Days of the Vipers

Gar heard sounds out in the corridor beyond and the thread of his reverie snapped. Swift, frightened footfalls stumbled along the wooden floors, getting closer by the second. The vedek stepped to the table and laid a hand on the phaser, those long fingers slipping into the cloth to wrap around the weapon’s knurled grip.

A hard report sounded on the chamber door. He could hear someone gasping in deep breaths on the other side. “Gar! Gar!” The words were high with effort and terror. “Are you in there? For Fate’s sake, open the door!”

Gar knew the voice, and he schooled his face in the moment before he released the latch.

A hooded figure in pastel-colored robes fell in through the door and slammed it shut behind. The hood fell back to reveal slick, jet-black hair framing a pale gray face lined in ropelike ridges, sunken blue eyes darting back and forth across the chamber. The Cardassian held a leather carryall clutched to his chest, knuckles white where they held on to the strap with wild determination. He blinked and swallowed hard. “Brother,” he began breathlessly, “you have no idea how glad I am to see you! I didn’t dare to hope that you would still be here.”

Gar opened his hands. “Where else would I be, Be

Be

“Why are you here?” Gar asked carefully. “You must know the keep won’t offer you any sanctuary.”

Be

Gar shook his head. “I mean that this place won’t protect you.”

The other man sagged in the chair. “I…I know that. They’re out there, sweeping the streets with bio-sca

“The others?” The vedek eyed the bag, wondering about its contents.

“Gone,” Be

“What if…what if I am the only one left? What if I am the last to walk the Way?”

Gently, the vedek peeled Be

The Cardassian looked away. “I don’t know if I can.” He choked off a sob. “I…Tima, she…”

“Strength, Be

“Can you hide me?” The words were plaintive, like a child’s. This Be

Gar shook his head. “You ask too much, Be

“No,” Be

“I’m sure even Oralius knows that no man can be strong every day.”

Be

Be

“It’s only a small impairment.” Gar appraised the mask.

“This is an impressive relic.”

“It is one of the original Faces of the Fates, from the time of the First Hebitians on Cardassia,” said the other priest. “I’ve kept it safe for years…” He blinked, shaking away a moment of distraction. Placing the mask on the table, Be

Gar was no stranger to the religion, having seen Be

The Cardassian was on his feet, nodding to himself. “You ca

There were more footsteps out in the corridor: the heavy thud of armored boots matched with the splintering of doors being kicked open. Gar heard gruff voices shouting and calling out commands to one another.

Be