Chapter Text
'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.'
ONE: After This Our Exile
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.'
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.