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Fortunate Son
Starbase 375, 2372
From the observation deck on Starbase 375, Sisko watched the Defiant leave with a soft pang of loss. His very own tough little ship, heading off without him. Nothing to be done. There was a war on, and Sisko would do whatever was needed to win. Even take a desk job.
“Just the two of us now, captain.”
Sisko turned to see Garak, standing a few feet away, a mug clasped in his hand. Some way distant, discreet but present, was a particularly hatchet-faced Vulcan lieutenant, keeping close watch. Sensible. Garak was endlessly inventive. Unpredictable. You never quite knew what he’d do next.
“Looks that way,” said Sisko.
“It’s nice to have company up here for once.”
“Company?”
Garak raised his mug, half-covering a smile. “I’ve come up here to see you off every time you’ve left without me.”
A sentimental streak? Sisko would never have guessed. “Huh.” There was a familiar scent coming from the mug. Was that camomile? Surely not… “Enjoying your stay?”
Garak, who had been staring out into the dark, started. “Excuse me?”
“Are you enjoying your stay here on Starbase 375?” Sounded ridiculous, said again. This place was hardly Risa.
Garak gave him a look that most likely meant, Are you out of your mind? Fair enough. He said, “What’s not to enjoy? Free bed and board. Scintillating conversation. A chance to catch up on my reading. It’s proving quite the holiday.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re thriving.”
“Lieutenant Tunok,” Garak raised his mug at his handler, cheers… “takes his responsibility to look after me very seriously. I can’t blink without him worrying.”
“Good,” said Sisko. “Is that camomile tea?”
“It is, yes.”
“You drink camomile tea?”
“Not ordinarily, no. And not to sound ungrateful for Starfleet’s generous hospitality, but whatever it is the replicators supply when asked for red leaf, I wouldn’t use to clean the floor.”
Sisko smiled, nodded, and made to move away. He should get back to his office. Back to his desk. Back to winning the war…
“Before you go, captain, I have a favour to ask.”
“A favour?”
“Yes. When you do finally decide to take back the station, I’d like to come along.”
“Take back—?” Where the hell had he got that? Sisko hadn’t even discussed the idea with Bill Ross… Lowering his voice, he said, “Have you been poking around where you shouldn’t?”
“Captain, please, let’s not insult each other. You and I both know morale is plunging. You need a fast and meaningful success, one that will rouse the sagging Starfleet spirit. What else are you going to do? Liberate Cardassia?”
“Well, you keep that to yourself—”
“I am the very soul of discretion. But I still want to come.”
“Missing the shop, huh?”
Garak gave a mirthless smile. “I wouldn’t go that far. But I’m certainly ready for a change of scenery.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you,” said Garak, polite but dry. Sisko made another bid to get away, but it seemed Garak still wasn’t finished with him. Didn’t he realise Sisko had a war to win? “Those two men who came to see me,” said Garak. “I was grateful for your intervention.”
“You’re welcome. I guess.”
“Who were they, captain?”
That, thought Sisko, was a very good question, and one a small part of his overtaxed brain had been worrying at ever since he’d sent them packing. “You know, I wasn’t sure.”
Garak looked down into his mug, nodding as if some suspicion had been confirmed. “Yes, I thought so. In which case, to answer to your question, let’s say that if it’s a choice between the shop and whatever those gentlemen were offering, I’ll pick the shop every time.”
Sisko faced him straight on. Garak was on the paranoid side, true, but sometimes he turned out to have good reason. Hadn’t his own father sent someone to kill him? But that was how they did things, in the Obsidian Order. How they’d done things. “What exactly do you think they planned to do? They were Starfleet officers—”
Garak laughed. Straight up laughed, in Sisko’s face. And this man wanted a favour? “Oh, captain, really? This late in the game?”
“Whatever’s going through your head, Garak, it’s a product of your own imagination.”
“You don’t think they’d lock me up?”
“Lock you up?”
“You locked me up—“
“I had damn good reason!” And he’d let the man get away with murder. Attempted murder. Worse.
“Yes, captain, but the difference is – they’d throw away the key.”
“What?” Sisko gave a short, sharp, dismissive laugh. “That wouldn’t happen—”
“No?”
“Garak, we have this little thing called due process—”
“I know what that is, captain. And it’s not for people like me.”
Sisko stopped in his tracks. He looked at Garak – looked at him properly – and the thought flickered through his head, Is this what desperation looks like? For a brief moment, he imagined himself in Garak’s position. Stuck on an alien base, what passed for his friends light years away, in the hands of an enemy power. He couldn’t even get a decent cup of tea.
Garak seemed to have registered something happening on Sisko’s face. He smiled, slowly. “I’d simply disappear into some nameless facility, never to be seen again…”
It was long past time, Sisko thought, to get a grip on this conversation. “Garak, I don’t know how the Order went about its business in the good old days, but that kind of thing doesn’t happen here—”
“No? In which case, why didn’t you simply let them take me? One less complication. One less thing to worry about. I would have thought they were the ideal solution to a persistent problem. And yet you sent them packing. I wonder why.”
Sisko didn’t reply.
“You don’t have to answer that, captain.”
Damn right he didn’t have to answer… Or couldn’t. Whichever the hell it was.
“You don’t owe me answers. You don’t owe me anything at all.” Garak sighed and stretched. “If you really want to know what I’d do with me, I’d probably trade me.”
“Trade you?”
“Dukat would swap a good few high-ranking prisoners to get his hands on me. So would Weyoun, for that matter.” His lips twitched. “I really shouldn’t be putting these ideas in your head—”
“Nobody’s trading you, Garak. Nobody’s locking you up. And nobody’s gonna make you disappear.”
“Because that’s not the kind of thing done by a Starfleet officer?”
“No,” said Sisko, firmly. “It’s not.”
“I think you’d be surprised,” said Garak, “at what a Starfleet officer might do.”
“And I think you’re projecting.”
Garak gave him a look that seemed to be saying, Don’t you know there’s a war on? “When we do get back,” he said, “feel free to drop by the shop. Get yourself a new suit.”
And there it was, that swerve into unpredictability. You just never knew what he was going to throw at you next. “Seriously? You’re seriously standing there, right now, trying to sell me a new suit?” Trying to sell me something… “Garak, you are out of your mind!”
“Captain!” Garak looked wounded. “I thought you liked the suits I’ve made for you! I’d be sorry to think you didn’t.”
“I like the suits just fine. They’re great suits. You’re a great tailor—”
“Yes I am. Anyway, I was grateful for your intervention. Very grateful. So, like I say – drop by any time. Whatever you want, whenever you want.”
Hell, no. “I’m sure I won’t need to.”
Garak drained the rest of his tea, looked down into the mug, and sighed. Turning to go, he waved at Tunok, who took a step towards him. “And I’m sure you’ll find a use for me,” said Garak. “People generally do.”
9th June 2026