‘We’re coming up on the final approach.’ Lieutenant Harkon glanced back from the cockpit of the shuttle Rosetti to the trio stowed in the aft. Primed and ready in combat gear, the away team for the illicit mission still looked like a cluster of self-conscious children on their ride to school. ‘You all prepped?’

‘We are ready,’ said Commander Song, voice calm and level.

Locke, beside him, looked at the third officer, Riggs. ‘You’re sure about our transporter signal being obscured?’

‘The thing about building a platform whose whole use is to diddle with tachyons,’ drawled Riggs, ‘is that the right calibrations means the tachyon distortions of a transporter beam ain’t nothing to sensors. They won’t see nothing.’

‘You cannot be sure of that.’ Sat at the co-pilot’s seat, T’Falith had not looked back. Through the canopy, the moon in whose orbit sat the Edorasc and the platform loomed larger and larger. ‘You must be prepared for something going awry.’

‘If that happens,’ said Song quickly, ‘our priority is to make sure the platform is sabotaged.’

‘I’m pretty sure that if you’re spotted, we’ll know, even docked on the Edorasc,’ pointed out Harkon. ‘I’ll hi-tail it out of there to pick you up, then we run like hell. And let the diplomats worry about the political fallout.’

An alert went off on T’Falith’s controls. ‘We are in range for the platform. No life-signs detected in proximity to your landing zone.’

Song nodded. There was little T’Falith liked about this mission, but the selection of the level-headed Commander Song went a long way to reassuring her. He had demonstrated none of the brusque anti-Cardassian sentiment of some of the senior staff, nor the indulgence or nerves of officers like Locke or Riggs.

‘Ready to beam out,’ he said.

T’Falith turned in her chair, eyes landing on Locke. ‘Remember that you are not here to begin a war, or to kill people.’

The corners of his eyes creased. ‘T’Falith. I don’t like this much easier. But we won’t make a mess of this.’

She had no real experience of Edmund Locke as a line officer. For months, years, they had worked together as researchers, and that was it. She knew he had experience aboard starships, but he had always struck her as the impractical academic out of his depth the moment he had to do something with his own two hands. But here he was, on a secret mission of sabotage.

But she said nothing more and reached for the controls. ‘Energising.’

Once they were gone, Harkon let out a low whistle. ‘They do know that the pickup’s gonna be rough, right, if I’m sat on the deck of a Cardassian shuttlebay?’

‘If you receive word that the mission has been compromised,’ said T’Falith, turning her chair back to the front, ‘then you should immediately depart to extract them.’ She glanced at her controls. ‘They are in position. There is no indication the Edorasc has spotted them.’

‘Smooth,’ said Harkon, then paused. ‘Wait, if I kick off immediately, what about you?’

‘The lives of the away team are more important,’ said T’Falith coolly. ‘Besides, if you wait for me to return to you, you may not get the chance to leave at all, if the ship is set to high alert.’

‘I really don’t like that.’

T’Falith kept her eyes on the canopy, on the rising shape of the Edorasc. ‘I anticipate I will be in far less danger than the away team if left behind, Lieutenant. Regardless, they are three lives; I am one, not to mention the risk to yourself. The needs of the many take precedence here.’

‘While you walk into the lion’s den?’

‘These are only lions if we imagine them to be,’ came T’Falith’s enigmatic response.

The Edorasc hailed them before she had to explain, flight control guiding them in to dock, and within minutes, the Rosetti had settled onto the gloomy deck of a Cardassian shuttlebay. Harkon peered through the canopy at the dim lighting, at the hint of humidity already settling onto the window, at how the crew on the far side looked like shadows more than figures.

‘Cheerful.’

‘For Cardassians, this is a most agreeable environment.’ T’Falith stood. ‘Expect it to be warm as well as humid.’

‘I forget, they like a swamp.’

‘And to some, most Federation species enjoy the cold, which rarely evokes a welcoming atmosphere either.’ She met Harkon’s bemused look. ‘You would find my quarters unseasonably warm, though more arid than here. We should not make presumptions based on atmospheric preferences -’

‘Okay, okay.’ Harkon raised her hands. ‘I’m just saying.’

‘Keep the shuttle ready to depart. And remember my orders, Lieutenant.’

‘Yeah. Uh, Commander? Be careful.’

When it came to her wellbeing, T’Falith was not convinced the Cardassians were a greater threat than Starfleet at that moment. For all their ambitions had set this course of events in motion, she was not convinced an illicit operation exploiting the one personal connection they had was the best way forward. But here she was. Part of a sabotage mission, boarding the ‘enemy’ ship, alone.

Dalin Forsk stood to receive her, crisp and tall in uniform, an armed guard beside him. ‘Commander T’Falith.’ His greeting was not as warm as she had warned Harkon to find the Cardassian ship. ‘Gul Kaled will receive you in his stateroom.’ He glanced past her to the shuttle ramp.

‘Thank you. Lieutenant Harkon will remain with the shuttle. I will not require you to strain your security staff by requesting she walk the common areas with an escort.’

‘We will leave a guard in case she has need of anything,’ said Forsk transparently, gesturing to the officer beside him. ‘Come with me.’

Most of Starfleet’s familiarity with Cardassian construction, especially her familiarity as an historian, was of more dated vessels. The Edorasc was brand new, though, the smell of fresh metal plating crisp on the tongue. All of her years studying Cardassian warships told her the ship was built along the same principles, with little by way of innovation, merely more sophisticated systems. But these were proven designs that had seen the Cardassians keep the might of the Federation at bay for years in the mid-24th century. Now, with Starfleet torn from one end of the galaxy to the other, a modern Cardassian navy was nothing to balk at.

While T’Falith thought it explained some of Rourke’s apprehension, it did not justify his deep-seated paranoia. But by the same token, it was as if she could see the fresh metal that had gone into the Edorasc’s construction slip into Forsk’s spine, into the bones of every officer they passed.

They were no longer a fallen people scrambling for redemption or respect. Now, they were either in want of nothing, or in want of a reckoning.

Forsk knew better than to give her a view of anything but corridors and crew going about their business, however, escorting her to the nearest lift and then taking a roundabout route before they reached the door to the captain’s stateroom. He took up position by the bulkhead and extended a hand. ‘Commander.’

She inclined her head, thanked him, and stepped in.

The stateroom was both Kaled’s personal quarters, divided off through distant doors, and a space for him to work and receive guests. If there was anything to be found of personal flairs or character, it was likely behind those doors. All there was in these wide, dim-lit chambers, was furniture, furnishings, and decorations set to do nothing but project the might of the Cardassian state.

He sat at a desk, but stood the moment she arrived. While his expression levelled very quickly, she caught a flash of apprehension, uncertainty, or even guilt before he was on his feet. ‘Commander T’Falith.’

‘Gul Kaled.’ She approached the desk slowly. This was the part that would be a challenge; to divert him, to justify her presence, when the last thing she wanted to do was lie to him. ‘I appreciate you receiving me at such a short notice.’

‘Being hospitable in turn is the least I can do,’ said Kaled, inclining his head. ‘You and your crew were so gracious upon our visit. Can I get you refreshment?’

She considered refusing, then realised it would be an excellent stalling method. ‘I would welcome whatever you have to offer. Whatever you might take at this time of day.’

‘Red leaf tea it is.’ His movements were usually crisp, precise, but there was a hint of nervous energy as he stepped out from behind the desk. ‘I can synthesise some, or if you’d be ready to wait, brew fresh.’

‘If you wish to offer fresh, I would be intrigued to taste it.’

That bought her minutes. Precious minutes, before he ushered her to comfortable seating and set the brewing teapot, a low and dark metal thing, on the table between them.

‘Much as I am heartened to see you,’ Kaled began, clasping his hands before him as he settled down, ‘I am sure this is not simply a visit to talk books.’

‘It is not urgent, as my message said. Truthfully, I would welcome the diversion of our books.’ T’Falith looked away and decided the best way through was to tell as much truth as she could get away with. ‘I have become uncomfortable with the rhetoric between our crews. We are both on dangerous missions in the distant reaches of the galaxy. And yet, it seems so much of our interactions are influenced more by past misdeeds on either side than the here and now.’

It was not strictly true, she thought. In the here and now, the Cardassian Union sought to cause unfathomable change to the galaxy. But even before that had been the case, Rourke and those close to him had looked for an excuse to distrust the Edorasc and her crew.

Kaled sighed. ‘It is much the same here. Regrettably, that is how I have so often found dealing with Starfleet. Everyone on both sides prefers to focus on the war.’

‘I find it, frankly, illogical. We should not be so heavily influenced by matters a quarter-century old from a completely different geopolitical context. I am not ignorant of the impact of the conflict; I was there.’ She shook her head.

He tilted his head. ‘I did not realise.’

‘You did not ask. It did not seem relevant. I prefer to base my opinion of Cardassians on all else I have studied and seen. And, most significantly, on the behaviours of Cardassians I meet, instead of those I read about, imagine… or fear.’ She looked back at him. ‘This was not urgent. But I found our conversation on the Sirius… grounding.’

Kaled grimaced. ‘I wish I could say the same.’ He raised a hand to wave off his own words. ‘Not – you said and did everything right. It was because I found the discussion so fruitful, so settling, that it unsettled me.’

‘I do not understand.’

‘It is not expected for a Cardassian officer to feel comfortable in the company of Starfleet. Certainly not now. That I did was… unsettling.’ He grimaced, seeming frustrated at himself and his words. ‘That is to say I enjoyed your company. And I was happy to hear from you again. It is… good that we can cut through all of the distrust between our people. Even if it is only for us.’

‘I would prefer if it were not only for us,’ T’Falith said sincerely. ‘But if that is all there is, then you and I is what I shall take.’

Kaled watched her a moment. Parted his lips to speak. Then his face clouded, and he shoved himself to his feet in a burst of frustration. ‘I – forgive me,’ he snapped at nothing, beginning to pace. ‘I feel you came here for an escape, and I cannot give you that.’

I came to lie to you. She looked up at him, unmoved. ‘You are troubled.’

‘I am lying,’ he said, rounding back to her, then clasped his hands behind his back. ‘I have no doubt Rourke had some hand in you being here. He would not have permitted it if he had not hoped to exploit our, our friendship. Hoping that I would let slip some truth of my ship’s operations, of my orders.’

She stood now, voice low. ‘I am not here to extract the truth from you.’

‘Which is only the more maddening,’ said Kaled. ‘Because we are caught up in this, you and I, with orders we do not want to follow. Able to see through the shadows of past grievances, and yet nobody else can. Not Rourke. Not most of my staff. Not those who have sent me here. And I…’ His nostrils flared as he shook his head. ‘I do not wish to lie to you. But the longer you sit here, the more I must lie to you.’

He was begging her to leave, she realised. Begging her to not tear his honour in two, forcing him to choose between a duty whose shackles choked him, and principles wound so tight they cut through flesh.

Had she been here of her own volition, she would have left. But however much it made her limbs move like lead when she stepped towards him, she still advanced. He was not the only one to be torn this way and that, and lives were on the line. ‘You do not have to lie to me,’ she said quietly, giving him another truth, one she knew he would not see.

Kaled was biting his lip, and she thought he’d drawn blood when he said, ‘The platform, our purpose here… Underspace is a threat to the whole galaxy. It’s opened avenues for the Klingons to launch their invasion of the Romulans, and who knows what comes next? When they have skipped past your proxy-state of the Republic, and consumed the Beta Quadrant? And what other threats are coming…’ He threw a hand in the air, frustrated. ‘Regardless of why. You need to tell your ship to go home. Because we are going to close Underspace.’

She did not react, and she felt his eyes on her as his words echoed through the room, unsure if this was simply how a Vulcan should respond to a revelation such as this. But her level expression was nothing more than her own silent battle.

She did not want to lie, either. T’Falith straightened and said, ‘I know.’

The first expression on Kaled’s face was of shock. But within a heartbeat it had turned to realisation, and no small dose of betrayal. ‘…Rourke didn’t send you here to carve that out of me, did he,’ he said, voice a low rumble.

‘No.’

‘You were sent to distract me.’

‘Yes.’ More or less. T’Falith kept her straight-backed posture. ‘We have now both betrayed our masters, disobeyed orders. Understood that you and I both have a clarity of vision beyond the distrust and doubt in the entire galaxy that has shackled our superiors. What matters more than wrestling with our broken duty, Kaled, is what we do now. You and I. You have no fondness for your orders.’

Kaled hesitated. ‘No.’

She took a step forward, hesitated, then reached to place a hand on his arm. ‘This does not have to be a game of shadows. We are on the far side of the galaxy. Here, we may be whoever we are. Here, we may choose.’

His eyes flickered from her to her hand upon him, then back to her face, searching every millimetre of her. He drew a deep breath, settling, steadying.

Then the room was pitched into emergency lighting, and any response he might have given drowned out by the klaxon of the ship going to battle stations.