As the bridge of the diminutive little Bismarck rocked once more, the lighting flickered and a ceiling panel fell, just missing Malakai’s feet by a few centimetres. Somewhere a loud pop sounded behind a wall panel, and smoke billowed out from it, the displays nearby falling dead instantly.

“Rear shields at ten per cent,” Noah Becker announced from Tactical, having taken the station in the absence of Bismarck’s tactical officer. “We really can’t take much more of this.”

“Where the hell is Argonaut?” Malakai asked as he pushed out of his seat, stumbling towards the helm to look over Samantha’s shoulder at her displays.

“Fifteen minutes,” Noah answered. He might as well have said fifteen hours. Or weeks.

Another jostling of the entire ship, another flickering of the lights.

“I’d really appreciate if the Breen would stop poking holes in my ship,” Malakai grumbled, scanning over the navigational data next to Samantha.

“Yeah, yeah,” the young ensign said, not carrying that she was addressing a captain. “Fly better, Sam. Don’t get hit, Sam.”

Malakai snorted, actually pleased with the derision. “Your words, not mine.” Then he jabbed at a smudge on one of the screens. “There. Can you get us there?”

“Mutara-class nebula?” Samantha asked, briefly looking at the navigational chart. “If the Breen would stop shooting at my engines, yes.” She tapped at her controls, adjusting Bismarck’s course and begging Engineering for as much speed as they could give. “Permission to fly her apart?”

“Hey, I’d rather you did it than they did,” Malakai said with a smile, patting her on the back as he stood up straight. “Just remember she’s not a shuttle.”

“Bissy has landing gear. That makes her a shuttle,” Samantha shot back.

A low, frantic thrum vibrated through the deck plates as Bismarck found what little sprinting speed she had left. At least the impacts of disruptor fire stopped for a moment. But it was too good to last.

“They’re matching,” Noah reported, just before the ship itself told everyone. “Aft shields at five per cent.”

Then a merry little chime issued from Tactical, drawing Noah’s attention away to another screen for a moment. “Perseus on long-range sensors. She’s trying to hail the Breen and is on an intercept. Tizona is riding shotgun with her. She’s…”

“About an hour or so out?” Malakai asked. “Way too much, way too late.”

“Uh, that’s not all she’s doing.” Taima Ilves was ensconced among the science readouts on the small bridge, scanning incoming data with the focus of someone desperately trying to avoid the reality around her. “She’s also just transmitting a wideband subspace carrier signal into the nebula ahead of us. With a lot of power behind it. Like, a stupid amount of power.”

“What? Why?” Malakai quickly crossed the bridge, stepping over a fallen beam, kicking at debris.

“You tell me; I’m an archaeologist.” Taima reached out a steadying hand for Malakai as the ship rocked, sideways this time.

“Trying to turn when they shoot, Cap,” Samantha shouted.

“It’s a Mutara-class nebula,” Malakai muttered to Taima. “Why would they be transmitting into a nebula like that? What could they possibly be doing?”

“Well, it is exciting the nebula matter,” Taima said, pointing at a readout. “With these sensors, I could kinda see into the nebula a bit before they started, poorly mind you, but I could. Now I can’t.”

“And neither can the Breen.” Malakai’s grin widened. Perseus was making their smoke screen even better, from as far away as she was. “Just need a few more minutes and we can play hide-and-go-seek till Argo gets here.”

“Three raiders against Argonaut is still not good odds.” Taima looked up at Malakai. “Even if we join in, it’s still not good odds.”

“No, but we’ll take them.”

Two more shakes, each preceded by Samantha making wild course changes, before Malaki slumped back into his chair, half sitting, half falling with a third impact. “Time until the nebula?”

“One minute,” Samantha answered.

“Aft shields gone,” Noah informed.

“Oh yeah, no rush,” Samantha grumbled. “Maybe we can try nicely asking the Breen to fuck off!”

“Isn’t that how we got here?” Malakai asked, earning a chuckle from Samantha in response.

An angry alarm at Tactical drew Malakai’s attention and he watched as Noah’s expression blanched. Then shifted to utter confusion immediately as the angry blurting changed to the happy little bleeping meant to let someone know something had changed that they might want to know about. “Friendly contact ahead.”

“On screen!”

The viewscreen was awash with glitches, something somewhere behind it obviously broken. A few black lines, a couple of bright green, some of inverted colours, all crossed the screen from side to side. But the nebula that they were heading for, hoping for momentary safety until help could arrive, was unmistakable. Blues and reds blended together in flowing swirls, guided by magnetic fields that would eventually strip them of their remaining shields and hash every sensor aboard even Bismarck, let alone the Breen raiders chasing them.

Then the magnification snapped once, twice, a third time, zooming in on an object emerging from the nebula.

A gleaming white hull, the saucer’s leading edge trimmed in black, filled the viewscreen. The design screamed Utopia Planitia, it was so prototypical of a Starfleet of yesteryear. A true monster of a starship, it dwarfed Bismarck, or any ship in the Expanse for that matter. More than equal to the Breen raiders chasing them right now.

The new arrival was sailing out from the nebula with her running lights on full, demanding to be seen. He’d only ever seen an Odyssey-class ship once before, safely doing laps around a starbase back in the Federation, instead of what they were designed for. But here, now, it was the happiest sight he’d ever seen.

“Samantha, I’m not so proud as not to run and hide under her skirt.”

“Cowering as fast as I can,” Samantha answered.

“Open transmission,” Noah announced before bringing it up in a window off to the side on the viewscreen.

For a ship that was sailing into a fight, the bridge on screen was calm and collected. No one looked concerned or worried they were about to be shot at. But only two faces present were familiar to Malakai, the most important of them sitting smack dab in the middle.

And she looked pissed.

“This is Commodore Theodoras of the Federation starship Canopus to Breen forces. I’m only going to say this once. Go home. Now.” She nodded her head once, and the channel instantly cut off.

“See she hasn’t changed since that speech to the Dominion at Deneb,” Noah commented.

Taima huffed. “At least we’re not being rescued to classical pop music.”

The viewscreen’s magnification stepped down automatically as Canopus sailed closer and closer, right past Bismarck as she dared the Breen to continue firing on their prey.

“We’re being hailed,” Noah announced as Bismarck fell into formation behind the much, much larger ship. The viewscreen showed the brief green flashes of Breen ships jumping to warp, opting for the better part of valour against one of Starfleet’s premier ships.

“Captain Spencer, hope you don’t mind us scaring off your dance partners,” Commodore Theodoras said, visibly more relaxed and smiling now that she wasn’t staring down hostile forces.

“They were getting a bit handsy, ma’am,” Malakai replied. “New ride?”

“For me at least. Standby and we’ll get repair and medical teams over to you shortly. I’d like you and Commander Becker to come aboard once you’ve secured your ship and explain just what you did to piss off the Breen.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Malakai said. A nod of heads and the channel closed, leaving Bismarck’s bridge quiet.

There hadn’t been the tremendous relief of a battle won, or the angst of defeat. Just an evaporation of tension. An unfair fight ended with a 500-pound gorilla simply roaring and sending the attackers scurrying off.

“We’re in trouble,” Noah finally said, breaking the silence.

“Nah,” Malakai argued, dragging out the single word. “My charming smile, your recounting of facts and the priceless relic we saved from the Breen. We’ll be fine.”

“Bring it with us?”

“Always bring a peace offering,” Malakai answered as he stepped around debris, heading for his ready room, Noah departing the bridge as well. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try to find a clean tunic before seeing the boss. Taima, you have the bridge.”

“What’s left of it.”

“Please forward all complaints to the Breen Confederacy,” Malakai replied. “But don’t expect a reply anytime soon.”