Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The performance had been more or less entertaining.  Although, Madred thought, it was slightly distasteful how much popular Earth culture had begun to become assimilated into Cardassian arts.  He’d attended the show mostly because the production was directed by one Maruf Gar, who had crossed his path once or twice in the past.  While most of those incidents were wiped clean in the aftermath of the Dominion War twenty years prior, one never did truly forget.  As he sat in his transport vehicle, he absently placed his hand to his temple, to a scar that he couldn’t bear to have removed.

It was, itself, another reminder of past indiscretions.  Celtris III seemed like a lifetime ago, but the consequences of his acts seemed to have help shape the entire quadrant in a way, so he was content with his scar.  

The transport cab was underway.  It would take him to the shuttle port that would get him to his ship in orbit, and back to the Septimus system.  From there he would—

“Mister Madred, I don’t want to alarm you, but it seems that we’re being tailed,” the disembodied voice of the driver announced.  

“Do whatever it takes to shake him,” Madred replied.  “It is imperative that I stay on schedule.”

The transport cab jarred from some kind of impact.  Madred was thrown from his seat onto the floor of the cab.  He looked immediately toward the window before some sharp object shattered it.  He shielded his eyes from the spray of glass that flew into the cabin as an armored hand moved toward him.  The hand grabbed Madred by the lapel and pulled him to his knees toward a dark mask.  The mask was attached to a heavily armored body, almost all in black.

"Goka Madred." A deep, artificially deepened voice spoke behind the mask.  

"So," Madred said, a defiant smile snaking across his features.  "This is the infamous Nightwatcher we've heard so much about.”

“The True Way,” The Nightwatcher stated.  It was not a question.

“If you like,” Madred acquiesced.  “The question is, what your interest is.  Aren’t you merely a local vigilante?”

“You don’t ask the questions here,” Nightwatcher said. A moment of silence passed. Overhead, the roar of a transport shuttle streaked across the dark sky.  Madred’s eyes narrowed.  

“That was my shuttle!” he snarled.  “You’ve delayed my schedule to the Septimus system!  Why—“

Nightwatcher’s grip tightened.  “I said no questions,” the artificial voice said.  He threw Madred back into the cabin, stood back, and affected a mock salute.  “Carry on, citizen.”

Madred sat there, as he heard the sound of a hover bike speed away.  the driver came to, and hurried to the ruined window.  “Mister Madred!  Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Madred said, through gritted teeth.  “It seemed the Nightwatcher got what he came for.  However,” he added, “He might have gotten more than he bargained for.”

A ways off, atop a mid-sized building, the Nightwatcher stood, and held a comm device.  A generation ago, listening devices from the Obsidian Order would have surveilled his every word and move, but, for better or for worse, This Cardassia at least respected one’s ability to have a conversation.  But old habits died hard.

“It’s done,” he told the person on the other line.  “He didn’t make his flight.”

“No suspicions of your identity?” the Cardassian voice asked.

“Relax, Uncle Garak,” The Nightwatcher replied, and removed his helmet.  A young Cardassian man, with violet eyes and smooth dark hair was revealed.  “When it comes to stealth and getting away without a trace, I was trained by the best.”

***

Tarnok Nor was the only station left intact in the wake of the Dominion War.  When the war ended, the Coalition forces occupied the Cardassia System for a time, with the station administered by Starfleet in conjunction with the transition government on Cardassia Prime.  That was one of the stipulations of the peace treaty back in ‘76.  The Starfleet commander of that station was Captain Buffi K’gar herself.

But that was quite a while ago.

These days, Tarnok Nor was entirely controlled by Cardassian interest, though Starfleet kept a keen eye on its operations.  

No one would have predicted that Elim Garak, of all people, would be instrumental in the reconstruction efforts of the war-ravaged planet.  However, his innate abilities of persuasion could not be denied.

As the airlock opened and passengers emptied out into the corridor, each going their own way onto the station, Garak sighed and rolled his eyes as the last person to disembark stood before him.

“Could you hurry up a bit, Ardan?” He admonished.  

Ardan smiled impishly and shrugged.  “All right.

They darted left and right through the labyrinthine outer docking ring of the station until they got to an interior wardroom. 

The person meeting them made the young man pause.

A middle-aged Cainian man stood by the conference table, keenly looking him over with green eyes. His canine visage bristled with translucent whiskers. His hair swooped over one eye, as was the tradition for his house.  He wore a Starfleet uniform marking him as a Captain.

“Hello, Ardan.  It’s been a long time,” he said.

“B-Bruffi!” Ardan exclaimed.

Captain Bruffi K’gar smiled.  “I’m glad you remember me.  Mister Garak’s been telling me how helpful you’ve been to him in keeping the True Way out of trouble on Cardassia Prime.”  

“Yeah, I suppose,” Ardan demurred.  “The Nightwatcher did most of the work.”

“I’m glad you mentioned the Nightwatcher,” K’gar said.  “I’d like to employ the Nightwatcher armor for a special assignment."

Ardan narrowed his eyes.  “I’m the only one who can use the Nightwatcher armor.  You know that, though.”

Bruffi nodded.  “It’s true.”

“What will you give me in return?” Ardan demanded.

“Well, I’ve been authorized to reinstate your commission as a Starfleet Officer,” Bruffi offered.  

“Starfleet and I don’t always see eye to eye,” Ardan countered.  “You might not like what you get out of me.”

“Starfleet needs more officers like you,” the Cainian said. "More to the point, I need more officers like you.”

“Is this another attempt at the Initiative?” Garak interjected.  “Because your sister—“

“My sister had her own agenda, Mr. Garak,” Bruffi said, roughly.  “As you know too well.  And it didn’t always jibe with Starfleet’s or Cardassia’s.”

“I’m just saying,” Garak maintained.  “If you’re attempting to build a network of exceptional individuals throughout the quadrant, you might find it a little more difficult than it was thirty years ago, when your mentors the Reids started that up.”  He added, “Considering the current status quo of Starfleet.”

K’gar’s demeanor cooled significantly.  “We made a difference, Garak.”

“Yes, but we didn’t know what the Reids were doing until after the fact, Captain.  Tell me,” Garak pressed, “When did you yourself realize that your commanding officers and sister were being groomed for some unfathomable cosmic destiny?”

Bruffi turned to Ardan, ignoring Garak completely.  “You have my offer, Ardan.  It’s wonderful to see you again.” he extended his hand out to the young Cardassian.  Ardan took it.  “And keep in touch, would you?  I know that Joey and the girls would love to get in touch with you again.”

“Oh,” Ardan said, a faint smile crossing his face.  “How is Melodie?”

“She’s fine.  Her hair’s pink now.”  With that, Bruffi K’gar got up.  “You’ll get the usual resupply ship at the usual time, Mr. Garak,” he said to the older Cardassian. “Take care.”

With that, he exited the wardroom.

Ardan looked at the door closing behind him, as Garak scrutinized his reaction.  “What are you thinking?”

Ardan’s eyes gleamed.  “Do you think you can keep the True Way off this planet, Garak?”

Garak nodded.  “I think we can manage for a time without you.”

Ardan smiled.  “Garak—“

Garak cut him off.  “If you hurry, you can catch up with him before he’s beamed back to his ship.”

Ardan clapped his mentor’s shoulder and trotted off toward the exit.  “Thank you!”  He turned back as the door opened.  “Nightwatcher—“

“Take him with you,” Garak said.  Ardan grabbed an obsidian black disc off the table and darted out the door.  

“I’ll call you!”

The door closed behind him.

Garak shrugged and smirked and turned toward the window overlooking Cardassia Prime.

“No you won’t,” he sighed to himself.  

“But then again, neither did I.”

Chapter Text

The USS Corbeau made its way out of Cardassian space with a pair of old Defiant-class escorts at the port and starboard, the Kitsuragi and the Eichenwalde.  

Ardan sat at Captain K’gar’s side on the Bridge of the Corbeau, his neck itching from the collar of his new Starfleet uniform.

He preferred the old one better, to be honest.  

The Thunderan Executive Officer snuck a peek at the youngster as he monitored his station.  Ardan noticed of course.  “Something on your mind, Commander?” he asked

“I was just thinking how long it’s been since you’ve met all the kids,” Kat Naro replied.  “Kather’ine’s about to make lieutenant, herself.”

“You’ll have to forgive him,” Bruffi said. 

“I get it,” Ardan said. “You’re nostalgic for a certain period in time when I was just yay-high,” he said putting his hand about two feet from the ground.  “I get it from Uncle Garak all the time, and don’t think I don’t call him on it either when it interferes with a mission.”

Captain K’gar looked at Ardan with amusement, as Kat looked slightly taken aback.

Ardan attempted to backtrack.  “Not that I’d speak to you the way I speak to him.”  he added, quickly, “Sir.”

“Federation border in twenty minutes,” the Conn officer reported.  “Escorts report no unusual activity.” 

“Once we exit Cardassian territory,” K’gar asked her, “How soon can we make the Rolor Nebula?”

“We can reach the nebula boundary in 32 hours at cruising speed,” the Conn replied.  “Twelve at max.”

“Make calculations to set course for Rolor as soon as our escorts disembark,” K’gar told her.  “Cruising speed.”  He turned to Kat.  “That will give us the time we need to brief Ensign Damar on his mission.”

“Rolor Nebula?” Ardan said.  “Do you mean to go to Draenor II?”

“In due time,” Bruffi emphasized.  “Have you had time to reaquaint yourself with the newest tactical interfaces since you came aboard?” 

Ardan shook his head.  In fact he barely had time to look at anything since he came aboard, and was given less than a whirlwind tour of the ship.

“All right, I want you to report to Lt. Commander Thorinul when his shift starts and he’ll start your tutorial.”

As he said that, the turbo lift opened, and a bearded officer strode in and relieved the officer on duty. 

He was 4 feet tall to the inch.  He was Khazad, from Arda.

“Ah.  Mister Thorinul,” K’gar said to him.  “The Ensign here needs a refresher on the newest updates to the Tactical display.”

Thorinul grunted in reply.

“A little early, is it, Durin?” Kat asked.

“Been coordinating with the escort ships.  Didn’t get my raktajino,” Thorinul sighed.  “C’mere kid.”

As the Cardassian moved to the Tactical station, ready to get up to speed, K’gar hit his comm button.  “Captain to Engineering.  Commander Fairbairn?” 

A lilting voice replied.  “What’cha need, Cap’n?”

Bruffi’s mouth turned up in amusement.  “I’m gonna need max power at any time while we’re in the Nebula within the next few days.  How’s that efficiency rating of yours?”

Down in Engineering, Elanor Fairbairn climbed down an access ladder as she spoke to K’gar.  “Well, if you asked me this morning, it’d be 84%.  But since I read all my briefings like a good little officer, I got the team to beef it up to 86.4. I gave the power transfer conduits a little scrubbing and we scrambled just so.”

“Just like your daddy,” K’gar joked.

“I am my own engineer, Captain,” Fairbairn replied, her tone frosting at the edges.  “You’re welcome.  Out.”

Bruffi chuckled to himself as he ended the call.

“Poking the bear, Captain?” Thorinul called.  Ardan barely hid his amusement.

“Ahh, she loves me,” Bruffi said, getting up.  “Commander, you have the bridge.”   He moved off to the door toward his ready room.  

“Sure.  When she marches up here to raise hell, it’ll be me who’ll catch it,” Kat grumbled.  

Ardan attempted to keep an eye on the goings on, but Durin Thorinul growled, “Ignore them.  They’re a bunch of oversized kids when they’re together.”

“Good to know,” Ardan replied.  

“Think you got the gist of this?” the Dwarf asked.

“Yeah, it’s pretty straightforward.”  Ardan moved toward Kat.  “Sir, when’s my mission briefing?” 

“It is…” Kat scrolled through the holo-screen.  “0700.  You’re relieved until then.”

***

Ardan lay on his bed in his cabin.  So many of the crew remembered him when he was barely out of diapers on Tarnok Nor.

It was dredging up memories of a time that was happier for him than perhaps he realized.

Cardassia was being rebuilt, supervised by the Allied forces led by Buffi K’gar.  He’d been…found in the ruins of Lakarian City and brought up to the station and looked after by Buffi and her husband.

He taught him everything he knew about fighting the True Way, in the way his own father had before him.  It amused Garak to no end.

“A Turtle teaching a Cardassian an ancient Earth martial art, the way his rat mentor did…This is cultural appropriation to an exponential degree,” he’d remarked, more than once.

Raphael heeded the call when Starfleet needed him closer to the roost, leaving him with Garak to guide him.  But he’d left him his legacy.

He took out the Nightwatcher sigil and flipped it from back to front.  Ancient technology with a more streetwise sensibility, it had Raphael’s mark all over it.  When the time came, Ardan jumped at the chance to use it to keep Cardassia safe from the True Way.  Garak said it reminded him of the old stories of the Galor, but that was all he would say, other than to admonish him for not reading the old stories, which quite frankly broke him out in a sweat by the table of contents.  

He blamed his attention span on Buffi.

Eventually, he got himself to sleep and to the briefing room in time, where Bruffi sat at one side of a long conference table.  Durin sat at his right, bringing up tactical data.  

The holo-display at the table showed a schematic of Draenor II, its capital city of Refuge pinpointed and a street-side map augmented.  

“So we are going to Draenor,” Ardan said.  “Have things gotten so bad?”

“Relations between Draenor and the Federation have been…frayed since the attack on Mars,” Bruffi admitted.  “They’re one of the few powers in the Quadrant who refused to sign off on the Synthetic Ban—quite frankly, their reasons are perfectly in line with their philosophy of taking in subjugated peoples.”

“From a certain standpoint, the Uruks are themselves a synthetic race,” Durin added. 

“However, Starfleet Intelligence received a tip that Draenor is receiving illicit shipments of smuggled synths.  We need to figure out who is sending them here and why.”

“So…this is an infiltration mission,” Ardan said.  “Don’t know if you noticed in my file, but that’s not really my strong suit.  I’m more of a smash-and-grab kind of guy.”

“The suit has stealth abilities,” Bruffi countered.  “And I think you can handle any opposition that may arise.”

“Question,” Ardan said.  “Are we doing this in assistance to Draenor, or as a counter-insurgence operation?”

“Good point,” Durin said.  “To be honest, The captain and myself agree that someone is attempting to set Draenor up for a major conflict within the Federation.  Using Council Leader Azkh’s own morals against him.”

“A Trojan Horse play, if you like,” Bruffi added.  “Look, I was on the Mediterranean when Draenor reappeared on the map over thirty-some years ago.  I have a certain…affection for the folks there, and I don’t want a hot conflict with them any more than they do.  This operation is an attempt to de-escalate the situation.”

“They might not see it that way if I get caught,” Ardan grumbled.

“This is why we chose you.  You’re not on the books…yet,” Bruffi explained.  “And we have someone on the inside that will help you.”

Garak wouldn’t let him hear the end of it, Ardan thought, if he ever knew how reticent he was at this kind of covert mission. 

“Okay,” he said.  “I’m assuming I’m a team of one.”

“For now,” Bruffi allowed, and moved to the comm switch at the conference table.  “Conn, ETA?”

“Three hours to nebula boundary,” the Conn officer reported. 

“Thank you.”  Bruffi slid a data stick over to Ardan, who took it between his thumb and forefinger and eyed it.  “That’s your insertion point and route to the objective.  It’s a docking port used often and flagged by our source.  Your main objective is to verify and report back who is trafficking the synths here.”

“Plain and simple?” Ardan remarked, a smile twisting on his face.

“I mean…!” Bruffi began to laugh.  “How different is it from the runs you made on Cardassia?”

“Cardassians are a lot easier to threaten and intimidate than Uruks and Ologs and Draenei and whomever else is hardy enough to live here,” Ardan replied.

“Yep,” Bruffi agreed, and shrugged.  After a short silence  “Welp, you touch down in three hours, so read that stick, okay?”

With that, Captain K’gar got up and left the conference room, leaving Ardan alone.  He took out his Nightwatcher sigil, a flattened oblate disk with a symbol representing the Nightwatcher’s helmet on the front.  He tapped at it, unlocking a holographic display, and he began to use the data stick to program the mission map into his suit.  

It was funny, Ardan thought.  If Garak had ever done anything on Draenor, Ardan never heard of it.  

He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.