DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns their characters, I own mine. This concept is one they wouldn't touch with a barge pole, so no worries there. Please do not steal this story or any ideas from it, at least not without asking the author/s first.
NOTE: This story is based in an alternate universe, where the Occupation only lasted for 30 years, not 60 years. If you are interested in adding to this saga by writing a novella to go with this world, feel free to contact me.
"Full name?"
"Odo."
The clerk looked vaguely annoyed. "It says here your name's Odo Ital."
"Yes, and I've been trying to get that remedied all flight long - in between avoiding various doctors and scientists like the plague..." He folded his arms and glared at the clerk. "Anyway, since you can obviously read, why bother asking me in the first place?"
"Because..." the clerk paused. "You know, you've got a point. We have all this technology to ascertain your identity, and we have to ask fool questions all day and stamp things." She pressed a few buttons, tricorder-scanned him and, because certain things had to be done or else, stamped the papaerwork. "Enjoy your stay on Betazed."
"I hope to." He hoisted his one piece of luggage and began his journey to his new life. Of course, the instant he set foot on proper Betazed soil, he was surrounded by an escort of security goons. "I see you've heard of me," he told them, shaking his head. "Any more of this and I'd start to think people didn't trust me."
"This way to your quarters, sir." Intoned Goon#1.
"Don't I get a little tour, first?"
Goon#1 looked to his fellows. "Um. We aren't cleared for that right now, sir."
Goon#2 supplied a hesitant, "They said you'd want to rest up, first, sir."
"Well, whoever 'They' are, 'They' have their timing wrong. I'll wait in my quarters until I get an interview with 'Them' to sort all this out." Odo paused for effect. Even though he hadn't had much practice talking, as yet, he knew from frequent observation how to name-drop. "And while I'm in there, I'll be composing a nice, long letter to Arbiter Shinbaug about my treatment so far; especially considering that I have been ruled non-dangerous for well over eight months, now."
The Goons exchanged looks. "We're just acting under orders, sir." Said Goon#4.
"That much is understood, of course," Odo smiled at him. "I won't name too many names."
In the end, he was the only student who had a bodyguard. Arguments against the presence of one, namely that his body was too tough for the average villain to bother guarding, were ignored. Odo mentally redubbed his escort as a minion, and tried his level best to ignore them. The Betazoids made surprisingly good security forces, mostly because they could anticipate an enemy's strike before they made one. That little fact made itself clear during the first weeks of his education. He was the number one student in a matter of days, and quickly put on the fast-track when it came to any reading or memorisable material. He scored top points previously thought unnatainable by the rest of his class - a Gorn, an Andorian, a Romulan, a Vulcan and three humans. He was only let down by his desire to tell the truth as he saw it. As near as Odo could figure, this was a serious handicap in an ambassador, but rather a shocking tactic on the negotiation table.
About three days into his studies, someone tried to kill him. It was a social event on the holodeck, simulated mingling and schmoozing while avoiding giving a straight answer to anyone else involved. Odo was doing quite well at it until someone slipped a chemical into his wine. It was supposed to be fatal for every known life-form in the Federation, but it made him - well, let's call it 'the life of the party'. It took two security teams, five doctors, seventeen doses of detox and seven hours for him to come out of it. The Romulan was eventually found trying to get his money back from a shady dealer and had to take the rest of his lessons while in aggression therapy.
Two days after that, the Gorn tried to knife him. It was not thanks to any gap in security, though. The Gorn had taken extreme pains to avoid them altogether and waited, lurking amongst some of Odo's newly-acquired statuary until Odo turned his back. Odo looked down at the knife blade protruding from his chest and sighed. "Shoddy. Really shoddy."
The Gorn was confused. Not many people spoke after being knifed through the chest.
"I mean really... how do you expect people to believe a dak'targ that's made in Ferenginar? Besides, the nearest Klingon is four systems away."
"...gorn?"
Odo pulled the rest of the knife through. "Tch! Held together with philip's-head screws. Not a single rivet in the entire deal." He showed them to his would-be assailant. "Look at that. It'd fall apart the minute you put it through a real ribcage; but since I usually don't bother making one, you're lucky. See? Put any pressure on it and the whole thing'll fall apart."
"Gorn?" The creature peered at his former weapon.
"I could do a better job," Odo formed a genuine dak'targ in his hand, and suddenly the Gorn looked afraid. Namely because the weapon was right next to the Gorn's jugular. "See?"
"Gorn..."
"Now, let's try this. I keep this knife, and you keep out of my way, and nothing more will be said about this little incident - even if we end up studying together. Understood?"
"Gorn."
"Good." Odo grinned, putting both knives away. "Now you need an alibi so that Lieutenant Devries, out there, doesn't start thinking I need more people to trip over... Ah! Just follow my lead." Odo lead the Gorn to the door, and improvised half a conversation. "Well, thank you very much for that interesting gift, my friend. A genuine fake dak'targ... How many Ferengi did you have to talk to before you found it?"
"Gorn."
"Really? You must give me the name of the 'importer' you found. Sounds like an interesting stock to browse through. Well, I guess I'll see you in class, then."
The luckless Gorn was gently pushed through the door, in a state somewhere between extreme confusion and profound gratitude. Odo made sure to watch, through his patch into the security monitors, as the Gorn beat a too-casual retreat.
The next attempt was a surprise to Odo. He was enjoying the sun when his ever-present shadow suddenly shoved him into a flower bed and fired her phaser into the distance. A troop of other Betazoid guards were seen dragging one of the Humans off to the therapy centre.
"Congratulations," these were not the first words Odo expected out of Administrator Phugami's mouth.
"Excuse me?"
"You've not only graduated our ambassadoral class as valedictorian, but you also have yourself a first posting."
Odo radiated confusion. "I - thought I was here about those attempts on my life..."
"You've demonstrated yourself to be patently unkillable, and you never purposely instigated any of these," Phugami paused as he read down a rather extensive list, "incidents... although the fried chicken one sort of stands out."
"The medical department narrowed that down to the eleven herbs and spices, sir. Their unique combination had that - disturbing effect on my physiognomy. Their advice is: if I'm going to eat to be sociable, I'd better do it in small doses."
"Tell me, Mr. Odo; did they ever find out who was responsible for the noodle incident?"
"No. Forensics is inconclusive, and the counter-accusations turned into a round robin event." Phugami chuckled. "Although, in my mind, Cadet Hobbs is the most likely candidate, I can't say as much out loud."
"Understood. Here are your papers and travel orders. You can pack anything you like, from what I hear."
"I doubt if a set of statues is precisely what they had in mind, though."
Odo had almost enjoyed himself. He'd driven at least one entire medical team to screaming hysteria while also managing to annoy the entirety of the security contingent of the Federation Science Vessel Pasteur. Perhaps this would make Starfleet think twice the next time they told him to take the nearest vessel.
His guard, now reduced to an almost tolerable one, seemed very anxious to put him onto the Bajoran station, and was grinning like a maniac and singing the last time Odo saw him. One day he'd have to look up that little ditty, So long, farewell, auf weidersehn, goodbye... He was greeted at the other side of the airlock by a man in a Beige uniform. So this was his next victim...
"I assume you're under orders from your chief to keep an eye on me?"
"No," said the Bajoran, barely moving his head. Even then, Odo saw the earring, and the familiar shape of the clasp.
Oh, no, not another Kira... Odo remembered Nerys talking about him and his current job. "You're the security chief," Odo snorted. "Nice to know I'm such a 'trusted' individual."
"Actually, I was here to offer you a deal, of sorts."
This piqued his interest. "Oh?"
"Yes. I trust you not to commit any crimes, and you don't. You trust me not to keep you under more than the usual surveillance, and I - don't." The man grinned. He must have taught his sister that smile. "It's the same deal I make with most visiting dignitaries. Your quarters are in level five, section seven." He handed over a datapadd map.
Odo thanked him and started on his way. He got five paces before he noticed the absence of following footsteps. Odo turned to look where Chief Kira Reon stood, watching the airlock. "You're not following me," Odo noted.
"Yes," said Kira Reon.
Odo smiled as he continued on his way. I think I'm going to like him.
It was an out and out debarkle. The wormhole was found in Bajoran space contested by the Cardassians because it was currently being held with the aid of one of their old stations, and just about everybody else wanted a slice because one of their ships was also in the area. Odo couldn't help but observe that just about every Federation race was seated around the tables.
Odo longed to investigate the rest of the station, but he was assistant to the Federation ambasador - who was an elderly vulcan with no sense of humor. His job, therefore, was to observe and remember. He'd already surprised the Ambassador with his gifts the previous day; and Vulcans were notoriously hard to surprise. Of course, the arguing was sometimes hard to listen to, owing to the nature of the venue. There was only one place big enough to house the Ambassadors, delegates, their assistants and entourages, and that was Quark's Bar. Even then, it was flooded with people, half of whom were more interested in the gaming tables than the negotiations.
Odo risked a longing glance their way. Judging by the looks of things, the Betazed ambassador was winning. More power to her.
"Mr. Odo, you are not paying attention."
"Andoria just claimed the wormhole on the grounds that their ship was in the system," said Odo, without turning back. "But then, so was everyone else - this is a busy port."
"Dabo!" Cried the Ambassador for Betazed while her entourage conferred about their strategies.
Ambassador T'rok merely raised an eyebrow. "And how soon will the formal venue be ready?"
"Two more walls to go, sir."
A scream interrupted all the bickering and backstabbing.
"It's gone! Someone took my brooch!"
Odo gave T'rok an appologetic shrug. "So much for the negotiations,"
he scurried from the table before the Ambassador could stop him. "What's
gone Madam Ambassador?"
"My latinum hairbrooch."
"Barkeep!" Odo called for the proprieter.
"I'd just made a third straight cross and I leaned over the table to
pick up the dice again and I felt someone brush against me... my God, I've
been wigged..."
The barkeep scurried into the conversation. He was a Ferengi, and appeared
very annoyed that everyone had stopped drinking and gambling.
"What's the problem here?"
"Someone has stolen Ambassador Troi's latinum hairbrooch."
He fixed them with a forced smile. "I'm sorry but as the sign says...
the establishment is not responsible for the loss of any personal items..."
Ambassador Troi interrupted with, "Sign? What sign?"
"The one above the door."
She squinted in that direction. "You'd have to stand on the bar to read
it..."
Odo, too, had to squint. "And it's written in Ferengi text.
Not something just anybody learns."
Again the Ferengi smiled. This time he added a shrug. "Rules of the house.
I'm very sorry. Have a nice day." He turned to leave.
Only to be pulled up short by Troi's vicelike grip on his ear. "You're
dealing with the Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Chalice of Rixx,
Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed..."
"Aah! Not my ear, please..."
"Yes, I know where it hurts the most, you little troll. Now, I want this
room sealed and everyone strip-searched until my brooch..."
"May I be of service?"
Everyone turned. Commanding centre stage was a Bajoran with dark hair and
eyes almost the same colour as space. He journeyed the rest of the way to them
in the sure and certain knowledge that the crowd would part for him.
Odo introduced him. "Madam Ambassador, Security Chief Kira Reon."
"What seems to be the problem?"
"My hairbrooch has been stolen, it's been in my family for thirty-six generations, it's absolutely priceless, and I want it back." This last was angled at Quark, who flinched in her grasp.
"You're certain you wore it today?"
"Of course, I never wear this hair without it."
What the? "And you sense no guilt in the room."
"Naturally - but Betazoids can't read Ferengi!" She added a twist to the luckless barkeep's lobe.
"The Ferengi is innocent - for a change," interrupted the security chief. "I've been keeping an eye on him and his waiters all night."
"Well one of them must have got past you."
"Just wait a moment," Odo ducked past her and seized a Doptarian he'd been watching a minute or two before. "Here's your culprit. I know for a fact that he's been lifting coins from the Dabo tables for the past half hour."
"Really," Reon gave a predatory grin, and proceeded to shake down his latest prisoner.
The Betazoid Ambassador sighed with relief, placing the brooch back in her hair. "How did you know?"
"Doptarians are distant relatives of the Ferengi - they share the same cranial anatomy. It made sense that you couldn't read him either."
She aimed a rather dazzling smile at him. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Ambassador Lwaxana Troi."
"Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Riix, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed."
"You know me?"
"Not exactly, I just do my homework."
"And you are?"
"Odo, a mere Ambassadorial assistant."
"Tell me, Odo, are there any more palindromes like you at home?"
It was as if she'd struck him with a class 3 phaser blast. "I don't have a home. If you'll excuse me, Ambassador." He pushed his way through the milling crowd and seized the bartender by the collar. "What the idea of letting the criminal element into your establishment? You know that the instant someone opens up a crime-free bar, you're out of business."
"The only way to keep those sort of people out is to close the bar entirely," the Ferengi grinned. "Tell you what, I'll give you your first drink free. It's a dreadful old Bajoran custom - but it brings 'em in. What'll you have."
Odo was in no mood to be sociable. "I don't drink."
"A soft drink, then."
"I don't drink."
"Now I see why you're so grumpy."
Odo growled at the bartender and stalked back to the negotiating table, where decorum had collapsed to the point of fisticuffs. T'rok was gently massaging his temple.
"Are you all right, sir?"
T'rok sighed. "It used to be so logical. Everyone laid their cards on the table and it was sorted out in a fair and equitable manner... Where has the decorum gone, Odo?"
"That depends. Do you know where the nearest airlock is from here?"
The Vulcan straightened, a ghost of a smile on his otherwise impassive face. "Hm. Your outright honesty will trip you up one day, Mr. Odo. And on that day, there will be fireworks."
Someone broke a bottle and was using it like a knife.
"Shall we get out of here before they start a riot?"
"A very logical conclusion. It is past time for my meditation."
Odo relaxed with a sigh in his quarters. He'd been rather surprised when he'd requested 'anything interesting that was just lying around'. His rooms were now filled with all sorts of things, from proper statuary to wreckage and anything in-between. It was a veritable education in form and texture, but at the moment, he was interested in scouring the Bajoran databases for information. His own point of origin was roughly where the Bajoran Station now stood, and he was now dredging up the records concerning the vectors of his slowly drifting pod.
>Be-boop.<
He sighed. Probably some delegate or lackey thereof with a vitiolic message of spite. "Enter." He immersed himself in the decryption of a particularly problematic Cardassian record. "I had to come and appologise."
Odo spared a look. It was Ambassador Troi. It took him a moment to realise what she'd been wearing and he had to look again to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. The woman, who had a fully-grown daughter, was wearing a vamp dress. Only a few strategically placed curlicues kept her from the Bajoran Indecency charges. He did his level best to ignore this. According to all reports Ambassador Troi was ever the flamboyant type.
"Ambassador."
"I'd rather you called me Lwaxana," she purred.
"Lwaxana."
She smiled a now-isn't-that-better smile and moved closer. "I remembered what you said about doing homework and I just to read your file."
Uh oh. This is where I find out she's a closet scientist and I have to avoid technobabble and be sociable. Aloud, he only said, "Oh?"
"You poor lonely man. Thrust into the hands of meciless Cardassian scientists, and then spending years trapped with no-one for company. I'd have just died..."
"I prefer solitude."
"Of course you would, after the way you were treated. I gues I also came here to tell you that - we're not all bad."
He moved away from her, placing his desk between them. "I know, I have met some humanoids who were - very sociable."
"And your heroism today proved that."
"What?" Again, he manouvred the desk between them.
"Apprehending that brigand with your bare hands. It struck me as being remarkably brave."
"Don't mention it. Please." And go away. You're frightening me.
"Odo..."
"What?"
"I just love the sound of your name," somehow, she managed to corner him against a window ledge. "It's very lyrical."
Her skirt was touching his legs. In any other situation, he may have been curious about the texture of the fabric. This woman was unnerving him, and he didn't usually get unnerved. "Lyrical?"
"Odo..." She demonstrated, leaning him into the recess of the window. "It rolls off the tongue." He was at a loss for words. "I'm told you're a shapeshifter."
Where in the name of any handy deity was this going? "That's - correct."
"I've never been with a shapeshifter."
"...'been with'?" She's a man-eater. She has to be. How the hell do I explain that I'm probably inedible?
"I've heard you're the only one of your kind."
"So far." He had no idea of what was safe gound and what wasn't. Someone get me out of this!
"All the men I've known... have needed to be shaped and molded and manipulated. Finally, I've met a man who knows how to do it himself." She manouvred in for a kiss.
>be-boop< It was his comm badge alerting him to a call. Thank you! Odo answered it with a hurried, "I'm on my way," and dashed out of his rooms without a backward glance.
>Uh... This is Security Chief Kira. How did you know I wanted to see you in my office?<
Odo changed his path. "Let's just say I have to avoid someone and leave it at that, shall we?"
There was an audible snicker. >Understood. One of the delegates?<
Odo couldn't speak. Someone had placed a cloth soaked in a sedative chemical over his face. He emitted a strangled croak and, while his assailant was still subduing him, had the presence of mind to internalise his comm badge.
Whoever they were, they'd obviously been going through the same records Odo had kept tripping over. Glin Vidubb had been very thorough and intensive about recording reactions to various chemicals. This one had the effect of paralysis and torpor.
Odo spent the next few minutes in a haze. He kept hearing Kira Reon's voice, and knew he couldn't respond. Neither would his body move in response to his mind. He kept trying to move to see his assailant, only to find the abductor had changed position by the time Odo got his body to obey him.
He'd read, somewhere, about an ancient ailment called 'alien hand syndrome', where a humanoid's sinister hand would start acting on the appelation of its own accord. Odo, when under this particular chemical, felt he had alien body syndrome. His flesh, bound in one shape, either refused to obey his thoughts, or obeyed them with a supreme and erratic time-lag. When not under his laughable control, his body had a mind of its own, and his hands kept trying to seize random passing objects. When it succeeded, though, he had a grip like a grav-vice.
Cardassian curses filled the air beyond Odo's field of vision. Odo eventually found that his right hand had gripped part of an airlock and now refused to let go.
At last, Odo caught a glimpse of his attacker. Cardassian hands tugged at the offending limb, apparently unaware that Odo's matter was more resilient than flesh and bone.
The Cardassian, typical of all those Odo had encountered before, started hitting him. Odo felt no pain, and it wouldn't matter if he were sedated or not, since it took a lot more than a fist to harm his skin. His body, though, drunkenly reeled under the impact and, still tethered by his right hand, eventually fell over on the border between the Cardassian ship's airlock and Bajoran 'soil'.
That was when the security team showed up.
"Freeze! Station Security!"
"I hereby claim my rights as a Cardassian Citizen on Cardassian Soil. The creature here with me is property of the Cardassian Empire and rightfully belongs to the Cardassian Science Institute."
Gods, no. Odo thought. All he could manage aloud was, "Wuffl..."
Kira Reon took one look at the resultant tableu and said, "Doesn't look like he was coming quietly."
The Cardassian snorted. "The creature has little or no knowledge of the advantages it could give the Cardassian Empire."
"...flkthcrdsn 'mpr..." managed Odo.
"Odo is a free Federation Citizen under law."
"The Cardassian claim on the creature predates the Federation ruling and predates Cardassian recognition of Federation law. His body lies on Cardassian soil, by law, you cannot touch him."
"Half of his body lies on Cardassian soil," corrected Reon. "The other half is in Bajoran territory."
Odo belatedly realised that his body would, after a fashion, obey, but only if he gave orders and relaxed while he waited for them to be filled out. Right leg forward.
"I lay claim to this creature under the Cardassian salvage laws of Stardate 46385 it has been, and always was, a ward of the Cardassian Empire."
Left leg forward.
"The Cardassian Empire ceased to exist over thirty years ago, when, incidentally, your scientists abandoned Odo, here, in favour of saving their own skins. If you want to lay claim, then the Bajoran Government claims Odo by right of conquest. He's spoils of our war."
Support the body.
"The Cardassian Empire refuses to acknowledge the independance of Bajor."
Left arm forward.
"That's funny. The Free Bajoran Government refuses to acknowledge the Cardassian Empire."
Lurch away from Cardassian.
"Cardassia will rise again, scum! And when it does, people like you will be the first up against the wall - or out the airlock."
Left foot push away.
"Speaking of coming out of airlocks," Reon noted. "Your 'Cardassian ward' just solved our problem for us. He's now on one hundred percent Bajoran soil."
"What?"
Right hand let go.
"And if you ever set foot on Bajoran soil, you're under arrest for kidnapping, intent to harm a free sentient being, and anything else I can dig up."
Surrender. Odo let his body fall under control of the drug and lapse into lassitude.
"...your opinion that he will recover before the next meeting of the delegates?"
Good old T'rok. Always veiling concerns for health under concerns for the ability to work.
"Near as I can tell from all the records, Ambassador, he'll be hung over, but he'll be able to work."
'Hung over' did begin to describe the sensations Odo felt after coming off just about any drug that worked on him. His entire body pained him. All he wanted to do was rest, yet his form was still held by whatever magnetism the chemical posessed and would not shapeshift.
"Summon..." Odo managed.
"It appears he is awake. Your new formula is working."
"Summon giv me detox?"
The station doctor floated into view. "It's the new version of silicate-lifeform detox," she brandished the hypo. "Ever since you came along, Starfleet's been working on a version that worked faster than the old stuff."
Odo snorted. "Barely worked at all."
"Exactly. You should be able to move on your own, soon."
"As you humanoids are prone to saying... My hair hurts."
"You have hair?"
"No, but it's a close analogy."
"Another one would be 'pores'," T'rok supplied.
Odo sat up. His sense of gravity was temporarily lost to him and he was forced to cling to the biobed. "I think I'd better recover in my quarters."
"It is only logical that I help you get there," T'rok offered an arm.
Odo slowly shook his head. "No. Thanks. 'D rather be transported. Quicker." He could feel his hold on his form slipping.
Nodding, the doctor pressed a few buttons and the world dissolved into sparks, then re-formed as his quarters, which were, thankfully, empty. He'd never been happier to crawl into his pail.
Alone in his office, Kira Reon ground his teeth. So much for the out and out interview. Now he was on an apparent waiting list to see Odo on a more private basis. He tried calling his sister again.
"Nerys!" Reon grinned as his sister glared at him sleepily. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"
"Only my sleep." Nerys yawned, her head propped in one hand. "Re, do you have any idea what time it is here?"
"About one am." He leant forward, suddenly serious. "Nerys, I need to ask you about this shapeshifter, Odo. He's here as am assistant diplomat, but he's not like any other diplomat I've ever met."
Nerys snorted and stifled another yawn. "He wouldn't be. He's methodical, annoying, precise, and the nosiest person I've ever met! He should make a perfect diplomat." Her gaze sharpened. "Watch him close, Re, he's a tricky one. When we were hiding him, he imitated everything we had. And I mean everything." She nodded tiredly. "'Night Re."
The man stared at the screen for a full minute. "Oh prophets, he didn't..... did he?"
It had been a very long day. The first sight that greeted him in the morning was a slightly irate security chief who wanted to talk to him 'at the earliest convenience'. Unfortunately, Odo's next 'convenience' was looking to be shortly after his next rest period.
The argument had been going on for almost fourteen hours, most of it was circular, and Odo was getting thoroughly sick of it. The move to new negotiation tables had definately not improved things.
"Let's just be honest for a moment, shall we? Show of hands. How many of you actually believe that your people have a legitimate claim on the wormhole?"
Thirty hands went up.
"And how many are just here to make trouble?"
Fifty hands went up.
"Well, that's enough for me. Good day," He stood and left the room, only to be followed by Ambassador Troi.
"There you are," she sang.
And he'd been hoping to make it all the way to the turbolift without encountering her.
"Have you ever been on the fourth moon of Andevian 2 at dawn?"
"Can't say I have." He pressed the turbolift call button again. Didn't these things have anxiety detectors or something?
"That's wonderful! I have just the holoprogram, we can have a little picnic together in one of the holosuites."
"Some other time, Ambassador,"
"Ah-ah-ah," She corrected with a waving finger. "Lwaxana."
"I really have pressing business elsewhere." He ducked into the turbolift and quickly reached for the door controls. She was too quick, sliding in beside him at an amazing turn of speed. "Madam Ambassador..." Odo punched in the co-ordinates he wanted.
"Lwaxana; please."
"I'm - not - like - you. This is not a real mouth, it is only an approximation of one. I don't have an esophagus or a stomach or a digestive system. Every sixteen hours, I - turn - into - a - liquid."
She thought about this for a moment. "I can swim."
Odo rolled his eyes, and then the turbolift went insane. There was a moment of instability that shook them like dice in a cup, then the terror of freefall.
Lwaxana screamed to her Gods.
Odo, however, had no-one to believe in but himself, and immediately went to work. The controls no longer functioned, so he used the only other alternative available. He braced his hands against the turbolift walls and, shapeshifting, bent the entire car out of shape enough to jam it in its shaft.
Unfortunately, they were also stuck between floors.
"What happened?" Lwaxana asked.
"That's what I'd like to know."
"/Krazdain/ it!" One of the Cardassian entourage cursed and hit the little control pad.
"What happened?" Demanded one of his cronies.
"The flakkin' thing's not working. I told you the Bajorans would have put in safety filters."
"Gentlemen?" Said a Bajoran behind them.
Dokos and Kanag turned to face the security chief. He was backed up by an escort fo five armed Bajorans.
"If you would care to come with me?" Kira Reon gestured the way with a phaser. "I have new quarters for you."
They put their hands up and went quietly.
"Odo to maintenance..." He waited. Apparently, no-one was home. "Odo to security..."
>Kira here. What is it this time?<
"Ambassador Troi and I are stuck in a Turbolift... what's going on?"
>Seems we had a little sabotage. I'm busy processing the saboteurs, you'll have to call Ops. Thay'll help you.<
There was an audible snigger. Odo recognised a Cardassian voice when he heard it. "Thank you for your help. Odo to Ops..."
>Ops here. What's the problem?<
"Ambassador Troi and I are stuck in a Turbolift. I was told you could help."
>Hang on, we'll beam you out.<
"Ready."
>Energising.<
Nothing happened. "Well?"
>Looks like we're experiencing a transporter malfunction. Be patient. We'll get you out as soon as we can.<
Odo sighed, and faced his fate.
"Alone at last," Lwaxana smiled.
I'm doomed...
>Ops to Odo.<
"Here." He foisted off Lwaxana's ahns, which seemed to be multiplying rapidly.
>I'm sorry, but you'll have to stay put for a while...<
"Define 'a while'."
>I wish I knew.<
Lovely. Just lovely.
>By the way, Cardassian turbolifts run an exposed multi-phase alternating current through their positioning mechanisms, so don't try to shape-shift your way out...<
"I wouldn't think of it."
"Besides it wouldn't be polite," added Lwaxana.
>I didn't hear that...<
"It wouldn't be polite," Odo repeated, desperately trying to shoo at errant fingers.
>Understood. Ops out.<
Wonderful. Left to stand and stare at the walls. He was trapped, and this time it was a lot worse than Glin Vidubb.
"Do you suppose that we're actually in any danger?" Lwaxana asked.
"Not if we remain calm."
"Then we might as well enjoy ourselves and use the opportunity to get to know one another."
"I'd really prefer to pass the time... quietly."
"Quietly."
"Quietly."
"Of course."
"Thank you."
There was one blessed moment of peace in which to concentrate on time passing. He only had a few hours left before the question of his rescue was moot. Maybe this was time to test that 'patently unkillable' remark.
"The quiet man," said Lwaxana admiringly.
It came out as almost a growl, "Hmmm."
"I've always been attracted to quiet men. Odd isn't it? But then, there may be more truth than we realize to the old axiom that opposites..." She caught his look. "Quietly."
They had so many expressions. Time flies, time's winged chariot, time and tide...
"Odo..."
He sighed. This woman couldn't keep quiet for five seconds... "Yes."
"I don't think I can."
"Can what?"
She was suddenly frail, and obviously afraid. "You don't have to say a word as long as we're here... but I do think I need... to talk..."
Odo sighed and sat beside her. "I understand. There's nothing to be afraid of." I hope.
"Of course not. It could be much worse."
"Really."
"My daughter and I were once trapped on a Ferengi cargo ship and it was dreadful... well, all right, it wasn't actually dreadful, it was mildly lamentable. And it was all because that loathsome Daimon... well, actually he wasn't altogether loathsome, he was slightly repulsive, but he did have a certain charm, in an insufferable sort of way. And of course he was totally at the mercy of his uncontrollable passion for me. So he couldn't have been all bad, could he? Well, it wasn't all passion, there was some negligible commercial interest involved, but the passion was perfectly real, and quite touching, in a way. He was so helpless. At first it was totally a question of expediency when I made love with him..."
Odo had, in the interim, found his gaze drawn to the opposite corner of the turbolift. The lowest point in the car was, co-incidentally, right next to the exposed circuit.
"... what are you looking at?"
Odo realised she'd noticed. "Hmm? Oh... nothing... I was just wondering how many volts are in that exposed circuit... go on..."
She was quite happy to chatter. It took her mind off things. "Well, quite frankly, by the time one thing had led to another, I wasn't at all sure that I would ever..."
"Well the flakking communicators are down, too! Now do something about it!"
Several people were arguing all at once, and most of those were already down to curses in several languages. In the middle of it all, Ambassador T'rok was an island of serenity. Even when he was talking about the health of his assistant.
"It has been well over an hour since the incident, Colonel. I'm concerned for my assistant's health. He needs to rest in his native form."
"Do you have any idea of his regenerative cycle?"
"No. He is intensely private about that, but I gathered from his behaviour that he was - close; to the end of his day."
Two Bajorans looked at each other. "If he doesn't get to his quarters in time..."
"Well, enough about me."
He hadn't been paying attention. The demands of his nature were pressing on him, giving his skin a waxy sheen. "Hmmm?"
"Enough about me. Tell me about yourself."
"I'm really a private man."
"Of course you are. Is that hair real?"
It must have been bothering her for a while. Odo sighed and resigned himself to talking. "It is real... in that it is me. It is not real hair."
"How do you do it?" He must have given another look, because she added, "Your hair."
"It took a great deal of practice."
Now it was her turn to give him one. "You studied hairstyles?"
This, Odo realised, is going to go on forever. Might as well get it over with... He sighed. "If you must know, I imitated the hairstyle of the Bajoran man who re-discovered me..."
"Re-discovered?"
"He was a scientist, going through everything the Cardassians left behind at the Research Centre. He dug me up, and here I am..."
"You mean that's where you grew up... in a laboratory?"
Another sigh. "I didn't "grow up" as you think of it. It was merely a - transition; from what I used to be to what I learned to become..."
"Sounds very lonely to me."
It was another class three phaser blast. What was it about this woman that made her find all his weak points? "I was always very self- sufficient."
"I'm sure you had to be."
He turned back to examine her face. Genuine sympathy from an Ambassador? He didn't think that was possible.
"To survive. Being so different from everyone else."
He abruptly turned away, trying his commbadge again. "Odo to Ops... Odo to Ops..." Nothing. "Com lines are still down... what's taking so long?..."
Finally, she noticed he was in difficulty. "Are you all right? You look warm."
Rule One: Deny everything. "It's nothing. I'm fine." Another moment of silence. He could hear the air recyclers going.
"I can't imagine how it must have been."
Most people don't try to bother.
"If it bothers you to talk about it..."
You're not getting me with that one, dearie. "Not at all. What was it like? I guess you could say I was - the life of the party." He emitted a little chuckle that had nothing to do with mirth.
"I'm not sure I understand."
"My way of trying to fit in. I found I could be entertaining. Odo, be a chair. I'm a chair. Odo, be a razorcat. I'm a razorcat. Life of the party." Even a second glancing down memory lane was too long. "I hate parties."
"Maybe you've been going to the wrong ones."
What?
"Come to one of mine, Odo. I'll see to it that all the guests are there to entertain you."
She really would. Lwaxana Troi was genuine. That moment was all that was needed for his pain to voice itself. His head dropped, trying to conceal the groan already halfway out of his mouth.
"You're not well."
"No, I'm fine. It's just - I told you how I turn into a liquid every sixteen hours? Well, I'm in hour sixteen..."
She gave him the first genuine hug of his life. Minutes from death, and someone was affirming his life.
Why the hell should the irony stop now?
"Flakk it!"
"They just had to get themselves stuck in the sealed section of the core, didn't they?"
"It's hard enough with just the environment suits, but wielding oxy- cutters? We'll be lucky to get to them in three hours"
"Just keep working," intoned Kira Reon. He wasn't going to let Odo die just to get out of their little chat.
Odo had turned his back to the Ambassador. He didn't want her to see his natural state, or what happened as a result of keeping his shape too long. His final moments, he knew, were going to be messy, and doubtless shocking for the Ambassador. That is, if he somehow didn't manage to be patently unkillable after all.
Time for one last try. "Odo to Ops." Nothing. No-one had managed to fix anything yet. He'd only 'lived' a few years and now he was going to die. "Odo out."
"Odo... turn around."
He didn't. How could he explain? Best to use plain words. "I can't. It's beginning."
"It's all right," she assured.
"You don't understand. No one has ever seen me like this."
"Not even the scientist who "rediscovered" you?"
"That was different. It was only a matter of research to him."
"You don't have to be ashamed with me."
Odo told his first real lie. "I am not ashamed. It's a private matter, that's all."
"How can I make it easier for you?"
"You can't. I'm fine." He was dripping, parts off his matter liquefying and oozing slowly down his form. He looked like hell, and he was way past his usual limits. Something came into his field of vision. "What's that?"
"My hair." Her hair was now attached to her arm. He followed her limb back up to her face, and discovered it was now framed with pinned-back brown curls. "Nobody's ever seen me like this."
"Why? It looks fine." It's natural. The way you were made to be. Can't you understand it?
"It looks... ordinary. I've never cared to be ordinary." She smiled at him. Not one of her power force smiles, but a more casual, warm and welcoming one. "You see, Odo, even us non-shape-shifters need to change who we are once in a while."
In that moment, everything he thought he knew about Lwaxana Troi changed. She was now someone to admire. "You are not at all what I expected."
"No one's ever paid me a greater compliment."
It was painful. Had to rest. To sleep... forever. "I - cannot hold my - shape any longer." He was about to frame the words 'get back' when Lwaxana did something truly surprising.
She made an envelope-pouch out of her skirt, and whispered, "Let go. I'll take care of you."
There was never such a more greatful rest, nor a more comfortable resting spot.
They were through the last door, shining beams on a blinking Lwaxana and a scowling Odo. The Shapeshifter helped up the Ambassador first and, using her for cover, managed to evade Kira Reon for a third time. Any more of this and I'll think he doesn't like me.
"...Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Riix, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, and you, my good man, are in a great deal of trouble. Who sabotaged us, and what's being done about it. We were in there for four hours while your alleged teams were sitting around doing nothing, from what I could see."
Here it was. CES-1287-3498. Found at co-ordinates --
>Be-boop<
Was he never going to get his questions answered? "Enter."
It was Lwaxana. "I gave them all so much to worry about, that they won't even look at you for a while."
"Thank you," he smiled. "That wasn't exactly the 'picnic' you had in mind, was it?"
She dismissed that with a second smile. "When it comes to picnics, the only thing that really matters is the company."
"Your discretion and sensitivity are appreciated."
"Oh, the next time, my dear Odo, I'll give you a lot more to appreciate. I think the moons of --"
>Be-boop<
Odo rolled his eyes. "This has been happening to me all day. Enter."
It was Kira Reon, advancing like the wrath of God. "Just what in the name of the Prophets did you do to my little sister?"
"Are you carrying on with someone's baby sister?"
"Baby is hardly the word," Odo defended. "She's twenty-six if she's a day."
"Your baby sister is twenty-six?"
"I never said she was my baby sister. I'm still her big brother, no matter what; and he - I just found out - has been shapeshifting into everything around her quarters when he was hiding there."
"You didn't!"
"No, I did not."
"Ha! Deny it all you like, I know Nerys wouldn't lie."
"At one o'clock in the morning?"
"How did you know it--"
>Be-boop<
"What now? Enter!"
All three turned to face a rather ordinary looking Bajoran male in his late sixties. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Yes."
"No."
Odo was strangely silent.
"Odo? Who is this man?"
He reverted to manners. Polite formalities meant to keep daggers in their sheaths. "Ambassador Lwaxana Troi, Security Chief Kira Reon; this is Doctor Mora Pol. My ex-torturer."
"There's no need to be that antisocial, Odo. Besides, judging from the records, Glin Vidubb was more of a torturer than I ever was."
"Sorry. One of my ex-torturers. Your doubtlessly here to appeal to my better nature and get me back into your lab. Well here's a news buletin for you, Pol. I haven't got a better nature."
"Especially from what I hear," Reon jabbed, just the same instant as Lwaxana added;
"Odo, you shouldn't belittle yourself like that."
Mora took it all in. "What sort of a mess have you gotten yourself into?"
"This isn't a mess, it's my gym."
"I meant the political situation. Offending the station Security Chief and the Betazoid Ambassador?"
"For your information he saved my life. It's only recently that I heard about his actions back on Earth."
"For the last time, I didn't --"
"What 'actions'?" Demanded Mora.
"When he was hiding in my little sister's quarters on Earth - he shapeshifted into everything there."
"Everything?"
"No!"
"You see? Odo only knows what he's learned. He lacks the mental equipment to deal with females. Your sister was perfectly safe."
To Odo's infinite surprise, both his accusers leaped to his rescue. "Well, he has the mental abilities to save her from a landslide! And to rescue the ambassador," noted Reon.
Lwaxana added, "Of course he does, he's a sweet man who's been misunderstood that's all." She patted Reon's arm. "I'm sure he was a perfect gentleman while staying with your sister." She rounded on Mora with surprising speed and viciousness. "And as for you, I'll have you know that as a Federation ambassador, I have complete faith in Odo and his abilities. He has shown himself to be kind and curteous at all times with me. How dare you suggest otherwise!"
Mora was backing slowly into a corner. "Bu-- ah. Er."
"Anyone who risks his neck to save anyone else not only has the mental faculties, but also has the restraint not to use them." He turned and faced Odo. "My appologies for ever doubting your integrity."
Odo merely bowed at him as he left.
"You should be ashamed of yourself; besmirching the honour of a perfectly decent man. I'll leave you to appologise to Odo, and I'd better hear that you did."
Odo could have covered her with kisses at that point. She'd just handed Mora to him on a platter.
Odo tsked slowly. "Tch, tch, tch... Offending both the Betazoid Ambassador and the Chief of Station Security... How did you get yourself into this mess, Mora?"
"Bu-- ah. Er..."
"I thought you said you didn't drink," Lwaxana eyed the glass in Odo's hand.
"I don't. I merely store what my body can't use and - er; eject it, later. My body doesn't process food the same way yours does, Ambassador." After a minute pause he added, "And definately not as thoroughly."
"Oh dear. I hope it's at least as much fun."
"It depends on what's in the drink."
"And Odo?"
"Yes, Ambassador?"
"We're not working any more. We've all reached an agreement and we're now oficially on holiday."
"Sorry, Lwaxana. Old habits die hard, I guess." He shrugged, sipping at his drink. "Formality sort of - suits me."
"Instead of avoiding people at parties, you should watch a few of them. Take those two over there. Any bets as to whether they'll start punching, or kissing?"
Odo shook his head. "I make it a point never to bet with a Betazoid over matters of emotion. I'd lose all my money, and at the moment, that isn't much."
"Odo!" Called T'rok.
"There's my ride. Goodbye, Lwaxana."
"I much prefer au revoir. It's not so final."
"Au revoir, then."
"And do try to have fun, my dear Odo."
"Oh, I shall."
They travelled in a roughly parallel line until Lwaxana's was interrupted by the Dabo table.
T'rok greeted him with, "Did you elect to keep anything to remind you of your stay here?"
"Only my memories, Ambassador. I prefer to travel light, after all." He lingered at the turbolift door, taking one last look at the bar where it all started, and as he turned to leave, he heard a very familiar voice.
It cried, "Dabo!"
THE END