Out of Egypt

[Cptn Swain 0]

The Conestoga-class transport Providence cruised at low warp. Nearby the oblong brick of a ship, nearly two dozen similar transports cruised as well. From one of the few staterooms with a window, a tall, lankish figure cloaked in grey robes sat, looking into the deepness of the ocean of stars.

 

“Miranol,” she heard someone behind her call. “The last of the transports have joined us.”

 

“Good,” she said, turning to face an equally tall, though stockier figure dressed in deep blue robes of finer cloth than her own somewhat tattered robes.

 

“Many of us never thought this day would come,” he said. “We all owe you a great debt.”

 

Miranol waved a hand before returning her attention to the window. “I am owed nothing. It was my duty to my people, Nairiel.”

 

Nairiel sighed lowly and joined her at the window. “These have been trying years for our people.”

 

“Yes,” she said. “The true debt is owed to the Federation... without their help...”

 

“I only wish they could have provided us with more transports.”

 

“It could not be helped.”

 

Silence took them both for a moment as they watched out the window, gazing upon the dozens of transports. It was, for both of them a dream given form. Though her dress was demure, common even, Miranol was far from a commoner. Noble in blood, her family had ruled the Hakar for generations before the coming of the Dominion. When the Dominion obliterated her world, most of her family, save for her, her mother and her only brother, had been killed. Even now, aged though she was, Nairiel couldn’t help but admire her poise, strength and endurance.

 

Miranol looked away, her eyes distantly dancing across the stars, thinking of the journey that lay before them. The Federation had been kind enough to not only grant her people safe haven in the Alpha Quadrant with an uninhabited system for them to colonize, but also 14 ships capable of carrying hundreds of her people. The rest had managed to scavenge, beg, barrow, pled and steal dozens of small transports to join in the Great Exodus, as they were now calling it.

 

Nariel’s own eyes flickered as he looked across the rag-tag group of transports that had come together to form a fleet. They had traveled from across the sector to meet at the ruins of their former homeworld to begin the Great Exodus. They would travel for three weeks from the ruins of Harkaro to the Federation starbase Camelot, and from there journey to the wormhole that connected the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants and traverse to the new lands where they would start a new life on a distant planet called Omicron Beta.

 

His eyes drifted, perhaps unconsciously to a particular transport. “Do you think it was wise to allow even the dissidents like the Path to follow us to our new homeworld?”

 

She shook her head. “They are children of Hakar as much as anyone else.”

 

“But they spent years trying to dismantle your family’s legacy, can you now allow them to follow to a promised land?”

 

“They are as lost as we are; they may not believe in my divine providence, but Ariseath tells us to respect those who believe differently from us, for salvation is a very personal, intimate subject best left for the divine to sort.”

 

“But how can they continue to deny it in the face of evidence? You have delivered our people to a new world. For the first time since the Dominion destroyed our home, there is hope among the people and now these malcontents will destroy that.”

 

Miranol shook her head, continuing to look away from Nairel. “I have not delivered my people, yet.

 

“And when we do arrive in the new lands, they will be welcome to practices their beliefs freely, to speak dissent openly.”

 

“Your eminence...”

 

“Have we learned nothing from the Occupation and the Diaspora?”

 

“But... I … I just thought...”

 

“We will not be returning to the old ways when we land upon our new world,” Miranol said, finally looking back to Nariel. “The Council of Elders and I have agreed, we will establish a new government based on equality and democracy. Freedom, not doctrine, will be our guiding principle.”

 

“As you see fit,” Nariel said respectfully. “I suppose you are right, the gods sent the Dominion to us to allow us an opportunity to learn and to change.”

 

She frowned. The Dominion. Where were they now? The silver-tongued Vorta had promised much over the years. Promises that had kept her and her people from having a world of their own, as the Vorta feared that the Hakar would once again unite the sector against them. Fools, she thought, a tinge of anger and bitterness roiling her countenance.

 

“Is something wrong?” Nairiel said.

 

“No,” she said quickly, hiding her emotions once more.

 

But the feeling was still there. The Vorta had promised stability. Peace. Prosperity. Mercy. She remembered, trembling at her mothers feet, as the Generals of the Hakar Empire explained how surrendering would bring an end the the suffering. If only they’d known.

 

All of that was yesterday though. The Dominion had left the Korale sector to its own devices as they dealt with larger problems. She’d heard rumors of rebellion, of whole systems openly defying the Vorta, though in distant Korale such rumors were never to be believed. With the Dominion gone, many thought perhaps the Hakar would rise again, but the Kilath had quashed those hopes; so Miranol had looked to a new future.

 

Through a friend in the Zebrin government, who’d sheltered her and her family for many years, she’d met the Federation diplomats from the far Alpha Quadrant, and though she did not entirely trust the sharp tongued, pointy-eared Vulcans who represented their coalition of dozens of worlds -- their willingness to help her people seemed genuine and even if they had some ulterior motive, it was a chance they had to take. While the Dominion had let the Hakar live meagerly in the shadows, the Kalith would tolerate no such contenders; and so now, her and her people found themselves in space headed for the unknown lands of the Alpha Quadrant, beyond the vale of the Korale sector and through the Wormhole.

 

Her thoughts again turned to her decision to allow dissenters to join her people in their new lands. Her people had depended so long on others, could she now turn those in need away -- even if they believed differently from her? Beyond that, if there was to be a new future for her people, they would need strong leaders, like Trahar. Whether her young followers like Nariel, and the committed monarchist supporters wanted to believe it or not, she would not always be there for her people and when she was gone, the end of the House of Ka’e would be upon them.

 

“Captain Kajo,” Nariel said, “believes we’ll need too stop and allow the older transport’s warp coils to recharge soon.”

 

She nodded, her thoughts training back to the moment. “Of course. We must stay together.”

 

“He concurs.”

 

“What about the ion storm he was so worried about?”

 

“Kajo believes its still going to cause us some problems, but he believes we can make it to Camelot before it does.”

 

“Let us hope that an ion storm is the only thing we have to worry about...”