“I can’t explain it, ma’am,” Kurtwell answered Kendris’ inquiry. “CR-718’s shields have come up and would give DS47 a decent run for its money.”

Tikva sighed once more at that, letting her brain run in a dozen different directions for just a bit. Letting worry and concern and panic run themselves out and hopefully leave behind a cool collected self.

Gods I hope that idiom translates into Romulan well enough for Kendris.

Why does it still exist?

Because idioms are hard to kill.

“That’s not all,” Kurtwell continued. “The shields, meant to protect the station core, have been expanded over the entire array web.”

Okay, that’s just…

Not possible?

Well, it clearly is for someone at least.

“Right,” she finally said, authority lacing the single word and drawing attention to herself from all on the bridge. “It’s not the Breen, the Tzenkethi or the Dominion. And if it is, I’ll eat my bloody boots.” That got a wry chuckle from a few of the junior officers on the bridge.

“Can we be certain of that?” Kendris asked. It didn’t sound like Kendris was asking to accuse her of taking threats off the board too early, but of a general lack of knowledge on the matter.

“If the Breen or Dominion could muster such power, we’d have seen it at Deneb. And if the Tzenkethi could, we’d have seen it thrown in the Breen’s face by now.” Tikva looked to Kurtwell for support, the young tactical officer rolling his head slightly left and right with his shoulders, weighing up specific knowledge he knew before reaching a conclusion. A gentle nod of his head followed a few heartbeats later.

She’d never seen the need for a Strategic Operations office aboard Atlantis. The ship wasn’t the head of a task group, it wasn’t coordinating a sector’s worth of ships and wasn’t responsible for the security of a border, protecting a dozen colonies and outposts. It was an explorer, tasked with looking under rocks, poking slime moulds with sticks and throwing probes into spatial anomalies to see just how the laws of physics were breaking on any given day. She had split Tactical and Security into two to let her Security people focus on specific fields.

Security handled just that – security. But with the added flavour of the Hazard Teams on top. Tactical handled keeping the ship safe from other ships but picked up some of that Strategic Operations and Intelligence malarky. They read reports and intelligence, kept themselves up to date on the specifics of the threat vectors of the Thomar Expanse and in revenge for having read those reports, wrote their own that someone poor saps would have to read.

Including one starship captain of the USS Atlantis. Because being in command means you get to suffer paperwork just as much if not more than anyone else. Yeomans excluded, the poor souls.

So when Kurtwell nodded in agreement, Tikva felt just that little bit more confident in a statement she had felt confident enough in saying in the first place. There was no way such technology by a local player wouldn’t have been shoved in Starfleet’s face in a grander way than stealing a comms array.

“Bridge to Engineering,” she said out loud after stepping back to her chair and taping the comm button on the armrest. “Velan, grab your best shield expert and get up here.”

“Aye ma’am,” came the Efrosian’s voice before the line went quiet.

“Bridge to Camargo. To the bridge please Commander,” she then said afterwards and couldn’t help but smile at the wave of relief from the duty science officer. A potential crisis and having your boss called up meant the direct pressure was off of you and the young man was feeling that professional joy of not having to be the lead on solving the mystery in front of the captain today.

“On my way Captain,” Gabrielle responded. “Anything dire?”

“Yes,” she answered.

Gabrielle’s tone shifted, going from chirpy and inquisitive to cool and serious. “ASAP ma’am,” Gabrielle said and again the line went dead.

When the turbolift opened onto the bridge a minute later, it disgorged three figures. Lieutenant Commanders Velan and Camargo and one sheepish-looking Ensign Jamie De León, who hadn’t faced her down since a dressing down over a year ago on another Atlantis in the Delta Quadrant.

Poor boy looks terrified.

He should be! He’s still an ensign. He should have made JG by now.

What were we doing at that age again?

Second officer, USS Aroha. Miss that boat.

Back to task!

It didn’t take long to bring them all up to speed, Kurtwell and Sam dropping information on the newcomers in quick order as they moved to the back of the bridge, leaving the ship in capable hands to keep the ship just sitting in one place. And shout for help if needed.

De León scratched his head as he stared at the wall monitor in the mission operations bay, cocking it to the side as he read and reread the numbers evident before him. His sheepishness had evaporated as well in the face of an engineering mystery. “Ignoring the power generation problem for a minute, but those shield emitters on the station should have burnt out after thirty seconds at this power level.”

“Well I feel stupid for not spotting that,” Sam said. “Good spot Jamie.”

“Though, realistically the power runs to the emitters should have burnt out just ramping up to power.” Jamie stepped up to the diagram on the screen and tapped at a few sections. “Standard quad-emitter setup for a small station like this. Would deter most raiders but would sacrifice the subspace arrays to keep the core safe.”

“Sam, Jamie, I want you both working to figure out how that station is so well shielded. Don’t tell me how it shouldn’t be, tell me how it is.” She turned on Kendris and Velan next. “Get me comms back with my away team. I want to know what is going on over there.”

“Yes ma’am,” Velan answered, then indicated one of the workstations in the ops bay for Kendris to join him at.

“And me ma’am?” Camargo asked.

“I want a double, triple and quadruple check of this entire star system. I want to be absolutely certain that no other starship has been here in ages. Every probe, shuttle, starfighter and runabout is at your disposal for as sensitive and widespread a sensor net as you want.”

Camargo’s expression took on a vestige of concern before professionalism kicked in. It was the exact opposite of the unfettered joy she’d expressed a few months back on a standard survey mission when Tikva had given her carte blanche to do the same thing. It meant the other woman realised the importance of her task.

“Ma’am.” Gabrielle had waited a moment before speaking up but stopped herself almost immediately. With a sucked-in breath and steeling courage, she continued. “Is Commander Gantzmann aboard station? Just, I haven’t seen her on the bridge.”

“She is.”

“Are…are you okay ma’am?”

“Gabs,” she said, stepping forward, plastering a smile on her face she had mastered years ago, “I’m not worried for Lin. After all, whoever is doing this, they’ve trapped themselves aboard that station with her.”

“Yeah.” Gabrielle nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” And she offered a smile, a nod and turned on her heel to find her station and get to work, already tapping at her commbadge to call T’Val and get the ship’s small craft in operation.

“I will, if I have to, remove you from command.” Kendris’ voice was quiet, barely a whisper. Barely louder than her footsteps as she stepped up beside Tivka. “For the safety of the ship and crew.”

“I believe you,” Tikva found herself saying. She could taste the resolve, the will, that powered Kendris. That solid depth of duty and responsibility. And an ever so slight lick of concern that went with it.

She doesn’t want to, but she’ll do it.

Of course she will. She’s a creature of duty.

She doesn’t want to break out trust though.

And Lin would crucify us if we didn’t do our duty, as she would expect.

Lin…

“You’d have trouble getting the crew to go along with you,” she followed up, the implied question waiting for an answer.

“I would place Commander Velan in command. He has the trust of the crew and is the second officer.” Kendris turned, to return to Velan and their work. “If it comes to it.”

“Thank you for the warning,” she said to the Romulan.

They both nodded to each other and went their ways.

She stalked around the bridge, glaring at nothing and everything for a single lap before she settled herself into the centre seat. Her eyes locked on the image of the station sitting there, zoomed in so they could make details out from across thousands of kilometres between them. She sought answers staring at that image, as if it would magically give her some insight.

“Kurtwell,” she said, a response from the tactical arch behind, “raise the shields. Someone doesn’t want us beaming more people over there, or getting our people back. I don’t think I want them coming over here uninvited.”