Rourke was halfway through breakfast when the door-chime to his quarters went, so he had to shovel in the rest of his scrambled eggs. ‘Come in!’

‘Oh, Matt – I didn’t mean to interrupt…’ Dr Josie Logan hesitated in the doorway when she saw him.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘Come in, you’re alright. Coffee?’

‘I shouldn’t.’ She paused near his dining table. ‘Alright.’

‘Twisted your arm there,’ he observed wryly, and replicated a mug for her and fresh cafetiere for them both. ‘I’m on the bridge in twenty minutes, but we’re still waiting for the rendezvous so if you need a lot of time I can send up word.’

‘Oh, no. This won’t even take the cup of coffee. Probably.’ She sipped the mug anyway, as if she’d be dismissed without being allowed to finish if her business were quick. ‘I’ve been still working on the Starfleet suppression of Erik Halvard’s presence – alleged presence – here in the Minos Sector.’

‘I’m increasingly confident it isn’t him,’ said Rourke, grimacing at his coffee. ‘Though Commander Airex and Counsellor Carraway seeing him in the flesh on Lockstowe raises more questions.’

‘I’m, um, leaving that down to you, Matt. But I’ve hit a few… no, not brick walls. Road bumps.’

‘Go on.’

She frowned, pulling out a PADD and flicking her holodisplay bigger. ‘Specifically I’ve been trying to pull all of the findings of the inquest into the deaths of Commanders Halvard and Winters,’ she said, paying too much attention to her notes to notice him flinch. ‘I hoped you could explain why half of it’s classified.’

Rourke stared. ‘It is?’

‘I – yes. The conclusions of course clear you and the staff of the Firebrand of any wrongdoing or error, and I can access most of the statements given, but no all. I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was news.’

‘I didn’t…’ He stopped himself and drew a deep breath. ‘Investigators talked to me, and I was informed that there’d be no escalation once the inquiry was over. I wasn’t in a position to watch the proceedings and I didn’t read the findings.’

He’d been a wreck. At ‘home’ on Earth, on medical leave at his counsellors’ advice, about to take a job at Starfleet Academy. The last thing he’d needed was to immerse himself in the detailed analysis of every single incident leading to the deaths of two people so important to him.

‘Well.’ She bit her lip. ‘Lieutenant Slater’s account is heavily redacted. That’s all I can say for sure. There are other accounts which have been obscured, and best I can tell it’s from the intelligence teams in sector strategic operations. Which suggests there was something in the initial leads for your mission that someone thought might be relevant, and were too sensitive to be revealed.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense.’ Rourke scowled. ‘We were on the trail of a drugs cartel, it wasn’t anything sensitive. They would have warned me so I could contain any findings which weren’t for general circulation. Even if I didn’t get the full picture. And what did Slater have to do with it? He was my Chief Engineer, he had nothing to do with the undercover operation.’

‘Okay. I thought you might know something before I went digging further, but that’s okay, Matt.’ She finished her coffee quickly. ‘I’ll just get on it myself -’

‘No, no.’ He stood, the rest of his breakfast forgotten. ‘I’ll reach out to Slater.’

‘Um, I thought you wanted me to look into this because I’m less suspicious?’ Her eyebrows raised. ‘If you contact Slater, it’ll be obvious you’re digging into this.’

‘What possible reason do you have to reach out to him?’

‘I can…’ She looked away, thinking. ‘I can say that I’m trying to gather information on Erik Halvard for analysis of his appearance out here in the Minos Sector. If I say it, it’ll seem like this is some very low-priority work so it won’t get much suspicion.’

‘This still makes no sense,’ said Rourke, glaring at his coffee cup.

‘Maybe not.’ She stood, putting her PADDs away and abandoning her unfinished drink. ‘But I’ll find out what I can. I can be discreet, Commander, you really don’t have to worry; I’ll make it sound as officious and routine as possible. I’m good at burying important things in information requests -’

‘I have to get to the bridge. Thank you, Doctor.’ He turned away, heading for the doors and barely noticing her hurt expression, or considering how he was kicking her out of his quarters because it was that or leave her there.

He hardly heard her farewells, lost in his own thoughts and then heading the bridge. Kharth relinquished the command chair at his arrival. ‘Anything?’ he asked.

‘All quiet, sir,’ she said, moving to assume her position at tactical.

‘They’re not very late,’ said Thawn unhappily.

‘Late enough,’ grumbled Rourke, sitting in the big chair and only now wishing he’d brought his coffee with him as it became time to wait.

He’d expected a delay. What he’d not expected was, after a rather dull two hours on the bridge, Kharth to break the silence with a snap of, ‘Klingon Bird-of-Prey decloaking off our bow!’

‘Easy,’ said Rourke, lifting a hand. ‘Bit dramatic for Torkath but -’

‘They’re raising shields and charging weapons.’

That was even less expected. ‘What the hell, Torkath – red alert! ID that ship!’

‘She’s the IKS Roghtak, sir,’ reported Thawn. ‘Not the Vor’nak..’

Lindgren turned at her console. ‘We’re being hailed, sir.’

‘Maybe we can get some answers. On screen.’

Rourke did not recognise the burly Klingon whose face, silhouetted against the gloom of a Bird-of-Prey’s bridge, appeared on the screen. ‘This is Commander Rourke, USS Endeavour. State your business.’

Deep-set eyes in a face that was square even by Klingon standards met his. ‘I am Dakor. You, Rourke, are the one who has been waiting at our border for the past twelve hours.’

‘At,’ Rourke emphasised. ‘We have not crossed, nor do we intend to, and this is neutral territory. You have no grounds for aggression.’

‘Aggression -’

‘A sudden decloaking followed by arming yourselves.’ Rourke shrugged. ‘What is that?’

‘The investigation of a possible threat.’

‘If you intended to attack, you would have done so. If you were innocently examining us, you could have hailed us from much further away. But instead you’ve given up the element of surprise, which suggests you’ve no intention of starting trouble, and every intention of sabre-rattling. I don’t scare so easy. So how about we both down-power our weapons, and have a civilised conversation like the friends the Federation and Klingon Empire are?’

‘Not all the Empire,’ Dakor said in a low growl, and Rourke’s stomach twisted until he spoke on. ‘I am sure there are many of your Starfleet who would be so eager for retribution against the House of Mo’Kai that they may wish trouble against all Klingons.’

‘That is hardly the Starfleet way, Dakor. But you are right to be mindful of the tensions the House of Mo’Kai have caused. Which is why I and my ship are not threatening your border.’

‘You may conduct your meeting in many places, Rourke. Further from our border.’

‘You have no authority to move us along.’

‘The protection of this border is the responsibility of me and my house. You may proclaim you have the right to linger. I proclaim the right to force you back.’ Dakor leaned forward. ‘Who shall win, I wonder?’

‘The B’rel-class against the Manticore-class? That hardly seems a question.’ Rourke set his jaw. It was a bluff; he was hardly about to underestimate a Bird-of-Prey in the hands of a skilled commander, who could make the Manticore slow and lumbering in comparison.

‘Sir!’ Kharth looked up from her console. ‘Second Bird-of-Prey on approach!’

But Rourke saw Dakor’s smile was more a tense baring of teeth. ‘Friends of yours?’

‘Perhaps,’ growled Dakor, ‘you should reconsider your position.’

Rourke glanced down at the display on his armrest. Then he looked up at Dakor and grinned. ‘I don’t think so. My appointment is here. Ensign Lindgren, patch the Vor’nak through to this communication.’

Torkath was a lean Klingon, hawk-like in look, and Rourke knew him to be far more precise and measured than most of his kind. He sat back on his bridge, gaze languid. ‘Brother, you have picked trouble.’

Rourke was frowning – they weren’t that close – but Dakor gave a snarl. ‘This matter is mine to resolve -’

‘I was summoned to the meeting. Matthew Rourke is an honourable warrior and has earned the right to my time,’ Torkath returned. ‘He waits here for me, and you try to challenge and dismiss him? Off with you.’

Dakor shifted in his seat. ‘He made it unclear for whom he waited.’

‘And owed you nothing,’ said Torkath. ‘Return to your patrols.’

Dakor’s gaze landed back on Rourke, who kept his wry smile. ‘This will be remembered, Rourke.’

‘Oh, the feeling’s mutual.’ Rourke sat back as Dakor’s face disappeared from the viewscreen, and the reports came of his Roghtak going to warp. Only then did he turn his smirk on Torkath. ‘You’re late.’

‘My timing feels flawless,’ Torkath pointed out. ‘I apologise for my brother. Our proximity to the iniquities of the Mo’Kai and the Hunters of D’Ghor mean many think of us as weak enough to prey upon. It has made him… territorial.’

‘Nothing like a crisis to bring family together. I’m glad we waited; your advice to not cross the border was sound. Would have done it five years ago to visit you without a thought.’

‘Times are not what they were. It is good to see you on a bridge again; your place is out here, not at a desk.’ Torkath gave a toothy grin, which Rourke tried to emulate without feeling too guilty. ‘What do you need of me?’

‘A crime gang’s marauding the Minos Sector. We’ve tracked them since our last run-in, and their warp signature suggests they crossed the border into Klingon space. It’s our intention to pursue.’

Torkath grimaced. ‘With the correct information, I can dispatch ships to chase -’

‘A nice promise, Torkath, but be realistic. You’re stretched as it is, you can’t give much to this pursuit. And, sorry, but your sensor technology isn’t as sophisticated as ours for work like this.’

‘No.’ Torkath drew a deep breath. ‘But I suspect I know their destination if they have crossed the border here. T’lhab Station answers not to my House, guised as a centre of commerce, but in recent years it has become a breeding ground for criminals to shelter, find supplies, jobs, crew. I imagine no other destination for a gang of this ilk.’

‘We know these people, Torkath. I can’t send you after them; they’re wily, you’re not equipped or trained for this -’

‘That insult to my talents aside,’ said Torkath, blunt but, Rourke knew, not truly offended, ‘I will not allow your warship to cross the border.’

Rourke opened his mouth to argue that Endeavour was not a warship. But the Klingons would hardly distinguish between a vessel of her design, ready to defend Federation interests against all-comers, and one intended to inflict violence. And with the high tensions between the two powers, he could not fault Torkath’s caution. ‘Then let’s compromise,’ he said at length. ‘If I dispatch a team on our runabout for this T’lhab Station, that can hardly be seen as a threat.’

‘So little threat that I cannot expect them to bring these enemies to justice,’ Torkath pointed out. ‘For their safety, they will have my protection and the escort of my ship. And the assistance of the House of K’Var.’

Rourke inclined his head, deeply relieved. ‘Thank you, old friend. You’re more decent than you need to be.’

‘As you say. We are friends. The Federation and the Empire. Torkath and Matthew. How soon do you need to depart?’

‘As quickly as possible; I know you hurried, but waiting here lengthened their head start -’

‘I understand. I had hoped we might have an evening to drink and reminisce. But on our return. Gather your team, prepare your ship, and I will see them safely to their mission and back. Vor’nak out.’

Rourke clicked his tongue as the viewscreen went dead, and looked to the bridge crew. ‘Better than nothing,’ he drawled. ‘Mister Drake, get the King Arthur prepped for a long-range mission. I’ll want her sensors for this hunt.’

‘No,’ said Kharth even as Drake set to work, and all eyes turned to the Security Chief, leaning on her console as she looked at Rourke. The Romulan shrugged. ‘Sorry, sir, just pre-empting this before you get it from Valance, Airex, probably Sadek, too. That’s “I” in the general sense? You can’t leave the ship for this away mission.’

‘I understand the facts of the case. Torkath is an old friend, and I have a lot of experience with Klingons,’ Rourke said defensively. He knew he shouldn’t have tolerated this on the bridge, but Kharth’s brusque approach had taken the wind out of his sails.

‘Others know the facts of the case,’ Kharth said. ‘Not me, because I don’t fancy taking my pointy-eared ass to a Klingon crime hotspot. But I can’t imagine Commander Valance has any experience of Klingons.’

His lips set. ‘Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Lieutenant.’ But he sighed, and looked to Ops. ‘Thawn, you’re up. You know the most of the ins and outs after working on the CIC and someone will need to man those sensors.’ The Betazoid gave him a wide-eyed nod, but he ignored her as he turned his gaze to the ceiling and, after suppressing a groan, tapped his combadge.

‘Rourke to Valance. You’ve got a mission, Commander.’

Valance had just finished packing when Airex arrived at her quarters. ‘Sensor analysis on the Blackbird warp signature,’ he said, brandishing a PADD.

She frowned, hefting her bag. ‘Thawn’s downloading everything from the CIC.’

‘Oh, you’re bringing her?’

‘I can’t bring you and leave Endeavour without her XO and second officer,’ she pointed out. ‘And you could have transmitted that to me anyway. Why the hand delivery?’

‘I thought -’ He stopped himself. ‘Look, when I stop by with a thinly-veiled pretext for wishing you luck on a long-distance away mission, you’re supposed to have the decency of not drawing attention to this.’

Valance hesitated. He was right that they were not the sort of friends to be overtly affectionate, expressing themselves through unspoken gestures and indirect assistance. Actually addressing these convolutions was something of a faux pas on her part. ‘I suppose I don’t have much time if there’s something on your mind.’

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘I was going to ask if there’s anything on your mind.’

‘It’s a high-stakes mission. There’s plenty on my mind.’

But he looked past her, through the open bedroom door. ‘You’re not bringing your baldric.’

Valance’s jaw set. ‘I’m a Starfleet officer.’

‘On a mission in the Klingon Empire, alongside Klingon officers, likely seeking out Klingons for help. Surely you’ll get further as a member of the House of A’trok?’

She marched over and plucked the PADD from his grip. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

Airex studied her expression, and sighed. ‘I didn’t mean to push. I just rather wish I were going with you.’

‘I want you here, making sure Rourke doesn’t run the ship ragged with Kharth and Sadek enabling him and Carraway doing nothing.’

‘I understand.’ He paused. ‘Truthfully, I don’t know what Rourke might do while we wait that’ll ruin the ship, but if you’re taking Drake, Thawn, and Lindgren he’ll need more senior bridge crew. At least I can get Cortez to finish the full purging of our coil assembly after the sabotage.’

She fiddled with the strap on her bag. ‘I’m bringing Cortez.’

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘You’re bringing someone bigoted against Klingons on a mission into the Empire.’

‘I was -’ She bit her lip. ‘Mistaken. Cortez wasn’t awkward around me because I’m part Klingon.’

‘She did insist she wasn’t, but I didn’t understand why then – oh.’ His eyes widened. ‘Oh.’

‘No “oh”.’ She tried to not wilt. ‘Like I said, I misunderstood. And we’re dealing with the pursuit of privately-constructed Federation ships; our Chief Engineer is the best person to provide additional expertise for Lieutenant Thawn if we hit a snag.’

‘I wasn’t going to say anything.’

‘You were,’ Valance said tautly. ‘Your eyebrow does this quirk when you’ve got something sardonic in mind.’

‘I always have something sardonic in mind,’ Airex pointed out. ‘But I’m glad. I quite like Cortez. She’s good at her job.’

‘There’s nothing to be glad of except our Chief Engineer isn’t a bigot. But it means I can use her skills on this assignment without worry.’

‘Or with a new worry.’

She looked him in the eye. ‘How’s working with Lieutenant Kharth?’

Airex wilted. ‘That’s hardly fair.’

‘It’s perfectly fair, if we’re going to have this conversation. She worked exceptionally hard on Lockstowe and certainly saved your life.’

‘You know,’ he said, ‘I could run further analysis on that sensor telemetry in the CIC and transmit it to you before you go.’

She tucked the PADD in a pocket on her pack with a supercilious smile. ‘I thought so.’

But he sobered. ‘Seriously. Watch your back. Not just with the Wild Hunt. Rourke might trust Torkath, but his brother is bad news and the Mo’Kai are definitely active in the area. A small Starfleet team on the wrong side of the border may be too tempting a target for them. Especially on this station.’

‘They’d be bold to act with warships of the House of K’Var escorting us.’

‘Klingons are bold,’ he said with a twist of the lips. ‘If you run into trouble on the station…’ Airex hesitated with a sigh. ‘There’s a little extra on the PADD. I need you to trust me, and not ask any questions, and only use the information there if you have to.’ He shook his head at her squint. ‘You’ll know it when you see it.’

She knew better than to press. ‘Good luck holding down the fort. Try to not let Rourke convert our shuttles all to fighters.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘And Adupon will massage his estimates on the repairs,’ she added. ‘You have to make him give specific schedule breakdowns, and chase him if he misses any of his deadlines.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

‘And if you need anything out of Ops, just tell Ensign Athaka it’s how Thawn does it; he’ll decide that makes it the best idea -’

‘Karana.’ A smile threatened the corner of his eyes, and she hadn’t realised she’d been flapping enough to prompt the familiarity of first names. ‘I am perfectly capable of acting as XO in your absence for a week or so while we do nothing. You worry about the mission.’

‘You seem to think,’ said Valance with a huff as she slung her bag over her shoulder, ‘I can’t worry about more than one thing at once.’ When he left, her gaze fell back on the baldric hanging in her bedroom, and she hesitated.

Shuttlebay 1 was a buzz of activity when she arrived. The King Arthur was the largest smallcraft on Endeavour and her only runabout. The scouting and scientific module was her default configuration and what the away team needed for this mission, reducing the workload for Cortez’s engineers swarming about the hull, but Valance squinted at the work on the mounting points on the top.

‘What’re they installing?’ she asked Thawn, packed and working from her PADD’s projected display as she waited.

‘Oh, Commander! Ah, I think it’s the weapons modules; we didn’t have them installed when we took the King Arthur out on that survey mission.’

‘No. We did not.’ Valance approached the runabout and rapped on the side of the hull to get the work team’s attention. ‘Do we have time for another module installation?’

The Benzite deck boss’s head stuck out over the edge. ‘Skipper’s orders, Commander. If you’re taking her over the border you’ll need firepower.’

‘That doesn’t answer my concern, Petty Officer Koya.’

Koya shrugged. ‘Sounds like something you need to take up with Commander Rourke. And it’ll take longer if we have this conversation. And probably if we have to take it off at this rate.’

A muscle twitched in the corner of Valance’s jaw. ‘What are you installing?’

‘Phaser cannon modules. Lieutenant Kharth assessed them as superior against potentially cloaking enemies compared to the slow deployment and rate of fire from the torpedo launchers.’ Koya looked back at her work. ‘Seeley! I said crank up the alignment with the power array at a rate of .25 at a time! Slow it down!’

Valance stepped back as the deck boss admonished her crew. Below Koya, the main hatch swung open and Lieutenant Drake looked down. ‘We’re all good to board, Commander, if you don’t mind the noise.’

Before she could reply, Thawn arrived at her side, glaring up at him. ‘How long were you in here? I’ve been waiting outside!’

He shrugged. ‘I didn’t say I’d wait for you, did I. And that’d bring the noise inside.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ Valance tossed her carryall up to Drake before clambering up the ladder to join him. ‘I will not have you two like this for a whole week in a confined space.’

‘Commander Rourke assigned me -’

‘He assigned you both,’ Valance told Thawn, trying to hide her displeasure at this fact. ‘Now don’t be children, Lieutenants.’

‘Yeah, Lieutenant,’ Drake said to Thawn as she clambered aboard.

Valance ignored them and went to the upper deck’s bunkroom to stow her gear. When she emerged into the rec room behind the bridge, Cortez and Lindgren had joined them.

‘I have seniority,’ Thawn was telling Drake with a tone Valance thought a little snotty.

‘No, Lieutenant Cortez has got seniority,’ he retorted.

Cortez raised her hands. ‘Hey, don’t bring me into this. Imagine I’m not here, wishing I had popcorn.’

Valance let out a tense breath. ‘What’s the problem now?’

Lindgren gave her an apologetic look. ‘Room allocations.’

Valance did some quick maths, wondering if she needed to share a room with someone to avoid Drake and Thawn murdering each other in the night. Her gut turned when she realised the next-most senior officer, and thus the person obvious for her to bunk with, was indeed Cortez – but then relief struck. ‘It’s fine, if one of you shares with Ensign Lindgren as most junior -’

‘I’ll share with Elsa,’ Thawn said with a defeated sigh, before glaring at Drake. ‘But I have seniority over you.’

‘Just go,’ Valance said, pointing at the hatch down.

‘I already grabbed a bunkroom,’ Cortez said apologetically as the others left. ‘Didn’t realise it was gonna be a thing.’ She shifted her weight. ‘I, uh, should check on Koya -’

‘I don’t know what their problem is,’ Valance said quickly. ‘Drake and Thawn. I like Thawn, she’s a good officer, but she’s been riled up since Thuecho.’ That was, she thought, a dismissive way to describe Thawn’s grief over losing someone she was close to, but Cortez was looking a bit trapped so she pressed on. ‘I would benefit from your assistance, Lieutenant, in managing the two of them. As second-in-command on this away mission.’

Cortez frowned and nodded. ‘Drake’s an alright kid, but I don’t get the problem neither.’

‘Lieutenant Thawn can be territorial when she feels like her worth is challenged. But if I’m honest…’ Valance hesitated. ‘Captain MacCallister always knew how to handle her.’

Cortez nodded thoughtfully. ‘So we praise her when she does her job well. Call her out when she’s being snotty. I don’t know if Drake’s motivations are the same, or if he’s just enjoying getting a rise out of her. I’ll try to take his pulse.’

‘That would be appreciated.’

‘Nobody wants to wind up murdering them for being annoying. Last thing we need is anyone at each other’s throats in possible hostile space.’

‘I don’t anticipate it being as bad as Commander Rourke seems to think – full weapons loadout and all of that. The House of Mo’Kai have a slightly more sophisticated agenda than attacking ships on sight, and we have the Vor’nak escorting us.’

‘Sure – I just mean we’ve got enough on our plates hunting the Wild Hunt as it is. I’ll defer to your expertise on Klingons.’

‘It’s not expertise,’ Valance said quickly. ‘I’m not “the Klingon officer”.’

Cortez watched her, and Valance tried not to squirm under the sudden assessment. ‘Didn’t think that at all,’ she said, a little stilted. ‘Just you know more than me, as I know basically nothing. I took Romulan as the Academy language req.’

‘That’s not why I assigned you. We’re tracking the Wild Hunt by their ships and if our trail goes cold, you’ve got the best chance of helping Thawn pick it back up again. You’re important here.’ Valance was, she thought, speaking faster than she meant.

‘But when we’re on Endeavour I’m not?’

‘I didn’t -’

‘That was a joke.’ Cortez winced. ‘Missed the mark. Uh, like I said. Gonna go check on Koya.’ She jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

Valance’s jaw snapped shut. ‘Yes, of course. Go ahead, Lieutenant.’ She tried to not watch her go, tried to keep her expression studious as if the engineer could see out the back of her head. Only when Cortez was gone did Valance slump to the door to the cockpit, rest her head against the doorframe, and let out a low, frustrated sigh.

She’d heard how Kharth had stopped Rourke from commanding this away mission, which would have left her with the ship. While she knew this was technically the right choice, Valance found it very easy to summon yet more acrimony towards Kharth for making that point, and putting her now in this position.

With these people.

‘Stay in our wake once we cross the border.’ The small image of Torkath on the King Arthur’s display looked confident even as he gave them, a Starfleet ship, orders. ‘Better to disguise your presence against all but the closest inspections. You’ve the right to be here under my protection, but there’s no point provoking.’

Valance nodded. ‘Are there many in the area who’ll be provoked?’

Torkath shrugged. It was too dismissive a response to such an important question; enough to make Valance glance at the cockpit’s sensors, though they would have pinged at any new threat. ‘None of us need a delay.’ He straightened. ‘We’re several days from our destination. Let me host you at my table for dinner tonight, Commander. Your officers can no doubt keep your ship flying straight in your absence.’

She reminded herself this was a common enough courtesy, and managed to not grit her teeth as she nodded. ‘Thank you. I would welcome the chance to talk.’ He’d be more forthcoming on the state of his stomping grounds in private.

‘Excellent. In the meantime, match our speed and course.’

‘Captain? HoD?’ Cortez sounded deeply unsure how to address Torkath as her head stuck up over Valance’s shoulder. ‘We’re matched to follow in your wake and yeah, it’ll disguise our warp signature a bit. But I noticed you’ve got a minor radiation leak from your port engine -’

‘We have need of some maintenance,’ Torkath said brusquely. ‘So long as we remain below Warp 8 it is of no danger or inconvenience.’

‘For sure. It’s a common problem with the B’Rel-class and it’s probably a killer for your stealth in cloak. Has your engineer tried doubling the antimatter compression rate in the injector coils? It’s an energy hog and not good for more than a temporary fix, but it should cut down the inefficiency causing the radiation -’

Valance lifted a hand. ‘Lieutenant, I’m sure they’ve thought of this.’

But the corner of Torkath’s lip curled in an amusement that showed fang. ‘My engineer is a cousin, young and new. He will welcome the opinion of one of Starfleet’s vaunted miracle workers. You should join us for dinner, Lieutenant…’

‘Cortez.’ She grinned. ‘That’d be great, HoD. Captain.’

‘Captain will suffice,’ said Torkath, still sounding amused. ‘Bring your notes. Batriq can learn a thing or two.’ He looked to Valance, and nodded. ‘Tonight.’

Cortez was still grinning when Valance turned in her seat to the rest of the cockpit. ‘Hey, I think he likes me.’

‘I had hoped,’ said Valance, trying to not sound too tense, ‘to press him on matters regarding the Mo’Kai in the region. He’ll hardly be forthcoming with a junior officer in the room.’

‘Oh.’ Cortez’s shoulders slumped. In the background, the other three transparently feigned interest in their duty stations, but then she brightened. ‘Easy. I’ll put him in a good mood over dinner, then at the end ask to go take a look at the engine room with this Batriq. He’ll be buttered up for you to ply for information.’

Drake clearly couldn’t help himself from drawling, ‘Butter up a Klingon, huh?’

‘Hey, I have been called charming many a time,’ she protested.

‘You’re not even sure what rank to call him.’

‘I think I got points for trying.’

Valance lifted her hands. ‘We’re here now. Maybe you’re right and it’ll put him in a good mood. Just… stick with charming and don’t blather.’

‘I hardly blather, Commander.’ Cortez looked like she was going to press on, then shut her mouth. ‘I’ll, uh. Do some reading. Hey, Elsa, you got any 101 on Klingon Etiquette?’

Lindgren was doing a bad job of hiding an amused smile. ‘I’ll see what I can dig out. Starting with terms of address. But I think in this case, ignorance is protecting you. He clearly doesn’t expect you to know better and I think it amuses him for you to be off-balance.’

‘You’re saying I’m winning points for looking like an idiot.’

‘Those were your words, not mine.’

Cortez rolled her eyes. ‘This is why you’re the etiquette officer, huh? Everyone’s a critic today.’

Six hours later, they dropped out of warp for ten seconds to allow transport between ships. Valance found her chest tightening as the bright, crisp surroundings of a Starfleet ship changed for the gloom and the metal, bloody tang of a Klingon vessel.

‘No wonder they can’t calibrate their antimatter compression,’ Cortez muttered next to her. ‘Can’t see a thing.’

A Klingon warrior waited at the foot of the transporter pad, burly even by the standards of her people, and lifted her chin at Cortez’s comment. ‘We can see much better in low light than humans. We also have excellent hearing.’ She advanced on Valance, extending a hand. ‘Sirel, Torkath’s first officer. I’m to show you to his quarters.’

Valance hesitated only a heartbeat before she clasped Sirel by the wrist and not the hand; a warrior’s greeting. ‘Commander Valance.’ Sirel gave the faintest huff at that, and Cortez had only a nod before the tall warrior led them through the gloomy passages of the Vor’nak.

A Bird-of-Prey was small enough that a captain did not easily have space to entertain. Valance had wondered if they would dine in the mess hall with the crew, but instead they found Torkath’s quarters prepared. Furniture had been pushed aside, including a furs-covered bed, and a sturdy wooden table she suspected was normally a desk dragged to the middle. The one chair had been supplemented with three low crates for seats, places set with cutlery that over-favoured knives, and platters laid out in the middle. Even in the gloom, Valance could see the slabs of meat and the writhing of gagh.

Torkath stood at the ‘head’ of the table before the one proper seat. A short, wiry Klingon sat at his left, and was slower to rise. ‘Commander Valance. Lieutenant Cortez. Welcome to the Vor’nak, and may I introduce Chief Engineer Batriq. Thank you, Sirel.’

The first officer left them, and Valance took the seat offered at Torkath’s right, Cortez taking the last seat. ‘Thank you, Lord Torkath. Your hospitality is generous.’

‘Hardly. The gagh is not as fresh as it might be. But the krada was slaughtered this morning.’ He reached for a jug, pouring bloodwine into their tankards before he sat. ‘You are my guests in Klingon territory. Old traditions hold that once you have partaken of my food and my drink, you are under my protection.’ He hefted his tankard. ‘So let us partake, and drink to a good hunt.’

Valance raised her own. ‘To the hunt.’

‘So I’ve never had bloodwine before,’ said Cortez, and slung back a mouthful. At once she coughed and sputtered, and had to thump her chest before she could speak in a hoarse voice. ‘It’s got a kick.’

Torkath and Batriq laughed. ‘I have found humans best drink in moderation,’ Torkath said. ‘Enjoy, but I know Batriq wants your wisdom later in the engine room.’

‘I do some of my best work under these conditions,’ said Cortez with a grin. And drank more bloodwine.

Torkath noticed Valance studying the food. ‘Do you require recommendations, Commander? Though I would say it is all good.’

‘I know my gagh and krada,’ said Valance, and helped herself to a sizable serving of both. She had never developed much fondness for gagh, but she hid that from Torkath as she shovelled in a handful with a practiced air.

He gave a smile that was all teeth. ‘Good. So tell me, Commander. It’s been some time since I spoke properly with my compatriot Matthew. How fares he?’

It took her a heartbeat to remember ‘Matthew’ was Rourke. ‘Truthfully I’ve not served with Commander Rourke for long. But he’s shown himself to be an able and eager fighter.’ She knew he would take it as a compliment even if she didn’t mean it.

‘Oh yeah,’ butted in Cortez. ‘The Commander’s a good guy. I know we’re going to kick these pirates around the sector by the time he’s done with them.’

Valance didn’t know if the engineer was serious or not, and looked back at Torkath. ‘How do you know him?’

‘He led a hunting party near the Orion Borderlands,’ said Torkath, and she had to mentally translate that to Rourke’s time leading a security investigation team a decade ago. ‘I served away from home at the time, uprooting Sovereignty of Kahless sympathisers. We fought together some years. He is a loyal and steadfast ally. You are lucky to offer your lives for him.’

‘Let’s not go too far,’ said Cortez, lifting a hand. ‘We’re still Starfleet. I think he’s supposed to offer his life for us.’

Torkath grinned. ‘Ah yes, that is the Starfleet way. To fend off death as long as you can, evade and outwit and slip through its grasp.’

‘Isn’t that the only way?’

‘We are all dead, Lieutenant. The warrior knows this, and accepts this. We do not fight if. We fight to have some command over when – and most importantly, what for.’

Cortez had a swig of bloodwine and kept this one down. ‘You must all be great at parties.’

‘We are. As until we die, we live. But I do not judge you, Lieutenant. Yours is the way of the famous Starfleet Engineers.’ Torkath jabbed his knife at Batriq before digging into his food. ‘The boy is curious.’

Batriq was, indeed, young, but visibly bristled at the comment. This irritation quickly gave way for a bubble of curiosity as he sat forward. ‘I wondered, Lieutenant – you talked about the antimatter as the cause of radiation -’

‘It is,’ said Cortez, chomping thoughtfully on gagh. ‘Hey, this is actually pretty good.’

‘Yes – but the radiation is leaking from core itself, after the reaction -’

‘Yeah, the reaction is what’s producing the radiation, but you can reduce it if you better compress the antimatter before it enters the chamber.’

Torkath gave Valance a sidelong smile as the engineers talked. ‘Children with their toys,’ he said, but he sounded fond rather than dismissive.

‘The Lieutenant is an expert of many years’ experience,’ said Valance, unsure why she was defending Cortez.

‘She does work I could not. I do work she could not. We are all part of the greater system of service in the glory of our masters.’ He shook his head as he impaled some gagh. ‘I am not the leader who denigrates those who do not fight. There are many battlefields.’

She glanced to Batriq. ‘It is not easy to fight the ones which do not need a blade. Not in the Empire.’

‘You have spent much time here, then?’

Valance tried to not curse internally, and cast a quick glance at Cortez, who was still deep in conversation with the engineer. ‘Some of my teenaged years, and again later.’

‘You claim a House, then?’

She hesitated. ‘My father is of the House of A’trok.’

Torkath’s eyebrows went up. ‘Indeed? The House is large. I expect I would not know him.’

‘I expect not. Their holdings are far from the worlds of K’Var.’

‘I have wandered in my time, and in my service to the Empire. But never to such sectors, no.’ He tore a hunk of meat from the bone with his teeth. ‘I cannot offer you such hospitality as you would have found in your grandsire’s halls.’

That was another probe, and Valance merely gave a level smile. ‘I understand the effort you have made here, Lord Torkath. We are grateful.’

He inclined his head, then topped up her tankard. ‘So. You have only lately served under Matthew. What of before then? I enjoy Starfleet tales; you approach challenges so differently.’

To her relief, ‘differently’ did not sound like a condemnation. But Valance was still cautious in which story to tell, keeping her tales strictly to the missions of Endeavour from the last three years.

‘Wow,’ said Cortez when she’d finished relaying one rough negotiation MacCallister had narrowly averted turning into a firefight. ‘I’m sorry I never met the old man.’

‘If you’re to be Chief Engineer on Endeavour for the long-term,’ said Valance, ‘then you will, once he’s back.’

Cortez watched her a minute, then drained her Bloodwine. ‘Hey, Batriq, how about we go take a look at the antimatter compression coils? Before all this goes to my head.’ She nodded to Torkath. ‘Uh, by your leave or what have you, Captain.’

Torkath gave an indulgent smile. ‘Please, Lieutenant. Show the boy your miracles.’ His smile remained as the two left, but grew more thoughtful when the door shut. ‘It will do him well,’ he mused. ‘Your Cortez is clearly unashamed to be good and thoughtful in her work. I hope this brushes off on him; too many young craftsmen doubt themselves for not being warriors.’

‘She is… confident,’ Valance agreed, choosing to ignore, ‘your Cortez,’ as a turn of phrase. Now it was her turn to reach for the jug and refill his tankard. ‘And that need for the young to prove themselves martially has caused no end of trouble.’

‘Is that Starfleet’s assessment?’ Torkath cocked his head.

She sipped her Bloodwine. ‘I saw enough of the Empire’s struggles with the Sovereignty to see it myself.’

He harrumphed. ‘The Sovereignty were mad dogs. They had no vision for the future, merely dissatisfaction with what they had. They offered no real solutions.’

‘And caused no end of trouble.’

His lip curled. ‘The Mo’Kai were trouble long before the Sovereignty, and will be trouble long after you and I are both dead. Now – do not be so generous, Commander. There is more than enough Bloodwine for us both.’

She met his gaze as he filled her tankard, as she had his. ‘What have they been doing in this sector?’ she asked at last, blunt.

Now he grinned a grin that was all fangs. ‘Their darkest iniquity of all, Commander. They have made friends.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘We have had our share of troubles in K’Var space, pirates like your Wild Hunt. They are the ones who prey on the traders and workers. The Mo’Kai targets them, and the Mo’Kai targets my ships, and the people of these worlds see my people failing to protect them where the Mo’Kai succeed. But what they do not see are Mo’Kai resources poured into the accounts of these vultures.’

‘They’re using third parties to destabilise the region, then capitalising when it makes you look weak?’

‘This is what happens when Klingons value only warriors with blades and disruptors. We do not see when we are being toyed with by shadows in the dark. Beware T’lhab Station, Commander. If you do not find shadows there, you will find the shadows’ friends.’

‘That’s what you get out of this,’ she said. ‘The hope I uproot connections between pirates and the Mo’Kai, all without you getting your hands dirty.’

Torkath lay his hand on the table, palm up, and she could see a long scar across it. ‘You do not respect Matthew,’ he said. ‘Do not try to deny it; I read it in your polite, Starfleet indifference, when your heart burnt when you spoke of Captain MacCallister. And your heart burns Klingon enough that you know what this is.’

She looked at the scar. ‘A blood oath.’

‘He saved my life ten years ago. At risk to himself, his mission, and his people. I was not one of his, yet he fought for me like I was. And so we swore an oath in blood that made me one of his, and him one of mine.’ He drew his hand back. ‘That is what I “get” out of this, Commander. I think you know us better than you pretend, but you have been away from the Empire too long if you think I am here for any reason but honour and friendship. And if Matthew sent you, he knows you will do as he would. Not because the Mo’Kai are a threat to Starfleet. But because they are a threat.’

He slammed the hand on the table, then drained his tankard. ‘Come. It is late. Let us return you and your engineer.’

When they found Cortez and Batriq down in the engine room, Valance knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d expected the additional Bloodwine. She hadn’t expected the singing.

‘It were a cultural exchange,’ Cortez slurred as they staggered towards the transporter. ‘I taught him engineering. He taught me drinking.’ She staggered, and Valance had to hold her up by the shoulder.

‘And singing.’

‘Not sure that was teaching. Let’s not kid ourselves. Weren’t good singing. But thought I were a pro at drinkin’ til I met Klingons.’

Valance had to keep her upright when they entered the Vor’nak’s transporter room. They’d dropped out of warp, and Torkath himself took to the transporter controls. ‘We will speak soon, Commander. Thank you for your company.’

‘And you for your hospitality, Lord Torkath.’

‘An’ thank Batriq,’ Cortez tried to say. ‘The little shit kept topping up my tankard. Think he was trying to steal Federation engineering secrets. Joke’s on him, he didn’t understand them.’

Valance cringed, but Torkath just laughed. ‘You have been a pleasure, Lieutenant. Enjoy the morning.’

The lights of the King Arthur felt bright when they appeared on the pad behind the cockpit. Drake was the only one there, managing their drop out of warp for the exchange, and he spun slowly on his chair to regard them. ‘Rough crowd?’

‘She went drinking with their engineer.’

‘Cultural exchange,’ Cortez repeated, went to step off the pad, and would have fallen if Valance hadn’t grabbed her again.

Drake stood. ‘I’ll sling her in the bunkroom.’

‘It’s fine, Lieutenant,’ said Valance, not releasing the hold. ‘Get us back to warp and on track. I’m not fit to do it myself.’ It wouldn’t be hard to do as she’d commanded, even after a few tankards of Bloodwine, but it was definitely against regulation.

Besides, Drake wouldn’t have an easy time getting Cortez down the ladder. In the end, Valance had to go down first and wait expectantly for Cortez to try to descend, slip, and fall. It wasn’t so high to be a problem, but Cortez was like a sack at this point and Valance ended up slinging an arm under hers and half-dragging her.

Lindgren and Thawn were on the lower deck, watching a show on the far screen. Thawn looked gently scandalised, but Lindgren just gave a small smile. ‘Need any help, Commander?’

‘As you were, Ensign,’ Valance sighed, and hauled a gently-protesting Cortez into the bunkroom she shared with Drake. Mercifully, hers was the lower bunk, and the engineer was easy to tip into her bed.

‘M’sorry, Commander,’ Cortez slurred once flat on her back. ‘Really didn’t mean to get like this. Only had a couple of drinks.’

‘It’s Bloodwine, Lieutenant. It goes to your head.’ Valance perched on the bed and began to pull off the engineer’s boots. ‘It’s a learning experience every human I’ve ever seen go near Klingons has at some point. You’re in good company.’

‘Didn’t wanna embarrass you -’

‘You didn’t. Torkath likes you. Batriq wouldn’t have given you drinks if he didn’t like you.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘You’re a good diplomat for Starfleet.’

‘I try to be. Try to be fun and smart, ‘stead of academic an’ stuck in the mud, or apologetic fer usin’ my brain once in a while.’ Cortez threw her arm over her face. ‘Shit, s’bright.’

‘Computer, dim lights to 25%.’

‘S’better.’ Cortez groaned, lowering her arm. ‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t thank me. Thank whoever takes pity on you in the morning.’

She groaned again, then opened one rueful eye. ‘I didn’t mean it. About Klingons being drinking pros.’

Valance frowned. ‘The physiological advantage is undeniable.’

‘Sure, but – it weren’t a criticism or the like.’

Realisation dawned. ‘Lieutenant, I’ve accepted your apology. We had a misunderstanding,’ Valance said slowly, awkwardly, preferring to not think about that conversation. ‘I don’t believe you’re prejudiced.’

‘Good, ‘cos I want you to like me,’ slurred Cortez, then jolted upright. ‘I don’t mean like that – I want you to not dislike me, not just ‘cos we’ve gotta work together, but you’re also very cool and we – ah, jeez…’

They were closer now, both sat up on the bunk in the dim lighting, but Valance had to give a low laugh. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m not laughing at you. You can relax, Cortez. We’re fine.’

The engineer regarded her a moment. ‘Are you really fine with anyone, Commander? I know you and Airex got that buddy thing going on but he seems like the only one an’ he ain’t exactly the most expressive himself. You just seem… lonely.’

In vino veritas, Valance had been told before. But she hadn’t expected the inebriated to expose truths about her. She reached for Cortez’s shoulder – and gently, but firmly, pushed her back. ‘Get some sleep.’

‘S’what I thought,’ said Cortez, and slumped back. ‘You should try people, Commander. They’re good for you.’

Valance hesitated. ‘I’m not good with them,’ she said, because it was only easy to say in the dark, talking to someone who wouldn’t remember in the morning.

‘Better ‘n you think. Reckon you don’t know the effect you have on people. ‘Cos you’re… impressive.’

It was easier to stare at the wall than look at her. ‘I suppose that helps keep people away,’ Valance mused. ‘Doesn’t it. Than to be known.’ But there was no answer, and she looked over to see Cortez had, in the long silence and gloom and alcohol, drifted to sleep. ‘Yeah,’ she sighed. ‘Bloodwine will do that.’

Lindgren looked up from their comfy seat when she exited the bunkroom. ‘She’s going to be good company in the morning.’

Valance shrugged. ‘She’ll be Drake’s problem.’

‘I like that,’ decided Thawn, and nodded at the screen. ‘Join us, Commander?’

Valance squinted. ‘What is it?’

‘Oh, it’s awful,’ said Lindgren cheerfully. ‘Tycho City Skies, it’s a dumb comfort drama.’

She opened her mouth to politely decline, but at once Cortez’s words came back. You should try people, Commander. Her shoulders slumped. ‘With a riveting recommendation like that, how can I refuse? But I’m getting another drink.’

‘We’re still about ten hours out,’ said Drake at the sound of boots on the ladder up. ‘All going fine.’

‘Excellent.’ He’d expected Valance, so scowled when he heard Thawn’s voice. ‘I need access to the navigational sensors.’

He kept his gaze on the controls. ‘You know where they are.’

‘I mean I’m going to have to take some control of them,’ she said, slipping into the co-pilot’s chair.

‘Why?’

‘Commander’s orders.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘So it can’t possibly be explained to me. I should just fly the ship and be quiet.’

‘I think that’s what you’re here for.’

At last he spun in his chair to face her. ‘Seriously. What’s your problem with me?’

Thawn pursed her lips, but he could tell she was only pretending to focus on her work instead of him. ‘Where should I start?’

‘Maybe with an answer? Just because you’ve worked with Valance longer doesn’t mean she’s going to cut you any slack for being snooty.’

‘I’m not being snooty. Rourke might find you charming, but to everyone else you’re unprofessional.’

He bristled. ‘What’ve I done that’s unprofessional? And don’t say “started this fight,” because you get chewed out for this bickering just as much as me.’

‘You were late -’

‘On my first day because my transport was running late; hell. Get new material.’

He saw her eyes dart from side to side. ‘You shouldn’t have a drink on your console.’

Drake looked at his steaming latte. ‘That’s – we’re not about to hit trouble -’

‘You never know when trouble will hit.’

‘And if that’s the case, you’re not buckled in for turbulence,’ he snapped. ‘Nobody cares.’

‘I care.’

‘No, you’re nitpicking.’

She shifted in her chair. ‘I have work to do.’

‘Fine. Then tell me why you need to manipulate the navigational sensors while we’re in potentially hostile territory.’

She looked like she knew she didn’t have a good answer to that after calling him out on his drink. ‘Commander Valance wants me to run further traces on the Wild Hunt warp signatures as we enter space lanes with more traffic. I’m running on extrapolations only by now.’

‘Oh, well. That sounds important,’ Drake said, though wondered why they were bothering when they had a destination. ‘I’ll let you work.’ So he of course turned on his music. It wasn’t loud, but he picked the tunes with a thumping and irregular beat.

She lasted longer than he expected. It took almost a hundred seconds before she turned, glowering. ‘Could you let me work, please, for just five minutes.’

‘I don’t know,’ mused Drake. ‘Can you stop giving me shit for five minutes?’

‘I know you think you’re just retaliating,’ she snapped. ‘But you realise you’re proving my point?’

‘If you don’t expect anything better of me, why should I try?’

‘This is a whole new level of childish!’

Drake turned off the music, not because he thought she was right, but because he knew she could easily spin this to their superiors with him being the bad guy. ‘There. Maybe next time you won’t come in giving me attitude from the start. Now, what do you need?’

‘I don’t need your help, I’ve been handling this data for weeks -’

‘But you don’t know the navigational sensors on this runabout as well as I do,’ he said, reaching to refine her modulations. ‘That should cut down the background signatures from stellar radiation.’ He glanced at her. ‘Yeah, I’m not just a flyboy, try to not have an aneurysm.’

She didn’t answer that for a moment, merely looked at her console and made an annoyed noise. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Thawn sighed. ‘I’m still not picking up anything new. We’ve been on extrapolations for the last twelve hours and I’ve not picked up the trail.’

‘Is that a problem? We’re more than halfway to T’lhab.’

‘If they’re not there, then I’ve lost the signal and we’ve come all this way for nothing.’

Drake cast her a sidelong glance, and found at last an expression which was not irritation at him, but troubled frustration with her work. ‘We knew we might lose them,’ he said, still not understanding. ‘It’s why we’re headed to the station. You’ve confirmed they’ve been in this area; if anyone knows where they were, it’ll be these guys.’

‘Will it? There’s no reason for them to stop off, or even be noticed -’

‘T’lhab is a spacer port, right? Civilians and scum.’ He turned his chair to face her. ‘Most spacers don’t live on giant Starfleet ships. They live in cramped, shared spaces, where any opportunity to stretch their legs and see different faces and maybe get some privacy is essential. Wild Hunt use Blackbirds; no way the crew don’t want a break if they can have one. That’s ignoring if they don’t have business at T’lhab, which looks like the only reason they’d come this way. They’re Federation-built ships, so any paranoid spacer in the area who’s docked at T’lhab is going to take notice. Ignoring if they’ve done anything that gets their attention.’ He’d found himself speaking in a slower, more calming voice and watched it have an affect, watched her shoulders relax an iota.

‘Well,’ said Thawn at last, and brushed a lock of red hair behind an ear. ‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe,’ he repeated, lip curling. ‘I’ll take that as, “You’re right, Connor, you’re so wise but I couldn’t possibly say.’”

She scoffed and stood. ‘I couldn’t possibly say. Go play your awful music, I’ll tell the Commander our ETA.’

‘How’s Cortez?’

‘She might be dead.’

‘So, lesson learnt. Don’t go drinking with Valance. She’ll get you wrecked then deny you medical attention.’ Lieutenant Cortez’s hangover was threatening to last several days. Drake felt this confirmed his suspicions Valance was wild beneath the surface, and no assurances from Lindgren had corrected his preferred belief that the Vor’nak had hosted a crazed party.

On long-distance assignments, he had to make up his own fun.

* *

‘Dropping out of warp,’ said Drake, and Valance leaned back in the command chair of the King Arthur’s cockpit, watching data stream onto her panels as they ended their faster-than-light defiance of space-time. ‘Lot of traffic here.’

‘That’s to be expected,’ said Valance, and looked to the front as the hulking shape of T’lhab Station rose to, if not fill, then certainly claim more of the view than anything else. It was still a speck no bigger than her thumb, but the ships milling about its space-lanes were ants in comparison. From here, sensors showed that while most of the ships in the area were Klingon in design, some were not, and none already here were KDF. Armed, likely. But their affiliation was more unclear.

‘We’re being hailed,’ said Lindgren. ‘It’s a comm to us and the Vor’nak, from the station.’

‘Put it through.’

Only Valance’s display panel changed, giving a split-screen image of Torkath and a heavy-set, older Klingon warrior. ‘I am Bak’tan, son of Ch’vog, of the Jajvam Brethren. T’lhab Station stands under my protection. The armed forces of the House of K’Var and the Federation are not needed here.’

Valance sat up, keen to intervene before Klingon politics deepened. ‘I’m Commander Valance of the USS Endeavour. My team and I simply wish to visit T’lhab Station. We’re on Starfleet business and looking for someone. We only want to talk.’

Bak’tan looked at her steadily. ‘Commander Valance. Indeed.’ It was difficult to tell on a screen if he looked at her ridges, but she felt he did. Then his gaze was on Torkath. ‘And you, son of K’Var.’

‘My reputation precedes me,’ Torkath drawled. ‘Commander Valance and her team are under my protection.’

‘Unacceptable,’ said Bak’tan. ‘If your ship draws closer, if your people board, too many here will take this as a sign of your House, of the KDF, asserting its power where it is not welcome. Your involvement is a challenge, Lord Torkath.’

‘I come not to challenge, unless you and yours would make me a liar by endangering Commander Valance where I could not aid them.’

‘My quarrel, and the quarrel of any here, is not with Starfleet. But we will not let you place soldiers on our decks for your agreements with the Federation. We care nothing for those. Bring your ship no closer, Lord Torkath, or the Brethren will take this as a sign of aggression.’

‘I am sworn -’

‘We’re all people of our word,’ Valance butted in. ‘Lord Torkath has indeed promised my commander he shall keep us safe. My commander has been obligated to trust this, and cede his responsibility towards us to Lord Torkath. And so, Commander Bak’tan, are you prepared to swear to our safety on your station, so Lord Torkath can cede his responsibility in turn?’

Torkath scowled. ‘To set foot on that station without our aid -’

‘Is to accept the hospitality of Commander Bak’tan,’ Valance said smoothly. ‘And trust in the honour of the Jajvam Brethren.’

Bak’tan watched a moment. Then laughed. ‘Wily, Commander. Many would assume only the Great Houses and their vassals have honour worth recognising. You have my word, Lord Torkath, that the Starfleet visitors will have the protection of the Brethren while they are on this station. We do not hold with reckless violence or outside conflicts here. Here, many are welcome.’

Torkath grunted. ‘Many, even the lowliest.’

‘And yet the House of K’Var must keep their ship at their current distance,’ Bak’tan retorted. ‘Your ship is free to dock, Commander Valance. Station control transmitting instructions. We shall speak soon, I have no doubt.’

His display went dead, and Valance was left with the accusing eyes of Torkath. She shrugged. ‘Thank you for bringing us this far, Lord Torkath. From here we -’

‘We will wait for you,’ Torkath said bluntly. ‘Sound an alert if you need assistance. Whatever the Brethren want, we will answer if called.’

‘I’ll do my best to not cause you upset in your own sector,’ said Valance. ‘I know you have to do business with the Brethren.’

‘They are a glorified title for a band of warriors with no House that will claim them,’ Torkath said. ‘Be cautious of trusting in their honour. We will wait. Vor’nak out.’

Valance slumped back in her chair and rubbed her temples. ‘I hate Klingon politics.’

Drake looked back at her. ‘I guess I missed subtext.’

‘Nothing too complicated. A Great House like K’Var has a very low opinion of a gathering like the Brethren. Klingon honour is ostensibly about the individual, but then it extends to those closest to the individual, usually their family. And when you have disparity in the power and image of different families, that’s how you get a class system wherein those with the least power and lowest birth are considered literally less Klingon because they can’t call on the honour of those around them to improve their standing and image.’

‘And I bet every member of every Great House is just a stand-up sort of guy,’ Drake drawled.

‘Quite.’ She stood and looked at her team. ‘But we’ll see what we find. Lieutenant Drake, bring us in to dock at T’lhab Station. You know your way around places like this?’

He brightened. ‘Not normally this Klingon. But these kinds of hubs are all the same.’ He pointed out the canopy at the gathered vessels. ‘See, you’ve got more than just Klingons – that’s a Ferengi ship, some Talarians, couple of Orion ships -’

But he stopped, and Valance looked down. ‘What is it?’

For a moment it looked like Drake was going to obfuscate. ‘I, uh. I should stay aboard.’

‘Recognised someone?’

He sighed. ‘See that little skimmer there? That’s an Orion scout ship, the Celebrant. There’s a small chance her crew will try to shoot me in the head if they see me.’

Thawn’s eyebrows hit her hairline. ‘What did you do?’

‘Hey, having a bunch of Orion pirates who want to shoot me on sight isn’t a badge of dishonour, but…’ Drake winced. ‘I don’t think this is trouble you need.’

‘No,’ said Valance, impressed despite herself at how forthcoming he was. ‘I appreciate the warning, Lieutenant. We’ll keep you benched; stay on the ship with Lieutenant Thawn.’ She caught their flinches and sighed. ‘Lieutenant Thawn, keep on analysing the data, and pipe it to us as we search. I want us able to ask the most up-to-date questions.’

‘Us?’ said Cortez, slumped in a corner. ‘I hope you mean “you and Elsa,” while I go find a small hole to die in?’

‘No such luck, Lieutenant. Both of you are with me.’ She paused. ‘Go get yourself a detoxicant from the medkit. I want you sharp.’

‘I’m sure there’ll be a lot of engines to deal with,’ Cortez groaned, staggering to her feet.

‘I’d have left you here to help Thawn, but Drake needs to keep his head down. Besides, we may have to make some trades for information, but we’re in sketchy territory giving out equipment, so you might be useful.’

‘To be sold into slavery?’

Valance sighed. ‘Some people will give a lot to have a Starfleet Engineer look at their engines. Just stay off the Bloodwine.’

‘That’s already gonna be written on my tombstone, don’t worry.’

Valance looked at Lindgren as Cortez left. ‘I expect a diverse crowd on this station. We’re close enough to the border, and this is where the unwanted will go to ground.’

Lindgren gave a small smile. ‘I’ll bring my tongue, I suppose,’ then at once lifted a hand to Drake. ‘Yes, I know how that sounded.’

He smirked. ‘I wasn’t gonna say a thing.’

Thawn rolled her eyes. ‘Commander, permission to -’

‘Denied,’ said Valance. ‘Whatever it is.’ She looked at Lindgren, Thawn too shocked to respond, and nodded to the ladder. ‘We should change. Away team attire.’

Lindgren looked keen to leave the cockpit. ‘Do you think we’ll have a ship to come back to with those two left alone?’ she murmured as they reached the ladder.

‘I’m hoping only one of them is left,’ said Valance. ‘Then the winner might give us some peace and quiet. We’re in Klingon space. I can afford to dabble a little in Klingon conflict resolution.’

‘I expected more Klingons,’ said Cortez, trying to not be surly as she felt the drugs from the medkit purge the lingering hangover from her system. It did not feel as good as it should have.

‘The Klingon Empire is more cosmopolitan than most in the Federation assume,’ said Valance, leading the way as the three wound through the dim-lit corridors of T’lhab Station’s docking ring. ‘Think of the area it dominates, the vast numbers of systems and worlds. Of course people were once living there. They’re now subjects of the empire. Most of them are left much to their own devices so long as they pay taxes to the House that rules them and obey imperial law.’

‘The empire isn’t my area of expertise,’ said Lindgren, keeping quite close to Cortez; the engineer wondered what she was supposed to do about trouble if it started. ‘But isn’t there quite a lot of cultural integration and homogenisation?’

Valance gave a gentle huff. ‘Yes. Klingons are not known for their tolerance of the Other.’

Arranging docking at the last minute made them bottom of the priority list, so they had quite a hike to the habitat wing of the station. Cortez had thought the Vor’nak boasted the finest features of Klingon engineering, all gloomy lights and safety procedures that would make her Academy tutors have fits. Now she realised how naive she’d been. Bereft of the resources or accountability of a starship of a Great House, T’lhab Station played fast and loose with safety, function, and cleanliness. They passed more than their share of open panels, dangerous circuitry, and non-functioning systems.

‘You were wrong to bring me as an engineer,’ she said to Valance’s back. ‘You’ll only be able to barter my skills if I don’t have an aneurysm about the state of this place first. Is this a form of imperial population control?’

‘I brought you for trade, yes,’ Valance confirmed, ‘and now you’re definitely not allowed to talk.’

Cortez opened her mouth to protest that she was great with people, then remembered she didn’t have a leg to stand on with the commander.

It was better in the habitat wing. While the busy crowds of Klingons and then dozens of species she either didn’t or barely recognised made progress difficult, they didn’t stand out in their uniforms as badly as she’d expected because of the low lights, the dense crush, and the fact that, here, she realised Starfleet weren’t what anyone looked for. Valance took a sweeping look through the marketplace and, a head taller than either of the others, nodded in a direction they could barely see. ‘This way.’

‘Oh,’ said Cortez. ‘Is that the local information booth so we can ask if asshole pirates stopped by?’ She was rewarded with a giggle from Lindgren and being utterly ignored by Valance.

‘They’ll have needed repairs after Lockstowe,’ she said. ‘Likely including new components. The dockmaster keeps a shop front here to arrange that work and purchasing.’

‘Great, you might be able to sell me after all,’ Cortez piped up. Why, she asked herself. Why am I like this?

The staffer at the dockmaster’s booth was a humanoid of a species Cortez didn’t recognise, face marked with intricate tattoos, so she carried on keeping her mouth shut. Valance went to advance, but it was Lindgren who stepped in. ‘Let me try, Commander.’

The sleepy-eyed staffer barely looked up from their PADDs at the approach. ‘There’s a three-day waiting period for maintenance work, if you’ve just arrived and didn’t book in.’

‘That’s okay,’ said Lindgren in a light, sweet voice. ‘We’re not trying to book work.’

Heavy eyes lifted. ‘Huh. Starfleet.’

‘Not the troublesome kind. But we thought you could help, Honoured Cha’dren.’

His gaze turned a mixture of appreciative and suspicious. ‘Not many around who’d recognise these tattoos. But yeah. To-Ran, of the Arton Clan. Whatever that means these days.’

‘I joined my last captain on negotiations to support a group of Gatherers near Nimba Tredol,’ Lindgren said in that same mild voice. ‘It was enlightening. I understand why you might not want to just go back to Acamar.’

‘Nothing is special,’ grumbled To-Ran, ‘if everyone’s the same. I didn’t expect sympathy on that from the Federation.’

‘We don’t assume that what works for us works for everyone.’ She kept her smile. ‘I’m Ensign Lindgren; our runabout only just got in.’

‘Then if you don’t need work done on your ship, I might be able to help. Depending on what you need.’

‘We’re looking for someone. They would have arrived only in the last few days; all or mostly humans, Federation-design civilian Blackbirds, we think two to four of them. They -’

‘Yeah, yeah. Them.’

Lindgren brightened. ‘You’ve seen them?’

‘They’ve been and gone, m’afraid. Got their work fast-tracked by friends in high places.’

‘The Brethren?’

To-Ran shifted his feet. ‘Everything here needs the Brethren’s go-ahead. That’s how the station works. Bak’tan’s a decent man, runs things fairly. But he doesn’t call all the shots. These folks you’re looking for – they’re bad news, right?’

‘They’re criminals against the Federation. We’re not looking to take them down here or cause trouble,’ Lindgren assured. ‘We just need to find them.’

‘Then I’ve got more bad news. Bak’tan isn’t protecting them – word in the market’s that he thinks they’ll bring trouble, because if this keeps up we bet it’ll be more than one Starfleet runabout, right? But Korta’s a Klingon warrior in the Brethren, and he helps them. Signs the work orders, fast-tracks them, all that.’

‘Why?’

To-Ran shrugged. ‘No idea. Look, I like my job here. I’m not about to stir up trouble against someone like Korta.’ He hesitated. ‘If you want to ask those questions, ask the Orions.’

‘The Orions?’

‘Crew of the Lancing Juggernaut. Mercs. Big and brash, and Bak’tan likes them. They don’t like Korta. Balance of power on this station is delicate – everyone will turn on them if they challenge Korta – but nobody’s going to touch them if they say bad words about him.’ To-Ran winced. ‘More freedom than I got.’

Valance stepped up beside Lindgren. ‘Where can we find them?’

‘The Jugs? Main bar, the Cluster. You’ll know them when you see them.’ He looked her up and down. ‘They won’t like you. Klingon Starfleet. Double distrust.’ He glanced back at Lindgren. ‘And I wouldn’t go without backup, Miss. You seem a nice lass. They’re rough.’

‘I’m tough,’ said the petite Lindgren.

Cortez appeared at her shoulder. ‘Do they like engineers?’

The Cluster was the biggest drinking establishment of T’lhab Station, dark and sticky and smelling of sweat. The bottles behind the bar didn’t look clean, but they sent Valance to wait there anyway, and Cortez regarded the rest of the crowded bar. It was not difficult to spot the group of rowdy Orions.

‘I don’t speak Orion,’ she admitted to Lindgren, suddenly panicked.

‘We have translators. It’ll be fine. Be friendly.’

‘How do I even begin this?’

‘Polite honesty works a lot better in these negotiations than people think. That’s what Captain MacCallister used to say anyway.’

Didn’t he get blown up? But even Cortez knew to not say that.

What she did know to say when she sauntered up to the large mob of rowdy Orions was, ‘Hey, folks, I’m looking for dirt on this Korta fellow; I hear you think he’s a bit shady?’ That at least brought silence. She thought she heard Lindgren’s soul die behind her.

A burly Orion got to his feet. Another looked set to stand, but he waved him down with a curt gesture. ‘Starfleet.’

Cortez grinned. ‘Lancing Juggernaut.’

‘We’re not in the business of helping Starfleet.’

‘That’s okay. I don’t want much. This seat taken? It doesn’t look taken.’ She dragged up the nearest stool and perched at the table. ‘Hey, Elsa – go tell the Commander to order everyone here a new round, right? Whatever they want.’ Lindgren looked from Cortez to the Orion. Then squeaked and left. Cortez waved an indifferent hand. ‘She’s just shy. I’m Cortez, by the way. Starfleet Engineer.’

The Orion looked like he didn’t know what to do with her, which was what she’d hoped for. At last he sat. ‘The drinks do not buy you our favour.’

‘Do I get time? And maybe not being punched?’

A faint snort. ‘Maybe.’

‘I’ll take maybe.’ She shrugged. ‘Look, I’m not a negotiator – I work for a living, you know?’ That earned a few more snorts about the table, which she figured was good. She could do jester easier than diplomat. ‘So I’ll cut to the chase: my team are hunting the Wild Hunt, the humans flying around in armed Blackbirds apparently protected here by a fella called Korta. One you’ve got a problem with.’

‘We got a problem with a lot of people,’ the Orion said.

‘Yes, but between me and Korta, which of us has brought you all drinks?’ And by sheer luck, that was when the bartender arrived with a heaving tray. Cortez noted that Lindgren did not rejoin her.

The Orion leader looked at the large tankard set before him, and had a swig. ‘Call me Olgren. So you think Korta’s looking after humans?’

‘Human pirates. You know them?’

A shrug. ‘Sorta. No real surprise that he’s helping them out, though, is it.’

‘Why?’

‘Suits him to keep the Federation on the back foot by helping your enemies. Truth be told, that sorta helps us, so don’t know why we should help you.’

Another Orion scoffed. ‘Come on, Olgren, if they can mess up Korta, don’t that suit us?’

‘Exactly!’ Cortez grinned. ‘There’s a human saying: the enemy of my enemy is my friend. What does Korta do to you anyway?’

‘Our problems with him are well-known,’ said Olgren. ‘He wants to run all merc business along this border. Except we don’t want to do what he says. Rivals, innit.’

‘Someone’s suggested that there’s stuff people don’t dare say about him.’

‘You don’t know?’ He squinted. ‘He’s a flunky of the Mo’Kai.’

Her eyebrows went up. ‘Oh, shit.’

‘Yeah, that’s why he wants to run this area. Always was part of the Brethren, but then the Mo’Kai got all aggro and must have bought him, or he’s got family – you know what Klingons are like.’

Cortez, once accused of being a bigot against Klingons and very keen to not repeat this, just gave an awkward laugh. ‘How do you know this?’

‘Oh, everyone knows it. But Klingons, right? Korta just keeps saying that anyone accusing him of this is impounding his honour, or whatever, and challenges them to a fight.’

She squinted. ‘Wait, the Brethren don’t need evidence?’

‘Klingon justice on the borderlands. Make the accusation, back it up with a bat’leth. ‘Course, Korta’s a brilliant fighter and knows how to handle a bat’leth better than any of us,’ Olgren grumbled. ‘Can’t bring a knife to a sword fight.’

‘Is it a fight to the death?’

‘If Korta’s winning, yeah. And if someone challenges him and is winning… uh, they should definitely kill him even if he yields, or he’ll come back for you. But you’re not gonna do that, little Engineer.’

The pat on her arm almost knocked her out of her chair, but it came with one of the drinks being shoved over to her, and with a sinking feeling of her hangover in her gut, Cortez reached for the tankard.

An hour later she staggered back to the corner of the Cluster, where Valance and Lindgren sat at the bar trying to be inconspicuous. She swayed as she grabbed a bar stool. ‘So, bad news and good news.’ She fought very hard to not slur as she explained that the Wild Hunt were backed by a leader of the Brethren who was an agent of the Mo’Kai.

‘At the very least,’ said Lindgren quietly, ‘we can use this to convince Starfleet to send more resources? If the Wild Hunt are at least in an alliance with the Mo’Kai?’

‘That doesn’t resolve matters here,’ said Valance. ‘We should speak with Torkath, perhaps he can do something about this.’

‘But if the KDF board or get involved, that’ll start a fight,’ said Lindgren. ‘Maybe we can make an appeal to Bak’tan?’

‘Apparently everyone knows,’ slurred Cortez. ‘That’s what Olgren and Big Kitta were saying back there.’ Big Kitta was the one who’d initially supported helping her, and was, of course, the smallest of the crew of the Juggernaut. ‘It’s just nobody can do anything about it without getting duelled to the death by Korta.’

‘While it would be good to stop an agent of the Mo’Kai operating so near the borders,’ said Valance, ‘what we really want is information. If Korta’s an ally of theirs, he may know where the Wild Hunt make their berth. The reports from the dockmaster suggested this isn’t their permanent base.’

‘Nah, they have to have supplies and docks somewhere to do more serious repairs,’ Cortez agreed, then looked at Valance. ‘Please don’t think I’m being racist.’

‘That’s always an excellent start, Lieutenant.’

‘But can’t you beat up Korta? I’m only suggesting this because you seem like an enormous badass who knows how to handle all the… Klingon-ness.’

Valance looked away, into the shadows of the bar. ‘That’s not an option. We’re Starfleet. We won’t handle this by “proving” someone’s guilt in a brawl. What if the Orions are wrong?’

You only raised that now, Cortez thought, when it suits your argument. But considering the ice she’d perpetually been on with Valance, this was not a point she wanted to press.

‘So in conclusion,’ said Valance after a heartbeat. ‘We don’t know a great deal. And we need a new plan.’

Cortez managed to catch Lindgren’s eye, managed to convey a questioning air. But the way the young officer shook her head in response made it very clear: this was not a fight either one of them would be championing.

‘I think,’ said Cortez, looking up at the hallway leading to the heart of T’lhab Station, ‘we’re back to you doing the talking, Commander.’

‘I know.’ Valance’s jaw was tight. ‘This is what I was afraid of.’

Cortez and Lindgren exchanged glances. ‘You’re a good diplomat,’ Lindgren started to say.

‘I’m a Starfleet officer, and this is a Starfleet mission,’ said Valance. ‘That’s not how they’ll try to negotiate with me.’

‘Maybe,’ said Cortez before she could think, ‘we could get you a really big hat -’

Thankfully, a tall Klingon warrior opened the double doors ahead before Valance could rip into her for that. His armour was more mismatched than that of the crew of the Vor’nak, more battered and piecemeal. He gave a half-bow. ‘Bak’tan will see you.’

They followed. Cortez had never seen the chambers of a Klingon house before, but she knew how ship design worked. This station had been built with this grand, circular hub at its heart, lowered edges stepping up to a great chair upon a dais. The round room was shrouded in shadows, but Klingons sat on low stools or crates on the levels below the central dais. Banners hung from the rafters, battered cloth boasting a half-dozen sigils. In the centre, above the chair, hung the largest and widest boasting the sigil of the Jajvam Brethren.

She had seen Bak’tan on the screen when they’d arrived at T’lhab, but he was a wider man than she’d expected, in the gut as well as the shoulder; a stooped, grey-haired and bearded figure well past his prime. The doors slammed shut behind them, and she managed to not jump at that, or at Bak’tan’s booming voice. ‘You are granted an audience.’

Cortez went to advance, but Lindgren stopped her with a light touch at the arm. Two younger Klingons approached, one holding a tray of ivory beakers, the other a wooden bowl it took her a moment to realise held gagh. Valance didn’t bat an eyelid, drinking from a beaker and eating only a pinch of the gagh, then Cortez and Lindgren followed suit.

‘Advance,’ came Bak’tan’s voice.

‘We’ve had food and drink under his hospitality,’ Lindgren whispered to Cortez as they walked. ‘That gives us guest right, and his protection.’

‘Oh; Torkath did something similar but that was the actual meal. I thought he was being polite -’

‘Commander Valance of Starfleet.’ Bak’tan looked them up and down. ‘Your companions?’

Valance gestured to the others. ‘Lieutenant Cortez, my engineer, and Ensign Lindgren, my communications officer.’

Bak’tan gave them both a nod. ‘Welcome to my chambers. Some of my fellow warriors have joined us in curiosity. It is not every day Starfleet comes to our doors.’ His eyes fixed on Valance. ‘But is that all I call you? Commander?’

‘I am the first officer of -’

‘You stand not in the halls of a Great House, Commander, with warriors set to sneer down at you. We are all of us here outcasts of one sort or another.’ He leaned forward. ‘Simply put, Commander: Are you a warrior who knows of our ways? Are you a champion of the Federation and newcomer to the Empire? I judge neither. But I will give you the honour you are due.’

Valance hesitated. ‘I am Commander Karana Valance, daughter of Jodmang, of the House of A’trok. First officer of the USS Endeavour. Once executive officer of the IKS qa’chaQ.’

Bak’tan regarded her a moment, then nodded again. ‘I understand, daughter of Jodmang. Great Houses will tell you how to walk the single path of the warrior they understand. But we are the Jajvam Brethren. There are paths of honour that are wide and straight and paved by those who came before, clear and easy save the risk of being stampeded by those who think there are prizes for being fastest or first. And then there are paths of honour less well-trodden, that wander through wild and adventurous and unknown places; these are harder. They run alongside other paths for some journeys. They go the places the Great Houses cannot, or will not see.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘So I welcome you to this station as officer and as warrior.’

If Cortez had thought Valance was always tense, she could see her now coiled like a spring as she stood before the great seat. ‘I thank you for your hospitality. And for making the time to see us.’ She hesitated. ‘This station technically lies within the territory of the House of K’Var, but you do not swear them fealty?’

‘K’Var and I have an agreement,’ huffed Bak’tan. ‘Long ago, the scum of this border scurried from hole to hole, chased by K’Var’s forebears, never fully eradicated. The last of them built this station and became a thorn in the side of K’Var’s father. As a young man, I slew the builder and claimed the station alongside my fellow warriors, and we formed the Jajvam Brethren. The worst of the dogs continue to work from here, but they cannot be united, and if they overstep the bounds of honour in operations from this station then the Brethren will eradicate them. The scum are like the tides; you cannot change them, but you may build fortifications against the flood. We are that fortification. In exchange for keeping this equilibrium, K’Var does not challenge our autonomy.’

‘In which case, Lord Bak’tan, I come to you on a matter of that equilibrium. My officers and I pursue pirates who have raided and murdered civilians, attacked Starfleet ships and killed our officers, and abducted children for leverage. The Wild Hunt have run to T’lhab lately and in the past, using your resources to recover their strength before going to their lair. Human pirates, flying Blackbird-class ships.’

Bak’tan’s great brow furrowed, and he extended a hand for a nearby Klingon to pass him a PADD. He read for a moment. ‘They are not here now.’

‘No. I am not asking you to apprehend them. I’m asking you to help me hunt them.’ Valance straightened, and Cortez thought she saw even a quiver in her shoulders, so taut was she stood. ‘I want the location of their base. Endeavour will do the rest.’

Bak’tan shook his head. ‘I wish I could help you. I do not know their location.’

Valance hesitated. ‘Reports suggest they have worked with one of your number, Korta.’

Cortez did not need to know Klingons to see Bak’tan’s reluctance. He looked to the shrouded warriors, and waved a hand. ‘Korta?’

Korta stepped forth. He was tall, as tall as Torkath and broader still, as fit and strong as any Klingon warrior she’d ever seen. ‘This is it?’ said the warrior, maybe half Bak’tan’s age. ‘I am called to answer on reports?’

‘I do not judge you for those you work with,’ Valance told him. ‘I only say you may have the answers I seek.’

Korta looked her up and down, and shrugged. ‘I may. I do not know why I should surrender them to you.’

Valance tilted her head a half-inch. ‘How shall I answer you, Korta? Do I say these people are dishonourable pirates who threaten children and kill the helpless? Or do I say that they are trouble on your own door, who will darken your reputation and threaten your tidal fortifications? I already have the assistance of the House of K’Var in chasing the Wild Hunt. What will it do to your agreement if you shelter them?’

‘I do not shelter them,’ Korta sneered. ‘There are many criminals who come through this place. They do not operate from this station. They receive the same support as many criminals.’

‘Most of those criminals,’ Valance pressed, ‘are not enemies of the Federation. Not on this scale.

‘No, they are enemies of the Empire. I do not surrender those people to the House of K’Var, either.’ Korta gave Bak’tan a dismissive look. ‘Must I stand here and have this whelp demand answers of me?’

Valance only shifted her weight, and to Cortez’s shock it was Lindgren who stepped forward. ‘You address Commander Valance of the USS Endeavour, Korta,’ said Lindgren, and Cortez realised she was speaking in Klingon, the Universal Translator adapting. ‘That is her title; not “whelp”.’

Korta rounded on the officers. ‘You are intruders onto our station -’

‘We are guests, granted guest-right and protection by Lord Bak’tan,’ pressed Lindgren, chin tilting up a defiant half-inch. ‘We have made a request and you have turned it to insult with swiftness that suggests guilt.’

He glared at her, then up at Valance. ‘You let your lackey do the speaking -’

‘I am Ensign Lindgren, not a lackey,’ Lindgren continued in the same firm voice. ‘And it is my role to champion the Commander with words as you try to fight with them.’

Bak’tan lifted a hand. ‘Enough. Korta, give our guests the courtesy they deserve. Commander, Ensign; you have made your request of Korta. I cannot compel him to answer; nor would I compel him to surrender his allies to you.’

Lindgren slumped, but Valance remained straight and tense. Cortez watched as her eyes fixed on the floor, then Korta, then back to Bak’tan. And at length Valance said, ‘What of the reports that Korta protects the Wild Hunt because it suits the interest of the House of Mo’Kai?’

In a flash, Korta had crossed the distance. Valance was quick enough to push Lindgren aside, and then the two were nearly nose-to-nose. Cortez reached for her phaser on instinct, but then saw the warriors about the room tense, and she froze.

‘Lies,’ hissed Korta. ‘More whisperings from your “reports”, Commander? You have claimed to come here as a warrior as well as an officer, but all I have heard are the Federation’s weak words and mewling. If you are to stand by this slight against my honour, I will have honour’s response.’

Valance’s lip curled. ‘A convenient excuse. Where you demand steel instead of refuting arguments? Are you a warrior, or a brute?’

‘It is my right to defend my name when you associate it with the likes of Mo’Kai,’ snapped Korta, stepping back but standing tall. ‘And you had best be ready to fight if the likes of your words pass your lips again. You question if I am the warrior, and yet you demand the honour of a daughter of the House of A’trok and fight instead with words and underlings -’

Bak’tan stood, and now Cortez could see his knees were weak, his great frame not as mighty as it had once been. ‘Enough,’ he said again. ‘Unless you are to challenge, this matter is resolved. The request has been made, and Korta has refused it.’

Valance’s jaw was tight as she watched Korta withdraw. ‘Indeed,’ she said through gritted teeth, before looking at Bak’tan. ‘I thank you for your time, Lord Bak’tan, and your hospitality. We will not be departing yet.’

‘You have the rights of any guest,’ Bak’tan said, hands lifted generously. ‘Cause no trouble, and none shall befall you under the hospitality of the Jajvam Brethren.’

They left, the heavy doors shut behind them, and then were ushered from the inner halls of the station back into the market square. ‘Come on,’ Valance said roughly once they were in the crowd, and none of them spoke until they had made it to the quieter corridors of the docking section.

‘I’m sorry I spoke up,’ said Lindgren, though Cortez didn’t think she was apologising so much as politely bringing the matter up.

‘You antagonised him,’ Valance said sharply.

‘He was insulting you, and by not responding to the insults, he was seeing you as weak,’ Lindgren said. ‘It’s a textbook example of how Klingons aggressively deal with the Federation; diplomacy guidelines stress being firm -’

Valance whirled around on the young officer, face like ice rather than furious fire. ‘I do not need to be told by you, Ensign Lindgren, how one handles Klingons.’

‘Okay!’ said Cortez in a slightly higher pitched voice than she’d have liked. ‘So how do we handle this now? If we can’t make Korta talk?’

‘We can make Korta talk,’ said Lindgren, not looking away from Valance. ‘But it’ll take the Commander challenging him with claims he’s been a puppet of the Mo’Kai.’

‘Not just challenging,’ Cortez said. ‘Also kinda needs her to win. He’s a big guy.’

‘We are Starfleet officers,’ Valance snapped to them both. ‘We didn’t come here to get into a brawl. That is hardly our way.’

‘Our way is being flexible to local customs, rather than waiting for other cultures to adhere to our norms,’ said Lindgren. ‘You don’t have to kill him.’

‘Okay, but again, he might kill her -’

‘That’s not the issue,’ Valance said sharply to Cortez. ‘The issue is that we are not resolving this like Klingons.’ She turned her back on Lindgren, who’d looked like she was going to argue again. ‘Let’s get back to the King Arthur. We need to regroup.’

She stalked off, and Cortez was left reeling. She looked at Lindgren. ‘What the hell was that about?’

Lindgren shook her head, lips thin. ‘I don’t know why I’m here,’ grumbled the usually good-natured communications officer, but she gave no more reply before heading off, and so all Cortez could do was follow in their wake, bewildered.

‘Listen,’ said Drake. ‘I know how places like this work. With the right pressure, the Juggernaut team will help us. Orions always have a price.’

They were all sat in the meeting room behind the King Arthur’s cockpit, and nobody looked enthused by this suggestion. ‘Help us do what?’ asked Thawn. ‘We’re not going to attack the station.’

‘We don’t need to attack the station – just this Korta guy.’

Lindgren shook her head. ‘Korta is demanding combat as a matter of honour. If we try to attack him all-out, then Bak’tan will take this as a threat to the station, maybe the Brethren.’

‘So, what,’ said Drake, ‘it’s okay for someone to say Korta’s a Mo’Kai stool pigeon and stab him in the face if they bow first, but if we say he’s a Mo’Kai stool pigeon and then four Orions break him over their knees, that’s not okay?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Good job, Klingons; now the biggest badass can’t be touched because he’ll just stab anyone who disagrees with him.’

‘Disagreeing with their culture won’t change our situation,’ said Lindgren. ‘We’re in their territory, we have to play by their rules.’

‘Adhering to their sense of honour and compromising our own isn’t a solution,’ Thawn said. ‘We don’t need to prove Korta an agent of the Mo’Kai, we just need answers about the Wild Hunt. I say we request a meeting with him in private, try to get him to talk -’

‘Sure,’ Drake scoffed. ‘Ask him nicely, that’ll work.’

‘No, I was going to say we then transport him aboard and question him.’

‘Oh,’ said Cortez. ‘We’re abducting the guy now?’

She shrugged. ‘I’m just trying to brainstorm.’

‘What do we do with him after he – hypothetically – gives us what we want?’ said Drake.

‘Well, if he’s Mo’Kai, give him to Torkath.’ Thawn sat up. ‘Maybe Torkath can fight Korta.’

Lindgren shook her head. ‘That would disrupt the balance between the Brethren and the House of K’Var.’

‘Okay,’ said Drake, ‘so the Brethren protect Korta. That’s the reason he’s got the right to these trials by combat.’ He rubbed his hands together, thinking. ‘Can we drive a wedge there? That’s how you handle a gang war; you target the lieutenants, screw up the things they’re responsible for, and then their bosses don’t trust them. We find Korta’s responsibility, maybe coerce the Juggernaut crew to help us mess it up, Korta looks weak in front of the Brethren…’

‘A gang war?’ Thawn echoed, disgusted. ‘What do you know about gang wars?’

He gave her a wink. ‘Everyone’s got a past, darling.’

‘Isn’t wrecking the Brethren’s infrastructure gonna piss them off and take a while?’ said Cortez.

‘I guess,’ sighed Drake. He looked at Valance. ‘Commander, can’t you just kick this guy’s teeth in?’

Valance had been stood by the window facing away from the station, staring at the stars in silence. Now she looked back. ‘Is that your formal suggestion as a Starfleet officer, Lieutenant?’

Drake hesitated, but Lindgren sat up. ‘It’s hardly against policy to engage with Klingons on their own terms. Only if we endanger third parties by doing so.’

Cortez lifted her hands. ‘Look, Commander, nobody’s saying we want Korta to go kill you -’

‘That isn’t my concern. But we didn’t come to this station to wrestle our enemies into submission. The challenge isn’t an option.’ Valance shook her head, and stalked towards her bunkroom. ‘I need to think.’

The junior officers stayed silent until she left. Cortez bit her lip as Drake looked bewildered, Lindgren tense, and Thawn apprehensive, but it was Drake who chirped up first. ‘Seriously, what’s crawled up her ass?’

‘That’s not fair -’ Thawn started.

‘Yeah, his phrasing’s off,’ said Cortez, ‘but the spirit’s right. Lindgren, Thawn, you two’ve known her a while. What the shit is going on?’

Thawn squirmed in her seat. ‘This is hardly appropriate.’

‘It ain’t gossip when our team leader’s shutting down our best and only plan to get through this.’ Cortez looked at Lindgren. ‘What is it? She ain’t good enough to win?’

‘The Commander is an outstanding fighter,’ said Lindgren in a clipped voice. ‘I have no doubt Korta is formidable, but I expect she can win and anyway, I expect Bak’tan won’t let Korta kill her so long as she yields gracefully. We would have to immediately leave if she lost, but I don’t think anyone would die.’

‘So what’s the problem?’ said Drake.

Cortez sighed, and scrubbed her face with her hand. ‘She’s got a real messed up relationship with Klingon-ness, huh. She was all coy about her father’s house when I were at dinner with her and Torkath, and looked like she was sucking a lemon when Bak’tan was asking about it. Was I wrong, or was he just trying to be polite?’

‘I think he was trying to be polite,’ Lindgren agreed. ‘But you’re right, the Commander keeps her cards close to her chest on these matters.’

‘Valance keeps her cards close to her chest on what she had for breakfast,’ Drake pointed out.

‘We really,’ said Thawn, ‘shouldn’t be discussing the Commander’s private life.’

‘We’re discussing the mission,’ said Drake. ‘And I’ll say what we’re all thinking: surely Rourke sent her because she can handle Klingons?’

‘He sent her because she’s the XO,’ Thawn snapped.

‘God, she’s just refused our only way forward and now gone to sulk in her bunkroom!’ said Drake. ‘She can’t hear you sucking up!’

Cortez had been waiting a heartbeat for someone to intervene, which was why she was a little slow to step in. She’d forgotten she was the ranking officer. ‘Alright! You’re both very special and correct, but this ain’t helping.’ Engineering teams, she thought, were a lot easier to manage than away missions. She’d not had the seniority on her last starship assignment for this kind of responsibility. She looked at Lindgren. ‘You know the Commander best -’

Lindgren looked like a deer in the headlights. ‘I don’t know what gave you that idea.’

‘You’ve been on Endeavour longest?’

‘Only slightly,’ said Thawn defensively. ‘A year before me -’

‘Do you want to talk to her?’ said Cortez.

‘We’re not friends,’ said Lindgren. ‘Lieutenant, I’m trained in xenolinguistics and etiquette, which means I’m a good judge of people. Captain MacCallister and I often had tea together. What I’ve learnt by listening and watching for three years are the sole source of my understanding of Commander Valance, and honestly, we reached the end of it with the assessment I just gave. I expect she would find it deeply inappropriate for an ensign to check in on her.’

‘What we really need,’ said Thawn, ‘is Commander Airex. And he’s not here. We could maybe get away with Lieutenant Carraway. But he’s not here either.’

‘Yeah,’ said Drake, looking at Cortez. ‘You’re up, El-Tee.’

‘What am I supposed to do?’

He shrugged. ‘What was Elsa supposed to do?’

‘Hang on, are you mutinying against me because none of you want to go tell the Commander to suck it up and grab a bat’leth?’

The three young officers exchanged looks. ‘Yeah,’ Drake said again. ‘Pretty much.’

‘If I may,’ said Lindgren, ‘the Commander is normally briskly professional with everyone. I’ve observed that for whatever reason, you put her on the back foot.’

Yeah, thought Cortez. Because she thought I was a racist and so instead I had to tell her I think she’s hot. ‘How does that help?’

‘It means,’ said Lindgren, ‘you’re more likely to get through the door.’

‘Oh good, I’ll get close enough for her to bite my head off,’ Cortez sighed. ‘Right. I was gonna give you all something else to do while I’m in there. But I can’t think of something. So that’s your job: come up with a Plan B. I’m not against this “abduct him” idea, Thawn, that was strong.’ She stepped back. ‘Now excuse me, I gotta go get eviscerated.’

She had expected to find Valance buried deep in a pile of PADDs, at least pretending to be planning. Instead she was sat on the bottom bunk, carryall open at her feet. In her hands hung a heavy, metal, Klingon baldric. When she looked up, her expression of sheer uncertainty disappeared too slowly. ‘…Lieutenant.’

Wrong-footed by this vulnerability, Cortez dithered. ‘I didn’t -’ But turning back wouldn’t help. ‘That got hot out there.’

Valance’s shoulders slumped, and she looked back down at the baldric. ‘I was too defensive.’

‘Took us by surprise,’ Cortez agreed, and went to lean against the tiny table across from the bunk. ‘Nobody’s trying to push you.’

‘They are. And they’re right to. This isn’t personal, it’s professional, and they’re suggesting a perfectly reasonable way forward for this mission,’ said Valance, voice thick.

Cortez looked between her and the baldric. ‘It looks personal.’

A long pause. ‘I misjudged you,’ Valance said at length. ‘Because I am used to being seen and treated as a “Klingon officer.” So I leapt to conclusions about you, because it is… tiresome.’

‘I don’t know what a “Klingon officer” is supposed to look like. As a stereotype, I mean.’

Valance lowered the baldric, but still didn’t look up. ‘At best? Passionate. Outgoing. Opinionated. At worst? Thoughtless. Violent.’ She sighed. ‘Angry.’

‘Is that why?’ Cortez’s lips twisted. ‘Why you cultivate a reputation for having ice in your veins?’

‘I’ve been on Endeavour for three years. Before the Wild Hunt, the senior staff knew me, trusted me.’ Her shoulders hunched. ‘Now I have to show all of you what I’m not. Including Rourke.’

‘So you don’t want your new CO to send you on a Klingon mission where you’re the token Klingon officer who fixes problems in a Klingon way. Even worse to do it in front of half of the new senior staff.’

‘It’s not…’ Valance let out a slow breath and turned the baldric over in her hands. ‘It’s not just about how I’m seen.’

‘Good, because… look, I can’t pretend I know what you’re dealing with, but rep is overrated.’

‘Maybe for an engineer. For a command officer? Reputation is everything. And sometimes… sometimes reputation is earned.’

‘Huh.’ Cortez tilted her head. ‘What did you do?’

Valance looked up at last. ‘What?’

‘This ain’t just you not wanting to be put in a box. This is guilt.’ She gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Look, when I ain’t eating boot-leather, I’m pretty good with people.’

‘It was a long time ago.’ Valance lowered her head again. ‘I was a young officer. Command fell to me in a crisis. I ignored the advice of those more experienced and level-headed, and I took the cowboy path. Saddled up for trouble, rolled the dice in a risky gambit, thought I could pull it off punching the bad guys in the nose and yanking people out of the fire by being brilliant and smart. And people died.’

‘That’s rough.’ Cortez hesitated. ‘You know that ain’t the situation we’re in, right?’

‘I know -’

‘I’d love a Plan B, and the kids out there are working on one. But if we don’t have it, you fighting Korta ain’t brute-forcing a situation on guts and glory. This is a treacherous bully banking on nobody standing up to him, and you doing just that.’

Valance shook her head. ‘We shouldn’t be playing his game.’

‘Why not?’ Cortez moved to sit next to her on the bunk. ‘He’s rigged it, sure, but you’re a wild card he ain’t prepared for.’

‘No,’ she said, thumb running over a crest on the baldric. ‘Just a Klingon, solving a Klingon problem in a Klingon way.’

Oh, thought Cortez as the pieces fit together. She reached out, hesitated, then touched the edge of the baldric. ‘Doing this doesn’t make you that.’ Valance didn’t answer, and Cortez drew a deep breath. ‘You say the best of the stereotype includes being passionate and opinionated. And yeah, you’re both those things. Not to a fault; as a strength. God, we say you got ice in your veins but not a soul on Endeavour doubts that you’d fight tooth an’ nail for each of us. With heart an’ with sense. It makes us trust you – trust you to have our backs, and trust you to be smart.’

Valance made a small noise of protest. ‘You may be good with people, Lieutenant, but you’ve not known me long.’

‘No,’ Cortez accepted. ‘But that’s how you fought to save me even when you couldn’t stand me. That’s an unfortunate side-effect of my opinion of you. It means I’ve noticed things.’ She winced. ‘Hard not to when it’s been tough to take my eyes off you. But you don’t realise how you’re seen.’

‘I don’t…’ But Valance’s voice trailed off, and Cortez wondered how much unspoken fell in the things Valance couldn’t or wouldn’t see or know or do.

‘I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable,’ Cortez said, throat tight. ‘Weren’t my plan to come in and talk about this. But if this is about who you are and how you’re seen, all I can do is be honest about who I think you are… and how I see you. Say the word, and I’ll keep my trap shut about this forever.’

‘No,’ said Valance, quite quickly, and Cortez’s heart lunged in her chest. ‘I’m just not used to anyone looking further than either the veins of ice or the ridges.’

‘You said something like that,’ Cortez said slowly, ‘the other night, when I were drunk.’ Her lips twisted at Valance’s glance. ‘Yeah, I heard. It ain’t the worst thing in the world, you know. To be known.’ She hesitated. ‘I remember I called you lonely, too.’

‘And you were right.’ Valance’s hand moved. Just an inch, running along the crest on the baldric, bringing her hand closer to Cortez’s, fingertips just brushing against her thumb. ‘Usually people leave me to it, Lieutenant.’

Cortez suddenly found her mouth rather dry. ‘That really what you’re gonna call me, time like this?’ she said softly, gaze lifting to hers, and their eyes met.

Which was of course when there was a chime at the door, and Cortez jerked upright as Lindgren stepped in. If the comms officer had picked up on anything, her expression of a professional diplomat didn’t shift. ‘We’ve had a message from the Brethren,’ she said. ‘Korta wants to meet. In private.’

I don’t know why I’m here, Cortez thought as she followed Valance and Lindgren through the door into Korta’s personal chambers on T’lhab Station. Whatever his formal role for the Brethren, it had to be important enough to grant him multiple rooms, and they were received in a more intimate meeting space than Bak’tan’s great hall.

Guards had shown them in – enough that Cortez didn’t fancy starting trouble – but Korta stood on his own at the head of a low table. He gave a stiff half-bow and gestured to the cushioned chairs around him. ‘Commander Valance. I welcome you.’

There was no water and salt this time, but Cortez assumed Bak’tan had covered hospitality already, and she followed Valance’s lead to take a seat.

‘This is Lieutenant Cortez,’ said the Commander. ‘And you already know Ensign Lindgren.’

‘You are also welcome.’ He spoke a little awkwardly, and Cortez wondered if, were he acting in good faith, he was less at-ease in a more intimate gathering than his grandstanding in a council chamber. ‘You did not need to bring guards.’

‘They’re not guards. They’re officers.’

‘Very well.’ Korta sat stiffly. ‘This probably looks like political scheming to you. It’s not. I don’t know how else to do this.’

Valance’s brow furrowed. ‘Try honesty, Lord Korta.’

‘Not Lord.’ He winced. ‘We give that title to Bak’tan as our leader. I don’t have your Great Houses of blood or friendship to call on. But I’ll get to the point.’ He placed a hand on the low table and frowned at nothing for a moment. ‘You chase the Wild Hunt. I defended them in the chamber. This places me trapped now between two dishonours.’

She cocked her head. ‘Indeed?’

‘I asked after your claims. These assaults on civilians, of abducting children. There seems to be truth to them. So either I betray them behind closed doors, or I keep to my word and protect these dogs.’

‘Why not oppose them publicly?’

‘Because others will not take your word or their misdeeds as reason enough to turn against them,’ Korta grumbled. ‘And then I look like I handed my friends to Starfleet. So I must do the right thing, but it must be done quietly.’

Valance opened her mouth, and Cortez thought she might argue. Then she held her tongue and started again. ‘All we need is where they go to ground. Nobody needs to know how we found out.’

‘I don’t have that information,’ said Korta, and Cortez’s heart sank. ‘But I do know of a meeting point of theirs nearby. It’s a rendezvous for their ships who’ve had business at T’lhab before they move on, coming or going to that hideout. As they were there lately I expect it to be rife with their warp signature, and if you get me those scans with Starfleet sensors I can use it to make an educated guess of their destination.’

‘How near?’

Korta pulled out a PADD and slid it across the low table. ‘A half-hour away for your shuttle, I expect.’

Valance read it. ‘On a shuttle, maybe. Minutes away at the King Arthur’s top speed.’ She looked up. ‘Can I copy and transmit this?’

‘Your ship is that fast?’ His eyes widened. ‘Ah – do so.’

Valance pulled out her own PADD, and tapped her combadge. ‘Valance to King Arthur.’

‘Thawn here.’

‘I’m transmitting you some coordinates and data. A possible rendezvous point nearby for Wild Hunt ships, you should be able to further isolate the warp signatures and get us a heading. That should narrow down our options for asking around here. If you go at maximum warp it’s only a few minutes away. Ask Lord Torkath to remain at T’lhab to relay your findings to me.’ The King Arthur and the Vor’nak could communicate at this distance where combadges would not keep the away team in contact with the runabout.

‘Acknowledged, Commander. We’ll report back as soon as we can.’

Korta blinked. ‘You’re not leaving?’

‘There’s no need when the King Arthur can make the trip so quickly,’ said Valance coolly, watching him. ‘They can send us their findings and you can make your estimation. It’s much less suspicious to onlookers than us repeatedly visiting you, no?’

‘Quite. I am – impressed, to be honest. You have more sophisticated vessels than I expected.’ He gave a gentle scoff. ‘I was right to not oppose Starfleet. If you’re to wait, Commander, Lieutenant, Ensign, I’ll have some refreshments brought.’

Cortez leaned forward as he left. ‘You trust this guy?’

‘No,’ said Valance. ‘I think he’s trying to lead us on a wild goose chase. So I’m going to look him in the eye if Thawn doesn’t find anything and ask what’s going on. It’ll be easier to trap him in his personal honour face-to-face.’

Lindgren nodded. ‘He has to abide by the appearances of Klingon honour,’ she explained to Cortez, ‘if it’s to give him protection.’

‘It’ll do him no good if I can bring him up before Bak’tan as a liar,’ said Valance.

Cortez looked between them. ‘I mean. Depends on how much stock he really puts in Klingon honour.’ She shrugged. ‘But you’re the experts.’

* *

‘Oh, come along on the away mission, Connor. It’ll be fun, Connor,’ Drake grumbled as he watched stars stream past the King Arthur’s cockpit canopy at warp speed. ‘Forget that you’re a glorified bus driver for diplomats and nerds.’

‘I’m right here,’ said Thawn flatly. ‘This is important.’

‘Whatever,’ he grumbled. ‘My flight team won the Adrastea Race two years in a row at the Academy. On the Louisiana I won a commendation for the test flights we did on near-warp manoeuvres. I’m wildly over-qualified for driving you all around.’

‘That’s what Starfleet is. Hours of tedium, punctuated by moments where we get to make a difference. Haven’t you found any meaning in that?’

‘Not when you put it like that. Your job might be boring, juggling ship’s systems and figuring out what sensor readings mean, except not in the sexy way like tactical looking at enemy ships or science looking at a new phenomenon – no, just in trying to calibrate the damn things. My job is -’

‘Pushing buttons to fly us around to places?’

‘Hey, we flew combat at Lockstowe!’ Drake protested.

Thawn’s lips thinned as she looked at her panel. ‘I, on the other hand, have had quite enough combat.’

‘Then you’re on the wrong ship. Why’d you come to a Manticore if you didn’t want combat?’

‘She’s not a combat ship! She’s a heavy escort -’

‘Which is Starfleet for blows things up,’ Drake sneered. ‘Maybe your old man MacCallister lived in the gumdrops and rainbows land where he used Endeavour to conduct sub-standard surveys and talk very nicely to people, but all the while he was sat on one of the most sophisticated weapons of death Starfleet’s ever built.’

‘It’s a deterrence -’

‘What a joke,’ he scoffed. ‘Rourke knows the score there. That’s why he brought us to Lockstowe all guns blazing, and we won, you know?’

She turned sharply in the chair. ‘Don’t you dare.’

Drake sat up, surprised by her vehemence. ‘What -’

‘Sneering about Captain MacCallister is crass. Implying that if Rourke had been in charge at Thuecho we’d have been alright is – you weren’t there!’

‘When did I say that?’ he snapped. ‘I’m not that lousy. Can you stop jumping down my throat, assuming the worst?’

‘What was I supposed to think except an unfavourable comparison between the two? Prizing Rourke applying brute force when Captain MacCallister followed all reasonable measures of a civilised man -’

‘Hey! Again! You can be mad at Rourke! You can be sad about what happened to MacCallister! But you shouldn’t be angry at me about it!’

‘Why not?’ Thawn snapped. ‘When it means I have to work with you and not Noah?’

Who, thought Drake, the hell is Noah? Then the alert siren went off, and he had to look back at his controls. ‘We’re at the location. Bringing us out of warp.’

She’d turned back to her console, taut like nothing had happened. ‘Beginning sensor sweep. I’d expect there might be a beacon…’ But then they were at impulse, the stars no longer streaming by but hanging in the distance. She huffed. ‘Nothing I can see. I’ll begin the scans for warp signatures.’

He sat still as she worked, hearing the beeps of her console, and for a long time there was nothing but that sound in the silence. He toyed with his own controls, seeing nothing on the navigational sensors, and drummed his fingers on the metal edge.

‘I’m only picking up very weak warp signatures,’ Thawn sighed. ‘Scanning to see if they’re what we’re looking for.’

A minute later he remembered. ‘Wait. Is that your problem with me?’

‘The word “that,”’ she said, not looking up, ‘suggests it’s only one -’

‘- because Noah Pierce is dead and you resent me taking his job?’

She froze, hands still on the controls. ‘It’s impossible,’ she said at length, ‘to not find you wanting compared to your predecessor, who was a good friend.’

His jaw fell, and he had to work it a bit before he could speak again. ‘I don’t… it’s hard for me to answer that without being an asshole.’

‘I didn’t ask you to answer it.’

‘Alright, then you get the asshole bit first: it’s not my fault, and it’s not fair for you to take your upset out on me -’

‘Upset -’

‘- I didn’t know the guy but my whole department seemed to like him, and I’m sorry.’ That stopped her again, and he drew a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry you lost your friend.’

‘I didn’t lose him,’ said Thawn in a small voice. ‘He was murdered.’

Then Drake’s console blatted at him urgently, and he turned. His chest tightened. ‘What the – Klingon Bird-of-Prey decloaking -’

‘Is it the Vor’nak?’

‘Negative,’ said Drake, and she raised shields a heartbeat before he could tell her to. Which was just as well, as a heartbeat later they opened fire. The first shot dashed off their deflectors, but now he had the King Arthur in a wild spin, and disruptor fire flashed in front of the cockpit as he evaded.

Already Thawn was reeling off information. ‘I’m not getting an ID off them, they’re not answering hails!’ she said. ‘Older model, older weapons array -’

‘We’re still outgunned! Call the Vor’nak for backup!’

‘Right!’ Thawn spun to the comms controls. ‘King Arthur to Vor’nak; please respond, we are under attack and require assistance!’ The ship bucked around them as Drake desperately maintained the evasive manoeuvres, a large runabout only barely more swift than a Bird-of-Prey.

Long, aching seconds later, the comms display changed for Torkath’s face, and the bridge of the Vor’nak beyond him – wreathed in the emergency lights of battle. ‘We hear you, King Arthur! But we cannot assist; my petaQ of a brother has decided now is time for one of his games!’

‘Games?’ Drake bellowed. ‘We’re on a limb out here with some Bird-of-Prey who’re more shooty than chatty -’

‘We will dispatch them and render aid as soon as possible, King Arthur, but we cannot. I will warn your Commander Valance.’

‘And what the shit is she supposed to do?’

‘Hush and keep flying!’ snapped Thawn, whirling back to Torkath. ‘Please send any assistance you can!’

‘I shall! In the meantime, King Arthur – endure! Vor’nak out!’

Thawn looked horrified as her gaze fell back on Drake. ‘It looks like we’re on our own.’

He’d managed to get more distance between the ships, enough to maintain desperate evasive measures. ‘Then we need to even the odds, because I can’t keep this up forever. You got two options: come up with a brilliant idea. Or man the phasers.’

* *

‘…ship is being attacked, but we cannot render assistance! Your people are on their own, Valance!’ Torkath ended the communication there, and a tense silence fell over Korta’s meeting room.

And Korta smiled.

Cortez had only seen Valance defeated, controlled, or uncomfortable. But her fury was like a sudden storm, and in a flash she had lunged across the table, grabbing him by the front of his armour. ‘You bastard!’

‘Easy, Commander,’ Korta sneered. ‘The protection of hospitality goes both ways.’

‘You sent my people to be slaughtered -’

‘I had hoped it would get you all. But with your runabout gone, with Torkath defeated or driven off by his brother, you’ll be left vulnerable enough here soon.’ He shoved her back as he stood, straightening his armour. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’

Cortez reached for her phaser. ‘Or this ends real bad for you right here -’

‘No.’ As sudden as the rage had come, Valance suppressed it, lifting a hand to Cortez. ‘He’s right. That will only turn Bak’tan against us. And it won’t help Thawn and Drake. We’ve got to go.’ She stabbed a finger at Korta. ‘This isn’t over.’

He shrugged. ‘It will be.’

She turned on her heel, Cortez and Lindgren falling into step behind her, and she all but shoved the attendants out of the way as for the second time they stormed from the halls of a ruling Klingon of T’lhab and into the station’s underbelly.

‘What,’ hissed Lindgren, ‘can we possibly do to help them if Torkath can’t?’

Valance shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Well.’ Cortez winced. ‘I got only one idea. But it’s a long shot. And you won’t like it.’

‘You’re back, Starfleet.’ Olgren, skipper of the Orion mercenaries of the Lancing Juggernaut, looked surprised to see Cortez pull up a stool opposite him down in the Cluster.

‘Olgren. Big Kitta.’ Cortez pushed the tray of drinks across to them. ‘I’d give you all the pleasantries, but…’

‘You need more.’ Olgren rolled his eyes. ‘We stuck out our necks enough even telling you about Korta. We don’t got time for Mo’Kai business.’

‘Come on, Olgren.’ Big Kitta slapped him on the shoulder. ‘We can give ‘em the time of day, they’re alright.’

‘They’re still Starfleet.’ Olgren looked at her. ‘Let me guess. Korta didn’t say nothing.’

‘Oh, he said many things.’ Cortez winced. ‘Including information to lure our people beyond the station’s protection where he’s got a Bird-of-Prey trying to blow them up right now.’

‘Huh, that’s rough,’ grunted Big Kitta.

‘No,’ said Olgren. ‘No way.’

‘It really is rough,’ she said.

‘You didn’t come for sympathy. You want us to go help.’

She shrugged. ‘I mean, you hate the guy. He’s throwing his weight around. You could take out one of his ships while they’re distracted -’

‘And start a turf war with Korta, if not the whole Brethren.’ Olgren took a swig of the drink she’d brought him. ‘Definitely not.’

She tensed. ‘Look – there has to be some sort of deal we can reach. Or my friends are about to be real blown up. I’m a Starfleet engineer, we have all sorts on that shuttle we can help provide you with…’

‘Short of a full-on industrial Starfleet-issue replicator,’ said Olgren levelly, ‘which you won’t give me, there’s nothing you got which is worth this trouble with Korta.’

‘What if,’ said Cortez, leaning forward, ‘we then get rid of Korta.’

‘If you could do that, why are you asking for my help now?’

A shadow fell over the table. ‘Gentlemen.’ Cortez looked up to see Valance, who was supposed to be waiting with Lindgren at the bar while she tried to sweet-talk the pirates. But nothing, it seemed, was going to plan. ‘I’m going to ask you one last time if you will render aid to Starfleet officers in trouble. We’ll be indebted to you. And will make sure there are no recriminations from the Brethren.’

Olgren watched her over his drink. ‘You’re in a tough bind, Starfleet. But the answer’s no.’

As Cortez watched, Valance seemed to be struggling with something. Then she planted her hands on the table. ‘Fine. I won’t ask on behalf of Starfleet. The Myriad are asking for your help.’

Big Kitta laughed. ‘Nobody’s heard from the Myriad in years.’

But Olgren looked sober. ‘You speak for them?’

Valance’s gaze didn’t waver. ‘Across many suns and stars.’

It sounded, Cortez thought, like a code. Not one she understood, but the flash in Olgren’s eyes from suspicion, to apprehension, to a taut acceptance, was easy enough to see. The large Orion rolled his shoulders. ‘What does the Myriad want of us?’

* *

‘Shields down to eighty percent!’ Thawn shouted as the King Arthur rattled under the impact.

‘I know, I know! I’ve lost them for the moment,’ said Drake, as the runabout dipped under the Bird-of-Prey and zipped towards its aft. ‘They’ve only got front-facing weapons and we’re a bit more manoeuvrable than them, they don’t seem used to it.’

‘Probably usually pick on someone at least their own size,’ she muttered, fingers dancing over controls. ‘Aligning shields with our tactical sensors so they’re strongest whatever direction’s facing them. That’ll free me up doing it manually.’

‘Good idea!’

‘I do have them.’

‘Do you have one for getting us out of here?’

Thawn bit her lip and brought up the detailed sensor read of the enemy Bird-of-Prey. Still their attackers had not identified themselves or communicated in any way. But their identity wasn’t the useful part of knowing their enemy. ‘Latest Bird-of-Prey designs include reinforcement of aft hull plating in proximity to their engines; they kept being very weak if anyone got behind them. This is an older model, they shouldn’t have the reinforcement.’

‘So we can take out their engines?’

‘If you can get us behind them.’

‘They don’t seem to like that much,’ he muttered. ‘But I’ll do my best.’

Thawn watched their manoeuvres on the sensors rather than the cockpit. Pilots had told her they liked to use their eyes, that it helped them feel the ship more. Drake was clearly one of them, looking through the canopy as much as he checked his sensors, and a small pang tugged at her as she watched him work, despite how dire their situation was. He flies like Noah.

Then Drake flipped the King Arthur away from the latest bout of Klingon fire, and the pang intensified.

No. He’s better.

‘Damn them!’ he hissed. ‘Bastards are smart enough to not let me, they keep blocking me with weapons fire or just swinging their asses around.’

‘What if…’ Thawn’s gaze spun over the tactical sensors. ‘If it takes being hit with a heavy burst of fire, can you get us through?’

He winced. ‘Can we take it?’

‘That’s a co-pilot’s concern,’ she said, still reading the sensors. ‘You just give me the go-ahead.’

‘Alright. Brace yourself.’

The colours on her sensor display spun as the King Arthur did. She’d seen the runabout piloted through stellar phenomena before, but never in combat, and for such a large smallcraft, Drake could make her dance. The first burst of enemy fire just missed them, blazing before the canopy, and he said, ‘Go for it!’

This time, instead of spinning away, they carried on through the Bird-of-Prey’s weapons blast. The runabout rocked, and she had to hang onto her console to stay put, vividly reminded in that moment of Thuecho. But she’d done her job properly, and so when the enemy fire stopped, they were still in one piece.

Alert sirens were going off, yelling at her about damage, but she ignored them as Drake spoke again. ‘Alright, got them in our sights! Hit ‘em!’

She’d already programmed the targeting computer to find a solution on their engines the moment they had line of sight. ‘Aft launchers firing torpedoes!’

‘Flipping us for forward weapons -’

‘Launching – direct hit!’ Thawn’s heart leapt into her throat. ‘They’ve got impulse, but that’s their warp engines taken out!’ And now she looked at the damage reports from their stunt of trying to take the full onslaught of the heaviest weapons of a Klingon ship. ‘Port manoeuvring thrusters are damaged, hull plating scorched, I think we’ll only get 80% impulse…’

‘I know, I know,’ said Drake, but he sounded concerned instead of shutting her down. ‘I’m trying to get us out of here.’ They’d need a good run-up to warp still, the Bird-of-Prey sweeping around already. But he gave a small chuckle. ‘You’re a damn good co-pilot.’

‘I’m a systems manager.’

‘You say that like it’s not the dorkiest title.’

But he wore a small smile, and she couldn’t read a sting in his words. ‘It means I know how to handle every single inch of this ship from one console.’

‘No kidding; I’ve flown with Defence Systems Officers of ten years who couldn’t have pulled off what you did with the shields. Twice. I don’t – damn it.’ Drake hissed the curse. ‘They’re not giving up.’

‘They’re coming around, and they’re gaining on us. I should have targeted their impulse engines more…’

‘Would have done us no good if they could chase us into warp.’ Another curse from Drake. ‘We are not as manoeuvrable -’

‘Adjusting shields to compensate, but we’re down to thirty percent. They’re firing -’

‘Taking evasive -’

But the next hit was hard. Hard enough to make the King Arthur spin, hard enough to make the alert sirens blare, and hard enough for Thawn to feel a phantom pain in her arm as, for a moment, she was back on Endeavour over Thuecho.

And that feeling didn’t go away when there was a burst of light from the pilot controls and Drake was sent flying from his chair.

‘Drake!’

But he caught himself as he hit the deck. ‘I’m fine – get us out of here -’

He wasn’t fine, she knew that, but he was conscious and alive and if she let herself freeze up then the Klingon ship would fire a second burst and they’d be gone. Desperately she reallocated flight controls to her console, blood singing in her ears.

‘They’re still on us; powering up warp -’ But another blast hit them, and though their hull took it, the displacement of their trajectory forced the navicom to run a new set of calculations. And as the Bird-of-Prey lined up for another shot, Thawn realised that there was no way they’d get it done in time.

In a heartbeat, she twisted in her chair and looked down at Drake. He was still picking himself up, uniform singed, burns across the side of his face, teeth gritted. Determined. Fighting despite it all.

In the next heartbeat, without thinking she reached out with her mind and found his, the only other being for half a light-year who wasn’t an enemy and yet still wasn’t anywhere close to a friend. But he was the best she had in an act that was more of instinct than deliberation anyway, and in these final seconds before they were blown out of the stars, her thoughts touched his.

It’s over. I’m sorry.

Except those were just words, and the connection was more than that; it was the sentiment and the knowledge and the apology and the fear. It was like reaching out with her mind to take his hands so she wasn’t, with death tearing down at them, alone.

And in the depths of her mind, she felt him – not a telepath, with no idea what he was doing or what was happening – reach back.

But then another heartbeat happened, and another, and though only seconds had passed they felt like eternities in which they hadn’t been shot at, they hadn’t died, and Thawn’s eyes snapped back to the King Arthur’s controls in time to see the sensor blip of the Klingon ship not bearing down on them but dancing away. Away from them, and away from the new sensor blip that had appeared.

‘I – they – someone else is here,’ she said, voice thick. ‘Orion ship, the Lancing Juggernaut; they’ve taken on the Klingons, they’re driving them away!’

Drake hesitated, then grabbed the nearest seat and took back flight control. ‘Stabilising us.’

‘The Klingons have gone to warp, and the Orions are coming around.’ Thawn’s heart danced as she didn’t know if she should be relieved or terrified. Would it be better to be killed by Klingons or enslaved by Orions? ‘They’re – they’re hailing us.’

The large, heavyset face of an Orion male appeared on the comm screen, square-jawed and looking unimpressed. ‘Starfleet ship, we have driven away the Brethren’s vessel. Tell us if you need assistance making it back to T’lhab so we can resolve our contract with your superiors.’

Your contract with what? Thawn’s jaw was hanging too heavily for her to begin to understand what had happened.

Mercifully, Drake leaned in with a chirpy grin. ‘Krom Da, Juggernaut!’ he said, in flawless Orion that visibly softened the other man’s glare. ‘You’ve got great timing. I think we’re shipshape enough to jump back ourselves, but if you could follow in our wake in case our engines pack in we’d be -’ He hesitated. ‘We’d consider that in-line with the contract.’

‘Krom Da to you, Starfleet,’ grumbled the Orion. ‘Set a course and we’ll see you to T’lhab. Juggernaut out.’

He cast her a look, lip curling in a softer smile, and as she watched in mute surprise he set the course and brought the limping King Arthur into warp. ‘I guess the Commander did some negotiating back on T’lhab.’

‘Commander Valance?’ Thawn squeaked. ‘With Orions?’

‘I bet she’s loaning them Cortez for, like, a week.’

‘There’s no way the Commander did that.’

‘Did you even find a warp signature for the Wild Hunt?’

‘No – I don’t think there was anything.’

‘Then it was a trap. Damn.’

He sounded surprisingly unperturbed, but only when she looked at him again did she remember the burns. ‘You’re hurt -’

He lifted a hand as she stood. ‘I’m okay. Just singed -’

‘I’m getting the medkit,’ she said in a voice that would brook no argument, and he didn’t protest as she got the kit, pulled out the dermal regenerator, and took the seat next to his.

‘It wasn’t that bad,’ Drake grumbled as she put a hand on his shoulder and checked out the burns. ‘Minor overload; these consoles don’t have enough in them to really blast me. And I saw the surge coming and got back from the worst of it.’

She swallowed, mouth dry as she remembered turning over to see the lifeless body of Noah Pierce on Endeavour’s bridge. ‘You were lucky,’ she said, voice low.

‘I guess.’ He hesitated. ‘What the hell was – what did you do? Before the Orions showed up?’

‘I was trying to get us to warp -’

He met her gaze. ‘You know what I mean.’

Thawn didn’t say anything for a long moment, but felt her cheeks flush and waited until she’d seen to the worst of his burns. It was, at least, superficial, if likely painful. But when she was putting the dermal regenerator away, she didn’t have to look at him. ‘I’m sorry. It was an intrusion. I thought we were going to die, and I didn’t really think…’

‘It didn’t feel like an intrusion. I just didn’t know what it was. Hey.’ She’d stood, but he reached out, hand on her elbow, and she had to look down at him. The corners of his eyes creased a he gave a gentle lopsided smile. ‘I’ve almost died before. It’s always terrifying. This time, for the first time – even surrounded by people – I didn’t feel alone. So I guess I’m saying… it’s okay… and thanks?’

‘Well, you – you didn’t have to… reply, so to speak,’ she stumbled. ‘So. Thank you.’

His lopsided smile remained, but he let her go and she took her time putting the medkit away. She heard him settle back into his chair with a sigh, and still it was preferable to not look at him, so strong was the sense of him ringing in her mind.

‘So we fell into a trap. Almost got blown up. And didn’t even get the information we came for, because it probably wasn’t here. And now owe some mysterious debt to Orions.’ Drake gave another sigh. ‘All in a day’s work for a Starfleet pilot.’

She kept her smile under control at last as she returned to her seat. ‘Just like you,’ she said, ‘to think you can clock out from your shift early.’

She didn’t look at him. She didn’t smile. But he grinned at this jibe instead of rising to it like the old ones, and even though adrenaline hummed through her veins and memories soared through her mind, Rosara Thawn’s heart felt lighter than it had in weeks.

‘So how does this work?’ said Cortez, pacing in the corridor outside the bunkroom they’d been able to commandeer on T’lhab. Thawn had reported their rescue by the Orion crew, and at the same time the King Arthur’s attackers had been driven off, Dakor had abandoned his attack of Torkath. The conflict between brothers was a problem – why it had happened, and what it meant for the House of K’Var – but she could only fret about so many things at once.

‘Simply enough,’ Lindgren said, leaning against the wall. ‘We attend on the meeting chambers with Bak’tan presiding. The Commander makes the accusations against Korta and says she’ll back them up in combat. Unless Korta can provide good reason to delay, he must choose which of the traditional blades to use and it’ll be resolved right there and then.’

‘Can he delay?’

‘Bak’tan would have to allow it. I’ve encouraged the Commander to highlight Korta’s deception and ambush. If we’re reading the situation correctly, then he’s going to see that as against the spirit, if not the letter, of his offer of protection to us. We need him to be unwilling to give Korta any procedural leeway.’

‘Assuming,’ said Cortez, ‘that he is a stand-up guy and ain’t also in the Mo’Kai pocket while Korta.’

Lindgren pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘If that’s the case, then in my professional opinion… we’re screwed.’

Cortez considered this for a heartbeat. Then cracked up. This wasn’t a snicker, this was a full-on belly laugh which bent her double within moments.

Lindgren smiled despite herself. ‘What?’

‘It’s just -’ Cortez had to fight to breathe. ‘It ain’t that funny. But imagine we came all this way an’ this is just a nest of Mo’Kai an’ here we are tryin’ to play by their rules? “Oh, sorry Mister Terrorists, yeah we’ll totally obey your dumb honour rules that you’ll break the moment it’s useful!”’ She wiped her eyes. ‘It ain’t that funny.’

But then Lindgren laughed, and that set Cortez off again, and that was how they were found when Karana Valance stepped out of the bunkroom in the full armour of a Klingon warrior, utterly bemused.

Oh, thought Cortez as she straightened, sobering very quickly. Oh, dang.

‘What on Earth has gotten into you?’ said Valance, hands on her hips.

‘Sorry, Commander,’ sputtered Cortez, glad she could use her fit of the giggles to obscure her reaction. ‘We’re just – hysterics, y’know, at how wrong this might go.’

‘That’s deeply reassuring,’ said Valance.

Lindgren cracked up again. ‘I’m sorry!’ the ensign howled. ‘Commander. I’m sorry. You look good. You look ready.’ She cleared her throat as she regained control and straightened.

‘It was good of Torkath’s first officer to send this over,’ said Valance, adjusting the armour. ‘And I’m relieved it’s not the more old-fashioned chest armour.’

Cortez cocked her head. ‘Yeah?’

Valance visibly considered her words. ‘It offers less to protection and leaves less to the imagination.’

‘I see.’

Valance looked away. ‘We should go.’

They had been received with reluctance when first they’d visited Bak’tan. But this time they weren’t all in Starfleet uniforms; this time they had a Klingon warrior at the front, and this opened the doors, literal and metaphorical, for them much more quickly. While they had turned heads before when entering the main chambers, they had only been received with mild curiosity. Before, they had been an oddity. Now heads turned as if they were a force to be reckoned with.

Bak’tan stood, more square of shoulder this time. ‘You return, Karana Valance.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Do I call you “Commander” on this occasion?’

‘That is still who I am,’ Valance said flatly, eyes scanning the crowd. ‘Because I come as a commander. Because there has been an attack against my people by one of yours.’

A low hush rumbled through the assembled warriors of the Brethren, shuffling to the periphery to watch. Bak’tan cocked his head. ‘Our hospitality has been broken?’

‘Korta lured my people away from the station to attack them. He attempted through duplicity to exploit a loophole in the protection you offered. And I have come for recompense or retribution; whatever I will find here.’

Cortez hadn’t spotted Korta at first, but now he shouldered through the crowd to stand at Bak’tan’s side. ‘Is every petty dispute to be brought to -’

Bak’tan lifted a hand. ‘Is this true?’

Korta hesitated, and Cortez lifted a PADD. ‘I’ve got the whole sensor records here. Ships I bet you can link to Korta attacked our runabout.’

Korta’s nostrils flared. ‘If their shuttle left our space -’

‘Following information you gave us under false pretence,’ Valance snapped, and looked at Bak’tan. ‘Or may those offered the protection of the Brethren be slaughtered should they be lured away with lies? Is this protection only in letter rather than spirit?’

‘If your people were so foolish as to wander beyond the bounds of T’lhab Station,’ sneered Korta, ‘that is none of the Brethren’s business.’

‘Our only mistake was trusting you.’

Bak’tan again lifted a hand. ‘Enough.’ He looked at Valance. ‘What happened to your people?’

‘Aid came to them in time. There is no blood price to pay. Only a blow to the honour of us all – you and your protection, Korta and his word, and me, for believing him.’ Valance looked flatly at Korta. ‘I came to this station for answers. You know of the Wild Hunt, and you will tell me. Or I can only conclude you are protecting them on behalf of the Mo’Kai.’

He scoffed. ‘Again, you must back this up -’

‘Then I will.’ She stepped forward, ascending Bak’tan’s dais towards them both. Some warriors stiffened, but nobody moved as she approached Korta and looked him in the eye. ‘I name you a dog of the Mo’Kai, a traitor to the Empire and the Brethren. An enemy of the Federation, a liar, and a coward.’ Before he could reply she turned her back to return to the centre. ‘Name your weapon.’

Lindgren leaned to Cortez and whispered, ‘What he chooses will be telling.’

‘Telling what?’

But Korta bounded down, face a mask of fury. ‘So be it. I choose the warrior’s blade, the bat’leth. Let us do this correctly, mongrel.’

Valance gave a grimace of a smile. ‘You’ll find my heart Klingon enough. More than yours.’

Bak’tan clapped once. ‘So the challenge is issued. Korta must defend his word against Karana’s accusations, to be decided by the bat’leth. It will be to the death; the victor may choose to accept a yield.’ He nodded to one side. ‘Bring forth blades.’

The weapon brought for Korta was obviously his own, the symbol on the metal matching that on his armour. What was brought for Valance was a much simpler weapon, but Cortez saw no obvious difference between them in quality. But while she knew metal, she was no smith. Korta ran through some flourishes, but all Valance did was heft the blade to feel its weight and balance, and step back to give them space.

Cortez followed Lindgren to the side, voice a low hiss. ‘I thought you said Bak’tan would make sure it’s not to the death? For her, anyway?’

‘I expect that,’ Lindgren said. ‘But we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.’

Cortez stared. ‘What? It ain’t certain?’

‘Nothing is -’

Bak’tan clapped. ‘Begin!’

And Cortez turned. ‘Oh, shit,’ she breathed.

Everything about Valance she’d seen so far was deliberate and considered. She’d expected a defensive stance, a slow start. But at the clap Valance moved, lunging at Korta with a speed and aggression that shocked Cortez. By the look on Korta’s face, it shocked him, too.

His blade was knocked aside at the first blow, and he had to sidestep to avoid the second downward swipe. Barely could he bring his sword up in time to parry the next, but by the fourth he’d braced, planting his feet, and the blades locked.

‘So,’ Cortez breathed. ‘What’s this about the choice of weapons?’

Valance broke the lock and went to swipe again, but Korta went low, driving the centre of his bat’leth into her midriff to knock her back. Cortez’s heart lurched, but it was such a swift blow that the armour took all injury, a tactic by Korta to give himself space rather than do harm.

And he used it. As Valance regained her balance, he stabbed at her with the tip, forcing her to jump back again. Then he was on her, bringing his blade crashing down, and when Valance tried to meet force with force it was clear he was stronger. His next blow was deflected instead, but when Valance went to riposte he lashed out with a boot to catch her in the ankle, and when she staggered he met her jaw with the armoured back of his fist.

As she reeled back, he laughed. ‘Klingon? More like a mewling child.’

Lindgren bit her lip. ‘If he’d taken one of the smaller blades,’ she whispered to Cortez, ‘I expect he’d have tried to overwhelm her with strength and size up close. It would have probably been easier for him, or at least, if the Commander made a wrong move it’d be harder for her to recover.’

‘And the bat’leth?’ asked Cortez, not taking her eyes off Valance as she straightened and hefted her weapon.

‘There’s prestige to it. It makes this a more honourable fight, so victory bolsters his reputation and word. But that means he’s going to have to overwhelmingly win, because he’s a lifelong Klingon warrior and people here aren’t stupid, she’s a half-Klingon Starfleet officer. He’s assumed to have an advantage, but he’s also gambled because he can’t have any idea how well-trained the commander is.’

Valance moved, the two exchanging blows and parrying in a flurry of technical prowess that looked impressive. But Cortez knew she was a layperson in this. ‘And how well-trained is she?’

‘I’m not an expert,’ Lindgren said. ‘But I thought this was a good plan.’

The words were barely past her lips when Korta dropped his blade low and swept Valance’s legs out from under her. Cortez grabbed Lindgren’s shoulder. ‘Shit.’

Barely in time, Valance rolled and Korta’s next blow hit where her head had been. She was back on her feet in the blink of an eye, but she looked slower to Cortez’s eye. Bruised or rattled. And Korta could see it too, because he came at her with renewed vigour.

‘If she goes down and Bak’tan doesn’t save her,’ Cortez whispered, ‘I’m just drawing my phaser and shooting a lot. Fuck Klingon honour.’

Lindgren’s eyes widened. ‘That’ll…’ Then her lips thinned. ‘Sure. Why not.’

And Cortez found her hand drifting back to that phaser as Korta rained down heavy blow after heavy blow on Valance. Perhaps her ankle had gone in the fall, perhaps the near-miss had taken some fight out of her, but each one drove her back without counter-attack, each one wore her down that bit more. Korta laughed, and when their blades next met he twisted his bat’leth, sending her reeling back with her arms out, exposed.

‘This,’ Cortez hissed, opening the clip on her holster, ‘was such a bad plan.’ And Korta lunged.

In a flash Valance moved. His stab went wide, and now he was the one over-extended. With one hand on her blade she brought the wicked tip down on his elbow at an exposed gap in the armour, and he howled as the edge came away bloody. Her foot lashed out as he reeled, taking him down, and Cortez didn’t have time to take her hand away from her phaser before Korta was on his back, Valance’s blade at his throat.

‘Oh,’ breathed Cortez. ‘Holy shit.’

Valance’s chest was heaving, but in that final movement she’d given no sign of her ankle troubling her, or her determination rattled. ‘Yield,’ she said, voice a low growl. ‘Yield, and live.’

Korta froze for a moment, then his lip curled. ‘Kill me, and you don’t get what you want.’

She pressed the blade harder. ‘Do you want to die, publicly defeated in accusations of cowardice, deceit, and treason?’

Cortez leaned in to Lindgren. ‘Can he come back from this, socially? Does he have any reason to live except for, you know, standard survival instincts?’

‘If we were in the heart of the Empire, I’d say not,’ whispered Lindgren. ‘Here, with the Brethren? Maybe?’

‘Your life is mine right now,’ Valance pressed on as Korta hesitated. ‘Yield and tell me what I want, and I will implore Lord Bak’tan to consider giving you a chance to regain your honour, if you commit yourself to helping him uproot the corruption of Mo’Kai in his territory. And then your life is his, and his to take if you renege on your word.’ She glanced up to Bak’tan, but the old man’s face was utterly inscrutable.

‘Come on,’ Cortez hissed. ‘Give us something to work with.’

‘He might kill Korta anyway,’ mused Lindgren.

Korta let out a low growl. ‘Fine! Fine. I yield.’

Valance’s shoulders sank. ‘I will have the location of the Wild Hunt from you. And then you are Lord Bak’tan’s to do with as he sees fit.’

Bak’tan was on his feet. ‘Rise.’ Korta had to toss his weapon aside before Valance gave him space to stand, and she did not help him. ‘Korta. You have been defeated. Do you admit your misdeeds?’

He drew a sharp breath – then his shoulders sank. ‘The Mo’Kai have been the force in this region. They have left our space lanes alone when the Empire has pushed for taxes. When the Federation has demanded tariffs. The Mo’Kai keep them away so we may live and trade freely -’

‘So we may live and trade for them,’ Bak’tan snapped. ‘We pay our dues to the Empire because there exist more than ourselves between these stars. There is always a price, you foolish child. The Mo’Kai would demand theirs soon enough, and I will not have their treacherous ilk in my territory.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘So, Korta. These are my terms. You will give the Commander all she wants. And then you will dedicate yourself to this purge of their iniquitous influence. Until that is done, you will be the lowest of the low amongst us, the dog begging at the table for scraps. But we are not the Imperial Houses. We are the Brethren, and we know even the honourable make mistakes. Commit yourself fully, and in honesty to your redemption, and you shall have it.’

Korta looked surprised. ‘Lord Bak’tan, I…’ He fell to one knee. ‘I agree. That is more than I deserve.’

‘You are treated better than you have treated us, yes.’ Bak’tan nodded. ‘But you are one of ours. We are our strength.’

A low murmur ran through the crowd, echoing. ‘We are our strength.’

Cortez squinted, and leaned in to Lindgren. ‘For Klingons, these guys are so wholesome.’

Bak’tan rose, and turned to Valance. ‘The Wild Hunt have a base in the Azure Nebula. I only know its location, nothing about it. I was instructed to help them by my contacts in the Mo’Kai, that’s all.’

‘Give me the location,’ said Valance, ‘and you have earned your life.’

‘Hey,’ said Cortez, lifting a hand. ‘How do we know he’s not shitting us? Again?’

Bak’tan looked at her like she’d sprouted a second head. ‘He has been defeated in combat. This is our way.’

‘But he was supposed to be honourable before and he totally lied to us then.’

Bak’tan frowned and nodded. ‘You are human; I do not expect you to understand. It is one thing for a warrior to act as he did. It is another entirely for him, defeated, to carry on in such a way.’

‘Yeah, but -’

‘And if you find his information is false, then you will inform me and I will rip out his throat myself.’

‘Oh.’ Cortez winced. ‘Yeah, I guess that’ll do it.’

Bak’tan nodded and looked back to Valance. ‘Are you satisfied, Karana, daughter of Jodmang?’

Valance, at last, looked tired. But she nodded. ‘I’m satisfied.’

‘Whisky. Islay single malt, to be precise.’ Rourke put the tumbler on his desk in front of Torkath.

The Klingon picked up the amber liquid and had an experimental sniff. ‘This is what we drank last time?’

‘That was a Speyside. This is more peaty.’

‘Hm.’ Torkath lifted the glass. ‘To your hunt, then.’

‘I was going to drink to the mission you just helped me with.’

‘Why? That’s done.’ Torkath had a sip, and nodded approvingly. ‘The hunt to come? That needs fortune and support.’

‘I don’t know what our next move is. That’ll depend on what Intel have to say about this apparent location of the Wild Hunt base, and the rest of Commander Valance’s report. Until then, we recuperate and take stock.’ Rourke took a slug. ‘And drink whisky.’ The King Arthur and the Vor’nak had returned to Endeavour only an hour ago, Valance’s initial report read and sent up the chain not long after. ‘Which means I have to ask the awkward question.’

‘Dakor.’ Torkath sighed. ‘He is always a question.’

‘He attacked you.’

‘More than that, he attacked me while Mo’Kai agents tried to kill your officers, and kept me from protecting them.’ The Klingon examined his half-empty glass. ‘I owe you an apology.’

‘Don’t give me that “I dishonoured you by failing to protect your people” crap; everyone’s alright -’

‘No.’ Torkath did not look up. ‘I hid something from you and Commander Valance, because I thought it was not relevant. Because I am ashamed. My brother is a Mo’Kai sympathiser. If not outright their agent. It is why I raced to intercept him before your confrontation escalated. I did not think he would attack, but I offered your people protection in part because the Mo’Kai are strong in this region.’

Rourke let out a slow breath. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘This is the first time he has acted so brazenly. I will inform my father, but…’ Torkath shifted his weight. ‘He is ill. Very ill indeed.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Thank you. It is no way for a warrior like him to die. But if I am honest, it would be better if he died sooner rather than later. As he lingers my brothers squabble. For their own dominance, over the future of the House, over the weakness of the Empire and the ascension of the Mo’Kai and our relationship with the Federation. And our vassals and followers fracture between us.’

Rourke nodded. ‘What can I do?’

‘Very little,’ said Torkath, and finished his drink. ‘Deliver a shattering blow to friends of the Mo’Kai. Pour me some more whisky.’

He did so, jaw tight. ‘Is there a risk your house will fall in with the Mo’Kai when your father dies?’

‘I doubt it. When he dies, I or Gotarn will rule, and keep the house loyal to the Empire. But without my father strong enough to make and enforce a judgement, dissent will fester in our space and along this border.’ Torkath picked his glass back up. ‘I would have warned you, but you are not in this region long.’

‘No,’ Rourke agreed. ‘When the Wild Hunt are finished, I’m done with Endeavour.’

‘And what then?’ Torkath squinted. ‘Passing on your wisdom at the Academy is the work of men longer in the tooth than you, or those of hearth and home. You have always been a warrior, Matthew. Perhaps not in the Klingon sense, but you have always marched forth and vanquished enemies.’

‘I had my last battle.’ Rourke frowned. ‘This one wasn’t my choice.’

‘We rarely get to choose them. And if you could, which would you? I thought you left to lick your wounds, and that was your right. Did you slink off to die, instead?’ Torkath sipped his drink and peered across the desk. ‘Am I speaking to my friend’s ghost?’

‘I’m not -’

‘If you go back to Earth, speak to your daughter and be her father. Surround yourself with family and comrades and uplift the youth with your wisdom. Anything else is finding a hole in which you can wait out your life.’

Rourke blew out his cheeks, then had some whisky. ‘Brutal as always, Torkath.’

Torkath gave a toothy grin. ‘If you wished for diplomacy, you should have spoken to Starfleet.’

‘You brought this up!’

‘Because you have been surrounded by Starfleet who will not give you the truth you need.’

Rourke thought about Sadek and wasn’t sure he was right. But he’d avoided this topic with her, too. ‘This crew expects their captain to come back. Going back to Earth is an inevitability, in that case.’

‘Going to Earth may be. Going back does not have to be.’ Torkath finished his second whisky and set it down. ‘I had best be going. The Vor’nak will need to ensure Dakor and the Roghtak do not cause more chaos.’

‘Then good luck to your hunt, as well. Family is… hard.’

‘It is. But Dakor is not my only brother who seems wayward.’ Torkath gave him a pointed look as he stood up. ‘Reflect on this, Matthew, and make sure you know your own path. That, after all, is all I ask of you: to move forward.’

* *

‘…so I’m thinking, “Oh, shit, we just sent the XO off to die in ritual combat,”’ Cortez said, beer in hand, ‘and then she moves like a shot, quicker than you can see, stabs Korta in the arm, flips him down… total badass.’

‘And I missed it?’ Drake said, incredulous. ‘You made me patch up the King while you, the Chief Engineer, wandered off to just watch the trial by combat?’

‘Perks of rank, I guess,’ said Cortez, airily taking a sip.

‘So let me get this straight.’ Kharth leaned across their table in Endeavour’s lounge. ‘You had reason to believe this Korta was a terrorist but the only way you could do anything about it was in formal combat?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Klingons.’

‘See, this is why you weren’t brought along,’ Cortez pointed out. ‘Or there’d have been a hate crime.’

‘That’s because I’m Romulan. Not because I’m sarcastic.’

‘If Klingons stab you for being sarcastic, that’s not a hate crime,’ said Drake. ‘Those are just consequences.’

Kharth rolled her eyes, fighting a smirk. ‘Anyway, Cortez, when did you become the XO’s big fan? I thought she hated you.’

‘They got drunk together on the Klingon ship,’ said Drake, knowing full-well that nothing of the sort had happened. He did know something was worth teasing, though.

‘No! I got drunk with the engineer. She just got me to bed.’ Cortez paused, and flushed. ‘I mean. ‘Cos I was drunk -’

Kharth lifted a hand. ‘I don’t want to know. Klingon space changed you.’

‘You’d have hated it,’ Cortez said.

‘I hated it,’ said Drake. ‘You got a cool adventure with a Klingon dinner party and a Klingon ritual combat and negotiating with Orions. I got stuck on a runabout for a week and almost blown up.’

‘With Thawn, no less,’ drawled Kharth.

Drake shifted his weight. ‘Yeah, well, she’s alright.’

Kharth narrowed her eyes. ‘Klingon space changed you, too.’

‘Sometimes first impressions can be deceiving,’ chattered Cortez. ‘Sometimes to change that you need risks to life and limb, or to watch them being a total badass in form-fitting armour -’

‘Definitely don’t want to know.’

But Drake had spotted someone else enter the lounge, and grabbed his drink. ‘Catch up with you later.’

‘You two used to be fun!’ Kharth called after him.

There had been no chance to talk on the flight back from T’lhab, so this was the first time he’d seen Thawn outside of a confined space since the fight. He caught her at the bar, bouncing onto the stool next to her. ‘Buy you a drink?’

She looked startled. ‘Uh, I’m meeting Elsa in about ten minutes…’

‘Then you have to drink something for the next ten minutes. It’s not like I’m actually paying for it. And you can put up with me until then.’ He waved down the bartender, and she ordered anyway. He glanced over and looked at the loose collar of her uniform. ‘Did you just come off a shift?’

‘Of course.’

‘Valance said she wouldn’t schedule us in for another 48 hours after the mission.’

‘I had work to catch up on.’ She took her small glass from the bartender with a polite smile and had a sip. ‘I don’t need you lecturing me on how much I work; I’ll get enough from Elsa.’

‘Yeah, well, she’ll be right.’

‘Did you want something?’ While she sounded pointed, she’d lost the edge of a week ago. It was almost, if he dared think it, playful.

‘We just spent the last week in the same box. I think I’m getting a little separation anxiety now we’re out, that’s all.’

‘Then you could do a bridge shift.’

‘Before I gotta? I’m not that anxious.’ But his grin sobered. ‘Just thought maybe we should talk.’

‘Talk?’

‘C’mon. The whole telepathic near-death thing.’

She stirred her drink. ‘I thought I explained that.’

‘I get it. It’s like a mental hand-hold. But it’s like…’ He squinted at her. ‘I dunno if you’re different or if I’m just seeing you different.’

Thawn looked at her glass, then let out a slow breath. ‘Both. It’ll be both, Drake. You don’t go through something like that without understanding the other person better. We’ve been inside each other’s minds, if only for a moment.’

‘But I didn’t learn anything – like, I know exactly as little about you as I did before.’ He paused, then blew out his cheeks. ‘Except I realise you aren’t pissed at me personally, so much as pissed at… at anyone after what happened to Pierce. And I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I’m in his seat. So I guess I realise you’ve not been being an asshole to me.’

‘I have,’ she said quietly. ‘But I’ve realised that’s not fair.’

Cortez had, he thought, probably been onto something about taking a second look after a bad first impression.

‘Sounds to me,’ said Drake, lifting his beer, ‘that you and me are due a fresh start.’

Her smile was tight, but sincere. ‘I’ll drink to that, at least.’

‘Oh-ho,’ he laughed as they tapped glasses. ‘You do lighten up. Listen, while you’re on it, you know we have these clothes called civvies; you traditionally wear them when off-duty. I know discovering your uniform loosens is a big step, but now you’ve made it this far…’

* *

Valance found Airex in one of his remaining science labs. ‘Another diagnostic on those atmospheric sensors?’

‘A necessity,’ he said tautly, ‘with anthropology turned into Rourke’s War Room.’

‘CIC.’

‘Oh, my mistake. Combat Information Centre.’ He tapped a screen. ‘I’ve had to make significant reallocations of my department’s resources. Not everything is running as well as I’d like.’ But he straightened, and gave an anxious smile. ‘I hear the mission was a success.’

‘Probably. We haven’t confirmed the intelligence.’ It would have been a lot, she thought, to go through for nothing.

Airex nodded and returned to his work. ‘How were the Klingons?’

‘The usual,’ she sighed. ‘I… you may have been right.’

‘I often am, you’ll have to narrow it down.’

‘Bringing my baldric. I got further as a Klingon warrior than I did as a Starfleet officer.’ She folded her arms and leaned against a console, scowling at nothing.

‘That’s hardly a surprise.’ He didn’t look up. ‘You were dealing with other Klingons. In an environment where I cannot imagine being the outsider conferred much advantage.’ He glanced at her. ‘It rarely does.’

‘It’s not how I wanted it to happen. We’re a Starfleet crew, we were on a Starfleet mission, and for all my years in Starfleet the most valuable talent I had to bring was being a Klingon.’

‘Why do you view that as a weakness?’ Now he frowned at her. ‘You’re an officer of many skills. You didn’t succeed because you walked onto that station with forehead ridges, you succeeded because you knew how to handle the culture of our closest allies better than anyone on the ship.’

She shifted her feet. ‘Lindgren helped.’

‘Elsa Lindgren helps everyone on board be better. Captain MacCallister relied on her constantly. Besides.’ He straightened. ‘You said I was right. Stop arguing with me now.’

‘I said you were right, not that I liked it.’

He tossed his hands in the air. ‘I don’t know how to explain to you that you’re a well-regarded officer on Endeavour for many reasons, and hardly any of them have anything to do with your Klingon heritage and knowledge.’

Valance let out a slow breath. ‘Cortez said much the same.’

Airex set his hands on his hips and cocked his head. ‘She did, did she?’

‘Don’t look at me like that.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I had her, Lindgren, Thawn, and Drake on the mission. Who else was I supposed to talk to?’

‘I see that; you’re so generally eager to discuss your personal problems,’ he drawled. ‘Especially when you had the old man’s confidante to hand. I understand why you talked to someone you’ve just met who’s put you on the back foot repeatedly.’

‘I – she -’ Valance’s shoulders slumped. ‘I misjudged her. Not just thinking her racist, but she’s… astute, good with people… kind.’

Airex watched her. ‘I’m glad you had that support. You don’t easily… neither of us easily show ourselves to others…’

‘No.’ But Valance’s frown deepened, and she looked at him. ‘Which is why I’m here. Because you gave me that PADD, and I used the information on it. It turned out it was enough to convince a whole ship of Orion pirates to fight to rescue the King Arthur. Dav…’ She winced. ‘Who or what are the Myriad?’

His jaw tightened. ‘I said you shouldn’t ask questions.’

‘It saved the mission, it certainly saved Thawn and Drake’s lives. It’ll get out, because Cortez and Lindgren saw it and while they’re discreet, it’s now a secret with legs.’

He looked away. ‘I expect you’ve examined Starfleet’s databanks on the topic.’

‘No. No, I asked my friend.’

‘Then as my friend… drop it.’ His gaze returned to her. ‘I promise you that there’ll be no retribution for using the name, nothing like that. There’s no hidden price, no fallout. No consequences.’

‘I’m not asking out of fear.’ Valance grimaced. ‘I won’t lie about it, either. ‘

‘Then I’ll handle that when asked.’

‘You mean you’ll lie to Rourke.’ She cocked her head. ‘But not to me.’ He just met her gaze, and Valance sighed. ‘Alright. You told me not to ask questions.’

Airex’s shoulders slumped. ‘Thank you. I’m glad it helped.’

‘It did. Like I said, it saved Drake and Thawn’s lives, probably saved the entire mission. If we both had to do things we weren’t comfortable with to succeed – to get this information on the Wild Hunt – then at least we’re not alone.’

‘No.’ Airex grimaced. ‘And we’re a step closer to finding these bastards.’

And nowhere closer, Valance thought as she saw his expression close off, even after all these years, to really showing ourselves to each other.