Star Trek: Deep Space Nine - 057 - Fearful Symmetry

by Olivia Woods

  The Bajoran on the shatterframe screen gazed back at Iliana with a dull, vacant expression, brown eyes staring out from a gaunt, pale face. She looks numb, Iliana thought. Or is that merely a pretense, to make her appear as harmless as possible? Guessing the latter, Iliana’s attention kept going back to the Bajoran’s unruly mane, the copper color so utterly alien that she couldn’t help but stare.

  “Her name is Kira Nerys,” Entek said, standing next to her. “She’s a member of the Shakaar terrorist group in the Bajoran insurgency.”

  “What’s the assignment? Am I to kill her?”

  Entek smiled thinly, and Iliana privately chastised herself for her display of impatience. There was a time when such a lapse would have merited a backhanded blow across the face, but Entek seemed to have grown more forgiving over the last two years.

  “We have that particular task already delegated,” he said. “Yours will be to infiltrate the terrorists as a sleeper agent, posing as one of them. This one.”

  Iliana frowned. “For how long?”

  “No longer than necessary,” Entek answered. “A year, perhaps. Two at most. The plan is to have you embedded long enough to acquire intelligence that will allow us to break the insurgency more quickly, and with minimum collateral damage.”

  “You told me the Bajoran insurgency was structured in independent cells, mostly isolated from each other.”

  Entek nodded. “True. And it has proven to be a frustratingly effective low-tech defense against even our most sophisticated methods of interrogation and surveillance.” Iliana thought there was an almost grudging respect in her mentor’s voice. “But having a sleeper agent operating in their very midst will allow us to amass unprecedented data on their methods, their resources, their limitations, their accomplices…and it will put you in the ideal position from which to orchestrate a trap involving as many resistance cells as possible, once you’re activated.”

  Iliana’s eyes returned to the face on the screen. “I assume you intend to have me undergo some very radical cosmetic surgery in order to resemble this Bajoran.”

  “Not as radical as you may think.”

  “What exactly does that mean? We look nothing alike.”

  Entek held up a finger. “Not quite true. Some years ago, the Order’s head of research, Doctor Mindur Timot, made a fascinating discovery that has revolutioned our deep-cover operations. Apparently there are a number of recurring morphologies common to many of the known cardassoid species. Why this is, no one is certain. Some have suggested that it speaks to common, albeit distant, genetic ancestry, however repugnant that notion may seem. Whatever the real reason, once the anomaly was detected, it quickly became clear how we might use it to our advantage.”

  “Impersonation,” Iliana said.

  Entek nodded. “The Order now maintains a database of alien individuals possessing morphologies that are a close match for those of living Cardassians, and we take advantage of those matches whenever the right opportunity presents itself.” He gestured toward the Bajoran on the screen. “This is one such opportunity.” Entek’s face then took on the faraway look that often came to him when he was reliving a memory. “It would amaze you to know how many matches we’ve found for Gul Danar, across how many species. Human, Klingon, Romulan-it’s quite remarkable, really. Unfortunate that he has consistently refused such service, but then, the work does require a degree of subtlety most guls are lacking in.”

  Iliana ignored the digression. “You’re saying I look like that?”

  Entek refocused on her. “Essentially, yes.” He keyed a sequence into a remote padd he held, and the image of the Bajoran slid to one side to make room for a similar holo of Iliana. Then a red grid was superimposed over both images, highlighting specific areas on each face and seeming to follow the skeletal structures beneath their very different skins. The highlighted areas appeared identical. “On a fundamental level, you and Kira are almost a perfect match, not just in facial morphology, but in age, height, weight. Your voice is pitched slightly higher, but that adjustment will be as easy to make as the external ones. We’re quite fortunate.”

  Fortunate, Iliana thought. Yes, I suppose we are.

  “There’s something else,” Entek said, turning away from the screen and taking a seat at the conference table. From the tone of his voice and the way he broke eye contact, she guessed it was something she would like even less than the prospect of surgical alterations. He gestured for Iliana to join him, and when she had seated herself, he told her the rest. “Achieving the level of trust and penetration this operation requires can best be accomplished if you actually believe yourself to be one of them. It will therefore be necessary to suppress your real identity for the duration, and replace it with that of our target.”

  Iliana stared at him. “I won’t know who I really am?”

  “Not until you’re activated, no,” Entek said. “The methods we use will prevent your true memories from surfacing without large doses of desegranine, which must be delivered directly into the bloodstream. When the time comes, one of our people will seek you out to inject you with the drug so you can begin the next phase of your assignment.”

  “For this to work, you’ll need the real Kira alive,” Iliana deduced, “at least until you can perform the memory transfer.”

  Entek nodded. “We’re searching for her even now. We’ve managed to narrow the location of her cell to a stretch of hills on the primary continent of Bajor’s northern hemisphere. They’re burrowed in like voles. It’s just a matter of time before we flush them out.

  “As you’ve undoubtedly realized by now, this is no minor assignment we’ve tasked you with,” Entek continued. “It was tailored specifically to you because of your close physical resemblence to the target. Without you, there is no mission. It’s extremely sensitive and extremely dangerous, and requires considerable sacrifice on your part. I’m telling you this because even though I could make this mission an order, I’m choosing instead to make it voluntary.”

  “Why?” Iliana asked.

  “For two reasons. The first is that the memory procedures you need to undergo will stand the best chance of success if you subject yourself willingly.”

  “And the second reason?”

  Entek leaned forward in his chair. “I need to know that you’ll take this assignment for no other reason than to do your part in service to Cardassia.”

  “Absolutely,” Iliana said without hesitation. “This I vow.” Now what haven’t you told me, my dear mentor?

  “In that case,” Entek said, “there’s one more thing you need to know.” He produced a padd from a small case next to him and handed it to her. She picked it up and saw that the file displayed on its screen was an extract of the intelligence summary for Kira Nerys. She scrolled through it rapidly, committing the details to memory, until one item under KNOWN TERRORIST ACTS made her stop dead.

  Gul Pirak’s compound. The Order had identified Kira’s cell as the one responsible for the bombing.

  Suddenly the clarity of self and certainty of purpose Entek had promised her in what now seemed like another life was hers, winking at her from the padd’s tiny display, and from the alien face on the conference-room screen. Iliana knew beyond any doubt that everything she had endured the past two years had led her to this. She calmly set down the padd and looked up at Entek, knowing her face betrayed nothing. “When do we begin?” she asked.

  Her parents did not take the news well.

  Iliana was allowed one last furlough of six days before the medical procedures were to begin, and she chose to spend it with her family. She could not reveal the specifics of her assignment, of course, but her parents knew that she was being sent offworld on a long-term mission, and it pained them greatly, especially her mother.

  “You don’t need to do this, you know,” Kaleen told her on her third day back home. Iliana was taking a freshly replicated cup of oceanleaf tea to Tekeny’s unoccupied study, planning to reread her favorite sections of The Never
Ending Sacrifice, when her mother came up behind her.

  “Better this than fish juice,” Iliana answered, taking a sip from the steaming cup as she searched her father’s shelf for the beautifully bound hardcopy.

  “That isn’t what I meant. Your-“

  “I know what you meant,” said Iliana, finding the book and moving to one of the soft chairs in the study’s sitting area. “And you’re wrong. I do need to do this.”

  Kaleen took the chair opposite her, leaning forward restlessly. “Your father has great influence. He can arrange to have you reassigned.”

  “Absolutely not,” Iliana said, shaking her head. “I don’t want Father to interfere with my duties. I forbid it.”

  “Then withdraw from the mission,” her mother urged. “You said that it was voluntary. Tell Entek you changed your mind.”

  Iliana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How can you ask me to do such a thing? You of all people?” She set down the book and her cup on the low table between the chairs. “I have responsibilities now that I won’t shirk, even if I could.”

  “Don’t you dare presume to talk to me of responsibility,” Kaleen said. “I’m your mother!”

  “Yes, and I’m your daughter,” Iliana said. “But I’m not your child anymore.”

  Kaleen got up and turned away, futilely attempting to conceal her tears as she walked toward Tekeny’s desk.

  “Mother,” Iliana said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  “No,” Kaleen said, her fingers idly touching Ascension, the bone carving that rested in the middle of the desk. “If anyone should apologize, it’s I. This is my fault. I should have compelled you to attend one of the institutes when you came of age. But I indulged your willfulness, encouraged your independence, gave you a say in choosing your life’s direction when you were far too young to make such a choice.” She turned back, facing Iliana with tears streaking down both cheeks. “This is the result. I have no one to blame but myself.”

  Iliana was crushed. “Have I disappointed you so much?” she asked.

  “Is that all you think you’ve done?” Kaleen picked up the carving and held it out to her. “What about what you’ve done to yourself, Iliana? You were an artist!”

  “I was a fool,” Iliana corrected, refusing to look at the carving. “And, as I recall, I was becoming something of an embarrassment to both of you.”

  Kaleen knelt down in front of her. “Only in the way all youthful indiscretions are embarrassing to parents. Your passion, the joy you took in your talent-these things never shamed us. They were the source of our greatest pride.”

  “But that isn’t who I am anymore,” Iliana said. “Why can’t you be proud of me now?”

  “Because you’ve given up too much! And what makes it worse is that you don’t even realize what you’ve lost.”

  “I know exactly what I lost.”

  “No, Iliana, you don’t,” Kaleen said. “What happened to Ataan was tragic and beyond your control. But what followed was all your doing. You willingly gave up everything that you thought made you weak. And I weep for the day that is sure to come, when you finally realize that the qualities you abandoned are stronger than those you kept.”

  Iliana blinked. “What did you just say?” she whispered.

  Kaleen shook her head, her sadness overwhelming her. She set down the bone carving beside The Never Ending Sacrifice and rose to leave the room, touching her daughter’s chin before she departed. “I’ve said all I can, Iliana. You have to follow your heart, as always. I can only hope that someday it leads you back to who you truly are.”

  Iliana was unable to relax after that. She got up and paced the room restlessly, book and tea forgotten, finding no refuge in the techniques Entek had taught her to lower her heart rate and steady her breathing. Her occasional glances at Ascension only increased her agitation, until her only escape was to flee the room entirely. She stormed out the west door of the house, intending to lose herself in the garden. Late afternoon light greeted her. She shielded her eyes, thinking she would find a quiet spot in the shade of the estate’s north wall where she could meditate.

  “Don’t be too angry with your mother,” she heard her father say. Tekeny was sitting off to one side on the steps of the stone porch, a glass of kanar between his hands. “This is very hard on her. To tell the truth, it’s not so easy for me, either.”

  Iliana sighed and sat down next to him. “That’s what I don’t understand. I thought this is what you two always wanted for me-to honor my obligations to the State.”

  Tekeny’s lip curled upward. “It’s a little more complicated than that, I’m afraid.”

  “But why? If I’d followed in your footsteps and gone to Dekaris, then gotten a hazardous posting offworld, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Mother admitted as much. It seems the height of hypocrisy to challenge my decision to serve Cardassia through the Order.”

  Tekeny nodded, acknowledging the point. “As I said, it’s complicated.” He paused, looking down at his drink. “Do you know why your mother and I agreed to allow you to go to Pra Menkar?”

  Iliana shrugged. “Because I finally wore you down?”

  Tekeny smiled. “No. The other reason.” Iliana shook her head. “It was because we’d both come to feel as you did-that serving our world shouldn’t have to mean being contrary to oneself.”

  “Have you even considered that by joining the Order, I’m being true to myself?”

  Tekeny said nothing for a long time, until Iliana began to fear that maybe he too was disappointed in her. “May I ask you something?”

  For some reason, that simple question, so softly spoken, threatened tears. She forced them back. “You can ask me anything. You know that.”

  “Is this really what you want?”

  “It’s who I am.”

  “But is it what you want?”

  Iliana lowered her eyes. “What I want doesn’t matter. I have a duty. I shouldn’t have to explain that to a member of Central Command.”

  Tekeny laughed quietly. “You don’t. I understand duty. I’ve lived my life by it. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to realize that there are duties that don’t necessarily fit the narrow definitions espoused by the Obsidian Order, duties that are just as important…. Sometimes more so.”

  Iliana stiffened. “You should stop talking now,” she warned.

  Tekeny looked at her with a puzzled expression, perhaps wondering if she would feel obliged to report their conversation. Then comprehension dawned. “You’re concerned about their surveillance devices, aren’t you? Don’t be. Members of Central Command are entitled to some degree of privacy, unless they specifically request otherwise.”

  Iliana was growing more uncomfortable by the moment. “You shouldn’t count on that.”

  Tekeny smiled. “I don’t,” he said, and held up his glass, showing her its small, innocuous metal base.

  Iliana frowned. “Jamming device?”

  Her father inclined his head. “I don’t use it often, of course. Just when I’m really determined to keep them out.”

  “But doesn’t the very act of using it give away the fact that you know they could be listening?”

  “What can they do? Any protest would require them to admit that they flagrantly disregard the rights of Central Command members. Not a wise move, politically.”

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, Father.”

  “This is Cardassia,” Tekeny said good-naturedly. “Dangerous games are the way of things.” He held up his illicit glass to her once again, as if offering a toast, and took a sip of his kanar before he continued. “Iliana, I don’t want you to second-guess yourself, or to doubt the love your mother and I have for you. I simply wanted to know how you felt about your new life, and what’s been asked of you.” He held up a hand to stave off her protests. “I know you can’t give me specifics about your assignment. I just want to know if you’re happy.”

  She considered simply lying, to make it easier on both
of them, but she couldn’t. The nature of her work meant that there were secrets she would always need to keep from her parents, but lying to them was a line she was determined never to cross.

  Iliana reached out and took one of his hands in both of hers. “I can’t answer that. What I can tell you is that I’ve been chosen for something only I can do, something that really matters. I’m part of something now that’s bigger than me, and I need to see it through.”

  Tekeny pulled her toward him and kissed her forehead. “Then be safe,” he whispered. “And come back to us soon.”

  She spent her remaining days at home putting her affairs in order. By the sixth day she had only one last task to see to before she made her good-byes to her parents; Entek had encouraged her to record a message to herself, something that would ease her transition back to Cardassian life after her mission was over, put the time during which Iliana Ghemor would effectively cease to exist into some kind of perspective.

  It was strange to contemplate-the idea that she would be someone else for perhaps two years of her life. Strange and a little frightening, given the creature she needed to become. Her only comfort was Entek’s assurance that Kira Nerys’s memories would be extracted from her mind permanently when all this was over. Iliana would have no recollection of the things she might do while believing she was a Bajoran terrorist; no trace of the monster would be allowed to live on.

  She waited until she knew her parents had retired for the night, when she could make the recording without being overheard. Iliana set up the recorder on her vanity, inserted a fresh isolinear rod, and aimed the device at her workstation across the room. No, that won’t do. Iliana wanted familiar surroundings, but sitting behind her console would make her seem too remote; she had to connect with herself, to appear friendly and comforting. She changed from her dark suit into a light-colored dress, then pulled her thickly cushioned reading chair out to the middle of the room. Sitting in front of the recorder with her hands folded in her lap, she tried to think of what she could say to her future self that would make the readjustment easier.