The cleanup on the promenade was almost complete after weeks of chaos, blocked paths and everything with a thin layer of dirt covering dirt. Repair teams took care of the remaining, smaller damage to less important facilities and installed the last wall coverings over formerly ruptured pipes. Life aboard the station normalized noticeably under the Federation's steady hands, and both parties, Bajor and the Federation, struggled to create everyday civilian life on Deep Space Nine.
Heading to his tailoring, Garak passed some newly opened stores. Not all dealers had viewed the change in station management positively, especially those who worked closely with the Cardassian occupiers, and as a result some shops were empty. But new traders were quickly found who were happy to fill these gaps.
Garak was surprised to see the busy activity in the narrow shop to the right of his tailoring shop, which had always been orphaned, nobody wanted to be busy next to him, the outlawed Cardassian. Several Bajoran artisans assembled furniture that was parked on the promenade into the room, led by a woman in a dirty and unshapely overalls. She explained where the furniture should be placed, helped with the alignment herself and measured the distances with a laser. Garak paused curiously and watched the unknown woman with long, black hair tied into a practical ponytail. She was not a Bajoran, he found, lacking the typical nose ridge.
The tailor opened the doors of his shop, sorted some clothes from the previous day around on stands and started working. Some orders were waiting to be completed and customers were usually not very patient. Nobody understood nowadays that good handwork took its time.
A few times the tailor heard loud noises from the shop next door, indicating the progress of the work, but he paid no further attention. He preferred to think about information he had received in a way that no one knew he could use, especially not the Obsidian Order. He probably wouldn't get any money for the information this time, but that didn't bother the Cardassian. It could pay off at some point if people in useful positions owed him a favor.
Garak was changing the collar of a new jacket for the bar owner Quark when he nearly dropped tools and jacket in shock. Pulsating boom and roar painfully filled his premises. The volume decreased slowly, finally only a slightly irritating rhythmic stomp was to be heard. He continued his work shaking his head. Maybe he should have a friendly chat with the new neighbor in a not too distant future and welcome her in his exceptional way.
Hours later Garak closed his business premises. The day had been average uneventful for the tailor, and he was looking forward to his nightly reading and a glass of Kanar. With Quark's jacket over his arm, he headed for the bar, already looking forward to the small banter about the payment. Two bottles of Kanar of a superb vintage were agreed, Quark would probably try to lower the price as usual and, as usual, he would charmingly and with a subtle menace undertone in his smile, convince Quark to add another bottle.
His new neighbor was still working. Through the windows he could see her standing on a ladder, hanging up pictures on the wall. As soon as the new shop opened, he would satisfy his curiosity, see what the lady had to offer and, on the occasion, point out the rather thin walls, which do little to dampen the sound.
Quark was in a lively discussion with a Federation technician. Garak had to wait a few minutes, a disgrace to his ears. He didn't like this bar at all. In addition, he had to fight back the Ferengis, who wanted to sweeten the waiting time with Kanar and Dabo girls, of course not at the expense of the house. But finally the universe had an understanding and Quark approached him with his exaggerated business-like friendliness.
"Garak, my friend. I am so happy to finally be able to welcome you back to my humble establishment. You know, I still have this wonderful holo program that I had specially programmed for the cardassian crew at the time. The women are really exquisite, and I am sure you will like the dark-haired one …" The tailor interrupted the annoying babble of the Ferengi by putting on his perfectly rehearsed smile, the broad smile that never reached the eyes and triggered the wish in almost everyone to get to safety. He placed his right one on Quark's chest, just below the throat, and shook his head.
"Quark please, you know that I am not receptive to such profane offers. I would prefer if we could do our business as soon as possible, so I could retire to my quarters."
Garak bowed his head to the side in the Cardassian manner, refreshed his smile and handed the new jacket to Quark. The bar owner took the jacket and went around the counter.
"So two bottles of Kanar." He muttered dissatisfied.
"Even though you were done rapidly. You might think that under these circumstances a bottle is more than enough, it's your favorite vintage, Garak!" The tailor raised his index finger and wiggled it under Quark's nose. "My dear Quark, I know that the value of real handcraft is alien to you, your offer of two bottles was an insult that I only ignored because I hope for a closer business relationship. I obtain three bottles, and if you place a more substantial order, maybe re-equipping your Dabo girls, I will accommodate you with the price." Garak smiled a little wider now, his head bowed, his eyes glowing in icy blue.
2 Days later
"Good morning, Garak!" Doctor Bashir caught up with him. "May I accompany you a bit, I have to go in the same direction." Garak indicated a slight bow. "Good morning, Doctor. What brings you to the promenade at such an early hour? An emergency?" The tailor knew very well that in an emergency the doctor would not have walked so relaxed next to him. But the young man had a great need to correct the wrong assumption, and to get information it was enough to simply make a wrong thesis.
"But no, Garak, no emergency. I want to pay a medical check-up to the new store that opened next to yours today." Garak was irritated. "I do not understand, my dear Doctor, to what extent is a business of medical interest to you? It didn't look like a pharmacy was being built there yesterday. "
The two men already approached their destination and the Cardassian understood the connection between the new business and the doctor's visit.
"Choice of torment" was emblazoned on an illuminated sign above the frosted glass entrance door, which reduced the view inside to a play of light and shadow. The shop window to the left of the door was also replaced with frosted glass and covered with advertising slogans. "Tattoo & Piercing" was there, and "Tooth Modifications".
"Doctor Bashir, please explain to me, what are "Dermal Implants"? What is the purpose of this business?" "Fashion, Garak, fashion. Come in and have a look at it." Bashir grinned cheekily at the tailor and reached for the handle.
The interior of the small shop was brightly lit, but indirectly and no light reflected from the many display cases with jewelry and the glass picture frames. Garak recognized various parts of bodies in the pictures, which were decorated with colorful pictures or pierced by metal jewelry. A series of small pictures presented teeth that were sharpened, pierced or decorated with precious stones. He tugged on Bashir's uniform and pointed curiously to the image of a tattooed penis. "Doctor, does this painting have a cult meaning?" "This is not a painting, Garak, that ..." The constant buzzing that had been subliminally audible to the two men since entering the store and mixed with the background music of the business, had stopped. The woman Garak had seen the days before in the shapeless overalls came out from behind a simple room divider in the back of the shop. As she walked, she took off purple latex gloves and threw them on a small counter. "Hello, I'm Jessica. How may I hurt you?" she asked with an open smile. Jessica wore a simple, black top with spaghetti straps and knee-length cargo pants with several pockets.
Her skin was wherever you saw it, littered with various pictures. But the first thing Garak noticed was the long scar that crossed the left half of her face from the forehead to her upper jaw. Whatever had happened to her, she had obviously been lucky because the woman's left eye was intact.
"Hello, my name is Julian Bashir. I am the chief medical officer of DS9 and I wanted to offer my help right from the start in case you should have a medical problem here." He shook her hand and smiled in his inimitably naive way.
"You mean you want to check if I know what I'm doing here or if I'm going to flood your infirmary with patients." She answered emotionless. Her friendly smile was gone.
Bashir waved: "But no, I did not want to assume …" Jessica interrupted the doctor immediately. "I have received first class training in all types of body modifications offered here and have successfully completed several medical courses on wound treatment and trauma surgery for lay people. I work extremely conscientiously." That was the end of the matter for her, and she turned to Garak. "I didn't know that Cardassians were still here. Are you interested in an ajan or tolv piercing? I have learned the practices but have never had the pleasure of applying them to any of yours?" The woman pointed to the photo of a bare humanoid male breast with pierced nipples. The Cardassian reflexively pulled his hands over his upper body.
"A very interesting idea, my lady, but actually, I came in with the doctor for curiosity. I am your neighbor, I own the tailoring next door. May I introduce myself, Elim Garak." He stretched out his right hand in a human manner.
Jessica looked at his outstretched hand for a moment too long and the tailor did not miss the tension that had taken hold of the woman. The moment passed, she took his hand and unexpectedly squeezed it hard, looked him in the eye and smiled businesslike. "Delighted Mr. Garak, I am Jessica Gunnarsson, but please call me Jessica." She quickly removed her hand and took a step back. "If that's all I want to continue. My customer is waiting." She sauntered to the back of the shop, but Garak held her back again. "May I look over your shoulder for a short while? I am unfamiliar with this form of… art and, as I mentioned, I am curious." Jessica thought for a moment, biting her lower lip unconsciously. Then she nods. "Well then, come on."
"Doctor." Garak said goodbye with a slight bow and strode after the woman.
Behind the room divider, a man, a Starfleet member, as Garak suspected, was lying on a simple, padded couch with height-adjustable metal legs. His bare torso was covered with a cloth that left a square about four inches wide. There he could see the outline of a federation coat of arms, the insignia of a Starfleet ship. Jessica put on fresh gloves and picked up a small device. He recognized the buzz from earlier and was fascinated to see how the tip of the device was first dipped in colored ink and then stabbed that ink into the skin.
The Cardassian watched the process for a few minutes. The crew member went through the process quite stoically and only hissed briefly here and there. Garak cleared his throat. "Thank you for this very interesting insight, Jessica. I have to say goodbye now, my work is waiting for me. I look forward to seeing you again." She just nodded to him and continued to focus on the skin under her fingers.