Things never happened at Number 3 Facility; nothing of note at least.  It was one of several graveyards for old ships; a last resting place for old workhorses of the fleet, battered defenders of the Federations borders and noble explorers.  This was the place ships came to die, though to be honest that was a little harsh; a number of these vessels would get a second chance; called back into service or possible heading into private hands.  For the rest it was spare parts and recycling.

So it was a huge surprise when Commander Hars Bilwat, the facilities Bolian head of operations received a priority message from the Forth Fleet, requesting that any and all vessels currently stored there, that could be made operational; should be prepared and made ready for departure once crews had been assembled. 

To say the Commander was a little shocked; may have been regarded as an understatement.  His skin, never all that dark to begin with; was now about two shades lighter.  He’d been told by his superiors back at Starfleet Command, that everything was fine and Task Group 514 had everything under control.  But the tone of the message he’d just read, painted a much darker and more deadly picture.  It was time to act; even if Fleet Admiral Ramar was over reacted to the situation; Bilwat felt he couldn’t afford to take that chance. After all, the Admiral was a fellow Bolian. 

Poking his head out of the office door, the Commander instructed his Deputy to contact all Team Leaders, and have them attend an emergency meeting in one hour from now, in the stations main conference room. 

            **********

Just less than one hour later Commander Bilwat was sat at the top of a large horseshoe shaped, black table, which dominated most of the conference room.  The room itself; was stark and featureless, much like the table.  The carpet; a dark grey, had clearly seen better days and the wall though in light grey; looked in need of some attention.  A couple of Rubber plants and a Fern like plant from the Bolian home world; sat in pots and made a poor showing of brightening up the room.

Bilwat cradled a partially consumed cup of iced Raktajino, when the four team leaders arrived; two of them human; an Andorian, and a Saurian.  Each of them grabbed a drink from the replicator, before taking a seat around the outer edge of the table.  By habit they all sat to the Commanders left; the side of his good eye. 

“So what’s the panic?”Green asked; the female red head and younger of the two humans now present. “You hate meetings at the best of times.” Her comment was light hearted the grin that followed broad. 

The Bolian, leaned forward, placing the cup down carefully. “I’ve had an emergency request from the Forth Fleet, to get what ships we can, operational.”

The four individuals looked at each other, attempting to gauge one another’s reactions; whilst trying to process the news in their own minds. 

“Why?” Was the Andorian’s simple reply; followed by nods of agreement from the rest.

“It would appear, we are potential at war.”  Bilwat let that part sink in for a moment.  “With a very large and powerful Dominion fleet.”

“I thought all that was over and dealt with years ago?”  The calm monotone voice of Brixx came from the far end.  The Saurian blinked twice. “That what we faced now was a minor boarder dispute with a few Breen.” 

“So did everyone else. Or at least that’s what they keep saying.” Bilwat replied solemnly.  The Commander pasted out a Padd to each of them; which they all scanned briefly.  “I’ve give you each a set of vessels to check over.  Take your teams, give the ships the once over and assess what could be up and running in say three to four days.” 

“Any other criteria?”   Kavas, the Andorian, asked.

“Just; that they will need to be fully mobile and combat ready.” Bilwat stated.  “Oh, and assume they’ll operating with minimal crews.  So take that into account, during your checks” 

As the four team leaders filed back out of the room a few minutes later, the Commander took another sip of his drink, and reflected on the situation.   ‘Would he, or any of those who worked under him, be called to help man those ships; once they were re-activated?’  He hadn’t been on the bridge for nine years; not since the explosion in fact.  The scares were gone, the right eye though; would forever be only a third as good as the left.  It just meant that when reading or focusing on certain objects, it was easier to close it than look at a fuzzy image.  He was used to that though. 

            **********

Commander Bilwat sat next to his Jamaican born Deputy; waiting for the first of the reports to come back from his Team Leaders.  He’d been there, an hour at most.  It just seemed much longer.  Eventually, though the information started to filter back from the various teams dotted around the yard, as they reported their initial findings. 

“This is team one.” That was the voice of Kavas coming loud and clear. “That Miranda-class you asked my team to look at.  No go on the Deflector Dish I’m afraid.” 

“Bailey here.  Sorry to butt in” That was the other human; from the meeting, currently in charge of Team three.  “Our Miranda is too messed up, but we can always try removing its dish and at least get one good ship out of the pair.” 

“Sounds like a viable option.”  The Andorian’s replied promptly.

“Ok then, liaise with each other and see what you can do.” Their Commander instructed. 

Another eight or nine minutes past before the distinct voice of Brixx came out of the speaker.  “Team four here.  We’ve got a Akula-class vessel and an Ambassador-class drive section.  Both are in a fair state.”

Bilwat was about to ask were the aforementioned Ambassador’s saucer section was, when a polite cough from his Deputy brought the attention to the fact, he was currently standing on it.  What had once been the front section of a starship was now the upper half of the space-station. 

“Great work Brixx.” The Bolian simply said.  Ripping the base apart wasn’t really an option, and half a starship was better than nothing.  At least he hoped whoever was coming along to collect them, felt the same way.  That just left Green to report in; she was normally much more prompt, which had the Commander wondering what the issue was.  Her shuttle was floating right next to the vessel first on her list; the stations scanners had every vessel, clearly pinpointed and marked, in fact she could quite possibly be docked with it.  So what was the hold up?

Finally her voice cut through the silence. “Erm, you know that Norway-class you’ve got me looking for.  Well it’s not here!” 

“This is not time for jokes.” Barked Bilwat. “You’re standing right on top of the transponder.  How could you miss the damn think?” 

            ********** 

On board a medium sized shuttle craft, along with the rest of her team, Ensign Hayley Green; was indeed standing right on top of the transponder.  Or more correctly she was holding the device in both hands.  “Your right with what you’re saying Sir.” She answered him calmly. “It’s just a shame it’s no longer attached to the rest of the ship.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding me?”  The Commanders voice sounding like a plea.  When she disconnected the battery pack, it was evident the Bolian had just witnessed a 252 meter long vessel magically disappear from the screen in front of him.  The universal translator elected not to translate the expletive he uttered in his own native tongue, a moment or two later.   

Ensign Green turned to the shuttles pilot. “Ok Jeeves, next stop is an Argonaut-class at Holding Station 27.  So step on the gas.” 

The Berellian sat at the controls of the shuttle had no idea who or what the ‘Jeeves’ was and couldn’t figure out how it would be possible to step on gas.  Some of these humans were far too confusing to understand at times.  Knowing the location of Holding Station 27; wasn’t a problem, however. 

Green took her own seat once more as the ship moved off, placing the now non-functioning transponder down on the deck. “One of our Starships is missing.” She said softly to herself.