Disclaimer: Paramount couldn't give a pink stu^H^H^Hcare what I do with
their characters and universe, as long as they can do what they want to
with them. Well, I'm about to do what *I* want to do, and it's all
mine. BWA-HAHAHAHAHA...

                  Rebellion: His Dreams Come True
Catherine Allan

  Major Kira Nerys, one of the few survivors of the infamous Shakkar
Resistance cell, hero of Galitep, and seasoned warrior, ran like the
denizens of Hades were after her. Which was very close to the truth.
Every now and again, she would fire at her Jem'Hadar pursuers, just to
slow them down a little.
  Damn her government for thinking an alliance with the Dominion was
going to work in the first place. Few Bajorans left alive on the station
had formed their own pockets of resistance in less important areas of
the station. She knew they still lived because a so-far invisible team
of saboteurs kept plaguing the Founders, slowing their progress into
the alpha quadrant from their newly acquired power base.
  She'd kicked off her useless high-heels hours ago to gain much-needed
speed in her flight, and was now cursing the fact that her bare toes
were now cold and numb. _If only I'd kept my combat boots..._
  They were gaining on her.
  Behind her, Kira heard a force-screen snap into life, forcing the
Jem'Hadar to halt or be fried by the EM corona. In an instant, she knew
her hidden people were behind the move. "Prophets bless you!" Kira
called in Central Bajoran, and hearing the same tongue echo down the
halls.
  So. The Universal translators were down, as well.
  Allowed a pause, but never a break, Kira let herself slow, and padded
cautiously forward, praying that whoever had rescued her hadn't come
from one the many districts and never learned another tongue. If her
friends didn't understand her, they could very well kill her in the
mistaken belief she was a Founder spy. She ignored the dead-end
branches, only sparing them a cursory glance for ally or foe as she
padded on in the search for backup.
  Back at the force-screen, the Jem'Hadar were doing their level best to
pull it down. Kira picked up her speed, running to the nearest escape
route -- to discover a dead end. She spent only a moment venting her
rage in an animal howl before putting the wall at her back, and leveling
the aim of her weapon down the coridoor, and vowing to go down fighting.
  Then the wall grew arms and swallowed her whole.
  She barely had time to try and scream before she was extruded out the
other side, held fast in the arms of her Founder assailant.
  "Ko, ko, ko, ko..." the assailant murmured, as if calming a baby, then
he said something in a variant of DockSpeak.
  It took her a moment to translate, _Not a sound; *please*._ She knew
the voice, and almost wept. Odo. What was he doing pretending to be a
wall and talking a Cardassian/Bajoran creole? Kira relaxed in his grasp,
noting some familiar faces amongst the thin band of rebellion, including
Garak.

  "Hurry up," Odo hissed at the Cardassian tailor-spy.
  "This isn't easy," Garak continued to slot subsections of false wall
together, passing them into the shapeshifter's substance, "especially
communicating in this brute-force language."
  "Hush." Odo closed his eyes so he could 'see' better out of the sight-
membranes positioned on his other side. The Jem'Hadar had broken through
their safety-shield, and were searching the dead-ends with mistified
expressions on their faces. Another puzzling 'dissapearance' to add to
their tally of victories. In a minute or two, they would leave, allowing
them the freedom to assemble the real fake wall in relative peace.
  Kira was moving, ever so slightly, in his embrace. He'd kept his hand
over her mouth as a measure of insurance, now it slipped as he felt her
eyes on him.
  The Jem'Hadar were leaving. Odo opened his eyes to find hers. "Nerys,"
he whispered, it was probably the only word she understood of his home-
tongue. His variant of DockSpeak had a different name - Lab. For a
further moment, he couldn't talk; their faces were close. Very close,
"I've loved you for so long..."
  She surprised him by speaking in the very same language, "You save
life mine. Think you died. Think me dead." Her hands were trying to
embrace him, embedding themselves in his substance.
  Odo barely suppressed a groan of pleasure, but did nothing to still
his desire to kiss her. She kissed him back, and he forgot all bout
keeping a part of himself as a wall.

  They both ignored the Cardassian's soft curses as their bodies met in
a flurry of desire.
  Garak sighed, continuing to assemble the barrier, and praying none of
the enemy heard the couple's cries. "It's always the same on the front,"
he complained.

  Major Kira Nerys muffled a sigh of relief when she entered the rebel's
nerve centre. The air was blood-hot, and her frozen toes were zinging
with pleasure-pain. By her side, her Changeling friend smiled, switching
to Central Bajoran for her benefit.
  "You don't have to be quiet, beloved. We made sure nothing would be
heard before we moved in." At a challenge from a Mountain-Dock-speaking
guard, Odo switched tongues again to introduce her. Kira recognised her
name, the word 'love' and an order for the man to relax before he
sprained something untranslatable and rude; if the man's wry smile was
any judge. Odo continued to guide her through the siezed corridors, "The
only languages we have in common are variants of DockSpeak, and High
Bajoran, the latter of which is no use. It has no words for 'fight',
'enemy' or 'now'."
  "Amongst others," Kira rubbed her hands, blowing on them to warm them
faster. She was sure she was red as her filthy uniform, and slightly
frostbitten. "Don't you have an adjustment zone or something?"
  "Sorry," He spared a moment from her to question a heavily pregnant
woman at a console. This time she understood the exchange; they were
monitoring Dominion communications through a hardwired translation
device. "The temparature inside has to be warmer than the people,
otherwise we'd stand out like suns on a thermal scan. We tricked the
computer into thinking we're a hazardous, radioactive spill from the
first Occupation."
  _So, you think of this thing the same way, too. The Second Occupation
of Bajor, and this time, the enemy can infiltrate *very* easily._ They
entered a room full of pilfered medical equipment, and one of Bashir's
ex-medical staff.
  "I have to leave you here, beloved; we're massing a strike on the
Founder's drug factory. Toprem will patch you up while we're gone." A
fleeting, nearly crushing embrace, and Odo forced himself away with a
tiny noise of anguish.
  "So *you're* the Constable's lady-love, eh?" Toprem grinned, "Had my
theories about you - then so'd everyone else," he laughed while treating
her chilled feet and hands, "Half the Cell thought you were just an
ideal, the way he talked about you. When we could *get* him to talk
about you. There were times when he'd be up all hours, trying to find a
loner to save, muttering in Lab about his beloved Nerys, hoping that the
loner he was tracking was going to be you. Now we've got you Inside, the
Founders are going to have a *real* bad time." Toprem fished inside a
cabinet, producing fur-lined boots that looked too big for her feet, let
alone anyone else's. "We get stocks of these from 'Templer', ever since
the first few loners came in with bare feet. You'd think the Bajoran
Militia would learn that traction counts, eh?"
  Kira agreed with Toprem, flexing her toes in the fuzz as the man
continued to treat her bruises and scrapes. "How long has this been
going *on*?"
  From Toprem, Kira learned much about the new Resistance. Over the past
months, Cells were cropping up on Bajor, causing trouble as only
Bajorans knew how; threatened villiages turned out to be abandoned by
the time the Jem'Hadar reached them, and factories that the Dominion
needed turned up as wide, smoking craters. Those forced to work under
the Dominion were carefully and deliberately stupid; 'dumb' enough to
mis-understand a simple order, but just smart enough not to get
themselves killed in the process.
  And incidentally, nearly every female Resister on the station was
pregnant. Those who chose to be so were protected by the rest of the
Cell, Odo chief amongst the number of guardians.
  Toprem grinned at Kira's stare. "Don't be so alarmed, Major. You
remember the first occupation, how a near-miss with Death gave you a new
appreciation for life? Our leader's been celebate until your rescue, if
that's what you're worrying... he lets every member of the Cell choose,
then stands by them whatever they decide. Those in tricky stages of
expecting stay at base, the ones who aren't, fight."
  Kira knew the tactic. Even the presence of a pregnant woman gave those
fighting something to fight *for*, a tangible goal to protect. It tended
to slow or halt suicidal moves, as every member of the team had at least
one very good reason to keep breathing. The knowledge that the cell had
a child, or children to live for made them fight harder.
  The Cardassians had had a saying; 'better to dive into the sun than
face a Bajoran with child'.
  Kira was shown into the tactics room, where numerous maps were
displayed. Not just the station, but also areas of Bajor. There were
hundreds of minor skirmishes mapped out here, all with a unified goal.
_Holy Prophets... if we were like this against the Cardassians, we'd be
conquering the galaxy by now._
  "Welcome to Odos resistance Cell," grinned one of the tacticians,
working one-handed, since the other arm was in a cast.
  "All this is *his*?"
  "Not exactly. Odo just organised it - if you listen to him; if you
listen to me, he's a genius. No-one else could unite Bajor like *this*."

  The skirmishers returned, Kira helping the wounded and exhausted out
of their secret airlock. Every time she helped a Cell member out of the
pit-like hole, she stared with hopeful eyes into the gloom beyond,
hoping to find the Constables face. Every time, a stab of anxiety ran
through her.
  Kira learned that Odo was often the first in, and the last out, that
day.
  Finally, the arm that grasped hers resulted in the one face she'd been
looking for. Kira let out a sob of relief, and trapped him in a fierce
embrace.
  "I missed you too..." breathed the Changeling, completing his climb
without letting her go.
  "Don't you dare leave me behind again!" Kira clutched at him, "I kept
wondering where you were, what you were doing... if you were alive..."
  He soothed her fears with kisses, much to the amusement of their
fellow Cell-members.
  "The Constable will have something more to fight for, soon, eh?"
Toprem murmured, patching some wounds on the spot.

Odo swallowed fear, buried it deep in his being. Unbidden, one of his
hands sought the one person he was concerned for, above all others in
their little vessel, beside him.
  "Relax," Kira leaned across from her seat to hug him, "I've done this
before."
  He held her. "The first time I saw you, you were so *thin*... I wanted
to keep you safe. I still do."
  "You can't be safe *and* alive, dearling," Kira soothed, "I'd rather
live, and live well."
  A small noise escaped him, "I know." Odo breathed, "Just not so soon,
please?"
  She smiled, "I promise I'll be careful. Looks like it's time for the
briefing."
  Odo stumbled out of their clinch, standing to address the strike
group, "Today we're pulling a rescue," he announced in words all of them
could understand, "The Founders are using the old Bajoran Research
Centre for experiments on children..." His voice stopped, "orphans,
mostly."
  There was a murmur of hatred from the group. Kira had heard stories of
what had been done in htere to Bajoran orphans during the first
occupation. She'd never had the courage to ask her lover if they were
true. Technically, he'd been among the number of 'orphans' in the
centre.
  "We're going to get them out. *All* of them; and then we're going to
leave a crater where the Bajoran Research Centre stands."
  Everyone nodded. The words "never again" had appeared on the research
centre in the past, now they were a prophecy.
  Never again!
  Kira had witnessed atrocities firsthand, and was vowing the same vow
that every other Bajoran swore as they aimed whatever they had at the
new invaders. _How is Bajor going to survive, this time?_

  Now she was herding a group of terrified children down the hallway and
towards their shuttle. The older children were silent, businesslike, and
they remembered the last time something like this had happened. The
younger ones cried, but they still moved.
  _Where *are* you, Odo?_ Kira scanned the hall again, and finally
spotted the Constable.
  He was nearly unrecognisable, weighed down with tiny infants, carrying
each in an arm, or a gellid sling, shambling along with two more
clinging to his legs. She knew, in that instant of seeing him, that he
was pushing his personal limit.
  Kira also recognised the very moment that things were going to go
wrong, and acted accordingly, frightening all the babies.
  She charged towards Odo, them past him, covering the coridoor with
blasts of phaser fire.
  Killing three Jem'Hadar, and wounding a Founder.
  "Nerys?"
  "GO!" More lances of red death sought out the enemy. "Hurry!"
  Never again would the innocent suffer for the advancement of the
cruel.

  Better to dive into the sun, they had said, than go in against a
Bajoran with child.
  Part of Odo seperated from the rest of him, which was busy carting
himself and an overload of infants to rescue, and that part thought that
the phrase was mountain-shattering-important.
  Behind him, Odo could sense/feel, Kira was carving burning holes in
the walls, walking backwards and screaming something vile. She wouldn't
let her guard down for a nanosecond, until everything she had to protect
was relatively safe.
  Everything she had to protect...
  Now, either she'd adopted these young in an instant - or.
  ...a Bajoran with child.
  Odo pushed himself harder. He was going to pay for this, but he no
longer cared. Some part of him was Bajoran, too. That piece of Bajor
reeled in the trailing children on his legs, and tried to run.

  They told stories about it, later, when everyone who remembered
stopped having nightmares. How the Constable, loaded down with children,
came barrelling towards the transport at top speed, and they realised he
wasn't going to stop...
  How he'd just stomped his feet, and skidded the rest of the way in.
  How three of the children had fallen asleep during the ride, _and
didn't wake up until they were halfway to the station_.
  Then, shuddering a little at the memory, they would talk about the
Major, cursing vehemently in every language she knew, demolishing the
floor and every Jem'Hadar in it.
  They would talk about how Odo had to shout her into turning the phaser
off before she leaped into the shuttle.
  Then, laughing manically, they'd announce that was how the entire cell
learned about the most infamous pregnancy in the new resistance.
  They had a good laugh; most of it nervous.

  "Did you have to adopt *all* of them?" Kira repeated herself, staring
at the proliferation of cribs and cradles all over their mutual
quarters. Every single child he'd carried home was there.
  Odo, wan and smiling, petted the last sleeping baby. "I've decided,
Nerys, that I'm going to do everything I enjoy to excess. I've also
decided that I'm definately going to enjoy being a parent."
  "How do *you* know about that? I wasn't sure..."
  "The raid, today, proved you had something very precious to protect."
Odo sighed, sitting on their bed, then leaning into the pillows.
"Prophets, I'm tired... nothing's more precious than a new life. Every
Bajoran knows that." His form was looking a little plastic, now that he
wasn't concentrating so much on appearances. "We're going to be a
family."
  "You need to rest, dearling," she whispered, "and it's way too soon to
start thinking like that. Even if we *weren't* fighting, things can go
wrong."
  "I know, but - can't I dream? Just a little?"
  "We can dream, dear one. We *will* dream."
  Odo wrapped himself around the woman he loved, and drifted into
unconsciousness.
  Kira gently ran her fingers over his silky skin, guiding his native
form into the hollow in their bed reserved for him.
  What would this little surprise mean for their future?

Kira woke slowly, not to the sounds of klaxons or firing or any other
indications of emergency. She enjoyed the quiet sounds, and the distant
rumble of her love's voice as he chatted to one of the babies. Her eyes
drifted half-open, so she could watch without disturbing them.
  "Now," Odo was murmuring, "shall we try again?"
  This time it wasn't a baby he was murmuring to. It was an infant
Changeling.
  The Changeling, smaller than Odo's natural state, curled itself into a
simple spiral.
  Odo patted his hands together in quiet applause, "*Very* good! You're
improving every day - every moment..." He noticed her.
  Kira propped herself up. "Were you going to tell me about him? Or is
it 'her'?"
  Odo scooped the infant into his arms, holding it protectively, "I was
going to tell you today... but since you've already found out, I guess
I'd better."
  Kira waited, propping herself up with pillows.
  "When I poured the baby into my hands, it became part of my being; it
unlocked whatever the Founders did to me, and it linked with me. The
baby needed the support of a Changeling in order to heal, and without
knowing how - I helped it. It's only been recently that it's been able
to leave our link for any time without suffering any ill effects. The
baby's still healing, Nerys, and I still have to protect it."
  The infant squirmed in Odo's arms, forming a humanoid shape. A
perfect, adult humanoid, if greatly reduced in size. Then it tried to
speak. "Mmmmaaaaajjj-urrrr," it drawled, "mmmmaaaaa-mmmaaa?"
  Odo made a short noise, holding the infant in a close hug, "That's
right, little one, Nerys will be your mother; if she wants to." The baby
relaxed into it's native shape, its orange colour starting to muddy. "I
understand," Odo soothed, letting a hand melt into its form, "I'll help
you heal." They merged, then Odo re-formed his arm.
  "Oh, dear one," Kira sighed, "The only thing I don't understand is why
you didn't tell me sooner?"
  "Starfleet." Odo replied, "They'd take it. Kill it, or both of us, if
they knew. And when Starfleet left -- there was no time; the chaos.
Everything got in the way."
  "I won't let anyone do that, now or ever," Kira vowed, before
something occurred to her, "Why do you call the baby an 'it'? Isn't that
demeaning?"
  "The baby hasn't decided what it wants to be, yet," Odo shrugged,
patrolling the cribs, checking every one of his adopted family, "My
choice was less open; I only saw males for the first few years of my
life, I didn't know any other shape to imitate." He finally settled by
her side. "Now, my dearling, would you like breakfast, or to help me in
the labs?"
  "What're the labs?" Kira stood, shuffling her nightshirt down past her
hips.
  Odo smiled, "Let me show you."

  The labs turned out to be Odo's area for attempting chemical warfare.
There was just enough room to move between various scientific
instruments.
  "This used to be a distillery during the first occupation. After I
closed it down, I decided to keep its location secret, so no-one else
could take up where the bootleggers left off."
  "Where did all this equipment *come* from?" Kira stared at it, sample
containers lined shelves, as did rows apon rows of chemical compunds.
  "Templer brings them in on request. Thanks to them, we have every sub-
cell stocked with enough supplies and medical equipment to revive
*anything*. It's just up to me to find out what will hurt a Founder."
  Kira found herself picking up a vial. It contained a sample of Odo's
substance, still wriggling to join with him. "You've been experimenting
on yourself."
  "There aren't any alternatives, dearling," Odo supplied. "I'm the only
Changeling available, and - testing chemicals on samples is less risk to
me and the baby."
  "I still don't like it, Odo."
  "Would you have cut off a finger if you knew it would drive the first
occupation away?"
  "In an instant..." Kira admitted, absently tapping the glass. "I see
your point."
  Odo dialed up a journal on the lab's computer, written in a version of
Dockspeak that was nearly everywhere. "I've been trying to come up with
a compound that locks a Changeling in solid form. If it *is* all the
same, I'd rather not kill if we can avoid it."
  Kira read over the list of tried-and-fails, and widened her eyes at
the list of compounds they had yet to test.
  "Fortunately, the reaction time-window is relatively short," Odo
smiled, "I go through the compounds ten at a time. Let me draw off some
samples for you, and we can get started."
  It was nearly mind-numbingly dull. Kira had gone through the first
twenty before the novelty wore off. It took another fifty before she
felt like falling asleep on her feet. Another twenty had gone by before
she thought she'd found something.
  Kira had just introduced the last sample to the tenth compound of that
run, and levelled her gaze along the tubes. Goop, goop, goop, blood,
goop... "Prophets!" Kira seized the fourth container, holding it up for
Odo to see.
  He sighed with relief. "Now all we have to do is see if it lasts long
enough to be useful."
  The effects lasted five days. _How in the name of the Prophets are we
going to make this work?_ Kira asked herself, watching Odo play with
their adopted family, _Five days is nothing to them. A *century* is
nothing to them..._

Her sneezing had started the second day after their discovery of the
five-day formula. As a result, Kira Nerys was hard pressed doing
anything useful for more than a few minutes at a time. Odo stayed by her
side - or she wandered about by his, it was never very clear; remaining
at their base to formulate tactics and run one nerve-wracking test.
  Someone had volunteered to shoot a dart of five-day at a Founder, to
see if it worked on them. Odo only let the experiment progress since
Jori was the fastest tunnel-crawler in the Cell.
  Five-day apparently worked on only one Changeling. Their targeted
Founder had either shrugged off the effects, or was immune to the stuff.
  Kira sat, nursing one of their eighteen adopted children, "We'll think
of something, dearling," she soothed, "I *know* we will."
  Odo's thoughts had gone within, he had that familiar, distant look as
he held another baby close to him. "A mother contacted us." Odo finally
announced, "She's looking for her baby. Stolen by the Founders."
  Kira was forced to stifle another barrage of sneezes.
  "I did some tests." Another hug, "This is her baby."
  She never knew how she got beside him, but her next memory was holding
Odo in one arm, and the nursing infant in another, quieting them both.
  "I don't want to loose them all," Odo was murmuring, "but I don't want
them to loose their families. Their *true* families."
  She wept with him.

  Four adopted infants so far had had family on Bajor. Odo hovered
between dispair at seeing them go and joy at uniting a family. Other
rebels were going through the same process, having fostered rescuees,
then having to send them home. _At this rate, the Founders are going to
bring out the worst in us. Will we be Bajorans then?_ Odo found himself
wondering, even as he taught their baby Changeling to walk.
  The little Changeling had taken a more appropriate shape, and Odo
learned that the rounded form of a child was slightly easier to mimic
than an adult. Nerys had taken to calling the little Changeling 'Ralin',
meaning 'wonder'. As far as Odo could tell, Ralin was overjoyed at the
name, even though it was still choosing its ultimate form and identity.
  So strong was Ralin, now, that it could wander freely about the base
for days on end.
  "It's nearly time for us to use that five-day formula," Odo whispered
to his beloved Nerys that night, snuggling close to feel their baby's
first bumps against her womb. "There's only one way to do so. I'm sorry,
beloved."
  Nerys sighed, sneezed, and kissed what she could reach of him, "Please
don't do it. They could kill you."
  "They'll want me to betray us, first. If I don't talk, they'll have to
keep me alive."
  "But they'll hurt you."
  "I'm used to pain." He melted himself around her body, "Beloved, it's
the only way. I *have* to make them see what they've become."

  The Founder looked down at the prizoner, and felt a thrill of fear at
the sight of it - him. A solid in their midst. This one had never been
tamed, and fought the true rule of the Dominion. "Pick it up." Ordered
the Founder, "Make it look at me."
  The solid had been hit around his face a great deal before his
capture. One eye had swollen closed in the middle of a set of bruises
that dominated half of his face. Blood oozed out of numerous cuts, as he
panted with exhertion, or perhaps the cold. Hot breath steamed into
small clouds, and he still glared defiance at the Founder.
  "What is your name, solid?" The Founder was careful to speak Bajoran,
so the solid could understand.
  "Why? Do you want it? Steal it from me like you stole my home?"
  She struck him, squarely on a spot that hadn't gained a bruise, yet.
"You learn to answer, solid, without asking questions. What is your
name?"
  "Bajor." This earned him another blow. "Li Nalas." A third. "...*four*
lights, Cardie bastard... Nothing..." Four. "I'm nothing to you. Why not
keep it that way?" Five, six, seven. "Jorad..."
  The Founder stilled her hand. "Jorad, what?"
  "Jus' Jorad," he dripped more blood, drooling some as he sagged in the
Jem'Hadar's grip. "Parents died... I w's li'l. All I. Have. Is one
name."
  Intriguing. He was trying to stop himself passing out. His eyes had
gone unfocussed and his head lolled. "We have many questions to ask of
you, Jorad. You'll be rewarded for the right answers, and punished for
the wrong ones, of course."
  "I'm used t' pain." He leered at her, blood and spittle stringing
towards the floor, "I'll die 'fore y' get anythin' out'a me."
  She struck him once more, sending him mercilessly into
unconsciousness.

  Odo lifted the vial, having concentrated on his humanoid shape. At
least this time he could choose what race he belonged to. Nerys watched,
drinking in every detail of his Bajoran face, memorising it. Odo shed
the illusion of clothing, just in time, he couldn't very well be a
Bajoran whose skin was their uniform.
  He drank, forcing himself to swallow the bitter brew. Taste. A gag-
reflex. The five-day sank deeper into him, and he drew a surprised,
choking breath. _Concentrate!_ He burned, within and without. His
muscles rebelled and his bones ached.
  Nerys and Ralin were near, soothing him, comforting him. Ralin was
distraught, they couldn't Link.
  His breath whistled as he drew it for the first time, "It's going to
be alright, dearlings," he forced himself to sit, "remember the plan.
I'll be *fine*."
  "P-pah-pah..." Ralin was still trying to link, disturbed at the change
in him.
  "I'll be back to being a Changeling in five days, Ralin, it's
alright." Ralin tried to sob, embracing its parent. Odo returned the
hug. "There, now... ko, ko, ko, ko, ko..."
  Kira bought him some ill-fitting clothes, and a pair of Templer's fur-
lined boots. "You keep yourself safe, beloved," She, too, was holding
off tears, "Or I'll-- I'll knock the sense to do it into you."
  His whistling breath didn't worry him, overmuch, as it was probably a
side-effect of not concentrating enough on his form while the five-day
took hold. Just a minor flaw.

  It was getting harder for the solid to breathe. The Foundress could
tell. Jorad's mouth opened slightly with every intake, and his breathing
was getting louder. It wasn't a mere whistle, but a wheeze. Somewhere in
the last two days of interrogation, he'd picked up a cough more like a
bark, which often incapacitated him for minutes.
  Jorad regarded her with insolence as she stood opposite his jail-cell.
"I have questions for you, Founder," his breath rattled in his throat,
"if you let me ask you them, I may tell you something you might want to
know."
  "I do not make bargains with solids."
  "That's not what the Vorta tell me." Jorad paused to bark, this time
evicting a wad of phlegm into a corner, "They told me I could bargian
with you for - favours."
  "The Vorta are mistaken. Only members of the Dominion may - bargain;
with us."
  "Ah," Jorad sighed, leaning back on his pallet, "Well if you don't
want to know things, I can't tell you, eh?" A wheezy cough that sounded
almost like a laugh echoed around the room. "Such a pity."
  She paused, turned, and cursed herself for being curious. "Ask your
questions."
  "Why do you hate us so much, when we've done nothing to you?"
  "You are solids."
  "And?"
  "That is reason enough!"
  Wheeze, rattle, "I don't think so. You have plenty of 'solids' working
with you in the Dominion..."
  "They have ben tamed."
  "Alright then. Why do you hate 'wild' solids?"
  "They hunted us, because of what we are," said the Foundress, "and
when they caught us, we were beaten and killed."
  "So now you've turned the tables?"
  "*Yes*."
  "Does that make it right?" He barked some more, then stared at her,
"Or are you feeding trouble to justify exterminating every solid you
meet?"
  "Enough questions, *solid*," the Foundress snarled, "what information
do you want to tell me?"
  He wheezed a great deal before telling her, "There are two Changelings
in the Cell. One's a baby. The other one you know."
  "Where are they?"
  Jorad shook his head. "If you'd answered my questions, I might have
said..." more barking and expectorant, "such a pity."

He woke to an explosion, and barked rough coughs as the dust-cloud
hit. Judging by the feel of his lungs, some particles had got in there
and were ricochetting around in his bronchii as he breathed. Familiar
voices were calling his name. Phaser fire echoed in the rooms.
  'Jorad' cursed under his breath - what there was of it; and lurched
upright.
  "Is that you, or did someone kennel a dog in here?" Grinned a rebel.
  "No, I'm someone else," Jorad grated, coughing up what felt like half
a lung, "Who the hell told you to try and rescue me?"
  "Our leader..." the rebel frowned, "you should know that. Unless
you're a Founder spy..."
  "I know very well who the leader of the Rebellion is," Jorad wheezed,
"just as I know that *this* is an illusion." He stood, primarily for
effect. "Give it up, Founders. I know is just a trick."

  "*Damnit*..." the Vorta punched his console. "How the hell does he do
it? We're flat out trying to get him to accept it past a minute."
  "Disconnect the apparatus," ordered the Foundress, "it's pointless.
Obviously he planned to be left here, *with* their leader."
  "As you wish," the Vorta obeyed, then scurried into the shadows.
  The Foundress watched as Jorad came to. He seemed unsurprised that he
was now strapped into the harness for their illusion-device. "You have
an interesting mind, Jorad. How are you able to beat our dream-maker?"
  "It's better than life," his head lolled as much as it were capable,
and the man began to bark.
  The Foundress averted her eyes. Disgusting man.
  His breath rattled more than ever, "We could swap questions again," he
suggested, "that's always entertaining. Or you could beat me within an
inch of my life, and learn nothing."
  She scowled at him. "I notice that when 'we' swap questions, *I* do
most of the answering."
  "You do most of the asking. Fair's fair."
  "Where is the enemy?"
  Jorad laughed until he ran out of breathing space. "What's your name?"
  "Answer me!" She raised a fist, he didn't even bother to flinch. She
broke or fractured something in his arm.
  "Nothing for nothing, dear lady."
  "Jhyrl," the Foundress sneered, "for what it's worth."
  "Your enemy..." Jorad's eyes began to unfocus, his voice dropped to a
whisper, "for what it's worth... is behind... a mirror."
  "What does that mean? *Which* mirror?"
  "Why abandon children? Did you name them first?"
  "Useless!" Her fist struck a bruise that had begun to fade. Jhyrl
shuddered. Of all the useless, arrogant, ill-bred *solids* they had to
run to ground, her Jem'Hadar had to pick up *this* one. "*Why*?!"
  "...could ask the same," Jorad wheezed, "of you."
  "Because you're a *solid*, and deserve far worse." Jhyrl snapped.
  Jorad focussed himself, "You want to know why I'm here, Jhyrl? I'll be
honest with you." He paused to catch some more rattling breath, "While
I'm here, you aren't hunting the Cell."
  "You're here as a *decoy*?" This went beyond everything she knew of
his species.
  Wheeze, "In one sense. I'm expendable. The people who abandoned me
thought so. The ones who raised me thought so... I think so. But," Jorad
paused to gulp air. He'd been having more touble lately, "I'm also here,
as an object lesson."
  "And when does this lesson occur?"
  His eyes glazed again. "Tomorrow. Evening, I think; sometime around
night-cycle, anwyay."

  Three of them formed a co-op, waiting for what they called the seige
to end. Looking after twelve babies may have been easy for the
constable, but he needed less sleep. Ralin was a help, after the
Changeling had learned to walk without falling too often, often acting
as gopher while the rest of them while they changed, fed, calmed or
soothed the adopted infants.
  More parents were calling, seeking their children, and Kira mentally
tallied the anguish Odo would be going through if -- *when* he returned.
  Their twelve reduced to nine. Then increased to a figurative ten when
a fellow co-op member finally birthed her son.
  Nerys finally decided it was not the worst thing she could do to
herself. That was listening to the reports of what the Founders were
doing to her beloved Odo. _One more day,_ she reminded herself, burping
another baby, _One more day and he'll be with me._

  Jhyrl glared steadily at the solid. It had been hours, and watching
the man expell phlegm had not been entertaining. "What *is* this object
lesson, Jorad?"
  "Soon."
  "My patience is wearing thin," she warned.
  "And here I was thinking your kind were willing to wait centuries, if
necessary." He paused to evict another gobbet, "My mistake."
  She snarled, crossing the space between then to threaten a fist, "Just
hurry *up*."
  "I can start," Jorad managed, "I'm not who you think I am."
  "I guessed you were lying to me in some respects. It's expected."
  "I'm not even *what* you think I am." Jorad's figure lolled, his
breathing quickened. "You'll get to see it. Now..." He stifled a noise
of pain. Then he melted.
  He re-shaped into Odo. "You would have killed me in an instant, and
never known, *Founder*. It's like I told you; your enemy in behind a
mirror. *Any* mirror. Go look in one." He fled through a crack in the
wall.
  Jhyrl dropped to her knees and started to scream.

The first thing Odo did on his return was embrace his family. Then,
and only then, did he allow the weariness he felt show through as he
listened raptly to their unborn child. He was complete, this way,
with his family surrounding him, and his hand cupped lovingly over
Nerys' newly-showing child.
  Ralin had joined in the embrace, as had Liya, one of his adoptees who
had just begun to crawl. Liya grinned, showing tiny little teeth, and
dribbled slightly on her jumpsuit.
  Odo loved every one of them.
  "Bad day at the office?" Nerys smiled, holding them all close.
  He let loose a sigh like a man sinking into a warm bath after a long,
chilling day.
  "That bad." She sat with him on the floor, holding them, still. "Ial,
Yoris, Kodrom and Denee went to their families on Bajor."
  Odo hugged his children tighter, he could feel himself loosing
cohesion. So tired.
  "Rest, dearling," Kira soothed, "you need it."
  He had to tell her now, or risk everything, "I'll need medical
assistance," Odo managed, "the five-day - amplified; something wrong in
me. I - I feel ill..." He relaxed into his native form, sliding towards
his hollow in their bed, and much-needed rest.

  Kira fought down tears. After all this, they had to cope with his
illness, now. Both Liya and Ralin crawled into her lap. Ralin kissed her
tears as his 'father' had done once before.
  "We'll be fine," she reassured them, "Templer will get here soon, I
finally get to find out who they are, they'll help. They *have* to
help."
  "Papa beeeyoh kay," Ralin mauled, still having trouble with solid
words, "Mama-smile make Papa okay."
  Kira kissed him, "Yes, dearling. He'll be okay."
  Liya, of the same age as Ralin, give or take a few months, only
understood that the tears had stopped. "Mama," she smiled back, patting
Kira's expanding abdomen, "Baba. Happee!"
  _Hurry the hell up, Templer!_

  Odo was convalescent for three more days before Templer's vessel
finally showed up. Kira had more-or-less taken up the strategies where
he love had left off, but her difficulties with some dialects required a
small staff of translators by her side.
  Templer's ship looked to have survived a number of skirmishes getting
to them. It also appeared to be Starfleet.
  Kira's suspicion was confirmed when she met up with the rogue ex-
Starfleet officers at their poky mini-airlock. "I knew you wouldn't
abandon us, Emissary."
  "That's 'Captain' to you." He looked her up and down, focussing on her
dishevelled uniform, the children at her hips and legs, then resting on
her stomach. "Not again. Please tell me you're not pregnant *again*."
  She sneezed. "Sorry. At least this time the kid got there th' usual
way." Kira grinned, trying to be sly, "The father's extatic."
  "I'll bet he is," rumbled Sisko, stepping aside to let ex-Starfleet
officers Dax and Bashir through with a big box. The side read; 1 Gross
Ug Boots. "So, how's the Constable?"
  _Damn,_ Kira couldn't stop grinning, "Extatic. Apart from the medical
trouble."
  Sisko, aka 'Templer' burst out laughing, "I'm glad you two have sorted
it all out... 'Medical trouble'?"
  Kira briefed him on the five-day seige/war, and it's results. During
her story, the human's smile had dropped.
  "I'll get Dr. Bashir to have a look at him with the others. We may
have to ask Mora's help on this, too, if it's serious." He climbed up
into the base, helping Kira and her attendant children up. Together,
they batrolled the base; Sisko taking notes in his head, judging by his
introspective gaze. "*Damn*, I don't like this... the Constable's been
the one thing holding the Dominion back. We need him."
  Kira paused to re-adjust Zora, one of their adopted children, "We
need him, too." She sighed, "We thought it would show the Founders what
they were doing to themselves. And now - my dearling's hurt."
  "Never give up," councelled Sisko, "sometimes the message takes a
while to sink in."

  Shattered mirror littered the floor around her. Jhyrl whimpered in
pain; not physical pain, since little could harm a Founder, but
spiritual pain. Every time she opened her eyes, thousands of enemy faces
stared back at her. Her face.
  She'd nearly killed him, when he was Jorad, countless times. The only
thing that stopped her was that Jorad held a valuable piece of
information in his head, and they weren't going to get it by cracking it
open.
  Jhyrl had nearly killed Odo.
  Someone approached, stepping on shards of mirror, snapping the enemy's
face into more of them. Jhyrl shuddered.
  "Sister?" The Founder knelt, "Are you ill?"
  "I don't know." She stared absently at his feet.
  "You have not spoken, nor shared in any links sincce the solid--"
  "He wasn't a solid!" Her outburst made Z'hryk flinch, "He was Odo, and
I nearly *killed* him..."
  "Jhyrl?"
  "He said our enemy was behind the mirror. He meant the reflection of
us. We're our enemy." She shivered once more, "We've become what we
despised."
  Z'hryk didn't say a word, but she could feel distain radiate from him.

Had he been upright, sitting behind his desk, Bashir would have never
guessed Odo was feeling off-colour. The Changeling lay in bed, working
slowly on information on a datapadd, as he used to when the Federation
was there. Julian put on his best smile, "How are we feeling?"
  Odo glared at him, "Why *is* it all doctors assume their patients are
slightly insane?"
  Julian laughed, "We learn it as part of becoming a doctor. It's
supposed to make the patient feel at ease." He sat himself on a corner
of the bed, "To tell the truth, I used to feel like an idiot saying that
sort of thing."
  "Hah." Odo seemed immensely pleased. He handed Bashir the datapadd, "I
worked up a list of symptoms for you. It's taxing to talk."
  Bashir put it on his lap, glance-reading it between passing the
tricorder over Odo's form. "Looks like you've got traces of some
substance in your body, they've latched into weaknesses in your cellular
structure, and seem to be enhancing the damage. It's nearly like
cancer..."
  Odo sighed.
  "We'll have to take you on board the Defiant, it's one of the few
places that have the right equipment for you."
  "The only place," Odo corrected, "We sort of blew up the other one."
  "You know," said Bashir companionably, "you lot are worse at leaving
craters in the scenery than the Cardassians were."
  "Ah, but we get everyone *out*, first."

  Kira followed them into the Defiant, having hidden Ralin amongst the
babies in the co-op, and its 'crib' in a niche where few looked. She
noted that she'd begun to waddle slightly, instead of her usual march.
_Be good, little one,_ Kira thought at her occupant, _grow well and
strong._
  Bashir was 'tsk'ing at his Changeling patient. "Honestly. You've made
quite a mess of yourself, Constable." He turned to ask the Major, "What
*has* he been *doing*?"
  Kira ran over the past strains he'd been putting on himself, editing
one, Ralin.
  It was still enough to make Bashir shake his head. The doctor
calibrated a hypospray, pressing it into Odo's skin, "Some silicac-detox
should round up most of it. I'm going to have to set up a cellular
regenerator around you. Now, if I catch you getting up for *anything*,
I'm going to strap you down..."
  "I'll be good," Odo smiled, "very good."
  Bashir puttered out of listening-in range eventually, during which
Kira murmured a snippet of news to her love. "Ralin's decided to be a
girl," Kira kissed him, "She looks like both of us."
  Odo smiled at that, "She loves you, too."

  "You would have done the same," argued Jhyrl, "had you not known, as
*I* had not known."
  "You harmed another of us. That is inexcusable." Z'hryk gazed in pity
at his sister, "And now you must do what must be done."
  "Is the Link in agreement?"
  "Need you ask, sister?"
  Jhyrl nodded, changing herself as she did so. "It should not come
between us, brother."
  "I do not know you."
  The Foundress known as Jhyrl stalked away, her nude humanoid form
shivered in the unexpected cold as she gathered what solid clothing they
had collected. There were no boots. She expected none. She endured the
blows and cuts from the Jem'hadar in silence, as she'd caused far more
pain in another Changeling.
  _I am Jhyrl no longer,_ she reminded herself, _I am Pain... Kair._
  'Kair' crawled into the access tubes, and began to mutter carefully
memorised Bajoran epithets.

She couldn't find them. Kair nearly wept at that small fact, except
that she was extremely busy being 'mistaken' for a solid. She crawled
through conduits and access-tubes until her knees burned, then crawled
on, ignoring the pain. _It's no less than the pain I've caused to him._
  Pauses in the skirmishes allowed her to drop into abandoned quarters
to forage food stores, scout for what weapons were left. Kair found a
knife, and fitted its sheath into her belt. A knife was little good
against her own people and their soldiers, but its weight comforted.
_Wonderful. I'm absorbing their instincts._ She sheathed her cold feet
in some ravaged socks in the back of a storage space, and found no
boots. She stuffed what portable food she found down her threadbare top,
and exited through a second access-tube. Perhaps there would be a pack
and some more stores in another place.

  Odo made a supreme effort to smile as Sisko performed a ceremony he
could barely pronounce. The silican-detox was taking its usual toll of
burning through his body like a slow and sadistic fire. That didn't
matter. Kira Nerys was going to be his wife. They were going to be a
family.
  Ralin had carried Liya, Jen and Kol down for the ceremony, and
insisted on staying to watch her mother and father be married. Toprem
served a dual role as 'best man' and emergency medical personnel. There
was no party afterwards, at least for Odo, who had to endure the grating
whine of the cellular regenerator pulsing through his body. He talked
tactics, to stay conscious, and as a result, taught Toprem and Bashir
everything they didn't want to know.

  Instead, Kair found Odo's quarters. His plant was missing, of course.
It was the one thing he valued above everything else, and he made sure
nothing untoward happened to it. She roamed around his collection,
wondering at his choices. There was a beaker on one of the tables. An
ordinary, old beaker; alike to thousands of others in labratories around
Bajor.
  _So like him,_ Kair smiled, _a defiant gesture against his past and
all that brought him there._ She shivered, that gesture included
herself.
  Kair moved on. She needed food and shelter. She needed to find Odo if
there was ever any chance of being re-united with the Link.

  On the third day of their marriage, Odo hadn't improved. Bashir was
nearly tearing his hair out, wondering what was going wrong with the
treatment. Odo wasn't much help, spending most of his time in his
resting state in an effort to heal, the time he did communicate being
spent on instructions for his rebels.
  _At least,_ Bashir consoled himself, _he isn't worsening. Yet._

Kair collapsed of exhaustion somewhere in the ventillation shafts. At
least it was warm, the air rushing from the spill-zone having been
heated by the radioactive spill itself. She smiled, having gained a
death she earned. The air was likely to carry radiation with it, which
would make her slowly fall ill before withering away herself.
  Pain pays for pain.
  Kair slept in the rush of warm air, her pain dwindling from her
awareness as sleep overtook all. In her dream the Station shifted and
spun around her. When she woke, people stood around her sleeping form,
speaking languages she wasn't supposed to understand. Part of herself,
deep within, knew these languages, but Kair wasn't allowed to talk to
her.
  Some of the people were training weapons on her. Kair wanted one of
those weapons at her hip, instead of the knife. _Ah, yes, but the knife
can prove to them I'm humanoid._
  She drew the knife and brought her hand down on its point, letting the
blood drip down to the floor; then, because of her depression, started
the Chant of the Ancestors. "Alea. Valea Su. A Lea. Va Lea Sul..."
  An expectant Bajoran drew forward, helped Kair put away her knife. In
High Bajoran, "All are friends, here."
  Kair broke down and cried, sobbing in a rare Mountain dialect, "I am
dead... I should be *dead*."

  "Templer?"
  "Yes?" Sisko turned from the observation port. One of the rebels was
leading a dishevelled Bajoran towards him. This, he knew, was going to
lead to trouble.
  "We need to see Odo. He's the only one in this cell who understands
this woman's language. Diral thinks she might be suicidal..."
  _Wonderful._ He caught her careless gaze; those were eyes that didn't
expect to see much for long and so, saw nothing. Ben Sisko, ex-Starfleet
captain, ex-officer, took her hand and guided her down to their stolen
ship.
  The Bajoran stumbled along like a prisoner.

  "And how are you this morning?" Bashir re-calibrated his equipment.
  "Apart from the chemicals, and the irritation of that damn
regenerator, not to *mention* the fact I'm still ill - fine."
  Julian laughed, "At least you still have that sense of humour."
  Odo watched him putter about the lab, memories casting him back to the
few times he was ill under Mora's 'care'. "I have heard some humans say
that laughter is the best medicine..."
  "Does it work?"
  "Not in the slightest."
  Julian sighed, "I've tried everything that should have worked. I've
even used techniques that *looked* like they'd work in the
simulations... I'm sorry."
  Odo turned to examine the doctor's face. Julian was going to start
blaming himself for his illness if Odo wasn't careful. "None of this is
your fault, Doctor," Odo soothed, "I accepted the risks when I started
this rebellion."
  Sisko entered, escorting a disassociated Bajoran, "Constable? This
lady is need of an interpreter."
  He switched to High Bajoran, "Welcome to the company of friends."
  She responded in an extinct Mountain tongue. "I am dead..."
  Odo sighed, swapping back to Standard English, "Hello, Jhyrl," he
grated, "come back to sentence me for my crimes?"

  Sisko let her go the instant he felt her flesh shiver and soften. He'd
never seen a Founder have so much trouble shapeshifting. His hand was on
his phaser in a second; not that he supposed it would do much good.
  The Foundress, Jhyrl, looked as downcast and suicidal as had her
Bajoran form. Her voice was uncharacteristically saddened, as if by a
great loss. "There is no need. I have been outcast by my people."
  "It's been catching," Odo rumbled.
  She sighed, "Did these solids do this to you?"
  "No," Odo was watching her very carefully, even though she didn't
move, "I did this to myself... There was no way to tell that the formula
I used to change into a humanoid was hazardous."
  She moved, just a step, towards him. Sisko tensed, but Jhyrl made no
other motion before speaking again. "Why do this for the solids? Why do
you fight with them against your own people?"
  "They're not the monsters my people have become."
  Her hand twitched, she made it still, "I did this to you, in a way.
The least I could do is fix it."
  "And what else would you 'fix' while we're linked? Would you just
touch my memories? Or would you remove some of them?"
  Jhyrl said nothing.
  Sisko tried not to hold his breath, waiting for her answer.

Jhyrl finaly spoke, her voice shorn of its usual arrogance, "You have
no reason to trust me, I know. I was of the number who decided to use
our own infants as probes. I welcomed you back with lies and deception.
We forced your change, and stood in judgement as the little one died to
heal you."
  "The baby didn't die."
  "You told me as much," Jhyrl sighed, "the Great Link assumed you'd
tell the truth to these solids, since the truth is so important to you.
Or were you lying to me? If the youngest one still lives, a Link can
heal it."
  Odo emitted a grunt of amusement, "I know. I've been healing her ever
since her perceived 'death'."
  "_What_?" Bashir nearly fell over himself.
  Even Jhyrl was shocked. "You are too young to do such a thing
successfully, Odo. The damage you'd do to yourself, on top of everything
*else*..." Her form shuddered briefly before she regained control. "Just
tell me it wasn't with you when I tortured you."
  "She was safe with the Cell. I'm not stupid enough to risk myself
*and* a child. No Bajoran would."
  Jhyrl flinched. "You said once that you were Bajor... You deny us so
casually, when all we truly want is what's best."
  "Define 'best'."
  There were stirrings down the hall. Someone with a heavy tread was
approaching. Jhyrl watched Odo's eyes drift towards the doorway, "You're
right. The term 'best' is relative, is it not?"
  "Odo?" Kira Nerys called as she entered the infirmary. She was holding
a child, spreadeagled across the expanding width of her belly. "Ralin
needs you."
  "Papa," said the child, reaching a hand towards her parent.
  Kira skirted around the Founder, watching her with venomous eyes.
  Jhyrl cried out in pain, "No!" The Major and the Constable froze, "If
you let them link, it will hurt them both! I can't let more pain to
them."
  "If Ralin doesn't link - she could *die*," Kira's face tightened, "I
*won't* let a child die."
  Jhyrl regarded the tableu. "Doctor Bashir, would you please isolate
this lab with a class one forcefield?"
  Staring, shocked and frightened, he obeyed.
  "There. I have nowhere to go. Nothing to loose that I haven't lost
already. Let me heal them?"
  "Why should I trust you?" Kira demanded.
  "Because I am the only hope for the child, and the father of *your*
child, if I'm guessing correctly... Let me take their pain, *please*. I
deserve as much for letting it reach them."
  Odo was watching them, eyes tracing the lines of tension in the room.
"There'll be a price, of course," he paused to gather enough strength to
sit up. "What do you want, Jhyrl?"
  "I want my brother back." Her arms reached for them, Jhyrl forced
herself to stop them halfway, and made them fall again. "He was the
first to turn himself away from me. He pronounced my sentence, and now,
I've broken it."
  Odo took a deep breath, "Let her try," he ordered, brushing Kira's
cheek, "I don't hink she could overpower you before you could shoot her,
dearling."
  "You are my soul..." whispered Kira.
  "And you, my heart." Odo took Ralin into his lap before embracing them
both. It was a farewell.
  Jhyrl let the pain of that realisation tear through her, then she
buried it deep, far away from the part of her that was needed to heal
them. Slowly, carefully, she approached them, joined hands with them.
Odo looked at her with faint distrust. Ralin looked at her with love and
happiness - it was all the baby Changeling had ever encountered before.
  They linked.

  Kira Nerys had her phaser out before either Ralin's or Odo's eyes had
gone commpletely distant and unfocussed. There was one thing to be said
about a pregnancy; it sharpened her instincts and reflexes.
  The Foundress - Odo called her Jhyrl; was trembling, her usually calm
eyes a portrait of agony. She continued to tremble as they linked.
  Bashir was taking tricorder readings of the entire event. "Whatever
she's doing seems to be working. Ralin's cellular damage is down to a
fraction of a percent. Odo's is dropping, too."
  Ralin laughed out loud, "Tickle."
  Part of Jhyrl's face twitched a smile. She disengaged her link with
the infant shapeshifter. Kira gathered the baby up without a second
thought.
  Odo and Jhyrl remained linked for a frighteningly long time.

_You watch me with so much distrust,_ Jhyrl's mind whispered. _Why?_
  +The last time I linked with the Founders, I was sentenced.+ Odo
answered. He could feel the healing working, freeing his body from the
wounds he'd inflicted on himself.
  Jhyrl soothed away another injury, _Not all of these are done by you,
young one. Most are from the Founders. From me._
  +You're not used to being separated from your people,+ Odo probed
gently into her mind. Careful of causing damage, +why risk further exile
by helping me?+
  _You are a Changeling._
  +Is that the *only* reason?+
  A flash of shame spread through her. _I was sent to seek out and
destroy the one who leads this rebellion. I will not kill another, ever
again. Even if it is a solid._
  Odo's mind was laughing. +You've learned, Jhyrl... I have a plan for
you that may earn you your brother.+
  _Would the Link take me back?_ Anxiety surrounded her presence.
  +I can't promise anything. All I can give you is the name you want.+
  _That would lead to a death!_
  +It won't,+ Odo soothed, +because that leader is *me*.+
  Jhyrl went silent, patching wounds in a flurry of activity.

  The Changelings separated, both collapsed to the closest surface in
their humanoid forms. Kira moved to her husband in a second, checking
that he was truly well.
  "I have done," Jhyrl gasped, "all I can for him." She appeared to be
sicker than the Constable, but that didn't necessarily mean that the
Founder was *vulnerable*.
  Kira kept her phaser trained on the Founder, until it was pushed
gently aside by Odo. "What?"
  "Jhyrl has no reason to harm us, anymore. She's learned." He embraced
her, some of his substance sliding inside her uniform to caress away
Kira's aches. "Don't stress yourself, dearling, it's bad for the child."
  Kira Nerys wept for the first time in what felt like decades.

  They gave Jhyrl an armed escort back to the Dominion-occupied area of
the station. Few saw any alternatives, including the Founder herself.
She swallowed her pride, her fear and finally her convictions, and
marched towards destiny.
  The Founders assembled in the conferance room glared at her.
  "You defy our judgment?" Jha'jheh asked.
  "I come to ask," Jhyrl did her best not to falter under their
collective glares, "for an appeal."
  "You have been gone from us a long time," mentioned Z'hryk. "Have you
news of the solids?"
  "I found them, if that's what you mean." Jhyrl sighed, "I found their
leader, and their base - and his pregnant wife and a great number of
children; though it should not matter to *you*."
  "Silence," hissed Phy'nx. "You had a task. I *trust* you were able to
accomplish something?"
  "I could not kill the leader of the rebellion."
  "That is a shame," announced Ryth, "Should you ever hope to rejoin us,
we need this leader dead."
  "No. It is my pride that I was unable to slay him."
  They glared at her. Jhyrl knew them all. Phy'nx, Z'hryk, Jha'jheh,
Ryth and Jymbo.
  "Then tell us the name, outcast, and pray we let you leave without
chastisement." Jymbo pronounced.
  "Who would kill him in my stead?" Jhyrl asked, "I must know."
  "I would," volunteered Z'hryk. "since you are so inadequate."
  "Why?"
  "He is a solid, and against us. That is reason enough."
  Jhyrl closed her eyes. "The moment I tell you the name, you must fly
to kill him or stand trial with me. Do all understand?"
  "So be it." They announced, standing, and probably preparing to
shapeshift their way out of the room in a hurry.
  "He is a Changeling, yet he claims to be Bajoran. His name is Odo."
Jhyrl opened her eyes. They were all still in the room. "Are so many of
us wrong?"
  "You are tainted by him. He's filled your mind with hate against the
Great Link." Phy'nx backpedalled from their previous statements.
  "No. My eyes have been opened," Jhyrl stared them back into their
seats, "He sacrificed himself for the sake of stranger's children -
*solid* children; and did so again for a Changeling one. There was no
difference to him, there was only the matter that no *Bajoran* would
leave a child in the path of harm.
  "Can we say the same?" One by one, heads lowered. "We threw them out,
instead of nurturing them in the Link. We let others teach them, yet we
refuse to learn. Where is the taint, then?"
  "The solids will turn against us," Jha'jheh repeated to himself, "they
always do."
  "I was not harmed by them." Jhyrl corrected, "Their only reactions
were out of fear and love - for their Changeling *friend*."
  "We will consider the matter." Z'hryk spoke at last. "You may stay
where you wish, but Link with none."
  The strength drained out of her, Jhyrl knelt. "I hope the matter is
resolved soon. I shall need a healing."
  "You told us you were not harmed."
  "I was not harmed by the solids. I healed Odo of the damages he'd done
to himself... He had done much - for children."

Liya was learning to walk, and spent a great deal of her time clinging
to passing ankles or walls. She was often scooped up by fellow cell-
members, and scolded, for all the effect it had on her. Liya simply
giggled and tried to explore the rebel's base even further. Kira sighed,
nursing Zora and hugging Mren, who claimed there were Things under his
bed. By her side, Odo sat, attempting to formulate strategies between
three small children who considered his lap to be the best one in the
universe. Ralin, at least, was keeping the other three busy for the
moment.
  Kira wished she was fighting on the front lines. She longed for the
thrill of adrenolin and a phaser in her hand. Instead, she had nine and
a half children to care for. She patted her growing midriff with a wry
smile, "You're welcome among all of us, anyway, little dearling," Kira
murmured, "and I can promise you'll never be alone."
  Odo whispered a short laugh, "The way things are going, Nerys, you and
I will be fighting beside our children before the Dominion leaves."
  "Is that a promise, dearling, or a threat?"
  "I don't know. Whatever makes you happier?"
  She rolled her eyes at him. Kira smiled down at Tojel, who was
attempting to crawl onto her knee. "I'm sorry, Tojel; I'm running out of
lap. Go to Papa."
  "There's plenty of room for everyone," Odo grinned, "I can always
shapeshift another arm, or leg, or..."
  "Dearling," Kira sang, peering over her shoulder at him, "We all love
you."

  Ralin looked around her. Brothers and sisters were safe, and Liya-
sister had wandered a little too far. Going too far alone could be
dangerous, and Mama and Papa wanted everyone safe. Waving bye-bye to
Aya-sister and Thyr-brother, Ralin toddled after Liya-sister.
  Finding Liya was going to be hard, since legs were everywhere,and it
was bad to trip up Mama's-people.

  Jhyrl shuddered within herself. Alone. She had been weighed in the
balance and found wanting. Carefully, before they could come to Link
with her for a final time, Jhyrl worked to protect one memory, to edit
it from her consciousness. All her other mental shields, often used to
protect the self from unbidden homogeny in the Link, went to seal that
memory from probing minds.
  When they came to heal and judge her, they found Jhyrl strangely
compliant, and nothing was kept from them in their Link. The sentance
was simple, she was one of the Low, left in temporary exile until she
either went mad or the Link forgave her. Her right to a name was also
taken, and without the right to say who she was to another, she could
not ask to Link. She could not give orders from underlings, nor
challenge orders from another Founder.
  She was the Low One, yet slightly higher in rank than a tame Solid.
  Left alone for the first time in her life, the Low One began to pray
that the Founders wouldn't harm anyone.

  It was surprisingly easy to mingle with the solids. All Z'hryk had to
do was look Bajoran and pretend to be on an errand. There were large
numbers of Bajorans on errands in the maze that was the rebellion's
headquarters. All he needed was one of the large number of infants that
the outcast had taken as his own. His Bajoran bed-mate wouldn't let the
child come to harm, even if he chose to. Either way, they would have a
power over them, a method of control.

  Liya had run out of wall, and wobbled across a relatively open space,
avoiding grown-up legs by pure luck. She laughed at the change to
*really* explore all the places Papa went.
  And then she was caught, scooped up by grown-up hands with a stern
expression.

  Z'hryk smiled to himself. He had *found* one of them. He approached,
and scooped up the child as if the action were normal. It wriggled in
his grasp.

"You're a very naughty little one, eh?" Toprem couldn't help smiling
at the tiny girl in his arms.
  Liya giggled back at him. It was always fun; exploring or being taken
home to Mama and Papa, it didn't matter. The stern faces of the rebels
that hid fractions of smiles were the next best things to the hugs she
got when home once more.

  Z'hryk bore a very similar, yet very different burden under one arm as
he crawled laboriously back to the outpost. Of all his luck to find the
sickly one, just roaming about the rebel base.
  "Where going?" No doubt the solid would become afraid if answers
weren't forthcoming, and then wail about it.
  "We're going somewhere safe," Z'hryk lied, "I have information that
someone's going to steal one of you or your siblings. So your Papa made
me put you somewhere safe. Each one of your brothers and sisters are
going to stay somewhere else that's safe, too." _Two whole truths. I
must be slipping._ "Now you *must* be quiet. We don't want bad people
finding us."
  The infant nodded, dropping its voice to what it thought was a whisper
when it spoke. "Why afraid?"
  _You're a solid. You make my skin want to crawl._ "You're in a very
great danger, child. Be *quiet*."
  Tiny hands grasped at him, it took Z'hryk a moment to realise that the
solid was attempting to *hug* him. One little hand gave off grasping to
pet his ribs. This would get annoying, fast.
  Fortunately for Z'hryk's waning patience, he reached the access hatch
and emerged to the Promenade. The solid went back to clinging as he
stood and strode to the security office where he had a pre-prepared a
holding area for the thing. Not even its 'Papa' could get in, since
every crack in the bulkhead was sealed with a forcefield. He placed the
child in there, sealing the forcefield after him. Panting with
suppressed fear, Z'hryk let himself relax into a more everyday shape.
  The child took this in with unnerving calm, "You Papa-people," it
announced, "no Mama-people."
  "Enjoy your stay," Z'hryk sarcasmed, "I'll give your 'Papa' a few
hours to realise you're gone. Then we'll see."
  "Fraidy-man," the child said, "Why afraid?"
  "Idiot solid." Z'hryk growled to himself and left it there. He had
more important tasks to accomplish.

  Ralin toddled across the room the Fraidy-man had put her in. It was
about half the size of the family room at home, and had only one bed-
thing and a tiny alcove that Mama's people used to eliminate body
wastes. There was a big door, surrounded by light. Ralin, having
exhausted the possibilities of the little room, went to find to Fraidy-
man and help him get happy.
  The air in the big door stung! Ralin sat, out of sheer confusion. Air
didn't sting, at least, not at home. This wasn't right, and she began to
feel fear. It wasn't nice. "Mama? Papa?" Nothing, not even the sensation
of their presence. Papa had told Ralin, through their links, about bad
feelings like anger and fear and hatred; now she knew how Papa must have
found them. "Papa?!" She shivered within herself, finding out what it
was to be alone. Her voice warbled with stress as she called for Papa
again and again.

  Eight children and a pregnant wife couldn't console him. Odo continued
to emit anguished noises in the middle of his cluster of family. The
little ones tried to hug him, or pet his back, as he had done for them
when nightmares plagued them.
  Liya offered him her doll, perhaps thinking it might make her Papa
better.
  Nerys sat by him, rocking him slowly as tears crept across her face.
"We'll find her, beloved," she managed, voice cracking under the strain,
"and we'll find the bastard who took her and --" her throat stopped
altogether.
  Odo continued rocking, "I failed..." he managed between great sighs of
sorrow, "...i failed her."
  Liya's lower lip trembled, her eyes brimming, "I promise I stay,
Papa," she sobbed, joining the huddle of children trying to soothe him,
"I promise I stay..."
  Someone intruded with a ransom message addressed to him. Odo listened
with half an ear, and felt the inexorable hand of the Dominion reaching
out to crush him. Someone was going to pay, and pay dear.

"Pah-paaaaaaaa?!"
  Z'hryk sighed, sifting through the remnants of Odo's security desk for
whatever cloues he could uncover. Two isolinear rods had been recovered
whole, and lay on the floor, waiting analysis. Inwardly, he growled at
the Solid's whimpering. Any minute now, the hideous little creature
would either (a) soil itself (b) cry or (c) both. Z'hryk had no patience
for it, or its bleating for its parent.
  "The child is lonely, brother," whispered the Low One as she set to
the more menial task of tracing broken power couplings.
  "You are to call me by title, only, Low One," Z'hryk reminded, "I have
no sister, here."
  "Yes, Honoured," the Low One bowed her head, "Forgive me, please,
Honoured."
  "Now you must go and soothe the creature. Entertain it, whatever. Just
keep it quiet."
  "Yes, Honoured."

  Jhyrl knelt to regard the stolen infant. This was the one she had
tried to protect, by changing her own memories about her. "I'm sorry,
child," Jhyrl whispered.
  "Papa?"
  "I suspect he will come for you. There will be retribution," she
writhed in her private hell of causing pain and death to others; all
others.
  "No sad," Ralin managed, "Sad bad. Happy nice."
  "My name, before they took it from me, was Jhyrl." She sat to talk
eye-to-eye with the infant, "I was never alone before I helped your
father."
  "Lonely bad," said Ralin, "Door hurts, no hugs."
  "You would comfort *me*? The one who led to your capture?"
  Ralin nodded with a little smile.
  Jhyrl was forced to turn her eyes from so much innocence. "My own
people would outcast me forever should I soothe an enemy..." _Perhaps my
brother had arranged just that. To catch me hugging a 'solid', so they
can cast me out of the Link, and stop my 'influence' corrupting them._
  "Ralin sleepy," complained the baby, "no safe..."
  "There is a blanket on the bunk," advised Jhyrl, "you can use it to
protect yourself."
  Ralin seemed depressed at this news. "No Mama, no Papa..."
  "I'm sorry. Perhaps he'll come soon."

  Z'hryk had trouble on his hands, in the form of one *very* angry
parent. So far, he'd been able to keep space between Odo and himself.
  "Give me the child," Odo menaced.

Z'hryk stepped back from the aura of impending violence that
surrounded the Constable. "Give *me* you word to halt this rebellion,
Odo," Z'hryk edged further away, accidentally shattering one of the few
remaining isolinear rods in the office, "All we want is peace."
  "All *you* want is control," growled Odo, "and if you can't control us
alive, you'll engineer our *deaths*."
  "We wouldn't kill *you*, Odo."
  "Ah, but you would destroy everything I care for, just so I could join
with you, just so you can have *perfection* within the Link." Odo
nodded, "Would you harm her, if I refused to obey?"
  "You said yourself that no *Bajoran* will leave a child in the path of
harm. While she is with us, she is reasonably safe; if you continue
these strikes against us, your little girl could be hurt."
  "Would you see to that *personally*, Founder?"
  "*If* I must, then I must. It would reflect apon you, and your
suitability to be 'Bajoran', would it not?"
  Odo looked at him with immense pity, "Then I'm very sorry for you."
  "Why would you have reason to pity me?"
  He looked confused for a moment, "You're the first Changeling to
*want* to harm another. At least in my case, it was a pure accident."
  "You lie. The Low One showed us the sickly child was a Solid."
  "If you mean *Jhyrl*, then that's a surprise; and a pity. By trying to
protect Ralin from you, she ended up harming her..." Odo shook his head,
"Where *is* Ralin?"
  "In the cells. I will test your lies there." Z'hryk marched to the
cell, where the Low One knelt and keened soft, sad sounds. He ignored
her.
  "Ralin?" Called Odo, gazing at the bundled-up blanket on the floor.
  "She rests," murmured the Low One.

  Ralin stirred, half-tired and wishing she were less so. Papa was near!
  "Would you do, Founder, if you *had* discovered Ralin is a
Changeling?" Papa asked.
  "We would welcome her into the Great Link," said the Fraidy-man.
  "You'd teach her to hate any being that was a Solid," growled Papa,
"We've told Ralin what hatred *is*, but we never taught her *how* to
hate," his voice dropped to a pleading murmur, "We both pray she never
learns that lesson."
  Her body was finally unsleepy enough to move; she stretched and made
her wake-body, then emerged from the blanket. "Papa!" Her little arms
reached for him as she toddled toward the sting-door.
  "Did they hurt you, dearling?"
  Ralin shook her head, "Fraidy-lady lonely, needs hugs."
  Papa knelt, nearly touching the sting-door like he wanted to touch
her, "It's 'Founder', dearling; and if I try to hug the lady, the
Founders might make things bad for her."
  "Fraidy-man *mean*," Ralin announced, "he naughty and stole me."
  Papa nodded, "The *Founder* took you to hurt us," he explained, "and
he thinks you're a solid, too."
  "Silly-man," stated Ralin, "Mama-people not Papa-people. Ralin Papa-
people," to demonstrate her point, she twirled into a spiral for the
Fraidy-man.
  The Fraidy-man pressed the button that turned off the sting-door
*real* fast, and Papa picked her up in a hug before she could untwirl
herself properly.
  Fraidy-man glared at Papa. "How many more Changelings will you risk
with these idiotic *stunts*?!"
  Papa looked sad, "How many have died out there, alone, never knowing
who or what they were? Admit it, Founder. You considered us expendable a
long time ago," he held her close, keeping her away from the Fraidy-man,
"You and your kind are far worse than you think I am."

  Z'hryk had frozen on the spot. He knew, but ignored the fact, that a
small instinct had called him to the child. He'd told himself that a
sickly child would bring more pressure to bear on Odo. Now he felt as
low as -- his sister.
  "Tell me, Jhyrl," he murmured, breaking their laws by speaking her
name, "did he do this to you, too?"
  "When your eyes open, the light hurts," she answered, "but the
darkness that happens when they close again, terrifies."
  "I have a feeling, sister, that the numbers of the Low are going to
increase, sometime in the very near future."
  Jhyrl nodded, accepting this. "Then we shall call ourselves the High,
and do what we can to slow or halt the others, who are blind."

Odo had fallen into a sort of half-trance as he supported his wife's
torso from behind, his hands literally spreading across the bulk of her
distended waist. Her own hands were immersed in his matter, gently
soothing the child still within her.
  Somewhere in the extreme edges of his concern, he knew, an attendant
stood reporting each contraction with a peal from a clear-toned gong.
Beside the attendant, three Changelings stood, immobile sentinels.
Jhyrl, Phy'nx and a new, 'impartial' observer - who spoke little and
glared a lot; known as Fyrh, barely moved. They may as well have been
ceremonial statues.
  "Is it coming *yet*?!" Demanded Aya, "Give it a push, Papa! Now!"
  "Patience," soothed Dax, holding the squirming child still.
  He could feel the young one wriggle underneath Nerys' skin, almost
eager to struggle into the world. "Soon, beloved."
  Nerys' muscles tightened, she gave an involuntary grunt, and their
baby began its first serious move. Odo helped as much as he could from
this angle, which was surprisingly little.
  "Here we go," murmured Bashir, crouching to receive the child.
  Nerys sighed with satisfaction as the infant was raised up for them to
see, "*Much* easier than the last time," she grinned.
  "Welcome, son," murmured Odo from over Nerys' shoulder, his hands re-
forming so he could brush his childs face, "Your name is Kira-Odo
Dayal." Odd, he could feel the babys presence, as he felt the presence
of every Changeling he'd encountered - excepting the time-period of his
pennance; and he felt his substance yearning to link.
  Dayal looked up at his parents, and merged his tiny hand with his
fathers finger.
  Only the Changeling and his bride were not surprised by this move.
  Odo gently broke their link after Dayals little greeting, with a self-
satisfied smirk. 'Dayal' was an old word for 'between' and was often
taken to mean 'ambassador' in more ancient texts. "We named you well,
son."

  Fyrh nearly threw a fit. Everything they knew, everything they thought
they had learned, told her that this should be impossible. No solid
could link with a Changeling to this extent.
  Yet this pair had, and had produced another alleged impossibility.
  A halfbreed.
  Therefore, technically speaking, these solids were officially
Changelings, albeit so far removed it was nearly clinical. Both traits
bred true. Fyrh felt a chill pass through her, even as Jhyrl's face
broke into a grin.
  "I warned the Link, did I not, that this was a possibility?" Asked
Jhyrl.
  "Your warnings usually shape themselves as riddles with only vague
meaning in retrospect," chided Phy'nx.
  "It seems we *must* make peace," snarled Fyrh, "or at least, cease our
efforts in the area."
  The young Changeling known as Ralin smiled at them, "Don't be afraid,"
she soothed, "we *are* friendly."
  "That remains to be judged," announced Fyrh, unaware that her words
began the uneasy truce between the peoples assembled in that very room.

The End.

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