—- Debelius IV, North Polar Region —-

Like many planets’ polar regions the one on Debelius IV was furthest from the sun, and thus fridged cold. It also was, as determined by the science team on the USS Selene, the best place to take up close readings on the planet’s surface. Thus the Selene sent a science team, and the threat of Cardassian and the New Maquis caused the USS Falcon to send a security team to accompany them.

The two ships’ runabouts landed and the crew disembarked wearing heavy coats to protect from the freezing temperatures. Debelius IV was known, as much as it was known at all, as a rather temperate climate but it got cold up north hidden away from the system’s single sun.

Lieutenant Commander Kenaya Mason oversaw the placement of equipment in the area while the newly named First Officer Commander Ashley Attwell of the Falcon handled the security teams.  

“So you’ve been First Officer before?” Mason asked her counterpart, curious about the other woman’s journey to where she was.

Attwell nodded, “On the USS Regina, it got damaged on Frontier Day. Eventually, they reassigned us, as its repairs were taking longer than expected.”

“I was Assistant Chief Science Officer,” Mason said, “Everyone else turned down the job.”

“Less dealing with crap than being captain, plus you get to go on away missions,” Attwell said, “Best role in the fleet if you asked me.”

Pulling her hood tightly against her face Mason sighed, “Give me a temperature-controlled lab any day.”

Attwell looked at the smaller woman, obviously it was not pleasant down on the surface of this planet. Being at the pole, they were dealing with harsh cold and the medical teams that had been dispatched to population centers were feeding the hungry, and dealing with those injured by the quake, but she couldn’t imagine how frustrating it would be to be cooped up in a Ready Room orbiting the planet just reading dry reports rather than down on the surface getting your hands dirty.

“Hume, expand the perimeter but keep everyone in eyesight. We don’t want anyone getting separated,” Attwell yelled at her Chief Security Officer, gesturing with her arm to indicate the widening of the security perimeter that they’d established. Truthfully it was unlikely that they’d encounter anything there, if either the Cardassians or Maquis were going to cause issues, for any reason, they’d do it where it was both warmer and where resources like food, medical supplies, and backup power sources were being deployed. Still they were being cautious, as something was likely to go wrong at some point.

—- USS Falcon, Flag Bridge —-

The two ships’ commanding officers exchanged a glance and then Captain Olivia Carrillo registered her protest, “But Captain Aike is the more senior and experienced Captain, shouldn’t he take the lead.”

The Vulcan Captain Radak nodded, the information was true, but incomplete, “Captain Aike served in the Dominion War, the Falcon attacked Cardassian weapons depots. The commanding officer of the Cardassian forces is also a war veteran, as am I. It is illogical but humans and Cardassians have an emotional attachment to their past,” Radak explained.

“I’m not a diplomat,” Carrillo said, realizing slowly that this was not an argument she was likely to win, as annoying as hosting the Cardassian delegation was going to be.

“No, but you did not kill any Cardies,” Aike said.

“That is a blunt way of phrasing that, but ultimately the point,” Radak said glancing first at Aike and then back to Carrillo, “And as a newer ship the Selene is neutral ground, or as neutral as we have at the moment. You are young, and will be the public face of this mission, Captain Carrillo. There is a news crew on its way already which you’ll speak with, as mission commander.”

Carrillo knew that she was not the mission’s commander, but was just being put into the spotlight since Radak (perhaps correctly) thought that Captain Aike was too brisk and too anti-Cardassian and he himself was too… well whatever his excuse for not stepping forward was. It was not exactly a lie from the Vulcan, simply a much needed deception.

“We’ll have Commander Attwell from the Falcon join you along with Commander Chehrush Dvap from the USS West Covina,” Radak said, adding, “You also have a diplomatic officer who will be helpful.”

Captain Aike grinned, seemingly happy to get out of playing nice with Cardassians.

“Do not think you are getting away that easy. You will host the Prime Minister of Debelius IV the next night. Your history with the Cardassians will come in useful, assuring the population that the Federation looks after its colonies,” Radak said. He regarded the two captains, neither of them seemed happy, but it was not his worry how they emotionally processed their orders. Since stepping back from running a ship, he had come to think of subordinates like tools, a means to an end. He wanted to protect the Federation and Captains Carrillo and Aike were the tools he had been given to work with.

—- Millennium Bar, USS Falcon —-

“The only thing worse than a Vulcan is one who’s dying and doesn’t care about how he’s perceived,” complained Captain Paul Aike as he poured two glasses of bourbon. 

The bar was old, and looked like it had been lovingly hand made. Installed before the war with the Dominion it had survived the refit to Excelsior II status, and had been the private drinking area of several captains. It was a place Aike knew that Radak would never chase them, where they could grouse in peace.

Carrillo was not much of a drinker, but took the glass anyway. The liquid burned her throat. It was clear that Aike came from a time when captains were different than they were now, where they were Lords and Sovereigns of their ships, and not simply facilitators the way it seemed that they were these days. All of her orders had come straight from Starfleet Command and she had not had the discretion of a five-year mission or an extended period to do things her way. Maybe it was a result of Frontier Day, and Starfleet losing control of so many crews, or maybe it was something that came with time, but the days of Starfleet just handing someone a ship and telling them to go out and explore for the next five years seemed to be over.

“You really hate the Cardassians?” Carrillo asked. She didn’t exactly hate anyone. The closest she came was probably the Borg who had taken control of most of her crew including her younger brother, and she’d been forced to kill him. But hating the Borg was like hating earthquakes or tornadoes, it was a natural disaster and hard to make it be something less abstract.

Aike glanced out the space port, but the Galor-class ship was not visible from their vantage point. “I was a Lieutenant when the Falcon joined up with the rest of the fleet to attack or free Cardassia. As much as people talk about how the Cardassians switched sides and helped up with the way, the truth was the first half they were happily killing us. We lost half our crew including our first officer, my wife. Hit by a torpedo barrage from a Galor-class ship. So yeah, I hate them. Never not going to hate them.”

“You’ve been on this ship since then?” Carrillo asked.

“My first assignment out of the Academy. Operations Officer,” Aike said, “Had pretty much every job on the ship at one time of another. The Falcon’s my life. I’ve lost everyone and everything else.”

He gestured to Carrillo, “You know those Hume kids. I took one from you as my Security Chief, and the other is co-running this whole Selene Division. Their father was a Lieutenant on the Falcon too, a tactical officer. Died early on in the war. As big as you think the universe is, it has a habit of shrinking.”

Carrillo finished her glass and stood, “Well I have a party to plan. I should get back to my ship.”

Aike nodded, “I’ll get back to wallowing.”

“If that makes you happy,” she said and left the bar.

—- Senior Staff’s Observation Lounge ‘Delphi’, USS Selene —-

Party planning had not been something that Lieutenant Pierre Lambert had studied when he had attended the Academy. Back then the idea of breaking bread with your former enemies was unheard of. Both the Klingons and Romulans were threats and the Cardassians did not even make the top ten or things they were worried about. Now though this was a new universe, no longer as unexplored as the one that his contemporaries had ventured into to seek out new life and new civilizations. Now they were making nice with enemies that had once had their boots poised on the Federations’ collective throats. He had missed the Cardassian/Federation war and the Dominion War, so this was new ground for him. Had he known why his wife had been put in charge of working with the Cardassians was because she was too young to have fought them, then he might have found the irony in the fact that his inadvertent time travel made him too old to have fought them.

Lieutenant Diya Acharya helped with the positioning of the tables. The Selene’s Chief Diplomatic Officer (also only Diplomatic Officer) understood enough about Cardassians to know how to make things look presentable to the visitors. 

“So Kirk didn’t serve on the Excelsior but some of his crew did?” Lambert asked. People in 2401 seemed obsessed with Kirk and given that he did not even know of the man, who was his contemporary he made it a point of trying to find out everything he could about him given that many modern day people just assumed that he knew the captain of a totally different ship.

Acharya nodded, “He was the helmsman, Sulu entered up a captain of the first Excelsior.”

“And this was the one that was supposed to do transwarp?” Lambert asked as he studied the layout of the table.

“It never worked for it, Starfleet is still working on it,” Acharya said, “But the class ended up being popular. The USS Falcon is one of the last ones made but they’ve been in service over a hundred years. It got a refit when Starfleet designed the Excelsior II-class.”
“Funny looking ship,” Lambert said.
Acharya shook her head, “I like the design. I grew up loving Excelsiors.”
“Spoken like someone one about to be transferred,” Lambert teased.

“Makes more sense, your wife is capable enough on first contact missions. This sort of bread and butter relationship building is more an Excelsior II’s job,” Acharya explained.

Three hours later after a shave and a change Lambert was back there, and greeting their Cardassian guests. The head of the ‘delegation’ was Gul Duec Leyit a slender and severe man in his mid-sixties. Starfleet Intelligence had informed them that he was a veteran of the Dominion War, and he was clearly a man who had seen combat. His eyes seemed to take in all of the Federation ship as he was shown to the Officer’s Lounge.

“It is a pity,” Gul Duec Leyit said slowly, “I was hoping to see the USS Falcon, I was in charge of ground defenses at a weapons depot it attacked.”

Captain Carrillo forced a smile, “We thought it would be more interesting for you to see one of these new Lamarr-class ships.”

“That is the difference between humans and Cardassians, humans love ships. It is a tool, a means to an end,” Leyit said, “I care little for your shiny ship used for exploring. You can scan further, and faster. Congratulations, the Klingons will devour you for breakfast just as quickly.”

A popular lie told to the Cardassians to get them to fight the Klingons was that the Klingons ate children and civilians. Leyit was old enough to know better but had either bough the propaganda or chosen to believe it.

He was followed by a younger woman, who still seemed older than Carrillo’s crew. Reports called her Dal Sina Bill, who might have been in the Cardassian equivalent of the Academy when the war had been lost. She remained silent, either nervous or simply used to her superior doing most of the talking.

Commander Chehrush Dvap was the only one who did not seem to be displeased with the proceedings. The Tellarite simply seemed pleased to have been included, and had that annoying doctorly habit of always being upbeat even when the prognosis was dire. 

“Let’s sit,” Lieutenant Lambert suggested, gesturing to the long table that he had set for the gathering.

“Hmm, yes let us sit,” Gul Leyit agreed. He regarded the captain and asked, “So why is it you invited us, to insist we leave?”

Carrillo sat as everyone else did, “No, simply to thank you for your attention to this matter and for helping our colony. No geo-politics at play.”

Leyit cast a glance at his Dal and smiled, “There is always geo-politics at play. And you are welcome, for finding your lost colony that you’ve let fall into a state of disrepair.”

Carrillo nodded, “It’s true, we haven’t been as attentive to these border colonies as we should be. However I think three starships in orbit is a sign of how important they still are to us.”

The balancing act that Carrillo knew she had to pull off was tough. She had to be thankful of the help, but also let the Cardassians know that this was not going to change anything in regards to territory, deliver a message of strength, and finally try to figure out what else they might be there for.

“Well if it’s too troublesome, perhaps we could extend our protection. It would certainly help to deal with your terrorist problem,” Leyit said.

Carrillo glanced at Acharya who had remained silent for most of the meeting, beyond introductions. They shared a look clearly the New Maquis was at least part of why they were there. A good look at a potential Maquis base.

“Well I came because I’ll take any chance to eat non-replicated food. I hear your chefs are particularly good,” said Commander Dvap. He looked at them all smiling, “Do you humans still have chicken wings?”

“Humans have wings?” Leyit asked, genuinely puzzled.

Carrillo mostly existed on replicator food and had not taken advantage of the Selene’s cooks, or mess hall. She looked surprised at the abrupt turn that the conversation had taken but managed to smile, more genuinely this time, “No it’s a small animal from earth a bird. We eat its wings. Lieutenant Acharya please make sure we’re serving some chicken wings for the Commander.”

The rest of the meal was uneventful. Gel Leyit made stern pronouncements on how ineffectively the Federation was administering its colonies and how grateful they should be for Cardassian help. The Starfleet personal mostly smiled and said some variation of ‘interesting point let’s agree to disagree’ except for Commander Dvap who mainly talked about the food.

Throughout the entire thing Dal Sina Bill said nothing, merely remained silent and regarded everything quietly.

Once the Cardassians had returned to their ship the crew could relax. Loosening the collar of her dress uniform Captain Olivia Carrillo sprawled in one of the chairs, “Well that was fun.”

“I wonder why he even brought Dal Sina Bill with him,” Acharya said sitting down as well.
Commander Dvap reached for another chicken wing, “He didn’t, she was his handler.”

Carrillo glanced at him, it was the first useful thing he had said all night, “What do you mean?”

“The Obsidian Order or whatever it’s now after the Dominion. She’s to keep him in line, Cardassians value authority, but they also don’t trust anyone. They’re basically Klingons and Romulans mushed together. So anyway she’ll be there to make sure he doesn’t go off book, he’s probably said or done something that’s earned him a handler. Don’t you know your earth history, the Soviet KGB would have at least one officer on all major vessels to ensure loyalty,” he said.

Carrillo blinked, and Dvap smiled, “I’m not as dumb as I pretend to be. I kept the conversation light and kept everyone focused on the food. In an operating room you sometimes do that, keep the nurses and support staff light and keep everyone focused without being worried. Anyway, do you think the staff have smores? Have you had those?”