“In countries where people have to flee their homes because of persecution and violence, political solutions must be found, peace and tolerance restored, so that refugees can return home. In my experience, going home is the deepest wish of most refugees.”

Angelina Jolie

Trouble was brewing down on the Electric Mile.

You could feel discontent fomenting like something near – alive, twisting and writhing amongst the voices of the people as they thronged between the street – food vendors, hawkers, barkeeps and merchants – a palpable brisciance of tension that forbode nothing good.

It could be seen in the way that men held themselves, defensive and withdrawn, with a barely contained threat of tension smoldering away that threatened to ignite into something more incendiary – just waiting for the right (or wrong) thing to set light to the touch – paper and let rage consume reason.

You could see it in the faces of the women, of the almost perpetual worry and fear harbored deep in their sad, dark eyes as they clutched infants closer to their thin – breasts or suddenly chastised a wayward child for straying too far from the protective perimeter of their guarded – gaze – a swift rebuke issued and instantly regretted.

Saved from certain death and brought aboard a sanctuary where they found no respite, the surviving people of the Colony of New Providence found it hard not to be suspicious of their saviors and the attendant air of discontent was palpable to Lieutenant Keishara Dolan, as the Assistant Chief Security Officer looked down from one of the mezzanine walkways at the crowd gathering around the speaker – her slim coffee – coloured hands resting by the wrist on the rail.

A seasoned and intuitive officer, Keishara’s steady judgement and keen ability to parse the developing situation was one reason why the young woman had been chosen to head up the USS Hikaru Sulu’s Hazard Team Operations. Appreciating how precarious the situation unfolding before her eyes was, in terms of civil order, she had opted to keep her security team hung – back a sensible distance from the crowd massing below. The last thing this situation needed was more fuel for the growing fire of discontent that the settlers had brought aboard.

Captain Shavda had shuttered the Promenade Deck when it had become apparent that the localized effects of The Blackout were in fact universal and that it heralded the Vaadwaur Supremacy’s unprovoked act of War.

Usually the locus of communal gathering, excitements and much needed recreational release, the “Electric Mile” (as it was euphemistically known to crewmembers and visitors alike) was normally the jewel in the collective crown of the Hikaru Sulu, but with the ship on a war – footing the CO had deemed the ‘Mile’ as an unwanted distraction and that the sheer volume of EPS power that running the Holographic Generators that studded the great curving arc of pleasure and hedonism on Deck#18 of the great Odyssey-class ship (It was not actually a mile long, but the “Electric 874 meters” just didn’t conjure up the same sense of mystique) were best served powering essential systems aboard, that might mean the slim difference between life of death in combat.

Like most things aboard ship, the “Mile” was an expression that the United Federation of Planets had the resources and technology to do it bigger and better than your own people, serving as an unsubtle reminder, whilst pouring you your favorite drink, whilst a holographic representation of the person exhibiting the kind of traits designed specifically to put you most at ease with yourself, shot the shit with you whilst cooking you a dish just like your mother used to make.

“Don’t fuck with the Federation.”

Realizing that the Cardassian farmers rescued from the devastating assault on their Homeworld would not only be traumatized by their loss, but also resistant to being resettle aboard ship (even if it was for their own good and even though it was only a temporary arrangement), Lieutenant Commander Bravas, the ships OIC for Diplomatic & Consular Affairs, had suggested to Captain Shavada that – instead of housing the small contingent of survivors in one of the Sulu’s capacious cargo – bays (which was the common practice for emergency accommodations during Humanitarian Aid missions), that the 800 – odd survivors should be billeted on  the Promenade deck and that the Holo-matrix be programmed to create an environ that was both familiar and welcoming to the beleaguered Cardassian’s.

“Cute idea.” Lieutenant Dolan cocked her Afroed head slightly to one side as more and more people began to congregate around the thin, grey Cardassian that had made a temporary pulpit of a crate of emergency supplies and was regarding the gathering faces with a calculating look on his face.

“Doesn’t seem to be working out too well.” She sighed as she tapped her commbadge and opened up a hail to her superior.

“Dolan to Trench.”

A pause and then:

“Trench here, go ahead Lieutenant.”

Dolan straightened from the rail and had to give it to Engineering, they really had done a sterling job in recreating the Hamda – Bazaar from Cardassia Prime.

Keishara had visited the Cardassian Homeworld three years ago, as part of a Security Team providing close protection for a diplomatic delegation and had managed to visit the Bazaar during her off – duty time. The Holo-projection not only captured the sights and sounds of the bustling cultural marketplace, but also the smells too.

With the pungent, but alluring aroma of Yamok Sauce wafting up from the ‘street’ below, Keishara regarded the scene below and then turned to where the security team was waiting for her word. She sighed.

“Something’s brewing down on the Mile and it ain’t just Red Leaf Tea Harry.” She responded tellingly. “You’d better find Orliella and get her down here. Tell her to bring her fire-hose, it looks like she will be needing it.”

No pause this time.

“Copy that, on our way.” Rumbled Lieutenant Commander Harry Trench, with his characteristically typical gravelly – voiced grit and vinegar.

Judging that the time was now right, Shomoc Olnol narrowed his dark eyes and raised his thin, grey hands to command the crowd to silence.

A thin man in his later years, Olnol was not a member of the council, but well respected amongst the general populous of what remained of his community. A community that were hurt, angry and confused, fallow ground for the seeds of discontent that the old man was about to sow.

Shomoc was a veteran of the Dominion War and his father before him had served with the High Command in the Union’s war against the Federation in the 2340’s. It went without saying that he held no love for the Federation or Starfleet and (in all fairness) the sovereignty of his people and ownership of New Providence had changed hands so many times and those in power on both sides shifted imaginary lines of hypothetical maps that his sense of alienation and dispossession drew the old man (like to many others) to feel persecuted by his enemies and abandoned by his leaders.

Thus the seed of the True Way grew in his breast, as it did with so many others harboring such sympathies for the Freedom Fighters that their detractors naturally mantled as “Terrorists”.

“BROTHERS AND SISTERS !” Shomoc Olnol proclaimed in a voice that was surprisingly strong and at odds with his advanced years.

The murmuring in the crowd slowly abated and when he was sure that all eyes were intent upon him, Shomoc began his oration.

“Brothers and Sisters we are a people dispossessed and forgotten !” Olnol proclaimed, hewing to a familiar and oft – repeated sentiment that anchored his people to the unfortunate past. Already this sentiment struck home and a few heads nodded in agreement, but mostly people were waiting to see what the old – man had to say.

“Such is our lot and it seems it is ever so!” Olnol proceeded to lead their minds down his particular path of prejudice.

“That we have swapped one aggressor for another just as intent upon our destruction is a sad testament to the suffering we endure.” Again this drew more nods as the surviving colonists were forced to confront the pain of their most recent of recent losses and setbacks.

A wild look gleamed in Shomoc’s yellowing eye as he stabbed out a thin finger in a surprising admonishment of the assemblage. His voice suddenly pitching to shrill accusation.

“But what is far sadder to me and should put shame in the hearts of us all is the testament to our own complacency to have allowed ourselves to be wrenched from the sacred soil of the world that we have, for generations, strived and fought and suffered for so long to make our own. To be taken aboard this ship and beguiled by these illusionary specters of good cheer and charity !”

Shomoc swept his arm to encompass the Holographic – Eden of the Hamda – Bazaar, where a holographic Cardassian was serving a portion of Regova Eggs , recognizable by their cheerful yellow and green shells, to a young couple that had opted not to join the throng.

“A mockery of our people and cultural richness, conjured up by a people who bitter experience has taught us openly mock our people and culture as do the victors to the vanquished!!!”

There were frowns now as this twisted diatribe spoke to the uncertainty and discontent natural to the refugee. On one hand the people of New Providence were grateful to be delivered from the Vaadwaur attack, to have their wounds tended and respite from conflict. On the other, they had been physically removed from what remained of their home and their future (beyond the immediate) seemed uncertain.

Shomoc Olnol knew that they lay upon the knife’s edge, so he made the cut.

“I REMEMBER !” He stabbed his finger skywards, and the crowd turned to see a tall, black woman in a Starfleet Security uniform, standing on one of the bridges crossing at the mezzanine level above, looking down on them.

“I REMEMBER when Starfleet took our world from us ! “ Shomoc levelled his accusation at Lieutenant Dolan, making Keishara proxy for her entire race and their perceived (and sometimes actual) sins of the past.

“I REMEMBER the shame of the Union when the High Command abandoned us and fled like the cowards they are !”

This last exhortation really did strike home with the crowd and more than one dark glare was directed at the Assistant Chief Security Officer as all heads turned to regard her coldly and she began to fear that she would have to deploy her security teams after all.

“I REMEMBER that our neighbors, the very people who could have come to our aid, whilst the Vaadwaur razed our crops and our homes to the very ground, sat in smug safety in their Asteroid – Belt and doubtless sung their ‘New Marquis Anthems’ whist New Providence BURNED !!!” Shomoc’s voice was both compelling in the twisted ‘truth’ that he had conjured and driven by a venomous hatred.

“And these Humans and their like now have triumphed, achieving through kindness what they could never do by force and have separated us from our land and we are supposed to stand here and THANK THEM for this INDIGNITY!!” Spittle escaped Shomoc Olnol’s thin lips and his hands were raised in rictus claws as he used his body as a slashing paint-brush of indignant – ire – the people his impressionists canvass.

“I seem to REMEMBER that we just saved your asses back there?” Rumbled a deep and ominous voice and the crowd turned to see Lieutenant Commander Harry Trench, his powerful arms folded across his broad chest, light reflecting off his close shorn head, a disgruntled set to his mouth, firm amongst this greying beard.

Silence abounded the crowd and Shomoc Olnol blinked, suddenly wrongfooted by being so interrupted.

Into this gulf stepped Lieutenant Commander Orliella Bravas, accompanied by another Cardassian male. One whose presence set the crowd to murmuring.

“I don’t seem to remember the people giving their assent to your voice joining that of the council of elders, Shomoc, as much as you might desire that to be.” Thus spoke Representative Dirmar Tesic as he stepped past the USS Hikaru Sulu’s Diplomatic Officer and to the fore.

“They deserve to hear the truth spoken from someone that lacks your forked tongue and your shameful collaborators heart, Tesic!” Shomoc glowered darkly, extremely upset that his diatribe had been cut – off just when he was sure that he had the people’s hearts and heads under his sway.

“The TRUTH?” Dirmar Tesic laughed dismissively and indicated to the people.

“Is it the TRUTH that you are selling here today, Shomoc Olnol?” The Representative raised a dark eyebrow in rhetorical – question?”

“It is the TRUTH that you dare not tell !” Olnol spat back in distain, but in his heart he knew that the advantage had been lost.

“You yearn for a future of lost and glorious yesterdays, Shomoc.”  Dirmar Tesic countered with a piteous look. “Your ‘truth’ is contingent on a strength of a Union that is now passed, even if the High Command were able to send us aid against the Vaadwaur invader, how likely would they be to do so? Like it or not (and I do not) but events have placed our planet in the ‘Former Demilitarized Zone’ and, Gods know,  we have tried our best to make the best of a bad situation – but it was not the High Command or even the Obsidian Order that came to our aid, but Starfleet.”

Shomoc Olnol made to retort, but Dirmar spoke over him, asserting;

“It was our former enemies that came to our aid!” Dirmar Tesic gestured to the diminutive Spanish – woman that stood beside him. “It was the men and women of Starfleet who risked their lives to save our own! It was Starfleet that tends to our wounded as you stand here and foment discontent! And it is Starfleet that gave is the opportunity to grieve and bury our dead in the soil from which they were born!”

“Soil which they have removed us from to take as their own!!!!” Shomoc Olnol countered, but his spell was broken and already some at the peripheries of the crowd had begun to drift away, the aromas of Sem’hal stew bubbling in the pot, proving a more enticing lure than what was being served here.

Dirmar Tesic waved a deriding hand to dismiss this last outburst and rob it of credibility, he indicated to Lieutenant Commander Bravas.

“The Captain of this vessel has temporarily evacuated our people as they are sure that the Vaadwaur will soon return to finish what they have begun, Shomoc, will you gamble with what precious remaining few we have left to prove her wrong?” Tesic swept his hand to indicate the men, women & children (too few) that were all remained of their community.

“Would you have them take up arms and lay down their lives to satisfy the “Truth” of your argument? What end do you have in mind for us Shomoc, please – do tell us?“

For now, Shomoc Olnol had no answer to give.

“The Lieutenant Commander here has promised that we will be returned to New Providence when it is safe to do so.” The Representative nodded to the Starfleet officer.

“Furthermore, she has made a commitment that the Starfleet Corps of Engineers aboard this ship will not only help us rebuild and restore our community to as it was before, but that their scientists have discovered a series of Geothermal fissures that they say that they can harness to provide us a sustainable form of energy – meaning that we will never again have to be hostage to the people of The Belt and their Dilithium and will be able to trade with them on a more equal footing in the future.”

This certainly struck home with the crowd, positive action and hope triumphing over inaction and the uncertainty of empty promises. With a tangible change of tone and tenor to the hubbub, the crowd began to wander off into the holographic landscape of the winding streets of the Hamda – Bazaar, leaving Shomoc Olnol standing seething and impotent on his improvised pulpit.

A prophet with no people to preach to.

“A word to the wise.” Spoke the Starfleet Lieutenant Commander in a strong Spanish accent, for the first time – as she regarded Shomoc levelly with her cool almond – eyes.

“Hope beats Hatred every time.” Orliella smiled neutrally. “You should try the Fish juice they serve at ‘Ghenaks’? It’s not for everyone, then again nothing really is, is it?” The Diplomat said pointedly and departed through the thronging crowd.

“Ouch!” Keishara smiled as she looked down on this exchange, glad that she had not had to resort to the application of brute force to resolve this situation.

“Woman is good.” Harry Trench nodded sagely as he came to join her at the rail.

“That she is.” Lieutenant Dolan agreed. “Still, It’d pay to keep an eye on Shomoc Olnol – something tells me he ain’t quite done stirring the pot yet?”

The Chief of Security looked down and regarded the Cardassian agitator with an unreadable look and nodded.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on him.” Harry agreed and turned to his protégé. “You on the other hand have been summoned to the high table – the Captain wants to see you.” The big man rumbled.

“She does?” It was Keishara’s turn to look surprised. “What for?”

Harry Trench turned his head to look at her and shrugged.

“I guess you’ll have to ask her when you see her. I just work here, Lieutenant.”

Dolan frowned at her boss.

“Well you’re a huge help, thank you very much!”

Trench maintained an impassive face and nodded.

“You’re welcome Lieutenant, you have fun now.”

Smiling wryly, Keishara nodded over Harry’s broad shoulder and quipped;

“Speaking of fun, your ‘Shadow’s’ back ! You crazy – kids don’t get up to too much mischief whilst I’m gone, y’hear me?” Dolan laughed and walked off down the mezzanine towards the turbolifts.

Frowning massively, the hulking Security Chief turned round and there behind him, waiting expectantly, was the frail young Cardassian child that he had rescued from the crater, some days before on New Providence.

Seemed like, since he’d brought her aboard, the girl was intent on following him everywhere he went.

“Hey kid.” Harry rumbled. “What’s up?”

She looked up at him and chewed thoughtfully on her grey lip, before speaking with that earnest and disarming ‘stream-of-consciousness’ way that children are oft to do.

“Hello Harry Trench” Challa greeted with a serious frown. “What is  ‘Hot-Dog’ and why is the water it is in ‘Dirty’? Has the Dog been swimming?”

Harry sighed and his shoulders rose and fell like the tide.

“I see that you’ve found the replicators then?” The big man reasoned.

“Yes I have, Harry Trench.” Challa nodded. “We don’t have these where I come from, our food comes from the harvest and we cook it in a pot with fire.”

“Well that’s one way of doing it I guess?” Harry admitted.

“But why do you eat dogs?” the Girl’s frown just deepened in confusion. “I thought dogs are pets? Do your people eat your pets?”

There was a long pause, then Harry shook his head.

“No Kid. No, we don’t eat our pets. No one does.” He reached out his massive hand and Challa happily placed her small, slim grey hand in his.

“C’mon Kid, I’ll take you to the Replicator and teach you all about Hotdogs.”

Challa looked up at him with perfect, innocent and pragmatic trust.

“Okay, Harry Trench. Do they taste good?”

The pair began off down the Mezzanine walkway towards the stairwell and Harry was forced to admit.

“Not especially. But they get much better when you add some some mustard and ketchup, I guess?”

“What’s Ketchup?”

“It’s like Yamok Sauce.”

“Oh! I like Yamok Sauce.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“What shall we do afterwards?”

“Afterwards I go back to work and you eat a hotdog. Seriously kid, you gotta stop following me around all the time.”

“But you said that you would protect me Harry Trench? How can you protect me if you can’t see me?”

“Let’s just start with that hotdog, shall we?”