Neither Ghidorah nor The Doomsday Machine really passed close to the several worlds that make up The Cardassian Legatorium. But the panic they inspired unleashed a wave of evil that would soon consume all that this culture had ever accomplished. Unwilling to accept this fate, reluctant Acting Head Of State Enabran Tain prayed for guidance, and this prayer was answered by The Prophets Of the now-vanished but nevertheless safe planet Bajor. Told that he was now their Emissary to the people of Cardassia, Tain used the files of The Obsidian Order to find those suspected of opposing the state. This list now became their salvation, as 150,000 of them left in Space Arks, to take up residence on the dead duplicate of Bajor that replaced the living world. Among them was Toram Dukat, a businessman weeks away from a nervous breakdown before the chaos began. Now his people turn to him as much as they do Tain. Can the man whose name is elsewhen synonymous with selfish treachery learn from the mistakes of others--and offer spiritual guidance to a people in desperate need? The Cardassians destroyed their worlds once--will it happen again? Or can this nightmare universe provide one man hope of deliverance?

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THE CARDASSIAN SPACE ARKS, 2286 - ON ROUTE TO THE RUINED GARDEN, ONCE THE PLANET OF BAJOR

The questions were coming fast and furious. Toram Dukat was fighting to keep his head together, unsure as to why he was being asked his opinion on such weighty subjects.

"Why didn't the Prophets protect Q'onos, or Romulus? Why aren't they protecting Vulcan as we speak?"

Dukat shrugged.

"I really can't say. Maybe--the Prophets didn't create the universe. Maybe they just offer advice and try to help those in need, through enlightenment."

"What if we ignore their advice? Will we be sent to dwell with The Pagh Wraiths?"

Fortunately, Toram knew the answer to this one.

"Sadly--that is no longer an option. The Rock destroyed The Pagh Wraiths. That is the female Rock did. Her given name is--Savikia, or somesuch. So I guess The Fire Caves are now--just caves."

"Can she do that? The Rock, I mean."

He had been so close to insanity, once. But now, he gave answers. The more he gave, the more balanced he felt.

"Apparently, she did do that. I mean, she and---Petrirk—human names--are meant to kill Ghidorah itself. There's apparently a pecking order for demonic beings."

"So--what happens if we ignore their advice? Do we simply cease to exist?"

As much as being turned to brought him joy, Dukat was exhausted, and would soon have to stop.

"No. We don't cease to exist. We just don't--er, live long and prosper."

"If Emissary Tain was of The Obsidian Order, why should we trust him?"

Another good one, and another one that Dukat had considered.

"He found us all by using the Order's files. Among the reasons we were suspected was a common interest, however passing, in Bajoran religion. In fact, it seems like many of us knew more than most Bajorans. So Tain turned those files on their head--and we all benefited."

In fact, he had ordered pamphlets on several religions, including a human one where the leader knew he was to be betrayed--and allowed it to happen. Problem was, Dukat had never read the tome further to see how the story turned out. He hoped someone somewhere knew.

"In what way should we change? After all, the art and literature we've gone to so much trouble to save came from the same culture that just destroyed itself."

The sweat was pouring down his face, stinging his ridges with salt and potassium. He smelled, and so did the people who were peppering him with questions. Outside, endless space seemed a little more endless than usual. The air inside the arks was eminently breathable, but its quality was beginning to drop. Already a people who preferred solitude were learning to live without solitude or privacy. Dukat's eldest son now showered in the company of a comely, smart girl who seemed likely to make Toram a grandfather. But no worry bothered him, to be certain. They needed children, as much as they needed faith. The Arks, despite the lacks mentioned, were vastly underpopulated. They were meant for many more survivors than actually made it.

"We--should change by not being Cardassian any more. Now, since we are obviously Cardassian, this will fail. But by trying to move away from what we are, we will find out what we truly are, as opposed to what we think we are. The good, we'll keep--a lot of the other things—the plans, the spying, the acquisition of land by any means---we may just find out were habits, rather than nature."

He waited and hoped for the one question that could excuse him. It came.

"If I lose an arm on this plane, then go to dwell with The Prophets, will the arm be waiting for me?"

Dukat slapped his hands together.

"I--must commune with The Prophets, to give you a proper answer. The reply seems--fuzzy--now. Just ask again later."

"Ask later?"

"Yes--Definitely!"

As he fell back in his chair, Dukat felt a sweet exhaustion, but he was tired more than elated. Tain walked up.

"You're making that up as you go along, aren't you?"

Dukat nodded.

"Emissary--please forgive---"

"Tut-tut, my friend. I said I knew you were making this up as you go along. I never said you were doing a bad job of it. Care to talk with someone about it?"

"If I could."

Tain brought out a human, a man of middle age and humble bearing.

"Meet--my Uncle Francis. He is The Priest."

The human smiled.

"A pleasure to meet a member of The Dukat line seeking the light for a change."

Toram looked at Enabran.

"You--are part human?"

Tain shook his head.

"Francis Mulcahy is merely the human name that my mother's brother used when he wore human form, in the Earth's  late pre-Contact period. In fact----"

He gestured toward The Priest.

"Francis is A Prophet."

Toram Dukat nodded, allowing his gratitude for such a thing to drown out the absurdity of it all.

"Priest--I too need answers. Chiefly, I need to know why The Prophets favored Bajor, before us? Were we unworthy?"

Francis pulled a book out of nowhere.

"That, my friend--is a long story....."

"It would seem, Priest, that I have time."

The Prophet Francis Mulcahy began his story.

"The Prophets left their home, curious about the universe their Sire had created. In time, they found that their fallen brothers and sisters had become The Pagh Wraiths, servants of evil. It became their greatest desire to crush that evil--to crush all evil. But every plan they came up with involved almost as much bloodshed and pain as simply not opposing the Pagh Wraiths would have."

Toram Dukat nodded.

"Wars--just or unjust--tend to take their tolls. But if the Prophets' cause was infinitely just, then why didn't they simply prosecute it? If the gods above don't know right from wrong, then who can know?"

Mulcahy shook his head.

"No--don't you see? The correctness of one's cause does not give one leeway to do anything and everything. Rather, it forces one to adhere ever more strictly to a code of ethics. If there are violations of that code, then they will remain exceptions--not the rule."

Dukat thought he understood.

"Then, even though we know the rules will be broken, we must have them? Of course. If people violate codes of decency when those codes are active, then how will they act if there are no rules? Like we did, during the panic."

Mulcahy smiled at the seeming breakthrough.

"Yes. If those rules of law, common sense, and decency do not exist, then all is a naught but a great vacuum. Into that black hole pours all hope, all light, as life becomes little more than an escalating series of atrocities. But if the laws that bind us are known, then we will keep to them even in the worst of times, and the strength they give us will see us through any and all adversity."

Dukat's conversion was sincere, though it was also far from complete.

"But again, why were the Bajorans so favored over all others?"

Mulcahy pulled back a bit, realizing that awakening the mystery of faith for Cardassians might involve more initial questions than he had thought. But as Boxer, Priest, Immortal-Watcher and Prophet, he had learned how to persevere as he had learned nothing else.

"Favored--is the wrong term. Toram, had you ever dealt with bullies, when you were a child?"

"I think all children have."

"Exactly. And did you then band together with other children, to survive their wrath?"

"Again, a common tactic."

Francis dearly hoped that by using a bit of Cardassian chicanery, he could draw out Dukat's doubts.

"And once in a while, wasn't your scout-- the child who looked to see if the bullies were about--beaten senseless, as they were caught?"

Dukat closed his eyes.

"His name was Raktu. Small, but scrappy. They always wanted a piece of him. Eventually, he agreed to be our scout permanently. There was a peace about him--but make no mistake, he would fight. They destroyed him, eventually--but it took thirty of them to do it. By that point, they were no longer in the best of health. They never bothered us again, which is really all we ever wanted. Strange. I had allowed myself to forget Raktu. I had sworn I never would."

Francis pressed his advantage.

"In that memory lies your answer, Toram. The faith of my mortal life--and even my life now, to an extant, states that one man gave up his life to break evil's hold on the souls of men. A simplistic statement, but accurate. He suffered great hardships. Indeed at times, it seemed he attracted challenges from evil men as though he were a magnet--or a funnel. The evil he pulled towards him was trapped and destroyed forever, and others were spared as a result. As for one man, to spare a world and so much more, so for a world."

Dukat thought upon his words.

"Bajor. Bajor is a messiah-world?"

Mulcahy cleared up the confusion.

"In free-will, or even in predestination, an entire world may not be full of saviors. Make no mistake, the multiverse has seen and known evil Bajorans. And it would be wrong to say that every Bajoran would welcome its funnel status. But that is what the earliest Bajorans agreed to. Bajor is, throughout reality, mainly a victim meant to draw in evil. In some, it is a conqueror, and perpetrator of evil. But it is never apart from it all. There, evil always comes, and there may it be observed. The Bajor that left this universe will now serve in one of the greatest capacities of all. Its destiny is frankly beyond my considerable comprehension."

Dukat raised one last and perhaps most telling question.

"If Bajor is a funnel world, then why did it leave this place before disaster struck it? That would seem to contradict its purpose."

Mulcahy had been ready for this, as well.

"Because this, my son--is a very rare thing- a funnel Universe. As for one man, who took away sin for all, as for one world, whose earliest people agreed to bear an enormous burden--so for an entire universe, which drew evil from countless realms here--mostly in the form of King Ghidorah."

"So even Ghidorah is not always evil?"

"No-that's more or less a constant. He literally runs the gamut from caricature to chaos-bringer. Inbetween, the monster is a mostly forgettable foe that other like creatures defeat within the confines of a roughly hour-long fantasy. His foes, The Rock, are characters seen briefly, then never even referred to again. But here, they are life and death. Ghidorah is benign in one or more reality-clusters, but he is rarely beneficent."

Dukat surprised The Prophet with his next statement.

"Are the other versions of me that horrible, Priest? I'm sorry, but you brought it up."

"Yes--I did, didn't I? Would you like to see for yourself?"

He nodded.

"As they say, I am from Iruossim Province. I need to be shown."

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ANOTHER UNIVERSE, 2375

Dukat saw himself, or a man who looked vastly like himself. His face was twisted in an eternal sneer. Beside him, wounded, was a dark-skinned human with no hair on his head. Toram decided he liked the human better than his look-alike. The human, an officer of some kind, spoke.

"You say that you were a great benefactor to the people of Bajor. Then why are you so hated there?"

Dukat's double had an easy, if self-serving answer for the pointed question.

"The Bajoran people--MY people were too short-sighted to see all that I did for them, Captain! I protected so much of their culture. On Cardassia, we ate ours in an economic panic almost 80 years ago. But no one remembers that protection. If I had followed orders and erased their religious icons--they wouldn't know who their precious Prophets were."

The human seemed as unconvinced by the double's rant as Dukat himself.

"Maybe--they have trouble seeing past the labor camps, and the vast tracts of ruined farmland--not to mention the vast numbers of the 'dissapeared'."

Toram shook his head.

"You talk a good game, human--but that one is too far gone."

What happened next shocked everyone, even The Prophet Mulcahy.

"And what would you know of it, grandfather? Oh, Yes--I can see and hear you. My new friends have given me so very much. Your Tora is still alive. Your people turn to you--mine cast me out. Your rival and Emissary welcomes your aid--mine won't give me one bit of respect."

Toram angrily took the words right out of the human's mouth.

"Respect is earned, not granted. Never granted. As to the rest, my Tora is alive because I acted to save her. My people turn to me because I offer what I have--I don't demand what little they have. I barely know Tain. Like your Emissary, there is a struggle within him between the necessary and the just. But Tain knows there's a line--so does that
man."

Angry Dukat refused to give in.

"Don't any of you see? I was under orders to raze Bajor, and all its people. I didn't do it. When do I get thanked for that?!"

Toram saw a descendant that might be, and a frightening mirror, as well.

"You don't. People don't thank you for not killing them. Priest--may we go home? I'd say I've seen enough."

Angry Dukat shouted out.

"Come back, Grandfather! You died as an insane old man, lying in his own filth! COME BACK, OLD MAN!!!"

Captain Benjamin Sisko shook his head, mumbling.

"First, he's talking to his dead grandfather, now he's talking to Dax. Dukat's really gone, this time."

Sadly, this was a true statement, despite its inaccurate basis.

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THE CARDASSIAN ARKS, 2286

Toram looked up.

"Thank You, Priest. Must you leave us now?"

"I'm afraid so. The Rock have called upon their ally, The Young Traveler, and this reality is being sealed off, to prevent Ghidorah's escape, should they fail. Your lessons learned, I appoint you Kai over the chosen of the Prophets. Will you lead them?"

"I will. But what of Tain?"

Mulcahy began to fade.

"He is an explorer, and a finder. You are an administrator—an administrator of souls. Guard them well. As I now know you will."

"The other--will I end up like him?"

"Asking that question is your best answe...."

The omniversal Prophet with a mortal aspect from another reality was gone. Enabran Tain returned.

"Did he appoint you Kai?"

Dukat did a double-take.

"You knew?"

Tain smiled.

"Let's just say I had a notion of what he was here for. Tomorrow, I'll make the announcement. For now--your son's girlfriend has something to tell you. No need for intuition there. Will you allow the union?"

Dukat smiled.

"Jil Orra's physical looseness aside, she is a good girl. She's already told me of how she ran from her father's house, when he was torturing some poor soul. It was that running-not your message--that brought her to us. And since I no longer believe in blind fate...."

Tain wisely did not bring up his attraction to Tora Dukat, which he correctly thought was mutual. The girl was still just a shade too young, as yet.

"What sort of person do you think your grandchild will be?"

The journey to the Ruined Garden was not yet done, and it still would be an intriguing one. But for all its mystery, Toram Dukat knew one thing for certain.

"My grandson is going to be a living saint. Whether he wants to be or not. You see, with him, its really a zero-one option."

The Tain understood well these cryptic words. The journey to the promised land of Bajor continued.