“You surprised me,” I said, reminding myself to breathe. “I expected you to come from the other direction.”

“I wanted to get out of my child’s costume. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Please,” I laughed. “I’m relieved. To be truthful, I’m not terribly comfortable around those outfits.”

“Really? Are they too revealing for you?” she asked.

“Not at all. The design puts my teeth on edge.” It was her turn to laugh.

“Amazing, isn’t it? People seem to love the way they look.”

“I don’t think it’s the way the costume looks that they love,” I offered.

“Well,” she smiled modestly, “I’m not complaining. It keeps the dabo wheel spinning.”

“Which pleases Quark to no end,” I added.

“Indeed.” She took one of the chairs, and I sat in one across from her.

“Elim, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Elim Garak.”

“Ziyal spoke well of you. She was particularly grateful for your kindness. This always intrigued me.”

“Why?” I asked, knowing full well what was coming.

“You’re a Cardassian.”

“There’s nothing I can do about that, I’m afraid.” We looked at each other for a long moment, and the distance felt even greater. I wondered if anyone had ever made the crossing.

“I think Ziyal once mentioned that you were a teacher.” I shifted the focus onto her. “

In a manner of speaking. I’m a counselor. When I’m not being a dabo girl, of course. My work here is to counsel people out of their latinum.”

“And on Bajor?” I asked.

“I counsel people out of their nightmares from the Occupation,” she said, without any inflection.

“Ah,” I replied, with as genial a smile as I could muster.

“And you’re a tailor.”

“I am.”

“Have you always been a tailor?”

“Has anyone always been anything?”

“Were you trained as one?”

“In a manner of speaking. For that and other things.”

“Like?”

“I worked as a gardener for a period,” I replied. She was unapologetic about her questions. Either she had a great appetite for information about other people . . . or something else was going on.

“I love to garden,” she said.

“Really? You’re very fortunate then. Bajor has a salubrious climate for growing things.”

“Oh. So you’ve been to Bajor?” she asked.

“No. Not really.”

“ ‘Not really’?” she repeated with a bemused look.

“I stopped over . . . once. On the way here actually. Just long enough to transfer to a shuttle. But your climate is well known.”

“In Cardassia,” she added.

“Yes. Among other places, I’m sure.” A game was in full operation now, and I felt excited and challenged to find out just what the game was.

“What’s your favorite plant?” she asked.

“The Edosian orchid,” I replied without thinking.

“Yes,” she nodded. “It has an extraordinary blossom.”

“Have you grown them?” I asked.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t have the patience.”

“It’s not so much patience, I think, as it is the willingness to live with their mystery.”

“How do you mean?” She was a genuinely curious person.

“They’re deceptive. They appear to be rather common at first, but if they’re treated well . . . if you watch for the clues carefully . . . they’ll almost tell you how to grow them.”

“Ah, but I was never under the impression that they were common.” Her smile was deeply engaging, and I felt somehow that the distance had narrowed. We had come to an understanding.

“But I must get some sleep. The dabo tables spin early tomorrow and I’m on a shuttle back to Bajor in the evening.”

We rose. She held her hand out to me. It’s an unaccustomed gesture for me, but I took it. Her grip was warm and firm; my senses were alert.

“When you return, I hope you’ll visit my shop. I’d be happy to serve you in any way,” I said.

“That’s very kind. Thank you, Elim.” A familiar, pleasant sensation went through me when she said my name. “And I, too, would be pleased to serve you however I could.” She squeezed my hand slightly and left the way she came. The understanding, I thought as I watched her graceful strength move away, was that this was only the beginning of the game.

18

Entry:

A strong wind blew just before sunset and I hoped that it would continue; it would make our task of getting past the Ramaklan flanks much easier. But as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon behind us the wind stopped, and the darkening Wilderness was preserved in a resounding stillness. I took a deep breath.

“Lubak!” Charaban growled with his gruffest voice. I stepped forward from the mass of our troops who were standing in formation in front of the Eastern Gate, and marched up to Charaban who was flanked by Drabar and fat Charaban. It always amazed me how he was able to transform himself and become whatever person the situation–the context–demanded he be. I wondered if Charaban was part regnar.

“We’ll wait for your signal, Lubak, but if there’s any indication that your teams have been exposed, we’ll attack. In that case you must do whatever is necessary to prevent their flanks from collapsing in on us. Understood?”

“Yes, One Charaban!” I replied.

“Position your men and begin,” he ordered.

I nodded to Eight, and he stepped forward with his team, Five and Seven. I could see that Seven was wide‑eyed with tension, but Eight had assured me that he was ready to fight. Five appeared as solid as ever. Eight gave me a last look before he led his team to the north and disappeared in the gathering darkness. I motioned to Three and Four, and they stepped forward from the ranks. Four looked typically bored, but Three surprised me with his apparent calm. He had been a difficult student during the training sessions, and I was anxious about his performance.

“For the Empire!” Charaban growled.

“Victory!” we roared in answer.

As the main troops deployed, I led my team south to a predetermined rock formation. These were the last rocks we would have as cover until we met the enemy. Before us was the exposed desert slope that led to the enemy position. We had been instructed to wait here until the first assault probe was launched. This probe consisted of a small team that would be sent right up the middle of the slope and straight toward the enemy redoubt. The purpose of the probe was to draw enemy fire, during which we would hopefully get an idea of how their defenses were aligned and then begin our own advance during the brief engagement. The probe, of course, was a purely tactical move and had no chance of success. We scanned the now moon‑saturated darkness as we waited for our moment.

“Last equipment check,” I whispered.

“Ready,” Four replied after a moment.

“Three?” Did he hear me?

“What?” he snapped.

“Equipment check!”

“Yes, I’m ready! How many times are you going to ask?” Three hated the fact that I was in charge, and during the training he had grudgingly taken instruction when he realized that mastery of my stealth techniques was absolutely necessary for success. He wasn’t bright, but he was ambitious, and he was hoping for a number One designation at the next evaluation.

Response to the probe should have happened already; it was being launched as we moved out. I could only guess that the enemy–aware of the tactic–was allowing the probe to penetrate as deeply as possible until it nearly reached the redoubt, at which point it could be intercepted without the flanks ever revealing themselves. The probe had been Two Charaban’s idea, and when I’d brought up this lack of enemy response as a possibility he’d dismissed it.

“What’s going on?” Four demanded, with more concern in his voice than I’d ever heard. He was a clever operator, very observant; he gauged the temperature of any given situation and acted accordingly. He wasn’t as accomplished as Charaban in this regard, and you never knew where his true loyalty was, but he always took care of himself.