Captain’s log, stardate 2401.9. We received the automated distress calls from the USS Endeavour and the Romulan Republic ship Ihhliae in the Senias system. So far from the Federation border, even at maximum warp, our response time was less than I’d like. We’ve found no sign of either ship, but instead, a subspace aperture my Chief Science Officer assures me leads to the Underspace, matching reports of phenomena showing up all over known space. Which means I now have a missing ship and a massive galactic shift to deal with all at once.

The strategic operations centre of the USS Sirius was almost enough to put the squadron offices on Gateway Station to shame. Even more modern, this beating heart of the unit’s business had a constant hum of activity, the undertakings of each ship its own melody with Strategic Operations Officer Commander Harrian Cal the conductor, the one who had to pull it all together into a symphony for Commodore Matt Rourke’s ears.

Today, squadron commander Rourke was not a happy audience. ‘Where the hell is the Tempest?’ he snapped, refusing to keep his seat, facing the circular display and analysis panel in the middle of the SOC like a child who did not want to settle down for dinner.

Harrian, tall and strong and looking every inch the man of action but, in truth, considerate and patient and rather gentle, was in many ways the best person to deal with this tantrum of a shepherd who had lost one of his flock. ‘Captain Tycho met the last check-in,’ he reminded Rourke calmly. ‘There’s no reason to be concerned.’

‘We’ve lost Endeavour. We’ve lost a Republic ship. Ships are being eaten up all over the galaxy. Why shouldn’t I be concerned, Cal?’

‘I don’t think there’s any reason to be especially concerned,’ ventured Edmund Locke, the Sirius’s new Chief Science Officer. He ran a hand through wild hair to tame it and failed spectacularly before he fumbled his PADD. ‘Underspace travel has been undertaken by a slew of starships over the last few decades, and the Endeavour is perhaps the most resilient ship possible -’

‘To be dragged, damaged, into a singularity? Into a network of tunnels so dangerous Starfleet doesn’t try to navigate them without the help of people who’ve travelled them for centuries?’ Rourke snapped, rounding on the younger man. ‘Endeavour’s the best ship for that, huh?’ In his more uncharitable moments, he felt that whether someone referred to his old ship as ‘the Endeavour’ or just ‘Endeavour’ was a fine litmus test to determine if they were a prick. In truth, it was a petty, gatekeeping shibboleth for who was part of his inner circle or not, and today, Locke was not one of his.

To Commander Locke’s credit, the gawky scientist didn’t waver. ‘A Constitution III-class ship with a seasoned crew who know their vessel’s capabilities? Yes, sir.’

That might have calmed Rourke down, but on the far side of the StratOps centre was the one other person aboard who had perhaps less patience than him.

‘With a brand new chief engineer!’ burst Commander Cortez, squadron SCE leader and former CEO of Endeavour. ‘We’ve no idea what state they were in when the gravitational pull of these apertures got them; the fact it was the automated distress call ain’t great.’

‘There’s no way to be sure,’ said Locke in a level, hopeful voice. ‘But I don’t think there’s reason to panic.’

‘I think there’s no reason to be optimistic.’

‘Okay!’ There were only five of them in StratOps, and while Harrian was perhaps the best person to calm down Rourke, he didn’t necessarily have power over anyone else. This, perhaps, was why Commander Shepherd, the Sirius’s XO, now waded in, hands raised. ‘There’s a lot of big feelings here, huh?’

Cortez rounded on her with unusual venom. ‘Big feelings like a whole ship-’

‘Yeah, they’re my friends too, Isa.’ Shep didn’t bat an eyelid as she turned from the shorter engineer to the hulking anger of the squadron commander. ‘And it was my ship, too, sir. I’m scared for them. But they’re not all we have to think about.’

For a moment, Rourke considered snapping at Shep’s condescension. She had been on Endeavour for months, not years; hadn’t fought and bled alongside most of that crew. But Shep’s gift was wearing her heart on her sleeve and never letting it stop her from doing her job, and it was by this example that she humbled him enough to be silent for a moment, think, and calm down.

It didn’t mean he would back down. Still leaning over the chair, squatting above it like an incalcitrant gargoyle, he turned his glower back to Harrian. ‘Give me the rest.’

With a relieved glance to Shep, Harrian cleared his throat. ‘Liberty and Redemption are on their way. Swiftsure is still aiding the Republic border defences. Ranger has been shifted to a long-range patrol footing, to be joined by Tempest once she checks in, with Independence leading the picket line on Gateway’s vicinity along with her smallcraft.’

‘And our allies in the Republic? The Klingons?’

‘The Republic have reported some of these apertures. We’ve certainly seen reduced Klingon border activity, starting at the same time.’

‘It stands to reason,’ ventured Locke, ‘that it’s happening in their space, too. And they’ll be much less-equipped to deal with it. There’s no reason for the Klingons to know what Underspace is, let alone have as many available science ships to study it. It’s standard Klingon practice to consolidate and observe a potential threat – continuing to maraud the Romulan border might leave them exposed.’

Rourke cast him a look. ‘Expert in Klingon strategic thinking, are you, Commander?’

‘As an anthropologist?’ Locke gave an apologetic smile. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then as my Chief Science Officer,’ said Rourke, irritable, ‘what do you think about sending a ship in after Endeavour?’

‘Very possible, sir,’ came the surprising reply, and Locke fished out a PADD covered in scribbling calculations. ‘I’ve consulted with Commander Danjuma. Our probes at the mouth of the aperture have been studying conditions inside. It seems navigable, with appropriate preparation. Moreover, through studying the disturbances to the tachyon particles, we’re picking up an oscillation frequency that could match the Endeavour’s engine emissions.’

Cortez leaned forward. ‘That trail won’t last forever.’ Her eyes lit up, turned to Rourke, pleading.

He didn’t let his gaze linger on her, knowing he had to disappoint her. ‘We have to hold our position until at least the Redemption arrives. The aperture can’t be left unobserved.’

‘More time gives me a better chance of picking up a trail of the Ihhliae, too,’ said Locke. ‘There’s a high chance both ships were buffeted by the gravimetric distortions and tachyon particle flows and sent down the corridors. We shouldn’t assume they’re together.’

‘The Republic will want their ship back,’ said Harrian, tone mild, his own gaze on Rourke guarded. Rourke understood; however much they wanted Endeavour back, rescuing a Republic ship would do wonders for their relationship with their allies. That couldn’t be overlooked.

‘We’ll consider our options once Redemption and Liberty are here,’ Rourke said with a nod. ‘I bet, Commander Locke, you’d say Liberty is perfectly suited to follow this trail?’

Locke looked like he knew this was a trap, but nodded. Cortez made a frustrated sound.

‘There’s one more problem beyond the science of it all: this is a set of passageways. Just as we’re losing ships through it, who else is passing into Underspace? Who’s going to appear here?’ Rourke mused. ‘Don’t tell me there aren’t Klingon raiders who wouldn’t love to show up the far side of Republic lines.’

‘Or Gorn, Kazon, Tzenkethi,’ added Shep. ‘If any of them got sucked into Underspace and spat out here, they’ll be hopping mad.’

‘There are strategic implications we can’t overlook. However.’ Rourke raised a hand to forestall any brewing protest at this pragmatic way of viewing matters. ‘There are diplomatic implications. Speaking of, I need to catch up with the ambassador. Thanks for your time, everyone. Locke, keep looking for a lead. Cortez, keep your toe in; you know Endeavour’s systems better than anyone.’

Harrian tucked his PADD under his arm. ‘I’ll give you hourly update on squadron or wider movements, sir.’

‘And I’ll keep, uh, watching a hole in space,’ said Shep with a shrug.

Despite being given her marching orders, Cortez followed Rourke out of StratOps. Sirius’s corridors were wider than on most ships – not by much, but enough to convey the casual opulence of such a luxurious vessel. Burgundy carpets and brass fixtures lined decks and bulkheads, the interior of this mighty beast reflecting the resplendency of a once-ascendant Starfleet. Rourke had never been a man of such an age, always at the sharper edges of the Federation.

But he was important, now. A flag officer. He was already pushing the boundaries by being aboard a starship, stood before a rift in space with untold threats and opportunities. Gone was the age of the gunboat. Now came the era of the cruise liner.

Being back on the front line meant the kinds of everyday decisions he thrived on, but he knew he wasn’t going to thrive on the decision Cortez was about to put in front of him as she kept pace.

‘Sir, any search for Endeavour is going to require a tremendous amount of technical expertise once it’s underway…’

‘Which obviously I have to send the SCE along for?’ Rourke said sharply. ‘Should I tell Lann to buckle up so we’re sure we’ve got you for any technical support monitoring or managing the aperture?’

‘Sir…’

Rourke stopped mid-stride, and glanced up and down the corridor to make sure the coast was clear. Sirius was a kilometre long, but the near-two thousand strong crew meant sure her hallways never felt empty. StratOps was in a less foot-traffic-heavy part of the ship; just a few decks up was the gallery, with its array of green spaces and myriad of comfortable lounges, several themed. It was enough to feel like he was on a starbase. Here, though, he could discuss in private in the middle of an opulent corridor.

‘I want them found, too,’ Rourke said, trying to sound firm and compassionate at the same time. ‘You know I do. But I’m going to do what’s best for the unit. We still don’t know what’s going on with this aperture. With the implications. We have a duty to find our lost ship – we also have a duty to the Midgard Sector. To the quadrant.’

I can’t send you just because you want to find your missing ex. He’d always felt a strange guilt over Valance and Cortez’s collapsing relationship. It had been by his hand that Valance had secured her own command, forcing the couple apart. He had no doubt his former XO was exactly where she needed to be, on the bridge of Endeavour if he couldn’t be, and no doubt the two women were adults who could navigate their own lives. But it was hard to not feel a gleam of culpability.

Cortez bit her lip, on the back foot by his softening nevertheless. ‘We are going after them, right?’

‘Once we get backup here, and I can consult with Faust, and I know what my options are, I’ll make a decision.’ But that wouldn’t be enough, and he brought a hand to Cortez’s shoulder. ‘You know I won’t leave them, Isa.’

It was all he could promise now, and she knew it would have to do. She seemed to accept that, and he knew all she really needed was reassurance, a sense of being less alone. He should have given more, he thought. Who else aboard really understood? Rhade, perhaps, Aisha Sadek, but they were the two who’d bled into the decks and brought the ship back into their bones.

She let him go, and he knew he’d have to reach out to her later. But for now, he still had work to do.

And to see to his own soul-scars.

It was out of deference to those wounds that he’d asked Sophia Hale to meet him with her update in his quarters. Ellie was still at the shipboard school; he’d worried his daughter would feel disturbed by relocating from Gateway to Sirius, but she’d found the idea of living with him on a starship rather than a starbase considerably more exciting. He’d considered asking Hale to not keep her own quarters aboard, but their relationship was still too fledgling for him to broach the idea of her formally living with just not him, but his teenaged daughter.

He still had a suite of rooms, hardly less comfortable than aboard Gateway. Stretching across two decks, downstairs was an open-plan space for living and eating, with a recessed area before the wide windows lined with comfortable seating. The door to Ellie’s bedroom lay off to one side, while for half the living room, the ceiling stretched up across both decks. A stairway led to an open balcony, also facing the window, and beyond doors behind were Rourke’s bedroom and study.

Hale had the codes to come and go as she pleased, rarely using her own small rooms, and today was no exception. She sat in the recessed area, lounged on the sofas with a blanket and a steaming cup of coffee, PADDs before her as if she were considering how they might continue adjusting the interior decorating from its default, impersonal settings. Rourke knew full well there were no drape swatches on her PADD.

‘I have good news,’ she said in a soft voice as he came in, clearly seeing he needed it. ‘The Elkari don’t know what’s going on, but they’re eager to be involved.’ The indigenous people of the Rho Detara system were former vassals of the Star Empire, and had accepted some of Starfleet’s support in flexing their newly independent muscles. ‘They seem to have an open mind when it comes to opportunity and change.’

‘It’s worked out pretty well for them,’ Rourke conceded, loosening his uniform collar as he ambled over. The weight of the ship felt like it sloughed off him as he approached. Burdens couldn’t evaporate, but when he was with her, they felt shared. ‘Are they aware of the threat?’

‘I think they feel comforted that we’re involved,’ Hale said wryly. ‘The Romulans of Rencaris would like more information and remind me at every turn of their independence. But they have already been asking about the implications for trade.’

‘Then let’s keep them optimistic. So far, the aperture hasn’t done anything after the initial chaos, and nothing’s come out of it.’ With a groan, he slumped onto the sofa beside her, and scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘If we can avoid local panic, so much the better.’

‘I’m sure your new science boy can wax lyrical about what will actually happen,’ mused Hale, resting her head on her elbow as she watched him, ‘but this corner of the galaxy never feels like it’s connected to anywhere else for good reasons. Maybe that’s something that can change.’

Rourke’s lips twitched. ‘Science boy? Locke? He’s older than Airex. He spent years on the Cardassian border.’

‘You don’t think anthropologists are real scientists.’

‘I do! But when I’m on the bridge, I don’t really care about… the ethnocentricity of a singularity off the starboard bow, I want an astrophysicist to tell me what it’s going to do!’

‘The computer will tell everyone what it’s going to do.’ She placed a gentle hand on his arm. ‘But no. You don’t need to worry about the locals. I’ve got all of that under control.’

He let his head loll back on the sofa and nearly closed his eyes. Through hooded lids, all he could see was the gleam of stars, and all he could feel was the comfortable seating and her hand upon him. ‘A little more to worry about,’ he rumbled, ‘and maybe there wouldn’t be room in me to worry about them.’

‘I know I sound like a fragmented recording by now, the trouble Endeavour gets herself into,’ said Hale quietly, ‘but I think you’ll always worry about them.’

‘I had to be sharp with Cortez. She’s beside herself.’

‘Of course she is. She doesn’t have license to be personally worried now she’s broken up with Valance. It’s going to make her worried and guilty.’ Hale’s touch tightened. ‘She has friends aboard. Shep. Rhade. You’re not the only person who can look out for her.’

‘Maybe not,’ said Rourke, letting his eyes shut at last. ‘But I have to. She’s part of my crew.’

He did not clarify, nor did he need to, that he was not referring to the sixteen hundred souls aboard the USS Sirius.