Severed Dreams [PG-13] copyright by Sophie Masse - soma@johnabbott.qc.ca *Sigh* All right, standard disclaimer time; STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures. In other words, they own everything except what I extracted from my own fecund imagination This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Note - A lot of assumptions and theories have been formed about Elim Garak's past, some of which touching the extraordinary while others seem fairly well grounded. As such, I have my own idea of what Garak's former life was like, and gave a small hint in my previous story Brush away the Skeletons. In Severed Dreams, I expend the theory, changing some aspects while detailing others. Those of you who has read Brush away the Skeletons will note that some details don't concur with it; but that was intentional. These stories are purely for those who are interested in Garak as a character and Cardassian society in general. I plan on releasing three books in all; * Severed Dreams - which talks of Garak's life before the Order * Awakening - which recounts Garak's life *in* the Order * A New Beginning - which talks of Garak's arrival on DS9 ===================================================== SEVERED DREAMS / BOOK ONE / DS9 [Told by Garak's POV] copyrighted by Sophie Masse 1996 - soma@johnabbott.qc.ca ===================================================== Main Characters [alphabetical order] ------------------------------------ Deral Garak [Brother] - Mention Elim Garak [Main] Gul Minola Ducett [Associate OO] Gul Enabran Tain [Head OO] Gul Weis Theldar [Associate OO] Mila Dolari [Housekeeper Tain] Telim Garak [Father] Tosal Garak [Sister] - Mention Zeean Garak [Mother] ====================================================== Misc. information ----------------- Hawrk - A panther-like creature found in the Sokath's rainforests. Stunakii - A vulture-like bird living in the Dorokor deserts. Nardol - A furry domesticated animal with astonishing hearing. House - When one is as prestigious as Telim Garak, one can afford to dwell within a House, as opposed to normal quarters or appartement. The House can be comprised of several habitats scattered over a limited land. The main House is large, manor-like in it's luxury and space. ======================================================= Geographical overview --------------------- The Garak family lives in Harkuun Province, on the fringes of Tolaki city. Skirting the urban network is a chain of hills separating Harkuun from Delavaar appropriately called the Tolakian Hills, given it's name after much political dispute with Delavaar who claimed as much rights to it as Harkuun. Tolaki city is divided in five main sectors; *First Generation District: here is where the homeless lives. A few military shelters have been erected here and there, but have long been abandoned. Crimes are at their highest, and it is not suggested to roam alone in this part of the city if one is not equipped with a weapon. *Second Generation District: little better than the first, this sector belongs primarily to students and families of low income. A few apartments are still in use, but most are converted lofts. *Third Generation District: middle class Cardassians dwell here. This sector is filled with both apartments and houses, educational institutions and public services. It occupies most of Tolaki's land surface. *Fourth Generation District: there is no line between third and fourth generation district as obvious as those between first and second and so on. It is still a primarily middle class society which occupies it, although most of the habitats are now official Houses. Central Command has second Quarters here. *Fifth Generation District: this sector is purely for military use only. Here dwells all high ranking officials, both from the Obsidian Order and CC. Although the Order has established second Quarters here, it's power is still more greatly influenced in Obsidia city, not in Tolaki. Some have rumored that the Order established itself here to spy upon Central Command, yet no one knows for certain. Central Command has Main Quarters here, and it is within one of the most prestigious Houses of the sector Elim's family reside. North of Harkuun, there is Delavaar Province, which over time has become to be known as "Obsidia's Darkest". Indeed, west of Delavaar is Obsidia city, where Elim will reside when enrolled. It encompasses seven main Districts, all similar to Tolaki's in purpose, though no one except Tain, a few Associates and personnel may take residence in the seventh, where the Obsidian Order has Main Quarters. Now, on with the story . . . =========== CHAPTER ONE =========== When I was twelve, my Father told me a story that would, unknowing to me at a time of such innocence, mold my future into the dismal past it has become. A dreary tale told to boys who misbehaved; boys such as I who considered climbing the Tolakian Hills adventurous and exhilarating. I had come home that following evening, clothes in shreds, blood staining my skin and dignity severely bruised. My friends had already run to their respective Houses, laughing boisterously and exchanging rude comments regarding my misfortune. I suppose at a time of chaotic ruling and teachings,such behaviors was tolerated; all children -- and of course I speak of *Cardassian* children -- were indeed expected to act as such; demonstrate power over another's weaknesses. Such predictability. I never acted as such. But then I suppose I was never what you'd assume to be a normal individual. Perhaps I needn't to look so far to excuse my Father's conduct after all. . . perhaps I had never really showed any promise in the first place. So, ego crushed, and a back which fared little better, I shied away from my scolding Mother and dragged my aching body up the spiral stairs of our House, hoping Father would not take notice as I slipped quietly in my room. But *nothing* went unnoticed to Father. I had always assumed he was more than what appearance offered; a stunakii's eyes well matched for those nardol's ears, and a hand faster than *any* hawrk. Quite a terrifying thing, for a small child, to think that your Father is a sum of Cardassia's worst monsters. Perhaps it was a good thing I had completed my school work, polished Mother's cutlery and burnished one of Father's military Cuirasses. It seemed the more I slaved around the House, the less excuses I left behind for Father to use against me. But I suppose that even if those had miraculously disappeared, Father would have somehow found something else to use. Another psychological tool to labor on his sorry excuse of a son. Snuggled deeply within the covers, I cocked a glance at the time and smiled softly against the pillow. I was proud that I had managed to complete all my chores and still have the leeway to bed before my curfew. My soul refueled on pride and, as a dream, the remnants of my ugly day drifted off, away to a place where it is forgotten, but not quite erased. My eyes heavy with exhaustion, I shifted to a position where suddenly, sounds from across the hall reached my ears. Sleep refusing to cuddle me now, I focused on the voices with a frown, recognizing my sister Tosal's deep feminine voice and Father's unmistakable baritone. Repressing a shudder, I tried to ignore them and focus on sleep. Tosal had always been Father's proudest. My sister was already enrolled in Central Command, barely touching the age of twenty. I always knew Father had a penchant for the military, Vice-High Gul of CC himself. Doubtless a brother's jealousy you might remark, but I nonetheless maintain my assumption that Tosal had been brought in by Father's influence. My eighteen year old brother Deral would be quick to follow. I'd be so lucky if he ever offered *me* a post. As my mind finally relinquished to sleep's tantalizing embrace, my door -- which I had carefully closed in the hopes that Father would walk by and ignore my room all together -- flew open to Father's unforgiving hands. He stalked in, still dressed in CC's angular uniform, face ashen and fists curled at his side. I moaned softly, eyes tightly shut and face peaceful as I desperately feigned slumber. Father merely threw aside the bed covers, revealing my wiry frame tightly tolled up in a ball. He sneered. Through the slits of my eyelids, I saw him look down at me with pure revulsion. "Look at you boy!" he exclaimed. "Sleeping like a woman!" Frowning, he bent down and slapped my face with naked violence. "Don't try that with me young man," he warned. "You know full well I can tell when you're not sleeping." I sat up, face tentatively sullen, aware that fear touched my eyes no matter how inured I trained myself to be. Father always saw it, and he always used it. As I've said; stunakii's eyes. "Your Mother's told me where you've gone today," he said firmly. I chuntered my regret; fake, insincere, and Father slapped me again, this time his fist wound in a tight ball. I flinched, but made a valorous attempt not to shy away. My Father leered at me. "Why do you constantly lie to me, Son? What in Great Gul's name did I ever do to deserve the likes of a miserable boy like you?" I looked up callously, trying to match my Father's cultured stare. It was useless; after an unbearably awkward moment, I self- consciously averted my eyes back to my hands. Piercing, reviling, my Father's incisive words went on. "Did you ever see Tosal running off to play in the Hills? Even Deral would not risk such a foolhardy excursion." He took a carefully measured breath and stared at me savagely. "I have worked particularly hard to get where I am today, and the least you could do in exchange for the food I lay on your plate is show some respect!" I winced at the strength his voice carried and closed my eyes, expecting another stinging slap. Instead, I felt the bed undulate, and when I cautiously opened an eye to survey the situation, Father was sitting on the edge of my bed, regarding me petulantly. "I don't ask much of you," he said with a weary sigh. "I just want you to make me proud." My tense back relaxed vigilantly. Uncharacteristically, Father's voice had leveled, and his features, I remarked, took on a warily affectionate quality scarcely seen in a man of such reputable cruelty. "I may not show it, but you mean a great deal to me, Elim." My heart suddenly raced. My name! For the first time since an interval I care not estimate, my Father had actually uttered my proper name. Not son, not boy, not you. Elim. Somehow, as I looked up ardently, respect suddenly flowed unconditionally as we held eachother's scrupulous gaze. He shrugged and leaned upon the untouched side of my bed where my feet had yet to reach. "If I'm so hard on you Elim, it's because I see so much potential in you. You're unusually clever and bright for a boy your age; Teachers constantly praise me on your work and manners at school. They say you overwhelm them with all your grown-up courtesy," he smiled. A smile! I couldn't help but grin back. What to expect when a father compliments his son for the first time since he left his mother's womb? Even if the smile *was* cutting and cloaking a hint of doubt behind the caustic lips, it didn't matter. A smile was still a smile. Perhaps my Father had forgotten how to do so in a long time. I brought my knees to my chest and curled my arms around, waiting to hear more. Father simply shook his head and snickered, looking down. "But then just as you begin to earn my respect, you go and do something like this." When he looked back up at me, all love had drained. Only the revulsion of before lingered, mixed now with hatred. His smile was gone. Mine faded almost as quickly. "I suppose I deluded myself in thinking you were strong enough to live up to my expectations." He leaned forward, his unforgiving ice eyes lancing my soul painfully. "Did you ever hear the tale of the boy who meddled with the Obsidian Order?" I shuddered violently at the name and tightened my grip on my knees, desperately trying to seek a warmth and comfort that would never come from my Father. He ignored me and went on reciting. "'There was once a boy who thought nothing of life. A boy who considered indulging in pleasure more important than following his obligations. 'Well, one day, that boy decided to scour some hidden caves in the south of Harkuun Province, looking for treasures and excitement. 'Instead, the boy stumbled upon a concealed room, a chamber full of information not meant for little boys' eyes. But the boy was excited, heart pounding, thrilled that he had discovered something his friends hadn't dreamed of ever finding. If only he would be so lucky. 'Not three days passed by before a delegation of Obsidian Operatives rapped at his door. They took the little boy away, and locked him up inside an interrogation chamber for a week. When the little boy couldn't provide the Order with what they wanted, they killed him then his family, and erased all mentions of their existence in the Central Network. Some of his friends knew what had transpired, but did nothing to correct the injustice. They knew better . . . no one went against the Obsidian Order unless seeking torture and death.' He paused for effect, watching my reaction. I'm certain I provided good entertainment, sitting there shivering, wandering thoughts of torture and pain stabbing my mind, rumors of what Interrogation Chambers were really like. Not gossip was their near omnipotence in Cardassia's political standing. They even outranked Central Command, which in a way solaced me. I didn't know why, and I still don't. Perhaps it could have been a sadistic thought, a passing wish that if ever my Father would betray Cardassia, the nefarious Obsidian agents would come and take him away, lock him up in one of those interrogation chambers forever. "So you see," he went on. "You shouldn't mess with things you don't understand." What was there to not understand? I hurt myself climbing some stupid rock, for Great Gul's sake! It's not as if I was trying to unravel some terrible secret the governments were hiding from us. I realize now, not without feeling a wave of illness, that Father was probably ranting and raving, clinging to anything he knew would abash, humiliate or frighten me. Nothing made sense, every lecture scattered with chaotic words aimed at dispiriting me. Across the bed, Father looked at me a moment more, waiting perhaps for a response. Resolutely, I gave none, simply looked back at him without emotion. It was a useful trick I had taught myself. Show no feeling and always try to act indifferently when insults were hurled at you. With time, I quickly discovered it annoyed Father to a paroxysm. So I suppose the blow I received across the head was understandable; perhaps he was angry that his concocted story hadn't elicited an effect out of me. He shook his head and swift as a hawrk, left my room and closed the door clamorously on his way. I winced at the sound, and carefully rearranged my bed cloths, shivering and whimpering quietly. My head rung with the aftershocks of his knock, and I fought down a wave of nausea as I slipped back into the covers, not able to bring myself to pad into the bathroom to immerse my ashen face in cool water; I might, after all, run into him. When he was not at Central Command, he was usually at the tavern, working himself into a drunken state with kanar and his Associates. Yet when he was home, I remained in my room, drawing solace from it in some odd way. But I realized that my Father had even managed to turn that into a nightmarish little chamber full of discordant memories. The record had been broken. The House was now completely unbearable to me and I had to leave, quickly. Though quickly would not come soon enough. At twelve, I had better luck surviving a hawrk's attack than Cardassia's unforgiving streets. Even the tame city of Tolaki where we lived would not condone my detached presence easily. Finding work would be near to impossible, and frolic would come at a price which intrinsically required work to provide. Today I wisely recognize that play was not a given right, yet knowing my Father had taught me that when one possessed his importance, disport was something easily afforded. A few minutes later, my mother strode in, wordlessly tucked me in, left a gentle kiss on my barely ridged forehead and left. Somehow, this caused my tears to double, and I cried softly, my face buried against my harsh pillow. Eventually, I fell asleep, a lingering thought circling my head like a stunakii upon it's prey. I never recalled the exact thought, or the image accompanying it, but I do remember it to be associated with the Obsidian Order . . . perhaps I was thinking how glorious I would feel if I were in it, outranking my Father and making him pay for the humiliation of that one single night. I could endure the beatings, the slaps and the shoving, but I could not bear the insults . . . the degrading comments. It tore at my heart and twisted it with an unforgiving claw. No wonder I later preferred to ignore those terrible times . . . but burying it deep hasn't proved effective. At last when I enrolled in the Order, it was for revenge, not wholesome ambition. =========== CHAPTER TWO =========== Ironic. The Obsidian delegation did indeed rap at my door one day. But I was twenty-one, living under my own roof, and expecting their arrival. Yet as I opened the door to three fashionably dressed Cardassians, my heart raced, and my mind unwittingly recalled the Obsidian tale my Father had recounted once. Suddenly, I felt like a little boy, unable to comfortably reach the knob as I frowned up on these three imposing Operatives. Outwardly, I coughed mildly and politely ushered them in. The most massive of them stood out and swept my abode's architecture with an appraising look. Casually glancing at several paintings I owned, he finally turned to me and held out his hand. We shook and he nodded at me. "Thank you for receiving us, Mr. Garak. I am Gul Enabran Tain. These are my associates, Gul Weis Theldar and Gul Minola Ducett." I nodded at Theldar, a lanky man compared to Tain, yet imposing in his own way I suppose. Sharp nose, nice smile as he grinned and shook my hand. The other, a woman, ignored my proffered hand and kept a watchful eye on me as I self-consciously retracted it. "Don't mind her," Tain said casually as he stepped further within the den. "She would suspect her own mother if she were not dead." I caught Ducett's reprimanding glance, and smiled in spite of myself. The woman eased her features and finally offered her hand to me. "You must excuse me," she said with a slick voice. "I don't often leave the Order's grounds. It's a little distracting." I nodded comprehensively. On the other side of the room, Tain turned to me with a frown, his hands locked behind his back. "You don't speak very much, Mr. Garak. I had expected a stuttering fool upon my arrival. Candidates are always so intimidated by our presence. Great Gul knows why," he smiled benignly. I smiled slightly, trying to mask the fool Tain had referred to. Indeed, I was little more nervous than a teen confronted with his first love. "I make it a policy never to speak if nothing of importance is to be said," I replied, mustering all the self-control in my being. Evidently impressed, Tain nodded and went to sit in front of me. Almost immediatly, Ducett and Theldar followed suit. Left standing and looking rather foolish, I took the remaining seat and rested my hands on my lap, unable to find a more constructive way of using them. "We'll get right to the point," Tain said solemnly. He smiled and glanced at Theldar. "We've been studying your dossier, Mr. Garak. And I must say we're very impressed." Every fiber in my being screamed at me to stifle my response, but I was forced to relinquish to my curiosity. Narrowing an eye, I inquired, "How much so?" Tain forgave my impertinence and smiled the slightest of smiles. "Let's just say the Order doesn't usually waste it's time visiting the candidate's homes." I nodded and leaned back. Inwardly, I scolded myself severely, informing myself that Tain would not tolerate any more insolent inquiries. Theldar finally spoke, and I looked at him with a start, realizing I had forgotten about the two associates. "The Order believes you would make a fine addition to it's circle. In fact, the board's decision to grant you full Enrollment was unanimous." I'm certain I blushed at the compliment. At the very least, I could feel the thunderous rush of blood drumming against my ears, and the sudden heat which spread under my skin. It was a feeling that made you almost sick, a sensation that pushed you to wish you were somewhere else. Foolish memories of Teacher calling me up to the front invaded my mind, no doubt brought up by it's associated feeling. I took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the fact my heart was fighting it's way out my chest. Tain nodded calmly at his associate. "Yes, the Order certainly feels you have all the qualities we search for in candidates." He took a deep breath, then tilted his head with a slight frown. "Tell me, what are your reasons to enroll in the Order?" The question stung my brain like fire. I choked back the response, wisely deciding that 'I wish to enroll because I want to outrank my father because he made me feel like a fool when I was twelve because I want to kill him because I want to kill him and because I want to kill him,' was improper. I felt tears burning behind my eyes, but I blinked them away quickly. "I suppose my reasons are as good as any," I replied, forcing the words to a stable cadence. "I always strived for the best, and to my knowledge, the Order *is* the best. That's all there is to it." I chuckled and shrugged. "Pardon my lack of imagination." Ducett nodded seriously. "We appreciate honesty." At this, Tain lifted his heavy frame from the sofa and walked over to one of the paintings he had earlier admired. "However, there are considerably more things of which we frown upon than those we enjoy. For example, marriage, affairs or some such are strictly forbidden by the Order, especially within the network. So if you are presently involved, it would perhaps be wise to--" "I'm not," I interrupted harshly. Promptly shrinking at Tain's forbidding glance, I shut the hell up and waited until he was finished. "Moreover," he continued. "Frivolous behaviors are prohibited. No drinking, or wasting time at festivities. The Order demands much of your time, and even if you invest it's correct amount, it would be useless if your mind were not connected to your body." I nodded quietly, watching him carefully as he moved to another painting. He interrupted his lecture and turned toward me with a mildly surprised look on his hardened features. "Quite a collector Mr. Garak. I had no idea some were still taken with Deval's work." I smiled shyly and waved at the cluster of art work. "My Mother once held a position at the Deval Gallery. She had several opportunities to . . . collect some of his work over time." He seemed to hold my gaze for a second, then he turned back to the art. When he spoke again, his voice had dwindled back to professionalism. "Also, most importantly, the Order depends on the allegiance of it's operatives. Secrecy is paramount, obedience equal in importance. Defy orders and you will be promptly relegated from the Order. Speak a word that is not to be spoken, and you will be executed." He risked a glance at my reaction, but I forced myself to give none. He nodded his approval and walked back to me. I rose, as did Ducett and Theldar, and Tain offered me his hand. When we shook, his grip was noticeably less impersonal than it had first been. There was a warmth attached to it, and I was immediatly drawn to it. Right then and there, as Tain uttered his next words to me, it was clear as crystal where my duties lay. "Welcome to the Order, Mr. Garak. You will make a fine operative." I smiled and looked beyond at his Associates, feeling already entangled in the web of secrecy and excitement the Order was offering me. As I walked them toward the door, my mind uttered a silent vow. *I will not disappoint him.* Unfortunately -- and I can say this now for I have lived through it -- I did not prove to be a man of his word. ============= CHAPTER THREE ============= Why did I keep Mother's art work in my house anyway? I suppose it was the least I could have done when I left home. I remember it clearly, perhaps more so than I recall the contents of yesterday's breakfast. I was sixteen. At that age, I was now prepared to leave the Cimmerian lair which our House had become. Mother had abandoned all hopes of ever pleasing my Father, thus simply contented herself of traipsing her spindly frame around the House instead of cleaning and dusting. Her weight had declined to ill levels as she refused to eat days on end. Her eyes were burrowed deeply in their cavities, even more pronounced within her eyeridges as sleep refused to visit her at night. When I left that evening, she was nearing insanity. As she rambled on to herself, swaying in Great Father's rocking chair, she paused and looked up as I sauntered downstairs lugging three suitcases. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice nearly a whisper. The Healers had warned her to get rest, yet I could tell by her ashen face that she hadn't. I averted my eyes from her sorry sight, knowing that she was the only reason powerful enough to convince me to stay. I cleared my throat as I settled my luggage on the transporter pad. "I can't bear it any longer, Mother," I said, struggling not to look up at her and failing. In a moment, she was at my side, clawing at the jacket I had tailored myself. "You can't leave!" she whimpered hysterically. "This is your House, you're just a baby!" Her bony fingers traced my cheek urgently and I jerked away as her touch began to persuade me other than leaving. "I can't live here," I said curtly, turning to the pad to input coordinates. She grasped my arm, halting my movements. "Elim, I order you to stay here! You're not of Age yet!" This time, when I looked at her, anger crossed my eyes. She retracted her arm with fright, staring at me with a horrified rictus. Then I realized why. It was painfully obvious that my features mirrored those of my Father. Between Deral and Tosal, I was the sole sibling which looked increasingly like our Father. Frightened myself, I promptly took her in my arms and embraced her tightly, feeling her wiry arms grasping my back. "I won't be gone forever," I whispered. "I just need to be by myself for a while." She pulled away and stared at me lovingly. With a painful twinge I noticed the unhealthy charcoal lining her eyes and hollow cheeks. A cobalt bruise stained her grayish skin on her jaw, and her neckridges were scarred by three attempts at strangulation. I tightened my lips in a regretful smile and turned to leave. I had to save myself . . . I *chose* to save myself. She again grasped my arm. "Wait," she whispered. "I have something for you." She left quickly for her bedroom. I waited alone in the den, nervous that Father would arrive at any moment and destroy all possibilities of leaving. I completed the string of coordinates in the computer, knowing they would transport me to scanty quarters in Tolaki's second generation district. It was nothing next to five generation habitats, but it would suffice while I gathered currency for my purpose. A few minutes passed before Mother finally reemerged, clutching a stack of frames obviously too heavy for comfort. I immediatly went to her and unloaded her burden. Glancing down at the paintings, I frowned. "Your Deval collection? Don't you want these?" Mother nodded. "I do." She rested her hand on my forearm and smiled. "Which is why you'll return to give them back." I answered her smile and nodded. Adding the pile of art to my suitcases, I turned to her and said, "Will you tell Tosal and Deral I will miss them?" "Yes." I kissed her cheek. "Take care Mother." She blinked and tears rolled down her furrowed cheeks. "I will. Now go, before your Father comes home." I set the timer, instructed the computer to erase any mentions of this transport after it would be completed and stepped unto the pad amidst my luggage. I looked down at my Mother as the amber light began to shimmer around me. When my surroundings began to slowly fade, discordant images of my home and the unfamiliar lines of my new apartment dancing in front of me, I saw Mother capture her face in her hands, and beyond the railing I caught the front door swinging open to admit my Father. When he stalked into the den demanding why my Mother was crying like a pitiful pansy, I was gone. ============ CHAPTER FOUR ============ Obsidia city was all I had imagined. A city of latinum. As Tain's personal ground car entered leisurely inside the suburb's boundaries, my innate sense of decorum was the only thing preventing me from pressing my cheek against the glass window to peer at my surroundings. Breathtaking. Every corner of the city was little less than polished, and every edifices brimmed with opulence and elegance. I released the breath I had been holding and turned at the driver. "Obsidia's finest?" I asked with a smile. He laughed. "More like Obsidia's darkest," he said. He swung his head at me and flashed a disturbing smile. I settled back and said nothing else. As I pondered upon the meaning of his words, my mind was promptly snatched away as we rounded a corner. There were no homeless, I noticed. Not even civilians strolling through the streets to browse the shops. I frowned and again addressed the driver. "There's no people," I remarked dubiously. He nodded, sweeping his glance around. "We've entered Sixth Generation District. No one but Gul Tain, Associates and personnel are allowed here." I glanced back at the empty streets. "How many is that?" He shrugged. "Main Quarters occupies a couple of hundred officers. I think there's about a dozen Associates, and then there's Gul Tain. All in all, about four hundred people," he concluded, turning another corner. I caught sight of two Cardassians walking together, both arrayed in the official Cuirass. "That's not much for a District," I commented. He let out a laugh. "Gul Tain has a preference for extreme comfort. This way he has about six Houses to himself. Associates are given two or three, depending if they are liked or not, and then personnel are lodged in one. You'll find that enrolling in the Order has it's advantages." I widened my eyes. "That's an understatement. Is the Uniform required?" He nodded. "Personnel are obliged to wear it. Associates are given choice, while Gul Tain usually prefers civil clothes. You'll have to bear the Uniform during your training," he added with a sympathetic glance. "Ah," he said, turning the car inside a luscious garden. "We've arrived." I gasped in spite of myself. The garden stretched on for miles. At it's end lay Main Quarters; a flat black establishment lengthened horizontally about the size of ten Houses stacked side by side. From our location, it looked forbidden, unattainable . . . almost evil. The ground car made it's way carefully on the roadway, halting midway beside a gate. The driver exchanged a few words with the guard, then resumed it's trip. At last, it halted next to the entrance, and I disembarked. The sun shone brightly, I recall. Ducett was there . . . a much warmer and welcoming Ducett. I assumed she was delighted to greet me on *her* grounds. I smiled broadly at her and let the driver take care of my luggage. She took a step toward me. "Mr Garak, a pleasure to see you again. I trust your trip was a pleasant one?" I looked around, a mild look of surprise on my features. "I must admit, whatever may have happened on the way, it was worth the long journey. This is an astonishing establishment. It puts Central Command to shame," I said with a small proud smile. Ducett nodded smugly and locked her hands behind her back. "We like to think so," she said with a grin. Her smile was refreshingly inviting. I paused for a moment, noting how truly beautiful she looked from where she stood. Perhaps the harsh lighting of my appartement had not given credit to her beauty, but I saw it clearly now. I estimated she was about the same age as I, perhaps slightly more, and donned the longest raven hair I had seen in a Cardassian woman. I self-consciously averted my eyes and waved at the structure. "Is this where I'll be--" "Training? Yes," she replied. "But first," she added with a sly smile. "You've been invited to Gul Tain's House this evening for supper. I'm afraid he won't take no for an answer." I smirked gently. "Well, I suppose I have no choice." "No," she answered with a definite gleam in her eyes. "No, you don't." ============================================================================= Mila Dolari was the sweetest woman I had ever met, which of course excluded my Mother. The gentle handmaid greeted me inside Gul Tain's House, wearing a broad disarming smile. She clasped her hands together as she gave me a once over. "You must be Elim Garak!" she exclaimed with delight. "Such a handsome young man . . . please, please," she urged. "Come in." I stepped down the transporter pad, but resisted her offer to move any further. I waved at the transporter, explaining that Gul Ducett had yet to arrive. She nodded wisely and folded her arms. "I must say," she said, still gazing at me with a sweet smile. "Master Tain has spoken nothing but good on your subject. I was so happy to hear that." Her eyes darkened and she harumphed slightly. "You should see some of the Candidates he invites here," she said sternly. "All a bunch of rude arrogant sons of Tekarovs." She brought her hands to her mouth, widening her eyes in shock. "Oh, all my apologies Mr Garak. I hadn't meant to be so crude." Laughing, I rested my hand on her forearm, reassuring her with a softened look on my features. "You may find that swearing helps to relieve the soul. I can't deny doing so a couple of times myself," I admitted with a grin. As I expected, she looked relieved and laughed nervously. "Thank you. Master Tain frowns heavily on foul language. But I must admit; it's quite difficult to restrain yourself when Candidates treat you little more than a slave. I may be a handmaid, but I'm no Bajoran." I frowned and turned at the pad. "Indeed not." My words were drowned off as the hum of transportation filled the small room. On the pad, Gul Ducett appeared, wearing the most astonishing white gown I had yet to see. Of course, at twenty-one, there was much I had yet to see. I extended my hand to her as she stepped down. "You look quite lovely," I said, with all the tact and grace of a seventeen year old boy. She smiled frankly and nodded. "Thank you. May I say the same for you." I looked down at what I was wearing, something I had done myself. If there was one thing I could say well of myself were my tailoring skills. I was grateful that Mother had taught me that particular talent. It gave free reign to my moods and fashion taste. Great Gul only knew how I would look in today's popular fashion . . . . . . distasteful. I smiled at the compliment and walked with her into the main den. Gul Tain rose and smiled broadly. "Ah good, you've arrived. Mila," he said to the scullerymaid. "Please bring us each a glass of kanar. Thank you." When she had gone, both Ducett and I took a seat in front of him. Privately, I took a moment to gaze at Tain's impressive House, decorated in a style I hadn't yet encountered before. I marveled at the luxury of it all.Above us hung a breathtaking tapestry, a beautiful depiction of the Occupation. I moved my gaze to the rest of the abode, feeling increasingly insignificant at the magnitude of it all, knowing that there was perhaps six or seven more like it in his name elsewhere. I finally detached my attention from the House as Mila offered me a slender glass of kanar with a polite gentle smile on her lips. I took it with an answering grin, and focused on Tain as he spoke. "Now Elim," he said, taking his glass. "Tonight is a celebration. I don't want to hear anything about work or otherwise. Understand?" "Completely, Gul." He shook his head. "No no, call me Enabran, son. We're among friends here." Ducett flashed me a wide smile, full of meaning. I frowned and nodded quietly, taking a measure of kanar to moisturize my dry lips. I never was comfortable with friends. I had managed all my childhood to keep my life private enough so that acquaintances were possible, but not friends. I sighed. I suppose there's a first time to everything. As I thought of this, Ducett leaned toward me and took my hand in hers. She smiled and whispered, "Welcome to the Order, Elim. May we become good friends indeed," she added with a wink, and we all three touched glasses. =========================================================================== END OF BOOK ONE Send me comments to soma@johnabbott.qc.ca I welcome all, from praise to flames :) Regards, Sophie.