Listening the most powerful tool

Posted on Sun Nov 9th, 2025 @ 8:37am by Ziveh Bex & Lieutenant Kesden Lokn

1,948 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: A New Dawn
Location: VIP Guest Quarters

Ziv sighed as she exhaled a billow of smoke, which the environmental systems would sense as just oxygen and some carbon dioxide. But the young blond woman was getting high and, at the moment, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with everything that had happened with the talks.

Ziv felt like she was losing her edge as she let out another billow of smoke and allowed her mind to shut down a little. Until the chime of her quarters went off, she said, "wha, who in the....," but then she got up and answered, "Yes?"

"It's Lieutenant Lokn," a man's voice softly responded over the small intercom by the door. Standing on the other side, dressed in black with his hands in his jacket pockets, was Lokn. "Can we talk? Or is this a bad time?"

Hitting the button to open the door, "We can talk, depending on what you want to talk about," Ziv said as she took another puff of what she was smoking.

His eyes took in everything about her, and her demeanor made him hesitate, as did what she was smoking. Shit, this isn't a good sign either; she hadn't been gone long. His soft voice asked, "Your meeting with Starfleet...how did it go?"

Ziv chuckled as she walked back into her quarters. "How did it go?" she repeated with another chuckle, before taking another drag. "The Federation is cocky," but she stopped as she realized who she was talking to, "sorry, please make yourself comfortable, anything to drink?"

"No, thank you," Kesden said as he walked inside, preferring to stand, and no apology was necessary. I understand more than you know." He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on her thoughtfully, which was easy. "Can I help?"

Ziv chuckled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, but I would never wish that on my worst enemy." Ziv added as she took a seat and took another puff, before giving the Maquis a grin, "Care for a puff?" Ziv asked.

Kesden shook his head slightly. "No, thank you. I prefer to keep my head clear." He paused, glancing around her quarters, thinking There had been a time... before meeting her eyes again. "I get the sense that whatever happened in that meeting has left you… unsettled."

Ziv took one more puff before putting it out, again choosing her words carefully, the diplomat in her always working. "...unsettled isn't the correct term, I am more frustrated with the bullshit fears that the Federation has, and the prejudice they have for a people just trying to survive," Ziv said, unable to remain calm.

Kesden nodded slowly, his expression understanding but reserved. "I can see that. It’s difficult when voices, whether diplomatic or ideological, drown out the needs of real people. And I imagine that frustration runs deep." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I’ve been through my own share of misunderstandings and mistrust. It’s part of what fuels my desperation to find common ground."

He shifted slightly, leaning subtly against the wall. "You’re fighting on multiple fronts, and that’s exhausting. But I believe that sometimes, the smallest gestures, an open ear, a shared silence, can be the first step toward something better." His eyes searched hers, honest and steady. "If I can help, even just to listen without judgment, I want to do that."

Ziv's demeanor shifted back to her usual softness, "Thank you, I really appreciate that," she said as she took a deep breath, "I just had higher hopes from the Federation, and not just be blinded by fear, or at least realized that the reason the Maquis existed was their fault," she added.

Kesden nodded thoughtfully, considering her words. "Sometimes, institutions like the Federation become so rooted in their own ideals that they forget the human, or in this case, the people's cost." He paused, then added softly, "But change often starts with voices like yours; strong, clear, and willing to challenge the status quo. And I believe there’s power in that."

He stepped away from the wall, his tone thoughtful as he began to circle around. “In my experience, understanding doesn’t come solely from confrontation; it also comes from listening to what remains unsaid: our fears, hopes, and regrets. I’ve found that when people realize they are truly being heard, even the deepest divides can start to close.” He looked at her with sincerity. “So, I’m here because I want to listen. If I can offer some perspective, perhaps it will be a small step toward the better future we're both hoping for.”

"You should have been a diplomat," Ziv said with a chuckle, "...or at least a counselor," she added, realizing she wasn't sure which cell this man came from. "May I ask what Maquis cell you were, or I guess are a part of?"

Kesden’s lips curved faintly. “I’ve heard that before,” he said, his tone steady, thoughtful. “But I’ve learned listening doesn’t always heal, it just helps you keep standing.” Then he paused for a beat before continuing. “Before the Lovelace, I worked the frontier, kept outposts alive, fixed ships the Federation had written off. Joined her not long after, and I’ve been here since.” A quiet shrug followed. “Guess that makes it home, for better or worse. The fight keeps changing, the reason doesn’t.”

He studied her for a moment, his gaze steady but not intrusive. She carried the kind of hope he’d long stopped trusting in—yet somehow, he found himself wanting her to prove him wrong.

Ziv nodded, "All noble deeds, your captain is Aleshanee. From what I recall, she has a quiet reputation as one of the best pilots the Maquis has ever seen. How is she as a captain?"

"She's everything that makes her a great pilot," he smiled knowingly.

Ziv nodded, formulating her next moves, "Are you comfortable with telling me about what you did as a Maquis cell, and what your SOP (standard operating procedures) were?" Ziv asked.

Kesden’s expression had softened at the mention of Aleshanee, a flicker of quiet pride crossing his features. But when Ziv asked her next question, his posture shifted; still calm, but with a trace of amusement. Inwardly, always cautious.

“Our procedures?” He gave a quiet chuckle. “That’s generous. The Maquis didn’t have manuals; we had instinct. We stayed light, moved often, and targeted what really mattered: supply lines, mostly. Food, medicine, power cells. Things that kept the colonies breathing.” He paused, studying her for a moment before continuing. "We didn’t fight to win territory. We fought so people didn’t have to die forgotten. If we had an SOP, that was it."

Even with his inhibitor dampening most of what others called instinct, he had caught the tone behind her question; open, sincere, and without any angle. He couldn’t feel much anymore, not like he used to, but sometimes that faint echo was enough. It eased something in him he hadn’t realized was tense. His smile lingered, faint and knowing. “I guess it’s funny—hearing it phrased that way. Makes it sound like someone was ever in charge.”

Ziv gulped, not an 'afraid' gulp, but a 'that is a burst of emotion' gulp, "Okay, this helps a lot. Apologies for dismissing what you were fighting for and how you went about it. I guess what I am looking for is understanding your choices, because that is what I have to defend, I need to prove that what you did was out of necessity instead of because 'we' can," she said, using the 'we' to describe all the Maquis cells.

Kesden listened without interrupting, his expression calm but intent. Her words carried something he didn’t expect: understanding, not pity, and that disarmed him more than confrontation ever could. "You don’t owe me an apology," he said softly. "Most people only saw the raids, the sabotage, the anger. They never saw the people behind it: the families, the outposts barely holding on. We weren’t fighting for ideology. We were fighting for air." He hesitated for a moment, then added more quietly, "And hearing someone try to see that for what it was… it means more than I can say."

His gaze held hers for a beat, the corners of his mouth lifting faintly. "You’ve got a hard job ahead of you. Convincing Starfleet that necessity isn’t defiance; that’s not easy. But if anyone can make them listen, it might be you." A small pause followed before he exhaled, almost a sigh. "I think we all just want to believe the fight led somewhere better."

"Thank you, I might have another approach, but it is going to require testimony from you and others to show them what you just told me." Ziv said, giving him a soft smile, "But I want you to understand this isn't exploitative, but they need to hear from a member of the Maquis why they did what they did, and that there weren't any other options, this was survival for not just you, but everyone in the DMZ," she added.

Kesden was quiet for a long moment, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. He didn’t sense any angle in her words, only conviction, but the request still made something inside him tighten. "Testimony," he echoed softly, almost tasting the word. "That’s not easy for most of us. Too many of those stories were never meant for official records… some of them can’t be."

He hesitated, gaze dropping briefly before returning to her. "There are things I can’t talk about...not because I won’t, but because they’re still sealed. Starfleet made sure of that. And the parts that aren’t classified…" he drew a slow breath, "...they’re not easy to relive."

For a heartbeat, he caught something faint; an echo through the inhibitor, like a warmth carried through fog. Her sincerity. It wasn’t sharp or prying, just there, steady and real. That, more than the words, made up his mind. "I’ll help," he said finally, voice quiet but certain. "If it means they’ll understand what survival really looked like, I’ll do it." A hint of a tired smile touched his lips. "Just… don’t expect me to enjoy the retelling."

Ziv let out a sigh, "and of course not, I want them to feel uncomfortable, feel the pain that you felt, I want them to know what a daily life was like for you," Ziv said, her eyes steely with determination.

Kesden gave a small, understanding nod, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. Her conviction was sharp; palpable even through the inhibitor. It stirred something in him: recognition, admiration, and the faint ache of memory. "I think I should go," he said quietly, not abrupt but certain. "You’ve got a lot ahead of you, and I’ve probably said more tonight than I meant to."

He started toward the door, steps unhurried. Halfway there, he paused, just for a breath. The air still carried the trace of her determination, bright and steady like a signal against the dark. He felt it more than sensed it. Turning slightly, his voice softened. "You’re doing the right thing, Ziv. Just… don’t let their fear turn you into another version of them."

A brief, faint smile. "Goodnight, Representative."

He left without another word, the quiet of the corridor closing behind him.

"Good night, and thank you for your kind words and your wisdom," Ziv said with a soft smile.

 

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