This Gray Spirit

by Heather Jarman

  At last Kasidy said, “Please get on with your business, Vedek.”

  He cleared his throat, shifting a few times, and licked his lips. “The present state of affairs troubles me,” Yevir stammered. “I believe recent events bode ill for Bajor.”

  “I’m not in a position to do anything about the state of Bajor, Vedek,” Kasidy said pragmatically.

  “But I should be!” He stood up, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, his robes swishing as he walked. “I was chosen by the Emissary to be a spiritual leader among my people. As such, I should know how best to guide them. But for the first time since Captain Sisko set me on my present course, the way is dark to me.”

  Kasidy shook her head. This was a mistake…“If you’re truly concerned for Bajor, Vedek, you need to have this conversation with someone else. Somebody in the Vedek Assembly, the Chamber of Ministers…”

  “I’m not sure I know what to say to any of them. What I do know is my people have reached a crossroad on the path of the Prophets, with no arrow to point us toward the true way. They’re in danger of becoming lost, and I must learn what I need to do to help make things right.”

  “If you want to make things right, start by rescinding Kira’s Attainder,” Kasidy said tightly.

  Yevir frowned and looked away. “The Colonel’s standing within our faith is unrelated to this issue.”

  “If you want to have this conversation with me, in my house, it’s not.”

  Yevir was silent a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I know you have a close relationship with the Colonel. And in a way, Kira’s situation is part of the crisis in which my people now find themselves.”

  Concerned by where Yevir might be headed with this, Kasidy said, “Go on.” Give me one more reason, Yevir, and I’m tossing you out on your ass. See how good that looks on your application for kai.

  “As I said, from the start, I’ve tried to follow the way your husband laid out for me. Or, more accurately, what I believed that way to be. I sought to destroy Ohalu’s book because I truly believed that was best for Bajor. But now…now I’m not so sure…” He fell back into his chair, folding his hands tightly before him as he concentrated on what he needed to say. “The greatest moment of clarity in my life came when I spoke with the Emissary. I knew in that timeless instant he was setting me on the path I was always destined to walk, and that it would lead me to become kai.”

  “You sound almost as if you don’t believe that anymore.”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Yevir said softly, in tones that convinced Kasidy the admission was painful for him to make. “Nothing is unfolding in a manner I understand. The Ohalu text, the sundering of the faithful, the failure of the peace talks with Cardassia.…So much is happening that threatens Bajor’s spiritual well-being, I no longer feel I understand the role the Emissary chose me for.

  “I came here tonight—to you—hoping that whatever illumination filled him might have touched you and that you might…” His voice trailed off into silence. Finally he shrugged and said quietly, “I felt compelled to come.rdquo;

  Kasidy probed his face, searching for insincerity, and found confusion; Yevir appeared truly flummoxed. Not for the first time, Kasidy wished being the wife of the Emissary came with a handbook. “I wish I knew what Ben would have told you if he were here.”

  Closing his eyes tight, Yevir slowly shook his head. “I understand. I apologize for disturbing you. Forgive me.” In a paternal gesture, he lifted her hand off the armrest and pressed it between his own. “Thank you for your time, Captain Yates. I’ll let myself out.” He backed away, bowing—and froze, eyes fixed.

  Kasidy scanned herself, the floor, the furniture, for a clue as to what had transfixed Yevir. “What is it?” she said, worried.

  Still staring, he appeared not to hear her.

  She followed his eyes to the figurine Kira had placed on the coffee table before answering the door. Amber and gold, the flecks inside caught the firelight and shimmered with otherworldly radiance.

  “What is that?” he whispered.

  “It’s from B’hala. Unearthed during the excavation,” Kasidy explained. Jevonite, Eivos had said it was made of. Have I missed something?

  Hesitantly, Yevir reached toward the figurine, his trembling hand hovering. He looked at Kasidy. “May I?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Yevir scooped up the figurine, holding it in his palm, slowly turning it over and over. “I don’t have the right to ask, but—” He raised his eyes, wide with childlike wonder.

  “Take it. Please,” Kasidy said. “If it has some significance to you, then by all means, it’s yours.”

  He clutched the figurine tightly in his hand. “Thank you.” His head dipped in a respectful nod. “Thank you truly, Captain.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Kasidy protested, rising.

  “I believe the Prophets led me here for a reason. I don’t know exactly what it is yet, but this—” He held up the hand closed around the figurine. “—I think this may be the arrow I’ve been searching for.”

  Puzzling over his effusiveness, Kasidy walked him to the door. He believes he found what he came for, she thought as she waved good-bye. And knowing where you’re supposed to go can make all the difference. She watched Yevir until he disappeared around a bend in the road. I hope that soon the same can be said for Kira.

  Kira slammed her heels into the dirt with each brisk step, grimacing at the thought of that—that—of Kas having to deal with that man! Yevir wasn’t Kas’s problem, he was hers. Disgusted, she spat. I know how to take a hint from the universe.

  Yevir showing up as she was attempting to untangle her snarled life had to be a sign that she wasn’t meant to understand “why.” Why Thriss took her life only two days before Shar’s message arrived from the Gamma Quadrant. Or why some bastard felt the need to make an example out of Ziyal—yet again. And her favorite “what-the-hell-is-he-thinking” question mark, Shakaar. Sure, she had her quarrels with him on an interpersonal level. He might use their past together as leverage over her politically, but she had trusted his leadership skills. So what happened to cause Shakaar to suddenly come down with a case of blindness equal to or surpassing Yevir’s? Bajor was being led on both the secular and religious fronts by blind men. And who was she to even presume she was better than them? Nothing she was doing seemed to be working out either. To expect guidance or answers when her whole world might be walking into darkness was pretty selfish of her. She needed to let go and trust that the Prophets had a plan. Surely they wouldn’t let Bajor fail because of the stupidity of her servants. Damn! She kicked at the dirt, sending rocks skittering. Following the gentle slope down to the riverbank, her walk gathered speed, gradually becoming a full run.

  The moon’s wan face rippled silver on the water’s surface, its pale illumination providing enough light to see by. A chilly breeze blew off the river, rattling the dry leaves clinging to the trees and numbing Kira’s ears. Breathing deeply burned her lungs but she pressed on, picking her way around the clumps of river grass. She relished pushing her body until her sides ached, being driven by instinct instead of rational thought.

  How long had it been since she let go? Keeping a tight reign on her emotions was part of her duty. When everyone around her completely unspooled, Kira remained in control. Take away her beloved captain. Take away her love. Take away her right to publicly practice her religion. Throw disillusionment, confusion and frustration at her and she’d bat them away, one, two, three. Nothing to it, because that’s who she was. But now the rules of the game were changing yet again, and she began to doubt her ability to keep up.

  Kira followed the path away from the river into the forest where gnarled, knotted trees cloaked her in shadow. She continued running. With each step, she gagged on the pungent smoke-tinged wind blowing over from the adjoining farm. She pushed through anyway.

  I’ll keep going as long as my body has breath, if that’s what the Prophets want
from me, she vowed. If she had to pinpoint what intimidated her most about the road ahead, it was the sense that she was headed straight for a cliff with only the hope that there was some good to be achieved by her jumping.

  Leaping over roots, she followed the twisting path, her view of the trail ahead obscured by tree trunks and waist-high bushes, bobbing and swaying. Her blood hammered in her throat and in her ears as her feet pounded the ground, until her boot hit something hard and she slammed into the path, knees first, then her chest, knocking the wind out of her. The stinging scrapes shocked her and she rolled over, tasting peaty dirt mingling with blood, leaves clinging to her clothes. A cry welled up in her throat but refused release.

  Flat on her back, Kira looked up through knobby, stripped branches at the starless sky, feeling sharp waves of pain stabbing through her knees. She clenched her teeth, focused intently on controlling her breathing.

  She lay on her back, listening to the murmuring wind, the occasional crack of a breaking branch, the swish of bird wings. Staring at the sky, she pretended the wormhole was fixed above her position, promising herself that if she could see the flash of it opening…

  She waited. She waited until damp numbness overtook her limbs and still, nothing. I don’t know what I was expecting. I should just go back. Kas will be worried. She sighed. Kira might have witnessed her share of miracles—and had exquisite spiritual experiences in her lifetime—but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the Prophets gave you a sign simply because you asked for one.

  Grunting, she eased herself up so she was sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her. Luckily, it didn’t feel like she’d sprained or broken anything, though she could feel small rocks embedded in the skin of her kneecaps.

  She brushed herself off and then, placing the heels of her hands behind her, she pushed off, succeeding only in dislodging a stone she’d braced herself against. Let’s see if I can do this without cracking my tailbone, too, she thought ruefully. But then her fingers brushed against the stone again, piquing her curiosity. This isn’t a rock. Yanking it free from where it was wedged under an exposed root, Kira held it out in front of her, hoping a beam of light breaking through the forest’s canopy would help her better see what she held.

  She thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her.

  Her hands began furiously brushing off the dirt encrusting the object. Muddy, frayed, and lost here among the trees of Captain Sisko’s land since when, she couldn’t say. But there was no denying what she held in her hand.

  A baseball.

  Stitching unraveling, leather stained and pocked, and so waterlogged it was unusable—but none of it changed the fact that Kira held one of the Emissary’s baseballs. Her mind raced. Kas had told her he used to bat them out here to clear his head, but—

  Slowly, Kira smiled. Then the laughter came, softly at first, but gathering strength until it engulfed her.

  Knowing Kasidy would be waiting, Kira returned to the path and pointed herself toward home.

  MISSION: GAMMA CONTINUES IN

  BOOK THREE

  CATHEDRAL

  About the Author

  Heather Jarman lives in Portland, Oregon. This Gray Spirit is her first work of professional fiction. She plans to return to the Star Trek universe soon.

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