To say that it had been a trying week for Captain Nushif Ejoma would be a gross understatement bordering on parody. Over the course of the last six days, she had conducted an away mission to a set of ruins, asked her El-Aurian flag officer about the Borg, and lambasted the same flag officer for her reaction to a Borg emergency beacon. She had expected to be dressed down, and thrown on a runabout back to Bajor with her tail between her legs. 

Instead, her commanding officer had put her on a runabout with instructions to report to Starbase 47 for reassignment. She had protested at the time, stated that whatever blowout had happened due to her stereotypical Bajoran candor shouldn’t have affected her career in the fleet after being hand-chosen for her position, and numerous other overtures as to why she shouldn’t be ousted from her position as First Officer on one of the most prestigious ships in the Fleet. 

It had only been Captain Holmes’ assurances that nothing bad was coming down the pipes for her, and that he had personally spoken well of her to the Personnel department that had convinced her to pack up what few belongings she had, and take a runabout to the station. She sat now in the Staff Adjutant’s office, idly reading some of the latest reports of Borg activity on her PADD, and anxiously awaiting what backwater, milk run posting she’d end up on due to all of this. 

“Good day,” Captain Elsie Drake said curtly as she stepped briskly back into her office. As was typical for the staff adjutant of Task Force 47’s Commanding Officer, she’d been rushing to and fro all morning, and she’d had to rush back to her office when she’d received word that Captain Nushif had arrived. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Captain. With recent developments, I’m sure you can understand it’s been more than a bit busy for us here at 47?”

Nushif set her PADD down on the desk before her, replying “Certainly, yes. I imagine most of the starbase has been running everywhere possible trying to track down leads and credible reports. I know my crew, uh…my former crew, that is to say, were doing the same; an Odyssey being about the size of a small starbase anyway.” 

She stood, and announced, “Captain Nushif Ejoma, reporting for reassignment as ordered, to make this official. And hoping against hope I don’t get assigned to a science ship meant to scout nebulas on the back-end of the Beta Quadrant.” 

“I would hardly call this a ‘get assigned to’ sort of affair,” Captain Drake smiled as she picked a PADD off her desk and handed it to the Bajoran. “More like a ship is being assigned to you. The USS Siren, Manticore class, NCC-91253. It is the opinion of many, myself included, that there are higher and better uses for you than simply riding shotgun to Admiral Tondro.” This was a part of her job she enjoyed, getting to break good news to those that deserved it, and she paused to allow the Captain a moment to process.

Nushif sat in stunned silence for a moment. She’d thought for years that the Rakantha, the old Bajoran Lightship she’d commanded, would be the only command posting she’d ever have. She looked past Drake for a moment out of the window, not really looking at anything, but staring blankly. 

“Can…” she cleared her throat, looking back at the adjutant. “Can you tell me a little bit more about the ship? I’ll be blunt, Captain, I’m only familiar with a few Starfleet ship classes, and the Manticore isn’t one of them. I’m passingly familiar with Human Olympian Mythology, and I vaguely remember the creature it refers to but…I’ll need you to help me fill in the blanks.” 

“The Siren is a highly capable vessel equipped for frontier operations, and you will find your crew well acquainted with her loadout,” Captain Drake assured her colleague. It wasn’t all good news though, and that became apparent as Captain Nushif scrolled down to her manifest. “I will not sugarcoat it though. While your crew are highly qualified, they are also young. After the losses we suffered in the Deneb Sector and over Earth, we’ve had to fast track some up-and-comers into senior roles in order to staff the Siren.” It was either that or staffing the ship with low performing lifelong lieutenants who’d skirted past the recent crises, and Drake had made for Nushif the choice she would have made for herself.

“Nothing like unfathomable tragedies to push the hand of fate,” the Bajoran sighed.

“That it has,” Captain Drake nodded with weary eyes. The last few months had been beyond trying for the Fourth Fleet, and for her personally. It had been a logistical challenge to turn the entire might of the Fourth Fleet against the Lost Fleet, and that had been before the casualty reports started flowing in. So many casualty reports. What had been a challenge became a complete nightmare as she juggled ships and people just trying to keep the task force operational. In the end, they’d prevailed, but not without cost. And then, just as they began to pick the pieces up, the unthinkable happened: Frontier Day. Everyone was operating at their wit’s end, and it was all she could do to keep her head down and stay focused.

“I won’t pretend to know what that was like,” Nushif said with more sincerity than she’d expected to be able to muster. “As the saying goes, ‘rank has its privileges,’ and Admiral Tondro seemed content to use her privilege to mostly remain in the Bajor sector, for whatever reason that eludes me at present. I’m not complaining, I enjoyed being close to home. But candidly, it’s not what I signed on for when I quit the Bajoran Militia to join the Fleet after Utopia Planitia.” 

Leveling a gaze at the adjutant, Ejoma continued, “I’m glad the Siren is capable of frontier operations. I’ve always wanted to fill that stereotype of the ship’s captain who goes off into the wild unknown and scans planets, meets new people, helps those who need it. I suppose it’s a little cliche. Fast tracking is something I’m used to in the Militia. You see who has the capabilities of doing a job, and you don’t let cronyism, nepotism, or any other ‘tism stand in the way of putting them where they do the most good. I’m sure I’ll find them uniquely capable of whatever gets thrown at them. So…where’s the Siren being sent?” 

“The far side of the Thomar Expanse,” Captain Drake explained. “We have detected a Borg homing signal in the vicinity of Kelsis Three. While we do not have intelligence on what it is, we do have reason to believe we are not the only ones aware of it. You are to take the Siren out there, determine the source of the signal, and ensure it does not fall into the wrong hands.” A look of gravity washed across Drake’s face. It was essential the Siren succeeded given what could happen if Borg technology fell into the wrong hands.

“Stand the line, and keep the tech out of the hands of people who want to do bad things with it,” Ejoma nodded. “After Brunel Station, that’s a mission I can get behind. No one should be experimenting with this stuff, least of all the types of people who could use it to do damage to the Federation. I hesitate to make sweeping promises, having not had the opportunity to meet my crew yet, but we’ll get it done without it going sideways like it did at Brunel.” 

Looking across her PADD again, the Bajoran noticed a familiar name on the ship’s dossier that brought a smile to her face. “Well, you brought out at least one grizzled old veteran to serve with me. Whoever had that idea, I appreciate it. On that note actually, who should I be addressing a thank you letter to, for this opportunity?” 

“Yourself,” Captain Drake answered with a smile. “Your experience and your performance speak for themselves, and it’s time for you to step out from under Tondro’s shadow.” There was something unsaid in the way the staff adjutant referred to the Rear Admiral. “But don’t be so sure by the end of this that you will be wanting to thank anyone. We’ve done the best we can to equip you for success, but the galaxy is not a friendly place these days.”