What We Learned on Deep Space Nine – Star Trek Fanfiction (Red Directive #02)

 

Captain’s Log — Classified Log
Stardate 46379.5

It’s only oh eight hundred hours, but today already feels like one of the longest days of my life.

The morning started with a meeting of my entire senior staff in the Conference Room of Ops so we could be debriefed on our Red Directive Mission by Commander Sisko.

Considering the diversity of my crew members, I thought the briefing went very well.

My new first officer, Commander T’Varen, took advantage of meeting me at the mission briefing to Vulcan her way into becoming my tour guide for my second day on Deep Space Nine.

At first I was dreading spending the entire day alone with a female Vulcan, but it actually wasn’t so bad. Today must feel so long because of all the excitement during my Vulcanesque tour.

After we left Ops, we rode the turbolift down to the Promenade.

The station was always a hustle and bustle of species active at all hours.

Since Commander T’Varen had apparently been serving with Commander Sisko as his Command Specialist for the past six months, I let her lead the way.

Wherever she was taking us led back through the Promenade ring into the many vendor shops built into the curved walls.

We passed a curiosity shop near one of the large viewports that looked out toward the wormhole. It sold things like star charts, alien tools, strange sculptures, and antique navigation equipment. The merchant even displayed a collection of unfamiliar “Gamma Quadrant artifacts” behind a transparent case.

Right next to it was a religious and cultural vendor.

A little contradictory if you ask me — but it also showed that differences in personal beliefs were not a problem on this station.

What really surprised me was when Commander T’Varen pulled me toward a vendor standing in the middle of the Promenade holding a tray of food on a stick I’d never seen before, shouting:

“Fresh jumja sticks!”

Commander T’Varen said it was a guilty pleasure she had developed over the last six months for special occasions — and she felt today was one of those times.

I agreed and decided to try one.

When you join Starfleet, you accept the reality that you may never come back from missions into the unknown. A Red Directive Mission raises the stakes even higher.

For all I knew, this could be my last night on Deep Space Nine.

The vendor handed us each a jumja stick. It felt much larger in my hand than I expected — an oversized amber-colored spiral helix of sticky candy.

After examining it for a few moments and wondering what appeal the Vulcan saw in it, Commander T’Varen finally explained.

It was an extremely sweet, chewy candy made from the Bajoran jumja plant. She told me the best way to eat it was simply to bite pieces off.

The texture reminded me of taffy, so it made sense.

I finally gave it a try.

To my surprise, it tasted like caramelized sugar with a hint of honey. Not what I would have expected based on its appearance.

We both smiled and continued our tour, jumja sticks in hand, taking occasional bites as we walked.

I was glad this was one of the first stops of the tour. It allowed me to avoid conversation a little longer.

Eventually I found a small technology kiosk along the Promenade and spent a little more time there than I probably should have.

The stall displayed tricorder accessories, personal transport buffers, data rods, and communicator components.

When we arrived, the vendor — a Bolian merchant — was in the middle of arguing with a customer about the price of a refurbished tricorder module.

Perfect timing for me.

As I mentioned earlier, I did not have latinum, which is a known currency in this region of the quadrant. Earth became a utopia centuries ago and money had long since become obsolete.

I had no intention of buying anything.

The items simply intrigued me.

Commander T’Varen eventually pulled me away as we finished our jumja sticks. She showed me a nearby replicator alcove where we could recycle the remaining wooden sticks.

We had barely walked any farther when she stopped again.

I looked up and saw a recessed doorway built into the curved Promenade wall. The architecture was noticeably different from the Cardassian design surrounding it.

Rows of glowing prayer candles stood near the entrance. Stone-carved Bajoran religious symbols decorated the doorway, and I could smell incense drifting into the corridor.

This was obviously the Bajoran Temple.

Not the first place I would have expected the commander to bring me.

The exterior of the temple felt far more welcoming than the surrounding shops. The candlelight gave it a quiet warmth.

It was simple compared to everything else around it.

I watched as Bajorans approached the entrance, touched their Bajoran earrings, bowed their heads, and entered.

After observing several Bajorans perform the same ritual, my palms immediately began to sweat.

For some reason it felt wrong to be there.

I have no problem with other species’ religions. That said, I also don’t want to disrespect them.

The commander must have sensed my hesitation and gently urged me inside.

As the temple doors quietly closed behind us, the noise of the Promenade faded almost immediately.

The scent of incense grew stronger.

Most relaxing of all was the change in lighting — from harsh Cardassian industrial amber to soft candlelight.

My palms stopped sweating fairly quickly.

The temple felt peaceful, sacred, and completely separate from the rest of the station.

Hundreds of glowing prayer candles lined the room, their light reflecting off stone surfaces.

Bajoran incense burners rested atop altar platforms leading toward a central pedestal containing a ceremonial casing. Religious markings surrounded it, similar to the symbols on the tapestries hanging along the temple walls.

Bajoran prayer chants echoed quietly through the chamber.

At one point, I even heard a very soft chant coming from the Vulcan beside me.

And it definitely wasn’t Vulcan.

Deep Space Nine truly is full of surprises.

I allowed my muscles to relax and simply absorbed the calm atmosphere while Bajorans — and a few other species from the station — entered and exited, reciting their own prayers.

Then Kai Opaka emerged from behind a section of tapestries that concealed a private chamber.

She noticed me immediately.

Hello again, sweaty palms.

Her words from the night before — when I encountered her near the wormhole viewport — echoed again in my mind:

“I sense great conflict within you. No one is fully aware of the greater conflict within. Most do not see it until what is missing is fulfilled.”

I whispered my own quiet prayer before she reached me.

When she did, we both bowed our heads.

She softly recited a Bajoran blessing, then gently took my hands and held them for a few moments before whispering:

“Walk with the Prophets.”

She released my hands, though I could still feel my palms sweating.

I silently hoped she did not take offense to my uneasiness in her temple.

Commander T’Varen quietly nudged me, and I noticed she had turned toward the temple doors.

As we stepped back onto the Promenade, the noise of the station gradually returned.

Several Bajoran civilians sat outside the temple lighting prayer candles and whispering quiet prayers.

The Vulcan didn’t skip a beat and continued along the Promenade.

Suddenly I heard loud, deep Klingon laughter.

Then came the smell — roasted meat and bloodwine.

The harsh red lighting spilling from a doorway confirmed it.

The Klingon Restaurant.

I offered one more silent prayer that this Vulcan wasn’t secretly a Klingon enthusiast like Jadzia.

Aside from her many wonderful attributes, that was definitely my least favorite.

As we walked past, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then immediately paused.

Inside the restaurant, through the wide openings facing the Promenade, I spotted my new tactical officer.

The interior was unmistakably Klingon.

Barrels of bloodwine lined the walls. Heavy wooden tables filled the room while warriors debated loudly about battle and honor.

The air smelled of roasted meat, fermented bloodwine, spices, smoke, leather, and raw meat.

The scent was overwhelming.

Just as I was about to leave, the chef emerged carrying a Klingon accordion.

Commander T’Varen mentioned that he was the restaurant’s owner — a Klingon named Kaga.

We both paused as he began singing a booming yet strangely beautiful Klingon opera.

My tactical officer stood up from his table, sloshing bloodwine from his mug, and joined him.

He wasn’t terrible.

We watched for a moment longer.

Mostly until we both realized our stomachs were now strangely rumbling.

The commander continued down the corridor without a word.

Bajoran civilians and Starfleet officers passed us in both directions as she led me to a large circular doorway that slid open into the wall.

Inside was a Starfleet-style cafeteria.

The Replimat.

The atmosphere was calm and relaxed — the perfect place for conversation.

Exactly the sort of place a Vulcan would bring someone to study their new captain.

The cafeteria consisted of small tables and chairs arranged near large windows overlooking Bajor.

Bajoran civilians, traders, and Starfleet officers sat together quietly eating or talking.

The commander led me to a replicator alcove built into the wall where we ordered our meals.

I wonder how often Vulcans eat plomeek soup.

We sat at a small table near the windows and ate in silence for a few minutes.

Once we finished, I assumed we would continue the tour.

But as expected, this had been Commander T’Varen’s opportunity to get to know her new captain.

To my surprise, I enjoyed the conversation.

She told me about her life aboard Deep Space Nine during the past six months as Commander Sisko’s Command Specialist.

Her responsibilities included command logistics, Bajor sector fleet coordination, Cardassian border analysis, and Gamma Quadrant planning.

She truly was the logical choice to become my first officer aboard the USS Cairo.

I also learned why she had brought me to the Bajoran Temple.

She had been studying Bajoran culture during her off-duty hours.

Apparently that counted as entertainment for a Vulcan.

She also spoke about her distant familial connection to Ambassador Spock — a legend throughout the Federation.

If anyone could bridge the differences between species, it was Ambassador Spock.

Half Vulcan.

Half Human.

A living symbol of unity.

The story only strengthened my confidence in Commander T’Varen’s role as my first officer.

Her Vulcan sharpness was beginning to soften in my eyes.

Somewhere beneath it, there was a quiet kindness.

When we finished dinner, the commander escorted me to the outer habitat ring where our quarters were located.

We parted ways with a respectful bow.

And now here I am writing this log.

Becoming captain of an Excelsior-class heavy cruiser with prior Cardassian conflict service carries expectations.

There is a long political history behind the USS Cairo.

Aside from my senior staff, the ship also has a very experienced crew.

The Cairo had a reputation for discipline under Captain Jellico.

I have no intention of changing that.

Admiral Jellico left behind a ship known for precision and discipline.

The crew is still adjusting to new leadership.

And so am I.

My experience aboard the USS Rutledge during the Cardassian conflict taught me how to guide a crew through difficult missions.

That experience will help ensure we reach the Gamma Quadrant safely with the colonists.

“Computer, record Red Directive Mission.”

Computer: Red Directive Mission Log Initiated.

Our mission launches at oh nine hundred hours tomorrow.

Pre-security sweep scheduled for oh six hundred hours.

Mission Directive: Deliver Federation colonists near the Bajoran wormhole to new Federation colony refit Eos Prospera in the Gamma Quadrant.

Ship: Excelsior-class exploration cruiser USS Cairo, formerly commanded by Captain Edward Jellico.

Current Captain Status: Independent command, Captain A. Kelly.

Captain’s Note:
Eos — Greek goddess of the dawn.
Prospera — prosperity, hope, and success.

Tomorrow marks our new dawn.

“Computer, end classified log.”

Computer: Classified Log Entry Complete.