In a cozy suburban home, on the outskirts of a utopian metropolis on the Federation planet of Trill, a long awaited reunion takes place.
"Sixth place out of sixty-four isn't bad at all!" an elderly Trill woman announced, weaving around an elaborately decorated dinner table. Anzyl and his senior staff were gathered at his parents' home for a massive family feast. "Oh, Anzy darling, go get the Tealan Port from the cellar, will you, sweetie?"
His mother, unjoined and unimpressed by his rank, ordered the Captain around as if he were still a cadet home for the summer.
"Mrs. Praxas, this casserole is incredible!" Heluna chirped. "I finally see where the Captain got his culinary talent."
His mother laughed, the sound warm and melodic. "Oh, thank you, sweetheart. Anzy does come from a long line of foodies." She sat down, her expression shifting to one of mock offense. "But I'm not Mrs. Praxas. I'm just plain Jane Mrs. Bezas."
Heluna looked confused until Anzyl returned with the bottle. "I'm the only Praxas here, Lieutenant. Bezas was my family name. However, when I was joined, I took the name of the symbiont as my legal surname. And a long held Trill custom, Mother."
"Well, I never cared for it!" Anzyl's father grumbled. The elderly man huffed into his drink. "Our only son to carry the family name, and he goes and gets joined. End of the Bezas line, right then and there."
Sensing the need for a tactical retreat from family politics, Anzyl turned to Tey'un, who had been given a separate table to accommodate his three-meter frame. "Anything we can do about our abysmal acceleration before tomorrow?"
Tey'un shrugged over a plate of Denobulan tubers. "Not unless you know how to rewrite the laws of inertia, Captain. Ten million metric tons is a lot of mass to shove from a dead stop. I'm all ears if you've got a miracle in your pocket."
"It may just be our handicap, Captain," Neil added, his mouth full. "But Mrs. Bezas, what ever did you put in this?!... I think my taste buds are having a religious experience."
The table erupted in laughter, and the mystery of how the Captain became such a renowned chef was finally solved.
—
"Good morning, Alliance!" Domm's voice rang across the KNN frequencies as the sun rose over Trill. "It's an Agility Stage today, Assia. Tell the folks at home what that entails."
"It's a perilous one, Domm!" Assia replied, the screen behind her displaying the jagged, drifting rocks of the Vlugta Asteroid Field. "The race from Trill to Bajor is short, but the dreaded Vlugta belt sits right in the middle. It's a sprint to the perimeter, then impulse only through one of the most densely packed asteroid fields in the galaxy. With no weapons allowed, it's all about piloting and precision. Once clear, it's a high-warp dash to the finish line at Deep Space 9!"
"Shields up and impulse engines hot! This is going to be a nail-biter!"
"There are our ceremonial markers," Assia noted. "The 501st Fighters are moving into position."
---
In high orbit over the earth like world of Trill, 64 space ships from all over the alliance hovered one after the other, in a starting lineup of the ages.
Four Federation fighters screamed over the starting line, flashing their lights in sequence. Red. Red. Yellow. Verdant Green.
Sitting in the sixth starting position, the gargantuan Nexus once again trudged forward like a mountain trying to run. Every single racer surged past them, leaving the dreadnought in a cloud of ionized exhaust.
—
"Ughhh!" Anzyl groaned loudly, physically pulling at his cheeks in frustration as he watched the tactical display. "This is painful!"
Neil grimaced, staring straight ahead at the widening gap. "It is what it is, Captain. Physics doesn't care about our feelings."
—
Finally, once the last of the ships had already jumped, the Nexus lumbered across the threshold and vanished into warp.
"No need for Tey'uns protocol yet, sir," Lusaalli stated. "This jump is... short."
Almost as soon as they entered subspace, they dropped back out. The entrance to the Vlugta Asteroid field loomed ahead—an endless sea of drifting boulders and debris, ranging from pebbles to the size of small moons.
"Red Alert!" Anzyl barked. "Shields up! Impulse to full!"
"Stitch to Bridge," the engineer's voice crackled over the comms. "Tey'un and I knew this stage was coming. We've added a little something to the defensive shield grid. Uh... May I?"
Anzyl looked at Qiln. The Zakdorn referee gave a soft, pragmatic nod. "There are no regulations against shield modifications, Captain." He hesitantly looked at the looming and shifting stellar space debris they were heading directly towards, "And I, for one, would prefer not to be pulverized by a space rock."
"Do your thing, Stitch!" Anzyl said sitting in his chair, getting ready for anything.
"Activating the Nexus Drill now!" Stitch replied, almost giddy in their voice.
—
Outside, the ship's standard cyclonic shielding collapsed, replaced by a focused, high-frequency energy cyclonic cone. The cone began to rotate at an incredible velocity, creating a shimmering, spinning drill-head of pure energy at the bow of the ship.
—
"That's amazing, Stitch!" Anzyl stood up, mesmerized by the display. "We're just going to bore through?"
"Physics is still physics," Stitch replied. "But with this, we can deflect or shatter anything the size of the ship or smaller. I don't suggest hitting a continental-sized rock, but otherwise? We're a ten-million-ton boring drill."
—
At full impulse, the Nexus thundered into the field. While the smaller cruisers had to weave and bank, the Nexus kept a straight, terrifying line. Smaller asteroids didn't just move; they were vaporized or shoved aside by the kinetic force of the energy drill.
—
"Diverting weapons and auxiliary power to shield structural integrity!" Keten shouted as the hull groaned under the constant impacts.
"Keep that drill sharp, Lieutenant!" Anzyl shouted.
—
Unbeknownst to the racers, this was also a hub for Ferengi opportunists. Hidden within the core of a hollowed-out moon, a Ferengi DaiMon watched the race with greedy eyes.
"EM minefield is active, DaiMon!" an officer reported. "The nets are deployed!"
"Excellent! That will thin the herd. I have a lot of latinum riding on the Cooperative to win!"
—
As the lead ships entered the sector, the mines detonated, casting wide webs of electromagnetic energy that crippled the electronics of the nimbler vessels. Like flies captured in a spider's web, several ships were left trapped, their systems sparking and engines failing.
—
"DaiMon!" an officer cried out. "The Nexus is approaching!"
The DaiMon's Ferengi teeth appeared behind his widening grin as he gawked at his screen. "Look at the size of that thing! If we disable it, the salvage rights alone will fetch billions in latinum!"
—
The Nexus thundered toward the trap. The mines lit up. The electromagnetic nets exploded in a cascading web of blue sparks. And then...
The Nexus's drill simply pulverized the mines and swept the energy nets aside like a bull charging thru cobwebs.
—
"What?!" the DaiMon screamed. "Inconceivable! They... they just… right through?!"
—
"Did we hit something?" Anzyl asked as a minor vibration rattled the floor.
Lusaalli shrugged. "We're a giant drill in an asteroid field, Captain. We're hitting everything."
"I can barely see the stars through the energy vortex on the screen," Neil added, squinting at the spinning laser grid of the drill.
—
The Nexus made short work of the dreaded Agility course. It crossed the exit threshold, deactivated the shield drill, and leapt into warp, now substantially in the lead.
Behind them, the asteroid field was a mess of shattered rocks and trapped cruisers—the victims of Ferengi greed and the gaping hole of Nexus' massive wake.
—
Deep Space 9—the legendary frontier station—hung in the void like a star-shaped crown. Suddenly, the "Celestial Temple"—the Bajoran wormhole—flashed open in a burst of blue light as if to welcome the racers.
Around the station, thousands of Bajoran, Cardassian, and Lukari vessels cheered with fireworks and exploding fanfare as the Nexus dropped out of warp, thundered across the finish line at full impulse, taking the first spot.
—
"FIRST PLACE!" Anzyl leaped out of his seat. The bridge erupted in cheers.
"USS Nexus, this is Deep Space 9," the station's comms chimed. "Congratulations, Nexus. Please proceed to Pylon Dock 1. And... welcome to the frontier."
The crew cheered again as the massive ship slipped into the docking ring of the legendary station. Tonight, they weren't just racers; they were the champions of the hour.