‘…but maybe Forrester’s much better off in damage control? She’s been doing it for a few years and likes getting her hands dirty so I don’t really know…’

‘Mm.’

‘But it’s – are you actually listening?’ Thawn couldn’t keep the accusatory tone from her voice, even though her actual feeling was embarrassment as she realised she’d been getting monosyllabic responses from Beckett for some minutes now.

‘What?’ He looked up from where he’d been trying to build a pyre of garlic bread sticks. Even though Gateway Station’s Arcade technically didn’t sleep, shift patterns gave natural ebbs and flows to the hustle and bustle of the centre of life aboard the starbase. They were in one of the ebbs, deep into the evening of Galactic Standard, and the Italian restaurant simply called L’Osteria was quietening down from the steadier buzz of activity of when they’d arrived. They were through two courses of excellent food, well into the second carafe of wine, and should have been discussing dessert. But she’d been discussing work, and Beckett looked like she’d lost him somewhere. He was the one with the sheepish grin, though, straightening up.

‘Forrester,’ he said. ‘Job. Yes.’

Thawn’s shoulders sagged. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble.’

He waved the apology away. ‘You’ve had a lot on your mind. Like a whole department. And I know you do your best thinking out loud.’

She fidgeted with the napkin she’d tossed atop the checked red-and-white tablecloth. ‘I just want to get it right tomorrow.’

‘Scuttlebutt says Perrek was a bit spooked getting thrown across the quadrant and might prefer to work reliably near his family. I think that’ll determine whether Valance keeps you on as CEO – not anything you say.’

‘What rumour?’

‘Hey, I have my sources.’ He leaned forward, giving that smug grin she knew he thought of as charming, but she found charmingly annoying. ‘As for Forrester, have you tried asking her if she wants to make assistant chief or is happier running damage control?’

‘I don’t know if she’ll…’ Thawn’s voice trailed off, and she wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh. She’s not Athaka, is she. She’ll speak her mind and won’t tell me what she thinks I want to hear.’

‘Exactly.’ His smile softened. ‘You know, it never occurred to me that you should take on Engineering. But it seems like it’s perfect.’

‘I like the freedom.’ Again she felt bashful. Rosara Thawn was not particularly experienced in discussing what she wanted. ‘Ops is about running support for everyone else, and that’s fulfilling and I think I’m good at it. But you always have the duty officer breathing down your neck. Engineering is – could be – my space.’

‘Freedom.’ A smile tugged at his lips as he hefted the carafe and went to refill their glasses. ‘Seems like something you’re getting a taste for.’

She heard the edge of his point, felt him brush against the topic, but until he directly engaged, she wasn’t going to. ‘We’ll see what Captain Valance says. But what about you?’

‘Me?’

‘Intelligence. I know you say you like it, and you seem like you’re good at it, but…’ She reached for her wine glass, frowning as she tried to gather her point. He was always so prickly about anything to do with his life path. ‘But you seemed a lot more enthusiastic about finding the Veilweaver’s prison than you did about the strategic condition of the Klingon border.’

‘I mean, one of those was an unending pit of misery and despair… and the other was our burgeoning border war,’ he said wryly, then shook his head. ‘No, just, before we knew what the Veilweaver was, we were hunting through a historical mystery. That’s interesting. That’s the kind of thing I might pick up a book about off-duty. The Klingon situation? That’s all work.’

‘And you want to stay at it?’

He hesitated again. There was something he wasn’t telling her, but she knew better than to keep her telepathic abilities anything short of on complete lockdown in these conversations. At length he said, ‘I’m good at it. There’s a purpose to it. And it is interesting. I can use the same skills I do in a blue shirt, but I apply them to emerging situations. You’ve got to look at the data, then look at the people, then piece it all together.’

‘I’m not trying to tell you what you should do.’ She offered her own softening smile, hearing the creeping tension in his voice, knowing it wasn’t necessarily about her. ‘We’ve just both had a major career shift. In directions we didn’t expect.’

‘And there’s plenty of time to deal with it.’ Beckett swept a hand around the quietening restaurant. Beyond its doors, the hustle and bustle of the Arcade at night continued, Gateway Station’s pulsing population ever seeking distraction and engagement. But here, diners finished up their evening or tucked just into desserts and digestifs as staff saw to these concluding needs and cleared empty tables. They were not about to be turfed out. But with the gentle piano music bouncing off the red brick-effect walls and a good meal long gone, there was no urgency.

‘There’s time,’ Thawn agreed. ‘I think the captain might go spare if Commodore Rourke tries to send us off somewhere without a good week or two of shore leave. Even with the Feserell and border situations.’

‘There are other ships. Swiftsure and Redemption can deal with it.’

‘Exactly.’ She tilted her chin up an inch. ‘And we can come here and have good food and good drink for a little bit.’

‘Even if you decide to use the time to ramble at me about Endeavour’s personnel assignments.’

‘I was – I’ve had a lot on my mind.’ She found herself stumbling over words, abashed and defensive. ‘We usually talk work, though I know this is our first date…’

Beckett made a face. ‘Is it our first date? You don’t count that welcome party the Khalagu held for us?’

‘That was work…’

‘We spent a lot of that night not working,’ he pointed out with a smirk.

That only made her flush more. ‘And I know we’ve… made plans together and spent time together, but that was just going wherever we were – a drink on the Starfall or taking in the sights in Synnef or just meeting up in the Round Table or Safe House. Don’t pretend you didn’t make a big fuss about booking this table and planning a big dinner and making this the first time we properly went out since we decided to do… this.’ She flapped her hands a little as she gestured between them.

‘Ah,’ said Beckett, softening and sobering at the same time, despite the hint of teasing that still lingered. ‘This. Yes. Running away together.’

‘We’re a little past the running away, don’t you think?’ She twisted her fingers together. ‘We came back.’

‘We did. Back to reality. To… this.’ His gesture between them was a calmer mirror of her flap. ‘Whatever this is.’

She heard the silent question, though her heart started to pound at it, and more through anxiety than excitement. It was still the excitement that she leaned into, though, reaching across the table for his hand and offering a slyer smile. ‘What if we wrap up here and remind ourselves?’

Intimacy did not come easily to Rosara Thawn. She told herself it was the transition from Betazoid society to Starfleet, where she’d cut herself off from her foremost way of connecting with people. Even after choosing to throw half her life away, after leaving Adamant Rhade and boarding the Starfall with Nate Beckett, intimacy on those long weeks away together had been slow, faltering. Patient. Real, like leaning over the edge of a cliff she’d for so long never dared even approach, and feeling her breath catch at how far down it was, but not yet falling. Not yet letting go. Or, perhaps, not yet being pulled.

But real enough to lose herself for an evening when they made it back to her quarters on Endeavour, docked at Gateway Station while crew and vessel took time to recover from their burdens. Real enough to banish the wider galaxy for a night, for them to eventually fall asleep still tangled up in each other. Real enough to forget.

She was normally the first to rise, but the squadron command staff had a meeting he needed to prepare briefing packages for, so she was still stirring in the morning when he was already changing into a uniform and shoving a replicated pastry in his mouth.

‘I’ll comm you,’ Beckett said through a mouthful of crumbs as he pulled on his boots. ‘Lunch? Dinner? Something.’

Despite herself, Thawn smiled as she lay back in the comfortable bedsheets. ‘Something. My meeting’s not til 1400.’

‘I’ll try to not piss off Valance first.’ He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, then he was gone.

She was still slow to rise then. At first. At first, she snoozed, then sat up and thought about a cup of tea. Even when she was halfway to the replicator, only in a dressing gown, and saw the wall panel blink with a new message notification, she got her drink before she headed to a console.

And had to set the mug down so she didn’t spill it when she saw the message was from her aunt.

Her aunt, already on her way to Gateway Station. Her aunt, the matriarch of her House, the architect of the arranged marriage she’d fled from, nearly here. Her aunt, wanting to discuss her decisions and her future.

…impossible to resolve this impasse without direct discussion…

…your future, that you have placed in such jeopardy…

…consider what this means for our House…

…eager to hear Adamant’s perspective on this…

And as Rosara Thawn sat and read, and read, and let her tea grow cold, the warmth and burgeoning intimacy of last night was already more light-years away than her aunt now was. Because it was not, after all, just leaving Betazed for Starfleet that had hampered her ability to connect to and be open with other people.

Walking into the Sunny Side Diner ten minutes late meant Valance had to navigate the delicate path between not appearing rude, and not appearing as on the back foot as she felt. She settled for a brisk pace she felt was officious and headed for the booth at the far end of the diner.

‘I know I’m late; apologies.’ It was the best way to be polite without saying, ‘I’m sorry,’ to a journalist. She had not met Olivia Rivera before but recognised her from pictures: the long dark hair, the high cheekbones, the eyebrows that always seemed to add a hint of wryness to any expression.

That wryness remained as Rivera waved a dismissive hand and put the PADD she’d been reading to one side. ‘Oh, that’s not a problem, Captain; it’s given me more time to get intimately acquainted with the reactor fuel this place calls coffee. But let me guess – you’ve got an appointment after this you’ll have to leave for anyway?’

‘I have a briefing with the squadron senior staff,’ Valance said, a little hotly. ‘My work takes precedence over this.’

Rivera’s eyebrows stayed up. ‘I figured this would take more than one meeting, Captain.’

As if from nowhere, one of the diner’s waitstaff appeared at the table and set a steaming mug in front of Valance. ‘I’ll let you read over the menus for food, then I’ll be back!’ he chirped, not waiting for so much as thanks before he sashayed off.

Valance peered suspiciously at the mug. Coffee. Black. ‘This isn’t their filter.’

‘No, I’m thinking of saving some of this for my shuttle,’ mused Rivera, drinking deep from her own mug nevertheless. ‘I took the liberty of ordering you a raktajino ahead of time. I don’t know where they unearthed the beans from, though.’

Valance’s suspicion didn’t fade. ‘A raktajino.’

‘Don’t look at me like that, Captain. It’s literally my job to do my homework on stuff like what people drink before I drag them out for an interview.’

I didn’t think you were being creepy. I thought you were feeding the Klingon a Klingon drink as standard. Unfortunately for Valance’s bitterness, she did like raktajino. A sip confirmed she was indifferent to this raktajino, though.

‘Yeah,’ drawled Rivera, reading her expression. ‘We should have gone to Bean Me Up, huh.’

‘The coffee’s better there, but I’d like actual breakfast instead of a pastry the size of my fist.’ Valance tapped the display button on the table to bring up the projection of the menu, and punched in her order with little reading.

Rivera watched, amusement dancing in her eyes. ‘Do they know what avocado is here?’

‘Midgard isn’t a backwater -’

‘I mean this diner seems to think the stickiness on the table is a source of added nutrients and their idea of vegetables stops at a fried tomato,’ she drawled. ‘I’ve ridden on dropships with Reman commandos during the fall of the Star Empire; I’m not a Core Worlds girl who thinks Betazed is the fringe. I’m reading the diner, not the frontier.’

Valance observed Rivera steadily for a moment. Then swung the holographic menu around to her. ‘Do you want anything?’

Rivera gave a thin smirk. ‘I’m good. I ate first. But I admire this discipline on an athlete’s breakfast. You worked out before coming here?’

They had not formally begun, but Valance knew she was being pried for information – for, at least, more of a read on her as a person, even if it wasn’t material for publication. Although it came with the territory, the thought of even her most minor behaviours being monitored and assessed rankled.

But lying or misdirecting felt petty, so Valance just said, ‘Yes.’

Rivera wasn’t thwarted. ‘Let me guess: martial arts?’

‘Cardio this morning, actually. What do you do to keep up with Reman dropships?’

It was not the smoothest riposte, and still, Rivera gave a wicked grin. ‘I find sitting in them works. Once we land, all those triathlons come in handy.’ She settled back, expression sobering. ‘You’re wondering why you agreed to this.’

‘My commanding officer asked me to,’ Valance said, sipping her raktajino. It was suspiciously good for the Sunny Side Diner. ‘I’m wondering why you want to do this.’

‘Write a profile on an officer on the front line of some of the Federation’s biggest emerging situations? Present and past? Captain, if I’m right, you just briefed the Klingon High Council on the disappearance of Chancellor Martok -’

‘I suppose…’

‘Commanded Endeavour at the Battle of Farpoint and Pathfinder at the Battle of Izar, were in the middle of the Century Storm and the Velorum Sector. And Archanis,’ Rivera pressed on without missing a beat. ‘And now, with the Empire threatening the Republic, not to mention independent worlds along this frontier, you command one of Starfleet’s foremost ships that’ll doubtless be in the middle of the action. You’ve done stuff. You know stuff. But you’re also not shackled to a desk.’

Valance hesitated. ‘When you put it like that…’

‘Yeah, Captain.’ Rivera’s smile threatened to return. ‘You’re impressive.’

Despite herself, Valance flinched. ‘Flattery won’t get you better answers,’ she said, colder than she meant. ‘I’m here because if not me, you’ll target someone else. I won’t let my people be exposed to the judgement of the press.’

Rivera seemed to realise she’d misstepped, though clearly wasn’t sure how. ‘You’ve had bad experiences?’

‘I know that good news doesn’t get readers. Controversy gets readers. Are you going to successfully circulate articles about how wonderful and prepared Starfleet are for a potential new era of Klingon aggression?’

‘Are we wonderful and prepared for new Klingon aggression?’

Valance gave a hollow laugh. ‘I thought we hadn’t started yet.’

‘We haven’t. This meeting is to hammer out what the profile is and isn’t. What access I get. What access I don’t. And any of it can be rescinded if you’re uncomfortable. Believe it or not, Captain, I’m not here to screw you over. And if you think I am, I really can try to find someone else to write this about.’

The thought of Rivera writing a profile about Kharth was only marginally less horrifying than the thought of her writing a profile about Faust. Valance was saved from pivoting too ungracefully by the server returning with the platter of poached eggs on avocado toast, a messy pile he set before her with a flourish as if it were art.

‘Thank you,’ said Valance, courteous to buy herself time. Then she drank her coffee. By the time she’d paused to regard her food, Rivera’s words no longer hung between them so pointedly.

But still, the journalist pressed on. ‘I feel like we’re getting off on the wrong foot.’

You’re impressive. Valance shovelled in a mouthful of food so she didn’t have to reply at once. ‘What do you want out of this profile, Ms Rivera?’

‘There’s a lot of uncertainty in the galaxy.’ Rivera reached into her blazer and pulled out a stylus for her PADD, twirling it in her fingers. ‘People don’t really know what’s going on. Not out here. Romulans were our enemies, now they’re our friends; Klingons were our friends, now they’re maybe our enemies? Being in the dark makes people do stupid things. Like calling off an evacuation of a whole star system because we don’t like the people who’re gonna die very much. I want to write something which shows why we’re here. Why we should care.’

Valance stabbed an egg yolk with her fork and watched it ooze. At length, she said, ‘I don’t get how writing a profile of a Starfleet captain achieves that.’

A shrug. ‘Profiles help people connect better. They read about your life and work, they understand not just what you do – but why.’ Rivera sighed, leaning back. ‘I don’t normally say this because it makes people feel bad, but in this case… you’re not the message, Captain. You’re the medium.’

Valance wasn’t sure what to make of the idea that a concept Rivera normally found offended people should be used to reassure her. Or the fact that it worked. She yet again stalled for time by eating, before she said, ‘You’ve spent some time reporting from difficult places.’

‘I cut my teeth on the Romulan evacuation, and I was on Mars to cover the fleet when… Mars happened.’ A dismissive gesture with the stylus edited out any possible questions about that. Valance guessed Rivera was about her age, putting her in her early twenties, at the start of her career, in one of the greatest crises of the 24th century. ‘Then, yeah. Operation Gatecrasher. The Neutral Zone. I’ve been around.’

Her plate was empty. Valance reached for a napkin to wipe her lips. ‘Endeavour is in port. She needs maintenance and my crew needs shore leave. You don’t interrupt their leave – you don’t chase them for contributions.’

Rivera cocked her head. ‘It’s pretty standard to get some input from the people around the profile subject.’

‘There are people I’ve worked with on Gateway. People I’ve served alongside, people who’ve served under my command.’ Valance hesitated. ‘And not all my staff will be on leave the whole time. I’ll have them reach out to you to offer their time if they want to give it.’

Rivera looked unhappy but nodded. ‘You’ve got more terms.’

‘I’m not promising you access to Endeavour. We do this in meetings like this; interviews, whatever.’

‘It’s best if I get the chance to see you in the field -’

‘I don’t know what Endeavour will be assigned to do next, or when. So I’m not going to promise you can join us on our next mission.’

Rivera’s eyebrows hit her hairline. ‘Did I mention the Reman dropships? I’ve been embedded in worse places than a top-of-the-line Starfleet explorer.’

‘And only two weeks ago, my ship was dispatched with minimal notice and a skeleton crew to travel to Qo’noS and investigate the disappearance of Chancellor Martok. Duty comes at us fast.’

There was a pause. Then Rivera twirled the stylus in her fingers again and said, ‘Can I keep that one as a quote?’

Valance resisted the urge to roll her eyes. ‘Those are my terms. There’ll probably be more.’

‘Wow. You really do not want to make someone else put up with me.’

‘The truth, Ms Rivera, is that I’m not very interesting. You’ll likely end up disappointed. I want to create reasonable expectations.’

Rivera tapped the stylus on the table. Then she smiled, shrugged, and said, ‘Is that an agreement to do this, then?’

‘Maybe against my better judgement… yes.’ Valance pushed her empty plate away. ‘But we can’t start now. I have that staff meeting.’

‘Which I assume I don’t yet have access to.’

‘That isn’t my call. You can negotiate that kind of thing with Commodore Rourke.’

‘Oh, I will. After all, I do think you’re wrong, Captain.’ The smile widened. ‘I think this – and you – are going to be thoroughly interesting.’

Valance grumbled her way through the concluding small talk. She had more time than she’d let on before the meeting, but they’d got through the meat of the discussion and she wanted to be more prepared for anything further. Rivera would send her plans for their proper interviews, with some notice of topics they’d discuss so she could prepare notes and recollections, and hopefully, she could get this done in two or three meetings, before Endeavour even needed to leave port.

But it was, at least, a distraction while they were still at Gateway. While her work was lighter, and the ship needed her less, and she was theoretically supposed to have time off in between her duties to the squadron and double-checking the maintenance work. Time off, which just became time to brood. To reflect on the state of the galaxy. To reflect on her family, and what the state of the galaxy meant for them.

To reflect on the empty quarters she returned to at night, and the woman long gone who’d last told her she was impressive.

She should have been dirtbiking on paths down the Raum river, hurtling at breakneck speed alone in the untouched wilderness of the planet Alfheim below them. Instead, Kharth sat in the squadron briefing room, where only half of those in the meeting were there in the flesh, and tried to not claw out of her own skin.

‘Simply put, Commodore, Feserell needs to make a decision.’ It was only a holographic projection of Captain Faust, hovering ghost-like above the central comms array that overlooked the strategic map everyone else sat around. The projection still sounded as clipped and judgemental as ever as she rounded off her assessment of the Midgard Sector’s newest frontier problem. ‘They cannot retain their independence and expect to enjoy the protection of the Republic or Starfleet.’

The image of Commander Xhakaza shifted. From Kharth’s perspective, he did not directly face the projection of Faust, but the Ranger’s young skipper must have been doing so from wherever he was. ‘And if they don’t, we just let the Empire take them?’

Faust’s image shrugged. ‘This is not the first time the Klingon Empire has expanded its borders by conquest since the signing of the Khitomer Accord. We leave them be, time and time again. It is bloody and it is unpleasant, but we cannot afford to be squeamish simply because it is happening in front of us. We have no political grounds to intercede.’

‘And moral grounds?’ This was Captain Daragon of the Redemption, the normally genteel officer’s hackles up at the concept of Klingon expansion. He was a Kriosian; Kharth couldn’t blame him. ‘The Khitomer Accord’s coming apart at the seams. We shouldn’t let a collapsing treaty bind our hands and stop us from saving lives.’

‘And what of the lives lost by antagonising the Klingons?’ said Faust. ‘Commander Xhakaza’s stunt has already risked conflict breaking out with the House of K’Var…’

‘The House of K’Var already opened hostilities with us,’ Valance interjected. ‘They assaulted Commodore Rourke and attacked Endeavour unprovoked. As a house, they’re more than happy to square up with Starfleet.’

Kharth looked over at Rourke, stood as his officers argued, arms folded across his chest. It had been his wont as a captain to do this; to let his officers hash matters out and then come in once opinions had been aired. That was one thing when debating the operations of a starship. It was another when debating the fate of a planet – a sector.

And was that even why he was silent? Or did the role of the House of K’Var stay his hand?

It was Hale who stepped forward, voice gentle but guarded. ‘We cannot disregard that, by all accounts, the House of K’Var is close to the new Chancellor and looks likely to be elevated to become a Great House in their own right. Retaliation may not be seen by Qo’noS as a matter of a rogue house. It may be seen as an offence against Toral himself.’

‘All the more reason,’ said Faust, ‘for us to not overplay our hand out of sentiment. We cannot fix every crisis in this galaxy.’

‘We should fix the ones in front of us.’ Kharth almost blinked with surprise that she’d spoken. Eyes fell on her, and she stepped forward, angry now rather than self-conscious. ‘All we can do about the Empire conquering a planet on the far side of the quadrant is wring our hands. We can’t even get there. This is a planet of innocent people who’ve been ditched by their government and don’t want to be slaughtered. And we’re saying they have to join our club or die? That’s cowardice.’

Faust’s projection frowned. ‘Mind yourself, Commander. We’re considering the strategic future of the sector, and our ongoing relationship with an Empire. Being emotive doesn’t help.’

‘I won’t mind -’

‘Commander Kharth is right,’ said Valance, both backing her up and saving her from herself. It still earned the captain a surprised stare from Kharth as Valance stepped forward. ‘I won’t pretend we all need reminding of the moral reasons to intercede. But also, the last thing this sector needs is for Starfleet to signal that Romulan lives aren’t worth saving.’

That silenced everyone. At last, Rourke spoke up, his voice a low rumble. ‘We might be jumping the gun, regardless. Feserell are still deliberating. They can become a protectorate, or they can sign up with the Republic. Hopefully, they choose. But they haven’t yet. Commander Xhakaza, pull the Ranger out of Feserell. I want you surveying the borders, checking out other possible Klingon movement.’

Xhakaza frowned. ‘Sir, these people –’

‘Captain Daragon, you’re to take the Redemption to Feserell. Demonstrate why they should want to join our club, instead of withholding help on pain of death. The first day-saving is free.’

Daragon’s projection straightened. ‘With pleasure, sir.’

‘Captain Faust, continue your work with the Republic. We’re going to need to improve their border infrastructure if we’re to have a hope of withstanding whatever the Klingons are bound to throw at us.’

Faust had argued all along, but it said something that she accepted being overruled without so much as a grimace. ‘Commander Cortez and her team are making this considerably easier. We’ll be ready, sir.’

‘Good,’ said Rourke. ‘Meeting adjourned.’

But though the holographic images of the far-off captains of the squadron vanished, Kharth wasn’t done. ‘Sir, what about Teros?’

Rourke looked like he’d rather chew glass than think about Teros. ‘They’ll just have to make do without the Redemption for a little bit. Feserell needs them more. We can’t be everywhere at once.’ But he sighed and rubbed his temples. ‘Shep, I don’t want to have to dispatch the Tempest out there full time. Can we get a logistics team on it? Take over the relief centre construction from the Redemption?’

‘The good news about the cult killing the Rebirth and then blowing themselves up is that the security risk on the planet is way down,’ said Shepherd. ‘I can put Riggs and Far on the case; escort a couple of runabout teams there with Tempest, wave the flag, come back.’

‘Go for it,’ said Rourke.

Kharth hesitated, then said, ‘I want to go with.’

Now Rourke looked like he wanted to snap, but turned to Valance. ‘Captain?’

Valance shook her head. ‘I understand feeling idle, Commander, but shore leave goes for everyone. Even when we have to break things up with meetings. We have the rest of the two weeks confirmed, then I’m sure we’ll be shipping out again. I don’t want us to need to scramble and for you to be off on Teros.’

Kharth bristled. ‘I hate being half on duty.’

‘Then you can go fully off duty,’ said Rourke after exchanging a glance with Valance. Kharth read it plainly enough; he’d chosen to take on her wrath, be the bad guy. Manage her. ‘You’ve been working hard, Commander. You need a break as much as anyone.’

‘To be honest, sir, I think it’s pretty clear I should be in these meetings. Because there’s nobody speaking up for the Romulans otherwise.’

Rourke frowned. ‘That’s not fair, Commander.’

To Kharth’s immense surprise, it was Valance who spoke next. ‘Respectfully, we should consider bringing the Republic more into these meetings.’

Rourke did stop at that, exchanging a glance with Hale. She gave one of her enigmatic smiles at him before she looked at Endeavour’s officers. ‘I happen to agree,’ she said. ‘And we’re waiting on the Republic to propose what cooperation will look like.’

Rourke’s nostrils flared briefly. ‘They want to work with us, but don’t think they can bloody spare a command-level officer to sit on Gateway while they shore up their defences. And I see their point, but they need to send someone to liaise.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Alright, Kharth. You’ll just have to suck up being half on duty.’

It should have annoyed her more, but the initial burst of anger had faded, and being supported by Valance had confused her enough to dull the rest. ‘I was never going to like whatever we did,’ she accepted.

That was it for the meeting. She and Valance had their own staffing discussions about Endeavour to hold, but there was an hour’s gap in their schedules and Shep caught her on the way out.

‘Hey. Sorry about being overruled back there. It would have been fun to have you riding shotgun on Teros.’

Kharth grimaced. ‘Nothing about Teros is fun.’

‘I know.’ Shep winced. ‘I’ll try to take care of things. But what I wanted to suggest was maybe you volunteer your time with the refugee settlement on Alfheim. Secretary Grimm says they’re making good progress but they can always do with more attention. A Starfleet Romulan helping out might reassure some people after… well.’

‘After a stupid murder.’ Kharth glanced at the door. She tried to not wander Gateway out of uniform right now. Kowalski and his staff were keeping tensions from boiling over, and settling the refugees on the surface had eased things up here at least. She couldn’t speak for how they were for the rest of the Midgard colonists, half of them convinced murderous cultists had been settled on their planet, even if the settlements were hundreds of miles away. ‘What kind of thing do they need?’

Shep shrugged. ‘Not sure. Sorry. Airex might know.’

‘Airex?’

‘He’s… aw, shit.’ Shepherd smacked her forehead, realising she’d made the rookie error of blundering into the ancient history of Airex and Kharth. ‘I assumed this wasn’t news. He’s been teaching down there.’

‘Teaching?’ Kharth knew she was repeating things, but couldn’t overcome the surprise. ‘Where?’

‘At… the school? I don’t know. Something to think about, oh my, look at the time, gotta run, we’ll drink when I’m back?’

Some people were delicate in extricating themselves from this situation. Others were Shep. Kharth still couldn’t blame her as the Tempest’s commander beat a hasty retreat, making Kharth one of the last to exit the squadron briefing room and pass through the strategic operations offices on Gateway.

There were ebbs and flows of activity here, Commander Harrian harnessing staff as needed. Now the Strategic Operations chief himself was exiting his office, accompanied by a pair of officers in the pips of a captain and a commander that Kharth didn’t recognise. Harrian looked like he was wrapping up a conversation with the captain, but the commander – a lanky human in his forties – spotted her, nodded a polite extrication from his discussion, and headed over.

‘Terribly forthright of me,’ the commander said, extending a hand as he approached, ‘but are you Commander Kharth, USS Endeavour?’

Suspicious but knowing she had no reason to be rude, Kharth shook the hand. ‘There aren’t a lot of Romulan red-shirted lieutenant commanders around here, I guess. You are…?’

‘Oh! Sorry. Bishop, Elijah Bishop. XO, USS Zephyr. We’re just passing through, twenty four hour quick resupply on our way up the Neutral Zone. Commander Harrian was giving us an update on the state of affairs here.’ Bishop waved a dismissive hand. He looked like the kind of man who gesticulated a lot as he spoke, a thin moustache and slicked back hair giving him an effete air. ‘But you must be busy; I’ll skip to the end. I’m not here to talk shop. Jack Logan – he’s on your ship, yes?’

Kharth tilted her chin up. ‘He’s Chief of Security.’

‘Easy, Kharth.’ Bishop raised his hands. ‘I come in peace. I think.’

‘You think?’

‘It’s just… Jack and I go back a ways. We were on the Oberon together.’

The Oberon; the ship Logan had been assigned to when his shuttle had been lost on an away mission and he’d been presumed dead, only to be found years later assimilated on a dying Borg sphere, where he’d been extracted. Kharth still frowned. ‘That’s… okay.’

‘There’s a couple others from the Oberon with me on the Zephyr. When I saw we were passing Logan’s ship by, I reached out. Suggested we get a drink. But… no reply.’ Bishop winced. ‘I hate to ask you to play go-between, Kharth…’

‘But you want me to play go-between. I’ve no interest in being a peacemaker for some old grievance…’

‘That’s just it; I don’t know what the grievance is. I saw him after he was recovered, after rehab, but then he was off with Intel. Not many skippers would take him on those days, and I was a fresh enough XO that I didn’t have much pull.’ Bishop’s frown deepened. ‘Maybe he resents that, maybe he thinks we… abandoned him. I don’t know. But you’re his shipmate. Zephyr’s only docked a couple days before we move on. If he doesn’t want to see us, fair enough.’

Kharth swallowed. ‘I’ll talk to him,’ she said against her better judgement. ‘But I promise nothing.’

Bishop clasped his hands together. ‘That’s all I ask. We’ll be at the Keystone tomorrow night from about 2100 hours. Old hands from the Oberon. Feel free to join us, or… warn Jack if he’s avoiding.’

‘I promise nothing,’ she repeated. ‘If we don’t speak again, travel safe, Bishop.’

‘Mn.’ Elijah Bishop shook his head, rightfully troubled. ‘I’m not sure the galaxy’s got much safe bits to travel in. We’ll all have to do our best.’

It was mid-afternoon and Valance had already received the first briefing paper from Rivera, outlining the content she wanted to cover in their initial interview. None of it was a surprise – background, upbringing, early career – but it was enough to niggle. They would surely discuss growing up on Cantelle Colony, her childhood split between there and the Empire, her time at the Academy.

There were too many occasions she didn’t want to think about. Too many people. Her parents. Friends. Cassia…

‘She’s late,’ grumped Kharth, setting a half-finished mug of tea on Valance’s desk. Spilt droplets ran down the side, threatening to leave a ring on the table surface.

‘That’s not like her,’ Valance agreed. ‘Something must be up. It’s Thawn. She’d rather die than forget to make us her priority.’

But when the young Betazoid arrived at the ready room two minutes later, they had nothing more than a crisp, polite apology. No further explanation. No frantic air.

‘Thank you for joining us, Lieutenant. At last.’ Valance couldn’t keep the sting from her voice, and it didn’t help that Thawn had no reaction to it.

‘Of course, Captain. You wanted to go over the maintenance review?’ Thawn took a few extra seconds to dig out the right file before she projected it between them.

Kharth pursed her lips. ‘That’s forty hours old, Lieutenant.’

‘Oh – sorry, Commander. This one.’ Thawn at last blinked, at last looked fretful, as she changed the file on the hovering holographic display.

Valance took a moment to read. ‘Where are we at with the coil maintenance? We’re going to need to be ahead of the curve on the cleaning and calibrating of the coils, as we’ll need to slot the stress testing in with Gateway’s schedule.’ She ignored the surprised look Kharth gave her. She’d been a pilot. She knew how systems worked.

And she’d lived with an engineer.

‘I, um, spoke with Hal – Commander Riggs…’ Again Thawn went to her PADD, rifling wildly through notes and messages.

‘Lieutenant, are you okay?’ pressed Kharth.

‘Of course, Commander…’

‘Then can you bring us properly up to speed?’ snapped Valance. ‘Or do we do this later?’

‘No! Right here. Yesterday evening. Confirmation of our coil testing with Gateway Engineering.’ Another message was flicked on the display by Thawn – not that they needed to see the actual exchange.

That did not ease the irritation in Valance’s chest. ‘Lieutenant, I wanted to discuss your time in post in Engineering at this meeting. I’m now a little concerned that it’s perhaps more moving parts than you’ve been accustomed to in Ops.’

‘No, Commander – Captain -’ Thawn flushed as old habits kicked in for her to incorrectly address the ship’s former XO. ‘I’m relishing the opportunity here in Engineering. I like the work.’

‘I want to be sure we’re not pushing you too far, too fast. Endeavour is a sophisticated ship with a large engineering department. This is a responsibility unlike anything you’ve had before.’

Thawn had gone quiet, biting her lip, very clearly cowed. It was the sort of reaction Valance had expected from her the moment she’d been late to the meeting, and it did not mollify her for this to come so far into a chain of screw-ups.

‘It is, Captain,’ she said quietly, not meeting her eye. ‘I want this. I can do this.’

Valance gave a heavy, irritable sigh. ‘I’ll reach out to Riggs. Make sure you get more support on this. We’ll have to see about what we do long-term.’

‘I… yes, Captain.’

‘That’ll be all.’

Valance didn’t watch Thawn go, at once reaching for her next PADD, reviewing her next meeting. She’d almost forgotten Kharth was there until her XO’s voice came, sharp and surprised.

‘What the hell was that?’

‘I know,’ mused Valance, not looking up. ‘It’s completely unlike her to -’

‘I mean you.’ When she looked up, Kharth was staring at her like she’d sprouted a second head. ‘Thawn’s flapping – about the things Thawn doesn’t flap about – and you bite off her head?’

Valance frowned. ‘Since when were you a defender of Thawn?’

‘I’m not, so that should mean something when I say you did a piss-poor job of managing your staff back there. Something’s wrong.’

‘Thawn is always a ticking time bomb for some personal problem or another. She’s probably had the falling out with Beckett.’ It was, in Valance’s head, the falling out, because it would be inevitable and it would be final. She simply couldn’t comprehend how the two of them would prove to be anything but a hormonal fling of desperation.

Kharth was on her feet, jabbing a finger at the door. ‘Thawn was great in the Empire. She probably saved us from getting blown up before the cavalry came. We weren’t worried about her doing the paperwork and project management, we were worried about how she’d be when we needed a technical miracle worker under fire. She delivered.’

‘And now she’s struggling with the paperwork and project management. That’s a problem.’

‘…are you taking any time off?’

Valance hesitated at the change in tone. ‘Some.’

‘Some?’

‘I’ll be on the station. I have to do that profile with the journalist, remember?’

‘Oh, Hale’s damned idea. I could take that off your plate, you know.’

Valance scoffed. ‘Yes, because that’s a good idea.’ The profile was meant to demonstrate Starfleet had their act together on a frontier the wider public needed to care about. It was hard enough selling that with a half-Klingon as the face of affairs. A Romulan of Kharth’s record and temperament wouldn’t go down better.

‘I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died.’ Kharth was scowling now, really scowling. She’d doubtless picked up on all the nuances of the general judgement. ‘But you’re acting out in ways that put me to shame.’

‘I don’t…’

‘Let me and Dav – and Logan, drag him in, too – handle more of the maintenance work and personnel reviews. We’re all still on the station or the surface. You need some time off.’

‘That’s not your choice -’

‘No, but I can make it Rourke’s.’ Kharth picked up a PADD Valance had been reviewing, the one that held the overall schedule for the ship’s downtime. ‘With all due respect, get gone. I’ll split these tasks off. You need to be off-duty for a good eighteen hours.’

Valance gave her a dubious look. ‘I’m not sure this is how the chain of command works, Kharth.’

‘I think this is the exact reason you picked me as your XO, Valance.’

Thawn had whimpered and curled up at the slightest opposition. Pushing back was only making Kharth angrier. And beneath Valance’s sudden short temper was an exhaustion deep enough that she didn’t want to pick a fight. Not a fair one, anyway.

‘Fine,’ she grumbled, standing. ‘I want a fair and equitable sharing of duties on my desk by 0900.’

‘Bite me,’ said Kharth.

That would have to do.

Her quarters – Rourke’s quarters – were dim and empty when she got in. She’d not done much decorating of the larger space she now enjoyed as captain, merely taking everything she’d brought from her XO’s rooms, from the Pathfinder, to these bigger quarters. It left the walls half-decorated, everything unfinished, with only a seasoning of personalisation. It wasn’t hers. It wasn’t home.

Where’s home ever been?

She was an hour into her reading – at her desk, going over more paperwork – before her console chirruped with an incoming message. The screen shone with the flag of the Klingon Empire, and Valance’s throat tightened before she saw the sigil beneath it: the House of A’trok. That replaced the tension with a different kind of knot, one which was not eased when she accepted the connection and saw the face on the screen.

‘Gov’taj.’

‘Karana!’ Her brother looked sat in his quarters on a Klingon warship – but for him, that would serve as much as an office as a sleeping space. ‘I have been trying to catch you.’

‘I’ve been busy.’ Valance rubbed her temples. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘That’s it? That’s the grateful greeting I get?’

‘I’ve thanked you for the save the other week.’ She forced a smile. ‘Do you need me to thank you again?’

‘No, but I thought the warmth might last a little longer.’ He smiled, but she could see the concern dancing in his eyes. ‘I assumed you might want an update. I’ve spoken with our grandfather.’

‘About Toral? And how he’s going to swear fealty to the new Chancellor because he doesn’t have a choice?’

Gov’taj frowned. ‘A’trok continues in his discussions with Koloth. They are not alone in their disapproval of that whelp’s rush to power. Those supporting Toral are loud, and so his hold on power appears absolute. Everyone else… must be quieter.’

‘How… un-Klingon.’

‘Our honour dictates that the Empire cannot fall to petty fighting. We cannot become the warlords of the galaxy. We have built too much since then. Foundations and bonds of blood and stone. That is what matters, far more than anyone’s distaste for a little… politics.’ Gov’taj’s frown remained. ‘You assumed the House would fall in with Toral?’

Valance hesitated. She wasn’t sure what she’d felt. She’d tried to not think about it. ‘I didn’t assume that opposition to him would solidify.’

‘Martok did not remain Chancellor for decades simply for being a war hero. There are many who believed in the sense of honour he gave the empire. Something we struggled with for a long time. Something many do not want to give up. Our grandfather is part of this. We’ve built something, Karana. We want to keep it.’

‘Alright.’ She resisted the urge to rub her eyes. It was all good news. A sign that the Klingon Empire would not fall under the iron grip of a warmonger like Toral. But she could feel Gov’s eyes on her, hopeful, expectant. He was not telling her as an officer, as someone with professional skin in the game. He was telling her like she was a part of it all.

She drew a deep breath. ‘How is it going?’

He talked. He talked about their grandfather, still going strong, taking a stand. He talked about the other Houses, the discussions, the negotiations. Trying to gauge who could be friend or foe. The burgeoning coalition of those who did not ascribe to Toral’s way. He talked a little about their father – there, at least, Gov’taj was more circumspect.

And when it was over, he said, ‘The bonds between our family and the Federation are not about to fall, you know.’

‘That’s good news,’ said Valance. ‘The House of A’trok has always been a good ally.’

‘And even if the worst happened,’ Gov’taj continued more carefully, ‘you are always a member of this House.’

Whether I want it or not.

Valance swallowed. ‘I appreciate you calling, Gov.’

‘I will… stay in touch.’ He knew something was wrong. But they did not know each other well enough for him to pry it out of her. ‘Stay safe.’

‘Qapla’.’

The screen died. Her brother vanished. And Karana Valance leaned back in her desk chair, her workstation in the rooms that were not yet hers, on the ship that was still only becoming hers, and felt the sheer emptiness as sharply as she might had there been nothing beyond her fingertips but the void.

Adamant Rhade wanted to see him, and Beckett was very worried. It could have been a source of reassurance that he’d asked to meet in Endeavour’s anthropology lab, nominally Beckett’s own territory, but that merely added to the confusion, which added to the apprehension. Beckett thus arrived a good twenty minutes early but spent the time doing nothing more than double-checking days-old reports, pacing around, and performing improvised drum solos on the control panels.

Rhade’s arrival, painfully prompt, did not assuage any of this uncertainty. The broad-shouldered officer assumed his usual respectful stance before the bank of panels, hands behind his back, and was soft-spoken as he said, ‘Good day, Lieutenant.’

They had not talked since Thawn ended the engagement and absconded with Beckett onto the runabout Starfall for six weeks. Beckett wasn’t even sure he and Thawn had talked.

Beckett stood, trying not to think too hard about what he should do with his hands. Definitely not resume the drum solos. ‘Commander! Hi. Hey. How’re you doing?’

Smooth.

‘I’m pleased to see Endeavour is back, and back at Gateway for more than two days. You’ve been through some ordeals. Everyone deserves rest. You are well, I trust?’ Rhade was completely inscrutable, painfully polite and collected. But Beckett suspected Rhade’s impeccable manners meant he could be quietly imagining caving his skull in against the edge of the control banks and still speak with the same courtesy.

‘Me? I’m great. Fit as a fiddle. Happy as a clam.’

There was a pause, the two men regarding each other. The silence went on a beat too long, so when it was broken, they both spoke, words tumbling each other.

‘I know this is weird since Rosara left you -’

‘I wanted to discuss this malevolent psionic entity your report named the “Veilweaver” -’

That stopped them both short. Beckett gaped. ‘What? Oh. The Veilweaver? That’s what you organised this meeting about?’

‘Yes,’ said Rhade with, at last, a hint of exasperation. ‘I have read the mission logs about your encounters with, and liberation of, the entity.’

‘I think… won’t Commander Airex be a better person to chat to about this?’

‘Commander Airex,’ said Rhade carefully, ‘had no direct psychic interaction with this thing. You did.’

‘Not as much as…’ Beckett swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. ‘Not as much as Lieutenant Thawn.’

Rhade shifted his feet, looking thoughtful. ‘It seemed very possible, from the report, that her experience was highly distressing. I did not want to assume she wished to discuss it.’

‘I didn’t have a great time being chatted to by some unknowable, inter-dimensional evil,’ said Beckett, sharper than he wanted, unnerved by both Rhade in general and the topic in particular. ‘So I don’t know what you want to pick my brain for.’

‘Because I am quite certain that I also had psychic interaction with the Veilweaver.’

Beckett hesitated, trapped between the broiling guilt and uncertainty of any conversation with Rhade, the gut-wrenching he felt if he thought about the Veilweaver, and the fascination that had marked most of his investigation before the horrors had been revealed. ‘You. Here?’

Rhade nodded. ‘Here. You heard of the murder of the Romulan refugee?’

‘I heard it happened.’ And Beckett listened in bleak fascination to the details of a murder case he had paid very little attention to that had rocked the station while Endeavour returned from their far-flung journey.

And then, when he pointed out the murder was bad but didn’t necessarily lead to the Veilweaver, Rhade explained more. About himself. About what he’d seen. And about Secretary John Grimm of the Midgard Colonial Government. By the end, Beckett had made a pot of tea for them both and sat listening in confounded horror.

Once Rhade was finished, the big Betazoid settled back in the chair, nostrils flaring. He stared at nothing for a moment, then he said, ‘I should have brought Draven. I expect he could have explained some of this better.’

‘I would love to speak to this guy,’ said Beckett. After the pot of tea had been replicated, he’d brought out his journal, scribbling away by hand in ink. ‘But the real point of interest here is your visions, how this thing screwed with you. Everything Grimm said – or everything you heard him say – resonates with what that asshole cultist monk we met was saying. An entity attracted to horrors which it feeds off, then it manipulates people to exacerbate those horrors.’

‘Precisely,’ said Rhade.

Beckett paused. ‘Does this mean that guy responsible for the Midgard Colonial Government’s outreach programmes – pretty much everything where they pretend to give half a shit about something beyond their own interests – is a bloody cultist?’

It was Rhade’s turn to be silent. Then he said, ‘Yes.’

‘Shit.’

‘Yes. I haven’t brought this to anyone yet.’

‘Yeah, you’d sound completely mental.’

‘So I was hoping we could review my experiences and compare them to the information we have on the Veilweaver, and see if it’s possible to evidence my claims. Perhaps bring it to Commodore Rourke.’

‘That’s a lot.’ Beckett ground his teeth together. ‘I guess Rourke won’t assume we’re asking him to immediately arrest this guy. But he can keep an eye on him.’ He drummed his fingers on the edge of his teacup. ‘Has anything happened to you since?’

‘You mean, have I had any more… communication… with the Veilweaver?’ Rhade shook his head. ‘No.’

‘And the dates align,’ said Beckett, ‘with our freeing of the damn thing. Like, you met with Grimm about a day before we did it.’

‘Exactly.’ Rhade hesitated. ‘Is it possible the Veilweaver was manipulating Grimm and others from afar in order to empower itself more? Fuelling its escape plan? And now it’s been liberated it’s done? Gone?’

‘Maybe.’ Again, Beckett drummed his fingers. ‘But the Vorkasi imprisoned this thing because it was interfering. And it seems likely the suffering from the supernova and the Star Empire’s collapse helped juice it enough to stage this escape plan. Sure, things are less awful, but isn’t the entire galaxy still a delicious, all-you-can-eat buffet if you’re an inter-dimensional monster that feeds off emotional turmoil?’ He threw a hand in the air. ‘I mean, we have Kharth on Endeavour, we’re screwed.’

Rhade didn’t look as amused as Beckett felt the joke deserved. ‘You believe it’s premature to assume the Veilweaver has returned from whence it came.’

‘First: excellent use of whence,’ Beckett complimented. ‘Second, no idea. Maybe it’ll stick around, and we reckon it can. Maybe it’s had enough of our dimension. Maybe it’s not done feasting. I guess we keep an eye out for any sign of… anything? And try to nail this Grimm guy for being a murderous cultist.’

‘Agreed.’ Rhade’s broad shoulders eased an iota at this resolution, but still his brow remained knotted. There was a shift about his manner Beckett couldn’t put his finger on until he said, more falteringly, ‘How has Rosara been? That is, since her… encounter. With the Veilweaver.’

‘Oh!’ Beckett swallowed the adrenaline that had spiked at the mention of Thawn. ‘Uh. I mean, you know her. Tough. Not prone to wallowing.’

Rhade watched him a moment, eyes cool, level. ‘It’s very much my hope that in you, she has someone she can confide. Share these burdens. In a way she…’ He hesitated. ‘In a way she often has not.’

In a way she couldn’t with you. ‘She’s been okay,’ Beckett said after a moment. ‘Ed Winters has been checking up on her, too. But she’s mostly been busy. You know what she’s like.’

A grimace. ‘With family, yes.’

‘I meant with the engineering department. What do you mean, family?’

Rhade froze. Always so calm and considered, now his eyes widened an iota. ‘I – forgive me. I’ve overstepped.’

He stood up, but so did Beckett, tea forgotten. ‘No, what’re you saying? What about her family?’

Watching Rhade squirm was like watching a mountain fuss. At length, he grumbled through gritted teeth, ‘Her great-aunt Anatras, the head of the Twelfth House, is coming to Gateway. To see her. I was notified by my family, as we anticipate she will want to speak to me, too.’

‘Oh.’ Fear did a good job of swallowing the confusion and frustration at how this was the first he was hearing about this. ‘This’ll be to talk about the…’

‘Dissolution of our arrangement. Formally. By Betazoid custom. Yes.’ Rhade straightened, gaining confidence, and looked him in the eye. ‘You are an accomplished officer, Lieutenant. A respected member of your crew, decorated for courage, and serve as your ship’s eyes and ears when it comes to the heartbeat of the universe.’

‘Uh. Thanks?’

‘You have nothing to prove to Anatras Thawn,’ Rhade elaborated, softening. ‘Rosara was sure of herself when she decided to end our arrangement. And so, she must be sure of you.’

Beckett winced. ‘I want you to know…’ But his voice caught. He was going to claim there had been nothing between him and Thawn before they’d left together on the Starfall, but that wasn’t really true, even if he ignored their misjudged kiss in the Delta Quadrant. If nothing else, he’d still asked her to leave Rhade and be with him only days before she’d done exactly that.

But Rhade raised a hand, saving him. ‘You owe me nothing. Certainly not an explanation, and certainly not guilt. It was convenient for me to ignore the ways Rosara was unhappy, so I ignored them. But you? There is a… a lightness to her when she is with you. All I could ask of you is that you try to preserve it.’

‘I’ll try.’ Beckett swallowed. ‘Can Anatras tell her what to do?’

‘Anatras can say whatever she wants.’ Rhade paused, pondering. ‘Rosara is no fool. She knows that the choice she made entailed defying the head of her house. Will it be hard to follow through on that? Yes. Which does bring me to one more piece of advice.’

‘Oh?’ Beckett wasn’t even sure he wanted Rhade’s advice, but that felt more about wanting to pretend this issue would go away on its own.

‘This situation between Rosara and her family. Do not be tricked, by yourself or anyone else, into thinking this is about you. This is about Rosara and her choices. That you are that choice is not as important as that you were her choice, not Anatras’s.’

Beckett drew a deep, raking breath. ‘Got it. It’s not about me. I should help out.’ Even if she didn’t tell me.

Rhade must have caught that wavering frustration and shifted his feet. ‘I’ve overstepped; I apologise. You of course don’t need to listen to a word I say. I’m only involved because I expect Anatras will make an attempt to reconcile Rosara and I. It will be for nothing.’

‘She… she’ll what?’

‘I’m assuming. The arrangement was her idea, after all.’ Again, Rhade looked like he’d realised his words weren’t helping. ‘I should go. You’ve been good enough to lend me your time when you should be on leave. Good day, Lieutenant.’

It was not often that Beckett got to see Adamant Rhade run. Not that he physically sprinted, but his deep and polite nod and brisk stride towards the door was as close as might happen in an actual conversation.

Rhade was right about one thing, Beckett thought. He was supposed to be on leave. But there was nothing else about the conversation that suggested this would be as restful as a holiday was meant to be.

Half of Endeavour’s crew had bolted when they’d made it back to Gateway, shore leave snatched from their grasp once already. Anyone remaining was on light duties, liaising with the starbase for the repairs and refits or any personnel changes. That made Alfheim Colony a tempting destination, as well as the recreation centres on the station itself, leaving Endeavour even more like a ghost ship. So Kharth wasn’t surprised to see only one person in the gym, and less surprised to see who it was.

The thuds and rattles of the basketball on the deck, as it hit the board and net, rang across the court enough to muffle her approach, but when the ball bounced back for Logan to catch it, he stopped and said, ‘Hey Kharth,’ without turning.

She scowled. ‘No way you knew it was me.’

He glanced back with a toothy grin. ‘Maybe I’ve said that to five people today. Maybe I called Athaka by your name earlier.’ He bounced the ball on the deck. ‘Nah; I figure you’re one of the only folks to come work out or seek me out.’ His eyes landed on her uniform. ‘Guessing the latter.’

‘I was… checking in.’ Kharth hadn’t been sure what her plan was before she got here. Now he’d wrong-footed her.

‘Oh, right.’ He tossed the ball to bounce to her. ‘Response rates from drills on the road back were good. Security team’s still young but I like Qadir. He’s a good tactician. If we’re gonna -’

‘I met Elijah Bishop.’ Lacking better ideas, she got to the point. Logan stared, and she thudded the ball on the deck twice, not without uncertainty. Ball games were not much her thing. ‘Did you know the Zephyr was in dock?’

Without the ball, he looked oddly lost, now with nothing to do with his hands. ‘I did. Didn’t know Eli was on board.’

‘Apparently with some others from the Oberon.’ Taking pity on him, she tossed the ball back. ‘He said he dropped you a line.’

‘I didn’t…’ Logan turned away, focusing back on the hoop, and took a shot. The ball proved holographic, bouncing wide and dissipating before a fresh one materialised from the air above him so he could catch it with a dissatisfied hiss. ‘Eli’s tried reachin’ out a few times over the years.’

‘Look.’ Kharth stomped over, assuming her gruffest voice. ‘I told him I wouldn’t play go-between. But I guess I’m playing go-between. He says he and some of your old shipmates will be in the Keystone tomorrow. If you don’t want to do anything or talk about it, just say “okay,” and I’ll go.’

‘Okay.’ It sounded reflexive, but Kharth was as good as her word, turning away before Logan gave another frustrated hiss and said, ‘Sorry. Sorry you got dragged in.’

She stopped. ‘I was asked by a guy who seemed worried about you to check in. If it turns out he’s a secret dirtbag and you hate him or something, that’s none of my business and I’m not fighting on his behalf.’

‘I don’t…’ Logan shot again, missed again, and this time let the rematerialising ball bounce once before he caught it. ‘I never read the message. The one Eli sent from the Zephyr. He’s a good guy, there ain’t nothing wrong with him. I just didn’t read it.’

She could have left, Kharth told herself. Instead, she turned back. ‘What’s going on, Logan? Old shipmates want to see you. Did they turn their backs on you after you were rescued from the Borg? Did they fail to save you in the first place? Is it some older grudge? They were shitty to you at the Academy?’

‘I don’t know who’s with Eli.’ Logan had his back to her, beginning to dribble the ball sharply, rhythmically, inside and outside of his feet. ‘Look, I ain’t being cagey ‘cos it’s a dark secret, Kharth. I’m being cagey ‘cos it’s stupid when you say it out loud. You should get it.’

‘Get being stupid?’

‘Get that you can’t go home again.’ He stopped dribbling and turned to her. ‘You ain’t gone back to Teros, and you ain’t gone to the new shelter on the surface. ‘Cos maybe you won’t be welcome or ‘cos you ain’t sure how to deal with it not being the same. Just for me, home means the past.’

Kharth made a frustrated noise. ‘Do you talk to anyone from your life before you were assimilated? Family?’ He shook his head, awkward, but she couldn’t swallow the next burst of indignation. ‘Do you know how many of the people I can’t go home to are dead, Logan? This is not the same.’

He straightened, brow furrowing, and it was like he’d shut a door in her face. ‘Yeah,’ he said after a beat. ‘Guess you’re right.’ He turned away again, moving at pace to dribble, head for the board, shoot. This time he didn’t miss.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t move. There were people on Teros, on Alfheim, she’d known from her old life. People who weren’t dead. People she’d run away from time and again. Kharth set her hands on her hips and said, voice grating, ‘I get it, though. We hate seeing how much we’ve changed, sometimes.’

Logan leapt to catch the ball. His laugh as he landed was hollow, but not insincere. ‘Sometimes?’

‘You know, you were more fun when I met you,’ she said, still sharp. ‘You didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of you before you made Chief of Security. That might be because you’d given up on anyone thinking well of you, but I didn’t need another miserable, self-hating bastard on this ship.’

He looked stricken for a moment, before giving a tight smirk. ‘Was that position taken?’ he asked, tossing her the ball.

‘Positions, you’ll find.’ She bounced the ball, caught it; bounced, caught it.

Logan laughed. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing with that, do you?’

‘I don’t – we didn’t have ball games on Teros. Or joy. Or laughter.’ This time, when she returned the ball, it was more of a throw at than a throw to. ‘Anyway, I’m going down to the shelter on Alfheim. Day after tomorrow.’ This had not been planned, but that was her next gap in a duty shift, and if it took spiting someone else to make her confront her demons, so be it.

He spun the ball in his hands, expression inscrutable for a moment, before he said, ‘Alright. I’ll drop Eli a line. Tomorrow night, you said?’

‘Tomorrow night. Do what you want.’

She turned away, but then he said, ‘D’you want to come?’

Kharth paused, halfway gone already. ‘And crash a reunion?’

‘It’s Starfleet officers having a catch-up. Don’t tell me you don’t have old war stories to fit in.’

‘Some more literal than others.’ She glanced back and thought he hadn’t expected her to as she caught the flash of apprehension, vulnerability in his gaze. She drew a raking breath. ‘The Keystone. Tomorrow night. Sure.’

She left before he could say anything else, like pry about her plans, or her decision to return to Alfheim. Not simply because he was right about homecomings, even to places she’d never been before.

But what the hell was Airex doing down there?

Valance knew she shouldn’t have been surprised that Olivia Rivera wasn’t staying on Gateway. The starbase was huge and comfortable but Starfleet-run, which meant a certain uniform utilitarianism to much of its amenities. Guest quarters were identical and simple and had holographic wall panels instead of exterior windows. So when they’d arranged the first proper interview, Rivera had suggested they meet at her hotel on the surface.

Most of Alfheim’s natural resources prized by its first settlers were nearer the poles, and so cities had sprung up in these colder climes. Only now, in highest summer, was the capital Ymir not frost-bound. Valance could tell as she walked from the transporter station that the streets were not made with the expectation people would be outside for long; walkways were small or covered, airspace traffic was heavy, and the walls of every building, carved from local stone, were thick and insulating. In the distance, higher than the highest towers of Ymir, loomed the mountains.

The colonists of the Midgard system had settled for nothing less than the finest of riches, even if it meant carving out a life in the toughest of lands. However much it was warm and safe within their walls, Valance was beginning to understand the harsh edge to these frontier people that made them so difficult to work with.

Rivera’s hotel was not one of the looming monoliths of granite, but a smaller, wood-fronted building that looked considerably older than most of the ones Valance had walked past. When they met in the lobby of this tidy, old-fashioned, fairly boutique hotel and Valance commented on how she’d struggled to find the place because she’d expected something else, Rivera laughed.

‘I sleep more at hotels than my own home. If I only stayed in the identical, prefab monsters, I’d go spare.’ She led them to the hotel restaurant, which had more the look of a cosy B&B than a luxurious establishment. ‘I try to find places with a bit of character. This was one of the old town halls from the first colony.’

Valance’s eyes scanned the decor, an eclectic mix of old-fashioned, perhaps antique furniture and creature comforts to keep the place comfortable rather than stark or cold. Her gaze dragged over paintings on the wall, and the tiny plaques next to them. ‘Local artists?’

‘And locally run.’ They grabbed a table near bay windows looking out on the street and, poking above rooftops, the distant mountains. ‘Being a bit off the beaten track means I don’t run into the usual sorts of people who stay at the top hotels.’

‘I would have thought a journalist would want that.’

‘Not when I already got my article topic, and a subject who might like a little discretion.’ Rivera didn’t look at the menu, probably knew it by now, and gave Valance a glance over. ‘You ditched the uniform.’

‘Like you say. I wanted discretion.’ The climate had pushed Valance towards a chunky jumper and heavy boots, much cosier than she usually wore for looking presentable out of uniform. ‘Also, I already ate.’

‘Then we’ll do coffee and talking instead of me interrogating you between courses. But I’m getting some table snacks.’ Rivera was not at all fazed, and after they’d settled with hot drinks, got down to business.

‘I do want to know about you,’ the journalist said, PADD out on the table, there to record and for her to take quick notes. ‘But I can’t ignore the context of this profile. The political situation we’re in, the political situations you’ve been in. I want to start there, so I understand how you fit into it.’

Valance gave herself a moment by using the delicate tongs in the middle of the table to dump a sugar lump in her coffee. She usually didn’t do that. ‘I’m not sure I do fit into it.’

‘I’ve had reports that the planet Feserell, a former part of the Romulan Star Empire, has been targeted for conquest by the Klingon Empire, or at least by the House of K’Var,’ said Rivera without missing a beat. ‘But that Starfleet ships have offered them protection, even though we have no treaties with Feserell; they’re not a part of the Republic.’

This had escalated rapidly. ‘Nothing about our agreement for this profile suggested I’d tell you current strategic choices.’

‘Then let’s not talk Feserell specifically. Let’s talk about the Empire. Why do you think the House of K’Var is looking to expand its territory?’

‘You’d have to ask the House of K’Var.’

‘Do you think the statements of Chancellor Toral have impacted that decision?’

‘In asking the question, you’ve told me what you think.’

‘You’re the expert on Klingon politics, though, Captain. Do you think I’m wrong?’

Valance gave a frustrated exhale through the nose. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘Chancellor Toral made his intended foreign policy very clear. I believe he was sincere. Whether he is capable of marshalling the Klingon Empire to enact it, or whether he changes his mind, I can’t speak to. But it has clearly emboldened border Houses.’

‘And Toral highlighted the Republic as a target. But K’Var are targeting an independent world. Why is Starfleet getting involved?’

‘I thought we wouldn’t talk Feserell specifically.’

‘I’m trying to understand what has happened,’ said Rivera. ‘I’m not asking you to tell me what comes next.’

‘We may have no treaty agreements with Feserell,’ said Valance with a hint of frustration. ‘But they asked for help against an external raiding force.’

‘But we do have treaty agreements with the Empire, and the Khitomer Accords recognises the forces of individual houses as also covered by the Accords. By some interpretations, we interfered with the lawful affairs of the Klingon Empire when we had no legal right to.’

‘To be clear, no shots were exchanged between the Ranger and the K’Var vessel.’ Because the K’Var didn’t shoot back.

‘The Klingon Empire has routinely adjusted its borders since the signing of the Khitomer Accords.’ Rivera sounded like she was changing tack, and Valance braced for an onslaught from a new direction. ‘Routinely by force. Does Starfleet only involve themselves when they can see it? Only help people if they have a comms link?’

‘It would be very hard for us to involve ourselves in something we know nothing about.’

‘My point is that I’m not sure the Federation can claim the moral high ground as justification for defending Feserell if we’ve conveniently turned a blind eye to incidents exactly the same as Feserell for the last twenty-five years.’

Valance’s problem, she realised, was that she was answering the actual questions she was being asked. She sighed. ‘We are at a knife-edge with the Empire. That’s true. And our actions are as significant in defining the future of the Khitomer Accords as Chancellor Toral’s. The Federation cannot be everywhere at once, and I disagree that, if we can’t do everything perfectly right, we should do nothing at all. I would never expect a Starfleet captain to turn their back on a planet asking for help if they’re being targeted by a ship that would land troops, steal resources, and take lives. I don’t care who’s flying that ship.’

Rivera listened for a moment. Nodded. ‘And what about the Khitomer Accords?’

‘That treaty set expectations of how both sides should act.’ Valance shook her head. ‘It takes both sides to keep the peace, Ms Rivera. And our peace cannot be won through the blood of innocents.’

Another beat. Rivera leaned back, looking troubled. ‘That final decision hasn’t yet been made by Starfleet Command or the Federation Council. There’s been no determination of our stance in response to Chancellor Toral’s policy, largely because it hasn’t been seriously put into practice yet. That’s a decision that’ll be above your head.’

‘And until I receive orders to the contrary, I will prioritise saving lives.’

‘I appreciate that, Captain. But there are a lot of people in the Federation who’d call that prioritising of Romulan lives over the lives of the Starfleet officers and people who live on the borders – places like here, like Cantelle Colony – who will die if there’s another war with the Klingon Empire.’

Valance shook her head, trying to swallow the bite of frustration. ‘There’s a long way between us giving help to people out here who need it, and triggering a war with the Empire. The Empire is not all of one mind on this possible expansion into the former Star Empire, and they would certainly not be all of one mind about a war with the Federation. We have been allies for a long time. Many Houses have close relationships with us.’

Rivera nodded. ‘Including the House of A’trok?’

Valance reached for her coffee cup, intending to buy time by having a sip, but couldn’t stop herself from snapping, ‘I don’t see what they have to do with the situation around Feserell.’

‘I said I wanted to understand the wider situation,’ said Rivera, but she leaned back, lifting a hand. ‘That wasn’t meant to be a dig at you or your personal life, Captain. I know you’re formally a member of the House, not just related.’

Valance took a moment, and tried to avoid grinding her teeth together. She glanced to the rest of the hotel’s restaurant, with its gentle decor and bay windows, and at the streets of Ymir beyond. Here, for centuries, people had lived on a cold frontier, staring into the implacable and long-silent might of the Romulan Star Empire. Colony life felt like living on the edge of the world, she knew too well. Next to the Neutral Zone must have felt like living next to the abyss. And now, the abyss threatened to pull them in.

She drew a deep breath and looked back to Rivera. ‘The House of A’trok have made it clear they wish to uphold the alliance. I have no torn loyalties, Ms Rivera. On the contrary, my relationship with my grandfather and the House are part of why I believe there will be no war, no great chaos. There’s no real will for it once the excitement of change fades.’

Perhaps she would be proved wrong. For certain, she had no great relationship with her grandfather, her father. Even with Gov, so eager to be close and yet still so far from her and how she lived. The Empire’s place in her heart was complex, to say the least, and Valance was not confident she knew its heart.

But if she was wrong, nobody would go back to her words and condemn her. They wouldn’t care. In the short term, however, this was a chance for reassurance. Certainty. They could do the right thing and not pay a vicious price.

The abyss did not have to pull them in.

‘I know,’ Beckett had said when she’d told him about her aunt. ‘Rhade told me.’

The idea of Beckett and Rhade talking was horrifying in its own right without her family coming into the mix, but all Thawn had been able to say was, in a hushed voice, ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. Assumed I knew, didn’t he?’

She’d had to go looking for him, stopping off at his quarters when normally he’d been so prone to dropping by Main Engineering towards the end of the shift. Now he was already out of uniform, and as she watched he pulled a bag from his wardrobe and began to pack.

‘What are you doing?’ she said.

‘We’re supposed to be on leave, aren’t we? I thought I might hit the surface for a few days. Find one of the island resorts near the equator. No sector politics fuss, no racist locals fuss, just sun and sea.’

Thawn twisted her fingers together. ‘My aunt is coming to the station to finally reckon with my decision to break off the engagement with Adamant, and you’re running off to a beach holiday?’

Beckett paused with a bundled t-shirt in his hand. She resisted the urge to take it off him and fold it before he could shove it in the bag. ‘I thought it might be best if I lay low for a few days.’

‘Oh.’ Thawn blinked. ‘Oh, is this you trying to be helpful?’

He tossed the t-shirt down on the bed in defeat. ‘I dunno,’ he admitted at last. ‘I just figured… if you hadn’t told me…’

‘You were at work! I was at work! I wanted to tell you properly and… I didn’t know Adamant knew. Or that he’d talk to you.’ She bit her lip. ‘At least meet Anatras. She’ll doubtless want to meet you anyway.’ As he hesitated, she took a step forward. ‘You don’t have to be there when she arrives. But… dinner, or something.’

He rubbed the back of his neck, still looking at his half-packed bag. ‘What’s the plan here?’

‘Plan?’

‘She’s clearly coming here to try to put the arrangement back together again.’ He turned to her, gaze guarded. ‘You had to see this coming, right? So what’s the angle?’

A plan rather suggests I thought ahead. But she’d instead spent months kicking this can down the road, using the political instability of the region that demanded her professional attention to delay the issue. ‘I’ll just – I’ll tell her I’m not marrying Adamant. She can’t force me.’

‘Sure,’ said Beckett. ‘But family have other ways.’

‘What do you want? A five-point plan of how I’ll blackmail her?’ She had to swallow down a hint of hysteria. He was right and she knew it, but she didn’t have another way. She was going to have to dig deep and stand her ground, and that kind of stubborn, emotional resilience did not come easily to her.

‘Okay! Okay.’ He raised his hands in a placating but uncertain way and, clearly trying to change the subject, said, ‘How did it go with Valance?’

She’d crumpled in that meeting, and Thawn knew it. Preparing to have that resilience with Anatras had exhausted any professional resolve. Now she grimaced, shaking her head as she looked away. ‘I think the captain wants to get Perrek back, or a properly experienced engineer.’

‘What? That’s bullshit. That’s -’

‘One life plan exploding at a time, Nate,’ she said, sharper because sharpness helped. ‘If you want to go to the surface, that’s fine. I can handle Anatras, or maybe send you a message if it’s good for you to come back…’

Stay, she wanted to say. Stay and help me, stay and remind me why I want to be free, stay and remind me that I’m strong enough. But he looked like he had one foot out the door, and she couldn’t blame him for not trusting her to stand strong. How could she expect him to believe in her when she didn’t believe in herself?

It would have been easier, she thought distantly, if she reached out to him with her mind. Made contact as they only had in the most dire of cases, shown him what she felt – all the fear and self-doubt, but that raging fire deep within, everything she wanted to be free to feel, and how much of it was tied up with him.

Even though she didn’t reach out, he shook his head. ‘I’ll stick around. What’s another day or two?’

But because she didn’t reach out, he didn’t sound very reassured.

It would have been foolish to have him with her at the arrivals lounge on Gateway when Anatras’s transport arrived. But as it was delayed – ten minutes, twenty minutes, a half-hour, the docking wait at the station disrupted by local traffic patterns spooked by the wider border issues – and she paced a hole in the plain, standard-issue rug, she wished she wasn’t alone, at least.

But who could possibly be there? Who would possibly offer any support without demanding something of her? Demanding how she acted, demanding how she felt, rather than letting her be whatever she wanted to be?

If only Rosara Thawn knew what she wanted.

She hadn’t seen her great-aunt in some two years, the last time she’d been to Betazed, and she’d been kindly but firmly reminded of how important the arranged match with Adamant was. But she had not changed much in that time; deeper lines and perhaps an extra inch of height on her bee-hive of a hairstyle. The attendants were different, two beleaguered-looking young Betazoid men who were probably expected to be seen but not heard, not even in thought, one of whom she couldn’t even see the face of for the luggage he was hauling.

So much had changed since that last visit. When she’d returned to Endeavour, she’d met Nate.

Anatras’s eyes landing on her made all doubt, reminiscence, and especially thought of Nate fly from her head, though. Her aunt was a painfully capable telepath, and with their familial connection, if she so much as breathed in a certain way, she would be seen right through.

She clamped down. Controlled every feeling and thought. And walked over to greet her aunt with a warm embrace. ‘Auntie!’

The response was non-verbal, a thought shining with affection and yet holding an undertone of judgement, of chastisement already. Thawn had to pivot with a telepathic response, an inquiry about her travel, and all of the niceties of greeting each other, of small-talk, passed more or less in silence within a matter of moments as, to all onlookers, a young woman embraced a matriarch at the airlock.

‘Now,’ said Anatras out loud as pulled back, ‘let’s talk.’ Thawn’s hand was still between hers, and what looked like an affectionate grasp was in fact an iron grip.

‘You don’t want to get settled in?’

‘The boys can take care of that.’ A dismissive nod sent the two young attendants packing. ‘I didn’t come all this way to enjoy the pleasures of a Federation border station. You clearly need help. Where can we get a tea?’

The Jestral Tea offered by Bean Me Up was inevitably not good enough. Anatras didn’t say as much, but the way she smacked her lips after the first sip made her judgement clear.

‘I would have thought Adamant might be here to meet me, too,’ she said instead. ‘I did say I was so looking forward to seeing him.’

Rhade hadn’t said a thing to her. Thawn didn’t know if this was her ex-fiancé doing her a favour by keeping out of this initial meeting, or if he’d washed his hands of the whole affair and could not be counted on for any support. She had no doubt he would be dragged in sooner or later.

‘I expect he’s very busy,’ she said instead. ‘You know that he’s not on leave, Auntie? He works on Gateway, he’s on duty.’ She didn’t know if he was on duty at that moment, but that was beside the point.

‘Hm. This does concern you both. You know his parents are very worried, too? No matter, I’m sure he’ll stop by. He’s normally such a good boy.’ She added sugar to her tea, which Thawn knew meant she really hated it and was trying to cover the taste with sweetness. ‘But perhaps it’s for the best you and I speak first. What are you doing, Rosara?’

The desire to be glib had to be pushed down. Perhaps Beckett was a bad influence. ‘I’m a grown adult,’ she said, knowing that was perhaps the most petulant way to start. ‘I have the right to determine the most important things about my life, such as who I spend it with.’

Anatras tutted at once. ‘An adult would have reached out to me. Spoken with her family. Do not act as if this arrangement only affects you, child.’

‘It affects me most of all. There was nothing to debate, Auntie. I’m sorry it’s inconveniencing for you and for the family, but this wasn’t something we could negotiate or compromise on.’ It took a monumental amount of control to not sound or feel sardonic there, either.

Her great-aunt tilted her chin up an inch, and Thawn could feel the indignation beginning to broil. ‘I made it very clear last year that we could not afford to let this arrangement with the Seventh House lapse…’

‘And I gave you that year and a half so you could deal with the fallout of Whixby. Surely that’s long enough?’

Anatras stirred her tea with a jab of the spoon, not making eye contact for a moment. ‘What does Adamant have to say about all of this?’

‘He agreed. It was my idea, but he agreed. We weren’t right together, Auntie. We didn’t talk properly, share our feelings, share anything.’

‘Oh, child, when have you ever shared a single feeling?’

It was as if Anatras had slapped her. Not for the accusation itself, because Thawn knew full well she was not one to open up, but the implication, the resentment that came with it. She had done everything her family had ever asked of her, and it had left her married to a man who treated her like an obligation. The notion that things would be different had Thawn merely expressed herself –

‘Who is he?’ Anatras’s next words cut through her indignation. ‘Don’t be ridiculous; you’re young and you didn’t have to marry Adamant right away or keep yourself for him all that time or anything so foolishly archaic. But I can feel your guilt, child. Your heart wandered. Where?’

Clearly her feelings had not been sufficiently contained. ‘That’s not the point -’

‘You can play as you like. And I’m sure you and Adamant could have come to some arrangement. Are you to tell me you’ve found someone you want to spend your life with?’ Anatras was a blink away from a disapproving lip curl.

‘This isn’t about Nate – it’s not just about Nate -’

‘Nate?’

‘He…’ Thawn began to gesticulate as if she could pull the right words from the air. ‘Lieutenant Nathaniel Beckett. Our Chief Intelligence Officer. Recipient of the Star Cross. He’s – he’s Admiral Alexander Beckett’s eldest son.’

Anatras stopped at once. ‘Oh?’

That was the first point Thawn realised she might have misjudged how to handle her aunt and that she should, perhaps, have gone in with a plan after all.

By the time she’d agreed that they should have dinner with Nate and Adamant, she knew she’d definitely misjudged. And that it was far, far too late.

The Keystone was the Arcade bar most favoured by Starfleet officers, especially Gateway’s own crew. Kharth could have guessed this without being told, despite most of the patrons being out of uniform. There was a structure to the establishment, not dissimilar to the lounge on any starship; an inoffensive charm to make the bar nobody’s favourite choice, but nobody’s last – an acceptable compromise.

She’d considered arriving a little late to not interrupt the reunion itself, then reasoned that Logan had asked her to come along for moral support. Against her better judgement, she came early, and found Elijah Bishop in a booth already with a pair of officers around the same age.

‘Kharth – meet Stewart and Trevion.’ Bishop gestured to the human woman and the Rigellian man respectively. ‘Old hands from the Oberon, but if you’re here… I take it Jack’s not coming?’

‘He said he’d be here. He invited me.’ She considered asking if they minded, then decided that if she was here for any reason, it was to support Logan, and slid in next to Stewart.

Rather than protest, Bishop lifted his pint glass and said, ‘The more the merrier.’

After a beat, the gruff Rigellian Trevion leaned forward and said, ‘Endeavour was in the Empire during the transition, then.’

She almost would have preferred to talk Logan’s personal feelings than shop. ‘Transition. Takeover. Sure.’

‘You think there’ll be war?’

‘I didn’t see much more than you’ve seen in reports. I didn’t meet Toral. Somehow, my captain thought that she shouldn’t disembark her Romulan XO,’ Kharth said coolly.

Stewart snickered. ‘We wait and see, Trev. Orders will come.’

Trevion gave her a dour look. ‘Orders to fight our oldest allies?’

Then he flinched, and it sounded like Bishop had kicked him. ‘Orders,’ said Bishop, ‘to protect people who came to us for help.’ He looked at Kharth apologetically. ‘Sorry. Trev’s just very set in his ways.’

Kharth looked levelly at the Rigellian. ‘He’s not the only person to prefer Klingons to Romulans.’

But Trevion had subsided, shoulders drooping. ‘I don’t want to choose between anyone,’ he said, and for a flash, she felt guilty at the accusation. Then through the bustle of Keystone, she heard new footsteps and looked up to see Logan approach the table.

He was casual in a button-down plaid shirt and jeans, a jacket slung over his shoulder, and stopped a few feet away, clearly uncertain, clearly apprehensive. His old shipmates stared back at him for a moment, too.

Then Elijah Bishop rose to his feet, arms outstretched. ‘Jack! How the devil have you been?’

Kharth wondered if it was too much, too transparent. But as Bishop stalked over to Logan and she saw his eyes brighten, she realised it was probably not possible to be too effusive in greeting him.

‘Oh, y’know, Eli,’ Logan drawled through his obvious self-consciousness. ‘Been wandering the galaxy a while.’

‘Then sit your arse down and take a load off.’ Bishop gestured to the booth. ‘It’s been too damn long. First round is on me.’

That both did and didn’t help, Kharth observed as Logan slid in to sit down across from her. He caught her eye nervously, clasping his hands together, but Bishop had headed for the bar, and it was now him with his other two old friends.

Trevion gave a deep nod, seemingly unperturbed by any tension. ‘You look in much better health than I expected.’

‘Uh. Thanks? I work out.’

‘He means,’ sighed Stewart, ‘that you hardly look Borg at all.’ Even Kharth gave her a sharp look, and she rolled her eyes. ‘You get used to translating Trevion. Don’t shoot the messenger.’

Logan unclasped his hands. ‘You’re right. I forgot. No, Trev – I’ve still got implants. Mostly internal, though. A few you can’t see.’ He plucked at his collar briefly. ‘But not that many.’

‘You were much worse when you were in rehabilitation,’ Trevion rumbled thoughtfully.

Logan blinked. ‘You saw me in rehab?’

‘We all came to see you in rehab,’ said Trevion as if this was obvious.

‘Oh. I, uh. I don’t remember much about it.’ But any of his easing out faded as he glanced at Stewart. ‘How’ve you been, Lisa?’

‘I’m pretty sure I told you how I’ve been in my letters, Jack.’ Stewart sipped her cocktail, and Kharth wondered if she could request an emergency beam-out as the tension rippled over her.

Logan sucked his teeth. ‘I did see some. Congrats on the promotion. You deserve the shift to a command track.’

Stewart relaxed an iota. ‘You read them at least. Just didn’t reply.’

‘Yeah, I was…’ His voice trailed off, and Kharth’s throat only eased at the approach of Bishop, clutching three pint glasses with a practiced ease.

‘Here you go. Jack. Kharth.’ Bishop slid in the other side of Logan, trapping him in, and gave an exaggerated, toothy smile. ‘I interrupted, right?’

‘No, your timing’s fine.’ Logan groaned, then grabbed the pint glass and drank deeply. ‘Lisa were just cuttin’ to the chase and callin’ me out.’

‘Oh.’ Bishop gave Stewart the briefest shadowed glare. ‘You don’t have to explain yourself, Jack-’

‘Sure I do. We all go from bein’ thick as thieves for years an’ then I escape the jaws of death an’ drop off the sensor readings?’

Bishop gave a hapless shrug. ‘I understand this must have been… I understand we couldn’t understand. But when we reached out and you didn’t reach back, we didn’t know what to do.’

‘You were assimilated in that time,’ said Trevion. ‘It was believable your personality had changed. That you no longer wished us in your life. Whether through trauma or inevitable alteration by the Collective -’

‘Trev.’ Bishop now glared outright.

‘My nephew was turned on Frontier Day,’ said Stewart abruptly. ‘He explained some of it to me afterwards. The guilt. The shame. The… difficulty in finding his way back to his sense of self. And that was merely hours. We can’t imagine that happening for years.’

‘Look, it ain’t complicated.’ Logan scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘I ain’t the same, and that’s why I stayed away. Not ‘cos I didn’t want you around. But ‘cos I were afraid that if you got to know this new me…’

‘We wouldn’t like him?’ said Bishop with a sad smile. ‘Nobody stays the same forever, Jack.’

‘Except Trev,’ added Stewart. ‘He’s still the same oblivious blockhead.’

‘I exceedingly dislike change,’ Trevion agreed amiably. ‘But only in fundamental issues. Superficial developments are inevitable.’

Logan made a face. ‘Pretty sure being Borg’d is a fundamental thing, Trev.’

Trevion lifted one long, bony finger. ‘Jack. Do you still prefer Blanton’s bourbon, aged for twenty years in a white oak cask?’

‘With just a drop of water,’ Logan said with a hint of an edge. ‘No ice.’

‘Do you still sing bluegrass in the shower off-key?’

Logan hesitated there. ‘I, uh. It ain’t off-key no more.’

Stewart gave him a sharp look. ‘Are you telling me the Borg fixed your singing?’ Beside Logan, Bishop howled with laughter.

‘I… my senses got improved! I got much sharper hearin’ now, not to mention a diaphragm steel!’

‘Point is,’ said Bishop, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, ‘we know you, Jack. Things that matter don’t change.’

‘Him singing better matters to me,’ Stewart drawled.

Bishop waved a dismissive hand before raising his pint. ‘Rat pack forever, right?’

There were cheers. The clinking of glasses. More jibes from Stewart at Logan’s musical talents. And the moment the immediate jubilation died down, Kharth set her drink on the table and slid down the booth bench.

‘I should let you get to it.’

But Logan’s hand came out. He did no more than touch her forearm, but it made her hesitate, and his gaze was keen.

‘No need to run,’ he said with a wince. ‘Promise we’ll stop all this old-timer’s talk. Like I said, you’ve got some good war stories yourself.’ He looked at her drink, barely a third down, and tried a grin. ‘Stick out the rest of the pint?’

She glanced back. Glanced at Logan’s friends, relaxed now, easy with him in their company. Never before, she thought, would she have imagined being jealous of Logan’s sociability. Against all her better judgement, she slid back onto the bench. ‘Fine. The rest of the pint.’

Bishop grinned the widest. ‘You’ve been putting up with Jack while he was at his most glum, it seems. You deserve the drink. Tell us if you’ve got a good story of him being a complete idiot.’

For a moment, the memory of Logan plugging himself into a Borg Queen’s interface flashed across her eyes. Then Kharth tilted her head at Jack Logan, and said, ‘He was being chased down by a whole extremist movement when I met him.’

‘And saved my ass,’ said Logan, tilting his drink to her.

The full tale went down well. Logan wasn’t shy of embellishing at his own expense, and his old friends, comfortable now with where they stood, weren’t shy to tease him for it. Then Stewart pulled out her own decade-old anecdote of Logan nearly getting arrested by their hosts on one of the Oberon’s first contact missions, and the tone was set from there.

There were other stories, some of them from the four old friends’ adventures – but ones of their own, too, and as the night got easier, Bishop retold a few of him, Trevion, and Stewart from the Zephyr, more comfortable now to exist in a space without Logan. It became so relaxed, so easy, that Kharth was halfway through an abridged retelling of rescuing Rourke from a Romulan prison camp – skipping how she’d been in the brig at the start of it – before she realised there’d been a second round, or a third, and she was still here.

The night became hazy from there. Not only from alcohol, but the sheer momentum of Logan and his friends once they got going. Bishop was a quick-witted companion, skilled at shuffling and dealing out anecdotes and conversation topics that helped old friends reunite while keeping her looped in. But at some point the evening became less about reconnecting and more about blowing off steam, steam she didn’t even know she needed to let loose. Drinks at Keystone shifted to dancing at Paradox. Somewhere in that transition Kharth tried to make her excuses, yet ended up in the thumping mass of bodies and flashing shadows and pounding bass.

It was an easier kind of socialising, in its way – this intense, physical engagement, bound by wire to be either superficial or primal in a way that didn’t need words or emotional understanding. It was how she’d lived as a cadet, how she’d lived on her last assignment, only to be chased back into iron walls on starship assignment, in that claustrophobic life of everyone knowing everyone.

It was very late – or, perhaps, not as early as she’d have liked – before the group broke up, and she and Logan staggered back to the docking level, back to Endeavour. Her ears rang with the music, the silence of the station in the middle of the night local time, her ship with everyone disembarked, deafening almost more than club Paradox had been.

‘You don’t got nothing early on today, right?’ Logan drawled, all but collapsed against the turbolift walls once they were in.

‘Nothing at all. That I can’t cancel.’ Kharth scrubbed her face with her hands, equally exhausted now. ‘…that was fun.’

When she pulled her hands down, he was regarding her with a crooked smile. ‘It were, weren’t it? Thank. For bridging that gap.’

He looked lighter, she thought, despite the exhaustion. What demons had tonight chased away? Who was this man without them? Was it really that easy to rekindle a spark of the man he’d been before the shackles of the Borg had fallen upon him?

Could she ever find such a way to reignite?

She gave a lopsided shrug. ‘It was good. I like your friends.’

‘Seemed like you had steam to blow off.’

‘And I didn’t even know it,’ she admitted. ‘But… yeah. It’s been hard. Working as XO. Isa being gone. Times change. Connections change.’

The turbolift doors opened and they staggered out. She had further to go down the crew quarters corridors to get to her rooms, which suited her fine as they stumbled to a halt at his door.

He looked like he might reach for her, seemed unsure of how he’d do that, and gave her more of a pat on the arm in the end. ‘It suited you. Winding down. Breaking open. I dunno. You got a dark around you all the time, seems like.’ Now he gave that crooked, toothy grin of his again. ‘You called me outta the dark, once. Maybe sometime I can return the favour.’

She left him there, all but immediately falling onto her bed once she got to her rooms, all but passing out the second her head hit the pillow. It should have been lonely, in its way, she thought – to see someone rediscover and reconnect with their roots, and know she didn’t have that.

It hadn’t been lonely, though. And Kharth was too fast asleep before she could ponder if that was because the sight of Logan reconnecting was too heartwarming, or if his roots had snaked out to reach her, too.

‘We should have got someone in as cover,’ Beckett grumbled as he adjusted his shirt collar, restless while the turbolift whisked them through the depths of Gateway Station.

‘Cover?’ Thawn resisted the urge to smack his hands away. He needed to stop fidgeting. But she wasn’t his mother.

‘You know, someone who can talk polite business or small-talk to fill the gaps. Take the heat off us a bit. But who also has a reason to be there.’ He seemed to pick up on her irritation, at least, dropping his hands. ‘Like making up an excuse for Elsa or Ed to come along.’

‘My aunt would find that very odd.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I would have invited Commodore Rourke if he were still my direct superior. This now feels a bit beneath him.’

‘He’s got a call with Fourth Fleet Ops tonight anyway, but, yeah. Shame that Valance or Kharth would be the opposite of help here.’

‘Captain Valance would…’ Thawn’s brow knotted. ‘She’s a trained diplomat.’

‘Yeah. A problem solver. We need someone who can play nice. Not a word I’d associate with either our captain or XO. Can’t believe Shepherd came back to Gateway…’

‘Why would she take that effective demotion and stay on Endeavour? Anyway, I don’t think Commander Shepherd would have been much use right now.’ Thawn hated the idea of thinking ill of her superiors. She hated the idea of the irreverent Shep trying to manage her aunt even more.

The turbolift slowed, and Beckett took a deep breath as the doors opened. ‘Right. Play nice. Be charming. Be myself.’

‘Under no circumstances,’ Thawn muttered as she swept into the Arcade, ‘did I tell you to be yourself. I’m not an idiot.’

But he snickered at that, following, and she felt the tension in her chest ease as she headed through the crowd towards the restaurant. Once, their bickering had been like boiling a kettle, tension wracking up until one or both of them went too far and lashed out. Now, it was like a release valve, a playful exchange that reconnected and grounded them.

It was, however, a short-lived relief, because when they reached Arrakain, the most exclusive restaurant on Gateway, and were shown to their table, they found Anatras Thawn had not waited for them alone. There, across from the Betazoid matriarch, calm and collected in a perfectly fitting suit, hair neatly coiffured, sat Adamant Rhade.

But Arrakain was an upscale restaurant, all white linen and minimalist silverware, the soft ambient lighting and sleek, modern decor punctuated with holographic art installations home to the great and the good of this frontier, such as they were. It was not a place for Thawn to swear in surprise at her ex-fiancé’s presence.

To her enormous shock, Beckett stepped into the gap, advancing on Anatras as she, too, stood, and reached to clasp her hand. ‘Madame Anatras Thawn, daughter of the Twelfth House, Chosen of the Four Deities, Spire of the Night Sky – please allow me to introduce myself. Lieutenant Nathaniel Beckett, USS Endeavour.’

He’d done his homework. Thawn might have been more impressed by that, and by him leaping up to give her cover while she reeled at Rhade’s arrival – but she was busy, indeed, reeling. Rhade was on his feet as well, but he gave her a quick, furtive, guilty glance, and even without telepathic communication, she realised what had happened.

You thought I knew you’d be here. That had to have been deliberate from her aunt.

Her aunt, who was gushing over Beckett like a dog who’d brought her slippers. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant! I think you have me at quite the disadvantage; you seem to know plenty of me but I know almost nothing about you!’

‘Then we should definitely get settled in,’ said Beckett with his most transparently charming smile, ‘and get to know each other.’

Thawn wasn’t at all comforted by this display. She knew when he was putting on a face, trying to wrap people around his little finger, and not only did she not trust it as a tactic in general, she could not be reassured by him trying to use it on her aunt. But then, would sincerity work better?

He knew what he was doing enough to pull her chair out for her before sweeping to the seat opposite. ‘It’s a delight to get the excuse to eat at Arrakain. I haven’t had the chance before now.’

They’d considered it for their date the other night, only to decide they wanted somewhere more relaxed. Here, even the soft ambient lighting was feeling more bright, and Thawn’s dress strap felt too tight. Sincerity would not work better here, either.

‘I’ve only heard good things,’ Beckett continued, waving a finger as he held court, ‘about their fusion food. But it does include some experiments with Betazoid cuisine and ingredients native to Alfheim, so I wouldn’t want to assume either quality or authenticity.’

‘My,’ drawled Anatras. ‘We’ll have to find out, then, won’t we?’ The snap of her finger had one of the staff scampering over. ‘A bottle of the sapphire and we’ll of course have the chef’s fusion tasting menu. With, of course, the fish course included.’

‘Of course,’ said Beckett with a smile that made Thawn want to throttle him.

But the waiter was gone, and now Anatras beheld him with a more canny gaze. ‘I warn you, Lieutenant, you may have to do more than know a little food and read a news report to earn my favour.’ She spoke with levity like this was banter, but Thawn could hear the blade on whetstone underneath.

‘Lieutenant Beckett,’ said Rhade quickly, leaning forward, ‘is one of the finest young officers I ever trained.’

‘Trained?’ Anatras arched an eyebrow. ‘Why, he’s not your protege, Adamant?’

‘I served under Commander Rhade on Endeavour’s Hazard Team,’ said Beckett smoothly.

‘That’s, ah, the ship’s elite unit for dangerous away missions,’ Thawn interjected. ‘But Nate is now, as I said, Chief Intelligence Officer.’

The bottle of wine appeared conveniently quickly, glasses poured all around, but they all knew better than to drink before Anatras had had her say. She clutched the stem as she held her drink aloft and said with a supercilious smile, ‘To our houses. May we find a way through this dispute together.’

Beckett frowned a half-inch but drank, Rhade merely bowed his head before sipping, but Thawn didn’t move, glass in hand. ‘Dispute?’

Anatras blinked amiably at her. ‘I’m not sure what else you’d call it, dear.’

‘I thought this was dinner. To meet Nate.’

‘I didn’t come all of this way simply to meet Lieutenant Beckett,’ said Anatras, more kindly than Thawn she feared she might have. ‘Nor did I invite Adamant here. We have to discuss the arrangement. All four of us.’

‘I don’t see what -’

‘What does that entail, Madame Anatras?’ Beckett said quickly, and she didn’t know if she felt gratitude to him for appeasing her or irritation that he was playing her game.

Anatras smiled. ‘An accord has to be reached on what the Twelfth House and Seventh House tell people,’ she explained indulgently. ‘So there are no possible misunderstandings.’

‘So it’s optics,’ said Beckett, giving Thawn a pointed, reassuring look. ‘Ensuring everyone’s as happy as can be with the arrangement and nobody is hurt by it.’

It sounded too easy. There had to be a trap somewhere. But she couldn’t summon words as Rhade shifted his weight, leaning forward.

‘The Seventh House is prepared to initiate the dissolution of the match,’ he said. ‘There need be no disgrace to you or yours, Anatras. It’s only fair.’

Of course, thought Thawn. Because your family don’t live in the sixteenth century.

‘Is it fair?’ said Anatras, cocking her head. ‘Because, forgive me, Adamant, you are so very gallant. It would appear as if my great-niece is the one who disrespected the accord between our houses.’

Beckett looked like he might say more, and under the table, Thawn jabbed him with her toe. ‘Auntie, I’m not sure this is something to dissect -’

‘Your niece has always made it perfectly clear to me what she wanted,’ said Rhade with what Thawn felt was an unduly generous interpretation of events. ‘This is too pleasant an evening to soil with unnecessary details, but if there is a dishonour here, it is mine.’

Beckett this time threw her a brief, confused look, and she gave a near-imperceptible shake of the head. Now was not the time to introduce the Dathan factor.

Anatras paused. Then harrumphed gently. ‘People make mistakes, Adamant. I would be most disappointed if the two of you made an even bigger one by being unable to move forward.’

‘It’s simply not going to happen,’ Thawn said, digging deep to find the words and the surety of them. It did, after all, help to have Rhade here, so prepared to throw himself on his sword. But then, he didn’t have to live with the blade through his gut if this went well. He would, in fact, be pulling himself away from the edges of the Twelfth House forever. ‘Adamant and I discussed matters, made compromises, tried everything we could for over two years, Auntie.’

Anatras’s gaze turned beady as she regarded Rhade. ‘And you are willing take the blame for the arrangement’s failure?’

‘I am. I should.’

The matriarch gave a small, sad smile. ‘That is very good of you. I am sorry, Adamant. We thought this was for the best. For everyone. But so be it.’

It couldn’t be that simple, Thawn thought. It was impossible to just tell Betazoid society this was Rhade’s fault and have them accept that. There would be mutterings of inter-House politics, and besides, escaping without losing face still didn’t get Anatras what she wanted: a close alliance with a powerful family.

And right on cue, Anatras turned to her left. ‘Lieutenant, am I right in understanding that you’re the son of Admiral Alexander Beckett?’

Oh, thought Thawn. Oh no.

Beckett was halfway through a sip of the sapphire wine, and put the glass down quickly. ‘Ah, uh. Yeah. Yes. He’s my father.’

‘I should very much like to meet him at some opportunity.’

‘Oh, we’re… well, if you’re ever in the vicinity of Starbase Bravo. I’m sure he’d make time.’ Beckett didn’t sound convinced.

Anatras’s gaze snapped back to Thawn. ‘Have you met him, dear?’

‘The admiral? I – well, technically yes, he was at the medal ceremony, but we didn’t socialise…’

‘It wasn’t exactly a time to make introductions,’ said Beckett, and Thawn’s heart sank as she heard the cloud of suspicion settle on him.

‘Hm. That will have to change. I expect it’s more likely you’ll be in the same place as him than I,’ Anatras sounded thoughtful, like she was planning out loud. Around them, the appetisers were being brought out, some sort of terrine Thawn hadn’t paid enough attention to the menu to identify. ‘Child, you must make sure you’re introduced, and seen properly,’ she told Thawn.

Beckett made a face. ‘Seen?’

She means it has to be public knowledge that I’m coupled with an admiral’s son.

‘Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself,’ said Anatras, and the brief moment of relief that she might back off evaporated as she looked between them and said, ‘Is this an affair that ought be publicly known?’

‘Uh…’

‘Auntie.’ Thawn tried to not speak through gritted teeth. ‘We cannot simply supplant one arrangement for another…’

‘I’m trying to find out if there is an arrangement,’ Anatras said defensively, before looking at Beckett. ‘I apologise, Lieutenant, if I’ve been too forward.’

‘Oh.’ Beckett’s expression had settled, and, finally, the knot of fear in Thawn’s chest moved away from thoughts of what Anatras might do, what Rhade might do, what she might do tonight. When Beckett leaned back, dropping a shoulder, and said, ‘You know, my father and I don’t actually talk much,’ in an indolent voice, she realised who she should have been worried about.

‘You… don’t?’ Anatras’s voice went a little distant.

‘Yeah – I mean, you know I didn’t even grow up with him, right?’ His voice had dropped, accent shifting back to much more of his Scottish brogue, and a distant part of Thawn wanted to sardonically wonder if he’d been taking lessons from Rourke in how to turn from scion of the heart of the Federation to disaffected rogue.

‘That,’ said Anatras delicately, ‘does not mean our families could not be friends…’

‘Yeah, but – he and me aren’t so much friends.’ Beckett had a swig of his wine. ‘Sorry if that makes resolving this dispute or whatever harder.’

‘Nate.’ Thawn tried to catch his eye. She’d anticipated him perhaps being uncomfortable at Anatras liking him solely for his family connections. She hadn’t expected this.

‘What? I just wanted to be honest. You know, if this is some sort of political breeding programme or…’

Anatras coughed, and Rhade sat bolt upright. ‘You’re here for some time, Anatras, yes?’ the commander said quickly.

‘Some – ah, some days, yes, Adamant…’

‘Then perhaps we ought to simply catch up tonight?’

‘That… might be nice, Adamant.’

Had it not been for Rhade, Thawn wasn’t sure how the evening might have gone. But for all they had been through, he was still pitch-perfect in matters of etiquette, his courtesies too smooth even for the increased grumbling of Nate Beckett or the dogged determination for Anatras Thawn.

It was not a good dinner. Beckett descended into nearly mono-syllabic contributions, and Thawn found herself chipping in with the filling on Rhade’s perfect nothingness in the discussion. Once the final course was finished, they all exchanged polite pleasantries and got up to leave.

When Anatras hugged her goodbye, she felt her aunt’s thoughts press against hers.

We’ll have to talk about this.

They did not discuss where they would go once the dinner was over. The turbolift through the belly of Gateway Station carried them in silence; nor did they speak when they returned to Endeavour. Beckett didn’t say a word, grinding his teeth and glaring at the bulkhead, and Thawn made the executive decision to follow him to his quarters without discussion.

When the doors slid shut behind them, then the discussion started. ‘What in the Great Fire, Nate?’

Or, perhaps, the shouting.

He was tugging at his collar again, loosening it like it might have been choking, and yanked off his tie to throw it across the room. ‘What the hell right back at you!’ he barked. ‘Was that the plan all along?’

‘Was what the plan all along?’

‘Placate your aunt by selling me as a connection to my father!’ Even without shouting, the wave of fury, resentment, and guilt rushing off him was almost enough to stagger her.

‘Hold on.’ Thawn raised a hand. ‘What have I done wrong here? Because from where I’m standing, you came to dinner with my aunt and were then exceptionally rude.’

‘She was rude first! Making it perfectly clear that the only thing she cared about was how I could offer her political connections!’

‘Yes, the entire situation with my family is political!’ Thawn clenched her fists as she took an angry stomp towards him. ‘Have you been paying any attention, Nate?’

That made him pause, the outburst fading. The anger did not. ‘In what world,’ he said after a moment, jabbing a finger, ‘did you think I would be okay with buying your aunt off with access to my father?’

‘It doesn’t have to be access! All she needs is to feel she can swan around and say her niece is involved with an admiral’s son! And maybe we, I don’t know, go to dinner at Vandorin’s or something when we’re next at Bravo – Anatras doesn’t even need to be there!’

‘But you have to be there. We have to have dinner.’

‘You have dinner with your father at Bravo pretty much every time we go there, Nate, I don’t see what the problem is!’

‘That’s me navigating my family on my terms. Not your aunt’s.’

‘Okay, so you won’t do it for her.’ Thawn straightened, and felt her knees wobble with nerves. The anger hadn’t fully dissipated, giving her voice a hiss as she said, ‘Would you do it for me?’

‘What?’

‘I can tell my aunt to fuck off, basically. Technically, that’s a thing I can do. Tell her she has no control over me, no power over my life. Dissolve the arrangement in a way which causes he the maximum embarrassment, just to prove that I’m independent.’

‘I’m not asking you to do that,’ Beckett said in a dismissive rush. ‘Rhade is -’

‘Adamant is giving her a graceful dismount from the arrangement; she still comes out of this with less than she started. I thought we could pack her off for now with the idea that she gets a different political arrangement.’

Beckett shoved his hands in his pockets, the fury fading for more of a sulk. ‘And what,’ he muttered, dropping his gaze, ‘if I weren’t an admiral’s son, you’d…’

‘Don’t be stupid. I didn’t fall – I’m not here because of your connections!’ He caught the stumble of her words, straightened, tilted his head, but she wasn’t done being indignant. ‘I thought you might, maybe, be able to put your neuroses about your father to one side, just for a night!’

It was the wrong choice of words, his expression twisting with indignation. ‘Neuroses…’

‘I just mean – look, I know it’s hard! I know you have a tough relationship! But I’m not asking you to play nice with him and act like everything’s okay just to please my aunt! All I was asking was for you to nod and smile about it through one dinner.’

‘You didn’t ask,’ Beckett pointed out.

‘Perhaps I was afraid you’d get like this!’ She waved a hand at him. ‘Maybe I should have, yes, but is it so wild, Nate, for you to recognise that, again, I can’t just tell my family to bugger off? That maybe you could grit your teeth just a little so I can get through this just a little easier?’

‘That’s not fair,’ he snapped. ‘You let me be ambushed by this, and then you’re saying me being mad about being ambushed is why I wasn’t warned.’

‘Okay, but did you have to accuse my aunt of planning a political breeding programme? What the hell, Nate?’

‘That was – maybe that was a lot. But you’re asking me to -’

‘I am asking you to make this – the hardest thing I’ve ever done, going against everything I was ever raised to do, want, or think – easier.’ Anger was fading fast, and in its wake was a sucking fear. Thawn found herself wringing her fingers together. ‘I’m not asking you to arrange a photo-op between my aunt and your father, I’m not asking for family Federation Days together, I’m not asking you to misrepresent your relationship. But you do see your father. You do spend time with him. You are his son. Could you please try dropping the performative indifference around my aunt?’

His shoulders had slumped, his own anger not faded fully faded. But nor had the guilt risen to the top yet, too much hurt and indignation. ‘Performative indifference?’ he echoed, quieter, now, wounded.

‘I don’t… you know what I mean,’ she pleaded. ‘Please stop jumping to the worst of what I say, what anyone says. This isn’t easy for me. This would be a lot easier if you played along even slightly. I know you don’t want to.’ She bit her lip as he hesitated. ‘And honestly… that door might have closed with my aunt after tonight anyway.’

His expression had fallen. ‘Rosara, I just… I didn’t think I could give her what she wanted.’

‘I can’t give her what she wants, Nate. But I’m trying to compromise. Unlike you, I’d actually like a relationship with my family when this is all over.’ She took a step away. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t warn you, or anything. I didn’t know what my aunt was going to do, I just knew she liked that you’re an admiral’s son. But I think I’m going to have to do this the hard way, now.’

‘The hard way?’

‘The “rip the band-aid, cut all ties if necessary” way.’ Thawn’s jaw tightened. ‘Don’t worry, Nate. It’s not your problem anymore.’

‘Not my -’

‘You get what you want!’ She raised her hands, taking another step to the door. ‘Nobody compromises. You don’t have to make the slightest gesture towards your father. I disappoint my family. It’s just as well I’m doing this for me, Nate, because with this level of give-and-take…’ She gestured between them, frantic and sad and furious. ‘I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here.’

‘Rosara…’

‘Because whatever the hell we are is less important than you not sacrificing an inch about your father.’

His chin tilted up, gaze lost but challenged. Inhaling sharply through his nose, he then said, ‘What are we, then?’

‘I don’t -’

‘You said you’re not doing this for me, or us, you’re doing this for you. So what am I doing this for, Rosara?’

‘Don’t give me that,’ she snapped. ‘You’ve wondered all along if this was just a diversion, a brief affair, and that I’d fold the moment my family called me to heel. Do I look like I’m folding? I’m putting my money where my mouth is, Nate.’

‘That’s funny,’ said Beckett flatly. ‘Because I can’t hear a damn word out of your mouth of what you want from or feel for me.’

She gave a humourless laugh, looking up at the ceiling. ‘The really stupid thing? The person I could count on tonight to have my back and help me through one of the hardest things I’ve ever done?’ She tried to not blink, because her vision was swimming and she didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not now. ‘That was Adamant. Who I’m trying to not spend my life with. Good night, Nate. I’ll let you know when Anatras is gone.’

‘Rosara…’

But this time, she didn’t stop. Because she not only didn’t want to cry in front of him, not here and now. But that was the second time she’d come too close to giving him anything, conceding so much of an inch on her feelings and wants, when he’d made it perfectly clear he wasn’t going to give her anything if he didn’t have to.

The next proper interview with Rivera was at her hotel again, down in the bar. It was morning, with the sun low and fat as it crawled across a sky of frosty, arctic blue. Strong and powerful as it was this time of year, Ymir remained in the icy grip of this latitude of Alfheim.

Conversations started out simple enough with questions about her background. Cantelle Colony wasn’t all too different to Alfheim – smaller, less prestigious, warmer, but still with that colonial sense of independence and self-sufficiency. Valance was accustomed the usual questions, though Rivera made them gentler inferences: what was it like growing up as a half-Klingon in a primarily human colony, why did she move to the Empire in her teenaged years, what led her to Starfleet. Valance felt she gave rote, practiced answers, but Rivera, to her surprise, didn’t push.

‘The Academy, then,’ said Rivera as they moved forward. ‘You were classmates with Cassia Aquila, late captain of the Odysseus.’

Valance paused, then reached for her coffee to give a delayed cover to her hesitation. ‘You did your homework.’

‘It came up when I checked out your commendation for your actions during the Century Storm last year.’

‘Yes,’ said Valance after a beat. ‘Cassia and I were classmates. That’s not a question.’

‘Just classmates? Friends?’

Valance frowned. ‘I don’t see the relevance.’

‘This isn’t an interrogation, Captain, it’s an interview,’ Rivera said first, then sighed. ‘I’m trying to understand people who’ve influenced your career. You mentioned Captain MacCallister, and him supporting your application to the Academy. I’m curious about people who influenced you at the Academy.’

Valance gulped on her coffee, again buying time. ‘Cassia and I were friends. We were close. But we were rivals, too,’ she said, a little more clipped. She had not let herself think much about Aquila since her death. ‘We both wanted to be the best, so we pushed each other as hard as ourselves.’

‘That’s shone through in your early career records,’ Rivera said with a nod. ‘You going above and beyond to succeed, over and over.’

If Valance didn’t want to talk about Aquila, she really didn’t want to talk about the Derby. ‘You’re going to ask me about Plutarch.’

‘I can look at a dozen records that tell me what happened at Plutarch. Including testimony of officers who were there. Some paint you the villain. Some paint you a hero – messy, but a hero.’

‘The truth is usually somewhere in between.’

‘The truth in things like this is usually a matter of perspective. I’m curious on your perspective. Dissidents had abducted officers, including your captain. You took command, just a lieutenant, because of injuries. And went hell-bent-for-leather instead of negotiating.’

Valance shifted her weight. ‘I could have negotiated.’

‘Why didn’t you?’ Rivera spoke slowly, softly, but it still to Valance’s ears sounded like a whip-crack of a demand.

‘I thought… I thought capitulating would embolden the dissidents. Make it harder for Plutarch to deal with them after we left. Get our people back safely, for the price of leaving the place messier than we found it.’ Valance hesitated. ‘And there was pride, too. Of the “you don’t mess with Starfleet,” kind.’

Rivera was silent for a moment. ‘You don’t seem convinced by your own reasons.’

Plutarch ruined my career, banished me to the hinterlands until MacCallister brought me to Endeavour. What am I supposed to think?

‘I made a calculation. I was wrong. People died.’

Rivera glanced at her notes. ‘No black mark was put against your record. No formal reprimand.’

‘People died. Civilians died.’

A beat. Rivera adjusted her posture. ‘What advice would you give your former self, knowing what you do now?’

Valance frowned. ‘You mean, what would I do if I was back -’

‘I mean, if there was an officer in your shoes on that day, and you could advise them. What would you say?’

Valance hesitated. She’d been gently out-manoeuvred, and knew it. It was easy enough to castigate herself for past mistakes. Harder to think what to say if she removed herself from the situation, thought about it in the context of advice to someone else.

She put down her coffee cup carefully. ‘I’d tell them to trust the officers around them. Listen to their assessments. And remember that the priority is the preservation of life. But my mistake wasn’t simply gambling with people’s lives to try to win big, rather than accepting a messier but safer solution and then trying to deal with that consequence. It was that I didn’t listen to my crew.’

‘You were in command.’

‘I was just a lieutenant. And even an admiral needs to surround themselves with people they trust, they can rely on, and then listen to them.’ Valance had grown more emphatic as she spoke, pressing a finger to the white linen tablecloth.

Rivera listened for a moment. Nodded. Then said, ‘Is that what you’ve done on Endeavour? Gathered people you can trust?’

‘I didn’t build this crew,’ Valance said with a hint of dogged loyalty. ‘Matt Rourke built this crew.’

‘I… on the contrary, Captain, a good third of the crew didn’t serve under Matt Rourke. Almost none of your senior staff are the same people in the same posts as those serving under Matt Rourke. You’ve brought in fresh blood from the Pathfinder, elevated officers like Nathaniel Beckett, and given officers like Elsa Lindgren and Saeihr Kharth – a Romulan – much, much more responsibility than they ever had under Rourke. You’ve transformed your senior staff to be your own.’

It had happened so gradually that Valance hadn’t noticed. Pointing out that Rourke had trusted Beckett with acting senior staff roles, or that he’d made Kharth second officer originally, felt a bit empty. In the end, she said, ‘Commander Kharth is a good officer.’

‘The kind of person who’ll give you the advice you need to hear in a tough spot?’

‘All of my senior staff are the kind of people who give me the advice I need to hear in a tough spot,’ Valance said doggedly. Some doors weren’t being opened. The acrimony between her and Kharth didn’t need to make Galaxy Weekly.

Rivera paused. Nodded. ‘I know we skipped ahead a bit, Captain. Jumping from Plutarch to your command. Like I said, I’m trying to get a feel for who’s influenced you. I know Captain MacCallister brought you to the USS Endeavour – the old one – after you served with the Empire. I know you stayed with Captain Rourke for a while when you could have moved to your own command sooner.’

‘What you’re recognising, Ms Rivera,’ said Valance, trying to not be as cold as she felt, ‘is that there’s no such thing as the story of one officer. There’s never one decision-maker, one hero, one single, irreplaceable person.’

‘There is that,’ Rivera said. ‘But you’re still the captain. You’ve been a key figure in multiple recent events. And the people around you change.’

Valance stiffened. ‘That’s life.’

‘My point is that there is a constant thread in this story: you. The people around you may be excellent, but they come in and out. Captain MacCallister led you to the Academy, led you back to Starfleet service on Endeavour, but he’s retired now. Captain Rourke has moved on. And then there’ve been new people.’

Not always. ‘We’re lapsing into philosophy here.’

‘Maybe.’ Rivera watched her a moment, then shrugged. ‘When you’re making decisions now as Endeavour’s captain, who do you rely on?’

Valance quirked an eyebrow. ‘Whoever’s expertise is relevant.’

A flash of frustration finally tugged at her expression. ‘You do know this isn’t a trap or a test, right? That I’m not fishing for fuel for a headline of “Starfleet Captain Has Secret Feud with Senior Staff,” right? Because I write for Galaxy Weekly, not a gossip rag, and if I did write for a gossip rag, you wouldn’t be newsworthy.’

This was all delivered with a sufficiently light tone, a tease to the aggravation, to soften the criticism enough to make Valance snort gently.

‘Alright,’ she said, hands raising in acquiescence. ‘But I want to be clear I hold all of my staff in the highest regard.’

‘Noted,’ Rivera said, scribbling something with her PADD stylus with a flourish so performative Valance suspected it was nonsense.

‘Any captain has to rely on their first officer,’ Valance said after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Commander Kharth and I come from different backgrounds and have different approaches, but that’s invaluable. I trust her to give me her unvarnished opinion, to challenge me when she thinks I’m wrong.’

Rivera was smart enough to read between the lines. ‘How do you keep that from being fraught?’

‘We’ve been through enough together to trust each other. This is what I mean when I talk about the importance of people around us – Captain Rourke trusted her, made her Security Chief, made her second officer, when at that point in my career I might not have. So I had to work closely with someone who wouldn’t have been my choice. I learnt a lot from that. A lot from him, a lot from her.’

‘And what about personally?’ Rivera watched her closely. ‘Is there room for that level of support when you’re a captain?’

‘Obviously, a captain has to have a certain amount of distance from their crew. You can’t be drinking buddies with someone one day and then give them an order they don’t want to hear the next. Professional distance protects both sides.’ Seeing Rivera gearing up to tighten the thumbscrews, Valance gave a light sigh. ‘Commander Airex and I have been friends for a long time.’

‘You can talk to him like you might not talk to Kharth, or someone else?’

‘To an extent. But yes.’

Rivera’s eyes didn’t leave her. At length she said, more gentle than probing, ‘That sounds quite lonely.’

‘Lonely?’

‘You’ve outlined a lot of responsibilities that are on you. And professional support structures. But not much else. Some captains have families, friends elsewhere…’

‘I have friends from across my service,’ said Valance quickly. ‘Including some on Gateway Station, and it’s a benefit of this assignment that we spend so much time at the station.’ It was half a lie. She wasn’t sure who she could have a drink with on Gateway who wouldn’t spend the whole time calling her sir. Dashell?

Rivera looked like she knew this was a prod too far. Not looking convinced, she gave a tight smile. ‘I’m glad. Because it sounds difficult.’

There was no world Valance would discuss a collapsed relationship, the untethering that had come from moving to Pathfinder, the reconnection of returning to Endeavour that felt incomplete.

So all she did was sip her coffee and say, neutrally, ‘I muddle through. Every captain does.’

When the doors to Main Engineering slid open behind her, Thawn’s heart leapt into her throat. ‘I know we’re behind schedule, Captain…’

‘At ease.’

It wasn’t Valance. It was Airex. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a source of comfort; Airex was no less a stickler for high standards. But Airex wasn’t the one who held her future in his hands, and he sounded bemused, not irritated, at her report.

She turned, gaze guarded. ‘Sorry, sir. I thought -’

‘Captain Valance needs to take leave every once in a while.’ Airex wore a faint frown, but he looked at-odds with the situation, not her. ‘So Commander Kharth and I are stepping in more to supervise maintenance operations. I’m not sure why; you’re perfectly capable of giving this ship a complete overhaul, prow to stern.’

‘That’s kind of you to say, sir. But we’ve only seventy-six percent through the coil testing and we should be closer to ninety by now.’

‘Oh no,’ mused Airex. ‘With us so urgently needed to depart Gateway?’

‘I didn’t realise we -’

‘That was sarcasm, Lieutenant.’ Airex raised a soothing hand and joined her at the pool table panel. All around, engineers from Endeavour and Riggs’s team from Gateway buzzed about the section, too busy to linger near their acting chief and especially too busy to eavesdrop. ‘It’s better for us to do this right than fast. Are we doing it right?’

‘That is exactly what’s been such a bother, sir,’ Thawn said with a rush of relief. ‘Endeavour’s been passed from one crisis to another without serious relief since… well, before the Delta Quadrant. Even after Frontier Day, the priority was for personnel recovery, not the ship. I thought I had the time to be more thorough, but then Captain Valance expressed a desire for urgency, and…’

She was flapping. It wasn’t unusual for her to flap at the idea of her superiors being angry with her, but the wave of panic rising in her throat was more acute than this situation warranted. It wasn’t the idea of upsetting just Valance that made her stomach roil, in either anticipation or memory.

‘Lieutenant.’ Airex kept his voice low, level. ‘What do you think is best for the ship?’

Thawn bit her lip. ‘I think barring an immediate emergency, we need this more intensive maintenance protocol.’

Now he dropped his voice to be even softer. ‘Why didn’t you tell the captain this?’

‘I…’

‘If you want to be Chief Engineer,’ Airex continued, gentle, ‘then you have to tell the captain things they don’t want to hear. You have to advocate for the ship. Set the boundaries of the possible and hold your ground.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry.’ His expression sank. ‘Do you want to be Chief Engineer?’

‘I do.’ She hadn’t known until she had it. Until she’d had this domain of her own, a place of chaos and guesswork wrapped around a beating heart of precision, focus.

Airex gave a flicker of a smile. ‘Then you know what you have to do.’

‘It’s not – Captain Valance hasn’t made a final decision yet…’

‘Then I guess, Lieutenant, you have to advocate for the ship.’ He shrugged. ‘And yourself. I’m sure you’re used to being told that you have a tremendous mind. But you also have one of the quietest and yet strongest wills I’ve known.’ At her surprise, his smile widened a hint. ‘There are people I’ve met who, when their backs are against the wall, dig in and persevere through grit and determination. You? When your back’s against the wall, Lieutenant, you don’t stop thinking. Analysing. That’s how you keep winning. It’s a rare talent.’

‘There are times I could do with thinking less,’ Thawn said before she could stop herself.

Airex inclined his head. ‘Those are moments for instincts, yes.’

‘What if you’re not good at trusting your instincts? Knowing them or your feelings?’

He straightened, regarding her thoughtfully. Davir Airex was not oblivious enough to believe they were talking about her professional life any more. After a moment, he hummed, and said, ‘Then you turn to people who know you well to help you.’

‘What if there’s nobody?’

His brow furrowed. ‘People who know you,’ Airex said after a beat, ‘are not always the same as people you’re close to. And at worst, someone who understands your circumstances, even if they don’t understand you, is good enough.’

Thawn’s heart sank. She still nodded. ‘Thank you, sir.’

Airex straightened, troubled but accepting this. ‘I think you should put together a full report for the command staff, Lieutenant, outlining what you think Endeavour needs out of this maintenance cycle. Leave nothing out.’

‘If I left nothing out, sir, we could be here for weeks -’

‘And that’s the next skill a Chief Engineer needs to learn when dealing with their CO: haggling.’

He left, and she could have, should have started work on that report right away. But her head spun too much. She eventually sketched a broad outline, mere bones of a framework that would need meat if she was going to have anything to haggle with, and still found herself stood at the pool table panel in Main Engineering, drumming her fingers.

‘Hey.’ Hours later, Hal Riggs arrived with the next detail of engineers from Gateway, and with his usual easy manner, immediately looked at the PADD she was working on. ‘Oh, that there’s a hell of a shopping list.’

‘It’s… a work in progress. I think there’s more work we need to do here,’ Thawn said distantly.

Riggs read it, honest brow furrowing as he focused. At length he went, ‘Yup. I’d say we do. Good thinking about reviewing the intake manifolds; they’re within the maintenance window but we still ain’t sure what Endeavour flew threw the ways home.’

‘That was my thinking.’ Thawn frowned at him, apprehensive. ‘You think it’s not too much?’ She and Riggs weren’t close, but in the months they’d served on Pathfinder he had proven himself unfailingly honest and unfailingly kind. It was hard to feel bad about anything he had to say.

Riggs read on, then gave a toothy grin. ‘What makes you think attention to detail ain’t part of being a miracle worker?’

‘I’m not sure I’m a miracle worker…’

‘All great engineers are, in the eyes of everyone else, leastways. You just gotta learn to trust yourself, first.’ He hefted the PADD. ‘You clock off. I’ll get checking in with supplies about all this.’

Normally, she might have argued. Normally, her head wouldn’t be spinning so badly in tune with her heart, the pair locked in a tumbling orbit she badly needed to degrade, aligning them properly before something inside her burst.

When she left Engineering, she wasn’t sure where she was going. Nate was out of the question; she knew they’d only end up arguing. Elsa was still on leave. The others were all part of the crowd of young officers she knew more from larger social gatherings than having a specific relationship with them, and a lot were also on leave.

There was nobody who knew her. But there was one person who understood her circumstances; understood them better than anyone, perhaps. Someone with whom she had never had an honest conversation; not really.

Adamant Rhade looked about as surprised to see her at his door as she felt to show up at his quarters on Gateway. He was out of uniform, dressed down and looking like he was about to settle in for the evening, which made it easier; if she’d thought she was intruding, she’d probably not have held her ground.

‘Rosara.’

‘Adamant.’ Thawn’s expression creased. ‘Can we talk? I think it’s time you and me really talked.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Thawn as she walked into Rhade’s quarters, even though the moment she said it, she realised she was sick of apologising. ‘I know you’ve been dragged back into my family even though you were out…’

‘It would have been premature for me to feel like I was “out” before our families said their piece,’ Rhade said delicately, watching her stride over to the wide breakfast table. ‘Would you like some tea?’

‘Please.’ Her gaze swept the rooms, the comfortable suites of a senior officer on a starbase as big as a town. ‘…I can see why you upgraded from Endeavour.’

‘Mm. I’m a bureaucrat here. It is tiresome, sometimes, and I think Commodore Rourke feels the same. The more Gateway is embedded as a hub of intense local politics, larger local operations, the more we are but a command post deep behind the lines. Several steps away from everything meaningful.’ The grumble carried him through his collection of two steaming mugs and jestral tea from the replicator, and he shook his head as he joined her at the tall table and stools by the holographic window. ‘But you didn’t come to listen to me complain about work.’

‘I should be willing to, though.’ Thawn took the tea and wrapped her fingers around the mug, drawing on its comforting warmth. ‘Should have been willing to.’

His frown deepened. ‘If you are feeling anything like guilt about us, Rosara…’

‘Of course I do. Of course I should. You and I weren’t right for each other, refused to talk about it, refused to acknowledge it to ourselves, and dragged ourselves through two years of living together and hurting ourselves and people around us. I can’t stand in judgement of anything you did, Adamant.’

‘I feel my offences are worse…’

Thawn drew a sharp breath. ‘I’m sorry about Dathan,’ she said in a rush. ‘It’s horrible. It’s horrible she lied. It’s horrible she lied and still saved us all, and then died. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through. You must have felt so terribly, terribly guilty.’

He looked away, gaze clouded. ‘I should have known something was wrong.’

‘I mean guilty for wanting something you felt you couldn’t have, and it then turning out to be… poison? A lie? A half-truth? She did save us.’ Her heart sank. She hadn’t come here to discuss Dathan and her betrayal. And yet, that was so much part of everything. ‘I think you saved her so she could save us.’

Rhade’s hands came up to scrub his face. ‘You weren’t wrong to be so angry with me when you found out, though.’

‘Maybe not. But this is part of us not actually talking. Because I wasn’t just hurt about you. I was guilty.’ She sipped tea to delay her next words, feeling her heart thump in her chest. ‘Nate and I didn’t come out of nowhere. We weren’t… there wasn’t an affair… but we knew we had feelings for each other.’

When his expression fell, she saw as much guilt still there as hurt. ‘I didn’t ask because it’s not my business.’

‘We really should be each other’s business, Adamant. Even if we’re not getting married.’ She drummed her fingers on the edge of the mug. ‘We should have been each other’s business more.’

He eyed her, cautious. ‘We were right to separate, Rosara. You were right. I know your aunt is being terribly… pushy…’

‘I don’t have doubts. That’s not what this is about. At the very least…’ Thawn winced. ‘I don’t think you’d take me back now.’

‘No,’ said Rhade delicately, ‘because it wouldn’t be right for either of us.’

‘And I appreciate you falling on your sword, taking the blame for the arrangement dissolving.’

‘It’s the least I can do, and it’s hardly an inconvenience…’

‘It’s not, Adamant.’ She bit her lip. ‘We both know it could cost you a future in the Royal Guard. Isn’t that what you always wanted?’

‘Eventually.’ Rhade shifted his weight. ‘Once, perhaps. I’m not so sure now. After so long out here, I don’t know if I could settle for a life of ceremonial comfort before I’m ready to retire. I thought our people needed their traditions upheld and rebuilt after the war, and they do, but… not as badly as people need us out here.’

‘See?’ she said quietly. ‘That’s exactly the sort of change I should have already known about.’

He watched her for a moment, gaze flickering. Then he leaned forward. ‘I do not know if there is a way through your aunt without some sacrifice. Perhaps you were right to appease her in the short term by highlighting Lieutenant Beckett’s familial connections, but… even if he had agreed the other night, would he continue to agree? Would you want him to?’

‘I think he could have gotten us through these few days. Sent Anatras off happy. But you’re not wrong. It wouldn’t last forever.’

‘Especially as – forgive me if I am being forward – you and Lieutenant Beckett have only just begun a relationship.’

Her gaze dropped to the teacup. ‘You’re right,’ she said softly. ‘Anything could happen. It’s not like we’re about to get married. And then I’d be right back to square one with Anatras.’

Rhade sucked his teeth, apprehensive. ‘After Whixby… after all of this… I am not sure you could ever do enough to make her happy. We were married – then she wanted us wed in the Betazoid custom. Then she would want us to leave Starfleet, live a life of society on Betazed. It is almost as if that future we saw together was not your idyll, or even my idyll – but hers.’

Thawn swallowed, her throat tight. ‘No wonder it felt like a trap,’ she said with an apologetic smile.

‘I had not realised just how much you did not want that until you left me,’ Rhade said, equally apologetic.

‘I don’t think I did, either.’

‘I think it is an unavoidable truth that trying to please your aunt is impossible. Not without sacrificing yourself.’

Thawn sipped the tea as if delaying answering would delay thinking. But the words had to come out. ‘So I have to stand my ground. Regardless of the consequences.’

‘It will be difficult. She may be angry. But regardless of how she reacts, you are family. The disappointment will pass. It’s more important that you stand up for what you want and need.’ He gave a sad smile. ‘You know what that is, now.’

‘Do I?’

‘Have you spoken about this with Beckett?’

‘I… some. He was angry about me bringing his family – his father – into the situation. Which I should have anticipated, but I thought it would work. It was working.’ Thawn looked away at the projected window, jaw tightening. ‘I don’t know if I was unreasonable to ask it of him. It feels like a small thing for him to play along just for a little while, but was it too much?’

‘That sounds,’ said Rhade gently, ‘all the more like you should speak with him properly. Don’t make the same mistakes we did, Rosara.’

‘I’m not, I… How do you do it? Have done it? Proper relationships?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘He gets so uncomfortable at the idea of my telepathy, like I’ll read his secrets, and I get it. But everyone’s been like that since I left for the Academy – since I stopped living on Betazed – and it’s…’ She tried to not wring her fingers together. ‘It’s hard to make these connections the way they do.’ As if the world wanted to prove her point, when she looked up at him, his expression was inscrutable to her. ‘What?’

‘You think it is from leaving Betazed and living among non-telepaths that has made it difficult for you to connect with others?’

‘I… of course. Don’t you find it hard?’

‘I find that non-telepaths are sometimes uncomfortable with the honesty we practice at home,’ mused Rhade. ‘But I have found courtesies and etiquette smooth this over. Rosara, you were never at home with that honesty. Even before the Academy.’

‘What?’

‘I know we were never close, but even if we spent time together when you were a teenager or younger, you… you were always closed off.’ His brow was furrowing. ‘I did not think you struggled with how to communicate with others, Rosara, because you did not know how to be honest with non-telepaths, or how to read them. I looked back after you left with Beckett, and I thought that until now, you had never been honest. Not about your feelings. Not even to yourself.’

She stared. For ten years now, she had made sense of her difficulties, her challenges in navigating the feelings of others, reading them, connecting with them, through the assumption that she was just particularly bad at a transition all Betazoids leaving their people had to go through. The idea it might be something more deep-rooted had never occurred to her. ‘What?’

He straightened, a little trapped, a little wrong-footed. ‘May I venture some thoughts? The last few months have granted me some… perspective.’

‘Please!’

‘You never wanted to be engaged to me.’ Rhade’s expression creased. ‘You were never asked.  Never given a chance to have an opinion on something so fundamental to your life. What happened, when you were younger, if you challenged it?’

‘I…’ She worked her jaw. ‘I was just assured I’d understand it as I got older.’

‘Assured that your apprehensions didn’t matter. Your feelings didn’t matter. That they were an inconvenience. That they’d go away.’ He winced. ‘Knowing of the Twelfth House, I am sure that I was not the only topic treated like that.’

‘Anatras – my parents – only ever wanted what was best for me.’ She’d been on the cusp of telling her aunt to go pound sand, but Rhade’s words stirred an iron defensiveness in her.

‘And best for the household.’ He leaned forward. ‘You know I understand this, Rosara. Duty to something bigger than you, to your family. But duty is reciprocal.’

She put the teacup down harder than she meant. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘That just as you were expected to do what the family needed, the family owed you in kind. Owed you better than shackling you to me. Than telling you your emotions were inconvenient. Rosara, you nearly bound yourself to me regardless of your misery because you could not face what you wanted. It took an experience beyond the bounds of most normal understandings of telepathy for you to accept this wasn’t what you wanted. To accept what you did want.’

‘What I want is…’ Not as important. She thought she’d banished that feeling months ago, and yet it rose in her throat now, choking. She’d left Rhade, and then left him for Beckett, and part of her had maybe hoped all along that she could simply swap them, replace a son of a noble house for the son of an admiral, and Anatras would take the deal.

But this was more. This was the implication that she’d never been able to trust in what she wanted, felt.

‘If I didn’t know what I wanted, I wouldn’t be here,’ she said hotly at last. ‘And I can hardly tell my aunt to waltz into the Great Fire, Adamant. I wanted advice.’

‘You have it,’ he said with a wince. ‘Even if you dislike it.’

‘No, even if your idea is to blame my family.’ She shot to her feet. ‘This was a mistake. Not everything is so black and white as you see it.’

He gave a short, hollow laugh she’d never heard from him before. ‘I assure you, Rosara, that I understand the greys. Your family have -’

‘Perhaps it is time,’ she said, trying to swallow down anger, ‘that we accept your connection with my family has ended. Thank you for the tea, Adamant.’

His expression folded. ‘Rosara, I’m trying to help.’

‘You can’t help with something you don’t understand,’ she said simply, and walked out.

She knew it was harsh, and perhaps premature. But at the least, she was sure of one thing: he could hardly understand her feelings when she understood them so little herself.

Kharth hadn’t known what to expect of the refugee camp on Alfheim. The colonists had been desperate to keep the people of Teros far away, a xenophobic fear only exacerbated by the murder of the refugee Voler. It had taken the promises of Starfleet and Colonial Affairs that the shelter would be temporary and kept far from what the Midgard government deemed ‘civilisation’ before the camp’s establishment could be completed. An island had been chosen far from any settlement, in the end. Far, even, from the Twilight Isles, the string of islands that housed the tropical resorts that were so essential to Alfheim’s tourism.

That pushed the choice of island further north, away from the cosy equator. It was still warm, with reports showing her pictures of golden beaches and woodlands thick with southern pines. She was cynical of those, aware that Colonial Affairs would insist they had done the best anyone could for the people of Teros, when she expected they had been dumped on a rock with nothing but a pile of prefabricated buildings, just as Starfleet did to them fifteen years ago.

She was half right. When the light of the transporter faded, she could smell the pine needles, feel the crunch of undergrowth under her feet, but knew the jacket she’d thrown on was a little too warm. The climate was much more comfortable than she had expected.

So was the shelter.

Sprawled out through woodlands, sheltered against the wind by a hill that sloped towards the beach a kilometre away, those recognisable prefabricated buildings had indeed been deployed. But rather than the battered and worn homes they’d become back on Teros, these were new. Sturdy. More than that, they were well-settled into the trees to create a tidy settlement that almost looked like it belonged in this environment, rather than an industrial interloper.

Here and there walked the Romulans of this new shelter, and they did not look like the defeated ghosts of Teros. There was strength to their backs, purpose to their gaits, a light in their eyes as they went about their existence with renewed comfort. Confidence. Hope.

She had not expected to be able to pass for one of them, well-fed and dressed in fresh clothes, but now she could walk the makeshift streets and disappear among her own kind in a way she hadn’t for a lifetime.

Rather than the bundle of standardised buildings put to whatever use the refugees needed, the shelter’s pre-fabs were clearly each designed for a specific purpose. Housing pods sat on stilts, lined up neatly in these streets leading to a central hub. Here, each pod was shaped and sized to meet its purpose for these work and communal spaces. It made it easier to live, easier to work, easier for this shelter to be a proper settlement and not some hovel where the lost children of Romulus had to crawl under whatever rock they could find to not die.

It made it easier to find the school.

The building only had three classrooms, and Kharth did not go in. She could see through the windows, see classes of young children and gangly youths sat in rows before staff sent down by Colonial Affairs to try to get them an education she’d barely had the chance at back on Teros.

It was in the third classroom she found him. They were adults in there, many of whom she recognised; people who had been very much like her once upon a time, denied the chance to learn and grow by Teros’s back-breaking poverty. Now they sat in a tidy room at rowed desks and listened in rapt attention to Davir Airex, stood at the front before a display as he taught.

She had to keep a tight angle on the window so he didn’t see her, and that made it almost impossible to be sure what he was teaching. Some form of mathematics, or science. But she could read him. Even after all this time, she knew when he was alive with the joy of explaining something, when he shone with enthusiasm as he gestured while he talked.

He could understand the deepest secrets of the cosmos, she knew, and still he could explain it to anyone in a way they would find as entrancing as he did.

‘What’re you doing here?’

Kharth had the most profound sense of deja vu as she spun to see a gangly young woman stood leaning against the walls of the school prefab. The last time they’d seen one another had been in the streets of Teros two years ago, and the look of suspicious accusation had not changed even though she looked better fed, better dressed.

‘Caleste.’ Kharth hesitated. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’

‘Didn’t know you were here.’ She’d been a child when Kharth had left Teros, the tagalong who’d cried when older kids didn’t let her join in with their games. Since then, she’d become entangled with the Rebirth Movement, though it had appeared to be an alliance of convenience rather than belief. Convenience was often enough to set someone on a path they couldn’t move away from.

‘My ship’s assigned to the sector,’ Kharth said. ‘We’re on leave -’

‘I know. I know he’s assigned to it.’ Caleste jerked a thumb at the window to Airex’s classroom. ‘Just didn’t think you’d stick your head in down here.’

Kharth paused again. ‘Neither did I. Glad I did, though. Glad you’re here.’

‘Where else would I be?’

‘Teros? Or wherever the Rebirth went?’

‘Only idiots went. Only idiots stayed,’ Caleste scoffed. ‘Some folks are saying that Teros was a community and the Federation want to destroy it. As if fifteen years of living in a shithole doesn’t make it any less of a shithole.’

‘I can see why people don’t trust the Federation relocating them again, though. Especially beyond the border.’

‘Yeah, well. What’s the worst that happens? We get to not live on Teros before we go somewhere else?’

There were musings about deals with the Republic to eventually find the refugees a home under a Romulan government. Kharth didn’t know what the people of Teros might think about that, but she knew she had no affinity for the Republic, any more than she had an affinity for the Free State. Romulan governments had given her nothing, after all.

She swallowed. ‘It seems nice here.’

Caleste shrugged. She looked more like a teenager in both body and mannerisms, and the surly edge to the gesture couldn’t be ignored. ‘Yeah. Well. Fresh water. Shade. Decent temperatures. Decent replicator rations. Not worrying about supplying the replicator, or who’s gonna show up to bully us around. What’s not to like?’

Kharth nodded at the window to the classroom. ‘An education.’

‘Yeah. He’s alright, you know. Your buddy.’ Caleste peeled herself off the wall and padded over, her accusing air fading. ‘Some of them Colonial Affairs types are condescending as shit. Telling us how useful it’d be to get our Standard Certificate.’

After going through the prep programme for the Academy, Kharth remembered what Federation teachers dealing with poor little refugees were like. Her lips twisted. ‘Not Airex?’

‘Nah. He’s been figuring out what people know and don’t know, figuring out what people might find useful. Then for fun. Just been a few lessons, but it were technical stuff, then some history, then some literature, then some more mathematics.’ Caleste scrubbed her cheek with the back of her hand. ‘Didn’t make me feel like an idiot because I never got taught trig.’

Kharth’s eyes slid back to the window to the classroom, to Davir Airex stood at the head of a crowd of young adults of Teros. People who had missed so many opportunities. People whose lives he’d impacted, hurt back when he was Lerin. It was a simple thing to give back. But the simple things were sometimes what mattered most.

She chewed on the inside of her lip, then said, ‘Is it actually coming together for our people?’

Caleste looked at her dubiously. ‘It’s better than it was. I shouldn’t…’ She hesitated, then kicked at the ground. ‘Thanks.’

Kharth frowned. ‘For what?’

‘We’ve all seen the reports. Part of Colonial Affairs being transparent or whatever was giving us access to the settlement proposals.’ Caleste rolled a shoulder again. ‘Saw your recommendations.’

‘My…’ Kharth swallowed. There had been conversations with Valance, arguments with Rourke, ever since they’d returned to the Midgard Sector. Insistence that they not turn their backs on Teros again, that they rebuild or get them somewhere safer. She’d never felt like her superiors had fobbed her off, but it had never occurred to her that they’d do anything, either – that they could.

But Valance was a captain and a close adviser to Rourke, who was now a flag officer with operational authority in this whole sector. She wasn’t some scrappy lieutenant yelling at the captain of a gunboat. She was the XO who had the ear of people with influence.

Cautiously, Kharth met Caleste’s gaze. ‘You’re not mad at me?’

‘I mean… you came back. Fixed things up a bit. Guess that means you’re not a liar.’

It was a start. Kharth gave a tight smile. ‘I saw a replimat on the way here. Want to get a coffee? Catch up?’

‘Oh. Sure.’ Caleste glanced back at the window. ‘He should be done with his class soon. Do you want to wait?’

Kharth looked through the window to Airex, still in full flow, still shining with an enthusiasm and warmth she hadn’t seen in him since… well, since he’d been Airex. Or at least, she’d not been able to see it before now. Now, when he was bringing it forth to the people who needed it most in the whole galaxy. Her people.

She swallowed. ‘I see him all the time. You can tell me about his lessons, though.’ Her eyes swept around the small town centre in this little settlement, nestled among trees in a comfortable climate safe behind Federation borders, lying in the shadow of the might and protection and support of Gateway Station. ‘It really is okay here?’

‘It’s alright,’ said Caleste with all the cynicism of youth, and they headed across the square.

‘He was bluffing,’ Harkon grumbled as Beckett swept the pile of chips from the middle of the table. ‘You should have called.’

‘And lose more?’ Whitaker clicked his tongue and shook his head. ‘I’d like to keep my dignity remotely intact.’

‘He was bluffing!’

‘And yet,’ mused Beckett, toying with a chip between his fingers, ‘you’ll never know for sure.’

‘Alright, nobody needs to be neither this sour nor this smug,’ said Riggs, rolling his eyes as he gathered the cards scattered across their table nestled near the back of Keystone. ‘Thought this were all for fun?’

‘This is fun.’ Beckett gave a toothy, smug grin. With a large portion of Endeavour’s crew on leave, he’d had to reach out to his friends on the station, people who’d once served on the ship like Whittaker, or whom he’d served with on Pathfinder like Riggs.

‘Shouldn’t you be on a beach about now?’ Harkon complained as Riggs dealt the next hand. ‘You can beam back to an emergency meeting in an instant.’

‘You could do that,’ he pointed out. ‘You live here now. You could own a beach house and beam up to take a duty shift.’

‘That’s not how it works, and I’m not the one on light duties with a hot girlfriend.’ Harkon tilted up her two cards to check them and swore. The problem was, she always did that. ‘So why’re you hanging out with us losers?’

‘Excuse me,’ said Whitaker haughtily. ‘Don’t drag me into your weird manipulations of Nate.’ He paused, then looked sidelong at Beckett. ‘She has a point, though.’

‘Maybe the beach comes later. Are we here to play cards, or what?’

It was not a good few hands of poker, but it got them through the next half hour before Harkon, always a sore loser, groaned for a break.

‘I’ll get the next round in,’ Beckett said as he stood. He liked Harkon but could find her trying when she was in a mood, and he had too little resilience to deflect and joke her back to a brighter path.

There was a solid queue at the bar, Keystone roiling with customers at this time of the evening, which only suited him more. But despite the establishment primarily catering to Starfleet, he hadn’t expected many familiar faces, and he certainly hadn’t expected Jack Logan to sidle up to him at the bar.

‘Commander! Didn’t expect to see you here.’

Logan gave him a lopsided glance full of the silent accusation Beckett bashfully realised he’d earned. ‘Some old friends are aboard and ship off tomorrow. We’re getting one last drink.’

‘Cool,’ said Beckett, scrambling to not offend after inadvertently suggesting the security chief would not be sociable aboard Gateway. He knew Logan was affable and well-liked aboard Endeavour, but that was very different to an ex-Borg having friends wherever he went. ‘It’s just poker night with some of the guys from Pathfinder.’

Logan nodded. Around them, bar staff saw to the orders of the other officers waiting, masters of the dark arts of reading the invisible queue. ‘How’s Lieutenant Thawn?’ he said at last. ‘Maintenance load seems pretty big.’

‘She’s fine,’ Beckett said reflexively. He caught Logan’s eyes narrow a micron and shrugged. ‘Busy. Family in town. But fine.’

‘Fine?’

‘Fine.’

Logan looked up as the bartender reached them. ‘Just a beer for me and my bud here,’ he said casually, then threw an arm over Beckett’s shoulder as the bartender nodded and fetched glasses. ‘We’re having one drink.’

‘I… if you insist.’

‘You’re flapping, kid, and all I did was ask how your girlfriend is.’

Embarrassment about the dinner with Anatras meant Beckett was not, regardless of any other feelings, going to openly discuss what had happened. He knew it would come with a telling-off, knew that his own behaviour would end up overshadowing any point he had, and that the best thing to do was prevaricate and escape.

He sank against the bar with his head in his hands and said, ‘Ugh, I fucked it, Commander.’

‘Reckon when it’s like this,’ mused Logan, ‘you should call me Jack. What happened?’

Beckett swallowed bitterness, and was deeply relieved to find the beers set in front of them. He drank deeply. ‘Long story short? Betazoid matriarch’s in town, she’s pissed her perfect arranged match of Rosara and Commander Rhade’s messed up, and Rosara tried to appease her by selling me off as an admiral’s son.’

Maddeningly, Logan only sipped his beer. Beckett heard the unspoken question, knew the other man was staying silent, and resolved to not rush to fill the gap unprompted.

‘…and I know she has to play politics with her family,’ he snapped a moment later, anyway. ‘But we didn’t even talk about this, and she knows I don’t get on with my father.’

‘Huh,’ said Logan. ‘That’s unfair of her, springing that on you.’

‘Right? I get she has to handle her family, but I didn’t realise that came at the cost of me playing nice with my dad to appease her aunt. Like my opinion about my family doesn’t matter.’

‘And then you have your father and a Betazoid matriarch both thinking they can make decisions about your life,’ said Logan.

‘And I get that the Betazoid matriarch and all that business comes with the territory with Rosara. I get you can’t just pick-and-choose what parts of a person you get to be involved with.’ The righteous indignation flared bright and appealing, and Beckett felt his chest loosen. He hadn’t been so unreasonable after all.

‘But you both have your family issues and dealing with that’s a two-way street?’ offered Logan.

‘Yeah!’

‘Hm.’ Logan sipped his beer. ‘What did she want from you? Hooking them up with connections to each other?’

‘Just for Rosara to be seen with my father at some point,’ Beckett sneered. ‘Make this a political alliance between families or some godawful regency bullshit.’

‘Like, dinner with the three of you at Vandorin’s or something.’

‘Right.’ Beckett swallowed again. It didn’t sound like much when Logan said it out loud. ‘Though I guess my father does usually expect that if I’m ever on SB Bravo. And… eventually I guess that would involve Rosara.’ He could try to check out from the politics of a Betazoid House. He certainly couldn’t check out from the politics of his own family. Not completely.

‘Eventually. But on your terms.’

After a beat, Beckett narrowed his eyes. ‘I know what you’re doing.’

Logan sipped his beer. ‘Y’do?’

‘You’re agreeing with me, so I stop being defensive and realise how I’ve been irrational.’

The bigger man held his gaze steadily. ‘I was just lettin’ you get stuff off your chest without being on the back foot.’

‘Same difference!’

‘Have you been unreasonable?’

Beckett groaned and scrubbed his face with his hand. ‘I guess… Rosara’s going through a lot. That it took a lot for her to walk away from the genetic bonding. That this is a huge cultural deal and the idea it might take small steps to not completely piss off her entire family isn’t… crazy.’ He sighed. ‘And she cares more about pissing off her family than I care about pissing off mine.’

‘I guess there’s two ways to look at things: that your feelings and your situation matter too, and she should be more considerate of that. Or that she’s going through something real rough, and you have to suck it up for a bit and play support even when it hurts.’ Logan had a swig of beer. ‘I can’t tell you which it is.’

Beckett glared at his glass. ‘Shit,’ he said at last. ‘She shouldn’t have to be perfect to get through this. Not with me.’

Logan clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s rough. To step up and be the guy you gotta be. To listen to them better angels, even when it’s hard. Go blow off some steam. Play some cards. Figure out where your head’s at. Then go see her when you’re steady on your feet.’

‘Sure.’ Beckett drained his beer. ‘I should get the next round in for the others anyway.’

‘And Eli is gonna think I got lost if I don’t bring theirs.’

Beckett nodded, waiting as Logan ordered his round and had the tray of drinks set down before him, but only then did realisation sink in. ‘Are you doing okay?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ said Logan amiably, picking up the tray.

‘I mean… the opposite, actually. You seem more chill.’

‘I think I am.’ Logan grinned as he stepped back. ‘It’s a new world, kid, but the work ain’t over. Now we gotta do the hard part of living in it.’

He left, and Beckett sighed, taking a moment before he finally ordered the drinks for his fellows. This had all become a lot deeper than he’d really wanted in a night of escapist poker.

With her ship docked at starbase undergoing basic maintenance, Valance hadn’t expected to be woken in the middle of the night by an emergency summons. She still found herself marching in full uniform into the squadron’s StratOps at approximately 0400 hours, finding Rourke, Hale, and Shepherd all there already. They looked like they’d been equally disturbed, none of them in uniforms or formalwear. Shep was in sweats, yawning and swigging coffee, while Rourke had grabbed jeans and a thick, knitted jumper. Only Hale looked halfway professional in plain slacks and a simple blouse, but it was a far cry from her usual crisp presentation. Valance heard her uniform boots thudding against the deck, noted she was the last to arrive, and felt a little silly.

‘We’ve got a problem,’ said Rourke, voice a low rumble. If he felt she was tardy, he hadn’t shown it. ‘Faust’s reporting a Klingon strike force heading for the Republic border.’

Valance’s mouth was dry. ‘The KDF?’

‘Not sure,’ said Shep, leaning against the central comms and display panel. ‘Cal’s trying to patch us through now. And to Redemption.’

Moments later, the side door slid open for Harrian – in uniform, at least – to come in from the comms room. ‘We’re connected and secure to all three ships,’ he said. He looked tired, hair mussed, but advanced briskly to the control panel. A moment later, three shimmering holographic projections of the commanders of the Swiftsure, Redemption, and Ranger came to life above the panel. Above them, the strategic map for the Midgard Sector winked into existence.

Rourke folded his arms above his chest and looked up. ‘What do we have, Captain Faust?’

The image of Faust reached outside of the projection range and her hand came back with a PADD. ‘Long-range sensors have detected four ships heading for the border. All Klingon. At least one destroyer. Since the first report, we’ve confirmed they’re older models and have transponders for K’Var vessels.’

‘So it’s not the KDF at least,’ mused Shepherd. ‘That’s something.’

Valance looked at Rourke. ‘That sounds like a raiding force. They won’t be here for conquest, they’ll be here to test the Republic’s defences and make off with whatever they can.’

The image of Daragon frowned. ‘It’s a small force. It’s not enough to make me think they’ve given up on Feserell. They still have plenty of ships to threaten here.’

From this end, Faust did not appear to scowl directly at Daragon, instead glaring at nothing. ‘It’s a small force, but I assure you it is more than a match for the Swiftsure. The Republic is stretched thin and K’Var clearly seek to exploit this. We haven’t had the time to build up defensive infrastructure.’

Xhakaza’s projection straightened. ‘Ranger can proceed at top speed to reinforce.’

‘This will take more than an Intrepid.’

Valance drew a sharp breath. ‘I’ll cancel leave for my crew -’

‘Your crew’s scattered to the four winds,’ Rourke said, quiet but quick. ‘And you’re in the midst of essential maintenance. Endeavour would be lucky to be underway within forty-eight hours.’ He looked up at Daragon. ‘Captain, status of Feserell?’

‘Negotiations are ongoing, but they’re welcoming our presence so far,’ said Daragon. ‘There is a growing faction interested in the idea of becoming a protectorate.’

‘A growing faction who are interested,’ drawled Faust. ‘My, they’ll be part of the family in no time.’

‘Captain –’

‘Commodore.’ Faust cut over Daragon for her projection to look at Rourke. ‘The Redemption is the most tactically powerful ship in the squadron capable of deployment. I need them here. Protecting the people we’ve signed a treaty with.’

Shepherd sucked her teeth. ‘Between Ranger and Tempest…’

‘Tempest is on escort duty for the next relief run to Teros, and the last runabout patrol suggested the Three Crows are sniffing around these convoys,’ Rourke cut her off, jaw tight.

Valance could feel the situation shifting, like sand sliding underfoot. She turned to Hale. ‘We’ve already engaged with the people of Feserell about support. What are our commitments?’

Hale hesitated. ‘The longer Feserell prevaricates, the longer our continued involvement creates more difficulties with the Klingon Empire. That becomes us challenging the Khitomer Accords, not them, if we’re interfering with their interests in a neutral party.’

‘The House of K’Var are already coming for an ally and know we’re there,’ Valance pointed out. ‘How much more strained can it become?’

Hale gave her a slightly sharp glance. ‘Captain, you know full well there are moderate houses who see the former Star Empire as a ripe target, but consider leaving the Republic alone a suitable compromise with the Federation. If we step in against Imperial assaults on independent worlds, those moderate voices may either become less interested in that compromise, or will sound much less convincing.’

‘Why leave the Republic alone if attacking any Romulan world brings the ire and opposition of the Federation?’ Faust mused. ‘For what it’s worth, Commander Cortez says that if we could buy her an extra seventy-two hours, she could bring a significant amount of the defensive infrastructure online. Hasty reinforcements to run a delaying action against this strike force could have an exponential pay-off.’

Rourke lightly thumped the bottom of his fist on the side of the control panel in thoughtful frustration. ‘Captain Daragon, inform the people of Feserell that if and when they are attacked, they must send us a direct distress call if they are to receive aid. Take the Redemption to rendezvous with Captain Faust.’

‘Sir, I must protest –’

‘Our treaty commitments with the Republic come first.’

‘That is a raiding force,’ Daragon pressed. ‘They will attack and then they will leave. We expect a full occupying conquest of Feserell. The loss of life will be considerably higher.’

Rourke’s expression settled into a full scowl. ‘You have your orders. Captain Xhakaza, I’ll be dispatching a support wing of smallcraft from Gateway. Rendezvous with them and reinforce the Swiftsure; they can lend assistance with Commander Cortez’s operations.’ He looked over at Harrian. ‘I’ll want you taking that into the field, Cal.’

The tall Bajoran nodded. ‘Understood.’

Rourke’s eyes settled on the projected officers. ‘This is my decision. Lodge your protests if you wish. But we do not have the firepower to be everywhere at once. We’re going to help our allies.’ He gave a sharp nod before any of them could speak. ‘Stay safe out there.’

Valance barely waited for the projector to go dead before she said, ‘You should send me instead of Commander Harrian.’

Rourke was reading one of the screen displays, and didn’t move for a moment. Then he looked up at Hale, Shepherd, and Harrian, and said, ‘Thank you, that’ll be all.’

Jaw tight, Valance did now wait for them to leave, ignoring Shepherd’s apprehensive glance as she passed. ‘I’m not going to sit here and do nothing while we’re in a crisis,’ she said once the doors slid shut behind them.

Rourke straightened, brow furrowed. ‘How’ve you been sleeping, Captain?’

She heard him maintain rank. He’d always been the one to drop formality first, but despite the personal question, he was sticking to professionalism. That meant, she knew, he was preparing to shut her down if necessary.

It might have to be necessary.

‘I’m not sure how that’s pertinent, sir,’ she said.

‘Deneb to Frontier Day to the Borg to your long return journey to Qo’noS. That’s a long six months with no rest.’

‘I’m not sure my vacation’s anywhere near as important as sending someone with the support wing. Don’t you need Harrian here?’

‘If I do, I can send Commander Rhade with the support wing. This isn’t about your vacation, Captain, it’s about keeping you sharp. And you’re not sharp when you’re strung out, tired, and frustrated.’ Rourke shook his head. ‘You’re taking a break. A proper break, not this half-on, half-off nonsense I’ve indulged so far.’

‘I don’t -’

‘You can stay close by on the Twilight Isles for all I care, but you’re clocking off properly. That’s not a choice.’ He straightened. ‘The squadron was assembled to deal with the Midgard Sector’s challenges before Martok went missing. If the Klingon Empire is about to become an enemy, we’re not anywhere near ready. I can’t make something out of nothing, but I can get the best out of what I have. And right now, you’re not the best.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re tired, stressed, snappish, and…’ Rourke hesitated, then shook his head. ‘Complete a handover to Kharth and then take at least ninety-six hours of uninterrupted leave. Minimum. That’s an order, Captain.’

Valance ground her teeth. ‘We’re abandoning Feserell, and you want me to travel to a resort island?’

‘We’re helping our allies, the people who entered into an agreement with us, the people who should be our priority,’ Rourke snapped, clearly unhappy about the decision, clearly unhappy at being pushed. ‘And there’s no way this is the end of it, so when the other shoe inevitably drops, I want Endeavour at the forefront.’

‘What happened,’ she said quietly, ‘to the first day-saving being free?’

A muscle quivered in the corner of Rourke’s jaw. ‘That’ll be all, Captain. Handover to Kharth. Then you’re done.’

There was a coldness to his voice she’d never heard him turn on her before. Then again, she’d never pushed it this hard before. And for what?

Valance’s gaze dropped. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, and turned, and left. Her booted footsteps on the deck felt no less clumsy on the way out.

Valance did not get back to sleep, returning to her quarters on Endeavour to do nothing more than glower out the window at the cavernous lower docking bay of Gateway. She’d pencilled in a meeting with Kharth later, and knew that she should either rest or begin to consider what to do with this enforced leave, but hadn’t the will to even consider an enforced break.

When the door chime sounded, she assumed, hoped, it was Kharth so they could get to work. But a glimpse at the wall display showed it was only 0800 hours, and with a scowl, she turned to the door. ‘Come in!’

It was Airex, looking a little worn and tired, out of uniform and in dusty, hard-wearing clothes with solid boots. ‘You haven’t slept,’ he observed.

‘Some. Aren’t you supposed to be on Alfheim?’

‘I was there.’ The refugee settlement was not in the same time-zone as the station, and Airex was likely feeling the transition. ‘Harrian contacted me.’

‘Harrian -’

‘He said you might need support.’

Valance’s jaw tightened. It hadn’t occurred to her that Harrian and Airex might have some friendliness after their time together when they’d been on Endeavour and she’d captained Pathfinder. ‘We’re abandoning Feserell. K’Var forces are threatening our defence of the Republic and we have to pull out. And Rourke’s ordered me to take leave. Proper leave.’

‘You should.’ Airex pulled off his dusty jacket and folded it neatly over the back of a chair. ‘We can’t be everywhere at once. Feserell -’

‘I don’t need the situation explaining to me again.’ Valance pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘I’m not a child. I don’t misunderstand, I disagree.’

‘So you think we should leave Faust under-manned trying to protect the Republic border?’

‘I think we should be doing everything possible to get Endeavour out there and give us options!’ She rounded on him, eyes flashing. ‘My vacation is not more important than people’s lives.’

Airex didn’t react, eyes on her rather cool. ‘Very well,’ he said at length. ‘Who gets compassionate leave if they need it? Lindgren, for killing people during Frontier Day? Or Thawn, for being psychically violated? Or Logan, for nearly being subsumed by the Borg Collective again?’

‘That’s not -’

‘Do we have the officers to relieve them? Or will we just subtly signal that they should man up and persevere until one of them makes a mistake that could get someone hurt or killed?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ said Valance between gritted teeth.

‘What if that person’s you?’ At her continued glower, Airex’s gaze softened. ‘Everyone has a breaking point, Karana.’

‘And I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m facing mine. Nothing’s happened.’

Airex stared at her for a moment. ‘Political developments in the Empire have seriously threatened your family. You’ve fought in one of the biggest military campaigns since the war. Your crew were assimilated by the Borg, your ship stranded halfway across the quadrant, and you’ve been catapulted into command of one of the premier starships of the fleet.’ He paused only a heartbeat before he added, softer, ‘And lost a serious relationship because of your career.’

Valance had been primed to argue until that last part. Now she turned away, back to the window, arms folded across her chest. ‘That’s absolutely beside the point.’

‘It’s not,’ Airex said, moving to join her. ‘Because when you’re stressed, you try to throw yourself into your work. Something you’ve not been able to persistently do for the last few weeks. A year ago, if you’d been forced into several days off work, you’d be checking your schedule against Isa’s.’

Her eyes dragged against the interior of the docking back beyond the window. Once, this had been an arboretum, built to give greenspace to the crew when the station had sat in orbit of an uninhabitable planet. Back then, the upper docking bay had been big enough for even the mightiest of Starfleet ships. But times had changed, and now Gateway’s guts had been ripped out to make way for new necessities.

‘My last interview with Rivera, she kept asking me who I’ve relied on, do rely on, in my life, in my work.’ She found her jaw tightening when she paused. ‘MacCallister’s gone. Things are different with Rourke. You’ve been…’ She hesitated, not wanting to attack him.

‘Not always here,’ Airex offered, saving her.

She gave an awkward nod. ‘And now Isa’s gone. When she left, she said she was… that she was done trying to fix me.’ Her shoulders hunched as her head bowed. ‘I spent so long getting by without people and told I should change that, should bring people in, and now all I have is this… this absence.’

He leaned against the windowsill beside her, voice dropping. ‘You miss her. That’s normal. But you don’t need fixing, Karana -’

‘I’d have said that a year ago, two years ago. But here I am, and it feels like I’m doing the same things I’ve always done, but…’ Something surged in her chest, the tart taste of grief in her throat, and she had to swallow down a wave of emotion before it could overwhelm her. Still her voice came out strained. ‘If I don’t need fixing, why is it like this? I wanted to be a captain my entire career. If I don’t need fixing, how can I be here and still feel so fucking lonely?’

She wasn’t sure what happened next. The world became a fuzzy mess, and some part of Valance wondered if that, too, was something Cortez would say was broken – that she couldn’t break down without a part of her leaving herself behind. That though she knew the tears fell, and she knew Airex stepped closer to pull her into a hug like he never had before, never needed to before, in so many ways it felt like it was happening to someone else.

Perhaps this was the breaking point, after all.

Thawn was slightly surprised her aunt hadn’t secured somewhere to stay on the surface of Alfheim, but her guest quarters on Gateway were inevitably some of the station’s more opulent. An egalitarian Federation only went so far when a matriarch of the Twelfth House leaned on some poor deck officer.

But it guaranteed them privacy. The suite of rooms kept her aunt’s two young attendants elsewhere when she was received and sat down with a cup of tea.

‘I’m glad you have time for this,’ said Anatras in that airy manner, which meant she was judging Rosara for not waiting on her hand and foot since her arrival. ‘I know you’re very busy with your ship in dock.’

‘I’m Chief Engineer, Auntie,’ Thawn said awkwardly. ‘It’s my responsibility to make sure Endeavour can be launched again as quickly as possible.’ For a moment, she considered pointing out that if Anatras had given her more warning, she might have cleared her schedule – and swept that thought away before it could take root, banishing any feeling or consideration that might come from it.

‘I understand. It’s very important.’ Anatras sipped her tea. ‘But we have this time, and that’s what matters. You might be happy to know I’ve spoken again with Adamant, and with his parents, and we’ve come to an agreement. They will put out a statement in the Gazette or such announcing their choice to dissolve the genetic bonding.’

‘Oh.’ For a long moment, Thawn couldn’t find anything else to say. This commitment had loomed over her life for the better part of two decades, and here her aunt was, sweeping it away in a matter of sentences. ‘I’m… thank you, Auntie.’

It should have come with a sense of relief. Of freedom. This had been the true obstacle; not her feelings, not her choices. Not understanding them, or deciding what she wanted. But the tension between that and what she would be allowed to do. What price there would be. It was now done, and yet, the weight had not lifted.

‘I’m very fond of Nate,’ Anatras was saying airily, stirring more sugar into her tea, a clear sign she wasn’t that impressed with the replicated fare. ‘Please tell him it’s no bother at all that he was so… agitated at dinner. I understand he’s not Betazoid, that there’s a lot he’ll have to adjust to.’

Thawn swallowed. That was why relief hadn’t come yet. The price hadn’t been set. ‘He’s been very busy lately. His work doesn’t stop just because we’re docked, either.’

‘No, and it’s important. I understand that.’ Anatras glanced up, eyes glinting. ‘You’ve shown good judgement with him.’

‘I didn’t… his family had nothing to do with my decision.’

‘No. Of course not.’ Her aunt waved a gentle, dismissive hand. ‘But people are always naturally more comfortable among their own. He may be human, but he is still one of us, isn’t he. Enough.’

Influential, you mean. Of the right social standing. The next swallow was heavy. ‘I suppose.’

‘And it is always so sad to see such families struggle. He’s lucky to have you.’

Thawn blinked. ‘He is?’

‘I’m sure that whatever discontent there is between him and his father… well.’ Anatras reached across the coffee table to put a hand on hers gently. ‘It is easier to deal with these matters when one is happy. I’m sure you’ll be a source of great support.’

It could not have been more transparent, this permission to leave Rhade, permission to be with Beckett, with the expectation she bridge these rifts within that family and forge new bonds between theirs. Perhaps her aunt knew she couldn’t force the matter with the genetic bonding, but she was most certainly going to leap on this new opportunity.

‘I’m not about to tell Nate,’ Thawn said carefully, ‘that he has to get on with his father. I’ll support him in what he needs. But what he needs might be to have nothing to do with Admiral Beckett.’

‘These things take time.’ Anatras’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and Thawn didn’t have to extend her senses to know that her aunt would be patient about this – but not forever. In a year, five years, ten years, there would be fresh expectations. ‘For now, you should just try to be happy together.’

There was no world where her aunt would tell her to live her life, however she wanted, with no expectation. This was as good as it could get – an acceptance of her choice, with an expectation that could be navigated and managed over time. She did not need to force Nate to forgive his father. Anatras could be deflected, or, so long as the galaxy thought the Twelfth House and the family of a Starfleet admiral were close, the truth was irrelevant. There were still Nate’s feelings to consider, his resistance, but she had to navigate that regardless of what Anatras said today.

She was free. She’d won.

But Thawn sat with her hands wrapped around her teacup and didn’t say anything for a while. ‘Auntie…’

‘Yes, child?’ Anatras sipped her tea with all the self-satisfaction of a woman who had rigged the game so she won, no matter the outcome.

‘When I was little – I mean, when you arranged the genetic bonding with Adamant… it was so long ago.’ Thawn frowned at nothing. The memories felt like they lay behind a fog she couldn’t sweep aside. ‘Did I agree?’

‘Agree?’ Anatras blinked. ‘My. You were so young. Nobody expected you to understand the magnitude of the matter.’

‘Yes, but I…’ Thawn faltered. A thickness rose in her throat as the fog rolled back. ‘I didn’t want it. Did I.’

‘We knew that as you grew older, your sense of responsibility to your family would…’

‘Would what? Make me ignore what I wanted?’ Your family owed you better than telling you your emotions were inconvenient. Rhade’s words thundered through her, thudding in time with her racing heart, and it was like a wave to push back all of those clouded memories, thoughts, feelings.

Anatras stiffened. ‘It would have been irresponsible of me to refuse such an opportunity to rebuild our family’s standing, establish our family’s futures, at the whims of a nine year-old.’

‘So instead you told me to accept it. To shut up, and do what I was told.’

‘I never told you to be silent.’

‘Yes, you did.’ Thawn was on her feet now, blood pounding in her ears. ‘With every time you told me to be patient, to wait, that it might not happen, that I’d understand later, you told me what I was feeling was wrong.’ An iron lump was in her throat, but she kept using her voice because she didn’t trust what might be unleashed if she fell back on her telepathy.

That thought cracked something else, and it took all of her self-control to not let out a choking sob. ‘Great Fire,’ she whispered. ‘It’s not just that I didn’t voice my feelings, or didn’t act on them, or didn’t trust them. I locked myself away, didn’t I?’

‘Rosara!’ Anatras sounded a mixture of indignant and pleading as she stood.

‘Because if I even felt that this, this thing you told me was so important for everyone, wasn’t what I wanted, you sensed it, Mother sensed it, anyone sensed it and you were all just so, so… disappointed in me.’ She clenched her fists, driving her fingernails into her palm. ‘I wasn’t even allowed to think anything you didn’t want without feeling like I was failing everyone I loved!’

‘You were a child.’

‘A child you taught – all of you, my whole family – that she couldn’t speak up, think up, voice what she wanted, feel what she wanted, without feeling ashamed.’ Thawn shook her head, nostrils flaring as she glared at the generic art on the wall. ‘I thought for so long that it was leaving Betazed that changed me. That I didn’t adapt to a non-telepathic society, that this was why I struggled to connect to people. But it happened before that, didn’t it? Because all you taught me was how to push away every thought or feeling I had that was my own.’

Anatras tilted her head, setting her jaw in a way Thawn recognised. It was what she did when she was trying to stand her ground, but didn’t know if she should. ‘You’re being quite dramatic now, child. I am not responsible for your difficulty adapting to life off Betazed.’

‘No.’ Thawn bit her lip. ‘But you’re why I’ve never, ever trusted my feelings about anything; never been able to… connect.’ She took a step back and raised a hand. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen: the arrangement with Adamant is, yes, ending. And I am going to do… whatever the fuck I want.’ Her voice shook with the force of feeling from both sentiment and emphasis.

‘Child!’

‘That might mean being with Nate. It might not be. It certainly doesn’t mean trying to make him get on with his father, or doing photo ops with him, or anything like that!’

Anatras’s gaze went cold. ‘You are being deeply immature. I can indulge it for so long, but do not pretend there won’t be consequences.’

Thawn set her hands on her hips. ‘Like what? I’m not a child anymore.’

‘You’re not. You’re an adult with a duty to your family. Which makes this all the more disappointing.’

There was no world where those words from Anatras, her great-aunt, the matriarch of the Twelfth House, didn’t slice through to Thawn’s very core. She could be as defiant as she wanted, as strong as she wanted, and it was still a body blow, enough to knock all the air out of her, even though she’d known it was coming. It was the sort of sentiment that had haunted her, the fear of it keeping her in line for years, and Thawn knew that would never, ever go away.

She was not a child anymore. That did not mean she was immune to such a chastisement. But it did mean she could hear it and still stand on her own two feet.

‘Duty is reciprocal,’ Thawn said quietly. ‘You have never done your duty to me. I’m done being obligated; do what you will. Cut me off from the family, deny me anything to return to. I don’t think you will. I think you’ll hedge your bets so you can tell everyone I’m involved with an admiral’s son. But do not pretend, Auntie, that this is some accord we’ve reached. I am doing what I want, what I need. You may respond however you wish.’

Anatras had gone quiet, her lips a thin line, her powdered cheeks a little pale. She did not speak again, and when her words rolled across Thawn’s mind, it came with all of the roiling fury of a woman unaccustomed to defiance.

Some day you will need us. Pray that I am merciful when that comes, child. Your fleeting engagement with a youthful distraction, your commitment to an organisation that does not care for you, will all come to an end some day. On that day, you will need family.

Thawn gave a fleeting ghost of a smile. We’ll see. Travel safely home, Auntie.

She held it together as she left. Stayed poised as she walked the corridor of the most luxurious guest rooms of Gateway Station. Stepped into an empty turbolift without hesitation, without giving a single sign to a single onlooker that there was anything amiss.

Two decks down, she halted the turbolift, and fell into a crumpled, sobbing heap on the floor.

‘I should be forcing you to take time off,’ Valance grumbled as she slid a PADD across her desk towards Kharth.

Her XO picked it up, eyebrow quirked. ‘Take that up with Rourke. Difference between you and me, though, is that I’ve actually been relaxing while off-duty. You’ve been wearing holes in carpets waiting for your shift to start.’

Valance wondered if Kharth and Rourke had exchanged notes. Worse, for Kharth to know that, someone was almost certainly helping keep tabs on her. Was it Nestari, her yeoman? But that all came with a surge of bitter paranoia, and she swallowed it down. This was, as Kharth had argued days ago, an XO’s job.

‘If we don’t have to scramble the moment maintenance is finished,’ Valance said, ‘I’ll give you forty-eight hours.’

‘Generous,’ Kharth drawled. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Ymir. The city has an interesting history.’ Valance sighed. ‘And I still have interviews with Rivera.’

‘Can’t you tell her to pound sand for four days?’

She hesitated. The interviews were intrusive, blowing cold air on parts of her more vulnerable than she’d admitted. But there was something liberating about them now she looked back, a freedom to discussing these matters with someone who had no interest in asking her to change.

‘No,’ Valance said at last. ‘I’ll get this over and done with. I might as well be productive.’

‘Four days off,’ mused Kharth, ‘and you’re gonna walk your feet to the bone in museums all day, then handle a journalist. You’re a masochist, Valance.’

‘I think my time’s being wasted when we can be more useful. I’ll remain mentally stimulated instead of lazing on a beach.’ She had to swallow another note of bitterness, dimly recalling shore leave on Aeriaumi III a year ago, a year that felt like a lifetime, when she and Isa had clashed about how to use their time. They’d gone their separate ways for days, a concept that felt so indulgent to Valance now. So wasteful, so presumptuous that time would be plentiful.

‘Masochist,’ Kharth said again, and her sharpness was enough to banish the tension in Valance’s throat, so reminiscent of how she’d drowned just hours ago with Airex. That was for the best. She didn’t need another breakdown.

The door-chime sounded, saving captain and first officer from another bicker. They exchanged glances, Kharth shrugged, and Valance called, ‘Come in!’

Rosara Thawn did not look like she’d had much sleep, her uniform crumpled, hair mussed. She wrang her hands together as she approached the desk. ‘Captain, Commander, may I – that is, I need to speak with you.’

Another glance was exchanged. Valance extended a hand. ‘Keep it quick, Lieutenant.’

‘I…’ Thawn looked at the chair she’d been gestured to. Stopped. Straightened. ‘Captain, I am officially requesting you consider me for the position of Chief Engineer. Permanently.’

Something in Kharth’s expression shifted in a way Valance couldn’t read. The captain leaned back in her chair, looking up at the young Betazoid, and said, ‘You have been under consideration.’

‘Have I seriously been?’ There was an unfamiliar bite to Thawn’s voice. ‘Or are you saying that until someone better comes along, or you think you can get Perrek back? Or T’Varel?’

‘I -’

‘Captain, I deserve better than to just be some placeholder you can move around because you know I’m competent enough and will do as I’m told!’ Thawn’s voice thundered around the room.

Kharth scowled, lifting a hand. ‘Hold the hell up, Lieutenant -’

‘No, Commander, I won’t.’ Thawn glared at her enough to make even Kharth shut up, if only by sheer surprise, and turned back to Valance. ‘I’m good enough. You know I’m good enough. I might not be so fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants as – as some engineers, but I know what I’m doing. I kept the ship flying on the hunt for the Rotarran. And I can keep on doing this for you. For the ship.’

Valance watched her. Watched her chest heaving, saw the shine in her eyes. She tilted her chin up and said, ‘And for yourself, I assume.’

‘Yes,’ said Thawn, to her surprise. ‘I want it, Captain. I’m good at it and I want it. And you’ve been sidelining me because… I don’t know why. Because you can?’

‘Because a Chief Engineer has to fight me like this,’ said Valance after a beat. She couldn’t pretend this was the whole truth; that she’d underestimated or sidelined Thawn to test her. Or that she’d been thinking of Thawn at all in her behaviour. The idea of deciding on a new, permanent Chief Engineer for Endeavour hurt, even though Cortez hadn’t held the position for most of a year now.

‘I’m going to demand things from you,’ Valance continued, looking the Betazoid officer in the eye, ‘and you’re going to have to tell me that it’s not possible. Not that you’ll try, or you’ll make accommodations. But that it’s not achievable. Or that it’s not safe. In a way you never had to as Ops. I am going to advocate for the mission, and you are going to have to advocate for the ship itself. You have to be ready to say “no” to me, and be honest, Lieutenant. Has that ever been your strong point?’

Thawn hesitated. ‘I can see the irony if I say “no” right now,’ she said, and Kharth scoffed.

‘Commander, give me that PADD.’ Valance extended a hand, and Kharth passed back the one she’d been given only minutes ago. Valance thumbed in a few quick commands and returned it. ‘It’s done.’

‘It’s done?’ Thawn wrinkled her nose.

‘You’ve been permanently assigned as Chief Engineer.’

‘I… thank you, Captain!’

‘You can thank me,’ said Valance brusquely, ‘by getting us ready to move out as efficiently as possible. Crew still won’t be returning for a few days yet. It’s not about doing it fast. It’s about doing it right.’

‘And getting a break, too,’ Kharth added in a drawl. ‘I don’t know when I became the fluffy one here, but seriously, Thawn, you look a state.’

‘I’ll rest! I will. I can make some arrangements with Riggs…’

‘Good. Then get to it. Dismissed.’

Kharth’s gaze on Valance was dubious as Thawn bustled out. ‘You think she’s ready?’

‘I think she’s come a long way in a few short years,’ said Valance. ‘And I think people are asking that about you and me.’

This next scoff was gentler, and Kharth looked more wry. ‘You think we’re ready?’

Valance rubbed her temple. ‘Damned if I know.’ She stood up. ‘Keep the ship intact while I’m gone.’

‘I think I’d have to screw up real big on that while we’re berthed,’ Kharth pointed out. ‘Try taking a day off with a book or something. Or see some people. I don’t know. Whatever makes your little synth-hearts slow down instead of getting wound tighter and tighter.’

The words stung oddly. She was used to jibes from Kharth, and used to some of them landing. This one hit hard enough for being closer to home than she’d been expected, and yet came with the same cutting indifference as the rest of Kharth’s comments. It was comforting, in a way, the sense her XO – this woman she’d so often been at odds with – could maybe see her exposed vulnerabilities, and gave no more of a damn about that than anything else.

Or maybe she’d seen them all along, and it still wasn’t what she was being judged for.

‘When I’m back,’ said Valance, and saw Kharth brace as if a threat was coming, ‘we should start doing something.’

‘Something?’

She’d started the sentence before she’d really known what she was saying. Now Valance shrugged. ‘Breakfasts. I don’t know. We’re CO and XO.’ She hadn’t done that with Rourke. But Rourke had made space for her in his own way, letting professional conversations linger, checking in. She couldn’t do it that way, blur lines then redraw them as he did. She needed things boxed off.

But maybe she could have multiple boxes.

‘Breakfast,’ Kharth echoed, like she was considering another retort. Or maybe wondering if there was a trap. Then she shrugged. ‘Yeah, alright. Go unwind, Valance, for Vor’s sake.’

‘I thought you should know,’ said Thawn, trying to smother rising anxiety as she stood in the open door to Beckett’s quarters, ‘that my aunt’s left.’

He’d opened with a guarded, apprehensive expression that fell as she spoke, and stepped back to usher her in. ‘You alright?’

She twisted her fingers together as she entered. ‘Yes? No? I got what I wanted.’ But their argument still hung over her, and she didn’t know how much she could say to him. How much he wanted her to say. So as the doors shut behind her, she said, ‘You’re off the hook, by the way.’

‘Off the…’

‘I’ve made it clear to Anatras that she doesn’t get to swap one political arrangement for another. That I won’t try to secure links between our families or anything like that.’

‘Okay.’ He sounded a bit dumbfounded, but she’d passed him to stand in the middle of the one-room quarters, staring past the bed at the window, and the looming interior of Gateway beyond. ‘What’d she say?’

‘I think…’ Thawn’s voice caught. ‘I think I’m going to pay for this some day. I’m not sure when. I’m not sure how. But there’ll be consequences. But I’m free, anyway. I live my life. She doesn’t get to dictate it. Not any more.’

‘That’s… that must have been really hard.’

She knew if she looked at him, this would get tougher. Reading him was like breathing, sometimes, and he’d made it clear he didn’t want her to, found that unsettling when it wasn’t reciprocal. ‘Yes,’ she sighed, gesturing at nothing. ‘Yes, it was hard, Nate, pushing her back, pushing away every pressure I’ve let rule me for… for years…’

She’d thought she had more control, or perhaps her mask wasn’t as good as she thought, or she’d simply underestimated him, because a mere second later he was by her side, hands on her shoulders.

‘Hey – hey, I’m sorry you had to do all of this alone. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did; I put myself first, and that was a crappy time to do it…’

‘Okay.’ She twisted in his grip, not pulling away but finally turning to face him. He looked worn and tired, she realised, and now she wondered how much it had been weighing on him. ‘I should be clear, I guess: it was a good thing for me to do this cleanly. I don’t think I’d have done that if you hadn’t pulled away. I’d have tried to compromise, when what I really, really needed to do was recognise how much my family’s hurt me – and draw a line.’

‘That’s good,’ he said, expression creased. ‘That you could do that. Because – yeah. You deserve better than playing by their rules, because you know you can never do it right. Never be enough. The game’s rigged. But still…’ She had been about to speak, not sure if she was actually going to argue with him on instinct, defend her family on instinct, but he pushed forward. ‘Still, you shouldn’t have had to do that alone.’

She bit her lip. ‘It wasn’t easy.’

‘And I’m sorry. I should trust you better. Because you do get it about my father. And this was absolutely the time for me to suck it up and have your back.’ His gaze was earnest, guilty, and she felt her chest ease at the warmth of his hands still at her shoulders.

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it first. I should have seen it coming. It’s just so hard to think with my family, with my aunt. I could have planned, but planning would have made it all very… real.’

‘And you were ambushed by her arriving. I do get it. And I’m glad you figured it out, but…’ He tilted his head, and apprehension rose again. ‘What if I wasn’t off the hook?’

‘What?’

‘Because there will be something that comes next. Some day, the other shoe’s gonna drop with your aunt.’

‘I’m not going to ask you to make an effort with your father you don’t want to make just so my aunt…’

‘I mean that when that comes… how about I actually have your back?’

There were a thousand things to say. She was still hurt but guilty, victorious yet shattered. Words were inadequate, but she still couldn’t reach out with her thoughts. So she made herself clear the last way she could, by falling against him, burying her face against his shoulder and letting him wrap his arms around her. It was like falling into a blanket, like falling asleep after days of exhaustion, like staggering into the warm indoors after being left out in the cold.

And still he was speaking, his voice soft, earnest. ‘We never said what comes next. We just ran away together and then lurched from one crisis to the next. And somehow we can… go hell-bent-for-leather for each other, somehow I can try to break myself rescuing you from the Borg or… or let some eldritch inter-dimensional abomination out of its prison when it’s that or lose you…’ His words started to tumble over each other, and he pulled back, bringing his hands to her cheeks, tilting her face up to his. ‘And I still had to play coy about if going for dinner meant anything?’

She gave a hapless whisper of a scoff. ‘I avoided it, too. I threw away my entire life to chase after you, run off with you…’

‘And I’m still not saying anything, am I?’ Beckett mused, lips curling with amused frustration, and she could see him wrestling, because she knew words weren’t easy. ‘I’m trying to say – I want you, I want to be with you. I want the dinners together, the dumb holidays, the shore leave trips, the fights about taking up too much space on the bookshelf – cos I will take up way too much. I want it all. Cute dates. Lazy mornings. And all the sillier moments in between.’ But even as she gazed at him with delighted fascination, he gave a rueful shake of the head. ‘Still feels super… mundane, when I put it like that. Like just scratching the surface. Am I making sense, though?’

It wasn’t just that words were hard. They gave definitions, but they set boundaries; boundaries on thoughts and feelings that felt limitless.

She rested her hand against his chest. ‘You are,’ she murmured. ‘And…’ It took a moment to force her breathing to slow. ‘We argued about me reading you. But we still could… connect, couldn’t we.’

His gaze flickered. ‘I still found you in the dark.’

‘I realised something, talking with Adamant, fighting with my aunt. It’s not just that I cut myself off from non-telepaths because I don’t know how to communicate. I cut myself from everyone a long time ago. Spent so long not believing I could want things for myself, thinking my feelings were wrong or an inconvenience. So I didn’t let myself show them. Didn’t let anyone else see them. Locked up doors inside myself I… didn’t even begin to understand.’

‘Wow,’ breathed Beckett after a beat. ‘Your family really did way more of a number on you than I thought.’

But he wore a gentle smile, and she had to give a nervous giggle. It died quickly enough, and she found her hand curling in his uniform jacket. ‘I’m saying, I… our connection doesn’t have to be one way. It doesn’t have to be me reading you and you not reading me. But it takes…’

She didn’t have the words for it, and yet his gaze sobered with an understanding she couldn’t grasp.

‘Oh,’ he whispered. ‘Oh, it takes completely jumping off the cliff, huh.’

It took surrender. She could press her forehead against his, stand close enough for their breathing to mingle, and that still wasn’t it. It was the crumbling of fortifications in her mind she’d forgotten she’d ever built, reaching out with tottering telepathic senses in a way she hadn’t for decades, in a way she’d been told brought only disappointment and shame.

She’d found his thoughts across hundreds of millions of kilometres, trapped on a Devore warship with a thousand Brenari echoes swirling around him. The bond between them had been somehow enough for him to find her, trapped on a dying Borg diamond. And still, through all of that distance, tension, life-and-death stakes, that was not as hard as it was to crack herself open and reach out for him.

Hard and yet as easy as breathing, at the same time.

There he was, laid out for her like the sheafs of a manuscript, every thought and feeling. The fear and guilt at the core of him that she knew was reflected in herself, the trepidation at that whispering sense of each other as they intertwined without secrets, without deflection. And wonder, growing wonder, as she knew he could see all the same in her, too.

Eyes closed, pressed against him, Thawn felt her lips curl, and despite being closer to him than words, she still spoke, if only in a whisper, as if anything louder might break the moment. ‘Hello, Imzadi…’

They’d stood at this precipice for what felt like aeons, pulling away from or pushing each other, themselves, in turn. Even now, all they’d done, with all of their decisiveness and hard choices and admissions, was lean over the edge like it was a dare. For all their bravery, until this moment, they hadn’t, as he’d said, jumped off the cliff. But now there was no fear. No uncertainty. Just peerless skies ahead, and deep, inviting waters below.

And together they fell.