In spite of himself, Hadlo’s face creased in amusement and he began to laugh gruffly through the dalin’s viselike grip. “Can it be that an officer in the homeworld’s military is too unsophisticated to grasp the very nature of his own species? Are you that raw and untempered, Dukat, that you do not understand?” His laughter intensified, and the other man grimaced, shoving him away.

“I should kill you,” Dukat growled. “Crush the life from you and then do the same to those other spineless zealots who hang on the hem of your robes!”

Hadlo straightened himself, brushing dust from the front of his clothing. “But you won’t,” he replied, taking a sip of water. “The Oralian Way is the bridge to Bajor now. Iam that bridge, Dukat. If you have any loyalty to Cardassia, you will understand that. I will live, because it benefits Cardassia to have me live.” He eyed the officer. “And as much as you are your child’s father, you are Cardassia’s loyal son first, yes? As am I.” Hadlo put down the glass and walked to stand before Dukat. He tipped his head back to expose his neck. His hands were at his sides; the cleric presented the most open target for the dalin’s furious ire. “Make your choice, Dukat. What devotion sings loudest? Vengeance for a child that did not live or greater glory for your world and your species?”

The priest felt a stab of fear as he saw something harden in Dukat’s eyes, and he wondered if he had gone too far; but then the soldier’s tightened fists fell open and he turned away.

Hadlo sighed. “I regret the passing of your child. I promise I will dedicate a prayer to Oralius in his memory.”

Dukat turned back to throw him a look, his hooded eyes glittering. “We will talk of this again, priest. And on that day, your faith will not protect you.”

Evening was drawing in as Gar Osen wandered the ornamental gardens, turning the events of the day over in his mind. At the side of the reflecting pool, he saw a familiar figure, the sky-blue robes closed around Bennek as the Cardassian leaned over the shimmering surface, peering into the depths.

The alien cleric looked up as he approached. “Brother Gar. Hello.”

Gar smiled tightly. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the Oralian’s way of addressing the Bajoran clergy. “Bennek. I had thought you would be preparing for tomorrow.” He nodded at the distant construction. “You are joining Hadlo on his inspection of the enclave site, I believe?”

“I am.” The Cardassian seemed weary. Gar understood; it had been a busy few weeks. Part of him was still reeling. Barely a month ago, the offworlders had seemed little more than a distant idea, something that other people spoke of second-or thirdhand. Now they were here, on Bajor, and it seemed they would not be leaving anytime soon. “It’s so peaceful here,” Bennek said wistfully. “I cannot think of a place where I have ever felt such spirituality.” He looked back at the pool. “Cardassia has nothing to match this, Gar. As much as I love my homeworld, it has become a hostile place for our beliefs. I relish the chance to engage the Way in a place where I can honestly think upon it…instead of listening with fear for the sound of our persecutors’ footfalls.”

“I am glad we can help you…” Gar said warily. “The kai believes we can learn much from one another.”

Bennek nodded. “I have spoken to my brethren on Cardassia Prime. Pilgrim ships are being prepared. They will come to seek knowledge…” His voice dropped. “And perhaps, a small measure of sanctuary.”

How many?The question leapt to the front of Gar’s mind, but before he would voice it the alien came forward with one of his own.

“What would you do, Prylar, if your faith were in danger? If the Prophets were being threatened?”

Gar blinked at the sudden intensity of the query, and he answered without thinking, from the heart. “My faith is greater than I am. I would do whatever I had to do to protect it.”

Bennek looked up, and Gar could see his eyes were fixed on the distant site of the enclave. “Yes,” he whispered, “as shall I.”

FIVE YEARS AGO

2323 (Terran Calendar)

8

“My client categorically denies all charges.” The words were firm and clear, and they carried across the courtroom to Darrah Mace as he slipped quietly through the door.

The speaker was a thin, austere woman; she was of that indeterminate approaching-middle-age that Mace found so hard to pin down. Bajoran females got older in different ways than their men, and even after his years in the police service Darrah was never comfortable when he was called upon to guess a woman’s age. He usually ended up offending someone.

It was warm inside the windowless room; they were a level below the entrance atrium of the Korto City Watch Precinct, sandwiched between the duty offices and the holding cells below. In theory, the building kept all the city’s law and order operations under one roof; in practice, it was inadequate to the task. The poor ventilation was just one of the reasons Darrah didn’t venture down here that much. Since rising up the ranks to inspector status, there wasn’t often call for it. He needed a good reason to be here; and today his good reason sat in the dock, looking equally angry and mournful.

The public defender continued, and as she did so Darrah placed her face. Els Renora.She was an acid, waspish sort, but she did her job well. “I would point out to the court that scans of Captain Syjin’s ship revealed no traces of the materials he was accused of transporting. At best, what we have is circumstantial evidence of an alleged crime backed up by hearsay.” She drew herself up. “I move for a dismissal.”

A squat Cardassian got to his feet from the prosecution’s bench and wandered past the magistrate, gesturing at the air. “All those scans prove is that the accused is very good at cleaning up his vessel.” The alien lawyer sniffed. “The fact remains. Quantities of marajicrystals were found in the domiciles of pilgrims at the Korto Enclave. When questioned, they positively identified this man as the trader who provided them.”

“I’m a freighter captain, not a drug dealer!” Syjin snapped, his voice high and tight. “I never touch that kind of cargo!” He bared his teeth. “And I know the law! That stuff isn’t illegal on Bajor anyway, not that I would carry it, because I wouldn’t!”

The prosecutor gave him a sideways look. “No. But it isillegal in the Cardassian Union, and according to the terms of the alliance between our two worlds, the enclaves are classed as Cardassian territory, where our legal codes apply.”

Els shot Syjin a glare. “Be quiet,” she told him, “you’re not helping.”

“I counter the defense’s request with a demand that Syjin feel the full weight of that law and be turned over to Cardassian authorities for legal processing.” The prosecutor paused, letting that sink in. “I ask the magistrate this: Are you really willing to damage the goodwill that has built up between Cardassia and Bajor over the last five years for the sake of an untrustworthy—”