CARDASSIA PRIME
 
On the monitor, Acting Grand Legate Enabran Tain saw another great Arts Museum go up in smoke.
 
"Do they even realize what it is they're giving up?"
 
The former Obsidian Order operative once would have gladly destroyed any one piece of art, to further the aims of the state, or to torture an intellectual prisoner. But what was occurring was wholesale, and it served no purpose.
 
"No, Minister. No, no one yet knows what happened to Bajor, or our trade mission. Have me arrested? Good luck finding security forces to do it. To you too."
 
Bajor was gone. The gentle world they'd hoped to feed off of had passed through its fabled wormhole, which opened for no reason anyone could figure. The planet that had replaced it was a lifeless duplicate, ignored by Ghidorah.
 
"A statement? Very well. Stop panicking. Neither The Ancient Destroyer nor The Planet-Killer are anywhere near the Cardassian worlds. Stop killing your children. Stop cooking the politicians. Stop destroying the great works of our culture! Can the press use that?"
 
To be fair, there were originally rumors that the Federation task force that had slaughtered the Orions had picked Cardassia as its next target. But that rumor was months old, and the former UFP had held a grudge against The Orions. So far, its dealings with Cardassia had been minimal. It now seemed that they always would be.
 
"....toll reaches 800 Million on each major world. It seems that what King Ghidorah couldn't be bothered to do to us, we are instead doing to oursel...."
 
Tain turned off the newsfeed. He was the overwhelmed emergency acting head of a defanged government on a chain of dying worlds. Cold assessment sometimes cleared his head. But not this time.
 
So the man trained to serve the state now found that state lacking. He folded his hands and did something uncharacteristic.
 
He prayed.
 
"To anyone who may hear me, and I mean anyone at all. We're eating our souls, here. Unlike other resources, you can't just raid another world and get your soul back. The art--the literature--the monuments--everything that could bring us back, and show us the way, the people are destroying. They're not just hungry. They are cannibalizing their own limbs, believing that nothing matters. I believe that very little matters. But even I can't believe in nothing. I refuse to believe in nothing."
 
That refusal made all the difference.
 
In an instant, the air, which had smelled of flesh and paint burning, and of discharged blasters, turned sweet and pure. His darkened office was gone.
 
Instead, Enabran walked in a realm of light. In front of him were his parents, his spy-trainer, his wife, and his student.
 
"You people do of course realize that you're all dead?"
 
His mother.
 
"The Bajora have passed to safety."
 
His father.
 
"You must learn the path to safety."
 
His trainer.
 
"You have seen the soul, and declared that it is worth saving."
 
His wife.
 
"You will bear a message that this carnage will cease."
 
Tain shook his head.
 
"And just who am I to accomplish all this? This world may not want to be saved."
 
His student.
 
"You Are The Tain. You Are Our Emissary To The People Of Cardassia."
 
Enabran nodded.
 
"This should be interesting."

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The Prophets began their puzzle-talk, which had frustrated many a Bajoran cleric. But to Tain, who was almost bred to look for hidden meanings, it almost made clear and perfect sense.

"You Are The Tain. The Emissary."

"The Evil, that once you would have to displaced to Bajor, and would have then revisited you after The Changelings, has instead never left. It consumes you all."

Enabran asked the obvious.

"That much is apparent. So how may I defeat this evil?"

"You may not. This evil will consume all your worlds."

Tain briefly felt defeated, but the inquisitor in him took over.

"Then how may we survive this evil?"

It was the right question.

"This evil is part of the path chosen by your people. You must call upon those who have rejected that path, and make your way to The Ruined Garden."

Tain didn't even question that. Better a ruined garden than a dead one.

"I understand. But how will I find the ones of whom you speak?"

"Through Your Eyes And Ears, Which Have Taken Stock Of Such Before."

Tain almost kicked himself. It was so simple. After all, who had better access to a list of those in opposition to Cardassian ways than The Obsidian Order itself? He had just never fully realized before that he himself was among those he once would have deemed traitors. Yes, he had objections. But a wise Cardassian kept those to himself.

"Or was that a part of the trouble?"

"Now you begin to see. Think upon the vulgar expression. The one which tells of the direction in which waste products flow. So it is with evil and greed, no matter how great a pump one has."

That hit home. So many had put aside their objections, and plugged in to the culture of endless schemes and constant acquisition. Planning was good, but at some point the plans had to be lived. Gaining things was good, but if everyone was trying to get everything, then eventually there must be---

"Nothing at all. There's going to be nothing left. The Bajorans were spared being conquered. And we--we were spared being conquerors!"

Tain had learned as much as his mind would permit him, so one by one The Prophets vanished. All but his mother.

"Why do you remain?"

"Touch my hand, Emissary."

He did, and when he did, there was no denying her true identity. It was a touch that every child knew well.

"You--you're not just wearing my mother's form, are you?"

She smiled.

"Walk our path always---my son."

Back again in the real world, Enabran Tain pulled up a massive list of the most hardcore and vocal of dissidents. Struggling for a time with what to say to them, he decided that they were still Cardassians, and used the current situation to have them overlook who he once was. The message was concise, and gave no details. Only the favored, the strong and the smart would respond. All others would reject it in favor of continuing the ruination of their worlds.

Outside, in every Cardassian city, everyone saw the great hooked spires burn like giant cave-torches wielded by gargantuan primitives. The common areas were littered with the bodies of the dead, raped, and butchered. Gangs of blank-eyed maniacs roamed, preying upon the dying because there was no one left to wound. Others headed for caves in the hills, seeking safety. None was found, for the state had long been using the caves as a toxic waste collection site.

But in some homes, a message was found and read.

The man in one home had been a mere businessman, but had kept his family educated and aware, in case the old ways would ever return. In truth, he had been mere weeks away from a nervous breakdown that would have created a history of mental instability in his line. But in this case, his hope was answered by Tain's simple directive, which he now read aloud, as did the relative handful of Cardassians like him.

"Come With Me If You Want To Live."

And in that message Toram Dukat found hope of deliverance.

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Into the sealed government complex poured the refugees, during the brief time it opened. All were recipients of Enabran Tain's message. There were missing limbs and eyes. There were missing spouses and children. There was missing hope and faith. The nervous Tain would have preferred restoring the dead, for at least there he had science to back him up.

The air was filled with the sound of thunder, but Ghidorah was on Planet Vulcan. Great beams lanced out, destroying whole counties in the distance, and yet the Planet-Killer, or Doomsday Machine, was currently cutting the 'god' of Edo III into ribbons. As with most carnage on Cardassia, it was of Cardassian origin.

Some math on capacity and a quick head count told Toram Dukat that the large complex held barely 150,000 people. He wondered if that was enough to keep genetic viability for the species, in the long-term. He thought of his wife, shot dead by a looter as she looked back one last time at the house they were abandoning. He then realized who the people he was waiting with were. No one would question him if he simply mourned her, and didn't make chit-chat about her dowry and estates.

"The problem is, I'm not sure I remember how anymore."

The confused man held his weeping children, and waited for Tain to arrive. They didn't need to wait long. The man came out, the head of a Cardassia that no longer was.

"I cannot claim to have all the answers you need. But those who once watched over vanished Bajor now grant us a very small chance to live past this cleansing by fire. The good news is that we have Arks. Arks that can easily hold all of us, supplies, our art and literature, and some reminders of why we grew so very vain, proud of our many accomplishments as we were."

A voice from the crowd.

"What's the bad news?"

Tain nodded.

"Our Arks can escape these dying worlds, just as all of you escaped other of our worlds to come here to PrimeWorld. But their propulsion units are in vast disrepair. We will orbit our dying system until rescued or killed."

Toram Dukat had been on the verge of a breakdown for some time. So it was that to calm himself, he held out his arms at either side, and let what wind there was flow past them. He closed his eyes, and imagined that his jacket flaps were like a bat's wings, gliding free.

"Gliding! Gliding! Emisarry!"

Tain was dismissing no one's talk, then and there.

"Yes? You are...?"

"I am Toram Dukat, Emisarry. Gliding. That is our answer. The solar winds. Don't you see? Like the Bajorans of old, we can ride the solar winds away from here. Surely the Arks can be reconfigured to utilize that."

Another voice from the crowd.

"Ridiculous! The Bajorans never did that. It was all lies, meant to pump them up mentally."

Tain shook his head.

"No. That was truth. The Obsidian Order tried to make it lies--and I should know. Maybe that's part of why I was chosen. I already know what the truth is."

In truth, it was not difficult to make the crafts solar-wind capable. As the retooling went on, armies of looters fell dead outside the compound walls. Tain had them gassed, as they rushed the place.

"Its a fair bet they weren't chosen. You there! Why did so few respond to my call? This is quite literally a matter of life and death, you know."

Teelus Damar shrugged.

"Many of us were targeted as we came here, Emissary. I believe that we alone seek another place."

And Tain found that all too believable.

As the final boarding took place, Tain noticed many turning to Dukat, as often as they did to him. To some, that would mean a reduction in power. But Enabran saw it as a reduction in burden. Dukat sat beside him with his five children, a trifle stressed.

"They have questions."

Tain nodded.

"That's understandable."

The Arks lifted off, and below them, plumes of flame dotted the receding map. The grounds shook, and people laughed as others were sucked into the ground.

Teelus Damar approached Tain.

"Emissary--what is happening below us?"

Dukat's eyes held the same question.

"My predecessor as Head Of State? He didn't merely commit suicide. He activated UnLife."

Toram Dukat shook his head.

"UnLife is only a myth."

Damar shrugged.

"So is Ghidorah."

UnLife was a post-mortem weapon, a last ditch effort to prevent an enemy from occupying the Cardassian worlds. Tain looked down. The plumes were joining together as they rose, in circles of orange and red.

"On each world, a sealed sphere at the planet's core contains 500 kilograms of anti-matter. That fool broke the seals. Its all gone, now. I've never minded striving. But let the grasping and clutching die with our poor worlds."

Dukat brought a young woman to meet Tain. Enabran thought about the long journey to the ruined garden that was once a planet called Bajor, and of an odd dream he'd had of buried spires rising back up. He needed to think it all through-after he got some rest--right after he met the person Dukat was bringing to him.

"Emissary--this is my eldest daughter, Tora. Go and ask your question, my dear."

Tain felt that she had a very old soul.

"Emissary--we will follow The Prophets' teachings--but what would they have us do?"

Tain felt the sails come online, and smiled, despite it all. There would be more days for his people, and better days to boot. And—a little religion, he decided, never hurt anyone.

"Don't worry--Tora. The Prophets will let us know their will. Trust me--they're good for that."

With that, The Emissary said goodnight to those people who would serve as his people's first and second Kais. He looked out his window, into space.

"Is desiring change and redemption truly enough?"

The answers lay ahead for the weary pilgrims, but they would be found.

The End...for now.