Two Vorta lovers return to each other after a long separation. One of them had feared the other had been killed in the war. But here they both were safe, and sound, and alive. They embraced–it was a heartwarming Weyounion.
One thing I’m enamored with is the pervasive sense that these races are tragedies. The Jem’Hadar and, to a lesser extent, the Vorta, aren’t treated in the usual manner enemy alien races are. They’re literally engineered to be killing machines, but they’re shown as multi-faceted and with cultures of their own, not just as mindless drones there to provide a threat and be killed. They are races of sycophantic, treacherous bureaucrats and warriors of extreme ruthlessness, but in both cases we are shown just how ill they’ve been treated by the Founders. It’s as if they are both species of Frankensteins, clones without even the most basic genetic agency. The Jem’Hadar have literally no means of reproduction independent from the Founders, and the Vorta are all clones of themselves, expendable middle managers. Vorta are sent out to negotiate with autonomous species as a form of diplomat, getting enough experience to know just how many senses they’ve been deprived of. They can’t taste anything but what was purportedly the native forest food of their original species, a reminder of how the Founders “elevated” their race, and perhaps the poison they’re engineered to be immune to. They don’t have a sense of what’s beautiful, they can’t even see clearly, but they do have a suicide switch in their brains. The Jem’Hadar have short, brutal lives without even a chair to sit on as they fly off to their deaths.
And yet…they’ve somehow erected cultures for themselves in spite of this oppressive oversight. The Vorta have their own creation myth (one given to them by the Founders, to be sure, but one that they’ve embraced and imbued with their own meaning). The Jem’Hadar have their own rituals that make the distribution of the enzymes they need to live (and which keep them dependent on their masters) like communion. They have a code of honor that they abide by and draw meaning from, however fatalistic.
You weren’t an idiot. You knew that your crush on Weyoun was just that- a crush. A passing infatuation brought on by hormones and the romantic inclinations of youth. Nothing more than that. Not to mention that he was hardly what you would call a nice guy. He was on the opposing side of a rather nasty conflict, after all. And your interactions and been few and rather brief, probably a necessity from his point of view. You were friendly with some important people, including Odo, so Weyoun flattered you. Oh, did he flatter you, so prettily and with sincerity on every syllable of his lying tongue, and when he touched you, it was gentle, not like Dukat’s forceful grip trying to rein you to his will. You had blushed and loathed it.
So. You didn’t cry when he died.
But if you were a bit less chipper for a few days (or maybe a week) after hearing the news, no one noticed, and if they did, they did not realize the true reason.
Give me the story of the defective Vorta before the Alpha Quadrant wormhole was discovered on that side. What did that Vorta do? There was no other Founder to defect to. Did they die as they realized they had no place in the worlds, knowing they had disappointed their gods? Did that Vorta run away and get hunted by his/her replacement, a ship of ruthless Jem’Hadar secretly pleased at the chance to destroy one of their overseers?
Weyoun said it had been known to happen that a Vorta comes out defective…who and when did this happen to? What is that Vorta’s story?