Path: news.inforamp.net!news2.toronto.istar.net!news3.ottawa.istar.net!istar.net!newsjunkie.ans.net!newsfeeds.ans.net!howland.reston.ans.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.wwa.com!buffnet2.buffnet.net!usenet From: Lynda Simhomer Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: "Garak's Friend: the Sequel" (2/6) Date: 2 May 1996 03:52:00 GMT Organization: BuffNET Lines: 365 Message-ID: <4m9bh0$7g6@buffnet2.buffnet.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: fppp26.buffnet.net Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Mailer: Mozilla 1.22 (Windows; I; 32bit) Status: N "Garak's Friend: the Sequel" by simhomer@buffnet.net (Lynda Simhomer) Part Two: Malada restlessly paced the length of the detention cell. She ran her hands through thick, black hair and cursed under her breath. Odo entered and she immediately addressed him. "How's Garak?" "I'd say he's lucky you didn't puncture any major organs." *Luck had nothing to do with it,* she thought. Then she asked, "When can I see him?" "Why did you attack him?" "Why don't you ask him?" "I did and he said he didn't have the faintest idea." Odo folded his arms across his chest. "I take it the two of you are acquainted. I don't suppose you'd mind telling *me* who you are." She resumed pacing. "Run a DNA match with the Cardassian Bureau of Identification and see what you come up with. In the meantime, I'm bored. Ask Garak if he has anything to read." "I'll relay the message," he replied sardonically. The woman stopped and met Odo's glare with her own. "In due time, I'll tell you whatever you need to know, Changeling. But for now, I'll only speak to Garak. It's safer that way." "Safer?" "For now." * * * * * * *Thirty-five hundred cases of bioplasmic gel, fifty thousand units of...* Dr. Bashir rubbed his eyes. He was having trouble concentrating. Granted, a shipment manifest wasn't the most interesting form of reading, but he hadn't been able to focus on much of anything of late. *Except, of course, for Jadzia and...* With purposeful deliberation, he returned his attention to the PADD. *Two hundred hyposprays, six thousand...* Finally, he gave up and tossed the PADD aside. Maybe he should call it a night. He glanced again at the pile of work on his desk. No. He needed to get something done first. At random, he chose another PADD. It was the unfinished report on Garak. He scanned what he had written earlier. *Well, it carries more potential than the cargo listing.* Naturally, he couldn't help wondering what had motivated the attack, but it was impossible to ascertain anything when it came to Garak. Maybe the woman had a grudge against him. A family vendetta, perhaps? That would provide an interesting twist to the obscure tailor. For all he knew, the woman could be a sister or a cousin... or even a former lover. *If that's the case, she certainly has an odd way of rekindling romantic flames.* On the other hand, maybe Garak had jilted her and she was simply retaliating. He could most assuredly relate to that. There were times when... *Don't even think about it, Julian. You know you could never harm Jadzia... or Worf.* A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Julian?" With a trace of guilt in his face, he looked at the caller. It was Leeta. "Yes?" The Bajoran's gaze fell on the stack of PADDs and she asked, "Am I disturbing you?" "No, not really. I can't concentrate anyway. What can I do for you?" Leeta settled herself on the edge of his desk. "Are you all right?" *No more bleeding,* he reminded himself. *Be strong.* "Yes," he lied. "I'm fine." "No, you're not." Leeta removed the report from his hand and placed it on the desk. "And I understand what you're going through, believe me." A sad smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "I've been through it myself." "Thanks." She rose and caught his hand. "Come one, Julian; let's take a walk together. You'll feel much better if you talk about it." * * * * * * Malada opened her eyes; she must have fallen asleep. She sat up at once and swung her legs over the side of the bunk. She paused. Garak was gazing at her through the containment field. "It's about time," she said, quickly collecting herself. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting? I was beginning to wonder if you were going to acknowledge me at all." "Well you didn't give me much of a choice." She stretched in a show of leisure. "How long have you been standing there?" "Not long." "You should have woke me; we have a lot to talk about." "I suppose we do." Malada noticed a PADD on the floor. Without rising, she retrieved it and switched it on. "_Neverending Sacrifice_? Just how long to do you expect me to be in here?" "That depends on what you're after." She smiled flirtatiously. "I'm after you, of course. DS9's most tantalizing fare." "I'm flattered." The smile faded. "No doubt." Malada set the book down and rose to her feet. "I've gone to a lot of trouble for you, Elim, and you haven't even bothered to comment on the change." She whirled demonstratively. "What do you think?" "Ravishingly becoming, but you really shouldn't have. Besides, it's rather obvious for an intelligence agent." "Is it? I like it." "Who are you hiding from, Malada? The True Way?" She displayed an indifferent shrug. "In a manner of speaking. They certainly aren't too pleased with me." "I'm not surprised." Malada's eyes narrowed. "Gloating over something, Elim? Or are you still smarting?" "I beg your pardon?" "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You were taken off-guard." "Well, it's not as if I'm accustomed to being stabbed--" "That isn't what I meant and you know it," she grimaced. "I warned you that you were slipping, but you still allowed yourself to be distracted by Admiral McQueen." Garak scowled at her. "As I recall, I was distracted by someone other than the admiral." "Which proves my point. My diverting tactics were blatant. I can't believe you were duped so easily. That is, assuming you wanted to stop the Founders from destroying the Vor'cha cruiser." He gave her a noncommittal look and switched the topic. "So, the Dominion is using the True Way as camouflage." "Not quite, Elim. The Dominion *is* the True Way. Or very nearly. The Founders took a group of ragtag Cardassian malcontents and organized them. The Way's only purpose is to stir up trouble in the Alpha quadrant and divert the attention of the Federation." Garak couldn't be sure if this was factual; but it was plausible, especially if Enabran Tain was involved. "I noticed that the True Way became aggressive only after the defeat of the Obsidian Order." "Yes, the Order did keep them in line, didn't they?" He noted that she deliberately ignored the connection to Tain. "Does the True Way know about this?" "No. They're being utilized to expedite a Dominion takeover, their key leaders are all Changelings, and the idiots still don't have a clue." "Perhaps someone should inform them." "I doubt it would do any good. They're not a particularly rational group. They'd probably consider the Founders allies against a mutual enemy." "The True Way would chose the Dominion over the Federation?" "I told you they aren't rational. And that's precisely why I used them as my cover. I needed to keep up with Dominion activity, yet still maintain some type of distance." "To what end?" She scoffed. "I have *no* desire to see Cardassia controlled by the Dominion. Thus, I've been secretly working to undermine their efforts. Unfortunately, the Founders aren't stupid and they figured out that I was the one who betrayed their agent." "The mannequin?" She nodded. "I was forced to go into hiding. Naturally, the first thing I did was change my appearance. I chose this one because, like you said, it was so obvious. That's also why I've returned. A Cardassian woman on DS9 should be the last thing the Founders will look for." "What a clever cover, Malada! You've outdone yourself in creativity." She pulled a wry face at his sarcasm. "You don't believe me. I expected as much. You've been predictable since the day we met. Too bad. You're blowing a great opportunity for personal satisfaction." "Personal satisfaction?" "Yes. Here I am locked in the brig, and the only one who can get me out is you." * * * * * * "The worst part is I become this seething pool of jealousy every time I think about them." Bashir offered a sideways glance at his companion. Leeta smiled encouragingly. "I know," he said. "I'm being irrational, aren't I? And Garak must think I've *completely* lost my mind." She chuckled softly. "Under these conditions, we all do to some extent. The heart can guide the head or the head can guide the heart; either way they're interrelated." "That's comforting," he replied bitterly. "It just happened so quickly. And it all started the other evening *after* Jadzia's bat'leth lesson. She said that she was exhausted. Then she sent me away and turned in early. The next morning, it was over between us. How could I possibly have seen it coming? I thought she'd worked through all the Worf stuff before we became involved. Apparently, I was wrong." Leeta noticed his fists begin to clench. She took his hand and patted it reassuringly. "Well, as absurd as your reaction may feel to you, you're no different than the rest of us. I'm amazed you haven't been plotting some sort of revenge against Worf." The doctor retained a guilt-ridden silence. *It was those bat'leth lessons,* he thought. *I should have known that Worf was interested in more than Jadzia's fighting technique.* "It's going to be all right, Julian," said Leeta, interrupting his thoughts. "You're dealing with a recent injury. And injuries heal, you know that. Sooner or later, life will return to normal and you'll feel like yourself again." He agreed, but wondered aloud what normal would turn out to be. "I can't tell you what's going to happen, but I'm convinced there's nothing to worry about. And even if they're attracted to each other, neither would do anything to hurt you." Bashir reluctantly conceded. "I suppose you're right. It's just that every time I see them, they're together." "Are you sure you aren't--?" Leeta stopped. Bashir halted too. Directly ahead, Dax and Worf were crossing the corridor by way of an intersecting passage. They seemed to be sharing a private joke and neither noticed Leeta and Bashir. The doctor's face grew dismally somber. "That corridor leads to Jadzia's quarters." "It goes to a lot of places, Julian." Leeta put a comforting arm around him. "Come on, let's head back." * * * * * * Garak picked up the neatly folded wool and resumed his previous task. He was making undergarments for Morn - a mindless endeavor, to say the least. He decided to use the time to reflect upon Malada's words. She was right about the Vor'cha Cruiser. It had taken him by surprise. Not that he'd admit it to her. He'd deciphered her clues on the admiral easily enough; but he'd complete missed her veiled warning about the Klingons. Maybe she was right about him losing his edge, after all. As for her assertion of being in hiding, he wasn't sure what to think of it. It was certainly credible, but the thought of Malada on the run and without an agenda was difficult to picture. He knew her too well. She was a cunning schemer, a shameless impostor, and an unscrupulous manipulator. And those were her best attributes. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her penchant for stealth. Anyone on DS9 would easily link his name with that characteristic. But Malada was different. She could be shockingly forthright or annoyingly vague, and she did it all with meticulous deliberation - invariably expecting him to sort through her half-truths to uncover her *real* meaning. She'd mentioned their first encounter. Garak turned Morn's garment over and allowed his mind to return to the event. Malada had been young, certainly no more than twenty. He'd been almost as young; new to the Obsidian Order, but already in enviable standing with Enabran Tain - a position he didn't hold lightly. They'd met at one of Tain's dinner parties; another perk for those held in favorable esteem. Garak had taken little notice of the girl. Beyond the initial curiously of meeting the boss's daughter, he hadn't given her another thought. Malada seemed to be equally disinterested in him. She was seated across the table, chattering amiably with the more senior members of the Order, and thoroughly disregarding him. After dinner, he wandered away from the main group and (somehow) found himself alone in the library - cornered by Malada. Out of politeness, he stayed as she rambled on and on about various topics, never pausing to let him get a word in edgewise. With no relief in sight, he finally forced himself to listen to her. To his shock, it dawned that she was mimicking him. Her eyes glimmered malevolently as she perceived his sudden insight. Then silence filled the library. Garak allowed himself to cool before speaking. "I'm pleased that you find me so amusing." "Don't patronize me," she snapped. "You thought I was ignoring you, but I heard every word you said tonight. For some inexplicable reason, my father is impressed with you. He thinks you have potential. Maybe you do, if you survive." Something in her tone reminded him of his own father. Whatever it was, he didn't like it and he pushed it aside with contemptuous sarcasm. "Oh really? And I imagine you must have an endless measure of sage advice on the subject of survival." "Sage advice?" She mocked. "Sure, I do. Pay attention." At that, she took him completely off-guard by pressing him to the wall and kissing him. "I don't waste my time with idle words, Elim; and you're about to botch the opportunity of your life. If Renarek had listened to me, he wouldn't be the jealous, conniving failure that he is." Garak slipped out of her hold. "Miss Tain, if you're--" She laughed again and started toward the door. "Just try to keep your eyes and ears open. I'll see you around." At the time, he had chosen to dismissed her as some 'Gul's Brat' - someone with no tangible power, but who was accustomed to getting by unchallenged because of her father's position. Two days later, however, his outlook was unexpectedly changed. He discovered that Renarek had brazenly conspired to framed him for a crime against the Order. Garak came very close to losing everything, including his life. The next time he saw Malada, he openly confronted her. "If you were going to trouble yourself about warning me, you could have been more straightforward about it." "Straightforward?" Malada's smirk belittled him. "All right, I'll give you straightforward, you egotistical simpleton. If Renarek had succeeded in eliminating you, it would have been your own fault. You ignored my warning. And do you know why? Because you were conceited enough to believe that I propositioning you. As if *you* were worth my time. I'll give you some 'sage advice', Elim. Kill that absurd ego of yours before it kills y--" A voice brought him back to the present. "Do you have moment, Garak?" He looked up. "Constable Odo. What can I do for you?" Odo came straight to the point. "At the suggestion of our suspect, I checked with the Cardassian Bureau of Identification. And knowing how thorough they are, I was amazed to find that they had no record of her." "Oh." "You don't sound surprised." "I'm not. We both know how untidy bureaucracies can be, Odo; sometimes people fall through the cracks. Would you believe there was a time when they had no record of me?" Odo made a guttural sound. "The Obsidian Order. I thought they had been annihilated by the Jem'Hadar." "They're still a few operatives about, here and there." "Why did this one attack you?" He hesitated for a brief second. "It was a personal matter." "I see." "I've decided not to press charges." Odo's face exhibited his disapproval, but he refrained from saying anything. "Then I'll release her." He turned to go. Garak thought fast. "Odo, wait." If Malada expected him to relish her predicament, who was he to disappoint her? "On the other hand, perhaps you should grant her shelter for the night." Odo turned to face him. "In the brig? Why? Do you feel she poses a further threat to you, Garak?" "I didn't say that. I'm only thinking in terms of station hospitality." Odo shook his head. Garak was impossible; but then, what else was new? "Well, if it's in the interest of station hospitality, then by all means." He started to leave, but stopped again. "Breakfast tomorrow?" Garak readily agreed. "I'm looking forward to it." * * * * * * LtCmdr. Dax strolled into the brig; her hands clasped firmly behind her back. She circled the room, glancing casually into each empty cubical. Malada halted her pacing and hastily set down _Neverending Sacrifice_. Finally satisfied that they were alone, Dax stopped in front of Malada's cell. "Well, well..." The Cardassian fastened her most antagonistic stare on the Trill. "What do you want, Jadzia Dax?" "Is that any way to greet a friend, Malada Tain?" Malada relaxed slightly. "Finally. You've certainly taken your time about coming here." "You're too impatient." "Thank you. It's one of my better qualities." Dax was careful to keep one eye fixed on the door. "Tomorrow morning." "That soon? What if I'm not out by then?" "You'll be out." "If you say so. Where then?" "In the replimat." "Why there?" "Because that's where Garak and Odo will be." Malada consented with a nod. "Fine. Is that it?" "For now." Dax turned to leave, but paused. "I don't have to remind you that we're counting on you." "Have I failed you yet?" "No. You've been invaluable, Malada." "Then trust me. Everything will go *exactly* as planned." (end of Part Two) simhomer@buffnet.net (Lynda Simhomer)