“Hey boss, getting something a little weird here,” Samantha Michaels announced to the bridge, breaking the silence that had settled over Beta Shift’s watch of the mighty ship Atlantis.

“Define weird,” Rrr said. They hadn’t opted for the centre seat while taking charge of the watch, after having been on duty for Alpha Shift, or the executive officer’s seat either to the captain’s right, but the much less used ‘guest seat’ to the captain’s left. One didn’t mess with the captain’s chair, or risk breaking the XO’s chair after all and the guest seat had been, after a brief conversation with Ra months ago, been reinforced for Rrr’s sizable mass.

“CR-718 just started transmitting a general distress,” Sam clarified. “And when I hailed to ask what was going on, I’m not getting a response.”

“Can confirm the distress call,” Lieutenant Kurtwell, one of Gantzmann’s tactical officers, said from behind the tactical arch.

The low rumble started deep in Rrr, rising from subsonic to just barely audible as they got to their feet, stomping forward to look over Sam’s shoulder at her displays. “What about local subspace traffic? Any changes from the station?”

“None,” she answered. “Everything looks normal enough. Lieutenant Conway sent us another status update ten minutes ago, like he has every hour, on the hour, that he’s awake, since learning we were on our way to help. But then they just started transmitting a distress call and aren’t answering comms. But otherwise still relaying traffic as expected.”

“Tabaaha,” Rrr looked over at the young Amero-Indian woman at the helm, who turned to them instantly. “Take us to warp nine.”

“Warp nine, aye,” Lieutenant Junior Grade Tabaaha answered. A few keystrokes, a confirmation from Engineering that the order had been received and then more chirps as Atlantis surged forward, half again as fast as she’d been going before. “Should be at CR-718 in eighty minutes.”

“Kurtwell, full tactical sweep around us and the station. Might be some rogue Breen ships.” Rrr stalked back over to the command seats, mulling a thought.

“Could be Tzenkethi too,” Kurtwell added.

“Unlike the Breen, the Tzenkethi are actually good at being isolationist. But a valid concern too. Add Dominion to the list too. Might be a missed ship or two roaming around, refusing to surrender.” A moment more of thought and Rrr then tapped at the comm button on the captain’s chair. “Bridge to the Captain. Sorry to disturb you ma’am, but you’re going to want to come up here.”

Fifteen minutes later and the mission operations bay at the rear of the bridge had gone from two officers trying to do some work when it wasn’t busy to properly activated and in use. Rrr and Sam were leading things, a relief officer having taken over for Sam and Kurtwell keeping an eye on the bridge for Rrr. The captain and Ch’tkk’va had arrived, followed very shortly by Gantzmann and Kendris.

“Sorry to interrupt, but now everyone is here, I ordered the ship to warp nine after Sam picked up something.” Rrr nodded, letting the discoverer take over.

“CR-718 started transmitting a general distress call sixteen minutes ago. Lieutenant Conway isn’t responding to hails and I’ve tried remote commands to interrogate the station’s computer, getting no response.” Sam brought up on the main screen a list of all recent communications with the station, an analysis of its communications activity from the last twenty-four hours and a list of all the reported faults Conway had sent them, each drawing a thin orange line to a diagram of the station where the fault was recorded.

“We’ll be there in little over an hour,” Rrr capped things off.

“This ship can go a lot faster than warp nine, yes? Can we not go faster?” Kendris asked, drawing Tikva’s gaze as she spoke.

“We can, but I wanted to confirm with the captain before we did so.” Rrr didn’t look anything other than stoic in the face of the interrogation by this new executive officer.

“Nine-nine should get us there in about thirty minutes.” Tikva had paused just briefly before giving the time, counting with thumb and fingers to herself as she did the math in her head. “Rrr, tell Kelly she can open the throttle as far as she wants. Nine point nine-five will only shave a few minutes off so let’s do it.”

The Gaen officer nodded, then stalked away.

“Ch’tkk’va, prep an away team to board the station and find Lieutenant Conway first.”

“Excuse me, captain,” Kendris again spoke up. “Would it not be better to deploy a hazard team instead? There’s the possibility for hostile action against the station, with Tzenkethi space so close and attackers could still be present aboard the station.”

Tikva thought on that for a moment, nodding in agreement. “Get Silver Team ready, Ch’tkk’va. I want them beaming over first and securing the station before we send anyone else over.”

“Yes ma’am,” the Xindi-Insectoid answered. “Though there is a problem with Silver Team I was only informed of twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh?” Tikva asked.

“Lieutenant Fightmaster reported to sickbay with a broken arm. Doctor Terax informed me that he’ll be in sickbay for a few hours.” Ch’tkk’va’s head tilted to the side at Tikva’s incredulous look, mandibles clicking briefly. “He is fine. It was an accident apparently”

“Hell of an accident to break an arm,” Sam muttered.

“Indeed. Moving furniture as I understand.” Ch’tkk’va replied to the lieutenant’s statement. “Lieutenant W’a’le’ki had asked Lieutenant Fightmaster for assistance in moving things around her quarters. A bookshelf apparently toppled.”

“He’s fought changelings, been in numerous battles and the greatest injury he’s had on this ship is moving a bookcase?” Tikva barked a laugh at the ridiculousness.

“I’ll go,” Gantzmann spoke up. “I’ve practised more with Silver Team of late than you have Ch’tkk’va. I can fill in and I’m happy enough to let Mitchell still run the team.”

“Would you not assume command?” Kendris asked. “Mitchel is merely a lieutenant, yes?”

“Yes, but it’s his team,” Gantzmann answered. “I’m merely filling in a roster gap. Besides, it shouldn’t be too dangerous and gives me some field hours.”

“Are you sure?” Tikva asked.

“Yes.” The response was firm, brooking no room for argument.

“The Commander is correct in that she has spent more hours practising with Silver Team in the last month than I have,” Ch’tkk’va added to Gantzmann’s argument. “If Fightmaster is unable to deploy, Commander Gantzmann would be a logical replacement.”

“Right, fine.” Tikva threw her hands up in mock surrender just as the background noise of the ship at high warp ratcheted up another notch. “Twenty-five minutes till we get there, search and rescue first. We’ll worry about repairs once we know what’s going on and secure the station.”

She waited a moment, glanced at those that remained, and then muttered, loud enough for all. “I need coffee.” She turned, took two steps up the short set of stairs out of the mission operations bay before turning to face Ch’tkk’va. “A bookcase broke his arm?”

“That is what he told me over comms.”

“Honestly,” she mused, then finished stalking away to her ready room.

“Did Captain Theodoras do warp speed, distance and time calculations on the fly in her head?” Kendris asked those still present, her tone implying her disbelief at the act.

“Yup,” said Sam with the casual air of a junior officer.

“Yes,” said Ch’tkk’va and Gantzmann in more professional tones.

“Impressive,” Kendris said. “How right was she?” she asked of Sam.

Sam’s eyes widened momentarily, then turned to one of the consoles, tapping away and then stepping back to show her calculations with the computer’s assistance as compared to the captain’s estimates.

“Remarkable,” Kendris commented at the evidence before her. “Truly remarkable.”