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.
