Atlantis had returned to orbit barely an hour ago. They’d lost communications with the Tizona shortly after, Captain Santisteban’s last transmission indicating she’d be back as soon as she could starting to feel like an ill omen.

The only solace so far being that sensors had caught one of the small ship’s pursuers limping away at barely one quarter impulse, and the fighters that had been escorting the two ships that Atlantis had savaged had actually leapt to warp in that direction, disappearing in the rings of ice and radiation.

“Captain Santisteban’s combat record,” Stirling Fightmaster said, setting a padd down on Tikva’s ready room desk, alongside a cup of tea that was barely sipped at and going cold.

Tikva took her eyes off the reports on her computer, trying to assimilate raw data that she really should be leaving to her senior officers, or junior officers for that matter. Blinking at the padd offered no insight, Stirling’s emotions offered nothing either. She’d always associated emotional states with flavour and his was a consistently mild, perfectly functional and uninspiring bland cheese.

Save for when a certain science officer was around, then his emotions flared to life.

“Why?” she finally got around to asking of her yeoman after the universe failed to spontaneously grant her an epiphany. “And didn’t I tell you to report in with Ch’tkk’va since they’re wanting to get the hazard teams ready?”

“I just stepped in,” he answered, pointing at a padd on the far side of her desk. “Lieutenant Ch’tkk’va’s readiness report of all security teams.” Collecting the cup of tea and stepping over to the replicator to refresh it, he continued. “You had that concerned look on your face, ma’am, so I thought I’d pull up Captain Santisteban’s records for you. It makes for some interesting reading.”

Snatching the padd, she activated it and starting scrolling through, catching the highlights from whoever had compiled the dossier back at Command. Lots of small ship action, ranging from piracy raids, smuggling bust ups, even a tussle with some Klingon raiders late last year. And in each and every one of them she’d been outnumbered and outgunned, but walked away.

It read like someone who had been given a small ship, told she was on patrol duty, then shuffled off to the border to be out of someone’s hair, but instead of falling into a rut like MacIntyre had before she’d kicked him in the backside, Sofia Santisteban had landed right where she wanted to be. On the border, making a difference in people’s lives by chasing at bad guys.

Tikva kept flicking through the report, having to go back and reread a few sections. “It’s like someone gave her a knife to guard the village and she’s gone running off chasing down dragons.” Her voice was a little thing, the inner monologue barely escaping.

“Who?”

The question didn’t come from Stirling, but Adelinde Ganztmann, standing before her desk, hands clasped behind her back. Ever the on duty professional. How long had she been there? The chronometer on her desk wouldn’t help, but the cup of tea betrayed the missing time. Half a cup, not steaming or convecting.

We really should put a bell on Stirling so we know when he comes and goes.

Please, the cat back home figured out how to stop its bell, Stirling will figure it out.

“Sofia Santisteban,” Tikva said, setting the padd down and giving it a push towards Adelinde. “Stirling gave me her combat record to set me at ease since we lost contact.”

“Has it worked?”

“No,” Tikva admitted. “Kinda.” She leaned back in her chair, waving Adelinde to sit. “She’s got chops, I can see that. And we’d see the detonation of a warp core if Tizona was destroyed, so they have to still be out there.”

Adelinde looked like she was going to say something, stopped herself short, taking a moment more to think, then continued. “Repair teams have fixed the phaser array I thought was knocked out. Turns out it was a damaged ODN run.”

“As much as we learned, I hate to think what they learned about us for the next round.” Tikva waved Adelinde to sit, waiting for the other woman to do so before continuing. “Shield modifications?”

“Velan assigned a couple of engineers to go over the sensor readings with help from a few of Camargo’s people. Unfortunately, we were a bit busy for detailed scans of their weapon system to get a good bead.” Adelinde smiled ever so slightly, the glow of her emotions taking on a sharp, spicy note. “And while they may have learned some things about us, that battlecruiser would have been too far for good reads and those cruisers were far, far too busy getting a firsthand demonstration of our weapon systems to take specific notes on.”

“Proud of yourself?” Tikva asked, nodding quickly with Adelinde. “Good. Damn fine work. Maybe a little overkill blowing that nacelle off, though.”

“I thought the Vaadwaur could do with a clear message.”

“Atlantis isn’t just for show?” Tikva asked.

“She’s the biggest knife fighter in the system,” Adelinde corrected. “Lieutenant Tabaahaa’s piloting was superb.”

“T’Val called it ‘a fine demonstration of starship manoeuvring’.”

Adelinde shook her head, a grin on her face. “So emotive.”

“I know, right?”

Tikva sighed, taking a moment, just staring at Adelinde, before offering her a wink. “We should get back to work.”

“We should,” Adelinde said, rising to her feet. “Can I offer some advice to the captain of the ship?”

“Always, Lieutenant Commander.”

Adelinde straightened her tunic, clasped her hands behind her back, then nodded her head ever so slightly. “Take a walk. We’ve had a scrap; we’re gearing up for a fight. The crew would benefit from seeing their captain.”

“They wouldn’t benefit from seeing me if my leg gave out while walking the halls,” Tikva countered.

They’d get a laugh out of it!

No, they wouldn’t. Ill omen and all that.

Yeah, not everyone is into slapstick humour.

We aren’t into slapstick humour.

Oh yeah…

“It takes five seconds with a tricorder to reset, now we know what we’re doing. Take Lieutenant Fightmaster, perform a personal inspection of the ship. It’ll do the crew good; it’ll do you good.”

“It’s a doomed captain who surveys their ship before a fight.”

Adelinde shook her head. “Pardon, Fleet Captain, but that’s an excuse.” She leaned forward just a touch, lowering her voice as well. “Besides, history tends to forget the little morale boosting walks before a victory. So focused on the victory itself. Delivered by a crew with high spirits.”

Tikva shook her head, holding her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Fine, I’ll go for a walk and show my face. But I’m not doing deck fourteen. Not after last time.”

Adelinde’s shoulders shrugged in understanding. “Did anyone ever figure out how the speed controller on Stubby got removed?”

“No.” Tikva rose to her own feet, hands planted on her desk as she did so. “No, we did not. Why do we still have that stupid cleaner bot, anyway? We should just scrap it.”

“Because it’s a totem for the crew. Like the keys for the bridge crew.”

“I’ll never understand why lower deckers latch onto the stupidest of things.” Tikva circled her desk, heading for the door to the bridge, Adelinde following her. “Right, I’m going to do this walk now, before anything else happens.”