Since its inception as Starfleet’s forward position inside the Thormar Expanse, Deep Space 47 had in its short lifespan transformed from an out-of-the-box starbase, stark and barren, into an emerging little hub of commerce and cultural exchange. It was still mostly anchored around supporting Starfleet’s mission, but there was clearly activity taking place with no regard to that mission of exploration into previously difficult-to-access territory. It was no small comfort to those in charge that the people who inhabited the station now came out of choice rather than necessity, DS47 was quickly transitioning from a statement by Starfleet to an integral part of life in the Expanse. The Federation was here to stay and they were here with an open hand. 

“Noble should be finished with her resupply efforts the day after tomorrow and be ready to set sail once more.” Commodore Alexandra Sudari-Kravchik turned her back on the balcony of the task force office that looked down on the Galleria and stepped back inside, the sliding glass doors staying open and giving the faint impression of the offices being located on a planet somewhere and not high up on a space station. “Have there been any changes in the other ships of the task force since the end of the Borg crisis?”

“Unfortunately Gar’rath hit a dead end with the Chimerium thieves, despite a shuttle mission that makes for worrying reading and a decidedly shifty Bolian.” The Bajoran XO lifted the tall glass mug to his mouth, the large ice cubes clinking pleasantly over the muted chatter from beneath the balcony. “He did however manage to acquire some assets that might reveal some intel. They should be arriving at Gateway Station…” He looked at the antique chronometer on his wrists as he took a sip, the metallic hands clicking inexorably forward, “…now.” He nodded slightly as the wristwatch silently struck the hour. “Gar wasn’t particularly clear about how helpful they were feeling but I have no doubt a few well-placed snarls will be involved.” The man stifled a laugh at the thought of the towering Gorn Captain as he pushed his black rimmed glasses back up his nose. 

“And then there’s Helios, I’m hoping that this trip out to Bryntail Base to kiss some babies and shake some hands might help them move on from the incident with Unimatrix Zero.” A moment of reflection hung at the end of his sentence, disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “Tanek has confirmed our newest ‘diplomat’ from the Cardassian Union has been nothing but polite and cordial.” The slightest quiver of a raised eyebrow from the commodore caused him to hold his hands up in mock protest “I am trying very hard not to be suspicious.”

“Republic is still within Cardassian territory pursuing a matter important to Starfleet Intelligence. We should inform our captains that Captain MacIntyre is available to assist in matters along the border if required. He and his XO have been building bridges with certain members of Central Command that may prove useful, especially for the likes of Captain Tanek.” Sudari-Kravchik was slowly doing a loop of the office, nominally only used when she was in residence aboard the station. “And if any of our ships are heading deep into the Expanse, Captain Theodoras will be available. It would seem she intends to keep Atlantis as far from here as possible.”

“I’ll let everyone know that Tikva is nearby and looking for something to keep her clear of the Intel office. Maybe she wants to go chat up some miners with Tanek?” Wyll leaned toward the Commodore conspiratorially as she neared the desk in her slow perpetual loops, “Did you know there’s a rumour going round that Admiral Beckett has a picture of her on a dart board hung behind his office door.” He smiled at the thought of newly minted Ensigns he had overheard chattering in the corner of Beans’d It. “I half suspect the Admiral started the rumour himself.” Varen chewed his cheek as his focus shifted out beyond the Galleria’s tall windows, the rolling mass of the distant Rolor nebula visible to one side, the gateway to a new frontier, whilst the tumultuous orange storm of the Badlands hung just out of the corner of sight. Future and past all in one glorious vista. “I am worried we might have to call on captains like Tikva and MacIntyre to step up again all too soon. The Expanse is delicate at the best of times, doubly so with Starfleet’s recent troubles. We’ll need every faithful hand at the mast.”

“Rumours regarding Admiral Beckett you would do well to either ignore or quash when you hear them,” Sudar-Kravchik said. Her tone was level and bland as always, well-practised and controlled, but an element of irritation could be seen in her eyes. “As would rumours pertaining to any of our officers.” She let that sink in for a moment, then turned back to regard the modern rendition of a Spartan helmet that had adorned the offices when she’d first taken command of Task Force 47. “We must not forget the other ships under our command. Dragon, Sojourner and Cardiff are all exemplary vessels. I look forward to hearing from their captains soon enough.”

“We also have a new ship assigned to the task force.” Sudari-Kravchik had finally circled back around to her desk, picking up a padd, reviewing it momentarily and then handing it over to her executive officer. “USS Vallejo. California-class. I am certain we can find something…interesting for them, yes?”

Varen thumbed the thin screen, causing the small holographic display embedded in the desk to spring to life, projecting a scrolling newsfeed from the Thomar Expanse, its slow rolling bullet points highlighting the busy nature of the region. “Interesting? I can always find something interesting.” The man squinted as he examined the growing list of trouble spots. “I’ve got reports of Breen scavengers out near the Tassel asteroid field, they’re hunting space mushrooms?” He shrugged at the eternal mystery that was the Breen Confederacy. “Oh! This one is good, there’s a rogue Ferengi trader on Krinnal base selling moon dust as an aphrodisiac, that one came in as an anonymous tip… obviously.”. He turned dramatically to the Commodore as she leant back in her seat, “Do you know how good Captain Day is with pronouncing Tzenkethi?”

“Perhaps we can allow Captain Day to establish herself in the region with some more routine work before subjecting her to being ignored by the Tzenkethi.” And in that statement, Sudari-Kravchik displayed more emotion than she had all meeting – annoyance. “After the recent crises I fear we might end up with a Coalition that feels it can get away with settling a few debts with the Breen Confederacy. And the Breen are likely to have elements of their own society looking for easy wins as well to cement any bids for power.”

“It certainly is a busy party.” Varen thought back to the map that hung in his own office, a gift from some dignitary to the then XO when 47 was first built. The glowing green spectre of the Confederacy hung menacingly over the entire region whilst the familiar Tan of the Cardassian Union peeked out from the bottom of the frame; the two galactic powers squeezing the aggressively territorial Tzenkethi Coalition. In large black letters someone had scrawled ‘You are here’ over a blue dot in the centre of the jostling powers, a year later more small blue dots had appeared across the map, reminders of Federation diplomatic victories. “I hope we have enough chairs when the music stops, or things might get interesting….” 

“May we live in interesting times,” the Commodore said. “Though after the last few months, I am sure everyone would prefer quieter times for a while, yes?”

“Quiet is overrated.” he stood from the chair with a smile, swinging the empty glass from his fingers. As the clinking of glasses and low hum of chatter floated past the balcony he saw a familiar vision in the Commodore’s stoic visage, one he had witnessed a thousand times as he played in the corner of the Provisional Government’s offices on Bajor. A woman, acutely aware of the load show bore on her shoulders; the weight of legacy, the weight of expectation, the weight of the future. As the small child in him looked out on a woman who had been handed responsibility for ushering in a better future, he found himself desperate to make her smile like he had his mother. 

“You know, it reminds me of a joke I heard on 72. How many ears did Captain Kirk have?” He took a step into the open doorway, readying to make a quick exit.  “3. A right ear, A left ear. And a final frontier.” Varen turned quickly and rushed off to admonish some ensigns, hopeful he might have made the day a little brighter.