Beyond Gloomy Chaos 5/7 (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 FOUR
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kira lost all track of time inside Kormet's tent. When she stepped outside for a breath of fresh air after their Kerdish hosts withdrew to attend to the obligations of their pilgrimage, she found the sun already well past its zenith and midway to twilight. The lateness of the hour awakened long-dormant hunger pangs, and her stomach growled noisily.
Almost as if on cue -- unless the protestations emanating from her midsection were even louder than they seemed -- Picard emerged from the tent with a platter of food. "Kormet left these to tide us over until she returns," he said, proffering the dish.
Kira helped herself to a handful of fruit. "Thanks," she mumbled through a mouthful.
For several minutes she ate hurriedly and noisily, albeit without embarrassment, while Picard stood beside her and gazed off into the distance. When her hunger was satiated, she wiped her hand on her pants. After a brief hesitation to gather her thoughts, she asked, "So it's true you were held captive by Gul Madred?"
Picard flinched, as though she had just touched a raw, exposed nerve. "Yes," he eventually said.
"Oh." She licked her lips, then blurted -- before she could argue herself out of it -- "Listen, about the things I said in there --"
His upraised hand silenced her apology. "Let's not talk about it right now."
"Fine." Another discomforting silence hovered over them. When she could stand it no longer, she licked her lips again and said, "We need to find a way to get to that book."
He turned to her then, giving her a strange look. "We will, when the time is right. I see no point in rushing things and offending our hosts, if they are indeed the key to finding it."
"I thought Q said this was urgent."
Picard nodded. "I'm sure it is. But don't forget that Q is immortal. Time doesn't mean the same thing to him that it does to you and me."
"Hmph." Obviously, this line of argument would get her nowhere. She could not very well explain the reason behind her impatience; Picard would not trust her for an instant if he even so much as suspected she intended to destroy the Book of the Resurrection. She would have to consider another angle.
"What if we followed the Kerdish the next time they go off on one of their pilgrimages?" she asked, waving her hand vaguely and dismissively toward the mountains, where she knew Kormet and the others had gone. Ignoring Picard's stricken look, she continued, "Damar told me that these mountains are a holy place to them, so it's pretty safe to assume that we wouldn't have ended up here unless there is some reason for it. The book must be out there, and I bet, if we followed them the next time they go off to pray or... do whatever they do, we'll find it."
Picard straightened his posture, subsequently tugging down on the hem of his tunic. "We will do no such thing, Colonel," he said firmly. "You may have no respect for the cultures and traditions of others, but I do, and I will not dishonor the Kerdish or their traditions for the mere sake of retrieving a book that may or may not be the one we've been sent here to find." Before Kira had a chance to retort, he turned on his heel and strode back into the tent.
"Well," Kira said when she was once again alone. "I guess that settles that." She flung the now-empty platter, disc-like, into the sand, and stalked off toward the stream. The heat, the food, and her tension had made her thirsty.
* * * * *
Fingers of indigo and purple grasped the sky above Kira's head when she turned back toward the encampment. The mountaintops, glowed with the red and gold splendor of the sun setting behind them. Beyond the remnants of the camp, across the desert and beyond, thick, black clouds hung low on the horizon. Kira thought she saw flashes of lightning and heard the ominous rumble of distant thunder. A breeze picked up, stirring the sand into miniature maelstroms until granules nipped at her exposed skin. She thought she could smell the distinctive aroma of charred air wafting past her nose.
The time she had spent alone had served her well. By the banks of the stream she had attended first to her thirst, then washed the caked dust and sweat from her face, neck and arms as best she could. Then, feeling refreshed, she drew a circle in the dirt and knelt within it, facing the direction she guessed Bajora to be in, and prayed, the first time she had done so since her...encounter with the pagh-wraiths in the shrine on DS9.
She was unaware of precisely how long she stayed there, but when she roused herself from her meditative trance, many of the Kerdish tents were gone, leaving behind only the vague imprint of something having once been there. The Kerdish themselves were leaving as well; when Kira looked up, she saw them making their way into the mountains, their backs laden with all their worldly goods.
Only a few tents remained standing, but Kormet's was one of them. Kira diverted her course just enough to retrieve the discarded platter, then lifted the canvas flap and ducked her head to enter.
The scene was virtually unchanged from before. Kormet, Dorek and the other Kerdish had returned and were seated as they had been earlier in the day; Damar reclined beside the old woman. Captain Picard and Commander Data remained in their previous spots, although Picard seemed to have found a slightly more comfortable position to sit in.
"Ah, Colonel Kira!" Dorek cried with far too much enthusiasm and hospitality for her liking. "Welcome back. Please, join us." He almost seemed as if he expected her to sit beside him.
Kira glanced at Damar, her eyebrow raised in an unspoken question. He simply smiled and nodded. With an inward sigh, she seated herself on the unoccupied pile of cushions beside Picard. "Did I miss anything?" she asked him.
"Nothing that would interest you," he said under his breath. "Kormet's just been explaining a little bit about Kerdish history."
Even though he was right, Picard's insinuation irked her. Determined to prove him wrong, she smiled tightly at Kormet. "Did I understand you correctly when you said earlier that your appearance is a Hebitian trait?" she asked.
The crone tittered. "Very good, my child! I see you were paying attention. Yes, it is true that we -- that all Cardassians -- owe our good looks to our former masters."
"How so?"
"Before the Hebitians conquered us," Dorek said, "we looked a lot like Bajorans. Although our ancestors did not have the nose pleats like you do, we had not yet developed the scales and ridges that distinguish us now."
Kormet pointed to the teardrop-shaped depression in the center of her forehead, the trait Cardassians called a 'third eye' and everyone else called a 'spoon.' "This is the only reminder of what we once looked like," she said.
"How long were the Hebitians in power?" Commander Data asked. "Such a dramatic alteration in phenotype must have taken thousands of years."
Dorek nodded. "Our ancestors were Hebitian slaves for about seven thousand years."
"Seven thousand years?" Picard exclaimed. "I thought you said the Hebitian influence was short-lived!"
"Tsk, tsk, Captain," Kormet said, waggling a long, gnarled finger at him. "Pay attention. I said their influence was relatively short-lived. We've been here for well over 100,000 years. Over such a long time, seven thousand years is but a blink of the eye."
"Bajoran civilization is about 100,000 years old," Kira said, half to herself, half out loud.
"Indeed it is," Kormet replied in a tone that made Kira look up at her. "I think, Colonel, that if you open your eyes, you will find we have much more in common than anyone realizes."
Kira grunted in reply. She was tired of hearing about how much Bajorans and Cardassians had in common. That had been one of Dukat's most precious justifications for the Occupation. If he was right and Bajorans and Cardassians shared a common ethos and mythos, then Prophets help them all. Fortunately, however, he was wrong, as he had been wrong about so many things.
"I hope that I am not intruding on forbidden ground," Picard said, interrupting Kira's musing, "but what was this world like before the Hebitians came? Have you retained any vestiges of that aboriginal civilization?"
Kira wondered at the glance Kormet shared with Dorek and Damar. Had Damar already revealed the reason for their being here? She shifted slightly, just enough so she could reach for her weapon at a moment's notice, if necessary.
"You are looking at most of what remains of what we once were," Kormet said. "Our ancient capital is actually quite new. We were nomads long before we began to build cities, and now we are wanderers again."
"It is the burden we have borne since long before we came to this world," Dorek said.
Kira was not the only one who gasped as the full force of Dorek's revelation hit head-on. "What?" she and Picard yelped in unison.
Outside the tent, the wind picked up, causing the canvas to bulge in and out. One of the Kerdish rose and tied the door-flaps closed.
Data, although no doubt surprised by the news, managed to continue the line of inquiry before either Kira of Picard could regain their composure. "You are not from here?" he asked, his head tilted slightly to one side, his eyes wide but unblinking.
Imitating his posture, Kormet smiled, her eyes twinkling as the light from a nearby lantern reflected off the black-brown irises. "No, we are not," she said.
"Then where are you from?" Picard finally managed to ask.
"How did you get here?" Kira wanted to know. "Cardassians have only been spacefaring for the past few centuries."
"We're not Cardassian," Dorek reminded her, as if he thought that made any difference to her.
"That does not explain where you came from or how you arrived here," Data said. Kira smirked at Dorek.
"I am afraid that those questions may never be answered," Kormet said, her ever-present gaiety fading. "We do not know where we came from, or what -- or who -- brought us here. Those memories have long since faded from our consciousness, and now we have only the tales we tell our children."
"And what do you tell your children?" Picard asked. Kira was not fooled by his placid expression; the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped his knees and the quivering in his biceps as he leaned his weight forward more than betrayed his enthusiasm.
Kormet looked over at Damar, who nodded, then slapped her hands on her knees. "All in good time, Captain," she said, gesturing to one of the other Kerdish. "As our guests, you must make yourselves at home. You must be exhausted from your trip across the desert! Tonight, after you have eaten, rested and changed your clothes, I will tell you all you need to know."
* * * * *
Later, Kira found Damar out with the herd, sitting on the ground with his back propped against the side of the hound they had crossed the desert on. It looked much better now as it grazed contentedly on the scrubs of vegetation sprouting haphazardly around it. She suspected Damar had personally seen to the animal's care, rinsing the dirt and sweat off, brushing and oiling its wavy fur, and combing the snarls out of its mane and tail.
He, too, had cleaned up. His long hair was now neatly combed back, held together at the base of his skull with a strip of leather. He had found another set of clothes as well, exchanging his ratty, filthy rags for the simple tunic and leggings favored by most Kerdish. If she had not known him from another time and place, she might have thought he belonged here in this idyllic scene, far from any military base.
"Her clothes suit you," he said.
She jumped. Even as she studied him, she had not realized he was doing the same to her. Once she regained her composure and registered what he said, she looked down at her own costume, which one of Kormet's attendants had silently offered her to wear. "Whose clothes?" she asked dumbly.
The shadow of melancholy flitting across his face answered her question. "Oh... I'm sorry, I --" she searched for the right words. "Kormet said they were her granddaughter's. I didn't make the connection. I can find something else to wear."
He waved her offer away as he leaned forward to pluck a blade of grass. "It's nothing. You're just the last person I expected to see walking about in my wife's favorite tunic."
Kira felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. She looked off into the distance, stubbing the toe of her boot into the soft ground. Far off, but closer than before, lightning flashed in the sky. She counted to six before she felt the ground rumble.
"What brings you out here?" Damar asked, breaking the tension that had begun to build.
"I don't know," she said, sitting cross-legged in the grass opposite him. "I felt uncomfortable, surrounded by all those... Cardassians. No offense," she hastened to add.
He laughed. "None taken. But if being with all those Cardassians made you uncomfortable, that doesn't explain why you're out here... with a Cardassian."
This time, she laughed. "Fair enough. But... well..." For some reason, her tongue tangled itself into knots yet again.
"Better a known foe than an unknown ally?" came a voice from out of the darkness.
Kira whirled, almost losing her balance. She cursed herself for not having remembered to bring her phaser when she saw Dorek walk up and squat before them. She could see he still had his twin-bladed saber strapped to his back, and momentarily wondered if he slept with it.
"Relax, Colonel," he said, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now."
"I wouldn't be so sure of myself if I were you," she snarled, half-turning away from him.
"I don't know, Colonel," Damar said. "I've been on the opposite end of both your hands and his minetsa saber. I hate to fault your prowess in the martial arts, but I have to say that Dorek has a definite advantage."
Dorek howled with laughter. Even Damar grinned. Kira, however, scowled at them both. When Dorek had quieted enough to hear her, she said, "You'd be singing a different tune if I had a phaser."
Sobering almost instantly, Dorek asked, "You think so?" With a fluid, graceful movement resonant of his actions earlier that day he unsheathed the saber and held it out for her to examine. Light from the approaching storm reflected brightly on its micro-beveled edges as he balanced it on his palms. "It's made of titanium alloy. You think a puny personal-use phaser can penetrate these blades?"
She shrugged with mock bravado. "Why should a phaser bolt have to penetrate the blade when it can just go past it and right between your eyes?"
"You'd have to be one hell of a fast marksman to be able to get a phaser bolt past my blade."
"Care to try me and see?"
"All right, you two, the war ended a long time ago," Damar said, physically coming between them before they could come to blows. Although Kira relished the thought of decking the arrogant, ridge-necked narcissist, she was glad for Damar's intervention. At the same time, she found herself wondering why he always seemed to attract the same sort of people. Dukat and Dorek could very well have been cut from the same cloth.
"How long has it been since you last picked up the minetsa, Damar?" Dorek asked, as insouciant as if nothing unusual had just happened.
"Too long," he said, rising and wiping the sand from his trousers. "Probably not since the Academy." He bent down to assist Kira to her feet.
Dorek did the same, but she ignored his offer to accept Damar's hand. Unperturbed, he smiled, his teeth flashing in the darkness. "Ah, of course. The term championships?"
As one, they walked toward the remaining tents. Kira slowed her pace, allowing herself to fall behind as the two Cardassians reminisced about their shared youth. The last she heard, before a long, slow roll of thunder drowned out their voices, was Dorek crowing over Damar's second-place finish to himself.
CHAPTER TWELVE
While the storm approached with increasing speed and ferocity, they had dismantled Kormet's tent, led the herd to shelter, then, guided by flashes of lightning, picked their way through the brush and outcroppings to the Kerdish 'village' nestled high above the valley. Damar stayed close to Kira, acting as her eyes almost as much as he was shielding her from Dorek's interest. He could sense her growing edginess, and feared what it might lead to.
In single file they passed through the central grotto, its floor and ceiling studded with shiny limestone columns, and into the central gathering place beyond, an ancient, extinct volcano. For all he knew, this may well have even been the volcano that buried the long-abandoned capital, banishing the Kerdish to the desert once again. The gently sloping walls created the perfect ampitheatrical effect just as the rim of the cone high above their heads provided cover from the elements even as it allowed the air inside to remain fresh and clean.
Obeying a gesture from Dorek, Damar led Kira, Picard and Data to a cushioned bench near the arena, where they would be able to witness all that took place. He did not want them -- least of all Kira -- to miss anything. Tonight, he knew, Kormet would tell the Kerdish tale of creation, a tale that could only be told once a century, only once in a Teller's lifetime. With no Tellers to follow in Kormet's footsteps, this could be the last time any of them would ever hear the tale of their beginnings. He wanted Kira to remember this tale, and carry it back to Bajor with her. He did not want it to die out here in the Cardassian wasteland.
Across the chamber he saw a spark, then another, then a flame sputtered to life, revealing Kormet's wizened, somber face in its glow. She held the torch high as she stepped to the center of the stage, where a pile of wood awaited its fate.
"My children," she began, addressing not only those five who had entered with her, but the hundreds of Kerdish seated all around them, each one of them eager to hear her story -- their story. "My children," she said, her voice deep and sonorous as it echoed off the high, curving walls, "here we are, gathered once again in the sacred hall of our ancestors, ready to pay homage to our honored dead and the divine flame that burns within each of us. As we have done every year for time immemorial, we have come together, to this most holy place, to renew ourselves and our covenant with the eternal fire that remains forever separated from us."
She turned to the wood then, extending her arm until the tip of the flame on the torch she held licked at a protruding branch. "I call upon this assembly to bear witness to the tales I have to tell. May this fire that burns so brightly ignite in each of us a flame that can never be extinguished!" The wood snatched at the flame when she thrust the torch deep into its heart, roaring to fiery life with all the fury of a warp core meltdown.
All around him Damar heard murmurs of the ancient prayer. Although he did not believe in the efficacy of prayer, he nevertheless felt compelled to join them, and heard himself saying aloud, "May the fire that burns so bright ignite an eternal flame in me." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kira turn to stare at him, but he ignored her. There would be ample opportunity for explanations later.
Her invocation complete, Kormet returned to the bench where Dorek sat and picked up a gnarled staff topped with bones, hollow reeds and shells threaded along several woven leather strands. The Kerdish called it the Telling Staff, passed down from Teller to Teller for nearly three thousand years. Kormet could tell her tales without the staff, but she liked the traditions and memories it evoked, and the rattling of the gewgaws as she paced a circuit around the now-raging bonfire provided an effective musical accompaniment to the measured cadences of her voice. Besides, as she had once told him with a wink, a woman of her advanced years needed something sturdy to lean on.
There was a rustle of movement, rising and falling in waves as the enraptured audience settled in to hear Kormet's tale. Damar slid a little closer to Kira and leaned forward to clasp his hands between his knees. When the movement died down and all that could be heard was the rumble of thunder and the fire's crackling and popping, Kormet began to weave her story.
* * * * *
"In the beginning," she began, her speech as measured and rhythmic as her steps, "there was no beginning, or middle, or end. There was no was or was not, no here or there, no before or after, no light, no darkness, no life, no death, no stars, no planets, no people. Nothing. And in this nothing rested the seed of all the everythings the universe has come to recognize. This seed was very small at first --" she pinched her fingers to demonstrate "-- so small not even the greatest scientific minds in all of history could find and identify it. Yet despite its size, despite its puny insignificance, despite its infinitesimal nothingness, it was a profoundly fertile seed, straining to release the potency contained within its shell.
"One day -- although it was not really one day, because not even time existed in the great void -- the seed burst into bloom. Where once there had been nothing, now existed everything." She tapped her staff against the ground until the shells clinked against each other. "Out of nothing, comes everything."
Before continuing, she crossed the arena to pluck a large, hibiscus-like flower from a young woman's hair. Kormet sniffed the bloom, smiled, then crossed the arena again to hand it to Kira. "An ordinary seed," she explained to Kira as much as to the entire assembly, "first puts forth one tiny shoot, then another, and another, until finally it uncurls its leaves to the sun and opens its petals to the sky. This cosmic seed -- this fertile microcosm -- erupted from nothingness into full flower in less time than it takes to blink your eyes. Suddenly the nothingness had been transformed into beginning, middle and end, was and was not, here and there, before and after, light, darkness, life, death, stars and planets, and the first signs of sentience the universe had ever experienced."
Once again she tapped her staff against the ground until tiny puffs of dust escaped from beneath the knobbed tip. "Out of nothing, comes everything.
"Gradually, over time -- now that Time existed and its passage could be observed -- the sentience began to take shape." She turned away from Kira and toward the fire, kneeling before it and blowing across the surface of the flames until they jumped and danced before the force of her breath. "'I am Wind,' the sentience said one day to nothing in particular as it blew across the plain putting forth the first green shoots of vegetation."
Next she skimmed her hand across the flames, seeming to capture a tiny flame in the palm of her hand, then releasing it into the sky. "'I am Fire,' the sentience said the next day, pouring its heat onto the plain until the tender plants turned black and their leaves became crumpled and charred."
She then scooped a ladle from a nearby water bucket and poured its contents on to the fire until it sputtered. "'I am Water,' the sentience said the third day as it cooled the scorched plain.
Then she knelt down to scoop up a handful of dirt, which she then sprinkled over the flames. The granules ignited, causing the flames to spark and hiss. "'I am Earth,' the sentience announced on the fourth day as it brought forth new life." Once again the movement of her staff preceded her prayer: "Out of death, comes rebirth.
Kormet rose now, turning to face the assembly as she stretched her arms before her. "And so the sentience continued to take shape, becoming the earth beneath our feet, the air that we breathe, the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea, and the animals that move over the ground. This continued for many thousands upon thousands of years." She shook her staff. "Out of nothing, comes everything; out of death, comes rebirth."
At this point Kormet halted her narrative. She stood before Picard, taking this opportunity to clasp her hands around her staff and smile at him. Damar craned his neck to see around Kira and observe Picard. "Do you know what happened next?" Kormet asked, clearly expecting a particular response.
Picard shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't."
She paused again and looked around at her rapt audience. Damar watched Picard become aware of his own attentiveness and sit back, tugging at the hem of his tunic to mask his mild embarrassment. Then Damar noticed a faint droning noise, not too unlike the sound of a swarm of bees. Confused, he craned his neck, trying to locate the source of the sound, all the while realizing that it grew louder each second.
After a few seconds, Kormet began to tap her staff against the ground, punctuating the drone with a steady staccato tattoo accompanied by the clatter of the ornaments hanging from her staff. Once a tempo had been established, she continued with her story, but this time, rather than simply narrate the unfolding events, she chanted in a high, singsong voice, repeating her earlier refrain:
"Out of nothing, comes everything.
Out of death, comes rebirth.
Nothing, everything, everything, nothing.
Death, life, decay, regeneration.
As the river flows to the sea,
as the fire consumes the wood,
so are we thus destined."
The droning stopped. Once again the chamber fell into total silence, broken only by the roll of thunder and the crackling of burning wood. Damar returned his attention to the small but vibrant figure, the woman to whom so many courageous men and women had sworn their absolute devotion and loyalty, standing at the center of the arena. If an eternal flame burned in any of them, it burned in her.
Kormet ceased tapping her staff against the ground and resumed in her normal voice, "For millions of years, the spirits looked on their creation and found it perfect and complete. Then one day, without any warning, the sentience saw itself as incomplete, as unfulfilled, as... imperfect.
"And so Water poured itself upon fertile Earth to make clay, and Fire heated the clay until it took shape and hardened, and Wind blew on the hot clay to cool it. When the sentience had finished its task, it stepped back to admire its handiwork. The sentience liked what it saw, but realized the creation lacked one vital element. Thus the sentience wrapped itself around the new creation, breathing into its nostrils and thus enveloping it with complete self-awareness, including the knowledge of its origins.
"And thus was Woman born."
A man on the far side of the arena shouted, "Took 'em long enough!" Laughter rippled through the crowd at the man's ribald insinuation. Even Kira chuckled, turning toward Damar with a bright gleam in her eyes and her face flushed. His ridges swelled and grew warm at the sight.
Kormet laughed as well, throwing her head back to release her mirth into the night. Then she raised her staff high and once again commanded the assembly's attention.
"And so Woman, seeing that she alone of all creatures lacked a mate, took a piece of driftwood and hollowed it out and carved it and scorched it and polished it with sand until it assumed a shape similar to, but distinct from, her own. Then she lay the wooden figure on the ground, knelt beside it, and prayed, 'O creator spirits that gave me life, give life to my creation.' The sentience, hearing Woman's supplication, granted her wish.
"Then Woman took Man and showed him all that the sentience had given them. She showed him where to find edible nuts and berries and how to cultivate grains. She taught him how to fashion weapons and hunt the animals of the forests and the meadows, then she showed him how to prepare their pelts for clothing and their flesh for food. She taught him where to find shelter, and how to warm himself on cold nights. She taught him about the courses of the sun and the moons through the sky, and named the constellations for him.
"Most importantly, she taught him about the elements that gave them life and watched over them: about Wind, and Earth, and Fire, and Water. She showed him how to build an altar, and taught him how to pray. And, after she had taught him all this, Woman again took Man by the hand, led him to their newly-made bed, and showed him how to make love."
Kormet paused then, once again crossing the arena to stand before Kira. This time, however, she rested her staff in the crook of her elbow, thus freeing her to take first Kira's hand, then Damar's, and bring them together within her firm grasp. With the three of them bound together thus, she continued softly, as if her tale was for them, and them alone:
"Several months later, without experiencing any of the fear or pain or bloodletting that we have endured for eons, Woman brought forth their first child. She named her son Kresht Amidgen: He Who Questions."
Damar heard Kira suck in her breath and felt her pull free. He wanted to turn to her, to see what had disturbed her, but, irrationally, he feared the truth of what he might find as much as he feared the confirmation of his growing suspicions. So, instead, he trained his gaze on Kormet, and hoped he was more wrong than he had ever been in his life.
"The child was strong and robust, and the spirits delighted in him. Wind would tickle his skin until he giggled, then ruffle his hair like a loving uncle. Water would take the little boats the boy built of bark and leaves and carry them downstream, then, when the boy least expected it, dash itself against a large rock to drench his clothing in its embrace. Earth would sneak itself into his shoes, one grain at a time, and when it thought the boy had slept too long on its grassy surface, would gently jostle him awake again. "
Sadness surrounded her with such potency even Damar felt her grief wash through him. "Of the creator spirits, only Fire refused to play with the boy. It thought the boy was too rough and careless, and whenever he tried to entice it to play with a stick it would threaten to burn him. In time, a deep rivalry grew between them.
"This grieved both the other spirits and the boy's parents, who knew they needed each other to grow and thrive. Despite all their pleading, however, the hatred grew. Nothing could bring about an end to the enmity between Kresht and Fire.
"In time, Woman brought forth another son, whom she named Kardasht Amidgen: He Who Answers. He, too, brought joy to his parents and the creator spirits. Like his brother, he grew to be strong, healthy and full of curiosity about the world around him.
"Unlike his brother, however, he did not fear or despise Fire. Once he recognized Fire's destructive power, he sought ways to tame and control it."
Kormet crouched before the fire and extended her staff toward it, concentrating all her attention on the tip until it glowed bright orange. Then she stood and raised the staff high above her head, then lowered it to waist level and drew embered curlicues in the night air before turning the tip toward the ground and tamping out the embers.
"First Kardasht observed how Fire reacted to different materials. From that, he learned what to feed Fire when he wanted to make it strong, and what to feed it when he wanted it weak. He learned how to create Fire for himself. He used his knowledge of Fire's behavior to build machines to warm himself and cook his food. Although he never held absolute control over the fire, the boy did learn how to use it to his advantage. Because of his diligence and his respect, Fire grew to love Kardasht as he loved it.
"Kresht quickly became jealous of his brother's accomplishments. As so often happens, his envy also fed his hatred of Fire. Rather than accept Kardasht's gift of a warming device, he chose to wrap himself in heavy layers of clothing. He ate only foods that did not require cooking. His devotion to the other spirits remained as steadfast as ever, but his hatred of Kardasht and Fire was implacable.
"Thus the fate that has befallen so many brothers throughout the history of the cosmos came to pass. Envy turned into animosity, animosity into hatred, and hatred into bloodshed.
"A terrible war broke out between the brothers, a war that lasted for many generations, a war that would have destroyed this world had it been allowed to continue unchecked. For generations this terrible and bloody war remained a stalemate, with neither one side nor the other gaining a decisive advantage. The brothers and their allies were evenly matched in their might and their hatred.
"Then one day the tide turned in Kresht's favor. Three strangers appeared in the midst of his encampment. They were beings the likes of which no one had ever seen. They spoke in riddles and demonstrated great feats of power, blotting out the sun's light at midday and causing the ground to open up at their feet. Through their riddles, the strangers promised to help Kresht and his army win the war in return for their loyalty. Being tired of war, he quickly agreed, not realizing the damnation he would soon be bringing down upon his brother -- and, eventually, upon himself.
"One of the strangers, a man with skin as dark as burnished copper and a head as smooth as a stone polished by water, cupped his hands before his chest. A light, brighter than that of the sun, shone forth from between his fingers, and the people fell to their knees in fear and alarm. When they looked up, the stranger's hands unfolded to reveal an hourglass-shaped object that seemed to be made out of stars. The stranger told Kresht that if he held the orb before him the next time he marched into battle, his enemies would know only defeat. Then the strangers disappeared as quickly and as mysteriously as they had come."
Damar looked up at Kormet as she paused in her narration. The flickering shadows cast by the fire as it consumed the last of the wood made her look worn and haggard. Her back hunched over like that of a very old woman, she hobbled over to sit on a bench opposite him. "The next day dawned upon the battlefield," she continued in a low, dull voice. "Kardasht ignited the torch that served as his standard and wielded it at the head of his army. On the opposite side of the plain, Kresht mounted the orb, secured within a silver-plated chest, on a table carried by two of his men as he took his place at the head of his army. Then, as if in obeisance to an unseen signal, the two brothers and their allies marched to their destiny.
"Kresht's men trembled in fear and hatred at the sight of the flame behind which Kardasht's army marched, but Kresht ordered them to stand firm. Then, when the two armies were no more than a river's span apart, Kresht threw open the doors of the chest, lifted the glowing orb high above his head, and cried, 'Behold! The time of our victory is at hand!'
"Suddenly Kardasht and his army found themselves in a stark, white room without doors or windows. Kresht, his army, and all that was familiar to Kardasht was gone. From out of nowhere a voice proclaimed, 'You are not of us. You have blasphemed us with your heresy.'
"What had his brother done? Despite the fear clutching at his spine, Kardasht had the courage to ask, 'Who are you to accuse us of heresy?'
"The voice told him, 'We are the gods on high, the true gods of this people and this world. We are of Paradise. You are not of us.'
"Kardasht spurned their contention that he suddenly no longer belonged where he had lived all his life. Paradise was his rightful home! 'If you are truly our gods,' he said, 'then you would not be afraid to reveal yourselves, that we may worship you.'
"'It is heresy, to demand congress with us,' the voice said.
"'I refuse to worship a god I cannot see or touch!' Kardasht insisted. 'I might as well worship nothing, for that is what you are to me.'
"'Blasphemy!' the voice cried. 'For your sin, you and all your progeny will be branded with a third eye, so that all who look upon you will know of your sinful blindness.' At that, Kardasht and his army felt themselves plummeting through frozen darkness, with nothing to grasp on to and arrest their plunge.
"For what seemed to be a lifetime they fell. Then, with the jolt of a nightmare interrupted by wakefulness, their fall came to an abrupt and jarring end. When the blurring in his vision cleared and he was able to look around him, Kardasht discovered that he, and his army, had been taken from the only home they had ever known, a paradise created and preserved for them, and dropped in the middle of a barren and desolate wilderness."
"Their disgrace did not end there. With Kardasht gone, the strangers ensnared Fire and threw it into a deep, dark hole, sealing the hole with the weight of a thousand mountains. No longer would Fire bring comfort and warmth to Kardasht and his companions; no longer would they be able to celebrate its ability to bring about new life through its destructive power. Because of their devotion to Fire, the strangers decreed, Kardasht and his descendants would forever long for warmth. Because of its hatred of Kresht, Fire would remain forever imprisoned, until the descendants of the two brothers reconciled.
"Then the strangers turned their attention to Kresht. 'You have betrayed your brother,' the said. 'That is an unforgivable sin. For your sin, you will be condemned to eternal torment.' Then, in full view of his army, the strangers encased Kresht in a pool of molten rock, where he would be forever surrounded by heat and flames, and flung him into the bowels of the earth, with nothing but the memory of all he had sacrificed to keep him company."
Kormet looked up at the assembly. "And so we remain, forever branded with the third eye of blindness, forever separated from our brethren in Paradise, forever chilled in the absence of the life-giving flames that Kardasht loved. Someday, as we have hoped for so long, we will return to the beginning, and be as the creator spirits intended us to be. Until that day comes, however, the most we can do is hope, and remember, and pass our hopes and memories on to our children."
She rose, slowly, like an old arthritic woman, and crossed the arena, leaning heavily on her staff. "Now, as our tradition demands, the time has come for me to step down as your Teller and appoint a new Teller to take my place as the keeper of our memories." A murmur swept through the assembly. Even Damar was disturbed. Who could possibly replace Kormet in the hearts and minds of the Kerdish? Kormet raised her staff to quell the noise, although Damar could sense the assembly's unabated restlessness.
Kormet stopped in front of Kira. "You all know it would come to this," she said. "Once a Teller has told the tale of our creation and damnation, a new Teller must take her place." She lifted the staff to hold it before her. "For many years I have searched high and low for your new Teller. As I look around at you, one person stands out at me -- one person reveals to me the eternal flame dwelling within her, the flame of hope and remembering. She is the one who must take my place." Then, much to the astonishment of everyone present, Kormet extended the Telling Staff to Kira. What shocked Damar even more, however, was that Kira stood and accepted it.
The sky split open with a ground-shaking crack, and light filled the assembly hall. All around Damar, people leaped for cover. When the light faded, a tall, dark-skinned man in the garments like those of the Bajoran kai pointed toward Kira and Kormet and cried, "NO!"
PART SIX
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 FOUR
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kira lost all track of time inside Kormet's tent. When she stepped outside for a breath of fresh air after their Kerdish hosts withdrew to attend to the obligations of their pilgrimage, she found the sun already well past its zenith and midway to twilight. The lateness of the hour awakened long-dormant hunger pangs, and her stomach growled noisily.
Almost as if on cue -- unless the protestations emanating from her midsection were even louder than they seemed -- Picard emerged from the tent with a platter of food. "Kormet left these to tide us over until she returns," he said, proffering the dish.
Kira helped herself to a handful of fruit. "Thanks," she mumbled through a mouthful.
For several minutes she ate hurriedly and noisily, albeit without embarrassment, while Picard stood beside her and gazed off into the distance. When her hunger was satiated, she wiped her hand on her pants. After a brief hesitation to gather her thoughts, she asked, "So it's true you were held captive by Gul Madred?"
Picard flinched, as though she had just touched a raw, exposed nerve. "Yes," he eventually said.
"Oh." She licked her lips, then blurted -- before she could argue herself out of it -- "Listen, about the things I said in there --"
His upraised hand silenced her apology. "Let's not talk about it right now."
"Fine." Another discomforting silence hovered over them. When she could stand it no longer, she licked her lips again and said, "We need to find a way to get to that book."
He turned to her then, giving her a strange look. "We will, when the time is right. I see no point in rushing things and offending our hosts, if they are indeed the key to finding it."
"I thought Q said this was urgent."
Picard nodded. "I'm sure it is. But don't forget that Q is immortal. Time doesn't mean the same thing to him that it does to you and me."
"Hmph." Obviously, this line of argument would get her nowhere. She could not very well explain the reason behind her impatience; Picard would not trust her for an instant if he even so much as suspected she intended to destroy the Book of the Resurrection. She would have to consider another angle.
"What if we followed the Kerdish the next time they go off on one of their pilgrimages?" she asked, waving her hand vaguely and dismissively toward the mountains, where she knew Kormet and the others had gone. Ignoring Picard's stricken look, she continued, "Damar told me that these mountains are a holy place to them, so it's pretty safe to assume that we wouldn't have ended up here unless there is some reason for it. The book must be out there, and I bet, if we followed them the next time they go off to pray or... do whatever they do, we'll find it."
Picard straightened his posture, subsequently tugging down on the hem of his tunic. "We will do no such thing, Colonel," he said firmly. "You may have no respect for the cultures and traditions of others, but I do, and I will not dishonor the Kerdish or their traditions for the mere sake of retrieving a book that may or may not be the one we've been sent here to find." Before Kira had a chance to retort, he turned on his heel and strode back into the tent.
"Well," Kira said when she was once again alone. "I guess that settles that." She flung the now-empty platter, disc-like, into the sand, and stalked off toward the stream. The heat, the food, and her tension had made her thirsty.
* * * * *
Fingers of indigo and purple grasped the sky above Kira's head when she turned back toward the encampment. The mountaintops, glowed with the red and gold splendor of the sun setting behind them. Beyond the remnants of the camp, across the desert and beyond, thick, black clouds hung low on the horizon. Kira thought she saw flashes of lightning and heard the ominous rumble of distant thunder. A breeze picked up, stirring the sand into miniature maelstroms until granules nipped at her exposed skin. She thought she could smell the distinctive aroma of charred air wafting past her nose.
The time she had spent alone had served her well. By the banks of the stream she had attended first to her thirst, then washed the caked dust and sweat from her face, neck and arms as best she could. Then, feeling refreshed, she drew a circle in the dirt and knelt within it, facing the direction she guessed Bajora to be in, and prayed, the first time she had done so since her...encounter with the pagh-wraiths in the shrine on DS9.
She was unaware of precisely how long she stayed there, but when she roused herself from her meditative trance, many of the Kerdish tents were gone, leaving behind only the vague imprint of something having once been there. The Kerdish themselves were leaving as well; when Kira looked up, she saw them making their way into the mountains, their backs laden with all their worldly goods.
Only a few tents remained standing, but Kormet's was one of them. Kira diverted her course just enough to retrieve the discarded platter, then lifted the canvas flap and ducked her head to enter.
The scene was virtually unchanged from before. Kormet, Dorek and the other Kerdish had returned and were seated as they had been earlier in the day; Damar reclined beside the old woman. Captain Picard and Commander Data remained in their previous spots, although Picard seemed to have found a slightly more comfortable position to sit in.
"Ah, Colonel Kira!" Dorek cried with far too much enthusiasm and hospitality for her liking. "Welcome back. Please, join us." He almost seemed as if he expected her to sit beside him.
Kira glanced at Damar, her eyebrow raised in an unspoken question. He simply smiled and nodded. With an inward sigh, she seated herself on the unoccupied pile of cushions beside Picard. "Did I miss anything?" she asked him.
"Nothing that would interest you," he said under his breath. "Kormet's just been explaining a little bit about Kerdish history."
Even though he was right, Picard's insinuation irked her. Determined to prove him wrong, she smiled tightly at Kormet. "Did I understand you correctly when you said earlier that your appearance is a Hebitian trait?" she asked.
The crone tittered. "Very good, my child! I see you were paying attention. Yes, it is true that we -- that all Cardassians -- owe our good looks to our former masters."
"How so?"
"Before the Hebitians conquered us," Dorek said, "we looked a lot like Bajorans. Although our ancestors did not have the nose pleats like you do, we had not yet developed the scales and ridges that distinguish us now."
Kormet pointed to the teardrop-shaped depression in the center of her forehead, the trait Cardassians called a 'third eye' and everyone else called a 'spoon.' "This is the only reminder of what we once looked like," she said.
"How long were the Hebitians in power?" Commander Data asked. "Such a dramatic alteration in phenotype must have taken thousands of years."
Dorek nodded. "Our ancestors were Hebitian slaves for about seven thousand years."
"Seven thousand years?" Picard exclaimed. "I thought you said the Hebitian influence was short-lived!"
"Tsk, tsk, Captain," Kormet said, waggling a long, gnarled finger at him. "Pay attention. I said their influence was relatively short-lived. We've been here for well over 100,000 years. Over such a long time, seven thousand years is but a blink of the eye."
"Bajoran civilization is about 100,000 years old," Kira said, half to herself, half out loud.
"Indeed it is," Kormet replied in a tone that made Kira look up at her. "I think, Colonel, that if you open your eyes, you will find we have much more in common than anyone realizes."
Kira grunted in reply. She was tired of hearing about how much Bajorans and Cardassians had in common. That had been one of Dukat's most precious justifications for the Occupation. If he was right and Bajorans and Cardassians shared a common ethos and mythos, then Prophets help them all. Fortunately, however, he was wrong, as he had been wrong about so many things.
"I hope that I am not intruding on forbidden ground," Picard said, interrupting Kira's musing, "but what was this world like before the Hebitians came? Have you retained any vestiges of that aboriginal civilization?"
Kira wondered at the glance Kormet shared with Dorek and Damar. Had Damar already revealed the reason for their being here? She shifted slightly, just enough so she could reach for her weapon at a moment's notice, if necessary.
"You are looking at most of what remains of what we once were," Kormet said. "Our ancient capital is actually quite new. We were nomads long before we began to build cities, and now we are wanderers again."
"It is the burden we have borne since long before we came to this world," Dorek said.
Kira was not the only one who gasped as the full force of Dorek's revelation hit head-on. "What?" she and Picard yelped in unison.
Outside the tent, the wind picked up, causing the canvas to bulge in and out. One of the Kerdish rose and tied the door-flaps closed.
Data, although no doubt surprised by the news, managed to continue the line of inquiry before either Kira of Picard could regain their composure. "You are not from here?" he asked, his head tilted slightly to one side, his eyes wide but unblinking.
Imitating his posture, Kormet smiled, her eyes twinkling as the light from a nearby lantern reflected off the black-brown irises. "No, we are not," she said.
"Then where are you from?" Picard finally managed to ask.
"How did you get here?" Kira wanted to know. "Cardassians have only been spacefaring for the past few centuries."
"We're not Cardassian," Dorek reminded her, as if he thought that made any difference to her.
"That does not explain where you came from or how you arrived here," Data said. Kira smirked at Dorek.
"I am afraid that those questions may never be answered," Kormet said, her ever-present gaiety fading. "We do not know where we came from, or what -- or who -- brought us here. Those memories have long since faded from our consciousness, and now we have only the tales we tell our children."
"And what do you tell your children?" Picard asked. Kira was not fooled by his placid expression; the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped his knees and the quivering in his biceps as he leaned his weight forward more than betrayed his enthusiasm.
Kormet looked over at Damar, who nodded, then slapped her hands on her knees. "All in good time, Captain," she said, gesturing to one of the other Kerdish. "As our guests, you must make yourselves at home. You must be exhausted from your trip across the desert! Tonight, after you have eaten, rested and changed your clothes, I will tell you all you need to know."
* * * * *
Later, Kira found Damar out with the herd, sitting on the ground with his back propped against the side of the hound they had crossed the desert on. It looked much better now as it grazed contentedly on the scrubs of vegetation sprouting haphazardly around it. She suspected Damar had personally seen to the animal's care, rinsing the dirt and sweat off, brushing and oiling its wavy fur, and combing the snarls out of its mane and tail.
He, too, had cleaned up. His long hair was now neatly combed back, held together at the base of his skull with a strip of leather. He had found another set of clothes as well, exchanging his ratty, filthy rags for the simple tunic and leggings favored by most Kerdish. If she had not known him from another time and place, she might have thought he belonged here in this idyllic scene, far from any military base.
"Her clothes suit you," he said.
She jumped. Even as she studied him, she had not realized he was doing the same to her. Once she regained her composure and registered what he said, she looked down at her own costume, which one of Kormet's attendants had silently offered her to wear. "Whose clothes?" she asked dumbly.
The shadow of melancholy flitting across his face answered her question. "Oh... I'm sorry, I --" she searched for the right words. "Kormet said they were her granddaughter's. I didn't make the connection. I can find something else to wear."
He waved her offer away as he leaned forward to pluck a blade of grass. "It's nothing. You're just the last person I expected to see walking about in my wife's favorite tunic."
Kira felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. She looked off into the distance, stubbing the toe of her boot into the soft ground. Far off, but closer than before, lightning flashed in the sky. She counted to six before she felt the ground rumble.
"What brings you out here?" Damar asked, breaking the tension that had begun to build.
"I don't know," she said, sitting cross-legged in the grass opposite him. "I felt uncomfortable, surrounded by all those... Cardassians. No offense," she hastened to add.
He laughed. "None taken. But if being with all those Cardassians made you uncomfortable, that doesn't explain why you're out here... with a Cardassian."
This time, she laughed. "Fair enough. But... well..." For some reason, her tongue tangled itself into knots yet again.
"Better a known foe than an unknown ally?" came a voice from out of the darkness.
Kira whirled, almost losing her balance. She cursed herself for not having remembered to bring her phaser when she saw Dorek walk up and squat before them. She could see he still had his twin-bladed saber strapped to his back, and momentarily wondered if he slept with it.
"Relax, Colonel," he said, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now."
"I wouldn't be so sure of myself if I were you," she snarled, half-turning away from him.
"I don't know, Colonel," Damar said. "I've been on the opposite end of both your hands and his minetsa saber. I hate to fault your prowess in the martial arts, but I have to say that Dorek has a definite advantage."
Dorek howled with laughter. Even Damar grinned. Kira, however, scowled at them both. When Dorek had quieted enough to hear her, she said, "You'd be singing a different tune if I had a phaser."
Sobering almost instantly, Dorek asked, "You think so?" With a fluid, graceful movement resonant of his actions earlier that day he unsheathed the saber and held it out for her to examine. Light from the approaching storm reflected brightly on its micro-beveled edges as he balanced it on his palms. "It's made of titanium alloy. You think a puny personal-use phaser can penetrate these blades?"
She shrugged with mock bravado. "Why should a phaser bolt have to penetrate the blade when it can just go past it and right between your eyes?"
"You'd have to be one hell of a fast marksman to be able to get a phaser bolt past my blade."
"Care to try me and see?"
"All right, you two, the war ended a long time ago," Damar said, physically coming between them before they could come to blows. Although Kira relished the thought of decking the arrogant, ridge-necked narcissist, she was glad for Damar's intervention. At the same time, she found herself wondering why he always seemed to attract the same sort of people. Dukat and Dorek could very well have been cut from the same cloth.
"How long has it been since you last picked up the minetsa, Damar?" Dorek asked, as insouciant as if nothing unusual had just happened.
"Too long," he said, rising and wiping the sand from his trousers. "Probably not since the Academy." He bent down to assist Kira to her feet.
Dorek did the same, but she ignored his offer to accept Damar's hand. Unperturbed, he smiled, his teeth flashing in the darkness. "Ah, of course. The term championships?"
As one, they walked toward the remaining tents. Kira slowed her pace, allowing herself to fall behind as the two Cardassians reminisced about their shared youth. The last she heard, before a long, slow roll of thunder drowned out their voices, was Dorek crowing over Damar's second-place finish to himself.
CHAPTER TWELVE
While the storm approached with increasing speed and ferocity, they had dismantled Kormet's tent, led the herd to shelter, then, guided by flashes of lightning, picked their way through the brush and outcroppings to the Kerdish 'village' nestled high above the valley. Damar stayed close to Kira, acting as her eyes almost as much as he was shielding her from Dorek's interest. He could sense her growing edginess, and feared what it might lead to.
In single file they passed through the central grotto, its floor and ceiling studded with shiny limestone columns, and into the central gathering place beyond, an ancient, extinct volcano. For all he knew, this may well have even been the volcano that buried the long-abandoned capital, banishing the Kerdish to the desert once again. The gently sloping walls created the perfect ampitheatrical effect just as the rim of the cone high above their heads provided cover from the elements even as it allowed the air inside to remain fresh and clean.
Obeying a gesture from Dorek, Damar led Kira, Picard and Data to a cushioned bench near the arena, where they would be able to witness all that took place. He did not want them -- least of all Kira -- to miss anything. Tonight, he knew, Kormet would tell the Kerdish tale of creation, a tale that could only be told once a century, only once in a Teller's lifetime. With no Tellers to follow in Kormet's footsteps, this could be the last time any of them would ever hear the tale of their beginnings. He wanted Kira to remember this tale, and carry it back to Bajor with her. He did not want it to die out here in the Cardassian wasteland.
Across the chamber he saw a spark, then another, then a flame sputtered to life, revealing Kormet's wizened, somber face in its glow. She held the torch high as she stepped to the center of the stage, where a pile of wood awaited its fate.
"My children," she began, addressing not only those five who had entered with her, but the hundreds of Kerdish seated all around them, each one of them eager to hear her story -- their story. "My children," she said, her voice deep and sonorous as it echoed off the high, curving walls, "here we are, gathered once again in the sacred hall of our ancestors, ready to pay homage to our honored dead and the divine flame that burns within each of us. As we have done every year for time immemorial, we have come together, to this most holy place, to renew ourselves and our covenant with the eternal fire that remains forever separated from us."
She turned to the wood then, extending her arm until the tip of the flame on the torch she held licked at a protruding branch. "I call upon this assembly to bear witness to the tales I have to tell. May this fire that burns so brightly ignite in each of us a flame that can never be extinguished!" The wood snatched at the flame when she thrust the torch deep into its heart, roaring to fiery life with all the fury of a warp core meltdown.
All around him Damar heard murmurs of the ancient prayer. Although he did not believe in the efficacy of prayer, he nevertheless felt compelled to join them, and heard himself saying aloud, "May the fire that burns so bright ignite an eternal flame in me." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kira turn to stare at him, but he ignored her. There would be ample opportunity for explanations later.
Her invocation complete, Kormet returned to the bench where Dorek sat and picked up a gnarled staff topped with bones, hollow reeds and shells threaded along several woven leather strands. The Kerdish called it the Telling Staff, passed down from Teller to Teller for nearly three thousand years. Kormet could tell her tales without the staff, but she liked the traditions and memories it evoked, and the rattling of the gewgaws as she paced a circuit around the now-raging bonfire provided an effective musical accompaniment to the measured cadences of her voice. Besides, as she had once told him with a wink, a woman of her advanced years needed something sturdy to lean on.
There was a rustle of movement, rising and falling in waves as the enraptured audience settled in to hear Kormet's tale. Damar slid a little closer to Kira and leaned forward to clasp his hands between his knees. When the movement died down and all that could be heard was the rumble of thunder and the fire's crackling and popping, Kormet began to weave her story.
* * * * *
"In the beginning," she began, her speech as measured and rhythmic as her steps, "there was no beginning, or middle, or end. There was no was or was not, no here or there, no before or after, no light, no darkness, no life, no death, no stars, no planets, no people. Nothing. And in this nothing rested the seed of all the everythings the universe has come to recognize. This seed was very small at first --" she pinched her fingers to demonstrate "-- so small not even the greatest scientific minds in all of history could find and identify it. Yet despite its size, despite its puny insignificance, despite its infinitesimal nothingness, it was a profoundly fertile seed, straining to release the potency contained within its shell.
"One day -- although it was not really one day, because not even time existed in the great void -- the seed burst into bloom. Where once there had been nothing, now existed everything." She tapped her staff against the ground until the shells clinked against each other. "Out of nothing, comes everything."
Before continuing, she crossed the arena to pluck a large, hibiscus-like flower from a young woman's hair. Kormet sniffed the bloom, smiled, then crossed the arena again to hand it to Kira. "An ordinary seed," she explained to Kira as much as to the entire assembly, "first puts forth one tiny shoot, then another, and another, until finally it uncurls its leaves to the sun and opens its petals to the sky. This cosmic seed -- this fertile microcosm -- erupted from nothingness into full flower in less time than it takes to blink your eyes. Suddenly the nothingness had been transformed into beginning, middle and end, was and was not, here and there, before and after, light, darkness, life, death, stars and planets, and the first signs of sentience the universe had ever experienced."
Once again she tapped her staff against the ground until tiny puffs of dust escaped from beneath the knobbed tip. "Out of nothing, comes everything.
"Gradually, over time -- now that Time existed and its passage could be observed -- the sentience began to take shape." She turned away from Kira and toward the fire, kneeling before it and blowing across the surface of the flames until they jumped and danced before the force of her breath. "'I am Wind,' the sentience said one day to nothing in particular as it blew across the plain putting forth the first green shoots of vegetation."
Next she skimmed her hand across the flames, seeming to capture a tiny flame in the palm of her hand, then releasing it into the sky. "'I am Fire,' the sentience said the next day, pouring its heat onto the plain until the tender plants turned black and their leaves became crumpled and charred."
She then scooped a ladle from a nearby water bucket and poured its contents on to the fire until it sputtered. "'I am Water,' the sentience said the third day as it cooled the scorched plain.
Then she knelt down to scoop up a handful of dirt, which she then sprinkled over the flames. The granules ignited, causing the flames to spark and hiss. "'I am Earth,' the sentience announced on the fourth day as it brought forth new life." Once again the movement of her staff preceded her prayer: "Out of death, comes rebirth.
Kormet rose now, turning to face the assembly as she stretched her arms before her. "And so the sentience continued to take shape, becoming the earth beneath our feet, the air that we breathe, the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea, and the animals that move over the ground. This continued for many thousands upon thousands of years." She shook her staff. "Out of nothing, comes everything; out of death, comes rebirth."
At this point Kormet halted her narrative. She stood before Picard, taking this opportunity to clasp her hands around her staff and smile at him. Damar craned his neck to see around Kira and observe Picard. "Do you know what happened next?" Kormet asked, clearly expecting a particular response.
Picard shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't."
She paused again and looked around at her rapt audience. Damar watched Picard become aware of his own attentiveness and sit back, tugging at the hem of his tunic to mask his mild embarrassment. Then Damar noticed a faint droning noise, not too unlike the sound of a swarm of bees. Confused, he craned his neck, trying to locate the source of the sound, all the while realizing that it grew louder each second.
After a few seconds, Kormet began to tap her staff against the ground, punctuating the drone with a steady staccato tattoo accompanied by the clatter of the ornaments hanging from her staff. Once a tempo had been established, she continued with her story, but this time, rather than simply narrate the unfolding events, she chanted in a high, singsong voice, repeating her earlier refrain:
"Out of nothing, comes everything.
Out of death, comes rebirth.
Nothing, everything, everything, nothing.
Death, life, decay, regeneration.
As the river flows to the sea,
as the fire consumes the wood,
so are we thus destined."
The droning stopped. Once again the chamber fell into total silence, broken only by the roll of thunder and the crackling of burning wood. Damar returned his attention to the small but vibrant figure, the woman to whom so many courageous men and women had sworn their absolute devotion and loyalty, standing at the center of the arena. If an eternal flame burned in any of them, it burned in her.
Kormet ceased tapping her staff against the ground and resumed in her normal voice, "For millions of years, the spirits looked on their creation and found it perfect and complete. Then one day, without any warning, the sentience saw itself as incomplete, as unfulfilled, as... imperfect.
"And so Water poured itself upon fertile Earth to make clay, and Fire heated the clay until it took shape and hardened, and Wind blew on the hot clay to cool it. When the sentience had finished its task, it stepped back to admire its handiwork. The sentience liked what it saw, but realized the creation lacked one vital element. Thus the sentience wrapped itself around the new creation, breathing into its nostrils and thus enveloping it with complete self-awareness, including the knowledge of its origins.
"And thus was Woman born."
A man on the far side of the arena shouted, "Took 'em long enough!" Laughter rippled through the crowd at the man's ribald insinuation. Even Kira chuckled, turning toward Damar with a bright gleam in her eyes and her face flushed. His ridges swelled and grew warm at the sight.
Kormet laughed as well, throwing her head back to release her mirth into the night. Then she raised her staff high and once again commanded the assembly's attention.
"And so Woman, seeing that she alone of all creatures lacked a mate, took a piece of driftwood and hollowed it out and carved it and scorched it and polished it with sand until it assumed a shape similar to, but distinct from, her own. Then she lay the wooden figure on the ground, knelt beside it, and prayed, 'O creator spirits that gave me life, give life to my creation.' The sentience, hearing Woman's supplication, granted her wish.
"Then Woman took Man and showed him all that the sentience had given them. She showed him where to find edible nuts and berries and how to cultivate grains. She taught him how to fashion weapons and hunt the animals of the forests and the meadows, then she showed him how to prepare their pelts for clothing and their flesh for food. She taught him where to find shelter, and how to warm himself on cold nights. She taught him about the courses of the sun and the moons through the sky, and named the constellations for him.
"Most importantly, she taught him about the elements that gave them life and watched over them: about Wind, and Earth, and Fire, and Water. She showed him how to build an altar, and taught him how to pray. And, after she had taught him all this, Woman again took Man by the hand, led him to their newly-made bed, and showed him how to make love."
Kormet paused then, once again crossing the arena to stand before Kira. This time, however, she rested her staff in the crook of her elbow, thus freeing her to take first Kira's hand, then Damar's, and bring them together within her firm grasp. With the three of them bound together thus, she continued softly, as if her tale was for them, and them alone:
"Several months later, without experiencing any of the fear or pain or bloodletting that we have endured for eons, Woman brought forth their first child. She named her son Kresht Amidgen: He Who Questions."
Damar heard Kira suck in her breath and felt her pull free. He wanted to turn to her, to see what had disturbed her, but, irrationally, he feared the truth of what he might find as much as he feared the confirmation of his growing suspicions. So, instead, he trained his gaze on Kormet, and hoped he was more wrong than he had ever been in his life.
"The child was strong and robust, and the spirits delighted in him. Wind would tickle his skin until he giggled, then ruffle his hair like a loving uncle. Water would take the little boats the boy built of bark and leaves and carry them downstream, then, when the boy least expected it, dash itself against a large rock to drench his clothing in its embrace. Earth would sneak itself into his shoes, one grain at a time, and when it thought the boy had slept too long on its grassy surface, would gently jostle him awake again. "
Sadness surrounded her with such potency even Damar felt her grief wash through him. "Of the creator spirits, only Fire refused to play with the boy. It thought the boy was too rough and careless, and whenever he tried to entice it to play with a stick it would threaten to burn him. In time, a deep rivalry grew between them.
"This grieved both the other spirits and the boy's parents, who knew they needed each other to grow and thrive. Despite all their pleading, however, the hatred grew. Nothing could bring about an end to the enmity between Kresht and Fire.
"In time, Woman brought forth another son, whom she named Kardasht Amidgen: He Who Answers. He, too, brought joy to his parents and the creator spirits. Like his brother, he grew to be strong, healthy and full of curiosity about the world around him.
"Unlike his brother, however, he did not fear or despise Fire. Once he recognized Fire's destructive power, he sought ways to tame and control it."
Kormet crouched before the fire and extended her staff toward it, concentrating all her attention on the tip until it glowed bright orange. Then she stood and raised the staff high above her head, then lowered it to waist level and drew embered curlicues in the night air before turning the tip toward the ground and tamping out the embers.
"First Kardasht observed how Fire reacted to different materials. From that, he learned what to feed Fire when he wanted to make it strong, and what to feed it when he wanted it weak. He learned how to create Fire for himself. He used his knowledge of Fire's behavior to build machines to warm himself and cook his food. Although he never held absolute control over the fire, the boy did learn how to use it to his advantage. Because of his diligence and his respect, Fire grew to love Kardasht as he loved it.
"Kresht quickly became jealous of his brother's accomplishments. As so often happens, his envy also fed his hatred of Fire. Rather than accept Kardasht's gift of a warming device, he chose to wrap himself in heavy layers of clothing. He ate only foods that did not require cooking. His devotion to the other spirits remained as steadfast as ever, but his hatred of Kardasht and Fire was implacable.
"Thus the fate that has befallen so many brothers throughout the history of the cosmos came to pass. Envy turned into animosity, animosity into hatred, and hatred into bloodshed.
"A terrible war broke out between the brothers, a war that lasted for many generations, a war that would have destroyed this world had it been allowed to continue unchecked. For generations this terrible and bloody war remained a stalemate, with neither one side nor the other gaining a decisive advantage. The brothers and their allies were evenly matched in their might and their hatred.
"Then one day the tide turned in Kresht's favor. Three strangers appeared in the midst of his encampment. They were beings the likes of which no one had ever seen. They spoke in riddles and demonstrated great feats of power, blotting out the sun's light at midday and causing the ground to open up at their feet. Through their riddles, the strangers promised to help Kresht and his army win the war in return for their loyalty. Being tired of war, he quickly agreed, not realizing the damnation he would soon be bringing down upon his brother -- and, eventually, upon himself.
"One of the strangers, a man with skin as dark as burnished copper and a head as smooth as a stone polished by water, cupped his hands before his chest. A light, brighter than that of the sun, shone forth from between his fingers, and the people fell to their knees in fear and alarm. When they looked up, the stranger's hands unfolded to reveal an hourglass-shaped object that seemed to be made out of stars. The stranger told Kresht that if he held the orb before him the next time he marched into battle, his enemies would know only defeat. Then the strangers disappeared as quickly and as mysteriously as they had come."
Damar looked up at Kormet as she paused in her narration. The flickering shadows cast by the fire as it consumed the last of the wood made her look worn and haggard. Her back hunched over like that of a very old woman, she hobbled over to sit on a bench opposite him. "The next day dawned upon the battlefield," she continued in a low, dull voice. "Kardasht ignited the torch that served as his standard and wielded it at the head of his army. On the opposite side of the plain, Kresht mounted the orb, secured within a silver-plated chest, on a table carried by two of his men as he took his place at the head of his army. Then, as if in obeisance to an unseen signal, the two brothers and their allies marched to their destiny.
"Kresht's men trembled in fear and hatred at the sight of the flame behind which Kardasht's army marched, but Kresht ordered them to stand firm. Then, when the two armies were no more than a river's span apart, Kresht threw open the doors of the chest, lifted the glowing orb high above his head, and cried, 'Behold! The time of our victory is at hand!'
"Suddenly Kardasht and his army found themselves in a stark, white room without doors or windows. Kresht, his army, and all that was familiar to Kardasht was gone. From out of nowhere a voice proclaimed, 'You are not of us. You have blasphemed us with your heresy.'
"What had his brother done? Despite the fear clutching at his spine, Kardasht had the courage to ask, 'Who are you to accuse us of heresy?'
"The voice told him, 'We are the gods on high, the true gods of this people and this world. We are of Paradise. You are not of us.'
"Kardasht spurned their contention that he suddenly no longer belonged where he had lived all his life. Paradise was his rightful home! 'If you are truly our gods,' he said, 'then you would not be afraid to reveal yourselves, that we may worship you.'
"'It is heresy, to demand congress with us,' the voice said.
"'I refuse to worship a god I cannot see or touch!' Kardasht insisted. 'I might as well worship nothing, for that is what you are to me.'
"'Blasphemy!' the voice cried. 'For your sin, you and all your progeny will be branded with a third eye, so that all who look upon you will know of your sinful blindness.' At that, Kardasht and his army felt themselves plummeting through frozen darkness, with nothing to grasp on to and arrest their plunge.
"For what seemed to be a lifetime they fell. Then, with the jolt of a nightmare interrupted by wakefulness, their fall came to an abrupt and jarring end. When the blurring in his vision cleared and he was able to look around him, Kardasht discovered that he, and his army, had been taken from the only home they had ever known, a paradise created and preserved for them, and dropped in the middle of a barren and desolate wilderness."
"Their disgrace did not end there. With Kardasht gone, the strangers ensnared Fire and threw it into a deep, dark hole, sealing the hole with the weight of a thousand mountains. No longer would Fire bring comfort and warmth to Kardasht and his companions; no longer would they be able to celebrate its ability to bring about new life through its destructive power. Because of their devotion to Fire, the strangers decreed, Kardasht and his descendants would forever long for warmth. Because of its hatred of Kresht, Fire would remain forever imprisoned, until the descendants of the two brothers reconciled.
"Then the strangers turned their attention to Kresht. 'You have betrayed your brother,' the said. 'That is an unforgivable sin. For your sin, you will be condemned to eternal torment.' Then, in full view of his army, the strangers encased Kresht in a pool of molten rock, where he would be forever surrounded by heat and flames, and flung him into the bowels of the earth, with nothing but the memory of all he had sacrificed to keep him company."
Kormet looked up at the assembly. "And so we remain, forever branded with the third eye of blindness, forever separated from our brethren in Paradise, forever chilled in the absence of the life-giving flames that Kardasht loved. Someday, as we have hoped for so long, we will return to the beginning, and be as the creator spirits intended us to be. Until that day comes, however, the most we can do is hope, and remember, and pass our hopes and memories on to our children."
She rose, slowly, like an old arthritic woman, and crossed the arena, leaning heavily on her staff. "Now, as our tradition demands, the time has come for me to step down as your Teller and appoint a new Teller to take my place as the keeper of our memories." A murmur swept through the assembly. Even Damar was disturbed. Who could possibly replace Kormet in the hearts and minds of the Kerdish? Kormet raised her staff to quell the noise, although Damar could sense the assembly's unabated restlessness.
Kormet stopped in front of Kira. "You all know it would come to this," she said. "Once a Teller has told the tale of our creation and damnation, a new Teller must take her place." She lifted the staff to hold it before her. "For many years I have searched high and low for your new Teller. As I look around at you, one person stands out at me -- one person reveals to me the eternal flame dwelling within her, the flame of hope and remembering. She is the one who must take my place." Then, much to the astonishment of everyone present, Kormet extended the Telling Staff to Kira. What shocked Damar even more, however, was that Kira stood and accepted it.
The sky split open with a ground-shaking crack, and light filled the assembly hall. All around Damar, people leaped for cover. When the light faded, a tall, dark-skinned man in the garments like those of the Bajoran kai pointed toward Kira and Kormet and cried, "NO!"
PART SIX