The first official day on Deep Space 12 began with optimism. That only lasted almost twelve minutes.
Deep Space 12 may have been Chen’s command, but as divisional commander, Mathias had an office entirely too close to Operations. While the two roles occasionally overlapped, Chen knew that she could usually keep him under control, subtly of course, and he knew better than to get in her way when she was determined.
By 0815 hours, Chen had already signed twenty-seven requests, approved two emergency maintenance projects, and authorized temporary docking for a convoy of civilian freighters delayed by ion storms.
Mathias had politely declined an invitation to breakfast from a visiting Federation trade commissioner he had never met. His coffee had gone cold before he’d taken a second sip, and the station had only been awake for a few hours.
Operations was full of life, with tactical displays monitoring the surrounding sectors while communications officers routed calls between Starfleet Command. The large holographic display at the center of Ops showed hundreds of vessels moving through the Algox System.
A chime interrupted Mathias’ thoughts. “Captain Chen is here.”
“Send her in.”
Liora entered carrying three padds beneath one arm and her face suggested her day was progressing no better than his. She placed the padds on his desk. “I need your authorization.”
“For?”
“Engineering wants to shut down Habitat Ring Three for six hours. The foreign delegations are protesting. Gence your authorization.”
He blinked. “Why?”
“They found a plasma conduit that’s been running eighty-two percent over tolerance for the last eighteen months.”
“Eighteen months?”
“The previous commander kept postponing repairs.”
He rubbed his forehead. “What happens if we don’t?”
“It eventually explodes.”
“And if we do?”
“We displace four hundred civilians while repairs are completed.”
Shaw looked out across Operations. “We’ve been here less than a day.”
Chen smiled. “I know.”
She turned to leave. “Oh… Dock Operations also needs another cargo berth.”
“And?”
“We don’t have one.”
Several decks below, Commander Hannah Kincaid stood at the center of Dock Operations. Transparent displays surrounded her in every direction. Incoming freighters. Departing transport. Maintenance schedules. Customs inspections. Cargo priorities.
Every berth glowed either yellow or red. Nothing was green. “Status?”
Commander Hale didn’t even look up. “Seven ships holding outside the perimeter.”
“Estimated wait?”
“Three hours.”
Kincaid frowned. “Why?”
“Because Berth Nine has a Ferengi merchant refusing customs inspection.”
“Why?”
“He says we’re violating his rights.”
She sighed. “Security?”
“They’re negotiating.”
“How long?”
“They’re Ferengi.”
She closed her eyes for exactly one second. “I’ll go.”
Across the station, Commander David Okoye looked through the large windows of Flight Operations. Civilian traffic looked nothing like Starfleet formations. Here, everyone wanted priority.
A young lieutenant approached. “Commander?”
“Yes?”
“We’ve received four requests for emergency landing clearance.”
“Medical?”
“No.”
“Mechanical failure?”
“No.”
“What kind of emergency?”
The lieutenant hesitated. “They’re all late for diplomatic meetings.”
Okoye smiled. “…Denied.”
Commander Mateo Alvarez had barely unpacked his office. His desk was buried under invitations. Trade agreements. Security briefings. Reception requests. Three ambassadors waited outside.
His assistant peeked through the door. “Commander?”
“Yes?”
“The Romulan Ambassador has arrived.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“And the Klingons.”
He nodded.
“And the Ferengi commercial delegation.”
Another nod.
She smiled. “They’ve each requested to be seen first.”
Alvarez sighed. “They’ve never met one another, have they?”
“No, sir.”
“They’re about to.”
Commander Elias Rourke found his laboratory surprisingly quiet. Until Emily Rodriguez walked in carrying a stack of research requests nearly half a meter tall.
“They’re all marked urgent.”
He stared at the pile. “How many science departments do we have?”
Emily smiled. “More than you had before,” she paused. “Sir.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She placed another padd on top. “That’s the request to establish a joint research initiative with the Romulan Free State.”
He looked at the growing stack. “When do I actually get to do science?”
Emily considered the question. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”
By evening, the senior staff gathered in the Officer’s Club. Nobody looked relaxed. Coffee replaced celebration. The room was oddly quiet, that is until Shaw finally spoke. “Well…”
Nobody answered.
Chen stirred her tea. “I approved three hundred and twelve requests today.”
Kincaid laughed. “I denied four hundred.”
“I mediated an argument,” Alvarez said, “between a Klingon and a Vulcan.”
Everyone looked at him. “Who won?”
“I honestly couldn’t tell.”
Even Shaw smiled.
Okoye leaned back. “Can I go back to the Montgomery?”
That drew laughter. For the first time all day, the room felt lighter. Shaw looked around the table. Just a week earlier, every person sitting there had commanded a ship or held a senior position aboard one. They now commanded departments. Not because they had failed. Because they all agreed to follow Mathias.
He wasn’t sure he believed it yet. Judging by the faces around the table, neither did they. He lifted his coffee mug. “To surviving Day One.”
Glasses and mugs rose around the table. “Day One.”
