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2

The room was dark, lit only by a few ceremonial candles. There were no windows, no connection to the outside world of any kind. Only the candles, a few statues, and of course, the central desk, decorated in red velvet, sat in this place. Chairs of the standard shape were arranged around the room, and those that sat in them did not find great comfort. Whether it was because of the construction of the chair or the delicate topics that were being addressed was unknown.

They were all men, powerful subjects of the planet, and they all sat with serious looks on their faces. They sat in silence, mulling over their discussion, before they began again.

"…This cannot be allowed to come to pass." The tallest of the group spoke forcefully.

"Agreed. The Kaipar must come to Bajor." Another, across from him, chimed in.

"But we cannot take her forcefully! We haven't the strength…"

"Silence, Bereth. No-one has brought up anything of the sort."

The youngest member of the apparent council was silenced by its oldest, who now stood, and gazed around the room. "Fifty years I have led this council, fifty years in silence, waiting for our time to rise. Now the Kaipar has returned to us, and along with her being we are presented with a great opportunity. I agree, we cannot let this pass us by. She must come to Bajor."

"But how can we…"

"I said that force will not be a necessity, Bereth…But the suggestion of force may yet bear fruit." He walked slowly around the table, looking deeply at each sitting member. "You know what I am referring to."

A few of the twelve still sitting nodded to themselves, and a few whispers of knowledge filled the room. "The Sleepers…"

"Yes. Assigned to each Bajoran that has entered Starfleet. One remains secure and anonymous on board the Federation starship.

That is how they will remain. Their information continues to be of great use. But there is another. On Terak…excuse me, Deep Space Nine. Tell me, Bereth, is the Maximillian still allowing visitors?"

He thought for a moment, and then answered. "…I believe so, their Captain has been most grac…"

"Then it is settled. Their generosity will be their undoing. The sleeper will go to the Maximillian. Send the instructions. Bring her to us."

"This isn't right, Jaydin, you know it isn't."

Teela Amor walked alongside Jaydin down the halls of DS9, trying to talk some sense to the young officer. A Bajoran herself, Teela knew better than most the pressures the splintered religions could put on their people. And as a former Captain of the Maximillian, she knew how to talk to the crew.

"This cult, they're trying to sway you. Make you think they have some sort of great power."

"What if they do? What if they can do what they say?"

"I've seen no sign of them during the council meetings I've sat in." Captain Amor was well traveled, often leaving the Maximillian to serve on an Advisory board, and served as Admirals Blobbin's and T'Kill's eyes and ears aboard their flagship, the Mighty Max. "If they're there, they're well hidden."

"Then you think there's a possibility."

"There's always possibilities." Jaydin's worried look returned, even as Teela tried to smooth it away. "That's why we're out here, Commander. That's why we left Bajor behind after the occupation.

The possibilities that there may be something beyond the war and hell that we've seen. They may be who they say they are, You may be their precious "Kaipar", seven orbs may suddenly appear in spacedock. We don't know. But I doubt it. And Admiral T'Kill doubts their claims are valid."

Jaydin sighed. "Great. More people knowing."

"It effects the Max, he has to know, you know that. Someday if you have a ship, or a fleet, you'll know."

"Not likely."

"There's always possibilities." Teela chuckled. "Put it out of your mind, Jaydin. It'll blow over, just as things do. We'll leave in a few days, and except from some ill-timed jokes from your android friend, this business will stay with the cult."

"I hope you're right, Captain."

"I usually am…That's how I got to be a Captain." She smiled, and left Jaydin then, heading to another section of the station.

Jaydin hadn't noticed where they had been walking to. It was the station's chapel. While it welcomed most religions from throughout the quadrant, it was quite obvious that this was a wholly Bajoran place. She entered, and looked around the room.

Red draperies adorned the walls, and the lighting was dimmed compared to the darkly bright hallways of the circular station. She sat at a pew, and attempted to gather her thoughts, still working it out. And it struck her that the answers would not be found here, but would be at her home, her ship.

When she returned to the Max she knew better than to try to talk to any of her colleagues in Medical, she would only get the same responses as before. Instead, she needed to talk to her true friends. She headed towards Critch's quarters, hoping that his and Overload's argument had been solved.

From the strained shout of "Come in" that came from his room, she knew it had, and not in the android's favor either. She walked into his quarters with a look of amusement, looking at the scattered holos and padds, noticing the overturned plants, and then up at Critch, his hair out of place, and the miniature droid that sat on his shoulder, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Droidsitting?" She allowed herself a smirk.

"I don't want to hear it." He sank into a beanbag chair, even as Databit ran into another room. Critch sighed, and gestured at the plant, its soil spread throughout the room. "That's your fault."

"My fault?"

"You just had to let him help you with the plant experiments."

"He's actually a pretty big help, when he's not investigating something. Sides, Overload's good with the plant stuff, and they're kind of a pair."

"Great, fine, what's happening?"

"I wanted to know what you thought of everything."

"Everything?"

"The Savior thing."

"Ah…" He was interrupted by a great crash, and sound of running water. "GAH!" Critch yelled, and jumped up and into the adjoining room. Databit was sitting in a pile of broken glass, and was drenched. Critch glared at him, as he looked up at who he considered to be one of his closest friends. "My experiment was a success!"

Databit was tossed out into the hallway a moment later, and Jaydin was ushered out as well. "Sorry, I'm due on shift soon, and I've gotta clean this up. Don't worry about this savior stuff. It's all Folktales and baloney."

She shook her head. "You think everything's baloney, Critch."

He agreed, and went back into his room with a wave. She shook her head. At least it was interesting around here. She turned and almost walked straight into Kelvok. Nonplussed as usual, he nodded at his Medical Officer. "Good day, Commander."

She started to say something, but thought better of it. He was thrown by the look on her face, though he, of course, didn't show it. Though he was half-Romulan, he only let the other half out on special occasions. "Can I help you with anything?"

It would have been easy to say "No, thank you", but she had to get this out. So it was she found herself back in the Battle Bar, talking to the second Captain today about the situation. And as he heard more, his anger rose.

"I let him on my ship as a Guest, not a gossip. I do apologize, Commander."

"It's not your fault, Kelvok. It comes with having an open-door policy, I guess."

"The situation will be rectified, Commander. He will be removed. This is interrupting your duties, and disrupting your life." He stood up quickly, nodded, and headed off, eager to find Mathias, eager to resolve this.

As he left, two individuals entered. One, a large Bajoran visitor, complete with ceremonial earrings, and the other, Databit, searching for his friend Jaydin, eager to share with her the results of synthetic alcohol, gravity, and a glass container. She would certainly be more interested with his results than Lieutenant Commander Starblade, who seemed to have a lot on his mind this evening. As he headed towards her table, the Bajoran sat in a dark corner, and reached into his robes. He removed a disruptor, late Romulan model, presumably handed down from the recent wars. He took careful aim at his target.

At the head of Lieutenant Commander Jaydin.