A Brothers Divide

Posted on Sun Jul 6th, 2025 @ 9:36pm by Lieutenant Jasad Yuvek

1,533 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Preserving The Past
Location: Promenade Deck, Star Base 234

The observation lounge on Star Base 234's promenade deck offered a spectacular view of the Mutara Nebula, its swirling colors providing a deceptively peaceful backdrop to the heightened tension gripping the Alpha Quadrant. The USS Tokyo sat docked at the station's lower pylons, her crew enjoying what might be their last shore leave for some time. The arrival of the Iconians had changed everything.

Jasad found his brother waiting at convenient table, the one tucked away from the main thoroughfare where two Cardassians could speak without drawing unwanted attention. Bretav wore civilian clothes—a rare sight—but his military bearing remained unmistakable. The weight of command had settled on his shoulders since their last meeting.

"You look tired," Jasad observed, settling into the chair across from his brother.

"We all do." Bretav's voice carried the strain of days spent on high alert. "The Defense Force has been running continuous patrols along our borders since the Iconians were detected. Every sensor ghost, every spatial anomaly could be the beginning of the end."

Jasad nodded grimly. "Starfleet's no different. We've been conducting joint exercises with the Romulans—something I never thought I'd see. The threat assessment briefings are... sobering."

"Which brings me to why I asked you here." Bretav leaned forward, his gray eyes intense. "The Iconians aren't just another enemy, Jasad. They're the demons from our oldest nightmares made real. When they come—and they will come—every world will stand or fall based on the strength of its defenders."

"The Federation is coordinating the largest military alliance in galactic history," Jasad replied. "Every member world is contributing ships, personnel, resources. We're stronger together than—"

"Together?" Bretav's voice rose slightly, then dropped as he glanced around the lounge. "Look, when the Iconians attack, do you think they'll care about Federation ideals? Do you think your human Captain will hesitate to sacrifice Cardassian colonies to save Earth?"

The accusation hung in the air between them like a challenge. Jasad set down his drink, measuring his response. "Captain Aisaka has proven herself to be—"

"I'm not talking about Aisaka specifically." Bretav's interruption was sharp. "I'm talking about the reality of war. When resources become scarce, when choices must be made about which worlds to defend and which to abandon, the Federation will protect its founding members first. Earth, Vulcan, Andor, Tellar—they'll survive. But Cardassia? We're still rebuilding from the last war. We're expendable."

"You're wrong." Jasad's voice carried quiet conviction. "I've seen how Starfleet operates. I've served alongside officers who've died protecting worlds they'd never seen, defending people they'd never met. The Federation's strength comes from its diversity, not from playing favorites."

"Am I? How many

Bretav pulled out a PADD and slid it across the table. "Intelligence reports from the Defense Force. The Iconians have been conducting reconnaissance of the major powers' military capabilities. Want to guess which worlds they've shown the most interest in?"

Jasad glanced at the data, his expression growing troubled. "Cardassia Prime, Risa, Betazed, Trill..."

"Worlds with strategic value but limited defenses," Bretav finished. "Worlds that could be conquered quickly to establish forward bases. When the invasion begins, Cardassia will be one of the first targets, not one of the last stands."

"All the more reason for the allied fleet to—"

"The allied fleet will be protecting the core worlds while our people burn." Bretav's hand clenched on the table.

Jasad felt the familiar weight of old guilt, the survivor's burden they both carried. "That was different. The Dominion controlled our government. The people had no choice."

"Choice?" Bretav's laugh was bitter. "You think they see it that way? I've read the reports, Jasad. I've seen the classified communications between fleet commanders. Half the Federation's senior officers are Dominion War veterans who still remember watching their friends die because of Cardassian weapons, Cardassian tactics, Cardassian lives."

"That wasn't us—"

"It doesn't matter!" Bretav's voice rose, then dropped to a harsh whisper. "Do you know what one your honorable Admiral Sindall once said when there was discussion about diverting forces to defend Cardassia borders from pirates? 'Cardassia made their bed when they invited the Dominion into the Alpha Quadrant. Now they can sleep in it.' Direct quote from a classified briefing my sources obtained."

Jasad's face went pale. "Sindall lost his son at Chin'toka. The grief—"

"Makes him typical, not exceptional." Bretav stood, pacing to the observation window. "Admiral Akaar still refers to us as 'former enemies' in official documents. And those are the ones willing to work with us publicly."

"Twenty years after the war ended, we're still being punished for the choices of Gul Dukat and his regime. How many Federation worlds do you think will volunteer to risk their fleets defending a people they still blame for starting the bloodiest war in galactic history?"

Jasad moved to stand beside his brother, his voice quiet but firm. "I serve with those veterans every day, Bretav. Yes, some harbor resentment. But I've also seen officers who've moved beyond that pain. But I've also seen officers who've moved beyond that pain. Commander T'Vek on the Nexus lost her entire family when the Dominion attacked Vulcan colonies. She still recommended me for to become a Conn Officer."

"One Vulcan's logic doesn't outweigh the Federation's collective memory." Bretav said, letting the silence hang between them for several moments.

Bretav stood, pacing to the observation window. "The Detapa Council has formally requested that all Cardassian citizens serving in foreign militaries return home to help defend our world. They need experienced officers, Jasad. They need people who understand modern tactical systems, who've seen how other militaries operate."

"You're asking me to abandon my post. To break my oath to Starfleet."

"I'm asking you to remember where you came from." Bretav turned back to face him. "We crawled out from under the bodies of our neighbors. We survived foster care, exile, and the contempt of those who saw us as the children of murderers. We made something of ourselves despite everything the galaxy threw at us. Don't you think we owe something to the people who share our blood?"

Jasad rose as well, moving to stand beside his brother at the window. The nebula's colors seemed less beautiful now, more like the afterglow of distant fires. "Every day I serve on the Tokyo, I'm proving that Cardassians can be trusted. That we can be valued allies, not just convenient pawns. If I abandon that now..."

"Then you'll be alive to prove it again later." Bretav's voice softened. "The Iconians aren't interested in your Federation principles, brother. They want to reshape the galaxy according to their vision, and they've had two hundred thousand years to plan for this moment. When they come, loyalty to abstract ideals won't matter. Only loyalty to your people will."

The brothers stood in silence, watching the stars beyond the nebula. In the distance, they could see other ships docked at the station—Klingon Birds of Prey, Romulan Warbirds, and vessels from a dozen other worlds, all united by the common threat lurking in the shadows of space.

"The Tokyo ships out in eighteen hours," Jasad said finally.

"The transport to Cardassia Prime leaves in twelve," Bretav replied. "I've already arranged for temporary quarters for you on the Damar. You could be home by next week."

Jasad turned to face his brother, seeing in his eyes the same fear they'd both carried since childhood—the fear of being alone, of losing everything again. "And if I choose to stay with Starfleet?"

"Then I'll pray to whatever gods still listen that when the Iconians come, they remember that some Cardassians chose duty over survival." Bretav clasped his brother's shoulder. "But I'll also pray that you survive long enough to see that some choices can't be undone."

"The same prayer I'll offer for you," Jasad replied, covering his brother's hand with his own. "But understand this—if I stay, it's not because I've forgotten what it means to be Cardassian. It's because I believe the only way our people truly survive is by proving we belong among the stars, not hiding behind the walls of our wounded pride."

"And if I'm right? If when the Iconians come, the Federation admirals decide that saving Earth or Vulcan is worth sacrificing Cardassia Prime?" Bretav's voice carried the weight of their shared nightmares. "If you find yourself ordered to stand by while our world burns because some admiral still remembers the sight of Cardassian ships firing on Federation colonies?"

Jasad was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the nebula. "Then I'll face that choice when it comes. But I won't abandon my post based on fear of what might happen. We survived by hiding once before, brother. I won't do it again."

As the nebula continued its ancient dance beyond the observation deck, two brothers stood at the crossroads of history, each carrying the weight of their shared past and the uncertain promise of their divergent futures. The Iconians were coming, and soon every choice would be tested in the crucible of war.

Posting by:

Lieutenant
Jasad Yuvek
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Tokyo

Dalin
Bretav Yuvek
CDF Damar

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