But I have a permit....
Posted on Sun Oct 26th, 2025 @ 11:00pm by Chief Warrant Officer Karzen Son of Arjune, Son of Ragan MD, MPH
831 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission:
A New Dawn
Location: Security Checkpoint, DS9
Timeline: Current
ON
Karzen stood in line to go through security at DS9. He knew he was going to get hassled. He had a pair of custom Klingon disruptor pistols in his bag and his large tajtiq dagger. He had acquired the appropriate documentation for transporting them all, and the pistols were stored as instructed, with the charge packs removed. The pistols required permits and and the dagger required a Cultural Weapons Exemption, which he barely qualified for. He was half-Klingon, but wasn’t raised in the Klingon Empire. His aging father had to send a notarized affidavit stating that Karzen had been raised in the best of both the Romulan AND Klingon traditions. One of the disadvantages of no longer being a citizen of a set of rogue colonies was more regulation. There would be more advantages than disadvantages in the long run, but in the immediate, this was a pain in the ass.
Karzen presented his ID and the documentation from both the Federation and the Bajoran Provisional Government for his weapons.
“Sir,” the deputy constable said. “I’m going to need to hold onto those while you’re here.”
Karzen looked at the young deputy. The expression on the Klingon/Romulan physician’s face was not pleasant. “In that case,” he said. “May I invite you to kiss a targ’s ass? I have all of the appropriate documentation to possess all three weapons, and, under Federation and Bajoran regulations regarding cultural acceptance and inclusivity, I’m not only allowed to openly carry the tajtiq. That’s the dagger, in case you can’t read the form. The only reason I’m not carrying it is that it’s uncomfortable to carry it around when I’m sitting in a chair on a transport for several hours. It is a family heirloom going back generations. It was passed to me by my father when I graduated from the Nyberrite Alliance Enlisted Flight School. It is Klingon custom to carry a blade. I am a Klingon. Therefore, check off my passport and let me through.”
“Sir,” said the deputy, reaching for his phaser. “If you continue to behave in this belligerent manner, I will be forced to subdue and detain you!”
“Belay that!” came the voice of a Bajoran Sergeant from DS9’s constabulary. “Stand down, son,” she said.
“But Sergeant!” the deputy protested.
“I said stand down!” the Sergeant said. “Look, I’m trying to save your life, or at least help make sure your asshole maintains its current size.”
“Excuse me?” said the deputy, still angry, but now a bit confused.
“I am nearly one hundred percent certain that if you were to attempt to draw down on Doctor Karzen here,” the Sergeant said. “He would disarm you before you had a chance to shoot him and then proceed to ram your phaser up your ass. Get your hand away from your phaser and walk away. Now.”
The deputy took another look at Karzen, decided he might be in over his head and that discretion was the better part of valor. He slowly moved his hand away from his phaser, backed away, and then turned and left. The sergeant motioned for her partner to take over the entry line and got Karzen through the entry process with no problems.
“Sorry for the misunderstanding, Doctor,” the Sergeant said. “You probably don’t remember me. I was just a kid when we met, and even then, we only met in passing. I was in a refugee camp and you were a visiting doc there. You treated my mom when she got really sick. A bunch of people got sick. You treated them all and figured out what was causing the problem in the first place, got the camp cleaned up, and stopped everyone from getting sick. From that, anyway. You helped a lot of Bajorans back then. More later, in the DMZ. Somehow, I don’t think you come here to kill us all now with a pair of disruptors and a big knife. Welcome to DS9, Doctor.”
“I may not remember you,” Karzen said. “But I remember the camp. You are very brave and strong to have survived that place. You seem to have turned out well.”
“I do okay,” the Sergeant said, a grin on her face. “Well, I gotta get back to work. See ya around Doctor!”
The sergeant went back to her work and Karzen went on his way. He secured a room for himself and locked his pistols and other valuables in the safe in his room. He decided that since he’d won the battle of the great and powerful spirit of bureaucracy, he could safely wear his tajtiq on his belt as he explored the Promenade in search of a meal. He washed up, changed his clothing, affixed his tajtiq to his belt, and headed out.
OFF
Karzen, Son of Arjune, Son of Ragan, MD, MPH
Chief Physician (Soon to Be)
Ada Lovelace
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