Jutting out from the crest of Gateway Station, nestled among sensor and communications spires, the view from the modular towers at the apex of the starbase was nothing short of spectacular. A slanted window reaching upward and outward let the station tumble down before the viewer, the bustling hub at the heart of the Midgard Sector a shining beacon of light and life. Further below, vast enough to make demands of the view but not so mighty it blocked out the oblivion of deep space above and beyond, the greens and sapphires of the planet Alfheim rolled gently.

Captain Valance had not been up here before. In the months since the USS Endeavour had been posted to the Midgard Sector, she had reported to the station commander, whose offices oversaw the operations centre in the heart of Gateway. But in the years since Starfleet’s downturn had been rescinded, the Federation turning its eye again to the wider galaxy, Midgard had shifted from a neglected frontier to a borderland worthy of investment and attention. A mere station commander had been enough – until now. Now, more infrastructure was needed, and offices that had lain dormant and unused since the starbase had been positioned deep behind the Klingon-Federation border as a hub along major spacelanes were being reopened. Which meant Valance was not stood at the door to a station commander’s office. She was sat in the comfortable anteroom, waiting on an admiral.

It was considerably more comfortable and well-appointed. The plush carpet underfoot was fresh, and the browns and bronzes of the bulkheads kept the metals warm. Potted plants in the corners gave a pop of colour and life. The staffer had even offered her a raktajino as she waited. Valance quietly resented liking raktajino so much; it was difficult to know if she was being offered it because someone had done their homework on her tastes, or if she, a half-Klingon officer, was being profiled. She’d turned it down, regardless. Walking into an office with a half-finished drink in hand did not project the sort of first impression she cultivated.

‘Captain?’ The staffer looked up from her desk console, steely gaze impassive. ‘The admiral will see you know.’

The far doors opened at her approach, beckoning her inside the new beating heart of the Midgard Sector. The carpet underfoot was, if anything, more plush.

Vice Admiral Owen Morgan, Commander, Midgard Sector, rose from behind the large, mahogany desk, the ornate crafting and carving along the edges and legs both detailed and imperfect enough to suggest it had been shaped by mortal hands, not technology. ‘Captain Valance, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.’

He was in many ways an unremarkable man, average in height and build, his wavy and gently tousled brown hair slashed with silver. Expressive blue eyes sat above a rather pointed nose, high cheekbones, and well-groomed salt-and-pepper beard. But he approached with a smile Valance couldn’t help but find disarming, and a handshake that was firm enough to establish a presence, brisk enough to establish a connection, and light enough that it suggested he wasn’t trying to linger over the whole thing.

‘Admiral, sir. Thank you for receiving me.’

‘Receiving you? I asked for you, didn’t I?’ He glanced her over. ‘Are you sure you don’t want a drink?’

‘I -’

‘Storrins!’ Morgan called just before the doors slid shut; in a flash, his aide was there. Valance had hardly seen her walk. ‘Storrins, that raktajino – you take it black, no sugar, yes, Captain? – for Captain Valance. Post-haste.’

Before she knew it, Valance was sat across from Morgan at his desk, a raktajino in hand. Storrins had not merely replicated a drink, but brought in a steaming porcelain cup and saucer with delicate gold trim.

Vice Admiral Morgan leaned back in the overstuffed, burgundy leather armchair behind his desk, bracketed by its brass nailhead trim. ‘Welcome back to Gateway Station, Captain. It’s been quite a month for you.’ He spoke in a soft voice, though she suspected he would rarely struggle to be heard.

‘Yes, sir. I’m sorry we couldn’t return in time to join the squadron heading rimward. Meetings with the Elkari were at a delicate point.’

‘I quite understand. As did Commodore Rourke. Though between you and me, I think he was rather disappointed you couldn’t head out with him.’ Morgan sipped from his own teacup.

‘I’d imagine so, sir; Endeavour’s a useful ship in any formation.’

‘Endeavour’s wasted in any formation,’ the admiral mused. ‘You’ve a multi-mission vessel that can handle almost anything the galaxy can throw at it on its own; that’s such a coup for you as almost your first command, such a fresh captain, not even forty yet.’

‘I…’ Valance hesitated, unsure if he was calling her inexperienced, unsure if he was criticising her for her desire to mobilise with the squadron. In the end, she settled for, ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘I know Captain MacCallister thought very highly of you; we served together as junior officers, did you know?’

Leonidas MacCallister, former captain of Endeavour’s predecessor, had never so much as mentioned serving alongside a member of the admiralty. He had routinely – gently, as was his way – passed comment on knowing admirals who were more interested in keeping life quiet for the Core Worlds than pushing to make life easier for those in the galaxy’s more shadowy corners.

Morgan was carrying on, seeming unfazed by her diplomatic silence. ‘He spoke very highly of you, last we talked. And it’s no wonder Commodore Rourke counts on you so. But nevermind. Sirius has the Redemption and the Ranger with her. More than enough to shore up the Republic in whatever they’ll be coming across.’

‘Perhaps.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Endeavour could catch up…’

‘Oh. No. I have a mission for you.’ Morgan reached out to press a button on his desk, and a holographic image sprang up between them, emerging from a projector built in to the edge of the mahogany desk. A picture of a sun, an asteroid belt, and a space station facility hovered in the air.

Valance frowned. ‘Scarix?’

‘Facility Director Selwyn Dyke sent a message to Gateway this morning, an urgent one requesting help. Their sensors have detected the buildup of a solar flare in the star, HD 168746-Gamma.’ Morgan had to read the display to confirm the star name, brow furrowed as he observed. ‘They need our help weathering it.’

‘What kind of help?’

‘We expect intense radiation the station will need shielding against, a coronal mass ejection sending charged particles into the asteroid belt that will, again, need shielding against, possible geomagnetic storms. The usual challenges.’

‘Surely a facility of the size and capacity of Scarix is built with sufficient shielding to protect it.’

‘Not against a flare of the magnitude they expect. They won’t get through it without aid.’ Morgan’s voice was gently chiding.

Valance peered at the display and frowned. ‘Between the workforce, support staff, and civilians, Scarix has got, what, fifteen thousand people on the various facilities? With Endeavour and the Swiftsure, we could evacuate.’

‘An evacuation would protect the people, not the facilities themselves.’

‘Those facilities are dotted across the entire belt, across most of the system -’

‘And they don’t want to lose what they’ve built to a cosmic event.’

Valance looked from the holo-display to Admiral Morgan’s even, gentle expression. ‘Sir, the Scarix Facility – HD 168746-Gamma – isn’t in Federation space.’

‘No,’ Morgan allowed, ‘but Dyke Industries are a Federation company. And one of the biggest producers of boromite in the quadrant. With Scarix one of their biggest sources.’

Valance bit down on the myriad of rebuttals she could offer. At length, she said, ‘I’m not sure this needs both ships.’

‘You’re right, Captain. I didn’t mention the Swiftsure. She’s continuing border defence infrastructure development within Federation territory. You’ll be taking Endeavour out. The flare’s expected in about ten days.’

There was a pause as Valance ran her thumb along her jawline, trying to not fidget to betray her frustration. ‘Sir, we still have a lot of work we can do with the Elkari on Rencaris -’

‘They won’t join the Republic any time soon. The Republic don’t want them to, Captain; that’s another border they’d have to expand to accommodate. They would have done so for access to Underspace, but that’s gone, now. There’s no carrot. It’s good for you to build up relations with the Elkari; heaven knows friends that far out might be useful. But you’ve not secured so much as a resupply agreement.’

‘I could, with more time. And our study of the Mesea Storm was making progress. I came back for the deployment to the Republic -’

‘Commodore Rourke will do without you, Captain, and neither diplomatic overtures to the Elkari nor study of the Mesea Storm are time-sensitive. Captain Dashell and the Liberty are continuing their studies of Koperion. The Swiftsure is needed for the border defences, Independence is providing escort in case our friends in the Synnef Nebula decide to interfere. I can spare the Tempest for patrol support in case the likes of the Syndicate decide to take an interest in Scarix in its hour of need, but, simply put, Captain, Federation citizens need you.’

You mean, the economic interests that Scarix represents need us. Valance knew better than to raise that point with a brand-new sector commander, however. She straightened. ‘Then of course we’ll help, Admiral.’

Morgan softened. ‘I know this isn’t the sort of work you’re used to. We all have to humble ourselves from time to time, though, Captain. If you need more support, however, I’m happy to spare the SCE Team.’

Valance was careful to keep her expression measured. ‘I’m sure Commander Thawn is up to the task, but this is a massive engineering project. Thank you, sir.’

As if reading her mind anyway, he pressed on to say, ‘And I think it would be good if you invited Ms Rivera. No doubt something like this would be of interest to her.’

The PR from a journalist of a Starfleet ship on an errand of mercy for a frontier industrial facility could definitely be helpful. It didn’t make Valance resent the suggestion any less. She didn’t show that, either, merely nodding and saying, ‘Yes, sir.’

When she emerged from the admiral’s office soon after, she was left with the contrasting sense of having been lectured and humbled by a slightly passive aggressive but deeply amiable family dog. The fine china teacup was left on Storrins’s desk as she walked, somewhat dumbstruck, for the corridor. Once out of the aide’s earshot, she hit her combadge.

‘Valance to Kharth. Change of plans on resupply before heading rimward; I’m sending you a mission profile and supply list now. Get Caede and Thawn on it on the double.’

Any reply from her XO was overlooked as the turbolift doors opened and into the corridor stepped the burly figure of the station commander. Valance stopped mid-step; she had not dealt with Fleet Captain Lionel Jericho as much as many in the squadron, or even many aboard Endeavour. But it was not much of an exaggeration to suggest that he’d ruined her life.

So long as she took no credit for that herself.

She’d assumed him surly and officious, and was surprised when he glanced past her to the doors to the admiral’s offices, and gave her a wry smile. ‘Your turn to be tipped upside-down by him, huh?’

‘I… don’t know what you mean, sir.’

‘Relax, Valance.’ Jericho sauntered over. ‘I know you’ve only been back a minute. Things changed while you were gone. But you’ll learn fast enough to push back against Morgan. He might be all kindness and charm, but the man hates nothing more than the idea of upsetting someone. It’s just nobody tends to speak their mind to an admiral.’

Valance’s eyebrows went up. ‘And you do, sir?’

‘I’m a little bit too disgraced to go and do anything like that,’ Jericho mused. ‘But so long as I’m helping out the good Federation citizens here, he pays me no mind. You’re the problem.’

‘Problem?’

‘Yeah. Taking a big, impressive ship anywhere but Federation space.’ He tutted, then sighed and shook his head. ‘I know. Officers like me and you were made for more action than that. You got Scarix?’

Jericho was openly criticising the sector commander, talking to her in a comradely fashion that befit their rank but not their shared experiences. She let implication do more talking than her words when she said, ‘I was surprised we didn’t send the Swiftsure.’

‘Nah. She’s got to put up walls against the shadows so people at home feel safe – not because the walls will do anything, but they make people feel better. You get to venture into the night.’ He looked past her to the door beyond. ‘I shouldn’t keep him waiting. Good hunting out there, Valance. And don’t get too dismissive of Scarix, neither.’

‘I know, sir; it’s important work to -’

‘No, no. You don’t need lecturing on that. I mean, you’re still stepping back into the shadow.’

‘We’ve hardly had any reports of activity from the Three Lost Crows, or the Syndicate, or the Rebirth,’ she pointed out.

‘For sure, Midgard politics are sending you out there, not threats from beyond. And that’s the problem,’ Jericho said, before going to walk past her, towards the office of Vice Admiral Morgan, Commander, Midgard Sector. ‘Don’t forget that the worst things in the dark are usually things we’ve brought with us.