The racetrack had been loud. Exuberant. Fast-flowing. And so had the alcohol.

Lindgren normally liked to have breakfast in the Safe House or in her quarters; this morning, she opted for the Round Table. In her own rooms, she might have stayed under the covers and not come out. In public, her headache might have split her skull open. Here, in the privacy of the officers’ mess, she could slink in, get a coffee and breakfast bagel from the replicator, and hide in a booth in the low, gentle lighting until she felt more alive.

‘I need you.’ Caede slid into the opposite seat without asking.

The bacon tasted good. Salty and enriching. Lindgren glared balefully at the bagel he was stopping her from eating, before she glared balefully at him. ‘I’m not in the mood for your charm today, Caede.’

He made a face. ‘I’m not trying to be charming. There’s work to do.’ He leaned forward. ‘Yesterday, the Rencaris government arrested a man named Sullis, who works for the University of Vedrex. He interrupted a public event held by Governor Vhiemm, calling out all of their oppressive -’

‘Caede. I’m sorry, this sounds awful, but do I look like I’m… I don’t know what you want from me here, but I’m pretty sure I can’t give it.’

He rolled his eyes, reaching into his jacket. ‘Thought you might say that,’ he grunted, and pulled out a hypospray. ‘Got that from Sickbay. Fix yourself.’

‘I… what?’

‘Last year, fifteen protestors were shot in the Khalaman Plaza in Vendex. Five months ago, the government shut down a whole wing of Sullis’s university because they taught things they didn’t like about the fall of Romulus. These people are bad guys and we’re helping them.’ Caede’s expression was flat.

Lindgren watched him before, reluctantly, taking the hypospray. She made sure to give it a quick examination before she dosed herself, and within heartbeats her head started to clear. She smacked her lips at the acrid taste of adrenaline. ‘You better not have made me drug myself just so you can complain about the civil rights of people down there. It’s sad, but what are we -’

‘We could avoid legitimising the bastards by working with them,’ Caede grumbled. ‘Failing that, I intend to make the most of the cover Endeavour’s giving me.’

‘Cover?’

He leaned forward. ‘There are people in this system who want a better way of life. I’ve found where I can find the student movement that Sullis was a part of. I want to reach out to them. I need you with me.’

‘It’ll hardly help negotiations if a Starfleet officer -’

‘Does her job?’ Caede’s lip curled. ‘Oh, be nice and fluffy and uplifting, but only if it’s not hard? I’d do it myself, but Rencaris Security doesn’t need an excuse to disappear me if they catch wind and see me walking the streets. You don’t have to lift your pretty head. Just be my shield. Come on.’

She wasn’t sure why she followed him. Probably because he had something approaching a point.

The bar was as far from the wide, grand streets of Vedrex one could get while still being in the capital. Called the Fifth House, Caede had to explain the name as they approached the doors, both in civilian clothes: Rencaris had been founded by four great houses, with power largely drifting between them. This was the home of everyone else: the rabble. Inside, worn copper and steel fixtures caught the dim lighting, and faded banners of the Star Empire decorated the walls in what Lindgren suspected was more irony than nostalgia.

She looked up at Caede and rolled her eyes. ‘They won’t talk to you if you look like you’re counting exits,’ she murmured.

His scowl deepened. ‘I wasn’t counting exits. I was counting security cameras.’ But he rolled his shoulders as if trying to loosen up. It made him look like he had backache.

Young looking Romulans clustered around tables, wearing, to Lindgren’s eyes, clothing that marked them out as affluent enough they were probably students of Vartax’s prestigious university – or those working very hard to pass as such. But while their clothes were pressed and proper, their manner was not, and voices raised in discussion went quiet when the human and her Romulan companion entered.

‘Easy,’ she murmured as Caede tensed. ‘Let them come to us.’

They made their way to the bar. The bartender was an older Romulan woman who’d probably been here since the fall of the Star Empire of Romulus, and gave them a look that suggested she’d seen everything since. ‘What’ll it be?’

‘Havaran ale, from the Republic,’ Caede said, and Lindgren considered punching him. Her hangover hadn’t worn off that much.

She watched it land with the subtlety of a stone tossed in water, leaving splashes rather than whispers of conversation spreading through the bar. She tried her most disarming smile. ‘I’ll have what’s local.’

‘Bold choice,’ said a voice to her left, and Lindgren turned to see a young woman garbed like a student regarding them both. ‘Most off-worlders stick to what they know.’

‘When in Vartax,’ Lindgren said easily.

The woman waved a hand at the bartender. ‘The kirhc brandy for the Starfleet officer.’ Her gaze slid to Caede. ‘Your ale might have to wait; we only get shipments when trade regulations allow.’

‘It served a point,’ he said, rather impatiently.

‘Dhael,’ she introduced herself, looking between them. ‘You’re from Endeavour.’

‘Lieutenant Lindgren. This is Ce -’

‘Caede,’ he said, cutting off her rank. ‘You knew Sullis.’

This was like another rock he’d hurled. Dhael’s grip on her drink shifted, knuckles whiter. ‘Lots of people knew Sullis. He taught us.’

‘Before he was arrested. For speaking out against the K’Var alliance, because of how it would turn Romulan against Romulan -’

‘Are you trying to get more of us arrested?’ Dhael’s voice was acidic. ‘If not, drop your voice. And maybe join us.’

The table they approached held three other students, all looking as tense as Dhael had when Caede mentioned Sullis. He didn’t seem to care, sitting down with the grace of a frustrated targ.

‘Sullis was brave,’ he started at once. ‘He saw what was happening and he acted.’

‘He was foolish,’ one of the students said. At Caede’s darkening expression, he added, ‘That’s what everyone is saying. What it’s sensible to say.’

‘And you’ll let him rot in prison. While you sit here and in your classes discussing poetry.’

Dhael looked at Lindgren. ‘Is he usually this obtuse?’ She glanced back at Caede. ‘They’re watching us all now. His friends, his students. Waiting to see who else will step out of line. What did you expect to find here? A resistance cell ready to storm the detention centre?’

Caede’s expression didn’t shift. ‘You’ve got to stick your head above the parapet some day. You think that Vhiemm will want a hornet’s nest with Starfleet around? People he wants to impress?’

‘That didn’t save Sullis.’

‘The captain knows about his arrest now,’ said Lindgren softly. ‘We’ve need a moment to get the lay of the land. We have it. It can be made diplomatically inconvenient for the administration to be too heavy handed.’

‘People aren’t just scared,’ Caede surmised, ‘you’re angry. Or I damn well hope you are. Now’s the time to use that anger. With the eyes of two foreign governments on you.’

‘We aren’t soldiers,’ one of the other students said quietly. ‘We’re scholars. Artists. We’re speaking truth to power, not starting violence in the streets.’

‘That power isn’t listening,’ Caede scoffed. ‘The Republic -’

‘Isn’t here,’ Dhael cut him off. ‘You are. Causing attention none of us can afford right now.’ She stood. ‘I think you should leave. Before someone decides a Republic officer asking questions about a political prisoner is worth reporting.’

Lindgren touched Caede’s arm as he tensed, saw the muscle working in his jaw. After a long moment, he gave a sharp nod and stood.

‘Jolan tru,’ he grunted.

Lindgren lingered a moment after he headed for the door. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘He means well. But it’s true what we said: Starfleet isn’t going to stand by if something happens. Things moved fast with Sullis. That won’t happen again.’

‘That doesn’t mean we do what he says.’ But Dhael’s voice softened. ‘Sullis knew the risks. We all do. But there’s a right way to do things.’

As Lindgren followed Caede to the door, she heard how conversations around them shifted. No longer silenced by surprise at their present, they talked about poetry, music, art. Some of it she recognised; pieces from the diaspora, even pieces from the Republic. Art of the wider Romulan people, not merely what Rencaris dictated. This wasn’t the rebellion Caede wanted, but embers were there. Quieter. Subtler.

She found him outside, jaw tight, arms folded across his chest. ‘Children,’ he spat as she joined him.

‘I thought you had a better plan than that,’ she admitted, eyes sweeping the street for sign of a surveillance drone. She was Starfleet in their city. They’d be watching even if she couldn’t see them. ‘You went up to a bunch of kids and asked them to form a militia.’

He grunted. ‘I wasn’t much older than them when I was fighting for the Republic. Only the Republic was just a dream then, fighting with the flotilla, trying to get to what would become New Romulus. They’re weak.’

Lindgren grabbed his arm and turned him towards her. ‘You made contact. You know who they are. You know what they’re like. So you can plan your next move, but… what’s the goal here? Incite a rebellion?’

‘If that’s what it takes.’ His lip curled. ‘Valance is making nice with these bastards in charge, going to the fucking opera, and -’

‘Then tell her what’s going on! She saw about Sullis, tell her about this!’

‘You think the Federation is going to fund a rebellion against the Rencaris government? That sounds like a great time to hide behind your non-interference policy instead,’ he sneered.

‘Well, I guess you’re fucked, then!’ she spat before she could stop herself. ‘And I should bow before your world-weary cynicism, rather than, God forbid, try to find a way forward!’

His eyes widened, and she realised she’d never really snapped at him before. The lingering hangover was clearly having some impact. He looked away, somehow sheepish. ‘They were right about one thing. I am a soldier. They’re not. I’m not even an insurgency expert.’

‘Only they will know their world well enough to know how to fight for it,’ she said, reaching for his arm again as she softened. ‘You don’t need to tell them what to do. You just… need to speak in the same language as them.’

His brow furrowed, but this time it was with thought, not anger. ‘Or find someone who speaks it.’