^Well...it's not like we're on deadline. We can wait. 
The New Dax - Cooperative Writing DISCUSSION
- Thread starter TiberiusMaximus
- Start date
Thanks for the update, ares. I have too much stuff going on right now to take over, don't worry about it. My ep will probably take a long time to write too, if I even get it written. Do you have a lot more than what you've shown us so far? If so I wouldn't mind seeing the story so far but it's your call.
Won't be on the forum as much for a while, just a heads up.
Won't be on the forum as much for a while, just a heads up.
Hmm...well, I don't have anything on this, TM...but I do have an entry for the November Challenge, if you'd like to read up on that, to keep you satisfied....
It's "Serenety Prayer", BTW.
(Just trying to get as much feedback as possible....)
It's "Serenety Prayer", BTW.
(Just trying to get as much feedback as possible....)
Thanks for the update, ares. I have too much stuff going on right now to take over, don't worry about it. My ep will probably take a long time to write too, if I even get it written. Do you have a lot more than what you've shown us so far? If so I wouldn't mind seeing the story so far but it's your call.
Won't be on the forum as much for a while, just a heads up.
actually no, i have a few scenes but i'm mostly just toying with ideas. so i have no solid continuation. but when i have the time i'll assemble the story and post it here like last time. gonna take up a few posts but whatever.
i gotta got to school now, i have a massive chemistry test ahead of me....
Sounds good, Ares. I can't wait to see what you have.
I can't wait to see what you have.
Hey, guys. Haven't heard from either of you in a while. What's going on? Where are we in terms of writing?
I'm waiting on ares...but in the meantime, I'm writing up a couple tales of my own.
One's the Bashir-as-Bond tale, one has
And a third...
One's the Bashir-as-Bond tale, one has
Captain Ezri Dax on trial!
And a third...
Our Ezri--still a Counselor on DS9--on a mission alongside her Mirror Universe double....
Well, between school and work i really don't have time for much more than sleep. Its been like this for quite a few weeks now. If you guys want to take over and finish the rest of the story you're free to do so. i wont be able to do it anytime soon. Besides i'm waiting for confirmation on my SAF training as well...
Rushbo: On trial? What the hell did she do? And MU Ezri...
Rushbo: On trial? What the hell did she do? And MU Ezri...
That's ok, Ares. Why don't you post what you have, even if it's not much and I'll take a look at it.
Not to spoil everything (anything, to be frank), but--from the very first scene:
“Captain Ezri Dax,” Bacco said, “You stand before this hearing…accused of the following charges: First, of willful and knowing violation of the Starfleet Rules of Engagement, and Interstellar Law; Second, of willful and knowing breach of the peace between they Typhon Pact and the Khitomer Alliance; Third, of conduct unbecoming of a Starfleet Officer; Fourth, of conducting an unauthorized attack upon an non-hostile vessel of a foreign power, destroying the vessel in question; and Fifth…” the president paused for a moment, and resumed, “Of the unauthorized destruction of civilian lives thereof. How do you plead?”
And MU Ezri...
Absolutely.
As someone said in one of the "sexiest Trek character" threads, both Mirror Ezri and Prime Ezri are immensely sexy--just in different ways.
Good God, Rushbo. What did you do to that poor woman?
Tiberius:
Tiberius:
Quark's Bar
Federation Space station Deep Space Nine, Bajor system
2412, Terran (old) calendar
It’s a well known fact that Orions come from a planet with higher than average gravity, making their bones and muscles significantly denser than the average humanoid. It’s usually best to avoid fighting Orions hand-to-hand unless you have a clear advantage. Total pigheadedness and suicidal tendencies might be a valid tactic short term. But in the long run, it was far from an advantage, as Perjon Dax soon realized.
Quark knew very well what was about to happen, Dax could tell. From the moment Perjon looked up at the bartender, the Ferengi knew what Perjon intended. At first, his suicidal tendencies actually seemed to be a benefit – evidently the Klingons underestimated the damage an angry Trill can do.
“She told you to let go of ‘er.” Dax slurred on purpose, making the Klingon think he was significantly more intoxicated than he really was.
“This does not concern you, Dax.” Galrisan rumbled from his seat. The Klingon glared at Perjon but said nothing, his grip on the Dabo girl’s arm as tight as ever. Perjon smiled and nodded.
“You know what? You’re right. None of my business. I think I’ll sit down.” He replied cheerily.
“That would be wise, Trill.” The Klingon spat after him.
Perjon grinned wider and turned to leave. Well, at least he pretended to.
Pivoting on his heel, he threw his entire body into punching the nearest Klingon directly in the face, and then slammed his elbow into the other Klingon’s throat. Both men went down quickly, but they didn’t stay down, and drew brandished d’ktaghs for the next round.
Galrisan sighed and drained the last of his drink as Perjon knocked the blade from one Klingon’s hand and swung at the other. For a moment, Perjon feared the massive Orion would join in, but he seemed content to watch.
Somehow, it seemed like there were more Klingons than there used to be. Perjon mused on this as a punch connected with his jaw and he fell against a table, lashing out reflexively with his legs and connecting with something that grunted savagely.
He could have won the fight right then and there, if Galrisan hadn’t got bored of watching.
“That’s enough!” The Orion crime boss boomed, shoving an angry Klingon away from Perjon. “I have business to conduct!”
It could have been over, but Dax had never known when to quit. It wasn’t until his fist connected with the Orion’s face of granite that he knew he was in trouble.
“Well that was stupid.” Quark chimed helpfully from behind the bar as Perjon had the wind knocked out of him.
Holding Cell A, 0900 hours, station time.
“Get up! All of you!” The security guard barked. In spite of his size, the man could scare a Klingon to silence.
Wielding a phaser rifle, the Saurian positioned himself in the middle of the room. There were five more holding cells, all filled with the troublemakers from the day before yesterday. Dax slowly sat up holding his abdomen. His cellmate, an Orion male, had been the one who gave him the final knockout and the chief of security had found it interesting to put them in the same holding cell. Thankfully Galrisan was a reasonable man when sober, and he hadn’t finished the job he so gladly began two days earlier.
It took Perjon a few seconds to gather himself as the guard walked past every single holding cell. Finally giving up, he walked to his office for a padd.
Returning to the brig now wielding a padd instead of a phaser rifle, he asked, “Which one of you scumbags is Lieutenant Commander Perjon Dax?”
Perjon slowly stood up, still holding his right hand over his aching abdomen. Barely able to stand after the beating he received from the massive Orion, he approached the barely visible force field. “I am Perjon Dax! But I am no Commander!” he shouted to the guard.
The security guard slowly approached him. “Ah, I should have known. The wise guy.” He laughed. “You’re being released into your friend’s custody. Step away from the force field.”
Perjon complied, a few seconds later, after a nod from the Saurian chief of security, a young human ensign dropped the force fields. It flashed brightly before fading from existence and Perjon stepped through.
“I was under the impression that the fight last night would keep me in that cell for two more days. What changed?” he asked as they left the brig. Fad'gh didn't deem it worthwhile to reply.
Outside, in the security chief's office, a man was sitting in the chief’s chair. A Vulcan dressed in civvies. Black pants, a yellow shirt and a purple vest. Obviously he had bought his attire on the station. It was, unique...for a lack of a better way of describing it. Ever since the tailor and ex-spy Garak had left the station, fashion aboard DS9 had dropped to an all time low.
The man appeared to be someone Chief Fad’gh respected greatly, because he bowed his head slowly and put his right hand to his chest, in the traditional Saurian salute. The Vulcan returned it, and after a quick nod, Chief Fad’gh left.
The Vulcan looked up at Perjon. Almost like he was trying to probe his mind. And judging from the look, he was minutes away from being able to. “Perjon Dax. Formerly of the USS Ballona. Valedictorian of you class at Starfleet Academy, rank of Lieutenant Commander, advanced tactical training and covert ops, expert in Klingon martial arts and Suus Mahna.” He said, reading from the padd in his hand. “A holding cell. -- Not exactly the place I hoped to find a man like you. Nonetheless, here you are.”
“And you are?” Dax inquired.
“I’m Captain Valom. I’m here to give you a job.” He replied with a very un-Vulcan smile.
Dax shook his head. He didn’t seem to care very much. “If you know so much about me, you should also know that I resigned eleven ago. I’m done with Starfleet.“ he said. “If there nothing else, I miss my holding cell.” He rose to leave.
“Just like that?” Valon asked, almost surprised. He had of course read Dax’s file, but not in a million years did he expect this type of treatment. “You don’t even want to know what the job is?”
“No. As I said, I'm done with Starfleet. What I need, they can’t provide.” Dax said flatly. His arms crossed across his chest. Desperately trying to hide the pain in his abdomen his cellmate had caused two days earlier.
"Vengeance?"
"Something like that, yes." Dax replied. Clearly showing his annoyance the fact that he was forced to admit it.
“I see.” Valon shook his head. “Perhaps you’re not the man I was looking for... – Oh, and in case, by some godsend miracle, you turn into the man I was looking for. The Trafalgar is docked at Pylon 2 for another 12 hours.”
He stood up and headed for the door. He halted in the doorway. “My father told me I should look at your file. And I did. Reading it, I was pleasantly surprised. I saw Curzon Dax, the diplomat who negotiated the Khitomer accords. Jadzia Dax, of the house of Martok and a Dominion war veteran. Ezri Dax, one of the officers who stopped the Borg invasion...and, incidentally, someone who was a dear friend of mine."
Dax made sure to show no reaction. He had no memory of the Vulcan...but on the other hand, he wouldn't be surprised if the man was telling the truth.
The Vulcan then turned to lock eyes with Dax. And then...his voice seemed to turn...bitter. "And then you. Do you know what I see when I look at you?"
Dax met his gaze, saying nothing.
"All I see...is a drunken, sorry excuse of a Starfleet officer, who can’t do anything but feel sorry for himself. Your ship was destroyed, yes. Your friends died, along with four hundred other officers. It was tragic. But that's no excuse to let you life and career go down the drain. That's a reason to make something of your life since you were lucky enough to survive."
He shook his head in what looked like disgust. "The great Dax. You don’t deserve the Dax symbiont. The Symbiosis Commission made a grave error by giving approving you for joining… What a waste... “
Those were Captain Valon’s last words before he disappeared into the crowd outside the security office.
***
"Are you still here?" Fad'gh asked returning from his rounds on the promenade an hour later. Dax was still sitting in the office contemplating what Valon had said. Maybe he's right, he though. I am a waste. And if I am. What do I do about it?
"Hey! Are you deaf or something? You're free to go. Get out of my office if you don't want to return to the cell!" the chief barked. Dax slowly stood up and headed for the door.
He turned halfway out the door. "You know Chief, I liked you predecessor better. Have a good day. If it’s possible for you, that is." he said and left leaving Fad'gh shout something untranslatable after him.
***
“Since when do you tolerate such unsavory characters in this fine establishment?” Perjon quipped as he took a seat once again in Quark’s. Carefully avoiding the chair that was Galrisan’s favourite.
Grinning, Quark replied, “Ever since I laid eyes on Jadzia.” He poured Dax a drink.
“Auch…” Dax grimaced. “That hurts, Quark, it really does.”
“Well…” Quark leaned closer. “You did start the fight.”
Dax smiled wryly in reponse, “I suppose…But they had it coming.”
“True,” He nodded. “But who cares? Everyone gets what’s coming eventually.”
“So you don’t mind customers pushing the Dabo girls around?”
“She’ll be adequately compensated. Besides, he hadn’t really done anything to her yet.”
“Once a Ferengi…” Dax started.
Quark cracked a wide smile. One that made his massive ears seem even bigger. “I know, always…rich.”
Dax shook his head in disappointment “You know, that’s not exactly what I was going to say.”
Quark smiled. “So, I heard an interesting rumor.”
“Heard or started?” Dax asked. Truly unsure about the answer. The Ferengi had an interesting track record. Interesting meaning, borderline criminal. But since neither Odo nor Lieutenant Ro could prove it, he remained the innocent businessman he was known to be.
“You wound me, Dax. I heard you turned down a job. Apparently Captain Valom thinks you’re a good-for-nothing, lazy brawler with nothing to lose.”
“I am a good-for-nothing lazy brawler with nothing to lose.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Dax I used to know.”
“Well, I’m not as pretty as the Dax you used to know either.”
“True.”
“I don’t know, maybe I should try harder.”
“Where’s the fun in that when you can come here and get beaten half to death? I thought you were a masochist.”
“Never was, never will be.”
“Cynic?”
“Definitely.”
“You hate this place, don’t you?” Quark asked, pouring him another drink.
“With a passion.”
“Then what are you still doing here? Your ship leaves in about seven hours.”
Dax smiled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“What day?”
“Quark encouraging me to go crawling back to Starfleet.”
“I’m not. You always do whatever you want anyways. Sometimes you just don’t know what it is you do want. Until I hit you in the face with it.”
Perjon sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You know as much as I hate to admit it…”
“I’m right.” Quark interrupted.
“You’re right.”
“I’m always right. See you around, Dax.”
“Maybe, maybe not. You’re the best, Quark.”
“I try.” He grinned
“Goodbye, scoundrel.”
“Goodbye, masochist.”
***
USS Trafalgar
Captains ready room, Deck 1
The door chime rang, jolting Captain Valon from his thoughts. “Come.” He called out as Lieutenant Donovan stepped in. The engineering noncom turned acting XO remained at attention, something that Valon hated. He made a swooshing gesture for him to loosen up.
“You sent for me, sir?” Donovan asked. Complying with what he considered permission to stand at ease.
“Yes, I did. How’s the resupply going? We need to be in orbit of Cardassia Prime in 14 hours. We’re being sent out again. Once we drop off the parts for the DaVinci, we’ll be heading out to the border. And I don’t want hear it, Lieutenant. I know precisely how much you despise border patrol. But this time it will be different.”
“Aye sir.” Donovan smiled. “If I may ask, sir. – How’s the hunt going?”
“Hunt? – Oh, you mean Dax. I found him in holding cell. He wasn’t very… How should I put it? Optimistic about returning to Starfleet.”
Donovan looked quizzical. “Returning, sir? I wasn’t aware that he left in the first place. – Ah, you didn’t tell him about the status of his resignation, did you? Or the arrest warrant for that matter.”
“No. I didn’t want to threaten him. If he reconsiders, he’ll be here in…” He looked at his computer. “six hours. If not, he’s not the man I’m looking for and don’t want him as my XO anyway. So no harm done. Starfleet security can take him on the desertion charge if they want to.”
“So how was he? Should I worry if he’s going to bash my head in if he has a bad day? With all due respect, sir. He doesn’t seem so stable.” Donovan pointed out.
Valon shook his head. “I'm not saying he's the model officer. Not after the Ballona, at least. But if he’s half the officer Ezri was, I need him.” He said. “I don’t know if he was just beaten and hung-over or plain indifferent, but he didn’t recognize me. I just hope there still some Dax in him after everything he’s been through.”
Donavan noticed the sad look on Valon’s face. “You miss her, don’t you?”
Valon paused for a moment, and nodded. “Yes...I do. Very much." He looked off, the face of an old, dear friend filling his mind. When he spoke, it wasn't to Donovan, as much as to himself.
"I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Ezri. The Borg destroyed Shi’Kahr...and there was nothing I could do. I thought my life was over. Quite frankly--I wanted to die. Everyone I ever cared about was dead. Ezri Dax...she taught me to live again."
He sighed. "You know...I handed in my resignation three times. She denied every single one. When I sent her my fourth, she called me into her ready room. She took the padd and approved it. Just like that, without a word. Then, when I turned to leave, she stopped me. She said that I had a chance to do something with my life. To do some good. To honor everyone who had lost their lives, instead of letting survivor’s guilt take over."
He shrugged. "I just brushed it off as an attempt to make me feel guilty about leaving my shipmates in a time like that. But...I’ll never forget the look on her face. That’s when I knew I had made a mistake. She didn’t yell at me, she didn’t say I was wrong by leaving. But that look she gave me, I will remember for the rest of my life. Like… I don’t know how to describe it. Like endless disappointment...”
“Yes, she had a notorious way of looking at people. She could make a Klingon sink into the floor, just by looking at them. I heard about that that. Never met her myself, though. Unfortunately... – I take it you didn’t resign then?”
“No, I didn’t. I transferred to command track instead. After three years of service aboard the Aventine, she recommended me for the captaincy of the Hood.”
“So you’re trying to help him because you went through something similar? No offense captain, noble as it is, but you don’t owe this man anything. The moment Ezri Dax died, the slate turned blank again. Once the host dies and the symbiont is put into the next one, there are no debts, no commitments and no promises. It’s Trill tradition.”
“Yes,” Valon nodded “you’re absolutely right. I don’t owe Perjon anything. I owe it to Ezri.”
That statement was clear. Nonetheless, Donovan wouldn’t let it go. “Captain, you know that I consider you a man of great integrity and honor. But if you are trying to repay a debt by bringing an unstable man aboard to serve as you XO, with all due respect, that’s not honorable, that just plain stupid. And as your XO, albeit merely temporary, I must object. There must be someone else.”
“Like you?” Valon shot back. Quite a bit sharper than he originally intended.
Donovan shook his head, looked down at Valon and said, “The thought had crossed my mind, but there is no chance Starfleet command is going to permit that. Not after Melcor IV… I’m not regretting anything, scrapping the mission was the right thing to do. I don’t mind covert ops but when civilians are in the line of fire…”
Valon raised his hand to silence Donovan. “Yes, I heard all that already, Lieutenant. And just to clarify, I did try and I was stonewalled.” He said.
“So you will reconsider Commander Dax?” Donovan asked. Sounding almost like he was afraid of the answer.
“No. That is all. Contact me if and when he’s aboard. Dismissed.” Valon said flatly. Since the usual permission of free speech had obviously been revoked. Donovan left.
Federation Space station Deep Space Nine, Bajor system
2412, Terran (old) calendar
It’s a well known fact that Orions come from a planet with higher than average gravity, making their bones and muscles significantly denser than the average humanoid. It’s usually best to avoid fighting Orions hand-to-hand unless you have a clear advantage. Total pigheadedness and suicidal tendencies might be a valid tactic short term. But in the long run, it was far from an advantage, as Perjon Dax soon realized.
Quark knew very well what was about to happen, Dax could tell. From the moment Perjon looked up at the bartender, the Ferengi knew what Perjon intended. At first, his suicidal tendencies actually seemed to be a benefit – evidently the Klingons underestimated the damage an angry Trill can do.
“She told you to let go of ‘er.” Dax slurred on purpose, making the Klingon think he was significantly more intoxicated than he really was.
“This does not concern you, Dax.” Galrisan rumbled from his seat. The Klingon glared at Perjon but said nothing, his grip on the Dabo girl’s arm as tight as ever. Perjon smiled and nodded.
“You know what? You’re right. None of my business. I think I’ll sit down.” He replied cheerily.
“That would be wise, Trill.” The Klingon spat after him.
Perjon grinned wider and turned to leave. Well, at least he pretended to.
Pivoting on his heel, he threw his entire body into punching the nearest Klingon directly in the face, and then slammed his elbow into the other Klingon’s throat. Both men went down quickly, but they didn’t stay down, and drew brandished d’ktaghs for the next round.
Galrisan sighed and drained the last of his drink as Perjon knocked the blade from one Klingon’s hand and swung at the other. For a moment, Perjon feared the massive Orion would join in, but he seemed content to watch.
Somehow, it seemed like there were more Klingons than there used to be. Perjon mused on this as a punch connected with his jaw and he fell against a table, lashing out reflexively with his legs and connecting with something that grunted savagely.
He could have won the fight right then and there, if Galrisan hadn’t got bored of watching.
“That’s enough!” The Orion crime boss boomed, shoving an angry Klingon away from Perjon. “I have business to conduct!”
It could have been over, but Dax had never known when to quit. It wasn’t until his fist connected with the Orion’s face of granite that he knew he was in trouble.
“Well that was stupid.” Quark chimed helpfully from behind the bar as Perjon had the wind knocked out of him.
Holding Cell A, 0900 hours, station time.
“Get up! All of you!” The security guard barked. In spite of his size, the man could scare a Klingon to silence.
Wielding a phaser rifle, the Saurian positioned himself in the middle of the room. There were five more holding cells, all filled with the troublemakers from the day before yesterday. Dax slowly sat up holding his abdomen. His cellmate, an Orion male, had been the one who gave him the final knockout and the chief of security had found it interesting to put them in the same holding cell. Thankfully Galrisan was a reasonable man when sober, and he hadn’t finished the job he so gladly began two days earlier.
It took Perjon a few seconds to gather himself as the guard walked past every single holding cell. Finally giving up, he walked to his office for a padd.
Returning to the brig now wielding a padd instead of a phaser rifle, he asked, “Which one of you scumbags is Lieutenant Commander Perjon Dax?”
Perjon slowly stood up, still holding his right hand over his aching abdomen. Barely able to stand after the beating he received from the massive Orion, he approached the barely visible force field. “I am Perjon Dax! But I am no Commander!” he shouted to the guard.
The security guard slowly approached him. “Ah, I should have known. The wise guy.” He laughed. “You’re being released into your friend’s custody. Step away from the force field.”
Perjon complied, a few seconds later, after a nod from the Saurian chief of security, a young human ensign dropped the force fields. It flashed brightly before fading from existence and Perjon stepped through.
“I was under the impression that the fight last night would keep me in that cell for two more days. What changed?” he asked as they left the brig. Fad'gh didn't deem it worthwhile to reply.
Outside, in the security chief's office, a man was sitting in the chief’s chair. A Vulcan dressed in civvies. Black pants, a yellow shirt and a purple vest. Obviously he had bought his attire on the station. It was, unique...for a lack of a better way of describing it. Ever since the tailor and ex-spy Garak had left the station, fashion aboard DS9 had dropped to an all time low.
The man appeared to be someone Chief Fad’gh respected greatly, because he bowed his head slowly and put his right hand to his chest, in the traditional Saurian salute. The Vulcan returned it, and after a quick nod, Chief Fad’gh left.
The Vulcan looked up at Perjon. Almost like he was trying to probe his mind. And judging from the look, he was minutes away from being able to. “Perjon Dax. Formerly of the USS Ballona. Valedictorian of you class at Starfleet Academy, rank of Lieutenant Commander, advanced tactical training and covert ops, expert in Klingon martial arts and Suus Mahna.” He said, reading from the padd in his hand. “A holding cell. -- Not exactly the place I hoped to find a man like you. Nonetheless, here you are.”
“And you are?” Dax inquired.
“I’m Captain Valom. I’m here to give you a job.” He replied with a very un-Vulcan smile.
Dax shook his head. He didn’t seem to care very much. “If you know so much about me, you should also know that I resigned eleven ago. I’m done with Starfleet.“ he said. “If there nothing else, I miss my holding cell.” He rose to leave.
“Just like that?” Valon asked, almost surprised. He had of course read Dax’s file, but not in a million years did he expect this type of treatment. “You don’t even want to know what the job is?”
“No. As I said, I'm done with Starfleet. What I need, they can’t provide.” Dax said flatly. His arms crossed across his chest. Desperately trying to hide the pain in his abdomen his cellmate had caused two days earlier.
"Vengeance?"
"Something like that, yes." Dax replied. Clearly showing his annoyance the fact that he was forced to admit it.
“I see.” Valon shook his head. “Perhaps you’re not the man I was looking for... – Oh, and in case, by some godsend miracle, you turn into the man I was looking for. The Trafalgar is docked at Pylon 2 for another 12 hours.”
He stood up and headed for the door. He halted in the doorway. “My father told me I should look at your file. And I did. Reading it, I was pleasantly surprised. I saw Curzon Dax, the diplomat who negotiated the Khitomer accords. Jadzia Dax, of the house of Martok and a Dominion war veteran. Ezri Dax, one of the officers who stopped the Borg invasion...and, incidentally, someone who was a dear friend of mine."
Dax made sure to show no reaction. He had no memory of the Vulcan...but on the other hand, he wouldn't be surprised if the man was telling the truth.
The Vulcan then turned to lock eyes with Dax. And then...his voice seemed to turn...bitter. "And then you. Do you know what I see when I look at you?"
Dax met his gaze, saying nothing.
"All I see...is a drunken, sorry excuse of a Starfleet officer, who can’t do anything but feel sorry for himself. Your ship was destroyed, yes. Your friends died, along with four hundred other officers. It was tragic. But that's no excuse to let you life and career go down the drain. That's a reason to make something of your life since you were lucky enough to survive."
He shook his head in what looked like disgust. "The great Dax. You don’t deserve the Dax symbiont. The Symbiosis Commission made a grave error by giving approving you for joining… What a waste... “
Those were Captain Valon’s last words before he disappeared into the crowd outside the security office.
***
"Are you still here?" Fad'gh asked returning from his rounds on the promenade an hour later. Dax was still sitting in the office contemplating what Valon had said. Maybe he's right, he though. I am a waste. And if I am. What do I do about it?
"Hey! Are you deaf or something? You're free to go. Get out of my office if you don't want to return to the cell!" the chief barked. Dax slowly stood up and headed for the door.
He turned halfway out the door. "You know Chief, I liked you predecessor better. Have a good day. If it’s possible for you, that is." he said and left leaving Fad'gh shout something untranslatable after him.
***
“Since when do you tolerate such unsavory characters in this fine establishment?” Perjon quipped as he took a seat once again in Quark’s. Carefully avoiding the chair that was Galrisan’s favourite.
Grinning, Quark replied, “Ever since I laid eyes on Jadzia.” He poured Dax a drink.
“Auch…” Dax grimaced. “That hurts, Quark, it really does.”
“Well…” Quark leaned closer. “You did start the fight.”
Dax smiled wryly in reponse, “I suppose…But they had it coming.”
“True,” He nodded. “But who cares? Everyone gets what’s coming eventually.”
“So you don’t mind customers pushing the Dabo girls around?”
“She’ll be adequately compensated. Besides, he hadn’t really done anything to her yet.”
“Once a Ferengi…” Dax started.
Quark cracked a wide smile. One that made his massive ears seem even bigger. “I know, always…rich.”
Dax shook his head in disappointment “You know, that’s not exactly what I was going to say.”
Quark smiled. “So, I heard an interesting rumor.”
“Heard or started?” Dax asked. Truly unsure about the answer. The Ferengi had an interesting track record. Interesting meaning, borderline criminal. But since neither Odo nor Lieutenant Ro could prove it, he remained the innocent businessman he was known to be.
“You wound me, Dax. I heard you turned down a job. Apparently Captain Valom thinks you’re a good-for-nothing, lazy brawler with nothing to lose.”
“I am a good-for-nothing lazy brawler with nothing to lose.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Dax I used to know.”
“Well, I’m not as pretty as the Dax you used to know either.”
“True.”
“I don’t know, maybe I should try harder.”
“Where’s the fun in that when you can come here and get beaten half to death? I thought you were a masochist.”
“Never was, never will be.”
“Cynic?”
“Definitely.”
“You hate this place, don’t you?” Quark asked, pouring him another drink.
“With a passion.”
“Then what are you still doing here? Your ship leaves in about seven hours.”
Dax smiled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“What day?”
“Quark encouraging me to go crawling back to Starfleet.”
“I’m not. You always do whatever you want anyways. Sometimes you just don’t know what it is you do want. Until I hit you in the face with it.”
Perjon sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You know as much as I hate to admit it…”
“I’m right.” Quark interrupted.
“You’re right.”
“I’m always right. See you around, Dax.”
“Maybe, maybe not. You’re the best, Quark.”
“I try.” He grinned
“Goodbye, scoundrel.”
“Goodbye, masochist.”
***
USS Trafalgar
Captains ready room, Deck 1
The door chime rang, jolting Captain Valon from his thoughts. “Come.” He called out as Lieutenant Donovan stepped in. The engineering noncom turned acting XO remained at attention, something that Valon hated. He made a swooshing gesture for him to loosen up.
“You sent for me, sir?” Donovan asked. Complying with what he considered permission to stand at ease.
“Yes, I did. How’s the resupply going? We need to be in orbit of Cardassia Prime in 14 hours. We’re being sent out again. Once we drop off the parts for the DaVinci, we’ll be heading out to the border. And I don’t want hear it, Lieutenant. I know precisely how much you despise border patrol. But this time it will be different.”
“Aye sir.” Donovan smiled. “If I may ask, sir. – How’s the hunt going?”
“Hunt? – Oh, you mean Dax. I found him in holding cell. He wasn’t very… How should I put it? Optimistic about returning to Starfleet.”
Donovan looked quizzical. “Returning, sir? I wasn’t aware that he left in the first place. – Ah, you didn’t tell him about the status of his resignation, did you? Or the arrest warrant for that matter.”
“No. I didn’t want to threaten him. If he reconsiders, he’ll be here in…” He looked at his computer. “six hours. If not, he’s not the man I’m looking for and don’t want him as my XO anyway. So no harm done. Starfleet security can take him on the desertion charge if they want to.”
“So how was he? Should I worry if he’s going to bash my head in if he has a bad day? With all due respect, sir. He doesn’t seem so stable.” Donovan pointed out.
Valon shook his head. “I'm not saying he's the model officer. Not after the Ballona, at least. But if he’s half the officer Ezri was, I need him.” He said. “I don’t know if he was just beaten and hung-over or plain indifferent, but he didn’t recognize me. I just hope there still some Dax in him after everything he’s been through.”
Donavan noticed the sad look on Valon’s face. “You miss her, don’t you?”
Valon paused for a moment, and nodded. “Yes...I do. Very much." He looked off, the face of an old, dear friend filling his mind. When he spoke, it wasn't to Donovan, as much as to himself.
"I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Ezri. The Borg destroyed Shi’Kahr...and there was nothing I could do. I thought my life was over. Quite frankly--I wanted to die. Everyone I ever cared about was dead. Ezri Dax...she taught me to live again."
He sighed. "You know...I handed in my resignation three times. She denied every single one. When I sent her my fourth, she called me into her ready room. She took the padd and approved it. Just like that, without a word. Then, when I turned to leave, she stopped me. She said that I had a chance to do something with my life. To do some good. To honor everyone who had lost their lives, instead of letting survivor’s guilt take over."
He shrugged. "I just brushed it off as an attempt to make me feel guilty about leaving my shipmates in a time like that. But...I’ll never forget the look on her face. That’s when I knew I had made a mistake. She didn’t yell at me, she didn’t say I was wrong by leaving. But that look she gave me, I will remember for the rest of my life. Like… I don’t know how to describe it. Like endless disappointment...”
“Yes, she had a notorious way of looking at people. She could make a Klingon sink into the floor, just by looking at them. I heard about that that. Never met her myself, though. Unfortunately... – I take it you didn’t resign then?”
“No, I didn’t. I transferred to command track instead. After three years of service aboard the Aventine, she recommended me for the captaincy of the Hood.”
“So you’re trying to help him because you went through something similar? No offense captain, noble as it is, but you don’t owe this man anything. The moment Ezri Dax died, the slate turned blank again. Once the host dies and the symbiont is put into the next one, there are no debts, no commitments and no promises. It’s Trill tradition.”
“Yes,” Valon nodded “you’re absolutely right. I don’t owe Perjon anything. I owe it to Ezri.”
That statement was clear. Nonetheless, Donovan wouldn’t let it go. “Captain, you know that I consider you a man of great integrity and honor. But if you are trying to repay a debt by bringing an unstable man aboard to serve as you XO, with all due respect, that’s not honorable, that just plain stupid. And as your XO, albeit merely temporary, I must object. There must be someone else.”
“Like you?” Valon shot back. Quite a bit sharper than he originally intended.
Donovan shook his head, looked down at Valon and said, “The thought had crossed my mind, but there is no chance Starfleet command is going to permit that. Not after Melcor IV… I’m not regretting anything, scrapping the mission was the right thing to do. I don’t mind covert ops but when civilians are in the line of fire…”
Valon raised his hand to silence Donovan. “Yes, I heard all that already, Lieutenant. And just to clarify, I did try and I was stonewalled.” He said.
“So you will reconsider Commander Dax?” Donovan asked. Sounding almost like he was afraid of the answer.
“No. That is all. Contact me if and when he’s aboard. Dismissed.” Valon said flatly. Since the usual permission of free speech had obviously been revoked. Donovan left.
The door swished closed behind Jack Donovan as he ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed, stepping away from Captain Valon’s ready room as the turbolift opened and Lieutenant Raitar entered the bridge.
“Commander.” He acknowledged the Captain’s wife with a smile and a nod, the magenta-haired Boslic responding with an impish smile of her own.
“Lieutenant.” She nodded and stepped towards the ready room. “Is the Captain alone?” She asked.
“He is.” Donovan nodded and turned his attention to the bridge. “You are relieved, Commander Ru’mel.”
“Yes, sir.” The Tactical Officer replied. “Routing command functions back to your console. The Bridge is yours.” Donovan glanced back at the ready room as Raitar disappeared inside.
Donovan sighed once more and accessed Dax’s file for the fifth time in as many hours, hoping to find something that would explain why Valon wanted Dax so badly for this position. It wasn’t so much that Jack wanted the position – that ship had sailed – but giving the position of Executive Officer on a Sovereign-class vessel to a deserter seemed somehow horribly wrong.
The political part of Donovan’s mind told him to find something further to use against Dax, something to convince Valon his choice was wrong…but he quickly discarded the notion. The Captain’s decision was final, and Jack would say no more about it unless asked. All he could do now was have everything was in order for the changeover to a new XO and hope Perjon Dax didn’t show up in the next seven hours.
There has to be someone better for the job, Jack thought. I won’t bring it up, but if the Captain asks…I’ll be prepared. He started writing a list of possible recommendations for the position, just in case Valon reconsidered.
Raitar exited the ready room just then, Valon a step behind her. She turned to the right, he continued straight forward, just barely brushing her arm with his hand as he passed her. Donovan stood up, the standard response to the appearance of a superior. Raitar turned back for a brief moment and smiled over her shoulder, then entered the turbolift.
“Status, Donovan?” Valon asked without sitting down.
“Everything’s in order, sir. No change in our situation. And you, sir?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your status?”
Valon smirked. “Quite fine, thank you. If everything’s in order, I will see you in approximately 5.5 hours. You have the bridge, Number One.”
“Yes sir.” Donovan agreed. Valon’s smile got wider and he left the bridge.
“For five hours.” Donovan muttered. “Let’s see what I can do in five hours.”
“Is your Security Protocol and duty roster summary finished yet, Commander A’kel?” He asked the Security Officer.
“Yes, I will transfer the files to you immediately.” Kel replied quickly and started manipulating his console.
“Thank you. I want everything organized for the new First Officer,” he said. In a softer and lower tone, he added to himself, “Whoever that turns out to be.”
***
Finished with the incredibly dry status report about the new modifications to the deflector dish, the fourth padd wiht ship’s status information he had to read, Donovan reached for his combadge. With a quick tap he opened a channel to the captain. Still hoping for him to rethink his choice of XO. Mostly because Donovan was going report directly to the man. The ship and the crew was, in this case, a second priority. “Sir, you told me to inform you when we departed. We are undocking as we speak.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. I’m on my way. Valon out.” Came the Captain’s half tired, half annoyed reply through the comm. Exactly two minutes later, the Vulcan stepped onto the bridge.
Donovan relinquished the center seat in a heartbeat and returned to his OPS position. “Systems are green. Current speed, full impulse. Warp speed on you command, Captain.” Donovan said turning back towards Valon.
Valon nodded. “Excellent. Set course to Cardassia Prime. Warp eight. Engage.”
“Aye aye, Warp eight.” Lieutenant Andrew Davis replied bitterly from the helm. “Warp…” he muttered under his breath. “We just got a new slipstream drive and we don’t use it. Unbelievable…”
Blaming it on new-toy-itis, Valon completely disregarded the helmsman’s bitter tone. He got up and nodded to Donovan. “Ready room. Now.” He said. Donovan rushed after him momentarily as a relief officer replaced him at OPS.
Taking a seat in the couch as instructed, Donovan spoke up. “So, Captain. Was he a no-show?”
Valon took his cup of Raktajino from the replicator and sat down. “Well…” he scratched his head. “He’s here alright. That’s why I asked you in here. You might want to get to know the man.”
The door chime rang. Both men looked at the door. Donovan a bit more negatively than usual.
“Speaking of the devil…” Donovan said silently and put on the most diplomatic mask he could muster. After Valon’s command, the doors parted revealing a Trill male dressed in civvies. Lieutanant Commander Perjon Dax. He walked past Donovan without even noticing him and approached Valon.
Valon looked up from the padd in his hands. “Changed your mind, have you?” he asked trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.
“Yes…” Dax nodded. “But don’t give me another lecture about how I’ve wasted my life, all right?” he handed a padd to Valon. “My request to be reinstated into Starfleet.”
“Ah…” Valon smiled. “We won’t be needing this. But I appreciate the formality. What changed you mind, Perjon?”
“You did. And I would have been here sooner if one of your men hadn’t insisted I go through the security checks. Apparently I was flagged as a Ferengi cargoship.”
“That’s because you were a Ferengi cargoship. Your fancy transponder can make your little ship look like a goddamn Borg Cube on sensors.” Donovan snapped. Noticing the look on Valon’s face upon the mentioning of the Borg, he quickly added. “Sorry sir.”
Valon gave him an appreciative nod. “It’s perfectly all right, Lieutenant. No matter. Let’s get down to business. – Dax. You currently hold the rank of Lieutenant Commander and you were the XO of the Ballona for two years before its destruction, correct?”
“Yes, sir. I was.” Dax replied. Valon tried to read him, an old trick he had learned from Ezri Dax. But the man’s poker face remained inscrutable. Not even when mentioning the Ballona did he flinch.
“What would you say if I would offer you the XO position on the Trafalgar?”
“Permission to speak freely?” Dax asked. Upon Valon’s quick gesture with his right arm that could loosely be translated into ‘go ahead’, he continued. “Truthfully sir. I’d ask you if you are completely sane. Who would want me as their XO?”
“No one.” Valon replied. “Jack, – could you give us the room? Your shift is over anyway. Get some rest.”
Donovan nodded and shot Dax a glare that said everything he needed to know. “Get yourself together or I will kick you out the nearest airlock.” He mentally reached out and tried to strangle the man. But when no invisible arms extended he gave up and headed for the door.
Dax smiled at the Second officer wryly as he left. Something that just added to the hostile tension between the two men.
“No one, but me.” Valon added. “I’m inclined to give you some slack because I know you. You could be one hell of an XO if you put your mind to it. But…”
“With all due respect, Captain. You don’t know me. And you never had.” Perjon cut in.
Seeing his point, Valon lowered his gaze and gave his desk a fleeting look. He wasn’t an overly personal man. His desk was spartan. It had always been. My ready room is my workplace. Not my quarters. He always said when someone asked him why he had no personal affects present. But there were three things he held dearly. Two pictures and an IDIC medallion. The medallion had been given to him by his, now late, mother as a child, and the two pictures were the last memories of his good friend and mentor, Ezri Dax. Ironically, he never really got along with her husband, Julian Bashir. In the beginning, he couldn’t stand the man. But now, he couldn’t imagine them not being friends and missed him just as much as he missed Ezri.
Valon picked up one of the picture frames, gave it a long and thorough look, remembering the good memories behind it. ‘The last meal’, he called the picture. The last time they had all met. Ezri, Julian, Sam, and him. A week before tha attack that had claimed Julian’s, and consequently Ezri’s life.
“What’s that Captain?” Dax asked as Valon was looking at the picture frame.
Valon smiled. “Nothing. Just some old memories. – Here.” He said handing the picture frame to Dax.
Dax carefully probed every inch of the picture. He didn’t remember it being taken, but he recognized the place where they were. Benjamin Sisko’s Restaurant in New Orleans. He looked at the faces. Samaritan Bowers, Julian Bashir, Valon and Ezri Dax. “She was very beautiful, wasn’t she?” Dax said. It was more of a statement than a question. He returned the picture to Valon.
“Yes,” he said. “She was also very married.” Smiling, Valon looked up at Dax and then back at the picture of Ezri. “You’re right. I knew her.” He finally said. Still looking at the picture. “I don’t know you. But I know how you work, how you think. And I’m confident that you will do a good job if you really want to.”
Valon carefully put the picture back. Cleaning off the thin layer of dust with his right index finger. “I could order you to do this, but I won’t.” he said. Letting his words sink in. “I know how Trill traditions work. I pride myself in knowing everything that is possible about different cultures. But, I still consider you a friend. -- It is your choice, Dax.” He said.
“It’s your choice, Dax…” Valon voice was kind and friendly. Not commanding or demanding. It would have been so easy to simply say no. To simply keep running. To keep avoiding the memory that had haunted him for so long. A mistake that hadn’t even been his. Yet one he couldn’t prevent. And as the Ballona’s XO, he still felt responsible. But…he couldn’t run anymore…
“I accept.” Dax finally said. Valon’s expression didn’t change. But Perjon could still see that he was glad.
Valon reached for a padd and handed it to Dax. “Computer. Record that from this date, effective immediately, Lieutenant Commander Perjon Dax is promoted to the rank of Commander and assigned as Executive officer to the USS Trafalgar, NCC-91225. Authorization: Valon- 2-4-Kappa-Blue.”
The computer responded with a short chime. “Ships log and roster has been updated. Commander Perjon Dax has been given command level clearance…
As the computer finished it’s long and drawn out list of every system and area Commander Perjon Dax had no access to, only two words came to mind for Perjon. “Now what?” he asked.
“Now?” Valon inquired. “Now you download everything in your ships databanks into my personal mainframe. Every name, every job, every location. Every particle of dust you smuggled. And I’ll call an old friend and say that Dax needs a favor. If you can produce anything worthwhile he will make sure that you’ve been working undercover for Starfleet intelligence your entire criminal career. At elast on paper…”
“What old friend?” Dax inquired, looking incredibly quizzical.
Valon simply leaned back in his chair. “I’m afraid that’s classified.” He smiled. “But I’ll tell you some other time. Right now, got and get some sleep. Your shift starts at oh-eight hundred hours. Dismissed.”
“Aye.” Dax nodded and headed for the door. Before the doors closed, he could here Valon address the computer.
“Computer. Open a private channel to Captain Samaritan Bowers, USS Aventine.”
“Commander.” He acknowledged the Captain’s wife with a smile and a nod, the magenta-haired Boslic responding with an impish smile of her own.
“Lieutenant.” She nodded and stepped towards the ready room. “Is the Captain alone?” She asked.
“He is.” Donovan nodded and turned his attention to the bridge. “You are relieved, Commander Ru’mel.”
“Yes, sir.” The Tactical Officer replied. “Routing command functions back to your console. The Bridge is yours.” Donovan glanced back at the ready room as Raitar disappeared inside.
Donovan sighed once more and accessed Dax’s file for the fifth time in as many hours, hoping to find something that would explain why Valon wanted Dax so badly for this position. It wasn’t so much that Jack wanted the position – that ship had sailed – but giving the position of Executive Officer on a Sovereign-class vessel to a deserter seemed somehow horribly wrong.
The political part of Donovan’s mind told him to find something further to use against Dax, something to convince Valon his choice was wrong…but he quickly discarded the notion. The Captain’s decision was final, and Jack would say no more about it unless asked. All he could do now was have everything was in order for the changeover to a new XO and hope Perjon Dax didn’t show up in the next seven hours.
There has to be someone better for the job, Jack thought. I won’t bring it up, but if the Captain asks…I’ll be prepared. He started writing a list of possible recommendations for the position, just in case Valon reconsidered.
Raitar exited the ready room just then, Valon a step behind her. She turned to the right, he continued straight forward, just barely brushing her arm with his hand as he passed her. Donovan stood up, the standard response to the appearance of a superior. Raitar turned back for a brief moment and smiled over her shoulder, then entered the turbolift.
“Status, Donovan?” Valon asked without sitting down.
“Everything’s in order, sir. No change in our situation. And you, sir?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your status?”
Valon smirked. “Quite fine, thank you. If everything’s in order, I will see you in approximately 5.5 hours. You have the bridge, Number One.”
“Yes sir.” Donovan agreed. Valon’s smile got wider and he left the bridge.
“For five hours.” Donovan muttered. “Let’s see what I can do in five hours.”
“Is your Security Protocol and duty roster summary finished yet, Commander A’kel?” He asked the Security Officer.
“Yes, I will transfer the files to you immediately.” Kel replied quickly and started manipulating his console.
“Thank you. I want everything organized for the new First Officer,” he said. In a softer and lower tone, he added to himself, “Whoever that turns out to be.”
***
Finished with the incredibly dry status report about the new modifications to the deflector dish, the fourth padd wiht ship’s status information he had to read, Donovan reached for his combadge. With a quick tap he opened a channel to the captain. Still hoping for him to rethink his choice of XO. Mostly because Donovan was going report directly to the man. The ship and the crew was, in this case, a second priority. “Sir, you told me to inform you when we departed. We are undocking as we speak.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. I’m on my way. Valon out.” Came the Captain’s half tired, half annoyed reply through the comm. Exactly two minutes later, the Vulcan stepped onto the bridge.
Donovan relinquished the center seat in a heartbeat and returned to his OPS position. “Systems are green. Current speed, full impulse. Warp speed on you command, Captain.” Donovan said turning back towards Valon.
Valon nodded. “Excellent. Set course to Cardassia Prime. Warp eight. Engage.”
“Aye aye, Warp eight.” Lieutenant Andrew Davis replied bitterly from the helm. “Warp…” he muttered under his breath. “We just got a new slipstream drive and we don’t use it. Unbelievable…”
Blaming it on new-toy-itis, Valon completely disregarded the helmsman’s bitter tone. He got up and nodded to Donovan. “Ready room. Now.” He said. Donovan rushed after him momentarily as a relief officer replaced him at OPS.
Taking a seat in the couch as instructed, Donovan spoke up. “So, Captain. Was he a no-show?”
Valon took his cup of Raktajino from the replicator and sat down. “Well…” he scratched his head. “He’s here alright. That’s why I asked you in here. You might want to get to know the man.”
The door chime rang. Both men looked at the door. Donovan a bit more negatively than usual.
“Speaking of the devil…” Donovan said silently and put on the most diplomatic mask he could muster. After Valon’s command, the doors parted revealing a Trill male dressed in civvies. Lieutanant Commander Perjon Dax. He walked past Donovan without even noticing him and approached Valon.
Valon looked up from the padd in his hands. “Changed your mind, have you?” he asked trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.
“Yes…” Dax nodded. “But don’t give me another lecture about how I’ve wasted my life, all right?” he handed a padd to Valon. “My request to be reinstated into Starfleet.”
“Ah…” Valon smiled. “We won’t be needing this. But I appreciate the formality. What changed you mind, Perjon?”
“You did. And I would have been here sooner if one of your men hadn’t insisted I go through the security checks. Apparently I was flagged as a Ferengi cargoship.”
“That’s because you were a Ferengi cargoship. Your fancy transponder can make your little ship look like a goddamn Borg Cube on sensors.” Donovan snapped. Noticing the look on Valon’s face upon the mentioning of the Borg, he quickly added. “Sorry sir.”
Valon gave him an appreciative nod. “It’s perfectly all right, Lieutenant. No matter. Let’s get down to business. – Dax. You currently hold the rank of Lieutenant Commander and you were the XO of the Ballona for two years before its destruction, correct?”
“Yes, sir. I was.” Dax replied. Valon tried to read him, an old trick he had learned from Ezri Dax. But the man’s poker face remained inscrutable. Not even when mentioning the Ballona did he flinch.
“What would you say if I would offer you the XO position on the Trafalgar?”
“Permission to speak freely?” Dax asked. Upon Valon’s quick gesture with his right arm that could loosely be translated into ‘go ahead’, he continued. “Truthfully sir. I’d ask you if you are completely sane. Who would want me as their XO?”
“No one.” Valon replied. “Jack, – could you give us the room? Your shift is over anyway. Get some rest.”
Donovan nodded and shot Dax a glare that said everything he needed to know. “Get yourself together or I will kick you out the nearest airlock.” He mentally reached out and tried to strangle the man. But when no invisible arms extended he gave up and headed for the door.
Dax smiled at the Second officer wryly as he left. Something that just added to the hostile tension between the two men.
“No one, but me.” Valon added. “I’m inclined to give you some slack because I know you. You could be one hell of an XO if you put your mind to it. But…”
“With all due respect, Captain. You don’t know me. And you never had.” Perjon cut in.
Seeing his point, Valon lowered his gaze and gave his desk a fleeting look. He wasn’t an overly personal man. His desk was spartan. It had always been. My ready room is my workplace. Not my quarters. He always said when someone asked him why he had no personal affects present. But there were three things he held dearly. Two pictures and an IDIC medallion. The medallion had been given to him by his, now late, mother as a child, and the two pictures were the last memories of his good friend and mentor, Ezri Dax. Ironically, he never really got along with her husband, Julian Bashir. In the beginning, he couldn’t stand the man. But now, he couldn’t imagine them not being friends and missed him just as much as he missed Ezri.
Valon picked up one of the picture frames, gave it a long and thorough look, remembering the good memories behind it. ‘The last meal’, he called the picture. The last time they had all met. Ezri, Julian, Sam, and him. A week before tha attack that had claimed Julian’s, and consequently Ezri’s life.
“What’s that Captain?” Dax asked as Valon was looking at the picture frame.
Valon smiled. “Nothing. Just some old memories. – Here.” He said handing the picture frame to Dax.
Dax carefully probed every inch of the picture. He didn’t remember it being taken, but he recognized the place where they were. Benjamin Sisko’s Restaurant in New Orleans. He looked at the faces. Samaritan Bowers, Julian Bashir, Valon and Ezri Dax. “She was very beautiful, wasn’t she?” Dax said. It was more of a statement than a question. He returned the picture to Valon.
“Yes,” he said. “She was also very married.” Smiling, Valon looked up at Dax and then back at the picture of Ezri. “You’re right. I knew her.” He finally said. Still looking at the picture. “I don’t know you. But I know how you work, how you think. And I’m confident that you will do a good job if you really want to.”
Valon carefully put the picture back. Cleaning off the thin layer of dust with his right index finger. “I could order you to do this, but I won’t.” he said. Letting his words sink in. “I know how Trill traditions work. I pride myself in knowing everything that is possible about different cultures. But, I still consider you a friend. -- It is your choice, Dax.” He said.
“It’s your choice, Dax…” Valon voice was kind and friendly. Not commanding or demanding. It would have been so easy to simply say no. To simply keep running. To keep avoiding the memory that had haunted him for so long. A mistake that hadn’t even been his. Yet one he couldn’t prevent. And as the Ballona’s XO, he still felt responsible. But…he couldn’t run anymore…
“I accept.” Dax finally said. Valon’s expression didn’t change. But Perjon could still see that he was glad.
Valon reached for a padd and handed it to Dax. “Computer. Record that from this date, effective immediately, Lieutenant Commander Perjon Dax is promoted to the rank of Commander and assigned as Executive officer to the USS Trafalgar, NCC-91225. Authorization: Valon- 2-4-Kappa-Blue.”
The computer responded with a short chime. “Ships log and roster has been updated. Commander Perjon Dax has been given command level clearance…
As the computer finished it’s long and drawn out list of every system and area Commander Perjon Dax had no access to, only two words came to mind for Perjon. “Now what?” he asked.
“Now?” Valon inquired. “Now you download everything in your ships databanks into my personal mainframe. Every name, every job, every location. Every particle of dust you smuggled. And I’ll call an old friend and say that Dax needs a favor. If you can produce anything worthwhile he will make sure that you’ve been working undercover for Starfleet intelligence your entire criminal career. At elast on paper…”
“What old friend?” Dax inquired, looking incredibly quizzical.
Valon simply leaned back in his chair. “I’m afraid that’s classified.” He smiled. “But I’ll tell you some other time. Right now, got and get some sleep. Your shift starts at oh-eight hundred hours. Dismissed.”
“Aye.” Dax nodded and headed for the door. Before the doors closed, he could here Valon address the computer.
“Computer. Open a private channel to Captain Samaritan Bowers, USS Aventine.”
Senior officers lounge
Deck 7, Section 12
2245, ship time
“Hello, Donovan.” Perjon Dax said cheerfully. Jack looked up as humorlessly as possible. It was the first time he’d seen Dax in uniform, and he had to admit the Trill wore it well. One could almost be fooled by that façade of charisma, could almost forget that Dax was a good-for-nothing deserter. Almost...
“Sir.” Jack nodded politely and returned his attention to the PADD. Dax chuckled and sat down across from him.
“Something funny, sir?” Jack asked without looking up.
“Not really funny…just… amusing.”
“And what would that be, sir?”
“You don’t like me, do you, Jack?”
“Sir?”
“Stop that. It’s obvious?”
“Stop…what, sir? What’s obvious?”
“Stop calling me ‘sir.’ It really isn’t necessary and I know you’re not a stickler for protocol so it must be something else. And you grimaced, just a little, when I called you Jack. You’re being just polite enough but you’re staring at your PADD and trying your best not to look at me.”
“Sorry, sir.” Jack turned the PADD off and looked Dax in the eye.
“Thank you, Donovan. Now be honest. You don’t like me.”
“It’s nothing against you personally, Commander, I don’t know you. I just…”
“Don’t think I deserve this job.”
“Well…no, sir, I don’t.”
“Good.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your right, Jack, I don’t deserve it. What I told Valon earlier wasn’t out of modesty. By all accounts, the job should be yours.”
“The Captain doesn’t believe so.”
“We both know that’s not true, Jack. However, the Captain has been around long enough to know
that preparing for this kind of mission isn’t the time to be wrestling bureaucratic stupidity. Once this mission is over, don’t be surprised if Valon…”
“Please don’t try to console me, Dax.”
“What, no ‘sir’?” Dax said in mock offense. “We’ll see what happens. But don’t give up on yourself just yet.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“And we’re back to stonewalling. If you’ll excuse me, I have to review your crew evaluations. Goodnight, Commander.”
Commander Perjon Dax’s private quarters
Deck 3, section 5.
“That was fun.” Perjon rolled his eyes as an imaginary tall and brunette Trill woman suddenly threw an arm around his shoulders.
“Oh, shut up.”
“You’re the one who ‘channeled’ me, Perjon.”
“I didn’t say you could show up whenever you felt like it.” He opened the door to his quarters and she disappeared as he stepped inside. He took off his coat and pips and collapsed face down onto the couch.
“You look tired.” Suddenly she was sitting on the arm of the couch looking down at him.
“Go away, Jadzia.”
“You say that, but you don’t really mean it.”
“Yes I do!”
“Don’t be mad at me, it’s your brain we’re dealing with.”
“I don’t have a problem with my brain. Please stay out of it.”
“Alright, fine. Let’s talk about Donovan instead.”
“What about him?’
“I like him.”
“Me too.”
“He doesn’t like us.”
“What do you mean, us? It’s me he doesn’t like.”
“Sum of the parts, Perjon. Never forget that.”
“Then maybe it’s you he doesn’t like.”
“No, he’d like me. And he’d flirt with me, and I’d shut him down and walk away.”
“So you don’t like him?”
“Oh, I like him, I’ve just seen his personality before.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“You tell me. It’s still your brain.”
“If you say so.” Perjon shook his head and picked up a PADD, trying his best to ignore the self-induced hallucination he wished would go away.
The door chimed after a moment and Perjon stood to answer it. A thin human Lieutenant with bright blue eyes and a ready smile greeted him.
“Hello, Commander.”
“Lieutenant…Davis, right?”
“Yes sir. Just thought I’d come and introduce myself.”
“Good idea, come on in.” Perjon said with a smile and a wave.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sit down, relax. Can I get you anything?”
“No thanks, sir.” Davis shook his head and sank into the couch.
“You can stop calling me sir every second sentence, Davis.”
“Alright…Dax. You know, my grandfather knew a Dax.”
“Torias. I remember your grandfather, I think. Michael Davis was an excellent pilot. And an excellent thief.”
“Yes, that he was.” Davis laughed and the chime rang again. “You’re popular today.” He said turning towards the door.
“Apparently. Come in!” Perjon said, turning to face the door as well. A beautiful Engineering Commander with magenta hair and a three-pronged ridge on her forehead stepped in and flashed a brilliant smile.
“Commander Perjon Dax.” The Boslic said warmly. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you as well, Lieutenant Commander Kelsara Raitar.” Dax smiled and returned to Boslic custom of stating one’s rank and full name on the first meeting. “Come in, sit down.” He gestured and she sat beside Davis.
“A’jay, koovay.” She said quietly to Davis, good-naturedly elbowing his arm.
“Meesa’jay.” He glanced at her and smiled even wider.
Perjon sat down and said, “You know, I really don’t see the family resemblance.” Raitar and Davis both laughed.
“You speak Boslae?” Raitar asked. “I had no idea.”
“Just well enough to recognize the words for brother and sister.” Dax replied.
“He’s like my koojay.” Raitar said. “Irritating but lovable.”
In what became a pattern of interruptions, Davis’ combadge chirped and an unfamiliar voice beckoned him elsewhere.
“I’m sorry to leave so abruptly Commander, I will see you on the bridge.” Davis smiled, shook Perjon’s hand, and left. Raitar’s face got a little more serious when Davis left and the room was silent for a moment, as if she was thinking of how best to say something.
“Just say, it, Commander.” Dax smiled.
“I…would you mind, Commander, if I spoke to you for a moment as the Captain’s wife and not as the Chief Engineer?” She said after a moment.
“Not at all, permission to speak freely.”
“Thank you. Dax, let me put this plainly. My husband took a chance in giving you this job. As nothing more than someone who loves Valon with her entire being, I’m asking you not to let him down. He has faith in you, but please don’t abandon him.”
“I…I won’t, ma’am.” Perjon said with quite a bit more confidence than he actually felt.
“Good.” She was smiling again. “Now that that’s over with, I’m afraid I have to leave as well. It was good to meet you, Dax.”
“You too, Raitar. Have a pleasant evening.”
“I will.” And she was gone.
“She’s pretty.” Someone who wasn’t even there said.
“Leave me alone, Jadzia. I’ll try the Rite again…”
“Alright, all you had to do is ask anyway.” The Emergence was fading, and finally Perjon Dax would be alone in his own mind.
Deck 7, Section 12
2245, ship time
“Hello, Donovan.” Perjon Dax said cheerfully. Jack looked up as humorlessly as possible. It was the first time he’d seen Dax in uniform, and he had to admit the Trill wore it well. One could almost be fooled by that façade of charisma, could almost forget that Dax was a good-for-nothing deserter. Almost...
“Sir.” Jack nodded politely and returned his attention to the PADD. Dax chuckled and sat down across from him.
“Something funny, sir?” Jack asked without looking up.
“Not really funny…just… amusing.”
“And what would that be, sir?”
“You don’t like me, do you, Jack?”
“Sir?”
“Stop that. It’s obvious?”
“Stop…what, sir? What’s obvious?”
“Stop calling me ‘sir.’ It really isn’t necessary and I know you’re not a stickler for protocol so it must be something else. And you grimaced, just a little, when I called you Jack. You’re being just polite enough but you’re staring at your PADD and trying your best not to look at me.”
“Sorry, sir.” Jack turned the PADD off and looked Dax in the eye.
“Thank you, Donovan. Now be honest. You don’t like me.”
“It’s nothing against you personally, Commander, I don’t know you. I just…”
“Don’t think I deserve this job.”
“Well…no, sir, I don’t.”
“Good.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your right, Jack, I don’t deserve it. What I told Valon earlier wasn’t out of modesty. By all accounts, the job should be yours.”
“The Captain doesn’t believe so.”
“We both know that’s not true, Jack. However, the Captain has been around long enough to know
that preparing for this kind of mission isn’t the time to be wrestling bureaucratic stupidity. Once this mission is over, don’t be surprised if Valon…”
“Please don’t try to console me, Dax.”
“What, no ‘sir’?” Dax said in mock offense. “We’ll see what happens. But don’t give up on yourself just yet.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“And we’re back to stonewalling. If you’ll excuse me, I have to review your crew evaluations. Goodnight, Commander.”
Commander Perjon Dax’s private quarters
Deck 3, section 5.
“That was fun.” Perjon rolled his eyes as an imaginary tall and brunette Trill woman suddenly threw an arm around his shoulders.
“Oh, shut up.”
“You’re the one who ‘channeled’ me, Perjon.”
“I didn’t say you could show up whenever you felt like it.” He opened the door to his quarters and she disappeared as he stepped inside. He took off his coat and pips and collapsed face down onto the couch.
“You look tired.” Suddenly she was sitting on the arm of the couch looking down at him.
“Go away, Jadzia.”
“You say that, but you don’t really mean it.”
“Yes I do!”
“Don’t be mad at me, it’s your brain we’re dealing with.”
“I don’t have a problem with my brain. Please stay out of it.”
“Alright, fine. Let’s talk about Donovan instead.”
“What about him?’
“I like him.”
“Me too.”
“He doesn’t like us.”
“What do you mean, us? It’s me he doesn’t like.”
“Sum of the parts, Perjon. Never forget that.”
“Then maybe it’s you he doesn’t like.”
“No, he’d like me. And he’d flirt with me, and I’d shut him down and walk away.”
“So you don’t like him?”
“Oh, I like him, I’ve just seen his personality before.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“You tell me. It’s still your brain.”
“If you say so.” Perjon shook his head and picked up a PADD, trying his best to ignore the self-induced hallucination he wished would go away.
The door chimed after a moment and Perjon stood to answer it. A thin human Lieutenant with bright blue eyes and a ready smile greeted him.
“Hello, Commander.”
“Lieutenant…Davis, right?”
“Yes sir. Just thought I’d come and introduce myself.”
“Good idea, come on in.” Perjon said with a smile and a wave.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sit down, relax. Can I get you anything?”
“No thanks, sir.” Davis shook his head and sank into the couch.
“You can stop calling me sir every second sentence, Davis.”
“Alright…Dax. You know, my grandfather knew a Dax.”
“Torias. I remember your grandfather, I think. Michael Davis was an excellent pilot. And an excellent thief.”
“Yes, that he was.” Davis laughed and the chime rang again. “You’re popular today.” He said turning towards the door.
“Apparently. Come in!” Perjon said, turning to face the door as well. A beautiful Engineering Commander with magenta hair and a three-pronged ridge on her forehead stepped in and flashed a brilliant smile.
“Commander Perjon Dax.” The Boslic said warmly. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you as well, Lieutenant Commander Kelsara Raitar.” Dax smiled and returned to Boslic custom of stating one’s rank and full name on the first meeting. “Come in, sit down.” He gestured and she sat beside Davis.
“A’jay, koovay.” She said quietly to Davis, good-naturedly elbowing his arm.
“Meesa’jay.” He glanced at her and smiled even wider.
Perjon sat down and said, “You know, I really don’t see the family resemblance.” Raitar and Davis both laughed.
“You speak Boslae?” Raitar asked. “I had no idea.”
“Just well enough to recognize the words for brother and sister.” Dax replied.
“He’s like my koojay.” Raitar said. “Irritating but lovable.”
In what became a pattern of interruptions, Davis’ combadge chirped and an unfamiliar voice beckoned him elsewhere.
“I’m sorry to leave so abruptly Commander, I will see you on the bridge.” Davis smiled, shook Perjon’s hand, and left. Raitar’s face got a little more serious when Davis left and the room was silent for a moment, as if she was thinking of how best to say something.
“Just say, it, Commander.” Dax smiled.
“I…would you mind, Commander, if I spoke to you for a moment as the Captain’s wife and not as the Chief Engineer?” She said after a moment.
“Not at all, permission to speak freely.”
“Thank you. Dax, let me put this plainly. My husband took a chance in giving you this job. As nothing more than someone who loves Valon with her entire being, I’m asking you not to let him down. He has faith in you, but please don’t abandon him.”
“I…I won’t, ma’am.” Perjon said with quite a bit more confidence than he actually felt.
“Good.” She was smiling again. “Now that that’s over with, I’m afraid I have to leave as well. It was good to meet you, Dax.”
“You too, Raitar. Have a pleasant evening.”
“I will.” And she was gone.
“She’s pretty.” Someone who wasn’t even there said.
“Leave me alone, Jadzia. I’ll try the Rite again…”
“Alright, all you had to do is ask anyway.” The Emergence was fading, and finally Perjon Dax would be alone in his own mind.
By the 25th century, interspecies relationships were a common occurrence. Therefore a marriage between a Vulcan and a Boslic didn’t raise any eyebrows. But there were things, small annoyances, if you will, that you had to look out for. Like the difference is Boslic and Vulcan biology. It was common knowledge that Vulcans needed little actual sleep. The Boslic species on the other hand needed ten hours at a bare minimum every day to function. But twelve- thirteen hours was more common.
That in turn led Valon to spend most of the night working in the next room in order to not wake his wife. This time, it was the list of newly assigned officers that needed his attention. At first glance, they were only young, inexperienced, ensigns from the latest batch of cadets that graduated. But on a closer look, he noticed a name he hadn’t seen or heard in a very, very long time.
Sulira Sisko.
Valon froze at the name. For this moment, his control slipped--to the point that he did not react to the klaxons of red alert status.
Usually Kelsara could sleep through a warp core breach, but she also had an acute sense of when the red alert klaxons would sound. And just as she had anticipated, the Trafalgar went to red alert a few seconds after she woke up. Apparently something important had happened, something that needed Alpha shifts attention.
He barely noticed Kelsara rushing out of their bedroom. Usually she could sleep through a warp core breach, but he knew she also had an acute sense of when the red alert klaxons would sound.
Thus, she was already out the door by the time Valon had gathered himself. That simple name had impacted him harder that he had anticipated.
“You coming?” she smiled before disappearing in the hallway, clearly in too big of a rush to notice her husband’s state of mind.
Valon rose to his feet, driving the name, and the emotions it brought with it, to the back of his mind.
Chief engineer Kelsara Raitar’s place was just there, engineering. So, as usual, Valon headed alone towards the bridge. Most officers disapproved with having the captain’s family or relatives aboard. It created a conflict of interest. But Valon was the type of man one didn’t dare to confront. He didn't consider himself threatening, but he always carried himself with a certain sternness. Most people would just call it commanding presence, but Valon liked to think there was something else, something his wife probably didn’t know either.
The bridge could only be described as organized chaos as Valon stepped out of the turbolift. “Report!” he barked, allowing his annoyance to express itself in his voice.
Commander Dax was standing with his back towards Valon, reading something on a padd. Then, as he clearly considered himself finished with his task, he took his seat next to Valon.
He leaned closer and smiled. “One minute and three seconds. Not bad, Captain. I think you just beat Ensign M’orads record.” He handed the padd to Valon. “You have a good crew, sir. The slowest clocked on two minutes flat. Quite a bit faster than regulation.”
Valon briefly glanced at the padd. “Good.” He said flatly. “But next time give me a heads up, Dax. I’d like to know what’s happening on my own ship. – What’s our ETA?”
Dax nodded to Davis. “Twenty-two minutes, Captain.” The helmsman replied without looking at his console. Either he had just checked or he knew it without needing his console. Valon decided to refrain from theorizing and leaned back in his chair.
“But captain,” Dax said mockingly. “If you know when we have our drills...isn’t that cheating?”
“I suppose it is, Dax.” Valon reluctantly admitted. “On the other hand, as the captain, I must know about everything that happens aboard my ship. Come to think of it. Did you have a chance to review the list of replacements?”
“Indeed I did. I found some very good candidates for the assistant chief engineer position. Other than that they are mostly newly graduated office--”
“Captain!” Donovan called out. “We’re receiving a priority one transmission from Starfleet Command. Your eyes only sir.”
The message I’ve been waiting for, he mused. “Very well, I’ll take it in my ready room. – Dax, you have the bridge.”
Upon Dax’s nod, Valon continued to his ready room, the silver doors closing behind him only moments later. He sat down in front of his terminal and entered his authorization code.
“Valon of Shikahr recognized. Rank: Captain, Commanding officer USS Trafalgar.” The computers female voice responded flatly. Moments later, the Starfleet logo was replaced by the face of an elderly, gray haired woman.
“Admiral Alasera. I was expecting Admiral Necheyev.” Valon said, a bit surprised. The elderly half Human, half Vulcan Admiral was almost considered a hero aboard the Trafalgar. Her words, ‘Travel to every star in the universe and return with their secrets’ decorated the Trafalgar’s dedication plaque. Jennifer T’Cha Alasera was indeed a celebrity, much to her annoyance.
“I sorry I’m not bringing any good news, Valon. But this can’t wait. I’m sure you know that we’ve been planning a rather covert operation for quite some time now. Well now it’s time for you to know the specifics.” She picked up a padd from her desk. The wide view camera on her terminal revealed it to be a padd issued by the Palais del la Concorde. “As you may or may now know, twenty-four days ago we detected a massive energy spike near a Romulan outpost matching the exact frequency of the Khitomer Cloaking device.”
“The one Donatra gave us?” Valon inquired.
“Yes, the very same. As you know, the cloak disappeared over ten years ago, and we have yet to recover it. However, three days ago, the USS Campbell responded to a Breen distress call and recovered hull fragments of two distinctively different ships. Both Federation in design.”
“Federation? As you suggesting we were behind the attacks on the outposts? Rogue officers? That hasn’t happened in nearly fifteen years. Disturbing thought, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is." She shook her head. "But I don’t believe we did it. This was discussed for a long time and we have reason to believe that Section 31 was behind the attacks. To what end, we still don’t know. To be frank, we’re still not sure its Section 31, but the possibility alone makes it a priority. We have enough to worry about with the Klingons. We don’t need the Typhon Pact breathing down our necks as well.”
“I was under the impression that Section 31 as an organization was crippled by the Borg invasion of -81.” Valon said scratching his head in confusion.
“So were we. But it has always been theorized that a great deal of their agents probably survived--as you know, I am sure."
Valon nodded. "Of course."
"If this indeed is Section 31, it appears that they have used the last thirty years secretly rebuilding their powerbase. Your job is to investigate and confirm. We need to know what the hell is going on. There is a package waiting for you on Cardassia, at the following coordinates. Should be able to push you in the right direction.”
“What are we transporting?” Valon asked. Usually he knew better that to ask, but this time he couldn’t resist.
Alasera’s response could be described as cryptic as best. “It's more of a whom you are transporting.”
Valon nodded respectively, taking her cryptic response as a polite way of saying, ‘none of your business’. “As you wish, ma’am. I’ll take care of it.” He reached for the terminal to terminate the connection but Alasera addressed him again.
“Valon…”
“Yes?”
“I’m telling you this as a friend, not your superior. Try to capture someone alive for once. We need the information. Don’t blow every ship out of the sky.”
Valon's eyebrow shot up, as he cracked a wide, and very un-vulcan smile. “I’ll pass that along to my tactical officer. He’s the guilty one.” He dropped the padd, lifted his right hand and made the V-shaped Vulcan salute. “Peace and long life, Jennifer.”
The admiral returned the salute. “Live long and prosper, Valon.” Then her face disappeared and was replaced by the Federation seal.
With the Admiral’s transmission severed, Valon had time to think. But all he could do was lean back in his seat, and mutter to himself.“What the hell have I gotten myself into…”
That in turn led Valon to spend most of the night working in the next room in order to not wake his wife. This time, it was the list of newly assigned officers that needed his attention. At first glance, they were only young, inexperienced, ensigns from the latest batch of cadets that graduated. But on a closer look, he noticed a name he hadn’t seen or heard in a very, very long time.
Sulira Sisko.
Valon froze at the name. For this moment, his control slipped--to the point that he did not react to the klaxons of red alert status.
Usually Kelsara could sleep through a warp core breach, but she also had an acute sense of when the red alert klaxons would sound. And just as she had anticipated, the Trafalgar went to red alert a few seconds after she woke up. Apparently something important had happened, something that needed Alpha shifts attention.
He barely noticed Kelsara rushing out of their bedroom. Usually she could sleep through a warp core breach, but he knew she also had an acute sense of when the red alert klaxons would sound.
Thus, she was already out the door by the time Valon had gathered himself. That simple name had impacted him harder that he had anticipated.
“You coming?” she smiled before disappearing in the hallway, clearly in too big of a rush to notice her husband’s state of mind.
Valon rose to his feet, driving the name, and the emotions it brought with it, to the back of his mind.
Chief engineer Kelsara Raitar’s place was just there, engineering. So, as usual, Valon headed alone towards the bridge. Most officers disapproved with having the captain’s family or relatives aboard. It created a conflict of interest. But Valon was the type of man one didn’t dare to confront. He didn't consider himself threatening, but he always carried himself with a certain sternness. Most people would just call it commanding presence, but Valon liked to think there was something else, something his wife probably didn’t know either.
The bridge could only be described as organized chaos as Valon stepped out of the turbolift. “Report!” he barked, allowing his annoyance to express itself in his voice.
Commander Dax was standing with his back towards Valon, reading something on a padd. Then, as he clearly considered himself finished with his task, he took his seat next to Valon.
He leaned closer and smiled. “One minute and three seconds. Not bad, Captain. I think you just beat Ensign M’orads record.” He handed the padd to Valon. “You have a good crew, sir. The slowest clocked on two minutes flat. Quite a bit faster than regulation.”
Valon briefly glanced at the padd. “Good.” He said flatly. “But next time give me a heads up, Dax. I’d like to know what’s happening on my own ship. – What’s our ETA?”
Dax nodded to Davis. “Twenty-two minutes, Captain.” The helmsman replied without looking at his console. Either he had just checked or he knew it without needing his console. Valon decided to refrain from theorizing and leaned back in his chair.
“But captain,” Dax said mockingly. “If you know when we have our drills...isn’t that cheating?”
“I suppose it is, Dax.” Valon reluctantly admitted. “On the other hand, as the captain, I must know about everything that happens aboard my ship. Come to think of it. Did you have a chance to review the list of replacements?”
“Indeed I did. I found some very good candidates for the assistant chief engineer position. Other than that they are mostly newly graduated office--”
“Captain!” Donovan called out. “We’re receiving a priority one transmission from Starfleet Command. Your eyes only sir.”
The message I’ve been waiting for, he mused. “Very well, I’ll take it in my ready room. – Dax, you have the bridge.”
Upon Dax’s nod, Valon continued to his ready room, the silver doors closing behind him only moments later. He sat down in front of his terminal and entered his authorization code.
“Valon of Shikahr recognized. Rank: Captain, Commanding officer USS Trafalgar.” The computers female voice responded flatly. Moments later, the Starfleet logo was replaced by the face of an elderly, gray haired woman.
“Admiral Alasera. I was expecting Admiral Necheyev.” Valon said, a bit surprised. The elderly half Human, half Vulcan Admiral was almost considered a hero aboard the Trafalgar. Her words, ‘Travel to every star in the universe and return with their secrets’ decorated the Trafalgar’s dedication plaque. Jennifer T’Cha Alasera was indeed a celebrity, much to her annoyance.
“I sorry I’m not bringing any good news, Valon. But this can’t wait. I’m sure you know that we’ve been planning a rather covert operation for quite some time now. Well now it’s time for you to know the specifics.” She picked up a padd from her desk. The wide view camera on her terminal revealed it to be a padd issued by the Palais del la Concorde. “As you may or may now know, twenty-four days ago we detected a massive energy spike near a Romulan outpost matching the exact frequency of the Khitomer Cloaking device.”
“The one Donatra gave us?” Valon inquired.
“Yes, the very same. As you know, the cloak disappeared over ten years ago, and we have yet to recover it. However, three days ago, the USS Campbell responded to a Breen distress call and recovered hull fragments of two distinctively different ships. Both Federation in design.”
“Federation? As you suggesting we were behind the attacks on the outposts? Rogue officers? That hasn’t happened in nearly fifteen years. Disturbing thought, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is." She shook her head. "But I don’t believe we did it. This was discussed for a long time and we have reason to believe that Section 31 was behind the attacks. To what end, we still don’t know. To be frank, we’re still not sure its Section 31, but the possibility alone makes it a priority. We have enough to worry about with the Klingons. We don’t need the Typhon Pact breathing down our necks as well.”
“I was under the impression that Section 31 as an organization was crippled by the Borg invasion of -81.” Valon said scratching his head in confusion.
“So were we. But it has always been theorized that a great deal of their agents probably survived--as you know, I am sure."
Valon nodded. "Of course."
"If this indeed is Section 31, it appears that they have used the last thirty years secretly rebuilding their powerbase. Your job is to investigate and confirm. We need to know what the hell is going on. There is a package waiting for you on Cardassia, at the following coordinates. Should be able to push you in the right direction.”
“What are we transporting?” Valon asked. Usually he knew better that to ask, but this time he couldn’t resist.
Alasera’s response could be described as cryptic as best. “It's more of a whom you are transporting.”
Valon nodded respectively, taking her cryptic response as a polite way of saying, ‘none of your business’. “As you wish, ma’am. I’ll take care of it.” He reached for the terminal to terminate the connection but Alasera addressed him again.
“Valon…”
“Yes?”
“I’m telling you this as a friend, not your superior. Try to capture someone alive for once. We need the information. Don’t blow every ship out of the sky.”
Valon's eyebrow shot up, as he cracked a wide, and very un-vulcan smile. “I’ll pass that along to my tactical officer. He’s the guilty one.” He dropped the padd, lifted his right hand and made the V-shaped Vulcan salute. “Peace and long life, Jennifer.”
The admiral returned the salute. “Live long and prosper, Valon.” Then her face disappeared and was replaced by the Federation seal.
With the Admiral’s transmission severed, Valon had time to think. But all he could do was lean back in his seat, and mutter to himself.“What the hell have I gotten myself into…”
After seven minutes of waiting, Valon had finally gathered enough courage to go see her. So, he turned at the intersection and headed for Sulira Sisko’s private quarters. Really, there was nothing private about it since junior officers had to share with at least one other officer. One of the reasons the Trafalgar could have a crew of eight hundred.
It took only a few seconds for Ensign Sisko to respond. Valon had practiced. To introduce himself, to explain why he wanted to meet her, how Valon and Sulira’s parents had been very good friends, how he had arrived only minutes too late to save them…
Then the doors parted and as Jack Donovan was so fond of saying, the shit hit the fan. Everything he had intended to say just went out the window. The young Trill standing in front of him was so far from the minute old infant he had held in his arms, that it felt surreal.
“My god…” He said. “You look just like her.”
Sulira appeared stunned. As would everyone else who opened his or her door to a guest and were met by a statement such as this. “Captain?” she asked. Noticing the four pips on Valon’s collar.
“Your mother, Sulira. You look just like Ezri.” Valon explained. “May I come in?”
“Of course, sir.” She replied a bit ashamed. “Can I get you anything, Vulcan coffee?”
“Raktajino, if it’s not too much to ask.” Valon smiled and took a seat on the couch. “But that is now why I came here. I…”
Sulira returned from the replicator and handed a cup to Valon. “Not at all. Why did you come here, sir?”
“Thanks.” He nodded. “Truthfully,” he pondered the question a moment. “I’m not sure. I wanted to meet you, I suppose. Last time I saw you, you were only days old. Must have been twenty years now.”
Sulira took a seat opposite him. “So you knew my mother. The question remains.” she said flatly. “Sir…” she corrected herself.
“I’m not here as the captain. You don’t have to sir me.” Valon pointed out and took a sip from his coffee. “You said the question remains. I have no good answer for your question. I saw your name on the assignment list and, as I said, I wanted to meet you. Maybe I shouldn’t have come…” he said and began to rise. He put the cup on the table and headed for the door. “Thank you for the coffee.”
The doors had already parted when Sulira spoke again. “You were there. Weren’t you?” she asked. Not with that slightly annoyed tone she had only moments earlier. But kindly. “When she died, I mean.”
Valon turned back. Slightly surprised by the question. “Yes, I was.” He said silently.
“But why…?” Sulira asked. Then, a few moments later, she answered her own question. “You were too late. That’s why you blame yourself.”
“Why would you assume I blame myself?” It wasn’t really a question. He did blame himself. But why she would assume he did?
“That’s what everyone does when they meet me. And I hate it. They made their own choices. Nobody else should blame themselves.”
Valon took a few steps inside her quarters again. “It wasn’t their choice to leave you.” He said. “They loved you very much. You know that, do you? You brought them so much joy, Sulira. They had such plans…”
“Yeah, didn’t turn out well, did it?” she shot back. Valon had suspected from the beginning that something was off. And here was the evidence. He couldn’t really blame her, Valon would have probably reacted similarly. As would anyone else. But he wouldn’t give up.
“Well, you’re alive, aren’t you. I’d say it turned out as well as it could have.”
It took only a few seconds for Ensign Sisko to respond. Valon had practiced. To introduce himself, to explain why he wanted to meet her, how Valon and Sulira’s parents had been very good friends, how he had arrived only minutes too late to save them…
Then the doors parted and as Jack Donovan was so fond of saying, the shit hit the fan. Everything he had intended to say just went out the window. The young Trill standing in front of him was so far from the minute old infant he had held in his arms, that it felt surreal.
“My god…” He said. “You look just like her.”
Sulira appeared stunned. As would everyone else who opened his or her door to a guest and were met by a statement such as this. “Captain?” she asked. Noticing the four pips on Valon’s collar.
“Your mother, Sulira. You look just like Ezri.” Valon explained. “May I come in?”
“Of course, sir.” She replied a bit ashamed. “Can I get you anything, Vulcan coffee?”
“Raktajino, if it’s not too much to ask.” Valon smiled and took a seat on the couch. “But that is now why I came here. I…”
Sulira returned from the replicator and handed a cup to Valon. “Not at all. Why did you come here, sir?”
“Thanks.” He nodded. “Truthfully,” he pondered the question a moment. “I’m not sure. I wanted to meet you, I suppose. Last time I saw you, you were only days old. Must have been twenty years now.”
Sulira took a seat opposite him. “So you knew my mother. The question remains.” she said flatly. “Sir…” she corrected herself.
“I’m not here as the captain. You don’t have to sir me.” Valon pointed out and took a sip from his coffee. “You said the question remains. I have no good answer for your question. I saw your name on the assignment list and, as I said, I wanted to meet you. Maybe I shouldn’t have come…” he said and began to rise. He put the cup on the table and headed for the door. “Thank you for the coffee.”
The doors had already parted when Sulira spoke again. “You were there. Weren’t you?” she asked. Not with that slightly annoyed tone she had only moments earlier. But kindly. “When she died, I mean.”
Valon turned back. Slightly surprised by the question. “Yes, I was.” He said silently.
“But why…?” Sulira asked. Then, a few moments later, she answered her own question. “You were too late. That’s why you blame yourself.”
“Why would you assume I blame myself?” It wasn’t really a question. He did blame himself. But why she would assume he did?
“That’s what everyone does when they meet me. And I hate it. They made their own choices. Nobody else should blame themselves.”
Valon took a few steps inside her quarters again. “It wasn’t their choice to leave you.” He said. “They loved you very much. You know that, do you? You brought them so much joy, Sulira. They had such plans…”
“Yeah, didn’t turn out well, did it?” she shot back. Valon had suspected from the beginning that something was off. And here was the evidence. He couldn’t really blame her, Valon would have probably reacted similarly. As would anyone else. But he wouldn’t give up.
“Well, you’re alive, aren’t you. I’d say it turned out as well as it could have.”
^Excellent scene! So...you intend for Valon and Sulira to meet in the first ep--or do you want me to take the scene and run with it in mine? (I could, if you want--but...)
It's more a question of what the Federation is willing to do to her.
I clearly wouldn't make her flat-out guilty of those things--it's something you'll have to decide for yourself. It's kind of a "What would you have done?" thing--effectively, it's a "soul-searching" story, for the reader as well as the Federation. Your answer to that question should determine the question: Is she guilty or not? Did she do the right thing or not?
I'm struggling hard not to give anything away, but...there are wheels within wheels here, and there are...shadowy things going on behind the scenes....
And, while Ezri would naturally think what she did (which will be specified in time) was justified...still, in her moments of loneliness in her cell, she asks herself where it all went wrong...and whether it might be best that she be found guilty....
I clearly wouldn't make her flat-out guilty of those things--it's something you'll have to decide for yourself. It's kind of a "What would you have done?" thing--effectively, it's a "soul-searching" story, for the reader as well as the Federation. Your answer to that question should determine the question: Is she guilty or not? Did she do the right thing or not?
I'm struggling hard not to give anything away, but...there are wheels within wheels here, and there are...shadowy things going on behind the scenes....
And, while Ezri would naturally think what she did (which will be specified in time) was justified...still, in her moments of loneliness in her cell, she asks herself where it all went wrong...and whether it might be best that she be found guilty....
Well, I was under the impression you were going to write the Dax-Sulira meeting so i figured I can take Valon-Sulira. I was only and idea I had, we can skip it if you guys want. Or you can add it into yours if you want. I write it in a standalone manner so we can have it either way.
Ah, I see. Interesting. I cant wait!
Anyway, things will probably calm down for me now in february. at least the in the end. we're finishing up whatever we have left from the holidays. still have a few priority jobs the emergency services wants done, but after that i'm done with overtime for... well i surely hope forever. (but that will never happen. unfortunately.) so between march and september when i ship out, I'm free for you guys.
It's looking good so far, ares. The meeting between Valon and Sulira was interesting...I can see it working in either your episode or Rushbo's.
I'm looking forward to reading your Ezri-on-trial piece, Rushbo! Sounds great.
I'm looking forward to reading your Ezri-on-trial piece, Rushbo! Sounds great.
*Cough* Damn all this dust... *Cough*
Alright, I know I've been a jerk all this time. But I really have a good explanation. Alright, maybe I don't. Thing is, I've been awfully busy doing, well, pretty much everything.
I built two cars basically from scratch between work and school. IT security isn't as easy as it sounds. And neither is building a 550 bhp racecar and a 400bhp luxury cruiser with a three year old that can get through pretty much any door or window, no matter the amount of locks on it. The Team has officially banned one of our members from the garage. That kid requires constant supervision....
And the time i spent sitting on the train between school and home, (yeah, i'm rectifying the driver license problem shortly) i spent writing by other fanfics. This old soul just slipped deeper and deeper into cyber-oblivion.
But do not despair! BecausePerjon is back!
Its not much, but i've on vacation so I'd say this is pretty good for two weeks of work.
Alright, I know I've been a jerk all this time. But I really have a good explanation. Alright, maybe I don't. Thing is, I've been awfully busy doing, well, pretty much everything.
I built two cars basically from scratch between work and school. IT security isn't as easy as it sounds. And neither is building a 550 bhp racecar and a 400bhp luxury cruiser with a three year old that can get through pretty much any door or window, no matter the amount of locks on it. The Team has officially banned one of our members from the garage. That kid requires constant supervision....
And the time i spent sitting on the train between school and home, (yeah, i'm rectifying the driver license problem shortly) i spent writing by other fanfics. This old soul just slipped deeper and deeper into cyber-oblivion.
But do not despair! BecausePerjon is back!
Its not much, but i've on vacation so I'd say this is pretty good for two weeks of work.
Dax had been pacing the shuttlebay for what seemed like hours while Commander Raitar and her officers attempted to open the alien escape pod. Well it wasn't exactly an escape pod, it had impulse and warp drive after all, but the thing could barely fit a single humanoid, so in Perjon’s book, it was an escape pod. He didn’t notice Valon walking up to him from behind, only when he was addressed did he react.
“What’s the status of the pod, Commander?” Valon said, glancing at his wife who was bending over the pod in a very sexy manner. Despite the power cutter in her hand. Then he forced his eyes off her, None of that when you’re on duty. He scolded himself mentally, “How long will I have to wait to find out who’s the poor soul HQ locked into that warp powered shoe box?”
“Any minute now,” Dax responded, “It looks like the locking mechanism failed and Commander Raitar had to cut it open.” He barely had time to finish the sentence before and angry sounding but muffled voice was heard. Tracing it, he noticed that it had originated from the pod.
It opened slowly and a green had was visible, “I’ll kill the man who designed this damn thing with my bare hands,” he roared and crawled out of the pod.
Dax and the new arrival stared at each other for a long moment before speaking.
“What the hell is this drunken bastard doing here!”
“What the hell is this criminal doing here!”
Valon gave them both an amused glance, “You two know each other, I take it?”
“Yes!”
“No!”
Valon scratched his head, “I see… Conference lounge, both of you.”
The two men followed the captain reluctantly. Both giving the other murderous glances. However, they both straightened themselves when the captain scowled back at them. Once the captain looked away, they were at it again.
You we me one for this mess, Jennifer, he thought and took a seat at the head of the wooden table. This is the last time I’m walking into a Starfleet Intelligence made shit storm. Of all the people you could’ve sent, you send him…
“Gentlemen,” Valon said clearing his throat, “I believe introductions are in order.” He gestured towards the newly freed man, “This is-”
“Orion Criminal Scum, Serial Number six-one-four-two-” Dax began, but fell silent after Valon’s glare.
“Lieutenant Commander Troya Galrisan, Starfleet Intelligence.” Valon finished, Dax gaped.
The Orion stood with an inscrutable mask on his face, saying nothing.
Valon made a swooshing gesture towards Dax, “And this is my first officer Commander Perjon Dax.”
“What an unexpected displeasure, Commander.” Dax said, earning a warning look from Valon.
He turned his attention back to Galrisan and tossed him a pad, “Bring my first officer up to date on the operation. You two will be working together. I’ll be in my ready room.” He shot them both a glare, “Now, children. Behave.” He chided, “Bothof you.”
The doors behind Valon closed.
“You could’ve told me!”
“You could’ve told me!”
“Why?”
“Why?”
Dax sighed and took a seat, remembering Valon’s words, “You first…”
Somebody up there really hated Valon of Shi’Kahr. The Vulcan had always been a maverick by his peoples standards, something other Vulcans despised. But religion had never really interested him. But despite his best efforts, fate, a higher being, or simply bad luck ushered him towards Deck 12. That was 11 decks below his original destination and 10 decks below his quarters. So either way, he wasn’t where he belonged, far from it. And to make matters worse, he was standing at the door of a woman he swore he would never visit.
Bloody great, he cursed mentally. Gee… Thanks Donovan for rubbing off on me.
And then, warily, he rang the door chime, and pulled his hand back like it had been burned. I just had to do that, didn’t I?
It took a few minutes for Ensign Sisko to respond. Valon had practiced. To introduce himself, to explain why he wanted to meet her, how Valon and Sulira’s parents had been very good friends, how he had arrived only minutes too late to save them…
Then the doors parted and as Jack Donovan was so fond of saying, the shit hit the fan. Everything he had intended to say just went out the window. The young Trill standing in front of him was so far from the minute old infant he had held in his arms, that it felt surreal.
“My god…” He gaped. “You look just like her.”
Sulira appeared stunned. As would everyone else who opened his or her door to a guest and were met by a statement such as this. “Captain?” she asked. Noticing the four pips on Valon’s collar.
“Your mother, Sulira. You look just like Ezri.” Valon explained. “May I come in?”
“Of course, sir.” She replied a bit ashamed. “Can I get you anything, Vulcan coffee?”
“Raktajino, if it’s not too much to ask.” Valon smiled and took a seat on the couch. “But that is now why I came here. I…”
Sulira returned from the replicator and handed a cup to Valon. “Not at all. Why did you come here, sir?”
“Thanks.” He nodded. “Truthfully,” he pondered the question a moment. “I’m not sure. I wanted to meet you, I suppose. Last time I saw you, you were only days old. Must have been twenty years now.”
Sulira took a seat opposite him. “So you knew my mother. The question remains.” she said flatly. “Sir…” she corrected herself.
“I’m not here as the captain. You don’t have to sir me.” Valon pointed out and took a sip from his coffee. “You said the question remains. I have no good answer for your question. I saw your name on the assignment list and, as I said, I wanted to meet you. Maybe I shouldn’t have come…” he said and began to rise. He put the cup on the table and headed for the door. “Thank you for the coffee.”
The doors had already parted when Sulira spoke again. “You were there. Weren’t you?” she asked. Not with that slightly annoyed tone she had only moments earlier. But kindly. “When she died, I mean.”
Valon turned back. Slightly surprised by the question. “Yes, I was.” He said silently.
“But why…?” Sulira asked. Then, a few moments later, she answered her own question. “You were too late. That’s why you blame yourself.”
“Why would you assume I blame myself?” It wasn’t really a question. He did blame himself. But why she would assume he did?
“That’s what everyone does when they meet me. And I hate it. They made their own choices and it killed them. Nobody else should blame themselves.”
Valon took a few steps inside her quarters again. “It wasn’t their choice to leave you.” He said. “They loved you very much. You know that, do you? You brought them so much joy, Sulira. They had such plans…”
“Yeah, didn’t turn out well, did it?” she shot back. Valon had suspected from the beginning that something was off. And here was the evidence. He couldn’t really blame her, Valon would have probably reacted similarly. As would anyone else. But he wouldn’t give up.
“Well, you’re alive, aren’t you. I’d say it turned out as well as it could have.”
To that, she had no comeback.
"Tell me," Sulira pleaded after a few moment of silence.
And he did.
“What’s the status of the pod, Commander?” Valon said, glancing at his wife who was bending over the pod in a very sexy manner. Despite the power cutter in her hand. Then he forced his eyes off her, None of that when you’re on duty. He scolded himself mentally, “How long will I have to wait to find out who’s the poor soul HQ locked into that warp powered shoe box?”
“Any minute now,” Dax responded, “It looks like the locking mechanism failed and Commander Raitar had to cut it open.” He barely had time to finish the sentence before and angry sounding but muffled voice was heard. Tracing it, he noticed that it had originated from the pod.
It opened slowly and a green had was visible, “I’ll kill the man who designed this damn thing with my bare hands,” he roared and crawled out of the pod.
Dax and the new arrival stared at each other for a long moment before speaking.
“What the hell is this drunken bastard doing here!”
“What the hell is this criminal doing here!”
Valon gave them both an amused glance, “You two know each other, I take it?”
“Yes!”
“No!”
Valon scratched his head, “I see… Conference lounge, both of you.”
The two men followed the captain reluctantly. Both giving the other murderous glances. However, they both straightened themselves when the captain scowled back at them. Once the captain looked away, they were at it again.
You we me one for this mess, Jennifer, he thought and took a seat at the head of the wooden table. This is the last time I’m walking into a Starfleet Intelligence made shit storm. Of all the people you could’ve sent, you send him…
“Gentlemen,” Valon said clearing his throat, “I believe introductions are in order.” He gestured towards the newly freed man, “This is-”
“Orion Criminal Scum, Serial Number six-one-four-two-” Dax began, but fell silent after Valon’s glare.
“Lieutenant Commander Troya Galrisan, Starfleet Intelligence.” Valon finished, Dax gaped.
The Orion stood with an inscrutable mask on his face, saying nothing.
Valon made a swooshing gesture towards Dax, “And this is my first officer Commander Perjon Dax.”
“What an unexpected displeasure, Commander.” Dax said, earning a warning look from Valon.
He turned his attention back to Galrisan and tossed him a pad, “Bring my first officer up to date on the operation. You two will be working together. I’ll be in my ready room.” He shot them both a glare, “Now, children. Behave.” He chided, “Bothof you.”
The doors behind Valon closed.
“You could’ve told me!”
“You could’ve told me!”
“Why?”
“Why?”
Dax sighed and took a seat, remembering Valon’s words, “You first…”
Somebody up there really hated Valon of Shi’Kahr. The Vulcan had always been a maverick by his peoples standards, something other Vulcans despised. But religion had never really interested him. But despite his best efforts, fate, a higher being, or simply bad luck ushered him towards Deck 12. That was 11 decks below his original destination and 10 decks below his quarters. So either way, he wasn’t where he belonged, far from it. And to make matters worse, he was standing at the door of a woman he swore he would never visit.
Bloody great, he cursed mentally. Gee… Thanks Donovan for rubbing off on me.
And then, warily, he rang the door chime, and pulled his hand back like it had been burned. I just had to do that, didn’t I?
It took a few minutes for Ensign Sisko to respond. Valon had practiced. To introduce himself, to explain why he wanted to meet her, how Valon and Sulira’s parents had been very good friends, how he had arrived only minutes too late to save them…
Then the doors parted and as Jack Donovan was so fond of saying, the shit hit the fan. Everything he had intended to say just went out the window. The young Trill standing in front of him was so far from the minute old infant he had held in his arms, that it felt surreal.
“My god…” He gaped. “You look just like her.”
Sulira appeared stunned. As would everyone else who opened his or her door to a guest and were met by a statement such as this. “Captain?” she asked. Noticing the four pips on Valon’s collar.
“Your mother, Sulira. You look just like Ezri.” Valon explained. “May I come in?”
“Of course, sir.” She replied a bit ashamed. “Can I get you anything, Vulcan coffee?”
“Raktajino, if it’s not too much to ask.” Valon smiled and took a seat on the couch. “But that is now why I came here. I…”
Sulira returned from the replicator and handed a cup to Valon. “Not at all. Why did you come here, sir?”
“Thanks.” He nodded. “Truthfully,” he pondered the question a moment. “I’m not sure. I wanted to meet you, I suppose. Last time I saw you, you were only days old. Must have been twenty years now.”
Sulira took a seat opposite him. “So you knew my mother. The question remains.” she said flatly. “Sir…” she corrected herself.
“I’m not here as the captain. You don’t have to sir me.” Valon pointed out and took a sip from his coffee. “You said the question remains. I have no good answer for your question. I saw your name on the assignment list and, as I said, I wanted to meet you. Maybe I shouldn’t have come…” he said and began to rise. He put the cup on the table and headed for the door. “Thank you for the coffee.”
The doors had already parted when Sulira spoke again. “You were there. Weren’t you?” she asked. Not with that slightly annoyed tone she had only moments earlier. But kindly. “When she died, I mean.”
Valon turned back. Slightly surprised by the question. “Yes, I was.” He said silently.
“But why…?” Sulira asked. Then, a few moments later, she answered her own question. “You were too late. That’s why you blame yourself.”
“Why would you assume I blame myself?” It wasn’t really a question. He did blame himself. But why she would assume he did?
“That’s what everyone does when they meet me. And I hate it. They made their own choices and it killed them. Nobody else should blame themselves.”
Valon took a few steps inside her quarters again. “It wasn’t their choice to leave you.” He said. “They loved you very much. You know that, do you? You brought them so much joy, Sulira. They had such plans…”
“Yeah, didn’t turn out well, did it?” she shot back. Valon had suspected from the beginning that something was off. And here was the evidence. He couldn’t really blame her, Valon would have probably reacted similarly. As would anyone else. But he wouldn’t give up.
“Well, you’re alive, aren’t you. I’d say it turned out as well as it could have.”
To that, she had no comeback.
"Tell me," Sulira pleaded after a few moment of silence.
And he did.
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