5 Years, Minimum

Posted on Tue May 6th, 2025 @ 7:32am by Ensign [DECEASED] Rimal Iska & Lieutenant Commander Finnley Keating VII

Mission: Character Development
Location: Bajor
Timeline: 2391
1689 words - 3.4 OF Standard Post Measure

Rimal swallowed nervously, wringing his hands together as he waited for his dad at the kitchen table. It was career day at school, and the 17 year-old had a couple of pamphlets for things that interested him. Ever since the harsh berating for getting a B in history, he'd been even more timid and anxious to share things with his father. The PADD in front of him felt ominous, like a manifestation of the knot in his stomach. He hoped he wouldn't disappoint his father, that maybe he would see Rimal as the adult he nearly was and that it might change things.

The door to the humble home opened and a small light creeped in, mostly shadowed by the robust figure of Emje. He placed his bag by the door and proceeded towards the kitchen for a much needed drink only to find his son sitting at the table. "Rimal," he said as he grabbed a cup. "Why aren't you in your room, attending to your studies?"

The deep voice made Rimal tense slightly, glancing at the PADD in front of him. "I finished it already, Father," he answered. Swallowing the nervous knot in his throat, he continued. "There wasn't much assigned because of Career Day."

"AH! Career day, I almost forgot. How did your conversation go with the recruiters? You remembered everything I taught you, I'm sure?" He asked.

Rimal nodded, looking at the PADD again. "Yes, sir, I did. I... erm... I made a list of what interested me." Having grown up hearing many stories from the Occupation, the teenager knew that his father was very passionate about the security of Bajor. There had always been an underlying assumption that a life offering security and protection would eventually grow on Rimal, but he hated the shooting lessons even two years later.

"A list?" Emje lifted a brow both interested and confused as to what a list could provide. Perhaps the security forces had multiple options these days. "Well, let's see it then." He tapped a finger on the table impatiently.

With another nod, Rimal slid the PADD over, trying to get a read on his father's reaction as he read the contents. He knew the list in his head: Accounting for the Inter-Planetary Relations Office; some other number-crunching positions throughout the provisional government, an internship with the diplomatic branch of the Political Affairs Office, and the one he was most interested in but the most anxious about, a record-keeper at the Capitol's library. The teenager wrung his fingers together under the table as he waited for a response, torn between wanted to identify Emje's reaction and wanting to avoid eye contact.

Emje maintained a calm composure though on the inside he was boiling with rage. None of these positions were what they had discussed. "I think you gave me the wrong list, son. None of these are security positions."

"I... don't want to work in security."

The words were quiet, practically a whisper, but in the stifling silence of the kitchen they were practically deafening. Rimal swallowed his nerves, practically feeling the tension thicken as he waited for a response. Growing up he hated conflict, the morning PT to ensure he grew up strong. Every subtle nudge that told him to stand straight like a real soldier, every criticism for something in his room being out of place, it replayed in his mind. While he understood the bravery of the Resistance against the Occupation, he couldn't see himself living a life of rigidity.

Emje stood in total silence. He had expected much of Rimal over the years and he knew that sometimes he had perhaps pushed too hard. Although it may have been a tougher life than most Bajoran children his age had known, Emje still felt he had been doing the boy a kindness in preparing him for the life ahead, because he had always assumed that he would follow in his footsteps. To want nothing to do with a life in security was one choice that Emje hadn't prepared for.

"Why?" Were the only words that eventually escaped from his tight lips. He sank into the chair across from Rimal as he awaited an answer, feeling a mix of confusion and disappointment.

The one word felt like a slap to the face. Rimal didn't want to answer, he didn't want to disapppoint his father, but he also couldn't disappoint himself either. "It's... too rigid, Father. I-I respect what the resistance cells did to liberate Bajor, but I don't want to be a fighter. I want to find other ways of maintaining peace."

"We're not fighting anymore, Rimal. We're protecting. Protecting everything we fought so hard to gain!" Emje threw his hands up in frustration "Is that not important?!"

"There are other ways to protect what we have!" Rimal countered. He clasped his hands together tightly under the table, adrenaline banging against his ribcage like a drum. "I want to be a diplomat, Father. Protection includes negotiation, and treaties."

"Treaties? Negotiations? And how does that...paperwork, keep the peace when treaties are broken and negotiations fail?! Nothing! Nothing other than the security forces. Do you really think the Cardassians will abide by some pieces of paper you drum up?! Who have you become? Certainly no son of mine." Emje slammed his fist on the table before turning away to gather his thoughts. He hadn't meant the last part, yet the air in the room was still filled with disappointment.

The sudden bang made Rimal flinch, and he turned his gaze downward. It made sense to nudge him a certain way when he was younger, but it was his life. He should be able to choose, however he felt torn between being happy and doing what his father wanted. He felt guilty, for no other reason than knowing that he disappointed his father. "And how do the security forces know when it's time to defend Bajor?" He asked. Come on, act like the diplomat you want to be. Rimal kept his distance as he stood, looking at his father's back. "It's my life, why should I spend it doing something I don't want to do??"

Emje whipped around. "Because a planet's worth of people is more important than just you and your desire to do what you want to do. Someone has to make the sacrifice to protect the others that are too weak to do it themselves." The words themselves spit from his mouth like daggers implying that his own son must be weak if he was not willing to take a stand.

"There's other ways to protect people!" While Rimal seemed confident enough, inside he was utterly terrified and he was scared that his father could see it. "There's other ways to protect Bajor than using weapons! Knowledge protects us! Relationships protect Bajor!! We didn't use weapons to prevent a famine, we used diplomacy to get the support we needed!"

"Thats total bull! You don't even know what you're talking about and unless you enlist, you'll never know. You'll never realize how important the security forces and how all of these other ways to protect people don't really matter unless you have the military to back it!" Emje was seething.

Rimal's cheeks grew warm as his confidence shattered in the face of his father's anger. Each word served to remind him of his place, as someone only granted the privilege of living under Emje's roof because he was family. His figure shrank slightly as he glanced at the PADD that contained his dreams, knowing that it was out of reach as long as he lived here.

Emje heaved a heavy breath, trying to calm down. He put a hand to his head, frustrated with how this conversation had gone. Finally the silence broke. "A compromise," he said, lightly. "That should appeal to you, with your preferences for diplomacy," his words were almost menacing. "Do one round of enlistment. 5 years. Then, if you still don't agree with me...do whatever you want."

That admittedly surprised Rimal, and he looked up at his father's disappointed face. Usually, he would yell a bit more before making him run laps or something until he collapsed. It could still happen, but this was a change he wasn't expecting. "Can I choose the branch I go into?" he asked, knowing it was risky given the tension in the room but wanting to see the extent of this compromise so he could negotiate. He knew Starfleet had several tracks, and if his father granted him the ability to choose...

There was a silence that sat in the room for a moment as Emje wondered if he should cave further into the request of his son, but ultimately decided that the branch didn't matter as much as the service. "Fine, you can choose the branch you go into."

Slowly, Rimal nodded. "Thank you, Father." The subtle defeat in his tone gave away how much he hated this compromise, but it meant he eventually got to do what he wanted. The price of doing what he actually wanted to do was just the cost of his early career. "Is Starfleet something you'd agree to? I-I know it's not the security forces here on Bajor..."

"Fine," he shot back a look that said 'this had better be your final negotiation point' before sitting down at the table. Emje stared at his son for a minute. At the foreigner that was so different from the boy he had trained to join the security forces and for a minute, he wonder. What went wrong?

Rimal swallowed the knot in his throat at the glare his father gave him, watching him sit at the table. "I... know it's not what you wanted," he said quietly, "but I'll give it an honest effort, I promise."

Emje curtly nodded and then stood up. He looked like he might say something for a moment, but then his face tightened. Almost as if he was disgusted by what he saw in front of him. And then he left.