“Tch tch.” The man clicked at the single Draft horse that was hooked up to a walking plow via chains connected to the tug, that was connected to the collar. The man had the lines wrapped around the palms of his hands, while he gripped the handles of the walking plow tightly. While the horse dragged the plow, the man guided it carefully into the field. Sweat ran in beads down all over his face and body. Several beads would drip from the tip of his nose, beard, knuckles and even his eye lids whenever he blinked. While he wore jeans that were nicely snug around his waist, the suspenders were dangling alongside his legs, as he had removed his shirt and tossed it over the fence hours ago.

As they neared the end of the field, he quickly called out to the horse. “Haw!” And the horse started to turn left. He repeated this command, and used various other commands to stop and re-orientate the horse and plow, before they continued their work, so that he would begin to plow a new line alongside the one that was recently done. As they slowly progressed the large field, the man looked past the horse, past the wooden fence, towards the side of the barn that was suddenly displaced by a familiar arch. Then a familiar door frame, with the pair of heavy doors split apart to reveal an individual.

“Mmm.” He grunted. The man was careful to not tilt his head back too much, as he did not want his own beads of sweat make it to his eyes. But he knew who it was, as their features was hard to miss. Blonde hair in a pony tail, curves in all the right places, but a little thick. He would happily continue his pursuit in a romantic relationship with the woman, if he had not been given command of this ship. Priorities.

At least she was patient enough to wait for him to reach her, while he continued to guide the plow all the way to that end of the field. “Whoa.” He commanded the horse before he released the handles.

“How long have you been in here, Bruce?” The woman asked.

He licked his lips to form an answer, while he unwrapped the lines from his hands. “Since the engines stopped working, Casey.”

He saw her eyes widen and he knew what she was about to say but he raised his hand to keep her from saying it. He walked up to the horse and gave him gentle pats to his cheeks and scratches under the jaw line. “Good boy.” Bruce spoke softly into the horse’s ear, before he approached the fence. He stared into Casey’s eyes, where he could see that she was waiting for his answer. He was ever so lucky that she had an over abundance of patience, as he leaned down to the bottom of the fence post, where he had a bottle of Saurian Brandy, only half full. Or half empty in Casey’s view point. “I think you already know the answer.” He grunted, as he unscrewed the cap and took a rather long drink.

“That was two days ago, Bruce! Have you ever stopped to consider that your issues with sleeping is the amount of alcohol you drink?” Casey asked him.

He lowered the now empty bottle, as he gulped down the rest of it. He screwed the cap back on and tossed it into a wooden barrel just a few feet away from him. “No nightmares. No pain. Better this way.”

“Not when you have a job to do, Commander Henson.” Casey sighed.

The top rail of the fence was about chest high, so when he rested his arms on top, with his hands clasped together, he placed his chin on top of his hands, as his eyes had never left hers since the moment he began to stare into them. “Tell that to our former superiors that were slaughtered by the Borg.”

He saw her give in, her eyes closed and an even heavier sigh, one of defeat, escape her lips as she turned slightly so she could lean her left arm into the fence post. “I know you tried very hard, and bravely, to protect our captain on the last ship. But we had visited every doctor, physical therapists, everyone…there is no nerve damage at or around your shoulder of where you were shot.” He watched her turn her head so her eyes locked onto his. “It is all in your head, Bruce.”

He pushed himself off the top of the fence and stared hard into her eyes. “Tell that to my shoulder.” With that, he saw her pull away and began to head for the door.

“Whatever you say, Commander. By the way. They fixed the engines over a day ago. We’re just approaching Four-Fifteen. I suggest you hurry and get cleaned up before your first meeting with the Squadron Commander.” Said Casey before she made it into the corridor and took a turn towards the left.

He cursed under his breath. “Good going, Bruce. Just make her hate you even more, why don’t you?” He said to himself as he climbed over the fence and made his way out of the holodeck.

“Computer. Save and end program.”

Fleet Captain Gerald Hunt, who slowly walked around the elongated briefing room table, with each step with his left foot, he had his cane in his left hand, pressed into the floor where he lightly leaned into it. Ever so gradually he would try to put more pressure into his left foot than into the cane. It was a slow healing process, but it was one he intended to overcome. He certain did not expect to be back here, at this station, under a much different assignment.

While the command of ‘Four-Fifteen’ was not entirely a surprise, the command of a whole squadron was. While the Sovereign still remained attached to Four-Fifteen, he had the opportunity to read up on each new commanding officer of the three vessels that were just recently attached to his squadron. The Echelon, an Echelon-class starship. The Decker, a Shran-class starship. Then lastly, the Tokyo, a New Orleans-class starship. All commanded by Commander’s, who in a year or so may make the rank of Captain’s some day, but unfortunately for Hunt, he gets to make that decision whether to nominate them or not. Fortunately for him, it is not his final call. Or is that supposed to be the other way around? Fortunately and then unfortunately?

Hunt chuckled softly with a slight shrug of his shoulders as he set the PADD down on his end of the table.

“Sir?”

Hunt blinked and then looked towards the left to see both Commander Nathan Ford of the Echelon and Commander Raven Reade of the Decker. Commander Bruce Henson had yet to make his appearance, as from what Hunt was told, Tokyo was running late due to engine trouble. “Pardon me. Was a stray thought.”

“Funny how that happens, right, Captain?” Reade asked, where he saw a sly smile on her face.

Hunt chuckled again with a smirk. “Indeed, Commander.” He then took a deep breath before he set his cane down against the table, and placed his hands on the top of his chair as he stood behind it. “There really is no point for us to continue to wait for Commander Henson, as both of you two will have-” He was suddenly interrupted when the door at the far end opened and entered the man himself. Commander Bruce Henson.

“My apologies, sir. We had-”

“Engine trouble,” Hunt interrupted. “I know. Your First Officer informed Ops when the trouble began, remember?” He heard Bruce clear his throat before he nodded his head.

“Yes, of course, sir.”

Hunt paused as he stared Bruce down for a moment before he gestured a chair literally right next to Hunt’s spot. He wanted a better scope of the man, as he watched Bruce made his way, just to pull the chair out and place his rear into the seat. Once Bruce had scooted himself up to the table, Hunt could smell a hint of Saurian Brandy.

“As I was about to say. I have different assignments for the Echelon and Decker versus the Tokyo. Sovereign has not returned to Federation space. After the whole situation with the underspace and their tunnels,” Hunt looked down at the PADD for the correct terms and then he just ignored them as he continued. “Starfleet was able to determine that, while many of those tunnels have remained intact, they had also changed their entry, exit or both points. The Talarians’ indicated that they lost contact with the Sovereign before they reached Talarian space, somewhere in this sector.” Hunt pressed a button on the PADD and it displayed a small regional galactic map where SB-415 was labeled in the corner of the map and a marker was placed of where the Sovereign‘s transponder had ceased.

“The Talarians had sent a ship and with all the data scans from many Starfleet vessels, the data was obviously shared, the Talarians confirmed that the entry point that the Sovereign encountered, was gone. There is also another possibility. While many of these tunnels may have changed their end points, some have completely collapsed.” Hunt explained before he pressed the button on the PADD that removed the holographic image. “That being said, I received word from Deep Space Nine, that the transceivers in the Gamma Quadrant have picked up the Sovereign just a week ago. She is heading for the wormhole, but several attempts at long range communications with the ship have failed. We have reason to believe that her long range comm systems are offline. She also appears to be traveling at warp six point six. That is almost two factors below her cruising speed, which we also suspect damage to her warp drive.”

Hunt then looked at Commander Reade and Commander Ford. “Both the Echelon and Decker will head directly to Deep Space Nine. If the Sovereign is not there, you have already been authorized to travel through the wormhole. Once you are on the other side, head straight for the Sovereign and assist her and her crew as best as you can. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Said Reade.

“Understood, sir.” Said Ford.

“You two are dismissed,” Hunt ordered before he turned his gaze to Bruce that sat before him. As he watched both Commander’s leave the briefing room through is peripheral vision, he then began to pull his chair away from the table. Once Hunt had seated himself into his chair and pulled himself up to the edge, his gaze never left Bruce’s eyes, he contemplated on what he wanted to say to the man. Hunt had read Bruce’s file, he knew that before he was given command of the Tokyo, which had it’s own unfortunate history with its last Captain, that Bruce had taken a phaser at a very high setting to the shoulder. Unfortunately that phaser bolt went through Bruce and struck the very person that Bruce had tried to protect with his own body. His commanding officer. Right in the chest, a direct heart shot. There literally was nothing Bruce or anyone could of done.

And yet, here is the man, in command of the very ship that Hunt had planned to be used as Four-Fifteen’s support vessel, and the smell of booze was faint. So Hunt was contemplating on how he was going to handle this. He should report it, by rules and regulations and the fact that he was recently made Fleet Captain after surviving the whole Borg incident, and the fact that he recovered after surgery…he must report this. But he won’t. Mistake, as it may be, Hunt believed in second chances and this man was certainly given a big one when he survived a phaser and his captain did not.

Hunt took a deep breath. “One of Federation’s freighters had departed from this station a few days ago. It was carrying supplies vital for a colony that was recently put together. It’s only a few lightyears from here, but the freighter should of made it there yesterday.”

“Safe to assume that it has not?” Bruce asked.

Hunt paused as he could smell it more on the man’s breath. But he could also smell a very strong odor of coffee. No. Espresso? Perhaps two, maybe three shots. The man sure tried. “Correct. Our relays help expand our long range sensors and they have detected the freighter dangerously close to Tholian space. We do not know why it is there, but they are not answering hails. Again, like the Sovereign, we like to assume that they lost power, or lost communications, maybe even had navigation failure and just stopped to try to repair it before they crossed the line. Either way, as Starfleet, it is our job to investigate when things fall out of norm.”

Hunt watched as Bruce nodded his head. “I understand, sir. You want Tokyo to head for the freighter and see what we can do to assist them.”

“And if necessary, pull them further away from the border. The Tholians get very…timid is not the right word…disturbed, apprehensive…point is, they will be contacting their ambassador on this station, who will complain to our ambassador, who will complain to me. You know the old saying, to put it appropriately, problems often flow from the top down.” Hunt explained and he could see it in Bruce’s eyes that he understood what other term Hunt was referring to.

“We will depart immediately, Captain,” said Bruce.

As Hunt watched Bruce get up from his seat, he cleared his throat rather loudly to get the man’s attention. “And Commander. If you happen to have any more of that Saurian Brandy on board the Tokyo, I would like it if you left the rest of it here on the station. For our VIPs, of course.” Hunt saw the look in Bruce’s eyes when he dropped the hint on the man.

He heard the commander clear his throat before he nodded his head. “Of course, Captain. It will be done.”

Hunt smiled at Bruce. “Splendid, Mr. Henson. You are dismissed.”