From the Past Into the Future
Posted on October 4th, 1999 by Merienn Kiela

Kiela paced alongside Grey, measuring her stride to keep up with his long-legged gait. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of her new Commanding Officer or his seemingly overbearing military demeanor.

She turned her attention to the gaudy showiness of the Kelranni storefronts. Elaborately coiffed tourists buzzed in and out of the entrances hand in hand with the shoddier natives, like insects. Peering down, Kiela caught the eye of a wide-eyed young girl. She was gaunt and dressed in rags, and for an instant Kiela saw the echoes of other children she’d known in her childhood cloud her aspect: desperate, starving images of Bajorans who suffered the brunt of Cardassian cruelty. Kiela stared down for a moment, started to fumble in her carryall for a credit or two, then remembered where she was and straightened, hurrying to catch up to Grey who’d advanced a few feet during her distraction. She hoped he hadn’t noticed.

It was so hard sometimes, reconciling the different worlds Kiela had occupied in her lifetime. Sometimes she felt she’d lived more then anyone had a right to at twenty-eight. She wondered how she could reconcile that with life on the Atlantis. It would be difficult, she knew, as it had always been difficult. At least on the Halcyon, she’d had a few friends, but the Atlantis was an open question: and not one she was particularly looking forward to addressing.

Commander Grey stopped to examine a bolt of grey synthetic fabric, and Kiela stood by him, staring out at the crowd. Wondering what this stark man would be like as a commanding officer, she began to contemplate the last conversation she’d had with her friend from the Halcyon: T’shara, the Bajoran Helmswoman who had served on the Atlantis when it was first out of the dock. T’shara hadn’t fit in there… would Kiela?

Kiela only had about an hour before the Atlantis docked at the Station. Once again in the stiff Starfleet uniform she’d been out of during her two weeks of leave, she found her mind on her future. To stave off the anxiety, she reached for her PADD and tried to do some work. A moment later, she put it down.

Kiela reached down and turned on the communications screen. She glanced at her chronometer and muttered to herself, “T’shara should be off-duty…” Deciding to see if she could make a routine “How’re you doing?” call a little more exciting, she rigged the screen to show blank, and added an overtone of static to the audio channel.

“Computer, contact the USS Halcyon. Patch message through to Senior Lieutenant Jaren’s quarters,” she commanded. There was a moment of silence, then the screen flared and read TRANSMISSION OPEN.

“Halcyon, this is Wi’Zhel of the Jazznian vessel Chardonnay,” Kiela said, trying to make her voice thin and reedy. “We have a hostage situation here and the captors are demanding the best helmswoman in the fleet. Can you help me, Halcyon?” Kiela let the static flare to cover the end of her phrase.

There was a moments pause, then an audible hiss. “Merienn Kiela!”

Kiela switched the visual on, and saw T’shara’s open features. They were grinning like mad.

“What are you trying to do, get us BOTH busted down to cadet?” T’shara demanded.

Kiela quirked a brow. “The Admiral would never bust you down to Cadet. She’d just make you repaint the ship. What color is the hull now?”

T’shara glanced down at her hands. “Um… pink.” She looked up at Kiela and laughed.

“Oh dear. Well, at least it’s not that terrible shad of lavendar anymore.” Kiela made a face in remembrance, then smiled. “It’s been too long, T’shara. I missed you.”

T’shara’s expression grew wistful. “I’ve missed you too. You KNOW there aren’t enough Bajorans in Starfleet, and then you had to get transferred to the Atlantis…”

Kiela nodded. She hadn’t told T’shara — or anyone besides the Admiral and Commander Ryan — that she’d requested that transfer. “Speaking of which,” she said, deftly steering the conversation away from dangerous arenas, “I’m nervous…” Unconciously, Kiela found herself wringing her hands.

T’shara grinned. “I remember “settling in” on the Atlantis… did I ever tell you about it?”

“No offense T’shara,” Kiela said soberly, “but if you tell that story one more time, it’s not just going to be worn out: it’s going to be in rags.”

“Well, it WAS quite a day,” T’shara said with a laugh, “Or two.”

“I guess things have changed since then. The new Captain’s named Grey. I don’t suppose you know anything about him?”

“No, sorry, I don’t,” T’shara answered. “But you will do fine.”

Kiela couldn’t supress a sigh, and swept a lock of dark hair away from her cheek. “Maybe.” She paused, glancing at a PADD on the table next to her, then gathered the courage to continue. “I looked at the roster, and there are a couple other Bajorans onboard. At least none of them are in my department. Once they find out, most Bajorans don’t want anything to do with me.” She paused again, then looked T’shara in they eye… or as close as she could come to it over a distance of light years. “You’re just about the only exception, T’shara.”

“I don’t think that’s quite true,” T’shara countered. “You just need to give them a chance to get to know you. And what about Tarine?”

Kiela nodded sharply, hiding her internal wince behind a glacial expression. “Tarine. Right. I guess he’s still on Halcyon?”

“He is,” T’shara affirmed. “Most Bajorans don’t know I’m Bajoran. Until they see the earring anyway. Then they wonder why I’m playing at being Bajoran.” She sighed. “It *does* get annoying.”

Kiela nodded sympathetically.

T’shara peered at Kiela, then cocked her head questioningly to the side. “Speaking of which what happened to yours?” she asked, gesturing to the finely wrought decoration hanging from her lobe.

Unconciously, Kiela lifter her hand to her bare earlobe. “Oh… I don’t wear it anymore,” she said. She paused, then added by way of explaination, “It’s not strictly regulation you know, and I didn’t want to annoy Commander Grey right off.”

T’shara seemed to accept that explanation. She grinned. “I suppose not. The Admiral not only said that I could wear mine… but that she applauded my tasteful accessorizing.” She laughed. “She really did!”

“That’s the Admiral for you, I guess,” Kiela offered fondly. “Good friends are few and far between, T’shara. I’ve been lucky. I just hope my luck stretches out.”

“You aren’t just lucky, Kiela.”

The chronometer on Kiela’s desk chirped, and Kiela noticed the time. “I should go…”

“So soon?”

“Yes. I want to be a little early for the Commander. I gather he’s a military type.”

“All right,” T’shara said, then added warningly, “But if anyone has intercepted the first part of this transmission, you may be called to testify at my court martial.”

Kiela laughed. “I want to hug you, but I don’t guess it’s feasible. Take care, ok? And don’t run the ship into anything. I’ll call again soon.”

“Me? Crash the ship?” T’shara mocked being affronted. “Never! Shall I say hi to Tarine for you?”

Kiela stopped cold, and chewed on her bottom lip. “No,” she said quickly and quietly. “Don’t bother. Thanks for asking though. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Ensign!” T’shara snapped a sharp salute which Kiela quickly mirrored. Kiela reached to switch off the screen, but stopped as T’shara continued, “Dear Kiela… may the prophets walk with you.”

“The Prophets…” Kiela repeated, their name still bitter on her tongue. “May they be kind to you too.”

Kiela bit her lip, and turned toward Commander Grey who had finished looking through the merchandise and was continuing down the promenade. My time on the Halcyon wasn’t all good, she reminded herself, thinking of Tarine and the earring she’s forsworn, I’ll make friends here.

She followed him into the gloomy bowels of mercantile Kelranni, and into her future.