Chapter 12: The Wrap Up

. . .

Kai Winn's face appeared on Captain Sisko's computer screen.

"Emissary. This is a most pleasant surprise." Her tone implied the exact opposite.

"How are things going on Bajor?"

"As well as can be expected." She answered and folded her fingers. "What can I do for you?"

"I thought you would like to know that Major Kira was located, and returned safely to the Station."

Her smile faded. "That is excellent news."

"That it is." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "But following questioning by station security, Major Kira reported that a Bajoran PMC fired on one of our runabouts, then left her in an inoperable runabout without life support."

"Yes, I am aware of their activities." She admitted. "I hired them to recover the fugitives and the Orb."

"Why?"

"I felt Bajoran security wasn't up to the task of protecting it." A fake smile spread across her face again.

"As I understand, they nearly destroyed it." And captured who they thought was the Major, and left the fugitives! He wanted to accuse, but his training in diplomacy worked to hold his tongue.

"They must have misunderstood my instructions." Came her simple reply. She thread her fingers together to form a fist and leaned forward. "I am certain Starfleet can afford to replace your Runabout, and I am pleased no one was injured. Do send my regards to the Major."

"I will. I understand the Intendent is now in Bajoran custody?"

"She is. She pled guilty and was charged this morning. She will serve several years in prison followed by community service. Now is there anything else I can help you with, Emissary?"

"That was all."

"Walk with the prophets."

The screen went dark.

In the infirmary, Doctor Julian Bashir gingerly held up a pair of tweezers between thumb and forefinger in victory. "Ahh!" He exclaimed. "A bruised spoon, one snake bite, and thirteen ticks. All removed from your scales. Major Kira didn't have nearly so many - what ever were you doing down there?"

"Chasing down fugitives, breaking up alliances and trying to change the course of history." He said it casually, but the mission had been a breath of fresh air in his otherwise mundane life as a tailor.

"Careful. Say that too loudly and you may receive a visit from Temporal Investigations."

"Investigations?" He asked a touch too cheerfully.

"Dreadful boring process." Julian placed the last tick into a vial of liquid that instantly killed it. "Now, doesn't it bother you to know your other self just got murdered? And burned in a fire of his own making?"

"They didn't find his body." He said cautiously. "If he did perish - which I'm not convinced he did - it would be a relief. To be perfectly honest with you, I am very disappointed in him."

"In his casual disregard for the life of others?" The doctor offered with a sliver of hope.

"In the manner in which he executed his plans, and I find his priorities were disordered."

"Disordered? All he wanted was his son back, don't you feel the least bit sorry for him?"

"He didn't want his son, he wanted his mind." He corrected. "And nearly every task he set to complete ended in failure. Now I ask you, why should I feel bad for him?"

"Because he's you?" Julian saw his expression. "A version of you," He corrected hastily. "I could only imagine the fun I'd have with another one of me running around..."

Garak's scaled brow ridges rose.

"...Reading the latest medical journals, our research would go twice as fast..."

"There isn't anything we could do to justify having another copy of me." Or you, he thought. "He would merely get in the way."

"You could have played kotra together."

"Kotra is a game that requires focus, risk, and careful planning. I doubt a game with him would last five minutes. No, as shameful as his so-called death was, I assure you I am unperturbed." He paused for a second, took in a breath. "Of course, none of this would have happened if you hadn't recklessly left those Ulcartic virus cures laying about."

Julian rolled his eyes at the new round of accusations of aiding the enemy.

"Not this again!"

"It is unfortunate the Major will always have the Intendent to watch out for." Garak gifted him with a change of topic. "Now that her transponder is inoperable, she is stuck here."

Julian nodded in the affirmative and resisted a shudder at the thought of the Intendent returning to the station one day.

"I heard the Bajoran magistrate is lessening the Intendent's sentence. I think they're making a terrible mistake."

"The current Bajoran government is too soft on its criminals. A death sentence is better in these circumstances: Cardassia has the lowest rates of repeat offenders in the quadrant." He saw Julian bristle, and rather than engage in a lengthy defense of Cardassia's justice system, Garak changed course of the conversation once more. "I wanted to thank you for the loan of this novel." He slid the borrowed PADD towards the doctor. "It helped distract me while being cooped up in Odo's cell."

"Oh. It was the least I could do. I assume you found it terrible, as always?" Bashir asked with a smile.

"On the contrary. As much as I dislike human literature in general, I was pleasantly surprised." Garak's eyes sparkled with satisfaction, and he leaned in closer. "As a matter of fact, I'm certain this novel would be enjoyed and widely circulated on Cardassia. I have to wonder why it took you so long to suggest it to me."

Bashir slowly leaned forward, not trusting his ears.

"You actually liked it?" He summarized in disbelief. "Where's my changeling detection kit?"

"Truly, doctor! There I was, alone in Odo's holding cell, trudging through what I thought was yet another anti-establishment novel," He said with a roll of his eyes for emphasis, "-And what do I find at the end, but vindication! The main character finally found his patriotism and love for his government!"

Bashir's expression fell. "Garak, you aren't supposed to be happy with the ending."

"Why not?"

"The Ministry of Love tortures its subjects until they feel genuine love for their State, then kills them. That last scene was the final moment before Winston's execution!"

"I'm fully aware of the character's fate, doctor. His final moments were spent in pure admiration of his government! How is that not an act of love by the ministry? Truly, this was a masterful piece of literature."

Bashir sighed.

"Okay, Garak." Was all he could say, then let out a laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all.

. . .

. . .

The Intendent heard her counterpart approach her cell. She continued to stare at the tawny stone wall. She didn't want to even look at her alternate. She ruminated over the events of the last twenty-six hours. I was so close. How did it all fall apart? Was it only an illusion of time travel?

"I know that look. I know that feeling." Kira said carefully. "I tried to warn you it wouldn't work."

"Come here to gloat, have you? With you out there and me in here." Intendent paused, as if to stop herself from crying. She raised off her cot and sat on the edge of it. "You were right! Is that what you want to hear?" A tragic laugh escaped her lips, and she clasped her hands together. "Are you happy now?"

"Honestly? A little."

"So!" Intendent changed topics. "How's your friend doing?" She leaned back on her elbow and crossed her legs and rocked one foot back and forth, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I hope I didn't damage him too much."

"Oh, he's fine. Takes more than that to phase him. Between you and me, I think he liked it." That was a lie, but prophets forgive her, it felt good to deny the Intendent the satisfaction of reliving their torture session. To the untrained eye, it would have looked as if the Intendent hadn't cared to hear her answer. But Odo was a good teacher, and Kira detected the slightest shift in her counterpart's expression that indicated she had been disappointed in Kira's answer.

"He'll regret his decision not to ally himself with me. They always do. One way or another." She watched Kira take in a controlled breath and felt sated. "You heard I pled guilty to all charges?"

"The magistrate said she will consider lessening your sentence in exchange for community service. I think you should try it."

"Community service is a little below my Djarra, don't you think."

"We don't follow our Djarras anymore."

The Intendent rolled her head back and groaned. "This place keeps getting better and better. And what will Community service do for me?" She asked sarcastically.

"Community service isn't about personal gain. It's about making connections with people, putting down roots, being a part of something bigger than yourself."

The Intendent laughed, but it was cheerless and mocking. "So they're going to try and change me. Make me more like you. An obedient little worker bee. Maybe it'll work." She returned her gaze to the wall. "I'll just have to focus on being receptive to my rehabilitators."

"I think it'll be good for you." Kira said, and was met with silence as a reply.

Kira turned and walked away.

The magistrate is making a mistake. She thought. She had said as much, but in the end it was the magistrate's decision and not hers. There was nothing else to be said. Though she had left the jail cell, she thought she had heard the Intendent's voice echo off the walls.

"I'll see you soon, Nerys."

. . .

EPILOGUE

. . .

Glinn Udek slapped his neck and grunted with the impact. "I hate Bajor. And I hate mosquitoes! Why are we here?!"

"I already told you." Gul Dukat answered in irritation.

"Bajoran Artifacts." The Glinn repeated. "So you've said. But why are we really here?"

"Bajoran Artifacts." Dukat repeated more calmly. "The Vedeks have been evacuated from this place. The fire has burned past the area. Now is the perfect time to search the grounds for them before anyone returns."

"Cardassians don't believe in their religion, why do you need these things?"

Gul Dukat lifted a finger. "You may not believe in them, but Bajorans do. Wielding their religious icons grants us power." He explained as if speaking to a small child. "And I need these artifacts to complete my work."

"What kind of artifact are you looking for this time?"

"A blade. Like the one on the mural you saw when we entered." He paused, observing the Glinn had begun to rummage through random items in the darker crevices of the tunnels beneath the Iponu temple. Normally, he would have stood watch at the door and let Dukat do the searching.

"You're actually engaged in helping me find them, now?"

"If it gets me away from those mosquitoes."

"Terrible things." Dukat grinned handsomely. "I much preferred Terok Nor to Bajor for that reason alone."

Udek spotted the object Dukat was looking for, resting atop a wooden shelf so old that it had disintegrated and buried the blade under a mound of what looked like loose soil. He slid his finger across the blade's edge, cutting his finger but also dispelling centuries of dust and grime. "Is this what you're looking for?"

"Ahhhh," Dukat exhaled and lifted the blade gingerly. He rubbed the edge of the blade, also nicking his own finger. "it's still sharp!" He admired how the metal shone where the grit had been rubbed away.

"Is this where you sacrifice me to the Cope Emotion by stabbing me with it?"

Dukat laughed. "Kosst-Amojan." He corrected. "Not to worry. It isn't your blood this blade thirsts for."

"Color me relieved." Udek scanned the ceiling of the tunnel. "Can't believe a civilization capable of space travel were still engaging in pointless sacrifices. Boggles the mind!"

"Cardassia could learn a thing or two from Bajor."

"Like what."

Something caught Dukat's eye at the far end of the tunnel. "That there are forces at work beyond your shallow understanding..." He approached cautiously and slowly, until he stood over the body of a Cardassian who looked exactly like his sworn familial enemy. He knelt down to one knee, lest his eyes had been playing tricks on him.

Elim lay unconscious, arm wrapped around his midsection. There was a hole in his armor that had been burned through with a phaser. It looked as though he had crawled into the tunnel in a desperate bid to escape the fire.

"Who is that?"

"I heard about this one!" Dukat couldn't prevent his mouth from opening in surprise. "But why did the Kosst-Amojan send you to me?" He whispered so quietly that Glinn Udek failed to hear.

In the depths of the moist dark of the old Kosst-Amojan tunnels and sacrificial chamber, Gul Dukat cautiously felt for a pulse.