Supplication and Denial of the Gods

[Cptn Corizon 0]

“Never invoke the gods unless you really want them to appear, it annoys them very much,” C.K. Chesterton.

 

The Vorta functionary Lexin sat cross legged in the near empty room staring at the glowing purple device the humans had termed the ‘Holy Grail.’ This name, he’d discovered, wasn’t entirely accurate, but the humans had such limited understandings.

 

He sighed and waited for the purple light to change to that of the face of his gods. While studying the humanoids from the Alpha Quadrant, he ran across a very odd notion. Apparently many humans had formed a theory that their gods were created out of fear.

 

It was a truly foreign concept for the Vorta, but then he reminded himself, their gods were false. They were created by imperfect beings and their beliefs were perpetrated by imperfect beings. The Founders, on the other hand, were real. They were truly wise in all things and had created the Vorta and Jem’Hadar to be the perfect servants.

 

Unlike the Alpha Quadrant humanoids, he did not fear his gods. He could never recall a time during any of his lifetimes in which he’d been fearful of a Founder. He loved the Founders. They were wise and communion in their presence was a worldly experience.

 

Of course that reverence had been bred into their genetic make-up. And while they shared a love and respect for the Founders with the Jem’Hadar, the bond between Vorta and Founder was something he doubted anyone could ever understand. They needed the Founders. Without the guidance of the gods they were lost, directionless and unable to make decisions. It was not, as some had suggested, their place to interpret the will of the Founders.

 

Still, now that he finally had the chance to speak to the gods he was apprehensive. Semil, for all his faults, had brought up an interesting point in their last conversation – one he’d told no one of, and tried not to think about if at all possible. But now, now that he was about to sit face to face with his makers for the first time in many years he couldn’t help but keep that conversation out of his head.

 

“Why do you think the Jem’Hadar were created with a genetic predisposition to need white, Lexin?”

 

The thought had occurred to him, of course; like all Vorta he’d overseen the distribution ritual numerous times. Unphased, he responded with the programmed response. “To remind them of the debt they owe to the Founders. Without the Founders, there is no white – without the white, there is no life.”

 

Semil nodded. “Yes, but you do understand the larger complication.”

 

Lexin tipped his head in the very typical Vorta manner. “Elaborate.”

 

“The Founders created the Jem’hadar with a need for white to control them, to prevent them from ever turning on them and slaying their gods…”

 

“And their servants,” Lexin reluctantly admitted.

 

“Yes,” Semil said. “And they have done the same to us.”

Generations of engrained tendencies strained as he listened to Semil. What he spoke was heresy. Still, he remained calm and decided to let Semil finish.

 

“Do you not see that the Founders have held us back? They have prevented us from ever achieving self-actualization by keeping us dependent on them as they keep the Jem’Hadar dependent.”

 

“Our purpose is to serve the Founders.”

 

“And how do we serve them by being little more than glorified machines? We are sentient creatures with minds of our own and our free will is being constrained by the Founders who no longer have our own interests in mind, but their own.”

 

Lexin stared coldly at the Vorta whom he’d known for generations. How he could be brought to say such ravings. “What you speak of is heresy, and if you’d not already abandoned the Founders to serve the false…”

 

Semil waved a hand. “They are Founders, Lexin. They simply do not approve of the policies and tactics of the Great Link…”

 

“Then they are just as heretical…”

 

“Consider for a moment your response. Are those your thoughts? Your feelings? Or are they just the programmed response that the Founders have made you have.”

 

The conversation lingered for what seemed an epoch in Lexin’s head, bouncing to and fro until the silent purple light that bathed the near empty cargo compartment that housed the ‘Grail’ fluttered to life. Rising, Lexin drew in a long deep breath of the rapidly oxidizing air as the holoprojection sprung forth and he found himself eye to eye with Odo, leader of the Great Link.

 

Bringing his wrists together and bowing his head, Lexin took in the serenity of the one called Odo before his amethyst eyes pointed towards the floor. He’d never met the Founder, personally, who’d brought so drastic of changes to the Link, the Dominion and the Gamma Quadrant; but from his initial review there was no outward difference between he and any other Founder he’d met.

 

“You are Lexin?” Odo queried, motioning towards the Vorta.

 

Lexin remained in his position, not looking up. “I am Lexin.”

 

Odo sighed slightly. He had never been comfortable with the behavior of the Vorta towards him and after spending more time around them, he had began to understand why the Prophets chose not to commune with the Bajorans more often.

 

“You may look up,” Odo prodded lightly. “I am not going to turn you to stone.”

 

Lexin finally looked up, again taking in Odo’s visage. “I am most grateful for your audience… there were many who doubted we would be able to speak to you again so soon…”

 

“That was the idea of isolation,” Odo said with a neutral expression that didn’t engender the sarcasm he felt. “So why have you gone to such great measures, Lexin, to find us.”

 

Lexin took a deep breath and began to explain, from the beginning, what had been occurring in the Dominion since the Founders had gone into the so-called Glorious Isolation. Odo, for his part listened intently. Though he’d come to prefer the near telepathic communication of the Great Link, he’d spent so much time with the Solids that he didn’t mind their primitive verbal communications.

 

Nodding occasionally and smiling or frowning when a topic came up he approved of, such as the establishment of the alliance that had borne Camelot Station, or disapproved of, such as Keevan’s purges of dissenters, Odo considered everything that was being said.

 

Lexin finally began to crescendo into his final point, “As you can see,” he said, “though Keevan and Taenix have done an admirable job of keeping the Dominion from completely falling apart – given the circumstances – without the guidance of the Founders we are leaderless, directionless and lost. We’re wandering in a wilderness without a map of compass.”

 

Odo nodded. “And you say some are turning to Eloi and the Hundred for that guidance?”

 

“Yes,” Lexin said. “But many of us cannot accept them as a replacement for the Founders. The ideas they are advocating, the beliefs they are suggesting go against everything that has been programmed into us to believe is correct and proper.”

 

Nodding again Odo sighed, a frown appearing on his face. Finally after a long moment of thought, he spoke directly. “What is it that you wish, Lexin?”

 

The directness of the question caught him off guard. A Founder asking a Vorta what he wanted? It took a full minute of blinking and reorganizing thought patterns before Lexin reminded himself that Odo was unlike the other members of the Great Link and was, himself, one of the Hundred.

 

Choosing his words carefully, Lexin finally responded. “Though I do not doubt the Founder’s wisdom and vision,” he said. “I perhaps wonder if it is not time you returned from isolation to guide us through these difficult times.”

 

Odo shook his head. “I am afraid that is not an option, Lexin.”

 

The Vorta blinked as his entire moral center of right and wrong was suddenly thrown off its delicate equilibrium. The Founders were wise in all things. They were gods. They couldn’t be mistaken, could they? But how else could one explain Odo’s response?

 

Once again careful of his tone, Lexin pushed again. “Founder… surely you mean that you yourself cannot return, but perhaps another member of the Link, a proxy?”

 

Again Odo shook his head. “No, I meant we will not be ending our isolation. The problems the link faces are not simple nor are they solved. It could take generations and until we have solved those issues the isolation will not end.”

 

“But the Dominion,” Lexin protested, years of genetic manipulation fighting against raw emotion. “Founder…Odo, please reconsider. The Dominion is falling apart; we need your guidance…”

 

Odo waved his hand. “The Dominion is not my concern… the Gr…”

 

“The Dominion is your responsibility… the Founders created it… us…”

 

Sternly Odo waited for Lexin to finish. Lexin, for his part, had realized his emotional outburst and instantly felt a desire to activate his implant – what was he doing? This was a Founder he was talking to, not some irresponsible child.

 

“I understand your feelings,” Odo said calmly, but sternly. “However, the Dominion is temporal. Empires come and go, but the Great Link must endure. The Vorta are resilient, they will find a way to continue the Dominion according to their own desires, and perhaps someday, when we are ready, we will return.”

 

Lexin felt the warmth stolen from his heart. The love he felt for the Founders was suddenly, inexplicably, being twisted. Yet, if this was this wish of the Gods, he would respect it. He would have to, wouldn’t he?

 

Slowly, forcing himself to, he nodded. “The Founders are wise in all things. What orders do you give me, Founder.”

 

“I entrust one final task to you, after this – we will not answer the call of this device again.”

 

Nodding, Lexin motioned for him to continue explaining.

 

“I am concerned about the Hundred,” he said. “You are to transport this device to a place where you may arrange a meeting with Eloi the leader of their new link and myself. He and I must commune, we have much to discuss and hopefully he will see the wisdom in joining us to repair the damage that has been done to our species.”

 

Lexin nodded his understanding. “Is that all, Founder?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It will be sometime before this vessel returns to Dominion space and I am able to arrange the meeting… I w…”

 

“Time is only perceived, Lexin.”

 

“Yes, Founder.”

 

The holoprojection finally faded and Lexin once again found himself bathed in purple light. For the first time in his life he felt utterly alone. The Founders, his gods, were abandoning him and his entire species to their own devices. For the first time, he understood how other solids felt about their own gods. He placed his hands over his physical heart. Metaphorically, a hole had begun forming in him. Everything he’d been certain in was falling and crumbling around him.

 

A painful epiphany was settling – Semil was right. The Founders were only looking out for themselves, they no longer cared what happened to the beings, to the nation they had created.