Team Bajor pt5

Posted on Tue Sep 30th, 2025 @ 12:55am by Remal Kajun & Captain Rhenora Kaylen & Commander Savar cha'Salik hei-Surak Talek-sen-deen & Lieutenant Commander Aurora Vali

1,454 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: For Bajor!
Location: Bajor
Timeline: Current

The shuttle lurched out of Bajor’s atmosphere, shaking just enough to remind its passengers that Yitka’s promises of “smooth flight” were optimistic at best. Out the mismatched windows, the velvet black of space spread wide, punctuated by the gleaming lattice of the weather satellite network. Each satellite hung in its orbit like a lantern in the dark, their slow rotations casting slivers of reflected sunlight across the shuttle’s patched hull.

“On your left,” Yitka announced in his mock-tour-guide voice, one hand theatrically gesturing at the array, “you’ll see Bajor’s pride and joy: the storm wardens! Each one carefully calibrated to ensure you never get rained on when you don’t want to.” His grin widened as the shuttle banked closer, far closer than any sightseer shuttle had business being. “And if you squint, you’ll notice that little access hatch just begging for company. Don’t worry, folks, I’ve taken this shortcut before.”

Behind the levity, the hum of tension grew. Zio kept her gaze on the sensors, fingers brushing the hidden tools in her pocket, while Remal leaned casually back in his seat, eyes sharp despite the smirk on his face. To anyone listening, it was just another eccentric tour guide showing off Bajor’s orbiting marvels. To those in the shuttle, it was the beginning of a break-in, wrapped in the laughable trappings of a holiday jaunt.

"This isn't your first rodeo" Rhen observed as Yikta prattled, wondering who else he had brought up to the satellites. "Who else has been here in the past 18 months, off the record of course?"

Yitka’s eyes twinkled at Rhen’s jab, though he didn’t miss the edge of the question. He leaned back in the pilot’s chair, one hand lazily tapping the side console as if it were an old drum. “Off the record?” he repeated, drawing the words out like he was savoring them. “Well, now, that depends on what you call a ‘rodeo.’ Some come for sightseeing, some for scavenging, some for… shall we say, extracurricular tinkering.” He tilted his head, half an ear catching in the glow of the instrument panel. “Let’s just say these satellites get more visitors than the official logs would like you to believe.”

With a sly grin, he gestured vaguely out the viewport toward the glimmering array. “In the last year and a half? A couple of engineers curious about repurposing old components. One or two smugglers looking for blind spots in the network. And once,” he chuckled, “a gaggle of university kids who thought hacking a satellite would earn them extra credit in orbital mechanics. I let ‘em think they were geniuses while I made sure nothing went kaboom. Off the record, of course. Officially, I’m just the eccentric with a shuttle and a knack for keeping secrets.”

"Secrets are fine if the entire planet isn't starving to death," Rhenora replied ironically, knowing that Yikta would only spill the beans if it suited his needs. "That one, can we board it and look around?" She pointed to the master control satellite.

He looked out the window at where she was pointing over his shoulder. "Aye, the Master Control. We can... well, well..." He nodded as their shuttle circled the satellite in an upward arc until the Airlocks were visible. "Looks like someone is already docked. Maintenance shuttle by the look of em'."

Remal leaned over and peered out the window to try and get a better look. The shuttle in question had minimal markings to identify it or where it hailed from at a glance. "You got any real weapons on this crate?" He asked.

"A tourist with a weapon isn't really a thing mate. Lucky for you, ole Yitka never travels without support." He flipped a lever on the dash and a hatch in the floor opened to reveal a selection of weapons of all sorts. "Just know, the walls in them things are paper thin. I wouldn't go shooting unless you intend to kill your target. If'in you get me?"

"Are these...." Rhenora didn't bother even finishing the question. The ancient Bajoran and rusty Cardassian weapons were undoubtedly from the Resistance. Would the power cells even still work or were they more likely to blow up in their faces? She picked up one of the Cardassian pistols and checked the charge. It appeared full, at least that was something.

Savar and Aurora had also boarded the shuttle and listened to Yitka prattle. he raised an eyebrow at the condition of the weapons but made no comment other than "Pass a weapon to Aurora and myself please." If nothing else he could throw the ancient and rusty weapon at someone

Rhenora tossed them each a weapon, picking the best of the bad bunch. She shoved one into her own pocket, hoping she wouldn't have to use it. They prepared to dock and the team readied themselves for whatever the Prophets were going to throw at them.

Savar did a quick exam of the weapon before he stuffed it in his pocket. He was hopeful he would not need to use it and if he did that it wouldn't explode in his face.

The shuttle spun around until the docking ring and the rear hatch aligned, and then moved slowly until there was a metallic crunching sound against the hull. Yitka didn't so much as flinch, they knew what they had signed up for. As the seal connected there was a subtle hiss and a click to indicate the hatch was secured and air tight. He set the shuttle in station keeping and rolled out of his seat into a standing position.

"Alright lasses and lads, the masterpiece of the tour." He opened the hatch, revealing a barely lit interior. "I give you the Master Weather Warden. Watch your head, and your asses as you proceed." He hobbled forward into the tunnel and onto the Satellite as a real tour guide would, then stood back and waited for each of his passengers to disembark.

Each stowed their weapons in a concealed pocket or satchel, appearing ever the curious tourist. Rhenora drew her hood up, concealing her face from casual observation lest she be recognized. They stepped onto the satellite and appeared to be casual, interested even in the prattle the Yikta was driveling on about. Ahead they could hear voices.

Aurora remained at Savar’s side, she didn’t like this but she wanted to help Rhenora and the Bajoran people. Her weapon was stowed where it would be handy if she had to use it, not that she wanted to.

Savar walked with Aurora at his side as they followed the others. His eyes sweeping the area for anything out of the ordinary.

Maintaining a few steps ahead, Yitka lead the group up a skinny flight of stairs to a doorway that opened up into the Master Control Room. The Master Weather Warden’s control room should have been humming with the low, steady rhythm of automated systems and the occasional flicker of console readouts. Instead, the place looked like a tool kit had exploded, panels pulled open, wires exposed, strangers in grease-smeared overalls crouched where no maintenance team should have been. Yitka paused in the doorway, tour group in tow, and let out a long, low whistle.

“Well now,” he drawled, hands settling on his hips as if he owned the station. “Last I checked, the Warden didn’t schedule a tune-up this century, let alone today. Funny thing is...” he leaned against the bulkhead, grinning wide enough to flash the gap in his teeth, “...every nut and bolt in this bird has a story, and I don’t recall any of you in the cast.”

One of the impostors looked up, spanner frozen mid-turn. Yitka waggled a finger at the open access panel. “Careful there, junior. You cross that yellow wire with the green, and this whole wing will start thinking it’s controlling a thunderstorm over Lakarian City. And trust me, you don’t want Bajorans blaming you for a drought breaking the wrong way.” His voice was playful, but his eyes stayed sharp, daring them to challenge his knowledge or his authority as the loudest man in the room.

Rhenora casually put her hand in her pocket, curling around her weapon and preparing to draw it if necessary.

"Is the maintenance always done like this? Or is this some kind of major overhaul?" She asked innocently, as though they were merely curious tourists.

Remal was close but trapped on the staircase. He didn't know much about weather satellite maintenance, but he knew when something smelled wrong. This was wrong.

TBC

 

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