The ride back through the turbulence of Underspace, following in the Liberty’s wake, was hard going. Had Endeavour not benefited from a solid day of Cortez and her team patching up the damage, with the phenomenon a roiling mess trying to rip itself apart and take them with it, they might not have survived. But they had dragged their way through collapsing corridors, soared across countless light-years in the blink of an eye, and emerged in the Midgard Sector, only to be joined by the Sirius mere minutes later.

Though the bridge crew were sighing with relief or cheering and clapping, Kharth couldn’t share that jubilation as the calls came in from the Sirius, from the Redemption, and she knew she could not bring them unfettered good news.

‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Kharth.’ Rourke and the Sirius looked like they’d been through the wringer themselves. ‘I’m just sorry we couldn’t bring you in sooner. How’s the crew? Any news of the Ihhliae?’

Either he’d noticed something was up, or he was simply fretting. Kharth swallowed. ‘Battered. We took some casualties in our encounters. I regret to inform you that we lost the Ihhliae in the initial Underspace journey. And, sir – Captain Valance.’

The image of Rourke on the viewscreen tensed. ‘Valance?’

‘Sir, she -’

‘Is alive and well,’ interrupted Captain Faust.

Kharth froze, confounded. ‘I – no, Captain, she -’

‘Her shuttle escaped Underspace. She and her passenger are fine. They were rescued by the Tempest and have stayed with them.’

Kharth’s head snapped around to stare at Airex. Then she looked back at the screen. And all she could summon – after all the shock, all the grief, all the struggles – was a muted, ‘Oh. Well. Nevermind.’

Everything else happened fast. Kharth was dimly aware of the collapses of Underspace, of the reports of a Cardassian plot. When Airex explained it all to her that afternoon in the conference room, her initial response was a blunt, ‘Good.’ And yet, to look out the window and see the blackness of space and not the coils and swirls of the stellar nursery that had been their home for so long left a pang in her. They would, she knew, never see it again.

‘Double-bye, Skippy,’ was Kally’s quiet farewell on the bridge when they eased into warp, leaving behind what had once been the site of an Underspace aperture, directed to return to Gateway Station for repairs. ‘We’ll miss you.’

‘There’ll be more space dogs,’ Kharth said, trying to be more upbeat.

‘I know, Commander. But even when you get a new pet, it’s not the same as the old one. You might love it as much, but you still love it differently.’ Kally paused. ‘Not to say Skippy was a pet…’

They were a good few days out from the station, their captain still on the further-flung reaches of the sector. Escorted by the Liberty and the Sirius, she could at least put them on a skeleton crew and let her people rest, and once her shift was up she intended on doing just that.

Logan was still wrapping up his affairs at Tactical, but leaned over to catch her eye as she approached the turbolift. ‘Drinks later?’ he asked quietly. ‘Safe House?’

She paused. ‘Not the Round Table?’

His lips curled. ‘That’s a little more intimate, ain’t it? I was just thinking… relaxed drinks. What, afraid of being seen with me in public?’

It had to be a joke, at least; it was not as if the two of them meeting up in the officers’ lounge would protect them from the rumour-mill. The Safe House was more relaxed, more open, and that in itself eased some of the tension in her chest. ‘The Safe House,’ she confirmed. ‘1900 hours?’

‘I’ll be there.’

Tired though she was, she still hit the gym. It was a different kind of energy that needed working out; just her and the punching bag, letting some of the tiny coils of self control release, one thumping blow at a time. When she’d been a security officer, she’d imagined it was every shot she hadn’t fired, every iota of self-restraint she’d exercised. This was something else. Every decision not made. Every hesitation. Every mistake.

She found Caede in the locker room when she was done, looking like he’d pushed himself to the brink in the weights section. ‘Sorry you’ve got to go backwards to go forwards, Centurion. We’ll get you a top speed transport to the Republic when we get to Gateway.’

He grunted, pulling his locker open and grabbing a towel. ‘No. There’ll be a debriefing for me from the liaison there. They want to know exactly what happened to the Ihhliae before they let me back in and risk me saying something people don’t want to hear.’

Kharth turned to him. ‘You’re worried they’ll blame you.’

‘I wasn’t aboard. I’m the sole survivor.’ He didn’t look up, rummaging pointlessly through his affairs.

‘By sheer chance. Tell me when you’re being debriefed; I’ll be there, I’ll explain what happened. You weren’t even on the bridge. What were you supposed to do?’

‘That is the problem,’ he snapped. ‘My ship went down and I was nowhere. You don’t understand, Kharth; losing a ship like the Ihhliae is a disaster for the Republic. We’ve not got many.’

‘So the smart thing is to blame one of the officers they’ve got left? No way. I won’t let that happen.’

Caede raised his head, only to glare at the back of the locker. ‘Is that just a symptom of spending too much time with Starfleet? The baffling optimism?’

‘What?’

He turned. ‘When the world is harsh and coming at you as hard as it can, and it’s time to knuckle down and prepare, get ready to fight and claw your way to survive… and Starfleet just… hopes? How does that not drive you crazy?’

Kharth opened her mouth to say she didn’t know what he was talking about – but realised that was a lie. She hesitated. ‘…it does drive me a bit crazy.’

‘They don’t stop. Even when they should cut their losses. Back on the shuttle – Lindgren – we should have died. We should have all died. I was ready to leave you all to die.’ He threw an exasperated hand in the air. ‘She insisted we stay. And then I had to turn that… woolly-headed, hard-headed hope of a plan she had into… no.’ He stopped and rubbed his temples. ‘It was her idea. But I had to be the one to assess the battlefield, study the Hirogen ship, figure out where their sensors were weakest, figure how we could make our approach without being spotted and blown up, figure out where to shoot them…’

‘We’re grateful for that. I’m grateful for that.’

‘I didn’t do it for gratitude,’ Caede snapped. ‘I didn’t have a choice. She was going to get herself killed otherwise. Me with her. Damn it, Kharth, is that why you stay here? Because they’ve got the vision to save the galaxy, but they need someone who’s going to sharpen their knives and hold their shields when they walk out with arms outstretched?’

There wasn’t much, Kharth thought, about Lindgren’s idea to sneak attack the Hirogen which sounded like the sort of fluffiness Caede was accusing Starfleet of. But she understood the sentiment. The unshakeable belief in the impossible, and the willingness to face it that sometimes sounded naive.

She swallowed. ‘Someone has to watch their backs,’ she said quietly. ‘Someone has to be in the dark places and hold the line when Starfleet’s pointing at the shining light on the horizon. Yes.’ It didn’t feel like a lie, because she’d felt it herself. For years, she’d not felt like she was part of that light. But the sentiment sat heavy on her tongue, now, because its cynicism didn’t quite fit, either. Not any more.

Caede turned back to the locker, grabbing his hoodie. ‘It’s maddening,’ was all he said in a low grumble before he left.

She wasn’t back in her quarters for long, barely showered and changed – and even then, she’d only thrown on trousers and a spare baggy t-shirt and knew she’d stare at her wardrobe for ten minutes over-thinking what to wear to meet Logan in a way she never normally did and silently resented – before the door-chime went.

Nerves over meeting Logan in public for something apparently casual dissipated when she let Airex in, a whole new apprehension taking over. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’ He stepped inside, brow furrowed, hands clasped behind his back. ‘I’m not interrupting, I hope?’

‘No, I – I’ve got time.’

Airex looked to the window, to the stars streaking past. Then back to her. ‘Time before you meet Logan?’

She bit her lip. ‘Yeah.’

He gave an awkward nod. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk about. I mean – not that.’ Airex winced. ‘I came to see you the night before we left Underspace. You weren’t at your quarters. I asked the computer for your location. I… it was not my intention to intrude on your privacy like that.’

A combination of frustration, tension, and shame coiled in her chest. ‘Right. I see.’ She swallowed. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

‘We – a few months ago. You stated things to me in very plain terms, that you and I were nothing more than colleagues. You set a boundary, and I respected that. Respect that.’ He spoke in a low, clipped voice, and she knew he was fighting very hard for that level of self-control.

‘I remember,’ she said awkwardly.

‘But I felt the last weeks have… strained that boundary.’

She thought of the two of them, sat in Valance’s quarters, terrified and grieving together. She nodded. ‘Sure. Yes. Airex – Dav – I’m not about to… it’s been a lot, I can’t renegotiate lines right away or tell you everything you need to -’

‘My question was going to be a lot simpler,’ he butted in. ‘And then you’re – look, I have no right to know anything about your involvement with Logan, and I am trying to not pry, and…’ He looked away, and she could see a muscle twitching in the corner of his jaw. ‘My apologies. You don’t owe me anything. Certainly not walking on eggshells around me. You’ve been right to say my feelings are none of your business.’

He’d not known, she realised. He’d likely come down to her quarters at a late but civil hour, learnt she was at Logan’s, and left but only suspected. Her reaction now gave him the confirmation, and she could feel that pain spooling off him.

Despite herself, she sucked her teeth. ‘Dav, I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’ he asked bluntly, now turning to her. ‘You deserve to live your life, Saeihr. Suns know I denied you that for too long. Denied you the closure you needed, then reopened old wounds. I have no right, no right to your pity.’ He raised a finger, expression twisting as he steeled himself. ‘My question – it should be simple. The boundaries between us became blurred this mission. That’s not fair to you. Once the dust has settled, once we’re back at Gateway… you say the word, and I’ll put in for reassignment.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘What?’

‘You wanted to cut me out so you could heal and move on,’ he reminded her. ‘Then the moment things get tough, we… regress. We get too used to relying on each other. I don’t want to hold you back.’ He shook his head, and turned to the door. ‘Regardless of Logan. I don’t want to hold you back. Just think about it.’

The doors were open by the time she replied. It could have only been seconds, but it felt like lifetimes thudding in her chest before she blurted out, ‘Don’t go.’ He paused. ‘Don’t leave Endeavour. Not – not because of me.’ Kharth turned away, closing her eyes. ‘I didn’t lie to you. I still can’t do this without you.’

There was a long silence. Then she heard the doors shut. Then nothing more. He was gone.

She stood alone in her quarters longer than she intended, staring at nothing, pacing dents into the deck plating. All of that time doing nothing meant she lost track of time, dressed thoughtlessly casually, and had to hurry for a turbolift to avoid being not late – she was that already – but severely late.

The lift doors opened to show Thawn inside, in uniform, slumped against the walls. She struggled upright at the sight of her. ‘Oh – Commander.’

‘You look exhausted. Deck Ten.’

‘I… there’s still a lot of repairs to do. Maintenance.’ She rubbed her eyes.

Kharth looked her up and down. ‘No.’

‘What? There is -’

‘Get help from the Sirius or the Liberty if you need it. Tomorrow. Clock off tonight, Thawn. Go see that idiot boy Beckett. That’s an order.’ Despite herself, her gaze softened. ‘You’ve earned it.’

The turbolift slowed, reaching its destination. Thawn didn’t reply, but Kharth left her there. She’d done enough.

It should have felt like it, at least. The ship was almost home, being carried there by others. The hard part was done; they’d weathered the far side of the galaxy, and all its wonders and monstrosities, and made it home more or less in one piece. The losses had not been as harsh as they’d feared, and what wounds they’d taken could heal. Still, tension thrummed through her; they were not home yet, their wounds were not healed yet, they did not know the fallout of Underspace yet.

Like a plucked string, the thoughts hummed at the back of her mind even as she set foot in the Safe House. Swathes of the crew must have had the same idea as her, the lounge buzzing with the kind of release she hadn’t felt in here in some time. They’d survived. Now they got to enjoy it.

Lindgren and Winters, propping up the bar, got a casual wave; Kally and Ensign Fox, over by a window, a polite nod. Their responses were more muted than they had been in past days, less fraught – less respectful. It was comfortable, not rude; they knew Valance was alive, and they were no longer in peril. She no longer held their lives in their hands. She could be, once again, a little bit more one of them.

She found Logan in low, comfortable seats by one of the windows, a bottle of beer in his hand, watching her approach with a small smirk.

‘Just as well I didn’t get your drink in. What time do you call this?’

Kharth hesitated, wondering if she should tell the truth or come up with some excuse, but found neither. The quivering tension in her chest had quietened to a low hum. Returning his smirk, she slumped into the chair opposite. ‘Just keeping you on your toes, Jack. You ask a girl here, and you don’t fetch her a beer?’

His grin widened. And, for tonight at least, the tension left.