In the pitch black of the bedroom, the only noise that could be heard was a combination of giggling, the occasional yelp and the rustling of sheets with slight whimpers and moans punctuating the passage of time. 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t to last as a pulsing orange light suddenly banished the dark, joined by a grating mechanical wail of a siren designed to pierce any sleep, bubbles of inattentiveness or focused mindsets. It wasn’t any of the normal klaxons the crew would be aware of, but a unique and seldom heard one.

“Warning! Warp core reactor overpressure event detected!” the ship’s computer announced to all compartments in a momentary pause of the klaxon before it continued that wail.

Ra-tesh’mi Velan, Chief Engineer aboard the mighty ship Atlantis, was out of bed in record time, slipping into a pair of pants between the pulsing warning light, grabbing an undershirt by the next pulse. He didn’t say anything to the woman still in his bed as he left, his attention solely shifting from her to the disaster unfolding aboard the ship.

“Warning! Warp core reactor overpressure event detected!” the computer announced once more.

Ra’s course towards Engineering resembled a loose torpedo as he sprinted down the corridor to the nearest turbolift, pushing off a wall at a turn and practically diving between the barely open doors, then rocketed out of it when it arrived as close as it could. Junior officers were forced to jump aside, one yanked out of Ra’s path by a friend. As a testament to speed the alarm had only been blaring for a minute by the time Ra rounded the corner into Engineering, bare feet padding along the floor.

Gone was the gentle thrum of the warp core at work, or the much faster pulsing when Atlantis was pushing the limits of her engines. In its place was a whine, the pulses coming fast enough to merge into a single sound. The coolant channels were also flashing, their pumps working overtime to combat the problem the computer was announcing to the whole ship.

“Injectors aren’t responding to commands!” one engineer announced.

“We’re at hundred and two per cent of design spec,” another supplied.

“Commander, good, you’re here.” Lieutenant Merktin, the duty officer for Delta Shift, looked to be the only point of calm in a sea of semi-panicked juniors. But the relief on her Tellarite features at Ra’s arrival was obvious for anyone who had worked with her for any period. “Both injectors just opened to maintenance levels and we can’t get them to close.”

“How?” Ra asked straight away, then waved it off. “How fast are we going?”

“Point nine six,” Merktin answered. She didn’t need to include the nine at the front, that much was obvious from the sounds of the warp core already.

“Great bird,” Ra cursed. “Right we need to -”

“Bridge to Engineering, what’s going on down there?” Rrr’mmm’bal’rrr’s rumble echoed through Engineering but was cut off by the wail of the klaxon once more.

“I’ll tell you when I know,” Ra shouted back. There was no reply, which suited him just fine. Rrr knew enough to let Engineering do their thing and hopefully, just hopefully, intercept any calls from the captain.

“Plan sir?” Merktin asked.

“Open the nacelle plasma vents and discharge them as quickly as we can. It’ll slow the ship and buy us time. We don’t want to melt the warp coils at the same time.” He pushed past Merktin, heading for one of the primary consoles to get an eye on the readouts himself. “And get a team to the antimatter injector right now. Manually close the damn thing if we have to.”

“One oh three!” shouted the engineer who had decided to make it their job to announce just how far past screwed they were right now.

“Now people!” Ra shouted, pouring motivation into his people with those two words.

Three officers, seemingly psychic, grabbed various kit and departed as one with the last informing Merktin they would get to the injector. Another did a tally of those remaining and then started directing people out of Engineering – a few blue shirts, a single red, a pair of techs that weren’t needed right now. And then Merktin appeared at his side, cool and calm.

“Diagnostic hasn’t shown anything,” she uttered while running her own checks.

“Let’s stop the immediate problem before solving the next one,” he answered curtly. “Dammit, even the coolant system is starting to spike. What’s the burst rating for the warp core again?”

“Last I checked the design article popped at a hundred and nine per cent,” Merktin answered. “Let’s hope ours does as well, yes?”

There was a moment of silence between the two as they checked readouts, then looked at each other grimly just as that junior officer made one more announcement.

“One oh five!”

Operating spec had a comfortable margin to design spec. Which had its own margin to failure point. Atlantis was living in that grey zone where safe design was memory and failure was the cliff they were approaching with each passing moment.

“Computer, initiate warp core ejection, authorisation Velan-Two-Six-Tango-Delta-Echo.” The decision wasn’t discussed, just made. It was his call to make, no one else’s. That he’d said it out loud told everyone his thoughts on the matter – the warp core was going to blow and they needed to throw it overboard right away.

Merktin nodded, then provided her own authorisation before shouting loud enough for all to hear even over the sound of whining and complaining engines. “Everyone out! Right now!”

And with that, the computer then did its part as well. “Warning! Warp core ejection in five seconds. Evacuate main engineering. Evacuate main engineering.”

A forcefield snapped up around the warp core as people fled their stations at a run, Velan and Merktin the last to cross the threshold before the large blast door slammed down, cutting off the main engineering from the rest of the ship. Elsewhere on multiple decks the same would be repeated, isolating the reactor assembly’s housing just moments before a rapid-fire series of events would take place.

The ejection hatched was forcibly jettisoned, explosive bolts blew, ullage rockets fired and the heart of Atlantis was thrown overboard in a desperate bid to take the most useful and most dangerous component of the starship as far away as possible. Silence reigned over the crowd of engineers, only deepening as the often-forgotten hum of warp travel slowly faded, Atlantis’ warp core no longer supplying the nacelles and the ship brought to heel by the laws of physics as the nacelles slowly lost power as warp plasma dwindled.

“Well shit,” Velan uttered into that silence, everyone turning to face him. Merktin was a mask of calm, a few others were shocked and then a few faces had realisation dawning on their faces already. Atlantis had been making her way along the Thomar Expanse at a breakneck pace, Captain Theodoras’ intent to get back to the frontier well known to the crew. They were weeks away at high warp from Deep Space 47. Weeks away from help.

And through the crowd stepped one Commander Velo Kendris, Velan’s uniform boots in one hand, his tunic in her other. She’d taken the time to get dressed, to even run a comb through her hair, before gathering his left-behind articles of clothing and bringing them to him. “Perhaps Commander you might want to finish dressing before explaining to the captain why her ship is adrift?”

“Kinfellow Commander, we have a mission update from the Directorate.”

Xuzal Mafol’s audible sigh couldn’t have been ignored by anyone in the cramped confines of the KS People’s Will command deck. But no one challenged them on the obvious exasperation at the Directorate of the Kinship once more feeling the need to micromanage the crew from so far away. Mafol and their crew had been in space for a year now and the Directorate still insisted on commanding them as if they were in the same building as Director Xuhn.

“No doubt it’s another proposed trajectory change,” Mafol muttered. “But unless they can find us a magical gravity well that doesn’t exist to sling around, we are on the most direct and efficient course already.”

The Kinship Vessel People’s Will was the lead ship in the race by the great nations of Qal to reach the largest of their star system’s gas giants – Xemis. A magnificent storm-wrecked ball of hydrogen and helium, the planet was surrounded by a plentitude of moons and in recent decades spacecraft from the Kinship, the Gavlor Compact and even the Southern Conglomerate, though calling them a great nation was a stretch of the phrase. It was considered by all the be the next greatest challenge before Qalians would be venturing into the stars themselves, that whoever set the pace, whoever claimed the lead in the race to be the first to Xemis, would be the nation or ideology that would lead their world.

Mafol themselves didn’t buy that for a moment. The Gavloronians would never fall in behind the Kinship. The Conglomerate was a fractious bunch who would debate the colour of the sky before they’d see the Kinship’s wisdom. But the great leaders bought into the idea. If the Kinship pulled this off, if they reached Xemis first, people around Qal would see the rightness of their ideology and demand changes within their nations.

Or the propaganda department would at least have one more cudgel to use.

“You will want to see this,” the operations officer, Vomua Muhn, replied, before producing a datapad and handing it over.

Like everyone aboard the People’s Will, Muhn was petite in all ways. The consideration of finding smaller members of the military to staff the ship had a multitude of reasons. Smaller stature meant the ship’s habitable spaces could be made smaller, thus reducing mass. Smaller people ate less, meaning the supplies and agriculture systems wouldn’t need to produce as much. And smaller people tended to biologically be drones, meaning less need to accommodate for any biological imperatives on the journey.

Or worries about unfortunate genetic legacies afterwards.

Mafol’s second sigh finally drew the attention of the People’s Will’s true commander – Erjel Gunes, the Kinship’s political representative aboard ship, sent to ensure the political orthodoxy was maintained on such a lengthy trip as theirs was planned to be. “I am sure Kinfellow Commander that the Directorate’s edicts are well thought out and considered before being transmitted to us out here.”

“Of course,” Mafol responded as they read over the trajectory change that the Directorate back on Qal had sent them. “Muhn, please ask the Kinfellow Engineer to ascend the ship,” they said after a moment of reading the data. “I want their opinion on this right now.”

It only took a few agonisingly long minutes for Nix Cohn to clamber up the length of the People’s Will from engineering to the command deck, only a few decks higher than the same trip they did every day to reach their accommodation. “Morning Kinfellows,” they answered in their exceedingly cheerful manner around a few deep breaths. “News from home?”

“Take a look,” Mafol answered, handing the datapad over. “The Directorate want us to increase our engine burn by twenty per cent.”

“That’s,” Cohn paused, reread the data, then set it down, “a lot.”

People’s Will was essentially a building in space, with its decks assigned to specific purposes and stacked atop one another with the ship’s engines located at the bottom. A steady burn of its fusion engines provided the barest semblance of gravity, but it was more of a convenience than anything. They had launched as soon as they could, with the second generation of fusion engines. They’d all read the reports of the new engines being built that could likely have their follow-up ships making the journey to Xemis in a quarter the time of People’s Will.

“We’re already running the engines at their design maximums,” Cohn continued. “I honestly don’t know what would happen if we pushed harder.”

“We would reach Xemis in three weeks instead of the five we’re already projected for at our current rate,” Gunes answered. “We would arrive with a considerable lead over the Gavloronian ship and establish the Kinship as the preeminent space power of Qal.”

“We were already expecting to beat them to Xemis by a week, so why the need to put a bigger lead on them?” Cohn asked, their genuine nature having over the last year kept Gunes at bay. It was hard to chastise someone genuine in their design to understand the thoughts and dictates of the Kinship’s leadership.

Silence fell over the four of them as each thought about the situation. Then Cohn broke it. “Has there been a change in the Gavloronian ship?”

Soon enough the ship’s resident scientist, by dint of having more doctorates to their name than anyone else on the ship, had been summoned. Mesh Thahn was the smallest of their crew and could be easy to mistake for a child back home thanks to their youthful appearance and stature, all due to an exceedingly generous lifestyle as never having passed through the First or Second Ordeal as non-drones did.

Sometimes it did pay to be the child of a well-connected family within the Directorate.

“I was just about to come up and ask if there had been any communications,” Thahn answered when the question was restated. “I can’t be certain, but I think the Pride of Gavlor has either managed to increase their sail, or something else has changed as they do seem to have increased their acceleration relative to us.”

“You can’t tell?” Gunes asked.

“As you know Kinfellow Gunes, the Gavloronians opted for a sail design for their ship. It allowed them a higher delta-V budget compared to us, allowing them to catch up with us. But we had such a substantial head-start that there was no way they could overhaul us. That is until about six hours ago.” Thahn had settled into a seat and locked eyes on the political officer. “And no, I don’t know what because the sail is all I can see with our telescope since it is pulling their ship along after all.”

Gunes drew in a breath, preparing to say something, but was cut off by Thahn whose attention had shifted immediately to Muhn. “Kinfellow, was there anything in the latest data from the Directorate about errant deepspace x-ray bursts by any chance?”

“Uh, no,” Vomua answered. “Just the request to increase our burn.”

“Could you send a message for me then and ask for any reports from telescopes around Qal detecting a large x-ray burst in the last two days? I’ll send you the coordinates for the patch of sky I’m really interested in.”

“What’s going on Thahn?” Mafol asked, skipping the honorifics that were required, especially with Gunes present. They had all learned that when a situation was developing, Mafol expected efficiency, not political correctness, from his crew. And Thahn’s questions and directions were hinting at something that Mafol didn’t like.

“Our telescope was a concession, let us be honest,” Thahn started, a wave in Gunes’ direction. It was the attitude of someone who knew family could protect them from re-education. Thahn’s mind was just too valuable to the Kinship. And important enough to have snagged a seat on the People’s Will as a bone thrown to the scientific community. “It’s not great, but it is allowing me to do some interesting work, especially as we get closer to Xemis. But last night I detected a large X-ray burst in the sky. It didn’t conform to any known x-ray emission sources and it wasn’t a point source.”

“What?” Muhn blurted out, obviously grasping what Thahn was getting us, unlike everyone else.”

“Elaborate,” Mafol grumbled.

“I mean to say it wasn’t a point, but an elongated emission source. Now either it’s a structure out in the galaxy that’s lightyears long capable of emitting x-rays all at once along its length –“

“Or it’s something smaller, but close enough for you to tell it wasn’t a single point,” Muhn blurted out, finishing Thahn’s statement. Thahn conceded Muhn’s interruption with a wave in their direction, indicating they were on the right track.

“Any ideas as to what it could be?” Mafol asked.

“None whatsoever,” Thahn answered with a smile. “A brand-new scientific discovery. Isn’t this exciting?”

“Exciting, sure,” Mafol answered, then turned to Gunes once more. “We could ask the Gavloronians if they saw this phenomenon as well. In the spirit of scientific cooperation.”

“And we can use shifts in their radio response to better judge the change in their acceleration curve as well. Better understand just how close the race has become,” Cohn added.

“This is highly irregular,” Gunes answered after a few moments of thought. “But an innocent scientific question that could also help us judge just what pressure we might be facing in our race can’t go amiss.” Thahn nodded their head in acceptance of Gunes’ position and Cohn smiled. “But I think we should implement the Directorate’s increase in our engine burn immediately as well. Better minds than ours did come up with it after all.”

“Better minds than yours perhaps, Kinfellow,” Thahn answered as they stood and headed for the ladder to head back down the ship. “Muhn, I’ll send you the coordinates in a moment. Forward any responses from the Directorate or the Pride of Gavlor directly to my station please.”

“Of course Kinfellow Doctor,” Muhn answered.

Once the command deck was back down to just Mafol, Muhn and Gunes, the political officer found themselves to Mafol’s side. Where they’d tried to all but surgically attach themselves over the last year. “I will however record the idea of reaching out to the Gavloronian ship was your idea, should the Directorate take issue in the future.”

“Of course Kinfellow Gunes, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

“I’m glad we continue to understand each other Kinfellow Commander,” Gunes answered, then returned to their seat and whatever reading they had been doing.

“I have to say Administrator Vil, the perks of the job do seem worth it.”

“Most of the time,” Udaz Vil replied as they accepted the drink being offered to them. “But it does come with having to answer to certain cretins within the Senate.” Vil was an older member of their people and the years of sitting behind a desk, using the brain and their will disproportionally more than their body had taken a toll on their figure.

“Hey, that’s just the joys of life in the Conglomerate.” Captain Rejach Vaanj sat down on the balcony of the sixth-floor office next to Udaz, attired in their full dress uniform. The dark green of the Conglomerate Defence Force clashed with Vaanj’s sky-blue skin tone in a way that brought to mind that a fashionista somewhere hated the military with a passion, then bribed some committee somewhere to take up their design. But Vannj’s striking figure and aura of confidence pushed those considerations aside and made the uniform work. Though Vil couldn’t help but notice Vaanj’s youthful look of late.

“I would bet all the wealth of the Southern Seas that Architect Sish over in the Kinship doesn’t have to deal with the same idiocy I have to.” Vil raised the glass they’d been given, examined the dark red spirit within against the mid-afternoon sky, and then took an exploratory sip. “Which bottle of klelik is this you’ve opened?”

“The ’86 that was hiding in the back.” Vaanj’s attention was firmly set on the horizon as they sipped at their own drink. Out there, across the bay separating the Conglomerate Space Agency’s head office from the Cretn Space Centre, stood an array of launch towers. All of them were monumental structures in their own right and three of them were partnered with rockets matching their height. “Last of the fuel ships?”

“Pads 14 and 18 are. Pad 7 is your ride up to orbit.”

“Why is it on the pad then? We’re not due to launch for another two weeks.” Vaanj turned away from the launch towers on the horizon and towards Vil, an eyebrow raised questioningly. “What’s going on?”

“Both the Pride of Gavlor and People’s Will have truly started racing each other. Our estimates had Pride beating Will by a few hours after they revealed they had a bit more sail than they let on. Then Will started increasing their burn rate, taking back the lead. It’s gone back and forth overnight but seems to have settled down with Will once more set to win, but it went from the week lead we thought to a few hours at most now.”

Vaanj blinked at Vil, then sculled their drink entirely before setting the glass down on the small table between the two seats on the balcony. “So how long then before they reach Xemis?”

“Four weeks at our current estimate.” Vil rolled their head to the side. “You and your crew launch into orbit tomorrow.”

Vaanj chuckled, their shoulders bobbing with each exhalation. “You know, we could still take things slower and still beat both of them.”

“We took a major, major risk with the Cush Plan. With the Pact and the Kinship up there actually piling on speed, I’m not risking it.” Vil’s eyes narrowed as they locked on Vaanj. “You launch tomorrow, you get the Nimma ready for flight and you beat the ever-living snot out of both of those ships.”

“One moment.” Vaanj stood, collected their glass and disappeared back into Vil’s office, returning quickly with a freshly charged glass. “To Nimma Cush,” Vaanj said as they held the glass out for Vil to tap their own against.

“To Nimma. May your forgotten and discredited theories finally be recognised by all of Qal.” Vil’s smile edged on predatory then, which on such a large person made it worse. “And lead us to embarrassing those insufferable pricks in the Pact and Kinship.”

“I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t want us beating the Pact too much,” Vaanj protested weakly. “But I’m sure Nimma would back us on this. No one else took their theory seriously until you Administrator.”

“Just go win the race to Xemis. We’ve spent years being mocked as the losers of the race too afraid to even launch the Nimma and too embarrassed to admit we’re going to lose that we still pretend we’re going to win.” Vil sipped at the klelik still in their glass. “But in two days you’re going to win the race and usher in a totally revolutionary era of space travel.”

“Damn straight Administrator.” Another tap of glasses in acknowledgement. “Damn straight.”

The hour was indeed late aboard Atlantis. But not late enough to be considered early, though not by much. As such the main corridors on deck 5 were dimmed just enough to signify night, but the occasional warning panel was now pulsing a dull yellow, thankfully without accompanying klaxon.

“Thanks by the way,” Ra said as he turned from the small alcove the turbolift deposited him and Vilo in the direction of the captain’s quarters. They’d called ahead and been informed to go there, not the conference room or ready room, but her private quarters.

“For what?” Vilo asked, tone passive.

“For bringing my uniform to me,” he answered, turning to look at the Romulan woman at his side. As he did so he caught the slight smirk on her face, the smile in her eyes.

“Well, I take pride in the appearance of my subordinates,” Vilo answered, then winked at him. “But you’re welcome.”

“Now just to hope she doesn’t kill me for stranding her ship out this far.” He stopped in front of the right door, took in a deep breath and tapped at the call button after exhaling.

There was no response to enter straight away, but a few seconds later the door slid open, Adelinde Gantzmann standing in the doorway in a kimono of sky-blue silk and little horga’hns just splashed around it haphazardly wearing a variety of silly hats themselves. Beyond her the quarters were darker than the hallway, but not such to obscure things too much.

“Come in,” Lin said as she stepped aside. “Tea, coffee, something else?” she asked as she waved them towards a couple of couches and a low table between them before heading for the replicator. “The captain is still waking up,” she continued to cut off any query in that regard.

“Any Vulcan spice tea by any chance?” Vilo asked, though ‘by any chance’ with a replicator would mean yes.

“Lemon ginger tea for me please,” Ra answered as he took the opportunity to sit himself down where Lin had directed them.

At that point, the door between lounge and bedroom, the size of the captain’s quarters on Atlantis a true luxury, slid open and Tikva Theodoras stepped through. She looked tired as she rubbed at her right eye with the palm of her hand, waved at Vilo and Ra with her other and walked without a word towards the replicator and Lin. A warm mug, freshly replicated was placed in her hands, a kiss from Lin on her forehead and she was turned around and gently pushed towards her officers.

A step, a sip, another step, another sip. Then Tikva seemed to actually wake up and finish the short trip over, tugging at her dark red dressing gown a bit before sitting herself down directly in front of Ra. “In my entire life I have never heard the overpressure warning outside of a demonstration of what it sounded like. Not even in an engineering drill.”

“Because it shouldn’t happen,” Ra said. “There are multiple ways for the warp core to fail before overpressure of the reaction chamber becomes even an issue.” He breathed in, prepared a defence in his head and was ready to launch into it just as Lin arrived with a platter of drinks for everyone and a selection of biscuits to pair with everyone’s drink of choice. The interruption of enough to derail him.

“So, first impression of what happened?” the captain asked, the sweet aroma of her hot chocolate finally permeating the room at large.

“Merktin said something about the injectors opening to maintenance levels and then not answering commands to close. Maintenance levels are far wider than normal operations since we need to well…get in there and check things.” Ra picked up his own drink, cradling it. “Ma’am, I don’t know how this happened, honestly. But I’m going to find out.”

“It’s not your fault Ra,” Tikva said, picking up on the engineer’s own internal guilt. “But yes, you are going to find out.” She smiled at him, that same disarming smile he’d seen used almost daily with junior officers. “Mainly because who else am I going to trust to find out why my ship is broken?”

“We’re sublight as well until Starfleet can either send out a tug boat or a new warp core.”

“That could be some time,” Vilo said over the lip of her own cup. “A few weeks until they get any distress call. A few weeks more if the closest ship comes immediately, longer still if they opt to have a warp core brought up from the nearest shipyard, assuming they can find a fast freighter.”

“Commander Kendris, do you always have to find the worst part of a scenario?” Tikva asked before continuing. “But you’re not wrong. I’ve already spoken with the bridge and we’re about two weeks at full impulse from a star system that’s showing promising signs of a class M world. We’re already heading there. Figure we could do a very intense survey of the system while we wait for support and possibly scout the planet out for a decent beach, or ski range?”

“Again, Captain,” Ra started, “I’m sorry –“

“Don’t be sorry Ra,” Tikva cut him off. “Mechanical malfunction until you tell me otherwise, understood Commander?”

“Aye ma’am,” Ra answered after a couple of heartbeats. “Aye ma’am,” he repeated.

“Good. Your quick thinking is likely the only reason we’re sitting here drinking hot drinks at,” Tikva glanced to Lin.

“Oh two fifty,” the taller woman answered.

“Three in the morning,” Tikva continued. “I want you to get started on getting your people to go over every log of every system leading up to and after the accident. Then you get some more sleep and get onto things in the morning with a clear head. There’s a reason that the injectors opened up, I want to know why. Starfleet Command is going to want to know why and you damn well bet some engineer in a design bureau is going to want to know why so they can try and blame you for the error and not their own work.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I’d like to get onto this right away myself.” Ra leaned forward, setting his cup down and getting ready to stand.

“I shall ensure the Lieutenant Commander gets some more rest shortly Captain,” Vilo spoke, giving Ra a serious look when he turned on her. “And if you don’t mind ma’am, I would like to join the engineering investigation myself.”

“No security concerns, as the Commander is an exchange officer?” Tikva asked Lin at her side.

“None,” Li answered. “But Lieutenant Ch’tkk’va will likely want to be involved, at least until sabotage can be ruled out.”

“Oh, shoot, yes, Ch’tkk’va,” Ra said, shaking his head. “I’ll get them involved right away.”

“Excellent, now, go get your people pulling all the details and looking things over, then go back to bed. Commander Kendris, please make sure my chief engineer gets some sleep, yes?”

A round of niceties, an offer to join the captain for breakfast in a few hours even and Ra and Veilo were exiting the captain’s quarters, escorted by Lin. As the door slid shut behind them, Ra let out a breath. “Well, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

“Of course not,” Vilo said, taking the lead back to the turbolift. “The captain trusts you. She trusts the crew.”

“You don’t sound terribly convinced,” Ra said as he fell in beside her.

“I think it’s a bit naïve to trust the entire crew,” Vilo replied. “After all, something caused those injectors to open. And someone prevented them from closing. Shall we go and start the investigation into why?”

“Well boss, hate to say it, but that’s that. No more sail to run out as a surprise. We’re in the hands of physics now.”

Captain Gerjac Caash hummed at that pronouncement from their executive officer, Vuld Saahn, in a sign of displeasure. “It’s too close a race.”

The race between the Pride of Gavlor and the People’s Will was a race they’d been in second for since the day they launched. The Kinship had gotten moving well in advance of the Pact, but scientific brilliance had allowed them to catch up, even put them in with a real chance of winning the race to Xemis, but hadn’t managed to cinch a win.

They’d been too late in starting their own project, in construction and launching to make a win a guarantee, so the Gavlor Pact’s leaders had opted for a secondary and arguably more substantial prize –  a sustained presence in orbit of Xemis to show what they could do. Let the Kinship have their flyby, but the Pact was going to arrive and spend months orbiting Xemis before returning home.

Where the People’s Will was a simple design, with engines at one end and stacked decks above, a flying tower block essentially, the Pride of Gavlor was a vastly different beast. A central spine pierced two counter-rotating rings, with small engines at one end and the truly gargantuan solar sail assembly at the other. The rings, some of the largest structures built in space by Qalians of any nation, provided the living and working space for Pride’s crew, which outnumbered the People’s Will by roughly six to one.

And more importantly, it provided them with a full simulated gravity, unlike the Kinship’s rather weak micro-gravity they were able to produce.

They could grow food, sleep in gravity, exercise and avoid the perils of zero gravity. They could function almost as if they were home.

But it meant that the sails had to drag a truly massive and spectacular ship. Which meant a truly considerable mass to go along with it. Which close to their home star had propelled Pride of Gavlor along and a decent clip, but as they sailed further away the constant acceleration dropped off. More sail was needed for the same effect.

And eventually you ran out of sail.

“Crunch the numbers and ask the folks back home to do the same. I want to know what sort of margin we’re looking at.”

“Will do boss. But I reckon they won’t be far off Thufal’s estimate. We’re sailing in margin of error territory.” Saahn nodded their head and turned back to their station on the Pride’s command deck, consulting with one of the junior officers.

Phela Thufal was the Pride’s chief scientist and after leaving the command deck and walking half away around the A ring, was Caash’s next port of call. Thufal had only a few years prior passed through their second Ordeal, near the start of the Pact’s own project to race to Xemis. Since being introduced all those years ago Caash had found Thufal distracting and it had only gotten worse as they re-matured. But despite protests, Thufal had been assigned to the mission. Best minds and all that.

And that the Thufal family was incredibly influential in the Pact, to the point of being a major shareholder in the government with absolutely outsized voting privileges. As they say, money talks.

“Afternoon Doctor,” they said, stepping into Thufal’s personal domain aboard the ship.

Two of Thufal’s juniors, if you could call trained spacefarers with multiple degrees or doctorates juniors, looked up at Caash’s entrance, nodded to each other and made their excuses, leaving the space to just the two of them. The crew had obviously picked up on at least something and no one wanted to be around for such awkwardness.

“Captain,” Thufal said, looking up from their computer screen. “We caught the response to the Kinship’s request for telescope telemetry from Qal.”

The Pride had a telescope just as capable, if not more so, than the People’s Will’s was, but when they’d been asked for data it turned out Pride’s was pointed in the wrong part of the sky. But the request had been broadcast openly to any and all back home. Political suicide for the crew most likely, but it had sparked a flurry of scientific curiosity back home. And from Thufal who had been waiting to see what the scientific community back home had to say.

“Oh?”

“From the surface the streak of x-ray emissions covered nearly two degrees of the sky.”

Caash wasn’t an astronomer but was a practised navigator earlier in their career. The whistle of appreciation was genuine. Whatever the Kinship folks had stumbled upon was massive. Either massive and close, on a galactic scale, or gargantuan on a cosmic scale. Either way, a worthy find, if by accident. “Any idea on distance?”

“No, not currently. All the X-ray telescopes are too close to the planet to give good parallax for distance calculations. Save for the Conglomerate’s Atep-1 probe. The Conglomerate haven’t released any information just yet, but I’m hoping it’s just them wanting to confirm details before releasing anything and not being…stubborn in releasing scientifically interesting findings.”

A wave of a hand to silently ask if they could sit, Thufal acknowledging, Caash took the opportunity to proceed further into the lab and sit. “So we’re waiting on the losers to enlighten the universe?”

Thufal’s face scrunched up at that, clearly unhappy at the statement. “Please don’t call them that.”

“They entered themselves into this race. They wanted to play at the big table.” Caash raised a hand to halt Thufal. “And they haven’t even launched a ship. And unless they’ve figured out how to make an engine that gives them one gravity of acceleration the whole time, there is no chance for them to win this race. We’re three weeks away from Xemis. They are, by definition, losers.”

“And yet both our Pact and the Kinship are constantly courting the Conglomerate back home, like a pair of firsts after a second.” Thufal shook their head. “I know some of their scientists. I’ve watched their interviews for years. They still seem supremely confident they are going to win this race and honestly, either they have something in mind, or I’ll never play cards with anyone from the Conglomerate again.”

“I…shall grant the point, Doctor.” Caash sighed. “There’s nothing we need to worry about from this x-ray emitting plasma stream?”

“Not a thing. A friend back home says the closest it can be is lightdays away, the further is lightyears. There is no way something could be illuminated all at once like that if it was further away than four lightyears.”

“So focus on the race?”

“Focus on the race,” Thufal repeated. “Though really there isn’t much more we can do at this point.”

Caash stood with a few nods of their head. “Thank you, doctor.”

“Oh and Captain,” Thufal said as they were standing in the open hatch a few moments later.

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Smile.” As Caash did so, Thufal did as well. “You’re much cuter when you smile,” they added before spinning back around to their computer screen. “Send my associates back in when you see them please.”

“Anything interesting yet?” Lieutenant Commander Gabrielle Camargo asked as her latest rounds around the bridge brought her back to the science station. With the warp drive a dream for now, the captain and XO had redrawn several duty assignments to give folks experience in areas they needed. And in Gabrielle’s situation that equated to officer of the watch assignments.

“Dependsss on your definition of interesssting,” Lieutenant W’a’le’ki answered, her slight hiss on the letter s coming through as she concentrated on the feeds coming through. “I think we’re going to have to call shore leave off, however.”

“I’m not taking the credit for that,” Gabs commented as she pulled the seat from the station next to W’a sideways and sat herself down. “What have we got?”

A few keystrokes and a series of windows were brought to the fore on the console. A combination of readings from Atlantis’ sensors as well as the probes that had been launched in system highlighted the radio emissions emanating from the M-class planet that had been identified. They’d only been observing the system for a full day now, but already the readings indicated an advanced civilization.

“It’s all radio and at this distance, it’s an absolute mess to make out, but that we’re detecting it means it’s powerful.” W’a then brought up another set of readings. “And we’re picking up data transmissions as well from the planet, but aimed it looks like at space probes around other worlds. These are cleaner due to their more directional nature, but it’s all just code.”

“No signs of warp drive?” Gabs asked, hanging out hopes that maybe they could still get that shore leave if they could make first contact.

“None,” W’a answered. “Or least nothing I’ve seen so far, but we’ve only been here a day so far.” A tap and a system diagram was brought up. “I’ve identified the largest gas giant in the system though. The sixth one out from the primary, forty moons spotted so far. Plenty of survey work we could do there while we wait for someone to come and help us out.”

“And far enough away from prying eyes.” Gabs nodded her head in approval. “Kelly, W’a’s going to flick you some details for a course change,” she said over her shoulder to the young woman at the ship’s helm who frankly looked downright bored just watching her console, arms folded as the ship plodded along at a quarter the speed of light.

“Aye ma’am,” Lieutenant JG Kelly Tabaaha responded. The excitement of a minor course change clearly did not do much to impact her boredom.

“So, likely pre-warp civilization,” Gabs continued. “Guess you’ll want to soak up everything we can get our hands on and start studying the locals?”

“It’s why I became an anthropologist after all,” W’a answered with a huge grin. “I’ve already tasked one of the stealthier probes towards the planet to avoid detection. Though if this is an information age civilization I’m going to need as many eyes and ears as I can get to help comb through everything they’ll be busy blasting into space for all to hear.”

“I’m sure we can dig up a few folks to watch the local news,” Gabs said with a smile. “After all, not like we’ll be going anywhere anytime soon right?”

Hours disappeared, and the routine monotony of running a ship dragging on before a series of chirps from Science once more grabbed everyone’s attention. All eyes turned in W’a’s direction as her console demanded attention. Everyone waited for anything before W’a’le’ki turned, looked in Gabs’ direction and waved her over, pointing silently at a single screen.

“Camargo to the Captain and Commander Kendris, please report to the bridge.”

That didn’t do much for the tension on the bridge, save ratchet it up. This was the only thing happening right now and everyone had to wait. But eventually both women arrived and Gabrielle turned it over to W’a without any fanfare.

“We won’t be able to head for the M-class planet,” W’a started. “Or the system’s largest gas giant either.” And with a single key press she brought up two images on the main screen.

One was a primitive spaceship, a needle with engines at one end, its outer skin white and silver in places with a few dark green markings on it. The other image was a massive sheet of copper-silver with slight gaps between the six triangular segments, all meeting in the middle where one end of another ship poked through and hinting at much, much more hidden behind the solar sails.

“It would appear we’re just in time for the end of a space race,” W’a continued. “We’d be making orbit at about the same time as both of them would be. At those ranges, we could hide from their sensors but someone would eventually see us with a camera.”

Silence hung in the air as the captain stared at the two images on screen. “How big is that sail?” she finally asked after nearly a minute.

“About two hundred metres across,” W’a answered after a brief double-check of her scans.

“Well, guess we have to change course. Lieutenant Tabaaha, find us somewhere scenic, your choice, and lay in a new course.” And with that, Tikva turned and headed for the nearest turbolift.

With the captain gone, Kendris looked around the bridge, her gaze sending everyone back to their stations and work before she settled on Camargo and W’a’le’ki. “Was it just me, or was the captain practically buzzing?”

“She loves primitive space flight systems,” Gabrielle answered. “And this is our second space-age discovery.”

“First solar sailer,” W’a added.

“How bad is this going to get?” Kendris asked.

“Very,” both scientists answered.

“…and with the successful launch of Crew 36, SoCaSA have confirmed the flight crew for their Race to Xemis craft, the Nimma.”

The TV that took up most of the wall of Administrator Vil’s wall was currently set to the Conglomerate’s leading news agency. The image on the screen was of the rapidly ascending rocket carrying the soon-to-mentioned crewmembers aboard it, with some talking head in a small window in the bottom corner. All Vil had to do was their head to the right barely and they should see the plume of steam and water vapour that the launch had left behind, but Crew 36 was now too distant for their ageing eyes to make out against the late evening skies.

“Crew 36 will take a few days to rendezvous with the CSS where SoCaSA has spent the last two years constructing their entrant into the race, the Nimma. Captained by veteran Captain Rejach Vaanj,” the screen split, still showing the ascending Crew 36 rocket, catching the first stage separation, and bring up an image of Vaanj, in uniform and looking as heroic as possible. “Mission Pilot Major Zihaz Gin,” a large brute of a figure replaced Vaanj’s photogenic image, “who despite being a drone has nonetheless proven themselves admirably.”

Vil couldn’t help the scoff at that. The inherent disregard for drones in their society was appalling. Vil had been considered a radical in their early years for considering them as equals to everyone else, but society had over the last few decades finally started to catch up with Vil. Or saw that the Kinship’s ‘universality’ ideology meant they had a larger population base to work, research, educate and lead. And that couldn’t stand at all.

“And last is Mission Specialist Doctor Pas Jel, the oldest member of the crew.” Jel’s visage replaced Gin’s and by far looked the most youthful, but that was a byproduct of the Second Ordeal. But Jel’s intellect was just too sharp to ground at this time. The leading authority on the technical aspect of the Cush Plan, there was no way the Nimma could fly without Jel to nurse the ship along.

“Though we have to ask, why only a three-person crew and why this late in the race, with the Pact and Kinship both announcing they are only a couple of weeks away from Xemis? Why bother launching at all if we’re just going to lose the race? We turn to our science correspondent – “

“Off,” barked Vil and the screen dutifully complied with their demand, banishing the mediatype bashing of their agency that was about to occur. No doubt some senator who disliked the space agency making phone calls to keep such derogatory comments on the air after all.

Left to brood in the rapidly fading light, the sky turning a pleasant orange with red streaks, Vil hadn’t heard the first, or maybe even second time someone had knocked at their door, but had noticed when the knocking became a heavy thud and then the door pushed open by their secretary. “Administrator, message for you from building 8. Doctor Qumahl is requesting your presence immediately. Wouldn’t tell me anything more aside from ‘Qlip confirms Wills finding’,” they said, confusion reigning their face as they relayed the cryptic message.

Demands for a car, scrambling through the administrator building and orders to the driver to ‘drive like you stole it’ saw Vil barging into Tass Qumahl’s offices within barely a quarter of an hour of getting the message. Considering their advanced years, bad knees and ‘healthy’ proportions it wasn’t a bad time. The large central area of the offices seemed to be playing host to all of Qumahl’s staff right now, all of them watching a projected image on a wall, the lights dim to give the projector a chance.

It was a map of their home star system, roughly circular lines for the orbits, little dots and labels for each of the ten planets. A few more dots here and there in different colours for the various space probes of the agencies scattered around Qal – dark green for the Kinship, red for the Pact, blue for the Conglomerate, and a few orange and purple dots from some of the smaller powers were around as well. But the map was zoomed much further out than Vil was used to seeing of late. Normally it was sliced to show everything between Qal and Xemis, or maybe from their star to Xemis, to show the race. Here it was zoomed out and out so that the whole system was maybe a quarter of the whole display.

And there on the edge of the image, hovering over a fire alarm panel, a single yellow icon pulsed.

Unknown Contact 1

“This had better not be a prank,” Vil growled as they pushed through the small crowd to get to Qumahl who sitting with a portable computer next to the projector.

“I wish. We thought we’d turn on the Qlip Sensor and let it start chilling before Nimma took flight and this came up,” the young scientist responded, pointing at the yellow dot. “The whole team spent two hours going over everything to confirm the sensor was working as it should before I called your office. But Clent over there put two and two together and realised those coordinates are damn close in the sky to where the Kinship saw their mysterious X-ray emissions.”

“I thought the Qlip Sensor was only meant to see the Nimma when it’s in flight? They don’t look like they’re moving,” Vil challenged.

“Yes and no.” Qumahl brought up some figures in a small window. Sky coordinates for their unknown contact, a distance estimate messages in light days and a tentative speed value. All the figures were shifting as well, which translated to a faint cone on the map indicating a possible path. “Whatever it is, it’s heading for Xemis and it’s moving around twenty per cent the speed of light.”

“And we have no idea what it could be?”

“None Administrator, it was there when the sensor came online. We honestly thought we’d need the sensor to come to temperature over days before it could detect anything.”

Vil nodded their head and looked around the room at the dozen expectant faces. “Until I say otherwise this is top secret, understood?” Everyone nodded, some straight away, others slowly after a glare, or an elbow to the side from a colleague. “Qumahl, set up a link with Mission Control. We need to let the crew know about this.”

“Uh, certainly,” Qumahl answered. “But whatever this is, it’s way, way past the Nimma’s range. It’s barely got enough fuel capacity for the trip to Xemis and back. Barely ninety minutes of flight time. This is light days away.”

“Be fair to say this could be extra-Qalian life?” Vil asked.

“It’s a distinct possibility.”

“And they’d have had to cross vast distances to get here?”

“Naturally.”

“Then let’s not assume that sublight drives far, far in excess of anything we can do is their limiting feature. I don’t want Nimma flying out there without knowing the risks. I’m telling Vaanj.” Vil’s nod at the end was the non-verbal ‘this conversation is over’ queue and they turned to leave.

“Administrator,” Qumahl spoke after Vil had taken a few large steps away. “We have to tell the public about this eventually. Two days tops by our charter.”

“Damn charter!” Vil spay out. “We’re not telling anyone until I tell the crew and then the Premier. Then and only then, will we tell the public.” Vil shook their head. “This is going to be a shitshow. We’ll be lucky if we can keep the rest of the Cush Plan secret. I’m not risking the Kinship or the Pact trying something stupid to stop us this late.”

“At our current speed ma’am, it’ll take us about two weeks to make it just to the outer planets.”

Those words, spoken aloud nearly a week now, had heralded a shift in activities aboard the starship Atlantis. Leave, if limited to the confines of the ship itself, had been granted for numerous officers to relax and unwind and more importantly free up schedules to let junior officers get valuable shift lead time. Several junior officers had jumped at the opportunity, volunteering for duties they aspired to or, as was being encouraged, cross-vocational training as well.

But with so much free time, other activities had been suggested as well, namely the much sought-after talent contest, and were in the process of being organised right now. Others had come and gone, like karaoke night. Today however most of the ship’s company was excusably glued to a monitor or had one at least playing in their workspaces as once more the Atlantis Top Gun tournament had been organised. Of the ship’s entire company, nearly a tenth had put their name into the competition.

Two grand melees the day before had whittled the competition down to a suitable number for a direction elimination of the best thirty-two participants. Not wanting to let the crew down, Tikva of course entered, secured her place in the elimination stage and right this moment found herself seated at the controls of a Valkyrie starfighter safely in the confines of holodeck 1, filling in the role of a vast simulator facility for the competition.

Before her hung gantries, scaffolds and docking facilities reminiscent of Utopia Planitia of decades ago at its height. Ships were even in some of the slipways, adding more obstacles to this particular round. And somewhere out there on the far side was her competition for this round.

“Good folks of the Atlantis, welcome to round eighteen of the Top Gun!” came the voice of Rosa Mackeson over the fighter’s simulated comms equipment. One of the ship’s security officers, she’d practically bullied her way into the announcer role for the competition according to the chief organiser, Lieutenant Commander Rrr’mmm’bal’rrr. “Flying the blue banner this round is the one and only, you know her, you love her, the Iron Bitch of Deneb – Captain Tikva Theodoras!”

Thankfully no one in the universe could hear Tikva’s groan and simultaneous eye-roll at that introduction. She mentally noted the need to have a word with the Hazard Team officer about her choice of words in the future and the respect due to captains. Or that perhaps she needed to keep her nose out of these competitions altogether and let the crew have fun.

Oh pish! You love it!

Well yeah, but…the Iron Bitch of Deneb? Seriously?

That whole orchestral piece, the single message for all before battle was joined, the complete lack of an offer to surrender?

Or the whole being injured at Leonis and still taking the centre seat at Deneb?

Why do junior officers mythologise their captains?

Because big damn heroes are big damn heroes! Or, well, small heroes sometimes.

And again, the universe was ignorant of her eye rolls as her internal voices were bullying her. She’d only ever met a few full Betazoids in her entire life and each encounter had been…something. ‘Something’ enough to convince her that that particular side of her genetic heritage wasn’t something she really needed in her life. And something her mother had never really encouraged either.

“And in the red banner, doing damn well for her first ever Top Gun, the steady hand at the helm in Leonis, our youngest Valkyrie pilot by far, the fair and indomitable Lieutenant Kelly Tabaaha!”

No doubt cheers in Port Royal had gone up at both announcements. Holographic displays were set up on the far walls there, giving over-the-shoulder perspectives of each fighter, with another display in the middle giving a layout of the battlefield, perspectives to be chosen by whoever Rosa had roped into assisting her, which likely meant one Amber Leckie.

While Rosa continued with a bit of hype, Tikva found herself idly flicking the comms channel of the holographic fighter open on the wide channel. “Good luck Lieutenant,” she said earnestly.

“Ah, yes ma’am,” Kelly responded. “You too.”

With announcements out of the way, and pre-match words said between pilots, the round was eventually allowed to start and within minutes Tikva was starting to think either her young lieutenant was afraid to engage, or this bout was about to become a horror story.

It had taken nearly a minute to close from her starting location to the shipyards and she’d not seen anything on her sensors. But now she was in and amongst the ships and scaffolds, sensors limited for ‘the thrill of the fight’ as per every Top Gun that had been held aboard Atlantis to date, and she still hadn’t seen anything.

As she passed one of the docking slips she saw the ship’s large impulse engines come to life, pushing out of its berth – a random event to make the field dynamic. Her eyes went to watch the large Galaxy-class ship lumber away for a few moments but then flicked right back to her sensor panel as it chirped at her.

That chirp turned into a high-pitched shrill as warning sensors all started to blare. She was being told she’d been target-locked, had an incoming torpedo and a fighter had been detected on her six already.

Okay, she’s good.

Not. The. Time.

Controls were slammed on way, then another as she brought her fighter closer to the lumbering starship, zipping around a nacelle pylon, along the stardrive hull, past the ship’s neck and then cutting in front and away, losing the torpedo and the sensor lock. But by the time she had arced up and over the starship’s saucer her attacker had taken the opportunity to vanish once more amongst the shipyard’s many hideaways.

“Right. Okay. That was impressive,” she said to herself as she rechecked sensors while catching her breath and letting her heartbeat settle back down again.

Nothing.

But as she continued along, back in the direction she’d been attacked from, over and along that large saucer of the Galaxy-class she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. Either pilot’s paranoia, or that Kelly Tabaaha was in truth barely five meters from her, separated by holograms and forcefields.

And then she sensed it – satisfaction.

Alarms blared, whistled and squealed in protest before her fighter was rocked by first an explosion, then a series of smaller hits before everything went dead across her controls. She had to sit there, in the dark, and watch as Lieutenant Tabaaha’s Valkyrie-starfighter zipped past her at breakneck speed, adding a roll to her victory display as she shot past.

“Lieutenant!” Tikva barked as she finally made her way out of the holodeck to the corridor outside. She’d taken the time to breathe, compose herself, to make herself presentable after being trounced so roundly.

Kelly turned to face her, joy and excitement draining from her face and that collection of flavours Tikva associated with emotions. Now an element of worry and concern crept in. As it did with all of her friends who had come to celebrate her win.

Ensigns and Lieutenants alike were frozen in fear as their captain approached. Some looked like they wanted to bolt, but a few looked ready to stand and defend their companion. Tikva stopped just an arm’s length away from the Native American woman, silently appraised her, and then finally spoke after what to her and her friends must have felt like an eternity.

“You keep flying like that, this tournament is yours. You understand me?”

Kelly’s face blanked. Worry was replaced with confusion, then understanding. She wasn’t being disintegrated under the baleful glare of her captain. She was being complimented.

“Do you understand me, Lieutenant?” Tikva repeated.

“I, yes ma’am, I do,” Kelly finally stammered out. “I plan on winning this.”

“Don’t plan, do.” She then turned her gaze to Kelly’s group of friends. “Ensure that she does, understood?”

“Aye ma’am,” came the series of responses, none of them lined up with any other.

“Good, now go celebrate,” she said, turning a suggestion into an order with just her tone of voice. “And Lieutenant Tabaaha, unless you like malört, don’t brag about being the best pilot just yet.”

Permission to depart, and quickly so, the gaggle of junior officers turned to make their way towards Port Royal as quickly as they could, though forced to take one side of the corridor as they found Lieutenant Commander Gantzmann waiting for them.

With everyone gone, the corridor empty save for the two women present, Lin approached, offering a wry smile. “You okay Bug?”

“Who the fuck taught her to be so goddamn sneaky?”

“You did,” Lin said straight away, the wry smile expanding as Tikva glared up at her. “She’s apparently a bit of a fan of yours and has been studying your career as well as your Top Gun matches.”

“Bullshit,” Tikva growled. “God dammit but she’s good,” she continued, admitting defeat. “I need a –“

She was cut off as Lin stepped up and wrapped her arms around her, her own soon wrapped around Lin as they just enjoyed each other’s company for a few moments.

Then reality came home to roost as Tikva’s commbadge chirped. “Camargo to Theodoras. Captain, we’ve got a bit of a situation you might want to come and see.”

“Afternoon Captain,” Gabrielle Camargo said as she greeted both her captain and Adelinde Gantzmann at the turbolift. “Turns out, it only takes ten minutes for one situation to turn into two.” She then held out a hand to direct the two women towards the mission operations bay at the back of the bridge.

Ten minutes had given the captain, fresh from her defeat in the Top Gun, time to return to her quarters and change into her uniform. And ten minutes for Gabrielle to get the bridge in order and let everyone get the discussion from watching the match out of their systems. But on a ship stuck at impulse in essentially the middle of nowhere, there wasn’t much need for a full bridge crew most of the time.

“So, a good news, bad news situation?” the captain asked.

Gabrielle smiled and rolled her head side to side briefly. “More interesting news, helpful news,” she said as she fell into step beside Tikva. “Helpful news first though. Looks like our distress call hit one of the Cardassian communications relays and got passed along so it hit DS47 quicker than we expected.”

“What’s the response?”

“Rather mundane update,” answered LtJG Samantha Michaels, already present in the bay. In fact, she was the only person present as they descended the two steps down. “One moment ma’am.” She was standing by the large screen against the back wall and tapped on a few controls onscreen, bringing up the reply message.

The screen filled with the face of an Andorian man, late middle age, with a commodore’s pip on his collar. Commodore Aben Ch’Thobar, the actual commander of DS47, looked to be in station ops when the message was recorded. “Atlantis, message received. Glad to hear all are well and safe. I’ve been informed that a ship has departed Beta Antares with replacement parts and a crew to assist. By the time you receive this, they should have cleared the Badlands and assuming no further issues will have departed DS47 for your location. Unsure what class, will send the expected arrival time when I can. DS47 out.”

“So, two weeks minimum I guess before we can get out of here,” Tikva said with a smile. “But more like three or four. Right, guessing that was the helpful news, so what’s the interesting news?”

“Interesting, problematic…” Gabriella shrugged, then nodded to Sam, who brought up a system map of the star system they were approaching. The ships in the race were both highlighted, so close to the system’s largest gas giant. A few blue specks around indicated Atlantis’ probes, deployed to survey as much of the system as they could without getting too close to the natives. And then there was a third blip in orbit of the populated world.

“So, the Conglomerate do have a ship in the race,” Gantzmann commented. “Bit late though, yes?”

“Oh, that’s not the interesting development,” Camargo said. “We were just finally able to identify where it was and have a probe watching it now.” She stepped up to the monitor on the opposite side from Sam and tapped it as well. A window popped into existence with a simple graph – time along the x-axis, and electromagnetic flux along the y-axis. While the line was jagged, it was mostly even save for three large spikes all within ten minutes of each other, all of about the same intensity.

“Okay, that graph Gabs isn’t terribly helpful,” Tikva said, her brow furrowing. “Could be anything. What window of the EM spectrum are those flux spikes occurring?”

“Radio in a sub-meter range. And the flux was awfully collimated when it passed over us.” She brought up an analysis of the flux in another window once more. “Someone on that planet lit us up with ranging radar.”

“I find that highly unlikely,” Gantzmann spoke up. “They’d have to know we’re even out here to even consider ranging us and stumbling upon us optically is…improbable.”

“But not impossible,” Sam countered. “Sorry ma’am, but it’s technically possible.”

“Granted,” Gantzmann conceded. “But three pulses spaced apart like that?”

“Early astronomers might do such,” Gabs answered. “Takes a few hours for a response, you get three returns in quick succession versus waiting for one. And yes, our shields absorbed the whole thing like they’re supposed to when undertaking pre-warp observation work, so they won’t get a return.”

Tikva hummed a moment, mouth pursed to one side in thought. “But someone down there still thought it worthwhile to aim radar in our direction. And in a few hours, they’ll get no returns and be really confused. And it’s not like we can reposition rapidly because we don’t have a warp drive.”

“There is also a small matter of who sent the radar pulses out,” Sam added. “The probe we’ve managed to get into orbit of the planet, called Qal by the locals by the way, has managed to map all installations we think capable of such a radar pulse. Bit of math, there’s only two sites that could have sent the pulses and both of them are in the Conglomerate.”

“Nothing else on Qal could have reasonably done it?” Tikva asked.

“Time they would have had to send a lightspeed pulse out and planetary rotation only allow for two sites to be responsible. Everything else would have been beyond the horizon.” Sam brought up a planetary map to emphasize her point. “There’s just nothing else down there.”

“Just the Conglomerate?” Tikva asked, looking between Gabs and Sam, both women nodding in the affirmative. “Have we got eyes on their ship?”

“Yes and no,” Sam answered. “It’s in a scaffold at the Conglomerate’s space station. Pretty well wrapped up to stop the Kinship or Pact taking a look at it. We did spot a crew going up to the station a few days ago and they have also sent up two large supply ships that our probe was able to scan – deuterium by the tanker load.”

“Deuterium?” Gantzmann asked. “No chemical rocket, or a fusion rocket for that matter, is going to let them catch up with the Kinship or Pact ships without killing the crews.”

“If used as reactant mass yes, but if used for reactor fuel, it’s ideal for a fusion reactor and an attached impulse engine.” Tikva stood there, staring at the display for a moment longer, her head tilted to one side. “But a good impulse engine comes after…” She trailed off, then started to grin. “Oh, that’s clever. That’s real clever.”

“Ma’am?” asked Gabrielle.

“If you can’t brute force a win in a race, what would you do?” Tikva asked in response.

“Smarter not harder,” Gabrielle answered. “Try and come up with some clever solution to the…oh.”

“Uh, can I get clued in please?” Sam asked.

“We might want to crack out the first contact protocols and give them a read-over,” Tikva said to Samantha. “We’re about to have company I suspect.”

The message that Rejach Vaanj was watching right now wasn’t live. It had been recorded, encrypted, transmitted to the CSS, decrypted and finally given to them on a memory stick to watch in private. When Administrator Vil declared something regarding their project top secret, everyone within the Southern Conglomerate Space Agency did everything they could to comply. All that effort over the last few years had, according to what Rejach had been told, meant that the Kinship and the Pact both still had no idea just what the Conglomerate were about to do.

And while stumbling at this stage wouldn’t be the end of the world, why ruin the theatrics of the next few days?

“Let me be quick about this Rejach,” Vil said from the small screen that Rejach had been able to find away from the station crew. “You’re not getting the week of final preparations like we planned. You’re launching in 1 day from now. We’re also changing the mission profile. Details attached for Gin and Jel.”

Rejach sat there listening to Vil’s orders, then read the attached documents before eventually summoning Zihaz Gin and Pas Jel to bring them both up to speed on the developments that Mission Control had.

“We’ve barely finished fuelling,” Pas protested, “and they want us to get the Nimma out and moving in a day? We have a checklist the length of the Nimma itself to go through before we even consider powering up the reactor onboard, let alone warming the Cush Drive.”

“The Qlip sensors confirmed the Kinship’s claims of an anomaly at the edge of the system. Which means that since SoCoSA is a public entity such a discovery will have to be released to the public. They should have already released it according to the data from the Administrator, who is pulling all sorts of legal trickery to keep from doing so but is running out of options.” Rejach saw Pas’ protest form, then die before it left their mouth. “Which means, if we’re to act, before politicians get involved and ruin absolutely everything, we have to go now.”

“Oh come on, no one is going to cancel our mission, not least of all when we’re about to win.” Pas looked to Zihaz for support, who shook their head in disagreement.

“Sorry Pas, but I’m with Rejach and Administrator Vil on this. Multiple Senators would call for us to stop while they discussed, dithered, talked and eventually did nothing. Six months on the outside before they’d let Nimma out of the slip all out of an abundance of caution they’d say. Meanwhile both the Kinship and Pact would be at Xemis.”

“And not to mention everyone will demand to know how we know, demand to know information about the Qlip sensors, which would require answering questions that would reveal the nature of the Cush Drive and everything would be laid out in the open.” Rejach saw the moment that Pas finally came around, swayed by the argument of ‘act now, or don’t at all’.

“Fine, fine!” Pas conceded. “We’ll…I don’t know, use the emergency restart checklist that was written for failures around Xemis? And just hope we don’t blow up the Nimma, the CSS, ourselves and a good chunk of Qal’s satellite infrastructure?”

“That’s the spirit!” Rejach exclaimed. “Now, since getting things rolling sounds like your territory Doctor, what do you need Zihaz and me to do?”

The first hours that passed had been hectic and not helped by being in the cramped confines of the Nimma’s small command module. The Kinship and the Pact had built their ships for long missions, trying to bring as much of the comforts of home with them on their trips out to Xemis. The Conglomerate, sinking all their money into building an experiment yet to prove itself, had built a sleek racer instead. The crew hadn’t been a late addition to the design but had been paired down to as little space as needed to devote more mass, more resources, and more time to the Cush Drive and its attendant technologies.

“We’ve got a problem,” Zihaz said quietly from the seat to Rejach’s left.

“Where?” Pas asked immediately and Rejach could hear them immediately craning their head around to check all the engineering readouts they had at the rear of the module. “I don’t see anything.”

“No, nothing with the ship. With the fuel load.” Zihaz had been working on calculations while waiting for a computer self-diagnostic to complete. “Mission Control’s flight plan won’t work. There isn’t enough fuel on board for the whole grand trip.” They handed their tablet over to Rejach, the calculations present there in Zihaz’s pristine handwriting.

It took a few minutes for Rejach to work through Zihaz’s numbers, and barely half a minute for Pas when they got a chance to look them over. “We can do this unknown contact, or we can do Xemis, but we can’t do both,” Pas said, putting to words what they all knew now. “That is if we want to come home.”

“Not sure about you Doctor, but I think our victory parade will be a lot better with us in it, yes?” Rejach turned to look over their shoulder to find Pas shrugging and offering a single nod.

“So, tell Mission Control to pick a destination?” Zihaz asked.

“Might as well. And we need to start thinking of rotating for sleep while we finish the start-up. I’m not launching with either my engineer or pilot half-asleep.”

Mission Control’s response to the fuel issue had taken nearly ten minutes to come back, somewhat due to the need to keep communications encrypted, and no doubt somewhat because someone on the ground needed to yell and scream at such a minor problem. “Thank you, Captain. We’re looking over the numbers ourselves and will advise shortly.”

Shortly turned into nearly six hours later. Rejach had managed to take a few hours of rest aboard the CSS. Pas was sleeping now that the reactor was online and plasma from the fusion reactor was being used to slowly condition the Cush Drive for flight. They had less than ten hours before the latest compressed timeline said they had to launch when Administrator Vil called through.

No encryption, no burst data transmission.

A live call.

“Captain,” the large Qalian that was Administrator Vil said. “How are we looking?”

“Ready to win this race,” they answered. “Or go down in the history books for something else. Either way, it’ll be spectacular.”

“Gin’s math was right on the mark. We screwed up down here.” The communal We that was. Vil was in no way accepting blame for this, just admitting someone on the ground messed up. “Destination is yours to pick.”

“Mine?”

“Win the race, or make the race irrelevant. Up to you, but I figure either way, launching the Nimma at this point is going to win us all the prestige. And you’re the mission commander after all. Make the Conglomerate proud.”

As the channel closed, leaving Rejach and Zihaz in the Nimma’s command module with just status screens before them, silence settled before Zihaz spoke. “I say we go for the anomaly. If there’s something there, we’re famous. If there’s nothing there, we’re still famous. We’re going way, way further out than Xemis.”

Rejach took that onboard, nodded their head, and then smiled at their colleague. “Make our course for Unknown Contact 1 then Major. We depart in nine hours and see what the Cush Drive can do.”

“Any luck?” asked Vilo as she stepped into the flight deck of the runabout Gondwana, one of Atlantis’ older, but still highly capable Danube-class runabouts.

The man she spoke to was staring at a monitor as if he could will a solution into existence by merely concentrating hard enough. The circuit diagrams could have been the next best thing to eldritch runes, scrawled by madmen and women, but luckily the man trying to decipher something from them was Atlantis’ chief engineer and even the Romulan Republic had a healthy respect for the skill, ingenuity and ‘under pressure inventiveness’ Starfleet engineers could summon forth when need be.

“No, not yet,” Lieutenant Commander Ra-tesh’mi Velan uttered as he waved a hand at the vacant station next to his. “I set up an alarm if we find anything, but no luck so far.”

“I meant in understanding why the warp core decided to have its…episode.” She sat herself on the edge of the console Ra was using, looking down at him and when he looked up she offered the covered cup of coffee she had brought forth with her.

Gondwana, and all of Atlantis’ runabounts, were out scouring an impressively large field of space, stretching nearly a quarter-lightyear, in an attempt to locate anything that might have survived the ship’s warp core being ejected and subsequently detonating. It had taken awhile before Ra had admitted he needed hard evidence to nail the matter down, but from there only a few hours to organise all of the ship’s small craft, enough crews desperate to do anything besides sit around doing nothing, and get the search started.

Ra had punished himself by assigning himself to the mission. Vilo had assigned herself citing it was an opportunity to observe and understand Starfleet smallcraft extended operations. Captain Theodoras had, upon hearing that, merely smiled, winked and suggested ‘discretion’.

This was not an unfair comment on the captain’s behalf and her intent until Ra’s determination to resolve the issue of ‘why?’ had dominated all of his thoughts. Obsession which she found endearing in the Efrosian man. If only she could redirect a modicum of his attention, if just for a few hours. But it wasn’t to be, save for a few glances she caught and enjoyed.

She’d merely dominate his attention when this was all over.

“No, nothing there either,” Ra admitted as he took the cup, sniffed at the small opening and then sipped at it as if she’d brought him the nectar of the gods. Coffee, a human delicacy that Ra enjoyed, was a vile drink she was determined never to suffer again, but she wouldn’t deny him its taste if it brought such a simple joy.

“The computer was sending the correct orders from Engineering. The sub-processors at both injector ports were receiving them correctly and issuing them. But the antimatter injector simply wouldn’t close and started opening with each reissue.” Ra sighed, took a sip, then continued. “The deuterium injector has a secondary line to the antimatter injector, to make sure they’re both feeding in at the same rate and ensure a stable reaction. So when the antimatter injector decided to play up, the deuterium injector got caught in the loop.”

“Sounds like a design flaw,” Vilo said. “Wouldn’t the issue have mostly been resolved had the deuterium injector closed and just let the reactor assembly flood with antimatter?”

“I…well…yeah,” Ra spluttered out after a few moments of thinking. “But we just didn’t have the time needed to issue the override. The feedback loop certainly didn’t help that’s for sure.”

“So the issue lies somewhere within the antimatter injector and you’re hoping we might find something to indicate what component failed to cause the problem?”

He nodded gently in the affirmative. “I know it’s a long shot, but we’ve got the time to give long shots a chance and otherwise my report to the SCE and the ASDB is going to be ‘something broke’ and they do not like that.”

Vilo couldn’t help the slight chuckle at the potential annoyance of bureaucrats and desk jockeys at such a potential report from Ra. “No, I don’t think they would. Administration personnel tend to be very particular about ensuring that they have proper documentation.”

“Says the first officer,” Ra quipped. “I want to know why this happened. I’m up against a wall with no evidence to say exactly what went wrong. Design flaw? Manufacturing flaw? Some random quirk?”

“Can I make a suggestion? Since you’ve hit a dead end that is.” She waited long enough for him to blink, consider her question and then nod in acceptance. “Focus on something else for a bit. You can’t make any further progress on this issue, so what is the point in continuing to worry about it?”

“I took the search mission because it would give me the time to continue my investigation without distractions.” There was a pause, then she watched as Ra’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Oh…”

“Indeed.”

Such distractions Vilo and Ra both kept to appropriate discretions should one of the junior officers in the runabout’s rear compartment come forward, but she at least had his attention, engaging him in conversation not related to work, at least for a while. They had barely started their turn at monitoring the craft and its sensors as it plodded along its assigned vectors when she had broken him off his fruitless investigation and hours had passed wistfully by before a cheerful little chirp grabbed their attention.

“Found something?” Vilo asked as Ra rose to his feet and closed on the offending console, interrupting a perfectly enlightening conversation on Efrosian facial hair customs.

“No, comms request,” he answered. “From the Pangea.”

“Rrr’s craft, yes?”

“Rrr and all of those ensigns and JGs they shoved onboard. They’ve really taken to this junior officer development thing.” With a tap of commands, the small screen demanding their attention sprang to life with a fresh-faced and perpetually scowling Bajoran woman. “Ensign Linal, how can I help?”

“Afternoon Commander, Commander,” she said with a nod to Vilo. “Lieutenant Rrr’mmm’bal’rrr said I need to deliver a message to you and it needs to be exact.” She took a moment to consult something off-screen. “Found something you lost. Come and collect.”

“Excuse me, Ensign?” Ra asked immediately.

“That’s what the Lieutenant said I should tell you and nothing more sir.”

Attempts at prying more information out of the ensign proved fruitless, Ensign Linal’s stubbornness resistant to the ship’s executive and third officer. But that Rrr had thought it worth pulling such shenanigans meant it was something they needed to see for themselves anyway, so they let the matter drop.

In only a matter of minutes, the Gondwana was dropping out of warp within a mere couple hundred kilometres from the Pangea, impulse engines closing the distance. A speck of light rapidly grew into a vague shape, masking another behind it, but failing as the two craft closed on each other.

“No,” Ra uttered.

“That’s unexpected,” Vilo said as she laid eyes on what was just past the Pangea, cold and dead in the void of space.

“It should have exploded,” Ra continued as a comms request came in and without thinking he opened it.

“Does this make me a salvage merchant now?” Rrr asked with obvious mirth in their voice. “Finding discard bits of starship just floating in space and all.”

“Rrr, I could just about kiss you,” Ra answered, a smile on his face that threatened to explode. “The whole bloody warp core intact.”

“Looks like the power reserves held and it just bled all the remaining reactant mass out. No new fuel meant chamber pressures dropped and then it just emptied itself into space.” Rrr cracked a smile. “Looks like we’ll finally figure out what broke.”

“Does this mean we could reinstall it and get warp power back?” Vilo asked.

“No,” both Ra and Rrr chimed over each other.

“Oh no, no no no,” Ra continued. “Overstressed reactor chamber. I wouldn’t trust that thing as far as I could throw it. But damn straight we’re taking it home with us and figuring out just what the hell went wrong with it.”

“About heading back to the ship,” Rrr piped up over the comms. “Just got a hail from Atlantis while you were heading here. We’re all being asked to stay out here for now if we can. Commander Camargo thinks the locals might have a primitive subspace scanner.”

“What?” Ra blurted.

“Oh, and it gets better. Let me save you reading your messages…”

“Please, please, please tell me we have eyes on them,” Tikva said as she stepped out of her ready room, hot on the heels of Gabrielle’s summons that ‘something was up’ around the planet of Qal.

“Managed to sneak another two probes in close enough for visuals,” Gabrielle said as she handed the ceremonial keys to the captain. “Makes four separate views,” she clarified as all of them were brought up on the viewscreen, cutting it into quarters.

Two segments were focused clearly on a brighter smudge of light against the speckling of dots that made up the universe. A third was dominated by a blue-green orb, with more smudges of light in the foreground. The last had a vantage point of the Southern Conglomerate station with the sun at its back and significantly closer, casting it in surprising detail, but still hard to make any real detail out.

“Zoom it in,” Gabrielle said, looking to the science station and one of her juniors, who complied and brought all four images into crystal clarity, snapping them into focus and capturing all of the details they could with the advanced optics present on the Starfleet survey probes.

The Southern Conglomerate’s spacecraft, which they had managed to deduce was named Nimma after catching stray radio communications, was reminiscent of so many early warp-capable craft. Needle-like in rough approximation, it was a step above Earth’s own Pheonix, but only just. The white-painted hull was only decorated by a single green cheatline, broken by the extended arms that held the primitive warp nacelles away from the main body of the craft.

“They extended their nacelle pylons just a few minutes ago and our closest probe is reading an increased neutrino count that would coincide with a fusion reactor being started up.” Gabrielle’s giddiness was a pale comparison to Tikva’s own.

“See, see,” Tikva said from the middle of the bridge beside Gabrielle, waving a hand at the viewscreen. “Proper starship design right there. Two nacelles.” She waved Gabrielle’s confusion away at the statement. “Never mind, a conversation I was having with myself a while back.”

“Two versus four nacelles?” Gabrielle asked.

“I’ve always been partial to circular nacelles myself,” Samantha Michaels piped up from Ops.

“Please do not get her started,” Adelinde Gantzmann said from Tactical. “Please.”

“Any decent scans of the Nimma to give us an idea of what they might get up to?” Tikva asked.

The Engineering station, normally occupied by a junior in the department most shifts, was instead occupied by Ra’s second, Gérard Maxwell. News had spread and the bridge was starting to look like those who could pull rank for front-row seats had done so. “Just in case they do have a subspace scanner somewhere, we didn’t want to give the game up, but we did a sneak in a short active scan of their ship. Warp one point three, maybe point four. Nothing higher than that though unless they want to be walking home.”

“Breaking the warp speed barrier is one way to win their race to Xemis, that’s for sure.” Tikva stepped up behind the helm, peered over T’Val’s shoulder and nodded to herself. “Fifteen minutes at warp one to get there, declare victory, turn around and head home.”

“Assuming of course that the Conglomerate are heading for Xemis,” T’Val stated.

“Well yes,” Tikva replied immediately, then stopped, turned to Gabrielle with a questioning look, then to Gérard. “Wait, could they have enough fuel on board?”

“More than enough,” he answered without hesitation. “We are currently sitting at six light hours from Qal and they have enough fuel for,” he paused to recheck his scans, “twenty hours with a few assumptions on what their fusion reactor can do.”

“Mission Control to Nimma, be advised we’re about to go live with our transmissions. The Administrator would like to remind you that we are going global with this one.” Thaph Xol’s reassuring and calm tone could have been describing the end of the world and made it sound comforting and with just enough authority behind it to reassure listeners that everything was going to be alright.

“Understood Control,” Rejach answered.

The Nimma had departed its berth only a few hours ago, slowly expanding its orbit until it’d risen far enough away from Qal that all the models agreed would be safe for them to engage the Cush-drive. All of their pre-flights had been completed, everything was blue across the board and all that had been left was to condition the nacelles before flight, a process rapidly coming to a head.

“I am so glad we’re up here and not down there right now,” Pas Jel said from their seat at the rear of the small command module. “It must be a full-on media frenzy right now.”

“And the Administrator will be weaving their charm through the lot of it,” Zihaz Gin replied. “Weren’t there going to be representatives of the Pact and Kinship present at Misson Control for this?”

“Yes,” Rejach answered. “And I’ve already seen some of their commentary about this. Late launch, no point in doing this, face-saving exercise.” Rejach turned to face Gin with a smile, catching Jel’s attention too. “Sounds like no one has any idea at all what we’re about to do.”

“We’re about to make history and only because somehow the Conglomerate managed to keep the single best secret in modern history.” Gin’s smile was broad and accompanied by a satisfied head nod.

“No, not the Conglomerate. SoCoSA.” Jel’s clarification was warranted. “We all managed to keep a secret from our countryfolk for four years. We did the –“ A chirp from the console next to them cut them off, Jel’s attention shifting instantly to it. “We’re primed and ready for activation.”

“Mission Control to Nimma,” Xol’s voice came over the comms once more. “We’re reading you blue and blue for flight. Confirm?”

“Confirmed, Mission Control,” Rejach answered. The question was being asked because the dignitaries were on site now, sitting in the gallery behind Mission Control back on the ground. Speeches had likely been said now or were still in the process of it, but now the real theatrics could commence. “Permission to begin field activation?”

Rejach wouldn’t have traded anything to be on the ground right now, in the gallery, or elsewhere on Qal with the lead scientists of the Pact or Kinship. But they were certainly interested to know what their faces all looked like just then as the question was asked. ‘What field? What are they up to?’ The questions and confusion would have been palpable.

They’d have to settle for watching the news later because right now, history was in the process of being made.

“Granted Nimma. T minus fifty for drive activation.”

“You heard them,” Rejach said to Gin and Jel. “Let’s get going.”

“Ma’am,” the junior science officer blurted after their console had chirped for their attention. Gabrielle had taken no time at all to step over, peer over the young man’s shoulder, then stood and turned to her fellows, grin on her face.

“Subspace field detected at one hundred milli-cochranes and rising.”

“Come on,” Tikva said as she looked at the multiple images of the alien ship on the viewscreen, urging them on. “Come on!”

“Four hundred milli-cochranes,” Gabrielle announced.

“I’ll give them warp one point two,” Gérard declared from his station.

“You’re on,” Sam countered. “Two-five,” she said, upping the ante. “Captain?”

It took Tikva a moment to respond as her brain needed to process that someone had asked for her. “One point seven,” she answered. “T’Val?”

“I don’t see the point in betting on the success of a primitive warp vessel,” she answered with typical Vulcan stoicism. “If they manage to break the warp barrier on their first try that would be an achievement in itself.”

“Nine hundred milli-cochranes,” Gabrielle announced finally.

The bridge went silent.

“Field flux is at nine hundred Cush,” Jel said.

“We’re already accelerating away from Qal. We’re…we’re faster than anyone has gone already,” Gin said from the pilot’s seat.

“…three…two…one.” Xol’s countdown from the surface reached its end.

Rejach took in one deep breath, potentially their last, then reached forward with a single finger for a blinking green button before them that simply read ‘Engage’.

“Here’s hoping,” they said, then pressed it.

“Warp one point two six and holding steady,” Sam declared after a few spontaneous whoops and cheers for the enterprising little alien starship.

“God damn that must be a rush!” Tikva said excitedly.

The images on the viewscreen were gone, the Nimma having disappeared in a flash of light as it rapidly approached and then crossed over the lightspeed barrier into warp flight. Instead, there was now a plot, with the planet Qal on one side and Xemis on the other, a faint red line between them with a prospective course for the Nimma to take.

Only the dark blue line of her course wasn’t following that red line at all, cutting away from it rapidly, the distance between expectation and reality growing with each moment. As those on the bridge noticed, silence descended once more.

“Well,” Tikva said after a handful of seconds, nodding happily. “Guess that settles the question of did we get spotted or not.” She turned on the spot to catch everyone’s attention. “Let’s get ready to make a proper show it when they get here folks.”