Work Text:
Doctor Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer of Deep Space 9, was having a bad day. That was an unfortunate fact and an inescapable one, as his mind refused to let him move on. The morning had started in a very promising way too, with his optional cultural training for Federation-Bajoran Intercultural Understanding. He'd signed up with the best of intentions, convinced that it would help him finally win over his Bajoran staff and, dare he hope, even repair the damage made to the relationship with Major Kira on his very first day. Now, almost two years into his assignment, he could feel he'd made progress (she'd very nearly smiled at him a couple of times) and he was sure that, if he continued to try, they could reach an understanding.
He took plenty of notes during the first half of the class; it was the first time he received an extensive explanation of gesturality in the Bajoran culture and he felt his excitement increasing by the minute. He'd never noticed up until that moment just how prominent gestures were. How blind he'd been! Sure, they did not have as coded a system as the Cardassians, but it certainly played an important role. Everything went swimmingly until he saw a gesture he recognized – a hand pressed to the center of the chest – that, according to the Bajoran instructor, was meant to convey an apology. Before his brain could filter them out, words were already emerging from his mouth.
"Oh! The Cardassians have the very same gesture, with the very same meaning!", he chirped enthusiastically, jumping on his chair. The entire room froze and Julian with it, as his brain finally caught up with what he'd said. He wanted to disappear as the instructor, who had been utterly pleasant up until that moment, sent a cold smile in his direction and slowly enunciated: "Quite so, doctor Bashir, and well done for guessing the origin of this gesture. During the Occupation..."
He could no longer listen after that, as his brain was eating itself in remorse, while every fiber of his being wished he could get back in time and stop himself from opening his mouth. The problem was not even the comment itself; it was the ridiculous, senseless enthusiasm he'd displayed. He was just excited because of the circumstances, because he'd /known/... but if he'd just taken a moment to think! Or phrased the whole thing differently, maybe as a question. Yes, he could see it know, him raising his hand, catching the attention of the instructor... "Excuse me, Madam, but is the gesture used by the Cardassians as well? I think I recognize it." Yes, that was better, surely? Although, did he really have to mention the Cardassians? Did he have to say anything at all? Could he not just stay quiet and listen? He had a feeling that was exactly what the Major resented him for, even after all this time.
By the time he made it out of the classroom, he was feeling pretty dejected. He tried to go back to work, but on top of everything, he found himself facing the possibly only utterly quiet shift of his life. No patient showed up; the one physical of the afternoon called an hour ahead to reschedule; Nurse Jabara beat him to calling dibs on the archiving and all he was left with was trying to interest himself into catching up with medical research. After four hours of utter bad luck, where he proceeded to ruin 3 samples and break 2 beakers due to his brain still racing through the events of the morning (and kindly making them look worse every time it replayed them), he decided that the most logical thing to do at that point was throw in the towel and try to switch off his stupid mind in the only two ways he knew how to. Getting wasted did not look appetizing from where he stood now, partly because Miles O'Brien, his usual partner in crime for such endeavors, had finally talked himself into taking a week off to visit his family on Bajor, thus condemning Julian to the unpleasant prospect of drinking alone; partly because, if he had something on his mind, drinking usually made the doctor even more morose and focussed on the issue of the moment. The situation called for plan B. Doctor Bashir shouted a hurried goodbye to Nurse Jabara and started marching towards Quark's, trying to decide which holosuite program was more likely to relax him.
His fingers hovered on the control panel, resisting the urge to tighten into a punch and hit it. Ten minutes of his precious 2 hours of allocated holosuite use had already evaporated and he still could not decide which program he wanted to run. He knew all the levels of the Secret Agent one by heart and did not feel it could provide a good distraction. He fleetingly thought that he really should reach out to Felix and ask whether he would consider making a sequel, but quickly went back to concentrate on the problem at hand. Sports programs were no fun when playing against a computer; historical re-enactments were interesting only in a multi-player setting (dammit Miles) and the Enigma Tales were not even worth considering. His brain, the cursed machine, happily informed him that another 1 minute and 47 seconds had been wasted and he finally decided that this was time for desperate measures. The randomly allocated program was not a popular functionality of the holosuites, but Quark insisted that it had its aficionados (or, as Rom had put it in a moment of rare confidence, removing the option had proven more expensive and laborious than it was dealing with the occasional disgruntled customer who pressed the icon by mistake). With a sense of misplaced pride at possibly being the first creature to select the random allocation on purpose, Julian waited with bated breath as the program charged, reasoning that the day could not possibly get worse. However, as the air became sweltering hot, the setting sun hazily shone on the tall, sharp buildings of Kardasi'or and the solemn notes typical of Cardassian music reverberated all around him, he realized that it definitely could.
Garak was smiling affably at him. A fixed, sunny smile that was completely at odds with his unblinking stare. There was no point in trying to figure out what was going on in his head, Julian had realized after countless lunches spent studying every microexpression. The Cardassian tailor (spelled s-p-y) was invariably polite and genial and would be even when plotting murder. The silence stretched and enveloped them both, the buzz of the Promenade a faraway world lost beyond the closed doors of Garak's Clothier. The homonymous owner was still smiling at the increasingly uncomfortable doctor, but now his eyes were darting around, as if looking for something. Finally, the tailor chuckled in earnest.
"Very good, doctor, I will admit that for a handful of seconds you had me completely fooled!", he exclaimed, blue eyes shining with mirth but still running over every surface, nook, and cranny of the room. "Now, were you alone in this... prank, or did you have any co-conspirator? Maybe Commander Dax? Mmmh?"
Julian sighed and raised his hands, palm facing outward, trying to convey innocence. "I do not. And it is not a prank, it's a serious request. I know it's not exactly your standard commission-"
"That is putting it mildly, Doctor ", Garak interrupted him, still smiling and now discreetly peeking under the counter, presumably looking for hidden cameras. "Honestly, the idea is so bizarre, that I have to congratulate you on your originality. Are you sure Commander Dax is in no way involved? That does indeed sound like her particular streak of ingenuity. I would go so far as saying that-"
"Garak, please!"
The shouted plea caught the tailor's attention and brought blue eyes to meet golden ones. Julian wasted no time in grabbing Garak's wrist, trying to ground his suspicious mind to the problem at hand.
"I would /really/ like for you to make me a Cardassian 22nd century military uniform, for a Gil rank if possible. I have a few designs you can look at if you need them. Now, will you please give me a quote and an estimated delivery time?"
Garak studied him for a long time, his smile slowly sizzling and dying out like ambers. "You are serious", he finally announced in utter disbelief, and Julian resisted the urge to shake him.
"Yes, Garak, as I have been telling you for the last 10 minutes, I /do/ want that uniform! Now, quote and delivery time? Please?"
The Cardassian was now staring at him with an expression so calculating, that the doctor half-expected him to start screaming numbers any minute; the tailor, instead, simply redressed his face with the usual customer service smile, but with an extra glint in his eyes that looked downright disquieting.
"I do have reference material, thank you doctor, so I don't anticipate any issue in implementing the design. And", Garak leered at him, "I already have your measures. No, I do not foresee any difficulties in creating something for you. As for the rest... well, what level of accuracy were you looking for?"
Julian finally recognized the shrewd look he was being given as a relic of Garak's "gardening" days and quickly tried to disabuse him of any unsavory notion. "The usual", he said dismissively. "Good design, somewhat durable materials, but nothing too extravagant. There's no need for it."
"Oh?", the tailor murmured encouragingly, slightly leaning over the counter towards his captive audience. The doctor said nothing and found himself almost sniggering at Garak's arched eye ridge and impatient huff when the human failed to launch into an exposition.
"I could advise you better if I knew what it was for", the Cardassian sung enticingly, and Julian considered just how much he wanted to divulge. He sighed; if he said nothing, Garak would never stop pestering him for the answer and probably end up trying to hack into the security system to find out, ultimately getting in trouble with Odo and causing everyone a headache. Better to nip it in the bud.
"It is for a new Cardassian holosuite program I have started using. A game. You know I like to feel properly part of the story and, well, I need a 22nd century Gil uniform. Now, will you please do it?"
If he had hoped to dispel his friend's natural suspiciousness with that confession, it was quickly becoming clear that such hope would not be materializing any time soon. Far from being reassured by his confession, Garak seemed more alert and distrustful than ever.
"A Cardassian game?", the tailor said flatly. "You are playing an Enigma Tale? You?"
"What? No! No, it's most definitely not an Enigma Tale! It's more like... I don't know... an adventure game? Look, I found it by chance while using Quark's random allocation-"
"You used the random allocation functionality". Garak's tone was now spirit-leveled flat and the lack of a question mark at the end of his sentence convinced Julian he did not believe a word he was saying. Finally, the doctor had had enough.
"Fine! Don't believe me, see if I care! As for the uniform-"
The Cardassian waved a hand in a gesture Julian had come to associate with a polite request to speak (or a very rude interruption, depending on whom you asked), and the human grudgingly did the silent snap that constituted permission to go ahead.
"I'd be delighted to prepare a Gil uniform for you. Still, even using the most basic materials, it will not come cheap. Cardassian military uniforms, unlike their Starfleet counterparts, are veritable miracles of craftsmanship! However, I would be more than happy to waive that entirely if you were to divulge more details about your... game."
Garak gave him a winning smile, having made sure that the skeptical pause before the word "game" was properly registered. Julian felt a smirk stir his lips. Well, if that was how he wanted to play...
All good intentions having flown out of the airlock, he leaned towards the tailor and countered: "Tell you what, I will still pay for the costume but, if you manage to find out what... game I am playing, you win dinner."
Garak's smile became positively predatory.
"Deal."
Julian blinked, trying to accustom his eyes to the hazy light of the Cardassian capital to take in his surroundings. He was just outside an imponent building, with the characteristic elegant curves and sharp spikes that seemed to perfectly embody the Cardassian spirit. Just as he'd finished taking in the environment, a figure haloed in the reddish light of the setting sun approached him. As it came closer, Julian felt pretty confident in assuming that it was, in fact, a she. She was wearing the dark armor he had come to associate with the Cardassian military, albeit a very old-fashioned model, for what little he could tell; if he still remembered his insignias, she appeared to be a Legate. The officer came to a stop in front of him and offered the slight head-bow that constituted a greeting from an individual of a high status to someone lower-ranking, as Garak had been moved to explain to him following his confusion about why, in the latest Cardassian novel he was struggling with, what had looked like a simple "hello" caused a rift between families. Mindful of his self-appointed mentor's lessons, he responded with a more pronounced head-bow and respectfully averted his gaze. Wasting no time, the Legate went off into a long tirade and Julian, blinking furiously at the sudden assault of Cardassian language, had to hurriedly shout: "Computer, pause!"
The game must have started with the original linguistic settings (understandable, he chided himself, as he really could not see how anyone other than a Cardassian would play it), but even so, the internal translator should have kicked in... After 5 minutes spent helplessly fiddling with the controls and arguing back and forth with the computer, he finally concluded that the game must have been pretty old and did not support the translator function. Great. His day was getting better and better. He sighed and, still unwilling to abandon his already paid for session in the holosuite, decided to take the whole thing as language practice. He'd started studying Cardassian fairly early in his acquaintance with Garak, first in the hope of deciphering secret messages, if any, and later to try and catch his lunch companion in the lie when, every time a book was criticized, he went up in arms, arguing that the issue was with the translation. His reading skills had become quite advanced for that very reason and, thanks to holovideo adaptations that he managed to dig up, he could also follow a not particularly challenging conversation. His speaking skills, however...
Julian fiddled with the controls a bit more, trying to rewind the scene so that he could pick up what he missed of the character's speech in his surprise, but it seemed the game did not allow it; whether that was further indication of the game's advanced age or the apparent Cardassian fixation with only chances, it was anybody's guess. He sighed deeply and chanted to himself that it was a learning experience.
"Computer, resume program."
The Legate went back to throwing words at him, but this time the doctor was a little more prepared. Even with all his concentration, he only managed to get a general sense of what she was saying and he desperately hoped this was going to be enough. Her speech pattern was typical of a choice being offered. He had missed the first option, but the second one seemed to be a rescue mission. A Gul Nerell had crashed on one of Cardassia Prime's satellites for reasons unknown, after reporting that he had found... something. Julian was supposed to join a team commanded by Gul Teren to bring him home. The Legate fell silent and Julian realized with a startle that she was waiting for his decision. Completely unable to remember any single word he'd so painfully learned, he quickly signed a "2", hoping the computer would judge it enough of an answer. Legate Korina sniffed at his lack of good manners but nodded and pointed him in the direction of a domed building that looked like a hangar. Not knowing whether she would return within the game and not willing to risk losing points due to her disliking him, he put his best effort in performing a flawless bow of good-bye and run along to the tall building. Two guards observed him silently as he approached and, after having looked him up and down, opened the door for him.
As soon as Julian stepped in, his mouth dropped open in wonder for two reasons: the heat was less sweltering under the dome, allowing him to breathe a bit more easily; the frenzied activity of ships departing, arriving and being carted off to be repaired was performed with such flawless efficiency that it was not unlike watching clockwork. He stood observing the show for a while, trying to make sense of where to go, when another Cardassian officer entered his line of vision. Her uniform briefly shined as the dying rays hit the metal plaque while she greeted him with the same bow the Legate had used and, as Julian responded in kind, he realized that he was before a Glinn. The woman introduced herself as Glinn Caia, second in command to Gul Teren. As she showed him the way to their ship, she illustrated what they knew so far: Gul Nerell's latest transmission dated back to a couple of days prior, when he'd gone on a solo recon mission. It seemed his ship had been caught into some kind of space current and crashed against the surface of a satellite. The Gul managed to send a distress signal, did not seem to be too badly hurt, had some rations and was very excited about a discovery he'd just made. Legate Korina authorized the rescue mission, assigning Gil Myro (his character, as far as Julian could tell) to the team. Her words were intoned in a measured, confident way as she stepped self-assuredly through the controlled confusion; she reminded the doctor of Jadzia Dax and he found himself briefly wondering whether romance was a possibility in the game.
Finally, they reached a Nerok class scouter ship and Caia brought him to meet the rest of the crew: Medical Officer Tori greeted them warmly and, by the quality of the smile she gave Glinn Caia and the controlled enthusiasm demonstrated by the latter, Julian quietly decided that he could put any thoughts of romance to rest; Avis, a portly Cardassian with an air of authority that would not have looked out of place on Commander Sisko, introduced himself as the Chief Tactician and pilot; Corin, finally, appeared to be a 20 something going on 55 and, as soon as they'd exchanged a respectful bow, went back to checking the control panels. Something about him just screamed "engineer".
As the time of leaving approached, Gul Teren materialized on the deck and... he was not at all what Julian was expecting. He'd envisioned someone like Dukat and admittedly Teren did not come far from what seemed to be a typical Cardassian beauty standard. Dukat's air of smug superiority, however, seemed to have been traded for concerned eyes and quiet efficiency, which made the doctor feel slightly more at ease. Then, he noticed the red cape trailing behind him. Julian suddenly heard Garak's slightly chiding words in his mind: conformity was one of the pillars of Cardassian society and that was true for all classes. Those who were unable or unwilling to conform had to be punished. He suddenly had a very bad feeling about their trip.
Still, the Gul greeted them almost warmly before sitting in the command chair and giving orders to proceed with departure. Julian realized with a pang of anxiety that he was supposed to be in charge of weaponry and hurriedly tried to familiarise himself with the panel. The ship left the dock and departed from the planet without a hitch and soon they were within the sights of the satellite Gul Nerell had crashed upon. Just as Glinn Caia ordered Corin to try and establish contact with the Gul, sensors went crazy and alarms started blaring. The ship lurched forward, as if dragged by an invisible force, and they had to hold on to their seats for dear life not to tumble to the ground. Unable to make the vessel obey, they watched helplessly as the satellite grew smaller and smaller, their ship gaining speed.
After a few seconds of stupor, Gul Teren started barking orders and the deck exploded into a flurry of activity. Corin cursed at the panels, jabbing at buttons, while Caia and Avis struggled to maintain any kind of course. A sudden hit made the ship shake and Julian was almost thrown across the room. With adrenalin roaring in his veins, he realized they had been dragged into an asteroid field. The ship shook once more and Julian found himself hoping that Tori was doing alright in the infirmary. Obeying an ingrained habit, he looked up at the command chair; Gul Teren was studying the monitor, mapping their position with almost disquieting focus and statuesque intensity, seemingly barely breathing. Finally, he turned his head imperceptibly and met his gaze. The words were softly spoken, but for once Julian had no trouble understanding the order, his sharp mind completely dedicated to matching sounds with meaning.
"Whatever comes near us, you destroy"
Julian nodded and turned swiftly to the panel he was manning. It was not easy, the asteroids passed them by at ridiculous speed, moving randomly in the current they were trapped into and more than once he found himself taking advantage of his enhanced reflexes to blast detritus before it could collide with the ship. Most of the outside world was filtered out as he concentrated on the task at hand, but he was still vaguely aware of the going-ons in the deck. Corin seemed to have disappeared, probably trying to work some miracle on the engines to give the vessel a fighting chance, while Caia and Avis maneuvered it expertly, fingers dancing on the controls. Teren's eyes were fixed on the screen as he shouted orders and encouragements.
After what felt like hours, speed progressively decreased and they were finally able to pull free. Unfortunately, the tormented portion of space they suddenly found themselves into, was not a welcome sight. Visibility was low, flashes of light bounced around the atmosphere creating creepy shadows and the sensors were in utter disarray. Avis sighed and murmured a word that Julian had no trouble recognizing following the experience with the Maquis. He sighed as well. The Badlands stretched all around them.
Tori reached the bridge, breathless and with the medkit in hand, but fortunately, her services were not required; Corin appeared at her side a few seconds later and the whole crew fixed an expectant stare on Gul Teren. The officer stood up and seemed to collect his thoughts. A few seconds later, he congratulated them for their performance and then attacked the task at hand.
"I believe the best course of action..."
There was a strange descending note and then suddenly the whole ship and all its occupants barred one disappeared. Julian almost screamed in frustration. It was too soon! The door automatically swung open and, quite unwilling to get into an argument with Quark, the doctor slumped out. Still... indeed a learning experience. The burst of adrenalin had left him exhausted but with his mind wonderfully blank. So far, it had been his best experience with a Cardassian game. Surprised, he realized that he wanted to know how the story progressed. Would the crew make it back from the Badlands in time to save Gul Nerell? And what did he discover on the empty satellite?
He needed to continue playing, that much was clear. He threw a distracted look at his uniform and started walking towards Garak's Clothier, animated by new purpose.
"Doctor, I am simply appalled"
"... Garak?"
"I have spent days trying to determine what political ploy might require you to pretend to be a Cardassian Gil, but I was unable to find anything! Especially considering the frankly outdated style you requested. Are you quite sure you gave me the right designs?"
"Of course I did! Do you honestly think that if I was plotting to dress up as a Cardassian Gil for some nefarious political intrigue I would ask you to make me a uniform?"
"I assumed you were covertly requesting my assistance!"
"... I am sorry, Garak. I am really just playing a holosuite game."
"Yes, yes, I was unfortunately forced to reach the same conclusion. Which reminds me, your costume is ready."
"Fantastic! I'll accompany you back to your shop after lunch to grab it and pay the bill if that's alright with you."
"Capital. However... does that mean I have to actually start to give some thought to what game you are playing to cash in on the prize?"
"I am afraid so."
"Really, doctor, so inconsiderate!"
Feeling somewhat dashing in his brand new, though old-fashioned, Gil uniform, Julian listened attentively to Gul Teren rallying the troops. The current did not drag them far into the Badlands, but it would still take them at least a week at top speed to make it back to the Cardassian system. They had to hope that their rescue mission would not end up requiring rescue and that Gul Nerell could survive a little longer on his own. Teren looked somewhat concerned, but not excessively so; from what little Julian heard about Nerell, he sounded like a tough cookie. Their situation did not look particularly bad, considering Corin had managed to keep almost all systems running at peak condition and Tori had declared the crew safe and sound. Julian had admittedly studied all her medical instruments with a keen scientific eye and once again cursed his lack of speaking skills: he had so many questions.
They each regained their assigned places on the desk and for a while everything run smoothly. They were making good progress in spite of the low visibility and scrambled sensors and the mood was good; the human was treated to what he was sure were a few examples of Cardassian humor, judging from the laughter explosions from Caia and Avis and Teren's ironic smiles. Julian could not quite make out what was being said, but found himself smiling at the relaxed and easy atmosphere. Then they encountered the vessel. It looked abandoned, its course aimless; the sensors could not pick up any life signs and their hails received no response. They put it down as an abandoned ship and prepared to maneuver around it but, as soon as they got within fire distance, the vessel seemed to light up and sent a couple of photon torpedoes their way. Avis raised shields in the nick of time and the explosion rattled their ship. Teren gripped his chair.
"Now, that is interesting..."
The mysterious vessel was reading to fire again. The Gul caught Julian's eye and tilted his head. The doctor nodded. Recalling the sounds and stringing them together with some difficulty, he announced: "Whatever comes near us, I destroy."
Gul Teren offered him a tight smile. He turned to Caia and Avis and their fingers started to dance on the control panels.
"Ah, doctor! I am fairly sure I figured it out. There is a delightful old Cardassian novel, later turned into an educational game, with a Gil as the protagonist. It is a reflection on the role of the individual within the state and a cautionary tale against the danger of personal ambition. You see, the Gil's attempts to rise above his station-"
"It's not that one."
"How can you be so sure? I barely started explaining the plot!"
"Is there a ghost ship in it?"
"A what?!"
"Then it's not that one."
"My dear doctor, what kind of game are you playing?"
"... god, I hope she's alright!"
Getting rid of the ghost ship had proven to be way harder than expected. It followed them like a bad omen until they finally managed to shoot it down. However, the success was not without victims: a panel exploded and crashed into Glinn Caia. As Julian finally managed to land the finishing hit on the specter, Tori barged onto the deck, breathless and with eyes wild with worry. Julian had to actively resist the urge to accompany the two of them as they transported to the infirmary. The rest of the crew looked equally worried but the most important thing was to ensure their continued survival.
Corin went to work and managed to patch up the most essential systems, promising to fix the rest on the run. Avis and Julian helped running diagnostics, while Teren checked the status reports and plotted their next course of action. As the situation normalized, the Gul ordered them to each take a brief pause. As soon as Avis came back, Julian saluted gratefully and dashed to the infirmary. Tori smiled at him and, in a practiced way that told Julian he was not the first visitor, informed him that Caia's conditions were stable and she would hopefully awake by the end of the day. The doctor nodded, relieved, but then noticed a certain shift in the Medical Officer's eyes.
A sentence he'd practiced several times following the fiasco with Garak's wire materialized in his mind and he resolved to ask: "How are you feeling?"
Tori looked somewhat startled, then shook her head and looked away.
"We were to be engaged", she finally murmured. "My family opposed the union. They did not consider Caia a good enough prospect..."
She studied the sleeping form of the Glinn for a few seconds.
"I cannot lose her", she announced in a stronger voice. "I will resume the engagement, I do not care what they say." She looked straight at him as if daring him to disagree. He could not say anything, but offered her his kindest smile; she returned it. Then, as if revealing a secret, she whispered: "You can choose your family, you know?"
"Now I definitely have the right one. The novel was quite a sensation on Cardassia and I am not surprised you would like it. An honorable Gil, coming within a step of achieving his greatest dreams, chose to sacrifice everything to devotedly assist his parents-"
"Nope. Not that one."
"No?"
"No, trust me on that."
Avis was an orphan. The Chief Tactical Officer mentioned it over lunch one day after Corin admitted to being somewhat anxious about leaving his parents behind. He came from a service class family from the Northern Continent, barely scraping by with the meager produce from their fields. Still, when Corin was accepted in the College of Science and offered a scholarship in Lakarian City, they worked hard for months, selling every little bit of food they could do without to afford the transport ticket to send him there.
Corin had juggled work and study for years, trying to stay afloat while acing his tests to make his parents proud. When he finally graduated and ventilated the possibility of returning home, refusing a place under Gul Teren, their parents would hear nothing of it. He had a chance at a career and most of his friends were in Lakarian City by then. All their sacrifices and hard work were to ensure their child had a better shot at life than they had, if he came back out of some misplaced filial duty, everything would have been for nothing, they told him. Corin had eventually acquiesced but still felt guilty and worried about them constantly.
Avis made the announcement quietly, apparently expecting the stunned silence that followed. He smiled sombrely and went on to explain that, since he never knew his parents but grew up in an orphanage, he never knew what it meant to have people ready to make such sacrifices for him. Seeing his crewmate's crushed expression, he raised a hand and quickly added that he completely agreed with his parents. They saw the opportunity to give their child a better head start than either of them had had and took it; such was the role of a parent.
"Are you happy in your role? Of your life?"
"Immensely."
"Then you should accept their gift. They made you proud by behaving as parents should; you made them proud by taking what they were offering and making it bloom into something worthwhile. It would be disrespectful to them and their sacrifices to throw everything away out of misplaced guilt. Remember to be thankful for them and to them and never forget where you came from."
"I would never! I go back to them every chance I have, to let them know that I am doing good!"
"That is the right attitude. I also go back to my orphanage every chance I have."
He took a bite out of his meal and chewed pensively, once again ignoring the uneasy silence.
"It is important that the children see. I am a Chief Tactician and a pilot. I am married, I have children. And the orphans need to know that it is possible. That they have a fighting chance, that something is waiting for them outside the orphanage. That they are not less than. When I was their age, I would have liked to know that."
"Honestly, doctor, I am at a loss. Gils never featured prominently in our novels or our culture in general! Are you quite sure it is a Cardassian game you are playing?"
"Positive. Believe me, I had to check. Several times."
"This is so frustrating! Can I not simply invite you out for dinner and be done with this ridiculous challenge?"
"Sure you can... but you would be admitting defeat...."
"So inconsiderate, doctor!"
Following an attack from a group of ferocious beasts hidden in a nebula, Julian had another chance to visit the infirmary and finally pieced together why Tori's parents were against the match with Caia. They had nothing to reproach to the woman herself but did not think that an officer working under Gul Teren would have a stellar career and Julian was not sure he understood why. From what he'd observed of him, Teren embodied the perfect Cardassian Gul: he was the first on deck and the last to leave, if he left at all; he encouraged his crew and seemed to genuinely care about their continued well-being; he relied on them and showed through his actions that they could rely on him. But there was the red cape. The eye-catching red cape, which he maintained meticulously and wore every day without fault. Julian now understood this to be a damning feature, as all the novels Garak lent him insisted on the importance of conforming, of not drawing undue attention. The military standard uniform did not contemplate accessories of any kind; wearing a cape, and of such a garish color, denoted a spirit that went against everything Cardassia stood for.
It would have been so easy to just remove the cape. People would have assumed it had been just a phase. The doctor wondered why Teren did not simply give up on the habit altogether; it was just a cape and his life would be so much easier. And yet...
Gul Teren returned on deck after a brief pause, the red cape swishing silently behind him and providing a welcome splash of color in a sea of black. He sat down on the command chair, adjusting the piece of clothing with practiced ease, looking positively regal.
And yet, Gul Teren without a red cape would not be Gul Teren at all.
Garak was woken up by incessant knocking on the door of his quarters at a quarter past midnight. He silently got up, accessed the security feed he streamed directly from Odo's office and was surprised to see his dear friend Julian Bashir, clad in a blue pajama, standing just outside his door.
"Enter!", he ordered, his curiosity getting the best of him, and was treated to the view of the positively flustered young human.
"Garak! Thank god! I am so sorry to barge in announced like this, but this has been torturing me for days and I need to know!"
Feeling his heart rate increasing with each word, the former spy composed himself and finally managed to ask a bit breathlessly: "What do you need to know?"
The doctor deftly unbuttoned the top of his pajama jacket and languidly run two fingers on the curve of his neck and shoulder. "What does this mean?"
Garak was sure he was going to swoon. Such a vulgar gesture!
"Doctor where- who-". He was sputtering, unable to finish the sentence. Julian looked somewhat uneasy.
"Huh... someone did that in front of me", he finally admitted sheepishly and once again the Cardassian could not properly form words.
"They- they- I cannot believe it! Such a- to be propositioned like that on a respectable space station!"
"Wait, propositioned?"
The tailor turned towards the human, unsure of how to tactfully explain the brazen request for sex the gesture implied. However, it seemed Julian had already formed his conclusion. Realization dawned on his face and he helplessly hid it in his hands.
"I cannot believe that Gul Nerell propositioned me and I did not even realize until now! How could I have been so stupid?!"
Garak made to approach his friend, intent on consoling him and offering his services to report whoever made such a vulgar offer, but the name suddenly made something click in his brain.
"Gul Nerell? The Gul Nerell?"
Julian stopped his prolonged face-palming and nodded, a wistful sigh escaping his lips.
After journeying for a little over a week and facing countless dangers, they were finally back in the Cardassian system. Teren, who had done nothing but study the ship's logs related to the current and map a route to avoid it, carefully guided Caia and Avis through the landing; when they touched the ground, there was a loud cheering. The crew immediately made preparations to disembark, Tori having rounded up all her medical equipment in case it was quickly needed.
The walk to reach Gul Nerell's fallen vessel took less than 20 minutes, but through it all, Julian felt his heart hammering in his chest; how very typical of a Cardassian story it would be to have all their efforts be for nothing in the end. He did not think he could bear it if, after growing attached to all the characters in the game, he had to witness their fall from grace due to a delay that was in no way their fault. They finally reached the ruined ship and started scanning for life signs. As no cheery beep was heard, Julian shut his eyes and braced for the worst. Then, the beep came.
A few scraps of metal, which seemed to have been huddled together to form a crude pyramid, suddenly moved and a figure emerged, taking the doctor's breath away. He vaguely registered tallness, possibly, and the signature dark hair, but what his eyes thirstily drank in with complete relish was the uniform: a wonderful cacophony of colors, from the most delicate shade of blue to the loudest yellow. He had no idea what material it was made of, but the general effect was of shiny dragon scales reflecting a rainbow. Julian did not even feel his feet move, but they must have at some point, for he suddenly found himself standing just before the largest scrap, offering his arm to the enchanting apparition to help them climb down their makeshift house. The creature, who could be none other than Gul Nerell, took the proffered arm with a chuckle and soon they were on level ground. The Gul offered him a cheerful smile and told him something undecipherable. Head still slightly spinning and eyes full of colors, Julian was unsure whether Nerell was using a different accent or his mind had simply abandoned him.
Tori's arrival and her prompt taking charge of checking the Gul's conditions put the doubt to rest; Julian could indeed understand the Medical Officer's questions, but could not make sense of any of the answers, which frustrated him to no end. Finally, Tori pronounced Nerell fit enough for someone who survived a ship crash. Again, the Gul spoke and Julian felt even more left out when he realized that all his crewmates reacted with impossible excitement; when Teren ordered Corin to grab his ore-detecting kit, he finally understood why.
As the crew cheerfully made their way back to their vessel, Gul Nerell turned towards Julian, offered him another wide smile and murmured something unintelligible. Then, with agonizing slowness, he placed two fingers on his neck and slowly caressed the scaly skin all the way down to the shoulder. The doctor could only gape.
"You- you have been playing "For the Heart of the Union"!!"
"Correct! Finally, took you enough to figure it out..."
"How could you have possibly gained access to it? Game and novel have been blacklisted for over 50 years!"
"I told you, I found it via Quark's automatic selection. How it came to be on the station, is anyone's guess. But wait, blacklisted?"
"One of my mentor's earliest and proudest achievements."
"Why am I not surprised... Hated the happy ending, I suppose."
"The whole story is an insult to the Cardassian spirit and values! Gul Nerell, in particular, is a menace! Their being a Gul from the service class is bad enough, but that they would still speak in their native dialect is a travesty! Honestly, they are-"
"Wait, "they"?? I did notice that a different pronoun was used by the characters when speaking about the Gul, but I thought it was simply another form of "he"! I can't believe I misgendered them during the whole game!"
"Considering they are nothing but a bunch of coding, I do not think they will hold it against you."
"It's the principle of the thing! Don't you find it lousy when an author announces that a character is LGBTQ only when the story is over? Speaking of which... did you mention a novel?"
"Oh no, you won't! That book represents one of the lowest points in our literary history!"
"Must be why I like it so much. Come on, don't you want to compare notes?"
"... I never read it."
"What?!"
"Tain would have had my head."
"Right. Well, since you won dinner, why don't we meet up Saturday evening at the restaurant of your choice and I can tell you all about it?"
"I believe we will discuss all about it."
"Oh?"
"You would get entirely the wrong idea and probably start spouting nonsense about how Cardassian literature is not as monolithic as I would have you believe. You need someone to guide you through this dark chapter of our history."
"Of course I do... Besides, I doubt Tain would care at this point."
Light years away, in a luxurious mansion on the Arawath Colony, former spy-master Enabran Tain sneezed.