Something found Julian's foot and yanked. His fall was somewhat cushioned by the sick layer of vegetation, but it still managed to knock the breath out of him. The something started dragging him backwards, making ominous scratching sounds over his armored boot. Julian pulled out his phaser… and realized pretty quickly that he had nothing to aim at. He couldn’t even see the limb that was dragging him. After all the crap he had survived during this war, he was going to end up dinner on an overgrown planetoid. The irony was stifling.
"A little help here!"
A whine of a phaser, and he exhaled in relief. There were two very familiar feet in front of his nose. He set up and used the proffered hand to pull himself upright. His leg seemed to be just fine. He mentally thanked the Universe for Klingon-made armor.
In front of him, the man attired in the mish-mash of Klingon and Cardassian armor was smiling slightly. Julian has long ago learned not to take it personally.
"Tell me," he said, still huffing a bit from all the excitement, "I thought you and Dukat have buried the hatchet, so to speak…"
"Indeed we have, dear Doctor."
"Then why, for all the darkness in space, did he arranged for the supply depot on this space forsaken bit of rock?!"
"Really, Doctor, just because the local fauna is a bit feisty, there is no reason to malign the place. Besides, I am pretty sure that Dukat feels the place is very homelike." It was Julian's turn to look incredulous. "Truly, this landscape reminds me of Firewater swamps. That's where they used to train Cardassian military, you know. Explains a lot about Dukat, if you ask me."
For a second they exchanged looks of perfect understanding. Nothing further was said about the world lost to the Dominion advance. They will get it back. If even Garak and Dukat can fight on the same side, how can they fail?