Star Trek: Nexus

"Captain's log. Stardate 87107.9

The Nexus is in high orbit over Bajor. Myself and much of the crew are within the capital city of Hathon. We are here for the Gratitude Festival, the happiest and most cheerful time of the year for the Bajoran people. With several Bajorans on board and some much-needed shore leave for the crew, I thought some sun, fun, and food were just what the Doctor ordered… although T declined said invitation."

Through the majestic sandstone streets of the Bajoran Capitol, the captain, in his Starfleet uniform and a Bajoran sash, meandered through the streets. The Festival marketplace was abuzz with activity. Perusing random sundries and accessories, enjoying the sights, smells, and sounds of the happiest and most joyful season. He tasted and sampled different Bajoran ingredients, purchasing some for later use in his Patisserie creations.

Other members of the crew dotted the crowd in the bustling city streets. The only open clearing of people was due to street performers and musicians playing songs and various acts for their audiences.

Anzyl was thoroughly enjoying every moment of the holiday, all except his ever-present lingering shadow behind him.

"Veirik… You don't need to follow me wherever I go, or so closely..." Anzyl complained, rolling his eyes. Veirik stood behind him, arms crossed, scowling at the festivities. "You're not even assigned to Security." Anzyl exasperated, "You're Tactical. Go… enjoy the festival and take a load off of whatever chipped your shoulder." He explained, smelling a Jamja fruit.

"If it's alright with you, I'm happy right where I am, Captain." Veirik retorted. Arms crossed, eyeing the patrons and festivities like someone was going to start something.

"Look, Veirik…" Anzyl looked at him seriously, "Do I really need to make it an order for you to go have… fun?"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't…" Then, a thought entered his mind, his tactical logic racing towards an unexpected conclusion. "Is this the Gratitude Festival, yes?"

"Yeah. Key word: Festival, with festive festivities." Anzyl urged him on.

"And Gratitude. Goers enact and praise the thing they are most grateful for and wish to express their gratitude." He elucidated.

"And?"

"I am expressing my gratitude towards you by keeping you safe," he simply stated.

Unable to counter his line of reasoning, Anzyl gave up. "Alright, fine," handing Veirik his bags of produce and ingredients, "If you're going to hover over me, at least be useful."

Veirik nodded and smiled, taking the captain's bag of ingredients, and the two continued shopping in the bustling markets.

---

However, unbeknownst to them, amongst the crowd of festival-goers, they were being scanned by an Orion and a Gorn. They belonged to a ship of high-end thieves, currently on Bajor to steal an Orb of the Prophets to sell on the black market to the highest bidder. The large crowds of the festival made it perfect to use the mask of the hustle and bustle to complete the heist. However, today their scanners picked up something that has been on their "Would Love to Have" loot list for years now, adding "Symbiote Poacher" to their ever-growing list of criminal charges.

"Yes, Captain, it's a bona fide Trill Symbiote right here," the Orion stated, whispering into his communicator, scanning the crowd, an infrared image of Anzyl sticking out amongst them.

The Gorn giggled with excitement, "And a Starfleet captain!" The raspy voice spoke over the intercom, "A captain!? Imagine the knowledge, security secrets, and top-level information that thing holds inside!" "Scans show it's over 400 years old!" The Orion added. The faceless voice continued, "This one would buy each of us our own starship and crew… I want it! And I want it now, I'll reach out to my contact with the Ferengi and tell him to let the bidding commence! And as for you two, go slug hunting, I want it within the hour." The Orion grinned madly, "Yes, Sir," ending communications.

---

"Jamja Stick? Alva Ice?" Anzyl asked Veirik, trying anything to make the brute have a semblance of fun. He was at a street cafe stand, with a handful of Bajoran desserts and beverages on display.

"I'm fine." Veirik's face was blank and emotionless.

Anzyl half-frowned, "It's not illegal to relax and enjoy yourself, Veirik, least of all during the Gratitude Festival."

Veirik looked on, resolute in his unwavering stance.

"Very well, have it your way. I'm thirsty, I'm gonna get some Iced Cela Tea, want one?"

"Ok, fine." Veirik finally gave in.

Anzyl talked to the barista and ordered his teas.

Just then, an Orion was thrown violently into the stand. An angry Gorn a few feet away snarled, "Call me a molting lizard one more time, and I'll really show you how cold-blooded I can be!"

In a flash, Veirik rushed to Anzyl's side and pulled him back to safety. Just as a Nausican ripped Veirik's attention, spinning him around. "I think he was the one who called you a Molting lizard, sir!" and punched Veirik in the face.

Veirik was swarmed by a sudden onslaught of fists. He let go of Anzyl to counter the Nausicans' blow, catching his punch like a baseball in his fist. Veirik's face was angry and annoyed; he twisted his arm and gut-kicked it away. This drew the attention of the crowd and the Nausicans' crew. The Orion and Gorn whipped out daggers and shivs. Other members—an Andorian, another Orion, and two more Nausicans—stepped forward in the crowd.

"Seven against one?" Veirik grinned for the first time since landing on the surface. "Make it challenging at least."

The Orion charged, and Veirik's strong arm punched him, knocking him back into the crowd. The Andorian slashed at him with a dagger, but Veirik grabbed his wrist and then his neck, lifting the blue alien with one hand high into the air. The crowd and crew gasped at his strength as Veirik slammed the Andorian into the ground, knocking him out cold. He huffed through his nostrils, glaring at the others, his Illyrian super strength and speed paying off.

The other crewmates took the hint that they were no match for Veirik and scampered away, leaving their Andorian and Orion crew on the ground.

Coming to his senses, Veirik felt something was wrong. He desperately looked around, searching, his blood and adrenaline pumping.

The captain was gone. Only a smashed Starfleet communicator lay on the ground.