ST: Shaping a Cardassian - "Strength Without Sacrifice is Useless"

[Nerys Ghemor]

Gul Re'jal wrote:

---

I'm sure he cries too but sometimes it's not enough for him. Sometimes he feels like he needs to punish himself for something he did (even if he had no influence on a tragic outcome).

Awww...what he deserves is hugs.

What he does scares me not only because it hurts him, but because in real life, the older a person is, the more likely they are to do serious damage to themselves through self-harm.

If only he could know he had a free hug available every time he felt that way...

At least you didn't read through me and didn't know what was to come, for once!

Probably because it wasn't a doomsday scenario. My "talent," just like in real life, only seems to work on painful stuff. :-/

I know we have 18 years old Tekeny Ghemor serving in the Guard, but I assume that from 18 a young person can already make some decisions, but they have to be approved by their parents. From 20+ they are considered adults.

I see...that's different from my universe. The age of majority is lower in my version of the canon universe, than it is in the SigCat universe.

That's exactly what I wanted to achieve--not another Betazoid that would read everyone just because it's natural for her. She respects others' privacy. I'm glad she makes a good impression

I thought it was very nice. I imagine there are still things that reach Captain Ram without her intentionally setting out to find those things out, but I imagine she'd handle it a lot better than Lwaxana. (Or even Deanna, who sometimes copied her mother's judging looks, and could be quite intimidating.)

[Gul Re'jal]

What he does scares me not only because it hurts him, but because in real life, the older a person is, the more likely they are to do serious damage to themselves through self-harm.

I hope with time he'll learn there are other ways to deal with guilt and emotional pain.

I imagine there are still things that reach Captain Ram without her intentionally setting out to find those things out, but I imagine she'd handle it a lot better than Lwaxana.

I guess it's unavoidable for a Betazoid to sometimes "hear" something and it would be impossible to completely "turn off" his or her natural ability, but they could handle it with more consideration than Lwaxana who "knew what's on your mind and would let you know what's on hers," as Riker once said.

[TerokNor]

Sooo I managed to finally catch up with this story. Brenok really has matured a lot...if one can call it that. He is a fine commander. His scene with Jarol, when he ordered her, took my breath away.
The story is very gripping and especially when Laran was in danger it was truly to feel what Brenok went through. Good Jarol didn´t know it. Though when she will know afterwards she probably will not react well to it anyway.

To what time did Borad worked for Dukat?

Looking forward to more chapters!

TerokNor

[Gul Re'jal]

Ohhhh, my lost reader is found!

I'm glad you think Brenok matured. I hope that, in spite of his young age for this position, he is a good commander.

To what time did Borad worked for Dukat?

I think he worked in the Second Order longer than Gul Dukat, probably through the Dominion War and after. He's more a "military clerk" than a soldier with weapons.

Thanks for still reading

[Nerys Ghemor]

See? I TOLD you she was out there!

[Gul Re'jal]

Chapter 9

Rayak Nor
Day 7


Zamarran waited for a connection to be established. “My lady,” he said when his wife’s face appeared on the screen.

“You look like hell,” she said.

“Thank you. You always knew how to make me feel better.” There was no bitterness in his voice; he knew she didn’t mean it in an offensive way.

“So, what made you feel bad?” she asked.

Did she read his mind? “Nothing,” he lied. He shouldn’t lie to her if she read his mind, should he?

“You always were a bad liar.”

“You keep telling me that.”

“And you keep trying to deceive me.” She smiled.

“How silly of me.”

“Tell me.”

“I have met Inquisitor Dorak,” he started and her eyes opened wider in an expression of awe. “Or, shall I rather say, I have tried to meet him.”

“And what’s happened?”

“And he yelled at me and treated me like trash.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know why.” Zamarran shrugged. “He was here, on the station, my team was repairing his ship and I decided to pay him a visit. He opened the door, threw insults at me and closed the door. The end of story.”

His wife didn’t say anything at first. He observed her, her thoughtful face, thinking how time didn’t manage to diminish her beauty even a little bit, even tough it left its marks on her face. She tapped the tip of her ridged nose with her long, graceful finger for a while and then she said, “Do you remember when we harboured those two young dissidents?” He nodded. How could he forget! “After our dinner, when you were in your study with them, we had a visitor. A doorbell. I went to open and saw a man, whom I didn’t know, wearing armour. I was certain he came to arrest us all, that the authorities had learnt somehow that those two people were in our apartment and this man was to take you and me, and possibly our children, to our deaths. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t talk, I just stood there and waited for him to tell me that I would have to go with him. But all he did was giving me a padd and telling me that it was for your review. Then he left.”

“You never told me about it.” He remembered that padd; it had been one of projects that awaited his approval and since his department had been a bit delayed, he had asked to deliver that part of the project to him as soon as it had been ready.

“I didn’t think it was important. And I didn’t want you to worry too.”

He didn’t have to ask why she told him that story now; he knew. She suggested that maybe Dorak misinterpreted Zamarran’s presence at his door and reacted in the only way he knew: attack. Maybe if the engineer wore a civilian tunic, it would have been different, but he didn’t think about it.

“I’m not good with people, am I?”

“No, you’re not. You’re reserved, stiff and scary. But I still can see through this façade.”

Zamarran recalled the day when they had been introduced to each other by their parents. She had looked intimidated by him and that day he had promised himself that he would do all in his power to make her love him before marrying her. He had courted her for months and had fallen in love with her himself.

He had not been happy that his parents had decided to be traditional and choose a wife for him, but with time he became grateful—otherwise he would have never met her and he couldn’t imagine not spending his life with her and not growing old by her side.

“In other words, I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered.

“You should have done that in civilian clothes.”

“From what I heard, he wasn’t much friendlier to civilians.”

“They work on a military installation, he expects them to think like the military.”

“Not all military is evil...used to be evil,” he corrected himself.

“However, he might not know that.” Did that woman have to be always right?

“How are things at home?” he asked, changing subject.

She brightened and started to tell him about their three year old grandson.




Demok left the shuttle and stood on the Rayak Nor’s deck. The hangar inner door opened and a few Cardassians entered. One immediately charged toward the away team.

“Brace for impact,” the sub-archon muttered to himself, seeing his mother running to him. He did not move but stretched his arms toward her. He expected her to bump into him and the second she was just about to reach him he thought that the hit of her armour diamond front against his chanth would hurt like hell. He underestimated her: she knew that too, so she abruptly stopped just in front of him and then gently wrapped her arms around him and pressed him to the left side of her armour, where her heart was. “Hi, Mom,” he said quietly.

“Hi, Droplet,” she whispered into his hear. “If Uncle tries to send you away from me again, kill him.”

Another wave of guilt washed through him. She must have felt the shift in his posture, as she pulled him away a bit and looked into his eyes. “Uncle Arenn told me what happened.”

Demok only pressed his lips thin. He noticed that the remaining members of his...team...thinner team... headed for the door and he and his mother were left alone in the big hangar.

“I didn’t have to take him with me,” he said quietly.

“Droplet, you couldn’t have known. Once a wise man told me that you shouldn’t blame yourself for crimes committed by others. It would be like letting them commit that crime on you over and over again.”

“Easy to say.”

“Yes, easy to say and not so easy to apply to your bleeding heart. I know and he knew that too.”

“I want to lead the mourning ceremony,” he said. “I want one here, on the station.” He knew for certain that there would be one on Cardassia, where Boreep’s family lived and where an empty urn—as his body couldn’t have been retrieved from the planet, therefore no ashes to fill the last journey vessel—would be placed in a military medics’ mausoleum, but he wanted—he needed—one to take part in, too. He needed to express his appreciation of Boreep’s life and the value of his existence. If not Boreep and his care, Demok would have stayed on that planet, watch everyone die and finally die himself, killed by the virus once he’d reach his adulthood, or after a long life of loneliness...

“I’ll talk to Uncle Arenn. He planned to lead the ceremony himself but I think he’ll agree for you to have that privilege.”

She pulled him toward the hangar door, not letting his hand out of hers. He was grateful for that—he needed her touch and her support.




Captain Ronus waited for the door to open. It happened a short moment after he had chimed. T’Sarik looked at him and then let him in.

“I’m afraid I don’t bring good news, Commander,” he said without preamble.

“I still don’t regret it,” she replied.

“T’Sarik, I understand why you did it. But you made a few mistakes. First of all, you didn’t notify me of your findings. You went behind my back. It’s not personal, T’Sarik, not my ego speaking. However, I am in fairly good relations with Jarol and I could have talked to her. Or try to talk to Brenok. He is a reasonable man. Your action, unfortunately, put to risk our very fragile friendship with the Cardassians. For all we know, Jarol could have expelled all of us from this station and you know how important is our presence here.” Since the conclusion she had drawn was incorrect, it wouldn’t have been necessary to stop the Cardassians from committing a genocide, but merely learning what their true plans had been. A different curse of action, namely Ronus’s attempt to gather information first, could have helped to avoid complicating the relations and planting a seed of distrust.

“I do. I didn’t want you to be involved. I knew the Cardassians would be furious that we mingle into their affairs and I wanted to take that fury on myself.” She went to a table and picked up a padd. “I have already prepared my resignation. I take full responsibility on myself.”

“That is very decent of you but you are a little too late. I came with orders from Starfleet Command. You are being recalled. You are not in real trouble, you will be merely reassigned, but the Cardassians must think that we react harshly to your spying on them.”

“A show, then.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“To be honest, I am glad. I never wanted this assignment and never felt comfortable here.” He smiled slightly. It was all too obvious. “I hope you won’t be in trouble with her, with Jarol,” T’Sarik added.

“I’ll manage. She’s got big teeth and growls loudly but she doesn’t bite.”

“I’m not so sure of that.”

“Cardassians like posturing, she is no exception. It’s not malice, they just are like that.”

“Not all of them.”

“No, not all.” He was glad that she didn’t put them all into one box marked ‘assholes.’ “All engineers I met here were nice, without exceptions.”

He wasn’t sure if she joked or was serious. “I’ll leave you to your packing, then. USS Petrona will take you to Starbase 29.”

He left her quarters, wondering if Starfleet Command would decide to replace her or leave only him and Av’Roo on the station.

[Gul Re'jal]

Lieutenant Commander Av’Roo, a Skorr female, assisted Medic Albek in his laboratory. She had volunteered to help with the cure for the virus that had attacked Mazita. Virology wasn’t her speciality, but she assumed that anyone with scientific knowledge could be helpful.

She was studying data on the virus when Sub-Archon Demok entered the laboratory. She noticed he wore an unusual outfit. It was clearly civilian but the charcoal-silver tunic resembled Cardassian military uniform. It had similar cut and shapes, however it reached to the middle of the Cardassian’s thighs. His black trousers were tightly fitted on his legs and he wore silver boots, from which fluttered thin black ribbons.

Demok stopped in front of Taret and bowed. “Medic Taret, your esteemed presence would honour the mourning ceremony held for Medic Boreep, his life and sacrifice adding to the greatness of the Cardassian Union.”

Taret rose from his chair and faced Demok. “The honour would be mine.”

The sub-archon made a gesture that looked like drawing an oval in the air and bowed again. Taret returned to bow. Demok went to Albek. “Medic Albek, your esteemed presence would honour the mourning ceremony held for Medic Boreep, his life and sacrifice adding to the greatness of the Cardassian Union.”

Just then Av’Roo realised it was some kind of ritual. Undoubtedly, so were the clothes Demok was wearing.

Albek replied in the same manner as Taret did. Demok headed for the door, but stopped and glanced at the Skorr. He hesitated for a moment and she wished he decided to invite her too. She had met Boreep only once and didn’t know him well, but she considered his death a tragic event. Demok glanced at her hands, in which she held a vile and a scanner, at her face and then headed for her.

“Commander Av’Roo, the Skorr, your esteemed presence would honour the mourning ceremony held for Medic Boreep, his life and sacrifice adding to the greatness of the Cardassian Union.”

She stood up, just like the other two medics had done earlier, and said, “The honour would be mine.” She bowed and just then she realised that she should have waited for Demok to make the oval sign and bow first, but he didn’t seem to mind. He made the gesture, bowed, she bowed again and he left.

“You have just accepted an invitation to a mourning ceremony,” Albek told her.

“I thought so. It is unusual to invite aliens?” she asked.

“Very unusual,” Taret said.

“Why did he do that?”

Taret stopped working and looked at her. “Because you work to help us find a cure, something that Boreep wanted to do and he sacrificed his life for. You work to add meaning to his life.”

“That outfit he wears?”

“It’s a traditional ceremony apparel. There are different kinds but most of them are similar one to another. Colours are different.”

“It looks very much like your uniforms,” she said.

“Actually, it’s the other way around,” Albek joined the conversation. “It’s our armours that follow the style of the traditional attire. They weren’t always like today. A few hundred years ago they looked a bit differently; there used to be three layers of protective sheets here.” He pointed to his hips and black, shiny covers on them. “And it sported a short kilt made of strips of leather.”

Av’Roo’s head bobbed with interest. “Is there any database I could see a drawing or an image.”

“Sure. Any historical database should offer you a wide range of pictures to study. You should check data from five hundred years ago.”

“That I will do,” she said and returned to work. A moment later she looked at Albek again. “After work, could I ask you more about this custom? I wouldn’t like to do anything offensive.”

“Of course.” Although he nodded his head, she knew it was difficult for him. No death was easy to accept.

“If you’d rather not talk about it—”

“That’s all right, Commander,” he said. “I will answer your questions. I will also tell you more about Boreep, if you don’t mind.”

“That would be nice,” she agreed.



Rayak Nor
Day 8



Av’Roo entered a small, dark room and stood by the door, as she had been instructed by Medic Albek. He stood next to her. It took her eyes a while to adjust to the low light level, but when she could see she started to study her surroundings.

The room was lit only by candles that also emitted a musky, pleasant scent. There were a few people in the room already; they sat on chairs that were arranged in three rows—the rows created three sides of a triangle. Albek had told her that an oval and a triangle were very important shapes for the Cardassian people: an oval represented life, it’s endless sacrifice that changed it over and over again, an oval’s sharper bends showing sharp turns and changes in life when a sacrifice is being made; a triangle represented three most important values in a Cardassian’s life—the family, the sacrifice and the Union.

Gul Brenok approached them and bowed slightly. “You honour us with your presence,” he said quietly.

“The honour is ours,” Albek replied.

Brenok led them to two chairs and they sat. Av’Roo wondered if her presence would be unwelcome but no one seemed to pay any attention to her.

Albek had told her that, normally, Cardassians were cremated and a small urn with their ashes was placed in a mausoleum. Such a mausoleum, a different for each type of service to the Union—in Boreep’s case it was one for military medical staff—was usually underground in a form of catacombs and on top of it there was a monument, where families could go and pay their respects. Urns were small and not all of ashes was placed there, the rest was usually scattered over a desert or a sea—whichever was closer geographically or to a family’s history, but vessels were always a handwork and often made by family members. Each was different and its decoration was an expression of love for the deceased one. Only important people and big figures were being buried and had their own, separate graves to which their families and others could make pilgrimages.

Av’Roo knew that the urn would be empty. She also knew that the one that was on Cardassia was also empty. They couldn’t risk retrieving Boreep’s body infected by the virus. She wondered if the actual ashes were important for the Cardassians, or the ceremony was sufficient. She had asked Albek why they had another ceremony on the station, if there was one on Cardassia, and he had told her that the people on the station wanted to pay their respect to Boreep. They needed it.

All chairs slowly filled and the triangle was closed. Then Demok entered. He seemed to wear the same outfit as when he had been inviting everyone for the ceremony, however on top of it he additionally wore a long, grey cloak with a hood that was now covering his head and hiding his face in a shadow. He went to the front, which was in one of apexes of the triangle and just then Av’Roo saw he cradled something in his hands. It was so small that it was almost completely hidden in his palms.

He raised his hands and held a kind of small vase on the level of his chest, exactly where the inverted droplet on a Cardassian’s torso was, and the Skorr could take a better look at the object. It was dark red, with patterns apparently hollowed out with a thin chisel and then coloured yellow; or maybe it was coloured red first and then the natural colour of the wood reappeared in the patterns made by the chisel. It was beautiful. Av’Roo was sure it wasn’t replicated, someone had made it according to the tradition.

Demok started to speak. “Ilor Boreep, you have been taken from us too early.” Av’Roo knew that there was no traditional speech, that whoever led the mourning ceremony, he or she spoke from the heart. Albek had said that no Cardassian was a generic automaton and no pre-written, generic speech should describe their lives. Everyone deserved to be appreciated for what they were. Av’Roo liked that individual approach. Demok continued. “You could have given us so much more, we could have given you so much more. Your readiness to help, to bring relief, to take care of the weakest and to heal are the best attest to your great heart. You thought of others even when your life was in danger, even when you knew you couldn’t help yourself.” His voice shook and he stopped for a moment to compose himself. “We will remember you. I will never forget you. And I will never stop holding your hand.”

Av’Roo knew from Albek that Demok had been present when Boreep had been dying. She also knew that Boreep made sure the sub-archon’s DNA had been sent to test his immunity to the virus. It was obvious even to her that the young Cardassian was still shaken by the events of the last few days. She hoped he would find peace soon and that this ceremony would help him in that search.

Demok seemed to be finished. A moment of silence and Gul Brenok went to him, took the urn from his hands and then assumed the same posture. He started to speak—pronouncing the medic’s given name ‘Iloh.’ He said how he valued Boreep’s advices and dedication and then he sang a song. Av’Roo’s universal translator attempted to translate the lyrics to Federation Standard, but she decided to turn it off and not only because the result was gibberish. She wanted to listen to Brenok’s wonderful voice without technology in the way.

After Brenok, another officer spoke. Av’Roo didn’t know him but from his words she guessed he was Boreep’s close friend.

Then Demok returned to the ‘front’ for the triangle and took a candle that stood there on a tall chandelier. He blew at the flame but not strong enough to extinguish it. He stood in front of a Cardassian that sat nearest him and the Cardassian blew too, also not putting the small flame away. Demok walked in the inner side of the triangle and the ritual repeated over and over again. Av’Roo feared she should blow too strongly.

Albek had told her that it represented different events on one’s life that threatened with taking it but were never strong enough to succeed. Accidental blowing the flame off would mean bad luck, and a lot of it, especially for the unfortunate blower.

When Demok reached her, she turned her head, trying to blow the air out of the side of her beak and aiming at the sub-archon’s hands. With luck, the air movement would move the flame but not extinguish it.

The flame fluttered and Demok smiled to her. He seemed to appreciate her consideration.

When he returned to the front, he violently shook the candle and the flame disappeared. It meant that Boreep’s life ended before his time. If he died of old age, Demok would slowly extinguish the flame by squeezing the knot between his fingers.

She could see that his chest was shaking with silent sobs.

The ceremony concluded with the urn being placed in a small model of a monument; Av’Roo was sure it represented the mausoleum where the other urn, the one that was on Cardassia, would be placed. She didn’t want to use the word ‘real’ as this urn also was very real to her and certainly to other participants of the ceremony. She hoped she would have a chance to ask who made it.



Three weeks later


Jarol left her office and headed home. She could feel the stress of recent days in her tensed shoulders. She had had not idea how terrible those days had been for her emotionally, but now, after it was all over, she could feel the difference.

Her back hurt and her head throbbed.

She entered her quarters and immediately knew that something was wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it but was sure someone was in the quarters.

A whistling noise, faint at first but slowly growing, drew her attention. Too late she realised what it was.

The last thing in her mind’s eye were Laran’s and Arenn’s faces. Then, nothingness took over and her body hit the scorched by the explosion bulkhead.


End of episode 2

[Nerys Ghemor]

Wow. Amazing!

I was glad to see that Zamarran's wife was able to explain to him what happened with Dorak, where all of that anger came from. While I still think Dorak was a lot ruder than he needed to be (he could've simply said, "Leave me alone," and let that be the end of it), I hope that now Zamarran will remember that before he judges someone again. Not that he ever seemed to be in the habit of judging people--but we all make mistakes, even the best of us, and it's best that we learn from them.

I almost cried when I saw Jarol sharing AU Dukat's message with Laran. First to see how she remembered him...and then to see Laran benefit from the time he spent in your universe, too. Perhaps this is one of the ways AU Dukat's prayers were answered. No doubt he would wish none of this had happened--but he would be pleased to know that perhaps he could make a difference for the child (now a grown man) whose name he made sure he wouldn't be made to forget.

The mourning ceremony is so different from the ones I always pictured in the Sigils universe...very touching. Mine stripped away so, so much, from their ceremonies, for fear of the ceremony looking anything like what the Oralians used to do, that almost all that's left is either a military or state ritual.

As for Jarol...looks like she's in a lot of trouble there!

(BTW...I notice you have the Cardassian heart located in a different place than I do. But then, that also has to do with the function of the krilătbre-yezul, as it's called in Sigils, which I suspect is quite different from the chanth in yours.)

[Gul Re'jal]

I almost cried when I saw Jarol sharing AU Dukat's message with Laran.

So did I writing it. I thought that his words would help her to help Laran and herself. It's "easy" to feel guilty and difficult to understand that you are not, but it's not easy to watch someone you love doing the same.

The mourning ceremony is so different from the ones I always pictured in the Sigils universe...very touching. Mine stripped away so, so much, from their ceremonies, for fear of the ceremony looking anything like what the Oralians used to do, that almost all that's left is either a military or state ritual.

Mine didn't go that far. They stripped it of any religious rites or words but didn't go as far as remove all of symbolism (or superstitions--the bad luck part; even if many don't believe in it, they still wouldn't want to blow the flame off).

But then, that also has to do with the function of the krilătbre-yezul, as it's called in Sigils, which I suspect is quite different from the chanth in yours.

Do your Cardassians have their hearts in the middle, under the krilătbre-yezul? I don't remember if it was in any of your stories.

Chanth is such a vulnerable place that having the heart in the one of two spots without scales would be too risky--it's too easy to punch through (scales offer a bit more resistance) and stab the heart. So it's hidden under thicker muscle+scale covered skin and aorta runs under ridges, which aren't as protruding as those on their faces, but still there is visible bulge under those big, thick scales on their torsos.

[TerokNor]

Very touching. If any Bajoran or other species could have seen such a ceremony they surly would not have though of Cardassians only as Monsters. Glad Av´Roo was choosen to take part in it.

TerokNor

P.S. OF COURSE I am out here and reading! Tsss, just have to catch up. Told you that. :P

[Nerys Ghemor]

Gul Re'jal wrote:

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So did I writing it. I thought that his words would help her to help Laran and herself. It's "easy" to feel guilty and difficult to understand that you are not, but it's not easy to watch someone you love doing the same.

I definitely hope it helps both of them.

Mine didn't go that far. They stripped it of any religious rites or words but didn't go as far as remove all of symbolism (or superstitions--the bad luck part; even if many don't believe in it, they still wouldn't want to blow the flame off).

The superstition was actually the part that surprised me the most. I think my Cardassians treated even superstition as disloyalty, a lack of trust in the state. It wouldn't get you killed, necessarily (unless they decided it was evidence you were Oralian), but it was definitely likely to get you "re-educated."

They decided they were more "evolved" than those pathetic Oralians, and they did not "need" symbols, that they could face the "cold, hard truth." (Does that sound like any other group of people in Sigils?)

I will send you in private what the mindset of my Cardassians really was, since I don't want to use that particular phrasing in public.

Do your Cardassians have their hearts in the middle, under the krilătbre-yezul? I don't remember if it was in any of your stories.

Yes, that's where their heart is. I think I've referred to that on several occasions.

I haven't come up with it yet, but I think they have a different word for the place on their chest. It's _____-yezul, but I'm not sure what the other word is yet.

Chanth is such a vulnerable place that having the heart in the one of two spots without scales would be too risky--it's too easy to punch through (scales offer a bit more resistance) and stab the heart. So it's hidden under thicker muscle+scale covered skin and aorta runs under ridges, which aren't as protruding as those on their faces, but still there is visible bulge under those big, thick scales on their torsos.

The node on my Cardassians' foreheads is a bit more vulnerable, though there is still bone there. But because of the function of the one on my Cardassians' chests--or the function it once served, that it no longer does, it is actually very well protected by bone. It used to be the "internal sensor," for lack of better words, that monitored one's own bioelectric fields and the brain took that information to filter that out when receiving external bioelectric information from the node on the forehead. Because it did not need to sense any external information, and needed information from the heart more than anything, it could be very heavily shielded.

Those nerves are no longer so sensitive, but the thick bone remains.

[Gul Re'jal]

Nerys Ghemor wrote:

---

I definitely hope it helps both of them.

Only time will tell

Nerys Ghemor wrote:

---

The superstition was actually the part that surprised me the most. I think my Cardassians treated even superstition as disloyalty, a lack of trust in the state. It wouldn't get you killed, necessarily (unless they decided it was evidence you were Oralian), but it was definitely likely to get you "re-educated."

My Cardassians wanted to remove "religious superiority" of the Oralians, but they didn't want to completely "delete" and recreate culture from scratch. Those extreme revolutionists were stopped from doing it, as "normal" revolutionists wanted the people's support. Denying all their customs could turn the people against them, not make them follow them.

Nerys Ghemor wrote:

---

The node on my Cardassians' foreheads is a bit more vulnerable, though there is still bone there. But because of the function of the one on my Cardassians' chests--or the function it once served, that it no longer does, it is actually very well protected by bone. It used to be the "internal sensor," for lack of better words, that monitored one's own bioelectric fields and the brain took that information to filter that out when receiving external bioelectric information from the node on the forehead. Because it did not need to sense any external information, and needed information from the heart more than anything, it could be very heavily shielded.

Those nerves are no longer so sensitive, but the thick bone remains.

I remember that, this certainly appeared a few times in your stories, especially in contexts of sudden approach and risks it could pose.

I am not quite sure, yet, what chanth is/was for exactly.

[Nerys Ghemor]

Gul Re'jal wrote:

---

My Cardassians wanted to remove "religious superiority" of the Oralians, but they didn't want to completely "delete" and recreate culture from scratch. Those extreme revolutionists were stopped from doing it, as "normal" revolutionists wanted the people's support. Denying all their customs could turn the people against them, not make them follow them.

Mine inflamed the people's anger so much that enough people did want to destroy the old culture--anything that even slightly reminded them of the Oralians--that they could win the revolution and then start working on killing dissenters.

I remember that, this certainly appeared a few times in your stories, especially in contexts of sudden approach and risks it could pose.

Right...my Cardassians' aversion to unexpected/sudden touch, and the intimacy of invited touch, is because they have an additional sense. The bioelectric sense used to be stronger in their ancestors, because it helped them detect prey and avoid other predators. I got the idea from the Cardassian vole--or at least the reason I thought the vole loved power conduits.

[Gul Re'jal]

Nerys Ghemor wrote:

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Mine inflamed the people's anger so much that enough people did want to destroy the old culture--anything that even slightly reminded them of the Oralians--that they could win the revolution and then start working on killing dissenters.

I think what saved lots of culture of my Hebitia is that not all of it was Oralian in origin in the first place. Some things pre-dated Oralians. The Oralians weren't the first religion in Hebitia and when they were destroying that "predecessor," they also didn't eradicate all customs--for the same reason: people would turn against them if they forbade them doing something that they had been doing for generations (a bit like Christianity absorbed some of pagan rites/rituals and made their own).

[Nerys Ghemor]

Gul Re'jal wrote:

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I think what saved lots of culture of my Hebitia is that not all of it was Oralian in origin in the first place. Some things pre-dated Oralians. The Oralians weren't the first religion in Hebitia and when they were destroying that "predecessor," they also didn't eradicate all customs--for the same reason: people would turn against them if they forbade them doing something that they had been doing for generations (a bit like Christianity absorbed some of pagan rites/rituals and made their own).

The Oralians weren't the first on my world, either. How they related to the "predecessors" really depended on the situation. In some cases I think they did well--they convinced people peacefully, and people genuinely felt, "I want to become Oralian." I think the Oralian missionaries, in those cases, had every right to use that kind of respectful persuasion, and those who converted had every right to change religions, or go from no religion to becoming Oralian. In other cases, they did not do well. The near-genocide of the Hăzăkda people (Daro and Telle's ethnicity) was the most flagrant of these failures.

But I know that Akleen on my Cardassia was so angry at religion and so insistent on the power of the state that he destroyed it all (Oralian, pre-Oralian, whatever...he didn't care). ANYTHING that could be a rival god...he attacked it almost like a conquering Hebitian, way back in their world's past, would intentionally desecrate their enemy's holy sites. Such acts were intended to demoralize and to break the will of the conquered. Akleen never admitted it, but he was exhibiting the EXACT same behavior as the type of Oralians, or members of other faiths, that he hated the most.

I think that the only thing that Akleen decided he dared not attack was the family. That was the thing that would have caused my Cardassians to lose all respect for him, the one thing they would not tolerate.