Yevir answered without hesitation, a serene smile on his lips. “The Prophets will provide, Gul Macet.”

“I think I may have a suggestion.” A voice called out from the shadows surrounding a nearby pile of rubble. Sliding smoothly from the darkness was a middle-aged Cardassian man, his body lean and whip-strong, his black hair slicked back.

With wide eyes and a friendly demeanor, the man stepped toward Yevir and Macet. He extended his hand in an attempt to shake theirs. Macet knew that the newcomer had picked up the custom during the long years he had spent living among humans and Bajorans.

He greeted Macet first. “Gul Macet, always a pleasure. You’re looking fit. And familiar. By the way, that boy with the atrocious manners is called Mekor. One of the children of Skrain Dukat. I believe he may have been expressing his sincere regret that his late father never found the time to take him here while the amusement park was still in operation.”

The new arrival turned next to the half-dressed Bajoran. “Vedek Yevir, how good it is to finally meet you after having read so much about you. I must confess that I never expected to see a member of the Bajoran clergy in such a state of dishabille. At least, not since I left the haberdasher’s trade. My name is Elim Garak. And I believe I may have the solution to our mutual problem.”

13

“Evasive maneuvers!” Vaughn shouted just before the Nyazen flotilla opened fire.

But there were simply too many of them. The first salvo rocked the Defianthard, and Vaughn gripped the arms of his command chair as the bridge pitched forward and the red emergency lights came on. T’rb sprawled headlong onto the deck, but regained his footing a moment later, evidently not seriously hurt.

“Bowers, engage cloaking device!” Vaughn said, loath to play this card so early in the game but seeing no viable alternative.

Bowers quickly entered one command, then another. He shook his head and regarded Vaughn grimly. “Cloak’s off-line, Captain. Return fire?”

“Starting a war isn’t one of our mission objectives, Lieutenant.” Vaughn said with a stony scowl.

“Shields are down to forty-two percent,” Bowers reported.

Shar righted his capsized chair and returned to his console. “All thirteen ships fired on us simultaneously with something resembling a compression disruptor,” he said.

“We took at least seven direct hits,” Bowers added.

A single compression disruptor would be no match for one of the Defiant’s pulse phaser cannons, and would pose no serious threat to her shields. But having to face more than a dozen Nyazen tubes simultaneously was quite another matter.

Vaughn acknowledged his science officer with a nod, then turned back to Bowers. “Damage report.”

“There’s been some buckling in the ablative armor,” Bowers said. “And a minor hull breach on deck three, aft starboard. Force fields are holding. Nog and Celeste are already on damage-control detail.”

“All weapons operational,” Shar said, his antennae flattening forward in apparent belligerence.

“We still have warp and impulse power, Captain,” Tenmei said, glancing at Vaughn significantly as if to say, Now would be a good time to use a whole lot of both.

Not yet,Vaughn told himself. I haven’t got what I came here for yet.

“We’re being hailed,” Bowers said.

The Nyazen captain’s indistinct oblong face suddenly reappeared on the bridge viewer. “Withdraw/begone,”he said, the venom behind his words belied only slightly by the translator’s crystal-chime voice. “Warning offered/given but once/this single instance.”

“We don’t want to fight you,” Vaughn said. “But we’re prepared to defend ourselves.”

Tenmei cast a brief Oh, really?glance over her shoulder at him. Then, for the Nyazen’s benefit, she put on the face she always used just before Bowers trounced her on poker night.

But Vaughn ignored his daughter’s quiet impertinence. “All we want is temporary access to the…cathedral.” He rose and spread his hands before him. “Our need is urgent.”

The turbolift door opened, and Vaughn saw Ezri enter the bridge. Though she still looked somewhat shaky, she was clearly no longer anywhere near death’s door.

“Less than microscopic is concern of mine/ours for your need/desire,”the Nyazen sang. “You harbor/succor our enemy/blood-hated ones. None such may approach/loom upon cathedral/anathema.”

“The Nyazen are claiming ownership of the object,” Ezri said, now standing almost directly behind the captain’s chair. She didn’t appear to be addressing anyone in particular. “And they don’t want any D’Naali near it.”

Great,Vaughn thought. He wants to destroy us just because we’ve still got Sacagawea aboard.

Vaughn tried to project calmness and reason as he regarded the bulbous alien on the screen. “There must be some way we can reach an agreement. Perhaps something we can trade—”

The Nyazen abruptly vanished, the communication apparently terminated at the other end.

“Their weapons are powering up again, Captain,” Bowers said, anxiety evident beneath an enforced poker-night calm. Vaughn saw that he and Tenmei were both looking to him expectantly, each clearly ready to follow him through the gates of hell if need be.

“Sir?” Tenmei said as the moment stretched.

“Withdraw,” Vaughn said. He chafed with frustration, but could see no alternative that would protect the lives of his crew, his D’Naali guest—and the Nyazen, with whom he had no quarrel other than their refusal to allow him access to the artifact. Perhaps later, and from a safer distance, the aliens could be persuaded to let him approach the object.

If not, he would have to bypass them somehow. And sort out the ethical proprieties later.

A gloom descended across the bridge. No one spoke for a seeming eternity as Tenmei quickly brought the Defiantabout and put ten million kilometers between her and the Nyazen fleet.

“No sign of pursuit,” Bowers said. “All thirteen of the Nyazen ships are maintaining their positions around the artifact.”

“Keep station here,” Vaughn instructed Tenmei. “Full stop.”

“Full stop.”

“A blockade,” Ezri said. “They won’t chase us, but they won’t let us approach either.”

“A blockade can’t stop what it can’t see,” Vaughn said, then tapped his combadge. “Vaughn to Nog. How long until the cloak is back on-line?”

Nog’s response sounded harried. “One of the mains is blown, and a whole bunch of EPS relays are down. We’re looking at a few days, at least.”

Vaughn turned that information over in his head. At the rate Bashir was declining, he surely didn’t havea few days. “Then we’ll have to find a short-term, work-around solution. Nog, I’m hereby putting you and Shar in charge of getting us close enough to the artifact to beam an away team over—without letting the Nyazen blow us out of the sky first. Use anybody you need, and bring me a plan in four hours.”

Nog’s response took a beat longer than Vaughn expected. “We’ll get right on it. Nog out.”

Vaughn saw that Shar was already on his way to the turbolift, leaving Ezri standing beside the empty science station. She stared at the console, touching its smooth surface tentatively, looking as though she’d never seen its like before. Now that she was suddenly shorn of the memories of Dax’s previous hosts, Vaughn supposed that probably wasn’t terribly far from the truth.