Star Trek: Typhon Pact - 10 - The Fall: The Crimson Shadow

by Una McCormack

  Garak smiled, unpleasantly. “Got you,” he said.

  Temet continued in this vein for some time, responding to questions about his intentions for the alliance with a sketch of a much more hard-line policy, and then he posed for the holo-cameras to capture a few pictures of him and his beaming family.

  “Oh, please . . .” Garak muttered. He thumbed at the controls, looking for another channel. “She should be speaking now. . . .”

  Rakena Garan appeared on the viewscreen. “. . . most difficult decision of my life,” she said, “but I shall not be seeking reelection for the office of castellan. I wish Evek Temet, and any other candidate who may choose to run for this great office, the very best of luck. . . .”

  Garak said, “Electric blue.”

  “I beg your pardon?” asked Mhevet.

  “Her suit.”

  “What about her suit?”

  “That color is called electric blue.” Garak looked Mhevet up and down with a faintly disapproving air. “If we’re going to become better acquainted, Investigator, you’re going to have to take more interest in fashion.”

  “I take exactly as much interest in fashion as is healthy. Can you explain what the color of the castellan’s suit signifies, sir?”

  “It signifies that she finally trusted my judgment about something. Doesn’t it look marvelous on her? This will be the main thing people remember about this interview. How good that color looked.” He waggled a finger. “Mark my words, Mhevet—by next spring, everybody will be wearing electric blue.”

  On the screen, the castellan was finishing her speech. “It has been an honor to serve Cardassia over these past years. I wish my successor, whoever that might be, the greatest of luck. I know that they will already understand what a great privilege it is to hold this office. It has been precisely that—the greatest privilege of my life. Thank you all.”

  She turned away from the glare of lights and the torrent of questions to go back inside the Assembly. Mhevet, watching closely, thought she saw a glitter in her eye. “I don’t feel like this is much of a victory.”

  “What more do you want?” Garak asked. “We’ve exposed corruption in the constabulary, put a break on fifth-column elements inside the CIB, prevented a major crisis from destroying our most significant alliance, and have also, not incidentally, solved your murder case. All in all, I’d call that a fairly good night’s work. Were you hoping for something more?”

  “But losing the castellan is a huge blow! Who’s going to stop Evek Temet?”

  “I’m sure a candidate will present himself in due course.”

  “It’s got to be someone impressive. Not her deputy. What’s his name?”

  “Enevek Vorat. No, not him.”

  “But Evek Temet is young, handsome, energetic—”

  “More reasons to hate him. But, yes, those are certainly attractive qualities to a voter. But others can be equally appealing. Don’t worry about this too much, Mhevet. I’m sure that some misguided fool can be persuaded to put their head on the block for the good of Cardassia.”

  “You do think of everything. . . .” She eyed him thoughtfully. “I have one more question to ask you.”

  “I’ll endeavor to give a satisfactory answer.”

  “Did you fake that assassination attempt?”

  “That would certainly be my style.” Garak’s smile hardened. “But, no. On this occasion, somebody really did try to kill me.”

  “The True Way?”

  “Who else? They’ve been watching me for a while now, at least since I interfered with their plans to destroy work happening up in the Andak Mountains. So I’ve been watching them. I didn’t know for sure when they’d strike, but Captain Picard was most understanding of my anxieties after Bacco’s death. The alliance certainly seemed to be the target, and I am closely associated with that alliance. I think the good captain would have preferred me under his protection rather sooner, but I had a great deal to do that could only be done in person.”

  “You cut it pretty fine.”

  Garak pushed out a breath.

  “Anyone might think you were addicted to risk,” Mhevet added, innocently.

  Garak threw her a narrow, sideways look.

  “I had something of a shaky time after your assassination,” she said. “I was terrified we’d all been seen together at the constabulary.”

  “I did try to reach you, Mhevet. You were incommunicado.”

  “You bet I was,” Mhevet muttered. “Still, I suppose it was helpful when it came to speaking to the castellan that she thought you were dead.”

  “Yes, resurrection is an excellent trick if you can pull it off. Likely to throw an interviewee off their guard . . . That frightened me, though, thinking that Rakena might have been one of them all along. . . .” He shuddered. “Thinking that it might have been for years . . .” He shook himself. “I shouldn’t torture myself with these fantasies.”

  “You do seem to see enemies everywhere.”

  “I would put it to you that I accurately assess the reality of my situation. A dear friend of mine has recently been assassinated by these people, and in fact they did also try to murder me.”

  “But if they’ve tried once, they’re going to try again, surely? Are you going to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?”

  “Yes, that’s a concern—to me, at any rate. It’s not as if I can stay here at HARF forever. The chairs will ruin my back.” Garak looked over his shoulder, out of the window. “In the past, I’ve tried to avoid public scrutiny. A legacy of my training. Blend into the background. Become one with the environment. That has, hitherto, afforded me a considerable degree of safety. But I think those days are coming to an end. So I must adopt new survival strategies.”

  * * *

  Give them their due, Garak thought, Ista Nemeny and Edek Mayrat coped admirably with walking into Fry’s office and coming face-to-face with him. Mayrat raised an eye-ridge, but Nemeny didn’t even blink.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” she asked.

  Garak held out his hands. “Reports of my demise,” he said, “are, as usual, vastly exaggerated. I assume you want the post-death interview? Or shall I contact someone else?”

  “How could we possibly refuse?” Expertly, Nemeny began to unpack her equipment, then she checked the light coming in through the window and closed the shutters and turned on overhead lighting. Mayrat took the pile of books from Fry’s desk and began shelving them.

  “We should put you in front of these,” he said. “It’ll make you look authoritative.”

  Garak frowned. “Do I not already look authoritative?”

  “Take whatever help’s on offer,” Nemeny advised.

  Eventually, they were ready. The holo-camera began to roll.

  “Ambassador Garak,” Mayrat said. “Thank you for your time.”

  Garak tilted his head. “I’m very glad to be here.”

  “Yes, indeed, Ambassador—which brings me to my first question. Only two days ago, the Cardassian people were shocked to hear that a skimmer in which you were supposedly traveling had been destroyed. I suspect many of those people will now be astonished to see that you are alive and well.”

  “But not, I hope, too disappointed,” Garak replied.

  Mayrat smiled. “One would hope not. What explanation can you offer the Cardassian people, Ambassador?”

  Garak adopted a serious expression. “I became aware of a possible threat to my safety shortly after arriving on Cardassia Prime. I notified the relevant people at the CIB. Their response was that they were not apprised of any such threat and that, in their judgment, my security arrangements were more than adequate.” He gave a cool smile. “If I were a more suspicious man, I might almost think they wanted me dead.”

  “Surely not, Ambassador—”

  “Fortunately for me,” Garak went on, “my friends within the Federation were prepared to take any threat to my life seriously. My particular thanks must go to Captain Jean
-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise who, as you can see, allowed me to take shelter here on Federation soil. Captain Picard is a true friend and ally of the Cardassian people.”

  “Why did you not share the news of your survival immediately, Ambassador?”

  “Truth be told, I was rather frightened by this turn of events. It seemed wise to keep a low profile while preliminary investigations were under way—”

  “Then you think you know who was responsible?”

  “I couldn’t possibly comment on an open case.”

  “The constabularies are investigating though?”

  “I sincerely hope so. Speaking of the constabularies, I’d like to take the opportunity to thank Director Kalanis of the city constabulary for allowing one of her senior investigators the freedom to assist me during this period.” That, Garak reflected, while not technically false, played rather fast and loose with the facts, in that Kalanis hadn’t formally released Mhevet to him—but the end effect had been the same. “I’m very glad to hear that she has been reinstated.”

  “Yes, it’s been a good day for Director Kalanis—although the fortunes of other senior officials are less rosy at the moment. Prynok Crell, for example.”

  “It’s a shame that Crell didn’t listen when I approached him with my concerns. I’ve extensive prior experience in these matters.”

  “Would you like to guess why he didn’t listen to you?”

  Garak pondered this. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t.”

  Mayrat gave him a look. Garak looked steadily back.

  “Failings at the top of the CIB have not only cost Prynok Crell his job,” Mayrat went on, “but commentators have been suggesting that this is also the reason that the castellan has chosen not to run for reelection. Do you have any further insight into this unexpected decision of hers?”

  “I’ve worked with Castellan Garan for several years now and she has impressed me as a dedicated public servant. Whatever prompted this decision, I’m sure it’s been made with the best interests of the Union at heart. The Cardassian people have been lucky to have Rakena Garan as their leader.”

  Mayrat tilted his head. That doesn’t answer my question.

  Garak tilted his head in turn. It’s the only answer you’re getting.

  “This seems to leave the way open,” Mayrat said, “for Representative Evek Temet to become our leader. Regular viewers of my program will surely remember your recent, er, lively clash with the representative. Would you care to offer an opinion on his candidacy?”

  “I’m sure it comes as no surprise when I say that I think that Evek Temet would be a disastrous choice for castellan,” Garak said. “He appeals to all our worst impulses: our brutality, our lack of compassion, a suspicion of other species that verges on hatred, on paranoia.”

  Mayrat was nodding to him to continue. You’ve got free rein here, Ambassador.

  “It is my belief that the Cardassian people will not be persuaded by this man,” Garak said. “We’re wise now. We’ve learned that the old ways cannot lead to anything other than great suffering. That Cardassia is gone, I am very glad to say, however much Evek Temet wishes it would return.” Garak smiled and shook his head and spoke gently. “It won’t. It can’t. And to return to the old ways would surely finish the task that Dukat and the Jem’Hadar started. I believe . . .” He opened his eyes wide. He was good at not blinking. “I believe that despite all we’ve lost and all we’re still mourning, most of us are looking to the future, not the past. Some of us may still be trapped there—but only some. All it needs is for most of us to say: No more. Never again. No. And I believe a majority of us will indeed say ‘no’ to Evek Temet.”

  He looked at his interviewer, who seemed to have become caught up in this small speech. I should do this for a living, Garak thought.

  Mayrat collected himself. “Who do you think would be best placed to defeat Temet in the election, Ambassador? It’s difficult to see a candidate among the progressive and radical groups in the Assembly that would be acceptable to them all.”

  “Yes, that’s an unfortunate fact about their coalition at the moment. This is one reason why I’ve decided to run for the office of castellan myself.”

  The look on Mayrat’s face was beyond comical. It was only a shame the Cardassian people would never see it, as there was only one holo-camera, and Nemeny would surely edit it out. His colleagues would surely enjoy it, though. In a choked voice, Mayrat said, “Can we stop recording for a moment, please, Ista?”

  “I think we better had.”

  Nemeny put down the holo-camera. They both turned to Garak, but before either of them could speak, he pointed across the room. “There’s kanar over there. I can recommend whiskey for shock, although it’s something of an acquired taste.”

  “You really do enjoy all this, don’t you?” asked Mayrat, once he’d downed a decent measure of kanar.

  “I have few pleasures in life,” Garak murmured.

  “Rubbish,” said Mayrat.

  With a nod, Nemeny indicated that the holo-camera was running again.

  “That’s exciting news, Ambassador,” said Mayrat, deadpan. Garak admired his sangfroid. “You were, until recently, not particularly well known in the Union. Perhaps you’d like to take the opportunity to tell the Cardassian people why they should consider you for castellan?”

  Garak twitched an eye-ridge up at him. You really want to give me a platform?

  Mayrat shrugged. Go ahead.

  “Very well. I am pro-democracy. I am pro-alliance. I believe that the Union stands at a moment of choice: to fall back into the old ways, into the darkness, or to move ahead into a much brighter future. I believe my past experience uniquely equips me to understand the nature of that choice, and my commitment and dedication can lead the Union forward. I have been all that was worst about the old Cardassia, and I have learned a great deal from all those who are best about our new Cardassia.” He settled comfortably into this new part. “Of course, talk of alliances and democracy is all very well, but what the people of Cardassia want to know is whether there’ll be work, and schools, and education, and health care, and fresh water. My record after the Dominion War speaks for itself, I think. But there’s a great more I should like to do for the Cardassian people—if they’ll allow me.”

  “Ambassador Garak,” said Mayrat, “thank you very much.”

  Nemeny signaled that she had stopped recording. Garak rearranged himself in his chair.

  “Well,” said Mayrat. “You’ve got my vote.”

  “I won’t hold you to that.”

  “You can’t. It’s a secret ballot. But—a choice between you or Evek Temet?” Mayrat shook his head. “No competition.”

  “The humans have an expression for such a choice,” Garak said. “ ‘Better the devil you know.’ ”

  “Except not many people know much about you, do they?”

  “I’m sure I can rely on you and your colleagues to remedy that situation,” said the newly announced candidate for Cardassia’s highest office. “But you’re right,” he said. “It’s a straight choice between me and Temet. Between a future for our people as part of the wider quadrant—or between isolation and infamy.”

  Nemeny dimmed the lights. “Anyone might think you wanted it to work out that way.”

  Garak rubbed his eyes. “Believe me,” he said. “I didn’t.”

  * * *

  “I would like to commend your quick thinking last night,” Picard said dryly to Worf and Šmrhová. “Your willingness to bring Glinn Dygan and Investigator Mhevet into the compound not only saved their lives, but it saved the life of a child who by chance found herself the only witness to the murder of a fellow officer.”

  “Lieutenant Šmrhová,” said Worf, “has been very concerned throughout the past few days about the security implications of allowing Cardassian personnel onto HARF installations.”

  Šmrhová shot him a grateful look.

  Picard studied his first officer thoughtfully
. “I see, Number One,” he said. “Well, I’m duty bound to point out that your actions were in direct contravention of an order from the office of the president pro tem that HARF installations were to be closed to all non-Federation personnel.”

  “We did have Ambassador Garak and his bodyguards upstairs at the time, sir,” Worf said. “And your instruction was to implement the order within the bounds of reason and compassion.”

  “That was indeed how I worded the instruction, Number One. Nevertheless, I hope that neither of you will do anything of the sort again.”

  “Of course not, sir,” Šmrhová said, in a subdued voice. “Sorry, sir.”

  Worf folded his arms and said nothing.

  “Until next time, of course,” said Picard.

  * * *

  “What I am still trying to understand, Captain,” said President Ishan, “is why the castellan felt that she could not run again for office.”

  “My reading of the situation is that there are particular sensitivities within the Cardassian Union concerning their intelligence services,” Picard said. “The Obsidian Order casts a long shadow over the Cardassian consciousness. Let us not forget that it was Enabran Tain’s decision to step beyond his authority, arm the Obsidian Order, and launch an attack on the Founders’ homeworld that lay at the root of the Dominion’s antipathy toward Cardassia. The castellan, as the leader of the civilian Assembly, plays a crucial role in providing a check on the CIB’s power. For the castellan to be seen to have lost control over the agency plays into some very particular fears at work on this world. Nobody wants to see an uncontrolled secret police established again within the Union. Rakena Garan made a grave mistake losing control of Prylok Crell.”

  Picard observed his new president closely. He and Garak had worked for some time on this explanation. He could only hope that Ishan was convinced.

  “But if these polls are to be believed,” said Ishan slowly, “the Cardassian people look likely to elect the last surviving member of the Obsidian Order.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Picard. “A complicated place, Cardassia.”