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From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
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Date: Sat, 5 Jun 2004 19:31:10 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW VOY/DS9 Cardinal Attractors 8/8 (J/G) [NC-17]
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Please see part 1 for codes, disclaimer, and warnings.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Cardinal Attractors, part 8/8
by Penumbra (c) 2004
----------------------------------------------------------------------


It took Janeway two days until she could sit without wincing, and
three more until Intelligence took Dr. Julian Bashir of Section 31
into custody. Reading through the report, Janeway was surprised to
find a familiar name in it. 

"Eugene?" she said into the intercom on an impulse. "Get me Commander
Annika Hansen on subspace."

Through the intercom came the sound of Ensign McNamara's
typing. "Commander Hansen of, uh, Daystrom Institute?"

"That's right."

"I'll get right on it, admiral."

When Seven answered, if she was surprised at Janeway's impromptu call,
she showed none of it. Dressed in a Starfleet science uniform with the
three pips of a Commander on her collar, she looked as impeccably
groomed and calm as she always did. 

"Good afternoon, Kathryn." 

"Hello, Seven," Janeway said, trying to keep her voice from
trembling. "It seems it was only yesterday that I last spoke to you."

"It has been fifteen months, eight days, and six hours since our last
communication," Seven informed her with a warm look that was in
contrast to the analytical nature of her words. She'd come far.

"Too long, in other words," Janeway said with a rueful smile. "It's
good to see you."

"As it is you, Kathryn. Was there a specific reason for your
communication?"

Always to the point, as Janeway had expected. Leaning her cheek into
her palm, she regarded the still young woman on her screen and felt
the pang of regret she'd tried to suppress ever since Voyager's
return. Then, as she did now, she had secretly thought it should've
been her and not Chakotay that would walk into a new life on Seven's
side. But that had not been the case, mostly because as it was with
Chakotay, her relationship with the former Borg was...complicated. 

"I trust you've heard of the espionage case in your group?"

"If you are referring to the arrest of our xenobiology expert, you are
correct. It has been a constant topic of conversation throughout the
day."

"Well, that's why I called. To see that you're all right," Janeway
said, feeling slightly foolish at her words. 

A frown line appeared next to the silver implant that rested above
Seven's brow. "Why should I be affected by security matters such as
this?"

"Oh, hell, I don't know." Janeway shrugged and decided to go for
honesty since it was really the only way one could deal with Seven. "I
guess it just gave me an excuse to see you."

"I am...gratified of your call, Kathryn. It gives me great pleasure to
see you." A ghost of a smile graced Seven's full lips at her
words. "While I do not long back to the Delta Quadrant, I find myself
missing our daily interaction."

"Same here. I know it hasn't been easy for you, ever since, y'know,"
Janeway said, waving her hand in the air. "Since we came back."

"My situation within my chosen collective has improved since we last
spoke." She paused and cocked her head in a manner that was painfully
familiar to Janeway. "I have much to discuss with you but alas, my
time is limited today. However, I will be on Earth for the Daystrom
Institute user group conference in nineteen days. Would you like to
join me for dinner during my time there, Kathryn?"

Janeway's heart skipped a beat in joy. "I'd love to, Seven. Dinner and
lunch and breakfast if you want," Janeway said and smiled. " I've
missed you, Seven -- or do you prefer Annika these days?"

"Seven of Nine still represents me more accurately than my given Human
name." 

"Seven it is, then. I'll see you in about three weeks."

Seven nodded. "I am looking forward to it. Good day, Kathryn."

"And to you, Seven."

With that, the viewscreen blackened and Janeway sat back with a deep
breath. Seeing Seven so alive and healthy did her a world of good but
it had also brought to surface emotions and feelings she thought she'd
buried long ago. Stomping firmly down on her case of 'what ifs,'
Janeway poured herself a cup of coffee from her thermos. Inhaling the
rich, oily fragrance, she tried not to think of how much it reminded
her of Garak.

Her intercom interrupted her jumbled thoughts with its customary
chirp. Setting her cup down on the coffee table, Janeway touched the
toggle. "Yes, what is it?"

"There's a, uh, a delivery for you, admiral," her assistant's voice
informed her through the comm system. "From the Cardassian
ambassador."

Janeway smiled, her eyes softening in remembered pleasure. "Speak of
the devil. Should I be calling the bomb squad, Eugene?" she asked,
humoured. 

"Ma'am?" McNamara's confused voice asked.

Janeway sighed and waved her hand in a vague gesture of surrender; a
sense of humour wasn't among her assistant's many admirable
qualities. "Never mind. Bring it in, whatever it is."

'It' turned out to be a flower arrangement of generous proportions and
when McNamara entered with it, Janeway rushed to help her hapless
assistant, who was unable to see from behind the greenery. "They're
Cardassian moonswain flowers, I believe," the ensign said as he set
the arrangement down on Janeway's desk. 

Janeway fingered one of the pale flowers. The petal was exquisitely
soft and shimmering with shades of silver and bronze, transforming the
bouquet into a complex work of art. "Beautiful," she murmured to
herself, transfixed by the alien flowers for a moment before turning
back to McNamara. "Please, get the ambassador for me."

"Right away, admiral."

It took only seconds until Janeway's comm chirped again to signify
that her connection was ready. Seating herself behind her desk, she
assumed a neutral if pleasant mien and activated the
viewscreen. Unsurprisingly, Garak answered her call himself.

"This is an unexpected pleasure, Kathryn," he intoned with his warm,
pleasant tenor. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Janeway eyed Garak's clothing -- or rather, lack thereof: he was not
wearing anything over his upper body that was gleaming with
moisture. "I hope I didn't catch you at an inconvenient moment?" she
asked while trying very hard not to stare.

"Oh, not at all. I was just coming out of the steam room." Garak
shifted his pose to a more attentive one and made a deferential
gesture with his hand. "So, how may I be dishonest with you today?"

Janeway cocked her head and smiled. "What makes you think I called
because I want something from you?"

"When people call, they tend to want things from me," Garak said. His
warm, intimate tone was rich with innuendo. "Much like when they
visit."

"I've no doubt," Janeway said, feeling heat blossom in her
cheeks. "However, this time I'm here merely to thank you. This
is...quite extravagant," she continued, gesturing at the arrangement
occupying half of her desk. "Extravagant, yet much appreciated. It's
not often I get such elaborate deliveries."

"Ah, the flowers -- when in Rome, do as the Romans do, yes?" Garak
asked with a humoured smile. "Even when the preference is dead
vegetable matter over more convenient media of communication."

"As you've so often noted, we humans do have our peculiarities."

"So you do. And speaking of such things, I read up on your Cardinal
Richelieu. My esteem for human ingenuity rose considerably -- he was a 
veritable font of admirable qualities," Garak said, and his delight
was obvious. "Any man who considers dissembling to be the knowledge of
kings is a man after my own heart."

Janeway snorted. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. But tell me
something, Garak, and for once without dissembling," she said with
sudden seriousness. "Why me?"

"Without dissembling? I'll do my best," Garak said, his enunciation as
careful as it was humoured. "My reasons were simple, really, mostly
having to do with garden-variety intrigue. I wanted to meet the woman
who captained a ship through unknown space for so many years -- an act 
of courage and certain character one can't help but admire."

"Your kindness propels me to hubris," Janeway remarked dryly,
flattered.

"In addition to that, there were various less interesting reasons. For
example, you are conveniently situated in the Starfleet pecking order,
you are known for your sangfroid and independence, and you just
happened to be in the right place at the right time." Garak paused and
cocked an eyeridge at her as he smiled a decidedly sybaritic
smile. "And finally because I enjoy but two things above all else:
power and beautiful things. You are both, *shel'kta*."

"I see." Janeway narrowed her eyes, thinking for a quiet moment until
she came up with a suitably oblique way of putting her
words. "Richelieu once wrote something I've always found to be an
intriguing philosophy," she said, leaning forward to catch Garak's eye
on the viewscreen. "He wrote, 'If you give me six lines written by the
most honest man, I will find something in them to hang him.'"

Garak's smile didn't waver an inch but a new kind of appreciation
shone in his eyes as he processed her words. "I continue to stand in
awe of you, my dear admiral," was all that he finally said and Janeway
almost believed his words. "I suspect I'll do so also the next time we
meet if such auspicious circumstances can ever be arranged."

Janeway smiled and this time, it was a genuine smile. If not in so
many words, Garak's tone had adumbrated that her warning had been
understood and accepted: the next time he would try to use her -- even 
if it was for altruistic purposes -- she would hang him out to dry. 

"I have faith in your considerable abilities to make it happen," she
said, and meant it.

"As do I," Garak said and stroked his chin ridge in a manner Janeway
found extremely lascivious. "I look forward to it."

Janeway smiled and nodded. "Godspeed, Ambassador Garak."

"And to you, Admiral Janeway." With that and his habitual nod, Garak
cut the connection.

After that, Janeway sat still for a long while. Her unseeing eyes were
on the Starfleet logo rotating on her screen as she thought of the
past two weeks and how it should've surprised her more that she didn't
feel any lingering malice towards Garak. However, when she was
ruthlessly honest with herself, she had to confess that she'd missed
the excitement of adventure and the adrenaline rush of embarking on an
emprise full of cerebral intrigue; in a word, she'd been in a
rut. Garak had pulled her out of it and right into a challenge of a
kind she used to relish during Voyager's exigent time in the Delta
Quadrant -- and best of all, it had been for the noblest of reasons:
love. 

Impulsively, she called up the Starfleet service record for
Dr. Bashir. 

Julian Subatoi Bashir, MD; salutatorian of his graduating class at
Starfleet Medical Academy; various decorations for courage under fire;
commendations for performance above and beyond the call of duty;
etc. Intrigued, Janeway dug deeper, speed-reading through various
reports that spoke of the young man in glowing superlatives. All in
all, the file was that of one of Starfleet's finest.

Janeway frowned. Given his stellar record, he should've been promoted
long ago, yet he'd held the rank of lieutenant (1st class) for over
ten years with no advancement. It just didn't add up.

It took her further two hours of reading through reports until she
came across one signed by a Captain Benjamin Sisko. It was a masterful
act of evasion and opaque language but it did manage to convey to
Janeway that all of Mr. Bashir's talents were not the product of
genetic happenstance but rather, of careful engineering. She called up
the service record photo of Bashir and found him to be a terribly
handsome man with glowing bronze skin and perfect smile. Looking
dapper in his black and blue uniform, he was gazing directly into the
camera with large, dark eyes Janeway was immediately envious of. She
really couldn't blame Garak for his obsession.

"You got the short stick, didn't you?" Janeway murmured. There was
something hard and unsettling about Bashir's eyes, as if he was
carrying the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders. "You got
betrayed by your parents and then rejected by us," she muttered,
tracing the sharp point of his cheekbone on the screen. "Nobody
deserves that."

She didn't know whether Bashir had volunteered for Section 31 or
coerced in some way but from Garak's oblique statements, she suspected
it was a bit of both. In a way, she couldn't blame Bashir for what
he'd done: he'd been rejected by the very system he had devoted his
life to serving and only because of something that had been done to
him without his consent. When Janeway tried to imagine herself in
similar circumstances, she had to conclude that she'd be beyond
bitter, too. 

Spurred into action by that uncomfortable moment of self-lucidity,
Janeway called up the Security status report on Bashir.

"Taken into custody, transferred to USS Titan for transportation...,"
she muttered to herself as she read. "Currently detained on Earth to
await court martial; preliminary hearing set for stardate 59789.4."

Janeway sat back, folding her hands over her stomach as she
thought. Garak's words and the sonorous cadence of his voice were
still fresh in her memory, as was his adamant opinion that it was too
late for him and Bashir; yet, their lives seemed to be destined to be
intertwined. They were like two stars orbiting one another, bound to a
mutual destiny by indissoluble laws of nature. 

In a way, Janeway thought, Garak had saved Bashir from himself, yet
perhaps endangered him in new ways. The court martial would lead to
dishonourable discharge followed by a year or two spent in a
low-security penal colony -- not a bad deal, all things considered. It  
wasn't the jail time that worried Janeway, though; it was Bashir's
newfound uselessness for Section 31. They weren't the kind of people
that let former employees retire in peace and so he would obviously
need protection of some sort; however, as much faith as Janeway had in
Starfleet Security, the harsh reality was that Bashir wouldn't be a
high priority for them. No, in order to live he'd need the aegis of
someone with means to ensure his safety.

Janeway smiled as a plan formulated in her mind. Of course. The
solution was quite obvious.

"Eugene?" she said into the intercom. "Call up a shuttle from the
pool. We're taking a road trip."

"Yes, admiral. What should I log into the flight plan as our
destination?"

Janeway smiled. "Seattle," she said, glancing at the security
file. "Starfleet Detention Centre #5, to be precise."

"Uh, yes, ma'am," McNamara replied, incomprehension colouring his
voice. "When are we leaving?"

"Right now, Eugene," Janeway said patiently. 

"Yes, admiral."

When the intercom channel closed with a chirp, Janeway tugged the
front of her uniform to order, feeling rather pleased with
herself. Garak hadn't hesitated to use her and so she didn't hesitate
to reciprocate the favour, either. It needed to be done -- not only
for Garak, but for her own peace of mind as well. Like it or not, her
life was now intertwined with that of Mr. Bashir, too.  

"You're about to meet your *deus ex machina*, Julian Bashir," Janeway
muttered to his image before switching the display off. It was time to
go and educate Mr. Bashir with some new truths about an old friend who
was about to become a saviour to him. 


~~~ T h e E n d ~~~

-----------------------------
End of part 8/8.



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