‘Outta the way!’

Docking facilities on starbases were always roiling masses of activity and crowds, a buzz of people coming and going, preparing to depart or arriving from long, tiresome journeys. But the docking section for Starfleet ships at Starbase Bravo was rather more sedate, tempered by uniforms and discipline and the expectations of decorum.

Which was why a young ensign almost bowling over a pair of petty officers before vaulting one of the barricades earned more than a few turned heads. A gruff-looking Docking Chief called out, but for once the commanding voice of a veteran enlisted did nothing to halt a junior officer in their tracks.

There was no crowd at the open airlock to board the USS Endeavour, no obstacle, and still the ensign ran full-pelt until he reached the officer at the far side, who raised a hand with a gaze that would brook no more haring about. ‘That’ll do, Ensign.’

‘I got – I got -’ The young man bent over, huffing for breath, before shoving a PADD into the lieutenant’s hands. ‘Orders.’

The Tellarite lieutenant took them to read without much expression. ‘New arrivals briefing started…’

‘About two minutes ago, yeah, that’d be why I ran.’

The lieutenant harrumphed, then handed back the PADD. ‘Meeting room down the hall. Welcome aboard, Nathaniel -’

‘It’s Nate. Oh, you were just trying to full-name me – you don’t care. Cheers.’ Shoving the PADD back into the carryall slung over his shoulder, the newest arrival aboard Endeavour was transformed yet again into a black-gold blur as he hurtled down the corridor.

The door to the room to which he’d been directed was open, a crowd gathered inside that Nate slipped into the rear of. Too many were inside to take seats at the meeting table, cramming twenty or so of them at one side of the room while a pair of officers stood at the far end, a burly Andorian ensign in red and a severe-featured Romulan lieutenant in gold. The lieutenant had been talking, but piercing eyes noticed his arrival, and narrowed as she stopped.

‘…I’ll start again, will I?’

‘Sorry, Lieutenant.’ Nate gave the loud whisper of an interloper trying to speak without intruding. ‘Transport 17-A was delayed -’

‘Not this badly, it wasn’t.’ Her gaze raked over the crowd, and with a wince he noticed a petty officer who’d definitely been on his transport. She cleared her throat. ‘So, again, I am Lieutenant Kharth, Chief of Security. Welcome aboard Endeavour. You’ll find the ship is undergoing extensive repairs and maintenance after engagements in the Archanis Sector, and many of the staff have taken this opportunity for leave. So for the next couple days you might be reporting to acting department heads – unless you’re engineers, in which case Bravo’s Maintenance Manager will find work for you.’

Nate leaned down to a gold-shirted petty officer next to him. ‘Sucks to be an engineer right now, huh?’ he whispered.

Their expression shifted to surprised indignation. ‘It’s – it’ll be fine, we’re here to work.’

‘Oh. You’re an engineer.’ Nate tilted his head this way and that. ‘Sucks.’

‘Ensign!’ At the front, Lieutenant Kharth had snapped her fingers, eyes locked on him. ‘You arrived late; are you trying to make up for lost time by pissing me off more efficiently?’

Nate subsided. ‘Sorry, Lieutenant.’

Kharth rolled her eyes and picked up her PADD. ‘Your quarters assignments are being sent to you right now, your luggage will be transported there directly, and your respective department heads – or acting department heads – will have details ready for your orientation sessions and first shifts. So that’ll be all, you can get settled in, thank you for your time.’

As her spell over the new arrivals broke and the crowd began to stir and move, Nate blew out his cheeks. ‘Some welcome,’ he mused to the engineer, who looked like he expected to be shouted at again merely for associating with him.

Before he could escape, however, Kharth’s voice rose above the crowd. ‘Ensign Loudmouth! Indulge me with your attention, and try to not get distracted five seconds in!’

The engineer fled, looking happy to not be associated with him, and Nate suppressed a sigh as he shouldered through the departing officers to the table. The burly Andorian remained next to Kharth, arms folded across his chest, while she ticked things off her PADD.

At last, as the final stragglers departed, she looked up at him. ‘Doctor Awan wanted me to catch you,’ Kharth said, voice clipped. ‘She’s over at Starbase Bravo’s main infirmary today for a consult, so you should get settled in and catch up with her there. She’ll bring you up to speed.’

Nate squinted. ‘I’m not – why do I need to talk to a doctor?’

Kharth looked at him like he was stupid. ‘To report in. Doctor Sadek isn’t back for another day or so.’

‘Okay.’ He gave an apologetic grin. ‘I’m not a medical officer.’

Another pause. Kharth consulted her PADD. ‘You’re not Ensign Alerok, the new nurse?’

‘Nope. Sorry.’ Now his smile turned unapologetic. ‘I thought this might happen; this assignment was all a bit last-minute, but it was on your captain’s say-so, so I guess you’ve just gotta roll with the bureaucracy. I’m the new Archaeology and Anthropology officer. Nate Beckett.’ He shrugged. ‘And in case you’re wondering, the answer’s “yes.”’

Kharth’s expression did not change. ‘Explains a lot. In which case, your department head is Commander Airex, who’s in command until your good friend Captain Rourke is back.’ She snapped her fingers dismissively in the direction of the broad Andorian. ‘Arys here is the captain’s yeoman and he was so keen to help me out today, so can field your questions about getting settled, rather than you bugging the commander while he’s got a ship to run.’

Arys gave a stern smile of the painfully earnest young officer. ‘I’d be happy to help Ensign Beckett. I can give him a tour and -’

‘Whatever,’ said Kharth. ‘I have new security officers to run orientation for. That’ll be all.’

She left the room at that, and Nate Beckett raised an eyebrow at Arys. ‘So, with half the crew out, the acting captain sent the best people-person he could find to play welcome wagon, huh?’

Arys didn’t smile. ‘Lieutenant Kharth is acting first officer because she has seniority in the absence of Captain Rourke, Commander Valance, and Commander Cortez. Commander Airex is acting captain. You’d do well to listen to the Lieutenant; she knows what she’s talking about.’

‘You mean, she’s always like this? This wasn’t a hazing?’ Beckett gave a lopsided grin. ‘You can tell me.’

Arys’s expression pinched more, and he straightened without answering. ‘We’ll begin with a tour of all major locations. Then to the emergency check-points, and then your crew quarters section…’

Beckett made a face as he followed. ‘These are all on the ship layout,’ he pointed out. ‘Clearly marked. I graduated Starfleet Academy; I can read directions, c’mon, Arys.’

Arys stopped at the door. ‘It’s “Ensign,” or “sir.”’

‘Why? We’re the same rank.’

‘I have operational authority.’

‘Of the tour?’ His PADD blatted at him, and Beckett ignored Arys’s indignant expression to pull it out. ‘Oh, hey, my crew quarters assignment. 2-Beta-13. With a map.’

‘Listen.’ Arys put his hands on his hips. ‘A tour means you have a good understanding of what’s where ahead of your departmental orientation.’

‘I’m going to get this again at orientation?’ Beckett stared. ‘Okay, I’m outta here. Kharth’s exact response to you suggesting this tour was, “whatever,” so…’

Arys’s lip curled. ‘I suppose her immediate judgement of you was accurate enough, then, Beckett?’

‘Oh, Arys, pal, no.’ Beckett shook his head with a condescending smile. ‘It’s clearly above your pay-grade to put two and two together. I get it, this is you trying to act like the big dog, like you’re more important than me because you do paperwork for the captain -’

‘I have direct access to the captain, who expects -’

‘Who’s on leave right now.’ Beckett tucked his PADD away and gave him a thumbs-up. ‘This was fun. We should do this again some time. When you remember we’re both the same rank and I can read directions.’ This time, he didn’t give Arys enough time to gather a response, merely turned away to head down the corridor, bag slung over his shoulder, resisting the urge to whistle. That’d be a step too far.

But it got him around the corner before being stopped, which, after all, was what mattered. Then he could double-check the damn map.

* *

‘Captain Rourke, Doctor Logan; welcome back.’ Lieutenant Lindgren’s warm smile brightened the boarding airlock as Rourke stepped between the sliding doors two days later.

‘Elsa! You promised you’d take some time away,’ he said with a gentle warning, hand coming to her shoulder.

‘I only got back yesterday, sir, don’t worry. How was your trip?’

‘Well, trips; we just caught a ride together,’ said Josie cheerfully. ‘So all we can say for sure are two different bits of Earth are still there. I’ll let you catch up on business, Matt.’

Rourke nodded as she left, then headed down the main corridor, Lindgren falling into step beside him. ‘Do you show up like this just to make Arys feel bad?’

‘Arys might not have taken leave, but I’m still better connected to the gossip networks than him,’ she pointed out. ‘Though depressingly, there’s not much to report there. I think almost everyone took your advice and managed their recovery after Archanis.’

‘Almost everyone?’

‘Scuttlebutt has it that Lieutenant Kharth has been dodging Counsellor Carraway.’

‘You shock me,’ Rourke sighed. ‘But if she’s the only culprit, I’ll consider it a win.’

‘Yes, sir. I assume you found Earth relaxing?’

He cocked his head at her. ‘Oh, I get it. You’re scoping out if I took time for myself.’ He smirked. ‘I saw my daughter. I caught up with old friends and former colleagues at the Academy. Believe it or not, it was the best time I’ve had on Earth in ages, and that includes living there for two years. What did you do?’

‘Went to see my parents, sir. They’re serving on Providence Fleet Yards these days, so it wasn’t far. And it might be lovely to see them, but one week was enough. The rest was a break on Japori. Restaurants and museums and bars.’ Her smile was all innocence. ‘Don’t worry. I’m well-rested.’

‘Good. I think we might need it.’ He sighed, tension rising in his chest sooner than he’d have liked. ‘Who’s back of the senior staff?’

‘Commanders Valance and Cortez got in late last night, Doctor Sadek this morning. Lieutenants Drake and Thawn aren’t due until tomorrow.’

‘Okay. What’s our refit status?’

‘Ah, technically complete, but of course Commander Cortez is double-checking everything for herself.’ Lindgren tilted her head. ‘We need to be underway?’

‘We do. Within twenty-four hours.’ He sighed. ‘I need a shower after being crammed on that transport for the last leg, but get the senior staff in the conference room in a half-hour, and see if you can get Drake and Thawn to double-time their return.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She frowned. ‘Is this bad?’

‘It’s not fate-of-a-sector bad. But it is lives-in-the-balance bad.’

That was all he could – would – share until the staff were assembled thirty minutes later. He’d not done more than toss his luggage onto a sofa in his quarters and scrub off the grime of a ten-hour ride in a cramped shuttle seat, but still the senior staff made it to the conference room before him, all likely eager, or at least ready, for work after long weeks of downtime.

‘Good to see you all,’ he said sincerely but brusquely as he came in, heading at once for his seat at the top of the table. ‘I hope you’re all rested, and it’d be great to hear your holiday tales, but we’ll have time for that later. We need to be ready for kick-off.’

If Valance was well-rested, he couldn’t tell. She looked as neat and presentable as ever, hands clasped on the meeting table. ‘Do we have our next assignment?’

‘We do. Cortez, how soon until we can depart?’

Cortez looked pained. ‘Technically? Twelve hours. I’d like to run a few tests of the new systems, but I guess that’s not gonna happen?’

‘You’ll have time for that between here and the old Neutral Zone. Cut the umbilical between us and Bravo and prep to set off. Any stragglers on leave might have to catch up or reroute to Devron Fleet Yards to wait for us.’ Rourke leaned back and used his PADD to thumb on the wall-display. A star-map appeared showing a region of the Neutral Zone, and, adjacent, the image of a bearded man of evidently some Vulcan heritage, the picture looking like a professional headshot.

‘This is Doctor Karl T’Sann of the Daystrom Institute Archaeological Council. He and his team were working in the Vashod Sector when they missed a check-in three weeks ago. The Institute reached out to local contacts to find out if something had gone wrong, and this morning they received a report of a sighting on Teros IV. It appears he’s been captured by the Romulan Rebirth movement and is being held against his will. We’re to proceed to Teros and secure his recovery.’

Rhade looked up and down the table. ‘I apologise; the “Romulan Rebirth movement?”’

‘A paramilitary organisation,’ said Airex softly, ‘operating in the old neutral zone and trying to maintain the integrity of Romulan culture after the supernova.’

‘Violent xenophobes,’ Kharth said more bluntly, then looked up at Rourke. ‘What was T’Sann looking into?’

‘There’s apparently a rich black market of Romulan artifacts in the region,’ said Rourke. ‘He was trying to gain access to it.’

‘The Rebirth will either be selling off artifacts to fund themselves,’ said Kharth, still rather dismissive, ‘or they’ll hate a Vulcan trying to get his hands on them. Or both.’

‘I’m awaiting a full report from both the Institute and Starfleet Intelligence,’ Rourke admitted, ‘but we can receive and study that en route. I wanted you all to understand why we need to depart ahead of schedule. Lives hang in the balance. We don’t have any confirmed intel on the other three of T’Sann’s team, but he’s our starting point. So get ready to set off, and we’ll all have a lovely catch-up about what we did on our holidays once we’re squared away. Right? Carry on.’

It was more brusque than he’d have liked, but he knew how this would be, a traditional case of ‘hurry up and wait’ as everyone changed schedules and redoubled their efforts to meet the twelve-hour deadline, only to sit around for days on end as they raced to the Teros System. He could touch base with the hearts of his crew later.

So Rourke was relieved when the sole member of the senior staff to hang behind was Commander Airex, perhaps the least-likely to discuss anything personal. He sat up. ‘I’ll pass on the Institute’s report, Commander, as soon as I get it -’

‘That’s not what this is about, sir.’ Ruining Rourke’s relief, Airex shifted in his seat uncomfortably. ‘It’s Lieutenant Kharth.’

‘She obviously has an opinion on the Romulan Rebirth movement.’

‘More pressingly, sir, she has an opinion on Teros IV.’ Airex hesitated. ‘It was the Refugee Hub she and her father were evacuated to from Romulus. She lived there until she left for Starfleet Academy.’

Rourke sighed. ‘So she knows the world and its major players. I expect that was a deeply unpleasant few years, though?’

Airex winced. ‘It’s not my story to tell, sir. But I know she respects and trusts you. I would speak with her.’

Rourke watched him for a long moment, this cold and reserved man whose expressions of empathy still felt so wild and unpredictable. ‘I will,’ he said at length. ‘Though I expect there’ll be benefit in your departments cooperating if we’re after a missing archaeologist who might have been abducted for chasing the lost artifact black market.’

‘Yes, sir. Which – one more thing.’ Airex clasped his hands, more professional but still with a hint of apprehension. ‘You arranged the last-minute assignment of a new A&A officer. Who would, of course, be the best person in the department, aside from myself, to take point on this with Security.’

With a groan, Rourke scrubbed his face with his hand. ‘Beckett. Right. I’d hoped for a bit more time to handle that.’ He drew his hand down. ‘Has he been difficult?’

‘We’ve barely talked,’ Airex admitted. ‘Lieutenant Veldman handled his orientation. But I noted the name and I checked his personnel records…’

‘I assure you, Commander, I haven’t brought aboard Admiral Beckett’s son just to please his father. Nate Beckett deserves a chance. But I will make sure I speak with Lieutenant Kharth.’ Rourke intentionally kept it vague if he’d speak with her about both Teros and Ensign Beckett; the latter was much less Airex’s business.

Thankfully, Airex seemed more than happy to drop the topic there, his light touch of interference finished. ‘Of course, sir. His records are… slim, but I’ll decide for myself,’ he said, standing up. ‘I’ll familiarise myself with the work of Doctor T’Sann in the meantime. Thank you, sir.’

Rourke nodded absently as Airex left, then slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. Cramped travel was always exhausting. Swinging immediately back into action was not how he’d hoped to end the weeks of leave, and already the tension in his chest felt tiring in a familiar way. Perhaps the long flight to Teros without anything exploding would soothe that, or merely a night’s sleep in his own bed.

He rose, brow furrowed, and idly walked the length of the conference room, fingertips trailing across the smooth table surface, eyes drifting across the models of Endeavour’s predecessors Captain MacCallister had made sure were on display on the wall. He’d just spent weeks on Earth, the world where he’d grown up, the world where he’d lived for two years before this assignment, and yet these decks and bulkheads felt like the warming embrace of home wrapping around him. When, he wondered, had that happened?

Rourke reached the final model, that of the Manticore-class Endeavour herself, and tapped it on the prow. ‘Alright, girl,’ he murmured, voice low and wry. ‘You got me for good. Let’s not make this next adventure another apocalypse, right?’

The light was so bright and clear in the gardens it felt like the air itself hummed. Rosara Thawn had not visited the seat of the Twelfth House of Betazed, of the head of her household, in many years. But to walk the long gravel path winding through the emerald sea of a lawn, to smell the heart-shaped petals of the Judrain flowers bowing from the hedgerows in their golds and pinks, was like stepping into a memory. More than the heady scents and bright colours and warm sunlight; along with all of this came a swell of emotions. Nostalgia. Apprehension. A lot of guilt.

Anatras Thawn sat on the garden patio overlooking the fountains, the rising towers of the ancient house crumbled and rebuilt over and over for a thousand years soaring behind her. She had ensured two cups of steaming tea, leaves sourced and grown in gentle nearby lands, were freshly poured and sat on the tidy table before her. As Rosara approached, Anatras neither rose nor reached out; instead, Rosara could feel the matriarch’s presence in her mind, an ebullient grasp that was both sincere and made Anatras’s hostly dominion plain.

Rosara! Such a delight to see you; it’s been so long since you visited. You must sit and tell me everything…

Rosara knew better than to not, and was talented enough in her telepathic gifts to express the boundless affection her great-aunt expected without letting one shred of guilt or fear slip through. And so despite linking their minds and thoughts and feelings, their exchanges and greetings and catch-ups went as they might for the non-telepathic: full of courtesies and niceties, of obligatory news and obligatory exclamations, all shuffled and dealt like a pack of cards on family etiquette.

So you’re returning to your ship soon, mused Anatras at last, reaching for her tea. It’s ever so kind of you to make time for me before you leave. The matriarch did not attempt to hide the question inside the comment; the curiosity and the blossoming judgement.

It was harder to use tea to delay a response when one could communicate by thought. But old habits died hard, and so Rosara made sure she picked over her teacup, stirred in some fresh sweetroot, and took a slow sip before she opened her mouth and replied by saying out loud, ‘I thought it best we talk – we meet. Adamant Rhade now serves aboard my ship.’

Anatras Thawn’s eyes hardened, and Rosara wasn’t sure if the gaze of dark iron was from speaking aloud or from the subject raised. At last, she sniffed and straightened and said, ‘I know,’ in a tone one did not need to be telepathic to hear the chill within. ‘He most courteously wrote to me ahead of his posting and assured me there nothing inappropriate about his intentions.’

Rosara glanced away at the word ‘inappropriate,’ lost for a moment what that could mean. ‘We’ve talked, of course,’ she said, ploughing through in her uncertainty. ‘You must understand, Aunt, that we are both – we both have lives and careers…’

‘And nobody expects your arrangement to be fulfilled at once. Adamant informed me of that, as well. He has always been very considerate of the expectations and agreements; he’s said what he wants, what he intends, and has made this what it should be: a negotiation on the future. Not a dictate from us.’

Again, one did not have to be telepathic to sense the implied criticism. Rosara wondered if she was being at all successful in shielding her thoughts and feelings by speaking aloud, but she would not surrender the defensive ground now. ‘No matter what negotiations are held,’ she said delicately, ‘you are speaking of an arrangement between you and his grandmother that was made over twenty years ago, when we were both children, and which nobody can be bound to -’

‘Oh, fie!’ came Anatras’s frustrated outburst. ‘It is an arranged bond, child, yes. But do not leap to Federation laws and customs as if the ways of your family are some backwards injustice forced upon you.’

Rosara’s throat tightened. ‘If all I can do is negotiate the how and the when, but not make a decision on the if, then surely it is forced upon me.’

‘Is that what this meeting is about?’ Anatras leaned forward. ‘You would have me speak with Adamant’s grandmother and tell him the arrangement is dissolved? Open us to such shame and embarrassment? Your parents? Yourself?’ Her eyes narrowed, and Rosara felt her thoughts nudge against hers. Shall I do so at once? If it is your wish, the sooner the better. I can send word within the hour.

Hesitation slipped through before Rosara could marshal it, and she fought to keep her words aloud, even as she faltered. ‘I don’t wish – I want to simply make it clear -’

‘That you can end it,’ Anatras huffed as she reached for her tea. Neither spoke for some time, the Betazoid matriarch’s dark eyes sweeping across the perfect gardens of her domain. ‘But you would not yet end what you know is an arrangement made with your best interests in mind, to a good young man who will be a fine match, who will make a good partner. I suppose I should have expected this rebellion sooner or later, however much I and your parents worked to ensure we selected someone who would make you happy.’

Rosara considered, then abruptly rejected, debating how they could have such certainty of a match made when she was an infant. At last she settled on, ‘This isn’t a criticism of Adamant.’

‘I should think not,’ sniffed Anatras. ‘It’s quite natural to be apprehensive, child. But you’d find that even if you went forth into the galaxy and selected some young thing yourself. There is no certainty in matters of the heart.’ Rosara hadn’t realised her expression or thoughts had betrayed her, but at once Anatras swatted her arm with the back of her hand. ‘Oh, fie, you think you’re the only young Betazoid whose heart wandered ahead of their arranged match?’

‘It’s not – I can’t -’ Now guilt swam together with grief and no small panic, and all Rosara could manage was to blaze across in thought not just the words, but the dreadful cocktail of emotion that came with the elaboration: He’s dead.

Anatras’s expression fell, and her swat turned into a clasp of her hand. ‘Our hearts may hold a lot of love, child. Why would Adamant be your first, or last, or only, when you barely know him? Why would I want you to spend years upon years waiting on joy? He is to be a partner in your life. Not to be your life.’ She shifted in her chair, and reached to take Rosara’s other hand. ‘Take heed.’

Anatras’s words now flowed through thought and feeling, the warmth tinged with a matronly condescension that was, at least, sincere in its affections and that Rosara begrudged herself for finding comforting. Take your time and take your adventures and use them to know yourself and this galaxy. Use this unusual gift of having this man beside you for a time while you owe him nothing and he owes you nothing. Live and feel. You can’t possibly tell me you don’t want Adamant Rhade, child, because by no means, under any sun in this galaxy, do you know what you want. And when you do, whatever you choose, we will talk anew.

Rosara found one hand slipping free before she knew it, brushing an errant tear from her cheek, but Anatras did not let go of the other hand. Rosara looked away and nodded quickly, and for once was grateful that she did not need command of her voice to reply. Thank you. I’m sorry.

‘Don’t be sorry, child.’ Anatras squeezed her hand and let go at last. ‘This is the first step on the path of you deciding your future. And you understand I’m your ally in this, not your obstacle. Now.’ She turned her head towards the house, and Rosara felt the faint hum of thought intended not for her, but the staff who would soon enough come bustling out with a fresh pot of tea. ‘Your trip ends tomorrow. Back to your ship. Tell me of the stars.’

* *

Kharth remembered the sun of Teros as harsh, blinding, unforgiving, but its tiny light on the CIC map felt like a mockery, not a diminishing. It vanished as Dathan tapped it, the holographic display expanding to preview the intelligence report drawn from Endeavour’s databanks.

‘Our information on Teros is quite dated,’ Dathan was admitting as Kharth tuned back in. ‘A Starfleet ship hasn’t visited since 2395. We weren’t sure if the Romulan Rebirth movement had a foothold until the Daystrom Institute handed over their contacts’ findings. But they named the suspected abductor – or at least, someone who’s detaining Doctor T’Sann on the planet – and Starfleet Intelligence sourced this six month-old image. Note the armband.’

Kharth folded her arms across her chest as a fresh picture popped up on the display, and was glad Dathan wasn’t looking at her. ‘That’s Vortiss.’

Now Dathan did give her a sidelong glance. ‘You know him.’

‘That’s the thing about the Romulan Rebirth movement,’ Kharth sighed. ‘They’re not fresh, new political faces. They’re the same old thugs and brutes who always ran these refugee worlds, but now they can pretend to be ideologues. Vortiss was settled on Teros with the first evacuations. I’d call him the leading crime boss, but that would require local laws to exist for him to break them. Being a part of the Rebirth means he now has a network of like-minded gang leaders to share… apparently kidnapping with.’

Dathan closed the image. ‘If you know that much, I don’t think I have more for you. We only have what Intel has had the time and inclination to get from second-hand sources. It’s not a very important place. Vortiss works out of what Starfleet still records as District Alpha, from the evacuation protocols, and that’s where T’Sann was spotted.’

‘Locals will know more.’ Kharth swallowed. ‘This is more than enough to go on, Lieutenant. Thank you.’

‘Hm.’ The CIC’s display was shut down entirely. ‘I’m not sure I told you anything you couldn’t have figured out for yourself.’

‘There’s a difference between guessing and knowing.’ Kharth turned to leave, then hesitated. ‘If you could keep leaning on what contacts you have for the most up-to-date intelligence, Lieutenant, I’d appreciate it. Familiarity is sometimes an obstacle to analysis.’ She left at that, trying to not stomp, trying to not sink into her own thoughts as she headed back to the main security offices.

It was evident she’d failed when she was startled out of distracting thoughts by the sight of Lieutenant Rhade in the office bullpen, turning from his chat with Lieutenant Juarez to greet her. ‘Lieutenant Kharth.’

‘Rhade.’ She frowned at him, then clicked her fingers. ‘We had a meeting. I’m sorry, I was being briefed by Dathan. My office?’

‘Of course. And the mission takes precedence. My matter isn’t urgent.’

She suppressed a scowl at his easy amiability as he followed her to her office, irrationally irritated at how he took her oversight in stride. ‘What is it?’

He watched as she sat behind her desk, eyebrows raised a millimetre in curiosity. ‘I wanted to discuss staffing the Hazard Team.’

She swallowed her lingering resentment at his control of the team. ‘You’ve picked your replacements for Palacio and Otero?’

‘Not exactly. I’m considering adjustments to the team composition. They were excellent for the direct assaults we faced against the Wild Hunt and D’Ghor. But first, I want to draw less from the Security Department where possible; losing Otero as the ship’s Armoury Officer had a knock-on effect.’

She shifted her weight. ‘We adapted.’

‘But we don’t have to, now,’ he pointed out. ‘I want to move Baranel to the team quartermaster position, and from there he can liaise with your new Armoury Officer. But rather than fill Palacio and Otero’s spaces, I want to establish a Beta Team with more technological or scientific skills, who’ll train with the team and deploy on missions that specifically need them. Likely junior officers.’

‘Will they have the necessary experience?’

‘All candidates will have at least a year of service, and I won’t select anyone I don’t think can defend themselves,’ Rhade assured her. ‘With permission, I’d like to book the holodecks and run some trials. I’m thinking Forrester, Arys, Athaka; Harkon has been an excellent pilot but that doesn’t preclude her, and it might even make it sensible for her to train with the team. Oh, and that new fellow in Science, Beckett.’

Her throat tightened again. ‘It’s your team, Lieutenant.’

He straightened. ‘And you’re the Training Officer. I’ve no intention of unilateral -’

‘I have a mission to prepare for. Do as you see fit.’ She’d been more snappish than she intended, but now he’d picked up on it, she didn’t have the wherewithal to apologise or pull back. And while Rhade’s collected manner was infuriating, it meant he made no further comment in his polite departure.

She still swore as the door shut behind him, shoving herself to her feet. It wouldn’t do to throw something, so all she could do was pace, the walls of her office narrowing around her even as the idea of doing anything about that felt like acknowledging the irrational sense was real. When there was a fresh chime at her door what could have been minutes or years later, she couldn’t fight the fresh snap. ‘What?’

Which was of course when Captain Rourke walked in. He didn’t have half the courtesies of Rhade, hands on his hips as the doors shut behind him. ‘Hullo to you, too, Lieutenant.’

Her shoulders dropped. ‘Sorry, Captain. It’s being – what can I do for you?’

‘Believe it or not, this isn’t a bad tone to start on.’ He cocked his head. ‘I wanted to know how you’re doing.’

The tension in her chest returned, a bubble rather than a vice this time. ‘Why?’

He watched her a moment, but any expectation in his eyes was thwarted. Rourke sighed. ‘I know you grew up on Teros IV.’

Her scoff didn’t dislodge anything, just made it more choking, and she turned back to her desk. ‘Wrong, sir. I spent a few years there.’

‘Alright, you were evacuated to Teros after your homeworld was destroyed, abandoned there when the Federation withdrew its support, and lived there until the Academy. Which is quite a journey, and I expect it’s an unpleasant one.’

Kharth stared at a point on her desk. ‘That’s a statement, sir, not a question.’

A frustrated noise escaped Rourke’s lips. ‘Kharth, either we’re having a conversation or I’m ordering you to go and see Carraway. And encouraging him to be ruthless with your fitness for duty.’

She turned sharply, the bubble now a thudding, fuelling pulse. ‘Please, sir, tell me how I’ve failed in doing my duty after one briefing?’

But he didn’t budge. ‘We’re walking over your scars. This reaction doesn’t exactly suggest you’re handling it.’

‘Is it a privilege of rank, then, sir, that you hunted down who we thought was Erik Halvard without explaining yourself to anybody?’

‘Okay.’ Rourke now turned away. ‘Report to Counsellor Carraway at the end of your shift; I’ll instruct him to block out some time, and until he recommends otherwise, Lieutenant Juarez will take point on our rescue of Doctor T’Sann.’

Perhaps it was a bluff, but it was still enough like cold water to bring clarity, and she lifted a hand before he could leave. ‘Wait.’ But after the calm came frustration. ‘Sir, I may be a Starfleet officer, but I am also a Romulan, and you’re insisting I rush off and open up to someone.’

He hesitated, cautious. ‘You’re not seriously claiming I’m oppressing your culture if I don’t let you emotionally repress?’

‘I’m saying, sir, that you may be misunderstanding my reticence. It’s my last instinct to share my secrets, even if humans think that helps us manage burdens better.’

‘Protecting secrets to protect yourself is all well and good, Kharth, but what do you think Greg’s going to do with the information except help you better?’

‘Record it for my psychological profile,’ she said levelly. ‘Which will be read by my next counsellor, and the next, and the next. Because that’s his job. You can ask me to trust Carraway; do not ask me to trust these unknown officers. I need a better reason, especially when I’ve done nothing wrong.’

Rourke looked away and let out a slow breath. Then he ran a hand through his hair. ‘Fine. Will you talk to me? Have I earned that trust?’

She hesitated, but knew that apprehension came from instinct, knew that apprehension needed to be explored and challenged. ‘You’ve put a lot of trust in me so far, Captain. I – I suppose you’ve earned it.’ He looked back at her, and she met his gaze. Discussing secrets made her vulnerable and exposed, but saying them aloud to nothing didn’t help. She had to look the recipient in the eye when she handed him the knife, to know how true he was.

‘I was fourteen when my father and I arrived on Teros IV, part of an early wave of the Federation-supported evacuation,’ she said in a calm, level voice. ‘So it was meant to be a temporary shelter. But of course, the Federation withdrew support, so we were stuck there.’

‘Your mother was a naval captain, yes? Records are a little slim on details about her.’

‘Romulan records of the era are not exactly robust,’ she pointed out, but nodded. ‘I don’t know the full of it. Starship captains attempted to desert, she was among the loyalists trying to stop them, she died. That – there’s another story there, but at the end of it, my father and I didn’t have much protection from imperial authorities.’ She drove her fingernails into the palm of her hand as she continued. ‘She’d worked with Admiral Beckett in the Dominion War, and he was why my father and I were evacuated off Romulus at all. He’s also why I got a place at Starfleet Academy. But contacting him from Teros, not to mention securing me passage off-world and into Federation space, was all my father’s doing, and it wasn’t easy.’

‘That’s what Beckett has on you,’ Rourke sighed with realisation. ‘Where’s your father now?’

‘Dead,’ she said simply. The word felt distant, completely detached from the feelings she knew were out there somewhere. ‘Nine years ago, now. Teros IV isn’t an easy place to live. Captain, I expect there are locals I can reach out to, and I’m a Romulan going to a world the Rebirth movement’s now got a foothold on. You’d be stupid to bench me.’

Rourke’s jaw was tight, but he nodded. ‘Then here’s the deal, Kharth: you bloody well talk when I ask, okay? Don’t fob me off.’

‘Ask me fair questions, and I will give you a fair answer,’ came her level response, but she knew that was time to pivot. ‘Why did you let the admiral put his son on board to spy?’

The captain’s expression folded into a frown. ‘To spy? Nate Beckett’s not a spy, and his father had nothing to do with this posting. I taught him at the Academy. He’s good at his job.’

‘He graduated in the bottom third of his class.’

‘Admiral Beckett’s the reason you’re not space dust right now, or stuck on a refugee world, and you can’t stand his guts,’ Rourke pointed out. ‘Nate Beckett is not his father. Give the kid a chance.’ He, too, seemed to prefer to pivot, and rubbed his chin. ‘You know, I think I met your mother.’

She looked up. ‘Sir?’

‘My debt to Beckett’s from the war. That was my turn being his creature, his favourite, elevated to be useful and prized.’ The wryness came with that blend of affection and frustration, of resentment and gratitude that she knew all too-well. ‘I was his right hand on the USS Hood. We did a mission with the… the Tozara, that was it. Commander t’Kharth.’ He snorted gently. ‘Sorry, I can’t make this a heartwarming story. There was a meeting. I handed Beckett a PADD. She ignored me entirely.’

Taking control of her secrets, even as she shared them, had helped. But the chuckle felt more painful than the previous tension, and Kharth had to swallow it quickly. ‘I appreciate the thought, sir, but I remember her well enough.’

He nodded. ‘I want you to work with Airex and Beckett on this. We’re looking for an archaeologist – and his team – who might have been targeted for chasing the Romulan artifact black market. You’ll need to liaise.’

‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘It’s work. We might want to consider sending a runabout ahead of the ship; parking the Endeavour in orbit could be… provocative.’

‘Then write me a mission proposal. And figure out your team. That’ll just be recon – if there’s a rescue mission, I’m putting Endeavour in the field.’ But he nodded, and the tone shifted back to their relaxed professionalism, the comfortable shorthand and understanding of two seasoned security officers.

It did not occur to her to ask how he had learnt of her history on Teros. She presumed he had checked her records after she’d betrayed her familiarity with the Romulan Rebirth movement; such background was hardly a secret, but not the sort of thing she expected Rourke to keep in his head at all times.

That ignorance kept the tension in her chest more manageable than the truth might have.

‘So, uh, guys, this is my roommate, Nate.’ Ensign Athaka gave an awkward gesture as he pulled up a chair at the low table in the lounge.

‘You don’t need to sound apologetic for bringing me along, pal,’ Beckett said with wry amusement, and refused to feel apprehensive about joining the gathering. ‘Nate Beckett, here to interrupt your day and ruin your delicate social balance, apparently.’

The stern-faced human let out a low scoff. ‘Don’t mind Athaka. He apologises for breathing. Rightfully.’ She gave him a nod. ‘Tes Forrester, Engineering. That’s Harkon, Flight Control.’

Harkon, a bright-eyed Ktarian, sat forward with a wicked smile. ‘We hear you already butted heads with Lieutenant Kharth.’

Beckett cocked his head. ‘Is that hard?’

‘She can be prickly, but she’s not as bad as she seems.’

‘She absolutely is,’ grumbled Forrester. ‘It’s like a minefield dealing with that woman; do one invisible thing wrong, and she’ll hate you forever.’

Harkon’s smile softened affectionately. ‘Can’t imagine what dealing with someone like that’s like.’

‘Nate is also part of our, uh, training team,’ Athaka chipped in. ‘The one Rhade’s putting together.’

‘You mean the enormous distraction,’ said Forrester.

‘I mean,’ said Beckett, ‘the chance for some really cool away missions.’

She looked him up and down. ‘You’re Science. What exciting away missions do you get, looking at new rocks?’

‘Hey, I’m A&A. I like people. Even dead ones. What day trips do you get in Engineering?’

‘If I leave the ship, something’s gone wrong or I’m dealing with some wretched last-generation piece of junk from whatever backward society needs help today.’

‘Bastion of Federation enlightenment you are, Forrester,’ Beckett observed good-naturedly.

‘Don’t mind her, either,’ Harkon assured him. ‘She’s just in a mood because we left dock sooner than she’d have liked.’

‘What I’d have liked is a chance to double-check the redundancies in the EPS conduits they replaced on Starbase Bravo, seeing as we blew a whole section. And, you know, almost lost our damn chief.’

‘Sounds like a great story,’ Beckett said sincerely, even as his eyes were drawn away from the pool of ensigns to a figure approaching the bar. ‘But I gotta ask you to put a pin in it; need to catch up with someone.’

Forrester was grumbling even as he left, Athaka and Harkon obviously relieved she’d been stopped in her complaining tracks, but he didn’t look back as he approached the bar, making sure to straighten his shirt. He recognised his target from her personnel file even if they’d never met, even if she was now out of uniform, blonde hair let down, casual in a dress and jacket. His PADD beeped inside his jacket, a quick glance showing a non-urgent summons from Airex that he was sure could wait until he finished here.

He leaned against the bar beside the woman, bright smile ready. ‘Hi. You clearly have plans, but mind if we lightly chat work and flirt until those arrive?’

Lieutenant Elsa Lindgren shifted on the bar stool, looking him up and down with a gently amused, raised eyebrow. ‘Is the flirting light, or just the work talk?’

Beckett made a show of checking the time on his PADD. ‘I don’t know how long we’ve got, so I don’t want to over-promise.’ His grin turned easier. ‘I’m Nate Beckett. And I do actually have a spot of business, Lieutenant.’

‘I know who you are.’ Lindgren leaned over the counter to order a drink, and pushed her hair back as she looked him over. ‘Neither of us has a pip in sight, so I think it’s “Elsa,” not “Lieutenant,” but what can I do for you?’ She smirked. ‘Work-wise.’

He slid onto the bar stool next to her, hiding his grin behind a quick swig from his bottle. ‘You’re the best-qualified on the ship on the languages of former Romulan vassal races… and I have new records to go through on artifacts and texts hitting the old Neutral Zone black market I want to give a once-over before we get to Teros. So I was hoping A&A can borrow your very pretty eyes.’

‘They are almost a linguist’s best friend,’ Lindgren said with amusement.

Beckett leaned in, and made sure his grin was sufficiently over-the-top to soften flirtation with self-aware good humour. ‘Second, I expect, only to the tongue?’

‘Nate.’ Her expression lifted with mock-outrage, and she swatted him on the arm. ‘I’m obviously talking about my ears.’ Her drink arrived, and she stirred it as she watched him laugh. ‘1100 hours tomorrow, your lab. I’ll take a look at what you have and we can plan from there.’ She had a sip and straightened. ‘So, that’s work talk done; when does the light flirting begin?’

He laughed again, but couldn’t stop the flutter of unwelcome, serious apprehension. ‘Did my reputation precede me that much?’

‘I don’t know much about you,’ Lindgren admitted, ‘but when the son of the captain’s favourite admiral is assigned to Endeavour, I pay attention.’ Perhaps she caught his tension, or perhaps she wanted to keep the mood light, moving swiftly on. ‘I did hear you already upset the captain’s yeoman.’

‘Oh yes.’ Beckett shook his head wryly. ‘Rumour has it that he’d be even more upset to find me here, flirting with you.’

She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Why do I get the impression that’s why you’re doing it?’

‘It might be why I started, but I carried on because, what can I say? I had an attractive reception.’

Again she laughed, but her gaze slid past him and landed on the red-headed woman approaching the bar, looking rather more tired and worn in comfortable, dressed-down civvies. ‘And here are my actual plans for the evening.’ Lindgren slid off the stool to welcome her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘I thought you’d never make it back aboard, Rosara.’

‘I got back before we set off, but I have a lot of work,’ Rosara Thawn grumbled, but returned the hug. ‘Why do you have to make me look frumpy even at catch-up drinks in the bloody lounge, Elsa?’

Beckett gave her a warm smile, mind racing through his recollection of Endeavour’s senior staff records to put two and two together. ‘I think you’re selling yourself short on how good you look when you’re comfortable, Lieutenant.’

Lindgren put a hand on her arm as Thawn gave him a suspicious look. ‘Rosara, this is Nate Beckett, he’s a new A&A officer in Airex’s department. And he is trouble.’

He drained his synthale and hopped to his feet. ‘I promised to only be an interlude. I gotta check in with Commander Airex anyway. You ladies have a delightful evening.’

He got a grin and a wink from Lindgren as he left, the two women clearly committed to a catch-up of old friends he wouldn’t have stuck around for even if he didn’t have work. It was one thing to be playful with a pretty colleague in the lounge, but Beckett knew better than to out-stay his welcome. He also knew better than to show up at the lab without working through even the very faint buzz of the synthale, and walked to a more distant turbolift so he was clear-headed by the time he arrived.

The archaeology laboratories had significant facilities for safe study and storage of relics, but the adjacent anthropology lab was more of a planning space. The small chamber offered extensive displays for showing, recording, and organising information input or drawn from Endeavour’s databanks, and it was at the main holo-display that Commander Airex stood, brow furrowed, when Beckett arrived.

He looked him over. ‘Ensign. You’re out of uniform.’

Beckett raised his eyebrows. ‘You messaged me after my shift, Commander; I was in the lounge. Should I have stopped off to change?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ accepted Airex, immediately proving himself the kind of officer Beckett found endlessly frustrating. He gestured up to the lit display. ‘You’ve made progress with the Institute’s reports on black market trade.’

‘Some, yeah,’ said Beckett, padding over to join him. ‘But if we want to really know what’s going on there, we should check it out ourselves. Freecloud would be best.’

‘That’s not our job,’ Airex admonished. ‘Understanding the scope of this trade will help Security and Strategic Operations assess how significant it is for the Romulan Rebirth movement. The higher the stakes, the greater the danger to Doctor T’Sann.’

‘Sure, and I’m on it, sir. Just made plans for Lieutenant Lindgren to help get a handle IDing some of what’s being peddled – there’s some Yuyati artifacts in there, records from Inxtis… Romulan worlds and cultures we still don’t know much about.’ He couldn’t fight the rising enthusiasm, and grimaced at Airex’s chiding glance. ‘This helps us quantify the value of the market, and so far as we know, this kind of recon was what Doctor T’Sann was doing when they picked him up.’

Airex sighed, but nodded. ‘Understood. When you have to prioritise – not if, because you will run out of time to study all you want, Ensign – focus on operations and trade which could be flowing to and from Teros. Captain Rourke is going to leave Endeavour at the periphery of the system and send a runabout team to the surface to investigate without the potential disruption of putting a Federation starship in orbit. I’ll be leading the mission and I want you there. Just remember that Doctor T’Sann is the priority. This isn’t a trip to the shops.’

Beckett made a face. ‘Respectfully, sir, while this might be my first time in this sector, I know how things go on border world digs and purchase operations.’

‘Yes, I’ve seen your record, Ensign, but a year on the research teams from Starbase 514 isn’t -’

‘Oh, wow, no.’ Beckett straightened at Airex’s expression upon his interruption. ‘Sorry, Commander. Everyone’s really quick to connect me to my father, but, uh, I don’t know how hot you are on archaeological research, or if you just know about it from a past host or -’

‘This host is the xenoanthropologist, Beckett, spit it out.’

‘Right, uh – my mum’s Doctor Yvette Banks. So I basically grew up on archaeological research expeditions. I spent two years before the Academy in the former DMZ which, sure, isn’t as dangerous as the old Neutral Zone and – wait, you’re Davir Hargan, aren’t you?’

Airex looked faintly pained. ‘I am. I was.’

Beckett laughed. ‘Wow, I read your ethnography on Farius Prime at the Academy, that was some great stuff; the thickness… if you’ve got any field notes that didn’t get published I’d love to -’

‘Ensign.’ Airex’s gaze by now was chilling, cold water on any of the young officer’s glee or excitement. ‘You have your orders. Prepare for an away mission to a potentially hostile world beyond anyone’s jurisdiction, with locals likely be very unwelcoming to Starfleet.’

‘Sure. Sir.’ Beckett deflated. ‘I still reckon we should take any chance we get to help Doctor T’Sann’s project. No Starfleet ship’s been here in almost five years, and huge swathes of Romulan culture’s being stolen from its people to be flogged to the highest bidder. We can serve a bigger good.’

‘Teros IV isn’t a place for that.’

‘I’ll have to defer to your experience.’

Airex looked away, up at Beckett’s scrolling analysis, then shook his head. ‘I’ve never been. Anyway, you have your instructions, Ensign. Good evening.’

Beckett stared at the back of his department head as he left, then turned his eyes to the ceiling with an exaggerated sigh. ‘Yeah,’ he groaned. ‘That was really worth calling me in after my shift. This bloody ship.’

‘Turnabout is fair play,’ said Valance, stood in the door to Airex’s quarters. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’

He was in his bedroom, fastidious as he packed his carry-all, and didn’t look back at her. ‘Hullo to you, too.’ He zipped up his bag. ‘I don’t see the comparison except for leading a runabout mission. This has absolutely nothing to do with my personal apprehensions.’

‘Except the only personal apprehension of yours I know of is Kharth,’ she pointed out. ‘Who has reason to be tense on this mission and a track record of insubordination.’

‘She’s not behaved in any such way since coming aboard.’ Bag in hand, he returned to join her in the main room.

‘That’s what I’m worried about. That it’ll happen unexpectedly, and you’ll then have to rein her in.’ Valance hesitated. ‘I never asked what happened between the two of you. Before, you only talked about her like a… regret.’

Airex frowned. ‘We were together before I was Joined. Our relationship – I – changed afterwards. It didn’t last. It was unpleasant for us both; her partner was no longer the same man, and I… felt like I’d taken something from her, or betrayed her.’ He met her gaze. ‘And all of this has nothing to do with my capacity to act as her commanding officer on an away mission.’

‘If I had concerns about you professionally, we’d be talking with Rourke or in your office. I’m here as a friend.’

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I liked you more before hooking up with Cortez meant you had to spend more time with Carraway.’

‘I know,’ she said dryly. ‘I’m getting my emotions everywhere.’

He sighed, and looked away. ‘It’s difficult because there’s nobody to blame,’ Airex explained. ‘I know she’s angry at me, but I think she knows it’s irrational; it’s not as if Airex chose to change Davir so deeply it ended the relationship. It doesn’t help that Davir made somewhat naive promises to her ahead of the Joining, in ignorance.’

‘That’s why she finds it difficult,’ said Valance, watching him. ‘I care less about that.’

His shoulders dropped. ‘She makes me feel guilty,’ he admitted at last. ‘Which is irrational. Perhaps it makes me apprehensive of doing anything that’ll hurt her more. But have you ever known me to let my feelings get in the way of my duty?’ At her expression, he gave a tight smirk. ‘If you say anything the likes of which I might get from Carraway, we’re done here.’

That relieved some tension, and she chuckled. ‘Don’t worry. They haven’t made me that soft. But nobody else is going to ask you these things.’

He nodded. ‘I’m glad you’re doing well. That you and Cortez are doing well, I mean. I take it leave together wasn’t as terribly intense as it might have been?’

Valance made a face. ‘Archer IV is nice. I did meet her parents, but I think she tried harder than me to make sure that was only a fly-by visit. I spent a week on a beach with sun and a book, Airex; I don’t know what’s happening to me.’

‘Sounds dreadful,’ he deadpanned. ‘Truly a sign of the end times. Speaking of which, I want to make sure Drake hasn’t ripped the King Arthur apart before we set off.’

‘Mm.’ Her frown remained. ‘Keep an eye on him. I’m still not confident after Archanis.’

‘He did an excellent job in the battles. He’s a good pilot, and he understands life beyond the Starfleet mould. The latter is a rare talent on this ship, and it’s what I might need down there. I promise I won’t let him fly us into any mines.’ Airex slung his bag over his shoulder. ‘Your concern is appreciated.’

‘I never said I was concerned.’

‘Ah, but they’ve made you soft.’ He smirked. ‘This is reconnaissance. The hard work will be Rhade’s inevitable rescue mission. I’ll report back before tomorrow.’

They parted ways there, because stopping off at his quarters meant she didn’t have to walk him down to the shuttlebay, where anyone might think she was worried. She hadn’t been worried; her apprehensions about his professional capacity to manage a truculent Lieutenant Kharth were minor. But instead of reassured, she was now sincerely, deeply concerned.

Because he had certainly lied to her about the extent of the gulf between them, before taking their personal business to a dangerous world.

* *

The King Arthur had set off from Endeavour barely an hour ago, soaring through the Teros system and heading deeper into wild territory after leaving her at the periphery, and already Kharth wanted to murder Ensign Beckett. ‘These maps are four years old,’ she pointed out, gesturing to the holodisplay in the command module where she stood with him and Airex. ‘And the last Starfleet visitors weren’t terribly interested in locating the black market.’

‘I didn’t say I got this lead from the Starfleet reports.’ Nathaniel Beckett wore a grin that was not apologetic enough for her tastes, and he tapped the display again. ‘I reached out to the Daystrom Institute again, and a few of my research contacts, and they say that Nevantar is the person we want to talk to on Teros IV.’

Airex folded his arms across his chest. ‘Who are your contacts?’

‘Brevis and Andlar from the Cultural Exchange Initiative.’

‘Huh. Alright.’ Airex nodded. ‘We’ll follow Beckett’s lead.’

Kharth’s nostrils flared as they discussed the mission in a shorthand she did not speak. ‘We have better leads to follow than someone T’Sann might have reached out to. I know people down there who can give us more up-to-date information on the Romulan Rebirth movement.’

‘Then speak with them, too, Lieutenant,’ said Airex simply. ‘This is a reconnaissance mission. We can go together while Beckett and Drake talk to this Nevantar.’

‘It’ll be best,’ she said tautly, ‘for me to do that alone. These people have no reason to cooperate with Starfleet. Starfleet left them.’

‘We shouldn’t split up.’

‘You three shouldn’t split up if you leave the runabout. I’ll be fine.’ She waved a hand dismissively at the map. ‘See if there’s anyone else on the edge of civilisation the Daystrom Institute suggests you speak to,’ she said as she turned away, and she left for the cockpit before they could reply.

Drake sat at the King Arthur’s controls, lounging with what she thought was misleading indifference. She shut the door behind her, and at that, he said, ‘Pretty typical they want to send a pair of blue shirts on this.’

‘Commander Airex thinks he can scientifically deduce how we’re going to raid the location a group of xenophobic terrorists are holding a Federation citizen,’ she grumbled, sliding into the co-pilot’s chair. ‘How’s it looking?’

‘We are being scanned to hell,’ said Drake, ‘but nobody’s stopped us. They can all see the mothership hanging back, after all. You reckon that’ll be enough to keep us safe?’

She shrugged. ‘Nobody will want to pick a fight with Starfleet, especially not a Starfleet warship. Not even the RRM. But it’s better to come with an open hand and imply a threat.’

‘Sure.’ He glanced at her. ‘Plus, this way you have half a chance of convincing people here that you’re like them?’

‘I am like them.’ Her lips thinned as she watched the small, pale dot that was Teros IV grow larger through the canopy. There was no point in hiding this, not if she intended to use her history to get the job done. ‘I was evacuated to here. Four years on this dustbowl.’

Drake’s eyebrows raised. ‘You didn’t go straight from Romulan territory to one of those comfy Federation settlements for important people?’

‘No.’ She sighed, and checked the sensors to make sure the local ships – all of them run-down independent freighters of some sort – were continuing to give them a wide berth. ‘No, I’m someone Starfleet dumped here and then forgot about.’

‘Huh. I figured you were just angry at everything because your homeworld went boom. Which, don’t get me wrong: fair take. Why the hell did you join, then?’

Kharth looked at him, gaze level. ‘You know the answer to that, Connor. For the waifs and the strays, Starfleet is better than the alternative. And it can be something like a home.’

‘Maybe,’ he grunted, turning back to focus on flying. ‘Let me guess: you never made all the right friends at the Academy, either, because you were too busy catching up after skipping advanced calc in high school, or whatever.’

She watched him for a moment more. Any other time, she might have felt sorry for him; a refugee survivor of the Romulan supernova received more sympathy and support at Starfleet Academy than she expected a transient teenager escapee of the slum streets of New Sydney would. But not only had Drake been in a rotten mood for weeks, now, she was wound too tight for compassion. She looked back at the sensors. ‘I did fine. I got the training. I have a job. You should have learnt better.’

His back straightened. ‘I studied hard -’

‘I don’t mean studied, Connor. I mean you should have learnt that Starfleet gives polite smiles and expects you to do it their way. Which you did a bit, right? You came aboard all jokes and grins, masking like I bet you have since the Academy. As if not talking or dressing or behaving like the core worlders didn’t matter because you were such good, non-threatening company. Or, sometimes, you could fake it.’ She clicked her tongue and shook her head, feeling the comforting surge from pushing someone else’s buttons so she didn’t have to look at her own. ‘Then even Rourke gave you hell in a way he didn’t give privileged princess Thawn, after she made it clear she didn’t owe you basic decency.’

Drake cast her an acidic look. ‘Fine. Yeah, whatever, I should have known better. Starfleet’s the same as anywhere else, they just pretend better, and it beats basically any other job.’

At last, guilt slid in, and she gave him an apologetic smile. ‘Don’t beat yourself up, Connor. I had the luxury of a perspective you don’t have.’ He raised an eyebrow, and she sighed. ‘There was no way I could even pretend like I belonged. You always had a fighting chance.’

‘Right.’ Drake shrugged and reached for his flight controls. ‘Screw trying. Starfleet can handle me or they can’t; I’m done jumping through the invisible hoops. I’ll do my job and follow regs and I don’t mind being a nobody pilot forever. I was always gonna be a nobody something.’ His eyes flickered across the controls. ‘Coming up on the fourth planet. Time to ask for landing permission.’

Kharth did the talking; while she expected Teros IV’s traffic control, operating out of the old prefab facilities Starfleet had erected a decade and a half ago, to still have operating universal translators, it could put the staff at ease to hear a Romulan voice and speaker from their runabout. They were still received with prickly apprehension, as she’d expected. It was unlikely Teros IV would turn them away, anxious as they would be to neither antagonise Starfleet nor provoke more interest from them. So she was unsurprised when they received a landing vector to set down a short distance outside Sanctuary District Alpha, instead of the landing pads more centrally located, once upon a time built to deliver essential humanitarian supplies. Those had been made for Starfleet ships, and now Starfleet were unwelcome.

Had made themselves unwelcome.

The atmosphere of Teros IV was thick and sickly, but Drake handled it like it was nothing, a little turbulence irrelevant to a pilot of his calibre. Then they were down and through, under the piercing bright sun and the pale, anaemically-blue sky, and below hung the dust and disorder of the sandy surface of Teros IV.

There was a reason this was among the worlds the Romulan Star Empire had been prepared to sacrifice as a strategic buffer after their war with Earth. Little grew. Little flourished. Little mattered.

She hadn’t realised her throat was tight until she felt Drake nudge her with his elbow. ‘You alright?’ He hadn’t looked up from his controls, focused on their descent, but despite her clawing at his weak spots, he’d sensed her apprehension and reached out. This wasn’t, she suspected, the altruism of the truly righteous Starfleet officer, setting aside all personal issues to support a comrade-in-arms. Rather, outcasts and others and dregs had to stick together.

‘No way,’ she admitted with a sigh. ‘The sooner we’re done here, the better. But you bet I’ll fake it until then.’

Beckett hopped down the last rung of the ladder out of the King Arthur’s hatch onto the dusty dirt of the surface of Teros IV and immediately slid on his sunglasses. ‘Damn, I hate uniforms.’

Airex was already out, tall and severe and standing out like a blue thumb with the teal shoulders of his jacket. ‘We’re not hiding who we are. It’d be a waste of time anyway; we’re not Romulans.’

‘Yeah, but we could invite being lynched slightly less,’ pointed out Drake, huffing as he landed. ‘Hot place.’

Beckett glanced at him. ‘That your professional assessment, sir?’

He smirked. ‘There are reasons I like space.’

‘Don’t worry, Lieutenant,’ said Airex. ‘You can stay here. Ensign Beckett and I will go see this trader he’s rustled up.’

Beckett pursed his lips, wondering how to object. They had set down at the periphery of the district as instructed. To the north lay nothing but dusty scrub land, a sea of brown and dirt stretching and shimmering until unwelcoming mountains stabbed for that sickly light sky. The south, on the other hand, was a tumbled pile of ageing prefabricated shelters, ad-hoc structures that had far outlived their lifespan and been forced to persist or been replaced by people who had little to use in repairs, maintenance, or expansion. Shelters had been shoved together, transformed into Frankenstein’s monsters where three decrepit buildings made one halfway-functional contraption. New structures were made out of scrap, tumbled up against standing walls or hollowed out from the hulls of abandoned, grounded ships and shuttles. They were too far away to make out much of the populace, but already Beckett could see distant shadows among the winding streets, locals stopping in their day to peer with suspicion and curiosity at the sleek, bright, clean runabout that had just landed.

‘We want people to be cooperative,’ Beckett said carefully, ‘not feel like we’re coming down to dictate -’

He was saved by Kharth’s arrival, the security chief swinging out of the runabout to land among them. She was not in uniform. ‘He’s right,’ she said. ‘People here have no reason to help Starfleet. More reason to hate you.’

Airex’s gaze was cold and level. ‘Us. Lieutenant.’

‘You want to stand on ceremony, Commander, or you want us to find T’Sann? It’s been a while, but I stand a way better chance finding someone who knows something from my old neighbourhood if I’m Saeihr, who grew up here and has come back. Not Lieutenant Kharth in a bright gold unifom.’ She looked over at them all, and adjusted her jacket. ‘Still, no point you three trying too hard. You’re not Romulans.’

‘If you think you’re going alone -’

‘Then that’s the best way for me to do my job. Sir.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ll have my combadge on me, I can call for backup if I run into trouble.’

‘Assuming you get a chance, assuming we’re anywhere close,’ Airex chided.

‘And if these people see a Starfleet uniform they’re more likely to clam up.’

Beckett slid to the edge of the confrontation. He didn’t want to get involved, but he knew when to exploit a weakness. ‘If you want to remain on standby, Commander, Drake and I can go check out this Nevantar fella.’

Airex’s gaze remained locked on Kharth for a long moment. His nostrils thinned, then he glanced at Beckett, and nodded. ‘Fine. Be careful.’

‘I was gonna dance backwards down the street singing the Federation anthem, but -’ Seeing the look on Airex’s face, Beckett shut up mid-joke. ‘We’ll go. Right, Lieutenant?’

‘I don’t know.’ Drake’s arms were folded across his chest. ‘Do we want to sit around and have a domestic about it some more?’

If Airex had looked tense with Beckett and angry with Kharth, the gaze he turned on Drake was of ice-cold fury. ‘Go.’

They did.

‘Bugger me, pal, d’you want to get us killed?’ Beckett asked once they were a safe distance away, trooping towards District Alpha. ‘Playing with an open warp core there.’

‘They won’t do anything,’ Drake grumbled, putting on his own sunglasses. ‘Screw around and dance and snarl at each other. Standing on eggshells just makes them think they can get away with it.’

‘Okay, I’ll let you do that, oh senior staff member.’

‘Like that counts for shit,’ Drake scoffed. ‘You’ve got special dispensation for being the new guy and Airex’s pet.’

‘His pet? Like hell.’

‘Why d’you think you’re here?’

Beckett squinted. ‘My sparkling personality?’ He shrugged. ‘Alright, so I’ve never met this Nevantar, I just know a guy who knows him. He doesn’t know we’re coming. He probably doesn’t love Starfleet. So we’re going to have to be the relaxed chat kind of officers.’

‘Don’t you worry about me. Cool as a cucumber here.’

They were at the outskirts of District Alpha by now, moving from bright sunshine to the shadow of ramshackle passageways. Official street planning of the initial sanctuary’s construction had been abandoned by now, though Beckett had seen maps. Sticking to more open spaces would be essential; a narrow alleyway could easily turn into a dead end.

Dark-eyed and hollow-cheeked Romulans stared at them openly as they approached. Beckett tried to measure his responses; polite expressions and nods, acknowledgement of the locals and how odd the presence of Starfleet was without directly engaging, or challenging, or ignoring. He knew he was no expert on true desperation, but the taste in the air was more like exhaustion; sweat flavoured by long years of hardship these people had grown to live with

But live they did. Clothes were worn and patchwork, damp laundry hanging from lines to dry even in shadowed passageways in need of repair. Romulans came and went about their business, or sat on doorways by the street to do their housework, watch children play, talk with neighbours. Beckett knew they’d have been given an industrial replicator that by now would need material and repairs, but with so few natural resources on Teros, all the Romulans would manage would be an ad hoc labour force to keep their community surviving, not thriving.

‘How could Starfleet dump these people here for fifteen years?’ he muttered to Drake.

The pilot shrugged. ‘Starfleet likes to look good until that costs them too much.’

It was not the sort of cynicism Beckett expected from a Starfleet lieutenant, but Drake’s promise to stay cool seemed sincere and binding. As they ducked under a laundry line, Drake stopped to check a loose knot at the end, and smiled his acknowledgements to the Romulan man at the nearby doorway, whose nod of thanks looked honest but confused.

Beckett found the knowledge he’d grown up wanting for nothing a choking awkward knot in his throat, making him over-think his every response, but Drake had none of that. Somehow, even walking among the crowd in a Starfleet uniform, he could meet gazes, give casual greetings, and respond to the locals like it wasn’t a big deal.

‘Do you know where we’re looking?’ Drake asked at last, as they reached the periphery of a crowd in what looked like it passed for a town square. A hulking prefab on the far side boasted a battered sign of ‘Relief Centre’ in peeling paint, likely the home of the precious industrial replicator. What had once been a food distribution centre nearby looked like it had been converted to more of a bar. Its sign was more makeshift, more recent, and Beckett’s spine tensed as he read.

Romulans Only. And, above it, the insignia he’d seen in records of the Romulan Rebirth movement.

‘I… know it’s near here,’ Beckett admitted, and went to reach for his PADD. ‘All I got is that he’s based out of an old prefab in proximity to the relief centre. This place makes a great hole for storage and clandestine meetings nobody will think to pay attention to.’ His lips thinned as he scanned the square. ‘But that contact was here, uh, two years ago, so I don’t know -’

‘Hey, bud.’ Drake had turned to a nearby Romulan woman, who’d made the critical error of hesitating as she gawped at the Starfleet arrivals. ‘We’re looking for Nevantar; help us out?’

He was stared at for a moment, before the woman gestured to a far corner of the square. ‘Down there. Third left.’

‘Thanks.’ Drake pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them to her. He shrugged at her nonplussed gaze. ‘Trade them, hand them in at the relief centre for material, keep them for fun, I don’t know.’

Beckett followed him as they headed as directed. Their presence had sent a palpable ripple through the crowd. He expected any danger to them was minimal; nobody wanted to pick a fight with Starfleet unless they had to, but they were a disruptive presence, a hammer to whatever delicate status quo existed on Teros.

And still he glanced over his shoulder at the relief centre as they entered the tight passageway they’d been sent to. ‘Endeavour could spend a day here and set this place up with a month’s worth of supplies.’

‘Sure,’ said Drake. ‘Pitch that to the skipper and someone will say, but what if it makes them a target for thieves like these people aren’t being screwed over every day anyway. Endeavour could, instead, relocate a thousand of the inhabitants to a world the Federation actually gives a damn about and change their entire lives.’ He glanced back at the younger officer. ‘We won’t.’

Beckett swallowed the guilt that came of certainty, and fell silent. This was a distraction they couldn’t afford, and he felt guilty for thinking that, too.

He was right to sense a ripple of their presence, as tension and words carried news of their arrival. They took the third left passageway, and turned a corner to find a door to an old prefab shelter, and a scrawny Romulan waiting for them. He had less of the desperation of the locals they’d seen so far; better fed, better clothed, and he seemed cautious rather than uncertain.

Beckett raised his eyebrows. ‘Mister Nevantar?’

The perturbed look gave his answer, and Nevantar sighed noisily. ‘Really hoped you wouldn’t be here for me. You’re rubbish for business, Starfleet.’

‘Doesn’t have to be.’ Beckett lifted his hands placatingly. ‘First, we just want to talk. Anything more, and there might be deals in it for you.’

Drake looked at him. ‘Deals?’

‘I don’t talk with Starfleet. Turns into confiscations, even if you’ve got no jurisdiction here,’ said Nevantar.

‘Our mission’s got nothing to do with acquisitions, but the Daystrom Institute might be interested, and they won’t take something for nothing.’ Beckett glanced back up, and watched Nevantar’s expression shift to curiosity. ‘I know Vici Andlar. Said you were the man on Teros to talk to. Can we chat?’

‘Andlar.’ Nevantar’s cautious eyes swept across them both. ‘Alright.’

Nevantar had taken over an old prefab from the district’s construction and outfitted it with more modern equipment. Beckett noted the security system on the door and windows, the personal replicator to keep him in decent and reliable food, the look of a solid indoors compartment to keep a power supply isolated and secure.

‘I don’t store anything here,’ Nevantar warned as he led them into the confined living space and office. ‘That’d be stupid, so don’t even try.’

‘I know you’re more of an intermediary,’ Beckett said as he looked about. Even for a Romulan, the climate on Teros was uncomfortable. Another sign this wasn’t a local’s house was the refreshing sensation of a functioning cooling system. ‘Not the warehouse man. But we’re looking for a person, not trade.’

Nevantar moved to a water flask on a desk and had a gulp. He made no gesture to offer them anything. ‘You’re looking for T’Sann, then? Rebirth movement picked him up.’

‘That’s right,’ said Drake. ‘Did they bring him here, or was he picked up here?’ At Nevantar’s beady expression, he shrugged. ‘Look, we can do this with stick or carrot. Stick means we stick around and everyone worries how much you’ve told us, or how much extra goodies you’re packing in this shelter…’

Nevantar rolled his eyes. ‘No need for that. Yes, they picked up T’Sann here.’

‘He had a team,’ Beckett pushed. ‘Other researchers.’

‘I don’t know about them. And I know what you’re going to ask.’ Another swig of water. ‘No, T’Sann didn’t come to me.’

‘The Rebirth got to him first?’

‘No, he was here a day or two.’ Nevantar looked between them, then his eyes settled on Beckett. ‘You said there might be trade options.’

Drake straightened. ‘Hey, come on -’

‘This,’ started Beckett, pulling out his PADD, ‘is a list of items the Daystrom Institute believes are in circulation in this sector that their archaeological and anthropological departments, in cooperation with the sciences division of the Romulan Republic, might be interested in acquiring.’ He offered the PADD. ‘There’s a lot you could shift. Or put them in touch with the right people. Or… all sorts.’

Nevantar snatched it up, reading quickly, before he huffed. ‘I thought T’Sann would be here for this. I made sure he knew where to find me. He never came.’ He hesitated, tapping the PADD. ‘Instead, he went to Korskiv, who runs what passes for maintenance out of the main landing facilities. She’s also the biggest salvage and junk trader in five light-years.’

Beckett made a face. ‘Salvage?’

‘Big business around here,’ Drake chipped in. ‘Two hundred years of ships or probes or platforms which got lost in the Neutral Zone. All sorts of goodies aboard. And, you know. Regular junk.’

‘Korskiv knows she can sell to me if she gets something old and weird. She hasn’t come to me. I don’t know what T’Sann wanted. But he spoke to her, maybe he picked something up, maybe he didn’t, and then the Rebirth got him.’

Beckett pursed his lips. ‘What’re the Rebirth here like?’

‘Like?’ Nevantar shrugged. ‘Really, they’re the same old thugs who ran this place as long as I’ve been coming here, which is a while. Just now they wear armbands and pretend to be patriots so they can feel big. They’re nasty types, but they care more about what keeps them the biggest dogs on the planet, not ideology.’

‘Any chance they’d pick up T’Sann as a non-Romulan looking to buy or collect Romulan artifacts, or things they might consider Romulan property?’ asked Drake.

‘Maybe. We steer clear of each other. Wouldn’t surprise me if they said they picked him up out of indignation for his predations on Romulan culture, and so on, but really want a hostage buy-out from the Federation. You should consider that. It’ll be nothing.’

‘Moment they abduct a Federation citizen on the basis of a politically ideological platform, that gets a bit close to terrorism,’ said Beckett with a wince. ‘Which is above my grade.’

‘And mine,’ grumbled Drake. ‘So we’ll talk to Korskiv, thanks.’

He turned to go, but Beckett dragged his feet, casting one last look at Nevantar. ‘I bet it takes a lot to run this op here, safe and comfy. I got a starship’s science department resources behind me, if you’ve got something interesting for trade -’

‘Beckett.’ Drake was at the door, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Airex will throw the kind of tantrum you won’t be able to ignore if you screw around with this while we’ve got a lead. Leave shopping for after.’

‘Just – hang on.’ Beckett moved to Nevantar, reaching for the PADD he’d given, and tapped some quick instructions in. ‘I care about the science, the research, the history. I leave theft and black markets and all that for the security department to worry about; this sector is a hot-bed of lost culture, and I know you’ve got to make a living so I’m not going to lecture you on how Romulan culture should be treated. But here’s how you can get in touch with me. You want to shift stuff, get paid, and put things in the hands of someone other than private collectors? I won’t ask questions.’

Nevantar glanced at the PADD, then drew it back. ‘I know how to reach you.’

Drake sighed with dissatisfaction at the heat as they emerged in the shadowed, hot, close quarters of the street outside Nevantar’s prefab. ‘Airex would flay you for that.’

Beckett shrugged. ‘Is he gonna know?’

‘Aw, hell,’ said Drake. ‘That sounds like more trouble in a report than I can be bothered making.’

She was a Starfleet officer, a veteran of campaigns against professional pirates and renegade Klingons, but to walk these streets was to be a scrawny fifteen year-old again.

The scent scraped the years away first. That tang of heat and sweat in the nostrils, the smell of the low-quality fabric cleaner clinging to laundry hanging from lines above, of the worn metal and peeling paint of the prefab structures. Then the sounds; the hubbub of life, the voices all speaking her mother tongue like she’d not heard for years, the children running and chattering, the thudding of never-ending maintenance work on these structures that should have been left to die a long time ago. In the heat they were all a heady cocktail stripping away everything she’d learnt since she’d left and everything she’d become.

And still Lieutenant Kharth knew she was not home, because the people of Teros knew she was not one of them any more. Even out of uniform she was in clothes not strewn with patchwork repairs, in boots with soles attached; even out of uniform she was too well-fed and too bright-eyed to be of Teros.

The streets had changed a little. Some routes she’d once known were now gone; others, wider, as metal prefabs were dismantled and reassembled, dragged and destroyed. There had been little effort to build neighbourhoods according to any principle; while refugee ships had often brought survivors from a shared region of Romulus, there was little reason a few hundred civilians from the same city or district should know each other, should share lifestyles or social standing. Instead they had been thrown in together, communities born of necessity springing up across these ad hoc neighbourhoods of Sanctuary District A.

At the outskirts of one of these was the rugged prefab structure she’d once called home. Kharth stayed at a distance, not knowing why; she didn’t recognise the family whose children played outside, the mother keeping a weather eye on them as she fixed the seal on the south window. It had been small for just two people, once, but now she could see four of them, still likely lucky to get their own home.

Kharth watched the scene a moment, dragging her eyes over rusted metal and well-trodden dirt and the wind-chime her father had once set above the door. Decade-old echoes remained mercifully dimmed, and she turned away. She needed people, not places.

But there were no familiar faces at the next shelter she visited, either, and haunted, cautious eyes of locals made questions she didn’t want to ask die before she could summon the nerve to find the fate of old friends. Perhaps, she told herself as she pressed on to another old shelter whose family she’d known, whose children she’d once played with, their end had been kind. Perhaps they’d got away.

She did not believe it. And now she was being followed.

An affluent off-worlder was a target for all sorts of reasons, but she expected word of Starfleet’s presence to spread quickly, especially if the Romulan Rebirth movement anticipated a response to their crines. Kharth considered leading them down a passageway where she could double-back, pin them in, but she had not walked these streets in a decade, and the gangly youth keeping their distance looked like a local. A few sudden turns in which she was still followed transformed suspicion to certainty and, with an aggravated sigh, she decided to be firm, and doubled back. The girl’s reaction was to bolt, and Kharth assumed she wouldn’t see her again.

She did not expect to see her on the road ahead when she turned down a much quieter street three minutes later.

Her hunter was a sullen-faced Romulan youth who looked in her late teens, though it was possible malnutrition had stunted her growth. Long hair was pulled back severely, showing sunken cheeks and angry dark eyes, and even as Kharth checked corners and shadows for allies ready to mug her, the girl spoke, brimming with resentment. ‘You said you’d be back.’

Kharth’s jaw dropped. ‘Caleste?’

In years gone by, there’d been bright child who’d laughed and run and let no shadows of this world touch her, who’d wanted to tag along with the older kids and cried when she couldn’t quite keep up, whose parents had needed help watching out for her. Now she was taller and colder and more worn, and the shine had gone as Teros kept spinning.

Caleste straightened, hands curling into fists. ‘So it is you. You said you’d be back.’

There had been a tearful farewell with pledges made, and even at the time Kharth had been unsure if she’d meant it. All she could reply now was, ‘Is your mother still around?’ A sullen shake of the head answered, and Kharth sighed. ‘She sent me word about my father. After that, there was – there wasn’t much to come back for.’

It was a vicious thing to admit, but Caleste’s wary gaze didn’t shift. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘That’s what I figured. So why’re you here now, Starfleet?’

‘I need to know about what’s going on in the District. Caleste, look – if you come back to my shuttle, we can talk, I can get you a good meal and some fresh clothes and – and anything you need.’ Kharth tried to not sound pleading. A bout at the replicator would not bring back ten years, especially when she wasn’t sure she regretted staying away. She didn’t know what she’d have done here anyway.

Caleste dragged a foot back and forth through shadow-stained dust. ‘What’s your mission? Obviously not to get us to somewhere better.’

‘I’m looking for someone. The Romulan Rebirth movement – Vortiss’s thugs – abducted a researcher, maybe his team.’

‘Oh. Someone important.’ The youth’s shoulders dropped. ‘Vortiss and the rest all stay out of the same old control tower for business, but they hang out at the refectory. You’re not going to hurt them, are you?’

Kharth’s throat tightened at the apprehension. ‘Caleste, you don’t need people like -’

‘People who make deals to get us what we need? I don’t like Vortiss, but if you do him favours, he does you favours,’ Caleste hissed. ‘Beats standing up to him. That doesn’t get you anything but dead.’

‘I don’t need lecturing on that.’

Caleste looked away. ‘If your dad had just done what he was asked, he’d be fine.’

Certainty and the ground shifted under her. ‘Trenik was indebted to Vortiss because he’d borrowed from him to make the communication that got me off-world, got me to Starfleet,’ said Kharth in a low voice, like speaking firmly would make the things she thought were true more solid. ‘And then he couldn’t pay Vortiss back.’

A hunted look sunk into Caleste’s gaze, and her dismissive shrug spoke more of wanting to escape the topic. ‘Yeah – Vortiss wanted something from him, and Trenik didn’t give it. Not money or stuff, nobody has stuff to repay Vortiss.’

‘What did Vortiss  want from my father?’

Another shrug. ‘I don’t know. Vortiss brought someone to see him. The conversation didn’t go well. It was a long time ago, Saeihr, I don’t remember. I was, what, ten?’

‘Who did Vortiss bring -’

‘I don’t remember.’

The thudding in Kharth’s veins did not completely divert her from her purpose, and her shoulders tensed. ‘You didn’t follow me here just to yell at me. Is this a favour for Vortiss? Scoping me out?’

Caleste took a dragging step back. ‘I wasn’t sure if it was you.’

‘But he’d love to know that I’m here, and that Starfleet’s come to retrieve Doctor T’Sann.’ Kharth forced tension out with her slow exhale. ‘You can tell him the truth. And that if he lets T’Sann and his team go, we’ll leave. We’re not here to start trouble.’

She wasn’t sure if Caleste looked disappointed by the promise Starfleet would not upend the status quo. ‘Of course you want to leave as soon as possible.’

How could I come back and save even one of you? Kharth wanted to yell. Instead, she swallowed, and said, ‘So long as we’re here, you can come by the shuttle and get whatever you need.’

‘I gave up waiting for things from you,’ said Caleste, turning away, and Kharth’s heart pinched as the girl slunk for the shadows. Only when she was a distance away did she stop, looking back with a gaze that hovered between resentment and guilt, and called back, ‘We buried Trenik in the graveyard by the old maintenance platforms. There’s a marker. Should still be there.’

Then they were gone – both the girl who’d hung onto her every word, and the sullen youth who’d seen too many promises broken.

Kharth spent another thirty minutes pretending she still had intelligence gathering to do. Then she went to the graveyard.

The sun was bright when she got there, to the sprawling, dusty scrubland once left clear for visiting ships to land for maintenance. But long past were the days when Teros had resources to spare for visitors. Instead stretched the mismatched mounds of dirt, cairns of stone, and rough markers for the dead, more numerous over the decade since she had left. And still there would be more, the lost of whom not enough was left to bury, or nobody cared enough to grant that final dignity.

She did not have to go far to find what she sought. Past the line of the oldest cairns, the final resting places of those who had suffered from the first, who had perished quickly without Starfleet’s support. Instead she walked to the second wave of the lost, those who had fallen as Teros scratched and clawed to discover what it would be on its own, and shed those too burdensome to carry with them.

Then it was there, a modest cairn, with a scratched strip of sheet metal embedded in the dirt beside it with a thick grounding spike. Ereem would have hammered that in, she suspected; that worn old labourer whose arms like tree-trunks had not weakened yet with age, who had sat on the porch with her father and shared his dwindling supply of Triepel leaves for chewing as they swapped anecdotes and tales. The dockyard worker and the kindly academic, two men who couldn’t have been more different, who’d lived and worked in the same district their whole lives and never crossed paths before the end of all things.

She wondered what had happened to him; if he’d stayed on Teros, if he’d escaped, if he’d perished. She could picture him now, likely the man who’d gathered the rocks and built the cairn, likely the man who’d carried her father’s remains out here. A figure of few words, who doubted his own value beyond his strength, and would have been quick to take on the physical burdens of this task as others saw to the smaller touches, the emotional stakes, the grief and the loss.

A lighter touch had seen to the makeshift plaque, after all. Ereem would not have taken such care to round the edges of the metal, and the marks that passed for penmanship when scratching into steel were still too delicate, precise.  Perhaps that had been Nalaka, the shop owner who’d always credited homely little touches for her past successes and acted as if those would make a refugee camp a less desperate place, or Abeel, the meek student who’d still thought her father’s past scholarship meant something on a distant rock like this.

But all that faded as she knelt beside the plaque and ran her fingers over the delicate scratching of the name Trenik tr’Kharth.

The sun was fat and low when she knew anything else. She should have been more alert out here, exposed as she was, an obvious interloper. But she did not hear the crunch of approaching footsteps over the whistling of evening wind across the scrub lands, over the thudding of blood and memories in her ears.

‘Saeihr?’

That voice was a memory, too, or so she thought as she snapped to her feet, because when she turned she saw Davir and not the parasite that wore his face. But the years rushed in with the sight of tumbled Sanctuary District A behind him, and she was neither the teenaged refugee who’d clawed out a life here, nor the callow young woman who’d loved a kind, intelligent man so close and yet so far from all she’d known and valued.

‘Commander.’ But her throat scraped and the deflection of familiarity was clumsy. ‘Do we have a situation?’

His gait was lighter as he padded over. ‘I was going to ask you that. You’ve been gone a while, and I spotted you out here on sensors.’ Airex’s eyes slid past her to the cairn. ‘You should have said.’

A swallow did not banish the lump in her chest. ‘I didn’t need you questioning my professionalism further.’

He drew level with her, somehow smaller in the early evening glow, the dimming light fading his uniform and dulling his edges. ‘It’s your first time back in eleven years. Of course it’s hard. I know what losing him did to you.’

The news had almost broken her. Twenty years of age, a lean and hungry cadet brought low by grief, and turning walls to protect herself into foundations to rest upon. Dav had been the first, through kindness and patience, through gentle curiosity and wry, unassuming humour, to creak through the cracks. Perhaps the only.

‘I didn’t know if I’d come here,’ she admitted before she could remind herself who he was. ‘But I ran into someone I knew. We might have a line of contact with the Rebirth, we’ll see if that pays off, but she also said…’ Kharth hesitated, and he made the slightest shift closer to her. Here and now, on this dusty land where past and present blurred, she couldn’t fight old instincts to draw on his warmth. ‘I think there was more to my father’s death than I thought. I don’t think he was killed for a debt.’

‘What do you mean?’

She didn’t dare look at him. If she did, she might see the shift in his eyes; might let the present rush back in with all its changes and distance. ‘I think someone wanted something from him, and he didn’t give it, and he was killed for it. I need to do more than get T’Sann back. I need to talk to Vortiss.’

‘If you have a line of contact, that might be possible. Just…’ Dav sighed. ‘Be careful. I know you, and I know you can’t let this be, but there’s a line between putting the past to rest and tearing at stitches on old wounds.’

I know you. Because what in her had changed, after all? Of the things that really mattered? Just more scar tissue on top. He’d seen what was underneath.

The air threatened to burn her as she breathed, ‘I have to try.’ Her eyes raked over the plaque, over the sullen cairn turned the same dusty brown, part of the land itself after a decade. ‘He told me not to look back. Told me to get far away and seize every opportunity to be all I could. He wouldn’t want me here, but then… he’d hate every time I earned a black mark, every time I pushed back or stood apart…’

‘We carry the dead with us. We don’t live for them.’

‘I left everything behind. My world, my people, this place, him.’ The lump in her throat dissolved to sting her eyes and threatened to choke her words. ‘I have a choice, for once I have a choice…’

She felt him shift beside her again, and it would have been easy, so easy, to break onto him. To let the past seep in and shroud all changes, break down all walls. It would have been easy to have one treacherous moment to pretend he was the man she could let in, and not the one who’d torn away and taken pieces of her with him. Kharth got as far as turning to him, taking half a step in; got as far as seeing the shape of him, the shadow of his face, and she saw for him, too, Airex was at bay for a moment. But moments didn’t last.

With a sharp inhale, the present returned, stark and cold and clear, and Kharth turned away. ‘We should get back to the runabout. My contact knows to send word there.’

Even without looking at him, she could feel Airex reassert itself. ‘Agreed,’ he said in a crisp voice, as if nothing had happened. ‘You can brief me on the way back, Lieutenant.’

And on the walk back towards Sanctuary District A and the King Arthur, Teros did not look so much as she’d remembered it after all.

‘What are you doing?’ Commander Airex had demanded when he and a sullen Lieutenant Kharth had returned to the King Arthur to find Beckett and Drake sat on the top of the runabout.

Just to be judicious, Beckett had nudged their glass drink bottles out of sight. It was only chilled fizz, but the look on the team leader’s face did not suggest this was a man open to the concept of having fun on an away mission. They had been up there for an hour already, enjoying the view more than they’d been talking, an equilibrium established in a measured, companionable silence. Working together for the afternoon did not equate to a sudden friendship, but it was a pleasant camaraderie all the same.

Beckett was still relieved that it was Drake who answered, with studied indifference. ‘Watching the sunset. Keeping an eye out. Same thing, Commander.’

Kharth walked away from the exchange, boarding the runabout, while Airex set his hands on his hips as he craned his neck up. ‘I need you in the cockpit, Drake. I want to run some scans of the nearby area.’

He left without waiting for a response, so Drake could safely roll his eyes and finish his drink. ‘Don’t know why the Chief Science Officer can’t do that himself,’ he grumbled, getting to his feet.

‘He has to supervise you doing it,’ Beckett drawled. ‘Have fun.’

Drake took the dorsal hatch to board and, with a sigh, Beckett flopped onto his back across the hull as he was left alone. The skies of Teros were rarely clear, stratospheric clouds persistent and robbing him of a view of shining blues or blinking stars as he looked up. The golds of sunset had passed to muted bronze, the moons fractured beacons on the horizon.

It was still a new horizon. Still a new sky.

His reverie splintered some thirty minutes later when the hatch swung open again, and Beckett scrubbed his face with a lazy sigh. ‘He let you out? Or figured he could program the scans himself?’

‘Oh, you’re still up here.’

Beckett shot upright. ‘Lieutenant Kharth. Sorry. Thought you were Drake.’

He couldn’t see her expression in the dusky gloom, as Kharth hauled herself onto the dorsal hull plates of the King Arthur and lugged a bag up after her. ‘He’s still with the Commander.’ Her voice sounded cautious. ‘What were you doing?’

‘Enjoying the view. Same as you, I expect.’

Kharth settled a couple of metres away, and put the bag down. ‘No. That’s not why I’m up here.’

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to go, and a streak of pettiness stopped him from offering without being asked. Before he could decide to wrestle with that instinct, he saw the solid metal tin the size of a plant pot in her bag, and his brow furrowed. ‘Why are you here?’

Her gaze was guarded, but she put the tin on the hull and rummaged in the bag. ‘There’s a Romulan tradition. The Fae’legare. I would appreciate some privacy.’

But Beckett scooted across the hull towards her and crossed his legs, gaze intent. ‘That requires a witness to be done properly.’ His smile was a little apologetic as she straightened. ‘Hey, I’m an anthropologist, Lieutenant. And isn’t it better done with someone who doesn’t know you? I’ll read nothing of your face as you burn your secrets.’

Kharth’s eyes raked over his expression, and he dug deep to not falter as he felt needles pierce the edges of his masks. ‘What do you think the Fae’legare is?’

‘A final and personal goodbye to the lost,’ he rattled off without missing a beat. ‘You write down your secrets and you think of the departed, and one by one you choose which secret you’d share with them first if you could. When you choose a secret, you cast it into the fire to be burned. Until you’re left with one secret, the secret you would never tell them or would tell them last, and you tear that one up before it’s burned. It’s a way to resolve your relationship, to force yourself to confront the trust you had in the person, and be sure of how far it went, so you can best move on from losing them as a confidante – or realise, perhaps, you didn’t have much trust in them at all.’

‘So why do you think I need a witness?’

‘Because you have to hand every secret to me to burn, Lieutenant. I don’t read them. But it’s important the secret passes out of your hands before it’s destroyed.’

‘And why do you think it’ll be you?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m here. You won’t want to ask Drake up. I don’t think you’ll want to ask the Commander to do it for you. You don’t have to explain or justify anything more to me.’

Kharth’s eyes narrowed. ‘And why do you want to help?’

Another shrug. ‘I’ve never participated in a Romulan ritual before.’

Her gaze flickered across him. ‘If you so much as thumb a secret open or look like you’re going to ask, I’ll kick you off this runabout.’

‘That’s… well, that’s not fair, that’s assault, but I take your point, Lieutenant.’ Beckett reached for the tin, the fuel, and the lighter she’d brought up, mind racing through documents he’d merely browsed over the years. This was not his first time turning what had been a curiosity in an article read long ago into sudden and personal practice, but he had always had warmer or more welcoming participants before.

He waited until the fire was burning merrily in the tin between them. With night fallen, the stars shrouded, and the flames to take all his vision in darkness, the world narrowed to banish the flickering lights of Sanctuary District A and the blackened horizon and even the warm belly of the King Arthur beneath them. All he knew was the circle of light, and Saeihr t’Kharth before him.

Beckett swallowed as he watched her across the flames. ‘Whom do you come to remember?’ His Romulan was clunky, but serviceable. ‘To whom do you come to surrender your secrets?’

Kharth’s sharp breath was raking. ‘I come to remember my father, Trenik tr’Kharth,’ she said, and he managed to keep his expression studied. ‘I come to surrender the secrets I did not share in life.’

He glanced to the folded pieces of paper in her white-knuckled grasp. ‘What secret is surrendered first?’

That choice came quickly enough, a folded scrap of paper passed over, and he at once fed it to the flames, made sure it had caught and would burn to ash. They both watched as it faded, and then their eyes met again.

‘What secret is surrendered second?’

There were twelve in all. The first four came quickly, like she’d thought of this before. The second four were harder, but the choice felt like which she wanted to give first, rather than which she wanted to hold back. The next two were slower still, marred with clenched jaws and furrowed brows, and though Beckett could not begin to imagine what was passing through his hands to be burned, he felt these were secrets more reticently given.

Then his gaze met hers again. ‘What secret is last? What secret is lost?’

The decision came quicker than he expected, a square of paper all but shoved into his hand to be burnt. By the time he had fed it to the flames, she had already ripped the last into quarters, and he did not reach out as she let them drift into the fire to be lost forever.

Kharth did not look at him, eyes locked on the tin, and he stayed still for a long time. By his presence he was an intruder on a moment that did not need him any more, but Beckett knew that to move would be to interfere more. He remained there, motionless, until after long minutes she finally sat up. ‘Thank you.’

Beckett chewed his lip. ‘By the end, doesn’t it just become a question of what secrets you wouldn’t want to tell anyone? Rather than about the specific individual?’

She gave a gentle snort. ‘Yes. But the whole thing is for me, isn’t it? To reflect on my secrets and how I share them. Otherwise we’d have rituals and traditions to encourage us to share with the living.’

‘He died here, didn’t he.’ At her guarded look, he straightened a half-inch. ‘I’m not trying to wriggle anything out of you, Lieutenant. I’m not -’ Comprehension sparked and grew, as if secrets had been fed there as much as to the flames. ‘I’m not my father.’

Kharth’s assessing eyes again raked over him. ‘You’re not much like him.’

‘Thank you.’ The corners of Beckett’s lips curled. ‘You clearly know how he helps people, and then expects that gives him a right to make decisions for them, and those decisions are all about what’s best for him, useful for him. Why the hell would he be any different with his own son?’

‘You still joined Starfleet. Somewhere he’d always be able to reach you.’ Her low voice was determinedly neutral.

Beckett shrugged. ‘You any good at saying “no” to him?’

‘So graduating the bottom third of your class and still getting decent assignments – making yourself reliant on him to get anywhere – is, what, rebellion?’

He scowled. ‘Okay, so I didn’t exactly apply myself at the Academy, because I resented even being there. But I didn’t get a thing because of the Admiral. I got it because I’m good at what I do, and I bucked up my ideas because of other people. Not him.’

‘Like the captain?’

‘Yeah, like the captain.’ But he’d reached out only to get her jabbing back at him, and his lip curled. ‘What’d Alexander do to you, sweep you up as an asset because he thought a Romulan officer would give him a new arrow in his quiver?’

Kharth snorted, less perturbed by his assertion than he’d expected. ‘Yes. Except first, he got me off this rock and to the Academy in the first place.’ She drummed her fingers on the edge of the metal tin, its flames dying down by now. ‘Anyone else, today I’d be telling you to make the most of having a father, but I think you’re the exception.’

Beckett sucked on his teeth at that, and turned his gaze back to the shadowy periphery beyond the King Arthur’s external lights. ‘I can’t imagine what it’d be like, living here. Losing people here. Losing your whole home.’

‘I try to not think about it,’ Kharth admitted. ‘I had a way of life – we all had a way of life – and now it’s gone. It didn’t seem real, when it was happening. It’s the sort of thing that happens in crazy stories. The literal end of the world.’ She shrugged. ‘Now I’m Starfleet.’

‘Starfleet wasn’t what I wanted or expected either, Lieutenant, but it’s a place we can make a difference -’

‘Ensign, you threw some things into the fire for me and showed you’re not a miniature version of your father. We’re not friends,’ she cut him off with a wry look. ‘You’re here right now because I don’t need to have this conversation with Airex and Drake. You’re here because you’re kind of nobody.’

Beckett arched an eyebrow. ‘Really, Lieutenant? I thought we were gonna hug it out at any moment, be best bosom-pals, maybe make little friendship bracelets. You started poking personal things first.’

Her gaze had gone distant, brow furrowing. ‘Shh.’

‘You what? I get this is a rotten world for you, and all, but maybe a shred of, if not courtesy, then -’

But Kharth had moved to take a knee, and gave him an urgent shove on the arm. Only then did he notice she’d drawn her phaser. ‘I mean, shut up, Ensign, someone’s out there.’

His phaser was not on him. From the roof of the shuttle, he was either well-sheltered against anyone close or wildly exposed at a distance, and compromised by going flat on his front, squinting into the shadows the way she’d been looking. ‘I don’t see anything.’

‘Four people out there. Talking. Can’t make out anything.’ Kharth cocked her head, voice now low and urgent. ‘One of them’s approaching.’

‘You can see -’

This time she kicked him, and he fell silent after a grumpy sound, watching the ring of light around the runabout. She shifted a heartbeat before he saw a silhouetted figure staggering out, hands on their head.

Kharth’s voice rang out across the gloom. ‘Stop where you are!’ As the figure halted, she dropped to a murmur to Beckett. ‘Other three are running off; send word to the Commander.’

But Beckett was frozen, staring with his jaw dropped at the new arrival. ‘What the hell?’

Ragged and battered, long hair a shaggy mop, beard as wild as his sunken eyes, the new arrival looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge and beaten for it. But still he looked up, dark eyes latching on the pair on the roof, and when his crisp voice reached them he sounded as sardonic as he was exhausted.

‘I appreciate Starfleet’s vigilance,’ said Doctor Karl T’Sann. ‘But I assumed you were here to rescue me, not shoot me?’

After ten minutes in a bathroom, five minutes with a medical kit, and two minutes sat in the King Arthur’s briefing room with a steaming mug of tea, Doctor Karl T’Sann looked a little more half-human. He’d tied his hair back, cleaned up, and a vicious cut over one pointed eyebrow had been sutured enough to start fading already.

‘Despite how it looks, I’m indebted to you for coming at all.’ He blew gently on the tea, before setting it down on the low table with a wince. ‘The moment the Rebirth realised Starfleet was in town and looking for me, they got cold feet over the whole affair.’

Airex folded his arms across his chest. ‘What about the rest of your team, Doctor? Are they here on Teros?’

T’Sann shook his head. ‘No. No, we were all jumped on Behram by the Rebirth there and were separated. I haven’t heard from any of them since, but then, it was only about a week later that I got here and was collared.’

‘The Rebirth tried to get you,’ Drake repeated, ‘and you still carried on trawling the old Neutral Zone?’

‘I learnt on Behram that what I needed was here.’ T’Sann raised his eyebrows at them. ‘My whole team was dedicated to this. We weren’t going to turn around and go home in the face of opposition.’

‘Opposition is a fine way to describe your people being abducted or murdered,’ said Airex wryly. ‘But we can return to Endeavour and reach out to contacts on Behram, chase up these leads. We’ll find them, Doctor.’

T’Sann winced. ‘No. No, not yet, Commander.’

Airex stared. ‘What?’

Beckett advanced on the briefing table at that, eyes bright. ‘Did you find whatever you were looking for from the salvage dealer? Is that why we can’t leave yet?’

‘You found out I went to Korskiv? I expect you talked to Nevantar. That’s good work, he’s a sneaky old sausage.’

Beckett beamed at T’Sann’s impressed voice. ‘I have contacts of my own. He wasn’t so hard.’

‘Gentlemen.’ Airex lifted a hand. ‘What is so important it’s worth delaying an already tardy rescue mission for your team?’

‘My team,’ said T’Sann bitterly, ‘will already be dead. The Rebirth said as much. That’s why they knew to find me here, grabbed me here. I did get what I wanted off Korskiv first, but while the Rebirth were kind enough to ditch me at the first sign of Starfleet trouble, they did not leave me with my things. Including the transponder.’

Beckett raised an eyebrow. ‘Transponder?’

T’Sann sipped his tea. ‘A lot of old ships and old artifacts left Romulus under inauspicious circumstances during the evacuation. Korskiv didn’t know what she had when she picked up a wreck that was actually the old wing of the Vomal, once a living museum in orbit dedicated to the technology and artifacts of the Romulan exodus. It included the transponder of the Vomal itself – the original Vomal, one of the transport ships that made the journey.’

Airex cast a frustrated look at Kharth, who stood near the door with her arms folded across her chest, expression unreadable. Without support from her, he returned his gaze to T’Sann. ‘All of this is for an artifact that’s been in Romulan hands for centuries?’

Slowly, T’Sann put his tea back down, and when he spoke his voice was low, deliberate. ‘The Romulan people have suffered untold loss after untold loss. The destruction of their homeworld, the shattering of their empire, the scattering of their people. The erosion of their politics, of their culture. Nothing which could provide insight into and security of who they are and what they stand for should be considered an acceptable loss.’ His gaze turned up to Airex, just as cold. ‘But no, Commander. I am not simply seeking to retrieve the Vomal’s transponder. I want what it will lead me to.’ At last he looked to Kharth. ‘I’m after the Koderex.’

Kharth did straighten at that, and Airex exchanged a cautious glance with Beckett, but it was Drake who cleared his throat and spoke. ‘So, for the not-a-Romulan-or-a-history-buff here, what’s that?’

Beckett spoke cautiously. ‘The Koderex was one of the other transport ships from the Romulan exodus. But it was lost en route.’

‘It was more than a transport ship,’ Kharth butted in, brow furrowing deeper. ‘It held the whole library archives for those who marched beneath the raptor’s wings. Much of it was duplicated on other ships, but untold knowledge and records of my people’s earliest years, of their reformation away from Surak’s restrictions, was lost. It’s almost mythical.’ She advanced on T’Sann, put her hands on the edge of the briefing table. ‘You can find it?’

‘Tracing the Koderex was difficult,’ T’Sann said. ‘The earliest centuries of the Romulan people were dedicated to settlement, after all, and much was lost by the time they had the resources and technology to retrace their footsteps. And space is… very big.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘Nobody had any idea where the Koderex might have been lost until the Romulans and Vulcans reestablished contact, and back-channels gave Romulan historians access to records on Vulcan outlying the original expected flight route. Romulan historians compared this to what records existed of communication during the exodus between the Koderex and other ships, and narrowed down the region it had been lost to a sector. There was just one problem.’

‘The Neutral Zone,’ breathed Beckett, transfixed.

‘Exactly.’ T’Sann snapped his fingers. ‘Then the Neutral Zone collapses over a decade ago, except everyone is a little busy. But I bought the Vomal’s transponder from Korskiv, and I think that with it, I can locate wherever the Koderex crashed or is drifting. Even the slightest remains of it…’

‘Could have vast detail of the origins of the Romulan people,’ said Kharth, voice more neutral, but her eyes equally locked on T’Sann.

‘The Romulan people, who are in desperate need of unity and cultural pride.’ T’Sann looked up at Airex. ‘That’s why, Commander, I’m not leaving without the transponder. If you want to go, then go – but I’m not coming with you.’

Airex’s lips thinned. ‘Did the Rebirth know about this?’

‘They know I’m after Romulan artifacts, because I thought I’d need to buy the transponder off the black market. They’d like to say I’m a threat to keeping Romulan history in Romulan hands, but in truth, they think I’m a threat to their cash flow.’ T’Sann shrugged. ‘I don’t think they expected a Starfleet response. From what they said, they’d hoped to ransom me to the Institute.’

Airex looked for a moment like he might press the point – then he sighed, and put his hands on his hips. ‘It’s late,’ he said at last. ‘And you’ve been through a lot, Doctor. If the Rebirth gave you back because they don’t want trouble, I dare say we have a little time – and some options. I suggest we all rest, first, and discuss our next move in the morning.’

Nods greeted what was clearly not a suggestion, and Kharth stepped forward as T’Sann stood. ‘You can have my bunkroom, Doctor. I’ll clear out.’

He gave her a tired look. ‘There are multiple beds per bunkroom on a New Atlantic-class, Lieutenant. I expect I’ll be unconscious the moment my head hits the pillow; no need to inconvenience yourself for my sense of privacy.’

T’Sann needed help back down the ladder to the lower deck, patched up but still aching from the tender mercies of the Rebirth. In the confined space of the bunkroom, he sank onto the bottom bed with a relieved sigh, and Kharth was prepared to clamber up and make her own, troubled attempt at resting, but he spoke as she had a foot on the bottom rung of the ladder.

‘Your commander doesn’t think this is important, does he?’

Kharth hesitated. In truth, she’d expected Airex to be more excited by the Koderex. But perhaps that was because Dav would have been delighted. The parasite was different. ‘Our mission was to get you back. Not you and your research.’

T’Sann put his hands behind his head and propped himself up against the bunk’s head. His lips curled. ‘That’s a very diplomatic answer, Lieutenant. He knows he can’t just abduct me off this planet, right?’

‘You’d stay here?’ She cocked her head. ‘Even though the Rebirth would probably pick you up again if we left?’

‘I know how to keep a low profile. It wouldn’t be easy. But I can’t risk the Rebirth scrapping the transponder, or selling it to who-knows-where – or, worse, realising what I want it for.’ His eyes raked over her. ‘You understand how high these stakes are.’

Her foot dropped down from the ladder. ‘You’re not half-Vulcan, are you.’

The smirk broadened. ‘I am. I’m not half-human.’ T’Sann sat up, sobering. ‘My parents were among the earliest members of Ambassador’s Spock’s reunification movement. But growing up in the Federation, it was a lot easier and safer to pretend to have a human father. That’s why I understand how high these stakes are.’

A troubled frown tugged at her brow. ‘Our people’s problems go far deeper than losing mementos or records of our history. Three splintered governments, untold numbers of scattered refugees… without infrastructure or homes, stability or safety, what good is a fifteen hundred year-old library archive?’

‘I think you know better than that, Lieutenant Kharth,’ he said softly. ‘I think you know the battle for survival is about more than individual lives or individual safety. It’s about more than the state of our governments.’

She bit her lip. ‘Maybe.’

‘The apocalypse didn’t happen when our homeworld was destroyed; we’ve given up a homeworld before. That’s just when it started. It’s still happening as our culture, our history, our way of life are all being lost, eroded, and destroyed, just a little bit, every single day.’ He drew a slow breath. ‘The apocalypse is happening to our people as we speak. We can turn the tide.’

Troubled brow still furrowed, Kharth gave an awkward nod. ‘I’ll talk to the commander in the morning.’

‘It can’t be easy for you,’ T’Sann pushed as she turned away. ‘A Romulan far from your own people all the time, or exposed to this, the most desperate reduction of our people.’

She forced a shrug. ‘I’ve lived more of my life without Romulus than with it.’

‘So you’re afraid you’ll forget. Forget what it meant to be Romulan, forget what it means to have a connection to your people.’ He swung his legs over the side of the bunk, less exhausted now, bright-eyed in his intent. ‘I’ve spent my life not knowing if I truly understood my father’s culture. If I could truly understand it.’

Her hand curled around a rung of the ladder. ‘What happened to him?’

‘He never made it off Romulus. He was a known suspected collaborator by the end, and the authorities were not…’

‘…political dissidents were bottom of the evacuation priority lists.’ Her family had been, once. Only by Admiral Beckett had she been saved, again and again. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I didn’t know him as well as I wished.’ T’Sann shrugged. ‘But we have to keep more than memories. We have to live in a way that honours and remembers those who came before. Actions, not just thoughts. He wanted to unite the Romulans with the Vulcans. But before that can happen, now… I have to try to reunite the Romulans.’ He gave a self-conscious smile. ‘I’m sorry, I’m tired and a bit light-headed and probably over-sharing. It’s been a while since I spoke to one of my people who’s on my side.’

‘I understand. Likewise.’ She swallowed. ‘The Rebirth who got you, who have the transponder – is it Vortiss’s lot?’

His eyebrows raised. ‘Vortiss was the one calling the shots. I didn’t see a lot of him – he likes to hold court in the bar in the District centre; he’s put up this obnoxious Romulans Only sign to seem like a more valid supremacist. But he’s the one in charge. You know him?’

She stared at the bulkhead for a moment. ‘I have my own business with him.’

‘Then maybe,’ said T’Sann gently, ‘we can both get what we want by sticking around.’

The cocktail in Kharth’s gut turned noxious; a blend of warmth towards someone who understood, grief at her father, fury at Airex, and guilt at herself for every one of her choices. Instead of answering, she at last swung into the top bunk, putting him out of sight. ‘We’ll work on this in the morning. Good night, Doctor.’

‘Karlan,’ he said softly as the lights died. ‘Call me Karlan.’

She hesitated in the dark, and when she spoke, dared no more than a whisper. ‘Saeihr.’

‘Saeihr,’ T’Sann repeated, just as quietly. ‘Jolan tru, Saeihr.’

She did not reply out loud this time, eyes locked on the ceiling she couldn’t see, infinite memories and possibilities spilling out before her vision in the dark. But her lips did form the words for the first time in maybe a decade, feeling clumsy and as if she’d forgotten how, only daring mouth them in silence.

Jolan tru.

When Kharth clambered up the ladder into the King Arthur’s briefing room the next morning, she found Airex and Beckett already in full swing.

‘This is an opportunity to change countless lives,’ the young ensign was insisting, hands on the display table, while Airex stood impassive, steaming mug of coffee in hand. She tried to not smirk; one thing she had noticed the Joining had not changed was that Davir preferred a morning of quiet contemplation and caffeine before anyone came at him.

‘There are always opportunities to do that, Ensign. But our mission is to rescue the doctor.’

‘And we’ve done that. Surely while we’re here -’

‘Our mission isn’t over until we’re back on Endeavour. When we know our next move, we can assess the disruption from taking further measures.’

‘The disruption?’ Beckett put his hands on his hips, chin tilting up an indignant half-inch, and for the first time she could see something of her father in him. But there was a righteousness to the imperious air that was all his own as he pressed on. ‘Surely the scope of this goes far beyond that?’

Airex’s gaze flickered from him to Kharth, who wasn’t bothering to be subtle as she got her own coffee from the replicator. ‘That’ll be all, Ensign.’

‘But, sir -’

‘That means he heard you,’ Kharth butted in at last. ‘And get out.’ Beckett’s indignant gaze turned to her, before with a rather stroppy huff he turned for the ladder to the lower decks. She barely gave him a second look as she sipped her coffee and sighed. ‘He wants to go after the transponder? He’s right.’

‘Actually, he thinks Endeavour should come to orbit and spend a week on relief work helping the Sanctuary Districts.’ Airex’s expression was studied as she turned to him, eyebrow raised. ‘Obviously that’s rather above his grade.’

‘He’s young and from Earth. I expect Teros makes him startled and guilty.’ It doesn’t make him wrong, she thought, but pushed that argument aside. It didn’t suit her needs.

‘I’ve no doubt the captain will want the first-hand accounts of everyone if the idea is put to him.’

‘He has a track record of helping in these situations. Rourke, I mean.’ She padded over to the briefing table. ‘About six years ago, the Achilles dispensed emergency supplies to an illegal Romulan refugee settlement on Trifex. Rourke was then-Captain Beckett’s XO. Scuttlebutt is Rourke went around him to get it done. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.’

Airex snorted gently. ‘Of course he did. Act first, think later?’ He waved a slightly guilty hand. ‘I’m not dismissing the captain’s decision there. Just his methods.’

Kharth opened her mouth, then decided she didn’t need to argue in defence of Matt Rourke. ‘Have you made a decision about T’Sann’s transponder?’

He glanced up at her. ‘I expect you have an opinion.’

Once, Davir wouldn’t have thought twice about going after the device. Once, he wouldn’t have sounded like asking her opinion was a tiresome formality. She reminded herself it was easier if he were compliant, and drew a deep breath. ‘I think T’Sann is right. I think we should try to acquire the transponder before we leave.’

Airex sipped his drink. ‘Do you have a suggestion as to how?’

‘I do, actually.’ It was her turn to straighten with an edge of defiance. ‘Vortiss has it. Vortiss spends time in the refectory-turned-bar that’s marked “Romulans Only.” I go in and negotiate with Vortiss for its return.’

He stared. ‘You go. Alone. Into the territory of the Romulan Rebirth movement, who have already captured a professor and probably killed his associates?’

‘Who let him go the moment Starfleet muscle showed up, because they didn’t want trouble on their door,’ she pointed out. ‘T’Sann wasn’t returned with his personal belongings; possibly they didn’t even think to toss him back with the device. Sure, if they didn’t know it’s important before, they will when I turn up and ask for it. But we can get it off them with a pay-out.’

‘There is no way we can justify giving resources to a supremacist movement like this. Either by ethics or optics.’

‘First, let’s be light on words like supremacist.’ Kharth rolled her eyes. ‘Romulans in these sectors are the lowest of the low, the dispossessed and the desperate. This isn’t citizens of a Romulan Empire demanding they retain their privilege and position against those they see as outsiders or lesser. This is people who’ve lost their homes rallying under a sense of togetherness. It’s xenophobic and exclusionary and it’s being used to keep people divided, to stop refugees from reaching out for or accepting help from anyone but these gangs. It feeds desperation with an empty sense of identity that only fuels more desperation.’ She kept her stance against him firm. ‘I hate it, and I hate signs like “Romulans Only,” but let’s not pretend it’s heroic for Federation citizens to come to this world and lecture abandoned refugees about how the problem is their xenophobia. These people are right to be angry.’

Airex chewed on words for a moment, and she met his gaze with a quiet, furious resilience. At last he said, rather neutrally, ‘This doesn’t change my point.’

Cold had settled into her gut when Rourke’s briefing told them they were coming to Teros. That ice had sunk deeper with every light-year, deeper with every step taken on Teros’s surface, deeper with the news of her father. But at his neutrality, for the first time in what felt like an eon, thoughts of Teros and her past and her people clashed like flint on steel. For the moment she tried to cover the sparks, not give them fuel, and her voice remained level as she said, ‘I’m not suggesting we give them resources. There’s something they’ll want more: for Starfleet to leave and stay gone.’

He frowned. ‘They give us the transponder, and in return we leave Teros, doing nothing for these people?’

‘You were just telling Beckett -’

‘I was making it clear to Beckett that him righteously campaigning at me doesn’t change a thing, and doesn’t make him the hero in the face of reluctant superior officers. That has nothing to do with my opinion. I’m surprised that this is yours.’

Kharth shrugged. ‘The transponder is important.’

‘More important than the people of Teros?’ Airex cocked his head. ‘This isn’t a refusal, Lieutenant. I want to know where you’re coming from with this.’

She straightened. ‘Why does that matter?’

‘Because you’re recommending we ignore an opportunity to help a refugee world where you grew up, in order to secure some artifact of Romulan society. Is T’Sann’s argument about the fate of Romulan culture that compelling to you?’

‘You know I care about the people of Teros,’ Kharth insisted. ‘You also know I don’t only care about the people of Teros.’

He hesitated, and her stomach lurched as she spotted him reading her. ‘You want to ask Vortiss about your father. That’ll be the deal, won’t it: we leave Teros, which secures his hold on the sanctuary as Starfleet ignores them, and in return he gives you the transponder and information.’

She stood her ground. ‘I was going to ask him, yes.’

Airex looked bewildered. ‘If we made the recommendation to the captain, he’d spend a week here putting up a relief station that would help the people get back on their feet, see to their worst medical needs, and take the legs of Vortiss out from under him. It wouldn’t be everything, but it would be a lot. And you want to deny them that for personal matters?’

‘Don’t be dismissive.’ Her finger came up accusingly. ‘Don’t use our history to guess my motivations and then twist it to make me look petty.’

‘I’m not,’ he insisted. ‘I’m trying to understand, and I’m not trying to make it personal. But you’re the local expert with a stake in this world, and you’re making a recommendation to me, the team leader. I’m not criticising you for your history or feelings on Teros influencing your judgement; that’s normal. But I need to know where your head is.’

She drew a slow breath. ‘It’s one thing to send the Hazard Team in against the Rebirth to rescue Doctor T’Sann. It’s another thing to send them in to take an object they stole from him – whose actual ownership is contentious at best. That leaves subterfuge or negotiation. What I’m suggesting makes things no worse than if we hadn’t come here at all.’

‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ he said carefully. ‘People know Starfleet is here. What you’d offer Vortiss would be a victory over us, the chance to demonstrate Starfleet doesn’t care and he had the power to send us packing. That empowers him.’

‘If you think Endeavour spending a week here, or even two, will fundamentally change the future of the people of Teros, you’re being wilfully ignorant,’ she countered. ‘And don’t pretend you can’t imagine how massive recovering the Koderex will be for the Romulan people.’ She jabbed a finger at the briefing table. ‘My people are scattered and splintered. They’re running to the Tal Shiar or the Navy for protection with no dignity, or they’re plucky underdogs whose dalliance with democracy is wholly dependent on Federation support, or they’ve been abandoned and left behind. The Koderex, in the right hands? That could spark a cultural renaissance for a people without a home, without unity, without pride. That could get Romulans cooperating again, remembering what we stand for -’

‘I understand,’ Airex said, voice tensing. ‘But that’s about fifty moves away. I’m surprised that you’re lapping up T’Sann’s story.’

Kharth straightened. ‘Lapping up?’

‘If T’Sann finds the Koderex… who owns her? This ancient repository of Romulan knowledge?’ He cocked his head. ‘The Daystrom Institute, a Federation institution? I have no doubt they’ll try to share – with the Romulan Republic. So all of a sudden, access to this essential Romulan artifact is dictated by a foreign government. And it’ll have to be, because the Free State and the New Empire won’t share. Copies of information alone won’t suffice; the object has value. What you’re saying is going to usher in a sudden Golden Age for a dispossessed people might instead launch a whole new set of problems.’

Her jaw tightened. ‘That’s not a reason to not go looking.’

‘It’s a reason to be careful. And what about T’Sann himself?’ Airex’s voice dropped a pitch in volume, but lost nothing in intensity as he pointed to the deck below. ‘What happened to his team? Why did he only insist they were dead when we said we had to leave to rescue them? He seems awfully happy to abandon them if it means he can keep chasing his prize. Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you?’

‘I didn’t say it wasn’t suspicious. But you’re really bothered I’m listening to him and not to you. And you’re not the only one who can read people, Commander; if you really wanted to help the people of Teros, you’d have told Beckett that. You’re only standing on the humanitarian high ground to disagree with me. Why?’

‘Because your plan is rash,’ he said flatly. ‘Your plan requires you to go alone into the den of the Rebirth, whose release of T’Sann might be the only bargain they’ll give us. What if their reaction to us not leaving, but sending a Starfleet officer back for more is to take you captive, or use you to send a message?’

‘Then call in Endeavour and send in the Hazard Team, and we’re no worse off than we were at the start. I’ll keep an open comlink to the runabout the entire time.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t think they’ll take the risk of murdering a Starfleet officer.’

‘If T’Sann is right, this movement has murdered at least three Daystrom Institute staffers. Stop acting like they’re here to talk.’ His shoulders sank despite his frustration, gaze more open than she had expected. ‘I understand and agree that we’ll need a different way to find the transponder. But the Rebirth have lost the upper hand by giving up T’Sann. Why can’t we try to win the people of Teros over with a hearts and minds campaign, and negotiate the handover of the transponder that way? Or if you really must, get your old friend to bloody well rob them.’

‘Those are all terribly long shots, especially if the Rebirth know the transponder’s important.’

‘And putting yourself in the jaws of the beast is even more dangerous if they do. But that’s not the point.’ He stepped sharply around the briefing table towards her. ‘You’re not doing it to get the transponder back. You’re doing it to talk to Vortiss about your father.’

‘What if I am? That’s my choice that I’m prepared to make, my own safety -’

‘And the safety of officers who are duty-bound to rescue you if you’re captured, duty-bound to save you if you get into trouble!’ He drew a deep, raking breath. ‘Knowing more isn’t going to bring him back.’

Her eyes flashed as they locked on him. ‘For ten years, I thought my father was murdered for a debt he owed getting me off this rock. You know this. But it turns out there might be more to his death?’

‘There must be other ways for you to find out, other people on this world to ask -’

‘Like who? Caleste didn’t know the full story. It was ten years ago; who’s going to know except for Vortiss himself?’

Airex’s jaw tightened. ‘You’d abandon Teros for this?’

She drew a tight, frustrated breath. ‘I can double-cross Vortiss if I have to, you know this. He can’t stop us from going back on our agreement and launching a relief mission once we get what we want. So the only downside is a personal risk, and that’s a risk I’m willing to take, a risk I want to take.’

‘Your safety isn’t your personal and private affair on a mission like this!’

‘I’m the only person who can do this, the only person who can go there and the only person who can negotiate for the transponder and the information. You’re being over-cautious on how likely it is Vortiss will immediately turn violent, and you know it!’

‘And I think you’re bring reckless.’

‘Vor’s sake; if you ever understood me at all, Dav, you’d know I can’t let this go.’

It had gone exactly as she’d hoped it wouldn’t. Exactly down the line of old scars and wounds, exactly as she’d expected when arguing her deepest hurt to someone who wore his face but didn’t listen like he would, didn’t answer like he would. Pain was compounded by pain, shock of the revelations from Caleste intensified by what, try as she might, she couldn’t stop from feeling like a betrayal as Davir tried to stop her.

But then he said, ‘And if you ever understood me, Cara Sai, you’d know I have to ask you to stop,’ and the sparks she’d tried to cover turned into an inferno.

For a moment, all she could do was stare at him and flatly say, ‘How dare you.’ Then the flames roared into her throat and she’d shoved him back. ‘How dare you? I told my true name to Davir Hargan, and you have made it abundantly clear that Davir Hargan is dead and that you killed him.’

He’d taken a step back, but now he rallied, standing firm. ‘You know it is more complex than that -’

‘What I know is that Airex has taken every personal thing I told Dav and used it here to demand my compliance,’ she snapped. ‘What I know is – shit, you told Rourke I was from Teros, didn’t you.’ Realisation came like a hot flash, and the clarity brought only more fury. ‘You’ve tried to have me benched and sidelined throughout this mission. You insist that we’re nothing but colleagues, that the past is dead, and then you use our personal history to get under my skin and force me to see things your way. It’s not enough for you to just give orders, is it?’

‘I’m not going to apologise for having the memories and life of a man who cared deeply about you, even if I’m not Davir Hargan any more,’ Airex said firmly. ‘I know I’m the only one on Endeavour who has any understanding of what you’ve been through, and I know you won’t tell anyone. So, yes, I tried to look out for you. I told Rourke because I knew you wouldn’t talk to me, and I came looking for you last night because I know that losing your father destroyed you. I know you’re blinded by that pain so yes, I’ve tried to show you that you’re wrong rather than just brute force this!’ He visibly forced himself to calm down, chest heaving. ‘But if that’s how you see it, then fine: I order you to remain aboard the King Arthur. We’ll take Doctor T’Sann back to the ship and see what Captain Rourke has to say.’

Finally, something approaching triumph surged in her. ‘That’s a shame. Doctor T’Sann left with Drake thirty minutes ago. I asked them to scout out if Vortiss is in the refectory, which he is, and notify me if he left. You can call Drake back, but you’re going to have a hell of a time convincing T’Sann to leave.’ A vicious smile tugged at her lips. ‘He’s the mission, after all. We should get down there.’

Airex sputtered. ‘You -’

‘This conversation’s made it clear I owe you nothing, Commander. So let me make a few more things crystal: I don’t want you to so much as pretend you have a personal stake in my wellbeing any more. I don’t want to hear you blurring the lines between us to get your own way. And if you ever call me anything but “Lieutenant” again, I am going to get myself into Starfleet’s biggest court martial.’

‘Oh, there’ll be conversations with the captain before this is over, Lieutenant.’ He tapped his combadge. ‘Airex to Beckett. Get armed and equipped, we’re heading into the sanctuary district.’

She’d turned away as he started making ready, headed for the hatchway leading to the surface, and even though he called after her, she did not wait. If he wanted to get Beckett and get armed, he’d be too many steps behind her to stop her, and she had no intention of being delayed any further. There would be consequences. She’d not just defied the away team’s leader; not just had a blazing personal row with him, but transparently manipulated circumstances so he couldn’t stop her getting her own way.

But first, there would be a reckoning.

Kharth had a head start on Airex, and a Romulan in plain clothes could move through the crowds of Sanctuary District Alpha with far more freedom than a pair of armed Starfleet officers. So she got to the square first and spotted Drake, his red shoulders making him stand out like a sore thumb, the figure of T’Sann beside him much subtler.

She didn’t want a delay, but he made a bee-line for her, scowling. ‘The commander says I should stop you. I have no idea what’s going on.’

Kharth pointed at the refectory, with its Romulans Only signpost. ‘I’m going in there. Try to stop me and I’ll make this a public shoving match between a Romulan and a Starfleet officer. How do you think that’ll go?’

T’Sann looked between them, brighter-eyed now he was getting what he wanted. ‘I’ll help,’ he told Drake cheerfully.

Drake looked between them, even more sour-faced. ‘You better damn well tell Airex you slipped past me, and you better not get me or anyone shot over whatever this is.’

She might have thanked him, but he looked too angry. She had, after all, strong-armed him into an impossible position, and Connor Drake was not a man to let her pretend otherwise. Instead she just nodded to T’Sann. ‘I’ll come back with the device.’

‘Thank you,’ he said earnestly. ‘If this gets you in trouble, I’m not without influence. I’ll do what I can.’ He pointed to the refectory. ‘Vortiss is inside.’

Her confrontation with Airex had wilted the fig leaf that she was doing this for T’Sann. But if she’d started using him, now was not the time to stop, and she gave him a firm nod as she shouldered past them into the crowd.

As before, everyone knew she wasn’t a local. Not any more. She was too well-dressed, too well-fed, and this time she had not shied away from carrying a phaser openly on her hip. Anyone who’d paid any attention – and she knew the Rebirth had paid attention to her – knew by now that she was Starfleet, and the eyes on her as she walked through the open gate of the refectory’s outdoor seating area, past its exclusionary sign, were warnings as much as observations.

There are more of us than you.

A subtle tap inside her jacket opened the comline between her and the runabout that could filter back to the whole team. Then she looked around the seated Romulans, all of them open in their staring, and raised her voice. ‘I want to speak to Vortiss.’

When she turned to the front door, he was there. Big and broad, head shaved, more haggard in bearing and clothing than she remembered. He carried a sword on his hip now, as well as the armband of the Rebirth, but all she could remember was the brute who’d ruled the streets with an iron fist. The only change were the years piled on, and fresh illusions of grandeur.

‘Little Saeihr, isn’t it? Back after all these years,’ he rumbled. ‘I wondered why you didn’t take T’Sann and go, like I offered.’

She opened her hands, tried to keep her body language unthreatening, and hoped he didn’t hear her heart pounding in her chest. ‘I want to talk.’

He looked her over – then stepped back from the door and extended a hand. ‘Then let me be a host.’

This would not be the main centre of operations for the Rebirth, she’d been told. It was too open a space; too many windows, too many lines of approach. Any Romulan would be allowed entrance, she suspected, but the Rebirth would fill it with their numbers, parade their strength, make themselves seem like the heart of Teros.

And they did have the numbers. She counted twenty at a glance, just of those inside. More would be at the doors and back rooms, and more still elsewhere in the district. She was, as Airex had said, placing herself in the jaws of the beast.

The beast himself offered a seat at a long table that had all the grandeur of a cafeteria in a prefab emergency relief shelter, but she took the bench without comment. ‘I was generous,’ said Vortiss. ‘Gave you T’Sann for nothing. And now you want more?’

‘I appreciate you saving both sides heartache and bloodshed,’ she said, forcing herself to keep her voice light. ‘That was a smart move.’

‘Don’t butter me up, Starfleet. You come back for the first time in ten years, you talk to your girl Caleste, you go weep at your daddy’s grave. Then you come to me. You got business. Let’s talk business.’

That made it easier, at least. Dancing around with words did not suit the boiling in her veins. Kharth sat forward. ‘T’Sann had something on him he wants back. A technological device.’

Vortiss grunted. ‘The old transponder. Junk. I guess not, if he wants it. What is it?’

She shook her head. ‘That doesn’t matter. He’s an archaeologist, they like junk. He wants it back.’

‘Why does Starfleet want him to want it back? Bundle him into your runabout and go.’

‘Does it matter? I can offer you a good price.’

‘How do I know if it’s a good price if I don’t know what it’s worth?’ Vortiss pointed out, laying his meaty arms on the table.

She swallowed. ‘Hand over the transponder, and Starfleet leaves.’

‘That’s what I wanted you to do when I gave you T’Sann. He wasn’t worth the trouble. But you’re still here, so I’ve still got trouble.’

‘We could be out there, dropping a relief centre at the edge of the district, feeding and supporting the people of Teros you need weak and desperate to turn to you for strength and protection. Instead, everyone’s seen me – who they know’s Starfleet, or will know soon enough – coming to negotiate. With you. They see us talking, and then they see Starfleet leaving. Not lifting a finger to help anyone. They see Starfleet recognising that Teros is yours.’

Vortiss’s eyes narrowed. ‘All this for some measly junk.’

‘There’s more.’ The words almost caught in her throat from nerves. ‘Do you have the transponder here? If not, get it brought here. And I’ll explain the rest while we wait.’

She had him, she could tell from the glint in his eye, and he brought out an old hand-held communicator. He flicked it open with a chirrup. ‘Caleste. Get that old bag of Doctor T’Sann’s and bring it down to the refectory. On the double.’

Kharth watched as the affirmation came back, guilt pinching. ‘She works for you now?’

‘She’s a smart kid. You did a good job teaching her how to survive.’ Vortiss looked like he might say more, then shrugged. ‘I’m not saying we have a deal yet. Talk.’

‘I was told you killed my father,’ she blurted.

His bark of laughter almost made her shoot him at once. ‘Is that what this is about? You want my neck? You think that’s a deal I’ll take?’

‘Except I know now he wasn’t killed on your say-so.’ He sobered at that, and she sat up. ‘That’s the other half of the deal. Tell me who killed him and why.’

‘And for that – for information about a man ten years dead – you’ll make Starfleet pull out of Teros?’ Vortiss’s lip curled. ‘And people wonder why we don’t have faith in Starfleet.’

‘Do you want me to set my personal feelings aside and tell my captain a different story?’

He settled at that, scratching his stubbled cheek, then shrugged. ‘What the hell. Yeah, someone wanted Trenik. I do business with a lot of people, and I used to do business with some of the big fish running all sorts of arms and everything along this sector. So when one of them came to me, saying he wanted to talk to a local who might not be cooperative, I named my price and I walked him over to your old shelter and I let him and his team talk.’

She frowned. ‘What did they want?’

He shrugged again. ‘Apparently, after the Shinzon coup, the new Senate set up a bunch of caches about the empire of arms and equipment and ships, independent of the Navy and the Tal Shiar. That’d let loyalists arm and equip themselves if either went rogue again. Seems your father was involved in the setting up of these caches. They wanted what he knew about them, the location of them.’

That made some sense. Her father had been a mathematician at a university since her birth, but he had for years before worked as a logistics officer with the Senate. Out of public service during the Shinzon event, he would have been seen as a trustworthy civilian figure who had the experience and expertise to assist in such an undertaking. Her throat tightened. ‘He didn’t give up that information.’

‘He did not,’ Vortiss sighed. ‘And he died for it. I’ll spare you the details.’

Her hand twitched. She didn’t know if it wanted her phaser or his throat. ‘Who was this big fish?’

‘’The one who came here was a fella called Drage. Long-dead now, your Starfleet’s probably got files on him.’ Vortiss shook his head. ‘But he was just the agent. The one he was working for – the one who wanted me to help, who paid me to help – was the Myriad.’

‘Who the hell’s the Myriad?’

‘You really were gone from this neck of the woods a while.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘Time was, no drug deal went anywhere in the Neutral Zone, the Triangle, or the Borderlands without the Myriad’s involvement or blessing. He went quiet a few years back, been assumed dead, though I heard a rumour he had his fingers in some business down the Klingons’ way this year. No saying if it’s true.’

‘The Myriad wanted these weapons caches, and my father wouldn’t give up information on them. And he had him killed for it,’ Kharth said, voice low and tense.

‘That’s about it. Look, I’d be sorry, but business is business. You want more on the Myriad, I bet your Starfleet records have plenty. So you and I have no more issue over Trenik’s death.’ He gestured between them. ‘The Myriad wasn’t a man you say no to.’

‘Maybe not.’ She clenched and unclenched her hand. ‘I want everything you’ve got on him, though. Records of comms, transactions, however far back, however minor.’

Vortiss leaned forward. ‘That’ll take me some time. So here’s my offer: you take the transponder when it arrives, leave me with means of getting in touch, and get the fuck off my world. And so I know you won’t screw me over, I send you everything I’ve got on the Myriad in two weeks, when you’re long gone and not about to turn back to cry over some refugees.’

Her jaw tightened. ‘How can I trust you to do that?’

‘How can I trust you? And I’m the one who’s already given you a freebie letting T’Sann go.’

Kharth looked at the table, at her white-knuckled grip on the edge she forced herself to loosen. ‘Alright. That’s a deal. Everything you have on him.’

‘Can’t promise it’ll help. But I bet Starfleet doesn’t have this kind of direct records of his dealings.’ Vortiss looked her over. ‘There’s one more thing I’ll need from you.’

Her throat got tighter as she listened.

* *

Beckett dropped down from the roof of the nearest prefab, landing in the dust next to Drake. ‘They’re still in there, sir,’ he said to Airex as he was helped back up. ‘No sign of any trouble. They’re just talking. Someone else approached the table, but it looks like they might be handing over the transponder?’

T’Sann let out a sigh of relief. ‘Good.’

Airex could have throttled him. ‘Then why did she turn off her com?’ It wasn’t as if Kharth was being particularly cooperative today. But her one grace had been to share their conversation, so while he waited outside he could hear every excruciating detail of the exchange, and feel sicker and sicker with every moment.

Beckett dusted off his hands and shrugged. ‘It doesn’t look like she’s in trouble.’

Less than a minute later, Kharth was hurled through the refectory doors and back into the square. The officers had had to jostle through the crowd, the masses unsure if they wanted the spectacle or to be far from violence, and Airex found himself shoving through the throng of people ahead of the others.

As he watched, Vortiss emerged from the doors, as big and solid as solid as he expected. Kharth had landed in the dirt and he advanced on her, hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. Blood caked her nose and chin. When Vortiss spoke, his voice was loud enough to boom into the crowd. ‘I don’t expect Starfleet back, you hear?’

Airex sent a woman flying as he burst to the front of the crowd, phaser snapping to his hand. ‘Back off.’

Vortiss looked up from Kharth to him, gaze unimpressed. ‘This isn’t your world. You left it. We don’t need you.’

But there was a laboriousness to his voice, Airex thought, and while she looked scuffed and bloodied, Kharth got to her feet without much difficulty, raising a placating her hand. The other held a bundle against her. ‘We’ll go,’ she said, and when he realised he’d never heard her so amenable in her life, he understood.

This is for show.

Kharth still stumbled as she made it to the crowd, and despite his frustration and churning insides, he grasped her shoulder to keep her steady as they backed off.

‘You didn’t need to turn off the comms, you know,’ he hissed.

‘I thought you might make it difficult if you knew he intended to rough me up a bit,’ she replied, and jerked out of his grasp. ‘Sir.’

He should have been furious at her, but guilt was making him too sick to his stomach to conjure either the feeling or his part of the show. The locals parted before them now, happy to let them get out of the way, and they reached the team.

T’Sann advanced on Kharth without shame. ‘You have it?’

Airex could have punched him, but she handed him the bundle. ‘Here, Karlan.’

‘This had better be worth it,’ Airex said through gritted teeth. He turned to Drake before more protests could come. ‘Back to the runabout. We’re returning to Endeavour.’

Beckett blew out his cheeks. ‘So soon? Just as this place was looking like a great holiday spot.’

T’Sann sat her down in the medical section of the lower deck when they returned to the King Arthur, and did a slightly worse job of helping clean and patch her up than she’d done for him the night before. Even though Vortiss had pulled his blows enough to make her nose bleed without breaking, enough to make it look bad without pushing his luck, Kharth was still grateful for the help.

‘I’ll make it clear to your captain that what you did was essential,’ the archaeologist said as he finished up, the runabout by then rumbling through Teros’s upper atmosphere. ‘I wouldn’t have left without the transponder.’

She let out a slow breath and tried to not snap at him. Her motivations had not been wholly selfish, after all, even though anxiety rattled through her veins at the thought of the long wait for Vortiss’s transmission, and the second half of his information on the Myriad. ‘I appreciate that, Karlan. I might need after what I pulled.’

‘It’s paid off. We’re all home free and we have what we need.’ He put the medical equipment down gingerly as he finished. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your father. But I think you’re better off free of that wretched place.’

She had to look past him to see the fading shape skies of Teros dissipate as they passed into orbit, and something in her heart pinched. ‘Yes,’ she said faintly. ‘You’re right.’

They did not speak further on the journey back, and none of the others came down from the upper level. That suited her fine; she had nothing more to say to Airex, and expected Drake and Beckett to be staying well shot of her until the dust settled. Drake was not, she expected, that pleased she’d used him to get her own way, after all.

But the return didn’t feel like it took as long as the trip out, with an entirely different apprehension thudding through her, and soon enough all five of them were descending onto the deck of Endeavour’s shuttlebay. Kharth was not surprised to see Doctor Sadek there, medical kit in hand, but the sight of both Rourke and Valance waiting had her narrowing her eyes.

Had Airex commed ahead? Was he going to bring the hammer down on her as hard as he could with Valance there, his closest ally?

Of course, it was on T’Sann that Rourke first advanced, hand extended. ‘Doctor T’Sann, it’s good to see you in one piece. I’m Captain Rourke; welcome to Endeavour. Commander Airex briefed me on what you’ve been through, and I assure you, we’re going to do everything we can to look for the rest of your team.’

‘Thank you for the assist, Captain. The Rebirth might have given me up without a fight, but that’s because they knew better than to tangle with Starfleet. Much.’ But T’Sann shook his head sadly. ‘Your optimism about my team surpasses mine. Send out word, by all means, but if your ship’s to remain in the Old Neutral Zone, there’s something else I’d hope you’d help me with.’

Rourke exchanged a glance with Airex before extending a hand towards Sadek. ‘Let my Chief Medical Officer give you a check up, and we’ve had guest quarters readied for you. We’ll talk about anything else later.’

Beckett slid up beside the archaeologist, eyes big. ‘Doctor, if you wish – if you’d permit it – I can take the transponder down to our labs. Begin what assessment I can.’

T’Sann hesitated, then gave a crooked smile. ‘You’re right, Ensign, that’s a grand idea. It’s better in one of your labs than bundled in my coat. We can work on it later.’

A corner of Kharth’s mind noted how he handed it to Beckett without surrendering ownership, and invited the young officer into his confidences all at once. But however much his words on the Koderex had sparked something in her, she had little time for that now, straightening and bracing as Sadek led T’Sann away, and it was only the away team and the command officers. Time to face the fire.

The moment the civilian was gone, Airex turned to Valance and Rourke and said, ‘Thank you for both meeting us down here, sirs. I don’t think there’s any time to waste.’ His gaze flickered to Kharth, and she drew a sharp breath, scrabbling for whatever defences she didn’t know to summon.

Then Airex looked back at them and said, ‘We should prepare a relief operation to Teros IV as soon as possible,’ and her stomach dropped out.

She stared at him. ‘What?’

‘Those are people Starfleet abandoned fifteen years ago,’ Airex said, and his voice rose to the pitch not of a personal reminder, but an entreating of all of them gathered, drawing all of them in. ‘And what we’ve seen even over the last day makes it clear they have no prospects, no hope, and have become reliant on criminal gangs and their networks to survive, even as they exploit them. Doctor T’Sann is going to give you a compelling reason for us to stay in the old Neutral Zone, Captain, but I have to recommend we take a week, at least, to do what we can for the people of Teros.’

Rourke was an astute enough man to see the surprise and confusion from the rest of the away team at this, and his eyes landed on Kharth. ‘Lieutenant? You know the place best.’

She sputtered a moment. ‘They – the Commander isn’t incorrect – but…’

Airex looked back at her, voice maddeningly calm. ‘I know you wanted to help T’Sann with your deal, Lieutenant. But you’ve done that. We don’t owe a group like the Rebirth a thing, and certainly not our word.’

Is he doing this just to spite me? That was a petty thought when she had no moral reason to disagree with him, when she knew what good a full relief operation could do for Teros, even if Starfleet left after only a week. It would break the back of the Rebirth on the planet, and give a community much more accustomed to managing its own resources than it was fifteen years ago some sureness underfoot. It would do more for the likes of Caleste than the Rebirth ever could.

And it would cost her the rest of her deal with Vortiss.

Rourke had looked from her to the others, but Drake just gave a shrug. ‘I don’t think I’ve got anything to say the commander didn’t,’ was his diplomatic comment.

Beckett, on the other hand, brightened. ‘I said as much to Commander Airex this morning,’ he rather gushed. ‘And yes, we absolutely have work we can do with Doctor T’Sann, but those people, Commander – ah, Captain…’

‘I see.’ Rourke’s lips twisted with some small amusement, but again his eyes returned to Kharth. ‘I understand this might be a lot, Lieutenant, and that we’d have an uphill battle earning goodwill with these people. They have reason to not want our help. But is there a reason we shouldn’t try?’

She wanted to scream. Shake Airex, shake Rourke, but she couldn’t summon the words. How could she explain this? How could she defend leaving those people to fend for themselves? It had been a decision born of desperation and grief, and the more millions of kilometres stretched between her and Teros IV, the more it felt like a bad dream.

Kharth swallowed. ‘It’ll help them,’ she managed lamely.

Rourke watched her a moment, then turned to Valance. ‘Grab Thawn and put a plan together, then, XO.’ He gave the team a nod. ‘Good work. Get your reports in, and I’ll talk to Doctor T’Sann.’

Airex left the shuttlebay not long after, and she was on his heels, following him into a turbolift and bringing it to a halt the moment the doors shut.

‘What the hell was that?’ she snapped, rounding on him.

Airex straightened an inch, then dropped his voice. ‘Sir. “What the hell was that, sir?” I think that’s the tone you said we should set, Lieutenant?’

‘You didn’t give a damn about the people of Teros -’

‘I won’t take lectures from you about what the people of Teros do or don’t need when you were satisfied to hand the crime gang that runs their streets a victory for your personal affairs. Lieutenant.’ His nostrils flared as he squared his shoulders, visibly reasserting control over his temper. ‘I’m not beholden to your deal. I didn’t agree with or sanction your deal. You secured the transponder for Doctor T’Sann, and we returned both to Endeavour. I have no interest in discussing this any further.’ He turned to the front of the turbolift. ‘Computer, resume.’

It felt fitting for the ground to move under her, and Kharth stared at his shoulders, mute for a moment. At last, she managed, ‘Why didn’t you feed me to Rourke for insubordination?’

He grimaced, glaring at the bulkheads, before at last, he said, ‘Because I know you’re already doubting if the deal with Vortiss would have been worth it. Because I know you’ll realise helping the people of Teros is the right thing to do. Because I know your judgement was clouded by pain. Because I know that’s not who you -’ But he stopped himself, and as he rallied, the turbolift slowed. Airex shook his head and straightened, and it was like with one move he’d shed everything about him she recognised as Dav, and there he was. The parasite.

Her lip curled despite the cold starting to smother any fire of anger sparked by Teros. ‘I guess I’ll find what I need another way.’

He tensed as the doors slid open, then gave her a curt nod. ‘I expect your briefing on the captain’s desk by 2100 hours, Lieutenant,’ he said, and left.

She stared at his disappearing figure, and remained rooted to the deck even as the turbolift doors slid shut, the lift remaining immobile in the absence of any instruction. With a groan, Kharth scrubbed her face with her hands, and felt the quaver in her chest, the tension in her throat. She’d told him to keep it professional, and still hadn’t stopped herself from coming at him like she wouldn’t another superior officer. But he zig-zagged as much as she did, pushing her away only to demonstrate a depth of understanding and flashes of involvement that spun her head. Even if there had been a finality to his parting words, she knew this would fester deep inside her, right next to the knowledge his mother had said his transformation after Joining was unusual, unnatural.

But that could come later. As Kharth slumped against the turbolift wall, trying to swallow down the knot in her throat and scramble for the poise she didn’t dare lose even in private, all she could think of was the deal she’d made, the condemnation she’d almost allowed to fall on Teros, and of how bitterly disappointed her father would have been.

* *

Valance had suspected something was wrong the moment Airex had emerged from the runabout, but his tone when arguing for the relief efforts on Teros had confirmed it. It was too conciliatory, too brazenly manipulative; she knew him as a man who made his point with facts and figures, but he’d shifted to sway a crowd on emotions. It did not surprise her that a Trill of several lifetimes could change his approach, but there had been a desperation to this. Even though Endeavour lacked more pressing assignments, even though he was arguing for something that would do legitimate good, there had been a burning need to this cause she didn’t understand.

She was supposed to deal with the cause now, had made arrangements for Thawn and Sadek to meet in her office to discuss deploying relief efforts, but the wrong-footedness of the whole affair had her heading for Airex’s quarters first. She hammered the door-chime and waited surprisingly long before he invited her in.

He’d tossed his bag on an armchair and was stood by the window. The lights were off to leave him silhouetted by the stars, a slumped figure weighed down by burdens she’d never seen before. At her arrival he straightened. ‘Valance, you should be getting on with -’

‘Thawn has her marching orders and will be in my office soon. There’s no point me sitting around while she cobbles together a quick planning proposal. What’s going on, Dav?’

He stiffened at her use of his first name, and didn’t turn around. ‘It’s been a long day. That’s all.’

Valance padded towards him. ‘Was Kharth difficult -’

He turned sharply, jaw tight, eyes cold. ‘I have no interest in discussing what transpired on the planet. You’ll receive my report once it’s written, Commander.’

Once, she would have taken the dismissal. Once, it wouldn’t have got this far; she wouldn’t have raced down to check on him in the first place. But this wave of coldness had her straightening with surprise, and still she kept her voice low. ‘I think I won’t wait, Dav. Because you’re a state.’

His gaze flickered away, and as she looked him over she saw his hands were balled into fists by his side. ‘I don’t – we can talk about this later -’

But his chest was starting to heave, and only now, closer, could she tell how pale he was in the starlight. She lifted a placating hand. ‘Okay. But can you slow your breathing for me? Deep and steady.’

‘My breathing is fine -’

But he was near-gasping now, and she reached for his arm. ‘It is not -’

His arm snapped out to shake off her touch, and he took a step back, visibly struggling to recover that cold control. ‘Get out.’

‘Dav-’

‘Get out!’

Valance was not the most astute or confident in situations like this, but she’d had enough seminars to recognise a panic attack when she saw one. And still she wasn’t sure what to do when being actively banished from one.

She stepped back, body language back to placation. ‘I’m leaving, alright? But I’m going to talk to Carraway about -’

‘No.’ Airex went very still at that, and she saw a fresh wave of fear strike him. Frantic fury turned to desperation in a heartbeat. ‘Karana, you can’t, you can’t…’

Head spinning, she froze. ‘Then talk to me -’

‘I can’t, I…’ He was loosening his collar, but she saw his hands shaking, and this time he didn’t lash out as she approached. ‘I can’t, I just can’t explain it…’

‘Okay, okay… just… sit down…’ Cautious, she went to guide him to a chair, but instead he slumped back against the bulkhead and slid to the floor and, without much of a choice, she slid down to join him.

He hunched up, forehead on his knees, and she put a hand on his back. All she knew that might help was try to level out his breathing, so she stayed there for a while, voice a low murmur of instructions to breathe in and out, and they stayed like that a while. Even after he’d calmed he didn’t look up, and she didn’t move, the two of them sat in the dark in a corner of his room in silence for a long time.

When Airex lifted his head, his cheeks were wet. ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was hoarse.

She shook her head. ‘Talk to me, Dav.’

Again, he grimaced. ‘No. I’m sorry, but, no.’ She watched him chew on the next words, but whatever she imagined he would say, she didn’t expect what came next. ‘I need to put in for a transfer.’

‘The hell -’

‘For all our years of friendship, I have to ask you to not fight it, and to not ask,’ he rumbled, and looked at her with bleary eyes. ‘It’ll be for the best, Karana. Let me go.’

Almost overnight, the Sanctuary District A had grown a new neighbourhood on its southern periphery. Even though Thawn was now prone to squeaking and hiding at the sight of her, Kharth had to acknowledge Endeavour’s Chief of Operations was damned good at her job to deploy a relief centre on the surface in a matter of hours.

For the moment, the only prefabs were to shelter the industrial replicator, medical centre, refectory, and to shield the staff from the elements. Perhaps, if they had more time, replacement housing could make it into the district itself. In the meantime, anyone and everyone was welcome to queue patiently, have their needs reported to and checked by operations staff, while medical saw to injuries and illnesses and a quick calculation of necessity made sure supplies were replicated as swiftly as possible.

The last day had focused on emergency needs. In forty-eight hours, Thawn said they might move onto more long-term sustainability, like ration packs and clothing. Anything but the most desperately-damaged shelters would probably not be maintained or replaced in less than a week. And all along, Thawn calculated how much she could resupply the industrial replicator already on the surface, while Cortez and a team worked with locals to conduct maintenance and see how much life they could get out of the aged and weathered equipment.

All under the watchful eye of the Security Department, just in case someone decided to make matters difficult. Kharth had kept a light touch with her team; resentment against Starfleet might mean people would stay away, but she didn’t expect troublemakers. She had also kept them out of the district, except for a couple of officers with Cortez and her people. Without word of violence, sending Starfleet officers down the streets of the district was a presumption she couldn’t justify.

Trust had to be earned. And nothing, at least, had gone wrong yet.

But her first long shift on the surface was finishing, and she’d just ducked out of the prefab shelter for her team after briefing Juarez on the takeover to see Drake crossing the yard of the relief camp. He’d spotted her first, and given only a stiff wave.

With an unsteady breath, she approached him. ‘Connor!’

His jaw was tight. ‘What do you want?’

That was worse than she’d expected. ‘I guess I don’t get to just say “hi” until I give you an apology, huh?’

He folded his arms across his chest. ‘I try to not give a shit about whatever the situation is between you and Airex. But that needs you to not drag it all over the yard at me. Or use me in your stupid power-plays against him.’

She winced. ‘I knew he’d never agree with my plan.’

‘Can’t imagine why he’d want to stop you walking onto the turf of a probably-murderous gang to offer them this world on a platter.’

‘I’m not proud of what I did -’

‘Hey.’ He lifted his hands. ‘You don’t have to justify selling out your home to me. I’d probably let New Sydney burn if we were in orbit. But I think you care more about this place than I do there. You can’t come crying to me about your guilt so the other hard-up kid makes you feel better about it.’

Her shoulders slumped. ‘Not much I can say to that.’

Drake shrugged. ‘Cut out the personal crap while pretending it doesn’t exist next time. Either deal with it, or stop kidding yourself.’ He shifted his weight. ‘Drinks tomorrow night in the lounge. Relief team’s going to need to blow off steam after feeding a hundred malnourished kids. I’m making Adrienne sing.’

It almost sounded like a friend trying to move on without giving forgiveness. But Kharth could see the change in him, see the masks shift, and she realised it was more than that. She and Drake hadn’t exactly been close, but they’d been friends, the outsiders and newcomers to Endeavour who’d had to fight for their place and bonding over the experience. He wouldn’t have discussed their shared ground struggling to fit in with Starfleet otherwise. Now he would drink and party and laugh with her, play the jocular fool he’d acted from the start, but she didn’t think he’d share like that with her again.

She gave him only a tenuous commitment, and he went to no pains to force more from her, the two parting ways with the light, casual air of passing acquaintances. With a sigh, Kharth turned away to head to the pop-up transporter pad that made travel from the surface easier, and almost ran into the slight figure of one of the Teros refugees who’d become separated from the main crowd.

Caleste backed off at once, and though Kharth could see this was no accident, that she’d sought her out, she already looked like she was having second thoughts. ‘You’re still here.’

Kharth straightened, throat tight. ‘Me? Or the ship?’

The sullen shrug was fitting for the teenager Caleste had become. But then, she had good reason to be sullen. ‘Vortiss is gone. Cleared out his servers and the gang’s out of the old comms tower. He expected you were going to come for him after the double-cross.’

There was little hope of an outfit like Vortiss’s having data backups, even if she went after him. And he’d certainly have wiped what she was after. Kharth rubbed the back of her neck. ‘If we do this right, I expect he’ll stay gone. We can outfit your industrial replicator with material to last you… I don’t know, that’s not my department. A while.’

A guarded glint entered Caleste’s gaze. ‘Someone else will come along.’

‘Maybe. But not today. We can give you today.’

The girl kicked at the dirt. ‘I thought you were going to stick to the deal. Take what you wanted, get data from Vortiss. Let everyone see him kick you off the planet. Nobody would have stood up to him after that.’

Kharth swallowed bile and guilt. ‘I needed to be sure he had the transponder and wouldn’t hold it over me.’ The lie tasted even more bitter, but she didn’t think she could tell Caleste the truth without throwing up. I would have abandoned you. Again.

Caleste gave a nod that was more a duck of the head. ‘Mum’s still around. We just got kicked out to a smaller shelter. Tion moved on, got taken on as a deckhand on some freighter, said he’d get us passage away eventually… that was three years ago. Not heard anything since. So we’re somewhere smaller. She’d… I bet she’d like to see you. Some time.’

‘I’ll be here a few days. I can bring…’ Kharth’s head spun at the options. Years? Atonement? Wine? ‘I’ll bring something.’

Another nod, but the gangly youth seemed a little brighter for it. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you.’ She hesitated. ‘Thanks. For doing this. For not leaving us.’

When Kharth left, she knew she had a new secret that she would tear up before she whispered it into the fire.

The return to Endeavour was relieving for more than the temperature regulation, the cool corridors welcome after the dusty heat of Teros. The decisions of the past few days, the way the world and the memories it evoked had moulded her feelings and her choices, sloughed away within bright, clean Starfleet halls. She was not Saeihr, refugee of Teros. She was Lieutenant Kharth.

Her arrival in the A&A lab was cautious, and she only stepped inside once she’d checked Airex was still in his office the next section down. Beckett had installed the transponder in the main archaeology lab so it could be cleaned and examined with all due care, and T’Sann had installed himself not long after his conversations with Rourke.

Days after his captivity, he had less the look of a desperate vagrant. His hair was tied up in rounded knot, beard trimmed, and in clean new clothes with the worst of the experience behind him, he had more the look of a spry academic in his element than a recently abducted adventurer. The transponder was for now elevated in a containment field in the centre, a sterile environment where it could be scanned and assessed ahead of maintenance, a projection of the results scrawling next to it before T’Sann.

But despite the feast of details and discoveries ahead of him, he turned away from the display at her arrival with a small, pleased smile. ‘Saeihr. I’m glad you came by, after all.’

She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, so advanced on the containment field to study the transponder properly for the first time. She was no engineer or historian, however, and could think nothing of the device other than that it looked old. ‘How’s it going here?’

‘Still scanning and making sure it can even be rendered functional. This is delicate work for something that’s been kicked around a lot. The surface?’

‘There’s a lot of work to do.’ She didn’t look away from the transponder. ‘I expect we won’t be able to follow any leads of yours for a week or more.’

‘That’s fine, I have plenty to do. Your captain hasn’t made any commitments, but he’s said he’ll consider my findings at the end of the relief project. I’m speaking with the Daystrom Institute and hoping they’ll support Starfleet rendering assistance. I might be here for a while.’ His smile softened. ‘I’m sorry for how much you had to give up.’

She glanced at him at last. Of course, he would have been in earshot as her conversation with Vortiss came across the open comms. ‘Don’t be,’ she said at length. ‘I’ll find the Myriad by other means. He’s probably dead anyway.’

‘I still appreciate you securing the transponder. You’ve gone above and beyond for the Romulan people, Saeihr.’

‘I didn’t do this for the Romulan people,’ she snapped. ‘I used the transponder to get in the door with Vortiss and to justify my choices.’ She swallowed the rising bitterness. ‘For the first time in ten years, I thought I had a chance to do something about my father’s death. And it was like everything else faded away and stopped being important. Everything I’d learnt, everything I’d become…’ She shook her head. ‘I almost sold out an entire world, what was once my home, for some half-baked shot at a path to vengeance. All it took was twenty-four hours for me to forget who I was.’

T’Sann gave a deep sigh, brow furrowed in quiet thought. Eventually he said, ‘I don’t presume to know you, Saeihr. But I know how pain blinds us. How trauma scours away the edges of who we are. How, when our raw nerves are exposed, we don’t think, we just feel. And I think you sell yourself and your choices short.’

She gave a bitter laugh. ‘I would have promised Vortiss Teros itself if he’d given me what I wanted.’

‘You didn’t argue for keeping the deal with Captain Rourke. I saw how you outfoxed and defied Commander Airex on the surface; if you’d wanted to, you could have defended leaving Teros. The moment you could breathe, you realised. And that’s not all.’ T’Sann reached for the controls on the containment field, and adjusted the display to show both the carbon and quantum dating of the transponder. ‘Look at that and tell me you didn’t do what you did for our people.’

Kharth’s eyes dragged over the dates and analysis, read of this ancient piece of her people’s birth turned to numbers even as its solid mass hovered in front of her. ‘I don’t…’

But T’Sann pressed on, voice going urgent. ‘So many of the Romulan people, of us, have lost everything. You didn’t just lose your father, Saeihr, you lost your world and your home and your people. That’s not a wound that heals. I saw the look in your eyes when I told you of the Koderex, when I told you what it would mean for our people. You weren’t just trying to avenge your father’s death, you were seeking comprehension of all your losses.’

She dropped her gaze, staring at the metal rim of the control panel. ‘He’d be so ashamed of me.’

‘I can’t tell you what he’d think,’ T’Sann accepted. ‘What I think is that you stumbled, and people around you dragged you through – Airex may have been furious, but he didn’t stop you in the end, and he didn’t report you for insubordination. He got you over the finish line. And now you’re here with clarity.’ Before she could contemplate his assessment of Airex too hard, he’d pressed on, and she let her mind banish the ramifications. ‘I cannot give you answers about your father. I can give you comprehension of your loss.’

Bile went down easier when she swallowed this time, and she looked up to meet his gaze. ‘Find the Koderex.’

‘Help me persuade Captain Rourke to assist, help me learn all I can of the transponder and the Vomal and the old star charts, help me uncover untold secrets of the birth of our people. Help me make the lost a little less lost.’

She glanced back at the transponder. ‘I’m not sure I have the best skills to help you.’

‘You have an upbringing in Romulan society; you’ve internalised more of the culture than I could ever learn,’ T’Sann said simply. ‘No, you may not be an historian or a linguist or a technician, but don’t worry. This can be a team effort.’

As if summoned, the doors hissed open and T’Sann straightened with the ghost of a satisfied smile. ‘Ensign Beckett, glad you could join us. And you must be Lieutenant Lindgren.’

Beckett and Lindgren approached the containment field and display readout, the lieutenant looking wryly amused. ‘What can I say, Doctor? You made a compelling case.’

Beckett looked at her, affronted. ‘I recruited your help.’

‘Obviously using the doctor’s arguments.’ Lindgren glanced at Kharth with, she thought, an unwelcome air of astuteness, before returning her gaze to the transponder. ‘If I can be of assistance getting this to talk to any ship like it still out there, I’d love to help.’

T’Sann clapped his hands together. ‘Grand! We have a lot of work ahead of us, but a lot of time to fill until I have to persuade your Captain Rourke. Shall we be about it, then? Uncovering the birth of a culture?’

Beckett cast Kharth a sidelong look. ‘Joining us on a once in a lifetime treasure hunt, then, Lieutenant?’

Kharth gave a gentle snort, feeling a little more like her old self, feeling guilt skitter to dark corners. Somewhere inside her rumbled Airex’s warnings about T’Sann, but louder were T’Sann’s words only moments ago. Perhaps she had lost herself in a quest for answers or vengeance, perhaps her pain had blinded her. But there was a pain here she could do something about, and for more than herself. ‘You’re joining us, Ensign. In reigniting the heart of a people.’