The viewing gallery was mostly empty, a not unexpected state given it was deep within the base’s gamma shift. Normally filled with chatter and bustle, it was a popular site for meeting and lunch dates due to the stunning views afforded by the transparent wall that looked out onto the internal dock of Starbase 72.  Captain Varen’s only company, a young Bolian who was quietly clipping the small rose bushes on the other side of the lounge, continued to inadvertently serenade the man as she hummed an old nursery rhyme beneath her breath. Beyond the clear material a half dozen vessels slumbered in their berths, wrapped in invisible blankets of tractor beams they hung motionless in the airless dockyard, their hulls speckled with the sporadic lights of crewman either working late or rising early. Most would be departing from the base when the alpha watch came around, setting courses for distant stars and the next adventure. A comforting wash of serenity lapped against Varen as he stared through the almost invisible wall, imagining the next exciting chapter for each vessel, desperate to pluck them from their shelves as he had his models as a child on Bajor.

“Do you often hang around in lounges after dark?” Tanek accused from behind, catching the man lost in his imagination.

“Only when I need to meet with elusive Captains.” Varen eyed the older man as he came to sit on the curving sofa next to him. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ever since the debrief you haven’t answered my calls, you’ve had your officers divert me all over the base; you even hid from me when I came aboard Daedalus in person.”

“Lies and slander.” Tanek relaxed back into the sofa, placing his feet laid up on the table as he looked out into the dock. “Who told you I’d be here?”

“Bahir.” Varen offered the small stripped bag in his hand, its top rolled outwards to make a small pouch, filled with round shapes. “Bon-Bon?”

“I’d hate to take that new pip off him already for betraying his captain.” Tanek reached out, taking a pastel pink sweet from the bag. Cupping his other hand under the falling snow of icing sugar he raised the sweet up to his mouth. “Strawberry?”

“Like there is any other kind.” Varen smiled, in the fifteen years he had known Captain Tanek, he had never once refused a sweet. “Don’t be too hard on Bahir, I may have insinuated that he would loose the pip if he didn’t tell me.” A mischievous look spread across his face as he popped a pink sphere into his own mouth, the young Saurian officer had turned a similar colour of pale pastél when Varen had cornered him in the Daedalus’ mess.

The two men shared a comfortable moment, the sound of chewing in counterpoint to the almost imperceptible melody of the Bolian gardener who continued her ministrations on a distant Ficus.

Varen set down the striped bag on the sofa between them and turned to the aged Denobulan “I just wanted to check in.”

“I’m fine.” The answer was cold, professional. “I’ve lost crewmen before.” The man sat stone-faced, his fixed face of cool stoicism hard earned over the decades.

“But it was Khos. He was special.” Varen could feel the lump beginning to form in his throat. He had spent a great deal of time with Dil Khos when he was aboard Starbase 72 between missions, including sharing stories one too many nights over fruity ciders, smuggled from the homeworld. The two men had become firm friends, brothers from different sides of the Bajoran experience. His loss aboard the Borg Sphere continued to leave a void and an empty place setting at Varen’s dinner table.

“Did you come here to ask me the same question as everyone else?” Tanek stared out into the dock, his focus like a phaser carving away at the glass as his voice dripped with detached frustration.

Varen’s breath caught in his throat as the tone sent a chill down his spine. “No Captain.” He offered a padd from the table. “Command has some new orders for you.”

An unexpected tension slumped down between the two men, its sticky tendrils working their way into Varen’s friendly intentions as Tanek scrolled through the data on the padd. “47?”

“Yes, I’ve been transferred, apparently my diplomatic talents might be useful in the Thomar Expanse. I thought you might like to come with, see some smiling faces for a bit?” Varen picked another sweet form the bag as he offered it across the sofa, hoping to draw Tanek back into conversation.

“Daedalus isn’t exactly designed for diplomacy. As much as I’d like to see some smiling faces, we’d have to host them in the cargo bay.” his tone had warmed slightly, Varen took this as a good sign.

“She’s a great ship but she’s a first responder Tanek, she’s only ever going to be on the front lines. Plus I thought you might need a slightly bigger office.” Varen reached up to his badge and after wiping the icing sugar that hung to his short beard, tapped the combadge. “Varen to Ensign Jamers. ‘Operation Sunshine’ is a go.”

Outside the tall windows, directly across from the lounge a series of long lighting fixtures burst into life as electrical currents surged through their elements and flooded the shadowed docking bay with cool, blue tinged light. They silently clunked into action, swelling in slow sequence down the length of the previously unseen grey hull. The leading edge of main hull caught the light first, creeping across the wide disk and around the recessed bay doors protected within the notch at the prow. A small deflector caught the growing illumination next, held close beneath the main hull, nestled safely in the heart of the growing ship. The light crept further backwards, picking up pace as if the ship was wresting to escape its bonds as twin catamaran pontoons cast shadows down the central line of the vessel; a wide hexagonal module perched atop them at the rear as they tapered into nothingness. Two nacelles stretched out behind them, hanging delicately, clean and sharp, waiting to cut through the waterless ocean of deep space. As if on cue a single light clicked into existence at the bow of the ship illuminating the tall black letters of its registry, USS Helios.

Tanek offered a slow clap as the sole audience member. “What did you promise…”

“Two whole cases of Bajoran fruit tarts. They’re already en-route from DS9.” Varen admitted. “Was it worth it?”

“She’s… impressive.” Tanek’s eyes were growing wide. This was an even better sign. “But she’s a warship.”

“She’s also got over a dozen specialist labs, a state of the art sensor package after her recent refit, which also added a large diplomatic suite… beautiful carpets by the way… and retrofitted a portion of the shuttle bay for industrial replicators and fabrication modules.”

“She’s still carrying a big gun.” Tanek eyed the Bajoran out of the corner of his eye, his focus locked on the large weapons pod sat atop the sleek catamarans.

“Which we can both agree should stay cold.”  Varen turned to face the other man, it was time to lay all the cards out. “Tanek. I’ll be honest with you. The Federation is in the midst of a crisis, no-one has faith in us anymore. I need you to go out there and win some hearts.”

“Kiss some babies?”

“If needs be yes. And this…”  he motioned to the now fully illuminated ship as it hung in its berth, patiently waiting “…Is a symbol. The Federation is committed to the safety of our allies and supporters but we’re looking forward to a new era of prosperity. We’re ‘beating swords into ploughshares’ to borrow a human phrase.”

“It’s still an awfully sharp ploughshare.” Tanek turned to meet the young Captain’s eye.

“Then it’s a good job you’ll think twice before you use it, isn’t it?” Varen offered a pleading look, the last mote of icing sugar falling from the edges of his moustache. “Not everyone is as big a fan of farming as we are.”

The lounge had fallen silent, the Bolian gardener having departed to inspect the next set of green patients. The two men’s held their breath noiselessly for a moment. An eternity dragged itself across the sofa between the two Captains.

“Tell me about the carpets.” Tanek conceeded, reaching for another bon-bon from the bag.

“They’re a lovely shade of teal… I know… just stay with me now…”

Talerak Krall shuffled the padds on his desk into two ordered piles for the fifth time in as many minutes, his nervous energy guiding his calloused fingers to organise them arbitrarily into comfortingly equal stacks. He cast his eyes to the clock hanging above the tall oak doors, it’s long hands crawling across the circumference threateningly. Panic gripped the alderman as he noticed the minute hand leaping towards the large red mark that would indicate the shift change in the vast labyrinth of mines beneath the town. Soon the large square outside his office would be filled with five hundred workers making their way home from the mines, making the air thick with minerals dust shaken from their vibrant orange and yellow jumpsuits. A thousand eyes that would be accustomed to peering through these short-lived dust clouds that might spy his secretive visitors. 

Reaching towards the padds once again he instead reached for the small intercom. “Allya, any updates?”

A tinny voice squawked from the small black comms panel, outdated by galactic standards even when it was fitted. “Not yet Mr. Krall sir. You have several message from Supervisor Fennick, Logistics have asked for your sign off on the latest transport orders and…” an inaudible sigh emanated from the secretary’s lips, only noticeable by the break in her stream of updates “… Commander Trudel have requested a meeting. Three times.”

Talerak chewed his bottom lip, hoping the pain might distract from the butterflies that forced to work their out of his stomach. “It seems they must have changed their mind Ms. Grimal, please arrange…” 

A finger reached across the desk and clicked the small mute switch as a voice crept across the dimly lit office. “They will be here, have confidence.”

“I was foolish to think they would be interested in an empty mine.” 

“You have more to offer than the minerals beneath your feet.” Though the hand remained on the mute button, the assertive tone of the voice was sufficient to make Krall reconsider his actions. “A dozen interstellar governments would be glad to have your expert hand leading this new frontier.”

“You mean they’d be glad of the a spy station.” He could feel the bile rising in his throat, what had possessed him to take such a tone with the woman who was offering a new and brighter future?

“You have much to offer Alderman.” The long, slender hand lifted from the mute switch, hovering nearby should he make a foolish choice. “The Federation no longer wants you. They no longer care about your people, they are content to throw you back into the ocean. The great Federation was only interested when you had resources for the taking.” She hovered over the next words, allowing his righteous indignation to begin boiling up. “Now you have nothing to steal, the mighty Federation laughs at you as they take their tools and their supplies and their yokes.”

She had chosen the right words, a wave of red frustration swept up Talerak’s face as his short fat arms began to quiver in anger. Flicking the mute button back to open he sputtered and rumbled like a boiling kettle, his words catching in his grinding teeth. “Tell the Commander I do not care what they want. Starfleet have made it clear they wish to leave. They should do so.”

Silence filled the comm channel for a long moment before the young woman’s voice returned. ‘They’re here sir.” Her voice wavered fearfully.

The dark red colour of Krall’s visage fell away as a cresting wave of pale white rushed across his face. He cast a look towards his companion, she seemed unmoved, like she had just been informed her tea was on its way. “Send them in then please.” he closed the channel with a small beep as he rushed around the desk, brushing evidence of the mine’s omnipresent dust from his shirt. 

The tall oak doors swung silently open, a large, gloved hand pushing it aside just enough for the three bulky shapes to slide through, before quietly closing it with a muted click of the lock. The three figures stood patiently at the door, their tan uniforms creaking in counterpoint to the Alderman’s nervous breath; a low buzz emanating from the long snouts of their mask as the green band of their cybernetic eye flickered back and forth, surveying the small office till their attention landed on the small nervous man. 

From the shadowed corner the woman stepped forward, brushing her long hair over her ears causing her traditional earing to jingle gently. “There’s no need for the disguises here agents.” The Bajoran woman’s voice was silky with authority.  

The three figures reached up to their helmets, a click and hiss of the escaping atmosphere indicating they were now released, exposed. As they lifted the immense helmets from their shoulders Krall caught a glimpse of dark, mottled skin, short hair cut precisely to reveal the peaks of their ears. 

“Alderman Krall, may I introduce Major Noren of the Tal Shiar.” 

Bib tugged in frustration at the hem of his sleeves, feeling the tension spread across his recently maroon shoulders as he battled with the fabric, desperately bidding it to magically extend. As he tugged once more, channelling his fury into the effort he heard a subtle crack of stitching from across his shoulder as the fabric buckled under his desperation. 

“Nervous?” A voice called from a reclined figure in a nearby chais. 

“I’m pretty sure the replicator got my size wrong.” Bib muttered in frustration as he attempted to reach the tear. 

“It replicates it based on your file.” the figure smacked its hands across a taught belly, “are you sure you haven’t put on a few pounds?”

The tall Andorian snapped his head towards the figure, forgetting completely about the tear on his shoulder. “Hardly.” he whispered, his eyes narrowing. “In fact i’ve been spending a lot more time in gym.”

“Much to the approval of many of the ships young ensigns.” the voice smiled back, a wry grin spreading across his face. “And even some of the senior staff.”

“You’re very funny.” Bib returned to running his fingers across his shoulder blades, hunting for evidence of the damage. “In any case, what have I got to be nervous about?”

“Oh! Nothing much.” The voice gesticulated around the wide lounge, dimly lit by the dull glow of ensconced holographic flames along the wall. “Big ship, big crew, big mission.”

“I’ve been in command before.” Bib mustered all his confidence, his voice faltering slightly. He swallowed a lump that threatened to leap from his throat as his own stomach threatened to betray his bravado, Helios was one of the larger vessels he had served on as anything more than a visiting officer on assignment, and the most populated. His stomach churned again at the thought of the several hundred crew going about their business aboard the main body of the ship, visible out the wide windows behind him. Satisfied the tear wasn’t visible he stood from the wide couches, taking the opportunity to reset the patterned cushions, before crossing to a long oak side table where he began checking the glassware was as perfectly arranged as it had been several minutes ago. “I’m not nervous.”

“It’s alright to admit it. It won’t change my opinion of you.” The voice felt nearer, hovering at Bib’s shoulder. “It’s a big step up.”

“There’s a lot at stake.” Bib admitted, lifting a tall glass to his level, turning it in the dim light, he was sure he spotted a smudge. “Starfleet’s still reeling from Frontier Day; we’re short ships, officer, resources.” Satisfied the smudge was a trick of the light he returned it to an ornate metal tray. “Everything is in short supply.”

“Hope?”

“Almost definitely.” Bib took a few steps along the counter top, running his fingers across the smooth lacquered surface. “We’ve taken a lot of hits recently but Tanek was right when he said it was time to take the next step.” The newly minted commander could still hear the Captain’s ship-wide address ringing in he ears, Tanek was inspiring when he spoke and today’s general welcome had been no different as he spoke of an exciting new adventure for them all. No-one but Bib had seen the man choke when he spoke of carrying the flag for all the recent lost friends and family, a fact Bib was willing to take to his grave in the, hopefully, distant future. After the message he had privately spoke to his new XO of the need to draw the crew together, both personally and professionally; the fleet was full of nervous crewmen, young and old, Tanek had emphasised kindness in the face of inexperience. He felt the lump in his throat rise again. “There’s a lot people taking steps they weren’t expecting.” 

“That’s how officers like you get jobs like this.” The voice was unexpectedly dripping with venom. 

A wash of chilly air rolled across the polished floor, it’s tendril snapping at the mock holographic flames in the lighting sconces as it caused a shiver to run across Bib’s back and through his gut, stirring the guilt that lay nestled beneath all his choices. His eyes moved on to inspect the memorial china arranged on the counter top as he chewed through his own doubts, bitter in his mouth despite remaining unspoken. Satisfied the delicate cups and saucers were chip free he finally summoned a response.

“I never had you pegged for a bitter man.” Bib’s hand hovered over a pile of napkins. 

“It was meant to be me.” The man’s voice called from lightyears away, a sadness carried on particles of the solar winds. 

“I know.” The words hung in a sorrowful fermata as Bib began tugging at his sleeves once more. “How do I look?” he asked, turning to face the figure of the young Bajoran man that emerged from the shadows of the faux-candlelight. His dark blue eyes danced across the surface of the Commander’s uniform before settling on his face, a quiet tinkle escaping his earring as he tilted his head.

“Very impressive; and officerly, and smart, and executive and…” the man faltered momentarily “… very handsome.”

“Thankyou Khos.” Bib smiled at the face of his friend and former commander. His body felt numb, colder than the ice-storms he had sailed in his youth on Andoria. “I should have been abord the Unimatrix Sphere with you.” He confessed, feeling the words drop like leaden weights from his lips. 

“Then it would have been someone else in that uniform. I’d be dead either way.” Dil Khos had always made a point of being honest, he didn’t see a reason that should change in death. In the silence the two shared a lifetime of unspoken words, their minds racing to futures that would now never exist. 

A familiar smile extended across Dil’s face, Bib’s heart breaking once again. 

“Now wake-up. You’re drooling.” 

Bib awoke with a start as the young lieutenant pulled away in surprise, her unblinking hexagonal compound eyes hovering over the commander who had, moments ago, been loudly and unflatteringly snoring. Her armoured exoskeleton clattering across the polished floor as she took a step back, unsure whether to stand at attention. 

“What is it Lieutenant?” Bib snapped, reaching up to the corner of his mouth to check for the suggested spittle. ‘That was too sharp, strike one’ he chastised mentally. 

A series of rhythmic clicks emanated from the insectoid officer, the rapid flexing and beating of her chitinous mouth coupled with a sequence of specific head movements being rapidly considered and then translated into a calm female voice from the commbadge. “Ambassador Natel is here.” A blank expression rolled across Bib’s face as she clarified in the same calm computer generated voice. “For your welcome meeting?”

Bib felt his antenna quiver and push against his skull, desperately trying to hide his embarrassment. “He didn’t…”

“See you drooling? No. But I could hear you snoring from the turbolift.” A cool voice called from outside the lounge’s open portal, the black uniformed figure of the newly assigned Ambassador leaning casually against the wall out of sight. 

“I apologise Commander. The doors are always open…” The lieutenant gave her best approximation at an apologetic shrug, her bony exo-skeleton body rasping as her plates rubbed together in the abnormal movement. 

Bib looked to the wide open archway, he knew he’d regret that directive when he wrote it. ‘Always keep the doors open.’ he could hear the echo of his own idealism laughing at him ‘It engenders a sense of openness.’ Shaking his head as he stood from the couch, tugging at the sleeves that still seemed too short for his muscular arms. “Thankyou…” he blanked, his tongue desperately searching for the Lieutenant’s name.

A series of clicks, an ear-pleasing sequence of polyphonic layers filled the awkward silence, followed by the same calm voice “You may call me Chi. Sir.” Bib was sure he could hear a downward turn of disappointment despite the computers even tone. 

‘Strike two. What XO doesn’t know his own officer’s names?’ he could feel the familiar voice of judgement calling from the edge of his mind. Pushing past his own disappointment he attempted his most disarming smile. “Thankyou Chi. I’ll see him now.” 

The Xindi officer offered a shallow box, the tips of the long maroon stole she wore in place of a traditional uniform brushing the polished floor. “I will be in the Rotunda should you require anything Commander.” She quickly turned on her tridactyl feet and silently departed the room, pausing only to offer an arm to the ambassador indicating he may enter, before she disappeared down the corridor to her desk in the diplomatic suite’s central hub, affectionately termed the Rotunda for is circular layout and communal ethos.

Natel’s boots lightly squeaked across the polished floor, his tall figure reflected in the shining surface as he took in the wide lounge, currently dimly lit by the sconces that caught the delicate golden inlays and dark marble furniture. “This is all very impressive.” 

“Well I hope you like it. It’s your new office.” Bib offered the man a smile, they had only met a few times prior across opposite sides of the table. “Inspired by the Acropolis on Earth.” He nodded towards the three marble statues ensconced in the fresco that acted as a signature piece of work at the far end. Natel raised an approving eyebrow. 

“Not worried it seems a little…” The Cardassian rolled his tongue around his cheeks, searching for the most choice word. “… opulent?” Natel fixed his eye on Bib as he devoured the word slowly, his tongue crisply cutting the plosive consonant. 

“You should see the Kor suite. That’s inspired by the Great Hall on Qo’nos” Bib joked, an awkward smile reaching across his face. 

“Kahless save us!” Natel exclaimed in mock fear. “I’ll have to keep sickbay on standby working around all those blades.” The two men shared a comfortable chuckle.

“In all seriousness. The suites are entirely adaptable, if you feel something is sending the wrong message then please don’t hesitate to request changes.” Bib nodded to the corridor. “Chi will be able to adapt the holomatrix as needed. She’ll be acting as your attache.” 

“We had an brief but informative chat whilst we waited for you to wake from your nap.” Bib felt his stomach turn, he had assumed they had only been there a few moments. “ I have never met a Xindi Insectoid, I look forward to hearing her particular view on things.” 

“She has a singular mind for the small things.” Bib’s embarrassment increased as he realised he couldn’t recall a single element of her record, save that it was thick with accolades. ‘Strike Three’ his inner critic began to mutter until a single page fell from Lieutenant Chi’s imaginary service jacket, its fluttering interrupting his internal referee. “You should ask her about Cilliack Prime, helped avoid a war with nothing but two Betazoid apples and a local river-worm.” His inner saboteur retreated back to the shadows, his sudden remembrance stifling it’s hold on his confidence. 

The warmth of the room ebbed slightly as the two men’s eyes met as they acknowledged their shared pain. “Zaya spoke very highly of you Commander. I am sure she would be cheering your promotion in her frustratingly positive way.” The mask of trained Cardassian confidence slipped momentarily, a complicated history rumbling beneath the excruciatingly measured outward appearence. 

“Only as much as she would be cheering for your new role. Ambassador.” Bib offered. Zaya had been an important part of both their lives at different stages in their journey, her recent loss in the process of saving the remnants of Unimatrix Zero had been a difficault reality to accept.

Natel scoffed loudly, a deep, honest laugh escaping his lips as he tilted his head back. “I think she would be stunned into silence. Neither of us would have ever thought Central Command would bestow me with that title.” He wiped away a tear that was beginning to form in the corner of his eye. “It’s a practical appointment in truth, I’m a senior Gul with experience working in this region.” A smile spread across his lips, rows of teeth spreading out like a cheshire cat, polished and somehow inherently false. 

“Regardless of the reason for your appointment, you are here Natel.” Bib motioned to the long sofa that lay under the wide windows that spread along the back wall of the room, uninterrupted by bulkheads and struts it gave an unfettered view of the thousands of pinpricks of light Helios raced past at warp. “I wanted to just clear a few things up though before we got down to business.” 

“Brass tacks as the Humans say?” Natel tossed aside a plush velvet decorative cushion to make room for the tail of his unforgiving uniform. “I am aware that my presence here is on behalf of the Cardassian Union, I do not claim to speak directly for the Federation if that is what you’re concerned about. I do have a great deal of authority for the Union however, though not quite plenipotentiary” 

Bib’s antenna twitched as he sat, the newly minted ambassador was frank and to the point, a good sign. “We are willing to give you a fair amount of leeway to speak on our behalf in the interest of furthering a collaborative involvement in the region, though we reserve the right to step in to protect our interests.” Natel’s widened momentarily in surprise, to be given a wide hand was an unexpected gift, the ambassador quickly regained control of his visage as he tilted his head in a silent request for clarification. “You are skilled, no doubt, you’ve earned your rank and we want to respect that.” Bib looked deep into Natel’s eyes, his tongue struggling to choose his next words.

“Continue.” Natel didn’t blink, a handy trick acquired in the halls of Central Command.

Bib sighed quietly as he broke the , Captain Tanek had been very clear that the commander was to give their new diplomat an honest estimation of their current situation. “We know Union is struggling, they need the resources of this region.”

“Do you think you have a secret Commander? Do you think you have caught us out in a half-truth.” Natel could feel his hackles rising but remained calm with some effort. “I would think the Federation has greater concerns at the moment than our resources.” he smirked at the punch, petty perhaps but satisfying none the less. 

“You misunderstand Natel.” The Andorian looked tired, his antenna laying flat across his head like wilted vines. “The Federation is willing to let you have access to some of these resources. On the proviso the expanse remains neutral.”

“You would have us be your stooges? Puppets to operate the region as you desire.” the ambassador’s tone was sharp as obsidian. 

“Not at all. We want openness, we want fairness and we want safety for the region.” Bib’s eyes sank deep into his sockets as the stress of the last few weeks finally took hold. “We want to go exploring. We’re tired of the fight.”

The men sat in silence, the muted thrum of the ship at warp barely audible in the module that hung between the Akira classes’ pylons, now partially converted from weapons pod to diplomatic suite. Natel’s eyes narrowed as he plucked the truth from behind the weary Andorian’s eyes. “You don’t have the resources do you?” 

“Starfleet is constantly assessing the requirements of the Federation and our responsibilities to it’s aims.” Bib repeated the practiced statement flatly. “The Thomar Expanse is neutral territory and should remain so. Unfortunately there are those who would abuse the region.”

“And you would prefer a devil you know.” 

“We would prefer that the Federation and the Union share their assets to ensure the continued neutral state of the region.” Bib offered the carrot, just far enough to entice the ambassador to approach. “Particularly where the Breen Confederacy and the Tzenkethi Coalition are concerned.”

Natel leaned back, his defensive tone quickly dismissed as he realised the Federation was offering more than expensive minerals. The offered unity, they offered legitimacy, they offered tacet approval of a Union that was still struggling to rise friom the shadows of their past deeds. 

“Perhaps we should head over to the Kor suite, check the quality of the blood wine.” Natel smiled, his cheshire cat grin spreading a lightyear wide at the thought of Starfleet coming to Cardassia for help. 

Bib motioned to the open doorway, allowing the Ambassador to lead the way through his new workplace; a tightly controlled smirk barely hidden as he reeled the man in tighter like a fish on the line.