“Okay, that’s enough. Time to stop sulking.” Rachel Garland’s words could have come across as pushy as she barged into the darkened room, and perhaps they were, but Tikva could feel the love that came with the admonishment. After all, sometimes the duty of a friend was to kick another up the backside and get them moving again.

“Well, now I just want to sulk some more.” Not that she thought she was sulking. More brooding. Pondering. Worrying.

Giving off the airs of command?

Looking responsible?

Mysterious!

And it’s ruined…

When she had arrived on Perseus, she’d been given the premier VIP quarters aboard ship, which were a near rival for her own quarters on Atlantis. But since learning that Atlantis had gone missing, she’d practically holed herself up in here, save for a few visits to the bridge or lurking at the back of Rachel’s staff briefings.

It had given her way too much time to think about too many subjects.

Nonsense! One of them is super important!

“Tough, Bug.” Rachel hadn’t ordered the lights up, for there was no need. The orange-brown light of the Underspace aperture, only a few thousand kilometers away, lit the quarters up sufficiently through the expansive windows. She had stopped by the replicator at least and when she stepped up beside Tikva, offered a steaming cup of tea to her friend and commanding officer. “We’re all set for entering and following Atlantis now. Or, will be in ten minutes. Engineering and Ops are running around strapping everything down that they can.”

The tea was a welcome thing, an utterance of thanks given before a testing sip. Earl Grey – another joke from their academy days. ‘Drink the drink of captains’ they joked in their lighter moments and only after making sure no officers had been around to hear them.

“What do you make of that?” Tikva finally asked after a few more sips, indicating the yawning portal before them. Not but an hour ago it had spat out another starship, this one a Tzenkethi destroyer that was barely operational when it had stumbled back into real space. An offer of technical assistance had been denied, but a lesser one of beamed power to assist them in repairs had at least been grudgingly accepted.

Though Tikva thought it had more to with Mac’s warning that a handful of Breen ships were on the way that convinced the Tzenkethi that expediting repairs was preferable to being crippled when they arrived and potentially dislodged the Starfleet ships that were present.

“You want me to say one thing, so you can play devil’s advocate and argue the other?” Rachel asked, tilting her head as she studied Tikva. “Or you just needing to sound out some thoughts?”

“Just answer the question.”

Rachel’s chuckle was a carefree thing. “Alright, alright. Geez, promote someone and they get bossy.”

“I’ve always been bossy.”

“No argument.” Rachel stared at the aperture briefly, then sighed. “It’s a mixed blessing, isn’t it? On the one hand, if we could figure this thing out and make it safe, we’d have a magnificent shortcut to just about anywhere in the galaxy. But at the same time, I don’t think I like the idea of Chancellor Toral’s Klingon Empire having the ability to go raiding wherever they feel like, with little to no chance of mounting a defence.”

“Dammit, I hadn’t even thought about the Klingons.” Tikva shook her head at the prospect. “I’m still so used to thinking of them as our dependable allies. I was mentally preparing for whatever the Breen might do, or the Cardassians. Heck, even the Dominion if the Bajoran Wormhole suddenly became irrelevant on the strategic side of things.”

“The trade and exploration opportunities though would be amazing.” Rachel had already played the negative side of her ‘mixed bag’, now she was onto the positive. “We could do those fundamental things Starfleet was meant to do – explore strange new worlds and new civilisations.”

“Right up until the first attack on a major world, someone cries bloody murder and we’re all pulled back and tied down defending worlds because borders mean nothing anymore.” Tikva turned to her friend, face devoid of emotion. “It happened after Mars. It could happen again. Exploration dies another death.”

Rachel’s silence was telling. But then she seemed to summon the energy that Tikva couldn’t herself at the moment. Shoulders rolled back, spine straightened, and she smiled. Enough to bring on to Tikva’s face in pale imitation. Right there in just those simple actions she was reminded why she’d given Rachel her nickname of Rhea – Ray of sunshine. “I said it’s time to stop sulking, Fleet Captain. Those are problems for another day. Right now we need to go be big damn heroes for your crew of big damn heroes.”

“Not you too,” Tikva pleaded as she followed Rachel out into the corridor. “We don’t need the hero worship.”

“Hey, I’m still trying to figure out if the Iron Bitch of Deneb is referring to you, or Atlantis. I managed to watch the sensor playback from one of the ships in orbit…you girl have theatrical power.”

The other aspect of a good friend, it turned out, was embarrassment to keep your ego in check.

“Okay, this is a bit rougher than what I was mentally ready for,” Rachel said out loud as the currents of Underspace and the debris of less fortunate travellers before them buffeted Perseus. Light panels around the bridge of yester-year were pulsing yellow, klaxons silenced prior to the ship entering Underspace at least. The crew hopefully were braced throughout the ship, much like the bridge personnel, as they held onto consoles or chairs to stay in place.

“Would help if we didn’t have a monkey on our back,” Commander Jasper Riggs commented from Rachel’s right. “It’s blocking the stardrive impulse engine.”

As Perseus had been making its way towards the Underspace opening, the Grok’ti had launched themselves forward with perfect timing. No attempt at communications had halted them and the near-fluid like nature of their ship had played perfectly to their apparent motive of hitching a ride through Underspace on Perseus’ back.

“Captain, I’m having trouble here.” The young woman at the helm of the great ship was struggling, wrestling with her controls, with the responses the ship was giving her, and with the changing nature of Underspace as they rolled with the flows of the ship demented subspace realm. “I can’t keep her in the center and if we hit the wall…” She didn’t need to explain any further.

“Do your best Ensign, keep her steady.” Rachel’s words could have been the most inspiring speech of all time for all the good they would do.

“Rhea.” Tikva had sat down to Rachel’s left, in the seat reserved for visitors on the bridge. She’d been good about keeping her mouth shut, letting Rachel run her ship without interference. She valued and treasured her friend too much to step on those toes. Now however she spoke up. Things were too important. “No insult to your pilot, but you need a better one right now.”

“Ensign Barnes is the best rated helmswoman on this ship.”

“Really?” Tikva hissed back. “Really really?”

“You can’t be serious?” Rachel snapped back, the concerns of her helmswoman ignored momentarily. “Tikva, she knows what she’s doing.”

“Rhea,” Tikva said again, perhaps a bit more pleading than she wanted it to come out as.

“No.” Rachel’s one-word answer was firm, immutable. There would be no changing her mind.

Until the universe, in all its glory had its counter-argument heard.

Yellow lights gave way to red, klaxons sounded afresh throughout the ship. All eyes turned to the viewscreen to see what was the issue just as an enormous chunk of debris broke across Perseus’ bow, shields flaring and flickering as the collision shook the mighty ship. Some had been able to grab onto their stations, others braced as best they could. But some hadn’t been able to at all. Both officers at the front of the bridge had been thrown from their stations, tossed to the floor with reckless abandon.

“Collision alert,” the computer announced after the fact. “Collision alert,” it repeated, this time well in advance of the impending collision on screen.

“Barnes!” Rachel shouted at the young woman on the floor, who barely moved. “Riggs, secure her.”

The young man didn’t need to be told twice as he got to his feet and moved to hold Barnes in place against any further turbulence. “Riggs to Sickbay, medical emergency on the bridge!” he shouted after a tap on his comm badge.

Rachel turned immediately to Tikva, her earlier ‘No’ now forgotten. “My bridge, my ship, my orders. Got me?”

“Aye, captain,” Tikva answered before flinging herself out of her chair and across the bridge. It only took her a second to study Barnes’ configuration, to find the most urgent controls and lay her fingers over them.

“Collision alert,” the computer repeated.

“Yeah yeah,” Tikva muttered.

Right, let’s not screw this up, yeah?

Screw this up? We’re the best dammit.

Uh, when did we last fly a ship this big again?

Who cares? It’s like riding a bike.

Ramming speed!

Ignoring that last intrusive thought, Tikva’s fingers danced over the controls, spinning Perseus on one axis, applying thrust, spinning on another. Talent, training and confidence born of years of experience saw her make the large ship dance in ways that it rightfully shouldn’t have. Instead of slamming into the large piece of debris they were bound for, the majority of it a sickly green reminiscent of a Klingon ship, it merely scrapped along Perseus’ saucer, a faint shudder throughout the ship.

“I’ve got an ion trail,” the Andorian at Ops announced, having climbed back into his seat. “Starfleet impulse engines at best guest.”

“Give it to the helm,” Rachel ordered. “Helm, follow that trail, best possible speed.”

“There’s something else up ahead,” the Ops officer announced. The orange-brown of the Underspace corridor shifted, angry red lightning mixed with it, but all flowing in one direction.

“Dammit,” Rachel announced. “Steady as she goes.”

There was a lurch and the undeniable sensation of acceleration as they crossed some sort of threshold in the corridor, flung along its length. No debris was in his part of the network, a function of the natural flow that moved everything along. But before much could be said about it, or sensors studied, Perseus was thrown once more into normal space.

They hadn’t hit the wall and fallen out – they’d hit the end of the line, exiting almost as smoothly as their entrance into Underspace had been.

“Secure all stations,” Rachel announced. “I want damage reports and a check of all decks.” Medical personnel finally arrived, pouring out of a turbolift at the rear of the bridge. “Where the hell are we?”

“No idea,” Tikva said as she checked the helm, the navigational sensors still trying to find anything they recognised to get a fix on. “But we’re on the right track, at least.” Her hands made a command of the ship’s systems and the viewscreen snapped from an unfamiliar starfield to a probe only a few million kilometre away. Another command and the image zoomed as tight as it could get.

And there, for all to see, was a Starfleet delta in modern colours on the side of the probe.

Rachel had stepped up beside Tikva, setting a hand on her shoulder. “Nice flying Bug. But after that, I’m starting to think those tunnels might just be too dangerous.”

“No argument here,” Tikva answered. “At least in this crate.”

“Okay, that’s it, out of the seat. Insult my ship, lose your flying privileges.”