“What’s up?” Mac asked, stepping out of the ready room and onto the bridge.

“It has become a two-ship race,” replied Lieutenant T’Val as she manipulated Atlantis through another faster-than-light turn along the Corridor. It wasn’t a sharp turn, for that would have either ripped the ship apart or required them to drop out of warp momentarily, but just as she started he swore he could feel it. Which was patently false he knew thanks to the inertial dampeners

“Two-horse race,” he corrected the expression as he stepped up to the helm and ops consoles.

“If you insist,” she replied, brushing off the correction with typical Vulcan stoicism. “We are being shadowed by a Breen heavy cruiser five point two light years to our port.” A tap of keys switched the viewscreen to a tactical assessment.

The Breen border occupied the left of the screen, its ugly dark green colour bright at the border and fading away as it bled to the left. The Tzenkethi border was a light purple that did the same, bleeding to black on the right of the screen. And in between was a black patch of space referred to as the B-T Corridor.

It offered so many exciting possibilities for quick commerce between the Ferengi Alliance, the Thomar Expanse and the Cardassian Union beyond. But instead, commerce had to either go over or under the spheres of influence as the Breen and Tzenkethi’s informal neutral buffer zone liked to occasionally explode into ‘spirited discussions regarding territorial claims and possession’. With plenty of exchanges about ‘excellent forced employment opportunities’ to boot.

Even to a casual observer, the display looked like one of those periods of ‘intense deliberation’ wasn’t far off. Tzenkethi ships within their territory were moving to confirmed and suspected rallying points – populous worlds, important resource operations and what Starfleet Intelligence was certain was a Tzenkethi subspace telescope that could possibly read the serial numbers off of DS47’s hull plates given enough time.

But nothing on their side of the border was moving much faster than warp six. Nothing was shadowing or running parallel to Atlantis.

The Breen side of the equation however was different. Ships were massing, but not nearly in large enough forces to take on the Tzenkethi directly. It felt like a smattering of raiding forces getting ready. To breach the Tzenkethi border in so many places that defence of all would be impossible. Yes, the Tzenkethi could protect what was truly important, but everything else was vulnerable. Where defence forces could get, they’d overwhelm the raiders, but everyone else would be in and out before anyone could stop them.

But a single dot, one bright red little blip, the colour chosen no doubt to get his attention, was just inside the Breen border and mirroring Atlantis’ flight path. It was keeping the same speed and mirroring course changes as the mighty ship barreled between Scylla and Charybdis. And according to the tracking trail, she’d careened into detection from deep inside the Confederacy before taking her place. To the left and behind, but a constant companion for the last few minutes.

“We’ve designated them as Bogey Zulu.” Rrr’s tone carried none of their normal jovial nature, all seriousness in light of their current situation. “No determination on class, but she’s fast. Someone in Command is going to want to know about this eventually.”

“Let’s hope she’s just some weird little one-off special interceptor.” At least that was his hope. He didn’t relish the idea of Breen raiders being able to keep pace with Atlantis or other ships in the Expanse like Dragon or Sojourner.

“Breen interceptor meant to run us off or slow us down for the bigger ships to chase down?”

“Or at least keep us on sensors so they can figure out just what we’re up to.” He patted Rrr’s console a couple of times. “Shout out if they do anything different. And T’Val,” he stopped as she looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, “keep doing an exceptional job.”

“Yes sir,” she responded, conveying the feeling that her verbal response was purely perfunctory.

“Ch’tkk’va, any of those Tzenkethi ships out there a known flagship?” He left Rrr and T’Val with managing the ship here and now, marching up the starboard ramp and around the arch to the ship’s tactical station where the chief of security was parked in Gantzmann’s absence.

“A few of them are broadcasting ids that match historical records, but their emissions no longer match. Some are larger, others smaller.” The Xindi-Insectoid brought up a few records on their screen for Mac to review. “I would wager the Tzenkethi have similar traditions to the Federation and preserve ship names across generations.”

“What’s the expected range of Tzenkethi sensors?” He hummed to himself as Ch’tkk’va brought up an overlay on the main viewscreen, a series of circles blooming into life around the Tzenkethi formations and a slice piercing deep into Breen space from their suspected telescope. And then another few circles bloomed up around a few Federation sensor platforms in the Expanse and Atlantis herself.

“So we’re seeing more of the Breen than the Tzenkethi are?”

“Yes and no. As we continue down the corridor we will lose sight of Breen formations and gain sight of others. But our positioning between the two powers right now is granting us an insight that the Tzenkethi likely aren’t getting. Both sides have positioned just far enough behind their own borders to avoid direct detection from their major fleet positions.”

“Can you fudge the source of the data slightly? Make anything from the sensor platforms look like it’s coming directly from us? And maybe downgrade the resolution slightly?”

Ch’tkk’va stopped and looked directly at him, which was only a marginally disconcerting thing these days. A giant bug with compound eyes still caused the more primitive parts of the human brain to respond in rather basic ways. Ways which the more reasoning parts still had trouble reigning in. “I should advise you Commander that sharing sensor data with the Tzenkethi could be considered an act of treason. They are a hostile power to the Federation and they could glean information regarding our capabilities from what we send them.”

“I’ll wear it, don’t worry. The Tzenkethi aren’t the ones chasing after us, or who recently have some history with this ship. Frankly, I think the Tzenkethi have been downright civil towards us in the last few decades, comparatively that is, and I’d hope giving them the best heads up we can might go some way to normalising relations.”

Ch’tkk’va’s mandibles clicked a few times, an expression he likened to a sigh, before they turned back to the tactical console. “I can run our data through a filter. As if an original Sovereign-class starship was gathering the data?”

“Perfect. Over twenty years old, should be within what they think we can do anyway. If any of the notable Breen formations disappear from the data, add them back in. Once you’ve got it sorted, transmit it towards every major Tzenkethi fleet formation. Sign it ‘With our compliments, USS Atlantis’”

Ch’tkk’va clicked away again, briefly. “Of course, Commander. You know, they’ll think the data is a trap of course.”

“I know I would. But then I’d fire up that telescope and check out a few of the more interesting targets. Once they see a few data points line up someone will argue for checking the rest. Hopefully before the Breen -”

“Commander,” Rrr spoke up loudly merely to get Mac’s attention.

Eyes shifted to the viewscreen and he saw what had changed. A second red blip ahead of them and moving on an intercept course. And the first had a projected course line that was slowly curving to meet at the same point, even if it would take fifteen minutes for it to do so after the first.

“Bogey Yankee,” Rrr detailed. “Interception in two hours fifteen minutes.”

“And about thirty minutes short of the Ferengi Alliance.” He slammed a fist into the arch in frustration. “Rrr, you’ve got the conn. I’m going to go see if Velan is holding back on us.”

“Mac, good, hold this,” Velan said when he spotted MacIntrye wandering through his engine room a bit like a lost puppy. Or just someone without a direct purpose and trying to get through to him. The item in question was an advanced, and heavy, piece of diagnostic equipment he was pulling out of a storage cabinet and had been prepared to set down, but a fresh pair of hands was better.

That done, he reached in and pulled out the case he was actually after, size and weight much the same as the one he’d just handed over. “Right, you can put that back,” he suggested, then turned to face engineering. “Jess! Got that waveguide tester for you.”

“Anything we should be worrying about?” Mac asked as he set the large tester back in its cabinet and closed the door.

“Not currently,” he said to the slightly older man as a bubbly, bouncy and downright cheerful-looking engineer practically bounced up to him, eyes going wide as she looked at the size of the test equipment he was offering her, then steeled herself before taking it off of him.

“Oof!” the young woman exclaimed as she came to terms with the weight, not even noticing Mac, then turned and downright plodded away while shouting for someone, anyone, to bring her a grav platform.

“We have cadets aboard ship?” Mac asked.

“Nah, just the ensigns keep getting younger,” he said with a smile, tapping Mac’s chest with the back of his hand before leading him further in and towards the thrumming heart of Atlantis. “We were never that young.”

“Or downright bubbly.”

“Or small,” he said with a snort. “Don’t tell the cap, but she’s actually shorter than Tikva. By a lot.”

“Oh god,” he said, turning back to see the young woman finally getting some help from her colleagues. “She is, isn’t she? Cripes, is everyone helping her right now?”

“Practically. Ensign Sumner is apparently quite popular with some of the crew. Anyway, enough of that,” he said in an attempt to move the conversation to a more serious tone. “What can I do for you?”

“I don’t suppose you; the builders and the designers of this fine ship are lying and Atlantis has a bit more in reserve?” The question was asked quietly, Mac stepping a touch closer so he could lower his voice even further. “We’ve got a Breen ship on intercept, give it two hours. Thirty minutes short of the Ferengi border and with another chasing behind us as well. I’m not expecting a running battle with them, but if they’ve updated those energy dampers of theirs, we could be in a world of hurt.”

“Dropping out of warp at this speed, uncontrolled? We’d be spread across a few light months easily.”

“That’s kind of terrifying to think about,” Mac said.

“Which is why we slow down to at least warp nine before just stopping. It’s the stress of running at such high speeds.” He stroked his chin in thought for a moment. “We need to keep the range open just enough that they can’t get those damnable weapons on us or disrupt our warp field. So, a few hundred thousand kilometres relative, yes?”

“I’d prefer millions, but I’ll take four hundred thousand at a minimum.”

“We wait till the Breen is within say three light-seconds, then I open the injectors past max operating limits, suppress all the alarms and hope we don’t blow up?” He smiled at Mac and saw the commander’s concerned expression. “We’ll hardly blow up. But I’m only going to give you two seconds like that, then we’re back to this,” he said with a wave towards the warp core on the other side of a piece of curved glass, thrumming away in a steady humm versus a ubiquitous gentle thrum.

“Two seconds at break-neck speeds?”

“As long as they can’t follow us, that should keep the distance open. And most warp sustainers on torpedoes can’t do the speed we’re doing anyway, so we’re safe that way too.”

“There’s a problem with that plan,” a third voice said as they looked up from their console.

Atlantis’ engineering department had more in common with the Ross-class ships and hence the older Galaxy-class than with the first-generation Sovereign-class ships. Gone was the cavernous engineering space around the warp core, replaced with storerooms, offices and much easier access to the reaction chamber a few meters away. And as such the multitude of control consoles that kept the tumultuous fury of matter and anti-matter annihilation were much closer to the core as well.

“Plasma pressure in the nacelles will spike,” said Lieutenant Merktin, the senior most Tellarite in Engineering. “We’ll risk melting coils if we don’t do something straight away.”

“Easy, open the nacelle vents and let the plasma flow. Oh…that’ll hurt the warp field some and the Breen will catch up.” His hands found his waist as he looked up at the ceiling, thinking.

“Wouldn’t it slow the Breen down as well?” Mac asked.

“Only if they fly straight into it, which is likely due to the speeds we’re all doing. But…Merktin, plasma discharge is really only a big issue because it gets caught in the trail of the deflector fields, then lurks around and throws off the warp field. But we know the frequency of the plasma we’ll be putting out.”

“So we recalibrate the navigation deflector to let the plasma pass without issue. And assuming we don’t hit some interstellar plasma in the same energetic state we should be fine.” The Tellarite turned back to her console and started entering some numbers. “I’ll need to run a few models to make sure we get the frequency numbers right.”

“I’ll join you,” he said, moving around Mac. “Give us an hour, we’ll have you a solution, Mac.”

“Uh, right you are. Sounds better than fighting it out with the Breen anyway.”

“And without your Tholian girlfriend either,” he chipped in as Mac started to retreat from Engineering.

“Yah yah, laugh it up. I’ve got silk bedsheets now you know!” Mac threw back as he turned the corner.

“Wait, he has Tholian silk bedsheets?” Merktin asked. “Now I can see what Doctor Pisani likes about him.”