Chapter Text
Kira wouldn’t look at him.
She sat more or less across from Odo around the captain’s common-room table, rigid, tense. Throughout dinner, she’d been all too eager to make eye contact with the others whenever someone else spoke.
Seated next to her was T’Sorra, the acting chief of security. The captain had invited her as a courtesy; after all, they would be working with her as closely as they once had with Eddington. It was Odo’s first time meeting her. It would still be a few days before he reported to relieve her of duty.
“So, Constable,” Sisko said suddenly, “how was Bajor?”
Odo gave a start. “I’m sorry?”
“You spent the last week there, didn’t you?” Sisko asked. “You must have a few stories.”
“Maybe,” Odo allowed, “but I’m not much of a storyteller.”
He winced at his own words.
Why was it so hard to push himself a little? He couldn’t stay curled up in the same shell of isolation all his life—that was precisely what had driven him to the Link.
“Did you get to see the new historical center in Musilla?” Sisko asked.
Against all odds, Kira perked up slightly.
Odo managed a smile. “Actually, I did.”
“Really?” Dax asked. “Is it true they’re creating an accurate holo-representation of an ancient Bajoran city?”
Odo nodded. “I found it…impressively realistic.” He tilted his head in a shrug. “Though, of course, I can’t judge how accurate it is. I’m no archaeologist.”
“It’s an incredible undertaking,” Dax said. “The original site is miles across.”
“The researchers there are…very determined,” Odo said. He chuckled. “Not to mention excited. The guide I spoke with was quite…bubbly. Not that I blame her.”
Kira snuck a glance at him from across the table. He couldn’t quite parse the expression on her face—somewhere between curiosity and surprise.
Seeming to catch herself, she bit her lip and cut her gaze to the side.
Sisko then asked Dr. Bashir about his guests staying in one of the cargo bays.
Odo was immediately drawn in. “Why weren’t they assigned guest quarters?”
“They are a potential security risk,” T’Sorra stated. “Genetically resequenced. They cannot be allowed standard access to station systems.”
Odo nodded slowly. He could see the need for caution. But as Bashir described how difficult these people were to work with, a distinctly uncomfortable sensation settled in Odo’s matrix.
“All I kept thinking was,” Bashir said, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”
“How do you mean?” Dax asked.
“My parents managed to find a decent doctor to perform the DNA resequencing on me,” Bashir said. “These four weren’t so lucky. They all suffered unintended side effects, and by the time they were five or six, their parents were forced to come forward and admit they’d broken the law so that their children could get treatment.”
He took a steadying sip of his drink.
“Hmm,” Sisko said. “Perhaps they waited too long.”
Bashir nodded. “Yeah. There was nothing the doctors at the Institute could do for them.”
Odo frowned. “Institute?”
Bashir’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “The Daystrom Institute.”
Odo’s frown deepened. “These people grew up in a…laboratory? On Earth?”
He was familiar with Federation attitudes being a bit less accepting in actuality than they were on the surface, but he’d never quite heard of such a blatant injustice—on Earth of all places.
“Well, not quite a laboratory,” Bashir said, squirming a little in his seat. “They were patients, not test subjects. But these cases are so rare…there’s no standard treatment.”
“I can’t imagine it was a very stimulating environment for them,” Kira said.
“Hmph,” Odo agreed. “Not to mention isolating.”
The others turned to him in question.
“Well, I’m not surprised they’re poorly adjusted,” Odo explained. “An upbringing in a science institute doesn’t offer many opportunities for social integration.”
He would know.
A surprised light entered Bashir’s eyes. “You have a point.”
“There is little choice in the matter,” T’Sorra said. “Earth has no facilities designed for them. The Daystrom Institute is equipped to handle unique cases.”
“No one’s equipped to help these people,” Bashir said. “It’s part of why Dr. Loews got permission to separate them from the other residents so that she could work with them.”
“Why did she bring them here?” Dax asked.
“She thought they might respond to meeting someone like them,” Bashir said, a bitter edge in his voice, “who was leading a normal life.”
“What purpose will that serve?” Odo asked. “Except, perhaps, to show them what they can’t have?”
Bashir squinted at him. “I didn’t expect you to empathize so strongly, Constable.”
Odo sighed. “Let’s just say they’re not the only ones who spent their formative years in a science institute.”
The mood around the table was suddenly stifling.
“Dr. Loews also hoped,” Bashir added into the silence, “that one day they might be able to live on their own and be productive.”
O’Brien chuckled weakly. “Well, let’s hope they don’t become too productive. Might make the rest of us look bad.”
Dax managed a light laugh.
“It is not a laughing matter,” Worf said, setting down his drink. “If people like them are allowed to compete freely, then parents would feel pressured to have their children enhanced so they could keep up.”
“Commander Worf is correct,” T’Sorra said. “The Federation cannot risk increased demand for such enhancement.”
Bashir shook his head, leaning forward to refill his glass. “Giving them a chance to contribute doesn’t necessarily mean sanctioning what was done to them. They didn’t ask to have their DNA tampered with. They were only children! And why should they be excluded just because their parents broke the law?”
“That’s true,” Odo said. “And people like them are treated as outsiders—even feared. I can imagine how these four feel.”
“Yes,” T’Sorra said, her gaze oddly sharp. “I’m sure you can.”
Odo’s matrix tightened.
“I agree it’s not quite fair,” Sisko said. “But even so, it seemed like a good way to discourage genetic tampering.”
“Besides,” O’Brien added, “it’s not as if we’re trying to exclude them from anything. We’re just…talking about…you know, limiting what they’re allowed to do.”
“I fail to see the distinction, Chief,” Odo said.
This time, his comment drew a number of uncomfortable looks from the senior staff.
“Constable,” Bashir said, “are you saying you think they should be allowed to do the same things that others are?”
And now Odo found himself in an awkward spot.
“I’m…not sure there is a solution that’s completely fair to them,” he allowed. “I’m also aware…that the Federation has good reasons to fear widespread genetic resequencing.”
He didn’t need to mention the Eugenics Wars—and he didn’t care to. The notion of these outsiders—people born centuries after that devastation—being feared as a harbinger for world war hit a bit too close to home for him.
“Which is why,” T’Sorra said, “such people cannot be allowed to join Starfleet.”
“Exactly,” Worf said.
Bashir turned to them. “Are you saying I shouldn’t be allowed to wear this uniform?”
“Well, you are an exception,” Worf said, as if it were obvious.
“Ah, an exception,” Bashir sighed. “I should be used to that. I’ve been one all my life—first because of the DNA resequencing, and now, because I’ve been allowed to join Starfleet.”
Worf shifted in his seat. “Perhaps I should not have said anything.”
“No,” Bashir said, shaking his head. “No, it’s alright.”
Silence fell over the room.
“Well,” Sisko said, “does anyone care to speculate about what Gul Damar is going to say in his speech?”
Gul Damar.
The Dominion’s new puppet.
Odo’s matrix tightened, at the same moment that Kira’s gaze glued to the floor.
“Nothing we’re going to like, I’ll bet,” O’Brien said.
Dax sighed. “If he’s going to announce another new battle offensive, it’s going to spoil dessert.”
“It should be starting any minute,” Kira muttered.
Then a voice Odo didn’t recognize piped though Bashir’s combadge.
“Can you hear me? H-Hello, calling Dr. Bashir.”
Bashir heaved a weary sigh. “Jack.”
One of his genetically engineered guests.
“Hello. Anybody there? Hm? Hm?”
“Doctor,” T’Sorra said, “your guests should not have access to the comm system.”
“I know,” Bashir muttered, over Jack’s voice. “They must have broken in somehow.” He groaned, tipped back the last of his drink, and pushed to his feet. “I’d love to stay and chat about our impending doom, but…”
Grimacing, he made his exit.
T’Sorra, meanwhile, tapped her combadge. “T’Sorra to Vademm.”
“Vademm here.”
“Run a security sweep of the comm system,” she said. “Check for unauthorized access and update security protocols.”
“Understood, sir.”
T’Sorra exchanged a nod with the captain.
“Well.” Sisko clasped his knees. “Shall we move to the screen?”
“Works for me,” Kira said, standing.
As the others relocated to get a better view of Sisko’s wall monitor, Odo stayed a pace behind, maintaining his distance from Kira so as not to make her uncomfortable. He waited until she was seated before finding a perch on the very edge of the couch, positioning both Dax and O’Brien between them.
Sisko activated the monitor. As the UFP symbol appeared, Odo’s instincts prickled—and he turned to find T’Sorra’s eyes on him.
She was peering at him in the same way he watched potential threats.
“Can I help you, Commander?” he asked.
The others turned his way.
“Not as yet,” T’Sorra replied.
“Commander?” Sisko asked. “Is there a problem?”
“I have briefed you on my concerns, Captain,” T’Sorra said. “I do not believe it prudent to discuss them here.”
Sisko’s brow twitched. “Hmm.”
Odo frowned. She wasn’t out of line—he was still on leave, at least for another few days, and Vulcans were renowned for their adherence to protocol.
But why did it seem like he was her concern?
Suddenly, O’Brien’s combadge chirped. “Bashir to O’Brien.”
The Chief tapped it. “O’Brien here.”
“I need you in the cargo bay immediately. Bring a toolkit.”
O’Brien’s brows shot up, but he stood. “On my way.”
He made his exit, leaving only Dax seated between Odo and Kira.
It was several minutes before the UFP symbol on the wall monitor gave way to the Cardassian emblem—and then to Damar, standing at a podium.
“Fellow citizens,” Damar spoke, “these are great days for Cardassia.”
Were it not for Odo’s fine-tuned instincts, he might have missed T’Sorra’s glance.
“Together with our Dominion allies, we have given our enemies cause to fear us once more. The war with the Federation accomplished our goals. Cardassia is strong again, an empire to be feared…”
Damar’s posturing was familiar, at least. Typical Cardassian bluster, not Dominion subterfuge.
Then his tone shifted slightly. “…we are poised to take another bold step that will ensure our future.”
He paused dramatically.
“Peace.”
Odo squinted.
“It is time to bring an end to this war with the Federation,” he went on. “It is time for us to rebuild…”
On he went, about Cardassian bloodshed and sacrifice, honoring the memory of those lost, preserving gains. His voice was vehement, but there was something about his delivery—something that didn’t seem quite right.
“I challenge the Federation to answer my call for peace,” Damar said.
Then, as Odo watched, his expression fell flat.
“I am ready at any time to meet with its representatives to discuss how we can put an end to hostilities.” He blustered on for a bit about protecting Cardassia before declaring, “This I vow with my life’s blood! For my sons…for all our sons!”
The transmission ended, reverting to the Cardassian emblem.
“Well,” Sisko said into the gathering silence, “what do you think?”
“I don’t believe it for a minute,” Kira said.
“Agreed,” Worf said. “The Dominion currently occupies a position of strength. This must be a diversionary tactic.”
“Odo?” T’Sorra asked. “What do you think?”
Odo peered at her.
T’Sorra merely cocked a brow.
“I…think we just heard a lot of Cardassian bluster,” Odo said. “Damar’s putting a lot of effort into making his call for peace sound Cardassian. But I doubt it was his idea.”
Sisko hummed in thought.
“Then it must be Weyoun’s,” Kira said.
Dax frowned. “But why would the Dominion call for peace?”
“I’m not sure,” Odo said. “But this seems targeted.”
“Targeted?” T’Sorra asked.
“Well, peace is the Federation’s goal, not the Dominion’s,” Odo said. “The Federation stands for peace as a matter of principle. It’s always more eager to negotiate than to fight. That makes it predictable.”
“You think we’re being baited,” Sisko said.
“I do,” Odo said. “And I think that if we take that bait, we’ll be playing straight into the Dominion’s hands.”
Sisko sighed. “Not a comforting thought.”
The room lapsed into silence.
Then Dax said brightly, “How about dessert?”
*
Stardate: 50394.7
Damar paced the cargo bay. “Where are they?”
“They’ll be here,” said Weyoun.
“This is ridiculous,” Damar muttered. “Sneaking into a storage bay for a secret meeting.” He glared at Weyoun. “I’m not some agent of the Obsidian Order. I’m the leader of the Cardassian Empire!”
Weyoun turned. “Don’t let it go to your head! You serve only at the Dominion’s pleasure.”
Damar stiffened.
“Besides,” Weyoun said, “I think it’s exciting.”
Across the bay, a door slid open.
Weyoun sobered quickly. “They’re here.”
He crept around the corner of a stack of crates, a suspicious Damar close on his heels. But it wasn’t a trio of genetically resequenced civilians who entered the cargo bay; it was a Vulcan security officer, her chin lifted, her hands clasped behind her back.
“Your presence here is unauthorized,” T’Sorra asked.
Weyoun’s gaze darted about. “We…seem to have gotten ourselves lost.”
“Then you were not intending to meet someone claiming to offer sensitive information?”
For the briefest of moments, Weyoun’s expression froze.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Damar said.
T’Sorra cocked a brow. “I am to escort you to your accommodations.”
Weyoun’s ingratiating, diplomatic smile was in full force as he followed her.
Stardate: 51404.5 | USS Honshu
“Lower the forcefield.”
The security officer on duty complied. At the sound of the forcefield disengaging, Dukat looked up, and a familiar, false smile slithered across his face.
The Changeling known as Dr. Cox approached, hypospray in hand.
“That time again?” Dukat said.
“Same time every day,” said Dr. Cox, affecting a cheerful smile.
Human bedside manner was so…tiresome. But, ultimately, a small price to pay as Dukat offered his arm without complaint.
The hypospray hissed.
“There we go,” Dr. Cox said. “How are we feeling today?”
“We are feeling fine,” Dukat said, shooting him a sideways glance. “No need to patronize me, Doctor.”
Back and forth they went. Dr. Cox asked questions designed to test Dukat’s cognizance of reality; Dukat answered perfectly, with only the slightest edge of impatience in his voice. He’d mellowed quite nicely. Succumbed to Dr. Cox’s care. But there was still that glint of danger in his eyes—a glint that told Dr. Cox that the Vorta had, indeed, found the right choice of vessel for this experiment.
A glint that could be tapped into at any moment.
It wasn’t medicine that Dr. Cox was administering with that hypospray.
*
Stardate: 51408.2 | Deep Space Nine
When Odo returned to his office to report for duty, Lt. Commander T’Sorra was waiting for him.
She sat behind his desk, occupying his chair.
She looked up as he entered, her expression as mild as any Vulcan. “You’re here to resume your post.”
“That’s right.”
T’Sorra cocked an eyebrow, scanning him from head to toe.
“Is there a problem, Commander?” Odo asked.
She hesitated a beat. Then, “Not to my knowledge.”
Odo peered at her.
T’Sorra stood, the moment seemingly forgotten. “I stand relieved.”
She rounded his desk, and he took her place, settling into that familiar chair.
Then T’Sorra faced him, hands clasped behind her back, chin lifted. “I now report for duty as head of Starfleet’s security attachment.”
Odo squinted, leaned forward. “You’re reporting to me?”
“Captain Sisko’s orders, sir,” T’Sorra said.
Odo nodded slowly. He’d have to thank the captain, later—when Sisko returned from Dukat’s arraignment. “Very good. Carry on.”
“Sir,” T’Sorra acknowledged.
She turned to leave. But she stopped just as she reached the doors.
“Sir,” she said, turning again, “there is something I’d like you to clarify.”
“What’s that?”
T’Sorra looked him dead in the eye. “How does the Link function?”
Odo stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I wish to understand what is shared during a Link,” T’Sorra said. “In the interests of station security.”
Station security?
Did she know?
Had Kira included his defection in her report, after all?
But…then he wouldn’t have been allowed to resume his post, would he have? He’d be facing court-martial.
Odo kept his expression carefully neutral. “What do you know about the Link?”
“Very little,” T’Sorra said. “Hence my concern.”
Odo studied her. But T’Sorra’s expression was almost as unreadable as his own.
“Perhaps if you noted down any pertinent information in a report,” she finally said. “I will give it due diligence.”
“Dismissed, Commander,” Odo replied.
A flash of something crossed T’Sorra’s face, far too brief for Odo to discern. Then, with a perfunctory nod, she left his office.
Odo watched her go, his matrix coiling tight.
The Link…the Link…
He shook himself.
It wasn’t something he wanted to think about. And he was not describing it in a report for Starfleet’s eyes.
It was none of Starfleet’s business.
Then his combadge chirped. “Kira to Odo.”
He tapped it. “Here.”
“I need to see you in Ops.”
*
Stardate: 51408.6
There was no time to enjoy the privilege of standing at Kira’s side, or even for shame to grip him when she struggled to meet his eyes.
The captain was missing.
Possibly dead.
His chances diminished with each passing hour.
“It’s confirmed,” Kira announced to the senior staff as she emerged from the captain’s office. “USS Honshu was destroyed this morning at 1030 hours by an attack wing of Cardassian destroyers.”
She walked up to the situation table; Odo followed, quickly putting as much distance between them as was reasonable.
“Starfleet has picked up the distress beacons from three escape pods and one shuttlecraft,” Kira said. “So, there are survivors.”
Odo indicated a region on the displayed star chart. “The signals are coming from this area. The last reported position of the Honshu was here”—he pointed—“which means there could be survivors in any of these adjacent star systems.”
“That’s a pretty large area,” O’Brien said. “How many ships in the search party?”
“Two,” Odo replied. “The Constellation and the Defiant .”
“Two?” Dax repeated. “It could take days!”
“With all the Dominion activity along the border,” Kira said, “it’s all Starfleet can spare at the moment.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And the Defiant has another appointment.”
She handed Worf a PADD.
“In fifty-two hours,” she said, “you need to be at this rendezvous point outside the Badlands. You are the escort for a Federation troop convoy.”
Worf tapped at the PADD. “It will take twelve hours just to arrive at the coordinates where the Honshu was destroyed.”
“And twelve more to reach the Bandlands, I know,” Kira said. “But this convoy is completely unprotected. They’ve been using the plasma fields in the Badlands to hide their movements. When they emerge, they’re helpless without the Defiant.”
“Can’t they delay the convoy?” Bashir asked. “I mean, if Captain Sisko is still alive, we have to give him every chance—”
“I raised the same objection myself,” Kira said, “and the orders still stand.”
Ops was quiet as her words landed.
“Now,” Kira said, “every minute spent arguing here is one less minute spent searching for the captain.”
“Prepare for immediate departure,” Worf ordered.
At his words, Dax, Bashir, and O’Brien made for the turbolift, Worf close behind.
“Worf,” Kira said.
He stopped.
“There are over thirty thousand Federation troops in that convoy,” Kira said. “You have fifty-two hours, not one second longer. Understood?”
“Understood,” Worf replied.
He joined the others in the turbolift, and it descended out of view.
Kira’s back was to Odo; he couldn’t see her face, but he could see the tense angle of her shoulders, the stiff line of her back. And he could feel every inch that separated them.
He knew what it cost her to stand strong now. To prioritize the burdens of command over her Emissary.
Every cell of his being ached to go to her—to stand at her side, to offer her reassurance, to support her in any way he could.
“Kira—” he started.
Her chin dipped. “Not now, Constable.”
So he retreated to the turbolift.
*
Stardate: 51409.9
The captain’s doors slid open.
It was possible this was a monumentally bad idea. Odo shouldn’t intrude on Kira’s space. He didn’t have to be here.
But he needed to see her.
Kira was sitting in the captain’s chair. She looked up as he entered. “Odo.”
“Major.” He handed her a PADD. “My report on yesterday’s security operations.”
Kira frowned. “You didn’t have to deliver that personally.”
“…No.”
For a long moment, she was quiet. Odo was rooted to the spot.
“Worried about the captain?” she asked.
Odo sighed. “No news yet, I take it?”
Kira shook her head.
Odo sucked in a deep breath that shuddered through his form. Kira’s eyes darted back down to the desk surface; one finger tapped at its edge.
He turned to leave.
“Odo.”
He stopped. She was looking up at him now, a strange hesitance in her eyes—of a sort he would never have expected from Kira Nerys, resistance fighter.
“We never got a chance to talk,” she said. “Did we?”
Odo remained silent, awaiting her cue.
“The Dominion retreats, and the next thing I know, you’re on leave,” Kira said. She looked at him questioningly. “I’ve never known you to take a vacation.”
“It wasn’t by choice,” Odo admitted. “At first.”
“How in the hell do you get forced on vacation?”
“I was…ill, at first,” Odo said, haltingly. “I didn’t know how long it would last, and I couldn’t be effective at my duty.”
“Ill?” Kira repeated. “You?”
“Strange as it sounds.”
“Is…that why you stopped answering your comm?”
Odo sighed. “I was…indisposed, to say the least. I could barely keep my voice steady. I…didn’t want to be seen like that. Or heard.”
“What was wrong?” Kira hesitated. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“It…doesn’t matter.” Odo did not want to think about the Link. “It seemed to resolve itself after a few days, and I tried to return to duty. The captain took inordinate delight in reminding me that I was, quote, ‘off the roster.’”
Kira chuckled. “So…how was it?”
Odo frowned. “How was what?”
“Your vacation!”
Odo peered at her. “You really want to talk about…my vacation?”
Kira shrugged, spread her hands. “Why not?”
Odo hesitated.
“But let’s sit down,” she said, nodding toward the little lounge in the back of the office.
Warily, Odo followed her. She settled onto the couch; he perched on the edge of the chair opposite her, ready to move the second she no longer tolerated his presence.
“So, you told us about the historical center in Musilla,” she said. “What else did you see?”
“Well,” Odo said slowly, “I visited a number of cultural centers…”
“Tell me.”
So, he delved into his time exploring Musilla and then Ilvian, immersing himself in the sights and sounds, the ebb and flow of Bajoran society. As she listened, the most unlikely of smiles teasing her face, his caution eased, and he brought up the nature preserves he’d toured—but not in humanoid form.
“I figured I’d get closer to the animals if I were one of them,” he said. “Get a better view, without scaring them off.”
Kira’s face clouded over.
He didn’t even know what he’d said, but clearly, his luck had run out.
“I’m sorry, Major.” He made to stand. “I’ll—”
“No, Odo—” She reached to stop him, only to abort the movement. “Stay.”
He settled uncomfortably in his seat. “As you wish.”
“I just…wondered.” She kept her eyes glued to the couch cushion. “Why did you go? To Bajor, I mean?”
Odo sighed.
She glanced up. “Talk to me, Odo.”
Briefly, Odo’s eyes fell shut.
“The truth is,” he said quietly, “I don’t think I’d…chosen it, before. I had isolated myself. Devoted myself to my duty. But that’s not enough, Major. Not enough to stay here.”
Her eyes met his. “Why did you stay?”
His breath hitched.
She held his gaze.
Odo looked away. “You know why.”
“No, I don’t!” Kira straightened. “You broke your word! You Linked with her! You chose her! You told me nothing but the Link mattered!”
“…it has nothing to do with me…”
Odo sighed. “I know.”
“Why?” Kira demanded. “After everything we’ve been through—”
“Because she offered me clarity, Major,” Odo said. “She offered me peace.”
The Link…the Link…
“Peace from what?”
The Link…the Link…the Link…the Link…
His matrix churned.
He needed it.
Still.
Time had dulled the pain, and the tremors had stopped—but every cell of his being still lurched at the thought of it, still strained for a connection that wasn’t there.
“Odo!” Kira pressed. “Answer me! Peace from what?”
He shut his eyes. “From this Solid world.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Odo’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “She offered me my people, Kira. Belonging. Contentment. How could I turn away from that?”
Kira’s jaw hung open.
“Kira, you have a luxury that I do not,” he said. “You’re humanoid. Bajor is your home. And it’s on the right side of this war. What if I asked you to turn your back on your people? On your faith itself? What if you had to live in a world where no one was like you? What if you had to fight for acceptance all your life, to pass yourself off as something you’re not? What if accepting what you are meant turning your back on everything you’ve ever cared about?”
Kira’s jaw worked. “Odo…”
“I need the Link, Kira,” Odo said. “Like you need to pray. It’s part of what I am. And day after day, I choose you instead.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and he knew he’d struck too close to home.
“But you didn’t choose me,” she said.
Odo shuddered.
She was right…and he still couldn’t explain it.
Even his need for the Link couldn’t explain the way the Founder had reeled him in, muddied his thoughts, swayed him to her side.
“I should have,” Odo whispered. “I—I don’t know why—”
“You told me that this war had nothing to do with you,” Kira said. “You nearly got Rom executed. You practically handed the Alpha Quadrant to the Dominion!”
“I know.”
“You know?” Kira repeated. “Is that all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” Odo cried. “You think it makes sense to me? You think I haven’t wondered over and over how I could possibly have lost my way?”
Kira’s mouth tightened.
“I’ve gone over it all a million times,” Odo said. “And all I can come up with is that…that my ties here weren’t strong enough. That I was so isolated, so—so alone, that I jumped at the chance for connection. That the second I felt the Link again, it was as if I’d come home, and that is a feeling I have always yearned for—since before I knew what I was.”
Kira’s hands fidgeted in her lap. “That’s why you went to Bajor?”
“Yes. Well…mostly.” Odo looked her dead in the eye. “Major, if there is one thing I know, it’s that I can never let you down again. No other pain could compare—even my longing for my people, even my need for the Link. Because I’ve lost you before, and I—” He cut himself off. “I tried running from that pain, ran straight to the Link—and it didn’t work. I—I can’t tear out my—my feelings for you.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Kira, I know it makes you uncomfortable, but I can’t stop loving you.”
Kira winced, but he couldn’t stop.
“I can’t leave you again,” he said. His breath hitched. “I can’t—it doesn’t matter if you never forgive me, if our friendship is over—I’ll still always be devoted to you. You are the reason I went to Bajor. I had to choose this place as my home. Because I’m not going back to the Great Link, Kira. I never am—no matter how much it hurts.”
“You—” Kira stopped. “You mean that?”
He managed a pained nod.
She was quiet for a moment.
“I don’t think I ever realized what it cost you to stay here,” she whispered. “To turn your back on your own people. The Founders…they’re so alien to me, it’s easy now to see them as the enemy. I never considered…”
Odo glanced up at her, his gaze dark.
…so alien to me…
Did it even occur to her that he was, too?
He would not push his luck by pointing that out.
“I’ve been blind,” Kira whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I, Kira,” Odo said. “For everything.”
Kira’s gaze latched onto his. “You’d really turn your back on them? Choose never to return to the Great Link?”
“Yes.”
“But…they’re your people,” she said. “Even if they are the enemy in this war—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he gritted out. “It hurts, Kira. I won’t deny that. But it doesn’t matter.” A sigh shuddered through his substance. “You matter the most.”
Kira bit her lip. “Odo…”
He forced himself to meet her gaze.
“I…I didn’t know if I wanted to hear it,” she said. “From you, I mean. What your counterpart on Gaia told me.”
Odo’s eyes widened.
“It all seemed so twisted,” Kira murmured. “You betrayed me. Betrayed us all. How could you…love me? I wondered…if you could say that to me—I mean, the other you—did you even know what love was?”
Odo couldn’t have torn his gaze from her if he’d tried. He was rooted to the spot, his substance aquiver.
“I still don’t know if I want to hear it,” she said quietly. “I…I don’t know how this could work. But…it doesn’t seem so twisted anymore.”
Hope spread through Odo’s matrix, bright and warm.
“Can we…” She hesitated, then barreled on. “Can we be friends again?”
“Kira,” Odo said, “believe me when I say that I don’t need anything more than that. I’ve been your friend for five years and enjoyed every minute of it. I’d give anything just to stand at your side.”
A tentative smile tugged at Kira’s face. “Good.”
*
Dominion Headquarters | Cardassia
The Cox Changeling entered the laboratory to the sound of the Vorta Rivun’s chuckle.
Rivun stood at the main console, wearing a viewer headset. An amused smile twitched on his lips as he watched some unseen display.
“What have you to report?” the Changeling asked.
At the sound of his voice, Rivun sobered quickly—almost guiltily.
“Initial experiments are having a somewhat…” He suppressed a snicker. “…unintended effect.”
“Oh?”
“We’re stimulating certain neural pathways in Dukat’s brain,” Rivun said. “He’s…hallucinating.”
Rivun’s lips twitched again.
The Changeling held out his hand for the viewer. “Let me see.”
“As you wish.”
He handed over the viewer, and the Changeling put it on, then activated the feed.
It was linked to a surveillance device planted in Dukat’s brain stem, showing what Dukat himself saw—including all that wasn’t real.
Including a Solid, dressed in a red Bajoran Militia uniform, cackling madly as she mocked him.
The Changeling suppressed a shudder. Solids were so pathetic. So limited. So ignorant to the world. And so dangerous, with their insistence upon their own superiority and their inability to tolerate anything that didn’t look like them. They were a blight upon the galaxy.
The Solid in question appeared right up in Dukat’s face, challenging him. “ ‘You were a soldier and you had to carry out your orders,’ ” she spat. “He doesn’t believe that lame excuse any more than I do!”
“This is growing tiresome!” Dukat growled.
“Oh, tiresome?” she laughed. “How do you think he feels about you? You’re pathetic! Begging him for absolution as if you’re not the most monstrous creature to haunt this universe?”
A sharp voice cut in. “Dukat!”
That was real. Captain Benjamin Sisko—Dukat’s target, and the single most dangerous Solid this side of the galaxy. The one that would stop at nothing to see the Dominion wiped from the face of the universe, the Great Link itself reduced to ashes.
“I thought you wanted to talk to me,” Sisko said, pointing at himself.
But what the Changeling zeroed in on was the cast on his arm. His disheveled uniform, scorched down the left side with plasma burns.
Excellent.
The Changeling removed the viewer. “I’ve seen enough.”
Rivun spread his hands, bowing his head. “Does it please you?”
The Changeling smiled. “Well done, Rivun. Those ‘unintended effects’ of yours are…tolerable.”
Rivun took back the headset. “Thank you, Founder.”
“Continue your work,” the Changeling ordered. “There is still much to do before the Alpha Quadrant is ours.”