DS9: Arrival

-- What were Kira Nerys' thoughts as she first arrived on DS9 as the Bajoran Liason Officer? Set just prior to "The Emissary," and deals with the events revealed in "Necessary Evil." This started out as a writing exercise for myself, to try and write exactly the same scene with the exact same dialogue from two different points of view. The other half of this, which tells the story from Odo's perspective, is still being written.

The transport was crowded, but not terribly so. Most occupied seats were filled by members of the newly formed Bajoran militia, though Nerys spotted the occasional Vedek here and there as she scanned the passengers, remembering the few other times she'd made the trip to the station.

During the Occupation there wouldn't have been any seats in the passenger cabin. They would have been forced to huddle against each other and the bulkheads, clutching filthy rags to half-starved bodies and scrabbling for that little bit of extra room. The frightened cries of children and adults alike would have filled the air, along with the coughs and moans of the diseased and dying. Many would have taken comfort in the fact that the decrepit ship they traveled in was just as likely to explode in space as it was to dock at Terok Nor, thus bringing a quick and painless end to their misery. Most knew it was better than anything they would receive at the station, either at the direct hands of the Cardassians, or as slave labor to be worked to death in the refinery.

The phrase echoed in her head, making her giddy and afraid, both at the same time. The Occupation had encompassed her entire life, had shaped her and brought her to this moment. It was surreal to be thinking about the carnage and devestation the Cardassians had wreaked upon her home as something that had taken place in the past.

The all-too recent past, Nerys thought, turning to gaze out the window. She absently fingered the stiff collar of her still uncomfortable uniform as she looked out past her own reflection to the tiny speck in the distance. Someone she had once travelled here with had described it as a fat and malevolent spider sitting in a Cardassian web waiting to ensnare innocent Bajorans. An apt and obvious metaphor, yet it was an image Nerys couldn't imagine ever not associating with Terok Nor.

But this isn't Terok Nor anymore, she mentally corrected, chiding herself for the frivolous and silly imagery. This is just a place, just an old space station, she told herself sternly. This is Deep Space Nine now. A Federation outpost.

That in and of itself brought with it another large set of troubling thoughts. The Federation commander would be arriving in a few days, and Nerys made a mental note to use the time to make the provisional government see reason. They thought they could quiet her objections to the Federation, get her out of their hair by sending her away, Nerys realized, resenting it hotly. They had another thing coming, though, if they thought she could be shuffled aside so easily. Objections and alternatives needed to be voiced and heard, and though she would support the provisional government for the sake of Bajor, she would not stay silent on something this important to their hard-won independence.

Thoughts of failure weren't a luxury she allowed herself to indulge in often. Given the life she'd led, it was something she simply couldn't afford. Yet years of fighting the enemy, often with little more than her hatred and bare hands, had also taught her a certain practicality, a talent for using what she was given to her best advantage. Considering the fact that the provisional government, at least for the moment, seemed bent on welcoming the Federation with open arms, at least it would be into her arms that they would arrive.

Nerys' eyes flicked up as a blinking red beacon from the now looming station caught her eye, and she saw her reflection in the window.

Nerys didn't bother relaxing her features, or feeling embarrassed at the thought that someone nearby might see her. She continued to sneer at Deep Space Nine. It expressed so perfectly how she felt about both the provisional government and the Federation, that she figured she might as well practice. She had a feeling she'd be sneering often.

As they slid toward the docking ring, Nerys glanced up. An enormous Federation ship hovered between the upper pylons, dwarfing her own, barely spaceworthy ship. It was obviously one of the vessels carrying the Starfleet crew compliment. Nerys felt her heart sink even more at the sight of the bigger ship.

The transport rocked roughly, aligning itself with the docking ring as bulkhead clanged against bulkhead. Nerys glanced over her shoulder at her fellow passengers. Some gathered up carry-on luggage. Some chatted in hushed tones with their neighbors filling the cabin with the low buzz of conversation. Most, Nerys noted, sat staring tensely at the seat in front of them, as if willing the future to reveal itself from the depths of the worn upholstry.

She recognized a few faces. The blond woman a few seats behind her had been Shakaar's contact with another resistance cell during a joint raid on a Cardassian barracks. The overweight, brooding old man four seats down in her row had snuck medical supplies and food into the refugee camp she'd lived in as a teenager. As her eyes swept through the rows of seats, they hardened at the sight of a few other familiar faces. She spotted the wife of a man suspected of turning in his neighbors for harboring a few resistance fighters after a botched raid. It had never been proven of course, and the man had died at the hands of the Cardassians six months before the end of the Occupation. But the woman sat alone, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow, nonetheless.

With a final shudder, Nerys felt the docking clamps slide into place and secure the ship. All forward movement stopped, and for a second or two all the passengers sat quiety, staring at the two panel doors that lead to the airlock. They had opened automatically as soon as the docking procedure had been complete, but it was as if everyone was waiting for a signal, a sign that it was all clear and safe to move around.

How well she understood their trepedation, their fear. But they were here to do a job, one that wouldn't get done here in the transport vessel. As the highest ranking Bajoran officer on the station, she knew it was up to her to set the tone, provide an example for the others. Nerys took a deep breath, rose to her feet, and with far more confidence than she actually felt, she addressed the Bajoran crew compliment to Deep Space Nine.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began. She was kind of surprised that her voice didn't shake, unaccustomed as she was to public speaking. "Commander Sisko will be arriving in three days." Nerys fought to keep her voice neutral, though she doubted she succeeded. She'd made her opinions pretty well known back on Bajor, and was not without influence in a good number of the provinces. "There's a lot of work to be done, both before he arrives, and after. Bajor needs all of you Your knowledge, your skills, your dedication, to get the job done."

Nerys knew she had no future as a politician as she realized just how cliched her words sounded. Nor did she care, she realized.. With a small sigh of exasperation, she shrugged. "Oh, to hell with it! Lets show them we don't need the Federation to take care of us!"

Not the most politically correct thing to say, Nerys knew, but the tension in the transport lessened noticeably as people, as if on cue, started to file slowly out of the ship. Some laughed, or smiled. Others looked uncomfortable or appalled. Others stared at her in amazement at her faux paux. But Nerys was satisfied that it at least got a reaction out of nearly everyone. Grabbing her duffle, her only luggage, she inched her way slowly toward the airlock.

Pasing through the airlock, Nerys scanned the awaiting crowd for a familiar face, and eventually spotted Odo. He stood at the fringes of the crowd, his slight frame ramrod straight, his face expressionless. She didn't wave, or call out a greeting, but as their eyes met across the distance of the corridor, they began to make their way firmly toward each other.

Nerys slipped around the old man she'd recognized from the transport and found herself face to face with Odo. Now, she allowed herself to smile at him. Dukat had placed him in charge of security shortly after they'd met, and despite vigorous objection from some quarters, the Bajoran government had allowed Odo to keep the position and had even given him an honorary commission in the militia. Kira noted that he had formed a very close approximation of a Bajoran uniform, though it was not an exact replica.

"Major Kira," Odo said, greeting her formally. It was the first time he'd ever addressed her by her new rank. Nerys had to admit it felt odd.

As if following some silent cue, they began to walk together, weaving in and out of the rapidly dispersing crowd. "Welcome to Deep Space Nine," he said after a moment.

Nerys glanced around the dim corridor. Just ahead, a small shower of sparks rained down from a cable that had been ripped out of a wall unit, and she caught a whiff of ozone from a damaged replicator that was nearby. Every computer access panel they passed was smashed, and several looked as though they'd been literally ripped apart. One even had a large piece of steel imbedded deeply into it. Nerys tried to ignore the profanities and threats grafittied on the walls and ceilings. They were all too familiar; she'd seen the same things written on the walls of the refugee camps she'd lived in as a child.

Not surprisingly, Odo was clearly disgusted by the vandalism. "The Cardassians spent the last three days destroying the station. It'll take months to clean it up."

"Then I guess we'd better get started," Nerys said, keeping her voice neutral. "I should check out Ops."

"It's this way," Odo said, leading her onto the Promenade. "The turbo lifts are out. That Starfleet engineer told me he'd have them up in an hour." With a small snort, Odo added, "That was three hours ago."

As they walked onto the Prominade, she saw that most of the stores had been vandalized as well. Everywhere Nerys looked, she saw shopkeepers sullenly packing boxes, preparing to leave. She tried to quash the wave of resentment that abruptly tore through her. Nobody, including her, was placing any bets on the Provisional Government. She knew what all these merchants were thinking. Better to cut their losses now before things became too unstable and Bajor descended into the civil war that had been threatening to explode since the Cardassians decided to vacate the planet. Still, she took their abandonment personally; they were leaving without giving Bajor, without giving her a chance.

"When did Starfleet arrive?" she asked, turning to look over at Odo in the hopes of distracting herself.

"Yesterday," Odo said. "They sent down engineers and security personel right away. Good thing, too, since every petty thief and looter on the station took the withdrawl as an open invitation to commit felonies."

Odo had never been one to complain, and was not doing so now. But she could clearly hear the frustration in his voice, see it in the stiffness of his demeanor. Impusively, she reached out and took his hand. It was suprisingly cool and soft, and she was certain she felt a small shudder run through him, though it was difficult to tell because they were walking. "I'm just glad you were here," she said sincerely, smiling up at him. "The Provisional Governement was slow to get its act together. I wanted to be ready to board the station as soon as the Cardassians left, but they seemed insistant on making this more complicated than it needed to be."

Odo nodded. "I know you would have been here if you could have, Major," he said.

"There's a lot of work to do, but if you need anything, Odo," she told him earnestly, giving his hand a small squeeze, "just ask. I can't promise that I'll get it for you, but I'll do what I can."

Odo seemed slightly taken aback at her words, and looked down at her with a strange expression on his face for a moment or two. Then, clearing his throat he looked away.

"You could start," he said, "by telling me who you managed to piss off badly enough to get this assignment."

The question, and the amusement with which it was asked, caught her off guard. She'd never seen Odo display a sense of humor of any kind. But the question made her laugh, the first real laugh she'd had in days. In fact, Nerys was certain it was the first real laugh she'd had in years. Releasing him, she moved a step or two in front of him. "Would you like that list alphabetized, Constable?"

They were midway down The Promanade when she caught sight of the old chemist shop and her smile faltered. Odo followed her gaze, then nodded knowingly as they paused in front of it.

Without thinking, Nerys reached out and touched the door, running her fingertips across the the varnished wood. Someone had kicked in the glass, and there were scratches around the lock. Nerys guessed that someone had tried to pry the door open.

"After Vattrick died, it became a clothing shop, but that didn't last long. Then a betazed leased the property with the intention of opening a bar. Shortly after that, she lost everything she owned at Quark's dabo table." Odo's voice was laced heavily with sarcasm. "Some people think the property is haunted."

Nerys turned sharply to look at him. "That's ridiculous," she said quickly. Too quickly, perhaps. Odo tilted his head to the side and favored her with that strange, penetrating look he sometimes gave people. That unnerved her, and she moved away, turning her back on him and stepping into the flow of pedestrian traffic making its way along the promenade. She didn't believe in ghosts, but the comment had unsettled her. How much did Odo know about Vattrick's murder? Was he still working on the case? Was he working on it now?

"Not yet," Odo said, his tone measured as he fell into step beside her. "The case is still open, and you never know what will turn up."

So he was still investigating, even if it wasn't an active one. She should have known; Odo simply didn't give up that easily. She would have to be careful. Things had been different when she'd only seen him on occasion. In the three years since their first encounter he'd sought her out on his rare trips to Bajor once or twice. At first, thinking he was going to turn her in to the Cardassians, he had frightened her, and she'd been wary and nervous during their intial brief meetings. But he had assured her that he meant her no harm, and that he sought her out only out of concern for her safety. He seemed sincere enough, and Nerys had wanted to believe him. She'd once asked him to prove his trustworthiness to her by providing them with some information. He'd refused, stating vehemently that while he respected what the Bajoran resistance was trying to do, he could not get involved. Nerys had told him that he was already involved, that by not telling Dukat the truth about her when he'd had the chance, he'd already chosen a side.

It had been an ugly arguement, and she'd been certain she would never see him again. But she had, later that day, just before he'd left to return to the station. He'd come to apologize for getting angry.

And she hadn't stayed angry, either. She liked him. He'd become something of a legend on Bajor, the shapeshifter who never took sides, who was always fair. Maybe he was just the kind of friend she needed.

A friend she'd repaid with lies, always more lies. Nerys wondered if she would ever escape the lies. And of course, the lies only covered up the worst of it; she had done so many horrible things, killed so many in the name of Bajor and the Prophets....

Things were happening too quickly, she thought, feeling a hard knot form in the center of her chest. The Cardassians were gone; Starfleet was here. Overnight, everything she knew about her world had changed. Shakaar had talked of becoming a farmer, and had gone off to one of the northern provinces. Lapuza, Faruk, Tomil. All were trying to move on, become something else. Like herself.

He was still here, where it seemed he had always been, trying to maintain order out of the chaos.

Nerys didn't know when it had happened, but somehow, somewhere along the line, what Odo thought of her meant something, meant a lot. Could she tell him the truth now, and bear working with him, knowing that she had disappointed him? He had risked much when he'd lied for her, lied to cover what was, in effect, another lie, but Odo didn't know that. There'd been no delight in the fact that she'd gotten away with it; there never was. Every victory was measured in the amount of blood on her pagh, and they all quickly turned to ashes.

She'd killed Vattrick in self-defense. She'd had no choice. At the time, she hadn't had any choice but to lie about it when Vattrick's wife accused her of having an affair with him, making her a suspect.

But she had a choice now. She had a choice to tell Odo the truth and deal with the consequences, whatever they may be.

They had fallen in with the traffic of merchants and starfleet personel. Nerys noted a few Bajorans, here and there, as she and Odo made their way toward the stairwell that would take them to Ops. Having made up her mind, Nerys scanned the area frantically for a private place where they could talk. Just ahead was a turbo lift, but a flashing red light over the door indicated that it wasn't working.The doors probably still worked, and since no better place presented it to her, she moved toward it before she lost her nerve.

Odo didn't miss a beat as he moved along beside her. "The turbo lifts don't work, Major," he commented. "The stairwell is back that way."

"I know, Odo," she said, reaching the door and pressing the release. When it slid open, her mouth suddenly went dry. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

Shaking off the momentary doubt, she turned to Odo. "Odo, we need to talk. There's something I have to tell you."

Od hung back for only a moment, then nodded once before ushering her into the lift and closed the door.

This was it. She was still nervous--Odo would hate her for this, she was certain. She'd let him down; he'd no longer be her friend. The thought pained her, but not as much as keeping the truth from him did at this moment. Licking her lips, she nodded, and began.

Just then a voice, rough and strangely accented, sounded over Odo's communicator.

For one moment, Nerys was almost grateful. She wondered if the Prophets had intervened, were telling her that this was neither the time, nor the place. But as quickly as that thought came, she dismissed it. It was bad timing, nothing more. Probably bad timing on the part of Starfleet, she thought bitterly. Here they were interrupting Bajor's freedom and independence. They might as well interrupt her personal life as well!

Tapping it once, with an expression that revealed his distate for both the interruption and the voice responsible for it, he answered gruffly. "Odo here."

"Very good, sir. Commander Riker is here and would like to see her immediately."

"Two more thing, Sir. The alarm in Quark's storage room went off five seconds ago. And the turbo lifts are working, again."

Nerys opened, then closed her mouth, and shook her head. Now clearly wasn't the time. There was too much to do, she told herself. The personal stuff would have to wait. "Go take care of that. Knowing Quark, he's trying to rob himself. And I should get to Ops. We wouldn't want to keep Starfleet waiting, would we?" She didn't bother to hide her sarcasm, not from Odo. She was through hiding things from him. Or so she promised herself, and tried not to think about the fact that she'd used the interruption as an excuse. And tried not to think about how welcome an interruption it had actually been.

Odo nodded once, though it almost looked like a curt bow. "We'll talk later, then," he said, opening the door and stepping out of the turbo lift.

"Later," Nerys said, nodding. When he had turned and was out of earshot, just as the doors were closing, she sighed. "Right," she whispered to herself.