“Captain,” Lt. JG Itata sh’Zeles’s voice carried across the bridge with urgency. “The Breen vessels are on pace to intercept. They’ve increased to warp nine-point-seven. Thirty minutes remain until they reach us.”

The chief intelligence officer’s white pixie cut shimmered as her antennae tilted forward attentively. Her voice was smothered in tension. At her intelligence and sensor station along the raised crescent of the rear bridge, data poured in like a waterfall of orange and indigo across the LCARS interface.

Captain Raku Mobra straightened in his chair. The leather-like texture of the command seat pressed firmly against his back. His dark Bajoran brow creased as the dark, earthy lines of his features scrunched together. “We can’t run forever,” he said with hints of weariness baked into his voice.

The cascade of auburn hair atop Lt. JG Crismarlyn Ruiz swung as she turned to make eye contact with the captain. The tanned Latina’s brown eyes gleamed above a faint smirk. “The Cardinal can hold warp nine-point-five for at least ten hours without pushing her too hard, Captain. Twelve tops. That’s more than enough to leave these three in our wake.” Her fingers tapped idly at the curve of the helm interface. She viewed the helm controls as though the ship itself was an instrument to be played.

Raku’s gaze shifted to her. Warp nine-point-five… That was just below the Cardinal’s true ceiling of nine-point-six. Every officer on the bridge knew it. A chase at those speeds would bleed the ship’s endurance. “Close,” he murmured. “But not far enough.”

Lt. Cmdr. Marlon Smythe folded his arms in the seat alongside Raku’s right hand. Smythe’s dark oaken skin reflected the viewscreen’s glow. The man’s smooth voice cut the air like a sharpened blade. “Perhaps we shouldn’t flee at all, Captain. We did nothing wrong.” His honey-brown eyes locked on Raku with calm conviction. A quiet storm churned beneath them.

At the rear raised section, sh’Zeles turned to face the command staff. “Sir,” she said quickly, “with the upgrades to our intelligence suite, the Cardinal is one of the few vessels that can establish contact with the Breen directly. New encryption defeating algorithms have been downloaded into our universal translator. We don’t have to keep running. We could talk.”

The sound of the aft doors as they opened stole the crew’s attention. Counselor Ikastrul Zaa swept into the bridge with quiet poise. The Betazoid woman’s black eyes seemed to drink in the scene. Dark hair fell elegantly along her shoulders to frame a soft, solemn expression.

“Counselor,” Raku said almost ruefully, “you’ve arrived just in time.”

“I sensed the tension from half a deck away,” Zaa replied softly. Her voice carried the warmth of her intuition. “I thought I might be needed.”

Raku gestured to invite her closer to his side. He leaned against the armrest, voice low. “A four-hundred-year-old Breen station snared us earlier. Their gravimetric polaron net trapped us cold. We destroyed the emitter with two high-yield torpedoes. The station is mostly ash now.” His jaw tightened as his gaze turned downwards towards the deck.

Zaa froze as her lips parted. “You destroyed it?” She glanced across the bridge at the crew. Their faces all appeared somewhat taut with anxiety. “Captain, fleeing after an act like that kind of looks like guilt. Does it not?”

Her question landed like a strike across the chest. Silence held for a heartbeat too long. Raku shifted in his chair. His voice carried the guilty weight of a sheepish admission. “Perhaps.”

Captain Raku drew in a deep breath as he straightened his chest alongside expanding shoulders. “Helm,” he ordered sharply. “Set a course toward the Breen squadron. Keep us deep within our side of the border. Mister M’kath. Keep shields up, but do not charge any weapons unless I give the direct order.”

“Affirmative, Captain. If needed, I can have weapons ready in an instant.” An excited hiss crept behind the Klingon’s words. Each word was spoken with an articulate, almost haughty Klingon accent of formality. His eyes widened into a bug-eyed stare.

Ruiz arched a brow as her grin widened with the thrill of risk. “Rimward heading, one-nine-five, aye.” The Cardinal responded immediately. The view on the main screen tilted to reflect the sweep of stars around the starship as it banked into a wide turn. The angle of the bridge shifted as inertial dampeners softened the maneuver.

Raku tapped his commbadge. “Engineering. Raku to Lieutenant Commander Moon.”

The channel chirped open with the lively voice of the Chief Engineer. Moon Jie-hee’s Korean accent carried a buoyancy even amidst the strain. “Moon here, Captain. Please tell me that we’re slowing down. My teams just had one of the older EPS relays pop during that last sprint.”

“Expect company,” Raku said firmly. “We’re moving to rendezvous with three Breen vessels.”

There was a pause. “Wait, did you say toward?” Moon’s voice pitched up incredulously. “Sir, do you realize what kind of stress we just threw across the power system? We ran at warp-nine-point four for an hour. We’ve got half the deck crews elbow-deep in overloaded plasma conduits, and you’re steering us back into the fire?”

“That’s the idea,” Raku replied simply.

Moon groaned audibly. “Captain, this ship is going to tear herself apart faster than the Breen can fire if you keep playing with the throttle like this.”

“Noted. Keep her steady, Commander. We’ll need everything you can give us.”

“Wonderful,” Moon muttered. “You break it, you buy it.” The channel closed with a sharp chirp.

Commander Smythe’s expression was unreadable as he turned his head toward the helm. “Lieutenant Ruiz, time to intercept?”

Her hands slid across the console. “Both sides are charging headlong towards each other. Let’s call it twelve minutes and thirty-three seconds, give or take.” She leaned back as satisfaction flashed across her face.

The khaki walls of the bridge curved in the classic Federation architecture of a Nebula-class bridge. Alongside the champagne-gold colored fixtures and struts, tension lay like coiled wire. The crescent-shaped ring of rear stations glowed coolly. A halo of manned consoles traced the raised command platform where Raku, Smythe and Zaa sat. The azure glow around its base painted faint lines across their bodies.

M’Row stretched in his chair at Operations. His orange-striped tail leapt upwards sharply. His mismatched eyes of ice and violet-red watched the displays with a feline squint. “I’ll say it,” he purred with a half-smile. “Running head-first into three Breen starships is madness.” His ears twitched forward playfully despite the tension. “But madness keeps things interesting.” The Caitian seemed more awake now than before the pursuit had started.

T’Naagi’s delicate Orion almond eyes narrowed underneath a tangled mop of copper-orange hair. “Madness,” she repeated softly. “Or desperation.” She adjusted her console with precise fingers. “Captain, our sensors confirm the Breen ships are not maneuvering aggressively yet. They are merely closing the distance.”

“Some could say that is aggressive”, M’kath barked.

“And what happens when they realize what we destroyed?” Smythe asked quietly.

“They already know,” Zaa said firmly. Her onyx gaze never left the captain. “They may be deciding whether to call it an attack or a mistake.”

Raku felt the silence linger as he ruminated. His heart drummed in a steady, nervous rhythm. He could feel his crew’s eyes on him. Some carried hints of doubt in their passing glance. “Then let them see us,” he said calmly. “Let them see we do not run.”

The bridge officers hummed through their shift as the final minutes ticked away towards the rendezvous. The USS Cardinal rushed rimward into the teeth of the unknown.

Time crept toward zero like a countdown no one tracked but all could feel. The USS Cardinal cut a steady line through subspace. Her warp field vibrated faintly against the bridge deckplates. On the forward screen, stars streaked past in lines of light. The crew worked in subdued rhythm, cloaked behind the quiet intensity of anticipation. Almost every station was keyed into the massive sensor dome that sat high atop the personified rotund bird of a starship.

Lt. Cmdr. M’kath stood behind Tactical. His massive Klingon frame stood as rigid as carved basalt. His tan-brown warrior’s tail of hair hung behind him as he spoke in a low thunder. “Captain. Our long-range sensors have analyzed the enemy vessels. Three Breen warships, Chel Grett–class.” His dark eyes narrowed as his enormous fingers tapped the tactical readout. “Their primary armaments are disruptor arrays.” His gaze hardened as his nostrils flared. “But their disruptors are tuned with polaric harmonics. The effect is more similar to Dominion or Vaadwaur polaron weaponry than Romulan or Klingon disruptors. Analysis shows they will cut through our shields with terrifying efficiency.”

“On screen,” Raku ordered.

The view flickered and flared as stars were replaced by angular, jagged shapes. Three Breen warships resolved against the tunnel of starlines. Their hulls looked less like vessels and more like skeletal predators. Shards of duranium formed into jagged crescents. Curved spines arced towards needle-sharp prows. Wide, segmented wings jutted from each flank. Each starship’s underside glowed faintly green from active plasma vents. The hull plating caught the verdant glow in broken facets.

The Breen advanced in a shallow wedge formation. The lead vessel guided two flanks that hovered behind it on either side. Their pale glow painted the space between them in a ghostly wash.

“Range closing,” Ruiz murmured at the helm. Her usual bravado was tempered by the magnitude of what loomed ahead. “One minute, Captain.”