ST: Shaping a Cardassian - "Where Stars Sank"

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Gul Re'jal, Sep 18, 2011.

  1. Gul Re'jal

    Gul Re'jal Commodore Commodore

    Jun 28, 2010
    Gul Re'jal is suspecting she's on the wrong space
    Sept 2011 Challenge--ST: Shaping a Cardassian -- "Where Stars Sank"

    The story was inspired by TrekBBS September 2011
    Challenge. It cannot submitted, because it doesn’t meet the requirement of minimum word count and I don’t want to “dilute” it by adding empty words. Still, I hope you’ll enjoy it.

    I would also like to thank my beta readers, kes7 and Lil Black Dog, for their valuable suggestions :)

    ETA: Cobalt Frost has let me enter the contest, in spite of being a bit short of the required word count, so hereby the story is submitted to the challenge. Thanks! :)

    Story note: Nokar and Eheen are continents on Cardassia Prime.

    Where Stars Sank

    Rafgan, a small island near the east coast of the continent of Nokar, Hebitia One, the Third Hebitian Republic

    Fisherman Kodir Matassan woke up and at first he wasn’t sure what had happened. Had it been noise or a tremor? It took merely a few seconds to know that it had been both. Kodir’s wife sat up and gave him a scared look. “What’s happening?” she asked quietly.

    “I don’t know,” he answered shaking his head and getting up.

    Sanit got up, too. “I’ll check the kids.”

    He nodded, not even sure if she could see him in the faint light that was falling through the only window into their bedroom and followed her out, passing by the children’s room, though, and heading for the main exit.

    Barefoot, he stood outside their small house, which he had built seven years ago with his own hands, and looked up at the dark sky.

    But the sky was not completely dark. Beside the familiar blinking spots of distant stars, it was marred by golden lines. He knew what it was: more fragments of what used to be the planet’s only natural satellite.

    Not long time ago a comet or another meteorite—Kodir was never good at that scientific terminology—had hit their moon and caused its destruction. Not only the satellite had been pushed off its orbit but also small debris had broken off and now they were littering Hebitia’s surface, causing unimaginable damage and countless deaths. The fisherman understood little of the scientific babbling from news broadcasts, but he understood one thing: this was just the beginning. Without their moon, the planet’s tilt would not be as stable as it used to be and that would bring some disastrous changes to its inhabitants—the Hebitians.

    Smart brains had calculated where the debris that used to be the dark side’s surface of the moon would fall and the most endangered regions had been evacuated, but it still was not enough. Rafgan was one of those high-risk places, though it was not in the top ten, just merely in top twenty, but almost everyone had refused to leave, hoping that Oralius would steer the moon’s fragments away from them.

    Now, looking at the sky, for the first time Kodir wondered that maybe the decision to stay hadn’t been such a good idea. The points of impact were beyond the island, but he knew how dangerous the sea could be if not treated with due respect and hitting it with huge rocks of a celestial body was not respect.

    He felt Sanit’s hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

    “I am not sure,” he answered, realising that he didn’t feel any more tremors. “But it doesn’t look good,” he added, pointing to the sky.

    She raised her head and squinted her eyes. “So they were right when they said that one of the ‘moon rains’ was going to hit us.”

    “How are the kids?”


    Kodir’s eye ridges shot up. “It didn’t wake them up?”

    “It would appear that yester—” Sanit didn’t have a chance to finish when another tremor moved the land under their feet. Kodir thought he heard an explosion somewhere in the distance, but his ears were more susceptible to crying coming from the house now.

    Without a word, Sanit returned inside, leaving her husband in the cool air of the night in his pyjamas, standing barefoot in mud.

    The crying subsided but another explosion-like noise sounded and Kodir had no doubts this time—something had blown up. But what could that be? He looked toward the sound and reflections of flames cast shadows on his suddenly pale face. “Sweet Oralius,” he muttered. He turned and ran back into the house, not paying attention to all dirt he brought in on his feet. “Sanit, get the kids and leave the house! Now!”

    “Daddy!” Nakor pulled his hands toward his father and Kodir raised the boy, who immediately wrapped his hands around his dad’s neck. “I’m scared. Did the moon monster come to eat us?”

    “The moon monster?”

    “The moon monster that ate the moon and now will eat us?”

    “No, my sweet Soldier. No one will eat us,” his father assured him, praying to Oralius that he hadn’t just told a lie. He turned to his wife, who carried their younger son. “To the boat.” She nodded and followed him outside.

    The government representative had come to them some time ago and suggested to evacuate to another place, to a city in Nokar, but Kodir had refused. He had been born on this island, he had learnt his profession from his father on this island and he always thought he would die on this island. What could he, a fisherman, do in a big city? Though, he had hoped he would die on this island many years in the future, not now!

    They arrived on the beach and Kodir led his family to his boat. Then he headed back down the gangplank.

    “Where are you going?” The panic in Sanit’s voice was palpable.

    “I must get the others, I must get the guide.” He knew his boat was a fairly safe means of escape from the island, but he couldn’t just run leaving literally everyone behind. He had to try to get as many people on the boat as possible, as he was certain that the air transportation wouldn’t suffice to take everyone to Nokar in time.

    His wife was just about to say something, but her mouth shut without a sound and she looked beyond her husband. He turned to see a group of people running to them. Someone stumbled and fell, as the ground shook again.

    “Fisherman Matassan, we must leave the island!” someone shouted.

    “What’s going on?” Kodir asked, trying to locate the owner of the voice in the crowd.

    “The orchards are on fire and it spreads quickly.” It was Rafgan castellanis called Fagor. Kodir noted that he was unbelievably calm under the circumstances.

    “Castellanis Fagor, but...” Kodir didn’t understand anything. “Where’s the point of impact.”

    “The west coast of our island,” Fagor explained. “Some rocks fell into the sea, some hit the trees. They have already reached and destroyed all transportation shuttles. Support troop emergency boats are also gone, as for some reason the sea level lowered and the fire reached the boats, spreading on the dried bottom on the sea.”

    Now Kodir understood what kind of explosions he had heard: the shuttles. Rafgan had regular shuttle connection with the mainland and three of shuttles were parked on the island, while the other three on the other side of the strait, on the continent’s shore. With them gone and with the military boats destroyed there was no other way of leaving the island...except for his boat.

    He started calculations in his mind: what kind of cargo the boat could manage to take and how many people lived on the island. He didn’t need any computer-like skills to know that there was no way for everyone to get on board.

    However, Fagor seemed to have everything planned. “Gostan, didn’t I tell you to bring the guide?”

    A young man, whom Kodir didn’t know, said, “She refused. She said she wanted to stay in the temple and pray to Oralius for our safe escape.”

    The castellanis rolled his eyes. “Tell her Oralius would hear her from anywhere. Bring her by force, if you have to, damn it, but I won’t leave her here!”

    Gostan ran back toward the village in the middle of the island, while Fagor looked at Kodir. “Can we use your boat?” he asked.

    The fisherman was surprised at first; such a dire need and the castellanis was asking him for permission to use his boat? “Naturally,” he replied, hoping that no one took his surprise for hesitation. “First, we’ll need to remove any non-necessary items from the boat, so that it could carry more people.” He looked toward the small crowd. “I need ten people to help me,” he said louder. He chose volunteers and told them to follow him.

    They threw out the whole cargo, all pieces of sparse furniture and everything else that was not really needed. Some people brought food, while the castellanis returned to his office in an attempt of notifying someone in Bavosal, the nearest Nokarian city, where to look for the boat with the survivors.

    Kodir also noticed that some people sailed from all around the island in their small recreational boats. They weren’t able to take many people and they would not be able to sail far, but they would keep people alive while the whole island were to be consumed by fire.

    People were slowly gathering on the beach and Kodir’s heart started to slowly sink. His fishing boat was a big one—after all his business was not only for the local market but also for Bavosal and other villages along the coast—but far from sufficient for that kind of crowd. When disassembling the crane that carried nets with caught fish, he glanced at the gathered people—in spite of his own promise not to do that for he didn’t want to see how many there were...going to be left—and noticed that the guide was among the others now. He was glad to see that the young man had managed to convince her to join. She was too important and too wise to let her die. He also noticed the inquisitor, who tried to control a group of young teenagers. With a startle he realised that most of the people on the beach were below twenty years of age. Where were their parents? A second later an explanation shot through his head—the parents had decided to make sure their children would survive even if they wouldn’t themselves and sent them alone to the beach to spare the kids the horrors of farewell—so he refused to dwell on it and returned to his work, trying to concentrate on it and not anything else.

    The castellanis called him, so Kodir returned to the beach. On his way down the gangplank he noticed orange light above the island had become brighter—the fire was consuming more and more of the small land. He also realised that the gangplank was now in a bit different position than it had been when he had boarded the boat the last time. Had the sea level lowered?

    “Matassan, we will try to fit all younger children on your boat plus the guide and the inquisitor. All kids know them, so they wouldn’t be so scared. You also must go, as you are the only one you can drive that thing.”

    “Steer,” the fisherman corrected him.

    Fagor nodded. “Steer that thing. The older children will get on smaller boats, since they are big enough to understand how to behave on such a small craft not to fall overboard.”

    “I understand.” And he did, but it felt awfully wrong to escape while so many others couldn’t.

    Everyone who had helped to clear the boat of the unnecessary stuff left the boat and the inquisitor led the children of all ages aboard. Kodir stood near the gangplank, making sure no one fell into water and he did his best not to panic. From the corner of his eye he observed his wife, who stood on the shore with a solemn look on her face. It hadn’t been said yet, but he knew what it meant—she had to stay. He had to leave her behind. But how could he leave, knowing that his beloved would...he felt tears filling his eyes and wiped them away with a sleeve, realising that he still was in his pyjamas. He looked toward the village again and then toward the sea. He saw that some of small boats floated very near the beach and wondered why people pulled them that far into the sand. He knew it would make it much more difficult to sail away if a boat was in shallow water. He looked at his own boat and with a start realised that the fire wasn’t the only problem that threatened the inhabitants. Not only the boats were in shallower water now, but also his fishing vessel. He had not moved it, but it didn’t change the fact that the water level was different: lower. No natural tide would behave like that—and he knew it was not the time for this kind of tide—so there had to be another reason. His heart almost stopped beating when he understood what it was: a drawdown. If he had any hope that they would survive, it was gone now, as his practised eye of a man of the sea interpreted the sign: a drawdown meant that a tsunami was coming. One of moon rocks had to be big enough to cause giant waves, which were now closing to the island to consume it.

    He shot a glance at all the small boats near the shore and closed his eyes, trying not to burn in his memory all those faces, because he knew that there was no chance the boats and their passengers would withstand a hit of a giant wave. He was torn between telling them it was hopeless and letting them fight for their lives. Which was less cruel, Oralius, tell me, please!

    He glanced at the immersion sensor installed on the hull of his boat and instinctively raised his hand. Normally it meant that the boat was full and the load of cargo should be stopped, but in this case the meaning of this simple gesture hit him like a hammer. No one else could board or they would all die. He realised that the surprisingly calm so far crowd grew nervous, as parents of the left-out children started to panic. Someone started to cry and beg to let her child board the boat. Some voices joined her, some tried to hush her and some scolded her. Someone intoned a prayer to Oralius—Kodir guessed it was the guide—and many people joined the singing.

    His brain started making a new calculation. He looked at his thin wife; she had helped him to fish many times before and she had some knowledge of sailing. But what was more important—she was half his weight. If he meant four kids, she meant eight. That’s the only thing he needed to know. One of them had to stay aboard to steer the boat, but it had to be the lighter one.

    He waved for her to approach the gangplank and left the boat. “You will take them,” he whispered to her and before she had time to protest, he raised his hand with four fingers stretched and shouted, “Four more kids!” Her eyes opened wide, as she fully understood what he was doing. She shook her head, speechless and he wrapped his arms around her to give her the strongest and warmest hug of her life...and the last one from him. “Remember,” he whispered to her ear, “remember and never forget.” She nestled her face in his chest, but she didn’t sob. She was the bravest person he knew.

    One of teenagers pushed his younger sister toward the gangplank and the inquisitor helped the girl to board the boat. Due to their young age—and low weight—they managed to save four more in addition to the girl. Five in total.

    He gave Sanit the last kiss and gently pushed her toward the gangplank. Instead of goodbye, he said, “Take them all under deck. Tsunami’s coming—don’t let them see that.” Don’t let them see the huge wave washing us all off the shore into the sea. Don’t let them see how scared we were and don’t let them hear how loud we screamed in fear and pain. Don’t let them remember their parents as fragile, dying and terrified people; make sure they remember brave mothers and fathers who sacrificed their lives for their safety. He didn’t say all that but he knew she understood him well.

    Tears shone in her eyes. “I won’t,” she said bravely, but she didn’t look brave.

    “And make sure the boat is at the correct angle to waves not to be turned upside down,” he continued instructing her, but she grabbed his head, neared her face to his and kissed him, stopping his fast speech. She was shaking and for a second he feared that she wouldn’t manage, but a moment later, seeing her climbing up the gangplank and instructing the inquisitor to take the kids under the deck, he knew that he had underestimated her.

    She leaned over the board toward him. “I won’t let anyone forget what you did here today,” she said.

    The boat unmoored and then left.

    Kodir turned to the people in small boats. Some had already left and were to far to hear him, but he called them anyway. “Return to the shore! Return now, tsunami is coming and those boats—”

    “We’ll take our chances,” someone shouted back.

    “The boats are too small, the run-up will destroy them.”

    A few faces expressed doubt and looked uncertainly at others.

    “Get on the boat!” the local grocery clerk yelled at his wife. “We won’t be any safer on the island and this way we at least have a chance!”

    “No, you don’t,” Kodir whispered resigned.

    The clerk’s wife followed her husband’s instruction and got into a small boat, in which there were already too many people and water was getting inside.

    Kodir wished he could do something more, but he knew he was helpless. He looked toward his boat and prayed for its passengers and their survival. It brought him some relief to see that the boat had been steered correctly not to be turned upside down by the run-up. The position didn’t guarantee complete safety, but it maximised their chances.

    As the boats disappeared in the darkness of the night and the sea, the sounds on the beach faded away. Many people left—Kodir was guessing—in a futile attempt to find a way to survive the disaster. Many stayed, though, and fell almost completely silent, unless counting soft singing. Kodir couldn’t believe how quiet it became. All they could hear was the song to Oralius, hum of the black sea and crackling of orange flames behind them. He sat on sand and closed his eyes. His duty as a Hebitian was fulfilled—he had sacrificed his life for the good of others. Oralius should be satisfied and he hoped she’d accept him in her kingdom.
    Last edited: Sep 19, 2011
  2. Gul Re'jal

    Gul Re'jal Commodore Commodore

    Jun 28, 2010
    Gul Re'jal is suspecting she's on the wrong space
    Lakat, the continent of Eheen, Cardassia Prime, the Cardassian Union

    Laran put his finger on a blue part of the map. “Mommy, why is this part of the ocean called ‘Where Stars Fell’? There’s no star here. There’s nothing here, just water.”

    “Come here, Droplet, I’ll tell you a story.” Atira, a native of Nokar, sat in an armchair and pulled her arms toward her five-year-old son. The big map on the floor forgotten, he ran to her and with her help climbed up her knees.

    “I like stories,” he declared.

    “I know. But this story is special.”


    “Because it really happened.” Little Laran’s eyes opened wide as she started to say, “Long time ago there was a small island near the east coast of Nokar—”

    “That’s where you are from, Mommy, isn’t it?” he interrupted.

    “That’s right,” she confirmed with a smile and then continued. “And on that island there was a small village. And in that village lived a wise fisherman. He was the leader of his people and very, very smart. And he knew what the sacrifice was.

    “One day a big rock from the outer space hit the Hebitian moon, and little pieces of the moon fell on the planet and the moon itself was pushed out from the orbit.”

    “And moon people died?”

    She smiled. “There were no moon people on the moon, Droplet.”


    She went on. “But there were people on the planet. And they were very scared, because the planet moved. Nokar was not warm and pleasant any longer, since it moved to the north.”

    “What about the island and the fisherman?”

    She was glad to see that her son listened carefully. “A rain of stars fell on the island and everyone had to run away. But there was no escape, because all air shuttles and all ships had been destroyed in fire. The only way to leave the island was the fisherman’s boat.”

    “Was it big enough?”

    “No, it wasn’t.” Laran’s facial expression changed to great sadness, as his mother kept saying, “There were many parents on the island, many mommies and daddies who loved their children as much as I love you. And they wanted their children to leave the island on the boat.”

    “And how did they leave the island?”

    “They didn’t.” She gave the boy a moment to digest it and then continued, “The fisherman did all he could to take as many children as the boat could carry; he even decided to stay on the island himself so that a few more children could take his place. No one asked him to do that, because it was his boat, but that was his choice.”

    “His sacrifice,” Laran said and his mother smiled, glad that he understood the story. “Where is that island now?”

    “It’s gone. The sea took it and buried it. But we didn’t forget about the brave fisherman and his friends and how they all saved all children from the island. His wife cried for many days for she missed her husband and his children cried with her for they wanted to be with their daddy, but they knew that his sacrifice was sacred and they would never dare to reject it. They appreciated it and they spread the word about the brave fisherman who saved all children from the island from the falling stars.”

    “They were like you, and me, and daddy.” Laran didn’t ask a question; it was a statement.

    Atira smiled. She’d never thought about it that way, but there indeed was some similarity: her husband had also risked and lost his life to protect her and other Cardassians. He’d paid the highest price, but thanks to his decision she was alive and so was little Laran. Tears shone in her eyes as she felt for the fisherman’s wife—they were separated by five hundred years and different culture, but they certainly mourned their loved ones the same way and treasured what was left. She hugged her son, putting her chin in the top of his head and he didn’t resist.

    Mourn him, cry and miss him every moment, but also be proud of him and don’t let people forget that he was a hero. They both were: her husband and the fisherman.

    Lakat, the continent of Eheen, Cardassia Prime, the Cardassian Union

    “Story time!” Laran ran toward his uncle, who had just sat with a padd in an armchair. “Story, story, story!” The boy kept jumping in front of the man, his small heels making a lot of noise on the floor.

    Arenn, a native of Eheen, looked at his padd, which contained a novel he was reading, and then at his nephew. He had no heart to disappoint the boy, so he put away the padd and patted his thighs. “Jump on.”

    The five-year-old climbed up and sat comfortably between Arenn’s arms.

    The uncle began. “Long time ago there was a small island in the hot region of Hebitia. And on that island lived a fisherman with his family: his wife and two boys, one just like you. One day a rain of stars fell on the island and evil fire wanted to eat everything and everyone. But there lived a very smart prefect on the island, who had an idea of saving many, many people. He asked the fisherman if he would agree to take all children from the island on his boat and take them to safety.”

    “The fisherman agreed because he knew what was sacrifice,” Laran interjected.

    Arenn smiled. “He agreed, yes. But the boat was too small and not everyone could board it. So the prefect asked him if he had any ideas how to make the boat better and able to carry more people, but the fisherman didn’t know how to do it, unless he himself would not board it. But who would steer the boat?” Laran shook his head, not knowing the answer. “He quickly taught his wife how to steer the boat and she boarded it. She was smaller and lighter than he, so more than one person could replace him.”

    Laran frowned. “Mommy told me this story but it was different.”

    Arenn grinned. “Was it?”

    “She told me that it had been the fisherman’s idea to use his boat, not prefect’s. There was no prefect at all! Are you lying to me?” The boy’s suspicious look was adorable and the uncle did his best not to laugh.

    “I would never lie to you, Laran, you know that.” Arenn paused, wondering how to explain that to the boy. “Mommy and I told you the same story, it’s just one really knows what exactly happened, so we try to tell it the best we can.”

    “So which one to real?”

    “Both. And none.”

    Laran gave Arenn such a look that the man again almost burst into laughter: disbelief mixed with scepticism on the tiny face. “Explain,” the boy demanded.

    “I cannot. I do not understand it myself.”

    Thin eye ridges frowned. “Hmmm...who was the first to tell this story?” he asked

    Arenn felt nothing less than pride of the clever boy. “The fisherman’s wife and his children.”

    “And what did they say?”

    “That told everyone what had happened. And then those people told other people what had happened. And so for over five hundred years people told and re-told this story...and the truth blended with imagination.”

    Laran grew even more suspicious. “Why? Didn’t they remember?”

    Accusing a Cardassian of forgetting was offensive and Laran knew that. Arenn had to do something not to let the boy get the wrong impression from the story. “No, my Soldier, they did remember. But the story is so sad that everyone feels sad when telling it. And many people added something to make the story even more important, to make sure that everyone understood how brave was the fisherman, his wife and everyone else on that little island.” The uncle realised that it was very difficult to explain it to the inquisitive boy. He felt like sinking under scrutinising him sceptic eyes. “People told the story the best they could, trying not to omit anything important, trying not to omit the lesson it teaches us.”

    “The sacrifice if the greatest good and a duty of every Cardassian,” Laran intoned.

    Arenn nodded. “Yes, you know the words and you repeat them as you were taught. But do you feel them,” he said, placing his hand on the boy’s chest.

    Laran’s facial expression changed and all doubt vanished. “Tell me the story again,” he asked and Arenn granted his request with delight.

    The End
    Last edited: Sep 18, 2011
  3. Sandoval

    Sandoval Fleet Captain Fleet Captain

    Jul 21, 2010
    It's a well written piece of work without question. But what I appreciated was the 'lived in' quality that it brings to the Star Trek universe, the idea of fishermen working on Cardassia for example bringing life to the 'little people' that we rarely see in Star Trek, as opposed to the big players of starship captains and emperors and the like. :)
  4. Gul Re'jal

    Gul Re'jal Commodore Commodore

    Jun 28, 2010
    Gul Re'jal is suspecting she's on the wrong space
    The fisherman certainly isn't a famous hero, who saves the world in the last moment. I wanted this story to be about one "insignificant" person, instead of big political/interstellar/space ship thing. Instead of cold description of planetary catastrophe, I decided to show it from a limited perspective of someone who experiences it first hand...and how it's remembered 500 years later.

    I'm glad that the idea worked :)

    Thank you for reading and commenting :)
  5. Sandoval

    Sandoval Fleet Captain Fleet Captain

    Jul 21, 2010
    In that case I'd suggest that you achieved your objective. :)
  6. Nerys Ghemor

    Nerys Ghemor Vice Admiral Admiral

    Aug 4, 2008
    Cardăsa Terăm--Nerys Ghemor
    After what happened in Japan this year, with the earthquake and tsunami, I can definitely see the warning signs in his piece that one is about to hit. It's especially dangerous that the level of the sea has dropped.

    I liked the different tellings of the story--especially Brenok struggling to explain how the story could possibly have changed when the people had eidetic memories! :lol:

    What a powerful, touching legend. :)
  7. Gul Re'jal

    Gul Re'jal Commodore Commodore

    Jun 28, 2010
    Gul Re'jal is suspecting she's on the wrong space
    Laran is a smart little boy and he sometimes asks difficult questions ;)

    The legend not only changed, but differs depending on the region of Cardassia. Legends tend to do that ;)
  8. Nerys Ghemor

    Nerys Ghemor Vice Admiral Admiral

    Aug 4, 2008
    Cardăsa Terăm--Nerys Ghemor
    That's what I noticed too.

    The concept of having legends from times that we consider to have modern technology is really amazing. I touched on it in The Desolate Vigil, with the Kekil-haaf and their origin, but you really did something awesome with a (very slightly) similar premise. :D
  9. Gul Re'jal

    Gul Re'jal Commodore Commodore

    Jun 28, 2010
    Gul Re'jal is suspecting she's on the wrong space
    Everything happened quite fast, so if there were some cameras and journalists sent, all they saw after their arrival was burning island washed away by huge waves. To protect the children and their privacy, all three surviving adults refused interviews and all that media mess, so their stories--or the wife's story, because I assumed that the legend was born after listening to her describing the events--were passed between people the traditional way, without media and technology. Later it was written down by different people from different regions and it gained a few "new faces."
  10. Nerys Ghemor

    Nerys Ghemor Vice Admiral Admiral

    Aug 4, 2008
    Cardăsa Terăm--Nerys Ghemor
    That's a very plausible way for something to reach "legendary status" in the technological age, without having to go the route I did and deal with a people who refused technology. (Though that said, the Kekil-haaf are more sophisticated by far than one might give them credit for by appearances.)
  11. Gul Re'jal

    Gul Re'jal Commodore Commodore

    Jun 28, 2010
    Gul Re'jal is suspecting she's on the wrong space
    Now, to think of it, this is probably the only event of those times that wasn't recorded and meticulously documented and that worked on everyone's imagination, so the story was passed between people with passion. It was different from all those reports they were getting about the tragedy and the Great Shift, as they eventually named the catastrophe.
  12. Nerys Ghemor

    Nerys Ghemor Vice Admiral Admiral

    Aug 4, 2008
    Cardăsa Terăm--Nerys Ghemor
    That's very plausible. :)