‘The time is 0630.’ After fifteen years in Starfleet, Karana Valance should have been used to being woken by the dulcet tones of a starship computer. But without fail every morning was a jolt to consciousness, and at her movement the lights in her quarters rose to a dim, gentle illumination. For thudding heartbeats she sat there, steadying her breathing, letting her eyes adjust, and centred herself. She was aboard Endeavour, the faint hum of a low warp rumbling through the deck. She was not alone.

Isa Cortez, as ever, woke only barely and with much reluctance, rolling over to burrow deeper under the covers. ‘Nope.’

‘It’s morning,’ Valance reminded, swinging her legs over the bed.

‘For you. You’re gonna run. Have fun.’

Cortez did not move again as Valance rose, nor as she fished out her exercise gear before leaving. This routine had played some part in the two spending more and more nights in Valance’s quarters; Cortez was far more easy-going about her schedule, though the extra space of the XO’s rooms helped. But here, even in the gloom, Valance knew where everything was, and could head with a robotic certainty out the door and to the gym.

Deck 2 was officers’ quarters and adjoining facilities: the officers’ mess, a limited selection of recreation and exercise rooms. The halls were quiet at this hour, but even among the fewer faces Valance passed, she could see the tension. The straight backs and crisp nods at the sight of her, the burdens on everyone’s shoulders. They had left behind Teros IV, but nothing was over. Arriving at Starbase 23 before setting off on a fresh patrol had ended nothing. Not for the ship, anyway, but that thought gave Valance a fresh burst of resentment to power her through the first few kilometres on the gym’s treadmill.

They had arrived maybe a week ago, leaving not long after. The first of their crew to disembark had been Connor Drake, and he’d done so in a casket. But the next had been Davir Airex, and he’d done so with all worldly belongings. Valance had walked him aboard the starbase, walked with him to the transport that would take him at top speed to his new assignment at Starbase Bravo, pretended she had business on 23 to justify seeing him off.

‘You’d best keep me posted if you learn of anything on Admiral Beckett’s staff we need to know,’ she’d told him stiffly as they’d reached the docking port.

‘Of course you’ll be briefed,’ Airex had replied, only to add, ‘But I expect much of what I’ll handle will be classified.’

But she hadn’t really been asking him for security updates, and it was hard to believe he didn’t know that. So she’d squared up as the airlock doors spun open, looking him in the eye. ‘Do I get to know why you’re leaving?’

‘Admiral Beckett needs -’

‘Why you requested a transfer before all this?’ she’d pressed.

He’d looked away, at the door to his escape rolling open to clear his path, and she’d seen the struggle. But all he’d said was, ‘This is for the best. For my career. For the ship. For all of you.’ And then he’d left, and no more was said for the end of three years of friendship and camaraderie.

She ran longer than she meant to, forcing half a jog on the late return to her quarters. Cortez was at the replicator and raised an eyebrow. ‘I was gonna ask if you wanted food before shower, but nope, you’re a state; I’m not sitting to breakfast with you like this.’

‘I lost track of time,’ Valance grumbled.

‘Uh huh. I’ll make it a pot of coffee.’

‘No, don’t,’ she protested, heading past her for the bathroom. ‘I’m low on time, I’ll shower and change and head straight up.’

‘Uh huh.’

But when Valance returned, clean and in uniform, she found a pot of coffee, two mugs, and a plate of eggs and toast before the empty chair across from Cortez eating. ‘I said -’

‘It’s a morning meeting with the captain. Which means he’ll pile loads on your plate – like me, I guess – and then you’ll stay busy. You’re not having a duty shift on an empty stomach.’ Cortez jabbed her fork at the opposite seat. ‘Eat some damned eggs, woman.’

‘It’s a meeting to discuss staff arrangements. It’s important.’ But Valance slid into the seat and poured herself a mug of coffee. She could bring that with her, at least. ‘I think I liked this relationship better when you were too afraid of my boundaries to boss me around.’

‘I don’t know how you survived without me, honestly,’ said Cortez with an amiable shake of the head. ‘Speaking of staffing and bossing, tell Rourke I don’t want to be second officer.’

Valance frowned. ‘You can’t tell him?’

‘I will. But he might ignore me. So we can be a united front on this.’

‘You’re going to have to be, at least temporarily,’ Valance pointed out. ‘Who else will do it? Sadek’s not bridge qualified. Dathan?’

‘Dathan would be fine. I mean, that’s a little bit too much sarcasm in the command team for me to love it…’

‘Why don’t you want it?’ Valance’s frown deepened. ‘You’re qualified, you’re capable, it’ll be great for your career.’

‘Woah, my career is doing fine.’ Cortez lifted a hand. ‘In the engine room. Where I intend to stay.’

‘Where you’re a great team leader with sound judgement, traits which apply very effectively to command -’

‘Which I don’t want! And this is the argument I didn’t want to have with Rourke, either!’

Valance stabbed her breakfast as she pondered this. ‘I didn’t know this was an argument. But yes, I had been planning on explaining to the captain that it wouldn’t be a problem for the chain of command if you were second officer.’

Cortez was watching her, gaze cautious. ‘Maybe I can do it temporarily. Until everything with Sae and Rhade gets sorted.’

‘Kharth won’t be second officer,’ Valance said, acerbic again. ‘Neither of them should be second officer. The ship needs a reliable command team who will follow orders and maintain crew cohesion, so why are you being difficult about this because of your long-term ambitions?’

Now Cortez raised both hands defensively. ‘Alright! I said temporarily! But if Rourke has to replace four members of the senior staff, at some point he can get someone better than me shipped in!’

Valance didn’t answer, ploughing through breakfast. She had more appetite for that than the conversation, which she expected to repeat with Rourke. Cutlery was set down with a slight clatter when she finished, and she topped up her mug to carry with her.

‘I’ll tidy if you’ve gotta get going,’ offered Cortez, watching her.

‘I do,’ Valance said roughly, and stood before she hesitated. ‘I’ll let you know what my schedule’s like tonight.’

Cortez looked on the verge of rolling her eyes. ‘Do I get to not be on eggshells any time soon?’

‘What?’

‘You can be bummed that Dav left, but please don’t take it out on me.’

‘I’m not -’ Valance paused, and contemplated the myriad of things that had disrupted her sleep and kept her out of sorts. They did include Airex’s departure, but they also included programming targeting solutions on a Romulan scout ship. ‘We’ll talk about that… this evening?’ she said with a wince, and wondered if Carraway would be proud of her. Baby steps.

Now Cortez’s near-eye roll looked more affectionate. ‘Sure. Go see Rourke, and if he’s really having kittens over second officer… fine.’

‘Endeavour thanks you for your service,’ said Valance wryly, leaning down to give her a peck on the cheek before she headed off.

‘I almost died saving the ship once but fine!’ Cortez called as she left, but it was still a bit much for Valance to treat that memory with the same levity.

Rourke had set this morning meeting uncomfortably early, presumably so they could get it out of the way before their duty shifts, and Valance assumed she had enough credit with the captain to endure a couple of minutes’ tardiness. But she realised something was amiss when she arrived at the bridge and headed for the ready room, only for Lieutenant Thawn at the command chair to pipe up.

‘They’re on the conference room, Commander.’

Valance stopped. ‘They?’

Thawn hesitated. ‘Captain Rourke and the others?’

Which was the only reason Valance didn’t look completely bewildered when she made it to the conference room to find Rourke sat across from Lieutenant Juarez and Ensigns Beckett, Harkon, and Arys.

Rourke frowned even as he ushered her to a seat beside him. ‘Commander Valance; glad you could join us.’ She heard the admonishment and tried to not bristle at him dropping it in front of junior officers. But to explain would only draw more attention, so she sat next to him and kept her expression measured, even as she studied the faces in front of her for a hint. They all looked as lost as her.

After a quick gulp of coffee, however, Rourke straightened like he meant business. ‘Good morning, people. Endeavour has received fresh orders and we’ll be finishing this border patrol soon,’ he said, and Valance tried to not burn through his skull with her glare. This was the first she’d heard of any new assignment. ‘Obviously we have something of a staffing issue, still. That’s why the four of you are here.’ Valance glanced at Juarez and Harkon, whose presence she somewhat understood, but Beckett in particular looked nonplussed, a sense she shared.

But it was Juarez who piped up first, shifting his weight uncomfortably. ‘Lieutenant Kharth hasn’t been shipped off or released from the brig.’ The question was left unspoken.

‘The question of bringing charges against Lieutenants Kharth and Rhade,’ said Rourke smoothly, ‘will be delayed until the end of this crisis. I hope it doesn’t come to that. But as we move to something more significant than making sure the border to the Neutral Zone is quiet, I want you carrying on as Chief of Security and Tactical.’

Juarez was a competent officer with some years under his belt, who had possibly been disappointed that Kharth had been brought in after Commander T’Sari’s death anyway, so Valance was begrudgingly impressed to observe his reluctance. Apparently Kharth had won some loyalty, at least. But the burly Texan nodded. ‘I can do that for a time.’

Rourke grunted at ‘for a time,’ before he looked on to Harkon. ‘Likewise, Ensign, Command has yet to find us a new helm officer under current circumstances. I’d like you to carry on as Acting Chief Flight Control. I expect this to only be for a few more weeks.’ He was softer then, at least; asking her to step into a dead man’s boots was a different prospect to taking over from a disgraced superior. Her nod and assent were quiet, polite, before Rourke looked over to Arys. ‘Ensign, you’re taking over the Hazard Team.’

Arys straightened with surprise, and Valance almost missed the stunned look on Juarez’s face because she, too, was staring at Rourke. ‘Sir?’ The young yeoman squared his shoulders. ‘I’ve – Chief Kowalski -’

‘Is a capable second. But you’ve been training with Lieutenant Rhade to take a space on the team, and you have the rank. You should of course listen to Chief Kowalski, he knows what he’s doing, but it’s time you were given more opportunities and more responsibility. In addition to your regular duties, of course. Commander Valance will be stepping back in as training officer,’ said Rourke, which was news to Commander Valance, too.

As people marshaled their expressions of surprise, Arys brightened. ‘Of course, sir!’ he said, visibly fighting a beam. ‘I won’t let you down.’

‘Good,’ said Rourke, then looked to Beckett. ‘Nate, I want you as Acting Chief Science Officer.’

Much to Valance’s relief, Nate Beckett blurted out, ‘What?’ before she could, before adding, ‘Sir, Lieutenant Veldman has seniority…’

‘Lieutenant Veldman is a biochemist,’ Rourke pressed on. ‘Our mission will need your skills far more. It’s irregular, I grant you, but don’t be misled by how Endeavour’s done things in the past; Commander Airex was over-qualified for this post, which is why he’s moved on.’

Beckett stared at the table like he was contemplating all the ways he might be fragged by Lieutenant Veldman, an officer seven years his senior who had served as Assistant Chief since Endeavour’s commissioning. At last he flapped, ‘I – if that’s what you want, sir. I’m not sure why our mission of particles -’

‘There’ll be a senior staff briefing soon,’ Rourke cut in. ‘Everything will be clear then. In the meantime, get to work in your departments for the takeover. These might be temporary arrangements, but make no mistake: these are difficult times, and I expect the best from all of you. Understood?’ At the awkward nods, he waved a curt hand. ‘Dismissed.’

The four of them trooped out, leaving Valance staring at Rourke, who shifted between PADDs and didn’t look at her, even when the door shut behind Juarez. At last he said, ‘I’m thinking of making Thawn temporary second officer.’

Valance’s jaw dropped. ‘Thawn? Cortez has seniority.’

‘Cortez is best not taken out of her engine room. Besides.’ Rourke looked up at her. ‘She won’t want it, will she? And Thawn has much more bridge experience than Dathan.’

‘I don’t think Beckett wants Science, either, but that didn’t seem to factor in there.’ She leaned forward, baffled. ‘Captain, I understand Juarez and Harkon – you’re just confirming what they’ve got to do anyway – but Beckett? Arys?’

‘Arys was put on Endeavour because he’s frighteningly bright and competent and is going to be a captain some day,’ Rourke said plainly. ‘That’s why he was going to be mentored by MacCallister. He didn’t get MacCallister in the end, he got me, and all I’ve done is have him pushing paper. He’s exactly the kind of young talent to lead a Hazard Team.’

‘He’s barely trained with them and hasn’t deployed with them.’

‘Neither had you when you saved the ship from the Wild Hunt boarding party.’

‘I have a little more experience than Tar’lek Arys!’ But his expression didn’t budge, and she found herself drifting from disastrous topic to disastrous topic. ‘As for Science, Lieutenant Veldman is perfectly qualified, and she was Commander Airex’s choice.’

‘Commander Airex also chose to leave this ship. And like I said, Nate Beckett’s talents will be more suited to our mission.’

She worked her jaw. ‘Is there a reason you made these personnel changes without consulting me?’

Now he looked at her, bright eyes rather paler than she was used to, stern and stiff in a way she associated with when she’d put him on the back foot in the early days of their relationship. ‘Because I was sure of them, Commander. This crisis isn’t over, and I’m going to need you to keep on trusting me.’

‘Of course I trust you,’ said Valance, and meant it even if she had to shove the words out a bit. ‘But we got through Teros because you were as open with me as you could be. I don’t see why these command decisions needed to be made in the dark.’

He hesitated, but then the door-chime sounded and his expression shut down as his head whipped around. ‘Come in!’

The arrival of Doctor T’Sann made Valance feel like she was even more steps behind, but to her relief the archaeologist looked about as nonplussed as her. ‘Captain Rourke. You wanted to see me? Honestly, I wasn’t going to hold you to your agreement to help me with my research; it seems the sky’s falling in one way or another…’

Rourke didn’t smile, gesturing T’Sann to a seat opposite. ‘That’s not why I asked you to stay on board when we reached 23. I thought your familiarity with the Neutral Zone might be an asset, but it seems your skills are even more significant. I think you can help Starfleet, Doctor. If so, I can give you a cast-iron commitment to chasing your lost wreck when this is over.’

T’Sann’s eyebrows raised with curiosity, but the way he sat back suggested he wasn’t getting his hopes up. ‘You have my attention.’

‘As you say, the sky is falling in,’ said Rourke. ‘I’m not cleared to explain it all to you, but my most recent orders from Command are to pursue any and all avenues to learn more about the Tkon Empire. Especially anything related to a system they might have moved beyond the Galactic Barrier.’

‘The Tkon?’ T’Sann scratched his beard. ‘Not my precise area, but I dare say I know more than the average historian…’

‘I don’t really need a history lesson. What I want to know is, if you wanted to learn something new about the Tkon – find some world we’ve not reached, pick up some archive or device – and you weren’t constrained by resources, laws, or politics, where would you go?’

Valance found herself watching the two men like it was a game of racquetball, with Rourke’s volleys keeping T’Sann on his heels. ‘How interesting,’ the doctor mused. ‘How much trouble are you prepared to stir?’

‘Nothing we can’t walk away from. But Endeavour is a very big stick.’

T’Sann leaned forwards. ‘Arcidava,’ he said at last, and smiled at their nonplussed expressions. ‘Assuming this crisis is enough that you can let yourselves into Republic space, anyway?’

‘I think the treaties will cope, so long as we’re polite. What’s Arcidava?’

‘There are – were – several major establishments of historical research in the Old Romulan Star Empire. It shouldn’t surprise you to learn they’ve largely remained in the territory of the Empire or the Free State. But then there’s the monastery at Arcidava.’

Valance raised an eyebrow. ‘Monastery?’

T’Sann sighed. ‘Without getting too deep into the monastic traditions, these orders are among the oldest organisations in Romulan culture – sometimes predating it. They’re long-lived and often somewhat independent of government politics. This positions them perfectly to act as keepers of records and relics of value, which is a role the Fae Diwan of Arcidava have performed for centuries. They are…’ He hesitated, gathering words. ‘They’d call themselves seekers of truth within secrets. So to that end, they’ve committed themselves to understanding the secrets and truths of the galaxy’s past.’

‘Do they share that knowledge?’ she asked dubiously.

‘There were few research agreements between the Federation and the old Romulan Star Empire,’ he pointed out, ‘but their monks did travel and discuss their findings and research. The DI’s wanted access to their archives for years, but the Star Empire and Free State have made it clear they’d be very upset if the Republic shared such an asset. Of course, they frame it as objecting to the Republic exposing a cultural touchstone like the Fae Diwan to outside interference. But nobody wanted to trigger warbirds crossing the Republic border for the sake of some dusty old tomes – or, in this case, highly advanced and ancient digital archives.’

Rourke sat up. ‘They have archives on the Tkon?’

‘I don’t know,’ T’Sann admitted. ‘But if they do, nobody in the Federation’s ever seen them. I have met some of the monks of Fae Diwan; if we can get there without upsetting the Republic too badly, I expect I can convince them to help. But there’ll be hell to pay for the diplomats when this is over.’

‘There’ll be hell to pay sooner if we find nothing.’ Rourke nodded, then looked at Valance. ‘Set us a course, XO. I’ll get on to Command so someone in the Republic at least invites us in.’

T’Sann smiled. ‘I’ll reach out to my contacts once the welcome mat’s rolled out.’

But Valance was stiffer as she stood, hands clasping behind her back. ‘As you say, Captain. Arcidava.’ Then she left without further comment, because for all the uncertainties, one thing seemed apparent: Rourke had no interest in seeking her opinion on the choices ahead.

Lieutenant Vakkis was a stern, stuffy Tellarite who ruled over the brig with an iron fist, which Thawn thought an unnecessarily fastidious attitude to have to a custody suite which almost never had anyone in it. It was a complex job requiring he manage and protect detainees as much as – if not more than – keep them locked up securely, but she couldn’t imagine anyone would find his manner comforting. Then again, he had been appointed by the late Commander T’Sari, who had not been known for her warm or conscientious manner.

Hardly like her successor, Thawn noted wryly.

But Vakkis looked unexpectedly apprehensive at her arrival, which at least meant he wouldn’t treat her arrival as a deep inconvenience. ‘Lieutenant Thawn, uh. Back to see him?’

This was only her second visit. The first time, she’d barely finished cleaning Connor’s blood off her hands. The conversation had not lasted long. She clasped her hands behind her back. ‘And I’d appreciate it if I could speak with him in private.’

Vakkis shifted his weight. ‘I’ll be up here at the desk.’

‘I mean, to be let in the cell.’ His expression didn’t change, and she rolled her eyes. ‘Kharth is right there if I talk to him in the open. I am his next-of-kin, you know.’

‘That’s not… I mean, legally…’

‘By Betazoid custom it’s good enough,’ Thawn found herself lying. Mostly she didn’t want Kharth present. ‘And I am a member of the senior staff, so -’

‘Alright,’ Vakkis grumbled. ‘This way, Lieutenant.’

Her last, brief conversation with Adamant Rhade had consisted of confirming he was, in fact, not going to take Captain Rourke’s offer of a reprieve. Kharth had been silent in the cell behind her, but Thawn could feel, even without her telepathic gifts, the wave of disapproval off the security chief. She could not quite bring herself to make them allies in this.

Rhade stood the moment he saw her, and remained standing as Vakkis let her into the cell, then sealed and sound-proofed it behind her. ‘Rosara -’

‘Are you actually going to stand on ceremony like you respect me, Adamant? Really?’

He blinked. ‘I apologise if I’ve…’ He hesitated, and she didn’t do him the favour of indignantly finishing his point for him. ‘Upset you.’

‘Upset me? Why would you have upset me?’ Her voice went up a pitch she wished it hadn’t, but she tried to not move, aware her body-language was on full display for Kharth. ‘Maybe by refusing to accept a minor slap on the wrist to return to duty, and instead drawing out this ridiculous affair?’

‘Ridiculous?’ Rhade frowned. ‘What’s ridiculous is Captain Rourke giving that order and Command doing nothing about it. Not so much as an inquiry. I’ve had nobody external come to speak with me. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?’

‘Doesn’t that strike you as perhaps a sign this won’t go your way if you insist on fighting? This is Starfleet, Adamant. Take the black mark and go back to work.’

His broad, honest face sank. ‘I thought you would understand.’

‘I understand that something is happening which has shaken Starfleet to its core. Don’t be naive, Adamant; if this is legal, if all of this is legal, do you think you’ll get a court martial where you can make a public stand and expose it all? You don’t think there’ll be regulations on handling classified missions, matters of national security, which will bury this?’

She wasn’t sure why she’d taken the tack of appealing to his sense of pragmatism. For all the complexities of their arranged betrothal, she didn’t know Adamant Rhade very well – but she knew that was not his strong suit. Before he could reply, she looked away with an exasperated sound. ‘Of course you think you should try. I can’t stop you.’

‘I know this is difficult for you -’

‘Oh, do you? My future is bound to yours by the decision of everyone but me, and I’m expected to meet that commitment. But here you are, throwing away your life just to prove a point, as if you don’t owe me anything. Should I be ready to stand tearfully by you in court and then promise you I’ll be waiting once they let you out of New Zealand Penal Colony?’ Her fists tightened as she saw him hesitate. ‘If you want to be this upstanding man of honour, meeting his duties and his responsibilities, you have other commitments, too.’

Rhade was silent for a moment, but when he spoke, he’d straightened. ‘All I can do, for everyone and everything to which I owe loyalty, is be the best man I can. The arrangement between our families demands I’m that man for you. Not a snake who takes the easy way out.’

Thawn gave him a dubious look. ‘I don’t think there’s anything in your decision here that’s for me,’ she pointed out, then turned to tap the panel to summon Vakkis. ‘If you let this get to court martial while you have a way out,’ she added as the brig officer approached, ‘I will certainly use this as grounds to dissolve our arrangement.’

He didn’t have a chance to reply before Vakkis let her out and sealed the cell behind her, but by not looking at Rhade, Thawn found herself facing Kharth, stood before her own forcefield with an intense expression.

‘Any luck?’ Kharth asked.

Thawn paused, despite Vakkis’s pained gaze. ‘Wait, you’re not dragging your heels?’

‘The captain can’t let one of us out with a slap on the wrist while the other burns in a martyr’s fire in a public court martial,’ Kharth pointed out wryly.

Thawn wasn’t sure if she dared express sympathy. The two women had barely spoken personally since the Battle of Elgatis some months ago, where Kharth had in the aftermath accused her of cowardice in a fight which had claimed the lives of two of the Hazard Team, a charge on which Thawn could barely defend herself. Even if Thawn knew it had been anger and grief that made Kharth throw out blame, the wound was still raw, and she could see none of that accusation in Kharth’s eyes now. Perhaps now those deaths were not as important as her own neck.

‘Are you alright?’ Thawn found herself saying instead. ‘Us leaving Teros, and leaving Teros in the circumstances we did, and… Connor…’ It felt petty to be relieved at the expression of pain at the mention of Drake. But malice was not her motivation; rather, Thawn was glad that for once people weren’t looking at her with sympathy.

Kharth glanced away. ‘He and I didn’t… we left things badly. Not that he’d have admitted it, of course. But I know he was angry with me, and I deserved it.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s easy for me to think it might have gone differently down there if I weren’t in here.’

Sympathising with Kharth over her situation and the loss of Connor Drake was one thing. Sympathising with her guilt over doing more to save his life was a bridge too far. ‘Maybe,’ Thawn found herself saying. ‘You’re Chief of Security and Teros might have listened to you. So yes, maybe you could have avoided this.’

She left before she had to deal with either Kharth’s hurt or her outrage.

The bridge felt very different these days. Beyond the command chairs, the only usual face on the Alpha Shift was Lindgren, to whose station Thawn drifted when she arrived on duty some hours later. ‘Have they messed anything up?’ Thawn asked in a low voice.

Lindgren gave her a gently chiding glance. ‘They’re fine. They’re nervous. You could look less judgy.’

‘I only really judge Beckett,’ Thawn insisted quietly. ‘You know he’s only here because he’s the admiral’s son.’

‘He’s not as much of an idiot as he pretends,’ said Lindgren, gaze tired.

But then Ensign Harkon spoke up at Helm. ‘Coming up on the Republic border, Captain.’

At the pointed looks, Thawn assumed her post next to her at Ops. ‘Two scout ships detected on an intercept course,’ she reported as she checked sensors.

‘That’s our welcome team,’ said Rourke, sat in the command chair. ‘Bring us in to meet them and take us out of warp, we’ll do this on their terms.’

Minutes later, Endeavour drifted back to impulse in a hazy space between the stars where the borders of the Federation and the Romulan Republic had been agreed, and on sensors appeared the small blips of two ships Thawn was not convinced could stand against them if they really wanted to make something of it. But this meeting with Romulan ships was not, at least, supposed to end in violence.

At Rourke’s instruction the inbound hail was put through to the viewscreen, showing the crisp interior of a Republic ship. With her experience limited to the affairs of the Star Empire, Thawn could see the difference in ethos by uniform alone, officers in a looser cut that had less of the daunting authoritarianism of the other Romulan militaries.

‘This is Commander Vorena,’ came the cautious greeting. ‘We welcome you to the Romulan Republic, USS Endeavour.’

‘Thank you, Commander. I’m Captain Matt Rourke. Starfleet appreciates your cooperation under these unusual circumstances. Will you be our escorts all the way to Arcidava, or will it suffice if we follow your flight routes?’

‘I’ll be escorting you, if only for appearance’s sake. People should see you’re guests, not interlopers.’

Rourke nodded, and to Thawn’s relief he had none of that angry tension she’d seen hanging off him for weeks, was capable today of at least projecting his amiability. ‘Good, good. I understand this is all pretty irregular. I’m grateful not just for your government’s cooperation, but yours.’

‘Always happy to help our Federation friends,’ said Vorena, though Thawn could hear the unspoken warning. The Republic had given a lot, their arms likely twisted, and would rather not be pushed any further. It was, at least, a problem which could only be improved right now with sufficient applications of courtesy. ‘Transmitting the flight route to Arcidava now. We’ll follow in your wake, Endeavour.’

The viewscreen went dead and a moment later, Harkon nodded back from Helm. ‘Flight route’s here.’

‘Program it in and let’s be underway, Warp 9. We don’t have time to waste,’ said Rourke. ‘Nate, keep up long-range scans. We’re nearer the Empire’s border than I’d like and even if they won’t stick their noses in Republic space, I want to know how likely it is we’re spotted out here.’

‘You got it, Captain,’ said Beckett, and Thawn tried to not roll her eyes when he piped up a moment later. ‘Republic space, huh? Never been here.’

‘Most of us haven’t,’ Valance said a little tensely. ‘And we’re guests; they’re risking a lot by allowing us access. Everyone should be on their best behaviour.’

‘Don’t worry, Commander,’ assured Beckett. ‘I always behave.’

Thawn’s gaze drifted about the bridge, at the lack of familiar and reliable faces at stations, at the awkward tension of Commander Valance and the forced ease of Captain Rourke, and she had to wonder if ‘behaving’ was anywhere near Endeavour’s priorities on this mission.

* *

Despite growing up with every access to Federation comforts and technologies, Nate Beckett still held his breath every time he used the transporter, and it always paid off when he felt the faint drop upon materialisation. He’d never been transported anything other than a half-inch off the ground, just to make sure he didn’t get fused with dirt or a deck plating, but he suspected that some day he’d annoy a transporter chief enough to be pitched off a cliff, and on that day, he’d be grateful for a lungful of air. For screaming.

But he had not been sent to his death today, which was just as well because he’d beamed down with Doctor T’Sann and Captain Rourke. They materialised above a sea of green and blue, rolling slopes of the surface of Arcidava stretching down before them, dotted with the pinks and reds of blossom trees and the browns and greys of settlements below built of local wood and stone. The rustic construction spoke of the age of the buildings, but still he could see flashes of metal or lights here and there, technology integrated to keep life easy even as the people of Arcidava plainly enjoyed quiet comfort amid a peaceful, tamed sort of nature.

Beckett had been warned they were not beaming directly to their destination, but he didn’t expect to turn and see a sharp climb of stone steps winding upward to a building at the distant top of what had been described to him rather stingily as a hill. ‘Oh, what?’

‘The monastery is a site precious to the Romulan people, and home to who knows what valuables,’ said T’Sann. ‘So the Fae Diwan have transporter inhibitors permanently installed.’

‘I was expecting… I don’t know. A road. A speeder. A lift.’

Rourke gave him a suspicious look. ‘You said you knew the Arcidava monastery.’

‘Of,’ said Beckett, not that he’d used that word when briefed. ‘It’s not like the Romulans have fallen over themselves to share research. But I thought it’d be a bit more like Regator, which is meant to have one of the most sophisticated quantum archives in the quadrant…’

‘Regator is in Free State territory,’ said T’Sann, turning for the steps to begin their ascent. ‘Nobody would let us in there.’

Beckett followed after him and Rourke, lips a thin line. ‘So is this monastery actually a worthwhile archive, or is it just one we can get to?’

‘If they have records on the Tkon we don’t,’ said Rourke, ‘I don’t care if it’s a backwater dive bar.’

‘It’s certainly not a backwater dive bar,’ said T’Sann. ‘Have a little enthusiasm, Ensign. Looks can be deceiving. This was one of the first off-world monasteries established in the Romulan Empire that-was, specifically for scholarship away from political interference and oversight. So, yes, Regator exceeded it in profile and fame, because Regator received the lion’s share of government funding. Arcidava has always been off the beaten track, but that rather suits us today, doesn’t it?’

‘Come on, Nate,’ said Rourke with a brighter tone than Beckett thought the situation warranted. ‘Does us good to get out and have some fresh air.’

Beckett gave his captain’s back a dubious look, but followed. At any other time he would have been delighted by this prospect; by being one of the, if not the, first human scholars to be received at the Arcidava monastery. But his skin itched; had itched since Rourke had made him Acting Chief Science Officer, had itched since he’d given the news to the far-too level gaze of Lieutenant Veldman. As the A&A Officer of Endeavour he was the right choice to be here. As the newly-elevated department head, he was an impostor.

‘I guess,’ he huffed as he ascended the steps after them, ‘it’s not the Vulcan monastery at Pojatan, at the top of six discreet rises, each taking a day to hike, with meditation at each waystation each night. This is just… steps…’

These ‘just steps’ took the better part of two hours to climb, and they had started more than halfway up from the nearest settlement nestled below. T’Sann didn’t tire, and neither did Rourke seem to, but Beckett grabbed himself a hardy stick abandoned beside a blossom tree and huffed through the last thirty minutes. By then each step felt like it was bringing him no closer to the grey stone curves of the monastery above, and his only relief was the sweet-scented soft breeze.

T’Sann all but sprang up the final steps to the wide, paved platform leading to a rounded door of wood so dark it was nearly black, flanked by circular windows of stained glass, the first flash of colour and decoration Beckett had seen. He knew the Arcidava monastery had been built small at first, a shelter for the Fae Diwan to whisk their secrets away from Romulus, but everything he’d read suggested an expansion over the centuries he couldn’t see.

Before he could ask of that, T’Sann had crossed the courtyard to bring the brass knocker on the door crashing onto wood. So Beckett let himself bend double to get his breath back, and hoped he’d have long enough to put himself together to make a better first impression for the monks.

By the time his heart rate had slowed, there was still no answer. Beckett straightened. ‘Maybe nobody’s home.’

Rourke gave him a curt look, before turning to T’Sann. ‘They’re reclusive, and we’re interlopers.’

T’Sann lifted a hand. ‘I didn’t bring you here for nothing. Patience, Captain.’

A minute later, the door swung open. Beckett had read of Romulan monastic orders, and those of a hundred other cultures beyond. That a member of a group formed to guard the spirituality of a people might be armed was surprisingly normal. What Beckett hadn’t expected was the elderly, robed Romulan to be touting a sophisticated disruptor rifle.

His wrinkled face twisted at the sight of them. ‘It is Starfleet, then,’ he grunted, and shouldered the rifle. ‘Can’t be too sure with guests.’

T’Sann brought his hands together and opened his mouth, but Rourke stepped in first. ‘I’m Captain Rourke of the Federation starship Endeavour. I need help, and Doctor T’Sann here says you can help.’

The monk looked him up and down. ‘The Fae Diwan can do many things, as we told Doctor T’Sann when he called. Whether we will has yet to be seen.’ But he jerked his head inside. ‘You climbed, so you get water. Let’s see what weight you can give your words in that time.’

They stepped into cool shadow, and Beckett had to suppress a shiver as his sweat chilled on his neck. The entrance hall was a rounded chamber, a burning brazier at the centre surrounded by hanging shards of coloured glass that painted the firelight in hues of emerald. An archway beyond led to a stone passageway that faded soon to shadow, but it was to a curved cabinet against one wall that the monk went. For a moment there was no sound but their breathing, the crackling of flames, and the sound of pouring liquid.

T’Sann advanced on the brazier, and gestured to the hanging shards. ‘All truths are coloured by the time we perceive them. By others or ourselves,’ he said, ostensibly to Rourke and Beckett, but Beckett fancied he spoke loud enough that the monk was supposed to hear.

Beckett shrugged. ‘Could just be there to be pretty.’

The monk gave a wheezing chuckle as he returned with a tray bearing three beakers. ‘Your boy’s wise or stupid, I’m not sure yet.’

Rourke glanced between his companions before he took one. ‘So we have until we finish these before you decide if you’ll help us or turf us back out?’

The monk cocked his head. ‘Why would I give myself a time limit on an important decision like that?’ He shrugged. ‘Call me Qorik. You want our help?’

It was T’Sann’s turn to dive in before Rourke could. ‘We come on a mission of great importance,’ the doctor said, ‘Seeking knowledge on the Tkon Empire.’

Qorik grunted. ‘Why can we help with that?’

Rourke hesitated. ‘I was told you’re keepers of secrets and truths. Scholars and historians.’

‘That’s a thing people say, yes.’

Beckett slugged back the water. ‘Would you please help us with that?’

Qorik’s eyes fell on him, before returning to Rourke. ‘Your boy’s polite, too.’ He advanced on Beckett, and plucked the beaker out of his hand. ‘No more words from you for now.’

Rourke gave Beckett a brief glare, before turning to the monk. ‘I get that you might deal in secrets and evasion, and I’ll do you whatever courtesies you want, and I definitely don’t come here to do you any disrespect. But this a serious matter. I’m empowered to furnish you with whatever records you want from our own historical archives if you have new data on the Tkon and can share it.’

‘Hm.’ Qorik looked at Rourke, then nodded at the beaker. ‘Drink up.’ When Rourke did, he took the beaker from him, and turned away. ‘That’s enough of your words, too.’

T’Sann raised an eyebrow as Qorik turned to him last. ‘I met with some of your colleagues six years ago, Tradell and Ionrae? They said they would vouch for me when I called ahead.’

‘They did confirm you’re a scholar,’ Qorik allowed. ‘Why should I care if the Daystrom Institute put letters after your name?’

T’Sann hesitated. ‘I think you did your reading ahead of time. I think you already know more about me than you can learn from a few quick questions.’ With the hint of a smirk, he drained his beaker and passed it to Qorik, and said no more.

Qorik grunted. ‘A lot of fuss and bother, a scholar of the Daystrom Institute securing passage so a Starfleet captain can come all this way. We’ve not had one of your uniform here before, Rourke. And still, boldly going as you are, all you want is another step, more unknowns, more answers.’ He cocked his head as he regarded the captain. ‘Seems like what you’re after here is the sort of thing for which you’d give anything?’ Beckett watched as Rourke’s lips twisted, then the burly captain gave a sharp nod. Qorik huffed to himself, before his eyes fell on T’Sann. ‘And you, Doctor? Anything?’

T’Sann nodded, too. ‘I told the captain he’d find answers here. I hate being wrong.’

Qorik said nothing to that, his dark eyes instead dragging over to Beckett. ‘What about you, boy? What would you give?’

‘Well, I – actually, it’s “Ensign Beckett,” or Nate if you’d prefer,’ he replied awkwardly. ‘And I, uh, no, I’m not in the “everything” kind of market. What do you want?’

Qorik stared at him for a moment. Then he laughed, and tossed his tray to the side, the beakers clattering. ‘The measure of you all, really,’ he said, even as Beckett jumped at the sound. ‘Here you come, Starfleet, in all your pomp and circumstance, your captain so focused on his goal his eyes are clouded, your guide so intent on impressing me he’s had little thought of his own. And you, seeing clearly where you should, asking questions where you need to.’ He jerked a thumb at the hanging shards of glass. ‘They are a metaphor, your guide was right. But can’t they be pretty, too?’

He turned away and headed for the archway into shadows, and the three exchanged confused glances before Qorik called out again, voice echoing through the chamber. ‘Coming, Captain? An exchange of archives is more than fair. Let’s see how we can help each other.’

‘This is so thoroughly irregular,’ Thawn grumbled as she and Lindgren walked the corridor to the transporter room.

‘I think the Chief Science Officer asking for our assistance is perfectly reasonable,’ Lindgren chided. ‘The archives are apparently quite extensive, and we’re command-level officers good at sifting through data in a crisis where information is being restricted. It’s not like he has a whole archaeology section in the science department – he is the archaeology section.’

‘Alright, let me change that: this is ridiculous. Beckett as Chief Science Officer is ridiculous. What’s the captain thinking?’

‘Maybe you should ask him.’ But Lindgren sighed, frustrated. ‘If it’s our mission to pursue information on the Tkon Empire, it makes sense. Lieutenant Veldman is very good, but she’s a biochemist; she’d only be deferring to Nate anyway.’

‘He’s only here, and only in this job, because he’s the admiral’s son…’

‘I really hope this is you getting this out of your system before we beam down,’ Lindgren muttered to themselves as they entered the transporter room.

Thawn either didn’t hear her or just pretended, eyes falling on Chief Zharek at the controls. ‘Do we have a good signal down there, Chief?’

‘Pattern enhancers have given us a site on the surface within the dispersal field,’ the transporter chief confirmed. ‘Should be able to put you down just outside the monastery this time.’

‘Well, I’m delighted by not having a two hour hike just to get there,’ said Lindgren cheerfully. ‘Shall we?’

Thawn had at least stopped grumbling when they stepped onto the transporter pad, and a moment later the shining lights consumed them. From Lindgren’s perspective it was as if their surroundings transformed in an instant from the grey metals of Endeavour to the gathering dusk of a tumbling alien hillside, the faintest chill of evening air sneaking past her uniform, and to her eyes, it was a bargain.

‘Lieutenants!’ They turned to the curves of the monastery to find Nate Beckett in the doorway, uniform collar loose, sleeves rolled up, clapping his hands together as he beamed. ‘Right on time. Welcome to the Arcidava monastery. Don’t worry, the monks won’t quiz you, too, we’ve come to an agreement.’

Thawn quirked an eyebrow at the humble building. ‘How can there be so much information here that you need our help? Surely only a fraction here is on the Tkon.’

‘I could carry an entire library on the history of the Federation in my pocket,’ Beckett pointed out, ‘but okay, sure, sniff at our hosts because this isn’t the Library of Etrixx. Which, by the way, is a dump.’

Thawn looked like Beckett had just shot her pet. ‘Etrixx is an archive of the finest -’

He rolled his eyes. ‘It was an archive of the finest records on Betazoid history, but since you joined the Federation and shared it all, its expansion has consisted solely of accepting texts from members of the noble households, and solely in leather-bound hard copy hardly anybody bothers to make any more. So the whole institution is just a weird exercise in gatekeeping and classism.’

‘Okay, how about that archive hitherto-unseen by Federation eyes?’ Lindgren said loudly.

Beckett’s gaze brightened. ‘Right! This way.’

At a first glance, Lindgren might have been inclined to reach the same conclusions as Thawn: even with digitisation, she was not convinced that a building that housed as many monks as she thought lived here could possibly have archives big enough to serve their needs. Unlike Thawn, though, she kept her mouth shut and waited for the catch as Beckett led them into the entrance chamber and through to the dark passageway beyond, their footsteps ringing out on cold stone.

‘Are we going to be working alongside the monks, and is there any particular way we should behave?’ Lindgren asked quietly as she followed.

‘I think they’re just having their tea, actually,’ Beckett admitted. ‘Qorik’s the one who’s been helping us out, and they’re not weirdo essentialists with their philosophy, they’re just people. Got a pretty low bullshit tolerance, but that’s it.’

‘So, be polite and honest?’

‘They’re still a Romulan order who prize finding the truth in secrets. I don’t think they need you to be honest. But maybe don’t be embarrassingly transparent. Here.’ Beckett stopped, and Lindgren realised that in the gloom she’d missed the metal wall panel spanning floor to ceiling.

Thawn’s shoulders sank. ‘They’ve got a sophisticated underground complex, don’t they.’

‘Shockingly, the reclusive monks who maintain a dispersal field so nobody can use transporters to access or escape their monastery do, indeed, have a technologically sophisticated underground complex.’ Beckett waved a hand down the corridor. ‘This is just the living space for everyday things.’ A spot on the wall lit up at his touch, buttons only then brought to life, and the panel slid aside to let them into a small, bright, modern lift.

Inside was climate-controlled, the ride down quiet and smooth with only the faintest whir of energy, and it was enough to make Lindgren feel like time on the surface with a startling view of a night-clad landscape had been but a dream. When the doors opened to let them into a vast, gloomy underground metal chamber in which the greatest sources of illumination were the lights of control panels on the end of each stack of storage shelving, the monastery seemed even further away.

‘Our access is limited to this end, the reading section,’ Beckett said as he walked out and approached the pool table control panel before the lift, at the head of the stacks. ‘The monks have brought their sections on the Tkon over here if we need to check anything hard copy and, well, the rest we can access from here. Plan is to see if anything sticks out, or if there are any references to Horizon. We can connect up with Endeavour’s computer from here, but they’d rather we’re doing this under their roof.’

‘I thought we’d negotiated an information exchange to take all they have?’ said Lindgren.

‘This is vast,’ said Thawn, seeming rather cowed by the view. ‘If even half a percent of this is on the Tkon, no wonder they don’t want us taking everything.’

Beckett nodded. ‘It’ll carry a price. Captain Rourke says he can pay, but he’d rather we know for sure we’ve got something worthwhile – or if we only need a section. Also, if we find something while we’re here, we’ve got experts who’ve studied these archives to hand.’

Lindgren watched as Beckett reached for the reading table and tapped a few commands, multiple archival records springing up before him in holographic screens. ‘Horizon. Right.’

‘And,’ Thawn said awkwardly, ‘any references to Tkon technology that might interface with subspace.’ At the looks, she shrugged. ‘We can’t be briefed on this crisis that Tkon technology either caused or might resolve, but it’s been impossible not to extrapolate a little.’

Beckett’s eyebrows were raised, impressed despite himself. ‘Right. First wave is just us, because as command staff we have the most context. At best, we find what we want. At worst, we carve this up for teams, so they can go through it quicker and the captain wants to compartmentalise information if possible.’

‘Researching a crisis,’ Lindgren sighed, ‘and we’re not allowed to know what it is.’

‘Yeah, I’m not thrilled. But nothing about this is normal.’

‘Like your job?’ said Thawn rather tartly, even as she’d approached one of the control points to begin.

Beckett grimaced. ‘Yeah. Like that. So in my abnormal authority: I had a quick overview and think here’s where we should start…’

In the grand scheme of the centuries-old archives of a monastic order dedicated to discovery, the Fae Diwan did not have a huge amount of information on the Tkon. Especially not, as Thawn connected their systems with Endeavour’s, information that the Federation did not already have. Lindgren found herself soon enough consulting the monks’ own notes and records on the various Tkon languages to expand Starfleet linguistic databanks, the true worth of which she didn’t expect to see herself but could shed new light on findings the Federation had made decades ago.

Thawn had been at a comparison of the monks’ original Tkon files with Starfleet’s for an hour before she finally glanced around the archive and frowned at Beckett. ‘Is Doctor T’Sann not going to join us?’

‘T’Sann? Oh, he’s doing some of his own research. He negotiated some sort of access on behalf of the Daystrom Institute.’

Thawn’s eyebrows raised. ‘But not here?’ At Beckett’s hesitation, she straightened. ‘Is he not looking into the Tkon?’

Lindgren tried to sink smaller and focus on her work as Beckett shifted his weight. ‘I’m not privy,’ he said, ‘to the doctor’s agreement with the Fae Diwan.’

‘So we rescue him,’ said Thawn testily, ‘before giving him access to our archaeology labs for his work, and when we ask for his assistance he more or less uses the Federation’s political weight to get himself access to a precious and reclusive archive?’

‘Hey!’ Beckett did sound a little whiny in his protest. ‘Doctor T’Sann’s a brilliant archaeologist and a great scholar; if he has something important to get on with here, and the captain hasn’t called him out, I’m not doing it.’

Lindgren gave a gentle snort despite herself. ‘Someone’s a little star-struck.’

Thawn looked less convinced. ‘I don’t think fame is what’s turned our Chief Science Officer’s head.’

‘Acting,’ muttered Beckett, but Lindgren could see his faint blush. ‘Anyway, I don’t – hello…’

The computer chirrup was from Thawn’s work point, and the Ops Officer focused up with a frown. ‘That’s a discrepancy between a file in our records and one in here,’ she said, reaching to expand the holographic screen as the others approached. ‘These are original Tkon files, not scans or analysis, so I’ve been looking for if the monks have anything we don’t. This is just a different version of the same file; it might be nothing…’ Before them popped up two images of Tkon star charts that looked identical at a glance, the monks’ and Starfleet’s.

Lindgren sighed. ‘I don’t recognise that region.’

‘Based on the distance between stars it like about a sector, though it could be a dense cluster?’ Thawn tilted her head. ‘I’m looking for the difference…’

‘Oh,’ said Beckett. ‘This is the Moreau Cluster, that’s where we think Horizon was taken from.’ He pointed to a blank spot between the stars on both maps. ‘That’s where we’re pretty sure there was once an O-type.’

‘There.’ Thawn gestured to a point on either map; on Endeavour’s version, there was a star, but that location on the monks’ file was blank. ‘This is the same star chart record, but the monks’ one is more recent. Am I understanding this correctly? Is there another star that was moved out of the Moreau Cluster, some time after Horizon was?’

‘Somewhere,’ murmured Beckett, ‘an astrophysicist is screaming.’

Lindgren looked at the screen showing the monks’ file archive. ‘They have a collection of these charts; there are five more files – each of different regions, each maybe a decade older than the one before? Labelled… how have the monks translated this from the Tkon…’ She tilted her head. ‘Fruitful Wanderer. Sorry, that’s the first translation off the top of my head from Romulan.’

Beckett squinted. ‘We’ll workshop it.’

Thawn had brought up the different star charts, her head tilted. ‘According to the file we already had, it’s a K-type once in that location. Comparing these additional – later – charts with Endeavour’s modern stellar records, they’re each showing a K-type that isn’t there now.’

He leaned in. ‘Are these charts recording the moving of a star? Did they have to move it cluster to cluster?’

‘We don’t know enough about how or why the Tkon moved stars to be sure why they moved… Fruitful Wanderer… in stages.’

‘Where is it now?’ asked Lindgren.

‘I don’t know,’ sighed Thawn. ‘It has a location on the most recent of the Tkon charts, but it’s not on our astrometric records. Are these incomplete?’ She rounded on Beckett like this was his fault.

‘I don’t… let’s ask, shall we, before assuming someone’s double-crossing us or I couldn’t split up an archive for study competently, hm?’ He rallied after a moment, and reached for a comm panel on the reading desk. ‘Qorik, can we – could you please come down here? We have a question about your records.’

‘Very polite,’ said Lindgren with gentle amusement.

‘He seems to like it,’ came Beckett’s flustered reply.

Thawn had turned away, back to the interface. ‘I wonder if I can find this star…’

‘A K-type lost somewhere in the galaxy? Oh, sure, that’ll be dead easy to spot, those aren’t at all common,’ he said wryly.

Mercifully, Qorik was quick to arrive, the lift doors sliding open for him to join them before the reading table. ‘Is there a problem with the archives?’ he asked, sounding more like he’d been inconvenienced than he wanted to help.

Beckett spun on his heel. ‘We’ve come across some star chart records – you’ve listed them as a collection titled, uh, Fruitful -’

‘Tui Havran,’ Lindgren cut in quickly. This conversation did not need to be made more complicated by her rough translations.

At once Qorik looked pained. ‘That collection. Of course you’re interested in that collection.’

Beckett nodded, seeming oblivious to the monk’s discomfort. ‘You’ve seen how there was a star in the initial cluster it looks like the Tkon moved? We’re also very interested in a star that originated -’

Thawn literally stomped on his foot as she moved before Qorik. ‘What’s the problem with the collection? It looks incomplete.’

Qorik’s eyes drifted between them, then he shrugged. ‘Because it is. It’s also one of the newer pieces in our Tkon archives. It was found on a ship crashed in the former Neutral Zone, left untouched by modern civilisations until we returned to the region. The whole database was extracted, and we entered an arrangement with the finder to buy it.’

‘The database was corrupted?’ said Thawn.

‘Not to our knowledge. The buyer set a price. We could only pay some of it up front; the rest we would have to procure from the government, which would take time – our acquisition of Tkon archives was nobody’s highest priority,’ Qorik grumbled. ‘Partial payment resulted in partial acquisition of the database. I expect Argus made sure he delivered a selection of incomplete file records, to make us hungrier for the complete set, instead of fewer but more complete collections.’

‘This finder, Argus; who is he?’ asked Lindgren.

‘And when was this?’ said Beckett, before wilting at Qorik’s look. ‘Please.’

Qorik sighed. ‘We bought these a year ago. Argus is a salvage trader operating in Republic and neutral space. I expect your Doctor T’Sann has heard of him. He has a small crew and a ship of reasonable quality, the Hyksos. If you intend to chase him down, I can provide you with comm records and the sensor readings from the system’s nav buoy.’

Lindgren gave a half-smile. ‘This is so we leave sooner, isn’t it.’

‘I’m eager for a fair trade of what knowledge of the Tkon we possess that you do not; in exchange we’d be partial to some of those historical records from new Federation members of the last forty years. But I do want my reading room back,’ Qorik admitted.

‘We can run this by the captain,’ said Thawn, looking at the others. ‘If he wants to hunt down this Argus, he’d have to do some digging, which would take a little time, and we can study more here, but it’s his decision, really?’

Lindgren drew a hesitant breath. ‘I expect he’d appreciate our recommendation. Especially yours, Nate.’

‘Oh, hell.’ Beckett sucked on his teeth. ‘Most of my Starfleet archaeological experience has been site-work lasting years and nothing was happening fast, or studying archives or relics from a desk. You don’t get high stakes in my line of  work!’

Thawn raised her eyebrows. ‘You do today, Chief Science Officer. Do we think this is somewhere we want to find? A possible twin of Horizon?’

‘It might have been moved for a billion reasons, and we still don’t understand the Tkon’s relocation of stars,’ Beckett protested. ‘The hows or the whys. They might have been moved epochs apart and to completely different corners of the galaxy. And we don’t even really know what we’re looking for!’

‘More knowledge on this exact topic, the relocation, is what we’re looking for,’ Lindgren reminded him gently.

‘And if you’re not sure what to say,’ said Thawn, rather more nastily, ‘you can always ask Lieutenant Veldman.’

That seemed to make his decision. He glowered at her a moment, then turned to Qorik. ‘Alright. Dig up that information on Argus and his ship, please. I’ll recommend to my captain we go after Tui Ha– Fruitful Wanderer -’

‘Ephrath,’ Lindgren blurted as linguistics and cultural touchstones finished bouncing through her mind to land on a code word she thought wouldn’t trip up Federation tongues or sound too much like a cocktail. They turned to her, and she nodded, pleased with herself. ‘Let’s call this star Ephrath.’

Carraway sipped his tea as he looked up at the CIC map. ‘It all looks very complicated.’

‘You’re trying to flatter me,’ said Dathan in a flat voice, not looking at him. ‘Suggesting that my work is unique and special, as if worrying about the emotional and mental stability of this crew isn’t a full-time preoccupation.’ Her work was unique and special, but that didn’t have much to do with the situation and he wasn’t supposed to know that, anyway.

‘Mine’s just psychology.’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I spent a lot of years training for my job. But you need a bit of everything, don’t you? You need to understand decision-making, politics, technological development…’

‘Not that I don’t welcome your company, Counsellor. But you’ve got that bounce about you like you want something.’ Now she looked at him, hand on her hip.

He smiled, actually seeming a little caught out. ‘I can’t stop by to keep you company?’

‘You can. Normally you’d bother me until I agreed to have tea with you later, though.’ Dathan wasn’t sure what had possessed her to have regular, personal chats with Endeavour’s counsellor. But after initially assuming him very soft, she’d realised and accepted that Greg Carraway was very good at getting people to do what he wanted, and deflecting him was more bother than she needed. Or so she told herself.

‘You’ve been busy in here. That’s not unusual and it’s something I know you can handle. But your support network aboard’s taken a hit with Lieutenant Rhade in the brig. So I’m stepping up being sociable.’

This was all said with a sincerity she found more disarming than she liked. ‘I’m hardly bereft because Lieutenant Rhade has made poor choices.’

Carraway tilted his head. ‘He’s one of your closest friends aboard. And comments like that suggest you’re just a little bit angry with him about it.’

‘Angry that he’s my closest acquaintance, or angry that he got himself thrown in the brig?’

‘Both?’

Dathan sighed and turned to him. ‘How’s Thawn?’

‘Oh, my knowledge of Lieutenant Thawn’s wellbeing comes firmly under the category of “not gossip.” Sorry. I’m also a great multi-tasker and really hard to deflect.’

She tried to not roll her eyes. ‘Look, Greg, you’re welcome to have tea and to keep me company down here while I work; Prophets know this gets long and boring. But I’m reserving judgements about this total mess until it’s over and I know more. If you want to help, keep me company, don’t poke me.’

‘I did, and you accused me of buttering you up, then you challenged why I was even here.’ Carraway shrugged. ‘If you want me to go, then I’ll go; I don’t always have an ulterior motive.’

Nobody had mentioned in her briefing material that Starfleet counsellors were so damn annoying. Dathan again sighed. ‘No, stay. You know much about Romulan game theory?’

‘Actually, I did read a really interesting article a year or so back discussing the impact of trauma on the Romulan political psyche…’

The door slid open to admit Rourke and Valance, earlier than Dathan had expected them. Rourke looked to Carraway as he approached the central CIC control panels. ‘Could you excuse us, Counsellor?’

‘Oh, sure.’ Dathan noticed the flicker in Carraway’s gaze, but his smile was intact as he stood and took himself out with his tea.

She rubbed the back of her neck. ‘The Hyksos?’

‘You said you had something,’ said Rourke. Valance stayed half a step behind him, arms folded across her chest.

Dathan glanced between them, then turned her focus to work. ‘She’s a privately owned freighter, properly licensed under Federation and Republic law at the very least. Formally owned by Argus, a Tellarite, but he’s got six permanent crew listed on his registration and it looks like he keeps about as many temporary workers. Strictly speaking, he doesn’t have the Federation licenses for the sort of salvage work that would have got him the Ephrath collection, which I suspect is why he sold it to the Fae Diwan.’

A pinch on the projected map zoomed it in on a section of the old Neutral Zone, close to the Romulan Star Empire border. ‘The Hyksos might skirt the boundaries of trade laws on cultural artifacts, but they seem to know that if you want to operate across these borders, it’s best to play by the rules as much as you can. They put in flight routes when they depart Federation space, and seem to stick to them. And they set off from the Federation Outpost Qiris-Gamma-5 a week ago.’

Rourke nodded approvingly. ‘Where are they headed?’

‘That’s the stickier part,’ Dathan warned. ‘They’re heading for Jhorkesh.’ The system lit up on her map. ‘Independent world on the front door to the Romulan Star Empire. Sprang up as a smuggler’s den after the collapse of the Neutral Zone because the ionisation in the atmosphere at least partially interferes with sensors and transporters, but it grew quickly. As you can imagine, the Empire doesn’t let such a hive operate completely freely. Jhorkesh is a major trade hub and the best place to go if you want to find something you can’t get in the Empire. It’s nominally run by the warlord Dece, but consensus is that Dece’s deep in Imperial pockets.’

Rourke scratched his beard. ‘Keep the black market where you can see it and as friendly as possible, so you can better control something that’s going to exist anyway,’ he mused.

But Valance was frowning. ‘I take it approaching in a Manticore will once again be a bit too provocative?’

‘Endeavour would be a hammer to this situation,’ Dathan agreed, trying to stay neutral considering her captain’s recent moods. ‘If we don’t want the local forces scrambling – and the Empire possibly taking our arrival as an invitation to get involved – I would take the runabout.’

‘Is there a reason we shouldn’t wait beyond the system to intercept them?’ said Valance.

‘I don’t know their flight route after Jhorkesh, but the Hyksos does do business inside the Empire. If they arrive before we do, and we try to intercept them crossing the border to the Empire, that risks us being too late, or it risks us again inviting an Imperial response.’ Dathan shrugged.

‘I’ll take a team on the King Arthur to Jhorkesh,’ Rourke rumbled, expression by now sunk into a thoughtful scowl.

Valance’s gaze upon him was one of exhausted annoyance. ‘Captain, does this situation necessitate that sort of risk?’ It was a rather polite way, Dathan thought, of challenging his decision, and she suspected it would not have been so courteous without a subordinate present. For her part, Dathan was prepared to enjoy the show.

‘I’ll have the Hazard Team with me, considering we might need to force the hand of Captain Argus and his crew to cooperate,’ Rourke said as if this answered her question. ‘And I’ll bring Nate to verify anything Argus hands over – and to assess its worth for a fair price.’

‘So it’ll be you, the Hazard Team, and Ensigns Arys and Beckett.’ Valance folded her arms across her chest. ‘That is a distinct lack of experience in landing on a volatile neutral world about which we know very little.’

‘If the Empire take umbrage to our presence, I want Juarez at Tactical,’ said Rourke. ‘That’s why we have a Hazard Team, to keep the senior staff on the bridge.’

‘You’re taking two of the senior staff,’ Valance pointed out. ‘One of them is you.’

‘I’ve been briefed on the stakes and the situation, Commander. You haven’t.’ Rourke straightened, squaring his shoulders, and it was different, Dathan noticed, to his usual body language. The captain was a large man but inclined on occasion to slouch, to carry himself to emphasise weight rather than strength, which she’d assumed an affectation for an officer she’d noticed kept being underestimated as a weapon in his arsenal. She’d seen him shed it when he wanted to be taken seriously, but rarely to loom in physical intimidation, and never before against one of his own officers.

While Dathan tensed at the shift, Valance did not, chin tilting up. ‘It would be remiss of me,’ she said, ‘as your first officer, to not object -’

‘I do not need more objections from my senior staff, Commander! The decision is made!’

And for a big man, Rourke didn’t tend to shout. Again, not to his own, not that Dathan had seen, and the sudden shift made her, against all her better judgements, flinch. After so long under Starfleet niceties, she had lost some of her masks, some of her practice in not shying away from what her instincts told her was overtly threatening behaviour from superiors.

It was not, she thought as she tried to steel her expression and slow her heart rate, that Captain Rourke was physically threatening Commander Valance. But it was, for Lieutenant Dathan at least, certainly a reminder she had almost forgotten of the fury and viciousness those eyes and hands could hold.

Valance remained cold, but she did not remain combative, letting out a slow breath. After a heartbeat, she nodded. ‘I’ll get us underway,’ she said, voice low. ‘Jhorkesh.’

‘Good.’ Rourke watched her leave, and when he turned to Dathan it was an effort to not take a step back, even though the moment had passed. ‘I want you to officially request, on my behalf, as much on Imperial ship movements in the region as Starfleet Intelligence has. We’re not getting caught out again.’

Dathan swallowed. ‘At once, sir.’

He did hesitate at that, at the crisp subservience she’d accidentally let slip into her voice, but seemed to think better of asking, and instead left. Leaving Dathan Tahla alone in the CIC, reminded of what she’d left behind and what she served, and with a much more bitter tang in her mouth than she’d expected of her first taste of home in long months.

* *

As the King Arthur descended through the atmosphere of Jhorkesh, ably piloted by Ensign Harkon, Arys took Beckett aside in the back room. ‘You understand your responsibility here, right?’ said the young Andorian.

Beckett raised his eyebrows. ‘Assess the value of the data. Look good. Not necessarily in that order.’

The too-serious Arys scowled. ‘You are, against my recommendation, the only person going with the captain. Your priority is his safety.’

Beckett threw a glance at the cockpit, at the burly and confident frame of Captain Rourke. ‘Are you kidding me? If we run into something he can’t handle, what’s my role? Distracting the enemy with my pitiful screaming?’

‘You’re a Starfleet officer and -’

‘I’m an anthropologist. My survival skills are limited to running away and writing very cutting observations in my field journal. You tell the captain I’m his bodyguard and he’ll put you on stage as a comedian.’

Arys set his hands on his hips. ‘I’m still holding you responsible for his wellbeing.’

‘You’re gonna find out, pal, that when it comes to people holding me responsible for stuff, I am a galactic pro at disappointing them.’

‘I don’t -’

‘Unclench. It’ll be what it’ll be down there. Worry more about yourself, Kid Starfleet, and the six veterans you’re expected to order around like you know what you’re doing. Or, is that why you’re getting on my case about my job?’ Beckett tilted his head with a smirk he knew would be infuriating, and as Arys scrabbled for a retort he ended the conversation by giving him a cheerful clap on the shoulder and leaving for the cockpit.

Twenty minutes later they had landed on Jhorkesh, and Beckett and Rourke were stepping out of the spaceport into a sea of life and colour. Bright coloured lights bled into another across the street flanked by buildings so built up and leaning so close together it was more like a tunnel of metal and neon and crowds than an open city, and Beckett was at once delighted by the sight. ‘Finally,’ he said, hands on his hips. ‘Somewhere that’s not depressing.’

Rourke’s gaze was more cautious as he surveyed the crowded roads of shops and markets and bustling business clad in bright light and sharp shadow of nightfall. ‘Places like this are smiles and life on the surface, Nate, with sheathed daggers under tables. Don’t be fooled.’ He tapped his combadge, nestled under the jacket of civilian clothing he’d suggested they wear to move about Jhorkesh’s streets, and dropped his voice. ‘Rourke to Arys. We got through landing processing easy, and I sweet-talked a heading out of one of the administrators. The Hyksos is docked here, but the crew berth at a place called the Foundation for rooms and R&R. We’re going to check it out.’

‘Understood, sir. We’ll keep in direct contact with Endeavour, and we’re ready to move out at a moment’s notice.’

‘If we really run into trouble,’ mused Beckett as they headed down the street, and he let Rourke’s bigger bulk clear him a path through the crowds, ‘the Hazard Team aren’t going to have an easy time rushing through this to back us up.’ The two of them were incognito, but the seven members of the Hazard Team were fully armed and equipped and ready for trouble.

‘I think they’ll manage to clear the streets if it gets really bad. Let’s not let it get really bad.’ Rourke glanced back to find him distracted by a food stand, the sizzling scents of meats Beckett had never smelled before as they were seared on a wide pan directly in front of customers seated at the bar drawing his nose before his eye. Rourke grabbed his sleeve. ‘And maybe don’t eat here.’

‘I wasn’t – I just didn’t know what it was.’

‘Something your digestion won’t like,’ Rourke grumbled. ‘This territory is Romulans and anyone who came slithering into the Neutral Zone from borders, the Triangle, the Borderlands.’ A gap in the crowd before them flashed with light, holographic adverts bursting forth to appeal them down the next side road for all its pleasures and temptations. Rourke surged through that, too, swatting the projections away as they shimmered over him. ‘And, I guess, Romulan tourists skipping the border for diversions they can’t find in the Empire.’

‘It’s a trade hub and a tourist trap, sir; do we need to be this paranoid? I’m not saying I want to go hit the nearest smoking bar, but -’

‘When this is over, take shore leave and go do a tour of the dives of the Neutral Zone,’ Rourke snapped over his shoulder. ‘We’ll see what state you’re in if you make it back.’

Beckett didn’t answer that, cowed, and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets as he followed in Rourke’s wake. The captain had figured out their heading, and while Rourke hadn’t been to Jhorkesh before, he clearly knew how to walk these sorts of streets, move past stalls and hawkers and exude the kind of aura that meant nobody bothered him too badly. Beckett suspected that if he’d been on his own, he’d have been whisked to some underground speakeasy by now, his internal organs in no small danger from harvesters or just whatever he was encouraged to consume.

The main hub of Jhorkesh was not as big as it seemed, a network of streets offering recreation for those fresh out of the spaceport. From the briefing paper, Beckett knew the layer further out was quieter bars and lodgings that often doubled as meeting places for traders and businessmen, with a stretch of warehouses beyond that to store goods, especially whatever elusive products nobody wanted to keep over the nearby Imperial border.

So he waited until they were in slightly less-rammed streets, able to walk alongside Rourke, before he spoke up again. ‘I’ve got to ask, Captain: why did you even bring me aboard?’

Rourke glanced over at him. ‘Is now really the time, Nate?’

‘It’s not as if you’re free these days for me to drop by your ready room like it’s office hours back at the Academy.’

Rourke seemed to soften at that, huffing as he checked the routes ahead. ‘You say this like a research team on Starbase 514 wasn’t a total waste of your talents.’

‘Bottom-third percentile ranking in my Academy class suggests otherwise,’ Beckett said with the wry self-effacement he gave any of his under-achievements.

Rourke stopped, turning to face him with a scowl. ‘Nate. I thought we cut through this shit two years ago? I’d say you’re your worst enemy, except the admiral exists. You excel when you believe you can. You shy away from trying if you think it’s not worth it, and people keep telling you it’s not – you’re not – worth it. Sending you to Starbase 514 was another example of someone doing a piss-poor job of figuring out how you thrive.’

‘I guess mediocre grades will get mediocre assignments.’

‘Don’t act like you didn’t surge up in your final year,’ Rourke snapped, grumpy in his affirmation and validation. Beckett couldn’t blame him too much; it had been a while since they’d talked like this, but he knew the captain wasn’t telling him anything new. ‘That should have been recognised. I’ve not done you any wild favours, Nate. I’ve just given you a better opportunity, because when you get a chance, you step up.’

He turned away, heading back down the road at a pace that had Beckett scurrying to keep up, and the young ensign didn’t quite dare press the next question on his mind. If me being here is just an opportunity for my self-improvement, what the hell is me being acting senior staff?

A few more minutes’ march had them at the looming establishment that was the Foundation. Jhorkesh had only been occupied for fifteen years, first finding its place as a smugglers’ haven, and so most of the first buildings that weren’t desperate shelters had been hardy warehouses. As that expanded into infrastructure and civilian living, and the storage facilities themselves grew and expanded, transformation had followed. So the Foundation was built into one of those original warehouses, the windows from which a kaleidoscopic array of coloured light glinted carved into walls after construction, but the building otherwise loomed with what Beckett thought was an unwelcoming air.

But it advertised suites of rooms for large groups, and those entering and exiting had the air of enough comfortable familiarity that he suspected it cashed in on reliability for its regulars rather than luring in newcomers. He followed Rourke inside and past the hologram-attended dingy lobby to the lodgers’ bar beyond, and made sure to give the PADD nestled inside his jacket a last-minute check of the names and faces of the permanent crew of the Hyksos they had on file.

It paid off almost immediately. The Foundation’s bar was not a bustling hive of activity, but a chance for quiet downtime for spacers and traders, somewhere they could group up and hold meetings in peace. The inner hub of Jhorkesh was the place for exuberant unwinding. So in the quiet gatherings and thin crowds, Beckett at once spotted familiar faces at a booth in the corner.

He nudged Rourke. ‘There. No sign of Argus, but that’s the Hyksos’s first mate and head deckhand.’

Rourke followed his gaze, and nodded. ‘Good eye,’ he said. ‘Let’s try honesty.’

The two crewmembers of the Hyksos were a Romulan and a Kriosian, steaming mugs of hot drinks before them, looking tired and speaking in low voices. But there was curiosity and caution in their eyes, rather than outright suspicion, as the two humans approached, and the Romulan leaned back. ‘Help you?’

‘Zhoran of the Hyksos?’ Rourke tugged his jacket back to give just a glint of his combadge. ‘Matt Rourke, Starfleet. We don’t want trouble, just a chat, and we can make it worth your time.’

The Romulan Zhoran shifted unhappily, but the Kriosian lifted a hand. ‘Starfleet won’t come here to make trouble,’ he told his shipmate, before gesturing to the officers. ‘Grab a seat, and make it quick or make it worthwhile.’

Rourke paused. ‘What we really want is a talk with your captain.’

Zhoran shrugged. ‘I’m the captain.’ At their looks, he raised his eyebrows. ‘I’d say you should fire your intel people, but I guess they have better things to care about than our ship. You’re after Argus? You’re about six months too late.’

Beckett’s heart sank. ‘He’s dead?’

‘Might as well be,’ said the Kriosian.

‘Might well be,’ said Zhoran. ‘After getting tossed in a Star Empire prison.’

* *

‘Commander.’

Valance had served with Lindgren long enough to know the subtleties of her voice, and to know when her courtesies disguised something serious. At once she was out of the command chair and across the bridge to her station. ‘What is it?’

‘I’ve been monitoring comm traffic inside the system to see if there’s any sign of the Hyksos’s location, just in case they’ve left Jhorkesh,’ said Lindgren. ‘But I picked up chatter discussing our arrival from ships of this warlord Dece. I don’t think they realised their encryption is child’s play.’

There was no smugness, only apprehension, and Valance frowned. ‘They want us gone?’

‘Not exactly. They’re keeping an eye on Endeavour to be sure we’re staying outside the system. But someone on the surface has recognised the captain and notified Dece, and, well, he sent this out to what looks like all of his own enforcers and, I think, any local freelancer who might be interested. Look.’

Lindgren popped up the transmission to her display, and Valance’s throat tightened. ‘Get me the away team. Hazard Team and the captain,’ she said. Lindgren nodded, at once reaching for the most secure comm transmissions they had, and sweeping to a different screen the intercepted Romulan Star Empire bounty notice for Captain Matthew Rourke.

‘Understood, Endeavour,’ said Arys, scowling at the comms panel in the King Arthur’s cockpit. ‘We’ll make ready to get underway.’

‘I’ve got all the information I need from Argus’s crew,’ came Rourke’s muffled voice. ‘It’s not ideal, but they’ve been as much help as I could hope. Heading back to you now, King Arthur.’

‘I’m still bringing Endeavour in,’ said Valance. ‘If local forces are mobilising after you, Captain, there’s no reason to speak softly.’

‘Agreed. Bring in the stick and we’ll meet you in orbit. Stay in touch, everyone.’

Arys stood as the comms went dead and looked to Harkon. ‘Get us permission to depart so we can set off the moment the captain and Beckett are back,’ he said brusquely. He left the cockpit without waiting on a reply, finding the six other members of the Hazard Team waiting for him in the aft briefing room.

‘Trouble?’ said Chief Kowalski.

Arys didn’t know if the gruff Master-at-Arms was mad at the captain for passing over his wife Lieutenant Veldman for promotion, or for putting Arys in charge of the Hazard Team, or if he was mad at Arys for being in that position. But it was very easy, especially while anxiety snaked through Arys’s chest, for it to feel like Kowalski was mad at him, mildness signalling disapproval.

He cleared his throat. ‘The Romulan Star Empire have apparently put a bounty on the captain’s head, and local forces are looking to collect. Endeavour’s coming in and the captain’s double-timing it back to us. Then we’re bailing.’

Chief T’Kalla scowled. ‘We’re not going out to meet them?’

‘The seven of us would draw a lot of attention. The captain says he’ll do better avoiding notice and getting back to us.’

Her scowl deepened. ‘And you didn’t tell him that’s horsesh-’

‘Very good, sir,’ Kowalski butted in. ‘We’re on standby.’

‘Arys!’ Harkon’s shout saved him from scrabbling to recover from Kowalski reasserting control where he couldn’t, and despite the tone of urgency, he turned back to the cockpit with a flash of relief. ‘Jhorkesh spaceport control are denying us departure authorisation, and I think they’re full of it.’

T’Kalla joined Arys at the cockpit door. ‘Can’t we just take off anyway?’

Harkon pointed out the cockpit canopy. The King Arthur had been set down in a narrow, single-vessel shuttlebay in the spaceport, a security forcefield gleaming at the main opening. ‘No can do while that’s up.’

Arys moved to the science console, running a quick scan of the nearby systems of the spaceport. ‘No big deal,’ he said with a sigh. ‘There’s an emergency override by the shuttlebay doors.’ The system was, he assumed, so ship owners could keep their vessels safe and secure and bring the forcefields down for a crisis evacuation, rather than designed to trap ships. ‘I’ll just go out and -’

There was a shift on the sensor scan of the spaceport systems. Arys scowled and brought up the video feed from their aft, and saw the shuttlebay doors slide open for a dozen armed Romulans in mismatched armour to flood in and take position with weapons facing the runabout.

Harkon looked at the feed and winced. ‘Get shot? Bad call, Tar’lek.’

Arys sighed again, and tapped his combadge. ‘King Arthur to away team. We have a problem.’

* *

Beckett watched Rourke scowl at the report, but the captain’s gruff voice betrayed no apprehension. ‘Understood, King Arthur. We’ll keep heading your way. Clear us a route to you, or do what you can to get underway. At worst, we’ll stay out of trouble until Endeavour’s here to try and beam us out.’ The ionisation in Jhorkesh’s atmosphere was significant enough they wouldn’t want to try the King Arthur’s equipment, but Endeavour’s more powerful systems in the hands of a proved expert like Lieutenant Thawn was a different issue.

And still Beckett wasn’t comforted. ‘Stay out of trouble? That’s not really our forte.’

They’d stepped into the shadow of an alleyway as Arys updated them. Now Rourke straightened and pulled up the collar of his jacket, which would only do so much to disguise his face. ‘Keep our heads down, stick with crowds, and nobody needs to know we’re here.’

‘Someone recognised us in the first place.’

Rourke put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Calm down. We’ve got this.’

‘Really? Because it sounds like the Romulan Star Empire wants you dead and I’m about to either get killed as collateral or be captured to get wielded against my father, and really, I’m not sure which is worse -’

‘Nate!’ The emphasis came with a quick shake. ‘Focus up. Follow my lead.’

The Foundation was far away enough from the spaceport that they had a lot of ground to cover, but Rourke was right, Beckett reflected as he followed him into the streets. If they stuck to crowds they were hard to identify. More than that, Rourke took them on a route avoiding the main road and following the busier secondary streets, where they moved in the midst of other spacers, locals, travellers, and nobody seemingly gave them a second look. In the jungle of neon lights and borderland indulgences, they were but another swarm of insects buzzing from leaf to leaf, too much part of the native fauna to be worthy of anyone’s attention.

‘Aw, hell,’ Beckett lamented as he ducked under a paper lantern projecting holographic lights dangling from a shop front. ‘A good, old-fashioned curio shop? God knows what they’ve picked up in a place like this.’

Rourke ignored him, knowing he was inclined to babble when merely nervous. When outright terrified he tended to clam up, which was why he said nothing more as they turned the corner to find a wide-open market square they’d passed through on the way up, a considerably smaller crowd, and the sight of a half-dozen armed and armoured figures surging forward on the far side of the pavilion.

‘Bugger,’ hissed Rourke, ducking for the nearest cover, but all he could find was a shining vertical holographic advert that couldn’t hide him entirely. There was a distant shout, and he waved a hand back the way they came. ‘Go!’

Beckett turned back, only to hear urgent voices further down that way, too. ‘Uh, sir…?’

‘You get your wish,’ grumbled Rourke, pushing past him into the side-street. ‘Let’s see that curio shop.’

It had a small and unassuming front, and Beckett had only noticed it for the modest holographic adverts out of its paper lanterns and the sight of a Tellarite horkeen in the window which suggested it wasn’t a complete con of an establishment. Rourke barrelled through the open door into the gloomy shop, crowded more with shelves and wares than customers, and knocked over a display of datachips of what looked like a variety of texts from a whole host of cultures.

‘Is there a back door?’ Rourke barked at the shopkeeper. Behind him, Beckett clumsily tried to right the display, mumbling apologies.

While surprised at their sudden arrival, the Orion woman behind the counter quickly looked disinterested, and shook her head. ‘Does it look like it?’

Rourke swore. ‘Roof access?’ She pointed at a door to the rear of the shop with a glare, and he raced on.

Beckett lifted placating hands to the woman as they passed. ‘I really,’ he said desperately, ‘really like your collection of Ferengi plaques. That’s nice.’

‘Nate!’ Rourke stood at the open door, the stairway up beyond. As Beckett bolted to join him, he tapped his combadge. ‘Rourke to King Arthur and Endeavour. We’re in trouble.’

* *

‘We’re still fifteen minutes out, Captain,’ came Valance’s grim report, and Arys gritted his teeth.

‘Then we’ll come get you, sir. We have your combadge location on sensors. Hang tight.’ He switched off the comms and turned to Harkon. ‘How’s it coming overriding the spaceport’s systems?’

She made an exasperated noise. ‘It’s not really my area of expertise. Oh, and no reply from the folks out there with a lot of guns when I politely asked them to disperse.’

‘They don’t want to talk to us. They want to keep us here.’ Lips thin, Arys rounded on the cockpit door to the control room beyond. ‘Any luck?’

‘Getting there,’ came Shikar’s answer. He stood with Seeley at one of the control panels. ‘The next time spaceport control transmits an unlock command to another bay in this section, I think we can divert it to our bay.’

‘How often is that happening?’

‘About every five minutes?’

‘The captain doesn’t have five minutes.’ Arys drew a sharp breath, and straightened. ‘Gear up. We’ll disembark and get to the manual override ourselves.’

The tension that rippled through the team at the command was one he couldn’t place. Relief, certainly, at the order to take action instead of waiting. But there was an uneasy look that passed between Shikar and Seeley, and it moved from Shikar to Kowalski, who lingered as the other five headed for the ladder to the lower deck.

‘Five minutes isn’t a bad wait-time, sir,’ said Kowalski, mindful of not letting his voice carry beyond the aft room.

‘The captain’s making for an isolated rooftop, chased down by a warlord’s goons who want to hand him over to the Star Empire. We need to be heading for their location ten minutes ago.’

‘We’re against superior numbers,’ Kowalsi pressed, ‘and need to advance from a narrow position where we can’t bring all our phasers to bear across an open space. A five-minute sure thing is better than getting bogged down in this.’

‘I’m not letting the captain die or get captured because we played it safe, Chief! This is a Starfleet Hazard Team, and that’s the brute squad of a borderlands warlord with whatever weapons, armour, and training they can cobble together; let’s not get cowed by numbers.’ Arys straightened. ‘We can crack the dorsal hatch, have T’Kalla provide fire from there. The rest of us at the main hatchway. We cover Seeley as she breaks for the override.’

Kowalski’s expression folded. ‘I don’t -’

‘We’re the Hazard Team. We’re here to take risks so the senior staff don’t.’

The two men stared at each other for a heartbeat, before Kowalski gave a slow nod. ‘I’ll move out with Seeley. She’ll need someone watching her back if the override isn’t as easy as all that. There’ll be four of you at the main hatch; not much room for more anyway.’

There was a cold determination in Kowalski’s eyes that Arys couldn’t find it in himself to oppose. He had the rank, while Kowalski had the experience, and for all he couldn’t accept the older man’s caution, Arys knew that if he pressed this matter any more, this would turn from a disagreement into an argument. One he wasn’t sure how to handle, and didn’t have the time for anyway. Arys nodded. ‘Get ready, then, Chief.’

Harkon was at the cockpit door when Kowalski left, her voice low, unsure. ‘Do you want me grabbing a phaser, Tar’lek?’

He turned back to her. ‘You’ll be at your post, Ensign. The moment that lockdown’s lifted and all boots are aboard, we’re out of this bay and after the Captain.’

She straightened a half-inch, self-conscious at her familiarity being answered with curt professionalism. But she nodded. ‘Yes, Ensign.’

Arys gave himself only a moment to scrub his face with his hand as she returned to the helm. Then he went below to the others, already in position at Kowalski’s instructions. He could hear the thudding through the deck as T’Kalla scrambled up the ladder, on standby to pop the top hatch, and turned to Seeley. ‘You can do this?’

The Hazard Team’s tech specialist shrugged. ‘It shouldn’t be hard. Even if they tried to put an extra layer of security, it’s a safety override. If they could switch it off, they’d have probably done that instead of sending in a bunch of gunmen.’

Good point, Arys thought, angry with himself for not reaching that conclusion. He looked to the others. ‘We punch a hole from here. Kowalski and Seeley fill it. We lay down all the suppressive fire we can. They lift the lockdown. We get out. That simple.’

‘We have the edge over them,’ Kowalski added, ‘in training and equipment. Start out picking your targets. Precise shots. Make them afraid that if we fire, we will hit them. That’ll make them keep their heads down when we replace precision with volume.’

Trying to not flush at frustration at another tactical analysis he hadn’t made, Arys moved to the hatch control. ‘We have to get the runabout underway. Let’s do this,’ he said, and hit the panel.

It was excruciatingly more slow than he would have liked, and at once the air was filled with weapons fire. Arys hunkered down so Shikar could shoot from above him, and swung out with his rifle to survey the shuttlebay. The enforcers had taken position in the door, but also dragged a couple of packing crates forward so they could better fill the space with their numbers. And they were ready.

He stayed low for the first burst of enemy fire, before narrowing his focus, selecting his targets, and firing. For a moment it seemed the local enforcers were happy to shoot indiscriminately, keep the Hazard Team pinned down. Then he heard the top hatch bust open, T’Kalla emerging to let out a series of swift, accurate shots that took down two enforcers before they could realise what was going on. The rest of the Hazard Team were quick to capitalise on the confusion, taking quick and precise shots that thinned their numbers.

As they ducked down, Arys waved a hand at Seeley and Kowalski, poised to act. ‘Go!’

Kowalski had one eye on the firefight and looked like he might have said to wait – but Seeley ran at the instruction, and so did he, the two surging into the shuttlebay and firing as they went.

The rest of the Hazard Team followed suit, laying down suppressing fire, and it seemed Kowalski had been right – against a rag-tag enemy, an opening display of Starfleet precision and training made them warier than a disciplined enemy would have been against a more indiscriminate volley.

Kowalski and Seeley sprinted to the control panel on the far side of the shuttlebay, and Arys’s throat tightened as he saw how little cover was there. But Kowalski took a knee as they arrived, laying out steady beams of phaser rifle fire, and it looked like Seeley took barely three heartbeats before she hammered a button on the panel.

At once, Arys heard Harkon’s voice over comms. ‘They got it! Getting us ready to go!’ she called, and he felt the deck hum under them.

He didn’t need to signal the return of his team, the two already sprinting back. But then one bold enforcer stuck their head up to take a few quick shots, and another, and even in the face of fear, the rag-tag group looked like they were remembering they had superior numbers – and were perhaps realising that Starfleet kept their phasers set to stun.

A courtesy Arys realised his opponents had not extended when Kowalski reached the foot of the ramp and a disruptor blast took him in the lower back. ‘Chief!’

He fell almost at once, and if Seeley hadn’t been there to grab and use his momentum to haul him into the runabout, he would have fallen, dead weight mere feet from their escape. Arys fired a couple of rifle shots before bellowing into comms, ‘Get us out of here, Harkon!’

The King Arthur ascended at once, and as Baranel helped Seeley haul Kowalski aboard, Arys smacked the control to close the hatch. They set the burly man down on the deck, Voothe tossing away his rifle to pull out his medkit.

‘I got him!’ the medic insisted. ‘Don’t move him more, that shot was directly on his spine…’

Arys felt his breathing come in a panicked quiver as he stood over them. ‘Is he dead?’

‘No,’ Voothe said, bent over Kowalski with his tricorder. ‘Sir, you worry about the rest of the rescue. Nothing you can do here. I’ll get him stable to move to the med section.’

Shikar looked up at Arys, his Caitian features inscrutable. ‘Get to the cockpit, sir. Tell the captain we’re coming. We’ve got this.’

We’ve got our person, Arys heard, but the instruction made enough sense and pierced through the collapsing bubble of adrenaline enough that his feet propelled him back to the upper deck. Only when he was up top did he pause, before giving himself a quick shake and tapping his combadge. ‘King Arthur to Endeavour and away team. We’re underway and heading for you, Captain.’

His voice only quivered a little.

* *

They were only six storeys up, but the roof was level with or higher than other buildings of Jhorkesh, the trade outpost spilling before Beckett in a sea of light and sound. He turned to the roof access door against which Rourke had slammed all his weight. ‘That’s what,’ Beckett said, voice shuddering. ‘Three minutes’ ETA?’

Rourke nodded, jaw tight. ‘I can’t hear anything. Maybe they didn’t find the building.’

‘Yeah.’ Beckett nodded, hope surging in his chest as he turned to the next rooftop. In time to see its roof access door swing open, and a trio of enforcers spilt out with disruptors ready. ‘Or not.’

‘Down!’ Rourke bellowed, abandoning his barricade to dive for cover against an air vent, and the night sky around them flooded with weapons fire.

Beckett threw himself behind the wall of the roof access, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers were clammy as he pulled out his phaser pistol. ‘Oh, God.’ The quickest glance to the open showed Rourke firing from cover, clipping one enforcer with a stun blast that dropped them, and forcing the other two into cover as well.

You trained for this, Beckett told himself sternly. As a pep-talk it had the unpleasant reminder that he’d only ever practiced shooting a real, living person, but against his better judgement he shoved higher thinking aside and latched onto the adrenaline. No contemplation. Only action.

Adrenaline did not, as it transpired, help his accuracy. His first two shots as he leaned out went wide, but even as Rourke’s shooting found and dropped a target, more followed onto the nearby rooftop.

Three minutes? Had it been three minutes yet? Ducking back, Beckett tugged at his jacket to check his PADD’s clock. It had been twenty seconds. He gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and forced his breathing to slow before he leaned out again, phaser ready. Rourke was ducked down under a heavy salvo of fire, and an enforcer was breaking cover to charge forward, likely to leap the narrow distance between buildings. Beckett took a moment. Exhaled. And fired. The shot struck true, stunning the charging enforcer.

The man went limp at once, falling – and his momentum carried on to bring him tumbling off the side of the building. Stunned, he could not even manage a scream before he hit the ground.

Beckett’s back slammed against the wall, heart trying to crawl into his throat and choke him, and the world with all its violence and danger rushed away. Somewhere in the distance he heard a voice, the universal translator pitching Romulan words to comprehensible threats.

‘Throw down your weapon, Rourke. You’re worth a lot, but we don’t need your officer!’

Rourke’s reply was less than Starfleet-standard, came with a flurry of phaser blasts, and a moment later Beckett felt a firm hand at his shoulder. The captain had taken advantage of the brief exchange to break cover and join him behind the wall. ‘Nate? You hit?’ Beckett jerked up, for a moment unable to breathe, and sputtered as he shook his head. Rourke’s expression folded to a confused frown. ‘We’ve got to move; it’s only a matter of time before someone pops up on another roof and flanks us. These buildings are close enough to jump. King Arthur can pick us up.’

‘I -’ The word was a croak, and Beckett tried to swallow. ‘I shot him. He fell.’

Realisation dawned in Rourke’s eyes. ‘We’ll debrief later. Nate, we have to go.’

‘He fell, he’s dead, I killed -’

‘Ensign Beckett!’ That thudded through the haze of shock, terror, and disgust that had smothered Beckett like a blanket, Rourke’s orders coming in a thunderous tone. ‘Get up and move!’

They ran. Disruptor fire burst around them, and Rourke fired a few phaser blasts over his shoulder, but then came the edge of the roof, and Beckett had to shove away the vivid image of the Romulan he’d shot falling to his death. Rourke gave him an urging push and Beckett picked up speed, leaping, the air rushing around him, falling –

– hitting the next roof over, staggering, and keeping going. He heard Rourke land behind him, heard the voices of the enforcers giving chase, but they were surely too out in the open, surely without cover to avoid being shot by any of them.

Then the night sky of Jhorkesh, with all its stars and moons, was blotted out with the roar of impulse engines. The King Arthur sank from above to hover before them just above the rooftop, hatch open for the Hazard Team to lay down fire at their pursuers, and Beckett didn’t think he would ever again in his life be so happy to see Tar’lek Arys.

It was Baranel who caught him as he and Rourke leapt for the hatch, and at once he felt the King Arthur surge upward, pull away from the rooftop gunfire and burst for the atmosphere. The hatch closed behind them and Beckett straightened from trying to get his breath back, but staggered when Rourke clapped him on the shoulder.

‘Alright!’ The captain did not look how Beckett thought a man following a near-death experience should, bright-eyed and flushed after running for their lives. ‘Not how I thought the mission could go, but. Could have been worse.’

‘Yeah,’ said Beckett, feeling light-headed, and looked up at Arys. ‘See, I was a fabulous bodyguard.’

Then, as adrenaline faded and the vivid image rose before him of the man he’d killed, Ensign Beckett bent double and vomited.

Rourke waved away the nurse as Valance and Thawn approached his biobed in sickbay. ‘Are we clear?’ He’d taken no particular injury, had needed nothing more than the cleaning of some cuts before they could be patched up, but he could feel the fatigue in his limbs as the adrenaline of the last few hours faded and its intensity began to catch up with him.

Valance folded her arms across her chest, and though he knew she wasn’t happy, he saw her keep her emotions in check. ‘We’re half a light-year from Jhorkesh. There’s no sign anyone’s following us.’

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. About sickbay, medics checked the cuts and scrapes of the away team, but he still glanced at the operating theatre into which Sadek had disappeared with Chief Kowalski. The parallels to the aftermath of Teros, and Lieutenant Drake’s death, was not lost on him, and after a moment he gestured the other two to follow him into Sadek’s office to speak more privately. They’d see through the windows if the CMO emerged.

‘I assume,’ Rourke said once they were inside, ‘that the bounty on my head is exactly what I think it is?’

‘I did some digging,’ said Thawn cautiously. ‘It was issued about forty-eight hours after the destruction of the Erem and is rather non-specifically for “crimes against the Romulan people.” The Star Empire don’t seem to be circulating it in their own Navy – that would constitute ordering treaty-violating action against a Starfleet captain – but they seem prepared to stir up unaffiliated factions in the region against you, if not use them in a relatively deniable way.’

Rourke sighed. ‘I should have known they wouldn’t take this lying down.’

‘What happened with the Hyksos?’ asked Valance.

‘Argus was grabbed on smuggling charges by the Star Empire six months ago. They threw him in Tagrador, one of their prison camps.’

‘His crew didn’t have the Tkon files?’ asked Thawn.

‘The Tkon collection was a gold-mine for Argus; he hadn’t shared access to it with anyone. His crew knew he’d paid for a quantum archive to store it – and anything else of high-value – but they don’t know where it is or how to get it.’

Valance’s nostrils flared. ‘So that’s it. So much for the rest of the maps.’ She turned to Thawn. ‘Has your analysis given us a better lead?’

Thawn winced. ‘I’ve been studying the collection from Arcidava and comparing it to everything we already know about the Tkon’s movement of stars. But it’s unclear why they were moving Ephrath in phases – technological constraints? Some other purpose? We don’t just not know much about the Tkon’s technology, we don’t know much about how it changed and developed over time. Worst of all, I do have an educated guess on whereabouts Ephrath might have at least moved through, even if it’s not its final resting space: Romulan space.’

Rourke’s grimace deepened. ‘So our star records are going to be less and less help.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘I guess we’re breaking Argus out of a Romulan prison, then.’

Valance stared at him. ‘Why is that -’

But the door to the operating theatre slid open, and they moved to the office doorway as Sadek emerged. Again, Rourke could read her expression, and this time his breathing eased at her lighter, if not entirely unburdened expression. The doctor raised her hands as all eyes in Sickbay fell on her. ‘The Chief’s going to be alright. Not right away, but he’ll pull through.’ The easing of tension across the room was immediate, though when Rourke looked back at the Hazard Team he could see the five veterans clumped together, exchanging back-slaps, while Ensign Arys sat beyond them on a biobed with a hangdog expression.

Sadek joined them in her office, closing the doors behind her. ‘He’s regained consciousness and Lieutenant Veldman’s with him now,’ she said, gaze going guarded. ‘He is exceptionally lucky, and doesn’t really feel it: I’ve had to numb his lower spine so he doesn’t damage himself further, paralysing him from the waist down for at least a few days, and he’s got a month, maybe two, of recovery ahead of him. He’ll need several sessions with me to monitor regrowth and repair to his spinal cord, not to mention ongoing physiotherapy.’

Rourke let out a slow, relieved breath. ‘At least he’ll be alright. We’ll need some temporary additional assignments to the Hazard Team if we’re doing a prison break, though.’

But Sadek’s gaze went thunderous. ‘Matt, are you kidding me?’ she snapped. ‘I didn’t just get Kowalski’s version of events, I got the team’s and I got Beckett’s; that was a total mess down there. Your Hazard Team is in a state and you want to go do something else ridiculously dangerous?’

Rourke straightened, the surge of a response to being yelled at slow, for now, after running for his life. He looked to Valance and Thawn, the former guarded, the latter looking like she’d prefer to be elsewhere, and he nodded to the door. ‘Could you give Doctor Sadek and I a moment?’ Only once the door was shut did he turn back to Sadek, eyebrows raised. ‘Aisha, you need to stop trying to yell at me in front of my officers.’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘Really? Because you’ve done a damned fine job of denying me any chance to yell at you about this in private,’ she pointed out, and guilt squirmed in him as he realised she’d noticed him avoiding her since Teros. ‘I had to do something to get your attention.’

He lifted a hand to his temples, still weary. ‘That doesn’t mean you get to shout at me because you got the immediate, unfiltered, stressed and hurt and afraid reactions of an away team who don’t have all the details.’

‘Oh, no. This isn’t about the details of what happened.’ Sadek jabbed a finger at him. ‘This is about you putting untested kids into key positions of authority and taking on challenging operations while giving the crew only half of the info.’

‘This mission was a success.’

‘A month ago you’d have taken Airex with you to Jhorkesh, not Nate Beckett, five minutes out of the Academy. He’s unhurt, but he walked off that mission looking like a ghost. A month ago, your reinforcements would have been led by Rhade, not Arys, your yeoman some of the Hazard Team are blaming for what happened to Kowalski.’

‘I’m working,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘with the officers I have, and I don’t have the luxury of picking my missions.’

‘Then why are you brushing off anyone telling you to slow down? Not just me; Valance is clearly not happy, and I don’t know why you’ve decided to throw her to the wind after taking weeks, months to get her trust -’

At last, adrenaline found him. ‘Because we cannot slow down!’ he barked, squaring up to face her. They wouldn’t be heard outside the office, but they would be seen, and still he couldn’t clamp down on his anger enough to disguise his body language. ‘There are matters to which you are not privy, Doctor Sadek!’

‘Don’t do that,’ Sadek chided bitterly. ‘Don’t treat me like I’m other people, like I don’t know you, Matt. Don’t try to shut this down with rank as if I don’t know exactly what you’re doing. Drake died, and you used that to manipulate Thawn into getting Rhade to do what you wanted. Rhade and Kharth disobeyed you, and now you’re compartmentalising information even further among your senior staff, elevating young officers who won’t dare go against you, putting Thawn in as second officer because she’ll obey and otherwise you’d risk Cortez and Valance teaming up against you.’

That was like a kick in the solar plexus, Rourke rocking back for a heartbeat, left scrabbling for words. When he had them again, the anger was gone and his voice was low, firm. ‘I’m doing what I have to for the good of the mission. You don’t get to spend your career refusing to move out of Sickbay, then play backseat commander when it suits you, just because we’re friends.’ Shock shifted in him for hurt, and now his jaw clenched to try to disguise it. ‘I blew up a Romulan ship, Aisha. Fifty-three people. You’re right, we’ve known each other a long time, which means you should either think I’ve lost my mind and you and Carraway should be teaming up on me – and if not, don’t you trust that I’ve got a damned good reason for what I’m doing?’

She faded at that, shoulders dropping, apprehension entering her gaze. ‘You make it sound,’ she replied in a low voice, ‘like I don’t know that you’re very often your own worst enemy, Matt. When you get pushed down an alleyway, you fight dirty. You also fight alone. Stop treating your crew like a threat to be managed.’

The words rattled inside him, but try as he might, Rourke couldn’t conceive of what that would be like with Endeavour’s senior staff hurt, distrustful, and stripped-down like this. Not if even Aisha Sadek didn’t have his back. He shook his head. ‘You’re excused from senior staff briefings for the rest of this operation. You and Counsellor Carraway. Decision-making will be limited to line officers on matters of starship operations and security.’ As she reeled, he turned towards the door. ‘Patch up my crew, Doctor. Go take that bridge officer’s exam at long bloody last if you want me to give a damn about your opinion on other matters,’ he said, and departed.

Most others, patched up and no longer waiting for word on Kowalski, had left. Perhaps they’d been judicious, or perhaps Valance had made the executive decision that they didn’t need to stand staring at the captain tearing strips off his oldest friend and CMO. Even Thawn had been ushered along, the XO the only one waiting for him outside.

She straightened and clasped her hands behind her back. ‘I assume you have an idea on how we’re breaking a smuggler out of a Romulan Star Empire border prison, sir?’

Even wary as he was, he could detect no sarcasm, only crisp professionalism. He sighed. ‘For that, Commander, we’re going to need a little bit of help.’

* *

It was just as well Dathan preferred to work alone where possible, she reflected, because otherwise it would have been annoying for her most senior staffer to be whisked away by the Hazard Team at a moment’s notice. She’d assumed the mission had gone well enough once they’d hit warp and Rourke had sent down a request for a full strategic analysis of the area surrounding the Tagrador system, just beyond the border to the Romulan Star Empire, but she could see to it herself.

So she was surprised when a freshly-scrubbed T’Kalla came into the CIC, still with the tell-tale pinkishness at her cheek that suggested a dermal regenerator had done its work, and stalked up to the main display. ‘I expect we’ve got a job, Lieutenant?’

Dathan squinted at her. ‘Chief. Surely you should be resting.’

‘If it’s all the same to you, Lieutenant, I’d rather work.’

‘What by the Prophets happened down there?’

‘You didn’t hear?’ T’Kalla quirked an eyebrow, then her expression pinched. ‘Kowalski’s in Sickbay. Probably can’t walk for a month.’

Despite herself, Dathan’s chest tightened. ‘It went badly?’

‘It went -’ She looked away. ‘I shouldn’t be mad at the kid. He’s a kid.’

‘Arys?’

‘Sometimes you can tell if a junior officer actually thinks he knows better,’ T’Kalla grumbled, ‘or if he’s just so damn insecure he thinks listening to someone else makes him look bad. The only good thing I can say about Arys is that I’m not sure which it was.’

Dathan lifted her hands. ‘You’re going to have to explain this from the start.’

‘It’s not complicated. Kowalski made about three recommendations he ignored. Said we didn’t have time for them.’ T’Kalla hesitated. ‘I don’t know if we did, but the point is, I’m not sure Arys overruled him for the right reason. Then came the fight, and he -’ She shook her head. ‘He ordered Seeley to go too soon. We could have laid out stun grenades, heavier fire, something, but Arys gave the order and so she had to go, so Kowalski had to go, so Kowalski got shot.’

With no particular idea of how the fight had gone down, Dathan felt like she was five steps behind. She also suspected a detailed tactical breakdown wasn’t necessary. ‘Kowalski got shot because Arys made a bad call?’

‘Yes! No…’ T’Kalla threw her hands in the air. ‘No, it’s not fair for me to blame Arys. But we don’t know him, and he doesn’t know us. We’ve trained together for about five minutes, and he is way too green to slide into leadership that quickly for a mission that went that pear-shaped that fast. Maybe Lieutenant Rhade would have overruled Kowalski, but nobody would have been second-guessing him. So maybe I’m mad at us, too.’

‘Is Kowalski alright?’

‘He will be,’ T’Kalla grumbled. ‘But it’ll take a while.’

‘And Rhade’s still in the brig,’ Dathan said slowly, ‘because he refuses to be let out of the brig.’

‘So scuttlebutt says.’

Dathan rubbed her forehead, then looked at the CIC’s hub. ‘If you want to work, Chief, I have a sector analysis that needs requisitioning and downloading. Details have come in from the captain.’

T’Kalla nodded, but watched as Dathan headed for the door. ‘What’re you doing? Coffee break?’

‘If you desperately want to work, Chief, there’s no point in me being here while you prepare the paperwork,’ Dathan lied. The truth was that she wasn’t sure what she was doing, but her feet propelled her down to the security section anyway, past the main office and to the brig.

Lieutenant Vakkis gave her a curious look. ‘Lieutenant?’

‘There are two ways this can go, Vakkis,’ she said flatly. ‘You can let me in to see Lieutenant Rhade for a private conversation, or I have to start asking pointed questions about why you’ve abused your position to put him and Kharth in cells so close they have no privacy, which I’m rather sure is against best practice.’

The brig officer stiffened. ‘It’s not against regs -’

‘I don’t care if you’re angry with Lieutenant Kharth for dishonouring the security department, or whatever’s going on,’ she sighed. ‘I will make your life difficult if you make mine.’

Vakkis looked at her. Then led her down the row of cells without another word.

Kharth was flat on her back on the cell bunk, but lifted her head at their approach. ‘I overheard some of that,’ she said in a low, wry voice, ‘and you’ve just gone up in my estimation, Dathan.’

‘Delighted,’ Dathan deadpanned, her eyes instead on the bemused form of Adamant Rhade, getting to his feet as she was admitted to his cell like this was a formal dinner gathering. A moment later she heard the fizz of the forcefield returning to block out all sound, and she spoke before either he could or she thought too hard about what she was saying. ‘You need to stop being an idiot.’

Rhade straightened. ‘What’s happened?’

Her jaw tightened as she realised the confused cocktail of her emotions had to be coming off her in waves in front of a telepath, and she had to clamp down on a treacherous bout of fear. Anger, at least, could smother it. ‘You could be out of this cell and doing your job, but instead you want to go on a sanctimonious crusade through the Starfleet judicial system?’

‘Lieutenant, what’s happened?’

She kept riding the aggravation, now entirely unsure of what she was doing or why she was here. ‘A bad mission happened. Because you weren’t leading the Hazard Team. And Kowalski was shot.’

Now Rhade frowned. ‘Is he alright?’

‘You kill people for Starfleet all the time,’ she said, because avoiding answering was one way to keep him on his toes. ‘We killed people for Starfleet only months ago, all those D’Ghor we shot because they were so dangerous. Why are you up in arms about being ordered to shoot down that ship?’

‘There is a difference between killing enemies who will not be taken alive, against whom weapons set to a lower setting will be ineffective, in a direct firefight, and blowing up a defenceless vessel that had taken no direct action against us.’

‘No direct action – that’s disingenuous,’ she pointed out. ‘They beamed something aboard their ship, and that’s why Rourke blew it up, to stop them from taking it away. Just because their actions weren’t violent doesn’t mean they didn’t provoke violence.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps. But they were still defenceless. There’s always another way.’

‘That’s naive.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘How, by the Prophets, can you be a soldier who picks and chooses when he shoots?’

‘Because I’m a soldier of the Federation,’ said Rhade, squaring his shoulders, but for all his tension his voice remained soft. ‘That gives me more of an obligation, not less, to scrutinise every order, every instruction I am ever given to enact violence and to take lives. Committing to fighting the Federation’s enemies means absolute vigilance, not against those without, but against those within. Because the orders don’t change, the regulations don’t change, the discipline doesn’t change. Determinations on who is and who is not an enemy? That changes. I’m not less accountable because I’m a soldier expected to follow orders. I’m more accountable, because I have to make sure I am always following the right orders.’

Dathan Tahla was an expert in subterfuge and deception, but all she could do was stare at him in utter bewilderment. ‘That,’ she said, ‘is death to a chain of command, and so it’s just – it’s death!’

‘I’m not saying I hold a philosophical debate at every instruction,’ he conceded. ‘But I study my commanders, their orders, their judgement, so I know in whom I place my trust. Captain Rourke’s orders were wrong. And you say that disobeying would be death – that day? On that bridge? Obeying was death. Just because it’s someone else’s death doesn’t make that acceptable.’

‘We can’t fix or change the galaxy, the Federation, Rhade,’ Dathan snapped, and his gaze flickered as he heard her faintest stumble on her words. ‘All we have is what’s in front of us. And you are letting down the people in front of you.’

To her surprise, his expression fell. ‘I’m sorry I disappointed you. I’d hoped you’d understand.’

‘Not me,’ she said quickly. ‘The Hazard Team. Thawn. Taking on the galaxy will do nothing except see the galaxy snuff you out like a candle. Condemning yourself for higher ideals will see you smothered and silenced. The people around you? The people who rely on you? At the end of the day, they’re the only ones you can show up for.’

Now his eyes were thoughtful. ‘I didn’t realise you took such an immediate view of life. That makes me sorrier, if so.’

‘Don’t be sorry for me -’

‘You misunderstand. There’s nothing wrong with viewing everything based on the people around you. They’re one of the only ways we can be sure of our mark on the galaxy, and their good opinion one of the only ways we can be sure we’re doing right – if we surround ourselves with the right people. But if that’s so, then as one of the people around you, I’ve doubly let you down. And I’m sorry for that.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t -’

‘This isn’t about me.’ Dathan took a step back, smacking the wall panel to summon Vakkis. This was a mistake. This was all a mistake. ‘You should be apologising to Lieutenant Veldman.’

It was the right tactic, urgency returning to his eyes. ‘The Chief. Is he -’

‘He’ll live. A month’s recovery. But it was bad without you.’ She stepped back through as Vakkis lowered the forcefield, and gave the brig officer a curt nod to raise it before Rhade could press any further. But she shook her head as he rallied, unable to completely swallow the bitterness. ‘I should have known you wouldn’t listen.’

Then she left. Rhade called out once, Kharth stuck her head up again, but she didn’t stop, not even for Vakkis’s gentle grumble at her to confirm her visitation on the ship’s systems.

This had all been a mistake.

‘Great bloody Fire!’ The archaeology lab lights being turned to full came with that startled oath, and Beckett winced as he lifted a hand to guard his eyes, Lieutenant Thawn now a blinding shape in the doorway. ‘What are you doing?’

He blinked. ‘How the hell did I startle you? You’re a telepath.’

‘It’s not like having perfect sensor readings,’ she said indignantly. ‘And it certainly doesn’t explain why you’ve been, what, lurking in a lab reading with the lights off and being maudlin for how long have you been here?’

‘Huh, maybe you’re a better telepath than you thought.’ He rubbed his eyes, squinting back at the screen he’d been reading. ‘A few hours? Four maybe?’

She stalked in, dark eyes sweeping over the work. In practice he’d stared at the file integrity analysis blankly for most of that time, and from her expression it looked like she’d noted how little he’d achieved. ‘If we can’t make a realistic prediction of Ephrath’s location to the captain, he’s going to push on with this ludicrous idea of breaking a smuggler out of a Romulan prison, which sounds at the very least like a political disaster. You can’t just waste time staring at nothing!’

‘I wasn’t wasting -’

‘You’ve achieved absolutely nothing here when you could have been helping me down in astrometrics! Honestly, a difficult away mission is no excuse for…’ Her voice trailed off, and she wrinkled her nose. Then her shoulders slumped, and she turned back to him. ‘What did happen down there?’

‘Now you ask.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘You’re second officer. You got the reports.’

‘Yes, you and the captain got chased and needed a rooftop evac and it sounds very dramatic.’ Thawn folded her arms across her chest. ‘But that doesn’t explain why you’ve slunk in here like you wanted a hole to die in and why, now I’m in front of you, I can sense that you at the very least want to throw up. Please don’t.’

‘I see you were selected to replace Airex for your splendid emotional support.’

Her nose wrinkled again. ‘Don’t labour under any illusion that I care, Beckett. But we have a job to do and you’re clearly in a state, so I need to know if I should tell you to either get your act together or report to Carraway.’

‘I don’t – I just needed a minute.’

‘Or two-hundred-and-forty if you’ve been here this long?’

He looked away. ‘I can’t believe the captain didn’t make a note of it.’ Perhaps he didn’t notice. Perhaps he didn’t think it mattered. Or perhaps he’s going to make something of it later.

‘Make a note of what?’

‘I -’ His throat closed up, and he shook his head quickly. ‘I choked. I froze up.’ It was true, but it wasn’t the truth.

And still Rosara Thawn’s expression collapsed. She drew up the chair next to him, body language completely shifting, voice lowering to a still-awkward sincerity. ‘In the fight?’

He gave a jerk of a nod. ‘I’ve never been in a real fight before. Just training. It looked like things might get heated on the Teros mission, but Airex and Kharth seemed like they knew what they were doing – even if it wasn’t the same thing – and anyway, I didn’t have to fire my phaser. But when we needed to run, Commander Rourke – I mean, Captain Rourke – he basically had to drag me…’

Thawn shifted her weight. ‘It’s not like training, is it. Not even holodeck training. There’s suddenly a lot more going on.’

‘Like me. Apparently I’m a lot that’s going on in a firefight.’ He tapped his chest. ‘It felt like everything inside was going way too fast to keep track of, and then all I could do was keep my head down because – because otherwise I thought I’d do something…’ Terrible. Something else terrible.

‘Wrong,’ said Thawn, and he realised she was picking a different word to finish his sentence, not disagreeing with him. He looked up to find her frowning at the control panel rather than looking at him, and she gave an awkward shrug. ‘If you can think at all, you think all your options are bad. That you’ll do something and get someone on your team hurt, or make them need to come rescue you, or…’

‘When did that happen to you?’ asked Beckett, tilting his head.

She straightened. ‘What makes you ask that?’

‘Because I have basic empathy – you’re a very weird telepath, Thawn. You’re clearly relating. Come on.’ He nudged her with his elbow.

For a heartbeat she looked indignant, then her gaze dropped and she twisted her fingers together. ‘There was an away mission against the D’Ghor. I was there as a technical specialist and I did all of that fine, I got us to where we needed to be, but then a fight started. Two of the Hazard Team died. And I -’ She shook her head. ‘I froze and stayed under cover.’

‘They’re the Hazard Team. They’re our local badasses – don’t tell Arys I ever said that. No offence, but you were going to save them?’

She shrank. ‘Lieutenant Kharth said that it could have made the difference for Otero and Palacio.’

Beckett bit his lip. ‘I don’t know if anyone has ever pointed this out to you,’ he said carefully. ‘But Lieutenant Kharth’s a total bitch.’

Thawn’s laugh was short, surprised, and ultimately guilty, and she smothered it quickly. ‘That’s not – that doesn’t mean she’s wrong, Ensign.’ But despite her chiding tone, she gave him a sidelong look. ‘There’s more. From you. It might be terribly rude of me to use my telepathy to sense anything from you, but it’s hard to not pick up on that.’

He sighed, his jokes and her admission loosening something within him. ‘I didn’t freeze at first. I shot someone. My phaser was set to stun, but they still – they fell off the roof. I’m pretty sure that would have killed them. That I killed them.’

Now her wrinkled nose bore sympathy. ‘I don’t know how people get used to that. I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t get this idea that the best way to keep people we care about safe is to be good at hurting other people.’ He shifted. ‘It wouldn’t have saved Connor.’

She glanced over. ‘I didn’t know you two were close.’

‘We weren’t. But he was alright, you know? He was a laugh. And now he’s dead just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And what would saving him have taken? Hurting a whole load of the refugees on Teros to stop them? How does that make sense?’ He looked back at her. ‘I know you were mates. I’m sorry.’

He couldn’t quite read her expression, figure out the flicker in her gaze at that. At last she said, ‘Thank you,’ and looked at her hands before she went on. ‘I miss him, but not just for me. He didn’t let us take anything too seriously. Even when – especially when – things are too serious.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t blame Captain Rourke for this. But we keep getting a lot more… violent missions than we did under Captain MacCallister. I expect it’s just because he’s good at them. I don’t really like it.’

‘This is a Manticore. It’s like a mobile gun.’

‘It doesn’t have to be. Strength can be a deterrent. Force can be used to protect. Instead we destroyed a Romulan ship, then marched right up to their border, and now we’re going to annoy them even more by breaking someone out of prison. I know the stakes are high, but it feels like nobody’s considering alternatives, or the fact we’re going to have to live with this when it’s over.’

‘Captain Rourke isn’t an aggressive man,’ Beckett said, and hoped he was right.

‘And Commander Valance is the most reasoned and reasonable officer I ever met,’ said Thawn. ‘But I’m pretty sure I was made second officer because neither of them expects me to disagree with them.’

That admission sounded like it took a lot, and he grimaced. ‘I’m pretty sure I was made acting chief science for the same reason. I owe the captain a lot,’ he sighed.

Silence reigned for a moment, before Lieutenant Thawn tilted her chin up, and then her superior and disapproving air was back. ‘Well, then. We should see if we can magically find Ephrath before the captain has to run off and do something even more provocative,’ she said, and got to her feet.

‘Pah, “magically,”’ Beckett scoffed, joining her. ‘You and me, Lieutenant, it’ll be geniusly…’

‘That is most certainly not a word…’

‘If we find Ephrath, who can stop us from making it one…?’

* *

‘We’re getting the notification of incoming comms from Admiral Beckett at Starbase Bravo,’ Arys reported, sticking his head in through the side-door to Rourke’s ready room, the route anyone had to take if they couldn’t come directly through the bridge and had to face the yeoman as a threshold guardian. ‘Lieutenant Lindgren’s confirming encryption right now.’

That would take a few minutes, so Rourke nodded and tossed a PADD to his desk. ‘That’s quicker than I expected.’

‘When you’re done, sir…’ Arys hesitated, then slid in, clutching a fresh report. ‘I’ve finished that efficiency assessment of the departments.’

Rourke’s eyebrows raised. ‘Already?’

‘I thought it’d be useful for you to have it sooner rather than later.’ He flicked through his PADD. ‘Key highlights are of course Security, Science, and Flight Control. Lieutenant Juarez has so far been replicating Lieutenant Kharth’s protocols, though I have noticed a slight dip in scores on the training yard – I think there might be a discipline factor there? But I’m passing that on to Commander Valance.’

Rourke tried to not grimace. It shouldn’t have been surprising the department was taking a hit for losing Kharth, but he had hoped Juarez would carry things over more smoothly. ‘I feel like you’re burying the lede, though, Ensign.’

‘Science is actually… continuing remarkably well, sir.’ Arys didn’t try to disguise his surprise. ‘As a department it’s much more compartmentalised across teams and specialities and Ensign Beckett has been heavily delegating and giving team leaders broad leeway. I thought he might have been neglecting the supervision, but then he stepped in the last few days with the life sciences division after Lieutenant Veldman… uh, has had to, ah, deal with Chief Kowalski, and it seems to be going well?’

If there was one thing Nate Beckett was good at, Rourke mused, it was getting people to do what he wanted when he really put his mind to it. ‘And Flight Control?’

‘See, I’ve put a notice in for Ensign Harkon to step up the review of the nav systems and the beta shift training protocols.’ Arys brightened at that, advancing and gesturing to the PADD. ‘It’s one of our smallest departments and everyone really does know their job, but people still need a bit of a push and she – I think she’s still adapting from focusing on small craft when there are some details of the ship’s flight control system management I…’ His voice trailed off, and he tucked the PADD under his arm. ‘I’ll forward these to Commander Valance,’ he said at last, abashed.

Rourke gave a tight smile as he nodded. ‘It’s still good work, Ensign. I appreciate you staying on top of it.’ He looked the young man over, and drew a tense breath. ‘How’ve you been since Jho-’

Then his desk console blatted at him with the incoming call, and Arys snapped upright at once. ‘I’ll get out of your hair, sir,’ he said at once, and beat a hasty retreat before Rourke could stop him.

But this was more important, and with a sigh he settled behind his desk and brought the holographic feed from Starbase Bravo online. His expression set at the appearance of not just Admiral Beckett before him, but a woman in civilian garb he did not recognise. ‘Admiral,’ he started, guardedly.

Admiral Beckett wore the level sort of expression Rourke knew disguised deep discontent, which didn’t tell Rourke much. Sometimes he liked very much things that bothered Admiral Beckett. ‘Captain, we won’t waste too much time on pleasantries. But let me introduce First Secretary Hale, Federation Diplomatic Service, who has been… fully briefed on all matters pertaining to this situation and has the clearance to match.’ There was a hint of a sigh of surrender about those words.

A flicker of amusement entered the dark eyes of Secretary Hale, a sharp-featured, brown-haired human woman around forty years of age. Rourke suppressed his own smirk at the idea she had already been exposed enough to Beckett to both get the measure of him and find his annoyance at least a little satisfying. But her brightness faded for a more severe intensity as she regarded him. ‘Captain Rourke. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

He leaned back in his chair. The last thing he needed was a telling-off from a bureaucrat. ‘Nobody ever says that when it’s good.’

‘The Diplomatic Service assigned me to be involved,’ pressed on Secretary Hale, diplomatically, ‘after we heard of the bounty on your head, Captain. Especially with Starfleet intent on keeping you in operations in the region.’

‘Captain Rourke has my fullest support,’ grumbled Admiral Beckett. ‘His operations have been approved under the Omega Directive, and his success in this unprecedented crisis is considerably more important than keeping the Romulans happy.’

Rourke scratched his beard. ‘I guess I could ask if they’ll just let me wander into Tagrador freely.’

Hale’s eyes flickered between the two men. ‘I answer directly to Counsellor Odier, head of the diplomatic mission to the Neutral Zone. We support the Federation’s hope to retain stability in the area, including when the interests of the three Romulan governments may challenge that. Because of that and my diplomatic rank, I have been briefed on Omega so, yes, I do understand the situation and the stakes. But I’m unconvinced they warrant repeated provocation of the Romulan Star Empire. We will have to deal with them afterwards.’

Frustration wormed in Rourke’s gut. ‘I’m all ears if you have a better idea of how to get what we want, First Secretary. But we don’t have time for you to negotiate for Argus’s release.’

‘No, I expect not,’ Hale said tensely. ‘But you’re after a smuggler and you’ve all decided the best approach is a treaty violation. In search of information which may lead to more information on the Tkon Empire, which may provide clues regarding the Omega crisis, which may lead to its resolution. I am, frankly, unconvinced by the value of the payoff you’re using to justify the risk, gentlemen.’

‘We don’t know what we’re going to find until we find it.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘But this is information on the Tkon the Federation’s never seen – that no actual scholars have ever seen, Argus plucked them out of a shipwreck. We’re on the trail of what was once a neighbour to Horizon, that may have been moved by the same people who moved Horizon – and so possibly for similar reasons.’

‘May,’ Hale echoed. ‘Possibly. And even so, why does it have to be your crew, Captain, going to break this man Argus out? Having you personally and repeatedly draw the ire of the Romulan Star Empire risks turning adding insult to the injuries we do them.’

‘We’re here. Other ships in the region are dealing with Omega, and they don’t have our resources.’

Admiral Beckett lifted his hands. ‘Ms Hale, you’ve made your points, but without an alternative we will be pressing on with this mission. That makes your presence her a courtesy, where you can lend assistance if possible and otherwise you’ll know which bush fire in diplomacy with the Romulans to prepare from. Now.’ He looked to Rourke before Hale could reply. ‘I’ve tapped the head of our field office on Qualor. He’ll be patched through once we’re done here for operational details.’ Beckett hesitated. ‘You are, of course, familiar with Commander Slater.’

Rourke’s back felt like it seized up, and for a moment he could neither move nor breathe. ‘Jeremiah Slater?’

‘Yes,’ Beckett said, and had Rourke been less shocked he would have noticed the admiral trying to bull-rush through this news. ‘He has contacts and assets in the Empire who will help you infiltrate Tagrador. Endeavour will remain in the Neutral Zone as you dispatch a small, undercover team to extract Argus, and return.’

Hale leaned forward. ‘Does this mission plan necessitate violence against the Star Empire?’

‘First Secretary, plans may often go awry and the Romulans won’t welcome officers with a picnic -’

‘I will of course prepare for the worst, Admiral. A key factor in our current issue with the Star Empire is the matter of face, gentlemen. They cannot openly object to the destruction of the Erem because its mission and loss would be an embarrassment to them. But now we are provoking them. A successful covert operation again keeps cards in our hand; to confront us, they would have to admit Starfleet slipped in and out under their noses. If we are seen to attack them in their territory, they have more of a high ground – and that is the sort of issue the Free State enjoys capitalising upon.’ Hale’s eyes on Admiral Beckett were cold. ‘I am perfectly prepared to fight the necessary diplomatic fights, Admiral. But I need to know if I’m getting ready to do them over the table, or if I’ll need my knives for the back room bickers.’

Admiral Beckett worked his jaw, before he at last said, ‘If Commander Slater’s mission is carried off without a hitch, there’ll be no violence and the Romulans will be left none the wiser.’

Their words had been tinny to Rourke for long seconds, distant, but at last he found his voice. ‘I’ll be leading the mission myself, First Secretary. We’ll do our best to keep it discreet.’

Beckett looked more surprised by that than Hale, who merely nodded and said, ‘I understand, Captain. Only you can make the appropriate decisions if you have to change the plan.’

‘Matt, are you sure that’s -’

‘I’m not sending my people into a Romulan prison camp without me if they don’t know what it’s for,’ Rourke said flatly. ‘Even if I have to start a war with the Star Empire.’

Hale looked tired. ‘I’m not here to tell you that you’re wrong, gentlemen. I’m here to remind you both of the long-term considerations I know are easily overlooked in a crisis. And above all, I’m here so the Federation’s diplomats are ready for whatever happens next. Including how we protect you if necessary, Captain. A bounty on your head might be something we can wield against the Star Empire if they want to get uppity with us, but if someone collects I’d rather get you out of their hands with the full might of the Diplomatic Service than the full might of Starfleet Tactical.’

‘Don’t worry, First Secretary.’ Rourke gave a smile that made him feel faintly sick. ‘I know which is more dangerous.’

Admiral Beckett grumbled. ‘I’ll pass you on to Slater now, Rourke. Confirm the op details with him, and he’ll brief me and the First Secretary. Bring Endeavour back to Starbase 23 when you have Argus or his files.’

‘Please do, Captain,’ chimed in Hale. ‘I’m on my way there now. We can assess the damage.’

‘I think that damage is your problem, First Secretary, Admiral,’ Rourke commented wryly, and braced himself as Beckett ended the communication and left his connection hanging for long moments, waiting to be patched through to the office of Lieutenant Commander Jeremiah Slater.

The man he’d once known as his chief engineer looked older, almost three years on now. But it was not the streaks of premature grey and fresh lines to his once-boyish face that made him look like a different person, so much as the transformation of the context of this meeting. Rourke suspected that had he not been warned, he might not have recognised a man he’d served with for years.

But he knew that anxious glint in Slater’s eyes, usually associated with a chief engineer who had to tell his commander something they didn’t want to hear. Jeremiah Slater shifted straight at this desk, and cleared his throat. ‘It’s been a while. I hear congratulations are in order, Captain.’

‘And to you. Commander.’ Rourke had to force himself to not clench his jaw. ‘Heard you were assigned to the Scylla. Heard a lot of people were assigned to the Scylla.’

Slater smacked his lips, wrong-footed at once. ‘I should have assumed you’d keep track of all of us, sir, and that you’d have a nose for a cover-up. Yes, I had an opportunity for a career shift after the Firebrand. I worked a lot with the inquest team, got vetted to hell and back over it, and it ended with an offer of a different job. So, here we are.’

And once you walked down a street with two people who should be dead. Rourke flexed his hand out of sight of his camera. ‘Here we are. You have a means for me to break into Tagrador?’

Slater cleared his throat. ‘Yes, sir. The good news is that Tagrador is a bit of a dive. It’s where the Romulan Star Empire throws miscreants and the unwanted, mostly from border issues – low-level criminals the likes of your Argus. It’s not their highest security priority. I have an asset in the Star Empire with contacts who can get you in, link you up with the target, and get you back out again.’

‘Why can’t they do it themselves?’

Slater shrugged. ‘Deniability. The asset doesn’t want to personally free a smuggler. The contacts are a Tagrador guard who could be bribed, and the captain of a supply ship. The captain’s prepared to have two Starfleet officers disguised as members of his crew on the next supply run. You’ll disembark, he’ll consult with the Tagrador staff, and as you unload supplies to the warehouse facility, the guard will escort Argus to you. You put him in one of their empty supply crates and walk out with him. It’ll work because nobody’s expecting the likes of the prisoners of Tagrador to have the contacts or influence to pull this off.’

Rourke glanced to another screen at an incoming file, Slater’s mission briefing scrolling across with instructions and images. ‘Any reason your field office can’t do this?’ Who’s working with you, Jerry…

‘Because I have only so many field agents and most of what I do right now is monitoring the Romulans absolutely losing their minds over the current situation.’ Slater spoke with a hint of irritation that suggested to Rourke he did not know about Omega, and knew there was something he didn’t know. ‘I expect you’ll go yourself? Take someone with you with infiltration training.’

The list of capable and trusted options was not, Rourke realised with a sinking heart, very long. ‘This supply ship, the Pienem. She’ll rendezvous with us before, then bring us back across the border when we’re done?’

‘Then you have Argus with you and he can give you whatever it is that makes this salvager who smuggled the wrong thing worth all of this hassle. I’m burning quite a lot of capital to get this done, sir, so I hope he’s worth it.’

‘I know what I’m doing,’ Rourke said, trying to not snap, then drew a deep breath. ‘I have your briefing document. Looks like it’s all we need, but I’ll get in touch if I have questions. When this is over, Commander…’ He swallowed. ‘Jerry. When this is over, we should talk.’

The apprehension softened in Slater’s eyes. ‘Yes, Commander. I mean, Captain. It’s been a while.’

Rourke cut the comms there. Slater had always been dutiful and efficient, and it seemed like he’d carried these talents over to his work in intelligence, so that was no justification for the tension in Rourke’s throat. He had never known Slater to be an astonishing liar – yet so far as Rourke knew, Slater was sitting on the biggest of all possible secrets but looked satisfied, relieved even, at the idea of talking once this was over.

Which meant either Jeremiah Slater was a considerably more competent deceiver and snake than Rourke had ever known, or Rourke was operating on even more uncertainties than he realised. Including exactly which officer he could possibly trust to have his back in a Romulan prison camp.

The moment Rourke explained the mission to her and Valance said, ‘No,’ she knew this was a losing battle.

He had to have expected her objection, but still he scowled at her over the ready room desk. ‘This is a briefing, Commander, not a debate.’

‘I understand the current crisis necessitates extreme steps, sir. But I cannot let you infiltrate a Romulan prison camp without issuing severe objections,’ she said, staying on her feet and clasping her hands behind her back. ‘I don’t understand why I can’t go in your stead.’

‘You aren’t a trained infiltrator, Commander. I am. You have many talents, but leading a mission such as this simply isn’t one of them. Besides, if this mission goes sideways, there are decision-making factors you haven’t been briefed on.’

Valance had to acknowledge that just as he should have expected her objections, she should have expected this answer. ‘Who are you bringing with you?’

‘Dathan,’ said Rourke after a moment’s falter.

Literally the only member of the senior staff even halfway qualified who’s not in the brig. The answer did not reassure her much, but Valance wasn’t sure what possibly could have. ‘And our orders?’

‘Hold position after our rendezvous with the Pienem, and wait for our return.’

She had to force herself to not scowl. ‘And if something goes wrong? Am I again to get the ship out of danger?’

But Rourke sighed at that, fiddling with his PADD’s stylus. ‘My safety should not be your primary concern, if that’s what you’re asking. Your orders are to find Ephrath. Whatever it takes. If Argus falls beyond our reach, then you’ll have to get inventive. Use the time you’re waiting to see what support can go to Nate and Thawn on their analysis of the star charts.’

‘I will, but sir, that’s not my first priority.’ At his frown, she pressed on. ‘You cannot pursue this mission, this big picture – at Tagrador or Jhorkesh or wherever we go next – if the ship and the crew aren’t in one piece. It’s my responsibility to see to that, to make sure that we are a foundation you can rely on, because that is the one thing I can take off your plate right now.’ His gaze began to soften, and she grimaced. ‘But that does mean your safety is also my responsibility. As part of the crew. You may not want that to be my primary concern, but it is a concern. For me to watch your back as you look outward.’

His shoulders stooped with a guilty air. ‘I haven’t made that easy for you, have I, Commander, going against your wishes with some of these staff appointments.’

Frustration slipped between the cracks at that. ‘Lieutenant Thawn would not be my first choice of backup in a crisis, no.’

‘She might be so inexperienced and eager to please she holds back her true opinions. But she is also an excellent analyst and possibly the smartest person on the ship.’ Rourke sighed. ‘Nate Beckett is green and undisciplined, but once he gets a bit between his teeth he’s a highly original thinker. Arys is self-serious, but he is diligent. We don’t have the ideal staff, no, Commander. But unlikely people can excel if used properly. We need to use who we have, not who we wish we had. And we have to fight the battle in front of us, not the one we wished we were fighting.’

Valance opened her mouth to make an admission, only for something else entirely to come out. ‘These battles are rather tiring, sir. We’d barely recovered from one before we found another.’

His gaze dropped at that, and when Rourke spoke again it was back to a brisk, officious tone. ‘So it goes. Our rendezvous coordinates are in the briefing, Commander. Set us a course to meet the Pienem. I need to prepare with Lieutenant Dathan – and she and I both have an appointment in Sickbay.’

‘Of course.’ Valance’s lips twitched. ‘Enjoy the new eyebrows, sir.’

It was not until hours later, when they hummed at warp to the rendezvous and she was back in her quarters as Cortez poured wine for them both, that one of her unspoken questions finally found a voice. It just turned out to be Cortez’s voice.

‘He’s doing the exact same shit he pulled against the D’Ghor; why haven’t you called him on it, again?’

Valance rested her head back on the sofa and shut her eyes. ‘Because I’m not going to be another person letting him down.’

‘Is it letting him down, really, to challenge him when his behaviour is this… destructive? You’re his first officer; righting his wrongs is doing your job.’

‘I know my job,’ Valance snapped, but when she guiltily opened her eyes it was to find Cortez stood before her with the wine glasses, frozen in surprise. ‘I’m sorry. I understand what you’re saying. But that’s not how it is.’

Cortez took the seat across instead of joining her, sensitively keeping distance while they worked this through. ‘How is it, then?’

‘He has you and me, and then he has a barrage of green officers and two medical staff with no command training or experience. That’s it, that’s the senior staff of Endeavour.’ Valance glared at the bulkhead. ‘And that’s because Dav abandoned us. And because Kharth and Rhade let us down. And because…’

Cortez watched as she wrestled with words. ‘Because? When does this get to be your fault?’

Valance scoffed gently, because Cortez was right. She shook her head. ‘Because I was meant to keep everyone in-line at Teros, because I was even watching Kharth, and I failed. He’s right; I have to make the staff we have work, because the best way I can help him – the mission – is by keeping Endeavour running smoothly.’

There was a sigh from Cortez as she pushed a wine glass across the table to her. ‘Maybe,’ she accepted diplomatically. ‘But he’s still going hell-bent-for-leather and not looking at risks sensibly. Even if they’re just to himself.’

‘Yes,’ Valance conceded, staring at her hands. ‘Yes, I should do something about that.’

* *

‘You didn’t tell me about a new forehead, Captain,’ Dathan grumbled as Doctor Awan ran the tricorder over her face, taking precise scans in advance of the pending alterations.

‘The best disguises obfuscate notable features and create new ones,’ said Rourke from the biobed over. ‘The eye has to be drawn to things people won’t recognise. Changing the shape of the forehead and the brow goes a long way.’

‘Which is why you shaved?’

‘Which is why I shaved,’ he grumbled, running a hand over his smooth cheeks. ‘And now look baby-faced.’

Dathan thought that was a generous claim for a forty-three year-old man to make, but judiciously stayed quiet. For all of her experience, she had never undergone this process before, and an hour later she found herself sat on the same biobed but staring at a completely different face in the mirror. More than the ridged brow and altered eyebrows, Awan had given her a little more squareness to the jaw, adjusted the hue of her skin, altered her hair entirely, and now it was a Romulan that looked back at her.

‘I’m sure Carraway would have something to say about the psychological damage of not recognising yourself,’ she commented wryly.

‘There are reasons he’s not here,’ said Rourke. Dathan looked up to find his face was, perhaps, even stranger to see than her own, the medical staff clearly going to great pains to make the captain unrecognisable even to those familiar with him. ‘I’d rather we focus on the mission than keeping anyone else happy.’

It was the sort of sentiment she normally appreciated, but apprehension still wormed in her gut at such a dismissive attitude coming with the captain’s voice. ‘If that’s the case, why are you bringing me along?’ At his surprised look, she shrugged. ‘I’m an analyst. My records state as much.’

His expression twisted with wry suspicion. ‘Like hell are you just an analyst, Dathan. I don’t care what your records say. I’ve read Rhade’s report on how you fought alongside the Hazard Team in Archanis. You have the skill, and I need someone to watch my back.’

‘We haven’t exactly worked together much, though.’ She hesitated, then reasoned that if he was as desperate at this, he couldn’t bite her head off for speaking frankly. ‘Sir, you shouldn’t be bringing me. You should be bringing Lieutenant Kharth.’

He scowled at once. ‘I need someone I can trust to watch my back. And Lieutenant Kharth is in the brig.’

That wasn’t reassuring, Dathan thought. Even a cursory observation made it plain Kharth’s disobedience had been based on one order, rather than a reflection of some rift of distrust between security chief and captain. If this mission had such high stakes and justified violating so many norms and regulations, letting her out of the brig seemed a very minor compromise indeed. To what extent was Rourke letting his personal hurt override his professional judgement?

And if he was doing so about Lieutenant Kharth, what else was he doing it about?

So when she was back in her quarters, putting on the rough civilian garb and other finishing touches of her disguise, Dathan found herself opening a comm line to Counsellor Carraway. ‘I need you to do something while I’m gone,’ she said by way of greeting.

There was a pause at the bluntness, but Carraway’s amiable voice came back soon enough. ‘I can water your plants, sure.’

‘Funny. Check in with the Hazard Team.’ She stared at her reflection in the mirror, and suspected that it was not just the Romulan mask that was making her unrecognisable. ‘With Kowalski out of action and Rhade in the brig and Valance busy, they don’t have anyone looking out for them. Arys is part of the problem, and T’Kalla’s too angry and in the middle of it to step up.’

‘Why are you worrying about this when you’re about to embark on a very dangerous op?’

‘I definitely didn’t get in touch for some last-minute therapy.’ She turned away from the mirror. ‘Will you do it?’

‘Are you worried things will go wrong and you’ll need the Hazard Team?’

‘Asking that question suggests you are.’

There was a pause, and she suspected he was dissecting both sides of the exchange in a heartbeat, assessing what they were both really trying to say. She hated that, not just because he sometimes saw through her, but because he sometimes revealed things she herself hadn’t spotted. ‘From the little I know,’ he said, ‘there are a lot of parts of this mission that rest in invisible hands. Contacts other people know, assets other people secured. The Hazard Team is the fall-back you can personally rely on. But you don’t need to displace your worry about the job ahead onto their wellbeing.’

‘I said last-minute therapy -’

‘I believe in you and the captain, Tahla, and I know you can do this. But please do be careful.’

Dathan cast a cautious look over her shoulder at her reflection. Her eyes, she thought, should have been more familiar, at least. They shouldn’t have changed. She swallowed. ‘I’ll be careful. I’ll come back. Dathan out.’ She cut the comms, and did not think about how she’d never had to make that promise to anyone before.

* *

The Pienem was sleek for a cargo ship, shaped to make atmospheric flight easy, though Rourke suspected Romulan aesthetics had something to do with it. Her arrival at the rendezvous with Endeavour was punctual, dropping out of warp in the system a scant hour later than the starship herself. They had arranged to meet in close orbit of an OB-type star, the ionising radiation giving them some obfuscation from a passive sensor sweep.

‘If they agree, sir,’ said Valance as the dot that was the Pienem on the bridge sensor feed drifted to join them in orbit, ‘I’d like Lieutenant Thawn to have a quick look at their sensor records to be sure that they’ve not drawn any undue attention on their way here.’

Rourke gave her a level look, vexed at this last-minute suggestion, but her flat expression suggested that this was not a fight worth having. ‘If Captain Moradan is amenable, then, fine.’

Captain Moradan turned out to be not just amenable, but outright amiable when he and Dathan beamed aboard fifteen minutes later. What the Pienem had in sleek and modern exterior she made up for with rather cantankerous innards, and Rourke had to suspect the payment for a civilian contractor for the Romulan Navy was hardly generous.

‘Your computer lady was very polite,’ said Moradan as he led them down dingy corridors from the transporter room to the freighter’s cockpit. He was a husky Romulan man, smooth of forehead but broad of frame, and spoke with the accent Rourke had come to expect of those of his people who spent their lives at the frontiers. ‘Not just looking out for us – and I know, I know, checking in on us. But she tidied up a few bugs that had been in our nav computer for the last year! I couldn’t afford a programmer to fix it, and here she is, already getting to work and says she’ll be done before we’re underway.’

It was rather like Thawn, Rourke thought, to conduct a security check and end up fixing somebody’s bad navigation systems. That she’d been polite at all was remarkable. ‘Glad we can do you a favour, on top of our mutual friends looking after you.’

‘Don’t worry, Captain,’ chuckled Moradan. ‘Nothing interesting happens on this ship, so I assure you, we’re being looked after.’

The Pienem only had four crew, and only one of them helped the captain fly from the bridge, so there was room for Rourke to step to the comms panel once they were up there. Bright light flooded through the canopy from the nearby star, obfuscating the dirt and grime of the gloomy interior and all their deeds with a veneer of shining gold. ‘Rourke to Endeavour. We’re aboard and ready to be underway as soon as Lieutenant Thawn’s satisfied.’

His XO’s face popped up on a small, low-quality screen. ‘Acknowledged, Captain. Give us ten minutes and we’ll let you get started. We’ll hold here and see you back soon.’

‘Ten minutes,’ Rourke confirmed, hanging up. He was not particularly surprised when Thawn was ready in eight.

Moradan dismissed his co-pilot once they were at warp, the three of them sitting in the cramped and uncomfortable freighter bridge. ‘So, anything I need to know about the ne’er do well we’re liberating?’

Dathan shifted on her chair. ‘Isn’t it better if you don’t know much?’

‘Lady, if I get captured, this is already so bad it can’t get any worse.’

‘Then why are you doing this?’

Moradan waved a hand about the grubby interior. ‘It’ll pay for the professional valeting job.’

‘We’re only after a smuggler,’ said Rourke quietly. ‘Nobody dangerous. Nobody you need to worry about going on to hurt anyone.’

‘That does help,’ Moradan admitted, then sat up. ‘So, way it’ll go is easy. We set down as per usual, and you two go back to help the others unload. You’ve had maps of the place, right?’

‘Land within the outer walls, we set down on landing pad B, adjacent to the storage facilities and with a guarded courtyard between those and Detention Block F,’ Dathan reeled off.

He blinked at her. ‘Right. Our friend on the inside will bring your guy into the storage facility. Shove him in a box. Wheel him back out. Your part’s easy.’

Rourke tilted his head. ‘You have a part?’

‘Talking with the duty officer so he doesn’t get too nosey.’ Moradan smirked. ‘Listen, it’s more than their time’s worth to look twice at a supply ship that does this run every fortnight. But the last thing you want is some jobsworth sticking his nose in the storage room and finding you shoving your man in a box, right? I can talk anyone’s ear off about nothing, me.’

‘I believe you,’ said Rourke with a tight smile.

Moradan laughed. ‘Then you load your box back on the ship, and we hi-tail it back. In and out within a day.’ He glanced at them both. ‘They’ll check you when you land. Make sure you’re unarmed, so don’t bring any phasers or fancy Starfleet gadgets. Last thing you want is to draw attention for a serious scan. Keep it simple.’

‘Sure,’ said Dathan rather flatly. ‘Simple.’

They dropped out of warp a while later. Rourke had positioned himself to keep an eye on the sensors the whole way, and was relieved to find they were crossing the border in a quiet region, with little sign of any other ships at all, let alone naval vessels. The standard security buoys flagged them, with Moradan giving the correct codes, commenting the whole thing was so automated in this region that someone would have to directly study the logs for themselves to find the Pienem’s presence odd. Only on long-range sensors did Rourke spot any patrol boats, the sort of ships expecting to face the calibre of raiding or smuggling ships that operated along this border.

Tagrador prison camp was located on a moon around the fifth planet, a patch of murky green hovering above the bilious gold and orange of a gas giant. They were hailed the moment they approached the moon, Moradan laughing his way through his identification and exchange with the comms officer, whom he seemed to recognise.

‘Get yourselves down to the cargo bay. You’ll have to do maybe a half-hour’s honest work before this is over,’ he told them with a grin as he hung up.

Dathan followed Rourke as they trooped back through the grimy belly of the Pienem. ‘Does our pilot take anything seriously?’

‘I expect he takes this very seriously, considering it’ll be his neck if it goes wrong,’ Rourke pointed out. ‘Surely you’ve realised some people hide nerves with humour.’

‘Sure.’ She sounded like she wanted to say more, but didn’t.

The Pienem rattled as it descended through the atmosphere, Rourke forced to grab hold of the webbing keeping one of their cargo crates secure. Nausea swam in his gut, and he’d lived in space long enough to know it wasn’t the flying. For all he’d assured Valance this would be fine, for all he’d insisted he had the training for this, his experience was limited to talking his way close enough to crime gangs to learn what he needed before an arrest followed. Not only had he not really done this for the better part of fifteen years, but the stakes had always been different. There’d never been diplomatic fallout if he’d been caught.

Then again, double-crossing the Orion Syndicate didn’t have better consequences than infiltrating the Romulan Star Empire.

Thunder rumbled overhead as the loading ramp of the Pienem finally swung down. Moradan had joined them in the cargo bay after landing and he led them down into the torrential downpour that hailed their arrival to Tagrador prison camp. Bright overhead lights shone on the landing pad, grime and deceit smothered now with silver instead of gold, and a trio of figures awaited them. Rourke’s chest eased at that. If the prison commander thought something was amiss, they would not have sent a bureaucrat and two guards.

‘Sublieutenant!’ Moradan disembarked with arms stretched wide. ‘Always a nice day for it!’

‘Captain Moradan. Your people know what they’re doing?’

‘Storage over there? Right you are.’ Moradan gestured at Dathan and Rourke, and they began unloading. As they passed the captain, he was waving a thoughtful finger around and saying, ‘You know, Sublieutenant, on the way in, we did notice something a bit odd about a cargo ship moving towards the Qiris sector…’

‘I sure hope his small-talk is better than it sounds,’ Dathan grumbled as they pushed the crate on its sled towards the storage facility. It looked like they had come down as expected on the landing pad at the south side of the prison camp, close to the perimeter wall. Beyond it were the squat storage buildings and within the central ring sat the detention facilities themselves. Over the wall he could see tall trees of a jungle that had likely invited the rain, though it bore more of a chill than Rourke had expected from such a climate. Had there been better light, he suspected the stark concrete and metal of the prison camp’s construction would have been a blight on the landscape. As it was, he was already cold and wet, and so focused more on getting into the storage facility, sheltered and dry and, above all, free of any prying eyes.

‘That’s one crate,’ sighed Dathan. ‘We really do have to unload the lot, don’t we.’

‘Until this guard shows up with Argus… yep.’

But ten minutes later they had brought the last of the Pienem’s cargo, the crates set before the racks of equipment and supplies, and there was no movement.

Dathan looked like she was trying to not pace. ‘He should be here by now.’

Rourke wanted to tell her to calm down, but he couldn’t find the words to convince himself, let alone her. ‘Then one of us needs to go looking.’

‘One of us?’

‘The other needs to work with Moradan to fabricate an excuse for the Pienem sticking around longer.’

‘I go back and lie while you… what, sir, wander around the prison camp trying to bust a Tellarite out of a cell and proclaim to be lost if someone challenges you?’

‘I’ll make up something better than that,’ he insisted. ‘Don’t pretend like you’re about to have it any easier.’

‘Oh, I don’t. There really are only so many ways I can explain why my colleague has vanished and our supply ship can’t take off as planned.’ But Dathan’s lips settled to a thin, unimpressed line. ‘If we leave now, the Romulans don’t have to know their security was compromised. We can try something else.’

‘We’re here. We’re in the camp. I’m not turning back now,’ Rourke insisted.

‘Sir -’

But before he could cut her off, something else did – the roar of engines from the landing pad, and they exchanged horrified looks before rushing back out and into the thundering rain of Tagrador prison camp. They were just in time to see the Pienem rise into the shrouded skies above, and within a heartbeat it disappeared into the swirling black clouds.

Next to him, Dathan’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh, Kosst,’ she swore. ‘He ditched us.’

‘I’m afraid not!’ Through the lashing rain and into the ring of bright light suffusing the landing pad stepped ten figures, and Rourke’s heart shot to his stomach at the sight of the fully-equipped Romulan soldiers. At the head of them walked an officer in a uniform that gleamed in the rainstorm, straight-backed and narrow-featured, and it was his voice that reached them. ‘Abandoning you would suggest he was ever with you.’

Rourke slowly lifted his hands as the rifles were levelled at them, and swallowed bile. Rain cascaded down his face, off his jacket. ‘Moradan sold us out.’

‘Captain Moradan is a worm,’ said the officer encased in the spotlight, and now Rourke could see a commander’s pips on his uniform. ‘He might have done as you’d asked, but then he found out who you were, and decided loyalty would pay better. He was right. Welcome to Tagrador prison, Captain Rourke.’

Valance never worked from the captain’s ready room. After Captain MacCallister’s incapacitation she had been unwilling to intrude on the office, as if it were presuming to replace him before the decision was made. Rourke’s succession had only confirmed that the ready room was not hers, would never be hers, and so in his absence she had again set herself up in the conference room.

It was there that Thawn found her, and Valance’s gaze clouded at her acting first officer leaving the bridge without warning to speak in person. ‘What’s happened?’

Thawn twisted her fingers. ‘The Pienem has departed Tagrador at high warp. They aren’t heading in our direction.’

Valance gestured her to the wall display panel. ‘Let’s take a look.’ As she watched, Thawn patched them through to her computer access and got to work. Their discoveries did not improve, and after a moment, Valance reached for the comms. ‘Lindgren, I want you to run a scan on incoming and outgoing communications from Tagrador prison camp over the last hour and compare it to the last twenty-four. I don’t need you to intercept anything, but I want to know if there’s been a lot of noise.’

Thawn nodded, lips thin. ‘I was wondering if we -’

‘Hold that thought,’ said Valance, and ignored the disappointed look she got as she summoned Cortez.

Five minutes later she had Lindgren’s report and the Chief Engineer, who put her hands on her hips with some confusion. ‘Hold on; how are we monitoring the Pienem or Tagrador’s comms from here?’

Thawn’s look of hurt did not improve. ‘Did everyone really believe I offered to debug Captain Moradan’s systems out of the fastidious goodness of my heart?’

‘I asked Lieutenant Thawn to secure access to the Pienem’s computer and give us a back door so we could monitor them,’ Valance said levelly. ‘The captain didn’t know.’

‘So he couldn’t betray what he doesn’t know, or so he couldn’t argue?’

Valance ignored that. ‘The Pienem is still heading deeper into Imperial space, so their sensor feed is more and more useless. But a check of their internal sensors confirms only four crew aboard, all Romulan, and just as they left Lindgren says there was a massive surge in outgoing and incoming communications from the prison camp.’

‘Shit,’ said Cortez. ‘They got caught? Then why is this conversation just us?’

‘Because we still have a highly unseasoned staff,’ said Valance levelly, ‘and I want to be sure of our next step before dropping this torpedo.’ She turned to Thawn. ‘You’ve been continuing work with Beckett to find Ephrath. I need you to speak plainly, Lieutenant: can you find it?’

Thawn grimaced. ‘We have a theory,’ she said after a moment. ‘More information is coming in all the time as galactic records of the Tkon are consulted and expanded, so based off what we’re starting to learn about the movement of the stars and the progressive movements of Ephrath -’

‘This isn’t plainly, Lieutenant.’

‘I – sorry, Commander. We think it’s in the Velorum Nebula. Which is actually very big, and sensor range in the nebula is reportedly very poor, so…’

‘So, no,’ said Cortez rather more gently, jumping in to spare her. ‘No, we don’t have a lead that isn’t Argus and the rest of his collection.’

Valance nodded, scowling at the wall display still showing their sensor feed from the Pienem as it soared further and further away from them, away from Tagrador. She straightened. ‘Then I’m going to meet Juarez and Arys and put together a rescue plan.’

Cortez sucked her teeth at that. ‘Endeavour’s crossing the border, or will we be trying to sneak the King Arthur all the way to Tagrador?’

Thawn winced. ‘We don’t know if the captain and Dathan are alive or dead, Commander – we don’t know if they’re still on Tagrador, or where in the prison camp they might -’

‘I know,’ said Valance flatly.

‘The Pienem contacted them on a secure channel when they arrived in the system,’ Thawn continued, as if she hadn’t heard the warning tone. ‘It’s possible I could bounce a signal to obscure its origin and use what we learnt from the Pienem to gain access to Tagrador’s systems and find out -’

‘No.’ Valance straightened, jaw tight. ‘We have one advantage here, and one advantage only: until they miss the rendezvous, the Romulans have no reason to suspect we’ve been alerted to the captain’s capture. I want it to stay that way until we know when we’re moving and how. Go back to monitoring the Pienem, Lieutenant, and hold the bridge.’

Monitoring the Pienem would increasingly be an exercise in futility, and Thawn looked like she knew it. But she didn’t argue any further, merely giving a sheepish nod and leaving.

Cortez turned back with a wince. ‘She makes a point.’

‘Thawn will fuss over every single unknown variable in every single crisis,’ Valance grumbled, bringing up Rourke’s mission briefing data on her PADD. ‘She works best when she’s given direct goals, not left to problem solve on a big-picture scale like this.’

‘I hate to point this out, but she’s your XO right now.’

Valance rolled her eyes. ‘You’re my XO right now. Not just because if something happens to me, there’s no way Endeavour can fall under the command of Lieutenant Junior Grade Rosara Thawn. But it’s your judgement and advice I’m going to need here.’

Cortez’s expression folded to deeper apprehension. ‘In what world am I that much more use for planning how we infiltrate Romulan space and break the captain out of a prison camp?’

‘You’re more use than the rest,’ Valance grumbled, bringing up the aerial shots of Tagrador they’d been provided with and comparing them with what they’d taken from the Pienem’s recent journey. ‘Even Juarez is a tactical officer first and foremost; he’s a weapons systems specialist. And Arys is bright and capable, a qualified bridge officer, high in his Academy class, all that great potential – but he’s hardly the most seasoned pair of hands for our Hazard Team.’

‘So it’s those two you want figuring out our prison break plan,’ Cortez said awkwardly, ‘and not the two in our brig.’

Valance’s head snapped up with a baleful edge. ‘The last thing this crew needs is for Rhade to be self-righteous and for Kharth to ignore orders as she sees fit.’

A beat passed as Cortez bit her lip, obviously mulling something over. When she spoke, it sounded like these were not her first choice of words. ‘Speaking of doing as one sees fit, I notice nowhere in this have you mentioned contacting Command.’

‘I want to know more first,’ said Valance, looking back at the briefing PADD.

‘Even when they might know more? When the Director of Fourth Fleet Intelligence might possibly have more information? Or are you afraid he’ll order you to not do this?’

There was not, Valance thought as she scrolled through the information, as much intelligence here as she’d like on the interior of the prison camp. But when she looked back up, Cortez’s eyes were still on her. ‘What do you want me to say?’

Cortez sighed. ‘I’m pointing out that we’re playing pretty fast and loose with the rules right now anyway. But still, calling you on that is the sort of thing your number one should be doing. And that’s not me.’ She stepped back, hands raised. ‘I’ll go make sure the ship’s ready for us to hit top speed. Got a feeling we might need it.’

Valance rubbed her eyes as she left, swallowing down on frustration. She had spent long enough mastering her feelings, especially anger, that taking all that raging fire inside and encasing it in ice was second nature by now. It did not help that Cortez had made it her mission to thaw her, however, and it was unusual for her to do so professionally. But that was not a luxury she could afford.

She tapped her combadge. ‘Valance to Juarez and Arys. Report to the conference room.’

* *

He didn’t know how long he’d been down here in the dark. By the time he heard the hiss of the door, light spilling in to blind him, he could have been in the cell for ten minutes, ten hours, ten days. Rourke pushed himself up, trying to not lift a hand to guard his eyes, trying to not look as wretched as he felt, and when the silhouetted figure stepped in, cell lights gleamed to a dim level as the door shut behind them.

‘Captain Rourke.’ It was the same voice as before, the officer from the landing pad. ‘My name is Commander Lotharn. I hope you understand why you’re here.’ They were crisp tones, educated and confident, devoid of any warmth.

Rourke cleared his throat. ‘Because you caught me. Is it more complicated than that?’

As his eyes adjusted, they soaked up more details of the Romulan commander before him, tall and austere, flat of brow and severe of feature. But there was little emotion in the dark gaze that raked over him, and Lotharn spoke on, soft, cautious. ‘Perhaps not. I must say that I was surprised to learn you’d participate in an infiltration yourself. The Omega outbreak truly has changed Starfleet.’

Rourke was sat on the low metal bunk in the cramped cell, and kept his movements slow as he stood to be level with Lotharn. ‘I’m not giving you anything on Omega, on Starfleet operations, or why I’m here.’ He shrugged with a dismissal he didn’t feel. ‘Sorry.’

‘Captain, I’m not interrogating you. This would be very different if I were. I’m a little curious, for certain, but my responsibility is to lay the situation out for you.’ Lotharn tilted his head an inch. ‘You were wanted for crimes against the Romulan people with your cold-blooded destruction of the IRW Erem. When your associate Moradan discovered he had been hired to escort you into our territory, he realised the bounty would pay better than his Starfleet contacts. I was dispatched to apprehend you. My ship is on its way; when it arrives, we’ll transfer aboard and you will be taken to stand trial for your crimes.’

Rourke bit the inside of his cheek. ‘And my officer?’

‘Is a spy.’ Lotharn shrugged. ‘She will be treated accordingly. Perhaps.’

‘I see. Unless I tell you something useful.’

‘You’re after this prisoner, this smuggler, the Tellarite called Argus.’ Lotharn squinted. ‘What possible value does he have?’

Rourke scoffed. ‘I’m not telling you that.’

‘See, the transformation to Starfleet since Omega erupted has been fascinating. All of a sudden you reinforce your borders, forcibly displace your own citizens, and destroy defenceless ships. Suddenly you understand the meaning of efficiency. Except for now.’ Lotharn’s gaze narrowed. ‘A captain like you personally leading away missions – here, Jhorkesh – is on the one hand an extreme step which matches Starfleet’s recent agenda. But it is not efficient. I have to conclude Argus is relevant to the crisis in some way.’

Rourke said nothing, rolling a shoulder and staring at the bulkhead.

Lotharn gave a frustrated sigh. ‘And here we are, dancing around these issues like they are military secrets which would give one a strategic edge, instead of resolutions to a crisis of galactic proportions. Starfleet will do everything to resolve the crisis except for share knowledge, apparently?’

‘You first.’

Lotharn’s lips twisted. ‘I don’t define policy. But it is odd, isn’t it, that our governments will make these fresh demands of us, tell us the stakes are higher than ever before, but the compromises made will never threaten their hegemony. Sacrifice your honour, Captain; sacrifice enemy lives, sacrifice even your own liberty. But never sacrifice the supremacy of the United Federation of Planets. Or the Romulan Star Empire.’

‘If you’re that dissatisfied and want to defect,’ said Rourke wryly, ‘we can talk.’

‘You destroyed the Erem in the name of stopping this crisis, correct? Destroying the Omega molecule wherever it was found?’ Rourke did not answer, unsure in the moment how to deflect, and Lotharn seemed to take that as confirmation. ‘You’re here in the name of stopping this crisis. You’ll do a lot to stop it. But not share information which my government – which I – might use to resolve it.’

‘That’s not my decision.’ Rourke’s jaw tightened. ‘And don’t act like we’re holding back knowledge your government would only use to stop Omega. The Erem was sent to secure the molecule for your own purposes – somewhere far away from your borders, your people, where you could do as you pleased without risking lives you valued.’

Lotharn gave a soft scoff. ‘If we’re talking self-delusion, Captain, don’t act like the Federation cares about the lives of refugees like those at Teros. Your government had every opportunity to prove otherwise. The moral high-ground there is not yours.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t expect you to give up your secrets. We aren’t about to surrender ours, either. But without an exchange, I cannot justify to my superiors doing anything with your officer except having her executed as a spy.’

Again Rourke said nothing, had nothing but the fluttering tension in his chest.

‘But duty forbids sharing secrets,’ Lotharn mused. ‘Just as duty demanded you kill my people. Just as duty demands I keep you captive instead of letting you pursue your crusade against Omega, and duty demands I condemn your officer. All the rules crumble in the face of annihilation, don’t they, except for the ones maintained by those who never have to look that destruction in the eye?’

‘Are you asking me to make it different?’ said Rourke, looking him in the eye. ‘Or are we just philosophising now?’

‘I was curious,’ admitted Lotharn, ‘about a Starfleet captain who threw away those rules to kill fifty-three of my people. If he regretted it, if he’d justified it, if he’d been suddenly permitted to make all the decisions he always wanted to make.’ In Rourke’s silence, the Romulan straightened. ‘I don’t want to kill your officer,’ he admitted after a moment. ‘But one of us has to make the first step. You need to answer for what you’ve done, because otherwise the politicians will have their way and maybe, eventually, the Federation will give us weak gestures of apology and we will pretend words are justice. You are my enemy, because you have killed my people. She is not, because she came here seeking solutions.’

‘That makes me your enemy because I followed the rules that bound me, and killed your comrades,’ said Rourke in a low voice. ‘It sounds like you would be doing very little different if you killed her because you could not justify sparing her.’

‘Then tell me why you want this Argus,’ said Lotharn, voice equally low, ‘and maybe the best thing for the galaxy is to let her leave with him. But I cannot trust you, Rourke.’

Blood hammered in Rourke’s ears, sounding like his heart was thudding against the cell walls and shadowed corners. But then his throat loosened, and he gave a short, self-effacing laugh. ‘Shit,’ he breathed. ‘That was a good play. I was almost tempted there.’

But Lotharn did not smile. ‘By the time your people realise you’re not coming back, you’ll be far from here. You will face justice for the lives you’ve taken, Rourke. But we are in a crisis, and I am not “playing.”’ He turned away and the cell door hissed open before him, giving Rourke a glimpse of nothing more than a long, metal corridor. He could have been anywhere, he thought, and wouldn’t have known.

‘You have until we leave. Knowledge for your officer’s life, and maybe even her mission. Think of it as the last chance to do your duty beyond merely what the rules state,’ said Lotharn, not looking back, and he left before Rourke could summon a dismissive reply. The lights remained on, dim and painting him and metal in shrouded bronze. He was being watched, almost for certain.

But that still could not stop him from sinking onto the bunk, head in his hands, and sit and wait and hope for nothing more than the darkness to swallow him before reality’s bleak hands grasped him again.

* *

‘If we can maintain a continuous sensor feed from the ground team,’ said Juarez, gesturing to the diagram on the conference room main display, ‘then Endeavour can provide fire support from orbit against any weapon emplacements.’

Thawn made a face at that before Valance could comment, and said in a prim voice, ‘We’re still unclear on the location of any such emplacements, and the location of the captain and Lieutenant Dathan. Orbit to surface weaponry seems… risky.’

Juarez hesitated. ‘I’m confident I can calibrate our systems accordingly, Lieutenant.’

Valance lifted a hand. ‘Let’s come to that later. That’s how we give the King Arthur a clear route to the prison camp. From there, Ensign?’

Arys looked less confident. ‘As the Lieutenant says, we don’t have a precise idea of where the captain’s being held, but we do know where Argus was likely held. We’ll start with a sweep of that block, and interrogate any guards we encounter…’

It was hard for her to stop his words becoming a low buzz as her heart sank lower and lower with every sentence. Merely minutes later, it was her turn to interrupt, that same hand raising. ‘Gentlemen, this rescue operation can only go ahead with the right plan. Suffice to say: you don’t have it. I’m sorry. Go back to planning. There are too many variables.’

Juarez’s usually confident manner deflated, but he slapped his PADD into his hand and turned to Arys. ‘Alright, let’s go bring in the rest of the HT, I guess. Come at this from some more angles?’

Valance watched as they left, Juarez rallying, Arys cringing even more into himself, and only by Thawn’s presence did she stop herself from burying her face in her hands. Instead she said, in a clipped voice, ‘Do you see a way through these unanswered questions, Lieutenant?’ as if it were a learning experience and not an admission of how daunting the task before them was.

Thawn did not answer for a long moment, and when she did, her voice was very small. ‘Are you asking me as Chief of Operations, Commander, or as acting first officer?’

‘Does that matter?’

‘It matters if you want my analysis as the systems manager of Endeavour, assessing what the ship can bring to bear to resolve the operational challenges we’re facing. Because if that’s the only grounds on which you’ll listen to me, that stops either of us wasting our time trying anything else.’

Valance turned in her chair, startled at the closest thing to insubordination she’d heard from the young officer before. ‘Lieutenant, I wanted your opinion.’

‘Commander, I know you didn’t want me in this position.’ Thawn was sat very straight, as if a professional posture could compensate for impertinent words. ‘I know you think I’m not ready, because I know you think I won’t say anything you haven’t thought of. So if you don’t like what I’m about to say, perhaps it is best you formally instate Commander Cortez.’

‘Lieutenant…’

‘So I may as well act as first officer and tell you the thing that you clearly don’t want to hear, because I don’t know how this can get worse,’ Thawn rushed on, speaking as if going very quickly would make this less bad. ‘This mission needs Lieutenant Kharth.’

Valance scowled. ‘Lieutenant Kharth has disobeyed orders and been confined to the bridge.’

‘Commander, I, perhaps of anyone on the senior staff, understand and perhaps share your opinion of her the most. Certainly personally, which is why I can tell you with absolutely no satisfaction that I think you’re letting that opinion cloud your professional assessment of her and of this situation. If we’re to have any hope of rescuing the captain, you need to get past these feelings, go down to the brig, and get Lieutenant Kharth running this operation.’

She stood before Valance could answer, the older woman a hair’s breadth from her jaw dropping to the floor, and Thawn picked up her PADDs with a prim air. ‘I’m going to go and run the numbers again on Juarez’s calculations. He is an excellent tactical officer. His assessment might be more precise than mine.’

Valance’s mute gaze followed her out, then she was left alone once more in the conference room, with nothing but a half-baked plan and an unwelcome truth. She stared at the wall display, on which still shone the underwhelming operational proposal from Juarez and Arys. And sighed.

‘…shit.’

Saeihr Kharth had never spent this long in the brig. On either side of the forcefield.

It was a testament to how personally Captain Rourke had taken their disobedience that she and Rhade hadn’t been confined to quarters, but instead condemned to the drudgery of little company but each other and the bulkheads for days – weeks? – on end. At first she’d been resistant to Rhade’s company, too busy feeling embittered and sorry for herself and so, as was her wont, taking it out on the nearest person.

By the end of the fifth day, she was sick enough of it that they’d settled into an uneasy detente – uneasy for her, at least, because Adamant Rhade was taking the experience with the same courteous patience he irritatingly applied to everything. Two days on she’d let him cajole Lieutenant Vakkis into giving them a couple of gaming boards. That became a decision she was by this, the approximately umpteenth day, beginning to regret.

‘Knight to F2,’ said Rhade.

Kharth glared at her board. ‘Which knight?’

‘The one which can legally move to F2,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Checkmate.’

‘It’s not checkmate, I can – piss.’ With a flick, she knocked down her king. ‘Stupid game.’

‘It is, unfortunately, one of the easier to play in these circumstances.’

They were both sat on the decks of their respective cells, separate game boards before them. Kharth sighed, sagging back against the bunk and shutting her eyes. ‘Who do you think’s going to come and yell at you next?’

He was already setting up his board in the mistaken belief she wanted another thrashing. ‘I would object. But it does seem as if I’m taking the majority of the tongue-lashings.’

‘Don’t take it personally. The people who are pissed at me are too livid to abuse me in person.’ Again. She popped an eye open. ‘I was surprised by Dathan.’

‘I think she surprised herself. But that is her business.’

Kharth made a frustrated noise. ‘When we’re stuck down here, your refusal to engage in even the slightest gossip looks like less and less of a virtue.’

‘If people wanted to you to know about these conversations, Lieutenant, they would have them in front of you,’ he pointed out.

‘Fine. Give me something, then. You owe me.’

‘You’ll need to elaborate on both of those counts.’

She bit her lip. For days she had sat in silence on this issue, because for all of her guilt and all of her doubt, the last thing she wanted to do was compound her misdeeds by manipulating the only person she was convinced in all of this was still a good man. She had not anticipated boredom, of all things, would try her patience. ‘We’ve talked politics. Ethics. History. Tactics. Chess. Far, far too much chess. We need a new topic. Your personal life is presently much, much more interesting than mine.’ At his uncertain gaze, she shrugged. ‘Fine. Explain Betazoid arranged marriages to me, because they sound very… not-Federation.’

Rhade grimaced. ‘Nobody is legally forced to do anything,’ he said quickly. ‘Our families believed we would be a good match, introduced us, and have encouraged us to build a life together at some point. If either of us becomes determined to dissolve the arrangement, we may do so.’

‘My family experiences may not be universal, but I’m pretty sure that’s an optimistic view of how social pressure works. And what if you meet someone else?’

His brow furrowed. ‘What if? If they’re someone else around whom a life – a home, a career, a support structure – would be built, then some compromise may be reached. But the arranged marriage need not be monogamous.’

‘Oh.’ Kharth felt a little stupid. ‘See, if someone had told me that, this whole thing would have been spicier.’

‘It’s private business,’ Rhade reminded her gently. ‘My life, and the life of Lieutenant Thawn, with whom you have certainly fallen out. It’s not there to be “spicy gossip.”’ He finished setting up his chess board, then looked up at her. ‘I am surprised Commander Airex did not visit you before he left.’

‘I guess we’re playing more chess,’ she said.

A day later they’d traded the chess board for packs of card, thoroughly failed to find games to be played across a forcefield, and at the end of a botched experiment he said, ‘I’m sorry.’

There were a lot of things, she thought, he could be talking about. Then again, she probably owed him several apologies. ‘Your turn to elaborate.’

Rhade drew a slow breath. ‘You would take the captain’s offer, wouldn’t you. Admit fault, take a black mark on your record, and return to duty. But it doesn’t work if only one of us does that.’

She focused on shuffling her cards. ‘Guess I have a different perspective to you. What’s one more black mark?’

‘I was surprised when I heard of your disciplinary record and your reputation. It doesn’t match what I’ve seen of you.’

‘You didn’t know me before. I got… probably more lee-way than I should. Poor little refugee girl, Starfleet better give her a chance, be tolerant of her trouble acclimatising.’ Kharth rolled her eyes. ‘I had a little difficulty adapting to regulations I thought were getting in the way of helping people.’

‘That changed?’

‘I got older. I got a taste of the responsibility of making the decisions, where you have to pay attention to the bigger picture instead of the problem in front of you.’ I met Dav, who made it impossible to ignore nuance, consequences, implications. She shrugged. ‘I don’t know if I did the right thing at Teros. I don’t know if the captain did the right thing, if Valance did the right thing. I don’t know. So don’t you dare compromise your principles and certainty for me. I’d rather we both go down swinging with only one sense of righteousness between us.’

He watched her for a long moment, dark eyes absorbing. ‘I think you have better instincts than you give yourself credit for, Lieutenant.’

My instincts would have sold Teros to monsters. ‘Let’s find another card game.’

When Commander Valance came down to the brig for the first time some days later, they had gone back to chess and Kharth was getting beaten so badly she was almost happy to see the XO.

The feeling was plainly not mutual. ‘Lieutenant Kharth.’ Valance stopped before her forcefield, and visibly hesitated. ‘I need you out of this cell.’

Kharth stood, needlessly dusting off her hands. ‘That’s the captain’s call.’

Valance’s jaw set. ‘Captain Rourke was on an operation with Lieutenant Dathan in Romulan space. It went wrong. They’ve been captured. I need you back on-duty to plan a rescue operation.’

Kharth exchanged a startled look with Rhade. ‘Hell. Alright.’

‘You’ll report to the brig when you’re off-duty,’ Valance pressed on, clasping her hands behind her back. ‘And Lieutenant Juarez will supervise your activities on duty. You’re not reinstated as Chief of Security, merely as operational command.’

‘Are you – are we actually doing this? Are you actually quibbling over this right now?’

‘Captain Rourke has a very specific arrangement with Starfleet JAG for the circumstances under which you can be properly released, Lieutenant, and these circumstances are not -’

Kharth stared. ‘You’re in enough of a crisis that you need me – which looks like it’s physically hurting you – but you still hate me so much you’re going to waste Juarez’s time like this.’

Valance’s expression folded to a scowl. ‘I don’t hate you, Lieutenant. We’ve worked together long enough to manage our personal differences.’

‘I thought that, but -’ Kharth cocked her head. ‘Oh, I see. You blame me for Airex leaving.’

‘I blame you for Teros.’ But Valance drew a level, calming breath. ‘As I said. The arrangement for your release is specific, and I am already pushing the boundaries of -’

‘I’ll take the deal.’

Both women turned as Rhade’s quiet voice rumbled between them. The broad-shouldered Betazoid wore a troubled frown, but he gave a firm nod at their looks. ‘Our release and reinstatement in exchange for unchallenged acceptance of our commanding officer’s disciplinary measures. The effective acknowledgement of blame.’

Kharth’s jaw dropped. ‘Rhade…’

‘Our people need us here and now, Lieutenant. Commander Valance is angry at you, but that’s not why she’s pushing these restrictions; they truly are needed to justify a temporary release,’ he pressed on, and from Valance’s frown Kharth wasn’t sure if Rhade was accurately reading her or not. ‘We have to put all of our personal feelings aside right now, and that includes about Teros. Standing our ground means very little if we can’t do the right thing by the people who rely on us.’

The relief that finally crossed Valance’s face was palpable. ‘At damned last. We have a lot of work ahead of us, Lieutenants.’

* *

News of the reinstatement of Kharth and Rhade had spread across the ship like wildfire, reinvigorating the apprehensive and demoralised crew. Even Arys’s first response had been relief, but he didn’t know if it was relief that they would lead the rescue mission or that he wouldn’t have to.

A briefing with the Hazard Team had nevertheless appeared in his schedule, which he’d stared at with some apprehension until he’d received a summons to speak with Lieutenant Rhade an hour beforehand. They met down in the Hazard Team’s briefing room, the Betazoid sitting in the front row and plainly encouraging a relaxed tone that Arys could not bring himself to match.

‘I’m glad you’re back, Lieutenant,’ Arys said as he stood before him, hands clasped behind his back.

Rhade looked him up and down, expression more sympathetic than Arys liked. ‘It’s no reflection on you, Ensign.’

‘It is; this wouldn’t happen if I were your equal as a combat commander. But you have almost ten years’ of experience on me, so I don’t take it personally.’

‘Good. I read the report on Jhorkesh.’

Arys winced. ‘I – I do take full responsibility for what happened -’

‘That’s not what this is about, Ensign; at ease.’ Rhade gave a gentle, reassuring smile. ‘You were a new leader in a fast-changing and high-stakes operation. But by all accounts you kept your head and kept moving. That’s important.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Arys, by now entirely unsure what was going on.

‘With Chief Kowalski out of action, I’m down a team member. But you proved yourself at Jhorkesh, Ensign, and I’ll happily have you at Tagrador if you’re willing.’ Rhade watched as he hesitated. ‘It’s an offer, not an order. The briefing’s in an hour; report back here if you’re in, and if not, tell me. I have options.’

‘I… yes, sir.’ Arys squirmed. ‘I have a staff meeting to attend on.’

He fair fled the briefing room, heart thudding in his chest. The memory of the accusing eyes of Baranel, of T’Kalla, made the idea of returning in an hour unthinkable – but the fact his alternative was duties the like of which he was about to perform at a staff meeting, of making sure reports and updates made it to the right people, brought a different kind of nausea at the sickening cowardice of it all. If he couldn’t face the Hazard Team, how could he fight alongside them? If he didn’t, what use was he?

None of this was helped when the turbolift doors slid open to show Ensign Beckett, the younger and more irresponsible officer heading to a senior staff meeting to give his input as Chief Science Officer while he, Arys, might as well have been fetching the biscuits.

But Beckett’s gaze was apprehensive as he joined him in the turbolift. ‘Arys.’

‘Ensign. Bridge.’

A beat of silence passed, then Beckett clicked his tongue. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘Jhorkesh sucked. No two ways about it.’

Arys stared at the wall. ‘I don’t need your pity.’

‘My pity? I was – what’re you on about?’

‘What’re you on about?’

‘I was gonna say – and don’t faint – maybe you were a bit right to suggest I needed to buck up before going in with the captain. What did you think I was doing?’ But before Arys could scrabble together an evasion, he’d pressed on. ‘You’re actually – you think you screwed up there? Oh, Arys, for the future youngest captain in Starfleet, or whatever the hell it was they said about you at the Academy, you got a lot to learn about politics.’

Arys turned sharply. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Beckett winced. ‘What happened on Jhorkesh – how it went right and how it went wrong – had very little to do with our choices, pal. Neither one of us should have been in that situation. Whatever you’re doing on this op, whether it’s saddling up with Rhade and the rest or serving Valance tea right before, don’t let them push you a place you shouldn’t be.’ There was a beat, then he gave that stupid smug smile and turned back to the doors as the turbolift slowed. ‘Be like me, getting himself on the bridge and nowhere near a damned phaser. Now, you coming to lay out the pastries this meeting, or whatever it is you do as yeoman?’

It was Valance, Cortez, Thawn, Kharth, Lindgren, and Harkon already in the conference room by the time the two young ensigns arrived, and Beckett took a seat while Arys did indeed quietly make sure the acting captain didn’t need another hot drink after the long hours they’d already been pulling.

Kharth was at the main display, gesturing across an aerial picture of Tagrador prison camp taken from intelligence briefings and the Pienem’s own records. ‘…two teams. Security Team Alpha move directly to the main office, securing it and any personnel there, and if possible gain access to Tagrador’s computer systems to locate Captain Rourke, Lieutenant Dathan, and Argus. It’s a defensible position and they’ll maintain a holding action to deny Tagrador’s guards access to their own systems. Meanwhile, the Hazard Team will be on the move, sweeping the prison block we believe Argus is in and reporting to the locations of the others as soon as Alpha has them. They’re to keep moving to avoid getting bogged down in any engagement with the main body of the prison forces, who’re going to have their attention split anyway.’

Harkon leaned forward, waving her PADD stylus. ‘If the King Arthur returns to the air after dropping off both teams, she can provide some covering fire for Alpha. Add to a bit of the chaos and stop the prison guards bringing their forces to bear on the main office, considering they’d have to cross open ground to get there.’

‘Good thinking,’ said Kharth, tapping a few things onto the screen. ‘We’ll put Juarez on the runabout to handle the weapons systems. Who’re you thinking for flying her?’

‘Oh.’ Harkon blinked. ‘Oh, yeah, I’ll be on Endeavour, won’t I.’

‘That’s traditional for the Chief Flight Control Officer,’ said Valance in a slightly taut voice. ‘We weren’t expecting contact at Jhorkesh. I do expect it at Tagrador.’

Something twinged in Arys as he skulked near the back, checking the file sharing on his PADDs to be sure each officer was operating off the most recent briefing document. But he shifted his weight and said nothing.

‘I guess it’ll be Starik on the runabout,’ said Harkon, subsiding a little. ‘He’s fine.’

Valance nodded, then looked at Kharth. ‘And running your security team?’

Kharth opened her mouth. Then she stopped and turned to frown at the display. ‘It should be Vakkis, really.’

‘You seem uncertain, Lieutenant.’

‘There are a lot of uncertainties, Commander.’ The edge in Kharth’s voice was barely filed off. Then she shook her head. ‘Scratch that. I’ll lead the team, and run point on the whole rescue op. Vakkis can be on weapons on the runabout, and Juarez at Tactical on Endeavour.’

Arys was dimly surprised when Valance merely nodded at that. ‘Agreed.’ She turned away from Kharth to look expectantly at Thawn, Cortez, Lindgren, and Beckett. ‘Where are we on crossing the border?’

Cortez grimaced. ‘So I’m going to try to modify our warp coils to emit a low level of gravimetric flux, and Nate reckons he can adjust our deflector calibrations to emit an intermittent, polarised magnetic distortion. That’s about as genius an idea as I have to try to disguise us as a Romulan ship on sensors, and make it look like we’re powered by a quantum singularity and not a matter-antimatter reaction.’

‘It’ll be enough,’ Beckett said with an optimism Arys found unconvincing.

‘We have some records I’m drawing from to try to mimic a Romulan civilian transponder,’ said Lindgren.

‘But none of this is perfect,’ Thawn butted in, then flushed as Valance’s eyes turned on her. ‘Sorry, Commander. But without more, we’ll quickly hit a point where we’ll be detected, and our best hope will be to get to Tagrador ahead of reinforcements. And I worry that Commander Cortez’s modifications to our systems will undermine our ability to hit maximum warp.’

Cortez shrugged. ‘Not if I reverse them quickly enough.’

‘I don’t -’ Thawn shut her mouth, cutting off her own protest. ‘As you say, Commander.’

Valance’s eyes remained on Thawn. ‘You have a thought, Lieutenant.’

‘Commander Cortez knows how best to disguise us on sensors, ma’am.’

‘And I’ve heard her opinion. I want yours, as Chief of Operations and acting first officer.’

Silence swept across the conference room, before Thawn stood and approached the main display, which Kharth yielded with a guarded gaze. At the push of a button, Thawn brought up the star map of the region between them and Tagrador, but it was not the one Arys had seen from their sensor records; this had far more annotations on it he suspected Thawn had personally made.

‘I think,’ she said at length, ‘only Ensign Beckett’s deflector calibrations will be needed. Based off the data we took from the Pienem, we know a lot about what crossing the border entails. This is a quiet region. We know there are only standard security buoys on the border, and we have the codes the Pienem used to pass them.’

Cortez spoke rather apprehensively. ‘You said this in our meeting, Lieutenant. Won’t it send up an alert if we use the same codes as them?’

‘I’m -’ Thawn hesitated, then she straightened, and pressed on with more confidence. ‘I don’t think so, Commander. The Pienem was already out of position when she transmitted that code, and no alert went up.’

‘Moradan might have sold the captain out,’ said Cortez. ‘So no wonder he had the right codes.’

‘Except I checked the Pienem’s comms records and it’s the same code they used when they entered the Neutral Zone a week ago; it looks like it updates on a fortnightly cycle. These security buoys are also highly automated; it’s possible that we’ll flag up as an anomaly if we use the Pienem’s code, but that’ll transmit to a border outpost to be double-checked by a sensor operator there. Even if the deflector modifications aren’t enough to pass scrutiny – remember, we are on a very low-priority border – that’ll still take time to be double-checked.’ Thawn bit her lip as she finished.

Valance looked between them, then her eyes settled on Thawn. ‘There’s more.’

‘Ah – yes, Commander. From the Pienem, we also have their findings on long-range sensors. Obviously those are a few hours old, but the region is monitored by Romulan patrol boats which are ready to respond to raiders or smugglers – not a Manticore-class crossing the border. What I propose is that we exploit the Romulan’s own border surveillance against them and use a limited subterfuge to get as close to Tagrador as we can, but not compromise our own systems. If and when we’re detected, we abandon subtlety and head for the system at maximum warp. Even if those patrol boats fancy rallying to respond to us, they’ll want to gather first and we’re still considerably faster than them.’

In the long pause that followed, everyone watched Valance while transparently trying to not stare. At length, the corner of her lip curled and she gave a tight nod. ‘We’ll follow Lieutenant Thawn’s plan for crossing the border. Commander Cortez, focus on getting the ship ready to hit our top speed; Endeavour’s a sprinter and if we do this right, we can hit Tagrador and be back in Federation space before any Romulans catch us.’ She nodded to the senior staff. ‘We leave in two hours.’

Arys lingered as the staff left, Valance catching his eye as he didn’t move, and they both waited until they were alone.

‘Ensign?’

He gave a troubled sigh. ‘I have an odd request to make, Commander.’

Valance’s lips thinned. ‘This is an odd operation, Ensign. But don’t you need to be in Lieutenant Rhade’s Hazard Team briefing?’

‘I think, ma’am, my time with the Hazard Team is at an end, at least for now.’ He shifted his weight. ‘I was wondering – I think I -’ He grimaced. ‘I’d like to be at Endeavour’s helm for this mission.’

A pause. ‘You’re not in the Flight Control Department.’

‘I’m a qualified Flight Control Officer,’ he pointed out. ‘Ensign Starik is a pilot who primarily excels at navigating stellar phenomena. Ensign Harkon very plainly wants to – and would be best-suited to – flying the King Arthur on this operation.’ His voice picked up more speed now he’d committed. ‘If you’ll recall, ma’am, Captain MacCallister had me shadow Lieutenant Pierce for several months last year to gain staff experience in a department I already had grounding in. Nobody aboard has experience flying Endeavour in a combat situation with Lieutenant Drake’s death, but actually my flight training hours are as good as anyone else’s, and my combat ratings are better than Starik’s.’

To his surprise, Valance’s gaze dropped. ‘I’d forgotten you were a pilot,’ she said softly. ‘But then, you and I both know that’s the career path if you want to be a starship captain.’

Arys gave an awkward, worried nod. ‘If you and the captain thought I was worthy of leading the Hazard Team, then you clearly trust my judgement. But after Jhorkesh, I don’t – it’s too soon. I’d be second-guessing myself. But I can’t stay here and… and bring you coffee before the fight.’

‘I’m not adjusting my bridge assignments because you need to be useful,’ she chided gently. But then she shook her head. ‘Harkon’s a better runabout pilot than starship pilot, and you’re both better than Starik, aren’t you. Alright, Ensign. The helm is yours.’

Relief swelled his chest, and in a heartbeat it was like it had purged all uncertainty. Anxiety remained, and lingering fear and shame from Jhorkesh, but the surging sense of purpose felt like it could overwhelm all of it. ‘Yes, Commander. I won’t fail you.’

‘There’s no room on this mission,’ Valance said, ‘for anyone to fail.’

It was not the first time she had been trapped in a small, dark room, without knowing when or if she’d ever be let out.

At first, Dathan had sat still and quiet on the floor, intent she would not give her Romulan captors the satisfaction of seeing her sweat. She had been trained for this, because nobody in her line of work could last for long if they broke down after merely a few hours of knowing nothing but the tang of metal on the tongue, the thudding of the heart in the ears, the smell of fear.

But time became nothing, demarcated only by inhales and exhales, by thumping heartbeats. They were all that passed for seconds, and anything beyond that, the time between the moments she was conscious of time, were ages, eons, eternities. Once she wanted to start clawing at the walls it had been either less than day, or an epoch in which stars had been born and died in the dark of the cell. And only then did Dathan Tahla realise what was different, what she lacked: the certainty.

What was this for? Would Argus lead Endeavour to Ephrath, would Ephrath help the galaxy be saved, did she care?

And above all, as Starfleet jettisoned its principles in the face of crisis and she was but the officer supporting a captain who by now could have been transported tens of light-years away, was anyone coming for her?

So Dathan Tahla sat in the darkness with nothing, and summoned every scrap of strength she had to swallow her screams.

* *

‘…within parameters.’ Cortez looked across the conference room at Valance, and put down her PADD. ‘Talk to me.’

Even though they were alone, Valance stiffened at the shift in formality. ‘It’s your report, Commander.’

‘Okay, no.’ Cortez stood up and padded around the table to her. ‘We’re about to do one of the craziest things this ship has ever done, and it’s just you in command. Tell me you’re not afraid and I’ll call you a liar. So I’m throwing out protocol for a moment. Talk to me.’

Valance shut her eyes, but she felt Cortez reach her, perch on the conference table before her. Against expectations, the closeness made it easier to breathe. ‘Nothing about this is good. But this – this isn’t how I’d want to do this.’

‘Without the captain?’

‘It’s not that. It’s… I wish Dav were here.’ That wasn’t what she’d intended on saying, but her eyes opened guiltily as the words rang true.

‘He’s very good, but he’s not actually magic.’

‘That’s not what I mean. Obviously I’d feel better if he were at Science, if he were my acting second. I mean this isn’t the team I’d have chosen: Thawn, Beckett, Arys, Juarez… that bridge is going to be so damn young. But they have to be good enough. We have to be ready because we don’t have a choice but to be ready, and that also isn’t how it works…’

Cortez’s hand traced up her shoulder to the side of her neck, touch light. ‘Do you want me to tell you it’ll be alright, or do you want a more vicious analysis?’

Valance looked sceptical. ‘You’re capable of a more vicious analysis?’

‘Thawn will flap if she hits a situation she thinks she hasn’t prepared for. Beckett is inexperienced with the ship’s systems. Juarez can sometimes focus too much on his ship’s loadout and not enough on an enemy’s. And Arys is so blisteringly desperate to prove himself that he might just show some personality, and then where will we be?’

Despite herself, Valance smothered a smirk. ‘Is that supposed to be reassuring?’

‘You didn’t ask for reassuring. But the secret, hidden point you missed because I’m really clever is that you know how to manage every single one of those weaknesses in your team. If you keep Thawn calm, she sees how she can adapt her thousand-and-one contingencies, for example. And this plan doesn’t live and die on Beckett.’

‘That’s true.’ Valance let out a deep breath, then looked up. ‘And you better be in Engineering, because I definitely can’t do this if you’re not looking after your ship.’

‘Damn straight it’s my ship; Rourke’s not aboard and I’ll fight you.’ Cortez winked as she stood. ‘We’ll be hitting the border in a minute. See you on the other side.’

Valance got to her feet, but on a sudden impulse she normally ignored she reached out to catch Cortez’s arm, pull her back, and kiss her. It was not a collapse of decorum she indulged for long, letting Cortez go before she’d even realised what was happening, and Valance met her surprised gaze with a level expression for a long, thudding heartbeat. ‘See you on the other side,’ she said, after she’d swallowed anything else she might say.

Cortez stepped back, obviously flapping. ‘Hot damn. Well. I’m gonna go get ready to catapult us all at speeds ain’t none of us ever travelled at before,’ she said in a far too jocular fashion, wrong-footed by the whole thing, and clapped her hands in a rather embarrassing way before she left.

It was at least, Valance told herself, a momentary respite from the blind panic that threatened again as she entered the bridge.

Thawn at once surrendered the command chair, relieving Ensign Athaka at Ops as she said, ‘We’re two minutes out from the border, Commander.’

Valance nodded, but her eyes fell on the occupied seat to the left of the command chair. ‘Counsellor. I don’t normally see you up here.’

The corners of Carraway’s eyes crinkled as he smiled self-consciously. ‘I don’t normally think I’ve got a lot to bring to the bridge. But, uh, Doctor Sadek asked if I could keep an eye on things, and…’

She sat beside him and inclined her head. ‘We’ll get them both back, Counsellor,’ she said, before looking about the bridge and raising her voice. ‘That goes for all of you. I know you’re scared. I know most of you don’t think you’re ready for this. If that at any point feels like too much, if you feel like you can’t hack it – look around you. Look at the officers you’re serving with, because I know that you do trust them. So if you hesitate… if this mission feels like it’s too much… remember: everyone in this room trusts you and believes in you.’ Valance raised her voice, and tried to force more inflection in than she normally allowed. ‘I believe in you.’

Mostly.

Carraway leaned in, dropping his voice as her words sent a ripple through the bridge. ‘Good sentiment. It’s hitting home,’ he murmured, and though Valance knew he was managing her just as much as she’d managed the others, the damning thing was that it felt like it worked.

An alert blatted at Helm, and Arys reached for his panel. ‘Reaching the border, Commander.’

‘We’re being challenged by the beacons; transmitting the codes,’ Lindgren confirmed. A beat passed. ‘All clear.’

‘Long-range sensors giving us similar patrol patterns we saw from the Pienem,’ Beckett chirped up. ‘All small gunships and the like; none of them diverting towards us.’

‘How’re our deflector modifications holding up?’ said Valance.

‘Emissions are steady.’

‘Good. Hold course, and carry on at Warp 6, Helm.’ Any faster would be more than the sort of ship they were trying to impersonate at long-range could manage, and none of their alterations would withstand an active sensor scan. They were reliant on avoiding scrutiny, with their transponders a pale mimicry, their accurate but perhaps misapplied comms codes, and modified emissions.

It took two hours before there was another alert, and Valance’s chest tightened as Beckett spoke up. ‘Uh, Commander – I’m picking up something new on long-range sensors. Heavy warbird, Valdore-class, looks like it’s on a course for Tagrador.’

‘Have they spotted us?’ said Valance.

‘No way to know, but, uh, doesn’t look like it? No indication they have.’

‘At present time and heading, what’s their ETA at Tagrador?’

A beat as Beckett took slightly longer to calculate what would have been child’s play to Davir Airex. ‘Ten hours.’

Two hours ahead of them, with their current speed and course. Valance’s jaw tightened. ‘A Valdore’s cruising speed is Warp 7. Confirm their speed?’

‘Warp 7, Commander.’

Thawn turned in her chair. ‘If we go to maximum speed, even if we draw their attention and they also go to maximum speed to intercept, not only will we get there before them, Commander, but we can outrun them when we leave,’ she said, and at the press of a button she’d sent quick calculations to Valance’s console.

It was one thing to cross the border like this in a Manticore; another thing to be detected, and something else entirely to trespass and pick a fight with a Valdore, and for a heartbeat, Valance considered giving the order to come about.

Then she said, ‘We’ll have to make sure we buy the King Arthur time to do their job on the surface,’ and opened a comm line to Engineering. ‘Commander Cortez. Give me maximum speed.’

* *

Kharth stepped out of the King Arthur’s cockpit into the aft briefing room. ‘Looks like it’ll be clear on the way down,’ she told the mixed gathering of the Hazard Team and her own security officers. ‘But Endeavour’s expecting company before we’re back. So, might be a bit of a bumpy return journey.’

T’Kalla scoffed. ‘Harkon can fly us out of a mess, no worries.’

‘No worries,’ Kharth echoed. ‘It doesn’t change the plan, except you’ll have to cancel that picnic I know you were itching for, Chief.’

‘You better take me somewhere nice later to make up for it, Lieutenant.’

Kharth chuckled and headed for the lower deck, where she’d left Rhade and Baranel triple-checking the loadout. She didn’t feel it was necessary, but she knew it made them both feel better. ‘Romulan warbird’s going to be waiting for us on the return to Endeavour,’ she updated them brusquely. ‘So we better make this quick.’

Rhade frowned as he turned a phaser rifle over in his hands. ‘It’ll be quick,’ he said calmly. ‘One step at a time.’

Not for the first time, Kharth was relieved at deploying with the Hazard Team; between Baranel and Seeley, the operation had several skilled engineers if the runabout ran into trouble, skills her security officers couldn’t bring to the situation. And not for the first time, Kharth felt a pang as she regarded Rhade, who would deploy with them while she conducted a more static duty. ‘You sure about this?’ she said, voice dropping as she checked Baranel was further down the way.

He slotted the rifle back into its rack. ‘I could say it’s too late for doubts, and it is. Even if I regretted this decision, we are committed now.’ But he turned to her, gaze level. ‘I don’t regret it.’

‘Pretty sure the captain will throw us back in the brig once this is done if we ask…’

‘I need to be where I can make a difference and do good. That’s here. That’s continuing to be here. For both of us.’ Rhade cocked his head. ‘You shouldn’t doubt. We’ve a job to do, and it’s to save people. You’re good at that. Let’s do it.’

Kharth was not accustomed, she thought, to being the one chasing after people. She’d stopped trying to save them a long time ago, when they’d demonstrated they were more likely to leave her than fight for her. But still her hand came to rest on one of the rifles, feeling the reassuring weight and cool metal.

‘Yeah,’ she murmured, thinking of how in a matter of hours she’d be using this to shoot her own people. ‘Let’s save them.’

* *

‘My ship will be here within the hour, Captain,’ said Commander Lotharn, stood in the open door to Rourke’s cell. ‘Do you have anything to say that will see me spare your officer? Or I’ll have her shot on the landing ramp in front of you.’ Rourke said nothing, staring at his hands, and didn’t look up. At length, Lotharn nodded. ‘My staff have eyes on this cell. Say that you want to talk, and we’ll talk.’

Shadows fell on the cell once more as Lotharn left, casting him into nothing but the memory of sight, imagining rather than seeing the contours of his hands before him, the bunk he sat upon. And again time lost all meaning.

Did he trust Lotharn? He had no reason to believe the commander had done anything but manipulate him, and yet he’d offered to even let Dathan leave with Argus if he was satisfied with the explanation. Or would he achieve nothing except handing Argus’s data archives to the Romulan Star Empire on a platter, only for Dathan to be executed anyway? All of his training demanded he give his interrogator nothing, especially not if it could shed light on wider Starfleet operations.

But Lotharn was right: the rules were being suspended, bent, and broken for all manner of things except for how they defined and treated their enemies. If he could disregard all regulations and condemn Romulan officers to death to preserve galactic safety, could he not disregard his training and trust them this time?

Then came a new sound: a deep, rumbling boom that reverberated through the metal of his walls, of his bunk, and Rourke’s head snapped up. He knew that sound; torpedoes striking a surface target, and a heartbeat later the tinny, distant noise of an alert siren creaked through the walls.

He was on his feet at once, flattening against the cell wall beside the door. Pressing his ear to the seam, he did his best to listen for anything – shouts, thudding footsteps, orders or screaming. The timing was suspect, but he didn’t dare hope too hard; this could be a prisoner disturbance, a fire, anything. But no matter what, it was an opportunity; if the prison camp was compromised, he could imagine Lotharn would try to have him moved. Chaos was half a chance. Even if they were distracted, guards coming to take him from his cell would be armed and armoured. But they would be in close quarters, struggling to bring their equipment or numbers to bear. He was big, trained, and had nothing to lose.

Then he heard it; the thumping footsteps, the raised voices – a series of blasts he recognised as phaser and disruptor fire. Then silence, another step right outside his door, and Rourke hunkered down, poised and ready to lunge. There was no telling who’d made it to his cell.

When the doors slid open, he saw the pointed ears of the silhouette, and that was all he needed. Rather than charge, he grabbed them by the shoulder, hauling them into the cell where it could become just the two of them, a confined space, and a scrabble for their rifle. His elbow slammed into their solar plexus, and as they reeled he grabbed hold of the rifle’s barrel. And hesitated when he felt what was unmistakably a phaser.

Then Saeihr Kharth’s booted foot slammed down on his instep, and while she had the courtesy of following it up with an indignant if breathless, ‘Captain!’ it was the blow and the pain that brought reality crashing in.

He let her go. ‘Kharth!’

Bathed in the bright lights from the corridor, her expression twisted through relief and pain and a guilt that rattled down to his core, before a stern control returned and she shouldered her rifle. ‘We’ve taken the main block. Hazard Team are chasing down Dathan and Argus, they’re in a different wing. But we’re getting you out of here, sir. Are you hurt?’

He shook his head, and took the phaser pistol she unholstered and passed to him. ‘Where’s Endeavour?’ he asked, following her into the corridor a trio of officers had secured.

‘Orbit. We snuck a way past Romulan defences and got here before any serious opposition could reach us.’

‘There’s a warbird incoming -’

‘Really soon, we detected it. If Rhade’s quick, we might be gone before they arrive.’

He nodded, wondering if Lotharn had been found, but deciding he’d much rather leave than engage further in anything that might give the Romulans a clue of their intention – or provoke them further. Instead, he caught Kharth’s eye and gave her a tight smile. ‘It’s really good to see you, Saeihr,’ he said.

She hesitated, then returned her gaze to the mission before them. ‘I thought I’d do my job this time,’ she said, wry in her bashfulness and audible shame. ‘Let’s get you out of here, sir.’

‘Go!’ Rifle to his shoulder, Rhade laid down suppressive fire as T’Kalla and Shikar broke across the open courtyard to the next point of cover. Kharth and her team had secured the main compound, recovered Captain Rourke, and were holding steady, but they hadn’t yet broken through the camp’s systems. That left the Hazard Team scrambling more than he liked as they swept in search of Argus and Dathan.

On Betazed, it would have been normal for him to open his senses to everyone around him, to feel their thoughts as plainly as he could see their faces. Since leaving home he’d suppressed that habit, picking up all but the most obvious flash of emotion, just as much as he could read expressions and body languages anyway. Even in battle, he kept a tight control on his abilities. He could concentrate and get a sense of his enemies, a sense of their feelings, and that was often enough. He might be here to do physical violence against them, but that still gave him no right to violate their minds.

But it was still some relief that his phaser was set to stun. His next shot took a guard bold enough to stick his head out, and he felt the Romulan’s presence dim, but not fade out. There was a difference between sensing someone go from active thought to unconsciousness, and sensing that light being snuffed out entirely.

The shot was enough to make the lingering guards think better of it, and they pulled back into the prison facility. Rhade glanced up, saw the reassuring shape of the King Arthur hovering overhead like a watchful shadow, and tapped his comms. ‘Alpha team; Rhade. We’re approaching B-Wing. Any luck with the systems?’

‘Sorry, Lieutenant. Can’t get past this decryption.’

He should have left Seeley with them, he thought, but then Seeley wouldn’t have been right then peeling through the locking system of the detention wing’s main doors like they were nothing. Jaw tight, Rhade broke into a jog to join them.

T’Kalla was keeping watch on the rest of the main yard. Grey skies and a constant drizzle of rain painted the prison camp in turgid misery, but the faint cover of fog and spray was on their side. ‘Any more coming?’

‘I’m not a walking sensor array,’ he reminded her with good humour. ‘It’s mostly feelings. And in a place like this, almost all you get is fear; a lot of fear.’ That was the preeminent sensation from within the detention wing in particular, but despite himself he reached out, focusing through the darker emotions coming off the prisoners in waves that obscured almost anything else. If there was a guard within there, their apprehension either mingling with the prisoners or under control, Rhade could not make them out.

‘We might have to go door-to-door at this rate,’ he said. ‘But -’

Then something cut through and he stopped short, frowning. Familiarity, for certain, but that could mean anything in here – a thought he recognised, a form of mental discipline he’d encountered before. Minds were deeply complicated and unique, but sometimes on the surface they were very, very similar. That was the first reason it took him a moment to concentrate and be sure he had a bead on Lieutenant Dathan. The second was the deep-rooted terror within her he’d never noticed before, because never before had he let himself push past her surface.

Rhade straightened. ‘This way,’ he said, and burst through the detention wing’s doors the moment Seeley had cracked them. They’d moved quickly upon arrival, as per the plan, not staying in one place long enough for the prison guards to rally against them. The guards were ready to keep locked-up prisoners under control, not drive off an external attack, and so Rhade led the way down the rows and rows of cells with ease, opposition melting away under the discipline and phaser fire of the well-oiled machine of Endeavour’s Hazard Team.

He stopped before a cell like any other, and gestured the others to keep watch on the corridor. ‘Here. This is her,’ he said, and all but hammered the door controls to open it. Inside was only darkness, and Rhade hesitated at the threshold for a moment. When he spoke, he kept his voice low, cautious. ‘Lieutenant Dathan?’

Then she appeared, wreathed in shadow, and even as he saw her fighting to steel her expression, he could feel the shock coming off her in waves. ‘What are you doing?’

Despite himself, Rhade gave a tight, pleased smile. ‘Rescuing you, Lieutenant.’

‘The captain -’

‘Has been secured by the other team. We’re here for you.’

She stared at him like he wasn’t real, and that was something he couldn’t miss: the awe, the bewilderment, the gratitude it seemed she had as much trouble comprehending as he did. Because why wouldn’t he be here, leader of the Hazard Team, come to rescue a captured officer? But then she’d won her battle for composure and said, voice as flat as ever. ‘Argus?’

‘Still trying to find him,’ came T’Kalla’s call from over Rhade’s shoulder. ‘Prison camp might not be ready to withstand a full assault, but we can’t crack their security systems inside of twenty minutes.’

Dathan nodded, then she reached for the phaser T’Kalla offered. ‘I listened to the guards when they dragged me in,’ she said, and turned back to Rhade. ‘I know where he is.’

* *

‘Commander! Valdore-class dropping out of warp!’

If that had been Airex and not Beckett, Valance thought, there would have been much less fear in that report. But then, if everything was as it should have been, she wouldn’t have been in the centre chair. Her grip on the armrests tightened. ‘Bring us about to face them, Helm. Tactical, fire at will. Don’t be afraid to bruise them while they’re fresh on the scene.’

She’d weighed it up in her head – to strike first, or to try to delay them with communication? But she was intruding on Romulan territory with an away team assaulting their prison camp to free an infiltration team. They were a long way past the Rubicon; conflict with the Romulan ships was inevitable, and at this point, if she could bloody their noses first that made fleeing later easier.

It also played to her team’s strengths, Juarez delighting in a long-distance targeting solution and letting out a volley with pinpoint accuracy that thudded off the Romulans’ deflectors.

‘They’ve hailed us,’ said Lindgren rather mildly. ‘I don’t think you need to trouble yourself with it, though, Commander.’

‘They’re entitled to be rude under the circumstances,’ said Valance. ‘Keep up a steady rate of fire, Tactical; we don’t want them seeing an opportunity to cloak. Rely on phasers so we can keep them at a distance, or we’ll have to protect the King Arthur on the return.’

‘Drawing them away from the moon,’ reported Arys. ‘We can sprint back to pick up the runabout faster than them.’

Of course he had studied the possible Romulan ships they might face. Valance nodded, and felt Endeavour shudder as return fire splashed harmlessly off their deflectors. Normally, she would have weathered it with tension and certainty, but this sent through her a wholly original ripple of anxiety. She had never before commanded Endeavour in battle. And certainly not against professional military foes.

‘Shields holding,’ Juarez confirmed. ‘Returning fire.’

‘‘They won’t want to get into a close-quarters slugging match with a Manticore,’ she said, keeping her voice level. ‘Drive them back. All we need is time.’

* *

‘Rhade to Kharth; Lieutenant Dathan directed us to Argus’s cell block. We’ve got him now. Heading back to you.’

Rourke watched as Kharth’s expression gave the faintest deference to relief. ‘Understood, Hazard Team. We’ll make for the King Arthur. See you at the landing spot.’ She turned to the rest of the team that had taken position in the Tagrador prison main control room. ‘Slag these systems controls. Let’s give them a hell of a time figuring out what’s going on here.’

‘Cruel,’ Rourke commented wryly. ‘They’re already just a bunch of prison guards unprepared for a full-on assault from Starfleet security.’

‘Hm, we are better than them, aren’t we?’ Kharth led them out of the control room and down the stairwell. ‘But you said there’s a warbird commander somewhere, and whatever soldiers he brought. Not to mention, the more we can confuse records on our being here, the easier time the Federation will have dealing with the political fallout.’

‘How forward-thinking of you, Lieutenant.’

Skies were grey and the rain still came down in a tarnished haze, but after however long Rourke had spent in the dark, even the inner courtyard of Tagrador prison camp had the sweetest fresh air he’d ever tasted. Down to the landing pad hummed the King Arthur, Lieutenant Vakkis ushering them aboard. But Kharth stopped and gestured to her team to take up position around the runabout.

‘Gotta cover the Hazard Team’s return!’ she told Rourke, shouting to be heard above the King Arthur’s engines. ‘Get aboard, sir!’

He hefted his pistol. ‘I’m another gunman -’

‘And you can be so from the hatch.’ Her jaw set. ‘I have operational command here; you’re the objective, not my CO, and I’m already facing one court martial. I will knock your ass out if I have to, sir!’

Her eyes blazed, and to Rourke’s own surprise, he laughed. ‘Wouldn’t have this any other way, Lieutenant,’ he said, and turned to the King Arthur.

‘Rourke!’

Lotharn’s voice was faint over the distance, the hum of the runabout’s engines, the thudding of rain on the landing pad. Halfway to the hatch, Rourke looked back at the detention wing from which emerged Commander Lotharn and a half-dozen soldiers. But the Romulans were no match in numbers for the security team, and as Rourke watched, Lotharn lifted a hand, stopping his troops.

For a moment both sides levelled rifles at each other and stood still. Kharth had been surprised when Rourke had mentioned Lotharn; they had found and stunned the prison commander, but no naval captain. Wherever Lotharn had been when Starfleet had landed, he must have kept moving, gathering what guards he could as much as staying out of trouble, confronting them now only once they were out in the open – and looking like he knew he’d miscalculated.

Still the commander called out. ‘You’re only making this worse, Rourke! You could settle this for our governments. Throw yourself on your sword and end it here. How many more lives will be lost if this continues?’

‘Depends on how many you want to send after us!’ Rourke shouted back.

‘Is that it, then? Does Starfleet deliver justice only when held at gunpoint?’

‘Does the Empire know any other way to deliver it?’ He shook his head. ‘Giving me a sham trial and having me shot as a gesture isn’t justice.’

‘My people get nothing or we get the gesture. That’s all both our leaders, yours and mine, will allow. I choose the gesture.’ But on the far side of the landing pad, the opposite side of the runabout to the detention wing and Lotharn’s small gathering of men, the Hazard Team arrived. As they sprinted for the King Arthur, the Romulan commander gestured his men back, withdrawing to the door of the building, and with this influx of Starfleet forces they did not so much as pretend they could engage.

‘Another day, perhaps,’ Rourke breathed as the Romulans disappeared from sight. Getting the final word did not give him as much satisfaction as he might have expected.

‘Come on, sir.’ Kharth was at Rourke’s shoulder now, all but pushing him onto the runabout. ‘Escape first, political debates later.’

The Hazard Team were not far behind, and despite Kharth’s aggravated gaze, Rourke was there to help pull Dathan aboard after him. ‘Good to see you again, Lieutenant.’ She was not easier to read for her Romulan disguise, so he didn’t speculate further on what trouble lay behind the curt nod. The runabout was rising, then, the hatch swinging shut, and the last he saw of Tagrador was grey skies and whipping rain.

‘Double-timing it back to the mothership,’ came Harkon’s voice over the main comms. ‘Hold on, we’ve got bumpy atmo and a real pissed off warbird up there.’

Rourke let out a relieved sigh, and felt his heart rate slow for the first time in days. He turned to the other figure not in Starfleet uniform, a man he’d never met, whose face he’d only seen on reports. The Tellarite looked haggard and worn and more than a little bewildered, but still Rourke stuck his hand out towards him.

‘Captain Argus. We’ve come a long way to have a conversation with you.’

* *

‘King Arthur has broken orbit and is headed our way!’ Beckett’s voice rang across the bridge.

Valance’s gaze snapped to the front. ‘The warbird?’

‘Keeping its distance,’ said Arys. ‘We’ve a clear run back to the runabout.’

‘If we pull away now,’ Juarez warned, ‘there’s nothing to stop them cloaking.’

Valance’s jaw set. ‘We can still out-run them. It’s more important we get the King Arthur and go. Bring us about, Helm.’

The deck hummed underneath as Arys set Endeavour hard about, and the regular hiss that had filled the air from the near-constant weapons fire faded. They’d had the warbird on its heels for most of the fight, seizing the initiative and giving it no chance to rally. But with the Romulans playing defensive, neither ship had done much more than exchange fire, the warbird’s shields lower than Endeavour’s by now – but still steady. A part of Valance had feared they were waiting for reinforcements that might have dropped from cloak at any moment, but none had arrived.

We had the element of surprise. This is what it looks like when that works.

Endeavour soared for the moon, the gas giant beyond dominating the viewscreen and making their heading nothing but a dot of green in a sea of bronzes and whites. Only on sensors did she spot the speck that was the King Arthur, and as Arys began to slow the ship, Beckett clicked his tongue behind them.

‘Warbird’s gone.’

Valance gave a tense sigh. ‘Warp or cloak? Or evaporated?’

‘I – cloaked, Commander, sorry. They’ve cloaked.’

She had more experience serving aboard than fighting ships with cloaks, and looked to Thawn. ‘Any way of detecting them, Lieutenant?’ It was a snub to not ask Beckett, but finding the unfindable was not a challenge she wanted to set the young ensign.

Even Thawn’s expression creased with uncertainty. ‘We’ve not landed any significant hits; I don’t see any reason their emissions would be off in any way. Once we go to warp, even if they could keep up with us…’

‘…if they go too fast, that’ll eventually make them detectable. I’m worried about them here and now, though. We’re weakest once we line up to go to warp.’ They had a minute or two, she estimated, where Endeavour would stay ahead of the warbird and could pick up the King Arthur. But then there was nothing to stop the warbird.

Beckett shifted. ‘Can we trap them into a specific space where we can hit them? Use the moon or the planet?’

Arys looked up at that. ‘I don’t know about trapping them, but if we slingshot around the gas giant before going to warp, they’ll really struggle to keep pace.’

‘Unless they just follow us,’ Beckett pointed out.

‘Which puts them,’ said Valance, pushing to her feet, ‘somewhere we can predict.’

Thawn pulled the navigational sensors up on the Ops console. ‘Calculating our flight route to leave the system at warp speed,’ she confirmed, giving Arys a small nod, and Valance’s apprehension eased at their exchange. This was her keeping work off his plate as he worried about piloting at impulse, playing to her strengths rather than the needling she’d once thrown at Drake.

Lindgren looked up from Comms. ‘King Arthur has landed; confirmed they have Rourke, Dathan, and Argus aboard.’

‘Plot us a course out, Helm, around the gas giant. Now!’ She turned to Tactical as Endeavour rose under her, adjusting her footing as the inertial dampers compensated all but a micron of the pressures. ‘Lieutenant Juarez, as we straighten up at the slingshot -’

‘Fire aft torpedoes? You got it, Commander.’

She sat back down, gripping the armrests. If she was wrong – if the warbird was faster or closer than she’d thought – this was going to be rocky, Endeavour denied manoeuvrability as they escaped to warp, forced to take any weapons fire on their deflectors and hull. The Romulans would know that, giving everything they’d got, and anything that damaged their systems and stopped them from reaching top speed at warp could be critical.

Again the inertial dampers fought to compensate as Arys brought them rocketing around the gas giant, captured by and yet fighting against – harnessing – its gravitic pull, pushing their speed beyond the capacity of the impulse engines. If the Romulans weren’t hot on their heels, they’d struggle to target them, catch them. If they were, they’d have to be directly in their wake.

Valance watched on the sensors, teeth gritted, as they came about and began to break free of the gas giant’s pull, straightening up to go to warp. ‘Fire, Mr Juarez. Mr Arys? Engage warp.’

The results splayed across the sensor feed to her console almost instantaneously. Endeavour lunged to warp like a horse at a swift, manoeuvrable canter breaking into a thunderous gallop. Beneath that systems feed was the confirmation of torpedo fire, and a heartbeat later, confirmation of detonation. They’d hit something, for certain, and if a cloaked warbird had taken two quantum torpedoes to the prow with shields down, they’d be in no condition to give chase.

But now Endeavour was at warp, and with Cortez stoking the core hotter than it had ever been, Valance fancied few things in the whole quadrant would catch them.

‘We’re away, Commander,’ Arys confirmed after a moment, with a relieved sigh. ‘Heading for the border, the way we came.’

‘Looks like we got them,’ Beckett chirped up. ‘Leaving behind one decloaking and pretty sorry-looking Romulan warbird in the Tagrador system. They are not pursuing.’

Valance slumped back on the command chair. ‘Anything on long-range sensors?’

‘Those patrol ships are still gathering up at an M-class star three light-years away,’ said Beckett. ‘But they’d be eating our space dust even if they came chasing after us now.’

‘I suppose the rest,’ she mused, ‘is the politicians’ problem.’

At a glance, Qualor II and Jhorkesh were not so different. Streets boasted that same kaleidoscope of coloured lights reflecting off brushed metal walls and signs, the same bursting diversity of faces from different worlds, species, cultures. But Jhorkesh was a cramped trade hub in the Neutral Zone, while Qualor II was an affluent planet of the Federation. Here, underneath all the lights and sounds and smells, it was at least clean.

Ensign Beckett paced before the bench outside the storage facilities. ‘We should have gone in with him.’

‘It’s his account,’ Rourke reminded. ‘Security protocols won’t allow it.’

‘Even under these emergency -’

‘He’s not going to run. He wouldn’t get far. Besides.’ Rourke leaned back on the bench. ‘We rescued him from a prison camp. I think Captain Argus knows which way his bread’s buttered.’

‘I never got that saying. Surely the thing about bread is that you can butter it either side.’

‘What, even sticky-down on the plate? That’s just messy.’

‘Not if you hold it up -’

‘Captain, Ensign.’ They turned to see the husky Tellarite Argus stood before the wide glass doors, clutching a portable storage device. ‘Thanks for waiting.’

Rourke stood. ‘Is that it?’

‘Everything recovered from the wreckage. Including the logs I scrubbed from the Hyksos’s nav computer of the location.’ Argus handed it to the waiting hands of Beckett. ‘Least I could do.’

As Beckett double-checked the files, Rourke looked at the freighter captain. ‘What’re you going to do now?’

‘First? Get my ship back,’ said Argus with a rumble of a chuckle. ‘It’s still legally mine, Zhoran be damned. Then we’ll take off from this border a bit. Maybe head for the Borderlands. Where I won’t get grabbed by the Star Empire the moment I show my face.’ He scratched his jowly cheeks. ‘I know you were after my files, Captain. But I’m grateful you got me out of that place anyway. The Romulans didn’t care what I’d done, only that I broke their rules. I promise you I was moving nothing that would have got me more than a slap on the wrist from the Federation.’

A little digging had given them some insights into what had Argus thrown into Tagrador, and Rourke suspected he was telling the truth. For a heartbeat he wondered how many others in Tagrador deserved a freedom Endeavour hadn’t delivered, but he shoved the thought aside. It had not been the time to provoke the Empire even further. Still, Lotharn’s words echoed in him for a treacherous moment.

Our governments will make these fresh demands of us, tell us the stakes are higher than ever before, but the compromises made will never threaten their hegemony.

Beckett tapped his PADD against the storage device. ‘This is it. Confirmed the rest of the star chart collection, and other Tkon records still.’

Rourke gave Argus a level look. ‘If this isn’t the lot…’

‘Do I look stupid enough to spit on a favour from Starfleet with the Star Empire after me? Don’t bite the hand that feeds, Captain.’ Argus extended his hand for a firm shake. ‘Good hunting.’

Beckett shoved the storage device under his arm as he watched Argus walk off into the streets of Qualor. ‘We’re keeping an eye on him until we check this properly, right?’

‘He won’t leave the planet without us knowing when and where he’s heading,’ Rourke assured him. ‘But you should get that in the lab.’

‘Sure. Promised the lieutenants I’d pick them up slushies first. But, uh…’ Beckett rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Can I get another shot at speaking freely, sir?’

His apprehension was exhausting, Rourke realised. It wasn’t that he resented the young officer for being uncertain, but the fact he felt like that at all. After all that Jhorkesh and Tagrador – Teros – had taken out of him, navigating the nervousness of young Ensign Beckett was an added burden he struggled to find patience for. And still, Beckett deserved his patience. Rourke scrubbed his face with his hand. ‘Spit it out.’

It was not the right way to handle Beckett’s anxiety. ‘I just – look, I bet being in Tagrador was hard, but it’s back to work, and -’

‘That’s not spitting it out.’ But Rourke shook his head. ‘I mean, speak your mind with me, Nate. It’s okay.’

‘Is it, though?’ Beckett straightened, visibly steeling himself. ‘You say it is, you bring me in like it’s the Academy days, like I’m the cadet who needs a leg up and someone to believe in him, and you’re the instructor with an open-door policy who’s decided to take a chance on me. But it’s not like that any more. I’m an officer on your starship on the front lines of a crisis. At the Academy, making me the best I could be was your job, your priority. That’s not the case on Endeavour.’

Rourke frowned. ‘I suppose not.’

‘And that’s still not the point.’ Beckett shifted his weight. ‘You say you made me Acting Chief Science Officer because the crisis needs my skills. Except there’s no reason Veldman couldn’t have run the department, the bridge, while I took point on the Tkon. And this isn’t the time to give me an opportunity so I can “rise up,” or whatever, Captain; I’m sorry, but it’s not.’

They’d known each other long enough that Rourke suspected Beckett wasn’t done, was giving himself a ramp up to the main point, and so he stayed quiet, Qualor’s streets buzzing around them in a way that made it easier for them to feel like two men talking, rank blurred away under the bright lights.

And at last, Beckett met his gaze. ‘I know why you’ve made the assignment choices you did. Me, Arys, Thawn. After Teros, you wanted people who wouldn’t question your orders any more. The young and the inexperienced you could pretend you were doing a huge favour, and in return we’d be so slavishly loyal to you – or just not dare speak up – that you never had to worry about your crew’s obedience again.’ Even though Beckett straightened further, a faint cringe entered his eyes. ‘And I can see this, sir, because you’re – because this is exactly how my father manages people.’

Rourke had been assembling a reassuring argument right until the last sentence, which hit him like a punch in the face. ‘Nate, that’s not…’

‘Pick the ones with potential, give them a head start now, and then they’ll owe you too much to be anything but yours,’ said Ensign Beckett, repeating the playbook of Admiral Beckett. ‘Maybe that’s impertinent of me, but you know me and being impertinent against my father. It’s not a game I want to play any more, even if that means giving up this big opportunity – even if this means you’ll ship me off Endeavour. I can’t keep my mouth shut about it any more.’

When he’d met Nate Beckett, he’d been an under-achieving third-year Academy student on the verge of giving up, cruising his way to ‘just about good enough’ on raw talent but wearing the mantle of a future Starfleet officer too uneasily to do more. Rourke knew full-well he’d given him attention not because he’d seen anything particularly special, but because he’d recognised a youth too entangled with his father’s expectations and wishes to be his own man. He’d been ready to guide Nate wherever he needed to be, even if that was to leave the Academy and find his own path, and instead unlocked the young cadet’s potential just by giving him permission to be himself. For the last third of his Academy life, Beckett had finally engaged and excelled, pulling through in his final year in a way that could not expunge his previous mediocrity, but left his records covered in notes from instructors that he was a much-improved prospective officer, and one to watch.

So Rourke was aware it was his own fault that Nate Beckett now stood before him with the confidence to call out his captain.

He set his hands on his hips and stared at the pavement for a moment. ‘I’m not going to ship you off Endeavour, Nate, God. I told you to speak your mind.’ He scrubbed his face with his hand, feeling the stubble he rather hoped would hurry up growing back. ‘I didn’t just want you here to give you a chance you weren’t getting on other assignments. I wanted you on Endeavour so I could stop your father from meddling in your career. Damned fine job I did if I’ve just mimicked him, huh?’

Nate Beckett winced. ‘I think my father did a number on us both, sir. He’s very good at it. I know he’s in my head when my back’s against a wall.’

Fathers, Matt Rourke reflected, were rather like that. ‘I actually can’t let you step down from running the Science Department yet, Nate. Veldman’s taking a leave of absence during Chief Kowalski’s recovery, or at least for a few weeks of it. I’m still waiting on a new assignment from Personnel. I’m going to need you to see us through to Ephrath.’

‘Sure.’ Beckett bit his lip. ‘But you know Arys and Thawn and anyone else won’t speak up like this, so, I figured I’d throw myself on the grenade for them…’

‘Your point,’ said Rourke gently, ‘is made.’ He stepped forward and reached to clasp his shoulder. ‘We didn’t talk after Jhorkesh. I’d say you did well, that you had my back, and it’s all true, but that’s not really what you need to hear, is it?’

That visibly took Beckett aback, his eyes widening. ‘I didn’t – you had to save my arse, sir…’

‘I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. Of course there was a risk of danger at Jhorkesh, it’s why the Hazard Team was on-call. That’s my fault, do you understand? Pushing you before you were ready, putting too much on you, not supporting you like it’s my job to. I want you talking with Carraway. But.’ Rourke leaned down to make sure he looked Beckett in the eye. ‘It was my fault, Nate. And I’m sorry.’

The young ensign’s expression wavered for a heartbeat, then he drew a deep breath. ‘I better get this back to the lab,’ he said, patting the storage device. ‘If I’m still running point on the department for this. Finding the lost world of Ephrath, and everything. Why am I bitching when this is the sort of thing I joined Starfleet for?’

Rourke couldn’t help but grin at that, at the boy who’d once only joined Starfleet because it was better than fighting his father. ‘Go on. I’ve business in the city.’

He took a moment after Beckett left, because he hadn’t been ready for one unexpected battle with the ghosts of his past right before he saddled up for another. At least Qualor II was busy and bustling enough that, even in uniform, he didn’t much draw the eye. He could walk through streets of people in their happy, active lives and let it wash over him, let it soak in as a soothing balm after the tribulations of past weeks.

This was not a dark cell. It was not a bridge where he was trapped between murder and insubordination. It was not a Romulan face confronting him with all he’d done and all he meant to go on and do. It was bright smiles and people laughing; it was passing a bar with a group of friends exchanging jokes as they brought in a fresh round of drinks, passing a shop where people tried on bright clothes and cooed at new luxuries and thought about nothing but life and the future.

It had been a very long time, Rourke reflected, that he’d walked through the sort of place he was ostensibly serving to protect and actually paid attention to it. Even now he felt a lot of it slide off him, his perceptions blunting themselves to see the couples holding hands but obfuscating the star-struck look in their eyes, to hear the children laughing at the holographic adverts bending down to tease and taunt them to the next play-area but blurring the faces of the watching, indulgent parents.

After Teros, he’d locked away a lot of his feelings without thinking about it, and when they’d started to creep back they had done so with paranoia and fear. It was like he walked through blackened and twisted woods, where the clear route was numb emptiness devoid of feeling, but to pick his own path was to surge first into thorns of stinging guilt and pain.

And now he headed for the Starfleet Intelligence Field Office on Qualor II, and knew he was about to shoulder his way into the thickest patch of brambles.

This was not a cloak and dagger affair, but a well-guarded building with a front office and uniformed staff, and because he’d sent word ahead he was received at the lobby and escorted to see Lieutenant Commander Jeremiah Slater with very little wait. Even though Rourke was running late after his conversation with Beckett, he was ushered into Slater’s office at once, because at the end of the day he was still a Starfleet captain – and one with a considerable amount of heft in this particular situation.

Slater’s office was small, clean and crisp and devoid of personal touches, and Rourke reflected that his former Chief Engineer had never been a very interesting man. But Slater was on his feet at the sight of him, hands clasped before him. ‘Captain Rourke,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I believe I, and my entire office, owes you a significant apology.’

Rourke glanced back at the closed door, and drew a slow, calming breath before he advanced on Slater’s desk. ‘Go on.’ It wasn’t patience that kept him collected, but rather the knowledge that once his control went, he’d never harness it again.

‘There was an underestimation of the Star Empire’s commitment to apprehending you.’ Slater spoke rather quickly. ‘By myself and by my asset, who should have better vetted, or prepared, or paid, the captain of the Pienem. He had been used for very minor work before this, and we thought that aiding a prison break on Tagrador was something he’d do for the right pay. It seems we were wrong.’

Silence dragged out between them, until Rourke drew a long, raking breath. ‘It all worked out,’ he said. ‘But I’ll need you to make it clear to Admiral Beckett that your plan, your contacts, your assets were why the mission failed, and why Commander Valance was forced to bring Endeavour into Imperial territory. If I hear so much of a sniff of you trying to let blame land on my XO, there’ll be the devil to pay, Jerry, I swear.’

Jeremiah Slater straightened. If there was one thing he would remember, it was Rourke’s loyalty to his crew, even if Rourke himself knew he’d betrayed that loyalty in recent weeks. But he could begin to correct it now.

‘There is,’ said Slater carefully, ‘a convenient position for the Diplomatic Service to take that I can recommend to First Secretary Hale. That the Tagrador system was once part of the Neutral Zone, and it is only de facto part of the Romulan Star Empire now. If we threaten the argument that we do not recognise Imperial sovereignty over Tagrador, that can keep this issue to the back rooms.’

‘Do it.’

‘Okay. Okay.’ Slater lifted his hands. ‘Intel dropped the ball, sir. I accept that. But I don’t think this situation is over. I did a little digging on Commander Lotharn. It looks like he’s been assigned not necessarily to deal with you, but with territory and influence disputes with Starfleet during the current… situation. He might be a warbird commander, but he’s a veteran of border security and enforcing Imperial authority on the fringes. Accustomed to a lot of latitude to get the job done. Interestingly, there are several notes in his records of protests lodged against Imperial policy, which hasn’t won him any friends on Rator. It probably keeps him in the provinces.’

‘So I get the veteran ideologue who cares more about his principles than his career. Great.’ Rourke knew he should be concerned by this, but felt only the sinking numbness. Not for what he’d been through, not this time, but for what lay ahead. Immediately ahead.

‘I’ll monitor the situation and make sure you’re briefed directly,’ said Slater, somewhat obsequious in his guilt. ‘And ensure these recommendations reach Admiral Beckett and the First Secretary. But there’ll be -’

‘Jerry.’ Rourke’s voice came out like it had been dragged over gravel, and though he spoke quietly it was enough to make Slater shut up. He met his gaze, jaw tight as he fought for a thudding heartbeat over his words. ‘We’re not even yet.’

Slater straightened. ‘Sir?’

‘Why…’ Rourke’s mouth was dry, and he had to swallow before he could press on, glaring at the wall before he advanced on the desk and forced himself to look Slater in the eye. ‘I wasn’t around for most of the inquiry on the Firebrand. I showed up, but the details…’

A flinch from Slater. ‘I know, sir. I don’t begrudge you that. It was awful.’

His apparent sympathy finally stirred a feeling in Rourke. And the darkness in him began to boil. ‘Don’t. Don’t give me your pity, Jerry. You cooperated with the inquiry, you worked with Intel to find out who’d sold us out, who’d sold them out, got them all killed, and for a long time I assumed I didn’t hear more because it was dealt with in back rooms instead of courts of justice.’

‘I… more or less, but I’m not at liberty to -’

‘Then why the hell,’ hissed Rourke, ‘have I seen footage from Glenda Tharos less than a year ago of you on that planet with Erik and Lily?’

Slater’s expression went slack, eyes widening with dawning horror. ‘Oh, no, you don’t – I don’t – sir -’

‘If you say I don’t have clearance to know, I swear, Jerry, I’m going to get myself court martialled -’

‘You saw that? Oh my God, sir, it’s not what you think…’ There was a panicked edge to Slater’s voice that dulled the rage blossoming within Rourke, a fear that didn’t quite speak of being caught out in a lie. ‘That’s not – it isn’t – they’re dead, sir, I swear to God that Commanders Halvard and Winters died on that Orion ship.’

‘Jerry -’

‘It was a counter-intel op!’ Slater burst out in horror. ‘God, I’m violating more than a few regs for this, but if you saw that footage…’ He lifted his hands to his head, stunned. ‘I can’t go into details, sir, I cannot. It is linked to what happened to them, to the security leak that blew the Firebrand’s mission. Glenda Tharos was a counter-intel op to try to mislead Orion Syndicate agents and sow chaos in their own intelligence network. I’m so sorry, sir, but they’re dead.’

It was just a photograph. That was what Rourke had told himself for the long months since he’d seen the picture, something anyone could doctor or falsify, even though Josephine Logan had run all manner of checks to confirm the footage’s authenticity. But those didn’t guard against holograms, surgical alteration, or anything else that might help it look like the dead whose bodies had never been recovered were not, in fact, dead.

It was just a photograph. It wasn’t proof. And yet there had been faint nugget of hope that nestled its way into all the pain and loss that had once driven him from front-line service, pushed him back to a hole in Starfleet Academy where he could wait to die. It had wormed into the hurt he’d marshalled and numbed, the hurt he thought he’d conquered by returning to the stars, commanding Endeavour – by feeling again. Jeremiah Slater’s words told him nothing he didn’t already know, not really. And still a little bit more of him blackened and charred and turned to ash inside.

Rourke’s shoulders felt very heavy all of a sudden, and he reached out to rest his bulk against Slater’s desk, staring at the smooth metal whose coldness he couldn’t quite feel. ‘If you’re lying to me, Jerry…’

Even though his words sounded empty even to himself – even though Jeremiah Slater could spin any yarn he wanted and Rourke knew he was in no position to do anything about it – Slater’s response was a panicked babble. ‘I swear, sir. I’m so sorry that you saw that. I know what they meant to you, I know what Commander Winters meant to you, I know what losing them all meant to you… I was there, on that bridge, and…’ Slater’s voice creaked with guilt and grief. ‘They were my friends, too.’

Rourke shoved himself straight at that, Slater’s emotions coming dangerously close to stoking his own. At last control slammed back down, his words coming out gruff but firm. ‘I’ve made my expectations clear, Commander. None of this will fall on Karana Valance, you understand?’

‘I… of course, sir.’

Rourke wasn’t much aware of leaving Slater’s office, or even the field office as a whole. The humid air of Qualor II on his face, the kaleidoscope of the night-life’s lights in his eyes, the sound of hundreds of thousands of people living their lives all around him, were all like a dull roar on his senses once he staggered into the street.

He needed to get back to Endeavour. He needed to focus on whatever Nate Beckett would dig out of Argus’s archives, the entire reason he’d pushed his crew so hard, pushed them away so hard, languished in a Romulan prison.

But he really, really wanted to find a bar.

The sheer amount of music in the Starfleet databanks was a source of gentle bewilderment to Dathan. It was such a simple thing to gather a collection of pleasing sounds, but each and every piece she listened to was a snapshot of a culture. Far beyond her reach by time or space, flicking through the database at random still transported her to different ways of life in a manner that had never been possible – permitted – back home.

So in the relief of being in her own quarters, where her own space was refreshing but the silence of nothing but her own company smothering, she had started to work her way through Klingon acid punk. Loudly. She spoke enough Klingon to get the gist of it, but the words weren’t what mattered; what she needed was the thumping bass and for the volume to be high enough to make the bulkheads shake, and it was a small miracle that she heard the door-chime. That, at least, made her turn the music off.

But her gaze turned suspicious when she opened the door to find Greg Carraway and Adamant Rhade. ‘This looks like an intervention.’

‘It was actually just a quick check-in,’ said Carraway with an easy smile. ‘I ran into Adamant on the way.’

Rhade straightened, hands clasped behind his back. ‘I wanted to be sure you were doing well, Lieutenant. But if the counsellor’s here to see -’

‘You can both come in,’ she decided; despite herself, the warmth of company was soothing. ‘Because at least that way Greg won’t think he’s here to give me therapy.’

‘It’s important you schedule a session after what you’ve been through,’ Carraway said as they padded inside. ‘But it’s also important we have boundaries, and that you don’t think I’m chasing you down when in reality, we’re friends coming to see if you’re okay.’

Friends. The word clattered inside her, but she didn’t hate it. ‘Then make yourselves at home. I don’t really entertain… or decorate…’

Carraway headed for the replicator, but Rhade wandered the room to observe the personal touches applied with an aesthetic one could generously call spartan. ‘I once thought there was little point to collecting things that would just need carrying when I was often on the move,’ Rhade mused. ‘But even small touches can connect us to home.’

‘I expect you have a lot of Betazoid art,’ she said wryly.

‘Betazoid art tends to, ah, intimidate a lot of non-Betazoid guests,’ was his discreet answer.

‘Leave her alone, Adamant,’ said Carraway cheerfully, and turned back with a trio of bottles of what she had the sneaking suspicion were craft-synthales. ‘We’re here to unwind, not makeover.’

‘I was trying to be helpful,’ he said apologetically as they accepted the beers. ‘Sometimes something very small can make all the difference, and is little practical inconvenience.’

She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Such as?’

Now he hesitated. ‘I have a collection of holographic pictures,’ Rhade said at length. ‘Of planets I have visited, when I have the chance. Of their trees.’

‘Their trees.’

‘If they are unique to that ecosystem, yes. I like trees. And in holographic form, it packs down very easily…’

Carraway gave a good-natured chuckle. ‘Breaking down that persistent image of the action man of duty, there, Adamant?’

Rhade’s smile was self-conscious but sincere. ‘I have never wanted anyone to think I only breathe duty and have no personal interests or sense of aesthetic. I once knew an officer who collected soil samples from every world he set foot on, but that would rapidly become bulky, so…’

‘Tree pictures.’ Dathan smirked despite herself. ‘You’re right. This did cheer me up.’

He shifted his feet. ‘Then I suppose being mocked for my interests is worth it,’ said Rhade wryly.

‘I see you’re out of the brig, at least,’ she pressed on, because the rumour mill was inadequate when she could go straight to the source. ‘I wondered if you’d been let out just for the mission.’

‘That would have still placed an unacceptable degree of restrictions on Lieutenant Kharth and myself as we planned for the rescue. Accepting the arrangement with Starfleet JAG became the only option, though Captain Rourke has not yet established what disciplinary measures he’ll take.’

Carraway shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t pretend you only did it for pragmatism’s sake, Adamant. It’s okay for us to change our minds as circumstances change. That’s a sign of growth and strength, not weakness.’

‘I would object,’ said Dathan, ‘to you sneaking some impromptu therapy in there, but at least it’s not at me.’

Rhade sighed. ‘You are correct, Counsellor, I suppose. Remaining in the brig in a time like that – like this, our work is not over – had become untenable. I’d thought not objecting to the destruction of the Erem was unimaginable, that it was my duty to fight this corner, but as it transpired, I had only terrible choices before me. I chose the one I could live with.’

Dathan frowned. ‘What changed?’

His eyes on hers were suspicious in their surprise, but he spoke plainly. ‘People needed me, people who relied on me. Not abstract conceptions of people who want the Federation’s principles to remain intact, but colleagues, comrades. My captain. You. Letting you down was unacceptable.’

In a thousand years, she thought, she would never understand a man who could openly utter such vulnerable sincerities as if it were as simple as commenting on the weather.

To her relief, Carraway piped up in the silence that followed, easy smile taking any sting from the rawness of Rhade’s words. ‘So I figured,’ he said, pottering over to the wall display opposite the couch, ‘we could kick back with these beers and watch the Academy Parrises Squares finals. And that way we don’t have to do anything like talk.’

Dathan had given herself a crash-course on these sporting events a year ago, and she still found Parrises Squares to be a jumbled mess. It was, at least, something she found men relished explaining. But that instinct, of using this as an opportunity for them to feel self-important around her in a way that would have them letting their guard down, was distant and dulled. To her surprise, her predominant feeling was only relief at the idea – company, diversion, and a camaraderie with no need to share. She should not have been shocked a counsellor thought of it. She was a little shocked someone had thought of it for her.

‘I’m in,’ she said, going to the couch. ‘But you’ll have to bring me up to speed on this year’s contenders.’

* *

When Valance opened her door to find a bleary-eyed Matt Rourke, it took her a moment through the shock to realise that this had never happened before. He’d never visited her quarters, or vice versa; in all they’d been through, they’d spent their time together in offices, conference rooms, or the mess.

Still, she stepped back and ushered him in. ‘Sir, can I… what can I do for you?’

He moved like a mountain in danger of shattering, shambling his bulk inside. She did not know if it was luck that Cortez was not here, or if he’d checked. His gaze swept over her rooms with that assessing glint of his despite the numbness hanging over him, though she suspected his investigator’s eye was cataloguing observations for later rather than particularly seeing. ‘Coffee,’ he rasped at last. ‘I think I’d like a cup of coffee, Commander.’

To her relief, he sat at her small table. Somehow having her captain on her couch would have felt like a shift too far in boundaries, even though she wasn’t sure what to make of his condition. He’d been grim-faced and tense when she’d seen him in Sickbay after the rescue mission, but Sadek had given him the all-clear, and the debriefing had been conducted with his usual brusqueness.

A fear clutched at her as she replicated two mugs. Now at Qualor, had he heard from Command? She’d violated Romulan borders, not reported a crisis to her superiors, broken regulations, and she didn’t enjoy the apparent latitude of starship captains in this crisis. Was he here as the bearer of bad news, and she’d simply never seen him like this before because news had never been so bad?

‘I’m sorry,’ said Rourke once the coffee was in front of him, and that didn’t help her tension. She remained standing, hands wrapped around the mug even though it threatened to scald. ‘Coming here like this, I mean. It’s important you have… we have…’ He gestured vaguely between them. ‘Space.’

Then he burst out laughing, burying his face in his hands, and even though she could hear the bitterness in him, all she could do was stare in aghast confusion.

‘Sir,’ she managed at last, swallowing. ‘Are you drunk?’

‘No.’ He dragged his hands down his face. ‘I wish. Came close. But then I realised I wouldn’t stop if I started. Shit.’ He took a swig of too-hot coffee, and hissed at the pain. ‘Shit.’

She pulled up the chair opposite. ‘I hear Ensign Beckett is in the lab now with Argus’s records,’ she said, scrabbling for some sanity in this apparent breakdown. ‘Lieutenant Thawn says we should have the location of Ephrath soon.’

‘She’s a good officer, isn’t she,’ said Rourke, staring at the table. ‘Thawn. We rag on her, but she’s a bloody genius, and yet you and I both think less of her just because she wants to do her job and impress her superiors. As if we resent her for not disobeying us. While we resent those who did disobey.’

‘I… have a newfound respect for her. I think she’s grown up a lot more in the last year than I’d noticed. You were right about how I needed to do better at tapping the potential we had, instead of railing against the crew for not being who I wanted.’

Rourke’s expression folded. ‘I need to thank you for saving my life. Again, probably against orders, pretty much against my wishes.’

‘What was I to do, sir?’ Valance swallowed. ‘Leave you behind?’

‘It would not -’ He stopped himself, an drew a raking breath as their eyes met. ‘I’ve not earned that loyalty from you lately, Commander. You saved my life against the Wild Hunt. You stayed as my XO when you could have your own ship by now. You held the line when Rhade and Kharth defied me. And now this. Over and over, you have stood by me, and for at least the last weeks I have not…’ He shook his head, jaw tight. ‘I’ve kept you out.’

Her lips thinned. ‘You have a habit of doing that, sir, when times are hard. I think you prefer to crawl inside your own mind so you don’t have to face the horrors, and sharing burdens would require speaking of them more than you’re ready. And I can see that, sir, because I’ve found I… rather share that instinct.’ She shook her head. ‘I haven’t watched your back so you’d be nice to me, Captain. I did it because it’s my job. And because I trust you.’

‘And I trust you,’ Rourke blurted, shoulders slumping. ‘Christ, I trusted you so much on Teros, I gave you everything I could short of violating regulations.’ His words were beginning to tumble over themselves as he spoke, a wave of emotion she wasn’t used to seeing so openly from him. ‘I trusted you, and it meant I made you kill fifty-three people on no more than my word.’

Her stomach dropped out. ‘That’s not…’

‘I kept you as my right hand, and that’s what my right hand had to do. That’s why I shut you out since, Commander. I took things on, I stopped relying on you, or anyone, so that…’ She saw him force himself to meet her gaze. ‘So you didn’t have to do anything else heinous on my command, without question or insight or understanding that I still cannot give you.’

‘If I wanted – no, if I needed that insight, that understanding of the bigger picture, sir… I’d have taken that command you secured for me months ago. I wouldn’t have stayed as your XO. That was my choice, knowing what being a first officer entails.’ Valance leaned in. ‘Because I believe in the team we have on Endeavour, I believe in the missions we’re sent on. And, yes, sir. I believe in you. Even if that means I don’t always understand what you ask of me. I do it. But be damned sure that I will tell you if I think you’re wrong.’

Consternation tugged at his brow there. ‘I don’t think I understand,’ he admitted at length, ‘why you obeyed me at Teros and Kharth and Rhade didn’t.’

‘I’ve seen you employ force before, sir, but I’ve seen you wrestle with it, contemplate it. I’ve seen you withhold information from your staff, but always for the good of the mission. And frankly, sir… I’ve seen more of how you care about your crew than them. Of what you’ve lost.’ She swallowed. ‘I know what we mean to you, and I know you wouldn’t ask us to do anything like that without good cause.’

He gave a stiff nod, voice creaking as he said, ‘I don’t know what else I could have done. I’ve gone over it a thousand times, and I see no other way. But that was my decision, Commander, not yours.’

She leaned forward, gaze intent. ‘You gave the order, but I fired the weapons, sir. And it was awful, and I have to live with it, and there is no way you can relieve me of that burden. But I do not regret it. So if the Romulan Star Empire wants to hunt you down for that, sir, they’ll have to come through me.’

Their eyes met, and when the low, rueful chuckle escaped his lips, she knew it was a release rather than a mockery. ‘It’s still been made clear to me that I haven’t treated you… any of you… how I should. I’ve kept you at bay to make myself feel better, and some of you I’ve used to make my life easier. Nate Beckett, bold as you like, bloody well called me on it, and then I had another reminder I’ve had one foot half in the past, but…’ His voice trailed off at that, and he waved a dismissive hand. ‘I owe you all better.’

‘Then I suppose you have two choices, sir.’ Valance’s lips twitched. ‘Either report to Counsellor Carraway. Or do better.’

He nodded, and his eyes began to clear as if the fugue state that had brought him to her quarters was finally passing. He glanced around. ‘I’m intruding on your personal time.’

‘It’s fine, sir, this is far more important than anything else.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Rourke frowned. ‘Debriefing with Intel was… difficult. You should know that I’ve made it clear that they’ll take the blame for any fallout, not you. None of this will fall on you.’

She hadn’t realised that a part of her had feared his obligations, the crisis that cast aside regulations but shackled him to new requirements, would see him allow her to be sacrificed on the altar of consequences. But still his words sank deep, and she breathed easier as she nodded. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘I came here because I needed to… I suppose say all that I did. Find a way through what’s next. I couldn’t see what’s next.’ He frowned at his coffee and finally had a gulp, though it had to be tepid by now. ‘And I should probably make peace with Aisha at some point.’

He’d fallen out with his best friend, and so in the worst state she’d ever seen him, he’d come to her. Their relationship was barely on a last name basis, let alone first name, and she’d still been the only person he could come to. It was one of the first times Valance comprehended the sheer loneliness of the captaincy, and again she was relieved for her decision to not seek it out yet. Still she said, ‘Perhaps, but you’re welcome here, sir. Whatever you need.’

Rourke nodded, something approximating a smile finally tugging at his lips. ‘Then if you’ve still got time, Commander,’ he said quietly. ‘Let’s talk our staffing situation…’

* *

‘Thank you, Chief.’ Thawn gave T’Kalla a tight smile as she clutched the PADD with all its freshly-downloaded content from the CIC. ‘I didn’t want to disturb Lieutenant Dathan.’

‘Oh, she’s back at work,’ said T’Kalla, shrugging. ‘But no need to call her down here for a simple data-sharing thing. What’s this for, the maps?’

‘I want to combine what we have with the most up-to-date strategic information, as well as astronomical,’ Thawn confirmed. ‘Because, well, we’re going to be asked that question anyway no matter what we present. I might as well get out in front of it.’ She hesitated. ‘How is Lieutenant Dathan?’

‘You mean, has there been any indication she’s had so much as an emotional reaction to being locked in a Romulan prison camp? No.’ T’Kalla looked her up and down. ‘I should say, though. Good work getting Lieutenant Rhade out of the brig.’

Thawn’s expression pinched. ‘That wasn’t me. He had no interest in changing his mind when I spoke with him. And my recommendation to Commander Valance didn’t include his permanent release.’

T’Kalla froze like she suspected she’d accidentally approached a land-mine. ‘Got it. Sorry.’

‘No apology needed, Chief. His decisions are his own.’ And plainly do not include me, she didn’t say, as she gave T’Kalla her thanks and left the CIC.

That had put her in a bad enough mood on her way to astrometrics that the sight of Lieutenant Kharth heading down the corridor towards her was insult added to injury. She would have kept going, limiting their interaction to a polite nod, but a look of apprehension crossed Kharth’s face and the Romulan moved to intercept her. ‘Lieutenant Thawn.’

‘Is this urgent?’ She stopped, holding her PADD against herself like a shield. ‘I have analysis work to conduct on Argus’s archives with Ensign Beckett.’

‘It’s not urgent.’ Kharth hesitated. ‘It doesn’t have to be long, though. Didn’t think you’d be one for a drawn-out, emotional conversation, but…’ She winced. ‘I owe you an apology. Damn it, people say that and don’t actually – I am sorry. I should have said that a while ago.’

‘You might,’ Thawn said frostily, ‘have to be more specific.’

‘Elgatis,’ Kharth blurted. ‘I was angry about Otero and Palacio, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair. You did well on that op getting everyone through the refinery in time to rescue the civvies, and you did really well on this rescue mission. Not to mention we’d been through a bit with the Wild Hunt operation together, so I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. And even if none of that were true, it still wouldn’t justify me blaming you for the D’Ghor killing Hazard Team members on a dangerous mission.’

Thawn wasn’t sure if the apology was simply several months too late by now, if she was too strung-out by the recent fraught weeks, or if T’Kalla reminding her of how little Adamant Rhade cared about her life had left her in too foul a mood to be sympathetic. ‘Well,’ she said, and tilted her chin up. ‘As an officer who isn’t playing chicken with her own career and the professional respect of everyone on board this ship… your apology is noted, Lieutenant.’

She watched as Kharth’s awkwardness faded for irritation, and by now she could sense her instinctive pull to aggression, the urge to lash out in response. But, for once, Kharth clamped down on it and reasserted control. ‘I won’t keep you any more, then, Lieutenant Thawn.’

The trip to astrometrics did not, at least, include any further interruptions. Beckett and Lindgren were already there, the holographic maps spilling out for a region of space they had gone over what felt like a thousand times already – but now with shining new data points on the star chart.

‘Do we have it?’ Thawn asked, bright-eyed as she realised they’d already uploaded the records from Argus’s archives. Then she frowned at them. ‘What are you drinking?’

Lindgren gave a bashful smile. ‘Nate brought up slushies from the surface. Qualor II speciality.’

He lifted a hand, the look of innocence undermined by a straw sticking out the corner of his mouth. ‘Don’t look at me like that! Yours is on the replicator. Kept it cool for you.’

While the maps were exciting, she did, she realised, really want a slushie. Cautious, Thawn headed to the replicator. ‘What did you get me?’

‘Betazed sambucus and Earth raspberry.’ She cast him a suspicious look, and Beckett shrugged. ‘What? I asked Elsa what you like and I ordered it, don’t look at me like I read your diary or -’

‘It’s fine,’ she blurted, and picked up the cup. At his cautious look, she sighed. ‘Thank you, Ensign. So. The maps?’

He smirked, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. But he turned back to the maps and couldn’t disguise the excitement as he reached out to bring their view in. ‘So it didn’t take long! We’ve gone over the first half of the collection enough that we know these maps back-to-front, though Elsa has had a whale of a time with the rest of Argus’s archive – he gave us the whole thing – and I’m running myself a hot bath to read some sexy, sexy ancient Tkon records when this is over -’

‘Beckett.’

‘I don’t know,’ murmured Lindgren. ‘I might pour myself a glass of wine for this later; Argus was sitting on a hell of a find…’

‘You can make personal plans later!’ said Thawn, flushing, and all of her indignation was gently ruined by the slurp of a slushie. ‘The maps, Beckett?’

‘Oh! We were right. It is in the Velorum Nebula.’ He snapped his fingers, and brought the map zooming in. ‘You know, that super-accessible phenomenon smack-bang on the all-new Republic-Empire Romulan border, about which we know little and I’m not sure a Starfleet ship’s ever been into? But that’s a problem for command staff and diplomats.’ The astrometric display finally settled on one dot within the swirling mass of the Velorum Nebula, shining bright and gold amid the interstellar dust cloud.

Nate Beckett took a step back, and swept his hand across like he was introducing something to a stage. ‘There it is, ladies. The find of our careers, and what all of this fuss has been about. I give you the sister-star to Horizon, I give you Tui Havran, the Fruitful Wanderer… I give you Ephrath.’