“The Hard Peace”
Author’s Note: I plan to write this story to unfold over several parts. It centres on a character called Kelyn Neera. I don’t yet have her biography ready for posting, but in short, Kelyn is a Major in the Bajoran Militia and she has been recently assigned to Deep Space Nine. She recently appeared in live RP session called ‘Airlock Interlude’, and this first part of her story arc will touch upon that a bit as she arrives on the station. She is a woman shaped by Bajor’s recent history, that of a post-occupation society nearing its 46th year of Federation membership. Quickly approaching the mark where it has been at peace for almost as long as it was formerly occupied by the Cardassians. It seems like a good time to base the story.
Themes I’d like to touch upon along the way: Belonging and Identity, Legacy of the Occupation, Feelings of Uncertainty and of Courage, Finding oneself at a Crossroads between Duty and Responsibility, Stepping into the Unknown, Tensions between Starfleet and the Militia, Touching upon Bajor’s future and those who will bear that burden and opportunity.
“Arrival”
The turbolift hummed to a halt and Major Kelyn Neera found herself staring at the final airlock doors to the great Promenade aboard Deep Space Nine. For a moment she stood still, hand brushing the hilt of her sidearm, and reminded herself this was not a garrison back on Bajor. This was a crossroads of empires, a place where the air itself seemed restless with the movement of peoples and ships. She had dreamt of this since childhood, and now that the moment had come it carried a weight she had not expected.
Her arrival did not pass without incident. The airlock had faltered and sealed stubbornly against her group’s arrival, forcing her and several others to wait while engineers fumbled with overrides and irate traders speculated about sabotage. Kelyn had stepped forward then, steadying a frightened Bolian with calm words, her voice as level as she could manage. They were the first Bolian she had ever seen and it had been a small thing, but for her it marked the true threshold: not the door itself, but the reminder that this posting would test her patience and resolve in ways no academy drill ever had.
Once the doors did part, the glow of the promenade washed over her. She had seen holovids of course, but no recording could capture the true sound of it: people’s laughter mixing with the trader calls of Ferengi merchants, the dinging sound of a real flash-freezer producing fresh Jumja Sticks, the ever-present hum of the Station’s reactor… and even possibly the distant whirring of the Celestial Temple opening like a cosmic breath… well, maybe she was imagining that. She realised then what she had longed for: the chaos of the frontier, the living galaxy pressing close. Bajor was her home, but here she would measure herself against the universe.
Kelyn knew why she had chosen the Militia instead of Starfleet. Caution, loyalty, adopting her family’s fear of losing their daughter in the Federation’s vast machine. Yet those same choices now weighed heavy. She wanted the officers she would meet here to see a Bajoran Major whose service was as disciplined and worthy as any Starfleet badge. She wanted to prove to herself that she had not stayed too small, too provincial, when the stars had always called at her imagination.
Her parents’ shadows seemed to trail her steps even here. Her mother’s tired voice after years of tending militia wounded, her father’s quiet sorrow for the vedek path he had abandoned… both still echoed when she tightened her jaw. Their generation had endured the Occupation; she bore the task of what came after. Honour, dignity, and a place for Bajor that was not pity nor tokenism.
As she crossed the promenade, adjusting a crease in her uniform, she felt the eyes of strangers upon her. Traders from the Gamma Quadrant, Starfleet science officers, even a pair of Cardassians who glanced away too quickly. She straightened her back and walked on towards the turbolift that would take her to Station Operations.
Deep Space Nine had opened itself to her, flawed and flickering though it was. And Major Kelyn Neera intended to meet it with steady hands and an unyielding heart.
