TURMOIL
By Mimi

Codes: K/Du
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: Best to think of as an alternate universe, after the end of the Dominion War, probably after the end of the series!
Summary: Absolute romantic mush, prequel to "Mellowing". Kira & Dukat get to know eachother further a few years on. This is a present to my special friend Tess.
References: Online: Joseph Creighton’s site: Star Trek Ships: Expanded, Gul Maket’s Guide to Cardassia, Federation Databank and its links.
Disclaimers: The Star Trek Universe and the characters who populate it belong as ever to Paramount/Viacom; what they do once they enter my imagination is their and my responsibility. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profits realised. Some new colleagues of the characters and concepts are mine.
Thanks: to all those previous authors who introduced and elaborated on various aspects of Cardassian & Bajoran biology, physiology, behaviour, and language. Thanks especially to those many authors of such Reptilian Romance classics eg people such as Eva A Enblam, Kira-Nerys, Laura Taylor, and others too numerous to mention here (exclusion from this list is merely because of lack of space). I have borrowed Kardassi phrases used in more than one fanfic story which probably originated in fanfiction. Not to mention those that gave me the courage to let these characters go do their own thing. Last but not least, my trusty beta readers.

CHAPTER 1

‘The sound of Cardassian armor being dropped from a man’s shoulders must be the most erotic sound in the universe’, thought Kira.

And that unforgettable scent some described as burnt sugar-and-temple-incense, tasted, rather than smelt, at the back of one’s nose, the most arousing scent of all.

Together, they filled you with anticipation, hinted at the prospect of complete sensual satiety.

Then, would come that voice. In love, unlike the public persona, it became gentle, low, and spoke only in one or two phrases; then it would change, become broken in a low moan, a sigh of satisfaction, and then your ears became attuned to the softer sounds of lips kissing flesh, scales caressing skin, the faster, shallower breaths.

A heat would arise in your groin as his finger slowly traced up one arm from a hand, slowly travelling over the sensitive inside of an elbow, and up, ever up…

When his hands began stroking her both from behind and from the front, she would wake, shuddering and contracting, her slick wetness seeping out between her thighs. Her heart would be pounding, and she would sit up in bed, torn between the pleasures of the dream and intense desires, and self-loathing that made her skin crawl, anger and hatred that had to be directed somewhere.

At the moment, it was directed at him. Easy to be angry at someone who wasn’t even there, someone without whom this would never have happened and was therefore responsible – wasn’t he? And who could satisfy those desires – and yet, who had just waltzed off the station without any forewarning, no communication and hadn’t been in touch for five days, already.

Five days – when he’d told her that the almost physical dependence they’d experienced for eachother resulting in something approaching an addiction-like state, would result in withdrawal symptoms after three or four days.

Well, if she’d doubted him before, hoping it was just a figment of his fevered imagination, or perhaps a delusion, a residue of his previous mental imbalance, she’d been proven wrong.

Another reason to be angry.

She spent her sleeping hours dreaming of being with him, her waking hours thinking of him. She woke feeling exhausted, her appetite gone, she couldn’t concentrate, and other people – an intrusion into her daydreams – irritated her. It showed.

Never tolerant of other’s shortcomings, she snapped and harangued at anything anyone did – and found herself pressing back tears of frustration as she herself made mistakes, dropped objects, and generally made a fool of herself. No wonder that wretched counselor, standing in for Ezri while she was away, had taken her aside. He didn’t really need to be Betazoid to see she wasn’t herself!

‘Look, obviously I don’t know you from before, but I can tell already that you seem to be…under pressure…and your work performance at present isn’t matching with what’s on your file.’

Great. Typical male. Confront first. But there was nothing she could argue about. He’d obviously taken the trouble to check her file; he’d be unprofessional if he hadn’t.

‘I don’t have to talk to you’; she spat out, as the counselor raised his hands against the fury emanating from her.

‘I never said you had to’, he muttered, and paused a while, trying to read the emotions. Anger, hurt, hate, all the negative emotions. He physically stepped back, watching, as she visibly tried to control herself. The Bajoran faces were quite easy to read, thank goodness, so that as a Terran he could tell when she was ready to hear him without immediately becoming defensive.

‘Look, it’s my job to try to help deal with anything that might affect an individual’s performance. I can take you off work if I feel the need, as well. Wouldn’t it be easier if you just talked to me, rather than making a public statement about whatever is bothering you?’

Prophets knew, she needed to talk. The only person that would know what she was going through, and whom she could talk to, was an interested party, and had also made himself unavailable. She couldn’t – didn’t want to – speak to her friends. She couldn’t bear the thought of even Dr Bashir finding out, and as for Ezri – there was too much of her old friend, Jadzia, in her. Why not someone who wasn’t even going to be here on the station for very long, anyhow?

He watched her shoulders sag, as she thought it through.

‘Alright…When?’

~~

She wasn’t comfortable sitting in that counselor’s office, but on the edge of her seat she was at least still. Manu could sense her need to let go, but it wasn’t easy for her to start. She said as much, then stopped.

‘Perhaps you could start by telling me what you’re angry about.’

She was silent for a long time, but that was easy to deal with. He simply waited her out.

‘Him. And me. The situation. And…most of all, him.’

‘Him?’ <Oh, great, a lover’s tiff> he thought to himself.

‘Your…ah…lover? Partner?’ he tried.

Kira flared up like a small exploding sun. Nothing one moment, eruption the next.

‘It’s not what you think. We haven’t just had a…. quarrel, or something.’

He schooled his face, rapped himself over the knuckles mentally, hoped he hadn’t antagonised her too much.

‘Perhaps you’d better tell me what exactly we’re talking about?’ he invited.

She sighed, then stood up.

‘I’m going to walk around’, she stated, and proceeded to pace up and down.

‘Know anything about Cardassians?’

‘Well, I’ve never had one as a client, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Not exactly. Ever heard of "bonding"?’

‘Er…yes, in different species, but I’ve only had general information.’

‘Right. Well, you presumably know it takes place at a brain receptor site.’

‘Yes, the receptor sites on an individual becomes modified to best fit another individual’s pheromones, and the brain imprints the information.’

‘Correct.’

‘If I understand what you’re trying to tell me, someone’s bonded with you.’

‘Worse. It seems it’s a two-way thing. I’ve also bonded to him.’

‘I wasn’t aware Bajorans bonded.’

‘You’re right. They don’t. But Cardassians do.’

Manu’s jaw dropped, the full implications finally hitting him. He could sense the turmoil in Kira’s soul, and realised he only had a dim inkling of what he had let himself in for.

‘You’d better start at the beginning’, he said.

She continued to pace, talking to the floor.

‘It’s actually very simple. He’s the embodiment of the Cardassian Occupation, the symbol of everything we Bajorans hate about Cardassians. I’ve spent my whole youth dedicated to eliminating him. Then, when they withdrew, and I became the Bajoran presence here, I found myself coming across him more and more. Seeing more sides to him, and having to deal with him more. The Dominion war came and went, and suddenly, despite all odds, we were working almost as equals. Then, one day, I foolishly give in to my physical needs. Three nights later, I’m hooked. Except, I didn’t know it, then. When he finally told me, I’m livid. Just when I get around to wanting to talk to him about it, he disappears! Just up and goes!’

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she wouldn’t let him see. She had tried to make it out to be almost amusing, but it was anything but.

‘Let’s get this straight. We’re talking about…?’

‘Yes.’ She turned, and looked at him. ‘Not just any old Cardassian, it has to be him, doesn’t it. Dukat.’

She spat out the name with so much venom, he didn’t need to be empathetic to recoil.

CHAPTER 2

‘How, in the great Prophet’s armpits, did I ever get myself into this one?’ Kira thought to herself, as she gazed into the blue eyes of her old enemy.

‘Oh, treacherous, sensuous body, it was all your fault…’ she scolded herself.

They were at one of the now fairly-frequent diplomatic functions where representatives of half the galaxy’s inhabitants seemed to have to be seen at.

A minute earlier, she had found herself, fortified by glasses of Bajoran Spring wine and a new Garak gown, trying not to laugh uproariously as Legate Dukat, the Cardassian liaison, murmured hilarious facts and descriptions of various Alpha Quadrant dignitaries in her ear. He had previously promised to ‘show her the ropes’, as a seasoned diplomatic function-attender, the upshot being that he had gravely told her he would do his best to ensure that she was not overawed by those gathered there.

Overawed! She’d have a hard time ever speaking to them in an official capacity after listening to him!

Somehow, he had found some scarce glasses of the vintage Terran Champagne – apparently de-rigeur at celebratory functions – and he’d made her stand in an unobtrusive corner while she tasted, then drank, the stimulating sensation of fine bubbles tickling her palate. Suddenly, a mouthful had somehow got itself up her nostrils, and, startled by her expression and the gasping noises, he had started to pound her back.

By the time she’d regained her breath, the pounding had turned into a finger, slowly, sensuously trailing from the nape of her neck down her bare back, making her shiver; then the whole hand, large, warm and powerful, pressing her against him. She had looked up at him, then, her body wanting more, and when he bent to kiss her in an exploratory way, her hands had reached out to caress the chest ridges through his formal tunic.

That had been their undoing.

A cloud of his pheromones seemed to envelope her, and his mouth had descended again on hers with barely suppressed urgency, gentle in touch, but aggressive in action, tasting her, drinking her, invading her, possessing her.

She was aware of the muscles tensing under her hands, known without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to crush her to him, but the hand on her lower back held itself immobile, paradoxically a symbol of the immense will needed to control his impulses.

It promised so much.

She would not have broken their hastily whispered arrangement to meet afterwards if a garrison of Jem’Hadar had been in her way. He’d come to her quarters within minutes of her arriving there herself, and they’d not needed to say anything before they clutched, naked, without much finesse, at eachother. She’d been impatient, but afterwards, grateful, when he’d paused to explore her neck and throat and breasts, caressing her back and rounded hips, before touching her intimately with so much knowledgeable certainty that she’d astonished them both by climaxing, still standing in his arms. Panting, and leaning against him, she’d recovered her presence of mind enough to try to repay the favour – but all she could remember from somewhere was something about his neck ridges. She didn’t seem to need to do more, though, than lift her arms round his neck, when he bent his face to hers, rubbing his cheek and jaw against hers, then encouraging her to sit on the floor with him.

Typically forthright, she told him.

‘I don’t know anything about…how to please you.’

‘It doesn’t matter’, he smiled at her. ‘It’s fine.’ He watched as her hand crept to his erection. She had always heard stories of how well-endowed Cardassian men were. The truth was, it was not so much the overall dimensions that were so impressive initially, as what happened as arousal progressed, often after entry itself.

The Terran cobra, when about to strike, is said to unfurl its hood as warning. In a Cardassian, the innocent-seeming hood would open with arousal, helping to reveal the erectile ridges along the lateral aspects of the shaft which, as tumescence progressed, and as ejaculation became closer, became more engorged and prominent, darker, and began pulsating slowly, allowing the secondary seminal ducts carried within them to fill further with pre-ejaculatory seminal fluid.

She gently touched, fascinated, then looked up at him, seemingly embarrassed at displaying curiosity.

‘It’s fine’, he encouraged her. ‘It’s natural to be curious.’ He was wondering about her previous experiences with Cardassians, pretty sure she’d had at least one unpleasant sexual encounter with a soldier during the Occupation. He watched, willing himself to be still, as she ran a finger over the ridges, then up and over the hood, obviously enjoying the silky sensation of the lubricant he was generating.

‘Does it please you?’ he teased her.

She looked at him again, then down, a faint blush appearing.

He thought he understood.

‘I assure you, you’ll be ready.’

When he recognised the trust in her eyes, directed at him, his chest felt as though it would constrict with emotion. He pulled her closer, began caressing her, murmuring endearments to her, waited till she was lost in sensations, then gently inserted a finger in her vagina to be sure.

‘Ah, beautiful Nerys, you’re so wet. You’re definitely ready.’

He carefully laid her on the floor, and, rubbing his jaw ridges around her face and neck, thus stimulating more release of his pheromones, he proceeded to penetrate her slowly and surely, stopping to watch her expressions as he did so. There was a bad moment for him, when he thought he would have to push too hard at her tight opening, but she suddenly relaxed just enough to allow him to slide in, and before too long, they were moving rhythmically and enthusiastically together to inevitable mutual satisfaction.

It seemed to her later that they had spent the whole night making love, mutually satisfying eachother, then discovering that they were ready for more. She decided that it was immature to count the number of times, but she knew she’d vaguely wondered whether there was any limit to a Cardassian male’s virility, certainly he didn’t seem to be without his erection for very long. And as for herself…She had known Bajoran females were capable of multiple as well as sequential orgasms, but she’d never had the opportunity to explore that potential in herself, before.

She rationalized it the next day as an aberration, the result of the never-to-be-repeated excitement of a long-anticipated first encounter. Even if she’d suppressed the fact that she had been waiting for it, from herself. But, to her surprise, the second night was much the same, if a little less frenzied. They’d promised eachother they needed to sleep, so still aroused, they’d slept for a few hours, only to awaken, caressing eachother.

It was only after she’d asked him, laughingly, about his stamina the next night, that analysis kicked in.

‘I’ve never been like this before. I might have been able to as a teenager, but of course, I wasn’t in a position to test it…We Cardassian males can train ourselves to stop from releasing all the ejaculate, so we can climax again, but it seems I’m still aroused even after I’m empty.’ He smiled a little.

‘For that matter, I’d forgotten how…receptive you Bajoran women can be.’

‘Must be your pheromones’, she’d teased. ‘It can’t possibly be because you’re much better a lover than the others I’ve had!’

He’d looked at her with a mixture of pride and mock hurt, then.

‘Well, I couldn’t compete with Shakaar’s track-record – but, then, he never kept his women for long, whereas I…’

‘Don’t you dare start on that tack, Dukat!’

‘I have to wonder, though…’ He’d gotten thoughtful at that point, and then muttered, a propos of nothing, that he had meetings and functions the next three nights so that they’d not see eachother till after.

He’d told her of his suspicious on that fourth night. She had felt tense and keyed-up all that day, and the relief and release after they’d made love twice, had been immense.

He’d then carefully questioned her as to how she had felt, then told her that he believed that they’d become physiologically bonded.

The subsequent conversation had been most memorable for the antagonism it had elicited in her.

‘You’re deluding yourself.’

‘Just a product of one of your sick fantasies’.

‘Why do you have to spoil this, by turning it into some Cardassian perversion?’

He’d finally lost patience at that, and had icily departed, leaving her with a few statements ringing in her ears.

‘…suggest you look up some data for yourself.’

‘I didn’t wish this on us, either…’

and, then,

‘If you want me, I’ll be there as soon as you call me.’

~

She’d lasted another day, fuming, angry at what, precisely, she hadn’t been able to put her finger on. When their paths crossed, he’d treated her with such nonchalance that any who knew them could see that it was contrived. Fortunately, they’d had no official business to transact, that day.

Later, though, in her quarters, after waking from yet anther dream where his body had seemed to be there, eliciting shudders of pleasure from her again and again, she thought it through very carefully.

She’d been increasingly irritable and short-tempered, felt edgy and emotional. She kept daydreaming. She’d finally accessed some data on bonding, as it pertained to Cardassians, and found nothing which would make her confident that this hadn’t happened. She needed to talk to someone, and that someone had to be Dukat. After all, he knew exactly what was going on. She’d contact him in the morning, and arrange to see him. Having decided that, she felt as though a great burden had been lifted from her, and she slept.

Except, when she got to Ops in the morning and tried to contact him, she found his office unoccupied except for a recorded message. Thinking he was on his ship, she tried communicating with her – to be met with the station computer’s statement that the ship had departed. As she slammed her hands on the panel in front of her in frustration, Miles had looked up.

‘They scrambled and left within forty-five minutes of receiving some orders from Cardassia Prime. I had to get my maintenance crews’ butts and their gear out so fast, I’m not sure they haven’t still got some of them on board.’

‘Any idea when they’ll be back?’

‘Indefinite, I think I they said.’

Great. "I’ll be there whenever you call", indeed. So, not only can’t I talk to the only entity that knows anything about the situation, I lose my ‘fix’ as well. And then, look where that got me – mixed up with some young, fresh-out-of-Starfleet-Academy, do-gooder counselor who thinks he has an empathetic talent…

~~

‘You seem to have such a turmoil of anger, Colonel, that I can’t really believe it’s just directed at one person. Can’t you tell me a little about what you think you’re angry at?’

She sighed, irritated at his apparent denseness.

‘Can’t you see? For a start, he was the Prefect of Bajor. I hated him, he killed so many of my people, stripped our planet of its productiveness, destroyed my childhood, destroyed my family…’

Her breath caught a little on that, but she was not going to let him know about that.

‘Can’t you imagine?’

‘Yes, but Colonel, that’s all in the past, now, isn’t it? Or else, why would you work with him so amicably – or is that all an act?’

‘No…’ she admitted, slowly. ‘No, I started seeing him as perhaps being not completely evil after I was forced to work with him, not long after I arrived here on DS9. Things happened over the years, and I even ended up looking after his daughter for a while. It was easy to dislike him when he allied Cardassia with the Dominion, but even then, I had to work with him and saw glimpses of someone less...hateful. Then his daughter was killed, and he went off the rails. I could only pity him, then, and I can forgive the things he said and did when he was mad. As for his role with Bajor towards the end of the Dominion War – well, you’d understand.’

‘Once things settled down, and I began working as his counterpart, I really had started to see him as having possibilities. But, then, he springs this on me. It’s just so typically Cardassian. How dare he! I had absolutely no say in this!’

‘But…’Manu held up a hand…’Doesn’t it say here, in the database, that it’s not controllable voluntarily? You can’t just wish it to happen.’

‘Meaning, what?’

‘Meaning, he had no say in it happening, either.’

‘Maybe not, but you can’t tell me he’s not relishing every moment of it.’

‘Obviously, I can’t, no. But from what I gather, it can’t be very pleasant for him, either, on a starship somewhere out there.’

‘Unless he’s making the whole thing up.’

‘Yes, but if he is, why are you so unlike yourself?’

Kira fell silent, unable to find an answer to that.

‘Alright, Colonel, let’s just say he’s unlikely to have made the whole thing up, and it seems he’s not responsible for your condition.’

‘He is responsible. If he didn’t exist, it wouldn’t have happened.’

‘Colonel.’

‘Anyway, whatever happened to Cardassian discipline?’

‘Colonel!’

‘Alright, alright. So he didn’t make it happen.’

‘Fine, so what else are you angry about? Can it be because you know that it doesn’t just strike purely by random chance? It doesn’t just happen to a couple of total strangers, you know. There had to be some feelings on your side.’

‘Oh, no. Physical attraction, I’ll admit to. Nothing else.’

‘The data suggests you need some emotional content.’

‘If you do, let me assure you, it’s not on my side.’

‘No positive feelings at all?’

‘…Well, I didn’t hate him like I used to.’

‘Ah.’

‘Ah, nothing!’

‘I think we should move on to the next issue. You mentioned you were angry at "the situation". I take it you mean the condition you’re in?’

‘The "condition" I’m in. You make it sound like a pregnancy.’

‘Well, it isn’t a bad analogy, is it? To a certain extent, in both cases, your body is out of your control. Although one can agree to becoming pregnant, whether you do or not is dependent to a certain extent on external influences, obviously more so with bonding. Both conditions involve another party to a certain extent controlling the outcome. Need I say more?’

Kira thought a while, then nodded.

‘I wasn’t always that happy at the state of being pregnant. I guess I’m angry at my body doing things I can’t control.’

‘And, perhaps, because you feel that the control is to some extent in his hands?’

Kira looked into the distance, then, slowly, nodded, then sat down.

‘Most women in your position do resent being controlled by others, but you seem to resent it even more from him. Why do you think that is?’

‘I’m suspicious. I told you what he’s like. I wouldn’t trust him to put his rubbish in waste extraction. I don’t like the thought of him having anything over me.’

‘Excuse me, Colonel, you just told me you’d started working together fairly amicably.’

‘Look, I can work with someone but not like them. I’m sure you’ve had a similar experience sometime.’

‘But I didn’t simultaneously conduct a sexual liaison with them.’

Kira stared at him, her face expressionless. She then got up, and walked to the door. At it, she turned.

‘This is going nowhere. It doesn’t help my situation. I am not continuing to discuss this with you, and I don’t care what you do to me if I don’t. If I want to speak to a counselor, I will find one myself.’

The door whooshed shut behind her.

CHAPTER 3

When she stalked back to her quarters, she was still so angry that it didn’t immediately register that the lighting was more subdued than she normally ordered it.

‘Computer…’ she began, to adjust the light, when she was suddenly aware of a proud head in profile against one of the windows.

She stared, disbelieving.

‘How the hell did you get here?’ she finally rasped out.

Dukat lifted his chin towards her. She couldn’t see his features, but she guessed he was looking stern and forbidding, assessing her expression without any difficulty with his superior dark vision.

‘How welcoming, Colonel. On my ship, of course. Oh, and I took the liberty of using my old over-ride code to get in here.’

‘Nice of you to let me know you’re back. I hadn’t realised you’d gone, as you didn’t bother to tell me.’

‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Colonel. And it was meant to be a reasonably secret mission. I wished I could have sent a message to you, but I was concerned about security; and there was no time to find you to let you know.’

‘How do you think I felt, when I found you’d gone indefinitely?’ Her voice choked.

He bowed his head.

‘It wasn’t easy for me, either, Kira. Though I admit not having any idea of how long I’d be away, must have been very hard.’

Kira erupted.

‘Hard? Hard? You told me you’d be there when I needed you. When I finally work up the courage to talk to you, you’re gone. I thought you’d changed. You had me thinking you were considerate, thoughtful, concerned. I even thought you might care. Well, you’ve just proven you’re nothing but a self-serving, pompous, patronising, opinionated bureaucrat, with the mating habits of a Cardassian vole.’

Dukat had stood up during this, as Kira warmed herself up. Amorphous anger, a residue of her encounter with the counselor, swelled up inside her. When he stepped forward, she finally exploded.

He sensed it coming, rather than saw it, and moved just enough so that the small but powerful fist connected with his cheekbone. He rocked back, absorbing the blow. She followed with the other fist, low down; but his armor deflected most of that, and his handsred, one-time interrogator and torturer, would soon be eating out of her hand like a baby. She began to smile.

"Yes, I will gladly 'put in a good word' for you, Madred. In fact, I'll do more than that - I'll introduce you to Mario Carducci himself." Madred gasped. "But I can't do anything while I'm locked up here in what is evidently a cell." Madred made a dismissive gesture.

"We leave immediately. I will open a secret channel to the Carducci ship and you will arrange to have us beamed over. Does that plan meet with your approval?"

"Very much so," Mary nodded, then watched as Madred adjusted the controls of his portable communications unit.

"There - all secure. Begin transmitting." The tiny screen lit up, and at the sight of Dominico's distraught face, Mary felt two tears begin to roll down her lovely naturally-colored cheeks.

"Dominico! Oh Dominico, it was horrible. Susy lured me into some kind of trap." Dominico began to reassure her, but Mary went on, "And then they were going to have me tortured, but luckily the Gul they sent in to do it wants very much to meet all of YOU instead." Dominico's dark countenance brightened. "We need to be beamed off this ship before they begin to suspect anything here. Can you do it, sweetest Dommie?" Sweetest Dommie nodded and pressed a control. The instant he did so, however, the door to Mary's cell flew open and a disheveled and distraught Gul Damar had rushed into the room. Susy, in an attempt to bring him closer to Mary, had been filling his head with tales of Mary's unrequited love for him, her pleas and entreaties to him in her sleep, and her wish to have him cure her of her obsession with the Carduccis. Damar had, albeit slowly, recognized a golden opportunity for some female companionship when he saw one, and had left the dinner table in haste -

- Only to be swept up in the same transporter haze that carried both Mary and Madred back to the Carducci ship. The three of them materialized in a heap right in the center of Dominico Carducci's commodious bed, a tangle of arms, legs, and Cardassian uniforms. Mary yelped in pain. Damar was indeed heavy. "What are you doing here?" she shouted irritably, ignoring the amazed stares of the others in the room.

"I - I was - I thought you wanted to talk to me." Damar began to examine his surroundings.

"YOU? Why would I want to talk to YOU?"

"Your friend Susy said you'd always harbored a fondness for me." At this, Mary quickly glanced over at Dominico, but he didn't seem to be listening.

"FONDNESS for you? Well, I admit you're kind of cute in a stolid, Al Gore-sort of way, but..."

"You let me sit on your lap. You even encouraged it." This Mary could not deny, and this time, Dominico DID begin to take note. Mary began to blush, when luckily the door slid open and all eyes turned toward the man now entering the room and smiling as he rubbed his hands together with delight.

"Mary! So good to see-a you back, my child!" Mario Carducci beamed. "And Gul Madred! Welcome! Welcome to my humble home! And who might THIS be?" he asked, smiling and indicating Damar.

"This is Gul Damar, Mary's boyfriend," Dominico glumly answered. Mary glared at him.

"Gul Damar... Gul Damar. Ah yes, I remember! You're played by an actor named Casey Biggs; is that right?" Damar nodded, suspicious. "There's something I always meant-a to ask you. Why is it that, when you play Damar, you purse your lips out that way - yes, just like-a you're doing now - yes, look, everyone! Gul Damar make-a the funny face!" He began to laugh delightedly, as the rest of the room joined in, all except for Damar, of course.

 "They're gone."

"WHAT?!" Susy shrieked, her mouth full of lettuce leaves.

"They're gone, I said," Garak patiently answered. "Gone. Mary, Madred, AND Damar. All gone. All taken back to the Carducci ship, no doubt, all because YOU said there'd be no need to raise our shields to prevent beam-outs."

"But I - I -"

"Don't bother, Susy. That pretty made-up face of yours conceals a bitter and a calculating mind. You've been in league with Mary all along, haven't you?" Susy was incoherent with terror. "You only pretended to want the attentions of Dukat so you could entice HIM into joining the Family, didn't you??" Susy again could not speak. Gul Dukat, the object of her most ardent desires, had risen to his feet and was regarding her with a mixture of horror and revulsion. "Well, you're going to get your wish. Dukat, have Susy taken to a holding cell till I decide whether to send her to the Carduccis dead or alive." Susy screamed in fear. "And while you're at it - get someone to wash her face, will you? Great Gul, but I miss Mary more than ever. If only I had been kinder to her - if only I had hidden my homosexual tendencies from her, that attractive, natural woman might still be here, hugging me and kissing me -"

"And ME," Dukat sadly sighed, twisting Susy's arms viciously behind her back.

"But instead, she's hugging and kissing Damar and those infernal CARDUCCIS!!" he roared, throwing Susy into a panic. "Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!!"

"Actually, the Carduccis might not be so bad," she timidly offered, but Garak slapped her hard across the face, causing her false eyelash to come loose and dangle ridiculously against her cheek. Even Dukat had to smile at the picture Susy presented, even while he allowed her to free one arm to repair the damage. Susy burst into embarrassed tears, when suddenly, the sparkle of a transporter filled the room and took one occupant away with it.

With one graceful movement, Susy flipped her dangling lash back into place. Her eyes widened with genuine alarm as she bravely blinked back a potentially mascara-melting tear.

"That is NOT my fault," she whispered, pointing toward the spot recently vacated by the supreme leader.

"Of course it isn't, my darling. In fact, everything is proceeding according to plan."

Susy frowned. What plan? And how could any successful scheme require that Garak smack her across the face?

Dukat smiled at her confusion. "When Garak and I stepped into the kitchen to 'consult with the chef,' we were really contacting Madred. Garak instructed Madred to pretend to defect to The Family... yet another victim of the vaunted Carducci charm. Hah!" He snorted in derision. "Apparently Mary was gullible enough to believe Madred, and the two of them beamed over to the Carducci ship. Madred exceeded our expectations. We didn't think he'd persuade the Carducci patriarch to beam Garak over for at least an hour or two. Madred must have established a force field around the room more quickly than we hoped. He and Garak are safely tucked away in the belly of the beast, with old Mario Carducci at their mercy."   Dukat shook his head, recalling Damar's fateful dash from the room.  "Damar was quite in the dark, but it all worked out for the best. Three faithful Cardassians are now poised to strike at the heart of The Family."

Heedless of the consequences, Susy allowed her eyes to fill with reproachful tears. "But why didn't you tell me about the plan? And why, oh why, did Garak hit me?"

"It was one of Garak's little jests, I'm afraid." Dukat pulled Susy close and kissed the tip of her adorable upturned nose. "He LOVES to accuse people of treason, stage a false execution, then, at the last moment, reveal the whole thing to be a big joke. Garak says it keeps everyone on their toes, but I suspect that it has something to do with the  deficiencies of his childhood. Garak was never able to please his father, and seeks to torment others the way he, himself, was tormented."

Susy was deeply moved. "I had no idea that pop psychology was as popular on Cardassia as it is on earth."

Dukat smiled fondly at her. "It is ubiquitous," he said simply. "Garak isn't cruel, he's merely acting out."

Susy nodded. How much happier they all were now that they realized they could justify their misdeeds! "Then what does Garak want?"

"He wants what we all want," Dukat answered. "What you've given me in abundance. He wants to be loved and accepted."

 Within two minutes of Garak's materialization, he and Madred had secured the Carduccis weapons and had tied Mario, Dominico and Mary to separate posts of Dominico's commodious bed. Within five minutes of the supreme leader's appearance, Damar realized that the Cardassians had gained the upper hand. Within ten minutes of said arrival, Madred began to suspect that something was going terribly wrong...

As he glanced around the bedchamber, searching for some kind of rope with which to tie the Carduccis, Garak's gaze fell upon the porthole's curtains. A most promising cord dangled from the curtain rod, but that wasn't what caught his eye. No, it was the extravagant swags and furbelows of the draperies that commanded his attention. The contrast between the austere, utilitarian architecture of the room and the florid exuberance of the curtains created a delicious tension, and revealed a surprising depth of taste in the heretofore-despised Italians.

"Fabulous window treatment," Garak muttered, seizing the cord and wrapping it around the Carducci leader's wrists.

"Thank you," Mario Carducci answered. "I selected all of the ship's furnishings myself."

"You obviously possess a passion for passementerie," Garak observed.  "I've never seen such a skillful use of tassels and braids. Silk threads, I presume?"

The Carducci patriarch looked pained. "Do you take me for a vulgarian? Despite our differences, Garak, I never expected you to insult me by suggesting that I would allow the use of polyester threads in my home!" Indignation brought a most becoming flush to the aging Italian's cheeks, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his feelings.

Garak inclined his head. "My apologies, Carducci. I meant no disrespect. By means of recompense, may I suggest that I loosen these shackles, and that we share a bottle of wine? Honorable enemies discussing the great gulf that separates their interests? What say you?"

"It is MY place to offer you wine and conversation," Mario argued.  "After all, it is MY ship."

"A most extraordinary observation, under the circumstances, but I take your point. Very well. You recommend a wine from that rack over there, and I'll have Madred untie you, while I open the bottle."

Forty-five minutes later, after a particularly spirited debate on the relative merits of Rococo and Federal embellishments, Garak and Mario discovered, to their joy, that they had barely scratched the surface of their shared love for the decorative arts. Damar sat glumly on the foot of the bed, gnawing on a hangnail. Mary and Dominico tried to communicate over Damar's bent head, silently rolling their eyes and twitching in what must have been intended as a reassuring fashion.

Madred fumed in frustration. When Garak spoke of striking at the heart of the Carducci family, Madred had envisioned a crossbow rather than Cupid's arrow. Was this all part of the supreme leader's scheme, or was Garak actually forming some unnatural attachment to his arch enemy?

 One thing led to another, and within twenty minutes of Garak's departure, Susy found herself in her favorite place in all the universe, Dukat's bed. Bliss ensued. Felicity reigned. While Dukat drifted off into an exhausted post-prandial, post-passion slumber, Susy hummed happily to herself, admiring her callous-free feet.

Joy rendered Susy forgetful. She forgot the time that her church choir director looked pointedly at Susy and announced, "There's something discordant in the back row." She failed to recall the time her sister compared her singing voice to that of Lucy Ricardo. She paid no heed to the memory of her mother admonishing her, "For God's sake, just MOUTH the words to 'Happy Birthday.' You'll scare Grandma."

"What IS that?" Dukat grumbled.

Smiling, Susy obliged his curiosity and broke into song. "Gonna find my baby, gonna hold him tight, gonna grab some afternoon delight... a-a-afternoon delight!" Then once more, for emphasis, "A-a-afternoon delight!"

Dukat sighed. "If singing brings you so much pleasure, perhaps we should retain the services of a voice coach."

"I thought you said I was perfect!"

"Better than perfect. Your voice is the one small flaw that prevents the jealous gods from smiting you."

Susy giggled. "I'd hate to be smitten BY the gods when I'm so happy being smitten WITH you."

Dukat smiled and drew her blond head to his chest. "What you lack in vocal talent you more than make up for in taste."

"I do, don't I?" Susy agreed, snuggling contentedly next to the man of her dreams.

Without warning, six shapes materialized on the bed. The soft mattress threw them off balance. A jumble of arms and legs, armor and Armani, descended upon poor Susy and Dukat. Mary's knees landed heavily on Susy's stomach. Dukat's keen reflexes allowed him to jerk away from danger just before Madred's posterior would have smashed his face. Dominico toppled off the bed entirely, while Garak and Mario sprawled across Dukat and Susy's legs. Only Damar remained solidly upright, one foot planted firmly on each side of Susy's head.

"Oops," said Garak. "It appears that I misprogrammed the transporter coordinates." He clambered off the bed, then extended a hand to help Mario up. "As I was saying, Carducci. I've never been happy with my bathroom fixtures. The room feels cold, inhospitable, and it lacks a certain je ne sais quoi."

"You need pink marble," Mario declared emphatically. "I tell you Garak, there is nothing like pink marble to soothe the eye, to warm up a room.  And the color is so flattering to the skin! There's a lovely pale pink stone from Cararra, but the deeper pink marble from Brescia would truly complement your Cardassian complexion."

"I will rely upon your judgment," said Garak, leading the way to the door. "Any suggestions you have for improving my quarters would be much appreciated."

"Statuary... and a chandelier... and potted palms... and cherubs," Mario cried, laying a hand on Garak's arm. "Garak, we will transform your rooms into a veritable palace. Lead on!"

"Papa, wait for me!" Dominico cried, then scampered out the door after his father, pausing only to blow a kiss to Mary.

Damar shrugged apologetically to Dukat, then followed his supreme leader and his mortal enemy out the door. Dukat signaled Madred to linger a moment.

"What is the meaning of this?" Dukat demanded through gritted teeth.

"Apparently Garak and Carducci have discovered that they are soul-mates," Madred whispered, his face revealing his shock and horror. "Carducci told Garak that he's always longed for a consort to help him rule his empire, and Garak simpered in response. He actually SIMPERED!" Madred and Dukat shuddered.

"Follow them," Dukat ordered. "Keep an eye on things while I plan our response to this misalliance."

As Madred hastened out the door, Dukat turned to Susy. "This is an appalling turn of events."

"Absolutely appalling," she agreed. "Pink marble and cherubs," she cried, mimicking Mario's effusions. "That is the most revolting example of nouveau riche, over-the-top, too-too decorating that I can imagine.  What's next? Silk flowers in Capo di Monte urns?" It was Susy's turn to shudder.

Dukat kissed the top of her tousled curls. "My darling, you are led astray by your excessively good taste. I was talking about Garak and Carducci's friendship, and the threat it poses to the balance of power in the universe."

"Oh," she responded in a small voice. Then she brightened. "I trust that your superior intellect and military experience will stand you in good stead. You'll come up with a brilliant plan to make everything right."

"Yes, I will," Dukat said firmly. He stood up and searched the room for his hastily discarded clothes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dukat pulled on his uniform. "I'll return after I consult with Madred and Damar." With another kiss, he left the room.

Mary and Susy were now alone. Susy studied her erstwhile friend. Mary was still crouched on the bed and she was unnaturally silent. A pang of guilt stabbed Susy. Mary looked dazed, slack-jawed, and downright goofy. Had Susy hit her too hard? In her noble attempt to save Mary's life, had Susy inadvertently damaged Mary's mind?

Mary finally spoke, her eyes large and glassy. "Susy, you were right!"

"About Dominico?" Susy cried, a rush of tears filling her eyes. "Oh Mary, dear Mary, have you finally come to your senses?"

"Huh?" Mary looked confused. With an obvious effort, she focused her thoughts. "No, not about Dominico. You were right about the frill. Oh my God!"

Susy smiled complacently. "Mary, ALL Cardassian men have one of those. How could you POSSIBLY prefer a Carducci to a Cardassian?"

"I love Dominico and he loves me."

Susy sighed. Talking to Mary was like trying to reason with a recalcitrant child. "Mary, don't you remember? You love Garak. You love Cardassians. Ridges. Scales. Think hard! Try to remember."

"Garak's gay, and besides, I think he's falling for Mario."

"That may be," Susy said patiently. "But you don't have to give up on all Cardassians just because Garak didn't pan out."

"I love Dominico," Mary stubbornly repeated.

"Mary, think about what you're doing. Do you really want to spend your life with Dominico? Running a pizza empire? Italian sausage every day forever and ever?"

"YES!" Susy recoiled from the force of Mary's shriek. "That's exactly what I want. It's what I was born to do."

"What about Garak?"

"I will always love Garak, but just not the way I used to. I'll love him like a ... like a..."

"Mother-in-law?" Susy suggested.

Mary scowled. "There's no need to get testy. But yes, like a mother-in-law, if that's what it comes to."

"And what about us, you and me. We were very good friends before this all started. If you go off with Dominico and I stay with Dukat, can we ever be friends again?"

"If Garak and Mario make peace and become a couple, we could all be one big, happy family."

Susy fell silent while she pondered Mary's words.

 The phone jangled and Susy quickly reached to pick it up, a pen clenched between her teeth, a small notepad on the counter in front of her. "Carducci's Pizza," she proclaimed with the ease of long practice. "Carry out or dine in?"

"Dine in," a familiar voice smiled, and Susy felt a flush of joy tint her makeup-free cheeks - makeup was forbidden to employees of Carducci's Pizza.

"Mario! You're in town!"

"Yes, I'm stopping by to see for myself how things are going in my number-one outlet on Cardassia Prime."

"Very well indeed," Susy beamed. "Mary and Dominico just supervised the opening of the one-billionth franchise on Cardassia Six today, and Damar is making the rounds of all the shopping centers, dressed as Pizza Man."

"What about Dukat? Is he blending in with The Family's goals?"

"Perfectly. In fact, he's spinning some pizza dough even as we speak. He says he can't believe how much like a Carducci he feels. It's as if he was born with Carducci blood in his veins."

Susy couldn't see Mario's enigmatic smile over the old-fashioned phone line. "Then everything seems to have worked out-a for the best." Mario's accent had returned as soon as Mary remembered to write it.

"Yes-a; I mean, yes, it has," Susy agreed. "And now if you'll excuse me, I have to deliver a pizza to Garak's table. I'll be looking for you later, Godfather."

"I will be there. Arrividerci, my darling."

"Ciao, Mario," Susy giggled, then hoisted the enormous pizza pan above her head as Dukat cautioned her not to drop it. "Don't be so silly," she chided him, "it's not as if I'm going to fall flat on my face with the thing. What do you take me for, a clumsy oaf?" Two minutes later, Susy had indeed fallen flat on her face in front of Garak's table, her face smeared with melted cheese, Garak solicitously helping her to her feet and asking her if she was all right. &pped behind to stroke along her back, then down to cup her buttocks; they were so warm. She reached out to put her arms around him, to feel the scales slipping against the skin of her palms as she stroked the small of his back, then down along the dorsal ridge.

The next thing she felt was of him picking her up, laying her on a couch, her knees apart over the edge, and tonguing her labiae. She cried out, startled, but could not reach down to him. Nevertheless, she pushed herself up on her elbows to watch as her lover gently explored her with his mouth, his eyes glazed with desire. She couldn’t sustain the effort for too long, though, the sensations from his tongue and lips making her tingle all over. Her hips moved, involuntarily, and she could no longer tell if the wetness was coming from her, or from his mouth. When she climaxed, she shuddered, trying to jerk away from his insistent tongue, but he caught her engorged clitoris between his lips and sucked, not too hard as to become unpleasant, but just enough to overwhelm her with sensations she’d never ever dreamt of.

When her wail, forced out of her by the intensity of her orgasm, and the flush across her chest and face had begun to abate, he slid himself up over her, noting how her breathing, slowing and deepening again, quickened as he dragged his slick, hard erection over her sensitised vulva and clitoris. She opened her eyes at him, smiled, and eagerly accepted his kisses, tasting herself there. He had begun to push his groin against hers, imperceptibly, almost as if he only wanted to maintain stimulation, not bring himself to completion yet.

She touched a finger to his jaw, tracing along the scent-producing ridges, watched as he closed his eyes and lifted his head, allowing her to stroke more firmly up to his ear, then down the engorged neck-ridges where she could tease each prominent scale with a fingernail. Hearing him groan, she pushed at him, whispering ‘I want to taste you now.’

He yielded, unable to resist, and rolled onto the floor. She had never been this assertive before.

Lying passively, feeling her hands on his stomach, he had to strain to stop himself from thrusting when she gently began licking, from the base, almost to the tip, round the hood, long strokes, paying particular attention to the ridges. When her tongue began to slide over the sensitive central area, his hands dug into the floor covering, and when her warm, moist mouth finally engulfed it, her lips and teeth closing on the tense ridges, he lost control, bucked his hips, and let his hands fly to her head. She raised her head, then, her mouth shining wetly, and gave him a malicious grin.

‘You bucked me off,’ she murmured. ‘Did you want me to stop?’

He could hardly gasp out a reply.

‘…No…Please…’

‘Please, what? What did you want me to do?’

He breathed hard. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of this glorious game for a long time. Part of him wanted her to continue teasing, knowing the pleasure, when it came, would be greater. Part of him wanted to come quickly, though he promised her silently that if he did, he wouldn’t empty himself fully, allowing him to remain erect and capable of pleasuring her with that part of him again.

‘I’m waiting…narai…’ she breathed the last, so softly, it was a whisper felt against the head of his erection. His hearing, not as acute as hers, made him doubt for a second whether he’d been deceived by wishful thinking. But the look in her eyes, so tender, and …yes…loving, convinced him. He sat up, lifting her up to his level, her use of the tenderest of Kardasi lover’s endearments filling him with so much emotion he couldn’t speak.

Did she know it wasn’t used lightly, without commitment? Did she mean it as he did, or had she only used it to please him, by using his words? He reflected that it didn’t matter, even as he lifted her onto him, then supported her back down, with his mouth against hers, moving his hips slowly against her, careful to stimulate her with his whole body, watching her expression, and matching his movements to her needs till she cried out again in abandonment, over and over again, contracting around him strongly, giving him the stimulus to come crashingly with her.

~~

He woke her gently the next morning, a steaming cup of raktajino in his hand.

‘I believe you wanted to be at the Third Order’s camp at daybreak, Colonel,’ he quietly murmured.

She struggled up, gratefully accepting the stimulant. He watched her fondly, clad in one of his nightshirts, the sleeves rolled up halfway. He felt warm when he remembered the look she had given him when he’d done that for her, over dinner. She looked at him now, over the brim of her cup.

‘How much time have I got?’

‘Forty-five minutes. You’d better have a shower, too, or there’ll be no doubt where you’ve been all night. The men aren’t exactly lacking in the olfactory department.’

She scrambled to her feet, heading for the shower.

When she got to the transporter pad, somewhat to her surprise, she found most of the crew there. She was even more surprised when she transported down with Tella, who asked her to wait while the others transported down. They were to escort her over to the boundary of the barracks, where the officer was called to have his insignia returned. He came with another, older officer, who spoke on the officer’s behalf, stating he regretted any offence made, and nodded, expressionless, to Kira, when she returned the insignia to him. All in all, he seemed a grudging, graceless and unrepentant brute, and she was actually very glad of the moral support ‘her’ men had given her. She hoped she wouldn’t have trouble with him again.

The rest of her time on Cardassia Prime flew by. ‘Her’ terrorists proved so effective and innovative, that they seemed to excel themselves in ideas about how to hound and irritate their foe, and she realised she had managed to imprint some of the resistance fighters’ philosophy into those disciplined, hard-nosed military men.

She regretted not being able to do more, overtly, with Dukat, but was grateful for the chance to observe him at work in his own setting. She saw a lot more that impressed her. Graceful and commanding, men seemed to have confidence in him, instinctively, and he was not nearly so pompous as she had thought his public persona was. She realised he had a political side to him, which possibly brought out what she considered his worst assets, but in a setting he was happy in, for example in intimate privacy, or amongst his own men, he usually dropped the irritating posturing.

Sitting alone, grateful for the cool of a mountain evening towards the end of the exercise, finishing her rations, he came and sat beside her for a while.

‘So unlike Bajor, isn’t it.’

‘Yes…You must be pleased to be here.’

He was silent for a moment.

‘As a matter of fact, I don’t really care for this. I find I prefer Bajor.’

She was astonished.

‘But this is Cardassia! I’ve always thought you were so loyal!’

‘So did I. Now…You see, I haven’t even got a family here anymore.’

‘What do you mean? What about your children?’

‘My ex-wife’s ordered that I not communicate with them. Some of them do, with me, but I haven’t told them I’m here, and when I leave, they’ll never know how close I was.’

‘That’s…barbaric.’

He smiled at that. ‘I suppose it is, in a way. It’s very sensible, really. Reduces social disharmony, keeps the number of hurt and disappointed people to a minimum.’

‘But just think how happy they –and you – would be if you could at least speak to eachother! It’s just a matter of picking up a communicator, isn’t it?’

‘Our people have a tradition of being suspicious of joy, as you know. And, actually I can’t just pick up a communicator and contact home. If I use a public channel, it will be logged, censored, and probably cut off.

Kira made an outraged noise, but he held up a hand.

‘I didn’t come to talk about that with you, Kira. I came to talk about your being here…How proud I’ve felt at working with you, seeing how my men respond to you, and how privileged I feel at having had your input.’

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, amused.

‘I appreciate your comments…Dukat. But they sound awfully stilted…and official… to me.’

‘You want the truth?’ his thin lips suddenly smiled, and she nearly leaned forward to touch them with hers.

‘I have a better idea.’ He rose, gesturing to the trail ahead of them. ‘Why don’t we discuss this while we explore the caves up there, just the two of us?’

She rose, not taking her eyes from him, and they left the camp together.

NEXT

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