A week later, Bart was almost wishing they hadn’t found that signal. “Sabran, have you had any luck at all?” he asked as he reviewed his padd for what felt like the thousandth time.

“I am quite capable of understanding orders.” Even in the dim light, Bart thought he could see a faint hint of frustration on Sabran’s normally stoic face. “My silence implies my lack of success.”

“I can’t help it! I’m going out of my mind with boredom.” Bart snarled, almost tossing the padd across the room. “This bloody signal isn’t due for another six hours, thirty-two minutes. Every day, it’s the same; a quick microburst and that’s it for the day.”

“Ironclad coverage does not allow us to deviate our attention to other signals of interest nor can we commit any of our equipment to other tasks. While I’m not certain I understand the logic in ignoring other signals to listen for this specific one, we have our orders.”

Deciding this conversation was over, Bart sat at his workstation fuming for a bit. Looking around the operations area, he noted the chaos that had descended on it; stacks of printouts, padds, and reference material were scattered everywhere. Even though most of their work was done on computers, sometimes they found it easier to deal with a schematic or a long piece of analytic work when it was printed out so they could observe the whole thing at once. He had a number of the messages pinned to the walls with lines of varying colors going from one side to the other, looking for commonalities.

“I don’t mind the orders so much, but I’m growing tired of Admiral Hazlitt’s staff checking up on us all the time. I’m pleased they’re interested in what we’re doing, but I wish they weren’t trying to tell us how to do our jobs.” Bart could hear the tone of annoyance in the feminine voice that sounded in the hallway. A few seconds later, Priya appeared in the room. “You’re relieved from your shift, Sabran.” She took her place at her workstation and brought her console to life. As he started to stand, she continued, “Although if you want to hang around, you’re more than welcome.”

The Vulcan immediately settled back into his chair and called up a new set of equations on his workstation. “If you would not mind. There is something in this latest communication we intercepted that is proving interesting. I would enjoy an opportunity to pursue it further.” Before Priya could respond, he turned around and returned to his task, the images changing on his computer screen faster than she could follow.

“Good evening, Bart. I’m glad to see you’re in such a good mood. Are you ready for another racquetball match after our shift?” The sly grin on her face told Bart this wasn’t as innocent a question as it sounded.

“Of course I am. After the drubbing you gave me yesterday, I fully intend to get my pound of flesh.” Bart grinned back at her. “Oh, Priya, could you look at this bit of traffic with me? I think I’m starting to make sense out of a few sections. Make sense in the most generous terms, that is.”

The Bajoran lieutenant moved over quickly and began examining the sections of code Bart had highlighted on his padd. Her eyes flicked between the padd and the scribbles he had made on the papers lining the wall, slowly nodding to herself. “That’s promising, Bart. The same section of code occurs here in group 21 on this message and group 17 on the fourth message. Have you been able to identify the particular code yet?”

“No, the messages are still too short. We’re starting to get enough of them to begin making comparisons. Up until now, I’ve been mainly applying brute force methods to them, trying different Cardassian words and seeing if I could force something in. Heck, I’ve even tried Jem’Hadar and Bajoran military terms to see if anything fit. Not that I think the Bajorans are helping,” he quickly added, spotting the look on her face. “It’s just that at this point, I’m trying anything the Cardassians might use to see if I can crib something in.”

They spent the next couple of hours working on the problem, discussing different possibilities and discarding more theories than identifying ones worth pursuing further. Bart felt his mind and throat getting worn out about the same time and decided a cup of coffee was exactly what he needed. He looked up and saw Sabran and Jamie huddled over a computer whispering excitedly to each other.

“Good God, sir, what are you doing up? I thought you’d gone to bed hours ago.” Bart grabbed the steaming cup of coffee from the replicator. “I didn’t even see you come in.”

The Alpha Centaurian turned to him with a harried look. “I was lying there almost asleep and all of a sudden it hit me. I had to come down here and check it out.” Jamie’s voice was slightly slurred and from the hunch of his shoulders, Bart could tell his body was fighting with his will about sleep.

“What hit you?” Priya spun around in her chair to look at the analyst. Her dark brown eyes showed concern for Jamie’s condition, but there was no mistaking the excitement creeping into her voice.

Jamie continued his slurred explanation, as if he’d never heard Priya’s question. “Sabran is helping me run the statistics. I don’t trust my eyes right now, but I think I’ve figured out a way to determine where the messages are going to and coming from. That might give you guys the break you need to get into those messages.” From the way his eyes were glazed over, it was obvious to Bart the immediate question was would the computer finish its analysis before Jamie fell asleep on them.

“Jamie, have you been skipping your sleep sessions again?” Priya’s expression showed a hint of irritation as she ordered up some hot chocolate for the drowsy analyst. “I thought we discussed this obsession you have with working until you pass out.”

“We did discuss it. It’s just hard once I get my teeth into a problem to not work on it,” Jamie admitted, before gratefully accepting the steaming mug. After nearly scalding his lips, he compromised by taking a deep whiff of the chocolate smell before setting it aside to cool. “However, I think I’ve really got something this time.”

“And as soon as you’re certain, one way or the other?” she asked in a threatening tone.

“As soon as I’m certain, I’m going straight to my bunk. No questions asked.”

“We’re getting something,” Sabran announced to no one in particular. Bart and the others crowded around the workstation as the Vulcan brought up the results on the large projection screen.

“I was right, the first message is originating in Cardassian space.” Cruz almost crowed as he grabbed a padd off a nearby table and started paging through it. “According to that last bit of information I requested from Starfleet, there’s something…ah, an abandoned Cardassian naval yard is located at those coordinates. I guess we can inform Starfleet it’s been reoccupied. Sabran, can you pull up a map with those coordinates highlighted?”

“Certainly, Mr. Cruz.” Sabran never looked up from his screen, continuing to work on Jamie’s calculations.

“Sabran…” Jamie stretched the Vulcan’s name out, ensuring he had the chief’s attention.

“Yes, Mr. Cruz?”

“Will you please call up the map with those coordinates highlighted?” he asked the literal-minded Vulcan.

Bart stifled a chuckle as Sabran turned without saying anything and nonchalantly brought the requested scene up on the large monitor. He wondered sometimes if Sabran was as literal as he appeared or if this was his subtle way of encouraging Jamie to be more precise with his language. Pulling himself back to the here and now, Bart noted the coordinates were on the “northern” edge of Cardassian space. There were only a few inhabited systems nearby and none of them were important enough to warrant much interest. It was a great location for a base if you didn’t want to draw much attention.

“Here comes the tricky part, Sabran. How close do you believe the second set of coordinates are to being correct?” Jamie asked, a small waver in his voice. He picked up the hot chocolate again to steady himself.

“I have no way to be certain, Mr. Cruz, but from examining your proposed test, the mathematics are sound and the proposal is highly logical. I see no reason to doubt the results at this time.” Sabran’s voice was carefully neutral as always.

“All right then, let ’er rip.” Jamie said, the excitement in his eyes blazing, his posture straightening as the next wave of adrenaline hit.

Bart watched as a series of formulae flashed over the screen. He wasn’t sure what the computer was searching for, but he could tell the mathematics involved were more advanced than anything he’d taken either during his abortive time at Starfleet Academy or after that in the three different universities on three different planets where he’d done his studies leading to his doctorate.

After a few minutes, the computer announced it had arrived at an answer.

“Put it on the main screen,” Jamie said. As they watched, a star system was projected on the wall in front of them. “Magnify and identify.” Bart could hear the excitement in the mission commander’s voice as his idea had apparently paid off.

Finally, the recipient of the mysterious transmissions was identified. As soon as it became clear where the messages were going, Bart felt a cold shiver run down his back.

The Breen Confederacy.

“Well, that explains a lot of things,” Priya said, a forced nonchalance in her voice. Bart took a quick glance at her and could see she was unnerved by this sudden turn of events. “No wonder it didn’t match up with any word patterns I was applying to your recoveries, Bart. I was applying the wrong language.”

“Don’t look at me. I hope you speak Breen. I know just enough to order a beer and find the bathroom if I got stuck in one of their space ports.”

“We certainly didn’t have contact with them on Bajor, but I’m certain someone’s got a Breen dictionary we can access somewhere.”

“Is it wise to concentrate on the Breen language?” Sabran asked, his quiet voice breaking into their congratulations. “Since these messages are going to the Breen homeworld, is it not possible it’s communication aimed at someone else? It could still be Cardassian, or one of the Dominion species such as the Vorta or the Jem’Hadar.”

“Ah, Sabran, always the voice of reason,” Jamie said. “Well, let’s get this information off to Starfleet. It’ll take a little while for them to digest this lump of gristle and inform everyone who needs to be informed. They’ll probably request further directional shots to be certain we know how to read a computer screen.”

“You think they won’t believe us? Why would Starfleet put us out here if they won’t accept what we find?” Priya’s questions were accompanied by a disbelieving frown.

“Didn’t say they won’t believe us, but some old Earth scientist stated something like ‘extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof.’ If I were you, I’d certainly enjoy my next few shifts off. I expect things to get really busy around here very soon.” Jamie raised a hand to his mouth, stifling a yawn.

“And you need to get back to bed, Mr. Cruz,” Priya said, threatening the half-asleep Alpha Centaurian. Bart chuckled in spite of himself as she assigned Sabran to ensure Jamie got to his quarters before he passed out. Turning back to his padd, he started to go over all his data again.

The Breen.