“This all seems to be moving fast, Captain.”  All of a lieutenant junior grade, Calvert Rogers sat across the table from Wren Walton.  “I’ve been in Starfleet for just over a year…being interviewed for a department head position feels accelerated.”

She readily agreed, “It’s not that I don’t want you, Mr. Rogers.  It’s that we don’t have much of a choice.  Commander T’saath didn’t have a deputy chief in training, and the others in the department were not interested in stepping up.  You have the skill set needed, and you’ve had an experience where it counts.”  She scrolled through the dossier file, “You’ve had your share of conflicts in the past.  I’m assigning you to Commander Park – she will be your mentor through the process.  You’ll meet with her a few times a week to start out.”

He replied, “I’m aware of her track record.”

Wren raised her eyebrows, “Aware in what way, Mr. Rogers?”

Calvert felt his blood pressure increase.  What he had said and what he had meant had been two different things.  “I read up on the senior staff and ship history – I wanted to be thorough in my research for the position and the crew, sir.”  He felt his face tinged with embarrassment.

Wren tried a different approach, “Is it going to be a problem working with Commander Park?”

He frowned, “Why would it be, sir?”

“You said you were aware of her history.”

He lamented how he’d said it, but there wasn’t much to be said to repair the moment aside from, “My apologies, captain.  I just meant I’m aware of her background and knowledge as it will be helpful to mentor me.”

Wren studied him, wondering if that was the truth or the line he was desperate to sell her to get out from the hole he’d stumbled into digging.  “Very well.  Your quarters are assigned, and your duty station will start within the….”

The voice of her communications chief interrupted her, “Captain to the bridge – emergency distress call!”

She stood, “Well, welcome to the Dragonfly.  Come with me, and let’s introduce you to the way things seem to happen to this crew – no matter the ship we’re on.”  They walked the distance down the hall and into the new bridge, where she called out, “Report.”

Oscar Reede had found his new station a level up from Mackenzie.  The bridge itself was more expansive, with plenty more stations to make up for the additional crew they’d added.  “We’ve got a trade fleet under siege by Syndicate Pirates  – they were supposed to meet us at the colony as a part of our goodwill tour.”

Wren pointed Rogers to the console behind the XO chair as she slid into the center command chair. “Helm, adjust our course.”  She tapped the console on the arms of her chair as the Dragonfly shifted course. “They haven’t had any issues—why now?” she asked her senior staff as she looked around at them at their various consoles.

At the diplomatic station next to Reede, Charlie Hargraves offered, “Our new orders came through – change in command was sent to the various colonies on a pretty broad spectrum channel.  Some of our old friends could be thinking they have a chance to test our resolve or even just us.”

At the helm, Castillo announced, “Ten minutes to intercept.”  The transition to the Dragonfly had been sudden for all of them, and it was taking her time to get used to the larger Obena class.  She’d been reading up on the impulse engines with heightened interest – this ship could move like nothing she’d ever piloted.  It was helping her calm her rankled nerves as the clock on her console raced to zero.

Kondo was working on extensive long-range and short-range sensor systems from tactical at the front of the bridge, next to Castillo, “This doesn’t feel like a trap – at least from the trader’s side of things.  The colony we’re supposed to be working on is on edge as it is.  This could be a way for those that want her to swing away from us to make that happen.”  He shrugged, “What they don’t realize is that if they chose Syndicate, or True Way, or even New Maquis – none of those variables are stable or safe in the long term.”

Wren listened and pondered on her own.  The continued fluctuation in the Former Demilitarized Zone of the varying actors had long passed being annoying.  It was now making their work far more complicated.  “Send a coded message to the colony updating them on the situation.  Red alert.”

“You have no authority here.”   The Romulan captain of the Syndicate vessel was irritated at being ordered to stop attempting to steal the content of the trade fleet.  “I don’t recognize Starfleet, and you don’t want to mix it up with our ship.  Be on your way, Captain Walton.”   

The red light banks around the bridge continued to blink as the soft klaxon rang in the background.  Walton felt her lips twitch.  She wasn’t sure if he was a fool or if he had someone else waiting to slip out from behind a moon, but he was confident.  She sat in her command chair and leaned forward, “I didn’t stutter if that’s what you were asking, captain.  One last time – immediately cease your attack and return all materials to the trade fleet.”  The channel closed, and the attack resumed.  Wren was amazed at the hubris of the man but not long enough to give him any more chances.  “Looks like we’re going to be teaching some lessons today. Mr. De La Fontaine – lock phasers and fire.  Helm – tactical maneuvers.”

Gabrielle Castillo tapped the Dragonfly into action, her heart racing at the reality of how quickly she was going to have to figure out how this ship worked.  She had worked with Kondo on the Mack in a similar seating arrangement, so that wasn’t the issue.  The issue was the incredibly complex impulse engines at her command – arguably the most unique feature on the Obena class ship.  Kondo started asking for firing positions, and Castillo went to work as the ship’s inertial dampeners went to work.  She felt a small smile cross her lips as the large ship was able to shift, dodge, weave, and slip in behind the Syndicate ship with little effort, and she watched with suppressed pride as her colleague went to work with his phasers, rocking them.  He reported, “Impact on their shields, 75%.  They are returning fire.”  The ship didn’t shake, the lights didn’t blink, but there was the sound of weapons fire on the regenerative shields.  “Minimal impact.  No damage reported.  They’re swinging around for a torpedo run.” Walton watched as the helm and tactical team danced the Dragonfly through the battle.  The torpedoes did little damage.  Kondo led another assault of phasers, “Their shields are at 50%.” 

Wren asked, “Does he want us to kill him?  He can’t think he’s going to win this.”

Her question was answered a moment later: “Incoming ship signals – two more Syndicate cruisers – thirty seconds.”

She grumbled, “Signal Douglas – we’re going to need some backup.”