Work Text:
We Need to Talk About Garak
Ses’erakh, 2385, five days before the election
The debates hadn’t held much appeal for Parmak. The other candidate was way out of his league, and the leading candidate had been visibly (to Parmak’s eye, anyway) reining himself back throughout. Elegantly defeating the opposition was one thing; publicly humiliating him was another. Nobody had much of a taste for cruelty these days. Strange, that.
Ghrell, sitting next to Parmak, shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. Ghrell had turned up on the doorstep to watch every single one of these debates, working his way steadily through the bottle of kanar he brought with him. Ghrell had a professional interest in this kind of thing, but he didn’t, generally, offer much real-time commentary. Perhaps he liked to think about what he’d seen before committing himself. On the screen, and very politely, the leading candidate stepped in to answer the question which had been causing the other candidate such difficulty, thereby putting him out of his misery.
“Does he enjoy this?” said Ghrell.
“He certainly likes the sound of his own voice,” said Parmak.
“Yes, I noticed that when we met.”
The first – and, indeed, only – meeting between the leading candidate and Parmak’s friends had been extremely stressful, but, in the final analysis, successful. Perhaps? Parmak wasn’t entirely sure. Nobody had offered him a performance review, but they had stopped pressing him to make a break. What they were saying to each other behind his back Parmak had no idea, but at least they weren’t still saying it to his face.
The leading candidate was staring at the other candidate as he fumbled his response to an easy question, which he was most likely fumbling because the leading candidate was staring at him. His expression was patient, smiling, and kindly. Parmak almost couldn’t bear to watch.
“Because I’m not sure I’m enjoying this,” said Ghrell. “Don’t get me wrong,” he added, glancing at Parmak, “he’s pitching it just right.”
“He knows what he’s doing.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
Twenty-five years ago, Ghrell had been a fully licensed historian, producing a long-running series of biographies of military leaders that were required reading in educational establishments across the Union. He moved smoothly and seamlessly up the university’s hierarchy. Somewhere in the middle of this, however, he lost the plot. The books became steadily more subversive. The lectures went off-script. The classes became unpredictable. Students didn’t know whether to turn up for the spectacle or avoid them entirely because of the risk of going down with him. Because he was definitely going down.
Only he didn’t. He disappeared one night and turned up again a couple of months later safely in Mathenite space. (Word about that got round the campus in the usual underground fashion.) Parmak heard the news but didn’t ask questions. Better not to ask questions, in his position. Ghrell’s books disappeared from the library and a new man took over his post who was so clearly in the pay of the Order that it was almost laughable. If it hadn’t been so completely, utterly, and deadly serious. They’d actually lived like this, once upon a time, Parmak thought, every single one of them. No wonder they’d all gone slightly mad.
On the screen, the opposition raised the issue of the leading candidate’s notorious past. The leading candidate thanked him for the opportunity to speak on this topic – and began to speak extensively on this topic. In general terms, that was. Nothing you could pin him down on. No more secrets; no more lies. Look history in the face to build the better future. That kind of thing.
“You know,” said Ghrell, “there’s one question I’ve never quite resolved to my satisfaction.”
“Yes?” said Parmak.
“What’s the appeal?”
“To the voters? You’d have to ask them.”
“I can see that with my own two eyes. I mean, what’s the appeal to you?”
A straight question? That was a novelty. Parmak considered the best way to respond. “Do you ask all your friends that about their partners?”
“What would you do if I said ‘yes’?”
“I’d say that your friends have a great deal of patience.”
“That’s me told,” said Ghrell. “Still, I can’t help but wonder. Given…”
“Given what?”
“Kelas, we’ve just watched him address the whole Union about being in the Order. You don’t have to keep on being coy. He’s certainly not.”
On the screen, the debate was drawing to its inevitable conclusion. Parmak took his comm out of his pocket.
“I guess it’s not a problem, then,” said Ghrell. “Or you don’t want to talk about it. As long as you’ve thought about it.”
Parmak didn’t reply.
“Fine,” said Ghrell. “As long as I know where we stand. Fascinating, though, isn’t it?”
“What’s fascinating?”
“The subtext beneath this. It’s like he’s making a challenge to the whole Union, isn’t it?”
“A challenge?”
“Yes. ‘What do you intend to do about the past? What do you intend to do about me?’”
Parmak’s comm chimed. With you soon.
“And that’s the signal for me to go,” Ghrell said, dryly. He stood up and moved towards the door. Right before leaving, he said, “I suppose what I want to know is, are you completely sure about this?”
Who was sure of anything in life? “Ask me in five years’ time.”
“I sincerely hope I won’t have to.” Ghrell gave Parmak a small smile. “I wish I’d known sooner, that’s all.”
“Known what?”
“That you were in the market.” He laughed. “Outmatched by the Order at last. Oh well, better this way round, I suppose.”
Parmak patted him on the shoulder. “Everything will be fine.”
“We’ll see,” Ghrell replied. “You know, I can’t begin to guess what your life will be like this time next week,” he said. “But if a day does come when you look round and realise it’s blown up in your face – well, you know where to find us. You know where to find me.”
He wandered off amiably into the night. Shortly afterwards, the leading candidate arrived. He clearly wasn’t in the mood for conversation, so they had a drink and then Parmak left him to do the washing up in peace. Later, in bed, he put his head on Parmak’s chest and sighed. Parmak waited for him to speak.
“I didn’t enjoy that,” he said, eventually.
“I could tell,” said Parmak.
“Could you?” He looked up at him – hopeful and worried, all at the same time.
“Don’t worry,” said Parmak, stroking his hair. “I don’t think anyone else could.”
“Good.” He put his head back down and closed his eyes. Soon enough he was asleep.
6th May 2026