The BLTS Archive - Cardassian Hostage
by Mary K. (mkk2@csd.uwm.edu)

---

DISCLAIMER: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and the characters
created within are property of Paramount.  However, the story and
those parts not used by Paramount are COPYRIGHT 1997 by Christine
C. and Mary K.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: We would like to apologize in advance for the following
work of fiction.  It contains Ferengi, physical violence, graphic
depictions of oo-mox, Ferengi, both consensual and non-consensual m/m
encounters, sometimes of an Unpleasant Nature, unlikely situations, a
certain lack of respect for members of the Cardassian military, and
Ferengi.

---

"Weyoun does not want to see any harm come to you, tailor."

"I'm grateful."

"I, on the other hand, have no such... reservation."

Garak shifted nervously behind the forcefield of the cell.  Two
minutes had been all he would have needed; two minutes to make his way
to the Defiant and escape DS9 before Gul Dukat and the Dominion had
taken it over.  But those two minutes were not to be his, thanks to a
garbled transmission from Dax that led him to believe the Defiant had
already gone.  He was unable to discover whether the garbling had been
deliberate or a result of interference from nearby Dominion ships, but
no matter.  Dukat, Weyoun, and their Jem'Hadar troops had boarded the
station, conducted a brief but effective search, and imprisoned him in
one of Odo's holding cells.  At least Dukat had refrained from having
him executed on the spot.

"If you're going to stand and stare at me all night, at least allow me
to lie down," Garak snapped irritably.  Dukat smiled.

"By all means, lie down.  Rest.  Sleep.  I wish you pleasant dreams,
tailor."  Garak swallowed, nervously watching as Dukat moved
imperceptibly closer.  "If there's anything I can do to make you more
comfortable..."

"No, thank you."

"As you wish."  Dukat turned and, with one last sarcastic grin, was
gone.

Garak released the breath he had been holding and sank down onto the
bunk.  Experienced as he was at reading the moods and expressions of
someone as unsophisticated as Gul Dukat, he found himself at somewhat
of a loss when trying to decipher the motivations of this new servant
of the Dominion.  He had no doubt that Dukat was nowhere near as loyal
and cooperative as he pretended to be; he would do whatever he needed
to do to further his own goals and no one else's.  But Dukat, in his
dealings with Weyoun, had evidently polished his clumsy attempts at
subterfuge into a high art; Garak could not help but be impressed.  He
only hoped he could find a way to call up the "old" Dukat and use his
knowledge of his opponent to his advantage.  Weyoun would not be able
to buy him additional time forever.

---

"I told you I wanted him dead."

"Now, now, Weyoun, be reasonable," Dukat purred.  "What possible harm
can one exiled tailor be to the mighty Dominion?"  The Vorta's blue
eyes blazed with irritation.

"This 'exiled tailor' is a highly dangerous former agent of the
Obsidian Order, Dukat," Weyoun snarled.  "Or do I need to remind you
of the trust your own father placed in him, on Bajor?"

Dukat's expression darkened but he continued to calmly caress the back
of Weyoun's neck, then slowly began sliding the Vorta's tunic open.
Weyoun stiffened but did not pull away.  Pulling away in the past had
earned him the bruises he still wore on his arms as well as the
humiliation of being forced into Damar's bed like some kind of shared
trophy.  No, appeasing Dukat was the far better choice. Weyoun smiled
and spread his hands out apologetically.  "We'll discuss this in the
morning then, Dukat.  We have much more important matters to - discuss
- tonight."  Dukat gasped as Weyoun leaned over and bit hard into one
of his neckridges.

Weyoun smiled slyly, his face still buried against the neck of his
unlikely lover.  In the course of the past few months he'd had plenty
of opportunities to study Dukat; first his ways in politics - then his
ways in bed.  Overall he'd found him demanding, insatiable and
arrogant beyond description, but also reassuringly predictable.  Like
all Cardassians.

Weyoun's hands began their familiar downward journey.

Just like all the other races in the Alpha Quadrant, he thought as his
skillful fingers found their target - making Dukat gasp for the second
time - Cardassians were easily controlled and successfully
manipulated, if one just knew how to.

Politics, sex - not that much of a difference, really, he mused,
undoing Dukat's uniform pants.  A bold lie here - a willing mouth
there... just so, oh yes... and now... fingernails, used just like
this...

The next thing he knew, Weyoun was lying, face down, on the carpet,
the great weight of Dukat's body holding him down.

"Very well," Dukat said dispassionately. "Let's proceed with those
'more important matters' now, shall we?  Now let me think..."  He
pushed a knee between Weyoun's legs, thus forcing them apart.  Easing
Weyoun's pants down over his slight hips, he announced, "I believe I
shall have you like *this* tonight!"

---

The night was a long one also for the exiled tailor whose fate was yet
to be decided and who was forced to spend it in the relative
discomfort of a holding cell.

Sleep kept eluding Garak, and despair about his bleak, dismal future
kept haunting him.  And so he spent seemingly endless hours tossing
and turning until finally, in the early hours of the morning
exhaustion got the better of him and he nodded off.

The sound of the door opening and closing again startled Garak and,
swiftly and not even yet fully awake, he sat up straight, half
expecting Gul Dukat or Weyoun, or for all he knew even both of them
and a troop of Jem'Hadar for good measure, but no: He found himself
face to face with his old friend, the dear Constable.  What a relief!

Odo was standing right at the force field and stared at him with his
usual scrutiny.  Garak was sure that if the Constable had had
eyebrows, he would have raised one of them in a mixture of surprise
and amusement.

"Garak!" said Odo in a tone of voice that made the Cardassian feel as
if he'd just been caught shoplifting.  "What are you still doing here?
I'd have thought that anyone with a third of a brain left yesterday."

"In that case, my dear Constable," Garak couldn't resist asking, "what
are *you* still doing here?"

"Thankfully I don't *have* a brain any longer," Odo countered with a
sardonic smile.  "Nor do I need one.  Now, come on! Out with it! Why
are you here? And who locked you up?"

"I was..." Garak would nearly have told a lie from sheer force of
habit and had to start again.  "The truth is, I was left behind.  I
was hiding in my shop when half a dozen Jem'Hadar found me and put me
in here."  This sounded painfully silly.

"Aw."  Odo cocked his head a little.  Apparently this enabled him to
gloat better.  "I am *so* sorry.  Forgive me if I'm wrong, but isn't
this the second time this happened to you?  Hm? It must be getting
very frustrating for you, getting left behind on every possible
occasion."  A smug grin crossed Odo's face.

"Yes, I have to admit that it is getting rather tiresome," Garak said
quickly, and then, "Odo, please let me out!"  There.  He'd said it.

Odo shook his head.  "You know I can't do that," he said and added,
grudgingly, "Besides, you're far better off in here, where I can at
least try and protect you from Dukat."  Then the Constable looked at
Garak long and hard, as if he thought that this might very well be the
last time he was going to see him and - with the inevitable snort -
eventually turned round and briskly headed for the door.

"Odo!  Odo, please!"  Garak shouted, but the shapeshifter had gone, as
quickly as he had arrived.  Garak slumped back down onto the bunk.
This was not going according to plan, not at all.  Odo was supposed to
have let him escape; he was then going to disguise himself and ship
out on a Ferengi cargo vessel.  The Ferengi were always looking for
strong men to work in their warehouses... and Ferengi captains were
always willing to accept oo-mox from species like the Cardassians and
the Klingons, to soothe their own feelings of inferiority while
humiliating others.  Garak grimaced involuntarily.  Perhaps it was
just as well that Odo had proven so recalcitrant...  The door of the
security office slid open and Odo entered once again.

"All right - I'll give you five minutes to get to docking bay three,
Garak, before I report you as missing."

The Cardassian's mouth hung open in shock.  "But - but - you said -"

"I said exactly what Weyoun wanted to hear - don't you realize I had
to make sure Rom had disabled the listening devices in my office
before I could let you escape?  Now go.  *Go*!"  The forcefield to
Garak's cell dissolved and he clapped Odo on the shoulder as he ran
for the door.  "The corridors are cleared," Odo reassured him.  "I
sent a false announcement of trouble in docking bay one to Dukat -
half the station was running for that area.  You're in no danger
whatsoever.  Daimon Tel is expecting you - I hear he makes a mean pot
of grub stew."

Garak couldn't help visualizing such a concoction as he made his way
cautiously down the corridor, his eyes darting in every direction.
Odo was a true friend after all, almost his savior -  it was only a
matter of time before Dukat would have found some reason to spirit him
off to Cardassia for execution despite Weyoun's protests.

This was all going to work out after all. He flexed his fingers - he
only hoped, should Daimon Tel be as fond of oo-mox from Cardassian
males as he suspected he was, that his skills in that somewhat untried
area would prove satisfactory.

The ship was waiting for him, just as planned - the Ferengi captain,
Daimon Tel, toothily and happily greeted him, eyeing his soft gray
hands all the while, and the other Ferengi on board the ship seemed
only too happy to welcome their new Cardassian workhorse - Garak had
never seen a scrawnier group of crewmen in his life.  He sighed.  This
wasn't going to be nearly as pleasant as he had hoped.  The work was
going to be arduous, the companionship would be minimal, and those
*ears*...

As soon as he could, he excused himself for a few moments of rest in
his tiny cabin, banging his head on the low doorway as he entered.
With a curse, he flopped down onto the hard little bunk and listened
to the whine of the ship's engines as they carried him far, far away
from Deep Space Nine and the sanctuary he had known for the past five
years.  Suddenly he heard a scraping sound coming from the tiny
closet, and he pressed a button to open the door - he *would* have
to worry about an infestation of Ferengi insects in the shabby little
cabin...  The door slid open and Garak's heart nearly stopped.

"Dukat..." he groaned.

After 25 years in the Obsidian Order and another five years on board
Deep Space Nine Garak considered himself absolutely unshockable.  He'd
seen it all, done it all - NOTHING could surprise him.  Nothing
except...

He swallowed hard.

Nothing except maybe the sight of his worst enemy, the pompous, self-
important Gul Dukat - well over six feet tall and fully armed and
armoured - inside a tiny closet in his tiny quarters aboard a Ferengi
freighter.

Infuriatingly enough, the Gul managed to look imposing and utterly
dignified even in this rather peculiar situation.  Nonchalantly he
stepped out of the closet, very much like a genie rising from his
bottle, straightened up and brushed a speck of dust off his otherwise
immaculate uniform.

"Well, well, well, Garak," he said in his usual condescending tone.
"Did you really think you could get away from me that easily?"

Garak, who'd meanwhile managed to regain most of his composure, chose
to ignore the Gul's rhetorical question.  "Let me guess," he called
out. "You have come to assist me with providing oo-mox to Daimon Tel.
Am I right?"

Dukat didn't even dignify that with a reply.  Instead he pulled his
phaser and pointed it at Garak's face.

"You are so much more predictable than you think, Garak," he said.

Garak noticed the mere hint of nervousness in his tone of voice.  How
very interesting!  The great Gul's nervous?  Nervous of what?

"I knew you were going to try to escape," Dukat continued. "I knew
that Odo, that soft-hearted old fool would let you, and I knew you'd
offer that despicable little Ferengi your... services."  He spat out
the last word with disgust.  Then he continued, "So I, too, went to
see Daimon Tel.  We had an enlightening conversation and came to an
agreement."  Dukat paused for effect.  "The good Daimon agreed to let
myself and three of my men come aboard to reclaim my prisoner: You,
Garak.  And now, my dear friend, it is showdown time: You and I.
Alone.  Just you and I...!"  He gave an evil laugh and raised his
disruptor.

"If you wanted me dead so badly," Garak said quickly, in an obvious
attempt to distract Dukat from his idea and gain time to devise a plan
that would provide a more permanent solution to this unfortunate
predicament, "why didn't you have me killed yesterday?  Could it at
all be that your new friend, the delightful Ambassador Weyoun, didn't
approve of your intentions...?"

For some disconcerting reason, this had absolutely no effect on Dukat
at all.

The Gul's smiled sweetly.  "Weyoun," he said, his voice like velvet,
"wanted you dead yesterday.  Something about a former spy being a
security risk for the station.  It was I who convinced him otherwise.
You have to thank me for the fact that your miserable life has been
spared.  For miserable it shall be, trust me - I shall see to that
personally..." He chuckled.

Garak was experiencing extreme discomfort.  His situation seemed to be
getting more dire every minute.

"Daimon Tel has been paid copious amounts of gold-pressed latinum to
take us all to Cardassia Prime," Dukat continued, "where we will
proceed to my private estate in Bhatam county.  There, my dear Garak,
you will spend the rest of your life wishing you had never been born,
for you will be my personal slave.  You will do as I please, speak
only when spoken to, see to my every need and sometimes," Dukat paused
and stepped very, *very* close to Garak. "Sometimes I may want you
to share my bed with me.  I am sure we will find a way to put your
mouth to better use than slandering and telling lies."

Garak swallowed hard at the mere prospect.

The door chimed.  More accurately, it wheezed - after all, this was a
Ferengi ship.  More amazing still than the sound was Dukat's reaction
to it.  Disruptor still in his hand, he lurched forward, towards the
closet which had closed automatically after he had stepped out.

"Quick! Open it!"  Dukat yelled as if his very life depended on his
being able to get back inside.

"Whatever for?"  Garak ventured, curiosity getting the better of the
enjoyment of seeing his enemy fidget and squirm.  Maybe this was going
to turn out to be fun, after all.  He opened the closet door and Dukat
pushed past him, inside, while yelling, "You don't understand!  They
are here!  They are here to get me!"

The door wheezed again, then flew open.  In came two men.  Two HUGE
men, almost identical and armed to their undeniably impressive teeth.
Unmistakably members of the Nausicaan race.

Garak stood open-mouthed, looking in utter confusion from the two
Nausicaans to Dukat who hadn't quite managed to pull the closet door
shut behind him.

"There he is!" growled one of the new arrivals.  The bass boom
resounded inside Garak's head.  "Let's get him and take him to Daimon
Tel!"

"Just a MINUTE," Garak called out impatiently.  "Who gave you
permission to enter my room?  Just who are you looking for here?"

The Nausicaans stared at Garak, then at each other, then at Garak, and
then at each other once more, all the while fingering their phaser
rifles with decidedly gleeful expressions.  One of them finally spoke.
"Let's take him too.  Might as well get it over with."

"Take 'him'?" Garak questioned them.  "Him who?"

"Him YOU, that's who!" the larger of the two shouted, as he lurched
forward and pointed the rifle at Garak's temple.  "Move.  MOVE!"  His
companion had already managed to wrench open the door of the tiny
closet and was unceremoniously shoving the mighty Gul Dukat into the
corridor, phaser digging into the Gul's back.  Garak winced and
partially turned to face his tormentor.

"Is this *really* necessary?  I assure you, when Daimon Tel finds out
just what it is the two of you are doing, and how you've deceived him
AND his passengers..."

"Passengers?" one of the Nausicaans snorted.  "The only passengers on
this ship are my friends and myself."

Garak gulped; this was not sounding particularly promising.  But he
smiled brightly and turned again to the Nausicaan who had spoken to
him.  "Well, surely you wouldn't call Gul Dukat and myself part of
this ship's CREW," he said appeasingly.  His guard only snorted again
in response. "Let me repeat, Daimon Tel will NOT be pleased at the way
you're treating his guests!  There will be serious repercussions!  You
two might find yourselves in a great deal of trouble with him!"

"Shut up, Cardassian," one of the Nausicaans growled, jabbing the tip
of the phaser into the small of Garak's back.

Garak shut up and continued to march down the corridor toward the
bridge, all the while stealing sidelong glances at Dukat who was being
similarly escorted.  Just what was going on, anyway?  Why were the
guards or terrorists or *whatever* they were, so gleeful about the
capture?  What was Tel's role in this?  If, as Garak suspected, Tel
had double-crossed him and allowed Dukat onto his ship, then why were
both he AND Dukat being taken prisoner?  Surely the Nausicaans knew
that there was only one Garak on board.  Unless...

They reached the bridge and the heavy doors parted.  The Cardassians
ducked their heads and stepped through the entranceway into the
cramped little room.  Dukat let out a hiss of suppressed rage at the
sight that greeted him.  Garak stared, openmouthed.  Three Cardassian
soldiers, stripped to the waist, were standing behind Tel's chair,
their hands chained behind them.  All three bore the evidence on their
backs of a recent whipping, and all three dropped their eyes when they
saw Dukat enter the bridge.  Dukat's eyes blazed but he did not speak;
the Nausicaans guarding his three men, and still holding the whips,
seemed to be waiting for an outburst from him, an outburst he would
not give.  Tel smiled, his wizened face crinkling with happiness at
the sight of the two newest Cardassians.  Garak was pushed forward
first and stood in front of the Ferengi, for the first time in his
life uncertain of what to say.

"Daimon," he began, but the Ferengi held up his hand in greeting.

"Garak!  My dear friend Garak!" Tel cackled.

"Tel," Garak began again, "I would like to know the meaning of all of
this.  We had an agreement - I was to work for you, in exchange for
safe passage away from Deep Space Nine and Dukat - and Dukat, no
doubt, had an agreement with you as well -"

Tel cackled again.  "Oh, piddle with all your agreements!  I have my
own agreements.  I agree that I need laborers for my warehouses, I
agree that I need laborers who'll work for nothing, and I agree that
five strong, healthy Cardassian males will make spectacular workers!"
He giggled with joy.  "And the best part of all is, my Nausicaan
friends owed me a favor - even THEIR services are free!"

"You can't be serious," Dukat finally and quietly sneered.  "You can't
actually believe that the Cardassian empire will stand idly by while
you put its ruler to work in your WAREHOUSE!  Your ship will be blown
into tiny pieces within ten minutes, you and your crew will be taken
prisoner, and if you're lucky enough to escape death with even ONE of
your limbs still intact, you will be -"

"Silence, Dukat!" Tel shrieked.  "Your mighty Cardassian empire can do
nothing - absolutely nothing.  My warehouses are hidden deep inside
Nausicaan territory, and completely undetectable.  And as for your
officers knowing you were on my ship - Well, an unfortunate accident
will shortly claim this little ship, and your people will mourn your
death as they survey the wreckage.  Jak," he said, turning to his
helmsman, "are we nearing the rendezvous point?"

"We've already arrived, sir," Jak smirked - a second later, a Ferengi
Marauder appeared on the viewscreen and Tel clapped his hands.

"Excellent - I've been so looking forward to trying out my new ship.
While I hate to forego the scrap value I could claim for this one,
it's for a VERY good cause.  Transporter room - prepare to beam us
aboard."

Garak closed his eyes in resignation.  Oh, how easy it all was, how
devilishly easy and how obvious.  No wonder the ship was old and
decrepit - it was shortly to be blasted into spacedust, while the
crew flew into Nausicaan space in a brand new and hitherto unknown
vessel.  He almost had to compliment Tel, the doddering old fool,
after all - the plan was brilliant.  Nearly foolproof.  But he
seriously doubted that Tel knew what he was in for, with Gul Dukat as
a warehouse slave and occasional oo-mox boy; Garak began to smile,
then opened his eyes and gasped in pain as his hands were roughly
pulled behind his back and his wrists tied together.

---

In the security office on the promenade, Odo was sitting at his desk,
in his hands a data padd at which he was staring with his usual
serious expression. Every now and then he shook his head, or let out a
sigh, or a snort - an old habit that had stayed with him from his days
as a solid.

Solid or not, he was NOT a happy man.

Garak's disappearance early that morning had so far not caused him any
trouble.  And that exactly WAS the trouble.  He had expected Gul Dukat
to turn up in his office at lunch time at the latest, pompous and
overbearing as always, and to start questioning him about Garak.

No sign of Dukat so far.

Odo shook his head for the fifteenth time in the last three hours,
then looked up.  Outside on the promenade, there was a man walking at
a swift pace towards his office.

Odo sighed - for the ninth time since the morning.  It was Weyoun.

"Enter," he said - and Weyoun walked in.

"Odo." Weyoun stood very still and, as always, cast his eyes to the
floor.  Odo was, after all, a Changeling; NOT a Founder, but a
Changeling nonetheless, and he had the right to expect to be treated
accordingly.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Odo rasped, thoroughly fed up
with the humility that the Vorta seemed to wear like a cloak whenever
he was around him.  It made him feel uneasy.

Weyoun pursed his lips a little and inclined his head even further.
He spread his hands in an almost apologetic gesture and, with a nod,
indicated that, yes, there was indeed something that he would have to
bring to Odo's attention.

"There is," he began in his strangely melodious voice, "the matter of
the disappearance of the Cardassian tailor, Elim Garak..." His voice
trailed off and his lips curved in a friendly smile, lest Odo should
take his words as a criticism.  "These things happen. Occasionally, a
prisoner - escapes."  He folded his hands and laced his fingers.  "Of
course, we have searched the whole station for him but it seems he has
- gone."  He gave a little laugh that was as melodious as his speaking
voice.  "Well. It seems he has found a way to get off the station
without anyone knowing.  How clever. One would almost think someone
HELPED him escape!"  He laughed again.

For a fraction of a moment, he looked up and Odo was met by eyes so
cold and dispassionate that, had he been a solid, a look out of them
would have sent shivers down his spine.

Luckily, Odo didn't have to take this from this humble servant of the
Dominion.

"Are you implying that _I_ let him go?" he said, as he crossed his
arms over his chest and willed his forehead to furrow.

The Vorta immediately raised his hands in a defensive gesture.
"Absolutely not!" he said, his tone of voice conveying no less than
shock.

"Good," said Odo and sank back in his chair.

Weyoun smiled again and gave a little bow, apparently pleased that the
misunderstanding had been sorted out.  "But," he continued, raising a
forefinger, "I am beginning to suspect that our friend, Gul Dukat, has
been involved in the incident."

Odo responded with a dismissive snort.  "Weyoun - you're obviously not
aware of the situation between Garak and Gul Dukat.  Trust me when I
tell you that YOUR friend Dukat would never let Garak out of a prison
cell while he was still alive."

The Vorta nodded. "This may be so," he chimed, "but there is still the
mystery of Dukat's disappearance..."

Odo stiffened.  "What do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard?" Weyoun said, faking surprise.  "Gul Dukat hasn't
been seen since the morning.  Of course, I am worried about my friend;
we have become quite close in the past few months..."

"So I've heard."

Weyoun gave an amiable smile, ignoring Odo's remark.  "We have been
looking for him everywhere, but it seems that - just like Garak!  What
an amusing coincidence! - he has left the station."

"Aw. I already miss him," dead-panned Odo.

"So do I," claimed the Vorta, and managed to give his face an
expression of genuine worry.  "So I was wondering if you, Odo, had any
ideas where he might have gone?"

Odo chewed on that for a couple of seconds.  Humanoids!  Seemed like
Dukat, that hot-headed idiot, had gone after Garak for revenge.  Well,
Garak would just have to look out for himself.

"All right," he said and handed Weyoun a data padd which the Vorta
accepted with a graceful nod.  "Here is a list of the ships that left
the station today."

The list was a lengthy one indeed as Odo, who'd known that the
question was bound to come up, had added a couple of fictive Ferengi
ships for good measure in order to mislead whoever was asking.
Unfortunately it hadn't been possible to erase Tel's freighter from
the records.

"Daimon Tel, hm? I wonder..." Weyoun pretended to have a hard time
placing the Ferengi.  "Isn't he the one with the Nausicaan crew...?"

"Maybe he is," grumbled Odo, annoyed he'd been found out so quickly,
"and maybe he isn't.  I only take interest in a ship's cargo, not in
its crew."

"Well, thank you Odo," beamed Weyoun, "you have been most helpful."
With that he bowed and turned round to leave the security office.

Daimon Tel!  The ambitious little man who had - like so many others of
his race - invested in buying his own moon; a moon on which he had
built a number of huge warehouses, and which happened to be in the
orbit of no other place than the Nausicaan homeworld.

Weyoun thought of the painful bruises that he had suffered at Gul
Dukat's hands only last night; he thought of all those other nights
that he had spent at Dukat's mercy as if he was an inanimate object or
a slave, only to be passed on like a second-hand toy to Damar or one
of the other soldiers who were permitted to have their cruel fun with
him in whichever way they chose.  All this, Weyoun thought with
satisfaction, was over now.  The tables were about to turn. It was
high time he paid the Nausicaan homeworld a visit and, while he was
there, inspect Daimon Tel's warehouses to ensure they were being run
up to Dominion standards...

---

"Would you mind sitting somewhere else, tailor?" Dukat snapped, as
Garak lowered himself onto the narrow bunk Dukat already occupied.

"I'm sorry - but it appears there are only two beds here, and five
people, and while I receive no joy from such close proximity to you,
I'm also getting a little tired of sitting on the floor."  Dukat
jumped to his feet.

"Fine - you may have the entire bunk to yourself."  He stalked to the
cell entrance and began to shout through the forcefield, "Tel?  I'm
warning you, Tel, you're not going to get away with this - my men are
going to locate this ship within hours and you'll be lucky if -"

"Sir?" one of his men interrupted him.  Dukat looked down impatiently.
"Sir, I wouldn't threaten him if I were you.  We've already tried that
and it only infuriated the Nausicaans."  He shifted uncomfortably as
he sat leaning against the wall.  Dukat, more enraged than ever, was
about to renew his tirade when Tel himself rounded the corner and
stepped in front of the cell.

"I understand you've been asking for me," he cackled.  "Are the
accommodations not to your liking?"

"The accommodations, Tel, would not be to a VOLE'S liking - this is a
cell for two."

"Well, then, I suggest you take this opportunity to get better
acquainted with your companions - You'll be spending much time
together in the years to come, in accommodations scarcely more
luxurious than this."

"Tel -"

"Dukat - it appears you are unwilling to admit that Ferengi ingenuity
has at last prevailed over Cardassian stubbornness and pride.  Fine -
you may continue to rant and rave; I, however, have more important
matters to attend to.  I have three warehouses, and would like to pair
each of you off so that there is a team of two Cardassians in each
one.  The only problem is, the last time I checked, there were only
five men here.  I need another Cardassian.  I will hope that one turns
up soon."

"Daimon Tel," Garak spoke up suddenly, "why do you need to risk
imprisoning us and enslaving us?  The Cardassian government will
surely come to our assistance and, in the process, exact a severe
penalty on you, and destroy your precious warehouses.  Why don't you
simply hire some of these Nausicaans -"  At the mention of the word
"hire," Tel recoiled as if he had been struck, and emitted a strangled
cry.  "Surely you wouldn't have to pay them much," Garak persisted,
but Tel had already clapped his hands over his gigantic ears and had
run, screaming, from the room.

"What's all this about?" one of the more ignorant of the Nausicaan
guards growled, coming into view.  "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing," Garak lied, but the guard had already lowered the
forcefield and was dragging Garak out of the cell by the arm.

"Well, then, let's see if I can loosen your tongue," the guard rasped,
reaching for a strap hanging from his belt.

Garak eyed it with trepidation, and noticed that Dukat, in the cell,
held the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.  Damn the dictatorial
bastard...

---

"So you see, Weyoun, they're gone," Damar proclaimed, pointing to the
star chart.  "Tel's ship has been destroyed, most likely through a
meteor collision.  None of the chunks we scanned were larger than one
meter in size."

"And you discovered no life pods?  No traces of another ship?"

"Nothing."  Damar looked genuinely distraught; Weyoun nearly felt a
little sympathy for him.

"Well, keep looking.  I don't think anyone as clever as Daimon Tel
could be done in by something so mundane as a 'meteor collision.'"  He
paused a moment in thought.  "Besides, I've contacted the Nausicaan
homeworld, where Tel operates his warehouses, and they know nothing
about any transfer of ownership, sale of vacuum disks, or anything
else that might lead me to the conclusion that Tel was dead."

"I hope you're right," Damar intoned.  Weyoun eyed him with interest.

"Damar, I'm shortly going to be paying a visit to the Nausicaans, to
see these warehouses for myself and find out all I can about Tel's
disappearance in the process.  I would like you to accompany me, as a
representative of the Cardassian government."

"You're going to have to choose someone else.  I'm now first in
command here, and I can't -"

"You're also the highest-ranking person I could bring, the one with
the most influence and the most ability to get the Nausicaans to
cooperate. I don't think they want to risk war with Cardassia over
this issue - you're to convince them that such a war is possible."

"You're right, of course," Damar conceded.  "All right.  We'll leave
in thirty minutes."

"Excellent," Weyoun smiled, giving Damar a secret little wink as the
First Officer, for a split-second, leered at him.  It would be
difficult sharing his cabin with the unimaginative but nevertheless
insatiable Cardassian during the trip; it would also give Weyoun
untold joy if that Cardassian could somehow be "left behind" or
otherwise made to feel Weyoun's wrath, on Tel's moon.  Perhaps just
the threat of being left behind would be enough.  Weyoun smiled again,
this time to himself, and began composing another message to the
Nausicaan Foreign Ministry.

---

"What's this?  What am I supposed to do with this?"

Dukat eyed the blue bundle that he had just been handed by one of the
Nausicaans with suspicion.

The Nausicaan bared his overly long teeth in a grin.

Dukat impatiently opened the bundle which consisted of - sleeveless
drill overalls and a pair of ankle boots.

"These are your workclothes, Cardassian," the guard sneered. "You're
supposed to put them on."

Dukat's jaw dropped open. "But this is ridiculous!" he protested. "I
shall not wear these. I shall..."

"I said, put them on!"  The guard reached for a vicious-looking
leather strap.

Dukat decided that this probably wasn't a good time to start an
argument and glowered at the guard in silence.

"Take a good look around," the Nausicaan suggested.  "Can you see
anybody who isn't happy with their new clothes? - Hey, YOU!"  He
stabbed a huge forefinger at one of Dukat's officers who'd already
stripped down to his waist.  "Do you have any problems with your new
clothes?"

"No problem," the man muttered and looked away. His back was still
marked from the beating he'd received earlier on.

"Does ANYBODY have a problem with the new clothes?" the guard yelled,
swaggering up and down in front of the forcefield and playfully lacing
the strap around his fingers.  "Any problems? Any complaints? No?"

Silence.

He walked back to where Dukat was standing and brought his head so
close to the energy field that Dukat could hear a hostile buzz.
"See," he sneered, "Everyone here is happy. Now PUT ON YOUR
WORKCLOTHES!  And you'd better look after them.  Daimon Tel is not in
the habit of replacing torn or damaged clothing more often than once
every five years."

With one final venomous glare Dukat pulled away and crossed to the far
end of the cell.  As much as he had enjoyed witnessing Garak's
whipping a little earlier on, he did not wish to end up in a similar
position providing entertainment for his arch enemy.  The other
prisoners gave him a wide berth.  Dukat dropped the bundle on the
floor and began unfastening his armour.  He would comply.  He would
wear that ridiculous outfit.  He would work.  However, his compliance
would be nothing but pretense and at the first chance he would turn
against his captors.  And then, he thought while swiftly stripping
down to his underwear and pulling on the ill-fitting overalls, may
whatever gods they believed in have mercy on their sorry souls!

"May I take this opportunity to tell you how handsome you look in this
outfit?"

Garak!

"I'm serious, Dukat," the tailor continued, looking him up and down
and up again with professionalism. "It really suits you! It is common,
it is cheap, it is crude.  In one word: It is you."  He gave an
amiable smile.

"You'd better make sure you stay out of my way, tailor," Dukat hissed
furiously as he slipped into his ankle boots.  "Or I promise you'll
end up wishing it was somebody else!"

They were interrupted by the arrival of more heavily armed guards.
"All right," growled their leader. "We have arrived at our
destination.  It's time to beam down. Daimon Tel's warehouses are
waiting for you."  He pulled a sizeable energy weapon from his belt
and pointed it in the general direction of the Cardassians as he
lowered the forcefield.  "Tel wants two of you in each of his
warehouses, so I am going to pair you off now."  He pointed the
disruptor at two of Dukat's officers.  "You.  And you over there.
You'll work together."

The two Cardassians stepped out of the cell and were escorted to the
transporter room.

The guard's eyes came to rest on Garak next.  "And YOU will be working
together with..." He looked from Dukat to the remaining other
Cardassian, evidently thrown off-balance by the sudden realisation
that whichever one he was going to choose now, he would be left with
only one Cardie for the third warehouse.  Dukat picked that rather
delicate moment to announce:

"I protest..."

"YOU," thundered the Nausicaan, having lost his not inconsiderable
temper, "ARE DOING THAT AN AWFUL LOT!"  He lurched forward and gripped
Dukat's shoulder, hurling him out of the cell and across the room.
"And I am getting truly sick and tired of it.  You and the OTHER
troublemaker, your friend here," - he reached for Garak and threw him
in the same direction - "are going to work together under my personal
supervision sorting self-sealing stembolts from this day onward for
the rest of your miserable lives.  Any more protests," - he glowered
at Dukat - "or any more clever remarks," - he scowled at Garak - "and
I will whip those scales off your lazy backs until you are begging for
mercy.  IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

"You have made yourself perfectly clear, thank you," Garak assured the
ill-tempered guard while rearranging his creased overalls.  "There
will be no further problems.  I am certain we'll all get along just
fine - won't we, Dukat?"  Dukat pointedly looked up at the ceiling and
mumbled something under his breath.  "It's his way of saying 'yes',"
translated Garak happily.

---

Weyoun sighed heavily and leaned his forehead on his hand.  This was
getting him nowhere.  The Nausicaan Foreign Ministry flatly refused to
share any information about Tel, his warehouses, or his business
dealings with their government, the Ferengi Commerce Authority
professed ignorance even after the promise of several sizable gifts of
latinum to its officials, and the Cardassian government was in an
uproar.  The Founders would not be pleased; more than that, the
disappearance and possible death of Gul Dukat, under Weyoun's very
nose, could lead to his demotion, with his clone all too ready to
assume his duties on Terok Nor.

No, something was going to have to be done, and done quickly.  The
Vorta, all evidence to the contrary, knew that Tel was not the sort of
man to lose his life because of a navigational error - he hadn't
survived this long, and in Nausicaan space, by being careless.  In
addition, Weyoun's admittedly rare contacts with the wizened old
Ferengi had taught him another useful fact about Daimon Tel - even
among his own people, he was regarded as unusually ruthless and
avaricious in the pursuit of profits. And what could gain him more
profit than perhaps, just perhaps, holding the absolute ruler of
Cardassia hostage?  The pieces were so quickly falling into place -
Garak's disappearance and undoubted defection to Tel's ship, Tel's
always-generous offers of shelter and asylum in return for labor and
oo-mox, Dukat's petty need for revenge and his seeking Garak aboard
Tel's ship, Tel's realization of an opportunity for untold profits
sitting practically in his lap... Yes, it was all lamentably obvious,
and also lamentably difficult to solve.  One false move and Tel would
no doubt vaporize Dukat on the spot rather than be implicated in such
a crime.

Weyoun sighed again and sent another communications signal, this time
to Ferenginar.  An elderly Ferengi female, evidently naked although
only her head and shoulders were visible, appeared on the screen.
"Sho," Weyoun began, assuming his most obsequious smile, "it is an
honor to speak with you again."

"We- Weyoun?" the Ferengi asked, puzzled.

"Yes - and I trust I haven't contacted you at an inopportune time."

"No, profits can be made both in the dazzling sun and while the
nightbird cries," she poetically answered.

"My thoughts exactly.  Sho - I'll be blunt.  I'm calling about - your
husband."

"My husband?  Has something happened?  Have you heard from him?"

"No, he left several days ago - but I thought you knew - I thought you
had been told..."

"Told?  Told what?"  Her eyes grew frantic with concern.

"I should not be the one to give you this information.  I regret
exceedingly the news I have to give you - but your husband Tel has
evidently been the victim of a most unfortunate - accident."  Weyoun
waited expectantly for Sho's outburst.

"Accident?" she repeated, puzzled.  "An accident?  But when he
contacted me, all was well - he told me to expect him in a few days,
just as soon as the new workers were settled in."  She stared off into
space, thoroughly confused.

"New workers?"  Garak was evidently not the only unfortunate soul Tel
had managed to snare for his warehouses.  Too bad the annoyingly smug
Cardassian hadn't had to suffer a little 'warehouse work' for the
Ferengi.  A former spy would have made a wonderful lifter of heavy
cartons and packages.

"Yes - he contacted me from Raylos 4 and told me all was proceeding
according to plan -"  Weyoun's eyes grew wide and he lurched forward
toward the screen.

"He contacted you FROM Raylos 4?  He was ON Raylos 4?"  Sho nodded.
Raylos 4 was the name of the moon Tel had purchased many years ago,
from a corrupt Nausicaan dictator.  He only managed to keep his hold
on it through generous payments to the new Nausicaan government,
payments that made it very difficult to pay a labor force a decent
wage...  Weyoun began to smile.  No - it wasn't possible.  It was too
ridiculous, too dangerous.  Tel would be a complete and utter fool to
even attempt such a thing... Still, a man who wouldn't caution his
own wife against revealing his whereabouts would not win any prizes
for intellect.  "Thank you, Sho, you've been most kind," Weyoun
smiled, cutting the connection even as Sho started to speak again.
Yes, he would DEFINITELY pay a little visit to Raylos 4 - as would
Damar, the insufferable bully.  He signaled Damar's quarters.  "I'm
ready to go," he announced.  "We've got to rescue Dukat."

---

"All right, workers," the Nausicaan thundered.  "Step closer and
carefully observe what I'm doing."  He waited until Garak and Dukat
were in front of the worktable.  "These are stembolts.  These are
self-sealing stembolts, and THESE," he pointed to a group lying off to
the side, "are not - they are defective.  Note the tiny holes in the
seal?"

Garak nodded; Dukat, bored, began to gaze off into the distance.
Suddenly, he emitted a sharp yelp of pain as a whip sliced across his
bare arms.

"As I was saying," the Nausicaan went on, placing the strap back on
his belt, "the defective ones can be recognized by the tiny holes in
the seal, a slight discoloration around the edges, or an unevenness in
the seal casing. Understand?"

Garak and Dukat both nodded.

"Your first job, when you receive a new shipment from the conveyor
belt, is to sort these bolts and place all the defective ones in the
canisters.  I wish you to keep two things in mind."  He paused
ominously.  "Rejecting a non-defective stembolt earns you two lashes.
Accepting a defective one earns you two lashes."

"But, sir," Garak interrupted, "if WE'RE the inspectors, then who's
going to determine whether we've sorted the bolts properly?"

"_I_ will be performing random inspections, Cardassian," the Nausicaan
sneered.  "And I will expect perfection, as does Daimon Tel.  You will
spend the next two hours sorting stembolts for my approval, before I
move on to your other assignments.  This, Worker One, is your
section."  He pointed to a conveyor belt, and Garak shuffled over.
"And this, Worker Two, is YOUR section."  He pointed to another belt,
and Dukat, after glaring at him, ambled over.  "Begin sorting."  He
folded his arms and watched impassively as dozens of stembolts began
to careen along the conveyor belts toward the two surprised
Cardassians.  "SORT!" the Nausicaan screamed, flexing the strap he
carried and letting a few blows land on the backs of Workers One and
Two for good measure.  "I want to get this conveyor belt moving at
full speed soon, so SORT!"

Garak felt perspiration begin to trickle down his forehead as he
frantically tried to keep up with the racing belt; each blow of the
lash only annoyed and then enraged him, breaking his concentration.
Dukat was faring no better.

"Worker Two, this one is DEFECTIVE!" he heard the Nausicaan roar, as
he picked a stembolt off of the conveyor belt.

Garak almost felt sorry for his former enemy, who had stopped working
and was staring, frozen, at the Nausicaan's heavy leather strap.

"Well, Worker Two, it seems you didn't pay any attention to my
instructions," the Nausicaan sneered, turning off the conveyor belt
and taking an intimidating step toward Dukat.  "Your carelessness
nearly cost Daimon Tel good money.  But don't worry.  A couple of
lashes will help you focus better in the future.  Now, turn around and
slide down your overalls."

Dukat stared blankly at the guard, then blinked.  This couldn't
possibly be happening to him, the absolute ruler of the Cardassian
Empire!

"Don't make me assist you," came the Nausicaan's voice, accompanied by
another vicious hiss of the strap.

Slowly - very slowly - Dukat turned around.  This one would be the
first to die, he thought as he undid the fastenings and slid his arms
out of the sleeves, thus exposing his bare back - and he would die
slowly and miserably.

No-one had ever dared lay hands on Gul Dukat before.  He therefore was
totally unprepared for the pain when the first blow fell across his
back and exploded right between his shoulders.  He nearly lost
balance, took an involuntary step forward and was yanked back by his
torturer.

"That's THREE lashes now, Worker Two!"

"What...!"

"SILENCE! FOUR lashes!" the Nausicaan roared, obviously enjoying the
task.  "Didn't I tell you the rules, Cardassian? The rules are: Don't
move and don't talk back!"

Another blow, administered with even more strength and dedication than
the first, landed on Dukat's back and was followed by a third one that
was lain with precision across the welts that were only just starting
to form.  Dukat gasped.  One more, he thought to himself, and it would
be over.  However, the guard was in no hurry to end his subject's
ordeal and took his leisurely time admiring his work while Dukat was
obliged to wait in silence with nothing better to do but to ponder his
tormentor's execution and anticipate the pain.  Then, after what
seemed like an eternity, with a deadly sound, the whip came down on
his back once more, this time at waist level.

It was over.

The pain was excruciating.

When it finally started to subside, Dukat began pulling his overalls
back on again, stifling a gasp as the rough fabric rubbed against his
sore back.

"WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO GO?"

Dukat startled.  Who'd have thought that servitude would be so
difficult to bear?  The pain, he could deal with.  The work, he would
get accustomed to in time.  But that overbearing, insufferable guard
he hated with a blinding passion that was all but impossible to
control.

"The punishment was four lashes, was it not?", he hissed, having to
force himself to keep his voice down. "I assumed that..."

"Don't just 'assume' anything. _I_ decide when your punishment is
over.  Is that clear, Worker Two?"

Dukat hesitated, not quite sure as to what was expected of him.

"I said, IS THAT CLEAR?" came the Nausicaan's voice again.

"Yes..." hissed Dukat.

"That's 'yes, SIR'!" the Nausicaan roared and, in order to emphasise
his words, viciously brought down the strap on Dukat's rear.

THAT did it.  Garak's jaw dropped as he watched his former nemesis
spin around and attack his tormentor with a howl of rage.  Self-
sealing stembolt after self-sealing stembolt whizzed past him on the
conveyor belt.  It no longer mattered.  They were doomed anyway.
Ferengi entrepreneurs did not value workers who rebelled against their
overseers.  Their relatively comfortable assignment sorting stembolts
was over.

A horrific noise came from across the room.  Dukat had managed to slam
the Nausicaan, who was evidently caught completely off-guard, into the
conveyor belt which gave way under his great weight.  The machine
began to cough and wheeze but started to dutifully produce self-
sealing stembolts en masse which - as the conveyor belt had been
damaged - it kept ejecting onto the floor until Dukat and his
Nausicaan opponent were up to their ankles in stembolts.

Dukat wasn't doing badly, but the Nausicaan was over 20 centimeters
taller and nearly three times as wide as he.  As the fight continued,
it became painfully obvious who the winner was going to be.  With a
roar of triumph the Nausicaan picked Dukat up by the waist and threw
him into a heap of stembolts, hurling himself on top of him and
sitting down across his chest.  One merciless blow after the other
came down on Dukat's face.

Garak did something he'd never thought himself capable of doing: He
came to Dukat's rescue.

In a couple of strides he was across the room, picked up the leather
strap which in the course of the fist fight had been dropped on the
floor and wrapped it tightly around the Nausicaan's neck.

"Stop it!" he commanded.  The Nausicaan made a gurgling sound and
complied.  "Very good.  And now you will have to get off this poor
man's chest, if you're so inclined.  You see, he is finding breathing
just as difficult as you... just sit down on the floor instead... very
good, thank you. And now that we have ALL calmed down," - Garak paused
to shoot Dukat a deadly look, -  "why don't we all put this
regrettable incident behind us and get back to work, hm?

At that juncture the door flew open, and Daimon Tel and his four
Nausicaan bodyguards stepped into the workroom to be greeted by
pandemonium:  One of the most expensive machines in the complex had
been damaged, probably beyond repair, and was senselessly spitting out
stembolts - all of which were faulty, as a brief inspection confirmed
- onto the floor.  In addition the two new Cardassian workers were
holding their overseer, who was emitting strange high-pitched sounds
that hurt the Ferengi's sizeable ears, down and were apparently
attempting to strangle him.

Tel clapped his wrinkled hands.  "GET THEM!" he screeched.

The four bodyguards set to work without further ado, dragging the two
Cardassians as well as the unlucky overseer to their feet, twisting
their arms behind their backs and motioning them forward until they
came to a halt immediately before Tel.

"Well, well, well.  Garak and Dukat.  I must say you disappoint me,
gentlemen.  But then, it is a well known fact that Cardassian and
Klingon workers take the longest to break in. I should have known
better than to expect you to be able to handle stembolts right away."

Tel looked from Dukat, who was sporting several bruises as well as a
black eye, to Garak who smiled as innocently as only Garak was capable
of, and back again.  Then he broke out into a maniacal cackle and
flung both his arms up in the air as he spoke to his bodyguards.
"Take them away!  Take them - TO HALLWAY NUMBER 102!"

And so, once again, Garak and Dukat found themselves led away towards
uncertainty.

Tel, however, stood on his tiptoes and reached out to smack the
unlucky overseer hard across the face.  "You dope! I will hold you
responsible for the damage!  You will work for me without pay for the
next 24 months."

---

"We're nearing Nausicaan space, sir," the helmsman confirmed; Damar
nodded and looked over at Weyoun to make sure the Vorta had heard as
well.  Weyoun was slouched down in one of the command chairs, looking
decidedly uncomfortable.  Damar smirked - it wasn't every day he got
to play "Vorta hostage" with a real, live Vorta - he doubted Weyoun
had ever been put through so much in one night, even by the mighty and
overbearing Gul Dukat.  No, the scheming little Vorta had needed to be
told just who his master was, and Damar had been all too pleased to do
the telling.  "On your knees, prisoner," he had commanded him; then,
"keep your hands behind your back..." "faster..." "slower..." "I
didn't tell you to stop..." "I want to try it with you blindfolded,"
and on and on it had gone.  Oh, what a night.  Damar yawned - what an
exhausting night as well, and Weyoun was looking no better.  But the
announcement about Nausicaan space had caused his expression to
brighten somewhat.

"Damar," Weyoun purred, rising and sliding up behind him, "I don't
think there's any need to go out of our way to announce ourselves to
the local authorities.  Our destination isn't even Nausicaa, but
Raylos 4.  The less warning we give to Daimon Tel or _whoever_ is
running his warehouses, the better."

"Agreed," Damar nodded.  "Helmsman, plot a course for Raylos 4 - with
as indirect an approach as possible.  We may just be able to 'sneak up
on them,'" he smiled to Weyoun.

"Yes, such a tactic would be very wise," Weyoun solemnly agreed.  His
blue eyes danced even while his expression remained serious and
concerned.  Even if Tel and his prisoners WERE dead, what satisfaction
it would bring to strand Damar in one of the warehouses, with the
Nausicaan overseers - of course, he'd have to be rescued eventually,
but Weyoun would give almost anything to witness those priceless few
minutes or hours before the Cardassian was freed from his prison.  He
nearly grinned at the thought.

"Sir," the helmsman cried, "I'm reading Cardassian life signs on
Raylos 4 - five of them."

Damar ran for the control to see for himself. "Five of them, hmm?  Gul
Dukat, the security detail, and that tailor.  Can you pinpoint their
location?"

"Not yet, sir."  The helmsman's gray fingers danced over the controls.
"It appears... it appears that two of them are in a warehouse, one is
in another warehouse, and two more... are in what looks to be a
structure housing private living quarters of some kind."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because they're in very close proximity to Ferengi lifesigns... VERY
close, sir."  Damar, puzzled, scratched his chin.  "In fact, sir,
they're... almost on TOP of Ferengi lifesigns... sleeping."  Weyoun
smiled with barely-suppressed glee.

---

The Nausicaans showed little mercy as they pushed Garak and Dukat
along the hallways and corridors that connected the vast labyrinth of
warehouses and other buildings.  Garak had lost count of the number of
lashes that rained down on his back, or the number of times Dukat had
begun to protest, only to be silenced by a lash or a kick from one of
the guards.  It seemed the journey through the corridors would never
end, when suddenly, with a cackle of satisfaction, Tel halted and
pointed to a sign mounted on the wall.  "Hallway 102 - THIS way," he
beckoned.  So.  This was it.  Death by torture - Hallway 102 was
undoubtedly the punishment facility.  Garak only hoped the proceedings
would be brief and merciful - with Tel, that was certainly possible,
as long drawn-out executions cost time and money.

But Hallway 102 led, not to cells or an interrogation chamber, but to
a set of doorways that opened to reveal... luxurious private living
quarters, of the sort only a Ferengi could truly appreciate.  The
artificially-reproduced sound of falling rain was everywhere,
surrounding them, and the moist heat was a welcome relief to Garak
after the chill air of the warehouse.  The guards positioned the two
prisoners in the center of a large, open space in the room and
withdrew slightly, weapons trained unwaveringly on the Cardassians all
the while.

"Now," Tel cackled, after briefly stopping to check a communications
device for messages, "I don't want you to think that insubordination,
destruction of goods and property, and the attempted strangulation of
your foreman are actions I condone."

"Of course not, sir," Garak immediately replied, but Tel held up a
hand to silence him.

"However... it seems that certain allowances must be made.  Two
strong, healthy, virile specimens of Cardassian manhood like
yourselves can't be expected to instantly conform to proper standards
of worker behavior.  A certain... 'breaking in' period is required."
Garak, horrified, realized just where Tel was headed with that train
of thought, as the wrinkled Ferengi crept up to him and placed a
green-nailed hand on his chest, then began to trail the hand downward.
Garak flinched and tried desperately not to show any other reaction,
but Dukat, eyeing the proceedings with disbelief, had started to move
away from the little group, till a guard pointed his weapon at his
face.  "Now," Tel continued, "I'm a happily married man for many, many
years - but even happily married men have been known to - weaken - in
the presence of male Cardassian pheromones.  And you, my two prizes,
are emitting pheromones so think I could nearly cut them with a knife,
after your little scuffle with my foreman."

It was true, Garak woefully decided - the rage, the combat, the
overpowering sense of injustice and humiliation, had all combined to
put him in a state of embarrassing and uncomfortable arousal - and he
could just imagine how Dukat must be feeling.  But to have that
perfectly natural process used against them, to have it exploited and
publicly exposed by the nauseating Tel and his vicious bodyguards...
It was beyond belief.  Tel had stepped over to the wall and pressed a
button.  Organ music began to swell around them as, directly in front
of the two terrified Cardassians, the floor seemed to part and a
large, ornate and obscenely ostentatious bed raised itself into view.

"We're - we're not -" Dukat spluttered.

Garak, realizing that an unexpected opportunity may have been granted
them, as well as a pardon of sorts from certain death, made up his
mind and turned decisively to Dukat.  "Oh yes we are."

"Not -"

"Oh yes.  That."

"I won't do it."

"You will.  You and I, together, on that bed."

"No, I will NEVER -"

"Dukat," Garak sighed, "be reasonable.  We have no choice but to obey,
so why not try to enjoy ourselves as much as we possibly can.  Tel is
a kind and generous man and deserves our unending gratitude and
support."

"I'm glad you agree," Tel toothily grinned, climbing up onto the high
bed with difficulty and settling himself back among the pillows.  "My
guards will keep their weapons trained on you, however, in case you
change your minds.  Now, let's go!  Up, onto the bed!"  Dukat could
barely move, so frozen was he with shock and disgust, but Garak
reached out and yanked him onto the mattress.  "There now," Tel
burbled happily.  "Arrange yourselves properly - assume the correct
position... That's it, one on either side... Keep those hands out
where I can see them...  All right, gentlemen, pleasure me!"  He
collapsed back onto the mattress, his eyes closed, an enormous smile
crinkling his face.

Garak and Dukat looked at each other, then looked at the monstrous,
folded and creased ears, sighed in unison, and reached out their
hands.

---

"See, what did I tell you, Weyoun?" Damar stood, hands on hips, and
cast his eyes across the hallway where they'd just materialised.  He
was evidently trying to emulate Gul Dukat's mannerisms and tone of
voice to the best of his abilities, which, unfortunately, weren't very
impressive.  "Absolutely no-one around.  As I said, alerting the local
authorities would only have been an unnecessary risk.  Sneaking up on
them was the far better solution."

"Of course." Weyoun smiled amiably, knowing that reminding the
swaggering fool that it had been HIM who'd come up with the plan in
the first place would only earn him more bruises the following night.
"And what, if I may be so curious, is the next step in your plan to
rescue Gul Dukat?"

"That's easy.  We'll find the room in question, blow up the door,
shoot the tailor, threaten Tel, grab Dukat and beam out.  You see?
Fast and effective."  With that, Damar pulled his disruptor and,
emulating Dukat's brisk step, was off down the hallway.  Before Weyoun
could intercept him he turned a corner.  "See, there are Ferengi
lifesigns right... here."

Damar slid to an abrupt halt barely half a meter away from a woman.

She was Ferengi all right.  Petite, very young, with smooth, pale skin
and emerald green eyes, she was rather attractive.

She also was completely naked.

Damar swallowed, opened his mouth and shut it again.

The naked girl graced him with a delightful smile, expecting him to
say something and then, as he didn't, turned to Weyoun whose eyes lit
up in recognition.

"Shokumi," he chimed, "Shokumi Tel! Is that really you?"

The girl nodded.  "Hello, Weyoun. It's good to see you again. And you
brought a friend...!"

As Damar still showed no desire to introduce himself, or indeed say
anything at all, Weyoun jumped in, "This is Gul Damar, representative
of the Cardasian military.  Damar, this is Shokumi Tel, daughter of
the famous Daimon Tel."

"I'm so pleased to meet you, Gul Damar!" The girl reached out a naked
hand which was attached to a naked arm which was attached to... Damar
shook his head to get rid of these disturbing thoughts.

"Pleased to meet you too... madam," he said and took the girl's hand.

"Well, Weyoun," said Shokumi about half a minute later, freeing her
hand with gentle force and turning to the Vorta, "Mother told me that
you called yesterday.  She said you were looking for father."

"She KNEW that?" Weyoun sounded plainly surprised.

Shokumi laughed brightly.  "My mother is exceptionally intelligent -
for a female.  You'd better remember that, but please, don't tell my
father."

Weyoun smiled.  "Your mother's secret is safe with me. But tell me, my
dear, what are you doing on Raylos 4?"

Shokumi's expression clouded over.  "You see, Weyoun, Father is
getting old.  His lobes aren't as keen as they used to be.  His crazy
ideas constantly get him into trouble.  He needs someone to keep an
eye on him, and who'd be better qualified than his daughter?"

"Indeed," Weyoun conceded.

"So I came here to see what was going on, and why you were taking such
keen interest in my father all of a sudden.  Of course I was pleased
to find him happy and well after a trip to that space station near the
Wormhole... By the profits of my great-grandfather, silly female that
I am, I have forgotten its name!"

"Terok Nor."

"Of course.  And I was delighted to hear that he had brought home five
strong new workers.  Cardassians, I believe.  My father has always
been very fond of Cardassians.  Very understandable, isn't it,
Weyoun?"  Weyoun was spared an answer as Shokumi Tel turned to Damar
and gave him a coquettish look.  "You are such a strong, handsome
people!"

"Uh...madam." Damar shifted sheepishly from one booted foot to the
other.  Women should NOT be allowed to run around naked.  Naked women
did terrible things to a man's equilibrium.

Shokumi turned back to Weyoun.  "I know it sounds cruel, putting those
gorgeous men to work in our warehouses, but what are we supposed to
do?  We can't very well HIRE workers, now can we?  How would that
LOOK?"

"Indeed.  How would that look?"  Weyoun appeared to be as shocked at
the notion as Shokumi.  "And yet, Shokumi, there is one particular
Cardassian whose fate we shall have to discuss.  His name is Gul
Dukat.  He is a very important figure in Cardassian politics.  I'm
afraid we want him back."

"Oh, how thoughtless of me!" Shokumi suddenly exclaimed.  "You men
must be starved after your long journey!  We females can't keep our
minds on ANYTHING!  I am SO sorry!  Now, why don't we discuss Gul
Dukat over a nice glass of freshly squeezed snailjuice and a bowl of
chilled tubegrubs, hm?"

"That would be delightful, Shokumi," declared Weyoun and slipped his
arm through hers.  Off they were, along the corridors.  Damar, not
knowing what else to do, followed them, eyes fixed on the petite
Ferengi.

Shokumi came to a halt in front of one of the doors.  "These are my
private quarters," she explained and pressed a button.  The door
opened readily and they stepped into a rather small, elegantly
furnished room.

"Now," said Shokumi when they'd all settled around a low table,
"let me call for my servants to bring the refreshments."  She
activated the comm system with the touch of a button and ordered some
Ferengi delicacies at the mere mention of which Damar's stomach began
to turn.  Barely a minute later the door slid open and in came two
Nausicaans, carrying a tray each.

Damar's hand shot to his disruptor but was intercepted by Shokumi's
dainty little fingers.  "Relax, Gul Damar! I can assure you, you have
nothing to worry about."  The Nausicaans put down the trays on the
tabletop - and waited.

"Please help yourselves!" said Shokumi.  "The tubegrubs are quite
fresh."

There was a period of uncomfortable silence during which several fat,
maggot-like creatures, about five centimeters in length each, managed
to escape from the shallow bowls they'd been served in.  "Evidently
so," noted Weyoun, reaching for one of the runaways.

Damar quickly shut his eyes.

There was a sucking sound followed by a heart-felt "How delicious!"
Weyoun, of course, found ANYTHING delicious.  It was in his
genetically engineered nature to find even the most revolting and
detrimental substances delicious, delightful and digestible.

"I'm sorry that you're not feeling well, Gul Damar," said Shokumi,
letting her naked thigh brush accidentally on purpose against Damar's
uniformed leg while at the same time squeezing his hand a little bit.
"You haven't even touched your snailjuice!"

Damar cleared his throat and began composing a reply when Weyoun
chimed in, "Now that we're all here together as friends, maybe we
could begin to discuss Gul Dukat...."

"Oh yes," said Shokumi.  "Gul Dukat. You know, it seems father is
quite fond of him."

"Of course he is."  Weyoun nodded vigorously.  "Gul Dukat is a strong,
handsome man in his best years.  But unfortunately he is also a high
ranking military officer and the Cardassians want him back."

"Well, he IS their military leader," Shokumi offered.

Weyoun raised an eyebrow.  "I must say you are very well-versed in
foreign affairs!"

Shokumi smiled mysteriously while absently caressing Damar's knee.
"Profits can be found under the rainclouds of Ferenginar and under the
suns of foreign worlds.  I'm quite sure we can come to a satisfactory
arrangement regarding Gul Dukat without having to bother my father
with the details.  Don't you think so, Weyoun?"

"Oh, yes," Weyoun looked at her with no less than respect and
admiration.  "I can see absolutely no reason why we should trouble
your father with such a trivial matter."  He leaned across the table.
"How much?" he whispered.

"50,000 bars of gold-pressed latinum..." came the almost apologetic
reply.

"WHAT?!"  Weyoun and Damar had spoken in unison.

"...and the delicious Gul Damar!"  Shokumi added with an adorable look
at the Gul's in question.

---

Dukat woke from an uneasy sleep with a cramp in his right hand.
Without opening his eyes he tried flexing it - and realised it was
still clamped around a fleshy ear.  Dukat groaned and buried his face
in the pillow.  What a night!  Daimon Tel was, to be fair, amazingly
virile for his age.  Seven times in one night was quite an
achievement, even by Cardassian standards.  Dukat pulled his hand back
and forced his eyes open.  The old Ferengi was lying on his back, on
his face a relaxed, happy expression.  Occasionally he grunted or
smacked his lips.  Quite evidently, he was asleep. Dukat sat up and
looked around.  Only two of the six Nausicaans had stayed and were now
sitting on a bench, snoring, their heads slumped forward.  He turned
to Garak who was lying perfectly still, staring at the ceiling.

"Psst... Garak!"

"Dukat.  Tel is asleep."

"I know.  And so are the guards."

"I believe this would be the perfect time to..."

An evil cackle brought the conversation to an abrupt end.

"I believe this would be the perfect time to entertain your master!"
Tel reached out his wrinkly hands to grab each Cardassian by a
neckridge.  "Let me tell you a secret, boys: A Ferengi's ears NEVER
sleep."  He clapped his hands.  "Hello? HELLO?"  The Nausicaans,
startled out of their sleep, mechanically reached for their weapons
and expectantly looked at their master.  Satisfied, Tel turned his
attention back to Garak and Dukat.  "I think I have had enough oo-mox
for now," he declared dreamily.  "Let's try something else, shall we?
How about I watch while you two pleasure each other, hm...?"

Garak stared at Dukat.  Dukat stared at Garak.  Both men turned and
stared at Tel, their faces frozen with shock.  "P- p- p- 'pleasure'
each other?" Dukat whispered, barely able to breathe.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Tel giggled.  "You know how, I'm sure, and don't tell
me Cardassians don't do that sort of thing, my handsome friend.  I
remember two Cardassians who were my temporary guests several years
ago - two men almost as attractive as the two of YOU," he continued
dreamily, remembering, then roused himself.  "Well... after
entertaining me very satisfactorily for several days, they escaped.
That was before I took to inviting my Nausicaan guards into my bedroom
as well.  Anyway, they both proved to be VERY proficient at this sort
of - thing.  Why, I have a feeling they're still thanking me for
introducing them!"

Dukat, horrified, suddenly recalled the disappearance and then
mysterious re-appearance of two of his men near the Badlands, three
years earlier.  Those men had never fully  explained where they had
been or what they had done;  their words were unusually evasive even
by Garak's standards.  Yet they HAD requested shared quarters
immediately after that, and Damar reported that he had seen them
holding hands...  Dukat roared and attempted to slide off the bed.
The Nausicaans, always primed for a fight, ran up to him, weapons
brandished; one of them smacked him across the face.

"Now, now," Tel chided him, "just calm down.  Relax.  Your friend
GARAK is relaxed."

Well, of COURSE he is, Dukat fumed - he and that doctor friend of his
could probably show Tel things the old goat had never even IMAGINED...

"You know," Tel interrupted his thoughts, "if you don't cooperate, I'm
sure the other men I captured with you WILL.  And you and Garak can go
back to the warehouse and - oh yes, I just remembered - my overseer is
very angry with you.  VERY angry.  I was going to assign you a new
one, but I might not be able to FIND one for a few days..."  He
giggled menacingly.

Garak leaned closer to Dukat.  "Listen, you fool," he hissed, "if you
think being beaten into a pulp by that lunatic is better than a few
minutes rubbing my ears, then you're even more ignorant than I always
thought you were."

"Rubbing your ears?" Dukat replied, puzzled.  "I'm sure Tel wouldn't
be fooled by -"

"How does HE know what we like?  We'll just tell him he's inspired us.
Now, hurry up.  Get back in bed."  Dukat climbed all the way back up
onto the high mattress.  Tel had moved to the opposite side, leaving
Garak and Dukat alone on the mound of pillows.  "Now, just reach out
your hand and touch my ear.  I'll do the same," Garak whispered.
"Close your eyes as if you're swooning.  DO it!"  Dukat, with
difficulty, closed his eyes as he felt Garak's hand grasp the outer
rim of his ear.  He couldn't see Garak, but he heard the other emit a
groan of pleasure as Dukat trailed his fingers down the curve of his
ear, toward the ridge.  He also couldn't see Tel, and thus didn't know
that the voyeuristic old Ferengi was staring at the two men with
shock.

"Wh - what are you DOING?" he finally screeched, causing the
Cardassians to open their eyes.

"Pleasuring each other, sir," Garak answered.  "We're finding out just
how glorious this oo-mox can be.  If you hadn't shown us how -
stimulating - such an activity is, we might never have known.
Imagine!  Seven times in one night!  Dukat and I can never HOPE to
reach those -heights."

"But - but -" Tel spluttered, "but Cardassians don't DO that!  They
have no pleasure centers in their ears!!"

"How do YOU know?" Garak replied dreamily, as Dukat, fully into the
spirit now, gently cupped Garak's ear in one hand and lightly blew on
it.  "Perhaps you've awakened pleasure centers dormant for millennia,
through your eminent example."

"Perhaps," Tel grudgingly admitted.  "Perhaps."  He watched in silence
for a few moments as Garak gently pinched Dukat's ear lobes and then
leaned forward to nibble them; Dukat groaned, and only Garak could
tell that it was partially from irritation.  "But still..."

"Yes, master?" Garak asked, his mouth still on Dukat's ear.

"Well, I must confess that I was rather hoping to see some - well,
some -"

"Yes, master?"

"Well, some... Listen, you boys ever hear of oral sex?"

"Oral SEX?"  Garak exclaimed, indignant, his teeth letting go of
Dukat's ear.  "This IS oral sex.  Just look at Dukat."  He nudged
Dukat, who groaned with seeming passion and fell back onto the
pillows.  "He can hardly stand another minute of this, he's so
overcome.  And I myself - why, if this keeps up, I may just go crazy
from the stimulation... I mean, compared to that boring, old-fashioned
stuff, this is - this is -"  He began to breathe a little harder.

Tel, after studying the two for a moment, looked over to his guards
and beckoned them to stand by the bed.

"Perhaps you need a little rest from it, then."

"Perhaps we do," Garak hesitantly answered, eyeing Tel and the guards
warily.

"All right.  Strip off those overalls, both of you.  I want you and
Dukat to show me some of that boring, old-fashioned stuff."

Dukat's eyes flew open.

---

"No, I won't do it!" Damar roared.

"Please, Damar," Weyoun spread his hands placatingly, "no one is
asking you to remain here forever.  No one is asking you to do
anything that Dukat himself wouldn't do for YOU, were he in your
position.  Think of it - offering yourself as a sacrifice for the good
of Cardassia, knowing that generations of Cardassians will be indebted
to you and will revere you -"

"NO!" Damar roared again; to his horror, he saw Weyoun give a
reluctant nod to the two Nausicaans standing in the corner of the
room.  As if by magic, they each drew impressively menacing weapons
and were upon Damar in an instant, removing his own weapon and
twisting his arms behind his back.  "Please, Damar," Weyoun shouted
above the sound of Damar's struggles and curses, "please don't
embarrass me like this in front of Shokumi.  She and I have reached an
agreement regarding Dukat - haven't we, my dear?"  Shokumi smiled
happily.  Damar continued to struggle. "While I admit that fifty
thousand bars of gold-pressed latinum is a trifle steep, I'm sure we
can work out some sort of - payment plan."

"Of COURSE we can!" Shokumi beamed; then, addressing the guards, "take
him to Warehouse 2 - it needs another worker, and he might as well be
made useful till I arrange proper quarters for him here."

"Ah."  Weyoun paused, seemingly in thought.

"Yes, Weyoun?" the Ferengi prodded him.  "What is it?"

"You mentioned he'll be staying here with you."

"Yes, Weyoun."

"Well... I don't like to bring such things up, to a delicate, refined
lady like yourself, but Damar isn't what you'd call a - lady's man."

"WHAT?" Shokumi and Damar both chorused.

"No.  Believe me when I tell you this, my dear," Weyoun said, loud
enough for the Nausicaans to hear, "but Damar is rather fond of - no,
I really can't say," he trailed off, embarrassed.

"Please - what is it?" Shokumi insisted, her eyes brightening.

"All right.  You've persuaded me.  Damar likes to play a game called
'Cardassian Hostage,' and those two Nausicaans look like perfect, ah,
'playmates' for my clever friend.  He's only PRETENDING to struggle,
my dear - you should have seen him last night."

Shokumi laughed, Weyoun laughed, the guards laughed, and Damar pledged
Weyoun's imminent demise as he was dragged from the room, the
Nausicaans grinning with anticipation.

"And now," Weyoun smiled, when all had become quiet once again, "just
where have those tubegrubs gotten to?  We still have business to
discuss." He began to search around the bowl, while Shokumi rested her
chin on her folded hands and watched him adoringly.

---

"Do you realise," Dukat hissed angrily, "that this is all your fault?
If you had stayed in your holding cell, none of this would have
happened."

"Of course not.  I should have stayed in there and waited for either
Weyoun to execute me, or for you to take me to your private estate on
Cardassia as your personal slave.  THAT would have saved me a lot of
trouble!" Garak stared defiantly at Dukat whose face, ashen with
unconcealed anger, was barely five centimeters away from his own.
Dukat was completely naked; so was he.  He had so far been unable to
bring himself to touch the other man but knew all too well that the
Ferengi and the two curious Nausicaans were running out of patience.
"All right, Dukat," he said with a heavy sigh, "let's get it over
with, shall we?  I'll go first.  You just relax and enjoy.  After all,
this IS what you had me destined for, isn't it?"  He reached out his
hand.  "Enjoy it while it lasts, because when it is over, my friend,
we will trade places..."

"NEVER!" yelled Dukat, recoiling at the mere thought of what was ahead
of him and pulling away.  "Do you hear me? Never!"

"I believe the order was to 'pleasure each other'," Garak insisted,
grabbing Dukat by the shoulders and yanking him close, "and that is
exactly what we're going to do.  Now stop being so hysterical..."

"I am NOT being..." Dukat paused to give Garak a good shove and at the
same time think of a less embarrassing word.  He couldn't find one.
"...hysterical," he concluded.

"WONDERFUL!" came Tel's voice from the other end of the enormous bed.
The Ferengi kicked his legs and squealed with delight. "Absolutely
wonderful!  Aggression.  Antagonism.  Verbal sparring.  That's what
Cardassian foreplay is all about, isn't it?  Oh, I've heard so much
about it!  I LOVE it!  I love YOU!  You are priceless."

Garak and Dukat looked at one another, then at their unlikely master
with a mixture of disbelief and irritation.

"Oh, don't mind me," Tel sighed when he had calmed down a little.
Then, making annoying, encouraging gestures with his hands, "Please
continue, gentlemen, by all means!"  Then he settled back against the
headboard and absently began to fondle his own ears.  "Delightful," he
muttered to himself.  "Very, VERY nice... hmm... aah... carry on, why
don't you...?"

Dukat stared at the lewd Ferengi with an expression of utter disgust.

Garak's expression, however, brightened.  "Yes!" he whispered. "Why
don't we...?"  And with this he hit the unsuspecting Dukat hard across
the face: "Take that!"

"Are you out of your mind?"  Dukat raised his hand to touch the spot
where Garak had struck him.

"Hardly," sneered Garak, "I should have done that a long time ago."
With a howl of rage Dukat lurched forward and hurled himself on top of
Garak.  "Oh!" Garak called out from underneath the other, his voice
somewhat muffled.  "Oh, this is GREAT, Dukat!  Come on, do it again!"

Dukat growled and slapped Garak's face a couple of times.  "There.  Is
THAT what you want, tailor?"

Garak's face began to hurt badly.  "Take it easy, will you?" he
whispered.  Then he exclaimed: "Dukat!  This is... this is...
INCREDIBLE!"  And in order to prove it, he sank his teeth into Dukat's
arm.  Dukat yelped with pain and swore.

"Marvellous!" Tel howled gleefully.  "You two are marvellous.  I could
put you on display, sell tickets and make profit beyond dreams..."  He
let go of his ear and briefly considered the option, "... but I shall
keep you for my own entertainment.  You are too good to share with
others."

Dukat was over Garak again and planted his knee on Garak's chest.
"And how is that, tailor?  Tell me, is that incredible, too?" In place
of an answer, Garak let out a belligerent roar, grabbed Dukat around
the waist and pulled him along with him as he rolled over.

"Big-headed bully!"

"Tailor!"

"Idiot! --- Do you like that?..."

"Ow! That was... incredible!"

Tel watched the tangle of smoothly-scaled, naked arms, legs and bodies
with growing concern.  The bed shook and squeaked and the little
Ferengi had to hold on to the overstuffed mattress for his dear life.

"Take THAT, Dukat!"  Garak roared with delight as he threw himself
onto Dukat who lost balance and fell backward.

Tel's eyes widened in consternation.  Then his mouth opened to let out
a terrified squeal which was drowned as he was buried underneath
Dukat's heavy body.

The two guards immediately came to their master's rescue, grabbed one
of Dukat's arms each and hauled the Cardassian over to the other end
of the bed.  Then they started fussing over Tel who yelled, "ENOUGH!"
and, recomposing himself after his ordeal, ungraciously waved the
overzealous guards away.  "STOP IT RIGHT NOW, BOYS!"

Garak and Dukat obeyed.

"That will do, thank you!"  A stern frown appeared on Tel's already
wrinkled face.  "Enough of that foreplay-nonsense. I want to see some
PROPER sex.  Get to it now, if you please!"

Garak cowered on his hands and knees, hot from the exercise and
panting heavily.  The exhilaration was still there, he couldn't deny
it.  Fighting Dukat had felt good, and even though it hadn't been
real, it still had FELT real.  As much as he hated to admit it, it had
been - arousing.  And now Dukat, his enemy, the overbearing old fool,
was sitting opposite him, hands laced at crotch level in a vain
attempt to conceal what was obvious.

The air in the room was thick with the sickly-sweet scent of male
pheromones as Tel impatiently repeated, "Didn't you hear what I just
said, boys?  I said: Get to it!"

---

"Who'd have thought that Gul Damar was THAT kind of man?" Shokumi
sighed and deploringly shook her head.  "What a waste!"  She was
sitting on the sofa, her lithe body settled against the luxurious
green plush.  Weyoun was lying on his back, hands laced over his
chest, head resting in Shokumi's lap.

"It's not his fault, my dear," he said.  "You must not judge him too
harshly.  It's in his nature.  You see, ALL Cardassians love
discipline.  That's why they let their military rule them."  He looked
up into her green eyes and smiled slyly.  "And that is why they have
aligned themselves with the Dominion in the first place.  You see,
Shokumi, some races are born to rule while others are born to serve."

"You always say such clever things, Weyoun," Shokumi whispered
adoringly and breathed a kiss on Weyoun's forehead.

"The Founders," Weyoun continued, "were born to rule.  Now tell me,
wouldn't it be better for everyone if they'd just accept and give in
to the Founders' superiority?  Imagine: No more war, no more struggle,
no more..."

"Oh, Weyoun," Shokumi silenced the Vorta with a quick kiss on the
mouth.  "I bet you say that to everyone!"

"At any rate," Weyoun changed the subject, "don't worry your pretty
head about Gul Damar.  I'm sure he's very happy right now..."  He
closed his eyes and shifted on the sofa, picturing his former
tormentor - blindfolded and hands tied together behind his back - on
his knees before the two Nausicaans who laughed and gave their new toy
familiar- sounding orders like, 'Faster!', 'Slower!' or 'Don't you
dare stop!'

Shokumi began to massage Weyoun's neck and shoulders as she said, "I'm
glad to know that Gul Damar is happy, but I'm disappointed
nevertheless.  Such a handsome man!  Tell me, Weyoun, where can I find
an adequate substitute to entertain me tonight?"  Without waiting for
a reply she swooped down for another kiss.  Weyoun wrapped his arms
around her and held her steady as he responded.  When he eventually
let her go she giggled and gasped for air.  "I see my question has
been answered," she purred pleasurably.  "Now beware, my dear Weyoun!
I just MIGHT decide to send Damar and Dukat home and keep you here
with me instead!"

The Vorta's eyes flew wide open.

Shokumi gave a musical laugh. "Relax, Weyoun!" she said as she kissed
him again and ran her fingers through his black hair.  "I was only
joking."

---

Garak tried again, but it was no use.  He couldn't do it.  He couldn't
close his eyes and pretend that the - item - in front of his face
belonged to one Julian Bashir, Starfleet doctor - not unless Julian
Bashir's - item - had suddenly turned gray, grown slightly, and in
addition had sprouted two Cardassian-style ridges all along its not
inconsiderable length.  'Oh well,' Garak decided, 'I've certainly had
to do *this* before, and to partners far less attractive than my
friend Dukat.'

He froze.  Dukat, attractive?  Maybe in the way a gettle was
attractive, just before you slew it and made supper out of it - no,
Dukat was most definitely NOT attractive.  Those piercing blue eyes,
that dimpled smile, that smooth voice - those were all ridiculous,
incongruous attributes for a military man to possess.  Someday, Garak
would have to point that out to him and watch him squirm with
embarrassment.  What fun that would be.  Maybe he'd squirm just as he
was doing now, lying on his side, his face just in front of -

Garak closed his eyes tightly and willed his own body to stop
responding.

Tel, on the other hand, was responding loudly and vocally, fondling
his own ears with joyful abandon, shouting out suggestions to the two
Cardassians who were lying side by side on the bed; the Nausicaan
guards, fascinated by the men's antics but disgusted with Tel's, had
retreated to their chairs.  Garak and Dukat never even noticed.  "Let
me see, let me see!" Tel screeched, scrabbling forward to get a better
look.

With a roar, Dukat reached out and pushed him away, never pausing in
his attentions to Garak's more-than-willing body; every time he
realized with disgust exactly what he was doing, Garak would employ
his lips or his tongue in a way that drove him wild.  Response was
almost automatic.  For too long, he had denied himself the pleasure
another strong Cardassian male could bring to him.  Weyoun thought of
himself as an expert, and in truth, the Vorta was indeed highly
skilled in the art of driving Dukat to a frenzy.  But Weyoun lacked a
complete understanding of exactly what a Cardassian 'required' in that
area, so unique did Dukat consider himself.  Garak, on the other hand,
seemed to know what he needed even before Dukat did - how had he
possibly learned so much?  Was that doctor friend of his really that
demanding?  Dukat had always been under the impression, when he
thought about the matter at all, that the doctor had done all the
servicing in that relationship.  'Well, you learn something new every
day,' he ruefully decided, biting down hard and causing Garak to gasp
and nearly push him away.  Dukat smiled.

---

Weyoun smiled.  Shokumi was beyond compare, it was true, but as the
old human saying went, all good things must come to an end, and it was
time to get out of bed and go see about Dukat.  He gently tapped the
shoulder of the pretty Ferengi sleeping next to him.  She stirred in
her sleep, and he tapped her again, then smiled as she slowly opened
her eyes.

"Weyoun," she mumbled.  "Ready for more so soon?"

"While the prospect is by no means unappealing, I'm afraid I have a
different request.  I would like to meet with your father."

"Why?"  Shokumi sat up, blinking.  "The agreement was between you and
me - my father knows nothing of this."

"Oh come now, my dear," Weyoun smiled.  "I think we both know that
where profits are involved for the Tel family, Daimon Tel has his VERY
large ears to the ground."  He paused - the humans must be getting to
him; he seemed to be a wellspring of Earth sayings lately.

"Perhaps," Shokumi smiled.  "Perhaps I DID plan to let him know.  But
asking for Damar was all MY idea!"  She slipped out of bed and reached
out her hand for Weyoun.

"Obviously, my dear.  It's too bad Damar would prove incapable of
returning your - affection.  But as you say, he's happy now."  He
grinned at the thought of Damar's pleasant evening - perhaps the
Nausicaans had finally grown tired and were lying on top of the poor
man, snoring loudly, in some room somewhere.  "Anyway," he continued,
pulling his trousers on, "I need to assess the situation myself.  I
know your father is also holding a Cardassian named Elim Garak, and I
need to make sure that Garak has not been allowed to injure Dukat or
put him into any sort of danger. He and Garak, you see, have been
nearly life-long enemies."

Shokumi listened with interest; lifelong feuds were always interesting
to a Ferengi, as there was such an opportunity for profit when dealing
with one or both of the parties involved.  But Weyoun was already
heading for the door.

"Now, if you would be so kind as to lead me to your father, Shokumi,
I'd like to meet with him and see how Dukat is faring."

"Father may be asleep at this hour," she said, leading Weyoun into the
corridor.

"I didn't think he *ever* slept," Weyoun chuckled.  "What's the old
saying - 'Profits flee..."

"'... from a sleeping man,'" Shokumi finished for him.  "Yes, I
suppose we can at least go check on him.  What are you going to say to
him, may I ask?  Remember, he knows nothing of our deal yet."

"I'm going to request the opportunity to inspect his warehouses - the
Dominion has certain accounting and procedural standards that we
demand of our allies' business holdings - and the Nausicaans have a
treaty with us, which Tel will be obliged to honor."

"I hope he sees it that way," Shokumi giggled, wrapping her arm around
Weyoun's waist and kissing his ear.  He pretended to respond, but his
mind was in a whirl - suppose he found Garak holding both Dukat and
Tel hostage?  The spy-turned-tailor was far too dangerous for such an
outcome to be outside the realm of possibility.  What if Dukat and
Garak were at each other's throats, locked in some sort of life-and-
death struggle, Tel looking on helplessly?  What if, even now, Dukat's
hatred of Garak had caused the former spy to go into a rage and
somehow gain control of a weapon?  Weyoun only hoped he'd be able to
act quickly, when those doors opened and he came face-to-face with the
situation within.  He hoped his reflexes would be fast enough to
handle whatever he discovered, and he hoped Shokumi would understand
his commands if it turned out that the tailor needed to be killed.
His heart pounded as the two neared Tel's quarters.

Shokumi paused,  her hand poised above the signal.  "I hear something
inside -"  She listened for a moment.  "That's father! He just told
someone to - to -"  She listened again.  "I think he just said, 'Have
some pity on a poor starving man.'"

"Oh NO!" Weyoun exclaimed.  "It's worse than I thought - they may be
holding him hostage - perhaps Garak is holding them ALL hostage."

Shokumi, alarmed, rapidly keyed in a lock sequence and the door slid
open.  All Weyoun could see at first were the backs of two Nausicaan
guards, sitting perched forward on their chairs, at rapt attention.
He crept a little further into the room, Shokumi at his heel, toward
the sound of panting and struggling that was coming from a large bed
in the center of the room.  As his eyes adjusted to the near-darkness,
he saw Tel kneeling at the edge of the mattress, two naked Cardassians
locked in a sort of deathly embrace in the center.  Dukat?  And Garak?
Just what WERE they doing?  Weyoun crept closer to see.  "Oh my - how
very... interesting," he faltered, as Tel finally looked up and
noticed him.

---


Neither Cardassian noticed the new arrival, so engrossed were they in
their doings.  Somewhere in the back of Dukat's mind, there were
voices, but they meant nothing, not now.  All that mattered now were
Garak's ministrations which were withheld whenever Dukat conveniently
forgot about his own task - withheld for as long as a second or two
which seemed like an eternity to him.  The day would come, Dukat
decided, when Garak would be his slave and his skills would be
available to him any time, and wouldn't have to be returned, and that
thought finally pushed him over the edge and into ecstasy.  Garak in
turn closed his eyes and imagined Dukat's expression at that moment -
a mixture of anger, embarrassment and pure lust - and, with one final
thrust he let go.  He smiled triumphantly over Dukat's - item, and
listened to Dukat gag and then let out a furious growl.

Dukat pulled away and wiped his lips on his arm.

"... Now look what you made me do, Weyoun: You made me miss the best
bit!"  Tel's petulant voice came from across the room.  That
voyeuristic, deformed monster!  Then the meaning of the words sank in:
Weyoun?  What...?

Still slightly off-balance, Dukat pulled himself up to a sitting
position.  Garak did the same.  Both Cardassians were instantly
sobered by the sight of Weyoun and a young, rather attractive Ferengi
girl.  The girl, Garak noted, was looking them over with hungry green
eyes; of course this was the wrong time to be thinking of female
companionship, and so he exclaimed, "Ambassador Weyoun!  What a
pleasant surprise!  No doubt you have come to clear up this
unfortunate misunderstanding and take your Cardassian allies back
home!"

Weyoun stepped closer until there was barely a couple of meters of
space between himself and the Cardassians.  "We'll see," he chuckled
and a cruel smile flew over his lips.  His eyes were fixed on Dukat.
The tailor-turned-spy was nothing to him.  Weyoun was savouring the
spectacle of Dukat's vulnerability.  Then, when he'd seen enough, he
turned to Tel who had meanwhile reluctantly gotten off the bed and now
was standing next to him.  "I am so sorry," he apologised. "I didn't
mean to spoil your - enjoyment."

"But you did, Weyoun!"  The Ferengi's shrill voice sounded decidedly
cranky.  "You really did!  I'll have to wait until they're ready to
perform again!  And now you're telling me you want to see my
warehouses.  Well, Weyoun, I'm asking you:  Is all this really
necessary?"

Weyoun spread his arms apologetically as he said, "I'm afraid so, Tel.
I would have chosen a more appropriate time, of course, and would have
notified you of my impending arrival but as you know, I am just a
lowly servant of the Founders and have very little say in matters like
this."

Somewhat placated by the Vorta's reasoning and soothing voice the
Ferengi sighed and nodded.  "Very well," he conceded, albeit a little
grudgingly.  "Let's get it over with."

"A very reasonable attitude, if I may say so," Weyoun chimed in.  "I
am sure you have nothing to worry about, and the sooner we get
started, the sooner we'll be back."

"I certainly hope so," said Tel with a regretful glance at the two
Cardassians.  He clapped his hands.  The Nausicaans perked up.  "You
two," Tel commanded, "are going to watch Garak and Dukat.  Make sure
they don't try any monkey business."

The Nausicaans nodded.  "Yes sir."

Shokumi writhed past them and sat down on the edge of the bed.  "I can
watch them, father!" she offered innocently.

Tel raised his arms in desperation.  "What am I going to do with you,
Shokumi?" he asked theatrically.  "Sex and profit.  Sex and profit.
Aren't you interested in anything besides sex and profit?  You are
such a tomboy!"

The scolded girl coyly lowered her eyes - but only to turn her head a
little and give Garak a suggestive look over her shoulder.  Garak,
before he knew it, responded with a smile.

"I admit," purred Weyoun, "that I was rather concerned I'd find Gul
Dukat injured after a serious fight with Garak."  He smiled viciously.
"However, it seems he and Garak have - bonded nicely."  He laughed,
melodiously, standing tantalisingly close to the bed but at the same
time careful to remain just out of Dukat's arm's reach.

Dukat's heart was racing with anger and hatred.  All he wanted to do
was hurl himself at the little Vorta and snap his neck - an action
which, he knew only too well, would have earned him his instant
execution.  And so all he could do was put as much space as possible
between himself and Garak and barricade himself behind a couple of
velvety, overstuffed pillows in an attempt to hide as much of his
naked body as possible.  What he couldn't hide of course was the tell-
tale stickiness in his hair and on his face.  Sure enough Weyoun
turned to the girl and said, "Shokumi, my dear, perhaps you can
persuade Dukat to clean himself up a little while we're gone...?"

Shokumi laughed out loud and nodded.  She would do better than that,
she thought to herself, she would clean up that delicious, angry man
herself and make him smile again.

"Let's go, Weyoun."  The Ferengi, having seen the look on his
daughter's face resigned and turned round, waving for Weyoun to follow
him.

"Of course."  The Vorta was at his side with a couple of strides and
put an arm around Tel's shoulder.  "There are plenty of things we have
to discuss, and I'm afraid that one of them is the fate of Gul
Dukat..."

"... and that of Elim Garak!" they heard Garak's voice calling after
them as they left the room.

---

"What do you mean, I shall have to let them go?"  Tel was evidently
not pleased as he shuffled along the endless corridors in the
direction of the work-halls.  "Is there a law against slavery in
Nausicaan space all of a sudden, is there, hm?"

"Absolutely not," Weyoun reassured him.

"Good."  The old man jutted his jaw forward in defiance.  "That's
settled then."

"But, Tel!"  Weyoun sauntered alongside Tel, trying to establish eye
contact.  "He is the head of the Cardassian government!  You can't
expect the Cardassians to sit back and watch as you abduct their
military leader to - use him as your -  oo-mox boy -"

"Oh, bother the Cardassians!"  Tel exclaimed with a wave of his hand.
"They can find themselves a new leader, can't they?  *I* found Dukat
and that Garak fellow, and now they are mine."  He hesitated, then
conspiratorially lowered his voice.  "It's those pheromones, you
know!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Male Cardassian pheromones," Tel repeated.  "Absolutely irresistible.
There is no substitute."

Weyoun cocked his head curiously.  "There - isn't?"

"Didn't you notice when you were in the room with them?"  Tel wanted
to know.

"No," Weyoun said with rare honesty.  "Thankfully I'm quite immune to
intoxicating substances of any kind."

Tel chuckled.  "I'm sure that, in your job, that comes in handy
sometimes."

"Well."  Weyoun acknowledged the weak attempt at a joke with a sugary
smile.  "Why don't we visit the work-halls first, and talk about Dukat
and his friend later?"

---

"You know, boys," Shokumi giggled happily, "you're even cuter than I
was expecting."

Garak and Dukat, both sitting uncomfortably on different portions of
the bed, both uncertain about whether they were even allowed to climb
down from it and retrieve their clothing, shifted worriedly.  The
Nausicaan guards leered at them and moved closer.

"But I think Father's right.  I think you boys need to - refresh
yourselves - a little.  And I'm going to help."  She rose and
stood next to Garak, placing a feathery-light hand on his scaled
shoulder.  Garak, both intrigued and repulsed at the sensation, tried
desperately not to flinch.

"Guards, bring them to my quarters, please."

"But, Mistress -"

"I said, bring them along to my quarters.  Don't worry, I'll leave
Father a message telling where they've gone."  She turned and strode
quickly to the door, where she waited expectantly.  The guards grabbed
Garak and Dukat by the arms and pulled them to their feet, then
instructed them to walk with their hands laced behind their heads.
Nothing could have been more calculated to infuriate and embarrass the
Cardassians, who nevertheless, at the first smack of a lash across
their behinds, reluctantly complied.  The motley group shuffled down
the corridor, Shokumi in the lead, Garak and Dukat tiredly following
her with the two Nausicaans happily commenting on them and laughing as
they brought up the rear.

"I don't think I can take much more of this," Dukat growled in
Kardasi.

"Ah.  I quite agree.  So tell me, Gul, what are your plans?"

"My 'plans,' tailor, are to free myself from this revolting
establishment and return with the full might of the Cardassian
military at my disposal.  Then we'll vaporize Tel, his warehouses, his
guards, his insufferable little daughter..."

"Aren't you being a little harsh?  These people have done nothing to
seriously harm us - if anything, they've managed to provide you with a
very pleasant evening at my expense."

"The evening was not so very 'pleasant,' tailor," Dukat scowled.

"Well, if you say so.  However, I happen to believe otherwise - I
believe that the experience of finally being allowed to demonstrate
exactly what you feel for me was -"

Dukat, with an exclamation of rage, reached for Garak's throat, but
the guards were upon him in an instant and twisted his arms behind his
head again.

Shokumi turned and regarded him impatiently.  "Please, Mr. Dukat -
wait till you're in the bath before you start the foreplay.  My
goodness, you Cardassians really ARE insatiable!"  She giggled and
began to walk a little faster.

Garak, after a few moments had passed, whispered, "Yes, please
restrain yourself, Dukat - I'm not going anywhere."

"You're right, tailor.  I'll make sure you're stuck here with Tel when
my forces arrive."

"I think Weyoun might have something to say about that -"  He stopped.
They had reached Shokumi's quarters.

---

Weyoun was in a haze of anticipation, only half listening to Tel's
egomaniacal ramblings about the size and efficiency of his warehouses.
Any minute now, he was sure to catch some glimpse of the unfortunate
Gul Damar, and he had no doubt the reunion would be deeply satisfying.
One entire night entertaining two Nausicaans would probably keep Damar
intimidated for weeks; that, however, was assuming that Weyoun could
manage to find a way to take Damar back with him at all.  He smiled at
Tel and nodded his head in agreement with some statement of the old
Ferengi's, then waited with deceptive patience for the enormous door
of Warehouse One to slide open.  Two Nausicaans saluted them within.

"Sir - the Cardassians are sleeping - they worked very hard yesterday,
and in return, we're allowing them five hours of sleep instead of the
usual four."

"Welllll, I suppose that's all right," Tel grudgingly replied.  "But
see to it that they work all the harder today."

"Yes, sir."

"Then again..."  He paused a moment in thought.  "The two Cardassians
who were entertaining me are undoubtedly exhausted right now - I'll
have to let them sleep today, more's the pity.  But I was so hoping
for a little more fun before Weyoun has to depart...  Tell you what,
fellows."  He brightened.  "Wake the two sleeping beauties here and
bring them to my daughter's quarters - she has a very large bathtub
and you can put them both in at the same time."

"Yes sir."

"And tell the guard in Warehouse Two to bring the other one.  I've
always wanted to watch a threesome - it's my lucky number."

"Yes sir."

"When they're cleaned up, I want them in my quarters."

"Yes sir."

"You won't believe your eyes,"  Tel giggled happily to Weyoun.
"Insults, arguments, scales flaring, ridges darkening - and oh, the
sex afterward!  What fun!"

"Yes - what fun," Weyoun amiably agreed.  "I can't wait to see it."
And he couldn't wait to see Damar, but Tel obviously knew nothing of
any sixth Cardassian on his station.  Perhaps it was just as well - it
was going to prove difficult enough to get Tel to agree to let the
other five go.  Difficult?  It seemed that it would prove impossible.
Weyoun sighed heavily as the warehouse tour commenced.  All his
negotiating skills would be of little use if the lascivious old
Ferengi continued his love affair with his new Cardassian slaves.  The
Vorta had never encountered such a situation - he might even be forced
to leave without them and return with a more powerful ship - yet such
a display of force would greatly endanger the lives of the Cardassians
he was bound to save... It was a difficult problem.

---

"Stop being so difficult, Cardassian," the Nausicaan laughed.  "You
know you like this - we were told you did.  Now stand still and let me
soap you up."  Damar ceased struggling, not because of the guard's
words but because of the phaser his partner had pointed at his head.
He was standing waist deep in a pool of very warm water, the Nausicaan
who had spoken crouched at the edge of the tub, running his lather-
covered, huge hands over Damar's chest and shoulders.  "My friend gets
to soap up the best bits, though," the Nausicaan grumbled.  "That's
what I get for almost letting you escape."  Damar winced as the guard
grasped his shoulder and spun him around.  "But you won't escape from
us now, will you, lover?"

Damar shook his head.  Bound hand and foot, he could barely even hop,
much less climb out of the slippery bathtub.

"Good.  Now stand still, I told you."

Damar stood still, then stared with amazement at the doorway - Shokumi
had returned and giggled with pleasure at the sight that greeted her.

"Oh, look!  Damar, the cutie!"  She ran to the edge of the tub; the
guards withdrew deferentially.  "You're back!  Did you enjoy yourself
last night?"

Damar, having no answer to that question, simply stared at her.

"Weyoun told me you loved being overpowered and forced to submit.  I
hope my guards were sufficiently, um, overpowering."  She giggled
again and stroked the Cardassian's shoulder, as he conjured up
mental images of Weyoun, blindfolded and standing against the
precipice of a very high and very deadly cliff - and all Damar would
have to do was push lightly with one finger...

"Well, you're going to have some company, cutie," she smiled.  "Two
friends of yours, I think.  They need a bath too.  Maybe the three of
you could - soap each other up."  The Nausicaan who had not yet
received his turn sighed in irritation.  "Guards, untie him.  And
bring in Garak and Dukat."

Damar nearly jumped out of the bath.  Dukat, his commanding officer,
the man he most wanted to impress, seeing him in this state - and
Garak, that despicable, mocking tailor, being allowed to witness his
humiliation as well...

The two Cardassians were roughly forced into the room and then pushed
into the tub, where they landed with a great splash of hot water.
Damar, his arms untied, leaned down to untie his ankles, and thus
didn't notice the arrival, at gunpoint, of three other Cardassians;
they were likewise unceremoniously pushed into the water, to the
joyful laughter of Shokumi and the grunts of the guards.

"Oh, this is magnificent!  Father would LOVE this!  You look like -
like - like an aquarium!  Filled with lizards!  Gorgeous, naked
lizards!"  She ran for the comm system mounted on the wall, as the
Cardassians, surrounded by five heavily armed Nausicaans, stood and
regarded her with shock.  No one moved.

"Father," Shokumi breathlessly told him, "I want you to come to my
quarters.  I think there's something you should see."  She cut the
connection and ran back to the bathtub.  "Now, Father will be here in
a few moments - I want you all to be enjoying yourselves when he
arrives.  You know - shouting, arguing, having passionate sex, that
sort of thing."  The Cardassians looked at each other blankly.  "Come
ON - do something! Guards, spray some cold water on them."

That worked - the Cardassians, who hated the cold, began twisting and
squirming to avoid the sprays aimed at them by the maniacally grinning
Nausicaans, in the process bumping into each other and exchanging
angry words.  Shokumi lay down on the floor at the edge of the tub,
rested her chin on her folded arms, and watched the scene, enraptured.
So raucous and confused had the situation become that no one noticed a
gnarled figure enter the room, followed by a blue-eyed, amazed Vorta.

"It's - it's - it's the most incredible sight -" Tel faltered, barely
able to breathe.  "All those Cardassians - scales - glistening -
bodies - rubbing - anger - raging - it's - it's -"  His eyes glazed
over and he fell to the ground, landing with a thud against one of the
guards.

"Father!"  Shokumi screamed, turning and seeing him for the first
time.  "FATHER!"  She leapt to her feet and ran to his side, calling
out "Get a doctor!" as she did so.  Weyoun was frozen in place.  "I
said, call a doctor!  On my comm system!  It's Father!  He's had a
heart attack!!!"

The commotion stopped.

The sprays were turned off.

Six naked Cardassians and five armed Nausicaans stood perfectly still
and watched incredulously as Shokumi went down on her knees at the old
Ferengi's side, while Weyoun spoke into the comm unit.

"Yes, a doctor. - Yes, in Miss Shokumi's quarters. - What?! - No, I am
NOT paying for his treatment! - What happened?  To be frank, I don't
know what happened, but it looks like Daimon Tel suffered a heart
attack while observing half a dozen Cardassians bathing... - Yes, I
said Cardassians!  Yes, bathing! Look, why don't you just send the
doctor? - That's very kind.  Thank you."

"You have to hang on, Daddy! Please!"  Shokumi tearfully pleaded,
cradling her father in her arms.  The old man was barely conscious and
kept mechanically repeating his words.

"Scales... glistening... ridges... darkening... oh, what a beautiful
sight!"  He smiled, blissfully, while his mind was drifting away,
leaving his old, useless body behind.

"Don't go, daddy!"  Tears fell from Shokumi's emerald eyes.
"Remember, there is no profit to be made in death!"

His daughter's words brought Tel back to life once more:  His eyes
flew open and he sat bolt upright.  "Beware!" he called out in an
eerie voice, wagging his finger in the general direction of the
others.  "Cardassians! Pheromones!" Then, completely exhausted from
the exertion, he sank back in Shokumi's arms.  "Scales... glistening,"
he babbled happily.  "Oh! Oh what a glorious sight!"  He gave a final,
blissful sigh, then shut his eyes and passed away.

"Daddy!" Shokumi cried.  "Daddy, please! Profit is for the living!"

No tears and no wise words could bring her father back from the dead,
and when the doctor - a tiny, highly-strung man with ridiculously
small lobes - arrived only moments later, all he could do was confirm
that Daimon Tel had indeed died of a heart attack.  He added that the
old man had had a weak heart for several years and had been warned on
many occasions not to place lust before latinum; Tel however had
chosen  to ignore perfectly good expensive advice and had now suffered
the inevitable consequences.

Looking inappropriately pleased that justice had been served, the
unsympathetic doctor gave orders for the body to be beamed to the only
medical center on Raylos 4 where it would be kept in stasis until
arrangements could be made to have it moved back to Ferenginar.  With
that he beamed out without even expressing his commiseration.

"What a perfectly insufferable man!" Weyoun declared, holding the
bereaved in his arms and trying his best to comfort her.

"He probably doesn't get enough oo-mox," Shokumi sobbed against his
shoulder.  "Did you see his ears? They are so - deformed!  So -
small!"  She shuddered involuntarily and began crying again.  Weyoun
shrugged and gently patted Shokumi's back.

"I'm not going to listen to that perverted talk about ears any
longer," Dukat quietly announced in Kardasi.  "I have seen and heard
enough of Ferengi ears to last me a lifetime."

"That may be so," Garak agreed, "but what, my dear Gul, are you going
to do about it?"

"Don't you see?  Tel is dead.  This is the perfect time for us to go
home and put this whole insane episode behind us."  And with the clear
intention to do just that, Dukat moved toward the end of the pool,
reached for the rim and pulled himself up.  "But if you prefer to stay
here and discuss oo-mox with Miss Shokumi - that's your prerogative."
The other soldiers, wet, cold and soapy as they were, followed their
leader's example and set out to do the same.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Shokumi inquired - and five
Nausicaans pointed their weapons at the Cardassians.  "Get back in
there at once!"

"Shokumi -" Dukat felt the tip of a disruptor pressing against the
back of his neck and started over, "Mistress. Please be reasonable.  I
am the military leader of the Cardassian Union. These men -"  He made
a sweeping gesture with his arm, flinging water at the miserable-
looking soldiers, " - are my highest ranking officers.  You have to
let us go.  If you don't let us go, a fleet of Cardassian warships and
Jem'Hadar fighters will come and demand our release.  Don't delude
yourself into thinking that you might get away with your scheme.  I am
telling you, release us now, Shokumi, or you will be sorry later!"

The inevitable blow of a leather strap came down on Dukat's wet skin,
but he didn't falter.

"Oh my," gasped Shokumi, "aren't you arrogant!  You're SO cute when
you're like that!  In fact you're every bit as cute as your friend,
Gul Damar.  But tell me first, my sweet, you don't by any chance enjoy
being overpowered and made to - do - certain things - by other men, do
you?"

Weyoun bit his lip and looked the other direction.  Two of the guards
laughed out loud and nudged each other with their elbows.  Damar froze
and turned a purple shade of grey, wishing desperately he were
somewhere else, in battle, if necessary, ANYwhere but here, being
discussed in connection with the overpowering Nausicaans in front of
Gul Dukat.  Dukat's mouth hung open for a couple of seconds.  When he
eventually could speak again he said a single word:

"WHAT?!"

"I take it you don't," beamed Shokumi.  "That's good. I'm so glad you
don't share Gul Damar's - predilections."

There were several audible gasps, followed by uneasy laughter.
Damar's Nausicaan tormentors laughed the loudest.  Damar stood with
his head lowered and his eyes cast to the ground and therefore
couldn't see the bemused look that his commanding officer shot him -
he was, at that point, almost beyond caring.  Nevertheless, he was
rather grateful to Shokumi when she clapped her hands and called,
"Quiet!  How DARE you laugh at a time like this?" She paused to cry
another tear.  "It seems none of you has any sense of decency.  How
unfortunate. - Weyoun!"

"Yes, Shokumi."

"I'm confused.  I shall have to think about all this.  Besides, I
shall have to make the necessary arrangements to have my father taken
to Ferenginar where his body will be prepared for desiccation."

"May he continue to make great profit even in death."

"Oh, Weyoun," sighed Shokumi, tears glittering in her emerald eyes.
"That was beautiful!"

Weyoun inclined his head a little.  "Thank you.  But now, Shokumi, it
is time to say goodbye.  You have business to attend to, and so do
we.  Therefore, I'm asking you again: Please, let those Cardassians
go!"  He gave Dukat an encouraging look out of the corner of his eye.

Somewhat reluctantly, Dukat said, "Let us go, please."  The words came
a lot easier from his lips than he had expected and he continued, "I
am appealing to your generosity -"

Five disruptors were pointed at Dukat from all angles; Shokumi's eyes
widened in disbelief and she let out a sudden, high-pitched squeal.

Garak, who was standing close behind him, hissed, "How could you?" -

And Dukat realised that he had made a mistake.

"My GENEROSITY!" Shokumi repeated fretfully.  "Very well, Mr. Dukat, I
will show you and your friends 'generosity'.  Since YOU are to blame
for my poor father's death -"

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Dukat flared up -
and the strap came down on his back once again.

"Quiet!" Shokumi demanded.  "According to Ferengi law, work slaves and
personal slaves are to take blame for EVERYTHING."  She sighed and
nervously touched her lobes.  Quite evidently, the stress was
beginning to take its toll on her.  "I don't know yet what I'm going
to do with you, but for the time being you will have to remain here on
Raylos 4. - Guards, take them to a holding cell!"

"But Shokumi...!"

"No 'buts', Weyoun, or I'll have you put into the holding cell with
them."

One glance at Damar was enough to make the Vorta decide that this was
not a desirable option.  And so, once again, the Cardassians were
motioned to a different part of the building.

Six naked, still slightly damp Cardassian males walked - their hands
laced behind their heads and their feet making smacking sounds on the
floor - along endless corridors as they were being followed by five
heavily armed Nausicaan guards.  The little circus parade was led by
Shokumi and Weyoun.

---

"She would have let us go, you know!  If you had been a little more
diplomatic and had refrained from appealing to her 'generosity',  we
would already be on our way home.  'Generosity', hm?  She is a
FERENGI, for Gul's sake! What were you thinking?"

"Be quiet, tailor!" hissed Dukat, shifting in an attempt to put some
space between himself and Garak.  They all had been given back their
overalls and were now sitting, huddled together, on the single
uncomfortable plank bench in a tiny holding cell, awaiting Shokumi's
decision.  All except for Damar who was unusually quiet and remote
even by his standards and who was given a wide berth by his comrades.

"Ah, but I would have expected a little more tact and diplomacy from
the leader of the Cardassian Union!"  Garak was not so easily
silenced.  "But then, I guess that's why you let Weyoun do all the
talking and negotiating these days.  You never had much talent for
politics, you might just as well admit it -"

Dukat was just about to retort when suddenly the door slid open and
Weyoun slipped inside.  The Vorta looked even paler than usual and
there was a look of genuine worry in his midnight blue eyes as he
said, "There has been an unexpected problem, gentlemen. Miss Shokumi
has just received a communication from the medical center.  The news
is not good, I'm afraid.  It appears that her father, Daimon Tel was -
murdered."

"MURDERED?!" Garak and Dukat both chorused, frozen with shock.

"Yes, murdered," Weyoun sadly nodded.  "According to the doctor -"

"According to the DOCTOR, Tel died of a heart attack!  Right in front
of us!  We were nowhere near him - we couldn't touch him, we couldn't
even leave that damned BATHTUB -"

"Yes, yes, that is all very true," Weyoun agreed.  "No one is
suggesting Tel was murdered by physical force.  But you see, an
interesting little fact has turned up in the autopsy.  Tel had been
taking daily doses of a Ferengi drug known as tibtum, for his heart
condition.  In fact, I saw him inject himself with it just before our
warehouse tour."

"So he was obviously not poisoned," Dukat growled.

"Wait."  Weyoun held up his hand.  "Tibtum, when given in a strong
enough dosage, reacts violently with Cardassian pheromones, leading to
cardiac arrest and eventually, death."  He paused to let his words
sink in.  "And it so happens that the vial of tibtum Tel had procured
contained a double dosage.  That, combined with the overpowering
pheromones emitted by not two, not four, but SIX virile Cardassian
males, all arguing, all in close proximity -"

"THAT'S INSANE!" Dukat thundered.  "We had nothing to DO with that - I
had never even HEARD of such a condition!  Tibtum!  We weren't even
allowed to touch the Ferengi's EARS without armed guards watching us,
much less gain access to his medicine.  And as for being expected to
know the effect of our PHEROMONES..."

"Please, gentlemen, I didn't say you DID," Weyoun soothed them; the
other Cardassians had risen from the bench and were watching him,
horrified.  "In fact, I'm just as much of a suspect as you are - I was
alone with Tel during his final waking moments."

"Then why aren't you in here with US?" Garak demanded.

"Because I've so far been able to invoke the Dominion's treaty with
the Nausicaans to make sure I receive protection from their arbitrary
laws.  And I've been able to do the same for you, I might add.
Shokumi wanted several of you sold into slavery as examples to the
others, to get you to confess."  The Cardassians gulped.  "Now, I need
to know a few things from you, so I can start piecing together this
puzzle.  Please try to cooperate with me.  And sit down - you look
threatening to the guards outside."  The Cardassians sat.  "First -
did ANY of you see any suspicious activity on the part of any of the
guards while you were with Tel?  He kept the vials of medicine in his
safe - did ANY of you see a guard near the safe?"

Garak shook his head, reflecting, however, that his view had been
blocked either by Dukat or Dukat's - item - for a good portion of the
evening.  Dukat, evidently entertaining similar thoughts, said, "We
were BUSY, Weyoun - we were being forced to - work - for that wrinkled
little bastard.  I have no idea what the guards could have been doing
all that time.  And in any case, who says they had to tamper with the
medicine right there in his presence?"

"True, very true," Weyoun sighed.  "Anyone with access to his safe
could also gain access to the - what was it called again?"

"Tibtum."

"- to the tibtum at any time.  And who would have access to his safe?"

"Well, Shokumi, certainly," Garak stated.  "In fact, I can't imagine
Tel entrusting anyone else BUT Shokumi with the combination."

"His own daughter?"  Weyoun smiled regretfully.  "I know that murder
by family members is by no means uncommon even on Ferenginar, but it's
far too unlikely, when you consider the motives that you and even some
of the GUARDS may have had to kill Tel.  He had, I just learned,
forced one of the Nausicaans into slavery.  The consensus seems to be
growing that this guard, in collusion with at least some of you -"

"WAIT!" Garak shouted.  "That overseer has not even had one second of
contact with us since Dukat attacked him - are you seriously implying
that, while we were in plain sight of Tel every second last night, we
somehow managed to contact this Nausicaan and arrange Tel's death?"

"No, I'm not implying that - the authorities are implying that.  They
feel your attempts to - pleasure each other - last night, in full view
of Tel, were a calculated scheme to ensure that the level of
pheromones in the room was dramatically increased -"

"HE ORDERED US TO DO THAT!" Dukat nearly screamed, ignoring the
shocked glances from his men, as well as Damar's sudden brightening.
"He had guards training their WEAPONS on us, til we 'performed'!"

"Naturally the guards would cooperate with your scheme," Weyoun mused,
as Dukat, with a roar, launched himself at the Vorta and was only
stopped when Garak grabbed hold of his arms.  "But I'm not saying I
believe this story!  I KNOW you're innocent, all of you!  I'm simply
telling you what the Nausicaan investigators will most likely tell you
as well."  He began to pace, making sure to stay clear of Dukat and
Damar as he did so. "Now - think.  Can you recall ANYTHING, anything
out of the ordinary, anything that might lead us to discover the true
perpetrator of the crime?"

"Shokumi called her father on the comm system," one of Dukat's men
timidly offered.

"Yes, of course," Weyoun impatiently answered.  "I was with him when
he received the call.  What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well," the man went on, glancing for approval to Dukat, "you said
pheromones, in combination with that drug, led to Tel's death.  There
were six of us in the tub, sir.  They were spraying cold water on us
to get us to struggle - and, well, when a Cardassian struggles..."

"Yes, yes," Weyoun cut him off.  "Shokumi was well aware her father
had a certain fondness for Cardassian males.  That's not a crime."

"But she's the one who had them spray the water!" Dukat suddenly
exclaimed.  "And she's the one who ran to the comm system to call Tel!
And she's the one who told us she wanted us fighting and arguing and
having sex when Tel walked in!"  He stopped, embarrassed at his words,
but Weyoun had already begun to speak.

"So let me make sure I understand you - Shokumi called Tel BEFORE
giving these commands?"  Several of the Cardassians nodded.  "And she
knew, I'm sure, that Tel always took his dose of tibtum in the morning
- she most likely knew the drug would be strong in his system when she
placed that call."

Dukat slithered up to Weyoun and said, low and ominously, "I think
we've been framed."

"I think so too.  But our position here has now, if so, become a
hundred times more precarious.  Shokumi will be willing to do anything
to cast blame off of herself and onto you.  I will have to defuse the
situation and get us off of this moon without appearing to know
anything at all -"

"But if she's GUILTY, surely the Nausicaans want to know that!" Garak
cried.  "They have a treaty with you - surely they'll listen to you!"

"But they have had a much longer relationship with the Ferengi, and
the Tel family in particular.  Who would YOU trust?"  He shook his
head.  "No, it's going to be difficult, very difficult.  I'm going to
go and meet with Shokumi.  You gentlemen just remain calm, don't
provoke the guards, and wait for me."  He signalled to a guard and the
door was opened for him.

Garak and Dukat reluctantly sat back down and stared at the entrance
to the cell.  The guard's footsteps echoed down the corridor, as he
escorted Weyoun to the exit.  Then two sets of footsteps purposefully
made their way back.  Garak, with trepidation, saw two Nausicaans
peering happily in at the group of Cardassians.

"You boys comfortable?" one of them grinned.  No one answered.
"Listen, I have a deal for you.  My friend here says he heard that
some of you like to play a little game."  Damar, terrified, looked up.
"And we were watching you two last night - you were like a couple of
Nausicaan love beetles."  His gaze settled on Garak - and Dukat. "Want
to come out and play Cardassian hostage with us?"

"No thank you," Garak pleasantly answered.  Damar had begun breathing
a little faster; Dukat was beyond speech.  With a shriek, the door to
the cell was slid open and two sets of powerful Nausicaan arms hauled
Garak and Dukat to their feet.

"We really would like it if you'd change your mind," the guard sneered
to Garak.  "Otherwise - who knows?  We might have to accidentally snap
your Cardassian neck."

"Ah, well, in that case - yes, I'd like to play."  He grimaced, then
winced as he heard a meaty fist connect with the struggling Dukat's
jaw.  The Cardassians were dragged into the corridor and the door
slammed shut behind them.

---

It wasn't going to be an easy task, but he was going to take those
Cardassians home.  Any failure to do so would inevitably lead to his
own demotion and the introduction of Weyoun 5, and that was something
the Vorta didn't enjoy contemplating.  Being forced to play little sex
games with two domineering Cardassian bullies like Dukat and Damar,
degrading and unpleasant as it was, was nothing compared to the
horrors of having to justify himself before his creators.  IF, on the
other hand, he was able to save the Cardassians, they would treat him
with more respect in the future, if only to ensure his silence and
discretion in regard to their own experiences - Dukat's somewhat
reluctant intimate encounter with Garak and Damar's rough games with
the Nausicaans - and wouldn't dare touch him against his will for a
long time, if ever again.

The stakes were high, and he would have to play carefully,  Weyoun
decided as - hands laced behind his back - he walked along the
corridors until he once again came to a halt in front of Shokumi Tel's
private quarters.  The only trouble was that he really didn't like
this particular game.  If Shokumi was really guilty of murdering her
father - and all clues pointed to her - he would have to prove it.
And then, Shokumi, who was so fond of her father's slaves, would in
all likelihood be sold into slavery herself; after all, that was the
fate that awaited murderers on Ferenginar where capital punishment had
been abolished a millennium ago because, like imprisonment, it had
been considered a waste of precious free labour.  Weyoun found the
thought strangely unpleasant and, analysing this feeling of
unpleasantness, arrived at the conclusion that he had foolishly
allowed himself to -'like' the young girl.  How unfortunate.  For him.
He hit the comm button and the channel opened.

"...and I would do it again, child, if I had to!" came a vaguely
familiar female voice from inside before Shokumi could interrupt and
say, "Yes? Who is it?"

The Vorta thoughtfully cocked his head.  He hardly ever forgot a
voice, and this one belonged, unless he was mistaken, to Sho Tel, wife
of the late Daimon Tel and Shokumi's mother.  How very interesting!
"It's only me," he softly spoke into the comm unit.  "Weyoun.  Always
at your service."

"Come in, my dear," chimed Shokumi.  The door slid open and Weyoun
stepped inside without hesitating, to find Shokumi sitting on the same
sofa where only a few hours ago they had made love.  Next to her,
hands folded in her lap, sat Sho whose eyes - as blue and as cool as
his own - lit up in recognition.

"Weyoun, my dearest!" she exclaimed and spread her arms invitingly.

Weyoun bowed politely and smiled and took a seat in one of the plush
arm chairs.  "I would love to tell you how good it is to see you
again, Sho - if it wasn't for the tragic circumstances," he purred.
"My condolences.  May your husband..."

"...continue to make profit in death.  That is so sweet of you, my
dear.  Thank you. - Shokumi, child, could you please pass me a
tissue?"  Shokumi complied without a word, and Sho pressed the tissue
against her eyes and very ceremoniously dried a single tiny tear. "As
you can see, Weyoun, I am devastated," she said.

"Yes," said Weyoun.  "Yes, I can see that."

"Of course," Sho continued, "those nasty, scaly Cardassians are to
blame.  I can't remember how often I begged my husband to stay away
from those monsters, but to no avail.  He was absolutely enraptured
with them.  Especially with the males.  I never understood what he saw
in those hideous creatures. - Did you know, Weyoun, that male
Cardassians are actually POISONOUS?"

"Well, it's not quite like that, mummy," Shokumi reproachfully said.
"Gul Dukat, Gul Damar, and Gul Dukat's sweetheart, the handsome tailor
whose name I keep forgetting - they are all very nice, charming men.
And they are by no means 'poisonous.'  It's not their fault that they
keep emitting those pheromones when they get - excited."

"Ah, but you see, they KNEW that their pheri- pherem-"

"It's 'pheromones', mummy. And you KNOW it!"

"I do not.  I am a FEMALE, how would I know about such things?  And
you, child, shouldn't know about them, either.  Anyway, the
Cardassians knew very well what those - things - would do to my
darling husband.  He must have told them about the tibtum that he was
taking -"

"When I questioned them, none of them even knew that a substance named
tibtum exists, much less what it is used for and what other chemicals
it reacts with!" Weyoun countered - and got a reproachful look for it:

"Weyoun, don't you know that faking ignorance is the oldest trick in
the book?"

---

Cardassian Hostage was by no means an entertaining game, not if one
happened to be a Cardassian.  It was physically exhausting as well as
somewhat - messy.  These were Garak's thoughts as shifted from one
knee to the other trying desperately to find a more comfortable
position.  Unfortunately, a refusal to play Cardassian Hostage had
most detrimental consequences for the Cardassian player.  Dukat, the
fool, had put up a fight and had received a sound beating for it.
Even after that, Dukat had insisted on continuing with his fruitless
struggle, much to the delight of the guards who mistook Dukat's
unwillingness to submit for a sign of passion and arousal.  In the
end, one of the Nausicaans had had to hold him down while the other
had knelt across his chest.  When Dukat had resorted to biting, the
Nausicaans had finally realised that he wasn't playing properly and
the man whose - item - had been damaged slightly, though alas not
beyond healing, by Dukat's teeth had given him another beating, while
the other - who had played all variations of the game with Damar a
little earlier and who was now looking for a new player for variety's
sake - had focused his attention on Garak instead.

And so Garak was once again forced to busy himself with yet another
unfamiliar - item.  He sighed.  The one in front of him now was
alarmingly long, dark pink and laced with blue veins - not exactly the
kind a Cardassian would consider attractive, but he was in no position
right now to argue male beauty.  Thankfully, - it - was not
inordinately thick which would no doubt be a blessing in later stages
of the game.  As always in such situations -  he himself was amazed at
how many situations similar to this one he'd so far managed to survive
- he did the job to the best of his abilities.  And his abilities
were, he thought not without pride, quite considerable...

The growling and groaning of - its - owner eventually subsided and was
replaced by a pleasurable sigh.  The mess, Garak thought as he
swallowed, was an unpleasantness in its own right but with a little
willpower could be tolerated.  A pity that Dukat, who never stopped
talking about the wonders that a disciplined Cardassian mind could
achieve, didn't see it that way.  Garak watched from the corner of his
eye as a disruptor was pushed against the spoon shaped marking on
Dukat's forehead and his former enemy's lips parted slowly and
reluctantly to welcome the waiting - item - with an expression of
utter disgust.

"Well done, Cardassian!"  The Nausicaan gave a rough laugh as he
interrupted Garak's observations.  "You've got talent. I could get
used to having someone like you around -  Tell me, is THAT what you
used to do on Terok Nor?"

"Actually, sir," ventured Garak with an amiable smile, "I am a tailor
-"

"Not anymore, you're not."  The Nausicaan affectionately patted
Garak's head. "They don't need any Cardassian tailors on Ferenginar,
and that is where you're going to work after you and your friends are
convicted of murder."

"I can see that my trade would be in little demand on a world where
only half of the population wear clothes," said Garak, "but you must
believe me when I tell you that we had absolutely nothing to do with
the murder of Daimon Tel.  We were nowhere near him when he died, and
we certainly had no access to the safe where, as I understand, his
medicine was kept at all times.  Miss Shokumi, on the other hand -"

"Miss Shokumi," the Nausican roared, "had NOTHING to do with all
this!"  He proceeded to pull up his trousers and finally removed the
dreaded - item - from Garak's view.  "Shokumi is a nice girl.  A
little spoiled maybe, but nice all the same.  Unlike her father, that
greedy bastard!"

"Greedy - bastard?"

"Do you have any idea what Tel did to me and my brother?"

Garak could honestly say that he didn't.

"When our family on Nausicaa was going through a difficult time, he
offered us his financial help. Little did we know that when we signed
the contract we sold our bodies and souls to the devil.  His rates of
interest were so high that we wouldn't have been able to pay him back
in a hundred years.  Eventually, both my brother and I were sold into
slavery."

"I'm very sorry," said Garak, trying to sound it.  The Nausicaan's
expression brightened.

"But all that is over now.  Both my brother and I are going home as
free men.  And by the gods of my people," he roared with laughter and
slapped Garak's shoulder so hard that the Cardassian nearly lost
balance, "I just might have enough latinum to buy you, Cardassian, and
take you home with me!  How would you like that?"

Garak didn't like that at all, but of course it wouldn't have been
wise to say so to his would-be master.  Instead, he asked, "What makes
you think that Shokumi and her mother are going to let you go?"  He'd
always found that attending to one's customers' needs was a good way
to start a conversation, and this conversation was becoming far more
interesting than he had hoped for!

The Nausicaan sneered, "They WILL let me go, don't you worry!  After
all, I did Shokumi's mother a favour.  A BIG favour!" He roared again,
then lowered his voice to a whisper.  "The opportunity was perfect.
Six Cardassians on Raylos 4.  All somebody had to do was top up the
tube with the tibtum."

"And where, if I may be so bold," Garak whispered, "would - someone
get the extra tibtum from, and how would he be able to tamper with the
tube?"

"Child's play."  The Nausicaan's voice was barely audible now.  He
brought his head so close to Garak's that his black mane touched
Garak's face.  "All I needed was the access code to Tel's safe, and
Sho Tel was more than happy to provide me with that.  You see,
Cardassian, Sho Tel had been planning to get rid of her worthless
husband for a long time.  No Ferengi woman wants a husband who is too
senile to bring home profit and too taken with watching Cardassians
have sex to appreciate his wife."

"Indeed," Garak nodded.

The Nausicaan chuckled.  "Right. You and I, we both know that watching
others have sex is no good... don't we?"  With that he began
unbuckling his trousers again.  "Don't you worry," he said as he once
again produced his - item, "I'll treat you well.  You'll be a slave,
but I'll make sure you'll get all the sex that a Cardassian needs to
be happy."

"That's very kind of you," Garak grunted, as he was shoved roughly
against the wall.  Poor Dukat, he noted, was headed for the same fate
- but was evidently going to add to his own collection of bumps and
bruises on the way there.  Garak shook his head sadly and tiredly.
Just HOW long had he been awake, anyway?  Twenty-six hours?  Thirty-
nine?  Oh, to be able to lie down, undisturbed, close one's eyes, and
just sleep.  What paradise that would be.  He could almost imagine
what it would be like... he'd nearly be floating on air as his body
would dissolve into a million tiny sparkles and then, as if by magic,
re-form on the floor of... a Cardassian Galor-class warship.

Garak blinked.  He had fallen forward as he re-materialized on the
transporter pad; a Cardassian soldier watched him, but then stared
with mouth hanging open at the figure of Gul Dukat, also
materializing.  His dark blue work overalls were pushed down around
his waist, his back was criss-crossed with dozens of light and dark
gray welts, and his face held an expression of pure hatred and rage.
The soldier took an involuntary step backward.

Dukat blinked, then hastily stood up and addressed another figure
standing in the shadows.  Gul Lemek, Garak quickly noted, of the Third
Order - Lemek strode forward into the light.  "Dukat..." he began,
then seemed to fumble for words.  "So it WAS you.  The men on Damar's
ship were afraid you had been killed."

"Damar's ship?"

"We found it in orbit - we had come to investigate your disappearance,
on behalf of the Cardassian government.  It seems that Weyoun gave
very little information, but I knew there was more to be discovered
here.  And I must admit, I have never been quite so amazed at the
sheer lack of ingenuity of the Jem'Hadar.  Did no one think to try to
transport you out?"

"You mean to say that's all it took?  A simple transport?"  Dukat
seethed, ominously quiet.

"Yes, that's all.  We scanned for Cardassian lifesigns and have begun
to beam you out.  We're bringing up the other Cardassians now.  If you
please, sirs -"  He beckoned Garak and Dukat off the pads.  The two
gingerly stepped down, awkwardly re-fastening their work clothes as
they did so.  Lemek could not help staring.  "May I ask, sir -"

"No, you may not," Dukat barked.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not going back onto that Dominion ship.  You're to find the Vorta
and beam him to this ship as well."

"Yes, sir."

"And a Ferengi," Garak interrupted.  "A young Ferengi female."  At
Dukat's look of amazement, he explained, "She didn't kill her father -
his wife Sho did - along with several Nausicaans.  I don't think
Shokumi belongs with them.  I think she should be allowed to - seek
other opportunities."  Dukat said nothing, but nodded at Lemek.  In
the meantime, two other Cardassians had materialized on the pads,
including a very stunned and very disheveled Gul Damar.  Lemek, who
until recently had far outranked Damar, was no longer as intimidated
as he had been by Dukat's display of obvious and magisterial
authority.

"Gul Damar, I believe," he very carefully sneered, creeping up to him.
"Your crew was awaiting your safe return, till we arrived and did
their jobs FOR them."

"What does that mean?"

"Amazingly, no one, not one of your crew, thought to check to see if
you could be transported back to your ship."  He gave a small laugh.
"If it weren't for my intuition and resourcefulness, you might still
be down on that moon, doing - whatever it is you were doing."  Damar
bristled. "Just what WERE you doing?  Providing the Nausicaans with a
Cardassian hostage?"  Damar moved a fraction of a centimeter toward
the other man, and then, with a great and obvious effort, turned
toward Dukat instead, as the other two Cardassians arrived on the
transporter pad.

"Sir, I can't believe that my crew would have overlooked such a simple
thing - there must have been interference of some sort, signal
blockage -"

"There was probably nothing more than a miserly Ferengi who didn't
keep his transporters and transport blockers in repair, and a crew of
Jem'Hadar automatons without their Vorta to command them."  Garak
sighed.  "It only occurred to me now that we did an awful lot of
WALKING down there.  So did Tel - it undoubtedly kept the old man's
heart going for a few more years than it should have."

"But, SIR," Damar protested, ignoring Garak and facing Dukat, "we
beamed IN to the site!  Just as if we were cargo - we assumed that,
like all Ferengi warehouses, Tel's warehouses would be impossible to
beam OUT of -"

"But no one really TRIED, did they, Damar?" Dukat growled.  "No one
even THOUGHT to try.  So there we were, sorting stembolts,
entertaining Ferengi trolls, playing games with sadistic
Nausicaans..."  He took a menacing step toward Damar, who paled
slightly.  "If it weren't for the fact that you, too, were captured, I
think I'd be tempted to -"

"To what?" Damar gulped.

"To put you under Weyoun's command for the foreseeable future."

"How intriguing," Weyoun replied brightly, stepping down off the
transporter pad, unnoticed.  "I think I'd like that.  But, alas, we
Vorta are more interested in cooperation than command.  And there's a
little matter of cooperation I would like to discuss with you
gentlemen now. In private, if I may."  He motioned toward a corner of
the room.  Dukat and Damar glanced at each other, puzzled; then, as
understanding dawned, their expressions grew more fearful and serious
as they trailed after the Vorta, Lemek watching interestedly.

Garak, too, was watching interestedly - he had a little matter of his
own to discuss with Weyoun, the matter of Tel's real murderer.  But as
Shokumi Tel, surprised yet not afraid, appeared on the transporter
pad, Weyoun turned and smiled at her happily.  He evidently had come
to the same conclusion, Garak realized, and knew Shokumi was no
murderer.  A little spoiled, maybe, a little too profit-minded, but no
murderer.  Any woman who would forego a perfectly made-to-order
opportunity to play Cardassian Hostage, in favor of giving her own
father the pleasurable view, could not be that father's murderer.
Garak smiled and took the young woman's arm. "My dear, I think we're
going to have to see about getting you something to wear - it's not
wise to walk around a Cardassian warship unclothed."

"But - but - Mother -"

"Your mother will be fine.  The Nausicaan government will no doubt
drop its investigation, at a word from her.  WE will be regarded as
the murderers who successfully escaped."

"It was Mother," she sorrowfully began.  "Mother and a few of - of the
-" She began to cry, her green eyes brimming over with tears.

"There, there," Garak murmured, soothing her, "We're going to take you
away from this place for a while, if you'll come with us.  I think
there are other opportunities awaiting you on Deep - on Terok Nor,
opportunities that don't involve killing and violence."

"What about Damar?" Shokumi sniffled.

"What do you mean?"

"Will I be able to see him sometimes?  He's such a cutie.  Even if he
DOES like having other men force him to - well, you know -"

Lemek smiled broadly and turned to look at Damar; Damar, deep in
conversation with Weyoun, hadn't noticed a thing.  Lemek's smile
widened.

---

"Tired?  You're tired?  You've hardly begun."

"Weyoun, I'm warning you -"

"Warning me?  Of what?  That you'll deny all the recorded evidence
I'll have Sho forward to your colleagues?"  Dukat gulped.  "Yes, I
suppose computer videos CAN be altered.  I'm sure you can use that in
your defense.  In fact, as the image of you on the bed with Garak gets
played over and over and over again -"

"All right, Weyoun."  Dukat sighed and began again to knead the
Vorta's aching shoulders.  "How long am I to do this?"

"Till I tell you to stop, of course.  It's been a long day.  And you -
Damar.  Hurry up with that ice cream.  Lemek wants to talk to you in
his quarters."

"Yes - sir," Damar muttered, scooping chocolate ice cream into a bowl
and kneeling next to Weyoun's bed till the Vorta condescended to take
the bowl from him.

"You're both lucky I'm in no mood for any other games tonight.  We're
ALL too tired.  But on Terok Nor, my mood may - change periodically. I
used to have to play something called 'Vorta Hostage.'  Ever hear of
it?"

"No sir," Dukat and Damar both chorused, with trepidation.

Weyoun closed his eyes and smiled.

---

Garak closed his eyes and smiled.  This was wonderful - a warm bed, a
full stomach, and nothing to do but lie there till sleep overtook him.
He stretched out and felt his arm brush against the arm of the pretty
Ferengi lying next to him.  How wonderfully warm she was.  Doctor
Bashir, far away on the Defiant, would not be pleased - but Garak
couldn't help feeling a small but tangible sense of satisfaction that
he was not to be confronted with any more - items - for a while yet.
Shokumi snuggled next to him and whispered something in her sleep.
"Yes, my love, you have cute profits too," he whispered as he kissed
her forehead.  The ship continued its journey back to Terok Nor.

---

... And far away, in the antiquated and ill-kept morgue of a decrepit
hospital on Raylos 4, a small, wizened figure began to stir under the
autopsy scanner.  The room was dark, the figure was alone for the time
being, but the words, "Scales... glistening" could be distinctly
heard, as the figure smacked his lips and smiled in satisfaction.

---

The End