Burned by the Dark
The next day, Janeway called me into sickbay to debrief Iliana.
The former Obsidian Order agent looked well enough. Her wound had healed and Kes expected to release her by the end of alpha shift. She sat propped against a pillow on the biobed, her expression a mix of annoyance and disinterest as Janeway, Tuvok, and I shuffled in between her bed and the privacy field.
"Computer," Tuvok said, "secure the area around biobed two, authorization Tuvok-theta-nine."
The computer trilled. "Voiceprint authorization confirmed. Biobed two security field in place."
"Begin recording."
Another trill in confirmation.
Iliana crossed her arms.
Janeway read the unspoken message in Iliana's gesture. "Alright, let's cut to the chase. Who sold the Brenari out to the Devore?"
"Ensign Jennifer Delaney."
"Why?"
Iliana shrugged. "I don't know. You'll have to ask her."
"How did you know she was talking to the Devore?"
Iliana ran her tongue over her teeth, her expression growing more annoyed. She said nothing.
"It's hard," I said, "giving up your secrets to people you don't trust. You told me a long time ago that you thought Jen and her sister were interested in me. You implied I should keep an eye on them."
Iliana smirked. "Caught that, did you?"
"I did. We have suspicions about them. So do you. Problem is, neither one of us can trust the other enough to start sharing our suspicions. But Terrans have a saying. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' I think it applies now. We'll all be in a much better place to do something about our common problem if we work together."
Iliana lifted her chin. "Alright then. Tell me what you know."
"You are not in a position to make demands, Miss Ghemor," Tuvok said.
"I disagree. I played enough poker while I was with the Maquis to know how this works." She turned those calculating green eyes on Janeway. "You came to me, captain. You raised the stakes. That means you show your hand first."
Janeway examined Iliana, arms crossed like a mirror image of the other woman. "Alright. We have it on good authority that Ensign Delaney works for a Federation secret service agency known as Section 31. It is largely unknown to most Federation citizens and members of Starfleet, and those who are aware of its existence like to turn a blind eye to its activities.
"We've kept this information to ourselves while we investigate Miss Delaney's activities and motives, but we are keen to gather as much information as we can to expose Section 31's crimes to important stakeholders in our government and the governments of our allies. I'd imagine you agree the organization should be disbanded, no?"
A wicked smile crossed Iliana's face. "Yes, I would."
"Then tell me how you knew she sold us out to the Devore."
"You won't like it."
Janeway placed her hands on the biobed's railing and leaned in. "At this point, I don't give a damn what you've done. I just need to know what you know."
Iliana's smile widened. "Music to my ears, Captain."
Janeway straightened, crossing her arms again as if to say, I'm listening.
"It's simple." Iliana said. "I hacked her and Megan's IDs, planted a little bug in there to report back to me with their activities. Most of it is rather dull, but every now and again I find something interesting."
"Why offer to help the Brenari?" I asked. "After all this time sitting on what you know, collecting intel, why risk it for them?"
Iliana's bravado slipped. Her arms fell, hands dropping into her lap, and for the first time she couldn't meet our eyes. "I was weak," she muttered, shaking her head. "Sentimental and weak."
"You were unaware of the child's importance?" Tuvok asked.
She scoffed. "No, Tuvok. I didn't know anything about her. I still don't."
"Then why do it?" Janeway asked.
But I knew the answer already. I knew it in my pagh, in that deep and empty place where Rojel's death had carved a hole that would never heal. It was the same reason I'd been so desperate to save the Borg fetus the moment I saw him. "You couldn't stand to let another child die when you had the power to save her," I murmured.
"Pagh rokaya," Iliana said, still staring at her hands.
"I beg your pardon?" Janeway asked.
"She says I'm right," I answered, my voice wavering slightly. I cleared my throat and met the captain's eyes, allowing her to see the pain on my face and hoping she'd see it for the message it was.
We were cutting into a nerve.
Janeway nodded, relaxing her stance before turning back to Iliana. "So you offered to help them escape. But how?"
Iliana looked up, eyes hard like gemstones. "I put a tracker into the girl's arm and planted bombs in the others. I told them they didn't all have to die, but they wanted to give her a better chance at escape." She shrugged. "I guess she was important. Her logs had a code hidden in it to sync to her tracker. Hansen sent those logs to the Krenim queen, so that's who found her. Nessav contacted me about a week later to ask for help hiding her. I told her to change the girl's identity and appearance. We never spoke again after that."
"Yet you recognized her when you boarded the Borg cube," Tuvok said, "despite her being surgically altered and partially assimilated."
"I have sharp eyes."
"Were you not aware that Anelina would be on that Borg vessel?"
"No, I wasn't."
"Yet you possessed the tools necessary to recall her suppressed memories?"
"I didn't need anything special. It's not hard as long as you know what you're doing. I saw an opportunity to give myself the advantage, and I took it. You should be thanking me. I had more foresight than any of your Starfleet people did."
"Perhaps if you had informed us of your plans, we could have been better prepared."
Iliana snorted. "You're welcome. Any other questions?"
Janeway spoke next. "I want any and all records you've kept regarding Megan and Jennifer Delaney, as well as anything else you might have on Section 31."
Iliana's brows rose. "Quite a request, Captain. What do I get out of this exchange?"
Janeway placed both hands on her hips and lifted her chin, seeming to fill up the tiny space. "That's not a request, nor will it be an exchange. If those records are not on my desk first thing tomorrow morning, I'll have Lieutenant Commander Tuvok personally escort you to the brig. Do I make myself clear?"
A strange, amused sort of smile split Iliana's face. "Very."
The captain's affect remained as cold and hard as a stone. "Good. Then we're done here."
"Computer," Tuvok said, "end recording and deactivate security protocols around biobed two, authorization Tuvok-theta-nine."
"Voiceprint authorization confirmed," the computer responded. "Biobed two security field deactivated."
"Captain," I said, "I'd like to stay and have a private word with Crewman Ghemor, if that's alright."
Janeway nodded, then turned to leave the privacy field with Tuvok trailing behind her.
"Hope you don't mind," I said, perching on the chair beside her bed.
Iliana eyed me suspiciously. "What do you want, Eelo?"
I leaned in closer and lowered my voice. "When did you find out about Marnah?"
"Find what out?"
I shook my head. "There was a time when you wanted me to be suspicious of her. You may have backpedaled on that one, but now I know what you meant. I know what she was, what she wanted. When did you find out?"
"When my memories returned."
"So Seska never knew?"
She smirked. "Seska suspected the General was still a powerfully-placed person in the Federation. I didn't know what game your mother was playing, but it was obvious she had a prime seat at the table. Why do you think I cozied up to her?"
"Then why did you throw it out the airlock to fuck Chakotay?"
Iliana laughed. "Are you still hung up on that? I thought you'd moved on from him."
Resentment reared in my chest, and I bristled. "It has nothing to do with Chakotay. It's about you and your manipulations and how fucking mad it made me that you used everyone around you without giving a shit about their feelings—and how Marnah respected you more than me because of it."
She shrugged. "What can I say? She was never the kind of person you wanted her to be, and Seska was cut from the same cloth. Besides, if the General could see us now, there'd be no question which of us she'd respect. She'd kill me on the spot. It's no use being jealous anymore."
For a moment, we fell into silence. What could I say? She was right, of course, but I couldn't stand to admit such a thing. More than that, I struggled to stay above thoughts that floated in the depths of my mind, threatening to sink me—thoughts of Marnah being tortured by Dukat's men until nothing of her was left, of her being put into stasis and stored like an artifact rather than a person. I shook my head, refusing to let myself go there.
"Why did you join the Maquis?" Iliana asked.
The question seemed like a non sequitor. "What?"
"You were never going to fit in with the other Bajorans, Eelo. Especially not resistance fighters. And it wasn't your war to fight. What were you expecting to get out of it?"
"You know why."
"I know the General manipulated you into doing what she wanted."
"She didn't want me to join the Maquis."
"Bullshit," Iliana hissed. "She may have told you that, but she knew exactly what she was doing. I'd be willing to bet she was following someone else's orders on that one."
I frowned, thinking back to the fallout of Marnah's resignation from Starfleet, her turn to the resistance. I'd been stationed at Alpha Trianguli III along the Federation-Cardassian border when the Cardassians left Bajor. Terok Nor station was ceded to the Bajoran people, and they asked the Federation to help them hold it. Finally, I'd have a chance to see the world where Marnah had come from.
Then the orders came. I was recalled to Earth and assigned to Starfleet Medical HQ. They gave me a promotion but no explanation as to why they suddenly wanted me away from the border. When I arrived, they detained me and questioned me about Marnah's betrayal until I began to doubt my own motives. I begged for a deep space assignment far away from the conflict but was denied. They made me increasingly miserable until I simply couldn't take the abuse anymore.
"They wanted me to resign," I whispered. "They pulled strings with Starfleet Intelligence and Command to pressure me, make me so miserable that I left... and I ran right into the arms of the Maquis."
"Took you long enough to figure that out," Iliana said. "I thought you fleeters were supposed to be smart."
Her words didn't even land. I may as well have simply vanished from the room. My stomach had become stone, my limbs disconnected, my head a kite carried away by the cold wind of a new realization. Nothing—not a single one of my choices before Voyager—had ever been mine. And since then?
I shook my head. "I have to go." Jumping to my feet, I practically sprinted out of sickbay.
After my talk with Iliana, the morning seemed to drag on endlessly. I was distracted, unable to focus on departmental reports. My entire life was a series of reactions to the manipulation of others with more power than me. Had I ever made a choice on my own?
Joining Starfleet? It had been a dream of mine since childhood, but it was also a family expectation. Only my sister bucked that, and she always was the odd one in our family system.
Becoming a counselor? I was inspired by Aunt Aradne as well as a psychology professor at academy prep, but the choice had been my own. Dad had supported it. Marnah was furious. But my choice had been co-opted from the beginning. I'd wanted to be a deep space counselor on a ship. Instead, the most interesting part of my career before Voyager was Alpha Tri.
Even since being flung across the galaxy, far from the influence of Marnah and Section 31, I'd been manipulated by the Prophets, Q, Susperia, and, yes, somehow even Section 31.
Prophets.
The PADD in my hand fell to the desk with a clatter, but I barely even noticed. I needed to talk to the Prophet. It meant facing the thing I'd been avoiding for weeks—the Orb of Peace and the Emissary housed within. The prospect made my insides twist painfully, but I knew his true identity. There was no need for him to take on the appearance of Marnah or anyone else.
It was time for me to properly meet Captain Benjamin Sisko.
"It took you long enough to come and see me."
At the end of my shift, I'd immediately contacted Tuvok to arrange for some time with the orb in his quarters. I'd barely opened the box before I was swept into a vision of an empty white room where I stood alone with the Emissary himself.
"I thought time wasn't a concern for the Prophets," I said.
"I'm not a Prophet."
I laughed and considered the man. "My grandma had a saying. 'If it walks like a duck and it quacks like a duck, then it's probably a duck.'" I gestured towards him. "You seem pretty Prophet-like to me."
His lips curled up and parted in a wide smile. "You have no idea what I'm like."
"Alright, Captain Not-A-Prophet," I said, crossing my arms and forcing confidence into my voice, "tell me something. Why are you manipulating me?"
"Manipulating?" he echoed. "I'm not manipulating you."
"Trapping Marnah behind enemy lines so the Caretaker would snatch our ship instead of hers? Giving me visions, insisting Voyager ally with the Borg to create a weapon that could destroy an entire race? Helping to create an entirely new kind of being in Alixia and sending her to me with visions of a future in which the Borg overtake the Alpha Quadrant? Telling the Unity One co-op to travel halfway across this quadrant just to bring me the orb you had me make for them?"
"I've manipulated some events," he conceded, "but I haven't manipulated you."
"You're manipulating events around me in order to force me to act."
"Force? No. I've guided you, your comrades, your mother, and your friends, but I haven't forced anyone to do anything. There's a difference."
I frowned. "No, there really isn't. Either way, you took away my freedom to choose."
"Changing your options is not the same thing as taking your freedom."
"It's coercion," I snapped, arms falling to my sides and hands balling into fists. "Which means you're no better than Marnah or Section 31. No better than the Borg."
He raised his brows. "That sounds like black-and-white thinking."
"Don't you dare use therapy terms on me!" I shouted, my closely-held emotions all coalescing into a fury that exploded through every cell in my body.
It may have seemed petty to most, but he was a command officer—a bunch notorious for bucking the wisdom of mental health professionals yet acting as if they were such experts in everything. Dying and becoming a Prophet—or whatever he was now—didn't change the human biases of his past. Of all people, he had no right to lecture me about cognitions.
Still, I hadn't meant to get so angry, but I was wounded—wounded from Marnah's lies and Seska's betrayal, from Starfleet and Section 31, from the brutal war between the Maquis and the Cardassian Union, from Jen Delaney and Tom, from losing Rojel, from Captain Ransom's death, and from all the other ways my life had been torn to shreds over and over again.
Blood roared in my ears as all my pent-up feelings finally broke free, projected onto this man. "You use your power to bend everyone else to your will, not caring about how that might affect us—how much damage you might cause to someone's life or relationships or mental health. What right do you have to do what you've done and pass yourself off as some kind of superior form of life? None. You hear me? You have no right. So, fuck you. Fuck you and your power trip. Fuck you and your plans. Find someone else to control. I won't play your games anymore."
The tirade left me breathless, but my pagh felt suddenly weightless as if those feelings had all been chains holding my deepest self down in a dark dungeon and now I was finally free to reach for the light.
I'd expected anger or offense, or perhaps even condescension, but Sisko's face filled instead with sympathy and sorrow. "There was a time when I was like you," he said softly, his deep, smooth voice becoming gravelly for the first time. "A time when I, too, chose to ignore the counsel of the Prophets. I thought I was doing the right thing, standing up for myself, doing my duty as a Starfleet captain instead of falling for the flowery, pretentious bullshit I kept getting from the Prophets." He clenched his jaw, and I knew he was trying hard to swallow his own pain.
"What happened?" I asked, my anger ebbing away.
"I lost one of my dearest friends... Jadzia Dax."
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. His admission disarmed me completely.
"I also allowed a Pah'wraith to seal the wormhole and darken the orbs—that is, all but two."
"The Orb of Peace," I whispered.
"And the Orb of the Emissary. That orb revealed a new path to me—the path of the Prophets. It drew Ezri Dax to me and reopened the wormhole, but nothing can change the fact that I cost Jadzia her life."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I." He lifted his chin, steel returning to his posture and authority to his voice. "But that was a different life. I tell you that so you won't make the same mistake I did. I haven't come here to take away your free will. I came to show you a new path laid by the Prophets, but only you can choose whether or not to walk it."
"And if I choose not to?"
"Then maybe another will choose to walk it in your place. Maybe not."
"And then we'll all lose to the Borg."
"Maybe."
I crossed my arms. "Alright. Say I did decide to follow this path. What would I do next?"
"First, you must use the opportunity you've been given. Voyager is under repair. It will be weeks before it's ready for her next mission. So use the downtime to learn as much as you can about the orbs."
"I'm afraid we have limited information on Bajoran religious history in our database."
"There's another way. Before she was murdered, Jadzia was the one I turned to when I needed answers about the orbs or any other ancient Bajoran artifacts. You've been avoiding a letter from Ezri Dax. Read it. Contact her and ask for information."
I frowned. "Why can't you just tell me whatever it is you want me to know?"
Sisko grinned. "You'd like it to be that easy, wouldn't you?"
And then, as suddenly as it began, the experience was over, leaving me on my knees before a glowing blue orb in Tuvok's silent quarters.
Sensing my return to reality, Tuvok asked, "What did the Prophet show you?"
I shifted into a more comfortable sitting position but kept my eyes on the orb. "A path," I said. "And I think I'm going to take it."
