s t a r t r e k d e e p s p a c e n i n e created by rick berman, michael piller Emissary Part II [s1ep2]
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s t a r t r e k d e e p s p a c e n i n e created by rick berman, michael piller Emissary Part II [s1ep2]
Everyone knows a smuggler or two. On Deep Space Nine Station, the halfway-point of the universe with conveniently fuzzy rules due to the Federation/ Bajor shared custody, you have to actively avoid anything remotely suspicious in order to not get mixed up in sub-legal operations.
Even then, every so often, you will be asked to store something in your quarters, or to enter something, any random sentence, onto a PADD. Or someone will rush up to you and start talking, and if you're charmed by their accent or compelled by the desperation in their eyes or possibly bribed by what's left in your hand after the handshake, you'll laugh and nod along and call the smuggler "cousin" or "old friend" and pretend you don't notice Station Security watching.
The newest trend among Deep Space Nine fashionistas is to wear the colors of the wormhole. Purple, pale blue, and white are the dominant colors of outfits now, with yellow or orange accents. It also seems that flowing, loose fabric is preferred.
Those who can afford whole outfits commission them from DS9 station′s local tailor or, if they’re not comfortable with shopping at Garak's Clothiers, order them to be made elsewhere and shipped to them. And the outfits, for the most part, are gorgeous. It’s hard to go wrong by imitating the wormhole. Those who can’t commission whole outfits, are required to wear uniforms, or simply don’t want to go to all that trouble just wear purple hair ties or blue sashes or other small accessories.
It makes me smile to see everyone showing their affection for our place in the universe.
DS9′s walls are more homey than starship walls; everywhere you look, there’s a unique fishtank or an indented pattern of geometric shapes or a light.
One of my favorite features of DS9′s walls is the relief slabs. The slabs are taller than a Klingon man and framed into the wall. They’re crafted by Bajoran artisans from warmly colored Bajoran clay, with indented lines and raised patterns reminiscent of duranja prayer lamps or sometimes more... interesting things, like displays on Resistence weapons scopes.
People disagree about what is the heart of DS9 Station.
Some say Ops, where the senior staff keep the station operational and safe, where the computer hums through the night.
Others say Quark’s—and not just the Ferengis who work there. The bustling atmosphere there is a microcosm of the station’s social aspect, and the excellent meals make the station feel more like home.
Some say the shrine—the Bajoran temple on the Promenade—is the heart of DS9. People take their deepest hopes and fears there, seek wisdom, pray for themselves and their family and DS9 itself. And what is more exemplary of DS9 Station, stopping-house of liminality and travel, than the Orb of Prophecy and Change?
DS9 is rarely referred to with personal pronouns. Starships and runabouts are “she”. Cities are “he” or “she”. Even planets are called by personal pronouns. But DS9 is nearly always an it.
However, people do ascribe personal traits to it. Just like people call Bajor “she”, “compassionate” and “gentle”, “the mother planet”, Cardassia “harsh” or “cruel”, and Ferenginar “the old man”, DS9 is called “steady”, “fickle”, “monster”, or “Bajor’s pet station”.
People speak about DS9 like it’s an animal.
The names contradict each other. They’re based on mood. An annoyed engineer will call DS9 “fickle”. Depending on the context, “pet station” is a gentle joke—or a pointed one.
DS9 Station's constant noise is different from that of planets.
No birds, wind, or water murmur on DS9 Station, but the real reason DS9′s sound profile is so different is the metallic composition of the station. Voices, footsteps, the computer’s beeping and humming—the metal structure carries them all, making the whole station a gently vibrating cradle like the ones the Vulcans build. When a person goes to bed, the walls, the floor, the very bedposts hum the distant voices of the waking.
When visitors leave DS9′s Habitat Ring, low-level workers inspect their rooms to make sure they’re ready for the next person. DS9 was designed to be hardy, practical, what Humans call “spartan”, but some people still manage to steal things. Like the panes from the wall lights. I want to know why you would steal those, let alone how.