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The Bajorans, ru
Speakers on the skimmers and the few streetscreens that still worked were broadcasting the same loop of careful speech, a string of platitudes recorded by Lale Usbor calling for calm across the planet and assuring the people that their Cardassian friends were here to help restore peace.
On occasions, as he moved from building to building through the rainy morning, Be
The first time, he wept, clutching the leather bag to his chest and rocking in the wet darkness. The second time he just watched, and the time after that, and the time after that.
It took all day to reach the hill district on foot, and then an hour or two more before he was at the ornamental gardens and through to the Naghai Keep. Be
Panic built in his chest, a heavy knot of it like a vise being slowly tightened more and more until his ribs would crack. “What if he is not here?” Be
The cleric had gambled it all on this one thing, on the single hope that he would find the man he needed in the Naghai Keep. If he was wrong, then his failure would be total. “Am I the last?” he asked the air. “Am I the last one to walk the Way?”
He turned a corner and his pulse raced. He knew this place: the quarters that the priests of the Celestial Temple had taken after the destruction of the monastery at Kendra. If he was here, it would be in one of these rooms.
He crossed up and down the corridor, finally halting outside a door. “Gar! Gar!” It was hard to speak without gasping. “Are you in there? For Fate’s sake, open the door!”
When the latch released, he threw himself at the door and fell inside. The vedek was there, watching him with cool, wary eyes. Words spilled out of Be
Gar eyed him. “Why are you here? You must know the keep won’t offer you any sanctuary.”
Be
“I mean that this place won’t protect you.”
The reality of those words hit him like hammers. The skimmers—they had been so close behind. The soldiers—even now they were likely tracing his steps through the gardens, into the keep, toward the central tower…They would find him. It was inevitable. That made this choice all the more important.
Gar seemed to sense the understanding within the other cleric and spoke with gentle care, encouraging him to remember his faith, to take strength from it. Be
The skimmers were outside. He could hear the noise of their engines. Be
When Gar shook his head, he felt as if darkness had swallowed him whole. Denied? He wants to let me die?Panic returned, swamping him in its embrace. For one moment he longed for the numb nothingness he had felt after learning of Tima’s death. And there, in her memory, he found something close to strength.
“I’m sure even Oralius knows that no man can be strong every day,” said the Bajoran.
“But now I have to be,” Be
The Bajoran looked down at the burden Be
And then Gar Osen did something odd. He smiled. Not in the warm ma
The door to the chamber shattered under a heavy boot and banged open. Be
A gli
“Is there a problem, Gli
“We’re tasked to recover all Oralian dissidents for processing,” said the officer. He pointed at Be
“How so?” Gar made it sound like this was some parlor puzzle game. Be
The gli
“Lubak Five. Tul One. Karda Nine.” Gar said the words with a flat, slightly irritated sigh, moving the mask and the scrolls to his right hand. “Authenticate.”
The officer was so surprised to hear a Cardassian code issue from the mouth of the cleric that he input the string into his tricorder without really thinking about it. He read something off the screen and his gray skin whitened. “Forgive me, Agent,” he began. “We were not aware that the Order was operating in this zone.”
Be