Emerging from the turbo lift car on the starboard aft bulkhead, Peri and Or’uil were in deep conversation until they noticed the Captain disappearing into the turbo lift on the opposite side of the bridge, deep in conversation with a dark-haired man neither had any recollection of. Noticing the rest of the senior staff heading for StratOps, the two yellow-clad officers made their way down the small steps to the mission operations area at the back of the bridge. 

Falling into step beside the Flight Operations officer, Peri leaned in and ‘psst’ into his ear. “Henry,” she whispered, “who was that with the Captain?”

“Brass,” Flyboy responded flatly, then elaborated further as they reached their position in the huddle. “New Task Force Commander I think.”

Before the conversation could continue, Commander Noli stepped up to the plate. “Alright people,” she began, “as you probably just saw, Captain Nazir and I just met with the new Task Force Commander, who was here to update us on the developing situation in the former DMZ.” She turned to the wall-mounted controls and the massive MSD on the aft bulkhead changed instantly, becoming a 2D representation of the former demilitarised zone. “We don’t know a lot, but we do know more than the FNS is reporting.”

Almost as if on cue, the screen changed to reflect the many news reports spreading across the Federation: images of wounded people; ageing ships in combat; officials giving speeches, both Starfleet and Cardassian alike. Even a timeline of historical events from decades ago ticked away on the right-hand side of the screen while the staff watched and listened to the news reports for several minutes.

‘Naturally, the region is still considered Federation territory, but it is getting increasingly common for Cardassian vessels to cross the border and deal with developing situations with their own particular brand of justice,” the Bajoran eventually frowned, folding her arms across her chest, glancing at the news reports.

“Well, we should all be terrified for the people out there then,” Doctor Zinn remarked, leaning on the back of a chair at one of the consoles. “Most of us here know exactly what their type of justice means.”

His words were met with a chorus of hushed words until Noli stepped forward and tried to placate the staff. “Starfleet is not going to let anything happen to these people, not if the Captain has anything to say about the matter.”

“And what does she have to say on this, exactly?” Lieutenant Mora, the Bolian from engineering, chimed in.

“That we are Starfleet officers and we will do our duty to protect the people of the DMZ,” a stern, familiar voice sounded from behind the group. Parting like the proverbial Red Sea of Earth, Fleet Captain Nazir walked through the group and stood beside the taller Noli, a quick glare at Mora for dramatic effect along the way. “The situation is a powder keg. If we go in too heavy-handed, we’ll force worlds into the waiting arms of the Detapa Council. But if we standby and do nothing, people are going to continue to get hurt,” she told, then turned to the console, tapping away.

Once complete, she swapped places with the Bajoran and drew their attention to the larger screen again. “This is Quasaris,” she told them, “It is located approximately a lightyear from the Cardassian border and, like so many other planets, has been largely left alone for the last couple of decades. Until Starfleet received a coded distress signal from the planet yesterday.”

“Quasaris?” Lakota‘s Orion scientist, Teyahna, stepped forward at the mention of the planet’s name. “There’s a research facility there. We’re not talking anything big or special, or at least we weren’t a couple of decades ago,” she told, eliciting nods from her medical colleague.

“That’s right,” the Deltan, Zinn, agreed. “Last I heard they were working on eradicating the Dengolin fever that had been ravaging one of the Cardassian-occupied colonies.”

Nazir nodded along and refined the map on the screen to pinpoint the facility’s location. “It’s the facility that sent the distress call. The nature of their distress is unknown, but the fact it is on an encoded frequency and not transmitted freely suggests something is afoot,” the Captain surmised.

“Captain, I’ve been out there. I’ve spent time in the DMZ. I’d wager all the gold pressed latinum in my footlocker that the colonists are up to something they don’t want to draw the Cardassian’s attention to,” Peri suggested, looking at the map. “They aren’t far from Cardassian patrol routes on their side of the border,” she told, pointing out to waypoint markers.

“These people are scientists, Commander. They’re not criminals,” Zinn rebutted, but to no avail.

“Come on, Doctor. We’ve all read the recent reports, and we all know the history. The people out there have always preferred to keep Starfleet out of their business. They’ve probably had no choice but to reach out this time,” Noli interjected with furrowed brows.

“These people are still Federation citizens,” Or’uil said, offering his opinion on the matter. “Whether they want Starfleet there or not, we must investigate the distress call,” the young Ungeat refocused the conversation in a way that drew a smile from the Captain.

“Or’uil is right,” Nazir nodded, calling that particular part of the discussion to a halt. “Captain Varro has ordered the squadron to the region. Buran and Osiris will officially be on patrol in the area, but, unofficially, they have orders to support any action we undertake.” With that, the Captain zoomed the display out so the border could be more visible. “Buran will patrol the border here,” she pointed, “whilst Osiris will be here, providing supplies to the planet and monitoring the border for signs of life. She’ll relay any movements to us.”

“That’s going to calm the tension,” Zinn responded sarcastically, folding his arms across his chest.

“We have every right to be there,” Nazir reminded the Chief Medical Officer, turning her attention fully from the screen. “This is Federation space, and while it might piss off the locals, or antagonise the neighbours…” she smirked, “frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

Laughing, her arms folded across her chest, Teyahna playfully nudged the Deltan in the shoulder. “That told you,” she grinned.

“Number One,” the Captain took a deep breath and looked at her able deputy. “See to the final preparations. Henry, we’ll get underway within the hour. Put together a flight plan and send it to the squadron. Lieutenant Or’uil, get me a secure channel with the squadron commanders,” the Trill instructed. “They’re going to need to be filled in…”