Vaughn raised his hands in what he hoped his counterpart would see as a gesture of peace. “I assure you, we fired noweapons at the cathedral.”

“Lies/prevarications,”the alien said. “Energy beams directed into cathedral/anathema originated onyour vessel. Withdraw!”The creature’s image vanished.

“The Nyazen commander has closed the channel,” Merimark said. “And they’re opening fire!”

“Red alert! Evasive maneuvers!” Eight decades of training and experience immediately shifted Vaughn from peacemaker to warrior.

Tenmei hastily tapped commands into her board, and the bridge shook fairly hard a moment later. Warning klaxons blared.

“Two direct hits on our forward shields,” Merimark said. “But they’re holding. Return fire?”

“Not yet. Mr. Bowers, how’s the transporter lock?”

Bowers’s voice came through the intercom, an agitated edge underlying it. “We’re doing our best to maintain it, Captain. But we won’t be able to keep it up much longer unless things settle down in a hurry.”

“Understood.”

“More of the Nyazen vessels are heading our way, Captain,” Merimark said.

The bridge rocked again, more roughly this time; the viewer flared with a painful brightness, a half second ahead of the automatic light filters. “At least five direct hits, fore and amidships,” Merimark said, one hand hovering over the weapons controls as she struggled to evade further hostile fire. “Shields down to eighty-two percent. Return fire?”

“No,” Vaughn said. “Just stay ahead of them.”

A deep rumbling sound briefly drowned out everything else, until Vaughn heard Merimark’s shout rise above it. “Aft shields are down! Ablative shielding’s taking some damage as well.”

The tumult and noise faded somewhat, though Tenmei still worked frantically to evade the hostile fleet, obviously paying particular attention to safeguarding the newly vulnerable stern section. The lights failed, replaced seconds later with red-tinted emergency illumination. An overhead conduit ruptured in response to another salvo, and ozone-tinged vapors filled the bridge. Vaughn coughed, trying to focus past his discomfort.

The comm system resounded again with Bowers’s voice. This time, he sounded distraught. “Captain, we’ve lost the transporter lock. There’s no way we can get the away team back at the moment.”

“Sir, if we don’t return fire, the away team won’t have a ship to come back to,” Tenmei said, her words pitched low, evidently solely for Vaughn’s consumption.

His daughter’s comment annoyed him, but he couldn’t deny that she was right. With no way to recover the away team—at least for now—there was simply no longer any point in putting the Defiantat risk.

Vaughn’s thoughts strayed to the four brave souls who had only moments ago leaped into the complete unknown. They had trusted him. Necessary or not, sounding the retreat now felt like a craven act of betrayal.

But his command instincts were too deeply ingrained to make any other choice possible.

“Withdraw into the system’s interior,” he said, his own reluctance a palpable force within his breast. “Pull back another ten million klicks sunward.”

Tenmei didn’t hesitate. “Aye, sir.”

“Maybe they’ll let us go,” Vaughn said as Tenmei brought the Defiantto a relative stop approximately .07 astronomical units closer to System GQ-12475’s distant, pale star. “Just like last time.”

Merimark placed a new tactical display up on the viewer, with icons showing the Defiant’s position, as well as those of the rest of the Nyazen blockade fleet.

“No such luck,” she said, no humor in her tone. “I think they meant what they said about wanting us out of the system.”

Nine of the hostiles were in hot pursuit of the Defiant,and were rapidly closing to weapons range.

Vaughn breathed a silent curse.

The away team members would have to be on their own for the foreseeable future. Or perhaps even longer.

20

His voice carried out over the crowd of faithful; even unamplified, it was strong, gentle, and almost melodious. The temple was full of worshipers at this special late-night service, and Vedek Capril was moved to see so many in attendance.

Mixed into the crowd were dozens of Bajoran dignitaries, politicians, entertainers, and other members of the clergy. As he sermonized, Capril couldn’t help but feel some pride that he had more vedeks in his flock tonight than in almost any past service he had ever attended, much less one that he had administered.

But Capril wasn’t so prideful to think that they had come to hear him in particular. Attendance was inordinately high because of the ceremonies tomorrow, during which Bajor would formally join the Federation. He had tailored his sermon carefully, speaking of unity and community, and of the need for peace and understanding as the Bajoran people were welcomed into the larger family of the universe.

“Bajor is poised at a precipice, metaphorically speaking,” Capril said, “but that need not frighten her faithful. Instead, we should look out from that cliff, surveying the beauteous lands and myriad new treasures that await our exploration. The will of the Prophets has brought us to this point in our history, a time when Bajor has gained innumerable friends and allies. We must—we will—embrace the glorious future that the Prophets have laid out for us.”

As Capril concluded his peroration, a rustle of motion among the congregation caught his eye. The worshipers were beginning to make ready to leave. Then a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, strode purposely toward Capril’s lectern. A heartbeat later, the young man had turned to face the milling worshipers. Before Capril could gather his thoughts, the man removed his earring and ceremoniously dropped it to the floor.

“For Kira Nerys,” the young man intoned. Then he stood quietly beside the lectern, his eyes closed as though in prayer or meditation.

Capril was beside himself with surprise, as were most of the worshipers, each of whom sat or stood about in stunned silence. But before Capril could make a move to remonstrate with the man, another supplicant, this one a middle-aged woman, stood and walked toward the lectern. Like the young man, she turned to the congregation, solemnly doffed her earring, and said, “For Kira Nerys.” Her voice was aimed for the back of the temple. Like the young man beside whom she stood, the woman immediately lapsed into silence. Now a third supplicant, a young woman, stood and repeated the behavior of the first two.

Ohalavaru,Capril thought. He was rapidly growing irritated, though it occurred to him that these people could have caused far more disruption had they not waited until the close of temple services to undertake their little demonstration.

But this was still unacceptable behavior within the hallowed walls of a Bajoran shrine.

“For Kira Nerys.” Yet another Bajoran rose to remove an earring, and stood beside the growing cluster of Ohalavaru. Two more. Then another. “For Kira Nerys.” Several more people joined the group.

Voices were rising in consternation throughout the chamber. Looking out across the congregation of perhaps sixty or so lay people and vedeks, Capril saw that he was far from alone in his vexation.

“For Kira Nerys.” This time it was a woman, barely old enough to have completed her schooling. Her robes were brightly colored, trimmed with various brocades from over a dozen Bajoran regions. Like the others beside her, she stood still—passive, yet at the same time resolute.