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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The abyss did not have to pull them in.