Posted on Thu Sep 9th, 2021 @ 6:39pm by Lieutenant Yipa Cirni
Edited on on Thu Sep 9th, 2021 @ 6:45pm
“You need to bury your demons, Cirni. Both the Bajoran and Cardassian ones. Go home for a few weeks. Learn your family history. Go make peace with the past, or you will never truly experience a successful future.”
Her therapist’s voice whispered in the back of her mind. She took the advice. On Bajor she tried to find out who the Yipa were, learning a little about her familial history. Reelina was right. She learned about her family D’jarra: Va’telo. Sailors, pilots, and warriors. No surprise to the young woman who had a knack for combat tactics. They died victims in a war. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Making peace with her Bajoran history allowed her to close the chapters of her youth and look forward to a better future. Cirni could not say the same for her Cardassian demons. She hated them, she always would. Something she learned all too well on her last night before leaving for her new post.
Her shuttle from the Bajoran capital, Ashalla, arrived at DS9 late in the evening. The plan was to walk the promenade, stop into Quark’s, have a drink, maybe play a game of dabo, and then sleep. In the morning, get transported to her new posting. That was the plan, plans have a habit of changing. The walk along the promenade startled her. Most Bajorans considered the star base to be a Holy Temple now. Many of the shops were replaced by praying pilgrims and statues of The Prophets and the Emissary. Crowds gathered around the display panels to watch the Celestial Temple. She did not stand out, wearing the traditional Bajoran clothes, not her uniform, though anyone who looked closely could see her Starfleet com badge. Making her way around the upper terrace, trepidation crept over her as she neared Quark’s, almost afraid to find it gone as well. A smile pulled the edges of her lips up when she heard the crowd noise waft towards her the closer, she got.
Some things never change thank The Prophets. She stepped through the doorway to a hauntingly familiar scene. Groups of species encompassing all shapes and sizes gambling and drinking away. Perhaps more Bajorans than when she was younger, but that was a good thing. She was about to head toward Quark at the bar when a soused and pugnacious Cardassian stumbled drunkenly into her, spilling his drink all over her shirt. He did not even notice. He was too busy muttering to himself about how the Cardassians should have won the war. The man staggered back a few steps, his dark eyes narrowed, causing the ridge on his brow to drop as he tried to focus on the woman in front of him. Slurring his words slightly, he leered at her wet shirt. He reached for her blouse, his fingers plucking at the fabric, keeping his hand hovering near her breast.
“We should have won the war and refused to give up Bajor.”
Cirni seethed inwardly at his touch. While her face remained smiling, her eyes were ice cold. Resisting the urge to break every bone in his body, she didn’t move. Her voice was not even threatening as she said flatly.
“Remove your hand from my shirt now.”
His grin only widened, becoming almost feral. “Oh, don’t be like that… want to be my comfort girl?”
He chuckled in a snide way that set her teeth on edge. Quick as lightning, the lithe woman grabbed his offending hand, snapped his wrist upwards and yanked his arm roughly, pinning it behind his back at a harsh angle meant to pull the arm from the shoulder socket. She slammed her kneecap into the back of his legs, using the momentum to bend him forward, slamming his face down on the bar hard.
The bartender gave an exasperated yell, the Cardassian having already been trouble, but not wanting more. The Ferengi hit the console to call security in; not wanting a bar fight. Cirni leaned in really close, making sure the man could feel her leaning over him. Had she not been practically yanking his arm from his socket; he might have considered it seductive. Her voice certainly was when she whispered right next to his earlobe.
“Careful Cardassian. The right amount of pressure applied just so, paralyzes the arm.”
She pulled up just a little more letting him feel the numbness flood his muscles. The scapula threatened to pop the socket and dislocate his shoulder. He winced and sputtered incoherently. She continued as she pulled him upright, motioning the security team that stepped forward.
“This one needs to sleep off his buzz and learn not to touch women without their permission.”
She gave the team her name and rank while handing the Cardassian over to them. When she released his arm finally, it hung limp at his side. A temporary side effect she didn’t apologize for. She turned to walk back to the bar where Quark stood shaking his head with the usual annoyed look on his face. She could not help herself. As the security team was leading the man away, she looked back over her shoulder, smiled at him, and then commented on his original rant.
“Cardassians lost the war and Bajor because you continually underestimate your adversaries. You think we are all ‘lesser’. Not as developed, not as intelligent. You were wrong. The Cardassians were powerless to stop the Bajoran resistance fighters because you ultimately could not control us, not even with slavery and genocide. You slaughtered civilians thinking it would stop the rebels. It only fueled their hatred and determination to rid us of your chains. The Dominion lost, because your own people finally resisted them and none of the dominion leadership ever considered the neutral parties would eventually choose sides against them. You, just tonight, underestimated me and my reaction to your pawing. I guess it is true, Cardassians never learn. Think about that while you lay in the brig till morning.”
She then turned and walked away, not even watching the security team leave with the drunk man. Quark kept shaking his head even as he handed her a glass of Andorian ale.
“You haven’t changed a bit, Yipa Cirni! Attack first, talk after. I thought Starfleet regulates that out of you officers. Just so you know that drink isn’t free either! You’re lucky you didn’t break anything on the bar!”
She laughed, enjoyed the ale and the conversation, the two-continuing chatting for a while before she headed back to her quarters to sleep. Shore leave was over. Her new orders came through. She got the Chief of Security position available on the USS Orion. She would be reporting to the starship in the morning.