ACT IV

(The bridge of OPHIDIA's ship. The four of them are sitting in a circle looking at each other. The plan has just been communicated. O'BRIEN looks very pleased with himself, ODO looks impassive, BASHIR looks dazed, and OPHIDIA looks extremely vexed.)
 

OPHIDIA: I do not like your cunning plan.

O'BRIEN: What's the matter with it?

OPHIDIA: Well, nothing, except that it's INSANE.

ODO: Unfortunately, as we are outmanned and outgunned, Chief O'Brien's creativity is about the only thing we have going for us.

O'BRIEN: What's insane about it?

OPHIDIA: Its success depends upon my not screwing up. That's the first problem.

BASHIR: You can handle it.

OPHIDIA: Really? I've known me longer than you have, and I don't think so. Do I *look* like a bounty hunter?

ODO: We can fix that.

OPHIDIA: Regardless! I can't act, I--

BASHIR: I've seen you on stage, I'm sure you can--

OPHIDIA: I can't fight, I can't fire a weapon--

O'BRIEN: If this works you won't have to do either.

OPHIDIA: (now really upset) I don't speak Cardassian, I don't know anything about the Order, I wouldn't even know who to talk to--

ODO: I'll handle all the preliminary contacts. All you have to do is the actual meeting.

OPHIDIA: At which I'm sure I'll be *very* convincing as a freelance fugitive salesman. (really frightened) I am not an action hero! This is not what I do! If you knew anything about genres--

BASHIR: You're the only one who can do this. All the rest of us are known to the Order as Starfleet officers.

OPHIDIA: Doctor, believe me, this is a VERY BAD IDEA.

BASHIR: (losing patience) I agree, but it's the best one we have. Now are you going to do this or do we turn around and go home? Because that's what it comes down to. Either you do your part, or we leave him here to be broken into tiny pieces by his former colleagues. Is that what you want?

OPHIDIA: You know it isn't.

BASHIR: Well then. (OPHIDIA sighs)

O'BRIEN: I'll get started on the equipment.

BASHIR: I'll give you a hand. (They go out the back of the bridge. OPHIDIA looks at ODO angrily)

ODO: It won't be as difficult as you imagine. The bounty hunter is not a complicated character.

OPHIDIA: (dead serious, and almost crying) I am *way* out of my league, Odo. This is not going to work. I will screw up and people will die.

ODO: I'm not sanguine about it myself, but it's our only option. The cloak will get us through the border patrols but this ship doesn't have what it takes to find him from space. We have to get to him on the surface and this is the only way we can make that happen. My acting skills are even rustier
than yours. But here I am. Because I owe him something you can't fully understand.

OPHIDIA: (troubled) So do I. (ODO looks at her, puzzled.)
 

(Closeup of GARAK in the middle of a shock. ORANZ has apparently turned the remote up to eleven. His whole body is shuddering back and forth so hard the chair is rattling on the floor, his neck is hyperextended and rigid, and his face is contorted in a painful grimace. He is also emitting
what would be a scream if his jaw wasn't clenched shut. After a very long second or two the shock stops and GARAK falls into the reaction, retching and twitching while his head lolls on his shoulders. In the pause we get a good look at him while the camera circles around with ORANZ. The bands
around his upper body have cut into the flesh and are stained with both fresh and dried blood. There are burns on his skin over where the nerve stimulator has been inserted and a welt on his neck where it has been hitting the back of the chair. His wrists are bloody and raw around the restraints. The blindfold is still in place. His mouth is open but other than gasping and choking noises nothing is coming out of it. Eventually he manages to close it and try to swallow. ORANZ's head now comes into the picture, very close to GARAK's)
 

ORANZ: I so wish Tain could have been here to see this. I always thought it must have been a problem for you, figuring out who was the male in that couple. This would pretty much settle the question, don't you think? (GARAK makes a noise that might, under other circumstances, have been a laugh, but is not entirely recognizable.) How did you get it out of him, Garak? What was it you did for him that made him trust you with it? How many operatives did you try on before you found out he had what you wanted? Who else gave it up to you? (GARAK croaks inaudibly) I can't hear you!

GARAK: (having finally generated enough saliva to speak, although his voice is still thick and halting) The first one...was...(ORANZ leans closer in anticipation)...your mother. (He has just time to smile feebly before ORANZ shocks him again. This time he recovers a little faster although the sentence still comes out painfully) You're still...so predictable...(during the next shock, GARAK appears to be laughing. The effect is extremely disturbing, for ORANZ as well as the viewer)

ORANZ: Give me the names! Everyone! Everyone you corrupted or twisted or infected. Who taught you your trade? Who did you teach? (The shock ends and GARAK slumps, laughing to himself brokenly)

GARAK: Garak. Garak. Garak. That's all.

ORANZ: You don't expect me to believe that. (Working himself into a lather in spite of his better judgment) You were corrupted before you left the shell, I know better than to believe that Federation catamite of yours is the *first.* We know about Tain--

GARAK: (with difficulty) So you...keep saying...(shock)

ORANZ: We know about--

GARAK: (fading, but making an effort to hold on) Vary the phrasing...if the...question is repeated...

ORANZ: You must have gone through--

GARAK: ...in the same formula...too often...

ORANZ: To get to him you must have had to work up--

GARAK: ...refusal...becomes an automatic reflex...

ORANZ: WHO ELSE? (shock)

GARAK: ...that the subject cannot stop...

ORANZ: WHO ELSE? 

GARAK: ...even if he wants--(ORANZ shocks him for several seconds. At the end of this one, GARAK loses consciousness. ORANZ tilts his head back and checks for a pulse; finding one, he leaves the room in a temper.)
 

(Back on the ship, OPHIDIA has been transformed into a bounty hunter. This means a lot of leather, a big chunky armored vest, and tall boots. Although she looks dangerous, she clearly feels ridiculous. ODO and O'BRIEN are up front piloting the ship; OPHIDIA is in the back talking to BASHIR.)

ODO: So far as I know the Cardassians never had cloaking technology.

O'BRIEN: My hypothesis is that this used to belong to an agent who was working for the Romulan empire. There was quite a little history of espionage, counterespionage, double and triple agenting. Speaking of which...

ODO: Kira just sent through full particulars. The abductors are already in custody; evidently they're some new kind of Bajoran zealot.

O'BRIEN: Just what Bajor needs. (ODO humphs)

ODO: The contact name they gave her belongs to a low-level Protectorate operative--

O'BRIEN: Protect--

ODO: The Obsidian Order is now the Peoples' Protectorate. (O'BRIEN humphs) The revolution has a long way to go yet, I know. (We move back to OPHIDIA and BASHIR)

BASHIR: (despondent) You were right. This plan is insane. Bringing you into this was unconscionable.

OPHIDIA: It's too late to worry about that. (Pause) Besides. I owe it to both of you.

BASHIR: What on earth for?

OPHIDIA: I can't explain it. (Sighs) Suffice it to say this is my responsibility, and I have to deal with it as well as I can. (Gently) Doctor, if I'm going to convince these people I'll need to give them some kind of proof. I need you to tell me something they'll recognize as knowledge that only he would have. Something about the Order that only he would know. (BASHIR is thinking)

BASHIR: We...hardly ever talked about it, directly.

OPHIDIA: Even something small, a word or a phrase I could drop into the conversation...

BASHIR: The chair.

OPHIDIA: The what?

BASHIR: (dropping his voice) You must swear on whatever you pray to never to tell anyone, not even Odo or O'Brien, and *never* to let him know that I told you. If it weren't the only way I can think of to save his life--

OPHIDIA: Doctor, it's in the vault.

BASHIR: The vault?

OPHIDIA: Never mind. I promise. So.

BASHIR: Garak worked...I don't know the details but he was heavily involved in Inquiries. I think he was responsible for developing interrogation techniques. I know he trained other operatives to use them. The way he described it...There's a very strict methodology to it, almost a ritualized process. The subject is restrained in a chair and...(he breaks off)

OPHIDIA: (gently) I don't need to know everything, Doctor. Just enough to drop the right hints.

BASHIR: Garak...was working directly under Tain's supervision, but almost all of the senior operatives had some involvement in Inquiry training. The junior operatives would observe interrogations, and they in turn would be observed by the senior staff...Garak used to do a lot of the
demonstrations. Apparently his technique was (unconsciously mimicking Garak's intonations) "nothing short of legendary." (Laughs bitterly) Having gotten so *good* at it, and having therefore an understanding of just how exquisitely horrible it would *be* to be one of his own subjects, he was
rather disturbed when one by one some of his superior officers...(breaks off and shakes his head, laughing nervously) started requesting him to...

OPHIDIA: To what?

BASHIR: To...operate...on them. (OPHIDIA, as we might expect, is rather taken aback.)

OPHIDIA: What for?

BASHIR: They told him at first that it was part of his training. (Laughs) I don't suppose they expected him to believe it. Those uniforms are loose-fitting, but I imagine it would still be easy enough to recognize an orgasm when--

OPHIDIA: Oh my God.

BASHIR: But of course the transparency of the excuse didn't matter; what mattered was he knew that he could either do it and keep quiet about it or he could die young. Of course, as he said, it wasn't *real.* 10 per cent pain and 90 per cent performance, that was how he put it...whereas in a real inquiry, evidently, the ratio is much higher than that...

OPHIDIA: Perfect. So this *entire* organization is heldek and yet they--

BASHIR: (pain starting to come through) Oh, but you see it's not *sex,* Ophidia, that's the beauty of the Order system, there is never any physical contact between the subject and the operator. It's all done by electronic transmission, impulses traveling through the air to the stimulator and along the nerves stretched out like wires...(breaks off)

OPHIDIA: I think you've told me enough, Doctor.

BASHIR: (plunging on, now seizing the opportunity for catharsis) They always made him operate. He was never in the chair. So he started to wonder if maybe he had the whole thing wrong, if it was the one in the chair who really had all the power. Because he knew he was still in their power, every moment he was in the room he was aware of being completely at their mercy even though he had the controls in his hand and that terrified him like nothing ever has--(losing control over his voice)

OPHIDIA: Doctor, you don't have to--

BASHIR: Ophidia, try to understand this, I know *exactly* what they're doing to him and I know how much more vulnerable he is than even he understands and I...

OPHIDIA: No wonder you hijacked my ship. (BASHIR laughs forlornly) Doctor, I am really, really, really sorry.

BASHIR: It's not your fault.

OPHIDIA: I-- (Exploding in frustration) That is one *twisted* organization. (BASHIR smiles wanly)

BASHIR: There's an old Cardassian saying, apparently..."Sometimes the quickest path is the crooked one."
 

(GARAK is alone in the interrogation room, sleeping fitfully. As we watch, his head rolls back and his mouth opens. We see his jaw working and his lips moving but no sound is coming out; his breathing is ragged and from the way his throat and tongue are working it is clear that he is dehydrated. He swallows once or twice and now is getting out inarticulate sounds as his head turns from side to side on the back of the chair. The voice gradually becomes more distinct and we hear, interspersed with what sounds like Cardassian, Julian's name. Suddenly something jerks him awake and he comes to life with his neck straining forward and his body fighting the bonds. Disoriented and not remembering where he is, he shouts)
 

GARAK: Julian?
 

(There is no response, of course. He tries to reach for the blindfold but of course it doesn't work. Straining again as if trying to look through the blindfold, GARAK suddenly begins to cry uncontrollably, with his whole body, shaking with frustration and anger. After watching this for a while, we pull back to see this image on a view screen in another room, being watched by PILTAR and ORANZ)
 

ORANZ: That's it. He's done.

PILTAR: Not yet. (ORANZ looks at him) It's because he's alone. It's a good sign, but until you can reproduce it in the actual operation he's not done. Give him a couple hours, then go back in and resume. (ORANZ nods and exits. Another Cardassian comes in with a PADD and hands it to PILTAR, who reads it with an expression of surprise and dismay)

PILTAR: Tell Tanak to set up a rendezvous in the usual place. (Cardassian nods) And tell him to report back to me immediately afterward. (Cardassian exits. PILTAR returns to the viewing screen.)
 

(The back room of some dingy Cardassian underworld bar. Assume the usual amount of local color. OPHIDIA, in her bounty hunter getup, is sitting across the table from TANAK, an Obsidian Order agent in mufti.)
 

TANAK: I must tell you, Ms...

OPHIDIA: Ophidia.

TANAK: Ms. Ophidia, that I find your comminque somewhat cryptic. What do you mean by "merchandise?"

OPHIDIA: I mean the one witness without whom your little Operation Clean Sweep can never be a success. The center of all those perversions you want to drag out of the Order's closet in order to impress your new masters with your commitment to reform. The source of the infection. I speak, of course, of Elim Garak.

TANAK: You are, of course, mistaken.

OPHIDIA: I know you think you already have him.

TANAK: Think.

OPHIDIA: Your Bajoran amateurs got the wrong one.

TANAK: The wrong one?

OPHIDIA: Ah, now we see the importance of good intelligence. The budget cuts haven't been kind to you, have they? What neither you nor your untrained stooges bothered to learn is that Doctor Garak-Bashir, the Federation officer to whom Garak is now married--(TANAK nods)--has been
experimenting for several years with cloning technology. Living with Garak, as you might expect, has had an influence on him, and unbeknownst to his superior officers--

TANAK: You're not serious.

OPHIDIA: I am completely serious. There is an original Garak, and there is a clone, and you've got the clone.

TANAK: Why would he want--

OPHIDIA: (shrugging) Who can explain a heldek? One schwanz is good, two is better, I suppose, everyone has at least two orifices--(TANAK is revulsed. We cut to the bridge of the ship, where BASHIR and O'BRIEN are following this conversation over audio and laughing.) Maybe he wanted to make his own clone and double date, who knows what these perverts get up to in their spare time. But you've got the copy, and I've got the original. (We cut to the bar again.) So speak to me of latinum.

TANAK: Even...if what you say is true, and I find it highly doubtful...

OPHIDIA: Believe, don't believe, what can I tell you. I have plenty of buyers lined up for him, if you don't work out. None who wants him as badly as you do, I'll admit, but...

TANAK: The subject who is presently assisting us with our inquiries certainly seems to think he's the original.

OPHIDIA: That's because the doctor transferred the memories. He's wrong, of course.

TANAK: But even if your story is true, I don't think we'll need your merchandise. An exact replica will suit our purposes as well as the real thing.

OPHIDIA: I'm afraid not. Not all the memories transferred. Things too deeply repressed, too traumatic to show up on the scan, didn't get copied. And those are exactly the memories you want. If you want this to be the trial of the century, you're gonna need to know the worst. You need to know
how high, how deep, how black and twisted it got. You're gonna need to know who sat in the chair. (TANAK suddenly becomes attentive) Your clone doesn't know that.

TANAK: And yours does.

OPHIDIA: Oh yes.

TANAK: You can produce this...merchandise?

OPHIDIA: (Takes out a handheld communicator and flips it open) Send him down. ("GARAK" materializes briefly next to OPHIDIA; TANAK stares agog; "GARAK" dematerializes.)

TANAK: Well. What are your terms?

OPHIDIA: I don't work with henchmen, which is clearly what you are. I will deal only with the man in charge of the inquiry and only in face-to-face negotiations. I will be paid in latinum and I will transfer control of the merchandise only after I and my loot are safely out of harm's way.

TANAK: My superior may wish...to inspect the merchandise before paying for it.

OPHIDIA: (handing TANAK a credit-card-sized object) Here's my card. A signal sent on that frequency band will find me anywhere in the quadrant. When your superior decides to meet with me you will send the coordinates and I will bring the merchandise.

TANAK: (tucking the card into a pocket) Agreed. (He stands, so does she; they shake hands)

OPHIDIA: I hope this is the beginning of a profitable relationship for both of us. You *really* need better hunters.
 

(She presses a button on her uniform and dematerializes. She rematerializes on the ship. She enters to a burst of applause from O'BRIEN, BASHIR and ODO)
 

O'BRIEN: A masterful performance.

ODO: I found the orifice discussion especially--

OPHIDIA: Shut up. (Sits down heavily) Now what?

O'BRIEN: Now we check to see if...(looks at a portable viewscreen he's set up) There! Beautiful. (On the screen a small bright dot is moving slowly from one edge to the other) So far the card is tracking like a charm. With any luck he'll run straight to the facility where they're holding him.

OPHIDIA: And then what?

O'BRIEN: And then we hope that his superior officer buys that cock-and-bull clone story.

OPHIDIA: What are the odds.

ODO: Better than you think. They lost most of their best and brightest in the Gamma Quadrant.
 

(Back in the interrogation room, GARAK is still sitting alone. ORANZ enters with remote in hand. GARAK looks up painfully)
 

GARAK: (slowly) I knew you'd come back to me someday.

ORANZ: You still haven't given us what we need. No rush, of course. We've got all the time in the world.

GARAK: Did you even read the manual?

ORANZ: We know who we suspect. All we need is your confirmation.

GARAK: Do you know what the purpose of the isolation stage is?

ORANZ: You can't hold out forever. And it would make no difference. We can try them all without you.

GARAK: It's not to trick the subject into revealing something in a soliloquy. Even exceptionally dim subjects--(ORANZ shocks him causally; GARAK convluses but resumes)--assume they're being watched. 

ORANZ: Your evidence can be given posthumously--

GARAK: The real purpose of the isolation stage--

ORANZ: Or in absentia--

GARAK: --is to set the bond. To make the subject realize--

ORANZ: We only want you as a performer, Garak. Because we know you'll make it a good show.

GARAK: --that he wants the operator to return--(ORANZ shocks him)

ORANZ: So do what you're best at. Talk.

GARAK: --that he needs the operator, that without him he'll go mad--

ORANZ: Who was with you? Who did you corrupt?

GARAK: --but it's really the operator who needs the subject. (ORANZ shocks him) See? You can't get enough. You can't stay away. You can't keep your hands off--(ORANZ presses the button for a good long time; GARAK collapses for a bit afterwards)

ORANZ: Tell me who they were. Who sat in the chair.

GARAK: Nobody. (ORANZ shocks him) Everybody. (Another shock.) Nobody.

ORANZ: We can do this for days on end, Garak. (Shocks him. While he convulses he forces out)

GARAK: And wouldn't you love to. (ORANZ shocks him again; he roars in a final effort at resistance) That's right, Oranz, give it to me, hard and sharp, right up--(ORANZ, starting to panic somewhat, hits the remote again. Between his clenched teeth) Was that good for you, Oranz? Was it just like
you always--(ORANZ adjusts the controls up and the sentence ends in a scream)

ORANZ: I'm not Tain. I'm not Parlock. (GARAK falls back, choking. ORANZ is still agitated) This is business.

GARAK: (gasping for air) Business is pleasure. (ORANZ's face contorts in rage and another shock sends GARAK into more convulsions; after it he is shaking uncontrollably and emitting a kind of chattering whine)

ORANZ: (trying to calm down) All I want out of you is the information. Give me the names.
 

(On the ship everyone has suddenly sprung into action. OPHIDIA is walking toward the transporter pad as O'BRIEN hands her a pair of fairly large earrings)
 

O'BRIEN: These are micro optic cameras. They'll send back a visual feed to this terminal here. I'll be able to see what you're looking at. (OPHIDIA puts them on. "GARAK" follows her onto the transporter pad. O'BRIEN puts a pair of wrist restraints on him) Now these are breakaways; you can snap them any time you want. Also there's a miniature hypospray in there with enough anaesthetic for twenty Cardassians. 

OPHIDIA: You design and build these things in your spare time, Chief?

O'BRIEN: Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Now. The beam-in coordinates are at the very edge of the facility. Your man is somewhere in the middle. The entire facility is protected by shielding except for the area you're beaming into, so you have to bring Garak back to that site for the beamout.
I'll monitor you through Ophidia's subdermal communicator. Don't scratch your head like that, it creates feedback. All right? Everyone got their parts down? (OPHIDIA looks at "GARAK")

"GARAK": (sounding exactly like the real one) But of course.

OPHIDIA: Whoa. That is *frightening.*

"GARAK": Thank you.

O'BRIEN: All right. (Gets set to beam them down) Good luck. I'll be watching. (They dematerialize)
 

(In the interrogation room, GARAK goes into another convulsion as ORANZ screams at him)
 

ORANZ: They didn't protect you! Don't protect them! Give me the names!

GARAK: You don't want the--(shock)

ORANZ: Starting at the top!

GARAK: You just want--(shock)

ORANZ: Tain, Parlock and who else?

GARAK: --to watch me--

ORANZ: (furiously leaning on the button) WHO ELSE? (GARAK's post-shock collapse is longer and when he lifts his head it sways on his neck)

GARAK: (almost delirious now) Careful...you'll overload the subject's...central nervous...

ORANZ: (quietly) The rules have changed, Garak. Subject death is no longer an unacceptable outcome. (GARAK laughs hoarsely)

GARAK: Long live the revolution. (Shock.)
 

(A control room at the edge of the facility. A lone Cardassian guard stands at a computer console in the center. PILTAR and TANAK wait along one wall. OPHIDIA and "GARAK" materialize. PILTAR looks surprised. "GARAK" smiles)
 

"GARAK": What a pleasure it is to be back home and among friends.

OPHIDIA: Gentlemen, before we go further, the rules. Mr. Garak is wearing a pair of restraints I designed myself, which are fitted with a hypo loaded with daturon. If I should at any moment feel threatened or come to beleive you are planning to take my merchandise without paying me for it, I will release the daturon by remote control and you will have a dead Cardassian on your hands, not to mention a hopping mad and heavily armed Caledonian. Tampering with the device will also result in the release of daturon and the consequent death of the merchandise as well as whoever happens to be
tampering with it. Do we understand each other?

TANAK: Ms. Ophidia, this is Protector Piltar, who is superintending the inquiry in question. (She nods. In her ear she hears O'BRIEN)

O'BRIEN: Can you get me a closer look at that console? (Ophidia tilts her head so the earrings change position) Thanks.

OPHIDIA: Where shall we talk?

PILTAR: (studying "GARAK") He's amazingly lifelike.

"GARAK": And you too look well for a dead man.

PILTAR: The error that resulted in my condemnation was corrected by the civilian government.

"GARAK": Can these people do *nothing* right? (PILTAR appears to be considering)
 

(In the interrogation room ORANZ is crouched near the chair and is shocking GARAK about once a second. GARAK is wailing inarticulately as he flails.)

ORANZ: You're done, Garak, you're done, you've held out this long but you can't do it forever. Give me the names. (pauses; GARAK roars; ORANZ starts the shocking again) Give me the names and you can get out of here and go home. You'll be doing them a favor. They need to be corrected.

GARAK: (in a kind of whine as he shudders to the shock) Stop it stop it stop--

ORANZ:I can make this last forever.  If you don't give them to me, you'll never get out of here. You'll spend the rest of your short life in this chair. You'll never see your doctor again. (The bottom edge of the blindfold starts to get damp as GARAK's eyes tear up. ORANZ changes to a more consoling tone) You'd like to see him again, wouldn't you? You can, you know. (Shock) As soon as we're done here.

GARAK: (faintly) That's...a lie...

ORANZ: Yes, it is, Garak, it's a lie, but you're going to believe me because you're done. Tell me who was with you. (GARAK whimpers. Shock.) Tell me! (Another shock drives him into a scream which turns into a list of names)

GARAK: Tain! Parlock! Entek! Lando!

ORANZ: Yes! Give them to me!

GARAK: Stednar! Domlap! Hindreth! (GARAK finishes the scream and his head falls back as he gasps raggedly toward the ceiling)

ORANZ: More names! (GARAK emits a strangled sob) Finish it! (Shock; GARAK screams) All of it, Garak, give me the rest! (GARAK shakes his head; ORANZ shocks him.)

GARAK: Brofnel! Madred! Piltar! (ORANZ's smug grin disappears) Sparat!

ORANZ: That's not possible.

GARAK: Hintlak! Crotnop!

ORANZ: Don't lie to me here, Garak, it won't help you.

GARAK: (laughing hysterically) Dukat!

ORANZ: You're making this up!

GARAK: (now maniacal) Everyone, Oranz, I did everyone I worked under and everyone who worked under me, all my superiors and all my subordinates--

ORANZ: The *real* names, Garak, tell me the truth!

GARAK: Tabor! Rapta! Jilliam! Darheel! (ORANZ shocks him) And you too, Oranz--

ORANZ: You're lying--

GARAK: Yes, yes I did, don't you remember? You probably thought it was--(a shock stops him, but he resumes, still choking)...just a beautiful dream, but...

ORANZ: You did not!

GARAK: I'll give you your show, they'll be glued to the viewscreens, I guarantee you that--(ORANZ shocks him but he continues even during the hit to laugh)

ORANZ: (Panicking) Stop this!

GARAK: I did everyone and everything including you, I remember it distinctly, during that mission to Rendox--(ORANZ charges toward him) 

ORANZ: It's not true!

GARAK: You could hardly wait for the chance--

ORANZ: Garak!

GARAK: You can barely keep your hands off me now, thinking about--(ORANZ, not knowing how to shut GARAK up, walks toward him.)

ORANZ: Garak!

GARAK: --that night you finally--(Suddenly, ORANZ grabs GARAK by the hair and yanks his head back, at the same time ripping off the blindfold and shouting)

ORANZ: Look at me! (GARAK blinks and squints, unable to adjust right away. Growling at him from close range) IT NEVER HAPPENED! DO YOU HEAR ME? (GARAK's vision clears and he makes eye contact and is suddenly terrified; ORANZ seems to be alarmed too)

GARAK: (barely able to get the words out coherently) You...*never*...touch...a subject. (There is a long moment of silent panic on both sides.)
 

(Back at the beamin site PILTAR finally makes a decision about "GARAK".)

PILTAR: (to TANAK) I need to see them together. Bring him. (They are about to drag "GARAK" away; OPHIDIA holds up a small remote device) 

OPHIDIA: Gentlemen. (They stop) I go with my merchandise until the latinum is exchanged.

PILTAR: Very well. (OPHIDIA takes "GARAK" by the arm and starts walking him down the hall after PILTAR and TANAK. O'BRIEN's voice comes in)

O'BRIEN: This is an interesting development.

OPHIDIA: (sotto voce) Now what?

O'BRIEN: This could make things either a whole lot easier or a whole lot harder. Or both.

OPHIDIA: Wonderful.
 

(Back in the interrogation room, ORANZ knocks GARAK's head sideways. His mouth bleeds and the words are slurred now)

GARAK: Physical contact implies--(ORANZ hits him in the gut) breakdown of the relationship--(ORANZ punches his head again) between--(ORANZ is now battering GARAK without seeming to have much control over his actions. He finally pauses for breath; GARAK twists in the chair painfully and
continues quoting the manual) Once contact is made, the operation...(ORANZ goes around behind him and kicks him in the back; the chair falls over and GARAK's head is now pressed into the floor. He struggles to keep breathing)...can end...only one way...(ORANZ, snarling, yanks the chair out
from under the bonds, causing a ripping sound that is probably one of GARAK's shoulder ligaments. He screams and falls forward. Trying to get up)...with the death... (ORANZ knocks him to the floor)...of the subject.
 

(We now switch to the corridor outside the room. PILTAR punches open the door while OPHIDIA cranes her neck toward it)

O'BRIEN: I got the sequence. Thanks.
 

(The door opens the four of them enter, TANAK and PILTAR first, followed by OPHIDIA and "GARAK." ORANZ is standing over GARAK, who is face down on the floor. His head and shoulders are covered with blood; his arms, still locked behind his back, are bloody and torn and one of them is wrenched in
what is clearly an unnatural position. Almost all of GARAK's exposed skin is discolored with bruises. He is trying to roll himself onto his side and is drooling blood and bile. ORANZ's hands are bloody and his uniform is spattered with it, as are the walls. The chair is lying where ORANZ threw it in a corner. TANAK and PILTAR stop short and stare agog at ORANZ, who is similarly dumbfounded by their arrival. OPHIDIA puts a hand over her mouth to keep back her reaction. "GARAK," upon seeing GARAK, suddenly breaks character and lets loose an involuntary cry of horror)
 

"GARAK": Oh *God!* (Unfortunately this sounds much more like BASHIR than it does like GARAK. Recognizing the voice, GARAK lifts his head and looks at him, as do TANAK and PILTAR. OPHIDIA backs up and murmurs to O'BRIEN) 

OPHIDIA: Houston, we have a problem.

*End Act IV*