Paying Respects to the Captain on the Dawn of the DCF

Posted on Sat Oct 31st, 2026 @ 6:08am by Commander Aleshanee & Chief Warrant Officer Karzen Son of Arjune, Son of Ragan MD, MPH

2,138 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Home Waters
Location: CO's Quarters

Karzen strode through the ship with purpose. He wasn't very tall (in fact, he was laughably short for a Klingon, less so for a Romulan), so he was less concerned about giving himself a traumatic brain injury on some low strut or coolant pipe, but still cautious. He was dignified enough not to want to deal with the embarrassment of braining himself after advising the crew to be careful. That simply would not do.

In one hand was a bottle of whiskey. It was open. He was perfectly happy to share a (small) bit of his rye whiskey, but he wasn't giving away his supply when, in order to save space on a ship that was a pancake with a nose, wings, some sort of bizarre arse sticking out of... okay. So flying pancake was a bad description. But it was definitely flatter than he'd like. But that wasn't important now. Karzen had brought only a few bottles, and he was hardly going to give one away to someone he barely knew just to celebrate the "liberation" of the "Demilitarized" Colonial Federation, whatever the hell that meant in the grand context of things. The Old Klingon hadn't really decided how he felt about the DCF yet. He was reserving judgment until its "government" proved it would descend into corruption, oppression, and violence, as most did. But this development did mean something to his Captain, so Karzen felt a drink was in order.

Ironically, the rye he liked was James E. Pepper 1776 Rye Whiskey. He knew that, to some humans in the central part of Earth's North American continent, that was the year their ancestral nation was born, a nation made up of colonies that separated from their mother country. That's what he brought to share with his captain. If she didn't know the story, it wouldn't matter; if she did, it would give them something to talk about. This would be helpful. Karzen was dreadful at small talk. He arrived at Commander Aleshanee's quarters, found the buzzer, and pressed it.

Aleshanee was out of uniform. Wearing something way more comfortable. Sitting at the small desk, she was looking at some other news. Mostly dealing with who they would be reporting to, which apparently was Central Fleet. "Enter." She called out simply, still figuring this part out, the whole being in-charge.

Karzen entered. "Congratulations, Captain," he said. "On the founding and official recognition of the Demilitarized Colonial Federation." With great effort, Karzen said the word demilitarized without the quotation marks that tended to appear around it in his head.

"I thought I might offer you a celebratory libation. North American Rye Whiskey. From somewhere called the 'Commonwealth of Kentucky'. The city of Lexington. I visited once, when on Earth for a medical conference. There's an entire district of the city devoted to distilling local liquor and brewing local beer and hard cider, if you can believe that."

Karzen walked up to Aleshanee's small desk and set down a wooden box with a gold Rod of Asclepius on the lid. He opened the box and turned it towards Aleshanee. Inside was a bottle of James E. Pepper 1776 Rye Whisky, 2/3rds or maybe 1/2 full, at most. Inside were two 'rocks' glasses, also ornately carved. One bore the symbol of his father's house; the other, his mother's house-clan.

"Please, choose either glass. The one on the left bears my mother's house-clan symbol, should you wish to savor, in some small way, a moment of solidarity with an impressive warrior and military leader. The other is my father's House. He was a wise warrior, wise enough to follow my mother's lead. He was also unafraid to share his opinion and counsel when appropriate, even when my mother didn't want to hear it. There would be no small irony in that choice, I'm sure."

Aleshanee was shocked, stunned. Stunned and shocked. Either way, she was taken aback, stumbling over her words. "Oh, um, right. Thank you." She said quickly, caught off guard again. "Oh, wow, these are beautiful." She said, picking up the glass with Karzen's mother's house symbol on it, and placed it in front of him. "Please take a seat."

"Thank you." Karzen sat, took the other glass and the bottle from the box. He poured 'an amount' of whiskey into each glass, erring on the side of caution as far how much of 'an amount' to pour into each glass. He raised his glass. "To the Demilitarized Colonial Federation, then, yes? May it soon find its way and go on to stumble only rarely, and then never too badly."

"Yes, to the DCF, and a new future. May it hopefully be bright and fruitful." Aleshanee added as she picked it up and gently raised it, and clinked it against the glass with Karzen's father's house symbol on it. "...so, I am assuming you have decided to stay?"

Karzen took in the aroma the rye in his glass gave off, the "nose." A strong, rye-forward aroma with prominent notes of clove, fresh mint, mint-honey tea, pine forest, dill, and a subtle touch of citrus and white pepper. He took a sip and let it linger on his palate a moment, enjoying the rich flavors of mint, eucalyptus, honey, rye spice, vanilla, baking spices, and the distinct peppery/herbal bite, before swallowing it and enjoying the lingering notes of black pepper, clove, mint, and subtle oak and citrus highlights.

"Was there a question of whether or not I would?" Karzen. "Hmmm... I suppose there was. Then you deserve an answer, which is... for the time being, yes, I intend to stay. My ongoing commitment to staying will depend on whether the DCF descends into zealotry, corruption, chaos, and/or violence, as these things often do. We'll see how they handle, for example, collaborators or those who tried to remain neutral. How they handle the remaining Cardassian colonists. Whether or not they start investigating people they feel don't support them enthusiastically enough. So, I will give the DCF time to find its footing, its stride, so to speak. But I will also be observing. It's possible I am... overestimating how much caution to apply to this situation. Call my suspicious nature a product of having a strong Romulan mother. She trusted nothing at first glance. I am not as suspicious as my mother. But neither am I a fool." He took another drink of his whiskey the same way he had taken the first. "So, what's next for us, now that we are official? What's next for you? Will you be remaining as Captain of the Ada?"

"That is fair," Aleshanee said, taking her first sip. It was a bit strong for her. But what it meant was bigger.

"We get assigned to a fleet. Right now, the CDF is split into three fleets. Northern Fleet, Central Fleet, and finally Southern Fleet. I am gonna assume we'll be either Northern or Central depending on where they feel we need to be. And this could also switch after we get the core worlds up and running and we continue to move out to help the border colonies."

"For right now we are heading home. And we'll get some good RnR while we are at it." Aleshanee added.

"And where do you call home, Commander?" Karzen asked.

"Panora Prime. My uncle raised me at his ranch, the Ironroot. One of the few longest-running ranches within the DMZ. How about you? What colony have you called home?"

Karzen frowned. "Many," he said. "I joined the Federation Frontier Health Service in 2329. My work took me to a fair number of worlds in what is now the DCF, a bit more than 4 decades before the DMZ was created. It was a dangerous time. The Cardassians made first contact with the Bajorans in 2318, but in 2328 they officially annexed Bajor, so in addition to Federation colonists, we soon had Bajoran refugees to care for. Meanwhile, the Cardassians were watching the Federation colonize world after world on their border, worlds with precious resources the Cardassian Union coveted, and in fact needed." Karzen looked into his whiskey glass for a moment, raised it to his lips, breathed in the aroma, then took another sip. "I was on Setlik III when the Cardassians attacked."

Aleshanee listened. She knew some of the pre-DMZ history, most of it rewritten by the Cardassians or the Federation, or really both depending on what side of the border you were on. Post-DMZ history was still all too fresh. And the Setik III Massacre was, "...did you lose anyone?" Aleshanee asked softly, looking up from her whiskey.

"I was married by then, and it was before my wife decided she had grown weary of being my wife," Karzen replied. "My son was eleven. We only ever had one child." The old Klingon drained his glass and stared into it. "Fortunately, I didn't actually live on Setlik III. It was a temporary assignment. The 'colony' wasn't any more than an outpost at the time. At most, there were 150 people, and my wife and child weren't among them. There were supposed to be, but my wife and I had one of our not-infrequent disagreements, and she chose not to come with me, saying she didn't want our son that far out on the frontier without her. There was an IDC... Independent Duty Corpsman... and a few regular corpsmen, all from the USS Rutledge, and we ran the clinic together. We saved serious cases for when the Rutledge was available, or did the best we could on our own."

Karzen sighed. "I was distracted, angry, and in a foul mood most of the time. I know it's hard to imagine that last part. I didn't get close to my patients, and because I was so disgusted with the universe, I didn't get close to my colleagues and neighbors. I never took the time to learn a damned thing about any of them. And within what amounts to, in the galactic grand scheme of things, a brutal, bloody, and at once slow-motion blink of an eye, over two-thirds of them were dead. And I couldn't tell you the first thing about any of them. So I mourn not people I knew, but rather people I never took the opportunity to get to know, who I never let in, never shared an intimate moment with, not because they didn't try, but because I was focused inward. That is not a mistake I wanted to make again. My efforts to avoid repeating such a mistake, as you might imagine given my demeanor, are not often successful. Nonetheless, I valiantly, if I do say so myself... and I do... endeavor to persevere."

Aleshanee just listened. It was what made her a good second officer, XO, and well, time will tell if it'll make her a good CO. "Not repeating the same mistakes and continuing to learn." She said softly as she took another sip. Letting the silence just sit there for a minute. It wasn't awkward; it was a we are finally understanding each other kind of silence after a simple cheers.

"Hmm... perhaps," Karzen said. He drained his glass. His voice took on a serious tone. "Before I take my whiskey and go on my merry way, I offer you a bit of unsolicited advice. I apologize in advance for what may be perceived as negativity. The recent struggles in the DMZ and the achievement of independence may attract to positions of leadership, influence, and power some of the best hearts and the brightest minds. But you can be absolutely certain it will also bring forth those who seek only to advance their own fortunes. These will seek to deceive you and use you to further themselves and their interests. They will discard you and us when we no longer serve their purpose. They will lay the blame for their misdeeds on us and be free and clear to move on to their next scheme. Be on your guard. I would hate to see you taken down by such scheming because you trusted the wrong people, and I would hate to see this crew taken down with you for the same misstep."

Aleshanee finished her glass and set it down in front of Karzen. "Thank you for sharing your whiskey with me. It truly means a lot." Aleshanee said as she slowly stood.

"Appreciate the wise words. As well as wanting to make sure that this crew and I stay true to ourselves and the values we have been living by, regardless of whether those were the values of the Maquis. And we'll heed these words carefully. And with you as our doctor, I can say with fair certainty that you'll keep us on the right path, or at least remind us what that path is."

 

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