“Captain’s log stardate seven-eight-six-two-oh point five-four-eight. The Columbia has arrived in the Chin’toka system and has rendezvoused with the Cardassian ship Daneer. Our orders are simple: make nice with the Cardassians! Starfleet has been assigned to oversee a joint training exercise with the Cardassian Central Command and the crew of Columbia. Hopefully, it is an attempt to foster better relationships. My crew will be mixing with the crew of the Daneer, a Keldon-class ship, as we undertake several joint away missions with our Cardassian counterparts. My senior staff and I are hosting a reception for our Cardassian colleagues in Ten Forward. The entire crew has been welcomed to join us to make our Cardassian guests feel comfortable.”

The transporter room aboard the USS Columbia buzzed with anticipation as the crew awaited the arrival of their Cardassian guests. Captain Corbin stood at the forefront, his dress uniform impeccable. His dark eyes scanned the room, his mind already assessing the diplomatic intricacies of the upcoming encounter. Beside him, Commander Nelson exuded an air of quiet confidence, her posture erect as she awaited the arrival of their guests. She had already quipped at the captain’s expense at how much he kept touching his hair. She knew how to tease him, especially when he was nervous over a mission. Lieutenant Niro stood nearby with the rest of the honour guard he had assembled. 

At the transporter controls, the chief on duty announced that their guests were ready to beam over. Corbin, his heart pounding with anticipation and nervousness, took a deep breath and nodded at the chief to bring their Cardassian visitors over. 

As the transporter hummed to life, three figures materialised in a shimmering blue light. The Cardassians, with their distinct ridged foreheads and sharp, calculating eyes, stepped forward, instantly commanding attention in the sterile environment of the transporter room. At the forefront stood Gul Tracet, a seasoned officer whose rigid posture and piercing gaze hinted at the weight of his responsibilities. Flanking him were Glinn Ganar and Glinn Kreska, their expressions guarded yet curious as they took in their new surroundings.

“Welcome aboard the USS Columbia,” Captain Corbin greeted warmly, extending a hand towards Gul Tracet. “I am Captain Romen Corbin, and it is an honour to have you and your officers join us for this exchange program.”

Gul Tracet’s features softened as he clasped Corbin’s hand in a firm shake, a gesture of mutual respect. “The honour is ours, Captain Corbin,” he replied in a measured tone. “I am grateful for this opportunity to see what our two crews can achieve together. The anticipation is high, and I believe this collaboration will be a fruitful one.”

Commander Nelson stepped forward, her smile warm and inviting. “I’m Commander Elizabeth Nelson, first officer of the Columbia,” she introduced herself. “We’re eager to begin this collaboration and learn from each other.”

Gul Tracet nodded in acknowledgement, his gaze shifting briefly to his two aides and introduced them to Corbin and Nelson. 

With the formalities observed, Captain Corbin motioned for the group to proceed to the ship’s crew lounge. “Gul Tracet, if you follow me, my crew and I have organised a gathering in honour of this new era of collaboration. Will you join me?” he offered, gesturing for the Cardassians to follow.

Gul Tracet inclined his head in agreement, his expression now tinged with a hint of anticipation. “Indeed, Captain. I look forward to seeing how our junior crews will collaborate on the tasks ahead, a prospect that fills me with excitement and optimism.”

As the officers of the USS Columbia and their Cardassian counterparts made their way through the ship’s corridors, the hum of conversation filled the air, a harmonious blend of different voices. The occasional echo of boots against the metal grating was a rhythmic reminder of their shared journey.

Nelson looked at Corbin one more time and smirked when she saw him adjust his hair again as they left the transporter room. Like so many of his crew, she knew he would be nervous about ensuring this mission with the Cardassians went without a hitch. 

As Bollwyn strolled down the gleaming corridor, the soft hum of the ship’s engines echoed around him. With a towel snugly wrapped around his waist, he headed towards his bunk, his mind buzzing with anticipation for the upcoming diplomatic reception. Before grabbing his fresh, clean clothes, Bollwyn pushed his damp, tousled hair away from his forehead. 

Tapping the panel, the door to his personal storage unit slid open with a whisper, revealing the neatly arranged uniforms within.

As he rummaged through his belongings, his fingers brushed against the smooth fabric of his dress uniform. It had been ages since he last wore it.

Sitting on the edge of his bunk, Bollwyn started to dry himself. The sonic shower he had just indulged in had left a faint, refreshing scent lingering in the air around him. As he began to get dressed, he noticed a familiar figure approaching him.

“Hey Matty,” Bollwyn said smiling, using the nickname he had given Clark a few days ago. 

“Samwell,” Matthys replied in his usual disinterested tone as he closed the distance between them. He had already been dressed in his dress uniform and looked immaculate. A grin that formed just slightly on the right side of his face would give away his act of indifference, though. Unbeknownst to Bollwyn was the fact that the only person in his life who got away with calling him Matty was his late grandmother. Scorned was anyone else in his family who dared to speak that name to him. For some reason, though, he had taken to it immediately when it came out of Bollwyn. It felt right. 

Over the last month or so, since Columbia’s mission along the Talarian border, the two of them had started to see eye-to-eye on things and were beginning to socialise more. Bollwyn had indulged himself in Clark’s enjoyment of a weekly mud bath while he had taught Clark how to play Velocity. Then, only a week ago, the two of them had been assigned to the same set of bunks. Bollwyn was on the bottom, and Clark was on the top. 

As he pulled his trousers on and started on his undershirt, Bollwyn looked up at Clark, “You ready to mingle with the Cardassians, Matty?”

“I’m ready to mingle. Whether or not it’s with Cardassians is yet to be determined,” Matthys’ grin grew into a more mischievous expression. He was only going to this event for two reasons: Samwell wanted him to, and it was an opportunity to socialise with perhaps some special beverages involved.

Matthys stood back and took a once over his friend; he then quickly moved in closer and adjusted Bollwyn’s comm badge to be a bit straighter. His hands brushed across his friend’s shoulders in a mock dusting motion. 

“Got to say Samwell. You clean up pretty good.” Matthys gave Bollwyn a playful wink and admiring expression.

“Come on, we best get ourselves to Ten Forward. Otherwise, the captain may tell us off for being late.”

Moments later, the two friends and bunkmates entered the lounge. The lighting was dimmed ever so slightly to assist with what appeared to be an evening lounge vibe. The room was full of officers in dress on both sides, and a collision of inaudible chatter filled the entryway where they stood.

“See any liquor, Samwell?” Matthy stated inquisitively, his eyes focused on surveying the room.

Bollwyn rolled his eyes at his friend. “Really? This so soon into the reception?” 

“Joking—joking, of course,” Matthys raised his hands in surrender. He had become quite attuned to just how far he could push his new friend and what he couldn’t get away with. Matthys nodded in agreement. There was time and place for letting loose, and while this was meant to be a social gathering, it certainly wasn’t the type of venue where they would be dancing with one another to the beats of some bass. Perhaps it was a mistake to accompany Bollwyn, after all; the longer he stood there, the more uptight Matthys felt during this whole event.

Looking around the room, Bollwyn suggested they grab something to eat on the long buffet table spread across the bar. “Let’s get something to eat and then mingle with our guests,” he said. 

Matthys nodded in agreement as he observed the spread, some of it looked appetizing from a distance at least. He was thankful he had not eaten earlier.

“Ensigns Bollwyn and Clark,” spoke a formal but friendly tone from behind them.

Turning around together, both men saw their department head approaching them with a couple of other Cardassians. Lieutenant Commander Velesa appeared to be in a good mood (in fact, she was usually sending out positive vibes) as she introduced the two Cardassians on either side of her. 

“This is Gil Mereska,” she said, pointing to the woman to her left before turning to the man to her right. “And this is Gil Larman.” 

“Welcome to the Columbia,” Bollwyn said with a nervous smile.

“Thank you,” Larman said with a pleasant tone. Mereska just bowed her head at her hosts.

“Samwell, these two will be joining you and Clark on your away mission to the McAllister C-Five nebula tomorrow afternoon,” Velesa said with confidence. 

Bollwyn blushed a bit as he noticed his friend looking at him. Instead of reacting to him straight away, Bollwyn told their guests and his superior he looked forward to it and then suggested he and Clark get their visitors some drinks. Both asked for a glass of Kanar. Bollwyn nodded and then pulled Clark away by the wrist toward the bar.

“So there’s something I need to tell you,” Bollwyn admitted in a hushed whisper.

Matthys remained as calm as he could in front of his superior and the Cardassian guests, for the most part, his usual neutral and slightly disintered look maintained its composure. This changed swiftly as he let Bollwyn pull him by the wrist to the bar. While his face had somewhat of a curious expression, there was also a sharpness in his eyes that looked like it wanted to cut straight through Bollwyn. “What exactly did you do, Samwell?” 

“Well, let’s just say I volunteered us for one of the joint missions, but I never expected for us to be picked,” Bollwyn remarked. “I’m sorry, Matty; I thought the commander would never have picked us for such an important mission.”

It had confirmed his suspicions at least, he had not heard their superior wrong when she had described this away mission that included Matthys’ participation. He groaned and rolled his eyes rather dramatically. This was not his idea of a good time. It involved being in a crowded small vessel without the comforts and conveniences the Columbia offered. No – in fact – this was his version of purgatory, that his own friend had gotten him into.

“I only got told this morning that I’d be leading the away mission, and I was thinking of a way to tell you,” Bollwyn said. “And anyway, you still owe me for that shift I covered for you!”  He playfully poked his friend on the chest. 

Matthys groaned again, he was wondering when this card would be played. Given how close the two of them had become as a result of his sickbay shift mishap, part of him thought that perhaps Bollwyn having to work that extra shift a month back had been mostly forgotten and old news by now. “I do owe you,” he stated flatly.

“Listen, it’s only a few days on one of our state-of-the-art runabouts,” Bollwyn pleaded. “Plus, you get to have the best bunk mate who promises to make it up to you when we get back?”

“A runabout. I suppose that’s not all that bad then.” Matthys pursed his lips together for a moment and pondered the situation over once more. “You’ll make it up to me, you say?” He continued, having picked apart the last part of his colleague’s statement. He gave Bollwyn an ever so rare smile, although it appeared eerily cheshire-like.

“Anything you want…” Bollwyn said and then paused “within reason!”

“If it were anyone else, Samwell,” Matthys stared him directly in the eyes, his expression returning to his normal slightly hateful look. He sighed once more and seemed to move into the acceptance stage of his grief process rather quickly.

“Fine. Just call us even on saving my rear-end a month ago.” Matthys stated and then looked at the kanar that was brought over for them by the bartender. He resisted the urge to gag, “this stuff smells vile, Samwell– if they offer us a sip, please take mine.”

The two men grabbed a glass of kanar for each of their new guests and went over to talk more with them. 

Jeden bounced on her toes in nervous anticipation as she heard Isan’s voice in her head from their time together at the academy, ‘Move, don’t let your opponent dictate the match, control it…‘  Across from her, her next opponent, Lieutenant Tra’vil ducked under the ropes of the sparring mat. 

She bit down on the mouthguard and grimaced. Though she generally disliked these classes she found them to be a good workout and boxing had been growing on her. She knew it was a skill set she needed to improve even when she expected to be on the losing end of the match given the size of her opponent. 

Her opponent nodded to her and reached out one of his gloved hands which he bumped with her own before she settled into her boxing stance. From the side of the sparring mat, the instructor blew her whistle and the match began. Remember all the instructions that Isan had drilled into her she moved quickly to her right and closed the distance. She ducked under a jab from him brought her fists up under his defence and felt a wave of satisfaction as they both connected before she jumped back to dodge his counter. Though she anticipated the strike her timing was off and she took a glancing strike across her helmet knocking her on her ass.

Before she got up the instructor blew her whistle pausing the match. “Ensign Sonia, that’s the match for you. Your CO wants a word.”

Jeden let out a disappointing sigh, as she took her gloves off before removing her helmet, “Thanks for the match Lieutenant, sorry I have to run.” He smiled and offered his gloved hand, “Always a pleasure Ensign, you are getting damn quick, a month ago you wouldn’t have been able to land those hits. Rematch next time?”

With her closed fist, she bumped his glove, “Definitely. But for now, I need to get out of these clothes, really worked up a sweat today. See you soon.” With that, she ducked under the rope and grabbed her combadge, quickly putting it back on her shirt.

Giving the instructor a quick nod she started to make her way to the showers as she tapped her combadge and called her CO. After a moment the Lieutenant Commander’s voice came over the coms, “Ensign Sonia,  I am sending you a data packet with your new orders. I want to lead a team to evaluate some of the wrecks in the scrapyard to determine if they are salvageable or if they need to be scuttled. Read them and get yourself ready for the reception I will meet you there and introduce you to your counterparts there.”

Jeden sighed as Ortega cut the channel. “Right, 90 minutes….” she said as she looked at the large clock on the wall before stepping into the shower room, “guess I cannot have a relaxing shower then…”

Looking down at her dress uniform Jeden absently mindedly brushed the sleeves and the jacket as if there was dust on it. She knew she was distracted by events almost 30 years in the past but knew she had to move past it. As with many Bajorans, she sometimes struggled with anything to do with the Cardassian military. Though she was born years after the occupation, it had claimed the lives of three of her grandparents and she keenly remembered the stories her parents and others used to tell her. As she thought about it, her hand touched the d’ja pagh hanging from her right ear, he rarely wore it but made a point to whenever she was in her dress uniform. “Times have changed,” she muttered under her breath as she thought back to growing up on DS9 and the handful of Cardassians who lived there; they had all been wonderful people.

With a final, forceful exhale, more of a snort, she straightened and stepped through the door into the ongoing reception. Between the slightly dimmed lights, soft background music and chatter she felt herself relax a little as she took in the scene. Looking around she saw most of the senior staff, except Commander Ortega, and several junior officers she was familiar with mingling with a number of Cardassians of various ranks. Her gaze stopped on the rather large buffet table across the bar and she couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, good food always wins me over,” she said with a smile before she made her way over to it, almost with a skip in her step. 

As she looked down at the wide variety of food she stopped when she saw the Cardassian meat rolls with Yamok sauce, the Larish pies and the Ikri buns. All items she was very familiar with and ranked in her favourites, though most food in general was.  “It would be a pity to let this go to waste,” she said with a grin as she selected one of each and put them on her plate. Taking a rather large bite of the roll she turned around and saw Samwell standing not far off as he ordered a drink with another ensign in a teal uniform she wasn’t familiar with. They made eye contact and she hurriedly nodded at him before he headed back into the crowd, slightly embarrassed as she realized she likely looked like a chipmunk with food in her mouth.

“Ensign Sonia, there you are,” came a stern yet very feminine voice from behind her.

Jeden stiffened and quickly put her plate down beside her on the table before turning around, and hurriedly chewed the remainder of the roll. “Commander Ortega, ah, hello,” she said as she covered her mouth.

“I would have expected you to come find me as soon as you got her Ensigned,” she said flatly while her eyes lingered on Jeden’s earring. “Thought…” her eyes shifted to the buffet, “I can understand the draw of the food.” Ortega grabbed the Ikri bun off the plate Jeden had been holding and smiled, “Did you have any questions about the mission?”

Jeden shook her head, “Not really, it seems straightforward enough. Assess each of the ships to determine if they can be salvaged. If possible outline what is needed to get it underway otherwise scuttle it.” She smiled, feeling confident that she could do the tasks with ease, “Oh, there was one, who will I be working with? I didn’t see any other crew members down.”

“That is because they aren’t from this crew,” Ortega said as she turned and gestured over to a young Cardassian man with strong features. “You will be working with Gil Nudras Droc. He is one of the junior engineers on the Daneer. Given that you are to check several Cardassian, Dominion and Federation ships it makes sense to have you work in a team though I understand you are familiar with Cardassian technology. I trust that won’t be a problem.”

“Yes, Commander,” Jeden said, “No, I mean that won’t be a problem.” 

“Good,” she responded just as Gil Droc stepped up. “Gil Droc, this is Ensign Sonia Jeden. You two will be working together for this mission. Get to know each other as you will both be very busy in the coming days.” With that Ortega grabbed another Ikri bun and walked into the crowd.

Jeden looked the young Cardassian over with an inquisitive eye before she smiled and held out her hand, “Gil Droc, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Ensign Sonia Jeden but you can call me Jeden.”

Nudras took her hand and nodded in greeting. “Ensign Sonia, a pleasure. I look forward to working with you. Most call me Droc,”  he remarked very formally.

Jeden sighed, “I don’t bite Droc. Come get some food.”

Droc visibility relaxed at that, “I could do with some food. Wonder if the Yamok sauce is decent.”

“It’s ok, not the best I’ve had but I am pretty sure it is replicated which would explain that. The meat rolls are pretty good and make up for the ok-ish sauce,” Jeden said as she handed Droc a plate with a meat roll. “You want a Larish pie? I haven’t had one yet but I am sure it is edible.”

He accepted the plate with a quick, “Thanks.” He took a quick bit, “You’re right, the sauce isn’t the best but it is passable.” With that, he put down the plate and looked at Jeden for a moment, “I want to get this out of the way. Will we be ok working together?”

Jeden cocked an eyebrow, fixed her glare on him and crossed her arms, waiting for the inevitable reason.

Droc shifted uncomfortably for a second and broke eye contact, “Because, well, you are a Bajoran and I’m Cardassian.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Jeden said giving him a disapproving stare before she smiled and let out a little laugh. “Sorry Droc, I couldn’t help myself. We will be fine. Neither of us where there though I would be lying if I said I had no connection to it, hadn’t lost family, most Bajorans did. I am sure some of my people will be signing up to this New Maquis madness because of the anger but that isn’t me. I grew up on DS9 and knew Cardassians there. Treat me as your equal and we will be fine.”

“Ok, I wanted to just get that out there in case it was going to be an issue,” he said with a nod. “I think what happened was horrible….”

“Stop,” she said with a bit more force than she intended. “We don’t need to do this. We are at a party, let’s enjoy ourselves and get to know each other. From how I read the mission brief it will be just us on those derelicts so you better get used to my chatting now.”

With a smile, she turned back to the table and added a selection of food to her plate and then gestured to the bar, “I don’t know about you but when I’m at a party I like to have a drink and enjoy myself though sadly this isn’t the type of party we can dance at.”

Droc matched her smile, “Food and a drink would be nice.” After a pause where he grabbed some more food, he continued, “Maybe some dancing wouldn’t hurt another time.”

“Well Droc, maybe, if you are well behaved we will see if that can be arranged,” Jeden said with a wicked smile. “But for now, let’s get that drink and go mingle. I can introduce you to some of the other lower deckers around here.”

“Come back to bed, Matthys,” the voice of Lieutenant Naomi Cross sounded. Her husband groaned beside her, “You better get up Owen, your shift starts in twenty minutes.” 

Matthys had once again spent the night as a guest in the Cross household – he had run into them both towards the end of the social gathering in Ten Forward the night prior. He had accepted their invitation to an afterparty and had parted ways with Samwell after making nice with their Cardassian guests. He had quickly developed a friendship with the husband and wife officers shortly after he first arrived to the Columbia – and they had been generous enough to let him use their quarters for a quiet space to paint when he was in the mood. He had been staying over for visits a lot less since he had become bunkmates with his friend Bollwyn.

Matthys was in the living area of their small shared quarters, planted in a corner where he had an assortment of paints spread across the palette he was holding. He mashed a couple of different colours together and then delicately added some to his brush before applying it to the canvas. It was the start of what would appear to be an abstract of the McAllister C-5 Nebula. The night prior he had learned that Samwell had voluntold him for a mission – a fact he had come to peace with quickly. He had not had much urge to sleep that night, so had snuck in some work on a gift that he intended to give to Samwell in recognition of his command of their away team. 

“What is that you’re working on?” Owen asked as he speedily rushed around the room gathering what he needed for the day. 

“Oh this…” Matthys looked at the canvas blankly for a moment before he fully answered, “it’s a nebula, I’m going to give to Sam…” He was abruptly cut off by Naomi who was now out of bed herself, clad in a silky and flowing robe. 

“A gift to Samwell you say.” Naomi crossed her arms and examined the work while she now stood beside Matthys. “It’s beautiful. You did this in a couple of hou– wait a minute. How come you’ve never painted something for us?” Her expression for a moment turned sour but evolved into a smile just as quickly as she had appeared by his side. 

Matthys groaned and rolled his eyes, “I didn’t say it was a gift. Just a memento I was going to give him after this away mission is done. He’s in command of it, you know, that’s a pretty big deal.” 

“So you told us. Only about a dozen times– right honey?” Owen added having finally gathered what he needed for the day. Owen playfully messed Matthys’ hair up, “It’s really sweet of you, Matthys. Although a gift is usually something you give someone, ya know. I’ve got to shower and then get to my shift. Don’t be a stranger, Matthys, eh?” Owen finished, gave his wife a quick peck on the lips, ruffled Matthys’ hair once more and then made his departure.

“What’s going on between the two of you? This Samwell and you?” Naomi asked as she assumed a seat near Matthys on the chair to his left. 

“Nothing is going on. He’s a friend.” Matthys responded curtly and continued to work on the painting.

“Right. And I’m the Queen of Betazed,” Naomi playfully slapped Matthys’ shoulder with the back of her hand. “Matthys. Owen and I have only known you a short while, granted, but we both have seen just how much you’ve changed since Ensign Bollwyn came into your life. You didn’t seem to care at all about being here, and now you’re going on an away mission and painting a memento for your friend.”

“He’s just a friend, Naomi. I can’t argue the fact that he somehow makes me want to be better than I am, but that doesn’t mean something is going on.” Matthys looked up at his friend and gave her a somewhat stern expression, it indicated that she best not push her narrative any further.

“Fine fine. How about you at least have him over to dinner sometime with Owen and I?” Naomi grinned as she put the invite out there in the open.

“I might consider having him over for a meal but that’s all that it’ll be – he’s far too straight edge for your famous afterparties.” Matthys took his paintbrush and waved it in Naomi’s face before returning it to the canvas. He continued to expand on the outer edge of the nebula as it met the darkness of space.

“A meal. That’s all. I promise.” Naomi stood back up and secured her robe. “I’m going back to bed. I suggest you either come lay down or return to those awful lower deck bunks for some shut eye, you’ll need some rest before you take off on that fun adventure with your friend,” she finished and gave Matthys a wink and playful slap on the shoulder once more before she returned to her bed.

“I’ll be done this soon and then I’m going to get back to that sad excuse of a quarters area us ensigns are graced with. Thanks again to you and Owen for your… hospitality,” Matthys replied softly and continued to work on finishing his creation.

Bollwyn, accompanied by his guests, stepped into the vast Shuttlebay One. This was a part of the ship he rarely visited, and a wave of unease washed over him. His guests, the Gils, dressed in their typical Cardassian uniforms, carried their belongings in bags slung over their shoulders. Bollwyn had offered to have their items beamed directly to the Chawla, the Arrow-class runabout they would use for their survey mission near the McAllister C-5 nebula, but both politely declined, their eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. 

Larman looked at Bollwyn as they approached the Chawla. “I assume we will each have our own quarters?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Bollwyn shook his head. “I’m afraid not; we will be sharing bunks. Is that okay with you?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of concern.

“Oh, Larman, did you really just ask such a question?” Mereska asked, shaking her head in disbelief. She turned to Bollwyn, her tone laced with a hint of annoyance. “Please excuse my colleague’s ignorance, Ensign Bollwyn.”

“Hey, it’s no issue,” Bollwyn said, remaining calm. “I’ve already given you two your own cabin with adjustable environmental controls. I know it may not be the luxury that you’re used to-”

“It will suffice, thank you,” Mereska interjected hastily, smiling to show her appreciation.

Pleased to hear that, Bollwyn approached the rest of his team, who were waiting for him. The moment he saw Clark, he felt less anxious and gave Clark a look, suggesting he was pleased to see him. “I think you both remember Ensign Matthys Clark from last night’s reception,” He said, introducing his friend to their guests. “And these two are Ensigns Nitala and Mkana, who will join us for this mission.” He gestured towards the newcomers, a smile playing on his lips.

Kneeling at the side of the runabout, Mkana was checking the engineering stats on the craft. It was going to be an interesting journey, and after the Borg space mission, Mkana didn’t want to get any funny surprises. He noticed the group coming and stood up and walked to them. “Good day, welcome…my name is Ensign Mkana, and I will join you on this journey” He gave a nod in the direction of Bollwyn. 

“Nice to see you again,” Matthys said, giving a brief and curt nod to the two Cardassian officers. His gaze then quickly returned to Bollwyn, and he smiled at his friend as if to confirm for him somehow that he had this all under control. 

Nitala nodded to the guests, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She replied in short.

“A Human, a Barzan, a Ventaxian, and a Romulan—Starfleet is certainly becoming more diverse these days,” Mereska remarked. “At this rate, who knows, you may end up recruiting Larman to join Starfleet by the end of this mission.”

“Starfleet wouldn’t know how to handle me,” Darman responded. “Can we get settled and underway?”

Realising that this mission may be extremely awkward, Bollwyn nodded and requested that his colleagues get them underway. “Nitala, if you would do the honours of bringing the Chawla fully operational, and then Mkana if you could pilot us out of the shuttlebay,” he said.

“Understood,” Mkana briefly stated as he walked to the pilot’s seat and sat down. He started to set up the navigational and engine systems. He waited for Nitala to get the ship operational before proceeding with the undocking procedure. 

“Understood,” Nitala replied before approaching one of the controls and began to bring the Chawla to operational status.

Bollwyn turned to Clark; he was already regretting volunteering them for this mission. “Matty, would you please show our guests their cabin so they can store their belongings?” 

“Of course. My pleasure.” Matthys gave Bollwyn a quick wink out of the vision of their guests and then quickly gestured to them both, “If you will be so kind to follow me.”

Bollwyn mouthed a ‘thank you’ as Clark took over from him and led their Cardassian guests inside. 

As soon as they were settled, Bollwyn entered the cockpit where Mkana and Nitala were located. “Are we good to go?”

“Engines green, navigational systems green, buoys course plotted. I just need to get clearance from Columbia for launch,” Mkana stated in the direction of Bollwyn and tapped onto the console. “Chawla to Columbia, we request clearance for launch.”

“We are fully operational and ready to launch,” Nitala shared.

Within moments, Matthys and the two Cardassian officers stood in their designated cabin. The bunks reminded Matthys of his own home on the Columbia – at least, this was a bit more private. He gestured to a small display control panel to their left, “You can manually adjust the environmental controls of the cabin using this control panel or through voice control. If adjusting temperature or humidity levels, I would suggest doing so in small increments; the environmental systems on these new runabouts are top of the line and are usually quite responsive.” 

Larman nodded his head to Clark. “Thank you, ensign,” He replied as he and Mereska placed their belongings into their private compartments. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be present in your command centre when we depart.”

“They call it a cockpit,” Mereska corrected him.

Matthys grinned and held back a chuckle. That term had always struck him funny when someone said it, and it seemed even more amusing coming from a Cardassian, for some reason. “Of course—follow me once more,” he gestured in the other direction with his arm and then began the short journey forward.

In the cockpit, Bollwyn was about to take the co-pilot’s chair when he heard the footsteps of their guests and Clark. Turning around to face them, he offered for them to take their places at two of the aft stations. “Shall we get underway?” he asked before commanding them to depart at once. 

Their mission was underway. 

The lightless and battle-scared corridors of the USS Geronimo stood as a testament to the totality of the Dominion War. The once pristine Akira class had been reduced to an empty husk by the Breen energy weapon and subsequent bombardment as it had made its retreat leaving only its saucer section and its port strut and nacelle intact. Debris floated throughout the ship, as the two swirls of blue light appeared providing the first illumination for a quarter of a century, vanishing to leave two figures behind.

“Welcome to the USS Geronimo Gil Droc,” Sonia said as she turned to face him. The headlamps from their EVA suits provide the only light onboard the ship.

“She appears to be in better shape than the CDS Bazal, Etrace and the USS Nairobi. The CDS ships took heavy fire as the Federation ships made their way into the system and the Nairobi, I am not sure why we even looked, there wasn’t even a quarter of it left. This one may actually have something salvageable,” Droc said as he looked past Sonia and towards the opened door to engineering.

Sonia shrugged, “We had to check her, same with the CDS ships. Her engineering section was mostly intact, and the Maquis could have found something.”

“True,” the young Cardassian commented as he looked around again. “Let’s hurry up, these ships feel eerie like this. Cardassian or Federation, too many people died on them. I wouldn’t be surprised if we found a body left behind.”

Sonia began to make her way forward and stopped at that comment. She would be lying if she had said it hadn’t crossed her mind either. “The Federation, Klingons, Romulans and the Cardassians went through all their ships at the war’s end. They put a lot of time into the recovery operations in the system so there shouldn’t be any bodies but if we do find one, we make sure they get the proper burial they deserve.”

Droc nodded as he stepped up behind her, “That goes without saying.”

“Damn right,” Sonia remarked as they made their way into engineering. Pulling out her tricorder she began to run a detailed scan of the equipment. Switching off her magnetic boots she pushed upwards and grabbed hold of the railing on the second floor before looking back down at Droc as he knelt beside one of the access panels looking inside. “Systems are completely offline, not that it’s a surprise…” Sonia said absently,

“If there was power that would be something else,” Droc responded as he stood up and turned to look up at Sonia. “I thought you said these ships were stripped down after the war ended? The Nairobi had been picked clean but these power conduits look almost as good as new.”

“Really? That’s odd, I read the report, and the teams did a full recovery on her. Maybe they just missed one,” Sonia said as she stepped up to the warp core and stopped when the tricorder flashed. “Right, I think the recovery team missed more than one thing. I think this warp core is salvageable at least. Possibly even more of the equipment here from what my scans are showing.”

With that she turned and dropped from the second floor, the zero gravity letting her land softly, “We best go check other systems but this may be our first candidate for salvage. Hell, the core seems ok at first glance they may be able to get her powered up if engineering works a miracle.”

Droc just nodded as he looked around, “Where to next?”

“The main armoury, medical and then the shuttle bay,” Sonia said as she made her way to the door.

Forty-five minutes later they found themselves standing outside the main shuttle bay. Droc looked over at Sonia, a quizzical look on his face, “If I were a betting man I would say there will be some shuttles in there. The original savage team didn’t do a good job so far.”

“There was a lot of work to do after the war, the recovery work must have been focused on the bodies more than the hardware,” Sonia remarked though she couldn’t help but feel it had been a security lapse. If the New Maquis had found this ship and stripped it they would have a significant amount of weapons. “Given the almost full complement of torpedoes, medical gear and small arms on here I half expect to find the full fighter wing. Either way, though the Columbia will need to send over a full salvage team and an engineering detail to see if they they could get the core online again.”

The Cardassian let out a snort at the remark, “Do you think your engineers could get this core back online and even repair the ship?”

Sonia shrugged as she pried open the panel beside the door to the main shuttle bay to access the manual controls. “The core? Sure. As for the ship? Not here but…at a shipyard, maybe? Maybe they could.” She moved the panel aside, letting it drift away slowly in the zero gravity and stepped back as she shot Droc a crooked smile, “Seems jammed, use those muscles of yours will you?”

With a roll of his eyes, Droc stepped up beside Sonia, “Fine.” With that, he grabbed the lever and grunted as he pulled it into place. With a click, the door popped open a couple of centimetres.

“Great,” Sonia said as she grabbed the door and gave it a tug which caused it to slide open enough to squeeze through. Before her, in the vast hanger bay of the Akira sat multiple shuttle craft and runabouts, some with their clamps still in place, others adrift within the enclosed space.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she muttered. “It is not a fighter wing but two runabouts and some shuttles is something to report back for sure.” She made her way further into the bay in disbelief as Droc squeezed through the door, “Safe to say, I think they forgot some equipment….” 

“You could say that again,” Droc said as he made his way to the closest runabout clamped only a few metres away. “Shall we check these out and see if they can be salvaged?” 

Sonia looked back and forth between Droc and the shuttles for a moment, “Yeah, you check that one I will check out this one over here.” She turned and pushed off the deck plating and drifted towards the runabout further into the bay. Just as her mag boots clicked back onto the floor Droc’s voice came over the com.

“Ensign Jeden, get over here right away.”

“On my way, what is it?” 

“Sadly, nothing good.”

A few moments later Sonia stepped up beside Droc, who stood outside the opened hatch. “What is it?”

He nodded towards the hatch, “They didn’t recover everyone.”

“What?” Sonia said as she stepped towards the hatch, her head turned to look at Droc.

“They didn’t recover everyone,” Droc repeated again, his voice pained.

A sinking feeling grew in her stomach as she stepped into the runabout and looked into the main cockpit. “Oh my god,” she gasped. Without pause she opened a com channel to the Columbia, “Columbia, this is Ensign Jeden. I need a full medical team on the Geronimo. There a bodies of the crew still on board.”

“Repeat that again Ensign?” Came the voice over her coms.

“There are,” she paused as she looked around, “six, no seven bodies in the cockpit of one of the runabouts. I need a medical team to assist with ID and, handling.”

“Understand, medical has been informed and a team will be with you shortly.”

Sonia stood there for another moment as she looked at the desecrated bodies. “I am so sorry,” she whispered before stepping out of the runabout and returning to stand beside Droc. 

“This shouldn’t have happened,” she said after a moment.

“None of it should have,” Droc said quietly. “Everything that war causes should never have happened.”

Sonia sat and stared out the window of the Lower Deck Social area lost in thought. It didn’t help that she could see the bulk of the Geronimo not far off from the Columbia surrounded by a flurry of activity as shuttle crafts and engineering crews crawled over her hull. The lights from the ship were clearly visible after an engineering team successfully restarted the core.

She barely registered when a cup was set beside her and Gil Droc sat down. “How are you doing Sonia?” he asked before he reached over and felt her up. “Your tea has gone cold.”

“Hmm?” was all she said before realizing that he was talking to her. “Sorry, was somewhere else.”

“I told you not to listen to the recording,” he said. “There are medical teams and specialists for that.” He frowned, “Well there are on some of our ships, I assume the Federation has them as well.”

Sonia sighed and leaned back, stretching her neck as she did, “I needed to hear it. Wish I didn’t but it was their last words.”

“It could have been worse I guess, more crew trapped,” she continued. “I just cannot shake the realization they had when they couldn’t get the clamps to release, let alone power up the runabout. That with the decompression of the bay trapped them. They deserved better.”

Droc nodded, “They did. But now they will be put to rest with full honours. If we hadn’t checked that ship who knows how long they would have remained there. If the Maquis had found them I don’t know if they would have treated them with the respect they deserved.” He reached out, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. He began to speak and paused for a moment, “I…I don’t know how spiritual you are but if I recall the Bajorans will light a duranja during the period of mourning. Would that be something you would like to do?”

Sonia sat in silence for a long moment before nodding, “Yeah, that would be nice.” She started to stand and looked back at Droc, “You know a lot about Bajoran cultural practices, how come, beyond the occupation and such?”

“Our people have a long history even before the occupation. Sadly most of it isn’t anything my people should be proud of,” Droc responded. “I like to learn from our past and the cultures linked to it so that those same mistakes don’t happen again.” 

Sonia cocked her head at him for a moment and set out a single laugh, “You are not what I expected from a Cardassian military officer Gil Droc. In a good way.” With that, she turned and made her way to leave before she stopped and called back, “What are you sitting around for? I’m not going to light it alone. Come on.”

The Cardassian let out a faint chuckle and nodded, “Lead the way.”