Your Plain, Simple Tailor

I am the premier clothier on the Promenade, and I'm certain I can both recommend and inform you of the latest fashions and designs in the Alpha Quadrant...

Pardon? You want me to tell you of my past? My connections with the Obsidian Order? My reasons for being the only Cardassian aboard this station? Your questions make it plain you've been associating with my good friend Dr. Bashir.

Well, since knowledge of my history is open knowledge these days, I might as well give you my account of the many events that came to play in my life after Starfleet officers from the Federation came into my life. Warm, kind, and trusting, they would have been executed long ago were they in my former profession.

As you may have heard from other sources in and around this station, I have had some experiences in covert operations, sabotage, and other general spying techniques. The life of an operative is for the most part shadowy, but I enjoyed great prominence within my own circle and select officials in the government. I once was an elite of the Obsidian Order, the secretive intelligence agency that served only the purpose of the Cardassian Union. Since the fall of the Order, Cardassia is not quite what it used to be, but that's another matter altogether. The skills requisite to all Obsidian Order operatives combine that of uncompromising brutality and the artistic finesse, both of which I have in ample supply. In years past when I was younger, I had been more inclined towards the more violent aspects of the intelligence business. Interrogation of victims was my primary gift, and I had many opportunities to use it to the advantage of the Order. Living the highly stimulating life that goes so far beyond that of the ordinary Cardassian citizen came with a heavy price, but it was one I felt was well worth the rewards. I was right hand man to Enabran Tain, head of the Order in my time, and also my late father. The two of us wrested secrets from other governments, doing what we thought was in the interest of the empire we swore our allegiance to.
However, none other than my own father exiled me from Cardassia. His emotional and professional ties with me had made me too expensive for upkeep by his side and he believed that banishing me to the outermost realm of the Union would serve his purposes best. In 2368, the Central Command, then military government of Cardassia, sent me to formal exile on Terok Nor, a mining station situated as far from Cardassia Prime as Tain could arrange. It was a most ignoble punishment, but I would have borne the humiliation had anyone other than Gul Dukat lorded over me. In those days, he was still Prefect of Bajor and had far better connections than I had with the Central Command. Let us just say we had our differences in the past. His father and I were not on the best of terms, and so Dukat and I naturally grew to hate the other. When the Occupation of Bajor ended abruptly a year later, I did not retreat with the Cardassians, rather electing to remain on Terok Nor. It was not out of love for this Bajoran labor camp that I chose to do so, but simply because I had nowhere else to go to. Besides, I did develop a turn for the tailoring business and felt taking my chances with the Bajorans and later, the Federation, would be far more preferable than facing certain death and condemnation on Cardassia Prime.
Fortunately for myself and my tailoring establishment on the Promenade, the Bajoran Provisional Government hastily erected following the retreat of Cardassian forces enlisted the help of the Federation in station administration. The neutral and self-righteous Starfleet officers came aboard and permitted Promenade merchants such as myself to continue with our businesses as before. My good friend Dr. Bashir came aboard with the other Starfleet officers at that time, very noticeable for his starry-eyed look and ambitious demeanor. He possessed an intellect and humor that suited both of us very well, and our friendship has lasted. Maybe I had brought it upon myself to be a mentor of sorts towards him, because his naivety and optimism dismayed me. The universe is not a game, nor is it so bright and cheery as he'd like to think. He's learned well the past seven years. No longer so frank and trusting, he is hardened by the war and the deaths of so many people from his Federation.
Together, we have uncovered a plot between the Bajoran terrorist Tahna Los and the Klingon sisters Lursa and B'Etor, determined the true circumstances behind the adoption of a young Cardassian named Rugal by a Bajoran couple, and discussed the finer points of Cardassian literature over lunch. The doctor had some fantasies of being a spy for an agency of earth's past history, and I provided him with some useful techniques upon witnessing how laughably amateurish he was. He had no idea who or what I had been before my exile from Cardassia, and that was how I wished it to remain. No use digging up ghouls of the past to discourage young ambitious doctors such as himself. And at any rate, I wouldn't wish to antagonize such a heroic and just Starfleet officer who also happens to be my only friend.

Over a year after the Federation settled into Terok Nor, renamed Deep Space Nine upon their arrival, after another interesting luncheon with the doctor, I walked past three Cardassians whom I instantly recognized as important proponents of the underground democratic movement on Cardassia. The Central Command didn't look upon them too kindly, and it was my responsibility to report the renegades to authorities in Cardassia. Said authorities promptly sent a warship with Gul Toran to the station, who had already asked for authorization to execute the three political refugees. Toran offered me a chance to prove my loyalty to the Cardassian government by giving me the task of eliminating them, all the while strongly hinting at possible reversals of policy back on Cardassia Prime with regards to my exile. I took the offer happily, for though I was fairly well off at Deep Space Nine, it wasn't home, and I never developed skin thick enough to ward off the jabs from idiots such as Toran and Dukat about my status as an exile. So with full intention of carrying out this job, I intercepted Dr. Lang and her students at the airlock their ship was docked and took out my disruptor. At that precise moment Toran arrived on the scene, his purpose being to see whether I had lost my touch or my loyalty. His insufferable pomposity and my own personal feelings intervened on behalf of the rebels and I killed Toran instead. After all, I'm a patriot of Cardassia first and foremost, and a democratic Cardassia was and still is the only vision of the future I see. Constable Odo was taken aback by my show of support for a just cause, but it was not an act of sentimentality. It was for the future of Cardassia.

In 2370, I experienced severe mental disturbances from a cranial implant inserted back in the days of my service within the Obsidian Order. It had caused deterioration in my cranial nerve cluster implant circa, causing severe pain, headaches, dilating pupils, difficulty of breathing, and numerous other discomforting side-effects. The doctor had offered to take me into the infirmary when he became alarmed at my mental instability, but I refused with the furor of a deranged Cardassian, only to fall unconscious on the floor of the Ferengi's bar. Dr. Bashir soon discovered a legacy of the Order's harsh methods in the device Enabran Tain had all of the agents of the Obsidian Order implanted within the post central gyrus of the brain. With filaments connecting the device to his entire central nervous system, the device had meant to to be both a protection against interrogation torture and the possible disloyalty of agents within the order. It triggered an increase in endorphins and stimulated the pleasure centers of the brain, rendering physical torture useless against agents in the event of an interrogation.
However, the device was not designed for extended use, in all probability rigged to cause sudden death to those who had not replaced them, thus guaranteeing loyalty of agents to the Order. When I was exiled from Cardassia, I was wretched and idiotic enough to alter the device to emit a constant stream of endorphins to suppress the complete depression that had innundated me in the initial years. As time went by, my body became increasingly tolerant of the endorphins, and I lapsed into despairing loneliness again. Even worse, when it malfunctioned, I could not find the necessary materials to repair it with, forcing the doctor to remove the implant surgically when a buildup of toxins and erosion was found within my lymphatic system. Affairs did not brighten after this, as the doctor discovered that a change in the leukocytes cell structure was keyed to produce the toxins upon removal or damage of the device.
In a touching display of altruistic friendship, the doctor took it upon himself to pilot a runabout to Tain, who had retired from the Order into the Arawath colony. The doctor demanded information about Cardassian physiology and relevant information only Tain could provide to help me with my condition. Apparently Tain wanted me to live, in the depravity and humiliation of exile on a Bajoran space station, and gave the doctor what he asked for. The doctor also gleaned some knowledge of my past from this episode, for he had somberly asked me afterwards if anything I had told him was true. Ah, but why disappoint such a man with the truth. It is so unimaginative. The mystery and intrigue of euphemism suits him far better. As far as he is concerned, I have always been telling the whole truth, if somewhat colored.

In one of the doctor's missions alongside then Major Kira, they managed to find a mirror universe where I was gratifyingly portrayed as an officer of the Klingon/Cardassian Alliance and the first officer in command of Terok Nor under Intendant Nerys. In true form with my darker side, I had plotted to assassinate the Intendant and take control of the station, replacing the wanton with the much more pleasant Major. I used the doctor for a hostage to force the Intendant to relinquish command of the station, only the resourceful doctor escaped with Major Kira before any of this came about. Ah, the possibilities...

My first actions against the prerogative of the Obsidian Order occurred in 2371 when Major Kira was captured by the Order and given strenuous brain-washing treatment to convert her to the Cardassian cause. The Major had a memory of events that conflicted with archived records in an inescapable way. She traveled to Bajor in a truth-finding mission, but was intercepted by agents of the Order midway. My Obsidian Order counterparts had taken it into their heads to give Kira a complete cosmetic change into a Cardassian, then beat the idea that Kira was a Cardassian by birth but given cosmetic alteration to resemble a captured Bajoran rebel, the real Kira Nerys, in order to infiltrate Bajor on an extreme covert operation. That Legate Ghemor and the Order gave her so much attention made the Major waver in her strong beliefs and wonder. However, I assisted in my small way to the rescue party of Commander Sisko and company, by getting them past a Cardassian patrol that insisted on boarding and searching the ship. The Alpha Red Priority Mission clearance code really was a useful tidbit I heard from a customer in my tailor shop. Really. Ha, but it is pleasant to play at deception, even after all these years. The disguised Defiant made its way towards Legate Ghemor's house, where he and the Major were taken away. Sadly, I had to fire upon the overly tenacious operative Entek, whose dying words boded ill for me in the eyes of the Order.

Another time when my clearance codes came to good use was when a counter-insurgency program that was dormant in the systems of Deep Space Nine was suddenly engaged. The computer began a series of measures to contain what it perceived as a Bajoran uprising. As if the face of Dukat plastered all over station screens wasn't enough, he programmed a series of containment measures that would ultimately lead to the death of everyone aboard the station unless the clearance codes of authorized Cardassian supervisors were input to terminate it. Genial Dukat had rendered my codes ineffective for the most part. I could only travel alone through the various force fields, and precious little else.
Dukat in phase three of his program activated a gas agent that would kill everyone aboard save the officers in Ops. The most sensible thing to do then was to damage the life support to stop the gas emissions and plan our strategies with the buffer of 12 hours we'd get in return. However, Dukat, having nothing else to do apparently, also had a safe-guard against such a reaction, and a 2 hour self-destruction sequence was activated. I attempted to rewrite Dukat's clearance code, but that triggered a phaser-firing orb to appear in Ops, forcing everyone to take cover. At that moment, who but Dukat would beam into Ops and smile upon the desperate scene. Having intercepted an automated distress signal of his design, he lost no time to use his leverage to bargain for a Cardassian military presence on Deep Space Nine. Meeting a determined refusal, he attempted to leave the scene, only he couldn't. For all his fail-safes and levels 1-9 clearance codes, he did not know that Legate Kell himself had distrusted Dukat and made a trap of his own. Should the station explode and Dukat try to beam off, the Legate had arranged for systems to interfere with the escape and force him to "die like a Cardassian." So the leverage once again swung to the Ops officers, who with some help from a very ungracious Dukat, managed to contain the main reactor's explosion through the station's deflector shields, thus averting a catastrophe.

A Flaxian with a very transparent motive- to kill the Promenade tailor- had come aboard Deep Space Nine under the guise of a merchant. I needed the Flaxian arrested, as their reputation for efficient assassinations is well deserved. So I bombed my tailor shop. Of course it caused me tremendous grief, but what is a shop of cloaks and dresses compared to one's life? Constable Odo and Commander Sisko immediately investigated the Flaxian, while the doctor helped tend to my superficial wounds. Odo, thorough as usual, could not find conclusive proof connecting the Flaxian Retaya to the explosion, but all evidence had pointed his way. As it was his intention to terminate me, his ulterior motives were grounds for enough suspicion to have Odo place a transponder signal aboard his ship and follow in pursuit. Naturally I offered my services and accompanied him on his expedition. The trip ended abruptly when Retaya's ship exploded from a bomb that the Romulan Tal Shiar admitted responsibility for, citing crimes to the Romulan Empire as their justification. Odo, ever vigilant champion of justice, met with his Cardassian informant Gul Toran for leads to solving this case.
To his surprise, and my personal delight, five former Obsidian Order agents such as myself had all died within a day of each other. I knew and hated the five, hence my joy at their demise. Though each case looked innocent enough, an accident here, a health problem there, combined, they pointed to a very subtle and determined underlying motive. Then Odo sprang on me with accusations that I had blown up my own shop. I had known of the Constable's sharp wits and keen detective work, but certainly not so keen as this. He caught me temporarily off guard, and I admitted my involvement with the Order and the fact that all five deceased agents were close associates of Enabran Tain. That much and no further did I reveal. However, I was alarmed at the connection, fearing that Tain himself might be the unknowing target of the next assassination. I convinced Odo to take us to the Unefra System, where Tain kept a secret safehouse, hoping to bring warning to my "Mentor" in time. Before we reached the system, a Romulan Warbird decloaked and used a tractor beam to pull us into their cargo bay. Imagine my surprise and that of the Constable when Tain himself was heading the ship and the fleet we didn't see around us.
Tain apparently had grown tired of retirement and wished to relive the stimulating on-edge lifestyle of the Obisidan Order. He communicated with the Order's Romulan counterpart, the Tal Shiar, to hammer out a project of great importance to the survival of the Alpha Quadrant. Tain was after the Founders. A year ago, the Founders and their Dominion had already stirred great fear by their military power and unrelenting policies of universal domination. From the Defiant's logs, intelligence agencies of the whole Quadrant were already becoming increasingly nervous. Tain rounded up the finest of the Order and along with Colonel Luvok and his Tal Shiar agents, hoped to eradicate the Dominion threat completely by attacking the Founder's homeworld. Tain was also responsible for the demise of the agents whom he thought had too much knowledge of Tain's life and past. He used Romulan agents to bring about inconspicuous deaths to the unfortunate agents. Though I was among those he targeted, Tain offered me a position by his side, an offer I couldn't refuse. It meant redemption, glory, and perhaps the end to the bane of exile forever.

When the invasion force of 50 Romulan warships had become public knowledge, no one stopped the fleet, though every government head condemned it to keep up appearances. In truth, everyone was waiting to see what the outcome would be before making any moves. After all, the elimination of the Dominion threat is no small feat, and could prove to be quite beneficial for the security of the whole Alpha Quadrant. So Tain sailed through the wormhole with all of his ships unmolested. I was given the task of interrogating Odo to extract any information about the Founders we might find useful. Using a device the Order had created to prevent Changelings from shapeshifting, I had no fear of the Constable's power, instead concentrating on the task at hand. However, living amongst sympathetic humans so long has made me less well-suited to seeing the suffering of someone I know and respect hard to bear. Odo was deteriorating one layer at a time, his mass flaking away from the strain of taking on a fixed shape for an extended period of time. In the end I had to deactivate the device and let Odo go with only on statement uttered, "I wish to go home." Tain did not get anything useful, but then the Constable really had nothing to diverge.
When we arrived at the Founder homeworld in the Omarion Nebula, the combined weaponry of the fleet did not affect the life readings on the planet surface whatsoever. I saw immediately that they were false readings emitted from a transponder signal and that the planet had already been deserted. It was an ambush. Immediately, hundreds of Jem'Hadar warships came out of hiding and surrounded the comparatively insignificant fleet, ending the operation with total loss on the part of Tain and the Tal Shiar. When Odo and I were making our way out, Colonel Luvok blocked our passage. But he did not harm or impede with out escape, instead giving Odo a way out, saying, "No Changeling has ever harmed another." Then it dawned on both of us that this Colonel Luvok was none other than a Changeling that had brought about the whole fiasco. It was obvious Odo had not perfected the art of shapeshifting as the operative we saw before us did. No one could have known he was a Changeling. I had to leave Tain unconscious on the floor of the bridge when Odo pulled me to the runabout that the Defiant, phaser banks blazing, arrived in time to rescue us. Tain was presumed dead, and all I could do was mourn behind a mask of nonchalance.

The doctor had been playing at the spying business in the holosuites. I thought perhaps I might join him and give him a few pointers about what real spies do. So making a grand entrance, I went into the suite with the proper formal attire for Earth four hundred years back. What I saw was most amusing. My dear doctor and his charming valet were sharing a romantic moment of champagne and kisses, in a plush interior that reeked of overblown bad taste. He of course, acted defensively and asked me to leave, but I convinced him to allow me to stay and observe. We were stunned, then, to see Major Kira's form and face speak to us as a character, the Russian agent named Anastasia I believe. We both knew the Major never stepped foot inside a holosuite, nor would she pose for a holo-picture, so something certainly had to be wrong. It was then that Eddington informed us that Sisko and many officers aboard the Runabout Orinoco had their transporter patterns beamed out of the exploding ship just in time to store it in the holosuites. Kira and the other characters we'd soon see were actually the stored patterns of the bridge crew rescued out of the runabout only to be placed into a precarious world where killing and intrigue were the norm.
You had to be fond of the prospect, despite worries about keeping everyone alive. So the doctor and I played along with the charade. His suave debonair character looked more like an impossibly fantastic dream than it did to reflect the life of a real spy. The doctor was hurt at my suggestion that he wished to be a super-spy and hero of a program like this came from his deep despair of not being one in true life. We had our arguments, and the doctor bore my acrid observances remarkably well. To his credit, he helped save Sisko and the rest by some quick thinking and some help from myself. They were extracted from the holosuite altogether unharmed, leaving the two of us in peace to contemplate what might have been if the end didn't go according to plan.

Odo, Dax, and Sisko were aboard with me on a runabout returning from a conference on the Occupation. We never arrived back at the station, instead finding ourselves transported back into the days of the Occupation as Bajoran workers. Dax conjectured this was the result of a particularly anomalous plasma storm we had encountered on the way, but that didn't improve our situation. All four of us had to impersonate Bajorans, who in our later findings, were supposedly executed for an attempt on Dukat, who enjoyed abusing the Bajoran slaves of Terok Nor as much as he did on Bajor itself. Odo was nowhere to be found, despite his previous statements that he was already chief of security at the timeline we were in. His place was instead taken by Thrax, and other events came to pass to put doubt on what the Constable had said in reference to this time frame. Sisko gave me the job of researching our problem and finding a solution. This was a time my pickpocketing hobby came in handily. After seeing how much death and violence the Cardassian Occupation brought to the Bajorans, it was very fortunate we arrived back into our own time, awaking from a catatonic coma brought about by the plasma storm.

I had resigned myself to the decease of Tain, and vowed to move on in life, when a Tain's coded Cardassian Military message from the Gamma Quadrant came to my attention. It was none other than an urgent call for help from Tain! He had survived the fiasco at the Omarion Nebula, but he was detained by forces of the Dominion. I needed to rescue him, and tried to pass the message off as a planetary survey report with the doctor and Sisko, but I underestimated Dr. Bashir, who was waiting for me at the airlock of my transport. His distrust and suspicion of my earlier speech about facing reality and giving up on the defeated fleet back in Omarion suited him well. When I asked for his assistance, he refused, instead taking me to Sisko's office.
In a discourse with Sisko, I thought of the possibility of enlisting his help in rescuing Tain and other possible survivors, not to mention captured POWs from the New Bajor colony, and perhaps even Federation ships that had disappeared in Dominion territory. So I set forth to explain that the message was a code known only to Tain and Garak, one which they developed jointly. On it were the identification number and the word "Alive" repeated over and over again. Sisko allowed Commander Worf to accompany me on a strictly reconnaissance mission, though I had more in mind. A lot of objections were raised, from the doctor to my lovely friend Ziyal. How can such a charming girl come from Dukat? She must take after her mother. Her betrayal of affection for me unsettled me, because she was so young, but I enjoyed her company and the isolation of exile was less severe with her by my side.
Worf the Klingon had little to say and I found the long hours dragging, so I decided to practice my skills of deception. I notified him of my intentions to join Starfleet, with him as my sponsor. I had a letter already written that only required his signature. The Commander dismissed the idea as ridiculous but I pursued the interesting conversation some more. His refusal gave pointed analysis to my formal disreputable life as a spy, assassin, and saboteur, to which I replied that I needed only a chance to redeem myself, to start anew. "I think I can be quite an asset to Starfleet. With my extensive experience, I could skip the lower ranks entirely and begin my career as a commander. Maybe you could suggest that in your letter. Tell them you'd be honored to serve under me," I said. Then seeing the building fury behind the Klingon eyes, I laughed and explained my jest. Klingons just do not have a sense of humor.
Commander Worf was also meticulous in carrying out the orders of commanding officers. When he reached the safest distance from the message's location and wouldn't go on, I prodded his Klingon pride and Federation loyalty to go further. We hid ourselves, or so we thought, by traveling through a dense nebula, but when we dropped out of warp, a fleet of Jem'Hadar ships loomed directly ahead. We were as good as captured. The Commander transmitted a message of warning back to Deep Space Nine, but it was difficult to ascertain if it was completed before a quartet of Jem'Hadars beamed aboard and knocked us down. Commander Worf and I were taken to the unfriendly Dominion Prison, appropriately named Internment Camp 371. If there were 370 facilities like the place we were taken to, then the Dominion has many enemies indeed. The Jem'Hadar were violent and disinclined for conversation, but very much disposed to battle and bloodshed. Worf and I was led through the compound to a fighting ring that train Jem'Hadar for hand-to-hand combat with other races. On the way we saw a wounded Romulan, possibly a surviving member of the Tal Shiar fleet destroyed in Omarion. We went into a ring where General Martok was losing badly to a Jem'Hadar. When the First ordered a stop to the battle, Worf rushed up to the General and assisted him to his feet. He introduced Martok to me, who then pointed out Tain, who was lying on a bed within the barracks. Tain had thought I'd come to rescue him, but reprimanded me for having dull wits in being captured by the Dominion. For all that I've done, all that I've disregarded to come to him, that was all he could say. Tain never had a heart, but of all ironies, he was dying from a heart condition.
General Martok had been replaced by a changeling for over two years, and he related the story of how Tain transmitted his message by modifying life support to transmit a subspace message when Dr. Bashir, in the now outdated uniform, appeared in the barrack. Haggard and worn, he told us he was replaced a month ago when he was returning from a conference on Misam IV. "I went to sleep one night and woke up here," the doctor said. General Martok had a similar experience. All the while, Tain kept ignoring me, in life and apparently in death he will always be stubborn, heartless, and uncommunicative about his emotions. The doctor advised me quietly to see Tain while I still can, because he hasn't many days to live. We began with the usual conversation openers, him listing his enemies and I assuring him they have been dealt with. Then, as if in anticipation of his imminent death, Tain asked me to live, escape, and see that his vengeance is exacted. I would have done what he had asked, but I wanted him to ask me as a father to his son. All his life he's denied personal ties to me. In his words, I was a weakness he couldn't afford. We exchanged a few memories of my long past childhood, then he passed away quietly, suddenly. Emotions jarring my frame, I covered his body, and for all intents and purposes, my business was concluded, we must escape.

Not long afterwards, Deos, the typically despicable Vorta supervisor of the Internment compound, proclaimed all Cardassians were free to go, as Cardassia has officially joined the Dominion, making them citizens of the Dominion. All that is, except me. The last time I checked, I was a Cardassian, so I was fairly certain there must have been a mistake, until Deos informed me that I enjoyed the antagonism of the new head of the Cardassian Union, Dukat. Along with Doctor Bashir, General Martok, Commander Worf, and other non-Cardassian prisoners, I could only press on with my plans of escape through other means. The Commander was often taken to the ring where he fought with the Jem'Hadar for many rounds, ultimately tiring himself to defeat. The task of finding a way out of the Camp was left entirely in my hands, as only I had enough technical knowledge to readjust life support into a transporter that might beam us back to the runabout. However, the panelling was thin and very cloistered. I never understood why, but I had always been claustrophobic, and tight places such as the siding of the Internment Camp interfered with my work. However, I eventually managed to beam all four of us up to the runabout, happily in time to save Commander Worf from an ignoble death in the rings.
On our way back to the Alpha Quadrant, the doctor transmitted a message to Deep Space Nine immediately when we entered range, telling them of the Changeling impostor who was aboard. When we arrived back on the station, we found affairs at a very distinct state of disarray. Chancellor Gowron of the Klingon High Council has finally acquiesced to Sisko's request for a resigning of the Khitomer Accords, and the Changeling who impersonated the doctor was attempting to destroy the whole Bajoran System by making the Bajoran sun go nova. To make matters worse, Dukat was the one responsible for sponsoring Cardassia's entry into the Dominion and he has already allowed Dominion reinforcements into Cardassian space.
Commander Sisko and the Ops officers all scrambled to stop the Changeling from completing his suicide bombing plan. The Defiant flew out to intercept, but her weapons array were useless against the modified shields of the Changeling's runabout, so with a tractor beam and nerves, the Defiant dragged the runabout away from the solar mass, where the Proto-Matter bomb exploded safely.
As measures taken to buffet the increasing tide of Dominion aggression, Starfleet finally appropriated some vessels to protect Deep Space Nine and Chancellor Gowron appointed General Martok leader of the Klingon forces stationed here as part of the reinstated Khitomer Peace Accords. Dukat, as new head of the Cardassian government, broadcasted a message to Sisko telling him in no uncertain terms that he plans to take back everything Cardassia once had, and more. To quote his words, "The fight for the Alpha Quadrant has just begun." I can assure you he relished his moment of triumph to the full.

Chief O'Brien once needed Cardassian technology that could not be replicated on Deep Space Nine, and short of asking Dukat for help, simply wasn't available. So he formulated an idea to scavenge the recently abandoned Cardassian station, Empok Nor, of the same design as Deep Space Nine, for the spare parts. Cardassians are known for being hostile to unauthorized tampering with their equipment, even abandoned ones, and we regularly leave deadly traps for those who are fool enough to brave them. The Chief and the Captain invited me to go along as the "deactivator" on this mission, for which I was only too glad to oblige, since Captain Sisko had promised me a larger working space as compensation. The unwarranted trust for me and my work that had been increasingly alarming of late prompted me to advise the officers to do otherwise. Still, I suppose my charm still retains some of its potency. Gratifying.
The salvage team were about to seal their death sentence when they proposed to transport onto the station. Let it be known that any non-Cardassian transport beam would be immediately scrambled and dissipated if they tried to go onboard Empok Nor. Being the only person capable of making an entry into the station, I donned a space suit and cracked open an airlock on one of the upper pylons, powered on gravity and lights, then welcomed the team to Empok Nor.
Ensign Boq'ta and I were paired together to gather the equipment on what Chief O'Brien gave as a "Would Be Nice" list. I accidentally set my hands on an unknown biogenic substance shortly afterwards, and the Ensign accompanied me to the Infirmary. To my dismay, three recently reactivated stasis tubes were within, two empty and the one with a year-old Cardassian corpse. There must have been two Cardassians on the prowl around the station. I tensed with the knowledge of extreme danger that enveloped the station now.
Our runabout exploded in a great fury of flames, alarming the rest of the team to the hidden hazard roaming the station. The team converged in the Infirmary, where, after some discussion, the Chief decided to send a signal for help via a modified deflector grid. After reassigning the groups to the emergency task, the Chief, Cadet Nog, and I went to Cargo Bay 4 to begin modifications. Not long after, the deaths of Ensign Stolzoff and Pechetti at the hands of a vicious killer came about when the First Order soldier ambushed them. The unnecessary deaths of two junior officers and my own safety compelled me to set off and neutralize the threat myself. With a deep understanding of Cardassian military methods, I was certain I could quickly end the malevolent presence. Inside the infirmary, I created excessive noises to attract their attention. Sensing the approach of someone, I climbed into the damaged stasis tube and waited for the kill. When the Cardassian soldier entered the Infirmary, I leaped out and dealt with him swiftly. For some reason I felt the most unspeakable pleasure in seeing him die.
I picked up the emblem from the dead Cardassian's uniform, then scanned his body for clues as to why he was left behind alive. The tricorder indicated that he was a subject for an experiment that had gone wrong. Injected with a psychotropic drug to amplify the Caradassian xenophobe, the soldier and others like him would be savages, bent on killing any and all alien species they set their eyes on. I gave this information to the Chief, before picking my way to the remaining members of the salvage team, Boq'ta and Amaro. The remaining Cardassian soldier killed the Bolean ensign, Boq'ta, before I could neutralize him, but upon killing the soldier, I felt my hands tingle with the urge to draw more blood again. Ensign Amaro was agitated, but explained he was getting a flux capacitor for Chief O'Brien. I took what was on his hands, saw that it was just that, and stabbed him.
Having finished the job, I hailed the Chief over comm and talked to him about the game of Kotra and the amusing situation we were all a part of. Chief O'Brien had been "Hero of Setlik III" long before he became a Starfleet engineer. In that battle, he had killed hundreds of Cardassians, and I wished to see that this Hero met his doom. Of course I was under the influence of the same psychosis that had marked the two Cardassian First Order soldiers I had killed. However, at that time, all I knew was the gloating happiness of seeing blood pour from a victim.
I captured Nog to force a battle with the Chief, though my hands could just barely stay away from wringing the Cadet's neck. The Chief and I made an appointment on the Promenade. With Nog bound, I eagerly anticipated a bout with the Hero I had heard so much about. We placed our respective phaser rifles down, then hurled ourselves at each other. Enhanced by the adrenaline caused by the biogenic agent, I swiftly outmaneuvered the Chief and conquered O'Brien, whom I sneered at for no longer being a soldier. He agreed with me but before I could gloat my victory, he suddenly wrested the Cadet away and set down a comm badge. "I am an engineer," he said. I saw a brilliant spark, then darkness.
I regained consciousness in the Infirmary of Deep Space Nine, where the Chief informed me they had the materials at hand and the mission had been completed. Now lucid and out of the influence of the biogenic agent, I apologized for the grief I've brought to the ensigns' families. In hind sight, I realized then that I nearly died. "That was the plan," O'Brien replied.

Almost immediately after Cardassia formally joined the Dominion, heavy Jem'Hadar reinforcements had traveled through the wormhole almost weekly. The impending invasion loomed over all of the Alpha Quadrant, but particularly here in the front lines. The Romulans and the Tholians had signed a very damaging nonaggression pact with the Dominion, making the Klingon Empire and the Federation almost completely alone in the task of defending the Quadrant. Starfleet could not spare any starships to defend Deep Space Nine, leaving Captain Sisko the sole protectorate of Bajor and Deep Space Nine. The officers developed a plan to deploy self-cloaking mines in front of the wormhole, set to swarm detonate if triggered, effectively blockading the Gamma Quadrant shipments of Jem'Hadar, at least for a while.
The mining of the wormhole entrance aroused the ire of the Dominion, who sent their Vorta Weyoun to express their anger. Captain Sisko and Weyoun no doubt exchanged verbal volleys that never once touched upon the true nature of the talks: war. With Dukat and Weyoun together with a fleet of Jem'Hadar and Cardassian ships, the attack on Deep Space Nine came swiftly. The station sustained crippling damage, and when the Federation officers could do no more, mass evacuation of ensued. The Bajorans, under advisement from their Emissary, had signed a nonaggression pact with the Dominion, and therefor had to open their doors to the occupational forces. Before leaving the station, Captain Sisko delivered a moving speech and vowed to reclaim the station from Dominion control. I had nowhere to go but with the retreating Federation officers, since Dukat would never take kindly to my presence, and Cardassia was not an option.
The Defiant's mine-laying mission, commanded by Lieutenant Commander Dax, was completed just in time before the Dominion forces could stop them from activation. Captain Sisko and I beamed aboard the vessel as the thousands of mines disappeared behind cloak. The Defiant and General Martok's ship, the Rotarren, then left the system and merged with an immense fleet of Federation and Klingon ships.

Three months of slaughter followed our retreat from Deep Space Nine. All through it the Defiant and its crew led battles through what seemed like impossibly large Dominion fleets. Heavy losses on the side of the Federation were reported daily, an especially graphic example being the Seventh Fleet, from whose original 112 ships only 14 managed to survive destruction.
I settled into the bridge crew of the Defiant as an alternate helmsman, and saw first hand how very dangerous the Dominion was. If they conquer the Federation and Klingon Empire, over half of the space within this galaxy would be theirs. They must be stopped, but all the courageous efforts of Alpha Quadrant forces had done little to damage the offensives of the Dominion. At about that time, a certain Admiral Ross relieved Captain Sisko of command duty aboard the Defiant, instead assigning him to a mission to destroy a Ketracel White depot in the Alpha Quadrant. At first there was disbelief, without the cloaking abilities of the Defiant, how would they penetrate such a heavily guarded Dominion station?
The answer was to be found in the Jem'Hadar ship the Captain had salvaged last year. Using the vessel, we could travel incognito through the Dominion, with some caution and planning first, naturally. In a week, Captain Sisko and the bridge crew familiarized themselves with the design of the ship and its controls. The most obvious differences between Federation design and Dominion design is the total lack of comfort in the latter ships. There were also no viewscreens in sight, only two miniature viewscreens on head-sets for the Vorta supervisor and the Jem'Hadar First. Captain Sisko experienced the nausea of vertigo when he wore the head-set, therefor I volunteered, citing Cardassian compatibility with the design.
We came across friendly fire from a Federation ship that presumed we were simply another Jem'Hadar vessel, and to keep appearances, Captain Sisko ordered the crew to return innocuous fire in their direction, but the Starfleet ship did not give up until three other Jem'Hadar ships joined us. The cavalry never even bothered to hail us, to our relief, though it was most inconsiderate, even for Jem'Hadar and their supervisor.
We arrived at the Ketracel White facility, where we waited in line and observed the ship before us going through the process. I inputted a request for 84 canisters, which the facility acknowledged. Captain Sisko had a three minute time bomb initiated before we beamed the empty canisters down in exchange for the new ones. Scant time to escape and no room for error, for the bomb was built with the intent of total destruction. When we tried to leave the vicinities of the facility, the Jem'Hadar erected a security field around the ship and informed us to stand by. With less than three minutes left, we could not destroy in time before the bomb set off, but to survive we must move exactly in synch with the safety net, and outrun the detonation at the same time. Translated into action, it was the equivalent of attaining full impulse 0.3 seconds before the bomb detonates, to which Lt. Commander Dax acknowledged and carried out. We escaped the worst of the detonation, but the Jem'Hadar ship was engulfed in flames and we lost warp power, communications, and the weapons array. Dr. Bashir once again used his genetically enhanced mental abilities to calculate that with full impulse, we would need 17 years to reach the nearest Federation outpost. A grim thought not at all enticing.

As we limp through space, repairing what damage we could, two Jem'Hadar ships attacked our vessel, forcing the crew to make an emergency landing on an M class planetoid in uncharted space. Lt. Commander Dax suffered severe injuries during the turbulent attack and landing, but we were otherwise largely unhurt. From the ocean, we built a flotilla to carry the lieutenant, and all of us strained to reach the shore. We established a base in a cave nearby, where the doctor tended to the immediate emergency of the lieutenant and I was paired with Ensign Nog to find food and water, replicators being scarce at the moment. I amusingly observed how the Ensign always managed to fall behind me one step and his badly rendered attempt of disguising his nervous discomfort. When I confronted him with a demand for an explanation of his actions, he pleaded innocence until I asked if it was the result of that unfortunate episode at Empok Nor last year. The Cadet admitted that he would never turn his back to me again, a most admirable sign of maturity. There is some hope yet for the Ferengi in Starfleet.
While we were outside searching for necessary supplies, a group of Jem'Hadar decloaked themselves and held us hostage. They led us to another cave, where their Vorta lay on a stony surface. Injured and, by the pallor of his appearance, dying, Keevan was breathing his last. However, the Vorta still questioned Nog and I about our forces, numbers, and intentions. I tried duplicity, claiming I was a citizen of the Dominion captured by Federation forces. Then Keevan opened his hands to reveal the comm badge I pinned to my clothing. I was afraid he'd ask about it. Instead of merely executing us, Keevan asked if we had a doctor with us. I answered yes, knowing that would allow us much needed time to think of an escape plan.
The Vorta's eyes showed a gleam of hope and told his Jem'Hadar Third (The First and Second having both perished) to go alone and trade us for the doctor and Captain Sisko. They arrived later, and in the capable hands of Dr. Bashir, even the mortally wounded Vorta was healed. Keevan isolated Captain Sisko to discuss a most diabolical plan for self-survival. He had only one vial of Ketracel White remaining. The Jem'Hadar will die soon, but before they lay dead, they will rampage senselessly, violently, for days, during which they'd be sure to kill anyone they can. He proposed letting Captain Sisko murder the Jem'Hadar before the Jem'Hadar do. Betraying his own men to save his neck, what courage and valor Keevan showed. Captain Sisko naturally had second thoughts about the mass slaughter of so many men, and the indecision sickened me. Who but Starfleet officers would damage their own chances in war with unnecessary rules and regulations that do nothing but make the winning harder. In the end, uneasy though they might have been, we decided to wait in ambush as Keevan had planned.
When the Jem'Hadar came into sight, they were too weak to cloak themselves, merely trudging to a certain death with a weary obedience. Captain Sisko gave them one last chance at backing out of an impossible situation, but the Third, Remata'Klan, never swerved in his obedience to the Vorta's orders. Despite the logic of falling back and dismissing the suicidal orders of Keevan, "The Order of things," was all that the Jem'Hadar group gave concern for. This was what the Founders created the Jem'Hadar expressly for: blind subservience and obedience to the Founders and their Vorta. We had little choice but eliminate the Jem'Hadar as they rushed up the open valley, meeting their death face on. Keevan strolled nonchalantly past his dead Jem'Hadar without a care in the world. Now a Federation POW, he will spend the rest of the war in a comfortable holding cell. It was all Captain could do to restrain from shooting him outright. Compared to the nobility of the Jem'Hadar we had just witnessed, Keevan was inexcusably treacherous, quite admirably so, in fact.

Jake Sisko smuggled an encrypted message via Morn to the Captain to inform him of the developments on board Deep Space Nine. The mines were coming down, and the Captain must make a decisive move to stop the Dominion ships from pouring through the wormhole. He decided to take as many ships as he can gather from Starbase 375 with him to storm Deep Space Nine. Meanwhile, I was the subject of a debriefing, or rather, interrogation, by Starfleet Intelligence. Convinced that they would do what I had done in my days as agent of the Obsidian Order, I asked the doctor to scan for a cranial neural-transponder to see if he could extract it. When the doctor could find anything, I still had my doubts. However, the task at hand had even more at stake. As the Captain said succinctly, "Fortune favors the bold." We were soon to see how right the Captain was.

Alongside the 600 or so ships Captain Sisko had managed to gather, the fleet set off for Deep Space Nine, where twice as many Dominion and Cardassian ships were waiting for our arrival. Outnumbered two to one, Captain Sisko used a strategy of concentrating fire on Cardassian ships to goad them into breaking formation and coming after pursuit, opening a hole in the tight blockade. If a hole appears, all ships are to attempt to force through and make their way to the station. After a long bout of useless attacks, some Cardassian ships did create an opening, into which the Defiant and other ships flew through. Midway to the station, the Defiant suffered compromising damage, as our escort ships were destroyed one by one. In the end only we penetrated the blockade. However, we arrived too late to prevent the dismantling of the mines. They exploded in a chain reaction, leaving the wormhole entrance clear for passage. Grimly determined to fight till the last for the freedom of the Alpha Quadrant, the Captain turned his ship into the wormhole. In front of them the Jem'Hadar fleet closed in rapidly, and certain death awaited us all. The Captain seemed to be in a trance for a fleeting moment, and when he came to, the Jem'Hadar ships simply vanished without a trace from the wormhole.
Later I learned that the Captain had pleaded with the profits for the survival of Bajor and the rest of the free Alpha Quadrant. It was nothing short of miraculous, and the tremendous shock of defeat added to the news of two hundred more Federation reinforcement ships coming into range made the Dominion occupational forces evacuate the station immediately.
The Federation had recaptured Deep Space Nine again and had beaten the Dominion back to Cardassian space. The war swung in our favor, for the moment.

Everyday, new casualty lists are released, and the number of fallen has had a very depressing impact on the lives of the Starfleet officers who used to be cheery, comfortable, and optimistic before the war. Captain Sisko decided to end this senseless slaughter with an idea that was beyond the training of Starfleet, past the boundaries of their self-justified morality, and far more dangerous than anything Captain Sisko had done in his life.
The plan was to involve the Romulans in the war. At the moment, only the Klingons and the Federation were fighting the battles, losing ground more often than not. Captain Sisko thought rightly that if the other major power of the Quadrant were to join in the effort, the tides would turn with a vengeance. However obvious the eventual intentions of the Dominion, the Romulans were content to sit back and watch their neighbors' fleet deplete and territory corroded so long as they didn't suffer. To convince them to join would require very specific and incriminating evidence that indicated the Dominion's malevolent intentions against their Empire. I suspect that the plot had been formulating in the Captain's mind for a while, then the fall of Betazed, an important world of the Federation, served as the catalyst.
In good form, the Captain turned to me for assistance in obtaining compromising evidence against the Dominion. Unfortunately, whatever persons that could provide something along that line had all died, and there simply wasn't any forceful evidence in existence. However, there were other ways of arriving at a solution, and I didn't hesitate to point out the possibility of manufacturing our own evidence. In times of peace, I'm certain the Captain would have rejected my suggestion immediately, but these were no ordinary times, and he hesitated only slightly before he agreed it was the only path to proceed.
I contacted my sources for a Cardassian data rod, a very rare and strictly regulated item that records formal proceedings within the central government. It was almost impossible to find one that would pass the tests of authenticity, but I managed to find someone who was willing to trade it for a good amount of biogenic gel, something Starfleet regulates severely as well. The deal was struck, and our recording assistant, a criminal with shady roots, came aboard at the request of the Captain. Our sessions yielded rather good results, Damar and Weyoun were convincing with their mutual loathing, but the final test was whether the Romulan senator who'd come to meet with Captain Sisko was convinced of its authenticity.
Senator Vreenak, the Romulan responsible for the signing of the nonaggression pact with the Dominion, arrived secretly on Deep Space Nine. He unfortunately was not taken in by the data rod and threatened to expose the Captain to all of the Alpha Quadrant. Captain Sisko took this with fortitude, but he had lost heart and was ready to accept the condemnation of the whole Federation and Romulan Empire. Ah, how blinded the Federation is when the obvious solution is death. The same officers who could defeat a Dominion armada twice their fleet in number could not conceive of killing one person for the good of many many more. I knew Captain Sisko would do nothing to impede the Senator's departure, but I had no intention of giving up. It wasn't my style. I planted a Cardassian signature bomb on board his Bird-of-Prey, which exploded halfway back to Romulus. The Empire was insulted by what it perceived to be an attempt to cover up Dominion duplicity. The data rod, of strong Cardassian make, survived the explosion, and the flaws detected would naturally be attributed to the extreme conditions it was submitted to.
Senator Vreenak's sudden death and the data rod that pointed the blame to the Dominion had touched upon the fierce Romulan pride, and retaliation was swift. Many Cardassian border outposts suffered extensive damage from attacking Romulan ships almost immediately. For the life of one Romulan senator, one criminal, and the self-respect of a Starfleet officer, the Alpha Quadrant may be saved from destruction. I considered it a bargain.

The death of Lt. Commander Jadzia was so sudden a dream-like quality has pervaded it, though the events of her decease cannot be more starkly disturbing. It never felt believable that the woman we had all seen laughing about the Promenade would be lying in state the next, victim of a Pagh-Wraith that had possessed Dukat. Her symbiont, Dax, survived the ordeal, but only barely. Dr. Bashir had sent it back to the Trill homeworld when it suffered complications and needed an immediate transplant to a Trill host to survive. Ezri entered at this point, unwilling to join but even more unwilling to allow a symbiont to die, volunteered for the job. Afterwards, Ezri Dax came aboard Deep Space Nine as the new station counselor. One of her first professional business was to see me about my claustrophobia. I've always been ashamed of this weakness. For someone who was supposed to embody intelligence and ruthless efficiency, the fear of enclosed space was something to be kept hidden.
Imagine my impatience, then, as this slight girl presumed to penetrate my thoughts and cure me of a condition I'd sooner not discuss. Of late these attacks of paranoid fear had been especially severe. Perhaps it's my guilt creating havoc. I was, though I'd never acknowledge this to anyone, betraying Cardassia and killing many of my people by siding with the Federation. I was at odds with my own world and my fellow Cardassians. Even I had no justification for what I've done before. Even so, Ezri struck a chord in me with her naivetyand simple charm. She has no ulterior motive, no hidden secrets, no contrivance. How could I resist her "treatments"? In the future, I must resign myself to being relegated as a sick outcast spy.

So there you have my story. I've lived a full life. Meeting interesting people, engaging in stimulating work, and even fighting in an all-encompassing war within the Galaxy. Though this tailor is perhaps not so simple as I'd like to convey myself, I enjoy the moment, in whatever position or place. May you arrive at the same conclusion as well.

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