"The First Minister will be here shortly. Can I offer you some refreshments?" the assistant of the First Minister asked politely as you were led into his office. It gave a wonderful view over the capital, which still partly lay in ruins. But the mountains in the distance were nice enough to look at that you almost could overlook the desolate state the Cardassians had left behind. Almost, but not entirely. Yet, it gave you hope seeing all the workers swarming through the ruins, some removing them with nothing more than their bare hands as Bajor lacked more advanced tools – something your mind only started to partly understand. Your life in Starfleet and the Federation had made you grow accustomed to the heavy use of advanced tools when it came to construction work. Seeing Bajoran workers now do it with their hands was humbling and yet also inspiring.
"No, thank you," you declined with a smile, and the assistant nodded once and then left the office, leaving you alone in Kalem Apren's office for now. It was sparsely arranged, you noted, but you weren't sure if that was the case because the man wanted it that way or because he hadn't had the time yet to put more things in. The desk at least was familiar to you; you had seen it in many transmissions when the First Minister had been in exile. It had become as much an icon as the man himself, who had united the diaspora and slowly but steadily grown to become the figurehead of the whole resistance movement. Wherever Kalem Apren had been, his desk had traveled with him. Even when he had transmitted from some caves, he had sat behind this very desk and calmly spoken of the coming victory – a victory that had now become true.
Slowly, you approached the desk and hesitantly touched it.
"It belongs in a museum," you mumbled to yourself as you ran your fingers along its edge. Almost you could feel the years of struggle this desk had seen. It was as if you could feel the gravity of the decisions that had been made on it. As silly as it sounded, this was an artifact of Bajoran history, and for your mind, it was mind-boggling that it was still used. As if someone would get the Enterprise of Admiral Archer out of the museum to use it as a normal ship of the fleet – a sacrilege.
"He is known to bite with splinters," said a voice, and you whirled around. Without making a sound, Kalem Apren, First Minister of Bajor, had slipped into his own office. He was slightly smiling, even if it didn't fully reach his eyes. They looked old and simply tired. He moved through the office, getting behind his desk and putting down his padd. Then, he sat down and motioned for you to do the same. "But that is a silly superstition. In the end of the day, it's an old desk that has been fixed too often. The material gets a bit tired, and how often it has been moved didn't help at all."
For a moment, you weren't sure if he was still talking about the desk or himself. Lovingly, Minister Kalem ran his fingers over the desk for a moment. Then, as if waking up from a dream, his fingers stopped, and his smile widened as he looked into your eyes.
"But you aren't here to listen to my old-people musings. It's good to see you, Lieutenant Orta, or Minister Orta, I should rather say. I was glad when you accepted the position as Minister when I offered it to you. In these dark days, with the morning light just slipping in, Bajor needs all the help it can get."
"It was an honor when I received the offer, and I hardly could say no," you said, returning his smile. "But I have a question."
"Why you?"
"Why me, yes," you agreed to the offered question from the man behind the desk. You watched him lean back. For a moment, he simply watched you.
"A number of reasons, to be honest," he said after a moment of quiet musing. "For one, you're a former Starfleet officer. It has to have come into your mind that I hope this will make it easier to interact with the Federation. Other reasons are more selfish. With the current situation, I had to make a choice: either give the position to one of the old regime or a former resistance member. The old guard isn't used to diplomacy; any outside power would exploit them easily. On the other hand, any former resistance member would be too distrustful and hostile to outsiders. Then your file came to my desk, and I saw an opportunity."
He gave you a small nod. "You're an outsider to Bajoran politics; you don't carry any guilt from the occupation days with you. No faction can really put up any meaningful protest against your appointment, which also means an important ministry stays free of the factionalism I expect will partly cripple our work. Additionally, you aren't afraid of the outside world and have experienced it enough to not be naive about it. You will look at things more realistically than any Bajoran who never left Bajor ever could."
Falling silent for a moment, he gave you a sharp look. "I hope I didn't shatter any illusions you might have held about me. I know that the propaganda liked to show me as some kind of benevolent grandfather of all Bajorans. But this is politics, and you don't manage to hold the lid on the boiling pot that is Bajor without some pressure."
"Some of it has been shattered," you admitted. After all, you grew up with your parents listening to his transmissions. He had been right, to some extent. Kalem Apren had become the shared grandfather of all Bajorans. To hear him so openly and directly speaking about political maneuvering had been disturbing to a part of you. On the other hand, you had drawn some conclusions of your own; after all, you weren't completely blind to Bajoran political realities. "But nothing I can't recover from. I didn't expect you to be this open about it."
"Ah, yes, well, I found that all of this maneuvering has become tiring," he said. "It seldom leads to the outcome you want, and I try to avoid it if possible. I didn't see the need to be a politician around you. Most military people don't like it."
"Starfleet isn't a military," you replied almost automatically before you could hold it back. Surprised, you blinked, and Kalem Apren chuckled.
"I appreciate the thought, Minister Orta," he said, leaning forward. He grasped one of the padds he had put on the desk earlier and activated it. "Now, if all of your questions have been answered, let us talk about Bajor and our position in the wider galaxy. Minister Orta, what is in your eyes the greatest problem we face?"
[ ] The Rebuilding
"Our economy, First Minister. The Cardassian retreat has destroyed more than the whole occupation, at least when it comes to our economy. Most production facilities have been either stolen by them or destroyed. What we still have is insufficient to reliably support our recovery in a timely manner. As I see it, we are in danger of facing a growing recession and open revolt by the public as soon as they realize how bad things are."
[ ] Allies
"Our lack of allies, small or large, is irrelevant. You remarked that we stand alone, and that is true. The Federation has made remarks that they wish to help rebuild our homeworld, but so far, that's all they've done. I'm sure they'll send emergency supplies if we ask, but a true alliance with them would be even more beneficial. It would also provide us with a safeguard against a potential return of Cardassian aggression."
[ ] The Cardassians
"Without a doubt, the Cardassians. They may have left Bajor, claiming it wasn't worth the trouble. However, I took a course in Cardassian psychology at the academy. Many among them will see our freedom as an insult. It's only a matter of time and enough bruised Gul egos until one of them does something foolish. Then, their Central Command won't have a choice but to support their action of retaking parts or all of Bajoran space. We need to prepare."
