CHAPTER EIGHT
“We can throw him into a prison or a madhouse,
but
we cannot change his mind ...
The
mystic is … invulnerable.”
– William James
Vedek Yahael Oyhmitt knew the
Prophets—of that he had long been
certain. It was only of late, however, that he had come to fully understand a more significant truth.
The Prophets knew him.
Of course, they were aware of, and had
a purpose for, all who lived: Even a Bajoran who possessed negligible enlightenment comprehended
that basic tenet. For a select, elect
few, however, they reserved a greater calling.
Vedek Yahael had heard that Call … and he had responded.
Reality had depth as well as breadth
for those who possessed the discernment to look past its surface. Few, however,
did; and that was why the Prophets had wept their Tears … sent their Emissary …
bestowed the Staff of Tiran on the first Kai …
… and, most
importantly, given Yahael his holy mission.
He had, like most of his people, lived
through the Cardassian occupation—if you could call what Bajorans had done
during those long decades living, that is. In all that time, however, he’d
raised neither gun nor blade against the oppressors. By the Prophets’ grace,
the adolescent Yahael had gradually and grudgingly
perceived that violence would not avail—at least not then.
So, difficult though it had been, he
had bided and waited—allowing others to brandish “weapons” that weren’t much
better than toys, have their little meetings … and claim ‘victory’ when the
Cardassians, having taken all they could, had at last grown weary and departed.
His family had managed to retain affluence and influence throughout, all while
deftly avoiding the stigma of collaboration; and an older, wiser Yahael could and did concede that his younger self’s
nomination to the rank of vedek had been as much due to his parents’ political
connections as his own spiritual ones. Of course, it hadn’t hurt that the
Cardassians, especially under Gul Dukat,
had killed vedeks
whenever the mood struck them … and, as all Bajorans knew, Cardassians were a
people perpetually in an ill mood.
He felt no shame in having received
such aid, though. Money and favors might win an unworthy man prylar’s robes,
and even a seat in the Vedek Assembly … but it had
been Yahael
who’d even then realized that his ascent had only begun. Untimely deaths were,
indeed, tragic, but if the Prophets had chosen that method to clear a path for him,
who was he to gainsay it? The dead were in many ways better off, having gone
forth to dwell with Them.
He’d always said heartfelt, if brief,
prayers for those departed, and then promptly returned his attention to the
land of the living. Its inhabitants hungered and thirsted, and Yahael had from the onset comprehended, as it seemed at
first no one else did, that the Federation presented a far greater danger to
his world than the Cardassians ever
had—for while the humans would fill Bajoran bellies
with their replicated food, they would also empty their spirits with false
doctrines and atheistic rhetoric.
And so he had fought them—subtly at
first, granted … but he had fought
them. For quite some time he had been, for the most part, ignored. That had only strengthened his resolve.
He’d always had an unwavering faith
that Bajor’s time would come—that her enemies would
be laid low, and her people rightly exalted above all others. While
the former had begun with Cardassia’s fall, the
latter had not yet come to pass; it was, however, impending, according to the
signs. A new age would soon begin, if only they found the strength, and the
means, to bring it forth.
To that end, Yahael
had begun a study of Bajoran scripture, its scope and
profundity growing along with his influence in the Vedek
Assembly. Volumes the existence of which most were
unaware passed through his hands and before his eyes, and slowly he grew to
understand their holy purpose, and his own. The Prophets had not made him an
Emissary, or given him an Orb experience. Instead, they had written of their
intent, woven it into numerous and disparate texts, then simply waited until
one had both possessed the vision and developed the exegetical methodology to
find it.
And alone among all who'd ever lived, it
had been Yahael who’d accomplished this. A lesser man
would have felt pride in that, but he knew it had been made possible only by
the Prophets’ grace; and that reminder allowed him to wear humility like a
cloak of righteousness.
Most of his magisterial brethren were
traditionalists. They shepherded their own congregations, serving as both
spiritual arbiter and liaison with the Vedek
Assembly, while acknowledging others of their rank the same rights and
privileges within the bounds of their own vedekates.
Barely a week after the Cardassians’
departure, though, Yahael had broken with tradition,
and begun employing the renascent planetary media net to broadcast a series of
inspirational homilies. These had been directed, though, not just at the common
citizenry of his own territoriy … but all Bajor.
It had not been a popular move—at
least, not amongst his ‘peers.’ At first, his following had been negligible;
lay Bajorans were also traditionalists, and far more comfortable with prylars who lived
down the street and vedeks
they saw every few weeks in their local temple. During that period, he had been
regarded (when anyone of import chose to regard him at all,
that is) as something of a harmless eccentric … and not in the least a
threat.
Yahael had nevertheless
persevered … and, gradually, his determination had borne fruit. After a few
months, angry prylars
the world over had begun complaining that some of their parishioners were
staying home to listen, rather than attending local temple services. As his
influence grew, and extended its tendrils throughout Bajor, more than a few vedeks threatened
to propose sanctions against him via the Assembly.
Yet nothing had ever been done. No vedek wanted to be the one who raised his voice against the
man who’d already been called by one irreverent writer “the people’s kai.” And Winn
herself had done what she did best: Smiled benignly, called him “child” when
they spoke, and most importantly, since he made no move against her, let him
be.
He considered it ironic that his own
rise in popularity had coincided with that of the Jem’Hadar
threat. For all its power, though, the Dominion was now gone, again consigned
to the Gamma Quadrant.
He—and the Prophets, of
course—remained.
His relationship with the people of Bajor
had, in the last seven years, evolved until Yahael’s
influence was now so immense, a few choice words from him might well cause a
schism.
But such was by no means his goal; the
very idea horrified him. Faithfully serving the Prophets meant obedience to the
Kai and respect for his fellow vedeks, misguided or even in some cases deluded and deceived
though they had been, and yet remained.
Now, standing before them, prepared for
the first time in his life to address the Vedek
Assembly in session and in toto, he knew that the moment had come.
He bowed to his brethren, knelt before
the Kai …
…and then, as he had so often before, Vedek Yahael Oyhmitt
did something that no one else ever had.