DS9: Book by its Cover Chapter Three
Garak, stood concealed behind the racks of clothing in his clothes shop, observed with a mix of disdain and curiosity as the station's new chief medical officer bumbled past his shop front. The human-looking man exuded an air of cheerfulness, nodding, smiling, and waving to anyone who crossed his path. It was almost comical, reminiscent of those disgusting creatures Garak had read about: terrible, slobbering things. Ah, yes, puppies. The doctor resembled an overgrown puppy, unleashed and exploring the station with unbridled enthusiasm.
Never one to pass up an opportunity for valuable information, Garak discreetly inquired around the station about the intriguing doctor. The most enticing titbit came from none other than Quark, the gossipy Ferengi bartender. Quark, eager to share his knowledge, leaned in and whispered to Garak with a conspiratorial tone, revealing that the good doctor was not just an ordinary augment but, in fact, a Remnant.
Garak expertly concealed the spark of intrigue in his eyes, his nonchalant demeanour contrasting sharply with the keen interest he felt, a masterful act to pique Quark's curiosity even more. The Ferengi, unable to resist the lure of a juicy secret, spilled the details. The lieutenant was indeed a Remnant—a piece of news that truly intrigued Garak. His keen mind immediately recognised the potential significance of this revelation, though he carefully concealed his true feelings.
As a seasoned operative of the Obsidian Order, Garak saw an opportunity in this information. It occurred to him that this Remnant might be the key to ending his exile. The Cardassian's had quickly discerned the humans' biases against genetic modification, labelling such individuals as augments. While the Cardassian High Command hadn't paid much attention to these human prejudices, the whispers of 'Augment Remnants' during the twenty-year conflict between the Federation and Cardassia had caught their ears.
Every defeat suffered by Cardassian military forces had been conveniently attributed to these elusive Remnants. Even Tain, the head of the Obsidian Order, had tried various methods to gather intelligence on these mysterious beings, but all attempts had ended in failure. Agents either returned empty-handed or didn't return at all, leaving the Remnants shrouded in mystery. Now, with the knowledge that one such Remnant walked the halls of Deep Space Nine, Garak couldn't help but see the potential for a game-changing move.
A wry smile played on Garak's lips, the thrill of unravelling mysteries a delightful game for the clandestine operative. His mind eagerly anticipated the moves yet to be made. An intrigue that might brighten the monotonous days he found himself trapped in.
Garak, ever the clandestine operative, had dedicated some time to his speciality—hacking into Star Fleet records. Garak's fingers danced over the controls, his mind calculating each move as he wove through the intricate layers of Star Fleet security. The thrill of the challenge sent a shiver down his spine. He adeptly navigated through the digital labyrinth until he found the file on the station's new chief medical officer, Doctor Julian Bashir. As the information unfolded before him, Garak couldn't help but revel in the thrill of the challenge.
The file revealed that Julian's mother was Amsha Bashir, and his father remained unknown. Garak couldn't help but ponder the mysterious figure in Julian's lineage, wondering if the elusive father was another Remnant. The potential connections and implications intrigued him. Surely there could be no other explanation, Garak wondered, this mysterious male parent must also be a Remnant. The elusive nature of these Remnants proved to be an ongoing frustration for Garak, as well as Cardassian Central Command, but he relished the challenge they presented.
A wry smile played on Garak's lips; he enjoyed delving into the unknown, especially when it involved unravelling the secrets of enigmatic individuals.
As Garak continued his perusal of the file, he discovered that Doctor Bashir was a mere 27 years old and had been exposed as a Remnant by his stepfather, Richard Bashir. This information triggered a spark of interest in Garak. Weaknesses were opportunities, and the revelation by a family member could potentially be exploited.
The file further detailed Julian's exemplary academic record—consistently ranking first or second in all his Star Fleet classes. However, Garak was momentarily taken aback when he discovered a peculiar prohibition. With an arched brow, he mused over Star Fleet's curious decision. Were they blinded by their own biases, or did they have a more subtle strategy in mind? The puzzle fascinated him, why exactly had Star Fleet barred the young doctor from enrolling in any strategic classes, not even basic self-defence. It seemed pointless to him.
Garak was baffled by Star Fleet's shortsightedness. Did they truly believe withholding military strategy education would prevent a Remnant from seeking training elsewhere? His contemplative expression deepened as he considered the potential consequences of underestimating the capabilities of such genetically enhanced individuals.
The Federation jealously guarded its knowledge on Remnants from outsiders. But from the little Garak knows about Earth history, the Remnants were already organised enough to band together and defeat Khan's forces in 2052. That was three hundred years ago. In Garak's estimation, the Remnants would only have become more organised, not less. Especially with the Federations blatant prejudice against them.
Garak suspected if the Remnants wanted Julian Bashir trained, then he would be trained
Leaning back in his dimly lit room, Garak let the sparse light cast shadows across his contemplative expression. The revelation puzzled him. Were the prejudices of Star Fleet so blinding that they neglected to equip this young Remnant with the skills to defend himself? Did they fail to recognise the valuable asset that Doctor Bashir represented?
Garak, who was well-versed in the strategic games of various factions, knew personally that even the Romulans harboured a keen interest in Remnants, with their own clandestine plots in place to acquire one. A self-satisfied smirk played on Garak's lips as he ruminated on the intricate web of secrets he continued to unravel.
From his vantage point, Garak found himself in an opportune position. The young Remnant, Doctor Julian Bashir, appeared to be an ideal subject—devoid of self-defence training, eyed warily by his Star Fleet colleagues, and seemingly isolated. His wide, earnest smiles and eager nods were reminiscent of a puppy's enthusiastic greeting, as if every encounter was an exciting new adventure, an aspect of his character that could work in Garak's favour.
Garak had been discreetly observing the doctor since he arrived on station. As the doctor roamed the promenade, seeking companionship with an almost desperate enthusiasm. He engaged in conversations with anyone willing to reciprocate, and his flirtatious demeanour spared no one with a pulse.
Garak had made sure to capture the young doctor's attention around the station. He smiled to himself as he remembered the young man side longs looks and the blushes that suffused his face at being caught looking. Garak felt the barest tingle in his eye ridges when he notice the doctors dule look of intrigue and alarm.
Garak, standing at his window, kept a keen eye on the unfolding interactions. The doctor's soft, brown features were a stark contrast to the elegance and power associated with Cardassian males. The unruly curls of his hair piqued Garak's interest, a rare sight among Cardassian's who never possessed natural curls without meticulous styling. The human's expressions were open and unguarded, revealing a vulnerability that intrigued the Cardassian operative.
A calculating look settled on Garak's features as he observed Julian engaged in conversation with a shopkeeper farther down the mezzanine. A subtle uncertainty in Julian's gaze as he conversed with others, a vulnerability that promised potential avenues for manipulation. The contrast between the two species, their differences in demeanour and appearance, fuelled Garak's curiosity. In his experienced eyes, he detected a potential vulnerability—a weakness that could be exploited.
Seduction was another specialty of Garak's, and the good doctor seemed ripe for such manipulation. The prospect of a delicate dance of intrigue and seduction loomed enticingly in Garak's mind. The prospect of weaving his web of intrigue around Julian Bashir, ensnaring him in a delicate dance of secrets and hidden agendas, was an opportunity Garak found impossible to resist.
LunchAs Garak observed the young lieutenant, he marvelled at the seemingly ordinary demeanour of this supposed super soldier. Timing his exit from the tailor shop to coincide with Julian's lunch break, Garak executed his plan with precision. Flipping the sign from 'open' to 'gone to lunch,' he strolled out casually, engaging in small talk with various acquaintances to maintain an appearance of nonchalance.
Arriving at the Replimat, Garak ordered his preferred fruit juice and a simple mid-day meal. Garak observed the lieutenant, immersed in his pad, sat at a table, unaware of the tailor's approach. Garak couldn't help but marvel at the irony of the situation – the Federation's feared super soldier engrossed in his lunch, seemingly defenceless.
Observing the young officer, Garak questioned the validity of Starfleet's concerns. Was this unassuming figure truly the cause of such apprehension? In a dramatic gesture, Garak theatrically coughed, startling the doctor out of his concentration. The lieutenant, with a jump, looked up, meeting Garak's enigmatic smile with a mixture of surprise and alarm.
"Ahh, Doctor Bashir, I presume. May I join you?" Garak smoothly invited, claiming a seat before the young doctor could react. Garak continued, adopting an amiable tone designed to disarm the human. "I'm Garak, Cardassian by birth, as you can see and the sole representative on this station," he revealed, noting the alarm in Julian's eyes. "It's why I am always pleased to make new friends," Garak says with feigned innocence.
"Yes, I know," Julian stammered, his face taking on a delightful pink hue as he realised, he had just revealed that he had been gossiping about the Cardassian. Garak couldn't help but revel in the success of his calculated intrusion. The doctor's reactions were unfolding precisely as Garak had envisioned, adding a satisfying layer of control to the situation.
With a smug smile, Garak seized the opportunity to further unsettle the young doctor. "Ah, I see my fame as a tailor has preceded me," he remarked, relishing the easy manipulation. "Oh, er, yes, you're a tailor," Julian mumbled, clearly flustered by Garak's unexpected attention. The stage was set for the intricate dance between the charming Cardassian and the unsuspecting doctor.
The doctor was obviously unsettled by Garak's sudden appearance at his lunch table, his jerky motions and stilted smiles gave him away. "Ah, er, I have heard some people say that you only remained on the station to be the eyes and ears of the Cardassian government," Julian stuttering and blushing managed to say.
"You don't say," Garak said with wide eyed delight. And it was a delight looking at the young doctor's facial contortions. "Doctor, you are not intimating that I am some sort of spy, are you?" he queries innocently.
"No, no, I wouldn't know sir," Julian anxiously replies. "Ah! I can see you have an open mind, the essence of intellect," Garak flatters. A subtle twitch in Julian's brow, a hesitant smile; Garak absorbed every nuance of the doctor's physical reactions. It was a dance, and Garak was orchestrating the steps with precision, leading Julian through a performance of vulnerability.
Deciding it was time to make his move. Garak leans forward conspiratorially, his sharp eyes scanning the Replimat as if he's about to divulge a classified secret. The ambient hum of conversations creates a perfect cover for their discussion. Lowering his voice to a near-whisper, he remarks, "I have heard that you are an Augment," punctuating the revelation with a dramatic look around the bustling establishment. Then, with another theatrical glance over his shoulder, he continues in an even quieter voice, forcing Julian to lean forward to catch every word. "In fact, an actual Remnant?"
As Garak studies the doctor's face, expecting a certain level of denial or evasion, he is taken aback by the resigned expression that meets his gaze. The doctor surprises him even further by not only confirming the information but doing so in a manner that doesn't align with the expected caution or discretion. Julian, instead of maintaining secrecy, sighs audibly, leans back in his chair, and candidly admits, "Oh yes, it's true. I am a Remnant."
Garak shoots a subtle glance around the Replimat, realising that the doctor's loud acknowledgment has caught the attention of several patrons. It's not the ideal scenario Garak had envisioned for such a delicate revelation. Sensing the need to regain control, he subtly shifts his focus back to his lunch, taking calculated sips of his juice, while contemplating how to navigate this unexpected turn.
Undeterred by the audience now keenly following their exchange, Julian leans forward once again, resting his arms on the table before him. With a guileless expression, his warm hazel eyes convey a deceptive honesty. "I should warn you, Mr. Garak," Julian says, his voice carrying a quiver of some deep emotion, "that I am the most dangerous and cunning foe you will ever meet. It's true, you see, I am a genetically engineered super soldier, and I definitely shouldn't be trusted." Breaking eye contact, Julian lets his gaze wander over the busy promenade, as if grappling with the weight of his own revelation.
Somewhat alarmed by this unexpected emotional turn, Garak hadn't prepared for an overemotional human, and the lack of an exit strategy for such a situation leaves him momentarily unsettled. While internally recalibrating, Garak externally remained the picture of composure. Sips of his juice and calculated bites of his meal served as a deliberate cover, allowing him time to gather his thoughts and maintain an air of indifference.
Choosing to buy time and gather his thoughts, Garak resumes eating his lunch, taking occasional sips of his juice, all the while maintaining a composed facade.
Finally regaining his composure, the doctor rose from his seat, prompting Garak to do the same. Garak, ever the master of poise, laid a friendly hand on the doctor's shoulder. Julian's immediate reaction was a mix of startlement, alarm, and undeniable intrigue as he looked at Garak, now in close proximity. "Well, I am not afraid, good doctor. I am sure in the very near future we will be the closest of friends," Garak said with a final flirtatious smile.
"As you may know I have a clothing shop close by. Please do come in if you need any new apparel. Or if like me, you desire some agreeable company, I am at your disposal," Garak ensures to hold the doctors eye contact a little too long, a little too intense. "Yes, thank you Mr Garak, you are very kind," The doctor quickly says.
"I am so pleased to have met you Doctor, so glad to have made a new friend," to punctuate his words, he added a not-so-subtle caress of the doctor's shoulder. Garak was delighted when he felt a shiver travel through the doctor's body.
Stepping closer to the doctor, Garak leans in and gently whispers seductively "It's just plain simple Garak, Doctor. Good day."
Leaving the hotly blushing doctor behind, Garak strolled away, leaving him to nervously gather the debris from their unexpected lunch date. As a parting gift, Garak revelled in the satisfaction of a job well done when the doctor, now flustered, dropped a fork from his nerveless fingers. The sudden clatter drew the attention of other patrons, and the doctor stumbled through an apology.
While Garak left the scene, he couldn't linger in the afterglow of his small triumph. Unlike a government-employed operative, he had to hustle back to his shop and reopen it promptly. The thought of the necessity of earning money left a bitter taste in his mouth as he flipped the sign back to "open."
Seated comfortably behind his counter, Garak reflected on the encounter with the doctor. "A good start," he thought to himself. As he recalled the doctor's words about being "the most dangerous and cunning foe," Garak couldn't help but release a soft chuckle. If only the doctor knew what true cunning and danger meant. Enabran Tain, his own father, held that title in Garak's eyes. He mused on the irony of the situation.
Just as he settled into his thoughts, the shop door chimed open, announcing the arrival of a regular customer—one who was meticulous about paying bills on time and thus couldn't be ignored.
The immediate reminder of his financial needs prompted Garak to plaster on his fake customer service smile as he went to attend to the familiar face. The intrigue of a potential friendship with the doctor lingered in the back of his mind as he engaged in the mundane transaction.
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