"From 2342 I studied at Starfleet Academy, especially Xenobiology, a few technical courses, I did not know exactly what I wanted. I was good, and I was ambitious but completely aimless. At that time the border war was raging with the Cardassians and in 2345 many medical students were asked temporarily support the medical centers on board the ships. There were many injured, especially among the civilian population. When I volunteered, I never thought about consequences, not considered I could be in danger. I was so blue-eyed and so eager to put into practice the little knowledge I had acquired.
My assignment led me to a commercial transport ship that was converted into a temporary hospital ship. Minimal armament, underperforming shields, but plenty of space. We could bring many injured on board before the situation became so chaotic that we had to withdraw. Unfortunately, we caught the attention of the Cardassians, and two warships followed us and assailed us. Much of the crew and patients were killed during the attack, others when the ship was boarded. Some of us who made it into escape pods were captured. You are a Cardassian, Garak, you can imagine what happened next.
We were all put together in a collection cell that was much too small. There was no water, no food, and no medical care for the injured. At some point the door opened and guards grabbed the first of us. I can still remember that he was a crew member on the freighter, a young man. I never saw him again. So one by one disappeared from our prison. They got me as the penultimate.
The guards took me to a bare room with metal walls, cut my clothes off, handcuffed my hands overhead to a hook, and let me stand there. I still don't know how long, but when the interrogation began, I was so exhausted and dehydrated that I would have done or said anything just to finally get water and just be able to lie on the hard floor.
But somebody thought I might have some vital knowledge. At that time I couldn't explain myself otherwise why they kept asking me the same questions over and over again and then punishing my missing knowledge with pain.
He didn't even hurt me badly, it was the humiliations that I couldn't take. Until then, I didn't know how much I could be ashamed.
After endless hours, looking back I would say something 2 days, the Cardassian, who had "questioned" me, released my bonds. I can't say whether he was sure that I didn't have enough Starfleet knowledge to waste more time on me, or if he was even bored, but now and then it seemed to me that questioning me served only his entertainment.
From then on, they kept me in a tiny, gloomy quarter on the ship, with just enough space for a low bed and sanitary facilities. The flowing water there seemed to me like a source of happiness for the first few days. I wasn't worth clothes to them, but it's astonishing what you can be grateful for. Fresh water, a blanket and regular meals. At that time, I actually thought that if the fighting subsided, I would be handed over to the Federation as part of a prisoner exchange, it was so naive to think that the worst was behind me, so naive."
Jessica fell silent and Garak wasn't sure if she could continue talking. He struggled with himself whether to speak to her or wait. From the corner of his eye he looked at her face, on which tears had left bright lines in the light make-up. But the woman got ahead of his thoughts. She took a deep breath and continued her story.
"So it took a few days, maybe even two or three weeks, to get bored on my bed, wrapped in the blanket, and pondering or sleeping. This poor time was interrupted only by the soldier who brought me my food. I hate Cardassian cuisine, just the smell of dried fish still makes me sick. But I didn't have to go hungry, I was warm and my body had recovered from the rigors of the interrogation after a few days, the wounds were healing.
And then everything changed. My last meal had just been brought to me, and I was dozing on my bed when the door opened and the soldier who had brought me the food tore me up by the arms, took the blanket and ground myself literally after him. I didn't fight back. Until now, I wonder if I should have defended myself. Of course, I didn't have a chance, but maybe the soldier would have struck too hard and hurt or killed me. Then I would have been spared the rest. But I didn't fight back and after a few branches and passageways we stopped at a door that opened immediately. The soldier addressed the opening Cardassian with 'Dal Ekoor'. It was the Cardassian who interrogated me at the beginning, and for a moment, I feared that the questioning would continue now that I had recovered. But the room behind Ekoor that I was roughly pushed into was the Dal's quarters.
The officer had decided that I could help to pass the time until he was ordered back home, to his wife.
But it wasn't enough for Ekoor to abuse me. In the following months I suffered so many injuries that I soon no longer knew where which scar came from or which finger I had not yet broken. Ekoor's cravings were quite diverse. If I resisted, he beat me until I stopped fighting, or he tied me up. If I didn't defend myself, I was too boring. Then he tortured me with his blades and tongs until I passed out or until I struggled so that he could beat me again.
At some point I asked him to kill me. I just couldn't do it anymore, and I didn't want to. That was the day I saw him smile for the first time. Ekoor smiled at me and whispered, "But you are already dead. You have been dead since you came on board." Then he reached into my hair, bent my head and cut my face with the knife with which he had cut the meat while eating. In the following hours he cut up a lot of me.
I don't know what had suddenly changed, but that day I was taken out of Dal Ekoor's quarters, given passably medical attention and handed over to a Starfleet ship a few days later.
It took me weeks to "recover", but even the many treatments with skin regenerators and cosmetic surgeries could not remove all the scars. At some point I refused to make further corrections and left Starfleet. All the time in the hospital I thought a lot and I just wasn't the same anymore. Everything has changed since then."
Jessica released Garak's hand and grabbed the bottle of Kanar. She didn't bother to pour the expensive drink into the glass. She drank straight from the bottle and Garak could understand. He would have liked to do it right now.
They just kept sitting there and in Garak there was a desperate desire to take away the memory of these experiences from her.
At some point, the bottle was almost empty, Jessica cleared her throat. "I hope you can understand my doings now and excuse my behavior towards you. I know you are not to blame, but when I see your face, I see Ekoor."
Garak nodded and rose a little stiff-legged. He paced slowly in his quarters as he spoke. He was agitated like he hadn't been in a long time. As a good Cardassian, he was loyal to the state and wanted nothing more than his return to Cardassia Prime, his home. But his people were also capable of cruelty, which made him shiver, especially because he knew that he himself was capable of cruelty, he had been. The difference between him and Ekoor was just the motive. Garak would never have thought of torturing out of lust or even boredom.
"I understand why I am causing this fear in you, and if you wish, I will endeavor to get as close to you as possible at this station." He had to clear his throat to keep a steady voice. "I don't want to trigger your discomfort. But this whole terrible story doesn't explain why you hurt yourself, Jessica. Please forgive my curiosity, but after these experiences, I just have to ask you. Why are you hurting yourself?" Garak paused and gave her a pleading look, trying to understand.
"I don't feel anything else." she said after a while of silence
Garak cocked his head and gave her a confused and questioning look. "I do not quite understand. What exactly do you mean?", the tailor walked over to the replicator and ordered two cups of red leaf tea. This was a tea situation. He brought both cups back to the sofa and sat down on the floor next to Jessica.
"Of course I notice when I am touched, when I push myself, or the breeze on my skin. But I don't feel it inside me. It just means nothing to me anymore, does not trigger a feeling in me." She grabbed the cup of hot tea and blew on the steaming liquid. "But I feel pain. Pain gives me the feeling of being alive. Sometimes it is really pleasant to feel the pain flood through my body. Pain has become an essential part of my life and I understand its nature. So, my business is all about the aesthetics of pain."
The Cardassian clasped his cup with both hands. The suffering of this woman was unusually close to him. "What about tenderness, what about sex? Are you saying you don't feel anything?" Garak was almost afraid of the answer.
Jessica shook her head. "No, I feel the physical touch, but it means nothing more or less to me than the clothes on the skin or any other random sensory impression.", she considered for a moment and continued "unless with Pain, then I can even feel something like pleasure or joy. It is better to feel pain than to feel nothing at all, hence the many scars." She paused again, only briefly, then put the cup down and rose.
"Garak, this conversation was very painful. Probably the most painful thing I've done since leaving Starfleet. Thank you." He paused, "What are you thanking for?" "For your patient listening and for your persistence, the follow-up. It was time to finally say these things. I think it would be nice to talk again at some point over a bottle of Kanar, but I can't promise that I will see you differently in the future, Cardassian." Jessica held out her hand and helped him to his feet. "I'm going to bed now, I am falling asleep. Good night, Garak."
He stayed behind thoughtfully. Although it lacked rationality, he felt a form of collective guilt because a man of his people had been capable of this cruelty.
Two days later, at lunch, Garak interrupted the verbose praise of a novel by Dr. Bashir wanted to make him tasty.
"Excuse me, my dear doctor. I appreciate that you want to bring the literature of your home world closer to me and to broaden my cultural focus. My thoughts are completely caught up in another topic today, and I'm afraid I can't get them to let go of this topic." Julian Bashir tried to smile, but the disappointment at this rejection was all too clear to see.
"But not, Garak. The book doesn't run away from us. I hope that the subject that is fogging you up is not unpleasant?"
As always, the doctor tried to hide his curiosity about everything that Garak was dealing with and kept himself busy with the Larish pie on his plate. For once, Garak was interested in letting the doctor share his thoughts.
"Well, the issue is not necessarily pleasant, but you might be able to answer a few questions that may give me a headache on the matter."
The pie was immediately forgotten and the doctor looked at Garak eagerly. "Sure, if I can help. What are the questions?" Bashir pushed his plate aside.
Garak followed his example, leaning his elbows on the table, slowly clasping his hands and searching for the right words. "The following situation: A person survives extreme psychological and physical trauma, recovers physically, but has been using auto-aggressive means for years due to the psychological damage. Which therapy would you prefer, medication or a confrontation therapy?" Garak went over his mind again, but was then certain that he had given no reference to Jessica. When he looked up, he saw Julian's astonished expression. His mouth was open, and it took him a moment to rally for an answer.
"Garak, I know you've seen a lot, but hopefully, we're not talking about you now, are we? We haven't known each other for too long, but I would have to think seriously about my profession if I hadn't noticed anything."
Garak smiled and shook his head. "But no, Doctor, I'm fine. It's about an old acquaintance that I would like to help."
Doctor Bashir breathed a sigh of relief and his posture relaxed immediately. "I am reassured. To come back to your question: I would prescribe a light medication for relaxation to begin with and talk therapy. A confrontation should only take place when the patient is more firm and prepared for such a situation. But it can take years, depending on the impressiveness of the experience. If I can help…" Garak held up his right hand in defense.
"No, I'm afraid a Starfleet doctor would be the last one my friend would ask for help. And I don't think he would agree to talk therapy either." His thoughts wandered briefly, his eyes fixed on the void, "What would be the worst-case consequences of a confrontation with the cause of his suffering?"
Julian thought for a moment, then nodded to himself. "In the worst case, the patient's mental condition deteriorates so much that he injures himself or even tries to kill himself. Or he directs the aggression against his tormentor, which can also lead to one or more injuries or deaths." He looked into Garak's eyes. "Garak, this is a very sensitive topic that should never be tackled without professional support. I see a lot of potential for a serious escalation in such a situation. Think carefully about how you want to help your friend. I am happy to assist you, you know that. "
Very late that evening, Garak removed a cover from the com unit in his quarters, manipulated some circuitry, and encrypted the transmitter so that the subsequent transmissions could neither be intercepted nor traced. He closed the cover carefully and without leaving any traces and contacted an old friend.
"Garak? Is it really you? I never thought I would see your face again. Not alive." The face of Pythas Lok was expressionless. Garak could not have said whether his friend from school days was happy or would have preferred to see him dead.
"Pythas, I'm therefore happy to see you again. It was a long time ago." The other Cardassian nodded slowly. "You're not going to get in touch with me to reminisce, Garak. What do you want?" Garak's mouth twisted in disappointment. He had at least expected Pythas to be a little more benevolent. "You get straight to the point, still a man less word. Well then, do you know a Gul Ekoor? He is probably legate now, but he was a gul during the border wars around the time of Setlik III."
Pythas nodded. "I know Ekoor. Not personally, but his name has attracted some attention here and there. I'm a little surprised that you don't know him. He only made it to the jagul, and he's stuck on a post without political and military influence. He has some habits that are inconsistent with a political career, but his family has too much influence than anyone dared to act against him. What do you want from Ekoor?"
The tailor fell away from Garak and, before Pythas' eyes, he turned into the agent of yore. As if a filter had been removed that blended Garak's perception with a softer, friendlier light, the Cardassian's features hardened and his eyes could have frozen boiling water. The anger in him gave his scales a dark color.
"I want to introduce Ekoor to someone who still has a bill to pay," Garak replied. He had to control himself to stay calm.
Pythas Lok raised an eyeridge, "Could you go into a little more detail? I don't assume that you want to visit him with this 'person' on Cardassia Prime."
"As much as I miss home, I don't let myself be carried away to such a short-sighted act," agreed Garak. "I think I'll have to 'invite' Ekoor to join us outside Cardassian territory. If you could tell me how to reach him, I will arrange his 'invitation'." This thought made Garak smile dangerously.
The other Cardassian leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and fixed his old friend. "Ekoor's family is extremely influential and their cohesion is almost legendary. If it turns out that I have allowed Crell Ekoor to happen, or that I knew about it and said nothing, then not only is my life worthless. You will take revenge on my whole family. Do you understand what situation you're putting me in, Garak?"
The former agent feared for a moment that his fine plan would fail at the first hurdle. There was currently no one on Cardassia who could help him on this matter and his confidence began to fade as Pythas continued, "I'm not saying I'm not trying to help you. Ekoor is a shame for Cardassia and the Cardassian military. But I want you to understand how dangerous such an action becomes, not only for you but also for many innocent people."
Garak looked away from the monitor. No, he hadn't been aware of it, and he certainly didn't want to jeopardize bystanders with his plan. How much could he ask of Pythas? "Old friend, I do not ask you lightly and should you decline, I will not ask a second time. Can you give me the location of Crell Ekoor? That's all, I don't need any more help from you." He didn't dare to face his former schoolmate, he fears rejection too much. When Pythas' voice broke the silence, Garak winced.
"I'll give you the information, Garak. And I hope you can successfully implement your plan. But no matter whether you fail or succeed, never ask me for anything again."