggest tactical assets 
for a week or more either, but the good news is that you have orders to take 
the Defiant with you. The engineers at Headquarters have come up with some 
interesting modifications they want to make to its systems, which should come 
in very handy in the coming months. Also, and this is for Mr. Garak, your 
handler at Starfleet Intelligence contacted me personally and said that as 
long as you're down there they've decided to move up your commission hearing. 
When you come back, hopefully, you'll be wearing a uniform and answering to 
Lieutenant Garak."

The senior staff members all started giving Garak their hearty 
congratulations, and he pretended to be in good spirits at the news. He 
looked into Julian's brown eyes brimming with love and pride and felt his 
heart break.

He was lying to Julian.

Before they were involved he could have lied and felt no remorse. That was no 
longer the case now. Julian had become the first person he ever wanted to be 
truly honest to: no barriers, no lies, just himself. Now he was breaking that 
fragile trust.

It was for the greater good, he reminded himself, but it still hurt. It hurt 
much more than he ever expected it would.

Yet another thing for Tain to ridicule him about when they saw each other 
again, he supposed. Julian will understand. He's an officer. If it were he 
who had to be kept in the dark, Julian would do so without hesitation. 

He believed that now more than ever.

He had never noticed the doctor's darker instincts before they had become 
involved, but Julian had proved to possess a natural talent for obfuscation 
and manipulation. At times it was as though he were truly a Cardassian hiding 
in the smooth flesh of a human. He could be quite calculating at times.

He looked at his lover carefully. Thoughts of the odd conversations, 
forgotten events, and other inconsistencies nagged at him even as he 
attempted to dismiss them from his mind.

Unfortunately, his instincts won out over sentimentality. Sisko had a point, 
he thought, as he accepted the staff's individual congratulations. The doctor 
was in a key position and his method of testing changeling DNA was one of 
their greatest defensive weapons against the Dominion. As the CMO he could 
fake any blood test he wanted. He cursed himself for that unbidden thought. 
He trusted Julian. He loved him. If anyone knew he wasn't a Founder it was 
Garak.

Still, the paranoia that had been so deeply ingrained into his nature reared 
its black head. He had no choice, he reasoned. If he were to satisfy the 
suspicions of Commander Worf and the captain, he had to investigate Julian 
before he left for the mission tomorrow afternoon and prove his innocence. 
Once he showed them and himself that Julian was not a Founder, he could rest 
easy knowing the doctor was at least safe from the captain's scrutiny while 
he was gone.

The rest of the meeting went as usual and Worf and Garak were given their 
formal orders and told to leave at 1600 tomorrow.

It was bound to be a long and eventful journey for both of them.

******

Chapter Two: Especially the Lies

******

Garak sipped at his raktajino and eyed his icoberry torte with disinterest. 
He glanced over at Julian who was sitting on the couch reading reports and 
making notations on a PADD. His eyes skimmed over his face, the face that had 
become so familiar to him, and tried to compartmentalize his emotions as a 
Vulcan lover had once taught him to do.

He forced himself to look at Julian coolly and unemotionally and truly see 
him without the blush of affection he usually felt. 

Tall, lean, and lanky with features that could have easily been considered 
harsh if it weren't for his eyes that seemed to broadcast his every emotion, 
Julian leaned back in the couch and tucked a stylus behind his ear then 
yawned loudly. When he was relaxed at home like this, he could be almost 
unbearably endearing. He scrubbed his short, curly hair with his hand and 
blinked owlishly at his PADD. "Screw this, no more work for the day." He 
looked up at Garak with a smile. "Let's go out and do something tonight. I'm 
in the mood for something different. We've been working so hard lately that 
we deserve to have a night out, catch some dinner, then maybe we can rent a 
holosuite and I can take you on a quick virtual tour of San Francisco so you 
won't be completely lost when you and Worf arrive there."

Garak rubbed his temples and pretended to consider his suggestion for a 
moment. "That sounds good, but unfortunately I have to finish this report the 
captain wanted before I leave tomorrow. I'll be done in two hours at the 
most, though. Maybe after that we can do something together? You could come 
back later and we'll have a nice dinner, then you could spend the night 
here."

Julian gave him a rueful smile. "I hope after your conference things start 
slowing down a little around here. We can't even sit on the same couch 
together anymore because it seems like one of us is always working."

Garak got up from the desk and walked over to the couch then gathered Julian 
in his arms and held him.

"What's this all about?" Julian chuckled as he squeezed the Cardassian 
tightly.

"I love you," Garak said simply as he breathed in the man's spicy and 
familiar scent, temporarily abandoning his plan to remain detached.

Julian pulled away slightly and smiled. Laugh lines appeared at the corners 
of his brown eyes, making him all the more attractive. "Missing me already, I 
take it?"

"I'm not really looking forward to going on this trip without you," Garak 
said. It was the truth. He'd begun to think of Julian as his partner in all 
things, especially when it came to their investigations. The doctor had a 
quick mind and had proven on more than one occasion that he could be quite 
perceptive, almost to the point of ruthlessness, when the situation required 
it.

He forced his emotions back into their box. He needed to keep his focus. It 
had been a while since he had to think of Julian in such clinical terms, but 
the fact was he had no other choice but to manipulate the younger man for his 
own good. 

Julian looked down at his lap and then glanced back up at Garak. "I know. I 
don't like it either, but we're both soldiers, first and foremost, and there 
will be many times when we'll have to go our separate ways. The good news is 
that it's only for a week or so, and when you get back we can go ahead and 
plan the wedding. In fact, I have a little surprise for you on that note."

"Oh?" Garak tried to keep his tone casual.

"I talked to my mother on subspace earlier and she offered to come up to the 
station for an extended visit." He smiled. "I remember you saying once that 
the job of the grooms are to sit back and wait for the mothers to hand them 
their clothes and tell them where to stand, well..."

Garak grinned. "No more wedding planning?"

"Nope. All we have to do is sit back and be lazy." Julian grinned as he 
stretched his arms over his head and then draped them back over Garak's 
shoulders.

"When is she coming?" Garak asked, thinking of the sophisticated woman of 
Indian descent he had spoken to many times over the comm unit. Amsha Bashir 
was witty, urbane, and quite delightful in her mannerisms. He could see a lot 
of her in Julian.

"She'll be here when you get back," Julian answered with a raised eyebrow. 
"If what the captain said turns out to be true, when you get back we can go 
ahead and have the wedding. Why wait, right?"

Garak forced his smile to remain relaxed. Sisko had lied when he said his 
commission hearing had been moved up. Damn. Garak weighed the risk against 
telling Julian the truth with the possibility that he would be angry to see 
that not only wasn't Garak an official member of Starfleet, but that he had 
lied about his mission altogether. Oh well, Garak thought; if Julian plans 
the wedding and can still manage to accept why he had to leave, then they'd 
just get married ahead of schedule and damn the consequences. Married 
officers who served together in deep space were normally required to go 
through premarital counseling and then meet with a host of other requirements 
before they were issued their marriage license. Let Sisko deal with it, he 
thought. As long as Julian was happy he could care less about having to deal 
with yet more damned forms.

How these Federation people managed to grow into such a great power was 
beyond him. When exactly did anyone have time to actually explore space when 
every second of the day brought more paperwork to fill out? "Sounds good to 
me. Perhaps while I'm gone your mother can supervise the decoration of the 
children's rooms as well?"

"Like you have to ask!" Julian chuckled. "The first thing she wants to do is 
go down to Bajor to meet the kids, then she's going on a shopping spree. I 
told her she can stay here in your quarters if that's all right?"

"That's fine; after all, she will be family," Garak said easily. "On 
Cardassia, the whole family often lives in the same home, in-laws included. 
Having her here will be most welcome, even in my absence."

"Did you grow up with a big family?" Julian asked curiously.

Garak's smile faltered. "No."

Julian gave him an assessing look. "If you don't want to talk about it, I 
understand."

Garak warred internally with himself: logic battled with sentiment until at 
last he came to a decision. 

He could not share the truth with Julian about why he was really leaving. 
Perhaps, though, if he shared some of his past with him, Julian would later 
look back on this conversation and see that he really did trust him.

He took a breath. "I didn't have a family."

"You were an orphan?" Julian asked in surprise.

"Not...exactly."

"What does that mean, 'not exactly'?" Julian said, giving him a steady look.

"I was..." He tried to keep the shame out of his eyes, but he could tell 
Julian saw it anyway.

"Illegitimate?" Julian asked softly. The doctor was familiar enough with 
Cardassian traditions to know exactly what that meant. "But you had a 
position with the military. How is that possible?"

"It was a unique situation," Garak explained. "My birth documents had been 
forged and I was raised by my true father as his ward. He allowed me to get 
an education and make a place for myself within society but he never 
acknowledged my parentage."

"And your mother?" Julian asked carefully.

"She lived with us as well, as a servant. She never acknowledged me either."

Julian winced. "Your own parents treated you like you weren't theirs?"

"They felt it was for the best." Garak shrugged. "I had everything I needed; 
clothes, food, and an education. As long as society accepted that I was the 
child of some other couple who was taken in by my 'guardian', I could obtain 
a respectable position within society. Had they decided to, they could have 
sent me to the workhouses or treated me as a servant. The position of someone 
born under those circumstances is similar to that of an indentured servant or 
slave. They cannot even marry unless the master of their house gives them 
permission and all of their progeny belongs to the master of the home to sell 
or put to use in whatever manner they see fit."

"That's barbaric!" Julian exclaimed in disgust. "How could someone do that to 
their own child?"

"A child with no name," Garak pointed out. "There is no advantage to having a 
child who cannot continue your bloodline. Some are even put to death at the 
moment of birth if their father feels that they are of no use to them."

"Did your parents...hurt you?"

Garak paused. "No, not really. I understand now what they were grooming me 
for and the reasons they chose to raise me as they had. You have to 
understand, as cruel as this sounds to you, for a Cardassian, it is a matter 
of survival."

"How can you justify child abuse as a survival tactic?" Julian asked angrily.

"I'm not justifying anything. I'm merely explaining to you the reasoning 
behind it." He turned to the doctor and looked him directly in the eye. 
"You've heard the term 'culling the herd', have you not?"

"People are not animals, Garak," Julian bit out.

"We are all animals, my dear. Some of us have merely evolved beyond swinging 
from trees or crawling the earth." He took Julian's hand in his to soften the 
impact of his words. "When a Cardassian marries it is rarely for love. 
Marriage is a business contract negotiated so that both families may benefit 
from the union. Sometimes, the couple in question are incompatible so one of 
them, usually the male, takes a lover. If the male produces issue with his 
lover this could affect the position of the children born within the 
marriage. It also endangers the entire family by splitting inheritance issues 
and whatnot. It is for this reason that any children born of the husband 
outside of the marriage become the property of the man's wife to do with as 
she pleases. A woman who has children outside of the marital contract can no 
longer marry; she can only aspire to become a bound concubine with a limited 
legal status. Her lover is required to provide for her, but she forfeits all 
rights to her children."

"Who would do that?" The human's eyes were dark with anger.

"A woman of a poor house with no prospects might find the idea of living a 
life as a kept woman very attractive." He shrugged. "Again, it's a business 
arrangement and her children are either a liability or an asset. If she bears 
strong or unusually beautiful children, the matriarch of the clan may 'adopt' 
them as her own, claiming that she is their birth parent, or sell them to 
another house so that her own children will not be looked on with disfavour 
by her husband. The weak who are more of a burden than an asset are sent away 
or put to sleep."

"Like a sick animal?"

"Again," Garak said pointedly, "we are all just animals in the end. We just 
justify our actions by designating them with the terms 'good' or 'evil'. If 
an animal kills its young then it is merely nature correcting an imbalance, 
when a sentient being does so, they are seen as monstrous."

"That's horrible," Julian spat out in disgust.

"For the Great Houses, it is a matter of the survival of the fittest. Only 
the best of their bloodline may represent their House and those children are 
treated as if they were treasures beyond price. I have given you a harsh 
impression of my people, but contrary to what you may believe, in most homes, 
servants are treated with respect. Very few of them are outright abused." He 
smiled without humor. "A servant often has more power than his master when it 
comes to the running of the house. There are no secrets he is not privy to, 
no skill he does not possess, especially if he is good at his job. The 
servant has a vested interest in seeing that his master is kept safe and his 
home runs smoothly and a master knows that a mistreated servant can never be 
trusted again to prepare his food or wander through his house as he 
slumbers." He shook his head. "No, using their illegitimate offspring in this 
manner is not cruel as much as it is pragmatic. After all, who would you 
trust more to serve you; a stranger or your own kin whose survival is 
directly linked to your own?"

Julian absorbed this, his face dark and inscrutable, "Were you a servant?"

"Yes, but my job was not to peel tubers or mop floors." Garak leaned back 
into the cushions of the couch and forced himself to relax. "I was groomed to 
be my guardian's right hand, his most trusted, most loyal asset who could aid 
him in maintaining his power base but who could never succeed him. It was in 
this way that he kept me under his thumb. As long as I was dependent on him, 
I would never dare to overthrow him."

Realization dawned on Julian's face. He contemplated everything he had just 
learned then said, "I don't need you to finish the story, Garak."

He looked at the doctor. "Are you sure?"

Julian nodded. "You once told me that if you love someone you don't have to 
know all of the answers. You merely accept the person for what they mean to 
you."

"But you do have questions," Garak stated.

"I will always have questions, I just don't need you to answer all of them. 
Not anymore." Julian cupped Garak's cheek. "You are not those people. If you 
were, you wouldn't be adopting two children who have no family, no 'name'. 
I've seen how you look at Kela and Lewin whenever we visit. You are 
affectionate and loving, and you act that way with all of the orphans at the 
Ministry of the Forgotten Children." He bit his lip. "I always knew you felt 
a connection to them, but now I know why."

"Julian..." Garak stopped himself. Whatever he had started to say would have 
been a grave tactical error. He gathered his emotions and placed them back 
behind the wall he had built. This may be the man he loved more than life, 
but he had a duty to maintain his cover.

Julian kissed him, his lips gliding over Garak's own as their tongues 
caressed and made love to one another. Part of Garak tried to memorize every 
sensation he was feeling, every taste. He breathed in Julian's scent and 
lifted his hand so his could slide it in his short, dark curls. The rough 
texture of his lover's hair imprinted itself on Garak's fingertips. In the 
days to come, this memory would be all he had of him so the Cardassian made 
sure to relish it.

"Let's go to bed," Julian breathed against his lips.

Garak groaned. It had been more than a week since he'd lain with Julian. His 
shaft hardened to the point of near pain from just thinking about it. 
Gritting his teeth and forcing himself to remain strong, he said, "I want to, 
you know I want to, but I have to finish my work." He took at deep, 
shuddering breath and looked into Julian's passion-filled gaze. "Go do what 
you have to do, and when you get back we'll have the whole evening together. 
I'll go ahead and pack while you're gone so we'll have the morning as well."

Julian blanched. "I promised Miles I'd stop by in the morning to work out 
some bugs in the new holoscenario we were building. I assumed you'd be busy - 
I can cancel it."

"No," Garak said, more than a little disappointed as he caressed Julian's 
hand with the pad of his thumb. "You're right, I do have some other errands 
that need to be taken care of, especially if your mother is coming. I need to 
speak to Ajaz about the clothes I wanted to have made for when they visit 
next month. Maybe if he can finish them your mother can bring the clothes 
down to Bajor during her visit."

Julian grimaced in obvious frustration. "This is so unfair. Here we are, set 
to be married soon, and we can't even manage to take even a morning off to be 
together."

"Go do what you need to do and I'll finish this report and pack," Garak said, 
rising from the couch and pulling Julian up with him. "Go pick up a gift for 
your mother and the children, and then bring back some dinner. Nothing 
spicy," he requested, giving Julian a crooked grin. "I'm going to be trapped 
in a ship with Mr. Worf for several hours - the last thing I need is 
indigestion on top of having to deal with a Klingon."

"I'll hurry back," Julian promised, as he bent his head to give Garak a quick 
kiss. He headed for the door then paused. "Did you want me to pick something 
up for you? Something specific that you wanted to give my mother or something 
for your trip?"

He thought about it. "Just pick up a nice present your mother would like and 
sign the card from both of us. I trust your judgement."

"More like you don't feel like picking it out yourself." Julian waved. "I'll 
be back in a couple of hours. Comm me if you need anything." And then he was 
gone.

Garak returned to his terminal and began to punch in the codes to access 
Odo's security footage. 

As the screen filled with images of his lover heading toward the Promenade, 
Garak tried to suppress his turbulent emotions once again. If he was right 
and Julian was perfectly innocent, then he was betraying Julian's trust just 
do he could show the captain something he already knew to be true. It didn't 
matter that it was in Julian's best interest, it still made him uneasy. At 
worst....

Garak tried not to think about that as he continued to follow Julian's 
progress on his terminal.

When Sisko had called him into his office after the staff meeting he ordered 
Garak and Worf to keep surveillance on their suspects. Sisko would watch 
Kira, Worf was assigned to Chief O'Brien, and Garak was ordered to keep tabs 
on Julian.

Not liking it, but knowing it was necessary, Garak had agreed. Sisko was 
having dinner with Kira that evening; Worf and Jadzia had made plans to spend 
time with the O'Briens. Garak, for obvious reasons, was to watch the doctor 
and make note of any suspicious behavior. 

He watched Julian make his way into the various shops of the Promenade, 
watched him make small talk with some of the denizens of the station then pop 
into Garak's favorite pastry shop for a sinful looking dessert.

Relief flooded through the Cardassian as he accounted for every step his 
lover had taken since leaving his quarters. As he watched Julian juggle his 
packages with the huge bag of food he was carrying toward the turbolifts he 
allowed himself to voice the truth aloud. "All right, so maybe I wasn't just 
doing this to reassure Sisko." He laughed out loud suddenly, joy and relief 
flooding his body. "Thank you." Who he was thanking, Garak neither knew nor 
cared. 

He dismissed all the little nagging doubts that had plagued him and switched 
off the monitor then hurried out toward the turbolifts. The second the doors 
opened he lunged for Julian, knocking the packages out of his hands as he 
grabbed him in a bear hug and hauled him close.

"Garak! What the-mmph!" 

Garak kissed Julian hard, not caring that their packages were scattered on 
the floor or that some of their coworkers who were walking down the corridor 
had stopped to stare, some in open-mouthed shock and some snickering into 
their hands. When he released the doctor, Julian just stared at him for a 
moment in stunned disbelief and then scowled. "Dammit! It took me two hours 
to shop for all that stuff and now look at it!" He reached down and righted 
the bag of take out grimacing as some sauce leaked out and ran over his hands 
onto the floor. "Great." He gestured to the cake that was lying upside down 
in its packaging. "I hope you like the cake. Turns out having them decorate 
it was a big waste of time."

Garak just kept grinning down at him as the doctor gathered up the scattered 
packages.

"Are you just going to stand there grinning like an idiot or are you going to 
help me get this stuff into our quarters?" Julian asked irritably. He looked 
at the Cardassian suspiciously, "What's wrong with you? Have you been 
drinking or something?"

Garak laughed, a full-bodied laugh that was filled with joy and relief. 
Julian blinked in surprise and then began to chuckle as well. "What? What did 
I miss? Did something happen while I was gone?"

"Nothing happened." Garak said, bending over to help with the bags then 
offering Julian a hand up. "Nothing at all." 

Julian shook his head as they made their way to their soon-to-be shared 
quarters. "I swear, if I didn't know better I'd think you were going senile."

******

Julian licked the chocolate off of his fingers and grinned, "This was a good 
idea. Messy, but good."

Garak looked up at Julian from his side of the bed and offered him some of 
his noodles. "Bite?"

Julian leaned over and allowed Garak to feed him some of his Chinese food 
with the chopsticks. He opened his mouth and laughed as one of the noodles 
fell from his mouth onto his bare chest. "Damn it." He grabbed some napkins 
and scrubbed off the sauce. He glanced at the sheets. "We're going to have to 
change the bed. You've got sweet and sour sauce all over the place."

Garak grinned and reached over to grab Julian's hand, licking and sucking at 
his fingertips. "Mmm, I really was hungry, I suppose."

Julian rolled his eyes and reached for another carton. "Any more beef and 
broccoli?"

"Here," Garak said, holding out another white box. When Julian reached for 
it, though, he kept it out of his reach. "Ah ah." He reached in with his 
fingers and pulled out a sliver of tender meat and dropped in on his lover's 
tongue, allowing his fingers to linger so Julian could lick off the thin 
gravy.

Julian chuckled. "What has gotten into you tonight?"

"You don't remember?" Garak asked with a raised eyeridge.

"Oh, I remember," Julian said, scooting closer to Garak and pulling his chin 
close. He kissed him gently, his teeth nibbling at the Cardassian's lips 
before opening his mouth and delving inside.

Garak moaned. He could taste him, all of him. The flavors of the food 
combined with the sweetness of the chocolate cake and that unmistakable 
essence that was Julian Bashir. 

Garak swept the boxes out of the way and pulled Julian closer.

"You're making a mess," the doctor muttered against his lips then gasped as 
Garak moved on top of him. "We're going to get sticky."

"We'll take a shower," Garak growled as he licked and sucked his way down 
Julian's chest.

He licked and nibbled at Julian's flat, brown nipples, smiling as he heard 
his lover gasp, then wiggled his hips until his hardness was nudging the 
doctor's. "May I...?"

Julian reached up and grabbed the back of Garak's head, pulling him to him 
roughly then kissed him hard. When they broke apart, he said, "Let's get 
something straight right now: if you want to fuck me, Garak, you don't have 
to ask - just do it."

Garak groaned and reached for the lubricant they had used earlier in the 
evening. He quickly prepared them both then slid inside. "Oooooh, you feel so 
good."

The men began to thrust together, harder and harder, until they found the 
perfect rhythm. Julian clawed at Garak's back as he writhed beneath him, 
moaning in pleasure. Garak opened himself to the sensation of loving and 
being loved as he pounded harder and harder inside of the other man.

This is what he would miss the most, he thought muzzily as he felt his orgasm 
build. As soon as he got back he would make this man his, forever. Julian, as 
though he were reading his thoughts, began to gasp, "Oh god, I love you, oh 
god, oh god."

When Julian's body tightened and spilled that was all it took to send Garak 
over the edge. He shuddered and groaned on top of the other man when he felt 
the liquid heat of Julian's semen splash against him, then quieted before he 
rolled to the side. "Damn!" he hissed.

"What happened?" Julian asked looked up, then laughed as Garak tossed the 
broken chopstick off the bed. "See, now that's why you're never supposed to 
fuck on top of serving ware."

Garak grimaced and rubbed his hip. "I think I have a splinter."

Julian pressed Garak's shoulder, indicating he should lie on his stomach, and 
examined his butt cheek. "Not even a scratch, you big girl," he said before 
planting a kiss on the red mark.

"I'd quote the Chief and ask you to kiss my 'arse', as he calls it, but that 
seems redundant now," Garak joked, then said, "Ow!" when Julian smacked the 
aforementioned musculature. 

Julian sat up and looked at the sticky mess coating his stomach, thighs, and 
genitals. "This is the only part of sex I hate. Pass me a towel, would you?"

Garak reached for the towel on the floor beside the bed and began to hand it 
to Julian then stopped. He scooted toward him and began to wipe off his 
stomach slowly then, with his naked finger, he collected some of the semen 
from the head of Julian's cock and rubbed it between his fingers 
thoughtfully.

"What the hell are you doing?" Julian asked, looking at him strangely.

"Just thinking." Garak said as he wiped his fingers on the towel then 
finished cleaning off Julian before taking care of himself.

"I'm a little afraid to ask this, but what exactly were you thinking about?" 
Julian asked dubiously.

Garak paused to gather his thoughts. "How do you suppose Founders reproduce?"

"What?" Julian asked with a raised eyebrow. "Where did that come from?"

"I mean, they don't have semen, right? Without semen, how do they reproduce?"

"I have no idea," Julian said with a frown. "Maybe they just, I don't know, 
split in half or something."

"Well, if they don't have blood then they can't have semen, so does that mean 
they can't have...?" Garak let his voice trail off.

"Sex? Orgasms?" Julian shrugged. "I imagine they can if they want to. Odo has 
had sex before, I believe. I've never asked him. Also, from what I gather, 
the Great Link is a kind of sexual experience. They merge and share pleasure 
with one another. Is that what you want to know?"

"Actually, I was wondering if it was possible for a Founder and a humanoid to 
mate-reproduce." He looked at Julian, his face open and relaxed as he kept 
his tone casual. "Let's say that if Odo and the Major ever wanted to have 
children, could Odo generate sperm?"

"And you're asking this why?" Julian asked.

Garak shrugged. "She and Shakaar are on the outs and she's been spending more 
and more time with the Constable. Since giving birth to the O'Brien baby 
she's become very maternal. Just the other day she was talking about how 
'Yoshi' seems to recognize her. I'm wondering; if he chose to, could Odo 
father an infant of his own that was half Major Kira's?"

Julian wrinkled his brow as he considered Garak's statement. "This smacks a 
little too close to gossip for my tastes."

"Never mind then; just forget I said anything." Garak shrugged as he reached 
for the box of smashed chocolate cake then looked around for a fork. "I just 
thought that as a scientist you'd have an opinion on the matter."

"So this is purely a scientific discussion?" Julian asked as he handed Garak 
a fork then pinched a piece of ruined cake between his fingers and popped it 
in his mouth.

"Absolutely," Garak nodded.

Julian thought about it carefully. "I'd have to say that Founders could not 
produce children with a humanoid because their physiology is too different, 
but if you're asking if they could produce something similar to semen, 
anything is possible."

"But if they can't produce blood then they can't produce semen," Garak argued 
as he ate his cake.

Julian shrugged and snatched Garak's fork away, stealing his dessert. "The 
only Founder we really know is Odo and he's not exactly an experienced 
shapeshifter. Who knows how closely an older Founder could mimic humanoid 
physiology. For all we know, an experienced Founder could even produce blood 
cells and skin cells that are absolutely identical to our own. Just because 
we haven't seen it yet, doesn't mean they can't do it. So far our blood tests 
have worked, so most likely it's impossible for them to do that." He shook 
his head, "Even if I'm wrong and they can produce semen, they'd be infertile. 
If the Major and Odo ever wanted children they'd either have to adopt, find a 
sperm donor for Kira, or Odo would have to be the only pregnant man on Deep 
Space Nine."

"Odo, pregnant." Garak shuddered dramatically.

"It does make one's blood run cold, doesn't it?" Julian said dryly before 
setting his stolen fork down. "Let's go take a shower."

"After you."

******

Bashir wondered for the hundredth time what the Founder who had replaced him 
was doing on Deep Space Nine. Had he been caught? Or had his preparations 
been thorough enough for him to blend in?

He was forced to concede that the Founder had likely hacked into his private 
logs and might even know about the enhancements, but he still thought he'd be 
a fool to go public with any of it. No, he told himself: the Founder would 
likely lie low, do his job quietly and professionally (or at least for his 
patients' sake Bashir hoped that was the case), and carry out whatever 
subterfuge he was intending on with the precision and cunning the Founders 
were experts at. 

The doctor in Bashir worried over whether the Founder had allowed any of his 
crewmembers, colleagues, or friends to come to harm through lack of surgical 
or medical skills. He didn't worry about Kira or the O'Brien child; he had 
decided that it was unlikely the Founder would attract attention to himself 
by causing harm to either of them, especially considering the fact that 
Bajoran births were relatively trouble-free. 

He suddenly grinned. Miles had mentioned that Kira had wanted Shakaar to be 
with her at the birth. Maybe that would be enough to hook the man, he 
thought. He had treated Shakaar once for some minor ailment - a sequela of 
shinglepox, if he recalled correctly - and remembered that his medical 
history had contained a reference to a long-dead daughter. Perhaps by the 
time he got back, the two of them would be engaged.

That's the spirit, Bashir, he told himself: when you get back, not if.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

******

Chapter Three: In-Between Moments

******

"Good morning."

Garak opened his eyes slowly and stretched, smiling at his lover. "Good 
morning. What time is it?"

"Late - 0950." Julian smiled. "First time in months that we've been able to 
sleep past 0500 hours."

"O950 isn't late," Garak objected, closing his eyes and snuggling back into 
his pillow. "1200 hours is late. Let's go back to bed."

"God, you're a layabout," Julian snorted, then snatched the covers off of 
Garak.

"Noooo," Garak whined.

"You have errands to run, remember? I have to go work this bug out with Miles 
for a bit, but as soon as you're done I want you to comm me and we'll spend 
some time together before you and Worf take off, okay?"

"But the sheets are so soft and clean." Garak smiled as he held up the end of 
the sheet. "See? I even used that new program for the refresher that makes 
them smell," he sniffed the material dramatically, "flower fresh. You sure 
you don't want to take off that uniform and slip back into bed? I could make 
it worth your while." He wiggled his eyeridges comically.

Julian rolled his eyes. "If only the rest of the senior crew could see you 
now. When I first told them we were getting married everyone warned me about 
how cool and distant you were and that you were some kind of cold-blooded 
killer or something." He awarded him with a crooked grin. "If only they knew 
that you were the Cardassian equivalent of a pussy cat."

"Can I have my blanket back?" Garak asked, pointedly ignoring him.

"A fat, lazy pussy cat!" Julian pronounced. "Get up! You need to take a 
shower and get dressed. You didn't pack last night so you'd best get on with 
it."

Garak began to mutter darkly as he swung his naked legs over the side of the 
bed and headed toward the bathroom. "And who could have predicted that the 
minute you got used to the idea of domestication you'd turn into a harridan?"

"Then it can be you that complains about a nagging spouse in Quark's instead 
of me," Julian said, completely unaffected by Garak's criticism as he 
straightened out the bed. He glanced over at Garak who was standing in front 
of the commode. "When you see Ajaz this morning make sure to tell him that 
I'll be the one picking up the children's clothes when he's done."

"I will," Garak said grumpily as he shook off the remaining droplets of urine 
from his foreskin then flushed the commode so it slid back into the wall. 
Garak walked over to the sink and washed his hands, then picked up his 
toothbrush. "What's the problem you're having with your holoprogram? Maybe I 
can help?" he offered, turning on his toothbrush then running the warm, 
vibrating laser bristles over his teeth and gums.

Julian walked into the bathroom carrying a folded stack of Garak's underwear 
in his hand. He leaned against the doorframe and shrugged. "Halfway through, 
the program starts to stick and the characters begin to blink in and out. 
Personally, I think it's Quark's holosuites that are defective, but Miles 
says it's in the programming." Julian grimaced. "He's the engineer, so I'll 
have to go with his opinion on that, I suppose."

Garak pressed the panel near the sink and then picked up the small cup of 
mouthwash as it appeared. He swished his mouth out then replaced the cup 
allowing it to be recycled. After he spit it out and wiped his mouth, he 
asked, "If you want, I could join you. I know a bit about programming."

"What about Ajaz?" he asked.

Garak paused, then shrugged. "I'll just send him a list of patterns along 
with the children's measurements. He's a fairly competent tailor so he'll do 
a good job, I'm sure."

"Please," Julian snorted. "You are the most detail-oriented person I know. If 
one stitch is out of place you'll be miserable to live with for days. Go to 
the tailor shop and at least get the process started for him then comm me 
when you're ready for lunch."

Garak nodded reluctantly, then gestured at the stack of clothes in Julian's 
hand. "Are you packing for me?"

"Are you going to take a shower?" Julian asked instead.

"I just took one a few hours ago," he answered.

"Then hurry up and get out here. I'll help you but I'm not doing it all by 
myself," he said with a look. "Here!" He tossed him a pair of underwear then 
cocked his head toward the bedroom. "Let's just get this done and we can both 
be on our way."

Garak slipped on the shorts and headed out of the room toward the bureau.

Garak walked into the closet then brought out an armful of clothing to go 
into his travel cases. He doubted he'd need them, but the whole process of 
packing was for Julian's benefit anyway. The doctor thought they were going 
to Earth, not the Gamma Quadrant. Garak doubted the Founders would throw him 
and Mr. Worf a formal reception when they came calling, but he grabbed a 
formal suit anyway. After all, he imagined if he really were going to Earth 
there would be some sort of occasion for formal dress. There was always a 
soiree or dinner one was required to attend at such conferences.

He must have been correct because Julian nodded his approval when he handed 
him the stack of clothes. 

"Pack some lighter weight tunics as well," Julian said as he unzipped his 
wardrobe bag and placed the suits inside. "San Francisco is hot this time of 
year, even by Cardassian standards." He paused, "Well, for a Cardassian who 
has acclimated to living on a mostly humanoid space station, anyway."

"Just one or two though," Garak said, going back to the closet. "When Mr. 
Worf sees me with a duffle and a wardrobe bag he'll make some kind of remark 
about how a true warrior should learn to travel light, or something."

"I doubt it," Julian snorted. "Jadzia's packing for him. He'll probably have 
more suitcases than you, despite being able to just replicate a fresh uniform 
whenever he feels like it. She once told me that if he thought he could get 
away with it, Worf would just recycle his underwear by turning it inside out 
if she weren't there to keep him civilized."

Garak grimaced. "Please, don't say anything else on that subject. The images 
and implications of that are making my stomach churn." He walked over to the 
bureau and applied his deodorant and then shook some scented oil out of its 
bottle and rubbed it across his chest. He then reached into the drawer, 
pulling out a soft undershirt before catching Julian's reflection in the 
mirror. "What?"

Julian walked over to Garak and breathed in the clean, spicy scent before 
embracing the Cardassian and holding him close. "Just, you know, enjoying the 
in-between moments."

Garak squeezed Julian to him, his undershirt still in his hand as he buried 
his nose in his lover's thick, dark curls. He had once said to him that the 
best part of being with someone was the intimacy of the in-between moments. 
How true that had proved to be, he thought to himself. He pulled away then 
slipped on his undershirt. "Keep it up and we'll be here all day."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Julian complained without any real heat behind the 
words. 

As soon as Garak was finished dressing, they took his bags and set them near 
the door of their quarters. They rode the turbolift up together then 
separated when they got to the Promenade with a brief kiss and Garak 
promising to comm Julian as soon as he was done.

Garak headed toward his old shop with a smile. As worried as he was about 
Tain and getting to their missing crewman, whomever he or she was, he was at 
least happy that he had put all of his nagging doubts about Julian to rest. 
He had considered doubling back so he could continue to monitor Julian's 
progress, but dismissed it. It was more important that he stick with a 
routine in case the Founder was watching. Besides, it wasn't Julian he was 
worried about.

Julian was just Julian.

He smiled.

******

Just a few more hours, Bashir told himself, as the Hadar guard slammed his 
meal (if he could call it that) down on the hard concrete floor and pulled 
the heavy door shut behind him. By later that day he'd be out of this bloody 
isolation and back into the regular prison population. 

As he picked at his gruel, he thought back to the module in medical school 
that had discussed the behavior of prisoners in isolation. A Human could go 
crazy after a month, other species in even less time. It hadn't been that 
difficult for him, though; his years of isolating himself from the rest of 
society had stood him in good stead. But his colleagues and friends...perhaps 
he was fortunate to be the one in solitary. Of course, he was also likely the 
only viable candidate.

It was clear to him why the Founders had picked him as their target. As the 
station CMO not only did he handle blood screenings, he also held the safety 
of the crew in his hands. Nobody would be surprised to see the doctor in any 
section of the station; as he was always being called upon to tend sick or 
injured crewmembers, his presence would never be questioned. Bashir was also 
the only officer able to single-handedly remove any crewmember from duty, 
even the Captain. He could imagine the Founder drugging Sisko, O'Brien, or 
Kira and keeping them away from their posts, claiming they were unfit for 
duty. He could even keep O'Brien and the rest of the Station Services 
department busy with minor acts of sabotage disguised as 'needed repairs', 
giving the Founder time to perform whatever major sabotage he was planning.

And he was really the only choice. The Prophets had protected Sisko in the 
past from far less perilous situations than being kidnapped and replaced by a 
Founder, he thought, and anyway with Kasidy Yates back on the station he 
doubted they'd try, since he doubted it was possible to hide regeneration 
from a spouse or partner or even a roommate. That also made Worf, Dax, and 
O'Brien less likely candidates, and Kira - either the Founder would have to 
assume the pregnancy or two Founders would have to be involved, and mimicking 
the symptoms of pregnancy might be too difficult for them. And they wouldn't 
allow a Founder to come to harm, so that eliminated Odo.

They could have chosen Garak instead, he thought idly. He wasn't a member of 
the senior staff, but he was friendly with some of them. Plus he was a 
solitary being like Bashir. There were no lovers (as far as Bashir knew), no 
friends who would drop in at inconvenient times. The problem with replacing 
Garak, though, was that most of the crew already suspected him of being a 
spy. Even a slight change in his personality or his actions would be remarked 
upon and he'd likely end up in the brig again. No, Bashir thought, Garak 
wasn't a logical choice either.

The door opened again: the Hadar guard took the bowl, spoon, and cup and 
left, throwing a damp towel at him before the door slammed shut.

It was bizarre, he thought with a sigh as he picked up the towel and began to 
wipe himself clean. His captors were more concerned that he'd smell bad than 
they were that he might die. Of course, if the Hadar had been engineered to 
have a strong sense of smell, perhaps to hunt down opponents...he'd remember 
to mention that if he was rescued. 

When he was rescued, he told himself.

******

"You're sure I can't pay you anything?"

Ajaz waved him off as he brought over another bolt of colorful Bajoran 
cotton. "Please, after the deal you gave me on this place and your entire 
stock? My husband and wives would disown me if I tried to charge you. 
Besides," he added, "I have ten children of my own. I'm happy to help. I 
can't wait to meet Kela and Lewin next month."

"They are wonderful children," Garak agreed, thinking of the mixed-race 
sibling set he and the doctor had first met several weeks ago while they were 
investigating a murder on Bajor. "We've managed to see them at least every 
other weekend on Bajor since beginning the adoption process, but I must 
admit, I am looking forward to their first visit here, myself."

"How long will they be allowed to stay?" Ajaz asked.

Garak smiled at the Bolean tailor. "Just the day for the first visit so they 
can get acclimated to the idea of being alone with us, then they'll begin 
overnight visits once a week for a month before we take custody permanently."

Ajaz rolled his eyes. "Seems like a waste of time. Those Bajoran social 
workers should just go ahead and let you take custody now. I can't imagine 
two more loving parents than you and the doctor. I've seen the way you act 
with each other and the doctor showed me that last set of holoimages you took 
at the orphanage of the kids. They looked happy as can be with you."

Garak shrugged. "I thought the same thing myself in the beginning, but then 
when all this business started with the Dominion I realized that if the 
children were here we wouldn't have a lot of time to spend with them. Their 
teacher and daycare worker would have seen them more than us. This way it's a 
gradual process and the children can get to know us better first. They've 
been through a lot and the orphanage is the only real home they've ever 
known."

"Too bad you and the doctor's people aren't more open-minded about your 
marriage customs." Ajaz said ruefully. "If you did like the Boleans do, and 
took on a few more wives and husbands, you'd never have to worry about 
childcare or your children being alone. I mean, our family is small by my 
people's standards, but still, not one of my children has ever so much as 
needed a babysitter."

"I suppose not all of us are as evolved as the Bolean people," Garak said as 
he began cutting out a colorful romper for Kela.

"Certainly not when it comes to your plumbing, at any rate," Ajaz agreed, 
picking up a sizing tool. "I still can't get the Starfleet people to 
understand that we need to install specialized plumbing in our new quarters. 
They just look at me as though they have no clue what I'm referring to."

Garak rolled his eyes. "Good luck trying to explain it to them. They'll 
probably make you fill out six PADDs of forms in triplicate before they even 
order the first fixture."

Ajaz grunted in agreement as he began cutting the cloth for Lewin's trousers. 
"I mean, we're paying rent, we should be able to - damn it!" The lights in 
the shop blinked and buzzed before coming back on. "All week that's been 
happening! I've asked them three times to fix that!"

Garak frowned as he looked up at the ceiling. "Have you talked to Chief 
O'Brien about that?"

"I certainly have, and he promised-"

"I'm here, I'm here!" O'Brien huffed as he hurried into the shop and dropped 
his toolbox on the floor near the conduit panel. "Sorry about that. I would 
have had one of my men here sooner but we've had power fluctuations and 
outages all over the station for over a week now and we can't seem to figure 
out where they're all coming from."

"Well, it's about time!" Ajaz said, his bright blue cheeks flushing purple 
with anger. "I asked your department a week ago for some assistance and no 
one even commed me back. I'm going to tell Major Kira that I want my rent 
prorated to reflect the inconvenience this has caused me!" He pointed out the 
door of the shop to the other businesses across the Promenade. "Quark got his 
power relays fixed the first day he filed a claim and my cousin-in-law, 
Bubba, said that when Duarto told you the power was going out in his shop 
someone was there within minutes! What, only the humans and Ferengi get fast 
service on this station?"

"It isn't about race, Ajaz! My whole crew has been run ragged for the past 
week because of these power drains!" O'Brien grouched. "I came down here 
personally because I know you've been waiting so long, AND I ordered that 
plumbing you requested myself. Someone's installing it in your quarters as we 
speak."

"Took you people long enough," Ajaz said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Well, I'm here now so what do you want from me?" O'Brien said irritably as 
he scanned the power coupling. "There, fixed! You're welcome," he said 
sarcastically. He got up and glared at Ajaz. "You know, I always heard 
Boleans were supposed to be a friendly and free-loving sort of folk. But you-
you're just plain unpleasant." He looked at Garak ruefully, "You might have 
always cut the trousers a bit too long, but at least you believed in service 
with a smile." The last bit was pointed toward the Bolean tailor.

"I'm not here to dance and play a tambourine for your amusement, human," Ajaz 
said darkly. "Believe it or not, my people were not placed within the 
universe to be the jesters of the Federation." 

"Oh Christ, there he goes with that 'blue power' crap again," O'Brien 
muttered rolling his eyes heavenward.

Ajaz started to say something but Garak cut him off. "I thought you and 
Julian were going to work on something in the holosuites this morning? 
Something about a programming glitch in one of your battle scenarios?"

Miles frowned, picking up his tool case. "He didn't mention anything like 
that to me. Maybe you misheard him, besides," he said walking to the door, 
"Julian knew I'd be working overtime all weekend on these power fluctuations. 
Maybe he got Dax to help him."

"That was probably it," Garak said, suddenly feeling very disturbed. "Now I 
remember, you're right. It was Dax he was talking about. I just heard 
'holosuites' and assumed it was you he was referring to."

Miles shrugged. "I'm headed that way now. If I see him do you want me to tell 
Julian you're looking for him?"

"No, no," Garak said quickly. "I'll see him later anyway."

"Okay." He turned to Ajaz. "If you have any more problems, comm me and I'll 
come check it out." He glared and said pointedly, "That doesn't mean I'll 
drop everything and come running, it means I'll get here as soon as I'm able 
to." He narrowed his eyes. "I realize you have this conspiracy theory that 
just because you're short, bald, and blue, the world is out to get you; but, 
believe it or not, I have a whole entire station to take care of, not just 
'your' shop."

Ajaz snorted. "In that case, as soon as the power goes back out, I'll comm 
you and maybe, in a month or so when you finally drag yourself over here, you 
can prove that."

Miles shook his head in frustration then turned to Garak. "Are you sure you 
don't want to go back to being the station's tailor? Never thought I'd say 
this, but I'd much rather deal with you any day than him." He hitched his 
thumb toward Ajaz before heading out the door.

"Yeah, and just make sure to check for pins the next time you need your 
inseam adjusted," Ajaz shot back as Miles waved his hand over his head, on 
his way toward Quark's Bar. "Humans," he grumbled, picking up his tool again 
and cutting the cloth. "I can usually tolerate most of them but that O'Brien 
has a real attitude problem." He glanced up at Garak who was sitting at the 
cutting table in silence, his expression dark. "Something wrong?"

Garak shook his head and got out of his chair, heading out of the shop. "I 
just remembered I had to do something before I left on my trip. Can you 
finish the children's clothes for me?"

"No problem," Ajaz said. "Tell the doctor they'll be ready on Wednesday."

Garak nodded, although he didn't really hear the Bolean's words, his mind too 
filled with disturbing thoughts. He quickly made his way toward the 
turbolifts and as soon as the doors shut he slapped his comm badge. "Garak to 
Bashir. How are the repairs coming to your holoprogram?"

//It's a little rough, but we're getting it done. Miles says we'll be through 
within the hour, why? Are you hungry?//

Garak felt his stomach lurch as he struggled to keep his tone casual. 
"Getting there but I want to finish these last little details on some of the 
patterns I'm working on with Ajaz. Meet you in our quarters in forty-five 
minutes?"

//Perfect. See you then, Bashir out.//

Garak hurried to his quarters so he could track down Julian on the security 
monitors. 

Julian was lying to him.

Without even stopping to consider the implications of that, he just 
concentrated on how he was going to track the doctor down. As soon as the 
turbolift stopped and the doors opened he walked briskly across the hall to 
his quarters, then rushed through the door. 

What he saw then made him stop cold in his tracks.

Julian was placing a couple of long tapered candles in the center of the 
dining table in the kitchen. The buffet bar was already loaded down with 
various cold dishes and a small banner that said, "Congratulations Lt. Garak" 
hung across the archway to the replicator. "Dammit, Garak! You scared the 
shit out of me!" He grimaced. "This was supposed to be a surprise. What are 
you doing here so soon? I just spoke to you not two seconds ago."

Garak opened his mouth then closed it again as he tried to come up with a 
reasonable excuse. "I had a similar idea to yours, apparently. I was going to 
fix you lunch before I left so you could have something nice to remember 
before I left on my trip."

The doctor offered him a sweet smile. "In that case get over there and start 
up the replicator. I already programmed in our menu, you just have to hit the 
start button."

Garak walked over and gave Julian a quick kiss before heading toward the 
replicator and punching in the command. As the steaming hot dishes 
materialized, he picked up the hot pads hanging next to the unit and brought 
them over to the table.

"I have to say, at first I wasn't so sure about accepting that replicator 
from Krath Milnar, but it sure is a lot nicer than the standard ones everyone 
else has. Even the captain is jealous." He grinned and looked up at Garak. 
"Good thing I'm not going with you, huh? If we were both off the station he 
might be tempted to 'confiscate' it." Julian stopped then frowned, noticing 
Garak's troubled expression. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Garak said, pasting a bright smile back on his face. "I'm just sad that 
this is the last lunch we'll be sharing for a while." Julian turned to 
embrace him and Garak held him close, luxuriating in the feel of the doctor's 
lean muscles rippling under his hands as he caressed his back. "You changed 
your clothes."

Julian pulled away from him and looked down at his sweater and jeans. "I 
thought you might like it if I wore the sweater you knitted me for our last 
meal."

"You look beautiful," Garak said softly, admiring the way the bronze knit 
looked against his lover's swarthy complexion.

Julian smiled ruefully. "I think you mean 'handsome'."

"No. Beautiful. I meant beautiful." 

As they kissed, Garak cursed himself for what he had almost done. To think, 
he actually thought-

No matter, Garak told himself. After today he would never mistrust Julian 
Bashir again.

******

"You still don't trust me, do you?" Garak asked, not bothering to look up as 
he entered some information onto his PADD.

Worf didn't bother lying. "No, I do not."

Garak looked at him from the corner of his eye. "I can respect that. I 
wouldn't trust me either if I were in your position."

They sat in silence for a while as Worf continued to pilot the Defiant 
towards their listening post as Garak continued tapping on his PADD. After a 
while, Worf grimaced and nodded toward the thin handheld computer. "What are 
you working on?"

"Some more forms I have to submit for my commission hearing. I think it would 
have been easier just to go to the damned Academy and get it over with," he 
muttered.

Worf tightened his mouth in disapproval. "I still do not understand why you 
wish to join Starfleet."

"What's not to understand?" Garak asked, looking up. "I've lived on the 
station for more than five years, I'm marrying a Federation citizen who is a 
Starfleet officer, and I'm working for Starfleet Intelligence - why not take 
the extra step and accept the commission they're offering?"

Worf looked at him then back at the viewscreen. "You do not find that it is 
disloyal for you to abandon your people so entirely that you would reject 
your entire identity in this manner?"

"Did you reject your identity when you joined Starfleet?" Garak shot back.

"That was not the same thing," Worf answered gruffly.

"Oh, but I disagree, Mr. Worf," Garak said placing his PADD on the console in 
front of him and turning to his companion. "You are as much an outcast to 
your people as I am to my own. Both of us have chosen to serve Starfleet 
because it is not only in our best interests but also in the interests of 
those we care about. In that one way, we are alike."

"We are nothing alike."

"How do you mean? Because I'm a Cardassian?"

"You are not just a Cardassian. You are a spy. An assassin. A saboteur," Worf 
said, disgusted. "You have, on numerous occasions, betrayed those you would 
now call comrades. If I trusted you that would make me a fool."

Garak nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. I know I've done some unfortunate 
things in the past, and whether you choose to believe me or not, although I 
do not regret the motivation behind them, I do regret the acts themselves. 
Odo, Julian, and Captain Sisko have all accepted that and because of their 
ability to get past those misdeeds, I have decided to join Starfleet." He 
smiled ruefully. "I understand that my speaking so plainly on this subject 
comes as a shock to you, but I'm looking for a fresh start. I have been for a 
long time," he said, thinking of the monastery on Bajor. "I need to find a 
way to make up for all the damage I've done. To prove to myself that I can be 
better than I am, if not for me, then for Julian."

Worf seemed to reluctantly begin to accept what he was telling him. "Why are 
you saying this to me if you know I will not believe you anyway?"

"When my commission comes through, you will, technically, be my immediate 
superior. We're both assigned to the tactical department and we both want to 
see to it that the station is kept secure. We're going to have to learn to 
somewhat trust each another." He looked him directly in the eye. "I'm having 
a difficult time accepting that myself, Mr. Worf, but it is for our mutual 
benefit that we at least attempt to try. Don't believe I care about any of 
you or Deep Space Nine if you like, but I am marrying Dr. Bashir and in a 
very short time I will be the father of two children who will be living with 
us on that station. You know enough about Cardassians to know how we feel 
about our families. I don't expect us to become friends - I do, however, 
expect us to work together to do what must be done to keep them safe."

Worf's mouth tightened as he considered Garak's words. "If that's how you 
feel, I will... consider your request that we - I - give you the benefit of 
the doubt." He shot him a warning glance. "But be warned, Cardassian, the 
first time I feel that you are a danger to the security of the station or our 
mission, I will kill you and keep your body intact only so the doctor can 
identify your remains."

"Fair enough," Garak said easily, picking his PADD back up. "If you had said 
anything less I would have accused you of being the Founder."

"And had you not been so convincing in your statement, I would have thought 
the same of you," Worf replied. "Your sudden shift in loyalties and eagerness 
to aid us in defending the station against the Dominion made me suspect you 
were not yourself."

"I imagine my relationship with Dr. Bashir didn't help matters either?"

"It did not."

Garak nodded. "It was a surprise for me as well."

They sat in silence for a long time until Garak got up and headed for the 
replicator. "Do you want a drink?"

"No."

"You're quite the conversationalist, Mr. Worf. The is shaping up to be a long 
trip already." Garak scowled at the menu on the small replicator. "The only 
beverages on this ship are water, prune juice, and Earl Grey tea. Who 
installed this unit?"

"I did." Worf said without preamble.

"Figures," he muttered. He picked up the cup of hot tea as it appeared on the 
pad and then grimaced as he took a sip. "I would like to get my hands on this 
fellow Earl Grey and tell him a thing or two about tea leaves."

"If you don't like it, don't drink it," Worf said.

Garak ignored him. He glanced down at his console. "Is the cloaking device 
running to spec?"

"It is." Worf glanced at him. "Have you picked up something on the sensors?"

"There's a nebula near here. We could use it to avoid detection and get light 
years closer to the source of the transmission," Garak answered.

Worf frowned. "Tactically, that would be unwise. Our shields would be useless 
inside that nebula."

"But so would Jem'Hadar sensors," Garak pointed out. "It's a risk, but the 
answer is probably out there, Commander."

"How do you mean?"

"What better hiding place can you think of to put a Jem'Hadar base camp than 
a nebula which Federation sensors cannot penetrate?"

"True, but we would be left wide open to attacks."

"Would the cloaking device still work in the nebula?" Garak asked.

"Possibly," Worf answered. "I haven't been able to field test the device 
under those conditions since making the upgrades. It would be a huge risk to 
both our lives and this ship. I do not know if the rewards of such a strategy 
outweigh the possible risk we would be undertaking."

"We have no choice. We just have to have to take that chance. Remember, it's 
not just Tain we're looking for. The Maryland, the Proxima, the Sarajevo... 
Starfleet ships that have been missing in the Gamma Quadrant for years, their 
crews unaccounted for. We owe it to them to do everything in our power to 
find those men and bring them home." He paused. "As I have heard you say 
before under similar circumstances, it is the honorable thing to do."

"You are trying to manipulate me and I do not appreciate it." Worf shot him a 
disgusted look. "You use that word, 'honor', but your very tone proves that 
you have no idea what it means."

Garak shrugged, "Maybe not. But you do."

Worf's spine stiffened in reaction to Garak's off-hand manner as he adjusted 
his heading. "Setting course for the nebula."

"We've got a pocket of Toh-maire gas ahead." 

Worf carefully plotted his course through the nebula. "Bringing her to zero-
three-one mark three-five-five."

"Steady as she..." Garak allowed his voice to trail off as he spotted 
something strange on the sensors. "Now what could that be?" 

Worf leaned over to examine the readout. Within the blue tinged pockets of 
Toh-maire gas there were a cluster of smaller, unidentified objects dead 
ahead. "Whatever they are, they're coming straight at us," he said grimly.

"I guess that answers our question," Garak said mostly to himself. "We're in 
the right place, but apparently the cloaking device does not work under these 
conditions. Can't wait to get back to the station so we can send in the 
report on that."

"Preparing for evasive maneuvers," Worf ordered as they both concentrated on 
the battle that lay ahead of them. 

The Defiant moved quickly through the nebula, dodging and weaving to avoid 
three Jem'Hadar ships in hot pursuit. "They're firing at us!" Garak said, 
charging the weapons as one of the ships fired across their bow. 

Worf changed course sharply, the ship shaking from the glancing shot fired by 
the closest Jem'Hadar ship. 

Garak monitored the readouts. "You still haven't lost them!" 

"I know," Worf gritted out as the ship rocked again. 

"There are four more Jem'Hadar ships in close pursuit, and at least two ahead 
of us on an intercept course!" Garak said tersely. 

Worf hit a series of commands. "We have to warn the station. There is only 
one reason for the Dominion to hide such a large fleet this close to the 
wormhole."

"You think they're planning to attack the Alpha Quadrant." It wasn't a 
question. 

"I am certain of it," Worf agreed. The ship rocked again as Worf hit some 
controls. 

"I'm sending a message in the code I taught the captain. Hopefully he has 
good enough recall to figure out what it says." He looked at his monitor. 
"I'm transmitting, but there's no way to know if it's getting through all 
this interference." 

"Why not just send it in Standard code?" The ship rocked again and Worf fired 
phasers, destroying one of the Jem'Hadar cruisers.

The second cruiser blasted through its comrade's remains and attempted to 
complete their deadly attack. Worf fired first and the ship broke apart, 
pieces of its metal hull scattering in the vacuum of space. 

"Two down, two to go," Garak said as he quickly typed out the commands needed 
to boost their signal yield. Nothing happened. "Damn. No good. If I send it 
in Standard then the Founder might intercept the text and initiate the 
attack! As long as he doesn't know we know there's a shapeshifter on the 
station we may be able to buy Sisko some time. Can you destroy those other 
two ships?" Garak asked. "If we can't get out a message then, hopefully, 
neither can they."

"We have to get clear of the nebula; without shields we're as good as dead," 
Worf said, switching directions as another of the demonically fast ships 
gained on them.

"And I thought your people were the ones who always went around saying 'today 
is a good day to die'?" Garak joked grimly as the Defiant rocked again and 
one of the panels sparked, then blew behind them. 

"I think Jadzia would prefer I avoid dying today if I can," he answered, 
piloting the ship sharply to the left and firing off another volley of phaser 
fire.

"Direct hit!" Garak said as the second ship disintegrated. "One more directly 
on our tail - you better move it or we're both going to be in Sto'Vo'Kor 
within the next five minutes!"

"Cardassians don't go to Sto'Vo'Kor." Worf shot back.

"Hopefully not today anyway," Garak returned. "Charging rear phasers!"

The ship shook violently as the Jem'Hadar weapon's fire nicked their aft 
section. The ship shuddered and both men were thrown forward in their seats.

"What happened? We've come to a dead stop!" 

Worf looked down at his console, his face black with tension. "They have us 
in a tractor beam." 

"Re-polarize the hull!" Garak ordered. "Try to shake us loose!"

But before either of them could take action, four Jem'Hadar soldiers 
materialized with guns drawn, aimed directly at them. 

Garak and Worf looked at each other then slowly rose to their feet, their 
hands above their heads in surrender. "Are we glad to see you." His voice was 
heavily laden with sarcasm. "Can one of you gentlemen please point us in the 
direction of the wormhole?" 

******

Chapter Four: Purgatory

******

"Benjamin?"

Sisko looked up from his desk to see Dax standing at the door to his office. 
"Come in, old man."

Jadzia walked over holding a PADD, a disgruntled expression on her face. "We 
just picked up another message in that strange code Garak tried to decipher 
for us earlier. Do you want me to go ahead and send it to the Defiant on a 
secured channel? I can't make head or tails out of it."

Sisko held out his hand to accept the PADD, schooling his features to remain 
calm and relaxed. He glanced at the message, concentrating hard on the 
alphanumeric code Garak had taught him. It was rough going but after a few 
minutes he had translated most of it.

The reptilian looking triangle was the symbol they had worked out for 
Jem'Hadar. It took him longer to work out the rest of the message, but when 
he did it made his blood run cold. 'Build-up Imminent'.

"What is it? Can you translate it?" Dax asked curiously.

"No, not all of it," Sisko said, handing it back, his voice sounding hollow 
to his own ears. "Mr. Garak showed me a little of the code and from what I 
can tell it's basically the beginnings of a love letter. Probably from one of 
the men who died in the attack to his wife." He looked up at her. "Was there 
any more to the message? Coordinates, maybe? It would be nice if we could 
give this poor woman some closure."

"I think so. There was a lot of static but I can try to clear it up." She 
tilted her head and frowned. "Are you all right, Benjamin? You look a little 
pale."

"The message just...made me think about Jennifer for a minute," he said, 
sending a silent prayer to his wife for forgiveness.

"Sorry." She started to walk away then paused. "Should I still send this to 
Garak?"

If Garak sent this message encoded that means that probably he thinks there 
is a chance that the Founder still doesn't know that we are aware of his 
presence, Sisko thought to himself. He tried to put himself in Garak's frame 
of mind. 

Think logically, he reminded himself. Garak wouldn't bother sending this 
message in Tain's code unless he figured he could still buy us some time. 
After a moment or two of hesitation, he decided to continue the operation but 
also decided that they still needed to heighten security measures without 
alerting the Founder as to the reason why. 

"No, it's nothing he could help us with now." Benjamin licked his lips, which 
had begun to feel very dry all of the sudden. As Dax started to leave he 
called out, "Hold on a minute, old man. Do you happen to remember the last 
time we conducted an station-wide emergency drill?"

Jadzia snorted. "Not for a while. We've had so many real emergencies that we 
haven't needed to bother with drills, why?"

"I was just going through my paperwork and realized we haven't had an 
emergency drill in, well, long enough that I have some paper-pusher from HQ 
screaming for my reports. Starfleet requires we have at least one drill a 
month in forward installations like this one. Since we've missed the last 
several months' worth, it's time to shake things up around here!" He gave her 
a dangerous grin. "Have the entire station stay on orange alert for the next 
thirty-six hours or until I give the order to stand down. All furlough is 
cancelled, all hands on deck, and everyone better be button bright and shiny 
in time for the staff meeting at 1700 hours. Tell everyone that although this 
is only a drill I want it treated like the real thing." He took a breath. 
"All departments are to begin emergency procedures and all the shops are to 
go through evacuation drills. If I catch anyone lag-assing or treating it 
like a joke they're going on report and their immediate superiors will be on 
the chopping block with them, understood?"

"Aye, sir!" Dax grinned as she snapped to attention. "I love it when you go 
hard-ass, Benjamin."

"Expect it to only get harder from here on out, old man," Sisko said grimly.

After Dax left, Sisko reached for his baseball that always sat in its stand 
on his desk and squeezed it until the leather made a satisfying squeak of 
pain. As a captain he had always borne the burden of knowing that he would 
have to stand alone with the weight of his people's lives directly on his 
conscience, but now he was risking not just the lives of Worf and Garak but 
the entirety of the Alpha Quadrant on his gut instinct and faith in a man he 
had only just begun to tentatively trust. 

If he alerted Starfleet headquarters and requested they send reinforcements, 
that Dominion fleet would be on the move within hours. It would take the bulk 
of the Federation fleet to hold off a full-scale attack and even at maximum 
warp it would take at least two days for those ships to make it to them. 

He thought about that long and hard. As long as the Founder didn't know they 
knew about him, they had the element of surprise on their side, but as they 
didn't know whose form he inhabited, so did he.

Stalemate.

Garak was right. Alert the Founder and they would risk a full on attack on 
the station and he had foolishly sent the Defiant with them in the hopes the 
cloaking device would allow them to get in and out without drawing enemy 
fire.

He rubbed his eyes wearily with one hand as he squeezed his baseball with the 
other. He needed a back-up plan. He needed ships with serious firepower to 
make their way to the station without alerting the Founder. 

He considered his options: 

He could arrest Kira, O'Brien, and Bashir, but if one of them was not the 
Founder then he would have not only weakened his command crew, but also 
tipped off their enemy.

He could alert Starfleet on an encoded channel, but if the Chief or Kira was 
the Founder either of them could easily hack into his comm terminal and 
intercept the message. Unlike Mr. Garak, he had never thought about designing 
an elaborate code that only he and another member of Starfleet Command could 
decipher. Any code he sent would be standardized enough for either Kira's or 
O'Brien's doppelganger to translate. It wouldn't work.

Or would it...

Sisko squeezed the ball harder. Maybe he did know some private codes after 
all.

It was risky and not a route he wanted to go, but it was the only plan he 
could come up with that might offer them at least a shred of hope. He punched 
the command into his comm terminal and waited.

//Ben? Well I'll be damned! How's it going down in the front lines? Between 
the Klingons and the Cardies you got yourself a real shit-fit down there!// 

"Admiral Gilhouly! Good to see you again, sir. We're bruised but not broken, 
and yourself?" Sisko said in a booming voice.

//Admiral? Since when have you ever acted respectable with me?//

Sisko grinned. "Since that last poker game where you cleaned me out of a 
month's pay."

Gilhouly laughed, accentuating the deep grooves around his mouth. //Yeah, and 
I don't recall you paying up yet!// 

Fitz Gilhouly was a tough, weather-beaten man with sun-bleached blond hair 
and the hands of a long-haul fisherman, coarse and rough with calluses. When 
he shook your hand you felt it for days, and, unlike a lot of Admirals who 
took to desk duty like ducks to water, Gilhouly was a warrior through and 
through. If there was a forward position in a fight, his ship was the one 
leading the charge. 

Fitz was enough of a rebel to keep him out of Headquarters and in the 
trenches and enough of a fighter to earn the respect he was due. He'd been 
Sisko's superior officer in the Utopia Planetia Fleet Yards and he was a man 
Sisko knew he could trust. 

Best of all, his ship was Galaxy-class, loaded to the gills, and only a day 
or two away.

Now all he had to do was get him out here.

"You up for helping me out with a drill I'm conducting on DS9?" Sisko asked 
casually, tossing his ball from one hand to the other.

//Drill?// Fitz snorted. //Hell Ben, as much enemy fire as that tin wheel of 
yours gets, the last damn thing your people need is a drill! They got it down 
pat by now.//

"I agree, but you know Starfleet and their regulations." He shrugged 
casually. "Anyway, I was thinking about those drills you conducted back in 
the shipyard. We have the defensive down, but they need more experience with 
offense. I have the Defiant out on a refit, but even if she were here it 
would be nice to have a Galaxy class vessel for the maintenance crews to cut 
their teeth on."

//Got 'em green, huh?// Gilhouly asked, rubbing his chin. //You know I love 
to kick enlisted ass into shape, but we're a little busy down here. Wouldn't 
look good to cut and run just so we can help a few younguns cut teeth. I hear 
Abramson is up for anything. If you can hold up your drill, I can order him 
down there for you.//

"Too bad," Ben said slowly. "I was looking forward to showing you around this 
place. I heard you just unloaded your third wife and I happen to know of a 
redheaded Dabo girl down in Quark's who reminds me of that little number you 
used to go with back in the day."

//A redhead?// Fitz gave him a lecherous grin. //Happen to know if the carpet 
matches the drapes?//

Now was the time to go for broke, he told himself. "Reminds me of that little 
gal you picked up on Thalos V, Imogene. That was her name right?"

Admiral Gilhouly's eyes hardened for a moment but his smile stayed in place.

//Imogene, now there was a girl a man could never forget.//

"I figured you'd say that," Sisko said, nodding ever so slightly.

Gilhouly gave him a long, searching look. //You tell that gal to hold on. Her 
next sugardaddy is less than two days away.// He smiled dangerously. //If 
you're really in the mood for some cutthroat poker, I can invite some of the 
boys down and make a real party out of it.//

Thank you, God, Sisko thought silently. He got it. "Who'd you have in mind?"

//Like I said, Abramson's always up for anything and Figueiredo on the 
Venture is a real shark. Good player, just have to watch how she deals the 
cards,// Gilhouly said jovially, but his eyes told Ben all he needed to know.

Imogene was the name Fitz Gilhouly gave a prototype ship they had designed 
together in the Utopia Planetia Shipyards, the precursor to the Defiant. Her 
first mission was to give aid to a colony under attack on Thalos V where she 
and her entire crew were destroyed before backup could arrive.

He had named her after his first wife because, as he had joked, Imogene was a 
redhead and redheads always meant trouble.

Gilhouly was coming loaded for bear and bringing with him his ship, the USS 
Ulysses, Veldon 'Butch' Abramson (who, if he recalled correctly, billed 
himself as 'the toughest Jew in Starfleet') on the Titan, and Gabriela 
Figueiredo on the Venture. It was an all-out task force.

"Bring 'em on! I can't trust any of my own crew. Every time we play together 
they wipe me out because they don't know any better. I can't seem to get them 
to understand that the superior officer takes the pot." Translation: I have a 
confederate on my team and I don't know who it is.

//Aw hell Ben, you just haven't housebroken 'em yet. Take my crew, for 
instance. I got 'em so w