“Father,” her sister was whining even before they docked the boat, “he’s making me play the Bajoran terrorist again. Iwant to be the gul this time!”
As Father went to settle yet another stupid argument between her siblings, she carried the container with the hevritover to Mother and Grandfather.
“I see you brought dinner,” Mother said with a laugh.
“I caught this!” she said enthusiastically. “Father helped a little, but I caught it all by myself!”
“Good for you,” Grandfather said. “That’s the way it should be done.”
Few compared to Mother when it came to cooking. Not only that, but she showed her daughter all the tricks, from how to skin the hevrit,the best way to remove the tiny bones from the meat, the proper removal of the head, and so much more.
Night fell, and Mother, Father, Grandfather, and all three children gathered around a fire that was more for illumination than warmth, as it was quite balmy here. As they feasted on the hevrit,the girl turned to her grandfather and asked him for a story.
“That seems only fair,” Grandfather said. “I think a story’s damn fine payment for this meal you’ve given us.”
Grandfather took a moment to adjust the way he was sitting, and he also set his plate aside. Then he leaned forward and started speaking to the three children. The girl was rapt with attention—she loved stories.
“Once there was a people who were very happy. They lived on the greatest planet in the galaxy, and everyone had enough to eat and they were strong. But soon they started to run out of food. And the planet that had given them so much soon ran out of things to give them. The people then became very unhappy. They suffered and starved and they were no longer strong.”
Then Grandfather sat up straight, startling the girl. “But soon, they found their way to the stars! And from the stars, they gained salvation, for there they found many more worlds that had food and minerals and so much else. Once again, they were well fed. Once again, they were strong.”
Her brother said, “Who are they, Grandfather?”
“Stu-pid,” her sister said, “he’s talking about us.”
Grinning, Grandfather said, “Yes, I do speak of our people.”
The girl was confused. “We were unhappy?”
“Not for very long,” Grandfather said in a reassuring tone. “Because we arestrong. We are, in fact, the strongest people in the galaxy. All that stands against us now are the many inferior species around us—humans, Bajorans, Klingons, Trills, Romulans, Vulcans, Andorians, Ferengi, Lissepians—but the Cardassian Union will always triumph. It is our destiny to spread our greatness throughout the cosmos.”
Grandfather leaned forward again. “Once, we found a world called Raknal V. It was ours for the taking, of course, but Klingon treachery tried to take it away from us. They made a fraudulent claim on the world, and the gullible fools of the Federation took their side. A senile old Trill tried to trick us into accepting a ridiculous competition, to make us fight for what was rightfully ours. In the end, of course, we triumphed. The Klingons gave us the world and the Trill let them. No amount of trickery, no amount of butchery, no amount of posturing could keep us from our destiny—nor will it ever.”
“Now then,” Mother said, “you should finish your hevrit.It’s time to get some sleep.”
Even as her siblings complained that they weren’t tired, the girl wolfed down the rest of her fish, then prepared her bedroll. After a long day of fishing, she was tired. Besides, she was an obedient child. She knew that if she remained obedient, she too would be strong, as a Cardassian should be.
As she lay down to sleep, she turned to her parents. “Mother? Father?”
“Yes?” they said in unison.
“Some day, I will grow up and join the military and be the finest soldier in the Union and I will find more new worlds that will bring glory to Cardassia!”
Mother, Father, and Grandfather all laughed. Father said, “Of that, my darling child, I have no doubt at all. But for now, go to sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll go home and tell your grandmother about the first fish you caught.”
Content with the day’s accomplishments, the girl drifted off to sleep. Her rest was peaceful and undisturbed, because she knew that she slept under the protection of the Cardassian Union…
Acknowledgments
The thanks must commence with editor Marco Palmieri, who conceived The Lost Eraand has shepherded it into existence. Marco is expert at taking the seed of many of the best stories (“Wouldn’t it be cool if…?”) and nurturing it into the most beautiful flower—or, in this case, a six-rose nosegay. (Hey, c’mon, people say my prose needs to be more florid…) I also must thank Ira Steven Behr and Robert Hewitt Wolfe, who wrote the Star Trek: Deep Space Nineepisode “The Way of the Warrior,” thus providing me with the basis for this novel in a conversation between Bashir and Garak about the eighteen-year Betreka Nebula incident between Cardassia and the Klingons.
My fellow Lost Eraauthors, Michael A. Martin, Andy Mangels, Jeff Mariotte, Margaret Wander Bonanno, and especially the ones on either side of me, David R. George III and Ilsa J. Bick, are all deities among scribes. David and Ilsa had several characters and situations in common with me, and both were a joy to work with. Our cooperative efforts have made our stories more coherent and, I hope, more enjoyable for the reader, which is, after all, the primary goal.
Also of tremendous use were various Star Trekreference tools, particularly The Star Trek Encyclopediaby Michael and Denise Okuda, with Debbie Mirek; Star Trek Chronologyalso by the Okudas; The Klingon Dictionaryby Marc Okrand; and especially Star Chartsby Geoffrey Mandel.
The Lost Erabooks in general and this book in particular had to weave stories from little dribs and drabs of information that the various TV shows and movies provided at many different stages. In addition to all those onscreen references (far too numerous to list here), I need to acknowledge the contributions of several works of written fiction that provided useful background material for some of the political, social, and physical forces at work in the Federation, the Cardassian Union, the Klingon Empire, and the Romulan Star Empire during this period: the comic book Enter the Wolveswritten by A.C. Crispin and Howard Weinstein; Peter David’s young adult book Worf’s First Adventure; the Dark Matterstrilogy by Christie Golden; the two-part Martok biographical novel The Left Hand of Destinyby J.G. Hertzler and Jeffrey Lang; the Garak biographical novel A Stitch in Timeby Andrew J. Robinson; Josepha Sherman and Susan Shwartz’s Vulcan’s Heart; and Lesser Evilby Robert Simpson.
I make a habit of thanking the actors who play the characters I portray in the text, which is a bit more of a challenge than usual in The Art of the Impossible, since so many of the folks herein are either of my own creation, or never appeared on-screen, or did so but briefly. However, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the contributions in providing voices, faces, and mannerisms of the following: Michael Ansara (Kang), Frank Owen Smith (Curzon Dax), Majel Barrett (Lwaxana Troi), Theodore Bikel (Sergey Rozhenko), Georgia Brown (Helena Rozhenko), Amick Byram (Ian Troi), John Colicos (Kor), Charles Cooper (K’mpec), Paul Dooley (Enabran Tain), Michael Dorn (General Worf), John Fleck (Koval), Danny Goldring (Legate Kell), John Hancock (Vance Haden), Richard Herd (L’Kor), Thelma Lee (Kahlest), Mark Lenard (Sarek), Nichelle Nichols (Uhura), Tricia O’Neil (Rachel Garrett), Christine Rose (Gi’ral), Alan Scarfe (Tokath), Gregory Sierra (Corbin Entek), and Ben Slack (K’Tal).