Roosevelt Station

Ops

“Commander.” Barlan Vo, the Bajoran sitting center chair, looked up as Eden stepped through the large doors and into the station’s beating heart. “Commodore Ekwueme contacted the station five minutes ago. He said he wanted to talk to you.”

“Thank you. I’ll take it in my office. Ops remains yours,” Eden said, crossing the chamber behind the command chair – an act that, from her understanding, had been a capital offense when the station was held by the Breen. Just another little act of defiance to her long-missing enemy.

She took her seat at her desk, squirming around a bit to find comfort in the too-soft chair before activating her viewscreen. “Contact Commodore Ekwueme,” she said.

It was startling how quickly the call was answered, and the chiseled features of the Commodore appeared on her screen. “Commander Enigma. Good to have you back. Saw your report already… if you’d left ten minutes later, you’d have received an alert that we were finding Omega across Federation space.”

Eden blinked. “We were running radio silent, Commodore, so this is the first I’ve heard of it. How are…”

“Contained, for the moment being, though that could change at any time. We believe we have tracked the source of the Omega to a world called Horizon, just past the Galactic Barrier. It was put there by the Tkon.”

“My Hazard Team found a Tkon artifact on Garen Minos, sir. A disk. Initial analysis indicates that it came from the Cardassian home system, and that there we may be able to learn where to find the door it opens.”

“Then your mission is clear, Commander. Get to Cardassia, find that map, follow it. We need all the information about the Tkon we can get. I’ll send briefing packets on what we know so far. Omega Directive is still in effect, but you can read whoever you need in on the Tkon. Our priority is to learn whatever we can about Horizon, and that supercedes all other concerns.”

“I’ll do my best not to get us into a war, Commodore,” Eden said.

“If the choice is between data on Horizon and peace with the Cardassians, Commander, we lose the peace and deal with the consequences when we’re done ending this crisis. All understood?”

Omega Directive. Like Whalesong, but for now. “Yes, sir.”

“Very good. There’s no ships we can spare from the crisis to get you to Cardassia, Commander, so you’ll have to find your own way. Command out.”

Eden sank into her seat. I’m going to have to hope that Malen or Lagashi Command can spare me something. Or maybe that we capture some sort of pirate vessel today. “Computer, contact Gul Malen of the Eighth Order.”