DS9 06 - Betrayal (c) by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek [Star Trek]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Tags: \Star Trek
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Inc.
Published: 2011-01-02T08:00:40.995000+00:00

CHAPTER

16

"KEIKO?Have you noticed anything strange around the station lately? I mean, things working differently?"

"Why, no. Everything seems to be just fine."

"But …" But that's just what I mean. O'Brien started to explain, then changed his mind. He kissed his wife and daughter good-bye.

"Oh, Miles, could you stop at Garak's and pick up Molly's new jumpsuit? He said he'd have it finished by today."

"Sure. But—"

"What? Is something wrong?"

"Uh, no. Never mind. It's no trouble."

O'Brien got off the lift tube at the Promenade. Most of the strangeness seemed to be turning up here, in the domain of private enterprise. Quark's casino was crowded, even at this early hour, and there was a line outside the Replimat, but the people seemed full of cheerful anticipation, not irritated at having to wait.

He went into Garak's shop. The Cardassian tailor's face still showed the healing scars. "Morning, Garak. I see your shop repairs are all finished. My wife said you have her order ready—a child's jumpsuit?"

Garak gave him that slightly too familiar smile. "Of course, Chief, it's all finished. I'll bring it out. Just wait right here."

In a moment he was back with the garment. "There it is. I think your little girl is going to just love it!"

"Mmm. Garak? I thought your patternfitter was broken in the explosion, isn't that right?"

"Oh, yes, it was. But I got it fixed."

"Fixed?"

"Well, I couldn't do any work without it. I am a clothier, you know, Chief."

"Right, of course." In point of fact, as O'Brien was well aware, Garak was perhaps rather more than just a clothier. He was generally believed to be in the business of receiving, or passing on, information—to the Cardassians, possibly to some other governments.

But none of that was quite relevant to O'Brien at the moment. "Um, could I see it? Just—you know—professional curiosity?"

"Why, do you know how to fix a patternfitter, Chief? If I'd known that …"

"Well," O'Brien laughed, slightly uncomfortable, "not that I've ever had a chance to work on one, you understand. But on a starship, if you can't fix it, it doesn't get fixed, you know. And how complicated can a patternfitter be, after all?"

Garak gave him a raised eyebrow, but led him to the piece of equipment, and O'Brien examined it, saw how it had been broken and reassembled, the painstaking welds—a careful, meticulous job. "It works just as well as it used to?"

"Better. The calibration is more even now. The cut is more precise. You should appreciate the difference on your daughter's jumpsuit."

"Ah, right. Well, that's good to hear." O'Brien left the shop, scratching his head. No doubt about it. There was something peculiar about this situation. Damned peculiar.

But he didn't have time to think about it right now. Too much work to do.

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