While many believed a starship’s command centre to be the most important place on the ship, those who knew anything about starship design knew that all the power, all the importance, and all the interesting stuff happened in engineering. Whether it was the warp core, or the shields, or the weapons, or the sensors, or the communications systems, or the… well, it didn’t matter which of the thousands of systems it was, everything on the ship had the potential to make or break a mission. And that was what made engineering so exciting for Prida Rala, especially on a ship like Prometheus.

A technological marvel back in the mid-seventies, with Starfleet embroiled in a bitter war with the Dominion, she was still a complicated beast nearly twenty-six years later. A stream of refits and repairs over the decades had made her an even more complicated mess, but underneath the sticking plasters and the patches, she was still the same wondrous creation. Whilst one starship was complex in and of itself, Prometheus was practically three individual, warp-capable starships all rolled into one, making her not only one of the most advanced tactical platforms Starfleet had ever created but one hell of a maintenance job. Six warp nacelles, three class-nine independent warp cores, three deflectors, automated systems galore, multiple shield generators and an unparalleled tactical suite meant she was both an engineer’s nightmare scenario and dream posting all rolled into one.

Prida was one of those strange engineers; you know the type, right? The type that loves nothing more than solving a needle-in-a-haystack type of problem. Just from the early conversations she had had with those on her new team, she could tell that Prometheus was definitely going to be ‘her’ type of problem. Of the nearly two-hundred souls aboard the ship, hers was the second largest department with some forty people under her command, all with the mandate of keeping the complex ship’s systems running. And, to their credit, they had done a bloody good job in doing so. The report she had received had been exemplary and, unlike Noli, she hadn’t come across any negativity at the crew having an outsider in charge. If anything, her experience had been quite positive. The thing with engineers was that if you were good at your job, your name got bandied around engineering circles far and wide. As the former engineer of one of the finest starships to have been assigned to Task Force 17 in the Ulysses, she was definitely well known. Equally, as she was the engineer on a posting where something truly tragic took place, that added to her notoriety.

She was in the midst of a conversation with Chief Ramirez from the propulsion systems team when she spotted Commander Noli making her way through the busy engineering bay.

“Can you give us a minute, Chief?” the grey-skinned Bajassian asked with a smile and watched as the Chief Petty Officer dutifully moved away and busied herself with some work near the matter-antimatter reaction chamber.

“What a ship!” Prida grinned as she approached Noli, but was taken aback when her friend grabbed her by the arm and guided her towards an alcove on the port wall. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Noli looked more than a little anxious about something, looking around the sea of unfamiliar faces whilst she spoke in a hushed tone. It was less a conversation and more the engineer being talked at by her friend, the younger of the two only getting a word in when Noli finally stopped talking.

“They’re having you on,” Prida shook her head slowly, a smirk forming on both sides of her lips. “I’ve experienced nothing but warmth and welcomes.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are an engineer,” Noli frowned, folding her arms across her chest, her voice still hushed. “I’m the security chief who let her captain get murdered,” she frowned, “they don’t want me here, they don’t think I can keep them safe,” she concluded. She was aware that she probably sounded paranoid, but that didn’t change the fact that she was right.

“Hey!” Prida chastised her friend. “That was NOT your fault. Stop blaming yourself. We’re here, with a fresh start. I miss her and regret the way things happened, but it is time to move on…” Prida then placed a hand on the Commander’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

The tactile nature of her friend and colleague usually caught Noli off guard, but not this time. She wasn’t exactly ‘touchy-feely’ at the best of times, and would be known to bristle at the mere intimation of touching someone else, but there was something about her Bajoran brethren that put her at ease.

“I see you two haven’t changed…”

The voice from behind caught the two women off guard, causing them to swivel their heads or crane their necks to see who was addressing them from behind. The realisation that it was a familiar face dawned on them both quickly, and the two women stepped over to the approaching officer.

“Dante!” Prida grinned, almost skipping up to the red-shirted officer, preparing to throw her arms around him when she stopped. “Sorry, Lieutenant Commander Rawlings,” she grinned at their old colleague.

“Yeah, a recent thing,” the dark-skinned man smiled as he threw his arms around the engineer’s waist and pulled her closer. “It’s so good to see you both,” he grinned, then released his friend, reaching out and exchanging a warm handshake with Noli.

“I’m sorry about what happened on Ulysses,” he frowned once the pleasantries were out of the way, “I wish I had been there…”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Noli shook her head, only to receive a look of ‘take your own advice’ from her fellow Bajoran.

“Don’t be too sure about that,” Dante shook his head, then gestured towards the exit with a nod, “Come on, the Captain’s back from the station and wants to meet you both. I’ve been telling her all about our time together on the Santa Fe,” the Flight Operations Chief revealed, leading them towards the exit.

“Oh goodie,” Noli smirked, “I bet that’s filled her with joy!” she and Prida exchanged playful smiles, the tension of their previous conversation forgotten for the moment.

A short turbo lift ride from engineering deposited the three officers outside the observation lounge on deck one, with the Flight Operations chief leading their way inside. The room, spartan and compact, was as clean and sterile as the rest of the ship. It was a far cry from what they had been used to aboard previous postings, but perhaps that was a good thing.

As they entered, a figure stood at the window that dominated the aft bulkhead, staring into space. It wasn’t the figure they expected to see, however.

“Vittoria?!” Noli looked as shocked as ever, but the smile on her face betrayed her feeling of relief at seeing another familiar face. Prida’s eyes welled up as she, too, realised that their friend was here with them. After a prolonged, three-way embrace, the women took a moment to catch up. They hadn’t seen each other since Ulysses had returned to the Alpha quadrant weeks ago, after all. 

“I thought you were on leave?” Prida queried as they moved to sit around the table with their male colleague.

“Never mind that,” Noli shook her head as she pulled out a seat near Rawlings. “I like the new look,” referencing the Counsellor’s change of hair colour and style, ”I guess I’m the undisputed ‘blonde bombshell’ now, then?” she grinned, running a hand through her hair and drawing a gasp of exasperation from Dante.

“You just never change, do you?!” he laughed and got a playful slap on the arm from the Bajoran tactician just in time for the door to the room to open. Upon the arrival of the commanding officer, Dante swiftly rose to his feet.

‘Oh, it’s one of THOSE places,’ Noli inwardly eye-rolled at the apparent holdover of the military nature of life aboard the ship. Rising to attention at the Captain’s mere presence was just the latest of many incidents she had seen in the short time they had been aboard. But, who was she to question procedure on someone else’s ship?

Rising to her feet, she was quickly joined by her colleagues from the Ulysses, and all four officers remained standing until the Captain made her way to the chair at the head of the table.

Standing behind the seat, the spotted woman placed both hands on the headrest whilst surveying the people around the table. For the better part of two minutes, the silence was as awkward as it could get.

“I know it can’t be easy, coming to a new starship, after everything you have all been through,” the Trill ended the silence at last, “and I want to thank you for being here. I’ll be honest, having you all here was not my preference.” Her bluntness, and open honesty, caught the women around the table unawares. “I am aware there is likely a lot of unresolved trauma left behind by recent events,” she continued, “but I have been assured that the presence of all three of you will be vital to the mission we are to undertake. And Commander Rawlings,” she gestured at the flyboy, “has vouched for each of you; that you’ll give me one-hundred and ten percent whilst you are here. That’s good enough for me,” she smiled, and pulled out her seat, gesturing for those at the table to sit at last.

All three of the women fought the urge to look at the Captain and show off their real feelings, but for now, they would listen and take in all that they were to be told. It was clear that something was afoot. Soon enough, they were joined by four other officers; one was a young Vulcan with ears pointing to the heavens and a teal-coloured uniform. Another was a dark-skinned, gold-uniformed Terran that closely resembled their friend Rawlings. A third was a blue-shirted Andorian, difficult to look at because of her resemblance to their former friend. The fourth was no stranger to any of them – the menacing giant of an XO, Commander Bachmann.

In the briefing that followed, the Captain explained all about the formation of the new Prometheus Squadron, and how they would be heading up the group as it navigated missions throughout the Typhon Frontier. She had gone on to introduce the three newcomers to the team and, on the whole, the welcome had been positive. Save for Bachmann. He remained silent, detached from proceedings. He had no desire to exchange pleasantries with them, and that was ok with the three much younger women. 

“So, that deals with the official, on the record part of the briefing,” Nazir remarked, drawing the keen attention of several of the people around the table. “Unofficially, we have a different purpose in the Typhon Frontier,” she began, tapping at the controls on the table to pull up a holographic representation of a planetoid. She nodded towards Lieutenant Chifek.

Sitting forward, hands clasped together on the surface of the table, the Vulcan scientist accepted the invitation to take over the meeting. “This is the planet Evichi,” the Vulcan began his report. “Located deep into the frontier, our knowledge is limited beyond the basics; a class M world, inhabited and with data that points to warp-capable civilisations,” he briefed the command staff, his expression as stoic as ever.

“This planet will be of particular interest to you three,” Keziah took over again, looking at the three newcomers, “and is the reason you are here.”

Perplexed faces prompted the Captain to elaborate further. “According to Starfleet Intelligence, data pinpoints Evichi as the likely homeworld of Captain sh’Elas’ assassin.”

Now that certainly prompted reactions from the three women, but Nazir stopped them all in their tracks. “This will be a mission of reconnaissance,” she said, “and we will be responsible for gathering intelligence on this strange new world and ascertaining if its people are amenable to friendship with the Federation.”

“Friendship?” Noli nearly spat the word out, throwing herself back in her seat, “one of their people murdered our Captain.”

The Commander’s ‘outburst’ prompted Bachmann to make his first foray into the briefing. “Murdering a Starfleet captain hardly signals friendship,” he told in his gruff tone, making eye contact with the Bajoran and nodding his support.

The move unnerved the blonde somewhat and almost caused her to re-evaluate her life choices. Agreeing with Bachmann, the condescending asshole from the shuttlebay, was not high on her agenda.

“You all know we don’t hold a species to blame for the actions of a single individual,” the Captain’s sterner tone indicated she was putting the dissenting voices in their place before continuing. “Now, this mission is highly classified, so much so that even the brass on Dee-Ess-Seventeen haven’t been fully briefed,” she told, causing a smattering of murmurs, “what we do know is that a liaison from Starfleet Intelligence will be joining us later to go over our remit and ensure we do this thing properly. We go in under the guise of being tactical support for the exploration initiative out here, but unofficially, we’re to give this investigation top priority. Communications off-ship will be prohibited for the duration of the mission, without the permission of myself, Commander Bachmann or the intelligence liaison. Chifek?” she then handed the briefing back to the Vulcan, apologising briefly for hijacking his time.

For several minutes, the Vulcan continued to elaborate on the data provided by Starfleet regarding the planet, and how they would have to navigate the treacherous expanse to get there. Rawlings, for his part, seemed quite chilled at the prospect of guiding the ship through the expanse. Together, the duo briefed the rest of the staff on recent updates from Task Force Command regarding the expanse itself, and how long-range sensors trained on the region had detected a significant shift in the baselines for radiation emissions and subspace oscillations that Starfleet had previously recorded.

“In English, please?” Vittoria piped up, not entirely sure what any of that meant exactly.

“Essentially, the anomalies in the region are acting up, and the task force is investigating while we, umm…” Rawling shuffled uncomfortably, “do our thing,” he concluded with a sheepish smile.

“Alright then,” Nazir nodded in thanks to the two officers. “Our guest from intelligence arrives at seventeen-thirty hours. I want us underway at seventeen-thirty-one,” she directed as she rose to her feet, and dismissed the party.

There was a hush about the staff as they left the briefing room, destined for destinations across the ship. Leaving together, the women of Ulysses had much to discuss.