A little lost Vorta
"Where shall I sit?" Weyoun asked Dukat jovially, pointing to the vehicle which was parked in front of him, which he presumed was a car.
Dukat considered and them gestured to a seat at the back, on be side. Weyoun tool a quick look around the surroundings. The sky was blue. There were few clouds. The birds were tweeting. Then, he stepped into the car.
Damar, stood beside Dukat, frowned. "He didn't have to come, you know," he muttered.
Dukat have his friend a wry smile and then said, "Are you coming with us or not?"
Damar circled the car and went to sit in the front passenger seat, but Dukat waved him back. Damar looked at him, puzzled. "Sir?"
"You can sit in the back today," Dukat explained.
"What?" he stuttered. "Why?"
"Oh, relax, Damar," Dukat said reassuringly. "It won't be that bad. You won't be there for long, anyway."
Damar considered Dukat's words, pursing his lips thoughtfully. Begrudgingly, he sat in the back, though not directly beside Weyoun.
"Has everyone got their seat-belts on?" Gul Dukat called over his shoulder, not bothering to even so much as turn around a little. He smirked, somewhat enjoying belittling his colleagues.
He heard a low sound and realised it was Damar grunting for some as yet undisclosed reason.
"Yes, we're ready to go," the ever-triumphant voice of Weyoun called back to Dukat, in prompt acknowledgment of the question.
Nodding, Dukat strapped himself in. He reached up, to open the sun-blocker and examined his reflection. He grinned. Lookin' fine, he thought to himself.
Weyoun, leaning forward in his seat, noticed Dukat's self-appreciative gaze. He frowned. "I don't mean to interrupt," he said condescendingly, "but can you stop preening for one moment and drive?"
Dukat snapped his head around and glared at the already frustrating Vorta. Weyoun sat back in his seat, where his gaze was met with a glower from Damar. Finally, Dukat settled back into the driver's seat and smiled in early self-satisfaction.
Slotting in the key, turning it, and pushing forward, the vehicle's engine choked and spluttered, until it final came online. Dukat flexed his slender hands on the black steering wheel and paused for a moment. He looked up and flipped the sun-blocker back up into its proper position. Pushing the handbrake forward firmly, the car lurched forward, and Dukat was sure that he could hear Weyoun moaning about something or another. With one hand on the clutch, and the other planted on the steering wheel, he changed gear and the car left its position on the side of the road.
No longer stationary, the vehicle began to crawl along the highway, its spies steadily increasing.
Damar muttered something discreetly. Weyoun didn't hear it. Or, if even if he did, he was too busy giggling at the other cars passing by alongside them.
Dukat, though, did hear it. And, he let it be known. Looking out the corner of his eye, being careful to still keep his eye on the busy road ahead, he managed to display an unfavourable look in Damar's direction.
Dukat's second in command felt the Gul's teal eyes piercing into him.
Putting a stop to Damar's uncomfortable silence, Dukat pressed, "Damar, what did you say?"
Squirming in his seat a little, Damar grunted. "Nothing, sir."
Dukat turned his full attention, more or less, back to the road ahead and the blurring traffic that was all around them, but kept glancing back up at the mirror. "Damar," he spoke authoritatively. "If you have something to say, say it."
Damar sighed. He picked a bottle of something out of a bag that was resting at his side, in the centre seat that was between him and Weyoun. It was like a barrier. The two of them needed a barrier at most times. Fingering the bottle thoughtfully, Damar answered, "I just don't think there's any point in this..." His face screwed up in discomfiture. "Outing," he finished.
Gruffly, Dukat laughed, then sighed. "Oh, Damar. You need to get out more," he explained. Catching sight of the amused expression of the clone, he added, "So does Weyoun." The smug expression on the Vorta's face was wiped away promptly.
Damar raised an eye ridge. "So do you," he said, without putting much thought into his words. "All you do all day is pine after major Kira."
Dukat's hands tightened around the steering wheel. His shoulders tensed, but he huffed out a breath of relief. "Now, now, Damar," he said calmly. "Is it so hard for you to have a nice time?" He glanced at the Kanar bottle that his friend had gripped tightly in his hand, and almost frowned. He thought otherwise when he recalled his very own fondness for the beverage.
That kept Damar quiet. For some time, at least.
Dukat concentrated back on his task of being the designated driver, whilst Damar swigged his Kanar and stared absent mindedly at random places around him. A spot on the tarmac. A sheep in a field. The indicators going off on other cars.
Weyoun, too, was watching out of the less than clean windows. The dirtiness of the supposedly transparent thing, started to bug him. It intrigued him, actually, to some extent. "Dukat?" he called over the whoosh of the passing air and the road of the engine.
The Cardassian sighed. "Yes, Weyoun?"
"I may be mistaken, but aren't windows meant to be transparent?" Weyoun asked innocently.
The simplicity of Weyoun's voice frustrated Dukat. "I just haven't gotten around to cleaning them yet," he replied, failing to truly understand why he has chosen to justify his actions - or lack of actions - to that insufferable clone.
Weyoun nodded thoughtfully. He paused to look over at a particularly withdrawn looking Damar and then out of the widow beside his seat again. He looked up at the sky. "The clouds on Kerrill Prime never look like these ones," he observed.
Damar downed the last of his Kanar and then glanced over at Weyoun. "Maybe because its a different planet," he said scathingly.
Weyoun ignored the rudeness of Damar remark. "I think you're forgetting that you work for the Dominion," he said to Damar, with a broad smirk on his face.
Groaning, Damar turned away from the clone. He searched his bag for more Kanar, but it seemed that he had either forgotten to pack as much as he wanted, or - and more likely - he had drunk a lot more than he thought he had.
"It's awfully quiet in here," Dukat announced after some time in the vehicle; the pitch-silence almost deafening them. He reached on hand out and fiddled with the car's stereo system. He turned on the radio, the red dial moving rhythmically in conjunction with the movements of his fingers. Scrolling through he many stations, he frowned, his eye ridges almost meeting. "Do either of you have any music with you?" he asked the two of them.
Damar grinned, but bided his time and waited for Weyoun to offer them an answer.
"Were you talking to me?" Weyoun questioned, looking adorably confused.
Dukat nodded, though Weyoun couldn't really see the movement from where he was sitting. "Yes, Weyoun," the Gul told the diplomat.
"Well..." Weyoun started, smiling. "You see, we Vorta don't possess music preferences."
"Sounds rather boring if you ask me," Damar retorted.
"No one's asking you, Damar," Weyoun chided. "And, the glorious Founders deemed it useless. They wouldn't forget. Gods can't forget."
"Shame," Damar muttered.
Almost starting to feel as though he were the only adult in the situation, Dukat quickly changed gear, upping the speed of the car, and glanced up at Damar in the mirror. "Any offerings, Damar?" he asked expectantly.
Damar shrugged. "I have a few."
"Then, by all means, tell us," Dukat prompted him.
Damar looked a little uncomfortable. He rubbed his temples in uncertainty then frowned. "I... uh, perhaps we should stick to the radio." Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out the small form of an amused Weyoun.
"No, Damar," Dukat said theatrically. "Tell us." He enjoyed tainted him.
Begrudgingly, Damar shoved his hand into his bag and began to pull out some discs. Weyoun, as curious as the day his illustrious progenitor stepped out of the cloning facility all those years ago, leant toward him and began to look through the assortment of discs. Damar reached over and snatched the discs that Weyoun has acquired, carefully putting them back in his stash. He began to read out the titles. Of some of them, anyway."Metallica," he said. "Iron Maiden. Led Zepplin." He paused, waiting for Weyoun and Dukat's respective responses. Maybe Cardassians were just fond of that material, metal, Weyoun mused.
"They're... different," Dukat announced. He wasn't even sure why he was surprised by what Damar had just said. Dukat had had to while away many a day on Terok Nor, listening to Damar's favourite music.
Weyoun smiled broadly. "They all sound very interesting," he exclaimed appealingly. "Play them all!"
Dukat hit himself on the forehead with his hand. Why do all of Damar's favourite songs have to be in excess of seven minutes long?
Dama passed the discs over to Dukat, who waved them away. "I can't put them in yet," Dukat explained to him. "Take them out of the cases."
Damar complied and then handed them over to Dukat, who blindly reached behind himself to take the discs. He put one of the discs in and sighed when Damar began singing along - not very well - to the song that was playing.
Weyoun, as usual, was sat with an air of simplicity surrounding him. His peculiar ears almost pricked up as the song continued. "This is most exciting," he announced happily, loudly, briskly clapping his hands once.
Damar almost smiled. Almost. He tapped his knee and nodded along to the beat.
'Pour some sugar on me
Ooh, in the name of love
Pour some sugar on me
C'mon, fire me up
Pour your sugar on me
Oh, I can't get enough'
Weyoun frowned. "I thought sugar was food," he observed with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Why would you pour sugar on someone?"
Dukat sniggered to himself, as did Damar. Dukat, however soon sobered and his expression became neutral. Then slightly frantic. "What turning was I supposed to take?" he asked, knitting his brow.
Rather unhelpfully, Damar shrugged. "You're the driver," he said. "Don't you know?"
Dukat rolled his aquamarine eyes. "Damar, you're not helping."
"I think we passed it," Weyoun told Dukat.
Dukat moaned in sheer annoyance. He changed gear and was about to pull onto the hard shoulder when Damar told him otherwise. "I don't think that's wise. The cops will be over pretty quick."
"So?" Weyoun pressed, still rather confused.
"Damar's right," Dukat added. "Once they smell all that Kanar, they'll be into us quicker than you can say 'Praise the Founders'."
Weyoun looked puzzled for a moment, and then nodded slowly. "Ah, I see."
Dukat rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his hand running smoothly over the small ridges there. He pulled out onto a side road and the car continued its trundling journey there. "So, no one knows where the turning was," he said, sounding annoyed and confused.
"We're lost," Weyoun announced, looking glum.
Damar smirked. "You scared?"
Weyoun huffed and ignored him.
Stopping the SUV, Dukat undid his seatbelt and sighed exasperatedly. He turned off the stereo, leaving Damar to moan and mutter to himself. "Lets try and, uh, get our bearings," he suggested.
He got our of the car and searched around, his position remaining static.
Damar, too, stepped out of the car. "This is so ridiculous," he murmured.
"Damar, stop complaining," Weyoun scolded him as he also vacated the vehicle.
Damar sneered at him, the Kanar starting to take its full effect.
As their petty argument continued, it escalated. Dukat was too busy trying to get them out of the mess to take in all of the remarks spoken and topics touched, but he was certain he heard talk of Weyoun's frustrating mannerisms, his rude, but cherubic words; Damar's continual state of self-pity, his drunken ways, his abundant but failing love life.
At last, and Dukat wasn't even sure how long it had been. Minutes. Hours. Days...? He shook his head dismissively. "Will you two stop that infernal bickering?!" he demanded.
Weyoun crossed his arms over his chest. "Dukat, you don't tell me what to do. You answer to me, and, of course-" he paused and smiled when he added, "The Founders."
Dukat rolled his eyes. "I don't care, Weyoun. That's at times of war." He eyed the Vorta closely. "Right now, though, we aren't at war..." He took another look at the guilty looks on Damar and Weyoun's faces. "...Yet." Then, he turned his attention to Damar, once he was satisfied that Weyoun was probably going to keep his mouth shut - for the time being, at least. "And, Damar," he said. "I expected better of you."
Apologetically, but annoyed and disgusted that he - Dukat's closest friend and most trusted crew member - would be given the same as someone like Weyoun.
"You be a good little soldier," Weyoun couldn't resist saying.
Damar was very, very close to striking the smug Vorta across the face. So, Dukat stepped in. "Right. That's it!" He stood between the two of them. "Damar, calm down and find something to preoccupy yourself with. Call the roadside rescue or something."
Damar obeyed sulkily and did so, before flicking through his abundance of music discs.
Then, it was Weyoun turn to be interrogated by Dukat. "Stop aggravating Damar," he told Weyoun firmly. "And, go sit in the car. See of you can plan out our route, and work out where exactly we went wrong."
Weyoun glared at him, but started to get back in the car. Then, at the last minute, he spun on his heel and faced Dukat. "You two can try and find a way back. I'm going to try and find help." He scowled at Damar."Myself." He knew it was a mistake, letting the Cardassians join the illustrious Dominion. They weren't fit for it.
Dukat outstretched his arms, beckoning silently for Weyoun to stop walking away. "Don't be stupid Weyoun," he called after him. "It's late and it'll be getting dark spoon."
Weyoun stopped walking and seemed to consider his position for a moment. "I am more efficient than you two," he decided saying for no particular reason.
Frowning, unconvinced, Damar asked loudly, "In what way?"
"In every way needed," Weyoun promptly replied. He stomped away from the car, into the quickly falling falling darkness of the woods.
"You're not doing to go after him, are you?" Damar asked his command officer.
Dukat said or did nothing for a short while, giving himself time to think the situation over. "No. He'll be back."
"Because," Damar muttered, picking his teeth. "I am not going to get him."
Night was fast approaching. Damar, it seemed, was not quite as resilient as his commanding officer when it came to withstanding the cold. He shivered and shuddered, clutching his elbows with the opposite hands.
"Damar, will you stop that?" Dukat asked him, trying to be polite, but, honestly, he couldn't care less whether or not he sounded polite at that moment in time.
Dukat's cutting tone woke Damar up from his state of self-pity. "Sir, its too cold here," he declared with barely covered contempt, his words mere stutters due to the cold.
Dukat nodded and surveyed the area. "Then..." He paused, considering. "Go get back in the car."
"That's what I've been doing for the past fifteen minutes!" Damar snapped angrily.
Rolling his eyes, Dukat bore an unusually thoughtful expression. "Stop moaning, then," he ordered. They weren't on duty, meaning that Dukat couldn't actually issue orders to his subordinate officers. He was too tired, too annoyed and too cold to care, though.
Damar harrumphed in annoyance and sat back in the car, flexing his fingers.
Outside the vehicle, Dukat was still very much thoughtful. He, like Damar, didn't care much for that irritating Vorta Weyoun, but he wouldn't go so far as to say he actually hated him. Damar hated many things; Dukat didn't. Besides, there was no way on Cardassia that Dukat was going to feel the wrath of that indomitable Founder again. Once was certainly more than enough.
He paced about on the side of the dirt road track.
"Please, Dukat," Damar called out to him, his tone edging on desperation. "Can't we just leave?"
Dukat simply glared at him at first. "No, Damar," he then answered slowly. "We cannot just leave." If he lost the Founder's favourite adjutant, he knew he would not live to see another day.
"This is-" Damar cut himself off with a loud grunt. "Lets just go already."
Dukat, however, wasn't having any of it. He shook his head, still mulling the matter over.
"Dukat," Damar said firmly. "You're a solider, a leader, not a search and rescue worker."
"You've met the Founder," Dukat said icily. "You know exactly what she'll do to both of us if we lose her chief adjutant."
Damar frowned. And then he sighed. "Her precious Weyoun," he muttered with contempt.
Ignoring the sarcasm in his friend's voice, Dukat agreed. "Precisely." He sat back in the car and shut the door, leaving it to slam. Loudly. The noise almost jolted the slumping, grumpy, Damar from his position.
"What are you doing?" Damar asked, perplexed.
Dukat tuned on the car's headlights and indictor, putting the car into drive. He pulled off the slim road, the gravel churning under the wheels.
"We're actually going to find him?" Damar asked.
Dukat nodded and looked at Damar closely for a moment through the mirror. "Its either in the car or we walk," he offered.
"Option one," Damar answered quickly. "I am not walking."
Dukat smiled wryly. "That's not the kind of response I'd expect from my second in command."
"At least," Damar amended his response, "Not for Weyoun."
Frowning lightly at him, Dukat then set his sights on the road ahead.
"We won't be able to see anything," Damar pointed out gruffly, squinting in the darkness that was quickly enveloping them and their surroundings.
Dukat shrugged in response. "We might as well try." He wasn't going to let a missing Vorta stain his record. "It's not like you to give up."
"I haven't given up," Damar retorted. "I just never tried in the first place."
Letting that comment slide past undisturbed, Dukat slowed the car's speed, with a quick flick of the gear stick. The vehicle seemed to grunt in delight; the fast speeds at which it had previously been travelling at were quite obviously too fast for its chugging engine to keep up.
"Wait..." Damar whispered. Pressing his face against the glass of the SUV's window, he noticed movement in the bushes that rang alongside the dirt track.
"What?" Dukat asked, his tone questioning.
"I think I saw something," Damar said quietly, still trying to look out of the window with as little effort as possible. He wanted sleep. And Kanar.
"You're sure?" Dukat, himself, was not particularly convinced.
Damar frowned. "Wait..." he said again. "No," he then decided with a shake of the head. "I think it was a deer or something. Too graceful to be Weyoun." He smirked.
"He's can't be too far," Dukat mused aloud. "His legs aren't long enough to carry himself that long a distance. I'd say he's less than a mile way."
"Yeah, but in what direction?" Damar asked.
"Any," Dukat answered quickly. "But, my instinct tells me-" He paused, rubbing his ridged chin thoughtfully "-left."
Damar rolled his eyes, dubious about Dukat's apocryphal decision. Still, if he angered Dukat too much, he'd have to walk. Damar was not going to consciously let that happen any time soon.
The car's pace was steady, the occasional stone getting caught noisily an bumpily under the wheels.
"Please tell me this isn't another deer," Dukat moaned after Damar announced that he'd thought he'd seen something yet again.
Damar hushed him. "Dukat," he said. "Look." He pointed straight ahead, leaning forward slightly in his seat.
Dukat craned his neck and quickly realised that the beam of the vehicle's yellowy-cream headlights had fallen on a figure. A humanoid shaped figure.
The person turned around, squinting their eyes in response to the intense light and head that the headlights gave out. He brought his hand up to his forehead, shielding his painfully sensitive eyes.
It was then that Dukat realised what, or rather, who it was. The ears were unmistakable. The Gul vacated the vehicle. "Ah, Weyoun!" he announced. "We've found you."
The Vorta studied him incredulously. "You've found me?" he repeated, looking slightly amused.
Nodding, Dukat reiterated, "Yes. Now, get in." He gestured to the waiting car.
Weyoun, still very much with curious look on his pale face, didn't move. "I didn't ask you to come and look for me," he declared. "Why are you here?"
"Because, quite frankly," Gul Dukat began sternly. "I don't care much for the Founders, or your beliefs. But, the Dominion is vital for Cardassia." He paused, his expression almost painful. "As much as it pains me to say this," he began, swallowing. "You're important to the Dominion. We need you to make this work."
Starting to get impatient and irritated, Damar scoffed. "Just get in the damn car, Weyoun," he snapped. He glanced over at the Gul. "Dukat, we just... lost him for one moment. Relax."
Dukat glowered at him. If it had been anyone but Damar who had said those words, they would've been receiving more than a simple disapproving look. Dukat and the Vorta then got into the car.
"This isn't a big deal, you know," Damar said to Dukat reassuringly. "He just did that to piss you off."
"He has succeeded," Dukat added. He turned the car back on and they continued their journey.
"It's a little silent in here, don't you think?" Weyoun observed.
Dukat, realising that a worn-out Damar was fast asleep, snoring like an oversized Klingon targ, decided that it would be he himself having to answer the clone's endless strong of queries and listen to all of the endless complaints. "Lets keep it that way," Dukat muttered.
"I'd rather we listened to one of those... songs again," Weyoun suggested jovially.
Dukat had his finger poised over the play button of the stereo system, but drew it back slightly when Weyoun spoke yet again. "No, don't play Damar's choices," the Vorta diplomat ordered. "I don't think my poor ears could take anymore of it."
Dukat rolled his eyes and snickered quietly to himself. He'd never really envisioned Weyoun as a metalhead. "What should we put on then?" Dukat asked, exasperatedly.
Weyoun rubbed his chin, slowly mulling the matter over. "I'll look through your collection."
Prophets, does his curiosity know no bounds? Dukat didn't want him to do so, but he knew he needed to keep his undivided attention on the road ahead. He would not crash his brand new car.
And so, Weyoun thumbed through the record discs that Dukat had, reading the peculiar titles over and over in his head. At last, he found one, handing it over to Dukat.
Dukat stared at the cover, one hand on the wheel. He burst out laughing. "I don't think this is... appropriate, Weyoun," he warned.
"Appropriate for whom?" Weyoun asked innocently.
"Suit yourself," Dukat said slyly. He took out Def Leppard and slot in the disk that Weyoun had chosen.
'Relax don't do it
When you want to go to it
Relax don't do it
When you want to come
Relax don't do it
When you want to come
When you want to come'
The thunderclap at the beginning of the song roused Damar from his short-lived, drunken snooze. He jolted upright. Rubbing his eyes, he took a small while to register what was happening. He looked over to see Weyoun with the most curious expression. The Vorta looked like he could have been trying to work out the galaxy's hardest maths problem. Then, it dawned on him. Weyoun was thinking about the lyrics to the song.