Prayers Without Words
By Laura Schiller
Based on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Copyright: Paramount
Odo's first impulse was to leave when he saw the Temple wasn't empty.
A single worshiper was already there, sitting cross-legged in front of the large bronze mandala, her arms raised in the Bajoran gesture of prayer. She wore red uniform trousers and a white undershirt. Her jacket was thrown across a nearby chair. The light of two tall candles glinted in her short auburn hair.
She dropped her arms, slumped over, and sighed, a harsh sound in the echoing quiet. That settled it. Now he couldn't leave.
"Major?"
"Damn it, Odo, don't sneak up on me like that!" She scrambled to her feet, grabbed her jacket, and shrugged into it as fast as possible. "Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to … I was just … "
She waved one hand abruptly around the room, as if that explained it.
"Praying?"
"Trying to." She cast a guilty look over her shoulder at the mandala, which resembled the Celestial Temple wormhole in its swirling patterns. "The words won't come."
Odo knew the feeling. He might call himself an agnostic now, but Dr. Mora had taught him to honor the Prophets like any other Bajoran child. Though his feelings about the mysterious aliens were extremely mixed, in times of trouble Odo still found himself at the temple, staring at the mandala to calm down.
"Well, if you can't talk to the Prophets, maybe you can talk to me," he said, coming to stand next to her with his arms behind his back. "I, at least, don't need an Orb to talk back."
She smiled at him, that brave little smile she always used when she wouldn't admit to being miserable.
"Oh, it's nothing. Only that Kai Winn is a disgrace to her title. And my true spiritual leader doesn't want to admit he is one. And because he won't listen to me, the Celestial Temple might be destroyed forever - "
Her voice broke on that last word. She turned away and began pacing like a wild hara cat, making the candles flicker.
"Now hold on!" Odo interrupted. "What do you mean, destroyed?" He remembered his investigation earlier that day. "Is this about that ex-Vedek and his so-called Prophecy?"
"You don't believe me either!" Kira snapped, throwing up her hands. "But it's all fitting together, all of it. Three vipers. Three Cardassians. Peer into the heavens. The new communications array. The Prophecy's coming true, and the Emissary's the only one who can stop it!"
Odo stepped back to give her space as she made another circuit around the room. She explained in rapid-fire speed about Vedek Yarta's warning to Captain Sisko, and the cool Starfleet logic that prevented Sisko from taking it seriously. Her anxiety was catching; it rippled through him like the vibration of her thick-soled shoes. This didn't sound like her.
"No offense, Major, but you're not usually so literal-minded about the Prophecies," he said. "Our three scientific guests have done nothing to deserve being called 'vipers', except have scales, which is hardly their fault. There are dozens of ways you could read that text. You're always arguing about the finer points of theology with - "
Vedek Bareil.
Odo shut his mouth, but it was too late, the name already haunted the room. Kira froze, her back to him, like a paused hologram in the middle of the polished tile floor.
She hadn't so much as mentioned Bareil's name in the weeks since his death. She had simply been quiet for a few days, then back to her usual self – at least, in anyone's eyes but Odo's. She'd been almost too energetic, too cheerful, and he'd picked a fight with her on the journey back from Prophet's Landing just for a bit of normalcy.
The Founder hadn't spoken of Bareil either, all those hours together in the cave. Damn it, she was clever. Unless she simply didn't know. How much did she know?
He found himself frantically scanning Kira with his eyes, looking for any detail out of place, even a small one. Not that there had been any, last time. Was derailing Federation-Cardassian relations something the Founder might do? An unstable Alpha Quadrant could only be to her advantage. She looked like Kira, moved and talked like Kira, even smelled like Kira: clean sweat with a hint of incense and the sterile air of Ops.
Stop this. He fought to calm the whirlpool underneath his skin. It could drive you mad.
Kira's arm went up to wipe her face, abruptly, as if she was crying and ashamed to let him see.
Not like the Founder. The Founder had let tears sparkle down her face on purpose, just to manipulate him.
"The Prophets meant for Bareil and me to be together," she said, in a small, hoarse voice. "The Orb of Change gave us visions of each other. If they planned this whole thing, if they let Winn become Kai … if they let her work him to death because of that peace treaty … "
Suddenly she spun around and glared at the mandala, her bloodshot eyes fierce. "Then they owe me, damn it! The least they can do is give me something I can understand!"
This was the real Kira Nerys, no doubt about it. She was sick of complications, and desperate for things to be clear-cut: a Prophecy that came true, an Emissary who saved the day, Prophets who faithfully watched over their people.
If Odo had a heart, it would have ached.
If he had the Founder's talents, he could become Bareil for her. Odo didn't believe they would have suited each other in the long run; the Vedek had been too much of a politician for someone as blunt and direct as Kira. But there was no denying he had always known the right thing to say. He could have given her the wisdom and comfort she needed.
Odo, however, for all his shapeshifting, didn't know how to be anyone but himself.
"You want to see justice in the way the universe operates. So do I. But it doesn't work that way."
"As if I didn't know that." Tears had made her voice almost as rough as his. "I've known that since I was three. Do you think that helps?"
"Then tell me what does help," he rumbled, feeling for the thousandth time that he would never understand humanoids.
She looked up at him for a long moment. Her makeup ran down her tear-streaked face. Reflected candlelight glittered in her eyes.
Then she launched herself into his arms like a tired child, which he understood even less.
Slowly, and rather stiffly, since he wasn't used to this sort of thing, he lifted his arms and put them around her shoulders. He rubbed circles around her back, as Chief O'Brien sometimes did when carrying a sleepy Molly home along the Promenade.
Her soft hair brushed his cheek. Her warmth began to spread through every drop of him. He could feel her breath, harsh and uneven at first, then slowly steadying. He could sense her heartbeat as if it were his own.
"Sorry about your jacket." She brushed away a tearstain from his chest.
"Never mind. Foreign matter separates out when I regenerate," he said, sounding uncomfortably like Dr. Mora.
The wry, affectionate smile she gave him was another mystery. She must be, he thought, the only person he'd ever met who liked it when he became pedantic.
She took both his hands and squeezed them between hers. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being the best friend I could ever ask for. If ever the Prophets sent me a blessing, it was you."
He didn't know what to say. It took a concentrated effort just to hold his shape, let alone verbalize.
"I know you, ah … you don't like this sort of messy humanoid display," she said, letting go of him and backing up several steps. "So I appreciate it. Really."
"I don't … dislike it … as such."
She blushed to the roots of her hair. "Next time I need to shed tears on someone, don't worry, I'll ask Jadzia."
She was out the door so fast, he didn't even have time to wish her a good night.
He picked up a long-handled snuffer and extinguished the two white candles, leaving the room dark except for some bright red emergency lighting. The mandala on the wall was a study in shadows.
He thought of how this place had looked during Vedek Bareil's visits, how he had lit it up with his charisma and kindness. How Kira had glowed as she followed every word of his sermons. How that glow had vanished, like the candlelight, as Kai Winn had led Bareil's memorial service in this very spot.
Winn hadn't fooled anybody, least of all Odo, by stuttering like a nervous schoolgirl in front of Legate Turrell. The woman was a diplomatic genius; the subtlety of her insults was evidence enough. She hadn't needed Bareil for the negotiations at all. His accident – if accident it was – had been simply a convenient way to get rid of a political rival.
Breaking Kira's heart was just a minor side effect.
"You folks up there had better know what you're doing," Odo muttered to the Prophets.
"If you're playing games with her, gods or no gods, you'll answer to me."