"Homo Homini Lupus"

Man is often a wolf to his own people

Ancient Latin Proverb

Uia was clearly not pleased that the Federation doctor had returned. She folded her arms and stood at the open doors, leaning over the entrance frame. "May I help you?" she asked coldly, as though their relationship, as rigid as it had been, had never taken place.

"Look -" It was evident Julian Bashir would not be shut out this time. His foot was in the door, proverbially speaking as well as literally. "My friend is missing, and he was last seen here, as I recall. Now I want to know what it is you people are not telling me."

Mistress Uia smirked, then straightened up. She looked as though she was permitting the young doctor entrance into the orphanage once more. "You seem distraught, Doctor. I had no idea your friend meant that much to you. You must, of course, forgive me. Please, come in. Perhaps we can find your dear friend together."

Everything in Julian's mind screamed no, but the orphanage was his last resort. The constabulary was uncooperative, Nolya had provided all the information she could, and Hokvar had politely shrugged his shoulder to display his ignorance. He inhaled deeply, and with a determined pace, entered the institution. Uia followed his wake with interested eyes before she shut the door, her attention still on the doctor, and followed him inside.

"Your friend is here, you are correct. Although I am afraid he has taken ill. Perhaps the yeast-insects have affected his frail Cardassian bodily defenses," she said with a mocking tone. "We considered calling you, but then you've been so good to us, we wished to treat your friend and deliver him to you as a sign of our gratitude."

Of course. And tomorrow, you can even throw a party and smile a little. What a load of bullshit. Instead of increasing Bashir's cautiousness, Uia's story only fueled his anger. He turned his head and inspected the near-empty room. "Where is he?" he very nearly spat. It came out on a semi-cultured tone.

Uia touched Bashir's shoulder as she gestured in front of him. "We have placed him in one of our private rooms - a rare luxury, you understand. Especially when we need the space for our children. I am afraid our attempts to heal his illness have not proven very effective, as you might suspect. We have crude technology when it comes to medical instruments, you see." As she spoke, her hand guided him toward a single door, and Julian wasn't so certain this was a good idea anymore. Yet Uia gave no breath for him to speak and she continued leading him forward. "But we'd be relieved if you could work your own magic on your dear friend - as we, of course, do not want to be held responsible for any sudden ... misfortune."

Bashir was about to protest when she opened the door and pushed him inside. He gave voice to a small cry before he straightened up and tried the door she had just closed behind him. Locked. Of course. He banged once, then twice, yelling, "You won't get away with this - I've called the Constabulatory about your activites. They will be here shortly." The silence which lingered following this unlikely statement of facts left him with no doubt that he was in more serious trouble than he had expected.

Garak breathed in harshly, then reminded himself not to do that. They had placed a hood over his head, cloth made with thick weaves and very little room to let the air in. If he began breathing too hard, he would get dizzy then fall unconscious. Which is of course exactly what these sadists wanted. If he got a little too excited, his own breathing would act as an effective sedative. The fact he could not see, hear, smell or speak very clearly wasn't exactly pleasant either.

He lolled his head back, closing his eyes. Sweat pearled over his face from the heat of the hood, tickling his flesh uncomfortably. His bonds were beginning to add new scars to his wrists, and the heavy circlets binding his legs prevented him from getting up without heavily breathing.

Like an animal. Waiting to be tagged, numbered and given a private cage with a brand new owner.

Garak was certain he found nothing appealing about that particular situation. But for the moment, there was little he could do but wait. The only thing to brighten his mood was the satisfaction he felt when he thought those bastards couldn't subdue him without using some sort of complicated bondage scheme. He almost smiled at that one.

"Please, don't do this - I'm a Federation doctor, I work for Starfleet. They will be looking for me when they realize my daily reports aren't coming in anymore. Do you understand that they knew exactly where I was going? They'll comb this entire planet-"

Uia was getting a little tired of the doctor's nimble mouth. She had listened through his tirade for fifteen minutes now, the time it had taken their party to descend into the lower levels of the orphanage. The doctor had been bound, blind-folded and properly calmed with a few calculated blows. Now she wished they had gagged him as well. Finally she stepped in front of him and pressed her hand harshly against his chest, making his start. The men holding him paused as well as they watched her regard the young man coolly.

"They will not be looking for you, Doctor," she spat the title as if it were an insult. "Your shuttle has been recovered, and sent on its merry way into the core of our sun. The debris and ion trails will be sufficient enough to reconstruct the unfortunate scenario; you were on your way back when the gravitational pull of the sun caught you off-guard. Your poor, medical talents could do nothing as you and your friend were helplessly pulled into the core, destroying your shuttle and your miserable lives. I will have enough witness on-surface to testify that you were leaving." She paused, letting these new facts sink in. "So you see, Doctor, you can spare your breath and begin to accept your fate. You are not returning home." She released her hold on his chest and resumed her walk as she added, "Ever."

Garak lifted his head. Was that ...? Were those ...? The Cardassian shifted a bit against the wall, trying not to let his anticipation accelerate his pulse or his breathing. He tended his ear, trying desperately to hear what was going on when he distinctly heard footfalls. Approaching footfalls, in fact. He realized this mere seconds before the door to his cell creaked open, and a limp body was thrown inside. He felt the mass touch his leg, and for a moment he feared they had hurled a corpse into his prison, to rot here as he suffered through the smell and the nausea. It was an odd thought, spawned only by the memories of doing so during the Occupation, to loosen a Bajoran's tongue and make them wish they were anywhere but in that cell ... oh please, I'll tell you everything!

But it was no corpse, for this mass moved, and a groan lifted from the general direction of where it had landed. Garak then assumed he had been given a cell-mate. When he heard the door slam shut, he leaned forward and cautiously said, "Hello?"

There was another groan, then a faint voice. Garak could not hear very well with the coarse material drapped over his head, but he detected the unmistakable infection. Not knowing what his companion had said, Garak found himself not caring. Excitedly, he said a little louder, "Doctor? Doctor, is that you?"

There was movement, then stillness. A few moments later, there was a horrified gasp. "Oh Allah - Garak ..." Another pause. "What have they done to you?!"

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