‘You told me that when I did something wrong, it was important to apologise.’

Nine times out of ten, Ellie Stone was an expert in philosophy, contorting arguments and exploiting loopholes and challenging epistemology like only a teenager trying to wriggle out of trouble could. When she reverted to the same morality lessons Rourke had tried to impart on her as a younger child, it was never for her own good. It was always to score points against him.

Which meant the best thing to do was to use her tactics against her. Facing off against her in the middle of their quarters, he folded his arms across his chest and said, ‘What makes you think I did something wrong?’

Her eye-roll told him what she thought of that lazy riposte. ‘Because Sophia wasn’t here last night.’

‘Maybe she was working late.’

‘Doing what? We’re in the middle of the Delta Quadrant and the Cardassians aren’t talking to us.’

‘Okay, but what makes you think I did something wrong?’

Ellie paused only a beat, but didn’t sound convinced when she said, ‘Did she do something wrong?’

‘…that’s not the point. Anyway, it’s fine. She might not be busy, but I’m busy.

‘You’re at home in the middle of the day because your job’s just about waiting right now.’

‘Yeah, shouldn’t you be at school?’

Her look was withering. ‘It’s the weekend, Dad.’

Rourke knew that forgetting his daughter’s schedule wasn’t a good look, but was saved from more backpedalling by his combadge chirruping.

‘Rhade to Commodore Rourke. I need to see you, sir. It’s urgent.’

He had rarely been so pleased to hear of possible disaster. Rourke raised his hands and gave his daughter a look that was perhaps more smug than innocent. ‘Duty calls, kiddo.’

‘Whatever. Just don’t sulk when you’re home tonight if I don’t want to watch movies with you and you’re left alone.’

The problem with arguing with a teenager, Rourke thought as he hurried out of his quarters, was that they got you emotionally caught up in the contest, then checked out while you were still engaged and angry. Which, of course, meant that they’d won.

Rhade was on the bridge, at the double banks of the Tactical consoles. On the screen between the two parallel banks, Rourke could see the sensor updates of Sirius’s smallcraft sweeping across the system. Beside him stood Locke and Riggs, which made Rourke hesitate. If Rhade had consulted with the other two before bringing something to him, it meant he’d wanted to be sure.

Trying to not borrow trouble, he walked up like it was an ordinary day and he hadn’t just lost a battle of wits with a sixteen-year-old. ‘What’ve we got?’

Rhade looked like he wasn’t sure if he was happy he now had to give his report, but straightened with brisk officiousness. ‘Our survey mission was successful, sir. Passive and discreet scanning accumulated a significant amount of data about the platform the Cardassians are building.’ He reached for the screen, bringing up the sensor profile.

It was bigger than Rourke had expected for what was presumed to operate as a navigational beacon. He pursed his lips. ‘That’s a big power core.’

‘It needs to be,’ said Locke, running a hand through his hair and leaving it rumpled. ‘This thing isn’t monitoring the inside of Underspace and it’s not emitting a signal to help navigation. You see that dish?’ He pointed along the cylindrical platform. ‘That’s an emitter. This platform is designed to scan tachyon particles. It puts out a tachyon pulse.’

‘We’re burying the lede here,’ said Riggs, shaking his head. His sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbow, and he looked like he’d been up to his neck in this study as much as the other two. He turned to Rourke. ‘The Cardassians have built a platform that can close the Underspace aperture.’

There was a beat as Rourke rocked back on his heels and let out a slow breath. ‘Damn.’

‘And,’ added Locke apologetically, ‘its construction has been modular. The Edorasc didn’t build this from scratch. They brought out pre-made components to be assembled here.’

‘Meaning this was premeditated,’ said Rourke, ‘and meaning it’s really possible this isn’t the only one.’ He turned to the display. ‘That’s why they’re out here. Underspace can turn the whole galaxy on its head, and the Cardassians are the last people to welcome what they’d see as chaos. They want to kill the network. How long do we have?’

‘That’s the thing,’ said Riggs, sucking his teeth. ‘The damn thing’s complete.’

‘It’s likely,’ ventured Locke, ‘that if there is a whole network of these platforms distributed across Underspace apertures, they’ll be most affected if activated simultaneously. It looks like the Edorasc arrived and was able to begin assembly immediately. Other Cardassian ships elsewhere may not have been so fast.’

‘So either there’s a signal they’ll receive, or there’s a scheduled activation time,’ said Rourke. ‘Either way, this could pop off at any minute. Once this goes off, how quick will it be?’

Locke made a face. ‘I’m operating on incredibly hypothetical -’

‘Then hypothesise.’

He ran another hand through his increasingly-wild hair. ‘Uh, not quick? Manipulating the tachyon particle flow to seal the apertures can’t be instantaneous. But I’m not sure what that does to the interior of the tunnels themselves. Maybe it destroys the corridors, maybe it destroys these new exit points. Maybe it destroys all exit points?’

‘Commander, I’m asking if we’re about to be stranded here.’

Locke paused. Contemplated. ‘The Cardassians won’t be sacrificing all of these ships and all of these crews. Especially not a modern cruiser like the Edorasc.’

‘So you’re saying when they run, we better run, too.’ Rourke blew out his cheeks. ‘Rourke to Harrian. I need you to call the Alhabor back here, and they better double-time it.’

‘Yes, sir. Has something happened?’

‘In twenty minutes, come up to the conference room and I’ll fill you in.’ Rourke paused. ‘Bring Song, Far, and Harkon with you.’

A beat. ‘Yes, sir.’ He could almost hear the cogs in Harrian’s mind whirling. No Sadek. No Carraway. Line officers only. And what Harrian didn’t know – not yet, anyway – was one other key omission.

Because if he had to take drastic action, he didn’t want Hale involved. Not unless absolutely necessary.

Rhade’s eyes were on him as he finished the call. ‘Twenty minutes, sir?’

‘We’re stopping them,’ Rourke said flatly. ‘They don’t get to do this. I won’t let them do this. But there’s only so many ways we can do this, and I’m not starting off by flying the Sirius over there and blowing up that platform in front of them. Because, knowing the Cardassians, they’ll play the victims despite planning a crime against the galaxy.’ He jabbed a finger at the display. ‘You and Riggs have twenty minutes to figure out how to destroy this thing from the inside. And then we’re going to kick this around with the senior staff. Locke, you’re with me.’

Locke blinked. ‘Sir? I’ve been studying this thing, I can help with any operation -’

‘I know. Because you’re going to help me clear a route to get an away team on board.’

It was intoxicating, how the pieces fell together. A crisis was here. Action had to be taken. And without really thinking about it, the route ahead felt so clear. This platform couldn’t be allowed to activate, but there was no way he’d be able to talk the Cardassians down. They didn’t have the luxury of time. And he still needed to pull this off in a way the galaxy could live with afterwards, instead of coming home to find he was a Starfleet flag officer accused of destroying a Cardassian emplacement unprovoked, whatever his justification.

If this went wrong, the Alhabor might be stranded. The Liberty. Endeavour could be lost forever; Sirius might never get back. And still, Rourke felt a spring in his step as he marched to the turbolift, Locke fretting in his wake, because now he knew what he needed to do.

Unfortunately, it included an argument with a Vulcan.

‘I don’t understand,’ said T’Falith once he’d found her and finished explaining. She sat at her desk in the Social Sciences wing, impassive as he was coming to expect of her, looking up at him and Locke as if they were the naughty schoolchildren summoned to the headmaster’s office and not her direct usperiors. ‘Are we about to take unprovoked military action against the Cardassian Union?’

Rourke tried to not roll his eyes. ‘If the Union tried to trigger a supernova that would endanger Federation lives, we’d call that unprovoked military action, even if that wasn’t their primary goal. This is the same principle. Just because they’re going after a phenomenon doesn’t make this an attack.’

‘The Underspace is not Federation territory,’ T’Falith pointed out. ‘I am unsure of our legal justification for taking action against the Union to protect it.’

Rourke opened his mouth for a blunt argument, but Locke slid in.

‘There are dozens of treaties about the preservation of the galactic environment that one could justify this falls under,’ he said smoothly. ‘Obviously they don’t explicitly include Underspace, but I think the commodore’s comparison to the deliberate triggering of a supernova is… not off.’

‘Thanks,’ Rourke drawled.

T’Falith was silent for a moment. She stood up, clasped her hands behind her back, and looked about her office. It was surprisingly decorated for that of a Vulcan, he thought, with hard-copy books on the shelves and tasteful Vulcan artwork on the wall. He wondered, idly, if her quarters were like this, or if this was a deliberate cultivating of a professional, yet not unwelcoming, demeanour. Surely it was logical, as the head of Social Sciences, to appear culturally engaged.

‘As I understand it,’ she said slowly, carefully, ‘you wish to send a shuttle within transporter range of this platform. Beam them aboard so they may sabotage the facility. And then for them to be extracted.’

‘Yes,’ said Rourke.

‘And you wish for me to engage in deception to justify the proximity of a shuttle to the facility and to the Edorasc.’

Locke sucked his teeth. ‘I mean, we can’t just ask nicely, T’Falith -’

‘I want you to lie to Gul Kaled, yeah,’ said Rourke roughly. ‘I know you’re friends. I get that he’s a polite Cardassian, all cultured and stuff. But he’s part of a mission to endanger operations across all of known space. Part of a mission to wrap a Cardassian fist around the throat of a possible future for the whole galaxy, and choke it. So we’re gonna have to use a bit of subterfuge. So I’m going to exploit your friendship with him. Yeah.’

T’Falith met his gaze, and the fire of indignation in his belly chilled at the impassive expression. ‘Your honesty is refreshing, Commodore,’ she said. ‘This is indeed duplicitous. I would much prefer it if we could pursue a diplomatic resolution.’

‘Sure,’ said Rourke, not bothering to smother his sarcasm. ‘We’ll just call him, tell him we’ve been spying on him, and ask him to abandon his mission. You said he’s a man of honour, all dutiful to Cardassia. You really think there’s a way to dissuade him?’

To his surprise, she shook her head. ‘Not in the time we have. Which may be no time at all.’ Her gaze dropped. ‘The preservation of Underspace is paramount. So, too, is the preservation of peace in the Alpha Quadrant. My personal relationship with Gul Kaled is insignificant in comparison.’

The flames of indignation inside him were, by now, embers. It would be easy to stoke them, but their heat threatened to sear if he indulged it. More sombre, Rourke nodded. ‘Thank you, Commander,’ he said sincerely, and with a hint of shame. ‘And I am sorry I’ve put you in this position. It speaks well of you that you’ve built up this relationship with a Cardassian officer, when so many of our peoples – on both sides – can’t begin to see past old acrimony.’

‘Not everyone harbours such aged feuds as you, Commodore,’ said T’Falith. The worst thing to Rourke was that he thought she was probably trying to be kind, while taking his legs out from under him. But she continued while he reeled. ‘I will reach out to Gul Kaled, and express a desire to visit him. I cannot be sure if he will agree, or agree quickly. You may wish to consider contingencies.’

Rourke and Locke exchanged looks. ‘We’re on it,’ Rourke said. ‘Don’t worry, Commander. You might be our best shot. But you’re not our only one. We can’t afford to put all our eggs in one basket.’