Note: Yes this week there be a double update. I figured it best since one of the chapters has no Garak. Super excited to start this arc since there's way more action and insanity to come. I did pull a bit of inspiration from FFVI's Blackjack as well. Also, Molly appears and I look forward to playing with some other lesser used characters too. Thank you all for reading and supporting this! C&C always welcome.
"Julian..." Garak blinks as he looks out towards the vast expanse of desert, right hand stealing up towards the black unflattering patch covering his right eye. "Tell me I'm imagining that." That, referring the the massive... well really, Garak has no idea what it actually is. It appears to be some oblong object the size of the entire town by his estimation. It is neutrally colored, almost like the dessert backdrop, a hue of faint lavender braced around with what appears to be some slim metal around but he cannot be sure. It looks like some enormous Earth marine animal that he's seen in Jadzia's picture books, the thing seeming large enough to block out the sun itself. His vision is still faintly blurry, but not half as impaired as it had been the first time he unwisely let his eye track independently. Garak blinks again, the rising sun glinting off the metal framing, and he thinks he can make out a small shape beneath it, some combination of wood and metal but he can't be certain. What is certain, however, is the shadow cast over half the desert from its mass.
Next to him, Julian sets down two large duffel bags just in time to swat Garak's hand away. The trunks were already taken ahead; it was the two of them that had to wait until the right time.
"What did I tell you about playing with that?" He sounds exasperated already with the day only just beginning. "The muscles need to relax, and the injection I gave you should help with some of the worse symptoms but if you're not careful then..." Julian scowls at him. "You really don't care, do you?" He shakes his head with a sigh. "Of course not. You're from off world. Bollocks up your eyes, just get new ones, get cybernetics, grow them from your tissues, right, why worry." He picks up the bags again as Garak lowers his hand not quite sheepishly.
"My apologies for my thoughtlessness, Julian, I assure you I hold your expertise in the highest regard. Perhaps it is a failing of those of us from off world as you say to take such things for granted."
The two of them start walking towards the mass Julian appearing slightly mollified.
"That'll be Molly then. When I sent out the message I was lucky to catch her before she left Adrosta. She's our best bet for reaching the West Continent with any speed. At least with seven of us including her piloting."
"Eight," Garak interjects the correction not entirely looking at Julian as he does so.
"What do you mean, eight? There's you, me, Nog, the three Starfleet officers, and Molly herself."
"Ah, you're forgetting Mrs. O'Brien," Garak supplies helpfully, noting that Julian has stopped rather abruptly with that announcement, looking decidedly pale.
"You... you cannot possibly be serious." Of course Garak had not expected the most favorable reception given the nature of their mission, but he could hardly be expected to compromise their cover now, could he? "She is not coming with us, Garak, have you lost your mind?" Julian has dropped his voice although Garak expects with much of Indigo attending the massive monthly spiritual service- some impractical mashup of by his count at least half a dozen different religions offering the draw of a free gluttonous brunch parade- it hardly seems likely that they'll be overheard.
"I could hardly refuse," Garak answers somewhat evasively. He wonders as he looks at the two bags if he might not fill another trunk with a few more necessities for work. Julian still isn't moving with that answer and Garak sighs knowing they won't make much progress unless he offers a better response. "Now I cannot imagine what could possibly have made her so suspicious of the trip," Garak begins picturing the wry expression beneath those dark glasses, "but somehow she has it in her head that our trip isn't exactly on the... what you humans would call the up and up." Garak takes a few steps, hoping that Julian will take the hint and at least continue what looks to be a rather long trek out into the dessert towards that massive flying monstrosity. He is pleased that Julian starts walking again, though he, and his hearing could certainly do without the unnecessary whispering.
"Of course it's a dangerous trip," Julian practically growls at him with an intensity that Garak finds far too exciting for the current scenario. "Which is exactly why she should not be going." Impeccable logic, sound, reasonable, there isn't any arguing with it really. That was the thought in Garak's mind some two days prior as he spoke with Keiko- she insisted on that first name address given their newfound status as traveling companions- and attempted to unsuccessfully convince her that her going along would be terribly boring and possibly as long as a month before returning. It was at that point she informed him cheerfully that her profession as a botanist was being completely wasted in Indigo; O'Brien argument #12, Garak recalled the moment the words left her mouth. And it was in that same breath she sweetly reasoned that a mere exhibition to some caves in order for him and his "buyers" to hash out the negotiations over some raw material for dye couldn't possibly be so inconvenienced by one woman taking a few samples back for study. Especially an exhibition trip which her daughter would be leading, and it was then he realized that nothing short of tying her to the nearest hitching post- and likely not even that- would keep her from coming along.
Yes, because you need yet another civilian in what could more than likely be a violent confrontation once your contacts arrive from Cardassia to inspect the shipment. Of course the intent isn't to kill, but then again death doesn't reserve itself exclusively for those actively courting it. The nature of the exchange will depend entirely on orders from Tain and the usefulness of the Kironide. What is the exact nature of the telekinetic enhancements, the duration, any other side effects. The Ferengi reported nothing more than head pressure, strain, some pain afterwards but was oddly elusive on the nature of the works. It may very well prove toxic in some manner. Whatever Julian said, those two are a willing party for this excursion but then what? He's refused to disclose any information on what he said, choosing to play ignorant. There's no guarantee that he's on your side in this. For all you know you'll be fighting every last one of them to the death while O'Brien's wife picks flowers and stuffs them in a sack none the wiser.
What he hasn't told Julian, of course is the very clear threat of alerting the Gul's damn bounty hunter to his leaving; the reason they had to wait until later int he morning to leave int he first place. They've yet to sort out the legalities with Odo who refuses to either give her carte blanche to exorcise the "dirty spoonhead" who may or may not be Aamin Marritza or definitely confirm that he is an innocent man under the protection of the law. The impasse is galling, to say the least and the affront to his dignity, sneaking out of town like some common criminal is irritating. But Garak is nothing if not adaptable and Kira has been given no hint of their plans, Julian and Leeta both swearing that she's a devout where that monthly sideshow is concerned. Leeta assured him in fact that she spends the better part of these services arguing with Quark over the extraneous charges for water and fees during Ferengi sermons. Yes, she'll be out of the way, and you can deal with one overly suspicious mother of a scientist for a few weeks to avoid another shoot out.
It occurs to Garak during these musings, that as the town begins to shrink and the ship begins to loom large in his view that Julian has been carrying on this entire time about the matter. Garak maintains his expression, finding his depth perception pitifully lacking with one eye covered as he assures Julian that it was unavoidable and perhaps if he is so concerned with Keiko's well being he can appoint himself her knightly benefactor for the duration of the trip.
"No," Julian replies oddly distant. "That won't be necessary. Molly will watch out for her after all, and in spite of my reservations, Keiko is neither a foolish nor cowardly woman." Garak sees a brief tightness of Julian's face, an off turn of his head, imagining that thoughtful blink, seeing him lick his lips. "She'll be fine," he says aloud, and though to most it would seem nothing but an empty reassurance to ones self, it is in fact a very clear and definitive shift in thinking and perception. Ah, a fine, fine, liar you are, my dear.
Garak admires that easy change in truth, letting Julian explain the closer they get down the well worn dirt path, the workings of the ship. Garak is no engineer, and Julian certainly not, but the explanation nonetheless is a fascinating one that makes him wonder how Cardassian flight might have taken root bound by the quirks and challenges of a planet such as Westworld. Of course, our ancestors didn't have a wealth of modern technology and scientific principles and experiments spanning multiple cultures and worlds either to fall back on. No, all these settlers had to do was coordinate the manufacture of certain building blocks to start and experiment with the rest, letting transports dead drop whatever supplies they might need in the interim. Dead dropping being as the name implied, the reckless cargo dumps from shielded containers off planets in orbit; the innumerable ship wreckages dotting the planet's surface a true testament to the madness of early Westworld settlers. Ah, but it's not merely Westworld, Elim. The Maquis are equally thick headed, equally pointlessly, stubbornly clinging to some patch of land they've decided is their home.
But folly or no, there is a certain majesty as the airship Julian said was named "Godokoro" comes into full view. The cabin, dwarfed immensely by the size of the semi rigid balloon, is far larger than he ever would have imagined from Julian's description. Of course to off worlders used to starships built to be cities unto themselves, such a vessel would hardly seem impressive. Garak however, finds an incomparable aesthetic in the ornate, elegant wood, in the brass trim, in the long impractical staircase unfolded like the foyer in some grand parochial manor from whence the lady of the house would descend for a grand gala. Or perhaps again you've been immersing yourself far too heavily in this overdecorated and sentimental Westworld culture. Cloying or not, Garak cannot help but allow his eyes to linger at the scripted brush strokes spelling the word in what he assumes to be some eastern Earth script, the letters black against the polished wood of the hull, glinting with shine as the sun hits just so
There are numerous windows at least some several meters up from the open door and he sees a few anchors thrown into the dirt over the sides. The cabin opens up top, a railing lining a balcony that seems to spring up at the far end where one might stand and observe. He can see the two Starfleet Officers glancing into the distance looking far less harmless as they both peer out from spyglasses. He also notes a few shuttered doors and wonders what purpose they might serve the closer they come. The quiet, Garak thinks, is what is the most impressive of all though. It is unusual to be so close to a vessel without so much as the hum, the sounds of hydraulics, drives, anything that would indicate the life of a ship. He watches the faint bob of the balloon faintly with the wind, the anchors keeping the ship perfectly still on the ground, and he marvels once more at the artistry. He finally has to crane his head to see the top of the ship, the long shadow casting mostly to the side, but still covering him and Julian as they approach. The staircase seems even more massive when Garak sees it up close and he notes the bends, the hinges, imagining the feat it must take to retract it.
Curiously, Julian sets the bags down before they reach the stairs, a wide smile on his face as he does.
"You might want to move aside," he advises as he watches the open door, that grin only getting bigger and Garak obeys wordlessly wondering what on Earth it is that Julian is expecting. His attention vacillates between the door and Julian when he closes his eyes, vision starting to swim from the exertion. It isn't until he hears a loud shriek of "Julian!" that he looks up and catches sight- at least for the brief moment she's there- of a short haired young woman, bright red scarf around her neck in a tan button down blouse and khakis tucked into boots. He only catches that in a blink as she runs wildly, launching herself in the air to Garak's complete surprise. He nearly shouts a warning only it seems Julian is well aware given his preparation but surely even an augment would break something if-
The two of them crash, though Garak is certainly impressed with how Julian absorbs what must be at least 55 kilograms falling back into the dirt hard on top of him. He laughs, Garak watching a grand hug, the young woman pressing a kiss to his cheek before sitting back immediately starting to rummage through his pockets. Julian laughs harder and Garak notes that his sides are especially ticklish.
"M-Molly... p-pants... p-ants..." Her hands are small but are slightly dirty and appear rough, disappearing into both pants pockets before pulling out a wrapped cloth from the left. She sits on his legs, and Garak sees the small bundle unwrapped to reveal several brightly colored sticks that Garak has seen at Quark's in the jars behind the counter. Candy sticks, the red with orange stripes a cinnamon one that he recalls, rather unpleasant, but she jams it in Julian's mouth with a wide smile. Molly, the O'Brien's daughter. the pilot then. And while her demeanor as she takes a bright yellow lemon stick, is one that might not inspire confidence, her hands, and the faint movements of tight, lean muscle are testament enough for him.
Molly stands up, and throws the remaining bundle into a pocket sewn onto the right thigh of the pants as she looks at him curiously.
"You're the Cardassian," she states around the stick, looking him up and down with an assessing look that makes him look to Julian with a faint question as he wonders what Julian might have conveyed in his correspondence. Molly nods, taking the candy stick from her mouth, hands on hips as she smiles at him, big wide, showing a neat row of white teeth. "Good." He can feel a brow ridge wanting to quirk hard as she grabs the bags and whirls quickly, practically skipping up the stairs. "C'mon then!" she calls to them both, Julian just starting to pick himself up off the ground as she does. He bites off a piece of the stick, and opens his mouth just as she follows up with "Everyone else has already unpacked, slow pokes! You're gonna have to stow it til we're airborne!"
She disappears just as quickly, Julian brushing himself off with a shake of his head, stuffing the broken piece in his pocket.
"Well then, not much of an introduction, I suppose, but the trip will be long enough for that." He checks his watch with a click of his tongue that sends a faint shiver up Garak's spine. Julian really has no idea how delightful a sound that is.
"She seems quite fond of you," Garak observes, the line nothing but small talk, his attention already elsewhere. It makes sense, after all, given the small community and Julian's likely friendship with Miles O'Brien. What he doesn't expect though is the faint widening of Julian's eyes, the tightness of his mouth, the quick jerk of his head towards the door before he brushes past, quickly.
"She's like a daughter to me. There's no relation, of course." Of course. Why one would even say such a thing though... Garak files that too away as he follows Julian up the stairs, hand running along the rail, unsure of the exact nature of the material as he finally begins to see inside.
"We'll have to pull the stairs," Julian informs him as he watches Julian turn a corner, his own attention focused on the large room that comes into view. It certainly isn't what he expected for a passenger craft. He'd imagined, of course some seats, some storage, spaces upon entering but what he sees instead is a grand parlor with tables, chairs, furniture resembling a garish manor home rather than a passenger craft. There are sconces lining the walls, the high windows letting light stream in to elegant curtained window boxes and beautifully carved settees with cushions. He sees a few rope rails along the papered walls, a hallway off to the side, paintings, maps, hanging carefully. And then shelves too, massive wooden beasts to the far left full of texts, books, behind netting to hold them in place. It is then he notices that each piece is carefully bolted to the floor, through the rugs that lay over the polished hard wood. He steps inside almost hesitantly as Julian calls to him from the side.
"I got the stairs if you get the rails." Garak turns, seeing a twinkle in Julian's eyes, likely his open mouth gaping amusing as he brings his expression back to something far more neutral. as he sees the large wheel on the wall. Julian is turning it hard, and Garak cannot help but look down and out as the steps begin to flatten and slowly retract into the ship like a ramp, steadily drawing chains sounding beneath the floor. Garak then looks to the opposite side of the door to a smaller crank and he finds the turning clockwise to be surprisingly easy, imagining the segmented rail performing a similar action.
"This is all quite impressive," Garak remarks, continuing to turn until it comes to a stop. Julian nods, that boyish grin quite infectious.
"Oh you haven't even begun to see it, Garak. I'll have to give you the tour after launch. We ought to join everyone out on deck for the launch." He presses in, a small brass panel and the door slides out the side just enough to be slid the rest of the way closed. Garak sees the dark seal around and cannot imagine it is solely for pressurization and decides he might ask for the specifics later.
"You don't get motion sick do you?" Julian asks, that rakish grin just daring him to answer in the affirmative. There's a slight bounce to his expectant step, and Garak shakes his head.
"There is not the motion invented, that I do not relish," Garak answers with a look perhaps far to innocent for the innuendo but Julian catches the intent just the same. His eyes sweep Garak's frame from top to bottom as Molly earlier but this time there is a definitive invitation to that look.
"That look suits you, you know. It makes you look downright devilish," He inclines his head towards the eye patch. "You look a right swashbuckler," he says and Garak is not quite sure what that alludes to but makes a note to ask later.
"Well, I certainly hope that's a good thing." Julian laughs at his obvious polite confusion.
"Oh I assure you it's a marvelous thing to be right now. But come, the anchors will be raised any moment and you get the best view from the front."
Garak follow him down a long hallway, counting three closed doors on the right and left as they approach a wooden door without a window. Outside, the deck is vast, with a few more tables and chairs far more practical, bolted to the floor. He sees the rails are in fact far higher than he'd realized, only coming to waist height when one reaches the top of two twin staircases going to a higher deck.
"The best few is up there, of course," Julian declares, already running ahead leaving Garak to look to the rails along the sides, presumably for holding on, admiring a bench, and ivy twining around the decorative trellises between the two sets of stairs. He doesn't tarry long; he is quite excited himself to see the view, still not quite sure that he shares Julian's enthusiasm for a ride in a beast that looks eminently impractical. He doesn't get the chance however as Julian comes running down the stairs suddenly, nearly knocking him over.
"By the State, Julian, what is-"
"Jadzia!" Julian exclaims, hovering in the doorway impatiently. "Brace yourself, we need to launch now."
"What?" Garak is positive that somewhere he's missed something major as Julian shakes his head almost violently.
"No time. He's coming. She'll make it. But now." Julian is already gone, and in spite of his slight mobility handicap, Garak dashes up the stairs as quickly as possible, ignoring everyone else as he takes hold of the railing and looks towards the direction of town. And as he does, he absolutely catches sight of Jadzia on horseback, approaching from the end of town a coil of rope on the side of the saddle, driving the poor beast furiously. But that isn't what makes his eyes open wide, the figures still pinprick tiny to most, he's sure, but not to his keen vision. No, it isn't Jadzia, he sees, that caused Julian to run, at least he's fairly certain of that. Because behind her, Garak catches the most incredible sight.
Behind her runs a Klingon in a gold Starfleet uniform, getting further and further away from the galloping horse; and he looks anything but happy.