“According to Starfleet Command there is no situation,” Captain Tikva Theodoras said, elaborating her explosive opening statement. Her senior staff briefing had started with first ensuring everyone had settled down in the Captain’s Mess with a meal before them, then launching straight into the heart of the matter with the declaration that the Dominion had attacked and occupied numerous worlds in the Deneb Sector. Then she gave them the official party line.

Forks full of food had stopped in transit, drinks were halfway to mouths, Gavin Hu had just about spat out his coffee but saved everyone from that spectacle, though was now doing his best not to die, coughing quietly and taking an offered glass of water from Doctor Terax. With silence, she resumed the briefing.

“According to Vice Admiral Beckett and Fourth Fleet Intelligence however we’re facing an unprecedented resumption of hostilities from Dominion forces.” While others seated around the table had started in on the meals, a combination of breakfast, lunch and dinner scents wafting around them, she’d opted to nurse a cup of coffee, ignoring the waffles before her she’d taken purely as a matter of appearances.

“There have been no reports of Dominion forces forcing their way through the wormhole,” Adelinde said. Ever since the split between Tactical and Security aboard the ship, she’d focused on the larger-scale image of what Atlantis might find itself against. She’d be filling a strategic operations role in a squadron or a fleet, but on a single ship, it just wasn’t a role that was needed. But it had let Adelinde focus on larger threats and Ck’tkk’va on ensuring the ship’s security personnel could handle threats that didn’t need or require the ship’s weapons arrays.

“That,” Gavin said around another cough, “would have been all over the news. And we were just at DS47, we’d have been one of the first ships to hear about such a thing.”  

“Initial assessments of scans undertaken by the Caliburn have concluded that the Dominion ships involved in this incursion are almost twenty-five years out of time and space.” Tikva looked over the rim of her coffee cup, making sure to catch the attention of two specific people around the table –Terax and T’Val. “Doctor, Lieutenant, you both served during the Dominion War, yes?”

While T’Val merely nodded her head, Terax leaned forward and looked down the table at Tikva. The Edosian doctor had left Counsellor Hu to care for himself and all three hands had found the table’s edge. “No one served in that war captain. Starfleet was subjected to it by the machinations of long-dead Cardassian leadership and Changeling manipulations. We suffered the horrors of Vorta plots and Jem’Hadar atrocities.”

“I…apologise Doctor.”

“Don’t apologise for something you were just a child through,” Terax stated, gritting his teeth as he spoke. “None of you. Just tell me how we’re going to make sure this doesn’t turn into the meat grinder like the last war was.”

“Are you implying Captain,” T’Val cut in, having unlike the others never stopped eating her morning meal, “that this is the missing Dominion fleet that was reportedly dealt with by the Bajoran wormhole aliens during Operation Return?”

“It’s Admiral Beckett’s working theory,” the captain said.

“Fourth Fleet Command also thinks that we haven’t seen the totality of the Lost Fleet just yet,” MacIntyre stepped into the conversation. “And while Starfleet Command, and the media, are downplaying this threat, at least some in the quadrant consider it to be real enough. The entire Cardassian Third Order apparently has made their way to the Deneb Sector ahead of us.”

“How long have they known?” Rrr asked. “They’d have had to take the zenith or nadir routes to Deneb as there is no way you could move the Third Order through the B-T without, oh, starting a war.”

“Hey, it’s still early Rrr, we just might have with our stunt,” Velan said with a smirk. “Besides, Cardassians will be Cardassians. The Obsidian Order probably have someone on the admiral’s staff.”

“There’s a scary thought,” Rrr responded. “Probably on the same shift as the Tal Shiar agent.”

“Likely the Cardassians just read through the lines,” Tikva clarified. “And it took a while for Admiral Beckett to verify the threat and then send out orders. No need to attribute to spies what is likely Central Command wanting to put a win in their column and getting the jump on something our own command wanted to verify before kicking up the hornet’s nest.”

“So we’re headed for Farpoint then?” Terax asked, having settled back down in his seat and angrily attacking his dinner, though not eating any of it. Fork and knife clashed, clattering with the plate as food was diced. “Doctor Pisani is likely a good candidate to lend to any emergency medical –“

“We’re not joining the fleet immediately.” That stopped everyone for the second time this meeting as eyes turned on the captain, who was busy draining her coffee, taking time to set the cup down before resuming. “We’re headed for Handl Dryf to undertake a diplomatic effort on behalf of Fourth Fleet Command.”

“A Ferengi trading post?” Adelinde asked, earning a nod of affirmation from Tikva and MacIntyre.

“That doesn’t seem very logical,” T’Val stated.

“We should be joining with the greater hive-fleet,” Ch’tkk’va said, the universal translator again catching on Xindi-Insectoid terminology. “The Ferengi are poor soldier-drones. They would make inadequate allies against the Dominion.”

Ch’tkk’va was the only other person in the room aside from T’Val to speak who didn’t have some sort of emotion to their speech. Terax was angry, different from his usual grumpiness. Rrr and Velan had both settled for hiding nerves with light humour. Tikva, MacIntyre and Adelinde were doing well to mask unease with professional detachment. But Ch’tkk’va’s voice hadn’t just been a cold logical separation of speech and emotion like T’Val’s had been, but one of generations. With no chance of direct trauma in the young Xindi-Insectoid, generational trauma was also a couple of generations old compared to others who might have been children during the war at least.

“Representatives of the Klingon Empire and the Romulan successor states will be meeting us at Handl Dryf. We’ve been tasked with opening negotiations to get them involved in the conflict in support of Fourth Fleet directly.” MacIntyre made sure to lock eyes all around but failed with one person in particular – Gabrielle Camargo. “Commander, are you okay?”

“Sorry sir,” the young woman said. “Papa spoke a lot about the war and…are we sure this isn’t just some elaborate prank?” She looked up at MacIntyre, then to Tikva, her eyes void of emotion, somewhat lacking in focus before sharpening as her brain reengaged. “Seriously, twenty-five-year-old Dominion ships attacking the Federation from deep space? It’s ridiculous.”

“I wish it was,” Tikva said. “But I’ve seen a fair bit of evidence in the last few hours to convince me it’s real.”

“Santa Maria,” Gabrielle muttered. “But why now?”

“A damn good question,” Terax growled. “And one I propose someone demands an answer out of the wormhole aliens for.”

“I’ll forward your suggestion along Doctor,” the captain said. “But we don’t know the specifics for that just yet Gabs.” She paused for a moment. “I remember watching the news about the bombing of San Francisco as it happened. Meteor showers for a month afterwards as debris burnt up each night. We’re not going to let such a thing happen again.”

“Already has for the Deneb Sector,” Terax interrupted.

But the captain chose to ignore the interruption. “But Admiral Beckett has some concerns about potential Changeling interference with any diplomatic outreach, which is why we’re being directed to Handl Dryf. We’re supposed to be in the Thomar Expanse, we’re not going to show up directly within the Deneb theatre of operations and unlike any of the fleet senior staff showing up, I’m not an admiral.”

“Yet,” Velan contributed. “Just saying ma’am, single boxed pip on your collar wouldn’t look too out of place.”

“And,” Tikva continued with a slight smile, “we’re going to be negotiating with our old alliance partners at a busy port where ships from all over frequent on all manner of business.”

“We’re just going to be another ship making a stop at Handl Dryf,” Mac jumped in. “At the same time Rrr I want a stoppage on outgoing communications. Let’s not have anyone give away our position.”

“Long-range communications are in need of some system downtime for routine maintenance and overhaul,” the operations chief added. “Should be able to find some busy work for my people and a handful of engineers as well.”

“And we’ll be busy with checks on the warp drive, so that should tie up a decent portion of the crew Boss,” Velan stated. “Actually, if these are out-of-time Dominion ships, then they’re from before the Romulans joined the war at all.” Velan sounded optimistic at that. “Likely the Breen are lying through their…I assume they have teeth. Klingons showing up would just be a normal day as far as these Dominion folks are concerned. But the Romulans…now that would be a surprise.”

 “Here’s hoping,” Tikva said. “Now, Stirling was kind enough to put together some profiles on who we’re going to be meeting and I’d like some input from the lot of you on how best to approach negotiations with them. First off we have…”

Just under two hours later the Captain’s Mess, the senior officer’s retreat from the rest of the crew, had been vacated by all but Tikva Theodoras and Charles MacIntyre. The table was a scene of devastation, strewn with plates, cups and near-empty carafes. It was from one of these that Mac was pouring the last of the coffee for himself and Tikva.

“So, saved the worst question for just between us,” he started, making sure the captain’s cup was filled before his own. After all, it was safer to risk running out of coffee with his cup than hers. “Can we trust Admiral Beckett?”

“We’ve got Command telling us nothing is wrong, don’t worry folks. Frontier Day is just around the corner after all. Then we’ve got Admiral Ramar’s chief spy telling us the sky is falling.” She added some milk to her coffee, then two rather generous teaspoons of sugar before stirring while talking. “Then we’re being sent off to make alliances with major galactic powers behind Command and the Federation Council’s backs with explicit reasoning being I’m just a captain and no one will be looking at me too hard right now.”

“So, it’s a trap?”

“Just what trap is the question though.” She finished stirring the cup and set the spoon aside. “A clever trap to spring on the Dominion as we bring the unified might of the Federation Alliance of yore down on their heads? Changelings somewhere in the Federation orchestrating the bonfire to pitch Admiral Ramar and Beckett upon with me as their puppet? Or is Admiral Beckett orchestrating something and I’m the triggerman for what? Or is Atlantis being played a fool and someone is setting us all up to fail and ruin our careers?”

“I’ve read Beckett’s profile, just like you have. He’s no Admiral Layton.” Mac stood, taking his cup with him as he started a slow pace along the length of the table. “Honestly, gut feeling, I think we can trust the Admiral. His profile reads like a man possessed at times but it always seems to be in support of Federation ideals.”

“Ideals can be misguided. And we’re assuming we’ve been talking with the actual Admiral Beckett as well,” Tikva said. “Fuck, this situation sucks. A stand-up fight would be one thing, but why is Command brushing this all under the table?”

“Changelings,” Mac answered. “Think about it. An invasion and suddenly support just ups and vanishes. And not just any invasion, but a Dominion invasion.”

“No visitors to the ship once we’re at Handl Dryf. And all away teams have to undergo blood screening upon returning to the ship.” Tikva sipped at her coffee, eyes turning to look out the forward window and the streaking stars outside. “Buddy system at all times for those going across.”

“You’re not just taking security teams with you when you go over. I’m insisting you take a hazard team with you.” Mac stopped pacing and stared down his captain, only resuming his pacing when she nodded in understanding.

“I’ll take Silver team whenever I go over. We’ll keep Gold and Bronze on hot standby.”

“Terax seemed unusually emotive. What was his war record specifically?”

She sighed in recollection, took another sip and then sighed again, this time enjoyment, before recanting what she knew. “Junior doctor on the Sun Tzu at the start of the war. Had three ships blown out from under him, and served as a field doctor in some of the worst hell holes, including the ground fighting at First Chintoka.”

“Shit. I mean, I’ve read about it, even watched some documentaries, but geez…makes sense now why he’s rather keen to introduce the Dominion to the pointy end of the stick.”

“And then some,” Tikva said. “We should be arriving at Handl –“

She cut herself off as the streaking stars gave way to normal static pinpricks of light. In the far distance in front of Atlantis was the unmistakable cluster of lights for a busy port. The station of Handl Dryf sat in the middle of a cloud of ships, most of them just blinking lights in the distance buzzing away in the dark. Unmistakeable amongst a cluster of nearby ships however was the looming bulk of a D’Deridex-class warbird, its gleaming green hull matched only by a Valdore-class ship.

But of perhaps a more immediate concern, especially navigationally, was a single silver ship directly in their path. Its trilateral symmetry, harsh edges and pointed fore made the ship immediately identifiable as it stared down the Atlantis – a Tholian webspinner.

“You know, I don’t know what I was expecting to find when we got here, but Tholians weren’t on my list,” Tikva said. “But hey, don’t join the fleet –“

“Unless you can take a joke,” they both finished in unison.