Combat Bonding

Posted on Sun Jan 4th, 2026 @ 11:52pm by Technical Sergeant Decker & Chief Warrant Officer Karzen Son of Arjune, Son of Ragan MD, MPH

1,733 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: A New Dawn
Location: DS9

Karzen sat at a table by himself, sipping from a glass of applejack. The brand was the real thing, 'jacked' the old-fashioned way, by freeze distilling hard cider to make a kind of apple brandy. Hard cider was frozen, and then the ice was removed. The remaining liquid contained 20%-40% alcohol. The stuff in Karzen's glass was easily in the very high 30s, if not 40%. The flavor was strong and sweet, and the alcohol content left a pleasant burning sensation in his throat.

Karzen had been introduced to the drink by a Vulcanoid Rigelian (also known as a Zami), whose clan had acquired appleseeds from human colonists on Rigel IV almost two centuries ago and had since cultivated apple trees and built a brisk business in everything from apple juice to applejack. Their apple sauce wasn't bad either. A Jewish doctor, Karzen, used to serve it with potato latkes on Hanukkah. As for the man who'd introduced Karzen to applejack, Karzen was reasonably sure he was some spy in the employ of Starfleet Intelligence. Be that as it may, the liquor was good, and sometimes Daytona Ral sent him a small case. Karzen hadn't been able to get any during the hard years in the Zone, but now that the war was over and he could travel freely again, here the old Klingon was, enjoying a glass of Ral's apple hooch.

After finishing his second, no third beer, Decker looked around, and there he was, the 'Doc'. Remembering Aleshanee's words, he grabbed his fourth, potentially fifth, beer and walked over to his table. "Seat open?" He asked, deciding he needed to be better and give the 'Doc' a chance.

Karzen looked up and saw Decker. He gestured to the empty chair at his table. "Please," he said. "Join me."

Decker took a seat across from the Klingon, "....so I believe we got off on the wrong foot, and well, I guess I am here to fix that," Decker added quickly.

Karzen shrugged. "I am well known for not always being the friendliest of people," he said. "Nor the easiest to get along with. I'm more of a grumpy old country doctor than a kindly old country doctor. At times, crotchety... cantankerous even. The long and the short," Karzen paused for just a split second to let a wry, self-deprecating grin appear on his face. "Emphasis on the long, because why use one word when you can use ten, is that the responsibility for you and me getting off on the wrong foot is shared between us. For my part, I apologize."

"No need to apologize, hell, it is a sign of weakness, I don't fully agree with it, but no need to apologize for who you are, actually, don't do that, 'll piss me off more," Decker said, chuckling. "Anyways, I think we just need to figure out how to work and live with one another's personalities," Decker said, taking a swig of his beer.

Karzen raised an eyebrow. Apologies and regret were a part of life, a way of taking responsibility. Decker, in his own way, had done so by claiming responsibility for the disagreement. "Yes," Karzen said. "We do." He raised his glass. "Absent friends," he said, and took a sip. Then he laughed. "You should probably understand that while I intend to be respectful of your thoughts and feelings, I wouldn't, if I were you, think I am going to walk around the ship worrying about whether or not something I do or say is going to piss you off."

"That is fair, as I'll be doing that as well, don't have enough life in me to do that, minus with a few people or really one person," he added as he relaxed a little bit more.

Karzen nodded. "So you have a person?" he said. "I once had a person. It didn't work out, but she made me the father of a wonderful son, so I think I came out ahead. He's an engineer. Bold and honorable, clever and intelligent, courageous and compassionate, and wise beyond his years. Good qualities to be found in one's offspring, I think. Don't you?"

"I do," Decker said. As for the offspring comment, he couldn't imagine until he had his own, "I suppose so, as I don't have one of my own, I do not know, until I have one of my own." Decker added.

"I suppose you are correct," Karzen said. "I also suppose that if I replaced the word offspring with person, you might find it easier to agree, yes?" Karzen drained his glass. He looked at it for a moment. "I'm going to get another of these and probably something to eat. Hasperat, I think. Despite my age, I can, on occasion, handle strong liquor and spicy food at the same time. Would you like anything?"

Before he could answer, he was up getting ready for another round, and food, "a beer, thanks," Decker said as his mind sat on that question he asked.

After a few moments, Karzen returned with his glass of applejack and a beer for Decker. He'd just asked the bartender what Decker had ordered and then told her to give him another. He placed the beer on the table in front of Decker and returned to his seat. "Absent friends," he said, then took a sip from his glass. "You'll have to forgive me for offering up that toast often as we drink. I'm just over 100 years old, and, as I probably mentioned, I spent three decades as a combat pilot and I survived the Cardassian Border Wars, the Federation-Klingon War, and the Dominion War, all on the border with the Cardassian Union or in the DMZ. I have a lot of absent friends. Most of them enjoyed a libation from time to time. Seems only fitting to toast them now and again."

Decker raised his old beer in a toast, "Yes to lost friends, companions, and allies," Decker said before finishing that beer in one swig. The 'doc's' military career was impressive; he had about 40 years on him. "It seems we were bred for this kind of life," he said as he took a swig of his new beer.

"Most people think that of Klingons," Karzen said. "Of course, while I was in the military for the three decades or so I spent as a fighter pilot. I flew for the Nyberitte Alliance. Then I went to university, then to medical school, then a residency, and then I found myself on the border with the Cardassian Union, a doctor with the Federation Frontier Health Service. I met my wife there in the outmarches." Karzen sobered. "I was on Setlik III when the Cardassians hit. They called it a massacre, and it was just that. Brutal. Bloody. Unforgiving. Killing without honor. Mere slaughter." Karzen took a breath to clear his thoughts. "I tried to join Starfleet after that. Unfortunately, the famous Commander Worf, now Ambassador Worf, hadn't joined Starfleet yet, and apparently, I didn't fit the bill to be the first Klingon in Starfleet. So, I stayed with the Frontier Health Service and made sure I was stationed on the border, where I felt I could do the most good." Karzen smiled slightly. "But come now, shipmate, whom I hope to call friend someday. You can't let an old man like me go on and on about 'the old days'. We'll drink the bar dry before I'm done! Come, my tight-lipped shipmate. Share a story or two with an old man. Despite my ability to tell story after story, I appreciate hearing the stories of others."

A server brought Karzen his sandwich, along with a hard cider for Karzen and another beer for Decker.

"Here you go, Doctor," the waitress said. "Enjoy!"

"Thank you, my dear," Karzen said, slipping her a gratuity. "So, where were we? Ah, yes! You were going to tell me a part of your life story. It will be easier now that my food is here. I eat these days slowly and make it a rule never to talk with my mouth full."

Most of Decker's missions were still classified, and there was little chance they would ever be unclassified. Decker's unit was known as SICAROS, all in caps. They took, or in reality were assigned, all the kill missions, or a good chunk of them. They also conducted some hostage rescues and militia training, which is why he ended up with the Maquis. "Let's just say if my missions ever come unclassified," he stopped and took a long swig of his beer, "....well, I would not be receiving any pardons," he added.

"At the time orders were orders, and truthfully what I thought we were doing was for the greater good, now I don't know," Decker muttered, *...I do not doubt in my mind that what we did saved lives, but how many more threats did we make?" he added.

"That, shipmate, is one of the great conundrums of the universe," Karzen said. He raised his glass. "In honor of the greater good!" he growled. "And the hope that someone figures out what exactly the greater good is, preferably before we all kill each other in the name of it."

"Here, here," Decker said simply as he finished his beer, "it's been a pleasure, but I'd better get back," he said about the ship.

"Hmmm..." Karzen said. "Yes, well, I still have my room at the station. While I'm Klingon enough to rough it when I need to, I'm Rihannsu enough to know when to enjoy creature comforts. After I finish this drink, I will return to said room. Since our waitress told me, apropos of nothing whatsoever, that she would be off in the next fifteen minutes or so, it seems I will not be doing that by myself." Karzen grinned a feral grin. "Past my prime, maybe, but not dead yet. I should have a pin that says that. Be that as it may, Goodnight, Sergeant Decker. I look forward to our upcoming adventures. Though not as much as I look forward to the adventure I intend to have this evening. No offense." Karzen shot back his drink and strode, not entirely steady on his feet, over to the waitress in question.

Decker had to chuckle at that. "Good luck," was all he said as he walked away.

 

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