“T’Val,” Tikva said quietly from her chair, the only noise on the patiently waiting bridge.

Even the customary chirps, pops and whistles of stations advising sapient users of some miscellaneous update had opted to vacate themselves in light of what was coming.

“Yes ma’am?” the Vulcan woman answered from the helm without looking over her shoulder.

“Turn the ship forty-five degrees to starboard.”

There was no protest or query, just a nod from the T’Val and the order executed as Atlantis spun lazily on her x-axis.

A glance to her right though and Tikva saw the barely perceptible rise of Kendris’ eyebrow as their eyes met. She smiled, then winked, which raised the eyebrow another few notches. “Less intimidating if we’re showing off the ship, versus being head-on when they arrive.”

“And starboard?” Kendris asked flatly.

“It’s our best side,” she answered with a raise of her chin and her attention back towards the viewscreen. The chortle of amusement from behind her hadn’t gone unnoticed.

And that is why we can’t ever, ever, ever suggest to anyone in command that we make Lin our XO.

That and we’d be making stupid eyes at her all the time?

Oh, it’d last like five minutes. Then she’d get all professional-

One of us has to!

-and then so would we.

Power couple!

Disaster waiting to happen.

Best. Disaster. Ever.

Shut up you.

“If I can say so, Atlantis is a much more handsome ship side-on than head-on.” Kendris rose slowly to her feet and stepped over behind the large hulking form of Rrr’mmm’bal’rrr at the operations station at the front of the bridge. “Time until arrival?”

“Same as it was five minutes ago, Commander,” the Gaen commented, “just five minutes less now.” The attempt at humour fell flat and they cleared their throat. “Still guessing here on what they may or may not consider close proximity, but call it three minutes.”

It was evident that Kendris wanted to do something more than just sitting here, waiting. To take some sort of precautions against a theoretical threat. But she didn’t call for shields to be raised. Or anything else that a good executive officer might have done, or at least asked about. They’d had that conversation hours ago after all. Instead, she opted to take a walk around the bridge, letting her presence be known to the collected officers as she checked on them and letting Tikva remain undisturbed.

“Rather exciting, yes?” asked a voice, half-forgotten to her left. Gavin Hu, chief counsellor and rare presence on the bridge, had on Tikva’s request, made his way up to the bridge for this occasion. “Not just first contact, but first-first contact.”

 “It’s certainly unique,” Tikva admitted.

“I checked the numbers. The vast majority of first contacts are with already warp-capable species. Making contact with a species so soon after their first warp flight is…rare. Not a lot of crews have done it.” Gavin leaned over the armrest of his seat slightly. “And most of those had been part of long-term anthropological surveys. Guess we lucked out on this one.”

“It is why I called you up here Gavin. Watch my back while I attempt diplomacy once again?”

“Hopefully with fewer people firing disruptors at us this time?” he asked with a smile. “Should really check in on Daloon when I get a chance.”

“Drive shut down in five…four…” Jel’s countdown wasn’t needed, but they obviously felt better giving it, so neither of the two at the front of the capsule stopped them. “Three…two…one.”

There was a low whine that went through the entirety of the Nimma as the ship’s circumvention of the laws of physics was brought to a halt, the field that allowed superluminal travel disappearing and the universal laws reasserting themselves. The universe could be fooled only while the trick was being done. The pinpricks of light that had been streaking past them as they travelled, some visual effect of the Cush Drive, resolved back into singular, unmoving dots – the stars of the universe once more steady and still.

“Securing drive,” Jel announced as the solid audible click of switches could be heard.

“Beginning calculations for the return trip,” Gin announced as they started to enter numbers into the ship’s computer, setting into motion the hours-long process to do all calculations needed for a safe trip home.

If they would get that long.

“Merciful spirits,” Rejach heard someone say, taking a moment to realise they had been the ones to say it. The windows out the front of the Nimma were a concession granted by the engineers who had initially wanted screens and cameras only. And now Rejach was grateful that particular fight had been won by the pilots who had been shortlisted for the Nimma as they were certain they wouldn’t have believed a monitor.

They could barely believe their own eyes anyway.

A truly massive ship hung in space before them, its silvery hull lit up by a series of running lights and the faint starshine of the cosmic void. Two nacelles, swept back and behind an imposing mass reminded Rejach immediately of Nimma’s own nacelles but on a much more grandiose scale. Whoever these beings were, they too had come to similar conclusions as the Southern Conglomerate on how to make a Cush drive work.

Rejach had been prepared for this, had spoken with Administrator Vil about what to do in the event of contact with beings not of Qal. But preparation and reality were having a hard time coming together right now.

“Holy…” Jel chimed in from the rear as their attention had turned forward, seeing what Rejach had seen first. “That thing’s massive.”

“Well, best have something nice to say,” Gin added dryly, “we’re going to need about a few hours.”

“Maybe they haven’t seen us?” Jel asked, knowing the answer already but giving voice to the slimmest of hopes.

“Maybe…” Rejach started just before the first flash of light in the distance, near the imposing alien ship. A bright red burst of colour, slow and lazy as streamers expanded out from a central point. Then a blue one, then green. “I think they’ve seen us.”

“Are…are those fireworks?” Jel asked.

Rejach squinted at the display for a moment more, then down at their own instruments. The ranging radar didn’t show anything approaching the Nimma. The alien ship still didn’t show up despite being right in front of them. And then instantly it was there on the radar, a return so strong the computer started to scream at them.

Shuffling in the rear confirmed Jel was looking at their own screens. “Holy,” they repeated. “The nacelles on that thing are longer than the Nimma.”

And then the radio started chirping at them.

Beep beep beep. Someone was transmitting and the computers had recognised a carrier wave.

The aliens wanted to talk.

Instinct and training kicked in for Rejach. They reached forward, flicked the hard switch for the radio and then spoke, firmly and confidently.

“This is the Southern Conglomerate….” Rejach paused, swallowed, then continued. “This is the Qalian starship Nimma to unknown vessel. Please identify yourself.”

There was an aching heartbeat, then another. A handful passed before a smooth, soft voice came over the speakers in the cabin of the Nimma. “This is Captain Tikva Theodoras of the United Federation of Planets starship Atlantis to the brave crew of the Nimma. I’d like to be the first to congratulate you on your successful flight and to the galaxy at large. Captain Rejach Vaanj, would you still like to win the race to Xemis?”

There was no denying the tone of voice at the end there. These aliens clearly had to have some fantastical translator or had been observing Qal for ages to have mastered their language, but whatever it was, the mischievous tone of voice had managed to come across in the alien’s speech.

“Because we can help with that if you want.”