The Open Door, Part 2

Posted on Tue Jun 10th, 2025 @ 12:46am by Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil

1,258 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Character Backstories
Location: Suite 18, Level 32, Starbase 718
Timeline: 3 Weeks Ago

The glow of the holoscreen bathed Jean-Baptiste's quarters in a shimmering gold, softening the angles of a mostly spare room. He sat forward in his chair, forearms resting against his knees, one hand gripping the other wrist to still the restless twitch of his fingers. On the screen, Angeline's face looked a little tired, but still vibrant--her eyes bright despite the faint shadows beneath them.

"Ou pale pi dous pase siwo myèl," she teased, leaning toward the camera. ("You speak sweeter than honey.") "It's like talking to the brother I knew before you disappeared into that hole at Intelligence."

"Mwen toujou la, Ti Zouzou," JB replied with a half-smile. ("I've always been here, Little Bird.") "You're just the one with babies and a thesis now."

She snorted. "Babies and a thesis. One feeds on me, the other devours my very soul. I don't sleep, JB. I survive."

Behind her, twin wails echoed from an unseen room. The sound of new life, unpredictable and insistent. JB blinked slowly, expression softening. "They're awake."

"Of course they are." Angeline rolled her eyes. "They know when I'm not completely miserable."

"You're doing good, Angeline. Truly. I'm sorry I missed the... baptism, right?" he asked, a note of guilt threading through.

"Baptême, oui," she confirmed, switching to French as her tone becomer gentler. "But I understand. I really do. Still... I'm glad you're out. I didn't think they'd let you go."

"They tried," JB said, a hint of bitterness in his tone. He changed the subject. "I'm shipping-out the day after tomorrow for Barisa Prime. The Astrea's meeting me there in a couple of weeks."

Her brows lifted. "A starship! My brother on a starship." She laughed softly. "You remember when Maman had to drag you inside very night? You swore the trees could hear your secrets."

"They could," he said. "I'm already climbing the walls and this is one of the largest starbases ever constructed."

"Then you'd better fill your quarters with plans. Big ones. I'm talking ferndales and orchids. You know, something to whisper to."

"You think the Astrea has an arboretum?" he wondered aloud.

"If not, you make one," she said firmly. The twins cried louder now. "Ah. Les monstres need their maman."

He nodded. "Kiss them for me. I'll call soon."

"You promise?"

"I swear, Ange."

"Then go easy on yourself, JB. You're not a ghost anymore."

The transmission cut with a series of small beeps. JB sat there for a long moment, watching the now-dark screen as if something of his sister lingered just beyond the Starbase 718 logo.

* * *

Location: The Hub, Starbase 718


The Hub pulsed with the strange alchemy of commerce and transit. It wasn't quite a promenade, not exactly a market either--too clean, too engineered. But it carried the same energy: starships docked via interior tubes, passengers and crews rotating in and out like blood through an artery. JB moved through it with quiet purpose, his jacket slung over a shoulder, collar unfastened.

JB simply couldn't bear another moment in his assigned quarters. He needed fresh air--and in the absence of that, he'd settle for a wide open space. The Hub seemed like the logical place to stretch his legs but there was a bit of edge tonight.

Two Klingon warships were docked, and their presence was loud: warriors in thick-sleeved armour. They drank in the taverns, bellowed in the storefronts, marched down corridors in groups of threes and fours. Tension hummed beneath their revelry, the volatile edge that always seemed to accompany Klingons outside their own territory.

He passed a café and paused at a shop window when a shout cut through the air.

Across the thoroughfare, a Yridian merchant dangled by his tunic from a massive Klingon's hand, squirming like a hooked fish. "Please! I gave you exact change!"

The Klingon snarled. "You cheat me, worm! You insult the House of Akor'ma!"

The crowd parted, instinctively keeping their distance. The Klingon turned, still gripping the Yridian, and stepped toward a balcony edge that overlooked four levels below.

JB crossed the space slowly.

"reH quv HutlhmeH ghoplIj QoraQ tuq je," JB barked sharply in Klingon, voice like a cracked whip. ("Your mother was a slug and your house is run by Ferengi women.) He added, voice louder now, "maHvaD DajatlhmeH bIghoS 'e' DaHar'a'? vaj DaH jItlhap."

The warrior froze mid-stride. He dropped the Yridian to the floor with a grunt and pivoted to face JB, nostrils flaring.

"What did you say to me?"

JB didn't flinch. "You heard me."

The Klingon stepped close, squaring his shoulders, towering over JB. The crowd sucked in a collective breath. He drew a dagger from his belt and held it up. "Then fight. Show me your honour."

"I have none," JB said coolly, "but I'll still stop you."

The blade rose high in the air--

And then the sharp whine of a phaser. The Klingon dropped to the deck like a stone.

Starfleet security surged in behind him. A Lieutenant Commander holstered his weapon and moved toward JB with purpose. "What the hell were you thinking, Lieutenant?"

JB turned slightly, not fully acknowledging the officer. "He was going to kill that merchant. I have him a target with bigger teeth."

"You armed with those teeth?"

Jean-Baptiste finally looked the man in eye. "No, sir."

"Then you're lucky we got here in time. That was a good way to get yourself stabbed."

JB glanced at the Yridian, who was now sobbing quietly as medics checked his vitals.

"It worked, did it not?"

The Lieutenant Commander shook his head. "You can't predict outcomes like that."

"I used to be able to."

The man snorted. "Welcome to our world, then," he said, and walked away.

JB lingered for a moment, staring down over the railing where the Klingon had nearly thrown the merchant. That balcony was a metaphor. His career had always felt like it teetered on one, and he'd just stepped away from the edge.


* * *

Location: Federation Transport, En route to Barisa Prime
Timeline: 2 weeks ago


Day six aboard the Magellan. JB sat in the narrow dining alcove, sipping a mug of strong tea, staring at the curved stars through a narrow viewport. They'd left Denobula the day before, a quick resupply stop. Now it was warp two toward Barisa Prime, crawling through Federation space with the urgency of moss growing sideways.

His compartment was smaller than the closet he had on Starbase 718. Bare walls, one storage trunk, a narrow bunk. He'd tried to meditate that morning, but could not concentrate with the constant how the bulkhead shuddered every few seconds.

Among his other complaints--the ceiling felt too close and there was an odour emanating from somewhere just outside his compartment.

Jean-Baptiste missed the sun. The wind. The hint of flowers on that same wind.

Someone passed him in the corridor, a Bolian family playing some kind of travel game. Laughter trailed them. It didn't touch him.

He pulled out a small notebook from his satchel--actual paper--and wrote:

The stars are still there. But I feel like I'm inside a box drifting past them.

Three more days.

Then, Barisa Prime.

And after that... the Astrea. A ship. A crew. A purpose that wasn't cloaked in secrets or buried in intelligence briefings.

Reaching for his mug of tea, he watched the stars blur, and thought: maybe it was time to live again.

* * *

Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil

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