“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.”