A Bajoran Farewell

Posted on 23 Dec 2025 @ 7:12pm by Lieutenant JG Aerie Mak
Edited on on 27 Dec 2025 @ 1:00am

1,562 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Epitaph
Location: New Bajor
Timeline: July 12th, 2390, 1100 hours

The clear, blue skies sprawled against the green, mountainous backdrop of New Bajor, a colony defended by a station called Gamma Command. The cool wind blew through the trees as the green leaves swayed, waiting for someone to make a move. Overlooking a small hill with lines of graves, two Bajoran figures stood before a solitary arched stone with Bajoran script etched on it.

"Mak?" The female Bajoran standing behind him inquired.

"Hmm," Mak replied, his hands in his pockets with his head inclined downward, studying the Bajoran script on the stone. Wearing the Starfleet uniform with the gold shoulders and the black tunic, the wind blew softly against his short, cropped hair and his dangling, chained Bajoran earrings with a single ring piercing attached to his ear. He appeared lean with a well-built physique honed through surviving on his own. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he crouched on the ground, his right knee gently pressing against the soil.

The Bajoran female with the dirty blonde braided ponytail crossed her defined, muscular arms. Wearing the usual colony attire of muted colors, she wore her sleeveless tunic over her leggings, a layered sash, boots, and ornamental, chained Bajoran earrings. She teased, "You're going to get yourself dirty if you want your uniform to be clean, Starfleet."

Ignoring her, Mak touched the words etched on the stone. He whispered in Bajoran, tracing each word with gentleness, "Rest easy, grandfather. May you live long with the prophets. You were the voice for my pain. Thank you for helping me find my way back home."

He touched the ground, grasping the soil before picking it up. Several specks filtered through his fist as he became quiet. She breathed out slowly, crouching to her knees and touching his back with a soft hand. "I knew him, too. We all did. He touched all our lives differently with stories. Especially yours. You might not share much of your history with the Shan, but know this Mak. You will always be my favorite brother."

Mak turned to her with a smile, replying, "Thanks, Thera. You're my favorite sister."

Thera offered her hand as Mak opened his fist, letting the dirt flow free back to the ground. Brushing the dirt from his hand, he accepted her hand as they stood up. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she smiled, squeezing his upper arms firmly. Their heads connected for a few seconds as they took the moment to feel the breeze flow through them, their earrings swaying in the quiet breeze. "Let's walk with the Prophets, brother."

She wrapped her arm around Mak's arm as they returned toward the dirt path. Walking along the worn path, they silently observed the natural world and listened to its sounds. The siblings kept their silence, understanding the connection between them as they headed along the familiar path toward home in the midday sun.


____________________________________________________________________


At the family's large, single-story house, set next to a wide stretch of farmland, a single Bajoran female was pacing on the porch. She wore a muted color knee-length dress over her leggings, with a layered sash around her waist, and boots. Short with medium-cut brown hair, she wore her salvaged post-occupation earrings. Biting her fingernails, she seemed apprehensive and agitated. At the base of the porch steps was a single stone with the family name, Shan, etched on it in both English and Bajoran. Above her, Bajoran wind chimes hung on the rafters, singing in the wind.

Stopping for a few seconds, she looked across the pathway, watching two familiar figures approach the gate: Mak and Thera. Gasping, she touched the salvaged earring on her ear, fidgeting with it for a few seconds before parting her hair over her shoulder, then ran down the steps towards them. "Mak! Thera!"

They watched her speed towards them as Thera offered a hand. Releasing Mak, she adopted a mature sisterly tone, speaking, "Luren, slow down. What is it?"

Grasping her sister's hands, she gasped, trying to slow her breathing, "Uriel and Ezil are fighting again. Mother wanted you to deal with them."

Releasing her, Thera exclaimed with exasperation, looking skyward while silently uttering a forbidden curse at the prophets. Luren widened her eyes and gasped, stepping back a few paces while Mak sharply looked at her with surprise, "Thera!"

Catching herself, Thera covered her mouth and gasped. Feeling guilty, she apologized, "Sorry, Mak. Luren. Sorry."

Mak nodded, satisfied. However, Luren placed her hands on her hips and scolded her, "I'm telling mother. You said a bad word in front of the prophets."

Thera immediately glared at her, crossing her arms. She retorted, "You do that, and I'll tell mother what you've been doing behind her back."

Keeping her hands on her hips, Luren raised her eyebrow and inquired, "What do you mean?"

While Mak stayed back, letting the sisters bicker, Thera replied, "You know what I mean. Sneaking out once a week in the middle of the night. Constantly sending secret comms back and forth. I know who you're talking to, Luren, and frankly, it shows."

With her fists tight, Luren scoffed, stepping a few steps forward while slightly dashing, "Why, you."

Sensing an oncoming fight, Mak intercepted the sisters with a single hand swipe directed at her path, "Luren, settle down. Breathe. Talk."

Luren stopped a few paces as Mak gently touched her hip, keeping her back. He whispered, "If you have something to share, say it now. You're not in trouble."

Luren's fierce eyes met Mak's calm demeanor. She sighed softly, while meeting Mak nodded, satisfied. She felt calmer in the moment. Looking back at her sister's glare, she gulped and sighed, backing up. She spoke, "Look, Mendoza isn't-"

"Mendoza?" Thera spat harshly while whispering, her teeth showing, "That spineless, mouthpiece traitor of you know who? The one who nearly-"

Thera sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her nose ridges. Luren glared at her, feeling heated. Mak offered his hand, while standing by to ensure they stayed several feet apart. He whispered, "Luren."

Ignoring him, Luren spat back, "You have no right to say that. You-"

"I have every right," Thera snapped back, angrily, "Mendoza's a bad seed. Bad influence. And you're sneaking off to see him? You dirty the Shan household. You shameless - "

Mak quickly diverted his focus on her, offering his open palm, "Thera, easy."

Thera growled softly, shaking her head while turning to rub her temples. Luren glared at her while trying not to cry. She spoke, "He's just misunderstood, Thera. Something you wouldn't understand."

"Under-" Thera looked up with a snarl, turning toward her while dashing. She snapped, "What I'm understanding is you are willfully disobeying the prophets, disobeying mother after she explicitly forbade you to see him. I am warning you. Mak, tell her!"

"Hey," Mak sighed, offering his hands while keeping Thera back with his hand, "I'm just the middleman here. Breathe."

Recognizing the calm, but directed tone towards her, Thera took a deep breath. She replied, "Luren, look. I love you. You're my sister, but when you fraternize with him. You interlope with a known traitor. An enemy!"

"But he's not," Luren argued, pushing against Mak's steady hold against her chest, "He's misunderstood. I love him."

Thera shook her head, keeping her anger in check. "No. He's using you, manipulating your feelings. I don't just protect you out of love. I protect the Shan household from him. He's tainted. Impure. This is my final warning, as it will be my last. Cut your ties with him. The next time you are seen with him, it won't be me. It would be mother, and her punishment would be the worst of all. She would disown you in a flat second."

"But-" Luren tried again.

Mak pulled her closer, speaking softly, "Luren. We don't want to see you hurt, okay? I know it's hard, but it's the only way."

Luren sighed, looking at both of them in the eyes. She fidgeted, squeezed Mak's sculpted biceps under his sleeved Starfleet tunic, and rubbed her salvaged, chained earring. Keeping her defined, muscular arms crossed, Thera scowled. Luren looked at her fierce eyes and gulped. Knowing the undeniable truth, she nodded, "Okay. I will."

"What?" Thera snapped harshly, causing Mak to offer his palm to ease the tension. She ignored him, spitting back, "You will what?"

"I-," Luren exhaled, wilting under her pressure. She bit her lips.

Mak immediately cushioned her behind his back and turned to face Thera. He placed his hands on her shoulders and firmly grasped them, taking her tone down a notch, "Hey, Thera. She got it. It's okay."

Thera exhaled, closing her eyes and moving her head, cracking her neck. She released her tension, uncrossed her arms, and grasped Mak's arms. Connecting her forehead against Mak's, she spoke through a tight, angry smile, "I missed you, Starfleet."

Releasing him, she walked past Luren, ignoring her while heading towards the house. Luren watched her walk away without acknowledgement and gasped softly, feeling her anxiousness almost overwhelming her. Tears trickled down her face as she bit her lip, fighting the urge to cry. Mak grasped her hand, pulling her gently towards him. She sobbed quietly, moving around to hug him as she buried her head into his body. He hugged her, kissing her forehead and whispering, "It's okay, Luren. Give her space."

TBC

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