An Idea

Posted on Mon Feb 24th, 2025 @ 10:01pm by Reittan Ral

Mission: 01-A Change
Location: **Deep Space K-17- Various**
Timeline: MD01-0900Hours

Reittan Ral stepped out of the medical bay with a slow, measured breath, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the lingering sterility of Starfleet’s touch. The hum of biobeds still thrummed faintly in his ears, an impersonal rhythm of efficiency that never quite settled right against his skin. He parted ways with Liam with a kiss—unhurried, familiar, a silent promise in the way their fingers brushed before letting go. This was Liam’s station, his assignment. Reittan was here by choice, not by duty. And yet, the pull was the same.

Seven months had passed since the peace talks collapsed, and Deep Space K-17 still felt like it was half-formed, caught between its past and whatever future Starfleet intended for it. Even in the civilian sectors, the air carried the faint scent of fresh polymer and the metallic tang of a refit not yet settled. He could feel it beneath his own feet too—that same sense of uncertainty, the awkwardness of adjusting to something new. He had no uniform here. No formal role. Just a presence that, as always, had followed where Liam led.

The corridors were quiet but not lifeless, a subdued pulse of station life beating beneath the surface. Reittan let his feet carry him toward Jahlet Park, where the overhead lighting had been dimmed to mimic the first hues of dawn. The effect was subtle but deliberate, a calculated attempt at tranquility. It almost worked. He walked the winding path lined with small clusters of greenery, inhaling the crisp scent of oxygen recyclers mingling with real, living plants.

A handful of people dotted the space—a pair of older Bajoran women murmuring softly on a bench, a young Andorian curled up with a PADD, a lone Cardassian carefully tending to a cluster of thick-leafed vines. Reittan watched them for a moment, the small and quiet routines that made a place feel lived in, then moved on.

The promenade was livelier, the hushed calm of the park replaced with something more erratic. Vendors arranged displays behind vintage-style storefronts, their neon signage casting jewel-toned reflections across the floor. A Ferengi pitched aggressively to a pair of unimpressed Tellarites, gesturing wildly toward a selection of gaudy trinkets. A human trader balanced a crate on his hip while arguing into a communicator. It was messy, disjointed, alive. A station finding its own pulse.

Further ahead, the flickering neon of Delirium spilled onto the deck, even now, long before its peak hours. He smirked, already hearing the echo of bass in his mind, imagining the way the club would swell and breathe when the night took hold. Delirium was not a place of restraint—it was a riot of color and movement, of indulgence and freedom. He liked that.

Then he saw it.

A vacant storefront, unassuming, its darkened windows offering nothing but empty space within. Reittan slowed his steps, drawn in by something intangible. The door was unmarked. The space wasn’t large, but it had height, a certain openness that felt… right. He stepped closer, fingers brushing absently over the frame as he peered inside.

The Betazoid silks, he could see them already—rich, deep colors cascading from the ceiling, catching the station’s artificial light in ways that softened the edges of the room. Low, intimate seating. A place for hushed conversation, for warmth, for the kind of connections that needed quiet spaces to bloom. The scent of real tea steeping, not just replicator facsimiles, but hand-selected leaves steeped in delicate ceramic pots. Botanical spirits, poured slowly, shared over low laughter and flickering candlelight.

A Betazoid tea room.

Reittan exhaled sharply, almost amused at the certainty of the thought.

Absurd, wasn’t it? He’d never seen himself as a businessman. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be one. But the idea nestled itself inside his chest, warm and insistent, refusing to let go.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this station could be home.

The thought lingered as he turned away, continuing on toward the apartment he and Liam would share. But now, inspiration trailed in his wake, the first threads of something new weaving themselves into place.