“Most don’t. But we once did.”

“So you’re saying . . . what? That this level is the concrete manifestation of . . .” he stopped.

“Of who we are, Doctor. Our being. Human being. Cardassian being. But we have become these beings– arebecoming, always in the processof becoming–on these other dimensional levels that are not limited by the measures of time and space. And the great determining factor of our becoming is relationship. Unrelated, I become unrelated. Alienated. Opposed, I become an antagonist. Unified, I become integrated. A functioning member of the whole.” The Doctor was thoughtful; his previous agitation had dissolved.

“You’re a scientist, Doctor. You have a deep understanding of thislevel. I don’t mean just the mechanics. You understand about relationship, the laws that attract and repel, the combinations that nurture and poison. Health and disease. Integrity and breakdown.”

“In your dream,” he said, “I presided over the burial of yourself and the people you were most intimately related to. Why?”

“You said, ‘for the good of the quadrant . . . they must never be allowed to return.’ Why would you say that?” I asked.

“I can only think that. . . .” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Garak. This is not easy for me. I still can’t help thinking this was yourdream. Even if I was invited . . . you were the playwright.”

“Yes, but put yourself in that part. Why would you bury these people and cover up the pit?” The Doctor looked at me in frustration. “Please. Indulge me. It’s vital that I have your answer.”

“If you and the others were carriers of some disease,” he shrugged. “In our fourteenth century on Earth there was a terrible plague, the Black Plague, which wiped out half of Europe’s population. People believed that the dead bodies had to be destroyed, burned . . . buried . . . because it was the only way to prevent the spread of the disease. . . .”

My comm sounded. “Garak.” It was Kira.

“Yes, Commander.”

“Can you be ready to leave at oh‑seven‑hundred hours?”

I sighed. It was less than an hour, but I had no choice.

“Certainly.”

“See you in Airlock 11. Pack lightly.”

“Just my hygiene kit and a change of undergarments,” I said lightly. We clicked off. The Doctor was studying me with an interest in his face I hadn’t seen in years.

“Well? Is it the Black Plague, Doctor? Or just the ramblings of an old spy on the eve of battle?”

“You’re an amazing man, Garak.”

“And my gratitude to you can never be adequately expressed. But I shall try,” I promised.

“Please. What have I done?” he asked genuinely.

“That time you extended yourself so generously and found a way to remove the wire from my brain without killing me . . .”

“I would have done that for anyone,” the Doctor interrupted.

“I’m sure that’s true, but that’s not what I mean. All during the time the device was deteriorating, I was convinced I was going to die.”

“You were even resigned to it,” he reminded me.

“I was also convinced that it was all a dream, and I kept asking myself what you were doing there.”

The Doctor was puzzled. “But what you just told me, that our dreams are just another way we relate . . . ?”

“I had forgotten. That point of my life was perhaps the lowest. I had forgotten many things. When I ‘woke up’ and realized that because of you I was going to live–at that moment, I began to recollect some valuable information.”

“About dreams?” he asked.

“Yes. But specifically about relationships, and how they set the course of our lives. You not only ‘saved’ my life, you also made it possible for me to live it.” The Doctor’s face darkened.

“What is it, Doctor?”

“The time I wounded you in that holosuite program. . . .”

“Yes,” I prompted expectantly.

“I never apologized for my action.”

“And you must neverapologize!” I urged.

“Please, Garak. This is not the time to give me a lesson on how to behave like a hardened spy. . . .”

“No, no, no. On the contrary, when you shot me, my dear friend, that was the next step in my process of remembering. I was going to sacrifice the others, the people you considered your friends, because that was the only way I could be sure to save myself. You opposed me. Indeed, you would have killed me if necessary.”

“I’m sure it would never have gotten to that point,” the Doctor muttered.

“You would have killed me,” I repeated. “For the greater good.” The clichй suddenly had another meaning for both of us. “This is my last trip to Cardassia. I’m not returning. You were in the dream for a very specific reason. Once again, you helped me remember. Thank you, Julian.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled warmly. “And by the way. It wasn’t the dead bodies that carried the disease. It was later determined that it was the rats feeding on the bodies who were the transmitters.”

“Then I guess we’ll go to Cardassia and look for the rats,” I said.

“Be careful, Garak. And look after my hot‑headed friend, will you?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll look after each other,” I answered him. He moved to the door. “Did you really have a dream about Hippocrates?” I asked.

“Yes. Actually I did.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I replied.

Kira was waiting in front of the airlock when I turned the corner.

“Odo’s on his way. How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’ve never been better, Commander,” I replied with fervor. Kira gave me a long look.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enthusiastic, Garak.”

“I’ve finally remembered why I’m here.”

20

Entry:

“Let’s walk, Elim. It’s a lovely day.” Tain was waiting for me in front of the Assembly building.

“As you wish,” I agreed with pleasure and mild surprise. Over the years we rarely met outside his office; only an emergency or drastic change of plan would alter the routine. Now as we walked through the late morning sun and pedestrians at a leisurely pace I experienced a connection to the surrounding bustle and energy in a way that felt almost normal. A father and his son taking a stroll. Tain was heavier, and I could hear his breathing labor with the effort. He’s an old man, I thought. He’s mortal. I’d never thought about Tain in this way, and I became protective as we approached an aggressive knot of pedestrians at the edge of the Coranum Sector. One man was about to run Tain down when I intercepted his path and bumped him to the side. I ignored his challenge as we continued.

“Yes, Elim. I’m getting old.” It wasn’t the first time he picked up my thoughts; this was how our conversations usually went. “It’ll happen to you, too. You’ll wake up one day and realize that you have just enough energy.”

“For what?” I asked. I was alerted.

“To leave your affairs in order,” he replied. “But you have to start thinking about these things long before that day arrives.” Behind the hooded half‑smile was the steely focus that always challenged me to rise to the occasion.

“You’re leaving the Order,” I said.

“I am.”

“Where are you going?” I tried to control the sudden sense of dislocation that had usurped my newly found connection to the community.

“To the Arawak Colony.” Of course. His beloved mountains in Rogarin Province.

“Is Mila going with you?” I asked.

“She is.” I struggled to put all the forming questions into some kind of order. I wasn’t paying attention to our surroundings, and it was only when Tain stopped that I looked around and realized where we were.

“There is the matter of succession, Elim. The Order has managed to steer a course that’s been consonant with Cardassian security. The new leadership must maintain that course.” I didn’t know if it was the uncertainty about my own future or the fact that we were standing in the grounds where Palandine and I had spent so much of our time together, but I felt the inevitability of some kind of final reckoning. This was so typical of his manipulation. Just moments ago I was feeling protective of this benign old man, my father. And now . . . the irony filled my mouth with a bitter taste.