Operations was swarming with activity as the morning shift slowly began and the night shift was slipping into the shadows as they hurried to their individually separate quarters in the habitat ring. "Computer, begin morning shift." The internal computer of the station hummed softly, subtly heralding the sudden increase in the room's illumination.
Surveying the circular room, she absently noted the absence of the station's commanding officer. Shrugging it off, she mused the Bajoran could use a few extra minutes and put off summoning her. Despite the rejuvenation of their little corner of the galaxy, she knew that the last four years were difficult for her friend. She had refused to allow her friend to slip beyond the reach of anyone and had insisted on the Bajoran interacting with others on the station, in desperation she had sought the patent wisdom of Curzon and Jadzia. Dragging Bashir into her devious plot had merely been a spur of the moment decision when they had come across him in Quark's.
The Ferengi had been mortified as he helplessly watched as she had drug the pair kicking and screaming to the upper level of his bar. Manipulating Quark, she had managed to wrangle a holosuite free for the three of them. Selecting a program of twentieth century Earth had been her first mistake, she realized looking back with hindsight. The second was having the Ferengi provide authentic alcoholic beverages was the second.
An hour later found the trio deliriously drunk, lying on the stone floor of a deserted café in a replicated Paris, France. While she found herself relaxing as time went by, the others were farther gone. Bashir had curled up against the leg of a table and was mumbling incoherently about battle tactics for the defense of the Alamo to a non-present Chief O'Brien. The Bajoran woman was lying on her side, watching the amber liquid trickle from the glass limply held in her hand as tears streamed down her face. She realized then that nothing short of a miracle in the form of certain gruff Changeling was likely to change the Bajoran's mind, thus she had forced herself to be limit the forced socializing to pre-arranged meals throughout the day.
As the turbolift jerked to a halt, she let her eyes follow the exhausted form until it disappeared behind the sliding glass doors of the looming office. It seemed to the unbiased party that the Reckoning had indeed began despite the late Kai Winn's treacherous intervention. Since the end of the Dominion War, the Bajoran space station had found itself once more the pivotal point in the war between economy and physical space as ships once more braved the only known stable wormhole to explore the worlds that lay beyond. Bajor found itself submersed in an economical boom unseen in nearly a century as it prepared itself to become the newest world to join the Federation.
The computer console in front of her beeped, demanding her attention. Her lips pursed slightly as she turned her gaze back to the screen. As the data scrawled across the polished screen, her thoughts returned to the current events. While the bureaucratic politicians and various religious members debated on the latest issue brought before them, the crew of the orphaned Cardassian station labored to accommodate numerous visiting dignitaries and their ships' crews from at the mouth of the wormhole. Despite being originally designed to accommodate several Galor class warships simultaneously, the staff of Ops was forced to decline docking privileges to several vessels.
Several extra detachments of Bajoran security squadrons had been temporarily reassigned to the station in addition to both the Starfleet and Bajoran attachments that were already assigned. With the sudden influx in numbers of visitors and inhabitants, very few found the time to enjoy their off duty hours. While this inconvenience bothered a large percentage of the station's regular crew, she noticed that one in particular didn't seem to mind the extra work. Glancing up at the Commander's office, she watched the figure diligently work on the stack of padds piled on the geometrical Cardassian desk. She frowned as a wasp of hair limply fell and laid across the hand propping up the Bajoran's head.
The last four years had been a difficult trial for those that had been left behind, those slated to stay and man the station. After Sisko had left, she had found herself consoling a grieving Jake and a resigned Kassidy. Though she had accomplished the near impossible and continued a friendship that had spanned three hosts, Dax found herself realizing that she hadn't known Benjamin Sisko as well as she had believed two or even one host prior. A bittersweet warmth had enfolded her as she spent more and more time with his son and wife. Even his father, Joseph had illuminated a part of him that she had been oblivious to.
The console beeped, startling the Trill out of her thoughts. A soft smile spread across her youthful face as she recognized the source, her fingers danced lightly on the controls. Sometime during her rumination, the U.S.S. Roosevelt had arrived without her noticing. She was just grateful that no one else had noticed her lapse in attention to the activities surrounding the station. As the last command was entered, she turned towards the oval shaped screen. Her smile brightened as a familiar face filled the empty screen, "welcome to Deep Space Nine."
"I see you are still suffering from cheerfulness in the morning, Ensign."
"It's nice to see you again as well, Professor O'Brien. Though if you don't mind me saying, you're a bit late." Smiling, she noticed the confused look on O'Brien's face. "Lieutenant Campbell has finished installing the new deflector shields and has the environmental controls functioning, properly."
"You let a Scot's touch my station?" O'Brien blurted before smiling weakly at someone off the screen. "Bloody hell, probably doesn't even know a power conduit from a gell pack."
"Not my problem as I stayed here and you had to go traipsing back to Earth to teach at the Academy, now is it?"
"No respect for a man's prerogative, bloody hell."
"Besides Chief, what's the difference between an Irishman and a Scotsman?"
"What's the difference?!" O'Brien sputtered, clearly at a lost for words as he stared at Trill across subspace.
"You both drink and fight about the same," Dax smirked, her eyes twinkling as she was rewarded with a glare from the chief.
Pushing her husband to the side, Keiko smiled warmly at the Trill. "I was wondering if it wouldn't be too much trouble to come aboard, you two can continue this face to face."
"Of course, you must be tired from your trip from Earth. But with the current influx of ships in the vicinity, I'm afraid that the Roosevelt will not be allowed to dock and we'll have to send a runabout for you." Dax said apologetically.
"That's alright, Ezri." Keiko said cutting off her husband's protests before they had a chance to start. "We'll see you in a bit." Dax nodded absentmindedly as the screen faded to black, her fingers flying across the control panel of the console as she relayed instructions to the starship. The screen in front of her flashed as the vessel acknowledged her instructions before she turned her attention to scheduling a runabout to rendevous with the Roosevelt.
She stared, unseeing at the mound of paperwork crowding every inch of available space on the desk. Before the captain had left to walk with her Prophets, Kira had believed the seemingly antiquated station ran itself. That the captain's role had simply been one of fielding paperwork and playing the resident diplomat. It had seemed a reasonably simple position, until he had suddenly left. She had found herself drowning in the responsibilities of the office, although she was grateful for the legitimate excuse to avoid spending off duty time with Dax on the Promenade.
It seemed like a different life to her, when she was only the temporary commander of the station and they were all waiting for the captain to return. The death of Jadzia Dax had left a gaping hole in everyone on board Deep Space Nine, But then she had someone to lean on and someone to come home to. Looking back over those few short months, she couldn't help but envy the relationships that were blossoming all around her. Kira hadn't expected the world to stop turning just because of her broken heart, but had hoped in beginning that time would ease the devastating ache of her heart.
The irony of her present situation wasn't lost on her. She had always been alone, even in the Shakaar Cell. Living day to day; surviving by taking a life before yours was taken and lying awake at night, wondering if tomorrow was the end of your own suffering. After the Occupation, her life had changed once again and she had found herself assigned to the desolate space station discarded by the Cardassians as they hastily retreated. The station had been in better condition then she had imagined when the recently formed Bajoran Militia had first informed her of the assignment.
Looking back on the time she had spent on the station, Kira knew that she had been foolish to attempt to balk the Bajoran Militia. Her brown eyes gazed down on the self-contained world of Ops. New faces had taken the place of old and had become as familiar as her own. The door chime chirped, tearing her away from the memories of the past and sling shooting her back to the present. Unconsciously straightening herself in the chair, she cleared her throat. "Enter," she grimaced inwardly as Dax walked into the office.
"The Roosevelt has arrived and the O'Briens' will be shuttled on board within the hour." The Trill said as she crossed the open space and sat down in one of the available chairs. "How are you holding up?"
"As usual, I'm waiting to wake up." Kira said offhandedly as she stared over the Trill's shoulder.
"I understand, Nerys. With Bajor joining the Federation, it feels as though I'm living in a dreamworld of my own making." Dax smiled shyly, reminding Kira of a cherubic schoolgirl and not the seemingly ancient woman she had once served with. Stretching, Dax glanced at the emotionally exhausted Bajoran. "Dinner tonight at Vic's"
"Not tonight, I need to get caught up on all this paperwork or Starfleet will have my hide." Kira turned her attention back to the sprawling pile of PADDs on the desk.
Taking the hint, "alright." Dax said as she relectantly retreated from the office h a brief glance backwards as the glass doors slid closed behind her.
Kira sighed, releasing the breath she was unaware of holding as the doors closed. Her body slumped against the back of the chair, the natural curves of her body fitting snugly into the manufactured curves of the padded chair. Absently her eyes fell on the baseball resting on the edge of the desk. The familiar object, though simple and innocent, reopened the tender wounds of her heart. On the same day she had lost her commanding officer, she had lost the missing piece of her pagh.
Until he had told her he was returning to the others, she had been oblivious to the fact she had at one time been missing a piece of the puzzle that was her pagh. As she had plotted the return trip, Kira realized that he was as much apart of her and as necessary as air was. It had taken a resolve unbeknownst to her until the time to not pry him away and race back to the station with him in restraints if need be . Her respect for him as good, decent man he always was and her love for him had prevented her from following through with the plan. Once back on the station, Kira had felt guilty for encouraging and entertaining such selfish thoughts.
Her brown eyes widened slightly, subconsciously following the lead of the Bajoran wormhole. Her breath faltered as she watched spellbound at the regal beauty bursting suddenly to life against the fathomless backdrop of darkness and he millions of twinkling stars. Intoxicated, Kira watched as the glowing gold tendril swept out from the descending spiral cone of intertwining ribbons of crimson against the deep sapphire of the cone. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she watched a ship effortlessly glide from the wormhole. Silently, Kira sent a familiar fevered prayer against the odds that he was finally coming home to her. "I hope, I pray."