The office aboard Deep Space 11 was unmarked and unremarkable. Smooth duranium walls gleamed under stark white lighting. Power relays deep within the station provided a slight audible hum. A desk stretched lengthwise beneath a darkened panel viewport was organized to the point of sterility. Two data PADDs were stacked perfectly alongside a single monitor. A mug full of replicated coffee sat nearly full. This was a room for bureaucratic efficiency, not hospitality.

Commander Erica Tute sat behind the desk, her broad figure shaped by years of sedentary work. The lines around her pale green eyes had deepened with age and long duty shifts. Delicate creases of both worry and laughter stood out under the sterile light. Long, graying hair was pinned into a neatly twisted bun. Her face held the expression of someone who had read too many reports and seen too many young officers get laid to rest. She glanced at the door as the chime sounded.

It hissed open to reveal a tall Bajoran officer in command reds. His uniform looked freshly pressed. Captain Raku’s obsidian hair had grown longer on the sides since he’d taken control of the Brawley. Styling gel gave his hair an almost reflective sheen. His long, gaunt facial features seemed to hover near exhaustion. His body tightened slightly as he stepped in.

“Captain Raku Mobra,” he said, his voice giving off signs of confusion as he continued. “You requested me, Commander?” The lanky man stood in the doorway to stop it from closing.

Erica rose just enough to nod. “Come in, Captain.”

He stepped forward, letting it seal behind him with a soft hiss. His dark eyes glanced across the room as he made his way towards her desk.

She gave a small shake of her head. “No. You’re right on time. Please sir, have a seat.”

He settled into the chair across from her, shoulders straight and formal.

Erica folded her hands together. “You’ve been reassigned, Captain.”

That made him blink. He leaned forward just slightly as his brow furrowed. “Reassigned? I just got to the Brawley. We’ve barely—”

“I know,” she interrupted in a calm, firm voice. “This wasn’t a casual decision made by the higher ups. My team reviewed performance metrics, mission data and crew reports from across the fleet. We sent them to Starfleet HQ. What the Brawley accomplished out there was well beyond expectations.”

Mobra stayed silent behind an unreadable expression. His internal thoughts tried to comprehend the thought of being assigned to a new crew. His senior officers had grown close over the ordeal. A wash of guilt pinged him as he thought of those who were lost under his command. A speech he gave to the ship’s enlisted officer’s replayed internally. He just told them he would be there to support them after everything they went to. The thought of leaving them just to get a more prestigious assignment was surprisingly painful.

“You coordinated a three-party operation between the Klingon Defense Force, the Orion Space Navy, and Starfleet.” Erica spoke in a plain tone as she stated the facts. “You oversaw the emergency repair of a Vor’cha-class impulse manifold under active threat conditions. The Votaragh survived long enough to help collapse two Vaadwaur depots because of that, although she was lost with all hands. You rescued the Morro Bay and helped them return home after a hostage situation. You still even managed to stabilize the terraforming systems on Vaabanth IV, the originally assigned mission. You even led the liberation of Vaabanth III from Vaadwaur occupation without breaching the pre-warp status of its population.”

Raku exhaled. “It was survival. We did what we had to do.” He knew there was no way the Vaadwaur’s interaction hadn’t warped the people of Vaabanth III. Talk of the Votaragh sparked more sensitivity. His mind replayed the way the Klingon vessel circled the convoy before going in alone. They could have taken it out together. Mobra fought to regain his focus.

“You did your job,” Tute said as her eyes warmed kindly. She could see the Captain’s tension through his distracted eyes. “That’s exactly why you’re being reassigned. You took on the enemy with a Utility explorer armed about as much as a long-range shuttle. Yet you accomplished more than ships thrice the power of your class.”

“I don’t want a medal,” Mobra admitted quietly. “I didn’t ask for recognition. We were just doing what Task Force 21 needed.”

She allowed a small smile. “We know. That’s why you’ve been chosen to command the USS Cardinal.”

Raku’s eyes rose. He didn’t speak. The Cardinal stood out to him as one of the first vessels his ship scanned aboard arrival. All of the thoughts about those lost and the weight of responsibility danced in his mind. A starship like her was staffed with a crew compliment of up to 850. This meant there was an even greater amount of lives he was now responsible for.

Tute leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “A Nebula-class vessel, Captain. She’s a big, broad platform. The Cardinal’s built for a wide range of assignments. We need somebody like you in the command chair.”

The Captain sat back slowly as his ridged nose tightened with thought. A nervous finger strummed the bridge of it. “I’m intrigued, Commander.” Excitement began to build in his voice. The coals of his irises regained their clarity, as he felt a sense of drive begin to stir. His pupils shrank and tightened as distractions were replaced with a flurry of ideas.

Erica nodded. “Sensor pod variant. You’ll have astrophysics, environmental science, xenobotany, and a small civilian terraforming support team aboard. Her mission can shift to starfighter operations or medical response by switching her pods. Your role will always be evolving. The entire Fourth Fleet is upgrading. After the Vaadwaur assault, us analysts realized how stretched the fleet was. Attacks spanned both Alpha and Beta Quadrants. Numberous colony worlds were invaded. attacks. There widespread nature of the casualties was”, Erica began to break. She lost so many good friends, dating back to her time at the Academy.

Like Ensign Kian Harol, she felt her own sense of survivor’s guilt. She didn’t have her friend literally stand in her place like he did, but here friends were out there exploring while she did safe work like this.

He looked past her for a moment. “Too many were lost.” They both stared in the distance.

“And we’re going to lose more if we don’t change”, Erica said. They suddenly snapped back into eye contact.

Commander Tute tapped a control screen. The LCARS wall display shimmered to show a three-dimensional schematic of the Nebula-class Cardinal. The image rotated, zoomed in, then expanded to reveal the round sensor pod mounted atop the curved frame of the vessel.

“The Cardinal is a scientific vessel with defensive range,” she began. “That sensor pod? It gives you just over an entire sector’s worth of scanning resolution. Microscopic. You’ll catch things others miss. Anomalies, spatial distortions, pre-warp signals, signs of cloaked activity. Your crew will see everything that doesn’t belong.”

Raku leaned forward. “An early warning system, eh?”

“And an explorer. Your xenobotany and environmental science teams will coordinate with terraformers for new colony sites. Your astrophysics division will study nearby stellar phenomena. Some will be dangerous, others could prove groundbreaking. Your medical response team will handle colony-scale crises. That pod can be swapped out to make things happen. Hospital. Fighter support. There’s a team working on a dedicated Terraforming pod, but that’s still far from completion.”

He swallowed. “Flexible mission profile. I understand now.”

“Exactly. You’ll operate along contested and unstable borders. The edge of Breen space. Frontier Federation settlements lacking infrastructure. Wherever Task Force 21 needs her flanks guarded.”

“What if there’s conflict?” Raku asked. “What if exploration turns into fire again?”

“You’ll be ready,” she said quietly. “The Cardinal only has six Type-X phasers. But she’s large enough to power strong shields. You’ll also be able to spot most enemies enough to stay out of their way. Your role is not a combat vessel, but you should be able to defend yourselves.”

He stared at the rotating, holographic schematic. “We can use science as a shield.”

“Yes,” Commander Tute said. “And as a torch. You’ll bring aid, Captain. Relief. Your crew will uplift struggling colonies. You’ll upgrade facilities on remote moonscapes. Member worlds need your help to recover, or even become members in the first place.”

Raku’s lips parted. “Fifth contact is just as important as First Contact.”

Her voice spoke low and pensively. “You’ve seen the worst. Now we’re asking you to help build something better.” She read his personnel file and knew he lived through the Breen attack on the Colony of Free Haven as a child. The Cardinal would spend a great deal of time peering past the Breen border.

The light glinted off his dark eyes as he blinked. “And my crew?”

“Some of them will be transferring. You’ll be given options to recruit others. Priority should be given to those with frontier experience or officers who served with you on the Brawley. Lieutenant T’Naagi has already volunteered.”

He smiled faintly. “Of course she has.” His eyes warmed as he thought of her. She was honest, never hesitating to share her opinions. Sometimes she spoke out a bit too much. A genuine sense of concern always seemed behind it. The almond eyed Orion certainly had a large heart.

“Your new orders will be revealed shortly,” she continued. “But once the Cardinal is underway, your patrol will move slowly back towards the Breen border.”

He looked down at the display of the Cardinal again. This was a ship made to see what others could not.

“And the hospital pod?”

“On standby,” she said. “Let’s hope you never need it.”

He looked back up. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You are,” she said as she stood. “You’ve already been doing stuff like this through the Brawley’s response assignments. Now you get the tools that match your skill.”

He rose with her. The lines of his jaw tightened in silent resolution. He bowed his head slightly in respect. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Good luck, Captain.”

He turned toward the door before pausing with a turn. “You said the Fourth Fleet is evolving. Do you really think that’s enough to stop the worst of the Galaxy?”

She hesitated. “No. But we think this is how we survive what comes next.”

“I’m really excited about this”, the Captain said in a pensive voice that didn’t match his words. “It’s just a lot to plan for. The size of a Nebula’s crew is much larger. These missions are so much more complex.” For thirty seconds, Mobra wished he was staying on the Brawley. Such thoughts did him no good. With a long blink and swallowed gulp, he fought to push the former ship from his mind. Thoughts that his staff was coming made it easier

“Understood. I should start informing my crew right away. Thanks so much for your candor. I do sincerely appreciate you and the Flag Officers back at Headquarters.”

“Best of luck to your new beginnings, Captain.” A smile finally formed along the Bajoran’s face as he turned towards the exit.

The door hissed open as Captain Raku Mobra walked out, lost in his thoughts.

=/\=Thirty Minutes Later=/\=

The officers’ lounge aboard Deep Space 11 was a vast, cathedral-like space layered with sights and sounds that overwhelmed the senses. Rows of massive viewports framed the dizzying starscape beyond in silvers against the never-ending blackness.

A culinary team stirred steam-plumed dishes behind a food counter. They joked loudly over the murmur of bubbling pots. Across the room, a group of Tellarite engineers playfully argued over a tri-dimensional chess board while a Vulcan sipped silently from a cup of spiced tea. A group of Caitians lounged near the starboard wall. Their furry figures gathered around a viewport as their tails slowly swished. Two Humans on a date sat quietly eating as the roar of the room surrounded them.

Captain Mobra Raku sat upright as he absorbed the shifting activity of the lounge. Eyes sat low and tired above his ridged nose. Commander Marlon Smythe looked far more at ease alongside him. He seemed full of energy as he sliced through the soft interior of a spiced root pie. The aroma of herbs and roasting vegetables wafted between them as they paused in their meals with forks half-raised.

“Feels like shore leave every time we come through here,” Smythe said before chewing through a bite of flaky crust.

Raku smiled faintly as he speared a sliver of smoked fish. “We need less war and fewer patrols to come here more often.”

Smythe reached for a sparkling tonic with a faint citrus bite. “Don’t tempt me, Captain.” His dark hand grasped the glass and took a long swig.

They ate comfortably, the quiet between bites broken by the distant trill of an Andorian flute player starting a new piece on the opposite side of the lounge. Mobra’s attention was elsewhere. His gaze fixed on the table, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“I spoke with Commander Tute this morning,” he said.

Smythe glanced up. “Trouble?”

“No. A transfer.”

Smythe stiffened. “They’re pulling you?”

“I’m being reassigned,” Raku clarified. “And I’m taking you with me. All of you.”

Smythe’s eyes widened. “Wait.. What?”

Raku leaned forward and spoke a little quieter. “The USS Cardinal. Nebula-class. We leave within the week.”

Smythe sat back, quickly forgetting his meal. “Nebula-class? You’re serious?” He set down his fork.

“I am. She’s fitted with a high-capacity sensor pod,” Raku continued. “Deep field scanning, whole-sector precision. She’s been on the list for redeployment since the Vaadwaur assault.”

“That’s amazing,” Smythe said as he shook his head wide eyed. “What’s the mission?”

“Mixed,” Raku replied. “Exploration, scientific support, and frontier stability. The Cardinal’s role will be to expand Starfleet’s sensor net along the Breen border. Monitor threats before they surface. We’ll support terraforming projects and colonies that lack defense infrastructure as we make our way up and down that route. And when things fall apart—”

“We pick up the pieces.” Commander Smythe lifted his fork again. He tried to visualize what life would be like aboard a Nebula.

Raku nodded.

Smythe slowly scooped a piece of crust into his mouth as he chewed through the surprise. After he swallowed the bite, he licked his teeth and spoke. “Well, I’m in. Of course I’m in. But you know, Captain. The name Cardinal is a nod to history.”

Raku arched a curious brow.

Smythe pulled a small PADD from his pocket. “The old U.S. Navy had a tradition of naming mine-clearing vessels after birds.” He tapped rapidly before holding it up with a grin. “Four minesweepers in Earth’s naval records had the same name. Twentieth and twenty-first centuries. They used sonar and magnetic detection sweeps in maritime operations. Look, this one was transferred to Brazil.

Raku allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of his lips. “Appropriate then, I guess.”

These ships traveled the planet. It’s so fitting. It says the navies of the United Kingdom and New Zealand also had a bird boat tradition.” Smythe tapped the side of the device. “This one’s my favorite namesake. The MHC-60. A coastal mine hunter. Sensors first, everything else second. She was transferred to Egypt from old America.”

“We’re continuing the traditions,” Raku said as he sipped from his cup of plum tea. “The only difference is the scale. Our Cardinal’s scope stretches a few hundred light-years instead of a harbor mouth.”

“Our enemies are smarter than sea mines,” Smythe added with a grim chuckle.

“We’ll also be using that pod to scout for anything that could pose a danger to the fleet. We might push pretty far up along the Breen border. We’ll need to scout for any hazardous scientific anomalies along the way. The Captain took another bite and chewed.

Marlon stirred his fork in the savory pie’s filling. “What other kinds of roles can we take on? I heard Nebulas can swap pods out in a week.”

“We have a fighter pod on standby,” Raku replied. “Even when we use those, our mission focus is electronic warfare and sensor coverage. The fighters can extend our scanning grid when we don’t have the sensor pod by acting as relay and tracking assets. Think long-range eyes and fast intercepts, not most ship-to-ship engagements.”

Smythe nodded and swirled his drink. “That makes sense. It’s about all about information. Task Force 21 can use an asset like this.”

Raku sat back and folded his arms. “Commander Tute and I said the same thing. The fleet’s adapting. The Cardinal is just one step.

The lounge pulsed with sound and life around them. A Bolian chef flambéed a dish in front of a crowd of giggling Ensigns. A pair of Ferengi negotiated over a small data crystal. They were all there for different reasons, pulled from different cultures and sectors. They were all part of the same long current pushing outward.

Smythe looked over the room. “You know what I like about the Cardinal already?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s proactive. We’re finding fractures before they become break bones. We’re not chasing threats. We’re charting them before they cause harm.”

Raku nodded slowly. “We’re a quiet, solid bulwark.” The double stacked domes constituted by the saucer and pod gave the Cardinal a fitting shield-like appearance.

The Bajoran captain picked at the final piece of his fish. “We’ve seen what happens when we arrive too late. Hopefully next time, we’re early.” Raku swallowed his fish with a tight gulp and looked down as his mind replayed the image of the Astika cruiser and two Manasa escorts leaving the initial aperture and firing on the Brawley. Threats as sudden as that were no match for a lone Nebula, far out in space.

The two men sat in silence for a moment as the hum of starbase life swirled around them. Smythe spoke next. “What about the crew? Are they coming too?”

“Most are,” Raku answered. “Those who wish to transfer are welcome aboard. I expect most will. I’m also bringing almost all of our senior officers. After what happened at Vaabanth III and IV, and after the Morro Bay? We’ve forged something. The fleet wants to keep that cohesion intact.”

Smythe grinned. “Well. You’ve just made my week.”

“Good. Now finish your pie.”

With a hearty laugh, Smythe obeyed and scooped up the last few bites.

The stars beyond the windows shimmered faintly. A luminous glow arced across the hull of a passing freighter as it drifted past the lounge’s viewport. It angled away from the station, sailed off into the distance at half impulse and disappeared into a warp flash.