“No–that sounds fine.” I was taken back by the suggestion, since we had never dined in his office before. I followed as he led the way to the cluttered space he usually reserved for private consultations. When I saw that the table was set for three, my system went on full alert.

“Are we expecting someone else, Doctor?” I asked.

“Well, uh, yes . . . or rather, Odo was going to try to make it, but he may be held up.” The doctor was almost too casual as he busied himself serving the prepared dishes. “He said we should start without him.” He uncovered my food: tojalin yamoksauce, one of my favorite Cardassian dishes. Now I was certain something was up.

“Where did you find this, Doctor?” I didn’t have the heart to tell him tojalis a breakfast dish.

“Oddly enough, the chef at the Klingon restaurant fancies himself an intergalactic gourmet. However, I’m afraid the concept of chips still eludes him,” the doctor said as he held up a long, greasy strip of what he called fried potato.

“What’s the occasion, Doctor? You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. You’re a busy man.”

“I just thought it’d be pleasant if we had some privacy today,” he said, avoiding a direct look.

“Oh. For any particular reason?” I asked as I began to eat.

“Well, I . . . uh . . . actually was planning to talk about this after lunch.” I could see that the doctor was out of his element. Perhaps he was disconcerted that we had to conduct this lunch without a third party.

“Talk about what, Doctor?” I put down my utensils and gave him my full attention.

“Well, I was hoping that Odo would join us.” The Doctor looked toward the door with a look that corroborated my suspicion. He suddenly nodded.

“Yes, quite right. We should do this before; we’ll digest better.” He suddenly jumped up. “I have some rokassajuice . . . tea?”

“What is it?” My insistence pulled him back down.

“You know how important those codes are to us. I don’t have to tell you what that information means.”

“No one knows better than I,” I said.

“Of course not. And I respect that for whatever reason you’re . . . unable to continue to break them down for us.”

“Yes?” I prompted.

“You see, this is so difficult, Garak. I know what a private person you are, and how you detest people meddling in your affairs. . . .”

“Ironic for a spy, isn’t it?”

“No, everyone has a right to their privacy, but . . . circumstances being what they are. . . .”

“Captain Sisko would like it very much if I could somehow continue.”

“Yes.” With help, the doctor had finally gotten it out.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure. But tell me, Doctor, how am I to do this?” I asked. “The moment I seethose scrambled characters, my throat tightens, and then when I start working on them. . . .” I shrugged. How could I explain the unexplainable?

“But you see, perhaps it’s something that I can help you address.”

“Your holosuite program. The one that allows me to visit the traumas of my childhood.”

“I hesitate to suggest this, remembering how you reacted the last time . . . but, yes, I feel it could make a difference,” the Doctor gamely admitted.

“Oh, Doctor,” I sighed. “We’re so different. Perhaps someday I’ll be able to express to you just how different we are.” I pushed my food away, and took a deep breath to calm the rising anxiety. “All of my so‑called childhood traumas are right here in this room with me, at this moment.”

“Yes, of course they are,” the Doctor readily agreed.

“But they’re not hidden. They’ve happened, they’ve had their effect, and all of it is incorporated into who I am.”

“I know this,” the Doctor assured me.

“No, you don’t. Because you’re operating from a psychological model that is human. Would you use a human model as your guide if you needed to perform a delicate surgical procedure on me?”

“Of course I wouldn’t.”

“And you’ve proven that. Not knowing Cardassian biochemistry, you went to the Arawath Colony to get the appropriate data from Tain himself in order to remove the wire from my brain. Why should this be any different?” The question hung in the air. The Doctor had no answer, and I could see by his expression that he was genuinely embarrassed by the situation.

“Please, Doctor, I understand why you’re asking this. But the stress, the anxiety, the fear a Cardassian experiences is about what hasn’thappened. We’ve already processed the past; it’s what’s in front of us that’s worrisome.”

“And you don’t think that what’s in front of us has any connection to what’s past?” he asked.

“Of course it does, but not in the causal manner you’re suggesting. One model does not fit all, however admirable that model may be.” I smiled and gestured to the Doctor; but he wasn’t in the mood for a compliment.

“I’m not trained in this field, Garak, and I’m not going to send us off on a fool’s errand–but I ask you as a friend to help us. However you can. This information could save countless lives.”

“Help you by helping myself, you mean.”

“However you can.”

“You have my word, Doctor. I will do whatever I possibly can.”

“I’ve never doubted that, Garak.”

I nodded, looking at the third setting. “Tell me, Doctor, why did you invite Odo today?”

“I thought since you were working together on this project. . . .” His voice trailed off. We just looked at each other. “I think I was afraid to do this by myself,” he finally admitted.

“I appreciate your honesty, Doctor. Please assure the captain that I will pick up more codes from Odo today.”

“Thank you, Garak.” The doctor seemed enormously relieved. He gestured to our food. “I’m afraid it’s all gone cold. Why don’t we just go to the Replimat after all?”

“Excellent suggestion,” I eagerly agreed. The room was rapidly becoming much too confining. As we walked back out onto the Promenade, I wondered what it was about my future that was suffocating me. And how could I overcome it? Even as I thought this, I had to force myself to breathe.

8

Entry:

As I walked to the Diplomatic Service building, which was not far from the Hall of Records, I went over my cover information. I was to identify myself as Alardig Ra’orn, the youngest son of Krai, the newly appointed consul to the Cardassian Embassy on Tohvun III where the off‑and‑on Federation‑Cardassian peace talks were on again. I had to be extremely careful (I was warned) with the military personnel who guarded the diplomatic compound. The military had their own security/intelligence apparatus, which did its best to discredit the Obsidian Order whenever possible. The military distrusted the Order and its seemingly autonomous position in the power structure. The fact that the Detapa Council chose the Order rather than the military for its Tohvun undercover operations only exacerbated the rivalry. There were instances of joint operations between the two, but they were rare and only happened when the Council twisted arms.

“All right, pass through,” the glinn grudgingly allowed when my security code cleared. I smiled my thanks (this was completely ignored), and as I made my way to the appointed conference room I understood why the so‑called rivalry was one‑sided. The military mind doesn’t lend itself to subtle and creative obfuscation.

The first person I saw when I entered the room was Maladek. He returned my look with a bored expression, and turned back to his comm chip. He was punctual for this meeting. Limor explained that Maladek was my older brother “Begom,” and another member of our cell, Oonal, was “Krai,” my father. As I studied the three of us, we did indeed look like a family.

The purpose of the peace talks was to determine a settlement of the often violent Cardassian‑Federation border dispute that centered around several planets, Dorvan V being the most important. During these talks a truce had been declared. The assignment, as far as I was involved, was disappointing. Oonal was the experienced operative, and he was charged with the sole responsibility of working with his contacts on the Federation negotiating side. As probes, Maladek and I were there to give credibility to Oonal’s cover, and beyond that simply to observe and learn.