The conduit burst open with smoke and sparks, filling the small engineering tunnel in a matter of seconds. The junior engineers and technicians standing outside of the crawlspace could only clutch their tools and padds, watching and listening to a dozen different grunts and admonishments from the man trapped inside. The clanging of spare parts and the definitive sound of a boot to the wall could be heard as well.
The man inside clambered out, coughing and spluttering. His black hair was tousseled into a mess, and his never-quite-clean white and grey uniform was covered in grease smudges and torn from the cramped conditions. Wordlessly, he grabbed a self-sealing stembolt from one ensign and a flux coupler and dove back into the crawlspace.
Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott, more affectionately known as 'Scotty' to his friends, was already an engineering legend even as he just barely began to cut into middle age. Adding to his list of accomplishments was his new duty: Keeping Deep Space Nine functioning as well as liveable. A replicator's faulty ration tube was the latest culprit in a series of crimes all across the station, but Scotty was, as ever, on the case.
Working fast, Scotty was able to shut off the smoke and seal the conduit back up. He smacked the self-sealing stembolt into place on the ration tube and soldered it on. Once affixed, the veteran engineer tested the system once more.
Unlike last time, the conduit did not explode in smokes and sparks. All systems read clear, and he slowly scooched himself back out of the space. Handing his tools back to the junior engineers, he wiped his hands and sighed with satisfaction.
"And that, ladies and lassies," He said, his Scottish brogue still as strong as ever despite years away from Earth, "Is how you fix a Cardassian food replicator. Now, someone go tell Ambassador Faust that she should be able to eat without fear again."
An ensign nodded and rushed off; the others packed up their tools. Scotty replaced the cover to the crawlspace.
"Aye, a fine bit of engineering hell this is. Those Cardies wrecked half the systems on this place when they retreated, and those they didn't ended up failing anyways," He remarked to no one in particular, "We'll get this station up to standard eventually now, won't we?"
The others murmured their agreements.
The communications whistle sounded off from a nearby communications system built into the wall.
"Scott here," The chief engineer answered.
"This is Security Chief Silas," The gravelly voice rumbled out from the other end, "I just received an alarm from your sector. What is going on down there?"
Scott sighed and shook his head, "Nothing, Silas, I was just finishing a repair. I keep tellin ya laddy, the system alerts go haywire anytime I so much as adjust the thermostat in this place."
The line went nearly silent, save for the grumbling of Silas on the other end.
"Very well, report catalogued."
The communication cut off abruptly and Scotty chuffed to himself.
"Bloody Sulibans," He muttered to himself before heading out of the maintenance hallway and onto the Promenade proper.
It was alive, as ever, with activity. This late in the evening was when the Promenade truly came alive, where people flocked to and fro with dates, colleagues, or simply took in the majesty of the diversity of it all. Many headed straight for the Ferengi bar, a Promenade staple for fifteen years, but others enjoyed the other shops as well.
Scotty, toolcase in hand and grease smudges on his cheek, smoothed out his dapper moustache and strutted his way down. An eligible bachelor, his first love had always been his ships, and he'd never been able to make anything last long enough to count. Still, that could all change at any time- wink of an eye, charming smile, brush of a hand maybe!
Unfortunately, his self-absorbed swagger went unnoticed by everyone. Almost.
A pair of figures on the second level of the Promenade leaned idly on the safety rail, watching what, from their perspective, appeared to be the goofiest strut in the galaxy from history's greatest engineer. They chose to stay silent until he was right underneath them.
"Chief!" Juvia called out.
Scotty briefly paused his walk, looking around for the source of the voice in the crowd. Another call of his name brought his attention to the two ladies above him. He gave them a friendly smile and a wave.
"How do you do, lassies?"
"We're good, Chief. You going anywhere?" Delphine, the Trill woman, asked, that ever-present playful smile on her lips.
He appeared to be flummoxed by the question for a moment, looking down to his toolcase and then the nearby map pillar.
"Well, I'd hate to spoil the company of two lovely young ladies," He called back to them, the smoothness in his voice revealing his confusion to merely be an act.
"Yah, staff meeting," Juvia answered him, a friendly laugh as Scotty deflated ever so slightly, "But we'd be happy to have you escort us there."
That perked him right back up.
"I'll meet you at the turbolift!" He said, speedwalking towards the turbolift as the pair shared a laugh together.
"Chief medical officer on the frontier's furthest space station certainly has its perks," Delphine joked.
"With ten lifetimes behind you, I'd hardly think this is the most exciting thing you've done," Juvia said with disbelief.
Delphine's eyes sparkled with mischief, "It gets closer to number one every day, Major."
Juvia, Delphine, and Scotty walked into the conference room, both women arm in arm on the side of the true gentlemen, and made their way to their seats. The conference room, though lit well thanks to Starfleet regulations, is the usual mix of blacks, greys, and browns that permeate the colour scheme of the rest of the station. The long table, chairs to both sides, was currently occupied by the other commanding members of the station.
Admiral James T. Kirk, his white Starfleet uniform, with grey sleeves, pressed and well-fitting, sat at the head of the table. Silas, the grouchy, middle-aged Suliban chief of security who had been here more years than he cared to count, sat to one side. Scotty sat down closest to Kirk, Juvia next to him, and Delphine sidled up next to Silas, who bristled at her approach. Admittedly, he did that for everyone.
"Good to see you all were able to make it," Kirk said, nodding towards Scotty, the oldest friend he had on Deep Space Nine, "Chief, I presume the modifications and repair are still on schedule?"
"Ah, Capt- I mean, Admiral," Scotty still wasn't used to it after all these years, "She's purring like a Starfleet ship now, but her claws could use with a bit of work."
Translation: It's never on schedule, but at least it feels closer to home.
"Good to hear it, Scotty," Kirk patted him on the arm, turning to Silas, "Constable Silas, I read a report that there was some trouble with the recent Ferengi delegation to Bajor?"
Silas made a sound that approximated an amused growl.
"Indeed. At first I assume it was merely due to the involvement of our resident Ferengi entrepreneur, Zyggy, but as I looked deeper I saw it was actually coming from their leader, the Grand Nagus."
"The Grand Nagus was involved in this trip?" Kirk asked, "Normally he makes a point to visit the station."
The Suliban nodded his head, "Indeed. I was just as surprised as you were, Admiral, and I don't. Like. Surprises," He punctuated each word, "The Grand Nagus was trying to minimize his appearance, if you can believe that, but when the Bajorans asked for an extension to the previous loan he apparently became so livid that he revealed himself."
Juvia scoffed, "Typical Ferengi. They're capitalistic pigs and nothing else."
"Don't forget chauvinistic opportunists, Major," Kirk added.
"That too."
"Yes, well," Silas said, bringing the conversation back to focus, "In any case, the Grand Nagus put quite a damper on negotiations. It's unlikely to derail the talks completely, of course, you know how the Ferengi are. The Bajorans are very upset about it however."
"Thank you, Constable, we'll have to follow up on that if there's any further issues."
Silas harumphed his agreement and folded his hands on the table.
"In the meantime," Kirk continued, "I received word from Starfleet Command that we're going to have some visitors today at five hundred hours. Their primary mission is to journey to the other side of the wormhole, but they'll be stopping off here briefly for supplies."
"The wormhole?" Delphine asked, her voice twinged with noticeable worry, "What do they want to go through it for?"
"Officially, it's just to do some routine scans. Unofficially," Kirk sucked in a breath, "It's to make formal contact with the Dominion."
The tension in the room immediately went up a notch. The officers exchanged looks before turning back to Kirk, who was avoiding their eyes by staring at the lattices in the metal table.
"They want to talk to the Dominion? After they massacred the New Bajor colony?" Juvia spoke up first.
"Jim," Delphine followed, "You can't be serious."
Kirk nodded, looking back up, "I am," He said, biting the inside of his lip, "Starfleet Command considers the Dominion's martial prowess more important right now than the reports we sent back about how they handle things on their side of the wormhole."
Scotty shook his head, "It's a right shame to be seeing them act this way."
"I know, Scotty, and I understand the frustrations and concerns everyone else here must share," Kirk said, hopefully silencing any further debate, "But between our war with the Cardassians and the renewed aggression from the Romulans and the Tholians, we're stretched too far thin as it is. The Federation Council isn't keen to lift the restrictions on militarization either."
The gathered officers understood what he meant, but Scotty and Kirk understood it best of all. Years of militarization had depleted the Federation economy and, after the skirmish at Yorktown had been successfully dealt with by the Enterprise crew, the galaxy had quieted down immensely. The Klingons, Romulans, and Tholians were always an issue, but not one that required the military strength the Federation had built in preparation for Nero and the Klingon War. Restrictions on size and design had been wildly successful at balancing out the budget and returning Starfleet to its natural state of exploration and mutual defense. The Cardassian War had tipped the scales out of balance once more.
"I will of course re-express our concerns to the captain of the ship and let them know they need to be wary when it comes to the Dominion. Our experience with the Karemma and that monitoring station will be invaluable information for them to have. Anything else?"
Nobody spoke up, and Kirk declared the meeting adjourned.