“Final report on the colony.”  Commander Park slumped into the chair to the right of her captain, annoyed.  They’d done everything that had been asked of them.  They had gone above and beyond what had been expected.  She groused, “They didn’t even give a thank you.”

Walton read through the PADD, “As I seem to have to continue to remind you and a few others – the Federation hasn’t been the best of friends to these colonies.  It doesn’t help we’re riding around in the ‘broken promise’ starship class.  There’s a lot of work to be done around here, and it will take time.  Patience is the name of this game.”  She felt the same annoyance that her executive officer expressed – she was simply putting it aside for the moment.  They had a job to do.

“Captain, I’m getting an odd reading.” Thasaz stared at the readings at her science station. “I’m detecting a surge in energy and interference at the same time.”  The ship began to shake slightly. “Gravimetric distortions increasing!”

Wren hit the ship-wide channel, “All hands, secure all stations.  Red alert!”  Everyone belted into their station and those who were standing scrambled to find a place to secure themselves safely. The deck’s slight shaking became jarring, and the Obena class starship stumbled through the unraveling phenomena.

Thasaz called out reports as it continued, “Helm unresponsive, maneuvering thrusters have failed…all systems are overloading, Captain!  Losing sensors.”

The deck continued to shake as the Dragonfly buffeted against the waves, going further into what the screen showed as an opening of some kind.  Walton gripped the arms of her chair, “All hands, hold on!”

In the blink of an eye, the Dragonfly was there…and then it wasn’t.  The aperture closed and vanished, and the sector returned to its relative silence.

“We’re slowing down!” Thasaz could only estimate what the limited sensor systems were telling her.  She watched as Castillo at the helm tapped at her console, unable to effect any change in their course.  The ship continued shaking, and mild damage reports were collected at operations.  “Standby – energy surge.”  Then the Dragonfly flashed back into space and time they were used to, and whatever had brought them here had vanished.  The lights of the bridge flickered briefly before returning to normal.

Wren waited to see if the deck would return to shaking, but it remained calm.  She unclipped her strap and stood, “Report?”

Ensign Castillo was first at the helm. “Navigation sensors are having a hard time placing our location relative to where we were.”  She reworked the console, but despite her best efforts, the display errored out: “The computer is unable to verify our current location.”

Walton resisted the urge to ball her fists, “Thasaz?”

The Romulan Science Chief was equally flummoxed, “We’re…somewhere, but local stars in comparison to our maps…it’s switching to long-range sensors to see what it can recognize.”  She tapped at the console, “As for whatever that was…computer’s not agreeing on what that was either.”  She put the limited sensor scans they had managed to get in transition on the screen, “I’m going to have to get the team working on this, Captain – I’m not sure where we are or how we got here.”

Wren remained impassive and continued down the line, “Ensign Reede – anything out there talking or listening?”

Oscar’s hair on the back of his neck started sticking up as he found similar results to that of his fellow officers, “I’m getting snippets of signals that don’t make sense or are more complex than we’ve seen before.  Nothing consistent – not a communication buoy or a starship in range.  I’ll get the team working on it, sir.”  He turned back to his station, anxiety chattering at the edges of his mind.

Walton gave in and balled her fists as she considered what had just happened.  Whatever was next, they would be following a different set of rules than if this had happened before Voyager’s journey.  “I need full readiness reports from all department heads within the hour.”  She tapped out messages to Park and Hargraves – bridge, now.  She walked to the station beside Thasaz and sat down, “Show me.”

Thasaz was shaking her head even before the captain had arrived.  She pointed to the star maps, “We’ve got the most updated maps, and nothing is pinging.  I have to use the long-range suite to reach out there to see what it can see…but wherever we are – it’s not any of the quadrants we’re familiar with.” She pointed out navigational points that were used to orient the sensors based on where they were.  “I don’t have any of them – not even something similar.”  A quiet alarm beeped as the screen glowed yellow, “Wait, we’ve got something on long-range – it’s really out there.” She tapped at the console as the bridge around them went silent, listening carefully as Thasaz worked through the readings.  A second later, she gasped and sat back in her chair, “Captain, we’re a long way from home.”  She pointed at the screen, “The system was able to find a distant star in this system that resembles one in the Gamma Quadrant…but according to this…it’s four years away at maximum warp.”

Walton stared at the screen.  She knew better than to ask Thasaz to check again, and the words died in her throat.  She turned at the sound of the turbolift doors as Commanders Park and Hargraves stepped onto the bridge.  They both look confused and alarmed at the sight of Walton sitting beside Thasaz.  Wren stood, “Commander Park – I ordered readiness reports in an hour from all department heads – I need you to make your way to each department for a visual inspection – Commander Hargraves will assist you.” She revealed what had been discovered just moments ago.  Park clamped her mouth shut to avoid words that would get her into trouble.

Hargraves just whistled a low, sad sound, “I know we’re in it when you start by using our ranks and last names.  We’re on it, Captain.  Keep us updated.”  He pulled Park with him back to the turbolift, her face of shock locked in place as the doors closed.

Wren turned to the bridge crew, who had all turned in their chairs to watch her.  She cleared her throat, “One step at a time – we know generally where we are…but there’s a lot of work to be done to figure out how we got here.  Let’s all start there – there’s an answer out here somewhere.  One step at a time.”  She looked each of them in the eye, “We set the tone up here.  The rest of our crew will be asking us, listening to us…we set the tone for what happens next.”  Each of them nodded, understanding their captain clearly.  Panic or rumors would do nobody any good at the moment.  They were alone in an undiscovered part of the universe.

They would have to get out of here together.
 

“There, that there!”  One of the science ensigns pointed at the main holo display screen in the center of the science department office as Thasaz froze the sensor reading.  He stood and walked up to the three-dimensional reading, “This looks familiar – in the Academy, we studied the Bajoran Wormhole and how it operates.  Certain signals, readings, and frequencies are observed on a regular basis.  That’s one of them.”  He sent his research to the science chief’s PADD, and she skimmed through the details.

She confirmed it as she input the details for the ongoing display.  The computer marked several more items green, “He’s right – taking the scattered readings that we had, we’re able to identify positively at least four variables…out of one hundred and sixteen.”  Thasaz held up her hand for silence, and the science team quieted down.  “Whatever it is we’re dealing with is something we haven’t seen before, and we need to work to give it a name.  Once more variables are identified, we can start putting some stronger theories to the captain and senior staff.”  She glanced at the clock on the wall as it clicked forward, “Let’s take a dinner break – you’ve got an hour.”

The room cleared out, and Thasaz went to work on collecting more data and updating the display.  There were unusual connections to familiar phenomena that would explain, at a base level, what had happened to the Dragonfly.  The mystery remained as to the how, the where, and the why.  She studied the results so far – it was a wormhole, but it wasn’t.  It was a portal, but it wasn’t.  It was an opening, but it had swung open without warning and had closed just as fast. Thasaz thought back to the previous assignment she had been on before she’d been introduced to Captain Harris and suddenly found herself in a Starfleet uniform.  She’d spent long hours studying the various nebulas in that sector of space for years.  Nothing had come close to this curiosity. She heard the door slide open but kept her eye on the display as she manipulated some data points.  There had to be something in here to sink her hands into.

“Commander Thasaz.”  

She turned at the only voice older than her on the Dragonfly.  “Chief Petty Officer Wyatt.  What brings you up to the upper decks?”  She sorted a few more data points.  

He walked around the display, eyes searching.  “A consolation prize, commander.  We didn’t tear through into the other side of the mirror universe or fall into another reality.”

Thasaz let a dry chortle be her opening answer.  The story of his journey into the mirror universe had been enough to put any desire to experience it herself.  She continued, “We’re still four years from home.  Or more accurately, three years, nine months, twenty-six days, and four hours.”  She finished her work and saved the display, “You don’t seem concerned with our current predicament, Master Chief.”

It was Wyatt’s turn to chuckle, “If I was concerned about every major threat that I faced with this crew or any of the others – I’d have worried myself to death.  You live this long, you get used to things just…going wrong.”  He walked around the holographic display again, “You don’t have any ideas on what this could be?”  She gave him a firm shake of her head.  He answered her look of curiosity, “I don’t know either…and that bothers me.”  Knowledge was power, which had been a lifelong motto for him, and at that moment, he didn’t have any power.

Thasaz slid into a chair, “Not much bothers you, Henry.”

He sat in the one opposite her, “Like I said – you live this long.  Whatever this is, it’s new to me.  There’s a few readings I can help you with.”  He stood and manipulated the remaining pool of variables, “This surge of readings is similar to the acceleration of a manually created porthole – I remember those numbers in the early days of research and development.”  The ten variable data points were grouped and changed from red to green outlines.  “This is starting to feel like a new type of wormhole…but then you have that and this,” he pointed to conflicting data points and conclusions that argued directly against a wormhole or even the existence of one within the remaining data.  “It makes no damn sense.”

She sighed, “I’ve been debating starting all over.  Before landing here, we didn’t get complete data points, variables, or scans.  Incomplete data is a scientist’s nightmare.  We could come to a conclusion and bring out a cataclysmic end-of-the-universe scenario.  The Lost Fleet burst back on the scene because some crazy scientist was trying to prove something.  Instead, we ended up at war trying to put them back in their…wait a second.” Thasaz picked up her PADD, “Henry, you’re a genius.”  She tapped at the device, her mind swirling with new ideas, “We could try and recreate the phenomena the way they did with The Lost Fleet event.”  

He raised a hand in protest, “You did just get done saying something about a ‘cataclysmic end-of-the-universe scenario,’ – incomplete data and all that.”

She rolled her eyes, a sarcastic tone coating her words, “There’s a difference. I’m not a crazed scientist.”

Wyatt held his tongue.

“Every scenario ended in system destruction.”  Thasaz sat at the briefing room table as she walked the senior staff through her latest report. The holographic display at the front of the room displayed each run with red letters confirming the failure.  “We’re still missing correlation with 50 data points.”  She turned to the table, “We’re working to scan the area for any readings connected to this anomaly.”

Walton tapped her fingers gently on the table.  They were no closer to home.  Answers were creating questions.  When she was younger, she’d wondered, as a fascination, what it would be like to be on the Voyager during their experience.  It wasn’t fascinating anymore.  It was turning into a nightmare.  “We will be underway within the hour.  Discuss with your teams – let’s work on finding a way home.”  The staff filed out, but Thasaz remained in her seat.  Walton looked up as the door closed, leaving them alone.  “Commander?”

“This is beyond weird, Captain.  It’s broken the odd meter.  I’m running out of words to explain what’s happened to us.”  She leaned forward, her hands nervously clenching and unclenching, “I’ve been studying science for much of my life – Romulan, Federation – I’ve seen plenty.”  She locked eyes with her CO, “I don’t know what this is.”

Wren felt the weight of her science chief’s confession from across the table.  She admitted, “I don’t either, commander.  The Dragonfly has some of the most complex science equipment around…and we’re trying to discover more about an undiscovered phenomenon that isn’t willing to give us the necessary answers. It’s frustrating.”

Thasaz agreed, “That’s putting it mildly, sir.”

Walton felt a thin smile tug at her lips, “We’re all going to find our way to where you’re at, commander.  As everyone starts to grasp our reality, we will need to find a way to work on this together…and find ways to resist the urge to give over to the panic, fear, and anxiety that’s knocking at the door.”  

Suddenly, the klaxons rang as the lights flickered to the customary red, the voice of Commander Parks shouting from the badge of the CO, “Captain to the bridge!”

It took them thirty seconds to run down the corridor, take the turbolift up to deck one, and enter the bridge where Walton accepted the center chair from her executive officer, “Report.”

Park spoke as Thasaz replaced the science officer at her station: “We detected a surge of tachyon readings along with plenty of others—sensor readings are copies of our previous data points. We went into full reverse to put some distance between us.  It’s reading as an unknown phenomenon, but it hasn’t closed.  It’s been open for one minute.”

Walton stared at the screen.  It was unlike anything she’d seen.  She was both fascinated and horrified by it.  “Thasaz?”

“Getting complete data points now, sir. It’s a…opening of some kind.”  She tapped at the console, tasking her team with taking some of the workload to identify what they were seeing while she scanned the screens in front of her, “It’s unstable – the power levels are modulating back and forth…there’s a connecting point at the end.”  She turned to Wren, “Permission to launch a probe?”

“Do it.  Helm – be ready to get us out of here at warp speed.”  Prentice began to search for a suitable course on the galaxy map he’d been piecing together with his short and long-range sensors.

Thasaz launched the probe and immediately turned to her console, “Approaching the opening…lots of gravimetric waves, spikes in tachyon waves – the probe is…being pulled in!”  She frowned, “The opening appears to have some kind of tractor element or a gravity well that automatically reaches out to pull whatever is there in…acting like a black hole.”  She watched the data continue to feed, “The inside of the opening is stable – the probe reports no gravimetric effect.  It’s nearing an endpoint.”  She tapped at the console and brought up the video transmission as the probe fell into an empty sector of space.  “Sourcing location…”  Thasaz waited for the navigational computer and the probe’s readings to agree where it had ended up.  She felt her frown return, “Results showing…Delta Quadrant – but on the far end.”  A beep alerted her, “The opening is growing more unstable…power levels fracturing!”  They watched as the opening shrank until it blinked out of existence.  Silence fell on the bridge.

Walton asked, her voice strained, “Did we get a complete data set?”

The science chief felt some relief as the data stream scrolled over her screens, “We have a 99% complete data set.  Much more than we had before, captain.”  The relief she felt washed over the rest of the bridge crew, their posture relaxing.

Wren complimented Thsaz, “Good work, commander.  Get your team working on all of it.”

“That’s not good.”  Commander Park remarked as she stood near the warp core with the chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Miados.  The XO had just been given the report on the state of engineering with one glaring issue.

Miados agreed, “Somehow, in the journey through whatever it was, the core got…jostled?  Shaken up?  I’m still not sure.  The impact is that we’re going to have to drop our warp capability to the middle range until we can get her stabilized and repaired.”  She stared at her warp core, still mystified, “It is downright strange.  As a precaution, I did a full diagnostic of the ship, and I’ve got my people doing a bow-to-stern inspection – nothing else of note has come up.”

Park wondered what the inspection would reveal. Whatever they had traveled through was an unknown phenomenon, and unknown things tended to have unintended effects on ships and crew.  “Keep me updated, Chief.  How’s your deputy holding up?”

Miados felt her symbiont kick, “Tell her the truth.”  For her part, Shealynn did, “You’re asking about how she’s handling the specter of Pandora still hanging over her.”  Park answered with a shocked nod.  Miados grinned.  Subtly sucked.  She and Miados had always agreed on that, at least.  She glanced across the room at the office where her deputy was working on shift schedules, studiously considering requests and conflicts.  “She’s a hard worker, Commander.  She’s dedicated and focused.  She doesn’t let the distractions get to her.”  She allowed,  “It hasn’t been easy.  Crawford shared that she feels afraid every so often but that she feels safe with us on Dragonfly.”  Park thanked her and headed out the doors.  Miados wondered if the question was just a check-in or something more.

“Under…what?”  Thasaz sat at her desk as the nervous ensign handed over the PADD.  She read from the report, “Underspace?”  The young ensign had been voluntold by his group to take the report to Thasaz.  She’d broken the science team into groups to investigate and interrogate the massive amount of data they’d pulled from the probe before the opening had closed.  She asked him, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Ma’…sir.  It’s a little crazy, I know.  I mean, we’ve been at this for four hours, and Cadet Keiur was getting hangry, and Cadet Lita’s sarcasm took a dark turn, and I’m not good at conflict resolution, and so I got kicked ou..they made me come here, and I don’t know.”

Thasaz raised her eyebrows, her patience near a boiling point.  She asked with such force that it startled the officer,  “Ensign Rayback…do you think this is possible?”  

He clamped his mouth shut, and she watched as he searched the ceiling for an answer.  “Could I have the PADD back, ma…sir.”  She returned to him, and he scrolled through the report, muttering to himself, intermittently shaking his head.  Thasaz watched the clock, amused.  Five minutes later, he looked up, “It’s the best explanation we could come up with.  Nothing makes any sense.  We had to pull records from the Voyager mission to compare…and it’s really similar ma..sir.”

She tapped her fingers on her desk, processing the report she’d read and Rayback’s explanation.  Her science team was young and inexperienced in the nuance of deeper scientific study.  The other side of it was they were more willing to take risks and make a leap that she wouldn’t have originally made.  She’d missed it and done her share of examining Captain Janeway’s and her crew’s missions.  She stood, “Take me to your team.”

Cadet Keiur munched on a snack pack that Thasaz had thrown at her. Cadet Lita sat with her hand over her mouth, as ordered by the science chief.  She’d walked through the sprawling office and found the errant group of cadets and ensigns that she’d grouped together on a lark.  “How did you figure this out?”  A lithe hand went up, “Yes, Ensign Pierre?”

She stood, “We started with all the ideas we thought were possible.” She pointed to the holographic board where they had written a list of what Thasaz estimated to be nearly three hundred different types of phenomena.  “We took the data and eliminated the ones that didn’t fit outright.  That left us two hundred.  We took each and dug into the data even more – that took out another hundred.  Then we had to go one by one with the data sets from it and then ours…that took out fifty.”  She turned to Lita, “That’s where she came in.”

Thasaz turned her head to focus on the embarrassed cadet, “Speak.”

Cadet Lita removed her hands, “I’m a Voyager junky. Some people love Kirk, Sisko – but I couldn’t get enough of Janeway’s journey, her crew, and that ship.  Intrepid’s a hot…good looki…it’s a class of ship that I like very much.”

Thasaz narrowed her eyes, her voice turning into a hefted sledgehammer, “A shorter version.”

Lita Morrison nervously nodded, “I studied their missions backward, forwards, everything.  I memorized each encounter.  I ran the Voyager Appreciation Society at the Academy…right, shorter.  The mission where they encountered the Underspace Aperture was so fuc…so fascinating I kept tabs on it as much as possible.  I’ve been keeping a research file on it because it’s just…it’s so interesting, Commander.”

The science chief measured her explanation.  Morrison had requested to be transferred to the Dragonfly, but she’d barely passed Thasaz’s dossier review and records review, sliding through on a recommendation from an old friend.  She asked, “You think this is our answer?”

“Probably, commander.”  Morrison felt the stare from the Romulan intensify, and she clarified with an answer she knew her chief was wanting, “95%.” A raised eyebrow pushed her to answer further with a sly smile, “98.5% if we really pushed it.”

Thasaz chuckled, startling the team, “There’s the sarcasm I’ve read and heard so much about.  Your team takes first.”  The group cheered, and she quieted them with, “You’ve earned yourself an off shift.  Oh, not you, Cadet Morrison.  We’ve got the rest of the team’s results to review…and then present to Captain Walton.”

The rest of her team scrambled off, leaving her standing there, her mouth hanging open in shock, “I’m…review…Captain?”

Her science chief smiled as she motioned for her to follow her, “Welcome to the big leagues, cadet.”

“Shit.  Shit.  Oh shit.”  Cadet Lita Morrison had escaped to her quarters and was pacing her bedroom.  She was going to be presenting to the captain within the hour.  Captain Wren Walton.  Morrison had done her homework in selecting the Dragonfly for her cadet practicum assignment.  Walton had blazed a unique trail to command, which had set her apart from others in the pool that Lita had been evaluating.  The XO had been another reason – Commander Park’s record as one of imperfection – something she identified with.  She sat down on her bed, putting her head in her hands, “Oh, why did you have to go and come up with something brilliant, Lita?  What if you’re wrong?  The group isn’t going to let you live it down.”  Making friends hadn’t been her strong suit with her sarcastic wit that wandered close to the bone.  She had to pull herself together. Thasaz had instructed her to trade for a fresh uniform and meet her on the bridge.  That had been fifteen minutes ago.  

She growled at her indecision, snagging a fresh uniform, and headed into the sonic shower.  Morrison continued to mutter to herself encouragement and stared into the mirror once her shower was finished.  Her eyes searched the face in front of her, wondering how much of a lie her journey had been.  Fleeing a controlling family and a derelict brother had been the easy part.  Finding a place to land hadn’t.  “You have to do this, Lita,” she told herself.  A minute later, her fresh uniform was on, and she stood near the entrance from the shared living room to the corridor.  She was in the process of talking herself into getting through the door when it chimed, startling her.  Morrison stepped back, “Enter?” The door flew open, and she gasped at the sight of the XO, Commander Park.  “I…come in, commander.”  She stepped aside and watched as Park walked in, hands tightly grasped behind her back.

“Commander Thasaz sent me to check on you – you’re a little late to the bridge, Cadet.”  She inspected the room as she walked. The dossier for Morrison read like a traditional cadet trying to find their way in their later classes.  She spun slowly on her heels and asked, “You seem nervous, Cadet Morrison.”

“I..um…I’m…yea.”  She tried again, “Commander, I’m not very good at this kind of stuff.”   Park gave her a thousand-yard stare in response.  Morrison swallowed hard and pushed forward. “I applied to the Dragonfly because of you and Captain Walton.  My family was a mess, and I needed to find somewhere to belong…or, if you want the corny version – somewhere to call home, at least for a little bit.”  She stopped herself there, prepared for Park to dress her down.

The XO took a few steps towards her, hands still clasped behind her back. She leaned forward, “My parents gave me a choice—reform school or Starfleet.  I’ve read your dossier, Cadet.”

Morrison blurted out, “It’s pretty screwed up, isn’t it?  Story of my…ugh.”  She sighed and clamped her hand over her mouth.

Park chuckled dryly, “Thasaz told me you had a sarcastic tongue in that mouth of yours.”  She brought her hands forward and slipped a PADD out of her belt, “As for being screwed up, welcome to the Dragonfly, cadet.  Every one of us has something about our past we’d like to forget, and some of us are still struggling with it in our present.  Despite what some seem to believe, Starfleet and the Federation aren’t about being perfect.”

Lita’s mind finally connected with the XO’s earlier confession, “Wait…your parents gave you the choice of reform school or this?”

“I was not a good kid or good at being a functional young adult in their house.  I got fired from enough jobs, and they stopped shopping in the neighborhood.”  She stared into the distance, regret coating her words, “We are sometimes the worst versions of ourselves in how we treat those around us.”

“Did Starfleet help?”  These details had been obviously left out of the dossier, but it was helping her understand the commander more.  She was more complex than Lita had initially thought.

The XO scoffed, “It should have.  It took longer than most…bounced around, warned…, and I ended up with Captain Walton.  It was working with her…or find myself in remedial training and a future of desk work away from a starship.”  She blinked away a surprising rise of emotion.  “That was a hard conversation.”

The cadet asked her first question differently, “Did she help?”

“She has.  I’ve learned more from her in the last six months than I ever did from anyone else.  I’ve learned that sometimes it’s about who the teacher is more than anything.”  She looked around the living room Morrison shared with others, “You all should work on decorating this place a little, make it feel like a home.”

Lita nodded quietly, letting the moment hold before she asked, “I…it may seem impertinent to ask, but Commander Park…I’m wondering if I could…avail of your mentorship…or teaching?” 

Park considered her request.  They shared a similar history; she could identify with the young cadet’s struggles and feelings.  She knew what Walton would tell her if she asked her about the request.  There might be some gentle yelling if she didn’t accept the cadet’s ask.  “I’ll accept, with some conditions to be determined later in discussion with your chief and the captain. First – let’s get to the bridge.  Your chief and my captain are probably wondering where we are.”

“So we’re farther out than we thought.”  Captain Leopold Halsey muttered as he sat at Dragonfly’s observation lounge table.  Captain Walton and her senior staff filled the remaining tables.  The report from the Thasaz about their location and situation had just finished.  Halsey felt grateful the Dragonfly had been within range for a reunion, but only to discover they were in uncharted territory in the Gamma Quadrant.  His gratefulness had run up against a wall of desolate space.

Wren was somber in her response, “We’ve attempted to reach Starfleet Command, but without knowledge of what or who’s in the way – we don’t think that’s going to improve.”  She looked down the table towards the lone figure, “Cadet Morrison, you can shed some light on what brought us here in the first place.”  She saw the young woman’s eyes go wide at being called on.  Wren hadn’t had a chance to meet with her before this meeting.  She hoped the science cadet had something they could work with.

Lita stood awkwardly, catching the encouraging eyes of her mentor, Commander Park.  She stepped to the front of the room and activated the holographic display, hesitantly introducing the concept of Underspace.  She stumbled at a few junctures, her face reddening at the missteps, but she stumbled forward, her words finding foundation as she explained the historical connections shared with the USS Voyager and the Gamma Quadrant where they found themselves, albeit in the deepest end of the quadrant pool.  She circled the drain, explaining what was known between the Douglas and the Dragonfly data.  She controlled her breathing and ended with, “Questions?”  She wasn’t sure that was the right thing to do and felt her face warm again at the rebounding of her old friend Doubt.

Walton looked up from her PADD, where she had taken notes on the report the cadet had shared with them, “Lieutenants Fowler and Atega were able to control the Douglas and her entry into the aperture.”

Morrison wasn’t sure there was a question in the captain’s statement until her brain caught up with her ears, which caused her another round of visible embarrassment.  “Uh, ah, yes.  Chief Fowler did some research on the Voyager’s experience.  Shield modulation had some impact on mitigating potential damage due to the nature of the aperture.  There was still damage, but it was not to the level as the first time.”  Lita explained further, “Science teams on both vessels are working on searching for aperture signals and working on the data gathered.”

Wren motioned for her to sit down, “Thank you, Cadet. Good work.”  She pretended she didn’t see the involuntary wide smile that broke across the worried cadet’s face as she moved on to the next part of the agenda, “We need to find more apertures.  Getting ourselves home is the first priority – safe and sound are your guiding principles as you work with your teams.  Engineering and operations teams will cover the repair work for Douglas and Dragonfly.”  She paused, considering how to discuss the final item.  She dove straight in,  “The answer to everyone’s question is no; we have not received any communication from Dominion forces, Jem’Hadar patrols, Founders, or Vorta representatives.  Make that clear to your teams – the rumor replicators will be running overtime if they haven’t already.”  She dismissed them and waited until the door closed behind Commander Park.  Captain Halsey had stayed behind, and his eyes were distant and unflinching. She asked him, “How are you doing, Leo?”  She had watched his face throughout the meeting.  There was a lot of pressure on his shoulders.

A dry chuckle was followed by “We’re lucky to be alive, Wren.”  He remained seated at the table and stared at a point on the table, “There was a moment…where I thought the Devore had us.  I can’t imagine what that was like for our crew.”  He swallowed what felt like a tennis ball in his throat, “We got lucky with that aperture.  Our luck is going to run out.”  His face rippled with emotion as he lamented, “I told Helena I didn’t want the center chair.  Whole lotta good that did me.”

She knew his dossier history.  He had faced plenty in his career.  What she was hearing in his voice was what she was keeping locked in the back of her mind – the fear of a future lost in the Gamma Quadrant.  No way home.  No rescue.  Just the Dominion somewhere out there in the inky darkness, followed by whatever else lurked in the undiscovered reaches.  “I know you don’t believe in luck, Leo.  I don’t know if I do or I don’t…but Douglas held together and got you here.  There are old bones in that girl, and I believe they’ll keep you and your crew safe through all of this.”

Halsey shifted his stare from the table to his Division Commander and dodged her line of thinking by changing the subject, “Those apertures haven’t stayed open long enough for two ships, Wren.”  He held back his immediate feelings on who he’d rather go through.  That conversation, he hoped, would be taken up by his CO, Helena.

She absorbed what he’d said.  She’d wondered which of them was going to be the one to bring it up.  Her Latinum had been on her own lack of subtly getting there.  It amused her that she’d lost a bet with herself.  “For now.  Between Commander Thasaz, Lieutenant Fowler, and the science teams they lead, we might find a way to change that.”  She was surprised at Hasley’s pessimism.  “Aren’t you usually the optimistic one in the bunch of us captains and commanders?”

“Being just shy of four years from home will do that to a person, Wren.”  He stood, “I’m not without a small ray of hope, Wren.  It’s just hard when the darkness just keeps winning.”  Standing at attention, he left the room to return to the Douglas.

Walton sighed as the door closed.  They needed a win, and they needed a way home.  She downed her lukewarm tea as she steeled herself to step back onto the bridge.  She wasn’t going to settle for being the next Voyager.  Wren loved Janeway as much as the next captain, but she was nowhere near as patient as the venerable captain.

“Where is the operations report?”  Captain Wren Walton stood in her quarters searching the dinner table of scattered PADDs for the elusive details from her Operations chief.  The day hadn’t slowed since they’d arrived in the system twelve hours ago, ostensibly to support three neighboring colonies who had been affected by the aperture nearby.  It had turned into a diplomatic nightmare.

“I’ve got it.”  Commander Park had her own array of PADDs on a nearby desk, her hair tightly tied in the back of her head, her eyes tired from sorting through the various requests from departments and colonies.  Her feet were sore from walking from one end of the Dragonfly to the other, not to mention the work on the colonies.  “I’ll continue to remind you never to send our Chief Diplomatic Officer off on an assignment.”

Wren groaned, “I know, I know. Not my greatest moment.  I put in a call for a support team – they’re scheduled to arrive in the morning.  I think I made Charlie’s team cry this afternoon.”  She accepted the operations report PADD and transferred the data into the larger report slated to be sent to Fourth Fleet Command.

Park tapped at two of the PADDs, “They’re resilient.  Miados is getting upset at how long it takes for supplies to arrive – most of it we can manufacture here.  It’s the critical replacements.”  She frowned at a third PADD, “You see this request from Carmichael?”  Wesley Carmichael was the administrator of one of the three colonies.  Primarily a human colony, it had started feuding with the second colony on the Dragonfly’s mission – and it was primarily a Cardassian colony.

Walton walked over and read it, her frown echoing her XO’s.  “He wants that kind of fuel?  They don’t have any equipment that requires that fuel, do they?”  She returned the PADD, picked one from the table, checked it, and then dropped it.  It took her three more until she found the device she sought.  She scanned the colony details and confirmed, “Nothing here about that fuel type. Most of their equipment is either supplied by solar energy or overnight battery systems.  Miados has a reactor on order to bridge that gap.”

Park wondered, “So why do they need that type of fuel?”  She tapped at her PADD, researching the fuel type and uses.  “Well, it’s an older fuel type…used in the older colonies for vehicle operations.  Oh, that’s not good.”  She walked over to her CO, “There have been isolated incidents where it has had incendiary uses…and not in a nice way.”

Wren muttered, “And us without a diplomatic team until morning.  When would it be here if you approved it?”  A plan was forming in her mind.

“Tomorrow afternoon. What are you thinking?”  Park suddenly became nervous. They weren’t far from Starfleet, but they were far enough that things could get exciting.

“Carmichael’s angling for something.  We’ve wondered about New Maquis sources and resources since they rose from the dead.  What if he’s a supplier?”  She pulled up a history of the colony, “He’s been the administrator for the last year.  Before that, he was a support agent in the warehouse for five years.”  She looked through the additional reports on his assignment to the elevated position.  “He was appointed by…a regional representative.  Who was then exposed as a changeling later, and the original was found dead.”  Wren tossed the PADD back on the table, “Starfleet didn’t follow up because we were busy enough with our own backyard.”

“You think Carmichael’s a Changeling?”

It had been Wren’s initial thought, but she wasn’t so sure now.  “If he was, he’d have figured the game was coming to him and ran as far as he could.  He didn’t.”  She looked at his history again.  “I think our man is just a guy who’s smart enough to be dangerous. He knows the colony and how it operates – he was a good middleman who pushed the buttons and threw the switches.  My guess is without his Changeling handler – he’s a free agent looking for a new friend or two.”

It was Park’s turn to groan, “We arrive willing to order everything under the sun, and he builds a grocery list.  I’ll check his previous requisitions – whatever he’s been getting from us is probably going elsewhere.”  She held a beat and asked, “Wren…you get the feeling the Dragonfly’s too big for us?”

Walton chewed on the question.  It had begun to bother her when they’d returned to the Alpha Quadrant.  She answered, “She’s got a lot going on, doesn’t she?”

“We went from 500 crew to over 800.  Departments doubled or even tripled.  Some of the senior staff is starting to wobble, Wren.”

She’d read between the lines on the reports.  It wasn’t new news to her, but that her XO was voicing the concerns – that was something new.  “Worse than the reports suggest?”

Park’s eyes previewed her answer, “It’s not getting better.  We’ve promoted deputy chiefs in all departments, but they’re new to leadership.  We’ve had some…small discipline issues.  I’m working with the deputy chief team, but we’ve had to go to daily meetings and mentorship discussions…and some of it’s not landing with all of them.”

Wren muttered, “Shit.”  She tossed the PADD back to the table and walked to the long couch, plopping down on one end.  Park joined her on the other end, folding up her legs underneath her.  Walton rubbed her eyes, “You think this was a bad idea?”

“I think someone thought it was a good idea.  Take a great crew and give them a bigger and better platform.  Put them in the middle of a place that needs the most help.  Go to work.”  She refilled her cup, “The thing is…we had about a solid crew on the Mack, for the most part.  After the transfers out and then adding the 300 – we lost something along the way.  And things got harder.”  She tossed back her drink, “We’ll survive…but if things don’t get better soon, I don’t know what kind of shape we’ll be in when this is all over.”

Wren felt some relief in their discussion.  Some, but not all.  “You think they’d give us the Mack back if we asked nicely?”  She knew what she thought the answer would be.

Park chuckled, “There would be a lot of questions.”  She looked at her friend and CO, “It wouldn’t look good on either of our records, Wren.  We’d be the team that failed to adapt to the bigger and better.  We failed to lead.”

“I’ve written my share of evaluations of officers with those words in my previous job.  I know what’s on the other end.  Having your words thrown back at you – that’s going to hurt.”  She downed her drink, grimacing at the burn.  “We’ll worry about how much they’ll take from us when we get to that bridge.  Let’s try and get our hands around this shit show before we move on to the next one.”

“Even if that bridge is on fire?”

“At least it’ll be warm.”

“I would like to resign, Commander Park.”  Lieutenant Junior Grade Calvert Rogers stood before the XO, his hands listlessly at his side.  They were in her office, and he’d politely demanded a meeting first thing in the morning. He was practicing his breathing as she stared at him.

She remained impassive and replied, “Resign from Starfleet or resign from Chief Operations?  There’s a lot of space on the resignation spectrum, Mr. Rogers.”  She gestured to the chair, “Take a seat – this could take some time.”

He plopped down in the chair, “Resign from Chief of Operations.  It’s that easy.”  He put a PADD with his resignation notice on the desk, “I have just under 250 officers and crewman under me, sir.  I have people older than me and higher ranked than me.  My department meeting last night was a disaster.”  The disorder that had vomited out of the large group had shaken him.  He felt the fatigue from his restless night dragging him down.

Park didn’t pick up the PADD.  “It wasn’t great, I grant you.  You lost control of the meeting and let them take over.”

His face burned red, and he gripped the arms of the chair.  “Why didn’t you step in, Commander?”

She leaned forward on the desk, and he leaned back in his chair as her eyes bored into him, “Because that’s not my job, Mr. Rogers.  If I came in and saved you – I’d have to repeat that performance repeatedly – I’d eventually be Chief of Operations.  I held down science for a brief time – I don’t intend to repeat that error.”  She picked up the PADD and tossed it to him, “Resignation rejected.”  She slid her own PADD onto her desk, “Now, let’s talk about what went well and what didn’t.  We figure out where I can help you build up yourself; we find a way to balance the situation a little more.”

His blank stare held on for a little too long, and he jumped as she cleared her throat. He replied, “You said this could take some time…what did you mean by that, commander?”

“It means we’re on the Dragonfly for the long haul, Mr. Rogers.  You, me, everybody.  We won’t solve your department issues in the next few hours, but we will find a way to get your central computer rewired enough to earn a passing score at the next meeting.”

He joked, “You sound like a Borg, Commander Park.”

She didn’t crack a smile, “Whatever it takes, Mr. Rogers – Borg, Gorn, or Klingon.”

His smile vanished.

“This console is bugged.”  Ensign Carolyn Crawford mused as she went from station to station in the power plant on the Cardassian colony.  “So is this one.”  She showed the scanner results to her Chief, Lieutenant Commander Miados.

She grumbled as she began to understand what had happened, “They said this started yesterday – unconnected to the aperture opening weeks ago.  See if you can get into the computer.”  Miados had spent the night poring over the Cardassian Colony’s operations and equipment schematics.  Compared to the other colonies, they were barely scraping by.  “We know the Hubria Colony and this Craga Colony have been sniping at each other…and we know the administrator for the Hubria Colony is probably a new agent for the New Maquis.”  She’d read the report from Captain Walton this morning.  It wasn’t good news.

Crawford worked at the console, her eyes searching for records of the hack or manipulation.  There were traces of something in the system.  “Whatever they did, we’re going to need Barzo and V’Luth.  I could blunt force it, but we’d probably lose any hope of identifying the who, what, and all that.”  She saw the frown on her Chief’s face, “Should I not call…”

Miados waved her question away, “No, we need to involve them.  They’re just…they bicker like an old married couple.  I’m sure everybody else enjoys it, but it distracts me.”  She answered the long stare from Crawford, “You’ve known me long enough to know I hate distractions.  Especially when I’m trying to figure out how to save a colony from certain doom.”

“That bad?”  Crawford walked over, wondering what she was missing.

The Chief pointed out the various pieces of equipment in the plant that were either broken, malfunctioning, or mysteriously offline. “We can fabricate the smaller units on the Dragonfly, but the bigger units—those have to come off an Odyssey or a station.  Those three there supply power for the colony’s city and the defenses on the wall, keeping the wildlife at bay.”  Crawford had seen the larger wildlife in pictures and as a part of a shuttle tour of the area.  They were massive and only kept at by supercharged fences brimming with electric energy that could kill any of the larger four-legged Earth creatures.  She continued, “We can keep throwing our generators at the problem, but eventually, we must get this power plant operational.  Without it, this colony would be overrun in hours.  And if a generator fails – we’re back to being overrun.”

Crawford whistled low, “That’s why you have the Dragonfly producing generators around the clock.  Just in case.”  It had put a strain on the engineering and operations department.  “We’ve got a lot on our plate right now, Chief.”

Miados turned to her, her voice lowered, “I’m aware of the issues you’re referencing, Ensign Crawford.”

Carolyn waited a beat for an explanation.  It didn’t arrive.  “And?”

Miados answered, “We’ve got shift leads and team leads learning as they go. You’re still learning your people’s names, and our cadets have found themselves in not one, not two, but three fights in three days…with other departments – cadets and otherwise.  I had hoped keeping them busy would give us a break.  The brig will have to do for now.”  She fell silent for a minute, her eyes searching the darkened power plant for ideas or an answer to the troubles of the Dragonfly.  “The answer to your ‘and’ is more…’and’.  If Okada had survived…maybe she could have made sense of all of this.”  She felt there was still an empty space in the crew for their former Chief Engineer.  “But she’s not, and we’re in it. That’s the ‘and’.  Over and over for us until we get a chance to breathe.  Until then…,”

Crawford added, “We just have to find a way – bumpy or otherwise – through it all.”

Miados cracked, “At least we’ll be going somewhere.”

The klaxon rang her awake, and Captain Wren Walton scrambled for the console on the end table as she shook the sleep from her mind.  “Report.”

The voice of her XO, Commander Park, was unusually unsettled.  “Captain – we’re getting emergency reports from Four Fleet ships that the Cardassians are stepping up their activities against the apertures.  Admiral Beckett has sent out a priority one order to all ships within Underspace to evacuate immediately.”

Wren was awake now, “Status of the Douglas?”

“Our last report had them investigating their end of the Gamma Quadrant, but that was weeks ago.”

“Distance to the Bajoran Wormhole?”  Wren was putting together what needed to be done.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Get us there and to the position of the aperture we located.”  She closed the channel and checked her clock—three in the morning.  The Douglas was a competent ship with a competent crew.  The question was where they’d have to go to get out of the ass end of the Gamma Quadrant.  If the apertures were closing, they’d have few options to use to get back home.  And one of those options led straight back into the arms of the Devore.  Walton headed for the shower.  The clock had started.

Wren stepped onto the bridge fifteen minutes later as her XO called, “Captain on the bridge.”  She handed the CO a PADD, “We’re first in line for the wormhole – reports are coming in, and it is not good.  Worse than we thought.”  Park slipped into her chair to the right of the command chair.

Wren took her place in the center chair, reading the updates. The wormhole opened up, and they made their way into and through it.  Most of the senior staff was awake and at stations.  The reports were not subtle.  All hell was breaking loose, and it was moving at a pace that was causing panic and alarm among usually calm voices.  “Thasaz, get ready to give me viability on the aperture.”  The bridge was abuzz with energy but silent with a determined focus.

The Romulan Science Chief replied, “Sensors are ready.  Approaching the end of the wormhole…now.”  The Draongfly burst from within the beautiful opening and shifted course away to make room for the next ship.  Thasaz tapped at her console, “Reading the aperture as still open, but there’s a minor destabilization going on – computer estimates this aperture will shut down in one hour.”

Walton drummed her hands on the arms of her chair.  “Anything from Douglas?” Thasaz shook her head.

Ensign Oscar Reede at communications reported, “Nothing – I’m attempting to boost our signal and systems…but we need to be closer.”

The CO turned to her bridge crew, “I’m open to suggestions.”

Rogers at the operations console cleared his throat, “We…we should go to them, sir.  If there’s any chance that we can help them get home…we can’t ignore that…sir.”

Wren looked to the rest of the crew, “Anyone else?”

Sitting next to Thasaz was Science Cadet Lita Morrison, who glanced at her chief and then at the captain, who waved her on.  She began, “Do we know there’s a way out of there to where we need to go?”  She winced as Thasaz’s gaze swiveled to her and cursed her courage.

The CO replied, “We don’t, Cadet Morrison.  We know an aperture there leads to the Delta Quadrant, albeit into the mouth of the Devore Imperium.  The running theory is that if we get to Douglas, we can use the aperture to slide to the Delta…and then get to the outpost by the end of the month…and all go home.”  She pointed out, “I am open to other suggestions.”

Lita replied, “No suggestions…just guidance, sir. It’s going to be a rougher ride.  Underspace will have its fair share of turbulence as the apertures are manually and forcefully destroyed.  We’ll need to adjust shield harmonics on the fly.  The concern will be Douglas, sir.  We will need to have as much calculated for her as possible so she can make the adjustments before she takes the ride with us.”

Wren’s smile was small, but it was a smile.  “Get a team together and get to work.  You want to play on the bridge, be ready to turn your ideas into something we can use.”  She turned back to the bridge crew, “Last call.”

Lieutenant Kondo De La Fontaine spoke evenly at tactical, “Let’s get our friends home, captain.”  The rest of the crew around the bridge muttered agreement, nodding as he spoke.

Wren didn’t hesitate, “Helm – intercept course on the aperture and take us through.”  She sat back in her chair.  They were going to find a way to bring Douglas home.

“Douglas has made it through…moving away from the aperture.”  Ensign Gabriela Castillo wiped the sweat from her forehead as both ships drifted away from the opening to Underspace.  Suddenly, there was a rumble, and the bridge clattered from the impact.

Commander Thasaz reported from science, “The aperture has closed.  I’m not detecting the opening any longer, captain.”  She mourned the loss of the exploration that could have been had.  She torn.  The implications of Underspace in a universe full of bad actors were hard to ignore.  No love was lost with the Cardassians for her, yet she understood why they’d worked so hard to slam the door on everyone.  Power mattered to them, and control was second nature.

Walton hadn’t stood from her chair, “Report on the Douglas?”

Ensign Carolyn Crawford turned in her chair at engineering. “Shields are at 35% and holding. Their three bottom decks have buckled. There have been minimal injuries, and they’re reporting no fatalities.”  She smiled, “We made it safe and sound, captain.”

Walton still hadn’t stood, “Sound maybe.  We’re still in Klingon space, Ensign.  Safe will need verification.  Kondo – who’s coming to greet us?”

Lieutenant Kondo De La Fontaine’s threat screen had lit up within thirty seconds of their arrival.  “Five Bird of Preys are converging with two Vor’cha and one Negh’Var class.  They will intercept us within two minutes.  Their shields are up, and their weapons are fully armed.”

Commander Park wondered from her seat to the right of her CO, amused, “What no Bortasqu’ class?”

Walton side-eyed her, “They send that type of ship; we won’t live to see the hour.  Mr. Reede, send a message to the lead ship with our report on what’s happened.”  She turned to her left, “Commander Hargraves, it’s time to convince the Klingons we are not here to kill them, and they are not here to kill us.”

He stood from his chair, PADD in hand with the details he had worked out with Ensign Shaw on the Douglas.  He had to believe the Klingons would see reasons for their sudden appearance in their space with two modern and advanced starships with the power to inflict significant damage quickly.

Reede reported, “Lead ship is hailing us, sir.”

The screen flickered, and a middle-aged Klingon captain appeared.  “I am Captain J’Klast of the House of Koloth, Internal Security Division.  You are not supposed to be here, Captain.”  His face didn’t have anger in it.  Confusion, perhaps.  Annoyance?

“I’m Commander Charles Hargraves of the Federation starship Dragonfly – Chief Diplomatic Officer.  You’ve received our reports.”

J’Klast nodded half-interestedly, “Our science officer is inspecting them now.  I’d rather hear it from you.”

Charlie went with the truth, “We were trapped in Underspace…and this was our only safe way home.  Our other choices were the Devore…or the Romulan Free States.”

The Klingon Captain chuckled, “Those are all terrible choices indeed, Commander Hargraves.  You chose to come here, then?”

Wren stood from her chair, standing at the side of her chief diplomat, “Captain Wren Walton.  I’m honored to meet you, Captain J’Klast.  We’re here because we understand the Great House you serve is friendly to the Federation.  That we would find friends here.”

J’Klast leaned in, his eyes searching her face, “Captain Walton…you commanded the Mackenzie until very recently.”  She frowned, and he smiled as innocently as a Klingon could, “I keep track of ships I like.  Your predecessor was Captain Harris – he commanded the Edinburgh…which is how I came to know him.  We promised each other we’d meet again.”  The face of the Klingon captain flickered with a moment of reflection.  “I was saddened to hear of his passing.  He was one I looked forward to meeting again.”  He turned and accepted a device, read it, and tossed it back with a grunt, “Your story appears to…as you say, check out.  Given the state of the Empire, I’m recommending you stay with us until your other ship is well enough to travel…and we can make certain…arrangements to assure you safe passage home.”

Walton replied, “We’re honored by your actions, Captain J’Klast.”  He looked ready to close the channel but stopped.  Wren waited for him to speak, but he appeared to be in thought, unsure of what or how to ask what was on his mind.  She gave him a moment longer before asking, “In the spirit of cooperation – and to assist in whatever cover story you need to create…you would be welcome aboard the Dragonfly for a dinner and reception.  We’ve not had a chance to use the diplomatic facilities.”

He waved a finger at her, a growing smile on his lips, “You are a clever captain, Captain Walton.  I will bring several of my senior officers to dine with you and yours tonight.  Shall we, as you humans would say, bring anything?  Bloodwine?  Other spirits?”

Walton’s face went slack, and her voice flat, “No, Captain J’Klast.  No wine, no spirits…just yourself and your staff.”

He feigned insult, “Captain, you wound me.  You would accuse us of bringing liquids to ply and loosen your lips?”

Walton’s face remained unmoving, “Wasn’t an accusation, Captain.  Just a statement of fact.”

He laughed deeply, “You, I like.  I look forward to our dinner and discussions.  I shall bring our troupe of instrumentalists to help the evening’s party mood.”

The channel closed, and she turned to the bridge crew, “You heard the man.  Let’s plan a party.”
 

“The human word would be ‘turmoil,’ but it is closer to your concept of chaos.”   Captain J’Klast sat in the middle of the table with Captain Wren Walton on one side and Commander Charlie Hargraves on the other.  The senior staff was spread around the room at the other tables, as well as senior staff from the Douglas.  He had polished off the Earth and Klingon appetizers.  He was sipping, with annoyance, on a synthetic version of Bloodwine.  “I am not a party to the discussions of the heads of this house, but I can assure you that Koloth and the members of this great house feel much as he does.”

Wren downed the dregs of her win, “You were not a member of this house when you met Commander Harris.”  She snacked on a plate of Klingon appetizers.

J’Klast gave her a knowing look, “You do your research, captain.  I was searching for a place in this Empire when I met Harris.  Yes, a Klingon with an identity crisis.”  He chuckled, “Were my father alive, he would have taken me to task long ago.  I took the two wayward sisters back to be handled by their minor house…and wandered searching for a Great House that would accept me.”  He accepted a plate of roast chicken and mashed potatoes, “You humans have such a fascinating view of a meal.”  He took a bite, appreciating the flavors as they danced across his palette.  “I sought out Koloth as that madman Toral is not worthy of my blood.”  He chuckled again, “Toral sought to prove his…you would call it ‘bonafides’ or something…by using Underspace to take back what he believes rightfully that of the Klingon Empire.”  He accepted a refill and continued, “You would call what has happened ironic, but I call it proof that he’s a fool blinded by arrogance.”

Walton raised her eyebrows, “Some would say that’s a Klingon’s default setting, Captain J’Klast.”

He laughed deeply at her use of sardonic humor, “We are as complex as we are simple, Captain Walton.”  He turned serious, “This does offer an opportunity, one I hope you will take back to your people.”  The Klingon captain continued, “Toral’s failure to see the Cardassian plot and prevent it from occurring will have short and long-term implications for not just us but for you and the rest of the quadrant.  His failure will be felt on Qo’noS and within each major and minor house across Klingon space.”

Charlie agreed, “If he had succeeded, war was a possibility.  We would have never shut down the apertures – it’s not the way of the Federation or Starfleet, at least at first.  As the conflict spun out of control, everything could be on the table.”

Wren circled back, “Captain J’Klast – reading between the lines…you’re suggesting a Klingon Civil War.”  She let the words sink in between them before she asked, “You can’t be serious.”

J’Klast shrugged, “I know my people, captain.  We do not take the idea of a false Chancellor lying down…but also learned from our history.  I do not speak for any Major or Minor House – I speak for myself.  For now.”  He savored the mashed potatoes, “I, for one, would vote against a war with your people.  Your food is one of the…many reasons why I’d like you to remain out of the path of our warriors.”

Wren chuckled, “There’s many reasons?”

He shoved his empty and clean plate away as one of the waitstaff slid a Tomahawk steak before him.  “This is another one.  I was told this cut of steak could easily feed two humans.”  He smiled, “I’ve ordered several more in case this does not quench my hunger for the blood of your cows.”  He grabbed it with both hands and tore a bleeding piece, his eyes closing as the seared spices mixed with the tender meat, “Your cows and your potatoes are at the top of this list.  It is a long list, I assure you.”

“Is most of it food?”

He set the half-eaten steak down and pointed a greasy hand at her, “Half of it.”

She raised her eyebrows, curious.  “And the other half of the list?”

J’Klast picked the oversized steak and chomped off another piece of meat, “You and your valiant crew occupy a good portion of the rest of it, Captain Walton.  Now, I must interrogate this meat – we shall sit and discuss your path home once dinner has finished.”

“We’re going to need a Starbase.”  Captain Helena Dread stood in an alcove of the diplomatic center, her report in the hands of her Division Commander.  “Moore and McKee are working with what they have and what you’re able to machine here, but there’s plenty of parts missing that we’re only going to find on our side of the border.”

Walton glanced through the report, “Three decks buckled, and several structure issues identified – the aperture did this?”

Dread pointed out a few spots, “Yes and no.  The apertures and Underspace before the Cardassians decided to take a supercharged electro spanner?  No.  They were rough, but we figured out a way to get through without tearing our ships apart.  When our favorite neighbor decided to force all the apertures closed, they put plenty of unknown and high-powered variables into the apertures and Underspace.  Engineering and ops are trying to identify what did what with the Douglas…but we don’t have anything to compare against besides what our sensors pulled when we were running to find an exit.”

Wren grumbled, “And without more data, we’re going to be making hypotheses that are, at best, guesses and at worst – completely incorrect.”  She turned to look at the room where Klingons and Starfleet officers intermingled, “What would Jim Kirk say to all this?”

Helena turned at the question, “Kirk’s history with the Klingons was… complicated.”

“The Federation’s history isn’t much better.  I was just thinking – when Praxis exploded – the events of General Chang, the conspirators – it was all so easy for them to dismiss the Klingons as not having enough value for us to help them…and stand with them.  Instead, they held a cruel desire to tear them down.”

Dread asked, “Do you think history could repeat itself?”  She had spent the last few hours researching the historical context of the events of the last few years and beyond.

Wren wasn’t sure. She just had a feeling that teased at the edge of her senses that the shape of these events was cyclical.  “I think the history of the Klingon people is the same as humanity – desperate to stay alive while desperate to prove their status in the universe.”  She straightened her uniform, “What place will we have on the board as the pieces start to make their moves?  Will they move at all?  Will it be a stalemate until a spark sets off an explosion that can’t be stopped?”

Dread put her hand on Walton’s shoulder, “You’ve been spending too much time with Charlie, Wren.  Maybe put on a holodeck program of a nice green field with some sun…”

Walton rolled her eyes, “Careful, Dread.  I’ll assign you to your favorite Klingon.”

Helena glared at her, “He still thinks he can marry his niece to one of my officers.  No thanks.  You’re my favorite division commander, and whatever you say, I agree with.”

Wren chuckled in response, dismissing her, “Go fix the Douglas, Captain Dread.  We can’t stay here forever.”  She watched her division deputy commander disappear into a turbolift.

“Captain.”  J’Klast ambled to her side, “Shall we discuss how we’ll get you home?”

Walton replied, “You going to be eating while we talk?”

He laughed, “I have ordered the full list of desserts, anticipating our long discussion.”