What would you undertake
To show yourself your father's son in deed
More than in words?
Hamlet, Act IV, Scene VII
-------------------------------

Prologue: Rakantha Province, Bajor; April 2368

A dungeon horrible, on all sides round
As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible
Serv'd only to discover sights of woe...

Milton, Paradise Lost


From this height, it was clear where the ground stopped being green and became black. Even the smoke from the fires could not obscure this line, the border between civilization and chaos.

Glinn Talat dropped the flyer's altitude, relieved to be able to focus on a task which would distract him from the oppressive presence of his passenger. As they came in a little closer, it became clear that the border was itself crossed by many lines, scratch marks scoring the land, moving inexorably from black to green - the trails of the departing Cardassian forces.

'Land here.'

Talat jumped at the sudden order and glanced at the co-ordinates the man showed him. His heart sank. 'Sir, I must warn you that it's extremely dangerous on the ground. Our men could leave that area at any moment and I couldn't guarantee your safety...'

'Thank you, Talat, but I believe that I am _quite_ able to manage. Perhaps you would be happier if _I_ guaranteed _your_ safety?' There was a pause, which Talat did not dare to fill. 'Then let us land.'

Talat, a Cardassian to the tips of his scales and thus uninterested in the cosmologies of alien cultures, was not able to compare the situation that met them on the ground with Hell; his passenger, however, was considerably better informed. Despite it being the middle of the day, they had to squint through the gloom at the scene. Malatta had once been a prosperous agricultural settlement. After the Cardassians occupied the province it had degenerated into a shantytown. And now it was on fire.

The air was almost solid with ash, gagging both men. Through the smoke they could make out the charred ruins of little homes and barns. Faintly, through what remained of blackened windows, they could just glimpse the ghostly faces of the Bajoran locals, looking on helplessly as their already meagre livelihoods were completely obliterated.

'Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace and rest can never dwell, hope never comes...' muttered the other man.

'I beg your pardon, sir?' coughed Talat in confusion. The military didn't, in general, speak highly of Obsidian Order officers, considering them undisciplined and soft. Talat hadn't, however, expected them also to spout garbage at the drop of a hat.

'Never mind,' the man responded, clearing his throat. 'Now, which particular star of the military firmament do we have here?' This was at the approach of an irate-looking gul, who addressed Talat, ignoring the other man.

'What are you doing bringing civilians here?' he yelled. 'This whole area is off limits. Explain yourself immediately!'

Talat swallowed, 'Sir, I...'

The Order man cut through his babbling, addressing the gul directly. 'What's your name, soldier?'

The gul stared at him in amazement, as if a worm had suddenly looked up and spoken to him. 'Just who do you think you...?' he started to exclaim.

Again the man cut through. 'Perhaps you'd better check my identification,' he said smoothly, and held out his left wrist, offering the implant for inspection. Confusion was the dominant expression on the gul's face as he pulled out the requisite equipment and scanned the chip. He read the results and alarm replaced confusion. 'My sincere apologies, sir,' he gulped. 'I'd no idea you were in the area...' He pulled himself together. 'Gul Temeny, Second Battalion, Fourth Order, sir. What do you need from us?'

The man smiled at him. 'A few minutes of your time, Temeny, that's all. I want to know how the evacuation is proceeding.'

Temeny relaxed. Asking a Cardassian soldier to recite his orders was by far the best way to put him at ease. 'The first priority was to prepare all equipment for removal from the area, sir. This took thirteen hours - the fastest time for any battalion in this province, sir,' he preened, 'and we completed this yesterday evening...'

The man held up a hand to stop him. 'So why are you still here?'

'I'm sorry, sir?'

'If all your equipment is packed, why are you still here, nearly a day later?'

Temeny blinked from a momentary confusion but took the question at face value. Talat, who had spent more than a week now in the company of the Order agent, recognized the tone of voice, and winced slightly in anticipation of the onslaught that was bound to come.

'Our orders are to cleanse the town and treat the soil before withdrawing, sir,' Temeny answered.

'Is that right?' said the man with evident distaste at the series of euphemisms he had just heard.

'It's not as if they don't deserve it, sir,' Temeny added, a little defensively. 'The Resistance has been ambushing our troop convoys as they're leaving.'

The agent appeared to have stopped listening, but was watching the battalion carrying out their instructions about him. Then he turned back to face the soldier and spoke very quietly. 'Gul Temeny, this is a direct order. I want you and your men away from here within an hour. Stop what you're doing and get out.'

Temeny cleared his throat. The man was clearly angry, for some reason Temeny couldn't quite grasp. 'Sir, can I ask why?'

Elim Garak turned to look at him, his pale blue eyes making his gaze cold. '_Why_?' He looked back at the blackened, poisoned town. 'Because this is an _obscenity_.'

-------------------------------

Chapter I: After This Our Exile (part 1)



The _Defiant_ bridge; Stardate 48724.3 [September 2371]

'I'm picking up a high concentration of tetryon particles again, Benjamin,' Dax said, her voice cutting calmly through the tension which had gripped the bridge of the _Defiant_ for hours since they had entered the Gamma Quadrant in pursuit of Odo, Garak - and Tain's fleet.

'Is it what we think it is, Lieutenant?' Sisko queried, grateful for her quiet composure, and doing his best to match it.

There was a pause. 'Yes. It's Tain's fleet. There don't appear to be any ships missing.' She turned to her commanding officer. 'Benjamin, that can only mean one thing...'

Sisko nodded. 'That Tain has succeeded in his attack on the Founder's homeworld, and that very soon _we_ are going to be in the middle of a war zone...'

Bashir sucked in a breath. 'Are you sure?'

'Doctor, I don't for a moment believe that the Dominion are going to sit back and allow the destruction of their gods to pass unpunished. Very soon, I think we'll see a Jem'Hadar fleet passing through the wormhole on its way to Cardassia. Dax, it's time for us to go home.'

She nodded her agreement. 'Setting course for the wormhole, Benjamin.'

Kira left her position and came to speak quietly to Sisko, trying to keep her voice calm. 'Commander, if that fleet has survived, it means that there's still a good chance that Odo is alive...'

Sisko looked back at her gravely. 'I know, Major. But there's very little we can do right now. Once this situation has played itself out, then we can request information about the Constable...'

Kira burnt with fierce frustration. 'Commander, they could be doing _anything_ to him...'

'I'm sure Garak would do all he could to prevent that,' Bashir said confidently.

Kira turned on him in disbelief. 'You have got to be joking... Don't tell me you trust that conniving, murderous _liar_?'

Bashir flushed slightly. 'When I met Tain, he left me with the distinct impression that Garak was no longer in favour. I think that perhaps we should be worrying about both of them, that's all.'

Before Kira could respond, Sisko raised a hand; his voice was quiet but firm. 'This is a discussion that can wait until we're back at the station. For the moment we'll assume that both Odo _and_ Garak are being held by Tain. Our priority at the moment is to get back to the Alpha quadrant. We have a station, the wormhole, and Bajor to think about.'

Dax spoke again. 'Benjamin, we're intercepting a transmission from Cardassia Prime. Tain is being instructed to present himself before the Detepa Council and explain his actions.'

'Well, I bet that'll fill him with dread,' muttered Kira.

'Don't underestimate the Central Command, Major,' Sisko responded. 'If the Jem'Hadar really do come through the wormhole, Cardassia is going to need all the firepower it can get. I doubt Tain's fleet is strong enough to swing the Council behind him. It's the military that Cardassia will need right now.'

-----------------------------------

Detepa Council Chamber, Cardassia City, Cardassia Prime; Stardate 48727.0

_There are still thirty-three steps up to the entrance of the Council building,_ Garak marvelled, as he reached the top a split second after Tain. _Cardassia really hasn't changed at all while I've been away. She's just as beautiful as I remember..._

He held open the broad wooden doors, each carved with the symbol of the Union, allowed Tain to pass through, then strode after him along the main entrance hall towards the Council Chamber. It was a familiar walk, one they had done together on many occasions. The white walls were lined with stone tablets, row upon row of names of those who had served the Union across her glorious history. It was good to walk this way again. He could feel himself energized by every step, could feel the rush of power returning to him, revitalizing him. _This is where I should be - at the heart of Cardassian politics. Not rotting away on a Bajoran space station, toadying to third-rate Federation lieutenants..._

They entered the Chamber, a wide sun-drenched room with rows of dark wood benches opposing each other. A frenzy of voices greeted them. The Council was in special session, debating the legality of the Order's recent actions. Tain made his way to his usual seat. Across the floor, the Cardassian military brayed for his blood.

Covert operations and open council meetings did not, as a rule, mix. Tain attended meetings of the Detepa Council in his capacity as a Legate, but his real status was an open secret. For the three or four years prior to his exile, at the height of his influence, Garak had also attended regularly as one of Tain's 'advisers': another well-known euphemism. Everyone had known who he was, just how much power he held. They had gleefully watched his spectacular fall from grace. And now they could see that he was back, as if he had never been away. _A force to be reckoned with, gentlemen, and don't you forget it,_ he thought, as he smirked at the assembled ranks from Central Command, who glared back with naked hatred. _I've outmanoeuvred you before; I'll do it again._

He took his old seat to the right of Tain, leaned back as he had done time and time before, stretching out his legs and looking up through the glass ceiling. The sunlight streamed through, baking the Chamber, and he exulted in every single ray of light. _I'd forgotten it was possible to feel so warm._

He realized he could hear several people behind him trying to attract his attention. He twisted in his chair and saw three or four Order members he had known before his exile, each clamouring his name and wanting to be the first to shake his hand and welcome him back. _I remember you were my friends once - and then suddenly you all disappeared. It's funny how popular a man becomes when he sits right next to Enabran Tain._

Another voice overrode the bleating of the sycophants. Garak turned and smiled to see Erak Brun. The only man who had stayed in touch during his exile; the only one who had always somehow managed to leave open a channel that Garak could use. 'Garak,' he said. 'Should've known the next time I saw you you'd be masterminding a coup.'

He took Brun's hand warmly. 'It's good to see you again, Brun.'

Brun's grasp was just as affectionate. 'Welcome back.' He nodded at Tain. 'Back where you belong.' And they both laughed.

The Presider hammered for order, trying to calm down the assembly so that the proceedings could begin. Brun glanced over to the rows of legates and guls who represented the core of the Central Command. 'We'll get those in-bred bastards this time. I know we will.'

Garak looked across at the anxious, sweating faces of the cream of the Cardassian military. 'D'you know, I think this time you may be right...'

-----------------------------------

Obsidian Command, Cardassia City, Cardassia Prime; Stardate 48727.3

'This is a _disaster_!' Tain raged later that evening. 'I should throw the lot of you to the military and let them shoot you as the bunch of worthless traitors you are!'

Tain's inner circle sat in silence around the table, waiting fearfully for his wrath to dissipate, each hoping that he or she would not somehow merit special attention. At the centre of the table, where Mila had left them, stood four open bottles of kanar, daring someone to make a move and pour from them.

Fifteen minutes in, the Council meeting had been interrupted by the arrival of a communiqué from listening posts along the Bajoran border. They reported that a massive Jem'Hadar fleet had passed through the wormhole into the Alpha Quadrant and was heading towards Cardassian space. Four minutes later, a transmission had been received from the commander of the fleet, a Vorta named Weyoun, declaring war on the Cardassian Union and Romulan Empire, demanding the return of the hostage Odo, and promising the Cardassians and Romulans that they were facing complete annihilation. Within minutes, the Romulan Senate had issued a statement offering to hand over all those Tal Shiar officers involved in the attack. There had, as yet, been no response from the Vorta, and the fleet was approaching Cardassian space at a terrifying rate. The Detepa Council looked close to making the same offer themselves.

Tain had initially downplayed all the news to the Council, giving his intelligence on the likely size of the Jem'Hadar fleet. The military was briefly placated. Then another transmission from the listening posts came in. The fleet was about seven times the size of Tain's prediction. The Council Chamber had exploded. Somewhere along the line, there had been a serious blunder in the Order. Garak simply could not believe what he was hearing. Cardassia was facing a major war that she was in no position to fight.

He leaned round the back of Tain, hiding his furious expression from the raucous ranks of the military. '_What have you part-timers been doing?'_ he snarled at Korinas.

'_Now is neither the time nor the place for one-upmanship, Garak,_' she hissed back.

Tain leaned back into his seat, breaking up their conversation, his face seemingly benign. He spoke very quietly through gritted teeth. '_I would prefer it if you two quarrelled on your own time. I want a way out of this, and I want it now.'_

Thus the Council meeting had, indeed, been a complete disaster. Only a substantial amount of persuasion on Tain's part, with Garak whispering urgently in one ear and Korinas in the other, got them out of the Chamber without being placed under arrest. And now the highest level of the Obsidian Order was engaged in some healthy bloodletting. Garak had watched with mild amusement as Korinas managed to evade responsibility, and even implicate a nervous and sweating Surjak. _People never change,_ Garak thought. _Some remain snakes, and some remain victims. _Brun wisely kept his head down. Although he had no responsibility for the débâcle, this would not prevent him from being a target for Tain's fury. It was better to stay quiet and avoid attention. Garak himself had been languishing on Deep Space Nine when the whole operation had been put in motion - at least this was something for which he could not possibly be blamed.

_They were always all useless,_ Garak thought, looking away. _Self-important mediocrities jockeying for position, incapable of implementing anything beyond the simplest strategy. This would never have been allowed to get past me. Tain, you really should have brought me back sooner..._

He stood by the window, looking out across the garden. They were at Tain's town house, where these strategy meetings had always been conducted, in the library. The room was wood-panelled, heavy and dark; outside the evening was turning into a still, warm night. The garden was lush and green; the strong scent of the alamanth flowers wafted through the open window. It was a perfect Cardassian dusk. Garak breathed in the perfumed air, feeling a deep sense of joy, then turned back to the room.

The Jem'Hadar fleet was now eight hours from Cardassia Prime. But Garak didn't feel like dying quite yet. He'd only just got home - and it was too beautiful a night.

He walked over to the table, reached for a glass, and poured himself some kanar. There was an agonized hush. Tain was wound up as tightly as a spring. 'Garak, have you been listening to a _single word_ I've been saying?' he whispered.

Garak gazed at him and smiled. As happened so often when he looked at Tain, it seemed that the room became empty. Everything else was inconsequential. When he spoke, it was to Tain alone, and it was with pure, incontestable confidence.

'I can solve this, Enabran, and I'll have the Order in power within two days. I promise.'



-----------------------------------

Obsidian task force flagship; four hours from Cardassia Prime; Stardate 48728.4

Odo was starting to admit to himself the possibility that perhaps he was afraid. It was now three days since Garak had wrenched out of him the admission that he wanted to go home. Since then, Odo had neither spoken to, nor seen, anyone. He had thought that he had felt the ship come into dock at one point, and had expected someone to come and kill him shortly afterwards. But there had been nothing. Then, maybe four hours ago, he had felt the ship leaving dock again. He fidgeted. It would soon be time for him to regenerate, but he did not want to leave himself vulnerable.

The door opened. Odo stood up and watched the entourage that entered with growing unease. First came three Cardassians, two male, one female, none of whom he recognized. He saw that one of them carried the device which Garak had used to torture him. This did not bode well. Next came a Vorta, followed by two Jem-Hadar soldiers. The Vorta bowed deeply.

'Founder,' he breathed, the word a prayer and a sigh of relief. 'I am relieved to see that you are well. I promise that this will soon be over. We will take our revenge on these murderers for their terrible, terrible crime.'

Odo felt a sudden stab of grief. So the attack had been successful after all. His eye fell bitterly on the final two people to enter - Enabran Tain, followed closely by...

'Garak,' Odo said, accusingly. 'What have you done?'

At the sound of his name, Garak looked sharply at him, eyes glinting. Odo frowned. The Cardassian was almost unrecognizable. There was something feverish about him, an intensity and focus that had transformed him. Odo remembered with sudden insight that he had seen a glimpse of this before, on the bridge of the _Defiant_ when they had taken Garak with them to Cardassia Prime to rescue Kira from the Obsidian Order. Garak had got them past a Cardassian ship through nothing more than sheer force of personality. _I was troubled by that,_ Odo reflected, _but I don't think we ever really realized just how close it was to the truth._

Garak was looking at Odo now as if the shapeshifter were a complete stranger. _There'll be no help from there_, Odo thought, _but it may well be my only chance..._

'Start the device,' Garak murmured to the glinn who had carried it in. 'Ambassador Weyoun,' he said to the Vorta, 'if you step round here, you'll be able to see more clearly.'

'Garak,' Odo said, speaking loudly and clearly, in the hope that he could make some sort of contact. 'Don't do this. There's nothing that I can tell you, you know that. Whatever you think this can achieve, it will only be disastrous in the end...' He stopped speaking as he sensed his body lock again, felt the ripple of panic go through him as his metabolism struggled against the unnatural constraint.

Garak was speaking now, calmly, almost as if giving a public lecture. 'The device prevents the body from changing shape,' he was explaining to Weyoun. 'Very rapidly, we begin to see deterioration...'

A small piece flaked away from Odo's arm.

'Ah, there we are!' said Garak, as if with satisfaction that his point had been proven so quickly. 'The speed of the decline increases really rather rapidly.'

'Garak...' Odo tried again, but Garak started to talk over him.

'We imagine that the degeneration would lead eventually to death - of course, it's not an entirely pleasant way to die. As we watch, I think you'll see that Odo will start to feel more and more pain...'

The face of the Vorta had gone very white. More and more pieces started to fall away from Odo's body. Odo shuddered as he was suddenly wracked with pain. Weyoun shivered in sympathy. One of the Jem'Hadar soldiers stepped up beside him. '_The Founder...?'_ he said. Weyoun raised a hand, stopping the interruption. He didn't speak, and appeared to be weighing his options.

It seemed to go on for an age. Odo's condition worsened, more and more of his body peeling away. The Jem'Hadar soldiers were ever more agitated, the Vorta's face grew paler and his body tauter. Garak increased in intensity, his eyes locked on Weyoun's face. The three Cardassians grew more troubled as the tension in the room rose unbearably. Only Tain seemed unruffled, his face bearing an expression of slight amusement, his gaze flickering backwards and forwards, from Odo, to Weyoun, to Garak.

Odo shuddered again, worse than he had done yet. His face was now a hideous travesty of its usual composed self.

'We are not going to release him, Weyoun,' Garak said very quietly. 'We can stop and start this over and over again. Odo will be in almost permanent torture. Is that _really_ what you want to happen to your one remaining god?'

There was a dreadful pause. Then Odo went into spasm again, more flakes crumbling from his agonized face and body.

Weyoun suddenly spoke. 'Please, _stop _this!' he whispered. His blanched face was traumatized. 'Please! We'll do _whatever_ you ask!'

Garak hesitated for a moment then nodded to the glinn, who stepped forward and pressed the buttons on the stasis device. In an instant, Odo started to dissolve, his shredded body released from the field, and collapsing into its natural gelatinous state, fragments returning to the shattered whole. He seemed to sigh, but the sound was so slight it was impossible to be sure. As Odo melted, the tension seemed simultaneously to dissolve from Weyoun's body, to be replaced with defeat.

'Glinn Rolat,' Garak murmured. 'Please escort Ambassador Weyoun to his quarters. Legate Tain and I shall join him shortly to... _assist_ him draft his instructions to the Jem'Hadar fleet.'

The four Order officers watched the broken Vorta depart, then Garak turned to Tain, a broad smile covering his face. 'Almost too easy, isn't it?'

Tain started to laugh. 'For you, Garak, at any rate! Sheer brilliance, as ever, my friend!' He moved forward and grasped Garak's hand warmly. Garak returned the gesture, taking hold of Tain's arm. The two men beamed at each other. 'Brilliance,' repeated Tain. 'Wouldn't you agree, Korinas, Surjak?' He glanced sharply at the other members of his high command.

'Absolutely,' said Korinas smoothly.

Surjak nodded slowly. 'Brilliance,' he echoed a little faintly, then added, 'And what, precisely, happens next?'

Garak answered him immediately. 'Control of Odo gives us control of the Dominion fleets. And with those behind us, Central Command is no longer a serious threat to us. Nonetheless, I suggest that we make sure we have completely secured control of the Council.' He smiled broadly at his colleagues, and clapped his hands together. 'I don't know about you, but there are a number of guls that I, at least, would like to see dead by the end of the week.'

-------------------------------

Chapter I: After This Our Exile (part 2)

West Central District, Cardassia City, Cardassia Prime; Stardate 48730.4

There are few sounds as universally terrifying as a knock on the door in the middle of the night. The maid opened the door fearfully, and her eyes widened to see a man in civilian clothes flanked by two large, armed troopers on the step.

'Ralenda, who is it?' A tall man came up behind her, and she dived back into the house. The man looked out and his face was suddenly filled with rage. '_You!_'

The man on the step smiled. 'Dukat. I might have known you'd be the sort of man who wore his uniform at home.'

'At least I have a uniform to wear. I'm not some upstart who weasels his way past the chain of command...'

Garak cut him off with a short laugh. 'Wake up, Dukat! The world's changing!'

A woman in a red-patterned robe came to the door from a room off the hallway, her long black hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes bright with fear. 'What's happening?' A boy of about twelve followed close behind her. Her eye fell on Garak. '_I know who you are...'_ she whispered.

Garak smiled broadly and inclined his head politely. 'Madam, please forgive the intrusion. I'm here to escort your husband to answer a few questions regarding his association with a number of undesirable elements.'

'_What?_' Dukat looked incredulous. His wife raised one hand to her mouth, the other reaching out urgently to clutch her son.

Garak continued to address the woman very softly. 'I once told your husband that I was quite prepared to remove two generations of his family. I'm not a needlessly vindictive man, but might I suggest, madam, that to prevent that tally reaching _three_,' and here he looked at the boy, 'you remove yourself and your children from the capital by the morning.'

Dukat lunged towards Garak. 'You filthy, _murderous_...' He was cut off as one of the troopers smashed him across the face, knocking him to the ground. The boy began to sob.

Garak pursed his lips in distaste. 'Get him in the flyer,' he said to the troopers, nodding at Dukat. Each grabbed Dukat by an arm, pulled him up and bundled him into the back of the waiting flyer. As Garak turned to go, he felt a hand on him. The woman was in tears.

'My husband..?' she asked faintly.

'Will not be coming back. Good night, madam.' As he got into the front of the flyer, Dukat was mid-bluster in the back.

'You won't get away with this, Garak. Central Command won't allow this to go unchecked...'

'Save your breath, Dukat. There won't be much left of the Central Command by the time the night's over.'

'This is an _abomination..._'

Garak smiled. 'You and your colleagues always did underestimate the Order. We've always outclassed you. That is - ' he smiled, '- that _was_ the perennial problem for the military. Amateurism. An obsession with social standing.'

'It all still rankles, doesn't it, Garak?' sneered Dukat.

'Rankles? On the contrary, Dukat. This is the most satisfying night of my life.' He turned to one of the troopers. 'I think we're far enough away now. You can order the squad in to collect the rest of them.'

A tragic realization dawned on Dukat's face. He started to struggle against the troopers. 'My family! Leave them alone, you butcher - they've done _nothing_ to you!'

Garak looked back at him scornfully. 'I've already had one vengeful Dukat scion plaguing me for twenty years. Did you really think I was going to allow another one to grow up to be an irritation?' He smiled to get the reaction he had wanted, as Dukat howled in impotent rage and struggled against his restraints.

'Yes, Dukat,' he repeated, 'This really is the most satisfying night of my life.'

It was a pattern repeated across the city, across the whole nation - old scores were settled, old enemies removed. At first light the following morning, the cull over, the Obsidian high command went back to the Chamber, dissolved the Detepa Council and, as Garak had promised, took control of the Cardassian government.

-----------------------------------

North Western District; Cardassia City, Cardassia Prime; Stardate 48732.8

He had forgotten how much he owned.

He passed through the house as if in a dream, touching objects he had suppressed all memory of; peering into room after room, unable to believe that all this space was his. How had he ever accustomed himself to such a truncated and straitened life on DS9? How had he been able to bear it? The answer, of course, was that he had not, and that being away from his home, no matter how hard he had tried to forget it, had almost killed him.

He sat for a time in his study, a warm and tasteful room stacked with his books. How tired he was of reading from padds, how pleasant it was to handle a real book again. He had fallen asleep for a little while on his own bed, exhausted from the events of the previous week and completely relaxed for the first time in four years. He had delighted at rediscovering the cellar with his fine collection of vintage kanar. He knew he would spend weeks rediscovering his home, so familiar, and yet so new.

Now he stood in his garden, sipping an impeccable '59. He set down the glass and traced a finger along the low wall that acted as protection against the drop below. The house was perched on the mountainside, the city busy in the valley below. The terrace he stood on caught the sun in the day, stayed warm into the late evening. It had been his favourite spot for reflection in the past; he would come here and watch the city that he loved so much teeming below. _A week ago I was stuck in that accursed shop. I can't believe I'm really here again..._

He had always travelled a great deal - had not, of course, been here at the villa for years now - but this place, this city, had always been home. He knew its alleyways, its people - its secrets. It was the heart of the Union, the symbol of everything he had worked for. He loved it like nothing else.

As a young man, Garak had lived deep in the north side of the city, an unfashionable area inhabited by prostitutes, drug addicts, the illegitimate - all the dregs of Cardassian society. It was the home of those homeless, drifting people who spend their sad, splintered days on the periphery of real life. He had loved it there, had been at complete ease in this fractured, alienated community of the lost (never admitting to himself why). In time, all of polite society would pass through, and when they did, Garak was waiting - watching the legates who slept with whores, the guls who kept their boyfriends in attic rooms, the senior civil servants twitching and desperate for a fix. Out on the fringe - but admitted to the centre as it suited Tain - only Garak saw the whole picture of Cardassian life, and he used the knowledge mercilessly, in the interrogation room, for blackmail, furthering Tain's power and, by extension, his own. When his career progressed, he was often away from Cardassia Prime and, when he was back, he would retreat to this new home: distanced from the city but somehow still intimate, still watching. At his zenith, Tain's unquestioned successor, he had inevitably been pulled back into the city, directing it from the centre, surveying it from here, its edge. The starscape which for four years had supplanted this view had been no match for it; it had offered no insight, only silence and cold.

He heard a footfall behind him and looked round to see his wife. The night had become chilly, he noticed.

'Welcome home,' she said.

He turned away from her, back to his one true love, Cardassia Prime. She came up beside him, resting a glass next to his, and looked at him expectantly. He sighed. 'You didn't waste much time coming back, Lyssa. But then you always had a keen eye for opportunity.'

'Please let's not argue. It's good to see you again. The house is just as you left it.'

He cast a sideways glance at her. He didn't for a moment believe that had anything to do with her, suspecting Mila's hand in the preservation of the haven that lay behind him. 'I thought you'd been living in the country,' he said coolly.

'It was easier for the girls. After you went away... we couldn't stay in the city. We were ostracized. It was hard. None of their friends would talk to them. None of _ours_ would talk to _me_. I was so angry, so _alone_...'

He felt a stab of shame. It was not what she could have expected when she had agreed to marry him. Lyssa had been bred to be a society wife, a bargaining chip in the marketplace that was Cardassian family politics. Tain himself had wanted the marriage. Lyssa's family had been unsure - there had been whispers about Garak's uncertain parentage, about his reputation for unorthodoxy... But his star was so obviously in the ascendant. Garak knew Tain wanted it and, therefore, there was no question as to whether he would consent.

In many respects, it was an ideal partnership. She gloried in her role and watched his meteoric career progression with rapture. With the arrival of their children, he was finally part of the family unit he had craved all his life. But their temperaments were irreconcilable. Her humourless ambition he found distasteful, and she was no match for his wit. She, in turn, was frustrated, frightened even, by his open contempt for whole swathes of Cardassian high society; his brilliance, dependent on a flaunted individuality, made her insecure. In time, the only thing they had in common was a profound passion for their children. They lived in uneasy compromise: she effectively ignoring him, he restraining himself from insulting her at every turn. In public, they shone: the beautiful, brilliant wife; the charming, powerful husband; the pretty little girls; the perfect example of Cardassian family life. And then his exile had exploded it all.

'What did you do?' he asked, guilt lacing his voice with much more warmth than he actually felt.

'It was Tain, of all people, who helped. He contacted me, asked me to come to see him. He'd found me a house, close to my parents' retirement home in Bratassa. We went out there, lived very quietly. And then I heard you were back...' She paused. 'We were married a long time, you know. Perhaps we could pick up where we left off.' She reached out a hand, and he jerked his own away. _Friends reappear when you stand next to Tain. And wives, it transpires..._

'As I recall,' he replied, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice, 'where we left off was you swearing at me and calling me - what was it now? Oh yes - a 'filthy traitor'. Precisely which part of our marriage are you interested in recreating? The mutual contempt? Or perhaps the stony silences. You have to admit, my dear, it's not the most tempting of offers.' He looked away in disdain, then added, muffling his voice slightly to disguise any shaking, 'Where are the girls?'

She didn't answer straight away. It was her final hold over him. Eventually she shook her head. 'In the living room.'

He started, his face a picture of disbelief. 'They're _here_? And you _seriously_ thought I wanted to talk to you rather than to them? Your capacity for self-delusion remains incomparable, Lyssa!'

She flushed angrily. 'And you are as arrogant and as _hateful_ as... as...' She floundered, tears springing into her eyes.

He sneered. 'My dear wife - razor-sharp as ever. Excuse me, Lyssa, there are people I'd much rather be talking to.' He headed back towards the house, trying to control himself, but eventually breaking into a run which took him in seconds to the room where his daughters were and the happiest moment of his entire life.



---------------------------------

Deep Space Nine; Stardate 48733.9

The mood in the ward room was grave. The sudden and inexplicable news had just been received that the Dominion had signed a peace treaty with the Cardassian Union, and that the entire Jem'Hadar fleet was under the authority of the new head of the Cardassian government, Enabran Tain. Starfleet Intelligence had also just cracked a Cardassian internal communication which noted the appointment to Legate of one Elim Garak.

Without a word, Sisko cut the communication from Starfleet Intelligence. Silence fell, as each of the senior officers tried to wrestle with the ramifications of this news.

'Well,' said Kira. 'At least we now know which side Garak is on.'

'Sir,' Bashir interjected, somewhat uncertainly, 'Is this _all_ bad? Perhaps with a shift in power, the Cardassians will be too caught up in internal affairs to cause the rest of us trouble...?'

Dax shook her head. 'I don't think so, Julian. What we're looking at now is a newly invigorated Cardassian Union. And a powerful Cardassia tends to have only one thing on its mind - conquest.'

Kira paled. 'This is not good news for Bajor,' she said.

Sisko nodded. 'You're right, Major. There's only one natural target for a revitalized Cardassia.' He stood up. 'I think we need to start preparing for war.'

-------------------------------

Interlude: Cardassia Prime; April 2368

To sit in darkness here Hatching vain empires.

Milton, Paradise Lost



It had been a heated argument, lasting well into the evening, and they were all privately glad to have stopped for a while. When they reconvened, it proved to be a very brief session. Tain thanked them all for their contributions and told them his decision - that the Obsidian Order would continue to support the military's current evacuation policy on Bajor. And then he invited them all to move to the dining room.

The library emptied quickly. Korinas had a broad smile across her face. Brun hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Garak, before shaking his head slightly and leaving. Garak himself stayed in his seat, tapping one finger against the side of his glass. Tain, halfway through the door, saw him, and moved back into the room, closing the door behind him.

'You seem unhappy, Elim,' he said.

Garak looked up at him bitterly. 'If you had already made up your mind, why did you bring me back from Bajor? It seems rather a waste of time for all concerned.' He turned his attention back to drumming the glass.

Tain raised an eye ridge. 'You _are_ unhappy.' He moved closer to the other man's seat. 'You had the chance to put your case, like everyone else. Korinas did a better job of it.'

'Korinas,' Garak snorted. 'If her ambition were any more palpable we'd be wading in it.'

Tain chuckled. 'That's a little disingenuous coming from you, wouldn't you say?'

Garak's eyes flashed. 'You know very well that my first priority is always what's best for Cardassia - '

'Well, make sure you keep it that way,' Tain cut through.

Garak looked up at him sharply. 'What _precisely_ do you mean by that?'

'What you did on Bajor vastly exceeded your authority - which, by the way, is why I brought you back. I don't like having to face the Central Command and explain away lapses of judgement on the part of my senior officers.'

Garak laughed shortly and without humour. 'A 'lapse of judgement' - is that how you see it?'

'It's preferable to seeing it as a question of your loyalty,' Tain said coolly.

'A question of my _loyalty.._?' Garak pushed back his chair and stood up, facing the older man in astonishment. 'Enabran, my loyalty is to Cardassia, the same it's always been!'

There was a chilly pause. 'I was rather hoping you'd say it was to _me_,' Tain answered mildly.

Garak stiffened. 'That goes without saying.'

'I see.'

Garak leaned in towards Tain, gripping the table hard with both hands, his voice low and urgent. 'Please, Enabran, listen to me. This is a bad mistake. If we reduce Bajor to rubble, the Federation will step in and take over. A stable, independent Bajor means less Federation influence on our borders. That can only be good for Cardassia.'

'It's very odd to hear an Obsidian Order agent arguing the case for an independent Bajor,' Tain replied, his voice again deceptively calm.

Garak knew the other man too well to be fooled, but he kept on talking. It was too important not to. 'Bajor is _lost_. This is _pointless_ revenge. Every day we delay the Resistance takes the chance to attack another troop convoy. We should get those men back home as soon and as safely as we can and leave them to it. The Bajorans aren't the enemy any more. The sector's changing - we have the _Federation_ to think about.'

'And what sort of message does it send the Federation, if we pull out of Bajor without a fight?' Tain responded, his anger clearly mounting. 'That Cardassia is weak, perhaps? That we can't even defeat an inferior race..?'

'Perhaps they'll see that we're shrewd enough to leave behind a defiantly independent nation that will react very badly to any suggestion of Federation influence!' Garak calmed down, shook his head. 'This problem has been waiting for us since day one. We were already over-extended when we went into Bajor. We should never have invaded in the first place, and now we should just get out.'

'You might do well to recall that it was _I_ who orchestrated the annexation of Bajor, Garak,' Tain said softly.

There was a long silence. Garak rubbed his hand across his forehead. He breathed deeply, and made to reply, his hands raising in a placatory gesture. Before he could say anything, Tain spoke, his voice still soft.

'We lost - are _still_ losing - _countless_ lives thanks to that ridiculous Resistance of theirs. And you want that to go _unpunished_?' His voice was rising with his temper. 'How does this constitute patriotism? How can this be 'good for Cardassia'? And when did you develop such grossly sentimental opinions about our colonies? Do I now have to suffer listening to officers that I nurtured spouting _treason_?'

Garak didn't answer, just looked down at the table, and Tain calmed himself down slightly. 'Since you appear not to have understood what I said only five minutes ago, let me repeat myself in plain language. The withdrawal from Bajor will continue as the Central Command has planned - _with_ the backing of the Obsidian Order. _You_ will stop this misguided and _bizarre_ one-man crusade and fall back into line with this policy. Is that clear?'

Garak swallowed then nodded. 'Yes, Tain.' He turned to go, rather shaken. It had been a very long time since he had received such an unequivocal reprimand. As he reached out to touch the door handle, Tain spoke again.

'Don't do anything you might regret, Garak.'

He turned back to look directly at him and smiled. 'Have I ever?' he replied, trying to lighten the mood between them.

Tain came towards him, and Garak could see the glittering of the old man's eyes. 'After today, I rather suspect I wouldn't know.'

Garak opened the door and, as always, stepped back to let Tain through first.

-------------------------------

Chapter II The Crimson Shadow (part 1)



Obsidian Command, Cardassia City, Cardassia Prime; October 2371

'I seem to recall that we have had this discussion before,' Korinas said with pointed sarcasm. 'You always were sentimental about the Bajorans, Garak. Your time amongst them has made you even more starry-eyed.'

Garak stared back at her coldly. Brun looked up at the ceiling, and Surjak shifted nervously in his seat. Tain just smiled. Garak's exile, and the circumstances surrounding it, had, since his return, been a taboo subject amongst the Order elite. If Tain was now happy to have Garak back, the unspoken theory went, then everyone else was too.

Eventually, Brun cleared his throat. 'That was uncalled-for, Amela,' he said mildly.

She scowled at him. 'And your tendency towards hero-worship was always revolting, Erak.'

Brun was a famously equable man, but it was clear that even his easy temper was not going to stand for that. Garak put a hand on his arm. 'Let it pass, Erak,' he said and turned to address Korinas. 'While I find your appetite for revenge laudable, Korinas, may I remind you that we have more immediate problems than retaking Bajor? I take it you have bothered to acquaint yourself with the contents of the communication from Starfleet requesting the immediate surrender of Odo to the Bajorans? And how about this one from the Romulan Senate, with much the same request, but with a threat of war attached to it?' He threw the two files across the table at her.

'All the more reason for us to make a show of strength immediately.' She stopped addressing Garak, making her appeal directly to Tain. 'Withdrawing from Bajor was the greatest humiliation Cardassia has ever experienced.' She glanced at Garak briefly, as if to imply his culpability in this. 'This is our chance to demonstrate just how strong we are again.'

Tain, as usual, had been completely silent during the proceedings, although they were all constantly conscious of his brooding presence. He remained as he had been throughout, eyes half-closed, leaning back in his chair.

'Korinas,' Garak said, with the voice of a man who would soon start speaking in words of one syllable, 'We now have at our disposal the largest military fleet ever assembled. We have control of the resources of two major empires. And you want our first priority to be annexing _Bajor_?' His voice dripped scorn. 'That's not a show of strength - it's a temper tantrum.'

Tain burst out laughing. They all watched him warily, uncertain how to handle this particular piece of unpredictable behaviour. None of them tried to speak, and when Tain calmed himself down, he said, wiping his eyes, 'Well, Elim, stop keeping us guessing. What have you got in mind?'

Garak turned to Tain. 'Our biggest fear has to be that the Romulans sign some sort of treaty with the Federation in an attempt to match our strength. It's by no means a natural alliance, and it's one that will take time to emerge. So I want to get in first.'

Surjak frowned. 'But diplomatic relations with Romulus have been getting more and more tense since we refused to give them Odo and the stasis technology. Surely you're not going to hand that over?'

Garak gave him an irritated look. 'Don't be ridiculous - it's only through Odo that we control the Dominion fleets. We're going to give the Romulans something else to worry about, and then - magnanimous as we are - we're going to offer them all the help they need from the combined fleets.'

'And what exactly are we giving the Romulans to worry about?' prompted Brun quietly, one finger rubbing an eye ridge.

'A war, Brun. Against a serious opponent. Which we enter - and the conquests of which we share.'

Brun raised his eyes upwards and sighed. 'Come on, Garak, stop being so coy.'

Garak beamed around the room. 'How do you all feel about controlling half of the Klingon Empire?'



Akreth Memorial Grounds, North Western District, Cardassia City, Cardassia Prime; October 2371

Garak sat on a park bench, legs stretched out in front of him, completely relaxed, reading. Across the park his younger daughter Carissa was playing with some other children. Next to him sat his older daughter, Peyta, legs curled under her, completely engrossed in the enigma tale _Dereliction_, which he had bought for her that morning. He put down his own reading, a report of the interrogation of a gul from the old military that one of his juniors had just completed, and peered over her shoulder to see how far she was in the plot. The main character, having spent most of the book covering up a crime his wife had committed, was about to get a rather nasty comeuppance.

Garak smiled in anticipation and looked to see how Carissa was doing. She seemed to be happy, having found four other children to organize. Not for the first time, he reflected how much like her mother she was becoming.

'_Ouch_,' said Peyta, under her breath.

Garak looked back down at her. 'Have you reached the bit with the..?' he asked.

'_Yes,' _she said emphatically.

'And the..? He gestured.

'Oh yes.' She looked up at him, caught his expression, and they both laughed. She rested her head against him and turned back to the book. He put his arm fondly around her and carried on watching what was going on around him.

The park they were in was very close to the University and was a popular haunt for students. At one point, as a young, newly-recruited agent, Garak had spent a lot of time here, around people still immature enough to be indiscreet about their opinions in public places. For one highly profitable, unexpectedly enjoyable term, he had even gone undercover as a student. These days he came here because he liked the spot, and it was close to his home. He still occasionally overheard something worth knowing.

The people passed him by, and he watched them with the practiced eye of an expert observer, not distracted but only comforted by the presence of his daughter at his side. He cast his gaze farther afield, past his other daughter's campaign to bring order to this small part of the Union, and saw that a small crowd was gathering at the far end of the park.

_I should take a look at that,_ he thought. Regretfully, he tapped Peyta's arm and she shifted away.

'Keep an eye on your sister for a moment,' he murmured. 'I want to see what's so interesting over there.' He stood up but took the time to bend down and plant a kiss on the top of her head.

He passed Carissa and hesitated, but she waved him on impatiently, so he carried on his way towards the group of people. Someone was giving some sort of public lecture. The crowd around listened politely but did not interrupt or heckle. There was not much of a tradition of open-air debate on Cardassia Prime.

The talk turned out to be a curious mixture of anti-military ranting and somewhat restrained remarks about the Obsidian Order. As he listened, Garak realized that something about the speaker was familiar. _Where have I heard that voice before?_ he thought and shifted through the crowd to get a better look at the speaker, who turned out to be a young woman in her early twenties. _Well, well, well. Now, what can _she_ be doing back on Cardassia Prime, I wonder?_

The speaker came to the end of her talk. After a polite smattering of applause, the crowd quietly dispersed. Garak moved forwards and came to a stop right in front of the speaker, who was pulling together her notes.

'Tela Rekelen,' he said.

The woman's head shot up. 'You!' she said when she recognized him. 'So you made it back home after all. I _am_ glad.'

'And you also, I see.' He smiled.

She nodded. 'Once the military went out of power, we thought it was time to come back and make our opinions heard.'

'And are you having much success?' They began to walk together.

'Surprisingly, yes. I'd thought that with Tain in charge we'd soon find ourselves muzzled, but it doesn't seem to have happened. Maybe Tain doesn't fear a civilian opposition as much as the military did.'

_Believe me, my dear, we have the situation _well_ under control_, Garak thought dryly. 'Maybe not,' was all he said.

'Well, he has no need to. All we want is some serious debate, some real discussion about civilian rights; a genuine change in the way our government operates...'

_Change? Well, there's the rub. _'Tell me, my dear, whatever happened to your friend Hogue and the estimable Dr Lang?'

'Hogue is back home too - he has a teaching post at the University.' Garak filed that one away for investigation. 'Doctor Lang isn't back yet, but we hope she'll feel safe enough to return soon. She's rather more suspicious of the new regime.'

_Sensible woman. _They stopped walking, it becoming clear that they were heading in different directions. A girl of about eleven came running up. 'Father!' she hissed. 'You're standing in the way!'

Garak raised his hands in contrition and smiled ruefully at Rekelen. 'My younger daughter Carissa,' he explained, 'merely tolerates me.'

Rekelen laughed. 'I didn't know you were a family man,' she said as they withdrew slightly from Carissa's territory.

'Very much so,' said Garak. 'My older daughter,' he added, pointing at the bench where Peyta was still absorbed in her book. 'Well, Miss Rekelen, it was very good to see you again.'

'I'm glad you're back with your family,' she said warmly.

'Thank you,' he replied, then drew out a small chip from his pocket. 'And here - if there's anything you think I can do to help, please contact me.'

She took the chip then looked at him guardedly. 'What precisely is it that you do, Mister Garak?'

He smiled. 'I'm a civil servant,' he said, 'At the Ministry of Information.' He caught her slight frown; _well, she recognizes _that_ euphemism at least, _he thought. _Perhaps she's sharper than I'd thought. She may be useful._

She pocketed the chip. 'Thank you,' she said. 'That might be very useful.' And then she went off towards the University. Garak went and sat back down next to his daughter.

'Who was that?' said Peyta, not looking up from her book.

'And I thought you were engrossed in your reading,' he replied.

'You asked me to keep an eye on Carissa. I couldn't help but keep an eye on you too.' She closed the book and smiled up at him. 'Finished,' she said. 'And I liked it more than _Collusion_.'

'That's something we'll have to discuss later,' he said, feigning displeasure.

'So who was that woman, then?'

'Just someone I knew on Deep Space Nine,' he answered. She seemed to be satisfied.

The sun began to set. 'Come on,' he said, 'It's time to go. I think you'll have more success persuading Carissa to come than I will.'

As they walked towards Carissa, Peyta took his arm. 'I'm glad you're back,' she said quietly but fiercely. Very, very few people had said that to him, but somehow Peyta managed to say it every day.

'And I'm glad to be back with you,' he replied, squeezing her arm tightly in return.



Deep Space Nine; Stardate 49011.4 [January 2372]

It had been an uncertain and confusing day, one that they had only been able to observe and not alter. Around them the universe was changing, as if the strings were being pulled by some powerful puppeteer, and they could do nothing about it. At 02.41, a report had come in from Starfleet Intelligence.

'Do I _really_ need to know this, Dax?' Sisko muttered into his pillow.

'_I think you do, Benjamin_,' she said through the com. '_It seems the Klingons have assassinated a Romulan senator._'

He was out of bed in seconds, down in Ops in minutes. 'What the hell's happened, old man?' he demanded.

She glanced up from the report she was monitoring. 'It appears that a Senator Meral had been meeting her opposite number from the Klingon government on Qo'Nos. Just as her shuttle left Klingon space, it exploded.'

'Meral was one of the most pro-Klingon voices in the Romulan senate,' Sisko mused. 'Do we know yet if it was sabotage?'

'The Klingons are flatly denying any involvement,' Kira answered. 'There's been no response as yet from the Romulans. I'm guessing the Tal Shiar are investigating.'

At 16.26 the Romulans' ominous silence was broken. They confirmed that the cause of the explosion had been sabotage, that the device used bore the unmistakeable mark of Klingon technology and that, as a result, they were formally declaring war on the Klingon Empire.

'I don't understand this,' said Dax. 'Why would the Klingons assassinate a Romulan senator? Why plunge the Empire into war? And why are the Romulans so ready to accept that it's sabotage?'

It was only as the afternoon wore into evening that Starfleet Intelligence picked up enough information to put together the whole story. Apart from the incriminating evidence of the explosive, Tal Shiar investigations of the wreckage had also discovered the remains of official, and highly secret, Klingon state documents outlining the plans for an invasion of Romulan space.

'Meral must have got her hands on those documents somehow, so they blew up the ship to get rid of the evidence.' Kira shook her head. 'Bit of a risky game. They must have been desperate.'

'It still doesn't make sense,' Dax repeated determinedly. 'Why would the Empire want a war against the Romulans?'

'Come on, old man,' Sisko said. 'Their mutual loathing is the stuff of legend. Why would the Empire _not_ want a war against the Romulans? With the Cardassian Union so much stronger, perhaps they felt they needed to consolidate some territory. And if I was in their shoes, I wouldn't try to take it from the Cardassians. Not now.'

She sighed, only half-convinced, and they went back to monitoring the transmissions from Starfleet Intelligence, who were tracking the mobilization of both fleets.

At 25.13, the final inexplicable event of the whole incomprehensible day happened. A report came in that the combined Cardassian and Jem'Hadar fleet appeared also to be preparing for war. Just after this, Kira picked up an official transmission from Cardassia Prime. Enabran Tain was addressing his people.

'_Since this morning's ignominious events, my colleagues and I have been in close contact with the Romulan Senate to offer our condolences and our support..._'

'There's your explanation why the Romulans have been so ready to accept it was sabotage, Dax,' said Kira. 'They've had Tain and Garak whispering sweet nothings in their collective ear all day.'

Sisko raised a hand to quieten her.

'_...and bearing in mind our recent successful combined operation in the Gamma Quadrant and the close ties forged between our two nations as a result,_' Tain was saying, '_The Cardassian Union has pledged to assist the Romulan Empire in its pursuit of justice. Such blatant aggression as has been shown today cannot pass unchecked. This is a glorious day for our empire, as we forge a new alliance based on co-operation, as we demonstrate to all in the quadrant that the Cardassian nation...'_

Sisko cut the transmission as it degenerated into the usual bombast. 'So the Klingons find themselves facing an attack from the combined strength of three nations,' he murmured.

'At least it isn't Bajor,' said Kira passionately.

'No,' agreed Sisko thoughtfully. 'It isn't. But it should have been.'

'I'm not complaining!' she answered.

'Neither am I, Major. But why do I get the feeling that this entire day has been choreographed from start to finish?'

'Who cares?' she answered frankly. 'Bajor has some breathing space - and the Federation no longer have to worry about just how much protection you'd give us. We're all of us a little bit safer tonight.'

Dax spoke at last. 'Unless we're Klingons,' she pointed out quietly.



Special Ops Section, Ministry of Information, Central District, Cardassia City, Cardassia Prime; February 2372

Garak had personally, and with great care, designed the specifications for this set of rooms, but this was the first time he had come to see them. Security had, of course, been his prime consideration, but he had attempted to make the area as pleasant as possible for its unusual resident. Two rooms were private, but the third was exposed to visitors - with a force field firmly providing a fourth wall. The new tenant had moved in a few days earlier and Garak addressed him now through the force field.

'Odo!' he said warmly. 'I'm sorry I've not been a more attentive host. I trust your new accommodation is to your liking?'

Odo stared back at him with revulsion. 'Please don't feel too bad about neglecting me, Garak. I can imagine just how easily genocide, coups, and bloodbaths can fill the day. And with your sideline in torturing friends, I can't think how you manage to sleep at night at all.'

Garak smiled. 'Well, when the days are so busy, it's never a problem dropping off. I had the reverse problem on the station, of course. So yes, Odo, I'm very happy to be home - thank you for asking.'

'I can't imagine a ticket home that has ever been so bloodstained. What's the tally now, Garak? Are you counting the Great Link as one murder, or would you feel that didn't do justice to your achievement?'

Garak raised his hands. 'Please, Odo, you're becoming hysterical. I simply came by to make sure that you were comfortable here.'

'_Comfortable?_'

'I've tried my best, but it's difficult to judge what someone else would like. I'll be away for a little while, but do request anything from one of my aides - they'll be glad to oblige.'

'How about your head on a spike and return passage to Deep Space Nine?'

'Daytrips are out of the question, I'm afraid, and I rather suspect there's a queue for your first request.' He paused. 'I'll be visiting the station at the end of the week. I'll pass on your regards to the crew, if you'd like.'

Odo stared at him in disbelief, and it was a little while before he could contain his rage enough to answer. 'Get out of here, Garak. And don't come near me again.'

-------------------------------

Chapter II The Crimson Shadow (part 2)



Deep Space Nine; February 2372

'I swear, if he smirks just once, I'll punch him.' Dax's normally serene face was livid, and she pulled viciously at her dress uniform.

'Get in line,' muttered Kira.

'When I think what the Cardassians are doing to the Klingon colonies...' Dax continued.

Bashir frowned. 'That's hardly Garak's fault, is it? I mean, the Klingons did start this war.'

Dax looked at him in amazement. 'Julian, that's hardly the point! The counter-offensive has been merciless. You've seen what's been happening - we all have. You know full well that the Jem'Hadar are slaughtering anybody they capture! You're a _doctor, _for pity's sake - how can you defend that?'

'Jadzia, I'm not _defending _anybody. I just don't think you can blame one man for the military policy of an entire empire. And the Romulans are involved in this war too.'

Kira exploded. 'How can you talk like this! What about Odo - a colleague, someone you worked with! Garak is _directly_ responsible for what's happened to him...'

Sisko cut through the debate, speaking softly. 'This conversation ends _now_. You'll all welcome Garak as you would welcome the representative of any other foreign government. Whatever you - or I, for that matter - think of him, or his government's conduct of the war, you keep that to yourselves. Do I make myself clear?'

His senior officers subsided just in time. The airlock opened, and their guest arrived, flanked by bodyguards, and with his arm linked through that of a Cardassian girl of about sixteen. He exuded power, Sisko thought, and it suited him.

'Legate Garak,' he said. 'Welcome back to Deep Space Nine.'

'Captain Sisko! It's good to see you again. May I congratulate you on your promotion?'

Sisko nodded slightly in acknowledgement, shaking the offered hand and only just suppressing the shudder the contact engendered. 'And may I congratulate you on yours, Legate?'

Garak gestured a little dismissively. 'Merely a resumption of prior responsibilities.'

Sisko didn't show his surprise at this revelation but frowned inwardly. _We had an Obsidian Order legate on this station for _three years_, and Starfleet Intelligence didn't _know_? Why the hell do we even bother?_

'Allow me to introduce my daughter Peyta, Captain,' Garak was saying. 'This is Peyta's first trip outside of Cardassian space.'

_Nor did I know he had a family,_ Sisko reflected, realizing acutely just how little they had managed to find out about their erstwhile resident Cardassian. _She looks about Jake's age. Just think, all that time, and we could have been swapping baby stories._

'Delighted to meet you,' he said to the girl.

She smiled back a little nervously and answered, 'Thank you. It's good to be here.'

Garak greeted Dax and Kira, both of whom spoke to him through gritted teeth, but his hand hadn't left his daughter's arm, Sisko noticed. And now Garak's attention turned to Doctor Bashir.

'My dear Doctor,' he said, grasping the man's hand warmly. 'It really is a great pleasure to see you again.'

'It's good to see you again, Garak - oops, Legate, I should say,' Julian answered.

'Plain, simple 'Garak' is just fine, Doctor,' he replied, and they both laughed.

Sisko watched this exchange through narrowed eyes. He had never been keen on their familiarity, even when he was able to exert some control over an exiled Garak anxious for protection. The thought of his youngest and most inexperienced officer still apparently fascinated by a powerful and probably inimical Garak was more than displeasing - it was damn disturbing.

He broke up the little reunion. 'Legate,' he murmured, 'Allow me to escort you to your quarters...' He manoeuvred himself between Garak and the doctor, forcing Bashir to walk with Peyta, who now formed a barrier between them and Kira and Dax. He focused on trying to make small talk in what he was finding fairly bizarre circumstances. _Damn it, most men don't end up talking galactic politics with their tailor - at least, not on a professional basis..._

***

Garak appeared to thrive on all this, Sisko noted, as he glanced at the time and thought longingly of dinner. What other diplomat would meet with three officers from other governments by himself? There was meant to be some sort of psychological gain in fielding more personnel than your opposite number. Garak didn't appear to have noticed he was supposed to feel disadvantaged.

Not that he needed any support, Sisko thought grudgingly. Garak's grasp of detail had been formidable, his negotiation skills redoubtable. He was light years ahead of any of the lackeys from Central Command that had been Sisko's former points of contact with the Cardassian government. He had none of Dukat's tendency to try to threaten his way out of corners, none of the intransigence of the other guls that it had previously been Sisko's lot to deal with. It baffled Sisko that someone of such manifest ability had been left to languish on DS9 - based on his experiences with other Cardassian officials, it was clear that Cardassia did not produce people like Garak as a matter of course.

_Whatever it was that you did to get yourself kicked out, _Sisko thought,_ it must _really_ have pissed off a lot of very powerful people. _This he found very easy to believe. Garak had a tendency to irritate him within minutes.

He was now, interminably as it seemed to Sisko, reading through the final draft of an agreement over trade routes through two Federation systems bordering Cardassian space. He had already forced several concessions from the Federation on this issue - never mind his successes earlier that morning over joint action against Maquis activity. From trade negotiations to military policy to questions of diplomatic protocol, Garak had spent the last two days outclassing Sisko, Kira and Dax at every turn.

_And he's not even head of state,_ thought Sisko. _What the hell must Tain be like?_

Garak's face creased into a frown as he read part of the document extremely closely. _Come on, Garak, I'm starving,_ thought Sisko, raising his eyebrows at Dax, who grimaced in return. _We've given you everything you want. Just sign the damn thing and we can all get out of here._

Garak finally put down the document. 'I'm satisfied this is all in order,' he murmured, appending his authorization. Sisko and his team sighed in relief. 'There's just one more thing I'd like to discuss, Captain.'

Three sets of shoulders slumped. 'Please, Legate,' Sisko said wearily. 'Do go ahead.'

He glanced at each of them in turn, and smiled infuriatingly. 'Captain, so far relations between the Federation and our new government on Cardassia have been nothing but cordial. But I need to advise you that you and your allies,' he nodded at Kira, 'are seriously jeopardizing this happy state of affairs.' He paused.

'In what way, Legate?' Sisko rumbled.

'On a weekly basis now, we receive communiqués from the Bajoran government - supported by the Federation - requesting the return of Constable Odo.' He shook his head. 'Really, Captain, I don't understand what these are all about. As I said, our government has been nothing but friendly towards yours. Today, for example, has been most profitable on all sides. But this constant repetition of a single theme is beginning to prove most irritating - offensive, even. This could so easily all degenerate into an unpleasant game of tit-for-tat; you demand the return of something from us - we demand the return of something from you. This station, for example.'

'That sounds very much like a threat, Legate,' Sisko replied. 'We stop requesting the return of Odo, you don't bother DS9.'

'There's no threat, Captain. There isn't one I can realistically offer. And that's the point: there really is nothing we can do. Odo is with us of his own free will. If he _wanted_ to come back, he would do so.'

'Then why haven't you let us talk to him?' Kira demanded.

Garak was genuinely surprised. 'Has he not been in touch?' He looked at each of the three officers in turn. 'Well, that _is _something of a puzzle, I must say. He always seemed quite at home here on the station. Again, Major, all I can do is to assure you there have been no restrictions whatsoever on Odo's activities. He's free to come and go, contact - or ignore - whomsoever he chooses. If he's decided he wants no communication with the station or the Bajoran authorities, well...' He shrugged. 'I'm very sorry for you all, but that's really Odo's affair.'

Kira's jaw had dropped open. 'You _seriously _expect us to believe that?' she said.

'Odo worked for the Cardassian Union long before he did for the Bajorans, Major. Maybe he's decided he prefers our way of working after all. I must emphasize - Odo is very happy on Cardassia Prime. Besides, as the one remaining Founder, he has responsibilities of a...' he paused, trying to think of the right word, '_theological_ nature to the Vorta and the Jem'Hadar. His new role is keeping him very busy. Perhaps that's why you've had no contact from him?'

Kira's anger grew throughout this little speech. 'You murdered his entire race, and now you're holding him hostage - that's the truth of all this, Garak! Odo would _never _desert his post...'

Garak stood up. 'Thankfully, I am no longer obliged to listen to you rant, Major. As far as the Cardassian Union is concerned, this matter is now closed.'

Kira stood up to face him, clearly not in agreement at all, but as she opened her mouth to speak, the com chimed and Bashir's voice sounded through the room. '_Captain, I think you'd better come to the infirmary. I have Garak's daughter here._'

***

Bashir looked up from the tissue regenerator as Garak burst into the infirmary. He came to a screeching halt next to his daughter and grabbed her hand. Sisko and Kira were close behind.

'Peyta, what happened?' Garak cried softly, touching her cheek. 'Are you all right? I'll never forgive myself...'

Peyta shook him off gently. 'It's all right,' she said sturdily. 'I just got a couple of bruises.'

Garak glanced up at Bashir. 'Doctor, what happened?'

Bashir put the final touches to Peyta's arm. 'It appears some Klingon refugees decided to take out their frustrations on a passing Cardassian just outside the Replimat,' he said quietly.

'I'm really all right, father,' Peyta said putting her hand on his arm. 'My bodyguard had it under control in seconds. I just got jostled and tripped up, that's all...'

Garak's eyes blazed and he turned on Sisko. 'My daughter was _attacked_ on the Promenade..? Captain, this is _disgraceful_!'

Sisko nodded. 'You're quite right, Legate, I can't apologize enough,' he said, in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

'Still,' Kira added pointedly, 'You can sympathize with these people lashing out at a Cardassian. And security on the Promenade just _isn't _what it used to be.'

Sisko waited for the explosion, but it didn't come. _I must remember this man isn't Dukat_, he reflected. Garak simply turned back to his daughter. 'If you go back to our quarters, my dear, I'll be with you in about five minutes,' he murmured. She nodded; he kissed her very gently on her cheek, then she disappeared, with a smile back at him.

Garak turned to Kira and said very calmly, 'Major, if you _ever_ attempt to discuss politics in front of my daughter again, I shall cause a diplomatic incident the scale of which this sector has never seen. Do you understand?'

Kira's eyes blazed and she rounded on him. 'I guess you don't want her to hear the truth, do you? That you and your Obsidian Order colleagues are just a bunch of gangsters...'

'Of course, the Bajorans always were happy to put children in the front line...' Garak said coolly.

'Garak!' exclaimed Bashir.

Sisko cut in, raising his hand. This wasn't a diplomatic incident yet, but it would be one within seconds at this rate. 'Major, you're _way_ out of line.'

Kira glanced at Sisko's hardened face and swallowed. She turned back to Garak, jutting out her chin. 'Please accept my apologies, Legate,' she ground out.

Garak smiled silkily. 'Naturally, Major.'

Somehow she managed not to take a swing at him. _Thank God, _thought Sisko fervently, _that he's leaving tomorrow.

***

Sisko wasn't entirely happy until the Cardassian ship had passed out of sensor range. He breathed out a very long sigh and then turned to speak to Kira. _Out of the frying pan..._

'Major, could you join me in my ready room for a moment?' he said quietly.

She exchanged a puzzled look with Dax, then followed him. 'What is it, Captain?'

_She wasn't going to like this, not one bit._ 'Starfleet informed me this morning that we will no longer be adding our support to the Bajoran government's requests for the return of Odo.'

Her eyes widened in shock. 'You've got to be joking...'

'I wish I was. They've accepted that Odo has made the decision to work again for his old masters - '

'Odo would _never_ do that!'

'You and I know that, Major, but we're not the ones that need convincing. Whatever we may think, any further requests will have to come from Bajor alone. And that isn't something I would recommend, bearing in mind Cardassia's current military strength.'

She shook her head in disgust. 'So Starfleet just bowed to his threats after all. Well, I guess Bajor can sleep soundly tonight, knowing we have such powerful protectors watching over us. You know that this is just the start? How long do you think it'll be before the Cardassians decide to settle some old scores against Bajor? Just how much leeway is the Federation prepared to give them?'

His eyes glittered. 'If I had my way, Major, we'd be in there now. But the sad fact is, the powers that be don't think one man is worth going to war over. We'll just have to live with that - for the moment.'



Ministry of Information; Central District; Cardassia City, Cardassia Prime; May 2372

Give Korinas her due, Garak reflected, she had faced the executioner resolutely. Surjak on the other hand - well, he'd never really had any nerve. Garak hadn't expected him to weep so much, however. It had been rather embarrassing.

'No doubt who ran the show in that particular love nest,' Brun had murmured to Garak, as the duo fell to the ground dead. 'You've got to wonder what Korinas was doing with the little runt.'

'Have you _seen_ her husband?' Garak sniffed.

'Not yet,' Brun said. 'He's up next.' Cuckoldry was a capital offence on Cardassia Prime these days. The family was an important part of Tain's personal political philosophy, and threatening the framework of marriage, whether through infidelity or failure to retain the loyalty of one's spouse, was a serious misdemeanour in his eyes, striking, as it did, at the heart of Cardassian society. And for Order officers who did not live up to these standards, there certainly could be no mercy.

The night was poised to turn into day; the air held its breath in anticipation of dawn. They waited so that Brun could take a look at the unfortunate husband then headed back inside, not even bothering to stay to see his fate. They strode along the nondescript corridors of the Ministry, junior staff pressing against the walls to let them pass, and discussed the latest successes on the front. The fleets of the three empires had pushed past the Klingon forces as if they were nothing more than children's toys, entering and securing system after system.

'At this rate we'll reach Qo'Nos before the end of the year,' Garak said with satisfaction.

'And our plans when we get there?' Brun asked as they stepped into the lift.

Garak shrugged. 'The pleasure is in the hunt and not the kill, Brun,' he murmured.

'I've missed your particular brand of evasiveness and affectation.'

'And I've missed your admiration.' Garak pushed his hand against the security panel outside his office. 'I've been meaning to ask you,' he continued, as they entered his office, 'However did you find out about Korinas and Surjak? I would have thought that she at least would have had the sense to be discreet.'

Brun paused a moment before replying, waiting for Garak to perform a sweep for monitoring devices. People who became complacent about their offices had a tendency to end up like Korinas and Surjak. 'Excellent agent called Memad,' he finally said, when Garak nodded the all-clear. 'First-rate operative - always seems to prise out that extra detail that makes all the difference.'

Garak nodded his recognition at the name. 'Yes, I remember him. He's mostly internal affairs, isn't he? Hasn't done much off-world?'

Brun shook his head. 'He got a lot of experience while you were away. Took on a lot of the Romulan business. He brokered the deal with the Tal Shiar.'

'Well,' said Garak bitterly, 'I'm glad to hear _someone_ benefited from my absence.' He reached into the cabinet for a bottle and two glasses, placing them on his desk with a rather peevish clatter.

Brun looked at him affectionately. 'Doesn't have anything like your flair, though, does he? That whole scheme was full of holes. If you hadn't popped up with that Changeling we'd be fried.'

Garak smiled broadly. 'I was _brilliant_, wasn't I?'

'Course you were. Now stop preening and get that bottle open. It's not every day we purge the Order. I need a drink.'

Grinning, Garak poured a glass of kanar and handed the bottle to Brun, who poured one in return. Then they swapped glasses, the traditional gesture of trust and comradeship, and each man drank deeply.

Garak poured them each a refill then raised his glass. 'To friendship, Erak,' he said.

His old partner in crime looked confused. 'What _are_ you talking about now?'

Garak smiled. 'It's an Earth custom I learnt on DS9, from a friend I made there. It's called a toast. You lift up your glass, like this,' he guided Brun's hand, 'And then we tap our glasses together like _this_ - and then you say what the drink is honouring. So - to friendship.'

'I'll go with that,' said Brun easily, tapping his glass against Garak's. 'To friendship, Elim. And an enduringly successful partnership.'

They drank deeply again. Brun's mouth twitched. 'Close friend, was he, Elim?'

Garak sighed. 'Alas, not close enough.'

'Well,' said Brun comfortingly, topping up their glasses. 'You know, sometimes you just have to live with disappointment.'

The sun rose in that second, pouring white light into the room. Elim Garak and Erak Brun, who had been friends for over thirty years and were now, after Enabran Tain, the two most powerful men in the quadrant, took one look at each other and dissolved into laughter.



-------------------------------

Interlude: Terok Nor; July 2368

To be in hell is to drift; to be in heaven is to steer.

Shaw, Man and Superman



Belar Marel woke with a start and panicked. It was not until she had checked the time and reassured herself that she was not late that her breathing steadied, and she calmed down. A critical mission, she had been told. The future of Bajor depended on it. _It would be typical of me to sleep through the end of the occupation._

She slid out of her hidey-hole, one of many such places the Resistance were able to use to their advantage on Terok Nor, and started to make her slow way down into the bowels of the station to the rendezvous point. She was first there. She wrapped her ragged jacket around her more tightly, shivering. Down here, where the spoonheads never came, the station was bitterly cold. Two levels up and the heat was stifling. You were either freezing or boiling. Just part of the joy of Terok Nor.

She heard a noise behind her and swung round, reaching for her ancient phaser. Old gear, shipped in for a fortune from Tzenketh, and used and reused across decades in the struggle to free Bajor.

Too late. Two Cardassian soldiers - a glinn and a cadet, both with weapons trained on her. 'Put it down, and kick it away,' ordered the glinn.

She did as she was told, tears forming in her eyes. _A critical mission... They should never have trusted it to me... But how did these two know I'd be here...?_

A shadow moved and a figure stepped forward, a disruptor trained on her. She recognized him from the description she'd been given. Her contact. 'You set me up, you bastard!' she hissed.

He ignored her. The glinn and the cadet had seemed to recognize the other man also and were almost standing to attention. They kept her covered, she noticed. No chance of getting away and letting her superior know it had been a fiasco.

Her contact spoke to the two soldiers. 'You can put those weapons away. I have it all under control.'

They did as they were told.

'Do you have the data rod, Glinn Toran?' the man asked.

'Yes sir.'

'Then put it on the ground where I can see it.'

Toran did as instructed, putting it down about a yard away from the Order officer. 'Very good.' Then with one fluid movement, he trained his weapon on the two soldiers. 'Now drop your weapons.'

In stunned silence, the other three people in the room tried to take in their sudden change of fortunes. The cadet grasped it first and made a movement for his weapon. Garak's arm swung round to aim the disruptor directly at him. The two Cardassians stared at him in horrified silence.

'You're not going to kill one of your own people for a Bajoran woman, Garak,' Toran finally hissed.

Garak fired and the cadet fell to the ground dead. 'Does _that_ make you believe I'm serious, Toran?'

The glinn blanched then threw aside his own weapon. Garak aimed his disruptor back at him, kicking the data rod towards Marel. 'Take that, and get out of here,' he said to her, his eye firmly on Toran.

Marel stared at him in confusion then whispered, 'Thank you.'

He spared her a swift, contemptuous look. 'My dear, you overestimate your appeal. I didn't do this for you. I did it for Cardassia.'

She couldn't quite bring herself to go. 'What's going to happen to you?'

'Something very unpleasant, I should imagine, not that it's any of your concern.' He jerked his head towards the exit. 'Get out of here while you still have the chance.'

Marel didn't need telling twice. She grabbed the data rod and fled. Garak sighed and turned back to Toran. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep you here a while longer. That young lady needs some time to get back to her associates.' He waved his weapon at the ground. 'Why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable? We'll be here a while yet.'

Toran looked back at him in astonishment. 'Don't toy with me! You're going to kill me, and we both know it.'

Garak pursed his lips in frustration. 'The Cardassian military suffers from the twin handicaps of no imagination and gross stupidity. I'm amazed we ever took Bajor in the first place. The fact that we've lost it is no real surprise. No, Toran, I _won't_ kill you. I need you to inform your superiors of the breach in their security. Otherwise that young lady will cause the deaths of countless Cardassian soldiers and civilians.'

Toran looked back in confusion. 'Isn't that what you want?'

Garak's eyes blazed in genuine fury. 'What do you take me for - a _traitor_?'

'From where I'm standing, that's exactly what you are,' Toran shot back.

'Which just proves my point: the military never could understand anything more subtle than a weapon in the face. No, Toran: once I let you go, you'll be able to let Central Command know that their lunatic evacuation plans have been leaked to the Bajoran resistance. They'll have to devise an entirely new operation. I suspect they'll come up with one that's somewhat more directed and rather less bloody.'

'Who cares?' Toran snapped. 'They're _Bajorans_. Who cares if we wipe out the entire damn planet?'

Garak shot him a murderous look. '_I care,_' he hissed back. He frowned. 'Because it affects Cardassia,' he added. He waved the disruptor again. 'Now sit down and shut up.'

Toran did as he was told, sitting down warily as Garak positioned himself opposite, the disruptor trained on him. He tried not to move, conscious of Garak's basilisk stare keeping him pinned down. After two long hours, Garak seemed to come to a decision. He nodded, stood up, and gestured with his weapon. 'You're free to go, Toran.'

Toran stood up stiffly, freezing cold, and sore from both lack of movement and the damage done to his pride. The Bajoran girl would be miles away by now, he thought bitterly, not caring to think through the implications of this for the Cardassian army. He stared in revulsion at the traitor opposite him, whose face remained as composed as it had been for the last two hours.

'You'll never set foot on Cardassia again,' snarled Toran and, before his eyes, Garak seemed to become old.

'I know,' Garak murmured. 'I know.'



-------------------------------

Chapter III Look On My Works (Part 1)



Deep Space Nine; November 2372

Bashir stumbled into the ward room, yawning. The rest of the command level staff was already there. 'So sorry I'm late,' he said apologetically. 'I just couldn't get away from the Infirmary any sooner...'

'That's all right, doctor,' Sisko answered, watching with concern as the young man half-sat, half-collapsed into a seat and reached out desperately for some coffee.

'Christ, Julian, you look done in,' O'Brien exclaimed, saying what they had all been thinking.

'I haven't been able to get off duty since yesterday morning,' Bashir mumbled through a mouthful of something caffeinated.

'Perhaps you'd better think about getting some sleep,' suggested Dax.

Bashir looked at her in exasperation. 'Well, strange as it may seem, I'd _like_ to get some sleep, but it's not really an option at the moment,' he retorted, then sighed. 'I'm sorry, Jadzia. It's just chaos down there, not even remotely under control. The state of some of the new arrivals...' His voice trailed off. 'Terrible, just terrible.'

Dax looked with distress at Sisko. 'Benjamin, this is indefensible. When is Starfleet going to do something about this?'

He looked at her and shook his head. 'There's nothing we can do, old man. Chancellor Gowron has refused all offers of assistance in removing refugees, insisting that they are involved in no more than 'temporary setbacks'. And the combined fleet is the most powerful the quadrant has ever seen - do we really want to get involved in a war with them?'

'So we just sit back and watch while the Cardassians and the Romulans carve up Klingon space, leaving millions of people homeless?' Dax said bitterly.

'Some of us don't have the luxury of watching,' Bashir pointed out very quietly.

Into the awkward silence, O'Brien cleared his throat. 'Strikes me we're making a mistake. After the Cardies have taken Qo'Nos, who're they going to turn on next? Us. Seems we should have been doing something about that months ago.'

Sisko shook his head. 'The Federation is in no position to take on the combined fleet...'

And so the debate went on. _The Federation_, thought Kira, wisely keeping her contempt to herself. _In the name of the Prophets, they really do make lousy allies._

***

'Commander, I have to speak to you privately.'

Bashir's voice was quiet but urgent; his face, when Sisko looked up, was tired and a little sad. Sisko watched the rest of the command staff leave, and then turned to his CMO.

'What is it, Doctor?'

'I'm resigning my commission,' Bashir replied without preamble. 'I'm leaving Starfleet.' He offered a padd which Sisko took slowly and read the resignation, simple and final.

He gestured to Bashir to sit down and eventually was able to answer. 'Doctor, you've left me speechless. I imagine this decision has not been taken lightly, but - _why_?'

Bashir looked down. 'You're right; it's not been an easy decision.' He sighed. 'Over the past few months, you know that most of my time has been spent working with refugees.'

'You've done an remarkable job,' Sisko said urgently. 'You've been faced with an extraordinary challenge and you've met it courageously.'

Bashir shook his head. 'I've done a _limited_ job. And I've been constrained in what I can do because of Starfleet regulations. Each refugee we receive carries with him or her an enormous burden of paperwork - alien resettlement forms, permission to treat forms, you name it. If we could reduce that just a small amount, we could help more than double the number of people we're doing now.'

'Julian, you know that we're in an awkward position. We have to respect the wishes of the Klingon government. But if you want, I'll find ways that we can work round that bureaucracy. If it will keep you here on DS9, in Starfleet, I'll cut every piece of red tape between here and Earth.'

'It's more than that, I'm afraid.' He looked Sisko directly in the eye. ' I just don't _believe_ any more.'

'I don't think I understand you, Julian.'

'What we're looking at is the worst crisis the quadrant has ever faced. And Starfleet is failing to rise to the challenge. We should be out there, Commander, protecting these people - fighting to help them, if necessary. Instead we make sympathetic noises and use the excuse of not wanting to offend Klingon honour to avoid committing troops.' He shook his head. 'I didn't join Starfleet to hide behind regulations. I joined so that I could practice medicine where it was needed.'

Sisko didn't answer. If the truth be told, he agreed. 'Have you talked to Dax about this?'

'She's been rather sympathetic,' Bashir said quietly.

'I bet she has.' There was a pause. Sisko looked at the tired but determined face of the younger man and knew that he would not be able to persuade Bashir to stay since it was unlikely he could summon up sufficient conviction on his own part. 'Well, then, what are your plans?'

'I've approached a charity that puts medical personnel into crisis areas. They're anxious to have my services. I want to be out in the field by the end of the month.'

Sisko sighed deeply. 'We worked so hard to keep you here, Julian. After all you went through - all your parents have gone through - I can't believe you can give up your commission so easily.'

Bashir flushed. 'I've been given unique gifts, Commander. And this is a unique time. I'd be failing myself if I didn't put them to their best use. And Starfleet isn't the place to do that any more.'

There was no more to say. Sisko rose and offered his hand. Bashir stood up and took it.

'Good luck, Julian.'



Victory Square; Qo'Nos; January 2373

Today he had stepped out irrevocably from the shadows. He had walked out behind Tain into the full glare of publicity. For years, he had kept his identity as secret as he could; after today the whole of the Cardassian Union would know his name and his face. This speech was going into every home in the Union, because this was no ordinary day, and this was no ordinary speech. They stood looking down on the main square of the capital, on Qo'Nos. The Klingon Empire was no more. This was now Cardassian territory.

It was a good speech, Garak thought with satisfaction. Rich in historical allusion, well-phrased - and Tain delivered it with his usual brilliant showmanship. He and Brun had worked on it for the best part of a fortnight. It was one of their finest.

He frowned slightly, suddenly puzzled. Tain had wandered off topic.

_'A new dawn has arisen for our people...'_

He groaned to himself. What were these _dreadful_ platitudes? Tain, he thought, there is a very good reason why Brun and I do this for you. From the corner of his eye, to his left, he saw Brun sigh very slightly. Garak knew what he was thinking. _The old man's off again._

'_I see a new age for Cardassian society..._'

Absolutely abysmal. He stopped listening, knowing from years of listening to debates from the Council Chamber that he would pick up again when Tain got back on message. He looked out across the Square, at the ranks upon ranks of Cardassian and Jem'Hadar squads, the smaller number of civilians brought in for the occasion. Then, perfectly attuned to his old friend, he noticed that Brun had stiffened almost imperceptibly. He began listening again.

'_... a new project for our people, with the family at its heart..._'

This was nothing new. What was Erak fretting about?

'_... with no place for deviancy, for the type of moral decay which has left our society so fatally weakened in the past..._'

Again, platitudes. Politicians had been spouting this sort of cant on Cardassia for time immemorial. It was true that Tain had more of an obsession about the Cardassian family than most, but -

'_... a concerted effort to eradicate these elements from our society. Illegitimates, sexual deviants, those whose actions strike at the very fabric of our society - we have tolerated their presence among us for too long; we have allowed them to grow like a tumour at the hub of our nation..._'

This was most certainly not in the script, and not just because of the mixed metaphors.

'_... today I swear to the people of Cardassia that we shall stand for it no longer. We shall remove these abominations; Cardassia will be pure again..._'

Et cetera, et cetera. And then rapturous applause. The speech was over, the ovation interminable. Eventually, Tain retreated inside, his court clamouring at him what a success it had been, what a _truly_ marvellous speech, how he had _absolutely_ captured the mood of the nation...

Brun and Garak drew to one side, shared a sideways glance. 'So,' said Garak eventually, his face a complete blank. 'I think that went well.'

Brun gave him a look that might have been concerned. 'It could have been worse...'

They stopped talking as they realized Tain was approaching them, the flock of sycophants still trotting and bleating behind him. Tain was bright-eyed, flushed with success. 'Where are my two lieutenants?' he roared above the mêlée. Brun raised an eye ridge; Garak gave a tight smile.

'Not talking to me, gentlemen?' Tain said in mock annoyance. 'And I only changed a _few_ words of your splendid speech...' He grabbed each one by an arm. 'Come and have a drink with me, my friends. Today is the day we've worked towards all our lives.'

***

Garak refused a glass of kanar from the offered tray and continued watching the people in the room, twisting the fingers of one hand round and round as he studied the party. Across from him he could see his wife talking happily to Tain, who laughed as she spoke. He became aware that someone had come to stand next to him and turned to see Brun. 'Since when did you give up drinking?' Brun said, swigging from his own glass.

'Headache,' he muttered curtly.

Brun cleared his throat, lowered his voice. 'Well, the old man did go on a bit.'

Garak didn't answer. Across the room, Tain nodded at something Lyssa said and glanced over at his two deputies.

'Surprised to see you here with Lyssa,' Brun murmured.

'We've had a reconciliation,' Garak replied dryly, looking sideways at his old friend.

Brun nodded his understanding. 'I imagine Tain's pleased. Bit conspicuous his chief lieutenant was sorely lacking a wife, I suppose.'

'I suppose so,' Garak said noncommittally, knowing that Brun would read between the lines. It had, indeed, been Tain's idea that he and Lyssa get back together.

Brun didn't comment. His mind seemed to be somewhere else. Garak glanced back across the room and realized what the distraction was. Memad had joined Tain and Lyssa in their conversation, his striking face a picture of attentiveness towards Garak's wife; suddenly it creased in laughter at something she said.

'You think very highly of him, don't you?' Garak said, nodding towards their new colleague in Command.

Brun smiled into his glass. 'I most certainly do. I think his... intelligence is a great asset to the Order.' He laughed, but Garak didn't join in. He looked at their new associate through half-closed eyes. Suddenly Memad turned to look towards him and Brun. He smiled, raised his glass, and jerked his head at Brun, clearly suggesting that he join them.

As they made to go across, Garak touched his arm. 'Just... be careful, Erak,' he whispered, his voice laced with concern. 'Be discreet.'

Brun smiled his large, handsome smile. 'Always have been, always will be. No need to worry about me.'

'Times have changed.'

'So I'll change with them. Done it before, I'll do it again.' He smiled. 'Relax, Elim! You worry too much!'

'Somebody has to,' Garak muttered as they went across the room; and even when he placed a distant kiss on Lyssa's offered cheek, he watched anxiously as Brun approached Memad, all under Tain's attentive eye.



Ministry of Information; Cardassia City; Cardassia Prime; June 2373

It was a bitterly cold evening, when the wind from the plains cut through the Keteral Pass and sliced through the city like a knife. Garak wrapped his coat more tightly around him, shivering slightly, only partly from the cold. They stood - he, Tain, Memad, and about ten members of the upper echelons of the Obsidian Order - in a grey yard. The Ministry building stood behind - offices where power was wielded at the top, interrogation rooms where lives were broken in the basements. They had just watched the execution of a young man of twenty-three, a junior Order agent.

Two soldiers, followed by an official, now pulled out another, older man, who could barely walk. Garak could see that the man's once handsome face was ravaged. As they drew near, the prisoner looked up directly at him, his expression one of agony and betrayal.

'_Garak...'_ he whispered desperately. One of the guards promptly hit him across the face and his mouth started bleeding. _'Fucking faggot,'_ the guard said, and he landed a blow to Brun's stomach.

Garak felt Tain stir slightly at his side, and he fixed his gaze on a small point on the wall opposite, away from Brun's desperate face. After a few moments, his nerve returned and he watched as Brun was dragged across the yard and tied to a chair, his arms pulled behind him. His eyes didn't leave Garak's face. Garak looked back at him unflinchingly.

'Erak Brun,' the official said, 'You have been found guilty of deviancy, gross personal misconduct, repeated corruption of other citizens, and attempting to undermine the Cardassian state. You have been sentenced to death.'

There was no more ceremony. One of the soldiers stepped back and, with a single disruptor blast, took out most of Brun's chest. Garak remained motionless. Tain gave a murmur of satisfaction. Memad smiled. Behind them, the sun set, bleeding crimson across a burnt sky.

They turned to go back into the building, Memad leading the way. Tain waited to walk with Garak and started talking. The sound seemed to be muffled, Garak noticed faintly, and then realized that he was trembling, and that his chest had constricted. The building ahead of him seemed to loom menacingly, the red rays of the sun fading behind it as his vision blurred. _Oh no - not here, not _now_..._

'Dreadful business, wouldn't you agree, Elim?' Tain said.

'Indeed,' he managed.

'And at such a level in the Order. It just goes to show one can never be sure. Wouldn't you say?'

Garak was conscious that Tain was observing him closely. 'Oh, absolutely,' he murmured, feeling sweat on his brow. _I think I'm either going to faint or be sick. I wonder which is more likely to get me shot?_

'Are you all right, Elim?' Tain asked, touching his arm. Memad had turned back to wait for them and looked keenly at Garak, the faint smile still flickering across his mouth.

Normally Garak would stop and take deep breaths until he had controlled himself. This wasn't an option. There were far too many people watching to show even a flicker of vulnerability - particularly not here and now. _Legate Garak collapses after watching the execution of his lifelong friend and convicted homosexual Erak Brun. Precisely how long do you think you could survive that, Garak?_

It was a supreme effort of will and perhaps the greatest performance he ever delivered. Within a split second, Garak turned to face Tain, all smiles, a model of self-possession. 'I'm absolutely fine, Enabran,' he replied, his voice completely even. He glanced at his other colleague. _If I went for your throat now, would I have managed to throttle you before someone shot me? I'll kill you for this, Memad - I won't rest until I've seen you _screaming_ for mercy..._ All he said was, 'You're shivering, Memad. Shall we go inside? It _is_ a little cold out here.'

***

Sleep was an impossibility. Brun's tortured, begging face haunted him; it was constantly in front of his eyes, whether open or closed. Worse, old memories came back but tarnished now with a sickly patina from the events of the day.

I was nineteen, he was twenty. We lay on our backs on the bed in my loft; the heat of a summer night drenching us with sweat, his hand playing through my hair, mine stroking his chest. We were both still tingling from the delicious knowledge that we were now lost, beyond the pale, more outcast than we had ever been... exhilarated by the frightening but wonderful fact that we were now inextricably bound up together...

'Well,' he said eventually, breathing out contentedly. '_We're_ fucked.'

I snorted, and then we were both in fits of laughter. It was five minutes before either of us could hope to speak. Then I turned to face him.

'How did you end up here, Brun?'

He smirked at me, tugged my hair. 'I threw myself at you, and you just couldn't resist my charm.'

I shook my head, suddenly serious. 'That's not what I meant. In the Order - how did you end up in the Order?'

'Time for confidences, is it, Garak? And what makes you think I'd tell you anything?'

'Because you want to,' I said urgently. 'Because despite everything, you actually trust me.'

He sighed, stroked my face. 'Yes, I'm afraid I do,' he said. His face was more transparent than I had ever seen before. 'Usual story, I suppose. No father. Mother threw me out when I was seven. Got caught pickpocketing on the streets when I was twelve. Morning after I was picked up, two men from the Order arrived, gave me a bunch of tests... Next thing I knew I was packed off to a boarding school.' He laughed shortly. 'They certainly know how to make you loyal. Well, the Order's family, isn't it?' he said dryly, looking at me sideways.

'Some of us more than others,' I whispered to myself.

He hadn't heard. His voice had gone very quiet. 'That night in custody, the two officers on duty fucked me - twice each. I was terrified. When those men from the Order arrived, I'd have done anything for them. Which is what they want, isn't it?' He gulped for air. 'I've never told anyone that, you know.' He drew my face round to look at him, a smile playing on his lips. 'You've had _my_ secrets, Elim. How about you tell me _yours_?'

I dropped my gaze. What he had told me _was_ a great secret, something that could ruin him in years to come. We don't have victims of rape on Cardassia, just accessories. I swallowed, and my mouth opened slightly. Then I couldn't bring myself to say it and tried to move my head away from his clasp.

He spoke again, quietly but passionately. 'We're both alone, Elim, and that's the way it's always going to be. This life we lead - that we're going to lead for the next thirty, forty years - we can either face it by ourselves or with allies. I know I'll be able to count on you when it matters, Elim. And I'm telling you now - you can count on me.'

Against my better judgement it came out, almost a sigh. 'Tain's my father,' I whispered and looked deep into his eyes. It was the first time I had ever said it out loud.

He blinked, couldn't answer me straightaway. 'Well,' he said eventually. 'Now that's _really_ screwed up.'

We were both idiots, of course; inexperienced children who thought they were worldly-wise, but who didn't yet have the sense not to tell the truth to lovers; who could each have ruined the other as a result of that night - but who somehow got away with it. We chose the right person to trust, and it was as Brun said: that trust gave us the edge over all our enemies - as we knifed our way up to the top of the Order, we both always knew there was someone who, when it mattered most, would help us. But, in truth, it was the hollow alliance of two essentially disconnected people. We may have loved each other, but it was a reduced love - not shallow, but damaged. We gave each other all that we were able, but it wasn't complete. Neither of us was capable of that. Later that night we shared a final confidence.

'I'll never be faithful,' he said, looking up at the ceiling.

I nodded. I'd already guessed that. 'And I'll always pick Tain over you.'

He looked at me a little sadly. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I'd worked that one out.'

Garak gave up on sleep. _At least I told you the truth, Brun,_ he thought as he sat on the side of the bed with his head in his hands. _Not many people got that from me. But I doubt it's much of a consolation._

He got dressed and went across the city to see Odo.

The shapeshifter sat in his usual seat, reading, and looked up in surprise through the force field when Garak came in. 'What brings _you_ here so late?' he said warily.

'An old friend died today,' he said, looking at the wall behind Odo's ear.

The shapeshifter didn't answer immediately, then said quietly, 'Was it your fault?'

'No!' he said - too quickly - but his face betrayed a massive internal struggle. '_Yes_... No... Oh, I don't know any more,' he finally admitted, shaking his head.

Odo got up and came closer to the force field. 'Why are you telling me this, Garak?'

He shrugged. 'Because there's no-one else to tell.'

Odo nodded. 'I see.' They looked directly at each other, face to face, the force field between them. 'It's not proven to be a happy homecoming after all, has it, Garak?' he said softly.

Garak breathed in very sharply.

'How long before you're asked to murder another of your friends? How much guilt can you _really_ bear?'

'I didn't come here for guidance, Odo. Nor for absolution,' Garak said heatedly.

'And I am neither your counsellor nor your nestor. I am your prisoner, you may recall.' Odo said, equally angry, hitting his hand against the force field to reinforce his point, and Garak flinched as if the blow had actually touched him. 'Why _did_ you come here?'

Garak turned from him, walked a few steps away. 'I wanted to let you know that I'll be spending some time away from Prime,' he replied eventually. 'Inspecting our newest colonies. Security on many of them has been problematic.'

'Given how defeated peoples tend to feel towards their conquerors, I'm not entirely surprised. Have you learnt nothing from the occupation of Bajor?'

'If you have nothing to offer but blame, I had better leave.'

'You have given me no chance to offer you anything else. I rather think it's what you came for.'

They stared again at each other through the force field, each man struck at the absurdity of the conversation, that Garak could speak reproachfully, that Odo could speak generously.

Garak dropped his eyes first. 'I should be back in about three months. I'll come to see you on my return.' He turned to go.

'Garak,' Odo said, and the man looked back at him. 'Unless you have something to say to me - don't come back.'

Garak nodded slowly and left. Odo watched him leave and sank into his chair in despair. _I don't believe this will ever end...



-------------------------------

Chapter III Look On My Works (Part 2)

Cardassia City; Cardassia Prime; June 2373

From below the bridge, Garak watched the lights along the embankment thread down the curve of the river towards the distant glow of Parnassa on the coast. The river sweated oil and tar; it was the strong brown god at the heart of the city. He watched its sinewed course silently, patiently. The old clock above the Council building rang the hour, a dead sound on the final stroke. A water vole caught his eye; it blinked at him, then slid into the river with a quiet splash. Garak stayed motionless, listening to the sounds of the night, watching as the reflection of the moon's light flickered and broke on the ripples of the river.

After ten minutes, he was content and moved out of the shelter of the bridge. The second he had stepped outside of the Ministry building, he had been aware that Memad was having him followed. He had shaken off three footpads between the Tozhat Memorial and the Veterans' Bridge; a fourth had proven more competent, forcing him to weave through the little alleys crowding around this part of the river. In the end, Garak's instinct for the city and its shadows had given him the edge he needed.

He climbed the steps up the bridge two at a time. She was already there, as still as one of the statues that lined the bridge. They stood straight, proud of their achievements and sacrifices. She leaned on the railings, shoulders down. It was a good meeting place, one he had used on many occasions; just outside of the city centre, deserted. The barges crept along the other bank, close to the main landing points. Over here on the south bank, the docks were mostly derelict, the buildings of a long-gone way of life empty and crumbling.

'Miss Rekelen,' he said, his voice low, but carrying.

She turned with a gasp, and pointed a disruptor at him. He raised an eye ridge.

'I do hope you're not planning to use that,' he said. 'It would be a distressingly messy end to a beautiful friendship.'

'_I know who you are!'_ she hissed.

'That's not information I'm going to find useful.'

'_I saw you on the broadcast from Qo'Nos! You were standing right next to that monster!'_

He raised his hands to placate her, to show that he was unarmed. Her face contorted with anger, her hand holding the disruptor at him unwaveringly. 'That would be because I'm his right-hand man.'

'You betrayed us. All that time, we thought you were on our side!'

'I _am_ on your side. I want what's best for Cardassia.'

'Don't try that one! Is that why you work for that butcher? For the good of Cardassia? Do you know how many civilians he's put in front of firing squads, how many of my friends?'

'Miss Rekelen,' he cut through, impatience creeping into his voice, 'We have been aware of your activities and your organization at the highest level of the Order for _years_. Have you not stopped to consider why you have never been arrested? Why your little group has never been simply wiped out? We could do it like _this,_' and he snapped his fingers to emphasize the point. 'Only last month, the Order removed eighteen members of staff from the University on charges of treason. Your friend Hogue is still there. Does this not suggest to you that someone, at a very high level, has been shielding you?' He let the implication hang in the still night air. She was sharp enough to work out what he meant.

After a pause, she said rather uncertainly, 'Are you saying that you have been _protecting_ us?'

He nodded.

'_Why_?'

'Because if you want to destroy something, you first have to control it from within. That's all I've been doing.' He put his hand to the side of the disruptor. 'I wonder if you could put that down. It _is_ making me uncomfortable.'

Her hand wavered and then the weapon dropped. She was on the brink now. He spoke very softly. 'I have risked a lot to come here and see you, Miss Rekelen. Every time we make contact, I put my life on the line, and in your hands. Have you ever suffered from my association with you? Has it ever brought you anything but safety? Surely you can trust me?'

She nodded very slowly. 'All right,' she said.

He kept watching her face closely. 'Shall we get down to business, then? What do you have to tell me?'

She hesitated, conscious that this information was now going straight back to the heart of the Order. He breathed out in annoyance. 'Let me say it again, Miss Rekelen - I am risking a lot more being here than you are. Whatever the Order interrogators might find to do to you, can you imagine how much worse it would be for one of their own that they found out was a traitor?'

She licked her lips. When she did speak, she would not look from him, but gazed out east to the lights of the port at Parnassa. 'I've made contact with a man who was a glinn in the old military. His name is Damar. He and some former colleagues have formed a resistance outfit. They're short on people and on weapons, but they're very angry and very committed. They're looking to regroup and regain at least some of the military's former power. They hate the Order, and they want you all dead.'

Garak's mind was already working on overdrive. 'Damar... I remember him... He was an associate of Dukat's.' _Another swaggering thug. Just the sort of mindless brute I wanted_ out_ of power... Now what am I going to do about this...?_'Thank you, Tela,' he said a little absently, staring down at the ripples on the water, lost in thought.

'What are you going to do with this information?' she asked wretchedly.

He pulled his gaze away from the river and smiled at her warmly. 'For the moment, absolutely nothing.'

'Nothing?' She was puzzled.

'That's right.' He roused himself. 'I'm going away, Miss Rekelen, so I'm afraid our little meetings will have to cease for a while. But a colleague of mine is going to make contact,' he threw her the little data file containing Memad's details. 'You can trust him - work with him as you've worked with me.'

She nodded.

'But don't discuss this Damar with him. That's serious, and it's my responsibility. If Damar feels so confident, it's likely he has allies on the inside of the Order. I'll want to make contact with these people myself. It's too dangerous for anyone else in the Order. Do you understand?'

Again, she nodded her agreement.

'Then goodbye, Miss Rekelen. No doubt we'll be in touch on my return.' He slid off into the night, turning back to look at her briefly before climbing down from the bridge. She had her head in her hands. _I have corrupted her, and she knows it. Poor Tela; cursed with sufficient intelligence to see that she is now on the side of her enemies. It comes to us all, in time_, he thought.

He walked softly along the river's edge, reaching the next bridge down. He crossed the river here, to head to the north side, towards home. As he cut along through the city centre, he spied Memad's more capable footpad blundering along the old plains road and let him pick up his trail again. He took a malicious pleasure in leading the man through some of the more colourful parts of the north side, before turning west and heading home, walking up the foothills rather than taking the transporter, savouring his city and its warm, still night.



Ministry of Information; Cardassia City; Cardassia Prime; June 2373

They sat facing each other, each lizard gaze matching the other, blink for blink. Suddenly Garak smiled and relaxed back into his chair. 'Thank you for coming to see me, Memad.'

'You _are_ my superior officer, Legate.' He smiled back. 'So I turn up when you request it.'

'I'm glad to see you're so concerned with maintaining the chain of command. Such _humility_ becomes you.'

'Naturally I respect those of my superiors who deserve it, Legate.'

'Then I shall sleep easy in my bed.' They glared at each other across the desk in loathing. Garak pulled himself up and reached out for a file. 'No doubt your sources have already told you of my imminent trip to the new colonies,' he continued.

'I had imagined you would be going.' Memad responded calmly. 'You always had an affinity with the races we conquered. I can think of no-one else better suited to deal with the losing side.'

Garak held out the file just a small amount, forcing Memad to lean forward. 'Whilst I am away, I want someone to continue monitoring the civilian dissident movement here on Prime. Needing someone both duplicitous and savage, my thoughts naturally turned to you.'

'You flatter me, Legate.'

'I'm aware of that, Memad,' Garak said softly.

The younger man resisted the urge to swallow. 'What do you want me to do?'

'Nothing.'

Memad looked up sharply. 'I'm sorry?'

'Leave them alone. They come in very useful. Just keep on watching them.'

Memad frowned. 'Legate Garak, am I to understand that you are the architect of the civilian dissident movement on Prime?'

'Well done!.' Garak gazed at him, recognizing the younger man's obvious good looks, but inwardly recoiling from them. _You are rotten to the core, and Brun should have caught your stench before you came within miles of him..._ 'You look concerned,' was all he said. 'Surely I don't have to explain to you the benefits of such an arrangement?'

'I don't understand why the Order is propping up an organization which spreads anti-Order and un-Cardassian lies.'

'As I said, they're very useful.'

Memad didn't answer immediately; then: 'May I speak freely?'

'I hope that you will always feel you have that luxury with me.'

'Your association with this organization is very... courageous. Your, er, somewhat _atypical_ track record would make it very easy for someone to blacken your name with the material contained in this.' He waved the file at Garak.

Garak leaned in across the desk. 'Are you threatening me?' he asked, sounding fascinated at such a notion.

'Of course I'm not.'

'Of course you're not.'

They stared at each other across the desk again, separated by rank, fifteen years - and the death of Erak Brun.

'Was there anything else you wanted?'

'No. You may go.' Garak watched the man stand before adding, 'Don't get any clever ideas while I'm away.'

Memad's lip curled in contempt as he left the office. _Yes, it's unimaginable that anyone in the Order should prove himself cleverer than you, Garak. But it's going to be easy, nonetheless.



Resettlement Camp 962; Cardassian New Territories; September 2373

Across sector after sector of space he wandered, in the limbo of a self-inflicted exile, removed again from his home, this time by choice. Each night he would speak to Peyta, and sometimes Carissa, and promise he would be back quickly, but he was not sure how soon he could stand again on Cardassia Prime without feeling sick from sorrow, without thinking of nothing but Brun.

Instead, he watched from the bridges of ships as the combined fleet wiped out the last, sorry remnants of the once proud Klingon fleet. He signed orders authorizing the execution of all able-bodied Klingon adults; other orders enabling the removal of the remaining population from their homeworlds into resettlement camps, overseen by the Jem'Hadar. He visited some of these camps: sad collections of children, old men and women, the crippled and the infirm. He remembered that Klingons deprived of all hope of entering Stov'okor could become dangerously desperate; he noted this in one of his reports to Tain as worth consideration. He himself would recall mainly the sad, subjugated faces, the sickly smell of defeat.

Turning away in disgust, he visited instead new settlements of Cardassian civilians; robust, healthy people in little townships, some even veterans of the Bajoran settlement; farmers and herders. He met them in tiny town halls, beneath the portrait of Tain, styled as the Father of the Nation, that was displayed, by law, in every public space in Cardassian territory. He joined in as they recited the _Precepts of Our United Society_, as they were required to, by law, before every public meeting, even (especially) here on the edge of the Empire. He listened to their concerns about raids from the displaced but not yet captured former residents, authorized the placement of Jem'Hadar troops to protect the fragile little communities and round up the resistors. Three months away from Cardassia Prime, he still dreamt of Brun and woke sweating and shaking as his ship touched down at his latest destination. It was in this unsteady frame of mind that Garak at last made the final journey from limbo straight into hell.

He had been asked by Tain to report on new security arrangements at a resettlement camp which had been implemented since his first visit there at the start of his odyssey. He recalled the camp only vaguely from the dozens he had seen but was struck as he arrived by the difference. The air crackled with a strange anticipation; the place seemed energized. He commented on this to Deyos, the Vorta administrator of the camp.

'The new regulations have certainly made a great deal of difference,' the Vorta agreed.

'I would like to see them in action,' Garak replied, impressed once again at the administrative capabilities of the Vorta - even if unable to overcome his visceral dislike of these strange, antiseptic creatures. Deyos nodded and gestured Garak to follow him along a corridor.

They came out into a large hall, the centre of which was given over to what appeared to be some sort of arena. Gathered round, in a circle, were about twenty Jem'Hadar soldiers. Garak strained to see past them and Deyos gestured to two of them to get out of their way.

Inside the arena, an ancient Klingon wrestled pathetically with a Jem'Hadar who threw him away as if he were no more than a mild irritation. Within two minutes the old man had been flung against the wall. His back clearly broken, he gasped, spluttered, and died.

'Bring in the next challenger,' Deyos called out.

Very slowly, Garak turned to face him. 'Can you tell me what is happening here?' he murmured.

Deyos looked slightly surprised. 'Of course, Legate. We offer all prisoners the opportunity to be released, if they can win in combat against our best Jem'Hadar fighters.'

'And if someone wins?'

'Then we give them what they want - and release them to Stov'okor, of course,' Deyos answered.

'Of course.'

'Although with such sorry specimens as these, this rarely happens,' Deyos added.

'Indeed,' said Garak dryly, 'As I recall, we have executed most able-bodied Klingons of fighting age.'

They turned their attention back to the arena. A teenage boy with a bad limp hobbled in. They watched dispassionately as the Jem'Hadar took just under four minutes to kill him.

'You seem to have no shortage of willing victims,' Garak said quietly. 'Is no-one refused?'

Deyos shook his head. 'Of course not! These Klingons appear to consider it a matter of honour. For us to refuse a challenge would apparently be a great source of shame for the challenger.'

Garak watched as a little girl of about eight entered the arena. She shook like a leaf, but her face was set in determination. The Jem'Hadar soldier was at least twice her height.

'Dying with honour is of great importance to these people,' Deyos said. 'And the system has proven a great success from the point of view of our security. Since we have offered the prisoners the chance to fight and die honourably, we have had no escape attempts. The Klingons have devoted themselves entirely to fighting our soldiers. It's been a most successful distraction.'

The little girl was on the floor now. Garak turned his face away but still heard the crack of her skull as the Jem'Hadar soldier brought down his boot on her head. 'I think I've seen quite enough,' he said and started to leave the hall.

Deyos followed him,