It was apparently a universal architectural design standard that subterranean facilities had to be made, such as to impress upon everyone at all times that they were in fact deep underground. Brutalist construction materials, white lighting that illuminated much but cast plenty of shadows, walls and floors that echoed every step or conversation that took place. Even the width of the corridors was less than on small starships.

The weight of a literal mountain was on your shoulders here.

Lieutenant Commander Adelinde Gantzmann was happy to follow the lead of her escort through the buried complex, not trusting her repeated visits over the last few weeks to be a suitable guide to her destination. And Betazed Planetary Defence, while trusting of those in Starfleet uniforms, maintained a health since of paranoia after events of the last year.

“Here you are, ma’am,” the young escort said, stopping by the only double door in the corridor. He nodded to a compatriot standing guard, who nodded back, then stepped aside to let the door open to the expansive control room beyond. “Should I wait for you, Commander?”

“I could be awhile, Ensign Burl. Thank you, as always.” They exchanged polite nods and the young man turned, heading off with purpose and leaving Adelinde to step inside, the door whisking shut behind her in quick order.

Commodore Abbon Usino dominated the control room, both in size and personality. He was a man who had clearly never gone past a buffet he didn’t get along with. No doubt some form of fitness requirement for the planetary forces of Betazed would have disqualified him decades ago, if not for political patronage that conveniently waved such things away. That and apparently a storied reputation from the days of the Dominion occupation combined with a razor-sharp mind that made him as much mascot as an invaluable resource in his current position.

“You have friends,” he purred when Adelinde stepped up beside him next to the holotank in the centre of the room.

All around them were two circular banks of workstations, all facing inwards, elevated as they receded from the centre to give all the operators a clear view. The tank itself was big enough for a couple of people to have a decent fight in, or to display a respectable holographic approximation of the Betazed system and all of its traffic without losing to much detail.

It was focused on Betazed, a large translucent ball of blues and greens and white. Beads of light for all of the ships currently in orbit were mixed in with a scattering of purple beads spread equally around the planet in a mesh. Here and there one of the purple dots shone brighter than the others, a series of codes next to it while the dim ones had nothing.

“Oh?” Adelinde asked quietly. She’d had a negative opinion of Commodore Usino from the moment she’d met him, based purely on his physical state. By the ending of her first meeting with him, she’d changed her mind. Yes, he was corpulent beyond belief, but with a mind sharp enough to let him keep what was supposed to be a planetary defence force of one of the quieter core worlds from slipping even further than it had been before the conflicts of his youth.

Usino drew in a breath, long and slow, like he was in no hurry and happy to work on geological timescales. Then eventually he raised a hand, pointing at two blue dots in orbit side-by-side with each other now. “You should have a word with your junior officers when you return. I sat here watching your shuttle descend as they appeared at the edge of the system.”

USS Tizona, Starfleet, Saber-class
Captain Santisteban

“If a Saber-class is here, then the fleet can’t be far behind, I would wager,” Adelinde said, as she turned away from the holotank. Taking note of Usino’s expression, she soured. “No?”

“No,” Usino said. “Tizona was last seen on our long-range scanners before the anomaly cut us off from the Federation at large. I suspect, once the Fleet Captain deigns to send me a report, we’ll find that they got caught in it and merely opted to come here, being only a few weeks at impulse, if one of my lieutenants did their math right.”

“I am sure they did,” she said, offering a smile. Usino merely nodded, before his attention shifted away from conversation and back to whatever problem he’d been mulling over before she had arrived. “I wanted to speak to you again about the planetary defence net.”

“Unless you can produce six-thousand new recruits to man all the platforms at their required levels, I don’t think there is much more we can do.” Usino shook his head, a colossal effort, then sighed. “A whale?” he challenged immediately, turning his attention to Adelinde.

“Isn’t it rude to read someone’s mind unwillingly?” she asked.

“I can’t help it when someone is an open book. Your Fleet Captain is not a suitable sparring partner for the mental arts. Though you are far more apt than most humans I have met.”

“I shall tell her you said that. And yes, a whale. You reminded me of one just then. I apologise for the unfair comparison.”

Usino chuckled slightly. “To the whale, no doubt,” he said. “The lending of officers from Atlantis has helped at least some. Being able to bring a few more platforms out of stasis played well in the media. People are concerned and knowing there is at least the idea of an umbrella above them is some small comfort.”

“Which is why I suggested it in the first place. But I think we should go further.”

Usino stared at her, then squinted his eyes. “You aren’t lending me more personnel from your ship. No, something else.”

“Something the cabinet is going to scream bloody murder about, if they find out.” Adelinde looked around the room, at all the faces that were very, very intent on the busy-work of their consoles. Ears and minds were listening, but making damn sure to look like they weren’t. “We should consider bringing the full array of automated systems back online.”

Usino just stared at her, blinking silently.

So, she continued. “It would reduce the man-power requirement on each primary platform considerably. And the secondaries wouldn’t need manning outside of regular maintenance. You could bring nearly three quarters of the defence net online at the flick of a switch.”

“And commit political suicide while I’m at it. Not to mention the absolute anger the Ninth House would rain down on my branch of the family.” Usino shook his head, slowly, carefully. “No, I’m sorry Lieutenant Commander, but I don’t think even I could survive such a stunt.” Then he inhaled sharply, smiling. “But…”

“But?” Adelinde asked.

“But, we could put together a technical study group, to assess the impact on manpower and readiness figures in such a scenario. If it leaks out, we can assess how it plays in the court of public opinion.”

“And if it goes poorly, you can simply say you were gaming out the scenario, which is true. Which allows the politicians to grumble at your audacity, or defend you for being a well-prepared steward of Betazed.”

“We built this new bunker after the Dominion War and never properly used it because of Mars,” Usino muttered, a flick of his hand indicating the room they were in. “Just for once I’d like to go to bed, knowing everything I’ve championed for was operating the way it was intended.”

“Allow me then to present some initial findings from Starfleet.” Adelinde produced a padd she’d been carrying, handing it to Usino. “Commanders Valen and Rrr’mmm’bal’rrr conservatively estimate it would take roughly a week to fully…”