Welcome to Star Trek Simulation Forum

Register now to gain access to all of our features. Once registered and logged in, you will be able to contribute to this site by submitting your own content or replying to existing content. You'll be able to customize your profile, receive reputation points as a reward for submitting content, while also communicating with other members via your own private inbox, plus much more! This message will be removed once you have signed in.

Sign in to follow this  
Followers 0
Cptn Swain

Introspection and Goodbye

Taenix sat alone on bended knees on the cool, barren surface that had once been her sanctum aboard the facility simply designated Dominion Command Center Ek-129. It was strange for her now, to be meditating on the past and future. Since her rebirth, she had spent little time considering either, focusing on the present, on moving her people, her nation through their current crisis; but now that she had revealed the truth to them, now that she had admitted her sins before the whole of the council and had decided to step aside and end her life, she found the future strangely occupying.

 

The Vorta, while fundamentalist in their devotions to the Founders, were far from ritualistic. Unlike other religions, there were no shrines to be found, no churches. There wasn’t even really dogma. Not in the traditional sense. Faith, for the Vorta, had always been an immutable quality, as much a part of who they were as a species and as individuals as their weak eyes or keen sense of hearing.

 

Taenix had always considered such qualities of their faith to be a blessing. They knew their gods were real. They knew that their creation was not some myth, but an actual fact, provable, tangible. And even now that the Founders had left them, they knew they existed they knew that they were real.

 

The Vorta were created by the Founders to serve as their messengers, their liaisons to the ‘solids.’ As the Dominion grew, they became much more. They were the overseers and caretakers, keeping careful watch over the Dominion and assuring the order was maintained throughout the realm.

 

Therein lay the problem swirling in her head. How could the Vorta or even the Jem’Hadar go forward without the Founders and without the Dominion they were created to serve and preserve? They had no culture of their own, no identity beyond that. They were clones. Birthed from scientific experiments on lesser creatures to create the perfect servants.

 

Perhaps Keevan was correct. Perhaps the Vorta and Jem’Hadar should just go doing what they had done for hundreds of years. It was true, few Vorta and even fewer Jem’Hadar had ever spent much time in commune with the Founders directly. Yet, there was a certain flaw to that thinking. For one, it directly contradicted the wishes of Odo and the Great Link. The Dominion, had been birthed from the Founders deep mistrust of solids; and if they were to truly heal those wounds, they could not cling to the past.

 

It was a selfish notion, one that seemed at odds with this notion of moving forward as a race. Yes, it would liberate hundreds of worlds from generations of oppression, but what about their children?

 

“I thought I might find you here.”

 

Her eyes opened. She had half-expected to turn to see Weyoun or even Keevan, but instead she was greeted by the diminutive Semil -- in holographic visage. “Come to gloat over my fall from grace?”

 

“Far from it,” he said with a small smile. “What you did was honorable, even if it took some cajoling as the humans would say.”

 

“If the Council was to hear of my sins, I would have them hear from me personally.”

 

Semil nodded. “To be honest, I think many of them knew. Knew but didn’t want to admit it.”

 

Taenix returned to her meditation. She had suspected as much, though it seemed unimportant now. “What they and you do now,” she said placidly. “Is up to you. I have no further purpose in this life.”

 

“Strange,” he said, tilting his head to one side. “How much we end up mimicking our creators. They have left us with such a mess, and then, when we need them most, they leave us to our devices, having never given us the tools to deal with those problems.”

 

“My purpose,” she said, unmoved. “Was to assist your generation of Vorta with the Scorpiad. I have completed that task. I should not have lingered as long as I have. The future of our people lies with your generation, not mine.”

 

“And yet, you did linger and have made numerous decisions that will forever affect us.”

 

“Perhaps. But I have made my decision and I have no intention of changing it. The Council has my genetic pattern, if they wish to have my counsel again, they are free to remake me.”

 

“How many times have you died?”

 

“Eight.” The answer came quicker than Semil had expected.

 

“I see. And did you ever wonder, as you felt the life flickering out of you what your next life would bring?”

 

“No,” she said, her eyes opening for a moment before closing again. “Nor did I ever care. We are born to serve the Founders. In all eight of my lifetimes, I have done only that. If I should be born a ninth time, I will do only that.”

 

“What if we no longer had to serve? What if we could choose our fates? What if you could be a painter, or a writer? Hmm?”

 

“Perhaps you will, but for me? I have never been free to choose my destiny.”

 

“But aren’t you choosing it now? You could continue to live and to serve; you could have continued your duplicity on the status of the Founders. Yes, your actions might have been forced, but ultimately didn’t you make a choice?”

 

“Semil,” she said plainly. “I appreciate your philosophical line of questioning. I hope for the sake of the Dominion and for our people that you will add your voice and your ideas to the continuum among the others to help shape our future, but your words are wasted upon me...”

 

“Then let me be clear: I am offering you an opportunity to experience a new life.”

 

A genuine smile crept across her face. “Your offer is kind Semil, but I do not wish to live again unless called upon by the Founders or the Council. I was not born to want for myself, only to serve. I have failed in that duty and now I must make my penance.

 

"May the Founder’s guide you and your generation on the next phase of our journey. Goodbye, Semil.”

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!


Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.


Sign In Now
Sign in to follow this  
Followers 0