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As the untime and unspace of the Celestial Temple opens up around the small Bajoran transport vessel, General Kira Nerys closes her eyes and prays. It is a prayer of thanksgiving, and a prayer of farewell.
She knows that she will never pass this way again.
She half-wondered if any of Them might deign to speak, to pass on one last message to Their lifelong faithful servant. But there comes no flash of white, no alternate-memory scene; no familiar face with alien intelligence peeking through its eyes.
General Kira finds that she is actually just fine with that.
The Prophets have blessed her with a long life, and the opportunity to spend it in the service of her first love: the planet and the people of Bajor. In her 113 years, General Kira has been fortunate enough to see her beloved homeworld blossom like a chas'ima flower in the springtime, growing from the occupied and enslaved wasteland of her youth into the artistic, cultural, and spirital beacon that the planet has become.
These days, Bajor's universities are legendary, as are its concert halls, museums, and gardens. Seekers come from across the Federation and beyond to study in Bajor's monasteries and partake of the wisdom of the Prophets. The Vedeks, judging that the time for secrecy is over, have developed the Orbs into a force for genuine healing, and in the past 50 years, Orb experiences have helped thousands of people to overcome addictions, anxieties, depression, and grief. Bajor has become a guiding light for the entire Alpha Quadrant, and has been repaid richly by its allies in exchange.
These days, Bajoran and Cardassian children play together in the streets of Mh'kala City, the elegant and graceful new planetary capital.
Well, not so new anymore, Nerys supposes. Has it really been 70 years since the tall spires of the new Parliament building first rose up to meet the sky? It seems like it was just built yesterday. She'd wept on that day, when the Parliament building was officially inaugurated. She remembers that her hands had been trembling so hard that it took her three tries with the knife to cut the whole way through the ribbon.
These days, her hands tremble like that all of the time.
She'd seen them, just yesterday, three Bajorans and two young Cardassian girls — no doubt the children of visiting scholars or official functionaries. All five of them laughing and running down the street, chasing a spinning dahl-kat robot that jumped and dodged to avoid them, always staying just ahead. Their minds were wholly on the game, as they should be, without the slightest hint of knowledge or concern that their two species had once despised each other to the point of genocide.
After all, the Occupation ended almost a century ago. It's ancient history, to them.
Ancient history... Nerys herself is starting to feel like something from a textbook, at times. Like the world has changed beneath her, and now it's time for her to leave. To make a graceful exit, while she can still walk out on her own two feet. She'd been thinking about that for awhile, even before she saw that look on Doctor Annek's face.
When he came in to deliver the test results, she knew what he was going to say before he even spoke.
"I'm sorry, General Kira. I'm afraid that the results came back positive for Grav-Lal's Syndrome."
Nerys had harbored her own suspicions for quite awhile. Grav-Lal's is a disease that strikes elderly Bajorans, especially women; especially those who were exposed to large quantities of uridium dust when they were young. She's right in the target group. Grav-Lal's has no known cure, but Dr. Annek had been bravely reassuring, telling Nerys that with new experimental treatments she could hope to live for up to 10 years more.
Nerys had laughed in his face, after he said it.
"And what?" she'd said. "And die in a hospital bed at the age of 123, with machines to do my breathing and circulate my blood, unable to speak, no longer knowing my own name? No longer recognizing the faces of my godchildren's grandchildren? Trias, my friend. You know that's not my death." Dr. Annek had frowned, and a look of unconcealed grief had flashed across his handsome face.
Nerys had felt vaguely guilty about putting those care lines there. Annek Trias always reminds her of that other young doctor, back during the War — the handsome, overzealous one with the artificially-enhanced brain. What was his name? Bashir Julias. No, no, Julian, that was it.
Julian Bashir, to give his name its Human order.
Nerys shakes her head. She's already beginning to forget things, though the mere passage of time is to blame for some of that. It's been what — 50 years, since she last saw the young Doctor?
He was not so young anymore at that point, of course, but Julian always kept up a youthful air, even well into middle age. The last time Nerys saw him, he was living on Cardassia Prime, of all things. He'd gone over to help with the Reconstruction, and somehow ended up as head of the new medical college at the rebuilt University of Culat. Of course, his husband was probably to blame for much of that, since Garak had risen to the post of Foreign Minister in the new democratic Cardassian government.
She wonders if they're both still there. She probably should have checked, but it's too late for such things now.
**********
As the Temple heaves them out into the Gamma Quadrant, Nerys looks around at the small Bajoran crew. She chose to stay on the bridge during the journey through the Temple, though she's carefully positioned herself off to the side, where she can lean on her cane and not get in the crew's way. She sees the exaggerated care with which they're attending to their tasks, the way they keep looking sideways at her from the corners of their eyes. Young cubs, all of them, but at least they're too professional to blatantly turn and stare.
Nerys has to remind herself that these crewmembers are probably around the age she was when she first became the liason to Deep Space Nine.
The first officer must have noticed her watching, because the young woman swivels around in her navigation chair and gives Nerys a smart salute. "Navarch, I estimate four hours and fifteen minutes until we reach the Changeling homeworld."
"Thank you, Lieutenant...." Nerys wracks her brain.
"Lt. Yaras, Navarch," she says, and salutes again.
"Lt. Yaras, yes, of course. My apologies." Nerys winces. She knows that the entire crew introduced themselves when she first came on board. "And please, you don't have to call me Navarch. General will do."
The title is defunct now, of course; there are no Generals in Starfleet. (Which, by coincidence, makes General Kira the only person to have held the rank in post-Occupation Bajor.) Still, she prefers it to the vague religious connotations that come with the title of Navarch. She's deeply religious, of course, but Nerys has never seen herself as a spiritual leader.
"My apologies, General Kira. Would you like me to escort you to your quarters, until we arrive?"
"No, thank you, Lieutenant. I'd like to remain on the bridge." She cracks a grin. "I assure you, I'll do my best to stay out of your way."
The Lieutenant seems vaguely horrified at the implication that the crew might want Nerys gone. "Oh, absolutely, Nav... General Kira!" she says quickly. "You're welcome to stay wherever you like!" She hesitates. "Would you like to take the Chief Engineer's chair? Lt. Durtak is down in the engine room, at the moment."
"Thank you, but there's no need," Nerys says. "I'd like to stand."
She wants to savor the feeling of standing on her own two feet for as long as she can. She knows that she won't be doing it for too much longer.
At least, not if everything goes as Nerys hopes it will.
**********
The sky on the new Changeling homeworld is curiously purple. Nerys shields her eyes from the glare of the orange sun, and watches the transport disappear. She has no qualms about using the young pups' awe to get her way, when necessary. Like right now, when she absolutely does not want any Bajoran company.
There's only one person's company that Nerys wants, right now.
There's no guarantee, of course, that he will choose to come at all. But she believes, whether foolishly or not, that Odo will not fail her. Not now. That he will know that she would not come here, unless it was important.
Nerys sits on the ground, arms curled around her legs, and waits. After a few moments, she begins to meditate.
Some time passes. It might have been an hour or ten minutes; the non-time of meditation comes more and more easily to Nerys, with every year of practice. Her back and knees are sore from sitting — but then, they are always sore, these days.
She's so intent on her breath, so engrossed in the words of the mind-focusing chant, that she doesn't notice the movement in the Great Link until the surface rises up into a man-sized column. The column ripples forward, and she watches as it develops arms and legs. Then a torso, a neck and head. And then a face, one with slicked-back hair and familiar approximations of humanoid facial features.
Nerys has never forgotten any detail of that face.
She smiles up at him. "Odo! It's so good to see you."
Words are so inadequate. She hopes that he will understand.
He looks at her for a second, his head tilted to the side. Then he speaks — slowly, as if relearning in the process how to form his vocal cords, how to force the air across them and tongue-curl it into sound. "Nerys." His voice sounds rusty, strange.
She holds out her hand to him; slowly, slowly, he reaches his arm down and takes it. Five fingers form quickly, after his arm is already in motion, blossoming outward to make a soft strong hand. And he holds her, just like she's imagined in so many decades' worth of dreams.
**********
They embrace for some time, and it is just like meditation. It could last an hour or ten minutes; General Kira doesn't know. Odo shifts form, moves his mass and flows around her, in a way that she never saw him do, before. Like he's no longer bothering to even give lip service to being solid.
Nerys finds that it makes her happy, that Odo seems so comfortable, so at home. So able to simply be; never pretending to be something that he is not.
After a time, he unwinds himself from around her and says, "We remember." She looks up at him, eyes narrowed. "We have never forgotten you, Nerys."
"We?" she says archly, resting her hand on the Changeling's unformed face. "Who is 'we'? I thought that I was speaking with Odo."
"We were Odo," he says, and Nerys feels her heart sink. She can no longer read the expression on Odo's face; it has always been difficult, but there was a time when she had felt quite skilled at teasing out the subtle play of her lover's strong emotions.
For the first time, she feels afraid. For the first time, she feels a loss.
"We are Odo." He tries again, studying her. That strange head-tilt to the side — not something he used to do. It must be from another one of them. Another part of the Great Link. "I am Odo." Finally he arrives at the statement that Nerys has been wanting to hear, ever since she arrived.
"I am Odo," he says again, and he sounds more certain, this time.
Nerys smiles. "Odo." They kiss agains. This, at least, Odo remembers well. Maybe kissing feels less alien than talking does, to him.
"Is it strange?" Nerys asks him when they are. "Being Odo again, after so long in the Great Link?"
"It has been... as you say, a long time, since I was last separate." As he speaks, his voice slowly begins to sound more like his own. Nerys can feel the tension in her shoulders relaxing.
It seems that Odo, her Odo, does still exist after all.
"How long has it been," she asks, "since the last time you left the Link?"
He shakes his head. "I cannot say. Time is... different, in the Link. But..." he looks at her. "I have been part of the Link since the last time that I saw you. Judging by your appearance, that must have been many years ago."
Nerys is speechless for a moment. She always assumed that he would separate himself from time to time — to practice taking other forms, if nothing else. "Odo," she says, "it's been 80 years. I'm 113, now."
"Oh," he says, and then Nerys can see him remembering the things he knows about solids. Things about age, and death. "Oh," he says again, and Odo winds his arms around her, elongating them so that they encircle her old body several times.
Once upon a time, Nerys might have found that creepy. Fortunately, she's older and wiser than that, now.
They stand together, body and body, arm in arm. It is exactly what Nerys wanted. She takes a deep breath, and prepares herself to ask the question that she's spent so long preparing.
In the end, she takes refuge in a soldier's blunt language, just as she has always done. "I'm dying," she says to Odo.
He doesn't look surprised. He nods.
"I've got Grev-Lal's Syndrome," she continues. "It's a neurodegenerative disease, with no known cure. Over the next one to three years, my mind will deteriorate until I don't know who I am anymore. Until I cannot move, or speak. Eventually, even the automatic functions will shut down." Odo's only response is to wrap himself around her even tighter. She thinks whimsically that he must feel stretched-out, like a spring. That this might be even more strange to him than it is to her.
"Odo," she says, and pulls back so that she can look him in the eyes. "I'm here to ask if you will help me die."
**********
When she's finished explaining what she wants, Odo is silent for a long moment, but Nerys is not afraid.
It's out of her hands now. She's said all that she has to say.
"Yes," he says, finally. "Yes. I will... We will do this." Odo's voice sounds thick and hoarse. Nerys wonders if that's a conscious copy of human mannerisms, or whether it's somehow an innate response. Perhaps his body is recovering the instincts learned during Odo's many years spent in humanoid form.
Oh, my beloved is so strange. But in his strangeness, still beloved, and there's no one else for her. No one else that Kira Nerys would rather die with.
"How long do you have," Odo asks, "before they get anxious and come back down to check?"
"Oh," Nerys says, "The crew? I don't know. Maybe an hour?"
"An hour," Odo says. "They must respect you greatly, to be willing to leave their living legend alone on the surface of a dangerous planet for so long."
"They'd better," Nerys says, and then, "Living legend, my arse."
"Whatever you say," Odo says, and then shoots her a familiar, teasing grin. "Navarch."
"Oh, by the Prophets," Nerys says. "However did you even know that?"
"I heard them speaking to you before you left. Not that it's any surprise," Odo says. "I was honestly shocked that they hadn't gotten around to giving you the title sooner. When was it that they finally pulled their heads out of their asses long enough to recognize the hero in their midst?"
Nerys swats at him. "Oh, hush," she says, blushing. "It was about 60 years ago, when Bajor finally joined the Federation and my rank of General became formally obsolete."
Odo shakes his head, and tuts. "Took them long enough." He threads their fingers together; it takes Nerys a second to notice that he's sprouted an extra finger on each hand, so that he can fully enclose her own.
"So, we have about an hour," Odo says. "And obviously I have a lot of catching up to do. So, General Kira... Tell me about Bajor." He flows and forms himself into a sort of half-couch/half-human configuration, and pulls Nerys back to recline on the cushioned part. She allows herself to relax fully, and then she begins to speak.
**********
"I wanted to come back, you know," Odo says.
Nerys has fallen silent, reaching the point in her tale where Bajoran and Cardassian children play together in the streets, and the spires of Mh'kala are old enough already to require renovation. (The necessary construction projects are finally scheduled to begin next spring. Nerys wrote a letter to the Assembly in support of the project, and signed it "General Kira Nerys, Navarch of Bajor". She's always tried to use her powers only for good.)
"I really did," he insists. "It's easy to lose track of things in the Link, but I never forgot. I always wanted to return."
"Then why didn't you?" Nerys says. There's no judgment in her voice; she's past the time for such concerns.
Odo sighs. "It's difficult to explain it to a solid."
"Try me." She's not afraid to let a little challenge enter her voice. That's one thing that Nerys has always loved about Odo; he's not intimidated by her, so she's free to challenge him without fearing that he will foolishly give way. Over the years, that sort of give and take has become increasingly rare in Nerys' relationships.
One of the dangers of becoming a living legend, she supposes.
"Very well." The part of Odo that is a bed rises up around her, drawing her in a little bit deeper. She snuggles down into it, no longer bothered in any way by Odo's form. "You have to understand that for my people, taking the form of a solid has over the millennia become deeply associated with... negative emotions. With hatred and prejudice, underscored by a deep fear."
"But I thought that the changelings enjoyed trying on different forms, in order to learn about their essences. After all, 'to become a thing is to know that thing', isn't that true?"
Odo hesitates. "It is true. But fear was the initial motivation for my people to separate themselves from the Link, and fear has always been deeply entwined with the act of separation. For a long time, as long as the members of this Link can remember, even the impulse toward gaining knowledge has been deeply marred and twisted. Changing has become a tool of dominance, and of war." Nerys strokes the Odo-bed beneath her, and it ripples around her fingers like the fur of some powerfully-muscled beast.
"For the past 75 years," he continues, "the part of the Great Link that was and is called Odo has been trying to convince the rest of our-self that we were wrong. That we should not fear all solids, because they do not all wish every Changeling harm. That there is room in the universe for Changelings and solids to coexist peacefully. Even that we can teach and learn from one another." On a whim, Nerys turns her head and kisses Odo, and the part of him that currently has a face smiles back at her.
The smiles fades, and the face says, "The part of us that is Odo believed that it might do irreparable harm to his cause, if he left the Link before his work was done. Before all parts of our-self fully understood and accepted what he was saying." Odo pauses. "It was... distressing, to have parts of our-self at odds with one another, within the Great Link."
Nerys sits straight upright. "Oh," she says. "Did I... I mean, I hope I didn't cause any harm with my arrival. I hope that my making you leave did not set back your efforts."
"No, ja'ital. In fact, your timing was impeccable. You've always been adept at knowing exactly when to make your move." Odo smiles at her fondly, but his gaze is far away. "We just achieved a new state of agreement among our-self, a few days... or maybe it was weeks ago. At any rate, certainly no longer than a year."
"Oh? And what was this agreement?"
"We had to take the memories and experiences of the Odo-part into our-self, and explore them for quite some time, before we could fully understand his wisdom. It was a big change, and we were scared. If we made the wrong decision, if we were once again misled, it could lead to the final destruction that we have resisted for so long. He was asking a great deal of us, and we had to be sure." As Odo speaks, his eyes lose their focus and his voice subtly changes, taking on both higher and lower overtones. It sounds female and male and genderless, youthful and middle-aged and old. "But finally we knew all of Odo's experiences, and we understood. All parts of our-self understood."
"What did you understand, exactly, ja'ital?" Nerys asks. She's not quite certain to whom she is speaking, anymore.
"We understood that there are experiences that you solids call 'love' and 'friendship' and 'empathy', and that these things are not like the Great Link, but nonetheless they allow you solids to link with one another in your own way. Furthermore, we understood that these experiences are not shadows or inferior copies of the Great Link, but separate and worthwhile phenomena in their own right, deserving of further study and exploration."
"We understood that, just as we have the ability to do something which you solids do not — to join with our-self in the Great Link — you also have the ability to do something which we do not. You are able to understand and to 'empathise' with others through the mind alone, without needing to take on alternate physical forms. We find this ability fascinating."
"Do you," Nerys says. She's finding herself at a loss for words.
"Yes," Odo says. "He taught..." He breaks off, and his eyes suddenly focus on Nerys again. "I taught them," he says slowly. "I taught the Great Link that."
Nerys throws both of her arms around the part of Odo that is supporting her. He regrows a pair of arms, so that he can hold her in return. "That's wonderful, Odo," she says. "I'm so proud of you." She rubs her cheek against him. "You've changed the course of your entire species. I hope you're proud."
He holds her tight. "You have done so too, Nerys," he says slowly. "I couldn't have done it without you."
**********
Nerys' communicator beeps. She'd set it to warn her when 45 minutes had passed. She pulls it off of her collar, turns it over in her hand.
"Bajoran," Odo comments. "Like the ones we used to have, back on DS9." He pauses. "Not Starfleet?"
"Oh," Nerys says, "I have a Starfleet one, of course, but I didn't bring it with me." She hesitates, as if preparing to reveal a deep secret. "I always kind of thought that their symbol was really ugly."
Odo laughs.
After a few seconds, Nerys tosses the communicator away. It lands about 15 feet from them, sending up a puff of pinkish dust from the dry ground. The sea of Changeling shimmers and ripples around them, possibly responding to the vibrations of the impact.
Nerys looks at it, and takes in a deep breath. "Well, I guess that this is it, then."
"Are you sure?" Odo says. "Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want?"
Nerys smiles, and for some reason tears come to her eyes. She doesn't understand why. She'd thought that she was done with crying.
"Odo," she says, "I made my peace with death a hundred years ago, when I first became a soldier." She swipes at her cheek. "You have to understand: I was twelve years old when I joined the Resistance, and I figured that I might last about a year. If I was lucky, one year. Before I was caught, tortured, and killed."
"When I was thirteen — " Her voice breaks, unexpectedly, and she has to take a moment just to breathe.
Odo waits patiently, without speaking, which is exactly the right thing for him to do.
"When I was thirteen," Nerys says again, "I used to pray to the Prophets that when I was killed, a Cardassian would trip over my corpse and bruise his chufa on a rock." She huffs a wry laugh through her tears. "One last 'fuck you' to my people's oppressors."
"I'm sorry," Odo says, and it seems wholly inadequate and yet also the most important statement in the world.
"That's alright," Nerys says, sniffling. "The point is that somehow I didn't die when I was thirteen, nor fourteen nor fifteen either, and now it's a whole century later and the Occupation seems like a distant vision to most people. Which is good; it's exactly what I've prayed for, all these years."
"No Bajoran thirteen-year-old is having dreams about the fifty different ways that she could die. They're all too busy playing dahl-kat, and chasing after other boys and girls, and piercing their nose ridges, and studying for their literature exams."
"As it should be," Odo says. "I hope that they've remembered that they have you and the other Resistance fighters to thank for that."
"Oh, they have," Nerys says. "I've got a rather frightening amount of influence, these days. I don't think anyone in Parliament or the Vedek Assembly would dare to speak out against legislation that I publically support. And they don't need someone who has that kind of power hanging around interfering, while suffering from Grav-Lal's." Her gaze goes distant for a moment. "Right now, I try very hard not to abuse my power, but when I'm not in my right mind anymore, who knows?"
"Besides, after I'm gone, I fully expect that they'll put up some kind of hideous statue in my honor." She shudders dramatically, and smiles at Odo. "I'm just glad that I won't have to see it."
Nerys straightens up, and swings her legs over to the ground. She stands, and stretches her arms as high as she can. She looks up at the purple sky, takes a deep breath and lets it out, and feels peace enter her lungs.
"The point I was trying to make," she says, "is that the past one hundred years of my life have been purely a gift from the Prophets. They're nothing that I earned; they're nothing that I deserved. And now it's time to return that gift to its creators, while I can still do so with reverence and grace. So: yes, I'm certain."
Odo shimmers and shrinks back into his most humanoid form, and wraps his arms around Nerys. She looks up at him with love. "It's time, Odo."
"Alright, Nerys." They embrace as two humanoids together, one last time. "I love you, Nerys," Odo whispers against her head. "I have loved you, and I love you, and I will love you forever."
"I love you, Odo," she replies. "I wish we could have had more time like this, together." He starts to say something, but she puts her hand over his mouth. "But we're here now, and that's exactly what I wanted." She straightens up. "Let's do this."
Odo holds out his hands to her, and she takes them in her own. He steps backward, step by step, leading her right up to the edge of the Great Link. When his foot touches, it begins to shimmer and dissolve, but he maintains his solid form. "I love you, Nerys," he says again, and then he takes another step.
Nerys wades into the Great Link.
Based solely on apperance, she had expected it to feel warm and viscous, something like stepping through hot mud. But it's not like that at all, it's... It feels like everything, that's the only way that she can think it. It's every type of sensation, coming all at once. Hot and cold and pleasure and pressure and lightness and smoothness and roughness and pain, all mixed.
She takes one step and another, and then she sinks to her knees. The last remnants of Odo, his torso and head and his hands, begin to shimmer and dissolve. "I love you," she whispers.
Just before he melts away, she can hear him, one final time. "I love you, Nerys." He disappears, and suddenly she can feel him all around her. The quality of the Link changes, and she can tell that Odo is there. All around her, holding her.
Ready to help her Change.
Nerys turns around and lies down on her back, and then she picks up her feet and lets the Great Link take her.
**********
As she sinks beneath the surface, suddenly she can hear them. All of them, all of the Changelings. Every part of the Great Link. Their voice is male and female and free of gender, old and young and middle-aged, yet at the same time it is all one voice.
Time skips and stutters, grinding to a halt. She can feel It seeping into her, the Great Link beginning to Change her. To take her solidness apart.
There's no pain; he won't allow it. The pain receptors are the very first things that they disconnect. Nerys feels only calm, and a deep sense of rightness. Joy and peace, and a sense of overwhelming welcome.
The Link speaks to her, somehow, echoing inside her mind. We welcome you, Kira Nerys, It says. Beloved of the Odo-part, and thus beloved of our-self as a whole.
Odo, she thinks. Beloved.
We are here, It replies. We love you, Kira Nerys.
You are the solid who taught our-self about love. You are the solid who taught our-self to love solids. Now we will return the favor, and teach you how to Change. And she understands it now, finally she understands. She can hear Odo in the voices, can understand exactly how he is and is not separate. How he is and is not every single molecule that's here.
We will teach you how to Change. We will do this because we love you.
I'm ready, Nerys thinks. There is no longer any space in her for fear.
Suddenly a wave of sensation breaks in her mind, and she is awash in the greatest pleasure that she has ever known. It's like an orgasm, multiplied a thousand times over; it's like giving birth, but even more intense. It rushes over her and through her, and Nerys lets herself fall into it and through. And it's Odo, all of it, comforting and familiar, and it's love and it's belonging, and it's all knowledge of all things, and
neuron by neuron
cell by cell, the
Navarch
General
Captain
Colonel
Major
terrorist
Kira
Nerys
learns how to Change.
And then she Changes.
And then there is no "she".
**********
We will remember, the Great Link says to Itself. For as long as this Link stands, she will exist within our-self.
She who changed worlds, who was called Kira Nerys.