Beyond Gloomy Chaos 4/7 (DS9/TNG)
Title: Beyond Gloomy Chaos
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Following Sisko's entry into the Celestial Temple in "What You Leave Behind," the Q find themselves facing a dilemma that could result in interplanetary catastrophe. Can Picard, Kira and Data retrieve the mysterious Book of the Resurrection before all hell breaks loose on Cardassia?
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the Star Trek universe and everything it encompasses. This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights, and the only profit I gain by it is emotional satisfaction.
PART THREE
CHAPTER NINE
"Damar," Kira whispered. "Are you sure you know where you're going?" She cursed her inattention, and not for the first time since she left Deep Space Nine; she had not kept a close eye on the power cell in her wristlamp, and as a result she had been forced to rely solely on Damar's dubious knowledge of the dark subterranean passage.
The gentle squeeze of his hand around hers reassured her a little, but not much. "Don't worry," he said. "Cardassians can see in the dark, remember?"
"Maybe so," she grumbled as she tripped over an unseen obstacle. "But Bajorans can't."
"We'll be returning to the surface soon, I promise," he said. "There's an access door just a couple hundred meters away."
"What do we do once we get to the surface?"
"If I remember correctly, there's a herd of riding hounds pastured not too far from there. We'll take a couple and ride across the Zanathian Desert to find the Kerdish."
"I thought you said the Kerdish lived underground." She wondered why they had not seen any during their sojourn in this strange clandestine world; the Kerdish must have developed an aptitude for camouflage over centuries of persecution.
"They do, but I guess in my witlessness I overlooked the season. At this time of year they make a pilgrimage to the foot of the Boudat Mountains. It's some sort of holy place in their mythology."
"Lovely," she muttered. "I'm sure they'd be just thrilled to have a Bajoran riding into their camp and demanding to see their holy book."
Damar chuckled softly. "I don't know, Colonel. I think you'll find the Kerdish to be much more accommodating than you give them credit for. They've been on the receiving end of governmental prejudice for centuries."
"All the more reason not to upset them even more." She chose not to remind him that the purpose of her interest in the Kerdish and their holy book was to determine if the book was, in fact, the same one Picard sought and, if so, to destroy it before Picard had a chance to use it against Bajor. Nonetheless, she knew Damar understood her intentions precisely. Odd, she thought, considering his profession of loyalty to the Kerdish, but then nothing about this trip had met her expectations. 'Odd' was hardly the word for it anymore.
Rather than reply, he stopped and craned his neck upward. Then, reaching out with his free hand, he said, "Here we are."
"Where?"
"There's a ladder right in front of you. This is how we get back to the surface."
"I'll believe it when I see it." Kira reached out blindly, waving her arms in front of her and hoping she would not fall flat on her face. Instead, one hand came into contact with a hard, tubular object -- upon closer examination, she realized, a ladder almost identical to the one they had come underground on. "You knew this was here all along?"
"Mm-hmm."
She stepped up on the first rung. "Is this where you intended to bring me before... before you recovered your memory?"
She heard the rustle of fabric as he shrugged. "I guess so. I can't imagine any other reason why I would have brought you down here. Unless, that is," he added with a soft laugh, "I had some simple-minded notion to kidnap you and make you my wife."
Kira stiffened. Coming from anyone else, his comment would not have been funny by any stretch of the imagination. Coming from a Cardassian, however -- and a Cardassian who had her at a complete disadvantage -- the insinuation was chilling, to say the least. "Don't ever make a crack like that again," she said, drawing as far away from him as she could without losing her balance and tumbling from the ladder.
"I'm sorry, Colonel," he said. She could hear genuine remorse in his voice, and relaxed a little. "I shouldn't have said that."
"It's all right, Damar," she said, trying to reassure him. "I know you didn't mean anything. It's just..." She tried not to think of her mother.
"I know," he said sadly. "I forgot for a moment, but I know."
Kira let it pass. There would always be misunderstandings and missteps between her people and his, as long as anyone who remembered the Occupation and the Dominion War still lived. "Forget about it," she said. "I will if you will." She looked upward, straining her eyes in a futile effort to penetrate the darkness. "Are you sure there's a trap door up there?"
"Positive." She felt him climb to stand on the rung beside her. "Better let me go ahead." He brushed past her to ascend the ladder. Once the way was clear, she clambered up behind him.
When the ladder's frame ceased shaking beneath his greater weight, she knew he had stopped climbing, and did the same. "Are we at the top?"
"One moment," he said with a hint of strain in his voice. Beyond him, Kira heard the grinding of metal against metal. Then there was a whoosh of inrushing air and a sliver of light appeared above her head.
"Can I help?"
"Just... about... got it.... There!"
The sliver of light became a broad band streaming directly into Kira's eyes, blinding her with its brilliance. She turned away and shielded her eyes with one hand, holding on to the ladder with the other.
"Damn, it's bright out," Damar said. "Hard to believe it'll be night in just a couple of hours."
"You're kidding me." Still squinting, Kira ascended to the top rung to stand beside him and look out at the acres of sparse, scrubby vegetation that passed for a Cardassian meadow. Far in the distance she could see the hazy skyline of the capital. "Holy Prophets," she said in amazement. "We must've walked at least fifteen kilometers."
"Sounds about right," he said. "Don't forget that more than half the city was completely decimated by the Jem'Hadar. It didn't use to look so far away." He turned at the waist and pointed behind them. "That way's west, so you can see how late in the day it is."
Kira turned to gaze at the glowing disk on its final descent toward the horizon. Surrounding it like demure ladies-in-waiting, three yellow moons in various phases floated in the carnelian sky. "I never realized you had such beautiful sunsets on Cardassia," she said with unfettered honesty and admiration.
She felt his scrutiny, but their close quarters allowed her no room to move away. "There's a lot of beauty to Cardassia you've never seen," he said quietly. Then he looked away. "You should see the sun set in the city -- the pollution in the air turns the sky every imaginable shade of red!"
Pointing toward a vague and irregular outline along the horizon beneath the setting sun, Kira asked, "Is that where we're headed?"
Damar nodded. "Yes, the Boudat Mountains. In between here and there is the Zanathian desert. It'll take us all night to cross it -- that's why we need a hound. They're the best way to cross a desert, barring mechanized transportation."
With a grunt, he heaved himself off the ladder and on to solid ground, then squatted down to extend a hand of assistance. "Let's get going before it gets too dark. It's quite possible that herd of riding hounds is long gone, which means we'll have to find another way to cross the desert."
* * * * *
Although he had better sense than to say so to Kira, Damar was surprised to find the herd pastured in their usual place. Whatever the cause, he was grateful for this small stroke of good fortune. The trip across the Zanathian Desert would be arduous, even with the magnificent hounds to ferry them across.
Kira squatted beside him as he knelt behind a hedge, searching for the largest and hardiest of the herd. "Surely you don't intend for us to ride one of those creatures, do you?"
He turned to see her wide-set eyes grow larger with apprehension, and felt a resurgence of emotions he wished he could ignore. This was neither the time nor the place, never mind his race and his personal history with this woman. On the other hand, she was still here -- on Cardassia, and with him. Nothing wrong with a little wishful thinking. It was not as if he had much else to hope for.
He grinned at her teasingly. "Surely the fearless Colonel Kira Nerys, heroine of the Bajoran and Cardassian resistance, isn't afraid of a little puppy ride?"
"'Little'?" she spluttered. "I've flown suborbital ships smaller than those animals!" Her eyes narrowed. "How are we supposed to catch one anyway?"
He had asked himself the same question. "I don't suppose you've got a replicator in that pack of yours?" She glared at him in reply. "Guess not. So much for a saddle and bridle. How about a rope?" This time, she shook her head.
He sighed. Then an idea came to him, and his mood immediately brightened. "You have salt tablets, don't you?" She was bound to have a substantial supply of salt tablets -- it was the only way Bajorans could cope with the oppressive heat on his planet.
"Of course I do," she said, giving him a strange look. "What do you need them for?"
"Give me four or five," he ordered, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers impatiently. While she searched in her pack for them, he explained, "Hounds love them. Offering salt to a riding hound is like waving a bar of latinum in a Ferengi's face. Once they get a whiff of this stuff, we'll have the pick of the litter to choose from."
"You sure that's such a good idea?" she asked, handing him the required tablets. "These hounds don't look at all tame."
He rose to a half-standing, half-crouching position. "Don't worry about it. We'll be fine. I know what I'm doing." At her unblinking stare he asked, "What? Don't you trust me?"
"Oh, I trust you just fine." She jabbed a finger toward the herd, some of which had already detected the scent of salt and were cautiously moving closer, their muzzles stretched forward, their nostrils quivering in curiosity. "It's them I don't trust."
"Well then," he said as he slowly unfurled himself to his full height and stepped out from behind the hedge, "I guess you'll just have to walk."
"Walk?" He knew she had followed after him, and grinned to himself in mischievous satisfaction. Nothing like a challenge -- from a Cardassian -- to bring out the best in her.
"You've got two choices, Colonel," he said, trying to rein in his laughter. "You can ride across the desert on the back of a riding hound, or you can walk. Or," he added thoughtfully, "you can stay behind."
"The hell I will." Her voice was firm but not angry. "I'll ride, if that's the only option I have. But I'll be damned if I'm going to like it."
Now that the herd was almost within arm's reach, Damar stopped. There were a little more than a dozen, many of them with nursing pups peeking out shyly from behind their mothers' legs. Standing apart from the rest of the herd, a dog watched Damar's movements with wary, distrustful eyes, ready to command the others to flee at the first sign of danger. They all looked sleek, well-fed and at least half-tame. Good enough for him.
He slowly stretched out his arm and opened his hand to reveal the source of the enticing scent. The hounds did not move, instead tensing their powerful leg muscles. However, their necks were extended forward as far as possible without actually coming into contact with him. Despite his eagerness to get moving, Damar knew impatience would ruin his chances. He held perfectly still, waiting for them to make the first move.
A bitch, an enormous hound with a dappled coat and large, intelligent eyes, pushed forward from the back of the herd. Damar took a step or two closer. The other hounds backed away, but the bitch stayed where she was, her ears pricked high and forward, her tail slightly lifted. Damar took another step closer.
The soft velvet of her lips caressed his palm where she gently lifted the tablets out of his hand. Then a wide, wet tongue licked off any remaining residue. While her attention was pleasurably diverted, Damar carefully raised his free hand up toward the crest of her mane, then just as slowly slid it downward toward her withers. Before she had licked the last grain of salt from between his fingers, he had leaped gracefully on to her back.
He felt her muscles go suddenly taut between his legs and wrapped his hands in her scrubby mane, preparing himself for her flight. For a moment, he thought she might actually bolt -- then she relaxed and craned her neck to look around at him, her soulful eyes clearly indicating she was prepared to do his bidding.
Damar almost laughed out loud; even after years of freedom, her training was so deeply ingrained he needed to give her only a moment's notice before socialization overcame nature. He glanced down to see Kira gazing up at him in wonder. Perhaps unconsciously, perhaps not, his ridges swelled with pride. "How did you do that?" she asked, obviously awestruck. "You just --" her hands fumbled in the air as she tried to recreate the scene "-- and you... then you... just like that!"
He shrugged with false nonchalance. "It was nothing. You just have to be able to anticipate their reactions."
"I'll say."
He chuckled, then leaned down, his arm held out. "Need a boost, Colonel?"
She scowled, then rolled her eyes and muttered something inaudible -- a prayer, he guessed -- and grabbed his forearm. When he pulled her up to straddle the hound behind him, even with her assistance her lightness surprised him. There were birds on Cardassia that weighed more! Yet he knew, all too well, that beneath that petite, fragile exterior she had the strength of the finest titanium alloy. He had the memories of a black eye, fractured jaw and several cracked ribs to attest to her strength.
"You ready?" he asked.
He felt her shift behind him, then her arms came around to clasp tightly at his waist. "As ready as I'll ever be."
"Then let's go." In response to a click of his tongue and a gentle nudge from his boot, the hound took off at a long, rolling lope.
* * * * *
Damar stood motionless and watched as the sun sank behind the distant mountain range, the sky above him mutating from orange to pink to pale indigo in a matter of minutes. Above him, Kira shifted herself into a more comfortable position astride their mount.
When Cardassia was still in her prime and Damar was one of her highest-ranking officers, he could have easily acquired a shuttle to ferry Kira across the Zanathian Desert in climate-controlled comfort. On the other hand, were things still as they once had been, he doubted he would have been inclined to help a Bajoran in any way. Since the collapse -- since his defection even -- his attitudes had changed and motorized transports had become available only to the opportunistic thieves and pirates who had stolen Cardassia right out from under his nose. Perhaps, he thought as he turned to tighten the cinch holding their stolen saddle on the hound's broad back, he could reclaim Cardassia and restore her to her former glory. She would not be the same Cardassia, however; the new Cardassia, the Cardassia of his dreams, would welcome change, welcome openness, welcome strangers.
Millennia ago, before his people took to the stars, riding hounds had been bred for the vast deserts that covered most of Cardassia's major landmasses. His people had once been wanderers -- until they were enslaved by the Hebitians and forced to settle in cities and turn away from the uncertainty of the nomadic life -- and the courageous hounds had served them in good stead. Now these majestic beasts were little more than pampered pets, gifts to children from overindulgent parents, although some in the upper classes trained the hounds to hunt or race for sport.
The hound stirred, snorting and pawing impatiently at the ground. "Easy girl," he murmured, raising his hand to scratch beneath her chin. "We'll be going soon enough." He gathered the reins in one hand, wondering at yet another stroke of good fortune: they had come upon an abandoned stable and found a fully-stocked feed and tack room. Coincidence had turned in his favor so many times in the past two days he was beginning to wonder if he was being set up for a fall.
He looked up to the sky and saw Cardassia's three moons, known in myth as the Witches of Korashnavar, shining high and bright in the starless sky. Damar shivered against the sudden chill of the night air and rubbed his hands together beneath the folds of his robe, stolen, like their tack, from the clutches of chance.
The hound tossed her head, causing the metal links on her bridle to jingle tunelessly. She then pushed her muzzle toward him and grabbed a lock of his hair between her velvety flews.
Kira laughed as Damar pulled free to place a foot in the stirrup. "I guess now's as good a time as any," he announced. "Trust me, Colonel, you don't want to be caught out in this desert during daylight hours."
"Won't you be too cold, riding at night?" she asked.
Her concern for his comfort warmed him as much as his thick robe did, but he merely nodded at her, then pulled himself up into the saddle. "I'll be fine. You'll soon find out how well-suited to desert climates these gettle's-hide robes can be."
"No need to tell me," she said, leaning forward to once again wrap her arms around his waist. "I already feel as if I'm sitting before a roaring fire with a hot cup of raktajino in my hands and a wool blanket covering my feet."
He whistled to the hound, noting with pleasure how quickly she responded to his commands. "Hold on to that feeling. You'll be needing it sooner than you think." Then, with a nudge from his boots and a sharp cry, he commanded the hound into a full gallop.
Her broad, flat paws barely marked the soft desert sands as she skimmed across the surface with a grace any starship designer would envy. Damar applied gentle pressure to her flanks and leaned forward over her withers, drawing his legs up and wrapping his hand in her mane. She responded to his unspoken encouragement with a series of loud, joyous barks and a surge forward, her pace quickening with each long-legged step. Kira clung to him for dear life; he could feel her heartbeat hammering fiercely against his back.
Damar could not help grinning. Despite the chill and the throbbing in his head, the feel of the wind rushing past, the tiny grains of sand embedding in his still-tender cheeks, and, above all, the circle of Kira's arms around him and her warm breath in his ear, invigorated him, reminding him that he had once again cheated death. Now that he had been given yet another chance, the time had come for him to stop cheating life.
* * * * *
The first sign of trouble came when a bolt of lethal photonic energy streaked past Kira, jangling the adornments on her earring. "Damar..." she called in his ear, her voice audibly strained.
"I know!" he said, jerking downward when another phaser bolt hissed overhead. "Hang on."
The warning was unnecessary; she had already felt the hound's powerful muscles coiling beneath her, preparing for a surge in speed. Kira tightened her grip around Damar, pressing her body closer to him as he bent low over the hound's withers and urged it to run faster.
The ground flew past. Wind burned Kira's eyes, wrenching moisture from her tear ducts. All she could hear was the steady pounding of the hound's paws against the sand and her own heartbeat hammering in her chest.
A third phaser bolt flashed past, then a fourth and a fifth. Kira's heart sank. The discharges were coming from different directions; whoever they were, the assailants had them surrounded. Even as Damar drove the hound away from one unknown danger, he led them into another.
She chanced a look behind her, hoping she might see one of their attackers approaching. All she saw were several indistinct shapes, mounted on riding hounds as she and Damar were, racing toward them beneath the first glimmers of dawn. She turned her head to the right, then the left, and saw more riders. Escape was futile. Their only hope was to stand their ground and fight -- to the death, if that was the Prophets' will.
"Damar," she said, almost choking as the wind rushing past forced her breath back down her throat, "slow down. We can't outrun them all. There's too many of them."
Almost immediately she felt the hound slow to a canter, then gradually reduce its pace to a walk. Kira ached with pity for the animal; she could feel its exhaustion as its sides expanded rapidly in an effort to regain control of its breathing. Thick, yellow foam covered its muzzle and its head drooped so low Kira thought Damar might topple forward over its neck. She hoped the animal would not drop dead beneath them.
Damar reined the hound to a stop. "We'll let them come to us," he said.
They did not have to wait long; in a matter of minutes the shapes on the horizon coalesced into a band of six or eight riders. Almost as soon as Kira could see them well enough to distinguish features, they slowed, then divided into two groups that diverged in a wide band to encircle the threesome. Then, apparently obeying some unseen signal or predetermined plan, they tightened the noose.
The riders, their mounts blowing great clouds of steam into the chilly dawn air, took up stationary positions around them. They were visibly well-armed, each rider carrying a phaser rifle across his lap, a pistol holstered at each hip, and knives strapped to knee-high boots. One of them also had a vicious-looking split-bladed saber sheathed behind his back. This was no simple scouting party; whoever they were, these riders were trained to kill. Kira's only question was, what were they waiting for?
Kira thought Damar's demeanor was unusually calm, in light of their situation. Not that she expected him to panic -- he had been too well-trained for such recklessness -- but she could not help noticing the absence of tension in his shoulders. In fact, he had completely dropped the hound's reins to let his hands rest placidly on his thighs. Was this some sort of ploy of his, an attempt to disarm the outriders? If so, she wished he had filled her in. For her part, she was prepared to take down any one of the riders who dared to lay a hand on her.
Once the outriders were in place, the Cardassian wielding the saber -- presumably the leader -- coaxed his mount forward until he was little more than a meter from Damar and Kira. Then he guided his hound in a tight circle around them, studying them from all angles with a critical, appraising eye. Throughout the stranger's examination they remained silent, although Kira's back throbbed with the discomfort and resentment she felt. All she could do was glare fiercely at the rider's brazenness, but she knew her silent hatred carried no weight. Her fingers itched for a phaser.
At last the head outrider finished his investigation and returned to his position before them. With a gravity and majesty of movement that in anyone else might have passed as mocking, he returned the massive rifle that had been resting across his thighs to its holster and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Then, finally, his mouth cracked open, allowing the dawning sunlight to glint off his teeth. "I thought I told you never to set foot on Kerdish lands again," he snarled.
Kira stiffened. If they were not so thoroughly outgunned, she would have reached for her phaser. Damar seemed unmoved, however. His voice far more even than anything Kira could have mustered at that point, he said, "You told me never to come back unless I was dead."
The outrider's eyes narrowed. At some unseen signal from him, his hound sidestepped closer, affording him the chance to lean forward and peer at Damar. "You don't look so dead to me."
Kira was a bundle of nerves, a lit fuse about to explode with destructive force. Damar, on the other hand, was as calm as a spring-fed lagoon. "You never said anything about my resurrection," he said.
The outrider jerked back on the reins when his mount leaned over to nibble at the other hound's neck, causing both animals to shy away. For a moment, Kira feared losing her seat. Then Damar managed to regain control, and once again both hounds and riders stood opposite each other.
"Why didn't you 'resurrect' her too, brother?" the outrider asked, his voice quavering. "Hm? Why are you the only one so honored?" He shifted his phaser rifle until the muzzle was aimed directly at Damar's abdomen. "Why are you still alive, while my sister still lies in some unmarked grave hundreds of kilometers away?"
Sitting so close to him, Kira felt the wave of sadness and regret wash over Damar, almost engulfing him. She had been there when he learned of his family's execution; she remembered how deeply their loss had affected him, and how his desire to avenge their deaths had spurred him finally to stand firmly on the side of righteousness. She also remembered, with profound contrition, how she had mocked his grief, and how soon she had been forced to swallow her scorn.
A deep, shuddering sigh racked Damar's body. Then he raised his head to look up at the outrider and said, "If it would bring her back, then I would gladly sacrifice my own life."
With a blur of movement, the outrider had unsheathed his saber, swung it over his head and pointed it at the center of Damar's throat. Kira froze. The right amount of pressure could drive the twin blades through Damar's neck and straight into her own, killing them both with a single thrust. "Damar..." she whispered.
Ignoring her, the outrider leaned slightly against the pommel of his weapon. "Well, then, why don't we see just how devoted to her you really are." His upper lip lifted in a sneer. "The Tellers will tell my tale for many generations, because I killed an outsider to avenge my sister's death."
Kira felt the gurgle of fear in the pit of Damar's stomach. "You'll be told for what you are, Dorek," he said. "A coward who executed two unarmed guests. Is that how you want the Tellers to remember you?"
The outrider stared hard at Damar, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his cheek trembled. Then, his movements as rapid and graceful as before, he pulled back and sheathed his saber. Feeling Damar's exhalation of relief, Kira released her own inheld breath.
She immediately regretted her action when the sound of her sigh caught the outrider's attention and he turned to stare at her. His gaze lingered too long for her comfort, and she looked away. Her face grew hot at the sound of his deep, throaty laugh. "Since when did you start consorting with aliens, brother?" he asked Damar. Kira's fists clenched.
In direct contrast to her ire -- not to mention all that had just passed between them -- Damar gave a hearty laugh and reached out to grasp the man's proffered arm. "Brother!" he cried. "It is good to see you again. It's been a long time."
"Too long," the outrider agreed with a toothy smile. "Our hearth has seemed less warm without you." He leaned forward and whispered loudly, "Although I doubt some of our kinsmen miss your propaganda as much as I do." He leaned back and released his grip on Damar's forearm to gesture toward his face. "It looks like you have new tales to tell. What the hell happened to you?"
"Consequences of being a revolutionary," Damar said tersely. After a long silence, he asked, "Kormet?"
The outrider nodded. "As domineering as ever. And expecting you... and your companion." He trained a leering gaze on Kira, causing her to wish once more for a weapon, for deterrence if nothing else.
Before she could protest, Damar said, "Don't even think about it. Colonel Kira is well out of your league."
"Colonel Kira?" he asked, grinning widely. "My, my, brother. You've always moved about amongst the elite, but what did we do to deserve a personal visitation from such an august personage?"
Kira felt Damar's shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. Rather than unleash her irritation on him, she asked the outrider, "What do you mean we're expected? How did you know we were coming?"
"She's right," Damar said. "How did you know we were coming -- and don't tell me that the ancestors whispered it into Kormet's ear."
At that, the outrider threw back his head and laughed uproariously, his amusement resounding off the mountain walls Kira now saw, in the encroaching sunlight, were only a few kilometers distant. Once he had contained his laughter, the Cardassian grinned at Damar and spat against the ground. "Let's just say we have a couple of your friends in our custody at the moment."
Damar craned his neck around to look at Kira. "Do you think--?"
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Commander Data?" she asked the outrider. "One a Human, the other an android with gold skin?" The outrider nodded. "You haven't hurt them, have you? If word of this gets back to Starfleet --"
"Colonel," Damar said, "if Captain Picard and Commander Data are guests of the Kerdish, I can assure you they are perfectly safe."
"You'll forgive me if I find that difficult to believe," she snapped. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "After what I just witnessed, I'll be amazed if any of us lives to see the sun set."
The outrider guided his mount closer to them, so he could address Kira directly. "You'll have to excuse that small display of unpleasantness between Damar and myself," he said with unconvincing sincerity. "I think you'll be much safer riding into camp with me." He extended a hand toward her.
"I'd sooner walk barefoot in the middle of the day," she said.
"Colonel!" Damar said, although his tone suggested amusement more than reproof. "Forgive her behavior. You know how Bajorans can be."
"Indeed," the outrider said with a smile. "Even so, you'd better have a good reason for bringing her here. It's bad enough we've had to dodge our own people for centuries, now we'll have to contend with offworlders poking their noses into our business."
Damar grunted. "She's looking for something. That's the same reason Picard and Data are here. We got split up down under."
The outrider's eyes narrowed and his mount pranced nervously, disturbing the other hound in kind. "What are they looking for? Or do I want to know?" He looked at Kira, his head cocked to one side. "Oh, no. She's not after the--?"
Damar nodded. "I can't be positive, but from what she's told me, it sounds like that's exactly what they're after."
"You know Kormet will never agree to it."
"I know. But we had to try."
The outrider snorted in reply, agitating his mount once again. He quickly calmed the beast by pulling up on the reins and stroking its flank. The hound's ears rotated back at the sound of his murmurs, then whickered once and grew still. "Do you realize what this could mean for us? Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Rather than wait for a reply, the outrider simply gave Damar, then Kira, another long, hard stare, then whistled to his mount and turned it around in a tight circle, spurring it to a gallop in the same instant. Without a word, the others followed suit, leaving Damar and Kira alone. Confused, Kira asked, "What do we do now?"
Damar reached forward to gather up the forgotten reins, then slapped their hound on the rump. As it took off after the others with a loud bark he called behind him, "Follow them. The rest is up to Kormet. We can't do anything else until we see her."
CHAPTER TEN
Data was the first to spot the cloud of dust that heralded the riders' approach. "I believe they are returning, Captain," he said.
Picard strained his eyes, but saw nothing other than an endless expanse of pale browns and oranges rising up to meet another endless expanse of pale browns and oranges. "Are the colonel and Legate Damar with them?" he asked.
"They are too far away to tell," Data said. They continued to stare at the horizon.
After several minutes, the dust cloud entered Picard's field of vision. He looked at Data for confirmation. "Yes, I do believe Colonel Kira and Legate Damar are with the riders," he finally said.
Picard felt a measure of relief, and relaxed his posture slightly in response to it. How he and Data and the colonel and Legate Damar had become so widely scattered was a puzzle with no easy solution presenting itself. He could not remember any branches leading off from the main underground corridor. How had he and Data managed to pass them by -- or was this another one of Q's sleights of hand? Anxious for their arrival, he trotted down to the cliff base, Data close behind him.
The brash young man they had first encountered at the point of his double-bladed saber upon emerging from the underground city galloped past, slowing just enough to throw Picard a jaunty salute before entering the gorge that led to the Kerdish encampment. The youths he called his Companions followed, each one nodding gravely as he passed Picard. Finally, bringing up the rear on a riding hound that looked to be on its last legs, Colonel Kira and Legate Damar straggled in.
"Colonel, are you all right?" Picard asked, stepping forward to assist her, if needed.
Kira climbed off the hound's back and jumped to the ground, untangling herself from the heavy cloak that covered her. She was caked in dust and sweat, but looked otherwise unharmed. "I'm fine, Captain," she said, looking around nervously as she ran her fingers through her damp hair. "How about you? They haven't hurt you in any way, have they?"
"Who?" Picard was momentarily puzzled. Then he realized who she meant by 'they.' "The Kerdish? No, not at all, I assure you."
"I told you the Kerdish wouldn't let any harm come to them," her companion said, dismounting to stand beside her.
Picard studied the young man, recognizing him for the first time now that his face was no longer half-hidden by scar tissue. As best as he could reckon, Cardassia's former leader was less than forty years old -- not even middle age by Cardassian or Human standards. Yet, to look at the shadows flitting behind his eyes, he had already endured several lifetimes worth of heartache. So this is the legacy of men like Madred, Picard thought.
"I believe I owe you a proper introduction," he said to the Cardassian, extending his hand in greeting.
The young man hesitated, then accepted his hand with a wary smile. "None is necessary, Captain. I know who you are. But... how did you--?"
"Let's just say I have friends in high places," Picard said. He saw the Cardassian and Kira exchange a look and a shrug. He wondered what had passed between them during their long time alone. Friendship between Bajorans and Cardassians? Not impossible, but certainly unexpected, given Colonel Kira's past. But, then, he knew nothing of Damar's past. Perhaps the colonel knew something Picard did not.
"Tell me something, Legate," he said as they trudged through the gorge, Damar leading the exhausted hound with a loose grip on the reins. Perched on the opposite bluff high above them, a sentry kept a watchful eye out for oncomers.
"Please, just Damar. Legate Damar died with Cardassia three years ago. I have no desire to bring him back to life."
Picard understood how Damar felt. He had often felt the same way: after he had been assimilated by the Borg... after he had been tortured by Madred... after Q had forced him to relive the defining moment in his life.... He had buried 'Captain' Picard more times than he cared to count. "My deepest apologies," he said with almost fatherly sympathy and affection. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I understand you have some connection to these people. Is that true?"
Damar nodded. "Yes, I've known the Kerdish for many years."
Picard could barely contain his curiosity. "How so? Obviously they're not part of mainstream Cardassian society -- whereas you, obviously, are."
Damar gave him a strange look. "You, obviously, know a lot more about Cardassia and her people than most aliens."
"The leader -- Danal Kormet -- explained a little about her people to me last night," Picard said.
Damar stopped and turned, his eyes bright. "Kormet? You've seen her?"
The haste and tenor of his response set Picard aback. "Well, yes," he said, unsure if that was the right answer or not. "We --" he swept his arm around to indicate all four of them "-- we're her guests for as long as we wish to stay."
Damar turned back and resumed walking, his pace quickening with each step. When he was out of earshot, Kira said in a low voice, "His late wife was Kerdish."
"Ah," Picard said, inclining his head. Her cryptic response still did not explain how a career military officer came to be affiliated with these people, but it did at least explain the depth of his connection to them. If the Kerdish could indeed help Picard find the Book of the Resurrection, as he suspected they could, given Q's active and personal interest in the success of this mission, then Damar would be a useful and welcome intermediary.
The remaining threesome rounded a bend in the gorge and came upon a broad, fertile valley completely protected by the forbidding rugged peaks of the Boudat Mountains. At the near end, the herds of riding hounds the Kerdish used as transportation and beasts of burden grazed freely on the thick vegetation that carpeted the valley. Beyond them, a dozen white-peaked tents had been pitched on the banks of a small stream fed from deep within the highlands. From this distance, Picard could see the Kerdish milling around the encampment and smelled the smoke of their cookfires.
It was not really a camp, nor was it their true seasonal residence; as elsewhere, they chose to inhabit a network of caverns created in the west-facing bluffs when, over the course of millions of years, water hollowed out dwelling-sized pockets in the vast limestone deposits found here. The tents erected aboveground were merely temporary, to give the Kerdish a place to escape the sun's oppressive heat while they conducted the business of their pilgrimage. At night, or so Kormet had told him, they gathered to hear the legends of their ancestors told in much the same way the first storytellers recounted the legends of Achilles and Odysseus, of Gilgamesh and Jacob and Sigurd and Arthur.
Ahead of them, Damar, no longer encumbered by the hound, sprinted toward the camp. Picard was tempted to follow him, but, understanding that this was a reunion of sorts for the young man, withheld his eagerness.
At the sound of Kira's astonished cry, Picard remembered his own awe and amazement the first time he saw this scene, when Dorek and his Companions had escorted Picard and Data to Kormet's tent. In all his years of traveling from one end of the quadrant to the other, in all the unimaginably diverse alien civilizations he had encountered, despite all he knew -- or thought he knew -- and understood about the Cardassians, nothing in his experience could have prepared him for the Kerdish. This was certainly not Madred's vision of the ideal Cardassian society. Picard could not even begin to imagine what Kira, with her limited exposure to Cardassian civilization, must be thinking. He turned to her. "Colonel, did you have any idea--?"
She seemed incapable of articulating speech at first as she stared all around her, trying to take everything in at once. Finally, she managed to ask, "These are the Kerdish?"
Before he could answer, a tall, slim figure emerged from a large tent on the outskirts of the camp and approached them. Picard recognized the man as Dorek. Apparently, so did Kira; she stopped to slide her field pack from her shoulders and reached inside.
Instinctively guessing her intentions, Picard grasped her arm in an attempt to stop her. "Colonel," he said.
She shook him off and pulled out a Bajoran pistol -- not the regulation Starfleet phaser she had carried before -- and activated the 'kill' setting.
"Colonel," Picard repeated with greater urgency. "Nothing's going to happen to us. The Kerdish have made it quite clear that they are more than happy to help."
"You can believe that fantasy all you want," she growled, holstering her pistol, then slipping her arms through the straps and rising to adjust the pack, "but I refuse to be so naïve."
"Colonel," Data asked, "were you and Damar threatened out in the desert?"
Kira nodded, then hastened to add, "That's not what worries me, though. Whatever grudge he --" she nodded toward the oncoming figure "-- holds against Damar is none of my business. What is my business is that Damar thinks he knows where we can find that book."
"The book?" Picard asked. He felt his jaw drop open. "The Book of the Resurrection."
She nodded. "That's why we came here." She leaned forward and whispered, "It's a Kerdish holy book." She took a step closer and lowered her voice even more. "Captain, it's here."
"It's here? Where? How do you know?" He had so many questions he hardly knew where to begin. A Kerdish holy book? That made no sense. Q had said nothing of the sort when he first solicited Picard -- but, then, neither had he said anything about Cardassian nomads. Q had a lot to answer for.
"I don't know exactly where the book is," Kira explained. "I can't even say for certain that it really is here. However, if Damar is right...." Her voice faded away.
"If Damar is right...." he repeated. If Damar was right, then the Kerdish were undoubtedly not as eager to help as they seemed. From now on, they would have to be very careful about what the revealed of their quest.
Picard looked up to see that Dorek come to a stop and was waiting impatiently for their attention. "Captain," he said with a broad, toothy smile at Picard's raised eyebrow. "Commander, Colonel --" he stressed Kira's title. "Danal Kormet asked me to invite you to her tent. Please, come. Now that you are all reunited, she is eager to hear your tale."
* * * * *
Q perched on the edge of the cliff, dangling his legs dozens of meters above the sheltered canyon where the Kerdish tribesmen had pitched their tents, and watched Picard and Kira head for a nearby tent, Data bringing up the rear.
He anticipated, rather than heard, the slight attention-getting cough behind him. "Not you again?" he sighed.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt your idyllic musing," was her sarcastic response, "but this is urgent."
The tension in her voice compelled him to turn and look up at his mate. "Am I being recalled?" he asked gently, worried by her pallor and the deep lines around her mouth and eyes.
Q shook her head. "No. Worse."
"What?" He suspected he already knew.
"It's the P, Q. They've sent someone to stop you."
He dropped his chin to massage his forehead with his fingertips. He had anticipated this, but had nevertheless hoped to forestall it a few more days. "Dare I ask who?"
He already knew, but her delicate snort confirmed his foreknowledge. "You can probably guess. They've sent Sisko."
Q turned away from his mate to stare thoughtfully at the miniature drama unfolding below. "Then we must act quickly," he said with conviction. "From now on, all bets are off. I will do whatever I have to, to make sure Picard succeeds." He paused, understanding as only an immortal omnipotent entity could the cosmic ramifications of what he was about to swear to, swallowed, then continued hoarsely, "No matter what the cost."
The slight pressure of her hand on his shoulder reminded him why he loved her so much, and he reached up to entwine his fingers with hers. "I'll be with you every step of the way," she promised. "No matter what the cost."
* * * * *
Outside, the fierce sun had already begun to bleach the sky white-hot as it continued its circadian ascent. Columns of evaporating dew further mired the air in a gauzy, diaphoretic haze. Inside Kormet's tent, however, it was blissfully cool and dark. Picard perched on a pile of plump cushions opposite the old woman, Kira to his right, Data behind them. Damar, he saw, was seated next to the woman so closely their shoulders touched. Who are these people? he wondered yet again.
Since he had already met Kormet, Picard assumed the responsibility of introducing the two formidable women. "Danal Kormet," he begun, bowing his head in greeting, "please allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Colonel Kira Nerys. Colonel, this is Danal Kormet, the leader of the Kerdish tribes."
"Kormet," she said, lowering her chin with unexpected grace and diplomacy. "It's an honor to meet you."
"Not half as honored as it is to meet you!" the crone cackled gaily, her voice as high and cracked with age as her teeth were black. She peered at Kira through brown eyes narrowed by squinting, a habit that made the ridges around her eyes and across her temples even more prominent. "It's not often I get to meet the source of some of my wildest stories."
"Kormet is a Kerdish storyteller," Damar explained with a smile. The old woman reached over to pat him on his arm.
"You're a storyteller?" Kira asked, amusement and vanity evident in her voice. Picard saw her glance quickly at the grinning Dorek, seated on Kormet's other side, then look away. "And you tell stories about me?" This time, she smirked at Damar. "I suppose I have you to thank?"
He laughed. "Don't look at me! Kormet's imagination far outstrips the truth."
Picard could not help laughing with the others at the elderly woman's outraged but good-natured splutter. For reasons he could not yet define, he felt at ease in the presence of this woman. Perhaps it was the lively eyes that seemed to take in everything at a single glance, or the simplicity in her hair and attire, so unlike most of the Cardassian women Kira had known, or the quick, agile mind that sensed exactly where to draw the line between teasing and mockery.
The object of his admiration leaned forward on her knees, her mirth evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. "Now that you are all here," she said, "perhaps you can explain what brought you on this long journey." She steepled her fingers before her chest and pointed them at Picard. "What are you seeking?"
After what Kira had told him, Picard was hesitant to respond. He did not want to reveal too much about the true nature of their mission, but he knew Kormet would see through any clumsy subterfuge. He glanced at Kira, who nodded encouragement in return. After another moment's hesitation, he finally said, "We're actually hoping to learn more about ancient Cardassian history. We know so little about --"
"How ancient?" Kormet interrupted. "How far back do you want to go?"
"Well --" he hedged "-- how far back does your history go?"
A ripple of amusement stirred through the tent. Although her expression remained stern, even Kormet's eyes twinkled. "How far back, indeed!" she said. "You found our ancient capital. Isn't fifty millennia old enough for you?"
"But," Data said, causing Picard to cringe inwardly, "the evidence indicates that the underground city predates the infusion of Cardassian culture by several thousand years."
"What evidence would that be?" Dorek asked, his expressive face all hard lines and angles.
"The iconography on the crypts," he said. "The skeletal evidence itself, in fact, suggests that Cardassian civilization is comparatively new." Picard wanted to find someplace to hide.
The Cardassian leaped to his feet, his neck ridges darkening with fury. "You desecrated our ancestors' graves?" he roared. "Who do you think you are, going where you do not belong?"
"Sit down, Dorek," Kormet said. "They cannot be expected to understand." She stared at Picard. "You should not have opened the crypt. However, since you did, in fact, desecrate our dead in your quest for information, you should perhaps have done a more thorough examination, so you could avoid insulting the living."
Picard saw Dorek tensing out of the corner of his eye. "How so?" he asked.
"Had you taken the time to broaden your investigation and remove those blinders you are so fond of calling 'perceptions,'" she said, "you would have found that the influx of Hebitian culture came late in the course of our civilization, and was relatively short-lived. However, because the Hebitians enslaved our people and made such a profound impact on the development and evolution of our history and culture, not to mention our very appearance, it is widely and erroneously assumed that the reverse was, in fact, what took place."
Picard felt about four centimeters tall. "But... but... I don't understand."
"Of course you don't," she said without accusation or contempt. "You're Human, and that binds you to a specific set of subjective perceptions. Because you -- and you, too, Colonel," she added, nodding toward Kira, "know our people only as aggressors, you assume that is all we have ever been -- all we are capable of being."
"But Central Command --"
"Of course Central Command promotes that image!" Dorek said. "It serves their purpose to portray our ancestors as fierce and warlike, as Klingons with brains. Do you think we could have survived if the people Central Command constantly waged war against discovered we were actually peaceful desert nomads?"
"'Peaceful desert nomads'?" Kira scoffed, rocking back and forth on her knees. "You've got the 'desert' part right, but I'll kiss a Ferengi before I'll fall for the 'peaceful' part!"
"Colonel!" Picard barked, furious and ashamed at her outburst.
"Oh, shut up," she shot back. "If there's one other thing they're right about, it's how your Human morals blind you to everything you can't stuff --" she molded her hands in the air, shaping the images she tried to articulate "-- into perfect little square jewel boxes!"
Before Picard could rise to his defense, Damar stepped into the fray, even rising to approach Kira and squat before her. "What about you, Colonel?" he asked quietly, intently studying her. "Do you think you're immune to the same preconceptions?"
Kira fumed in silence for a long time, her angry gaze never wavering. Then, finally, she said, "No. I don't. But I have a reason to think of Cardassians as aggressors -- you invaded my planet and tried to ruin it!"
"I invaded Bajor?" He clasped his hands between his knees, pointing the index fingers toward her. "Do you blame me for the Occupation?"
"No," she said, her anger abating. "That's ridiculous, I know you aren't old enough to have served on Bajor. But --"
"But what? But I'm Cardassian, therefore just like the Cardassians who invaded Bajor?" Kira's jaw clenched, but she refused to reply.
"What he means, Colonel," Kormet said, "is that all you know about our people is what Central Command meticulously arranged for you to know. The Occupation was a military exercise under the auspices of the Obsidian Order. It had nothing to do with Cardassia as we have known it for thousands of years."
"And the Federation-Cardassian War? The Maquis conflict?" Picard asked.
"Also orchestrated by Central Command," Dorek explained. "What you suffered at the hands of Gul Madred is no different than what many of us suffered for protesting his barbarism." He stood and crossed to Picard, then pulled away the collar of his tunic to reveal several centimeters of a brutally purplish scar that, Picard guessed, covered most of his chest. "A man not much different than Madred gave me this just for being Kerdish."
"What about him, then?" Kira asked, pointing at Damar. "He's as anchored to Central Command as they come -- Prophets, he was Gul Dukat's protégé! Why trust him?"
Both Dorek and Damar turned to look at Kormet. Although Picard could not see their faces, he did see the shadow of grief that crossed hers. Moving as one, both men rose and returned to her side.
"We were plebes at the Cardassian Military Academy," Damar began. "That's where we first became friends."
"For a long time I didn't want to trust him," the other continued. "I knew too well the consequences of revealing my heritage, and Damar seemed to be too much a by-the-book soldier to confide in."
"What happened to change your mind?" Picard asked.
Damar grinned while Dorek scowled. "My sister is what happened," Dorek finally said.
"She came to visit him one weekend, when most of our class had been given leave."
"As usual, we were restricted to grounds for failing to keep our marks high enough," Dorek explained.
"Not that it mattered. Dorek had a 'friend' in town he couldn't stay away from, and so I was alone in our quarters when she literally climbed in through the window." A wistful expression crossed his face even as Dorek rolled his eyes.
"As you can imagine," Dorek said with mock sourness, "keeping my heritage a secret was an impossibility after that. Damar hounded me every waking moment -- and even a few sleeping ones, too -- trying to learn more about her."
"What did you do?" Data asked.
"I bound him to a blood oath," Dorek said. "I made him swear never to reveal anything he learned about my people. By then, I knew Damar well enough to know he would never violate a promise sealed in blood -- he's far too idealistic. The Academy does all it can to freeze idealism out of its cadets, but Damar's is too deeply ingrained. He would --"
"Sacrifice a promising career out of loyalty to a beloved mentor?" Kira asked, raising her eyebrow.
Dorek snorted. Damar looked intensely uncomfortable. "Something like that, yes." Kira nodded, as though she already knew the rest.
"I never met a more passionate defender of Kerdish life after that," Dorek said. "You'd have thought he'd been born one of us. Whenever one of the inquisitors used us as an example of everything a 'good' Cardassian should abhor, Damar would be in his face, calling him a blind, cowardly fool. The other cadets took to calling him 'dish-lover after a while."
"What was that song?" Damar asked.
Dorek chuckled. "'The 'Dish and the Spoon'." Both men laughed. Then Dorek sighed. "Damar forced me to re-examine my own prejudices. Until I met him, I never allowed myself to see Cardassians as anything other than brainwashed automatons, all marching in perfect lock-step to Central Command's tune. Thanks to Damar, I learned to broaden my perceptions. Until he was assigned to Dukat's staff, that is. Then it was as if we'd never met." Picard saw Damar lower his head in visible shame.
"For a long time, after he had fallen under Dukat's influence, we thought we had lost him for good," Kormet said, resting her hand on his shoulder. "We feared Central Command had finally managed to destroy his idealism."
"We feared he would eventually betray us to Central Command," Dorek said. "Then, five years ago, I was arrested on suspicion of treason." He looked at Picard. "You can imagine what they put me through."
"Only too well," Picard said grimly.
Dorek nodded. "They would have killed me, too, if Damar hadn't used his new promotion to secure my release."
"And your sister?" Kira asked.
Dorek scowled again. "They were united three days after he escorted me home."
"What about the Dominion?" Data asked. "Did they not consider the Kerdish a threat?"
Kormet shook her head. "From what I've been told, we were considered more of a threat to the Cardassian infrastructure."
"So they left you alone," Picard said.
"Yes," Damar said. "It wasn't too hard to convince Weyoun how much I feared the Kerdish's corrupting influence." A slow, sly grin spread across his face. "As long as he thought they were more of a threat to Cardassian sovereignty alive than dead, he made sure the Jem'Hadar stayed away from them. And I made sure my men stayed away as well."
"And now?" Kira asked. "What will you do now?" Picard could not tell if her question was intended for Damar or the Kerdish.
"For now?" Dorek asked. "For now, we do as the rest of Cardassia: we rebuild."
Kormet reached over to clasp Damar's hand, her face glowing with joy. "And we welcome home our prodigal son."
PART FIVE
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Following Sisko's entry into the Celestial Temple in "What You Leave Behind," the Q find themselves facing a dilemma that could result in interplanetary catastrophe. Can Picard, Kira and Data retrieve the mysterious Book of the Resurrection before all hell breaks loose on Cardassia?
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the Star Trek universe and everything it encompasses. This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights, and the only profit I gain by it is emotional satisfaction.
PART THREE
CHAPTER NINE
"Damar," Kira whispered. "Are you sure you know where you're going?" She cursed her inattention, and not for the first time since she left Deep Space Nine; she had not kept a close eye on the power cell in her wristlamp, and as a result she had been forced to rely solely on Damar's dubious knowledge of the dark subterranean passage.
The gentle squeeze of his hand around hers reassured her a little, but not much. "Don't worry," he said. "Cardassians can see in the dark, remember?"
"Maybe so," she grumbled as she tripped over an unseen obstacle. "But Bajorans can't."
"We'll be returning to the surface soon, I promise," he said. "There's an access door just a couple hundred meters away."
"What do we do once we get to the surface?"
"If I remember correctly, there's a herd of riding hounds pastured not too far from there. We'll take a couple and ride across the Zanathian Desert to find the Kerdish."
"I thought you said the Kerdish lived underground." She wondered why they had not seen any during their sojourn in this strange clandestine world; the Kerdish must have developed an aptitude for camouflage over centuries of persecution.
"They do, but I guess in my witlessness I overlooked the season. At this time of year they make a pilgrimage to the foot of the Boudat Mountains. It's some sort of holy place in their mythology."
"Lovely," she muttered. "I'm sure they'd be just thrilled to have a Bajoran riding into their camp and demanding to see their holy book."
Damar chuckled softly. "I don't know, Colonel. I think you'll find the Kerdish to be much more accommodating than you give them credit for. They've been on the receiving end of governmental prejudice for centuries."
"All the more reason not to upset them even more." She chose not to remind him that the purpose of her interest in the Kerdish and their holy book was to determine if the book was, in fact, the same one Picard sought and, if so, to destroy it before Picard had a chance to use it against Bajor. Nonetheless, she knew Damar understood her intentions precisely. Odd, she thought, considering his profession of loyalty to the Kerdish, but then nothing about this trip had met her expectations. 'Odd' was hardly the word for it anymore.
Rather than reply, he stopped and craned his neck upward. Then, reaching out with his free hand, he said, "Here we are."
"Where?"
"There's a ladder right in front of you. This is how we get back to the surface."
"I'll believe it when I see it." Kira reached out blindly, waving her arms in front of her and hoping she would not fall flat on her face. Instead, one hand came into contact with a hard, tubular object -- upon closer examination, she realized, a ladder almost identical to the one they had come underground on. "You knew this was here all along?"
"Mm-hmm."
She stepped up on the first rung. "Is this where you intended to bring me before... before you recovered your memory?"
She heard the rustle of fabric as he shrugged. "I guess so. I can't imagine any other reason why I would have brought you down here. Unless, that is," he added with a soft laugh, "I had some simple-minded notion to kidnap you and make you my wife."
Kira stiffened. Coming from anyone else, his comment would not have been funny by any stretch of the imagination. Coming from a Cardassian, however -- and a Cardassian who had her at a complete disadvantage -- the insinuation was chilling, to say the least. "Don't ever make a crack like that again," she said, drawing as far away from him as she could without losing her balance and tumbling from the ladder.
"I'm sorry, Colonel," he said. She could hear genuine remorse in his voice, and relaxed a little. "I shouldn't have said that."
"It's all right, Damar," she said, trying to reassure him. "I know you didn't mean anything. It's just..." She tried not to think of her mother.
"I know," he said sadly. "I forgot for a moment, but I know."
Kira let it pass. There would always be misunderstandings and missteps between her people and his, as long as anyone who remembered the Occupation and the Dominion War still lived. "Forget about it," she said. "I will if you will." She looked upward, straining her eyes in a futile effort to penetrate the darkness. "Are you sure there's a trap door up there?"
"Positive." She felt him climb to stand on the rung beside her. "Better let me go ahead." He brushed past her to ascend the ladder. Once the way was clear, she clambered up behind him.
When the ladder's frame ceased shaking beneath his greater weight, she knew he had stopped climbing, and did the same. "Are we at the top?"
"One moment," he said with a hint of strain in his voice. Beyond him, Kira heard the grinding of metal against metal. Then there was a whoosh of inrushing air and a sliver of light appeared above her head.
"Can I help?"
"Just... about... got it.... There!"
The sliver of light became a broad band streaming directly into Kira's eyes, blinding her with its brilliance. She turned away and shielded her eyes with one hand, holding on to the ladder with the other.
"Damn, it's bright out," Damar said. "Hard to believe it'll be night in just a couple of hours."
"You're kidding me." Still squinting, Kira ascended to the top rung to stand beside him and look out at the acres of sparse, scrubby vegetation that passed for a Cardassian meadow. Far in the distance she could see the hazy skyline of the capital. "Holy Prophets," she said in amazement. "We must've walked at least fifteen kilometers."
"Sounds about right," he said. "Don't forget that more than half the city was completely decimated by the Jem'Hadar. It didn't use to look so far away." He turned at the waist and pointed behind them. "That way's west, so you can see how late in the day it is."
Kira turned to gaze at the glowing disk on its final descent toward the horizon. Surrounding it like demure ladies-in-waiting, three yellow moons in various phases floated in the carnelian sky. "I never realized you had such beautiful sunsets on Cardassia," she said with unfettered honesty and admiration.
She felt his scrutiny, but their close quarters allowed her no room to move away. "There's a lot of beauty to Cardassia you've never seen," he said quietly. Then he looked away. "You should see the sun set in the city -- the pollution in the air turns the sky every imaginable shade of red!"
Pointing toward a vague and irregular outline along the horizon beneath the setting sun, Kira asked, "Is that where we're headed?"
Damar nodded. "Yes, the Boudat Mountains. In between here and there is the Zanathian desert. It'll take us all night to cross it -- that's why we need a hound. They're the best way to cross a desert, barring mechanized transportation."
With a grunt, he heaved himself off the ladder and on to solid ground, then squatted down to extend a hand of assistance. "Let's get going before it gets too dark. It's quite possible that herd of riding hounds is long gone, which means we'll have to find another way to cross the desert."
* * * * *
Although he had better sense than to say so to Kira, Damar was surprised to find the herd pastured in their usual place. Whatever the cause, he was grateful for this small stroke of good fortune. The trip across the Zanathian Desert would be arduous, even with the magnificent hounds to ferry them across.
Kira squatted beside him as he knelt behind a hedge, searching for the largest and hardiest of the herd. "Surely you don't intend for us to ride one of those creatures, do you?"
He turned to see her wide-set eyes grow larger with apprehension, and felt a resurgence of emotions he wished he could ignore. This was neither the time nor the place, never mind his race and his personal history with this woman. On the other hand, she was still here -- on Cardassia, and with him. Nothing wrong with a little wishful thinking. It was not as if he had much else to hope for.
He grinned at her teasingly. "Surely the fearless Colonel Kira Nerys, heroine of the Bajoran and Cardassian resistance, isn't afraid of a little puppy ride?"
"'Little'?" she spluttered. "I've flown suborbital ships smaller than those animals!" Her eyes narrowed. "How are we supposed to catch one anyway?"
He had asked himself the same question. "I don't suppose you've got a replicator in that pack of yours?" She glared at him in reply. "Guess not. So much for a saddle and bridle. How about a rope?" This time, she shook her head.
He sighed. Then an idea came to him, and his mood immediately brightened. "You have salt tablets, don't you?" She was bound to have a substantial supply of salt tablets -- it was the only way Bajorans could cope with the oppressive heat on his planet.
"Of course I do," she said, giving him a strange look. "What do you need them for?"
"Give me four or five," he ordered, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers impatiently. While she searched in her pack for them, he explained, "Hounds love them. Offering salt to a riding hound is like waving a bar of latinum in a Ferengi's face. Once they get a whiff of this stuff, we'll have the pick of the litter to choose from."
"You sure that's such a good idea?" she asked, handing him the required tablets. "These hounds don't look at all tame."
He rose to a half-standing, half-crouching position. "Don't worry about it. We'll be fine. I know what I'm doing." At her unblinking stare he asked, "What? Don't you trust me?"
"Oh, I trust you just fine." She jabbed a finger toward the herd, some of which had already detected the scent of salt and were cautiously moving closer, their muzzles stretched forward, their nostrils quivering in curiosity. "It's them I don't trust."
"Well then," he said as he slowly unfurled himself to his full height and stepped out from behind the hedge, "I guess you'll just have to walk."
"Walk?" He knew she had followed after him, and grinned to himself in mischievous satisfaction. Nothing like a challenge -- from a Cardassian -- to bring out the best in her.
"You've got two choices, Colonel," he said, trying to rein in his laughter. "You can ride across the desert on the back of a riding hound, or you can walk. Or," he added thoughtfully, "you can stay behind."
"The hell I will." Her voice was firm but not angry. "I'll ride, if that's the only option I have. But I'll be damned if I'm going to like it."
Now that the herd was almost within arm's reach, Damar stopped. There were a little more than a dozen, many of them with nursing pups peeking out shyly from behind their mothers' legs. Standing apart from the rest of the herd, a dog watched Damar's movements with wary, distrustful eyes, ready to command the others to flee at the first sign of danger. They all looked sleek, well-fed and at least half-tame. Good enough for him.
He slowly stretched out his arm and opened his hand to reveal the source of the enticing scent. The hounds did not move, instead tensing their powerful leg muscles. However, their necks were extended forward as far as possible without actually coming into contact with him. Despite his eagerness to get moving, Damar knew impatience would ruin his chances. He held perfectly still, waiting for them to make the first move.
A bitch, an enormous hound with a dappled coat and large, intelligent eyes, pushed forward from the back of the herd. Damar took a step or two closer. The other hounds backed away, but the bitch stayed where she was, her ears pricked high and forward, her tail slightly lifted. Damar took another step closer.
The soft velvet of her lips caressed his palm where she gently lifted the tablets out of his hand. Then a wide, wet tongue licked off any remaining residue. While her attention was pleasurably diverted, Damar carefully raised his free hand up toward the crest of her mane, then just as slowly slid it downward toward her withers. Before she had licked the last grain of salt from between his fingers, he had leaped gracefully on to her back.
He felt her muscles go suddenly taut between his legs and wrapped his hands in her scrubby mane, preparing himself for her flight. For a moment, he thought she might actually bolt -- then she relaxed and craned her neck to look around at him, her soulful eyes clearly indicating she was prepared to do his bidding.
Damar almost laughed out loud; even after years of freedom, her training was so deeply ingrained he needed to give her only a moment's notice before socialization overcame nature. He glanced down to see Kira gazing up at him in wonder. Perhaps unconsciously, perhaps not, his ridges swelled with pride. "How did you do that?" she asked, obviously awestruck. "You just --" her hands fumbled in the air as she tried to recreate the scene "-- and you... then you... just like that!"
He shrugged with false nonchalance. "It was nothing. You just have to be able to anticipate their reactions."
"I'll say."
He chuckled, then leaned down, his arm held out. "Need a boost, Colonel?"
She scowled, then rolled her eyes and muttered something inaudible -- a prayer, he guessed -- and grabbed his forearm. When he pulled her up to straddle the hound behind him, even with her assistance her lightness surprised him. There were birds on Cardassia that weighed more! Yet he knew, all too well, that beneath that petite, fragile exterior she had the strength of the finest titanium alloy. He had the memories of a black eye, fractured jaw and several cracked ribs to attest to her strength.
"You ready?" he asked.
He felt her shift behind him, then her arms came around to clasp tightly at his waist. "As ready as I'll ever be."
"Then let's go." In response to a click of his tongue and a gentle nudge from his boot, the hound took off at a long, rolling lope.
* * * * *
Damar stood motionless and watched as the sun sank behind the distant mountain range, the sky above him mutating from orange to pink to pale indigo in a matter of minutes. Above him, Kira shifted herself into a more comfortable position astride their mount.
When Cardassia was still in her prime and Damar was one of her highest-ranking officers, he could have easily acquired a shuttle to ferry Kira across the Zanathian Desert in climate-controlled comfort. On the other hand, were things still as they once had been, he doubted he would have been inclined to help a Bajoran in any way. Since the collapse -- since his defection even -- his attitudes had changed and motorized transports had become available only to the opportunistic thieves and pirates who had stolen Cardassia right out from under his nose. Perhaps, he thought as he turned to tighten the cinch holding their stolen saddle on the hound's broad back, he could reclaim Cardassia and restore her to her former glory. She would not be the same Cardassia, however; the new Cardassia, the Cardassia of his dreams, would welcome change, welcome openness, welcome strangers.
Millennia ago, before his people took to the stars, riding hounds had been bred for the vast deserts that covered most of Cardassia's major landmasses. His people had once been wanderers -- until they were enslaved by the Hebitians and forced to settle in cities and turn away from the uncertainty of the nomadic life -- and the courageous hounds had served them in good stead. Now these majestic beasts were little more than pampered pets, gifts to children from overindulgent parents, although some in the upper classes trained the hounds to hunt or race for sport.
The hound stirred, snorting and pawing impatiently at the ground. "Easy girl," he murmured, raising his hand to scratch beneath her chin. "We'll be going soon enough." He gathered the reins in one hand, wondering at yet another stroke of good fortune: they had come upon an abandoned stable and found a fully-stocked feed and tack room. Coincidence had turned in his favor so many times in the past two days he was beginning to wonder if he was being set up for a fall.
He looked up to the sky and saw Cardassia's three moons, known in myth as the Witches of Korashnavar, shining high and bright in the starless sky. Damar shivered against the sudden chill of the night air and rubbed his hands together beneath the folds of his robe, stolen, like their tack, from the clutches of chance.
The hound tossed her head, causing the metal links on her bridle to jingle tunelessly. She then pushed her muzzle toward him and grabbed a lock of his hair between her velvety flews.
Kira laughed as Damar pulled free to place a foot in the stirrup. "I guess now's as good a time as any," he announced. "Trust me, Colonel, you don't want to be caught out in this desert during daylight hours."
"Won't you be too cold, riding at night?" she asked.
Her concern for his comfort warmed him as much as his thick robe did, but he merely nodded at her, then pulled himself up into the saddle. "I'll be fine. You'll soon find out how well-suited to desert climates these gettle's-hide robes can be."
"No need to tell me," she said, leaning forward to once again wrap her arms around his waist. "I already feel as if I'm sitting before a roaring fire with a hot cup of raktajino in my hands and a wool blanket covering my feet."
He whistled to the hound, noting with pleasure how quickly she responded to his commands. "Hold on to that feeling. You'll be needing it sooner than you think." Then, with a nudge from his boots and a sharp cry, he commanded the hound into a full gallop.
Her broad, flat paws barely marked the soft desert sands as she skimmed across the surface with a grace any starship designer would envy. Damar applied gentle pressure to her flanks and leaned forward over her withers, drawing his legs up and wrapping his hand in her mane. She responded to his unspoken encouragement with a series of loud, joyous barks and a surge forward, her pace quickening with each long-legged step. Kira clung to him for dear life; he could feel her heartbeat hammering fiercely against his back.
Damar could not help grinning. Despite the chill and the throbbing in his head, the feel of the wind rushing past, the tiny grains of sand embedding in his still-tender cheeks, and, above all, the circle of Kira's arms around him and her warm breath in his ear, invigorated him, reminding him that he had once again cheated death. Now that he had been given yet another chance, the time had come for him to stop cheating life.
* * * * *
The first sign of trouble came when a bolt of lethal photonic energy streaked past Kira, jangling the adornments on her earring. "Damar..." she called in his ear, her voice audibly strained.
"I know!" he said, jerking downward when another phaser bolt hissed overhead. "Hang on."
The warning was unnecessary; she had already felt the hound's powerful muscles coiling beneath her, preparing for a surge in speed. Kira tightened her grip around Damar, pressing her body closer to him as he bent low over the hound's withers and urged it to run faster.
The ground flew past. Wind burned Kira's eyes, wrenching moisture from her tear ducts. All she could hear was the steady pounding of the hound's paws against the sand and her own heartbeat hammering in her chest.
A third phaser bolt flashed past, then a fourth and a fifth. Kira's heart sank. The discharges were coming from different directions; whoever they were, the assailants had them surrounded. Even as Damar drove the hound away from one unknown danger, he led them into another.
She chanced a look behind her, hoping she might see one of their attackers approaching. All she saw were several indistinct shapes, mounted on riding hounds as she and Damar were, racing toward them beneath the first glimmers of dawn. She turned her head to the right, then the left, and saw more riders. Escape was futile. Their only hope was to stand their ground and fight -- to the death, if that was the Prophets' will.
"Damar," she said, almost choking as the wind rushing past forced her breath back down her throat, "slow down. We can't outrun them all. There's too many of them."
Almost immediately she felt the hound slow to a canter, then gradually reduce its pace to a walk. Kira ached with pity for the animal; she could feel its exhaustion as its sides expanded rapidly in an effort to regain control of its breathing. Thick, yellow foam covered its muzzle and its head drooped so low Kira thought Damar might topple forward over its neck. She hoped the animal would not drop dead beneath them.
Damar reined the hound to a stop. "We'll let them come to us," he said.
They did not have to wait long; in a matter of minutes the shapes on the horizon coalesced into a band of six or eight riders. Almost as soon as Kira could see them well enough to distinguish features, they slowed, then divided into two groups that diverged in a wide band to encircle the threesome. Then, apparently obeying some unseen signal or predetermined plan, they tightened the noose.
The riders, their mounts blowing great clouds of steam into the chilly dawn air, took up stationary positions around them. They were visibly well-armed, each rider carrying a phaser rifle across his lap, a pistol holstered at each hip, and knives strapped to knee-high boots. One of them also had a vicious-looking split-bladed saber sheathed behind his back. This was no simple scouting party; whoever they were, these riders were trained to kill. Kira's only question was, what were they waiting for?
Kira thought Damar's demeanor was unusually calm, in light of their situation. Not that she expected him to panic -- he had been too well-trained for such recklessness -- but she could not help noticing the absence of tension in his shoulders. In fact, he had completely dropped the hound's reins to let his hands rest placidly on his thighs. Was this some sort of ploy of his, an attempt to disarm the outriders? If so, she wished he had filled her in. For her part, she was prepared to take down any one of the riders who dared to lay a hand on her.
Once the outriders were in place, the Cardassian wielding the saber -- presumably the leader -- coaxed his mount forward until he was little more than a meter from Damar and Kira. Then he guided his hound in a tight circle around them, studying them from all angles with a critical, appraising eye. Throughout the stranger's examination they remained silent, although Kira's back throbbed with the discomfort and resentment she felt. All she could do was glare fiercely at the rider's brazenness, but she knew her silent hatred carried no weight. Her fingers itched for a phaser.
At last the head outrider finished his investigation and returned to his position before them. With a gravity and majesty of movement that in anyone else might have passed as mocking, he returned the massive rifle that had been resting across his thighs to its holster and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Then, finally, his mouth cracked open, allowing the dawning sunlight to glint off his teeth. "I thought I told you never to set foot on Kerdish lands again," he snarled.
Kira stiffened. If they were not so thoroughly outgunned, she would have reached for her phaser. Damar seemed unmoved, however. His voice far more even than anything Kira could have mustered at that point, he said, "You told me never to come back unless I was dead."
The outrider's eyes narrowed. At some unseen signal from him, his hound sidestepped closer, affording him the chance to lean forward and peer at Damar. "You don't look so dead to me."
Kira was a bundle of nerves, a lit fuse about to explode with destructive force. Damar, on the other hand, was as calm as a spring-fed lagoon. "You never said anything about my resurrection," he said.
The outrider jerked back on the reins when his mount leaned over to nibble at the other hound's neck, causing both animals to shy away. For a moment, Kira feared losing her seat. Then Damar managed to regain control, and once again both hounds and riders stood opposite each other.
"Why didn't you 'resurrect' her too, brother?" the outrider asked, his voice quavering. "Hm? Why are you the only one so honored?" He shifted his phaser rifle until the muzzle was aimed directly at Damar's abdomen. "Why are you still alive, while my sister still lies in some unmarked grave hundreds of kilometers away?"
Sitting so close to him, Kira felt the wave of sadness and regret wash over Damar, almost engulfing him. She had been there when he learned of his family's execution; she remembered how deeply their loss had affected him, and how his desire to avenge their deaths had spurred him finally to stand firmly on the side of righteousness. She also remembered, with profound contrition, how she had mocked his grief, and how soon she had been forced to swallow her scorn.
A deep, shuddering sigh racked Damar's body. Then he raised his head to look up at the outrider and said, "If it would bring her back, then I would gladly sacrifice my own life."
With a blur of movement, the outrider had unsheathed his saber, swung it over his head and pointed it at the center of Damar's throat. Kira froze. The right amount of pressure could drive the twin blades through Damar's neck and straight into her own, killing them both with a single thrust. "Damar..." she whispered.
Ignoring her, the outrider leaned slightly against the pommel of his weapon. "Well, then, why don't we see just how devoted to her you really are." His upper lip lifted in a sneer. "The Tellers will tell my tale for many generations, because I killed an outsider to avenge my sister's death."
Kira felt the gurgle of fear in the pit of Damar's stomach. "You'll be told for what you are, Dorek," he said. "A coward who executed two unarmed guests. Is that how you want the Tellers to remember you?"
The outrider stared hard at Damar, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his cheek trembled. Then, his movements as rapid and graceful as before, he pulled back and sheathed his saber. Feeling Damar's exhalation of relief, Kira released her own inheld breath.
She immediately regretted her action when the sound of her sigh caught the outrider's attention and he turned to stare at her. His gaze lingered too long for her comfort, and she looked away. Her face grew hot at the sound of his deep, throaty laugh. "Since when did you start consorting with aliens, brother?" he asked Damar. Kira's fists clenched.
In direct contrast to her ire -- not to mention all that had just passed between them -- Damar gave a hearty laugh and reached out to grasp the man's proffered arm. "Brother!" he cried. "It is good to see you again. It's been a long time."
"Too long," the outrider agreed with a toothy smile. "Our hearth has seemed less warm without you." He leaned forward and whispered loudly, "Although I doubt some of our kinsmen miss your propaganda as much as I do." He leaned back and released his grip on Damar's forearm to gesture toward his face. "It looks like you have new tales to tell. What the hell happened to you?"
"Consequences of being a revolutionary," Damar said tersely. After a long silence, he asked, "Kormet?"
The outrider nodded. "As domineering as ever. And expecting you... and your companion." He trained a leering gaze on Kira, causing her to wish once more for a weapon, for deterrence if nothing else.
Before she could protest, Damar said, "Don't even think about it. Colonel Kira is well out of your league."
"Colonel Kira?" he asked, grinning widely. "My, my, brother. You've always moved about amongst the elite, but what did we do to deserve a personal visitation from such an august personage?"
Kira felt Damar's shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. Rather than unleash her irritation on him, she asked the outrider, "What do you mean we're expected? How did you know we were coming?"
"She's right," Damar said. "How did you know we were coming -- and don't tell me that the ancestors whispered it into Kormet's ear."
At that, the outrider threw back his head and laughed uproariously, his amusement resounding off the mountain walls Kira now saw, in the encroaching sunlight, were only a few kilometers distant. Once he had contained his laughter, the Cardassian grinned at Damar and spat against the ground. "Let's just say we have a couple of your friends in our custody at the moment."
Damar craned his neck around to look at Kira. "Do you think--?"
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Commander Data?" she asked the outrider. "One a Human, the other an android with gold skin?" The outrider nodded. "You haven't hurt them, have you? If word of this gets back to Starfleet --"
"Colonel," Damar said, "if Captain Picard and Commander Data are guests of the Kerdish, I can assure you they are perfectly safe."
"You'll forgive me if I find that difficult to believe," she snapped. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "After what I just witnessed, I'll be amazed if any of us lives to see the sun set."
The outrider guided his mount closer to them, so he could address Kira directly. "You'll have to excuse that small display of unpleasantness between Damar and myself," he said with unconvincing sincerity. "I think you'll be much safer riding into camp with me." He extended a hand toward her.
"I'd sooner walk barefoot in the middle of the day," she said.
"Colonel!" Damar said, although his tone suggested amusement more than reproof. "Forgive her behavior. You know how Bajorans can be."
"Indeed," the outrider said with a smile. "Even so, you'd better have a good reason for bringing her here. It's bad enough we've had to dodge our own people for centuries, now we'll have to contend with offworlders poking their noses into our business."
Damar grunted. "She's looking for something. That's the same reason Picard and Data are here. We got split up down under."
The outrider's eyes narrowed and his mount pranced nervously, disturbing the other hound in kind. "What are they looking for? Or do I want to know?" He looked at Kira, his head cocked to one side. "Oh, no. She's not after the--?"
Damar nodded. "I can't be positive, but from what she's told me, it sounds like that's exactly what they're after."
"You know Kormet will never agree to it."
"I know. But we had to try."
The outrider snorted in reply, agitating his mount once again. He quickly calmed the beast by pulling up on the reins and stroking its flank. The hound's ears rotated back at the sound of his murmurs, then whickered once and grew still. "Do you realize what this could mean for us? Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Rather than wait for a reply, the outrider simply gave Damar, then Kira, another long, hard stare, then whistled to his mount and turned it around in a tight circle, spurring it to a gallop in the same instant. Without a word, the others followed suit, leaving Damar and Kira alone. Confused, Kira asked, "What do we do now?"
Damar reached forward to gather up the forgotten reins, then slapped their hound on the rump. As it took off after the others with a loud bark he called behind him, "Follow them. The rest is up to Kormet. We can't do anything else until we see her."
CHAPTER TEN
Data was the first to spot the cloud of dust that heralded the riders' approach. "I believe they are returning, Captain," he said.
Picard strained his eyes, but saw nothing other than an endless expanse of pale browns and oranges rising up to meet another endless expanse of pale browns and oranges. "Are the colonel and Legate Damar with them?" he asked.
"They are too far away to tell," Data said. They continued to stare at the horizon.
After several minutes, the dust cloud entered Picard's field of vision. He looked at Data for confirmation. "Yes, I do believe Colonel Kira and Legate Damar are with the riders," he finally said.
Picard felt a measure of relief, and relaxed his posture slightly in response to it. How he and Data and the colonel and Legate Damar had become so widely scattered was a puzzle with no easy solution presenting itself. He could not remember any branches leading off from the main underground corridor. How had he and Data managed to pass them by -- or was this another one of Q's sleights of hand? Anxious for their arrival, he trotted down to the cliff base, Data close behind him.
The brash young man they had first encountered at the point of his double-bladed saber upon emerging from the underground city galloped past, slowing just enough to throw Picard a jaunty salute before entering the gorge that led to the Kerdish encampment. The youths he called his Companions followed, each one nodding gravely as he passed Picard. Finally, bringing up the rear on a riding hound that looked to be on its last legs, Colonel Kira and Legate Damar straggled in.
"Colonel, are you all right?" Picard asked, stepping forward to assist her, if needed.
Kira climbed off the hound's back and jumped to the ground, untangling herself from the heavy cloak that covered her. She was caked in dust and sweat, but looked otherwise unharmed. "I'm fine, Captain," she said, looking around nervously as she ran her fingers through her damp hair. "How about you? They haven't hurt you in any way, have they?"
"Who?" Picard was momentarily puzzled. Then he realized who she meant by 'they.' "The Kerdish? No, not at all, I assure you."
"I told you the Kerdish wouldn't let any harm come to them," her companion said, dismounting to stand beside her.
Picard studied the young man, recognizing him for the first time now that his face was no longer half-hidden by scar tissue. As best as he could reckon, Cardassia's former leader was less than forty years old -- not even middle age by Cardassian or Human standards. Yet, to look at the shadows flitting behind his eyes, he had already endured several lifetimes worth of heartache. So this is the legacy of men like Madred, Picard thought.
"I believe I owe you a proper introduction," he said to the Cardassian, extending his hand in greeting.
The young man hesitated, then accepted his hand with a wary smile. "None is necessary, Captain. I know who you are. But... how did you--?"
"Let's just say I have friends in high places," Picard said. He saw the Cardassian and Kira exchange a look and a shrug. He wondered what had passed between them during their long time alone. Friendship between Bajorans and Cardassians? Not impossible, but certainly unexpected, given Colonel Kira's past. But, then, he knew nothing of Damar's past. Perhaps the colonel knew something Picard did not.
"Tell me something, Legate," he said as they trudged through the gorge, Damar leading the exhausted hound with a loose grip on the reins. Perched on the opposite bluff high above them, a sentry kept a watchful eye out for oncomers.
"Please, just Damar. Legate Damar died with Cardassia three years ago. I have no desire to bring him back to life."
Picard understood how Damar felt. He had often felt the same way: after he had been assimilated by the Borg... after he had been tortured by Madred... after Q had forced him to relive the defining moment in his life.... He had buried 'Captain' Picard more times than he cared to count. "My deepest apologies," he said with almost fatherly sympathy and affection. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I understand you have some connection to these people. Is that true?"
Damar nodded. "Yes, I've known the Kerdish for many years."
Picard could barely contain his curiosity. "How so? Obviously they're not part of mainstream Cardassian society -- whereas you, obviously, are."
Damar gave him a strange look. "You, obviously, know a lot more about Cardassia and her people than most aliens."
"The leader -- Danal Kormet -- explained a little about her people to me last night," Picard said.
Damar stopped and turned, his eyes bright. "Kormet? You've seen her?"
The haste and tenor of his response set Picard aback. "Well, yes," he said, unsure if that was the right answer or not. "We --" he swept his arm around to indicate all four of them "-- we're her guests for as long as we wish to stay."
Damar turned back and resumed walking, his pace quickening with each step. When he was out of earshot, Kira said in a low voice, "His late wife was Kerdish."
"Ah," Picard said, inclining his head. Her cryptic response still did not explain how a career military officer came to be affiliated with these people, but it did at least explain the depth of his connection to them. If the Kerdish could indeed help Picard find the Book of the Resurrection, as he suspected they could, given Q's active and personal interest in the success of this mission, then Damar would be a useful and welcome intermediary.
The remaining threesome rounded a bend in the gorge and came upon a broad, fertile valley completely protected by the forbidding rugged peaks of the Boudat Mountains. At the near end, the herds of riding hounds the Kerdish used as transportation and beasts of burden grazed freely on the thick vegetation that carpeted the valley. Beyond them, a dozen white-peaked tents had been pitched on the banks of a small stream fed from deep within the highlands. From this distance, Picard could see the Kerdish milling around the encampment and smelled the smoke of their cookfires.
It was not really a camp, nor was it their true seasonal residence; as elsewhere, they chose to inhabit a network of caverns created in the west-facing bluffs when, over the course of millions of years, water hollowed out dwelling-sized pockets in the vast limestone deposits found here. The tents erected aboveground were merely temporary, to give the Kerdish a place to escape the sun's oppressive heat while they conducted the business of their pilgrimage. At night, or so Kormet had told him, they gathered to hear the legends of their ancestors told in much the same way the first storytellers recounted the legends of Achilles and Odysseus, of Gilgamesh and Jacob and Sigurd and Arthur.
Ahead of them, Damar, no longer encumbered by the hound, sprinted toward the camp. Picard was tempted to follow him, but, understanding that this was a reunion of sorts for the young man, withheld his eagerness.
At the sound of Kira's astonished cry, Picard remembered his own awe and amazement the first time he saw this scene, when Dorek and his Companions had escorted Picard and Data to Kormet's tent. In all his years of traveling from one end of the quadrant to the other, in all the unimaginably diverse alien civilizations he had encountered, despite all he knew -- or thought he knew -- and understood about the Cardassians, nothing in his experience could have prepared him for the Kerdish. This was certainly not Madred's vision of the ideal Cardassian society. Picard could not even begin to imagine what Kira, with her limited exposure to Cardassian civilization, must be thinking. He turned to her. "Colonel, did you have any idea--?"
She seemed incapable of articulating speech at first as she stared all around her, trying to take everything in at once. Finally, she managed to ask, "These are the Kerdish?"
Before he could answer, a tall, slim figure emerged from a large tent on the outskirts of the camp and approached them. Picard recognized the man as Dorek. Apparently, so did Kira; she stopped to slide her field pack from her shoulders and reached inside.
Instinctively guessing her intentions, Picard grasped her arm in an attempt to stop her. "Colonel," he said.
She shook him off and pulled out a Bajoran pistol -- not the regulation Starfleet phaser she had carried before -- and activated the 'kill' setting.
"Colonel," Picard repeated with greater urgency. "Nothing's going to happen to us. The Kerdish have made it quite clear that they are more than happy to help."
"You can believe that fantasy all you want," she growled, holstering her pistol, then slipping her arms through the straps and rising to adjust the pack, "but I refuse to be so naïve."
"Colonel," Data asked, "were you and Damar threatened out in the desert?"
Kira nodded, then hastened to add, "That's not what worries me, though. Whatever grudge he --" she nodded toward the oncoming figure "-- holds against Damar is none of my business. What is my business is that Damar thinks he knows where we can find that book."
"The book?" Picard asked. He felt his jaw drop open. "The Book of the Resurrection."
She nodded. "That's why we came here." She leaned forward and whispered, "It's a Kerdish holy book." She took a step closer and lowered her voice even more. "Captain, it's here."
"It's here? Where? How do you know?" He had so many questions he hardly knew where to begin. A Kerdish holy book? That made no sense. Q had said nothing of the sort when he first solicited Picard -- but, then, neither had he said anything about Cardassian nomads. Q had a lot to answer for.
"I don't know exactly where the book is," Kira explained. "I can't even say for certain that it really is here. However, if Damar is right...." Her voice faded away.
"If Damar is right...." he repeated. If Damar was right, then the Kerdish were undoubtedly not as eager to help as they seemed. From now on, they would have to be very careful about what the revealed of their quest.
Picard looked up to see that Dorek come to a stop and was waiting impatiently for their attention. "Captain," he said with a broad, toothy smile at Picard's raised eyebrow. "Commander, Colonel --" he stressed Kira's title. "Danal Kormet asked me to invite you to her tent. Please, come. Now that you are all reunited, she is eager to hear your tale."
* * * * *
Q perched on the edge of the cliff, dangling his legs dozens of meters above the sheltered canyon where the Kerdish tribesmen had pitched their tents, and watched Picard and Kira head for a nearby tent, Data bringing up the rear.
He anticipated, rather than heard, the slight attention-getting cough behind him. "Not you again?" he sighed.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt your idyllic musing," was her sarcastic response, "but this is urgent."
The tension in her voice compelled him to turn and look up at his mate. "Am I being recalled?" he asked gently, worried by her pallor and the deep lines around her mouth and eyes.
Q shook her head. "No. Worse."
"What?" He suspected he already knew.
"It's the P, Q. They've sent someone to stop you."
He dropped his chin to massage his forehead with his fingertips. He had anticipated this, but had nevertheless hoped to forestall it a few more days. "Dare I ask who?"
He already knew, but her delicate snort confirmed his foreknowledge. "You can probably guess. They've sent Sisko."
Q turned away from his mate to stare thoughtfully at the miniature drama unfolding below. "Then we must act quickly," he said with conviction. "From now on, all bets are off. I will do whatever I have to, to make sure Picard succeeds." He paused, understanding as only an immortal omnipotent entity could the cosmic ramifications of what he was about to swear to, swallowed, then continued hoarsely, "No matter what the cost."
The slight pressure of her hand on his shoulder reminded him why he loved her so much, and he reached up to entwine his fingers with hers. "I'll be with you every step of the way," she promised. "No matter what the cost."
* * * * *
Outside, the fierce sun had already begun to bleach the sky white-hot as it continued its circadian ascent. Columns of evaporating dew further mired the air in a gauzy, diaphoretic haze. Inside Kormet's tent, however, it was blissfully cool and dark. Picard perched on a pile of plump cushions opposite the old woman, Kira to his right, Data behind them. Damar, he saw, was seated next to the woman so closely their shoulders touched. Who are these people? he wondered yet again.
Since he had already met Kormet, Picard assumed the responsibility of introducing the two formidable women. "Danal Kormet," he begun, bowing his head in greeting, "please allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Colonel Kira Nerys. Colonel, this is Danal Kormet, the leader of the Kerdish tribes."
"Kormet," she said, lowering her chin with unexpected grace and diplomacy. "It's an honor to meet you."
"Not half as honored as it is to meet you!" the crone cackled gaily, her voice as high and cracked with age as her teeth were black. She peered at Kira through brown eyes narrowed by squinting, a habit that made the ridges around her eyes and across her temples even more prominent. "It's not often I get to meet the source of some of my wildest stories."
"Kormet is a Kerdish storyteller," Damar explained with a smile. The old woman reached over to pat him on his arm.
"You're a storyteller?" Kira asked, amusement and vanity evident in her voice. Picard saw her glance quickly at the grinning Dorek, seated on Kormet's other side, then look away. "And you tell stories about me?" This time, she smirked at Damar. "I suppose I have you to thank?"
He laughed. "Don't look at me! Kormet's imagination far outstrips the truth."
Picard could not help laughing with the others at the elderly woman's outraged but good-natured splutter. For reasons he could not yet define, he felt at ease in the presence of this woman. Perhaps it was the lively eyes that seemed to take in everything at a single glance, or the simplicity in her hair and attire, so unlike most of the Cardassian women Kira had known, or the quick, agile mind that sensed exactly where to draw the line between teasing and mockery.
The object of his admiration leaned forward on her knees, her mirth evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. "Now that you are all here," she said, "perhaps you can explain what brought you on this long journey." She steepled her fingers before her chest and pointed them at Picard. "What are you seeking?"
After what Kira had told him, Picard was hesitant to respond. He did not want to reveal too much about the true nature of their mission, but he knew Kormet would see through any clumsy subterfuge. He glanced at Kira, who nodded encouragement in return. After another moment's hesitation, he finally said, "We're actually hoping to learn more about ancient Cardassian history. We know so little about --"
"How ancient?" Kormet interrupted. "How far back do you want to go?"
"Well --" he hedged "-- how far back does your history go?"
A ripple of amusement stirred through the tent. Although her expression remained stern, even Kormet's eyes twinkled. "How far back, indeed!" she said. "You found our ancient capital. Isn't fifty millennia old enough for you?"
"But," Data said, causing Picard to cringe inwardly, "the evidence indicates that the underground city predates the infusion of Cardassian culture by several thousand years."
"What evidence would that be?" Dorek asked, his expressive face all hard lines and angles.
"The iconography on the crypts," he said. "The skeletal evidence itself, in fact, suggests that Cardassian civilization is comparatively new." Picard wanted to find someplace to hide.
The Cardassian leaped to his feet, his neck ridges darkening with fury. "You desecrated our ancestors' graves?" he roared. "Who do you think you are, going where you do not belong?"
"Sit down, Dorek," Kormet said. "They cannot be expected to understand." She stared at Picard. "You should not have opened the crypt. However, since you did, in fact, desecrate our dead in your quest for information, you should perhaps have done a more thorough examination, so you could avoid insulting the living."
Picard saw Dorek tensing out of the corner of his eye. "How so?" he asked.
"Had you taken the time to broaden your investigation and remove those blinders you are so fond of calling 'perceptions,'" she said, "you would have found that the influx of Hebitian culture came late in the course of our civilization, and was relatively short-lived. However, because the Hebitians enslaved our people and made such a profound impact on the development and evolution of our history and culture, not to mention our very appearance, it is widely and erroneously assumed that the reverse was, in fact, what took place."
Picard felt about four centimeters tall. "But... but... I don't understand."
"Of course you don't," she said without accusation or contempt. "You're Human, and that binds you to a specific set of subjective perceptions. Because you -- and you, too, Colonel," she added, nodding toward Kira, "know our people only as aggressors, you assume that is all we have ever been -- all we are capable of being."
"But Central Command --"
"Of course Central Command promotes that image!" Dorek said. "It serves their purpose to portray our ancestors as fierce and warlike, as Klingons with brains. Do you think we could have survived if the people Central Command constantly waged war against discovered we were actually peaceful desert nomads?"
"'Peaceful desert nomads'?" Kira scoffed, rocking back and forth on her knees. "You've got the 'desert' part right, but I'll kiss a Ferengi before I'll fall for the 'peaceful' part!"
"Colonel!" Picard barked, furious and ashamed at her outburst.
"Oh, shut up," she shot back. "If there's one other thing they're right about, it's how your Human morals blind you to everything you can't stuff --" she molded her hands in the air, shaping the images she tried to articulate "-- into perfect little square jewel boxes!"
Before Picard could rise to his defense, Damar stepped into the fray, even rising to approach Kira and squat before her. "What about you, Colonel?" he asked quietly, intently studying her. "Do you think you're immune to the same preconceptions?"
Kira fumed in silence for a long time, her angry gaze never wavering. Then, finally, she said, "No. I don't. But I have a reason to think of Cardassians as aggressors -- you invaded my planet and tried to ruin it!"
"I invaded Bajor?" He clasped his hands between his knees, pointing the index fingers toward her. "Do you blame me for the Occupation?"
"No," she said, her anger abating. "That's ridiculous, I know you aren't old enough to have served on Bajor. But --"
"But what? But I'm Cardassian, therefore just like the Cardassians who invaded Bajor?" Kira's jaw clenched, but she refused to reply.
"What he means, Colonel," Kormet said, "is that all you know about our people is what Central Command meticulously arranged for you to know. The Occupation was a military exercise under the auspices of the Obsidian Order. It had nothing to do with Cardassia as we have known it for thousands of years."
"And the Federation-Cardassian War? The Maquis conflict?" Picard asked.
"Also orchestrated by Central Command," Dorek explained. "What you suffered at the hands of Gul Madred is no different than what many of us suffered for protesting his barbarism." He stood and crossed to Picard, then pulled away the collar of his tunic to reveal several centimeters of a brutally purplish scar that, Picard guessed, covered most of his chest. "A man not much different than Madred gave me this just for being Kerdish."
"What about him, then?" Kira asked, pointing at Damar. "He's as anchored to Central Command as they come -- Prophets, he was Gul Dukat's protégé! Why trust him?"
Both Dorek and Damar turned to look at Kormet. Although Picard could not see their faces, he did see the shadow of grief that crossed hers. Moving as one, both men rose and returned to her side.
"We were plebes at the Cardassian Military Academy," Damar began. "That's where we first became friends."
"For a long time I didn't want to trust him," the other continued. "I knew too well the consequences of revealing my heritage, and Damar seemed to be too much a by-the-book soldier to confide in."
"What happened to change your mind?" Picard asked.
Damar grinned while Dorek scowled. "My sister is what happened," Dorek finally said.
"She came to visit him one weekend, when most of our class had been given leave."
"As usual, we were restricted to grounds for failing to keep our marks high enough," Dorek explained.
"Not that it mattered. Dorek had a 'friend' in town he couldn't stay away from, and so I was alone in our quarters when she literally climbed in through the window." A wistful expression crossed his face even as Dorek rolled his eyes.
"As you can imagine," Dorek said with mock sourness, "keeping my heritage a secret was an impossibility after that. Damar hounded me every waking moment -- and even a few sleeping ones, too -- trying to learn more about her."
"What did you do?" Data asked.
"I bound him to a blood oath," Dorek said. "I made him swear never to reveal anything he learned about my people. By then, I knew Damar well enough to know he would never violate a promise sealed in blood -- he's far too idealistic. The Academy does all it can to freeze idealism out of its cadets, but Damar's is too deeply ingrained. He would --"
"Sacrifice a promising career out of loyalty to a beloved mentor?" Kira asked, raising her eyebrow.
Dorek snorted. Damar looked intensely uncomfortable. "Something like that, yes." Kira nodded, as though she already knew the rest.
"I never met a more passionate defender of Kerdish life after that," Dorek said. "You'd have thought he'd been born one of us. Whenever one of the inquisitors used us as an example of everything a 'good' Cardassian should abhor, Damar would be in his face, calling him a blind, cowardly fool. The other cadets took to calling him 'dish-lover after a while."
"What was that song?" Damar asked.
Dorek chuckled. "'The 'Dish and the Spoon'." Both men laughed. Then Dorek sighed. "Damar forced me to re-examine my own prejudices. Until I met him, I never allowed myself to see Cardassians as anything other than brainwashed automatons, all marching in perfect lock-step to Central Command's tune. Thanks to Damar, I learned to broaden my perceptions. Until he was assigned to Dukat's staff, that is. Then it was as if we'd never met." Picard saw Damar lower his head in visible shame.
"For a long time, after he had fallen under Dukat's influence, we thought we had lost him for good," Kormet said, resting her hand on his shoulder. "We feared Central Command had finally managed to destroy his idealism."
"We feared he would eventually betray us to Central Command," Dorek said. "Then, five years ago, I was arrested on suspicion of treason." He looked at Picard. "You can imagine what they put me through."
"Only too well," Picard said grimly.
Dorek nodded. "They would have killed me, too, if Damar hadn't used his new promotion to secure my release."
"And your sister?" Kira asked.
Dorek scowled again. "They were united three days after he escorted me home."
"What about the Dominion?" Data asked. "Did they not consider the Kerdish a threat?"
Kormet shook her head. "From what I've been told, we were considered more of a threat to the Cardassian infrastructure."
"So they left you alone," Picard said.
"Yes," Damar said. "It wasn't too hard to convince Weyoun how much I feared the Kerdish's corrupting influence." A slow, sly grin spread across his face. "As long as he thought they were more of a threat to Cardassian sovereignty alive than dead, he made sure the Jem'Hadar stayed away from them. And I made sure my men stayed away as well."
"And now?" Kira asked. "What will you do now?" Picard could not tell if her question was intended for Damar or the Kerdish.
"For now?" Dorek asked. "For now, we do as the rest of Cardassia: we rebuild."
Kormet reached over to clasp Damar's hand, her face glowing with joy. "And we welcome home our prodigal son."
PART FIVE