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@vortaheretic
Being brave isn’t glorifying. Being brave is messy. Being brave is walking forward when you thought you couldn’t even stand. Being brave is doing the right thing no matter the consequences. Being brave is being selfless.
Did you know that doing the right thing can feel like doing the wrong thing? ( c.d. )
A Chance Encounter
Services were over at the temple on the Promenade. Among the many Bajorans emerging from its doors was a single Vorta, head down as she tried to make her way through the crowd without getting in anyone’s way. A few gave her curious or even hostile glances, but most ignored her. Varris had been attending the temple for a while now, and most people were used to her presence. There were some among the Bajorans who objected to her on principle, but the vedek on DS9 had been very kind to her, as had the senior staff who’d allowed her to stay on the grounds of political asylum. She had a place to pray and worship the Prophets, and that was enough.
As she hurried down the promenade, headed for the replimat, she found herself colliding directly with another person, managing to send them both crashing to the floor. She sat up quickly, mortified. “I am so sorry,” she said, extending a hand. “Are you okay?”
@stargazer-stargazing
Zap had been on his way to the replimat himself, hoping to beat the post-service rush. He still didn’t understand religion, but he understood he had to hurry if he wanted to get to those recipes that had recently added within the next hour!
Then, suddenly, someone crashed into him and he fell hard. He shook the stars out of his vision and looked at the woman who’d sent him sprawling. Oh! A Vorta! Interesting… “I’m alright! Nothing too serious!” He took the offered hand, smiling politely. “What has you in such a rush, miss?”
Varris smiled, mostly out of relief at the lack of a hostile reaction. There were a lot of people on the station who distrusted a Vorta on sight, and crashing into this man the way she had, she’d been prepared for the worst. “Oh, just on my way to the replimat so I’ll have time for a meal before my shift,” she said, smiling. “Services at the temple went a little long today.” She straightened up, helping the man to his feet. “My name is Varris, by the way. Sorry again about that. I suppose I should really do a better job of looking where I’m going.” She laughed, still flushed a little purple with embarrassment. She’d been so focused on not getting in anyone’s way that she’d… knocked someone over instead.
He just smiled and shook his head. “No, no! I understand that Vorta have poor eyesight, so it’s really not like you could rush around and not bump into something!” He couldn’t imagine a life without his own keen eyesight. “You attend the services at the temple? I thought Vorta had a different religion…” He got up and brushed himself off. “Would you care to join me for lunch as we talk? I’m Ambassador Stargazer, but please call me Zap!”
“Most Vorta do, but I… well, you could say I converted. It’s a long story.” She didn’t often share it, though not because it distressed her - her encounter with the Prophets was one of her most precious memories. Still, it was a rather complicated situation. She was well aware that most Vorta viewed the Bajoran faith as a set of primitive superstitions.
“My name is Varris,” she told him. “I’d be happy to join you, Zap.” Varris was generally content with her life on the station, but friendly interactions like this were rare enough that she knew better than to pass them up. Vorta were a social species, and Varris was no exception, even though she’d been designed for administrative work rather than diplomacy.
Zap smiled as they went to get their respective meals. He ordered a fruit and seared meat bowl with some happa root juice, setting it down across the table from Varris’ own plate.
“I must say, you’re quite fascinating! My people don’t have a religion, really…We worship the land and its gifts! Aurora is our guardian and our ward…We care for it and it rewards our love!” He picked up a hot piece of meat with his fingers and popped it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he continued. “Some people think it’s weird that we think like this, but I think it’s weird that they think it’s weird! What made you decide to convert, if I may ask?”
“I don’t think it’s weird at all,” Varris said earnestly. “Your planet provides for you, just as the Prophets care for the Bajorans.” She laid out her meal, made up of small samples of food from different sections of the replicator menu - Klingon, Bajoran, human… while she had not yet approached the engineering team to ask about getting some Vorta food items on the menu, she could at least enjoy sampling food from the different cultures represented on the station, even if she couldn’t taste it.
She took a bite of the Klingon dish as he asked his question, mostly to give herself time to think about it. “I didn’t come to the Alpha Quadrant until the war was already underway,” she said, finally. “They needed more Vorta commanders, and I got a promotion. Only… something went wrong on the way here. There was a malfunction on the ship, and it would have been destroyed if the Prophets hadn’t saved us in the wormhole.”
Varris was smiling a little wistfully as she recounted the story. “They… were like nothing I’d ever seen before. They spoke to me, and… they were kind. They could tell I was frightened, and I think they were trying to reassure me, in their own way.” She shook her head. “I still don’t know why they chose to save me. But.. when I woke up safely in the Alpha Quadrant, my ship still intact… that was when I decided to leave. The Prophets were more divine than the Founders could ever hope to be, and I wanted to learn everything I could about them. To repay them in some small way for saving my life.”
“That’s wonderful! I’m glad you were able to find faith for yourself!” He took a gulp of his juice. “Maybe I can come to a service, just to gain some sort of understanding! I doubt I’ll be converted, but I like to learn!”
He tilted his head. “I don’t think devotion is real unless it’s earned…The prophets certainly seem to have earned your devotion! Nature has earned mine! Loyalty without choice isn’t devotion…Devotion without a reason isn’t real.”
Varris nodded slowly, her face serious. “I think so as well. And I’m… fortunate, I suppose, though I didn’t always think so. I’m defective.” She said it as a simple statement of fact, no trace of either pride or self-condemnation in her voice. “I remember what it was like, revering the Founders… and I still wanted to, when I was activated as Varris 4. But it was difficult to reconcile how I’d felt about them with their actions. It’s… hard to explain.”
She shrugged. “In the end, though… that’s what allowed me to choose the Prophets over them. I’m grateful for that, no matter how painful it was in the past. Who knows? Perhaps they were watching over me long before I knew of their existence.”
“Perhaps!” He took bite of his food. “Not to change the subject, but I’m curious what you do for a living! It must be…Interesting…Finding a job in the Federation. The Bajorans have learned to be a bit untrusting, not that I blame them one bit! They’re fairly welcoming, all things considered!”
He may like the company of Cardassians, but he didn’t for one second devalue Bajor’s struggles. If the Cardassian union decided to try and recapture Bajor, he would be on Bajor’s side and made sure to vocalize his opinion on the matter whenever it was brought up. No living being belonged to anyone. Even his pet and his plants weren’t truly his. He was just their caretaker and they were his friends.
Varris nodded. “Yes, there are people who have been very kind to me here. If the Bajoran government and station staff hadn’t allowed me to stay, I… don’t know what would have happened to me. Right now, I just… well, I take what work I can find. There’s always something that needs to be done in a place like this! And I don’t mind being one of the people who keeps the station running.”
Her smile turned wistful, however, as she took another bite. “I do hope, though, that I can go to Bajor someday. It… hasn’t been easy to get cleared for that. I would pursue membership in a religious order planetside, but I don’t think that will ever happen… I don’t think the Kai approves of my presence even here on the station.” Varris had never met the woman but knew she was one of the more conservative influences on Bajor, and was not especially welcoming to a non-Bajoran worshiper, let alone one from the Dominion. She’d never be permitted to join a monastery on Bajor.
“Well with your enthusiasm I can’t understand why they wouldn’t want such a devoted person! I’m sure you’ll find a way…” He smiled and took another bite of his meal. The replicator made weird natafruit, but it was alright. “At least you’re keeping busy! I wish I could get a normal job around here…Maybe when another diplomat turns up, hm? Then I could…Oh I don’t know! Work in Garak’s shop perhaps? He always gets things in a little late! I wouldn’t mind being his errand boy!” Zap wouldn’t even require a paycheck, just an excuse to stay. He liked it here.
“All I can do is try to follow the Prophets as best as I can, whether it’s here or anywhere else,” Varris mused. “If I can make this station a better place, even if only in small ways, it’s a good enough reason for me to be here.” Learning about the Prophets had been far more fulfilling than her service to the Founders, and even if she never made it to Bajor she couldn’t help but be grateful for what she already had.
“What’s it like, being a diplomat?” Varris said curiously. “I was never trained as a diplomat, myself. I was an administrator back in the Dominion, I rarely ever left Dominion space. Most of what I know about the Alpha Quadrant, I’ve learned since I arrived. I… hope it’s not rude to say I’m not familiar with your species,” she added. She was curious about where the small alien came from, but didn’t want to pry.
Zap leaned in close as if he was about to reveal some dark, intense secret. “I hate it! You have to pretend people aren’t being huge jerks!” A grin spread across his face and he sat back in his seat. “It’s really not what I wanted to do with my life, but my people need me! As for you not knowing where I’m from, it’s not surprising! My people just recently began making ourselves known! I’m Auroran! From Aurora Blue specifically…It’s a little planet about 3 months away from here.” The distance made him a little homesick, but there wasn’t much he could do…
Varris let out an undignified snort of laughter. “I can see how that would get tiresome. The Vorta diplomats I’ve met were always excellent at... ah... tact.” Or lying through their teeth, more often, though she didn’t really begrudge them the habit. Most Vorta were decent liars if they needed to be.
“I admit, I like the idea of traveling and meeting other species and cultures, but...” She shook her head. “I’m better with numbers and logistics than with people. I suppose I was designed that way. It must be a lot of pressure, representing your people to others.” She’d often been under pressure as an administrator, too, but that at least was something she felt she could handle. At least until the secret of her defect came out.
The Heretic and the Smuggler
vortaheretic:
Several hours later, Varris had changed out of her work uniform and was heading to the replimat, more than ready for a bite to eat after her busy shift. It wasn’t difficult to find Keevan - who was, naturally, the only other Vorta there.
She chose a Cardassian meal today, with the somewhat unconventional accompaniment of a glass of snail juice - it had recently become a favorite of hers thanks to the unique texture, though she was aware most non-Ferengi did not share her opinion. Varris gave Keevan a slightly nervous smile as she sat down across from him - even if he was probably another defect, she had no idea what to expect.
“It’s good to see you again, Captain Keevan,” she said, falling back on slightly increased formality to smooth over her own awkwardness. “I hope your morning has been more pleasant than mine.” Varris was a hard worker, and didn’t mind covering for her coworkers who’d been struck with the flu, but it was tiring.
Keevan sat at the table with a lunch of his own as he waited for Varris. A plate of hot wings with mashed potatoes and a milkshake on the side; he tended to favor spicy foods, which could sometimes be intense enough for him to taste. He looked up and smiled as Varris sat across from him, setting one of the half-stripped wings down as he greeted her.
“It’s nice to see you again too, Varris. Please, just call me Keevan. I’m only Captain when I’m behind a viewscreen.” He chuckled and leaned forward in his seat, quite eager to get to know this Vorta more. This was like a true clean slate for him, one of his own kind that had never met his predecessors.
He helped himself to more of his wings before he spoke again, carefully wiping his fingers off on a napkin. “The morning has been fairly eventful for me as well. I had breakfast at Quark’s with a friend of mine, and spent the rest of the morning wandering the Promenade. All the while, you were hard at work, yes?”
“Yes, it’s been quite hectic,” Varris said with a sigh. “Most of my coworkers are Bajoran, of course, and there’s been a flu going around the Bajoran residents of the station. That’s why I delivered your manifest this morning, actually. Usually I’m only unloading cargo, but I was doing a favor for a friend who was short-staffed.”
She took a drink, now looking contemplatively at her plate. “As I said before, it was a bit of a surprise to find the captain was another Vorta. To be honest, I never really expected to meet another Vorta after I came to the station. Not unless it was under... less than ideal circumstances.” More and more certain that Keevan was as defective as she was, she was sure he would understand her meaning.Â
vortaheretic
Varris felt a jolt of surprise at the sight of another Vorta waiting for her as she left work. The initial fear quickly subsided, however, as she belatedly recognized him. It was the man she’d found injured on the Promenade, looking considerably healthier after his stay in the infirmary. She’d intended to drop by after her shift to find out how he was doing, but it looked as if that wouldn’t be necessary.
“Oh! That’s… yes, that’s me. Varris Four.” She tried to hide her surprise as he introduced himself. Weyoun - she knew that name, though she’d never met the man personally. He’d been one of the most high-ranking Vorta personnel in the Dominion before she’d left, though this couldn’t be the same Weyoun. She tried to remember who it had been back then - Five, or maybe Six? - before shaking the thought from her mind. It probably didn’t matter.
Still, it was enough to make her nervous - the Dominion wasn’t at war with the Alpha Quadrant anymore, and she had no way of knowing what Weyoun’s position was these days, but she couldn’t exactly hide the fact that she was no loyalist. Her work uniform and the Bajoran earring hanging from her right ear made that plain enough.
“I’m glad to see you on your feet again,” she said, trying to smile. “I’m sorry there wasn’t more I could do - I’m not exactly a trained medic…” All the same, he found herself saying a silent prayer of thanks to the Prophets for watching over him. Now that he was conscious, it felt a little too personal to mention out loud unless he asked, but she was grateful all the same.
Nine’s eyes caught on the Bajoran chain earring sparkling on her ear and took note of her reserved demeanor. He knew the significance of that dangling chain. Was this part of some sort of uniform, or was Varris truly a member of the Bajoran faithful? The thought of that was almost too much to fathom! The worship of their Founders was deeply seeded in their very genetic code and their psychological conditioning; though Vorta have been known to disobey (himself, twice over) and to forsake them, no Vorta he’s ever heard of has ever taken up new gods in their stead. It was amazing. Perhaps this questions the merit of the Founder’s claim to divinity? If the Founders were right, this kind of thing shouldn’t even be possible. Then again, what Nine was doing shouldn’t have even been possible, either…but here they were. Nine took care not to be unduly interested in the earring so as to not upset her–it would simply scare her. She probably thought he was still an agent of the Dominion, a perfectly reasonable assumption, to be honest.
“I just had to thank you in person. You seemed so scared, but you helped me anyway, even though Rotan was still fighting with my attacker. Nobody else did, I can remember that. You tried your best, it takes bravery to do that. What you said, what you did…I may not remember most of it word for word, but it was important to me. So I had to thank you, before I lost my chance. You saw what happened earlier, you know how that goes.”
Nine flashed her his winning smile, folding his hands behind his back as he fell into a more casual stance.
“I’m simply surprised that we haven’t crossed paths here before. You seem to have established a life here, found faith…it’s nice to see that there’s hope for us to move on, to have normal lives, in spite of everything. The Vorta here, myself included…sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that such things are possible, no matter where we started out. That there is a life waiting for us outside the tyranny of the Dominion. It’s…heartening to see.”
His words briefly struck her speechless. Outside the tyranny of the Dominion. So he was like her - not merely a visitor, but living on the station itself, trying as she had to find a life outside the rule of the Founders. It didn’t seem possible. Realizing she was gaping at him, she tried to collect herself.
“I never expected to meet another Vorta who thinks like that,” Varris admitted. “The path I’ve chosen would be called blasphemy by most, I think. And I wouldn’t blame them for saying it.” She remembered what it was like in previous lifetimes, before whatever quirk in the cloning process had severed her devotion to the Founders as Varris 4. That version of herself would have hated what she’d now become.
From everything she’d heard of him, she would have expected Weyoun - any Weyoun - to react the same way. Interesting.
“In any case, you don’t have to thank me,” she said, looking away and lacing her fingers together nervously in front of her. “I believe... well, it’s only by the grace of the Prophets that I made it here at all. So I won’t turn my back on someone who needs help. I think... that’s what they would want of me.”
A Chance Encounter
Services were over at the temple on the Promenade. Among the many Bajorans emerging from its doors was a single Vorta, head down as she tried to make her way through the crowd without getting in anyone’s way. A few gave her curious or even hostile glances, but most ignored her. Varris had been attending the temple for a while now, and most people were used to her presence. There were some among the Bajorans who objected to her on principle, but the vedek on DS9 had been very kind to her, as had the senior staff who’d allowed her to stay on the grounds of political asylum. She had a place to pray and worship the Prophets, and that was enough.
As she hurried down the promenade, headed for the replimat, she found herself colliding directly with another person, managing to send them both crashing to the floor. She sat up quickly, mortified. “I am so sorry,” she said, extending a hand. “Are you okay?”
@stargazer-stargazing
Zap had been on his way to the replimat himself, hoping to beat the post-service rush. He still didn’t understand religion, but he understood he had to hurry if he wanted to get to those recipes that had recently added within the next hour!
Then, suddenly, someone crashed into him and he fell hard. He shook the stars out of his vision and looked at the woman who’d sent him sprawling. Oh! A Vorta! Interesting… “I’m alright! Nothing too serious!” He took the offered hand, smiling politely. “What has you in such a rush, miss?”
Varris smiled, mostly out of relief at the lack of a hostile reaction. There were a lot of people on the station who distrusted a Vorta on sight, and crashing into this man the way she had, she’d been prepared for the worst. “Oh, just on my way to the replimat so I’ll have time for a meal before my shift,” she said, smiling. “Services at the temple went a little long today.” She straightened up, helping the man to his feet. “My name is Varris, by the way. Sorry again about that. I suppose I should really do a better job of looking where I’m going.” She laughed, still flushed a little purple with embarrassment. She’d been so focused on not getting in anyone’s way that she’d… knocked someone over instead.
He just smiled and shook his head. “No, no! I understand that Vorta have poor eyesight, so it’s really not like you could rush around and not bump into something!” He couldn’t imagine a life without his own keen eyesight. “You attend the services at the temple? I thought Vorta had a different religion…” He got up and brushed himself off. “Would you care to join me for lunch as we talk? I’m Ambassador Stargazer, but please call me Zap!”
“Most Vorta do, but I… well, you could say I converted. It’s a long story.” She didn’t often share it, though not because it distressed her - her encounter with the Prophets was one of her most precious memories. Still, it was a rather complicated situation. She was well aware that most Vorta viewed the Bajoran faith as a set of primitive superstitions.
“My name is Varris,” she told him. “I’d be happy to join you, Zap.” Varris was generally content with her life on the station, but friendly interactions like this were rare enough that she knew better than to pass them up. Vorta were a social species, and Varris was no exception, even though she’d been designed for administrative work rather than diplomacy.
Zap smiled as they went to get their respective meals. He ordered a fruit and seared meat bowl with some happa root juice, setting it down across the table from Varris’ own plate.
“I must say, you’re quite fascinating! My people don’t have a religion, really…We worship the land and its gifts! Aurora is our guardian and our ward…We care for it and it rewards our love!” He picked up a hot piece of meat with his fingers and popped it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he continued. “Some people think it’s weird that we think like this, but I think it’s weird that they think it’s weird! What made you decide to convert, if I may ask?”
“I don’t think it’s weird at all,” Varris said earnestly. “Your planet provides for you, just as the Prophets care for the Bajorans.” She laid out her meal, made up of small samples of food from different sections of the replicator menu - Klingon, Bajoran, human… while she had not yet approached the engineering team to ask about getting some Vorta food items on the menu, she could at least enjoy sampling food from the different cultures represented on the station, even if she couldn’t taste it.
She took a bite of the Klingon dish as he asked his question, mostly to give herself time to think about it. “I didn’t come to the Alpha Quadrant until the war was already underway,” she said, finally. “They needed more Vorta commanders, and I got a promotion. Only… something went wrong on the way here. There was a malfunction on the ship, and it would have been destroyed if the Prophets hadn’t saved us in the wormhole.”
Varris was smiling a little wistfully as she recounted the story. “They… were like nothing I’d ever seen before. They spoke to me, and… they were kind. They could tell I was frightened, and I think they were trying to reassure me, in their own way.” She shook her head. “I still don’t know why they chose to save me. But.. when I woke up safely in the Alpha Quadrant, my ship still intact… that was when I decided to leave. The Prophets were more divine than the Founders could ever hope to be, and I wanted to learn everything I could about them. To repay them in some small way for saving my life.”
“That’s wonderful! I’m glad you were able to find faith for yourself!” He took a gulp of his juice. “Maybe I can come to a service, just to gain some sort of understanding! I doubt I’ll be converted, but I like to learn!”
He tilted his head. “I don’t think devotion is real unless it’s earned…The prophets certainly seem to have earned your devotion! Nature has earned mine! Loyalty without choice isn’t devotion…Devotion without a reason isn’t real.”
Varris nodded slowly, her face serious. “I think so as well. And I’m… fortunate, I suppose, though I didn’t always think so. I’m defective.” She said it as a simple statement of fact, no trace of either pride or self-condemnation in her voice. “I remember what it was like, revering the Founders… and I still wanted to, when I was activated as Varris 4. But it was difficult to reconcile how I’d felt about them with their actions. It’s… hard to explain.”
She shrugged. “In the end, though… that’s what allowed me to choose the Prophets over them. I’m grateful for that, no matter how painful it was in the past. Who knows? Perhaps they were watching over me long before I knew of their existence.”
“Perhaps!” He took bite of his food. “Not to change the subject, but I’m curious what you do for a living! It must be…Interesting…Finding a job in the Federation. The Bajorans have learned to be a bit untrusting, not that I blame them one bit! They’re fairly welcoming, all things considered!”
He may like the company of Cardassians, but he didn’t for one second devalue Bajor’s struggles. If the Cardassian union decided to try and recapture Bajor, he would be on Bajor’s side and made sure to vocalize his opinion on the matter whenever it was brought up. No living being belonged to anyone. Even his pet and his plants weren’t truly his. He was just their caretaker and they were his friends.
Varris nodded. “Yes, there are people who have been very kind to me here. If the Bajoran government and station staff hadn’t allowed me to stay, I… don’t know what would have happened to me. Right now, I just… well, I take what work I can find. There’s always something that needs to be done in a place like this! And I don’t mind being one of the people who keeps the station running.”
Her smile turned wistful, however, as she took another bite. “I do hope, though, that I can go to Bajor someday. It… hasn’t been easy to get cleared for that. I would pursue membership in a religious order planetside, but I don’t think that will ever happen… I don’t think the Kai approves of my presence even here on the station.” Varris had never met the woman but knew she was one of the more conservative influences on Bajor, and was not especially welcoming to a non-Bajoran worshiper, let alone one from the Dominion. She’d never be permitted to join a monastery on Bajor.
“Well with your enthusiasm I can’t understand why they wouldn’t want such a devoted person! I’m sure you’ll find a way…” He smiled and took another bite of his meal. The replicator made weird natafruit, but it was alright. “At least you’re keeping busy! I wish I could get a normal job around here…Maybe when another diplomat turns up, hm? Then I could…Oh I don’t know! Work in Garak’s shop perhaps? He always gets things in a little late! I wouldn’t mind being his errand boy!” Zap wouldn’t even require a paycheck, just an excuse to stay. He liked it here.
“All I can do is try to follow the Prophets as best as I can, whether it’s here or anywhere else,” Varris mused. “If I can make this station a better place, even if only in small ways, it’s a good enough reason for me to be here.” Learning about the Prophets had been far more fulfilling than her service to the Founders, and even if she never made it to Bajor she couldn’t help but be grateful for what she already had.
“What’s it like, being a diplomat?” Varris said curiously. “I was never trained as a diplomat, myself. I was an administrator back in the Dominion, I rarely ever left Dominion space. Most of what I know about the Alpha Quadrant, I’ve learned since I arrived. I... hope it’s not rude to say I’m not familiar with your species,” she added. She was curious about where the small alien came from, but didn’t want to pry.
The Heretic and the Smuggler
vortaheretic:
“Varris,” she said, then nodded, a little nervously. “Alright then. I’d rather like to hear how a Vorta came to be the captain of a merchant vessel. And I’m sure if you were going to tell the Dominion I’m here, I’d already know about it.” At least, she hoped that was the case - but Keevan’s behavior was aberrant enough that she was feeling more confident that she was speaking to another defect. Even if he wasn’t… there couldn’t be any harm in meeting with him publicly on the station. Much as she liked the Bajorans and others that she spent time with on a daily basis, she couldn’t help missing the company of her own kind.
“Now,” she added, lips twisting into a wry smirk as she reached out to grab the padd back from him, “I need to get this back to my supervisor or they’ll have my head. Thirteen-hundred hours, then?”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Varris.” Keevan smirked, his stance relaxing as he relinquished the padd to her this time. He folded his arms after and nodded, watching her carefully.
He had to admit, he wouldn’t mind having a friend besides Weyoun and Yelgrun. He liked the pair well enough, but things with Weyoun were still awkward at best with their past, and Yelgrun rarely left his quarters. He spent all his time holed up in there, doing who knows what, so Keevan didn’t have much of a chance to reconnect with his mentor. So this Varris… a Vorta he’d never met before. She would be a much better candidate for an open friendship.
“I’ll see you then. At the replimat, thirteen-hundred hours. I usually frequent Quark’s, but then, this is for a different kind of meal.” He offered a smile before stepping back, letting her be on her way. Keevan hoped this would work out. After all, he told himself, us defects have to stick together.
Several hours later, Varris had changed out of her work uniform and was heading to the replimat, more than ready for a bite to eat after her busy shift. It wasn’t difficult to find Keevan - who was, naturally, the only other Vorta there.
She chose a Cardassian meal today, with the somewhat unconventional accompaniment of a glass of snail juice - it had recently become a favorite of hers thanks to the unique texture, though she was aware most non-Ferengi did not share her opinion. Varris gave Keevan a slightly nervous smile as she sat down across from him - even if he was probably another defect, she had no idea what to expect.
“It’s good to see you again, Captain Keevan,” she said, falling back on slightly increased formality to smooth over her own awkwardness. “I hope your morning has been more pleasant than mine.” Varris was a hard worker, and didn’t mind covering for her coworkers who’d been struck with the flu, but it was tiring.
A Chance Encounter
Services were over at the temple on the Promenade. Among the many Bajorans emerging from its doors was a single Vorta, head down as she tried to make her way through the crowd without getting in anyone’s way. A few gave her curious or even hostile glances, but most ignored her. Varris had been attending the temple for a while now, and most people were used to her presence. There were some among the Bajorans who objected to her on principle, but the vedek on DS9 had been very kind to her, as had the senior staff who’d allowed her to stay on the grounds of political asylum. She had a place to pray and worship the Prophets, and that was enough.
As she hurried down the promenade, headed for the replimat, she found herself colliding directly with another person, managing to send them both crashing to the floor. She sat up quickly, mortified. “I am so sorry,” she said, extending a hand. “Are you okay?”
@stargazer-stargazing
Zap had been on his way to the replimat himself, hoping to beat the post-service rush. He still didn’t understand religion, but he understood he had to hurry if he wanted to get to those recipes that had recently added within the next hour!
Then, suddenly, someone crashed into him and he fell hard. He shook the stars out of his vision and looked at the woman who’d sent him sprawling. Oh! A Vorta! Interesting… “I’m alright! Nothing too serious!” He took the offered hand, smiling politely. “What has you in such a rush, miss?”
Varris smiled, mostly out of relief at the lack of a hostile reaction. There were a lot of people on the station who distrusted a Vorta on sight, and crashing into this man the way she had, she’d been prepared for the worst. “Oh, just on my way to the replimat so I’ll have time for a meal before my shift,” she said, smiling. “Services at the temple went a little long today.” She straightened up, helping the man to his feet. “My name is Varris, by the way. Sorry again about that. I suppose I should really do a better job of looking where I’m going.” She laughed, still flushed a little purple with embarrassment. She’d been so focused on not getting in anyone’s way that she’d… knocked someone over instead.
He just smiled and shook his head. “No, no! I understand that Vorta have poor eyesight, so it’s really not like you could rush around and not bump into something!” He couldn’t imagine a life without his own keen eyesight. “You attend the services at the temple? I thought Vorta had a different religion…” He got up and brushed himself off. “Would you care to join me for lunch as we talk? I’m Ambassador Stargazer, but please call me Zap!”
“Most Vorta do, but I… well, you could say I converted. It’s a long story.” She didn’t often share it, though not because it distressed her - her encounter with the Prophets was one of her most precious memories. Still, it was a rather complicated situation. She was well aware that most Vorta viewed the Bajoran faith as a set of primitive superstitions.
“My name is Varris,” she told him. “I’d be happy to join you, Zap.” Varris was generally content with her life on the station, but friendly interactions like this were rare enough that she knew better than to pass them up. Vorta were a social species, and Varris was no exception, even though she’d been designed for administrative work rather than diplomacy.
Zap smiled as they went to get their respective meals. He ordered a fruit and seared meat bowl with some happa root juice, setting it down across the table from Varris’ own plate.
“I must say, you’re quite fascinating! My people don’t have a religion, really…We worship the land and its gifts! Aurora is our guardian and our ward…We care for it and it rewards our love!” He picked up a hot piece of meat with his fingers and popped it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he continued. “Some people think it’s weird that we think like this, but I think it’s weird that they think it’s weird! What made you decide to convert, if I may ask?”
“I don’t think it’s weird at all,” Varris said earnestly. “Your planet provides for you, just as the Prophets care for the Bajorans.” She laid out her meal, made up of small samples of food from different sections of the replicator menu - Klingon, Bajoran, human… while she had not yet approached the engineering team to ask about getting some Vorta food items on the menu, she could at least enjoy sampling food from the different cultures represented on the station, even if she couldn’t taste it.
She took a bite of the Klingon dish as he asked his question, mostly to give herself time to think about it. “I didn’t come to the Alpha Quadrant until the war was already underway,” she said, finally. “They needed more Vorta commanders, and I got a promotion. Only… something went wrong on the way here. There was a malfunction on the ship, and it would have been destroyed if the Prophets hadn’t saved us in the wormhole.”
Varris was smiling a little wistfully as she recounted the story. “They… were like nothing I’d ever seen before. They spoke to me, and… they were kind. They could tell I was frightened, and I think they were trying to reassure me, in their own way.” She shook her head. “I still don’t know why they chose to save me. But.. when I woke up safely in the Alpha Quadrant, my ship still intact… that was when I decided to leave. The Prophets were more divine than the Founders could ever hope to be, and I wanted to learn everything I could about them. To repay them in some small way for saving my life.”
“That’s wonderful! I’m glad you were able to find faith for yourself!” He took a gulp of his juice. “Maybe I can come to a service, just to gain some sort of understanding! I doubt I’ll be converted, but I like to learn!”
He tilted his head. “I don’t think devotion is real unless it’s earned…The prophets certainly seem to have earned your devotion! Nature has earned mine! Loyalty without choice isn’t devotion…Devotion without a reason isn’t real.”
Varris nodded slowly, her face serious. “I think so as well. And I’m… fortunate, I suppose, though I didn’t always think so. I’m defective.” She said it as a simple statement of fact, no trace of either pride or self-condemnation in her voice. “I remember what it was like, revering the Founders… and I still wanted to, when I was activated as Varris 4. But it was difficult to reconcile how I’d felt about them with their actions. It’s… hard to explain.”
She shrugged. “In the end, though… that’s what allowed me to choose the Prophets over them. I’m grateful for that, no matter how painful it was in the past. Who knows? Perhaps they were watching over me long before I knew of their existence.”
“Perhaps!” He took bite of his food. “Not to change the subject, but I’m curious what you do for a living! It must be…Interesting…Finding a job in the Federation. The Bajorans have learned to be a bit untrusting, not that I blame them one bit! They’re fairly welcoming, all things considered!”
He may like the company of Cardassians, but he didn’t for one second devalue Bajor’s struggles. If the Cardassian union decided to try and recapture Bajor, he would be on Bajor’s side and made sure to vocalize his opinion on the matter whenever it was brought up. No living being belonged to anyone. Even his pet and his plants weren’t truly his. He was just their caretaker and they were his friends.
Varris nodded. “Yes, there are people who have been very kind to me here. If the Bajoran government and station staff hadn’t allowed me to stay, I... don’t know what would have happened to me. Right now, I just... well, I take what work I can find. There’s always something that needs to be done in a place like this! And I don’t mind being one of the people who keeps the station running.”
Her smile turned wistful, however, as she took another bite. “I do hope, though, that I can go to Bajor someday. It... hasn’t been easy to get cleared for that. I would pursue membership in a religious order planetside, but I don’t think that will ever happen... I don’t think the Kai approves of my presence even here on the station.” Varris had never met the woman but knew she was one of the more conservative influences on Bajor, and was not especially welcoming to a non-Bajoran worshiper, let alone one from the Dominion. She’d never be permitted to join a monastery on Bajor.
vortaheretic
“I won’t!” Varris said hurriedly, trying to calm him before he moved too much and hurt himself further. “I’m right here, it’ll be okay.” She glanced sidelong at one of the medics as she spoke, making sure to confirm that it really would be okay for her to stay, and the Bajoran nodded to her reassuringly.
The Jem’Hadar was still nearby and that made her slightly nervous, but he didn’t seem to have taken any notice of her. If he was under this Vorta’s command, his priority was probably to protect his supervisor. She certainly hoped he didn’t decide to register her as a threat. If these two were still with the Dominion and realized who, or what, she was…
But she’d decided to help even knowing that risk. It was still the right thing to do. She wasn’t about to leave now, not after she’d promised this man she would stay with him. Besides, she hadn’t been attacked yet, and any attempts to extradite her using diplomatic means would probably fail. She was here under Bajor’s protection.
She kept pace with the medical team as they moved the injured Vorta to the infirmary, still with a tight grip on his hand. The touch seemed to reassure him, and so she wouldn’t let go unless she had to.
Everything was a blur as they rushed him back to the surgical unit, but the woman kept true to her word. They were only separated at the door to surgery when they slung him on the biobed and knocked him out. Just before the anesthetic drug him under, he promised himself that he would find her afterward.
…
Three hours and two units of blood later, he came out from his drug-induced slumber in recovery, somewhat confused as to how he had woken up with a surgical incision in his side and feeling like he’d woken up to the wrong end of a bottle. No one was in recovery with him except for the care staff which felt strange. There was a ghost of sensation in his hand and something tickling at his brain that told him that there was something he was forgetting.
His shirt and jacket had been ruined. He’d have to wear the replicated clothes home, much to his annoyance. He’d rather liked that shirt, too. It had been handmade by the Cardassian tailor that had taken over Garak’s shop several years back. Vorta blood would be impossible to get o–
Wait!
Vorta!Â
He needed to find the Vorta woman again. She’d promised to stay with him, even though he’d been a gory, woozy mess and had been true to her word as much as she’d been able. She’d been so kind to him, so compassionate…he had to find her, if only to thank her for her trouble. A quick inquiry to the care team told him that the waiting room was presently empty, but the young woman who had come with him had left contact information so that someone would be able to keep in touch with her.
After an extra hour of observation, the Doctor on duty acquiesced to let him go on heavy restrictions and strict bed rest. Clean, freshly dressed and far more presentable than when he’d gone in, he left the infirmary to find her. He’d followed the contact data to find where she worked and asked the receptionist to let her know that he would like the chance to see her when she was available. He was anxious; he was very excited about meeting her, but he schooled his expression as best he could and tried to be considerate. He would hate to freak her out, considering that they’d never met before he was bleeding out on the floor. He hoped that she wouldn’t find him creepy, but part of that was his incessant paranoia and self-consciousness talking. No, things would be fine.
He sat in the small office and listened to the clock tick as he waited. No, he met her for a reason–everything had reasons these days. He was sure that meeting her would be no different.
He gave her a broad smile as she came in through the door, offering a shy little wiggle-fingered wave as she came into view.
“Ah, hello! You must be Varris. I’m Weyoun Nine. It’s nice to meet you. You’ll have to forgive me for that dreadful scene earlier… I was having something of a bad day.”
Varris felt a jolt of surprise at the sight of another Vorta waiting for her as she left work. The initial fear quickly subsided, however, as she belatedly recognized him. It was the man she’d found injured on the Promenade, looking considerably healthier after his stay in the infirmary. She’d intended to drop by after her shift to find out how he was doing, but it looked as if that wouldn’t be necessary.
“Oh! That’s... yes, that’s me. Varris Four.” She tried to hide her surprise as he introduced himself. Weyoun - she knew that name, though she’d never met the man personally. He’d been one of the most high-ranking Vorta personnel in the Dominion before she’d left, though this couldn’t be the same Weyoun. She tried to remember who it had been back then - Five, or maybe Six? - before shaking the thought from her mind. It probably didn’t matter.
Still, it was enough to make her nervous - the Dominion wasn’t at war with the Alpha Quadrant anymore, and she had no way of knowing what Weyoun’s position was these days, but she couldn’t exactly hide the fact that she was no loyalist. Her work uniform and the Bajoran earring hanging from her right ear made that plain enough.
“I’m glad to see you on your feet again,” she said, trying to smile. “I’m sorry there wasn’t more I could do - I’m not exactly a trained medic...” All the same, he found herself saying a silent prayer of thanks to the Prophets for watching over him. Now that he was conscious, it felt a little too personal to mention out loud unless he asked, but she was grateful all the same.
ooc: small hiatus!
Mun is American and so will be unavailable due to turkey tomorrow. I should be around this weekend but might be slower than usual due to family things. Feel free to tag me or message me if there’s anything I absolutely must see and I’ll get to it when I’m online next. c:
just putting this here as well~
The Heretic and the Smuggler
vortaheretic:
“I didn’t expect to be bringing it to another Vorta.” Varris watched him a moment, wondering if she could actually trust that he was who he said he was. A Dominion ship wouldn’t have been allowed to dock - and even if it was, there would’ve been security procedures ensuring a nobody like her would be nowhere near it. But he could have been undercover, working toward some goal that a fighter and a squad of Jem’Hadar couldn’t accomplish. She couldn’t rule it out. He could have been searching for her–
No. No, that was just paranoia. She didn’t think his surprise had been feigned, and she was only here in the first place because she was doing a favor for a Bajoran. On a normal day she would have stayed in the cargo bay all day and been completely ignorant that she was unloading a Vorta captain’s cargo. Posing as a merchant to find someone as unimportant as she was would have been terribly inefficient - not like the Dominion at all.
She sighed and made herself step forward, holding out the padd. Whatever else was going on, she did still have a job to do. “All I need is your authorization and I’ll get out of your way, Captain,” she said, trying to sound as if this was perfectly routine.Â
Keevan was intrigued now. She seemed to be just as wary of him as he was of her, and somehow that was reassuring. He tilted his head almost lazily as he observed her, watching her body language for any sign of a threat. When there was none, he reached out and took the padd, signing his name in his usual script. “People do tend to react that way when they see me for the first time. We Vorta are rather infamous nowadays.”
He begun to hand the padd back to her then stopped, holding it just out of her reach, as something came to his mind. His lips curled up into a smile and he regarded her with a look of curiosity.
“Perhaps we should get properly acquainted with each other. Say, later today at lunch? Thirteen-hundred hours?” The other Vorta awaited her response, his ears perking forward. A sign of fascination. Intrigue. Curiosity. There was no sign of a threat in his behavior. Wariness, perhaps. But no threat. “I’m Keevan, by the way. Keevan Four, if you need the number.”
“Varris,” she said, then nodded, a little nervously. “Alright then. I’d rather like to hear how a Vorta came to be the captain of a merchant vessel. And I’m sure if you were going to tell the Dominion I’m here, I’d already know about it.” At least, she hoped that was the case - but Keevan’s behavior was aberrant enough that she was feeling more confident that she was speaking to another defect. Even if he wasn’t... there couldn’t be any harm in meeting with him publicly on the station. Much as she liked the Bajorans and others that she spent time with on a daily basis, she couldn’t help missing the company of her own kind.
“Now,” she added, lips twisting into a wry smirk as she reached out to grab the padd back from him, “I need to get this back to my supervisor or they’ll have my head. Thirteen-hundred hours, then?”
A Chance Encounter
Services were over at the temple on the Promenade. Among the many Bajorans emerging from its doors was a single Vorta, head down as she tried to make her way through the crowd without getting in anyone’s way. A few gave her curious or even hostile glances, but most ignored her. Varris had been attending the temple for a while now, and most people were used to her presence. There were some among the Bajorans who objected to her on principle, but the vedek on DS9 had been very kind to her, as had the senior staff who’d allowed her to stay on the grounds of political asylum. She had a place to pray and worship the Prophets, and that was enough.
As she hurried down the promenade, headed for the replimat, she found herself colliding directly with another person, managing to send them both crashing to the floor. She sat up quickly, mortified. “I am so sorry,” she said, extending a hand. “Are you okay?”
@stargazer-stargazing
Zap had been on his way to the replimat himself, hoping to beat the post-service rush. He still didn’t understand religion, but he understood he had to hurry if he wanted to get to those recipes that had recently added within the next hour!
Then, suddenly, someone crashed into him and he fell hard. He shook the stars out of his vision and looked at the woman who’d sent him sprawling. Oh! A Vorta! Interesting… “I’m alright! Nothing too serious!” He took the offered hand, smiling politely. “What has you in such a rush, miss?”
Varris smiled, mostly out of relief at the lack of a hostile reaction. There were a lot of people on the station who distrusted a Vorta on sight, and crashing into this man the way she had, she’d been prepared for the worst. “Oh, just on my way to the replimat so I’ll have time for a meal before my shift,” she said, smiling. “Services at the temple went a little long today.” She straightened up, helping the man to his feet. “My name is Varris, by the way. Sorry again about that. I suppose I should really do a better job of looking where I’m going.” She laughed, still flushed a little purple with embarrassment. She’d been so focused on not getting in anyone’s way that she’d… knocked someone over instead.
He just smiled and shook his head. “No, no! I understand that Vorta have poor eyesight, so it’s really not like you could rush around and not bump into something!” He couldn’t imagine a life without his own keen eyesight. “You attend the services at the temple? I thought Vorta had a different religion…” He got up and brushed himself off. “Would you care to join me for lunch as we talk? I’m Ambassador Stargazer, but please call me Zap!”
“Most Vorta do, but I… well, you could say I converted. It’s a long story.” She didn’t often share it, though not because it distressed her - her encounter with the Prophets was one of her most precious memories. Still, it was a rather complicated situation. She was well aware that most Vorta viewed the Bajoran faith as a set of primitive superstitions.
“My name is Varris,” she told him. “I’d be happy to join you, Zap.” Varris was generally content with her life on the station, but friendly interactions like this were rare enough that she knew better than to pass them up. Vorta were a social species, and Varris was no exception, even though she’d been designed for administrative work rather than diplomacy.
Zap smiled as they went to get their respective meals. He ordered a fruit and seared meat bowl with some happa root juice, setting it down across the table from Varris’ own plate.
“I must say, you’re quite fascinating! My people don’t have a religion, really…We worship the land and its gifts! Aurora is our guardian and our ward…We care for it and it rewards our love!” He picked up a hot piece of meat with his fingers and popped it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he continued. “Some people think it’s weird that we think like this, but I think it’s weird that they think it’s weird! What made you decide to convert, if I may ask?”
“I don’t think it’s weird at all,” Varris said earnestly. “Your planet provides for you, just as the Prophets care for the Bajorans.” She laid out her meal, made up of small samples of food from different sections of the replicator menu - Klingon, Bajoran, human… while she had not yet approached the engineering team to ask about getting some Vorta food items on the menu, she could at least enjoy sampling food from the different cultures represented on the station, even if she couldn’t taste it.
She took a bite of the Klingon dish as he asked his question, mostly to give herself time to think about it. “I didn’t come to the Alpha Quadrant until the war was already underway,” she said, finally. “They needed more Vorta commanders, and I got a promotion. Only… something went wrong on the way here. There was a malfunction on the ship, and it would have been destroyed if the Prophets hadn’t saved us in the wormhole.”
Varris was smiling a little wistfully as she recounted the story. “They… were like nothing I’d ever seen before. They spoke to me, and… they were kind. They could tell I was frightened, and I think they were trying to reassure me, in their own way.” She shook her head. “I still don’t know why they chose to save me. But.. when I woke up safely in the Alpha Quadrant, my ship still intact… that was when I decided to leave. The Prophets were more divine than the Founders could ever hope to be, and I wanted to learn everything I could about them. To repay them in some small way for saving my life.”
“That’s wonderful! I’m glad you were able to find faith for yourself!” He took a gulp of his juice. “Maybe I can come to a service, just to gain some sort of understanding! I doubt I’ll be converted, but I like to learn!”
He tilted his head. “I don’t think devotion is real unless it’s earned…The prophets certainly seem to have earned your devotion! Nature has earned mine! Loyalty without choice isn’t devotion…Devotion without a reason isn’t real.”
Varris nodded slowly, her face serious. “I think so as well. And I’m... fortunate, I suppose, though I didn’t always think so. I’m defective.” She said it as a simple statement of fact, no trace of either pride or self-condemnation in her voice. “I remember what it was like, revering the Founders... and I still wanted to, when I was activated as Varris 4. But it was difficult to reconcile how I’d felt about them with their actions. It’s... hard to explain.”
She shrugged. “In the end, though... that’s what allowed me to choose the Prophets over them. I’m grateful for that, no matter how painful it was in the past. Who knows? Perhaps they were watching over me long before I knew of their existence.”
A Chance Encounter
Services were over at the temple on the Promenade. Among the many Bajorans emerging from its doors was a single Vorta, head down as she tried to make her way through the crowd without getting in anyone’s way. A few gave her curious or even hostile glances, but most ignored her. Varris had been attending the temple for a while now, and most people were used to her presence. There were some among the Bajorans who objected to her on principle, but the vedek on DS9 had been very kind to her, as had the senior staff who’d allowed her to stay on the grounds of political asylum. She had a place to pray and worship the Prophets, and that was enough.
As she hurried down the promenade, headed for the replimat, she found herself colliding directly with another person, managing to send them both crashing to the floor. She sat up quickly, mortified. “I am so sorry,” she said, extending a hand. “Are you okay?”
@stargazer-stargazing
Zap had been on his way to the replimat himself, hoping to beat the post-service rush. He still didn’t understand religion, but he understood he had to hurry if he wanted to get to those recipes that had recently added within the next hour!
Then, suddenly, someone crashed into him and he fell hard. He shook the stars out of his vision and looked at the woman who’d sent him sprawling. Oh! A Vorta! Interesting… “I’m alright! Nothing too serious!” He took the offered hand, smiling politely. “What has you in such a rush, miss?”
Varris smiled, mostly out of relief at the lack of a hostile reaction. There were a lot of people on the station who distrusted a Vorta on sight, and crashing into this man the way she had, she’d been prepared for the worst. “Oh, just on my way to the replimat so I’ll have time for a meal before my shift,” she said, smiling. “Services at the temple went a little long today.” She straightened up, helping the man to his feet. “My name is Varris, by the way. Sorry again about that. I suppose I should really do a better job of looking where I’m going.” She laughed, still flushed a little purple with embarrassment. She’d been so focused on not getting in anyone’s way that she’d… knocked someone over instead.
He just smiled and shook his head. “No, no! I understand that Vorta have poor eyesight, so it’s really not like you could rush around and not bump into something!” He couldn’t imagine a life without his own keen eyesight. “You attend the services at the temple? I thought Vorta had a different religion…” He got up and brushed himself off. “Would you care to join me for lunch as we talk? I’m Ambassador Stargazer, but please call me Zap!”
“Most Vorta do, but I… well, you could say I converted. It’s a long story.” She didn’t often share it, though not because it distressed her - her encounter with the Prophets was one of her most precious memories. Still, it was a rather complicated situation. She was well aware that most Vorta viewed the Bajoran faith as a set of primitive superstitions.
“My name is Varris,” she told him. “I’d be happy to join you, Zap.” Varris was generally content with her life on the station, but friendly interactions like this were rare enough that she knew better than to pass them up. Vorta were a social species, and Varris was no exception, even though she’d been designed for administrative work rather than diplomacy.
Zap smiled as they went to get their respective meals. He ordered a fruit and seared meat bowl with some happa root juice, setting it down across the table from Varris’ own plate.
“I must say, you’re quite fascinating! My people don’t have a religion, really…We worship the land and its gifts! Aurora is our guardian and our ward…We care for it and it rewards our love!” He picked up a hot piece of meat with his fingers and popped it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he continued. “Some people think it’s weird that we think like this, but I think it’s weird that they think it’s weird! What made you decide to convert, if I may ask?”
“I don’t think it’s weird at all,” Varris said earnestly. “Your planet provides for you, just as the Prophets care for the Bajorans.” She laid out her meal, made up of small samples of food from different sections of the replicator menu - Klingon, Bajoran, human... while she had not yet approached the engineering team to ask about getting some Vorta food items on the menu, she could at least enjoy sampling food from the different cultures represented on the station, even if she couldn’t taste it.
She took a bite of the Klingon dish as he asked his question, mostly to give herself time to think about it. “I didn’t come to the Alpha Quadrant until the war was already underway,” she said, finally. “They needed more Vorta commanders, and I got a promotion. Only... something went wrong on the way here. There was a malfunction on the ship, and it would have been destroyed if the Prophets hadn’t saved us in the wormhole.”
Varris was smiling a little wistfully as she recounted the story. “They... were like nothing I’d ever seen before. They spoke to me, and... they were kind. They could tell I was frightened, and I think they were trying to reassure me, in their own way.” She shook her head. “I still don’t know why they chose to save me. But.. when I woke up safely in the Alpha Quadrant, my ship still intact... that was when I decided to leave. The Prophets were more divine than the Founders could ever hope to be, and I wanted to learn everything I could about them. To repay them in some small way for saving my life.”
The Heretic and the Smuggler
vortaheretic:
Varris, for her part, took a couple of quick, reflexive steps backward when she saw the other Vorta move toward her. For one wild moment, she considered running. She’d managed to keep herself under the radar on Deep Space 9, and she hadn’t thought the Dominion knew or cared where she was. If they’d found her…
But reason caught up with these wild thoughts, and she paused. He wouldn’t be here openly on the station if he was with the Dominion. Besides, the person she’d come looking for…
“Are… are you the captain of the Renegade?” Varris said, still warily keeping her distance from the other Vorta and ready to run if he turned out to be hostile. She hadn’t missed the phaser at his waist, or the way he’d started to reach for it when he saw her. She clutched the manifest padd tightly in both hands, held up in front of her chest like a shield.
Keevan certainly wasn’t dressed like a typical Dominion Vorta. A white shirt with the collar popped up underneath a yellow jacket, with dark purple pants and boots to match. A purposely messy kind of look. Even the hair, once properly kept in a poof, had a slightly more mussed up look to it. He certainly looked the part of a renegade.
“Indeed I am… I must admit, I… didn’t expect to have the manifest brought to me by another Vorta.” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, folding his arms once again and leaning his shoulder against the wall. Though his stance was casual, he was still clearly wary of her. Studying her.
He couldn’t recall Weyoun or Yelgrun ever mentioning another defect on the station. She must be relatively new, or somehow avoided their attention. Regardless of how or when she came here, he decided not to mention his defective compatriots just yet. He wasn’t sure of her just yet.
“I didn’t expect to be bringing it to another Vorta.” Varris watched him a moment, wondering if she could actually trust that he was who he said he was. A Dominion ship wouldn’t have been allowed to dock - and even if it was, there would’ve been security procedures ensuring a nobody like her would be nowhere near it. But he could have been undercover, working toward some goal that a fighter and a squad of Jem’Hadar couldn’t accomplish. She couldn’t rule it out. He could have been searching for her--
No. No, that was just paranoia. She didn’t think his surprise had been feigned, and she was only here in the first place because she was doing a favor for a Bajoran. On a normal day she would have stayed in the cargo bay all day and been completely ignorant that she was unloading a Vorta captain’s cargo. Posing as a merchant to find someone as unimportant as she was would have been terribly inefficient - not like the Dominion at all.
She sighed and made herself step forward, holding out the padd. Whatever else was going on, she did still have a job to do. “All I need is your authorization and I’ll get out of your way, Captain,” she said, trying to sound as if this was perfectly routine.Â
vortaheretic
He was fading fast. Varris tried futilely to staunch the bleeding, looking desperately over her shoulder for help. Security was on the way. “Help is coming, just hang on,” she said, voice shaking. She’d never made it to the front lines of the war, had never seen a person so badly wounded before, at least not up close. The agony on his face was terrible to watch. At some point she’d grabbed his hand, holding on tightly to his bloodied fingers as if that could do something to keep him grounded, conscious; she squeezed it, not knowing what else to do.
One of the Bajoran security officers ran up and crouched next to them, and Varris tried to calm herself enough to give an account of the situation - not that there was much she could say. She didn’t even know who this man was, or what had happened to him. The security officer tapped his combadge, calling for an emergency medical transport, as Varris clasped the dying Vorta’s hands in both of hers and desperately prayed to the Prophets to let him live, just as they’d once saved her.
Through the fog, Nine felt the person’s hands take hold of his and heard quiet, frantic prayers being said over him. He was having a hard time making out the words, but the cadence didn’t sound like prayers to Founders who were stone and uncaring; there was emotion there, hope there, desperation. He could feel himself being jostled around, more hands; the medics must be there. There was a bite and a cool sting at his neck and the pain eased a little as steady hands pressed to his side and worked about him. He could hear Rotan’talag’s strong voice as he spoke to someone nearby. But most importantly, his sticky hand was still being held by the person at his side.
He forced his narrowed field of view back upwards, to look at the kind soul that had been trying to help him. The fear on her face was earnest. She did not seem like the type to have tended to injuries before, and he was profoundly sorry to have put such a scare into her. He hoped he would live so he could apologize. Perhaps the powers that be would be kind enough to allow him to do that. She was the brave soul that came forward to help when all of the others simply cowered back…that debt had to be repaid in some way.Â
The medics were preparing to move him to the infirmary, and something desperate and dizzying sprung out at him suddenly when he thought of her disappearing into the crowd, never to be found again. Nine’s hand reached out to her with his other hand without thinking, reaching out towards her face as he was transferred onto a stretcher.Â
“Please…don’t leave. Stay…”
“I won’t!” Varris said hurriedly, trying to calm him before he moved too much and hurt himself further. “I’m right here, it’ll be okay.” She glanced sidelong at one of the medics as she spoke, making sure to confirm that it really would be okay for her to stay, and the Bajoran nodded to her reassuringly.Â
The Jem’Hadar was still nearby and that made her slightly nervous, but he didn’t seem to have taken any notice of her. If he was under this Vorta’s command, his priority was probably to protect his supervisor. She certainly hoped he didn’t decide to register her as a threat. If these two were still with the Dominion and realized who, or what, she was...
But she’d decided to help even knowing that risk. It was still the right thing to do. She wasn’t about to leave now, not after she’d promised this man she would stay with him. Besides, she hadn’t been attacked yet, and any attempts to extradite her using diplomatic means would probably fail. She was here under Bajor’s protection.
She kept pace with the medical team as they moved the injured Vorta to the infirmary, still with a tight grip on his hand. The touch seemed to reassure him, and so she wouldn’t let go unless she had to.
A Chance Encounter
Services were over at the temple on the Promenade. Among the many Bajorans emerging from its doors was a single Vorta, head down as she tried to make her way through the crowd without getting in anyone’s way. A few gave her curious or even hostile glances, but most ignored her. Varris had been attending the temple for a while now, and most people were used to her presence. There were some among the Bajorans who objected to her on principle, but the vedek on DS9 had been very kind to her, as had the senior staff who’d allowed her to stay on the grounds of political asylum. She had a place to pray and worship the Prophets, and that was enough.
As she hurried down the promenade, headed for the replimat, she found herself colliding directly with another person, managing to send them both crashing to the floor. She sat up quickly, mortified. “I am so sorry,” she said, extending a hand. “Are you okay?”
@stargazer-stargazing
Zap had been on his way to the replimat himself, hoping to beat the post-service rush. He still didn’t understand religion, but he understood he had to hurry if he wanted to get to those recipes that had recently added within the next hour!
Then, suddenly, someone crashed into him and he fell hard. He shook the stars out of his vision and looked at the woman who’d sent him sprawling. Oh! A Vorta! Interesting… “I’m alright! Nothing too serious!” He took the offered hand, smiling politely. “What has you in such a rush, miss?”
Varris smiled, mostly out of relief at the lack of a hostile reaction. There were a lot of people on the station who distrusted a Vorta on sight, and crashing into this man the way she had, she’d been prepared for the worst. “Oh, just on my way to the replimat so I’ll have time for a meal before my shift,” she said, smiling. “Services at the temple went a little long today.” She straightened up, helping the man to his feet. “My name is Varris, by the way. Sorry again about that. I suppose I should really do a better job of looking where I’m going.” She laughed, still flushed a little purple with embarrassment. She’d been so focused on not getting in anyone’s way that she’d… knocked someone over instead.
He just smiled and shook his head. “No, no! I understand that Vorta have poor eyesight, so it’s really not like you could rush around and not bump into something!” He couldn’t imagine a life without his own keen eyesight. “You attend the services at the temple? I thought Vorta had a different religion…” He got up and brushed himself off. “Would you care to join me for lunch as we talk? I’m Ambassador Stargazer, but please call me Zap!”
“Most Vorta do, but I... well, you could say I converted. It’s a long story.” She didn’t often share it, though not because it distressed her - her encounter with the Prophets was one of her most precious memories. Still, it was a rather complicated situation. She was well aware that most Vorta viewed the Bajoran faith as a set of primitive superstitions.
“My name is Varris,” she told him. “I’d be happy to join you, Zap.” Varris was generally content with her life on the station, but friendly interactions like this were rare enough that she knew better than to pass them up. Vorta were a social species, and Varris was no exception, even though she’d been designed for administrative work rather than diplomacy.
The Heretic and the Smuggler
vortaheretic:
Varris yawned, wishing caffeine had more of an effect on Vorta physiology as she made her way to the docking bay where her supervisor had currently assigned her. She wasn’t usually up this early, but one of her coworkers had unexpectedly come down with a nasty strain of Bajoran flu and she’d agreed to cover his shift. The virus seemed to be going around just now. Varris wasn’t sure if Vorta were susceptible, but she’d been careful just in case.
The Bajoran officer overseeing things at the docking bay waved her distractedly towards the ship they were currently unloading, and she set to work. By this point the sight of a Vorta worker was no longer surprising to anyone who regularly worked on the docking ring, and she was even starting to be on friendly terms with a few of the Bajorans who attended temple services with her. It was a nice change from the hostility that had initially greeted her on the station, and sometimes still did as the rest of her people continued to pose a threat to Bajor and the Federation.
As she was about to pick up another crate, one of the other workers stopped her, handing her a padd. “Can you get the captain to sign this manifest?” he said. “I really need to get this turned in or the boss’ll have my head, but I don’t have time, I have to be in section 15 in ten minutes. Half their team’s out sick.”
“Of course,” Varris assured him. “Go ahead, I’ll get this to them.” The Bajoran thanked her in relief and ran off, as Varris headed off in search of this ship’s captain.
@defectivevorta-and-changeling
Keevan took great pride in his ship, the Renegade. He’d worked damn hard to get it, and damn hard to keep it. He didn’t have to run a smuggling line between the Alpha and Gamma quadrants, risking his neck to bring supplies to the neutral and Federation worlds who needed relief. But he did anyway. Not for the money, though the latinum he earned was quite a decent cushion of finances. He wasn’t doing it for the glory, either. Recognition was nice, but it would only paint a brighter target on his head. He did this to aid the Federation’s effort in toppling the Dominion. He wanted to see the Founders fall to their knees and beg for mercy. Working to bring this about took time and effort.
Sometimes, though, he needed downtime. Deep Space Nine had become his most common rest stop when he needed to regroup and resupply. Quark was also quite the reliable contact, despite their… initial relationship. The Ferengi was the man behind his predecessor’s death, yes. A rather humiliating end. But he was good for business. So, Keevan made the station his base of operations, in a way.
He had been taking a moment to relax, in the quiet halls of the early morning. Quark’s wasn’t open just yet, and the daily hustle and bustle had yet to fill the corridors and the Promenade. A moment of peace. Keevan leaned against the wall, arms folded and his eyes closed, when he heard the sound of footsteps.
They were light, fast-paced. Someone in a rush, perhaps? Or perhaps one of the Bajoran workers unloading his ship coming with the manifest. He expected as much, another reason he had yet to journey to the Promenade. “Looking for me, I presume?” He spoke, not yet opening his eyes as he unfolded his arms and pushed off the wall, turning to regard the other.
When he did open his eyes, they quickly widened in shock and his blood nearly ran cold. Another Vorta. He was already reaching for his phaser before he paused and took stock of the situation. A quick look told him that she was not with the Dominion. No, that was a Bajoran uniform. And was that a Bajoran earring? He let his hand fall back to his side and relax. She had to be another defect.
Varris, for her part, took a couple of quick, reflexive steps backward when she saw the other Vorta move toward her. For one wild moment, she considered running. She'd managed to keep herself under the radar on Deep Space 9, and she hadn't thought the Dominion knew or cared where she was. If they'd found her...
But reason caught up with these wild thoughts, and she paused. He wouldn't be here openly on the station if he was with the Dominion. Besides, the person she'd come looking for...
"Are... are you the captain of the Renegade?" Varris said, still warily keeping her distance from the other Vorta and ready to run if he turned out to be hostile. She hadn't missed the phaser at his waist, or the way he'd started to reach for it when he saw her. She clutched the manifest padd tightly in both hands, held up in front of her chest like a shield.
vortaheretic
Varris didn’t know what had happened, but she heard the screams and saw people running. She had just finished her work shift on the docking ring and was heading back to her quarters, but now after a moment’s hesitation she turned and started towards whatever those people had been running from. If there was something she could do to help, it would not be right to turn away.
Still, she almost did turn away at the sight of a furious Jem’Hadar in combat. She had not seen one up close since she’d abandoned her own squad to defect to Bajor, several years previous, and the thought of being found by them was one of her most persistent nightmares. But someone was on the ground near the Jem’Hadar, clearly injured, and no one else had come near enough to help. It would be a few minutes at least before a security team could get close enough–
She crept closer. The injured man turned out to be a Vorta. Varris didn’t let this fact stop her, and made an attempt to pull him away from the fighting. She could deal with the consequences later - even if he was a Dominion loyalist, it didn’t mean she could leave him here to die.
“Are you okay? Can you hear me?” He was bleeding heavily, and Varris wasn’t sure that her limited knowledge of first aid would be enough. Behind her, there were shouts, and she called out over her shoulder, “Please, we need a medic! He’s hurt!”
Nine’s head swam and everything sounded incredibly far away. He felt like he was falling; his side molten hot and weeping. Somewhere very far away he registered a presence, a voice, someone calling for help. His wound burned like fire but he was too weak to flinch as he felt pressure on the wound.Â
Maybe someone is helping him? That’s kind of them…they’re so far away. Time is short, his thoughts rambled incoherently. He reaches out with his wet hand to grab at their arm, to touch them. He was too far gone to see much or speak, but the voice was soothing and was as scared as he felt, and maybe if he could reach out and touch them they would understand how grateful he was that they tried to help him. He wouldn’t live to see Odo’s work done, but he had tried and he hopes that Odo can be proud of him, regardless. Rotan would live, maybe he will continue when Nine cannot…
The person was pulling him and the shearing movement of the pull jolted his wound just enough to provide a sobering burst of pain to sharpen his senses a little.
Someone’s talking again. A voice. A feminine voice. They asked him a question.
yes, i can hear you, he thinks. He could be speaking right now, hopes he is, but up is down and he is so lost and scared, but he shouldn’t be. He’s died before, this is not new.
“Oh,” he whispers as he looks up into the face of a Vorta female he’s never met, her head haloed by the halogen lamps above them. The world threatened to ebb away again as she tried to tend to him.
“T-thank you…”
Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, he heard the clatter of feet as a team approached.
He was fading fast. Varris tried futilely to staunch the bleeding, looking desperately over her shoulder for help. Security was on the way. “Help is coming, just hang on,” she said, voice shaking. She’d never made it to the front lines of the war, had never seen a person so badly wounded before, at least not up close. The agony on his face was terrible to watch. At some point she’d grabbed his hand, holding on tightly to his bloodied fingers as if that could do something to keep him grounded, conscious; she squeezed it, not knowing what else to do.
One of the Bajoran security officers ran up and crouched next to them, and Varris tried to calm herself enough to give an account of the situation - not that there was much she could say. She didn’t even know who this man was, or what had happened to him. The security officer tapped his combadge, calling for an emergency medical transport, as Varris clasped the dying Vorta’s hands in both of hers and desperately prayed to the Prophets to let him live, just as they’d once saved her.
