2x08 Necessary Evil

[8.7/10] “Necessary Evil” starts out hinting it’ll be a straight noir episode. There’s a femme fatale, a theft of a valuable object, a mysterious attempted killing, and a gumshoe sent to untangle all of it. Throw in the conceit of Odo being forced to make security logs per Starfleet protocol, and you even have the sort of pseudo-poetic voiceover that’s the trademark of Maltese Falcon-inspired noir pastiches.

And yet, while “Necessary Evil” is definitely steeped in noir tropes, it’s something more than a simple homage: it’s a backstory episode. Beyond Odo unraveling a five-year-old murder case he was never able to solve, it tells the story of how he first became an “investigator” on DS9, how he first crossed paths with Kira, how his antipathy with Quark began. Seeing how all of these setups and relationships started helps us to appreciate how they, and Odo, have changed.

Not to mention how the station has changed! I can’t tell you what a grim thrill it is to see the station back in its Terok Nor days. All the credit in the world to the production team, who give the angular but bright confines of the promenade the dispiriting air of a work camp with their design choices. The same sets and locations truly feel like a different place, with sad faces waiting for overworked friends and parents amid harsh fences and weapon-holding guards. There’s a darkness that pervades the station, literally and figuratively, which helps show how much has changed on DS9 in a way we’ve only been told about to this point.

We see how Odo fell into this. “Necessary Evil” connects the dots between the “curiosity” and walking party trick kept by a Bajoran scientist and the respected head of security for a major space station. Gul Dukat positions Odo as an investigator for political reasons -- to distance himself from the Bajorans who were collaborating with him as the murder is uncovered. But there’s also practical reasons for it. As someone of Bajor, but not Bajoran, he’s the right mix of familiar and neutral to solve petty disputes, among their people. There’s a credibility to him, a lack of bias, which makes him both well-suited for the law enforcement role and the perfect sanitizer for Dukat.

But we also see why he’d take the job in the first place and, more to the point, why he’d be good at it. His sharp sense of justice makes him recognize the horrors and caprices of the Cardassian Occupation, and even raise them to Dukat’s face. Yet, he also recognizes the alternative version of brutal justice the Cardassians would impose without him, and so sees himself as a cushion, someone who can do right and do it fairly, even if he’s doing it on behalf of cruel occupiers.

There’s always been a nagging question at the center of DS9’s cast. Why would someone as noble and upright as Odo work for the Cardassians at all, let alone Dukat. “Necessary Evil” gives us a satisfying answer -- because he saw how his brand of law enforcement would be preferable to the arbitrary and oft-lethal Cardassian alternative.

We also see how and why he’d be good at the job. A lifetime of studying humanoids made him a keen observer of the nuances in expression and body language. He can recognize when someone supposedly distraught isn’t crying, or the shift in demeanor that indicates a lie (or so he thinks). We don’t just get the philosophical answer for why Odo became a “constable”; we see the practical roots of his talents for the job.

We also see who first gave him that unique title. It’s just as much of a thrill to see a glimpse of Kira in her Bajoran Underground days. Her edges are even sharper, and we see how easy it is for her to assess a potential threat and recognize what people see when they see her. More to the point, we see the beginning of her relationship with Odo. Most notably, he chooses not to turn her in to Gul Dukat for sabotaging the station’s mining operations, because it’s not within the purview of his investigation. It’s a convenient, legalistic self-justification, but one that shows Odo recognizes a sort of justice that doesn’t necessarily fit into his prescriptive, rule-bound worldview.

At the same time, we get to see his first interactions with Quark, and the initial source of Odo’s antipathy. Quark’s a dissembler by nature, which goes against Odo’s code to begin with. But Quark’s first instinct is also to profit off of this shape-shifter as another party trick to be paraded in front of Cardassians, something which doesn’t exactly endear him to the budding constable. Quark is recognizable here, bribing Dukat with Cardassian ale, making up lecherous stories about Kira, and trying to wheel and deal at every opportunity. Watching him thrive despite a different landlord, and inadvertently make enemies who persist to this day, is just as much of a treat.

Not for nothing, good ol’ Rom gets a nice miniature subplot here! He’s loyal to his brother, saving his life even though Quark’s death would mean him inheriting the bar. Maybe it’s just Rom’s own stupidity and natural defensiveness for the sibling whose esteem he still prizes, but there’s something endearing about the little dolt here.

But the most compelling part of his rescue is the aftermath, when Odo pieces together who the original killer was. The mechanics of the modern day blackmail and murder-for-hire isn’t as compelling. Untangling a conspiracy is necessary for the noir homage, but not necessarily particularly compelling in their own right.

What is, however, is Kira confessing to the original murder, because the victim was a Bajoran collaborator and she was after the story’s macguffin - a list of other collaborators. The start of their friendship comes from Odo effectively acquitting her, arguably saving her life, because he thought she was honest with him about being innocent of the murder charge, even if she was guilty of crimes Odo could understand and accept. Learning that she was lying to him refigures that interaction and changes their relationship.

Therein lies the truest tribute to the noir classics, though. So many of those old stories rest on a foundation of the moralistic protagonist learning that there are shades of gray, layers of dirt, ethical complicating beyond their exacting worldviews. “Necessary Evil” is about Odo reevaluating what true “justice” is in the past and in the present.

He can understand why Kira lied to him under the circumstances. She was leery to admit something so morally gray to someone working for the Cardassians. Kira even has a compelling reason for keeping it from him even when she’s no longer under such a threat -- she didn’t want it to hurt their friendship.

Something has to give. Odo trusts Kira. He believes in her. He values her more than anyone else on the station. But she also lied to him, and more to the point, proved she can lie to him. Who knows if it diminishes Odo’s admiration for her, but for someone so hidebound, so devoted to truth and righteousness, it’s a hard pill for him to swallow.

The bittersweetness of that, the realization that the people you trusted aren’t exactly what you thought they were, that the world and the morals within it are more complicated than black and white, is the heart of a good noir tale. The form of “Necessary Evil”, with its florid monologues and criminal conspiracy, isn’t what’s compelling about the hour. It’s the substance, the loss of innocence, the moral gradations that emerge from the muck of human interactions, and the distance between then and now that changes everything.