The chirping sound from the main control hub of the border monitoring station brought Gabrielle Nwadike from her office, heart in her throat. It was the normal alert sound, simply notifying this orbital platform hanging over the Izar colony that a ship had dropped out of warp at the system’s periphery. In mere seconds, the automated system would check the ship’s registry and ID and catalogue it for traffic records. This happened daily, hourly – several times an hour.

And for the past month, those seconds had felt like lifetimes as Gabrielle stood in the door and waited for the system to confirm the new arrival wasn’t a Dominion ship.

‘We got a Starfleet signature,’ rumbled Stroven, her Tellarite colleague. Though he sounded gruff and matter-of-fact, she knew the glance in her direction was about more than reassuring her. Saying it out loud made it real. Saying it out loud reassured him. ‘USS Caliburn, NCC-82902, Sagan-class.’

‘Sagan-class? That’s a big one.’ Her heart rate was just about slowing to normal levels as she advanced. ‘There’s no way they’re here to repair the deep space sensor array.’

As if prompted, the comms system chirruped, the display flashing up to announce the hail from the Caliburn. Stroven and Gabrielle both stood motionless for a beat til they realised they were waiting for someone to pick up. Eyes fell on the empty chair where once young Heiliger had sat.

But the Dominion had killed Heiliger, dragged him out of his apartment early in the morning for being part of the resistance, and shot him in the street. Gabrielle had told him to keep his head down, be careful.

I have to try, Heiliger had said. I’m a comms specialist, I can get word out, tell Starfleet the lay of the land down here. I get it, Boss, you’ve got a family. But I gotta try.

He’d tried. He’d died. And even as their little station’s responsibility had grown, they still hadn’t replaced young Heiliger.

Gabrielle advanced to hit a button and put the call through. ‘USS Caliburn, this is Monitoring Station Alpha. Welcome to Izar.’

The expansion of their monitoring station had been cobbled together from the wreckage of the other orbital platforms. These days, they spent days up here at a time because the orbital lift had been destroyed. That one was Starfleet’s doing, and it meant that instead of putting in a day’s work and going home, Gabrielle needed to rely on a shuttle heading for the surface or had to sleep in a cot in the office. They needed maintenance work, new components, and she was desperately craving real coffee.

The bridge of the Caliburn, however, gleamed as it appeared on the main display. A tall officer who fit his uniform very well stood before a command seat, master of his domain. ‘Monitoring Station Alpha, this is Captain Kehinde Hargreaves of the starship Caliburn. Thank you for the welcome.’

‘What’s your business?’ It wasn’t that she meant to be rude. But rolling out the red carpet took an effort Gabrielle couldn’t summon.

Hargreaves hesitated. ‘We have a resupply for you. Material for the industrial replicators.’

‘Material won’t help if they’re still running at two-thirds capacity.’

‘I wasn’t aware there were issues with the replicators.’

‘There aren’t issues with the replicators. There are issues with the power grid. You here to fix that?’

Hargreaves glanced off-screen. ‘Our orders are for a resupply mission, then to head for the border, Izar.’

‘Oh. More Dominion?’ She tried to keep her voice light, but felt a flutter in her gut at the mere facetious idea.

‘No, no.’ He gave a small laugh he probably thought was reassuring. ‘We’re going beyond the border. Starfleet is committed to investing in the sector as a launching ground for exploratory missions.’

That was good news. Gabrielle knew it was good news. If Starfleet wanted to send ships through Deneb, if they wanted to make more use of Farpoint and SB514, they’d need to supply stations and vessels from worlds of the sector. They’d need defensive and economic infrastructure. They’d need to stop ignoring Deneb like they had for twenty years.

Like the had since the Dominion arrived.

Instead, Gabrielle said, ‘Is Starfleet committed to making my shower work reliably?’

Hargreaves raised his hands. ‘We’ll see what we can do. And I’ll be sure to run this up the chain. We’re not going to leave you with your needs unmet, Izar. Now, permission to enter orbit?’

Gabrielle glanced at Stroven and gave a brisk nod. ‘Permission granted, Caliburn. Transmitting traffic pattern entry route now. Please enjoy your stay. Monitoring Station Alpha out.’

Her smile did not reach her eyes, and it did not look like Hargreaves believed her. But she cut the transmission before he could reply, and the little control hub looked darker and dingier without the image of Starfleet on the display.

‘Back off to explore,’ she sighed, blowing out her cheeks. ‘Alright for some.’

‘At least they’re here,’ Stroven pointed out. ‘This could be good.’

‘It is good.’ She wanted to be sincere, but saying it didn’t make it real this time. With a sound of frustration, Gabrielle headed for the main sensor controls. ‘Let’s do another scanning sweep. We didn’t see the Caliburn coming in; that bugs me.’

‘Gabby…’ Stroven leaned across his console. ‘You know they’re not coming back.’

‘I know,’ Gabrielle lied. ‘Just… let’s see what’s out there.’

With the invasion over, the Dominion had surrendered and was back within the Gamma Quadrant, with the renegade Changeling and Borg plot coming to light during Frontier Day now behind them. Officers were still processing what had happened, and younger officers who were affected by the Jupiter Signal were undergoing counseling to help process what they had done. This wasn’t going to stop them from doing what they must to help those who were truly affected by the Lost Fleet invasion and occupation of worlds they had conquered.

Worlds still needed help in repairing what was destroyed during their occupation. The ships from the Fourth Fleet had been summoned to help those worlds rebuild. The Verity would be no different and would be getting into the thick of things just like everyone else. Currently, they were at Farpoint Station taking on supplies that were needed.

Commodore Jori was down in the command and control center that was used as a base of operations when coordinating with other ships within the Task Force. Jori was in one of their meeting rooms that she usually used for meetings as it had a state-of-the-art system to make sharing information easier. She had the Deneb sector pulled up in a holographic image above the table, showing each system that had once been occupied by the Dominion during the war.

“Sir,” came the voice of her yeoman. “Captain Trent has arrived.”

“Thank you, send him in.”

“The yeoman said you wanted to speak with me, ma’am?” Simon asked.

“Thank you for coming,” Jori began as she looked at what she was looking at before he entered. She motioned at the chair on the other side of the table, hinting at him having a seat. “We have much to discuss.”

Simon took the proffered seat and raised an eyebrow. “The Deneb Sector? Has the Lost Fleet returned?” 

She shook her head and looked at him for a moment. She was still getting a feel for him, as he recently was assigned as her executive officer. “As you can see, the highlighted areas are systems within the Deneb sector that were seized by the Dominion,” Jori began, allowing him to look for a brief moment before moving on. “Ships within the Fourth Fleet have been summoned to assist with rebuilding for those worlds that were affected by the occupation.”

“It stands to reason it would come to us, as we’re designated for humanitarian ops. Are we setting out to Deneb or coordinating from here?”

Tapping the holographic image, she brought up the Sevury system with information about the planet in question. “We will be heading to Sevury as they were hit hard when the Dominion captured the world,” said Jori as she sent the information about Sevury to his padd.

“Ah, Sevury would be a good place to start. I haven’t finished reading all of the fleet reports, but they were hit pretty hard by the Dominion.”

She listened to him speak before she nodded in agreement. “Though we are unsure of the complete damage that was done. I am pretty sure that a good portion of their tritanium was taken, among other things,” Jori said as she worked her jaw for a moment, as she didn’t like not having information readily available. Things would have to be answered upon their arrival in the system.

Simon nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. Even if the Dominion weren’t building with it, it would go a long way toward gaining allies,” He let out a slow sigh, that would be a problem for another day. “When do we depart?”

“As soon as all the supplies are loaded in our cargo bay that is intended for Sevury.”

“Understood. I’ll have the team double-time on the resupply and make sure the systems checks are completed immediately.” He rose from his chair. “I can also reach out to some contacts to see if I can get more clear information about Sevury. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to be underway.”

“Thank you,” said Jori as she watched him rise from his chair before heading out of the office. Returning to the holographic map after zooming it back out to the whole sector, she began to study it again. Jori was planning on sending both the Saratoga and Triumph to the Nasera system to pick up where they had left off after the liberation of Nasera II. She would also be contacting others with their orders. The Verity would be leaving Farpoint Station within the next couple of hours and she still had work that needed to be done before they departed.

“War is hard, but rebuilding is harder,” mused an aged rear admiral as he stared out the wide sweeping window at the stars that lay beyond. They looked so peaceful, hanging there in the night sky, but that was merely the illusion of distance. He knew the reality was far different.

“Across the sector, the ships of the Fourth Fleet are engaged in efforts to rebuild infrastructure damaged in the conflict,” explained a young captain, her tone straightforward and businesslike in sharp contrast to the more contemplative tenor of her boss. “Each day, we receive positive reports of the progress being made.”

“It is not the factories and refineries that I worry most about,” Rear Admiral Alex Grayson cautioned as he turned to his assistant. “It’s the people.”

Captain Elsie Drake stared at the new commander of Task Force 47 quizzically. She’d risen through the ranks during the relative peace of the nineties. She knew not the scars that war could leave. Rear Admiral Grayson, on the other hand, knew those scars all too well, especially from this enemy. He’d seen what they could do in the seventies, and they would be central to the challenge that lay ahead. 

“So what’s the plan then?” Captain Drake asked, not sure where he was going with this.

“Under our task force mandate of pathfinding operations, it is our responsibility to set up the mechanisms for the Fourth Fleet to relaunch its engine of exploration,” Rear Admiral Grayson explained. “That means the physical infrastructure to support expeditionary operations – from frontier maintenance facilities to deep space comms relays – and it also means rebuilding relationships with our colonies and neighbors so our explorers have safe shores at their back.” 

Standing with her arms crossed as the other two talked, the deputy commander of Task Force 47 looked deep in thought. “The domino effect of the Lost Fleet, the Changelings and the Borg did not do well for us in that regard. It will be difficult to reclaim the hearts and souls of the Deneb region,” Captain Ryoko Takato observed. Like Grayson, she’d experienced the Dominion War and what came after.  “And the issue is getting worse. There are rumors of Federation secession starting to spread, and our borders are being tested by raiders and profiteers.” The colonies had every right to feel abandoned after what had transpired, and their neighbors had watched on or, in the case of the Breen, even supported the Lost Fleet as it rampaged across their space.

“This will be the backdrop for our captains and crews,” agreed Rear Admiral Grayson. “Each should be briefed and prepared for this multidimensionality. We have a primary mission, one of expeditionary infrastructure, but that doesn’t mean public relations, frontier diplomacy or tactical interdiction won’t come into play.”

“It’s a lot to ask,” Captain Takato cautioned bluntly. After the battles to hold the Deneb Sector, and the losses suffered at Avalon and over Earth on Frontier Day, the task force was beaten up. “We’re stretched thin. We’ve got ships understaffed after recent battles, some with new crews and inexperienced COs, and others still undergoing repairs. We cannot discredit the mental impact from what they all just went through either. For many, this will be the first time they’ve ever seen all-out war.” Her mind flashed to the conversation she’d just recently had with the Executive Officer of the Tokyo. She would not sugarcoat the challenges that still lay ahead.

“Healing others is often a way to heal oneself,” Rear Admiral Grayson offered from personal experience. “Let’s work on finding assignments for the ships on the mend that will not push them into a new crisis in their weakened state.” He picked up a PADD off his desk and handed it to Captain Takato. “Take the Dragon, for example. After destroying the dilithium mines on Deptrock 6, Captain Rigras delivered the slaves she freed to Farpoint for temporary housing. But what comes next for the liberated? Captain Rigras could work on a resettlement plan that gives them new purpose and simultaneously addresses workforce shortages on colony worlds key to restarting exploratory efforts.”

Tapping her finger on the side of the PADD, Captain Takato processed what he was saying. “Resettlement… The Dragon is a solid ship, and Captain Rigras has shown the ability to keep her head cool in stressful situations. I would say that she could handle frontline colonies and be the envoy we need her to be,” Captain Takato nodded to herself. “And if she encounters any trouble, the Dragon has the teeth to bite back. I think she would be up for the task.” As much as Grayson was not focused on the tactical aspects, Takato couldn’t shake those threats.

“And what about the Atlantis after her hero’s entrance at the Battle of Farpoint? Or the Cardiff and the Sojourner, whose COs and crews showed a depth of fortitude and resourcefulness through the recent crises? Or the Alhambra, fresh out of drydock? We’ve got a good group of ships here, solid material to work with,” Rear Admiral Grayson smiled. “Prepare a plan that deploys our assets to rehabilitate strategic infrastructure for a renewed mission of exploration.”

Captain Takato looked like something was still bothering her. “Exploration…” she mused as she looked at the map on the desk. “The northwest has been quiet ever since the Dominion left it behind. I am struggling with what we should do there. We can’t just let it be.” Reports of unknown structures and wrecks left behind by the Lost Fleet had recently reached them.

“You said it yourself Captain. We are stretched thin. Our captains and crews have suffered losses,” Rear Admiral Grayson cautioned, being realistic to the situation before them. It wasn’t that Captain Takato was wrong, but there was also only so much their task force could do.  “I am wary of overextending our position before we’ve stabilized and strengthened the Deneb Sector. Maybe we send an asset or two, if we can muster it…”

“No, it is something we have to provide assets to,” Captain Takato insisted. She had not failed to notice that he’d used her own words against her. “The Ferengi and other enterprising graverobbers will certainly have caught wind about… hidden treasures… the stuff the Lost Fleet left behind when it fled… and we all know it can’t fall into the hands of such people.” 

“I suppose you are right,” conceded Rear Admiral Grayson. “Not just because of the risks though, but also the opportunities. We may be able to repurpose the infrastructure the Dominion left behind to leapfrog our ambitions of exploration.” He paused for a moment, considering their options. “Let’s reassign the Polaris and a small squadron out that way.”

“The Polaris is still occupied with the situation on Nasera,” Captain Drake cautioned. “The occupation did a number on the capital, and it’s still a full blown humanitarian crisis.” It would take significant work still to revitalize the city and heal the wounds of its people.

“Admiral Reyes does not strike me as a humanitarian,” Rear Admiral Grayson stated in an unimpressed tone. “Not after she so swiftly jetted away from Nasera at the first opportunity.” He had a bone to pick with her about that, and the people of Nasera deserved someone committed to their plight. “Commodore Jori will be reallocating Saratoga Squadron to Nasera as Task Force 93 is better equipped for humanitarian operations, leaving us a wayward admiral to entertain.”

Captain Drake quirked an eyebrow. There seemed to be little love lost between those two.

“And we’ll take the Nobel out that way too,” Rear Admiral Grayson added, referencing the ship on which they currently stood. “She’s the flagship of pathfinder operations so let’s go be pathfinders with her.”

A Galaxy, an Odyssey, and some additional ships were enough to appease Captain Takato. She appreciated that Rear Admiral Grayson had not flat out dismissed her concerns.  “What do you think, Captain Drake? Anything we’re missing here?” Captain Takato asked, acknowledging that Captain Drake had been with the task force longer than her or Rear Admiral Grayson.

“We are talking about splitting our task force between two very different sorts of operations,” Captain Drake observed. “One to set up future infrastructure for exploration, and one that seeds exploration on a new frontier. We need to split our command staff to support both.”

“You two go on ahead with the Nobel,” Rear Admiral Grayson offered. “I’ll stay back in the core of the Deneb Sector to support our ships working on core infrastructure.” 

Captain Takato had a hunger to start pathfinding in the unknown once more, while Rear Admiral Grayson recognized the importance of the work they still had to do here to support their future ambitions of exploration. Both would be critical to their success.

The Deneb sector, once a vibrant expanse of stars and celestial wonders, was now a haunting testament to the savagery of conflict on an astronomical scale. Even though the conflict between the Federation and its enemies had been significantly smaller in both length and scale than the Dominion War, the Deneb region had still been reduced to a bleak and desolate battlefield, marred by the wreckage of countless battles and the remnants of shattered civilisations.

But even in the wake of such devastation, there were still countless wonders to explore and scientific discoveries to be had. Natives, including those from worlds formally in dispute, were banding together to bring hope to the region after months of uncertainty. Rebuilding civilisations would take time, but as always Starfleet was there to support them in their endeavours. On the leading edge of the relief efforts, the Odyssey-class USS Discovery had been in orbit of Arriana Prime for several days, deploying relief teams consisting of members from almost every department on the ship, in order to aid with various issues that had arisen since the conflict with the Breen/Dominion alliance had ended.

From the bridge, the command center of all things, Discovery’s Denobulan mistress, Captain Zephra, was overseeing things on the ship whilst her Strategic Operations Officer, Commander Dalgleish oversaw developments on the surface. Thankfully, it was business as usual for now, allowing the Captain some time to kick back and relax in the comfort of her command chair. It had been a long few weeks since Discovery’s launch under the auspices of the Fourth Fleet’s Task Force 17, and until they had arrived at Arriana, the crew felt like they hadn’t even had time to breathe, let alone time to recover from the trau…

A shrill beeping from the nearby science console caused the Denobulan’s left brow to rise, a sense of curiosity casually filling her as she used her planted left leg to turn her chair to port. The beeping occurred a second time, causing her great consternation.

“Are you really going to make me ask, Lieutenant?” the Captain frowned, eyes boring a hole into the back of the poor Andorian’s head.

Flustered, having hoped the Captain had been distracted enough not to hear the beeping, Lieutenant th’Shiren’s shoulders dropped at the question from the Captain. “We appear to be receiving some intriguing sensor data Captain, but I’m struggling to make sense of it,” he revealed, eventually turning to make eye contact with the Denobulan.

Propelling herself to her feet, the Captain was mid-stride towards the science terminal when a second voice from starboard distracted her.

“I think I know why the Lieutenant is struggling,” a yellow-clad officer stated, his glance at the Captain suggesting she should divert course to his station instead.

Once the Denobulan reached the operations station, a quick scout over the display caused her to stand bolt-upright and fold her arms across her chest. “Intriguing indeed,” she smirked.

After some contemplation, she nodded slowly and tapped the top edge of the console. “Download it to the ship’s database,” she instructed as she began to stride towards the aft turbo lift. “Contact Romaes and let him know I’m on my way to speak with him…”

“–and the Gilroy rounds out our list of ships currently dispatched to the Delta Quadrant,” said Khim. She gave Romaes a moment more to study the holographic map floating on the table between them, and after a slight nod from him she cast it aside. It fizzled and disappeared, and a list of stats appeared in its place.

“As you can see, most of our fleet was far enough from the Jupiter signal on Frontier Day as to be unaffected, with several exceptions. The Reliant is fully operational again, the Blythe is finishing repairs at Earth Spacedock, and the Hathaway is completing repairs at Avalon.”

“We were lucky,” the Bajoran sighed as he retook his seat behind the desk in his new stateroom aboard Discovery. His deputies’ report had been detailed and thorough, and that made it easier for them to appreciate the break Task Force 17 had received. “Compared to some units in the fleet, we came out of the Deneb conflict and Frontier Day relatively unscathed,” rubbing his eyes, he tried his best to stifle a yawn and not come across as rude.

“Those are contagious, you know,” said Khim, and she punctuated her statement with a wide yawn behind her hand. She sighed, looked down at the PADD in her hands, and then cast it aside as she stood up and made a beeline to the replicator. “I think I could use something caffeinated. Would you like something as well?”

Before Romaes could answer, there was a chime at the door. Khim pulled a coffee from the replicator and took a long sip to keep from reflexively answering on his behalf.

“Raktajino,” Romaes nodded, then turned his attention to the door across the room. “Enter!” he beckoned.

With permission granted, the ship’s Denobulan commander strolled into the room and stopped just inches from Romaes’ desk. “Sorry to bother you both, but there’s something you should see,” she advised the two, then gestured to the wall screen behind his desk.

Romaes nodded, then spun in his chair to watch as Discovery’s captain started tapping on the wall monitor and pulled up a dozen or so different files, each showing similar information. Whilst a lot of the symbols were Starfleet in nature, some were familiar for other reasons, and drew the Bajoran task force commander to his feet. “The Dominion?” he asked.

“Sensor data from the Dominion, surrendered to us,” said Captain Zephra, not bothering to mask the smirk that appeared on her face.

Khim approached the screen and absently set the Fleet Captain’s raktajino on the desk as her eyes began scanning the data.

“Their ships picked up a number of intriguing readings when they were making their way here to the Deneb Sector,” Zephra continued. “Nothing they thought was worth their attention, but Starfleet Command thought it might be of great interest to us.”

A smile spread across Khim’s face as she scrolled through the seemingly-endless text. “Just at a glance, I see readings that could indicate cosmic string, thermobaric clouds, subspace eddies, and this…” She zoomed in on a set of coordinates. “This looks like it could be a primitive communications protocol, possibly from a pre-warp civilization.”

Taking ownership of the raktajino, Romaes sipped the beverage while listening to the update from the mistress of Discovery. As he watched the data on the screen scroll past he suddenly reached out to stop the feed in its tracks. “I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty sure that’s a graviton surge?” he posited, looking at the two women for confirmation.

Khim and Zephra leaned in closer to the screen, and nodded in unison.

“Very unusual concentration,” said Zephra.

“It could be so many things!” said Khim, her voice growing louder with excitement. “A natural phenomenon, or alien technology. We won’t know until someone gets out there to take a closer look!”

Romaes gave the data a final look over, then turned to his colleagues with a massive grin. It wasn’t every day that they got presented with several scientific and exploratory endeavours on a platter, but thanks to the Dominion, they had been presented with a unique opportunity.

“Okay Captain,” the TFCO looked at the Denobulan. “Hold our position but recall your people. I’ll put out a call and see if we can put together a little expeditionary force to check out these phenomena.” A swivel of his head later and he was looking at the TFXO. “Reach out to the task force, see if anyone’s free. Exploring this region might just give some of our people a welcome respite from the torture of recent weeks,” he requested.

“A chance to get back to what Starfleet does best,” Khim said in agreement. She was still smiling broadly as she nodded to Romaes and then nearly sprinted out of the room, coffee still in hand.

Watching as Captain Zephra followed her colleague out of his office, the Bajoran task force commander let out a wide, boyish grin. Some strange phenomena were on their doorstep, waiting to be explored, and they were about to do so aboard one of the finest ships in the fleet. What an exciting opportunity. He just hoped that some commanders from around the fleet would feel the same way.

“Computer,” he spun the screen of his terminal to face him as he leant on the desk with his fists, “identify all starships in the Deneb region awaiting assignments…”

Sevury had been absolutely devastated during the Lost Fleet Crisis. While Starfleet had attempted to liberate it from the Dominion Occupation, that effort was thwarted, and the Dominion were able to rip enormous amounts of natural resources out of the planet’s crust, disrupting both the Sevurians’ mining operations and ruining millions of square kilometers of agricultural land in the process. While the Starfleet Corps of Engineers began their soil reclamation work, a smaller and lesser-known organization had set up a tent camp in what had once been the breadbasket of the planet.

The Starfleet Bureau of Agronomy specialized in making advancements in soil management and crop yields. They were the scientists who made it possible for damaged worlds like Sevury to come back from terrible damage and once again support their population’s nutritional needs. They already had several experimental fields of wheat, corn, and barley, with a number of different cultivars being tested in various soil conditions, as well as a vegetable garden and a flower garden.

Elizabeth Hayden was documenting the growth rate of a rosa polyantha bush she had planted a few weeks prior. You couldn’t eat a rose bush, sure, but flowering plants were essential to a balanced ecology to provide pollinators with a reliable food source. She’d started at Starfleet Academy as a xenobotany student over 50 years prior and then spent the first fifteen years of her career in the blue uniform of a science officer. During her more than thirty years in the command division, she’d continued to cultivate flowers, as she found it intensely rewarding to nurture something so that it could flourish.

After the events of the Lost Fleet Crisis, she left the Academy on Mellstoxx III behind so that she could help with the rebuilding of Deneb. After decades in command roles, she finally had the chance to dive back into her real passion: science. Hayden had become a diplomat and a strategist out of necessity. It went all the way back to Wolf 359 and the Dominion War, which had taught her that Starfleet and the Federation needed more captains than they did botanists, but now, at the beginning of the 25th Century, she’d felt she’d given enough to earn a few months with her plants.

Hayden took off one of her thick gardening gloves so that she could wipe the sweat from her forehead. While she normally had her hair styled down, it was pulled back into a tight ponytail to make her work easier. She heard the whine of a Starfleet transporter but didn’t pay it much mind, as people and supplies were constantly coming and going to the relief ships and office. A few minutes later, a man cleared his throat. She glanced up to see a familiar face—Captain Noah Armstrong, whom she had commissioned to take command of the Antares.

“Captain Armstrong. What can I do for you?” Hayden asked, pulling off her other glove but not standing from her roses.

“You weren’t answering your communicator, Admiral,” Armstrong said, handing her the red-trimmed field jacket she’d left in the lab tent. She still wasn’t used to seeing the three-pip insignia it bore on both sides of the collar. “Admiral Dahlgren would very much like to speak to you.”

Hayden chuckled. “So he diverted a starship all the way across the sector?” she asked, standing up and putting her jacket back on.

“Not exactly, ma’am. I believe he thought that a ride on the Antares might soften the blow,” Armstrong replied. Hayden’s eyes flickered with preemptive rage. Starfleet always found some reason to get her back out into some crisis, so she couldn’t wait to hear what it was this time. “We’ve set up a communications link in your lab.”

Hayden straightened her jacket with obvious irritation before leading the way through the flower beds to the tent that served as her lab. Several of her technicians were there, so she dismissed them to go find something to eat before pulling up the transmission that was waiting for her on the central analysis table. A Starfleet seal was momentarily projected over the table before a 2D display of Admiral Dahlgren’s office on the Susan B. Anthony replaced it.

“Admiral Dahlgren, I’d say it’s good to see you, but my roses really need me,” Hayden quipped.

“I really do apologize, Elizabeth, but we’re going to have to cut your stay on Sevury short,” Dahlgren said.

“It’s not a vacation, Liam. I’m trying to stabilize an agroecological system,” Hayden replied.

“I am not at all trying to downplay the importance of your research,” Dahlgren said with a sigh. “The Lost Fleet and Frontier Day have thrown our exploratory plans into chaos. I need someone with the necessary experience and authority to make sure that nothing is missed out there. You’re that person.”

Hayden shook her head. “In what capacity?”

The vice admiral imagined herself being sent back to Starbase Bravo as some sort of Assistant Deputy Commander for Exploration Policy or some other such absurdly long and irrelevant title.

“In a very direct capacity. This isn’t a desk job. I’m putting you in command of Task Force 17,” the admiral replied. “I need a legendary explorer and a diplomat.”

That wasn’t the answer Hayden was expecting; a task force was definitely a field assignment and something that wouldn’t normally go to such a senior flag officer.

“Please. ‘Legendary’ is too much of a stretch to even be flattering,” Hayden replied. “I don’t mean to sound snooty, but that’s an odd assignment for a vice admiral. What’s so important that a captain couldn’t handle this assignment? Or a fleet captain. Michael Lancaster would whip them into shape.”

“That’s exactly the point. I want a senior flag officer at the head of this task force to demonstrate the Fourth Fleet’s commitment to resuming our exploratory agenda,” Dahlgren clarified. “Your deputy will be Captain Khim Samnang. I’ll give you Lancaster and Arcturus Squadron, too.”

“Is it worth asking what happened to the previous commander of this task force?” Hayden asked, narrowing her eyes.

“No,” Dahlgren said, simply. “Get our exploratory house in order, and I’ll find you a botanical research facility to study all the soil pH and plant nutrition you like.”

Hayden pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Is Superman here going to take me to Deep Space 17?” she asked.

“He is, indeed. Good luck, Admiral. Dahlgren out.”

Dahlgren’s image vanished. Hayden turned to where Armstrong was standing off to the side.

“What do you think about all of this, Captain?” Hayden asked.

“Respectfully, ma’am, I’m a scientist, too. The work you’re doing here is important, but there are lots of botanists in Starfleet. There aren’t that many admirals with records like yours,” Armstrong replied.

Hayden thought about that for a moment. She found herself weakening to the idea of getting back out into space. Exploration and science were her passions, and she could see the points of both Dahlgren and Armstrong, even though she wished she could have stayed with her rose garden on Sevury. Still, she wasn’t going to go down without a few demands.

“There’s a binary pulsar between here and Deep Space 17, isn’t there?” she asked.

“I believe so…”

“I’ve never seen a binary pulsar up close before. Add it to the itinerary,” she ordered. “Also, Cooper Robinson is on your crew, right? I’m borrowing him as flag lieutenant until we get to DS17.”

Armstrong was visibly taken aback for a moment. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Hayden to Antares. Two to beam up,” Hayden said.

Moments later, the two officers vanished in a column of energy.

“No, I understand why they asked for a medical response….my question is why they’re so insistent it be us.  They’ve held radio silence for the last two years and refused any help we’ve offered in the past.”  Task Force 72 Commanding Officer Geronimo Fontana stood in the middle of his new office, a holo-screen against the wall.

On the screen was Peter Crawford, the captain of the USS Olympic.  A nearby colony had suddenly come alive with requests.  He hadn’t been concerned and had thought calling his Task Force Commander would be a good checking of the box.  After all, he had a yeoman thanks to Captain Fontana.  They weren’t friends.  Yet.  Pete was now a little more concerned, “They say they’ve had a change in elected officials and legislature…which, now that I’ve said it out loud, sounds like a coup or something messy and violent.”

Geronimo shook his head in annoyance, “It sounds like things are a little rougher down there than I’d like.  I can have Mackenzie to you in a day or so.”  He caught the briefest look on his captain’s face, but it was gone before he could identify the connected emotion.

Crawford returned to shake of the head, “No, we’ve got a strong security team, and our Hazard team is well trained and tuned.  We can take it from here, sir.”

The TFCO waited a beat.  He could argue.  He could order.  He also had to learn to trust his people.  It felt odd saying those words in his head, yet…it felt good.  Not powerful or egotistical…it felt good to have a team he was responsible for again.  “Keep in touch, Captain Crawford.  Take it from here, if you will.”  A nod and the channel closed.  The chime rang, and his new TFXO strode into the office, “Good morning, Varen.”  They’d met a week ago when the young Bajoran had been accepted into the position.  They’d become informal with each other despite the rank difference.  Fontana avoided lording his rank over others.

The young man collapsed into one of the nearby chairs, “I’ve been fielding calls all night from bases throughout Deneb.” A short sigh escaped his lips. “Tylo III, Astrid VII, even a panicked call from Gilligan Outpost. We’re seeing government upheavals across the sector, and everyone is worried about the proverbial powder keg.”

Silence descended upon the room, broken only by the gentle tingle of Varen’s earing.  “Morning, by the way.” he finished, reaching up to push back a particularly rebellious forlock. “Anything particularly concerning?” In truth, all of it was concerning; the Dominion’s Lost Fleet had highlighted Starfleet’s lack of preparation.

Fontana held up a PADD, “My list is as long as yours.  Janoor III is at the top – The Mackenzie’s report is hard to read.  There’s a lot of ashes on the ground…rebuilding on top of that is what’s got people worried…or losing their minds.”  He paused and muttered, “Goddamn Dominion.”  He tapped at his desk console, “The saving grace in all this is that Fourth Fleet is putting as many of our ships in play to help start preparing the wounds.”

“I heard about Janoor.” He sucked his teeth. ”Goddamn Dominion.”

”I’ve already dispatched Daedalus along with Theta Squad to Gilligan Base. They took in a lot of refugees during the occupation, and there’s some…” the young Bajoran searched for the right word. The flight of these people struck a personal chord with the young man and he was still struggling to balance his personal history with his duty to the Federation. “…friction.” He finished, choosing the word carefully. “The base commander has suggested they return home.“

Another solemn silence fell over the duo as Geronimo scrolled through the ever-growing list of reports. The Federation had suffered greatly at the hands of the Dominion, twice in less than 50 years; they both knew that some of these refugees might not have a home to return to.

“Captain Tanek is a hero several times over and a poster boy for Federation unity, but I might head over to Deneb to lend a personal touch,” Varen suggested, fumbling idly with the empty mug he absently brought with him from his desk. “It could be helpful to coordinate on the ground; I expect we’re going to have a lot of inter-task force work.” Standing from his chair with a sigh beyond his years, he tidied his collar and continued battle with his unruly hair. “Assuming you can spare me from base, boss?”

Geronimo stood and snagged the empty cup from his hand, sliding it under the replicator and tapping the button he’d reserved for the TFXO’s preferred drink.  He slid the cup back into the waiting man’s hand a second later.  He replied, “I can spare you – only if you promise not to burn yourself out.  I’m a doctor, not a mad scientist.  I can’t put you back together if you stretch yourself too far.”

“I appreciate it.” He tilted the cold Raktajino, letting out a contended sigh as he took a sip. “And the concern.” Just as he turned to go, the doors settling open with a whisper, he paused. “My mother was a legal clerk under the occupational government, then in the provisional government, and still is behind her desk in some corner of the Federation’s shiny new office. Each day after class I would watch her listen to the worries of her clients and they would leave that small room feeling the galaxy was a bit more hopeful. She felt it was her duty to help them simply because they came to her little desk.” Varen turned to the far more seasoned and experienced officer, a man who had, in the most literal sense, saved innumerable lives. “The people of Deneb Sector trusted us to do our duty, to protect them, to shelter them, to make the galaxy more hopeful. We failed.” Taking a small step back through the doorway he smiled, lifting his cup once more in thanks. “I think we owe a little stretching.”

Fontana indicated a salute with his refilled coffee cup, “Fair Winds and Following Seas, Varen.”  The young officer was out the door and on his way.  Geronimo turned his attention back to the crowded holo-screen. There was still so much work to be done.

Anderson made his way down the corridors of Starbase 86 with his head held high. He knew damn well that most of the people on the station didn’t actually know who he was – yet – or what position he held – yet – but he was proud of it anyway. He turned down the corridors toward the offices he and his CO would occupy. He adjusted the collar on his uniform one last time before stepping into the antechamber of Captain Takato’s office and smiling at the yeoman.

“Captain Keith Anderson, TFXO for 86, to see Captain Takato,” he said, liking how those words came out of his mouth.

“Captain Takato had not yet arrived. I had received the information that her transport ship had docked, and she was making her way to the office as we spoke,” the woman spoke formally. “Please take a…” The woman turned her head to the hallway, and a Captain walked quickly to them. “I believe your appointment is here…”

Slowing down, Takato looked at her assistant briefly and then back at Anderson. “Follow me.” Without a moment for her assistant to reply, Takato entered the office. “Take a seat. I had not had the chance to settle back in,” Takato placed her PADDs on the table. “Brief introduction, my name is Captain Ryoko Takato, the Task Force Commanding Officer of Task Force 86. I would love to offer you a drink, but we are straight to business.”

Anderson gave a grin and a shrug to the Yeoman as he stepped into her office behind the TFCO. He took the offered seat and smiled at the woman across from him. “Not a problem, ma’am! I was getting here myself,” he explained. “What do we have, Captain?”

She took a seat and looked at the desk that was vaguely familiar to her. “The whole situation of the Lost Fleet, the Changeling plot, not to forget the Borg.” Takato paused briefly and sighed. “Task Force 86 has quite a mission to accomplish, and we are tasked to focus most of our forces on the Deneb region.” Leaning back in her chair, she continued, “I got myself briefed on the way from Deep Space 47 to hear about everything related to the task force affairs. We can send ships to border defense and patrols for vulnerable colonies, as they were easy prey for pirates right now.”

Anderson nodded, “Understood, ma’am. With the Breen poking out our borders, it will be a lot of work for CO’s to keep all the colonies safe,” He said. “Have we started looking at improved patrol routes?” He asked.

Tapping her finger on the desk, Takato knew the topic would rise. She slowly nodded. “The Breen are a wild card, taking advantage of our weakened state. We have some reports of raids from the Breen on the outer colonies. It’s ad hoc changes to our patrols to adapt to the Breen movement. So sending ships to these colonies would be a godsend as we hit the mark on protecting the region and boosting morale with those colonists who felt abandoned by us during the Lost Fleet invasion.”

“Do we already have the new patrol routes mapped?” Anderson asked.

Shaking her head, she said, “It’s difficult to adapt to their random movement, but the latest data is helping,” Takato shrugged. “If Starfleet were not a mess right now after that whole Changeling affair… we would have had this under control.” Takato leaned back in her chair. “But we will manage.” She nodded to herself and looked back at Anderson. “We have to…. USS Resolute did its job protecting Arriana. But even after USS Alita best efforts at Sevury the Dominion managed to get enormous amounts of natural resources.” Takato shrugged at that last part “Starfleet Corps of Engineers have their hands full of that one. It still amazes me that Starfleet reinstated Reese-Riggs and gave him a command.” She mutters that Starfleet must be desperate to get a man with his reputation back. Takato shoves the PADD to Anderson. “Our task force has some great assets that performed outstandingly during the crises we endured.”

“Absolutely,” He explained. “I was reading over the mission briefings on the way over from the Asger and was impressed by what I saw.” Anderson took a look at the PADD and checked over the info there. “You know… With Reese-Riggs in the fold now as the new Captain of the USS Resolute… If we assign him and USS Manticore to patrol sector Alpha-9, shift USS Alita and USS Lafayette into Beta-6… No matter where the Breen comes in, we’d have a pretty good line. We’d need to modify some deployments as we figure out their movements more, but it might be a start,” He offered, tapping in his suggestions on the PADD and sliding it back to his CO.

“What do you think, Captain?”

Rubbing her left temple slowly, letting it sink in the suggested information, “I agree that this is the most efficient way to protect our borders. I will look into the ship listing of our task force and who else we can send. Commodore Cromwell was already begging not to be set behind a desk, so good news for him that we send the USS Lafayette back out again.”  Takato nodded. “The efforts of USS Los Angeles and USS Jaxartes work in the field by doing those patrols during the invasion was highly valuable, so I hope we can count on them also. Sadly, we have the USS Mariner operating in Delta Quadrant, but I got my hands on the USS Tokyo and sent them to the borders for more in-depth exploration.”

“That sounds like a good stack of ships and CO’s,” Anderson said with a smile. “We should be in good shape.”

She gave a soft smile. “As I stated in a briefing with Rear Admiral Grayson, we are stretched thin, understaffed on ships due to recent battles and mostly new crew. So…” Takato looked at Anderson “We will do our part to show our people that we are there with them. Get the USS Majestic ready for launch. We are heading out to the borders. We will head to Arriana and use the ship as the operational center to coordinate the patrols and new information.”

“Yes, ma’am! Will do!” Anderson replied with a salute. “Looking forward to working together,” he said before turning and leaving the office.

As Anderson left the office, Takato sank back in her chair, taking a brief second to rest and taking a deep breath. “From exploration back to protecting our borders… this job never gets old” she told herself. Takato tapped the console on her desk. “Petty Officer, send out word to the USS Majestic to prepare for departure within 3 hours.”

“Understood, Captain” came a brief reply.