Pa’Dar studied the group of Bajorans who approached them from the larger group. At their head were a trio of males in ornate tunics of varying cut, one who clearly had assumed the mantle of command bearing a weathered face, the others following a step behind. Past them, there were three more in robes that shared some similarity to the dress of the Oralian clerics, although the Bajorans wore skullcaps or headgear that arched over their odd, wrinkled brows instead of hoods. And at the rear, a group of figures in what were unmistakably military uniforms. The sketchy cultural briefing Pa’Dar had absorbed before the mission’s departure told him that much, but he was unsure how to interpret the colors of the tunics or the oval gold insignia on the collars. He elected to avoid addressing any of the Bajoran soldiers in the event he mistook a rank and offended one of them.

“Gul Kell, I am Verin Kolek, First Minister of Bajor,” said the one with the heavily lined face. His voice had the timbre of age and acumen. Pa’Dar had watched the feed from the Kornaire’s communications a few days earlier, but until he stood here, staring at the alien, he had not truly understood how peculiar the Bajorans looked. Their flesh, with hues ranging from pinkish yellow to dark ebony, were nothing like the stony, harmonious gray of his own species; and the faces were so smooth and uncharacterful, with only a small patch of nasal ridges to suggest anything like the fine ropes of muscle and bone that adorned the Cardassian aspect. The one who called himself Verin was an elder, and Pa’Dar wondered how old he could be. Cardassians aged at a steady, stately pace, growing more regal as they did so—but this alien seemed almost wizened by comparison. And he is their ruler? Are all their leaders so decrepit?

The minister was still speaking, indicating the younger men standing with him. “This is Kubus Oak, whom I believe your people have already met, and Jas Holza, whose hospitality we all share today.” He gestured to the robed Bajorans, beginning with the lone female. “This is the honored Kai Meressa, and her adjutants Vedek Cotor and Prylar Gar.” Finally, it was the turn of the soldiers. “Our Militia representatives, Jaro Essa and Coldri Senn.”

The Kornaire’s commander nodded with grave solemnity, and Pa’Dar wondered if the Bajorans detected the element of careful pretense beneath the motion. “I greet you in the name of the Cardassian Union and the Detapa Council. We regret that it must be under such circumstances as these”—he gestured toward the arched enclosure where the dead bodies were lying—“but it is Cardassia’s fervent hope that on the foundation of such a tragedy our two peoples may come to better know each other as interstellar neighbors.” He took a breath. “This is my first officer Dalin Dukat, and these are representatives of our Ministry of Science and the Oralian Way.”

The woman Verin had called the kai stepped forward and bowed. “I welcome you to our world in the name of the Prophets,” she began. Her voice was clear and melodic, and it carried across the courtyard. She looked to Hadlo and the other clerics. “Before we go any further, please let me express my personal delight in meeting a deputation from the followers of Oralius.”

“You know of our faith?” said Bennek.

“Indeed,” said the kai. “Our ecumenical scholars study the beliefs of many worlds, and we have come to understand that our faith can learn great lessons from those of other beings. I hope that during your visit here we will be able to speak of Oralius’s teachings. We are interested to learn more of Cardassian spirituality.”

Pa’Dar could see that Hadlo was surprised by the woman’s openness. On Cardassia, matters of so-called faith—such as they were in these more enlightened times—did not usually find such a warm response from outsiders. The cleric nodded woodenly. “Of…of course. And I too would be fascinated to learn more about your Prophets.”

Meressa glanced at Verin and Jas. “With the minister’s permission, we will speak of them now.”

Jas returned a nod. “Please, Kai, you may begin at your discretion.”

The woman bowed slightly, and the troupe of alien priests moved to join several others of their number near the shrouded bodies.

The Bajorans made a sign over their chests. “Before we proceed, the kai will perform a blessing for the spirits of the Eleda’s crewmen,” explained the younger minister.

Bennek craned forward to get a better look at the Bajorans, and Hadlo shot him a terse glance. “Show decorum,” rumbled the old cleric.

“Of course,” Bennek replied, but the priest’s manner belied his statement. Bennek was fascinated by the aliens, and had been ever since the Oralians were approached to join the Kornaire’s mission. What he had seen of Bajor through glimpses of the wrecked ship and the dead men was compelling. Bennek had never set foot off Cardassia Prime in all his twenty-seven years, spending much of his life buried in Oralian scriptures and tomes from the ancient Hebitians. He had grown up steeped in the past of his planet, never once considering how life might exist in other places; but a chance moment, accompanying Hadlo when the cleric had been allowed to examine the Eledacrew’s personal effects, had sparked something in him. Among the wreckage of the ship were the remains of a small alcove containing a portable shrine, and there he had come across fragments of a votive icon that resembled—albeit only slightly—a Face of the Fates. He remembered the physical shock at seeing it. Hadlo had dismissed the moment, describing it as a mere coincidence and nothing more, but Bennek couldn’t shake the sense that there was something greater to the similarity. Oralius lives above all,he had reasoned. Is it so strange to imagine she might have touched the souls of other beings as well as Cardassians?

The daring thrill he felt at actually entertaining so radical a thought coursed through him once again. It was something he would never have dared to voice in the chapels of the Way—the conservative nature of his fellow believers was well known to him—but out here, far from home…Suddenly, the possibility seemed real. He watched Kai Meressa and the other Bajoran priests making patterns in the air with their hands. Bennek was energized by the idea of learning everything he could about these “Prophets,” and perhaps taking the first step toward bringing these aliens to the light of the Way.

The youngest of the Bajoran clerics, the one the First Minister had introduced as Prylar Gar, saw Bennek watching him and inclined his head with a cautious smile. He wondered if Gar was thinking the same thoughts. The kai took lit tapers from two females in simple shift dresses and used them to light fat yellow candles on a portable altar, in front of the enclosure where the dead men had been placed. Bennek’s gaze lingered on the women. The forms of the Bajoran females were so different from the women he had known on Cardassia; his culture favored wives and daughters to be muscular and athletic in build, mothers and elders to be robust and sturdy. These were willowy and lithe in comparison; they reminded Bennek of the desert nymphs from old fables. Their smooth, flawless skins made them seem ephemeral, almost angelic.

“The land and the people are as one,” intoned Meressa.

“This truth has been at the heart of us since the day the Prophets first walked among us; but when our sons and our daughters venture far beyond the stars and dark fates come to claim them, they are no longer at one with the soil of their birth.” The priestess bent down and scooped a handful of sandy dirt from the courtyard at her feet, then let it fall away through her fingers. She gestured to the corpses. “These shells are no more than the husks of what our kindred once were, the corporeal remains of friends, brothers, sisters, lovers.” Bennek saw several of the Bajorans in the stands behind the dais nodding, some moved to tears. There were children among them, he noticed, realizing for the first time that those had to be the families of the Eledadead.