Terok Nor_ Day Of The Vipers Part 6

Jas rubbed his thin beard. "Admittedly, swifter starships would be of use to us. Our settlements on Golana, Valo, and Prophet's Landing would benefit. It would bring them closer to us."

Verin sniffed with contempt. "The people on those worlds chose to leave the safety of the homeworld, Minister. If they have put themselves at a great distance from Bajor, then that is a matter for them. They should not be coddled."

Jas said nothing; Verin's platform among the Council of Ministers had always been an isolationist one, and he had never made a secret of his disdain for Bajor's colonial efforts.

"You are proud of your world, and rightly so," allowed Ico. "Would you not consider the merit of giving your planet greater security?"

"Bajor has made no enemies," Verin retorted. "We are not an expansionist people. We keep to our own borders, unlike other species."

Unbidden, Jas's hands tightened into fists. He thought of his scoutship, of all his vessels out in the void. Better technology might have saved the crew of the Eleda Eleda from their ignominious deaths in deep s.p.a.ce. from their ignominious deaths in deep s.p.a.ce.

Kell looked across the table at the First Minister, ignoring the old man's thinly veiled insult. "And yet, one need only examine a starchart to see that your sector lies between the frontiers of a handful of alien powers." He waved a hand at the air, as if he were taking in the s.p.a.ce all around them. "The Breen Confederation. The Tzenkethi Coalition. The Federation. Even the Tholians or the Talarians might find their way here." Kell smiled coldly. "None of them would be as good a friend to Bajor as Carda.s.sia."

Ico nodded. "It is well known that the Federation has designs on expansion into this area of s.p.a.ce." She looked to Hadlo for agreement. "I doubt that if they came to Bajor they would do it out of respect for the souls of your dead."

The cleric hesitated. "The United Federation of Planets is a largely secular nation," he said finally, with distaste.

"We are aware of that," Verin bristled. "We have no dealings with them." A grimace formed on his lips. "They...do not approve of our societal structure. They consider our D'jarra D'jarras to be an impediment to our progress."

"Your caste system," said Ico. "How like the humans to be so judgmental. It is clear to me that your culture functions perfectly well in a stratified arrangement. Carda.s.sia would never be so bold as to think we could tell you how to run your world."

Kell's lips drew back into a smile. "We believe in the partnership of equals." He met Jas's gaze. "Is that not the basis of all strong friendships?"

Jas nodded slowly, the image of the Eleda Eleda's shattered hull rising to the surface of his thoughts.

Verin took a careful sip of springwine. "All of Bajor respects what you have done for our citizens," he said levelly, "and you have our grat.i.tude. But your overtures will find little purchase here. If that is truly why you have come to our world, then your journey has been wasted."

The rest of the meal continued with awkward small talk and there came a moment when Dukat felt as if he had eaten his fill: not because he had no more room in his stomach, but because after a while the richness of the Bajoran food had soured on his tongue. Gla.s.ses of Kubus's springwine did nothing to wash away the cloying taste, and as the meal slowly drew to a close he found it progressively more demanding to stay in the same room as Kell and the others, watching them chatter and go around in circular conversation. Picking his moment, he excused himself and stepped out of the hall. On their way in, as they had walked the keep's corridors, Dukat had noticed an arched door opening onto a wide stone balcony, and he strode over to it.

Night had fallen across the planet while the feast had progressed, and the sky was dotted with low, thin clouds. Unfamiliar constellations looked down on Dukat as he wandered to the edge of the battlements. As if it were a reflection of the heavens above, the city spread out below the keep was a mixture of dusky patches of parkland and munic.i.p.al districts glittering with lanterns. He raised a questioning eyeridge as he spotted faint plumes of smoke issuing up from the streets. His first reaction was to wonder if there was some sort of discord in progress, that those were fires set by malcontents; but he heard no sounds of gunfire, nothing that could be considered violence. On a breath of wind came the faint noises of music and revelers, and his lip twisted. More feasting and carousing? Is that all these aliens do? More feasting and carousing? Is that all these aliens do?

The wind brought scents with it as well, and Dukat sniffed at the air like a hunting dog. He detected a pleasant, slightly resinous odor.

"Bateret leaves," said a voice. "We burn them. It's a leaves," said a voice. "We burn them. It's a Peldor Peldor Festival tradition." Festival tradition."

Dukat turned to see a Bajoran man standing in an open-topped stone cupola some short distance down the length of the ramparts. A soldier? A soldier? The Carda.s.sian read the man's manner instantly from the way he stood, the wary edge in his voice. The Bajoran turned toward him hesitantly, as if he were uncertain it was permissible for him to speak to Dukat. The dalin saw a simple chain glitter on the man's ear, and he took in the ochre-colored uniform, the holstered gun at his hip. He noted how the Bajoran's hands never went anywhere near the pistol. The Carda.s.sian read the man's manner instantly from the way he stood, the wary edge in his voice. The Bajoran turned toward him hesitantly, as if he were uncertain it was permissible for him to speak to Dukat. The dalin saw a simple chain glitter on the man's ear, and he took in the ochre-colored uniform, the holstered gun at his hip. He noted how the Bajoran's hands never went anywhere near the pistol. Not a soldier then, perhaps. But certainly one used to dealing with unknown threats. Not a soldier then, perhaps. But certainly one used to dealing with unknown threats. The corners of Dukat's mouth drew up in satisfaction at the thought of being considered in such a way. "You are holding a festival in our honor?" The corners of Dukat's mouth drew up in satisfaction at the thought of being considered in such a way. "You are holding a festival in our honor?"

A brief flash of amus.e.m.e.nt crossed the Bajoran's face. "Uh, no. I'm afraid not. You just timed your arrival to coincide with one of our annual celebrations." He nodded toward the city. "The Grat.i.tude Festival. We ask the Prophets to help us with our troubles and watch over us in the coming year." He sighed. "It'll be over by tomorrow." The Bajoran paused. He was clearly finding the situation awkward.

Dukat elected to say nothing; until this moment, every alien he had met on this planet had been a politician or a priest. He found himself wondering about the men who served below them, the workers and the warriors like this one. Like me. Like me.

"Do you have celebrations like this on your world?"

Dukat looked back at the city. "Some. On Union Day, all of Carda.s.sia unites in honor of the formation of our society. We mark the anniversaries of the deaths of our ancestors, the births of our children and...and their namings." His throat tightened a little on the last few words, and he frowned at himself.

The Bajoran heard the catch in his voice. "I have children. A boy, Bajin, and a girl, Nell."

For a brief instant, Dukat considered turning around and leaving; instead he found himself answering. "I have a son," he replied. "He has yet to be named."

"A newborn?"

Dukat shook his head. "He is a few months old. I have been on detached duty and unable to return home to join his mother for the ceremony. Both parents must be present for the naming to be formally recognized by the state."

"But you have chosen a name already?" The Bajoran came closer.

Dukat nodded. "Procal, after my father. I fear my wife may have other ideas, however." He felt the weight of the holograph rod in his wrist pocket, and the pictures came to the front of his thoughts once again. His saw his family, out there in Lakat, waiting for the supplies to arrive. And here he was, only a few feet away from a room br.i.m.m.i.n.g with food he could not give them. The greasy aftertaste of a Bajoran meat dish he had eaten came up at the back of his throat and his hands gripped the stone lip of the battlements.

"I'm Darrah Mace," said the other man.

"Skrain Dukat."

Darrah accepted this with a nod. "You're military."

"As you are."

"Not exactly." Darrah frowned. "I'm a Militia officer, but not a line soldier. I'm a law enforcer, part of Korto's City Guard." The Bajoran followed Dukat's gaze out over the conurbation. "I imagine the demands of our duties are similar, though. Sometimes, family has to be served second."

Dukat shot a look at the man, and he was ready to censure Darrah for his forwardness. The urge dissolved as quickly as it had come upon him. Careful, Dukat, Careful, Dukat, he told himself. he told himself. Do not reveal too much to these aliens. Do not reveal too much to these aliens. For all he knew, this chance meeting might have been engineered deliberately by Verin and the others to take the measure of the Carda.s.sians. For all he knew, this chance meeting might have been engineered deliberately by Verin and the others to take the measure of the Carda.s.sians. And if they are anything like us, this man will report every word we have shared to his superior officer the moment I leave. And if they are anything like us, this man will report every word we have shared to his superior officer the moment I leave. The furrows on his brow deepened. He was allowing the matter of the naming ceremony, of his concerns for the welfare of Athra and his son, to play on his mind. The resentment was there again, and some of it fell at the feet of Kell. The gul knew Dukat's circ.u.mstances, and he had denied the dalin's request for a temporary leave of absence prior to the Bajor mission. The furrows on his brow deepened. He was allowing the matter of the naming ceremony, of his concerns for the welfare of Athra and his son, to play on his mind. The resentment was there again, and some of it fell at the feet of Kell. The gul knew Dukat's circ.u.mstances, and he had denied the dalin's request for a temporary leave of absence prior to the Bajor mission.

The Bajoran didn't seem to notice the turmoil behind Dukat's eyes. "We all have our responsibilities," he said, and Dukat detected an air of resignation in the other man's manner.

He was still forming a reply when a figure stepped out onto the balcony behind him. "Skrain. There you are." Kotan Pa'Dar approached him. "Minister Jas has provided us with guest quarters for the night in the keep's east tower. Professor Ico felt it would be best if we accept. A refusal might offend the-" He caught sight of Darrah and hesitated. "Our hosts."

"Of course." Dukat gave the Bajoran a nod. "Perhaps we will speak again?"

"Maybe so," offered Darrah.

Pa'Dar spoke quietly as they walked away. "What was that about? You were talking with the alien?"

"It was nothing," said Dukat, with a finality that silenced the scientist.

5.

There was something about a library that instilled a sense of reverence in Gar Osen. Just as he would have on entering a temple of the Prophets, or one of the great halls in the monastery, his voice fell into soft, respectful tones. Before he accepted the calling of the Prophets, he had grown up in a house filled with books-his mother was a minor playwright-and Osen had understood from an early age that books were a doorway to other worlds, to the past or to schools of thought that were vastly different from his own. He had never lost the veneration that being in such surroundings brought upon him. It was second only to the satisfaction he felt in the temple, when he spoke with the Prophets.

Even now, late at night with the light of the floater-globes hovering in the galleries at their lowest setting, the chamber was still impressive. The Naghai Keep's library was one of the finest private collections on Bajor, with works that the Jas clan had gathered from across the planet since the era of the First Republic. Gar had seen the deep vaults beneath the library proper where they now walked, where stasis field pods kept doc.u.ments that were millennia old safe from the ravages of time. Admittedly, the keep's current master, Jas Holza, did not have the same sense of respect for the library as his father had shown, but the minister was savvy enough to know that it was a treasure. Still, there had been times when Kai Meressa and Vedek Cotor had applied gentle pressure to ensure that the minister kept hold of certain works instead of selling them to collectors in other provinces.

At his side, the kai gestured upward to point out the three levels of the collection's stacks. "It's hard to imagine, but this library began in ancient times as a simple compilation of agricultural charts and works of botany." Cotor was nodding in agreement, and behind them the two Carda.s.sian clerics, Hadlo and Bennek, walked slowly, tipping back their heads to take in the scope of the place. "It houses works of all kinds, from fiction through to sciences, religious works, historical doc.u.ments. An original copy of Shabren's Prophecies resides here, and it is said that in this very room the treaty of the Nine Tribes was first drawn up, ushering in the age of the Third Republic..." Meressa drew her hands together. "Forgive me. History is a pa.s.sion of mine."

"A most impressive collection," offered Hadlo. "You spoke of religious works here? Is that typical of your world, that they would be part of a clan's personal holdings? Doesn't your church keep important books itself?"

Cotor shook his head. "You misunderstand, Hadlo. The Naghai library is commodious, of that there is no doubt, but it is not primarily a store of holy works." The vedek's head bobbed in agreement with his own words. "The monastery at Kendra, some distance to the south, is Bajor's greatest repository of devotional literature."

Meressa smiled, her face lit with amus.e.m.e.nt. "Ah, I think the monks at Kiessa might take umbrage at that statement. They like to think that they lay claim to that status." She halted at a hexagonal table in the middle of the chamber. Lined in wood and cut from local red stone, the broad desk presented a reading screen and an ornate crystal keyboard. "This device is a stand-alone database of all known writings, protected and preserved. As Minister Jas has often bragged, if you cannot find what you wish to read in its written incarnation, you will likely find it in a virtual one stored here." She patted the table. "But, as Vedek Cotor notes, we believe it is important that we preserve as much of our written culture as we can in its original form."

Bennek nodded. "The Oralian Way shares that sentiment, Your Eminence. If no substance of a faith remains, then it may become like smoke on the wind."

Hadlo frowned briefly at the younger cleric's words before continuing. "Forgive my companion if he speaks with more drama than is necessary. Esteemed Kai, I would very much like to hear more about the Kendra monastery, and of the tenets of your faith." He paused. "During the meal, I heard the young prylar speaking of a pagh. pagh. You used that word during the ceremony for the lost in the courtyard..." You used that word during the ceremony for the lost in the courtyard..."

Meressa glanced at Gar. "Osen? Why don't you explain the term to our visitors?"

Gar swallowed hard; he hadn't been expecting to take a direct part in any of the discussions. "Of course, Eminence." He cleared his throat and touched a hand to his ear, where his D'jarra D'jarra signet dangled. "The signet dangled. "The pagh pagh is the name we give to the elemental life force of all living things. It is the ephemeral energy of the soul, the source from which we draw our strength and our courage. Our will to live, if you like." is the name we give to the elemental life force of all living things. It is the ephemeral energy of the soul, the source from which we draw our strength and our courage. Our will to live, if you like."

"Your spirit, then," said Bennek.

"Correct. In our faith, we conceive the pagh pagh as a flame, a candle that is set burning by the Prophets in the Celestial Temple at the moment of our birth. At times of great hardship that flame may burn low, it may even be snuffed out if death claims us unexpectedly. But we believe that through our faith in the Prophets, they sustain us, replenishing our as a flame, a candle that is set burning by the Prophets in the Celestial Temple at the moment of our birth. At times of great hardship that flame may burn low, it may even be snuffed out if death claims us unexpectedly. But we believe that through our faith in the Prophets, they sustain us, replenishing our pagh pagh through their love." He touched his bare left ear. "The light of that energy blooms through our flesh here." through their love." He touched his bare left ear. "The light of that energy blooms through our flesh here."

"Fascinating," said the Carda.s.sian. He raised his hands to his face. "In the patterns of the Way, we see the blessings of Oralius in a similar fashion. Her eternal strength flows through us and keeps us strong. We don masks to symbolize our union with her, and the energies that animate us...like your pagh." pagh."

Hadlo nodded sagely. "And like all things, it can turn to light or to darkness. It is the duty of the Oralian Way to show our people the road into the light." Gar saw a new understanding bloom on the alien's face. "Kai Meressa, it is our belief that Oralius plots a path for every one of us, for a greater fate than we may know. At this moment, I feel as if I am on the verge of a revelation!" The old man's voice rose. "Yes. This journey here to Bajor, our meeting. It is her will."

Cotor smiled. "Then perhaps too it is the will of the Prophets that we are here to greet you, Hadlo."

The elder cleric's eyes glittered. "This simple moment...five souls in a chamber steeped in history...My friends, dare we think on the import of such a thing?" He stepped forward and touched Meressa on the arm, and she returned the gesture. "We reach out and find kindred spirits among those not of our world. What does this tell us?"

Gar's mouth went dry; it was difficult not to be caught up by the quiet potency of the Carda.s.sian's words. He understood at once how the old man had risen to such high office in his faith-there was a way about Hadlo, a sagacious, metered pa.s.sion that made one want to listen to his words.

The kai showed the same enthusiasm. "It tells us that barriers of species and distance cannot deny the simple truths of existence."

"Yes! Yes!" Hadlo's face split in a grin. "My friends, we share the same path! We can learn so much from one another. The Way of Oralius, the road of your Prophets...What if they are intertwined?"

Gar glanced at Bennek. The younger Carda.s.sian was muted, his face the mirror of Osen's. It was hard to know what to make of the conversation unfolding before them. Both the priests were wary, and yet they were both daring to hope that Hadlo could be correct. To find aliens who shared a belief system that echoed their own-the theological implications were simply staggering.

Meressa nodded. "Hadlo, you must come to the monastery at Kendra. I will see to it, and there you shall put this question to the Prophets themselves."

Shock unfolded on Vedek Cotor's face. "Eminence! You are not suggesting that-"

She cut him off with a look, and Gar realized what she was about to suggest. He too wanted to protest, but words failed him. The prylar hesitated, trying to find a way to frame his objection, and found none.

"If your Way truly does parallel the path of the Prophets, then there is a manner in which we can be sure. At the monastery we hold in honor a most sacred artifact, one of many that the Celestial Temple has seen fit to grant us over the centuries." At Hadlo's quizzical look she indicated an image cut into a stained-gla.s.s window at the far end of the chamber. "A Tear of the Prophets. A sacred Orb sent by them to guide us in our lives."

The Carda.s.sians looked up to see the hourgla.s.s shape set amid an image that showed the Celestial Temple opening in the heavens and the Tear falling toward Bajor, toward the open hands of a man in the robes of a vedek. Gar felt a peculiar tingle in his chest at the thought of laying eyes on the real thing. The Tears were the physical manifestation of the Prophets, and to be in the presence of one was to touch the aura of G.o.ds.

"Eminence," said Cotor, "you know as well as I that any encounter must be deliberated and ratified by the Vedek a.s.sembly! With all due respect to Hadlo, I think they may be reluctant to allow an alien to enter the presence of the Orb of Truth!"

The kai glanced at him. "And will our visitors be content to remain for months while your fellow vedeks debate the matter over and over?" She shook her head. "No, Cotor. I exercise my right as Kai and I say this will happen." The priestess spread her hands. "Hadlo is correct. Throughout the feast and through the night we have talked and seen the congruence between our faiths. I am not content to have it come to an end there, not when a chance to know the absolute truth is in our power." She touched the old cleric's arm. "I will see to this. Through the Tear, the Prophets will turn their gaze upon you and know you. The truth will be revealed."

Hadlo returned the gesture. "Thank you...my sister."

Bennek felt giddy and off balance. After the Bajorans left them in the keep's sumptuous guest lodgings, he found he had to sit upon one of the wide loungers in the atrium between the chambers shared by the Oralians. Hadlo returned from speaking to the other members of their party and came to sit with him.

"Have...have you informed Gul Kell of the Kai's invitation?" Bennek asked.

Hadlo shook his head. "I will speak to him tomorrow. I will notify him we will not be returning to the Kornaire Kornaire on the shuttle." on the shuttle."

"This 'orb' the Bajorans spoke of..."

"Kell is faithless. He is a nonbeliever and he would not understand. I will simply tell him that the Bajorans have asked us to make a pilgrimage to the Kendra monastery, nothing more. That is not a lie."

"It is not the whole truth, either," Bennek insisted. "Master, I am uncertain about the swiftness with which this is progressing. Yes, I hoped, as we all did, that we might find some common ground with the Bajorans, but I hear you talk as if our faiths are like lost twins, and it..."

"It frightens you?" asked the old man softly.

"Yes."

Hadlo nodded. "That is a natural reaction, my friend. Great moments of change always carry with them the fear of the unknown." He gave Bennek's shoulder a pat. "Have faith in Oralius. She watches over us. She has given us this chance for deliverance."

The cleric's words deepened Bennek's confusion. "Deliverance from what?"

The old man's voice fell into a hush. "Bennek, you know that I see you as my successor. You alone have the will and the strength of spirit to take the Way forward despite all the hardships we endure. In the face of the hatred and aversion from our fellow Carda.s.sians, you have remained strong, true to Oralius even as those fools in the Detapa Council and the military have fought to expunge us." He squeezed Bennek's shoulder, taking on a fatherly tone. "I need your support."

"You have it," Bennek replied immediately. "Never feel you need to question that."

Hadlo smiled. "I know. And for that, I will clear the mist from your eyes, my young friend. I will tell you what I have not said to the other clerics who came with us from the homeworld." He looked around the chamber. "These Bajorans...They are a gift to us, a blessing from Oralius herself. She has seen that our faith is slowly being eroded from the Carda.s.sian soul, and she knows that we are living on borrowed time."

Bennek nodded ruefully. The purges and the arrests back home were getting worse as the months went by. More and more branches of the Oralian Way were being forcibly closed under the weakest of pretexts created by the Detapa Council or Central Command, laws were being enacted that made it difficult for church members to find employment or sustenance, and nothing the followers of the Way did had any impact. The future of their faith hung by a thread, and that was why they had been so desperate to take part in the Bajor mission, as a last attempt to show the legitimacy of their church as a valid part of Carda.s.sian culture.

"Meressa spoke of truth," continued Hadlo, "so let me do the same. The truth is, Central Command has been looking to the Bajor sector with ambition for some time, but they lack the diplomatic prowess to reach these people. But we, Bennek, we do not. We are the common link between Bajor and Carda.s.sia, because we have our faith."

"What are you saying?"

Hadlo smiled thinly. "You saw Kell and Ico as they attempted to pour honey in the ears of the First Minister and the others, and found only distrust. The Bajorans look at them and see aliens, soldiers! Their first reaction is to suspect them! But we are different!" He tapped his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his robes. "The Bajorans look at us and see kindred spirits. A sister faith. We have a bond that transcends everything else. While Kell's clumsy overtures were rebuffed, the seeds of friendship we planted tonight fell on fertile ground! We will make ourselves requisite to any future alliance between Carda.s.sia and Bajor, because that relationship will have to be built upon a foundation of faith." faith."

Despite the warmth of the chamber, Bennek's skin p.r.i.c.kled with a chill. He saw it just as Hadlo described. The Detapa Council and the Central Command needed the Oralians to facilitate this mission, and if that was so, then the Way had suddenly been granted leverage against those who would see it destroyed.

The old cleric saw the light of understanding in his expression. "We cannot preserve the other branches of our faith, but this chance that Oralius has granted us means we may protect our own ministry. We can ensure that the Way will survive. We can preserve it, stop Carda.s.sia from turning into a secular, faithless wasteland!" His eyes flashed. "Do you understand the magnitude of this, Bennek? We may be the very last chance to save our credo from oblivion!"

Bennek was silent for a moment. "What about the Bajorans?" he asked finally. "What part will they play in this?"

Hadlo frowned. "This is about us, not them. What I told the kai was not a lie. I do believe that Oralius and the Prophets may be two facets of the same great truth."

A bleak thought occurred to the young priest. "The men who perished aboard that ship, the Eleda. Eleda. Was that really a misadventure?" He thought of the wreckage in the Was that really a misadventure?" He thought of the wreckage in the Kornaire Kornaire's cargo bay and of the words he had said over the bodies of the dead in the name of Oralius. "Were the dead only a pretext to bring us to Bajor?"

The cleric's face darkened. "Bennek, listen to me and understand." He leaned closer. "We are on the edge of annihilation. If we do not take steps now, the Oralian Way will be eradicated and Carda.s.sia will be doomed to a future of hatred and destruction, a path that will lead only to ashes and blood. We must do whatever is necessary to preserve the Way."