| Message in a bottle |
[Mar. 2nd, 2008|06:49 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  numb | ] |
The small scales on his face shimmer in a pale blue and the soft skin between them has turned from the usual silvery-grey to the no-colour of rain. His hands and legs are numb from the cold and he knows that he should better start his work on the door relay of his shuttle or soon he’ll be too frozen to move his fingers for the finer calculations.
His gaze shifts to the PADD and the ridiculously colourful wrapped gifts he has cradled in his lap. “You didn’t return to your ship to retrieve these silly parcels! Stop pitying yourself like a Bajoran priestess and start working.” His voice is a harsh whisper, giving his lie an almost Kardasi-like melody. Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all, he thinks bitterly, his fingers twisting a pink ribbon.
Each of the presents has a small card attached. The one on the small packet wrapped in screaming magenta paper reads ‘Please open’. The message on the second, slightly larger gift is ‘Please open as second, but before watching the video message’. And of course, there is another card sticking to the small monitor of the PADD: ‘Have you opened the packets?’
This is so ridiculous, he thinks, his lips becoming a thin line, and he does the only logical thing. With numb fingertips he peels off the card that is attached to the PADD and hits the ‘enter’ button, and with the soft federation standard jingle the small computer springs to life.
“Hullo, Garak.” Bashir’s face looks tired. The Doctor must have been sitting close to the camera while recording this message, because Garak can barely see anything else on the screen.
“I hope that this message will find you well. I,” the young man pauses, looking down at his hands, “I haven’t heard from you for quite some time now. I assume that your life must be busy, now that you’ve finally returned to Cardassia.”
Garak swallows, his back scales rising uncomfortably as the words settle in. “As always, my dear, jumping to conclusions...” His voice is low, whispering the words. This is just a record...
“Well, forgive my unpresentable appearance. The situation on the station is still not even close to Federation Standards. We have problems with water and energy supplies, the replicators aren’t working properly, most of the lifts are out of order and yesterday we’ve lost the gravity control system. Miles and his men are working 24/7, but it seems that as soon as they succeed to repair one conduit two others break up.” The familiar polite little smile pulls at the corner of Bashir’s mouth, “Uhm, well, that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I know that a report about Chief O’Brien’s technical achievements must be the least thing you’d want.”
Although it is just a video file Garak can feel the muscles of his face softening, scales relaxing a fracture, as he returns the smile, staring at the Doctor’s face. Silence stretches and for a moment Garak thinks that he already knows what is about to follow, but then Bashir looks away, rubbing his eyelids with long fingers, pinching the bridge of his nose as if in thought.
"Working too hard, aren't we? Someone should tell the Doctor to rest."
When Bashir's eyes fix Garak again, the young man heaves a sigh. “Open the gifts, Garak. I know you haven’t done it, yet. I’m too used to your,” Bashir pauses, stifling a yawn with his hand.
“Reptilian mindset,” Garak completes the sentence and his thumbs moves to the button again, stopping the message and freezing Bashir’s face on the monitor.
His throat is dry and his eyes are hurting. “I am afraid, dear Doctor, your presents will have to wait.” He takes the two packets and drops them in the sand, close to where he’s sitting. Placing the PADD on the larger one, he stretches his legs and moves until he kneels in front of the door panel. “I… I have a shuttle that needs my attention,” he says and reaches for his tool kit, fighting the tremor in his hands. |
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