Chapter Text
I know, I know
I'm driving too slow
For the world to pull me over
I’m too careful I’m too sober
I know, I know
There's nowhere to go
If I put the car in neutral
My destination still won’t be my home
“Dukat, come speak with me for a moment,”
Mekor gave the towels he had just finished folding one last press to rid them of any wrinkles and followed his rather severe supervisor to a storage closet that constituted her office.
Head Orderly Kalin was a severe-looking woman. She didn’t have much patience for young orderlies more interested in flirting and joking with one another than their work, which made her unpopular with many of Mekor’s coworkers.
That said, Mekor was not overly popular with his coworkers either. He rather liked Kalin, she didn’t really care who he was as long as he showed up on time and did his work.
“Which institute were you slated for before the fire?” She asked without looking up from her PADD.
“Institute?” Mekor didn’t quite know what to make of such a strange question. Like all higher class families, his parents had assumed he would garner a place at one of the Cardassian Institutes of higher learning but he was one year too young at the time of the bombardment to have attended.
Kalin just stared at him, waiting for an answer.
“Dekaris, probably,” He finally stuttered out. Why did she want to know this?
“And I assume you received the education necessary to attend such a prestigious institution?” Kalin continued, putting a slightly mocking emphasis on the word prestigious.
“Yes Ma'am,”
“Good. I am reassigning you,” She said with little fanfare.
Mekor felt panic bloom in his chest. Reassignment meant new people, new curious people who would stare and try to strike up conversation with him.
“May I ask why I am being reassigned?” Mekor tried to sound calm.
“Dukat, you are my best worker,” Kalin said, “I have to admit, I was worried you would think too highly of yourself but you have proven both humble and capable. Your talents would be better served doing something besides cleaning sick basins,”
Mekor fidgeted uncomfortably. He knew people had all sorts of preconceptions about him, which is why he mostly kept his head down.
“I am assigning you to the lab of one of the new Federaji doctors who arrived this week. He needs help preparing and running samples for his research so he can split his time with the OR,”
Two years after the end of the war, Cardassia still couldn’t stand on her own. She was lucky the Federation seemed abundantly forgiving.
Kalin’s face softened as she handed over Mekor’s reassignment paperwork.
“I can’t imagine the challenge of being a notorious orphan. You are still young, you can do more for Cardassia than you give yourself credit for,”
Mekor Nodded blankly, not sure how to manage this nurturing side of Kalin.
***
Mekor sometimes wondered what his mother would think of him living in a decrepit fifth floor walk up with four other roommates. He was pretty sure she would be horrified.
That said, there was very little about his current life she wouldn’t find horrifying.
“Hey, Mekor,” one of his roommates called from the table of hotplates that constituted their kitchen, “What did Kalin want with you?”
“I’m being reassigned to a lab,” Dukat responded. He didn’t have much of a relationship with his roommates, which was just as well. Rotel, though, he had gone to primary school with. They shared the ignominy of both being one year too young to escape orphan status at the time of the bombardment and a high class education that wasn’t serving them much in this new Cardassia.
“To a lab? Too good to wash out bedpans with the rest of us now. Must be nice to be her favorite,” Rotel teased, scooping food out of the pan onto Mekor’s plate.
“I am not her favorite. I just show up when I am supposed to in the morning and stay until I am meant to in the evening. You should try it sometime, if it wouldn’t be too hard on your constitution of course,”
“Oh well, if that is what it takes, I will stick with the bedpans,” Rotel took the rest of the meal and ate it leaning against the door jam, “Which lab is it?”
“Radiation research with some Federaji doctor named,” Mekor checked the orders again, “Doctor Julian Bashir,”
“Weird name, where do you think she’s from?”
Mekor just shrugged as he turned on the ‘casts. He was less concerned about the increasing ubiquitousness of aliens in their midst than Rotel was. Some habits died hard for some he supposed.
The screen filled with the face of one of Castellan Ghemor’s aids. His name was Garak, if Mekor remembered correctly. He was answering questions about some municipal improvement project. Nothing overly exciting.
“Why’s that podul-slet got the Castellan’s ear and we are stuck in a room with no window?” Rotel said bitterly.
Mekor winced slightly at the rude term for a gay man. Rotel didn’t seem to notice.
“He was Damar’s right hand man in the rebellion,”
“And he is slippier than a rokat at the evening market. I don’t trust him,” Rotel
“I think he used to work for the Order, so that might be wise,” Mekor said thoughtfully.
“Then it is further bullshit,” Rotel said, dropping his plate in the apartment's one sink.
Mekor shrugged and considered the man on the screen. He was handsome, in an older sort of way. He held himself like a man who liked being looked at.
“I’m going to bed. See you in the morning,” Mekor said after cleaning both plates.
He had quite enough of Rotel for one night.
***
Mekor was surprised to find his new Federaji supervisor elbow deep in his workstation’s wiring the next morning.
“Oh, hello! Just give me one moment,” the human man in front of him wrinkled his nose, considering the readout on his screen. He seemed happy with the results because he replaced the input plate.
“Pleasure to meet you, I am Doctor Julian Bashir, I assume you are the lab tech they assigned me?”
Doctor Bashir seemed to buzz with an energy he didn’t know what to do with. The man was shifting from one foot to the next and fiddling with his PADD. Were all humans like this or just this one?
“I’m Dukat,” Mekor said stiffly. This was his least favorite part of any introduction.
“I know this is a terribly rude question…” Bashir began.
“Yes,” Mekor said before Bashir had a chance to finish, “I am the only living child of Gul Skrain Dukat,”
“Ah, yes,” Did this man ever sit still?
“I actually met your father a few times…”
“I am sorry to hear it,” Mekor said as lightly as he could manage.
Bashir laughed gamely at the joke.
“Well, let's get started then. Do you have any lab experience?”
After Bashir explained Mekor’s instructions, they settled into an amiable silence.
For a time anyway.
“So,” Bashir said nervously, “You seem young, what brought you to the hospital?”
“It seemed useful work,” Mekor shrugged, “And they weren’t overly picky about who showed up,”
“Hmm,” Bashir responded politely. They briefly fell back into silence before the doctor seemed compelled to break it again.
“What do you like to do for fun? I am still learning the city so I am always eager to get new recommendations,”
“I watch the ‘casts sometimes. It seems advisable to pay attention to what this new government is up to,”
“Might I ask what your thoughts are?”
“It seems fine,” Mekor responded with a shrug, “I am just glad someone else is figuring all this out and not me. It seems rather messy,”
“Democracy is messy sometimes,” Bashir said diplomatically.
Mekor let the silence fill between them again. It wasn’t an unpleasant silence, though Doctor Bashir did seem to prefer filling it. Mekor decided to give the poor man some help.
“Where were you stationed before Cardassia?”
Doctor Bashir immediately brightened.
“I was Chief Medical Officer of Deep Space Nine, formerly Terok Nor. It was my first posting out of medical school, I had my pick of postings but I chose that one…”
Bashir took the invitation to take on the vast majority of the talking at that point, only requiring the occasional proof of comprehension from Mekor.
Mekor spent the afternoon alone in the lab running endless samples while Doctor Bashir went to the OR.
All told, it was better than cleaning bedpans.
***
“So what is she like?” Rotel asked over Mekor’s attempt at dinner.
“Who?” Mekor knew who of course but there was no need to encourage Rotel.
“The Federaji of course? I assume she was an alien, what sort of alien is she?”
“He’s human. And a man. He seems nice, if maybe a bit impressed with himself. He definitely likes to talk,” Mekor said.
“Did he know who your father was?” Rotel asked with false indifference.
“Of course he did. He’s human, not stupid,” Really, sometimes Mekor thought Cardassians deserved the things the rest of the quadrant said about them. At least upper class Cardassians like Rotel and himself.
“Did he make a pass at you?” Rotel said with a smirk.
“What?! No! What in the Eternal Union gave you that impression?”
“They say humans will bed anything with legs,” Rotel said with a shrug, “Seems a fair question,”
“Maybe you should spend more time actually learning about the aliens instead of believing every passing impression our parents gave us,” Mekor snapped before he could stop himself.
Rotel just laughed as he took Mekor’s empty plate and began to wash up.