The following story is for the enjoyment of all, and is a semi-
silly story about Garak and Q, patterned (although only
obliquely) after the wonderful children's story, "The Gallant
Tailor".  


InQuisition by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com)


The sudden flash of light would have startled anyone.  Many
people would have run for cover immediately, or called Station
Security, especially after seeing what, or rather who, the flash
of light had left behind.

The occupant of the tiny shop did neither.  "Were you looking
for a suit, sir?" Elim Garak, the Cardassian tailor who ran this
establishment on the Promenade, asked mildly.

"Don't toy with me!" the tall entity in a wine-colored Starfleet
captain's uniform snapped.  "You know perfectly well who I am
and that I'm not here to pass the time of day."

Garak gave a half bow.  "Perhaps.  Nonetheless, you must want
something other than that... impeccably boring uniform."

The visitor straightened his sleeves impatiently.  "Are all
Cardassians as dull-witted as you?  If I want something else, I'll
make it.  And it'll be better than anything you can produce with
your needle and thread."

"I'm simply a humble tailor," Garak said, amusement coloring
his tone.  "I like to think I'm a good one."

"Oh, how clever," Q said sarcastically.  "That'll go over well
when the Bajoran government comes to arrest you."

Garak's posture didn't change, although his eyes sharpened. 
"The Bajoran government?  That old conflict?  It's been over
for years.  Bajor won.  Didn't you get the word?"

Q's eyes virtually snapped with frustration.  "Don't try to play
stupid with me.  I can read your every thought, and I know who
precisely you are and what you really do."

"Really?" Garak said mildly.  "How sad for you.  You must
regret cluttering your mind with my poor thoughts."

"Constantly."  Q swiveled to look at the meager racks of
finished clothes, disappearing and reappearing in a flash of light
next to a display of belts.  He picked one out of the rest, a
wide, unadorned leather belt.  As he held it in his hands, words
appeared in dark lettering, "Seven At One Blow".

Garak took the sight in without saying anything.  Listening was
always wiser than talking.  Information was never gained by
talking, although sometimes confidences were.  In any case, he
had no idea what the significance of the words were, or why Q
was doing what he was doing.  That it meant trouble, Garak had
no doubt.  Everything meant trouble.  There was nothing new in
that, and in truth, Garak relished the possibility.

Q tossed the belt to Garak, who caught it easily.  "Wear it in
good health, my simple tailor.  You'll need it."

He disappeared in a flash of light, and Garak studied the belt. 
The Bajoran government wanted him?  What was it this time?

****

"I'm sorry, Julian.  I'm busy tonight.  I promised the Major that
I'd help her to choose a dress for the upcoming social function." 
The Trill made a pretty apology, but there was no chance that
the doctor standing close to her would ever believe it.  He had
been turned down too many times before to believe a word of it.

"Of course," Bashir said gallantly.  "Some other time,
perhaps?"

"Some other time," Jadzia Dax agreed, happy to have
discouraged him politely.  Julian was just too *young* for her,
even if she were interested in romantic entanglements, which
she was not.

"In that case, may I have the pleasure of your company,
doctor?" a new voice inserted into the conversation.

"Garak!  Of course!" Bashir said, delighted to see his friend. 
They frequently had lunch together, but rarely anything more.

"I'll see you later, Julian," Jadzia said, excusing herself
politely.

"Yes," Bashir said, then turned back to Garak.  "To what do I
owe this honor?"

"Perhaps we could discuss it over dinner?" Garak suggested.  "I
had an... *interesting* experience happen to me a little while
ago."

Bashir allowed himself to be led out, and down towards the
Promenade.  "An interesting experience?  No one threatened
you did they?"  Bashir seemed genuinely concerned for his
friend, and with good reason.  Despite his guise as a "simple"
tailor, Garak was far more than that.  No one knew how much
more, but there was a good deal of speculation on the subject. 
And an interesting experience for Garak could range from
having been asked to make a bridal trousseau for Major Kira to
having been visited by agents of the Obsidian Order.

"Not *precisely*," Garak said.

"Not precisely?" Bashir asked, beginning to be alarmed. 
"Should we have Odo join us?"

"Oh, no.  I don't believe there's anything the good constable
could do in this situation.  It does seem to be out of his
jurisdiction."  Garak seemed to find that last concept especially
amusing.

Bashir put his questions aside for the moment as they walked
into Quark's place.  Quark was at their side instantly, as if
propelled by magnetic force.

"I have that *special* table you requested ready, Doctor,"
Quark said ingratiatingly.  He looked over at Garak.  "Although
I'm a bit surprised at your choice of date.  You know, for the
right price, I could find you a woman.  An attractive, *human*
woman."

Garak looked over at Bashir, who was almost choking with
embarrassment.  "Really, doctor?  I never knew you cared."

"Garak!" Bashir sputtered, turning red.  "I... I was planning on
bringing Jadzia here!"

"Of course you were," Quark said sympathetically.  "I
understand completely."  He looked at Garak and grinned. 
"Jadzia.  Right.  Your table's this way, gentlemen."

The implication was not lost on Bashir.  He looked at Garak. 
"He thinks... he thinks we're..."

"Yes?" Garak said, an amused look passing across his face. 
"What *does* Quark think?"

"Never mind."  Bashir turned on his heel and followed Quark to
their table.

Quark stood at their sides as they seated themselves.  The table
was well away from the rest of the room, as secluded as
anything could be in a crowded bar on a space station.  "I
assure you, you'll have absolute privacy.  And if you'd like
more privacy later, I have holosuites available.  For the right
price, of course."

Bashir was completely red now and unable to make any answer. 
Garak took that as a sign that he needed to step in, and turned
to the Ferengi proprietor.  "We'll call if we need you.  Thank
you."

Quark bowed deeply and left.

Bashir sighed.  "I admire that quality in you, Elim."

"And what quality would that be, Julian?"

"Your politeness in any situation.  Nothing bothers you." 
Bashir shook his head.  "I try my best, but I do get upset at
times."

Garak looked at the doctor with affection.  Torture had a way of
doing that to you.  There was little that had not happened to
Garak, few experiences that had passed him by.  He had
possessed absolute power, had everything he wanted when he
wanted it.  And he had been at the other end of that as well,
with nothing at all other than his own self, his own mind and his
own memories to stand between himself and a man who wanted
to break him.  Garak had not broken.  There were drugs that
could steal any information from a man's mind, and Garak had
fallen prey to that treatment before.  But his will was his own,
and would always be his.  Part of the reason it was his own was
that Garak knew how to distance himself from other people,
knew how to separate himself from anything that might happen
and not allow it to affect him.  However, that was only part of
it.  The real trick was to manage that, to separate the universe
from yourself, and then to live in it, as a grand game.  Because
that was he found it once he had learned to stand back from it. 
A marvelous adventure.

But he couldn't tell the doctor that.  Julian was entirely too
innocent to bear the weight of Garak's experiences.  If Garak
had wanted to talk about them, which he did not.  "Manners are
everything, my dear Julian.  Without politeness, the universe
would be a much less civilized place."

Bashir laughed, as Garak had meant him to.

They ordered their food without further incident, and chatted
about inconsequentialities until dinner was eaten and the plates
cleared away.  

Bashir had a cup of coffee at his elbow, which he moved to the
center of the table and added cream to.  "What did you want to
talk about?  There was something, wasn't there?  This wasn't
just an excuse to embarrass me in front of Quark, was it?"

Garak accepted the gentle teasing with good grace.  "There was,
doctor."  He reached down and unfastened his belt, placing it on
the table so that Julian could read the words embossed on it. 
"Does 'Seven At One Blow' mean anything to you?"

"'Seven At One Blow'?"  Bashir was non-plussed.  "What does
this have to do with anything?"

"I had a visitor at the shop this afternoon.  He warned me about
an upcoming visit from representatives of the Bajoran
government, and then left me this as a gift."

"A visitor?" Bashir asked.  "From Bajor?  Or..."

"No, no, nothing like that," Garak said.  "I've never previously
met the gentleman, but how many Starfleet captains arrive in
pyrotechnic bursts?"

"Q," Bashir confirmed grimly.  "I *have* met him."  He had
sent Julian to sleep the last time he had been here.  Q had been
costumed as a waiter, but Julian knew from other people's
accounts of the incident that Q preferred to be costumed as a
captain in Starfleet.  "It wasn't a pleasure."

Garak tilted his head.  "Do you recognize the saying?"

Bashir didn't look at the belt.  "Q warned you about the Bajoran
government coming to prosecute you?  Garak, you're in
danger!"

"Really, doctor, I don't think..."

Bashir didn't wait for Garak to deny the danger he was in.  He
tapped his comm badge.  "Bashir to Odo."

"Odo here."

"I have reason to believe that the Bajoran government is going
to commit some sort of action against Garak."

"The Bajoran government?" the constable asked.  "Against
*Garak*?  Isn't this a little late for this kind of thing?"

"I know, Constable.  However, I thought you should know. 
The... *evidence* is unconfirmed, but comes from a informed
source."

Odo almost audibly sighed.  "Is Garak there with you?"

"Yes," Bashir said.

"Does he want my protection?"

"No."

"Yes."  The two men spoke simultaneously, Bashir's affirmation
carrying over Garak's negation.

"Very well," Odo said in a tried voice.  "I'll see what I can do. 
Odo out."

Garak looked solemnly at Bashir.  "You shouldn't have done
that."

"I'm your friend, Elim.  What else could I do?"

Garak shook his head slightly.  "Stand by and let things happen
as they will."

"I couldn't do that," Bashir said fiercely.  "You know better
than that."

"I suppose I do."  Garak changed the subject.  "Do you
recognize the wording on the belt?"

Bashir shook his head.  "The only thing I can think of is
extremely silly."

Garak looked interested.  "What is it?"

Bashir leaned forward.  "You understand, I have no idea if this
is what this relates to, and if it is, then it makes no sense to
me."

Garak motioned him to continue.

"There's this story, a Terran story, about a tailor who kills
seven flies at one time.  And he sews the tale of his victory into
his clothing.  Then he leaves town, or visits relatives, I don't
really remember what happens.  In any case, someone sees the
boast and thinks it means that he killed seven *men* at one
blow.  They take the tailor to the ruler of the land, and he sets
the tailor to kill two giants which are threatening the kingdom."

"And?"

"And the tailor does it.  I don't remember how, though.  By
trickery, I believe."  Bashir sat back.  "But I really don't see
what that has to do with anything.  You're a tailor, but that's
the only point of commonality.  The man in the story allows
everyone to think that he did kill seven men at one time and
uses that power to convince them."

"By trickery, you say?" Garak asked mildly.  "I must try to find
this story.  It sounds entertaining.  Not like the Cardassian
version."

"You've heard the story before?" Bashir asked.

Garak nodded.  "The 'Seven At One Blow' line does not appear
in the Cardassian version; however, it is a similar tale.  In ours,
the tailor is tortured to death for his impertinence."

As Bashir stared at Garak, uncertain whether that was meant to
be humor or simply grim truth, there was a shout from the front
of the establishment.  Bashir looked up, startled.

"There he is!  Get him!"  

Garak didn't twitch, hardly seeming to notice the commotion. 
He retrieved the belt and fastened it around him.  "It looks like
the floor show has arrived."

Bashir was frantic.  "You have to get out of here!"

"I do?  But how do I even know they're after *me*?  I'm just a
tailor after all."

The Bajorans strode towards their table, their entire attention
focussed on Garak.

"I think there's good odds that they're after you, Garak," Bashir
said, grim-faced.  There was no time to run now.  And Odo had
already been alerted to the danger.  Quark's follow-up call,
which there would undoubtably be one of, would only pinpoint
the constable to the location of the disturbance.

Garak stood up.  "Is there something I can assist you gentlemen
with?  New robes perhaps?  In a more flattering color?"

"Shut up!"  The leader grabbed Garak by the arm.  "Come with
us now and no one gets hurt."

"I wouldn't dream of causing a fuss," Garak said mildly.

"I would," Odo said.

The group turned to face Odo, who had come in after them.  He
was standing between them and the door, and looked distinctly
unpleasant.  He had three guards with him, all armed and
competent looking.

"Oh, dear, there isn't going to be a problem, is there?" Garak
asked.

"I should think you'd appreciate it," Odo said, striding through
the grim-faced men as if they weren't there at all.  "I've gone
through a lot of trouble for you, Garak, and frankly, if it
weren't for the doctor's request, I might very well let them have
you."

"Did I ask for your assistance?" Garak asked.

"Oh, let them have him," a new, sardonic voice added.  "He
isn't worth saving.  He's nearly as clever as I'd hoped."

"I'll be the judge of that," Odo said automatically, before
turning to look at the intruder.

Q was lounging in Garak's discarded seat, casually twirling a
glass of wine in one hand.  "He's grossly ungrateful, and he
deserves to suffer.  Do you *know* what he's done?"

"That's beside the point," Odo snapped.  "If he has done
anything, then he deserves a trial.  This isn't justice, it's mob
rule."

Q waved the glass lazily.  "Whatever.  Justice is merely
legitimized mob rule."

The leader of the Bajorans disregarded Q, turning to Odo as the
source of authority in the room.  "We have a writ for the arrest
of one Elim Garak."

"Show it to me," Odo snapped, furious at being balked.  He had
come down expecting to deal with a bunch of ragtag fugitives. 
If these were legitimate representatives of the Bajoran
government, then this was a much more serious matter.

The Bajoran handed it over to Odo, who scanned through it,
then looked up at Garak with an unpleasant expression on his
face.  "Well, well, Garak.  It looks like they have you at last. 
You've been ordered to stand trial on Bajor for your crimes."

"Charming," Garak said.  "Since I've already closed up shop
for the evening, I suppose I'm ready go."

Bashir bounded up out of his seat, unable to take this any
longer.  "You can't just *go* with them."

"I can't?" Garak asked.

Bashir appealed to Odo.  "You can't let them take him.  They
don't have any jurisdiction.  And they'll kill them.  He's
*Cardassian*.  Of course, they'll blame him for everything."

"And rightfully so," the Bajoran leader hissed.

Bashir ignored him.  "Do *something*, Odo."

Odo looked between the two factions.  "This is against my
better judgment, but since it will have to show up in my report
eventually..."  He touched his comm badge.  "Odo to
Commander Sisko."

"Sisko here."

"I have a little problem I'd like to show you, Commander."

There was a brief pause, then, "In my office.  Ten minutes."

"Understood.  Odo out."  The constable looked at the little
group.  "Let's go."

****

"This is outrageous!" the Bajoran leader protested.  "Our
documentation is in perfect order, and our right firmly
established.  Elim Garak is to stand trial, and there is no reason
why you should deny us."

The small office was very crowded.  Commander Sisko sat at
his desk, while Odo stood alongside, a calm presence amidst the
storm.  Bashir had subsided sullenly to a chair, while Garak
watched it all with bright, interested eyes.  Q was nowhere in
evidence, which was just as well.  The Bajoran's entourage had
been disposed outside, with a Security detail watching them
carefully.

"Denry Forte, you must understand..."

Denry made a chopping motion with his hand.  "I *must*
understand nothing.  I have the legal right in this case to take
this Cardassian into custody.  You are deliberately interfering
with the cause of justice."

Sisko looked over at Garak.  "Do you have anything to say in
your defense?"

"No."

Sisko suppressed a heavy sigh.  "If you would protest this, I
could *help* you, Garak."

"Help, commander?" Garak asked innocently.  "I was unaware
that I needed help with anything."

"Would you prefer that I allow Denry to take you away?"

"Commander!" Bashir protested.

Sisko waved him to silence while staring at Garak.  "Well,
Garak?"

"Your offer of assistance is gratefully appreciated, Commander,
but no, thank you."

Sisko looked at Garak for a long moment, then turned to Denry. 
"You can't have him."

"What?!" the Bajoran protested.  "I have a writ for his arrest! 
A perfectly legal request, even under Federation law.  And this
man isn't even a Federation citizen!  How dare you?"

Sisko looked at him, gaze dark.  "I'm trying to protect you."

"Trying to protect *me*?" Denry asked in disbelief.  "From
what?"

"From him," Sisko said, nodding at Garak.  "You don't know
what you're getting into, and you can't handle it."

"What are you talking about?  Have you lost your mind?" the
Bajoran asked.  "I've got four men with me.  Together, we're
more than enough to handle a tailor, even a Cardassian tailor."

Sisko shook his head, then explained patiently, as if to a child. 
"He wants you to take him.  You should know, given the
charges you have spelled out there, that Garak is far more
dangerous than he appears to be.  If he wants you to take him
with you, then that is the last thing that you should do."

"I'm flattered," Garak murmured in an undertone.

Sisko glared at him before looking back at the Bajoran.  "The
best I can do is to suggest that you hold your legal action here. 
Would that satisfy your desire for justice?"

Denry looked at him for a moment.  "Admirably."

"It's settled then.  Garak, you will consider yourself confined to
Deep Space Nine until such time as the trial can be scheduled."

Denry protested.  "Commander, that's not good enough.  He is
a known criminal.  He could escape at any time."

Sisko nodded.  "Perhaps.  But I think not.  In any case, I'm
sure Constable Odo will keep an eye on Garak.  Correct, Odo?"

"Yes, commander."

Sisko nodded.  "In that case, you may all go."

They filed out, not without some resistance from Denry, who
looked back at Sisko as if he'd like to object further.  However
Odo brought up the rear like an avenging personification of
doom, and even Denry had to give way to that.

Sisko looked down at his desk, silently asking himself, "Why
me?"

"Why not?"

Sisko looked up.  Q was suddenly there, lounging in the chair
across from him, as casual as could be.

"Q!  What do you have to do with this?"

"Nothing at all.  I'm merely an interested observer."  Q sat
forward, face serious.  "You really should stop thinking such
suspicious thoughts about me.  Your little tin can almost blew
itself into tiny pieces the last time I was here, and it was all
because you were distrustful and blaming it on me when in fact,
as I warned you, responsibility for the entire affair rested on
someone of your own species."

"Is there a point to this?" Sisko asked impatiently.

"Of course, there's a point!"  Q sat back, his usual excitement
playing across his features again.  "But it's for me to know and
you to find out."

The flash of light as Q disappeared hurt his eyes, and Sisko
closed them, sighing audibly this time.  What next?  Had Jake
and Nog commandeered a runabout?  Riots on the Promenade? 
The day couldn't get much worse.

****

Q appeared to Garak in a flash of light.  "That was a brilliant
move, by the way.  Bravo, my good man."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Garak said,
examining the work he had done on Julian's costume for the
upcoming social event of the year.  Odo had permitted him to
return to his quarters the evening before without a guard of any
kind.  Garak had been accepting, although somewhat surprised. 
However Odo had explained it away with a gruff comment of,
"If you wanted to escape, you would.  You know the station
better than any of my men ever could."  It was business as usual
this morning for Garak.  The trial couldn't possibly take place
until the necessary Bajoran legal authorities had been located
and convinced to transport to the station.  Until then, he did
need to make a living. 

"Of course you do," Q said, coming up on Garak from behind,
looming over him with subtle menace.  "Back in Sisko's office. 
When you convinced him that you were too dangerous to be
taken away.  Simply brilliant."

Garak pretended not to understand what Q was talking about,
hyperaware of Q's position behind him, but showing no outward
sign of his perception.

"I may have underestimated you," Q said, a sardonic smile on
his face.  "I thought at first that you would be no sport at all,
but it turns out that you are rather devious, after all."

The costume would need another line of embroidery, Garak
mused absently.  In green, to suit Julian's eyes.

When he turned around, Q was gone.

The bell at the door of his shop rung and Garak stood there
patiently, waiting to assist his customer.

Major Kira Nerys stalked in, followed by Jadzia Dax.  The
Bajoran woman was not happy, was in fact seething.

"May I help you, ladies?" Garak asked, with polite curiosity.

"Yes, we'd like to order a dress," the Trill said calmly.

"I do *not* need a dress!  And if I was going to get one, it
wouldn't be from someone who'll be in a cell on Bajor at the
very time of the ball!"

Garak tilted his head.  "A dress for the major?  I think I could
manage something."

Dax looked triumphantly at Kira.  "I told you so."

The smaller woman was seething.  "I am *not* getting a dress
from him!  Even if I were wearing a dress to this... this
*party*.  Which I'm not.  My uniform is perfectly adequate and
much more appropriate."

Dax looked at Garak, who looked at Kira.  She glared at them. 
"What is this?  Some kind of conspiracy?"

Dax stepped in, "Now, Nerys, you know that Garak is the best
there is at this."

"I'm flattered," Garak murmured in a low voice.  He looked at
the pair.  "Perhaps I could be of some assistance."

"I doubt that," Kira said sullenly, resenting having been dragged
here at all.  But she and Dax had had no luck at finding
anything which suited both Kira's desire not to be dressed up
and Dax's natural sense of elegance and style.

"If you would?" Garak indicated that they should follow him
into his workspace.  They trailed after him, waiting while he
found what he was looking for.  He laid the sketches out on the
table, and the women came closer to look at them.

"Are those designs on paper?" Dax asked.  It was obvious that
they were, but the habit was so old-fashioned that she could
hardly believe it.

Garak nodded.  "My artistic side is stunted when I must use a
computer for designing."

Kira looked at them and turned red.  "These aren't appropriate."

"Of course not," Garak said mildly.  "Those wouldn't suit you
at all.  However, if the lovely Jadzia would consent to glance
through those, she might find something she liked."

Dax felt flattered and flustered all at once.  "I already have a
gown for the event, Garak.  I'm sorry."

"Some other time, perhaps," he said, hands busy with the
papers.  He pulled out a small section, but did not immediately
show them to Kira.  "Now, Major, you need something more
restrained.  Something that shows your natural power and grace
all at once, while not obscuring your femininity."

Before Kira could react to that, Garak laid out the sheets he had
selected.  He stood there quietly, letting her look over the
designs.

Dax peered over Kira's shoulder, then looked up at Garak.  "I
think I should have let you design my dress."

Garak inclined his head gracefully to her.  "I am ingratiated,
madam."

Kira turned the pages, ignoring the byplay, concentrating on the
wonders unfolding before her.  There were only a handful of
sketches, and each one was better than the last.  Part of her was
telling her that these were inappropriate for someone such as
herself, but the rest of her was wondering what one of these
would actually look like *on* her.

She was lingering on one, a picture of a faceless woman in an
elegant costume.  A single flow of deceptively simple butter
yellow fabric fell to mid-calf, a slit on the side revealing gold
clad legs matching the rest of singlet shown at throat and wrists. 
It was functional; she would be able to move easily in it, with
less skin showing than in her uniform, and yet at the same time,
beautiful and showy, suitable to wear to such a formal occasion
as the ball due to the rich fabrics it would be rendered in.  Kira
found herself transfixed by the sketch, and protested almost
automatically to it.  "The colors are all wrong for me.  I could
never wear these colors."

Dax covered her mouth to avoid laughing.  Kira had found a
dress.

Garak was unruffled.  "Of course, Major.  I'm sure I could find
something more suitable for you.  Why don't you take a look at
these?"  He led her over to a selection of color swatches, where
Kira spent a good half an hour protesting to various color
combinations including a lovely red and white which Dax
especially liked.  Eventually, even Kira's stubbornness had to
admit defeat.

"I don't know which colors look best.  These all look horrible
on me."

"Why don't you let me decide?" Garak suggested.  "Let me
*surprise* you."

As he accented the word, Kira's eyes narrowed.  "It had better
not be a surprise."

"Trust me, Major.  You'll be the belle of the ball."

Kira muttered something, very low, which sounded like, "That's
what I'm afraid of."

"Of course, I'll need your measurements," Garak said, looking
at her directly, a glint of amusement in his eyes.  "You could
send them to me if you have that information.  Or I could take
them the usual way."

A furious look came over Kira's face.  "I'll send them to you."

Before Kira could change her mind altogether, Dax steered her
out of the shop.  "Thank you, Garak!"

"My pleasure."  Garak watched them leave, then went to
straighten up.  He knew exactly what colors he would choose
for the obstinate major, and they would complement her
beautifully.  Past and present conflict between Cardassia and
Bajor did not enter into his work; Garak took great pride in his
tailoring.

Q was standing over the worktable, picking through the designs. 
He looked up as Garak reentered the room.  "You know, some
of these aren't half bad."

Garak folded his arms and stood where he was.  "I like to think
I have some small talent at my chosen profession."

Q cocked his head and looked at Garak.  "You're impossible." 
He dropped the designs, then disappeared and reappeared behind
Garak, bending over him.

He was about to whisper something, standing very close to the
tailor, but Garak interrupted him.  "If you continue doing that, I
might think you have an interest in me."

Q straightened up, a look of disgust on his face.  "How vulgar. 
Perhaps you're not worth my time, after all, tailor."

Then he was gone.  Garak went about the business of
straightening things up.  A tailor's work was never done.

****

"Could you come with us, please?"

Garak straightened up at the sound of the voice.  He had been
expecting this summons for some while now.  Usually,
execution committees were more prompt than this.

He turned around.  The guards were watching him warily, as if
he might have a weapon concealed somewhere and be about to
break for freedom.  The thought was quite funny, and Garak
smiled at them.  "So where are we going?"

They looked at each other, not sure how much they could tell
him.  "This way."

Garak fell in between them, and let them lead him off.

In the room where the trial would take place, Sisko, Odo, Kira
and Dax had already arrived.  Odo and Kira were pacing, while
Sisko was in an intense snit.  "Why couldn't he just ask me for
help?  He *knows* we would at least try to protect him."

"He doesn't want protection," Kira said, tight-lipped.

"Well, why not?" Sisko asked, frustrated.  "He must know what
kind of charges the Bajoran government has against him.  He
can't simply want to walk off into the sunset at this point and let
them hang him."

Dax, who was standing near him, lifted an eyebrow.  "We've
never quite known what Garak's motives were.  It could be that
there's something deeper behind this."

"Deeper?" Bashir walked in and flung himself into a chair, then
got up again, too full of nervous energy to sit.  "There's no
deeper motive.  Garak was completely startled to see them.  I
think he was just doing this for the fun of the game, and now he
can't get out."

Before anyone else could say anything, the Bajoran delegation
entered one at a time, led by Myrh Celd, a high religious
official.  Sisko recognized her at once, having been warned to
expect her and to treat her with all the courtesy due someone of
her rank.

She glided up to him.  "Commander."

Sisko inclined his head to her.  "It's my honor, your..."

"Call me Myrh," the small, apparently fragile woman with the
bright eyes said.

"Myrh," Sisko acknowledged.  "Will you be judging this...
trial?"

"No."

"No?"

"I had thought to judge it, but was doubtful of how impartial I
might be on the subject of his crimes against Bajor," her eyes
flashed at the thought.  "I have decided to let Starfleet stand as
impartial judge in this matter."

Sisko felt a smile dawning on his face, and quickly suppressed
it.  "That's quite fair.  I will be happy to..."

She cut him off with a wave of her hand.  "Originally I thought
of you; however, on the journey here, I encountered a Starfleet
captain who is temporarily onboard the space station, and he
agreed to serve as judge."  She turned to the door.  "I believe
he should be arrived any moment now, with the rest of my
delegation."

With a sinking feeling, Sisko turned to the door.

Q walked through, chatting with members of the Bajoran
delegation.  He looked up as he saw Sisko.  "Benjamin!  How
good to see you again."

"Q," Sisko muttered in tones of deep disgust.  Myrh had turned
away to begin planning her final strategy with her staff, and did
not hear the low voiced denigration of her choice as judge.

Q disengaged himself from the company and walked over to
Sisko, clearly enjoying himself.  When he was close to him, the
entity's expression changed to one of malicious glee and, in a
whisper, Q said, "You know, you're *aren't* anything like
Picard, after all.  He would never have *asked* me to judge
him."

Sisko stared grimly back.  "I didn't ask you, and I don't want
you here."

"Tut tut tut," Q said delightedly, waving his finger in Sisko's
face.  "That's not for you to decide."

"Did you influence her into choosing you?"

"Why, what a vile accusation!  Of course not, *Commander*,"
Q said, emphasizing Sisko's lower title.  "She made the decision
entirely on her own."  Q turned away with a flourish.  "On with
the trial!"

Sisko stared grimly after him, then looked over at Myrh. 
Before he could do anything, Kira intercepted him.  "Sir, you
*can't* tell her who he really is."

"Certainly I can," Sisko said almost automatically.  He looked
at Kira.  "Why can't I?"

She let go of his arm, relieved that he was willing to listen.  "It
would be an insult to her.  What are you going to tell her?  That
he's not a Starfleet captain, but that we let him do whatever he
wants anyway, that we can't stop him from doing whatever he
wants because he's a god?"

Sisko's expression got grimmer.  "If I have to."

"You *can't*.  She's very high up in the religious order.  Even
if she would believe you, it would be an insult to her beliefs."

Sisko nodded reluctantly.  "And Q *would* refuse to show his
powers then, specifically to humiliate me."

"Exactly," Kira said.

"But I can't just let him step in and run this trial.  This is
Garak's life we're talking about.  I can't stand by while Q
orders him killed."

"Do you have a choice?"

Sisko stared grimly at Q, who had taken a seat across the room
from him.  "I suppose not."

"Let the prisoner be brought in!" Q announced grandly.

The people assembled in the room took seats, as Garak was led
in.  He looked calmly around the room, showing no sign of
dismay at the sight of Q, at the hate-filled faces of the Bajoran
prosecution, or even at Bashir, whose expression was twisted
with anguish at the sight of something horrible that he was
powerless to prevent from occurring.

"Does the prisoner have any final words before the sentence is
carried out?" Q asked.

Before Garak could respond, Myrh had cleared her throat. 
"Isn't it customary to read the charges first?"

"Details, details," Q said.  "However, if you insist.  The
charges?"

Denry brought them to him, and Q read them over, clucking
deep in his throat.  "Yes, he's guilty."

"Q!"

The bellow from Sisko caused Q to look sulkily over at the
commander.  "Oh, very well.  But it's so dull to have a trial
when you already know what the verdict is going to be."

Kira got a report from her comm badge, which she took in a
low voice, stiffening as she heard it.  "Commander?"

Sisko looked over.  "What is it, major?"

Kira glanced at Odo, who immediately stopped paying elaborate
attention to Q and came over.  "There's a Cardassian ship
requesting docking permission.  Gul Dukat sends his greetings."

"Does he now?" Sisko said thoughtfully.

Kira nodded.

"Your honor, a brief recess, please?"  The words almost stuck
in Sisko's throat, but he needed to speak to Garak, and he
couldn't do that with this mockery of a trial proceeding.

"Oh, very well," Q said sulkily.  "But remember, no legal
trickery."

Sisko didn't respond to that, getting up and walking over to
Garak, who was sitting very calmly between his two guards. 
"Dukat is coming here."

"Is he now?" Garak asked in an interested tone.  "I wonder
what he finds so fascinating about this small trial."

Odo had followed Sisko over.  "You know what he finds so
fascinating.  You called him here."  Garak was widely known as
a spy, although Odo had been unable to actually prove this,
Garak being wily beyond belief.  That Garak had some way to
communicate with his Cardassian minders was beyond question. 

"Constable!  What an amazing conclusion to jump to," Garak
replied, neither confirming or denying Odo's suspicions.

Sisko didn't let up on his stare, stepping into the void Odo had
left.  "I was *trying* to help you.  Bringing Cardassia into this
is not going to help your case."

"Really, Commander.  I think I know my own former
countrymen better than you do."

Odo laughed scoffingly.  "Now I understand your game, Garak. 
You don't want them here anymore than we do.  Because you
know they'll kill you outright rather than let you fall into the
hands of the Bajorans."

Garak inclined his head.  "I'm flattered that you rate a poor
tailor so high in the socio-political scale."

Odo made another scoffing sound and would have said
something to Sisko, but the doors opened then, and an entourage
of Cardassians entered, led by Gul Dukat.

"Garak, the gallant tailor," Dukat said, drawing the words out
into a thinly veiled insult.  "How good to see you again."

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Garak answered.

Sisko exchanged one last look with Garak, then approached
Dukat, demanding, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I told him, commander," Q said, waving a lazy hand in
their direction, unable to restrain himself from not being the
center of attention for long.

All three delegations, Starfleet, the Bajorans and the
Cardassians, swiveled on him.

"You?"

"Me, me, me," Q said with a laugh.  "No need to leave anyone
out.  I don't want any complaints afterwards that I didn't let
*everyone* get in their fair hearing.  Now offer the Gul a seat
and let's move on to the execution!"

"The trial, Q," Sisko said determinedly.  "We haven't had a
trial yet."

"Oh, you're so boring, Benjamin.  So insistent on your proper
rules and procedures."

"Q..." Sisko said warningly.

"Oh, very well."

The Cardassians ignored this byplay, while the Bajorans looked
all at once confused by it and angered by the inclusion of the
Cardassian party into what had been a straightforward judicially
approved lynching.

"I've read the charges, and I find the defendant, Elim Garak,
guilty on all counts," Q said with a smug smile.  "Sentence to
be carried out immediately."

Sisko looked ready to protest, the Bajorans were jubilant, and
the Cardassians confused.  Only Garak kept his presence of
mind.  "By which side?"

"What?" Q looked down at Garak, his eyes narrowing.  "You
can't be thinking to get off on such a weak pretense as that."

Dukat fingered his weapon.  "We will not allow the traitor to
fall into the hands of Bajor."  He looked at Garak.  "You should
have realized that, tailor."

Garak inclined his head to him, but said nothing.

Denry jumped up, protesting loudly, "This isn't fair!  I insist
that the court's ruling be carried out as sentenced!  We have a
right to punish this *Cardassian* for his crimes."

"As do we," Dukat said, looking at Denry and smiling an evil
smile which put Denry back into his seat without further protest. 
"A prior claim, in fact."

Sisko looked at Q.  "This is your doing, Q.  Straighten it out."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Benjamin."  Q got up from his chair
and moved to Sisko, speaking to him alone.  "This is so much
more amusing my way, don't you agree?"

"No," Sisko said curtly.  "I don't."

"A pity.  Because it is *so* amusing to watch your so called
system of justice used to prosecute a *very* guilty man, and to
do it *legally*.  A novel experience for me, but then *I* would
have banished such a notorious and blatant criminal from
existence out of hand."

"I'm not you."

"How lucky for me."  With a Cheshire grin, Q left the room,
allowing Sisko to deal with the mess he had created.

Before all hell could break loose, Bashir was at Sisko's elbow,
expression anxious.  "You don't think Q has a *reason* for this,
do you, Commander?"

"A reason?  To torment us," Sisko said stiffly.  He looked at his
officers.  "Dax, calm down the Bajorans.  Try to get them to
wait while I work something, *anything* out.  Kira, I want you
to deal with Dukat.  Irritate him off the station if you can.  And
Odo, get Garak out of here before someone kills him."

They nodded, and went to their assigned posts, Bashir following
after Odo and Garak like a kicked puppy.

****

"What are you going to do, Garak?" Bashir asked anxiously, as
the small procession moved through the Promenade.

"Do?" Garak asked quizzically.  "I intend to finish my
commissions for the ball.  It looks as thought I don't have much
time left."

"That would not be advisable," Odo said grimly.  "They know
where to find you.  You're not safe in your shop.  Once they
realize they've been balked of their prey, they'll come hunting
you."

"And what do you suggest?" Garak asked mildly.  "That I spend
what remains of my life locked into a cell for my own
safekeeping?"

"Garak!" Bashir said, exasperated.

The tailor favored Bashir with a look.  "I assure you, I've
almost finished with your costume.  It will be ready shortly."

Bashir stared at Odo, who gave an almost human sigh and
turned away, leaving Garak and Bashir alone as they entered
Garak's small shop.  "I don't care about the damned costume,"
Bashir said intensely, staring at Garak.  "I care about you."

Garak looked down at the doctor, feeling a sense of warmth,
and an almost temptation to confide in Bashir.  But old habits
ran deep, and he could show no sign of weakness or doubt until
this was over.  The truth was that he had no more idea of what
would happen than Bashir did, but rather than being frightened
by the thought, Garak was enjoying it as one of the more
challenging puzzles which had come his way in years.  And the
stakes only added to the spice of the game.  His life was
balanced on a knife's blade, and he had only his skill at the
game to save him.  Weakness, such as a weakness towards
another person like Julian, would only hurt him.  

"That's very kind of you, Julian, and I thank you for your
concern, but I really must get back to work now."

Without any fuss, and without knowing how he did it, Julian
was escorted outside and left to stare at the closed door.

****

Sisko had managed to get the heads of the respective delegations
alone in his office.  He hadn't managed to get Q, the cause of
all this trouble there as well, but he didn't want Q; he wanted to
solve this.  Which was an excellent reason to exclude Garak as
well.

The yammering had already gone on for a good fifteen minutes,
with Denry protesting about every possible slight to Myrh's
dignity including having to endure being brought down to the
level of one of the former conquerors of their planet, and Dukat
repeating his threatening demands.  Sisko didn't know which
was worse.  He had to live and work here, near Bajor, and so
Denry's threats were noisome; however, Dukat had a heavily
armed ship just sitting there, and could get more.  

In either case, Sisko was neither impressed nor intimidated. 
Merely very, very annoyed.

"The ruling clearly went in our favor," Denry said, from his
position at Myrh's side, in between her and the Cardassian
menace.  "You must turn him over to us."

"I will not turn him over to either of you," Sisko said firmly. 
"Any attempt to remove Garak from the station without proper
authorization in the form of a ruling against him will result in
action against that party by the Federation."

"We *have* a ruling," Denry protested.  "Your obstructionism
is the only thing keeping us from executing it."

"There is some doubt of the validity of that ruling," Dukat said
silkily.

"What do you mean?" Myrh asked, more open-minded than her
assistant, who would never have asked such a non-accusatory
question of a Cardassian.

"My intelligence staff cannot find record of the Starfleet
'captain' making that ruling.  Accordingly, the ruling is invalid,
and you have no legality in your favor.  Under the
circumstances, I believe I have prior claim to detain the tailor
for crimes against Cardassia."

"This is trickery!  Mere verbal sophistry!" Denry said,
outraged.  "The commander would never have allowed someone
to pose as a Starfleet captain!"

Sisko sighed inwardedly.  There was a loaded question.  And no
way to answer it without resort to lies and half-lies.  "The man
was a high-ranking spy," he explained.  "He was stopped by
your delegation," he nodded to Myrh, "while in costume for his
next assignment, uncovering a plot I can't reveal the details of. 
Under the circumstances, he and I thought it best to allow the
deception to stand, to avoid pulling his mask off entirely."

Dukat sneered at him.  "You would never reveal the identity of
a high level operative like that.  It just renders him visible to us. 
It's a lie."

Sisko shrugged slightly.  "You don't have to believe me.  Q, as
he is called, is involved in internal Starfleet affairs.  Revealing
his position is irrelevant under the circumstances, although I
would ask that you keep this in confidence, so as not to affect
the investigation he is performing."

The lie was plausible enough under the rushed circumstances,
and even Dukat could not pretend to know all of the agents the
Federation might have in place at any one time.

"Is his judgment valid then?" Myrh asked.

Sisko stared back at her.  "No.  The fair thing to do would be
to hold another trial."

"There will be no other trial!" Dukat declared.  "Cardassia has
prior claim in this case, and we will have him or we will turn
this entire space station into rubble."

Sisko didn't appear to be frightened by that threat.  "Your ship
is in more danger where it is.  Or were you planning to blow
yourself up along with us in order to get at a man who you've
left here for years?"

Dukat's face got even harder.  "Before Bajor can get him, we
will.  You would be wise to pay attention to me."

"You *can't* pay attention to that Cardie barbarian!" Denry all
but shouted.  "He doesn't know anything but how to kill and
murder our people."

"Would you like a demonstration?" Dukat asked silkily.

Denry was on his feet now.  "You can't allow this kind of
insult, Commander!  You're no better than he is, allowing him
to make threats like that!"

Myrh stood up, skirts rustling.  "I'm afraid I must agree,
Commander.  Your handling of this affair has been less than
professional, and I feel it would be better resolved by speaking
with your superiors.  Good day."

The Bajorans left the office.  

Sisko looked at Dukat, not a trace of the way he felt showing on
his impassive face.  "If all you have is more threats, I don't
want to hear them."

"They're not threats, Commander.  They're promises."  With
that, Dukat left as well.

Sisko studied the wall opposite him.  Why did these things have
to happen to him?  He'd never wanted to be a diplomat, never
wanted to have to mediate discussions between two parties who
would never agree on anything.  And yet he was.  And he didn't
have any idea of what to do.

****

Garak had just wrapped Bashir's costume up and sent it off
when Q appeared.  He knew Bashir's measurements very well;
there was no need for the tailoring which would be required on
Major Kira's costume.  Garak wondered if Kira were aware of
the final fitting which would need to be done in order to make
her dress hang properly.  That should be an *interesting*
experience, to say the least.

Q appeared on the table, lying on his back, tossing a small
silver ball in his hands.  "What depraved thoughts," he said
reprovingly.  "I simply cannot believe how much of your mortal
brains are taken up with obsessing about reproduction."

Garak looked calmly at him, a small smile quirking the corner
of his mouth.  "Inter-species relationships are rarely successful."

"Oh, very good," Q said.  "The condemned man making one
last joke in the face of death.  Too bad for you that it wasn't
funny."

Garak didn't say anything.  There wasn't much he *could* find
to say to Q, although his trickster mentality was fascinating to
Garak.  However, Garak operated from a position of
powerlessness, which made it a different situation altogether.

Q rolled to a seated position, looking straight at Garak. 
"Enough beating around the cranberry bush.  You may think
you've escaped, but you haven't.  So far, Benjy has been saving
you from disaster, but he won't be able to keep you from being
torn to bits when Bajor and Cardassia go to war over you."

Garak tilted his head.  "Over a tailor?"

"For want of a nail, a shoe was lost, and all of that," Q said. 
"You have the power to stop it.  And if you don't, everything
that you know will go up in flames."

"I don't have any power," Garak said, a simple statement of
fact.

"Oh, but you *do*," Q said enigmatically.  "You killed seven at
one blow, didn't you?"

In a flash of light, he was gone.  The silver ball hit the table,
bounced twice.  Garak caught it as it rolled off the edge, hefting
it in one hand, as though checking it for weight.  With a shrug,
he put it down in a safe spot, then went back to his work. 

****

Denry strode into the little shop, furious.  "You are a coward!"

"Yes.  And on occasion, I serve as a tailor as well," Garak said,
"Can I help you?"

Denry stopped short and glowered at him.  "Your brainwashed
Federation goons took my weapons, but that doesn't make you
safe.  We *will* get a ruling against you, and you *will* pay
for what you've done."

"What I've done?" Garak asked mildly.  "I don't believe I've
ever even heard a actual charge brought against me.  In any
case, if your desire is merely for revenge, Gul Dukat is a far
better target.  He openly boasts about his acts, while I am
merely a tailor."

"Is this some sort of trick?"

Garak ignored him, a faint smile of amusement playing on his
face as he considered the smaller man.  "All I can conclude is
that you're going after me rather than him because you are
afraid of the Cardassian Empire."

Denry purpled.  "Are *you* calling *me* a coward?"

"Heavens, no.  Are you?"

Odo entered the shop.  "I heard that there was a visitor... Ah,
Denry Forte, how good to see you again."

Denry looked between the two of them, then stomped out
without another word.

"What was that about?" Odo asked.

"I haven't a clue," Garak said.

Odo looked at him, realized that there was no way he was going
to get anything else out of Garak, but couldn't resist making a
threat nonetheless.  "I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"How thrilling for you."

****

Hours later, the second important visitor of the day arrived. 
Gul Dukat disdained the security precautions outside, sweeping
through them, leaving his personal guard behind him to deal
with Station Security.

"Garak."

It was an order, not a request or a statement, and Garak heard it
as such, had issued such statements a long time ago.  "How nice
to see you.  I was wondering when you might drop by."

Dukat almost growled.  "For a coward and a spy, you are
overly confident."

Garak inclined his head.  "I do try."

"I want you to leave this place and return to Cardassia with me
at once.  Your position here has been compromised.  If you
remain here, you will be taken to Bajor as a prisoner, and we
can't have that.  Not with the knowledge you have, not with
your head still on your shoulders."

Garak considered Dukat.  Under the tailor's outwardly amused
layer, there was something stronger than steel, and Garak let a
little of that show now.  "You're the one who has given them
the idea that there's something to see by your demands.  There
is nothing to prove that I'm anything other than a tailor beside
your suspicious behavior."

Dukat studied him.  "They would not have made the charges
they did if they didn't know something."

"Suspicions, merely suspicions.  I've heard no actual charges. 
And I believe even those will be dropped shortly.  If you don't
ruin it all with your threats and bluster."

The urge to beat some of that insolence out of Garak was
strong, but Dukat controlled himself.  "If the charges are
dropped, I will leave you here."

"If you don't stop behaving like the biggest bully on the block,
the charges won't be dropped."  Garak pretended to be
interested in the sleeve of one of the outfits hanging near him. 
As if the thought had just struck him, he looked up suddenly at
Dukat, "You couldn't be *friendly*, could you?"

"Friendly?" Dukat's tone was suspicous.  "What sort of trickery
is this?"

"You have caused this situation with your suspicion of me.  If
you could give them a different impression... let them see that
there is nothing to be gained from me in the way of
information, they may drop their charges."

"I will take your suggestion under advisement."  Dukat's face
was cold.  "However, your plan will fail.  I look forward to
having you aboard on the journey back to Cardassia, tailor." 
He swung on his heel, and left the shop.

Garak stood there for a long moment, the rush of excitement
pounding through him.  It had been a while since he'd had the
opportunity to execute a prank of this magnitude, and he found
it exhilarating.

He needed to lie down.

****

"The Cardassians are behaving strangely," Kira said.  "I think it
means something."

"What's strangely?" Sisko asked.  "Have they made any
threatening moves towards the station?"

"No.  Exactly the opposite.  They're transmitting all
communications on *open*, and have taken to not wearing
weapons on the station, and according to Odo, have been
disparaging Garak as only a tailor while boasting of their own
acts against Bajor.  That's been causing a number of fights on
the Promenade, but since the Cardassians aren't armed, no one's
been killed yet, only injured.  On the plus side, most of the
injuries are occuring to Dukat's crew."

His comm beeped.  "Just a minute," Sisko said.  "Yes?"

"The Bajoran representative, Myrh Celd, would like to speak to
you."

Sisko nodded.  "On my way."  He looked at Kira.  "I'll get
back to you, Major.  For right now, contact Odo about limiting
the number of visitors from Dukat's ship.  No more than ten at
a time."

Kira nodded, already on her way to take care of it.

Once in his office, he took the call, expecting to fend off
another complaint from the Bajoran delegation about his
handling of the Garak affair.  He couldn't have been more
wrong.

"You're leaving?" Sisko asked, surprised.

Myrh nodded.  "The charges against Garak have been dropped."

"Dropped?  Why?  I mean, that's wonderful," Sisko said,
recovering himself.

"We've decided to prosecute the real instigator of the crimes
against Bajor.  I have received... advice which has spoken to
my conscience.  To single out an individual for the deeds
ordered and carried by a government is unworthy of Bajor. 
Instead, we will file a formal war crimes action against
Cardassia."

Sisko's jaw dropped.  "You'll do *what*?"

Myrh nodded.  "It's time we considered the real culprit here. 
Individuals committed the crimes, but the government behind
them authorized their actions."

"It'll never work," Sisko found himself saying.

Myrh looked grim.  "Give it time."

She closed off the communication, and Sisko found himself
sitting there, looking at the blank screen.  One problem solved. 
He couldn't believe it though.  Bajor?  Taking on Cardassia?

Before he could move to work on the other problem facing him,
the screen lit up again, with the person he most needed and least
wanted to talk to.  Dukat.

"We will be leaving now," Dukat said harshly.  Garak's advice,
however cowardly, had worked.  He had received word a hour
before that Bajor would no longer be pursuing charges against
Garak.  There was no reason to stay here any longer, especially
not now that the Federation had taken this opportunity to harass
his crew.  "Your bullying tactics have left my crew bleeding
and injured.  I have hardly enough crew to make it home.  But I
will remember this, Commander."

Bemusedly, Sisko found himself offering Dukat the services of
the Federation's medical staff.

"We do not need any of that.  My people are not weak like
yours.  They will live.  But you will rue this when next we
meet."

"I'm looking forward to it."

The screen went dark, and Sisko stared at it, feeling bewildered. 
What had just happened here?  Why were both sides all of a
sudden backing down?  Who was responsible for this?

Despite his curiosity, he didn't want to think about it too much. 
The tentative peace might go away if he thought about it.  And
it was just in time for the ball, too.

How fortunate that things had resolved themselves so well.  He
hadn't even had to see Q again.

****

Garak made a last few modifications to the outfit of clothing on
the tailor's dummy.  It was a truly magnificent garment, one of
his best pieces of work, he thought.  He twitched the material
up over the shoulder so that it draped correctly.  It could be that
this had been a waste of his time, that he had designed and
created the outfit for nothing other than display, but he thought
not.  The sheer arrogance of his prospective client would induce
him to show up, if nothing else would.

"Arrogance?"  The single word fell mockingly in the shop, and
Garak knew the client had arrived.

"Justifiable arrogance," Garak said, moving away from the
dummy in order to allow the clothing to be better displayed. 
"However, I believe I have created something here which would
better showcase that hubris."

Q looked the outfit over, noting the lines of it.  He could
duplicate it at any time he chose, now that he'd thought of it.  It
*did* suit him.  Slightly.  "Is this your idea of a bribe?  To
keep me from interfering in your life again?  Because it won't
work."

"More in the nature of a payment for services rendered."

Q looked sharply at Garak, as if to surprise him into another
confession, but Garak was placidity itself.  "You are a devious,
amoral scoundrel.  You thwarted me and you thwarted both of
them.  I am dumbstruck in amazement."

"Will that be cash or charge?"

-the end-