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Be
“The touch of the Prophet’s Tear showed much to me. I see it unfolding. There is talk of rising up against the oppressors.”He ground out the words. “A holy war.”
Be
The old man rubbed at his face. “Listen. With each passing day it becomes clearer to me that our birthworld is the place of ashes. It is not safe for us here anymore. Bajor…”He looked away. “Bajor may be the only sanctuary for our faith.”
“Hadlo, I—” The screen went dark, and Be
“Be
“It’s all right,” Be
He looked at the console. “You were speaking with Hadlo?” When Be
Be
The other man nodded. “Indeed. That is partly why I wanted so much to come to Bajor. The chance of a spiritual refuge holds great promise for me, for all of us.”
“Perhaps,” Be
“What do you mean?”
“The Detapa Council divides the branches of our faith and misinforms us, keeps us from coming together so that we might oppose them. At home we are blinded to the threats that surround us, and on Bajor those of our people in the enclaves think themselves safe.” He shook his head.
“I know they are not.”
“But haven’t the Bajoran clergy accepted our friendship? Don’t their people know that we are travelers on twin paths?”
“I’m not speaking of Bajor or the Bajorans.” Be
Pasir laughed. “Spies? You know the hearts and minds of every one of our people aboard this ship! Look at me, Be
Be
He got a smile in return. “I must confess, I am greatly looking forward to meeting our Bajoran counterparts. I’ve read much about their Prophets and their Celestial Temple. It will be fascinating to meet with one of their priests.” Pasir paused. “You spoke to me of the prylar Gar Osen. I should like to meet him.”
“He is a ranjen now,” Be
Pasir’s smile deepened. “Then, with Oralius’s grace, once this venerable old craft reaches Bajor, I hope to make his acquaintance.”
Be
Dukat peered into the discreet console on the arm of his chair, studying the image there. The display on the hooded console was arranged in such a ma
From the corner of his eye he saw the door slide open, and he turned in his seat to see Kotan Pa’Dar cross warily toward him, stepping around the control podiums of the frigate’s compact two-tier command deck. The civilian didn’t enjoy being in the presence of so many military men. He walked with the air of a weak child in a room full of idle thugs. “Dal Dukat,” said the scientist. “I did as you requested.” He waved a padd. “The analysis is most interesting.”
Dukat took the padd and saw Pa’Dar glance at the dal’s monitor. The civilian’s eyebrows rose as he realized what it displayed. He shot the commander a look of sudden alarm.
“Call it a thought experiment, Kotan,” he said languidly.
“How many bolts would it take to blast that scow from space?”
His amusement deepened as the other man hesitated, unsure if Dukat was asking him a question or just making an idle threat. “I would think that would be a rash course of action,” Pa’Dar said finally. “We are not the Klingons. What you posit is more in line with their crudity of behavior, Dal.”
“Quite so.” Dukat had made it clear that Pa’Dar wasn’t to call him by his first name in front of his crew, and he was pleased the civilian kept to his orders. “It is only a drill for my weapons officer, nothing more.” He gri