Riggs leaned against the railing to peer up at the shielded power core of the Cardassian tachyon control platform. ‘We could overload that,’ he said. ‘Easy as pie.’

Next to him, Locke was focused on his work at the control panel and did not look up. ‘If we do that, we’ll need immediate pickup, and it’ll be very obvious what’s happened. This will work.’ They’d developed the code together; once installed on the platform’s systems, it would subtly alter all its calibration settings for the particle emitter. The platform’s own safety protocols would shut it down the moment the emitter was activated, but the calibrations had been derived from days of study of the Underspace aperture. It was not conceivable that the Cardassians could identify the problem and restore the correct settings and meet their deadline.

‘Blowing it up’s more stable,’ Riggs said anyway. He cast a cautious look down the gantry towards the door. ‘Ji-Hun, we good?’

The tall shape of Commander Song stood at the open door, keeping watch. ‘We’re outside of the maintenance window. We’re still clear.’ Scans had made sure they could beam aboard an empty section of the platform, and they expected to have hours before any of the construction team came down to this section. They wouldn’t need hours to finish the job, and the interior of the platform was large enough they could find somewhere to lie low until the Rosetti could pick them up.

‘I still need a minute to upload the final code,’ Locke said.

‘Hang on to your butts,’ murmured Riggs. ‘Pray they haven’t detected us yet.’

‘They won’t,’ said Locke with a confidence he didn’t feel, and began the process. As he worked, all was silent, save the gentle hum of the power core above them.

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was no way the Cardassians detected his interfering with their systems. But if so, something else must have gone wrong for the alarms to go off a minute before he finished.

‘Commodore.’

It still normally took Rourke a second to realise people were talking to him when they invoked his new rank. But there was no mistaking Commander Rhade’s tone; the urgent voice of a bridge officer needing his CO’s attention in a crisis.

Rourke was on his feet in a moment, head snapping around. ‘Go.’

‘The Edorasc is powering up its systems. Shields and weapons. They’re on the move.’

‘Any word from our away team?’

‘Nothing, but they should be on comms blackout until the Rosetti picks them up.’ Rhade looked up from his controls, eyes guarded. ‘Should we approach?’

‘No,’ Rourke sighed. ‘Might be nothing to do with us. But prep the runabout Dante and her security team for launch.’ They had built contingencies they hoped they would never need, prepared for a possible boarding or rescue mission. He was only giving the go-ahead for that if he had no other choice, though.

Far turned back from Ops. ‘The Alhabor’s nearly back; dropping out of warp inside four minutes, should be able to dock within six.’

That was the first whiff of good news. If this all went wrong, he didn’t want to make the decision between leaving the Alhabor behind, or risking stranding the Sirius deep in the Delta Quadrant.

‘Hang tight, then,’ said Rourke. ‘We don’t blink until there’s confirmed trouble.’

Within a minute, the turbolift doors had slid open, and Harrian walked out – with Hale a step behind. Rourke had to hide giving Harrian an accusatory look; he had likely received the report of the Edorasc’s activity, and likely flagged it with Hale. They both went to join him at the central chair.

‘I hear,’ said Hale softly, speaking quietly enough to not be overheard, crisp enough to keep it professional, ‘we might be creating a diplomatic incident.’

‘The Union is creating a diplomatic incident, Ambassador,’ said Rourke, with all the pompous superiority he felt befit his rank. ‘We’re upholding the interests of not just the Federation, but the galaxy.’

‘Traditionally, Commodore, I’m informed when this expedition makes such decisions about upholding the interests of the Federation.’

‘I see Commander Harrian informed you once the time was right,’ said Rourke with a sharp glance past Hale. Harrian abruptly walked past them to join Rhade at studying Tactical. ‘There are times military decisions need to be made.’

‘And I have the appropriate clearances.’

‘We can discuss this later, Ambassador, when we’re not in the middle of the operation.’ Rourke dropped his voice lower. ‘But you know it’s sometimes best if you can deny knowledge of such things and not be lying.’

‘Commodore.’ That was Far, wincing. ‘Picking up the Rosetti on sensors. I’m not sure when she launched from the Edorasc. They’re breaking orbit of the moon.’

Rourke broke past Hale. ‘Do we know if they picked up the away team?’

‘Unknown.’

‘Incoming hail from the Edorasc,’ barked Rhade.

‘Here we go,’ muttered Rourke, clasping his hands behind his back. ‘Put them through.’

The image of the Edorasc’s bridge filled the viewscreen, the implacable face of Gul Kaled in the centre. ‘Endeavour. Your sabotage mission has failed.’

Rourke adopted a frown. ‘Gul Kaled, I assure you -’

‘Save me the time-wasting, Commodore. You’ve been doing your job, and I mine. I’ve followed my orders to end this chaotic network, and you’ve followed yours to try and stop me. But only one of us can succeed.’

‘Where are my people?’ Rourke tensed. ‘Commander T’Falith and Lieutenant Harkon?’

‘Aboard your shuttle.’ Kaled frowned. ‘Extracting your team aboard the platform. Returning with them. We’ve picked up the code you were installing and are purging it as we speak. You can accept defeat and bring your people home. I see no need to escalate.’

Rourke glanced over at Far, who checked her sensors and gave a small nod.

‘Five life-signs aboard the Rosetti,’ she confirmed quietly.

‘I see your auxiliary craft is returning,’ Kaled continued. ‘When it’s docked, you should leave, Rourke.’

Rourke flexed his hand by his side. ‘I can’t let you activate that platform, Kaled.’

‘Underspace has opened up channels for utter chaos in the galaxy. The Klingon Empire has begun its territorial expansion. Troublemakers from all quadrants are flooding into the Alpha Quadrant…’

‘You know as well as I do that for every downside, there’s an upside. The opportunities for diplomacy and exploration. Your people have been crying out for more resources, that Underspace exploration can give them!’

But Kaled shook his head. ‘This isn’t up for debate. I have my orders.’

‘And I have mine.’ Rourke’s jaw tightened. ‘Helm, set a course for the platform. Endeavour out.’

The deck rumbled as the Sirius stirred to life. At once, Rourke continued with orders; assembling the research teams on the ocean world’s surface and in their shuttles, instructing them to rendezvous in orbit as the Sirius left them behind. For the Alhabor to meet them there.

Once he was done, Hale was by his side again. ‘Commodore, what are you planning?’

‘He’s playing the man of honour,’ Rourke grumbled. ‘Let’s see how much he’ll stick by his guns facing off against someone much bigger than him.’

‘You mean you’re going to bully him into standing down.’

‘If necessary.’

‘And if he doesn’t stand down?’

He didn’t answer, and was saved by Far’s confirmation of the Alhabor’s approach to the shuttles, of the Rosetti reaching them and boarding.

‘Sir,’ said Rhade a minute later. ‘We’re in weapons range of the platform.’

‘Lock weapons,’ Rourke instructed.

‘Aye, sir.’ A moment later, the big Betazoid shook his head. ‘Sir, the Edorasc has taken up position blocking the way.’

‘Fire a warning shot off their bow.’ If they were on the Alpha Quadrant border, he could not possibly act so freely. Technically, nothing was different about being deep in the Delta Quadrant. In practice, everything was different.

Hale made a small noise. ‘Commodore, I must protest -’

‘Commander Rhade.’ Rourke turned to the tactical officer.

Rhade’s expression was impassive. ‘Shot fired. They have not moved.’

‘They’re hailing us again,’ called Far.

Kaled’s face reappeared on screen. ‘Is this your decision, Rourke?’

Rourke straightened. ‘Your ship can’t stand against mine if I choose to destroy that platform.’

‘There are other platforms. If you succeed here, other operations will still go ahead.’

‘I can’t control those. I can only control this – and not let you, let the Union, decide the fate of the galaxy.’

‘Better for the Federation to decide it?’

‘Considering our track record? Yes.’

‘Why? So you can pour sweet honey in the galaxy’s ears, fill their heads with promises of sunlit lands – then abandon them once it gets difficult?’ Kaled shook his head. ‘I’d hoped we could deal with this between us, Rourke. You have your people.’

‘And I’m grateful for that.’

‘I could have kept them as hostages, trapped your away team on the platform…’

‘You want credit for not using them as living shields?’ Rourke sneered.

Kaled made a sound of frustration. ‘You’ve sought to manipulate and exploit me, and your officers, all along, and now you think you have…’ He stopped. Cut the audio on his feed. Turned away to give an order.

Rhade frowned. ‘Sir, they’re dropping their shields.’

Far made a small, unhappy noise. ‘But the platform’s powering up, sir. It’s emitting a tachyon pulse directly at the aperture.’

Kaled’s voice returned. ‘I’m doing what I have to, Rourke. You do what you must.’

Rourke stopped, nostrils flaring. ‘What are you playing at, Kaled?’

‘You’re right. My ship can’t defeat yours. But I won’t give you the dignity of pretending this is a fair fight if we resist.’

Behind Rourke, the turbolift doors slid open and in marched the dolorous figures of Harkon, Locke, Riggs, Song, and the impassive shape of T’Falith. Rourke saw Kaled’s gaze flicker from him to the group, settling on them – on T’Falith, he assumed – for several beats.

Rourke turned to Rhade. ‘They can stay in our way. Not in everyone’s way.’

Rhade paused. ‘Sir, our shuttles are still assembling and the Alhabor isn’t here yet.’

‘Return to your ships, Rourke. Gather your people. And go.’ There was, at last, a hint of desperation in Kaled’s voice. ‘Once the pulse has finished its process, the tachyon particle flow from the aperture is altered. It won’t collapse at once. You’ll have time – we’ll have time – to run home. But you can’t stop it.’

‘I don’t trust your assessment,’ Rourke said, though the look in Locke’s eyes suggested Kaled wasn’t lying. He rounded back on the viewscreen. ‘Move your ship, Kaled. This is your last warning.’

‘This is your last warning, Rourke. Leave, or be a murderer. You insist you have the moral high ground throughout this. Prove it.’

‘You’re gambling with your crew’s lives just to try to spite me?’

‘I’m forcing you to see that we are, all of us, creatures of duty – who nevertheless deserve to live. Our crews are not disposable, and I have not treated your people as such. Don’t treat mine like they are.’

Rourke looked back at Rhade. He did not need to be a psychic to read the Betazoid’s mind, to know that he, too, was thinking of the last time they had been in a situation like this. But that had been years ago, facing Romulans seeking to seize omega particles. Was this so different?

Even if it wasn’t, how many nights had he spent wondering what he would do if he had his time again? What did it say if, faced with the same choice again, he committed again to covering his hands with blood?

But what were the consequences for the galaxy if he refused?

At his side, Hale took a closer step and dropped her voice. ‘Matt.’

He looked sharply at her, almost indignant that she’d made this personal, that she wasn’t looking at him as the diplomatic representative who’d have to tidy this up, but as his partner. And in both capacities, she desperately needed him to not do this.

Rourke let out a slow breath. ‘Change course,’ he said, voice thick. ‘Get back to our ships. All of them need to make an emergency landing. The second the last is on board, we’re making for the aperture.’

Kaled closed his eyes for a heartbeat. ‘I regret it came to this, Commodore.’

‘Don’t get too comfortable, Gul Kaled. We both did this. We can’t abdicate responsibility to those above us.’ But Rourke dragged his hand across his neck to direct Far to end the call before Kaled could respond. ‘Shit. Let’s get the hell out of here, people. Locke, I need your eyes on the aperture.’

The minutes it took to gather all of his disparate craft and crew felt like hours. Hours where Locke’s reports on the aperture got more and more grim; of the pulsing at the aperture itself, of the disruptive conditions inside the tunnels he could read.

‘…I’m trying to incorporate these changes into our navigational plan,’ Locke was saying quickly.

Harrian returned to the central chair and dropped his voice. ‘The Liberty? Endeavour?’

‘They’ve got to be on their own for this,’ Rourke rumbled.

‘All craft docked! Everyone aboard and accounted for!’ Far called.

‘What about the Edorasc?’ Rourke asked.

Rhade shook his head. ‘They’re not moving.’

Locke made a frustrated noise. ‘There’s no way their return journey’s going to be easier than ours. Harder, surely, we’re way more fit for the conditions in the tunnels.’

Rourke turned to him. ‘You have a flight route ready? As solid as possible to get us back to the Midgard Sector?’

‘It’ll get us there. It just might not be pretty.’

‘Hail the Edorasc.’ The moment the viewscreen switched, Rourke stepped forward. ‘We’re going, Kaled. But it’s going to be a rocky trip back. Locke can send you our navigational data; fall in behind us and it’ll be a much safer ride.’

Kaled hesitated. ‘My superiors will expect our return…’

‘You can go the slow way from the Beta Quadrant. You win, Kaled – now, look after your people. Let us throw you a lifejacket and let’s face this storm together.’

‘I…’ Kaled paused, then visibly steeled himself. ‘Together, Rourke.’

As the viewscreen went dead, Rourke jabbed a finger at Locke. ‘You heard, Commander. Harkon, we don’t go until they’re right off our aft. The second they’re in formation, we make for the aperture, and get the hell home.’

He turned around, caught Hale’s eye for the guiltiest of moments, then sank into the command chair with her at his left. Within minutes, all stations reported ready, the Edorasc was off their aft, and the time had come.

Soaring through the aperture was like turning a tugboat into a hurricane. At once, the deck surged underneath. Updates flew from Locke directly to Harkon, the science officer updating the pilot second by second of everything he was detecting on sensors. T’Falith had joined him at Science, liaising with the Edorasc, still off their aft.

Then they flew past a junction, tachyon eddies trying to pull them one way, Locke’s instructions taking them the other. Harkon hit the flight controls, the ship banked hard, and alert klaxons went off again.

‘We’re clear!’ Harkon yelled. ‘Keeping the course.’

‘Commodore.’ T’Falith’s level voice nevertheless held deep urgency. ‘We have lost the Edorasc.’

Rourke’s head snapped around. ‘Lost?’

‘They did not successfully follow that manoeuvre. It is unclear of their condition. We no longer have them on sensors.’

Rourke sucked his teeth and considered his options – then the Sirius bucked again, and he knew he had to look to his ship.

‘No turning back now!’ Harkon said anyway. ‘Hang on to your butts, it’s gonna be rough to the end.’

In the end, they almost didn’t make it. Rhade reported multiple impacts of debris, Far reported multiple systems failing from the strain of navigating in these conditions, and for a moment, Locke sounded like he thought he’d miscalculated the route. Then an aperture rose up before them, and while Rourke wondered if Harkon was just taking any escape, she still yelled, ‘This is it!’

Then they were back in normal space, tumbling, worn, battered – but steadying. Alive.

Rourke let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as he loosened his grip on the armrests. ‘Report?’

‘Location confirmed, sir,’ said Locke with relief. ‘Back where we started. Star charts are…’

‘Forget your charts, Commander,’ Rhade interrupted, jubilant. ‘Confirming Starfleet contacts. USS Redemption. USS Swiftsure. The USS Liberty, sir – and, sir. USS Endeavour.’

The release of tension on the bridge was audible, murmurs of relief and outright cheers filtering from the crew. Rourke, for his part, slumped back in his chair, and closed his eyes. ‘Hell,’ he breathed. ‘Alright.’

‘And, sir,’ said Locke, more quiet, ‘the aperture is closing.’

He grimaced. ‘Any sign of the Edorasc?’

Silence met his words. The sound of systems chirruping as one final double-check was run. Then, the calm voice of T’Falith, whose true feelings were utterly obscured from him, as she confirmed.

‘No, Commodore. They are gone.’