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BASHIR: Fifty-five years old and living on Earth.
MONTAG GIEL: Twenty-seven years old and a Cardassian. Giel is naïve, eager, obsessed with James Bond and a little bit brash. Giel’s main goal in life is the acquisition of alien books, particularly Earth novels, which are banned on Cardassia. A war orphan, he has no family.
DRONE SHIP COMPUTER: voice only, small part, mechanical.
Notes:
Bashir befriended Giel a few years ago, back when he lived on Cardassia. During their weekly lunch conversations, the doctor gently attempted to get Giel to question Cardassian propaganda. Many of the things Giel says and does in this script are echoes of things Bashir did when he was younger, particularly shit he once pulled on Sisko. Older Bashir is very aware of this.
***
The study in Bashir’s house on Earth. It is the middle of the night and yet the video screen on the desk is beeping incessantly. Incoming call… Bashir enters wrapped in a dressing gown. Barely awake, he stumbles toward the screen and clicks open the channel.
BASHIR: Giel.
GIEL: Doctor!
BASHIR: I don’t know what time it is on Cardassia, Giel. But here on Earth it’s… it’s…
He looks blearily around for a clock… fails to find one…
BASHIR: It’s too early.
Bashir flops forward, resting his head on the desk.
GIEL: Wow! Look at your room! It’s all made of wood and stuff. That’s so alien. So quaint.
BASHIR: Quaint?
GIEL: It’s like something out of that book you lent me. (remembering the title) Peter Pan! It’s like the treehouse in Peter Pan!
BASHIR: It really isn’t.
GIEL: It is. (delighted, peering closer) I can’t see any 24th Century materials… no synthetics or bio-architecture. Ha! This is what I wanted: Earth! The farthest reaches of the galaxy. Buildings made of mud and wood and brick. People living in antiques!
BASHIR: This ‘antique’ is my home.
GIEL: Oh, I didn’t mean to imply -
BASHIR: I have 8.00am surgery tomorrow. I can’t spend all night –
Bashir stops. He’s woken up and noticed Giel moving his hands, making course corrections, piloting a vessel.
BASHIR: You’re in a ship. You’re not on Cardassia. (alarmed by Giel’s background) Is that a Bajoran runabout?
GIEL: That’s right.
BASHIR: Where are you?
GIEL: I’m in orbit. Around Earth.
BASHIR: Earth!
GIEL: Yes.
BASHIR: But you can’t be! Giel! The Cardassian border is closed. How, how did you even get here? There’s the beaming wall, there’s the Starfleet blockade --
GIEL: I did a probability leap.
BASHIR: You did what.
GIEL: A Probability Leap. It’s a form of quasi-statistical transportation which uses chance to beam vast distances without a fixed lock on the end destin-
BASHIR: I know what a Probability Leap is, thank you.
GIEL: (sheepish) Oh right.
Giel smiles. It’s the same smile Bashir used to give Sisko after a slightly condescending, technobabble explanation.
GIEL: Anyway, so I bought a ticket on the Cardassia Orbital, set the transporter range for any ships on the other side of the border; waited until none of the Stewardesses were looking and then… WHOOSH! Leapt across! Worked a treat; I ended up in the hold of a Bajoran Ore Freighter! Stole one of their runabouts and -
BASHIR: You leapt between two moving ships?
GIEL: Yes.
BASHIR: I’ve never heard of that being done before. How did you allow for the speed of the Freighter?
GIEL: (proudly) With this.
Giel pushes up his sleeve. A scrambler bracelet (outlawed in all of the Four Quadrants) hangs around his wrist.
BASHIR: You, you… you scramble jumped!
Giel rolls his eyes.
BASHIR: With a scrambler bracelet! On top of a Probability Leap! Across an entire sector!
Bashir struggles to keep it together. This boy is an idiot! The probability leap is risky enough, but a scramble jump!
BASHIR: A scramble jump! What the hell were you thinking? You could have rematerialised in the vacuum of space.
GIEL: But I didn’t though.
BASHIR: Take. The bracelet. Off. Now Giel. Those things are dangerous, do you hear me? The chances of them working properly are 20 to 1. Why in god’s name would you take such a risk?
GIEL: Well to get to the Federation. Obviously. I’ve been planning this for a while actually; practicing my Standard. I don’t need the universal translator anymore. Listen:
Giel adopts the worst posh English accent.
GIEL: Good Mawnnning. How do you dooo? What splendid weather we are having for the time of yee-ar.
BASHIR: Don’t speak Standard.
GIEL: Would you please paaarsss the butter knife?
BASHIR: I’m begging you - stop.
GIEL: I will have a Martini; stirred, not shaken. Good Mawnnning.”
The runabout’s console beeps. Giel reacts to some problem in front of him. He presses some panels, frowns at the display.
BASHIR: What? What is it?
GIEL: An unmanned security drone. It’s hailing me. It’s asking me to land at the nearest sky base.
BASHIR: (urgent) Is it within weapons range?
GIEL: Not yet. It must be close though because it’s detected my bio-signature. It knows I’m Cardassian. Now it’s demanding I land at the nearest sky base. It’s being quite threatening actually… (beat) I’ll open a channel.
BASHIR: No. Do not open a channel.
GIEL: But if I explain to it maybe -
BASHIR: Open a channel and you’ll give away your exact location. It’ll be able to deploy a tractor beam. Swing behind the moon. The luna shadow will block the drone’s scanners. Stay on the dark side for about a minute until it’s lost your signal.
Giel nods. He trusts what Bashir tells him.
GIEL: Understood. Tally ho!
Giel’s comm window closes. Bashir is left in the quiet of his study, processing the unexpected chaos that has just arrived in his life.
BASHIR: (mournfully) I was asleep… I was dreaming. About Ursula Andress… in a white swimsuit…
He looks upward.
BASHIR: I know this is you Sisko. Do you hear me, wherever you are? I knew from the moment he politely introduced himself on Cardassia and asked me to translate ‘Live And Let Die’ for him. That boy! That boy… he is a curse from the Prophets. Literally. A curse. You had to put up with me at that age and so now, from somewhere far beyond space-time, you’re gleefully enacting your own brand of perverse, karmic revenge…
There’s no other explanation. It’s too perfect a coincidence. He’s brash and naïve and he thinks everything is an adventure. He’s enthusiastic and idealistic and he just… he just doesn’t shut up.
T he comm window reopens. Giel is back - breathless, excited.
GIEL: Doctor! I did what you told me with the moon and everything and I think I’ve lost it.
BASHIR: Good. Okay: now listen carefully and follow my instructions. Modulate your shield frequency with an ion warp.
Giel’s hands move over the console, pressing buttons etc.
BASHIR: Then boost the ship’s computing power… and run a quantum calculation on your best course back to Cardassia.
Giel stops following Bashir’s instructions.
GIEL: Back to Cardassia? Why would I want to go back to Cardassia? I’ve come to live here.
BASHIR: Live here?
GIEL: Yes, on Earth. In a utopia. Oh, there’ll be things I miss about Cardassia, naturally… I already do. But my life is going to be much better in the Federation. There’s no war, no poverty, no hunger. All the people are welcoming. And everyone’s equal here! The fact I’m an orphan won’t matter. I’ll be able to do whatever I choose. I’ll be able to read whatever I want.
(beat) That’s true, isn’t it Doctor?
BASHIR: What?
GIEL: You said. You told me. When we used to have our weekly lunches together in Lakat. There’s freedom of speech here, freedom of thought. I can own any book I want. No one will burn it and I won’t be arrested.
BASHIR: Um, yes. Yes, that part is true.
Giel’s worry evaporates.
GIEL: Everything’s alright then. So, I’ve finished the James Bonds you left me; I’m gonna need you to translate more of them. And I’ve heard of a Human concept called ‘libraries’ that I want to check out -
BASHIR: Giel.
GIEL: (wide eyed, innocent) Yes Doctor?
Bashir hesitates. He’s going to try to explain the reality of the situation as gently as he can.
BASHIR: You see the thing is… you’re not a Federation Citizen.
GIEL: That’s okay. I don’t want to be.
BASHIR: You can’t stay here.
GIEL: Can’t I? (disappointed but trying to hide it) Um… well, I suppose not. I wouldn’t want to impose. A hotel will do if there’s no room in your house.
BASHIR: No, I mean you can’t stay here. You can’t stay on Earth.
GIEL: Oh. (pause) Why?
BASHIR: You’re a Cardassian.
GIEL: Why would that matter? You explained it all to me… you said. The Federation isn’t like Cardassia… it’s what’s called ‘A Free Society’. It welcomes diversity. All kinds of species can live wherever they want.
BASHIR: I remember, yes, I did. I did tell you that. And all kinds of species can live wherever they want.
GIEL: Right!
BASHIR: But that doesn’t apply to you.
GIEL: It doesn’t?
BASHIR: No.
GIEL: Oh. (pause) Why?
BASHIR: You’re a Cardassian!
Giel blinks in polite reptilian bewilderment.
GIEL: You keep bringing that up and I don’t see how it’s relevant.
Bashir struggles on.
BASHIR: Look - you crossed the border illegally. Understand? If the authorities find you, they’ll deport you. Cardassia isn’t in the Federation. You need permission to be here; you need papers.
GIEL: Oh. Why?
BASHIR: We can’t let anybody and everybody in! We have to have borders.
GIEL: Oh. (pause) Why?
BASHIR: Because… because… Because - well, I don’t know! Because that’s just how things work, that’s why!
Giel considers this a beat.
GIEL: Doesn’t seem very utopian to me. You’re a post-scarcity economy. All your people are fed; your worlds are prosperous. You live in paradise. Why would you have borders? Why wouldn’t you let everybody in? You could easily do it… with a bit of organisation. If you wanted to.
Giel pauses. A new possibility has entered his mind.
GIEL: If I’m deported back to Cardassia… won’t the Obsidian Order arrest me as a traitor?
The runabout’s console beeps. Giel reacts with alarm.
GIEL: The drone’s back! Less than half a click from me.
Giel works frantically at the controls, out of his depth.
GIEL: I’m caught in a tractor beam! Doctor, I -
The drone’s audio channel opens.
DRONE: Unauthorized alien. By entering Federation space you have broken the law. Turn off your engines and prepare to be towed back to the border.
Giel is out of ideas, helpless. He looks at Bashir.
GIEL: What should I do?
Bashir realises Giel is giving him the same look of expectant belief he used to give Sisko; the responsibility terrifies him.
BASHIR: (beat) Let me deal with it.
He taps a button, widening the channel’s range…
BASHIR: Drone Computer: Cease pursuit. Authorisation Code: Bashir, J, Doctor, Starfleet Medical, Two, Bravo, One.
DRONE: Unable to comply. Medical and Humanitarian codes have been suspended.
BASHIR: What-- why? By who?
DRONE: Homeworld Security. Threat response level is set to high due to last month’s increase in hostile agents trafficking holo-rod messages over the border.
BASHIR: Computer: stop. The lifeform aboard the ship is innocent. If you tow him back to Cardassian space, the authorities there will kill him.
DRONE: Invalid Code. Unable to comply.
GIEL: (afraid) Doctor…
Bashir hesitates. He has a way out of this. But it means showing another side of himself; another hidden truth of the Federation he’d rather Giel didn’t see…
BASHIR: Computer: Cease pursuit. Authorisation: Bashir, J. Commander, Section 31. Zulu, Tango, Black.
The drone beeps robotically.
DRONE: Section 31 code accepted. Pursuit ceased.
The drone’s audio channel clicks off.
GIEL: It’s released the tractor beam! It’s pulling away. (pause) How did you do that?
BASHIR: Hm?
GIEL: You said you were a Commander. You gave a code…
BASHIR: Oh that. That was nothing. It was gobbledygook. Just something I overheard once whilst treating a patient. I’m as surprised as you it worked.
GIEL: (not falling for it) What’s Section 31?
Bashir ignores the question.
BASHIR: Let me know when you’re close enough to transport. I’ll lock on to your signal and beam you here.
GIEL: I can stay on Earth! With you!
BASHIR: Not permanently. Only until I figure an arrangement for you out... a visa for somewhere neutral…and far away… like Bajor or Ferenginar…
GIEL: I have luggage. That’ll need beaming too.
BASHIR: Luggage. (terse) Fine. How much?
GIEL: Not much.
Giel lifts a giant rucksack from the floor and places it in front of the camera, followed by a huge stack of books.
GIEL: I only bought the essentials. Towel, toothbrush, sleeping bag…
BASHIR: … and about a dozen books. (reviewing the titles) Half of those are James Bonds!
GIEL: As I say – the essentials.
Giel adds a USB-like device to his teetering pile of stuff.
BASHIR: (beat) That’s a holo-rod.
GIEL: Yes, Garak gave it to me.
BASHIR: Garak.
GIEL: It was the strangest thing. About a week before I left Cardassia he just sat down next to me when I was having lunch and struck up a conversation. Elim Garak, the former Castellan and he was interested in me… me of all people!
BASHIR: Was he really.
GIEL: He said he’d heard rumours I was planning ‘a trip’. He said if I needed human clothing, he used to be a tailor and if I went to his house at exactly twenty fifty-five that night…
BASHIR: (groaning) No…
GIEL: … he would give me a new suit. Well, that’s what I did and he gave me this holo-rod. (pause)
He didn’t give me the suit though?
Bashir flops forward over the desk, defeated.
BASHIR: I was happy. I was asleep.
GIEL: Gosh… you don’t suppose, do you Doctor; that this could be one of those holo-rod messages the drone was talking about?
Bashir starts to bang his head on the desk.
GIEL: And that maybe Garak was using me as a courier! And now we’re caught up in galactic intrigue! And we have a holo-rod to decrypt! And a mystery to solve!
(noticing what Bashir is doing) Doctor? Doctor what’s the matter? Doctor? Doctor…
Fade out as Giel queries on, not knowing when to shut up…
END.