The BLTS Archive- Hembassik Blues
by Invicta (invicta11@yahoo.com)

---

Part of the Garak fuqh-fest.

Warning: This story contains graphic, consensual m/m sex & consensual
violence.

Note: Garak's thoughts are shown inside << >> brackets.

Disclaimer: Star Trek DS9 and the Star Trek characters are owned by
Paramount Pictures. All rights are reserved and no infringement is
meant.

Archiving: Only at the Garak fuhq-fest's Cardassian Choir website -
http://geocities.com/cardassian_choir - until 1st December. After
that, anywhere as long as the full header and disclaimer are included.

This story is Copyright (c) Invicta, October 2000. Feedback is most
welcome.

Many thanks to Shezan, who was my very helpful beta on this story.

---

Night had fallen an hour ago, the terrible heat had abated somewhat,
and the people of Hembassik city spilled out onto the streets to relax
and enjoy themselves. It was officially autumn, although the
temperature was always high and thus seasonal names were irrelevant.
Hembassik was right down at the southernmost part of Cardassia. There
was no hotter place on the planet. Cardassians loved warmth, but even
to them the local weather could be very inhospitable. The city was
surrounded by vast tropical forests which contained high mountains,
deep lakes and raging rivers. There wasn't another populated
settlement in any direction for more than three thousand miles.

Due to their geographical isolation, the people of Hembassik had
inevitably become rather insular. To them, the rest of Cardassia
barely seemed to exist at all. Other parts of the planet possibly
offered a better quality of life, but the inhabitants of this city
usually had their reasons for staying put. Many of them resided there
because they were fond of the extreme heat; some even believed that it
was a sentient and holy force. Several religious groups where heat was
worshipped were centred within the city's walls. The Fire Gods
themselves had founded Hembassik, it was said, as a place for mortals
to adapt to the flames of the heavens over the years, so that they
would not burn up when they arose to be with the Gods at their death
time.

But to most city residents, the fierce warmth was just... there. They
viewed it with tolerance and spoke of it as if it were an old friend.
People shared a definite sense of pride because they lived, day after
day, in conditions which most other Cardassians would not be willing
or able to endure. Tourists, of which there were a fair number, were
often surprised that the city's population never seemed to decrease.
But most Hembassik folk loved their city, and valued its tall stone
buildings, its many public squares and baths, its individuality and
sense of community. The locals knew that other Cardassians thought
them a little strange, and they found this amusing. However, Hembassik
could also act as a very effective trap for anyone who did not possess
enough money to leave.

Three years ago, a man had gone with a group of other heat worshippers
to Katashi tropical forest, just a few miles north west of the city.
While there, he accidentally discovered a pure blue jewel, buried just
below ground. It made him very rich. When news of this find spread
across Cardassia, thousands of people travelled to Katashi forest via
Hembassik. They hoped also to find precious stones there, for it was
claimed that people living in this now famous city had so many jewels
that they used them to pave the streets. But this was entirely false;
of the multitudes who made their way into the forests and jungles to
look for more jewels, very few were successful. Some prospectors even
died from heat exhaustion, lack of food and water or insect bites.
There were charitable organisations who tried to support them but
their resources were limited, the jungles could be hazardous and it
was impossible to protect everyone.

Eventually, the rest of Cardassia learned that there were no more
jewels being found. New people stopped arriving, most existing
prospectors left and things got back to normal in the city. However,
some of those who'd dug up the jungle had not kept hold of enough
money for their shuttle trip back. This left them no choice but to
stay in Hembassik for a time. If they took a job and saved diligently
for a few months, then they usually amassed enough money to buy a
ticket home. Most people knew that it was safer to get passage money
the honest way. Law enforcement in Hembassik was extremely strict and
efficient. Those who tried to steal enough cash to leave were usually
caught and then harshly punished. This was the reason, the only
reason, why Dukat had not committed a single crime since he first
arrived in the city to make his fortune a year ago.

---
Bar Kattaraya, 4th square, Hembassik western quadrant 19.00 hours


Dukat and his friend Miso were sitting at a corner table in the bar's
air-conditioned back room. The two men worked for the same building
company and had been paid that day, so they possessed enough money to
indulge themselves with an expensive night out. Both Cardassians were
dressed in semi-transparent, sleeveless T shirts and very tight
trousers; they had muscular bodies which they loved to show off. Each
man drew his share of flirtatious or lustful glances from the bar's
other customers, both male and female. Dukat and Miso hungrily lapped
up the admiration like a cat laps up milk. True, no-one tried to pick
either of them up, but they knew this might well be out of courtesy.
Their observers would probably assume, incorrectly, that the two men
were a bonded couple.

"Another two beers," Dukat called out to a passing waiter, who nodded
and went off to fetch the drinks.

"You working tomorrow?" Miso asked.

"No. Persuaded the boss to let me swap my down day with Kreltz. You?"

"I got the day off too - my first in two weeks."

"Mmm, we've been really busy finishing off the foundations on those
new apartments. But hey, with a month's pay in our accounts and
tomorrow off work, things are looking pretty good. You up for some
action tonight?" Dukat asked with a knowing smile.

Miso smirked. "What do you think?"

Dukat laughed. "I think a man's got to relax after a hard day's work
on a building site, yes? And there's nowhere better to relax than in
the arms of a whore. That's the one thing I love about this miserable
city; prostitution's legal. No more hiding in dark alleys like I used
to do with the sluts back home."

"Yeah, they're all respectable here," Miso commented with a grin. "How
about we have another two or three drinks, then go along to the 22nd
square?"

Dukat was not surprised that Miso wanted to visit the square where the
most beautiful male prostitutes plied their trade. "It's pay day, so I
guess we could afford it. But that's not what I want tonight."

Miso looked openly curious. "But Dukat, like you said, we just got
paid. Why not have the best for once? You can go to those cheap and
ugly ones in the 38th square any time."

"I know, but..."

The waiter brought their drinks and took payment for them. Once they
were alone once more, Miso leaned close enough to whisper in Dukat's
ear. "If you want to save some money for your ticket home, why not
just hire one between us? A young stud could service us both in half
an hour, and I know just the one we should pick. Remember that tall
man we saw the other week, about twenty years old? The one with the
long hair, that cute little nose and the really rounded ass? I want to
bury myself right inside those big butt-cheeks of his. Come on, Dukat
- let's have ourselves a good time, huh? I'll even let you go
first..."

Dukat smiled triumphantly. "A threesome? Always knew you wanted to get
those sneaky hands of yours inside my pants, Miso."

Miso grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? You're a
genuine love god, Dukat. A sullen, bad-tempered, mouthy love god, but
still..."

Dukat mockingly blew him a kiss. "Sorry, Miso. Some other time maybe,
if I feel like doing you a favour, but you'll have to play there on
your own tonight. I'm headed for the 29th square after I finish up
this drink."

"I didn't know you were into that scene," Miso said with surprise. The
29th square was where male prostitutes could be hired to submit to
violent or painful sexual acts. Dukat had never even mentioned this
type of sexual activity to Miso before, which was strange since the
two men had detailed conversations about sex on a regular basis.

"This is the first time."

"Yeah, right."

"I mean it," Dukat insisted. "I need this, Miso. It's to do with
Anxal."

Miso sighed. "Look, you really should forget about that man. Anxal's
ancient history now. You spend far too much time brooding over him.
You admitted that it wasn't love, so why worry over that relationship
any more?"

"Because he walked out on me and stole everything I had!" Dukat
yelled.

Miso rolled his eyes. "I know he did, Dukat. But the guy was a waste
of space and it turned out that he wasn't to be trusted. You made a
mistake; hey, we've all done it. It's easy to think that a pretty face
equals a pretty nature. Anxal left Hembassik with all of your
possessions and you haven't got the money to go after him. End of
story, Dukat. Let it go."

Dukat shook his head obstinately. "I can't forget. Nobody plays Savrin
Dukat for a fool and gets away with it. I dug up that stinking jungle
for six months, Miso. Six months!" he exclaimed with indignation.
"Anxal and I were supposed to be equal partners, but I did most of the
work. He kept saying that prospecting hurt too much because he had a
bad back, and I believed him. Damn, he lied to me so often. Sure, he
was a great lay, but I was a fool to trust him. I let my dick do the
thinking, Miso - that was my big mistake..."

"Yeah, I'm sure it was," the other man wearily agreed. He liked Dukat
a lot, but in Miso's opinion it was about time that he let go of this
particular grudge.

"Then finally, *I* find a small jewel and we come back here to sell it
and quit this damn place for good, go back to the north where we
belong. It raised twelve hundred credits, more money than I'd seen in
years. And I was totally happy for him to have half of it, because
that was our agreement."

"I think you told me this story already, my friend..."

"But then we go out that same night to celebrate, he slips a drug into
my drink when I'm not looking, I fall asleep and then he steals all
the money, and everything else too. By the time I wake up the next day
- dumped in the street - he's already taken a shuttle out of here. I
end up stranded in this shitheap of a town with nothing to show for
all that hard work. I hate him so much..."

"You don't say," Miso replied with heavy sarcasm. "Dukat, listen to
me. What Anxal did to you was tough, but you got back on your feet in
spite of it. You found a job here--"

"Construction work," Dukat said flatly. "Seven days out of every ten
outdoors on some building site in the full heat of the day. I feel
constantly suffocated when the sun is out. It's not my best career
move, Miso."

"But it's only temporary," Miso soothed him. He was careful not to
pick up on Dukat's admission that the torrid climate caused him
discomfort. Miso had seen other men notice this and tease Dukat about
it, only to get repeatedly punched in return. Miso had been born in
Hembassik and was used to the climate, but Dukat was a native
northerner who couldn't adapt to the humidity of the south. It made
Miso feel proud to know that his friend trusted him enough to mention
this fact at all. He knew that Dukat would never openly admit how
upset he felt about the temperature to anyone else.

"I'm still a long way from being able to afford a seat on the shuttle
to Denavaba City," Dukat complained. This was Anxal's home town, and
the first place that Dukat intended to look for him.

"Not that far. In just a few more months, you'll have saved up enough
to go back. And by then, Anxal will be relaxed and he won't be so
careful to cover his tracks, which will make him a lot easier for you
to find."

Mollified, Dukat smiled at him. "I suppose so." Dukat was a loner who
didn't make friends easily, especially as he had a habit of striking
out verbally or physically against anyone who annoyed him. And he was
easily annoyed. But Miso was different; Dukat really liked him. The
two men regularly went drinking and whoring together, and had a lot of
fun in the process. Their friendship was built on the fact that they
had much in common; both men were gay, middle-aged, single, rootless,
rebellious, self-centred, distrustful of authority and almost always
horny.

Miso finished off his drink. "You know, you could always change your
mind and come along with me tonight."

Dukat threw him a light punch to the shoulder. "Thanks for the offer,
but right now I've got a heart full of anger and I need to let it out.
That's why I have to visit the 29th square."

Miso looked a little concerned. "Don't do anything stupid, will you?
I'd hate to see you end up in court on a murder charge. You know they
have the death penalty here, and they're not exactly shy of using it."

Dukat smiled. "I wouldn't worry about that. I've been told that those
whores are tough - they can take a lot of punishment."

"So can you, my friend, and I never met anyone tougher. Hey, maybe we
just figured out a way for you to earn more money!"

Dukat snorted with laughter. "I've had a lot of jobs in my life but
prostitution has never been an option I've been willing to consider,
Miso."

"So you just prefer to give it away instead?"

"Miso... what are you implying?"

"Nothing," the other man said hastily as he noticed faint signs of
displeasure on Dukat's face. "Just joking, honestly. I think it's time
to go. Want to walk with me for part of the way?"

"Sure."

The two men needed to cross the city in order to get to the 'leisure
quadrant', as it was officially termed. By law, prostitutes could only
work at night and in certain specified areas of Hembassik. And
although they could pick up customers on the streets, all sexual acts
had to be performed indoors. The eastern quadrant of Hembassik was
where most of the traders, companies and civic agencies had their
offices. But in the hours of darkness, when the office workers had
finished their shifts and gone home, that part of the city belonged to
the whores.

As they gradually made their way eastwards, Dukat and Miso chatted
casually while checking out the men they passed and instinctively
leering at the cute ones. After walking for about fifteen minutes,
they reached the entrance to the 22nd square. It was already very busy
and would probably get even busier as the night hours passed.

"Have a good time, Miso. I'll see you at work the day after tomorrow."

"Right. Hey, Dukat?"

"What?"

"Call me tomorrow. Just so I know you're not dead."

Dukat was pleased that Miso felt protective enough of him to suggest
this. "No problem. You're a good friend. For being concerned, I mean."

Miso looked embarrassed and stared up at the sky. "You're a good
friend too. I, erm, I'm glad we can... you know, spend time together.
I never met anyone before who thinks like me."

Dukat carefully gazed down to the floor. "I feel the same, Miso. Never
had a friend before you; never wanted one. But you, you're...
you're... "

There was an uncomfortable pause which lasted for a minute or so. Then
Miso cleared his throat loudly. "Maybe we could go swimming tomorrow
afternoon?"

Dukat nodded. "I'd like that. Say 14.30 at the Trels pool?"

"Fine by me." Miso gave him a broad smile. "Go kick the shit out of
someone, Dukat, before you lose your nerve."

"Yes sir," Dukat replied with a wide grin. "See you tomorrow."

---

In the 29th square, crowds of male prostitutes wearing identical thin
blue robes and black sandals waited to be hired out. A few of them
sported bruises, cuts or weals but most were unmarked. As the night
progressed, it would probably be the other way around. Dukat could see
that these whores were stronger and heavier than the slender, graceful
creatures who were based at the 22nd square. There were many customers
here also, some men arriving alone and others in small groups. Most of
the prostitutes didn't have to wait too long to be picked up.

Dukat studied the merchandise on display with a critical eye. Usually
he bought a man for his beauty alone, but this time it was different.
He wanted someone who was definitely strong enough to take the many
blows which he intended to dish out.

<<Well, what do we have here? Could be a useful customer for me if I
handle him correctly. This one's not too intelligent, I think, but
definitely horny. Nice body, clothes show it off well enough. Don't
like the body language though; he seems unusually tense. He might be
trouble. I should probably back off, but...>>

"Looking for someone?"

Dukat turned around. One of the prostitutes was standing close by, a
respectful look on his face. This man was a possibility, Dukat
decided. His body was sturdy and he looked experienced.

"Yes. I want a whore to beat up and then fuck," he replied
deliberately. Dukat always went right to the point when it came to
talking about sex. He believed that the men he hired preferred it that
way too.

<<Really? And I thought you were planning to study the architecture of
the square's buildings. Well, at least you're not going to be one of
those clients who wants to spend an hour 'getting to know me' first.
From the look of things you're all penis, although probably no
brains.>>

"You came to the right place then," he replied with a slight smile.
"My name is Garak. Might I be the man that you are searching for? I
can cater to any preference and I'm very tough."

<<Tougher than you, although I won't let you figure that out.>>

Dukat's arm flashed outwards as he grabbed Garak's wrist, twisting it
round as far as it would go. Dukat held on, waiting to see if the
other man would cry out or try to pull away. But Garak remained quite
still and silent. No sign of suffering showed on his face and he made
no protest at this treatment. In fact, it didn't disturb him too much;
Garak had been a prostitute for so long that his pain threshold was
very high.

<<You think I'm going to scream over this little thing? Not a chance.
Try breaking that wrist, then maybe I'll show you some pain.>>

Satisfied, Dukat released him after about a minute.

"You'll do. I want you for two hours. What's the cost?"

"That depends on how much I'm to be damaged. Will it be serious?"

"Totally," Dukat assured him menacingly.

<<You know, I thought you were going to say that.>>

Garak didn't even look concerned. "Three hundred and fifty credits,
then. Anything short of death or permanent maiming is acceptable."

Dukat hesitated. The sum Garak had named was almost a whole month's
salary. He'd need to dip into his precious savings to pay for his
living expenses over the next few weeks. It would mean that his ticket
home would take even longer to obtain. Dukat decided that he didn't
care. "Fine. Where do we go?"

"I have a room in a hotel nearby."

<<And the rent on it should have been paid two days ago. So let's make
this quick, shall we?>>

Garak led him out of the square and down a side street. During the
short walk, Dukat started to wonder what would compel anyone to do
this type of work. Sex for money he understood, it paid well enough
after all, but being hired from this particular square could be
dangerous. He wondered if Garak was a fabril addict; many whores were.
Fabril was a dangerous drink. Doctors said that just one glass of it
was enough to cause addiction. Most Cardassians didn't dare to sample
it. Many people wouldn't even consume drinks which were the same
yellow colour as fabril, just in case they were given it by mistake.
But of course, some did choose to drink it, despite all the warnings.
Usually they became dependent on fabril within days, and often turned
to prostitution to afford it. Because fabril had to be imported from
Romulus and could not be replicated, it was a dreadfully expensive
drink

Dukat idly speculated about why it was legal for people to drink
fabril at all - the lawmakers usually banned anything that hot.
Possibly it was because fabril didn't damage the health of those who
consumed it, no matter how much they drank. Still, it was said that
once addicted, they thought of little else but where their next bottle
was coming from.

"You like fabril, Garak?"

<<That's none of your damn business. I'll spread my legs for you and
I'll let you beat me up, but the money you pay doesn't give you the
right to ask me any personal questions.>>

Garak laughed softly. "No, of course I don't. Nobody with any sense
would drink that rubbish. Do I look like a user?"

"I suppose not, but I needed to check. I don't trust fabril addicts;
they're too unpredictable. I like alcohol as much as any man, but I
control my drinking - it doesn't control me."

<<Is that right? I wonder, when was the last full day in which you
didn't consume a single alcoholic drink? Weeks ago? Months? Years? I
bet you couldn't even remember. I hate people like you.>>

"I understand. So, is there any specific way that you would like me to
act during our session?" Garak asked pleasantly.

<<Perhaps I could pretend to be dim-witted so that you'll be
comfortable with me. I wouldn't want to seem astute; you might feel
out of your depth.>>

"What do you mean?"

"Some of my clients like me to role play."

"What for?" Dukat asked, looking puzzled.

<<Don't you even know? Your sex life must be very uninspired. Of
course, acting out a role play might delay the heartwarming moment
when you first slam your fist into my face. Clearly there'll be no
refinement this time; a pity.>>

"Well for example, if they're angry with someone, then they like me to
pretend to be that person," he explained patiently.

"That wouldn't work for me. You look nothing like him."

<<Ever heard of using your imagination?>>

"Him?"

"My useless, cheating ex-lover," Dukat spat out.

"I see. We don't have to use role play, of course. I just find that
many of my clients prefer it, because it gives them a predetermined
reason for punishing me. I could always take the role of your previous
lover's new boyfriend, if that would please you. Then we could pretend
that I conspired with him to hurt you."

Dukat's face cleared and he grinned ferociously. "That sounds...
exciting."

<<Oh - I've excited you. This is good. If I keep it up, maybe you'll
pay me a bonus when we're done. I can always use a little extra.>>

---

"You'll need to give me some more information then," Garak said
lightly as they entered the hotel lobby. He led Dukat to a computer
terminal, so that he could transfer three hundred and fifty credits
into Garak's account. It was standard practice for the 29th square
prostitutes to be paid before sex took place, as they were usually in
no condition to collect their money afterwards.

"My name is Dukat and he's called Anxal," he said, frowning
ferociously as he keyed in his authorisation code. "We were partners,
lovers, friends. At least, I thought so - he had different ideas. He
stole from me and then ran out on me. He betrayed me."

"I wouldn't make that mistake," Garak said wryly. He had noted the
murderous expression which appeared on Dukat's face as he spoke of
Anxal.

<<You might be dim but you're also stubborn. You won't give up until
you find him, I think. Not that I blame dear Anxal for bailing out of
the relationship. I'd probably have done the same myself. It must have
been tiresome, interacting with a big oaf like you every day.>>

"I'll get my revenge on him one day soon," Dukat vowed. "As soon as I
save enough credits to cover the cost of a shuttle trip back to the
north. But right now, he isn't here... and you are."

<<You don't need to spell it out for me - another client who needs a
whipping boy. It's a familiar theme. I'd be worried, except that
you're obviously holding back the worst part of it for poor old Anxal
to receive in person. He'd better scuttle off-planet altogether, if he
values his safety.>>

"The transfer is completed. Come," Garak instructed him softly. They
took the lift up to his floor and then walked down the corridor,
passing a security guard on the way. Garak surreptitiously held up two
fingers at this point, being careful to prevent Dukat from noticing
the gesture. This told the guard that a doctor should be sent to
Garak's room in two hours. The man nodded and made a note on his padd.
He dealt with so many of these requests every night, he'd forget them
if they weren't written down.

Garak then led Dukat into his room. It had no windows and was quite
small. The lighting was subdued and the air-conditioning unit was
broken. Garak barely noticed the stifling heat but Dukat immediately
felt uncomfortable. Every object in the room clearly had a specific
purpose; most were there for Garak's customers to make use of. A
double bed with multiple restraints attached. A big table close by
holding whips, handcuffs, paddles, riding crops, canes, shackles,
chains, metal bars, batons, butt plugs, clamps. More restraints on the
walls, ceiling and floor. In one corner, there was a small table which
held washing equipment; a bowl, two full water jugs, soap and towels.
Another water jug, this one almost empty, was on the floor under the
table. One thing the room didn't seem to contain was any medical kit,
although Dukat didn't notice the lack of it.

"What kind of a place is this?" Dukat asked scornfully. "You don't
even have a replicator or a bathroom. Do you expect me to clean myself
up afterwards with just the water in those jugs?"

<<I'd be very worried if you did. You're complaining over nothing;
this room has everything you need. I can't afford a better work area,
and nor could you if you had my financial commitments.>>

"It is rather primitive, I know," Garak said quietly. "I am sorry for
that. I keep the water in the jugs to wash myself, because the
bathrooms in this hotel are reserved for clients' use only. You'll
find several of them at either end of the corridor, when you need
one."

Dukat nodded absently. His attention was now focused on the many
objects which were piled on top of the large table. He'd never seen
most of these things before, and to his dismay Dukat realised that he
didn't know what many of them were used for.

"I can apply any of these to you?" he queried, trying to act as if he
played with multiple sexual implements every day of the week.

"Of course," Garak replied, his voice polite. "For the next two hours,
I'm yours - your slut, your possession. Treat me any way you like."

Dukat smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

<<Is that a bulge I see in your trousers? Hmm, I thought so. Turned on
by the sight of a few toys, are we? Men are so predictable.>>

For all his anger, Dukat wasn't sure how to start. It seemed a little
strange to attack someone when the man to be attacked had done nothing
to deserve it. But Garak was very experienced in gauging the needs of
his customers, and was fully aware that it would be necessary to
provoke him.

"So you're back, Dukat. Well, if you're looking for Anxal, he's not
here. We heard you might be coming and he cleared out days ago," Garak
said insolently.

There was a slight pause, then Dukat allowed the role play to expand
and include himself. "You're lying. Tell me where Anxal is. It's
payback time for him."

"I don't think so. Did you really imagine that you could possibly get
to him, Dukat? That'll never happen. You're too stupid to track him
down. Even if he was in the next room, you couldn't do it," Garak
mocked. Dukat's eyes narrowed into furious slits and his body tensed,
but he didn't move.

<<What do I have to do, beg you to hit me?>>

"My name is Garak and I'm Anxal's new lover. It's such a relief for
him, finding someone so much better than you to be with. He's always
telling me how stupid you are, how gullible, how moody, how terrible
in bed. Did you know that I've been his lover for years, even when he
was seeing you? We conspired together to steal from you. I knew all
about Anxal's plans, in fact I helped him to carry them out," he
finished triumphantly.

Dukat's patience had reached it's limits. He snatched Garak and
slammed him against the wall. There was an audible thump as his head
made contact with solid stone. "You took him away from me!" Dukat
roared as his hands dug into Garak's neck.

"Yes, I took him away. It was all my fault and there's nothing you can
do about it," Garak said with a mocking smile.

<<That ought to do it...>>

Dukat was now fired up with rage, and the scene they were enacting had
become reality to him. It was no longer strange to blame Garak for his
troubles, in fact it now seemed very natural. He pulled up both of his
hands and repeatedly punched Garak. Watching his own fists slam into
the other man's face, seeing Garak's look of triumph change to one of
fear, was very uplifting.

"No, please don't hit me any more," Garak begged. His mouth was
swollen and a trail of blood ran steadily down from one cut lip.

<<That's it, Dukat; keep going...>>

"You deserve this, you lying piece of shit," Dukat rasped. He could
hardly believe how much this was empowering him. All of the anger and
helplessness which he had carried around since his former lover ran
off was fading away. It was almost as good as it would be if Anxal
himself was in the room.

"I'm not the one who was so incompetent in bed that his lover had to
look for consolation elsewhere," Garak managed to say. As he expected,
this taunt fired up Dukat's temper another few notches. The other man
started slapping him heavily. The force of the slaps eventually
knocked Garak down and he lay prone on the floor, fighting to catch
his breath. Dukat smirked with malicious glee; this was sooooo good.

"Get up and take what's coming to you," he snarled.

<<Shall I? No. Let's make you despise me for my weakness instead. I
think you'll like that.>>

"I can't. I'm not strong, like you. I can't take any more. Please
stop," he whined.

Dukat laughed heartily. "I've hardly begun, you snivelling excuse for
a man." He aimed a hard kick to Garak's back, then another and
another.

"Ouch, no, no..." Garak curled up into a ball, making a vain attempt
to evade the kicks which were now landing on every part of his body
that Dukat could access. He started to sob loudly. "Have mercy, I beg
of you. I didn't mean what I said before, really I didn't. You'll kill
me if you go on this way..."

<<He's really quite good at this - it's almost hurting. I wonder if
I'll be able to reach all of those bruises with a dermal
regenerator?>>

"I hope I do kill you," Dukat said venomously. "You deserve to die.
Then I'll hide out right here until Anxal comes back. I'll watch him
find your body, but he won't have long to mourn over you - he'll be
the next victim. I'll fuck him first, of course... just for one last
time."

Garak looked up at Dukat from eyes which didn't work very well at all
now. "You wouldn't dare kill or fuck either of us," he taunted.
"Anyway, Anxal told me the truth. You can't even get it up, can you,
Dukat?"

Dukat's face darkened and he looked insanely furious. "I'll show you
who can't get it up, you slut." He grabbed Garak by the neck and
dragged him onto the bed. After climbing on top, Dukat started to slap
him again. By now Garak's face was heavily bruised and swollen, and he
had to struggle to take in air. He felt the bulge in Dukat's trousers
press against him, and knew that his client was almost fully erect.

<<This is going well. He's having fun; he might use me again in the
future.>>

"I'm going to fuck you, Garak, to give you a taste of what Anxal used
to beg for so often. He lied to you about me, but you'll see that for
yourself soon enough." Dukat was grinning savagely as he ripped
Garak's robe apart at the seams, intent on getting him naked as soon
as possible.

<<Oh, you're tearing my clothes off. How original. I've never had that
done to me before.>>

When Garak's robe and sandals had been removed, Dukat looked down at
the other man's body with satisfaction. The marks of his assault were
clearly visible. As Dukat roughly turned him over, Garak waited for
the onslaught of penetration, but his client merely wanted to admire
the heavy bruising on Garak's back and buttocks.

"Please, sir... please don't hurt me any more," Garak begged. As he
had expected, Dukat considered his new state of fawning submission to
be both amusing and contemptible.

"I've only just started, slut. Soon you'll really be sorry for what
you've done to me. Thanks to you and that lying, scheming vole-turd
Anxal, I'm trapped in this boiling city and I can't get away. It's so
hot here, I'm hot... and you'll pay for it. Only you."

<<Hmmm. Big, strong, tough man, are you? Not if you can't even cope
with a little warmth. I suppose that explains why the stench of your
sweat is so overpowering. When *did* you last take a shower?>>

Garak allowed himself to artistically shed a few tears of distress.
Dukat merely laughed at him and climbed off the bed. He picked up a
thin leather whip from the table. This was not one of the fiercest
whips that Garak possessed, but it could still cut into flesh and
cause significant blood loss. Garak remained silent and watched him
carefully, assessing his mood once more. He decided that Dukat was
angry enough to carry the rest of the scene through on his own now.

As turned around to return to the bed, Dukat noticed the water jugs
and decided to cool himself down with them. He realised that this
would leave Garak without water to wash himself with later on, and
this pleased him.

"If everything in this room is mine to use, then so is this water,"
Dukat told him spitefully. Garak merely waited quietly on the bed for
his beating to resume.

Dukat poured two of the jugs over himself. The water sloshed down his
fully-clothed body, soaking his clothes and splashing onto the floor.
He enjoyed this sensation, even though the liquid wasn't cold. Then he
noticed the third jug and picked it up. This one Dukat decided to use
for drinking, because his mouth was uncomfortably dry.

"Dukat, please leave me that water at least," Garak pleaded urgently.
"I'll need it to clean up when we're finished here. Please don't use
it, I beg of you. It's not proper drinking water anyway - it's only
suitable for washing."

Dukat was across the room in a second, to give Garak a slap so hard
that he almost fell off the bed. A second and third blow quickly
followed. By now, Garak had a severe headache and was feeling
nauseous. He remained quite still as he was beaten, hoping that the
session would come to an end soon.

<<Damn him, I don't believe he actually went for the jugs. What am I
going to do, now that there's nothing left for my own use? We started
off so well, but this has suddenly turned into a nightmare.>>

"Shut up! Don't dare question my actions in future or I'll give you
worse than that," Dukat promised. He quickly drank from the jug and
threw it aside once it was empty, then he retrieved the whip. Dukat
repeatedly laid into Garak's back, buttocks and chest with it,
relishing the sight of every drop of blood that was brought to the
surface as his blows struck home.

Each stroke of the lash seemed to have a discernible effect on Dukat's
groin. As he applied it vigorously to Garak's prone body, his erection
grew harder and harder. By the time Dukat had given him about a
hundred strokes, Garak was sobbing and clearly distressed. The pain
had reached a level where he could no longer control his own reactions
to it. Not all of his clients could take him this far, but Dukat had
strong arm muscles and had handled the whip with terrific force.

Dukat, on the other hand, was having the best time of his life. He
felt in control, he felt powerful, he felt magnificent. In the end, he
stopped using the whip only because he could no longer ignore his
body's need for sex. This slut was now clearly repentant; it only
remained to fuck him and make sure he knew that Savrin Dukat was
*never* unable to perform sexually.

"Ever had a real man's cock up your ass?" Dukat said, his voice
jarringly loud in Garak's ear.

<<Oh, only about a hundred thousand times. You can still go ahead and
believe that you're the first if you want to.>>

"No, never. Please, sir..."

"Please, what? Please fuck me? No problem." Dukat unzipped his
trousers and sighed with relief as his swollen penis sprang free. It
was slick with natural lubrication, but Dukat wiped off as much of
this as he could against a sheet. No point in giving the little bitch
an easy time of it. Garak himself was not lubed up, since many
customers liked to penetrate him dry.

Dukat had never, ever felt so perfect. None of his previous sexual
experiences, either free or paid for, had given him this transition to
ecstasy. He laughed joyfully as he flipped Garak over onto his
stomach, provoking a groan from the other man when his abused skin was
rubbed against the bedcovers. Then Dukat pulled him up and plunged his
cock into Garak's ass. Dukat had a fairly large penis, and since he
hadn't bothered with lubrication or preparation, this was very painful
for Garak. A scream was forced from his throat for the first time.

"Don't pretend to dislike it. This is what you really wanted, isn't
it?" Dukat hissed into Garak's ear as he quickly thrust in and out.

<<I just think of the money, and I reply...>>

"Yes. Yes, this is what I wanted. Fuck me hard, make it hurt, do
me..."

"I knew you were a dirty whore all the time," Dukat hissed
triumphantly. He pushed in and out of Garak with explosive force.
Garak's face twisted with pain and he was unable to prevent more
tears, this time genuine ones, from falling.

"Hurts... ahhhhhh...."

As he fucked Garak, Dukat gripped the sides of his body so tightly
that his fingers drew blood. The rhythmic force of his thrusts kept
shoving Garak forward, and his head was thumped against the wall each
time. After about fifteen blows, Garak started to lose consciousness.
By the time that Dukat climaxed, he was out cold.

---

When the doctor eventually arrived, he showed no emotion at the sight
of Garak's battered, naked and unconscious body. Nor was he surprised
to see that the customer who had caused these injuries had already
left. When he had first started to practice medicine in the eastern
quadrant, seeing the damage done to some of the prostitutes could make
him cry. Nowadays, the doctor was able to maintain a solid emotional
distance from it. He'd also learned how to cure severe wounds on the
spot whenever possible, in order to avoid the need for hospital
treatment. Most prostitutes wouldn't go to a hospital for anything
less than a life-threatening injury. They knew that the diligent staff
there would probably insist on keeping them in for observation
overnight, if not longer. As this would prevent them from earning more
money until at least the next evening, hospitalisation was viewed by
the prostitutes as something to be avoided at all costs.

The doctor spent an hour with Garak, concentrating on the major
injuries to his body. He healed the wounds made by the whip but did
not bother to work on the bruises or smaller cuts, knowing that Garak
might decide to keep them in order to attract more customers. The
doctor hoped that he would not be requested to come back and carry out
the same process later in the evening. On this square, it was quite
usual for prostitutes to need medical treatment several times a night.

"Thank you for coming here, Doctor Vessai," Garak said as he returned
to consciousness.

The physician stopped studying the readings on his tricorder and
looked up. "Awake, are you? How do you feel?"

"Just fine," Garak said with a polite smile. The other man simply
nodded; Garak gave the same reply every time he was asked this
question.

"I suppose it would be useless for me to ask you to take some time
off, so that you can fully recover from these injuries?"

"You know the answer to that." Garak made an effort to sit up, but Dr.
Vessai pushed him back down again.

"Not just yet; I haven't finished the treatment.

"I need..."

"Don't get up yet," Vessai insisted. Then he reached into his medical
case and picked up a bottle of fabril. Garak stared at the yellow
fluid, his face instantly alight with greedy anticipation. "Just one
or two sips," the doctor instructed him as he lifted his patient's
head up. Garak consumed the drink eagerly, then lay back on the bed.
Waves of warmth and contentment shimmered through him as the fabril
took effect.

<<So good, so very good... Doctor, you are a treasure for bringing
this to me. There is nothing in this universe as rewarding as pure
fabril. This will keep me going until I can get another bottle.>>

Vessai was watching him with understanding and resignation. He saw the
expression on Garak's face change from discomfort to joy within
seconds and sighed. "Garak, I don't approve of alcohol, especially a
substance as deadly addictive as fabril. I carry it for medicinal
purposes only. I gave it to you just then only because I can see that
you don't have any left, and you're not well enough to go out and get
more."

"You're a good man," Garak told him.

<<If I keep flattering him, maybe he'll bring some more fabril with
him next time he visits.>>

"And you're a fool. How long have I known you for?"

"I'm not quite sure," Garak admitted. He kept no track of time and
each day was almost identical to him, so the years passed by without
him really being aware of it.

"Well, I am - it's nearly four years. And you once told me that you've
been drinking fabril and selling yourself since you were a young man.
What age are you now - fifty or so? That's half your life wasted, and
the best half too. I could get you into a rehabilitation programme
tomorrow, if only you'd let me."

"Wouldn't do any good," Garak said playfully. The fabril had taken him
to his usual exalted place. As always, he found it unbelievable that
anyone would strive to take that away from him.

"Yes it would. You're worth saving, Garak."

<<If I have to listen to much more of this sanctimonious and misguided
lecture, I'll vomit all over your expensive suit, Doctor.>>

"I don't need saving."

"Garak...  please reconsider. Fabril is killing you."

"You know that's not true," Garak said dismissively.

"It is in every way that matters," Dr. Vessai insisted. "You're an
intelligent, able man. You could have accomplished anything you set
your mind to in life. But here you are, living a mindless, aimless
existence without a single redeeming quality to it. You let yourself
be used as a combined punchbag and fuck toy night after night, just so
that you can get enough money for alcohol. Isn't that totally stupid,
Garak? Don't you think so?"

Garak giggled. "You sound so very disapproving. You should try fabril
yourself, then you'd feel differently."

"Heaven forbid," the doctor shuddered. "This poison really should be
banned, then there'd be no more addicts."

<<Doctors - you're all the same. So naïve.>>

Garak gave him a faint smile. "There'll always be a market for fabril,
whether it's legal or not. Even if you could 'save' me, as you put it,
there are always others. I saw a man drink it for the first time
today. Another new addict, probably one of many. I expect you'll meet
him, in time."

"There's room for that man in the rehabilitation programme too,"
Vessai hinted.

<<Is that supposed to be a point in its favour? I didn't exactly like
him.>>

Garak laughed tiredly. "Speaking for myself, I'd rather stay as I am.
Why do we have this same talk every time you patch me up?"

"Because I have to try."

"I admire you for that," Garak said lightly.

<<Like hell I do. Just finish the damn treatment and leave, Doctor.
I've stood enough of your preaching for one night; you've outstayed
your welcome.>>

"But you never listen. When was the last time you spoke to your
family, Garak?"

<<Vessai, I don't even know if I have a family any more, nor do I
care. Why are you making me endure this inane conversation?>>

"I can't recall exactly. Some time ago - I've been busy," he replied
evasively.

"How about the last time you took a holiday, had a meal at a nice
restaurant, redecorated your home, spent time with friends?"

<<Oh, what the hell does it matter? Those things are irrelevant when
you have something a million times better.>>

"Are we done yet?" Garak asked in an irritated tone of voice.

Vessai managed to hide his own anger. "Yes, I'm finished here. Put in
your code."

Garak entered his personal account details into Vessai's handheld
computer and authorised a fifty credit payment for his medical
treatment.

"Thank you, Doctor."

"No need to thank me; it's my job. Now you can go out and hire someone
else to beat you up and undo my good work. But next time, I hope I
won't be the medic who comes to treat your wounds. In fact, I don't
want to see you again for a long, long time."

Garak heard the bitterness in Vessai's tone and was puzzled by it. He
was used to being lectured about his use of fabril; most of the
eastern quadrant's doctors did so. But usually the discussions were
good-natured, and over with quickly enough.

"Have I done something to offend you?" Garak asked, failing to hide
the fact that he didn't really care either way.

"Not you personally," Vessai admitted. "Last night I was called out to
treat another male prostitute, in terrible circumstances. The whole
incident really made me think twice about fabril and the damage it
does to people's lives."

<<Oh, here we go again. Doesn't he realise that I should be back at
work by now?>>

"Was he from around here?" Garak asked. He knew all of the 29th square
men, although none of them were close to him; there was no room in
Garak's life for other people.

"No - the 26th square. He was one of six." Garak nodded to show that
he understood. He'd worked in that square for a while himself some
years ago. It was the place where groups of prostitutes who
specialised in exhibitionism could be hired out. They were often in
demand for events such as parties, weddings or business functions.

"His name was Fredras," Dr. Vessai said. "He was very young, not even
twenty. He drank fabril too. I treated him a few times and tried to
persuade him to stop, as I do with you, but he wouldn't listen either.
And now he's dead. He broke into a law enforcer's apartment, desperate
to find enough money to buy another bottle or two. And they say fabril
doesn't damage your brain! Who but an addict would be stupid enough to
try and steal from an enforcer? He was discovered, he struck out and
he was shot. I arrived at the apartment just before Fredras died. I
couldn't save him. A man's life ended, an enforcer injured, his family
traumatised - all because of some dirty, stinking alien alcohol. Why
do you think the Romulans export it all to us, Garak? Because it's so
dangerous, they don't want it themselves..."

<<More likely because it doesn't have the same effect on them that it
does on us. Otherwise, how could they bear to send such perfection
away?>>

Garak sighed impatiently. "I'm sorry about this man, but everyone
knows that you can't earn enough at the 26th to keep yourself in
fabril. He should have come to work here instead. I would have been
happy to teach him how to please our type of customer so that he could
boost his earnings, in return for a small fee. Perhaps if this seems
likely to happen again to someone else, you could suggest this to
them?"

Vassai repressed the urge to scream and shout. He could see that Garak
thought he was being helpful. "Thank you, Garak. I'll keep your
suggestion in mind. I want you to rest now, you understand? You could
jeopardise your health if you don't."

Garak shook his head. "I can't do that right now, but I promise that
I'll rest soon."

Vessai decided that it was useless to argue with him any more. "Until
next time, then."

"Until next time," Garak agreed blithely. He watched as Vassai went
out of the door, then sighed with relief.

It was a little while before Garak could find the strength to stand
up. He could tell that Dr. Vessai had done a good job, however. There
was still pain, but now it had subsided to what Garak mentally
classified as 'under the surface pain', meaning that he could function
in spite of it. His body was covered with dried blood and semen which
would all need to be cleaned off. Still naked, Garak opened the door
and limped slowly along to a bathroom, which he was in fact allowed to
use. The security guard saw him pass but took no notice; it was a
common enough sight.

Garak had a quick shower and returned to his room. Despite Vessai's
warning, he knew that he was well enough to go outside, and fully
intended to do so. It took him about ten minutes to clean up the mess
in the room and put on another robe, taken from a small stock of
clothes which he kept in a suitcase under the bed. Before leaving, he
picked up one of the water jugs and drank the remaining few drops.

Downstairs in the lobby, Garak went to the hotel's office and paid the
rent on his room. He then made his way back to the 29th square, for
there would still be time to pick up another few customers before
night ended. At dawn, Garak intended to buy himself a large bottle of
fabril and settle down to spend the next seven or eight hours in a
drunken haze. He had worked hard all night; he'd earned a little
treat.

---
Trazerab Road, Hembassik north quadrant 17.00 hours, the next day


Garak swiftly walked along the street, checking the building names as
he passed each one. He was wearing black trousers and boots with a
grey shirt. His clothes were faded, stained and creased. The shirt
also had a rip in one of the sleeves. However, Garak owned no other
clothes except his robes, and a robe could not be worn during the day
in case a law enforcer accused him of illegally soliciting for custom.
He was both hungry and tired, so Garak intended to finish his business
quickly and hurry back home for a meal and a short nap. He would have
to be at work again in three hours, so there wasn't much time to
waste.

Garak was unsure of his own motivation for what he was about to do.
Spite or sympathy, he really couldn't tell. Either way, he'd find a
form of satisfaction in it. When he located the right building, Garak
walked into the main corridor. The ground floor contained shops but
there was living accommodation on the other seventeen floors above.
Garak took the lift to the fifth floor and made his way to apartment
G568. He then pressed the doorbell and waited. There was no immediate
response, which did not surprise Garak at all. He touched the bell
once more.

---

Dukat felt dreadful and he could not understand why. Ever since he'd
woken up at noon, he had suffered from dizziness, stomach pains,
severe headaches, fever and the most terrible thirst. As he rarely got
sick, Dukat decided that his illness was caused by food poisoning. He
remembered buying some soup from a street seller right after leaving
work the previous day; it must have been undercooked.

Earlier on, Miso had come over to the apartment for a while at Dukat's
request, bringing some medicines with him. These hadn't helped, in
fact Dukat was feeling worse by the hour. He decided that he would
have to get over to the hospital soon for treatment. And once he was
healthy again, Dukat intended to find the soup seller and beat him to
a pulp for this offence.

When the doorbell sounded, Dukat did not feel well enough to get up
from the sofa and take off the security lock. However, the chime
continued to ring out. It was a loud noise and he was unable to ignore
it. Cursing, Dukat managed to raise his body upright. His balance was
so unsteady that he staggered in the direction of the door and slumped
against the wall. Dukat deactivated the lock, expecting to find that
Miso had returned. He was astounded to see that Garak was waiting
outside instead.

"What is this? If you want more money, forget it; I paid you plenty
last night."

<<You think? I almost made a net loss on our session, Dukat. I'm glad
I don't have customers as stupid and stubborn as you every day. But I
can't complain - you'll pay me back eventually. I will make sure of
that.>>

"I haven't come here to ask for money. I need to speak to you about
something else. It's urgent and very, very important," Garak stressed.

Dukat didn't care. "I'm not feeling good. Come back some other time."
He moved to close the door, but Garak anticipated this and quickly
stepped inside. "I told you to leave," Dukat snarled menacingly. "If
you don't get out, I'll make you regret it."

Garak grinned; it amused him to be threatened by a man who was having
to work hard to prevent himself from falling down. "I know what's
wrong with you, Dukat. I know why you're ill."

"What do you mean?"

"You're at the first stage of fabril withdrawal," Garak told him
bluntly.

Dukat paid no attention to him. He made his way to the sofa and
flopped down onto it, unable to stay on his feet any longer. "Go and
call me a doctor," he commanded. "I think I ate some bad soup."

Garak stared at him. "Dukat, didn't you hear what I just said? What
you're going through is a direct result of you not drinking any fabril
for more than a few hours. You're a user, Dukat, even though you don't
yet realise it. You are a fabril addict."

Dukat laughed scornfully. "You're just trying to scare me. Well, it's
not working. I never drink that yellow trash - never. Now you either
get out of my apartment or when I'm feeling better, I'll hunt you down
and kill you."

"Dukat - the fabril was in the water jug. The one underneath the
table. The one you drank from. Remember it?"

Dukat's eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open. "It was... the taste
was bitter. I assumed it was mineral water."

"No; not water at all. Pure fabril. You drank my last stock of it.
Just as well the jug was less than a quarter full..."

Dukat shook his head, desperately wanting to reject what he was being
told. "You're lying, I know you are. This is some kind of trap.
Anyway, the liquid in the jugs was clear and fabril is yellow, so what
you're claiming is impossible."

Garak smiled faintly. "Two of the jugs were full of water, but the
third was not. I added a harmless dye to that one; this gave my fabril
the appearance of water by removing its colour. It seemed like a good
idea at the time... You have to understand that almost all of the 29th
square whores are users. If anyone runs out of fabril and can't get
the money to buy more, then they steal other people's. I had three
bottles of fabril taken from my room in as many weeks before I came up
with this idea. I couldn't know that you'd choose to drink what was
supposed to be washing water. None of my other clients have touched
those jugs. I tried to stop you, but you wouldn't listen..."

Dukat stared at him uneasily. He felt completely sickened, for by now
he had realised that Garak was speaking the truth. "But you told me
that you weren't a user. You told me--"

"I wanted your business; I lied."

"All right, so I drank it. Once. Just the once. I'll go through some
bad symptoms and then I'll be fine. The fabril will work it's way out
of my body in a day or two," Dukat said with defiance.

Garak smiled. "No it won't. Once is enough, once is all it needs.
You're now a user, just like me. The symptoms of fabril deprivation
don't stop, Dukat. They just get worse and worse until you can't see
anything but the need. There are rehabilitation programmes of course,
but I never heard of anyone who was cured by them, despite what the
doctors claim. And frankly, there isn't any need to *be*
rehabilitated. I know what you really need, Dukat. I know what will
make you well again." Garak reached into his shirt pocket and pulled
out a small bottle of fabril. As Dukat lay there, watching him with
horror, Garak removed the bottle top and drank half of the contents.
Then he held the bottle out to Dukat.

"Consider this a gift. An apology, if you like, for accidentally
making you addicted."

"I'm not addicted!" Dukat snarled, his face twisted with rage. He
wanted to reach out and smash the bottle away, but he was too weak to
do anything but stay where he was.

Garak knelt at his side and held the bottle up so that Dukat could
clearly see it. "I'd reconsider, if I were you. Two or three minutes,
that's all it takes to get back to normal again after you drink some.
Better than normal - it puts you on a high afterwards that nothing
else in the universe can equal. Drink it. I promise you, you'll never
regret it."

"You must be insane," Dukat hissed. "The fabril must have rotted away
your mind."

Garak smiled tolerantly. "You say that because you're still thinking
like a non-user. I feel so sorry for people who don't use it. There
are so many misconceptions about fabril; everyone who has never
experienced its benefits views it negatively. But after you start
using properly, everything is different. It is so wondrous, Dukat. One
or two glasses of fabril will take you to another world. Imagine being
in a cold and empty street, then suddenly you see a secret doorway.
You open it, step inside, and there's paradise all laid out and
waiting for you. I'm not doing it justice, I know. Mere words can't
make you see what fabril gives. And the full effect of it cannot be
felt until it has been within your body for about fifteen hours, so
you only had a glimpse of its potential last night. Drink some more
fabril and you will see the truth for yourself. Then you'll wonder how
you ever managed to survive without it."

Dukat was almost shaking with fear. "Never! I don't need this. I won't
turn into someone like you, letting my life drain away into nothing, a
mental vacuum, ruled by a bottle. I'm stronger than that, I'm much
stronger. I'll fight this and I'll win. Now get out of my apartment,
whore. You've had a wasted journey."

His face expressionless, Garak stood up and put the fabril bottle onto
a nearby table. "I'll leave it here, in case you change your mind. I
expect I'll see you soon, Dukat."

"We won't meet again," Dukat said hoarsely. "Unless I hire you to
finish what I started last night, that is."

"Now that's very unlikely to happen," Garak told him briskly. He went
to the window and stared dreamily down at the busy street below. "You
see, fabril doesn't walk away from you that easily. After the first
drink, you feel only the thirst for more. Soon that desire overpowers
you. You start consuming fabril more and more frequently. Within a
week or so, you've spent all your wages on it, but it's not yet time
to be paid again. So you sell anything you have which is worth
something. Maybe you borrow or steal from friends or family too. You
get credit, take out loans. But it's not enough to buy all the fabril
that you want. So you take a second job, and it's still not enough.
Probably you lose one or both jobs soon anyway, because you can't
concentrate on them properly. Eventually, when there isn't any other
option, you exploit the only source of income you have left -
yourself." Garak turned back to Dukat, who looked completely
terrified, and gave him a cheerful smile. "I'll see myself out, shall
I?"

He left the room without waiting for an answer, leaving Dukat and the
bottle alone together.

---
Epilogue - 22 years later

Maximum security unit, Hembassik city prison 19.00 hours


Two old men had occupied the seventh cell in the unit for the last
five days. It was a large corner cell, warm and well lit. The
furniture was basic but the room was clean and the beds comfortable.
They were brought plenty of nutritious, tasty food and given frequent
opportunities to leave the cell for bathing or exercising. But for
Garak and Dukat, both going through severe withdrawal symptoms after
being denied all access to fabril since their arrest, Hembassik prison
was the heart of hell itself.

Garak hazily thought that they must be about due for another injection
of DxD, the drug that was supposed to totally repress the devastating
symptoms of fabril withdrawal. Like many users he had nothing but
contempt for DxD, a drug which usually caused severe side-effects.
Certainly it didn't make him feel any better, but DxD did seem to ease
Dukat's suffering for an hour or so. He glanced up at the vidmonitor
impatiently and pointed to his friend, who was flat out on one of the
beds, heavily shivering and uttering pitiful whimpers of discomfort.
Garak hoped that they would take the hint and bring some DxD in, but
nobody came.

<<How can they leave us suffering this way? I don't care if the
recommended amount of time between injections hasn't yet passed, we
should be given more DxD immediately. Why make us wait, in the
circumstances? Sadistic brutes.>>

After a few minutes, Garak got up and went over to Dukat. He lay down
next to him, in the hope that his own body heat - slight though it was
- would help Dukat to get warm. Ironic that this man, who had
complained about the southern heat to Garak on a regular basis for
years, felt so very cold now.

"I let you down," Dukat whispered, his teeth chattering.

"Don't be stupid." From Garak's point of view, they were equally
responsible for what had happened.

"I am to blame."

"Why? Robbing the Pattafra Bank was my idea. We used my plan to do it
and we were well and truly caught. I wasn't as smart as I thought, my
dear friend."

<<Perhaps I'm getting senile. I must have lost my touch. It hurts to
say it, but it's true. We were too old to rob a bank, I suppose. What
was I thinking?>>

Dukat shook his head. "No, yours was a good plan. I was the one who
ruined it by killing that security guard. You told me to run, not to
fight him, and I took no notice."

"His death was an accident, one which wouldn't have happened if you
had not started to panic," Garak reproved him, but very gently.

"You're right," Dukat snivelled. "And because of my actions, we both
received the death penalty. If it had just been attempted robbery,
then we would only have served about ten years in prison. As it is..."

"We die tomorrow morning at dawn by lethal injection."

"My fault," Dukat said solemnly.

Garak laughed. "Our fault. Hush now, Dukat. Don't blame yourself. It
was a gamble and we both knew it. I'd rather go quickly, wouldn't you?
Better this way than spending years without fabril."

Dukat shuddered at the thought of that. "Isn't there any chance that
they'll bring us some tonight?"

"You know that I have asked them, many times. They insist that it's
impossible. They are deaf to our pleas, Dukat. They just don't care."

"They still deny us, even on our last night?" Dukat queried
incredulously.

"Oh, yes. They won't break the law to help the likes of us. Now that
fabril is illegal, the guards could be prosecuted if they procured
any."

<<Yes, they keep it from us, even though everyone knows that some of
the city's enforcers are secretly shipping fabril in by the caseload
for a friend or family member - and sometimes even for themselves.
Hypocrites. I despise them all.>>

"I'd get fabril for someone else... if they really needed it."

<<Dukat, who are you trying to fool? You've never been known for your
charitable impulses; you'd drink it all and happily watch them suffer.
And I'd do exactly the same myself, of course.>>

Garak chuckled. "But you know how horrendous it is to be deprived of
fabril; these people don't."

The cell door opened and two armed guards entered, escorting a prison
physician. "How are you both feeling?" the doctor asked. His cheerful
manner was obviously feigned. Garak could see that the man felt
uncomfortable to be in their presence. It was, he supposed, difficult
to know how to interact with people who would be dead in half a day.
Garak had been treated by hundreds of doctors in his lifetime, and he
usually made some effort to maintain good relations with them.
However, he was definitely not inclined to be nice to this one.

"My friend Dukat is very ill, as am I. If we could be given some
fabril, our last hours would be bearable. As it is, we suffer torments
that you can barely imagine."

"You only have yourself to blame for that," the doctor said
defensively. "Everyone knows how addictive fabril is. If you hadn't
drunk it in the first place--"

<<What a narrow-minded fool. If only those guards weren't so close,
I'd take great pleasure in showing him what I think of his self-
righteous attitude. I may be over seventy but I could still strangle
him to death within minutes.>>

Garak glared at him. "Apply that faulty logic to myself if you wish,
but Dukat became a user against his will when he drank fabril by
mistake. Give him some of it, at least. It would be a merciful act."

The doctor looked annoyed now. "Even if I were willing to commit a
crime, which I am not, let me point out to you that fabril is
extremely expensive."

"I am well aware of that," Garak replied tartly. "Ever since it was
declared illegal two months ago, fabril has to be smuggled in from
Romulus and bought on the black market. The price of it has tripled
already and it keeps on going higher. Why do you think we turned to
bank robbery in the first place? Even working every hour of every
night, we couldn't earn enough from prostitution to cover our alcohol
bills any more."

The doctor looked at him scornfully. "Ah yes, I forgot that you two
are street whores. I can't imagine why anyone would want to hire you.
You're old..."

Garak laughed derisively. "Yes, we are old. Our hair is grey, Dukat
suffers from high blood pressure and I have difficulty in walking far.
To you, that means that we could never be the object of anyone's
desire. But many older men like to use prostitutes of their own age;
it makes them feel more comfortable. There's always business to be
had, even for people as ancient as us."

<<And not just from the old men. Would it shock you to hear that,
Doctor? I was fucked by a thirty year old two weeks ago who said that
I was the best whore he'd ever had. He meant it, too. I have, in fact,
always made a good profit from those youths who do not mistakenly
discount the value of maturity and experience.>>

"But not enough, it seems. Why else would you have turned to crime?"
the physician sneered.

"We tried to manage on our legal earnings," Garak said quietly. "When
fabril was first banned, we cut down on meals to pay for it - maybe
you haven't bothered to notice how thin we both are? Then we gave up
our hotel rooms and slept in the street. But the price of fabril
regularly increased and we just never had enough money to buy all that
we needed..."

"That's your problem, not mine," the doctor replied rudely.

"No, it is Hembassik's problem," Garak said angrily. "By making fabril
illegal, this city has created a monster. People like us are getting
desperate. We won't be the only ones who try and steal money to--"

"I'm not interested, whore. Now shut up and remain still while I
complete your injections." He quickly gave both men a shot of DxD and
left the room without a backward glance, the guards following. Garak
watched wearily as the door was closed and locked behind them.

"In the old days, I would have beaten him senseless for daring to talk
to us like that," Dukat said faintly.

"Of course you would have," Garak agreed. "You were very strong back
then. You didn't tolerate any disrespect in others."

<<Yes, your bodily strength always served you well, Dukat. As a sex
toy, once you finally accepted that prostitution was your inevitable
destiny, you were superb. Even I couldn't always endure as well. I
respected you for it, and from that respect grew the ability to accept
you as a friend. After you stole from Miso and he ended his friendship
with you, I think that you valued our association even more than I
did. Strange that such strong bodies as we had then should be broken
down to nothing now...>>

"It's true; I was stronger than them all. But Garak, I never went back
for Anxal. He stole from me, deceived me - I should have taken my
revenge on him..."

<<There is one good thing about dying - I'll never have to hear this
tiresome Anxal story ever again.>>

"There wasn't any time for revenge. You'd have lost at least a week of
earnings," Garak said dryly.

"Yes, I couldn't afford that. And Anxal really didn't matter so much -
afterwards."

"Who does?"

Dukat's shivers had slowed down and he was getting sleepy. "We used to
be so strong. And I was so beautiful..."

"You still are. Rest now," Garak told him firmly. Better that Dukat
sleep away his final hours than spend them awake, pining for what he
could no longer have.

"I will. Garak... is there fabril in the afterlife, do you think?"
Dukat whispered, his voice hopeful.

Garak's amused laughter echoed around the cell. "If there is, I
promise you we won't rest until we find it."

---

The End