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So far, things had all been very… civilised. Garak had expected as much, given the Federation’s reputation for squeamishness and moralising. His mission on Romulus had had the misfortune of being incompatible with a simultaneous Federation operation. Once it had become clear that there was no way of moving forward with his objective, he’d tried to cut his losses and slip away. The Federation agent was supposed to have assumed he would remain to complete the mission out of a sense of blind fanaticism, but unfortunately, she’d been waiting at his extraction point. He’d been stunned, not killed, and presumably kept under heavy sedation until he’d woken up in a holding cell.
Most likely, this branch of Starfleet Intelligence comprised sloppy amateurs too weak to execute him the way they should have back on Romulus. A part of Garak favoured the idea that his reputation had preceded him and that he’d been as much a target as the Romulan senator, but that seemed rather less likely.
The agent that had shot him had been a statuesque woman with impeccable poise. The man currently sitting opposite Garak in this plain Federation cell was, by contrast, an unimpressive example of his species. There was something undoubtedly shrewd in his beady little eyes, but his field gear was too dark to have been selected for stealth purposes and only served to make his sallow skin look all the more washed out.
The agent reached out to the cup of tea in front of him and took a light sip. Garak followed the movement with his eyes and otherwise remained still, a faint smile on his face.
‘That was shaping up to be some impressive work on Romulus,’ said the agent. ‘You speak the language, don’t you?’ he asked.
Garak’s smile didn’t change.
‘You’re welcome to take my cup, if you like. I won’t begrudge you a little paranoia. I imagine you’re thirsty.’
Garak weighed the option of politely declining, but elected to remain silent instead.
‘Alright, I’ll dispense with the small talk then. The war is ending, as I’m sure you’re aware. The last encounters between the Federation and Cardassia have been minor skirmishes at most. A truce and a treaty will be arranged within the year, at our best guess. You can spend that time rotting away in a cell, being treated civilly and bored out of your mind, or you can make yourself useful.’
Garak tilted his head to one side, very slightly, to show he was listening. He’d been here one or two days at most and boredom had in fact been the worst thing he’d been subjected to. No torture, no real deprivation, not even a bit of light interrogation. His neural implant made him practically unassailable, but they had no way of knowing that. A recruitment offer this early, without particularly unpleasant circumstances to shore it up, was quite unorthodox. Did they really expect him to betray Cardassia so easily?
‘We don’t have many experts in the Romulan language and we would benefit from someone with training and experience in their culture. Once the Federation-Cardassian war has been tidied up, we’ll be setting our sights on new threats, new targets – mutual targets of both the Federation and Cardassia’s government.’
‘I see,’ Garak said, the first words he’d uttered to anyone since his capture. It was vanishingly unlikely that Starfleet Intelligence lacked Romulan linguistics experts. Either this agent was telling a transparent lie to gauge Garak’s response, or Garak had run afoul of an insulated intelligence cell that was operating with extremely limited resources. That would help explain why they’d bothered taking him alive.
The agent smiled without humour. ‘I’m so glad you see. You seem like a smart Cardassian.’ Garak had been called some rather insulting names in his time, but something about the way this agent said ‘Cardassian’ could rival even those derogatory terms. ‘It’s a simple offer. We’ll give you some minor clerical work, dealing with data gathered about the Romulans, and in exchange you’ll have the run of this base and treatment broadly in line with our true agents. You won’t be able to leave, of course, and your access to technology will be restricted, but I’m sure you’d expect nothing less.’
Garak blinked once. It was a good deal, all things considered. The Obsidian Order would currently be working to determine what had happened on Romulus and once they’d deduced that Garak had been captured, they would come for him. Garak gave this minor intelligence cell about two months at most before they were crushed by the Order in retaliation. Tain wouldn’t let them get away with having captured or killed one of his most favoured agents.
‘Prisoner exchanges tend to be a fairly straightforward part of peace talks too, and who knows,’ the agent continued, a faintly smarmy smile blooming across his face, ‘you might even have learned something useful yourse— ’
The door of the holding cell slid open and a young human bounded inside. ‘Sir, I know you told me to drop the plasma physics project, but I’ve been running simulations in my own time, and I think I can stabilise the whole rig if I aim for a high-energy net, rather than trying to concentrate it into a single beam.’ His long-fingered hands shaped an invisible sphere in the air, roughly twice as large as his head. ‘And yes, the explosion was rather large, but nobody was hurt, and if you just supply me with two, maybe three more super-heating plasma coils, at most, I know I can get viable results. Please, Commander Sloan,’ the young man added, dropping his hands back to his sides. His wide-eyed, pleading expression shifted into an adorably transparent attempt at slyness. ‘And just imagine what this could mean for our impulse engines if I can pull it off.’
Garak realised he’d parted his lips to scent the air and was leaning forward in his seat. This human was the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen. Those warm eyes, that long, slim neck, the nimble hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. His smooth, alien skin looked like it would be delightful to caress. Garak got a hold of himself and flashed a quick look over at the agent opposite him – ‘Commander Sloan’, apparently.
Sloan had a tight expression on his face. Hopefully he’d missed Garak’s reaction. ‘Julian. This is not an appropriate time.’
Julian blinked (long, full lashes) at Sloan and turned to face Garak. His clear, focused gaze nearly stole Garak’s breath. ‘Oh! You’re a Cardassian.’ A radiant smile broke across the young man’s face like dawn.
‘Really? I hadn’t noticed,’ Garak said with a tilt of his head, before he could think better of it.
Julian laughed, and breaking his own silence so thoughtlessly almost seemed worth it. ‘And he’s funny too,’ Julian said, biting his lip in a way that had Garak immediately wishing that those were his own teeth.
‘You can have your plasma coils. Now get out,’ Sloan ordered.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Julian said happily, his attention instantly snapping back to his commander. He threw one last look back at Garak as he headed toward the door. ‘I’m glad we’re on-boarding more aliens. There are far too many humans around here for my taste,’ he added with a lopsided grin.
Sloan gave a heavy put-upon sigh once he and Garak were alone again.
‘Some sort of organisational mascot of yours?’ Garak asked politely.
‘Something like that,’ Sloan muttered. He refocused on Garak. ‘You can have him, if you like. Since you’re so obviously enamoured. If you take my deal, of course.’
Garak didn’t let his surprise show. ‘Are you sure the Federation is allowed to make me that kind of offer? With one of your own citizens, no less?’ He wasn’t fully disregarding the possibility that Julian’s little interruption had been staged for Garak’s benefit. What were the odds that the kind of bait he was most susceptible to would just so happen to fall into his lap (suppress that image) during a delicate recruitment interview? But there was also something odd, something off, about that young scientist that would not have been present in a true professional. Sloan had also seemed genuinely irritated at the interruption and Garak didn’t think he was that good of an actor.
‘He’s not a citizen. He’s an Augment. And obviously you’re not allowed to damage him in any way. But, knowing him, he’d probably let an alien do all sorts of things to him, if you happened to be free to wander around.’
Garak had already been planning to take the deal. It would be easier launching his own escape attempt if he had the run of this base, and there was clearly a lot he could learn – not just about this cell, but potentially about the Romulans. Tain would be happy to hear at least some of what the Federation had discovered about the pointy-eared threat.
‘If I accept your deal, then I will be allowed to approach your Augment in whatever fashion I choose. Let me explain my presence to him and don’t allow any of your people to contradict me.’ Let Sloan believe that Garak was accepting this deal out of some prurient interest in the pretty scientist. It was always better to be underestimated. ‘That is, if you’re comfortable letting me lie to your little mascot,’ he added with wide eyes and raised brow-ridges.
‘Tell him whatever lies you like. He already believes that he’s a junior-grade lieutenant – in Starfleet,’ Sloan scoffed.
Garak gave another pleasant smile, while inwardly frowning over the strange puzzle that had been presented to him.
///
Of all Garak’s field-skills, he particularly excelled at fading into the background. This was not a trivial task for a Cardassian on a base populated largely (exclusively?) by humans. Two things worked to his advantage. Firstly, he had a wide selection of reading materials that allowed him to seem completely absorbed by his task. Secondly, the enemy agents surrounding him clearly viewed this place as safe, a home base. Field-work demanded constant focused attention, which was draining for any species. Successful agents compartmentalised and knew how to switch off once they were in a place they viewed as safe.
Garak had situated himself in the base’s replimat, at the fourth most secure table so that it looked like he was being careless. Yesterday he’d sat at the third most secure table. He hated not having a clear line of sight to the entryway, but that was rather the point. A cup of that foul Klingon coffee the humans seemed to like sat at his elbow. He’d emptied half of it back into the replicator directly after he’d materialised it. He still didn’t quite trust that the replicator wasn’t recognising his bio-signature and materialising his orders with nasty little surprises slipped in, but going without food or drink for a month or two simply wasn’t an option. So far the only things he’d actually consumed had been extremely bland foods, where tampering would be most obvious. It was reassuring, in a depressing sort of way, that the basic protein paste replication pattern seemed to be identical in both Federation space and on Cardassia.
Enemy agents drifted in and out of the replimat at all hours, alone or in small groups. They were clearly uncomfortable seeing him in their base, but aside from the occasional hostile look, they kept out of his way, settling on the tables furthest from him. Garak pretended to drink his Klingon swill and read Romulan reports. The conversations around him stayed low enough that he couldn’t hear a single one. Fortunately, the war had necessitated intensive courses in Federation Standard for all Obsidian operatives, and Garak was able to pick up quite a bit from lip-reading his captors.
His interest was currently piqued by a pair of agents arguing near the replicator. Garak had picked up a few pieces of gossip about Julian yesterday, but this was the first sustained conversation he’d managed to observe.
The agent on the left had a grim expression on her face. She had wisely redirected the conversation away from her latest field mission in response to her companion’s casual enquiry. ‘I still can’t believe the director authorised more super-heating plasma coils for that Augment’s laboratory. He’s going to get everyone on this base killed,’ she said, stabbing morosely at the food on her tray.
The agent on the right was wearing rather unflattering civilian clothes. ‘He has a name, Cartwright. ’
‘Right. I can’t believe the director authorised more plasma coils for Khan.’
The ill-dressed agent gestured with her fork. ‘And this is why I hate baby-sitting transfers. The brief you would have read was written about six weeks after they brought him in, before anyone knew anything about him. Sure, we were prepared for Khan, but we got Julian.’
The agent on the left, Cartwright, glared across the table. ‘I’ve reviewed the performance data. That thing is a freak, Jones. Humans aren’t meant to process that fast. It’s unnatural and it’s going to drive him insane – if it hasn’t already.’
Agent Jones pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Okay, let me give you an example. Last week, while he was trying to flirt with Lieutenant-Commander Bainbridge, he planted his elbow in the middle of his own lunch tray.’
‘Lieutenant-Commander Bainbridge? Did she tear off his head and eat it?’ Cartwright asked.
‘No, she laughed at him because he had mashed potato on his elbow and the most helplessly forlorn expression on his face.’
‘I’ve heard that she’s never even smiled,’ Cartwright said dubiously.
‘Julian isn’t a threat. Or at least, not like Khan. He’s been with us for six years and the biggest danger he poses is to the laboratory. And look, last year when there was that oxidising explosion, one of our agents was in the room observing. Julian tackled him out of the blast radius, because an Augment can move freakishly fast when motivated to do so. He sustained second-degree burns along his back and Nguyen walked away with some minor bruising. So leave him alone, okay?’
Cartwright sat back in her chair and grimaced. ‘Even if he hasn’t gone off the deep end yet, it’s still dangerous to just let him wander around playing Starfleet.’
Jones shrugged. She looked a little uncomfortable. ‘There’s no harm in letting him think he’s Starfleet. It’s a lot better than the alternative,’ she added, tilting her head meaningfully toward Cartwright’s sidearm.
Garak’s concentration broke as an excitable figure rounded a support column and headed directly toward Garak’s table. Julian grinned down at him. ‘I’d hoped I’d find you here. My name’s Julian Bashir.’ He leaned over the table, planting one hand on its surface and holding the other one out to Garak. Garak blinked at him. The angle of his hand made it clear that it wasn’t a presumptuous invitation to press palms, as a Cardassian would understand it. Garak wracked his mind for the appropriate human gesture. It took him far too long to remember their ‘handshake’ tradition and longer still to reach across the table.
Julian didn’t seem the least bit put off by the awkward pause. Garak took Julian’s hand in his own, feeling vaguely like he was getting away with something. They were in public, and here Garak’s whole palm was sliding against Julian’s. He squeezed down, lightly, and suppressed the impulse to try and thread their fingers together, just to see what would happen. ‘Garak. It’s a pleasure to meet you properly,’ he said with a pleasant smile.
‘You too. Do you mind if I sit with you?’ Julian asked. He hadn’t let go of Garak’s hand and Garak was inclined to see how long that would last. Julian’s hand was very warm.
‘Of course, please, be my guest.’
Julian moved to sit, inadvertently tugging on Garak’s arm. He startled and let go. A pity. ‘Oh. Sorry.’
‘It’s quite alright. I must say it’s good to dine with someone again. I’ve been so wrapped up in my work for the last few days that I’ve barely had time to meet anyone. I’m very interested in making new connections across the divide, so to speak, especially with such a well-established individual… how long have you been working here?’ Garak enquired, to see if Julian’s account would match up with the agent’s. He wasn’t particularly practiced at determining a human’s age by sight, but Julian looked rather young for someone studying novel plasma physics.
‘About six and a half years. I’m a rather, ah, unique case,’ he added, though he didn’t seem happy about it.
‘Ah yes, that did come up in my brief,’ Garak lied. ‘Though it’s probably insensitive of me to even broach the topic.’ Garak still wasn’t completely sure what being an ‘Augment’ entailed, and why it deprived Julian of Federation citizenship. His working theory was that Julian’s conception involved a distasteful encounter between a Federation citizen and some alien enemy of the Federation. In that case, abandoning him to one of the Federation’s fringe organisations would have been the most pragmatic choice his progenitor(s) could make. Sloan revealing Julian’s status to Garak was clearly meant to signal that the information was common knowledge, given that he had no apparent compunctions about telling an enemy agent.
‘No, no, you’re not being insensitive,’ Julian practically fell over himself to assure Garak. ‘We were just discussing my tenure. Perhaps I’m a little sensitive,’ he added with a strained chuckle.
‘I merely meant that it’s impressive for someone so young to be entrusted with such complex research projects,’ Garak said with a faintly condescending smile.
‘I’m not that young,’ Julian immediately protested. ‘I’ve held this commission since I was seventeen and I’ve published several times. My record speaks for itself.’
It would be gauche to try and coax Julian into a full-blown argument at their first true meeting in the middle of a public replimat. Garak was reasonably sure that humans didn’t even have the capacity to understand the proper complexity and nuance of the cut and twist of a well-formed argument. But there was something compellingly passionate and mildly adversarial in the way Julian was approaching even a relaxed conversation.
Before he could make a suitably subdued rejoinder, Garak was interrupted once again, this time by the looming presence of Agent Jones. She had wandered over from her table in the corner to stand just behind Julian’s chair. She glared at Garak before tapping Julian on the shoulder. He startled and Garak wondered if that indicated a sensitive spot, given how close the touch had come to his neck. Garak smiled politely up at the unwelcome interloper and hoped she would leave soon.
‘Hi Julian, who’s your new friend?’
Julian smiled guilelessly up at the agent. ‘This is Garak – he’s uh…’ His brow furrowed as he realised that Garak hadn’t said anything substantial about himself. ‘He’s new?’
‘Given the ceasing of hostilities between our people, I’m a sort of… goodwill gesture… to help mend some bridges between our respective organisations,’ he lied, with a little self-deprecating smile and a shrug. ‘I just hope my Federation counterpart is receiving as warm a welcome on Cardassia Prime as I am here.’
Jones’s expression tightened, but she didn’t contradict Garak’s story. Presumably Sloan had at least meant that part of his offer.
‘That’s wonderful,’ Julian enthused.
‘I imagine your work for us will be keeping you very busy,’ Jones warned.
Garak let his smile widen just a touch. ‘Agent Jones, was it?’ he asked with a slight tilt of his head, gratified by the hostile look the enquiry earned him. ‘While I’m striving to be of use to the Federation in any way I can, I think it’s always important to make time for new… friends.’ He directed his gaze back down to Julian and let his smile become a smirk.
Julian’s lips parted.
Jones gave Garak one more dark look before turning her attention to Julian. She looked resolute. ‘Julian, I’ve heard some fascinating things about your new project, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around the details. Are you able to explain it all to me?’
The change in Julian was instantaneous. He sat up straighter and the glint of desire in his eyes vanished beneath a wave of scientific fervour. He launched into a detailed technical explanation about plasma physics that went far beyond Garak’s tenuous grasp of the topic. It was a small comfort that Jones’s eyes had glazed over a few sentences in. Garak might even have enjoyed hearing Julian expound upon a topic he was so passionate about, but not when his attention had been stolen away by someone who clearly didn’t even want it. Julian had been given to Garak and he wasn’t about to let some posturing Federation agent stand in the way of that. But perhaps a public replimat wasn’t the best place to go about this, Garak mused to himself as he watched Julian nearly overturn his lunch tray with a particularly expansive gesture.
///
There was a difference between short term and medium term secure database break-ins. In a cut and run case, you could simply extract what was needed quickly and gracelessly and hope you aquired it before the system froze all suspicious activity. In Garak’s current situation, he needed to be more circumspect. Working to get better access on his own gelded document reader would be both exceedingly difficult and utterly suspicious. Instead, he identified more junior operatives and stole their personal electronics – briefly. He spent the time working out how to get in, but didn’t search for anything until he could unlock one as seamlessly as an authorised user. Once he was done with an experiment, he left his stolen electronics in carelessly public locations to be picked up by their embarrassed owners.
After successfully acquiring and unlocking his fourth stolen reader, he searched for a few innocuous terms. It was important to see what general news the Federation was releasing to its citizens about the war, even though every word was nauseating propaganda. The next search term didn’t seem like too great a risk, given the sorts of gossip already swirling around the base. ‘Khan, Augment’ revealed some rather fascinating historical accounts that Garak absorbed with great interest. It explained a number of things about Julian’s situation and the attitude of the agents around him.
The information he’d uncovered even revealed a little more about Garak’s own situation. The director of this cell had made a point to check in with Garak every so often. Their discussions were polite on the surface, but Garak knew exactly what it looked like when someone was enjoying the apparent power they held over someone else. Garak should have been executed on Romulus or, failing that, here, where the Order would struggle to locate any trace of his body. But evidently the idea of a Cardassian spy brought to heel was too enticing a prospect for their director to resist. Julian undoubtedly represented a similar opportunity – a reviled enemy, faster, smarter and stronger than an ordinary human and manipulated into subservience to a commander, and a society, that saw him as less than a citizen. Garak had seen this play out with legates who misunderstood the relationship between the Obsidian Order and the State, and who enjoyed exercising a false power over Tain’s representatives. Such things did not end well for them.
So armed with this new knowledge, Garak sought out Julian in his natural habitat – the base’s laboratory. It was located in the basement and clearly newer than the rest of the building. Either that, or a succession of lab accidents had necessitated an unusual amount of repair and remodelling over the years. Garak descended the stairs cautiously, deciding that the turbo lift presented an unacceptable level of risk. He did not want to be confined if the lift lost power or got caught in a plasma explosion.
He heard Julian before he saw him, which was not a frequent occurrence for a Cardassian. The door to the laboratory was wide open, presumably to facilitate supervision, and Julian’s voice drifted through, his cadence rising and falling excitedly. A hot surge of annoyance swept through Garak at the thought that someone else was once again monopolising Julian’s attention, but as he got closer, he realised that Julian was maintaining two sides of a conversation entirely with himself.
‘It’s all about isohedral balance, naturally. That’s why a focused beam will simply burn through even heavy-plated neutronium. And if that happens again, Commander Sloan is going to try and shut down the project forever, no matter what you promise him about impulse engine efficiency,’ Julian said. He was leaning over a worktable, fitting some kind of high-energy focus around a plasma coil. From what Garak could parse of the design, it was a novel arrangement that would only need a little tweaking to make a rather powerful bomb.
‘Well, he can try shutting down the project, but he doesn’t really care what I do on the mainframe, so long as it stays in simulations and “out of the laboratory, lieutenant junior-grade”.’ Julian’s voice switched to a fairly passable imitation of Sloan as he said that last bit and Garak found an unexpected smile tugging at his lips.
‘Of course there’s always that plastic-catabolic bacteria genome project that’s sitting on the backburner. Bacteria don’t explode, not unless you— ’
‘I do hope I’m not interrupting this riveting discussion,’ Garak said airily as he stepped into the laboratory.
Julian yelped and nearly fell off his chair, clutching at the edge of his workbench to keep himself steady. ‘Garak!’ A sunny smile broke across Julian’s face. ‘Welcome. Would you like a tour of the laboratory?’ He looked around the cluttered work area and frowned slightly. ‘I, ah, don’t get many guests down here, but I can assure you that everything in this lab is very interesting.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ Garak said smoothly. ‘Though I will admit to finding one aspect of this laboratory of particular interest to me.’
Julian stared at him for a long moment, brow furrowed. ‘You mean— ’
‘You, Lieutenant Bashir,’ Garak prompted. Julian’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Garak almost wished that Julian had ridges so that he could tell if the surprise on his face was the… useful kind. But it really would be a shame to interrupt the sleek lines of his handsome shoulders and that lovely, supple neck. The smoothness that would have looked decidedly odd on a Cardassian suited Julian’s intriguing human body.
‘Come now,’ Garak said, a small, indulgent smile forming on his lips. He closed some of the distance between them. ‘I’m sure you’re not surprised by a little flirtation on my part, given the way you’ve been staring at me.’
Julian closed his mouth to swallow. ‘If I’m lucky, people flirt back. People don’t usually flirt first.’
Garak could imagine why Federation agents might be reluctant to entangle themselves with an Augment, even for a night, though he couldn’t imagine that he was the only one to have ever enjoyed Julian’s company. He crowded Julian up against the edge of his workbench, though he took care not to press him back far enough to get into range of his experiment. ‘Are you telling me you’ve never been pursued?’ he asked with mock-incredulity. ‘I find that difficult to believe.’
‘I… can’t remember,’ Julian said, his gaze fixed on Garak’s lips, ‘much of anything really, right now. But I like it. I like this. Don’t stop. Can I touch you?’ he said breathlessly.
Garak pretended to give the question proper consideration, all the while enjoying Julian’s unwavering gaze on him. ‘Not yet, I don’t think,’ he said. Julian made a plaintive noise in the back of his throat that Garak instantly wanted to hear again. ‘Are you being watched?’ Garak asked. He ran the back of his nails down the side of Julian’s face. Julian leaned into the touch and his eyes flickered closed. Garak’s breath hitched at that unconscious gesture of trust. A part of him couldn’t quite let go of the thought that Julian could be bait, the perfect fantasy to ensnare Garak for Starfleet, but there was something so raw and undeniably earnest about him, about his responses.
‘I’m sorry, could you please repeat the question?’ Julian asked.
‘Are you being watched? Are you under surveillance?’
Julian rubbed his cheek against Garak’s hand. ‘Just the usual kind,’ he said.
‘Is there anywhere on this base where you aren’t being watched?’
‘Not really. But no one actually watches through all the footage. That would be unbelievably tedious.’
Garak leaned in so that his lips were right against the edge of Julian’s ear. ‘Could a brilliant scientist, such as yourself, organise a means by which we might have a little privacy? Perhaps in your quarters?’ he murmured, low enough that a human would struggle to hear him, let alone a Cardassian. Julian had no trouble catching the words, which was rather interesting and lent credence to the rumours.
Julian shivered at the breath against his ear, and he gave Garak a delightfully sly little smile. ‘Oh, I see. Maybe you could come by my quarters and discuss that matter with me further,’ he said archly. He all but winked, but hopefully anyone watching or listening would assume that he was referring to something sexual, rather than subversive activity.
‘I would be delighted to,’ Garak enunciated clearly, drawing back a little.
Silence would have been too telling, so Garak engaged Julian in light conversation about his research on the way to his quarters. It really was different listening to him discuss his work when it was clear that he was seeking admiration and approval directly from Garak. For his part, Garak gave Julian a measure of what he was seeking and was most gratified by the way Julian preened in response.
The pleasantries continued once they were in Julian’s quarters. Garak took the cues he was given, taking a seat across from Julian in the lounge area and even accepting a drink that he pretended to sip from. Julian followed Garak’s movements carefully and after a number of tense minutes he took a circuitous route toward his bedroom, which incidentally brought him close to his door panel. He leaned back, casually fiddling with the electronics, before he straightened up with a smug look on his face. ‘I’ve interrupted the surveillance feed. There’s basically enough captured footage from the last ten minutes to generate some randomised data as cover. It won’t be particularly convincing to anyone who’s really paying attention, but like I said, nobody actually goes back and watches everything. It’s all very bureaucratic standard procedure.’
Garak doubted that was the case where Julian was concerned, but the important thing was that they had a measure of privacy now. Garak rose from his seat and prowled over to Julian, who wetted his lips. ‘Can I touch you now? Please?’ Julian asked as the distance between them shrank. It occurred to Garak that Julian’s unique situation had left him with a rather strong instinct for asking permission. He certainly hadn’t had anything to say about Garak taking liberties with touch. Something worth keeping in mind.
Garak took a risk. ‘Are you aware that your commander offered you to me when I arrived?’ he asked mildly. As much as he wanted a distraction from his current status as a Federation prisoner, Garak knew he had to at least test the waters. If he was able to sow even mild discord and dissent among the ranks of Cardassia’s enemies, then it was his duty to do so.
Julian gave a delighted laugh. ‘Did he now? In the spirit of inter-species cooperation and friendship?’ He sounded amused. ‘I think you misunderstood whatever he was trying to tell you about me, but I’ll admit I rather fancy that idea. Am I one of your perks, Mr Garak?’ Julian purred.
Garak had to shut his eyes momentarily. He could say something more directed, more pointed, about Julian’s situation, but that ran the risk of altering their current vector. ‘You can touch,’ he said instead, his voice gone inexplicably hoarse.
Julian’s warm, warm hands were suddenly on his face, tracing the ridges around his eyes, sweeping up to his chufa and playing lightly down his aural ridges. It was utterly unexpected and Garak had to suppress the instinct to flinch away from a touch coming so close to his eyes. Julian didn’t seem to notice. ‘You’re the first Cardassian I’ve ever met in person,’ he said excitedly. ‘I’ve been curious about you since I first saw you. God, you’re so beautiful.’
Garak marvelled at the way Julian seemed to vocalise every passing thought with no concept that such an act might have disastrous consequences. He shoved away the image of Julian having a full-blown conversation with himself in an otherwise deserted basement laboratory.
Julian’s hands found their way down to Garak’s neck ridges. His touch was too light, barely even a tease. Garak covered one of Julian’s hands with his own, thrilling at the intimacy of the gesture. He insinuated his fingers between Julian’s – skin and micro-scaling sliding together erotically – and pressed Julian’s hand down harder against his ridges. ‘More pressure. Most Cardassians like having their neck and shoulder ridges…’ he searched for an appropriate verb that wouldn’t be mortifying to say aloud and came up blank. Thankfully, Julian understood what he was getting at and squeezed down hard. Garak hissed and grabbed Julian around the waist with his other hand.
‘Your scales really are marvellous. What does the darkening mean?’
‘It means that I’m enjoying what you’re doing.’ Arousal was making him too honest, but if it meant that Julian would keep touching him like that…
Julian slid down to his knees and looked up at Garak, his warm brown eyes darkened with hunger. ‘Can I see more of you? I want to make you feel good.’
This was rapidly spinning out of Garak’s control, but there was a beautiful human on his knees, eager to pleasure him. Garak shoved his pants and undergarments down his legs fast enough that he nearly ripped the fastenings. He hadn’t everted, but even a casual glance would reveal his ajan slick and flushed with blood, enough that some of his inner scales were showing.
Julian’s gaze dropped immediately to the juncture of Garak’s legs. His expression was so very intent that it was difficult to tell if Garak was being admired or studied. Long, nimble fingers reached out to trace the edges of Garak’s seam, so very carefully. ‘I’ll never call grey a boring colour again,’ Julian murmured. ‘There are so many shades to your scales and – it’s almost blue here, near the centre.’ Now his fingertips were petting at Garak’s seam itself, stroking up and down, maddeningly light. ‘Does this feel good? Can I touch you inside? I promise I’ll be gentle. You can tell me what you want me to do. Can I try putting my mouth on you?’
Garak reached down to cup Julian’s face and tilt his chin upwards. ‘I’m not your commander and you don’t have to continually seek my permission to enjoy yourself. I’m perfectly capable of telling you if I don’t like what you’re doing. I can see how much you want to explore, so go ahead.’
Julian’s eyes lit up and he pressed a quick kiss to Garak’s palm before lightly nipping at his fingertips. Garak hissed and his other hand thumped against the wall to brace himself. Julian used his hands to gently spread Garak’s ajan and then dove right in, licking one broad stroke from well to peak. He mumbled something against Garak’s scales, and his unfathomably warm tongue kept darting back in like he was taking notes. He changed the angle of his approach and even managed to approximate a devastating side-to-side motion before moving onto the next experiment. Garak was losing his mind. His hands were pressing against the wall to hold himself up and his nails were scraping reflexively at the metal like that would somehow help. A particularly sharp jab of Julian’s tongue had him everting unintentionally, right in Julian’s face, but all that earned him was a delighted noise and a series of questions that he couldn’t begin to answer.
Then Julian slid two slim fingers into Garak, twisting them gently and incidentally rubbing up against the base of his thorn. ‘Oh,’ Julian said with a pleased little sigh while Garak struggled to breathe. ‘You feel wonderful inside. Sort of silky and clingy, and warmer than I was expecting.’ Garak could barely process the insane words coming out of Julian’s mouth. ‘I wonder if you’d let me fuck you,’ he mused. He’d clearly taken what Garak had said to heart about not asking about every little thing. Garak had perhaps made an error. Julian’s eyes flicked up to meet his without a single change to the slow twisting movements of his fingers. ‘Maybe you have it backwards. Maybe you were on-boarded for me,’ Julian teased.
And it was so clear that he didn’t believe what he was saying, that he was inviting Garak to share the joke. It was a demonstration of just how far gone he was that for a moment Garak actually considered the words seriously. Two high-energy plasma coils and a Cardassian spy – that will keep him occupied for a few weeks at least. What if he let this beguiling creature fuck him with whatever alien thorn he had between his legs? Maybe an Augment human would be strong enough to hold him down. Julian would writhe on top of him, taking his pleasure. A string of inane observations about the Cardassian body would spill from between those warm lips, which would be turned up in a joyful, trusting smile. Garak’s ajan throbbed. Yes. Yes, yes, yes.
Garak forced the correct words out from between his teeth. ‘I’m obviously not going to let you fuck me.’
‘Oh. Alright,’ Julian said easily, not even sounding particularly disappointed. He went right back to his latest experiment, which seemed to be shoving as much of Garak’s thorn down his throat as possible. That wasn’t even the most effective way to handle a thorn, but Garak couldn’t manage to provide a correction right at that moment. Then Julian’s other hand wrapped around the base of Garak’s thorn, presumably because he’d found the limits of his throat, and that was it. Garak tried to pull back as his rains fell, but Julian followed him, practically rubbing his face against Garak’s ajan right through the storm.
Julian watched Garak’s thorn withdraw into its sheath with great interest, his hands still spreading Garak’s ajan. Then he sat back on his heels. ‘If you don’t want me to fuck you, do you want to fuck me? Can you make that come back out again?’
Garak breathed out heavily through his nose. ‘My sotl is fine where it is. I have a rather better idea.’ He wrapped a hand around Julian’s arm and hauled him up, before pressing him back against the wall. Julian’s eyes went very wide and he blinked rapidly, possibly due to the way Garak was leaning in, a hair’s breadth from his face, with his teeth just visible in his smile. Julian smelled of him now, which was unsurprising given the way he’d let himself be drenched.
Garak kept him pinned to the wall with one hand and undid the lower fastenings on his crude uniform with the other. He didn’t take his eyes off Julian’s face, and located his thorn by touch alone. It was hot, quite dry, blunt, and larger than Garak had been expecting. He swallowed and let himself indulge in a brief moment of exploration before he pressed his hand firmly against Julian’s thorn, fingertips massaging gently at the base. ‘Why don’t you show me what you like?’ Garak suggested smoothly. ‘I want to see how you move. If you want to fuck something, you can fuck my hand.’
Julian made a lovely sound and his hands clamped down on Garak’s shoulders. His hips sort of jerked forward, like he was trying to move away from the wall. ‘Yes, yes please, let’s do that,’ he babbled. He hadn’t stopped moving. Instead of a sinuous, twisting writhe, his whole lower body seemed to fall into an odd thrusting rhythm. ‘Can you circle my cock with your fingers and, ah, squeeze a bit, gently?’ Julian asked breathlessly.
Garak was able to deduce what Julian wanted from context, but that was hardly the point. ‘I don’t think so. You like this too, don’t you? Moving desperately against my hand, half-mindless with need?’
Julian made a rather sharp sound in his throat in response. His eyes squeezed shut and he pulled Garak in closer with a surprising degree of strength before burying his stained face in Garak’s tunic. ‘Yes,’ he whispered, just loud enough for Garak to catch it. ‘Fuck. Do whatever you want.’
‘I intend to,’ Garak murmured before tilting his head to bite at the side of Julian’s neck. It was indulgent. He was reasonably sure humans didn’t work that way, but Julian’s neck was lovely, and the angle it was displayed at was so tempting. He was mindful of the thin, scaleless skin beneath his teeth and kept his nips far lighter than he would for another Cardassian. To his surprise, Julian arched at the feel of teeth and he thrust his thorn violently against Garak’s hand. ‘Harder,’ he gasped. ‘More.’
Garak obliged him, caught in a great wave of hungry arousal. He was careful not to break skin, but he bit and sucked at Julian’s neck and down to his shoulder, yanking that distasteful uniform out of the way. He was fuelled by Julian’s ecstatic responses, the frantic speed at which he shoved his thorn into Garak’s hand. What would that strange, fierce movement feel like if Julian were thrusting into Garak’s ajan? As blunt and straightforward as human conversation, no doubt, but irrepressible, unstoppable and tidal. Maybe it would hurt enough for his implant to turn it into pleasure. Maybe it would leave him with pretty bruises that he could play with later when he got bored.
Garak obliged Julian further and circled his fingers as he’d been asked, squeezing a little harder than ‘gently’. Julian yowled, but his hand flashed down to encircle Garak’s before he could pull back. He was fast, faster than Garak, at least when properly motivated. ‘Just like that, don’t move, don’t stop, god, I just, I’m close, I— ’
Julian was stunning as his rains took him. Garak found himself staring at his face, his mouth, the way his lashes lay on his cheeks as his eyes shut. He committed every detail to memory, though he knew he’d be better served by turning such painstaking retention to the Romulan reports he’d been handed. Still. Garak withdrew his hand and scrutinised the thick, pearlescent rains coating it with mingled fascination and distaste.
Julian cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘The en suite’s through the bedroom, just through that door, if you’d like to clean up too,’ he said. ‘Would you stay, after? Even just for a little while? My bed is broadly big enough for two, if they didn’t mind getting close.’
It was painfully clear how tentative the offer was and that Julian was braced for a rejection. It would be an easy way to maintain some distance and Julian would likely even blame himself, and not Garak, if he left. But getting closer had its uses and Julian had the air of someone who would open up with only the most gentle questioning. That was useful, Garak reminded himself. Even Julian’s skewed perspective of this base and this cell could easily hold some grains of truth.
‘I do find this place a little cold for my tastes,’ Garak said. ‘If you’re not put off by the potential threat of having your blankets stolen during the night, I would be more than happy to accept your generous invitation.’
Julian’s answering smile was so very bright and earnest.
Having availed themselves of Julian’s facilities, Garak slipped into bed beside him. He couldn’t quite help letting out a small sigh of satisfaction. Julian radiated heat like a sun-warmed rock and he had no compunctions about draping himself across Garak’s body. He had stripped down to a single undergarment that only covered him from waist to mid-thigh. Garak let one of his hands drift along the ridgeless planes of Julian’s back. There were very fine hairs all along his skin, it seemed, and it was a lovely sensation beneath his palm and fingertips. Julian gradually went lax with Garak’s touch, his warm weight resting entirely against Garak’s body.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, did your parents arrange your commission?’ Garak asked softly, keeping his cadence in rhythm with his caresses.
Julian tensed a little, which was a shame. ‘No. They – I mean they were the ones who did this to – to their son. It should have barred me from Starfleet entirely. It nearly did.’
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried. You must think me a terrible guest. Maybe I should leave,’ Garak said, tensing in response and slipping as much guilty regret into his tone as he thought he could get away with.
The loose grip that Julian had around Garak’s shoulder tightened. ‘No, it’s alright. Stay. Please.’
Garak let himself relax back against the bed. ‘I only… I just think what an unlikely set of circumstances led to me meeting you. I hadn’t even made it off Cardassia Prime before I got assigned here. I’m glad I had the chance to meet you. I’m glad you weren’t barred from Starfleet.’
Julian was silent for a long moment. Garak’s hand gradually drifted up to pet the back of his neck and trace along the lines of his shoulders. ‘It happened about two years after I discovered what my parents had done. I was researching emancipation – a legal status that allows one to be free of one’s parents, before reaching adulthood. I had hit a dead end. I knew I couldn’t pursue it as a serious option without coming under far too much scrutiny. I didn’t trust that my parents had covered their tracks properly,’ he added bitterly.
‘And I was right to doubt them. Starfleet found me that year. They knew what I was. They knew my secret. Frankly, I was terrified. I thought they’d…’ he trailed off.
Garak made a sympathetic noise and curled his other arm protectively around Julian’s waist.
‘I needn’t have worried. Commander Sloan said that it wasn’t my fault, that Starfleet understood that this had been done to me without my consent and that it made perfect sense for me to want to escape from the people who had done this to Jule— to me. There was a program, you see, for young Federation citizens in unusual circumstances. I passed their tests with flying colours, of course.’ He didn’t sound as bitter as he had before, but reminiscing about his past performance clearly brought him no pleasure. Garak missed the preening smugness that had been in his tone when he’d discussed his research. Of course it was no surprise to Garak that Julian had apparently passed “Starfleet’s tests”. He wondered if Julian’s parents had any idea where he was, or whether they had even been left alive. Garak would have tied up any loose ends had he been in charge of that operation.
‘I owe Commander Sloan – I owe Starfleet – everything. They saved me.’
‘Then it seems I owe them a great deal too,’ Garak said softly.
He felt Julian smile against the scales of his shoulder, but he couldn’t help register the expression as a sad one. He’d switched to running his nails through the hair on Julian’s head. It was a very different texture to Garak’s own – more substantial, somehow.
You’re not a real lieutenant. You should try and leave and discover what lengths they’d go to in order to stop you. You’re as much a prisoner here as I am. The words burned on the tip of Garak’s tongue. But it wasn’t the right time. He should sow doubt gradually, only after he’d become a proper confidant to Julian. There was a chance that Julian had caught the edge of Garak’s manipulation – that he’d consciously chosen to share such a personal story to coax Garak into staying the night. If so, he only hoped that Julian was oblivious to Garak’s true motivations and assumed it was some morbid fascination about Augments that drove his curiosity.
If Garak didn’t manage to escape in a timely fashion, the Obsidian Order would come for him. Of this, he was certain. I could persuade them to let you live. You could come back with me. I’m sure you could be of great use to Cardassia. Would you like that? You wouldn’t have to work in a basement. I could take you on walks through our great cities. They would stare, yes, but it wouldn’t be because you were an Augment. To them you would just be a human, a defector even – maybe you could even be granted citizenship, true citizenship, once you’d proved your use and your loyalty to the State. I could keep you.
Even staring up at the ceiling, with Julian’s face buried in his shoulder, Garak did not permit a single one of those thoughts to touch his expression. He had time to work out how best to approach this situation as it unfolded. All he knew was that he could make better use of Julian than the Federation. Garak took gentle hold of one of Julian’s unresting hands and slid their fingers together, pleased with the certain knowledge that he was getting away with something.