Chapter Text
Stardate: 50973.8
“Yamok sauce,” Kira muttered as she inspected a cargo container. “Who would bother to smuggle in ten thousand wrappages of Cardassian yamok sauce?”
A second later, it hit her.
“Oh. Quark,” she said. “That little worm. He thinks the Cardassians are going to retake the station!”
Dax shrugged. “He’s a Ferengi. You can’t blame him for hedging his bets.”
Kira sighed, focusing on her tricorder.
“But it is a lot of yamok sauce,” Dax admitted. “What is a yamok, anyway?”
A gruff voice came from behind her. “What would you like me to do with it?”
Odo.
Kira’s stomach tightened. She couldn’t bring herself to look his way.
“Major?” Dax prompted.
Kira glanced up. “I don’t care, you decide.”
“Dump it,” Dax said.
“Very good,” Odo muttered.
His footsteps retreated.
Kira hated the way her stomach loosened the moment he was out of earshot. He was her friend. He didn’t deserve her cold shoulder.
She could accept that his counterpart’s actions belonged in another timeline.
That her Odo had never erased eight thousand lives.
Had never disregarded her beliefs.
Had he?
But those words rang in her mind—
I love you, Nerys.
Now that his feelings were out in the open, would he press for more?
How would she even respond?
She didn’t feel the way he did—did she?
And—dare she wonder—
Was he capable of what his counterpart had done? Did that potential lie buried within him?
He was so closed off, kept so much to himself.
How could she know for sure?
She only knew one thing: loving her was not reason enough to erase eight thousand. And her Odo had seemed almost to defend it.
“I don’t know,” he’d said. “He thought so.”
Dax’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Would you mind telling me what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Odo!” Dax said. “You’ve been avoiding each other for weeks.”
“Oh, it’s a long story,” Kira said as she continued her scan of the cargo bay.
“Those are the best kind.”
Kira rounded a row of barrels, sighing. “Odo has…feelings for me.”
“What kind of feelings?”
Kira glanced up. “The kind that aren’t easy to talk about?”
“Since when?”
“Since, I don’t know—years,” Kira said. “I just found out about it last month.”
Dax was silent for a beat. Then, “That explains a lot.”
“It does?”
“From my zhian’tara,” Dax said. “Curzon retained memories of some of Odo’s experiences. Like shapeshifting. But there was something else, something nebulous. Something I could never quite figure out.”
Kira frowned. “Oh?”
“I can see now.” A wistful smile teased Dax’s face. “It was love. Forbidden love.”
Kira stared at her.
“…Sorry,” Dax said, contrite. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Can we just focus on the cargo scan?”
Dax pressed her lips together. “Yep.”
*
“You wanted to see me, Constable?”
Tension radiated off Kira as she entered his office and clutched the crest of the guest chair. Tension that Odo would do just about anything to banish.
It had been over a month since the events of Gaia. He’d wondered, inexperienced as he was with humanoid relationships, if she were waiting for him to make the next expected move in a courtship. If that were the case, perhaps a dinner invitation could break the thickening ice between them. Was it possible she seemed so uncomfortable because he was failing in his mimicry of humanoid behaviors?
More likely, because she didn’t return his feelings.
And how could she? He knew the truth. His counterpart on Gaia had twisted the Link against him; that maybe had only ever been an illusion. He was undeserving of her love. And the worst of it was, ultimately, Gaia didn’t even make a difference.
The Founder had put it plainly, back on that moon in the Badlands: he was a Changeling.
He needed to let her off the hook.
Duty first, Odo, he reminded himself. Feelings later.
“Major,” he said, “I’d like your permission to terminate all outgoing subspace communications.”
“You really think that’s necessary?”
“This is no time for security leaks…”
It was almost easier, focusing on duty, on their jobs.
Almost.
He was practiced at using duty as a shield. But still, he could have cut the air between them with a knife. She was tiptoeing around him, her hesitation bleeding into her professionalism. In the cargo bay earlier, her discomfort with him had very nearly interfered with station business.
For that matter, he wasn’t much more focused than she was. He was just better at hiding it.
She turned to leave.
“Major,” he called, just as she faced his office doors.
She didn’t turn, at first. When she did, reluctantly, she kept her eyes trained on the deck plating.
He rounded his desk. “There’s something you ought to know.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve been thinking about…asking you out…to dinner.”
Finally, she met his eyes. She walked toward him, her chin held steady, looking as if she were bracing herself for a court martial.
Was the notion of his love really so terrible?
Of course it is.
“I’ve been expecting something like this,” she said.
“I could tell,” Odo said. “You’ve looked a little uncomfortable around me lately.”
“You’ve looked a little uncomfortable yourself.”
He sighed. “Which is why I wanted you to know I’m not going to do it. No dinner invitations, no flowers, no attempts at changing the nature of our relationship. Until the current crisis has passed, we both need our minds to be clear—to be free of any unnecessary distractions.”
To his relief, her whole face relaxed.
“Well, that’s probably a good idea.” She sank down into the guest chair—her chair. “So for now, all we need to concern ourselves with is deploying the minefield, maintaining station security, and…preparing ourselves for a possible invasion.”
The tension in Odo’s matrix released.
How was it that an invasion sounded more surmountable than navigating his relationship with one Bajoran major?
“Well, I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I feel more comfortable already.”
As he settled against the edge of his desk, a smile bloomed across her face, bright and vibrant. He couldn’t help his own soft, fond smile.
He’d thought he’d never see her smile at him again.
*
Bajor
“Is this it?”
The Jem’Hadar troops froze. The First turned, saw her, and promptly dropped to its knees.
“Founder,” it gasped.
“Answer the question.”
“Yes, Founder.”
A small, satisfied smile graced her mouth as she surveyed the cavern in which she stood. There was no fire, of course; the writings that the Bajorans called religious texts were nothing but primitive superstition. But there was a presence here. She could feel it as distinctly as she could feel the mind of any Solid she chose to impersonate.
“You’re certain these creatures can be engineered?” she asked.
“They will be,” the First declared. “Or else we will die trying.”
Tiresome Jem’Hadar posturing. Still, she couldn’t fault it for obeying its programming. That “victory or death” attitude made for efficient fighting machines and effective enforcement of Dominion rule.
“Good,” she said. “See that it’s done.”
Perhaps the Changeling who had briefly replaced the Federation doctor had not died needlessly after all.
*
Stardate: 50975.5 | Deep Space Nine
The station shuddered under weapon fire as Odo marched into Ops at Kira’s side.
“The Defiant’s away,” he reported from tactical.
“Contact the Dominion fleet.” Kira’s shoulders were squared, tense but strong. “Tell them…the Bajoran government welcomes them to Deep Space Nine.”
“Message acknowledged.”
“Good,” she said. “That’s the last message this station will be sending out for a while. Computer, initiate program Sisko-1-9-7.”
There was something oddly satisfying about watching every console in Ops overload. A statement. A stand. But best of all was the set of Kira’s jaw as she stood beside him, steel in her eyes.
“Dukat wanted the station back?” she said as they made for the turbolift. “He can have it.”
*
Three years ago, Odo would never have believed this moment would come.
Nor would he have felt even close to the sense of duty, of loyalty, that he did now.
The Federation was in retreat. Gul Dukat stood before him on the promenade, here to reclaim Deep Space Nine, the Dominion at his back. But Odo stood at Kira’s back, and—circumstances aside—there was no place he’d rather be.
“Gentlemen,” Kira said, “on behalf of the Bajoran government—”
“—and the Promenade Merchants’ Association,” Quark cut in, next to them.
“—I officially welcome you to Deep Space Nine,” Kira finished.
Dukat tilted his head. “You mean…Terok Nor, don’t you?”
Tension spread through Odo’s matrix, twisting and clenching his cells. Nevertheless, he stood motionless, his face the impassive mask he knew it needed to be, his hands clasped behind his back. He could deal with Dukat. He’d done it before.
What set him on edge, though, was Weyoun’s supplicant posturing.
The reminder that his own people were behind this war.
That his people had engineered both the Vorta and the Jem’Hadar, stripped them of their independent wills, enslaved them as servants.
That Weyoun saw him as a Founder.
As a god.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that it made him complicit in his people’s crimes.
“I’m not here as a Founder,” Odo groused. “I’m the station’s chief of security.”
“Whatever you say,” Weyoun said. “Nevertheless, having a…god walk amongst us is most gratifying.”
“I agree.” An oily smile slithered across Dukat’s face. “You…me…the Major…together again? It should be most interesting.”
He shouldered his way between them as he headed down the promenade.
Three months into the Dominion Occupation, Odo found himself sitting with Kira in—of all places—Quark’s bar.
How had that become their go-to spot?
“Weyoun asked me about you,” Kira was saying. “He seemed very concerned with what you thought of him.”
Odo scoffed. “I try not to think of him.”
“He’d be hurt to hear you say that,” she said. “I’ll have to mention it to him.”
An unlikely smile teased her mouth, warming him from the inside out.
“I’m glad you can still smile,” he said.
She sighed. “Only when I’m with you.”
Shock crystallized through his matrix.
She…what?
He made her smile?
More than that—he made it possible for her to smile? After everything he’d put her through?
Surely this was just a platitude?
“That’s kind of you to say,” he said.
“No, it’s true,” she insisted. “When I talk to you, things don’t seem as bad.”
He could hardly believe his ears.
All he knew was that he would do absolutely everything in his power not to lose her confidence again.
*
If he’d had blood, Odo was certain it would be boiling.
As it was, he was thankful he didn’t. Thankful that his Changeling nature made it so much easier to maintain a calm facade.
Kira paced before his desk, fresh from an encounter with Dukat. “You should have seen the arrogant, smug look on his face. He was in control, and there was nothing I could do about it!”
Odo hated seeing her like this.
Hated seeing Dukat slither under her skin, rile her up.
He didn’t mind handling Dukat, not if he could do it at Kira’s side. But if he had anything to say about it, Dukat would live to regret the day he’d ever looked Kira’s way.
Kira rounded on him. “The war isn’t over yet, but as far as Dukat is concerned, he’s already won. I would love to show him that he’s wrong!”
“Well, for the moment, at least, I’m afraid he has won,” Odo muttered. “Look at me!” He spread his hands uselessly. “I don’t know why I bother to sit here every day. I don’t even have a security force to patrol the promenade!”
“Then ask for one,” Kira said. “Demand that they reinstate your Bajoran deputies.”
He shook his head. “Dukat will never agree to that.”
“Forget about Dukat! Go to Weyoun, he’ll listen to you!” She planted her palms on his desk. “As far as he’s concerned, you are a god, and that gives you power!”
Odo looked away.
He would not treat his people’s supplicants the same way the Founders did. He would not be like them.
“But what good is power if you’re not willing to use it?”
Inevitably, his eyes found hers.
Funny, that she was demanding that he use his power over the Vorta; he was powerless before the intensity in her eyes.
*
“Forgive the interruption,” Damar said as Odo stepped over the threshold of the wardroom behind him, “but he insisted on seeing you immediately.”
Weyoun’s entire face changed. He approached Odo, his hands already spread to either side as he lowered his eyes.
Odo’s matrix twisted in on itself. Nevertheless, he drew his back straight, bracing himself.
If Kira asked it of him…
“Founder,” Weyoun murmured. “I’m honored by your visit. Is there some way I can be of service?”
Honored.
Odo had done nothing to earn that.
“I want my Bajoran security officers reinstated,” he said.
“Consider it done.”
“From now on, they’ll be responsible for security on the promenade.”
At least Weyoun was looking him in the eye. “I don’t see any problem with that.”
“I do,” Dukat interjected.
Weyoun wheeled. “This is between me and Odo! I’ll thank you to keep out of it.”
Dukat said nothing, only glanced Damar’s way.
Odo followed his gaze. “I’ll have my officers report to the armory within the hour.”
Weyoun lowered his eyes in deference, and Odo turned to go. But he had barely gotten two steps before Weyoun spoke again.
“Now that I’ve done something for you,” he said, “perhaps there’s something you’d consent to do for me.”
Odo’s eyes widened slightly.
Were those the words of a supplicant Vorta?
And yet…how could he refuse to respect whatever shred of free will was left in his people’s servants?
*
Once again, Odo found himself in Quark’s, the only place on this occupied station where he and Kira could speak freely.
Odd, how times had changed.
“A member of the station’s ruling council?” Kira repeated. “You?”
Odo nodded. “Along with Weyoun and Dukat. Now I’ll have a voice in station policy.”
He couldn’t quite parse why Weyoun had asked this of him. Because it pained the Vorta to see his god without a position of power, even if it undermined his own? Or did he have some ulterior motive?
“You sure this is a good idea?” Kira asked.
“Dukat thought it was a terrible idea.” Which was, in Odo’s opinion, almost reason enough to accept. “You should’ve seen his face when Weyoun offered me the position.”
“But don’t you see that Weyoun is using you?” Kira said. “Your presence on the council validates the Dominion control of the station.”
“I thought we were using him.”
Kira sighed.
“I know the danger, Major,” Odo said. “I’ve had to—to walk this line before, during the Cardassian occupation. I can do it again, but this time, I won’t be alone. I’ll have you to help me.”
He offered his hand, and was rewarded when she clasped it. “That’s right, you will.”
He managed a smile, hoping Kira would mirror it. “Then this is a victory after all.”
“I suppose it is,” she murmured. She dropped his hand. “But for some reason, it just doesn’t feel like one.”
He tilted his head, taking in her features, wishing he could ease the worry from her face.
He didn’t relish the prospect of walking this line again, either. His tenure as chief of security on Terok Nor was a dark time in his life he’d rather not repeat. But Weyoun had offered him an opportunity he couldn’t pass up, not if it gave him some leverage over this occupation.
And with Kira at his side, it wouldn’t be so bad.
For her, he’d play Weyoun’s game—and swallow down his shame.
Reporters, Odo was fairly certain, were not supposed to have an agenda of their own. At least, not Federation reporters.
Jake Sisko clearly had one.
“I understand that a decision’s been made to send four thousand Dominion facilitators down to Bajor,” he said. “Would you care to elaborate?”
Where did he even get his information?
Kira, it seemed, was right on the same page. “It’s only four hundred, and how did you hear about that? The official announcement isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.”
“I hear things,” Jake said, not for the first time. “So, could you elaborate? My readers want to know what’s going on.”
“You don’t have any readers,” Odo said. “Weyoun is still blocking the transmission of your stories.”
“For now,” Jake said. “But what if he changes his mind? Don’t you want to explain what’s going on here to the outside world?”
Odo and Kira exchanged a glance.
Finally, Kira sighed. “Ever since the war started, Bajor’s been completely cut off from all outside trade. We’ve had nowhere to turn for things like spare parts or medical supplies, nowhere—except the Dominion.”
Odo couldn’t restrain his wince. The Dominion held Bajor in the palm of its hand. Only the nonaggression pact held it back from a full-scale invasion.
“So,” Kira continued, “a group of facilitators is going to Bajor for a few months to provide some technical assistance.”
Jake tapped at his PADD. “How do you respond to critics like Vedek Yassim who say that by welcoming a group of Vorta to Bajor, you’re taking the first step towards Dominion occupation?”
First step? Odo thought. The first step had been when the Dominion overtook the station.
But his priority was to maintain order and keep Bajor unscathed by violence. He couldn’t have Jake spreading stories that stoked fear or encouraged dissent.
He folded his arms. “I have been assured that the facilitators will be unarmed and unaccompanied by any Jem’Hadar soldiers.”
“Odo,” Jake said, “do you have any concerns that by joining the ruling council here on the station, you’re validating the occupation?”
Just what he needed—a guilt trip.
“The Dominion doesn’t need my validation,” he said. “They’re here, and they’re not leaving—not without a fight, at least.”
That was what he kept telling himself, anyway.
“You finished?” Kira asked.
“Almost, almost,” Jake said.
Kira sighed.
“Will either of you be attending the demonstration tomorrow?”
Odo startled. He looked to Kira with alarm.
“The what?” Kira said.
“Vedek Yassim has organized a demonstration on the promenade tomorrow afternoon,” Jake said. “To protest the Dominion occupation of the station.”
Oh, for the Prophets’ sake.
“That’s all the excuse Dukat will need to order a new security crackdown,” Odo muttered.
Kira rubbed her eye. “I’ll talk to Yassim.”
“So, you’re going to abolish the right to protest here on the station?” Jake asked.
Odo squinted at him.
“Hey, I’m not trying to accuse you personally of anything,” Jake said, smiling awkwardly. “I’m just asking questions.”
“I think this interview is over,” Kira said, standing.
Odo favored Jake with a look. “I couldn’t agree more.”
*
The next afternoon found Odo standing watch at the Bajoran shrine, waiting to see if Yassim would turn up to cause trouble. So far, all was quiet.
Kira soon joined him, and Jake shortly turned up as well, PADD in hand.
“Don’t think there’s going to be any story here for you today, Jake,” Kira said.
“You sure?” Jake asked. “I got a message from Vedek Yassim saying the protest was starting at exactly 1400.”
“It certainly doesn’t look like it,” Kira said.
But a commotion on the promenade was niggling at Odo’s attention.
“What’s she doing?” someone called out.
In a flash, Odo looked up—to find Vedek Yassim herself grasping the balustrade of the second level, a noose around her neck.
“Evil must be opposed!” she cried.
Time seemed to move in slow motion. There was nothing Odo could do but watch as Yassim stepped off the edge and plummeted; as Kira started forward, and he reached for her automatically, grasping her by the arm. He heard the snap of Yassim’s neck as her hat dropped to the floor.
His other hand had found Kira’s shoulder, but he was aware of little else but Vedek Yassim’s body, suspended on a rope.
*
Odo found Kira on the second level, standing in the very spot where Yassim had the day before.
“Damar has been trying to contact you for the past five hours,” he said quietly.
She opened her hand, revealing her combadge resting in her palm.
“I keep going over it and over it in my mind,” she said. “And I can’t believe that…that I stood there…ready to use force to stop a protest against the Dominion. Me. When I was in the Resistance, I despised people like me.”
She turned, looked at him.
“I’m a collaborator, Odo.”
“That’s not true,” Odo said. “You’re doing exactly what Captain Sisko wanted you and the rest of Bajor to do—remain neutral and stay out of the fighting.”
But she wasn’t listening.
“We used to have a saying in the Resistance,” she said. “If you’re not fighting them, you’re helping them.”
Odo sighed.
“Half the Alpha Quadrant is out there right now, fighting for my freedom, but not me,” she said. “What am I doing? Eating a full meal every day, sleeping in a soft bed—I even write reports for the murderers who run this station.”
“These are difficult times for everyone.” He drew in a trembling breath. “Do you think it’s easy for me to sit down with Dukat and Weyoun every day while they plot the destruction of the Federation?”
His shame had become a routine, a holding pattern. But he would bear it, for her.
“Odo.” She turned, grasping his arms; he couldn’t help but be drawn to her eyes. “I’m not pointing a finger at you. I’m the one who told you to get more involved in the first place. No, this is about me.” She released him, looking back over the promenade below. “This is about being able to get up in the morning and look in the mirror and not feel nauseated by what I see.”
Well, he could certainly understand that. More than she even knew.
“Yassim was right,” she murmured. “I have to do something. I have to start to fight back.”
“That would be a mistake,” Odo said. “Active resistance will trigger a crackdown—”
“Odo.” She caught his gaze. “I don’t want to end up fighting you, too…but if I have to, I will.”
A shudder coursed through his substance.
Did she have any idea of the power she held over him?
Of the lengths he would go to for her?
Of the pain he would gladly endure, if it meant supporting her, seeing her smile, hearing her laugh again?
If she triggered a crackdown, he couldn’t protect her. But she’d drawn her terms, and there was no universe where Odo could stand for her to fight him.
He glanced warily to either side. “Alright. But let’s find a more discreet place to plan the new resistance?”
They were in Quark’s. Again.
How had that Ferengi’s bar become the most secure location on the station—excepting either of their quarters, of course—to discuss plans for the resistance?
“The next thing we need,” Kira said, “is a secure way to communicate with our contacts on Bajor.”
Odo sighed, shaking his head. “The Cardassians are extremely adept at locating the source of any illicit subspace transmission.”
He would know. He had worked for them before—properly. Not as Kira’s friend walking the line, but as a law enforcement officer with no loyalties.
He’d rather not think about how many illicit subspace transmissions he’d tracked down himself.
“Well, we’ll just have to be smarter than they are,” Kira said.
Odo sighed again.
“Hi,” Jake suddenly said, walking up to their table. He plopped straight down onto a chair. “Mind if I join you?”
“You already have,” Odo said.
“I want in,” Jake said.
“In on what?” Odo asked.
“Your resistance cell.”
“What cell?” Kira asked.
“Come on, Major,” Jake said. “I have my sources.”
“How reassuring,” Odo said.
“I can help,” Jake insisted.
“How?” Odo asked.
“As a reporter, I hear things,” Jake said. “People talk to me.”
“About what?” Kira asked.
“Major,” Jake said, “all I’m asking for is a chance.”
Odo glanced over at Kira. He was following her lead, avoiding her ire—the decision would be hers. But he’d be lying if he said he harbored no reservations about involving Captain Sisko’s son in resistance activities.
Jake might be an irritating reporter, but Odo had watched that boy grow up.
Before Kira could answer, Quark approached. “It’s time, Major.”
Kira sighed. “Already?”
“1457 hours,” Quark said. “The shuttle will be docking in three minutes.”
“I better get going,” Kira muttered. “Don’t want to keep him waiting.”
She pushed up from the table.
“I see Gul Dukat’s still having you meet him every time he returns to the station,” Jake said.
Kira just looked at him.
Jake shrugged a little. “Like I said, I hear things.”
Odo shook his head, defeated.
He was really getting tired of hearing that. It was doing him no favors when it came to his anxieties over maintaining order—which, he was sure, Kira was soon to render nearly impossible.