4x05 Indiscretion

[8.2/10] Gul Dukat is pretty easily the best recurring Star Trek villain in my book. Most other major contenders tend to become frenemies pretty quickly (Q, Shran) or end up snarling and flat (pretty much anyone involved in the Duras family). Dukat, though, is utterly menacing, but also complicated. He is a patriot, a survivor, a cunning strategist, and a smug snake. He knows how to throw his weight around and use whatever leverage he has to get what he wants. He is an operator, speaking in veiled threats and backhanded compliments, to where his genuine intentions are often opaque but always suspicious.

But what makes him so interesting is that he’s not all bad. Or at the very least, he is comprehensible and sometimes even sympathetic in his actions and personality. He’s done terribly evil things in the past, and he’ll do terribly evil things in the future. And yet, he is also a person, with attachments and affections and vulnerabilities who feels like a well-rounded individual, not just a one-note antagonist for our heroes, even if he so often finds himself gleefully opposed to them.

That's what’s wonderful about an episode like “Indiscretion”. At its core, it’s about the idea that maybe, just maybe, the citizens of Bajor and Cardassia have turned over a new leaf. Dukat and Kira embark on an odd couple mission to recover a Cardassian prison transport that's been missing for six years. The two of them are avatars for their respective communities. Dukat waxes rhapsodic about how, whatever “minor errors” occurred during the Occupation, it was a good thing because it made the Bajoran people stronger. And Kira rightfully scoffs at this pseudo-high-minded back-pattery, rejecting the idea that they’ll ever be friends, with only slightly less skepticism about the prospects for their people to do the same.

That possibility is, nonetheless, the thrust of this story. Whatever bitterness the head of the Cardassian Occupation and a leader of the Bajoran Resistance may have for one another, they reach a certain detente and mutual understanding here, in keeping with Kira’s growing comprehension of the enemy she fought for so long. They’re bound by each having lost someone they loved in the crash of that vessel. They must work together to rescue their countrymen who survived. And in the greatest symbol of the possibility of unity, they collectively show mercy and hope for a half-Bajoran, half-Carddasian young woman, whose very existence and survival symbolizes the possibility that there might be a life for someone who represents both of their peoples.

And yet, the deepening of the Cardassians, with a civilian government and perhaps a greater tolerance for such titular “indiscretions” comes with a deepening of Dukat. He is not merely an occupier. He is not even just a partisan and father who wants to make the world a better place for his family (by his own definition of course).

He is, instead, someone who loved a Bajoran woman and lost her and mourns her to this day. He is someone who comically sits on a sand spike and nearly dies laughing while running a dermal regenerator over his own butt. He is someone who worked to extricate her from the brewing conflict and is nonetheless willing to kill the offspring of that forbidden relationship lest it ruin the life he’s built in the interim. And he is, against all odds, someone who loves his daughter, and is willing to admit he was wrong and take a chance on growing tolerance and acceptance, for someone who deserves a home, and a father.

Oh yeah, and Benjamin Sisko is afraid of romantic commitment. I’m being a little glib there. I actually like the Ben/Kassidy story here. It’s nice to see Captain Sisko get to be a bit human here, seeming overwhelmed in a social situation rather than being the knowing team dad role that many Starfleet captains fall into. But it’s a lighter, almost sitcom-y plot that feels out of place with the more serious Kira/Dukat A-story in play.

That said, I like the core of it. Kassidy’s ready to take a job running freight for the Bajorans, which would keep her in the area and maybe even give her reason to settle down on the station. Ben is worried about taking “a big step”, and his nonplussed response to the news sends Yates off in a rightful huff. Everyone from Dax to Bashir to Jake nudges him about it and urges him to save the relationship. Again, the plot feels a little like something out of Full House, but all of the performers play it well, and there’s something a little adorable about watching Sisko stumble his way through romantic entanglements that show even the decorated commander has feet of clay in some areas.

But what I love most is the resolution. Benjamin explains his hesitation. Not only has he not been in a serious relationship since Jennifer died, but it was being close to him, in this dangerous line of work, that got her killed. Both things make him understandably nervous and reticent about getting close to someone again, and them being literally close to him. Kassidy, for her part, is self-possessed and grown-up enough to make her own choices regardless of Ben, something even Jake recognizes. (Kassidy’s “He must take after his mother” is an outstanding burn.) Her playful but pointed reactions show that she’s not just the object of Sisko’s affections; she’s his equal, and her willingness to accept the apology while standing her own ground show why someone as self-possessed as Ben would be a good fit for her. I dig it.

It does, however, make for an odd fit with the main plot of the episode. The premise of Kira and Dukat being forced together for a mission to recover lost loved ones is a serious, but satisfying one. It gives the two of them a chance to bounce off one another, with heaps of resentment, but also a certain electricity that cannot be denied. There’s a solid mystery to drive the hour, as both investigate the trail of the downed ship. And “Indiscretion” doles out surprising reveals about Dukat at a steady pace to keep things interesting: he had a Bajoran mistress whom he genuinely loved and weeps for; he had a daughter with her that he legitimately tried to save; and now he’s ready to kill her to protect what he has.

It’s that last part that becomes the emotional undercurrent of the episode. In a plot where Kira and Dukat seem closer to mutual acceptance, maybe even friendliness than ever, it drives a wedge between them. They debate it philosophically. Dukat claims he must do it so that his family doesn’t become ostracized. Kira roars back that he’s only doing it to protect his own position. Dukat retorts that protecting his position is protecting his family. Kira insists that she won’t let him do it regardless. For an episode founded on the idea of Kira and Dukat, and by extension Bajor and Cardassia, coming together, some principle are inviolable, and show the dueling values that suggest each may stay eternally apart. (Or not -- hello Discovery fans!)

And yet, when push comes to shove, it seems they’re more on the same page than they might think. The duo find a Breen labor camp where it appears the survivors of the crash have been impressed into service. (I think it’s the first time we see the Breen -- a treat for fans revisiting the series.) Sure enough, among their number is Ziyal, Dukat’s daughter, and it’s time to see whether he has the stomach to live up to his declaration of what he’d do if he found her.

And look, I knew what was going to happen here, and it’s still a harrowing scene. A father holds his own child at gunpoint. A daughter speaks of how she dreamed her father would come save her, how the Cardassian prisoners told her he’d sooner kill someone of mixed heritage like her, how the dream that they were wrong kept her alive, and now after six years of waiting and hoping, she’d rather die than than live in a world where her tormentors were right a moment longer. Kira rightly points out that Dukat doesn’t truly want this, or he never would have told her, knowing she’d try to stop her. And she’s right, when the moment swells, when he looks his child in the eyes, Dukat drops his weapon, he embraces her with unimaginable relief, and calls her his daughter. And god help me, I melted a little.

Maybe there’s hope that can emerge from all the misery of relations between Bajorans and Cardassians. Maybe there’s a home waiting for a child born of love in a society slowly learning to let go of jingoistic hate. Maybe there’s room for friendship and understanding between the master of misery for Bajor and one of the planet’s proudest and most virulent defenders. Maybe there’s something approaching a heart, something sympathetic, something worthy of love, even in the show’s vilest villain, a feature that raises him up as Star Trek’s best.