This story is a work of colorful and slashy fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents have been long-standing slaves of Paramount Pictures. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is probably because the author has written too many of these already. Forgive her. STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE is a Registered Trademark ® of Paramount Pictures. Copyright (c) 1996 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved. No infringement was meant. Well, not consciously anyway. TITLE: THE CUNNING PLOY AUTHOR: BGM RATING: PG-13 PAIRING: Garak/Ziyal/Bashir --------------------------------------------------------- So pathetic, these humans. So easily fooled by the merest of intelligent ploys. The Cardassian sighed contentedly and leaned back, kicking his feet up and enjoying the warm breeze tousling his raven mane. What a delightful turn of events these couple of months had taken. And while his only regret was deceiving his beautiful friend, he knew that if he wanted to see the haunting face anew he would have to lay low. It was the only way. He smiled again, and accepted the drink the lovely waitress offered him with a polite nod. Doctor Julian Bashir tapped his fingers impatiently over the table, scanning the small replimat. He was not here again. Skipping lunch as always. How many weeks had it been? Four? Five? He waited until the last possible minute and rose to leave. He was about to exit the area when his eyes followed the couple striding leisurely across the Promenade. They looked like father and daughter, though Julian knew better. //The bastard. Last time I let you make a fool out of myself again you filthy bastard.// He burst out of the replimat in a gust of wind, walking past them with a low grumble, not even bothering to offer a greeting. "What's wrong with him?" Tora Ziyal asked, squeezing Garak's hand as they went on with their habitual walk. Truly puzzled, Garak watched the young man retreat into the Infirmary. "I don't know. It seems he's irritated in some way." The young girl crumpled her features. "You don't suppose it's because of me, do you?" Garak looked down affectionately. "Now why would he think that, my sweet?" He placed a chaste kiss across her cheek, causing her to blink prettily. "Have you plans for this evening Elim?" "No my dear. Would you like to have dinner?" "I'd love to. My quarters, 1900." she grinned brightly. He nodded appraisingly as they walked off, and when they passed in front of the Infirmary, neither took the time to glance at the infuriated doctor. The quarters were dark when Ziyal entered. Not bothering with lights, she went to the terminal and cued in her codes. She waited a few moments before the face of her father illuminated the monitor. "Hello Ziyal," he smiled brightly. "How are you?" "Fine," she replied with an answering smile. "I am calling to relate to you my ... progress." Her smile grew wider, as did her father's. "In what way?" "He trusts me. He no longer has silly fears about me killing him." "Then you know what to do," Dukat nodded. All at once his features turned concerned. "Unless you do not wish to go through with this. It is still your choice ..." Ziyal's features were hard. "For a torturer and the murderer of my grand-father? Trust me father, I will have no remorse." "Good," Dukat grinned, ending the transmission. Countless light years away, the Cardassian looked thoughtful as he swivelled back in his chair. An officer glanced at him questioningly. "You look preoccupied." "Not preoccupied," he smiled. "Quite the contrary in fact. That was my daughter." "The hybrid?" There was hardly a note of affection in the Cardassian's voice. Neither was in Dukat's as he spoke again. "Yes. And I was just thinking how smart the good Major was in persuading to keep her. I just knew she'd come in handy one day or another." He laughed and looked up at his officer. "Her loyalties to me are pathetically strong, and we both know she will never have the cunning to keep herself hidden from the authorities." He enlaced his fingers in a prayer. "What a relief it is to know I will soon be disposed of two annoyances in my life." "I mean, what's gotten into him anyway? He acts as though we've never known each other!" Dax listened carefully to Bashir's account, shaking her head. "Maybe he _is_ in love ..." she suggested. This met with a bitter spat. "Please. The thought of them together is as ludicrous as ... as seeing you with Worf." He shook his head. "No, there must be something else at play here." Dax raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Do I detect a note of ... jealousy Julian?" The young man whipped his head up, frowning darkly. "Excuse me?" "You heard me." The surprise faded quickly. He shrugged and quickly drained his drink. "Maybe a year or two ago I would have been. But he's changed," he said morosely. "He's not Garak anymore." He sighed and lifted himself from the table, flashing a hollow smile at the Trill. "Thanks for the drink. I'll see you later." Just as Bashir turned the corner outside Quark's, Garak was entering the corridor on the far side, tugging mercilessly at his tunic. He cleared his throat several times before he finally got up the courage to ring the chime at the appointed door. Ziyal opened, draped in a soft flowing gown. "Hello," she said seductively, and stepped aside to let him in. He swallowed, and did so awkwardly. He went to sit quickly by the sofa, draping his hands over his lap as Ziyal slithered up to him with two glasses of kanar in her hands. She placed one in his hand, while she sat next to him with her own. She looked up into his eyes and smiled, causing a soft purr to vibrate deep within Garak's throat. //I can't bear it. I have to know why he's doing this. It's almost illegal. Hell, it _was_ illegal not a hundred years ago. It should still be.// Julian stomped along the corridor, knowing exactly where the couple had met for the evening. A quick inquiry directed at the computer had taken care of that. He was determined to break this up. It no longer made sense. It was just too ridiculous to be serious. The two glasses of unfinished kanar rested upon the glass table while Ziyal wound her hands around the tailor's broad neck. "Have I told you how attractive you are?" she whispered, leaning in to brush her lips against his. He whimpered pathetically, and Ziyal repressed a wave of nausea as she moved closer to the Cardassian. //Any moment now ... please let it be any moment ...// Her wishes came true. As she nuzzled into his neck and kissed the leathery skin, he slumped against her, pressing his heavy weight against her. The toxic had done its job. A coo of delight escaped her lips as she probed for the telltale heartbeat. When she found none, she leaned back and let him fall limply face first into the cushions. "A shame I did not have time to make you suffer more, but at least you are gone." She rose swiftly and went to retrieve the small disrupter her father had given her before parting. She set it to vaporising power and aimed it steadily at Garak's corpse. Right then the chime ringed. "Come on Garak, I know you're in there! Ziyal, Garak, open this door right now!" Julian took a step back, fearing the worst. He tried to shake images of Garak and Ziyal in the throes of passion and quickly uttered his entry code. The door slid opened, and he gasped in horror. "Get out!" the girl shouted, and fired the weapon in his direction. She did so on an impulse, thus missed him by only an inch, singing his clothes. He dove behind the couch and tapped his insignia, calling frantically for help. "Ziyal! Stop this, it's over! You can't escape." "You're right. It is over. What is the use in fighting you? I have already done my job. And father will come and take me away from this place as soon as he can." Bashir peeked over the edge of the couch, seeing her drop the weapon to the floor. She was smiling at the heavy weight on the couch. "He is much more attractive dead, do you not think?" Julian sank back to the floor, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to swallow down his fear. After a brief moment, he stood, then staggered to the other side, touching the Cardassian's neck with his fingers. No pulse. No life. Dead. He choked back a sob and willed himself not to look back at the vicious girl. He knew that if he would, she would be dead by the time Odo arrived. When eventually he did, Julian stood and asked for a tricorder. Someone slapped one in his palm and he bent down to study the readings more carefully. At first scan, it was confirmed that Garak was very much dead, not even a delta wave to indicate coma. At second scan, Bashir frowned. A third, then a fourth. The fifth, which had been set on a detailed scan, caused his eyes to wide. He looked up, and choked on his own words. Elim Garak watched the beautiful sunset, marvelling again at the splendour that Risa offered. He chuckled to himself and drained his glass of kanar. A moment later, a scantily clad waiter tapped his shoulder politely and gave him a note. He smiled, and opened it. 'I have witnessed the reports. He is dead, and the girl is in custody. She will be trialed next week for charges of murder.' "Excellent," he said brightly to no one in particular. He crumpled the paper and slipped it into his pocket, curling both his hands beneath his head. By this time next week he'd return to DS9. Ziyal would be gone, not allowed a communique to her father to explain the deception. The pathetically loyal Serhak was dead, having been foolish enough to accept his former Gul's proposition that he pose as himself for 'covert' reasons, which Garak had of course never bothered to detail. Dukat would go on believing he was dead, not foolish enough to risk his neck by returning and verifying the proof for himself. And the doctor ... well, he would give the doctor one hell of a scare that was certain, but he would do everything to repay any inconvenience he'd caused the beautiful young man. And he hoped with all his heart that he would accept him. Welcome the real Garak back. *Preferably in his bed*, he chuckled, before drifting to a content sleep under the bright, warm sun. THE END