Cathedral Michael Mangels (free ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📖

is true, you’re willing to suppress an offshoot religion if it helps you achieve that. Macet wants respect, and to finally emerge from the shadow of a man whom all of Bajor hates. Not to mention many Cardassians who haven’t forgotten who began our world’s slide into destruction.”

Several troubling questions percolated up from the depths of Macet’s soul at that moment. Is she right? Have Yevir and I flattered ourselves into believing that we’ve come to forge peace between our respective worlds? Or has this all been an exercise in self-aggrandizement for us both?

Yevir appeared to be grappling with similar notions. But unlike Macet, Yevir seemed to have a ready answer. “I swear to you, Cleric Ekosha, without reservation, without doubt, that I am acting solely in the interests of my people. To do that, I must also act in the best interests of yours.”

Then Yevir did something that Macet didn’t expect. Very deliberately, he removed his Bajoran earring and tossed it to the ground. Then he began stripping off his heavy clerical robes, setting them atop the earring in a careless pile. He stood in a plain white tunic and trousers, bereft of any badge of office. But what he had shed in clothing he more than made up for in simple dignity and courage. Until this moment, Macet had not been at all certain that Yevir possessed any such qualities.

“I don’t deny that I might benefit personally from a last-minute rapprochement between Bajor and Cardassia. If the price of such a peace is that I throw all of that aside, then I will gladly do it.

“I come among you not as a candidate for kai, nor as a representative of any religion. I am here with one agenda only: to bring our peoples together without any force or coercion—even the benevolent kind that the Federation would surely bring.

“I ask only that you do the same thing. Forget about whether or not the Oralians will profit from emerging from your bunkers. Think instead about what’s best for your people. You know as well as I do that without a just peace—arrived at freely—there will be war again between Bajor and Cardassia someday. If our two civilizations cannot reach out to one another without outside help, then old slights and injustices will fester on both sides. We can lance those boils and bring about a healing. But only if we act together now.”

Yevir extended his hand toward the stout woman, who looked at it as though it might turn into a poisonous reptile at any moment. Macet had the sudden sense that the entire axis of history was revolving around this place and time. And that Yevir’s words were absolutely right, whatever doubts Macet still harbored about his own motivations.

Macet felt a stab of regret at the sharp words he had hurled at Colonel Kira when he had confronted her about the intransigence of her world’s political leaders. A remarkable people, these Bajorans.

Yevir’s words had evidently struck a sonorous chord within the Oralian cleric. Ekosha extended both her hands and grasped Yevir’s between them. “I am not so old as to imagine that even a masterstroke of peace will suddenly gain the Oralian Way the respect that is its due. Nor am I still so in love with living for its own sake that I am willing to hide underground forever.”

Macet tried to put aside the jubilation that swelled within his chest. Like the master kotra player he was, he tried to anticipate the next move the fragile new alliance ought to make. But all he could come up with was yet another unsettling question, one that he didn’t hesitate to ask aloud: “How do we broker a peace agreement when even our most accomplished diplomats have failed?”

Yevir answered without hesitation, a serene smile on his lips. “The Prophets will provide, Gul Macet.”

“I think I may have a suggestion.” A voice called out from the shadows surrounding a nearby pile of rubble. Sliding smoothly from the darkness was a middle-aged Cardassian man, his body lean and whip-strong, his black hair slicked back.

With wide eyes and a friendly demeanor, the man stepped toward Yevir and Macet. He extended his hand in an attempt to shake theirs. Macet knew that the newcomer had picked up the custom during the long years he had spent living among humans and Bajorans.

He greeted Macet first. “Gul Macet, always a pleasure. You’re looking fit. And familiar. By the way, that boy with the atrocious manners is called Mekor. One of the children of Skrain Dukat. I believe he may have been expressing his sincere regret that his late father never found the time to take him here while the amusement park was still in operation.”

The new arrival turned next to the half-dressed Bajoran. “Vedek Yevir, how good it is to finally meet you after having read so much about you. I must confess that I never expected to see a member of the Bajoran clergy in such a state of dishabille. At least, not since I left the haberdasher’s trade. My name is Elim Garak. And I believe I may have the solution to our mutual problem.”

13

“Evasive maneuvers!” Vaughn shouted just before the Nyazen flotilla opened fire.

But there were simply too many of them. The first salvo rocked the Defiant hard, and Vaughn gripped the arms of his command chair as the bridge pitched forward and the red emergency lights came on. T’rb sprawled headlong onto the deck, but regained his footing a moment later, evidently not seriously hurt.

“Bowers, engage cloaking device!” Vaughn said, loath to play this card so early in the game but seeing no viable alternative.

Bowers quickly entered one command, then another. He shook his head and regarded Vaughn grimly. “Cloak’s off-line, Captain. Return fire?”

“Starting a war isn’t one of our mission objectives, Lieutenant.” Vaughn said with a stony scowl.

“Shields are down to forty-two percent,” Bowers reported.

Shar righted his capsized chair and