Cathedral by Michael Mangels (ebook reader color screen txt) 📕

turned back to her. “Is this why you came to see me today? To spout the polemical blasphemies of Ohalu?”

“No,” she said, her eyes clear and placid. “I am not here to convince you to bless the Ohalavaru.”

Yevir recalled having heard that name bandied about in derogatory fashion by some of his fellow vedeks. The translation of the ancient High Bajoran word struck him as ironic. “‘Ohalu’s truthseekers’?”

“Yes. That is the name of our sect.” She paused, holding her hand palm outward in a placating gesture. “As I said, I’m not here to debate theologies, or even to convince you to respect our faith. But I have come to you to ask for your help.”

Yevir sat down in his chair, looking past the jevonite statue at the woman. “With what?”

“I believe—we believe that Colonel Kira Nerys has been done a great injustice by the Vedek Assembly. In your own address to the Bajoran people, you said that we needed to reevaluate the old ways and seek new answers to old questions. To keep our minds open. Kira is guilty of nothing but allowing the Bajoran people the chance to question their faith. To decide on their own which answers they will accept…whether those answers come from the Prophets or from themselves.”

Yevir was sorely tempted to interrupt her again, but forced himself to sit quietly and allow her to continue. “As you may recall, it was Kira who saved my life, my husband’s life, and the life of my child. And all the others who had followed Gul Dukat to Empok Nor. Afterward she provided us with more knowledge—and helped us all reevaluate our decisions of faith. Now she has merely done the same thing for Bajor as a whole.”

“Comparing your decision to abandon the Pahwraiths to the questioning of the Prophets isn’t likely to win me over,” Yevir said, unable to keep the frost from his tone.

“One learns only by asking questions,” Mika said, almost serene. Yevir recognized the words as one of Solis’s most oft-quoted aphorisms. “One only grows by seeking answers. Some of those who have read the prophecies of Ohalu have rejected them; Ohalu’s answers did not suit them, and their faith in the Prophets became stronger as a result. But others have found that they want to continue their spiritual explorations.” She paused for a moment, appearing to search for the right words. “Even the Emissary questioned openly who and what the Prophets are, and what Their role in Bajor’s past, present, and future really might be.”

Wearying of the debate, Yevir rubbed his forefinger and thumb over his nose ridge, closing his eyes for a moment. Finally, he said, “I will not rescind Kira’s Attainder. Whether or not the questions Ohalu poses are valid is not a factor in the Assembly’s decision. And Kira’s decision to disseminate Ohalu’s heresies without regard to their effect on Bajor’s religious community—especially now—is unforgivable.”

Mika frowned. “You must hate her very much, Vedek Yevir. I am disappointed.”

“No, child,” he said. Ever since Kira’s act of betrayal, Yevir had searched his soul carefully for such unworthy motivations. He had found none. Indeed, he had agonized over the Attainder decision. “Though I can understand how it might appear that way. I know the Attainder must be personally devastating to her.”

“Then surely you can find it in your heart to forgive her.”

“Actions such as hers are beyond my authority to forgive. Kira has taken it upon herself to affect Bajor’s spiritual well-being—without training, without warning, and without official sanction. To be blunt, this makes her simply too dangerous to keep within the faith.”

He expected Mika to react angrily to his plainspoken argument, as the Emissary’s wife had done when he had rebuffed her attempt to discuss lifting Kira’s Attainder. But instead, Mika merely seemed more resolute. “I understand,” she said. “I had to try. Still, there are others in the Assembly who may be less…inflexible about their Attainder votes.” She stood, readying herself and her sleeping child to leave. “Vedek Yevir, I hope that one day the Prophets will lead you to the forgiveness of Kira, and to Ohalu’s truth.”

Before he could react, Mika’s child began to fuss, pushing a small hand out of the robes in which it had been wrapped. The hand was chubby and slightly gray in color, its skin rough and leathery. From where Yevir sat, an absurd juxtaposition of the jevonite figure with the child made the baby’s arm appear to be growing out of the statue’s side.

Yevir stood bolt upright. “May I see your child, Mika?”

Mika’s eyes narrowed in response to his swift action, but she obliged him by stepping closer and sweeping the robes away from the child’s sleep-crinkled face. Yevir could see that the boy seemed larger than before, a toddler who looked to be about a year old, rather than an infant.

Yevir stepped to the side of his desk and reached out to touch the boy’s face. His skin had the same grayish cast as his limbs, as well as another, somewhat unexpected trait. On the slumbering boy’s nose was a fully developed set of Bajoran ridges, while his brow and forehead were framed by the raised scales of a Cardassian. An elevated oval on his forehead held a depression in its center, in the shape of an elegantly crafted spoon. The boy’s eyes, which had just opened, were of a crystalline black and seemed to watch the vedek with an intensity that matched Yevir’s own.

The vedek’s hand traced the ridges on the child’s forehead, and the boy grasped his finger, chattering happily. Yevir found himself smiling in wonder. Looking up, he saw that Mika was smiling as well.

The child is at peace. He has erased the tension we both felt, bridged our two worlds.

Yevir’s mind raced. He stepped back, gesturing toward the door. “Thank you, Mika. Your son is beautiful. I will consider your words. If you will consider mine as well.”

As the young woman turned to leave, she said, “I consider the words