Station log, Colonel Kira Nerys reporting. Stardate 53045.1. It has been almost four months since the end of the Dominion War, and the ascension of Captain Sisko to join the Prophets. The last battle between good and evil, as written in our scriptures, has been fought, and good has won. The time following the last battle we call the Eternal Golden Age. But as I stand here looking at the latest in an endless series of aid transports bound for Cardassia, I cannot help but doubt the existence of any "golden age," eternal or otherwise. In retaliation for their betrayal during the final days of the Dominion War, the Founders ordered that the Cardassian people be killed to the point of extinction. Sadly, they almost succeeded at that task. Most of Cardassia Prime is now a radioactive wasteland. The planet's water table has been destroyed. The few hundred thousand Cardassians left alive stubbornly refuse to abandon their planet.

Closer to home, Ezri Dax was promoted to full captain of the Defiant. Miles O'Brien is now first officer, and Dr. Bashir has emigrated to Cardassia to aid in the relief efforts. We still have no constable, which means that there is currently no one to keep a handle on Quark. Petty crime throughout the station is therefore running rampant right now. I myself have become increasingly immobile here in the station manager's office. Something around here needs to change. But the more things change, the more they stay the same…

Colonel Kira stepped out of the station manager's office. She looked down over the entirety of Ops. Most of the stations were unoccupied owing to the late time. Kira descended the stairs and walked over to Dax.

"Captain, do you have any idea where our new engineer is?"

"His transport just dropped out of warp. I have it slated for docking in Bay Fifteen. Currently they are in holding pattern waiting for the Koheerian transport to clear."

"I'm still waiting for his personnel record to be sent over by Starfleet. It should have arrived on the last long-range burst from Earth five days ago. There is no sign of it."

"Well, soon enough he'll be here to give it to you himself." The computer beeped. "And Bay Fifteen has just been vacated."

"Very good. I'll be waiting in my office."

Returning to the station manager's office, Kira looked out the window again, thought about continuing the station log entry. But before she could do so, the com beeped.

"Kira here."

"Colonel Kira, this is Prylar Aumniel Atlia."

"Ah, yes." Prylar Aumniel led the daily prayers in the station's Bajoran temple. "What can I do for you?"

"Turn on the Bajoran planetary newscast, now."

Kira touched a few buttons, brought up the transmission. She was shocked. There had been a terrorist bombing in the Bajoran Capital. Dozens dead, hundreds more injured. No identification as yet as to who was responsible.

"Two of my friends from the congregation were killed in the bombing."

"I'm… very sorry to hear that."

Kira sat there for a long moment, trying to process the tragedy. Then her door beeped.

"I'm afraid I have to go. Station business. I'll see you tomorrow at 11:30 for prayers."

"I understand. Doyy'ce tetramana."

"Tra oyshie na doyice." Kira cut the transmission. "Enter!"

The doors opened, and a man entered. He was human. Small, slight, unassuming. He wore a Starfleet uniform of the grade of lieutenant. He offered her a datapad.

"Lieutenant Daniels, reporting for duty. I'm sorry if I was delayed."

"Oh, no. You're fine." Kira looked over Daniels' service record. It was surprisingly short. "According to this, this is your first posting out of the Academy. Picked a hell of a place to go."

"I asked to come here specifically. Deep Space Nine was always important to me. I majored in applied starship engineering, and I understand you needed a chief engineer. Well, I'm here and ready to help."

"I'm afraid that there isn't much for you to do right now. Have you heard about the bombing on Bajor?"

"I listened to the news reports on the way here. A grave tragedy."

"To say the least. Ask Captain Dax to arrange you quarters. I'm still trying to process the events. Two people I knew were killed."

"I'm very sorry to hear that."

AN: And so it begins!