Note: Man oh man are we finally coming up to some of the storylines I wanted to adapt from the original series to this crazy world. I do want to let everyone know that while certain events are pretty much in the same order, in instances the times between them from where they occur int he show may be sped up or slowed down since this is an alternate reality/timeline. I still want to keep it consistent but certain parallels just fit better in some areas. That being said, a bit more Julian mystery and some other characters to appear and reappear shortly. Again thank you everyone who's still along for this crazy ride. C&C is always welcome.
"This is the high speed courier you were speaking of?" Garak stares at the small gray and white bird with the green head. It stares back at him seeming to be equally unimpressed. Julian strokes its head gently with his index finger, and it is then that Garak takes proper stock of the very small satchel on its back.
"This is Kukalaka," Julian informs him looking completely serious as he continues to stroke the feathers tenderly. He still appears a bit pale but all in all, Garak is impressed with his quick recovery. Of course, Garak had speculated once before on Julian's ability to quickly metabolize certain poisons and it appears that faith was not unfounded. As Julian explained later however, that was not entirely due to his enhancements but rather a lengthy and painful process of forced immunity built up over time. Garak had, of course, inquired as to whether such training was standard for physicians onworld. Julian's grin was a dead giveaway for the lie as he informed him that it was in fact a practical exam administered for those at the university in Central specializing in frontier medicine. Garak really shouldn't have found that blatant deception as arousing as he did.
But regardless, it cemented the decision that had started out as nothing but a small seedling in the back of Garak's brain, growing larger, until it last it had bloomed into a full flower, bright petals bloomed brilliantly. Garak needed him, badly. Not so much in the base, though that would certainly be a benefit, he was certain, but he could make use of that body, of those skills, of those enhancements, for what he had determined at last to be the objective of his mission here. You need to secure that shipment. You need to see for yourself if that Kironide will have the same effects on Cardassians as it has for the humans and the Ferengi. Perhaps it can be used, perhaps you may be forced to destroy it, but it certainly doesn't need to belong in the hands of the Federation. You have two keys, according to the Ferengi, Watters and his woman have five, and the woman Collins has four. Nog told you that his other co conspirator did not truly have the keys; that was the ruse. But now it's all fallen together, thanks to the lovely doctor and all you've left to do is cement that trust, that bond, and see where it takes you.
With a smile that he cannot be sure is not entirely patronizing, Garak takes another look at the small bird, who has since decided that he's far less worth of note than the fawning hand. Garak feels a slight irrational irritation at that as he scribbles the "order" on the small piece of paper on the window sill. "To the Guildmaster at Southern Mekar, requesting 3 bolts of Indigo weave at your earliest convenience. Payment upon arrival." He folds the missive carefully, Julian politely making a show of averting his eyes leaving no doubt that he read every word.
"The Indigo sunsearcher is a plant native to Southern Mekar, and highly prized for its color," Garak explains just as Julian protests that he wasn't reading a word. Of course you weren't, my dear, but you did in fact read every word of it and I counted on that in writing it. Which is exactly why he left the true message for Pythas as a series of discreet flourishes at the end of certain letters instead. His ancient Hebetian has never been perfect, but he's found the study useful when the need arises to dance around those he suspects to be fluent in his own written Carassian.
Missive folded, he carefully inserts it into the pouch giving Julian a question look.
"And now all that is left is for this... Kukalaka to sail heavenwards to the LaGrange point and contact the Westworld Communications hub from there? Should he not perhaps be clad in some sort of protective clothing?" It's a stupid question and Julian appropriately snorts in response. It a question he deserves after his lack of explanation leading up here and Garak doesn't feel the least bit sorry about it.
"Ha," Julian answers giving one last pat before untethering a leg, watching as the bird takes off to the sky. "He's a carrier pigeon who flies the route to Central. These other two," Julian motions to two birds further down contentedly perched, "fly Chapparal and Rush Valley by way of Largo. They only know one route back and forth, but you won't find faster flyers. Your message should reach Central by this evening and once they send it up the wire..." he makes a vague gesture as if Garak might question the exact science of the "wire" and Garak merely shakes his head.
"Then it should reach my... seller in the usual transmission time once it's... wired?"
Julian nods wiping his hands off on his pants. "From here it's anywhere from a half day to 2 days' time. They have to run the wire based on the EMP fluctuations. One misstep and they've got to rebuild the entire thing. Not an exact science since there's no predicting the spikes but it's safest after one hits. They're fairly regular though. Julian looks at a black chalkboard with a few strange scribbles. "Looks like the last was yesterday morning so you might be in luck." He scratches his chin thoughtfully. "S'pose it couldn't have hurt to throw in a few gems. Well..." he looks at Garak with a small smile. "It's only fabric, right, Garak?" He turns back towards the narrow staircase of the post office starting down leaving Garak's expression tight at his back as he follows.
"Such flippancy towards the ever changing world of fashion, my dear, is the reason you'd never make it in such a cutthroat business that is the tailor. Why, it was only this morning I received the latest magazine from Central showing the trend in late autumn blues exploding all around."
"And that's why you're so eager to get to this next... business meeting?" Julian asks as they walk out into the high sun. Garak absently adjusts the suspenders over his shoulders deciding that he might need to make a few modifications for those with more prominent trapezius.
"One cannot sleep on gaining any possible edge over the competition," Garak answers breezily as the two of them walk down the street headed north. "I'm only thankful that none of our... explorations the other night necessitated the need for repairs to the shop. I'm afraid I haven't turned enough of a profit yet to allow for any structural repairs."
"Excepting for Odo's demand that you cover that "glowing monstrosity" before it causes any more trouble." Garak shrugs, keeping discreet watch to the windows.
"One horse through one set of replaceable doors hardly warranted such a stern reaction, but Mr. Nog assured me that the mechanism to raise that blade back should be completed by tomorrow morning."
And by tomorrow morning it won't be necessary for my plans to have that glare when the sun moves into the proper position. Just a few more minutes but that should be enough to deter the sniper I'm sure that will be waiting. Watters and Farris had agreed to this meeting far too readily for his comfort, after all, and despite Nog's belief that there were only the two of them, Garak didn't think for a second they wouldn't have contracted someone on world to assist in their acquisition. He'd always respected that about Section 31. They were refreshingly pragmatic about the necessities of the end game and that made them far easier to deal with.
"But now this, my dear, is a business venture I cannot possibly pass up, for who knows what possible garments one might fashion out of this... Kironide." He dares a discreet glance to Julian, seeing that expression slip far more serious.
"But of course, if it's not something you had a... professional use for..."
Yes, there was that agreement with Nog, the only reason that this was going as planned, was his word that his sole intent was to destroy the stuff on behalf of the Cardassian Union, lest the Federation get their hands on it. Now as for getting those two to give up their keys or come with him to open the box... Well now, that might require a bit more finesse but you have that hunch, Elim, don't you? You know you're going to this meeting with little chance of an accord but there is that instinct that tells you that Julian is the key. That Julian will pull this together if only you let him. If you test him and see just what he can bring to the table. This may very well be the best tool you've acquired. You can tell he's dropped suspicion of your intent to kill him. He's saved your life at some risk to his own, now if you can turn that even further to your advantage, if you can play him, secure his loyalty...
"That's why you're here, isn't it, Julian? To keep me honest?" Julian had, in fact, offered no reason for accompanying him which was curious in and of itself.
"I don't think there's a force that exists in the universe that could keep you honest," Julian teases as he walks along side him. "Perhaps I just enjoy watching you work."
"I'm afraid you'll be terribly bored, my dear. Haggling over prices can be trying for those without a Ferengi's business acumen. You might be better served waiting out of this heat with an iced tea at Rom's." He mentally smirks at Julian's visible shudder.
"No self respecting Englishman would ever drink such an abomination."
"My apologies. A lemonade perhaps?"
"Not on your life, Garak." Garak watches as he slips on a pair of dark sunglasses one handed with a rather dramatic flair. Julian's eyes are now carefully hidden behind those dark lenses, a pity, Garak thinks.
Garak wears a smile, shoulders back as he sees the young officers standing there looking far too relaxed for what he's seen of them already. Yes, definitely a sniper then. He's thankful that he got Nog to agree to remain dead for the time being lest he become caught in the possible crossfire. Nog could rise from the dead upon the beginning of their trip when he'll need allies to keep from being murdered in his sleep from the pretty pair standing in front of him.
"Mister Garak." Karin Farris steps forward cooly. He's thankful that she's abandoned the uncomfortable clothes. She wears the blouse tucked into the tan khakis far more naturally. "It is only because the Federation does not believe in unnecessary force and barbarism that we're even agreeing to this ridiculous farce." She barely spares a glance for Julian at his left.
"And I assure you... Commander, that we mere Cardassians are thankful that the Federation has a history of exercising such commendable restraint." Watters, Garak notes seems content to stay back and let Farris speak for him. Farris directs a sneer towards Julian.
"Surely you don't expect me to believe he is a Cardassian."
"Cardassian in training," Garak answers imagining a roll of Julian's eyes as he does so. "It's an extensive education program but you have my word that his marks are quite impressive." She looks about to spout off another snappy answer when Watters deigns to take the lead, his height drawn up to be imposing. Garak doesn't have the heart to tell him that the cut of his shirt is traditionally a female one. He wonders if the merchant who sold it might not have wanted a laugh at the man's expense.
"Commander," Watters says, a charming smirk in his face as he looks down his nose. "You know a Cardassian will stand here and talk about absolute nothing until the sun sets."
"Nothing?" Garak says aghast. "Why, we're talking about the continuing education of an impressionable young man-"
"Oh please," Julian murmurs, another imagined eye roll.
"We want the keys, Cardassian," Watters declares wasting no words. "Whatever games you're playing they end here. I won't appeal to your greater conscience. I know you don't have one. We're on this mission to end a war before it even begins. An enemy that threatens your Cardassia as well. Trust me, that history will judge one dead lizard a small price to pay for the safety of the entire universe." Garak listens patiently, more distracted by the buttons being on the opposite side of the shirt, letting Watters' grandstanding pass over him. He only need delay a few more moments before the sun will be in place and already he can tell there is something about Julian's demeanor beside him that's not as one would expect.
No, there should be that heated interruption, that "You cannot take a man's life!" and whatever other moralizing that ought to be passionately thrown out. But there is a tension that you can feel. There's an anger there which belies any complicit intent on his part. He's on your side in which case he's thinking, he's planning, just as you are and surely he does not know that your plan hinges entirely on a suspicion that may be nothing more than the mid life delusions of grandeur of a... Yes Elim, of a clearly genetically enhanced nobody. There's no such thing and you know it. Augment hunters don't spend half a lifetime targeting the failures. No, there is far more to him than that and you just need to let it come to the forefront.
Garak smiles, letting Watters finish, half expecting him to hold out his hand like a petulant child.
"Ah, of course, this is where I surrender the keys to the noble Federation and repent for my evil and selfish ways. But of course, who's to say that only the Federation should be left as the keeper of the Alpha Quadrant. Who's to say that we Cardassians might not be an equally effective caretaker for such a monumental task as the security of the universe. The Federation values cooperation, does it not?"
"This is not a negotiation, Cardassian!" Farris interjects hotly, "and even if it were you aren't in any position to make demands of us!"
"Naturally I cannot profess to speak for those in authority, being but a humble tailor, however I did have chance to mend the trousers of a rather prominent government figure on occasion, and I can assure you that those in power are always amenable to diplomatic discussions."
Garak almost expects a weapon to be drawn, but he sees none and knows now that it's down to the wire. They don't know that this spot is about to go blind and he's not going to have much time to react.
"Enough games," Watters says as Garak ticks down the time in his head. "Did you bring the keys or not?" Garak sees the sliver of rainbowed light appear, moving slowly across the ground just as he reaches into his pocket to show the keys.
"And now that I've shown you mine," he offers, waiting to see who, if not both is in possession of the remaining five. Watters smirks, cocky, confident as he too holds up keys; three of them. Farris follows suit, and Garak wonders if the light will be blinding enough to grab them all in the confusion. It won't blind him, however. He can sense the separate heat signatures outside of his vision and he lets that be his focus as Watters speaks, making a quick gesture with the raise of his hand.
"Get a good look at them, Cardassian. And then you can-"
That sentence is cut off as the light hits them, bright, blinding, more at Garak's back but still enough for the time that it lasts to be a public nuisance as Odo declared and to light and reflect off of the metal accents of the buildings around them in a blinding web of refraction. Garak supposes that phenomenon spared him whatever cliche that was to follow as he quickly moves from his previous spot, hearing a shot but not seeing where it lands. What matters is that it didn't hit him. He intends of course in that instant to follow through with that learned sleight of hand. Poor though it may be in comparison to Jadzia and Julian, he would label it sufficient for his purpose. But what he sees in that moment when he gives into that impulse to let his eyes separate, watching the two and the rest of the town both, is a reward that will be well worth the duration of his incapacitation.
Julian has removed the sunglasses as the residents of Indigo have all likely taken ocular cover for the next few moments and he's walked over to Watters with a steely determination that's far removed from the stammering doctor that he met the first day. Garak sees him lean, sees him whisper soft- too Gul's damned soft to hear- briefly, or perhaps just that quickly Garak cannot be sure. But whatever it is that he says in those moments, Garak watches as Watters shoves the keys back, making another motion in a much more obvious direction. And at that moment he isn't sure whether he ought to be more surprised by the words that Julian whispered, or the fact that his left eye catches sight of the Bajoran Kira Nerys standing on the roof of Quark's Necessities angrily shouldering a large rifle. No, as the light passes, Julian once more throwing those sunglasses back on with an almost nervous look straight at him, Garak decides that Julian is most definitely the mystery that warrants his immediate attention.
"We will accompany you to the cargo, Cardassian," Watters informs him stiffly as Julian hurries past him with a brushing of their shoulders. "But once we're there, don't count on him to save you." Garak lets that eye trail Julian's retreating form appreciatively, letting the two officers stare uncomfortably at the right still fixed in them. The smile hasn't left his face the entire time.
"I wouldn't dream of it."