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From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
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Date: Sat, 5 Jun 2004 19:23:13 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW VOY/DS9 Cardinal Attractors 2/8 (J/G) [NC-17]
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Please see part 1 for codes, disclaimer, and warnings.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Cardinal Attractors, part 2/8
by Penumbra (c) 2004
----------------------------------------------------------------------


Janeway smirked into her drink, pleasantly amused and surprised to be
in such good spirits even after several hours at the party. 

After the first eighteen or so rounds of toasts and congratulatory
handshakes, she'd sought refuge in a calm corner, leaned her shoulder
against a pillar, and decided to enjoy the party -- and to hell with
Starfleet celebratory protocol. She'd enjoy the spectacle of the crowd
that ran the gamut, from Ferengi ostentatiousness to Vulcan sobriety
in the sartorial sense and from Starfleet sobriety to alien
boisterousness in the behavioural. This was possible because while she
did loathe official Starfleet functions on principle, they did provide
ample opportunity for people watching. And what a group of people it
was -- aliens and humans alike -- that had gathered together for the
dual purpose of gossiping and celebrating the fifth anniversary of
Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant with all due pomp and
circumstance. 

The latter was especially well embodied by her perennial party
favourites, the diplomatic corps accredited to Earth. As Janeway saw
it, every diplomatic corps has its archetypes and she'd passed time by
picking them out of the crowd. 

As the clock approached midnight, her *dramatis personae* had grown to  
include various characters: the negotiator (Ambassador Baq'ke of the
Nausicaan Union); the nepotist with his sycophants (His Imperial
Highness Kshhrrh and assorted parasites); the softest son of a tyrant
(the Bolian ambassador, already three sheets into the wind); the
soldier promoted against his will (Ambassador Growan in all his
uncomfortable glory); the urbane seducer (the Cardassian ambassador
and his entourage); and so on, in endless variations of colourful
casting.

Momentarily, her eyes strayed back to the Cardassian ambassador -- the
latest addition to the mostly familiar faces that frequented the
official Starfleet party circuit in San Francisco. Janeway smiled,
pleased with herself for finding the perfect label for him so quickly,
even when it was because it was so very obvious what he was: a
sybarite. 

Indeed, Ambassador Garak of the New Cardassian Republic was a burning
black hole in the tapestry of monochrome Starfleet formalwear and
colourful alien ceremonial costumes. The ambassador's waist-length
hair was gathered in a thick, obsidian braid and threaded with pale
bronze ringlets that sparkled in the low light as he discussed
something in animated gestures with a dour-looking Starfleet
admiral. Next to the lustrous, gleaming midnight splendour of Garak's
outfit -- a long frock coat over a plastron starched to an inch of its
life and fitted trousers, all black and in what Janeway surmised to be
of Bolian silk -- the admiral looked uncannily like a member of the
waiting staff in his white jacket and black trousers with yesterday's
presses. 

Janeway mused that in these official functions, she always gravitated
towards the former soldiers and tried to avoid the sensualists but at
that moment, she didn't feel like talking to Growan and strangely
enough, she found herself fascinated by the Cardassian. She'd never
met him but was of course familiar with his credentials, both
diplomatic and otherwise. 

Oh yes. Sipping her champagne, Janeway eyed the young man standing in
rapt attention at Garak's side and smiled at her low mental
trails. The good ambassador had quite the reputation.

"There's something about Cardassians that still makes me feel uneasy."

Jolted out of her thoughts by the familiar voice, Janeway glanced at
her side and smiled. "Professor Chakotay," she said, her lips
twitching at the look of consternation on her former First Officer's
face at her address.

"Kathryn," he said, both warning and laughter in his voice. "Being
called a professor makes me feel ancient."

"How do you think 'admiral' makes me feel?" Janeway drawled and turned
back towards the throng. "You were saying something about
Cardassians?"

"If you had asked me ten years ago on whether I'd stand in the same
room with a Cardassian and hold nothing more lethal than a glass of
synthenol in my hand, I would've answered with a resounding no,"
Chakotay said and nodded towards the ambassador in question. "And
that's after I would've called you a collaborator and punched you in
the face."

Janeway smiled despite the stab of sadness in her gut. The note of
world-weary wonder in Chakotay's voice was new but not unexpected. His
face was as ageless as it had always been but ever since his divorce,
Janeway thought he'd been not quite himself. She couldn't really blame
him for he had lost so much: a home with the Maquis when Voyager had
been lost in the Delta Quadrant, a cause when peace with Cardassia had
been established, and a family when Seven had moved to Galor IV. 

"I'm glad you're not here to punch me in the face, then," Janeway said
and reached out to touch Chakotay's forearm. The man felt as solid and
warm as he'd always had, and Janeway knew to suppress her 'what ifs'
even before they'd taken full form in her mind. "Interesting times,
these are."

"With interesting people," Chakotay agreed and sipped at his scotch on
the rocks. "Uh oh. Speak of the devil," he added and cocked his head,
eyes focusing into the crowd. 

Following his gaze, Janeway saw that the Cardassian ambassador had
detached himself from both his companion and the admiral and was
making his way towards them. Grimacing, she glanced at
Chakotay. "We've been made, my friend." 

Chakotay grunted in agreement and drained his drink. "This is one
introduction I don't feel like enduring. So if you'll excuse me..." he
said, making a minute bow before retreating towards the thicker mass
of people. 

"Once a Maquis, always a Maquis, Chakotay?" Janeway muttered to
herself, not unkindly, as she watched her friend disappear in the
general direction of the buffet. 

Shifting her champagne flute from one perspiring hand to another, she
turned back towards the floor and plastered a bland smile on her
face. She caught the approaching ambassador's eye just as he managed
to yank his hand back from the grasp of the cheerfully intoxicated
Andorian ambassador who, judging from the vigorousness of his
handshake, had seemed intent on a Cardassian arm for a souvenir. 

When Ambassador Garak finally reached Janeway, the smile on his grey
face was far more benign than she could have managed under the
circumstances. "Admiral Janeway," he intoned, and his voice was a dark
tenor, all smoke and molasses -- not at all what Janeway had
expected. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your
acquaintance yet. I'm--"

"Ambassador Garak of Cardassia, obviously," Janeway said and took the
offered hand. She was surprised at how warm it was and with a mild
internal shock, she realised she'd never touched a Cardassian
before. "The pleasure is all mine, Excellency."

Garak's fingertips brushed the pulse point on the inside of her
wrist. "I do doubt that, my dear admiral," he said and let go of her
hand in what appeared to be great reluctance. "I take it my reputation
precedes me?"

"Only in the sense that one still doesn't see many Cardassians in
these parts," Janeway said and gestured towards the crowds. True to
her words, the only other Cardassians present were the three
dark-suited men of Garak's security detail; presently, they were
glowering at her at an unobtrusive yet strategically sound distance.

"Hm, yes. Here on Earth, it seems any member of my species is still a
bit of a novelty." Garak's smile turned almost impish. "Yesterday, I
even saw a wearable mask in a crude approximation of a Cardassian
face. According to the understandably embarrassed salesperson, the
mask should be bought in celebration of something called Hallowe'en,
if I'm not mistaken," Garak said at length and paused to regard
Janeway with a curiously evaluating gaze. "Bizarre, yet somehow
reassuring."

"Reassuring?" Janeway asked. The calm, languid quality of Garak's
voice was making it hard for her to concentrate on the small voice of
warning at the back of her head.

"Yes, that humans allow their offspring to wear the faces of erstwhile
enemies in the firm conviction that they won't be gunned down in the
streets by over-zealous if myopic defenders of the Federation. Such
faith in strangers is rather charming."

Janeway smiled and this time it was a genuine one as she finally felt
herself relaxing in Garak's company. His erudition was Cardassian yet
his manner not and so, it seemed that despite all the eclat --
controversial or otherwise -- Mr. Garak was not your usual
Cardassian. In fact, in addition to the usual adjectives of devious,
predatory, and loquacious attributed to his species, in the stories
that circulated the social circles he was often described as warm and
congenial -- descriptors Janeway was beginning to agree with. 

With the mild intrigue prompted by this discovery, she took a closer
look at Garak, who endured her scrutiny with the deprecating, aloof
patience of someone used to it.  In her scrutiny, Janeway could only
surmise that regardless of his unusual personality, the ambassador
displayed all the usual outward characteristics of his rather striking
species -- from the intricate fractals of scales and the faded pewter
sheen of his skin to the features curiously abstracted yet sharpened
by the ridges trailing the high planes and dark hollows of his face
and neck. 

Janeway leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "One could be tempted to
call the reappropriation of a controversial face for purposes of
amusement empowering, if not cathartic."

"Quite so," Garak murmured and twirled the champagne in his glass, his
voice turning softer. When he bent his head down closer to Janeway,
the shadows swallowed his eyes until nothing but the gleam of his gaze
was visible under his browridges. "Speaking of controversies, admiral,
it turns out we have a mutual acquaintance."

Janeway frowned, surprised, as she searched the crowd for Tom
Paris. She'd of course heard those rumours, too, but had thought
Ambassador Garak better versed in Human social conduct than to commit
a tasteless solecism by referring to such things in a public
setting. The sudden change of conversational direction baffled her.

"We do? I didn't realise that," Janeway temporised as she re-focused
on Garak, trying to figure out the true reason why he had approached
her. It was dawning on her that perhaps he hadn't done it merely out
of curiosity, but because of an ulterior motive. "Or do you prefer
Legate Garak?" 

Garak produced a thin-lipped smile that spoke of limited patience for
the universe in general. "Please, admiral. I'm so very tired of these
cumbersome titles. Do call me Garak."

The corner of Janeway's mouth twitched in amusement. The ambassador
was certainly not an average Cardassian if he eschewed titles. "Very
well, Mr. Garak."

"Just plain and simple Garak. At your service, admiral," Garak said
with a baroque flourish of his hand. A private smile flashed on his
face but it was so fleeting that Janeway was not entirely sure it had
been there in the first place. 

"Of course," Janeway said, amused despite herself. "And it's Kathryn."

"Kathryn," Garak murmured, obviously delighted, and the way he seemed
to taste the syllables of her name made something unusual and
unrecognisable yet not entirely unpleasant scale up Janeway's spine. 

"You said, a mutual acquaintance?" Janeway prompted and sipped her
champagne. Garak's answer almost made it go down the wrong way.

"Ah, yes. A one-time crewmember of yours I believe, by the name of
Seska."

Swallowing the champagne with haste, Janeway turned to fully face
Garak. "Seska?" she hissed, hearing the gathering storm in her
voice. The Delta Quadrant and those lean years were in her past and
many lightyears away, but she made a point of never forgetting
betrayal. 

"I of course knew her by a different name...and that was a long, long
time ago. Another life, in fact." Garak's tone was light and he
appeared quite unruffled if not unaware of her tone. 

"I'm assuming I'm the first of my crew to know this," Janeway said,
her words more a declaration than a question. 

"Yes, quite so. One would assume your crew and especially Mr. Chakotay
would not welcome information of this kind." The implied warning was
clear in his tone. "Elinia -- Seska -- is gone and so there is really
no need to elaborate on either her or my history with the Order."

"The Order? That would be the Obsidian Order, correct?" Janeway said
and made a mental note to read the ambassador's Intelligence file at
the first available opportunity. "Let me guess. You were
her...teacher? Mentor?"

Garak smiled and leaned in with a whimsically conspiratorial air about
him. "I would characterise my role as more of an overseeing one," he
said, voice smooth and slick like oil on water. He caught Janeway's
gaze and held it. "Elinia was quite the prodigy in her own, rebellious
way. Rather too independent-minded at times, though, and not as good a
tactician as we would've preferred. She was in need of a lot of
guidance, but at the end, she turned out to be a decent operative."

"Guidance," she repeated, lacing her voice thickly with sarcasm. She
lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Garak.  "Guidance you undoubtedly
provided. In how to deceive both the Federation and the Maquis? Or
maybe on how to ally yourself with enemies when it suits your
short-term plans?"

Garak waved his hand, brushing off her barely veiled accusations with
a nonchalant air about him. "Of such things, I know nothing. I was
merely an administrative overseer during the old empire, nothing
more. A government bureaucrat."

Janeway was certain his evasion was as false as the synthenol
champagne she had been drinking for the past two hours. She didn't
need to read the Starfleet Intelligence file on Garak to hear the
assured, practiced grace of his speech or see the barely visible map
of scars over his knuckles or notice how his constantly moving eyes
seemed to miss nothing and no-one. These things, almost unnoticeable
to anyone without a trained eye, spoke volumes to her. Ambassador
Garak was no mere civil servant.

As she studied Garak, Janeway wondered with absent curiosity how she
hadn't before noticed how blue Cardassian eyes could be. The colour
reminded her of the midwestern sky, all cornflower and freedom and it
made her think of Indiana -- an association she found amusing in its
absurdity. When Garak blinked and the nictitating membranes flickered
over his cornea, Janeway started out of her mental tangent.

"A bureaucrat. Of course," Janeway said to cover her startlement and
banished the absurd images from her mind. She glanced at her side to
see if they'd gathered eavesdroppers but none were obvious. "So why
are you telling me all this, Garak? Don't try to tell me you don't
have an ulterior motive, because you do."

In the minute pause before Garak spoke, Janeway could feel the almost
tangible amusement and appreciation in his companion. "My motives are
not nearly as nefarious as you obviously suspect them to be. I
approached you only because you appeared almost as bored as I was,
Kathryn."

The abrupt lightheartedness, unexpected after the eloquent evasiveness
Garak had previously affected, made Janeway smile. Whether it was out
of relief at the apparent deferral of ulterior motives for another
time or rueful amusement at Garak's ability to so effortlessly hijack
her attention, she didn't know. However, she was beginning to
understand the allure Ambassador Garak represented and how he'd
managed to accrue his not inconsiderable reputation as the liveliest
of the usually so staid diplomatic corps: with him around, neither
life nor conversation could ever be boring.

"Mr. Garak," Janeway said throatily, lapsing back into formal address,
"I'm willing to bet my reputation that your epitaph will have just two
words."

Garak waved his thimble-sized decanter under his nose as he thought,
and the gesture and his grasp on the glass struck Janeway as strangely
epicene next to the potent, masculine elan of his presence. "'Truth
incarnate,' perhaps?" he mused, that same cool smile on his lips again
as if his words were a private joke.

"No." Janeway made a deliberate pause, schooling her features to a
smug transparency. "'Plausible deniability.'"

The bronze ringlets in Garak's ebony hair jingled with a sharp discord
as he threw back his head and laughed. That laughter surprised
Janeway; it was rich and rolling, a thoroughly pleasant sound that was
generated somewhere deep in his chest, and it turned heads around
them. As she joined his mirth, the devil in Janeway was secretly
delighted at the spectacle they were making -- the star of the day's
proceedings standing scandalously close to a Cardassian, with both of
them chuckling in a manner that suggested not polite small talk but
off-colour remarks about everyone around them.

"I'll never stop admiring the human talent for succinct delivery,"
Garak managed as he recovered from his bout of laughter, a very white
smile still gracing his lips. "Not something my people are capable of,
I'm afraid."

"Ah, yes. Cardassian eloquence versus human bluntness. The cause of
several wars, I gather," Janeway said, feeling light-headed from her
mirth. 

"To say the least." Garak's eyes focused on something behind her and
he assumed a displeased mien. The change was quite startling; it was
as if the air around them was suddenly ten degrees cooler, yet not
quite as cold as his voice was when he spoke. "Alas, it seems I must
pardon myself from your exquisite company," he said, eyes slowly
moving back to Janeway. "Duty calls, in a manner of speaking."

Glancing behind her, Janeway saw that the intoxicated Andorian
ambassador had cornered Garak's young human companion by the bar and
was in the process of invading his space with persistence the human
found clearly unwelcome. She turned back to Garak and gave him a
lopsided, knowing smile. 

"The things we do for love, Garak?"

Garak's eyes flashed with something akin to intrigue. "I never
considered a Starfleet admiral could be such a romantic," he said, his
tone half tease and all flirt again. She caught Janeway's hand in his
and brought it to his lips for a fleeting moment. "Until we meet
again, Kathryn." 

With that, he turned only to disappear into the crowd in a brief
jangle of his hair ringlets and a swish of silk, gone as if he'd never
been there. In the air remained a lingering scent Janeway tried to
name but couldn't; it was the scent of black coffee and autumn leaves,
of old blood and spices from a dozen alien worlds, and it tickled her
senses. 

"Until then, Ambassador Garak," Janeway said absently and squeezed her
hand into a fist. She could still feel the burn of Garak's lips on the
back of his hand, that fading ghost of his touch that had been oddly
electric, and she had a feeling his parting words hadn't been a mere
empty platitude. 

-----------------------------
End of part 2/8.




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