Standing in the doorway of the observation lounge, blocking the view from the bridge, Lakota’s newest crewmember hugged the large data PADD she was carrying against her chest, intently watching the scene before her. There was much to learn about her new assignment and her Captain in particular, so opportunities to observe actions and reactions were invaluable to her understanding of these people she now had to entrust with her life, and whose lives had been entrusted to her as executive officer. On this occasion, she watched as Lakota’s Trill master paced the lounge along the aft wall, the windows providing a perfect panoramic view of DS17 behind them. Hands on hips, eyes laser-focused on the floor as he walked, there was a definite inaudible noise coming from him, a noise that wasn’t pleasant.

“Strip of latinum for your thoughts,” she called out, announcing her arrival at last, and drawing the Captain’s gaze for just a moment before he was back to pacing.

“I need you to get the ship ready for departure,” the Trill answered her, continuing the back and forth, with greater gusto and purpose than before.

“Something I should know?” the Cardassian took a step into the lounge and dropped her arms and PADD to her side. They weren’t due to leave for another couple of days, and much of the crew still had shore leave time accrued that they wanted to spend on the station, so an early departure wouldn’t go down well.

“You best grab Vashara. She should hear this,” the Trill finally stopped in front of the middle window and glared across the table at the XO.

Confused, the Cardassian nodded and turned her back on the Captain long enough to return to the command centre. There, she spied Vashara Zail, standing at the tactical station, deep in conversation with Lieutenant Voran and one of his subordinates. Kerina Marten didn’t even bother to close the distance between the two, or cough to announce her arrival and apologise for interrupting. Instead, she simply called her name.

“Vashara,” her voice rang loud across the bridge, louder than she had perhaps meant it to. Jutting her head in the direction of the observation lounge, the Cardassian stepped aside. “Captain needs us,” she told her counterpart, who swiftly gave her apologies to the Lieutenant and his colleague and promptly joined the XO in entering the observation lounge.

“Computer,” the Captain called when the two women had entered and approached the table, “activate privacy protocol.”

Well that didn’t happen often, and it was enough to cause the two women, hardly friends by any means, to share looks of concern. What could have happened, what could the Captain have learned, that needed such measures?

Standing behind the chair that Henry Mitchell would usually occupy, the Captain placed both hands on the headrest. “Vash,” he addressed the strategic operations officer, “what do you know of the Proteus’ mission?” he asked.

Stepping forward, the Orion looked confused but answered his question swiftly. It was her job to know all squadron missions, after all. “She’s on relief efforts in the Zaran system,” Zail answered. “They had a climate disaster on the fourth planet just under a month ago, a rogue comet shifted the planet’s orbit.”

Kauhn nodded along, listening to the Orion’s every word. Once she was finished, he jumped in. “Earlier this morning they detected a signal coming from the nearby Etrada nebula that caused great concern,” he squeezed the chair’s headrest.

“Concern? What type of signal was it?” Marten inquired, stepping forward to involve herself a little more.

“It’s a Borg transmitter signal,” the Captain told.

Upon hearing the name of their dreaded, deadly foe, Vail let out a sigh of resignation, and Kerina tossed her data PADD on the table between them. “Well I wasn’t expecting that,” Marten countered, looking between Captain and Strategist. “I’m assuming we’ve been ordered to assist them in their investigation?”

“You assume wrong,” Kauhn waggled his finger at the Cardassian and shook his head. “Command has ordered Lakota and Hypatia to rendezvous at the Zaran system and support the final stages of the relief effort. We’ll be on standby should things develop and Proteus needs us,” the frustration was evident in his voice, and both officers felt it too. None of them were particularly known for standing around and doing nothing while others put themselves on the line for their safety. There was something amiss, though, when Giarvar looked at his second officer.

“Commander Zail?” the Trill asked with raised brows.

“What kind of signal was it?” Vashara wondered, leaning on the chair in front of her with one hand as she pursed her lips in anticipation and contemplation.

“They’re not sure. It’s faint but detectable from Zaran, so there is a concern other actors might detect it.”

“And we’re right to be concerned,” Vash nodded, her stance changing as she immediately shifted gears. “Command has issued several bulletins this morning updating intelligence on recent encounters with the Syndicate. Apparently dozens of top-level, supposedly secure facilities have been raided in recent weeks, with weapons and technology being taken. It is believed there are salvaged Borg components among the taken items.”

Kerina stood, mouth agape at the revelation, whilst Giarvar simply folded his arms across his chest and shook his head in laughter. “Nothing fucking surprises me anymore,” he commented. “We were briefed not to expect Syndicate involvement because Etrada is off the radar and lightyears from any Syndicate haunt. What do you think?” he narrowed his eyes and looked at the strategist with a wry smile, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

“I think that’s exactly why we should expect Syndicate involvement,” Zail retorted. “They don’t stick to the obvious beaten track. They look for shadowy corners to operate, to avoid detection.”

“And nowhere gets more shadowy than a gaseous anomaly,” Marten finally spoke out.

Agreeing with the two other members of the command trifecta, the Trill paused for a minute to consider his next move. If there was a chance of Syndicate or even Borg involvement, they were now in a game of chess, and he had to be smart with his move. “Command wants us to report to Zaran, so report to Zaran we shall. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be proactive. I want every inch of space between Zaran and Etrada monitored closely, and I want Proteus monitored closely. So much as a sniff of trouble and we go in, orders or no orders,” he instructed of his people, happy when the nods of agreement came in response.

“I’m not going to call a staff briefing. Number One, I want you to talk with the department heads and fill them in. They can disseminate the information to their people on an as-needed basis,” his orders were clear. “We don’t need five hundred people panicking about the Borg before we’ve even got to Zaran.”

“Understood Captain,” Marten gave a curt nod.

“Vash,” he turned his attention to the green-skinned woman across from him, “monitor every communication channel you can from here to Bynaus. If there is so much as a mention of anything we need to know, I want to hear it.”

“Aye Captain,” the Orion nodded. “I’ll reach out to some of my contacts, too, and see what they know.”

“Computer,” Giarvar announced, “deactivate privacy protocol.”

“Protocol offline,” the computer replied, lifting the privacy screen that had fallen and secured the room from outside interference or influence.

Rounding the table, the Captain led the exodus to the bridge, and whilst the ladies in red went about their business quietly, Giarvar headed straight for the command chair.

“Henry,” he barked to the CONN, “recall anyone on the station. We’re leaving.”