“New contact, bearing zero-one-nine mark zero. Eight AU, right on the Slow Zone.” Adelinde Gantzmann sounded almost bored as she reported the news that everyone had been waiting for the last thirty minutes. “Multiple contacts,” she added after a brief pause.

“Tactical plot on screen.” Nathan Kennedy had been pacing the bridge slowly, going from station to station, looking over shoulders, offering reassuring looks here and there. “Captain to the bridge.”

By the time Tikva Theodoras emerged from her ready room, Atlantis had transitioned fully to red alert. Lights had dimmed, klaxons had sounded briefly to signify the change in status and throughout the mass of the starship the crew had taken to their stations. Once more Atlantis was ready to fulfil the duty her class had been designed for – to defend the Federation against existential threats.

“I was starting to feel like we were going to get stood up,” Tikva remarked as she joined Nathan at the centre of the bridge. “What are we looking at?”

Nathan’s normally at ease posture was gone, replaced by a purposefully straight back, hands clasped behind him. The embodiment of a naval officer of conflicts past. Likely the imitation of officers he’d served under in previous conflicts. “Twenty-nine contacts so far. One large contact in our weight class, two far larger contacts. The rest are a mix of contacts in the same range as the cruiser that threatened the system and fighters.”

“Oh, so a fair fight then,” Tikva remarked dryly.

“I was thinking we could give First Fleet the day off,” Nathan replied. The air changed, the levity passed. “From the scans Harpy 2 took, this only looks like half of the force detected. No idea on where the rest are right now.”

“I must have missed the executive officer memo about finding clouds to silver linings.” Tikva’s attempt at bringing some of the levity back failed almost immediately. “Gabs, be so kind as to let them know we see them.”

“They’re a bit far out to read the hull plates, but I’m working on it,” the science officer said, never looking away from her station. There was no hiding Atlantis as it sat in Betazed’s orbit, so there was no point in trying to be quiet either. Every sensor platform aboard the ship had one task right now. Every little secret that could be read from half a system away would be in the most unsubtle way imaginable.

As Atlantis began its prying, the Vaadwaur ships began to move on the plot. Ships formed up, cruisers forming a screen in front of both of the large contacts, forming effective sensor screens at this distance. For all the vast capabilities of the ship, all that could be certain was the ships were there, behind the cruisers.

The large contact that looked to be the equal of Atlantis started to resolve on the plot. Longer, heavier, with polaron energy levels that screamed extensive weapon systems. And from what they had on file, and experienced of the Vaadwaur ever so briefly, this ship was built exclusively for war. No space would be given over to labs, or an arboretum, or likely even creature comforts.

Atlantis might have been a heavy hitter, designed to fight the Borg. The Sovereign-class having proved itself against the Dominion when pressed, but this Vaadwaur battleship was just that – a ship with single purpose and use. It was a weapon of war designed to wade in and smash its opponents in with little to no regard to finesse.

And then the sensors started to pick up details about this brute, the metrics on the plot shifting from ‘unknown’ to a complex series of values that started to rapidly evolve as more information came in.

“Guns, what do you make of that?” Tikva asked, turning in the gloom of red alert to face her tactical officer.

“Looks like minor shield instabilities along the battleship’s port side. And the polaran energy emissions along their port side are vastly reduced compared to the starboard.” Gantzmann’s head tilted as she studied her own sensors, fusing with the inputs from Camargo’s own arrays. “I’m seeing similar across multiple ships in that force.”

“Confirmed.” Gabrielle’s pronouncement was accompanied by numerous contacts on that tactical plot being tagged with small exclamation marks. “I’ve got signs of what looks like disruptor fire on just under half of the ships out there. And that big one is moving in at just under full impulse.”

“Still leaves half of them undamaged,” Nathan said, speaking the quiet part out loud.

“And leaves those big, fat suckers too,” Tikva grumbled. “Anything useful about them before the Vaadwaur hid them?”

“Nothing solid,” Gabrielle answered. “Bit bigger than the Eternal Biege and looked like minimal shielding.” Eternal Biege was one of the freighters stuck in orbit of Betazed, trapped not only in the system by the Slow Zone, but by limitations of her civilian drives preventing her from even going to warp within the system. She was one of the mega-freighters that plied the core worlds, capable of swallowing Atlantis and Tizona in her hold with room to spare for a few of Betazed’s orbital defence platforms.

“Siege platforms or troop transports,” Nathan guessed. “Or both.”

By now the plot showed all of the contacts moving in-system, Vaadwaur sensors lighting up Atlantis in return. The larger ships hung back, slowing to half impulse with enough screening ships to keep them mostly hidden. The battleship, its escorts and the fighters continued forward, just under full impulse as they moved to cross the almost 11 AU from the edge of the Slow Zone to Betazed.

“Communications request from Commodore Usino,” Rrr announced from Ops. The Gaen looked a mountain in their seat at the front of the bridge. A reassuring, steadfast presence that knew Atlantis and her systems intimately, ready to direct damage control teams, or reallocate resources as needs be.

“On screen, and get Captain Santisteban as well.” A moment later and the bridge was vastly brighter as the viewscreen pierced the gloom. While Tizona’s bridge was in a similar state, Usino’s office at Planetary Defence was well lit. Modestly appointed as well compared to the other offices Tikva had seen on Betazed so far.

“Captain, Fleet Captain,” Usino said, sounding almost bored, like he was speaking with two old friends about the poor performance of a local sports team. “I see the sensor fusion solution that Commander Velan came up with is working well.”

“I’ll be wanting that shuttle communication package back,” Tikva said, offering a smile. Velan’s solution of bridging the gap between a merely decade old defence system and the more modern sensor systems aboard Atlantis and Tizona, to allow all of the sensors around Betazed to communicate and share information, had been to rip the dedicated communication bundle from one of Atlantis’ shuttles out and send it planet-side. It was meant as a stopgap until something better could be built, but as Velan had said ‘necessity is the mother of invention.’

“There’s a not insignificant number of them out there,” Sofia Santisteban said from Tizona. She looked nervous, but holding firm for now. “What’s the play, boss?”

“Did your engineers get those warp drive modifications completed?” Tikva asked.

Santisteban nodded her head. “Colman doesn’t think we can achieve your speeds in this mess, but certainly better than when we first arrived. He thinks we might be able to push warp four, maybe four-five. If we don’t blow a coil.”

“Err on the side of caution,” Tikva warned. “Feel like pulling a bit of heat off of us?”

“Blindside? You don’t want to save it for later?” Santisteban asked.

“I’d rather they fret on the approach, then ignore sensor contacts in the heat of a fight later.” Tikva grinned, though her eyes were anything but. “Nip out to Zeta IV and enact Blindside. If it works, hold your position as long as you can before heading back to the barn. If it doesn’t work, swing out at warp and get eyes on those big transports, then head on back.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Usino said, his voice a lazy purr.

“Naturally,” Tikva answered.

“While I would love to have some Strategema worthy battle plan, I am forced to admit I have a rather passive role in all of this. But, if the distance between the Vaadwaur lead elements and those transports opens up any further, might you consider sallying forth, Fleet Captain, and making a run against what are obviously valuable assets?”

“Assuming they are transports,” Gantzmann said from behind Tikva. “Ma’am, we need to confirm what those ships are before we consider any form of strike. And, should we decide to abandon orbit, we would be leaving Betazed to be defended purely by an under-manned defence network.”

“I concede the need to confirm what those larger ships are,” Usino answered. “But should a strike be possible, I’m sure my women and men can hold these people at bay long enough for Atlantis and Tizona to return. I won’t let Betazed fall like it did in the Dominion War.”

“Neither will I, Commodore.”

“Same here,” Santisteban said, echoing Tikva’s sentiment. “We’ll get you that information. Tizona out.” And with that, one of the faces on the viewscreen disappeared.

“She seems eager,” Usino said with a smile. “I wish you luck, cousin.” It was the first time he had ever acknowledged any form of familial connection with Tivka. “Four goddesses go with you.”

“And you, Commodore.”

And then the bridge once more plunged into darkness as Usino’s bright office disappeared, the viewscreen returning to the tactical plot.

Silence settled over the bridge like a heavy blanket, even the news of Tizona going to warp as it sprinted to the innermost gas giant, going unmentioned. And then Tikva’s fingers started wrapping across her armrest, loud enough to be heard over the gentle whir of environmental systems and computers faintly chirping. Silence that stretched and stretched.

“Okay, that’s it,” Tikva said, breaking an eternity of just over a minute. “Nathan, we need some music.”

“Music, ma’am?”

“Music,” Tikva answered. “Something moody. Something we can broadcast loud and clear for all to hear. Something that says we’re not afraid.”

“Like you did at Deneb,” Nathan stated. “Kolar Blight, third album. Cayuga Suckerpunch, I think.” A few heads around the bridge nodded in acceptance, a few shoulders slumped in despair. But the one person on the bridge who’s opinion really mattered just looked at him confused. “You’ve never heard Cayuga Suckerpunch?”

“No,” Tikva answered. “Should I?”

“It’s classic post-modern acid punk,” Nathan replied. “Computer, play Cayuga Suckerpunch, all subspace channels.” He smiled. “Trust me, everyone is going to be confused as hell by this.”