PROLOGUE
“Customarily, the
problem inherent with faith-based religion—no matter how grounded it seems in
benevolence or how fervently it espouses the prospect of omni-versal
redemption—is that, ultimately, its theology grants it the moral authority
(and, usually, Scriptural ammunition) to assail and condemn any other faith-based religion,
or, indeed, any other belief system, as false in fundamental principle and
malevolent in ultimate purpose. And, of course, the irony of that stance is
generally lost on those most loudly and violently espousing it.”
- On the Commonality of
Religious Experience
When she first entered the
…and neither of which she had, until this moment, truly believed.
One, the sense of palpable menace that had always pervaded the
place—a feeling that something of immeasurable power and unquenchable wrath lay
beneath these myriad passages, their mass of stone and fire barely enough to keep
it bound there—was strangely absent.
Two, the air was warm—neither oppressively hot, as it had often been
since ancient times, nor chilly as such a cavern complex actually should have been, according to the best
scientists Bajor and the Federation had to offer. It was cooling, though, at a
rate that had the latter perplexed … and the former alarmed.
Soon, it seemed, the
What precisely should, or even could, be done about that had been
for some time a matter of debate in the very highest secular and religious
circles. As had become the norm, those two authorities, both of which
considered themselves the court of final appeal, found it impossible to agree.
And so, they’d done nothing—well, almost nothing … and put Linar
herself in charge of it.
Now, as she and her little team descended a path more often walked
by emissaries, legates and kais than simple vedeks and laypeople, she felt the
weight of accountability, and wished again for the simplicity of her monastery.
The misfortune of being
known as a moderate on a world of extremists, she thought. Most everyone
respects your opinion as “unbiased”—when
they’re not trying to convert you to their side, that is.
Linar’s communicator beeped … and beside her, the “escort” the
Bajoran militia had so kindly provided nearly jumped out of his uniform.
Amused, she chided, “Shouldn’t I
be the one who approaches this task with fear and trembling, child?”
In the dim illumination, Linar couldn’t be certain, but it seemed to
her that Major Daret Koven flushed. His instinctual threat response—hand to
sidearm—didn’t surprise her in the least; he was, after all, a soldier.
Perhaps I should take to wearing a
phaser. I wouldn’t mind a bit of emotional security on occasion, myself. The
cynical portion of her mind replied, And
what of spiritual security—the armor
of your faith?
The comm badge sounded again.
She sighed, and rapped it.
“Yes, Minister?”
“I’m not certain I like
your tone, Linar.”
Well… at last we agree
on something, she thought. I don’t like anything about
you.
If the speaker, one Vedek Maral, thought she was going to ask
forgiveness, well … he’d been dealing with his easily-cowed little flock for
too long.
“Progress reports are all well and good, Minister; I’m happy to
report status on occasion… but every five
minutes is a little much.”
Before he could reprimand her, or even reply, she continued,
“We’re halfway to our goal. We’ve seen nothing unusual. Linar out.”
Major Daret, to her surprise, chuckled.
“That’ll probably cost you at
least a lecture.”
She smiled, but didn’t respond; while her guardian seemed a decent
enough sort, who was to say that her commentary wouldn’t somehow reach Maral’s ear? Disliking someone and making them an
enemy were two entirely different orders of magnitude.
Besides, Linar and her two companions had more important matters
to concern them.
Their descent continued.
The third of their number activated a tricorder, and for a long
moment, the little device’s warble echoed through the passages—abruptly
silenced when its wielder snapped the sensor pod shut.
“The readings are still
scrambled.”
As the passageway narrowed to single file, Linar conceded the
point to Daret, and answered the frustrated woman behind her.
“I doubt either the Prophets, or for that matter the Pah Wraiths,
care to disclose all their secrets—especially to a non-believer. Thus, your
tricorder will reveal nothing they
don’t deign to show you.”
A derisive grunt let Linar know what her empirically-minded
comrade thought about that explanation.
So she supplied another.
“Alternately … the deposits of maracite ore about which you were
briefed are probably blocking your tricorder’s sensors.” Along with, Prophets be thanked, any more of Maral’s ‘status checks.’
“I was certain I’d
compensated for that.”
The vedek paused and glanced back, a knowing grin firmly in place.
“Then I guess we’re back
to explanation number one.”
Linar then hurried to catch Daret, thinking, Prophets forgive me for my self-righteousness…
…but I love doing that.
I hate it when she does that.
Lieutenant Commander Meredith Michaels, respected Starfleet
officer, renowned vulcanologist, and reluctant participant, reconfigured her
tricorder—even as she recompiled the ever-changing list of what she currently
despised.
I hate organized religion.
I hate pithy answers to
serious questions.
She glanced up at Linar’s retreating back, noted that Daret’s
beacon was nearly out of sight, and quickened her own pace.
And I hate the dark.
When the passage at last widened, Daret Koven stepped aside,
conceding the lead position once more to Vedek Linar. It was, at least
nominally, his job to protect her: He had been chosen from a select list of
Bajoran officers as one who was devout enough to obey, clever enough to
innovate, and smart enough to keep his mouth shut after the fact. Still, he had
no illusions about his ability to do so in the event of a supernatural
occurrence. He was more of an honor guard than a bodyguard, and he knew it.
And here, at the very gates of damnation, he was entirely willing
to yield.
Yet … there was no fire.
The pit into the abyss, the chasm that led into the Pah Wraiths’
Eternal Prison, was filled not with fire, but darkness.
Daret Koven shivered ... and he wasn’t the only one.
“It’s true. All of it is
true. Prophets protect
us,” Linar whispered … and launched immediately into a mantra, employing a particularly ancient variant of the High
Bajoran dialect only vedeks were permitted to study and speak.
To Koven, it sounded like an invocation … or, perhaps, a plea.
As he listened, though, The Void whispered to him with far more
eloquence.
He didn’t remember walking there … but found himself standing at
the very edge of the rift, gazing into darkness so deep that it seemed the sum
of existence.
In the distance, Koven could heard Linar’s chant; it seemed as if
she were screaming, but the Words of Power rushed past him, falling into the
silence before their might could resonate.
He felt restraining hands on his arm, and with a shrug, brushed
them away.
Daret Koven longed for a different embrace…
…and reached for the arms of night.
Meredith Michaels levered back to her knees. She had suddenly
realized Koven’s intent, grabbed him … and been flicked aside by a force that
flung her into the cave wall.
Shaking her head against the grogginess that threatened to
overwhelm her, ignoring the stab of pain that bespoke two broken ribs, Michaels
drew her phaser and struggled to aim. If she stunned him Koven might well
tumble in, but he might fall back as
well; and taking a chance that might save him was definitely better than the
certainty of watching him die.
She pressed the trigger.
Linar had always believed herself Blessed of the Prophets. They
had favored her with an attractive form, a keen mind, and a devotion to them
that, while deep, had always remained cool and steady.
Now, though, that cool steadiness threatened to desert her.
Her senses reeled, as something
ascended from below … and Koven strained to join it before it reached them.
She, too, had been chosen to undertake this expedition for a
reason: Her familiarity and facility with certain ancient texts—texts that
contained passages difficult to read,
let alone comprehend or commit to memory. Now Linar again drew on that ancient,
nigh-forbidden knowledge, and strove to weave those incantations into a defense
against whatever climbed towards them.
She heard the whine, saw the flash as Meredith fired her phaser …
and its beam curled away from Koven and plunged into the well, devoured by
darkness.
Almost, Linar turned and ran, vedek though she was; but something
kept her rooted to that place, chanting… fighting.
And when at, last, Vedek Tared Linar saw the face of that which
she opposed, looming above them all, she belatedly realized it hadn’t been
faith that had restrained her.
It had been the awareness that she couldn’t escape.