Star Trek: Wings of the Renaissance

A Star Trek fanfiction by Andrew Joshua Talon

DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan-based work of prose. Star Trek is the property of CBS and Paramount. Please support the official release.


Federation Starbase Deep Space Nine, Bajoran Sector

2370


The bar was lively and noisy. Filled with the sounds and smells of beverages and food from dozens of worlds. The dabo wheel spun in the background, sapient beings from across the Quadrant hooting, cheering and gasping at every outcome. Soft music from the promenade faintly reached Shran's ears, as he paused at the entrance to take in the atmosphere and look around. He felt a faint smile curve his lips, his antenna rising to scan around through the diverse cacophony of lifeforms. Turns out, he didn't need to look long.

"Commander!" A burly human with curly red hair in engineering gold stood up from his table, and waved at Shran. Shran's smile grew into a grin, as he walked through the crowd in front of the bar to reach his friend. The man reached out to shake a hand… And Shran moved past it just to capture the human in a tight hug.

"O'Brien! How many damned times do I have to tell you-"

"I know, sir, I know," Miles O'Brien laughed back, returning the hug with only a little awkwardness, "but I can't just turn it off!"

"You and your love of protocol," Shran huffed, slapping O'Brien on the shoulder with friendly force. O'Brien returned it, grinning back.

"I prefer to speak with actions, sir," he replied. "After all, who owes who a bar of latinum?"

"I paid that in full with interest, Miles. You just seem to keep forgeting it," Shran retorted goodnaturedly, lightly elbowing the engineer. The Irishman scoffed, his grin unshaken.

"Better than remembering it and denying it, sir," he shot back, shoulder bumping Shran back. Shran threw his head back and laughed again, his antenna shaking in mirth.

"Ah… Hem…" A soft voice broke awkwardly. Shran and O'Brien looked across the table. A tall, gangly human in medical blue was sitting there, smiling self consciously. O'Brien nodded and gestured across the table.

"Commander Ther'in Shran, this is Doctor Julian Bashir. Chief Medical officer, Deep Space Nine. Julian, this is Commander Ther'in Shran: Old friend of mine. He commands the training base at Valo II that's helping the Bajorans learn how to fly modern starships and the like."

"A pleasure," Bashir said, reaching across the table for a handshake. Shran took it, shaking hard to the point Bashir almost winced. Still, he held on, which immediately improved the stand of the reedy human in Shran's eyes.

"Friend of O'Brien's is a friend of mine," Shran said decisively. He sat down, Miles following suit next to him. "What's on tap?"

"Vithi beer, properly cold," Miles said. He raised up a hand. "Quark! Bring it out!"

A Ferengi in a predictably eye scarring suit emerged from the bustle, holding a platter with three mugs covered in frost. He set it down with an oily smile.

"I'm Quark. I own this establishment. Anything I can get you, please, don't hesitate to ask," he said. He added a bowl of peanuts to the center. "Enjoy!" He bowed, and went off to continue his work. Bashir hid a smile, as O'Brien sighed. Shran glanced over at his friend.

"Polite, isn't he?"

"It's refreshing. Less time you spend with him, the better," Miles opined. Bashir took a sip of his beer-And immediately began coughing, some frosted foam left on his upper laughed.

"New to Andorian beverages, Doctor?"

"I-hack-I knew it was chilled, I didn't know it was frozen," Bashir hacked out. Miles laughed, as Shran held his own mug up.

"Not quite. It's below freezing, but the natural antifreeze keeps it liquid," he explained. He drank it down, draining the mug in almost no time at all. He let out a breath of satisfaction, the concoction washing through him like a refreshing dip in a cold spring. "Haa… Not bad."

"It's best to let it warm up a little first," Miles advised Bashir, who had wiped his face with a napkin. Shran chuckled.

"It's best when it's cold as possible, Chief!"

"I like it just fine when my tongue's not been turned to ice," Miles replied with a grin. "Now a good stout, that's heaven."

The two began debating various spirits they'd imbibed over the years, pros, cons, and embarrassing incidents that always make up drinking stories. Bashir mostly stayed quiet, trying not to seem like an upper class fop out of his element and nearly succeeding. It was silently decided between Miles and Shran to give the doctor a break, shifting over to personal backgrounds. Bashir eagerly took to the topic.

"...Which is when I decided Deep Space Nine would be my first assignment. Which is where I met the Chief here," Bashir concluded his tale, one beginning with university rather than the start of his life as Shran had feared. The doctor gave them a smile. "So! How did you and the Chief meet?"

Shran let out a breath. It was easier when you knew the question was coming, after all.

"Setlik III," said someone else. Shran and Miles looked up at the speaker. Another familiar face-A tall, dark skinned human man in command red. Shran allowed himself a smile, one the speaker returned.

"Hello Cal," he said. Miles rose, a "sir" on his lips, but Calvin Hudson held out a hand.

"At ease, Chief. It's a bar, not a bridge," he said. He pulled up a fourth chair, calling for a drink from the strangely eager Ferengi waiter. He ordered the same Vithi beer as the others, and let it sit to warm.

"It's been too long, Shran," Cal said. Shran nodded.

"It has been," he replied. Miles was studiously looking into his own drink. At length, the chief looked up and gave Cal a sympathetic, understanding look.

"I heard about your family, Commander. I'm sorry," he said. Cal nodded back, and took a deep breath.

"Well… That's what my assignment is all about: Preventing that from happening… Again." He looked back at O'Brien. "Have you heard from Captain Maddox?"

"He's doing all right in the penal colony," Miles said quietly. He managed a forced smile. "He's been organizing the work, improved efficiency of the maintenance crews 130 percent."

Cal nodded back, an equally forced smile on his face. "Never could keep him down. I've heard he might be released early."

"That's great to hear," Miles said, his smile less brittle. Bashir looked about as uncomfortable a man could look, but was trying his hardest not to look it. Shran sighed heavily, taking pity on him.

"Doctor, if you need to make your excuses-"

"Oh, no! No, not at all! I just, well, I… Don't know much. About the Cardassian Wars," he admitted, an honest answer. "Much less… Setlik III…" His eyes widened. "This… This is the anniversary of it. Isn't it?" He looked around. Shran and Miles slowly nodded, while Calvin Hudson looked grimmer than usual.

"Yeah, it is," Miles voiced the obvious.

Bashir glanced at Calvin. The lieutenant commander shook his head.

"I was an ensign on one of the relief ships, after…" He nodded to Shran. The Andorian took a deep breath, his antenna tensed as though looking for enemies.

"I suppose it would be nice… To get the story straight," Shran said, trying for humor and failing. He took another pull of his refilled mug, letting the cold burn of alcohol wash over his senses. He set the mug down, but didn't let it go as his eyes focused hard somewhere else. O'Brien had the same far away look.

"I was assigned to the Ibuki, a Curry-class carrier," Shran said. "I was an ensign, a year out of flight school. We'd been doing routine operations: Disaster relief, planetary survey, a mapping expedition and anti-piracy patrol. Usual stuff. We'd gotten a few distress calls from ships, scared about the Cardies but they were all false alarms. Until this one…"


To be continued...