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DS9 - I think I'm just having fun making everyone miserable in this one. [4/5]
Title: Held
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Action/Pre-slash
Rating & Warnings: PG (references to torture; panic attack; innuendo)
Betas: tinsnip and Yosie
Words: This part 4500, approximately 16 000 overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: "...[T]he dictator is merely the tip of the whole festering boil of social pus from which dictators emerge; shoot one, and there’ll be another one along in a minute." - Terry Pratchett. Approximately six weeks after The Circle's fall from power, a fragment of the organisation returns to lash out against the only Cardassian living on Deep Space Nine. What they didn't anticipate, however, was being interrupted mid-abduction. This chapter: The senior staff on DS9 continue attempts to rescue Julian and Garak, and Garak's condition worsens.
Author's Notes: I don't have a whole lot to say about this chapter, actually. Mostly it's a continuation of the things I've played with in earlier chapters--and, of course, me insisting on making things worse.
On a side note, though, anyone who catches the tiny little Vienna Teng reference in this gets a whole batch of cookies.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
A very small corner of O'Brien's mind, the only corner not bearing down on unscrambling the location of that blasted signal, found time to be grateful that Commander Sisko had decided to assign Lieutenant Dax to him. As much as he liked his superior officers, anyone else and he'd be snapping the sorts of things that got a man demoted. It was hard to snap at Dax, though. She was just so—serene. Probably came from being older than all their grandmothers put together.
Whatever the reason, it was a good thing for him—the only good thing he'd run into since this whole damned mess had begun.
The sound of boots on metal caught his attention, and O'Brien took his hands from the circuitry before looking up. No sense in making things worse through carelessness.
"How's it going?" Major Kira asked as she swung down the ladder.
"Not good," Dax answered for them. "We have the signal isolated to either the second or third moon of Bajor, but we're having trouble getting more specific than that."
"And since both moons were popular hideouts for rebels during the Occupation. . . ." the Major began.
He didn't need to finish her sentence, but he did it anyway. "It's not much help, is it?"
"If you can whittle it down further, I've got a list of terrorist arrests made in the last six months—I thought it wouldn't hurt to be thorough," she added. "The Constable should be ready with his own information soon. We have another thirty minutes before The Circle calls again."
Thirty damned minutes to pinpoint a signal that could be coming from literally anywhere on a couple of moons. Oh, there was nothing to that. Couldn't be easier!
Obviously, he wasn't about to say that aloud—though his face probably did all the talking for him. Instead, he asked, "Isn't there some way you or the Commander could stall them and buy us a little time?"
"We can try, but they're probably expecting it," Kira answered. No guesses needed as to how likely she thought their chances of success would be. "They know we'll be trying to find them. They're going to do everything they can to minimize their transmission time."
"Suppose we'd better get to work, then," O'Brien said on a sigh.
"I'll be back in twenty minutes with the Constable's information." Kira climbed the ladder again and left.
He was about to turn back to his work, but before he could, he felt a hand on his arm. He glanced back to see Dax giving him a soothing smile.
"Don't worry, Miles," she said. "We'll find Julian, and Garak, too. They'll be fine."
O'Brien attempted to smile back, though he was willing to bet it looked horrible. Dr. Bashir was a nuisance and no mistake, but that didn't mean he deserved to be plucked off the station and held against his will by a bunch of terrorists. Even if they were telling the truth about returning him unharmed, he couldn't imagine a xenophobic bunch like them would make life too pleasant for any Human in their gentle arms—especially a Human with the habit of mouthing off.
As for Garak . . . . He was none too fond of the Cardassians, it was true, but if The Circle was planning on doing to him half of what the Cardassians did during the Occupation, he felt sorry for the man. It was a bloody awful way to go no matter who you were.
All he said in response, however, was, "I hope you're right, Lieutenant." He turned his gaze back to the communications circuitry and sighed. "Let's see what miracles we can work in the next twenty minutes."
*
Julian could still feel his fingers, and frankly, that worried him. He could see the tendons standing out on the back of Garak's hand from the effort of keeping his grip at a normal pressure. If he didn't know better, he would think they were on the verge of flying apart. He'd have much preferred to have his hand crushed, but he could hardly say as much to Garak—his friend would not react well. He couldn't afford that. Not when Garak's tendons weren't all that seemed on the verge of severing.
"Garak, I want you to breathe with me. We're going to count our breaths."
His voice was soft, even softer than usual, in reaction to Garak's decreasing control over his own volume. It was a deficiency the other man demonstrated with his next words.
"Why? I'm not one of your patients, Doctor, and I fail to see what good it will do!"
"I believe in practicing preventative medicine," he replied calmly. "And it will serve as a break from me rambling on—I'm beginning to run out of things to say. Unless you'd like me to dictate to you the report on that sample data I was supposed to have finished by now, of course."
He received no answer but Garak's too-quick, raspy breaths.
"Come on. Let's go. One. . . ."
He took in a slow, even breath through his nose, listening for Garak. The other man's breathing was jerky and fast, but he didn't let himself be concerned. It was only the first breath.
When he breathed out, through his mouth, this time, Garak was better able to copy him. He made certain to breathe out just a little longer than he breathed in. The last thing he wanted was for Garak's breathing to turn into tension, or worse, hyperventilation.
"Two. . . ."
It took dozens of breath, but gradually, Julian could actually see Garak come down from the peak of his panic attack to something a little more manageable. He hardly had time to relax himself, though, when Garak averted his head.
"I'm making quite the fool of myself here. I'm sorry you've had to witness me being so—irrational." His voice dropped and he muttered, "I just have to focus. Fear has no place in an ordered mind. If I only—"
"Garak," Julian interrupted firmly. If he let that go on, Garak would talk himself to pieces and undo all their work. "It's all right. There's no shame in being afraid. Everyone is afraid of something, and if they claim they aren't, they're lying."
"There's shame if your foolish, childish fear makes you a liability in a very dire situation indeed." Garak's voice grew louder with every word. "Don't patronize me, Doctor. I know full well how terribly I'm embarrassing myself and I don't need you to lie to me to spare my feelings!"
Julian forced himself to keep a level tone. "This kind of talk isn't helping. Let's go back and do a little more breathing."
"Why?" Garak demanded. "It isn't doing any good!"
"Because I say so!"
Julian closed his eyes for a moment. When he spoke next, his voice was soft again. "Let's just . . . breathe for a while. Where were we again?"
Garak's head lowered; when he spoke again, it was clear his anger had been extinguished. "Forty-three."
"Right. Forty-four. . . ."
*
Sisko waited for Dax and O'Brien to appear from the engineering pit before beginning to speak—but only just. The moment both of O'Brien's feet were on the floor of ops, that was it. There was no time left for even a delay as brief as waiting for him to reach the table.
"We have five minutes before The Circle is due to contact us. I hope this hour was a productive one."
"It was for us. Major Kira and I were able to find a pattern to the arrests made on terrorism charges over the past half a year," Odo reported. "There was a spike in arrests made on the planet right around the time of the official dissolution of the organization, but the last three have all been on Bajor's second and third moons."
"Even if Bajor itself was the main focus of operations during the Occupation, there was still a lot going on out on the moons," Kira added. "They're all thick with caves—it's the perfect place to hide. You're only likely to get caught if you come up to the surface for supplies."
"Which is how the three most recent terrorists were caught," Odo finished. "Unfortunately, they were spread out over a large enough area that we didn't have time to work out where they were hiding."
"I see. Thank you, Major, Constable." It was a start—but at this point, that wasn't enough. He glanced over to where Dax and the Chief were standing. "What about the two of you? Any luck?"
"Some." Dax's voice was as level as ever as she went on, but she didn't look happy. "We can confirm that The Circle is definitely operating out of the second or possibly third moon, but we can't narrow it down any further. The moons were in conjunction when The Circle first contacted us, so while we're pretty certain the message was transmitted from the second moon, we can't be positive."
"I'll get down in the pit, sir," O'Brien volunteered. "I know it's a long shot, but if you can keep them talking for a while, I should be able to pinpoint where the signal's coming from."
"Do it." Sisko gave a sharp nod. "They'll be hailing us any minute."
O'Brien strode back to the pit ladder; almost as soon as his feet clanged against the metal flooring, the station computer alerted them to a hail. Dax quickly resumed her post.
"Onscreen."
As the viewer flicked into operation, the same trio of robed figures as before appeared—or at least, Sisko assumed they were the same. With their features so well disguised, it would be impossible to be sure, and since only their leader had spoken the last time, he had no way of confirming the identities of the other two. It made pinning down their numbers difficult, which was no doubt the entire point.
Their backdrop was different this time, though he couldn't tell whether that was from a slightly different transmitter angle or a complete change of location. All he knew was the bulbous rock spire behind the Circle member to his left hadn't been in view before.
(It was a strange thing to be thinking, but he found himself understanding how frustrated the Cardassians had become when dealing with the Bajoran Resistance over the decades of the Occupation. The Circle was far too skilled at erasing any and all details he might use to determine even the most basic information about them, and even after such a short period of time, it was more than beginning to wear on him.)
"It's been one hour, Commander." The leader's voice was familiar, at least—it was the same woman as before. "Have you made your decision?"
Sisko released his hands from behind his back to spread them before him, palms out. It was a gesture he knew many Humans and Bajorans shared: an indication that the speaker was not a threat. "I'm afraid I've run into a little trouble with that. You see, Starfleet has a very specific set of protocols for dealing with hostage situations. I've been in contact with Starfleet Headquarters and they've given Dr. Bashir's return top priority, but matters have been complicated by the abduction of a non-Federation citizen from a station where the Federation has been given jurisd—"
"We don't care about your internal politics," the leader cut him off. "You can set up the details on your own time. They're not our concern. Now, do you want your doctor back or not?"
Damn. The leader was too intelligent to be drawn into a long conversation. At the rate things were going, he wasn't sure how much more time he could give O'Brien. Still, he had to keep trying to delay.
Before he could reply, however, Kira slipped in ahead of him with one of her incredulous laughs.
"Commander, I've been telling you for the last hour—take their offer! They're giving you Dr. Bashir back unharmed. What else is there to discuss?"
. . . Now that was interesting. Kira hadn't been telling him anything over the last hour—he'd been shut up in his office, arguing with a series of provisional government officials. And she certainly wasn't one to give up, either, even on a job she disliked.
Sisko turned to face her, letting himself frown. "That may be so, but there's still the matter of Mr. Garak."
"He's a Cardassian! Let Cardassia worry about him." When he remained silent, she gave him a look that didn't stop short of insubordination. "Don't pretend you're going to lose any sleep over him. The Federation spent decades fighting the Cardassians—you can't tell me that's all been forgotten in two years!"
Sisko's gaze dropped. "That may be the case, but. . . ."
"Do what they're telling you, Commander," Kira pressed. "You stand to gain a hell of a lot more than you'll lose."
He counted one, two, three . . . then lifted his head and addressed the figures on the viewscreen. "All right. But you had better keep your promise that Dr. Bashir will be returned to us in perfect condition."
"Of course." The leader's mask tilted upward slightly; her tone was smug. "We'll rendezvous with you in orbit above the southern hemisphere of the third moon of Bajor XI in three hours. In return, you're not to pursue us in any way or fire on us, or the deal is off. Understood?"
Sisko nodded once, the movement slow and small. Even before he had lifted his head again, the transmission cut out.
He spent no time contemplating the empty viewer but immediately turned to Kira. "I hope you have a plan, Major, because otherwise you've put us in a very difficult situation."
"I do." Kira met his gaze. "I recognize the cave they're in."
His brows flew up. "You're certain of that?"
"Positive." She smiled a bit. Behind them, Sisko could hear O'Brien emerging from the engineering pit. "To be honest with you, Commander, while being in the Resistance was exciting when you were fighting Cardassians or fleeing for your life, there was a lot of sitting around caves, staring at rocks. Some rocks, you got to know really well . . . like the one on the viewer just now."
He believed her—they'd built up a lot of trust over the past year—but still, he had to ask: "What was so memorable about that one in particular? It looked like just another rock to me."
“If you look at it from the right angle, it looks just like Kai Opaka,” she answered. “The nose is a little big, and her cap is a bit crooked, but aside from that, it's the spitting image. When Lupaza pointed it out to us, we couldn't believe it.”
Sisko tried to recall the rock in the viewer image, mentally setting the Kai's face alongside it. “. . . I'll take your word for it.”
Kira shifted her balance to her other foot a bit awkwardly, her hand coming up to rest on her hip. “We . . . had been staring at an awful lot of rocks at that point.”
“I don't doubt it.”
He looked about at his staff, his smile fading into something a little graver. "Kira, you and O'Brien are going to be responsible for retrieving Dr. Bashir and Garak. What can you tell me about the entrances to the cave system, Major?"
"There are quite a few of them and none are obvious—it's probably why The Circle chose the location as their new base," she reported. All evidence of previous awkwardness had been excised from her manner. "I'd be surprised if they had the numbers to guard them all. There's entrance in particular I'm thinking of that's a couple of kilometres from the main area they may not know about yet. It would be ideal for getting in without them noticing us."
"Then that's where I want you to touch down." He shifted his gaze to O'Brien. "Chief, I want you to disguise the warp signature of the shuttle. They may have the capability to monitor the traffic above their base. Dax, you'll pilot them in and then fly out of sensor range—but not communication range."
"Got it. It'll be tricky, but we'll manage," she promised him.
"Good." He surveyed the others once again. "This may be tight. Make sure you prepare yourselves. We're not looking for a fight, but The Circle may want to give us one anyway. They might still have weaponry left over from when the Cardassians were supplying them, so be careful."
"We will be, sir," Kira answered, but it was clear she was speaking for all of them. Seeing the determination in every single expression around him, Sisko couldn't be prouder. He may have taken this post reluctantly, but now he wouldn't trade it or one person before him for anything anyone could offer.
"Good. That's what I want to hear. And one last thing," he added when it seemed everyone was ready to depart. "Kira, before you make your preparations, I'd like you to point out the location of these caves on a map so Odo and I can alert the provisional government to have the militia on standby." He smiled. "The Circle is about to have a lot more to do than stare at oddly-shaped rocks. Dismissed."
*
Telling the time in a cave after an unknown period of unconsciousness was impossible. It felt, though, as if it had been hours, during which he had done nothing more than sit in the dark in this damned cave and keep Garak's panic attack as manageable as possible. His lack of means to help his friend was growing more frustrating—was in fact well on its way to infuriating—as the few options he had grew steadily less effective.
He wasn't sure how much longer slow breathing was going to work. He wasn't sure how useful rambling at Garak was going to be a second time, but he was going to hope it did something, because it was all he had.
. . . And then there was the soft, still-distant sound of boots on grit.
Ordinarily, Julian would wait a moment or two before drawing to the attention of others what he had heard. But with the disparity between Human and Cardassian hearing and the state Garak was in, he doubted he was going to be questioned on the matter.
"Garak," he whispered.
Garak didn't react. His eyes stayed closed tight and his breathing pattern did not change.
"Garak." He squeezed his friend's hand. "There's someone coming."
That did get a response. Garak opened his eyes and turned his head, and against his arm, Julian could feel him drawing himself up from his slump.
His voice was low and ragged when he spoke. "Our captors at last?"
"I don't know. I can't tell." He couldn't even be sure they weren't simply passing by. The acoustics of the cave were making it extremely difficult to work out anything—except that there must be several tunnels nearby to distort the sound so.
Garak closed his eyes again; Julian felt him tense and his grip on his hand hardened. Then, with a horrible weariness, he said, "It seems it's time to make a few introductions. How delightful."
It took obvious effort for Garak to stand, and just as much effort for Julian not to help him. He knew, though, that to show any concern, any pity now would have a terrible effect upon not only Garak's ability to present his facade, but also upon their friendship.
And so he tucked his worries away and tried not to feel it so acutely when Garak let go of his hand for the first time since Julian had taken it all that time ago. In the last few moments before their company arrived, he flexed his cramped and empty hand by his side and out of the corner of his eye, he caught Garak doing the same. The evidence of their shared sensation brought a faint smile to his lips.
It lasted only until a masked figure in a burgundy cloak stepped into view.
The person was solidly built, their uniform stretching across their shoulders and thick arms, and they carried a small light. After all his time in the dark, it was enough to make him squint his eyes against its dull glow, and he winced at how much worse it would be for Garak's more sensitive eyes.
But that was enough of that line of thought. He refused to let this Circle member direct the conversation, and nor was he about to make Garak do any more talking than he had to when frankly it was a miracle he could even stand calmly. It was up to him to take control.
"Well, there you are!" He locked his hands behind his back. "I was beginning to think we'd been left here to rot. Just what do you think you're doing, abducting a Federation officer and a resident of Deep Space Nine like this?"
"We regret the necessity of taking you, Doctor." The voice of the Circle member was higher in pitch than he had expected, and he mentally adjusted his assumptions. "We had no desire to involve you in this matter. Regardless, you will not be involved for much longer. We have just concluded negotiations with Commander Sisko for your release."
When she didn't go on, when her last words hung in the dead air, he stared at her. He could feel his pulse beating him, could hear it, at what she didn't say.
"And?" The word ripped from him, one syllable violent with betrayal.
"My dear doctor, I don't know why you were expecting anything else."
Julian snapped his head around to where Garak stood, chin raised, offering them detached amusement.
"The Circle would never agree to give me up. I'm sure your commander saw the life of one Cardassian as a rather unfortunate but ultimately acceptable trade to make for the safe return of his chief medical officer."
His voice was calm and measured, and it was a lie as fine as any he'd ever spun. To the Circle member, he would surely sound nothing more than inconvenienced, but Julian knew Garak. The man was one of his few close friends on DS9, and he could tell from light years away how much this was costing him. Oh, certainly the words were right and so was the vocabulary. But the inflections were misplaced and unfamiliar, as if a stranger were impersonating Garak. The stranger had captured the words, but not the man.
"Commander Sisko—"
. . . would never sacrifice the life of anyone on his station for the sake of expediency.
Before Garak could react, Julian seized his hand again, wove their fingers together with no gentleness. He brought his checked anger back into his voice, but drew it this time not from betrayal but the knowledge of what the person in front of him had planned for Garak.
"Commander Sisko is just going to have to go back to the bargaining table." He lifted his chin to stare down at their captor in imitation of Garak. "Either Garak and I leave together, or I'm staying right here with him."
"Doctor, don't be foolish." He felt his hand jerk and glanced over just long enough to watch Garak make a second attempt to free himself. His façade was abruptly wavering; his voice had lost much of its force.
Julian held on all the tighter.
"Do what they say!" Garak urged. "You don't know what you're signing up for, but believe me, I do."
Garak was right: he didn't know. But thinking of what The Circle intended for Garak, however uncertain his knowledge might be, increased his resolution instead of sapping it.
"I don't care."
He was shaking, but from adrenaline, not fear. If the force field hadn't been separating them, he would have taken on the Circle member before him right then and there, so exhilarated was he with his defiance.
The expression of the woman was impossible to determine and her body language was difficult to discern, but her disbelief rang through the cave. "Why are you rejecting your chance to escape for his sake?"
"Because he's my friend," he shot back. "So you can go tell your leaders that you have to reopen negotiations with Commander Sisko, because I'm not going anywhere."
There was a long silence as the echo of his final words faded away, and Julian was certain he'd scored a victory.
But then the woman spoke again. "You will be released to the Federation, willing or unwilling. It makes no difference to us."
Before Julian could gather himself for another attack, she turned and walked away, taking her lamp with her.
A shudder shook against his dampened hand, and he was just in time to stop Garak from walking straight into the force field in pursuit of the light.
"Steady, there, Garak." With care, he pulled back on his friend's upper arm to ease him away from the field. He turned him side-on, so that he could still have some light falling on his face, but also so he couldn't compare the scant dimensions of their cell to the larger area just out of reach.
He tried to hold his eyes, but it was impossible. Garak was ceaselessly measuring the distance from one wall to the next with his gaze, and that wasn't helping in the slightest. "Look at me. Just at me."
Garak managed to do so for a breath. His eyes flicked away. Came back. He muttered, "You are the most mindless being I have ever encountered, of any species. How many times do I have to tell—"
He broke off to whip his head around, no doubt painfully. His focus was slow to return.
"Oh, I'd say at least another two hundred times," he answered with the briskness all doctors learned. "You may as well save your breath." A light squeeze of Garak's hand, still locked in his. "Now, I've thought of more to ramble on about. Do you think you could put up with me talking at you again?"
Garak went still, save for the now constant tremors Julian could feel beneath his skin. The faint glow of the force field glinted off the sweat on Garak's brow and lit where his fine black hair was clumping together at his temples from dampness.
The nod he gave was small. But it was still discernible.
Julian guided him back to what had become their seats. He kept Garak's hand in his and once again was permitted to do so.
"I never did tell you why I became a doctor, did I? To be honest, it wasn't my intent from the start—when I was a boy, I was terrified of doctors. . . ."
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Action/Pre-slash
Rating & Warnings: PG (references to torture; panic attack; innuendo)
Betas: tinsnip and Yosie
Words: This part 4500, approximately 16 000 overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: "...[T]he dictator is merely the tip of the whole festering boil of social pus from which dictators emerge; shoot one, and there’ll be another one along in a minute." - Terry Pratchett. Approximately six weeks after The Circle's fall from power, a fragment of the organisation returns to lash out against the only Cardassian living on Deep Space Nine. What they didn't anticipate, however, was being interrupted mid-abduction. This chapter: The senior staff on DS9 continue attempts to rescue Julian and Garak, and Garak's condition worsens.
Author's Notes: I don't have a whole lot to say about this chapter, actually. Mostly it's a continuation of the things I've played with in earlier chapters--and, of course, me insisting on making things worse.
On a side note, though, anyone who catches the tiny little Vienna Teng reference in this gets a whole batch of cookies.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
A very small corner of O'Brien's mind, the only corner not bearing down on unscrambling the location of that blasted signal, found time to be grateful that Commander Sisko had decided to assign Lieutenant Dax to him. As much as he liked his superior officers, anyone else and he'd be snapping the sorts of things that got a man demoted. It was hard to snap at Dax, though. She was just so—serene. Probably came from being older than all their grandmothers put together.
Whatever the reason, it was a good thing for him—the only good thing he'd run into since this whole damned mess had begun.
The sound of boots on metal caught his attention, and O'Brien took his hands from the circuitry before looking up. No sense in making things worse through carelessness.
"How's it going?" Major Kira asked as she swung down the ladder.
"Not good," Dax answered for them. "We have the signal isolated to either the second or third moon of Bajor, but we're having trouble getting more specific than that."
"And since both moons were popular hideouts for rebels during the Occupation. . . ." the Major began.
He didn't need to finish her sentence, but he did it anyway. "It's not much help, is it?"
"If you can whittle it down further, I've got a list of terrorist arrests made in the last six months—I thought it wouldn't hurt to be thorough," she added. "The Constable should be ready with his own information soon. We have another thirty minutes before The Circle calls again."
Thirty damned minutes to pinpoint a signal that could be coming from literally anywhere on a couple of moons. Oh, there was nothing to that. Couldn't be easier!
Obviously, he wasn't about to say that aloud—though his face probably did all the talking for him. Instead, he asked, "Isn't there some way you or the Commander could stall them and buy us a little time?"
"We can try, but they're probably expecting it," Kira answered. No guesses needed as to how likely she thought their chances of success would be. "They know we'll be trying to find them. They're going to do everything they can to minimize their transmission time."
"Suppose we'd better get to work, then," O'Brien said on a sigh.
"I'll be back in twenty minutes with the Constable's information." Kira climbed the ladder again and left.
He was about to turn back to his work, but before he could, he felt a hand on his arm. He glanced back to see Dax giving him a soothing smile.
"Don't worry, Miles," she said. "We'll find Julian, and Garak, too. They'll be fine."
O'Brien attempted to smile back, though he was willing to bet it looked horrible. Dr. Bashir was a nuisance and no mistake, but that didn't mean he deserved to be plucked off the station and held against his will by a bunch of terrorists. Even if they were telling the truth about returning him unharmed, he couldn't imagine a xenophobic bunch like them would make life too pleasant for any Human in their gentle arms—especially a Human with the habit of mouthing off.
As for Garak . . . . He was none too fond of the Cardassians, it was true, but if The Circle was planning on doing to him half of what the Cardassians did during the Occupation, he felt sorry for the man. It was a bloody awful way to go no matter who you were.
All he said in response, however, was, "I hope you're right, Lieutenant." He turned his gaze back to the communications circuitry and sighed. "Let's see what miracles we can work in the next twenty minutes."
Julian could still feel his fingers, and frankly, that worried him. He could see the tendons standing out on the back of Garak's hand from the effort of keeping his grip at a normal pressure. If he didn't know better, he would think they were on the verge of flying apart. He'd have much preferred to have his hand crushed, but he could hardly say as much to Garak—his friend would not react well. He couldn't afford that. Not when Garak's tendons weren't all that seemed on the verge of severing.
"Garak, I want you to breathe with me. We're going to count our breaths."
His voice was soft, even softer than usual, in reaction to Garak's decreasing control over his own volume. It was a deficiency the other man demonstrated with his next words.
"Why? I'm not one of your patients, Doctor, and I fail to see what good it will do!"
"I believe in practicing preventative medicine," he replied calmly. "And it will serve as a break from me rambling on—I'm beginning to run out of things to say. Unless you'd like me to dictate to you the report on that sample data I was supposed to have finished by now, of course."
He received no answer but Garak's too-quick, raspy breaths.
"Come on. Let's go. One. . . ."
He took in a slow, even breath through his nose, listening for Garak. The other man's breathing was jerky and fast, but he didn't let himself be concerned. It was only the first breath.
When he breathed out, through his mouth, this time, Garak was better able to copy him. He made certain to breathe out just a little longer than he breathed in. The last thing he wanted was for Garak's breathing to turn into tension, or worse, hyperventilation.
"Two. . . ."
It took dozens of breath, but gradually, Julian could actually see Garak come down from the peak of his panic attack to something a little more manageable. He hardly had time to relax himself, though, when Garak averted his head.
"I'm making quite the fool of myself here. I'm sorry you've had to witness me being so—irrational." His voice dropped and he muttered, "I just have to focus. Fear has no place in an ordered mind. If I only—"
"Garak," Julian interrupted firmly. If he let that go on, Garak would talk himself to pieces and undo all their work. "It's all right. There's no shame in being afraid. Everyone is afraid of something, and if they claim they aren't, they're lying."
"There's shame if your foolish, childish fear makes you a liability in a very dire situation indeed." Garak's voice grew louder with every word. "Don't patronize me, Doctor. I know full well how terribly I'm embarrassing myself and I don't need you to lie to me to spare my feelings!"
Julian forced himself to keep a level tone. "This kind of talk isn't helping. Let's go back and do a little more breathing."
"Why?" Garak demanded. "It isn't doing any good!"
"Because I say so!"
Julian closed his eyes for a moment. When he spoke next, his voice was soft again. "Let's just . . . breathe for a while. Where were we again?"
Garak's head lowered; when he spoke again, it was clear his anger had been extinguished. "Forty-three."
"Right. Forty-four. . . ."
Sisko waited for Dax and O'Brien to appear from the engineering pit before beginning to speak—but only just. The moment both of O'Brien's feet were on the floor of ops, that was it. There was no time left for even a delay as brief as waiting for him to reach the table.
"We have five minutes before The Circle is due to contact us. I hope this hour was a productive one."
"It was for us. Major Kira and I were able to find a pattern to the arrests made on terrorism charges over the past half a year," Odo reported. "There was a spike in arrests made on the planet right around the time of the official dissolution of the organization, but the last three have all been on Bajor's second and third moons."
"Even if Bajor itself was the main focus of operations during the Occupation, there was still a lot going on out on the moons," Kira added. "They're all thick with caves—it's the perfect place to hide. You're only likely to get caught if you come up to the surface for supplies."
"Which is how the three most recent terrorists were caught," Odo finished. "Unfortunately, they were spread out over a large enough area that we didn't have time to work out where they were hiding."
"I see. Thank you, Major, Constable." It was a start—but at this point, that wasn't enough. He glanced over to where Dax and the Chief were standing. "What about the two of you? Any luck?"
"Some." Dax's voice was as level as ever as she went on, but she didn't look happy. "We can confirm that The Circle is definitely operating out of the second or possibly third moon, but we can't narrow it down any further. The moons were in conjunction when The Circle first contacted us, so while we're pretty certain the message was transmitted from the second moon, we can't be positive."
"I'll get down in the pit, sir," O'Brien volunteered. "I know it's a long shot, but if you can keep them talking for a while, I should be able to pinpoint where the signal's coming from."
"Do it." Sisko gave a sharp nod. "They'll be hailing us any minute."
O'Brien strode back to the pit ladder; almost as soon as his feet clanged against the metal flooring, the station computer alerted them to a hail. Dax quickly resumed her post.
"Onscreen."
As the viewer flicked into operation, the same trio of robed figures as before appeared—or at least, Sisko assumed they were the same. With their features so well disguised, it would be impossible to be sure, and since only their leader had spoken the last time, he had no way of confirming the identities of the other two. It made pinning down their numbers difficult, which was no doubt the entire point.
Their backdrop was different this time, though he couldn't tell whether that was from a slightly different transmitter angle or a complete change of location. All he knew was the bulbous rock spire behind the Circle member to his left hadn't been in view before.
(It was a strange thing to be thinking, but he found himself understanding how frustrated the Cardassians had become when dealing with the Bajoran Resistance over the decades of the Occupation. The Circle was far too skilled at erasing any and all details he might use to determine even the most basic information about them, and even after such a short period of time, it was more than beginning to wear on him.)
"It's been one hour, Commander." The leader's voice was familiar, at least—it was the same woman as before. "Have you made your decision?"
Sisko released his hands from behind his back to spread them before him, palms out. It was a gesture he knew many Humans and Bajorans shared: an indication that the speaker was not a threat. "I'm afraid I've run into a little trouble with that. You see, Starfleet has a very specific set of protocols for dealing with hostage situations. I've been in contact with Starfleet Headquarters and they've given Dr. Bashir's return top priority, but matters have been complicated by the abduction of a non-Federation citizen from a station where the Federation has been given jurisd—"
"We don't care about your internal politics," the leader cut him off. "You can set up the details on your own time. They're not our concern. Now, do you want your doctor back or not?"
Damn. The leader was too intelligent to be drawn into a long conversation. At the rate things were going, he wasn't sure how much more time he could give O'Brien. Still, he had to keep trying to delay.
Before he could reply, however, Kira slipped in ahead of him with one of her incredulous laughs.
"Commander, I've been telling you for the last hour—take their offer! They're giving you Dr. Bashir back unharmed. What else is there to discuss?"
. . . Now that was interesting. Kira hadn't been telling him anything over the last hour—he'd been shut up in his office, arguing with a series of provisional government officials. And she certainly wasn't one to give up, either, even on a job she disliked.
Sisko turned to face her, letting himself frown. "That may be so, but there's still the matter of Mr. Garak."
"He's a Cardassian! Let Cardassia worry about him." When he remained silent, she gave him a look that didn't stop short of insubordination. "Don't pretend you're going to lose any sleep over him. The Federation spent decades fighting the Cardassians—you can't tell me that's all been forgotten in two years!"
Sisko's gaze dropped. "That may be the case, but. . . ."
"Do what they're telling you, Commander," Kira pressed. "You stand to gain a hell of a lot more than you'll lose."
He counted one, two, three . . . then lifted his head and addressed the figures on the viewscreen. "All right. But you had better keep your promise that Dr. Bashir will be returned to us in perfect condition."
"Of course." The leader's mask tilted upward slightly; her tone was smug. "We'll rendezvous with you in orbit above the southern hemisphere of the third moon of Bajor XI in three hours. In return, you're not to pursue us in any way or fire on us, or the deal is off. Understood?"
Sisko nodded once, the movement slow and small. Even before he had lifted his head again, the transmission cut out.
He spent no time contemplating the empty viewer but immediately turned to Kira. "I hope you have a plan, Major, because otherwise you've put us in a very difficult situation."
"I do." Kira met his gaze. "I recognize the cave they're in."
His brows flew up. "You're certain of that?"
"Positive." She smiled a bit. Behind them, Sisko could hear O'Brien emerging from the engineering pit. "To be honest with you, Commander, while being in the Resistance was exciting when you were fighting Cardassians or fleeing for your life, there was a lot of sitting around caves, staring at rocks. Some rocks, you got to know really well . . . like the one on the viewer just now."
He believed her—they'd built up a lot of trust over the past year—but still, he had to ask: "What was so memorable about that one in particular? It looked like just another rock to me."
“If you look at it from the right angle, it looks just like Kai Opaka,” she answered. “The nose is a little big, and her cap is a bit crooked, but aside from that, it's the spitting image. When Lupaza pointed it out to us, we couldn't believe it.”
Sisko tried to recall the rock in the viewer image, mentally setting the Kai's face alongside it. “. . . I'll take your word for it.”
Kira shifted her balance to her other foot a bit awkwardly, her hand coming up to rest on her hip. “We . . . had been staring at an awful lot of rocks at that point.”
“I don't doubt it.”
He looked about at his staff, his smile fading into something a little graver. "Kira, you and O'Brien are going to be responsible for retrieving Dr. Bashir and Garak. What can you tell me about the entrances to the cave system, Major?"
"There are quite a few of them and none are obvious—it's probably why The Circle chose the location as their new base," she reported. All evidence of previous awkwardness had been excised from her manner. "I'd be surprised if they had the numbers to guard them all. There's entrance in particular I'm thinking of that's a couple of kilometres from the main area they may not know about yet. It would be ideal for getting in without them noticing us."
"Then that's where I want you to touch down." He shifted his gaze to O'Brien. "Chief, I want you to disguise the warp signature of the shuttle. They may have the capability to monitor the traffic above their base. Dax, you'll pilot them in and then fly out of sensor range—but not communication range."
"Got it. It'll be tricky, but we'll manage," she promised him.
"Good." He surveyed the others once again. "This may be tight. Make sure you prepare yourselves. We're not looking for a fight, but The Circle may want to give us one anyway. They might still have weaponry left over from when the Cardassians were supplying them, so be careful."
"We will be, sir," Kira answered, but it was clear she was speaking for all of them. Seeing the determination in every single expression around him, Sisko couldn't be prouder. He may have taken this post reluctantly, but now he wouldn't trade it or one person before him for anything anyone could offer.
"Good. That's what I want to hear. And one last thing," he added when it seemed everyone was ready to depart. "Kira, before you make your preparations, I'd like you to point out the location of these caves on a map so Odo and I can alert the provisional government to have the militia on standby." He smiled. "The Circle is about to have a lot more to do than stare at oddly-shaped rocks. Dismissed."
Telling the time in a cave after an unknown period of unconsciousness was impossible. It felt, though, as if it had been hours, during which he had done nothing more than sit in the dark in this damned cave and keep Garak's panic attack as manageable as possible. His lack of means to help his friend was growing more frustrating—was in fact well on its way to infuriating—as the few options he had grew steadily less effective.
He wasn't sure how much longer slow breathing was going to work. He wasn't sure how useful rambling at Garak was going to be a second time, but he was going to hope it did something, because it was all he had.
. . . And then there was the soft, still-distant sound of boots on grit.
Ordinarily, Julian would wait a moment or two before drawing to the attention of others what he had heard. But with the disparity between Human and Cardassian hearing and the state Garak was in, he doubted he was going to be questioned on the matter.
"Garak," he whispered.
Garak didn't react. His eyes stayed closed tight and his breathing pattern did not change.
"Garak." He squeezed his friend's hand. "There's someone coming."
That did get a response. Garak opened his eyes and turned his head, and against his arm, Julian could feel him drawing himself up from his slump.
His voice was low and ragged when he spoke. "Our captors at last?"
"I don't know. I can't tell." He couldn't even be sure they weren't simply passing by. The acoustics of the cave were making it extremely difficult to work out anything—except that there must be several tunnels nearby to distort the sound so.
Garak closed his eyes again; Julian felt him tense and his grip on his hand hardened. Then, with a horrible weariness, he said, "It seems it's time to make a few introductions. How delightful."
It took obvious effort for Garak to stand, and just as much effort for Julian not to help him. He knew, though, that to show any concern, any pity now would have a terrible effect upon not only Garak's ability to present his facade, but also upon their friendship.
And so he tucked his worries away and tried not to feel it so acutely when Garak let go of his hand for the first time since Julian had taken it all that time ago. In the last few moments before their company arrived, he flexed his cramped and empty hand by his side and out of the corner of his eye, he caught Garak doing the same. The evidence of their shared sensation brought a faint smile to his lips.
It lasted only until a masked figure in a burgundy cloak stepped into view.
The person was solidly built, their uniform stretching across their shoulders and thick arms, and they carried a small light. After all his time in the dark, it was enough to make him squint his eyes against its dull glow, and he winced at how much worse it would be for Garak's more sensitive eyes.
But that was enough of that line of thought. He refused to let this Circle member direct the conversation, and nor was he about to make Garak do any more talking than he had to when frankly it was a miracle he could even stand calmly. It was up to him to take control.
"Well, there you are!" He locked his hands behind his back. "I was beginning to think we'd been left here to rot. Just what do you think you're doing, abducting a Federation officer and a resident of Deep Space Nine like this?"
"We regret the necessity of taking you, Doctor." The voice of the Circle member was higher in pitch than he had expected, and he mentally adjusted his assumptions. "We had no desire to involve you in this matter. Regardless, you will not be involved for much longer. We have just concluded negotiations with Commander Sisko for your release."
When she didn't go on, when her last words hung in the dead air, he stared at her. He could feel his pulse beating him, could hear it, at what she didn't say.
"And?" The word ripped from him, one syllable violent with betrayal.
"My dear doctor, I don't know why you were expecting anything else."
Julian snapped his head around to where Garak stood, chin raised, offering them detached amusement.
"The Circle would never agree to give me up. I'm sure your commander saw the life of one Cardassian as a rather unfortunate but ultimately acceptable trade to make for the safe return of his chief medical officer."
His voice was calm and measured, and it was a lie as fine as any he'd ever spun. To the Circle member, he would surely sound nothing more than inconvenienced, but Julian knew Garak. The man was one of his few close friends on DS9, and he could tell from light years away how much this was costing him. Oh, certainly the words were right and so was the vocabulary. But the inflections were misplaced and unfamiliar, as if a stranger were impersonating Garak. The stranger had captured the words, but not the man.
"Commander Sisko—"
. . . would never sacrifice the life of anyone on his station for the sake of expediency.
Before Garak could react, Julian seized his hand again, wove their fingers together with no gentleness. He brought his checked anger back into his voice, but drew it this time not from betrayal but the knowledge of what the person in front of him had planned for Garak.
"Commander Sisko is just going to have to go back to the bargaining table." He lifted his chin to stare down at their captor in imitation of Garak. "Either Garak and I leave together, or I'm staying right here with him."
"Doctor, don't be foolish." He felt his hand jerk and glanced over just long enough to watch Garak make a second attempt to free himself. His façade was abruptly wavering; his voice had lost much of its force.
Julian held on all the tighter.
"Do what they say!" Garak urged. "You don't know what you're signing up for, but believe me, I do."
Garak was right: he didn't know. But thinking of what The Circle intended for Garak, however uncertain his knowledge might be, increased his resolution instead of sapping it.
"I don't care."
He was shaking, but from adrenaline, not fear. If the force field hadn't been separating them, he would have taken on the Circle member before him right then and there, so exhilarated was he with his defiance.
The expression of the woman was impossible to determine and her body language was difficult to discern, but her disbelief rang through the cave. "Why are you rejecting your chance to escape for his sake?"
"Because he's my friend," he shot back. "So you can go tell your leaders that you have to reopen negotiations with Commander Sisko, because I'm not going anywhere."
There was a long silence as the echo of his final words faded away, and Julian was certain he'd scored a victory.
But then the woman spoke again. "You will be released to the Federation, willing or unwilling. It makes no difference to us."
Before Julian could gather himself for another attack, she turned and walked away, taking her lamp with her.
A shudder shook against his dampened hand, and he was just in time to stop Garak from walking straight into the force field in pursuit of the light.
"Steady, there, Garak." With care, he pulled back on his friend's upper arm to ease him away from the field. He turned him side-on, so that he could still have some light falling on his face, but also so he couldn't compare the scant dimensions of their cell to the larger area just out of reach.
He tried to hold his eyes, but it was impossible. Garak was ceaselessly measuring the distance from one wall to the next with his gaze, and that wasn't helping in the slightest. "Look at me. Just at me."
Garak managed to do so for a breath. His eyes flicked away. Came back. He muttered, "You are the most mindless being I have ever encountered, of any species. How many times do I have to tell—"
He broke off to whip his head around, no doubt painfully. His focus was slow to return.
"Oh, I'd say at least another two hundred times," he answered with the briskness all doctors learned. "You may as well save your breath." A light squeeze of Garak's hand, still locked in his. "Now, I've thought of more to ramble on about. Do you think you could put up with me talking at you again?"
Garak went still, save for the now constant tremors Julian could feel beneath his skin. The faint glow of the force field glinted off the sweat on Garak's brow and lit where his fine black hair was clumping together at his temples from dampness.
The nod he gave was small. But it was still discernible.
Julian guided him back to what had become their seats. He kept Garak's hand in his and once again was permitted to do so.
"I never did tell you why I became a doctor, did I? To be honest, it wasn't my intent from the start—when I was a boy, I was terrified of doctors. . . ."