A myriad of people filled the circular open space that was the planet's main marketplace. The many tall naked trees, ferns and lichens that grow and melt with the small buildings that served as shops gave the walkers the impression they were out in a virginal alien jungle. One of the few that remained in Clarus.
But the world, an omega class planetoid near the wormhole in the Gamma Quadrant has never held any life. It orbited alone around a small sun, too far to get any heat from it. The planetoid had probably been a comet coming from another system and trapped into the weak but still sufficient gravitational force of the sun.
No one had had any interest on the solitary world until the last war, when the Dominion had created a secret installation to monitor their own troops and that of their new enemies. Once abandoned after their retreat, the outpost had fallen into Romulans' hands. The new owners had found their acquisition worthless. Ready to left the planet again, they have been glad to hear a surprising offer: one crazy Ferengi businessman wanted to buy it from them. Opportunity was a common word in both cultures, even if it had different connotations, and thus, the distrustful Romulans agreed to concede the planetoid's use and exploitation to the Ferengi but kept their property, so "the ugly rock", as they called it, would still be under their political jurisdiction.
The street-wise Ferengi, by the name of Nacur, had officially named his new enterprise The Ugly Rock, taking fun of the disinterested Romulans, and have started to rebuild the military station into an entertainment resort. His first installation was still the most popular: the main marketplace. Being native to the Clarus world, he had found in his home the source of his inspiration, and he had transplanted the native vegetation of his planet into the big artificial sphere that held the different businesses; even the open mines that made most of Clarus and its mud rivers had been replicated, and often it rained. Ferengis, who owned most of the establishments, loved the rain, since it remainded them of their home world; most of their foreign clients, however, found it unpleasant. But that was good, because it kept them inside their shops and restaurants, spending their money.
Because The Ugly Rock had become the most popular resort in the new Gamma Quadrant, where freighters and curious tourists always made a stop. Several hotels and every kind of commercial enterprises had settled and flourished in the former languid Dominion outpost, where business people from all species had a place, if latinum came with them. And oddly, the ferocious Romulan eagle still welcomed and presided over all them. Nacur was now happily very rich, and the Romulan Star Empire had in exchange got the perfect place for political propaganda, and for information and misinformation in the Gamma Quadrant, since even if very few Romulan officials could be seen, most of the Romulan traders who fared at the planet were actually spies.
They were not the only ones. Garak, who had decided to remain in the Gamma Quadrant near the Romulan fleet, had found no better place to be. He could have enjoyed his time there, but he had had to put up with a very annoying inconvenience; still he wondered why he had agreed to such a deal; he was probably losing his mind.
The Romulan officer, Centurion Lior, as he had learned, kept behind him as the perfect escort, grim, impassive and effective. Still dressed with his dark long coat, he was a dull shadow only noticeable if for the stark contrast between his clothes and the bright, exclusive and expensive ones the Cardassian wore. He had never left him alone, not even when Garak almost got no admittance to an old acquaintance's place because of his unknown presence. The Romulan wanted to know all Garak's moves and words; after all, that was what his commander had ordered him to do.
At the back of a decadent liquor shop, they had been welcomed by a very old and wasted Ferengi man. His riches kept for different social occasions, the man gave a deceptive impression, used to fool those who were not forewarned. However, Garak knew who he had in front of him, an important weapons dealer who had moved to the Gamma Quadrant looking for the interesting perspectives of the new opening market. For in his mind, the delicate peace was a perfect culture for strife and therefore, profit.
Garak knew the man was in his debt; he also knew Ferengis hardly kept their debts if it was not among them. The presence of the Romulan wasn't helping. The old dealer kept taking wary glances at him, wondering, as he did, why and what for the warrior was there.
Anyway, the visit was turning out to be a disappointment. The Ferengi, who knew all what happened around the Gamma Quadrant, did not have a price for the information he wanted, and that could only mean that he had not hear a word, since from past experiences, he did not dare to lie to Garak anymore.
"Don't you know the Rules of Acquisition?" he had asked him once as he gulped down a mouthful of slugs; both Garak and Lior were finding the Ferengi's eating habits repulsive, but none of them gave that off. "Sometimes the only thing more dangerous than a question is an answer."
Of course, Garak knew the rules very well; he also understood what he meant. Many times lately he had wondered what he was doing and why. He was obviously stepping into a very slippery matter and he wondered if it was worth the risk. "Never let business become personal," also said the espionage rules, and this was all a very personal vendetta, he was well aware.
To the greedy weapons dealer he only answered with another of their so important rules, though, "The riskier the road, the larger the profit."
When they were leaving the place, as clueless as they had entered, the Ferengi man surprised him giving what seemed free advise. "Remember, Garak," he had said, his sharp teeth clearly visible in his ugly smile, "You can't make a deal if you are dead."
The foreboding words were weighting heavily in the Cardassian's mind even if he kept his appearances and continued beaming brightly. A light rain was falling again, and the Romulan showed slightly his annoyance by turning his eyes up to the visible purple sky before putting on his coat's hood. Garak followed his gaze. Somewhat, the almost barren landscape, with his gray and brownish vegetation, was beautiful, and the very high transparent ceiling of the marketplace, that let the dark purple or pitch black alien sky and its stars be seen, only added to that foreign beauty. Garak realized suddenly that they actually matched his mood.
He missed a stimulating conversation, and his hardly tolerated company always kept quiet. Once again, he tried to change that. This time, he went directly for a far more personal issue.
Stopping at a jewelry establishment's shop window, he turned to face the Romulan centurion. "Why don't you hate me, as your commander does?" he had suddenly enquired.
The soldier, for an instant, was thrown back. A moment later, he recovered, and softened a little his stone face to reply, "She says you're an assassin, a killer, but so am I."
Garak had seen that same expression come to the man's face several times before, when he caught the Romulan silently studying him; it has always surprised him to find sheer curiosity written in his face, even sympathy, and then it was that look, as if he were somewhat lost in an old memory.
For the not so young anymore Lior really was remembering. "Just a killer," his passionate and very much bound to honor commander had said to dismiss and distrust the Cardassian spy. But then, that was all he was. Since he had met Raghnill in that foul Klingon prison, he had been her weapon, always killing when she said to kill, and never flinching, never failing; he had felt valued because of that. Before, with other commanders, he had always been a nobody, and even if he knew he was not command material, and being lowly born would never reach further in the ranks, for him being an important assessment of his commander's crew was enough to be happy. And he thought he counted with Raghnill's open recognition.
Absently, he run his hand over the place where his clothes hid one of the few scars that still marked his skin; Raghnill had paid for the surgery required to cure most of them, when his own payment hadn't been enough. He had endured much for her, he had shed his blood in many occasions and he had done it gladly, even if maturity had made him lost part of the bloodlust that had driven him before. But now, when he looked at the alien spy and remembered her dismissive words, he wondered if he was placing well his loyalties.
He hardened again to look at Garak in the eye and finish his sentence. "That's all I am, a killer just like you. How can I despise you?"
Now finally reading clearly through the troubled man's eyes, Garak laughed. "Oh, I don't think that's the reason why she dislikes me. You misunderstood her." Garak leaned closer to the Romulan man and lowered his voice to continue, "See, there are killers and killers, and I belong to the second group."
Looking at the other's puzzled expression, he clarified, "Loyalty, honor, duty; those are not words that apply to me." Garak practically breathed his words to the Romulan's scalp, his grin intended to be mockingly menacing.
It had no effect on the veteran soldier, who remained unfazed, but he internalized the meaning anyway. He realized now what his commander had intended to say, and he felt ashamed he had for a moment doubted her high consideration of him; he berated himself for having committed the crime of ever questioning her. Raghnill had prized him, but he had always treasured her, for there was no better commander. They shared a bond. They were family.
The former spy was still laughing at his foolishness, and it only made him felt worse. However, unintentionally, he was going to give the answer that would make the Cardassian recoil too, if only for a very brief instant.
Lior was looking at the alien man, mulling also his taunting unregretful words and all he had known of him, and he reflected aloud. "I still don't think that's true," he said, "I think those values are also important to you."
And that's when Garak felt silent, gaping slightly. But the moment was so brief, the change back to his normal cheerful and condescending self so quick, that Lior doubted it had ever happened.
"Do you want to buy something as souvenir?" Garak was saying, his focus now back at the stand. "Something to show to others that you really visited all these exotic places?"
Lior actually appreciated the twist in the conversation; the former one had made him feel too bad. He was trying to be as professional as possible keeping the distance with the Cardassian operative, but he realized acting as guard to Garak did not make much sense. After all, his orders were just to watch him. Finally, thus, he joined the other's casual talk; besides, he was being truthful when he had said he did not dislike him, in spite of all. "Maybe something for my wife," he conceded.
But when they both were ready to go shopping around the resort, the communicator beeped; Raghnill signaled it was time to come back; finally, they had news.