live laugh lizard

Cold Heaven

Starbase 375, 2372

They were in the turbolift together, just the two of them, heading up to the observation deck. Bashir, falling back loose-limbed against the wall, said, “Bit much, isn’t he?”

“Who?”

“Lieutenant Tunok.”

“Oh,” said Garak. “Him. Yes. What did you say to get him to go away?”

“I said I’d be with you the whole time. And that I’d let them know when I’d delivered you back in your quarters.”

“I’ve slipped my collar at last. Shall we seize a runabout and make our bid for freedom?”

“Not today,” said Bashir.

The lift stopped, the doors opened, and they came out onto the observation deck.

“Nice view,” said Bashir. “If you like watching ships come and go.”

Garak hadn’t, in fact, liked watching the only thing left to care about fly off into peril, but he’d come and watched anyway. “This way.”

“Where are you taking me now?”

“You’ll see.”

Early on during this period of confinement to Starbase 375, Garak had found himself staring at the reflections on the windows of the observation deck and thinking, idly, with some small part of his frenetically overactive brain, that something didn’t quite compute. It hadn’t been easy catching Tunok looking the other way, but Garak was a patient man, not to mention conniving, and that was how he’d learned that, through some error of construction, there was a piece of wall jutting out which, when combined with the curve of the station, created a small dead space into which he could slip and be entirely concealed.

Garak had been surprised and rather pleased about this. His impression of the Federation in general and Starfleet in particular had always been that everything was a perfect fit. It had been comforting to discover that sometimes they didn’t get the measurements right either. As he led Bashir over, he explained all this to the doctor, and found, to his delight, that it still lay within his power to make Julian Bashir laugh.

The space wasn’t particularly large, but they could sit on the floor together, side-by-side, quite comfortably and look out into the darkness.

“This actually worked?” said Bashir.

“Incredibly, yes.”

“Tunok must have done his nut.”

“Oh, I only did it once or twice,” said Garak. Three times, to be precise, but who was counting? Apart from Tunok. Who didn’t count.

“Took pity on him, did you?”

“Doctor, I thought you knew by now that there’s no pity in me.”

“Hmm.”

In fact, Garak had stopped amusing himself this way because he’d been afraid. Afraid that if he misbehaved too much they might decide he was far too much trouble after all and pass him up the line. Pack him off to Earth, perhaps, or worse. A shame, really, since the peace and quiet – and the simple fact of knowing he was not under direct observation – had been helpful. He had no intention of saying any of this to Bashir.

Garak sat with his hands resting on his knees. Bashir leaned his back against the wall, folded his arms, and said, “What was that about earlier?”

“What?”

“All that guff about people putting gadgets in your brain.”

“It’s… happened before, Julian.”

“Yes. When you were in the Order.”

“Meaning…?”

“This is Starfleet we’re talking about—”

“You don’t think Starfleet would cross a line like that?” Garak felt a familiar sinking feeling. He hadn’t been able to get Sisko to listen, not really, and he’d been hoping for more from Bashir.  

The younger man sighed. “You know, Garak, I’m absolutely knackered. So, for one night only, how about we cut to the chase and you tell me what’s really worrying you?”

Garak looked at the stars. The stars, which had – until quite recently – been completely unfamiliar, glinted back, but, as usual, gave no helpful insight. “Two men arrived,” he said. “They wanted to take me away with them.”

“Take you away? Where?”

“I don’t know, doctor.”

“Who were they?”

“I don’t know that either.”

There was a pause as Bashir digested this. “What’s your best guess?”

Garak, in turn, gave some thought as to how he should answer. Bashir already had some questions about his state of mind. He didn’t want him dismissing his worries out of hand. “If I said…”

“Go on.”

“If I said that I thought they were from a clandestine intelligence organisation operating within your government about which even Captain Sisko seems unaware, what would you say?”

“I’d say…” said Bashir, after a moment or two, “that I need to give that scenario some consideration.”

“Yes?”

“I mean, some careful consideration.” Bashir rubbed his hand across his mouth. “Have you been all right here on your own?”

Ah, so first they must indeed establish the current extent of his paranoia. Good luck with that, doctor. I’m increasingly unable to judge. “I’ve not been on my own,” Garak pointed out. “I’ve had a lengthy conversation every day with Lieutenant Commander Blok.”

“I’m not talking about your interrogator, Garak.”

“Oh, so I am being interrogated? And everyone was quite insistent earlier that it was a debriefing—”

“Garak—”

“I’ve also had the company of the relentlessly attentive Lieutenant Tunok.”

“Well, he’s not turned up dead yet, so you must be getting something out of the relationship.”

“He doesn’t read, he doesn’t listen to music, he’s not interested in politics, and his conversational skills appear to have atrophied before he learned to speak. We’ve had a marvellous time together. I imagine he admires me as much as I admire him.”

“Yes, you sound like peas in a pod. You still haven’t answer my question.”

“I know.”

“Have you been all right here on your own?”

Well, really, what did Bashir think? He’d been cold, alone, afraid, and under constant supervision. He’d spent a large portion of each day in an interrogation room. There was practically nothing available that he liked to eat or drink, nor had he found any books or music on file that were familiar. His wider computer access was severely restricted, and they were cagey about talking to him about the progress of the war. He’d thought about asking if there was any sewing around the place that needed doing, but he didn’t want to sound like he’d gone mad. Which he hadn’t. He was fairly sure he hadn’t.

“I’ve been fine,” he lied.

Bashir gave him a look. What was that word the Chief sometimes used? Oh yes. Bollocks. “Oh well,” said the doctor, dryly. “Could be worse.”

Garak nearly laughed. “You know, doctor, I’ve stopped saying that to myself.”

“Oh yes?”

“Every time I do, things take a turn for the worse.”

“Huh,” said Bashir. “Maybe that thing Starfleet’s put in your head has given you the power to alter reality with your thoughts. You should start saying, ‘Could be better’. See where that takes us.”

“If only that were true. Can we change the subject?”

“Sorry.”

They sat and stared at nothing. Garak focused on his breathing.

“You know,” said Bashir, “I would’ve assumed this space would be too tight for you.”

This wasn’t, Garak thought, a little impatiently, changing the subject. “Sometimes, doctor, it seems to me it would help enormously if the whole world disappeared, or at least shrank to something more manageable.”

“Ah,” said Bashir, nodding wisely. “A paradox.”

“Life’s never straightforward, is it?”

“No,” agreed Bashir. They sat quietly until Garak’s breathing steadied, and then the doctor said, “Did I ever tell you about the time I did a runner?”

“You did what?”

“Two days after I found out what my parents did to me. I ran away from home.”

Oh, thought Garak, he does understand… And he felt in that moment that he had never loved this man more.

“I didn’t get very far. I wasn’t really making an effort. I just… didn’t want to be around them. So I ambled off one evening. Hadn’t packed anything. Thought I’d see how far I got. I was only gone a day, if that. My dad found me walking down the road. Gave me the bollocking of my life. What did you think you were doing. Imagine if we’d had to call the authorities, that kind of thing. Heaven forbid we attracted the wrong kind of attention. Anyway. I didn’t do that again.”

“Until you joined Starfleet, you mean.”

Bashir turned his head to look at him. “Yes.” He seemed to sound pleased. To be understood, Garak assumed. Or hoped. “Until then.”

I knew I could trust you, thought Garak.

“Are you coming with us?” said Bashir.

“What?”

“When we set off for DS9. I’m assuming you want to come along?”

“Yes. Well. I hope so. I asked the captain if I could.”

“Want me to have a word?”

Garak thought about that. “No,” he said. He’d rather know where he stood with Sisko on his own terms.

“Mm, well, try not to worry either way. Because I’m not leaving you here.”

On your own.

“I believe you, you know,” said Bashir.

“What?”

“I believe you.”

People didn’t say that very often to Garak. But other people didn’t matter. “Yes,” he said. “I know.”

“After careful consideration,” said Bashir.

A whole five minutes, thought Garak. No, this was the most he’d ever loved this man.

They leaned against each comfortably. Garak, warmed, let his mind wander. What would he do, he wondered, if those people ever tried to come at him through Bashir? He didn’t have to think long or hard for the answer. He’d kill them, of course, with his bare hands… Would they try that? Would they harm him? Or, worse, would they try to recruit him to their cause? Bashir would make a good agent. Not that stupid holosuite game. Everything else. The intelligence, the quick thinking, the nerve, the practiced concealment, the ability to live life between the lines… Yes, they’d probably try to recruit him. Wasn’t that what Garak had intended, back at the start of all of this? Good luck with that, he told his shadow colleagues. This man has his own agenda when it comes to people like us. He’s more likely to recruit you…

Garak closed his eyes. Put his head against the young man’s shoulder. Felt Bashir’s hand upon his arm. He tried to pretend that they were sitting under the sun on the vast empty shores of the southern continent, but some reason he couldn’t summon up the image as easily as he might have done in the past. All that came to mind was his quarters on DS9. The rest, it seemed, was slipping away, like a dream that could not withstand the harsh light of morning.

I don’t know about you, Julian, he thought, but I’m long past ready to go home.

Wherever that was these days.

~~~

The Cold Heaven by WB Yeats.

While comparing Julian and Sisko's arcs and episodes is hugely compelling, the way it's done in this quotation seems to overlook the reason why this pairing is compelling: the differences. I don't think IEASL failed in 'compromising' Julian, because I don't think 'compromising' means the exact same thing for Julian as it does for Sisko.

ITPM is interesting because it reminds us that Sisko is a dynamic individual who can never be completely confined by a set of ideals or values, even the ones he is actively protecting. In that sense, he is 'compromised' by the end of the episode; the version of him we thought we knew is undone and remade by seeing his acknowledgement and manipulation of the fragility of Starfleet's ideals. He acts in a way that contradicts the values he protects, and thus compromises his role as a Starfleet officer (referring here to the utopic idealist version of a Starfleet officer and not the more complex muddied version these arcs work to expose).

Crucially, Julian's arc with Section 31 isn't the same story. I'd argue there's two reasons for this. The first (and slightly less relevant) is that the values Julian is most dedicated to are not those of a Starfleet officer but those of a doctor. (Hippocratic Oath probably demonstrates this best - despite the Jem'Hadar being enemies of Starfleet, Julian still sees the opportunity to cure them of their addiction and jumps for it. He says he's thinking about their potential as allies, but considering the thing that made him start cooperating with Goran'agar is seeing the other soldiers in pain when the drug is withheld, I'm inclined to think he was trying to justify his decision to help them (that of a doctor) by making sense of it through a Starfleet lens.)

The second reason ties back to how 'compromising' Julian doesn't mean the same thing as 'compromising' Sisko, because their arcs take different viewpoints of Starfleet. Julian's arc through a number of episodes (Hippocratic Oath, Doctor Bashir I Presume?, Statistical Probabilities, Inquisition, The Siege of AR-558, etc.) is shown to be an increasing disillusionment with the Starfleet ideals that formed so much of his worldview for so long ('frontier medicine' etc.). IAESL is the nail in the coffin because it forces Julian to confront the thing he spends the entire episode up until his fight with Ross staunchly denying: that Section 31 is Starfleet. After a steady buildup of him learning time and again that Starfleet is not the infallible force of good it once appeared, he is struck with overwhelming evidence of corruption. Sure, he gets to avoid actively causing someone harm firsthand, and he gets to confront Ross, but neither of these things constitute winning for Julian here. He still loses, because the vision of Starfleet that he dedicated himself to doesn't exist to him anymore. Julian's 'compromising' is on the level of perspective rather than action: Sisko commits acts that oppose Starfleet ideals to defend those ideals, but Julian acts in a way that aligns with those ideals and in doing so comes to realise that he isn't defending what he thought he was.

I care about this distinction and don't like the idea of so directly measuring IAESL up against ITPM in this way because I think Julian's position in DS9's critique of Starfleet is so important for numerous reasons. It's no coincidence that, of all the Starfleet officers in the show, the one who has this storyline of Starfleet disillusionment is the character who is explicitly othered by Starfleet. Every main character in DS9 is an outsider in some way, but Julian is the one that holds this precarious position of being in Starfleet but not entirely accepted by it, and it's important for him on an individual character level to learn that the institution that others him isn't the pillar of righteousness he once believed it to be. It doubles down on the fact that they are wrong to cast him out, or to make him feel he has to work overtime and hide so much of himself to deserve his place among them. (In a more allegorical sense, it's a very neurodivergent position for a character to be in.) It also works to highlight his privilege and consequent complicity that stems from his having grown up in the Federation (see @fatalism-and-villainy 's section of this post for a more detailed discussion of this.)

I also think that having Julian as a Starfleet officer who doesn't go through this same process of having to break his moral code to defend Starfleet, but instead learns that Starfleet is willing and able to break his moral code, is what allows Starfleet to be heavily imperfect without destroying the idyllic future Earth that Star Trek as a franchise tries to create. It allows the audience to maintain faith in individual people that make up Starfleet, in officers like Julian, even if their faith in Starfleet as an institution is shaken. Julian remains 'good' and uncorrupt by Starfleet standards, and is instead 'compromised' personally, in his own perception of the world and his place in it. While he doesn't do anything unworthy of a Starfleet officer, he arguably begins to perceive himself as less worthy of that role as it's becoming increasingly clear that the truth of said role doesn't align as perfectly with his own core values as he once thought.

A final quick note in terms of 'culpability': I think Julian absolutely saw his actions contribute to a negative outcome. His interference in Sloan's plan involved Cretak, of course, but more than that, his believing he was a step ahead and failing to recognise the depth of the connection between Section 31 and Starfleet Command was what turned him into a working cog in Sloan's plan. As Sloan says in the final scene, he was counting on Julian 'being a decent human being' who 'would only go so far'. Sloan's success depended on Julian being uncompromisable, and it therefore compromises his belief in that quality of himself. He did everything right, he refused to cross the line, and it didn't matter, because the institution crossed the line for him. His being a model Starfleet officer in the idealist sense was the very thing that created the circumstances for Section 31's success. Doing the right thing, even just defending life, is no longer something that is largely simple or easy to ascertain, which is huge considering Julian's core values as a doctor. He's absolutely undone by this episode/arc, and although it's subtler than ITPM, I don't think it's less effective.