Note: Surprisingly this wasn't a last minute rush job, I just had a lot going on today and well this weekend in general. Anyway, I don't want to call this a filler chapter, but there was a part of me that wanted to move ahead a bit faster. Still, there were things I wanted to foreshadow but enough stalling, next chapter the shit is really gonna hit the fan as it were. I always find Nog a bit hard to write, and for now we'll see if the rest of the Valiant crew is out for the count. Thank you everyone along for this crazy and awesome ride and of course, your comments are always welcome!


"Well, it seems that our mysterious assassin will have to remain just that for the time being- a mystery," Garak remarks mildly, filing away every little tidbit of information for later review. It wouldn't do to sink to the ground in some primal human scream now when it seems as if he's going to need to remain in survival mode. He has no delusions that the fire might possibly come from a hostile source given what happened back in the sand. Still, Julian held fast without breaking that character. That makes him cautiously optimistic. He notes that Julian still has the gun raised, as he lowers his arms, the blood rushing back with pins and painful needles. He winces, shrugging his shoulders, trying to work the muscles back to some semblance of life. "Should I be concerned?" He asks, noting that the gun is still pointed at him. "As you've seen, I've been nothing but upfront with you, my dear." Which isn't entirely accurate, of course, it just so happens that the unfortunate circumstance of his entire life thus far has strangely worked out in his favor. He never could have anticipated such a massive upheaval in his home world in such a short amount of time, let alone one in which the Order no longer exists. And while he may not find it particularly unusual for someone to have marked him for death there is something strange about the entire scenario that he cannot quite grasp.

Julian's expression is unusually unreadable, but he lowers his arm with a sigh.

"I really don't know what to even believe with you, Garak," he says as he hands the weapon back carefully. "But it seems as if we may have had… better luck than I'd expected." He looks distinctly uneasy now as he speaks, brushing past Garak, stopping in front of the two bodies. Garak turns, seeing only Nog and Collins approaching, both ashen faced. Collins, he notes, is visibly shaking.

"I expect you'll want to pick their pockets," Julian answers sounding almost angry, and Garak thinks that if anyone ought to be on the very of a veritable temper tantrum right now, he's earned that right more than anyone else. He sees Julian's finger reach up to his face, and touch the blood spatter carefully, almost solicitously before shaking his head and wiping it off on his pant leg. He is not entirely wrong, though Garak hardly expects to find anything of note on either corpse.

"You say that so dismissively, Julian," Garak calls out as he kneels by the first, "but if I find any of that rock candy you're so fond of, I promise you'll be sorry.

He's already fishing beneath the poncho when he sees Julian pause. Even with that back to him he can perfectly well picture that look of disgusted irritation and he basks in that disapproval. A character failing perhaps, to delight so in playing into those ignorant misconceptions, but if Julian wishes to continue their acquaintance, better to acclimate himself to such necessities as these sooner rather than later. And really, he acts as if he's not the one who led an entire group of men to be eaten by some onworld monster…

"You're right of course," Julian says suddenly, as if Garak had actually spoken those words aloud. I'm sorry." He slows his walk thoughtfully. "I can only imagine… you know… nevermind. If you find any... em rock candy, that is, I'd hope you save me some." Julian turns with a painful smile that Garak looks up just in time to see. He returns it, his face tight, not sure of the significance of what passes between them, but feeling it nonetheless. He finds south Cardassian currency of a sort that may prove useful which he quickly pockets. There are coordinates, their coordinates he's sure, possibly in the handwriting of the true power behind the scenes, but he cannot be sure.

There's also the matter niggling in the back of his mind pertaining to the transport. If they're from Nyissa then it's quite possible they haven't hired anyone and flown themselves over, or even that a third person is still back with their transport. Well, be that as it may, Elim there's nothing to be done about it now. You'll need to settle this final matter and with an unknown entity in charge of the government on Cardassia, better the Kironide be destroyed as this lot wishes. Wrap it up, leave the bodies for the carrion feeders and work on your next course of action. It gives him a focus at least until he has time to sit down in his room, get completely inebriated, and ponder the direction his life is headed. He stands with a sigh, until now having tuned out whatever hysterical shrieking has begun back and forth between Julian and Nog. Naturally the Ferengi and the human woman have their Starfleet ideals to bleat about, but Julian has decided for once to be blessedly pragmatic. Garak watches Nog throwing the gun across the ground and he silently chastises the potential damaging of a useful weapon.

"They're still back there, Doctor Bashir!" he hears Collins yelling as he goes to retrieve it, and thinks that if anything they ought to go back and make sure that every last one of the potential obstacles is dead. Somehow he thinks in this instance the most logical course of action would go over, to quote a colorful Westworld idiom, like a ton of bricks. Garak examines the weapon, just as Julian informs her under no circumstances are they returning to risk their lives, stopping just short of referring to Watters and his jaunty little band of cronies as the enemy. Determining that it still ought to be perfectly serviceable, but equally determined that it will not be he who is relying on it during a life or death struggle, Garak calmly strolls back over and presents the weapon to Nog.

"I don't need it," Nog grits out at him. "Didn't you hear us, they're all likely dead!" We can only hope...

"We can still go back. Please Nog, Dr. Bashir we can still-"

"Yes, yes, we can be the rough riders storming back onto the scene grandly to save the day," Garak remarks somewhat more caustically than he intended. "However, need I remind you children," He says, the smile never leaving his face as he shoves the weapon back into Nog's reluctant hand, "that this is exactly the outcome that was desired. Better, dare I say than what we could have even hoped for."

He's not certain who opens their mouth first to protest but he holds up a hand, turning around not even deigning to argue with whatever nonsense either of them comes up with. Julian can play the babysitter placating their delicate morals.

"Yes, we all mourn the loss of a great man. We should all take a moment, toast, tip our hats, say a prayer, whatever is the custom here on Westworld for the deceased be they valiant or villain or some combination of both. I assure you there is no one more deeply affected by the untimely passing of dear Captain Watters and the equally beloved Commander Farris than I," he declares as he begins walking.

"Garak," Julian warns and he blithely ignores.

"But be that as it may, though our hearts may be heavy with grief for those who've laid down their lives for the greater good, for the soul of the universe, for the right of a benevolently despotic regime to gently threaten imprisonment and altruistically economically enslave-"

"Garak…" that tone sounds a lot more threatening this time.

"Say it again, my dear… just like that," Garak hisses back at him, and the icy furious stare as Julian realizes that he's playing exactly into that flirting makes Garak straighten up just a little taller as he begins walking in the direction of the caves. At least where he supposes the direction of where the caves lie. It isn't terribly difficult to follow by the direction of the sun and in any case-

"So that's it? We're just going to leave them there?!" Collins is starting to sound near hysterical and a Garak takes a second glance at her uniform covered in both blood and dirt, torn, a large gash on her calf, he supposes the situation only grew worse once that blast called more of the creatures. "We came to you to get help! Nog you can-"

"Dory…" Gary sees Nog swallow hard, and he realizes that in the last few moments that he'd grown quite quiet. "Even if we go back now. We're not going to make it."

"After everything that the Captain has done for us we can't-"

"Everything he's done?! He nearly got us killed on that survey mission. We should have returned after Captain Ramirez was killed, we should have come back to file our report not chasing fame, not risking the lives of the rest of the ship for what?! For the secret weapon against the Dominion?! Do you know how stupid I was?! How pointless this is?! There's no glory, no profit, no justice no nothing! Yes it works! Of course it works but do you know what else it does?! It gives you hoo-mans powers, it gives Ferengi the same powers but at a much higher price and I refuse to let a something like that get into anyone's hands to use against us!" What it does to Ferengi? Garak doesn't miss that little detail and it makes him faintly uneasy thinking of whatever implications it may have for other races. Better, perhaps it's destroyed after all.

"Nog, the Federation would never… Captain Watters isn't… we didn't do this to-" She stops suddenly, and Garak can almost see her as a child clamping two hands over her mouth having said something she clearly was not supposed to. Ah, Elim, if you had ten slips of latinum for every time you've been completely correct about a hunch you'd have long retired a wealthy man.

Nog, while naïve, is certainly not stupid, and Garak can see from a mile away, so to speak, the immediate connection.

"We? Is that what this is? Is this just a game?!" Garak considers as his voice rises to a higher agitated pitch that it may not have been a particularly wise decision to give the weapon back after all. "You, Watters, Farris, all of you, is this all of you in on this, Dory?!" And the rest of the deceased crew I'd imagine as well. What's that poem Julian was half slurring at you the other night? Drink and the devil had done for the rest? Yes, fifteen dead men or in this case going by the math, eight or thereabouts.

"Nog no, of course not! It's not like that at all!" Perhaps they won't be at this long.

"Then what's it like Dory?! Two years! It's been two years that you've been lying to me!" Ah, it would seem not...

"I never lied to you Nog! Not about how I feel! But you don't understand! How could a Ferengi understand anything other than profit and money?! We thought you were going to steal it, Nog! I know you've been tempted-"

"I would never put the lives of every Ferengi in the universe at stake for profit!"

Garak considers the odds of being able to sneak the keys away without notice. The longer the two of them rail at each other, the better the odds of any of those presumed dead reappearing out of the sands like some avenging angel and Garak has frankly had enough of such nonsense to hold him over at least until dinner. Cardassians don't typically sweat like humans, nor do they tend to overheat as such either, but the dry heat is not one of his favorite things without an abundant source of water. At this point, he's even willing to think about resorting to more drastic means just to keep this operation moving along. He has an inkling that Julian has a similar notion, wearing his exasperation far more grandly. Garak sees the drum of fingers to his thigh as he rakes back those thick sweat sticky strands of hair. Yes, that's exactly what you need after the day you've been having, Elim. A nice relaxing drink of kanar and a good thorough drink of Julian to finish it off. Julian however, seems too piqued to acquiesce without a fair bit of baiting but then again, that is the fun of it.

"I must say," Garak begins jovially, only to be cut off viciously with Julian snapping at him like an agitated female regnar in heat.

"So help me, Garak if the next words out of your mouth aren't 'this is going to have to wait until we blow the blasted Kironide to bloody bits'

"I might have said it with a bit less alliteration- I'm afraid the whimsy of your statement belies the gravity of the situation." He almost thinks he sees a small throb in Julian's temple at that and it pleases him to no end.

"Nog!" Julian barks sharply, and Garak feels a pang of disappointment that he's not going to continue their little tête-à-tête. But that rebuke breaks through the tension, both Nog, and Collins looking at him smartly. "Lieutenant Collins, I sympathize. Truly I do, whether you believe me or not. But the three of us are on a mission to destroy this element before it has the chance to be misused by either party in the war. You have your orders but Captain Watters and Commander Farris are presumed dead, and while I've no intention of harming you, I will complete what we've set out to do."

"Beautifully stated," Garak compliments.

Julian ignores him pointedly, but Garak expected as much. Still, expectation does not automatically equally understanding because really, how Julian is holding that little encounter against him when clearly it was his life being threatened by some rogue operatives…

"I would prefer if you gave us the last key, Lieutenant Collins," Julian says in a softer tone. "Whatever concerns you have about your safety, I understand, but I hope you can understand me too. I will not allow my…" Julian doesn't quite continue that sentence with a natural flow. "…my children," His eyes dart up as if some unseen specter might hear that and he turns a pointed look to Nog. "I refuse to allow them to be used as pawns whatever the reason. Whatever noble justification you give yourself." He holds out a hand, and he can see Julian catch her eyes carefully, voice softer, that subtle bit of manipulation at play as he whispers to her softly, gently, "Please... give me the key... place the key in my hand." Garak almost wonders if he ought to be jealous at the ease which she does that, Julian pocketing the key carefully. He looks to Nog next.

Nog doesn't meet his eyes, looking away with a sigh. He looks like he's about to say something before thinking better of it. Garak sees Julian smile almost bitterly.

"Whatever Leeta might have told you, it doesn't work on Ferengi," he says with an unusual distance, and Garak finds something entirely curious about the exchange as Nog hands over the keys.

"I trust you, Doctor Bashir," he says but still doesn't meet those eyes. Julisn sighs, and looks to Garak almost expectantly.

"I don't suppose you're going to be nearly as cooperative." Garak resist the urge to beam back at him brightly. No, scratch that, he really cannot help himself. He throws a brilliant grin Julian's way, sad that he doesn't see that charming glower in return.

"What a completely, obscene thing to suggest, dear Julian," he answers brightly as Julian shakes his head taking the front of their little line.

"Right. I thought as much. Alright Nog, lead the way. The sooner we get this over, the better." And Garak nearly thinks that's the end of it until Julian throws one last little warning his way over his shoulder. "And for God's sake, Garak just don't... don't touch anything and let us handle it." That plea sounds so pitifully desperate that Garak almost considers the disgusting thought of actually doing as he's asked.

"Really, Julian, I find your incessant remonstrations almost offensive," he answers taking note of that doubtful look. As if he's going to end this entire unfortunate expedition without taking just a tiny little sample of the stuff they've all been going mad over. Surely, Nog was overreacting in that hysterical way Ferengi do. What's the worst that could possibly happen? Another migraine? He snorts at that thought, certain that all this hype is completely uncalled for.

Garak has no idea how wrong he's about to be...