ALL THE PROPHETS WILL BESTOW
by Judith Macquinn (OdoGoddess@aol.com)
& Cam Burnell (CameronB@juno.com)

        ----------------------------------
Note: this was originally written over two years ago, 
and published over a year ago.  However, that was 
without benefit of the use of any good references such as
Tracy Hemenover's wonderful on-line DS9 Encyclopedia &
Lexicon: http://members.aol.com/DS9fanfic/DS9EncLexicon.html
This version is modified from the print version to correct
spellings...those we could catch anyway!  So if you find
errors, blame _us_, not Tracy!  Moreover, this was converted
to text so some text-modifiers may be absent or present
as symbols for which apologies are rendered.  It was
cleaned up as much as possible, but neither of us has much
extra time to be dithering with the trivial!

This is a sequel to "The Terms Of Our Agreement", which
can be found on the DS9 section of the ASCA archive at:
http://super.zippo.com/~trekfic/home.htm

------------------
DISCLAIMER:  This non-profit material was produced out
of love for Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and is not intended
to infringe upon the Star Trek copyrights of Viacom,
Paramount Pictures Corporation, nor those of any other
legal holders of Star Trek copyrights, in this or any other
universe...

        ----------------------------------
All The Prophets Will Bestow
by Judith Macquinn (OdoGoddess@aol.com)
& Cam Burnell (CameronB@juno.com)


The events in this story take place in the weeks before
DS9's third-season opener, "The Search"...


Jake Sisko fidgeted in his seat.  The Bajoran Death Chant
was just over two hours long and only ten minutes of it had
passed. He was quite certain he would not be able to sit
through the entire ceremony, if only because he already had
the overpowering desire to use the lavatory facilities. The
nearest facilities to Deep Space Nine's Bajoran temple were
at Quark's...and Nog had wanted to see him about
something.

"Dad?" he whispered to Benjamin Sisko who sat at ramrod
attention beside him. The elder Sisko levelled a dead-pan
look at this unseemly interruption, despite the fact no one
else in the temple had noticed his inquiry.  Jake smiled
nervously, shrugged apologetically.

"I really have to use the head," he murmured.

Captain Sisko considered this and sighed. He nodded at his
son, although the look he gave him clearly conveyed his
disappointment at Jake's adolescent impatience. Jake slipped
out of the temple with a minimum of disturbance, cautiously
skirting the small crowd of station personnel, both Starfleet
and Bajoran.

Once outside, he released a deep sigh of relief.  He hated
funerals.  The only funeral he had wanted to attend, but
been unable to was his own mother's.  He had watched the
system-wide remembrance ceremony for Wolf 3-5-9
alongside his father from a biobed in Starbase Central's
medical infirmary. This current ceremony was not quite so
momentous, but no less heartfelt because of it.

The Bajorans had lost three thousand of their citizens on
their first established colony in the Gamma Quadrant.  A
newly discovered enemy, the Jem'Haddar, had attacked and
destroyed the colony on New Bajor, because they
considered the placement of the colony as encroachment to
Dominion territory.  The Dominion was an as-yet
undetermined alliance of planets in the Gamma Quadrant on
the other side of the wormhole.

Starfleet had met some of them, the Vorta and the
Karemma, but they were no threat.  The Jem'Haddar were,
and they were lethal, acting as the watch-dogs of the
Dominion.  Jake did not understand all the political
ramifications of the Jem'Haddar destroying the colony on
New Bajor, but he did understand the Bajorans need to
honor their dead by performing the death chant.  He was
stricken with a momentary pang of guilt for not staying, but
then Jake was sixteen.  His thoughts revolved mostly
around women and games.

Currently his thoughts revolved around one woman in
particular, Marta, and impressing her with his dom-jot
playing skills. She hadn't seen him play yet.  He hoped to
make her his official 'girl' around the station. The fact that
Marta was a twenty-year old woman to his mere sixteen-
years, not to mention the fact that she was one of Quark's
most notorious dabo girls to boot, did not trouble his young
mind.

With his increasingly urgent need for lavatory facilities in
mind, plus the added bonus of perhaps seeing Marta while
he was there, Jake Sisko made his way to Quark's Bar.


          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)


Jake was not the only station occupant who did not attend
the Bajoran remembrance ceremony. Chief Constable Odo
was busy completing the criminal activity report. As he did
this, he would occasionally glance at the security monitors
in his office, then return to his rapid data-entry on his
PADD.

He knew exactly how long the ceremony would last, having
been "raised" on Bajor by a Bajoran man. While Mora Pol
had not been a highly religious man, Odo had still been
made fully conversant with Bajoran customs. He also knew
how long it would take him to finish the activity report
thirty-five minutes  which would leave him almost an hour
in which to obtain a thisk'a gift for the station's Bajoran
Liaison Officer and his friend, Major Kira Nerys.

In contrast to Mora Pol, the Major was a highly religious
person. A thisk'a gift would convey great personal meaning
to her coming from a family member, even more if it came
from a friend. Kira had no family, thanks to the Cardassians,
but Odo knew she thought of him as a friend.

The constable well understood presenting a thisk'a gift was
now an exceedingly rare, almost abandoned custom among
the Bajorans, as many other such practices had been in the
advent of the Cardassian Occupation. In fact, Professor
Mora had informed him that he'd never heard of one being
given in recent times, although he knew of them from his
own family. They had once been considered precious
mementos, particularly among more progressive religious
Bajorans, like those whose families were artisans.

Kira's family, Odo knew, had once been just such artisans.
Her mother had been an icon painter and her father, before
his recruitment into the Bajoran underground, had been a
sculptor. She had spoken to him of them, had told him once
with a touching regret about their dismay at her lack of
artistic talent as a child and attempts to train her in the
rudiments of their honored vocation. She had not seemed
able to learn them, but tried to honor her family with her
devout observance to the religion that their work had been
devoted to. It was for this reason the constable knew Kira
would not only understand, but recognize his intent in
presenting her a thisk'a gift.

A traumatic event of great spiritual significance had
occurred; the destruction of the first Bajoran colony in the
Gamma Quadrant. The Vedek Assembly were touting the
event as an omen of great import. When such an event
happened it was said that the Prophets had touched the lives
of those who survived, honored them by gracing them with
continued life, the ability to reflect on the message they'd
given, to use the gift of life to honor them. The thisk'a gift
was a personal memento given as a symbol of closure,
representing the time of healing and an abiding
remembrance of veneration by the Prophets. Coming from
family, it was a simple recommittment to their shared faith.
Another Bajoran, so long as they were a close friend, could
also tender a thisk'a gift, indicating a deeply felt sense of
kinship.

Odo wanted Kira to know he understood Bajoran customs,
despite the fact that he was not humanoid, but a
shapeshifter. He was, however, a Bajoran citizen, having
been counted in their census for thirty-four years. This
technically provided him the right to present her with a
thisk'a gift. He did not stop now to consider why it was so
important to him that the Major think well of him.

The constable was a logical, reasoning person; many years
of close association had led to a strong working relationship
and a meaningful friendship. It was also true he valued
Kira's friendship and he felt that she, in turn, valued his. Of
course, she had never told him this, but Odo was an
observant person and he felt comfortable in his opinion of
her feelings toward him.

Of late, however, he also experienced a burgeoning sense of
confusion when he thought of Kira. It was a peculiar
sensation for him, one he was unaccustomed to.
Inordinately pleased when he was required to spend time
with her, singularly content to be in her presence even if she
was grousing about her duties or Cardassians or even if she
said nothing and just sat across from him in his office
reading the criminal activity report, he had come to realize
that he cared for her, perhaps rather more than a mere
thisk'a gift could convey...to his chagrin, Odo suddenly
realized he had stopped entering data into his PADD.

Lost time...he chided himself, then shook his head. He put
forth a greater effort and managed to focus his attention on
the dry, uninspiring facts he was entering into the PADD.
This suddenly made him frown; when had his job become
dry and uninspired?

He considered now what his duties were, then shrugged.
His job was somewhat dry and uninspired, but it was still
important. He kept order, enforced the rules and regulations
on the station and detained those who did not see fit to
follow said rules and regulations. That was the nature of a
job in law enforcement.

I am more than a security officer, though, I am the Chief of
Security, he reminded himself, unconsciously sitting
straighter at this thought. Mora thought I would never
achieve anything greater than Mine Inspector for the
Cardassians, but...

At the thought of the man who had seen to his upbringing
on Bajor, Odo unconsciously squirmed in his office chair,
for a moment looking very like Jake Sisko had earlier in the
Bajoran temple.  Well, if no one else appreciates my efforts,
Kira does, he sighed at this thought, filled with a sensation
of contentment as he mused, she is not like the others, she
is...a special woman.

This thought made him frown. It wasn't the first time the
thought had occurred to him, but just when was it he had
started thinking of her in this way? Odo was a highly
observant man and it troubled him to realize he could not
recall when such unusual reflections had begun. This was
quite unlike him; his memory was not like most humanoids.
His recall was of a crystalline clarity that was
incomprehensible to a typical humanoid.  In fact, Odo could
readily remember every aspect of his first sight of Kira
Nerys, how she had looked to him.

She had appeared a typical Bajoran female, somewhat slight
in stature, but with a wiry strength, lithe and intelligent, with
large, dark brown eyes and thick auburn hair that had been
longer then, but still alluring now, highly
appealing...especially to the eyes of someone starved of
beauty for a very long time.  She remains an incredibly
beautiful woman...

Odo blinked, stunned. This thought had no rational reason
for manifesting, whether it was accurate or not. It would
indicate feelings that would doubtless be disturbing to the
Major, who thought of him as a good friend, nothing more,
nothing less. For some reason, this thought also gave him
pause.

Odo set down the PADD and its dry, boring, statistical data
and sighed, suddenly experiencing another unusual
sensation. Was it despondency? What reason would he have
to feel despondent? He had been confined, but now had his
freedom. He had a job, he was well-paid, in fact, there were
many reasons why someone would find him a suitable
partner. Odo frowned now; a partner? When did these
thoughts begin? It was not inconceivable, of course, but he
ought to keep his mind on his work, not on fanciful
improbabilities.

He picked up his PADD again and tried to focus on the
facts before him, reminding himself with his typical
remorseless logic; besides you don't even have a proper
name. His expression grew troubled as he recalled anew just
what Odo stood for and how he had learned what it meant...

. . .

He had spent the evening in the research center's chemical
laboratory, as was his wont, since it was the only place in
the center with windows that the chemists could vent to
dispel unpleasant odors. Having no sense of smell, the place
did not bother the young Odo. He found it called to him,
this place lit from without by a light even brighter than the
center's invasive spotlights, but which somehow wasn't so
harsh and merciless. From the chemlab he had learned of the
changing of the seasons and of such phenomena as rain and
snow and the ever-progressing constellations in the night
sky...and the meaning of his name.


The young Odo had been watching the progress of a tiny
spider making a web near the open window, entranced,
when he heard the sound of approaching voices and being
unsure if the overseers had dropped by for an unannounced
inspection, he had rapidly slipped down from his customary
window perch.  The Cardassians did not like the thought of
anyone walking about freely, much less a still largely
mysterious, metamorphic life form.

When the overseers showed up Odo had learned it was best
for everyone if he was found in Mora's main science lab.
With some judicious maneuvering through the ventilation
system, he could get there from almost any part of the
center in less than a minute. If he had to, he could shed his
shape (and his clothing), and make it even faster, but he had
absorbed the meaning of modesty and decorum from the
reserved Bajorans he had developed amidst. So he had made
his way into the vent, closing the grill silently behind him,
but had stopped at the sound of Soll Torek's voice. He was
one of the chemists, not a Cardassian; Mora Pol had
decided to speak with him after a late day.  Relieved, Odo
had relaxed, about to return to his perch when he heard this:

"He isn't at the window, he's probably in his room.  Tell me,
Mora, how does odo'ital find the boots?"

"He had a bit of trouble with walking at first, but he's used
to them now. Do you know, Soll, that I believe he will
come to be able to make his own clothing, from his own
body?"

"Truly an amazing find, this odo'ital. And the Cardassians
would have vented him in space?"  Odo frowned at this; he
was unaware of this bit of news.  He stayed where he was
and listened more intently.

"You know, I hope to obtain permission to study Odo in a
vacuum environment. With his cellular structure, I believe
he could withstand vacuum for up to an hour, maybe two."

"You'd sooner get permission to free the detainees at
Gallitep, Mora," Soll had chided, not unkindly; the old
chemist was a good friend.

Forwarded message:
To: Asca
From: OdoGoddess@aol.com
Date: 24 Oct 97 06:47:56 -0500
Subject: NEW DS9 [PG13] "Prophets..." 1 of  13


<<< This message is part 2 of a previous message >>>

"Perhaps, but we will never learn all Odo is capable of in
here!"

"True. But the Prophets have decreed this fate for us and
for him."

"Prophets! Bah!  I'm a man of science, not a religious follower."

"You are of Bajor, Pol."

"Well, that might be true, but Odo is not."

"You shorten his name all the time. Why is that?"

"Well, odo'ital isn't exactly a name either, Torek.  Although
it is the only name he responds to now, since we've been
calling him that for so long. Quite frankly, I couldn't think of
anything else to call him.  Splitting it into Odo Ital almost
seems disrespectful to proper Bajoran lineage, though."

"As you pointed out, he is not Bajoran.  He isn't even a true
male, simply a metamorphic creature you've taught to take
this shape."

"But he is, Torek!  He's used to it. When I asked him why
when he changed into other life forms they were always
male, he looked at me as if I'd grown another head. His
chromosomal patterns indicate an almost classically male
archetype, which was why I urged his development toward
a male shape."

"Yes, well, he is still odo'ital to the Cardassians. You were
fortunate they did not find him a danger."

"That is the other reason I kept the name. It is subtle, but
psychological. Think of it, Torek, think of what it comes to
mean if you call someone 'nothing' all the time, and odo'ital
literally means 'nothing of value'.  Even shortening it to Odo
it still means 'nothing'.  Hearing that, the Cardassians look
down on him and I, for one, would prefer they look down
on him, still alive, than fire their disruptors and destroy him.
He is far too valuable a specimen."

. . . 

Odo had not heard anymore, although it might have been of
interest to him. He had been crushed to finally discover the
meaning of his name, and that he was considered a freakish
creature by the scientists he had come to regard almost as
family members.

He had rushed further down the duct, scuttling into a dark
and shadowed corner where he had curled in on himself,
trembling with indignation and shame and a horrified sense
of outrage. The wellspring of pain and anger in him was
deep and it frightened him since he could dimly sense some
of his feelings were already present, some form of racial
memory perhaps, as Mora would have called it, some sense
of resentment against these unchanging creatures that called
themselves humanoids and labeled him 'different'...and
therefore somehow less because of it.

His mobile face scowled in the dark at the thought of the
scientist, but his thoughts and feelings quickly came under
control.  After calming himself, he had continued on to his
quarters; he'd always found solace in reading, or listening to
the well-worn music disk one of the chemists had thrown
away which he had saved from destruction in order to
examine it.

The constable realized now that this early incident had been
his first encounter with shame, that bitter sensation of
humiliation and pain which he had come to know only too
well. Prior to that moment, he had suffered awkwardness,
discomfort, embarrassment even, but the sense of
mortification he had felt at hearing Soll Torek speaking in
that manner about him...Doctor Soll who had always smiled
at him whenever he'd entered the chemlab and politely asked
(as he always had) if he could sit by the window.  Doctor
Soll who had first given him permission to watch him work,
to study him under the glare of bright lights instead of being
studied himself, and who had died several years later at the
hands of a Cardassian glinn who had not been happy with
his answer regarding a compound he had been
mixing...under their orders.

Odo cleared his throat now, recalled instead the enjoyment
he had found in reading, in the discovery of new
information, in the sheer joy at hearing the sounds on that
music disk. It had been his first taste of Human culture, that
disk full of the music Humans called Jazz. From it, he'd
discovered that he enjoyed this thing called music. He also
came to learn the Bajoran form of it which was similar, but
much more sedate, more controlled and for some reason,
even more sublime.

While he preferred Bajoran music, Odo still found the sound
of music even remotely similar to that on the disk filled him
with an odd sense of excitement, yet also a sense of
contentment. This was a feeling Humans would have called
'a taste of home'. Odo did not know this, he had no place he
called home, but he knew he liked it. And, oh, the sound of
Bajoran music...!

The sound of the flute, the lilting call of the st'riiel, the
haunting response from the than'el, every note held in check,
the melody reined in and somehow throbbing with
unexpressed force, piercing the air to lift the spirit with it.

One thing that Odo had never questioned then or now, was
whether he had a spirit to be lifted. Much as his
metamorphic ability, it was simply there...and if he had no
need to feed his body, he nonetheless strove to feed the
spirit it housed.  If the anguished young shapeshifter in the
ductwork had waited a moment longer he would have heard
something which might have gone a long way toward
soothing his too-often wounded spirit.

...

"He's much too valuable, Torek!"

"Be honest, Pol. You care for him, for Odo. He is like your
own child."

"Is it that obvious?"

"You've given a great deal of your time to his founding, his
education. It is only natural you care."

"And natural to fear the Cardassians taking him...taking him
and..."

"What?  Destroying him?"

"No, that would be kind, Torek. I just don't want them to
come to think he can be made into a weapon...a weapon for
their cause. I'd hate for that gentle creature to become a
pawn of our enemies."

...

What Odo did recall now was how he had returned to his
well-monitored room where his pail was, and studied the
texts on Bajoran customs, in particular naming customs. He
had learned that names were dictated by d'jarras, the caste-
system Bajor had relied on for centuries, whose use had
fallen since the Occupation. He had learned that after
marriage, Bajoran religious custom still dictated that the
party of lesser stature take the d'jarras of the partner with
greater status, taking on their name as well and wearing the
earring of that caste.

But I have no 'd'jarras', he thought now with a sigh, so what
is there for me in this regard? And when I asked this of
Mora..._

"The Prophets obviously intend other for someone such as
you, Odo. Be glad, because you have many gifts...many,
many gifts," the scientist had said with enthusiasm. Odo had
not entirely believed this point of view, but had said
nothing.

What had Mora been implying, he wondered now. That no
woman would accept someone like me as a potential mate
anyway? That no woman would choose to be with someone
like me with a shapeshifter a creature who doesn't even have
his own quarters?

Of course, that wasn't an entirely accurate assessment he
knew. Commander Sisko and the Major had long railed at
him to accept quarters on the Habitat Ring, to stop utilizing
the storage closet in Security, but he had never cared for
this idea. He disliked being away from the office and did not
stop to analyze why, although it was easy to fathom; the
security office was the first place he could call his own.

He had built it up from a dark and abandoned Cardassian
concession into the clean and well-lit, smoothly-running
central locus where all station activity could be monitored.
He was quite proud of his office; he was proud to be able to
say it was his office. It was for this reason that he resisted
Starfleet efforts to install their own head of security aboard
the station; then he would be forced to share this space and
he did not want to. He had made that abundantly clear to
George Primmin, Lieutenant late of DS9, who had
requested transfer to a starship after Odo had ordered him
to go against Starfleet regulations.

But if I feel this way about this impersonal office, how can I
ever share more with someone else? The constable sat back,
station and PADD utterly forgotten as he admitted to
himself now that this thought was not so foreign as once it
might have been. He had not realized it, though, until four
months ago...on the day Kira Nerys had sat with her back to
him atop his desk and guilelessly told him that she loved
Bareil. It had been one of the most painful moments in his
life, an astonishing claim considering the manner of his life
until now, and still it disturbed him deeply.

It is her right to be with the man of her choosing, Odo
argued with himself, even as he fought the irrational sense
of resentment that filled him against the gentle Bajoran
vedek. It was not at the fact the man had gained Kira's
heart, but at the fact that he was humanoid, a Bajoran with a
d'jarras and a name, a man who knew his family and was able
to provide all the things that he could not and never would
be able to.

Odo sighed now, an emulation he had mastered with a
disparagingly abundant amount of practice and told himself
firmly, count yourself lucky she considers herself to be your
friend...but would Kira ever think of him as more?  Would
any woman?  Why did it matter?

Surely any logical person could see how unlikely, how
laughable it was to imagine someone like him, a non-
humanoid, a shapeshifting life form, finding anything more
than friendship with someone like the Major. In fact, any
humanoid woman would probably find the mere thought of
such a thing quite disturbing.  He had nothing to offer - no
name, no family  he could not even tell anyone what race it
was he belonged to.  No, all he could hope for was
friendship and that he knew he had already with Kira.

She was a very good friend and she trusted him.  Friendship
was a valuable thing besides, not to be trifled, and he valued
deeply what he had with Kira.  He knew she also found
value in her friendship with him. This thought heartened him
and he turned back to his previous task, checking the figures
on his PADD.  They remained the same, endless and
methodical, much as his manner of living.  Odo scowled and
set it aside.

It could wait.  The death chant would be over soon and he
needed to obtain a thisk'a gift. He already knew exactly
what he wanted to get her. He hoped he would be able to
obtain it. He hoped it would be appropriate. He hoped Kira
would like it.

He swallowed somewhat nervously, unaware, as he checked
the monitors once more, assuring himself of station status,
then shut down his desk console, preparatory to closing his
office before leaving to attend to his self-appointed task.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

To:               Asca
From:             OdoGoddess@aol.com
Date sent:        24 Oct 97 06:48:28 -0500
Subject:          NEW DS9 [PG13] "Prophets..." 2 of  13


DISCLAIMER:  This non-profit material not intended
to infringe upon the Star Trek copyrights of Viacom,
Paramount Pictures Corporation, nor those of any other
legal holders of Star Trek copyrights.

        ----------------------------------
All The Prophets Will Bestow, pt. 2
by Judith Macquinn (OdoGoddess@aol.com)
& Cam Burnell (CameronB@juno.com)


The station's Ferengi bar owner scowled when the young,
dark-skinned 'hew-mon' entered his establishment. While
Quark typically put on his best face in order to ingratiate
clients, in this case, the boy could not help him. The bar had
been quiet for days, ever since the fate of the colony on
New Bajor had been discovered. The station's occupants
were mostly Bajoran and with this tragedy occurring, none
had attended his bar, entering a state of mourning.

Worse, with the new threat from the Jem'Hadar, the
declaration of hostilities had sent traffic away from DS9,
hence away from his bar. Only his regular customers, like
Morn, were in attendance and his profits had dropped from
the uninspiring to the dismal.

So Jake Sisko's presence in his bar now did not fill Quark
with joy despite being a possible customer. The boy could
not legally drink or gamble and would not use the holosuites
for anything more expensive than the family-style game and
sporting entertainment which he provided for station
personnel and their children at discount. Worse, the boy had
taken to bothering his best dabo girl, Marta, frequenting her
table and making the girl ignore her regular customers. In
all, Quark was having a miserable day.

"Rom, go home."

His brother looked up at this, having been carefully wiping
already clean glasses at the end of the bar.

"I'm scheduled to work all night, brother," Rom reminded
him.

"If you expect me to pay you for standing around doing
nothing, think again!" Quark scowled, now in a fiercesome
mood. Rom could not argue with this and did not want to
despite the fact that this would severely impact his take-
home pay for the week. He could use the time to lecture
Nog; the boy had been frittering his time recently.

The small Ferengi removed his apron and made his way out
of the bar, smiling at Jake who waved at him as he passed
by. Now Jake was a boy a Ferengi would be proud to have
for a son; he dawdled in school, hung around the bar
seeking opportunities with the dabo women, he had even
made a little profit the other evening at dom-jot. Nog, on
the other hand, had taken to squandering his small salary on
model starships of late, spending hours studying engineering
schematics and even constructing a holo-model of a warp
engine. What sort of profit was in that, Rom wondered.

His son worried him a little, truth be told. He was nearing
the age of attainment and had yet to discuss who he
intended on apprenticing himself with. Rom hoped Nog
would seek to enter apprenticeship with the Nagus or
perhaps Krax, the Nagus' son, or even cousin Gaila, who
owned a moon and would surely find a good spot for Nog
in a privately owned concession. He hoped most of all, that
the boy would not seek the expeditious way out and
apprentice himself to Quark.

While Rom loved his brother, in fact he loved all his family
dearly, he also knew there was more to life than running a
bar on DS9. While he had never attained a loftier position
than helping his brother, he knew Nog still had his entire life
ahead of him. Most of all, he wanted the biggest, the best,
the finest and most profitable of ventures for his only son.
Nog deserved no less.


          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)


Aside from the constable, the Starfleet skeleton crew at
Ops, and Quark's employees, the only other person on the
station who was not attending the Bajoran remembrance
ceremony was the one who had the most in common with
Chief Constable Odo.

Garak was the only one of his kind on the station. Of
course, he did know who his people were, where they were
and he was fully aware of his origins and what had brought
him to the Bajoran system and hence to DS9. Unfortunately,
unlike the constable who still harbored the chance to
someday be united with his people and live among them,
Garak harbored no such hope. Like Odo, he counted
himself fortunate to have a job, albeit a dull and uninspiring
one, and he felt more than reasonably secure in his work
skills.

Having grown up working in his uncle's textile shop, he had
developed a grasp of the fundamentals in the profession of
garment-making. Like Odo, he found himself pondering the
day-to-day of his life on the station of late. Unlike Odo, he
allowed himself the occasional indulgence, be it wine,
women or wrong; wrong in the sense that his covert
activities had already led to difficulties for the station
personnel, difficulties they had yet to pinpoint to him. One
had even led to a very serious incident, what had been
termed accidental, what Sisko and the station personnel had
taken to calling the 'mirror-universe' incursion.

They had never figured out what caused that warp nacelle
to malfunction and they probably never would, Garak
thought now and smiled in his shop. Such trivial exercises
had done much for his morale. Prior to his withdrawal from
the addictive effects of a pleasure-center activating device,
he might not have taken such childish joy in such simple
subterfuge, but now...Garak sighed.

The station's young Human doctor, Julian Bashir, had
successfully overseen his withdrawal, provided him
companionable camaraderie and bracing lunchtime
conversations. In his turn, Garak had become something of
a changed man. Not outwardly, where he maintained his
affable, somewhat odious charm, but inwardly, where he
maintained his razor-sharp and calculating mind at it's
keenest edge, on the ready to take advantage of any
situation which presented itself.

He knew that someday he would return to Cardassia, ringed
in glory...or at least, no longer in disgrace. Only a patient
man could consider himself doing so after what Garak had
been charged and convicted with. He counted himself quite
fortunate that his official record had been expunged and that
he'd maintained enough friends in lofty positions to list his
most heinous crime as tax evasion. While a serious crime, it
would not bar his return, once he made good on reparation,
that is.

Of course, he really *was* guilty of tax evasion, but he had
never known an Obsidian Order operative who wasn't. They
rarely had time to perform the tedious, time-consuming
task, much less could they even begin to itemize their job-
related expenses. Now, he could easily itemize his job-
expenses, but now he did not pay tribute to the Cardassian
empire.  He paid his concession fees, his import duties, his
annual residency dues and the yearly renewal fee for his
station visa.  After these expenses were taken care of, it left
whatever he made from his semi-popular shop free and clear
and he had steady customers...usually.

With recent events, however, none of his steady customers
had been in evidence of late and, worse, his visa expired the
next month.  In fact, he was considering closing down his
shop and going to his quarters early to consider his options,
when his commpanel buzzed. He frowned; a chime indicated
a call from somewhere within the station, probably a
customer checking on an order, but the buzz indicated a
subspace call and he rarely received those in his shop.

"Computer, scramble incoming message and encode to
Garak engram twelve."

"Working."

Within moments, the message began to play in scrambled,
slip-shod Cardassian of a dialect he doubted even Enabran
Tain could decipher. It was a dialect he had only ever heard
in the fruit orchards of Kessik, a tiny village where his uncle
came from. Nestled amid the fruit orchards had been the
fields of flax which had made his uncle a wealthy textile
merchant.

Unskilled labor such as picking reaping was performed on
Cardassia by those whose mental skills were insufficient to
anything else.  The Cardassians, as a race, were ruthlessly
efficient and rational people.  Why waste any useful citizen?
Those people had their own thick and gutteral dialect which
Garak heard often as a child and grown to understand, but
few others without need to ever had.

He had come to utilize it during his time as an operative for
the Obsidian Order and no one had yet to decipher it. Garak
found a delightful irony in using the speech patterns of the
mentally deficient to foil those who were supposed to be
brilliant tacticians.

What the message said was this:

        Ion storm, L-8P, F-2/approach. Danger. 
        FOP down, evac-o evac-w.

Loosely translated, this meant a large ion storm was
approaching the station, that the station personnel had yet
to be notified because Starfleet was downplaying the serious
nature of the storm, but that an evacuation was sure to take
place. Garak now had the time to either prepare or to figure
out where to go if he decided to leave. He did not have
many boltholes open to him, but he could leave.

I will stay, he thought, but pondered if he shouldn't try
saying something to the station personnel, thereby providing
them more time to prepare, to evacuate. Who would he tell,
he wondered, Bashir?

The young doctor was a good friend and had proved quite
circumspect, but was also overly curious. He would want to
know where Garak got his information. No, he needed to
tell someone who would expect him to have such
information, but also expect him to not divulge where he
got it from. He knew just the person...to his surprise, this
very person suddenly walked into his establishment.

To the tailor's observant eye, Odo looked somewhat ill at
ease. Then again, Garak thought, the shapeshifter doesn't
really wear any clothing. His shop was not a place that the
constable would ever enter unless he had business to attend
to, like the investigation of an unusual transmission,
perhaps?

"What can I do for you, constable?" he inquired pleasantly.
"While you don't have any real need to frequent my
establishment, I have often thought to myself how a new
look would definitely suit you. For instance, have you
thought of adding a collar to your uniform? It would add a
certain panache to your look, an air of authority."

Odo eyed him as if he had grown another head. Without
preamble, the constable merely said, "I came to ask you
something."

"Of course."

"Do you have any Garadiian silk?"

Garak blinked. This was the last question he had expected
to come from Odo. For one thing, he had only just learned
of Garadiian silk himself, obtained a very pricy sample bolt
of it via a passing Pakled by way of trading some judicial
information for it. For another, he would never dream of the
constable having any need whatsoever for Garadiian silk.
That particular fabric was exceedingly rare, touted now in
Federation circles as being the softest, most exquisite
material in the known universe. Simply put, Garadiian silk
was so soft and incredibly luxuriant as to make a Klingon
weep. What the decidedly conservative and seemingly-
indifferent constable of DS9 would want with some was
quite beyond Garak's comprehension.

He smiled, however as he replied, "In fact, I just obtained a
sample bolt, not much more than a few meters I'm afraid.
Did you want to see it?"

As he asked this, Garak suddenly realized what Odo
probably wanted with the silk; doubtless, there was a stolen
lot of impounded fabric in one of the cargo bays, or perhaps
a swatch of unfamiliar fabric had been discovered on a
murder victim and he needed to identify it. More confident
now, Garak stepped to one of his locking cabinets and
opened it. Garadiian silk was almost priceless; a swatch
could sell for bars, not *strips*, of gold-press latinum; so if
someone had been found murdered, he would be able to
explain to the constable why someone had chosen to kill in
order to obtain it.

He carefully removed the bolt of incredibly sheer and
delicate iridescence from its lined locker and presented it to
Odo. To his unending surprise, the constable stretched out a
hand and actually carressed the fabric, then nodded to
himself, almost as if deciding something. He then pulled his
hand back, almost reluctantly, and inclined his head at the
tailor.

"I want you to make me a scarf from some of that...say one
and a half meters in length?" Garak blinked and Odo added,
"I need it within the hour and I don't care about the cost."


          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)


While Odo calmly waited in Garak's shop, watching the
Cardassian carefully fashion a scarf and listening to his
suggested uniform revisions, Assistant Ops watch
commander Denayla frowned at her status console. An odd
glitch kept appearing and disappearing in sector Thirteen on
the station, an area of the Docking Ring.

Being Bajoran, the superstitious number did not give
Denayla pause, but the fleeting nature of the phenomenon
disturbed her. It could be a structural breech. If so, she
should inform the Chief Engineer so it could be repaired. It
could also be a sensor glitch, in which case the Chief
Engineer would get cross at responding to what might be a
simple power fluctuation in her monitor. She would have to
get in it's guts and perform a level-one diagnostic.

"Dolan," she called to the engineering assistant, another
Bajoran, the only two on the station not attending the
memorial service. Both had good reason, they had already
performed the death chant with their families since both had
lost kin on New Bajor.

"Sargeant?"

"Take the con, I'm going to perform a diagnostic on this
*be-jzelld* piece of Cardassian junk," she replied succinctly,
suiting word to action as she grabbed a scanner and opened
the panel, sliding herself into the console at record speed,
not even bothering to see if Dolan had acknowledged her
order.

She didn't have to bother, it turned out; Dolan had already
transferred the station status readouts to his console and
logged in the change in watch status in the activity report
before she could get her shoulders into the opening.


          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)


"The council won't take kindly to your not evacuating the
station, Intendant." Garak sneered at Kira across her desk in
her office on Terok Nor.

"I think they'd take less kindly to a drop in ore-production,
Garak. Besides, this ion storm will take less time to pass by
than it would to evacuate everyone.  The shields should
hold."

"I still think--"

"It is my decision to make, Garak," Kira interrupted with
finality. The Intendant was becoming irritated at the
Cardassian. Of late, she had been quite irritated with
everyone.

This irritation had started when her slave-lover Benjamin
Sisko had shown his true colors and become the renegade
Terran leader of their laughable rebellion. The only reason
Garak did not grow angry at their actions was that the
Intendant was the one who had provided the Terran with
the means to enact his current mischief. He had made sure
the Alliance council knew that!

"Just so.  Tell me, Intendant  was it your decision to provide
the rebellion the shipping routes for our cargo ships?  Or
was that a lucky guess on the part of your old Terran
lover?"

The Intendant leveled a deadly glare at her second-in-
command, a nostril-widening sneer that barely kept her
teeth covered. She was a very tolerant woman, but this
Cardassian rankled her terribly. I'm definitely going to have
to kill him...someday.

She turned from him for a moment, careful to keep his
reflection on her office viewscreen in her line of vision.
Garak had yet to stop trying to kill her and despite the fact
she documented each of his attempts to the Alliance
Council, he retained his office, which meant he had
assistance from someone on the council.

Since they merely overlooked his murder attempts, she was
constrained to keep a close eye on him. She had not
complained about his last few months of attempts, no matter
how close they had come. She wanted him to feel she was
getting lax, but bided her time and worked out her method
of killing him with private glee. Such thoughts filled her
more stressful days with a decided sense of pleasure.

The only thing that kept her from killing him outright was
the uncertainty of who the Alliance would put in his place.
She well knew their manner of promotions and she could be
partnered with someone worse, although she could barely
imagine someone with more difficult attributes than Garak.

I wish Odo were still here, she thought to herself now, with
a heartfelt sigh. Even though they had not remained lovers,
he had remained a fairly loyal man to her cause. He had
acted as a buffer between Garak and her until his untimely
demise. Tears filled her eyes now as she recalled her
erstwhile shapeshifting lover. He was so proud, so strong,
so...loyal.

She cleared her throat now, refusing to allow Garak to see
even momentary weakness. She turned back to him.  "I
want you to see to the station shields, Garak."

"Shields? I have no knowledge of engineering, Intendant."

"Then you'd better learn, hadn't you?" she smiled at him
toothily. "As I understand it, there is a variation in Sector
Thirteen. I'd hate for there to be a shield breech during the
upcoming storm."

Her smile widened as he stormed out of her office,
grumbling dire imprecations under his breath and she began
laughing her throaty chuckle at the thought of her second-
in-command floating free and suitless in the vacuum of
space, a peaceful sight for several seconds, until the
incredible influence of vacuum exerted its effects on his
hapless body...and he exploded.


          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)


Benjamin Sisko inclined his head at Vedek Zil.

"Emissary," the elderly man intoned respectfully as he
passed by. The commander of Deep Space Nine just
avoided a sigh; he found this veneration for simply being
present to be discomfitting, but he did not correct the
elderly Bajoran. Instead he managed a smile and continued
on out of the station temple.

Despite exiting the darkness and the sadness within the
temple, the familiar environs of the Promenade did not
hearten Sisko. The lengthy ceremony had given him time to
think, to ponder the situation on the station and in the
Gamma Quadrant.

Whoever or whatever the Dominion was, their indifferent
attitude toward destroying an entire colony of peaceful
people was a horrifying one. He had already made plans to
attend the next Federation meeting regarding matters in the
Gamma Quadrant, scheduled at Starfleet Command for four
days hence. He had informed Admiral Boyle he would be
leaving the station after the Bajoran ceremony honoring
their dead; as their appointed Emissary, it would not do for
him to avoid such a solemn occasion. As the ranking
Starfleet officer and representative of the Federation in the
region, he was required to follow whatever local customs
and his own comfort level dictated.

While he hated funerals, the enormity of this loss and what
it indicated mandated that he attend this service, so he had.
Now he wondered if there was something else he should do
to somehow provide reassurance to Bajor.

"Commander, a word with you please."

He turned around to find the long, lean figure of Odo
approaching. To his surprise, the constable held a small,
ornate wooden box, a Bajoran construct which he
recognized as a memento-holder. The Bajorans used them
for special occasions, days of birth, days of naming or to
commemorate a specific day. He could not recall it being
anyone's birthday, but Sisko opted not to ask; it was really
none of his business. More interesting, though, was the
addition of a collar to his uniform jacket. To Benjamin's
fascinated interest, the collar added a certain touch of elan
to the constable's otherwise colorless ensemble. It seemed
even Odo felt the need for a dress uniform this day. Sisko
gave him a small smile and nodded.

"What is it, constable?"

"I'm afraid I've come across a disturbing bit of news,
possibly just a rumor, but it should be investigated," Odo
began, shifting the small box under an arm to free his hands.

To the commander's fascinated interest, when the constable
lifted his arm to point down the Promenade, the box was
gone  somehow secreted within his body  a trick possible
thanks to his security chief's metamorphic nature. Sisko
swallowed and tried to ignore this minor bit of biological
wizardry as Odo began to speak.

"Our Cardassian tailor just informed me a level eight ion
storm may be approaching this system."

"What?"

"I figured you would want to know. A storm that size could
wreak havoc throughout the entire system."

"Not to mention the station," Sisko mused with a sigh, then
as more people began to file out of the temple, he took the
constable aside and asked, "Do you believe Mr. Garak,
Odo?"
"He has no reason to lie about this, Commander. Even if
he's exaggerating, however, I felt it best to inform you.  Our
shields can certainly handle it, but it might be best to
consider evacuating the station of all non-essential persons."

"Thank you, constable. I'll get to Ops immediately. In the
interim, review evacuation protocol, but keep this to your
self."

"Aye, sir." The shapeshifter nodded gravely and looked to
the temple entrance momentarily as Sisko turned away to
the turbolift.

The commander did not see Odo sigh regretfully, nor see his
expressive gaze soften as the Major walked out of the
temple and begin speaking with Zil. As he would have fully
expected of the constable, Odo's moment of reflection was
fleeting.

DS9's Chief of Security turned from the temple and headed
back to his office, intent on following his orders as they
were given, despite the fact it kept him from a pressing,
personal duty.


          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)


"Have you spoken with Bareil?"

The elderly vedek shook his head, then he smiled gently at
the young woman before him and reached out to grasp her
ear. She inclined her head in proper Bajoran fashion,
allowing him to 'read' her pagh, her life-force. She had little
doubt her appearance troubled the old cleric; she had little
emotional control in regards to Bajoran ceremonies, they
tended to make her weep in heartfelt appreciation of the
rhythmic harmony, the beauty of the music and her own
private belief in and veneration of the Prophets.

"Funerals make me...a little emotional, vedek," she
whispered.

"This is understandable. However, your pagh indicates a
duality of purpose. Love and Duty are powerful forces;
together they are marvelous allies, opposed they make
turbulence in the soul. Your pagh is a stormy one, child."

She smiled at this old-fashioned appraisal. "I guess love and
duty are opposed right now, vedek, but I'm not sure what to
do about it. I can't leave my job, but--"

"Bareil is on Bajor and cannot leave his job, either. I
understand more than you realize and I cannot say I'm
surprised. Bareil never could take the easy path. Now he
chooses a woman whose work and pagh lead her away from
Bajor, the planet he feels apprehensive over leaving. Yet
neither of you feels whole without the other," Zil sighed.
"Perhaps it would be best to not speak with me, but to
speak with Bareil yourself, my child."


          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)


"You are still troubled, Bareil?"

The young vedek lifted his head at this, then inclined it again
in ancient greeting to the Kai who had entered his chambers.
It was not Winn he displayed deference to, but the office
she held, which he knew was of more significance than the
flesh, bones and blood of the one who attained it. She
personified the wish of the Prophets as he had interpreted
their vision to him four months before...the time of Winn's
election to the office he had once believed ordained for him.

The Kai merely slanted a sidelong look at him, as if judging
his true feelings, then without preamble, she grasped his ear
and assessed his pagh. She released him with alacrity, to his
relief, but her eyes narrowed yet more.

"You are guarded, Bareil. I'm quite certain this is not the
manner of cooperation you speak of among the assembly
when it gathers."

"No, your Eminence. I am merely troubled by personal
matters."

"You must consider what I have advised, Bareil, and rid
yourself of distractions to your office. What the Prophets
ask is of far greater significance than matters of the flesh, is
that not what we are taught?"

"Yes, Kai."

"Then your relationship with the Major has been severed?"

His eyes looked up at this, their expression best described as
hard, but he was careful not to expose his resentment.  It
was not difficult; he had grown up in a Cardassian refugee
camp during the Occupation, where one learned to hide
feelings that could bring about punishment.

"I seek to follow the way of the Prophets, your Eminence,"
he replied non-committally. Winn noted this, but did not
respond since his answer was vedek-correct.

"In that case, Vedek Bareil, I would ask how your
negotiation went with the legate?" She was referring to the
communication she'd asked him to begin on her behalf with
the Cardassian government's legate, Turrel. It was such an
unexpected honor to be accorded such duty by the Kai that
the vedek had not been able to turn down this request,
personally distasteful as being assigned to her staff of
advisors and dealing with Winn on a constant basis might
be.

"Communications were not functioning for some reason,
your Eminence. I intend to re-try in the morning." He did
not add that he had not been able to raise the station either,
since this would merely serve to inform her that his
relationship with Kira continued despite her objections to it.

"How odd. I haven't been informed of any unusual difficulty
with our equipment or the subspace array," Winn mused.
She tilted her head at the vedek. He did not lie, although he
had learned how to couch his answers in prophecy, and he
was not lying now, she knew.

"The Prophets would say for us to bide our time and wait,
your Eminence. There is surely a reason for my difficulty."

The Kai considered this, then smiled. It was a warm and
motherly smile, but the coldness behind it made Bareil
swallow. "Indeed. Then I leave you to your contemplation,
Vedek."

"Your Eminence?"

She turned back, an expectant expression on her face. Bareil
got the distinct impression that she had also savored those
words, not just from him, but hearing them from anyone. It
was, after all, the lifelong ambition of many of the clerics to
achieve such a lofty position. Covetousness is not of Bajor,
he recalled now.

"I merely wish to ask you to reconsider your mandate
against my consulting the Tear of the Prophet."

"I thought my position was clear, Bareil," she intoned
carefully, her words well-considered, almost rehearsed.
"You are entering a very difficult negotiation. Your
interpretation of events can be clouded by the imagery the
Prophets would present you."

"I merely wish to consider my current position, your
Eminence. I seek answers in the present, not the future."

"I'm afraid I cannot justify your entering the Orb Chamber,
Bareil. It is too dangerous for you to risk exposure to the
Tear of the Prophet at this time. These negotiations you are
conducting are not just for me, but for all of Bajor. Surely
you can see how important it is to maintain your neutrality
in this matter?"

"Yes, your Eminence," Bareil sighed, unable to keep the
disappointed tone out of his voice. He wished she had not
chosen him for her staff of advisors if she was not going to
even consider any of his requests.

"Very well. I trust you in this matter.  Perhaps it would do
you good to meditate.  Have you tried the vorhai chant?"

"No, your Eminence."

"I find it a very useful meditation in troubling times. I
suggest you try it and see if doesn't provide you some peace
of mind."

"Thank you, your Eminence."

"Not at all. You are one of the children of the Prophets and
I am your leader as they have decreed. I do not like to see
any of my order in distress. It speaks ill of my tutelage and
of my temperament. It is my wish that all in my order be
able to seek my comfort and guidance."

"You are kind, your Eminence."

Bareil's words were less recognition of her perspective than
a softly spoken dismissal. Winn's eyes narrowed even more
and she inclined her head once more and stepped out of his
chambers.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

To:               Asca
From:             OdoGoddess@aol.com
Date sent:        24 Oct 97 06:49:00 -0500
Subject:          NEW DS9 [PG13] "Prophets..." 3 of  13


DISCLAIMER:  Not intended to infringe on copyrights of
Viacom, Paramount, nor any other legal holders of Star
Trek copyright.

     ----------------------------------
All The Prophets Will Bestow, pt. 3
by Judith Macquinn (OdoGoddess@aol.com)
& Cam Burnell (CameronB@juno.com)


Doctor Julian Bashir stepped out of the temple, having
fallen into conversation with Prylar Zehr'ha at the
conclusion of the ceremony. He had been fascinated by the
ceremony and his genuine interest and questions had
charmed the young monk.  She inclined her head now at
the symbol of Bajor which hung in the Promenade. 

"That is the symbol of our faith. The Vedek Assembly was
quite pleased the Ministers Council approved the uniform
design for the Militia which incorporated the symbol. I
feel, as do many clerics, that soldiers require the most
guidance of all from the Prophets."

"Really?" Julian considered this, then asked, "What of
doctors, such as myself?"

"Healers are held in high esteem by all. You must tend to
the body which houses the pagh. You nurture, provide
succor, heal and this takes compassion. You are exposed to
the person at their most vulnerable and this requires great
integrity."

Bashir blinked, rather taken aback at her obviously deeply
felt sincerity.  "Yes, well, I do try."

"You do more than try. Your presence at the ceremony was
a great honor to Bajor, Doctor. You helped establish the
colony, you came to venerate the dead. It is no small thing
and believe me, it will not be forgotten," she assured him.

"Thank you. Really, I just felt I had to come."

"Your presence honored us." 

She blinked up at him with dark, liquid black eyes that
were filled with such genuine admiration he felt a sense of
shame in having considered asking her if she wouldn't care
to accompany him to dinner that evening...perhaps leading
to more, but it would not be proper, he told himself.

"Yes, well, if you'll excuse me, I really need to return to my
office."

Bashir headed for the Infirmary and the safety of his office.
Zehr'ha watched as he walked down the Promenade,
wishing that Humans weren't so stringently adherent to
keeping their religion separate from their work and their
environment. It made them see religion as separate from
their life and it was not  faith resided inside one  how could
one separate oneself?  She sighed now, a bit crestfallen. 

Zehr'ha had been hoping the handsome young doctor would
notice her for over two months, but he seemed to consider
her nothing more than a simple cleric first, a woman
second. Perhaps in the future...she consoled herself now
and then returned to the temple and her private
contemplations.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Denayla carefully pulled herself from under the console
just as Commander Sisko stepped onto Ops and she
stepped right up to him. He forebore comment on her
dusty, disheveled condition, as she stopped before him,
scanner in hand.

"Report, Sargeant."

"Sir, my status console has been showing a momentary
glitch in Sector Thirteen of the Docking Ring. I've finished
conducting a level-one diagnostic on my console, but there
doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it, so I don't think
this is a power fluctuation or sensor glitch. I'm afraid we
have some form of structural breech that the station shields
are masking."

"Didn't the Chief say that the new Starfleet interface didn't
'cooperate' with the Cardassian equipment in his last
engineering status report?" 

"I believe he did, sir."

"So that interface could mask a problem.  Thank you,
Denayla."

She gave him a brief nod and stepped off of Ops into the
turbolift, her shift over; Dolan was waiting for Dax to
arrive.  Sisko tapped the nearest touch plate now. 

"Sisko to O'Brien."

"Aye, sir?"

"Chief, Sargeant Denayla has been monitoring what could
be a structural integrity problem in the Docking Ring,
Sector Thirteen. Would you please investigate? I'd hate the
thought of even a minor station breech causing us trouble."

"I'm with you, sir. I'll get my motility spanner and report to
you as soon as I've finished checking it out."

"Thank you, chief. Sisko out." He turned as Dax stepped
onto Ops still in her dress uniform. 

"What's the matter, Benjamin?" she asked, foregoing all
protocol to address him as her symbiont had for nearly
twenty years prior to her joining with it. However that had
been in the body of Curzon, an old man who had been fond
of Sisko and passed on that fully formed fondness to the
new host.

"Check this out, old man," he replied without preamble,
pointing to a console readout. She stepped up, accepting
the moniker as it had been intended; a gesture of warm
affection for the friendship Benjamin had enjoyed with the
previous form of 'her' via the symbiont. 

Trill relationships were exceedingly complicated for most
non-symbiotic life forms to understand. Fortunately,
matters were greatly simplified when the non-symbiotic life
form simply accepted the new host as another form of the
person they knew before, no matter what the other form or
gender.  In this case, Sisko found it easier to relate to the
statuesque and lovely young woman by thinking of Curzon
whenever he spoke to her. The momentary image of the
elderly Trill staved off the uncustomary and inconvenient
sexual desire which he automatically and naturally felt on
sight of her, being a normal Human male.

Dax stepped up next to him, the oddly-familiar smell of
Trill d'laani momentarily recalling to him more than a few
bachelor exploits he had shared with Dax's previous host,
Curzon, before he managed to shake off the reverie and
ask, "Do you think this could be a large ionic pulse from
some spatial phenomenon or an honest-to-goodness storm,
Dax?"

She nodded at Dolan as she positioned herself in front of
her console to study the readings in their entirety.  The
Bajoran man exited Ops as she tapped a few sequences into
the science console before her, re-imaged the data, called
forth another two-dimensional viewscreen image on an
adjoining screen. 

As she did this, she said teasingly, "What made you go
from normal ionic distortion to deadly ion storm?  That's a
wide margin of consideration for a man of decidedly non-
scientific bent, Benjamin."

"Is it or isn't it, old man?"

She considered his expectant expression and studied the
results of the data.  "It's a storm, Benjamin.  At least level
seven, maybe level eight, and it's headed right for this
system. But you didn't answer me  how did you know?"

He sighed. "Our friendly station tailor either has better
equipment or better connections than we do, old man. One
day I swear I'm going to find out which."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Before Kira could change out of her dress uniform or
access her personal terminal in her quarters, her
commbadge signalled.  She tapped it with a sigh.

"Kira here, go ahead."

"Sorry to interrupt, Major, but I need to let you know that a
high-level ion storm is approaching the system. 
Communications have been sketchy for a couple of hours. 
As soon as the chief finishes inspecting the Docking Ring,
he and Benjamin will be taking the Orinoco to map its
course and warn the Provisional government and the
colonies along the outer system."

Dax sounded calm and untroubled, but Kira could sense the
undertone of concern in her voice. Any ion storm could
ravage the system, not to mention the station, which was
still not entirely fortified against any kind of stress, despite
Chief O'Brien's best efforts.  Fortunately very few people
were on the station...thanks to the Dominion.

Kira sighed.  "Will you need me at Ops?"

"Yes, we could use help with evacuation protocol. I'm
sorry, Major, I know this is a bad time."

"I understand. I'll be there as soon as I can. Kira out."

She looked longingly at the viewscreen, then shut off her
thoughts from her lover and focused them on the duties
which lay ahead.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

On Terok Nor, Garak frowned at the readings on his
scanner. The Intendant had not been wrong, but he wouldn't
put it past her to have caused the trouble simply to get him
into an airlock so she could blow him out without
protective gear. He studiously avoided the airlock as he
investigated the situation with care.

The integrity breech turned out to be a microscopic crack
near an airlock in the toranium strut that attached pylon to
docking ring. Apparently the stress of some overloaded
cargo freighter had probably started it and it had grown as
the airlock was used over the years. For now, though, it
posed no threat so long as no ships docked at the airlock.
He tried to secure the hatch, but for some reason, the
device would not cycle down. Machines!

Garak hated this monstrous station with its constant repair
problems. The fact that the Alliance allowed Terran
technicians, such as the defected O'Brien who had taken
what he'd learned to provide it to the rebellion, made him
angrier yet. He could not wait to make his way onto the
council where some things would be changed almost
immediately. At this thought, he smiled and tapped his
communicator.

"Garak to Intendant."

"Go on, Garak."

"This breech is microscopic, barely worthy of mention.
However, I put it to you that we shouldn't have anyone
dock at airlock 14 until it can be repaired.  It will also need
to be repaired before the ion storm strikes."

"Very well. Is that all?"

"Well, that and the fact that the airlock won't cycle down
and lock, I believe so, Intendant. Then again, I'm not the
one who approved Terran technicians on the station. If you
had--"

"Shut up, Garak." She sounded amused, and she was. Kira
was well-aware how much the Cardassian hated being
interrupted. For a moment in her office, her eyes grew sad
as she recalled that it had been Odo who told her of Garak's
resentment against being ordered to be quiet. They had
shared much, she and the Supervisor.  She missed him
deeply at times like these.

"Very well, Intendant. I don't suppose you'd care to come
down to the airlock and inspect the situation for yourself? I
know how fond you are of dark, secluded places."
Kira refused to be baited. "Have I ever told you how
amusing I find your sense of humor, Garak?"

"About as often as we've shared a bed, Intendant," he
riposted evenly, with the merest trace of menace in his
tone. While he despised the Intendant, he had often
considered what he would do if their roles were ever
reversed.

"Don't flatter yourself, Garak."

"I rather think I was flattering you, Intendant," he retorted,
then before she could comeback, he curtailed their
conversation by tapping his commbadge again. 

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Once initiated, the evacuation of DS9 was an orderly one,
the shopkeepers having already shut down for the time of
mourning. Only the temple monks caused trouble, that
being their refusal to leave without logging a protest with
the Emissary himself.

The Emissary's Chief of Security managed to personally
escort Vedek Zil and Prylar Zehr'ha to the last shuttle
headed for Bajor. The elderly vedek had cited wishing to
remain in the temple, while Zehr'ha had asked to remain to
provide comfort to any that might be injured in the storm,
an interesting approach which Odo noted for future
reference. He was well aware of the young monk's intense
interest in Doctor Bahir, wondered if Bashir was aware of
it, but that was really none of his business. 

He duly recorded both their complaints for Sisko's later
perusal as well as explained to them that while the
approaching storm would create havoc with weather
patterns on the planet surface, it would still be infinitely
safer for them to be evacuated to Bajor than remaining on a
station whose shields were not certain to weather a storm
the size of the one approaching.  He informed them that,
per evacuation protocol, the only people staying were the
senior staff. And the foolhardy...

Odo knew precisely which group to count Garak and Quark
among, but he wisely did not tell the vedeks of this,
although he did intend to tell the tailor and bartender as
soon as he had seen the vedeks safely onto the shuttle.

Then he recalled that he still held Kira's thisk'a gift within
him. He did not have the time to present it to her and with
events progressing on the station, this was not the time. He
would have to leave it somewhere safe in the interim. 

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"You should really evacuate."

"As I told you, constable, I intend on remaining. Besides, I
don't think the Bajoran authorities would take too kindly to
a Cardassian, any Cardassian, seeking shelter in one of
their underground warrens," Garak sighed, taking another
sip of kanar.

"And I'm not leaving!" Quark insisted. "Running scared is
not my style. Rom and Nog can go if they wish  they did!
That's loyalty for you, though.  I've half a mind to dock
their entire week of pay for it. This bar is all we have and I
won't leave!  Besides, I don't trust anyone with its
safekeeping, even you."

Odo snorted at this and Garak lifted a brow, wondering
what private response the shapeshifter longed to give. 
Then he shrugged, his tone bemused, "Look at it this way,
constable. If Mr. Quark is immolated in his bar, that's one
less thing for you to concern yourself with."

"Yeah, that's right  hey!"

"A reassuring thought, Garak, I'll keep it in mind," Odo
quipped as the Ferengi scowled at the two of them.
"However, in all fairness, I must point out that if Quark's
bar is immolated, then so would the Promenade, including
your shop and you, since the atmosphere on the station
would, no doubt, be lost to the vacuum of space."

"Yes, but thanks to your shapeshifting nature, you would
remain snug as a bug in a rug as the good doctor said the
other day."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just a Human expression."

"Hew-mons! Always hiding their feelings in metaphors and
expressions."

"And what about your 285 Rules Of Acquisition, you don't
find that similarity between Ferengi and Humans
disturbing, Quark?"

"Hardly, the Rules of Acquisition are rules to live life by,
not to hide our feelings. Ferengi don't hide ourck, but the
particles the storm had gathered lashed visibility to a
staticky image at best. He tried to clarify the image but it
did not work.  Finally, he chose to ignore the movement
and made his way to the airlock. With a sure and gentle
hand, Smiley set the marauder ship down at Terok Nor.

"Our 'little surprises' are ready for transport, Ben."

"Go on, you know where they're going. I'm initiating the
scan, I want to bring her on board myself. Call it
a...courtesy." Sisko flashed a wicked grin as he pinpointed
the location of a very specific amount of pure platinum. It
did not take long. His console began to beep and he nodded
at Smiley. "Activate the transporter, Smiley, when you're
done with your placements."

"Just about. All right, now I'll haul her in. Okay, Ben, she's
on board."

"Activate the cargo bay shields."

"Done."

"Did you send the signal to Reg?"

"First thing.  Lewis and him are in place."

Sisko smiled wickedly and turned to his partner. "Then
shall we go welcome our guest on board, Mister O'Brien?"

"Right behind you, Mister Sisko."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Upon exiting the airlock, Odo had found the silent majesty
of space to be quite refreshing. It was incredibly beautiful
and he had taken a moment to observe the constellations
before assessing where to begin his patching job.  As he
did, he reflected that he had not often seen such beauty in
his life.

Thereupon he had set to with admirable discipline and it
had taken him a mere twenty minutes to attach the patch.
When he was almost done, the station had suddenly moved
beneath him, a gentle roll of motion. He frowned, looked
around, but saw nothing. 

Unfortunately, he had not chosen to wear the exo-suit. He
had no need for one, after all, except in order to
communicate, but he foresaw no need to do that. He
intended on welding, returning to the airlock and reporting
from there, but if he'd chosen to wear a suit, he would have
heard from the Major or Dax about the increased speed of
the storm which was now hitting from the opposing side of
the station...

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

On DS9, Kira turned worried eyes to the tired, young
engineering tech who had returned to Ops to help out as an
engineer in lieu of O'Brien.  She noted his weary fatigue,
but there was little she could do about it; she needed every
spare hand available.

"The leading edge of the storm is here. Did the constable
get back in?"

"Negative, Major."

"Dolan, get the transporter on-line," Kira ordered now, with
a frown. Dolan did so, wishing he had not worked a double
shift and been so weary that he had not heard the
evacuation order. He had come in response to the Major's
summons for all hands to report to duty stations and tiredly
tried now to focus on his console.

Dax turned to Kira now, hesitant. "Major, we can't
transport during an ion storm. Protocol states "

"That's Odo out there, Jadzia. I don't give a Cardassian fig
for protocol, we use what we need to use."

"Major, there's leakage from the airlock. We'll need to
cycle it down."

"But Odo won't be able to get back in," Dax argued. Kira
frowned at this new problem.

"Dolan, get a transporter lock on him," she decided.

"I'm not getting accurate readings, Major. There's either a
sensor echo or he's got two communicators."

"Damn! I didn't tell him to shut off his regular signal," Dax
fumed, angry at herself. Then she brightened. "Dolan lock
onto my commbadge signal!"

The young Bajoran did not question this, merely did as
ordered. "That's helping, the signal is clearer, but I still
can't get a pattern lock on him, sir, he appears to be, uh,
changing..."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

The constable turned back, heading for the airlock and the
safety of the station when an odd force suddenly moved
one of his legs. He glanced down and noted a swirling
particle stream, then looked behind him and was buffeted
by an unseen and powerful wind that made him lose his
grip on the welding kit. He frowned, as yet unconcerned,
since he still was within easy reach of the station.

Lengthening himself until he could grab the kit, he nearly
got his fingers on it, but as he watched, it twinkled in a
display of transporter energy and disappeared.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"...confirmed, Major.  I think the storm is causing Odo to
morph."

"Don't focus on the damn pattern, just lock onto his signal
and get him out of there!"

Dax ignored this barrage of anger, aware of Kira's
frustrated fear and feeling it herself. Her earlier sensation
of ugly premonition had returned with it and made her
fingers fly faster.  A sudden, violent shudder nearly made
her lose contact with the board, but she fought the storms
impact and pressed the controls.

"Energizing."

There was a hopeful communal breath held in Ops, which
was quickly released as the welding kit materialized onto
the transporter vestibule. The three looked at each other in
stunned implication. 

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"What is the meaning of this?!"

The Intendant had been in her office, studying a status
report when the unmistakable swirl of transporter energy
had deposited her in an unfamiliar cargo bay. Tapping her
communicator did not help, something was jamming her
transmission.

Then the doors slid open and Smiley stepped in, holding a
phazer at ready against her. Sisko followed, a wicked smile
on his dark face. He looked as handsome as ever.

"I need to thank you, Intendant," he said now, tapping her
customary platinum circlet with his index finger. "This
vanity band of yours was very easy to scan for and
somehow, I just knew you'd still be wearing it, even after
all this time. Can't give up those little indicators that tell all
and sundry you're the queen of Terok Nor, can you?"

Kira ignored this sarcasm. "You'll be executed, Ben. You
know that, don't you? No matter what scheme you have in
mind, once you're caught, even if you kill me, you will be
executed."

"Oh, I don't think so. No one even knows we're here. Or
that you're here, for that matter. No, all they'll know is the
storm came and went and seemingly took their Intendant
with it. Maybe they'll think the Prophets saw fit to drag you
to their celestial temple." Sisko and Smiley laughed at this,
while Kira scowled.

"Where are we?"

"Don't you recognize the ship you gave me, Intendant? I
really must thank you, she's served me well. Smiley keeps
her ship-shape."

"You'll be executed too, Tinkerer," she said now to
O'Brien. He merely smiled a tight-lipped smile.

"Maybe, but I'll have known the joy of taking you with me."

Her eyes narrowed and she turned back to Sisko. "What do
you intend with me?"

"That's up to Mister Garak, Intendant."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

The Major broke through her paralysis first, even as the
station shuddered again and again as the shields fought off
the storms impact.

"I hope he hasn't moved far from those coordinates. Keep
the lock on his communicator as long as you can, Dolan."

"Trying, sir. He's in a storm eddy right now, his readings
are starting to fluctuate."

"Try harder. Dax, get him out of there."

The Trill nodded and held her breath as she nodded at
Dolan beside her and together they pressed the transporter
levers. This time nothing at all appeared on the transporter
buffer.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

The airlock was still available, Odo thought, nodding to
himself, pleased at his calm despite the gravity of his
situation. It would not do to panic. It would not help
matters or get him back onto DS9. This thought in mind, he
began to stretch in the direction of the airlock as the odd
buffets of the storm began to push him. 

They actually helped his motion and he was at the airlock
faster than he'd expected, rapidly refashioning his normal
body in order to manipulate the hatch, but when he tried to
access it, he found it had been cycled down.  This meant a
static seal was in place which even his metamorphic nature
could not foil; he was stuck out here.

Frowning, he turned back and looked behind him again.
Particles of indistinct matter swirled around him in a
deadly energy display. They glanced and bounced off the
station shields, making distracting sparks of incredible
beauty. They were growing in intensity even as he watched
and considered his options.  They must surely be
attempting to obtain a pattern lock on me...but the use of
the transporter is prohibited during an ion storm...I wonder
why?

A large metallic particle glanced very close by. The airlock
inertial shields surged and repulsed the particle and Odo
away from the station, sending both into the charged region
of ionic energy that propelled this unusual spatial
phenomenon through space.  Odo had time to hope that the
Ops crew would see fit to ignore standing orders, to try and
beam him out of his alarming situation.  Then the
unprotected shapeshifter began to be buffetted by
incredible jolts of intense ionic energy that began to tear
through him like a knife through paper.  

The storm was here...

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

While events unfolded outside DS9, Julian Bashir was
assessing a nasty-looking hand encased in a sterilite field
on an Infirmary biobed with a grimace of distaste.

"However did you manage to burn your hand so badly,
Garak?"

The Cardassian sighed. A sudden tremor made the station
rock gently beneath Bashir's feet. Garak almost tilted off
the biobed. He arched his eyebrows expressively. The odd
jolts had begun a few minutes back, indicating better than
anything else, the magnitude of the storm outside.

"I had just completed clipping a measure of Rigellian
canvas in order to complete an order for some pants for
Mister Morn and I decided I'd best store my work, since the
tremors were making my seams extremely unsteady, but
when I opened my storage locker, a static charge caused a
rather untimely spark which surged into the sensor-lock.
The fabric caught fire. Have you ever seen Rigellian
canvas? It turns out to burn almost as fast as hair."

"I see." Bashir primly proceeded to cautiously protoplase
the wound as the station moved yet again, and added, "That
still doesn't tell me why you were wielding clippers at a
time like this. I'd hardly consider it appropriate. Rather
more costly, I'd think. Especially when one considers the
fabric is almost certainly ruined, if not by any blood stains
from accidentally cutting yourself, then by the crooked
seams you made."

"Doctor, normally my seams are as straight as a phaser
beam and I'll have you know that if I'd cut myself, I'd have
immediately placed my other hand beneath it to keep any
blood from spotting the fabric."

"That sounds like you, Garak, always thinking."

"Why, doctor, I think you've just come up with a suitable
epitaph for me!"

"I was being sarcastic, Garak. I can't believe you'd be so
concerned with a pair of trousers for Morn that you'd be
more concerned with getting your blood on them than with
the reason your blood was pouring forth in the first place."

"Why, doctor, this is only a small burn, a mere flesh
wound. I've had far worse, I assure you."

Bashir arched a brow at this, decided to say nothing. The
burn eschar was exceedingly deep, having burned through
not only skin, but two tendons and exposing a nerve cluster
which he knew was a particularly painful region of
Cardassian physiognomy. Despite this, the biobed display
showed only a minor elevation of heart rate and blood
pressure.

This worried Bashir a little, since the Cardassian had only
recently recovered from his lengthy addiction to a pleasure-
inducing device embedded in his brain. It was entirely
possible that he had turned to some other form of illicit
stimulant.

For his part, Garak sat and watched the doctor work on his
hand and thought furiously. What he had told the doctor
was true. What he had not told the doctor was that the
minor fire he had put out with his own hands had
completely immolated the box Odo had given him to take
care of. 

He could readily get another. He had just enough Garadiian
silk to fashion another scarf, but it meant he would have to
swallow the cost, which was exorbitant by most standards.
Then again, he had realized while making the scarf for the
constable in the first place that Odo had no other use for his
pay; he did not have quarters, did not eat, did not buy
clothing. He had years of accumulated pay from which the
latinum he had transferred to Garak's shop account was
probably a mere pittance, but it was enough to pay the
renewal fee for his station visa; he had needed that money! 

He sighed now and decided he would simply tell the
constable. While he did not like the thought of Odo's
displeasure, or worse, his disappointment, the damage to
his storeroom was still evident and maybe he would see
that it had all been an unfortunate mishap and be willing to
purchase another with his deepest apologies...?

The doctor noted this tired sigh and the Cardassian's
distracted appearance and frowned. He could be taking
lexivin...he thought, recalling the longtime Cardassian
recreational drug of choice. It suppressed the nervous
system and instilled pleasant feelings, but it also caused a
nervous fatigue. That could explain his working so late
despite the storm and his current tired, troubled
appearance.

Bashir made a decision, turned to retrieve a thermal kit.
While he did, he surreptitiously activated the biobed
toxicology scanners, telling himselfientific curiousity
in others customs and manner of existing.

While he could not suffer vacuum indefinitely, he had
assured her he could readily be outside the station for up to
an hour. He had, he informed her mysteriously, done so
before. Dax had wisely opted not to inquire. She took one
more look at Odo through the airlock, then smiled at the
sight of her glittering Starfleet communicator on his chest,
next to his customary Bajoran one.

She had insisted he wear it so they could keep a sensor lock
on him. The sensors could more easily scan for the stronger
signal from it; the Bajoran commbadge did not have as
powerful a range. He had grumbled a little, but conceded.
Now she stepped out of the airlock onto the Docking Ring.
She did not cycle it closed, since Odo would be returning
through it. 

For some odd reason, Jadzia suffered a sudden, irrational
sensation  like she should return to the airlock and look to
Odo, because she would not be seeing him again. This
made her frown and she did not act on this impression,
feeling as if it would make it reality. Instead, she
swallowed, turned and continued down the corridor, private
thoughts growing somber.  

Like the chief likes to say, constable; Godspeed you on
your way...and return you safe from your journey.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Garak watched outside Terok Nor as the familiar ship
loomed beside him while he worked on the strut. The
Terran rebels had returned, obviously intending trouble! 
This was fine, since he fully intended to thwart them in
whatever way he could. The storm was already swirling
about, but Cardassian support suits could withstand much
greater stress than the pitiful exo-suits the Klingons and
Bajorans favored for their ease of movement. Cardassians
weren't concerned with ease, they were concerned with
survival. Their suits came equipped with shields.

He activated his now and the roar outside him muffled to a
dull pitting sound. He made his way to the docking
connection, torch in hand since it would make a useful
weapon, and waited. His diboridium power pack held
enough charge for fourteen hours. He doubted the rebels
intended a stay that long. He intended to be there when
they tried to depart. He'd give them a surprise when he
opened a hole at the airlock as they tried to reboard...

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"Almost there, Ben."

"Looks good, Smiley, take us in nice and quiet."

Smiley nodded at the Captain and manuevered the ship
with great care as it approached the station. He had thought
they wnd pull it in. Her
voice was terse and flat.

"Wide beam, he may have floated away from those
coordinates."

"Major..."

"Later," she quipped tersely, completely unaware and
unmindful of whoever was speaking to her. They were a
nuisance she could dismiss, keeping her all-inclusive
attention focused on the most important task of her life.
"We only have one more chance... just hang on, Constable,
I'll get you out of there... NOW!"

Her calloused fingers pressed down so hard on the
transporter panel control screen that one of her already
short fingernails cracked with the pressure. Her eyes took
in the hopeful swirl of energy at the transporter hub and she
half-ordered, half-pleaded, "Re-route more power into the
pattern buffers... come on, come on!"

The transporter obediently materialized what it had latched
onto... a bipolar torch. It still sparked and spat static energy
from the ion storm that raged outside, jerking about the
transporter pad as if alive, but no constable had
materialized with it.

A ragged exhalation issued from the Major, a breath of
utter denial. She made no other sound and suddenly Ops
was oppressively silent, the only sound the click of
terminals controls being pressed and consoles making the
occasional beep.

Jadzia Dax was the only one who moved and it was toward
Kira, her eyes expressing what her voice did not. The
sorrow they held was monumental, but before she could put
a sympathetic arm around her friend's shoulders, Major
Kira Nerys turned sharply on her booted heels and stepped
firmly onto the turbolift and away from Ops without a
single word.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Garak watched events as best he could through the storm
and his flickering shields and considered his best course of
action. Then a particularly strong energy surge swept him
free of the airlock. 

To his frustration, he lost his grip on the bipolar torch. To
his horrified fascination, he watched it disappear in a
peculiar swirl of transporter energy as the Terran ship
pulled free of its moorings and began to back away from
Terok Nor.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Odo didn't notice the characteristic tingling of a transporter
beam; his world was pain. It felt like the ionic energy was
literally scouring him to dust. Involuntary shudders assailed
him and to his inner horror, part of the horrible howling
maelstrom that screamed around him was his own voice.
His cries of agony were shockingly loud in the small room
and stopped him instantly, although an occasional tingle of
residual energy along his sensitized body mass caused a
moan to escape him despite himself.

"Well, well. Looks like we have ourselves a bonus."

The voice sounded very far away and he shuddered as his
body cleared from the damaging effects of the ionic energy.
After a moment, he realized his back was firmly supported
by a cold, patterned metal surface. I must be at the Ops
transporter vestibule.

He opened his eyes which focused on Sisko's face and he
blinked with gratitude. Oh, I was beamed aboard the
runabout. He blinked again, just glad to be alive, regardless
of his locale.

To be fair, he acceded, he had volunteered to leave the
station right before the ion storm hit in order to patch the
outer hull. He had been the logical choice he thought now,
looking up at Sisko.

I shall never volunteer for that type of duty ever again, Odo
thought. His attempt to speak however, produced
inarticulate sounds and gasps and his attempt to sit up was
an equal failure, his shoulders merely spasmed and his
arms flopped. Odo finally gave up and lay staring up at the
Human's dark face. Why was Sisko looking at him so
peculiarly? he wondered. 

My features must be askew, he thought to himself, feeling
the peculiar tingles of energy slowly receding and grateful
that he would likely be able to fix that once he regained
control of his body again.

To his astonishment, O'Brien suddenly shifted into his
point of view. It wasn't the Operation Chief's face that
shocked him, it was the look of utter hatred and contempt
which filled it. His words were equally shocking and
dripped with icy indifference.

"I heard he was dead." O'Brien's eyes turned to the
commander, puzzled.

"Well, Smiley, looks like you might have heard wrong,"
Sisko responded with a broad smile. The Humans looked
down at Odo. He noticed now that neither wore their
uniform. He twisted his eyes around, since he could not
look about in a conventional manner. 

He noted that he was not on any runabout that he'd ever
seen, or any ship for that matter. Nor was he somewhere on
the station, Odo knew every crack and crevice of Deep
Space Nine. This place was filthy, oil and grime seemed to
cover what machinery he could see and even stained the
two men's suits. They didn't seem to notice, staring at him
intently. Now Sisko leaned in very close to him, a look of
fascination on his face. Where is Bashir? Or the
Lieutenant? I would appreciate a bit of medical attention.

"Well, Smiley, looks like the Supervisor will be learning a
bit about our brand of discipline," the commander said,
apparently talking to O'Brien, who simply scowled. The
burly Human leaned very close to Odo now until he could
feel his hot breath against his face as he spoke. His voice
was a low snarl of sound, ugly with implication. 

"Remember me, Supervisor?" 

The question made Odo frown, or try to; his face merely
contorted briefly and he gave up the attempt. Supervisor? 

The Human's lip curled contemptuously. "Go ahead, try and
deny it. I remember you. I think of you every time I pick up
a spanner." 

This said, O'Brien suddenly hefted a spanner and swung it
at Odo, striking him on the torso. Odo's eyes widened and
he felt a sudden, sharp and painful pressure, felt the laws of
physics lift his limbs in sympathetic response, then flop
down, but little else. He was utterly dumbfounded with the
Human's attitude. What's going on here? Why isn't Sisko
doing anything?

If anything, Sisko looked amused. He held up a hand and
O'Brien scowled again, spat in Odo's general direction and
stepped back. The dark Human knelt beside him and
reached down now, an intent expression on his face, then
Odo felt the fabric of his self-constructed shirt lifted, a
pulling sensation along his sides and hips and wondered
what Sisko intended. 

Normally, his body responded to the separation of cloth
from skin by dissolving his clothing and absorbing the thin
material which was actually part of his body mass,
reforming into the thin, rangy male Bajoran form he
maintained beneath his 'uniform'. He had maintained a
fairly passable body and dressed it for decades before being
able to form his body with clothing, so it was a natural
reversion. His body, however, was not currently
functioning in its normal manner, thanks to the storm. As
fate would have it, it was actually closer to humanoid in
function than it ever had been; his shirt and pants simply
peeled back like a humanoids would have. His 'body' was
on display now for both Humans.

Sisko's eyebrows lifted and he whistled as if in sincere
admiration. "I see what she see's in you, shapeshifter. Never
could before, I must admit."

He let the fabric go with a snapping sound which Odo
recognized as the waistband of his trousers. The
shapeshifter was no longer concerned, worried or upset
with the two men's behavior; he was indignant. O'Brien
looked satisfied at the flash of anger he'd noted in Odo's
face. 

"Looks like the Supervisor is a bit put out."

"I suppose we'd best stick him in the hold before he can
move again. That way we won't be having to keep an eye
on them since it's just the two of us this time out."

"Suits me." The engineer shrugged. "I'll give ye a hand,
Ben."

Ben? Odo frowned again, the expression coming easily
now but he didn't notice in his current bewildered state.
He'd never heard the Human engineer address anyone as
anything other than sir, ma'am, or by rank. The two bent in
close and he felt them as they hefted him up like an
ungainly sack of grain. They began to lug him down a dark
hallway he did not recognize.

"W..whrr... mmm I?" His voice was still muffled, but
basically understandable. Instead of answering, however,
the two Humans started to laugh.

"Always questions from you, Supervisor," Sisko grunted.
"Well, this time we decide if we want to answer or not." He
nodded at O'Brien who nodded back and they let him drop,
jarring him and causing the start of a throbbing headache.
He blinked to clear his head.

Sisko began to key an entryway, shielding the panel with
his body. Odo wouldn't have noticed in his bewildered rage
and offended sensibilities. He had always been a gentle
man, but if he were able to move, he would 

"My First rule of obedience is 'I'm the Captain here and the
Captain is always right'," Sisko suddenly said, turning
around to look down at him. He smiled wickedly at this and
added, "My second rule is 'if you think I'm wrong,
remember rule of obedience number one'. Got that,
Supervisor?" His voice dripped scorn, and he looked at
O'Brien. The two men laughed heartily.

"D...don...unn..stand," Odo mumbled as they lifted him
again, wondering why the two were treating him in this
unconscionable manner.

Sisko touched the entry mechanism with his elbow and the
hatch opened. To his chagrin, the two men heaved him
within as if he was that sack of grain he'd likened himself
to. He heard the hatch shut, then lock behind him as he was
still airborne.

With no bodily control, he fell heavily face down only
partly supported by a crate, arms and legs akimbo against
some other crates. He began to shake with rage and pain;
not physical pain, but emotional distress. What had he done
for them to treat him in this way? What was going on?
Where was he?

"Odo!"

That voice was unmistakable. Odo would recognize that
voice if he was struck blind and half-deaf; it was Kira
Nerys and he did not fight the surge of joyful hope that
filled him at the sound of it. She had always seemed to
understand him, to take the time to explain things, to be on
his side  surely she would be as outraged at this situation as
he was.

He tried to turn toward her, but his unwieldy body did not
respond correctly and he fell heavily from the crate he'd
collapsed on top of. Tumbling down helplessly, he landed
at her feet, face up.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Outside Terok Nor, Garak had been fortuitously thrown
clear in the wake of the Terran pirate ship, finding himself
hurled against the outer hull of the station, within meters of
another airlock. 

He heard and felt various bones giving way under the
stress, including several ribs, but fought to keep his grip on
the hull despite the pain. He managed to by the sheer force
of his anger; how dare those filthy Terrans renegades
invade his station!  He was not going to let the Intendant
explain this situation away, she'd nearly gotten him killed!

Making his pained way to the airlock, he carefully
clambored inside.  Once the airlock was safely pressurized,
he immediately alerted his security forces...before asking
for medical assistance.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Odo blinked.

It appeared to be Major Kira Nerys kneeling beside him. To
his surprise, she laid one hand against his cheek and began
to stroke his hair with the other, eyes filled with tears. To
his utter shock, she leaned in close and began to kiss him,
gently but thoroughly, even venturing to slip her tongue
partially in his mouth, sliding it along the inner surface of
his upper lip in sensuous welcome. It was the kiss of a
lover.

He blinked in helpless confusion as she smiled through her
tears, then began to kiss him again, far more thoroughly
and he began to wonder if he wasn't experiencing some
strangely terrible and wonderful dream. Or maybe I'm dead,
he thought dispassionately, wondering briefly if he ought
not be grateful about the afterlife he found himself in if he
was. She pulled back after a moment.

"Oh, Odo..." her voice was so passionately grateful, Odo
began to regret questioning this reality he found himself in.
Instead, he opened his mouth, then painfully began to form
words. It reminded him vividly of when he had been with
the Professor decades before, learning to shape sounds and
string those sounds into words, into meaning. He shook off
this mental image.

"W...whuh...h..hav..happ...un?" he managed to say, lifting
his head up in his concentration. He fell back heavily and
looked up at her helplessly again, blinking. The Major, he
abruptly realized, was not wearing anything he'd ever seen
her wear before.

She had on a dark grey outfit of leather and straps which
was torn here and there, as if someone had removed her
insignia and rank. The outfit did look like a uniform, he
thought. It almost looked Cardassian in design, something
Garak would create but with Bajoran styling. He frowned.

"Whuh...you weh...wearing?" he managed to ask, far more
clearly than before. He could almost move his jaw
normally now. It would seem the effects of the ionic energy
dissipated with time, for which he was grateful.

She looked down at herself and then sat back. Her eyes
held bewilderment and then realization and then...tears. To
his distress, she began to cry silently, tears sliding down her
cheek and onto her outfit, darkening the surface. 

"You aren't Odo, are you? She pulled back as if from
something that disgusted her, troubling him even more than
her previous display of affection had, and sniffed, adding,
"My Odo, I mean, the Supervisor of Terok Nor. You're
from her side, my counterpart's universe." 

The emphasis was unmistakable and Odo suddenly realized
what she had said. The alternate universe...of course!

He had read Major Kira's report regarding the unexpected
excursion she and Bashir had made into a it was his prerogative
as the station's physician to snoop, then turned to the task
of sealing the synthskin over the excavated eschar.

"I'm still the one that has to fix you up, Garak," he intoned
then in his usual manner to offset any suspicion. "I don't
particularly care to see another vicious and avoidable burn
like this on you again, so once I've cleared you, no more
tailoring. Understood?"

The Cardassian blinked and Bashir had the impression he
had not heard a word he had said. He wondered anew what
was troubling him and hoped it did not have anything to do
with illicit drugs. While it certainly would not be the first
time a patient had turned to illegal means to mitigate pain,
Garak was not just his patient; he was also his friend.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"What in the ten hells!?"

"What is it, Smiley?" Sisko glanced over his engineer's
shoulder.

"Looks like someone's by the airlock. Who'd be crazy
enough to be out of the station during an ion storm?"

"Maybe someone like us  an enterprising sort. Is he in
danger?"

"Any creature is in danger in the middle of an ion storm,
Ben."

"Good point. Let's try to get a transporter lock on them, see
if we can pull them in, Smiley."

"I'll need to do it manually, Ben, at the main transporter
console."

"Right behind you, Smiley."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Major Kira Nerys fought off panic and angry tears that
threatened to blur her vision even as she issued terse
commands through gritted teeth. "More power to the
pattern buffers, Mister!"

The frustrated assistant engineer struggled to do what his
superior officer wanted. Dolan wished that Chief O'Brien
was here rather than manning a runabout with the station
commander, observing and mapping the current ion storm
in order to warn any colonies in its path. Perhaps O'Brien
would have known how to perform a miracle. The young
Bajoran only knew that it was impossible for him to do so
and that because of it...his shaggy brown hair shook as he
looked up at Kira with sorrow and trepidation. His voice
was a whisper of sound. 

"Major, we lost him."

Dolan hadn't even finished his declaration when Kira Nerys
vaulted over her control board and onto the upper levelhers you, even on your side. What is he like in your
universe? Over here he is one of Bajor's foremost
theoretical exobiologists. Personally, I found him a
despicable bastard. That's why I protected Odo...my Odo, I
mean, when he killed him."

Odo looked away as a flood of emotions began to vie for
his attention and murmured, "I'd prefer discussing
something else."

She considered this. "It's just that I can tell his name
bothers you, even though you're not from this side. Still I
can understand why. Mora's original name for Odo...my
Odo, I mean, was degrading. And Odo despised him; it was
a sure way of getting him angry. You... or rather, your
counterpart used to talk about him sometimes... usually
after we'd make love."

Odo found himself turning away from her knowing eyes as
she finished with a shrug, "I suppose on your side it's a bit
different." 

He nodded, highly upset at what he was learning and about
his chances for returning, since, he had no idea where he
was any longer or how he had gotten there. I am well and
truly lost. His eyes revealed his distress and confusion.
Suddenly he felt her warm hand against his cheek. He
turned.

She knelt beside him now. With slow deliberation, she
stroked his cheek softly and he blinked. Her hand touching
him so familiarly had a certain rightness.

He blinked again, found himself explaining, "Mora was the
scientist who was assigned to me at the research center. I
left the center during the Occupation, by the Cardassian
empire. I went to work in the mines at first, then later on
the mining station, Terok Nor, as an investigator for the
Cardassians. I hadn't seen Mora until several months ago."

Kira absorbed this without comment, then smiled and
shook her head. He looked at her in inquiry and she
admitted, "I just realized, Odo might not even be your
name. For all I know on your side you took some other
name entirely." She stroked his cheek slowly.

Odo gently put his hand on hers, stilling the distracting
fingers he could feel against his cheek. He took her hand in
his own and placed it down between them. 

"My name is Odo," he told her quietly.

The Intendant looked at his hand, then up at him and
frowned with no small amount of amusement. "As in
odo'ital?" Her Cardassian was Bajoran-accented, but
perfectly inflected. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. 

"That's correct."

His eyes were full of long-suppressed memories as yet
unexpressed in any manner. He had never told anyone how
he got his name, but this Kira Nerys seemed to know all too
well about his past, his experiences. Then again this Kira
Nerys had obviously been his counterpart's...lover, the
thought filled him with a peculiar sensation. She and
another form of me...lovers, so it makes perfect sense she
would know things.

He forced his mind away from the sudden sense of
epiphany he was experiencing. He did not want to stop and
think things through, especially under these circumstances.
Odo hoped now that she wouldn't ask more of him than he
would be able to answer.

She withdrew her hand now and sat down beside him. Then
she asked him, "So you kept it?" A too-discerning, gentle
humor filled her voice.

He frowned and his tone dared her to comment on the
obvious. "Why do you care?"

She leaned her head back against the crate and considered
him briefly. Then ignoring his question, she merely said,
"So, you chose to keep the name...I suppose you would.
You're both the same type of men  proud, stubborn, strong.
And you don't really care what others think, do you?"

He looked down briefly, seeming almost ashamed, but he
responded. "I had my reasons."

She looked at him, then touched his face again. He let her.
"Just so long as you don't still think of yourself as 'nothing',
Odo."

At his startled look, she leaned close and kissed him, a
loving and sympathetic gesture that would have taken
Odo's breath away had he been a humanoid. As it was, he
felt a peculiar sensation ripple within his midsection.
Before he could speak or protest, she pulled back. Her
voice was quiet.

"His old name was one of the reasons my Odo killed Mora.
He rarely talked about it, but it was a sure way to anger
him. Some of the older Klingons used to call him Morpher,
the way Mora did, whenever they got drunk, but more often
they followed the Cardassians lead, thanks to my second-
in-command. Garak was the one that started calling him
odo'ital, even encouraged his men to do it until he became
the Supervisor in ore-processing."

Odo considered this. It figured, he thought dourly. He'd
tried to not give his name too much thought as time had
softened its meaning to him, but it seemed that in either
universe the Cardassians had found it just a joke at his
expense. 

"I think that it's a very nice name," she added now, softly,
her hand insistently turning him to face her. His eyes were
dark with resentment and she sighed, a bit sadly.

The Intendant leaned in then and gently kissed him. To
both their surprise, though, he responded this time. This
was partly due to his desire not to offend her, to
communicate his sense of gratitude for her understanding,
and partly from some unspoken, buried need within him
which he did not question. To his surprise, she pulled back
abruptly, a rueful expression on her face.

"Don't let it bother you so much, my friend." The Intendant
sat back, carefully putting and keeping space between
them, which he noted with interest.

Odo turned his attention to his legs now, carefully putting
space between his thoughts and his actions, just as the
Intendant had put space between them. He flexed his foot,
ignoring the now familiar residual tingles, and it responded
sluggishly, but it responded. He tried to bend a knee and it
did, if stiffly. Satisfied, he sat back and sighed, knowing
movement would eventually return.

"You've never been with that Kira, have you?" she suddenly
asked in a matter-of-fact way, as if inquiring about the
Kadderpod crop in Hedrikspool province or the weather in
Upper Fhaari.

"Been with?" Odo hedged, well aware of exactly what this
seemingly familiar Kira was speaking of.

"You and she. You aren't lovers." It wasn't a question and
he did not answer it. 

After a moment, she sighed and took his hand in hers again.
Odo did not pull free of her. He looked at her hands, noting
absently that they seemed a bit softer than the hands of the
Kira Nerys he knew. How different had their lives been, he
wondered.

"She's a bigger fool than I thought." 

Odo looked up at her in astonishment. She smiled at him
kindly, squeezed his hand reassuringly. Her tone seemed to
indicate she was aware how self-conscious he felt.

"Doesn't she know how much, how deeply you care?" 

His voice was dry as dust. "We've never discussed it."

Her own voice was quiet and unusually gentle. "You're very
alike, except you're not as angry a man. That's remarkable.
And very, very appealing..."

She leaned close to him again, then reached out and slowly
stroked his cheek, running her fingers up along his angular
face to stroke his hair. It was a disturbingly familiar
sensation to her, one she thought never to feel again.

For his part, Odo could not pull away; her touch eased a
pain so deeply entrenched within him he had thought it was
part of him. He found he also did not want to pull away.
The gentle caress of this Kira's fingers was order from
chaos. It provided a connection to the beating heart of the
universe which the proud and lonely shapeshifter had long
ago decided excluded him since he had no heart of his own.

He turned now to look into her eyes. They were
astonishingly familiar to him, dark and liquid brown, as
well as large and sad and vulnerable. Odo found himself
reaching up a hand to stroke her cheek, threading his
fingers through the fine red hair he knew so well and had
imagined touching so many times. Then he leaned in and
gently kissed her.

It was chaste and fleeting, but the few seconds it lasted
weren't much more than an eternity to Odo, who could feel
the universe spin about him and around them. He pulled
back, shaken.

Kira laughed breathlessly, delighted at the look in his eyes.
He looked at her inquiringly and she impulsively ruffled his
hair, laughing yet again, then said sincerely, "The Prophets
have let me surprise you twice in one lifetime, my friend.
I'm honored."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Garak slid off the biobed in the Infirmary of Terok Nor,
intent on getting to the office of the Intendant. He did not
intend to report, he had already done so and, in fact,
received report from the officer at Ops. 

The ion storm had apparently passed over Terok Nor with
only one major incident; the disappearance of Intendant
Kira Nerys. Given what Garak witnessed, it was clear she
had been taken by the Terran marauders during the cover of
the storm. The residual energy readings were useless, as
bad as trying to get readings in the Badlands, which was
doubtlessly where they'd fled. Alliance Intelligence had
reported the Terrans, led by the hateful Sisko, had several
hideouts within the inhospitable region.

They had left no note, no clues as to their intent, only the
empty office of the Intendant. This was what the
Cardassian was hurrying to see to. In Kira's absence, the
office was his. An office he would quickly situate himself
in and give every appearance of filling in during the
Intendant's untimely departure. 

He would issue the needed orders and do absolutely
nothing that deviated from proper procedure, not even
keeping the ships and troops conducting the search for the
Intendant down to a bare minimum, although he could. 
Garak was quite sure the Terrans would be issuing their
demands soon. 

He intended on making every appearance to be listening, to
be attentive and concerned, but the Alliance would expect
him to take a firm stand and not give in to Terran demands;
it would set a bad example for the allied worlds.  This was
unfortunate in that it would mean the demise of Kira Nerys,
but then, she was a member of the Alliance and well
understood the politics of the situation, the Cardassian
mused with satisfaction. 

She had also long understood, Garak knew, that in the end
he intended to be the one in charge of Terok Nor...no
matter what.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

The death chant for the Constable lasted two hours and
Kira did not stop until it was completed, ignoring the
occasional unnerving jolt caused by the ion storm which
shook the station beneath her knees and the fact that she
had completed a similar ceremony less than a day ago.
However, that time she had not known any of the people
she was singing for personally, nor had she been singing
alone. 

A Bajoran cleric, be they Prylar or Vedek, would normally
have presided and sung the cyclic portions of the chant,
allowing her occasions of rest, but there was no one but the
same staff on board that had been there when the storm hit.
The same ships that had evacuated had not yet returned to
the station. There were no other Bajorans aboard, aside
from Dolan whose presence was not desired by the Major
currently, so there was only her to sing.

Normally a devout Bajoran wouldn't have extended such a
gesture of honor to a non-Bajoran, no matter how close
they had been, but there was no one to reprimand her for
her actions, not that she would have listened.  Kira had
never considered herself to be devout; a believer, yes, but
not zealous. Thoughts of her actions impropriety never
entered her mind either.  She did not think what she was
doing was in any way improper. 

The Cardassians had found the constable adrift in a
damaged ship in the Denorios Belt and had brought him to
Bajor.  There a Bajoran had raised him, instructed him and
he had both witnessed and suffered the horrors of the
Cardassian Occupation firsthand.  He had been counted in
the Bajoran annual census; so for all accounts and
purposes, he was a Bajoran citizen.

The Major had never considered how close she had been to
the Chief of Security, either. She only knew she had to do
this. It was entirely appropriate; the Constable not only
deserved it, it was just, and there was no one else to do it
for him so she would, no matter what it cost her.

Kira had yet to say or even think his name; she could not.
Her voice was barely audible by the time she rasped out the
last cyclic lines of the death chant. The silence in the
temple was stunning to her, making a muffled, roaring
sound in her ears. She swallowed in a dry and ravaged
throat, ignoring the pang of inflamed and tender tissue. The
sound was loud in the chamber.

She wasn't sure what else to do now; usually a monk or
Vedek took charge at this point, preparing the body,
consoling the family or friends, ready with ancient words
from the Prophets, helpful and kind. She had tried to
contact Bareil at his monastery, but communications were
apparently still out on Bajor, because all her attempts had
been fruitless. 

Bareil, she knew, would have come, would have helped her
do this. He would have understood, and he would have held
her now in her empty despair. Instead, only a dull silent
emptiness filled the chamber now, and a numbing sense of
despair filled Kira. She drew in a deep breath which caught
due to the unexpected pain it caused her, then a cool hand
squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. It was so serenely done
that the Major realized the hand must have been there for a
long time, unfelt until now. 

She drew in another breath, more carefully this time,
forcing all emotions into her center, deep within her belly
which threatened to cramp from a lack of food and water,
having missed several meals due to the previous death
chant, then the ion storm preparations and yet another due
to 

Harsh pain lanced at her again in recollection. This pain,
however, she could use; the discomfort giving her focus,
emotional stability. Thus, surface-calm, at least, Kira
turned to find the sad, tear-filled eyes of Jadzia Dax
looking down on her where she stood beside the bench Kira
was crouched on. The Trill opened her mouth to speak then
shook her head; tears slipped free from her eyes to slide
down her chen alternate reality
after their return from the colony on New Bajor in the
Gamma Quadrant. A damaged warp nacelle and the
wormhole had apparently shunted the two into an alternate
reality which seemed for the most part to be a dark
alternate universe inhabited with their mirror opposites.

Kira's report had only mentioned an ore-processing plant
overseer who appeared to be him and she had not
elaborated. Odo had not bothered to read Bashir's report,
written as it was in the man's eloquent, long-winded style;
Odo disliked wasting time, but now thought maybe he
should have.

How did I get here, he mused now. No matter which
universe he and Kira Nerys shared, they seemed to be of
the same mind.

"How did you get here?" she asked him evenly now, wiping
at her eyes and getting down to business in the familiar
manner which Odo knew well.

"D..don't know." 

He tried to sit up. His arms responded, slowly and
unevenly, and then to his surprise, she immediately came to
his side and helped him sit up, leaning him against the
crates. She seemed oddly diffident now, at odds with her
previous familiarity, then she suddenly shrugged, smiling at
him with a wry expression. 

"Silly to feel shy, since in any universe we're probably good
friends, old lovers." At his look of surprise, she explained,
"I was very close to the Supervisor... your counterpart over
here, just as you're probably close to the Kira Nerys on your
side."

She settled back on her haunches, now, close to him. When
he continued to look at her in something akin to shock, she
added, "How is she? My twin?"

Odo found he could not speak, not from any resultant
damage from the ion storm, but due to the sudden dry
sensation in his mouth. He considered his answer briefly,
then said roughly, "Fine. The Major is fine."

"The 'Major', eh? Did you two have a falling out? Or are
you as formal as ever, even in between the covers?" Se
disturbed you."

"You would go on your own then, ignore your order and the
people here that need you?"

Bareil turned away, hiding the flash of anger as best he
could. As a senior advisor and the leader of one of the
largest orders, she could not readily oppose him. As Kai, he
could not oppose her; he had to do what she asked and give
it his best. He would do no less since it was what the
Prophets had decreed.  This knowledge did not make times
like this one any easier. Nerys needed him, he could sense
it, but he had not even been able to contact her by
subspace.

He sighed.  "I will do as you ask, your Eminence."

"Then see to your order, of course, Vedek. See to the
people of your province. After that, please make it your
first priority to establish contact with Legate Turrel and
convey my personal hope that the storm did not damage
Cardassia Prime."

Bareil turned back to the Kai. "I will do as you wish."

"I know you will, Bareil. I know you strive to follow the
will of the Prophets," she said, almost kindly, then added,
"Please rest assured that I will be contacting the station as
soon as communications are restored.  I will inquire as to
the well-being of the station crew. If there is anything
amiss, I will surely let you know."

The vedek's eyes did not leave hers as he bowed his head,
but they held no gratitude as he spoke.

"You are...kind, your Eminence."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

After Odo reformed from his second rest period in this
alternate reality, he spent time considering yet again his
situation: the doors to the cargo bay never opened, even to
allow the intendant use of toilet facilities or to feed her.
Boxes of rations had been provided and a foot-high
extension toilet was built into a corner of the cargo bay, its
contents continually sluicing away to the small, but
powerful recycling unit on board.

For the constable, it was the only way out of the electrified
bay and one he would not take. It was not out of any sense
of propriety or disgust, but legitimately due to the fact that
he was unaware of what types of chemicals the pirates used
in their recycler.  There were some substances which could
damage his cellular structure so he preferred to wait until a
more propitious escape route availed itself.

On the positive side, he was now fully functional, if
somewhat apprehensive over what was to be done with him
and troubled by how to return to where he belonged, if
indeed he could. He was also more than a little concerned
with his slowly burgeoning relationship with Kira. 

The Intendant, he reminded himself yet again. It was too
easy to fall into the trap of believing this to be 'his' Kira.
She was not;  her manner of walking and her too-easy way
of touching him reminded him if nothing else.  He had only
just avoided a physical tryst with her on the first day of his
arrival and he knew it. Worse, she knew it and thereafter
kept a careful amount of distance between them.

She whiled her time playing endless games of Bajoran
kagaaht with the dried cadderpod beans she had saved from
one of the few meal rations she had eaten and a game
surface she had scratched into one of the crates in the bay. 
Kagaaht was an intricate game, easily played by one or up
to twelve opponents and a game lasted two hours.  Since
his last rest period, the Intendant had eaten a ration bar,
napped, used the facilities  under cover of a cargo canvas-
and had started another game of kagaaht, not asking him to
join her, but then, neither did Odo find much interest in
Kagaaht.

He wondered now about her reticence toward him, despite
her obvious attraction, even if it was only because he
resembled her previous lover.  She rarely spoke, but her
eyes followed his every move, although she stayed by her
crate. This scrutiny made him more than a touch
uncomfortable. It was bad enough being trapped in this
tiresome cargo bay without being monitored in a manner
which recalled to him the bleak years at the Bajoran Center
for Science.

Worse, having to revert to his gelatinous state without
benefit of a container, right in front of the attentive eyes of
the Intendant, was acutely disconcerting to him. She had
said nothing at all and it was only after reforming from his
second rest period that he had belatedly realized that she
must have witnessed this with 'her' Odo many times.

The circumstances which had transpired between his
counterpart and this Kira caused him a very peculiar
feeling deep within which he did not analyze or try to think
about overly much. He sat now on an empty cargo box and
studiously began to consider his options once more. The
ion storm had...

Suddenly, the entire ship was jolted. The Intendant
frowned, worried, but Odo recognized the sensation.
"We've touched down somewhere." 

He stood up and looked about fruitlessly. It was frustrating
to be stuck in the cargo bay as if they were so much
equipment to be ferried about!  Her tone echoed the worry
of his thoughts.

"I wonder where we've landed?"

"It's been about thirty-four hours since I arrived," Odo
essayed, continuing thoughtfully, "if we are still in the
Alpha Sector, we might be near Ultima Thule or Lapolis
system, the only ones which are approximately one day's
distance and not in Cardassian space. If they've gone
through the wormhole though, then we could be in any one
of half-a-dozen areas of which I am familiar or somewhere
of which I'm completely unaware."

"Wormhole?" The Intendant sat up now, "My twin also
mentioned a wormhole. What wormhole?"

Odo locked stricken eyes on her; he had read the Major's
report and she had clearly indicated these people were
unaware of the wormhole. How much could he say? 

"There are spatial distortions within the Denorios Belt. It is
theorized there could be a wormhole."

"You said the wormhole so obviously there must be one."

Odo sighed.  "In my universe, there is one. It was probed
and appeared to deposit approximately 75,000 light years
away in an uncharted sector." This was as much of the
obscured truth as he was comfortable with conveying. She
sensed his mood though, and turned her attention to the
hatch.

"I wonder if they're going to let us " Before she could finish
her statement, the familiar whine of a transporter beam
sounded and the tingle of transporter energy suffused them
both.

Odo found himself materializing within a seemingly
familiar cave structure, the Intendant beside him. A stack
of rations, a crate and some water also materialized. They
waited, but nothing else appeared. Then a shrill
communication signal sounded from his commbadge. 

He tapped it and asked without pause, "Where have you left
us and for how long?" The responding voice was obviously
O'Brien's, despite the tinny quality, but it provided no
answer. 

It was three hours after Odo had left the Intendant and he
had wandered far afield, but was now slowly returning to
their beam-down site. Whatever else might be different
between universes this asteroid was the same, although
there was no sign of the probe casing which had held
Yareth, the daughter of Croden, the Rakhari criminal he
had helped in his own universe.

So long ago... and another thing I never told Kira about,
Odo's thoughts clamped shut at this regret. He did not know
if he was permanently trapped in this alternate reality, at
least not yet. It would not help matters to allow emotions to
cloud his logic. 

He knelt at the site where the probe casing had been in his
universe and touched the bare rock.  Tiny ice crystals had
formed and he watched with fascination as they rapidly
melted with the warmth of his fingertips. He recalled how
he had done the same with snowflakes in the outer bailey
of the Bajoran Center for Science countless years ago.
When he'd first seen snow fall from the sky from the
window of the chemlab, he had been entranced, fascinated.

When he'd finally been given the chance to go outside, to
feel them falling weightlessly on his face and arms, the
experience had given him an indescribable feeling of awe
and the stark beauty of ice crystals still possessed the
ability to fill him with wonder. This momentary and
uncharacteristally pleasant introspection was interrupted by
the sound of his commbadge.

"Kira to... Odo." 

Static filled the line, but did not entirely hide the odd
quality to the Intendant's voice. He frowned as he tapped
his commbadge. 

"Odo here, go ahead." To his surprise, he noted a wisp of
fog issue from his mouth along with his words; the
temperature must have dropped considerably.  

Her voice sounded weak and somewhat faint through the
interference. "Could you... return? ...need you." 

"What is the matter?" 

He waited, but there was no answer to his hail and the
drops on his fingertips turned into a smear that moistened
his palm as he drew his hand into a fist, stood and stalked
off in the direction of the beam-down site.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Garak despised having to rely on Terrans, yet it seemed his
bain to be surrounded by them, all working in some
capacity or other. These two were particularly irritating, but
after O'Brien's defection, the Intendant's request for a new
technician had garnered them two...both Terran.

Barclay spoke first, being the more talkative of the two. He
was an innocuous-looking, but competent theta-class slave
born of theta-class parents without ambition to do anything
but work with machinery.  His mild looks belied a
somewhat haughty bearing, something many theta-class
slaves were prone to.

"I've studied this thing seven ways to next week, Mister
Garak, I can't do anything. It was beamed in directly to the
intermix capacitors, so shutting off the shield would affect
the intermix balance and blow up the station. Beaming it
out would affect the intermix balance, which would blow
up the station, too. Dumping the entire core might work,
but it would still blow up as soon as it exited the station
and that would "

"Damage the station and irradiate Bajor," finished his less
talkative partner, Lewis Zimmerman. In contrast to
Barclay, Zimmerman was a somewhat reserved, if attentive
man, stemming from his rather unusual beta-class pleasure
slave background, but despite this, or maybe because of it,
he had risen to theta-class status thanks to his incredible
skill with his hands.

Garak fumed with impotent rage. "I absolutely refuse to
give in to those renegades demands! Find some way to get
this device off the station!"

"I just don't see how that's possible, sir," Barclay insisted.

"Find a way," Garak ordered angrily. "Your lives depend on
it. Am I making myself clear?"

Barclay and Zimmerman both nodded. Unsatisfied, but
unable to do more, the Cardassian angrily stalked out of the
engine room.  Once he was gone, the two Terrans smiled
knowingly...

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"As I have very little in the way of possessions and less still
in the way of land and property, what I bequeath is my
accumulated salaries for which I have had little use." 

Odo's quiet, gravelly voice made Kira swallow as she
watched the small, flat viewscreen image of him from the
comm panel in her room. She paused the message, took a
breath and pushed back her feelings in order to concentrate
better. 

She had held the computer rod and turned it over and over
in her hands before even attempting to listen to it. She was
still stunned that the constable would have chosen her to
oversee his personal affairs, but then once she thought it
through it made perfect sense to her; there was no one else.
He had no close friends she was aware of. The only person
she could think of that he might know well enough to ask
such a favor of was Mora Pol, the Professor who had
visited the station several months back, but the constable
had completed his Last Testament recently and chosen her
as his executor.

She made a mental note now to contact the Professor and
inform him of the constable's death. It was not an easy job,
she conceded, but she would do it because Odo had
requested it of her. He had not made many requests of her
and none of a personal nature. She had always been the one
to make requests of him, both professional and personal.
She felt she owed him at least one or two now and turned
back to the viewscreen, reactivating it.

"I know you will use it well, Major. My only request is that
you apportion some of it to set up a fund for the war
orphans, that they may use to procure blankets, clothing
and the like."

Kira's eyes filled but she did not blink as she listened to this
calm, unhurried behest, watched Odo's bland, unlined and
painfully familiar face looking at her from the small
viewscreen.

What did you think, Odo? she wondered now, her hand
reaching out to trace the familiar contours of his face on
the viewscreen. What did you feel when the storm hit? Was
it painful? Or did it take you quickly? Did you call out? Did
you ask for help? Or did you just wait for the Prophets to
take you?

The Major recalled that Odo had no set faith, no rituals that
he followed, nor could she remember his ever asking for
help of any kind. He did not, she knew, believe in the
Prophets. What would his people have done? If she ever
encountered them and told them of Odo, what would they
consider appropriate ceremony? She had no idea.

Found by the Cardassians, he'd been raised on an occupied
world by scientists who did everything except recognize the
bleak, unproductive and solitary life he was living amidst
them.  He'd been used by the Cardassians for his inherent
skills and abandoned to the Federation who rather
reluctantly had allowed him to remain in the only job he
knew. 

In fact, he'd been allowed to remain only after the repeated
and vehement appeals which she had personally made to
the Provisional Government finally garnered response and
only then, Kira suspected, because they had grown weary
of listening to her.  They had not expressed any particular
desire for Odo to remain. In fact, they had expressed their
fear and a disturbingly laconic hostility toward the
shapeshifter. 

Fear and hostility was what Odo had been dealt most of his
life, the Major thought now. Sensing this from the start,
Kira had always tried to make him feel how special he was
to her, she had taken his hand from time to time to show
him she did not fear him. She had even hugged him a
couple of times, she recalled now with a smile of
reminiscence. He had not reciprocated either time as she
recalled, even though theeks, dripping onto her blue science uniform.

"Thanks." Kira's voice was nearly inaudible and Jadzia
tilted her head for clarification. "Thanks for coming. I think
the constable would have appreciated it."

Dax was aware the Major was exhausted and filled to
bursting with unexpressed grief. She was about to sit beside
her when Kira held up a hand and shook her head. Her
meaning was obvious, so Dax merely whispered, "I'll be
going. But you know where to find me if you need
anything, Major."

Kira stood at this, holding herself ramrod straight and with
a look in her eye reminiscent of the proud and battle-
hardened soldier the Starfleet officer had come to know.
Her posture fooled neither of them, but the Major allowed
herself the luxury of a deception that harmed no one but
herself. 

"Thank you, Dax." 

Jadzia looked troubled at the dismissing tone in Kira's
voice, but she nodded, stepping quietly out of the chamber,
and the Major was alone in the temple.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

The storm had disrupted more than communications on
Bajor, it had caused devastatingly massive wind and
lightning storms, despite the atmospheric shielding,
creating havoc and panic among the populace.

After the storm had passed, Bareil had made his way to
Winn's office and sought an audience.  She had granted one
with alacrity, but his request to her was of a personal
nature.  

"It is not so much I ask, your Eminence."

"You seek to answer a call of your own, not of the
Prophets, Vedek," Winn responded calmly.  After such a
horrific storm, surely a vedek would seek to help as many
of his people as he could, not attend to his own affairs,
wouldn't he?

"I feel the need for my presence, your Eminence. Someone
needs my guidance, my help."

"Many here need our help and our support after this storm,
Bareil. Surely you see that?"

"I see it was futile to come here. I should not have
disturbed you."

"You would go on your own then, ignore your order and the
people here that need you?"

Bareil turned away, hiding the flash of anger as best he
could. As a senior advisor and the leader of one of the
largest orders, she could not readily oppose him. As Kai, he
could not oppose her; he had to do what she asked and give
it his best. He would do no less since it was what the
Prophets had decreed.  This knowledge did not make times
like this one any easier. Nerys needed him, he could sense
it, but he had not even been able to contact her by
subspace.

He sighed.  "I will do as you ask, your Eminence."

"Then see to your order, of course, Vedek. See to the
people of your province. After that, please make it your
first priority to establish contact with Legate Turrel and
convey my personal hope that the storm did not damage
Cardassia Prime."

Bareil turned back to the Kai. "I will do as you wish."

"I know you will, Bareil. I know you strive to follow the
will of the Prophets," she said, almost kindly, then added,
"Please rest assured that I will be contacting the station as
soon as communications are restent and for that self-same moment, he feared she
had been transported back without him and that he had
been abandoned on the asteroid by the pirates.  Considering
his ability to survive without need of food or water, he
could be alone on this cold rock for a long time indeed.
Then he noticed the bundle of sacking material next to the
ration box and water containers.  

Hurrying forward, he noted Kira was the bundle; frost had
collected on her eyebrows and upper lip. With alarm he
noted she was not shivering in response to the cold, only a
faint tremble occasionally coursed down her limbs. He
knelt beside her.

"...back...knew you'd " Her eyes were almost closed, her
words a mere hiss of sound and he noted no fog issued
from her lips although it should have.

Internal temperature drop, a potentially fatal problem in
humanoids...Odo quickly turned from her to the box,
hoping some method of starting a fire had been included,
although he concluded with a frown, there wasn't anything
to burn on this rock. Besides, that would have been one of
the first things she would have tried, wouldn't it? He chided
himself yet again that this Kira and the one he had known
were two different women.

"Nothing. Not...not..." Her voice was faint and he shushed
her.

"Conserve your energy," he ordered firmly and she did not
protest, in fact her eyes closed shut.  The shapeshifter did
not know if this was a worrisome development or not; his
Kira would have argued, despite her grave condition. He
did not know if this Kira was in the habit of acquiescing so
promptly, but he somehow doubted it. Looking about one
more time he made a swift decision.

Odo took a deep breath. The breath was no more necessary
than any of the humanoid functions he emulated, but it
helped him focus on his proposed transformation. Within
moments, he was swaddled about the form of the chilled
Intendant, a warm and living gelatinous cocoon.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"This is Mora Pol, to whom am I speaking?"

"Doctor Mora, this is Major Kira Nerys, from Deep Space
Nine. I need to speak with you."

The doctor studied the image on his comm panel
viewscreen. He recalled her from his visit to the station.
Her hair had gotten even shorter than he remembered and
he pursed his lips. 

"Yes, of course, Major. I remember you from when I
visited the station several months back. You are one of
Odo's friends, are you not?"

"I am honored to be considered that, yes."

An intense uneasiness washed over Mora Pol. His fingers
gripped his chair and he felt his stomach clench as he
swallowed. His voice was almost absent.  "He's been killed,
hasn't he?"

The Major inclined her head, both affirmation and a
gesture of respect. Her voice was flat with her repression of
emotion. "I'm sorry to have taken so long to inform you, but
the storm disrupted communication."

Mora blinked and blinked, then managed to whisper, "What
happened? When?"

"He got trapped outside the station during the recent ion
storm, Professor."

Mora was aghast. "What was he doing outside the station?"

"He went out to weld a patch onto the outer hull of the
Docking Ring. The storm moved in faster than expected,
the hull shields were activated due to the particle density
increase, and he couldn't use the airlock.  I'm afraid I
couldn't save him...the transporter wasn't successful at
locking onto him. I tried. I tried everything I could think
of." Her voice faltered, but she managed to regain her
composure.

Mora's anger and accusations melted away at the sight of
her remorse.  He nodded at her. "My thanks, Major, for
informing me."

She nodded and was about to terminate their connection,
military-correct, when he lifted a hand. She waited.

"Please tell me, did he...did he leave anything for me?  Not
objects, but a journal, perhaps?  Letters?  Anything of the
sort?"

Kira considered this for a moment or two, then slowly
shook her head. "I was named his executor. He made some
station logs this last year, but I didn't see any personal logs.
I haven't gone through his effects yet though, Professor. I'll
let you know if I find any journals or letters."

"Thank you, Major. I'd appreciate that."  She nodded at him
and this time he let her disconnect their transmission. 

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

O'Brien met his wife and daughter at the airlock on the
Docking Ring. He was glad to see them, since he'd been
unable to wish them farewell before the sudden evacuation.
He was especially glad to see them again in light of all that
had happened during the storm.

"Good God, I've missed you both!" He hugged the two most
important people in his life to him tightly. Keiko returned
his tight embrace, Molly merely fussing a little about being
suffocated. He pulled back, then kissed Keiko with feeling.
She responded in kind. Again it was Molly who tugged
their sleeves and separated them.

When he pulled back, the look in his eyes made Keiko
frown. "Something's happened, Miles, what is it?"

"We lost someone during the storm."

"Oh, no. Who was it?"

O'Brien's brows met in a frown, as if still baffled, still
disbelieving. "The constable."

"Odo? How did he ?"

"He volunteered to weld a patch onto the outer hull before
the storm came. I was going to do that myself and I would
have been the one out there if the Commander hadn't asked
me to go with him to warn the colonies and map the
storm," he admitted, shaking his head sadly.

"But...how did he...I mean, he's not humanoid. What
happened?"

Miles flinched a bit, but took Molly into his arms and
managed to start the trio walking toward their quarters. 
"The storm came in faster than expected.  According to
Dax he wasn't wearing an exo-suit.  He got caught in it and
there was no way to get him, but they tried."

Keiko inhaled at this awful image. She had suffered various
ion storms in her years aboard the Enterprise and knew the
destructive force they held. It was one of the more horrific
ways to die that she could imagine; adrift alone, beyond
help, beyond hope...

"I'm sure he's in the hands of the gods," she said sadly.  Her
husband frowned and considered this. 

He hadn't had too many conversations with Odo, most
taking place since the constable had assisted him and his
wife during his incarceration on Cardassia Prime.  After
this, Keiko had invited him to dinner repeatedly, which he
had politely declined, but she did not give up.  After two
weeks of her cordially incessant requests being rebuffed,
Miles had impulsively decided to ask him along on one of
their family picnics in the holosuite.  To both his and
Keiko's surprise, the shapeshifter had actually agreed to
attend.  More surprising was their discovery that the
constable was quite at ease with Molly, or rather more to
the point, Molly was quite at ease with him.

Their normally taciturn daughter had sat beside the equally
taciturn constable, on a picnic table beside a view of the
Grand Canyon where she proceeded to hold a quiet
conversation with him, asking endless questions:  where
did he like to picnic? where did he go visit on the
holosuite? what did he do for fun? Daddy reads those, too,
what else do you read? Would you read something to me?

All these questions Odo had patiently answered, but never
once had she asked about his odd appearance. O'Brien
figured his daughter's overexposure to aliens, first on the
starship and now on the station had made her something of
a cosmopolitan child. In fact, Molly had sidled right next to
the startled constable, practically in his lap after he'd called
up a children's story PADD from the computer.

Slightly ill at ease at first, he quickly warmed to his task
and had read her three stories. To Miles amusement, Odo's
unfamiliarity with Earth fairy tales and his innate
inquisitiveness had infused his narration with an
unconscious eagerness which had communicated itself to
Molly. She had listened attentively, despite the fact she had
heard the stories a dozen times. In fact, she still asked if
"uncle" Odo would come read to her some bed times... 

Despite all this though, Miles realized now that his
daughter probably knew more about the constable than he
himself did. What did he like?  Dislike?  Did he even
follow a religion?  O'Brien shrugged.

"Well, I know he was found in the Denorios belt, and the
Cardassians left him on Bajor. He was raised there. The
Major performed the death chant for him before we came
back, so I guess he might have followed their beliefs," he
said now, adding, "I don't rightly know."

"I still remember that first week we were here, when he
helped me find Molly on the Promenade," Keiko recalled
sadly. "The station was under attack by the Cardassians and
everyone was rushing by and I was scared she'd get
trampled, but he shouted out in Bajoran. I remember it was
the first time I'd heard anyone speaking rapid-fire Bajoran;
it sounded so strange that way!  Then he found her and
brought her to me himself, safe and sound."

She smiled at this and hugged Molly to her tightly now.
O'Brien shook his head sadly, wondering if his daughter
would understand when he had to explain that she would
not see "uncle" Odo anymore.

"I know what you mean. I still remember him coming to
Cardassia to help me when they put me on trial."

"Oh, I hate thinking about that time, it was awful!"

"Yeah, but I'll always be grateful to him for standing by me,
by both of us. He brought your messages to me while I was
being held."

"And he explained everything to me on the runabout while
Commander Sisko flew us to Cardassia Prime. He didn't
dissemble either, but told me what to expect. It was pretty
accurate, actually...oh, Miles!" Keiko turned to her husband
then and without another word he slid his arms around her,
hugging her and his daughter to him closely.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

While a few of the evacuation ships had returned to DS9
and ships were again being allowed to dock, most were still
recovering from the effects of the storm or had gone
elsewhere. Despite the still-tranquil Promenade, however,
Kira's appearance created more disturbance than she
realized in her detached state.

A hush fell inside Quark's Bar where Quark, Garak, Morn
and Jake Sisko watched her from inside the bar.  Benjamin
Sisko watched her unnoticed from the upper level of the
Promenade as she made her way toward what had been
Odo's sanctuary. The Commander merely sighed as he
noted her destination and he turned back down the
Promenade toward the stairwell, still unnoticed by those
below.

Kira stepped decisively to the Security Office, unaware she
was also being watched by Julian Bashir from the entry of
the Infirmary. The doctor found himself observing her
clinically from his vantage point; the Major appeared pale
and drawn, not aesthetic on her already slender form, but
otherwise she appeared healthy to him, considering how
deeply felt was her obvious grief.

His dark eyes creased with his own heartfelt sorrow
momentarily. Odo had been skeptical of his overtures of
friendship from their initial meeting, doubtless stemming
from a rather unhappy past history with other doctors and
scientists. 

It had troubled Julian to imagine how cold and lonely Odo's
earlier life must have been; he had read Mora's papers
extensively after arriving, his intent medical in nature.  He
had wanted to be sure he knew what he could about the
constable in case he was required to treat him.  What he
read had been disturbing; even after the Bajorans
discovered he was a sentient life form, thanks to the
Cardassians, Odo had remained confined, unable to come
and go as he pleased, every action monitored, every
reaction gauged. The sensitive Doctor scowled darkly,
unaware.

_Rest assured, Odo, that had I been in charge of your care,
things would have been quite different._ Julian swallowed
heavily and dropped his head with regret as he recalled that
the man he was making promises to no longer had need of
them. This filled him with a sense of futile anger and an
irrevocable despair.

"Well, Odo, wherever you are, I hope you're resting.  You
deserve a good one."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

After a bout of coughing the Intendant roused from her
cold-induced stupor, shivering violently despite the tightly
snugged and unformed mass of Odo which encased her
completely except for her nose and mouth. This created an
odd, not-unpleasant internalized sensation within him, but
this he gamely ignored, listening instead to her chattering
teeth.

She's cold...a good sign. She might be able to maintain her
internal temperature soon, as he thought this, a sudden
inhalation of breath made him pause expectantly.

She did not release it immediately, nor did she move and
for a moment he feared she had succumbed to the frigid
temperature despite his efforts. Then a massive sneeze
shook both of them. He could sense her eyelids trying to
open and he eased himself back from her eyes and cheeks,
curling into a hood framing her face. Short puffs of breath
escaped her and her voice trembled with cold.

"...Odo?"

He was inordinately pleased she remembered him; it boded
well for her recovery, indicating she was not disoriented
with fever or oxygen-deprivation. Still, he did not wish to
pull free of her until she warmed up more nor did he wish
to possibly frighten her by revealing his cuy had been alone, but she had
known he had not really minded as much as he had tried to
assert.

Kira had loved that about him most of all; his fierce reserve
coupled with his utter lack of guile; as she had told him
once, he had no pretense. He had no need of it in his
emotional makeup, despite his mercurial physical nature.

Still, had she ever just said  I'm glad you're my friend ? Did
he even know she thought of him as a friend? Her closest
friend? Had she ever told him how much she trusted him?
How she rarely trusted anyone and he had earned not just
her trust, but her respect? Did she let him know how
important his presence was in her life? How much she
valued his uniqueness and enjoyed his company?

"No," she whispered in answer, sighing as the image of
Odo continued speaking, much as he had been, unheard for
the last few moments. "Computer, stop message."  _If I
keep doing this, it'll take me all night to listen to his words
and I owe it to him to listen... for this last time._

She took a deep breath, swallowed. After a moment, she
cleared her throat and ordered, "Computer, replay Last
Testament from the start."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"According to Lewis, you've got them running scared, Ben."

"Yes, well that won't mean all that much, Smiley, if they
figure out where it is we go when we 'disappear', this
wormhole is the answer to our prayers. Once we get our
hands on those ships, we can build a true army, our own
Alliance, ferry more of us through and hide out. We can
strike at will and take what we need! Eventually we'll blow
up that damn Cardassian monstrosity, send the lizards back
to their homeworld."

"We will, Ben. Someday."

"How long until our next transmission?"

"About nine hours."

"I'm going to the back, then...catch a nap. Call me if
anything happens."

"I'm not expecting anything to. Listen, Ben?" Sisko turned
back to O'Brien and lifted an eyebrow. Smiley considered
his words with care.  "I know she's just a ruse to get what
we need for the rebellion, but we are going to take her
back, aren't we? I mean, we won't just leave her with that
shapeshifter on that asteroid?"

"Worried about Kira, Smiley? I didn't know you were
interested in her."

"I'm not, at least not that way. I just don't care much for
killing women, even Bajoran ones. Look, Cardassians and
Klingons are one thing, but the Bajorans were slaves once
just like us.  I'd feel funny leaving her there."

Sisko eyed his friend and considered this, then shrugged.
"If it really bothers you so much, Smiley, when our
demands are met we'll take her from there, leave her and
the Supervisor somewhere nicer, okay?"

O'Brien swallowed, not satisfied, but not wanting to get on
hough when Starfleet had arrived in
the form of Sisko, the Human Commander had disliked the
idea of his not actually wearing an issued communicator,
citing that if Odo was injured in some fashion, he might not
be able to maintain his form and therefore a transporter
lock would not be successful.

The constable, she remembered, had reluctantly concurred,
but she privately believed he rarely, if ever, wore the
device. A thunk! on the floor confirmed her beliefs as a
deactivated Bajoran-issue communicator fell from the folds
of the cloth and bounced into the corner. Smiling at this,
she bent to pick it up, then froze, her smile disappearing.

In the shadows of that corner, on the floor, was the only
item in the universe which was uniquely Odo's  a standard
plasteel utility bucket.  The detachable handles typical of
such pails were long gone.  Setting down the other items
carefully, Kira crouched down and picked the pail up. 

It felt incredibly light to her, inconsequential, although it
had held the body of her closest friend within its confines
for...how many years?  She studied the pail now, unaware
tears were slowly running down her cheeks.  She wondered
how many years her friend had slept in this bucket, in a
room like this or in some dark corner, isolated from anyone
of his kind, feeling utterly friendless and alone.

The Major suddenly found she could not move any further
nor straighten to leave the room. She cradled Odo's pail,
holding it close as she slowly sank onto the floor in the
corner of the compartment.  Without preamble, Kira Nerys
began to weep, all her bottled pain finally uncorking.

Kira cried hard, curling herself around Odo's bucket,
hugging it as tightly as if it were it's absent occupant, not
bothering to stifle the helpless sounds she made, oblivious
to the fact that her tears were falling within the pail's
shadowed depths.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Garak sneered. The damnable Terrans had contacted him
as promised...by way of a stinking, skinny, filthy ore-
processing slave who stood before him now in the office at
Ops. He had broken free of ranks in the processing plant,
informed the gaurds he had an urgent message for Garak
that he would not want to miss. Given the circumstances,
they had escorted him to Ops.

Now he smiled, a rakish expression on him, opened his
mouth and began reciting, "Per Captain Sisko, no
transmissions have been monitored from Terok Nor
regarding our agreed-upon goods for transfer. To express
his displeasure, you will find a little incentive on the
Promenade. He'll contact you again in thirteen hours which
should give you time to wonder where else we beamed
other devices in."

To the Cardassian's dismay, almost immediately after this
recital, the slave disappeared in a twinkle of transporter
energy. Then an alarm sounded from Ops. Rushing out, his
Klingon warrant officer informed him the Assay office on
the Promenade had suffered an explosion. Sisko had mined
the station!

With gritted teeth and a sinking feeling of resentful dismay,
Garak ordered an immediate level-one sweep of the station,
as well as a trace on the transporter. Then he stalked off to
engineering to check on the progress of the two Terran
technicians, shaking with fury...and fear.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

It had taken some fancy maneuvers to fly in close enough
to be able to decloak for transport, then recloak and move
on out of weapons range. The Intendant hadn't chosen
Sisko as the leader of her tribute-gathering band for
nothing. Now the small pirate ship was headed back to the
Badlands through their circuitous route, while Barclay and
Zimmerman kept doing their work on the station.

"Prime work, kid." Sisko smiled at Bashir from the seat of
the cloaked pirate ship. "Smiley, take us to Base One so
Julian can grab a bath...or ten."

He looked at the grimy Bashir and shook his head in
amusement; it looked like half-a-dozen water sonics
wouldn't even begin to touch that layer of grime. Julian
sneered.

"Yes, well, I should charge you for having to work in that
hellhole..again. Now, I trust we have our hostage?" His
dark eyes gleamed with avarice and not a little lust; Bashir
had often spoken in great detail of what he would like to do
to the Intendant of Terok Nor if he ever got his hands on
her.

"In fact, we have two."

"What?"

"The supervisor.  The shapeshifter?  He was outside the
station in the storm so we beamed him aboard."

"That's crazy!"

"He was out there, so that means something funny's been
going on for a few months.  After all this time, the only
thing I can think is maybe the council hired him directly
and he's doing undercover work for them.  It even worried
me until I realized that since I have him where he can't do
anything, our plans should go on just like they're supposed
to." Sisko turned back to his console and added softly,
"nothing's going to stop me this time."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

With some trepidation, Odo began to pull free of the
Intendant. She no longer shivered or sneezed and he was
gratified to find her sleeping lightly as he reformed into his
customary shape beside her. 

He noted she pulled the sacking material tighter about her
now, though. It was obviously still quite cold to her. On
this thought, her eyes opened. She smiled tiredly at him and
he blinked. He was about to inquire as to how she felt when
she startled him by speaking bluntly in a cracking voice.

"Don't do that anymore."

Uneasily, Odo asked, "What?"

Her eyes would not meet his now. "Don't...cover me like
that. It's not right." 

"It was the only thing I could think of to do in order to
preserve your life," he admitted with a sigh; he did not
really wish to spend their days on this asteroid as a blanket,
but still...

"Just don't do it again." 

He hunkered down next to her, forcing her to look at him.
His gaze was earnest. "Should I allow you to freeze to
death? And if you do, what do you suppose Sisko and his
crew would do to me?"

She looked faintly surprised at this, but to his gratitude, she
nodded. "You're right."

"I'm glad you understand." 

He began to stand, when she grabbed his elbow. "I still
don't want you to do that again. And that's final." 

"It's still lethally cold.  What am I supposed to do?  There's
nothing combustible to burn for heat. There's "

She let his arm go, silenced him with a gesture, then to his
surprise, she suddenly moved aside and pulled back the
sacking material.  Her intent was obvious; she wanted him
to join her.  His eyes widened.

"It's cold, Odo. I don't want you wrapped around me like
some sort of...shroud. But we do need to share our warmth
since there's no fire." This reasonable proclamation only
made him blink and she added with a shiver, "Hurry up, it's
cold!"

With great reserve and not a little trepidation, he found
himself cautiously stepping into the sacking and sitting
down. To his consternation, she pulled the sacking around
them both and wrapped her arms around his torso, resting
her head on his shoulder, tangling her legs with his.

He sat frozen not from cold, but from dismay as the
Intendant snuggled closer yet, linking her hands so that he
could not extricate himself from her embrace. She
murmured her appreciation. "...mmm, that's better. You're
so warm."

This abruptly reminded Odo of the first time 'his' Kira had
embraced him, nearly two years ago. She had also
mentioned how warm he had felt to her.  Professor Mora
had also mentioned to him that he was several degrees
warmer than most Bajorans. Bajorans are three or four
degrees cooler than Humans who tend to hover around 98
degrees or was it 99? he reminded himself. So my
temperature is--

"So snuggly..." The Intendant sighed contentedly, somehow
managing to press even closer against him than before. Odo
sighed, too, if in resignation, and tried to make his mind a
blank.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"According to the Klingons, no other devices have been
discovered, but I haven't called off the search," Garak
informed the two technicians. "That renegade is a crafty
son of a bitch. Now I want to know if you've made any
progress or do I start evacuating Terok Nor?"

"We might be able to work something out using an
alternating shield resonator," Zimmerman said now.
"However, the only thing capable of generating a shield
with a high enough resonance to be of any use is the warp
coil assembly on a Klingon bird-of-prey. You don't happen
to know where one of those would be, I suppose?"

"Any more sarcasm, Terran, and you'll be floating to your
homeworld," Garak murmured in a deadly undertone. "I
can order one of the patrol vessels in."

"Two would be better," Barclay interjected. Garak shot him
a suspicious look and he explained, "That way if things
don't work, it can hold a transporter lock on the entire
warp-core and beam it far enough away from the station so
it won't damage it." 

Zimmerman nodded. "I agree."

Garak did not like the thought of having to resort to
dumping the engine core. It would mean a great deal of
expense, which the Alliance would require endless
justification for, not to mention hold against him unless he
allocated personal funds for it. Still, if it worked, then he
could truthfully state it was a necessary thing, but did these
two Terrans really know what they were doing?

He hated having to rely on these two Terrans; he felt it
would be the downfall of the Alliance to allow Terrans to
continue attending manual work.  The current council felt
it allowed the member worlds time to devote to more
important pursuits, but it backfired at times like these. He
scowled and made his choice.

"I'll order two vessels in and you can coordinate with their
crew," he told them. Then he narrowed his eyes and added,
"If this works, you will both want for nothing. If it doesn't,
you will find yourself floating home out the nearest airlock
by my own hand. Clear?"

Both spoke in unison. "Yes, sir."

Garak stalked out of engineering. Zimmerman turned to
Barclay and gave him a tight, meaningful little smile.
Things seemed to be going better than planned...

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

The Major was sleeping in the dark corner of the
compartment that served as Odo's room when a lean
shadow suddenly blocked the shaft of light from the
hallway beyond, waking her. For a painfully shocking
moment, Kira thought it was Odo. Then Jake Sisko leaned
in and she noted the springy black hair and earnest dark
eyes.

"Major? Are you all right? You've been in here a while and
I thought...well, maybe you needed some help," he
admitted.

Her arms were still around Odo's bucket, which she
carefully set aside, then stood, stretched. She picked it up
before Jake could retrieve it; for some reason she did not
wish to part with it, even momentarily. "Thank you, Jake. I
guess I fell asleep. I didn't sleep very well last night, not
after doing the death chant again."

The boy smiled at this, a warm and earnest smile that made
her respond in kind. "I heard you sing part of it during the
ceremony for the colonists. I didn't hear the whole thing, I
kind of had to leave..." he shrugged, half-apologetic, half
what-can-I-say-I'm-just-a-kid, then added, "What I heard
sounded nice, although I don't understand too much
Bajoran. I'm sure Odo would have thought it was nice of
you to sing for him, too, Major."

Kira's smile dimmed only slightly. "Thank you, Jake. I don't
know if he would or not, but it's all I could do for him...so I
did."

"Sure."

"Well." She looked around, then suddenly was grateful for
his sturdy and helpful presence. "Would you like to help
me carry these things to my quarters, Jake?"

The youth brightened immediately. "Sure. I'll take this
stuff." He indicated the pail she still held and added, "You
can take that bucket if you like."

Considering how tightly she was holding onto it she was
surprised he had not made further comment, merely
offering to allow her the honor of carrying it. She smiled. 
"I would like that very much, Jake."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

Zimmerman permitted himself a tight-lipped little smile as
he strode through the bird-of-prey to the engine room. He
paced his steps, knowing that even now, Barclay was doing
the same thing on the other ship. He looked about, shook
his head in admiration at the harsh, utilitarian, but solidly
built construction. Now this was a ship! 

Then he pulled his scanner and studied it as he entered the
engine room, as if considering whether this would serve his
needs; only two life signs in the room and eight more in the
entire ship, he noted.  This was typical Klingon mentality
of 'less means more'. A fat, burly Klingon approached him
now. Obviously Chief gauge-watcher, Lewis thought
sardonically.

He set down his equipment box and nodded at the wary
Klingon, saying automatically, "Zimmerman, one-seven-
three-eight Theta."

Chief gauge-watcher nodded. "Very good. You have the
permission of TaGH to use our machinery. If anything is
damaged, you will be killed."

Zimmerman nodded in his turn, opened the equipment box,
pulled out a phaser and evaporated TaGH with one blast.
The second Klingon engineer ran up at the sound and was
as quickly evaporated without alarm having been raised. 

Lewis shook his head. Klingons! They preferred to check
things out for themselves, hardly ever raising any alarm. 
Still it was for this reason that Sisko had known his
secondary plan would work if the first did not, and the first
had been a mere red herring. 

He pulled free a panel now and substituted a computer rod,
then activated the cargo transporters. A high-pitched whine
rrent capacity as
blanket/cocoon. So he maintained his silent status and
listened to her breathing as it grew deeper and slower and
waited for the cold to dissipate...or her slumber to end.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

The small storage space set into the hallway between the
station Security Office and the holding area was little more
than a glorified closet; tiny, cramped, dark and musty-
smelling. The Cardassians had permitted Odo the use of the
space after he accepted their job offer of station
investigator and as he preferred not to share a community-
quarter lodging on the Habitat Ring, Odo had converted it
into a private compartment.

As the access hatch to the compartment slid aside, allowing
her entrance, Kira found herself looking about the tiny
space with despair-filled eyes.  Despite recalling that Odo
did not have a sense of smell, the dank odor of the place
depressed her.  No sentient being should live in a place like
this, she thought, noting the hatch did not even lock,
wondering if the Cardassians had not permitted it and if
Odo had simply not bothered to obtain one once they had
left.  No one would even give the compartment a second
look, she concluded now, noting a single, dusty shelf with a
bundle in its recessed shadows.  The rest of the space was
too dark to assess; there was no light fixture.

Something glittered on the single shelf as the Major
stepped inside and she reached up and pulled it forward. It
appeared to be a chain with a pendant attached. Kira
brought it off the shelf and perused it. She tried to open
what she thought was a clasp and to her surprise, the
pendant transformed into what looked like a key. As she
watched, it flattened back onto itself, once again a flat
pendant on a simple chain.

Kira wondered where Odo had gotten this item since it was
obviously some clue to his past. It probably came with him
in that spacecraft he said he was found in, she mused.

The questions about his origin struck her full force now and
her eyes grew sad and bleak as she realized her friend
would never have the answers he had sought his entire life.
Swallowing away these thoughts, she looked further back
into the depths of the shelf. A dusty folded bit of material
was back there and she pulled it forward.

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she recognized the
coarsely woven suit she had first seen Odo wearing when
th he struggled to maintain a sense of composure as one
hand caressed his back and ran through his hair, and the
other rubbed along his thigh then insinuated itself at the
juncture where his legs met and which anatomy was,
beneath that surface of uniform-self, entirely Bajoran in all
aspects of its construction, being modeled after one of
Mora's less-modest research assistants.

That presumptuous and highly distracting hand seemed to
be quite knowledgeable of that particular aspect of male
anatomy, Odo judged in a dazed and disoriented state. Her
hand slid up beneath his uniform shirt and grazed the
smooth, nearly frictionless 'skin' of his main body mass
now, sending pulses of immensely pleasurable sensation
through him.

His surface was exquisitely sensitive to touch, far more
than even a typical humanoids. Doctor Mora had once told
him his perception to the stimulus of touch was as sensitive
as a humanoid's eye.  The clothes he'd learned to form were
thickly structured, protecting him from the typical contact
he could expect day-to-day. They did not, however, protect
him from this type of current invasive onslaught, especially
when the Intendant maneuvered her way *beneath* them.

The constable swallowed at the odd sensations which
began to course through him as her mouth rediscovered
him and her tongue sought the moist warmth of his. 

"Kira..." he murmured in protest, privately surprised at the
thickness, the huskiness of his voice. He blinked, then
amended, "Intendant "

"Odo..." she responded breathlessly, pushing her hand
deeper beneath his uniform top, thrilling at the liquid heat
underneath.

As she managed to tent his 'shirt', his body automatically
released the fabric's structure, absorbing it into his main
mass and leaving him seemingly bare to the waist. This was
an involuntary reaction to the separation of the thin surface
sheet of what was really a part of him. Feeling the smooth,
wiry torso he maintained beneath his uniform tunic, Kira
pulled back to look in his eyes, one hand still stroking his
hair. Odo was dazed; coherent thought was difficult at this
moment.

"We both know how we feel," the Intendant said with soft
certainty, "Don't waste what time we don't have, Odo."

"I'm not your Odo," he insisted huskily.

He trembled uncontrollably, finding it somewhat difficult
to maintain his outer form. He drew in a breath,
concentrated. He looked at her evenly then, no longer
trembling. Her eyes grew softer still at this and sad. She
nodded then.

"I know that. Don't you think I know that? It's you I want,
Odo. And you want *her*, don't deny it. I know you want
this." He said nothing and the Intendant pressed on, "If you
can't go back to your universe, what happens then?"

Odo found his voice once more and shook his head. "If this
is your price for helping me return--"

Her eyes flashed angrily and he swallowed at how much
like his own fiery Major this woman resembled for a
moment. It also proved to him her sincerity in this
situation. Her tone was fierce. 

"I help who I want and not for favors. What I had with your
counterpart wasn't about favors. It wasn't about power or
money or anything you or Garak or anyone else might want
to intimate."

She stopped briefly and the familiar sad expression filled
her eyes and he found himself hard-pressed not to touch her
face. She placed her hand on his chest and he let her. 

"Odo...your counterpart and I had each other because I
knew the secret heart of him, the same one you have, and
because with me he wasn't afraid to show it. I loved his
strength and courage, even his arrogance."

Odo did not know what to say. He was not sure he should
say anything at all. Nothing in his past had prepared him
for this. The Intendant smiled tearfully. 

"Prophets save me, I think I could love you, too. You're just
as strong as he is without the arrogance he had to develop.
You have a gentleness he couldn't allow himself to display.
And even if I can never have him back...I want to touch
that part of him again. The part that both of you share."

With this she took a deep breath, then leaned in and kissed
him again, deeply, her tears falling down and mingling
against their faces. After a moment she pulled back and
watched him, obviously afraid. He blinked at her, rendered
speechless, and her voice trembled with a depth of fear that
astonished him.

"If that's not enough for you..."

Odo looked into her dark brown eyes now. He knew these
eyes well, knew them in all their passions, except those
privately expressed; but these were another Kira's eyes and
another Kira's passions. They did not belong to the woman
whose affection he had always felt unworthy of receiving,
despite the breadth of his own growing desire for her. He
felt more than a touch of desire for this woman, as well, he
admitted to himself now, feeling a flame of shameful heat
burn through him, making him swallow.

What was it about Kira Nerys that managed to draw forth
the deepest truths buried within him? Odo wondered. But
this woman is not my 'Kira', Odo reminded himself, then
froze in sudden recollection, reminded himself, neither is
the Major. Whether I return or do not, she is not mine. She
made her choice. Even if I return again there is only a
remote chance that... he shut off this train of thought. It was
beginning to sound too much like justification.  He
considered his situation and sighed, unaware his eyes
revealed every salient reflection. He gazed back at the
Intendant now and swallowed. _What shall I do? What do I
want?_ 

For a moment he feared he had spoken out loud as Kira
smiled, reached out and cupped his face. Her whisper was
husky and knowing, making him swallow again,
"Considering how difficult things are, I wish you wouldn't
fight yourself, too."

Then she kissed him. Her lips were soft and cool and moist,
Odo noted absently and she kissed him again, a soft
welcome or perhaps it was a tender farewell. When she
pulled back, she merely gazed at him, her dark and oh-so-
familiar eyes brimming with barely repressed desire and for
the second time since his arrival, Odo harbored the thought,
_I am well and truly lost._

This concern, however, seemed unimportant in the clamor
of other thoughts and feelings which demanded he
surrender to them and then, to both their surprise, he
slipped his arms around her and pulled her back to him,
daring to accept her words and their intent without
question. Daring to discover for himself what passions this
woman held which he did not know about. Daring to
experience them for himself...even if it damned him in his
own eyes.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

As Sisko laughed helplessly while Barclay and Zimmerman
related their exploits to him in the Badlands, Garak
executed a dozen Terrans in Engineering at random. 

He did not bother with airlocks or agonizers or even
explanation. He merely set his disruptor on its highest
setting and ordered the Klingon gaurds to stand out of his
way. They did so with impressive alacrity. Then he made
his way back to Ops, ordering Terrans at random to be
taken and hung on the Promenade as spies, their bodies to
remain for three days. 

Somewhat calmer as he stepped off the lift onto Ops where
the office he'd been working for still waited, he surveyed
his troops. Only one made him scowl and in a final fit of
pique, he ordered the two lift guards to toss the hapless
Cardassian junior officer at the long-range sensor station
out the nearest airlock. The poor fellow stammered the
entire way as he was lifted off his booted feet and carried
onto the lift.

Then Garak stalked into his office and considered his
options for almost an hour. Having mitigated his initial
rage at his monumental and humiliating blunder, he began
to chide himself for not thinking things through in the first
place. He had been operating on the outskirts for so long,
he had not yet begun to think like the Intendant of Terok
Nor. This was not his fault. Better, it was easily remedied.
It started with Kira Nerys, who was doubtlessly dead. If she
was, then she did not need her account.

Contacting Bajor, he appropriated funds from her account
on his authority as Intendant pro tem. With this, he ordered
a new warp core for Terok Nor from Cardassia Prime,
which would take about fifty-two hours. The galor-class
ship that would be needed to bring it could readily beam
out the other, discorporate it harmlessly and then beam in
the new one before the imbalance caused a destructive
situation. This would leave them almost a full day to spare
on the countdown.

Thus decided, he called in the three closest Klingon vessels
in to the station; while the warp core was on its way,
perhaps even while it was being installed, Garak intended
on waging all-out war against every last Terran pirate that
made their home in the Badlands...starting with the
damnable Sisko. 

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

On a nameless asteroid in the Chamra Vortex, the
Intendant sighed heavily, tucking herself closer into the
hollow of Odo's shoulder, even as he slowly caressed her
cheek, her silky hair. Without thinking, he gathered her
closer still, shaken by the enormity of what he had allowed
to occur. 

_But would I change events if I could?_ he asked himself
with his typically candid assessment, _if it means the
difference in my return, if it damns me in the eyes of
whatever universal gods there are?_  He looked down at the
soft red hair that had haunted his dreams for longer than he
dared admit and acceded, _No, I suppose not._

"Odo?" 

She had not moved back, so he simply nodded, unwilling to
speak just yet. Kira sensed his acquiescence, though, so she
continued in a cautious, measured tone, "I'll help you get
back, you know. I mean, if you still want to return...if
there's a way."

Abruptly awash with painfully conflicting feelings, he
found himself saying in a quiet, accusing tone, "Now that
you've had what you wanted, you mean?"

To his surprise, she didn't stiffen or reply angrily. Kira
shook her head against him and to his astonishment, he
realized she was laughing softly. He pulled back and tipped
her head. Two dark and merry eyes met his and she put up
a hand by way of apologizing.
"Sorry. You are so much like him at times." With this
enigmatic statement, the Intendant promptly sobered,
looking evenly at Odo as she touched his face and chest,
adding, "and so very different at others."

He stilled the hand on his chest with his own. "I fail to
comprehend what you're implying."

"You're not mad at me, you're mad at you," she said bluntly.
"And I meant what I said as a compliment." He frowned at
this, so she explained honestly, "I don't give up my lovers
without resistance, Odo, and I've never given up a generous
and proficient one before."

This said, she sighed, looked at him with a regretful
expression, then suddenly pulled him to her with her free
hand to kiss him with a slow, relentless thoroughness that
left Odo shaken. After a moment, he forgot all about his
confusion as other considerations took precedence...

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Commander Benjamin Sisko was trying to think of words
to say in regards to the constable for the ceremony
tomorrow. Silently, he watched through his office doors at
Ops as Major Kira stepped onto the turbolift and dropped
out of sight. 

Probably lunch...he mused, then turned his thoughts back to
a proper memorial, however, no words came to mind.
Instead he found himself thinking of incidents, events,
missions, some with fondness, others with regret over how
things could have been different. Of all his officers, Odo
was the one he understood the least, although he had tried
to make him feel less...vulnerable in his position.

It hadn't been easy either. Starfleet wasn't particularly
happy with him being Chief of Security for the station. His
unknown background and motivations, his work for the
Cardassians coupled with his chip-on-the-shoulder attitude
and lack of team-spirit had not endeared him to Starfleet
Commmand. Jadzia's voice interrupted Sisko's thoughts.

"Benjamin, I think you need to see this." 

Sisko switched off his console and stepped onto Ops. 
"What is, Dax?"

"I'm not sure. It could be a message, but it's pretty badly
garbled. The storm, I think."

"Is it from beyond Klaestron?"

"No, from Klaestron itself, I think."

"Get a reading, where is the storm now?"

She rapidly tapped in the sequence into her science-station,
then frowned. "That's funny..."

"What?"

"I should be reading it near Mariah system, but it's nowhere
near there. It's by Ultima Thule."

"Calculate new course based on last known trajectory."

"Working...it seems to be headed back."

"Back to Klaestron?" He frowned, empathizing with the
inhabitants there.

"No, it's headed back to Bajor, Benjamin."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Major Kira had gone to the Replimat for lunch much as she
had for the last two years, but this time her eyes weren't
able to look away from the Security Office as she walked
past. She could just see Sergeant Dorin Elk, late of the
Bajoran Military Academy through the doorway, the
current Chief until some Starfleet officer could step in to
replace the constable.

As if we could ever replace Odo! Kira snorted derisively as
she retrieved a tray of the daily special from the replicator.

"Major!" The shout startled Kira into nearly dropping her
tray of food. 

"Major..." Quark fell into step beside her, out of breath. He
wheezed, "I'm so glad to see you." 

Kira snorted derisively. "I'll bet." She found a table by the
edge of the Replimat that seated only one, requiring Quark
to stand beside her.

He took a breath, explaining, "You haven't come to the bar
since... well, I haven't seen you in a while and I "

"Get to the point, Quark, or else you will be wearing this
tray," Kira intoned evenly, annoyed at his presence,
irritated that he had managed to remind her yet again of
Odo's death and disgusted at herself for sounded, then vanished. All the Klingons on board were
now particles of beamed matter, swirling about the outside
of their ship. 

It should please them, Zimmerman thought with a sigh,
they all entered their Black Fleet with honor. He pressed
the touchplate of the comm panel. His tone was pithy and
ripe with sarcasm.

"This is the Bluebird of Happy News, Great Bird. Our nest
appears to be feathered."

Barclay responded just as quickly, less sardonically.
"Bluebird, this is the Great Bird of the Galaxy. Message
understood. After we cloak our wings, I suggest we take
flight."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

With no small amount of apprehension, Odo reformed into
his customary shape, hampered somewhat by the sacking
he and Kira were encased in and the fact that she had fallen
asleep against him, so that now one arm lay across his
central mass and the other rested within it. 

He considered his situation now with a touch of dismay;
while he had managed to reform, it was with mixed results.
He found himself partially seated and face to face with the
sleeping Intendant, one of her arms behind his back, the
other hand carelessly draped between his legs. He shifted
slightly, but this wedged her errant hand deeper and he was
constrained to search beneath the sacking, take her hand in
his and begin to move it aside.

"Hello."

The drowsy, provocative voice gave him pause and Odo
found himself looking directly into two very familiar, large
brown eyes. The Intendant smiled at him guilelessly and
then, to his surprise, moved closer and began to kiss him. It
was a surprisingly natural gesture, one it was obvious she
had enacted many times with his counterpart.

Her kisses were soft, gentle, rousing caresses, begun on his
lips and spreading from there across the highly sensitive
surface of his face and neck. All coherent thought escaped
Odo for several moments as he felt this too-familiar Kira's
soft and pliant lips grazing his own, lightly skimming his
cheek, then enveloping an earlobe. Her teeth gently tugged
on it and her tongue begantended on taking
over Prophet's Landing, the Bajoran colony closest to
Cardassia, and installing it as their main base. Alas, this
was not to be.

Before all the Terran rebels from one of their base camps
could be beamed to their newly captured birds-of-prey,
three heavy Klingon cruisers uncloaked as they entered the
Badlands. They had done so partly because they were
unable to maintain the energy-intensive device within the
plasma fields, but mostly, Sisko knew, because of the
statement such a gesture made. It had to be Garak!

The warships immediately began a fierce and merciless
onslaught. Their two new birds-of-prey were almost
useless. Unable to fly cloaked in the Badlands either, and
thus as vulnerable as any other ship, their crews were also
piloted by inexperienced, if tenacious rebels. Their only
chance was to flee at top speed, cloak once free of the
Badlands and keep running.

Sisko had ordered them all to escape, to make their way to
safer space. In this case, it was either to Breen territory
where the non-allied friendly race would protect them as
best they could or through the wormhole in the Denorios
Belt. He did not stop to see if they made it or not. He had
his own war to wage and he was outgunned from the start.
His only advantage was in his piloting skill and his smaller,
more maneuverable ship.

He plunged deeper into the Badlands, seemingly flying
directly at the plasma surges which would veer toward the
ship, then he would shoot into another direction before it
struck.  Garak did not seem to care.  The Klingon ships
fired a full barrage of phaser blasts throughout the entire
region, flushing out the smaller ship. 

Sisko and O'Brien fled, gladly. A good number of their
rebel friends were still hiding in the various warrens
throughout the Badlands, they might be able to lead the
ships away by seeming to try and escape. 

It worked. All three Klingon ships followed them, firing
madly. Sisko smiled tightly at his display screen and
clapped Smiley's back.

"You've got Garak madder than a two-ton rastipod, Ben."

"Good. He's had me madder than that myself."

"What's bad is they'll catch us about two minutes before we
can get to the belt." 

"Not if they have something to distract them, Smiley."
Sisko stood and headed out of the small ship's bridge.

"What do you have in mind, Ben?"

"Just be ready, Smiley. I know you'll know what to do."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Garak watched with intense, almost maddening, pleasure as
the small pirate ship grew larger in the Klingon cruiser's
sights. They would not get away!

"Flank them."

"They won't escape," Captain Worf assured him. 

He had been the communications officer on Terok Nor
once; the Terran rebellion had led to many deaths of
officers before him, though, and he had enjoyed a steady
rise in the ranks. A transfer to a heavy cruiser and a few
judicious 'accidental' deaths had led to his current post, one
he had no intention of vacating.

"I said flank them." The Cardassians tone was mild, but the
look in his eyes was wild and murderous. Worf shrugged
negligently.

"ChIjwI', chung bot," he ordered, then added as an
afterthought, "Doj."

Several of his officers smiled at this addendum which
basically instructed the helmsman to 'be clever'.  The
moment of solidarity lasted for only a few seconds...then
the small pirate ship appeared to split into pieces.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Sisko struggled to hold onto consciousness, fighting the G-
forces and immense inertial drag as the escape shuttle shot
away from the pirate ship at full throttle.

He had programmed the other five in succession, in order
to make them jettison in unison. In actuality the first escape
shuttle had jammed and he had needed to jimmy the hatch
manually by way of his phazer and a good solid kick or
two. This had disheartened him, but it was the only one that
had jammed; the rest readily complied.

Then he dumped the contents of the ship's wastebay and
strapped himself into the last tiny escape shuttle just as he
felt the other ships drop away. He punched the emergency
escape latch and fired the engines almost immediately
after. His ship fell free and into space. He headed for the
belt on full thrusters.

Ben could see tremendous bolts of energy spewing all
around as the three Klingons made short work of the other
empty escape shuttles. He could see the pirate ship he had
called his home for several years put on an impressive burst
of speed, and he manuevered his shuttle between it and the
Klingons. He prayed Smiley would do him proud. He
smiled as he heard the crackling of energy behind him.

Captain Benjamin Sisko, leader of the Terran rebellion,
died as he had lived...fighting the forces that strove to
enslave him. The last sight he saw was his pirate ship
entering the Denorios Belt.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"It looks like it's going to be passing near the Denorios
Belt." Jadzia Dax announced, somewhat unnecessarily
Kira had not said a word aside from pre-flight instructions
to her and to Ops as they had left the station. That was
almost eight hours ago and Dax longed to hear something
beside the acknowledging beeps and whistles of the
runabout computer when she entered instructions into her
console.

Unfortunately, the Major merely grunted at this bit of
information and now Jadzia mused aloud, in a joking
manner, "I wonder if it passes close enough to the
wormhole, if maybe we could slip it through to the Gamma
Quadrant?" 

Kira blinked at this and turned to her now. Dax waited
calmly, fully expecting either anger at this nonsensical
question or, hopefully, laughter; at this point in their
tedious flight, she would gladly accept either from the
taciturn Major.

Instead, Kira asked, "Is there some way of making it do
that, Dax?"

"What?" 

She explained, "With the amount of ore filaments that this
particular storm is carrying, isn't there some way of
readjusting the gravimetric pull on the runabout's tractor
beam and harnessing the storm, to move it toward the
wormhole and force it through so it won't go near the
station?" 

Before Dax could say anything, the Major added
insistently, "The closest system in the Gamma Quadrant is
uninhabited, parsecs away. Everything else is even further
and even if the storm didn't break up in the wormhole, it
would probably dissipate long before it hit a planet or
moon over there." 

This was the longest utterance Kira had made since the
death chant for Odo.  Now Jadzia blinked, surprised at this
impromptu idea. She considered it, then smiled.

"You know, I think we could do it. But it would put a
tremendous strain on the ships engines."

The Major began entering coordinates into the navigation
console and spoke as she worked, "We don't need to do it
fast, Dax.  We can route power from the warp engines to
the shields and tractor beam and use our impulse engines to
take the storm in." 

Dax rose. "Keep working out our approach, Major. I'll get
us both a Raktajino and a sandwich. Something tells me
we're going to need more than just luck, but energy and our
wits to pull this off."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"Scan them again!"

"There was biological matter in that last shuttle," Worf
muttered, frowning at the scanner himself.

"And the main ship?"

"It slipped into the Belt."

"Long-range scans?"

The huge Klingon stood, looming over the more slender
Cardassian, but his voice displayed his awareness of
Garak's displeasure.

"Nothing. It's gone."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"What?"

"It says they're towing the storm to the wormhole," Chief
O'Brien repeated, just as startled as his commander.

"I don't believe it."

"I believe it, I just can't believe they'd be fool enough to do
it."

"Did they outline their plan, chief?"

"No, sir. It just says they plan on using the tractor. I'd
assume they're going to try a low-level, widebeam
gravometric field, grab onto the filaments."

"Is that what you would do, chief?"

O'Brien considered this, chewed a lip, then shook his head.
"It wouldn't have occurred to me, sir, but I suppose it is
what I might have done."

Sisko nodded at this, satisfied, then stepped back into his
office at Ops. Once the doors slid shut, the engineer added
softly, "If I were a crazy man, that is."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

The Intendant finished eating a ration bar and looked
beside her to smile wistfully at Odo. The temperature was
dropping yet again in the cavern; he had noted a plume of
fog when she'd spoken to him earlier.

Suddenly, the familiar tingle of transporter energy
enveloped them. They found themselves back aboard the
pirate ship, but Smiley greeted them with a phazer by the
transporter vestibule. His face was slightly reddened and he
looked weary. He waved the phaser in Odo's direction.

"Don't try anything." His voice sounded hoarse.

"I take it you weren't successful." Odo replied evenly,
noting the man's unsteadiness.

A surprising amount of sorrow filled the engineer's voice as
he said, "They killed him! The bastards killed the captain."
He looked at the Intendant with grim, icy disgust, "I don't
even know why I came, but I'm here. I...I should take you to
our main camp...you'd learn about...about captivity there."

The Intendant took this without indication of either joy,
sorrow or anger, merely a flare of her nostrils and a
considering look at Odo. Odo was watching O'Brien,
though. He had noted the blisters on the hand waving the
phazer; the Human had taken the brunt of some sort of
explosion in the face and hands and if he didn't miss his bet
the man would collapse soon and then 

As if on cue, the burly Human suddenly fell to his knee's.
He continued to hold up the phaser in their direction, but
his hand trembled and he frowned, annoyed at himself.  

"Bloody hell," Smiley murmured fretfully, right before
losing consciousness.  

When Odo and the Intendant saw the size of the burn on
the man's back, they wondered how he had managed to
return to the asteroid at all.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"Approaching the storm's edge, we're now on maneuvering
thrusters only."

"Tell me when we're at 5,000 meters, Major." 

"Close enough to scorch?" 

"I don't want to blow out an expansion circuit, Major," Dax
responded tersely.

"Got you," Kira replied succinctly. "18,000 meters mark.
11,000. Eight. Seven. Six point two. Five point--"

"Activating tractor." 

This pronouncement was followed by a jolting shudder that
rippled through the runabout.  Kira got the sudden mental
image of a tethered razorcat bucking a hunter's capture
leash.  She shook it off.

"It looks like we've got it, Dax."

"Yes, now it's up to your deft navigational skills, Major." 

Kira looked up at this, noted Jadzia's smile and responded
with one of her own. 

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"There's no one else aboard," the Intendant announced
upon her return from her reconnoiter through the pirate
ship.

The constable had taken the injured O'Brien to the aft
compartment's tiny, but complete medical aid center. The
Intendant had taken a rapid sonic scrub and replicated
herself a new uniform. Then she had inspected the ship's
bridge.

"I've set the ship for automatic return, top speed. She's fast,
it should be there in a day or so. The long-range sensor
board looks shorted out, I think that's what exploded on
him, but the short and mid-range scanners seem to be
functional."

Odo nodded, busy. "I'm no doctor, this type of injury isn't
something I've ever seen before," he noted, studying the
bioscans, adding, "I think his kidney was ruptured. He's
bleeding internally. I'm putting him in stasis; it won't help,
but he should make it to the station. He'll require
immediate treatment when we return."

The Intendant merely watched him as he settled O'Brien
onto the drawer of the stasis chamber in the aft
compartment of the small ship which the rebels used to use
in collecting tribute for the Intendant as evidenced by the
crates within the room full of cargo. He slid the drawer into
the chamber which activated the console.

"Why bother with him?" she suddenly asked. Her
vehemence caused him to look up at her in surprise. 

"He returned for us despite this injury he sustained," Odo
argued. "Even if his only reason was to take you back to
prove the rebels claims to your people, he kept his word. In
my universe, this man is a good one. I don't think the
universe's are so different that this one isn't a decent man as
well."

"We're just wasting time," she replied stubbornly, an odd
catch in her voice.

"I don't understand." 

Odo waited for her response, but the Intendant remained
with her back to him. He considered this, then went up to
her. She didn't look at him and Odo found himself tilting
her head up. He was stunned to find her crying, more
surprised when she shook free of him and got up, heading
for the corridor.

"Damn you!" She managed to mumble under her breath.
Odo caught her by an arm and fought the impulsive move
she made to free herself.

"Are you mad because I show concern for our kidnappers?"
he asked, oddly disappointed in her response. This woman
is truly different from the Kira Nerys I know...

"No, damn you!" she responded vehemently. "Don't you
understand? I'm upset because you'll be trying to go back
now!" This admission surprised Odo so much that he
released her, stunned.

After a moment he found his voice, which reflected his
uncertainty, as well as his desire to console her, "Kira... I
don't even know how to return. I won't deny I hope to, but I
don't see how it will be possible."

She shook her head. "You'll return, because you don't
belong here. The Prophets will see to it, the way they did
with my counterpart. There was no escape, then she and
that Terran disappeared before my eyes... so will you."

The last word ended on a choked sob and Odo found
himself placing a hand on her shoulder, but she shook free
of him and he stood there helplessly, uncertain of what he
should do. His voice reflected his uncertainty.

"Kira...?"

She looked up at him and a single tear slid down her so-
familiar face, filling him with regret and dismay. His hand
reached out of it's own volition to wipe it free and it
sparkled on the tip of his finger like the warmed ice
crletting the little
toad get her annoyed and irritated.

Quark blinked. His tone was far more cautious. "I
apologize, Major. I had no idea you were busy. I'll get to
the point. Rom and I understand there's going to be a
memorial for the constable tomorrow afternoon."

"That's right," Kira said in the same even tone, counting
internally to avoid losing her temper, _one kellipate, two
kellipates, three kellip--_

"I'd like to offer the use of my bar."

"A memorial in a bar. What on Bajor would make you
think that would be appropriate, Quark?" She was striving
not to explode with the simmering anger she could feel just
beneath the surface.

Quark beamed. "The constable and I were old sparring
partners, Major. He used to belly up to the bar all the time.
Of course, he never drank anything, but I forgave him for
that long ago."

"Forgave him?" Kira took a deep breath, but before she
could let it out in a blistering tirade, her commbadge
signalled.

"Dax to Kira."

"Go ahead, Dax," Kira muttered between clenched teeth.

"Major, the ion storm barely struck Klaestron and began
heading back for the station again." 

"What?" Kira demanded now, all thoughts of Quark utterly
forgotten. "I thought O'Brien and Sisko mapped that thing
as headed beyond Klaestron?"

"They did. But for some unknown reason it's headed back."

"E.T.A. to the station, Lieutenant?" 

"It's headed back at Warp 15 and unless it loses speed it
should arrive tomorrow afternoon. Benjamin wants to
know if you and I will go out this time while he and the
chief supervise the station?"

The heavy weight inside Kira's heart felt suddenly lighter. -
_Thank you Prophets, for a difficult but necessary task to
take my mind off things._

"Give me five minutes and I'll meet you at the runabout,
Dax!" The Major did not notice that Quark had hurried off
after Jadzia had said the storm would arrive tomorrow, her
mind now focused on the task before her.

"Landing pad C, Major. We'll be taking the Rio Grande."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

With the two birds-of-prey, Sisko had intended on taking
over Prophet's Landing, the Bajoran colony closest to
Cardassia, and installing it as their main base. Alas, this
was not to be.

Before all the Terran rebels from one of their base camps
could be beamed to their newly captured birds-of-prey,
three heavy Klingon cruisers uncloaked as they entered the
Badlands. They had done so partly because they were
unable to maintain the energy-intensive device within the
plasma fields, but mostly, Sisko knew, because of the
statement such a gesture made. It had to be Garak!

The warships immediately began a fierce and merciless
onslaught. Their two new birds-of-prey were almost
useless. Unable to fly cloaked in the Badlands either, and
thus as vulnerable as any other ship, their crews were also
piloted by inexperienced, if tenacious rebels. Their only
chance was to flee at top speed, cloak once free of the
Badlands and keep running.

Sisko had ordered them all to escape, to make their way to
safer space. In this case, it was either to Breen territory
where the non-allied friendly race would protect them as
best they could or through the wormhole in the Denorios
Belt. He did not stop to see if they made it or not. He had
his own war to wage and he was outgunned from the start.
His only advantage was in his piloting skill and his smaller,
more maneuverable ship.

He plunged deeper into the Badlands, seemingly flying
directly at the plasma surges which would veer toward the
ship, then he would shoot into another direction before it
struck.  Garak did not seem to care.  The Klingon ships
fired a full barrage of phaser blasts throughout the entire
region, flushing out the smaller ship. 

Sisko and O'Brien fled, gladly. A good number of their
rebel friends were still hiding in the various warrens
throughout the Badlands, they might be able to lead the
ships away by seeming to try and escape. 

It worked. All three Klingon ships followed them, firing
madly. Sisko smiled tightly at his display screen and
clapped Smiley's back.

"You've got Garak madder than a two-ton rastipod, Ben."

"Good. He's had me madder than that myself."

"What's bad is they'll catch us about two minutes before we
can get to the belt." 

"Not if they have something to distract them, Smiley."
Sisko stood and headed out of the small ship's bridge.

"What do you have in mind, Ben?"

"Just be ready, Smiley. I know you'll know what to do."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Garak watched with intense, almost maddening, pleasure as
the small pirate ship grew larger in the Klingon cruiser's
sights. They would not get away!

"Flank them."

"They won't escape," Captain Worf assured him. 

He had been the communications officer on Terok Nor
once; the Terran rebellion had led to many deaths of
officers before him, though, and he had enjoyed a steady
rise in the ranks. A transfer to a heavy cruiser and a few
judicious 'accidental' deaths had led to his current post, one
he had no intention of vacating.

"I said flank them." The Cardassians tone was mild, but the
look in his eyes was wild and murderous. Worf shrugged
negligently.

"ChIjwI', chung bot," he ordered, then added as an
afterthought, "Doj."

Several of his officers smiled at this addendum which
basically instructed the helmsman to 'be clever'.  The
moment of solidarity lasted for only a few seconds...then
the small pirate ship appeared to split into pieces.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Sisko struggled to hold onto consciousness, fighting the G-
forces and immense inertial drag as the escape shuttle shot
away from the pirate ship at full throttle.

He had programmed the other five in succession, in order
to make them jettison in unison. In actuality the first escape
shuttle had jammed and he had needed to jimmy the hatch
manually by way of his phazer and a good solid kick or
two. This had disheartened him, but it was the only one that
had jammed; the rest readily complied.

Then he dumped the contents of the ship's wastebay and
strapped himself into the last tiny escape shuttle just as he
felt the other ships drop away. He punched the emergency
escape latch and fired the engines almost immediately
after. His ship fell free and into space. He headed for the
belt on full thrusters.

Ben could see tremendous bolts of energy spewing all
around as the three Klingons made short work of the other
empty escape shuttles. He could see the pirate ship he had
called his home for several years put on an impressive burst
of speed, and he manuevered his shuttle between it and the
Klingons. He prayed Smiley would do him proud. He
smiled as he heard the crackling of energy behind him.

Captain Benjamin Sisko, leader of the Terran rebellion,
died as he had lived...fighting the forces that strove to
enslave him. The last sight he saw was his pirate ship
entering the Denorios Belt.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"It looks like it's going to be passing near the Denorios
Belt." Jadzia Dax announced, somewhat unnecessarily
Kira had not said a word aside from pre-flight instructions
to her and to Ops as they had left the station. That was
almost eight hours ago and Dax longed to hear something
beside the acknowledging beeps and whistles of the
runabout computer when she entered instructions into her
console.

Unfortunately, the Major merely grunted at this bit of
information and now Jadzia mused aloud, in a joking
manner, "I wonder if it passes close enough to the
wormhole, if maybe we could slip it through to the Gamma
Quadrant?" 

Kira blinked at this and turned to her now. Dax waited
calmly, fully expecting either anger at this nonsensical
question or, hopefully, laughter; at this point in their
tedious flight, she would gladly accept either from the
taciturn Major.

Instead, Kira asked, "Is there some way of making it do
that, Dax?"

"What?" 

She explained, "With the amount of ore filaments that this
particular storm is carrying, isn't there some way of
readjusting the gravimetric pull on the runabout's tractor
beam and harnessing the storm, to move it toward the
wormhole and force it through so it won't go near the
station?" 

Before Dax could say anything, the Major added
insistently, "The closest system in the Gamma Quadrant is
uninhabited, parsecs away. Everything else is even further
and even if the storm didn't break up in the wormhole, it
would probably dissipate long before it hit a planet or
moon over there." 

This was the longest utterance Kira had made since the
death chant for Odo.  Now Jadzia blinked, surprised at this
impromptu idea. She considered it, then smiled.

"You know, I think we could do it. But it would put a
tremendous strain on the ships engines."

The Major began entering coordinates into the navigation
console and spoke as she worked, "We don't need to do it
fast, Dax.  We can route power from the warp engines to
the shields and tractor beam and use our impulse engines to
take the storm in." 

Dax rose. "Keep working out our approach, Major. I'll get
us both a Raktajino and a sandwich. Something tells me
we're going to need more than just luck, but energy and our
wits to pull this off."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"Scan them again!"

"There was biological matter in that last shuttle," Worf
muttered, frowning at the scanner himself.

"And the main ship?"

"It slipped into the Belt."

"Long-range scans?"

The huge Klingon stood, looming over the more slender
Cardassian, but his voice displayed his awareness of
Garak's displeasure.

"Nothing. It's gone."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"What?"

"It says they're towing the storm to the wormhole," Chief
O'Brien repeated, just as startled as his commander.

"I don't believe it."

"I believe it, I just can't believe they'd be fool enough to do
it."

"Did they outline their plan, chief?"

"No, sir. It just says they plan on using the tractor. I'd
assume they're going to try a low-level, widebeam
gravometric field, grab onto the filaments."

"Is that what you would do, chief?"

O'Brien considered this, chewed a lip, then shook his head.
"It wouldn't have occurred to me, sir, but I suppose it is
what I might have done."

Sisko nodded at this, satisfied, then stepped back into his
office at Ops. Once the doors slid shut, the engineer added
softly, "If I were a crazy man, that is."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

The Intendant finished eating a ration bar and looked
beside her to smile wistfully at Odo. The temperature was
dropping yet again in the cavern; he had noted a plume of
fog when she'd spoken to him earlier.

Suddenly, the familiar tingle of transporter energy
enveloped them. They found themselves back aboard the
pirate ship, but Smiley greeted them with a phazer by the
transporter vestibule. His face was slightly reddened and he
looked weary. He waved the phaser in Odo's direction.

"Don't try anything." His voice sounded hoarse.

"I take it you weren't successful." Odo replied evenly,
noting the man's unsteadiness.

A surprising amount of sorrow filled the engineer's voice as
he said, "They killed him! The bastards killed the captain."
He looked at the Intendant with grim, icy disgust, "I don't
even know why I came, but I'm here. I...I should take you to
our main camp...you'd learn about...about captivity there."

The Intendant took this without indication of either joy,
sorrow or anger, merely a flare of her nostrils and a
considering look at Odo. Odo was watching O'Brien,
though. He had noted the blisters on the hand waving the
phazer; the Human had taken the brunt of some sort of
explosion in the face and hands and if he didn't miss his bet
the man would collapse soon and then 

As if on cue, the burly Human suddenly fell to his knee's.
He continued to hold up the phaser in their direction, but
his hand trembled and he frowned, annoyed at himself.  

"Bloody hell," Smiley murmured fretfully, right before
losing consciousness.  

When Odo and the Intendant saw the size of the burn on
the man's back, they wondered how he had managed to
return to the asteroid at all.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"Approaching the storm's edge, we're now on maneuvering
thrusters only."

"Tell me when we're at 5,000 meters, Major." 

"Close enough to scorch?" 

"I don't want to blow out an expansion circuit, Major," Dax
responded tersely.

"Got you," Kira replied succinctly. "18,000 meters mark.
11,000. Eight. Seven. Six point two. Five point--"

"Activating tractor." 

This pronouncement was followed by a jolting shudder that
rippled through the runabout.  Kira got the sudden mental
image of a tethered razorcat bucking a hunter's capture
leash.  She shook it off.

"It looks like we've got it, Dax."

"Yes, now it's up to your deft navigational skills, Major." 

Kira looked up at this, noted Jadzia's smile and responded
with one of her own. 

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"There's no one else aboard," the Intendant announced
upon her return from her reconnoiter through the pirate
ship.

The constable had taken the injured O'Brien to the aft
compartment's tiny, but complete medical aid center. The
Intendant had taken a rapid sonic scrub and replicated
herself a new uniform. Then she had inspected the ship's
bridge.

"I've set the ship for automatic return, top speed. She's fast,
it should be there in a day or so. The long-range sensor
board looks shorted out, I think that's what exploded on
him, but the short and mid-range scanners seem to be
functional."

Odo nodded, busy. "I'm no doctor, this type of injury isn't
something I've ever seen before," he noted, studying the
bioscans, adding, "I think his kidney was ruptured. He's
bleeding internally. I'm putting him in stasis; it won't help,
but he should make it to the station. He'll require
immediate treatment when we return."

The Intendant merely watched him as he settled O'Brien
onto the drawer of the stasis chamber in the aft
compartment of the small ship which the rebels used to use
in collecting tribute for the Intendant as evidenced by the
crates within the room full of cargo. He slid the drawer into
the chamber which activated the console.

"Why bother with him?" she suddenly asked. Her
vehemence caused him to look up at her in surprise. 

"He returned for us despite this injury he sustained," Odo
argued. "Even if his only reason was to take you back to
prove the rebels claims to your people, he kept his word. In
my universe, this man is a good one. I don't think the
universe's are so different that this one isn't a decent man as
well."

"We're just wasting time," she replied stubbornly, an odd
catch in her voice.

"I don't understand." 

Odo waited for her response, but the Intendant remained
with her back to him. He considered this, then went up to
her. She didn't look at him and Odo found himself tilting
her head up. He was stunned to find her crying, more
surprised when she shook free of him and got up, heading
for the corridor.

"Damn you!" She managed to mumble under her breath.
Odo caught her by an arm and fought the impulsive move
she made to free herself.

"Are you mad because I show concern for our kidnappers?"
he asked, oddly disappointed in her response. This woman
is truly different from the Kira Nerys I know...

"No, damn you!" she responded vehemently. "Don't you
understand? I'm upset because you'll be trying to go back
now!" This admission surprised Odo so much that he
released her, stunned.

After a moment he found his voice, which reflected his
uncertainty, as well as his desire to console her, "Kira... I
don't even know how to return. I won't deny I hope to, but I
don't see how it will be possible."

She shook her head. "You'll return, because you don't
belong here. The Prophets will see to it, the way they did
with my counterpart. There was no escape, then she and
that Terran disappeared before my eyes... so will you."

The last word ended on a choked sob and Odo found
himself placing a hand on her shoulder, but she shook free
of him and he stood there helplessly, uncertain of what he
should do. His voice reflected his uncertainty.

"Kira...?"

She looked up at him and a single tear slid down her so-
familiar face, filling him with regret and dismay. His hand
reached out of it's own volition to wipe it free and it
sparkled on the tip of his finger like the warmed ice
crystals had the day before, but in any universe, Kira's tears
were more rare than any crystal and Odo was filled with the
overpowering desire to ease her pain, to remove it from
her, somehow...someway.

_I am well and truly lost._

This was Odo's last coherent thought as Kira's tears
moistened his face, moistened their joined lips as he sought
to comfort her in the only way he could think of, setting
aside words and letting his body speak for him as it sought
to shelter hers...even as it sought the sanctuary of her own.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"They say they were successful. They were able to
simultaneously transfer the new engine core as they
beamed out the old one."

Garak said nothing, his eyes scanning the asteroid field
constantly. WIth all the debris, it was difficult to tell what
was a rock and what might be something else. 

Worf waited, but the Cardassian didn't even turn around.
He kept watching the viewscreen as if he expected to find
the answers to existence there. He had been doing so for
hours. The Klingon scowled.

"The station is now secure. Engineering reports the new
engine core is operating at top efficiency."

Garak didn't even blink. Worf felt like taking a pain stick to
him, but had the suspicion even if he did, the Cardassian
would simply grimace and keep staring out at the field of
debris. He tried one more tactic.

"They say they are awaiting your orders."

At this, the Cardassian finally spoke, but his eyes remained
on the asteroid field and his self-appointed task.

"Tell them they can keep waiting."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"Six hours to the wormhole. Everything still holding
steady." Jadzia intoned, watching consoles and juggling
power levels to maintain the integrity of both tractor beam
and runabout shields.

Kira said nothing, having given up power in order to
manually navigate the runabout closer toward the Denorios
Belt. Her skillful and efficient hands worked the runabout
control board as if born to it. Jadzia didn't doubt Kira had
been a formidable fighter pilot for Bajor during the
Occupation; she had yet to see her fumble while piloting
any ship.  Unfortunately her companion remained utterly
mum, intent on her work to the exclusion of outside
influences.

Dax sighed, wishing she'd asked the computer for music to
break the tedium, but aware that even such a negligible
drain on ship's reserves might be needed before their
journey was over.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

There was no sound at all in the galley, but remorse hung
heavy in the air as the inescapable truth reasserted itself.
_Time enough for regret when I return_, Odo mused,
adding with a sigh, _*if* I return._

"What's wrong?" The Intendant's drowsy murmur against
his chest roused him from this introspection.

"We shouldn't have done this again," he admitted heavily,
adding before she could protest, "At least, not again after I
reformed."

_No, *I* shouldn't have done this_, he thought to himself.
He tried now to determine what had possessed him. _Is it
this universe? Or this woman? _

She slid up higher against him and murmured against his
mouth, "I'm glad we did," then she kissed him deeply. To
his surprise, he found himself responding, holding her
tightly, briefly, then easing his hold. 

"We should get to the bridge," he said, not without regret.

She suddenly whispered tearfully, "I'm going to miss you."

"Kira," Odo sighed, disturbed by her melancholy, "We don't
even know if I'll be able to return to my own universe."

"You will. The Prophets will see to it."

Unable to respond to this, he found himself reaching up to
caress her cheek, bringing her to him. Then he kissed her
once more, the merest brush of his lips as a tear slipped
free from her eye and landed on his face. Then she got up
abruptly, reaching for her clothing.

"I know. You won't miss me." She slipped into her suit.
Before he could respond, she added, "But you will miss
this."

After a long moment, Odo nodded. He concentrated and
reformed his uniform and stepped closer to her. As she
slipped the straps of her uniform onto her shoulders, she
turned to find him right behind her. She tilted her face up
to him. Her voice was rueful.

"Will you think of me, Odo? At all?"

After another long moment, he nodded again...but this time
he was holding her wky had been a brighter shade of this color
when he'd first been allowed outside the research center,
into the well-guarded outer bailey, still watched, but free to
walk around and stare at the Bajoran hills and the
incredibly blue sky. That was the color he'd patterned his
eyes on. Abruptly, he realized he stood once more in that
bailey and that the Prophets waited for his answer and
nodded bleakly.

"He was right. Those like the Sisko who aren't afraid of me,
are merely curious of how I can change my shape." An
undercurrent of distress colored Odo's words in a way he
rarely permitted himself. In an odd way, with these
Prophets he felt free to reveal more of himself than he
might.

_They probably know all that's in my mind, anyway,_ he
reasoned, _from my origins to my eventual end. All the
shapes I've worn, those to be and my natural form._

"Natural. What is natural?" The Dax-Prophet suddenly
asked, making him jump a bit guiltily.

Odo hesitated, then let his form go, reverting to his
gelatinous state, despite feeling a bit disconcerted by the
presence of all these people. 

_They only look like my co-workers,_ he reminded
himself, thinking that in actuality they were hypothesized
to be entirely beyond the routine perceptions of most
sentient beings. _Rather the way I only look like a
humanoid, but am really a formless gelatinous creature. I
wonder if any can ever really understand what it is to be
liquid, to be unfettered by any shape or standard?_

After a too-brief moment of pleasant, almost refreshing
formlessness, Odo took his customary humanoid form,
finding himself inside a holding cell in security now. The
Sisko-Prophet tilted his head at him.

"The Odo is not as the Sisko in linear-life, neither at the
beginning nor the end of his linear-life?"

"I wouldn't really know. I don't even know how long-lived
my species is; I'm the only one of me I've seen," Odo
admitted, then nearly winced at his imprecise language. To
his surprise, the gathered Prophets merely nodded. 

"You exist within yourself among the others," the Mora-
Prophet intoned. 

"The only Odo among those as the Sisko," the Bashir-
Prophet added.

"With no conception of your beginning or ending. As the
Sisko," the O'Brien-Prophet finished.

"It sounds lonely." 

The Kira-Prophet stepped up to his side, looking down at
him. The constable found himself seated in the center seat
of a Cardassian tribunal room. The Dax-Prophet joined her,
at his other side.

"Very lonely," she intoned.

"There are... were... there may be others like me. I don't
know. I haven't found them," Odo fought to keep his voice
even, fought the urge to squirm in the witness chair. 

The O'Brien-Prophet spoke from the Nestor's box before
him. "The Sisko explained linear life is unaware of it's
beginning and of it's end."

The Sisko-Prophet inclined his head beside O'Brien. "To be
without basic knowledge appears to be linear law." 
"The Odo observes linear-law," the Mora-Prophet intoned
from the Chief Archon's chair far above. He looked down
at Odo as if studying him and the constable fought another
sudden urge to squirm with difficulty.

_They appear in this fashion for your benefit, if they
appeared in their normal manner, it would likely be
disturbing, in the same way my appearance would be
disturbing to humanoids._

Why was it important not to disturb them though, he
wondered now. He had no similar aversions toward their
appearance, feeling only a sense of curiosity about their
functions, which he could emulate but not always
understand. 

He had been told the why, but nothing could teach him the
'what' of such things as eating, drinking, sleeping...even
coupling. Despite his curiousity, he had not asked many of
his questions, merely observing as was his wont, but
humanoids did not seem to confer him the same politeness.
From the start, they had begun asking all manner of
questions about him, if not to him. When his sentience had
been discovered, the questions had only increased.

Was it politeness that kept him from inquiring, he
wondered now. Or was it the hope for reciprocity, that not
asking would keep them from asking? _And yet I stay
among them. If I truly felt like being apart from them, I
could easily remove myself and yet I stay and answer and
observe._

"The Odo observes non-linear law," Bashir said now from
far above him. He seemed a huge and looming presence,
then Odo realized he was not in his customary shape.  He
studied a limb; it was a paw. He was a gray tabby atop a
biobed in the Infirmary.

He changed back into his customary shape, seated now on
the biobed, then studied his hand. He found himself
examining it as he had not done in a long time. It appeared
unremarkable, for a humanoid.

_Why is it I can form a hand, complete with nails,
wrinkles, knuckles, yet I can't seem to grasp the
complexities of a humanoid nose, those lines on their faces
which indicate the passage of time? But then, time does not
pass the same way to me. So what is it that reveals to others
the depth of my experiences?_

In a sudden, blinding insight, Odo realized that this very
blandness of feature was what made others treat him as
they did. How could they ascribe feelings his face did not
reveal? For a briefer moment, the shapeshifter knew
without doubt that this was why Kira,  *his* Kira, remained
unaware of his feelings.

_Doubtless this is a useful mechanism for an observer such
as I_, he conceded, _but do I wish to remain this way?_ For
the first time in his entire life, Odo asked himself the
question: _Will I ever be happy this way?_

The Bashir-Prophet tilted his head at him, looking so very
like the real doctor that Odo responded in kind, studying
him back. The Prophet pursed his lips. 

"The Odo does appear to be a singular form of linear-life."

The Kira-Prophet wasn't so sure. "The Sisko showed linear
life propagates from linear life. The Odo made the Odo?"

Odo shook his head now, bemused. "No. The scientists
who studied me determined I have DNA, chromosomal
patterns...this is an indication among most linear-life that
one is the product of conception. Just as those you are all
representing before me are."

"Conception." The Mora-Prophet wrapped his mouth
around this term and added, "Birth. The linear fashion of
creating linear life."

The O'Brien-Prophet nodded. "The Sisko said birth allows
linear-life to continue after linear-life has ended."

The Sisko-Prophet queried thoughtfully, "The Odo is the
effort to perpetuate linear-life in this fashion?"

"It could be," Odo admitted softly. "I don't know. I was
discovered on one side of your wormhole. It is believed
that I drifted through from the other side. I have yet to meet
anyone that can confirm this and I haven't met anyone of
my kind."

"Linear existence is confusing," the Kira-Prophet told the
Sisko-Prophet.

"The Odo is not like the Sisko," the Bashir-Prophet added.

The Dax-Prophet nodded thoughtfully, "Yet the Odo is
linear."

"And the Odo exists as the Sisko in the before," the Sisko-
Prophet pronounced.

Suddenly Odo found himself in Terok Nor, looking at an
image too real to be holographic. It was him, several years
ago, standing beside Vattrick's widow, Pallra, who was
pointing out a young, red-haired Bajoran woman beside the
Replimat with a full tray of food, a woman he knew now as
Kira Nerys. 

An odd, internalized sensation filled him, much as it had
when he had first seen Kira, and to his dismay, he noted
now that he was mistaken. This replay of a moment
revealed to him what few others had noted before; that his
eyes spoke volumes, particularly in that single moment of
clarity.

_I loved Kira Nerys from the moment I saw her, but I did
not realize it until--_ he found himself suddenly watching
that moment. Kira stood across from him in his own
security office. He had been forced to accept that Kira had
lied to him, betrayed him by compounding that lie by
maintaining it for years, by not telling him the truth about
Vattrick; that she had killed the chemist.

Because he was a collaborator and that was her job as a
member of the Bajoran underground? Or in self-defense
because he had uncovered her presence on the station? Did
it really matter? he asked himself now, remembering how
she had asked him hopefully, but knowingly, if he would
ever trust her again. 

He had not been able to answer, distressed over the
compelling feelings he had toward her and deeply shamed
that he wanted to give her the answer she wanted simply to
please her. He had never thought to feel such conflicting
misery ever again.

The Dax-Prophet merely told him, "You exist here."

The Mora-Prophet stepped up, adding, "And here."

He was suddenly seated behind his desk in the security
office, Kira sitting on the desk in front of him, facing away.
His fingers were mindlessly entering data and with a
sinking feeling, he realized what Kira was going to say to
him yet again. He had replayed it often enough in his mind
since that fateful day. Her tone was quiet, yet the words had
seemed to echo in the small Security Office...and in Odo's
mind.

"I love him, Odo." 

Despite knowing what she was going to say, the pain this
statement had caused lanced through him yet again, but this
time there was no need to hide it. He lowered his head,
now, suddenly tired, desperately, miserably tired. The
knowledge beat against his best defenses and he was
helpless against it, against the conflicting feelings that
swept through him. Abruptly, he found himself back at Ops
with the prophets surrounding him. 

"This is not linear," the Kira-Prophet told him.

He looked up at her and said softly, "It is linear. I love her."
To his surprise, his voice faltered and he had to look down
in order to finish his statement with a trembling sigh, "But I
can not be with her."

"The Kira exists," The Sisko-Prophet said and he looked up
at this, puzzled.

"The Kira has not ended her linear existence," the O'Brien-
Prophet agreed and Odo realized what they were trying to
communicate.

"She exists within your linear existence," the Bashir-
Prophet added before he could speak.

"And here in the before," the Mora-Prophet added.

Odo abruptly found himself looking at a dark rock chamber
within the asteroid in the Chamra Vortex in the Gamma
Quadrant. To his chagrin, the tableaux was of he and the
Intendant making love within the rough layers of sacking.
He looked away, but the Dax-Prophet added relentlessly,
"And in this before."

The rock chamber changed into the galley of the pirate
ship, where he and the Intendant had made love.  Were
*making* love, in fact, he noted with a guilty, flustered
swallow. The Prophets were presenting him with what they
perceived as his own lie. He nodded, hoping they would
change the scene, but when it remained, he looked away.

"This is all true, but this is another Kira, not the Kira of my
universe. And the Kira of my universe doesn't love me...she
loves someone else..." It was difficult to say, he discovered,
no matter where or to whom.

The Mora-Prophet tilted his head. "The Odo wishes to
remain with the Kira in this before?"

The constable looked up at this, then dropped his gaze and
shook his head, ashamed at his conflicting desires. His tone
was as even as he could make it, but his voice was a rough
rasp of sound.

"It is not where I belong. Just as you do not belong outside
of this wormhole you've created."

"We belong to all," the Sisko-Prophet lectured abruptly.

The Bashir-Prophet agreed. "We are there. We are here."

Odo looked up at this to meet their eyes, found himself
now in the Docking Ring by an airlock. He put a hand out
to touch the rim, finding comfort in the seemingly solid
station, despite his knowledge it did not exist. His legs felt
a bit wobbly.

"In the place I belong," he began carefully, found his voice
trembling and finished quietly, "The Kira does not
love...the Odo. The Kira of my universe loves someone
else."

"The Kira loves a linear-life form?" The O'Brien-Prophet
wanted to know. The constable nodded, looked out the
airm his mind. He
almost reached out to touch one of them, wondered what
they would do. He cleared his throat.

"I'm a shapeshifter. My name is Odo." 

"It is not linear?" asked the Sisko-Prophet.

"I change my shape."

"As do all linear beings," the Bashir-Prophet pointed out.

The O'Brien-Prophet stepped forward and Odo was startled
to see him revert into a chubby, curly-haired toddler that
waddled up and grabbed his pant leg. He was too stunned
to react. Then the child grew with astonishing rapidity into
the man Odo knew now. 

"The Odo is linear as the Sisko?" the O'Brien-Prophet
asked him calmly, as if unaware of his transition.

Odo realized what the Prophets seemed to be asking and
shook his head. "I am linear, but I change in a different
manner." 

"Different?" Kira asked. To his disquiet, they were now
within the research center. He wondered if this was
because all this questioning about his nature reminded him
of it. He decided a demonstration would be best.

"I change my shape in this manner," he said quietly, then
quickly changed into a razorcat and back again. They all
exchanged a bland look, then turned as one to study him
rather more thoroughly, although the shapeshifter was
certain they had other means at their disposal with which to
do so.

The Dax-Prophet tilted her head. "A game within the game
of linear life?" 

"It's not a game," Odo insisted. "It's how I live."

The Sisko-Prophet regarded him evenly. "Have you been
the Sisko?"

Odo considered this, then shook his head. "I can't
impersonate another. This," he indicated his current body,
"is the closest approximation I've been able to achieve."

"Yes, but is the Odo linear?" the Kira-Prophet demanded.

"It can conform to linear, from this," the Dax-Prophet
opined, suddenly appearing to be a very young, very cute-
looking Trill child, then abruptly a wizened old woman,
lined and gray. "To this," she finished in her regular
appearance as a young woman.

"Yes, with enough practice I could, but I don't do that. I
live day to day much as the Sisko," Odo explained, adding,
"As to my changing my appearance, I don't. I do try to
improve it, but since my first attempt at a humanoid form,
I've always appeared to be this age."

"Non-linear life among linear life?" The Bashir-Prophet
frowned now. They were now within the station Ward
Room, which filled the shapeshifter with an unmistakable
sense of relief.

"I am linear. I live day to day, but you're right; I am the
only one of my kind among those like the Sisko." 

The Sisko-Prophet exchanged looks with ut his tone was
bleak. He had not realized how empty the notion was in the
face of deeper feelings not returned.

"The Kira does not honor the Odo's love?" The Dax-
Prophet asked.

"The Kira...does not know of the Odo's love. The Kira
loves another," he murmured, deeply ashamed for no
reason he could pinpoint. The sensation was abidingly
familiar, however; he had felt it since the start,
commingled with hope and joy and a confused plethora of
other emotions he had never bothered to analyze.

"The Odo does not honor the Kira's frienship?" the O'Brien-
Prophet wanted to know.

"No. I cherish her friendship. It is the thing I value the
most."

"The Odo is a friend to the Kira. The Odo loves the Kira.
The Odo is honored by the Kira?" the Bashir-Prophet was
puzzled.

Very like her actual counterpart, the Dax-Prophet worked
out this difficult concept. "The Kira is a friend to the Odo.
The Odo loves the Kira. It does not balance."

The constable merely nodded, an aching and miserable
gesture. He hoped they wouldn't ask more. He didn't know
if he could maintain this form if he grew any more
distressed.

The O'Brien-Prophet was still uncertain. "The Kira is a
friend to the Odo. The Kira is a friend to the Bareil?" 

"The Kira loves Bareil!" Odo finally thundered, then
dropped his head, deeply shamed by the rage and hurt and
bewildered turmoil which filled him at this. _And I am
alone...it should be familiar, for it has always been this
way...and maybe always will be._

When he opened his eyes, the Kira-Prophet stood before
him, her familiar eyes glittering in an alien manner and he
sensed an eternal serenity which 'his' Kira did not possess,
as well as a staggering level of absolute knowledge. He
swallowed, suddenly uncertain, and, he admitted to
himself, somewhat afraid.

She merely said, "The Odo will find others such as the
Odo. The Kira will find others such as the Odo."

"The Kira must discover the truth of other linear life,
beyond the Sisko's and the Kira's," the Dax-Prophet opined.

The Bashir-Prophet added firmly, "And the Bareil."

The O'Brien-Prophet abruptly announced, "The Bareil
nears the end of linear existence." The rest nodded at this
statement with no hint of disapproval or pleasure or any
other emotion with which Odo was familiar. He frowned.
What did these Prophets mean? Was Bareil to die? What
would that mean? 

He had barely begun to process this possibility, ashamed
that he felt more than a trace of sudden hope, when the
Sisko-Prophet spoke. "The Odo must return. The Odo must
learn the truth of the Odo."

"The Odo must return," the Mora-Prophet agreed affably,
sounding very like the man he was representing.

Odo frowned at this, wondering what they meant, then he
shrugged lightly, accepting the knowledge even as he said
it. "I was dying when you reached me. When I return, I
will...reach the end of my linear existence."

The gathered Prophets considered this, then shook their
heads collectively, not in negation, but due to some
incomprehensible decision-making process. They spoke as
one.

"The Odo will be returned. The Odo must find the Odo."

Before he could say or do anything, the Kira-Prophet
stepped yet closer to him. Her voice was dissonant. "The
Odo will return. The Odo will find the Odo. The Odo nears
the beginning." He frowned, wanting to speak, to question,
then a blinding flash of light enveloped him. 

_Am I dying?_ This question hardly impressed him. He
was more concerned with a peculiar dizzying sense that he
was growing lighter and larger, floating, flowing, surging,
swelling... _ Must have gone gelatinous._

He thought he'd heard a voice. Strangely, it had sounded
like Kira Nerys. _But the Major is on the station, and I'm
not, I'm..._

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

Odo was bathed in surreal, howling light which filled him,
flooded him, dazed him and obscured his thoughts which
tumbled as chaotically as he did. He had the oddest
impression that he'd been speaking with the Prophets.

_The Prophets? Why would I feel that I spoke with the
Prophets?_ He wondered, bewildered and disoriented. _I'm
not religious. I'm not even Bajoran. Hallucinating, I must
be hallucinating. When a Bajoran see's the Prophets, it is
said that it means they are dying...perhaps I am dying. How
long have I been in this storm?_ These thoughts angered
him. _I can't give up! I can survive out here for a
while...long enough for them to get a transporter lock on
me._

He thought he saw the outline of a ship sweeping past him,
although in his dazed state, it might have been an optical
illusion, a ghost-ship.  Suddenly he recalled the transporter
couldn't get a proper pattern lock through ionizing
radiation, the very reason he was trapped out here. In either
case, real ship or ghost, it left him tumbling helplessly in
the brilliant, chaotic and maddening void.

It could not have helped, he decided as it passed, phantom
of reality that it likely was in any case. He had no use for
ghosts...he needed the concrete, the physical. He wished
now for one solid thing to hold onto amidst the chaos he
was in, but there was nothing, nothing but himself and his
torment.

Abruptly, he changed now, until his body was his own
again, the familiar form he had maintained for most of his
life among the more solid humanoids. His hands clenched
into fists and he curled in on himself; it was all he had. He
had spent most of his life alone, in unspoken isolation and
pain, now it seemed he was fated to die the same way. A
chilling sensation seized him now, unbidden.

_I'm well and truly lost,_ he lamented, admitting to his pain
and permitting himself a final expression of his despair.

With the last of the air from the pocket which surrounded
him, the pocket which was rapidly dispersing and leaving
him vulnerable to the painfully convergent turbulence that
swept around him, Odo screamed into the void.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"Telemetry received. The ion storm is a third of the way
through the wormhole," Dax informed the Major. Then she
frowned. "That's odd."

"What is it?" 

Kira was performing a quick systems-check of her console,
gratified to see the engines were operating well within
norms and that the energy reserves were holding steady at
above the half-way mark. She glanced over at Dax who
adjusted the remote-access guidance, then tilted her head.

"Reading a non-metallic substance within a strange pocket
of gases... no, it's some sort of silicate." 

Kira shrugged. "Probably fragments the storm picked up."

"It looks awfully famil...Kira! It's Odo!" Dax cried out, then
switched the viewscreen to this horrible view.

Kira didn't take any time to verbally respond. She nosed the
ship to the coordinates, slipping them into the wormhole.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

Responding to a surge of elevated neutrino levels within
the belt, Worf's ship had come across the damaged, drifting
pirate ship, shields strained to their utmost limits. They
must have hit it, both Worf and Garak had assumed. 

There were two faint life forms aboard, surely the two
Terrans, injured by the previous battle. The Intendant, he
decided, must be dead, because surely they would have her
on board if she wasn't. Rather than ordering its immediate
destruction, Garak had ordered it tractored to the station
where to their surprise they'd discovered the very much
alive Intendant seated in the navigator's chair with a bloody
scalp wound. A badly injured Terran slave had been in a
stasis chamber. 

There was no sign of Sisko.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

His world was pain. It felt like the ionic energy was
literally scouring him to dust and involuntary shudders
assailed him. To his horror, he could no longer scream as
the horrible howling maelstrom swirled in around him,
energy surging into every cell, leaving him with no means
of expressing the agony he currently experienced. More
familiar tingles of energy surrounded him now, but Odo did
not notice, they merely added to the torment he was
suffering.

Decades of studied and practiced humanoid behavior still
directed his actions, however, and he found himself
struggling to take in a breath. To his immense surprise, he
found himself able to and he nearly carried through with
his scream when he realized he was no longer outside the
station, but aboard a ship.

The effort turned into hitching gasps that startled him with
the stark terror inherent in their enactment. The outlines of
the ship wavered and for a horrifying moment he felt
himself once again looking into the void, but this time it
was black and velvety, the true black of space.

They must have lost the pattern lock, Odo fretted, deciding
then and there that although he did not relish the thought of
dying, he wished it were over already.

To his astonishment, he rematerialized again, this time
finding himself laying face up, within the transporter
chamber. Kira rushed up to kneel beside him. She hovered
over him, not touching him since static charges still surged
through him and sparked from his boots and shoulders. Her
voice was concerned and relieved.

"Odo! Are you alright?"

He could not feel anything apart from the occasional tingle
of residual energy along his sensitized body mass and a
moan escaped him despite himself. He closed his eyes. Odo
did not want Kira to see him like this; it reminded him too
much of the time he had been inadvertently affected by a
noxious gas which had rendered an alternate and
destructive being within him.

In order to stop him from rampaging through the station,
O'Brien had placed a painful, if necessary force-field
around him which had left him as helpless as a nearly-
drowned kitten. The humiliation of flopping helplessly onto
the floor of the Promenade, surrounded by his own
weapon-wielding deputies was not a memory which lived
with Odo easily.

"It's all right," Dax soothed, and he opened his eyes again to
find her looking down at him from the other side, running a
tricorder over him. She smiled and said gently, "I'm amazed
at you, constable."

"So am I," Kira said dryly. She leaned closer as the static
charges expended themselves. "How do you feel?"

Odo tried to speak, but found himself emitting a croaking
gargling sound which was somewhat distressing. Kira
frowned, but Dax merely squeezed Odo's arm reassuringly.

"You're still experiencing the results of ionic radiation
exposure," she explained. "If it hadn't been for that odd
pocket of gas you were in, I wouldn't have been able to get
a pattern lock. I extracted a lot of the ionic radiation with
the transporter's bio-filter. You should be just fine in time,
but we'll have Julian check you out when we get to the
station."

Odo blinked gratefully at her and Dax seemed to
understand, patting his shoulder and getting up to put her
tricorder aside. Kira pulled back as well, straightening.

"I'll get you to the station as soon as I can, constable. Just
hold on." Her tone was somewhat brusque and Odo found
himself oddly disappointed at her reaction and her sudden
departure.

Neither Odo nor Dax heard Kira's sigh of gratitude as she
sat before the ships controls...or her tearful prayer of thanks
to the Prophets. 

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"I told you, Garak  I don't remember," the Intendant said for
the dozenth time that afternoon, pouting slightly at having
to put up with her insolent second-in-command when she
still suffered from a headache caused by her odd ordeal. 

She reclined on the plush couch in her living room,
attended by two Terran beta-class male pleasure slaves, one
carressing her arms and shoulders gently as she leaned
against him, the other rubbing warmed, fragrant oil into her
upper thighs. Since she wore only a towel, this was not a
difficult task.

According to Weld Ram, Terok Nor's chief Bajoran doctor,
Kira's head wound had been caused by a percussive injury
in the cockpit. As a result, she could not remember a single
salient detail of the days she went missing from the station.
She could not remember being taken on board or the storm
or anything after a staff meeting of two weeks ago.

The resentful Garak had filled her in on events. She had
been kidnapped, taken from Terok Nor during cover of an
ion storm and held for ransom by the Terrans, who had
made laughable demands. He did not bother to tell her of
the bombs on the station since they had either been
removed or the damage caused by them fixed. Nor had he
told her his response to the Terran's demands since he felt
she already knew what he would say to any Terran that
dared to undermine his authority. Now the Cardassian
frowned.

"I thought Doctor Weld was going to attempt doing a
memory scan? If you were taken to their secret base, it is
entirely possible you contain that information in your head
despite the injury which seems to have removed the
memory. This information is vital to our efforts, Intendant."

"Your efforts, you mean," Kira muttered with irritation
now, turning with a sigh to lean against the broad, warm
chest of the Terran male, allowing the other Terran to
begin massaging the back of her legs.
"Yes, my efforts, Intendant," Garak admitted, adding, "And
aren't you glad to have me at your side, taking care of such
insignificant details as the rebellion the Terrans are starting
to foment?"

"Oh, pish," Kira scowled, looking at her Cardassian
second-in-commmand, well aware that what truly bothered
Garak was the fact that she had returned which meant he
would not get to command Terok Nor all by himself as he'd
long desired. 

Not yet, my greedy Cardassian friend, she thought now,
amused. Not until I walk with the Prophets and I don't plan
on visiting them anytime soon...

Before Garak could think of a suitable ripost, Kira leveled
a slanted look at him, then knowingly took tlock as he spoke, his voice dull with detachment.

"She loves...Bareil. He is a man who has devoted his linear
existence to your preservation." 

He found his hand was on the railing of the upper level of
the darkened Promenade, looking down. Bareil and Kira
were in a passionate embrace near the station temple
below. He recalled how he had come upon this passionate
tableaux while patrolling the station late one night and
simply stared at them in inarticulate anguish. Finally he
turned his head away, but the Kira-Prophet stepped beside
him and pointed at the two.

She spoke with certainty. "This one. The Bareil."

Odo merely nodded. "I don't want to see this please."

The Sisko-Prophet frowned. "This is where you exist in the
now."

The Mora-Prophet agreed, "It is the Odo's existence."

The shapeshifter nodded tiredly and replied, "I don't mean
to. I...I can't help it."

The Dax-Prophet considered this, then asked, "The Kira is
like the Sisko? The Bareil is like the Sisko?" 

"Yes," Odo admitted, swallowing down bitterness along
with no small measure of pain as he explained, "she is
humanoid. Bareil is humanoid. I am not."

"You are the Odo, the only?" The Bashir-Prophet asked,
seemingly indifferent.

The anguished shapeshifter merely nodded, suppressing the
sudden, frighteningly powerful desire to roar out his
distress then release his shape to seep away beneath the
flooring of this room; a non-existent room in a non-existent
station which would disappear at the whim of these
Prophets. _Perhaps I would disappear with it,_ he mused
now without humor, trembling as he tried to steady
himself.

"The Kira finds the Odo an object of curiosity, something
to be feared?" The Mora-Prophet suddenly wanted to know. 

"I...I don't know...I don't think so...the Kira...she's always
been...very kind to me...very...very dear," Odo closed his
eyes to calm himself, hearing his voice tremble with barely
repressed emotions. "She considers me...a friend."

"Friend? This is of significance?" inquired the Bashir-
Prophet.

"Yes." He took a breath, found it steadied him. "It is an
honor among...linear-life forms." 

The Kira-Prophet frowned. "Friend. Honor. The Sisko
explained love. Is this the same?"

"No. Love is dstepped up
now, scanner in hand.

He smiled at Odo as he calibrated it. "We knew you could
survive for a period in vacuum, constable, but this is
unprecedented. The only thing I can figure is the ion storm
had properties which enabled you to remain alive."

"I wouldn't call it life," Odo murmured, somewhat abashed,
surprised to discover that he suffered an irrational fear of
finding that everything around him wasn't real, for some
reason. Part of it, he was aware, was that all these too-
familiar people were surrounding him now, much as the
Prophets... He frowned at this odd thought, prompting
Bashir to assess him more closely.

"Any symptom, no matter how insignificant, I want to
know about. Understood, constable?" he demanded, pulling
back a fold of Odo's robe and running the scanner briefly
over his torso. The constable nodded, gripping the blanket
which covered him on the Infirmary biobed tightly. 

Bashir had insisted he actually wear a scanner-friendly
gown for his very thorough examination, so Odo had
formed his Bajoran-fashioned body only for the first time
in a long time. To Odo's surprise he had found wearing the
gown a bit discomfiting.

I don't remember feeling uncomfortable wearing any of the
outfits at the Research Center. Of course, only Professor
Mora and a few of the research assistants ever saw me
wearing anything so... flimsy. What he said though, was, "I
suppose I should be glad I don't remember very much of it." 

"Yes, you should." 

Dax stepped up and took his hand in hers. To his
embarrassed surprise, she lowered her head and kissed his
cheek, whispering in his ear, "I'm glad you're still with us,
constable." Pulling back, she announced, "I've got to get my
report to Chief O'Brien. He said he'd stop by and see you
later. And so will I." Odo nodded and she stepped out of
the Infirmary. 

Bashir merely smiled at this, then inclined a finger at him.
"I'm prescribing five days of rest, constable. NO arguments.
And I fully intend to hear you've spent at least four of those
days in some indolent, utterly lazy manner, quite unlike
your normal self." He stepped back, then added, "I've got
one more scan to run, then I should be able to let you go."

Sisko merely clapped his upper arm in a friendly fashion
and inclined his head, saying in a conspiratorial tone, "I'm
glad you're back with us, constable, and I'm profoundly
glad I don't have to perform a memorial service for you. I
hate having to drag out my dress uniform." He smiled by
way of letting the constable know this was just a little joke.

"I'm glad to be back, commander," Odo murmured.

Sisko nodded. "You can tell me all about it on my return.
Now that this storm business is over, I have to report
regarding the Vorta and those Jem'Haddar we discovered.
Starfleet Command convened a meeting in regards to the
Gamma Quadrant and they're holding off until I can get
there." He turned slightly to the Major and nodded in her
direction, "I'm certain the Major will keep things running
smoothly in my absence."

She nodded back. "That's right, sir. I've got station drills
planned for next week, test our readiness against the
Dominion. Although I think if any of those Jem'Haddar try
getting through right now they'll find that ion storm will
give them a little more trouble than they bargained for."

Sisko paused at this, then smiled with disbelieving
satisfaction, "Major, that idea of yours was inspired. I don't
believe anyone has ever tried to lasso an ion storm before. I
didn't take you for a cowgirl."

"Sir?" Kira frowned from her perch on the other biobed, but
Sisko merely waggled his brows at her, then strode out of
the Infirmary. Odo and Kira watched him leave with
varying degrees of uncertainty, but before either could
comment, Quark stepped in.

"There you are!" he said in his loud, abrasive voice. Odo
would have scowled, but for some reason, the effort
seemed wasted under the circumstances. The Ferengi
barely noticed, declaring, "I knew it! It was just too good to
be true. These Starfleet types can't even respect death. They
had to bring you back somehow."

"Good to see you too, Quark." Odo said wearily, then
dropped his head back against the biobed pillow. I am
exhausted, he realized, wondering when the last time he'd
rested was.

Quark stopped at this and looked Odo over carefully. "You
really must be sick not to respond to that." He looked
around. "Doctor!?"

The Ferengi waved a hand at Bashir who barely looked up
at this intrusion as Quark stepped up to him, looking back
at Odo who watched tiredly from his vantage point on the
biobed. 

"What can I do for you, Quark?"

The Ferengi slipped a latinum strip onto the diagnostic
scanner by Bashir and said, sotto voce, "Take care of him,
Doctor. I wouldn't want some other Starfleet officer taking
over his job. You people have too many pesky regulations." 

Quark stepped out of the Infirmary then, job accomplished
and Odo shook his head and turned to Kira. He had hoped
to have a chance to speak with her, but now she shrugged
apologetically at him.

"I'll drop by and see you later, Constable. Bareil's shuttle is
arriving." 

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

Smiley tensed as Garak's footsteps echoed on the metal of
the ship walkway. He relaxed when he saw the Cardassian.

"What do you want, Garak?" 

"Is the ship space-worthy?" 

"She's seen better, but she'll make it to where she needs to
go." The Terran replied warily. He did not trust the
Cardassian, despite Garak having spared his life. He had
little doubt the price for his life and his freedom would be
very high, perhaps more than he was willing to pay.

"Then you will do just one thing for me, O'Brien, and then
you can leave this station and return to your rabbit life,
hiding in your pirate warrens," Garak informed him now,
not unkindly. He did not wait for the Terran's acquiescence;
slaves did what they were told, they did not agree or
disagree. "You will tell me everything, absolutely
everything, about these last few days that you remember.
Starting with the shapeshifter."

To Garak's pleasure, O'Brien flashed stunned eyes on him,
astonished at the Cardassian's knowledge of events. 

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"Truly a miracle wrought by the Prophets," Bareil intoned
calmly as Kira finished telling him Odo's inexplicable
odyssey. They were now in the turbolift headed for the
Promenade. They had walked from the Docking Ring to the
Habitat Ring, as was their habit since it afforded them more
time to talk together, but then the Vedek had gently
maneuvered the Major into the turbolift, stating he had to
get to the station temple.

Kira had been somewhat disappointed, but now she mused.
"If they did help him, they took their time at it. He was
carried around in that ion storm for almost a week!"

Bareil smiled slightly. "The Prophets exist beyond such
limits as time, Nerys."

Kira sobered at this, suddenly aware of the irreverence in
her statement. "I meant no disrespect."

"Often what we intend and what our actions say do not
coincide." Bareil noted as he got out of the turbolift and
headed down the Promenade toward the station temple.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kira demanded.
Sometimes being with a religious man is very trying...

Instead of answering, Bareil stopped at the entrance to the
station temple and looked at Nerys, tilting his head and
saying simply, "Prylar Zehr'ha recently told me Odo comes
to the station temple sometimes. Usually quite late, to give
some of his salary for the war orphans, but at times Zehr'ha
has found him sitting in contemplation." 

The Major's eyes widened. "She has?"

"It is, of course, a private devotion," Bareil added swiftly,
noting Kira's startled reaction.

She nodded. "Of course. I would never discuss that with
him, but..."

"It seems there is more to your friend than meets the eye,"
the Vedek finished and Kira nodded.

"Every week it seems I learn a tiny bit more about him.
He's the kindest and most gentle man I know." She smiled,
then shrugged. "Present company included. Sorry, Bareil."

"There is no shame in honesty," Bareil responded with a
slight tilt of his head. "I'm honored that you place me in
such esteemed company. I would not find it a dishonor for
you to think of me as you do for Odo."

Kira looked at him then. Her brows met in a slight,
considering look. After a moment, she asked plainly, "Why
did you tell me that, Bareil?"

Bareil smiled. "Guilty. I was simply wondering what your
feelings are towards the constable."

Kira drew in a breath, considered this carefully. After a
moment, she sighed, "He's my closest friend. I trust him
with my life... my self. He would never hurt me. When I
thought he was dead..." She shuddered.

Bareil nodded, a slight edge of sadness in his eyes, even as
he smiled. "It sounds like he has your favor."

Kira merely nodded at this, "Yes, he does. We've helped
each other more times than I can count. I just wish..."

The Vedek lifted a brow, "What, Nerys?"

She shook her head. "I wish I weren't the only one who felt
that way. I wish he would find someone that would care
about him, someone he could be with. He's the most
honorable man I know and he deserves someone very
special. I'd like him to be happy," Kira said succinctly, then
she smiled at the Vedek adding, "just like I want us to be
happy."

Bareil stilled at this. "What we wish and what the Prophets
decree is rarely one and the same."

Kira frowned. "What do you mean?"

The Vedek looked at her, then shook his head, "Just a
saying among the Vedek Assembly. I meant nothing by it.
Will you be in your quarters later, then?"

Kira blinked at this sudden question, but nodded, "I'm just
going to take Odo's things to whatever room the Chief
requisitioned for him, make sure he settles in."

Bareil frowned slightly. "The constable does not have his
own room?"

The Major seemed surprised at this. "No. He doesn't sleep
or eat. He just rests in that bucket of his. He has a space in
the Security Office, but he really needs some better place to
stay until he's recovered."

The Vedek lifted an eyebrow at this. "Only until he's
recovered?"

"Sisko and I have tried to get him to accept crew quarters,
but I think he feels if he leaves the office, that he won't be
able to keep the job somehow," Kira replied with a smile,
adding, "that job is Odo's whole life."

To Bareil's disappointment, she did not seem to perceive
the injustice in what she'd said, merely stating the facts as
she knew them.  Injustice, what an ironic observation in
regards to this good man. He sighed.

"Is something wrong, Bareil?"

"I'm fine, Nerys. I'm glad the Prophets led your friend back
to Bajor."

"Led him back?"

"Of course," Bareil intoned. "Odo is as much a child of the
Prophets as any of us, with the right to all the blessings they
bestow on their children.  Life is the most honorable
blessing of all."

She considered this, then shrugged. For some reason lately,
Bareil's pronouncements seemed only to make her
uncomfortable, although she privately agreed with most of
them. She indicated the temple entrance now.

"I'll see you later, Bareil."

The Vedek nodded at her and before Kira could secure a
kiss from him, he slipped into the darkness of the station
temple, leaving her on the Promenade with a considering
look on her face.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

"There you go, a clean bill of health. Now if you want to
improvise some clothes, constable, I'll take that drafty, old
gown from you."

"Gladly, doctor." 

Odo concentrated and his uniform suddenly appeared
beneath the sleeves of the Infirmary gown. He slipped the
gown over his head, handing it to Bashir who smiled.

"Now that's more like it."

"I agree!" Chief Miles O'Brien's cheerful brogue made both
men turn and he smiled sunnily at them from the Infirmary
entrance.

"It's good to see ye, constable," O'Brien said when he
stepped up, grabbing Odo's hand for a hearty handshake,
and adding cheerfully, "I've requisitioned some quarters for
ye in the Habitat Ring. Section H, Level Four, Room 212."

"Thank you, Chief. I appreciate it."  Odo nodded at him
sincerely, then he paused for a moment, struck by the
sudden odd wish to ask O'Brien if he was going to hold
another Christmas party this coming winter...and imbued
with the sudden notion to ask the Major to accompany him
to it if he was.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Jadzia Dax was completing the report on her and Kira's
recent accomplishment when the comm panel sounded
with an incoming message from Bajor. She frowned at the
unfamiliar origination site; it was not from the office of the
Kai, the Vedek Assembly or any of the Ministers on the
council.

Private calls from Bajor were rare, unless this was a
petitioner who was going to request the presence of the
Emissary, or perhaps a disenchanted loyalist of the
orthodox order who wanted to blame the ion storm on
Starfleet...they seemed to irrationally blame everything else
on Starfleet, Dax thought with irritation, why not the ion
storm, too?

With a deftly tapped sequence on her console, she routed
the call to her science station terminal and activated the
viewscreen. To her surprise, a familiar face looked back at
her: Doctor Mora Pol.

The last time she had seen him, his expression was sober,
but not aggrieved. Now his face was weary, grave and sad.
His voice held an anguished undertone, despite his attempt
at politeness.

"Ah, Science Officer Dax. I'm pleased to see you again."

"Professor Mora. What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I called to speak with the Major. She contacted
me over two days ago in regards to...to the constable
and...well "

"Actually, doctor, I " He held up his hand in a gentle
interruption. She waited. 

"Please, this is difficult for me and I don't wish to intrude. I
know his death must be just as difficult for you on the
station, however "

"Professor "

"Let me finish. The Major said she was going to go through
his effects and she was going to contact me if she found
any personal logs or journals. I've waited, but even if she
found nothing, I would have appreciated a message
informing me.he hand of the
Terran as he gently massaged just under the edge of the
towel she wore and deliberately insinuated it further up.
She smiled.

The Cardassian scowled with dark annoyance and exited
the room snorting in disgust. Bajorans! All they think of is
their pleasures...

He turned and strode down the hall, toward the connecting
bridge to the Docking Ring, burning off some of his anger
with his long angry strides. He wondered now what Kira
would do if she knew what Weld Ram had told him. The
doctor was quite amenable to financial persuasion and had
readily withheld bits of information to the Intendant while
supplying them to the man who paid him well.

According to Weld, the Intendant showed signs of having
engaged in sexual intercourse during the time she'd
forgotten. Moreover, it had not been a forced encounter nor
had it been with either Terran she'd been kidnapped by. Per
Weld, who had studied under the learned Bajoran Doctor
Mora Pol, their Intendant had been fornicating with none
other than Supervisor Odo, the shapeshifter who Garak had
thought was dead now for the last few months.

But I never saw his remains, Garak admitted to himself, I
didn't see him get destroyed as those Klingons stated and
the Intendant and he were lovers once, the only thing Garak
could conclude from this startling information was that the
shapeshifter had changed allegiance and faked his death
and was now working for the Terran rebellion. It would
certainly explain why the Terrans seem to know what we're
up to on Terok Nor as well as why they know when we're
going to try a raid...that shapeshifter could be anywhere, be
anything.

Garak scowled lightly now, uncertain of what the best
action to take was, but deciding there was little else he
could do but continue the somewhat unusual course of
action he'd begun. He strode off the connecting bridge and
onto the Docking Ring, headed for a specd lead to actually
meeting and speaking face to face. If the Prophets will it, it
will be so.

At this thought, the Vedek was filled with a heartening
sense of peace. This pleased him, since peace was what he
worked for.

So it is not the treaty I work toward which has been making
me uneasy, he frowned, then headed for the inner chamber
of the temple where the Tear of the Prophet, more
commonly known as the Orb was housed. I must do this,
even though the Kai cautioned against it.

He frowned now, troubled by this impulse to disobey the
leader he had pledged his fealty to. Winn didn't even want
me to come to the station but I assured her we needed to
provide a good example, give spiritual comfort to the
station's Bajoran residents after this disturbing storm which
caused such havoc on our system. 

Bareil understood Winn's reasoning; it was possible he
might see something in the orb vision which he would
misinterpret as either success or failure. This could then
color his dialect in the upcoming months with the
Cardassians, but the uneasy feeling had persisted for the
last several days until now he found he could not even
enjoy his time with Nerys, filled with an odd sense of
irrational doom. 

Whatever the Prophets show me, all they bestow is as it
must be, he reminded himself. Be it blessing or curse. Even
should it be bleak and unpleasant. One cannot count the
blessings only and disregard the pain. Without pain, there
would be no joy in this life. Without death, no life. And
should death approach me now and call me to it...

Bareil wanted to know this more than anything. It was
important, so that he could spend whatever time he was
able to with the woman he loved. Unlike other men, the
Vedek knew he could easily do this without a hint of
turmoil to contaminate the precious time he had in which
to enjoy Kira's presence. Before I must walk with the
Prophets...if it is to them that I am being called.

Abruptly the Vedek found himself standing before the
cabinet housing the Tear of the Prophet. It was atop an altar
which he now knelt in front of, a slight frown on his face.

Answers. I shame myself by employing vision without
seeing, using words without knowledge. Until I know what
is to happen, I must stop these morbid reflections...
Without fanfare, Bareil opened the cabinet and was
surrounded by swirls of shimmering light. 

I seek answers, oh Prophets. Let me walk in your light...

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

To Bashir's surprise, Garak stuck his head into the
Infirmary a few moments after the constable had exited.

"Doctor, how is he?"

"If you mean my miracle patient, the amazing constable
Odo, he just left. I'm sure you can catch him if you hurry."

"No, actually, I wanted to ask you first..." the Cardassian
paused and Bashir studied him. He seemed rather abashed.

"Of course, so long as it doesn't violate patient-doctor
confidentiality, what can I do for you?"

"Well, it might at that, I guess," the Cardassian sighed, then
simply explained, "I have rather bad news for the constable
regarding a very expensive purchase he made right before
he was lost. He had me hold onto it for him since he has no
quarters of his own. Unfortunately I had placed it in the
storage locker right before the incident with Mister Morn's
trousers...I'm afraid it wasn't salvagable. Should I wait to
tell him? He spent a great deal of latinum on this purchase,
a great deal, and I'd hate to break bad news to him that
might affect his recovery adversely."

Bashir considered this, recalled the Cardassian's behavior
of nearly a week ago and how he had worried it might be
drug-related in the wake of his removal from a pleasure-
induction device. His surreptitious scans of Garak had
revealed nothing and he had begun a pharmacological
study of Cardassian recreational drugs in order to see if any
were not detectable by normal scans. Now he chuckled and
shook his head ruefully. Julian, you are a fool sometimes...
He smiled at his friend now. 

"The constable isn't the only lucky man, Garak. This is a
minor breach of professional ethics, but I think it will
alleviate your concern: Odo can't remember the last two
weeks or so. I seriously doubt he'll remember he bought
anything at your shop."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"Well, here you go," Kira said brightly, pointing out Odo's
belongings on the small table beside the replicator and
adding, "I brought these here. I figured you'd want your
bucket, if nothing else."

"This will be fine, Major. Thank you."

Kira tilted her head at his formal tone and considered him.
He had seemed a bit uncomfortable since she'd found him
heading down the Promenade, taken his arm and led him to
his quarters.

"Odo, is something wrong?" 

He shook his head. "No. I'm fine." 

She considered this, then stepped up to him. To her
amusement, his eyes widened. You'd think I'm going to bite
him instead of just taking his hand.

"Odo. You've spent the last few days fighting for your life,
trapped in an ion storm that would have killed any of us,"
Kira pointed out, adding, "It's alright for you to feel, well...
troubled or disturbed."

He said nothing, merely nodded and she let his hand go, but
she could sense his need to talk. After a moment, he
admitted hesitantly, "There is something I didn't tell the
Commander. It's...not going in my report, either, Major."

When he didn't continue, Kira maintained, "Go on, Odo. I
won't say anything, you know that."

Odo nodded, then dropped his head, troubled. "It's just..."
He looked back up and directly at her, "It's just I have an
impression about speaking to...the wormhole aliens."

The Major stilled. "The Prophets, you mean." Her voice
was deceptively even.

Odo said nothing for a moment, then essayed, "I thought,
perhaps, it was a hallucination I suffered due to my
experience, but the impression remains."

Kira considered this, nodded slowly, thoughtfully, then
perched a hip on the table beside him before speaking. 

"Bajorans believe that if we're in trouble, close to death, the
Prophets will speak to us, walk with us, to help guide us."
She related this in a cautious, respectful tone of voice. Odo
said nothing, and after a moment Kira added, "Some would
say the Prophets guided you back here, constable."

He looked up at this, studied her for a long moment, then
asked her, "Would you, Major?"

To his surprise, Kira smiled and nodded at him. It was so
sincere and cheerful a gesture, and her face was so
overwhelmingly lovely in that moment that Odo's breath
caught in his throat and he had to swallow, two gestures he
had readily achieved after decades of continual practice.
The Major got off the table and solemnly stood in front of
him, then she echoed Bareil's earlier words with sudden
conviction.

"I would say they guided you back because you're one of
their children, entitled to all the Prophets will bestow,
Odo." When he didn't respond, she added, "I'm glad they
did."

Ignoring his look of alarm, Kira slipped her arms around
him then, giving in to the impulse to hug him. I swear
someone would think that I really am going to bite him,
Kira smiled as Odo stiffened in her arms, startled by her
impulsive embrace. For a brief moment, she was stricken
by a profound impression that Bareil was right when he
said the Prophets had brought Odo back. But what if they
had chosen not to?

To Odo's intense surprise, Kira suddenly held him more
tightly yet, resting her head against his shoulder. When she
did not show any sign of letting go, Odo slipped his own
arms cautiously around her; while she had hugged him
twice before, he had not reciprocated either time nor had he
ever hugged anyone else, and he was uncertain about how
careful he needed to be.

He found he was intensely aware of her closeness, the
feeling of her silky hair against his cheek. His expressive
eyes held commingled pain and hope and guilt and he
closed them as he held her just a fraction closer and sighed
almost imperceptibly, remembering what she'd said.

All the Prophets will bestow...am I even a child of the
Prophets as both Kira and the Vedek portend? His eyes
opened at this thought, and Odo carefully pulled back from
the Major, letting his arms drop. Giving in to his unspoken
request, Kira let go as well and looked up at him artlessly
before taking his hands into her own, squeezing them
briefly, tightly. 

"I'm glad, very glad, that you're back here again, Odo." Kira
smiled at him, eyes bright, then her smile grew impish. She
touched his uniform, lightly stroking his chest along the
edge of it. Odo's eyes widened at this intimacy, but he
waited for her to explain her action. "I think I agree with
Jadzia  that collar you had before  it looked very nice on
you and I'd seriously think about adding it to your uniform.
I mean, you are the chief of security, you should have a
nicer uniform than your deputies, constable."

This said, she gracefully exited, leaving him alone for the
first time in a long time, not to mention slightly confused. 
He could not remember what she was referring to, but he
assessed himself in his room mirror now.  With a mental
shrug, he concentrated and fashioned himself a collar.  He
was surprised to discover that it did seem to add an
increased air of authority to his uniform, not to mention a
certain flair. 

He would add it to his outfit, he decided, pleased to be able
to indulge Kira. It is a small thing, and perhaps even...no,
he sighed heavily now, almost with gratitude, almost with
regret.

For a moment there when she touched him, he had been
filled with a confusing sense of hope and incipient desire. It
had been so intense a sensation that he'd nearly succumbed
to it. The Prophets alone knew what he might have done
and he was glad he had waited for her to speak; as it turned
out, she had only been talking about his appearance.

Why on Bajor would he have thought her feelings for him
would change so suddenly?  She had just come from
greeting her chosen, Bareil, and he had no logical reason
for even thinking she might show more than a friendly
interest in him and his welfare.  The ion storm must have
affected him more than he thought; perhaps he did need an
enforced vacation.  He was glad now for a few days of rest
in order to get his confused thoughts in order.

Odo looked around the empty room for a moment, then
went to stand by the viewport, looking at the stars.  He
recalled what Kira had said about the Prophets and about
his being a child of the Prophets, entitled to all they
bestowed on their children.

But am I a child of the Prophets?  If not, then whose child
am I?  Where...to whom do I belong?   He sighed and  laid
a hand on his upper chest.  Beneath his fingers, he felt the
area her head had rested on and the memory of her
closeness made him close his eyes yet again, but this time
with a bittersweet resignation.  If this is truly all the
Prophets will bestow...

He opened his eyes again and gazed at the glittering stars,
points of brightness sprinkled amidst the unending
blackness of space, much as moments like the one he'd just
experienced with Kira punctuated the bleakness of his
existence.  Neither stars nor Prophets gave any answers and
Odo finally sighed, tired, but grateful that he still existed
and could feel his fatigue.

I accept.


~ FINIS ~
------------------------------------

Copyright by Judith Macquinn & Cameron Burnell on story 
content.  Not meant to infringe on copyrights held by
Viacom, Paramount or any other legal holders of Star Trek
copyright. Please do not reproduce for anything other than
personal reading use (including fanzines) without written
consent of the author/s. Comments, questions may be sent
to:  
OdoGoddess@aol.com (Judith Macquinn)
CameronB@juno.com (Cameron Burnell)




constable, I'll take that drafty, old
gown from you."

"Gladly, doctor." 

Odo concentrated and his uniform suddenly appeared
beneath the sleeves of the Infirmary gown. He slipped the
gown over his head, handing it to Bashir who smiled.

"Now that's more like it."

"I agree!" Chief Miles O'Brien's cheerful brogue made both
men turn and he smiled sunnily at them from the Infirmary
entrance.

"It's good to see ye, constable," O'Brien said when he
stepped up, grabbing Odo's hand for a hearty handshake,
and adding cheerfully, "I've requisitioned some quarters for
ye in the Habitat Ring. Section H, Level Four, Room 212."

"Thank you, Chief. I appreciate it."  Odo nodded at him
sincerely, then he paused for a moment, struck by the
sudden odd wish to ask O'Brien if he was going to hold
another Christmas party this coming winter...and imbued
with the sudden notion to ask the Major to accompany him
to it if he was.

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

Jadzia Dax was completing the report on her and Kira's
recent accomplishment when the comm panel sounded
with an incoming message from Bajor. She frowned at the
unfamiliar origination site; it was not from the office of the
Kai, the Vedek Assembly or any of the Ministers on the
council.

Private calls from Bajor were rare, unless this was a
petitioner who was going to request the presence of the
Emissary, or perhaps a disenchanted loyalist of the
orthodox order who wanted to blame the ion storm on
Starfleet...they seemed to irrationally blame everything else
on Starfleet, Dax thought with irritation, why not the ion
storm, too?

With a deftly tapped sequence on her console, she routed
the call to her science station terminal and activated the
viewscreen. To her surprise, a familiar face looked back at
her: Doctor Mora Pol.

The last time she had seen him, his expression was sober,
but not aggrieved. Now his face was weary, grave and sad.
His voice held an anguished undertone, despite his attempt
at politeness.

"Ah, Science Officer Dax. I'm pleased to see you again."

"Professor Mora. What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I called to speak with the Major. She contacted
me over two days ago in regards to...to the constable
and...well "

"Actually, doctor, I " He held up his hand in a gentle
interruption. She waited. 

"Please, this is difficult for me and I don't wish to intrude. I
know his death must be just as difficult for you on the
station, however "

"Professor "

"Let me finish. The Major said she was going to go through
his effects and she was going to contact me if she found
any personal logs or journals. I've waited, but even if she
found nothing, I would have appreciated a message
informing me."

"She's been rather busy, what with the storm coming back.
She and I had to go plot it's course."

"I see. Well, I "

"Then we had to rescue the constable and get him back
here," Dax finished somberly, with no hint of the
amusement she was feeling. She waited.

"Yes, of course, you've had a great deal of  what did you
say?"

"The constable.  Odo?  We found him in the middle of the
storm and we had to bring him back. It kind of tied the
Major up, you see?"

"Odo...Odo's alive?!"

"Thankfully, yes."

"Great merciful Prophets!"

"I'd say so."

"Well, is he...is he all right? No...no residual effects?" Mora
was stammering in his confused relief.

"The doctor thinks he'll be just fine. He suffered a bit of
ionic radiation exposure, a little disorientation and seems to
have a two-week memory gap, but Doctor Bashir and I
think that's more than an acceptable symptom considering
what he's gone through."

"I quite agree." Mora sounded pleased.  Dax waited, but he
said nothing more and she smiled. 

"Did you still want to talk to the Major, Doctor?"

Mora blinked. Then he chuckled and shook his head. "Oh,
no, Lieutenant. I think you've given me a much, much
better answer than I was expecting.  Thank you from a very
relieved and...happy father figure."

"Accepted. With my own gratitude." She smiled wider yet,
then reached for the touch plate and inclined her head at
Mora's image. "A good day to you, Doctor."

"Oh, my, yes!  A wonderful one!  And to you, too!"

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

Bareil completed his private communication with the
Cardassian legate and turned off the console in the small
cubicle within the temple which served as an office for the
Bajoran clerics.

He had been working toward an understanding with Legate
Turrel for weeks. Now he actually found himself looking
forward to speaking with the man, even arguing with him.
Eventually Bareil hoped this would lead to actually
meeting and speaking face to face. If the Prophets will it, it
will be so.

At this thought, the Vedek was filled with a heartening
sense of peace. This pleased him, since peace was what he
worked for.

So it is not the treaty I work toward which has been making
me uneasy, he frowned, then headed for the inner chamber
of the temple where the Tear of the Prophet, more
commonly known as the Orb was housed. I must do this,
even though the Kai cautioned against it.

He frowned now, troubled by this impulse to disobey the
leader he had pledged his fealty to. Winn didn't even want
me to come to the station but I assured her we needed to
provide a good example, give spiritual comfort to the
station's Bajoran residents after this disturbing storm which
caused such havoc on our system. 

Bareil understood Winn's reasoning; it was possible he
might see something in the orb vision which he would
misinterpret as either success or failure. This could then
color his dialect in the upcoming months with the
Cardassians, but the uneasy feeling had persisted for the
last several days until now he found he could not even
enjoy his time with Nerys, filled with an odd sense of
irrational doom. 

Whatever the Prophets show me, all they bestow is as it
must be, he reminded himself. Be it blessing or curse. Even
should it be bleak and unpleasant. One cannot count the
blessings only and disregard the pain. Without pain, there
would be no joy in this life. Without death, no life. And
should death approach me now and call me to it...

Bareil wanted to know this more than anything. It was
important, so that he could spend whatever time he was
able to with the woman he loved. Unlike other men, the
Vedek knew he could easily do this without a hint of
turmoil to contaminate the precious time he had in which
to enjoy Kira's presence. Before I must walk with the
Prophets...if it is to them that I am being called.

Abruptly the Vedek found himself standing before the
cabinet housing the Tear of the Prophet. It was atop an altar
which he now knelt in front of, a slight frown on his face.

Answers. I shame myself by employing vision without
seeing, using words without knowledge. Until I know what
is to happen, I must stop these morbid reflections...
Without fanfare, Bareil opened the cabinet and was
surrounded by swirls of shimmering light. 

I seek answers, oh Prophets. Let me walk in your light...

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)*

To Bashir's surprise, Garak stuck his head into the
Infirmary a few moments after the constable had exited.

"Doctor, how is he?"

"If you mean my miracle patient, the amazing constable
Odo, he just left. I'm sure you can catch him if you hurry."

"No, actually, I wanted to ask you first..." the Cardassian
paused and Bashir studied him. He seemed rather abashed.

"Of course, so long as it doesn't violate patient-doctor
confidentiality, what can I do for you?"

"Well, it might at that, I guess," the Cardassian sighed, then
simply explained, "I have rather bad news for the constable
regarding a very expensive purchase he made right before
he was lost. He had me hold onto it for him since he has no
quarters of his own. Unfortunately I had placed it in the
storage locker right before the incident with Mister Morn's
trousers...I'm afraid it wasn't salvagable. Should I wait to
tell him? He spent a great deal of latinum on this purchase,
a great deal, and I'd hate to break bad news to him that
might affect his recovery adversely."

Bashir considered this, recalled the Cardassian's behavior
of nearly a week ago and how he had worried it might be
drug-related in the wake of his removal from a pleasure-
induction device. His surreptitious scans of Garak had
revealed nothing and he had begun a pharmacological
study of Cardassian recreational drugs in order to see if any
were not detectable by normal scans. Now he chuckled and
shook his head ruefully. Julian, you are a fool sometimes...
He smiled at his friend now. 

"The constable isn't the only lucky man, Garak. This is a
minor breach of professional ethics, but I think it will
alleviate your concern: Odo can't remember the last two
weeks or so. I seriously doubt he'll remember he bought
anything at your shop."

          (-|-) * * * (-|-) * * * (-|-)

"Well, here you go," Kira said brightly, pointing out Odo's
belongings on the small table beside the replicator and
adding, "I brought these here. I figured you'd want your
bucket, if nothing else."

"This will be fine, Major. Thank you."

Kira tilted her head at his formal tone and considered him.
He had seemed a bit uncomfortable since she'd found him
heading down the Promenade, taken his arm and led him to
his quarters.

"Odo, is something wrong?" 

He shook his head. "No. I'm fine." 

She considered this, then stepped up to him. To her
amusement, his eyes widened. You'd think I'm going to bite
him instead of just taking his hand.

"Odo. You've spent the last few days fighting for your life,
trapped in an ion storm that would have killed any of us,"
Kira pointed out, adding, "It's alright for you to feel, well...
troubled or disturbed."

He said nothing, merely nodded and she let his hand go, but
she could sense his need to talk. After a moment, he
admitted hesitantly, "There is something I didn't tell the
Commander. It's...not going in my report, either, Major."

When he didn't continue, Kira maintained, "Go on, Odo. I
won't say anything, you know that."

Odo nodded, then dropped his head, troubled. "It's just..."
He looked back up and directly at her, "It's just I have an
impression about speaking to...the wormhole aliens."

The Major stilled. "The Prophets, you mean." Her voice
was deceptively even.

Odo said nothing for a moment, then essayed, "I thought,
perhaps, it was a hallucination I suffered due to my
experience, but the impression remains."

Kira considered this, nodded slowly, thoughtfully, then
perched a hip on the table beside him before speaking. 

"Bajorans believe that if we're in trouble, close to death, the
Prophets will speak to us, walk with us, to help guide us."
She related this in a cautious, respectful tone of voice. Odo
said nothing, and after a moment Kira added, "Some would
say the Prophets guided you back here, constable."

He looked up at this, studied her for a long moment, then
asked her, "Would you, Major?"

To his surprise, Kira smiled and nodded at him. It was so
sincere and cheerful a gesture, and her face was so
overwhelmingly lovely in that moment that Odo's breath
caught in his throat and he had to swallow, two gestures he
had readily achieved after decades of continual practice.
The Major got off the table and solemnly stood in front of
him, then she echoed Bareil's earlier words with sudden
conviction.

"I would say they guided you back because you're one of
their children, entitled to all the Prophets will bestow,
Odo." When he didn't respond, she added, "I'm glad they
did."

Ignoring his look of alarm, Kira slipped her arms around
him then, giving in to the impulse to hug him. I swear
someone would think that I really am going to bite him,
Kira smiled as Odo stiffened in her arms, startled by her
impulsive embrace. For a brief moment, she was stricken
by a profound impression that Bareil was right when he
said the Prophets had brought Odo back. But what if they
had chosen not to?

To Odo's intense surprise, Kira suddenly held him more
tightly yet, resting her head againhoulPmg  PmgäPmx˜Pmx°šµ
Qϣ)ng go, Odo slipped his own
arms cautious
round her; while she had hugPmf˜him
twice before, he had not reciprocated either time nor had he
ever hugged anyone else, and he was uncertain about how
careful he needed to be.

He found he was intensely aware of her closeness, the
feeling of her silky hair against his cheek. His expressive
eyes held commingled pain and hope and guilt and he
closed them as he held her just a fraction closer and sighed
almost imperceptibly, remembering what she'd said.

All the Prophets will bestow...am I even a child of the
Prophets as both Kira and the Vedek portend? His eyes
opened at this thought, and Odo carefully pulled back from
the Major, letting his arms drop. Giving in to his unspoken
request, Kira let go as well and looked up at him artlessly
before taking his hands into her own, squeezing them
briefly, tightly. 

"I'm glad, very glad, that you're back here again, Odo." Kira
smiled at him, eyes bright, then her smile grew impish. She
touched his uniform, lightly stroking his chest along the
edge of it. Odo's eyes widened at this intimacy, but he
waited for her to explain her action. "I think I agree with
Jadzia  that collar you had before  it looked very nice on
you and I'd seriously think about adding it to your uniform.
I mean, you are the chief of security, you should have a
nicer uniform than your deputies, constable."

This said, she gracefully exited, leaving him alone for the
first time in a long time, not to mention slightly confused. 
He could not remember what she was referring to, but he
assessimself in his room mirror now.  With a mental
shrug, he concentrated and fashioned himself a collar.  He
was surprised to diPmf˜PmfØ

¬eem n
increased air of authority to his orm, nota
certain flair.-

He would add it to0his outfit, he decided, pleased to be able
to indulge Kira. It is a small thing, and perhaps even...no,
he sighed heavily now, almost with gratitude, almost with
regret.

For a moment there ’0½;“Ž¤“ŽTą1„“Žšµ
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Qœ¬‚¬\­R­¬orm must havPmx˜¬<3CjÄore 203.38.0.2 - - [22/Apr/1998:07:33:38 -0500] "GET /users/shannara/asca/ds9/prophet2.txt HTTP/1.0" 200 292428
o get his confused thoughts in order.

Odo looked around the empty room for a moment, then
went to stand by the viewport, looking at the stars.  He
recalled what Kira had said about the Prophets and about
his being a child of the Prophets, entitled to all they
bestowed on their children.

But am I a child of the Prophets?  If not, then whose child
am I?  Where...to whom do I belong?   He sighed and  laid
a hand on his upper chest.  Beneath his fingers, he felt the
area her head had rested on and the memory of her
closeness made him close his eyes yet again, but this time
with a bittersweet resignation.  If this is truly all the
Prophets will bestow...

He opened his eyes again and gazed at the glittering stars,
points of brightness sprinkled amidst the unending
blackness of space, much as moments like the one he'd just
experienced with Kira punctuated the bleakness of his
existence.  Neither stars nor Prophets gave any answers and
Odo finally sighed, tired, but grateful that he still existed
and could feel his fatigue.

I accept.


~ FINIS ~
------------------------------------

Copyright by Judith Macquinn & Cameron Burnell on story 
content.  Not meant to infringe on copyrights held by
Viacom, Paramount or any other legal holders of Star Trek
copyright. Please do not reproduce for anything other than
personal reading use (including fanzines) without written
consent of the author/s. Comments, questions may be sent
to:  
OdoGoddess@aol.com (Judith Macquinn)
CameronB@juno.com (Cameron Burnell)