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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I won’t mind -’

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

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

Xhakaza frowned. ‘Sir, these people –’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Go for it,’ said Rourke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kharth grimaced. ‘Nothing about Teros is fun.’

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

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

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

‘Airex?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You think?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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