Though it could have been worse, Bashir wasn't entirely sure how that could have been achieved.

He slammed his hand onto the panel by the door, watching it open and snow drift in. He hurried inside and shut it, trying to ignore the grumbled protest from the cockpit.

"I can't get a signal from outside either." He shook off the coat and hung it up. "I think we're just going to have to tough it out." He stepped into the cockpit of the shuttle, ducking under the panel that his companion had pulled down to try and boost the communicator array. "How's the power holding?"

"We'll be fine, providing that we get found inside of the next week." The Cardassian slowly tapped at the control panel. "We can hold out longer by using snow for water, cutting all unnecessary power usage, such as lights and unused control panels, and keeping the door closed at all times. And we will have to live without decent bathing facilities; the emergency sonic wash is the best we have."

Bashir sighed and slumped into the chair. "I'm so sorry, Garak."

He didn't even get a sideways glance. "What for? For not being able to work out how to stabilise the engines before we were caught by the orbital gravity? Hardly your fault, it was less than thirty seconds."

"No, just... I mean, this can hardly be much worse for you, can it?" He tapped his finger on the control panel. "We're trapped on a small shuttle, on an ice bound planet, with a week of energy. You're not even meant to be here, you're a civilian."

"I'll survive." Garak stretched and looked at the thermostat. "Though I will agree, it is hardly pleasant to be caught in such an environment, but it is just as hostile to you as me." He raised his hand. "And I know, as much as I would like the heat up, it simply isn't economical."

Bashir smiled apologetically. "There's a couple of coats in the entrance, if you'd like."

"Doctor," Garak turned back to whatever he was doing, tinkering with the control panels, "the entire station is kept at temperatures no more comfortable than this. I do not need any assistance."

"Not yet." Bashir murmured. "But the coat will give you insulation and stop you from losing any further body heat."

"Stop fretting, Doctor." The Cardassian calmly slid a piece of metal under the panelling and levered it up far enough to get his fingers under it.

"It's in my nature to fret, particularly when my friend's life is in danger if he doesn't stop being stubborn." Bashir leant over and held the panel long enough for his friend to get a good grip. "I'm not being unreasonable, Garak. Please, just wear the coat."

"Not until we've finished here." Garak stood and Bashir watched his arms strain for a moment as he prised the battered panel off. He tossed it aside and plucked at a few burnt out wires. "Provided you're hiding a few metres of gold plate wire and a degree in engineering under that awful jacket, we'll be fine."

"The wire we can replicate..." Bashir mused. "And there's bound to be some kind of manual around here somewhere."

He started opening compartments while Garak rolled his eyes. "Please, Doctor, don't be absurd. This is not a civilian craft that comes with an instruction manual. We were meant to have an engineer or Starfleet qualified pilot aboard."

"Yes, well, we didn't." Bashir folded his arms and sat back down. "No one was available on short notice."

"And it's for the best they weren't or we would have even bigger energy problems than we're going to." Pale eyes flicked to an overhead display. "Unless you'd like to climb out again and see if you can repair the engine."

"I would have thought you were more qualified to do that than me," Bashir shivered, thinking about the cold out there. "I'm a doctor, not an engineer."

"I am fully aware of that," Garak said quietly. "I was attempting to tease you to alleviate your stress. It is a traditional thing to do in these circumstances, isn't it?"

Bashir sighed and reached out to pat Garak's arm. "Thanks for the sentiment. I'm just frustrated that I can't do anything. I'm not used to feeling helpless."

"We're both helpless right now." He sat down and looked at the panels. "The best I can suggest is that we disable all unnecessary panels. Anything we don't need or that has been damaged beyond use." He looked about, gaze calculating. "We don't need piloting functions, thought we may well need weaponry and shields."

"Weapons?" Bashir blinked.

"At the very least, a possible signal to where we are or useful for removing snow if a blizzard hits us. But there may be life out there. Hungry life." He gave Bashir a dark look.

"Oh. Of course." He rubbed his head. "I think the crash might have addled me a bit. Not having the benefit of an armour plated skull would do that."

The dark look disappeared instantly. "Are you sure you are unharmed?" A warm hand pressed the tender spot on his head. "You had better not be, what is the term... Playing the hero. Heroes too often wind up dead, and then who would I have lunch with?"

Bashir smiled slightly. "It's just a bruise, I'll be fine." He looked up. "I don't want to waste our supplies on a bruise when we could face worse later on."

"If you are certain..." Garak turned back to the panels, tapping his fingers as he muttered to himself, deciding which he was going to cut and which would get to stay online.

Bashir watched for a while, feeling a bit useless. He knew a bit about engineering; you didn't hang around with Miles O'Brien and not pick things up; but he simply didn't have the background knowledge on crash survival to be helpful to Garak right now.

He knew how to treat fatal injuries, use primitive sutures to close wounds and manually resurrect someone, but he had no idea if pulling that wire was going to cut power or get him electrocuted, despite the few courses he had taken back at the academy.

"Doctor, seal the cockpit. I'm going to cut the heat to the back rooms until we're finished in here." He wished the Cardassian would at least look at him when he was talking to him.

"That means we won't have access to the replicator or the rifles." Or the exit, should something dire happen. "What about sealing off just the bunk area?"

"I won't be needing the replicator. Not unless we plan on rigging up the controls to the bunk..." He sat up and looked thoughtful. "That's a better idea."

"What is?' Bashir wasn't sure he followed right now.

"We cut the power here and rig the systems to the bunk area. Seal off the cockpit and cut all life support in here. We go to the back areas; we're going to need those areas anyway, all the living facilities are back there." He looked at Bashir. "Go and remove the emergency panels back there. I'm going to shut down the cockpit."

"What if there's an emergency?" It was a good idea but it was risky. "What if we need to move the craft?"

"We can't." Garak shrugged. "We couldn't get more than a few metres anyway, so we're not sacrificing anything useful. We have the transporter and probably enough energy to beam out some distance if the worst reaches the worst."

Bashir thought about it. The cockpit was pretty badly damaged, and there weren't any controls they needed that couldn't be handled from the living area. "All right. In that case, you're wearing the coat."

He left the cockpit, but still heard the mumbled, "We're stranded on an ice cube with a crashed shuttle and he's still worrying about the bloody jacket."

He had to laugh.

0

It only took half an hour to double check all the controls in the bunk area and disconnect the cockpit. It was far cooler back here; the cockpit had been sealed in and warmed up at the expense of the rest of the shuttle earlier; and they really couldn't spare the energy to increase the heat rapidly, just try to keep it stable in here.

Bashir got them both a hot meal and drink from the main area. Garak was staunchly refusing to leave the bunks, his knees drawn to his chest. At least he'd conceded to the coat before he had been forced to abandon the warmth of the cockpit.

Closing the door, Bashir gave him one of the plates and a warm mug. "It's all pretty simple; I didn't want to waste mass and energy on anything lavish."

"I'm sure it's more than adequate, doctor." Garak took the plate, set it aside and wrapped his hands around the mug with a small sigh. "It is a luxury we did not have when I was on Potak Nar."

"I don't know that planet." Bashir said.

"It's not a planet." Garak said into his mug. His eyes were closed, soaking up the steam. "It was an orbital station in the middle of nowhere, observing stellar motion."

"Oh." He really wasn't sure what to make of it. It might have been real. Garak had an annoying habit of putting enough truth in his lies to fool the poor doctor. Irregardless, it would be a good story, knowing his friend. "What happened there?"

"We were observing a comet but the fool of a navigation officer miscalculated the path and we were caught in the tail. The gravity of a nearby star pulled it off course."

"I thought it was in the middle of nowhere." Bashir countered.

"It was. Nowhere has stars as well. Look at Deep Space Nine." He smirked slightly. "As I was saying, we were caught in the comet's tail. We lost everything except emergency life support and gravity. Everyone was trapped in the rooms they had been in, though there were few of us there."

He shifted closer. "What happened?"

"We were forced to survive on what we could scrounge. Both engineers had been killed and the engineer's assistant was crippled. We made do until we were finally rescued. Someone had been trying to contact us; and upon getting no reply, a team was sent to investigate." Garak smiled slightly and set aside the mug, picking up his plate instead. "What do you call this?"

"Um, beef and potato stew." Bashir felt a bit sheepish. "It always made me feel warmer when it was snowing. It has some spice in it, traditionally it should be cumin but I used a replacement with a bit more kick."

Garak nodded and slowly started to eat, absorbed in the meal. Bashir watched him for a moment before turning to his own meal.

They ate in silence for a while.

"Why were you there?"

The Cardassian looked up. "Hm?"

"Why were you on that station?" Bashir tilted his head a little.

"I was working there. I was the information officer." He smiled slightly and went back to eating.

"How old were you?" Bashir persisted.

"Not far from your age." Garak stated. "It was early in my career."

"I see." Bashir said.

He didn't ask any further. He wouldn't get anything else on that story.

0

It had been two hours since they had sealed themselves in the bunk area. Bashir had taken their plates and mugs out when he went to get a bowl from the replicator and piled it with fresh snow from outside. The scans said the snow was made of basic H2O, and would melt into perfectly safe drinking water. He left the bowl; it was more a pot or cauldron really; in the facilities to melt.

Since then, he had been sorting what little information they had gotten from their mission, surreptitiously watching as the Cardassian buried himself deeper into his coat.

It was starting to get cold. He didn't know a huge amount about Cardassian physiology, but he knew a few things. They were reptilian, only partially able to warm their own bodies. They could cope with the cold better than most reptiles, but eventually; given prolonged exposure; they would fall the way of their less evolved cousins and grow sluggish and slow.

He also knew that if he could get Garak to do some more exercise he would probably warm up a bit more. It was just how to get around the problem of making an irritable Cardassian exercise when all he'd want to do is sleep.

"Stop plotting, doctor. It doesn't suit you."

He looked up. "What?"

"Stop plotting. You're up to something; I can see it on your face. And since I am the only other person here, I assume you are plotting something around me. Stop it."

Definitely irritable. Bashir moved to sit next to his companions, taking one cooling hand in his own. "You're freezing."

"Not yet, but give me a few more hours and I might be." His eyes were still sharp and clear under the hood of the jacket. "However, I am not planning on letting it get that bad."

"No, me either." Bashir continued to rub the hand he held, noting the odd differences in their hands and the pale colour starting to overtake the Cardassian's extremities. "Get into the bed and curl up under the blankets. There's an electrical rug in the emergency cupboard. It's very efficient; we can run it for the same power outage of a control panel."

"No."

He blinked. "No?"

"I'm fine. Cold, but healthy." Garak drew his hand away and it disappeared into the folds of the jacket. "Are you quite all right, doctor?"

"Yes. I'm used to the cold. Almost comfortable in it." He smiled apologetically, as though this quirk were unforgivable. "I just want to make sure you're not playing the hero. Miles is dreadful for discussing literature with."

"Playing the hero isn't in the Cardassian nature, doctor." Garak buried his face again, but not before Bashir caught the slight smile.

"No, of course it isn't." Bashir agreed in good humour. "You'd never suffer and not tell anyone, being the open, communicative person you are."

"I'm very communicative, doctor. We talk all the time."

"And sometimes you nearly tell the truth." Bashir said agreeably.

"Sometimes," Garak said agreeably.

0

Bashir must have fallen asleep on the chair, because when he opened his eyes and checked his chronometer, another three hours had passed him by.

He looked up and saw pale eyes watching him from the darkness of the Cardassian's hood. He was trembling faintly, eyes heavy lidded.

The cold had must have woken him up. He noted that he was shivering as well.

"Garak?"

" 'm awake."

Did he just slur? Bashir got up and made his way over to his friend, sitting next to him. "Garak? Are you all right?"

Rather than nodding, he just sort of leant forwards and back again, hands buried under his arms.

Bashir gently touched Garak's cheek, hissing slightly. "You're barely warmer than the air. Get under the blankets, no arguing this time."

Together, they got the blankets untucked and out from under the Cardassian's considerable weight before Bashir tucked him under the blanket.

"I'm going to get the heated rug. Don't complain, once you're warm we can argue about wasting the power."

He went into the other room and got the emergency blanket. Garak didn't say a word, just half watched him as the thick wool was shoved under the blankets and it was connected up to the nearest terminal. Bashir set it at the highest setting and sat up against Garak, rubbing his shoulders to try and generate a bit of warmth.

If they could get the blankets and bedding warm, the insulating nature of the materials would keep the heat in. The problem was, Garak wasn't giving off enough heat to get the material warm.

"Is it improving?"

Sleepy blue eyes peered at him and he could almost see the question being ticked over. "Yes?"

He would have laughed if it weren't so serious. The Cardassian was almost cute with that sleepy confused look on his face. He reminded Bashir of a young snake he had once seen in the zoo. It had been cooled down to make it docile with the children.

Hesitating briefly, he lay down; on the blankets; and curled up behind his friend. When he was feeling better, Garak would undoubtedly be mortified at being helped by a Human, even if it was Bashir.

It didn't matter right now. He needed to be woken up enough to be mortified.

He leant over and saw that he was falling asleep. "Hey, Garak. You can't sleep. Not until you warm up."

He shook his friend until he opened his eyes again, half heartedly glaring back.

"You can't sleep. Your body temperature will drop if you go to sleep, and until you and the blankets are warm enough, going to sleep could kill you."

"So keep me awake," Garak said hoarsely. "Do something entertaining."

"Hm, I was going to say I could talk about my medical training, but that would probably put you to sleep." He laughed slightly. "Tell me a story. You're the one who has to stay awake. You should be active, not me."

"Story?" Once more, he watched those intense eyes fall half shut with thought. "All right. I will tell you a story told to me. A few years ago, there was a great ship, the pride of her people. On this ship was many people, many great people, but the story is about two lower ranked crew members."

"What did they do?" Bashir asked.

"I'm getting there." He was still speaking slowly, even for him. "One of these people was a pretty young female officer called Shel Baran. She was the ship's teacher, caring for the young children who lived there with their families."

"Okay," Bashir leant closer to hear the soft voice. "Who was the other one?"

"Be quiet, doctor, and let me tell you. The other was a senior security officer. He was called..." Garak hummed thoughtfully. "Olik Jurin. Yes, Officer Jurin."

Bashir noted that he was still trembling, but his voice was a little surer.

"These two were very unlikely friends. Jurin was constantly annoyed at the freedom that Shel gave her children, and Shel could not understand why Jurin was so strict with the young ones. Despite this, they were friends, and very good ones."

"Why was Jurin so strict with the children?"

"Ah, maybe you should ask why Shel was not stricter with the children, rather than assume that Jurin was the one at fault." Garak smirked, and Bashir felt much better at the slightly teasing tone.

"All right. Why wasn't Shel stricter with the children?"

"Who can say?" Garak looked insufferably smug. "She simply was, and it annoyed Jurin no end, but he never scolded Shel for it, because it was something he found endearing about her."

"Did Jurin love Shel?"

"Doctor, if you interrupt one more time I will refuse to continue."

"I'm sorry." He lay back down, burying his face against the Cardassian's back. "Go on."

"Yes, Jurin loved Shel. At first he was merely enchanted by her looks, but he found everything about her enchanting, even the things that annoyed him. Shel also loved Jurin, despite his gruffness and sometimes curt manners."

Garak fell into a thoughtful silence. After a few moments Bashir leant back and poked the hard muscles in front of him.

"What is it, doctor?"

"Just checking that you're awake."

"I was remembering the story. Anyway, one day the ship came under attack. This was not of much concern, but one of the enemy's shots hit the lower decks where the children; and Shel; were.

"Jurin went down there and found the children in their classroom with Shel. She was trying to hold open the door long enough for the children to escape, but she was not strong enough.

"Jurin took the weight of the door from the injured woman. The children crawled through, but another blast hit the ship, and the door collapsed onto Jurin. He was fatally injured, lying under the rubble, having pushed Shel outside the debris."

Who ever knew that the Cardassian's had love stories? Bashir always imagined their love stories would be arranged marriages that best benefited the State and dying in the name of Cardassia.

"Shel crawled to Jurin and sobbingly confessed her secret love. He took her hand and told her that he could never have loved as more than student."

Garak fell silent.

"Then what?" Bashir demanded.

"What do you mean, then what? That's it."

"He doesn't tell her with his dying breath that he loves her? So that she knows her love was returned?"

"No." Garak rolled over to look Bashir in the eye. "What if he had? She would have lived the rest of her life knowing that if she had acted earlier, they could have had good times together before he died. This way, he dies with the love of his life, and she can move on, believing that there was never hope in the relationship, and she has not lost her life mate. She can love again, and not cling to the memory of love that might have been."

"That is so bloody Cardassian!" Bashir exclaimed.

"Of course it is. It is a Cardassian tale. What else would you expect? That it would be a Klingon story of heroics or a Human story to love conquering all? We are far more pragmatic than that, Bashir."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "I should have expected nothing else from your people. Any race that considers the truth to be a disgrace..."

Garak smirked. "There are so many things far more interesting than the truth. Why settle for second best?"

They both smiled slightly until Bashir started chuckling. He sobered after a few moments, but he was still glad to see the spark of life back in Garak's eyes. "Do you feel better?"

"Somewhat." Garak closed his eyes. "I feel well enough to know I was overconfident before." He shifted a little deeper into the blankets, looking at Bashir with suddenly sombre eyes. "Are you warm enough, doctor?"

Honestly, no. He smiled and nodded. "I'm fine."

"Doctor... leave the obfuscation to those who are good at it. Your lips have a distinctive; and not exactly attractive; blue colour to them."

"I'll be okay. Let me worry about you for a while."

"You can't worry about me if you've dropped unconscious."

"I'm just going to move about for a while." Bashir got up and started to bounce on the spot to prove his point. "Get some sleep. I'm awake now; I can keep watch for anything coming. You must be exhausted."

The silence was the Cardassian's way of conceding that point. "Are you sure you're warm enough, doctor?"

"I'll be warm enough for a few hours while you grab some sleep."

With obvious reluctance, Garak disappeared under the blankets, his voice wafting out. "Wake me up if you need sleep, doctor."

"I will, Garak." But he suspected the Cardassian was already asleep.

to be continued...