Everything about Canopus just felt too large.

The quarters might as well have been a large apartment planetside somewhere. Corridors seemed just a touch too wide. Every compartment also seemed luxuriously spacious as well.

The Odyssey-class really was a post-Dominion War child of optimism, the descendant of the Galaxy-class and its ‘bring everything, be comfortable’ approach to exploration and flag waving.

It was decidedly not Tikva’s cup of tea.

She’d visited Perseus and complained to Rachel the whole time, having gotten used to either small ships, or the somewhat tighter feel of the Sovereign-class USS Atlantis. That had been a ship built with at least consideration to size constraints. Canopus and her sisters had been allowed to expand and grow to accommodate all the designers had wanted to pack into their all-in-one solution starship.

And starship was a word doing a lot of lifting. Highly mobile starbase was a far more apt description.

The only space she felt a touch more comfortable, that didn’t seem so excessively large, was the bridge. It almost felt like being back on Atlantis, but harkened more to the original Sovereign-class bridges. It was, she had been informed, an original feature of the ship, never replaced in any refits.

“Right,” Tikva announced as she stepped out of the ready room. The ready room that also felt far too large. “My clock says it’s fourteen hundred, which means we should be good to go, yes?”

Commander Regem Karas, Canopus’ long-term XO, stood from his seat, moving to cross his arms and then opting not to. His emotions betrayed his slight concern at a new captain, but his face didn’t. “All crew accounted for, all department heads report ready to go. We’re fully stocked and ready to transit the Badlands when we get there.”

Like everyone in the universe aside from children, Tikva had to look up to her new XO. “Slight change in plans,” she said with a smile, walking past Regem to her seat. No arch behind her this time, the chair free and truly the centre of attention, able to turn so she could face any station, including the operations bay at the rear of the bridge. “We’re headed for Bajor first. Captain Varen would like to gather a smattering of task force captains in one place.”

“That’ll certainly be one way to make an impression on the rest of the task force, ma’am,” Regem commented as he resumed his own seat. “Not much of a diversion at all either, since we haven’t left yet.”

Tikva’s head rocked side to side, eyes to the ceiling as she did some math in her head for a moment. “Same speed, nothing in the way, should get to the Bajor a day earlier, yes?”

Regem blinked twice, consulted the small console beside his chair, and then nodded his head, impressed. “Twenty-four hours, eighteen minutes. According to the computer.”

“It does the rounding I’m too lazy to do.” Tikva’s smile finally drew a corresponding one from Regem. “Right, let’s get this boat moving, then. Helm, set course one-nine-nine mark zero, ahead half thrusters.”

The helmsman on duty, an Andorian woman who looked barely out of the Academy despite the pips on her collar, tapped at her console before turning around, confusion all over her face. “Ma’am, that course takes us near the shipyards. Inside the traffic control area.”

“It does?” Tikva asked in mock surprise, relenting after a heartbeat. “It’s all cleared Lieutenant. And if anyone complains, you can always say ‘the commodore told me to’.”

“Uh, aye ma’am,” the young woman replied, turning to action the orders she’d been given.

“Right past slip forty-two,” Regem said quietly, leaning over the arm of his chair.

“Pure coincidence,” Tikva defended. “Incidentally, please set all navigation lights up for a salute.”

Minutes passed in near silence as Canopus crawled across the open space between where she’d hung in orbit and the fleet yards, a hive of activity as ships from across the fleet were serviced. A trip that would have taken almost no time at all under impulse dragged on under thrusters. But the deal she’d struck had speed restrictions so that the mighty ship Canopus wouldn’t be any more of a navigational hazard than she already was.

“Passing slip forty-two now,” Regem informed, breaking the silence as a few key strokes brought up the slip on the expansive viewscreen afforded the Odyssey-class ships.

USS Atlantis lay in her slip, her outer hull a patchwork now. Brightly illuminated from all sides, the ship was swarming with work crews and small craft as repairs were starting in earnest. Repairs that were also interspersed with refits of key components to keep the ship relevant with updates over the last few years since she was built.

“Three flashes of all lights for the Atlantis, if you would, Mr Karas,” Tikva ordered.

Work around Atlantis seemed to pause for a moment as crews noticed Canopus sailing past, then the ceremonial salute being conducted. And then, without any expectation, came a responding salute from whatever hull lights aboard the Atlantis were still functional.

For some reason that simple gesture hit Tikva hard. Her former command, what she thought would be a long-term commitment, had responded still, even in its current state. The crippled ship still able to let the universe know she was still alive.

“Message from Atlantis,” Regem said. “It reads ‘See you soon. And check your left.’”

Tikva turned to Regem on her right seeking clarification, but he was looking past her, which drew her attention to her left just as quickly. And there stood Adelinde Gantzmann, holding a small key between two fingers, a small Starfleet delta tag hanging down from under it.

“Spare key,” Gantzmann said in explanation. “Commander Velan made it from cast off hull plating.”

Tikva took it, carefully, studying the keychain in her palm for a moment. It was a near-perfect replica of the token passed around on Atlantis’ bridge. Only the colour of the metal was different. Same weight, same feel.

It was such a simple thing, but it felt like so much to her.

Atlantis would still be there for her if she needed it.

“You have anything to do with this?” Tikva asked Gantzmann.

“Just bringing it aboard and delivering it to you at the right time,” Gantzmann answered.

“Thank you.” Tikva closed her hand around the key, the piece of Atlantis she was keeping with her. “Sit down,” she ordered, waving to the empty seat beside her. “Helm, head for nav point Lima, maintain speed. Then plot a course for Bajor, maximum warp. Let’s go be the big kid on the block.”