“Contact,” Lieutenant JG Kurtwell announced, gruff and to the point. “It’s the Tizona.”

Gabrielle Camargo stood up from the centre seat, spinning quickly to look at the tactical officer. His expression was all the confirmation she needed. That and knowing that Gantzmann didn’t have jokers in her Tactical department. “About damn time. Anyone following them?”

“One Vaadwaur cruiser,” Kurtwell answered, checking his readings. “Extensive plasma leaks, barely making one-tenth impulse. Venting atmosphere. Correction, looks like they’ve just lost power.” A sour note immediately followed from the tactical console. “They’re launching escape pods.”

“And Tizona?” Gabrielle asked.

“Hailing us,” Samantha Michaels answered from Ops.

“On screen,” Gabrielle quickly ordered, turning to face the viewscreen. The bridge lit up as the field of stars was replaced with the bridge of the smaller ship.

Tizona was at red alert, compared to Atlantis’ yellow while safe in orbit and surrounded by the planet’s defence platforms. A few consoles were flicking; one along the back of the bridge looked completely out. Sofia Santisteban was seated, a trace of blood down one side of her face, a bruise partially covered by the trail. Her XO was nowhere to be seen.

And she was smiling like she’d just gone ten rounds with a Nausicaan and won. “Commander Camargo,” Sofia said. “Sorry to keep you all waiting, but these Vaadwaur are persistent hunters.”

Gabrielle gave Sam a nod when the younger woman looked to her, the silent order to get the captain or commander to the bridge. Then she returned her attention to the woman on the screen. “Damage report, Captain?”

“My engineer thinks we’ll be lucky to make warp three point five right now. Port shield emitters are fried and we’re going to need some of your people to help with that. And don’t suppose you have some torpedoes to spare?”

Gabrielle blinked. Obviously visibly enough to get a short laugh from Sofia. “Excuse me?”

“Torpedoes make ad hoc space mines.” Sofia held up a hand as one of her crew approached, whispering something in her ear. “Still want those scans on those large ships?”

“I’m certainly not going to say no to you getting a good look at them, or distracting their escorts so we do.”

“We’ll get it done, then race for the barn. Tell your medical department to stand by when we do. We’ve got wounded, including Doctor Wash.”

“Screw the scans then, Captain,” Gabrielle said. “Get your people back here, we’ll be ready.”

“Only take a couple of extra minutes, Commander. We’ll see you soon. Tizona out.” And with that, the channel went dead.

“Commander, can I have a moment?” Lieutenant Goresh Krek asked in that Tellarite way that sounded like they were doing you a service by asking, instead of simply demanding. Or just announcing whatever it was they wanted to talk about.

“I’m a bit busy,” Gabrielle answered immediately. Defensively and reactively, in fact. She was focused on a padd in hand, trying to ignore the two others demanding her attention sitting in the XOs seat.

Tizona wasn’t just ‘slapped about a bit’ as Captain Santisteban had advised when they arrived back at Betazed. The ship was the next best thing to a wreck, in Gabrielle’s expert opinion. Gérard Maxwell, Velan’s assistant, had said it was ‘bad, but not bad-bad’. Whatever expert engineering opinion that was.

And the XO had, after a quick appraisal, opted to let her handle the initial work of sorting out what help they could provide to their little sister. So that he could go back to bed.

“You’ve got this,” Commander Kennedy had said. “Besides, the art of command is delegating. And so, I shall.” She’d stared daggers into the back of his head at that. She was a scientist, not a damage control coordinator. Or an administrator. Or the myriad of other things good commanders seemed to be as required.

And in the last two hours she’d approved the transfer of twenty photon torpedoes, authorised medical relief from Tizona to Atlantis and even to planetary hospitals below. She’d approved Engineering’s growing list of equipment transfers in an effort to get Tizona back to a fighting shape for an inevitable second round.

And still more requests, reports and command minutia kept piling up around her.

“Wait,” she said to Krek as they turned to leave. “Sit.” She cleared the XO’s seat of the padds, piling them in the specialists chair. Which had been empty, perfect for a visiting member of her department. But the seat was always empty. It felt more natural to clear the other, to offer it to the foremost astrophysicist in her department.

“There?” Krek asked, then sat down quickly when she glared at them. Krek didn’t need telling twice. “It’s firmer than I thought.”

“Just wait till you sit here,” she said with a faint smile. The captain’s chair was just like the others, but there was something indescribable about sitting in it. And it was a privilege not just granted without reason. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been going over all the sensor logs we have of the Slow Zone.” The term had been Krek’s idea. Two simple words that described what was happening just perfectly. The Federation relied on faster than light technology, so having it snatched away made everything so impossibly slow. “Ours, Tizona, Harpy 2. And I think I found something.”

“What?”

Krek held up the padd they had with them, showing a circle with a dot in the middle. “This is the Betazed system out to the Slow Zone. Subspace scanners, comms, warp drive, all of it ends at this line. But Harpy 2, when the sensors are configured just right, can pierce out into the Slow Zone a bit.”

“You said it was some form of subspace harmonics issue, yes?”

“Yes. Initially, we thought the sensor package on Harpy 2 should see out to 45 AU from the primary. 30 AU more than the Slow Zone. But that’s not true.” Krek tapped at the screen, adding a new point far outside the circle. Then drew a line from the dot to the far sides of the circle. “We’ve been sweeping a patch of the sky because the Vaadwaur keep coming from that direction. Biasing our results. But I asked for a full sky sweep. Harpy 2 can’t see past the barrier in any direction but this one.”

Again Krek tapped at the screen, at that new dot forming the point of a triangle, which in reality would be a cone anchored around the system. “We can only see in this direction. And I’ve got bad news.”

“How bad?” Gabrielle asked, dreading Krek’s answer.

“As of five minutes ago, Harpy 2 detected roughly forty more ships. They weren’t there three hours ago. They are there now, and approaching at half impulse. One big signature in the mix as well.”

“So call it thirty odd hours and we’ll have more ships arriving in system.” Gabrielle shook her head. “Great. Just great.”

“Not all bad,” Krek continued, smiling wickedly, which for a Tellarite was a bit frightening. “I figured out the subspace harmonic Lieutenant Tabaahaa stumbled upon. I think I can make modifications to our own sensors to replicate the effect.”

“Think? Or can?” Gabrielle cracked a smile at Krek’s disapproving look at the questions. “Get me a request, I’ll authorise it. But you’ll have to find your own people to do it, and not from Engineering.”

“I have three volunteers already,” Krek said, tapping at their padd and bringing up the official request, all filled out and just needing a signature. “And a request for Lieutenant Simmons to be assigned to the team.” Krek looked like they wanted to spit on the deck. “I have to admit, Simmons knows sensor systems.”

“Oh please, Goresh,” Gabrielle chuckled, applying her thumb to the padd. “You just want to rub this in his face.” With a confirmatory little bleep from the PADD, she shook her head. “Go on then. Open our eyes.”