THE AGREEMENT
By The Collaborators
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CHAPTER FIVE
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Kira was busy packing what little she might need on this brisk trip to Bajor, when she found herself on the receiving end of an unexpected message.
"Major," said Dukat's voice over her commlink, "I'm sorry there will be no time for a more relaxed dinner tonight, but I'm told we can expect a lavish meal on Bajor. However, as we still have a couple of hours, I'd like to invite you to lunch. There are a few things I want to discuss with you."
Kira seethed. The commlink was hardly a closed channel. Or was she being too sensitive? Apart from what might be taken for his usual banter when addressing her, he had said nothing that indicated a -- private understanding. For all she knew, this was strictly work-related.
"Very well, Gul Dukat," she sighed. "Where and when did you have in mind?"
"My quarters, in about fifteen minutes," he told her curtly, sounding for all the world like the commander of the station and nothing else. "Be there," he added significantly and closed the channel.
Be there -- this time. She had wondered when he would bring that up...
She pressed the door chime, hoping that Odo was not hanging around somewhere. She had never been paranoid concerning his abilities before, but then, she had not had a reason before. The only question was, did she have one now? She heard Dukat call for her to enter, and did so as the door reacted to his voice and let her in. He was standing with his back to her, busying himself with some padds as far as she could see -- probably reports of some kind.
"You're a little early, Major," he greeted her without turning around. "Please excuse my inhospitality, I'll be with you in a moment."
She acknowledged this and began to stroll around his quarters while waiting.
Suddenly she stopped dead. On a small corner table was his disruptor.
Just lying there, almost innocuously, the drawer open underneath it, as if he had just removed it when he was interrupted, perhaps by someone bringing those reports. Well, they must be important, if he had forgotten all about his weapon... A military man? This military man? With the Cardassian attention to details? This had to be a setup.
Taking care not to touch the weapon, she leant over it to examine its power indicator. Its pack was low but not empty. She could not understand it. She straightened again and nearly jumped as she saw him looking at her, a smile playing around his lips. He had put the padds aside and turned around, but he had not moved from the spot.
"A little obvious, I admit, but I was short on time," he said. "Pardon me, Major, but I had to be sure."
She nodded. "I see. You couldn't take me along for protection against Bajoran zealots if you suspected I might take the first available opportunity to shoot you. But this proves nothing..."
"No," he admitted. "You passed the first test. You didn't simply think this was too good an opportunity to pass up, and hang the consequences. At least I can rely on you to think first. The question is now, would you have shot me if you hadn't suspected a trap?"
"You know me better than that!" she spat before considering that keeping him in the dark might have been to her advantage.
Too late.
"Do I, Major?" he asked lightly. "Haven't you ever shot anyone in the back?"
She did not deign to answer him. He was drawing her out again, and she would not fall for it this time.
He nodded slightly, as if to himself. "Perhaps I do know you, Major," he said, approaching her. "I certainly hope so -- though I wouldn't mind getting to know you even better."
He came to stand within her personal space as usual, and she had to steel herself not to move away -- or press close to him. He always did that, damn him. Stood too close, without touching. She suspected it was really an interrogation technique put to a different use. As if enticing her to touch him first... She also suspected that if she ever succumbed to temptation, it would take only that one touch, and this predator would swallow her whole. She chided herself for finding the idea intriguing.
"But I would still like to hear your reasons," he added, pretending to be unaware of what his proximity was doing to her, although he knew precisely. "Over lunch."
He finally moved away and crossed over to the replicator. "You'll excuse me if we keep this simple? As I mentioned, we will dine extravagantly on Bajor tonight. I should have a decent bottle of Bajoran table wine somewhere though... Not too strong... suitable for lunch..."
He set the table himself. Obviously, he didn't want anyone else present. It made her wonder about his guards -- the ones she had expected to come crawling out of the bulkheads as soon as she approached that disruptor.
The table was much smaller than her own. He was sitting so close as to tower over her. If he reached out, he could touch her easily -- but of course, he never would, would he?
"First," he said, pouring wine for them both, "Why didn't you come to my quarters last night?"
"I was held up."
"Oh? Hardly on station business, or I would have known. What then?"
"I had another visitor after you left."
She knew he would never content himself with so vague an explanation.
"Odo came to see me," she gave in to his inquisitive gaze.
"Odo?" he said, momentarily surprised. He had not quite expected this.
"Well, what did you tell him?"
"It wasn't necessary to tell him anything. He had seen you leave. He thinks you have put some pressure on me. Which, you must admit, is not far from the truth," she added sarcastically.
"Oh, I don't know about that..." he said, "After all, you volunteered, Major. And for rather more than I've held you to -- so far," he couldn't refrain from adding. "Odo is a good man," he mused, not bothering to make distinctions according to species, "very perceptive. But he doesn't know me very well. Perhaps because he has never done his fly-on-the-wall trick in my quarters."
"Odo is a gentleman," Kira said wryly. "But how can you be so sure?"
He leant forward a little, as if imparting a secret. "Simple, Major," he almost whispered. "I made sure he was always seen somewhere else before I undertook anything important..."
"He's the most upright man in two quadrants!" Kira flared on behalf of her friend. "You recognized that, you employed him -- but you don't trust him?"
"I don't trust upright men, Major," Dukat said. "They get ideas. I prefer beings whose motives I can see plainly. Not that I trust them either. Which brings us back to the question of whether I can trust you. Would you really have shot me, if you had been convinced you could succeed?"
"Trust is a fragile thing," she said. "Before I answer that, I'd like to know why you decided to keep Jake on the station."
He was genuinely surprised. "I thought that's what you wanted. At least it's better than sending him off to trial on Prime, you'll admit?"
"That depends. On your plans for him here, for instance."
He was utterly baffled. "Really, Major, your suspicions are totally unwarranted. Why this sudden hostility? After all I've done for..."
"I had yet another visitor late last night," she cut him off before he could begin extolling his own virtues again. "Weyoun."
"Weyoun," Dukat repeated with sudden understanding. Trust that poisonous little luargh to... but he could not voice those feelings to Kira. Not yet...
"I wouldn't pay too much attention to Weyoun," was all he said. "He's not in charge here -- I am. And I assure you Jake will be quite safe as long as he remains on my station."
He made no qualifications, no references to their... agreement. He just stressed the word 'my' ever so slightly, knowing it would annoy her.
"So," he said, pouring her more wine, "I have answered your question -- now you will answer mine. Would you have tried to kill me?"
This time she looked down at her hands before answering. Good sign. He had had just about enough of her pathos-filled proclamations. Her least likable side, he always thought.
"No," she said quietly. "No, I wouldn't have."
"Why?" he prompted, slightly incredulous.
"Something in what you told me last night... awaiting execution..." her voice trailed off. What had she been about to say? That she had suddenly pictured a universe without him, and...
...This table wine could not be all that light after all. "Oh, I don't know," she copped out.
He nodded understanding, choosing not to make fun of her near-revelation. "A soldier's life is traditionally short, Major," he said, apparently without connection. "As well you know. We may not always be around -- to take our meals together..."
It didn't come out as light as he had meant it to. He could see that she noticed.
"What I don't understand," she changed the subject, "is how you had planned to survive. If I had made the attempt, I mean. All right, the charge was low, possibly low enough not to kill outright, but at the very least you would have been critically injured. I'm a good shot, I trust you never doubted that. Where was your protection?"
He smiled at her. "Protection? I had none. Save perhaps in your heart, Major."
---
The party from Terok Nor was the first to arrive at the negotiation site, a monastery located in the Bestri Woods of Dahkur Province, and Kira had suggested a walk to stretch their legs. He agreed, not because he had any particular fondness for flowers, trees, or 'fresh air', but because it might well be his only chance on this trip to spend some time alone with her. The breeze was decidedly too cool for his comfort, but the low intensity of the sunlight, filtered as it was through the overhanging foliage, suited him just fine.
He regarded his companion with some satisfaction, things had gone rather well the other evening... Although her initial reaction to the news concerning Jake Sisko had puzzled him, surely his reassurances had convinced her of his benevolent intentions. He'd left Damar with strict instructions to keep the boy well guarded -- he didn't want Jake meeting with any untoward 'accidents', and he didn't trust Weyoun to leave well enough alone.
She kept a steady patter going, concerning the history of the place, its significance to the Bajoran religion, and the identity of the various plant forms surrounding them. Pretending to pay at least minimal attention to her words gave him an excuse to study her profile.
Bajoran women! How lovely she was -- all that warm, soft, scale-free skin, every millimeter lined with sensitive nerve endings... a veritable walking erogenous zone from head to toe! In the hands of someone who knew what they were doing, that is, he thought with satisfaction. He allowed himself the luxury of imaging what she would look and feel like... desire, rather than loathing, filling those passionate brown eyes... Her naked breasts crushed up against his bare chest... He had always sensed she was far more interested than she cared to admit -- her challenging manner subconsciously intended to tempt... and, oh, how tempting it was...
"Gul Dukat," she shattered his reverie, "have you been listening to anything I've said? You've always claimed to be interested in Bajoran culture. This is one of the most famous monasteries on the planet! But if you don't want to know, I certainly won't bother ..."
"Please, Kira, we are alone now. Can't we drop the titles?"
"You were quite insistent on being a gul this morning."
"That was for Weyoun's benefit -- I think it best that he remain unaware of the more 'intimate' aspect of our relations. I assumed you'd agree..."
She snapped at him, "Yes, I certainly do not want anyone else to know of our agreement."
"No, of course not." He chuckled softly to himself. Perhaps a little Cardassian-style banter would liven up their conversation. He swatted some insect away from his face, and gestured around at the forest surrounding them, "I never saw any point to all this uncultivated greenery you Bajorans are so fond of. It serves no purpose: you can't eat it, make weapons, clothes, or buildings from it -- in short, it is useless."
"The intent is not 'material', Dukat. We visit the forest so we can be soothed by its beauty and meditate on our place in the natural world."
"That's what's wrong with you Bajorans -- you're far too passive. It is self-indulgent, as well as complete waste of time, to sit and wait for enlightenment and a sense of purpose to come to you -- you have to get out there and take it for yourself!"
He grabbed a fistful of air to illustrate his point.
"I, on the other hand," he was only partly exaggerating in order to tease her, "never questioned my place in the 'natural world' -- I knew exactly where I belonged the first time I set foot on the bridge of a Galor-class warship!"
"I should have been an artist." She spoke petulantly, as if she really believed that she had missed out on something. "I was never meant to be a soldier."
"Tell me, Major," he made the effort not to sneer, as he really wanted her honest answer, "do you have any artistic talent?"
"I don't know. I never had the chance to find out."
"Well, you have plenty of talent as a soldier. I can think of no one who has more flair for guerrilla actions than you... That's a sincere compliment, Major, and frankly I can't imagine why you seem to think that a lifetime spent manufacturing clay statuettes for the tourist trade would have been an improvement over the very real accomplishments of your military career."
"No, you don't get it do you, Dukat?" She burst out angrily, "It's my life, and you stole it! So maybe I wouldn't have been a very good artist. So what?"
He had no answer to that, it was too absurd even to contemplate, and they fell into silence as they walked more briskly along the trail. He tried to amuse himself by recapturing his earlier fantasy of her, but it was no use pretending. She would never permit herself to care for him, or desire him in any way. Oh, she would keep to her part of the bargain and submit if he insisted... and then lie under him like some dead thing, or else fake it a bit -- as if he could be fooled like that --while her mind roamed far away...
No thank you, Kira Nerys.
Rounding a turn brought a ruined building into view; signs of its destruction by fire were unmistakable. It appeared that the stone walls had once been roofed with timber, and a few charred remnants of the once massive supporting beams were still in their original places. The fire had been hot enough to crack the stone blocks, and whole sections of wall had caved outwards into the surrounding meadow. He guessed it must have been an ancient structure when it was destroyed -- stylistically it was far more primitive than even the Bajoran architecture of the much-vaunted First Republic. He guessed also that his companion had some point to make, as she had stopped walking and was regarding him expectantly.
Not to disappoint, he asked her, "What was it?"
"The original monastery," she informed him coolly. "It was burned to the ground during the Occupation."
"Of course." He gave her his flintiest smile, which, as he knew it would not, did not stop her.
"All thirty of the monks and their vedek were inside at the time. The gul in charge of Dahkur Province claimed that the monks were hiding Resistance members -- although he must have known that would have been against their beliefs. More likely, he simply considered their religion to be... distasteful."
Dukat considered interrupting her diatribe, but decided against providing her with that satisfaction.
She continued as if giving a tour to school children, "The new monastery was built in another part of the grounds, and the ruins were left as a monument to the dead. As they become overgrown and gradually disintegrate, they provide a symbolic lesson in the healing effects of time and natural processes."
Could this tale be intended as an olive branch? If a Cardassian had told it, it would have been. But considering the source... It seemed he had grossly underestimated the depth of her need to demonize him. She stubbornly persisted in her campaign to accuse him personally of every atrocity which had occurred during the Occupation. Not only did she blame him for every act of brutality committed by any Cardassian, her twisted logic held him responsible for all the heinous crimes of terrorism committed by the Bajoran Resistance as well. As far as he was concerned, they had both done what was necessary to best serve the interests of their respective peoples, and that was all there was to it. But she would never let it go at that.
"Is this why you brought me here, Major?" he asked her peevishly. "Some childish attempt to make me feel guilty?"
"Do you feel guilty, Dukat? I didn't think you capable... But no, that is not why I brought you here."
He followed her gaze to a figure which had just stepped out of a half- demolished doorway.
"Ziyal!"
"Hello father."
"I'll be over there." Kira inclined her head in the direction of a felled log where she could sit discreetly out of earshot.
He took his daughter's hands in his and searched her face. She looked calm, pleased to see him, and... resolute. It was amazing how her face, which held so much of his heritage in its features, was, nonetheless, a living image of Naprem. Ziyal's smile, the expression in her eyes, her overall bearing, were so reminiscent of her mother's that dormant grief stirred within him like a living thing. Awoken, that thing caused so much pain in trying to claw its way out, he wondered idly if it might actually stop his heart. Long practice had made controlling the agony second nature, and it did not distract him inordinately now.
"I have missed you so. Are you well?"
"I am fine. And you?"
"Yes, yes." Over the initial shock of seeing her, he was impatient to know everything all at once. "Where are you living? What are you doing? Who is looking after you? Are the Bajorans treating you well?"
It must have amused Kira no end that his agents had not succeeded in finding Ziyal -- when Kira must have known exactly where she was all along.
She laughed, and put up her hands to slow him down. "I'm living near the capital, staying with some friends of Major Kira's. No, I haven't had any problems, people in the capital are fairly sophisticated and used to alien faces. I do avoid venturing out into the countryside on my own --rural Bajorans can be a bit bellicose -- you know: 'the only good spoonhead is a dead spoonhead'."
He grimaced, but she shrugged her lack of concern. "First Minister Shakaar has been most kind -- he persuaded the University to allow me to attend some classes, even though I didn't have the usual prerequisites."
"Ziyal, please." He pleaded with her, desperately, "You must return home to Cardassia. It simply isn't safe here. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you why before, but surely now you understand ..."
"No, father, I can't live on Cardassia -- remember how it was before? I will never be accepted there."
Every protective paternal instinct in him aroused, he flared with indignation in memory of the scornful treatment she'd had at the hands of Cardassian society. "Things are different now. Believe me, you will be accepted."
"Oh, they would tolerate me, they might speak to me in public, or they might even invite me to their homes -- but they will never accept me. They would pretend to do so only because they fear you."
"And so they should..." He scowled, remembering how it had been when he had taken her home before.
"Is that not enough?"
"No, it is not. Cardassia is not my home, neither is Bajor. I belong on Deep Space Nine."
This time, the frown was for his daughter's benefit. "Terok Nor."
He paused before continuing, but she did not reply.
"In any event, the station is no place for you at the moment..."
"If it isn't safe, here or there, it's because of you -- only you can change things." She gave him a weary smile by way of softening her rebuke.
"I have to do what I believe is best for Cardassia. You don't know how bad things had gotten at home -- between the Maquis and those Klingon vandals ..." He gestured passionately with a chop of his hand through the air. "I seek to restore the preeminence which is rightfully ours. The Empire must expand, or we risk its complete collapse. Please try to understand, I must put the needs of our people before our personal comfort."
"I understand that you believe what you say, but I do not agree -- and I will never approve. Even if it's true that the Empire would otherwise crumble, what gives Cardassia -- or the Dominion for that matter -- the right to expand at the expense of other civilizations? Since I've been living on Bajor I've seen far more than I cared to of the consequences of Cardassian 'preeminence'. The landscape... the infrastructure... the people of this planet -- my mother's people -- will never fully recover from what was done here -- done in the name of Cardassia."
"So." Bitterly, he resigned himself to losing her. "You too prefer to see me as a monster. It pains me deeply, Ziyal, to know how much you must hate me."
"Hate you? Oh no, I could never hate you." This time it was she who reached out her hands to take his. "Do you remember the time... let's see, I must have been about ten... you actually took two full days off working and brought us down for a visit to Lake Hedrikspool?"
"A horrible place," he shivered at the memory, "much like this one -- trees and flowers, birds, and the constant, chilling, breeze ..."
"It was beautiful! We were so happy, just to have you all to ourselves ... even if you did sneeze the entire time ..."
"I was happy too, Ziyal."
"I know. And it wasn't just that time either. You were busy, but you were always there for me, and I knew it. When I was in that Breen labor camp ..."
"Ziyal!" It was a warning, torn out of him, that this might be too painful a place for either of them to go.
"No." That resoluteness he had seen on her face now expressed itself in her voice. "It needs to be said. I know it was difficult for you, but you came for me, and you gave up everything to keep me with you. You are my father and, no matter what happens, I will always love you."
He put a hand up to her face, and traced the faint ridge encircling one eye to where it met the folds embellishing the bridge of her nose. "You are so beautiful... so like your mother..."
"I need for you to try and understand something about me... about Garak."
He dropped his hand and sighed, but he refused to lose his temper. At least that dreadful man wasn't here with her -- his agents had learned that much, anyway. With luck she would soon forget about him. "Listen to me. This is important. When you look at me, you see your daughter -- and you remember the love you shared with my mother. When most people look at me -- Cardassians or Bajorans, it doesn't matter who they are -- they don't see me. They see only the ill-fated product of a few moments' unnatural passion..."
All his indignation on her behalf came flooding back, "Who dares?"
She shook her head. "No one says anything, they might not even exactly think it -- but they are uncomfortable. Most do get over it, and soon learn to see me as an individual. But of everyone I have ever met, only two people have looked right at me, Tora Ziyal, and accepted me from the very first glance."
"Garak." Dukat glowered, comprehending, but not pleased.
"Yes, Garak, and -- oddly enough -- First Minister Shakaar."
"Shakaar!" Dukat exploded in fury, "That lecher! If he's touched you, or approached you in any way! I swear, 'non-aggression pact' or no, I'll..."
Ziyal laughed at him, "Calm down! He has treated me with nothing but the utmost respect. Yes, he flirts with me a bit, but only enough for flattery's sake. Besides, don't you know? Women always prefer men who remind them of their fathers... I could only ever love a Cardassian man -- I need someone who is..." She coyly raised one eye-ridge and smiled up at him, "...complicated."
Pleased by her compliment, he still had to wince at its corollary, "But Garak..."
"No," she held up her hand, "let's not fight about it. Do you understand what I've been trying to tell you?"
"Yes, I suppose I do." Reluctantly conceding, he echoed her earlier words to him, "I understand, but I do not agree, and I will never approve."
"So, we will both have to settle for understanding then..."
He put his hands on her shoulders, and looked at her closely, recording every detail of her appearance with his eidetic memory. "I am sorry Ziyal, but I will have to be getting back soon. There's never enough time, is there?"
"It's okay. It was good to see you."
"And you." He hugged her gently to one side of the mid-line crest of his armor. For a moment he closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head. Releasing her, he asked, "I will see you again?"
"I hope so, but it's really up to you."
"I love you."
"And I you, father."
As he turned back towards the path, Kira stood up but did not move to meet him. She watched him approach, but had the courtesy, or perhaps the common sense, to say nothing. In silence, they retraced their steps to the new monastery. He found himself deeply grateful for her company, and even more grateful for her willingness to leave him to his own thoughts.
Even when they reached their rooms and needed to go their separate ways, she did not speak right away. She looked at him with -- what was it in her eyes? Understanding? Respect? Sympathy? Not, at any rate, her usual contempt and defiance. He dropped his own guard in response, "Thank you, Major."
She briefly lowered her eyes and dipped her head in acknowledgment.
The spell of the afternoon broken, she got down to business, "I'll see you in a bit. I spoke with the First Minister's staff when we first arrived. He is expected at 1800 -- there will be an hour for drinks and casual discussion, then dinner. First Minister Shakaar hopes that the two of you can reach an agreement quickly, under informal circumstances -- if negotiations bog down, your proposal will have to go before the entire Council of Ministers -- the debate alone could take months."
Dukat screwed up his face in distaste at that thought.
"Exactly," Kira nodded in emphatic agreement. "You'll want to avoid that, I'm sure..."
Astonishing, he thought, that she should be so helpful when she doesn't approve of this deal at all...
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