Chapter Text
As he walked the streets of Kardasi’or toward the Central Library, Elim Garak felt wonder at how good a day it had been. Even after three years of good days, days that on average had been growing better and better, he still found he could not take them for granted. There had been a time, and a long time at that, when things like personal happiness, companionship, and certainly love and family, had been in very short supply. How different things were these days.
Why, here he was, in the heart of the capital, nearly four years ago decimated by the Dominion assault, and the streets and buildings were looking passable. Government buildings had at last been rebuilt. There were apartments and shops, crowds bustled, outdoor markets were open — finally with home-produced food — and both public transit and some private vehicles were operating. It was not the city of his youth, but it was no longer a devastated ruin. There were touches of beauty once more — bits of public art, small parks, flowering bushes. Even two years prior, the scene would have been hard to imagine, but there been a lot of good days, and piled together, they had resulted in a people’s dreams running ahead of schedule.
Then there was his own life. He had only a half hour earlier signed a contract for a professorship in Kardasi literature at Kardasi’or University. When, in the second phase of courtship, his now-husband Julian has asked him what his “long term plan” was, he had merely dared to name such a position as a distant possibility. Never had he thought the day would come so soon. After the Dominion assault, he’d served as pur-nim of Elgin’kor District – coordinating rations, rebuilding, food gardens, sanitation, eventually even seeing parks built. He had thought the hard work would never end, but eventually, the district had reached the point where it did not demand nearly so much attention, and when his niece Inda, now a university student, had mentioned the open position, he had leapt at the opportunity. And he now had it in his hands. He would start teaching in a few weeks, when the term began.
But now he was at the library to meet with its director. Actually, strictly speaking he was there because he planned to be using the library in preparation for his courses, but he had arranged a meeting with Ran Madgred as a matter of courtesy. They had, after all, become acquainted over the past few years as Elim had donated superfluous volumes from his private library to the state archive or allowed rare editions to be scanned and duplicated. A check-in seemed appropriate.
With a permissive nod from the head secretary, Elim entered the director's office to find Madgred at a desk half-buried in PADDs.
"Salmakt, Director Madgred," he greeted. "I must say you present the perfect image of a library director."
Madgred grinned thinly. "Salmakt, Mr. Garak. Or is it now Professor Garak?"
"Professor. I was just officially signed on."
"Ah, then congratulations. Please sit and let us chat, professor."
A small rush of pleasure went through Elim at this first use of his new title.
“Let me tell you about some of our latest upgrades…"
What followed was a lengthy, though pleasant, discussion of library repairs — nearly completed, at long last — along with updates on collections now once more available, digitization projects, and even work on ancient literature archives. A longer conversation than Elim expected, but he had nowhere to be and was happy to hear that so many excellent resources would be available both to him and his future students.
A newly available copy of a long repressed Kardasi epic? Was he interested in perusing it? The question was properly how soon could he get a copy.
It was when Madgred mentioned work on a translation of the Na’Satt sagas that Elim’s interest was truly piqued, however. This ancient Hebitian work was legendary, although he had heard intermittent rumors of efforts to have it fully restored and translated.
“The Na’Satt?” Elim asked. “Is that a fact? You have someone working on this now?"
“Yes, down in the archive,” Madgred confirmed. “Tangent Agiv, our late distinguished senior Hebitian expert, had been working on it for nearly twenty years, but he was killed in the bombardment. Along with several other archivists, I might add. So work had come to a halt. Frankly, we had other things that were higher priority, but we’re glad to have the project moving forward again."
“You found a new Hebitian expert?” Elim surmised.
Madgred shook his head faintly. “Not exactly, but someone who could do the work. In fact, you might enjoy meeting him.” He rose to his feet. “I’d speak more but I actually have a meeting in just a minute. I would suggest, if you’re interested in the project, heading down to the archive. Ask for Katagen."
Elim rose and inclined his head. “Thank you. I appreciate the time you’ve taken to speak with me."
“And I appreciate all you’ve done for Kardasia."
A minute later and he was in the halls of the library, admiring the renovation work and noting staff busily filing data rods, working at computer consoles, and otherwise keeping the machine running. Kardasia was getting back to normal.
He approached a young worker, looking to be fresh out of university. "Pardon me, but where might I find the archive?"
"Well, the nearest stairs are that way," he supplied, gesturing to the end of the room. "I'd avoid the turbolift – they say is fixed but I don't trust it personally. Just follow the stairs down to the bottom public level. Below that, it's a sub-basement. Anyway, you'll be in the archive. Is there something in particular you're looking for?"
"Not a what as much as a who," Elim explained. "Your director recommended I seek out Katagen, who's working on the Na'Satt."
"Ah, then you'll have no trouble. He's easy to find. Just ask."
---
Elim hesitated outside the archive workroom, wanting to enter but caught between the warring emotions of fascination and distaste. While he had undoubtedly located the staff member he'd been seeking, he was not anything like what he'd been expecting. He wasn't even Kardasi.
Katagen stood at a white table, reminiscent of a lab bench, carefully piecing together an antique manuscript. Even hunched over, it was evident the alien was a head taller than the average Kardasi. His skin, uncovered on his face and hands, was black as night. Elim couldn't quite make out the details of his similarly dark hair, but some of it, hanging past the angular cheekbones, appeared to be plaited and set with shiny beads.
Elim didn't recognize the species at all. And while it was well and good for an alien to be working in the state library, even in the archive, how could he possibly be qualified to be working on Kardasia's oldest written treasures? He was taking up the Na'Satt, by the stars! It was a ridiculous proposition. Surely there had to be a Kardasi – a linguist, a literature expert – more qualified. An alien engineer or doctor or scientist, yes, Elim could accept that, but an alien Kardasi literature expert? No, the idea was offensive. Still, he had come all the way down and he was interested in the work, so he might as well go ahead and make inquiries. And anyway, hadn’t he better tamp down that prejudiced voice in his head?
He knocked smartly on the door and peered through the window beside it so that the room's occupant would see him. Katagen looked up from his work, set his tools down, and came over to allow Elim in.
"Salmakt," he greeted. "You are looking for something?" He spoke Kardasi fluently, albeit with a strong, unidentifiable accent.
"Salmakt. Yes, I'm Professor Elim Garak, with Kardasi’or University." He placed a hand against his chest deferentially. "I was just speaking with your director and he mentioned your work on the Na'Satt."
"Ah, yes. Come in," he said, holding the door open wider. "I am Katagen, assistant archivist of ancient manuscripts. It has been my honor to continue Tangent Agiv's work. I've been at for more than half a year."
Elim stepped into the room. A wide desk at the far end held a large computer monitor and an array of PADDs, while the walls were lined with shelves filled with bound volumes, some of them clearly antique. The air smelled faintly of dust and leather.
"Is that it over there?" he asked, gesturing towards the table.
"Ah, no,” corrected the alien, stepping across the room. Elim had been right about the man’s full height and, he saw now, about the beads, which ran through braided hair framing a long, narrow face. “That is an interesting piece, however. It's a bit of Kardasi poetry, about 400 years old."
Katagen beckoned Elim closer, and he could see how the pages had been rent and torn, but were now coming together.
"A construction worker discovered it while working in a basement a few months after the bombardment and brought it here, or the ruins of this place,” Katagen explained, his long, tapered fingers making a gesture that encompassed the archive. “Madgred tells me the library received so many rescued fragments like this that they simply stockpiled them until staff were available. We're only just getting around to examining this one."
Although Elim was not familiar with the specialized arts of manuscript restoration, to his layman's eye the work in progress appeared to have been carried out meticulously.
Of course, he had to remain skeptical. "You have experience with this type of work?" he asked lightly.
"Oh yes," the alien replied confidently, tucking a set of beads over his ear. "Extensive restoration experience. I am also able to work with three older forms of Kardasi as well as the known variants of Hebitian."
This otherworlder knew that much? How was that even possible? Elim's mind brimmed with questions. But for now he steered back to the original purpose of his visit.
"So tell me, Katagen, about your work on the Na'Satt."
Katagen smiled, lowering his tall figure into the chair behind the desk. "It's nearly finished. I work on it for a couple of hours every morning. It's been fully digitized and the entire work has been translated, notated, cross-referenced.”
The console beeped and the archivist looked down, apparently in response to some comms. “Ah, excuse me, just one moment, let me see to this.” While his new acquaintance looked down, Elim studied the long, dark face, accentuated by a high, triangular forehead, studded with pearl-sized adornments along the hairline. It was a beautiful visage.
“Now, sorry, where was I?” Katagen said, looking up. “Oh yes – the Na’Satt. I'm in a proofing stage. Some sections are being reviewed by individuals elsewhere on Kardasia. We want this to be an absolutely definitive version, you understand."
"I understand," Elim replied automatically, his mind meanwhile still wincing at the idea of a non-Kardasi elbows deep in Hebitian cultural treasures.
And what sort of alien was Katagen anyway? He most certainly wanted to ask, but the question seemed gauche. He couldn’t remember ever asking such a question on Terek Nor. And why ask directly when there were much more discreet avenues of inquiry?
"Well, thank you for your time," he said, wrapping up the encounter. "As a new professor – I should mention, I've only just been appointed – I will be spending time in the library frequently and I suspect I will have need to consult the archive now and then. I hope to stay abreast of your progress."
Katagen offered a polite nod from his desk. "Thank you, Professor Garak. I look forward to it. To be frank, I have few visitors outside of staff."
Not knowing how to reply to this, Elim merely nodded slightly and made his way out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
As he walked through the archive towards the stairs, Elim considered asking one of Katagen's colleagues the species question, but there wasn't much of anyone around. Instead he approached Madgred's assistant. The director himself was still in a meeting.
"Katagen?" the woman clarified, as she handled multiple comms. "He's a refugee from... Arakagen. I think I'm saying that right. He's been here a year and a half." She stared at her console, obviously vexed. "Federation resettlement program. I'm sorry– that's all I can tell you now, things are really–"
"I understand," Elim assured her, although he actually didn't. Arakagen? He'd never heard of such a place.
---
Within a few hours, Elim had put the incident out of his mind. At home in his office, he was just finishing up a round of work he was undertaking to prepare his successor in the pur-nim position. After nearly four years of successfully managing the district, Elim felt it was important to document everything that had been achieved and outline all the methods he'd developed to keep things running smoothly. He didn't have to do these things, of course, but as always, he felt a duty to the state to do his best.
In the meantime, he could judge from the sounds coming up from below that the three children – not exactly relatives but close – had arrived home with Inda. As she had been doing all summer, she'd picked them up from the local child center or friends’ homes on the way home from university. School wasn't in session but Inda was a dedicated student, and as such had committed herself to a summer internship. She would make a wonderful civil engineer, if Elim was any judge.
Just then there was a quiet knock on the door. "Come in," he entreated, setting down the PADD he was working with.
Inda stepped in, wearing a smock over her day clothes and carrying the aroma of what could only be dinner. "It'll be ready in 20 minutes, Uncle," she announced.
"What will?" he teased. Inda was his niece by adoption, a relationship forged in time of hardship, and they exchanged friendly jibes like the family they were.
"Like I have to tell you," she replied, moving back towards the door. "And Julian will be home soon, I hope?"
Elim rolled his eyes, a habit he'd picked up from his husband. "He had better be! He promised the other day to not miss any family meals, even if he’s not up to eating much of them."
Inda nodded. "He's a doctor. I know he will try, especially with this. And he's taking all the nutritional supplements."
"He is." Elim rose from his desk. "Now, why don't I change into something a little less formal and meet you downstairs in twenty minutes?"
After Inda left, Elim took a moment to dwell on that which still stunned him a bit: Everyday family life. Something that for most of his life he never thought he would have, but these days something he cherished every day.
---
An hour later Julian was cradled against him on the living room sofa.
"That was delicious," he murmured, pressing a kiss into Elim's upper neck.
He petted his husband's curling hair gently. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Appetite improving?"
Julian nodded. "Yes. I hope this is a trend."
"I share your sentiment. This Human 'morning sickness' has not been pleasant to witness," he soothed. "And I can't help but empathize."
Once they had decided the time was right, arranging for Julian to conceive and carry their biological child had been fairly straightforward. Between Julian's position at the hospital and above all his very successful role as Federation ambassador, all the resources needed had been at their disposal. Two months after the womb implant, implantation of the embryo and commencement of hormone treatments, they were now genuinely preparing for a baby.
"Thank you as always for indulging your alien husband," Julian said fondly.
At the word "alien" – or more properly "otherworlder," as the Kardasi term for alien was decidedly rude – Elim's mind was brought back to the encounter at the library archive that afternoon.
"That reminds me, ss’avi." He pulled back and sat up. Julian shifted his head into Elim's lap. "This afternoon I made a most curious acquaintance at the Central Library."
"Oh?" Julian murmured, making himself more comfortable. "You don't mean the director, I gather. I thought you’d already met."
"No, not him, love. This was down in the archive. Madgred let me know of work on a legendary Hebitian saga and I had gone down to meet the staff member doing the work." Now... how to explain his reaction without sounding like a xenophobe, which he certainly wasn't. "I was quite surprised to discover he was an otherworlder, given the nature of the work, but even more, that I could not recognize his species."
Julian glanced up and backwards. "Did you ask him?"
Elim sighed. "No, it felt awkward. But I did ask upstairs, Madgred's assistant. She said he'd come here through a Federation resettlement program. A refugee from a planet I'd never heard of— Arakagen."
"You must mean Katagen," said Julian, shifting into a sitting position. "I approved his relocation application. Must have been a year and half ago." He paused in thought. "I wasn't actually on planet when it came in, but his circumstances were so unusual I remember them."
"With your usual computer-like accuracy, I presume?" Elim teased. Julian knew his husband didn't mind his genetic enhancements one bit.
"Yes, indeed. He's a refugee from the Gamma Quadrant."
"The Gamma Quadrant?" That thought had not even crossed his mind. "Really? That makes his employ in the archive working on ancient Kardasi and Hebitian manuscripts even more curious."
Julian took Elim's hand. "Do I detect some measure of... territoriality?"
"Well, you must admit it's a bit odd. A member of a Gamma quadrant species on Kardasia working in a state library." He considered the matter briefly. "I wonder... Is he a former Dominion ally paying penance?"
"No, he isn't." Julian's tone was serious, almost scolding. "The opposite. About a year before the war's end, Katagen’s world was annihilated by the Dominion. Of the entire population, he is literally the only survivor."
Elim swallowed, suddenly feeling a weight of guilt over his hostility. He closed his eyes and thought of the long, dark face he’d seen. "What they tried to do to Kardasia... they actually did to his world," he said quietly.
Julian nodded. "Yes. He's not even properly a ‘refugee,’ as he has nowhere to go back to. As I recall, the nearest civilization, with whom his planet had a close relationship, was also wiped out. So there is no one left at all who even remembers his world."
"Except him." It was a horrifying notion.
"Yes." Julian squeezed Elim’s hand. "Now, perhaps you could go back to him and discuss his work with a bit more sympathy? I expect he's rather lonely."
Elim thought back. "Actually, he mentioned that."
"Well, then!" Julian stretched his arms over his head and stood. "Think I need a nap. Care to join me in bed? I'm beat."
"Now when did I ever refuse such an offer, ss’avi?"
As he followed his husband upstairs, thoughts of the orphaned otherworlder trailed behind him like ghosts.