Chapter 5

Odo went back to the infirmary to see how Laas and his "New Link" were recovering. They weren't there. Dr. Monrow was dictating a medical progress summary when he interrupted her.

"Where's Dr. Girani?" he asked, looking around for a face that was familiar, if not a particularly close friend.

The doctor set aside the medical PADD to greet him. "Hello, Odo. Dr. Girani's in the main lab. Dr. Bashir has several extensive long-term experiments running, with the cooperation of the Bajoran Medical Ministry, and we received some new results from the Ministry yesterday and this morning. Dr. Girani's reviewing and organizing the data so it's ready when he returns."

"I see." An additional comment seemed appropriate; after a second, he added, "Dr. Bashir has done a great deal for the Bajoran people as well as those of the Federation."

"So I've learned. Some of his theories are extraordinary - incredibly insightful - but then, I'd expect nothing less from a Carrington nominee. It's fascinating to see the basis for some of his published work and his experiments and efforts in progress - a way to truly understand the man behind the reputation." She broke off, and her expression dimpled into a smile. "But I could go on about that for days, and I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss medical theory and practice."

He gestured past her, toward the empty intensive care ward. "What of my ... Laas and his people?"

"They said they were ready to leave," she reported. "Their medical scans showed clean of the virus; I had no reason not to discharge them."

"So they've gone back to their ship?"

She shook her head. "Actually, they asked if they could stay here for a day or two - just to make sure they had no relapse, as Laas put it. I agreed that it was a good idea. We gave them quarters in the habitat ring, level 4-7. They said one suite was enough, so they're all together."

"Ah." He turned to leave.

"Do you need directions- Oh, that's right, you're familiar with the station lay-out."

"Yes, I am. But ... thank you for the offer, doctor, and the information." Odo was surprised that they had stayed on the station. But when he thought about it, he suspected he knew the reason why.

It didn't take long to reach level four in the habitat ring. Odo wasn't surprised the "New Link" was sharing quarters. He suspected they had spent enough time as solids in the past few months that they would be Linked as much as possible for the time being.

There was no station security - Emyn had taken him at his word that they wouldn't be needed - but two Cin'tisali birif'ali were patiently waiting outside, one of them cross-legged and sitting on the floor to one side of the door, the other standing directly before the door. The honored servitors - the closest definition to their word "birif" that he could think of, somewhere between aides and body servants, a position of high honor and trust, he recalled - welcomed him respectfully.

"Founder Odo," said the standing male, humbly lowering his head. His long braids swung, all but concealing his expression.

"You are Birif'satar, I believe? You stand beside Laas?"

He bowed his head again. "I am honored that you recall me, Founder Odo. Do you wish to enter?"

"Yes."

Birif'satar stepped aside and touched the doorplate to allow him access. The other Cin'tisal remained seated, but attentively watched him pass.

"Thank you." The door swished open before him; Odo entered the Founders' quarters.

He glanced around. The usual habitat quarters for guests - he found that comforting. All of the furniture appeared standard, simple and uncluttered, intended to appeal to the widest range of humanoid tastes possible, or at least to offend as few beings as possible. Bland carpeting covered much of the floor, with a thicker rug between the couch and several chairs; the floor in the dining area was uncarpeted. There was a pleasant starscape picture on the near wall, hanging over a small, functional table; a pair of similar but smaller images decorated the adjoining wall. The viewport faced the Wormhole. As he glanced, he caught a sudden swirl of fireworks as the Wormhole opened for a half-second, then closed.

He looked around again, wondering if Laas and his people were here in the main living space, or in the bedroom. Perhaps they were even in the multi-species hygiene facility - they didn't need it for any other purpose. They could be anywhere, anything, and he was sure they would take advantage of the opportunities to shift into the various items in their quarters, especially after the months of their illness when they had likely been unable to change shape at all.

He recalled a night's delirious pleasure in shape-changing into nearly every item in his quarters, when he'd first regained his ability to shift from the dying infant Foundling. He'd spent hours changing his form, until he was so exhausted he'd collapsed into a pool on his couch, seeping between the cushions and spending the rest of the night there.

"Laas. It's me, Odo. I know you're here, and you know I'm here," he called.

The bowl on the small table under the large picture suddenly fell in on itself, cascaded to the floor in a small ooze-fall, and firmed up into Laas.

"Hello, Odo. I wondered how long it would take you to seek us out again." Laas was healthy, his features smooth and even, a certain fluidic life gleaming in his eyes.

"Are the others here?" Odo scanned the room again, waiting for the telltale evidence of something solid losing its coherence for just a second, betraying their location.

"No. Only you and I. D'kem'ir and Arlamar are ... out."

"Out? I wouldn't have taken them - or you - for the exploring tourist type."

"We're not. Arlamar took his birif'al to retrieve something from the infirmary, and D'kem'ir ... had another errand. I didn't expect to see you here, but I'm pleased you've come. Come, let us commune. Link with me." He held out his hand eagerly.

A beat.

"I'm sorry," Odo said, making no move to join him.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"For infecting you, and the others."

Laas lowered his arm. "It wasn't your doing. We don't blame you. You didn't know. The fault is with the solids who created the disease and deliberately infected you, to wipe us out."

"Not all solids bear the fault," Odo reminded him. "Only the few."

"So you say. But I believe those who wished us harm in their thoughts and words are as guilty as those who deliberately set out to destroy us," Laas said stubbornly.

"So intentions are as culpable as actions?" Odo watched as Laas moved to the couch. "Our people planned to exterminate the humans when the war was won, because they were too independent and stubborn to dominate. Because they would be leaders and supporters of any attempt to overthrow the Dominion. Because their annihilation was seen as necessary to maintain control of the Alpha quadrant. It would seem we are as guilty as the solids of plans for genocide - the only difference is that they planned our extinction as part of their war policy, while our people would have beaten the Federation down first and then obliterated the human solids when they could no longer defend themselves."

"And our people could defend themselves against that disease?" Laas challenged. "They couldn't! If the Cin'tisali had not known of the disease and of Dr. Bashir's cure, we would have died without ever knowing what was killing us!"

"We might argue the timing of each side's decisions and strategies to no conclusion - each side was guilty of murderous intent."

"The New Link," Laas observed, "wishes only to be allowed to exist in peace. We have no desire to exterminate anyone - only to be left alone to live as we wish."

"So you say," Odo threw back at him.

"Odo-" He paused. "These words cause misunderstandings between us. Link with me, Odo. Let us understand each other truly."

"I ... don't know. You didn't seem ready for me to remain linked with you, in the infirmary."

"Do you call us your enemies?"

"No-"

"You join the Great Link, spreading your being and knowledge through our entire race, but you will share nothing with us."

"I showed the Great Link that the solids were not all our enemies, and that peace was possible between our peoples. There was no need for the war, as they had believed. I am not sure what you believe, or what you wish to hear."

"Does a lack of need for war translate to automatic need for peace with those you cannot trust?"

"I have known many solids I would trust with my life. Not all, of course - but then, you do not trust other Founders, so your distrust of solids is perhaps not so strange," Odo replied pointedly. "I would say trust is not your strong point in any respect."

"No, it is not. Perhaps when you have lived as long as I, you will recognize that trusting too easily is a mistake."

"I see no need to assume that someone cannot be trusted. There are solids who have demonstrated that they can be trusted and relied upon, in any situation." At Laas's skeptical look, he continued. "For an example even you cannot contest, Dr. Bashir, who cured our people of the Founders' disease - the one whose help you sought in coming here."

"To cure us of the very disease his own people created."

"Admitted. But evidence enough, I think, of the potential for trust and peace between us."

Laas shook his head. "Your Dr. Bashir showed that he was not the enemy of the Founders. But might he in time come to regret his act of mercy toward enemies?"

"No." Odo was adamant. "Wise or not, Dr. Bashir will never regret saving others, even those labeled enemies by his own government, even those who have been responsible for much death and destruction."

"I doubt he would be so kind if he had suffered personally at their hands."

"Dr. Bashir was kidnaped by our people, held captive on one of our prison asteroids, and impersonated by one of us with the express goal of wiping out the entire Bajoran system, murdering his friends, and destroying the Federation, Klingon, and Romulan fleets. His personal history suggests his dedication and conviction are above question in this matter."

"All beings have their limit."

"Not Dr. Bashir. Not in the way you imply. And I believe there are many others who think and would act as he did."

Laas's expression was cool, but his words were placating. "If you believe so, then I must believe so. But can you be so sure of other solids?"

"Yes."

Laas tilted his head. "You're thinking of your Kira."

"Among others." Odo clasped his hands behind his back - a symbol of his current refusal to link - and moved to the viewport. He stared out at the stars and the region of the now non-visible Wormhole. "Of course, I notice you must trust some solids as well."

"What do you mean?"

"You've taken the Cin'tisali as ... servants and crew. I wouldn't have expected to see you acting so ... Founder-like."

"They seek someone to serve. We have needed someone to help us."

"Just like the Dominion. Just like the Founders. You are not so different."

"The Cin'tisali came to us - stranded here with the end of the war, abandoned, just as we were, by the ones they trusted, left to find their own way home or to die here. And we are different from the Great Link. We would never send away our children to live or die alone among strangers."

"How many others have you gathered to serve you, besides them?"

Laas didn't respond.

"Have you gathered Jem'Hadar as well? And perhaps Vorta to control the Jem'Hadar?" he asked shrewdly.

"If you are so interested in knowing who we have gathered to the New Link, you need only come with us," Laas replied.

"My interest is of little relevance - but there may be others here in the Alpha Quadrant with ... a great interest in knowing what kind of world you are establishing for your New Link, and where it is, and who serves it. And their interest may not bode well for you, if they are uncertain or fear what you may do in the future. Do you have Jem'Hadar? Are some of them aboard that ship out there right now, that can't be scanned because of your shields?"

"Odo...." he began placatingly.

"Do you intend to be any different from the Great Link? You have derided them repeatedly, just in this conversation. You refuse to return to them, and you cannot dispute that their intentions were as evil as those who created the disease that nearly obliterated us. You claim you will be different from them. Tell me, Laas, how will you be different?"

Laas finally joined him at the window. "I'm not sure, Odo. But I know we will be different. Because we want to be. And...." He half-turned to face Odo. "Because I believe you can make us different."

"How can I change what you have decided to be?"

"By joining us. Odo, you came here to cure us. You gave us back our existence. Now give us a future," he pressed. "You say you have learned to trust and to make peace. You say you brought that wisdom to the Great Link. Bring it to us, too. Teach us. Be one of us. We are more truly your kind than any of the Founders in the Gamma Quadrant. We are fellow orphans of the stars, we understand each other. Where more do you belong?" His frustration was obvious in his voice.

Odo stared out through the port. Laas's argument had merit. But he was still needed in the Great Link. There was still much he had to teach them, and much they had to teach him, of their history and being. There were so many lives in the Great Link, he had barely begun to know them. How could he leave them? He didn't want to leave, not now.

But he could convince Laas and his people to return to the Great Link, if he stayed with them. He could show them how important it was for them to bring their experiences home, as he had - to teach their parents to find emotional healing with their own kind. Who better to explain and demonstrate why it had been so dangerous and painful to send out their children on their own? Who better to prove to the Founders that their decision had been wrong, that knowledge was gained by reaching out as adult beings with open minds, willing to experience the universe and its beings, not by sending out unformed, bewildered children with no choice or ability to deal with what they experienced?

On the other hand, perhaps refusing to join Laas would force the New Link to make a decision sooner, to return home. Knowing he had been through the same abandonment they had, maybe they would be able to step back from their pride and hurt, and follow him.

"I ... will have to think about it," he said. "We can discuss it ... later."

"We can discuss it any time you wish," Laas said quickly. "Only give us time to explain. Give yourself time to think. We can wait as long as you need."

Disturbed by the brief conversation with Laas, Odo headed back tor the Promenade. He suddenly felt exhausted, and unwilling to deal with anyone else on the station. But he realized he had no idea where to go, short of sitting at Quark's for the rest of the afternoon. For a few moments, he simply wandered.

At an intersection in the corridors, he spotted a wall comm. Having no combadge, he used it. "Odo to Ops."

"Ops here," came back a prompt, unfamiliar voice.

"This is Odo," he repeated awkwardly, hating that he felt so out of place, so disordered. "I was wondering if I'd been assigned quarters on the station yet." Or at all, he wondered.

"Yes, sir. Colonel Kira assigned you quarters in habitat level three, 3-14."

Right down the corridor from her own; he was practically standing before the door.

"Thank you ... uh...."

"Ensign Kuhlman, sir," responded the crisp young voice.

"You don't have to 'sir' me, Ensign. I'm not Starfleet and I'm no longer station personnel."

"Uh, yes ... Odo."

Smiling in spite of himself, he shook his head and headed down the corridor.

As he passed Kira's quarters, the door slid open.

"Hello, Odo," he heard a familiar voice call. "Come in."

"Nerys," he said, startled. "I thought you'd be on duty."

"Can't I take a little time off for you?"

He followed the voice in. Kira was dressed in a gown he'd never seen before - like nothing he'd ever seen her wear before. It was a deep green color, sleeveless and strapless, with an overdress of some exotic, all-but-sheer fabric. As she moved to stand before her personal shrine, the gown shimmered in the candle light. When she turned again, he saw the underdress was slit almost to her waist, and there were slashes through it that revealed as much flesh as ... as the clothing the Bajoran "comfort women" had been forced to wear under the occupation. It was totally unlike Kira.

"Nerys...."

She smiled invitingly, following his frank stare. "It's new. Do you like it?"

"I'm not sure I understand the point of it," he replied bluntly.

"It's clothing," she shrugged, a fluid motion that drew attention to her shoulders. The gown slid across her skin like a living thing, seeming to caress her as it shaped itself to her body. "What other point does it need?"

"It's not like you."

"No?" She curled her lips in an appealing pout. "Are you saying I'm not allowed to change, not even for the one I love?"

That threw him off. "You ... were so clear that you were not asking me to change. What makes you think I want you to change?"

She stepped closer to him. Odo felt puzzled and disturbed by her seductive sway. What was Kira trying to prove? With a sultry smile, her bare arms snaked around his neck - and began to melt into him.

With a start, Odo jerked away, staring at her, realizing. It was the female Founder. He caught her shoulders and shoved her to arms'-length.

"D'kem'ir!" he blurted, appalled.

"Yes," she giggled coquettishly. Where he touched her, her flesh softened into golden ooze. His fingers sank into the mass as it seeped around his grip, and for a second it seemed natural and tempting to respond in kind, and link with her. But....

"Take another form," he ordered icily, refusing to be drawn into her. "Solid. The one you came here with. Now."

"If that's what you want...." she said archly.

"Do it," he said sharply.

"Oh, all right!" Kira's features blurred again, then reformed and darkened as D'kem'ir became once again the Orion animal woman she had been for many years - green-haired, green-skinned, exuding sensuality and invitation.

"What are you doing in Colonel Kira's quarters?" he asked harshly, ignoring the invitation. "How did you get in here?"

"I was waiting for you. And the Colonel's quarters are programmed to admit her. She was easy enough to become," she concluded insolently.

"Why are you here?"

"To talk to you."

"You could talk to me anywhere. Anywhere but here." He gestured around. "These are Kira's private quarters. You shouldn't be here."

"I wanted to prove something to you."

"What? That you can imitate Kira?"

"Yes. That I can be your Bajoran, in the ways that matter - enough to delude even her own station's technology. And I am a Founder. I could give you the best of both. In a sense, we can bring her into the Link with us. Since you seem so ... dedicated to your solid. After all, if what the solids call 'pleasures of the flesh' are so important to you, I've had a lifetime of training and experience - the ones who found me made sure of that." The anger and contempt in D'kem'ir's voice were obviously intended to cut deep, but like a blade slashing air, missed him.

Still recalling the Cardassian occupation, and the uses to which so many Bajorans had been put, Odo replied, "And do you think the solids do not enslave each other and their own?"

"They do, oh, they do, and they think nothing of it! I don't know how you can want anything to do with them and their ways! Callous slavery...."

"Have you forgotten the Jem'Hadar, the Vorta, the Cin'tisali, and all the other races the Dominion has brought under its sway and changed at their very core to make into better and more devoted slaves - and the ones who serve you, that you treat with such contempt?"

"They are solids."

He was getting tired of having to defend his relationship with Kira and his respect for other beings. "Get out of here," he ordered flatly.

"Or what?" she responded. "We are Founders, we don't threaten each other."

"Are you sure?" The little smile was almost dangerous. "You forget, I'm the only Founder to kill another Founder."

"You-" D'kem'ir's voice died. She stared at him incredulously. "Founders don't harm one another!"

"Laas didn't tell you that about me? That I was cast out of the Great Link and made solid myself for a time as punishment for killing one of 'our own'?"

"No-" A beat. "Yet another reason to stay with us rather than return to them."

"While you play games like a solid on one of your own people? You don't know what it means to be a Founder!" His patience was gone. He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the door. At the physical touch, she first tried again to link with him; he adamantly retained solid physicality. Then she tried to pull back from him. Just outside the door, he let her go; she almost fell against the far wall.

"Odo!" she flared, enraged.

"If Laas put you up to this, tell him you failed. If he didn't send you here, I give him far more credit and respect than I will ever give you. If you do this again, it will be the last time you see me - but you will not be pleased at what I do first. And if I ever find you in Kira's - or anyone else's - quarters uninvited again, I will turn you over to the authorities here. Believe me," he finished contemptuously, "they can and will hold you."

He turned away, ignoring the string of creative Orion profanities that followed him.

At the nearest cross-corridor, he stopped at another wall comm. "Odo to security office."

"Constable Emyn here," returned a prompt voice.

For just a second it sounded wrong. Then: "Constable, I ... suggest you place a guard on Colonel Kira's quarters as long as Laas and his people are here, and perhaps on the other senior officers' quarters as well," he said bluntly. Emyn had been right about the potential for trouble; better to circumvent any future such actions, by removing the opportunity.

There was a second's silence. "On what grounds?"

"To avoid ... misunderstandings."

Another pause. "I ... see. Any other areas where ... misunderstandings ... are possible?"

"I'm sure you have any other areas under control."

"I'll make sure."

"You may also want to search Kira's quarters. To avoid any other ... misunderstandings."

"I'll do that, too. Thank you, Odo."

He went to his assigned quarters to think. As he did, it suddenly occurred to him. D'kem'ir couldn't have known I'd be in this corridor. What was she really doing in Kira's quarters?

Chapter Six

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