Garak had never been to your quarters before. You had never quite been comfortable enough to invite him over, and even if you were, what would you do? You couldn't offer him better food than any of the restaurants could and your quarters weren't so comfortable that he might show up just to be there. But you had gotten so caught up with discussing a book that you had lost track of time, and Garak had suggested meeting later again the same evening, and in a desperate move to avoid Quark's, you had said, "How about my quarters?"
And he had agreed.
So, here he was, standing in your doorway, waiting for you to invite him in. You tried not to think about the fact that he could get into your quarters anytime he wanted to.
When you opened the door, he smiled pleasantly... and then paused, pale eyes drawn to your shoulder.
"My dear, you seem to have a..." Garak licked his lips subtly, searching for the word, "creature."
You grinned. Yes, you had a pet on your shoulder, your dear little friend.
"It's a gecko, Garak," you informed him.
He blinked. "A gecko."
"A reptile." Like you, you didn't say. "It's a pet."
You could tell he was doing his best not to be taken aback. You weren't sure why— had he not guessed that you had a pet, and he was bothered that he didn't know, or was it just not Cardassian to keep a reptile as a pet?
"Ah," he said, still staring at it.
"Actually, could you take him for a minute, I need to get the kiwi off my counter— I totally wasn't thinking about Cardassians being allergic and he will absolutely hop into the sink if I give him a chance. He's weird." And you handed your pet to Garak without a second thought.
Garak stood there, palms open, with a strange, soft gecko in his palms, its round eyes gazing into space. The animal didn't seem to show much intelligence, but Garak could see the appeal of its soft features and peachy colors. It was certainly something he would have expected you to enjoy.
"A pet, hmm?" Garak’s eyes glinted as he stared the gecko-creature down. "Lucky you."
"I heard that." I came back to the door to usher him in. "I thought Cardassians didn't believe in luck."
"Oh... a figure of speech, my dear," he hedged with less grace than usual as he stepped into your quarters and handed the gecko back to you. "Why... a reptile, might I ask?"
"I wasn't planning on having one, but he was abandoned at a pet store, and they offered him to me for free," you said, shrugging, as you took your pet back to his tank. "He wasn't in good condition at the time. I like having him, though. Sometimes he's the only reason I get up and make food. I know he's waiting for me, you know."
Garak blinked slowly in that reptilian way Cardassians often did.
"... It is excellent choice to keep him, then, my dear," he said, perhaps a touch softer than usual. It was hard to tell.
You smiled back at Garak. "Yeah, I think so too."
But you were not talking about the gecko, and the moment Garak realized what you meant, he, too, could not help smiling.
“Can you explain to me exactly why we’re pretending to be married, or are you going to save that explanation for our golden anniversary?” you exclaimed.
Julian sighed, scratching at his neck in a nervous tic. "It's not– we're not pretending to be married, we're pretending to be– engaged."
You frowned at him. "Why?"
"Because, my parents–"
"The parents who broke Federation law by having you genetically modified without your consent as a child? Those parents?"
"Yes!" Julian exclaimed, throwing his hands up and turning away to pace the room. "They're coming to visit, and I need to... I mean, I need..."
What Julian needed was a nap. You'd seen him tired in ways that no one other than a doctor could be tired, but this was different. This was a type of tired dragged down even further by anxiety. He looked like life had chewed him, shaken him back and forth, and then left him in a labyrinth to find his own way out.
So maybe that was what he needed. A way out.
When he suggested this whole idea, you had thought he was joking. But no, Julian had not only suggested, but practically begged for you to be fake-engaged to him in front of his parents. You knew about his big secret and he trusted you to pull it off. Unfortunately, it also broke your heart, because being engaged to Julian sounded sort of wonderful. But it wouldn't be real. Wouldn't that be... terrible, in the end?
“What problem are you actually trying to solve by doing this, Julian?” you asked, trying to remain the calm, easy voice of reason despite feeling like you were being dragged into Julian's labyrinth.
"... I need to look like I'm successful here,” he admitted after a long pause. “Not just as a doctor but as a... person."
That makes so much sense, and yet, it really wasn't what you thought he would say.
“You think being engaged to me will make you look successful to your parents?” You had to ask. It was a pressing question for you, personally, but also a distraction from everything else he had just implied about his concept of personhood in relation to his parents.
“Well!” Julian stopped pacing suddenly and swayed on his heels, appearing flustered by the question. “Well, yes! You– You're successful in your chosen career and respected by our peers, for one thing. That would probably be enough for my parents, actually, but I think you're really–”
A blush darkened Julian's cheeks. The swaying stopped.
“... I think,” he began again, slow and even, “that you are a beautiful, kind young woman who anyone would be lucky to even call their friend. To be allowed to call you more than that should certainly impress my parents, with all their exacting standards. And even if it didn't, I would still be… proud. You're very… you’re… I'd be lucky, that's all.”
There was no way to know if you were blushing, but your face was hot enough to suggest it was. You sat down and leaned back.
“How about we don't lie to your parents,” you dared to propose. You weren't comfortable with the idea anyway. Lies like that always caught up to people. Pretending you had an entire dating history with Julian would be a whole lot of lying. “We could just… tell them we're dating.”
“But we're not—” He stopped mid-sentence and gave you a questioning look.
“We're not.” You had to be very careful right here. “But we could be. Real dating would work better than fake engagement.”
“You mean, you would be willing to… date. Me.” Julian looked as careful as you were trying to be.
“Yes, you. You just said you'd be lucky, so...” You shrugged, discomfort making the movement stiff. If you were wrong, and Julian wasn't actually interested, it would be okay, but you would be pretty embarrassed. And disappointed. “I'd be pretty lucky too. And if… I mean, after this whole thing with your parents blows over, if you're not interested, it's way less drama to just stop dating than it is to tell your parents you broke off an engagement.”
"That's..." Julian nodded, contemplative, but he had that funny little crease between his brows he always got when he was really seriously considering something. "That's sensible. But..."
Julian swung back into his pacing. His movements were more frantic this time. He didn't try to hide his augmentation in front of you and you watched his hands dance too quickly for a normal human as he gestured through some secret thought process. He kept glancing back at you, anxious and searching, until he finally stopped pacing altogether.
Kneeling in front of your chair, Julian took your hands.
"And, after my parents leave, what if I don't want to stop?" he asked. "What if I wanted something real?"
Your heart tumbled out onto the floor somewhere.
"I think that sounds worth trying," you said, squeezing his hands. "If it's real."
Julian laughed. Not because anything was funny— he sounded relieved, more than anything. He looked up at you with a little shine to his eyes, and that fairytale prince's smile you had always been charmed by.
You hadn't been with Damar for very long. And saying you were with him felt a little inaccurate. You had been on a handful of dates that were difficult to schedule in the first place due to how busy he was with the whole "rebuilding Cardassia" thing, and nailing down a relationship in the midst of that was certainly a project neither of you had tackled. He seemed keen, though, and you were at least flattered. He kind, respectful, gave you all of the right kinds of attention even if he couldn't give a lot currently, and he kept finding the time to make dates happen when it seemed like he could barely make time to sleep.
Today was a great example. Two of his major appointments had been canceled at the last second, and the first thing he did was call you and ask if you wanted to spend the day with him. Never had he been able to offer so much dedicated time in one day.
How could you say no to that?
And it wasn't even for a date, which you weren't disappointed by in the least, as it turned out. He just wanted to spend time with you. He had a mountain of paperwork while you had brought a small project, and you both dared to sit on the same loveseat and figure out how much touch was okay at this early stage of undefined relationship.
As it turned out, touch was perfectly fine. You expected he might be hesitant, since Cardassians tended to be particularly modest, but he inched towards you as much as you inched towards him, and next thing you knew, both of you were leaning on each other while while working. He would take breaks to look at you, or rest his left hand on your arm while he worked with his right.
It was just so endearing.
At one point, he turned until his forehead bumped against yours. You thought he might be moving to kiss you, until you realized he was rubbing one of those funny ridges against your head. If you were a Cardassian, you would have a matching ridge to rub against his. Was that like a Cardaasian kiss? Maybe less, you surmised from his behavior. It seemed a little bit more in the range of cuddly hand-holding, perhaps. His eyes were closed and he seemed content.
Eventually, unfortunately, had to move your head— you were getting a crick in your neck.
"Sorry," you whispered when he gave you a bleary, questioning look. He looked so tired! You still couldn't believe he asked you to come here instead of just using the time to get some sleep. "Just need to readjust."
You pressed a hand to the back of your neck and stretched gently. A satisfying pop told you when you had stretched far enough, and you relaxed happily. Except that only lasted for a second, because suddenly, Damar was up and staring directly into your face with a very serious, concerned expression. His hands gripped your upper arms.
"I'll call the doctor," he said, squeezing reassuringly, like he was a firefighter promising you would be okay as he prepared to carry you out of a burning building. "Are you allergic to any pain medications? I have several painkillers here that I believe are human-effective."
"What?" You were completely bewildered, even if his concern was oddly sexy. "Why?"
He squeezed your arms again, speaking gently but firmly. "You just broke multiple bones. I heard them. I don't not know if it is good that you did not seem to feel it, but—"
"Damar, that wasn't a broken bone! I'm fine, see?" You turned your head back and forth so that he could see that your neck worked just fine. "I'm not hurt at all."
He blinked, just as bewildered as you are. "... How?"
"Fluid between my joints releases and reabsorbs CO² as the joint is moved. Sometimes that CO² forms little bubbles that can pop. Sometimes it's loud, but it's harmless." You shrugged. "I'm guessing Cardassians don't do that."
"We do not." He loosened his grip on your arms, staring down at you curiously. "It doesn't hurt?"
"Nope. Helps release a little tension, actually. Here—" Threading your fingers together and pressing outward, you popped your knuckles. It was quieter than the cracking sound from your neck that had scared him so badly, but the series of pops would still have been concerning to an alien whose body didn't make those sounds unless injured.
Damar flinched, looking down at your hands like they might be twisted and ruined. Obviously, they were not, and you wiggled your fingers to prove it.
"Fascinating," he said, tracing his fingers over yours briefly.
"Thank you for being so concerned. That was really sweet of you and I appreciate knowing you would act fast if I was hurt," you informed him. You tended to say that stuff out loud as much as possible. Previous relationships had taught you that not saying it wouldn't help you or him.
If he were human, he might have blushed. As it was, you thought you saw a shadow of color briefly flush through those scaly ridges.
"... Humans can be so direct," he said. It didn't sound like a complaint.
"Yeah, some of us can," you agreed. "I was kinda surprised that you were interested in me. I thought Cardassians like obfuscation and arguing?"
"Obfuscation and arguing are for the young and passionate. Or simply passionate. I am... tired." Tired was an understatement. You couldn't remember seeing Damar look anything less than exhausted, even now. "I did not want to push and prod and argue and guess for a year or so before daring to show my hand by asking you to spend dedicated time with me."
"... Well, I'm glad you dared." You took his hand in yours. "Sit. You're exhausted."
Relief washed over him; you could see it in the sudden sag of his shoulders. He nearly tumbled back onto the loveseat, and you found yourself bearing the weight of a fairly heavy Cardassian again. It was nice.
You quietly went back to working. Damar didn't seem like he was getting much done, but that was probably because you were being used like a space heater. Which you kind of liked. Lizard boyfriend, you thought, and kept your giggles to yourself.
After a little while, you realized that Damar hadn't even pretended to be working. You looked over to check what he was doing, and you discovered that he was fast asleep, head pressed on your shoulder and breathing shallow. You held in a squeal at the cuteness, and the weight of the action settled on you. Cardassians tended to be suspicious, distrustful creatures, and sleeping in front of someone they didn't trust entirely didn't seem to be something they would do unless it was impossible to avoid. And, yes, Damar was exhausted, but certainly he could have kept himself awake if he didn't trust you.
You let out a contented sigh and set your work aside so that you could take his hand in yours, threading your fingers between his. Maybe he was right— a nap was in order.
Garak would be quick to notice you’re not feeling well, and would gently chastise you for not taking care of yourself (the hypocrite).
Garak would show up to check on you under the guise of delivering a couple of books for you to read.
Garak would be excellent at keeping your illness private/secret from well-meaning doctors if you so desired.
Garak when you’re sick: Romantic
You never bothered to tell him the code to your quarters, but that never stops him from showing up unannounced with your favorite soup and some herbal tea he keeps for special occasions.
He would offer to distract you with conversation and perhaps the occasional lie *cough* story.
Or, if you preferred, he’d help you into bed and let you rest while cuddling him. He won’t tell you but he’s very appreciative of your extra warmth.
He’d replicate a whole bunch of blankets to keep you warm and make a little nest on the couch, then encourage you to lay your head in his lap or lean on his shoulder.
Would not be phased at all by bodily fluids. He could take anything you threw or projectile vomited at him.
Garak when he’s sick
More easily aggravated
Would push himself and throw himself into his work as a distraction
Would eat medicine like candy, but only what he can replicate himself. He’s not going to be seen in the infirmary.
There’s a good chance he might try to cancel your lunches for a time. His appetite isn’t what it normally is when he’s sick
Also, if pressed about it, he would deny up and down that he’s under the weather.
Would have a hard time accepting help in any form.
He will insist he doesn’t need it, but won’t tell you that he would like it.
A random idea that’s featured in the fic I’m working on
He will hint to you that he wants a specific soup that his mother used to make
If you make it, he will not thank you for it, but instead, criticize you and tell you it’s nothing like his mother used to make.
It does not matter what kind of cook you are. You could be a three-star Michelin chef. He will not tell you he likes it.
Do not be discouraged. The soup was perfect. (Maybe even a little too perfect) But, he will never in a million years tell you so.
The only hint you’re getting is that next time he’s sick, he will again, ask for the soup.
“headcanons for garak and a reader that is his best friend and a new security officer on DS9, perhaps? Both feel isolated there. So the reader decides to make Garak feel less alone by sneaking a present and decorations into his shop.”
Note: I am not dead! Hoorah! Super sorry for the late posting of this lol, but y’know how it is. Hope you like it nonetheless😊
Pairing: Platonic (?) Garak and GN Reader
Warnings: none
Rating: G
Word Count: 407
Holidays and Friends
So you recently transferred to DS9 as a new security officer. Already you felt like an outsider.
The captain and all of his senior officers knew each other so well, they had all gone through so much while you were just… there.
You never were good at making new friends, so when a certain Cardassian tailor approached you one day, asking very politely to sit with you while you ate, you, albeit hesitantly, agreed.
After that fateful day, you, Garak, and surprisingly Dr Bashir, all shared lunch together for months to follow.
On your time off, you would visit Garak at his store, keeping him company while he sewed pants and dresses.
It was a strange friendship, that was for certain, but you enjoyed each other’s company regardless.
You liked to think you were approachable, but by your very apparent lack of friends aboard the space station, you might have been wrong in that assumption.
Garak kept you company and you kept him company. You both felt so isolated on the station; you with your late arrival and him with his “sketchy” background.
So when the holidays rolled around and everyone seemed to have plans while you and Mr Garak did not, you decided to take things into your own hands.
It started very simple, just a few decorations and maybe a present but it soon grew into a whole pile of streamers, lights, ornaments, you name it. Along with a fairly expensive sewing kit that took weeks to ship.
Since you and Garak were such close friends you knew exactly when you could sneak into his shop and set everything up.
Thankfully Garak and Dr Bashir took so long eating lunch.
After everything was put up, the lights and streams strung along the ceiling, the ornaments hanging from clothes and racks, you moved the quite heavy sewing kit – that you wrapped yourself – onto the main table just before Garak walked in.
To say he was surprised would be an understatement.
“My dear, what is all of this for? A holiday? Why, you didn’t tell me a thing and now I feel completely underdressed!”
You had Garak open his present almost immediately, your desire for him to see it and like it overwhelmed you. He was the one constant on the station, the one you could count on, and you wanted to make the day special, even if he had no idea what holiday you were celebrating.
whoever decided that a big part of siskos characterization is that if theres a little baby anywhere on the station he will sense it and will break barriers and compromise his morals and fight his way through insurmountable odds just to pick the lil guy up and go :D was SO smart ily mwah
so like in the Wire, it’s stated that the one of the causes of all Garak’s Pain and Suffering is the fact that the lights on the station are too bright, but what we see of Cardassia as a planet is that it’s fairly bright outside, and at least feels brighter than DS9. is this due to:
a) Cardassia’s atmosphere filtering out some kind of light that the station doesn’t (or something to this effect)
e) Cardassians spend a lot of time inside? Maybe their room temperature and light levels mimic conditions in the shade and they rarely expose themselves to the sun/bright lights for prolonged periods of time
It is very likely that Cardassians are semi-nocturnal as well as semi-crepuscular. Now, lemme back myself up, here.
Cardassians are reptilian, meaning they are cold-blooded to some degree, and thusly need heat to remain comfortable and healthy. Now, lots of reptiles are fans of bright lights because bright lights = heat. But, there are reptiles that sleep a lot during the day, sunbathing, and hunt at night. This isn't to say that they aren't active at all during the day, but it's really the best time for them to catch some Z's.
Cardassia is very bright in some scenes, yes, but there are also scenes where the natural light appears to be a murky red color. One could say that this was due to a sunrise or a sunset. If that's true, it supports the idea of Cardassians being crepuscular (awake during twilight hours).
We see Deep Space Nine as Terok Nor in the past, while Cardassians are still running it, and it is very dark. Nighttime dark. In every scene. It’s also pretty steamy in there. So when Cardassians have the ability to completely engineer their environment, they make it dark and humid. They would probably function very well in a tropical rainforest. Seems nocturnal to me!
So, I offer as tribute: while Cardassians can and will go about their business in broad daylight, they are at their most comfortable in the dark or dim light, most likely because their eyes don't have much natural protection from glare. So, yes, sunglasses would probably serve them well and Garak should totally have been rocking a visor.
Part Two of Troublesome Heart. There will be a third part.
Weyoun rested peacefully in Deep Space Nine's Infirmary. He was alright, but absolutely exhausted- Vorta, despite their resistance to poisons, were complete lightweights when it came to anesthesia, their bodies completely without defense against such drugs. Apparently the Founders hadn't ever thought about giving their servants painkillers. Dr. Bashir had insisted that the surgery had gone smoothly and that Weyoun would make a full recovery. You trusted the good doctor, but you insisted on staying at Weyoun's bedside overnight anyway.
The lights were dimmed and you were half-dozing when you realized you and Weyoun weren't alone.
The Female Changeling -couldn't someone give her a name?- stood where there had been nothing before. She had probably been disguised as a tricorder or a surgical instrument or something, but you didn't really care how she had done it. You had been expecting some trouble. Not necessarily her, but maybe someone who had it out for any Vorta, even one like Weyoun who wanted to help. You had expected a Starfleet cadet out for revenge or a Bajoran with a bad attitude, and you had prepared yourself.
Well, you thought, pulling your phaser from its hiding place and clicking it up to the highest setting, at least this works on Changelings too.
"He's mine now," you said, lifting the phaser so that she could see it. "You can't have him."
In the low light, the Female Changeling looked like something out of a nightmare. Something about her silhouette made you think she wasn't completely solid at the moment, like she wasn't fully invested in looking like a humanoid and would rather melt only halfway into the shape. She had chosen a pale blue color for her eyes, probably inspired by Odo's, and they glinted strangely. You weren't sure if it was the light or if Changelings had the ability to make themselves glow. And, if they did, and she was doing it right now, then this was all for dramatic effect.
You knew it: She was just a big drama queen.
Well... so was Odo, if you thought about it.
The Female Changeling made a hmph sound reminiscent of Odo's grumbling. "I don't want him." She looked at Weyoun with the same disgust and contempt that Kira usually reserved for Dukat. "Unfaithful creature."
You might have rolled your eyes, if you weren’t so afraid of looking away. "Okay, you see, that's why people keep defecting from the Dominion."
She glared at you. Her shimmering eyes wandered to examine your phaser. You weren't sure if she understood that it was a serious danger to her- it was outfitted to blast enough heat to at least seriously scorch her, if not disintegrate her. That wasn't something you especially wanted to do, but if she tried to hurt you or Weyoun, you wouldn't have much choice in the matter, would you?
"If you're not here for him, what do you want?" you asked.
"I want to understand," she said simply, as if that explained everything and she now expected you to write a complete essay on the matter.
"Understand what?"
"He..." She hesitated. Those blue eyes glittered as she tilted her head. You saw the glow reflect off where her hair should have been, but the texture you saw was like the wet clay of an unfinished piece of pottery. Definitely no hair, or even scalp. Just the basic shape of a head, and a somewhat melt-y one, at that.
Talk about dressing down.
"He was my most loyal servant for many, many years," she finally said. "But you... you managed to turn his faith. He left the Founders, his gods, for you. You are his god now."
Your gut rolled unpleasantly at the idea. "I'm not his god. I'm not like you."
"Then what are you?" she hissed, followed by a disgusting gurgle.
So that's what you sound like when you melt.
"I'm someone who loves him," you said, "and that's something he's never had before."
The Female Changeling scoffed derisively, rolling her eyes. "Love."
"Yes, love." You felt angry, suddenly, for Weyoun's sake. "I'm not talking about affection, or romance. I care about him. I chose to care about him, even though he wasn't on my side. You don't care about anyone but yourself. You think he doesn't know that? You think the other Vorta don't know that? Just give them a chance, and they'll all turn on you."
The Female Changeling said nothing in reply, but you could feel her scorn from across the room. If she had been willing to tolerate you for curiosity's sake before, she no longer was. You had insulted her in some of the worst ways, and someone with a god-complex like hers wasn't about to acknowledge being called an idiot.
"We took out his suicide implant," you told her.
"Termination," she corrected you. She... sounded angry.
"Same thing." Were you poking a bear? Probably.
She made a scraping noise like dragging sandpaper, but said no words. Her eyes glinted dangerously, and you knew you were pushing it, but you wanted to push it. You wanted to push her, to show her how close she had come to ruining Weyoun. You wanted her to feel shame.
"Every time I tell him he's done well, he glows," you said, brushing over Weyoun's hair with your free hand. You still held the phaser with poise, hoping that your shot would be faster and stronger than whatever she might shape-shift into if she got fed up with you. "When I say he's done something right, he is so proud, and when I thank him for even the smallest thing, he acts like I've given him a gift." You took a shaky breath to quell the outrage you felt on Weyoun's behalf. "All he wants is love and he is so good at loving. Why didn't you ever see that?"
"He was a servant, nothing more," said the Female Changeling with all the self-assured pompousness of a queen on her throne. She melted a little further across the smooth floor. "Now he is even less than that."
Your finger squeezed lightly over the trigger.
"Go," you said, jerking the phaser in her direction with hope that she might realize your were serious. "If you come back, I'll shoot you."
She hissed lowly before slowly melting away. You watched glistening sludge ooze across the floor and out the door. It had a faint yellow glow to it, almost like liquid embers, and you imagined that, if only she weren't so hideous in personality, you would think her to be beautiful.
Pity, you thought.
And then she was gone.
The station was still asleep and Julian hadn't even come to check on you when Weyoun began to stir.
You had been tempted by both emotional and physical exhaustion to get on one of the biobeds and fall asleep, just for a little while, but the Female Founder’s visit had triggered some version of a fight-or-flight response that kept you awake no matter how tired you got. Come morning, you were tired in a way that made your eyes ache, and you had a strained grip on your phaser that pinched the tendons from your wrist all the way up into your shoulder.
You carefully made sure the phaser was hidden from sight when Weyoun finally opened his eyes.
"Hey." You kissed his forehead as gently as you could. "The implant’s out. Everything went great. How do you feel?"
"Alright, I... suppose," he rasped. He couldn’t quite part his lips properly, and the words slurred from a heavy tongue. "I had... the strangest dream."
"Really?"
His lips quirked a little bit. His muscles were probably still too lax from the anesthesia from him to properly smile, or make any expression, really, but his eyes softened and you could imagine exactly what he was incapable of conveying.
"I dreamed... that the Founders tried to make you a god. You refused them, because you had fallen in love with one of their servants."
You smiled and took his hand in yours. "Huh. Strange."
the more i think about it the more i’m convinced the ds9 higher-ups just keep garak around for shits and giggles. like. “this guy is a high-level threat to our security and he could probably hack the entire station if he tried but he’s a good laugh sometimes so he can stick around i guess.”
garak: dukat my good bitch. still wearing that generic military commander ensemble number i see? your sense of fashion hasn’t aged well - but then neither have you, so i suppose it’s a good match.
they keep him around for the purposes of dragging dukat mercilessly, hemming fashionable pants, and the occasional convenient assassination that starfleet wouldn’t approve of
Request: Weyoun distracting a very overworked security reader from work?
Words: 397
Warnings: None
Requester: Anon
This was a small, rare moment of peace. Not absolute peace; standing on the upper level of the Promenade wasn’t absolute peace. But for now, you weren’t having to watch any tense Cardassians or Jem’Hadar hungry for battle.
It was hard to stifle a yawn that threatened to come up, but you managed to. With Starfleet’s presence on the station gone, and the heightened tensions, it was getting harder to keep up security patrols.
