(no subject)
He really wasn't surprised to find himself restrained again. His oh-so-kind and gracious host held the disruptor pointed straight between Julian's eyes. "You are going to tell me," the Cardassian said in a voice far too familiarly calm, "exactly how you know my son's name. If I am satisfied with your answer, I may let you live."
His mouth was dry. He licked his lips and said, "My name is Doctor Julian Bashir. I am a Starfleet officer stationed on Deep Space Nine. You will find no records," he hastened to add as his captor's eyes narrowed, "of either me or the station, because neither of us exist yet. I won't be born for another hundred years or so, and I don't believe Terok Nor has been constructed."
"That's a Cardassian name." The other man held the disruptor steady.
Julian nodded carefully. "I come from another universe, as well. In my timeline, the Cardassian Empire occupied Bajor. Terok Nor was--will be--an ore processing station in orbit of Bajor. When the occupation ended, Starfleet took over operation of the station."
"That's all very interesting," Matthew commented drily, "but you haven't answered my question. How do you know my son?"
Julian considered briefly how best to answer the question. He somehow doubted that a response along the lines of He hit on me at the replimat during my second week on the station would go over well. "There is a Cardassian tailor living aboard the station," he said, "named Elim Garak. He is one of my closest friends."
"A tailor?" The Cardassian snorted derisively.
"An excellent tailor," Julian agreed, "which is not to say that his experience as one of the Obsidian Order's finest has not been extraordinarily useful from time to time, as has the fact that his father is Enabran Tain, former Director of the Obsidian Order."
"So you're telling me," Tain said slowly, "that you know my name and my son's because you are from the future, in a universe where my career has had the kind of success most men can only dream of, and that you just happen to be in my home through pure coincidence? Are you not, in fact, a Starfleet Intelligence agent, sent to infiltrate my household, flatter and seduce me, and gain valuable secrets of the Obsidian Order?"
"S-seduce you?" Julian spluttered. "You drugged me! How dare you accuse me of that, after you have held me hostage and..." Something in the other man's eyes made him lose his train of thought. He knew that look, too. It was the look Garak wore when he was quietly enjoying some private joke, often at Julian's expense. "You're teasing me," he posited.
Enabran Tain shrugged expressively, pointed the disruptor at the ceiling, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. "Your story is fantastic," he said, "but you'd have to be a special kind of stupid to lie to me with a disruptor pointed at your frontal lobe. You couldn't have known the actuator was depolarized."
It was as though a string snapped, so abruptly did the relief release the tension that held Julian stiff in his seat. He sagged back against the chair. "You were never going to shoot me," he said.
"Would it have changed your story if you'd known that?"
Julian shook his head. "Everything I told you is true. Once I realized who you were, I would have told you anyway." He paused. "I might not have told you that you will become Director of the Obsidian Order if you hadn't had a gun to my head, but it's still true."
Tain threw back his head and laughed. "I like you," he declared. "One thing you haven't explained, though. Why were you in that cave on Bajor?"
"I was trying to get home," he said simply. "The artifact your men looted from that cave is what brought me to this universe. I had hoped it would take me back, as well."
Tain frowned and leaned forward. "How does it work?"
Julian shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. My colleague was studying it. We haven't been able to clearly define how anything having to do with the Prophets functions. We've only been able to observe the effects."
"But you think it will be able to get you home nevertheless. Very well, Doctor. I will see about getting you access to that artifact."
His mouth was dry. He licked his lips and said, "My name is Doctor Julian Bashir. I am a Starfleet officer stationed on Deep Space Nine. You will find no records," he hastened to add as his captor's eyes narrowed, "of either me or the station, because neither of us exist yet. I won't be born for another hundred years or so, and I don't believe Terok Nor has been constructed."
"That's a Cardassian name." The other man held the disruptor steady.
Julian nodded carefully. "I come from another universe, as well. In my timeline, the Cardassian Empire occupied Bajor. Terok Nor was--will be--an ore processing station in orbit of Bajor. When the occupation ended, Starfleet took over operation of the station."
"That's all very interesting," Matthew commented drily, "but you haven't answered my question. How do you know my son?"
Julian considered briefly how best to answer the question. He somehow doubted that a response along the lines of He hit on me at the replimat during my second week on the station would go over well. "There is a Cardassian tailor living aboard the station," he said, "named Elim Garak. He is one of my closest friends."
"A tailor?" The Cardassian snorted derisively.
"An excellent tailor," Julian agreed, "which is not to say that his experience as one of the Obsidian Order's finest has not been extraordinarily useful from time to time, as has the fact that his father is Enabran Tain, former Director of the Obsidian Order."
"So you're telling me," Tain said slowly, "that you know my name and my son's because you are from the future, in a universe where my career has had the kind of success most men can only dream of, and that you just happen to be in my home through pure coincidence? Are you not, in fact, a Starfleet Intelligence agent, sent to infiltrate my household, flatter and seduce me, and gain valuable secrets of the Obsidian Order?"
"S-seduce you?" Julian spluttered. "You drugged me! How dare you accuse me of that, after you have held me hostage and..." Something in the other man's eyes made him lose his train of thought. He knew that look, too. It was the look Garak wore when he was quietly enjoying some private joke, often at Julian's expense. "You're teasing me," he posited.
Enabran Tain shrugged expressively, pointed the disruptor at the ceiling, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. "Your story is fantastic," he said, "but you'd have to be a special kind of stupid to lie to me with a disruptor pointed at your frontal lobe. You couldn't have known the actuator was depolarized."
It was as though a string snapped, so abruptly did the relief release the tension that held Julian stiff in his seat. He sagged back against the chair. "You were never going to shoot me," he said.
"Would it have changed your story if you'd known that?"
Julian shook his head. "Everything I told you is true. Once I realized who you were, I would have told you anyway." He paused. "I might not have told you that you will become Director of the Obsidian Order if you hadn't had a gun to my head, but it's still true."
Tain threw back his head and laughed. "I like you," he declared. "One thing you haven't explained, though. Why were you in that cave on Bajor?"
"I was trying to get home," he said simply. "The artifact your men looted from that cave is what brought me to this universe. I had hoped it would take me back, as well."
Tain frowned and leaned forward. "How does it work?"
Julian shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. My colleague was studying it. We haven't been able to clearly define how anything having to do with the Prophets functions. We've only been able to observe the effects."
"But you think it will be able to get you home nevertheless. Very well, Doctor. I will see about getting you access to that artifact."