By Andrew J. Robinson
For almost a decade Garak has longed for only one factor -- to move domestic. Exiled on an area station, surrounded by way of extraterrestrial beings who detest and mistrust him, going again to Cardassia has been Garak's one dream. Now, ultimately, he's domestic. yet house is an international whose panorama is full of demise and destruction. Desperation and mud are consistent partners and comfort is a tumbler of unpolluted water and a hot position to sleep.
Ironically, it's a letter from one of many extraterrestrial beings on that house station, Dr. Julian Bashir, that evokes Garak to examine the cloth of his existence. Elim Garak has been a pupil, a gardener, a undercover agent, an exile, a tailor, even a liberator. it's a existence that used to be charted by means of the forces of Cardassian society with little or no knowing of the individual, or even much less compassion.
But it's the tailor that is aware who Elim Garak used to be, and what he will be. it's the tailor who sees the ruined textile of Cardassia, and who is aware the best way to convey this ravaged society again jointly. this can be unusual, simply because a tailor is the only factor Garak by no means desired to be. however it is the tailor whom either Cardassia and Elim Garak want. it's the tailor who can placed the items jointly, who can take a sew in time.
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Additional info for A Stitch in Time (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Book 27)
She came through the lobby about nine oclock. She was on the arm of a man in a suit and a topcoat and they went out the door and got into a cab. He sat there for a long time. After a while he got up and folded the paper and went to the desk. The clerk looked up at him. Have you got a Mrs Cole registered? he said. Cole? Yes. Just a minute. The clerk turned away and checked the registrations. He shook his head. No, he said. No Cole. Thanks, he said. THEY RODE TOGETHER a last time on a day in early March when the weather had already warmed and yellow mexicanhat bloomed by the roadside.
This is a new subject. No it’s not. I’d give you all the money. You could do whatever you wanted. All the money. You dont know what you’re talking about. There’s not any money. This place has barely paid expenses for twenty years. There hasnt been a white person worked here since before the war. Anyway you’re sixteen years old, you cant run a ranch. Yes I can. You’re being ridiculous. You have to go to school. She put the napkin on the table and pushed back her chair and rose and went out. He pushed away the coffeecup in front of him.
He shook his head. It’s just talk, Mary Catherine. I got to get on. What if it is just talk? Everything’s talk isnt it? Not everything. Are you really leaving San Angelo? Yeah. You’ll be back. Maybe. I dont have any bad feelings against you. You got no reason to. She looked off up the street where he was looking but there wasnt much to look at. She turned back and he looked at her eyes but if they were wet it was just the wind. She held out her hand. At first he didnt know what she was doing. I dont wish you anything but the best, she said.
A Stitch in Time (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Book 27) by Andrew J. Robinson