The room was damp, dimly lit, and heavy with smoke that permeated the air just above everyone’s head. A Barzan male sat at the bar among other patrons; his only defining features were dirty jeans, a thick leather jacket, and a trimmed-down mohawk.
The open door to the local dive bar slid open, letting in light from the streetlamps, as a freshly dressed Federation Officer stepped in, standing out in all the wrong ways. He wore a crisp uniform with red shoulders, four gleaming pips on his neckline, and salt-and-pepper hair trimmed to perfection.
The Barzan at the bar kept his back to the door as he nursed a flagon of alcohol in front of him. He could see the captain’s silhouette in the dirty reflection of the mirror across from him. Others in the bar took notice as well, quickly excusing themselves so as not to be seen or noticed. Starfleet may not have had jurisdiction on Farius Prime, but that never stopped them from sticking their nose in everyone’s business.
The man at the bar shook his head, taking another deep drink from his cup. He knew someone big was coming in; he had pinned at least three undercover Starfleet Security personnel who had taken key positions around the perimeter of the bar roughly 15 minutes beforehand. But seeing who it was now brought him a sense of dejection. Whatever was about to go down was not going to be good.
“Captain Anderson…want me to spot you a drink? Federation prestige doesn’t get you far here; they still use actual currency for trade.” The sitting man called out, still not bothering to turn around.
Captain Jack Anderson took notice of his mark and approached the bar casually. “Kronk!” Jack greeted. “Nah, still on duty, doubt they have my preferred vintage. Plus, they still have rules of ‘not drinking on the job’.” He jest, taking the seat next to the Barzan.
“Well, at least let me get your security detail a drink; they have been waiting here a little longer than you.” Kronk suggested.
“Spotted them, huh?” Jack nodded, turning around to survey the other patrons in the room. He also singled out his security officers quickly, who were dressed as locals, but didn’t carry quite the same grimace about them. “Yeah, once you get a desk job, they don’t like you going out without an escort. Especially in the…livelier neighborhoods.” He explained, smiling to the bartender who was trying to figure out if he had been insulted or not.
“So…what do I owe the pleasure?” Kronk queried, pushing his cup towards the bartender for a refill.
“Can’t a Captain swing by and check up on an old crewman?” Jack asked innocently.
“Last time you swung by was when you presided over my court-martial, so forgive the PTSD response.” Kronk groaned.
“Bah, not here for anything like that. Plus, you did your time, got out on good behavior, free man, fresh start, right?” Jack continued to press, clasping his hands together on the bar top.
“You found me in a dive bar on Farius, Jack. Anything sound fresh and free about that?” Kronk remarked coldly as he took his refilled drink for a fresh sip.
“Point. Look, I’ll cut the crap. We got something coming down the pipeline, and I was wondering if you might be interested in a job.” Jack shrugged, relaxing a bit more.
“Are you, the man who sentenced me to 18 months in a penal colony, seriously offering my pips back?” The Barzan asked, almost surprised at the statement.
“Look…I’m not here to argue about the past. Your case was just another docket on the pile; it wasn’t personal. And to be fair, you did some pretty nasty stuff to earn that conviction… personal reasonings aside…” Jack began to defend. “That being said, you’re still a damn accomplished and well-trained officer, and I’d like to see those skills be put to better use before you end up right back where you were.”
Kronk held his hands up in defeat. It was a fair assessment. Despite Jack having served as a judge advocate in his criminal case six years back, the captain never did take the high road like everyone else, or try to throw the book at him for it. “Fair. Fine, what’s the gig?”
“Reinstatement and assignment to the Klingon Defense Force, for a command transfer program.” Jack replied flatly.
Kronk nearly spat out his drink, “What?!” he blurted out.
“Been a lot of moving and shaking going around as of late. Allied vessels have been thrown into the mix with a variety of fleets, and we have had several Co-op Klingon and Republic officers serving with us. Command thinks it’s only fair we offer some of our own to these allies as a show of good faith. But I can’t put just any officer on board a Klingon ship and expect them to make it very long…But you can.” Jack explained.
“Is it because of my charming personality?” Kronk teased with a smirk.
“You’re a little rough around the edges, which I think might mesh well with a Klingon Crew, then one of my fresh out of the academy applicants. Plus, you stick to your guns no matter what, that’s honorable and commendable in their eyes.” Jack defended.
“Yeah, there’s a message to send to our supporters, here’s a criminal, he’ll fit right in with you lot!” Kronk sneered, raising his glass in a mocking toast.
“Oh please…” Jack dismissed with a wave of his hand. “…Plus, you’re in a dive bar on Farius, really going to tell me you got something better lined up?”
Kronk didn’t turn to look at the Captain at that; he only shrugged at his own reflection in the mirror. “What’s in it for me?” He finally asked, raising the cup to his lips.
“Provisional reinstatement, for one, and all the bells and whistles that come with it. Stick it out a full year for the assignment, and your record gets purged.” Jack offered.
“Yea…for all the good that will really do me…” Kronk expressed drearily.
Jack’s lips tightened. “Look…I know you got dealt a bad hand. You did everything you could think of, good and bad, and it just didn’t work out. I don’t blame you for what you did; I know why. I was right there with everyone else, ready to vilify you, until Ta’leia petitioned the court on your behalf…I know she wouldn’t have wanted you to…” He began to say.
Kronk slammed his cup down, hard enough that the container nearly cracked. His knuckles were white against the handle, “DON’T…” he snapped. “Don’t…” he repeated, controlling his tone. “What she wanted is irrelevant, she’s dead now…I couldn’t even be there for her in her final moments.” His voice trembled.
“I know…” Jack said softly, almost guiltily. He removed a small isoliner chip from his pocket and slid it across the bar to the grieving Barzan. “Just think it over. Let me know.”
As Jack rose from his seat, so too did the three others in the bar. Kronk didn’t even bother watching the federation envoy leave.
==========================
(4 Hours Later)
Kronk sat slumped in a chair in a small rented room on the outskirts of town. A PADD with the face of a young blond Barzan girl looked back at him. Ta’leia, his younger sister, so bubbly, so full of joy and life, was smiling and giggling in the 5-second animated snapshot.
Tears silently rolled down his face. He remembered when she was diagnosed with a pulmonary embolism, how he begged federation doctors to do something, but between bureaucracy and the lack of technology available due to the Synthetic AI Ban, their hands were effectively tied.
Disenfranchised with the Federation, he had gone AWOL and got in with a shady organization that sought to liberate various pieces of technology from the SAMCS facility in Okinawa, Japan, being promised that the technology there could help isolate and treat his sister’s condition. However they were caught and imprisoned for their efforts…ultimately Ta’leia died, two years after he was incarcerated, his last memory being an emotional holo-recording after she passed, where she had apologized to him…but it was never her fault, he did all those things, he put himself in the situation for her, not because she asked, but because that was his duty as her brother.
Damn, Jack, for using her memory against him. But the captain wasn’t wrong. Ta’leia had begged him in her last message to get out, to live a life, happy and free, for her. Easier said than done for a convicted felon. Despite how large the galaxy was, that stain on his record managed to find its way along with him, making it hard to establish himself.
Maybe this was redemption, or maybe it was the old man’s means of rectifying his former actions. It was Jack, after all, who had delivered the news to him in prison…he didn’t have to, but he was one of the few who knew the whole story.
Kronk had been drinking himself into a stupor for the last three years, grabbing odd jobs in mining operations and as hired muscle in questionable Ferengi cargo runs. This wasn’t the life he wanted, and it wasn’t what his sister would have wanted to…
One year on a Klingon Ship to erase all the mistakes of his past…well…most of them. He thumbed the Iso Chip in his hand for a while before finally inserting it into his terminal.
[To be Continued]
