“The readings are inconsistent. The computer core is still reporting several faults. The attack patterns and gathered sensor reports on the weapons used are coming back a mix of several possibilities.” Commander T’saath, the director of the station’s science department, stood at the front of one of the main engineering workrooms that overlooked the ships docked within Montana Station. One civilian freighter loomed along in front of the expansive windows—the Sergei.

Next to her, Commander Miados, the engineering department director, spoke, “Whatever or whoever did this, they knew what they were doing. They were intentional in how they created confusion for us. I’m confident we can get the results we need. It just may take us some time.” She tapped at her PADD. “Doctor Halsey has confirmed identities and is working with Rachel Harris.”

Sitting at the work table, Captain Alexandra Pantuso took turns giving each of them a look of concern. “Commanders, we need to know what took out this freighter group and flooded us with distress calls from around the rimward…including places within Federation space. You have to have something.”

At that, Miados faced T’saath. “We need to share it.”

The Vulcan woman remained impassive until Pantuso turned her blistering gaze fully to her. “I have ruled it out as nothing of note and did not think it relevant for this discussion. It is immaterial…”

Pantuso jumped up, sending her chair flying across the room and dully into the wall behind her. “Immaterial? Commander T’saath, the nature of your reputation is beginning to make sense the longer I work with you. You may be the director of the science department, but you answer to a captain and a fleet captain. What is it?”

T’saath responded with a slight eyebrow raise. Pantuso wasn’t sure how much pressure she would have to exercise and was relieved when the Vulcan replied, “There was an audio file from a message they attempted to send out, but interference and active jamming prevented it from being transmitted. It did not…”

Pantuso had moved to sit down, but she spun on T’saath, “Play it, Commander.” She thought she caught a smile or even a smirk from Miados but dismissed it. The Vulcan accessed the file on the console and pressed play.

“We are….under…they came from nowhere….nothing I’ve…..can’t stop them…..gone. We’re not…..this is the last…tell our….love….they’re boarding…whoever…we’ll go….fighting.”

The recording stopped, and Pantuso ignored the science director, asking Miados directly, “Theories?”

“There’s not many places an attacking force can hide, even with The Blackout in play. They would have seen them at least in the area.” She turned to stare at the Sergei, “Either it’s a wormhole, or…” she visibly shuddered. “Underspaces has opened up again.”

Pantuso’s eyes stayed on Miados. “The Cardassians closed it – for good. The bastards made damn sure we weren’t going to get to play in the deep end of that pool.” She asked, “What makes you think it’s Underspace?”

The Trill engineer chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. A force capable of making all those stations, ships, and colonies send that amount of messages? You can’t create a stable enough wormhole to do that. But…if you had the apertures to use…those were proven mostly stable.”

T’saath said, “It is a possible theory. The variable that needs answering is: Who would be using it? What government or race of aliens has the number of ships to unleash the type of damage those distress calls suggest?”

Pantuso, at last, gave the Vulcan her attention, “Klingons are crafty, but they’re not far along enough to pull this off. Romulans are having their own internal issues, not to mention the Klingons pushing and shoving them. The Borg have kept to themselves.” Even as she said it, she shook her head. “They would be the ones to figure out how to make it work.” She worked through the list, “Turei don’t fit the profile. Cardassians are dumb, but they don’t have the guts or the materials to pull something like this…besides, they closed the damn things out of spite.” She felt both of the commanders staring at her. “Ideas?”

T’saath was silent for several minutes until she stopped staring mindlessly at the table. “The Vaadwaur. They are the only species you did not mention.”

Alexandra scoffed, “They’re long dead. Voyager’s files were very clear and accurate on what happened to them. There’s no way they’re responsible for this.” She grumbled, “The problem is…nobody else fits. Damn.”

Suddenly, red alert klaxons rang throughout the entire station. Her badge chirped, “Captain Pantuso to the Command Control Center.”

She turned to the two officers, “Keep working.”

She stepped into a busy Command Control Center. Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana waved her over, handing her a PADD, “Zephyr just warped into the system torn to hell. We’re just getting her initial reports.” Pantuso started scrolling and stopped at the word Vaadwaur. “Holy shit,” she whispered to herself, but caught the look from Fontana – he’d heard her. She said, “I’m going to owe Commanders Miados and T’saath an apology. And probably more.” She explained their conversation.

Fontana said, “It appears you were right.” He gestured to the report, “It’s in the hundreds of ships – Captain Bradley gave as good as he could.” Fontana stepped away to confer with the docking and repair teams.

Pantuso read through the initial and incoming reports, her heart dropping. They’d taken a beating and had escaped a massive flotilla of forces bent on smashing them. The details on the ships they had catalogued were still being sent. As each category updated, she felt her heart reach the depths of her feet, a dark chill settling over her. These were not the Vaadwaur Supremacy ships of old. These were something better. Bigger. How had they come to return?

“It just figures.” She turned and found Captain Tobias Engstrom standing next to her. He was the new director of colonial operations.

“Welcome, Captain Engstrom,” she said with as much kindness as she could muster amid the madness unfolding outside the station and beyond.

His face was tired, and he grumbled, “I am not happy about being here, Captain Pantuso. When you retire, you should get out of the reach of Starfleet, her agents, and anyone with a connection to the bastards.” He gestured to the command and control center. “I suppose something terrible is happening.”

Alexandra snapped to face him and was rewarded with an indifferent glare. She hoved the PADD into his hands, “Read up, Captain Engstrom. Things are about to light on fire. God help you if you ask for water from me.” She stalked off, leaving a befuddled and amused captain in her wake.

She entered the central command circle, and Fontana motioned her to his station. “We’re mobilizing medical and engineering for Zephyr – they’ll be here in minutes. Commander Thasaz is calling for battlestations and recommending we immediately begin evacuation of the Rital III colony and the mineral operations on the other planets.” He tapped at a PADD and handed it to a runner, “It’s you and me at the top, Alexandra. Whatever we do, we need to do quickly.”

She was surprised. “You want to know what I’d do? Not that long ago, you were dressing me down.”

Fontana’s eyes drilled into hers, “I’m not going to pretend that there are not some things we’ve got to work out, Captain Pantuso. We do. The time for that is going to have to wait. Right now, the Vaadwaur Supremacy demands our attention, and I think we should shift our focus.”

She let a sly smile drop at the use of gentle sarcasm. She still wasn’t sure she liked him, but he didn’t dance around – that she could appreciate. “I would agree on the evacuation – Captain Engstrom and I had a great first impression, so I’ll work with him.” The look on his face approached doubtful. She said, “You need someone who can corral the cats – civilized and feral. I’m at least good at that.”

He chuckled, “The task is yours. Good luck, Captain Pantuso.”

She spun on her heels and started stalking her way back to Engstrom, her smile growing.

This was going to be fun.