‘Twelve hours.’ Kharth looked up from the PADD to Airex, stood across the table from her in the conference room. ‘And we’re hidden until then?’

‘As sure as I can be. And I’ll be monitoring sensors the whole time.’

‘Not working on the shuttle?’

‘Thawn’s on that. She’s the expert in this sort of thing – and certainly doesn’t need me holding her hand. I’ll keep watch until then.’ He spoke quietly, gently; reassuring and confident. It was soft enough to rankle, to make her feel like she was still being managed, but, worse than that, it worked.

She put the PADD down. ‘You’ll need some sleep.’

‘I’ll be -’

‘I still need you fresh on the bridge when we fight tomorrow.’

The corners of his lips curled. ‘Turak will take a shift. I know what I’m doing.’

‘A shift isn’t…’ But she stopped herself, bringing a hand to her temple. ‘You’re right. You know what you’re doing.’

‘And so do you. You know that?’

She scoffed. ‘Does everyone think I need a team of cheerleaders? Don’t you get it? We’re in a fight for our lives. This is the easy part.’

Maddeningly, his smile hadn’t faded at her snap. ‘And when this is over, we’ll bring them home.’

For the last three years, she hadn’t known what to say when Airex was like this, when he tried to emotionally engage. She’d spent so long both desperate for a connection and so cruelly wounded by how he’d hurt her in the past that when he’d reached out, she didn’t know if she wanted to take his hand or rip it off. That feeling wasn’t entirely gone, but it was more like a lingering echo than a roiling battle inside her.

‘When this is over,’ she grumbled, ‘I’m going back on shore leave.’ It was a gentle deflection, blunting his approach but keeping her claws sheathed, and she gathered her PADDs. ‘I’ll get some rest. You have the bridge.’

She knew she wouldn’t sleep. Over the years, Kharth thought she’d mastered the art of sleeping anywhere, but all of those lessons had gone out the window since Endeavour had been stranded. Before, she’d known her purpose on the eve of conflict, understood her place in whatever turmoil was to come. It was different for a leader. There were so many unknowns that she couldn’t silence stormy thoughts flashing with every possible development.

Which was why she found herself taking the turbolift not to her quarters, but down to the shuttlebay housing the shuttle Percival, the type-12 chosen for their upcoming gambit. Even at this late hour, the engineering team maintained a steady buzz of activity around the craft, a steady shift pattern keeping the work progressing throughout the night. By the descended ramp was Lindgren, deep in conversation with Caede, who was reading something off a PADD.

‘…affect the flight routes,’ Caede was saying, not looking up to notice Kharth’s approach.

Lindgren did spot her, giving a small, polite nod before she fixed Caede with a look. ‘I have to fly like a cosmozoan. I get it.’

‘Not just that – don’t be ridiculous,’ he said, his voice somewhere between a snap and a sneer, still not looking up, still not noticing Kharth. ‘The amount of energy needed to maintain the shield modulations will affect the power reserves for your impulse engines. You have to conserve it, even in the difficult flight conditions of the nursery.’

Kharth folded her arms across her chest, glancing back to Lindgren before looking at Caede. ‘She knows how to do her job, you know.’

He looked up with a start, and there was a hint of sheepishness before he scowled. ‘I know,’ he said hotly. ‘But she needs to know the flight conditions to do it.’

‘It’s okay,’ said Lindgren, looking faintly amused. ‘I’m learning the centurion briefs everyone as if he resents them not already knowing what he’s not yet explained.’

‘I need you to understand the significance,’ he snapped. ‘You can’t just bull-rush through this with Starfleet optimism.’

‘I prefer to use Starfleet excellence.’

‘That’s exactly what-’ Caede stopped, lowering his PADD, and turned to Kharth. ‘She needs a co-pilot. I’ll go with her.’

Kharth’s eyebrows shot up. ‘That’s quite a thing to volunteer for.’

‘Is it? Your kid’s back at Ops.’ Caede shrugged. ‘Better this than sitting around waiting to die in a crisis.’

‘Better to volunteer for the most dangerous part of this entire mission?’

‘Better to raise its chance of success.’

‘After all,’ said Lindgren, her smile intact, ‘I’m just going to hope my way through this. Maybe the fairies will see us through, and not our extensive preparations and training.’ But she inclined her head to Kharth. ‘I’d welcome the help, Commander. Centurion Caede has a better idea than anyone of this level of subterfuge, and he’s been part of the modification process throughout.’

Kharth looked between them, then shrugged. ‘Alright. In which case – go away, both of you. Sleep. You really need to be fresh tomorrow. Where’s Thawn? Did she already turn in?’

Lindgren shook her head and gestured up the ramp. ‘Overseeing the systems checks. Good night, Commander.’

Kharth watched them go, then stepped gingerly on the ramp to board the shuttle Percival. She didn’t know if she was reassured or not to see no sign of anyone but Thawn, the engineer’s red hair sticking over the back of the pilot’s chair.

She cleared her throat. ‘How’s it going?’

Thawn visibly jumped, too embroiled in studying the shuttle’s displays to have noticed her approach through any sense. ‘Oh – Commander.’ She glanced back, scowling. ‘We’re on it. I’ll be done in time.’

Kharth raised her hands. ‘I come in peace, Thawn. Just checking in.’

‘Do you want me to actually explain to you the multiple stages of deflector modifications we’ve made? The comparisons of our emissions to the biosigns of the cosmozoan? I’m halfway through adjusting the bussard collectors to absorb local gasses, then we’re installing equipment to modify and then re-emit it so it shares characteristics of what we’ve studied from Skippy…’

‘Hell, Thawn, set phasers to stun. I’m the CO and I’m asking how we’re doing with this mission prep.’

Thawn slumped. For a moment, Kharth thought her natural deference to authority might win, but then something more taut and guilty crept into her face. ‘Acting CO.’

For a moment, Kharth considered fighting back. But taking a beat let her notice the apprehension at the edge of Thawn’s voice, the grief. She swallowed. ‘I wish Valance was here, too. Trust me.’

Thawn’s expression twisted. ‘I never thought you’d be happy to see her gone. Well. Not under these circumstances.’

‘Valance and I made peace a long time ago. It’s just a spiky peace.’ Kharth paused. ‘Was a spiky peace.’

The Betazoid’s gaze dropped. For just a heartbeat, walls that had stood so long buckled after the gruelling hours and days that had scraped so hard against everyone, sharpening edges or weakening defences. ‘I know she was the one who chose me for Chief Engineer. But I do know what I’m doing, too.’

Kharth blinked. Then she turned the co-pilot’s seat to face her and sat down. ‘You do know that I’m the one who recommended you for your promotion, right?’

‘What?’

‘After the trip to the Empire. After – hell, after everything, Thawn. There isn’t an officer aboard whose force of will I respect, trust, more than yours.’ As Thawn stared at her, Kharth hesitated, rubbing her chin. Everything Logan had said to her since they’d been stranded rumbled through her, and she had to swallow hard to banish the stubborn desire to defy it. To prove him wrong. To stand alone.

‘I don’t doubt you, Thawn,’ she said at last. ‘I know you’ll play your part – more than that, I know you’ll go above and beyond. But for this to work, for any of this to work, your part has to be iron-tight. The plan has to be iron-tight. And I’m responsible for that.’

Thawn pursed her lips, listening, thinking. Then she said, ‘Meaning, you doubt yourself, but you take it out on everyone around you.’

Kharth scowled. ‘Hey, I’m admitting fault here. Don’t act like you’re not hyper-sensitive to the slightest pushback from a superior officer.’

The hint of a cringe from Thawn reminded both of them that Kharth was right. Thawn slumped back in her chair at that. ‘I’m not going to pretend that being in charge of engineering is like being in charge of the whole ship. But I… get it. The difference between having to implement the plan, and needing to be the one with the plan. The level in responsibility.’

Kharth had spent enough time with Cortez to understand that the domain of engineers was a kingdom unto itself, however much ship captains liked to pretend they held sovereignty. ‘I hear this whole plan was your idea,’ she said more gently.

‘Nate started it.’ Thawn sighed, staring at nothing. ‘The idea of tricking the Hirogen with a better prey…’

‘That’s just teamwork. Figuring if a hare-brained idea can actually work, and how? And implementing it? That’s leadership.’

Thawn bit her lip and gave Kharth a sidelong look. ‘I respected you so much when you first came aboard, you know? Not just for being good at your job. But you… I never understood people who were comfortable with their feelings. And I know you’re not. But I spent years looking up to Commander Valance, and she… and I… are really, really good at trying to shove them in a box until it turns out they were holding us captive all along. You don’t trust your feelings, but it’s like you’re in a constant war with them.’

Kharth’s eyebrows quirked. ‘Is this a compliment? Because it sounds like shit I got from my Academy instructors.’

‘You don’t hide from your feelings,’ said Thawn. ‘You don’t trust them, but you respect them. I don’t know, I just… I envied how you could advocate for yourself when I met you.’

Kharth leaned forward, clasping her hands together. ‘You mean I was angry. Am angry.’

‘Maybe,’ said Thawn quietly. ‘But I’ve found I’ve gotten what I wanted a lot more since I let myself feel angry. I remember you telling me to be angry, once. To acknowledge it. Let it out. For a time.’

For a time, Kharth thought. For a time, I took you under my wing. Then the D’Ghor happened and I blamed you for officers dying when I wasn’t there, because I needed to blame someone. Because I was angry.

She let out a slow, ragged breath. ‘You’re not a coward, Thawn. Even if you were the worst fighter back at Elgatis, even if you’d rolled under a control bank and done nothing; even if you were everything I was afraid you’d been. That was over two years ago. And even if it had been yesterday, it’s not your job to kill people. And it was shit of me blame you. Wrong of me.’

Thawn continued wringing her fingers together, then said, ‘Just because you recommended me for a promotion doesn’t mean you haven’t been treating me like crap.’

Despite herself, surprising herself, Kharth laughed. At Thawn’s indignant look, she raised an apologetic hand. ‘Sorry – you’re right. But, woah. Talk about listening to that anger to advocate for yourself. That is working for you, huh?’

Thawn’s lips twisted with self-conscious amusement. ‘I… guess. This was nothing compared to how much I yelled at my aunt.’

‘You should keep it up. I like it.’

‘What?’ Thawn gave her own short laugh. ‘Yelling at you?’

‘When you’re honest about what I’m doing wrong, not insecure and sniping.’ Kharth watched as that sobered Thawn’s expression, and sighed. ‘And I owe you better than I’ve given you. You’re right. I can’t support you professionally by rating you with Valance and not rating you to your face. We’d be dead without you, Thawn. We’d have been ripped apart in Underspace, or in the nursery, or by the Hirogen because we wouldn’t be ready to face them, and we wouldn’t have a plan.’

Thawn was silent for a moment, head bowed, gaze averted. Eventually she said, quietly, ‘You know we all trust you to get us through this, Commander.’

‘Yeah, well.’ Kharth grimaced. ‘It’s a fight, isn’t it? That’s what you need me for.’

‘No, but – you don’t coddle us. Sometimes it’s too much and sometimes it’s too harsh. But you’re honest with us. You don’t let us hide from ourselves. You demand that we’re the best we can be. It’s not… okay, it’s not like Rourke, who made us want to show up for him, or Valance, who made us feel like we’d have never been in our jobs if she didn’t trust us. But you know us. You get us. You see the best we can be, and you see when we’re hiding from ourselves, and you… reject that.’

Kharth sat with that for a moment. Then she said, ‘But I need to stop taking chunks out of you when that happens, right?’

‘Maybe… a little.’ Thawn shifted her weight.

‘And you need to call me on it. But first…’ Kharth stood up. ‘To take a leaf out of Rourke’s book: let’s save the day. Everyone. But also, you and me.’

Thawn gave a small nod as she looked up. ‘Let’s save the day.’

‘And when this is over…’ Kharth hesitated, then clapped her on the shoulder. ‘We should hit the gym again. Like we used to. Punching bags. Work that emotion out.’

Thawn was given no chance to respond before Kharth left. An actual response wasn’t needed. It was the sentiment that counted, a reminder of a time they’d been connected, an offer to reconnect.

Because connections, like that and all the others, were what would see them through.