Cathedral

by Michael A. Martin, Andy Mangels

  Ever drifting down the stream

  Lingering in the golden gleam

  Life, what is it but a dream?

  The combadge on his chest began speaking, but he paid scant attention to it. Instead, he continued staring up into the infinite, exultant. Himself once again. Whole and complete. He wondered if this was how Kira had felt during her now-forbidden communions with Bajor’s enigmatic gods. The volume of the ambient quasi-music rose to an almost cacophonous level, utterly drowning out the sounds of the combadge, but Julian found he didn’t mind it at all.

  Some measureless interval later, a coruscating shaft of light enfolded him. And the cathedral splintered around him, breaking into jagged shards like the memory of a dream.

  24

  Vedek Yevir could scarcely stop himself from blurting out the truth. First Minister Shakaar and Second Minister Asarem stared at him from the Trager’ s main viewscreen. Shakaar seemed almost unable to control his anger as his words hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Have you taken complete leave of your senses, Yevir? The reconciliation talks with Cardassia are stalemated, and any maverick action on your part can only result in a great loss of standing for you among both the Vedek Assembly and the Chamber of Ministers.”

  When Shakaar paused for breath, Yevir interrupted him. “As I said, First Minister, what I will be presenting today will likely change everything. Forever and for the better. My standing with either chamber of the Bajoran Great Assembly is as nothing compared to that. Please join me on the Promenade in ten minutes.” He punched a button on the Cardassian console, and the viewscreen went blank, cutting off the tirade that was obviously coming.

  Yevir smiled to himself. It wasn’t like him to be so abrupt with Shakaar—doing so certainly wasn’t politically advantageous—but the elation that he was feeling far outweighed his concern over any potential consequences. The Prophets are indeed guiding me. They could not have sent a clearer sign.

  Immediately after contacting the other vedeks who constituted his inner circle, Yevir rose. He led the way as the group disembarked from the Trager, though Gul Macet and Cleric Ekosha trailed him by only a step or two. Several lower-level Oralian Way functionaries—rectorates—guided four small antigrav sleds through the docking ring passageway.

  Vedeks Eran, Scio, Kyli, Bellis, Frelan, and Sinchante all crowded the hall in front of him, their aides and several guards moving behind them. Yevir saw that each of his compatriots’ eyes were bright, their smiles wide. He grinned in response and gestured past them. “I assume we’ll have an audience?” he asked.

  “Most definitely, Linjarin,” Frelan said. “Word has spread throughout the station. Everyone is buzzing with anticipation of your announcement.”

  Yevir nodded and continued past the others as they parted to allow him a path through the center of the corridor. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, pleased to note that the others had fallen into procession behind the sled bearers.

  As they made their way onto the habitat ring, Yevir saw that Frelan had not exaggerated. The station was already lavishly decorated for the signing ceremony, with Bajoran flags, ornate Old Bajoran tapestries, and UFP banners all suspended from the tall ceiling. But what was most impressive were the large numbers of people crowded onto the Promenade. Representatives of dozens of races, as well as hundreds of Bajorans and humans, milled about. Yevir looked up and saw Shakaar and Asarem on the Promenade’s upper level, glaring down at him from over the railing. Nearby stood Trill Ambassador Seljin Gandres, who was chatting amiably with Bajor’s supreme magistrate, Hegel Ytrin, who looked resplendent in her dark judicial robes.

  Yevir mounted a small riser nearby, a prop intended for use during the many Bajoran cultural festivities planned for the evening’s celebrations. He couldn’t see any amplification devices, but the past few years of administering at temple had given him a more than adequately audible public-speaking voice. He reached into the pocket of his robe, touched the cold object within, then withdrew his hand and raised his arms to the assembled throng.

  “Greetings to all who have assembled here on this historic day,” he said loudly as the crowd settled down. “Today’s ceremonies will mark the entry of Bajor into a larger realm, a galaxy full of undreamed-of possibilities.

  “For many long decades we were a world under siege, and even as we continue the long process of rebuilding our homes and farms and cities, we must also rebuild our hearts and our trust. Nowhere has this trust been more fragile than in our relationship with Cardassia. Once our sworn enemies, they have now petitioned to become our friends.”

  Yevir saw that he had the complete attention of everyone on the Promenade. He also noted that Colonel Kira and other members of her staff stood on the upper level, watching him. Vedek Solis, he observed, was beside the colonel.

  He continued, “Over the past several months, First Minister Shakaar and Second Minister Asarem have worked with Cardassian Ambassador Natima Lang to draw up a blueprint for a lasting peace between our world’s political leaders and the Ghemor government on Cardassia. Unfortunately, those plans have stalled of late. Without extraordinary efforts by extragovernmental entities—specifically, the clergy of two great civilizations and the ordinary citizens from whom their moral authority flows—Bajor’s joyous Federation Day might also sound the death knell for any chance of an honest, unmediated peace between Bajor and Cardassia. But I have recently learned that the people of Bajor and Cardassia aren’t about to permit that to happen.”

  Yevir reached into his pocket, pulled out the jevonite statue, and held it up for all to see. During his speech he’d searched the crowd for Mika and her child, but failed to pick them out; despite the folly of her belief in Ohalu, he regretted that she would not be able to share in this moment.

  “Kasidy Yates, the wife of the Emissary, recently gave me this statue, which was unearthed from the ruins of the lost city of B’hala. It is many thousands of years old, made during a time long before any star travel was possible in the sector which encompasses both Bajor and Cardassia. Yet this statue is composed of jevonite, a mineral previously had been found nowhere else except Cardassia. The figure’s face is carved to represent both Bajoran and Cardassian features.

  “How can this be possible? I have asked myself this question repeatedly. Ages before Bajor and Cardassia were known to have crossed paths, a statue depicting a union between our two peoples was brought to Bajor. I can come to but one conclusion: For this to have happened so long ago, for it to have been discovered now, for the wife of the Emissary to give it to me during our time of greatest change…clearly, these things all show the guiding hand of the Prophets.”

  Yevir motioned to the vedeks behind him. “The peace-loving, ordinary people of two worlds have begun to bring about the rapprochement that their leaders have yet to accomplish. Some say that politics is the art of the possible, and that may be so. But to conceive and bring about a reality which has been characterized by many as im- possible requires faith. When intergovernmental diplomacy and negotiation fail to bring about what must come about, then it is time for people of faith to step into the breach.” He fixed his eyes on Shakaar and Asarem for a moment, then returned his gaze to the crowd.

  “To ensure the future of both our worlds, I have joined my voice to those of a small but influential group of Bajoran vedeks and Cardassian clerics. Cleric Ekosha leads Cardassia’s Oralian Way, the largest denomination of the faithful who wish to build a trusting mutual relationship with Bajor. During the last several hours, she and many key members of the Oralian hierarchy have already provisionally agreed to an exchange of spiritual ambassadors—Bajoran vedeks and prylars and Cardassian clerics and rectorates who will go to their former enemy’s respective homeworlds as part of an ongoing grassroots effort to build a sincere, uncoerced, and enduring peace. Many of the details remain to be worked out, to be sure. Perhaps because faith is our mutual stock-in-trade, Cleric Ekosha and I both have tremendous confidence that this plan will ti
e our two worlds together in amity and generosity—and make any future wars between our two civilizations as unthinkable as those age-old conflicts that pitted the ancient Bajora against the Perikians, the Lerrit, the Endtree, and so many of our other ancient forebears.”

  Yevir turned toward the Oralian rectorates, who responded by moving forward and repositioning the four antigrav sleds. Each Oralian knelt beside one of the sleds and grasped the cloths that covered the objects supported by the floating devices. The vedeks and Ekosha stepped forward, smiling in anticipation. Gul Macet hung back a bit, behind the others, though he remained prominently visible to all.

  “As these negotiations began, Cleric Ekosha impressed me with her clear understanding that building trust was paramount, particularly with so many of Bajor’s Occupation-inflicted wounds still livid and unhealed. Ekosha and others therefore sought to bring us tangible proof of their sincerity. So together we combed Cardassia’s ruins, hoping to recover at least one of Bajor’s most significant spiritual artifacts, the Tears of the Prophets. Imagine my astonishment when a journey into a demolished Cardassian city yielded all four of the missing Orbs!”

  At Yevir’s prearranged signal, the rectorates bowed their heads and pulled the cloth coverings away, revealing four ornately carved arks. The vedeks behind Yevir surged forward. Frelan reached toward one of the arks, then fainted dead away. Luckily, Eran caught her, supporting her frail body with one trembling arm. Sinchante’s jaw dropped as though captured by a neutron star.

  Concurrently, faithful Bajorans throughout the Promenade began reacting in a variety of ways. A few fainted just as Frelan had. Many began to pray. Others lifted their arms and cheered. Some began to chant or sing or hug those next to them, Bajoran or not. Yevir lifted his eyes to witness the effect his unexpected unveiling was having on Shakaar and Asarem, and was delighted to see astonishment etched across their features.

  Yevir spoke again, his voice clear and resonant. “Because peace is too important to be thwarted by failures of leadership, the people of two worlds have taken direct action of their own. This is no mere stunt or gesture; it is real. Children of the Prophets, on this joyous inaugural Federation Day, Cardassia returns to you the Orb of Truth, the Orb of Destiny, the Orb of Souls, and the Orb of Unity. It is my fervent hope that we will keep these four precepts in our minds and in our hearts as we face Bajor’s new future. As long as our faith remains strong, there is no goal the Will of the Prophets cannot achieve. Including the creation of peace between Bajor and Cardassia, and a repudiation of war as complete as the banishment of the Pah-wraiths.”

  Yevir turned and opened his arms to Ekosha, and the two embraced.

  The Prophets have truly blessed us all.

  Standing on the Promenade’s upper level, Vedek Solis placed his trembling hand on Kira Nerys’s shoulder. She turned to him, shock reflected on her face as much as he imagined it showed on his. He enfolded her in his arms for a moment, his robes cloaking her as she held tightly to him. He didn’t need to touch her ear to feel her pagh; it radiated from her brightly enough that even nonbelievers should have been able to perceive it.

  He smoothed her hair, speaking in low tones so that only she could hear. “Yevir is obviously capable of doing good. No matter what the Prophets are to Bajor, gods or teachers, his actions have been guided by a higher power. But I also believe that power has as much faith in you, Nerys, as you have in it.”

  She embraced him even more tightly, and he heard her recite what he recognized as a prophecy from one of the sacred texts: “When the children have wept all, anew will shine the twilight of their destiny.” Then she grew silent, and he felt her begin to sob. Solis gently patted her back, taking care that his robes shielded her from anyone else’s view. The colonel’s feelings about her faith did not deserve to be scrutinized in public.

  Shakaar paced the room, which had been emptied of all personnel. Yevir’s announcement had stunned him and had created a sensation throughout Deep Space 9, as well as all across Bajor. He could no longer stand to watch the reports on the secular or religious comnets, though they scrolled quietly across viewscreens set up on work tables near the windows.

  Stalking over to the replicator, he angrily ordered a reqilof, but after taking one sip of the drink, he flung it and its container across the room. Curse Yevir and his little diplomatic coup! Shakaar moved to his desk and pressed a tiny button, opening a drawer. He pulled out a small silver box and stared at his reflection on its gleaming surface. Stroking the hasps that kept the box closed, he willfully changed his thinking. What can I do to turn this situation to our advantage?

  The door chimed, interrupting his thoughts, and he quickly placed the silver box back into the drawer. He looked at the security monitor mounted near the door and saw that Asarem stood outside. “Come in,” he said.

  The door slid open and she moved into the room, worry evident in her eyes. “Edon, I don’t mean to intrude, but we really should confer about how these latest developments might affect today’s signing ceremony.” Voicing an apparent afterthought, she asked, “Are you all right?”

  He slumped into a couch, unconcerned about wrinkling his simple yet formal suit. “Why wouldn’t I be all right? Just because one of our top religious leaders has done the very thing we would not, and has struck a very public deal with the people who were once our greatest enemies?”

  She took a seat across from him, and he realized that his tone was alarming her. He softened his voice and smiled. “Of course I’m ecstatic to have the Tears of the Prophets returned. Their significance to the people of Bajor is immeasurable. And perhaps we can use Yevir’s maverick actions to our political, as well as spiritual, advantage. Certainly, presenting a publicly supportive face will prove to all in the Federation just how well Bajor’s religious and secular authorities can work together. Everyone should be convinced of how very advanced and peace-loving the Bajoran people truly are—despite the depredations they’ve suffered for so many decades at the hands of their Cardassian oppressors.”

  Asarem looked perplexed for a moment, but she smiled wanly. “I agree. To that end, let me also inform you that I have received a communiqué from Cardassia Prime. In the wake of Vedek Yevir’s surprising achievement, Ambassador Natima Lang is eager to resume high-level talks between Cardassia and Bajor.”

  Shakaar snorted. “I expected as much.”

  Asarem appeared ready to ask a question, but then her expression changed, as though she had decided against it. “Would you like me to schedule a time to restart the negotiations with Lang? It will certainly help us to take advantage of the surprising good fortune and good faith brought by Yevir and Cleric Ekosha.”

  Shakaar waved his hand dismissively, and his traditionally calm demeanor returned, seeming to settle over him like a cloak. “No. We have other things to prepare for right now. Our biggest responsibility to the people of Bajor lies in the signing ceremony this afternoon. There will be plenty of time to deal with Lang and the Cardassians…especially once the Federation takes over responsibility for such things. With the UFP leading the charge, any negotiation can’t help but be a lot more favorable for us.”

  Asarem’s brow wrinkled, but she nodded slowly nonetheless. Her lukewarm reaction made Shakaar consider giving her a glimpse into his desk drawer.

  Asarem exited the dignitary suite a few minutes later. Two guards fell into step behind her, but neither of them spoke to her.

  She wasn’t sure where she was going, nor with whom she should speak. Something had been nagging at her for weeks now, and this latest meeting with Shakaar only further crystallized her feelings. Something is different about Shakaar. It isn’t like him to be so angry and vindictive—even toward the Cardassians he used to fight during the Resistance. She was no longer sure that his agenda and hers matched.

  At a time when the coming days should have filled her with hope, Asarem could feel only unease.

  What does Shakaar really intend for Bajor’s future?

  25 />
  After Chief Chao had finished diverting auxiliary power to the targeting circuits, Shar attempted once again to reestablish the transporter lock on the away team as the deck beneath him shuddered and rolled.

  “Nothing,” Chao said. “I’m resetting the targeting scanner and reinitializing the transporter relays. Let’s try this again.”

  Standing behind Shar and the transporter chief, Bowers breathed a quiet curse when this latest attempt to lock onto the away team failed as well. “Any more combadge signals from the artifact?”

  “Negative,” Shar said, shaking his head, his antennae curling backward. “But they’ve only been inside for a few minutes. I’m not even certain that time flows at the same rate inside the artifact as it does in normal space.”

  “Resetting again,” Chao said, clearly not intending to give up anytime soon. “This would be a lot easier if we could bypass the relay network and bring the Defiant right up close to that artifact.”

  The ship rumbled and shook yet again under the Nyazen onslaught. “That doesn’t strike me as particularly likely at the moment,” Shar said, trying very hard not to think about the fact that three of his friends and colleagues might never be recovered. And as with Thriss, their deaths would weigh heavily on his soul.

  But he knew he had no time or energy to spare on such self-recriminations. We’re in a combat situation now. Turning toward Bowers, he said, “We have to get to the bridge.” Even in his own ears, his voice sounded hoarse, pained.

  Bowers’s combadge spoke before either of them managed to get into motion. “Medical bay to security!” Ensign Richter’s voice played a note of controlled panic.

  “Bowers here. Go ahead, Krissten.”

  “The alien—Sacagawea—has just gotten into a highly agitated state. Maybe the fighting out there has spooked him, but I don’t want to take any chances.”