It was staggering. Unreal. Something from a dream. The sudden change from outcast tailor to Obsidian Order agent. One instant Garak was destroying his own shop and the next he was aboard a Romulan warbird, shaking hands with Enabran Tain. He was back. This was what he’d been made for. How had he even lived as a tailor? How had he survived the monotony?
And then it was over. One simple request from Tain. Shouldn’t have required a second thought. But suddenly he didn’t fit anymore.
Perhaps the Federation was having more of an influence on him than he’d thought.












