The Last Temptation of Odo – Chapter 4
By
Creek Johnson and Nance Hurt
Disclaimer: We are but fleas on the elephants' posterior that is Paramount.
No infringement on their rights is intended. We hope none is taken.
Kira Nerys had long ago tuned out the constant complaining of the Cardassian Envoy who insisted on continuing his diatribe outside of the wardroom. Knowing full well it would do no good, she gave the turbolift call button another jab. Damn Cardassians, she thought, some things never change, as arrogant as ever. She never thought she would live to see the day when she would long for the company of Garak. The Station's former tailor and sometime spy was a lot of things, but he was never dull.
After what seemed to her a lifetime, the doors to the lift opened to reveal a ride almost crowed to capacity. Quickly squeezing in, she gave the Envoy an apologetic shrug as the doors slid shut leaving him behind. Finally alone with her thoughts she allowed herself to give way to the disappointment she had felt welling up inside her all day. They had received a badly garbled message from Julian Bashir that morning. From what anyone could gather, the team had arrived on KuruTame in good time and would be sending further reports as things progressed. She had hoped for some word from Odo but no message had been forthcoming.
She was pulled out of her thoughts as the lift slid to a stop and the majority of its passengers exited. Sighing, she took a step back, grateful for the extra room. Damn you, Odo, she thought and in the same breath whispered a brief reminder to the Prophets for his safekeeping.
"Do not turn around," said a voice behind her. Kira froze, half expecting an assault of some kind to follow.
"I have changed my appearance since we last met," continued the voice. "And I do not wish to be recognized in this form."
She recognized the voice. It was Pilgrim.
"What the hell are you doing here?" demanded Kira. In all the time Odo had been back on the Station, neither of them had heard a word from his Alpha Quadrant relations. It was their silence, in her opinion, that contributed a great deal to the depression Odo had suffered following his return to the Station.
"I have business on the Station and I had hoped to make contact with Odo. You sent him away. Do you really think that was wise?"
"I could ask you the same question," she replied shortly, her anger rising. "I…"
"Events had over taken us." Pilgrim cut off her reply. "And there have been preparations to be made…"
"Events," she demanded. "What events?"
"We assumed you knew." He seemed genuinely surprised.
"Do I look like I own a crystal ball?"
"I see. I assume you have access to Odo's messages."
"What if I do?" Kira was growing tired of this game.
"Then I suggest you read them," he replied. "The walls may have ears," he added reluctantly as though some sort of explanation was necessary.
"Just what the hell is this all about?"
"I believe this is your floor." The turbo lift slowed. "Read the messages, Colonel. We will be in contact."
She stepped out of the lift and turned to face Pilgrim, to demand an explanation.
The lift was empty.
The paper giant hung from its pole, the lanterns that illuminated it glowed softly in the dark, and the accordion pleated arms and legs swung softly in the breeze. Vivian Landis looked over the campfire to see the field around her dotted with similar fires by which she could make out figures moving to and from one camp to another. Quiet conversations and occasional bursts of laughter floated on the breeze.
"We understand your plight," said Asahi, the leader of this particular band of pilgrims. "However we can only counsel patience."
Vivian nodded her head and looked at the group surrounding the campfire. They all had the same hunched shoulders, short necks and curiously V shaped heads topped by black hair that seemed to grow in spikes. She had learned since their first encounter that they were all Higoshi, the people of the Eastern Prefecture, on pilgrimage to the Capital City in honor of the Spring Festivals. The people that made up this particular group were all from the Southern tip of the Eastern Prefecture. Pilgrims from the other populated areas were supposedly days behind them.
Vivian mindful of the Prime Directive, even though First Contact had been made, had been hesitant to divulge too much information about their mission. Thankfully travelers, even those clearly not from the area, were common among the Higoshi. Once she had explained that she had somehow been separated from her traveling companions, offers of assistance and aide had been forthcoming.
"But surely," she said. "There must be some form of mass transportation…"
"Of course," replied Asahi with a certain amount of pride in his voice. "We Higoshi are very modern. Our rivers team with all manner of passenger craft, we have trains, and even air transport."
"But just not at this time of year." concluded Vivian. "As is your custom, I understand. But there must be some way I can try to locate my companions."
"Perhaps," volunteered the owner of the campfire, a young woman named Jubei. "You would consider traveling with us. No matter where your friends are, they will most likely come across others like us and will arrive in the Capital in time for the Festival."
Her suggestion was met with general approval of the small group around the campfire.
"Jubei is correct," agreed Asahi. "It is the only sensible thing to do."
Vivian was about to protest when in the distance she heard the chatter of a large bird. Well, she thought, I hope you are right.
Despite the difficulties he had encountered with the tricorder, Julian Bashir was thankful for a working dermal regenerator. Once he had realized that the, for lack of a better word, bandits were not wearing camouflage but in fact looked like the rocky region in which they dwelt, he was slightly more comfortable treating them. In fact, the more familiar he became with their physical presence, the more he came to believe they had much in common with other humanoid species.
"And how did you manage to do this?" he asked, eyeing the nasty scrape presented to him. "Bekko is it?"
Bekko grinned. At least Julian assumed it was a grin, he was still having trouble interpreting the facial expressions of his…what were they…captors?
"I fell down a slope while drilling," he replied. "It is my shoes. I am afraid they are not so good."
Julian glanced briefly at the rather scuffed leather footwear and noted the soles looked almost new. "And do all, I'm sorry I do not know what to call you, do all of your people wear such shoes?"
"We are Minami," replied Bekko with pride. "The bandits of Minami Prefecture."
"I see. Well, that scrape looks painful. I would suggest you try not to fall down anymore."
"My wife," said Bekko somewhat shamefaced as he watched Julian go to work with the regenerator. "My wife told me not to wear them, but I did not listen."
"You're married?" Julian looked around the camp and so far had only seen what he assumed were men.
"Oh, she's not here!" There was a note of laughter in Bekko's voice. "She says that in this day and age this is just foolishness. You should meet her, you have much in common, she too…."
"Bekko!" said Houk as he approached. "Enough talking. Your wife is correct, the way you fight is foolishness." Julian had quickly learned Houk was the leader of this band and that the short Minamian had a tendency to speak in capital letters.
"Doa," Bekko replied hanging his head. "I will endeavor to do better."
"See that you do."
As Bekko paused to bow to Julian before scurrying off the join the others, Houk remained behind. "Come, Doctor," he said. "It is almost time to depart."
"Depart?" asked Julian. "Depart where?"
"It is the Spring Festival!" said Houk as though the question was ridiculous. "The pilgrim caravans are on the move to the Capital! We have much business with the caravans!"
What the hell have I gotten myself into, thought Julian as he packed up his instruments. And if I'm stuck with bandits, then what must the others be facing?
Quark was not sure what was worse, the wolf like creatures with their sharp teeth or the large animal before him with its gimlet eyes and flaring nostrils. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the worst.
"Do not move," commanded a voice and for a moment Quark thought the beast spoke. His ears heard a rustling sound just beyond the beasts' head followed by a loud twanging noise. Hearing a yelp from behind him, he spun just in time to see one of the creatures fall, some sort of projectile piercing its side. The remaining members of the pack scattered.
Quark screamed.
"You should have done that sooner," said the voice jovially. "A voice like yours would scare away all the creatures of the forest."
Quark spun around to face the speaker. The large beast had turned slightly and he could see a person sitting astride it. The man leapt off the beast and faced Quark. The man did not stand up as much as he seemed to unfold. To Quark's eyes the stranger was huge, almost naked, and made entirely of bulges. His legs bulged, his arms, his neck, his chest, even his head was just a series of bulges.
Quark blinked, swallowed hard, and looked again.
Bulges everywhere except for one notable exception… Quark, realizing where he was staring, shook his head and concentrated on looking the man in the eye.
"What have you to say for yourself?" demanded the man.
"Thank you?" Quark squeaked.
"Not at all. You must be brave to travel the forest at night."
"No. Just lost."
"Ah." He turned and removed some of his belongings from the back of the beast. "You managed to find a good place to camp. I will camp here with you." He dumped his belongings on the ground. "And who are you?"
"Quark. And you are?"
"I am the poDosai," he replied grandly. "But you may call me Ty-ni."
Quark covered him mouth trying hard not to laugh. He looked at the still quivering body of the wolf, then back to his rescuer. It was no use. He laughed hysterically.
Odo laughed bitterly as he looked at his cell. Iron bars dusted with rust, a lock even the most inept of criminals could pick. It looked no more secure than the small tool shed located in the garden of the Institute on Bajor where he had spent his early years. Giving the bars a tentative shake, he noted the entire structure shook in sympathy.
He turned to his companion. She sat quietly on one of the makeshift bunks, her eyes closed in meditation. He noted she looked like the rest of the villagers, square shouldered, long impossibly thin neck, curiously V shaped head topped with black hair that seemed to grow in spikes. Only her costume marked her as different. Since his incarceration, she had not uttered a word, seemingly content with her fate. Uttering an impatient snort, he resumed his pacing.
"Take one step or a thousand," she said eventually. "Your journey will only take you back unto yourself."
"I beg your pardon?"
She merely smiled and glanced at his feet.
"I pace," he said slowly. "Because I have no idea why I am being incarcerated."
"You are being incarcerated because they have no idea what to do with you. They have no idea who you are, or who you represent, and you defeated their champion."
"The man was drunk and armed, even if it was with just a piece of wood, he was certainly going to hurt himself much less any innocent bystander."
She covered her mouth to hide a slight giggle.
"I had no idea he was their champion," continued Odo. "What does it matter anyway? All I wish to do is leave."
"It matters," she replied. "As the entire economic livelihood of the local industry depends on who defeats the champion."
"What?"
"You have no idea what is transpiring here do you?"
"None what so ever."
She looked at him with interest. "A stranger in a strange land."
"Yes?"
"Very well," she replied as though dealing with a particularly ignorant child. "This is the village of Sanshoka in the Hoka Prefecture. The people of this village are toy makers."
"Toy makers?"
"Yes. Woodwork is the traditional industry of the Northern Prefectures. This village makes toys."
"And?"
"You defeated their champion."
"This makes no sense," cried Odo. "What have toys got to do with some inebriated toy maker…?"
"You defeated…."
"I defeated their champion, yes I know…"
"You must now represent the village in ritual battle in the Capitol City."
"What?" He nearly sputtered in frustration. "I will do nothing of the sort."
"If you do not," she replied evenly. "The village will forfeit all rights to distribute their toys and will fall prey to the thievery of the secondary markets. It will mean financial ruin."
"You don't understand," he pleaded. "I can not do this. In the first place I have never used a weapon in my life and I am not about to start now. Secondly, I…I have urgent business of my own to attend to."
"I am sure the villagers will understand."
"Why can't you do it?" he asked, a note of desperation in his voice. "You are one of their own."
"I am not from this village," she replied. "I am as foreign to them as you."
"That's not stopping them from considering me their new champion."
"I am also a master of jutuBa. I pledge my sword to no one."
He was about to ask her exactly what a jutuBa was and why that prevented her from doing anything, when the door to the outer area opened and three men entered. Odo recognized the leader of the group as a man called Rufuki.
"We have discussed the situation thoroughly," he said approaching the cell. "And we have no choice but to present you with our jutuBa and entreat you to represent us well."
Odo felt the walls close in on him. "Look," he said. "I know what this means to you, but I can not do this. I don't know how to do this. You would all be much better off finding someone else…"
The group looked crestfallen. "We expected as much," said Rufuki. He turned to the others. "We can only pray that the Founder will have mercy on us."
"Founder?" The words were out of Odo's mouth before he could stop himself.
"Yes. All villages not represented at the Festival gathering in the Capital are left to the mercy of the Founder. Someone from the village must be elected to plead our case to the Vorta. It will not be easy."
"And your champion?" Odo asked. "Will your champion be allowed to see the Vorta as well?"
"Oh, yes," replied Rufuki. "And if successful in defeating the Jem'Hadar in ritual combat the champion will meet the Founder."
"I'll do it," said Odo. "But someone will have to teach me what to do and I will not use a weapon."
The dawning of hope died on the faces of the villagers. "But no one has ever won without a sword," protested Rufuki.
"Give him the sword," said Odo's cellmate. "I will teach him."
"You?" asked Rufuki. "But you pledge your sword to no one but the poDosai…"
"I will not be pledging my sword," she replied flatly. "But because you have remained true to the old ways, I will not stand by and allow this stranger to dishonor yours."
Odo stood back as Rufuki opened the cell. His cellmate remained as passive as ever.
"I suppose I should thank you," he said.
"My name is iSamu," she said rising serenely from the bunk and floating past him. "And save your thanks for I am a hard master."
Odo didn't care as long as it got him close enough to the Founder to make a difference and if possible he could find some way to get Quark and the others to safety.
Kira stood and started to walk away from the computer console but caught herself in mid stride and turned back. She had been doing this for some time, torn between a desire to know what Pilgrim had been referring to so cryptically and not wishing to violate Odos privacy.
On the other hand, she thought if it would in some way shed light on his recent behavior…
With a sigh, she once again sat in front of the console and quickly entered his code before she changed her mind.
There were hundreds of messages. She quickly scrolled through them. Aside from a dozen or so messages from people she knew, the rest seemed to be official requests of one sort or another. She bit back a bitter laugh; little did they know Odo's true status as far as the Dominion was concerned.
Thinking this would get her nowhere; she ordered the computer to display the last message Odo had actually opened.
With a bleep of confirmation, the computer complied.
With Gevrik's clam voice sounding in her ears, she turned to stare sightless out the view port.
"Damn you, Odo," she said, wiping away a tear.