Team Bajor - 7
Posted on Thu Oct 9th, 2025 @ 9:24pm by Captain Rhenora Kaylen & Commander Savar cha'Salik hei-Surak Talek-sen-deen & Lieutenant Commander Aurora Vali & Remal Kajun
2,049 words; about a 10 minute read
Mission:
For Bajor!
Location: Master Satellite Warden
Master Satellite Warden
Yitka dove into the mess the saboteurs had left, grumbling the whole way. Burnt relays, crossed wiring harnesses, half a console jury-rigged with chewing gum logic—he clicked his tongue like a disappointed schoolmaster. “Sloppy, sloppy. If you’re going to break the Wardens, at least do it with a little artistry,” he muttered, yanking out the black box and tossing it aside like spoiled fruit.
The next half-hour was a blur of muttering and mayhem. Yitka was on his back under the console, boots kicking as sparks rained. Then up on a ladder, elbow-deep in wiring, singing an old spacer’s ballad out of tune. At one point, he emerged triumphantly holding three “extra” screws in his palm. “Never a good sign when she gives parts back,” he quipped, and pocketed them like souvenirs. Tools clinked, wires sizzled, alarms blared and were promptly silenced with a good thump of his fist.
Half an hour later, Yitka clapped his hands together, soot smudging his cheek. “Right then—time to see if she still remembers how to sing.” With exaggerated ceremony, he yanked a lever and smacked the console twice for luck. The satellite shuddered awake, groaning like an old drunk asked to sing again, and outside the first lazy curls of cloud gathered in the upper atmosphere. Yitka leaned on the console, cocky as a showman. “There we are. If anyone’s hiding down there, they’re about to get very, very wet.”
"Only you could make rain sound so suggestive" Rhenora snorted as the satellite creaked and groaned to life. Unfamiliar with this grade of system she had relegated herself to handing Yikta tools and trying to figure out the controls, which of course made no sense to anyone but Yikta. But if there was rain, blessed be the Prophets she would dance on it.
Savar watched in silence as Yitka worked his magic on the Warden. If he could coax it create rain that would be a blessing for those below on the surface.
Minutes passed as the storm clouds continued to build below. The satellite control chamber still smelled faintly of scorched wiring when the comm panel came alive with a harsh crackle. A face did not appear, only a voice—sharp, commanding, and laced with entitlement.
“Report. I paid you handsomely to keep those satellites offline. Bajor must remain barren if we are to have order. Hungry people are a pliant people. Tell me the backups are ash, the virus planted, and that no one suspects.”
A silence hung in the room. The conscious saboteur glared mutely from the floor. Yitka, of course, was the first to react. “Well now,” he drawled, striding to the console with the flourish of a stage performer about to announce tonight’s main act. “Depends on your definition of ash, doesn’t it? Sparks and smoke, aye—but last I checked, this fine old bird still makes rain like a tavern makes drunks. In fact, you might say she’s in better shape than before. Almost as if someone competent were fixing her.”
The line went still. Then: “…Who is this? You are not my men.”
Yitka leaned down toward the comm, grinning like he had all the time in the quadrant. “Oh, don’t pout, love. Tour groups need entertainment, and you’ve just provided the opening act. Now the real question is, who exactly do we send the bill to for this little attempted sabotage? Rain dances don’t come cheap, you know.” Whoever was on the other end of the line had just pulled back the curtain, and there was no way Yitka was letting them push it closed again without a little theater.
Rhenora remained behind Yitka, out of the center of view but still able to see the monitor. Behind her, the screens showed a rapid buildup of cloud that promised to be the mother of all downpours, censured over their home province but spreading to the entire hemisphere. She couldn't recognise the face of this master puppet, but instead moved to the side to trace the location of the call.
The voice on the comm hissed back, tight with barely checked fury.
“You insolent old fool. Do you have any idea what you’ve meddled in? That system was bought and paid for with more latinum than your entire family line has ever seen. You think rain will save Bajor? It will drown her—flood her with chaos, rebellion, and false hope. Shut it down. Now. Or I promise you, the storm that follows will make your little performance look like a summer drizzle.”
Yitka spread his arms like a carnival barker, leaning dangerously close to the comm.
“Well now, that was a speech, wasn’t it? ‘Drown her in chaos, false hope,’ all very dramatic. You ought to charge admission—people pay good money for that sort of doom-and-gloom theater.” He tapped the console with a knuckle, eyes flicking to Rhenora behind him, stalling for every second.
“Here’s the problem, friend: you ask me to shut her down, but she’s singing sweeter than a jumja stick vendor on festival day. Would be a shame to silence her just when she’s found her rhythm. So why don’t you tell us a little more about this grand storm of yours while I… ah, pretend to look for the off switch?”
He winked at the others, voice dripping with mockery as his fingers danced uselessly over harmless controls.
The voice snapped back, sharper now, the patience unraveling.
“Enough of your games! Do you think I don’t hear the mockery in your voice? That station was meant to break Bajor’s will. Famine is leverage, hunger makes leaders crawl, makes prophets silent, makes the people beg. If those satellites keep spewing rain across the provinces, the balance of power will tip, and decades of careful planning will be undone.”
A hiss of breath, then: “You have no idea the forces you’re crossing. Shut. Them. Down.”
Rhenora tracked the call to the highly congested Bajoran Public Access Network, bounced off 3 different satellites, and was currently pinging somewhere in the northern hemisphere. Whoever was behind this was good. She narrowed down the province and the village and was about to get exact coordinates when the panel blew out in front of her.
Laughing could be heard from the small screen.
Savar listened and watched as Yitka attempted to drag out the conversation with the unseen puppet master. he could see the storm clouds gathering both literally and figuratively over Bajor. Then a panel blew out. "Interesting and informative. It appears a well financed and powerful player is in the mix. Were you able to determine where the call originated from, Rhenora?"
Wiping singed eyebrows from her skin, Rhenora shook her head without saying a word.
"You'll never find me, or those that pay my way. This is for the good of Bajor; many fewer will die this way!" The man on the monitor laughed before closing the channel.
The Captain drew a breath. "I got within 30kms of his signal. There's not much up that way, so it shouldn't be too hard to track."
"I can check the logs on the maintenance shuttle. Maybe they can get us closer." Zio announced and headed off towards the other docking port where the maintenance shuttle still sat silent.
Remal walked up and clapped Yitka on the shoulder. "Do you think you could reset the satellites back to normal. We don't want to flood everyone out or anything, but we do need our rain back." He took a breath, "And then would you be willing and able to deliver us into the lap of our enemy?"
Yitka’s gaze lingered on the darkened screen long after the signal had ended. The flicker of light still danced in his eyes as though he were trying to will it back to life.
His words came low, almost reverent. “He speaks of sacrifice as though it were glory… and of death as though Bajor hasn’t already paid its due a hundredfold.” He drew in a slow, steady breath. “I stopped fighting a long time ago, Remal. But I never stopped watching. Never stopped remembering.”
He turned toward the viewport where storm clouds still churned at the edge of the horizon. “I’ll set the satellites right. Bajor deserves its rain.” A pause — then a faint, grim smile. “And when that’s done… I’ll take you where the ghosts still whisper. The lap of our enemy, if that’s what you call it. Just don’t expect me to pray for mercy when we arrive.”
Remal studied the older man in silence. There was a solemn dignity in Yitka’s stillness — the kind born from years of loss and endurance. His voice might have carried resignation, but Remal could feel the pulse of something fiercer beneath it: anger, pride, maybe even love for a world that had taken everything from him and yet still held his heart.
Remal gave a faint nod, the corner of his mouth tightening. “Then let’s make sure your watch wasn’t for nothing.”
The machinery hummed to life once more as Yitka deftly manipulated the controls, intermixed with the occasional boot to the control frame when it refused to do its bidding.
On the monitor below Rhenora watched the dark thunderheads lower in their vertical structure but remain waterlogged, promising a steady rain event but no longer destructive.
"Blessed be Yitka, you did it" she whispered as the first rain in months descended onto their homeland. It was an odd feeling, getting excited about rain, but they understood the physical and psychological importance of it to their people right now. This would give them hope.
Savar stood alongside Aurora and Rhenora as the first drops of rain began to fall on the parched Bajoran landscape. Which drank up the life giving liquid like a thirsty man drinks it..... hungrily worried about not getting enough. He nodded in approval at the rain as it fell the opening act in the upcoming drama.
"Now, shall we offload these saboteurs and make for the north?" Rhenora raised what was left of an eyebrow at her team.
"Both a prudent and logical decision." Savar answered. "Where exactly do you intend to offload these saboteurs? Can we trust the government officials to hold and prosecute them?"
"We can only hope. Now that the rain is falling and we have those at least partially responsible, I think we can hand them over to the local authorities. What happens to them after this is inconsequential, we need to find the puppet master. Yitka, can lock down down the controls into a normal weather pattern for the time being so this doesn't happen again?" Rhenora turned to the crusty jack of all trades.
"Yeah, I can do that." Yitka declared with confidence. He flicked a few switches and used the terminal to enter a string of numbers reminiscent of a code. Then he pressed a control button and the system chirped to acknowledge it's response. "She'll hum for a while. Smart enough to know when to stop, the ole' girl. The only thing that would stop her now would be a physical intervention. So unless they plan on blowing her out of the sky..." He left the thought hanging.
"You know our puppet master will be expecting us to come for him." Remal said looking at Rhenora with his familiar, you know what we're getting ourselves into again right?
Zio stepped up the ladder, "I've got coordinates, or at least close, But..." She stopped just shy of spilling the details. "You're not going to like it."
"Zio, do not keep us waiting. Where do the coordinates lead, and what is it we are not going to like?" Savar asked with his typical Vulcan directness.
"There's always a but" Rhenora laughed as they collected their things, watching the rains fall on the parched planet below them. "It's hot? It's cold... it's????"
"It's Ashalla," Zio said simply about the Capital City of Bajor. "Parliament to be exact." Her jawline flexed at the suggestion that their target was in the heart of their Government center.
TBC
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