NEW: I Have No Tears And I Must Cry 1/1 DS9 [R] (O/K)
Michael Roy Hollihan
Author: Michael Roy Hollihan (holl...@bellsouth.net)
Series: DS9
Part: NEW 1/1
Rating: [R] (Language and intensity)
Codes: O/K
Archivist: ASC, please do! @}-------- A rose for your hard work.
Summary: With apologies to Harlan Ellison; a very different Odo and his
very different relationship to Major Kira.
Disclaimer: Star Trek, Voyager, and its characters are the property of
Paramount. This story is mine and is not intended for profit. All
rights not Paramount's are mine. No reposting or distribution without
prior consent.
================
Dear Reader,
This began as a writing exercise (Imitate the masters, learn their
secrets!), and took on a life of its own. Be warned that this Odo bears
no relationship to the one you know.
Comments, observations, criticisms always welcomed. Even in public.
Mike Hollihan
Memphis, TN
(Remove the NOT when hitting REPLY)
================
I Have Not Tears And I Must Cry
Michael Roy Hollihan
No horror I had seen in the days of Terok Nor prepared me for the
cold-steel trap of Major Kira's smile, and the lingering death it would
cause. For 1746 days I have been a prize, nailed to the wall in the
trophy room of her soul, waiting for death. No amount of struggle,
planning or deceit will save me. She is
two-steps-ahead-and-one-to-the-side of anywhere I think she might be.
The solids tell me this is love, but I feel like a vole in the sights of
a phaser rifle. And behind the sights are the hard black diamonds of
Kira's eyes. I am pinned, watching the hunter watch me. Waiting...
8... 7... 6...
I am cursed to be among them--the solids. I am a mouse in a cat
factory, a spy in enemy headquarters. Any moment I will be caught,
unless I am always watchful. And they mock me with their casual
overtures, their comradery. They pretend to be my friend, to rat me
out.
Suspended, waiting for my life to start.
5... 4... 3...
Because my form mocks theirs, the solids presume to understand me. They
see my external form and human behaviors and read their own selves into
them. I can see their fear and distrust every day. They choose not to
demonize me, because of their principles, so they humanize me instead.
A fly in a web.
2...
Everything in my office just so. She would notice mistakes and torture
me for them.
1...
Nownownownownownow
Kira enters my office and picks up her cup of raktajino. She smiles as
she sips; falling into her chair without looking. The routine is to
fool me. She knows exactly where the seat is, every time.
"How are you today, Odo?"
"Fine. A quiet night." I walk on razor wire, balancing fear and
desire. She might come at me from any direction. She plays innocent
and unknowing, but her cunning is beyond comprehension.
"Not for me. I'm so tired. Shakaar and I said our good-byes last
night." She smiles shyly, looking into her coffee cup; but I knew she
was gauging me.
Which way? Which way? "I... well-"
"Oh, Odo, I'm sorry. You don't want to hear about my personal life."
But she has stabbed my heart already, knowing full well. She picks up
her padd, reading the day's criminal reports. Every molecule of my
being screams, in rage and fear. I wait to see what salt she will pour
on her wound.
I carefully modulate my "uniform" so that it reads HATE in
just-subliminal color variations. Where she cannot see it, I morph my
foot into a giant penis and waggle it at her. My revenges are small. I
am careful. Very careful.
"Odo?" She is looking at me, in patient concern. I panic and turn the
penis back into a foot. The one million and thirteen HATEs on my
uniform disappear. SheknowsSheknowsSheknows...
"I'm sorry, Major. It was a quiet night. I had to arrest a Bolian
freighter captain trying to smuggle some stolen tech, and a pickpocket
we found on the Promenade. Broke up one fight. That's all, really." I
modulate the pupils of my eyes into twin pictures of Shakaar being
eviscerated; only for a second, lest she catch me.
But of course, she pretends to ignore me too well. She is still
scanning the padd. Both of my feet are penises now, winking and
waggling at her.
"Fine, Odo." She yawns. I watch her closely--this is the warning
sign. "I'm going to Ops, then. Man, I could use some sleep." She
stands to stretch. Flaunting herself! Daring me...
Bitch! Monster! Torturer!
She leaves, and I am briefly free.
=== === === ===
I am imitating a wall plate in Quark's. I watch him and his customers,
waiting for crime. I observe solids with senses that far exceed
anything they can imagine. I know their thoughts, so simple are all of
them.
All except her.
They assume that because I mimic them, I am like them. I am not. I am
beyond them. As unlike them as they are to bacteria. Bacteria do not
have feelings; neither do I.
But they persist in their horrible delusions. And I am their victim.
Every one of them has taught me something.
Dr. Pol, who "discovered" me, taught me much. How to hate, how to
resist, and how not to care.
Dukat taught me more, though he does not even acknowledge me now. The
uses of fear and pain; casual, cold indifference; how to say one thing,
mean another, and do something else altogether.
The Founders taught me who I am, and what that means. Then they took it
away to teach me new lessons--ones they did not anticipate, I'm sure. I
experienced all the solid things I had only learned of. Even sex--a
painful, degrading, pointless experience. I learned many things that
mimicry cannot teach.
And when I took the dying Changeling infant's life to restore my own, I
was finally ready. So I thought.
Kira taught me something else. All my life to that point was only as
the moment when the inquisitor walks into the cell and looks at her
instruments. She has trapped me in games so complex that even I cannot
understand them--and I have been able to uncode my own DNA. She holds
me in her hand, constantly threatening to drop me, never letting me
know which way I might fall. I am in a perpetual state of vigilance and
terror.
And it is never enough. She is always there with something new. I long
to get away, but there is nowhere for me. And there is always Kira.
I cause my body to emit a low-frequency vibration. All Quark's bottles
of drink will now go bad. I create a telepathic organ, aiming it at two
Klingons arguing in the corner. One of them will now kill the other,
when they fight later.
Something is wrong.
I scan the room with 43 senses, when she walks in with Shakaar.
I am so stunned I nearly give myself away. Liar! It was another
trap--he did not leave. Her games are endless and byzantine.
I pry apart the wall plates to create a hole small enough to allow
myself to go through the wall. Moving carefully, so she cannot see.
Flowing through walls and conduits. I finally reconstitute as "Odo" in
the hallway. I return to Quark's.
Shakaar sees me and looks away. He is well-trained. I know he knows
her games with me. She sees his movement and turns to me.
The look, the smile, the teeth. The raging inferno of slow death. She
holds his hand, fingers intertwined in a mocking parody of Changeling
fusion.
"Odo, guess what? We're engaged! Shakaar changed his mind about--"
Before I can react, Quark has heard. "Major, that's wonderful news.
Buy a round to celebrate with the whole bar." She breaks her smile with
me to glare at Quark; I know his tortures will come later.
I take in the whole scene in Quark's and create an identical
submolecular model inside myself. Then I crush them all. I manage a
smile, before she suspects.
"Major, I am very glad for you. Now if you'll excuse me..." I leave
before she can do more.
Her mouth is open, surprised. "Wha-- Odo!" But I am gone. She may
have her victory, but she will not see my defeat.
=== === === ===
I am standing on a balcony overlooking the Promenade. I can see the
temple door as they exit, well-wishers cheering them on.
The Major looks right at me, knowing where to find me. Her trap is now
complete. She has found a new torture--so exquisite, so perfect.
I have no tears and I must cry.
THE END
DataLaur
The title caught my attention right off (I *adore* Harlan) and I just had to
read the story, though I usually skip DS9 stuff. I think you did very, very
well, and like Harlan, you came up with horrible images. The uniform was
great. The feet - inspired! The internal model - whew!
Great job!
laur