Stand Down, Drop These Weapons Now

Posted on 19 May 2018 @ 5:32pm by Lieutenant JG Rizil Chaya & Ensign Miraj Derani

1,247 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Screwdriver Bar, Avondale Shipyards
Timeline: MD 99 2100

ON:

Chaya indiscriminately tapped her foot to the beat of an old Terran classics song, something by Marilyn Monroe or whatever. Fight, fight, fight! the song chanted loudly, drowning the hustle and bustle of Screwdriver out in a punchy chorus. A young Rigelian winked at her from across the room and she arched a brow playfully, saluting her half-drained glass before his attention drew him elsewhere (Rigelians, amirite?). Oh, well. It was no lost cause.

The death of one is a tragedy, the death of a million is just a statistic! Eyeroll. How fucking poignant. She downed the remaining amber beer and signaled to the bartender for a new one. Fight, fight, fight, fight! If ever there existed a theme song for Chaya, this would be the rallying cry. Fortunately, her blustering innate vengeance had been tempered by time. Over the past ten years she'd found her niche within Starfleet, cultivating a reputation amongst the vessels she'd served as reasonable (shocker, I know) and efficient (double shocker!!). At the very least, she asked questions first and shot second. But, hey! She did shoot. Her rough-around-the-edges demeanor manifested most prominently in the fact that she was still a junior grade lieutenant after eleven years.

Her PADD blinked and she glanced down at it. There was only a few more hours until morning, when she would be required to report to her new duty station aboard the USS Galileo-A, as a Security/Tactical officer. Her job aboard the Seine had been Security only, so she was looking forward to the challenge. Ka-boom, ka-boom! I'd like to la-la-la-la-LOVE YOU! the radio blared as the song changed. She supposed it could be worse. She mouthed along with the words tipsily. The bartender floated over to her and topped her up, and she grinned at him.

"Thanks, bud," Chaya huffed as she promptly drank a decent quarter of it in one go. Her body was still adjusting to the time difference at Avondale, but nothing helped smooth things along quite like beer.

The song came to an end, and in the lull between songs, the screen over the bar showing the Federation News Network could be heard "...Bajoran government lodged a protest to the UFP state department today over proposals to further aid Cardassian rebuilding..."

A few stools down, a trill young man groaned. "Bloody Bajorans. Always whining!"

His companion, human looking, nodded, "Change the channel?" he asked the bartender, who reached for the remote. Then he turned to his friend. "I swear, Bajorans are obsessed with their victimhood. The occupation was twenty years ago. They've got to get over themselves!"

"We control the weather, too!" Chaya shot back well above the din of the crowd, sarcasm dripping from her words. When the Trill looked over at her, she gave him a saccharine smile.

The trill looked over, saw Chaya and rolled his eyes. "You're just proving my point. too bloody sensitive. Cry me a river, Bajoran, I'm not interested."

"Oh, pardon me. I mistook you for someone with half a brain cell to rub together. Carry on, then." Chaya saluted her drink at him.

The trill rolled his eyes and went back to his drink but his friend took up the attack. "Look. Everyone knows the Bajorans got treated bad. But the Cardassians got it worse in the end. It may be Karma, but the Bajorans should show a bit of compassion, not keep whinging about ancient history."

"Look, I get it. You guys are tasteless dickbags. I'm just here to tell you that every time you open your mouth to emit sounds, forcing people to hear the bullshit that you spout, a Bajoran is going to be around to tell you where to stuff it. Your opinions reflect an utter lack of nuance, which frankly does not shock me. What the fuck do you know about the political landscape of Bajor, or the Occupation, or the War? Go back to armchair psychiatry, please."

"And you don't get you're making my point for me. The more Bajorans whinge and whine and play the victim card, objecting to the Federation helping the Cardassians the same way they helped Bajor, you all come across as entitled dickbags. Its classic. Abused becomes the abusers."

She whirled around to face them. "In case you missed the memo, Bajor doesn't have anything to offer aid, because our planet was stripped bare by these so-called Paragons of the Alt-Right. That's right, guy, it's been twenty years and we're still recovering from it. Our people are still sick. Our people are still traumatized. The Cardassians may have suffered casualties, but don't think you're doing anyone any moral favors by equating our circumstances or suggesting that we're obligated to help. We both know it's just an attempt to undermine legitimate Bajoran issues, which we both know you don't give a shit about."

The human gave a shrug. "Not talking about you giving aid. Talking about you objecting to us giving it to the Cardassians, who got bombed back to the stone age. But you're right. I don't equate the Cardassian suffering with yours." He sipped on his drink. "They had it worse."

Chaya shook her head, and sighed. She could already feel her heart pounding in her chest. Prophets help her. Alcohol and temper, she needed to shut this down. Standing up, she grabbed her coat, in the process inadvertently flashing them her left arm. She folded her jacket over the Cardassian script and picked up her purse. "This? is not worth it. If you don't mind, I have things to do that don't involve bashing my skull against brick walls."

He gave her a smug smile. "I'm only trying to make your lot look better that they currently do. But go ahead. Stay a victim. You'll always be victims."

There was certainly a time when she would have full-force laid into these guys, but everything they spoke about was ideological, while for her it was deeply personal. That divide would be there no matter what, and there were more effective ways to make a point than brawling in a bar. "I said I'm leaving. Enjoy the last word. Victory is yours," Chaya bowed facetiously.

The two men sniggered, "just like a Bajoran," he snorted. "Surrendering."

"You have a military career, they work at a supermarket. Let it go," she said under her breath as she strode past them.

"Pity hire," sneered the human as she went past. "run away, little victim. Go be righteous elsewhere."

Chaya got outside and took a few deep breaths, leaning against the wall. Fortunately, her inner voice piped up at exactly the right time. You don't always have to solve problems with your fists. It says more about your character than it does about theirs that you walked away. Let it go. You won. "Whew," she exhaled loudly, glancing up at the bright moon in the sky. "Let it go, Ky. Let it gooo. Someone ought to make a musical out of that..."

Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she headed back to the shipyards to log some paperwork.

OFF:

Lieutenant JG Rizil Chaya
Security/Tactical Officer
USS Galileo

Two Morons
NPC by Derani

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