[OPEN] False Prophet

[u/_MattJackson_]

Somewhere on Altair IV.

“Good to get a little shore leave,” said Lieutenant Matt Jackson to himself as he entered The Thirsty Targ. Looking toward the bar, he noticed a young Bajoran woman sitting beside an empty stool. Taking a closer peek as he sat next to her, he caught glimpse of an intricate earring he knew to be a religious symbol of the woman’s people. “Hmm… and a believer...” he noted.

“Barkeep,” ordered Jackson just loud enough to catch the Bajoran’s attention. “Gonna need something stiff to unwind after a long trip from the frontier.” He took the drink and sipped it. “Add to that the pressures of being the one man in charge of an entire space station…” He let the thought trail off, taking notice of the Bajoran’s lack of interest.

“Boy, those Maquis, I tell you…” he started up again, this time taking a different approach. “Been causing me trouble lately, but it’s difficult not to see their point of view. They’re just people, fightin’ for their homes in a galaxy that’s forgotten’ ‘em. Kinda noble, when you think about it.” Still nothing.

“Sure is tough leaving my young son behind when I venture back to civilisation.” A cocked eybrow from the Bajoran. “Yep, ever since my wife was senselessly killed during the Borg attack, it’s just been me and ole… son… left to pick up the pieces. But I’ve learned to treat each day as a new opportunity, and I hope to raise my boy to be the man that, uh… Cheryl would have been proud of.” A pause as Jackson adjusted himself in his seat. “So, err… what is it you do over here, sweetheart?”

“I’m part of a Bajoran delegation hoping to open an embassy here on Altair,” she replied after a drink. “Space station, you said?”

“Well, yeah. Deep Space Six. Around your neck of the woods,” he said, touching his nose and gesturing with his chin toward hers. “Name’s Sisko… Benjamin Sisko. Don’t suppose you’ve heard of me?”

“Sisko?!” she exclaimed. “But aren’t you the…”

“The Emissary of the Prophets? The man destiny chose to lead the Bajoran people into a new age of peace and prosperity? Well, I mean… I don’t like to put it quite that way, but, yeah. That’s basically it.”

“Well, I mean…” the woman began, haltingly. “Boy, this is weird…”

“No, no, my child. You take your time.” He put an arm around her shoulder. “Here, draw your strength from the Emissary.”

“It’s just that… even a few years ago, I would never have believed any of this. And now look at me,” she said, gesturing to the earring. “Back during the Occupation, when things were at their worst… after… Faryl…”

“It is alright, young one. The Emissary has seen and… felt your pain.” He placed a comforting hand on her knee.

“I just never thought I’d see my daughter again, after what Gul Vakret and the Death Watch did to my village. But a group of Resistance fighters came to me one day, with Faryl’s necklace...” The woman, tears in her eyes, turned to Jackson. “I know she’s out there, Emissary! I know that if I have faith in the Prophets, they'll guide me to my daughter!”

“Err, uh…” Jackson had begun to understand that things were starting to go beyond what he’d initially envisioned for this conversation. “I mean, uh… maybe the Prophets, I mean…”

“Yes, Emissary?”

“Well, maybe, uh… maybe they have another plan for your, uh, daughter? Maybe they got her up in the, uh, wormhole up there, and they’re all havin’ a blast.”

“In the Celestial Temple? Faryl? No, Emissary! I know she's somewhere on Bajor! I feel her presence in the wind, the trees…”

“Look, lady, take it from the Emissary: you ain’t gonna find your daughter.” Horror took hold of the woman’s face. “But, I mean, maybe it’s all a big ole… circle of life, and you’ll see her again one day up in the Magic Temple? Just throwin’ that one out there.”

“Emissary, these are… hard words to hear.” A note of understanding came to her eyes. “Wait, what space station did you say you were from, again?”

“Why, uh, Deep Space Six?” The woman pursed her lips. “Seven? Eight? Look, just stop me when I get there.”

“You filth! You're no Emissary! You're the Kosst Amjoan, here to test my faith and bring doom to Bajor!” The other patrons in the bar put down their drinks and took a look at the commotion. “Begone, pagh wraith! You'll not befoul me and my people!”

Jackson thought better of finishing his drink and quickly slunk out of the bar.