Author: Meg
Recipient: AstroGirl
Rating: PG
Fandoms: Farscape & Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Summary: Scorpius & Garak have the same aim, for once... and it's not about making sweet love to Major Kira.
"Have you found the object?" Scorpius repeated. His lip curled as he advanced on the Peacekeeper woman. "Where is it?"
Officer Haad quivered, pinned to the spot by Scorpius' glare. "I don't know, sir! This man said he could help me, but he knows nothing!"
She pointed at a hairy man with antlers, who squeaked. "I, uh, I never said I could actually take you where this holy worm thing was," he said as he inched towards the door. "My lead wasn't able to help me. If you have a complaint you can always speak to my sup-" and with that he bolted out the door.
A ray of brilliant red sunshine fell momentarily onto the dusty floor, then the door slammed shut again. The other patrons ignored it, as usual, too lethargic or intent on their own affairs. A Sebacean woman laughed, somewhere far in the back, but it was abruptly cut off.
Scorpius snarled as he backhanded Haad across the face. She fell to the floor, then stumbled away, clutching her jaw. The other three members of his escort -- he had never bothered to learn their names -- stood stoically next to him, in a classic guard formation.
They didn't like him, but they protected him. They knew the consequences if they didn't. He'd transmitted the recording of his session with the last Peacekeeper who'd betrayed him over the ship's internal comm system. It helped morale.
He never should have come here. Never should have listened to his imbecile underlings who advised him this squalid little bar on this squalid little planet was the source of the object that gave off such fascinating readings.
"You have an interesting way of doing business," said a quiet, amused voice from the corner of the bar.
Scorpius spun, ready to explode, but the memory of the bartender's palmprint-activated fission blaster displayed prominently on the wall kept his temper in check. Barely.
The man in the corner raised his glass to Scorpius. His black hair was slicked back neatly from a high forehead, covered like the rest of his face in white, marbled skin with ridges.
Scorpius growled. "What. Do. You. Want."
The man rose from his chair in an easy, fluid motion, finished his drink neatly and said, "Oh, the same as most people, I imagine. Good friends. . . good company. . . a nicely-turned hem."
He strode over to Scorpius with the same economy of movement, boots clacking on the dusty wooden floor. "I'm Garak. I believe we're looking for the same object. Perhaps we might work together?"
Scorpius grabbed Garak by the front of his grey shirt. "Tell me what you know about wormholes," he said, aware that perhaps he should be a little more calm but too aggravated to really care.
Garak's hand blurred, and suddenly he was standing a metre away from Scorpius again. He straightened his shirt, and tucked it back into his dark brown pants. "I know quite a few things about wormholes," he said, eyes alight with what looked like interest. "I am, however, simply a humble tailor. I regret that I may not be able to help you."
Scorpius sniffed and turned to his lieutenant. "Scan the area," he ordered. The Peacekeeper lieutenant, a man who stank of cheap cologne and sweat, nodded sharply. Scorpius turned his back on him, aware that he would do his job correctly, and focused on Garak the fascinating. Garak. . . who obviously knew about wormholes.
The door opened and a red-haired woman entered. She was Sebacean, but with odd ridges down her nose. Perhaps not Sebacean. She carried herself with such self-confidence and barely-controlled aggression that it took a moment for Scorpius to realise she was actually short and slender.
She looked from Scorpius to Garak with amusement. "Are you two playing 'Whose is bigger'?"
"The lack of a good tape measure really does hamper such proceedings," Garak said.
"You know I'd win, right?"
Garak made a little bow. "Courtesy demands I remain silent on that subject. Have you have any success, Major?"
"No," she said, perching herself on a high chair, one designed for Zafrexians and the like. "We're meeting at the shuttle in ten minutes."
Scorpius was intrigued by the way she seemed to relax but stayed so completely alert. Then he noticed his lieutenant. The man stood at attention, his scanning equipment dangling in one hand. "Speak," Scorpius ordered, ignoring Garak muttering to the woman.
"The object appears to be in some kind of flux, behind the bar," he said. "I believe it to be temporal flux."
The Major jumped up from her chair. "Thank you," she said briskly. "We'll take it from here. We were sent to retrieve this particular item."
She took a step towards the door leading to the rooms behind the bar. The meaty bartender, approximately twice her height and four times her width, stepped in front of her. "No place for a lady," he rumbled.
"No ladies here," the Major countered with a smile. "What do you have back there?"
"Nothing you're going to see," he said. "Now back off." With that, he pulled down the fission blaster. The Major raised her hands and went back to her friend.
Seeing it was the only option, Scorpius said, "I suggest we work together. Perhaps we can - assist each other. I am interested in wormholes."
The Major laughed. "We know wormholes," she agreed. "My friends and I live in a place next to a wormhole. We have to retrieve this particular object, an Orb, before the Prophets will allow us to return. One of the warlords on this planet seems to have taken it."
It was at that point that the door opened again.
Permanently.
The explosion caught Scorpius across the back and his left side. He catapaulted into the Major, who fell on Garak. They all fell on the floor. When the debris had settled Scorpius looked up to see a man standing in the doorway.
"My name is Tieran," he announced. "I've come for my property." Scorpius noted with irritation that three of his four Peacekeepers were motionless on the floor. Though one of them was motionless on the floor, with parts of herself on the wall as well.
The bartender hustled forwards, moving surprisingly fast for one of his bulk. "I have kept it safe for you as promised, Warlord," he said, bowing. "You will be Warlord of all of Ilari, I vow! If you might come through here. . .?"
The Major leapt to her feet, grabbed Scorpius in one hand, Garak in the other, and somehow produced a small weapon in another hand. "Come on," she said tersely. "Enough of this trying to be secretive idiocy." She ran forward, shot Tieran precisely in the centre of the chest - Scorpius was disappointed to see him fall to the ground stunned instead of dead - shot the bartender, and kicked the door open.
Scorpius kicked the bartender away from the door and helped her through. Not that she needed it. She threw open cupboards and looked under furniture, while Garak stayed by the door with his own small weapon in hand. "Here," she breathed, "At last."
Scorpius fell to his knees beside her as she gazed into the cupboard. It was a small rectangular object, giving the impression of great age. Two doors at the front. The Major's hands darted out to open the doors, but she restrained herself and picked it up instead. "The Orb of Journeys," she said.
"Now we can go?" Garak asked.
"Now we can go. The Prophets will pull us back. With the shuttle, I hope. Sisko and Dax should be there already." She and Garak exchanged grins. "It'd be nice to be able to breathe air instead of vacuum when we get back to the wormhole."
"Not without some answers," Scorpius began angrily, but they shimmered.
"We're off, back to our own time!" Garak shouted.
"Back to the Alpha Quadrant - so sorry we can't explain," the Major added. She grinned again, somewhat unconvincingly.
They disappeared.
Scorpius growled, and stalked back into the bar.