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“I still fail to see why such a personal request was necessary Dejar. It would seem to be a routine matter for the Order to make a Tech 3 exemption request of the Science Ministry proper. If this is an essential matter to the State I would also add that you would be-” her tone is grudging, “-better served by an active member.” Gilora Rejal pauses in her adjustments of the device to take a sip of red leaf tea. There was a challenge in syncing the observation eye with the “monitor” being that the monitor in question is an old cathode ray tube display that’s horribly ancient by Cardassian standards. That’s not to say that she and her colleague Ulani Belor weren’t able to make it work. Of course they were! Even having moved on to other career paths, they maintain their skillset and knowledge with the most current technological breakthroughs out of the Science Ministry as a matter of pride. That still doesn’t explain why Nal Dejar had made such an unusual request of them out of the blue like this to come to North Jersey and assist her with a matter “essential to the continued security of the Cardassian State”.
“So you’re saying that your work will not perform up to standard?” Dejar digs at her. Gilora completes the final adjustment setting down the spanner.
“See for yourself, if you question my ability.” She steps aside as the yard displays with as much clarity as the glass screen will allow. She adjusts a few dials on the control module looking up curiously as Dejar frowns.
“Where’s the driveway? The driveway is the most important part! I need to be able to who’s coming and going.” Gilora gives her a look.
“You told me yourself that he only ever has his sponsorship cases, most of which have been completely unremarkable.”
“All but one,” Ulani pipes up from her seat on ugly floral sofa. She takes a long drink of tea. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Dejar makes a face, watching as Gilora makes a few more adjustments on the controls, the camera view shifting to the driveway where the Lincoln Mark V is parked.
“The assignment is Elim Garak but they felt that he was better handled by a more senior operative. They felt that the rest of us could “sharpen our fangs” on- There! That’s perfect!” Gilora nearly jumps, hissing in agitation.
“Perhaps they felt the assignment for the main target was better handled by someone more subtle,” Gilora snaps about to continue further when she notices that Dejar and Ulani both are staring intently at the screen. Curious, she pokes her head and nearly drops her tea when she sees what they’re looking at.
The residual target Corat Damar, current lead sponsor at the Foreign Relations Ministry, is washing his car. That in and of itself wouldn’t be terribly remarkable, she thinks. Personal vehicles and their maintenance have grown to be a custom Gilora has gotten used to while living on Earth. Living in New York City she hasn’t seen the need to own an automobile herself but out in the woods in a place like this it was a relief that Dejar picked them up both up from the train station as much as the cab wanted to charge. The State of this planet really ought to step in with regulating the out of control Ferengi prices! Cab prices though are the last thing on her mind as she joins in the staring with the other two.
“That man should come with a warning label,” Gilora hears Ulani say.
“Is this the real reason for the unauthorized tech 3 request?” She finds herself asking.
“Guls, how obscene…” Ulani breathes out.
“Absolutely not! And if you have a problem with the view then you’re free to leave,” Dejar replies heated.
“I wasn’t objecting,” Ulani replies primly, taking a long drink of tea. For her part Gilora almost misses her mouth entirely when she raises the cup and decides that it would be better to set the tea down on the side table before it spills. She sits down hard, half shoving Dejar over, Ulani moving over enough for her to squeeze between them both. “Zoom it in,” she hears Ulani say and she rather impressively navigates the control by feel, cutting the rest of the house and front yard out, focused on just that man and that car.
She doesn’t have the extensive dossier on Damar that Dejar –being the operative monitoring her neighbor the next sprawling property over - has but she knows all that she needs to. Like the fact that he’s wearing a pair of the tightest stonewashed jeans that she’s ever seen painted on a body in her life along with a white tank top. She hears Dejar supply helpfully that Damar was bound for a successful military career before his wife (ugh! Of course!) had persuaded him otherwise but Guls, he still has that military fit body!
“Have you been here long enough to hear the saying “you couldn’t bounce a quarter off it?”” She hears Ulani ask when he bends over, slowly, carefully sliding the sponge over the massive long hood of the black Lincoln.
“You certainly could,” Gilora agrees not waiting for Dejar to answer; she doesn’t care if the Order operative is familiar with Earth slang or not. “Can I get some fries with that shake shake-boobie?”
“If look could kill you would be an uzi,” Ulani finishes in a half awed whisper.
“He performs the standard military workout on the front lawn through the end of September,” Dejar offers instead of song lyrics and both Ulani and Gilora turn to look at her. They’d forgotten for a moment she was even there. “Observation is my main function here!” Dejar protests loudly.
“Defensive…” Ulani and Gilora murmur as they turn back to the screen watching the soaking wet Damar laving such careful attention to that glistening hood. The hood isn’t the only thing glistening. The water has sloshed everywhere and soaked through both the tank top and pants. The white fabric is sheer from that thorough soaking, clinging, displaying every pectoral ridge cleanly through. There’s a ripple of ridged back muscles as he moves back and forth, in circles, a slight clench of his ass lifting a leg up to reach, to stretch. Gilora distantly hears Dejar explaining in a dim stream of sound that they received intel that Damar’s wife has a cousin named Talkar Pren. She really doesn’t care about the wife’s cousin. She wants to know if that ass is as tight as it looks.
“Talkar had been converted by the insidious Dominion cult and had achieved the highest level of conversion becoming one of the “Founders” highest disciples known as “Vorta”” Dejar continues.
If they really want converts they should put him on the posters….
“Vorta,” Dejar explains “-are simple minded Cardassian citizens with easily subverted thoughts who have received extensive and invasive surgery to appear as some other sort of sexless creature for the purpose of serving the Founders.”
That sure doesn’t need surgery. Perhaps someone might call a doctor though because it feels warm in here. He has a wife? There couldn’t be a woman alive enough to satisfy that body.
“In the last decade the cult has ceased operations on Cardassia Prime and instead moved their followers to some barely habitable planet near a distant wormhole…”
Be silent, Dejar. Neither of us are in the order. Allow us to enjoy the fruits of our laor in peace.
“Talkar’s family paid quite a tidy sum to a rescue group to have him abducted and reprogrammed and Damar’s wife felt that Earth would be good and far from Dominion of Founder influence.”
Are you finished yet?
She’s not. Dejar goes on to say that Talkar - now going by “Weyoun 5” - is going to be staying with them so in addition to the connection to Elim Garak Damar is now being monitored by proxy because of his dubious family ties as well.
Great, now perhaps you can cease your meaningless chatter so I can start thinking how to improve the monitor quality. Dejar finishes by saying she isn’t privy to what information the Order might be looking for but it’s her duty to report any suspicious activity.
“I’d definitely report that as suspicious,” Ulani murmurs with another sip of tea, the three women leaning forward on the couch to get a closer look at the... incredible bulge in those tight jeans when Damar turns and takes a deep breath wringing the sponge out into the bucket. There’s a beautiful shot of his face that she closes in on as he breathes out hard, those lips so luscious and sinful that the thoughts shooting through her brain make her shift on the couch cushion. Guls, the things she bet that full mouth could do. She zooms back out when he turns, the monitor catching a… Oh… that cannot possibly be what she thinks it is easily silhouetted nearly eighteen centimeters down the leg of those jeans.
“Is that-”
“It’s a tube he uses for animal treats,” Dejar informs her as if sharing that same thought sounding almost disappointed. Gilora doesn’t blame her; not that it would be entirely savory for a man to be everted merely from the act of washing a car but who knew what strange thoughts filled the vapid heads of men? Still, she can’t help but look and imagine, seeing that long cylinder having shifted from its position. She’s sure that everted prUt must be a thing of wonder. Perhaps Dejar might see some necessity in going deeper… into surveillance, that is.
“He does have big feet,” Ulani comments in regards to the bare feet on the concrete of the driveway. “You know they have a saying on Earth about men with big feet.”
“They say the unassuming bud blooms twice,” Dejar counters with the familiar Kardasi saying. Gilora snorts.
“You know who says that, don’t you? Men with stamens instead of proper buds.” There are two nods of agreement as they continue watching him bending over, scrubbing at the chrome carefully.
“I don’t suppose-”
“Exclusive marriage,” Dejar interrupts Ulani with a disgusted expression. Gilora looks at her steadily. “It’s my job to research these things!” Dejar straightens up, all three heads tilting when Damar wipes his face off with his shirt showing more smooth scales. “You know his wife calls him “big daddy”?” she adds as another point of information. Well Gilora would too, truth be told.
“Is that going in the report?” Gilora asks slyly but just a touch breathless.
“These things are on a need to know basis and I... don’t see why any of this needs to be included. They felt that my skills were sufficient for the Tech 2 limitations on Earth. This is merely... supplemental. Do we understand each other, ladies?”
Gilora knows exactly what Dejar is asking and she turns back to the screen thoughtfully.
“You know we might need to see to the upkeep of the device. The Earth’s atmosphere has a lot more electronic interference and pollution which could affect our work...”
“Naturally your skills would be required for periodic maintenance,” Dejar agrees and there’s a collective sigh with another stretch over the hood of the car, muscles flexing, his hair clinging to neck ridges. Gilora wonders how exclusive “exclusive” is. Ah Guls, she sure wouldn’t let anyone else run their hands over that beautiful chiseled body if that was her husband.
“Does he... take a long time in washing his vehicle?” Ulani asks. They might need more tea. Gilora is rather thirsty all of a sudden.
“Wash, wax... and there are the wheels of course.”
“Of course,” Gilora says, trying to find her cup by feel. “I could see where an arrangement might be made. Perhaps in the morning when there’s the most activity for the receivers to process...”
“Mmm, through the end of September, I expect,” Ulani concurs.
Dejar clears her throat before agreeing to their terms.
“Then I can count on your discretion?”
“Absolutely-”
“Just one last question,” Ulani chimes in. “Exactly what does he wear when he’s performing his workouts?”
“Shorts,” Dejar says distantly. “…Nothing but shorts.”