Light In the Darkness

 Episode Name:  Light In the Darkness

   Written By:  spider

         Cast:  Anish, Parva, Spider, Taimol, Tolena and Toralin.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Spider

     Aired On:  Fri Sep 12 03:31:49 2003

     Stardate:  53503.1

Time: Thu Sep 11 21:31:07 2003

Stardate: 53502.5

A screen lights up in an otherwise entirely darkened room. Moments later, heavy Bajoran text appears:

Accessing Archives

Vedek Assembly

Subspace Communications Stardate: 53328.7
Accessed Stardate: 53502.4

The screen, bifurcated by a thin black line, shows the quarters of Vedek Toralin Jerrod (as they were two months ago, when the Vedek and Prylar met, awaiting the first transmission from the Vedek Assembly that would elect a new Kai) on one half, and on the other, the main hall of the Vedek Assembly itself. In this retrospective view, the Vedeks and their Prylar aides are, well, /assembling/ presently, gathering in little clumps of variously-colored robes denoting their orders and overt affiliations; they move from group to group, clumping and dispersing, greeting one another and spending a few precious moments politicking before the speeches are set to begin.

The room is large and circular, with a central address floor sunken into the Bajoran soil; rows upon rows of seats with tables set before them are stepped up from that central address floor to ground-level, where a sort of Mall at the top level is encircled by large windows. It is morning on Bajor, despite being late evening on s419, and those windows pour bright yellow summer sunshine over the Assembly; it's a rather brilliant and joyous sort of counterpoint to the serious business going on inside. The sharp-eyed politicos inside the Assembly may peer about (looking to see who has moved where in the delicate dance of seating within the Vedek Assembly) while attempting to look as casual as they possibly may, as if weighed down by the gravity of the situation as would be proper (all the while angling for advantage); outside, it is still summer, and summer goes on as if it really could care less about all of this.

Rows of stairs divide the flocks of clergymen, leading up to the Observation Mall above, now becoming choked by gaggles of Ranjen and Prylars, all of whom have likely worked very hard to assure themselves one of the standing-room-only spots along the rail. One could, of course, observe such a thing via internal communications systems, but being able to see this live and in person is such a thrill and an honor. It is the sort of thing which indicates status to those concerned with such things. Their bodies mitigate the light sent inside by the windows; these youth - and those not-so-young - and their largely-cynical graspings at the threads of power cutting off summer from the Vedeks below. At the small tables before each set of seats, occasional yellow reading lights go on like oversized fireflies blinking into life, so that those nearby may read from PADDs or the terminals set into the aforementioned tables. Things are settling in and settling down, and now the tension in the air begins to thicken like jumja sap exposed to the air. It is palpable even via subspace.

Toralin Jerrod is no different today than he usually is: stately, berobed in red, with his simple earring glistening in the soft light of his quarters. A cup of tea rests in the crook of a hand, which in turn rests in his lap. He's watching the screen with the relaxed calm of the greatly aged; he's seen it all before. He does, however, spare a glance at his aide, the Prylar, along with a small, reassuring smile.

Anish is a little more anxious than normal, perhaps excited. He's never participated in the election of a kai before, he's never even seen one. He has a similar cup of tea with him, no doubt provided by Toralin. He settles himself to watch the proceedings, and returns the smile from Toralin, looking just a touch sheepish. "I probably seem a bit silly to you, so excited. How many elections have you seen? Does the process generally take a long time?" He pauses. "Do you have any ideas about the major candidates?" Yes, a chatterbox.

The old man chuckles softly. "Not at all silly, my boy. This is a momentous occasion, as all such elections are." He sips his tea. "Forgive me for vicariously enjoying your excitement." He turns back to the screen. "I have some ideas, yes, but I'd rather hear your ideas as each candidate presents themselves. I wouldn't want to sway your opinion before the talks begin, as I'll later be requesting your own thoughts." Another smile. "I'd prefer to have them without prejudice."

. o O Toralin feels sedate, relaxed. He's looking forward to this.

. o O Toralin thinks "And may the Prophets present us with someone less of a snake in the grass than Winn Adami!"

Anish returns the chuckle. "Oh, there is nothing to forgive. After all, I believe that is a privilege you've earned." He pauses. "And I understand if you want my unfettered opinion. I'm not sure what value my opinion will have to you, but for what it is worth, I'll give it." He grins. "If nothing else, I'm looking on the event with unjaded eyes."

Toralin nods slowly. "Precisely, my boy, precisely." He looks back to the screen. "I wonder if the Emissary's wife will be present?"

Anish turns back to the screen as well. "I'm not sure, but it should prove to be most interesting if she is." He looks the screen over as he speaks. "Do you expect her to attend?"

<CONTEST> Toralin contests his Search skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

<CONTEST> Anish contests his Search skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

If the Emissary's wife /is/ in attendance, neither of the clerics on s419 can spot her in the assembly.

Toralin nods. "I would expect her to be invited, at least. I imagine that, if she chose to ally herself with one faction, the results would be most spectacular." He sips his tea again.

Anish nods to that as he ceases his search. "I don't see her there, but that doesn't mean anything of course. But yes, if she has chosen to ally herself with a particular candidate, it will prove to be a major point of contention in the election." He settles back and sips his own tea. "I suppose that we'll see soon enough."

Toralin seems to be mulling that over. "I find it unlikely that she would do so, frankly. The Emissary eschewed direct involvement in Bajoran politics, even though he embraced his role. I would be surprised to see his wife do less." And with that sentence, he makes it clear what he would think of her if she played the Vedeks' political game.

Anish seems to find the idea distasteful himself. "I would hope she wouldn't. It would be an unfortunate precedent, I think." He pauses. "Though whether she does or doesn't, we can only hope that the Vedeks will make the best choice for the role. Undue influence or no."

The old Vedek nods to that. "We can hope so, but it rarely comes to pass. Most of this is political." His tone as he says that last word is barely-veiled contempt.

Anish sighs at that. "That's what I have heard. I had hoped it wasn't true, but..." He trails off. His face grows dark a second with thought, with distaste, then it brightens. "But perhaps this time, this time it'll be better." The hope of youth.

Toralin chuckles, and nods. "Perhaps." He turns his attention back to the screen, watching intently.

Anish smiles a little and turns his own attention back to the assembled vedeks.

Vedek Londar, bent with age, rises to her feet, and a general hush falls over the priestly congregation. Twenty years older than even Toralin, she redefines 'aged Vedek.' To say that the attention given to one that is termed in some circles as "The Mother of the Resistance" is complete is an understatement. More, it seems as if the entire assemblage holds its breath; if not from actual reverence for the woman herself, then at least not to stick out by /not/ holding their breath. She is old, now, and seems to serve largely in a ceremonial capacity, but even so, she holds herself with a sort of true majesty that is possessed within itself: her presence simply /is/ powerful, and sees no need to make large shows of power, accordingly. Rheumy eyes cast themselves around the room slowly, and a palsied hand rests on the edge of her desk as she turns to look up at the Mall above her. Seeming satisfied, she nods once, and begins to speak in a quiet voice that has no problem carrying in the excellent acoustics and utter silence of the Assembly.

"The task we undertake today will have deep and lasting implications from today on to the days of our grandchildren's grandchildren. We have been devastated by the loss of the Emissary and the disappearance of Kai Winn; more, in the investigations that have followed her disappearance, we have been disheartened by the implications of her disappearance, more so what she left behind." A small murmur runs through the assembly at this, and Londar Nai closes her clouded eyes, waiting for it to run its course and fade back into silence. Once it does, she continues. "But take heart, for today we find the continuation of our traditions, traditions which run back past the dawn of the Federation which would incorporate us into itself, back past the dawn of the Cardassian Union, back past the recorded history of many a civilization. These temporary shifts are just that: temporary shifts. And at the end, we find ourselves here. On a Bajor that sustains us and survives us. According to tradition, lots have been drawn for speaking positions. We will hear all of our candidates, recess for contemplation and prayer, and then return to vote. Let the Prophets guide your hearts, my fellow Vedeks, and let us decide today by our actions what path Bajor take as she sustains us and in what condition she will survive us." Settling back down with a creak of bones and a slow, careful expulsion of air, she calls the first speaker. "Vedek Meressa Pol."

Toralin actually snorts aloud at the mention of Kai Winn. It's probably the most blatant show of a negative emotion Anish has seen from the old man. He shifts in his chair, muttering, "'Disheartening,' indeed." Nevertheless, he leans forward as Meressa's name is announced, breathing, "Ah, the old guard cometh."

Anish watches the old vedek, and the respect, admiration, and near worship on his face says a lot of her, and him. "Kai Winn... I have heard little good of her, though I couldn't say myself." He looks almost guilty at having said even that. As the first speaker is called he quiets again, to watch, and listen.

A broad-shouldered man in his mid-fifties, and tall for a Bajoran - he crests the six-foot mark - Vedek Meressa has the look of farm stock gone to the clergy. He rises from his third-row seat, smoothing down sun-yellow robes and straightening a heavily embroidered sash about his waist that marks his (very liberal) order. "Fellow Vedeks," his deep voice booms as he steps down onto the speaking floor, "it is an honor to speak with you again today, as I have spoken with many of you in the preceding weeks." He pauses, and gestures toward Londar, whose mouth thins into a line one she realizes - there is a delay due to her weakened eyes - that she's being gestured to. "The Mother of the Resistance has spoken, and we must listen." He bows with seeming reverence in Londar's direction, and her scowl deepens for a second before removing itself entirely, a placid look of either senility or serenity replacing it. "Today we decide by our actions what path Bajor will take, what sort of Bajor we will leave to our children." He turns to look up toward the recorder which transmits to the Vedeks who are unable to be present, and appears to look directly out at them from the screen in Toralin's quarters. "The question we must ask ourselves as we stand at this crossroads is: do we wish to return, or do we wish to move forward?"

Heavy, scarred hands fold together before Meressa contemplatively, and he goes on, "Many wish for the days before the Occupation to return, for Bajor to return to her simpler, more sedate ways, removed from outside interference. This is a beautiful dream, I must admit, but it is a dream nonetheless." A weighty sigh escapes the barrel-chested Vedek, and he turns on his heel, raising his voice slightly. "I submit to my peers this: what would have become of Bajor had not Starfleet been present on that space station who so many would see removed from the Bajoran sky? What would have become of Bajor had the Klingons, and yes, the Romulans, and /yes,/ the United Federation of Planets not protected us during the Dominion War? Can you imagine a Cardassian Occupation with their forces shored up by Jem-Hadar drones? Can you imagine the vengeance they would have wreaked upon our people without the legendary Defiant of our Emissary and all of his allied forces standing between us and them? Bajor's strength is in its people, but time is proving that this strength is not enough in and of itself." A pause. "I know many of you fear the homogeny that might result from joining with the Federation, but I submit to you this: witness the Andorian culture. It is spectacular, with its variety of religions and its clans and its customs. They preserve within their borders their own culture and even their own military force, all the while contributing to and being protected by the Federation. The /president/ of the UFP is presently an Andorian, and Starfleet itself provides for the Andorians a ship of some great repute. The Eagle."

"Think, now, my brothers and sisters, of the proud traditions of Bajor, yes. Think, too, of the prosperity that Bajor can bring to itself and to the Federation by joining. The future of Bajor is not in exclusion, but inclusion. Is not in bearing our scars hirsute. It is in forgiveness, and it is in accepting that the Prophets chose for us an Emissary from the Federation, and from Starfleet, /clearly/ as a lesson against our isolation. It is because of him and his people that Bajor continues to recover from an Occupation less than a decade ended. To close his people out in the wake of their thankless and often violently rejected guardianship of Bajor - a guardianship that undoubtedly saved her from ruin - is no less than blasphemy against the will of the Prophets."

after this quietly but passionately given speech, he bows his head once, and adds, "It is thus that I follow in the tradition of my family and place my name in the running for Kai. If it is Prophets' Will that I help to guide Bajor into a more prosperous future, they will guide your hearts and hands to join with mine. Prophets guide you all." Turning again on his heel, he steps up to his third-row seat and settles back down, folding his hands over his stomach as a discontent murmur runs through the Assembly. Of course, there are also a number of heads nodding thoughtfully, as well, beneath their peaked Vedek caps.

Toralin turns his head to Anish, his face carefully without expression. "Your thoughts, Prylar?" he asks.

Anish pauses a few moments before speaking. "He seems sincere enough. Very straightforward as well. He didn't pull any punches in announcing his proposed agenda. He desires cooperation with Starfleet, and a move to a more modern Bajor. While on one hand, the thought of a more modern Bajor might be scary, I think it's likely inevitable. A more mixed Bajor." He pauses and looks to Toralin. "And in regards to our prior conversations of prophecy and theology, I don't think that would be a bad thing." He goes on, "It seems to be the path that's been outlined for us."

The old man turns back to the screen, and nods, slowly. "Indeed it does. But is Vedek Meressa the man to lead us to it?" He circles the rim of his teacup with the tip of his finger. "Would he change us too fast? And did you not notice his implication: 'my family has led before, and this gives me the right to lead again?'" He frowns slightly. "It smacks of one who would be king, not Kai. Interesting." He leans back in his chair to hear the next speaker.

Anish nods to that. "I think he has the right idea, but as to whether he is the one to lead us along that path...I'm not sure yet. Though he may prove to be the best choice of a group of lesser choices. Only the other speakers can prove that right or wrong." Then he turns to the screen as well.

A sort of forced calm surrounds Vedek Londar's voice as she calls, "Vedek Ungtae Alar." She taps the fingers of a spidery hand on her table, looking directly across the assembly at the next speaker.

. o O Toralin thinks "Arrogant young man, that Meressa. I wonder if there shall be a moderate among them?"

Vedek Ungtae, the apparent front-runner in this election if rumors are to be believed, steps down from his seat in the front row, straightening goldenrod-colored robes and folding his hands behind himself. He paces slowly around the circular address floor, slippered feet covering and uncovering Bestri timber inlaid with the names of the Bajoran provinces. He is a small man, barely five feet tall, and very thin, quite the physical contrast with Meressa, and his robes are spare, undecorated, and of a moderate order. "Thank you, Londar, and thank you, Vedek Meressa." A long pause.

"I have little to say that I have not said already in previous weeks, so I will simply briefly reprise my refrain. I see the wisdom of 'Bajorans for Bajor,' as so many say. We should rebuild our own, celebrate our traditions of life and death and the cycles of seasons. I also know the fear many of us see when we look upon the face of the Federation, and - not to sound like a Ranjen giving lessons to six-year-olds - Fear is the brother to Wisdom." He looks up at the assembled Ranjen along the railing, and then sighs, looking down again as a soft chuckle runs through the assembly. That was mildly amusing, apparently. "We must look at our fear and know its truths without letting it guide us astray. Yes. It would be foolish of us - yes, foolish - to cut off all contact with the outside world. Though the honorable Meressa and I do not agree on many things, we do agree that Bajor would not have held her own during the Dominion War. To state otherwise is a frightening hubris. All the same, I cannot advocate joining ourselves to the Federation. Rather, we should seek our roots, strengthen our traditions and our ties, while remaining a distinct entity. Greater diplomatic contact with the Federation while retaining our distinctness, as Bajor, not as Bajor-of-the-Federation, is the path that my prayers have laid before me as clearest. It is the path that will lead us forward without tearing us apart. It is this path that I advocate, and this path that I ask you to help me follow, if it is the will of the Prophets that I serve Bajor as Kai." That relatively short speech closes with a small bow, and the tiny man returns to his seat after murmuring reverently, "Prophets guide you all."

Toralin chuckles softly at the jest as it's made, and when Ungtae is finished, he once again turns to Anish. "Thoughts?" he once again queries.

Anish pauses. "If Meressa moves to fast, I think he moves too slow. He pays lip service to thoughts of diplomacy and progress while waving the banner of the past. The past is gone and cannot be reclaimed. And while I agree that regardless of what we do, we need to keep ourselves as distinct, we need to keep up our traditions, we cannot ignore the future. Not unless we want to put ourselves in a position to have our planet raped yet again. Fear is the brother to wisdom, and fear says fight or flee. If we retreat into the past, we are cowards and we are no safer than we were before. However, if we ally ourselves with others and rebuild, we are in position to fight, and fight with intelligence."

Toralin nods throughout Anish' observations. "Indeed. I wonder if old Londar chose to begin with the two extremes on purpose? Or shall we see even more extreme viewpoints?" He sips his tea, and sighs as he replaces the cup in his lap. "If only Opaka had not been lost. Now, -there-, my boy, there was a Kai!" Of course, she also came from the same sect as Toralin, and he undoubtedly appreciated her highly mystical bent.

Anish smiles. "My teacher spoke quite highly of Kai Opaka as well. I hope the extremes don't grow. Hopefully, the prophets will guide us to a candidate who sees the reason of compromise and and the rational approach of moderation."

Toralin nods. "One can only hope." He settles back, waiting for the next speech.

Anish takes a sip of his tea. "Yes, hope. That's all we can do at this juncture." Then his attention is turned as well.

Londar taps at the terminal set on her table, blinking once as the corner of her mouth twitches briefly. "Vedek Parva Elys," her creaking voice calls.

Parva is a young woman, relatively speaking. For a Vedek, she's practically a child, being in her early thirties. Like Meressa, she carries herself with vibrancy and poise; her hair is dark, her eyes brilliantly blue, and her robes a modest mustard color, marking her as part of an extremely conservative sect. "Honored fellow Vedeks," she begins, rising from her chair in the fifth row and pacing down to the center floor. Parva could be a beautiful woman, and is, if you only look at the left side of her face. The right bears the scars she gained when Cardassians destroyed her order's monastery eight and a half years ago, when she was only a Ranjen. Heavy, hooked knife-cut scars curl across that side of her face, bisecting an eye that is only a closed socket, left uncovered. Rumor has it that she has refused reconstruction for any number of reasons: the rumors as to her reasoning vary widely and wildly. Her speech is somewhat slurred by this scarring, but she manages to speak well enough that her meaning is not misunderstood.

She pauses, folding her hands behind herself. "We speak of making conciliatory gestures, but does anyone truly believe that we will not end up joining the Federation eventually if we take the steps outlined by my honored prior speakers? Does anyone truly believe that we would be better off, save for what they believe in their own misguided grabs for power?" So much for being honored prior speakers, eh? "The Prophets have given us an incredible gift in this home. We should not squander it by handing it over to the Federation in return for safekeeping, as if we were children in need of a guardian!" She flattens her lips into a line and shakes her head sharply. "Let us not jest, fellow Vedeks. We are already lead astray. We must return to Bajor, invest ourselves in her return to our traditions, or we are already lost. I /am/ of the next generation, lest any try to speak for me again. And I advocate a return to our roots, not this plunge forward advocated by others. After all, one might progress forward into the Fire Caves; simply because it is /progress/ does not make it wise." A sigh, and she returns to her chair in the fifth row without further benediction.

Toralin lets out a low, long sigh through his barely opened mouth. He turns to Anish. "Well." What else is there to say?

Anish looks absolutely apalled. "I...I think that she is mired in her own hurts and sacrifices and doesn't see beyond them to the needs of all the people. She doesn't use fear as a brother to wisdom, but rather lets him rule over her."

The Vedek chuckles at that. "And how well-crafted were Ungtae's words, that you and countless others are now saying them to yourselves in your minds." A pause. "She is, unless I am truly mistaken, of no consequence. Aside from her inflammatory nature, we Bajorans like our Kais of a certain age." He says, "Perhaps some more tea is in order, my boy."

Anish stands at that. "I'll get fresh tea." He moves with quick steps toward the tea pot and comes back and refills first the Vedek's cup, then his own. "She is awfully young. I'm still hoping for more of a moderate choice. Instead they seem to get more and more drastic in their cries."

<CONTEST> Toralin contests his Intellect (Perception) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Toralin contests his Intellect (Perception) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

<CONTEST> Anish contests his Intellect (Perception) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

<CONTEST> Anish contests his Intellect (Perception) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

It's obvious to Toralin that there are perhaps an uncomfortably large number of people nodding in agreement with Parva or looking sympathetically upon her. What this might mean, of course, is another thing entirely.

Toralin leans forward as Anish refills the tea, scrutinizing the screen carefully. "Mmhmm," is his only response to Anish. "Thank you," he mutters, going over the faces of the Vedek Council to gauge their full reaction.

Anish is oblivious, and returns the pot to its former location before settling back in, "You're welcome. It was no problem." And then his gaze goes back to the screen.

GAME: Toralin spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Toralin (claiming advantage) contests his Culture (Bajoran) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Toralin leans back in his chair, setting his teacup in his hand. "Worrisome," he mutters. He falls silent, then, waiting for the next candidate to speak.

"Vedek Tolena Sul," Londar says, once the murmuring from the Assembly has died down. She blinks a few times, settling back into her chair, and adds, "Once Tolena has spoken, there will be a two-hour recess for meditation and prayer."

Taimol has arrived.

A rustle of fabric, back in the that darkened room, as a small red light goes off, indicating some sort of difficulty with the present settings on the program. A small annoyed noise in the back of someone's throat, and thin-fingered hands reach forward to tap at the controls for a moment, pausing the output. Seconds later, Ranjen Taimol's face appears in a small picture-in-picture on the Vedek's side, and a soft ahh of understanding emerges from the watcher. Another rustle of fabric as the onlooker settles back, starting the output once again…

As the transmission begins, Taimol offers a tight smile. "Vedek, Prylar. My apologies on my tardiness - the authorities at this hospital were disinclined to allow me access to their subspace transciever. I had to... convince them." He lets that hang in the air for a moment, then adds, "Have I missed terribly much?"

The Vedek nods, and seems a trifle saddened. "You've missed much, I'm afraid. I would suggest replaying the previous Vedeks' speeches during the two-hour break. I would be interested in hearing your thoughts, Ranjen Taimol." He lifts a cup of tea into view, and takes a sip.

Anish offers a nod of welcome to the ranjen. "Ranjen Taimol. I don't believe we've formally met as of yet. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm Prylar Anish." He smiles. "And the Vedek is, of course, correct. A review of the prior speeches would be helpful. And another opinion would be cherished."

"I... see." Taimol nods gravely. "Again, my most profound apologies. What is next on the agenda?"

In the Assembly, the next speech is beginning, unaware of the consultations going on half a galaxy away...

A soft chuckle from Tolena, as she rises from her first-row chair and moves onto the floor. "Oh my. It seems I find myself as a moderate voice." One of the more conservative speakers in the Assembly, Tolena's comment brings a soft chuckle from an assemblage that seems to rather need a break after that speech from Parva. "I see the brother to wisdom in Vedek Parva's words, and hope that time and the Prophets will bring her to a more peaceful accord with her past; it seems clear that this rules her. And I see enthusiasm and love for Bajor in the words of the other two speakers." She turns, looking over each face carefully before looking down at her toes for a second. Thereafter, she turns and gestures around herself indicatively with one hand. The Vedek is a stern-looking middle-aged woman, with prematurely grey hair, a hawkishly ridged nose, and inestimably kind eyes that don't seem to fit in with the rest of her face. "But what would bring us here, if not love for Bajor?" She sighs and shakes her head. "I cannot be as cynical as some, and assume that my fellow Vedeks would be here if they felt otherwise. I must have faith that our intentions are pure." A long pause, and she sighs. "I find myself in agreement with Ungtae and Meressa: an association with the Federation is healthy and inevitable. However… " And here, she looks for words, searching the faces of the assembly as if they might be located there. "However, I believe that even advocating increasing the diplomatic presence at this time without further consultation with the Legislative Assembly is undesirable. Bajor must present a unified face, whatever face it takes. Positions and platforms are all very well, my friends, but they do us little good if they accomplish nothing but division."

All of this said, she merely ends with, "Prophets guide us all, and however they guide us, may they guide us united."

Toralin opened his mouth to reply to Taimol, and then closes it as he hears the final speech. He considers the speaker for several long moments, and then turns to Anish. "Prylar," and then to Taimol, "Ranjen...your thoughts on Vedek Tolena?"

GAME: Taimol spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Taimol (claiming advantage) contests his Politics (Intelligence) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Taimol (claiming advantage) contests his Politics (Intelligence) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Taimol (claiming advantage) contests his Politics (Intelligence) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Taimol (claiming advantage) contests his Politics (Intelligence) skill vs a difficulty of Impossible and Fails!

Anish watches the last speaker and pauses thoughtfully for some time. "She seems to be the moderate voice here, as she said. And she seems to be sincere, and shrewd without being entirely jaded. She isn't too young, like Vedek Parva. I do not know this woman personally. I cannot however believe of any of the Vedeks that they are advocating a path purely for the purpose of political gain. It may make me naive, but I won't believe otherwise." He goes on, "So far, and without hearing any other information save the speeches, I would give my vote, if I had one, to Vedek Tolena."

Toralin nods to that, and sips his tea, before turning back to Taimol. "Ranjen Taimol...?" he prompts.

From the screen, Vedek Londar can be heard to say, "Two hour recess. We will reconvene then. The Temple is open, and there is food and drink for those who wish it in the side hall." She leans back in her chair, exhaling out a long, slow sigh, as the other Vedeks begin to file out.

Toralin's attention flickers to Londar as she speaks, and then back to Taimol.

A slow puff of breath is released from Taimol as he looks over what he has in front of him. "Vedek Londar. Most of the Assembly sees her as being a... figurehead, so to speak, but do not make the mistake of discounting her. She's extremely conservative and quite active in politics, even considering her advanced age." He pauses to look over more of what's coming in. "Vedek Ungtae is painted as an extremist liberal by his enemies, but he's more moderate than many give him credit for. He is the only liberal Vedek with a chance, although both Meressa and Tolena are both considered to be left-wing by the majority of Assembly members." He frowns slightly, his eyes focusing on Toralin from across the lightyears. "Vedek Toralin, Maressa is seen as many as being a bit power-hungry - some have said that he wants to be king, not Kai. The votes he has garnered come mainly from token rememberance of the former Kai Maressa. Tolena has no serious chance of winning. Many have not forgiven her for losing the last election to Kai Adami, even though she is the only truly moderate voice in the election." There's another moment's pause. "Vedek Parva." He glances between the two figures on his screen. "I cannot stress the danger this woman poses if she becomes Kai. She appeals to many of our people's still-healing wounds, and the infighting that exists is enough to allow her to clinch victory from her opponents, given a measure of luck and good will from the Prophets. However, her views are extremist at best. Even for a conservative, she is quite vocal in her opposition to the United Federation of Planets." He clears his throat. "I believe that Vedek Tolena is the natural choice. She's the only true moderate in the running; she will balance the needs of the people and the burdens of being a member of the galactic community... however, she doesn't carry the votes necessary to win."

Toralin leans back in his chair, and settles into thought. "You've given this matter great study, Taimol" he finally says, his deep voice strong and clear. "You do me a great service by advising me in these matters." He sips his tea. He turns to Anish. "Lais, find out who we know among our friends on the Vedek Council. Find out where they sit, in terms of who they are voting for." A slight smile creases his face as he adds, "Perhaps Ranjen Taimol would be willing to help you in this task...if you were to give him names, and he were to guess at where they may be voting. Tolena is the only choice, and Parva must -not- win." He turns back to the screen. "Taimol, if Vedek Tolena were to gather votes from Ungtae and Meressa, would that be enough to grant her victory?"

A shake of the head and a pensive look lead up to what the young cleric has to say. "Unfortunately, no. The only way that Tolena could stand a serious chance of winning is if one or both of the other liberal candidates threw their support behind her." Edan releases another puff of breath. "The odds of that happening, however, are slim. Maressa is too personally interested in the race to give support to another, and Ungtae thinks that Tolena is weak-willed at best. The real race is between Ungtae and Parva, to be completely honest."

Anish listens intently to Taimol and nods when he's finished, and the Vedek has spoken. "It is nice to have my initial instincts proven correct." He looks to Toralin then. "Yes, sir, I will start on it immediately." He begins to collect a list of names, tapping something.

GAME: Toralin spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Toralin (claiming advantage) contests his Culture (Bajoran) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Toralin considers his teacup for several long moments, and then says, "Lais." His tone has an unexpected firmness. "Please transfer your commlink with Ranjen Taimol to your PADD. I'll be needing an unobstructed view while I speak with Vedek Parva." Then he sips his tea.

(Back in that darkened room, there's a momentary bit of annoyance, and the figure watching these recordings quickly moves its hands on its terminal, bringing the link with the Ranjen back up on its terminal screen, so as not to lose it in its transfer to Anish's PADD.)

Anish communicates with Taimol via the PADD, and sends him the names of the allies on the council. "Vedek Telna, Vedek Sorad, Vedek Oram, Vedek Mera, Vedek Alenis." He goes on. "That's the names of the Vedek's closest allies on the council."

Toralin waits until Anish is out of range, and then initiates the communications terminal, and attempts to contact Vedek Parva.

It takes a few moments, as a Prylar initially answers the summons. (Prylar Sirhat, to be exact. Toralin will know there are rumors that he's Parva's lover, but these rumors seem to be just that: scuttlebutt.) He politely asks Toralin to hold, and a voice can be heard from off-screen. "... an entire Remnant Cardassian Order? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? As if they would sell themselves to the Ferengi, or the Ferengi have any interest in holding a private military force!" Parva's voice, certainly. She appears before the terminal a moment later, smiling crookedly but brilliantly. There's that bittersweet charm for which Elys is well-known. "Vedek Toralin! I thought certainly I would be hearding from you. A shame you have been so long away from Bajor; we've missed you."

The old man summons up all his own grandfatherly charm to smile in return. "Vedek Parva," he says, inclining his head in greeting. "And I miss you all...but my work here fills the void admirably." He lets his smile fail a trifle, and says, "I must speak with you privately on a matter of some importance."

<CONTEST> Taimol (claiming advantage) contests his Politics (Intelligence) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Taimol (claiming advantage) contests his Politics (Intelligence) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Taimol (claiming advantage) contests his Politics (Intelligence) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Taimol (claiming advantage) contests his Politics (Intelligence) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Taimol (claiming advantage) contests his Politics (Intelligence) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

A cursory glance is given to the names that fill the screen before Taimol. "Telna will vote for Tolena, Sorad and Oram for Ungtae. Mera's sympathies - Prophets watch over her - will lie with Parva, given her labor camp injuries and two half-Cardassian children. Alenis... her vote will fall with either Ungtae or Meressa, it's hard to be certain at this point."

From the look on her face, Parva can't possibly believe there's any work that can fill the void that not being on Bajor would leave, but she nods slowly. "It must be... great work indeed, Toralin." She raises her eyebrow, then, the scarred side of her face raising its eyebrow just so, and she turns her head to someone off-camera, nodding once, sharply. A few seconds later, she turns back, intrigued, but looking confident despite. "Very well."

. o O Parva thinks "I knew I'd get his support."

Anish nods to Taimol with a smile. "One moment. Let me get that information to the Vedek." He makes notes on the choices on a second PADD, then hands that PADD to Toralin, so that he might look at it without tipping his hand to Parva.

Toralin leans back in his chair, comfortably. "We have a lot in common, Parva," he begins, "despite our difference in age." He lets that drop for a heartbeat or two, for she knows of his torture as well he knows of hers. Let her remember to whom she speaks. "And much of what you said today rings true within me. I feel it in my pagh." He smiles, benevolently. "We must honor our traditional ways. We must be vigilant of our identity as Bajorans." He leans forward, still speaking as he reaches his hand low, below Parva's vision, to take hold of the PADD that he was passed. He looks down, scanning it as he lifts his tea to his lips. He settles back after swallowing his tea, smiling warmly to the other Vedek, waiting to hear her reaction.

A crooked smile breaks across Parva's face, then, the right side of it sent sloping down by the cuts across her face's nerves. "Yes. Of course." She pauses, then, and smiles a bit absently, flattered. "I have always respected your wisdom, Toralin. It is good that my words ring true with you. I am honored to hear this."

. o O Parva grows more confident with every passing second.

Toralin nods slowly, and his smile fails a bit, his expression growing grim. "Have you?" he asks, managing to sound pleased, curious, and very grim, all in the same tone. He's engaged in public speaking for over half a century, and it shows. "I am equally honored by your faith in me, Parva." He pauses, and shifts in his chair, as if the next words discomfit him. You know that I am not given to politics. My sect, the sect of blessed Kai Opaka" and what Bajoran doesn't worship the memory of Opaka, the only woman who united all the factions "is a mystical one. We have, traditionally, voted for our Kai only after deep prayer and consultation with the Prophets." His smile is completely gone, now. "I share with you now this which I have shared with no other: I had a vision, given to me by the Orb of Prophecy and Change."

. o O Parva thinks "Oh my."

Parva leans forward slowly in her chair, face coming closer to the viewscreen. "I am honored by your confidence, Toralin." A long pause. "Please... go on."

Anish turns to listen to what Toralin has to say now that he says he's had a vision from the Orb. He's intrigued and it shows plainly on his face.

The old Vedek's expression grows distant. "A simple truth was revealed to me, a truth that I am confirming these long months away from Bajor. Our people must go both back...and forth. We cannot be linear, Parva." He looks back to her, and smiles, his expression returning to the present. "I know how you suffered," he says, simply. And, of course, he's not offering some limp-wristed platitude. He knows. "And I agree with much of what you say. You have the support of many, who see your wisdom as clearly as I do." He nods. "We must embrace our traditions. We must see Bajor grow strong again. We must be an individual people."

. o O Parva thinks "... where is he going with this?"

There's a pause in which Parva is clearly wondering where Toralin is /going/ with all of this, and she looks off to something on the side of her terminal when he comments upon her suffering, showing the viewscreen only the damaged side of her face before she turns back to look back at him. Solemnly and calmly she replies, "I knew that I could count on your support, Toralin."

Toralin nods. "You can, Parva. You will always have the support I can best give you..." and he smiles "...the support that will heal you as I have been healed, from the terrible scars we wear not on our bodies, but on our souls." He takes a deep breath. "But I cannot support your bid for Kai." He lets that drop like a stone. "Our people cannot hide from the future, Parva. The past is not safe; if it were, we would never have fallen to Cardassia in the first place." He shakes his head. "No. We are a member of a galactic community, and if we try to pretend that it isn't there, if we shut our door in the face of all who are not Bajoran, then we shut the door on the future. Kai Opaka invited the Federation to aid us, and she did so because she knew," and now his voice takes on conviction "she -knew-, as I know, as you must surely see...it is time. It is time for Bajor to step into the future, wreathed in the noble raiments of our past, as a unified, healed entity." He leans even further forward. "Can you not see, Parva? You are become a symbol of what ails Bajor, a Bajor that cannot forget her scars, a Bajor that stubbornly lashes out at anyone who tries to aid her. You hearken our people back to a simpler time with words like 'traditional values' and concepts like 'cultural assimilation' and you feed the fires of their fears." He shakes his head. "Do not become this mockery of our hope and faith, Parva. Turn away from this path. It consumed Winn Adami. Will it consume you as well?"

<CONTEST> Toralin contests his Persuasion (Oratory) skill vs Parva's Presence (Willpower) skill (given advantage) and Fails!

Whatever goodwill Parva might have felt toward Toralin just /evaporates/ during his speech, and the younger woman's jaw sets /hard./ "Yes. I see. Prophets guide you, Toralin. If they can reach you, out on that Wraith-ridden tin can." The screen blips to blackness.

A rustling sound starts in the back of the room that Taimol occupies. Soon, there's a pounding in the background. "Open this door! OPEN THE DOOR?!" More voices. "How'd he seal the door?!" "I don't know, but he'd BETTER OPEN UP RIGHT NOW." Quirking an eyebrow, the young ranjen looks back to Anish across the lightyears. "It appears that the staff of the hospital have discovered my... modifications to the doorway. Do you require anything more before I go?"

Anish looks to Toralin. "He's been caught making modifications to the doorway. Do we need anything further from Ranjen Taimol?"

Toralin sighs, rather heavily, and shakes his head. "She's lost," he says, and seems more saddened than anything. He looks over to Anish. "No. Let Ranjen Taimol go, and with my thanks." He considers his teacup.

Anish nods to Toralin. "Go, Ranjen Taimol. And please...be careful."

"Always." The young man grins, both eyebrows perking - he's actually enjoying this bit of rebellion. "May the Prophets guide you both." And then his feed blips to darkness as well.

Toralin turns to Anish. "I think we shall speak with Vedek Tolena next." He fiddles with the comm-terminal, attempting to get ahold of the Vedek.

Anish watches the Vedek work the comm-terminal and nods. "Is there anything you require of me? Messages to others, more tea?"

Toralin chuckles as he works the terminal. "More tea, please. Contacting others will have to wait until after this call, I believe."

It takes some time to get contact with Vedek Tolena, as she is in prayer when the message is originally sent through. The steely-haired Vedek appears before the comm terminal some near-ten minutes later, calm and peaceful, her dark eyes wide and meditative. She smiles kindly. "My apologies for keeping you waiting, Toralin. It is good to see your face again. We have missed you."

Toralin smiles to the Vedek. "And I have missed you all. But I take some comfort in doing good work." He pauses. "Tolena, I will confess that this call is somewhat political in nature, and I have enough respect for you to avoid dissembling." He pauses for a moment, and says, simply, "I do not believe you have enough support to become Kai. And I am certain that Vedek Parva must not be Kai."

Anish nods to the Vedek's request and goes to get the tea again, then fills the older man's cup before resuming his seat, and moving out of Toralin's way, so he can continue his correspondence.

Tolena blinks a few times, rather clearly taken aback by something in what Toralin has said. "Oh my," she murmurs softly, looking down off the screen. It is a gesture Jerrod will remember well from seeing her at the Assembly: she looks at her hands while thinking or worried. "Oh my." A deep breath in and out. "I appreciate your straightforwardness, Toralin," she says, looking up from her hands into the terminal again. "And I will not say that I had not... suspected. This." A pause, and she laughs softly. "Feared this, perhaps."

Toralin takes the teacup with a grateful nod to Anish. "Vedek Tolena, this is Prylar Anish, my aide." He nods from one to the other, and then gets back to business. "Tolena, if it were up to me, you would be Kai. I tried to reason with Parva, in the hopes that I could accomplish a dual goal: to start her healing, and to have her throw her support behind you." A self-effacing chuckle. "Needless to say...it didn't go well." He sips his tea. "I have discussed this with my aides extensively, and I have called you to suggest a course of action, one that will best serve Bajor, in my estimation. I would ask that you withdraw from the running, and put your support behind Vedek Ungtae. Of all the other three, he seems most moderate, and most likely to proceed with caution and wisdom."

<CONTEST> Toralin (claiming advantage) contests his Persuasion (Oratory) skill vs Tolena's Presence (Willpower) skill (given disadvantage) and Succeeds!

Anish gives a brief nod to the Vedek via sub-space. He doesn't speak however, and clearly defers to Toralin entirely in the exchange.

"Prophets guide you, Anish," Tolena murmurs quietly, clearly distracted in the wake of Toralin's words. She sit for a long time, and when she looks back up at him, her smile is weak, tired. She looks a great deal older than the middle age in which she clearly must be. "I felt... " Pausing, the woman cups her hand upward, fingers splayed and cupped as if she held a large, invisible egg or a goblet. "I felt the movement of the pagh around me, Toralin. And I thought... much the same, myself. I had gone to pray on it. But. Your words. Seal it." A long pause. "No, I do not imagine such a talk as that with Parva would have gone well at all." She sighs sadly, and shakes her head, looking down at her hands again. "Poor girl." Her head comes up, a resolved sort of expression on her face. "You... you have the right of it, Toralin Jerrod. I have missed your wisdom greatly." Does her smile turn briefly almost ... sweet? Surely an illusion of the screen and distance. "Thank you for your counsel."

Toralin bows his head. "It is an honor to be of service to you, Tolena. You would have been a great Kai, and may yet be. Only the Prophets know, and we must trust in their wisdom." He looks up, and there's that rare mischievous glint in his eye. "Of course, in the meanwhile, I'm sure Vedek Ungtae would profit from your wisdom should he become Kai."

Anish smiles at Toralin, then gives a nod to Tolena once more. "And you as well, Vedek Tolena." He doesn't say anything further, but he looks back to Toralin, a grin touching his lips for one reason or another. Whatever it is, he doesn't speak out loud just now.

That mischeivous glint has Tolena looking down at her hands, but for an entirely different reason now. Perhaps there's a touch of color on her cheeks where there was none before, a bit of a shy hint to that curling of her mouth's corners? "You flatter me, Toralin. But I thank you for that; my ego is in sore need of soothing. This has been a... a long battle." Clearing her throat and willing herself to look back up at the screen, she replies, "We must trust in their wisdom, yes. And the wisdom of those who counsel us in their ways."

Toralin nods slowly, smiling softly. "Thank you, Tolena. All of Bajor should thank you." He nods to her, and then says, "I should leave you to your prayers."

"Oh. I don't know about all of Bajor, but I will accept your thanks, Toralin Jerrod." Then? A swift little nod from Tolena -- perhaps a bit /too/ fast -- and she adds, "Yes. I must. Well, I must speak with Ungtae. And pray. Thank you." The message blips into blackness, then, and the feed reverts to the general Assembly floor, where various and sundry groups of Vedeks are sitting, reviewing documents, eating... generally recessing.

Toralin turns to Anish, and runs a quivering hand through his air. "I despise politics," he announces. He sips his tea. "Now. Shall we contact the Vedeks who do not yet support Ungtae, or leave our work at this, my friend?" he asks the Prylar.

Anish pauses. "Do you think that Vedek Ungtae will win if we don't contact them? Are we willing to take the chance? I'm not certain. I'm afraid I'm a bit in over my head in such situations. I feel a bit like a naive child who has just learned that Mommy and Daddy aren't perfect."

A few moments after Anish speaks, and before Toralin can speak again, a low ripple moves through the Assembly hall. Londar is even awakened from where she snores in her chair by the subtle noise. Apparently the news of Tolena's withdrawal from the running has spread quickly, and the politicking is starting anew...

Toralin's attention is distracted to the screen. He watches as the scrabbling for power begins, and turns back to Anish. "Let's talk to Vedek Alenis, first. We'll save Vedek Mera for last -- I imagine she'll be the hardest to convince."

Anish nods to Toralin. "You of course know them best." He pauses then and smiles. "If you use the same charm on them you did on Vedek Tolena, they're sure to listen." He chuckles. "It looks like someone has a bit of a crush on you."

The old Vedek promptly chokes on his tea. "My -dear- boy! I'm sure I have no idea what you mean." Toralin is, of course, well-known as a complete ascetic, including in matters of sexuality. One of the rare Bajoran celibate monks. "She's a lovely woman, really, and I'm sure she has suitors a-plenty. But a crush? On me? I'm old enough to be her father!" He shakes his head. "Let's call up Vedek Alenis, Lais, before your imagination runs any further away with you..."

Toralin and Anish roll up their figurative sleeves and get to work; the only one they are unable to sway, given time and conversation, is Vedek Mera. Not that this is surprising: she refuses to even speak to them, citing a need for meditation that is clearly still more than a bit of a snub. Apparently Parva got to her first. At the end of the recess, the priests gather in their robed masses; votes are cast via their terminals or encrypted transmissions, in the case of Vedeks, like Toralin, who could not be present. At the end, the response shows their work: Vedek Ungtae will become Kai Ungtae. Vedek Tolena sits quietly in her chair, hands folded in her lap; Meressa congratulates Ungtae with a smile that does not reach his eyes, and Parva? Parva rises from her chair, a disgusted look on her broken face, and stares at the recorder for a moment, almost accusatorially, before storming out of the Assembly. A rather embarrassed Ungtae clears his throat and shuffles out onto the address floor, waiting until the mild uproar dies down before making a few closing remarks:

"Honored fellow Vedeks. I am… truly humbled by this appointment, and I thank you all for your confident support. I assure you that I will not fail you. I will not fail Bajor." It's got to be the shortest acceptance speech for the position of Kai in the history of all Bajor.

Toralin sits, exhausted, in his chair. His old frame can't take this kind of stress and activity. "Brisk, isn't he? I rather imagine he's still feeling awfully surprised by the turn of events." He looks over to Anish, and smiles. "We've done good work today, my boy."

Anish smiles back to Toralin. "Yes, I imagine he is rather surprised. Pleased, but surprised. And yes, it was good work. I must wonder if Kai Ungtae realizes how much you worked on his behalf? Regardless, it came out well. Much better than I feared at first."

Toralin simply shakes his head. "Poor Parva," he says, with real regret, and then turns his attention back to the screen.

Anish nods. "She did not take it well at all. But it would be difficult for anyone. It simply shows how generous that Vedek Tolena truly is." Then his attention turns as well.

With this, Londar rises slowly, making a small, ritualized gesture with her hands. "Prophets guide you," she intones, and the assembly response, "Their lips to your ear." They rise almost as one a moment later, and the process of egress begins.

At the Assembly's close, the screen blinks off, and a Romulan rises from her chair. "Interesting," murmurs Voidrai, a wicked smile on her face. "I had no idea they were so… fracticious. Very interesting, indeed."

Another screen blinks off in another darkened room, and Popura turns his chair, pulling a datarod from its slot and passing it off to his aide. "Deliver this to the Dominion Ambassador; it is a portion of the… intelligence he asked for on the religious personnel in the Dulcais sector." The aide bows its head and steps out of view.

Another screen in another darkened room, and a hand obscured by Vedek's robes reaches to press the control on the arm of its chair, blinking the screen into nothingness. A second tap at the controls extinguishes the light completely, with the figure in its chair still facing the terminal.