Cathedral

by Michael A. Martin, Andy Mangels

  The comm system resounded again with Bowers’s voice. This time, he sounded distraught. “Captain, we’ve lost the transporter lock. There’s no way we can get the away team back at the moment.”

  “Sir, if we don’t return fire, the away team won’t have a ship to come back to,” Tenmei said, her words pitched low, evidently solely for Vaughn’s consumption.

  His daughter’s comment annoyed him, but he couldn’t deny that she was right. With no way to recover the away team—at least for now—there was simply no longer any point in putting the Defiant at risk.

  Vaughn’s thoughts strayed to the four brave souls who had only moments ago leaped into the complete unknown. They had trusted him. Necessary or not, sounding the retreat now felt like a craven act of betrayal.

  But his command instincts were too deeply ingrained to make any other choice possible.

  “Withdraw into the system’s interior,” he said, his own reluctance a palpable force within his breast. “Pull back another ten million klicks sunward.”

  Tenmei didn’t hesitate. “Aye, sir.”

  “Maybe they’ll let us go,” Vaughn said as Tenmei brought the Defiant to a relative stop approximately .07 astronomical units closer to System GQ-12475’s distant, pale star. “Just like last time.”

  Merimark placed a new tactical display up on the viewer, with icons showing the Defiant’ s position, as well as those of the rest of the Nyazen blockade fleet.

  “No such luck,” she said, no humor in her tone. “I think they meant what they said about wanting us out of the system.”

  Nine of the hostiles were in hot pursuit of the Defiant, and were rapidly closing to weapons range.

  Vaughn breathed a silent curse.

  The away team members would have to be on their own for the foreseeable future. Or perhaps even longer.

  20

  His voice carried out over the crowd of faithful; even unamplified, it was strong, gentle, and almost melodious. The temple was full of worshipers at this special late-night service, and Vedek Capril was moved to see so many in attendance.

  Mixed into the crowd were dozens of Bajoran dignitaries, politicians, entertainers, and other members of the clergy. As he sermonized, Capril couldn’t help but feel some pride that he had more vedeks in his flock tonight than in almost any past service he had ever attended, much less one that he had administered.

  But Capril wasn’t so prideful to think that they had come to hear him in particular. Attendance was inordinately high because of the ceremonies tomorrow, during which Bajor would formally join the Federation. He had tailored his sermon carefully, speaking of unity and community, and of the need for peace and understanding as the Bajoran people were welcomed into the larger family of the universe.

  “Bajor is poised at a precipice, metaphorically speaking,” Capril said, “but that need not frighten her faithful. Instead, we should look out from that cliff, surveying the beauteous lands and myriad new treasures that await our exploration. The will of the Prophets has brought us to this point in our history, a time when Bajor has gained innumerable friends and allies. We must—we will—embrace the glorious future that the Prophets have laid out for us.”

  As Capril concluded his peroration, a rustle of motion among the congregation caught his eye. The worshipers were beginning to make ready to leave. Then a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, strode purposely toward Capril’s lectern. A heartbeat later, the young man had turned to face the milling worshipers. Before Capril could gather his thoughts, the man removed his earring and ceremoniously dropped it to the floor.

  “For Kira Nerys,” the young man intoned. Then he stood quietly beside the lectern, his eyes closed as though in prayer or meditation.

  Capril was beside himself with surprise, as were most of the worshipers, each of whom sat or stood about in stunned silence. But before Capril could make a move to remonstrate with the man, another supplicant, this one a middle-aged woman, stood and walked toward the lectern. Like the young man, she turned to the congregation, solemnly doffed her earring, and said, “For Kira Nerys.” Her voice was aimed for the back of the temple. Like the young man beside whom she stood, the woman immediately lapsed into silence. Now a third supplicant, a young woman, stood and repeated the behavior of the first two.

  Ohalavaru, Capril thought. He was rapidly growing irritated, though it occurred to him that these people could have caused far more disruption had they not waited until the close of temple services to undertake their little demonstration.

  But this was still unacceptable behavior within the hallowed walls of a Bajoran shrine.

  “For Kira Nerys.” Yet another Bajoran rose to remove an earring, and stood beside the growing cluster of Ohalavaru. Two more. Then another. “For Kira Nerys.” Several more people joined the group.

  Voices were rising in consternation throughout the chamber. Looking out across the congregation of perhaps sixty or so lay people and vedeks, Capril saw that he was far from alone in his vexation.

  “For Kira Nerys.” This time it was a woman, barely old enough to have completed her schooling. Her robes were brightly colored, trimmed with various brocades from over a dozen Bajoran regions. Like the others beside her, she stood still—passive, yet at the same time resolute.

  Capril shot a worried look at several of the other vedeks. He was grateful to see a scowling Vedek Sinchante muttering something to one of the ranjens near the back of the shrine, who quickly scurried out of the temple. I hope she’s sent them to summon security. Struggling to master his own rising anger, Capril waved his hands outward, as if to sweep all disruptive influences to the edges of the temple.

  Three more Ohalavaru joined their fellows, making more than a dozen. “For Kira Nerys.” Capril saw that one of these, a pale, dark-haired woman, held a gray-skinned, half-Cardassian baby. The woman looked somehow familiar.

  Before he could speak again, the mother’s voice rang out across the temple, echoing over the heads of the congregation. “We are the Ohalavaru, and we do this in the name of Kira Nerys, the Truthgiver.” Like her fellows, she removed her earring and dropped it to the floor.

  A Bajoran man, his scowl articulating his disdain for the Ohalavaru, stood and pushed one of the Ohalavaru women away from Capril’s lectern, toward the door. She nearly fell, then recovered her footing, clearly determined not to be moved. Several of the angrier worshipers were beginning to insist—loudly—that the Ohalavaru leave the shrine. And a handful of these had made it plain that they would take the matter into their own hands should the heretics refuse to go voluntarily.

  Since the end of the Occupation, Capril had had nothing to do with violence of any kind. I must gain control over this situation, he thought, knowing that a general melee could erupt at any moment. While the heretics were clearly outnumbered, violence of any sort in the temple was unthinkable, regardless of the provocation; if it were to occur now, it could also generate sympathy for the Ohalavaru. Though Capril knew that something decisive had to be done, his feet seemed to have become rooted to the floor.

  Desperate, Capril shouted over the rising tumult. His voice reverberated loudly from the vaulted temple ceilings. “Children of the Prophets! Violence here will solve nothing! Turn your passions toward the Prophets, not toward these intruders!”

  Capril saw First Minister Shakaar and Second Minister Asarem in the back of the hall, gesturing to several security officers. To his discomfort, he realized that one of the incoming officers was Ro Laren, the woman who purposely wore her earring on the wrong ear, in the manner of the now thankfully extinct Pah-wraith cult. He wondered momentarily whose side she would take as she and her deputies dispersed through the increasingly agitated crowd.

  Ro and Sergeant Etana were having quick cups of raktajino near the front door of Quark’s when Ro’s combadge chimed, followed a second later by the voice of Corporal Hava. “All available officers, report to the shrine. It sounds like there’s a confrontation of some sort brewing there.”

/>   In the shrine?

  Ro got up so quickly that the raktajino spilled on her hand and onto the table. She shot a quick guilty glance toward one of the dabo girls who had heard Hava’s message. Shaking the scalding liquid from her right hand, Ro slapped her combadge with her left. “Ro here. Etana and I are on the way. What’s going on?”

  Of course, by the time Hava’s voice filtered back, explaining that temple service was being disrupted, Ro and Etana were already approaching the shrine’s entrance, and sounds of the tumult within were already becoming audible. Several Bajorans and non-Bajorans had already begun crowding toward the door.

  As a squad of six other officers joined Ro and Etana, First Minister Shakaar and Second Minister Asarem and their entourage approached them from just inside the temple. Ro could hear shouting inside, and thought she heard Kira’s name being spoken.

  “What’s the problem, Minister?” Ro asked.

  “The renegade followers of Ohalu are treating us to a little demonstration,” Asarem said, her voice trembling with anger. “At the behest of your commanding officer, evidently.”

  Before Ro could ask Asarem to explain her puzzling comment, Shakaar spoke up, pointing into the sanctuary. “I want those people arrested. Drag them out of here and make an example of them.” Although his words were harsh, Ro didn’t sense the same roiling passion behind them that she observed in Asarem and several of the ranjens who stood nearby.

  “If we arrest them within the temple, there could be violence, Minister,” Ro said. “And you also run the risk of turning them into political heroes.”

  “Of course you would argue that,” said Vedek Bellis, his jowls wobbling angrily as he pushed his way toward them through those assembled nearby. “You’re hardly fit to deal with a crisis in our temple.”

  Ro glanced quickly at Etana, her eyes narrowing. During her days with the Maquis, Ro might have dropped the obnoxious vedek with a knee to the groin. But she was well aware that tactics of a very different sort were necessary here. Etana rolled her eyes, clearly trying to mask her disgust at the vedek’s sentiments.

  Ro turned to the assembled deputies, who now numbered over a dozen. “First, let’s make sure nobody gets hurt. Escort the protesters out in the most expedient manner possible, and order them to disperse. If they refuse, take them to holding cells so I can explain station regs to them. And don’t forget that you’re in a holy place.” That last comment, though spoken to her deputies, was intended as a backhanded jab at the still-huffing Bellis.

  Ensign Jimenez trailed Ro as she made her way up the center aisle. Several of the assembled worshipers moved aside, allowing them to reach the group of Ohalavaru, all of whom had linked arms. They were apparently meditating or praying, their eyes closed as though maintaining some sort of vigil. Ro placed her hand gently on the back of the nearest protester, a middle-aged woman.

  “Ma’am, please come with me,” Ro said loudly, so she could be heard over the angry shouts of the crowd. She ignored her, prompting Ro to try again, more firmly. “Ma’am, you are committing a crime by willfully disturbing this shrine. I must ask you to leave now, or we will be forced to remove you.”

  The woman continued to behave as though Ro weren’t even there. Ro glanced at Jimenez, who had maneuvered himself to the woman’s opposite side. His hand was on his phaser, and he looked to Ro for a nod. She wasn’t ready to give it; at least, not yet. Ro looked around the room and saw that the situation was the same with most of the other deputies. None of the Ohalavaru would leave voluntarily, or even acknowledge the presence of the officers. The mood of the congregation, which obviously interpreted the Ohalavaru’s actions as disrespectful, was growing increasingly ugly. Several of the worshipers were beginning to raise their voices, demanding that the Ohalavaru leave. Vedek Capril merely glowered at them from behind the lectern.

  The protesters clearly had no intention of moving anytime soon. Damn, Ro thought. The last thing she wanted to do was get rough with these people. Particularly inside a place that so many Bajorans—if not Ro herself—considered hallowed ground.

  Ro raised her voice again, inflecting it with military steel. “Those of you who are disturbing this shrine must leave now. You are committing a criminal act, and if you do not leave voluntarily, we will take you into custody. Please, gather up your earrings and walk out of the temple. This has been your final warning.”

  Her words did indeed produce a reaction, but only among the regular worshipers, many of whom seemed to be calming down. Some of the faithful appeared content to allow Ro and her people to handle matters, while others continued shouting their demands that the Ohalavaru depart.

  Ro sighed. The protesters had left her only one option. “You leave us no choice but to take you into custody. Deputies?” Ro nodded to the ocher-uniformed men and women who began reaching toward the protesters.

  But as each officer laid hands on his respective Bajoran sectarian, the Ohalavaru abruptly began chanting. “For Kira Nerys, the Truthgiver,” they said as one, though none of them offered any resistance to the deputies who restrained them. “For Kira Nerys, the Truthgiver.”

  “That’s enough!”

  Ro recognized the voice instantly, though she had never before heard it raised to such a stentorian volume. She turned toward the speaker, who stood silhouetted in the shrine’s Promenade doorway.

  Kira Nerys. Being Attainted, the colonel was obviously taking great care not to cross the shrine’s threshold.

  “That’s enough,” Kira repeated, once it became clear that she had succeeded in gaining the attention of everyone in the room. The chanting had stopped. “You Ohalavaru have made your point. I’m asking you to exit the shrine now with our security staff. I ask that you all move in a quiet and orderly fashion.”

  Several of the Ohalavaru looked toward a dark-haired woman who held a squirming toddler in her arms. The woman nodded her assent, and the Ohalavaru responded by scooping up their earrings and filing toward the exit. Unbidden, the security officers followed, keeping a safe distance from the protesters, but staying close enough to protect them should any of the frustrated orthodox Bajorans follow and lash out.

  As each of the Ohalavaru passed Kira, Shakaar, and Asarem, they reached out to touch the colonel—no doubt to thank her for exposing them to Ohalu’s prophecies—but she remained impassive, neither acknowledging nor flinching from them. Ro also saw that Kira still had not set a foot within the boundaries of the shrine. She’s still obeying those pompous-ass vedeks who Attainted her.

  Ro turned and in a low voice apologized to Vedek Capril for the intrusion. He brusquely accepted her words, then glared across the room toward Kira. Ro knew that Capril had been on pleasant terms with Nerys in the past; had her Attainder changed that, or had the Ohalavaru demonstration merely rattled him?

  Following the last of her officers out of the shrine, Ro strode over to First Minister Shakaar. “I’ll leave a detachment of guards posted nearby in case of any further disturbances, Minister,” she said.

  He nodded, one eyebrow cocked as he watched the officers herding the Ohalavaru through the Promenade toward the security office and the adjacent holding cells. “I hope that this will be the only trouble they’ll make here in the coming days.”

  “Perhaps if they weren’t aboard the same station as their leader,” said Vedek Bellis, his baleful gaze cast upon Kira.

  “I don’t believe that Colonel Kira has either endorsed or allied herself with the Ohalavaru, Vedek Bellis,” Shakaar said. He put a hand on the rotund man’s shoulder, half turning him back toward the temple interior, and beckoned to Asarem. “Come, let’s renew our devotion to the Prophets and Their Word.”

  Ro couldn’t help but wonder if Shakaar had just gone out of his way to remind Kira that she wasn’t permitted inside.

  Asarem nodded almost imperceptibly. Apparently avoiding eye contact with either Kira or Ro, she turned back toward the temple to join Shakaar and Bellis. Ro saw Kira hesitate for a moment, then spin on her he
el and walk briskly away from the shrine entrance. Ro could see that Kira’s jaw was clenched so tightly that she could have bitten through hull metal without any trouble.

  Deputy Etana approached Ro with a padd. “All sixteen of the Ohalavaru have been taken into custody, Lieutenant. We kept the mother and her child together. They’re all cooperating fully with us. From the way they’re acting now, you’d never guess they did anything wrong.”

  “In their minds, they didn’t,” Ro said, looking over the names on the padd. More information was being added remotely, from the officers working at the security office, and it continuously scrolled onto the tiny display. None of the names belonged to known felons, though one of them seemed familiar: Cerin Mika. Pointing to the name, she gave the padd back to Etana. “Pull any files we have on all of these people, but I want you to pay particular attention to hers. Then send them on their way unless their files give us any further reason to hold them.”

  Catching the attention of the nearby Sergeant Shul, Ro pointed back to the shrine. “Shul, I want you and three others to take the first shift watching the temple. Tomorrow is going to be complicated enough without more surprises around here.”

  After Shul acknowledged her order and peeled away, Ro turned back to Etana and put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I need to go and…brief the colonel on a few things, Kol,” she said, using Etana’s familiar name. “You’re in charge here.” Ro looked at her chronometer and saw that one day had segued into the next just ten minutes ago. She sighed profusely. “Not a very auspicious beginning for this eve of peace, is it?”

  Etana smiled warmly and patted Ro’s hand. “We’ll get through it, Laren. Go take care of the colonel.”

  I’ve got to tell her, Ro thought as she approached the sliding doors to Kira’s office. As the doors whisked open, she saw Kira sitting with most of the illumination off, the distant stars shining brilliantly through the office window. Kira appeared to be meditating, or perhaps praying. Good for her. The damned vedeks can’t do anything about that.