His comm crackled and he almost relaxed before he recognized the fragmentary transmission as Cardassian. “Terok N…reporting…prisoner…ip…out.”

Holem could scarcely breathe. He spun the ship’s dials frantically, trying to pick up any other transmission, but there was nothing else. Bajor loomed ever larger in front of him, and he had to prepare for the heat and violence of re-entry.

Swallowing his terror, he clutched the flight yoke and shot his raider through the turbulence. He struggled to orient the ship once it broke through, struggled with feelings of shock and disbelief as he pointed the little raider in the direction of Tilar. There was nothing he could do. Lac was gone.

It had been a full day of study and prayer. Final services had ended, the late meal had been taken; Kai Arin was exhausted when he finally retired to his chambers, hoping to read a bit and go to bed, and the last thing he wanted to do was discuss Opaka Sulan with one of the vedeks. Especially Gar Osen. Vedek Gar had been very vocal in his opposition to Opaka’s activities these past two years, ever since she had taken her son and left her stone cottage. Arin had publicly renounced Opaka’s status as a vedek of the church, but he had not issued an Attainder, despite having threatened to do so. Vedek Gar had been trying to persuade Arin to make good on that threat ever since.

Of course, it was possible that Gar wished to speak of something else, he told himself when he answered the late-night rapping at his door, but the kai doubted it. And truly, it was just as well. He’d known for some time that he and Osen needed to speak; it could be put off no longer. Much as he did not wish it, the kai invited his old friend into the small library that served as his study chamber, trying to prepare himself for the conversation ahead.

Arin owed much to the vedek, owed his very life to him. When the old Kendra Shrine had been destroyed, Arin had tried in vain to save the Orb that had been housed there. He could still clearly remember stumbling through the smoke, the walls falling all around him, retaining the divine object his only thought. He would have died, but that Gar Osen had pulled him to safety.

Gar began before he’d even taken his seat, his tone pleading, his words coming rapidly. “Your Eminence, surely you are aware of the dwindling numbers of faithful who come to attend our services. Opaka’s message is becoming widespread, not just in this province, but on all of Bajor. Others are spreading her teachings. Other vedeks, Your Eminence! You must denounce her words by formally Attainting her. You must stop this…this wildfirebefore it spreads any further.”

Arin chose his words carefully. “The fire of which you speak has already consumed most of our world, Vedek Gar.”

Gar was taken aback, as the kai knew he would be. “Your Eminence, what am I to conclude from such a statement? Surely you are not trying to tell me that younow reject the D’jarras? That you’ve…given up?”

Arin shook his head. “No, Vedek Gar. I have not given up. I have…reconsidered. In the two years since Opaka left, I have studied and prayed and thought upon her words. And I have come to see the power behind them. Bajorans are finally becoming free of the despondency that has plagued us for twenty years. They no longer see themselves as victims. They are fighting back.”

“But of course you do not condone the fighting, Your Eminence. You mustnot condone it.”

Arin was troubled. “I have begun to question many of my own beliefs, Vedek Gar. What you say is true…but our world has never known such a struggle, and I fear that if we cannot unite, we will be broken. A successful leader must be able to admit that he was mistaken.”

“Yes, of course, Your Eminence, but you must tread lightly around this delicate matter—”

“Vedek, I should inform you that I mean to write a series of new sermons, with a very different message from what I have taught in the past. I will call for an assembly tomorrow, to announce the change.”

“Your Eminence, I must—”

“I thank you for being such a valuable adviser to me over these many years, Osen,” Arin said. “I will forever be grateful to you, for your counsel and your friendship. But I believe that for now, my closest adviser must be my own heart.”

Gar’s eyes flashed with anger. “Kai Arin, I believe you pay too much mind to false counsel, and not enough to the prophecies.”

Arin felt a flash of annoyance. Had Osen just accused him of having a false heart? He gestured to an ancient book spread open on a kneehole desk behind him, an original printing of the Oracle of Spires, a collection of prophecies from long ago.

“Vedek Gar, I have studied the prophecies all my life. There are many verses that contradict what is said regarding the D’jarras. You know as well as I do that it is possible to twist the meaning of these verses to suit one’s own agenda. I will not be accused of picking and choosing among the prophecies in order to bolster a particular argument.” Arin was aware that his hand had tightened into a fist. He consciously relaxed it, and continued. “The Prophets have fallen silent to me, but I know They watch over us still, and make Their voices known to those who would listen. When I see how Opaka Sulan’s efforts have been rewarded, I see—I hear—what Bajor is telling me to do. And I believe it is time to listen.”

Gar was speechless as Arin dismissed him. The kai was ambivalent as the other man left the small chamber, sorry for his old friend—Gar had been unwavering in his faith, in his reliability as an assistant and counselor. They had worked closely together for many years. But Arin had come to acknowledge that the old caste system was not serving them well, and as Opaka and others like her had spread their message, he’d felt the change in the air, a feeling of possibilityamong the people that seemed like a kind of rebirth. Contrary to what he’d believed all these years, it had been far from injurious to morale for the people to leave their D’jarras behind. He realized that what he felt was mostly relief, to finally admit to Gar what had vexed him so in recent times. Gar had always been the greatest supporter of the D’jarraway.

He turned back to the book of prophecies he had been immersed in before Gar came to call. He found the verse he had been reading, and traced a finger along the line of text. The time of accord shall bring an Emissary, and the Emissary shall bring a new age to Bajor.

“The Emissary,” Arin murmured, just before he felt cold fingers slip around his throat.

“I’m sorry,” said a familiar voice, and the kai, clutching at those icy fingers, turned to stare into a pair of eyes that seemed strikingly reptilian, though Arin had never noticed it before. “I’m afraid I can’t let you call that assembly, Your Eminence.”

The kai didn’t understand. He struggled, but the pressure only increased, and images of joy and sorrow and regret ran through his mind; it was as though it was all coming together, becoming a coherent story. His last thought was of the Orb he had lost, the great tragedy of his life in service to Them…. If Gar had not dragged him out of the shrine when he had, could he have saved the Orb of Truth? Could it be, as the people often murmured, that the Orb had not been destroyed at all, but… taken…?

Black flowers bloomed in his eyes, and the struggle was too great, blotting out his thoughts, and then there was nothing, nothing at all.

Miras Vara sat up abruptly in her bed, sweating and cold. She swept her damp hair from the nape of her neck, breathing deeply as reality began to piece itself together again. She was in her bedchamber, in the small apartment where she lived alone, across the way from the Ministry of Science, where she worked. It had been a dream, only a dream…never frightening, exactly, but it was the same dream she’d had with increasing frequency in past weeks. This time, it had been different.