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From: Mandy G <75037.51@CompuServe.COM>
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: DS9 "story": What Price Friendship?
Date: 3 Aug 1995 23:53:29 GMT
Organization: CompuServe, Inc. (1-800-689-0736)
Lines: 228
Message-ID: <3vrnhp$1fa$1@mhafn.production.compuserve.com>

This isn't exactly a story, more of a character study.  When I was 
watching "The Die is Cast" I couldn't help but wonder how much more 
meaningful the scenes on the Romulan warbird would have been if it had 
been Bashir instead of Odo on board.  Frankly, I can't see why Garak 
would have any qualms about torturing Odo at all, but watching him 
weighing his friendship for Bashir versus his desire to return home would 
have been much more interesting.  This "story" is just some of my 
thoughts on the subject.
_________________________________________________________


What Price Friendship?


     Garak watched the human through the shimmering force field of his 
cell.  Tain's instructions were quite clear.  There was little doubt what he 
must do.  Professionally speaking, this would be easy -- the doctor was a 
thin reed of youthful innocence just waiting for a strong hand to break 
him -- and yet. . . . How could he do this thing?  To his only friend 
during an unspeakable time?  But he must.  And  he would.  The only 
outward signs of his unease were a slight tightening of the shoulders and 
a momentary closing of the eyes, invisible to the casual observer, glaring 
beacons of emotion to those in the know.  Julian -- no, the human, he 
corrected himself -- would awaken from the sedative shortly.  Precious 
little time to forestall the inevitable.  


     Soon, now -- too soon.  Ju-. . .the human would regain consciousness 
at any time.  The guard would tell him immediately.  Damn the guard.  
     His quarters were too small.  He felt claustrophobic.  There was no 
room to pace, no room to vent the forces building inside him, no room to 
hide from them.  No release, no escape -- for either of them.  Both were 
trapped by his dreams of home.  Both victims of a desire strong as any 
addict's compulsion.  Both doomed by the same hand - his.
     He snorted sharply, angry with himself.  How morbid, how 
sentimental, how stupid.  This was not a friend.  This was a prisoner, a 
being with information the Cardassian Empire needed, information Tain 
needed.  He realized, again, how much Tain's acceptance meant to him.  
He would do *anything* to rejoin his people, to be allowed to serve them 
once more.  Nothing, *nothing,* would stop him, not friendship, not 
innocence, and certainly not the human confined below.  Nothing.
     The guard called.

                              *  *  *  *  *

     The first thing he saw were the eyes:  big, brown, and completely 
guiless.  The flash of hope on the trusting face at the sight of a familiar 
figure.  The beginnings of a smile. . . .  Garak felt his heart constrict 
within him.
     "Garak. . . ."
     "Doctor," he smiled his professional smile, the one he used in his shop.  
"I do hope your stay has not been uncomfortable?"
     Julian looked confused.  "Garak?  What's going on here?"  Distressed.  
"I don't understand."
     "That's quite all right," Garak told him generously.  "Allow me to 
explain.  Do you know where we are?"
     Julian's eyes narrowed in suspicion.  "The Romulan ship?"
     "Very good!"  His tone was mocking, the presence of the Romulan 
guard making Bashir's guess obvious.  "I always said you were an 
extraordinarily bright human, lamentably underappreciated by your 
peers."
     "Garak."  Annoyed, angry.  "Tell me what's going on.  Now."
     Garak beamed at him.  "Why certainly, Doctor.  I wouldn't dream of 
keeping you in suspense any longer," he paused, remembering Tain's 
words to him -- 'perhaps I should have the Romulans conduct the 
interrogation' -- and continued.  "This is indeed the Romulan ship, and as 
you can see, my status here is somewhat different from yours.  Do you 
remember what I told you of Enabran Tain?"
     The name surprised Julian.  "Your superior, or mentor, or something, 
wasn't he?"
     "Or something, yes."  Garak smiled, letting some of his genuine 
enthusiasm show through.  "He's here, on this ship, and he's offered to 
take me back."  The Cardassian's eyes shone.  "I can go home. . . ."  
Recollecting himself, he elaborated.  "But given the history between us, it 
is regrettably necessary for me to prove myself to him, and you, my dear 
doctor, are the means by which I intend to do so."
     Julian stepped back, startled.  "Me?  What can I do?"
     "You can tell me about the Founders."  
     His statement was met with simple confusion.  Innocent still.  How 
quaint.
     "You can tell me how to recognize them, how to scan for them when 
they're trying to hide from us.  You can help us kill them."
     Garak couldn't keep the smile from broadening on his face.  This was 
really quite amusing.  Now he was staring at a picture of shocked 
innocence.  This human still didn't get it.  Ah well, what did he expect?  
Cardassian perceptiveness?
     "You can't be serious.  I don't even know Odo's basic physiology, 
much less that of his people.  And you can't really expect me to help you 
kill any sentient being."  Bashir drew himself up.  "I'm a doctor."
     No.  Now you are a victim, and my prisoner.  Garak nodded, the 
decision made for him, by circumstance, by Julian's unsurprising 
resistance, and by the forces of his Cardassian soul.

                            *  *  *  *  *

     "Well?"
     Garak stood stiffly, not meeting Tain's eyes, trying to keep the mixed 
emotions of his heart from showing on his face.  "As we expected, he 
claims ignorance.  He insists that not only does he not have the expertise 
we require, but that he would refuse to use it even if he did."
     "I see."  Tain watched his former aide closely.  "You know what to 
do."
     Yes, he knew what to do.  "I will begin immediately."

                            *  *  *  *  *

     "Well, Doctor, so sorry to keep you waiting."
     The human's head snapped up with his friend's return.
     "Oh, that's quite all right, Garak.  I'm not going anywhere."
     What's this?  A sense of humor?  How brave.  Surely he knew what 
Garak intended.  Surely he could guess, at least a little, what was in store 
for him.
     Garak paused before releasing the force field, studying his subject.  
Bashir had been in there the better part of a day and Garak knew for a 
fact no one had given him anything.  He must be hungry.  He noted an 
involuntary swallow, a licking of lips.  Thirsty, too.  Good.  It always 
helps to have the subject's biology working against him.  He would have 
to insure there was no sleep for this one tonight.  Ruthlessly, he squashed 
the momentary stab of pity buried deep in his chest.  Perhaps they could 
stay up together, he thought with amusement.  It didn't look like he 
would be sleeping well, either.
     "Doctor, I really do think you should reconsider.  This experience isn't 
going to be pleasant for either of us.  Why put yourself through it?"
     Bashir stood, angry.  "Dammit, Garak, *I'm* not putting me through 
anything.  You are!  Or you're going to, all because I won't tell you 
something I don't even know."  His gaze dropped, his voice sinking.  "I 
thought you were my friend."  Looking up he added, desperately, "Please 
don't do this to me."
     It took every ounce of commitment Garak had to answer that plea, 
every hope and dream pushing the words out of his mouth.  "I'm sorry, 
Julian.  But I have no choice, no choice at all."
     He released the force field and went inside.

                              *  *  *  *  *

     Dully:  "I don't know."
     Relentless:  "What type of scan parameters are most effective?"
     Repeated:  "I don't know."
     Garak sighed.  They'd been at this for hours and it was going 
nowhere.  He'd tried to help this stubborn human.  Tried to simply wear 
him down.  Tried to grill the answers from him rather than take the other 
options open to him, but it wasn't working.  The only words Bashir's 
mind seemed capable of forming were "I don't know" and it was 
beginning to get on his nerves.  Fine, if that's the way he wanted it, Garak 
would be only too happy to oblige.  He turned to the guard waiting 
outside the cell.
     "Bring me the implant."
     Julian's head came up at that and he looked questioningly into his 
friend's eyes.
     "Implant?  Garak, what are you going to do?"  Uncertainty.  The 
beginnings of fear.
     Garak let his annoyance show, hoping to intimidate the young man  
into cooperation.  "It seems to me, Doctor," he started crossly, "that I fail 
to command your full attention.  I think a little - stimulation - might focus 
your thoughts more readily in my direction."  He gazed into Julian's eyes 
meaningfully.  "I don't think I need to tell you I don't want to hear 'I 
don't know' ever again."
     He watched Bashir pale, swallow nervously.  The human glanced 
away, then back, frightened.  He began to fidget in an already 
uncomfortable Cardassian seat.  Good, this was working.  The guard 
returned, accompanied by two of his fellows.  At Garak's nod, they 
dropped the force field and entered the cell, quickly approaching the 
doctor and trying to pin him in the chair.
     Too quick for them, Julian was on his feet backing up rapidly and 
scanning the room for a means of escape.  Naturally, there was none.  
Two of the guards simply strode up to him and took hold of his arms, 
wrenching them behind his back, forcing him to straighten painfully.  The 
third held an odd-looking instrument and a knife.  Julian couldn't take his 
eyes off the sharp blade.
     The Romulan brought the tip to the uniform of Julian's right shoulder 
and used it to cut a large hole in the fabric, exposing the pale skin 
beneath.  Without preamble, he placed the bizarre instrument against the 
muscle below the collar bone and activated it.  Julian twisted in pain, held 
tightly by the guards, as the implant sunk deep into the tissue of his chest.
     As quickly as they had assaulted him, they withdrew, leaving him 
standing at the back of the cell, shaking.  The guard with the insertion 
instument handed Garak a small box on his way out.
     "There," he said soothingly.  "That wasn't so bad, now was it?"
      In actuality, Garak had been entranced.  The muted violence, the 
near-panic on his friend's face, the bulging eyes and hiss of pain as the 
instrument had done its work, all served to excite him in an old, familiar 
way.  Oh yes, now he remembered why he'd been the best interrogator in 
the Order.  Why he had commanded respect in a difficult field.  It was the 
process, not the information, that he loved, the almost orgasmic feeling he 
got when dominating another.  Even better that it should be his beautiful 
Julian.  For the first time, he found himself hoping the doctor wouldn't 
give in, or really didn't know the required information.  His eyes glittered 
preditorily.
     Bashir was standing by the far wall, eyes fixed in horror on his 
tormentor.  Garak could see the dawning of understanding wash across 
his face and laughed, a loud, ugly sound which made Julian flinch.  He 
thought the doctor was trying to phase through the wall as he got up and 
approached him.
     "You enjoyed that," Julian whispered faintly, terror warring with 
disgust on his handsome features.
     Garak's eyes widened and he smiled savagely, leaning close to the 
frightened face and savoring the sound of shattered innocence.  
     "Oh yes, Doctor.  Considerably.  You're going to be *much* more 
entertaining than I'd have thought possible."  He listened tolerantly as 
Julian made a last ditch effort to appeal to their friendship.
     "Garak, please.  It doesn't have to be this way.  You don't have to 
hurt me.  You're better than this.  Surely this isn't how Cardassians treat 
their friends?"
     Garak's deafening laughter withered Julian on the spot.
     "Friends?"  he barked.  "Is that what you think we are?  My dear 
doctor, you're a human and I'm a Cardassian.  You are my prisoner and 
you have information I want.  Does that make us friends?"  Garak's tone 
was glacial.  "How could I possibly consider friendship with a human 
given the presence of my own kind?  Why would I want to?"  He smiled 
with satisfaction at the sudden brightness in the young man's eyes, the 
rapid blinking as he tried to control it.
     "No," Julian answered quietly, the lump in his throat making speech 
difficult.  "I suppose that would be unreasonable."
     Breaking away, his point made, Garak returned to his seat.  Having 
stripped away the last of his subject's emotional support, this should be 
much easier.  A pity, really, in a way.  Resistance was quite stimulating.
     "Come here, Doctor.  Sit down."
     Reluctantly, Julian complied.
     "Now," Garak began seriously, toying with the box the departing 
guard had given him, "tell me about Changelings."


********************************************************
Ok, ok, I know Garak isn't that sadistic, he certainly wasn't to Odo, but 
judging from the dialog in the episode, he used to be. . . .

Mandy Gordon
75037.51@compuserve.com