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- Author: Michael Mangels
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Since the end of the Occupation, Capril had had nothing to do with violence of any kind. I must gain control over this situation, he thought, knowing that a general melee could erupt at any moment. While the heretics were clearly outnumbered, violence of any sort in the temple was unthinkable, regardless of the provocation; if it were to occur now, it could also generate sympathy for the Ohalavaru. Though Capril knew that something decisive had to be done, his feet seemed to have become rooted to the floor.
Desperate, Capril shouted over the rising tumult. His voice reverberated loudly from the vaulted temple ceilings. “Children of the Prophets! Violence here will solve nothing! Turn your passions toward the Prophets, not toward these intruders!”
Capril saw First Minister Shakaar and Second Minister Asarem in the back of the hall, gesturing to several security officers. To his discomfort, he realized that one of the incoming officers was Ro Laren, the woman who purposely wore her earring on the wrong ear, in the manner of the now thankfully extinct Pah-wraith cult. He wondered momentarily whose side she would take as she and her deputies dispersed through the increasingly agitated crowd.
Ro and Sergeant Etana were having quick cups of raktajino near the front door of Quark’s when Ro’s combadge chimed, followed a second later by the voice of Corporal Hava. “All available officers, report to the shrine. It sounds like there’s a confrontation of some sort brewing there.”
In the shrine?
Ro got up so quickly that the raktajino spilled on her hand and onto the table. She shot a quick guilty glance toward one of the dabo girls who had heard Hava’s message. Shaking the scalding liquid from her right hand, Ro slapped her combadge with her left. “Ro here. Etana and I are on the way. What’s going on?”
Of course, by the time Hava’s voice filtered back, explaining that temple service was being disrupted, Ro and Etana were already approaching the shrine’s entrance, and sounds of the tumult within were already becoming audible. Several Bajorans and non-Bajorans had already begun crowding toward the door.
As a squad of six other officers joined Ro and Etana, First Minister Shakaar and Second Minister Asarem and their entourage approached them from just inside the temple. Ro could hear shouting inside, and thought she heard Kira’s name being spoken.
“What’s the problem, Minister?” Ro asked.
“The renegade followers of Ohalu are treating us to a little demonstration,” Asarem said, her voice trembling with anger. “At the behest of your commanding officer, evidently.”
Before Ro could ask Asarem to explain her puzzling comment, Shakaar spoke up, pointing into the sanctuary. “I want those people arrested. Drag them out of here and make an example of them.” Although his words were harsh, Ro didn’t sense the same roiling passion behind them that she observed in Asarem and several of the ranjens who stood nearby.
“If we arrest them within the temple, there could be violence, Minister,” Ro said. “And you also run the risk of turning them into political heroes.”
“Of course you would argue that,” said Vedek Bellis, his jowls wobbling angrily as he pushed his way toward them through those assembled nearby. “You’re hardly fit to deal with a crisis in our temple.”
Ro glanced quickly at Etana, her eyes narrowing. During her days with the Maquis, Ro might have dropped the obnoxious vedek with a knee to the groin. But she was well aware that tactics of a very different sort were necessary here. Etana rolled her eyes, clearly trying to mask her disgust at the vedek’s sentiments.
Ro turned to the assembled deputies, who now numbered over a dozen. “First, let’s make sure nobody gets hurt. Escort the protesters out in the most expedient manner possible, and order them to disperse. If they refuse, take them to holding cells so I can explain station regs to them. And don’t forget that you’re in a holy place.” That last comment, though spoken to her deputies, was intended as a backhanded jab at the still-huffing Bellis.
Ensign Jimenez trailed Ro as she made her way up the center aisle. Several of the assembled worshipers moved aside, allowing them to reach the group of Ohalavaru, all of whom had linked arms. They were apparently meditating or praying, their eyes closed as though maintaining some sort of vigil. Ro placed her hand gently on the back of the nearest protester, a middle-aged woman.
“Ma’am, please come with me,” Ro said loudly, so she could be heard over the angry shouts of the crowd. She ignored her, prompting Ro to try again, more firmly. “Ma’am, you are committing a crime by willfully disturbing this shrine. I must ask you to leave now, or we will be forced to remove you.”
The woman continued to behave as though Ro weren’t even there. Ro glanced at Jimenez, who had maneuvered himself to the woman’s opposite side. His hand was on his phaser, and he looked to Ro for a nod. She wasn’t ready to give it; at least, not yet. Ro looked around the room and saw that the situation was the same with most of the other deputies. None of the Ohalavaru would leave voluntarily, or even acknowledge the presence of the officers. The mood of the congregation, which obviously interpreted the Ohalavaru’s actions as disrespectful, was growing increasingly ugly. Several of the worshipers were beginning to raise their voices, demanding that the Ohalavaru leave. Vedek Capril merely glowered at them from behind the lectern.
The protesters clearly had no intention of moving anytime soon. Damn, Ro thought. The last thing she wanted to do was get rough with these people. Particularly inside a place that so many Bajorans—if not Ro herself—considered hallowed ground.
Ro raised her voice again, inflecting it with military steel. “Those of you who are disturbing this shrine must leave now.
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