Talk:Kelas Parmak

Garak and Parmak: lovers?
The nature of Elim Garak and Kelas Parmak's relationship in [[The Crimson Shadow] is quite evasive. Therefore it would be inappropriate to classify it. Some of the relevant sections of text are

Chapter Three
Garak had invited along another Cardassian, a man of about his age whom he had called “my very good friend, Kelas Parmak.” Crusher, learning that Parmak too was a doctor, quickly fell into conversation with him about various health-care projects under way across the Union.

[...]

After the captain and the doctor departed, Elim Garak and Kelas Parmak remained outside for a long while, amongst the memorials and the long shadows cast by the lamplight, and they were comfortable enough together not to talk. Garak pottered around peacefully, pulling a few weeds and deadheading some wilted flowers with the ruthlessness of the experienced gardener who knows that they will bloom again. “I remember us rebuilding these, Elim,” Parmak said, at last, gesturing to the nearest of the memorials. “After Mondrig’s men kicked them down. It was dawn when we finished. You and I and Alon Ghemor stood here together and watched the sun rise. I was exhausted, but I remember feeling more hopeful than I’d ever been before in my life.” He rubbed his eye-ridge. “Poor Alon.” Garak did not reply. Savagely, he dealt with some longweed that was winding its way around the mekla. Despite his offhand treatment of the subject over dinner, tomorrow’s debate was preying on his mind. “Are you worried about Temet?” Parmak asked, watching him. “I’m always worried about those who demonstrate lust for power. Always.” “So what are you doing about it?”

[...]

Garak sat down and wiped the soil from his hands. Parmak, who knew him, had guessed correctly: there was indeed another motive behind his desire for this alliance. Something that went much deeper than calculating the odds and deciding that the Accords were a better bet for his world than the Pact. Softly, he said, “What we choose to do at this point in our history is critical for us, Kelas. I’m no longer willing to allow us to indulge our worst impulses. My intention is to remake the Cardassian soul.” Parmak looked at him fondly, and with great compassion. “Nothing too ambitious, then?” Garak laughed. “Merely a small project to keep my mind ticking over as I approach old age. And I must thank you for your contribution to my diplomatic efforts tonight, Kelas. I cannot think of anyone better to demonstrate to Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher that decency is a universal quality, and that not all our people lust for power.” “So you do have Temet in mind.” Parmak all but rubbed his hands together. “I cannot wait for tomorrow. What are you going to do to him?” “I’m going to do exactly what Rakena Garan’s aides tell me to do. Temet is unequivocally her business. She’s the one that has to secure a consensus in the Assembly to defeat him and remain castellan.” Garak looked longingly around his garden. “I’ve been thinking of retirement.” Parmak snorted. “You? Retire? Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll die with your boots on.” Garak shuddered. “Don’t say things like that.” “This is why I don’t believe you’re not playing some game,” Parmak said. “It doesn’t sound like you, letting someone else run the show.” “I promise you, Kelas, I had no intention of finding myself exposed to such public scrutiny. I let my concentration slip for a moment, and the castellan volunteered me.” “What do you have in mind for him?” Garak shifted uneasily. “I could, of course, do what I did in the past. Pursue Temet with impunity. Set out to destroy him, and have him destroyed. But if I’ve learned anything from our bitter and bloody history, it’s that I cannot control everything, and that trying to do so only leads to murder. I’m not going to forget that. I’m never going to forget that.” Parmak stood up. He went over to his friend and put his hand on his shoulder. “Good,” he said. “Good.” They smiled at each other. Above them, a few faint stars twinkled in an obsidian sky. “And so I have to trust our people,” Garak said, “will not fall for the lies of a man like Temet. In my heart, I believe that most of our compatriots feel the same as we do—that each of us who lived through those years bears some responsibility, however slight, for the calamity that overcame us, and that denying this will only bring us full circle. Perhaps destroy us for good, next time. Therefore it is incumbent upon each of us to prevent it happening ever again.” “A lot of people suffered, Elim. It’s easier to blame than to accept blame.” “I know. I also know that few have hands as bloody as mine. But in my heart, Kelas”—he tapped his chest—“I believe our people have become wise. They won’t listen to a Dukat again.” “It’s good to hear you sounding optimistic.” “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. . . .” Garak shivered, suddenly. “It’s getting colder. Shall we go inside? A game of kotra and kanar before bed?” Parmak laughed. “But you always win, Elim!” “And thus the time when you must win is surely close at hand.” They clasped hands, and Parmak pulled Garak to his feet. “I’m not convinced of the logic of that,” Parmak said, but he accepted his inevitable fate, and they went inside, and closed the doors, and settled down opposite each other with the board in between. And, although the Cardassian ambassador to the Federation’s preoccupation with what might occur the following day allowed his opponent numerous unexpected openings, Parmak’s time did not, in fact, come. As the contest moved toward the endgame, Garak relaxed and secured a comfortable victory. But the board upon which he was accustomed to playing was set to change, irrevocably.

The end of Chapter Ten
Less than a quarter of an hour passed before Kelas Parmak arrived. The two men embraced. Parmak, when he could speak, did so with a tragic mixture of relief and reproach. "How could you do this to me?" "I'm sorry," Garak said, his voice thick. "Will you forgive me?" "Forgive you? Oh, Elim. When have I ever not forgiven you?"

Chapter Eleven
Garak saw the final cut of his interview with Mayrat at home, in the company of Parmak. He watched his friend covertly throughout. It was, he thought, rather like watching a dust storm gather. When they reached the part where Garak announced his candidacy for the castellanship, Parmak made a soft hissing noise, which he swiftly cut off, and listened to the rest of the interview in stony silence. [...] The piece ended. Garak waited. “Well,” said Parmak, putting down his glass with a clatter. “I think I can guess whose side he’s going to be on throughout the upcoming cavalcade of speeches and meetings.” “I know what you’re thinking,” Garak said. “I want to assure you that this is not a decision I came to lightly.” Parmak stood up and walked toward the window. The memorials were just about visible in the dusk. “You know your own mind best, of course. I doubt there’s anything I could say to stop you doing this. Besides, it all seems well under way already.” Garak put down his glass and stood up. He walked over to join Parmak. Slowly, hesitantly, he put his hand on the other man’s arm. “Don’t be angry with me. I don’t think I could bear that.” “Why would I be angry with you?” “Why would you not?” “I’m not angry. . . !” Parmak shook his head. “No, I’m not. I’m truly not. But I am worried about you. What I want to know is—are you sure about this, Elim? Are you sure that this is the best choice for you?” Garak didn’t reply for a while. He turned to look out of the window at the battered city that lay before them. Eventually, he said, in a low voice, “I’m less sure of this than I have been of anything in my life, Kelas. You know the kind of man my father was. You know what power did to him. He was monstrous. As monstrous as Dukat—no, more so, because of how long he was able to indulge his excesses. And for years I molded myself in his image. I tried to make myself like him. You know that better than anyone. . . .” He took a deep breath. “Nobody died this time, Kelas. At least, not by my hand. I played the game, yes—but I did not initiate it, and I did not. . . I did not do all that I might once have done.” Parmak turned and put his hand upon Garak’s shoulder. “You’re not like him now,” he said. “You haven’t been for a long time.” “I hope that’s true. I’m terrified it might not be true.” “I know it’s true,” said Parmak, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Do you think you can win?” Garak gave him a crooked smile. “Do you want to win?” “I certainly don’t want to lose.” “You mean to Temet?” “I mean at all.” “Will you feel safe out there, out in the public eye?” “With all that security surrounding me? I’ll be the safest I’ve been since I joined the Obsidian Order. And. . .” Garak swallowed. “And there’s the scrutiny, Kelas. The checks and the balances. Most of all, I’ll be safe from myself.” “I see. So you’ll be safe, from everyone up to and including yourself. Good. But will you be happy, Elim?” “Probably not. Have you met the kind of idiot who gets elected to the Assembly? I imagine I’ll spend most of my time infuriated. But I certainly won’t be bored.” Parmak sighed. “I suspect you won’t. And I suspect I won’t get bored watching you.” A slow smile curved across the lips of Cardassia’s most irrepressible son. “Who knows? It might even turn out to be fun.”

After the Fall
Garak read on; not to annoy his companion, whom he loved, but because he was near the end of his book, which he loved too. Breathlessly, he watched Anne Elliot read the letter than Captain Wentworth had written, and, slowly, he began to relax as they put aside their history and escaped the choices of the past. When he came to the end, he closed the book and pressed it between his hands, holding its world to him for as long as he could.

"I'll be there in a moment," Garak called back, and then, softly, said to Parmak, "Why do I feel as if I'm about to hear a sentence passed?" "Why do you feel as if you should?" They stared at each other. THen Garak looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Parmak, seeing this, took them within his. "You;ll be fine. It's all going to be fine." "I hope so." "I know so." The doctor leaned in and - quickly, affectionately - pressed his lips against the other man's brow. "I trust you," he said. "I forgive you."