How the World Was Made
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1. Unpleasant News
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The finality of everything struck as soon as the Founders' planet grew in his sight. Its host star, a red M-class, shone like a dying ember in the cold, silent void.
The Founders' solar system was a mere dot among many dusting the black vastness.
"Computer, standard orbit."
A Bajoran shuttle gently piloted itself into position above the planet.
"Standard orbit achieved."
"Excellent."
Mora Pol reached for the blue-gray cane propped on a nearby bulkhead. Its metal grip felt cool under his palm. With a grunt, he heaved himself onto his feet. Getting up took more effort than sitting down. He saw his own pained grimace reflected back at him via the control panel. The years faded his slicked-back hair to shades of white and silver, however he was proud to note his face hadn't changed much.
"You're still alive if it hurts," Mora muttered to himself.
His gaze refocused on the viewscreen. He hadn't seen this world in twenty years. Would they still recognize him? Would he still recognize them?
Fresh discomfort stirred in his lower back and crept outward. A hypospray hissed, relieving the misery before it reached its crescendo. Metorapan always worked quickly to dull the discomfort. Medicine marked his days now.
Mora secured the shuttle's controls and hobbled onto the transport platform. The cane took the pressure off his arthritic left knee, which he refused to have surgically replaced. He shoved the hypospray back inside the pocket of his plain gray travel jacket.
"Computer, energize."
Everything dissolved into sparkles and resolved again in shades of beige and red. His feet rested upon the only island amidst a shifting golden sea.
Mora had never been to the surface of the Founders' homeworld before. Everywhere he looked, he saw Changelings in their natural liquid state.
He stumbled as he moved to sit on a nearby rock. His cane slipped from his grasp. Before he could seize it again, it bounced off his foot and flipped into the living ooze.
"Oh, how clumsy of me. I'm so sorry!" Mora called out. "I hope I didn't hurt anyone."
A pillar of liquid rose above the calm surface. Mora's cane floated within it. As the Founder took shape, the cane slid out of its substance and into its forming hand.
Mora studied the Changeling's emerging features. Its Bajoran nose ridges almost looked natural. The aristocratic cheekbones gave its- his- face more definition and his blond slicked-back hair had a little wave to it. Full eyebrows still eluded him, however faint wisps shimmered on his simulated brow bones. His vivid electric blue eyes were piercing as ever. They never changed, even though his face evolved.
"You finally got the ears!" Mora said, grinning. He couldn't disguise his awe. "You're looking well...yes," his voice went hoarse, "you look fantastic!"
Odo stepped onto the island. His black knee high boots made no sound. He chose to 'wear' fitted charcoal gray pants and a steel blue tunic falling to his hips. Untied silver drawstrings hung beneath the tunic's wide collar, and a matching stripe ran vertically down the outside of the left sleeve. The materials behaved naturally on his body; not a single fold or crease seemed out of place.
Mora took his cane from Odo's hand and bit his bottom lip at the fond image before him. Odo had perfectly reproduced the outfit Mora wore on his wedding day.
"I got better at shape shifting," he said. Not one to mince words, he asked, "Why are you here?"
Mora saw the curiousness in Odo's eyes, so he didn't take his lack of a proper greeting personally.
"I'm here because- "
A second form came onshore. Unlike Odo, this one looked just the way Mora remembered him: slicked-back auburn hair, deep brown eyes and slightly unrefined facial features.
Kejal bounded forward, shouting, "Father!"
"Oof!" Mora winced at being lifted off the ground in a bear hug. Kejal didn't see it, but Odo did. He leaned against Kejal's chest, having missed those strong, tight embraces.
"Mother, come on. Hug him!" Kejal extended an arm. Odo shook his head with a smile of his own. He walked into the group hug. Mora found himself enclosed in two sets of arms while silently dreading the revelation he was about to spring on them.
"He is a hugger," Odo said. "No one leaves without a hug from Kejal. It's become a bit of a tradition."
"I think it's wonderful." Mora replied. He gave Kejal a quick kiss on the cheek and noticed it still felt smooth like an infant's. "Kejal, is your appearance by choice?"
Kejal patted Mora's back. "I'm still working on my humanoid form. I learned how to shape shift right after I was born, but mastering it takes time. Mother has gone on several diplomatic missions within Dominion space to help heal the damage caused by the war, so he's had more practice than I have." He smiled, his eyes bright. "I'm the boss when he's gone."
"I'm sure you do a fine job." Mora squeezed Kejal's shoulder and let Odo help him sit down on a nearby boulder. Not the most comfortable seat, but better than standing. "As for why I came...I'm making my last journey off Bajor. This is the destination I chose."
Kejal's smile slipped.
Odo frowned. "Doctor Mora, are you saying you're- "
"Yes." Mora looked up at them, his expression grave. "I'm dying."
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Odo stared at Doctor Mora, a man he almost considered impervious to illness. The years faded his hair to the color of stainless steel. He carried a cane and walked slower than he used to. Despite that, he didn't look sick.
"Are you sure there wasn't a mix up?" Odo asked. "Doctors make errors all the time. Are you certain you weren't misdiagnosed?"
Doctor Mora pursed his lips and his shoulders slumped. His defeated body language gave Odo his answer. No, the diagnosis wasn't a mistake.
"I have Delfeya syndrome," said Doctor Mora. "I was born with it, but I didn't know until I developed symptoms ten years ago. I should've known the heart murmur I had all my life was an indicator. Almost everyone with Delfeya syndrome has a malformed bicuspid valve, but not everyone with a malformed bicuspid valve has Delfeya syndrome." He spread his hands, "Look at me. I've accomplished a lot in my lifetime. A lot of people with this disease develop symptoms in their twenties, and I'm ninety-five years old. That's not a bad age to go."
Odo felt something within his substance freeze in a mix of shock and horror. Beside him, Kejal wiped a hand through his hair.
Delfeya syndrome was an extremely rare genetic disorder among Bajorans. No one knew they had it until the symptoms began. Once active, it destroyed the vascular system and robbed the body of its ability to produce oxygen-carrying red blood cells. Organ systems needed oxygen to function; without it, they failed. One by one. Death usually occurred within five years of onset. With treatment. Without treatment, people rarely lasted six months.
Odo remembered to mimic breathing again.
"That's real funny," Kejal snorted. "This is revenge for the deka seed pod pranks, isn't it?"
Doctor Mora clasped his hands on top of his cane. He shook his head. "I wish it was, Kejal."
"What is your prognosis?" Odo heard himself ask.
Doctor Mora's eyes focused on him. "Two more months...if I'm lucky."
Two months...
Kejal's gaze swung between Odo and Doctor Mora. He clenched his fists.
"No. No, damn you! I won't believe it! Somebody made a mistake! This isn't right!"
"Kejal- "
"Don't. I don't want to hear this," Kejal snapped. He closed his eyes and liquefied where he stood.
"I'm sorry, Kejal." Doctor Mora whispered.
Odo sat beside his Bajoran mentor. He reached down and stroked his fingers through Kejal's natural form. Kejal resisted the comforting gesture by morphing himself into a jagged black rock.
Sighing, Odo turned towards Doctor Mora. "What about the treatments? There are several available, aren't there?"
"Odo, I was diagnosed ten years ago. My doctor gave me five years, and I fooled him. The treatments slowed the cell deterioration down, but they couldn't stop it. And recently, they ceased working altogether. They were awful...just awful. I couldn't get out of bed for days afterward. That left me three days a week where I was functional, and the rest were miserable."
"Doctor Mora, Kejal is right. You can't quit n- "
"I had to make a choice, Odo. A choice between a miserable year of existing, or two months of living. When I looked at it that way, the choice was easy. I'm going to die either way, why not enjoy the time I have left?" Doctor Mora gazed out across the glistening gold horizon. He closed his eyes and smiled. "I wanted to see you and Kejal while I still have the energy to travel. I'll beam back up to my shuttle in a little while and head home."
The icy feeling in Odo's chest grew. Like it or not, Doctor Mora set his life on the path that ended here on the Founders' homeworld. If it weren't for him, he wouldn't have met Kira or given birth to Kejal. He owed everything he was to this man- as much as he hated to admit it.
Sometimes, Odo despised his sense of duty. Doctor Mora represented a part of his life he never wanted to revisit. And here he was, sick and in need.
He always had a knack for showing up when I'm finally happy again. Perfect. Why am I doing this? Why should I care? What difference does it make?
Odo silenced his thoughts and forced himself to speak.
"No," he said.
Doctor Mora squinted. "Odo, I'm sorry that I- "
"No, I meant you won't go home alone." Odo went on without looking at him. "Someone has to attend your needs when you get too sick to take care of yourself."
"Odo, that's touching, but," Doctor Mora regarded their surroundings, "what about the Great Link?"
Odo smiled halfway. "Little by little, it is shrinking. My people are setting out to explore the stars again. Their fear of the solids is dwindling."
"I see." Doctor Mora's eyes watered. "I still can't believe how good you look, Odo." He reached towards Odo's face. "May I...?"
Annoyed, but understanding, Odo shoved his discomfort aside and accepted the scientist's touch. His shoulders hunched as memories of the lab rose to choke him. A mental slamming of the door sent them back into the shadows.
He was proud of his skin now- he'd made it indistinguishable in texture from other humanoids. Even his hair felt and behaved like a solid's.
"I can look like anyone I want, but I chose to evolve my default face instead. Kejal is still working on his appearance. He will look more like me in about twenty years. If he keeps practicing."
"Good. Very good," said Doctor Mora. He leaned on his cane again. His fingers were thin, and blue veins showed prominently under the skin on the backs of his hands. "You're remarkable, Odo. You really are."
Odo scowled and scooted out of Doctor Mora's reach. Comments like that made him feel like a specimen again.
"Where are you staying on Bajor?"
"I've elected to remain in my home. I don't want to spend my last days being poked and prodded by medical personnel."
Hah! You're lucky you had a choice in the matter. Odo sniffed, but didn't let his contempt show.
"Then that is where Kejal and I will stay as well." He shot Doctor Mora a look. "Don't read too much into it. Someone has to make sure you don't fall down and die on the floor." And finally, he tapped the rock near his feet with his knuckles. "Kejal, that's enough."
When no response came, he grumbled. "Typical."
"It's been awhile since I've seen that," remarked Doctor Mora. If Odo's bristling bothered him, he did a fine job of hiding it. "He was rarely unhappy, but once in awhile he had his moods. I think he inherited that from you."
"He did." Odo said. "I'll get his attention."
He touched the rock, letting his hands liquefy. The rock melted and reconstituted.
"Kejal!" Odo warned.
At last, the small boulder morphed into a proper humanoid shape.
"Parents aren't supposed to die!" Kejal growled before he'd fully solidified. "Father, give me a database. I'll find you every doctor who understands Bajoran biology. I don't care if we have to go to the Delta quadrant! We'll cure this!"
"Kejal," Doctor Mora grasped Kejal's wrist. "I'm sorry, son..."
Odo ached at seeing Kejal's pain. "Kejal never witnessed another sentient being's death before. Not in person."
"I watched your experiences through the Link." Kejal huffed belligerently. "Weyoun died in your arms once."
"It isn't the same as actually being th- Doctor Mora?"
"Oh, this happens." Doctor Mora pressed a cloth handkerchief to his nose. Blood stained the pale blue fabric. "It's part of the disease process. I'm fine, don't worry."
Kejal broke free and walked to the other side of the tiny island. Odo let him have his space. He had nothing to worry about as long as Kejal didn't turn into a Tarkalean hawk and fly away. When that happened, he disappeared for hours.
"He is the most sheltered of us all. Emotionally, he is as much a child as I was when I left your laboratory." Odo sighed. He pointed to the bloody fabric and asked, "Does that hurt?"
Doctor Mora shrugged. "No." He sat up straighter. "And I know you want to ask. Death doesn't scare me. I know where I'm going. Dying, on the other hand..."
Odo's lips pressed themselves together. He wished he knew how to reach out. A lot remained unsaid between them, and he couldn't find the means to face the battle-scarred mess of their past.
I forgave what you did, but I haven't forgiven you. Odo thought bitterly. And I don't know how to forgive you. Maybe I never will.
"I know, from experience, how awful it is to be alone and afraid." Odo kept his voice neutral. "We may have our differences, but I won't abandon you to die alone."
Doctor Mora tilted his head sideways to meet Odo's gaze. His eyes softened. He smiled behind the cloth pressed to his nostrils.
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Golden sparkles marred the line between the horizon and the formless fluidity of his people.
Kejal found no comfort in the view. The only father he'd ever known came back just to announce his imminent death. Parents were supposed to be immortal. Nothing phased them. Mountains crumbled and stars went supernova before somebody's parents died!
At least, that was what he wanted to believe.
He can't die unless he goes home, right? Kejal tried to rationalize. He squinted at the sky, his mind grasping at every excuse he could come up with. Then I can prevent his death!
His hands fell to his sides. He closed his fists. Yes, it was possible to delay death!
"Father, let's go somewhere."
The conversation between Odo and Mora fell silent. Kejal rounded on them, his brown eyes flashing.
"Let's beam up to your shuttlecraft and explore the universe." He approached Mora and sat on the ground, looking upwards at his face. "We can do it. There are a lot of fuel stations in this quadrant. We'll be able to travel for decades!"
Mora's eyes crinkled. He reached out and took Kejal's hand, giving it a strong squeeze. At last he pulled the bloodstained cloth away from his nose.
"How about your nebula?" Mora suggested. "It's on the way home."
"We can start with that." Kejal clutched Mora's hand like a lifeline. "Then we'll travel the galaxy." He knew his logic held no water, yet he kept hoping beyond hope his words would magically become truth. "You won't die if you stay off Bajor."
"Oh, Kejal..." Mora tried to smile, but his lips quivered instead.
Odo knelt behind Kejal. Kejal felt his mother's hands on his shoulders. A touch as familiar to him as the tiny, airy world he lived in before birth. Right then he wished he could return to that place. Nothing hurt there, and death didn't loom like a phantom.
"You can't keep someone alive that way," Odo told him.
"Watch me! I can try!" Kejal clenched his jaw. "I can try."
Mora tightened his grasp on Kejal's hand, and Kejal took comfort in feeling that strength. "I've been ready for the end for a long time now."
"No! Stop it! Let me find you a cure. You can't give up."
Kejal found himself pressed close to Mora's chest. Behind him, Odo also came nearer. He closed his eyes and sought solace between the only parents he'd ever known.
"Please, let me try to help you," he choked out. Tears were still beyond him, but his voice broke and his face pulled. "You're not supposed to die."
"Shhh. Kejal, listen to me." Mora grasped Kejal's shoulders.
At that, Kejal screwed his eyes shut again and covered his ears. He didn't want to hear this.
Mora moved his hands off his ears. "Kejal? Come on now, look at me."
"Why?" Kejal peered up at Mora's face. At the two dark blue eyes shifting slightly back and forth in their sockets as they gazed into his. A quirk of solids, he'd learned.
Yes, father, tell me how to cure you.
Mora said, "Having you walk this path with me will mean a lot. It won't be easy and it won't be pleasant, but I'll do all I can to prepare you." He leaned forward. "In the coming months, you will find out how strong you truly are."
"No."
"It is what it is, Kejal. I'm sorry."
"It doesn't have to be!" Kejal snapped. "It shouldn't be you, father. It's not fair."
"A lot of things in life aren't fair," Mora replied. "Sitting around and complaining won't change it."
"Giving up won't change it, either."
"Oh, son..."
"You didn't let me die, so I won't let you die." Kejal said insistently.
Parents were supposed to be immortal.
Kejal's substance recoiled in terror at the very thought of witnessing his father's last breath.