Editor's Note: AAAAAAH Juvia finally shows up and I couldn't be happier. Fairy Tail rapidly overtook my life for like five months last year and, well, Juvia's here as a result. Whoops -K.S.
Editor's Note II: As a reminder, reviews, bookmarks, or sharing to Tumblr/BlueSky are big helps! I'm also on BlueSky if you want to follow me! Alright, now onto the serious stuff. Enjoy! -K.S.
Sixteen Months Later.
Bajor has been liberated.
The price has been thousands dead in a war that has ground into a bitter stalemate, with neither side able to gain an advantage. The United Federation of Planets stands alone, locked into a war with the Cardassian Union, and the galaxy watches eagerly- vultures ready to prey over the carcass of the conquered. The Cardassian War has forced the Federation to return to the militarized mindset of the past, but the leaders of Starfleet staunchly refuse to be dragged back to those days.
Instead, using their technological superiority, the Federation has fought to a standstill in space, where neither side can truly gain ground, and life, for most of the galaxy, can continue as usual. Except for those on the front lines, and those on the staging sectors.
Over Bajor, the Cardassian space station formerly known as Terok Nor has been rechristened the Federation station Deep Space Nine. Although the fight for it was bitter, and the Cardassians destroyed much of the internal systems in their retreat, it has been revitalized with Federation technology and propped up with intergalactic commerce. From this station, Starfleet troops are ferried to and from the front lines, and Bajor can begin to find its footing on the galactic stage under the steward of the Federation.
With so many of its people dead, and so much of its infrastructure and land destroyed by the Cardassians' campaign of genocide, the Bajorans have found it difficult to recover. A provisional government has been set up to manage the process, but deep divisions among its members prevent it from achieving all that it could. However, they are a hardy people, defiant and strong to the ends of time, and they have begun to rebuild despite the struggle.
Onboard Deep Space Nine, many have found work as merchants, teachers, spiritual leaders, and station security. They intermingle with the various species of not only the Western Reaches but from all over the galaxy- all of whom have begun flocking to Deep Space Nine in droves. The Bajoran Wormhole, activated by Kirk's desperate measures, is the reason for this influx.
Known as the only stable wormhole in the galaxy, it allows for direct and near instant passage from the Alpha Quadrant to the Gamma Quadrant, one of the farthest and most remote reaches of known space. Merchants, privateers, and explorers of all kinds have made it their priority to explore the Gamma Quadrant. Under the watchful eye of Starfleet, who, in exchange for protection of Bajor, commands Deep Space Nine, these missions are carefully monitored- and opportunists of ill repute are dealt with accordingly.
In charge of not just this responsibility but also that of the Bajoran warfront is Admiral James Tiberius Kirk.
With the Enterprise damaged beyond repair during the battle, the ship's crew has been cast to the winds. Kirk, however, has found himself sentenced to remain where the worst tragedy in recent memory occurred. Promoted due to his valiant efforts to save the Archer and Bajor, not to mention years of exploits prior, he was placed in charge of Deep Space Nine as soon as the last Cardassian holdouts on Bajor were routed.
Still unable to move past the death of his friend, Admiral Kirk has found life behind a desk wholly inadequate to what he needs. A warm field, a farm to care for, something to keep his hands and his mind busy is what he yearns for, but paperwork and meetings have had to substitute- and a poor substitute it is. He missed his friends, his family aboard the Enterprise, and he missed the life he had before this one.
The galaxy was simpler when he was on the frontier.
Inside Deep Space Nine, on the promenade area, is a Bajoran spiritual temple. It is here that services are held, and those unacquainted with the Bajoran spiritual life can gain a glimpse into their theology. Services are held regularly, but in times of distress, Bajorans and Starfleet officers alike have often come to meditate and pray. Sometimes they do so with the aid of a Vedek, a spiritual leader, and sometimes they do so alone.
Today, like many days, James T. Kirk is alone.
On his knees, praying before a shrine to the Bajoran gods, known as The Prophets, seeking peace and resolution, Kirk remained in silence. His eyes closed, his breathing steady, the smell of incense filled the small space. The dull orange light of the candles flickered across the walls.
The Prophets, as Kirk later learned, were supposedly deities who resided in the very wormhole he discovered. They watched over and shepherded the Bajoran people, but they had been sealed away in the wormhole long ago, only able to communicate in visions or through unique crystalline artifacts, known as the Orbs of the Prophets. These 'Prophets' had communicated with him during the battle against Darmak's fleet, but had remained steadfastly silence since then.
So, although not a religious man, when the station was quiet enough Kirk would seek out the temple. His mother had once told him that 'We take solace in the things we cannot understand, so that we can survive the horrors which we cannot comprehend'. His inability to move on from that fateful day, and the lists of casualty reports that continued to roll in day after day, were what drove him to this solace now.
Today's prayers and meditations, like they so often did, went unanswered, and, when his knees began to ache, Kirk stood to leave.
The Vedek's voice nearly jolted him out of his bones.
"Any luck today, Emissary?" The kindly old man asked.
After regaining his wits, Kirk turned to Vedek Andev, "I'm afraid not, Vedek Andev."
Andev nodded, his lips thinly set. Although bald, the Vedek maintained a stubbly, grey, beard, although it was difficult to see in the low lights of the temple. His bright orange keffiyeh, which covered the top of his head and wrapped beneath his chin, and purple-red robes were always easy to see, however. His Bajoran earring dangled from his right ear, and he turned to allow Kirk to pass by.
"I apologize, as ever, Emissary, that the Prophets have maintained their silence. Even the Kais of Bajor," He said, referring to the high priests, elected spiritual leaders, "Have been unable to contact them."
"I'm sure they're busy," Kirk waved him off, "After all, if somebody was traipsing back and forth through my home I'd be pretty busy too."
Kirk was referring to the fact that the wormhole, or Celestial Temple, as the Bajorans called it, was considered to be the home of the Prophets.
Vedek Andev nodded again, his hands clasped together beneath his robes, "But they called you here to us for a reason, Emissary. Their silence must be equally purposeful."
"I'm sure it is, and I told you to stop calling me that, Vedek," Kirk said.
"Others may refer to you as they wish, but for discovering the Prophets and freeing Bajor from Cardassia, you will always be the Emissary to me," Andev said softly. He spoke so damn softly you could barely hear him in conversation, it was a wonder how he lead entire services.
"You should be grateful, Emissary," Andev added, "To choose an outsider to Bajor as their liberator is a bold decision indeed. The Prophets guided you to Bajor in our time of greatest need."
Kirk sighed, trying to contain his emotions, "It doesn't make the deaths easier, Vedek."
Andev put a hand to Kirk's shoulder, "No man should shoulder the weights you have been forced to carry. But if you keep yourself closed off, rejecting the world for your own sorrows, you will find yourself buried by your own demons before you realize it."
Advice, in his own way, given with the best of intentions. However, it only reminded Kirk more of the things that had transpired over the past several years, including the murder of his brother, Sam, by Klingon marauders. It took a great deal of restraint to not lash out at the Vedek, but Kirk knew his anger would be misplaced, and held it inside until it cooled from a flame into embers.
Kirk forced a smile, "Thank you, Vedek. I will try to keep that in mind."
They parted ways at the entrance, and Kirk began making his way down the promenade.
It was almost an anachronism on a place like Deep Space Nine. This entire section of the primary habitat ring had once been a slave labour camp, with only sparse shops for the Cardassian guards to gamble or drink at. There were still signs remaining- like hooks on the wall where chains could be attached, or security cameras that monitored every inch of ground -but they were mostly overlooked now. The hooks held lanterns for nighttime and the cameras were put to better use than putting down rebellions. Now, this section was a place of commerce, of opportunity, and of community.
Shops of all kinds, a bar and casino, a security office, living quarters, a temple, even a school dotted the promenade area. The lighting was no longer dark and grim, but bright and well illuminated. The temperature was regulated, janitorial staff regularly did sweep throughs each night, and even the occasional sight of Starfleet soldiers marching to their next assignment couldn't take away the fact that this once imposing, imperialistic station had a strangely comforting feel. The promenade, in many ways, was the heart and soul of the station, allowing many travelers and regulars alike to think of it as their home.
Admiral Kirk, however, does his best to avoid it.
Bajorans clamour to him as the Emissary, this messianic figure from their ancient texts, and he wasn't comfortable in the slightest with that role. He was never trying to be a hero. Maybe when he was a hotshot cadet, certainly, but after the loss of Captain Pike, the destruction of Vulcan, and some maturing, Kirk had generally begun thinking more analytically and critically about each and every situation he encountered.
His favourite way to live was by a quote Zefram Cochrane, the inventor of Earth's first warp engine, had once used in a commemoration speech, "Don't try and be a great man, just be a man, let history make its own judgements."
Of course, Kirk hadn't felt much like a man either in a long time and, indeed, he passed through the promenade a haunted specter.
"Admiral!" A voice called behind him.
Kirk slowed his steps but didn't stop.
"Admiral Kirk!" The voice called again, closer now.
Out of breath, Major Juvia Nerys finally caught up with him and fell into step with Kirk.
"Admiral, I saw you coming from the temple," She said, "How did it go today? Did you hear from the Prophets?"
Kirk shook his head, scratched the stubble on his chin, and put his hands back in his pockets.
"Not today, Major Nerys," He answered.
Her Bajoran earring, unique to her family, swung back and forth as she nodded emphatically. Her navy-blue Bajoran uniform was utilitarian and neat, but her striking red auburn hair always set her apart from the crowd. For all the Bajorans he had met, Kirk had never met one quite like Juvia Nerys. She was an intense, outspoken, brash member of the Bajoran Milita, formerly the Bajoran Resistance, and had become his first officer on the station and liaison to the Bajoran Provisional Government. Her career as a resistance fighter was as storied as it was bloodied and it had shaped her into the woman she was now. If they had met under different circumstances, they probably wouldn't have gotten along too well.
As it was, they stood in dynamic opposition to each other. Kirk's sullen, somber nature was at complete and total odds with her feisty attitude. It made them a fantastic team, especially since she never took to the same hero worship of him that other Bajorans did. She believed, passionately so, in the Prophets, and she believed he was their Emissary, but she never made a big deal about it. In her own words, she wasn't much for "hero worship".
"The heroes I believed in turned out to be collaborators, or died."
Kirk had smiled at that. Both for her frankness and the sardonic nature of the comment. She was no Spock, but she didn't need to be. She was just as good, and just as impressive.
"I understand. Well," She straightened herself up again, "I have the latest reports from the front line for you."
Kirk nodded, wordlessly permitting her to continue as they stepped into the turbolift together.
"Ops," Kirk ordered the computer.
The turbolift closed with a thunk and whirred away, taking them towards the command and operations center at the top of the station.
"Report from communications outpost A-R-Five-Five-Eight. Another Cardassian raid has been repelled with two more casualties. This puts the garrison at eight, down from the original thirty stationed there six months ago," Juvia read from the data padd, "A Federation strike on the Chintoka shipyards has been repelled again. According to Admiral Wesley, this recent defeat was cited as a primary reason for Chancellor L'Rell of the Klingon Empire to decline the latest offer of alliance."
Kirk shook his head.
"Damn Klingons," He muttered, "Those ridge-heads are too damn focused on worthless pursuits."
"Sir?"
"Nothing, carry on, Juvia."
Juvia cleared her throat and continued.
"Chancellor L'Rell also reports that she is still focused on uniting the disparate houses in the Empire. You also have a direct message from Empress Ael."
"Good news or bad?"
"Bad, sir. She once again rejected your request for a Romulan expeditionary fleet."
Kirk sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
"First the Cardassians steal the brightest boy Starfleet has ever seen, and then the Klingons murder my brother! Forget the Klingons and the Romulans both, then. If the rest of the galaxy were worth even the slightest bit of space dust they'd be out here with us corralling the Cardassians back to the dark ages!"
Kirk slammed his fist on the guard rail of the turbolift, "Computer, halt turbolift," He said, through gritted teeth. Despite the throbbing pain, he kept the fist clenched and slammed it down again.
"How many lives does the Federation have to give before the universe starts caring, Major?" Kirk demanded, but continued before she could answer, "We didn't want this war, we didn't start this war. Gul Darmak has massacred seven Federation colonies since it started! He's sent Cardassian raids against both Romulan and Klingon trade routes too, but they don't do a damn thing!"
Kirk spread his arms wide, anger pervasive to his every word, "So long as the Federation reaps what it sows! We've committed over half of Starfleet just to contain the Cardies, and all we get is a bloody stalemate that bleeds the Federation dry."
He cut himself short before he could continue. His anger spent; Kirk slumped against the side of the turbolift. The anger, the yelling at someone who didn't even deserve it, reminded him too much of his stepfather. Kirk was tired of reading the reports, seeing the constant images of death, being surrounded by an apathetic universe. The truth was that James Kirk had tried to be a good man, and all he'd gotten was death and pain in return.
Juvia stayed silent, not even breathing. She had never been the best at handling emotions, her own or those of others, and James Kirk had perhaps been the hardest test of that. Because she knew how he felt, and she had seen it happen dozens of times when she was growing up. Good men exhausted by trying to care, trying to make things better, only to be beaten and broken down when they realized, day after day, life was short, hard, and not forgiving to those with too much empathy.
It was difficult to see the Emissary this way, and so she stood still. Waiting for him to recover. She had seen what a better man he could be; he'd shared in her joys and her sorrows as much as she had in his. But even the strongest of men could be beaten down by the tremors of war.
And he did, eventually standing up again and smoothing out his white and grey uniform.
"Proceed, computer."
The turbolift continued again.
"Admiral," Juvia broke the terse silence, "I understand your pain. I…" She searched for the words a moment, her eyes looking anywhere but towards Kirk, "I am no more aware of why the Cardassians occupied our world for thirty years than you are why nobody else seems to care. But, sooner or later, if you do not open yourself up more constructively, instead of holding all of this pain inside, your pagh," She continued, using the Bajoran word for 'soul', "Will suffer all the more for it."
They rode the rest of the way in silence, but Kirk, despite his stoney expression, was considering her words carefully.