"The Prophets Guide the Faithful" MINI-EPISODE-PT4 of 4

Posted on Thu Oct 29th, 2026 @ 6:03am by Commander Nith & Ensign Keith Vail
Edited on on Thu Oct 29th, 2026 @ 6:05am

2,642 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Frozen Acquisition
Location: Deep Space Nine
Timeline: current

Keith stood slowly, his hands raised in a gesture of placation. "Sovak, listen to me. You do not have to do this. Whatever debt Tolen owed you, whatever mistakes you made, we can fix this. I can help you."

"You cannot help me. No one can." Sovak moved with sudden, terrifying speed, the metal rod whistling through the air toward Keith's head.

Keith ducked, the rod passing close enough to ruffle his blond hair, and rolled backward over the bar, landing in a crouch on the other side. His heart was hammering against his ribs, but his mind was clear, racing through options with the same analytical precision he applied to computer systems.

"Sovak, stop!" he shouted, grabbing a bottle from the shelf and hurling it at the Vulcan's head. Sovak batted it aside with contemptuous ease and vaulted over the bar, landing with a heavy thud that shook the floor.

The few remaining patrons in Quark's had noticed the commotion now. A Ferengi at the dabo table shrieked and scrambled for the exit. A Bolian merchant ducked behind an overturned table. Someone shouted for security, but Keith knew that help was minutes away, and minutes were something he did not have.

Sovak swung again, and Keith barely dodged, the rod cracking against the bar with enough force to splinter the polished wood. He grabbed a tray and held it up as a makeshift shield, the metal denting under Sovak's next blow. The impact sent vibrations up Keith's arms, and he stumbled backward, his heel catching on a fallen stool.

"You fight poorly for a Starfleet officer," Sovak observed, his voice cold and clinical. "Perhaps your Academy training was as accelerated as your graduation."

"I prefer to talk my way out of situations," Keith gasped, sidestepping another swing and grabbing a pitcher of water from the counter. He threw it in Sovak's face, but the Vulcan did not even blink, the liquid ran down his impassive features like rain off stone.

"Talking is for diplomats. This is combat." Sovak lunged, the rod aimed at Keith's ribs.

Keith blocked with the tray, the impact driving him back against the wall. Pain flared in his side, sharp and insistent, but he pushed it down, focusing on survival. He was not a fighter, not really.

His strengths lay in systems and codes, in finding patterns where others saw chaos. But he was also twenty years old, fit and strong, and he had grown up with brothers who had taught him that sometimes the only way out was through.

He dropped the ruined tray and grabbed a bar stool, swinging it with both hands. Sovak caught it one-handed, his Vulcan strength shocking even through the wood, and yanked it from Keith's grip. But the move had put the Vulcan off-balance for just a fraction of a second, and Keith exploited the opening, driving his knee into Sovak's stomach with all the force he could muster.

Sovak grunted, the first sound of pain Keith had heard from him, and stumbled back a step. Keith pressed the advantage, throwing a punch that connected with Sovak's jaw. It felt like hitting a bulkhead, and Keith's knuckles screamed in protest, but the Vulcan actually rocked backward, surprise flickering in his dark eyes.

"You are stronger than you appear," Sovak acknowledged.

"I am full of surprises." Keith followed with a left hook, but Sovak caught his wrist and twisted, spinning Keith around and slamming him face-first into the bar. Stars exploded in Keith's vision, and he tasted blood from a split lip. Sovak's arm locked around his throat, the metal rod pressed against his windpipe.

"It is over, Ensign. You fought well, but you are outmatched. Vulcan strength is approximately seven times that of a human. You cannot win."

Keith's vision was tunneling, black edges creeping in at the sides. He clawed at Sovak's arm, but the grip was iron, unyielding.

Desperate, he reached out with his free hand, fingers scrabbling across the bar surface until they closed around something cold and heavy. A bottle. Not just any bottle. A bottle of Vulcan brandy, the thick glass heavy enough to serve as a club.

He swung it backward over his head, felt the satisfying crunch of impact, and suddenly the pressure on his throat vanished. Keith gasped, sucking in great lungfuls of air, and spun around to see Sovak staggering backward, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead. The Vulcan's eyes were unfocused, his control shattered by the blow.

"That... was for lying to me," Keith wheezed, raising the bottle again. "And this... is for T'Lira."

He swung again, and this time Sovak's legs buckled, the Vulcan collapsing to his knees with a heavy thud. The metal rod clattered from his hand and rolled across the floor. Keith kicked it away, then stood over the fallen bartender, his chest heaving, his face bruised and bloody, but his eyes blazing with a fierce, righteous light.

"Sovak, son of... whoever you are," Keith said, his voice rough but steady, "you are under arrest for theft, assault on a Starfleet officer, and being a generally terrible brother. You have the right to remain silent, and I really hope you exercise that right, because I have had enough of your voice for one lifetime."

Sovak looked up at him, blood dripping from his forehead, and for a moment, something like respect flickered in his dark eyes. Then he slumped forward, unconscious, and Keith let out a breath he did not know he had been holding.

The doors to Quark's burst open, and Corporal Jora rushed in, phaser drawn, followed by two Bajoran security officers and a human ensign Keith did not recognize.

"Ensign Vail!" Jora shouted, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. The overturned tables, the shattered bottles, the unconscious Vulcan on the floor, and Keith standing over him with a bottle of brandy in one hand and blood on his face. "What the hell happened?"

"Justice," Keith said, and then he swayed, catching himself on the bar. "Justice happened. And I think I need a medic."

Jora holstered her phaser and rushed to his side, her hands steadying him. "You are insane. You know that, right?"

"I prefer 'optimistic.' It sounds better on the report."

"Nobody is that optimistic." She helped him to a stool, her expression a mixture of exasperation and grudging admiration.

"You took down a Vulcan in hand-to-hand combat. With a bottle of brandy. That is going in the station log, Vail. That is going in the station log forever."

"Make sure you spell my name right."

The Bajoran officers were securing Sovak now, slapping restraints on his wrists and checking his vitals. The human ensign was taking photographs of the scene, his expression one of barely concealed awe.

"Hey, Vail," one of the Bajoran officers called out, a tall woman with a ridge of scars across her nose. "I heard you were sweet on the Vulcan's sister. The pretty one with the fancy hair."

Keith winced, both from his injuries and from the direction the conversation was heading. "It is not... we were just..."

"Were just what?" the human ensign asked, grinning. "Planning a romantic getaway to Vulcan? Introducing her to your parents? Naming your firstborn something logical?"

"She was very nice," Keith said weakly. "We had a connection."

"Had," Corporal Jora repeated, her eyes suddenly sharp. "Vail, look out."

Keith turned, and his heart sank.

T'Lira stood in the doorway of Quark's, her copper tunic immaculate, her dark eyes fixed on the scene before her with an expression of dawning horror. She looked at Sovak, unconscious and bleeding on the floor. She looked at the security officers restraining him. And then she looked at Keith, and something in her gaze shattered.

"Keith?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "What have you done?"

"T'Lira, I can explain..."

"That is my brother." She pointed at Sovak with a trembling finger. "That is my brother. You arrested my brother."

"I had to. He attacked me. He confessed to stealing the earring. He used you, T'Lira. He lied to you about Korem to cover his own crimes."

"You are lying. Vulcan’s do not, lie!" T'Lira's voice rose, the first crack in her Vulcan composure Keith had ever heard. "Sovak would never... he is not a thief. He is not a criminal. You are mistaken. You must be mistaken."

"I am not mistaken. I wish I were, but I am not." Keith stood, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and took a step toward her. "T'Lira, I am sorry. I am so sorry. I know this is not what you wanted to hear. I know you trusted him. But he betrayed that trust. He betrayed both of us."

She stared at him, her face a mask of grief and rage and something worse, something that looked like betrayal. "You promised me justice," she said quietly. "You promised me safety. You promised me... you promised me dinner."

"I know. And I meant every promise. But I cannot promise you something that is not true. Sovak is guilty. And I had to stop him."

T'Lira's jaw tightened, and Keith saw her struggle for control, the Vulcan discipline reasserting itself over the storm of emotion beneath. When she spoke again, her voice was flat, cold, empty. "Then you have stopped him. And you have also stopped any possibility of a relationship between us. I will not go on that date with you, Ensign Vail. I will not speak to you again. You have destroyed my family, and you have destroyed any regard I might have held for you."

She turned and walked toward the exit, her steps quick and precise, and Keith made no move to stop her. He simply watched her go, the warmth in his chest turning to ash.

"Well," the Bajoran officer said into the silence, "that could have gone better."

"Shut up, Koral," Jora snapped.

"What? I am just saying. Our boy here finally finds a Vulcan willing to look at him twice, and he arrests her brother in front of her. That is rough. That is really rough."

"She will come around," the human ensign offered, though he did not sound convinced.

"Once she processes it. Vulcans are logical. They will see reason."

"Will they?" Keith asked quietly. He touched his split lip, wincing at the sting. "I am not sure I would, in her place."

"Hey, Vail," Koral said, clapping him on the shoulder with enough force to make him wince.

"Cheer up. There are plenty of other Vulcans in the galaxy. Well, not plenty. They are actually pretty rare. And most of them are not interested in humans. But still. You will find someone. Probably. Maybe. Eventually."

"Your encouragement is overwhelming."

"I am an security officer, not a counselor." Koral grinned, her teeth white against her dark skin. "Now come on. We need to get Sovak to the brig, and you need to get to the infirmary. And then I believe you owe us all a round of drinks for the best entertainment this station has seen in months."

"I thought you said Quark's was a legacy establishment."

"It is. But tonight, you made it legendary." Koral laughed, a rich, booming sound that filled the ruined bar. "The human ensign who fought a Vulcan bartender with a bottle of booze and lost his girlfriend in the same night. They will be singing songs about this in the lower decks for years."

"She was not my girlfriend," Keith muttered, but he was smiling despite himself, a small, sad thing that did not reach his eyes. "We had one conversation. And one almost-date. That does not constitute a relationship."

"Details," Koral said, waving her hand dismissively. "The point is, you had a shot at a Vulcan dream girl, and you blew it for the sake of justice. That is either incredibly noble or incredibly stupid. I have not decided."

"Probably both," Jora offered, helping Keith to his feet. "Come on, hero. Let us get you patched up. And then you can write your report."

"I will try to frame it positively."

"Frame it however you want. Just make sure the commander gets it by morning."

They escorted Sovak out of Quark's, the Vulcan still groggy but conscious now, his face a mask of sullen resignation. Keith walked behind him, his ribs aching, his lip throbbing, his heart heavier than he could remember it ever being. The Bajoran and Starfleet officers flanked him, trading jokes and commentary that Keith barely heard.

"Hey, Vail," the human ensign called back. "Next time you fall for a Vulcan, maybe check her family tree first. Just a suggestion."

"Noted."

"And maybe avoid arresting anyone she is related to on the first date.

"Also noted."

"And maybe..."

"Ensign Vail," a voice crackled over the combadge, cutting through the banter with sharp clarity. "… please report to Docking Bay Seven immediately. Repeat, Ensign Vail to Docking Bay Seven. You have a priority message from Starfleet Command."

Keith stopped a moment, his hand going to his combadge. "Vail here. Go ahead."

"Ensign, this is Commander Donlow. I have just received orders from Starfleet Command. Your transfer orders came in with impeccable timing. You are to report aboard the USS Horizon immediately. Pack your bags, say your goodbyes, and get moving. That is an order."

Keith stood frozen for a moment, the words echoing in his mind. The USS Horizon. His permanent posting. The ship he had been waiting for since graduation.

"Understood, Commander. I am on my way."

He closed the channel and looked at the security officers surrounding him, at Sovak in his restraints, at the corridor that led back to Quark's and the memory of a copper tunic and a voice that had almost said yes.

"Well," he said softly, "I guess this is goodbye."

"Goodbye, Vail," Jora said, and there was genuine warmth in her voice. "Try not to get killed on your new ship. And try not to fall in love with any more Vulcans until you have at least unpacked your bags."

"I will do my best."

He turned and walked toward the turbolift, his steps slow but steady, his blond hair catching the station lights as he moved. Behind him, the security officers watched him go, their voices trailing after him with a mixture of teasing and respect.

"Good luck, Vail!"

"Say hello to the Horizon for us!"

"And remember, no more Vulcan bartenders!"

Keith smiled, though it hurt his split lip. He stepped into the turbolift and turned, facing the corridor one last time.

"Actually," he said, as the doors began to close, "I think one Vulcan was probably enough for now. But thank you all the same. It has been... educational."

Keith Vail touched his bruised ribs, winced, and laughed despite the pain. It was not the ending he had wanted. It was not the ending he had imagined, sitting at that bar with a beautiful woman and a glass of acceptable synthale. But it was the ending he had earned, through honesty and integrity and the stubborn refusal to look away from the truth, even when the truth cost him everything he had hoped for.

The turbolift deposited him at Docking Bay Seven, and he stepped out into the bright lights of the embarkation area, his eyes finding the sleek lines of the USS Horizon through the viewport. A Century-class starship, beautiful and new, waiting to carry him to whatever came next.

"Optimism," he murmured to himself, shouldering his bag and walking toward the airlock. "It is just logic wearing a better attitude."

He stepped through the airlock and into his future, leaving Deep Space Nine behind with all its lessons, its losses, and its one almost-date that would haunt his dreams for light-years to come.

 

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