The Plains of Montana

The newest station in the far reaches of Federation Space is nearing completion.

TPOM 001 – The Build

Montana Station - Starbase 406
10.15.2401

“Don’t tell me.  Tuesday.”  The yeoman cringed as she walked beside Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana.  He had arrived six hours ago to take command of the still-under-construction Starbase 406.  Yeoman Deborah Porter had been on the station for the last three months, working with the various command and engineering officers involved in building the massive station.  Fontana had been brought on a month ago when the intended commanding officer had found out just how far the station was from anywhere and promptly retired from Starfleet.

She replied, “We’ve got most of the cargo transporters operational, and half of the transporters are online.  The main hospital is operational, and the chief medical officer is expected to arrive tomorrow.”

They turned a corner, Geronimo keeping a brisk pace, “We’ll all be glad to have Halsey around – the man can run a sickbay.”  He slowed to a stop, running through the list on his PADD, “Looks like most of our folks are going to be getting in tomorrow or the next day.  Walton give you any trouble?”

Porter held her answer.  She’d been able to piece together the truth that most of the senior staff was a collection of officers from Fontana’s task force.  Understanding the complex relationships that were about to collide at Montana Station had nearly overwhelmed her.  He was referring to Captain Wren Walton, and Porter spoke plainly, “She wasn’t thrilled when I used your name and was further unhappy that I wasn’t able to tell share with her what her orders were to be once she arrived.”

He chuckled, “That seems to be her default.  The Perseverance still expected to arrive tonight?”  She checked her notes and nodded.  Fontana picked up his speed, “Douglas tomorrow, Dragonfly the day after.  Any word from the Tholians?”

“Nothing.  As the sensors have been installed, we’ve been able to pick up some ships on the edge of the border.  The science teams think once we’ve got the entire sensor suite operational, we’ll be able to pick up a little more distance.  We’re waiting for Lieutenant Atega and her team to assist with communications.”

He skidded to a stop, “You haven’t asked why I assembled this team, ensign.”

Porter hesitated, “Didn’t seem my place, Fleet Captain Fontana.”

He shook his head, “Captain Fontana will do just fine, Porter.  Fontana is even better. Geronimo, if I’ve upset you.  If we’re going to work together, you’re going to have to be honest with me.”  He returned to his pace, and she followed as he explained, “They’re all folks I either worked with when I was Task Force Command or a captain working with their captain.  They’re people that give a damn, and they are damn good at what they do.  We need them if we’re going to make any kind of difference out here on the edge.”

She slowed, “Was I intentional?”

He turned, “You came before me, Ensign Porter.  I read your dossier – the full transcript.  You were only scheduled to be here for the final construction period.  You would have ended up on another ship or station.”

“And…you wanted me?  Even after that file?  Flee…Captain Fontana -I was surprised I lasted as long as I did…sir.”

He walked back to her, his eyes meeting hers, “I’m not in the business of letting perfectly capable people go anywhere but where they’ve earned their place.  You’re here for the long haul, Porter.”  He started walking, and she stared in muted silence until he turned around, “Ensign Porter, you coming?”

She opened her mouth and closed it.  She wasn’t sure what this fleet captain was thinking, but suddenly, there was a chance she would be able to stay.  She was going to take it.  “On my way, Captain Fontana.”

TPOM 002 – That Which We Love

Montana Station - Starbase 406
10.16.2401

“She’s beautiful.”  Lieutenant Greer Moore stared at the sight of the Canopus Class starbase from the observation lounge of the USS Douglas.  She sat across the table from Commander Miados.  Both were former Chief Engineers from the Douglas and the Dragonly, respectively.

Miados felt the memories of her symbiont reflecting on the journey.  She had left in frustration when she’d lost her department head position on the Mackenzie with a transfer to the Dragonfly.  She nearly walked away from Starfleet entirely.  A chance call from Fleet Captain Fontana had intrigued her enough to make the trip to see what he had been offering.  She and Moore had spent the trip examining the schematics for Montana Station, fascinated at the construction process and progress.  Miados commented, “She’s still in pieces, poor girl.  They’re still scrambling to get those last parts installed.”  

Greer turned back to her fellow engineer, “You haven’t said much.”  Most of their conversations had been at the technical level.  She noted how the commander had steered way from a deeper dialogue.

“They promoted me to get me out here.  Fontana called me and told me there was nobody else he wanted me out here.  He told me he’d done his research.”

Greer detected something in her tone, “You think he lied to you?”  Fontana was a lot of things, she knew, but a liar?  That was a new one.

“No.  I think he saw what happened to me and knew my dossier well enough.  I was ready to walk away from all this.  I was ready to find a quiet place to live and tinker my time away in the shade of some gentle tree in the middle of nowhere.”

Greer’s smile took a turn for the wry, “But you weren’t ready.”

Miados rolled her eyes, “I wasn’t even close to ready.  The minute that damn man called, I had to slap my hands over my mouth.  You never want to look too eager.  I got the offer of a lifetime: a Canopus class.  That’s one class down from a Starbase I.  I made him wait.”

“While you danced across your quarters?”

“You seem familiar with the move.” Miados was starting to like Greer a little more.

Greer’s smile widened, “I’m not proud of my dancing, but I did.  I was going to wait for either a station or a planet base.  Hell, I worked a few favors to see if I could hold down a desk back home.  Fontana’s call changed it all.”  Her smile faded as she confessed, “I love working out in space too much.  Station’s the next stable thing besides a starship.”

Miados agreed, “Sitting here…being this close to her…there’s something sacred with us engineers.  We feel more than we probably should about the ships and stations we work on.  I knew when I saw her…I knew I was in trouble.  I wasn’t going to be able to say no.”  She grumbled, “Damned Fontana.  He knows how to get to you.

A crisp voice echoed through the lounge, “Shuttle to Montana Station boarding now.”

Greer stood, “That’s our shuttle.”  She stood, staring with Miados at the glittering station.  “You still love it after all these years, don’t you.”

The Trill pursed her lips. “I fear the day I stop loving doing what we do, Greer.”  She took one last look, feeling the connection to the station deepen in her heart. “Let’s go meet her.”

 

TPOM 003 – Something in the Grass

Montana Station - Starbase 406
10.17.2401

“Track the signal.”  Captain Elbert Burton stood behind his deputy chief in the communications center onboard Montana Station.  They’d started work early that morning, and he’d been putting her through the paces.  Lieutenant Presley Atega had come from the USS Douglas as chief communications officer.  He’d feared she was going to throw up or keel over when she’d walked into the massive Communications Operations Center.  Her eyes had darted wildly across the expansive circular room.  They’d walked through the various rows of stations, identifying the docking operations team, the medical dispatching team, the operations reporting teams, and the civilian coordinator teams.  Finally, they had reached the center of the oval where the senior communications operators and officers worked.  That is where Atega sat with Burton watching.  The large room was understaffed, with the station construction lagging.

Atega sat at the DEP COM console, her eyes watching the screen as she tracked the errant signal that had suddenly appeared a few minutes after she had sat down.  “It’s weak, but the stack has a lock.”  She had been studying the capacity of the Canopus class station, amazed at the power that operated all around them – and there was still more to come.  “It’s registering as being in or near Tholian space.”

Elbert grimaced, “I had a feeling.”  He moved to the larger console labeled CO COM, “See what boosts you can calibrate.  If it’s a Tholian ship, we will have to involve diplomatic operations and probably even JAG.  Two of my favorite departments.”  

Atega suppressed a smile at his sarcasm and asked, “Do we even have those departments staffed, sir?”

Burton grumbled, “Given how much of this place is still coming together, your guess is as good as mine.”

 

“Goddamn it.”  Commander Grace Albright jumped out of her shower, grabbing the alarming PADD.  They couldn’t have waited until she was on her way to the command center.  She read the first few lines and felt her annoyance fall away.  A signal from the edges of Tholian space?  She quickly checked herself in the mirror as she threw her uniform on.  Her being sent to Montana Station had not been subtle, and neither had the words from her former commanding officer.  She rechecked herself in the mirror, annoyed that her hair would be a work in progress on her run to the communications center.  The transporters were still giving the engineering team fits.  She stepped out of her quarters and started working at taming her hair when her stalwart assistant caught up with her.

“Grace…this is big!  This is…big!”  Ensign Jane Matthews was shorter than Grace at 5 feet, but her energy made up for the difference.  Grace was convinced someone had replaced Jane’s heart with a warp core in some bizarre transplant gone wrong.  She was wired for sound, weapons, shields, and warp speed – all simultaneously.

Grace had long ago given up trying to ignore the energetic assistant.  Doing that only made it worse.  That had been a long first morning. “One of these days, you’ll listen to me when I tell you to breathe between the four cups of coffee you seem to down before the sun rises.”

Jane protested, “It’s only two so far today. I’ve been cutting back.  The good news is that the jitters and the shaking are gone for the most part.”

The Chief of Diplomatic Operations walked as fast as ever. Still, her assistant kept up, chattering away about how big it was that the Tholians were reaching out after the station had been under construction for so long.  She commented about the distance calculations to avoid upsetting the Tholians and how that had slowed things down.  They passed through several large corridors, up a turbolift or two, and down the hallway to the Communications Operations Center.  All the way, Ensign Jane Matthews talked about what this could mean for the station if the Tholians were reaching out this soon and that maybe they could change the future of the relationship and did you try the donuts from that new shop? Albright came to a stop, and Matthews nearly collided with her, “Ma’am?”

“You know how I feel about donuts, Ensign Matthews.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Send me the location of the shop at your first chance.” She turned to the doors leading them into the operations center, “You know the rules once we step in there.”  It wasn’t a question.

“I let you talk.”

“And if you have something to say?”

“Unless it’s a matter of life and death, I must wait to talk to you privately about it.” Grace stared at her, waiting for the rest of the answer they had practiced.  Jane sighed, defeated.  “Not my version of life and death, but yours.”

Albright smiled for the first time that morning, “Good. Now follow me.”  They walked through the doors and made straight for the center of the oval. Grace power-walked up to the center’s CO, ” I heard you had something, Captain Burton.”

He glanced up from the console he was standing at, amused.  “Considering we notified you, Lieutenant Albright, yes.  We have something.  We’ve picked up a curious signal.  We’ve clarified that it’s just on the border of Tholian and Federation space – contentious as it can be on a good day.  We don’t have a science team yet, so Commander Thasaz is up in the Central Command Center working to identify what she can. The rest of the sensor stack is coming – tomorrow is our best estimate.”  He motioned her to the large console screen, “It entered our range about three hours ago but didn’t start transmitting until thirty minutes ago.  It’s small, whatever it is.  As for what it’s saying, we’re not sure.  Your work with the Tholians give you any ideas?”

Grace shook her head, “It’s either a new spy satellite that’s gone active or being built to check on us…or a ship in distress.  Getting close to the border with a ship is not advised. Tholians are not friendly to visitors or well-wishers.  Oddly, they’re just…sitting there.”  She looked from Burton’s screen to Atega’s, “Is the signal being pointed everywhere?”

Lieutenant Atega tasked the limited sensors to analyze the contact.  She reported, “No, it’s aimed directly at us.”

Grace turned to Burton, “I think you’re going to need to alert Fontana – whatever we do next will have to be signed off by the highest-ranked officer on this boat.”

Elbert agreed, “Atega – let the Fleet Captain know we’re coming to his office…and bringing a crowd.”
 

TPOM 004 – The Fellowship Grows

Montana Station - Starbase 406
10.17.2401

“Options?”  Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana sat at his desk in his office.  The group that had traveled from the communications operations center stood before him, having explained what they knew.

Captain Elbert Burton answered, “We won’t have full sensor and communications capacity for another few days—the rest of the install is due over the next few days or, worst case, a week.”  His interest in this scenario was purely technical. He turned to the junior diplomatic chief, “Lieutenant Albright is our Tholian expert.”

Grace gave an appreciative nod, “We know any attempt at crossing the border will make things infinitely worse.  The station’s position was carefully planned to avoid upsetting the Tholians.  The initial plans were to be closer to the border, but the little communication we received about our inquiries was pretty hostile.  As we walked here, I thought we could send a science ship on a meandering path that would take it close enough to get a better picture of whatever it was.”

Fontana had taken Albright’s assignment as a message.  She was under-ranked for her time and service, not to mention her position.  Her dossier was a mess of personality and hubris mixed with commanding officers who refused to put up with her antics.  He replied, “If we put a ship in motion, you’re going along.  If they get excited, we will need a diplomatic officer to help finesse whatever issues arise.”

Another nod from Grace, “Not a problem.”

He gave her a curious look, “That remains to be seen.  Report to the USS Perseverance within the hour.  A fair warning – the CO is being assigned to the ship within the next ten minutes.” Albright moved to ask for details, but he put up a hand, “It’s complicated.  One hour.”  Albright and the rest of the group left the office, leaving Burton alone with Fontana.  “Elbert, you have thoughts, I presume?”

The communications chief slid into the chair opposite the squadron CO, “None of this was in the briefing you sent me, Ger.”  He leaned in, “The deputy chief is still pretty new to this whole thing, and that diplomatic officer is probably certifiable.”

“We’re not a year removed from Frontier Day.  The fact that we are this far along with construction on this station is some kind of miracle.  Staffing was always going to be a challenge…and I tried.  Elbert, I tried.  You’d think a former Task Force CO would have more luck?  Nobody’s having any luck out there.  Flexibility is the name of the game, and we will need to keep doing our daily stretches.”

Burton pursed his lips, annoyed at his old friend.  “You have a certain way about you, Ger.  Why do you have to be so…positive about things?”

Fontana shrugged, “It’s that or be neurotic like you, Elbert.”  He slipped a sly smile at the end as Burton’s eyes widened and his blood pressure presumably spiked.

“You are an impossible friend.”

“But not an impossible commanding officer?”

Burton rolled his eyes as he stood and headed out the door, “We’ll see, Ger.  We’ll see.”

 

“Welcome aboard the USS Perseverance.”  Fontana led Captain Wren Walton and Commander Park onto the bridge of the Pathfinder class starship.  “You have a chief operations and a chief medical officer on their way.  The rest weren’t expected until much later, but we didn’t expect the Tholians to surprise us this early.”

Wren searched the expansive bridge, her eyes cautiously examining each console. “You weren’t going to send us out right away, were you?”  She hesitantly walked to the center chair, her fingers gingerly brushing over it. “Why are we here, Fontana?”

“You failed at commanding the Dragonfly, Walton.”

She stared at the center chair and swung back, “That wasn’t my question, and you know it.”  Wren turned to face her commanding officer, “Why here…and why you?”

Geronimo had prepared himself for a challenging conversation with the once-rising star captain.  It still wasn’t an easy dialogue to have.  “I asked for you, Wren.”  He indicated the silent Park, “Both of you.”

Commander Park broke her silence, blurting an annoyed, “Why?”  She felt Wren’s stare, but in a rare moment, she ignored it and kept her eyes on Fontana.

He indicated the bridge, “Because you’re good at this…and I need good people.  Perseverance is the right size and mission for both of you.”  The mention of Park’s science background gave her cause to blush, a quiet smile her response.  “I’ve called up a helm officer and a skeleton support crew – they’ll be here in fifteen.  Lieutenant Albright will be your diplomatic attaché – she’s studied the Tholians for most of her career.  You leave in an hour.”

Walton stared at him for a moment longer, then tore her focus away to search the bridge, “I don’t suppose we’re welcome anywhere else if we were thinking about saying no.”

The fleet captain held his comforting smile in reserve and replied, “You’re getting a second chance, Wren.  Whatever you do, you’ll have to do it here.”  He waited for her answer.

Wren quietly sighed.  Her career had taken twists and turns over the years, but this development had even surprised her.  She decided she hadn’t entirely fallen from grace, but she’d need to start climbing back to the top of the mountain.

“Then that’s what I will do, Fleet Captain Fontana.”  She stood at attention, and he gave her one last look before departing the bridge.

Park turned to her, eyes guarded, “Not a lot of time to feel about this before we shove off.”

Walton tapped at the console on the command chair, “We can feel it later.  We’ve got a Tholian question to answer.”
 

TPOM 005 – 72 Hours

Montana Station - Starbase 406
10.17.2401

“Those are the applications for various shops on the promenade.  I’ve removed five of them for not following the brief.  That leaves five for your review.”  Ensign Deborah Porter handed her CO, Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana, the PADD.  “There will be more to come as the station comes together.”

Geronimo scanned the offerings, “West Yellowstone Coffee.  Glasgow Steakhouse.  Billings Confectionary.  Fort Peck Pub.”  He mused, “They got the names right, at least.”

Deborah smiled thinly, “Most of their business plans and operational systems are functional within standards, but I’d like some leeway to ensure they operate beyond standards.”

He waited for her to continue, gesturing at her hesitance, “Explain.”

“I want whatever I work on or wherever I serve to be the best, sir.  I came here to push to make this a place people talk about, even back on Earth.  I didn’t make many friends in that process…but it’s important to me – whatever I am a part of, I want to make it shine.” She shifted on her feet, “You giving me the chance to stay is what I’ve needed.  I’ve never been anywhere long enough to really, well…do anything beyond preparation work before they shipped me onto the next.”

Geronimo steepled his fingers, “You really want this, don’t you.”  She gave a barely restrained nod in reply.  “We’ve got a long way to get to where we’re known back on Earth…I’ll settle for being one of the lighthouses in the rimward spaces out here.”  He picked up a PADD. “Speaking of – it looks like they recently transferred operational control of the Joint Base Dathon to our Task Force.  It’s us, them, Starbase 400, and Deep Space 20 – not as crowded as it is back home, but the sky seems to be filling up around here.”

She frowned, “That’s the Children of Tama station.”

“A problem?”

Grace pursed her lips in thought.  It had been a year since she’d been there.  “I…don’t imagine it will be.  I ran up against a few mid-level engineering and operations teams a year ago on assignment.”

He replied, “I don’t think I’ll have reason to send you there in the near future. It’s a long trip out there.”

A voice from his desk broke through, “Fleet Captain Fontana, we have a priority one message from the Perseverance on an encrypted channel in Central Command Operations.”

“On our way.”

He walked down the stairs and hit the ground moving, reaching the DEP CMDR section of the expansive operations center.  He nodded to his newly assigned XO, Captain Peter Crawford, who monitored the situation.  “Put them through.”

The large screen at the station flickered, and Captain Wren Walton appeared, sitting on her bridge, “Fontana.”  She gave him the rundown and the details that they had.  “Our initial evaluation is that it’s not intended as a tactical or defensive structure.  Commander Park thinks they’re looking to have a way to see what we’re up to over here.  Lieutenant Albright is in agreeance.  We’ve attempted to contact the station or the Tholians for the last hour, but nothing yet.”

Geronimo turned to Crawford, “Thanks for coming into this so quickly – I know you didn’t expect to tackle something right when you arrived.  Evaluation?”

Peter tapped at the consoles, adjusting the screens, “Perservence is a science ship – she’s got a lot of ways to look and see.  It’s been some time since we scanned that part of space anyway.  Gives us a few days to circle back around to see what progress they’ve made.”

Fontana turned to Walton on the screen, “Let’s give it three days, captain.  Plot a scanning map of the area and see what that new ship can see and identify.” Wren nodded and closed the channel. Her face had filled in her silence.  Fontana knew she wasn’t happy about being thrown into the deep end.  She was a complicated case sometimes.  She was still damned good at doing her job.  He turned to Crawford, “Harris Transport is expected in a few hours – I’ll take the CONN for a bit.”

Peter chuckled, “You don’t want to deal with Rachel Harris.”

“She’ll appreciate meeting you, I think.”  Crawford stood at attention and departed, and Fontana returned his eyes to the station.  He wasn’t about to admit it, but the connection to her son made meeting her complicated.

TPOM 006 – Reunions

Montana Station - Starbase 406
10.17.2401

“Captain – we’ve got a group of transport ships coming in under the designation of Harris Transport.”  The dock officer on duty was running the Docking Operations Center (DOC) and had been asked by Captain Peter Crawford if he could observe.  He was walking Crawford through the procedures.  “We’ve accounted for most of the transport group and verified their cargo, but two additional ships were not on the list.”

Peter glanced at the console, “Well, one of those is the SS Harris, which I suspect will have our leading representative onboard.  The other…” he scrolled down, “…is more of a mystery.  Hail the SS Harris.”  He turned to the screen and was soon greeted by the sight of Rachel Harris, CEO of Harris Transport and Trading Industries.  “Ms. Harris.  Captain Peter Crawford, Montana Station.”

She gave him a curt nod, “Can you clarify as to the delay of our docking and offloading, captain?’’

“I can.  I’m sending you an irregularity report.  I need to know if they’re yours or not. Given the large number of ships you brought with you…,”

She pulled up his report on her device and frowned, “That is not one of ours, Captain Crawford.  They must have joined our convoy late in our journey.  Given the readings I’m seeing, it appears The Syndicate is attempting to filter into your station.  I suppose you’d like to handle this yourself?”  

He returned her sly smile and turned to the console, tapping out orders, “I’m dispatching Douglas and Dragonfly to deal with them – the sight of an Obena class coming at you will make anyone second guess their plans.  One moment.” He slid into the chair and tracked the two ships that had moved to intercept the offending ship.  The Syndicate ship didn’t take long to turn tail and jump to warp, leaving the two starships to track it.  Crawford turned to Harris, “That takes care of that.  Dock bay doors will open once our dock officers officially clear the clearances and reports.  Welcome to Montana Station, Ms. Harris.”

 

“He didn’t want to see me, did he.”  Rachel Harris stood in the middle of her transport company’s new offices and operations center.  A swarm of movers and workers was working to make it less of a wide open space and more of an actual office.

Peter Crawford knew Rachel Harris – she had been in Starfleet for many years before stepping back into her family business.  He also learned not to lie to her.  “I think his connection to your son worries him about how you would see him, Ms. Harris.”

Rachel felt the urge to scoff.  She still missed her son in many ways.  She mourned him when she woke up in the morning and when she lay down at night.  He had been part of her for so long.  That empty space was an aching reminder of his meaning in her life.  She carried him with her everywhere she went, and yet she’d found a way to manage out of the darkness that had fallen around her early in the grieving process.  She chose her words, “My son would think so much less of me if that were indeed the case.  I’ll find him myself if I have to.”

Crawford admitted, “That’s fair.”  He shifted the conversation, “I’ve been assigned to work with you and your team – we’re not fully staffed yet.”

“Frontier Day did a lot of short-term and long-term damage – we’ll be dealing with it for a long time.  I hear they’re considering sending some upper-class cadets out on assignments like Montana.”

“Your daughter among them, I presume?”  The name of her daughter had come up in recent staffing decisions.  “Her grades and evaluations have been constantly strong.”

Rachel chuckled, “Natalie will make her own decision, but she could be an asset out here.  She’s in the operations and command track.  Something to think about?”  She gave him a parting smile and returned to the chaos, intent on bringing order.

 

“They wanted to get away from it all.” Commander Charlie Hargraves stood in the middle of Colony Operations, reviewing with one of the Colonial Operators.  For the moment, they were a team of three – the only active colony was on Rital III.  She continued, “They started it up about thirty years ago with fifty – it’s grown to around 1000 – that’s with births and emigration.  They’ve got fully functional water, heat, sewer…using a combination of growing their food and replicators…they’ve made a pretty good life for themselves.”

He asked, “You didn’t mention anything about medical care.”

She grimaced, “That’s where we come in – they’ve been doing what they can, but they lost their doctor about five years ago, and things aren’t great.  They never thought to ask for help, and there wasn’t a lot of Federation presence out here.  Now…,”

Charlie mused, “They have a massive starbase with all kinds of resources.”  He glanced around, realizing what he saw, “There’s an awful lot of desks in here – they’re planning to expand the colony?”

“Not just on Rital III.  Rital IV is habitable.  There’s already some talk about starting a settlement there.  There are also the other three planets, which have lots of resources to be mined and investigated.  We were working on the map of systems outside of Rital – the rimward edges of Federation space have lots of possibilities.”  Charlie wondered if he had chosen the wrong career path.  He was about to thank her for her time when she mentioned, “Oh, Commander Hargraves!  Are you related to Dr. Persefoni Hargraves?’

He blanched at the mention of his older sister, “Depending on the day.”  He chuckled nervously, “Why do you ask?”

She held up her PADD, “She’s been given a new assignment – The Rimward Journal!  She and her staff are transferring here to Montana Station by the end of this week!  Isn’t that something?”

Charlie’s smile thinned out, “It is…something.”

TPOM 007 – The Convoys Cometh

Montana Station - Starbase 406
10.18.2401

“It’s too early for problems, Yeoman Porter.”  Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana had made it four steps out of his quarters before his everpresent shadow.  He took a drag from his coffee and gestured for her to walk with him, “I suppose if it were a red alert situation, you’d have woken me up in my quarters.”

The thought amused Ensign Deborah Porter briefly, and her smile was briefer.  “We tend to try loud alarms before breaking into a starbase commander’s quarters.”  She handed him a PADD, “Word is starting to spread that we’re nearly open for business.  Several convoys have been picked up on long-range sensors.  One is from a Romulan Colony several weeks out – they are desperate to escape the more militant edges of the Syndicate that have been getting harder and harder in their visits to their colony.”

Geronimo scrolled through the report, “The other two are human and…Klingon?”  He skidded to a stop, “A Klingon Colony?  In the Alpha Quadrant Rimward?”

Her look must have chastened him as he sighed and returned to his pace as she explained, “It’s not even a minor house. You can thank Captain J’Klast for this.  He apparently had a positive experience with Captain Walton during the Underspace Crisis and decided to step away from his official responsibilities with the House of Koloth.” The blank look from her CO required her to expound further, “Captain J’Klast has picked up a taste for the food of humans and every other alien in the galaxy.  On paper, he’s being designated a special envoy to the Federation from the House of Koloth escorting a beleaguered and disenfranchised group of Klingon colonists.”

“In reality, he’s going to try his best to eat us out of house and at home?”

“You’re familiar with Klingon metabolism, I see.  He’s bringing his Bird of Prey and his crew.  And yes, I’ve found them a space for a diplomatic office.  The colonists are looking for a place to rest and decide on their future.”

Geronimo remained in thought, leading Porter to stare at him until he replied, “You don’t think it odd a Klingon coming all the way out here to establish a presence nowhere near Klingon space?”

She answered, “Klingon psychology was not my major or my minor in the Academy, sir.  Of all the spies they could have sent to us, Captain J’Klast seems the most harmless.”

“You’ve clearly never read about Garek on Deep Space Nine.  That title – mostly harmless –  can hide plenty of sins.  He may have been in service to the House of Koloth recently…but there’s a lot more history there.  Put him on Thasaz’s radar.”  He returned to the report, focusing on one element, “How did I miss that they’re a Shakespearean Company?  A Klingon Shakespearean Company?  Why didn’t you lead with that?”

Porter’s response was paired with a long look, “You would have been less likely to approve them.  Besides, we’re a little light in the entertainment pieces to our starbase puzzle.  Could help get us more on the map.”

He returned the look, mild exasperation salting his words, “Or keep us off it.  Have you ever….”

“I’ve seen plenty.  Hamlet.  Romeo and Juliet.  Macbeth – that one’s really fun with Klingon mythology mixed in.  I can send you a list with links to recordings?”

Fontana rubbed his forehead, “I have a feeling if I turned them down, you’d find something farther down the spectrum of incredible to taunt me with?”  She smiled wide.  “Fair.  Confirm their quarters and office space, and…give a heads-up to our theatre director.  He’s going to need some time to adjust.”

She replied, her memories giving her goosebumps, “You’ve not lived until you’ve seen the St Crispin’s Day Speech from Henry V performed by a Klingon Warrior.”

They had arrived at the Central Command Center doors, “I’ll put it on my list.  What’s first on our list?”
 

TPOM 008 – Trilled

Montana Station - Starbase 406
10.18.2401

“There’s a joke somewhere about two Trills walking into a bar.”  Commander Miados stood, gesturing the chair across from her, “The pub’s the only shop that’s halfway operational.”

Lieutenant Tir slid into the chair. “I didn’t expect to see you again, Commander.”  He ordered a sparkling green tea. “I was surprised to see your name on the list.”

She swirled her steaming chai, “I was pissed they took Mackenzie from me.  My second home.”  Miados sat back, a curious look in her eyes, “You’re not much better, Tir.  You lasted a month on the Douglas.  You gotta think Command is looking at all this shuffling and ducking between the squadron crew…and wondering just what kind of dysfunctional group they have on their hands.”

“Always with the bite, Miados.”  His eyes remained Calog’s, but his reply was heavily weighed with Tir.  “Will we need a referee?”

A chuckle was her first response.  Miados and Tir had run into each other in their previous hosts, and there had been conflict from the start.  Shealynn had helped Miados process the events but felt the warmth of annoyance bubbling just beneath the surface of her nerves.  Old habits died hard, she lamented.  She dove straight in, “We’re going to have to work together – Miados, Shaelynn, Tir, Calog – all for one and one for all.  What went on between us in the past.  It’s going to be a short career for either of us if the Engineering and Operations Directors can’t get along.”

“She’s got feelings.  And her feelings are my feelings.”  He gritted his teeth, “But I’ll work on making sure they don’t spill over into our working relationship.”  He took a drink from his cup.

She cracked, “Well, we could just sleep with each other and get it over with.”  She laughed as he choked and spat out his green tea.

He accepted the napkins from the amused bartender and gave her a severe look, “That was out of line.”

Miados rolled her eyes, “We both know they had the hots for each other at certain points – just never the right time…not to mention the constant back and forth when they were not getting along…which was a lot.  Shaelynn,” she pointed to herself, “has never had a problem saying what is on her mind.  I’m not going to lie or dance around the reality.  I don’t dance, for one.”

He tossed the napkin onto the table, his uniform ruined.  “Tir’s more your speed, if we’re honest.  She’s the brash, bully pulpit and brawler.  We’ve gotten better at being…together, but sometimes, I can lose myself in her…anger.  Which she has a lot of.”

Miados chuckled, “My solution is a quick and easy fix.  Get it all out in the open…and in the bed.  Problem solves itself.”

Tir rolled his eyes, “That would not go well with our new Fleet Captain, let alone regulations.”

She shrugged, “I’m mostly kidding, Tir.  Mostly.  Sounds like you’re coming around to the idea.”  Her smile was full of mischief.

He was having none of it.  He stood, “I’m due back in the operations center, and this uniform will need replacing.  Let’s not do this again.”  He stalked off in search of a quartermaster station.

Miados watched him walk away. “Shame. He is kind of cute…in a certain light.”  She checked her watch. She was due for a department briefing. There was always something to do in Montana Station.
 

TPOM 009 – Ghosts

Montana Station - Starbase 406
10.18.2401

“All of this…in five years?” Captain Leopold Halsey sat in his office, reading through the pages and pages of reports on his PADD from the colony below.  He glanced up at Lieutenant Commander Blanchefleur Courtemanche.  She had returned from retirement to head up the station counseling department and volunteered to help the Director of Medical Operations.

“We’ve been doing further…investigation into their supposed ‘doctor.’  His resume was filled with plenty of half-truths and lies.  They accepted him at the time because they were desperate to have a medical presence in the colony.  For whatever reason – Colony Operations let them down by not validating his experience.  We’ve sent a report back, but most of the staff that handled this one are gone.  There is one name you might be interested in.”  She handed her PADD over.

Leopold read the name, his face reddening in recognition, “Goddamned James Pottinger.”

She accepted the PADD back, “His daughter is Grace Pottinger…her record is public given her crimes, charges, and sentencing.”  She returned to the Rigel file, “I’ve seen my share of bad apples, captain…but she didn’t fall far from the tree.  His dossier – the available parts – is quite the read.”

He remembered the man.  He was intense and driven – that much had transferred to his daughter. Plenty more had gotten through and into her head, spoiling her mind and turning her heart. “That was a year ago,” he reflected.  “Mercy was a good ship – great crew.  I’m guessing you’re asking if we should find James Pottinger and talk to him?”

Blanchefleur hadn’t made up her mind.  “You have all the background that I don’t, captain.  From what I’ve got – sure.  What’s the worst that can happen?”  She held up her hand, seeing him sit up in his chair, ready to protest.  “However…hearing and seeing your reaction to his name makes me think it’d be bad to open that wound.  His daughter is serving her sentence, and he won’t likely like you much.”

He leaned back in his chair, “How involved was he with their application and process?”

She scrolled through the various reports, updates, and logs.  Her eyes widened a little at each click as she scanned and read.  “Why do you ask?” she wondered as her eyes worked through the reports.

Halsey shook his head, “You don’t have much of a poker face, Director Courtemanche.  I asked because I know him and Grace – neither of them can let go or delegate.  They like to put both hands on the wheel and steer.  She learned from him.  I have a bad feeling his name will come up when we start talking to them about their medical situation and everything else.  Is Hargraves still onboard?”  She checked the roster and confirmed he was.  “Then we’ll need his help – have him meet me at Colony Operations.  Do a discrete search for James Pottinger…I need to know where he is in case Charlie and I hit a wall or two.”

 

 

“This is a lot, captain.”  Charlie Hagraves stood in one of the empty colonial operations stations as Halsey sat at one of the consoles, reviewing the situation.  “Effectively, they’ve not had proper medical care for thirty years.  I’d been wondering why their population was at 700 – even with emigration, it should have been higher.”

Halsey tapped at the console, “We’ve been scanning the population from orbit with a general scan first and then a specific body-by-body sensor sweep. It’s not great. Several virulent outbreaks are currently working their way through the population, not to mention a number of curable diseases tripping our sensors.  We’ve isolated some of this due to local plant life – the Botany department is working through the sensor logs and records.  There’s also the problem of just health in general – the life expectancy in this colony is well below the average for most Federation colonies.  Their last reports two years ago had it had 65 – then they just stopped sending them altogether.”

The Dragonfly’s Chief Diplomatic officer accepted a PADD from Halsey, which he read as he asked, “Did they ever ask for help?”

“No.  When the station started construction, they initially refused to communicate.  It took repeated hails and even a personal visit from one of the lead construction officers to get someone to come out and greet them.  The colony team in this room arrived about a week ago and has slowly been able to make regular contact.  I’ve put a quarantine restriction on going down to the planet – we’re not sure what thirty years on Rikal III has done to most folks.”

Charlie shook his head as he finished reading, “How will we get them to trust us?”

Halsey stood from his chair. “That’s what we get to figure out. The station’s diplomatic officer is on the Peserverence, and you’re the highest-ranking officer with the skillset. Your CO is letting me borrow you.”

That gave Hargraves pause, “She’s not the type to play well with others.”

“Then it’s good we’ve played together before at Starfleet Academy.  I won you fair and square, Charlie.  Or is it Charles?”  His stare was enough of an answer, “She’s a tough nut or cookie…or whatever metaphor works for you…but once you get beyond that hard shell – Pantuso is the best commanding officer you could ask for.  Now, let’s talk strategy…”
 

TPOM 010 – A New Day

Montana Station - Starbase 406
10.20.2401

“We’re moving Task Forces.”  Captain Elbert Burton stood before Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana’s desk, handing over the secure PADD.  “A new unit has been formed, Task Force 21.”

Fontana took the PADD.  Their assignment in the rimward edges of Federation space had been unusual.  He wondered if there had been some intent in the chaos from the orders.  “They’ve moved a bunch of assets in – two stations and a handful of starships.  Our current orders with the Tholians remain unchanged, and the squadron continues under my command.”  He handed the PADD back to his Director of Communications Operations.  When Elbert didn’t leave, Geronimo sat back in his chair, “Something on your mind?”

“We’re getting more requests for assistance with colonial operations every day.  Some have been verified as legitimate.  Others…I’m concerned, Ger.  There is plenty of wide open space out here for miscreants and malcontents to cause and make trouble…I’m worried about what’s waiting for us out there.  Deputy Director Atega has been running intelligence gatherings with a specialized team. We have indications of Syndicate activity and rumors of other bad actors who have not yet been named.”

Fontana waited until his old friend was done, “Elbert – Montana station exists to try and sort out the Tholian diplomacy question.  It also exists to do what is needed out here in the rimward.  That means we will start finding out who lurks in the shadows of the planets and what’s waiting on the other side of that moon.  We’re explorers.  This is what we do.”

Burton couldn’t disagree with his commanding officer.   He instead protested weakly, “I didn’t do well on the exploration parts in the academy.  And I’ve always stayed on stations close to home.  You know me.  I’m a homebody.  I like things to be what they are and stay that way.”

“Elbert – I think the comfortable days of your metaphorical living room being in careful order are gone.  We have a job to do on Montana Station.  You have a job to do on Montana Station.”

Burton gulped, grimacing slightly, “This is the part where you tell me to get over it and get back to work, isn’t it?”

Fontana glanced up from the work he had returned to doing, “That’ll be all, Captain Burton.  You have your orders.”

The communications officer scrambled out, chewing on his bottom lip.  What had he gotten himself into?
 

TPOM 011 – Trouble

Montana Station - Rital II
10.25.2401

“Lieutenant, we’ve got a problem.”  The young ensign leaned back from her station, catching the Deputy Director of Communications Operations as she returned with coffee to her desk in the center of the ring.

Lieutenant Presley Atega took a hesitant sip of from the steaming cup and walked up behind the shift lead on the night shift, “Define problem.”

“The private mining operation that arrived two nights ago for Rital II is reporting instabilities in their mining equipment.  The DDEO told them to shut it down so they can send in a team.”

Atega frowned, “DDEO?”

“Deputy Director Engineering Operations.”

“That is a lot to say.  DDEO it is.  They shut down, of course.”  The ensign shook her head in reply.  Atega felt the hair on her neck stand up, “How long since the DDEO advised them?”

“Two hours.  That’s part of the problem.  Colonial Operations reports unusual power and signal readings from the Rital 2 operations site – all within the last ten minutes.  There are no outbound communications; we can’t raise them on any channel.”

Presley felt her heart begin to shift into the next gear.  “That’s a problem.  We don’t have a…” she thought for a moment, “a…DDMO yet.”  She mentally went down her checklist as fast as her tired mind would, “Wake up Halsey – signal for a triage and trauma response team to meet up with him in the emergency response shuttle bay.  Who’s in CENTCOM?”  They had quickly discovered that Central Command Center was a lot to say.  They’d shortened it.

“Crawford.”

 

Captain Peter Crawford looked up as Atega finished her report, “We were monitoring it as well.  The atmosphere of Rital II isn’t conducive to detailed sensor reports.  We suspected they were using it to keep our eyes off their operations, but the permits were checked out, and they had a claim.  Halsey’s launching in two.”  He turned in the console, tapping open a channel, “Crawford to Moore.”

“Go ahead, captain.”

“Looks like your best friends on Rital II decided to try their luck.  We’ve got a developing situation.”  He explained what they knew, ending with, “We’re going to need you and a damage control team in the emergency response shuttle bay.”  Moore reported she was already on her way.  He turned to Atega, “Which of the squadron is closest?”

She tapped at her PADD, “Perseverance is on assignment, as is Douglas.  That leaves Dragonfly, sir.”  Atega was familiar with her captain.  Everyone was familiar with Captain Pantuso.

Crawford chuckled, “My favorite.  Signal her to move to Rita II in support of our operation.  Wake up your auxiliary teams to help staff out a group to handle this centrally – I’ll handle the operations side of things.  How many miners did they bring with them?”

“300, sir.”

“Then we’d better get to work.”  She dashed off at his dismissal, tapping her orders on the PADD.

 

“Standby!”  The runabout danced roughly through the outer atmosphere of Rital II.  The pilot was good, Captain Halsey reasoned to steady himself.  But even the good ones struggled.  The cabin shook once more, and he was thankful for the seatbelts that kept them secure.  Two additional medical runabouts and three staffed engineering runabouts were behind them.  Lieutenant Greer Moore had tossed him a PADD with what they had on the schematics and operations for the mining operation.  He wasn’t much of an engineer, but he could see several risk factors at first glance.  He didn’t dare do a second glance.  Greer’s face as she’d ordered her teams to move faster told him enough.  She was worried.  Not only that, she was angry.  The Deputy Director of Engineering Operations had a terrible poker face.  “Breaking through upper…reaching lower!”

He glanced out the windows, a gasp escaping his and others.  The sky was filled with black-plumed smoke, and bright orange fires dotted the site.  The main center was engulfed in a raging blaze, and explosions sputtered as the flames slowly moved through the site.  He asked, “You found us a good landing spot, lieutenant?”

The shuttle shook again. The pilot tapped furiously at his console, “Captain, the landing pads are in ruins. I don’t see a viable landing location. Engineering will have to clear some space for us. We’re going to have to transport you down, sir.”

Halsey tapped his seatbelt off, “Understood.  Triage teams – you’ll go first. Full protective suits for everyone until we have a handle on everything else.  We’ll follow, and engineering will be beside us.  Let’s go!”
 

TPOM 012 – Landing

Montana Station - Rital II
10.25.2401

They landed in hell.  The heat from the flames kicked the environmental suits into action as the cooling systems clicked on and additional shielding activated.  Captain Halsey glanced around.  Fires were all around.  He snapped open his tricorder, “We’ve got life signs North, East, and West. Alpha team – North, Beta team, East, and Gamma Team – West!  Move, Move!”  The teams scrambled while using portable fire control equipment to create a path for them.  The transporter’s whine continued unabated for several minutes as each medical, engineering, and security team got boots on the ground.  He pulled up his heavy-duty PADD and began to update as he walked toward the main building.  The runabouts finished the last of the transports and began to work on fire mitigation from the air.

Lieutenant Greer Moore walked up beside him. “Captain, we’re concerned about that main building and its structural integrity, never mind the mine.”  He followed her as she pointed from the schematics she had worked out on her PADD to the building itself. “The fires are burning through the metal at an accelerated rate—we’re going to need to start transporting people blind soon.”

He grimaced.  They were going to need help with that.  “Coordinate with the runabouts – any positive life signs – get them aboard the medical runabouts.”  She nodded and took off, tapping her badge.  His attention returned to the mine where half the miners had been reported.  The damage was extensive, but the fires burned out, giving them a chance.  He tapped at his arm unit, opening up a channel, “Delta and Epsilon – meet me at the mine entrance.”  Halsey tapped it again, “Greer, I need an engineering and security team with me.”  She confirmed, and a beacon was attached to him on the HUDs of the various teams, and they quickly moved to follow him.

 

 

On the station, an ensign at the communications coordination station said, “Lieutenant Atega, tactical, is reporting they’re picking up unknown signals headed on an intercept course for Rital II. The time to arrival is ten minutes. They’re moving pretty quickly.”

Presley tapped at her console, “Atega to Commander Thasaz, report.”

The tense voice of their Romulan Director of Security and Tactical Operations replied through the channel, “We’re not sure if they were cloaked or hiding…but they weren’t there before.  So far, it’s two ships, one small and one medium.  Running theory is Orion Syndicate.”  There was a pause, and Atega felt her brow furrow.  Thasaz had a long history with Federation and Starfleet Intelligence operations.  Rumor was that she had been recruited to the station based on her past experiences.  Her voice returned, “Lieutenant, we’re still calibrating and installing the final sensor stacks.  We’re refining our scans – but it looks like they’re coming in weapons hot.”

Atega closed the channel and opened another, “Montana Station to USS Dragonfly.  Estimated time to arrival at Rital II?”

TPOM 013 – Reports and Assignments

Montana Station
10.25.2401

“Fifteen dead. Two hundred and fifty injured.  We transported the most severe cases here – one hundred.  The Dragonfly has taken custody of the remaining one hundred and fifty.”  Captain Leopold Halsey handed the PADD across the desk to the station commander, Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana.  “Captain Pantuso has taken command of the clean-up and repair operation.  Her chief engineer reports it could take a week to get the remaining fires under complete control in the mines. Repair work will take time as well.”

Geronimo grimaced as he read the report, “This was bad, Leo.  This was really bad.  Prelim report on their permits?”

“Fifth page on the report.  It was approved here, but the officer who reviewed it and sent it up the line has gone missing.  Commander Thasaz isn’t happy about that – he took leave of his office in the finishing stages of construction – before she was aboard.”

“Clever.  I’m guessing she’s completing a full roster review and inspection?”  A nod from his Director of Medical Operations.  “Let’s hope that work comes up clean and shiny.”  He added his signature to the report, “You’ve got another PADD in your hands, Leo.  Is this about the Tholian artifact?”

Doctor Halsey handed it over, “We’ve secured both the body and the capsule in isolation rooms with security overseen and organized by Commander Thasaz.  We’re still short a director for science operations.  My wife is head of the civilian side and could help bridge the gap until they arrive.”

Fontana held up a spare PADD. “We should have that problem solved within the week.”  He answered Halsey’s frown with an explanation: “Commander T’saath.”

The man’s frown didn’t fade. “Her last posting was on the Mackenzie—she was the XO when Captain Harris was murdered. She was then posted as operations chief with…mixed results.  She’s been out of the rotation for two months.”

“You’re concerned?”

“I’m more concerned that you aren’t, Ger.”

Fontana sat back in his chair.  They had worked together in the Fourth Fleet and interacted before their assignment to this wing of Starfleet.  “She’s passed every test the Federation and Vulcan doctors could throw at her.  Not a lot of other ways to test her competency.”

“You open to suggestions?”  Halsey remained impassive in his question.  He’d be reviewing her medical and personal records after this meeting.  Fontana motioned for him to continue.  “You’re going to need Theodora to handle science until she gets here – she could mentor T’Saath for a few weeks.”

“You’re really worried about her, aren’t you?”

“I know Vulcans, Ger.  Her struggles with her emotions could become ours quickly.  I’d rather know how to help her cope while doing the Director of Science Operations job.”

“When you say it like that, it’s hard to ignore your argument, Leo.  I’ll start the paperwork.  You’ll talk with Theodora?”

“She’s my next call.”

“She as difficult as I remember?”

“Only if you make it difficult, Fleet Captain Fontana.”  He said with a broad smile, standing at attention.  He turned around and headed out the door, chuckling as he went.

 

Theodora Walker-Halsey led the Director of Diplomatic Operations, Lieutenant Grace Albright, down the corridor leading to the secure area where the body had been moved.  Albright did her best to keep up with the Human Vulcan.  Noticeably absent was the Perseverance’s Science Chief, Hazel Wallaker.  “Ms. Walker-Halsey, I was wondering…”

Theodora cut her off as they rounded a corner, “Lieutenant Wallaker’s duties are to her ship – her discovery and actions to preserve the body will be noted in the final report.  You’re the ranking diplomatic officer.  Any guidance you can offer when it comes to handling the Tholians within this situation will be appreciated.”  Albright blinked, stymied by the forceful nature of the civilian science director.  Theodora continued into the turbolift, waiting for the door to close behind them as she tapped for the floor, “You don’t agree with my decision.”

Grace felt the ground underneath her shifting. She knew little of Walker-Halsey.  Her reputation was that of a tough and challenging.  ‘A force of nature’ was what someone had told her that morning.  She was starting to agree with it all.  “I wouldn’t presume to think I knew better than you, ma’am.”

“That’s not a denial, Lieutenant.  Speak – I have no pride or ego to injure or bruise.”

“I…I admit I did not get along with Lieutnent Wallaker in our first meeting or conference to prepare for this transfer.  But…she’s a strong science officer and is well-versed in many of the topics needed….”

“You do not think that I am in possession of being well-versed in the topics needed?”

“I…did not think about that part, ma’am.”

“You would do good to think more, Lieutenant Albright.”

Having been rebuked, Grace could only manage a “Yes, ma’am.”
 

TPOM 014 – Staffing the Understaffed

Montana Station - House of Hasara
10.30.2401

Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana gaped at the PADD he’d been handed, “That bad?”

Across the desk stood his Director of Security Operations, Commander Thasaz. She winced as she admitted, “That bad.” She remained at attention, “It’s the never-ending story of Frontier Day – it impacted ships and stations across the quadrants. Security’s been harder to find replacements – people are still remembering what it was like when an entire generation suddenly decided murder was the latest order to enforce. They also remember what it was like being on the other side – trying to keep people safe and alive in the middle of it.” Thasaz grumbled, “We’ll be at half-staff within a week, thanks to some favors I called in, but we’re getting rookies, just graduated cadets, and in some cases – cadets.”

Fontana scrolled through the report, “All while business is starting to pick up. What are you not willing to put on paper in your request, commander?”

She shifted her feet. “I’ve asked Hasara for assistance and sent messages to some old friends I’ve worked with over the years. Without a fully staffed and trained security department, I must focus on the upper levels, promenades, and major corridors—places where I can do the most good.”

Geronimo chuckled at the mention of the former Gul, “Hasara’s got the experience. He played in the darker shades of grey for a long time before he ended up in that colony where Ambrose ran into him. He spoke highly of him, and Walton had nothing bad to say about him. I suppose he brings his own…team with him?”

“It’s rag-tag, but they passed clearances on his end and mine.” She watched as he scrolled through the last of the report, “It’s the best I could do, Fleet Captain Fontana.”

He glanced up, “Your best is more than most, commander. Captain or Captain Fontana is just fine. I’ll keep asking for more from anyone who will listen.”

 

“She must be desperate.” The tall Klingon wiped the dust off the bar, shining it as he went.

Hasara finished his checklist and gently rebuked his associate, “Trov. Her desperation has given you the gift of gainful employment.” He glanced around the main bar and restaurant, “It has given me a chance to own and operate a hotel, restaurant, and entertainment center – something I’ve always wanted to try.”

“Do I really have to wear this ridiculous uniform?” A young, lithe Romalan woman came out from the back wearing an officious uniform that held spaces for PADDs to take orders and cleaning devices for the floor.

Trov chuckled, “Sinai, it looks better than most of your fashion choices. Be happy it doesn’t clash like the rest.” He muttered something about Romulan fashion sense as he puttered on around the floor, cleaning and clearing.

At one of the tables sat an older Ferengi working a console. He motioned Hasara over to him as he explained, “I’ve covered our tracks—anybody looks into this, they’ll find the paperwork filed months ago. Construction was well in hand as the station was taking shape. There’s enough in the profile, staffing, and the operating budget to appear clean, but also…bring in the folks we need to see and know.”

The former Gul patted his old friend on the shoulder, “Hagaso, you’re worth every bar of latinum.” He turned to the group, “We’re not on the books. We’re back to playing in the grey, my friends. There is only one rule – we protect the house that is this station and the people in it. We will be playing catchup until they get enough red shirts to do the job.” The others gave a silent nod. There was work to be done, palms to grease, and word to get out. “Let’s get to it.”

TPOM 015 – Wrinkles

Montana Station - Senior Officer Lounge
10.30.2401

“Since when did we rate a Director of Intelligence Services?”  Commander Thasaz sat across the table from her CO, Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana.  He’d invited her to the new officer’s mess and lounge that had just been completed.  It had been themed in the Western ambiance.

Geronimo rested his palms around his tall glass of spiced cider, “I don’t know that we do.”  He took a drink and continued, “There were discussions during construction about adding a unit within the first year of operation.  Those discussions were ongoing, and I sat in on the meetings.  Last week, something changed.  I showed up for the meeting and was told in no uncertain terms the discussions were no longer required.  Someone would be assigned to us.”  He held his arms out in surrender, “I received her heavily redacted dossier this morning – she’ll be here in three days.”

Thasaz swished her hot tea, “I played at their end of the pool last year as an operative doing work against the Orion Syndicate, Patra, and Crawford.  Something like this – someone doesn’t push the wrong button and dispatch a full captain to a rimward station.  There’s a purpose here.  I don’t like it.”

Fontana pondered his cup, “All we know is we’ve been given the primary assignment of trying to reach out to the Tholians and help support colonial operations.  Throw in some system security and exploration with a science or two…there’s enough room between the lines for intelligence to operate.  What they’re here to do – is anybody’s guess.”

A look of concern tensed Thasaz’s face, “What if they here for one of us?  I’ve played in the grey long enough when I was in service to the Federation and the Romulan Empire to get the dust in my DNA.  I’m sure plenty of the crew have skeletons in their closets.  Or bodies.”  She wondered, “This is why I got out of the business.  Paranoia seemed like it was part of the game.” She took a swig, setting the mug down.  “Then again, it’s never who you think they’re after.”

Geronimo grimaced, “I don’t think we’re the game.  There have been rustlings in the sector reports about the Orion Syndicate getting bolder out there.  And not just in our backyard.”

She nodded, agreeing, “We had a few traders hand in some curious sensor readings they’d picked up in their travels.  I don’t think it’s just Syndicate.  I think we’ve got some other players testing the waters.  The New Maquis are still out there somewhere, and our old friends, The True Way, haven’t given up.  Every underground or mercenary operation needs networks and support.  We could only dismantle and destroy a few before we had to break cover when things got complicated.”  A quiet smile crossed her lips.  The moment she’d discovered it was the crew from the Mackenzie that had landed in her lap had been a pleasant surprise.

“You think they’ve stretched out here?”  Fontana wasn’t sure he agreed with her.  It was a long way from here to there.

“Networks, Geronimo.  Those groups don’t get funded or supplied on their own.  If I were them, I’d have multiple streams of both in case one or two got compromised.”  She returned to staring at her cooling tea, “But I could be wrong about all of this.”

His PADD beeped, “Well…another wrinkle to a very wrinkly case.”  Fontana turned the PADD to her, “You know that name?”

“Riandri Nalam…well, ain’t that something. She’s been assigned to work the Tholian angle.”  A new frown formed, “You think she and Captain Ki are connected?”

He tapped at the PADD, “They were only on the USS Denver together…and that was long ago.  Ki didn’t stay around…and Nalam went her own way.”  He sighed, “Captain Crawford is going to be thrilled.”

She mused, “His relationship with Walton didn’t work out.”  She shrugged at his accusing look, “You can take the girl out of Intelligence, but you can’t take the Intelligence out of the girl.”  Thasaz realized, “We’re going to need to warn her what’s coming.  Captain Ki outranks her.”

Geronimo chuckled, “She’s under my command – approval for her command chain came through with these orders.  Someone is trying to protect her.  Captain Ki can attempt what she wants, but a Fleet Captain still beats a Captain.”

The Romulan raised an eyebrow, “You ever go up against a spook?  Not just any spook, but one who’s played the game long enough to get good at it?”

“I’ve got you, and I’ve got Nalam.  Between the three of us, I think we can work our way around her.”

Thasaz went to two eyebrows, “She’s old, not infirm.  She can still move.”  She held up her hand, “No age jokes.  We’re both old enough for it to apply.”

He cackled, “Speak for yourself.”

The eyebrows flipped to a frown quickly.

TPOM 016 – Arriving Rimward

Montana Station / USS Bodkin - Arrow class runabout
11.02.2401

Riandri very slowly spun in the command chair of what could be called the bridge, but was a glorified cockpit, of the USS Bodkin. She had spent the last few days reviewing everything she could about the Tholians but had to admit she was enjoying the quiet having the runabout all to herself after departing Starbase Bravo.

Her attention was focused on the PADD before her as read through the details, yet again, of her very loose orders from Starfleet Intelligence. Part of her couldn’t understand why she had been sent so far Rimward for this assignment. Starfleet had a number of officers who had more knowledge and actual experience with the Tholians and the Syndicate. She couldn’t help but stare at the orders and wonder what surprises awaited her.


STARFLEET INTELLIGENCE DEPLOYMENT ORDERS – Captain Riandri Nalam, RN278406EA

SUMMARY

– Report to Starbase Bravo for command of USS Bodkin, Arrow-class runabout to transport to Starbase 406

– Operate as an independent SFI operative reporting to Fleet Commander Fontana to gather details on Tholian activities within the region

– Investigate possible incursions by the Orion Syndicate and other threats to the federation and destabilise their operations.


Closing the orders she shifted to the roaster at the starbase and her eyes were drawn to the XO, as they had every time she opened the file.  “Of all the assignments I get, he will think I am stalking him…” she muttered quietly as she scrolled through the details surrounding Starbase 406, Montana Station, construction and operational mission and that of the rest of the squadron commanded by Fleet Captain Fontana.

She was pulled from her thoughts as the computer chimed, Approaching Montana Station. Dropping to impulse in 5 minutes.”

“Shit, already…” she said as she practically jumped up from the chair. She didn’t have much with her but had made sure to pack everything when she had woken that morning but the fact she was so close to the station meant she had missed both breakfast and lunch. As soon as she thought about it her stomach growled in complaint.

“Right…” she muttered as she stepped up to the replicator. “Computer, Mixed Sushi plate, small.”

Without delay, she picked up the plate popped a salmon nigiri into her mouth and took a seat at the main control console.

A couple of minutes later the sleek runabout dropped out of warp outside of the Canopus class station’s zone of control. She couldn’t help but take a moment to take in the site of the large and imposing station in orbit around Rital III. After the moment passed she pulled up the comms system and hailed the station.

Starbase 406, this is Comma…,uh, Captain Nalam on the USS Bodkin requesting docking clearance.”

A moment later the station responded, “Captain Nalam, welcome to Montana Station, we have been expecting you. We are sending you docking instructions now. You are clear to land in bay 5a.”

“Confirmed Montana Station, en route,” she said with a smile as she closed the comlink, “I guess the starbase number didn’t stick.”

Ten minutes later the runabout smoothly flew into the small docking bay and spun around so that the nose of the ship was facing towards the entrance moments after the external doors slid fully open. As the doors began to close, Riandri grabbed her bag and made her way to the airlock, unsure what to expect.

Commander Thasaz stood outside the docking area, her hands grasped around a PADD.  The word on Nalam’s promotion had come in transit.  It would be some relief having her at equal rank to the impending arrival of the intelligence director.  It was also a curiosity. The intelligence officer’s place on the station wasn’t certain and her purpose was vague enough to give room for interpretation.  She knew enough of the woman’s history and her bonafide to grant her plenty of credit before she met her. The door hissed open, and the Romulan stepped forward, “Captain Nalam, Commander Thasaz, Director of Security and Tactical Operations.  Welcome to Montana Station.  Fleet Captain Fontana asked me to walk you to your quarters and assign you an office.”

Riandri nodded as her eyes met Commander Thasaz’s, “Thank you commander, I appreciate the welcome and the company. It’s my first time on one of these stations.” She looked around at the bar walls which, understandably, looked brand new and smiled, “So, Commander, I assume my last minute arrival has thrown a bit of a wrench in the works? If there is anything I can do to help smooth things over please let me know.”

Thasaz gestured for her to follow her, “You’re not a wrench, captain.”  She went quiet as they walked down a corridor, down a turbolift, and around a corner into an expansive office.  Thasaz waited until the door closed, “The wrench is someone else.”  She handed her a PADD, “Captain Ki, our new Director of Intelligence Operations. She’s due in tomorrow.”  Thasaz briefly explained what little they knew.

Rinadir frowned slightly as Commander Thasaz spoke but listened before she spoke. “We both served on the Denver back in the war but I do not recall our paths crossing then. If I am honest I don’t really know anything about her beyond her official record which I only looked at the other day.” She looked at the PADD and made a mental note to review it in more detail when she had time. “Looking at this I can understand why my presence will complicate things. I can see how I am stepping on her toes…”

“We won’t know who’s feet are who’s until she lands tomorrow.”  She gestured to the office around them, “This is yours.  You’re slotted under Fleet Captain Fontana in the command structure, so you’ll report directly to him. ” She accepted the PADD back and tapped at the screen, returning it to her, “Your quarters are on the senior staff deck.  I’d recommend getting settled in.”  She got to the door before turning to face the new officer, “You’re safe here with us, Captain Nalam.”  Thasaz vanished out the door and it slid closed behind her.

Riandri slowly spun around as she took in the office, at first glance it was exactly as she would expect for a standard Starfleet office. “Mine as well so check into my quarters and learn the layout before things start moving,” she said as she made her way to the door after making a mental note of the location of her office. With one last look back at the room she pondered the Commander’s last words, ‘Why would I need to be reassured I was safe here…’