Team Bajor - 11

Posted on Sun Nov 2nd, 2025 @ 9:26pm by Remal Kajun & Captain Rhenora Kaylen & Commander Savar cha'Salik hei-Surak Talek-sen-deen & Lieutenant Commander Aurora Vali

2,791 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: For Bajor!
Location: Below Ashalla
Timeline: Current

They followed her through.

The air grew warmer, cleaner somehow, tinged with fake ozone and the faint scent of machinery at work. Above, the ceiling was not stone but glass, or what remained of it. Great fractured panes framed the ashen sky above Ashalla. The rain had stopped. Droplets still clung to the surface, trembling in suspended silence, as if waiting for permission to fall again.

The room itself was half war room, half sanctum. Consoles lined the walls in neat arcs, their soft amber lights flickering over worn Bajoran script. A single dais stood at the far end, its edge rimmed in gold plating scavenged from the old provisional government halls.

And there, standing at its center — was Vekar Dane.

He did not rise to greet them. He didn’t need to. His presence filled the room like the gravity of a dying star, quiet but absolute. The years had carved his face into sharp relief, and his robes, not priestly, not military, but something that pretended to both, shimmered faintly with dust and damp.

When he finally spoke, it was soft, deliberate, the kind of tone that made others lean in without realizing they’d done so. “Welcome, children of the storm,” he said, hands clasped behind his back as he looked from one to the next. “You’ve come far to meet the man who turned off the rain.”

For a heartbeat, no one moved. The only sound was the distant hum of the machinery embedded deep within the chamber walls, the pulse of power flowing through cables older than any of them.

Bonnie stopped just short of the dais. Her smirk lingered a moment longer than her words, then she dipped into a shallow, theatrical bow, more mockery than respect. “Your guests, my lord,” she purred, before straightening and stepping aside. Without another word, she melted into the periphery. The shadows of the great chamber seemed to swallow her whole, her boots silent, her presence dissolving like smoke until even her smirk was gone.

Vekar Dane remained motionless at the dais, his gaze lifted briefly toward the fractured glass above. The light filtering through it was pale, uncertain, like dawn hesitating to arrive. Then his eyes lowered again, catching the reflection of each intruder in turn, measuring them as one might study pawns already in motion. Still, he did not speak. He simply watched, letting the silence return, deliberate, heavy, commanding. The kind of silence that made others reveal themselves first.

Savar stood silent as they stood in front of Vekar Dane. Aurora was next to him with Rhenora and the others on either side of him. His eyes followed Dane, tracked him as he moved about and talked. He saw Bonnie melt away back into the shadows as if she was never there. He knew when Dane lapsed into silence he was testing the group, it was a childish game to see who would break or yield first yet it carried deadly consequences. He was content to let Dane talk for the more he talked the more was the hope or chance that he would reveal more of his plans to the group.

Rhenora stood proudly, her short stature made up by the presence she carried with her. She slipped the hood from her face, allowing it to slide behind and gather with a whisper of material at the base of her neck.
"You are the one who stopped the rain?" She asked evenly, her gaze solid to meet the man in the chair.

Vekar didn’t rise to greet her — power never needed to stand. Instead, he smiled the kind of smile that could split a sermon in half.

“The one who stopped the rain,” he echoed softly, as though tasting the words. “No… I merely asked it to wait. Bajor’s soil had grown complacent, its people fat on mercy. Rain is meant to cleanse, not cradle.”

He leaned forward, hands folding on the polished surface before him. Behind him, the glass ceiling flickered with faint light — the heavy clouds above roiling, motionless, as though held at bay by unseen hands.

“I gave them hunger so they would remember gratitude,” he said, his voice deep and deliberate, steeped in the rhetoric of conviction. “And I gave them thirst so they would remember the taste of faith.”

Then, the faintest glimmer of derision tugged at his tone. “But tell me, Starfleet, when did you last do anything for Bajor that did not begin with pity and end with policy?”

"I died for Bajor," she said simply, him obviously knowing who she was now. "A dear friend gave her life for mine, although I think the Prophets may be regretting that choice right about now," Rhenora replied. "I gave hope in a battle between the light and the darkness so that the light could prevail and the darkness withered. It seems, however, a new darkness has emerged in its place."

Vekar’s voice slid through the chamber, almost gentle. “So the tales were true… the mother of miracles walks again. A woman who died for Bajor, and returned to preach its salvation.”

He descended a step from the dais, the light fracturing across the glass ceiling as the rainless sky above shifted. “Tell me, Rhenora Kaylen — when your heart stopped, did you see your Prophets? Did they whisper that your suffering had meaning?”

He smiled then, not kindly. “I have seen too many martyrs rise from their graves, each one certain their pain would make Bajor whole. In some way, we've all died for Bajor. Yet here we are, still starving, still praying, still killing in the name of light and shadow. Tell me, how many more of us must die for your Prophets to feel satisfied?”

For a long heartbeat, no one spoke. The sound of distant machinery filled the space, steady as a pulse beneath the city.

Yitka shifted where he stood, his half-ear catching the dim light. “You talk like a man who’s never been saved by anything but himself,” he said, voice gravel rough. “Maybe that’s why you think the rest of us can’t be.” He gave a tired chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes. “Faith’s not a leash, boy, it’s a reason to keep breathing when the air stinks of death.”

Remal stepped forward before the moment could sour further, his tone even, practiced, a medic’s calm amid fire. “You speak of hunger and pain as though they’re tools, something to sharpen people into obedience. But there’s nothing noble about suffering, Vekar. It doesn’t make Bajor stronger. It just makes Bajor smaller.”

The words hung there, swallowed by the silence that followed — the kind that decided whether a room would burn or listen.

"Bajor starves because tyrants use it for control. You condemn the Prophets, yet here you are in the shadows, punishing an entire world to bend it to your will. What makes you any better than the Cardassians?" Rhenora stepped forward, defiance shining brightly in her eyes."There was a time, before the power-hungry tried to rule and the Cardassians tried to rape us, that we lived in peace and prosperity, united in our faith and blessed with abundance. You think you can do better? Or do you care nothing for the suffering of our people?"

Vekar’s silhouette shifted, his head tilting as though he weighed her words with genuine consideration. The air itself seemed to ease, a subtle pressure lifting from the chamber, a sigh in the stone. “Peace and prosperity…” he murmured, almost wistful. “You speak of them as though they were blessings, not poisons. I, too, remember a time when Bajor sang to the stars, before faith became a chain, before the rains turned men soft.”

He stepped forward into the half-light, the harsh edge in his tone softening to something almost sorrowful.
“Perhaps you are right, Rhenora. Perhaps I have been cruel. Perhaps mercy still has its place… somewhere.”

The silence that followed stretched too long, too heavy. Then his voice darkened, quiet but cutting.
“You know, in my world, you never found mercy. You did not rise again. You joined me, your fire turned to discipline, your faith to purpose. We built order together, and Bajor did not drown in prayer.”

He smiled faintly, the expression barely humane in the dim light. “So tell me, Rhenora, which of us do the Prophets favor now?”

Savar listened attentively to the conversation around him as the words were volleyed back and forth like a tennis ball he had seen on a holovid. To him Vekar was mad, not just in his quest for power but in his views on Bajor and its people. He viewed them as less than people and more as playthings and that made him dangerous as he cared nothing about spilling blood and taking lives.

"You do not belong in this universe. You do not belong here" Rhenora said carefully, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. She recalled the update from Commander Baldric that mentioned a possible mirror universe incursion, it all now made sense.

"What do you plan to accomplish here? Apart from decimating and starving our people? Power? Glory? Immortality?" She challenged, stepping forward to meet him head on. "You will not be allowed to succeed."

Savar stepped up beside Rhenora, and addressed Vekar Dane, "Your mad plan to subjugate the people of Bajor and make it and them your own kingdom will not succeed."

Vekar’s expression didn’t shift, not a flicker, not a twitch,as their accusations filled the air like static. When he finally spoke, his tone was quieter than before, almost patient, as though explaining truth to children. “What do I plan to accomplish?” he echoed softly. “You mistake me for a conqueror. Conquerors build monuments, carve their names into stone. I have no need of stone.”

He took a few steps closer, hands clasped behind his back, face now dangerously close to Rhenora's. “I seek permanence of a different kind, balance through deprivation, unity through dependence. A world made whole not by plenty, but by the precision of its hunger. The weak starve, the faithful obey, and the strong… the strong endure." He paused dramatically. "That is my kingdom.”

The chamber fell utterly still, his words echoing off the vaulted brick and glass. He seemed almost serene, until Bonnie moved from the shadows, silently, and leaned close, murmuring into his ear.

Something cold flickered behind his eyes. His jaw flexed, a muscle jumping once, twice. Then he inhaled sharply through his nose and straightened, all the warmth bled from his tone. “It would seem,” he said, voice tightening around each syllable, “our discourse must end sooner than I had hoped.”

A thin, humorless smile followed. “You’ve given me much to consider, faith, justice, mercy. Such quaint ornaments of dying civilizations. I thank you, sincerely, for the… stimulating exchange.”

He turned his back on them, the shadows swallowing his figure as he added, almost absently, “Enjoy the walk back to your sewer.”

"How do you plan to control the drought now the master satellite has been blown out of the sky? The rain that falls now is natural, and will fall back into its rhythm without someone pulling the strings from above." Rhenora refused to budge, holding her ground despite the obvious statement for them to move it.

Vekar stopped mid-stride, spine stiffening. For a long, silent beat, he didn’t turn, just stood there, hands clenched behind his back, the veins rising under the skin. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low rasp, every word sharpened to a blade’s edge. “So,” he said slowly, “that was the noise that rattled my sky…”

He turned then, and the mask of civility was gone. His expression twisted, half fury, half disbelief, the outrage of a man whose order had been violated.

“You tamper with balance you cannot comprehend. That satellite was not a weapon, it was the spine of a system that held this fragile world in place. You think the rain will save Bajor?” His tone rose, jagged now. “No. The rains will drown it. The floods will come, the rivers will break their beds, and your precious fields will rot where they stand. All because you could not leave well enough alone.”

He stepped closer to the light, face carved in shadow and rage. “The one responsible for that… mess in orbit, will be dealt with accordingly. A debt unpaid, a lesson unfinished.” His mouth curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I had use for him once. Now I have need of an example.”

Yitka stepped forward, the grin gone from his face for the first time that night. His voice came low and rough, the showman stripped away, leaving only the man who’d spent a lifetime coaxing temperamental machines back to life. “You call it a mess,” he said, eyes fixed on Dane, “but those hulks in the sky were promises — promises to farmers with empty granaries, to mothers who’d sleep better knowing the crops might sprout. You tore a promise out of the heavens and then called it balance. That’s not order, that’s cruelty.”

He spat once on the floor, a small, contemptuous sound. “You can make an example of the brute who fired the shot. Burn him, break him, parade his bones if it soothes you. But don’t make him the scapegoat for a plan you cooked up yourself. If you want an example, look in a mirror, Vekar. See the man who thinks starving a people is a policy.”

Yitka’s hand drifted to the patched side of his jacket, fingers brushing where his old disruptor had been. He didn’t reach for it. Instead he bowed his head just the slightest fraction, more in defiance than respect. “And one more thing — my birds aren’t your toys. Keep your hands off the sky.”

For a moment, the silence between them seemed to hum with static, until he exhaled through his nose and smoothed his collar, composure returning like a curtain drawn back over a storm. “Enough.” He flicked two fingers toward the doorway. “Bonnie, be a dear… and see our guests out.”

Bonnie inclined her head, a slow, mocking bow, then turned toward the group with a predatory grin. “You heard the man,” she said sweetly. “This way. Let’s not make this any messier than it already is.”

Rhenora took in the smirk and the stature and knew this wasn't going to end well. They had mostly disarmed themselves, bar a few very well-concealed small blades and their bare hands. MU Bonnie, however, was better armed than all of them together.

"Let us take our leave, and let Bajor rejoice in the failure of another tyrant," she said loudly as she turned and headed towards the door from which they had entered, knowing her words would have landed precisely as she had intended.

Savar started to follow, but then stopped and changed direction as he headed for the metal crate and where he had placed his phaser. He was curious to see the reaction of MU Bonnie and even Dane. Learning about one's foes was always a key to any Intel.

Savar’s hand had already closed around the lip of the crate when a blade swept across the air and stopped a hair’s breadth from his throat. Bonnie was there in an instant, dagger flattened against his skin, her other hand braced on the crate as if she’d been expecting the motion all along. The move was clean, practiced, the work of someone who’d learned how to read intent before words were spoken.

“Curiosity will get you killed, academic,” she whispered, too soft for anyone but Savar to hear. Her eyes glittered with amusement and threat both. “We asked you to disarm. Hands where I can see them.”

Vekar’s voice slid through the hush like oil. “A prudent reminder,” he said, watching not unkindly. His gaze flicked from Bonnie to Savar and back again, tasting the moment like a connoisseur. “We do not tolerate surprises here.”

Bonnie let Savar breathe after a tight, measured second, easing the blade back enough to let him move without losing face. “Good,” she said, straightening and slipping the dagger home. “Now, out. The sooner you leave, the cleaner I can be about the mess you make on your way back to the light.”

Outside, the shadows where MU Coy and the Nausicaan waited remained motionless, their entrances postponed but imminent, a promise that whatever came next would not be simple.

TBC

 

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