The consoles beeped to themselves, a barely audible noise that broke the tense silence in the conference room. Captain Robert Dantes, his face showing too many lines for his years, stood up and went over to the viewport. He quietly peered out to the stars, thinking so many things to himself. His memories from the Cardassian War came back, as haunting as ever, but this time with the prospect of reliving them outside of a dream. "War?" he said, letting the bitter word slowly roll off his tongue. He hoped, in vain, that the Admiral wouldn't say yes.

"Yes," came the dreaded response. Admiral Kuznetsov's tone was as brutally honest and cold as a Russian winter. "At 0800 this morning, a joint Dominion-Cardassian fleet began an attack on station Deep Space Nine. At 0930, the Federation Council declared war and a joint Federation-Klingon fleet, having crossed the border, opened fire on the Dominion shipyards at Taurus III."

Dantes slowly turned his head towards the wall. The chronometer said 1146. His throat became dry. "Any reports from the front?" He repressed a shudder at that last word.

Kuznetsov steepled his fingers and studied Dantes, as if looking for the same reactions that the Captain was trying so hard to bury. "Deep Space Nine is fighting an admirable rear-guard action, and the shipyard at Taurus III is nearly destroyed." A small smile started playing out on his lips, showing his pride and confidence that Starfleet could still play tough when it needed to.

Dantes turned to look at him, and it was hard to hide the contempt he felt for anyone that would smile at something like this. To Dantes, this wasn't playing. This was dying. If not he himself right now, then later down the road. He had learned that a soldier in a war is living on borrowed time, and so he should just assume himself dead. If he ended up alive...well, he was a lucky boy then.

Kuznetsov's smile faded at the dark look on Dantes' face. He continued with the briefing, to cover the awkward silence. "Starfleet will be giving you a ship and crew to take out to the frontier of the Alpha Quadrant. Your mission is to enlist help in the war from new, technologically developed species. Despite what many people think, this won't be a quick war, and if the Dominion gets through that wormhole, we'll need all the help we can get."

Dantes resumed looking out the window. "Do I get to pick my own crew?"

"They are already en route to the ship."

Dantes turned to look at him incredulously. "You send me off on a ship I don't know, with a crew I'm not familiar with?"

Kuznetsov returned the look, standing to remind the Captain who was the senior officer. "They are some of the best officers Starfleet can give you for the mission."

Dantes raised his eyebrows. "If they were the best, you'd be keeping them for the war."

"Well, they are..." Kuznetsov searched for the right word. "...Eccentric."

Dantes came back from the viewport and leaned on the edge of the briefing room table. He ran a hand through his graying hair and then brought it back to the bridge of his nose, massaging it gently. This seemed like a recipe for disaster, but it kept him away from front line combat. Not that he was afraid of the fighting or the dying, but afraid of watching what would happen to those around him. "Fine," he said with a resigned sigh. "Let's go through the roster. Who are they?"

Kuznetsov nodded, that small smile playing on his lips again. He turned on the view screen and began to scroll through the senior staff. "Executive Officer: Commander Damien Bradshaw. One of the youngest officers ever to reach that rank. Formerly an instructor at the Academy."

Dantes snorted. A teacher, and a young one at that. Kuznetsov looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Go on," Dantes said, mentally rolling his eyes.

"Thank you," the Admiral said coldly, and he continued. "Chief of Security and Tactical, Second Officer: Lieutenant Commander James Hoffman. Former member of Intelligence Team IV before it disbanded, just returned from special assignment with Intelligence Team VII. Citation for Bravery, Decoration of Gallantry, Medal of Commendation."

Dantes was genuinely surprised, and his face showed it. "He sounds like the model soldier. Why is he coming with me?"

The Admiral didn't answer immediately. He looked at the wall, his mouth trying to form the right words so as not to offend Dantes. "He...has a fragile mental state. Combat stress."

"Is that some sort of a joke?" Dantes asked quietly, his eyes narrowing.

Kuznetsov's hard Russian gaze gave no indication of humor, and his eyes narrowed as well. "Hardly. But the last thing I need is soldiers on the breaking point fighting a front line war." Dantes caught the double meaning, and noticed Kuznetsov was not making eye contact as he continued speaking. "He is a good officer, and he goes with you. Now, moving along. Chief Engineer: Lieutenant Rostorian Tarod'el."

This time, Dantes audibly growned. "Tarodian royalty? Jesus."

Kuznetsov continued. "He's a fantastic engineer, but he is also in line to inherit one of the five noble families of Tarod. I don't want the political mess of putting him on the front lines, or risk making him fight alongside one of the Tarod'lar. Next...Chief Medical Officer: Lieutenant V'les Revan."

Dantes nodded with sarcastic enthusiasm. "And what is wrong with this one?"

"He's Loshaan."

Silence once again reigned in the briefing room. Dantes stared at Kuznetsov, looking one more time for some sign that this was a joke. None came. "The Loshaan are isolationist. They don't even leave their planet except to send their delegation to the Council, and even then they are barely seen. There aren't any in Starfleet."

Kuznetsov shook his head. "No, there is one. Revan. He's been a Medical Officer aboard Starbase 1 and on the Enterprise."

Dantes took a deep breath. This was almost too much. A teacher, a broken intel operative, a Tarodian noble, and a member of one of the most mysterious and unknown races in the Federation. "Keep going."

Kuznetsov shrugged. "The rest are fairly normal. Ensign Thalev Hris'valar will be your helmsman, and Lieutenant Jeffrey McFadden will be your science officer. Lieutenant Kahlan Amnell will be your OPS officer."

None of the names rang a bell to Dantes, although Thalev was obviously an Andorian name, and Kahlan was a Betazoid name. "And what ship are we getting?"

Kuznetsov pressed a button, and Dantes' new ship was displayed. "The Exeter."

Dantes incredulous expression deepened. "The Exeter? The twenty-five year old Ambassador-class Exeter?" He saw it on the screen, but he didn't want to believe it. A war, a motley crew, and an outdated ship.

"Its your assignment," Kuznetsov said sternly. "Take it, and go do your job for king and country."

Dantes glared back. During his fifty-year career in Starfleet, he had already done that, twice over.