The ordered clamour of Rencaris journalists faded when Valance and Airex slid into the ground vehicle and shut the door behind them. The tour of the Forgotten Gardens, one of the oldest heritage sites on Rencaris III dating back to the colony’s founding, had seemed harmless on paper. Vhiemm had made sure the two Starfleet officers did not merely take in the sites, however, escorted by representatives of his administration performing honeyed propaganda.

That was less likely to affect the pair themselves. But it put on a good show for the journalists tipped off that Starfleet leadership were coming to pay their respects to Rencaris culture and history, with one of Vhiemm’s cabinet members there to give the most government-positive spin.

Vhiemm had insisted they travel from the Gardens back to the capital by land, in service of more media opportunities, but Valance had drawn the line at his offer of one of his own vehicles. Endeavour had deployed them with one of their own land vehicles, dusting off one of the few suitable for diplomatic purposes such as these.

It meant that Valance could slump back in the rear seats and loosen her jacket as she sighed, ‘I don’t know if nodding politely and saying nothing is worse.’ Here, she could express apprehension away from the watching eyes of the Rencaris government.

Sat across from her on the rear benches, Airex raised a cautious eyebrow. ‘I don’t believe we have a good option. What are you to do, start a public fight against their propaganda?’

‘I’m not sure being complicit in upholding this government is worth the price -’

‘We need time. We need repairs. It’s still a long way back to Gateway,’ he reminded her. Through the dimmed windows, Rencaris III’s woodland began to soar past as they accelerated. Soon it would be rolling greenery, then the suburbs of the city, then the towers of Vedrex. ‘This is better than actual resources or direct political concessions. There was always going to be a price.’

‘Mn.’ She propped her elbow against the door, eyes going to the window. ‘And the accident has only delayed us more. The opera’s tomorrow; we have to get access to the shipyards.’

‘Then consider today a win. We’ve shown good faith in the face of Vhiemm’s requests.’

‘What about the people of Rencaris who don’t like Vhiemm? But who see us, Starfleet, coming here and parading around with this government that beats and arrests them if they oppose him?’

‘I think,’ Airex said carefully, ‘those Romulans never looked to Starfleet for moral leadership in the first place.’

‘The Republic -’

‘Will benefit, actually, from Rencaris setting foot on the stage of local government. It’s much, much harder to maintain an iron control of a population when people and ideas flow into a society.’

‘Mn,’ she grunted again, eyes still on the view out the window, and said nothing.

It might have been ten minutes before Airex spoke again, his voice light. ‘The incident with Ledera -’

‘Is over,’ she found herself saying before she’d even thought if she wanted to discuss it with him.

‘There was nothing unreasonable about engaging her on her turf; that’s a perfectly rational diplomatic move -’

‘I didn’t do it because it was diplomatic,’ Valance said, gaze snapping to him at last. ‘I did it because I was furious. She got under my skin. It’s pathetic.’

He didn’t speak for a moment. Then, ‘Your crew were in danger -’

‘It wasn’t about them. It wasn’t about that. I was furious, yes, but I lashed out because…’ Because I heard in her the same things people have thrown at me. That Isa threw at me. Valance looked back to the window. ‘It was about me.’

Airex said no more, and the journey passed in silence. Back in the capital, there was one last perfunctory ceremony – nothing more than an obligation to shake Vhiemm’s hand on the steps outside his manor and say how compelling she found the Forgotten Gardens in front of a camera – before they could prepare to beam back aboard Endeavour and, she hoped, leave the whole sorry day behind them.

‘Kally to Captain Valance.’ The comms officer’s chirping voice through her badge threatened to cut short that escape. ‘We’re ready to beam you back, but we’ve just had word from the Suv’chu. General Brok’tan is inviting you aboard.’

She exchanged a glance with Airex. ‘Inviting me?’

‘It seems to be a, uh, social invite? He issued it earlier, but you were busy, so he said he’d want to see you when you’re done down there. If you’re free.’

Airex shrugged. ‘I’m sure your schedule can fit it in later -’

‘Do the report about today,’ she told him, and looked to her combadge. ‘I’ll see him now, Ensign. Have them beam me over.’

Returning to the site of her indignity was not ideal, but it felt preferable to Airex’s gentle, insistent, needling help. She knew that with his failure, he’d likely defer to Counsellor Dhanesh. She did not need more well-meaning Starfleet officers insisting that her feelings were valid.

The Klingon warriors stood before the Suv’chu’s transporter pad were dour-faced, but she recognised them as Brok’tan’s men. Politely, they led her through the halls of the warship that she was growing to know so well.

This time, she was not led to the great hall aboard the Suv’chu. Instead, she was led to a smaller, shrouded chamber. Footsteps were muffled by the furs and skins sprawled across the deck, and an open fireplace was built into a bulkhead. A heavy set of doors led to further rooms, but one glimpse at the low seating, the intimate space, and Valance realised these were Brok’tan’s private rooms.

The general himself sat before the open fire, a pewter tankard in his hand, gazing at the flames. His broad shoulders looked heavy, the flickering flames casting deeper shadows on the folds of his ageing face. He did not look up at her, even when the door slid shut behind her.

‘Captain.’ His voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel. ‘I’ve been reading about you.’

Valance had to stifle a sound of annoyance as she padded towards him. ‘You won’t understand me, or what I’m trying to do here, by reading about my battle-honours for Starfleet -’

‘What about for the empire?’ He looked up now, and extended a hand to the heavy, wooden, high-backed chair opposite. ‘Two years as a warrior on the qa’chaQ. As first officer on a KDF warship.’

‘In the exchange programme.’

‘When nobody else in Starfleet would see your worth.’

That was not how Valance remembered it. As a young officer on the USS Derby thrust into temporary command, she had made a brash choice that cost lives. She’d been banished to the hinterlands after on a backwater Starfleet assignment. ‘I’m not sure the KDF saw my worth either. It was just… something different.’

She expected Brok’tan to argue, but he simply nodded, eyes returning to the flame. After a moment’s contemplation, he pressed, ‘Was different so bad? So unwelcome?’

‘It was not… what I wanted. I wanted to be a Starfleet officer.’

Another nod. When he stood, he looked as if the shadows weighed him down. ‘What do you drink, Valance? By choice. It is not Bloodwine.’

‘I… enjoy raktajino.’

A scoff. ‘You do not have to make a Klingon request to appease me. We have resequencers.’

‘No, General – I actually, sincerely, like raktajino.’

‘That might be your only admission of liking something about Klingons. About yourself.’ He left her with those words and the firelight for a little, shuffling to the control panel on the wall to summon her a hot drink. It was an uncomfortable wait, not for the silence, but for what he had left her to chew on.

‘I formally apologise on behalf of the House of K’Var for what occurred with Captain Ledera,’ he said when he returned, placing a hefty mug of steaming, fresh raktajino on the solid armrest of her chair.

She had to scoff this time. ‘Lord Torkath tried to destroy my ship near Boreth. I don’t think the House of K’Var does apologise for abducting my officers.’

‘Lord Torkath does not rule this house. Nor does he command this front. I speak for the House of K’Var here. And I say that it was beneath us.’ He shook his head as he eased back onto the chair. ‘I should have let you beat her bloody.’

‘It would not have helped.’

‘It might have taught her a lesson. It might have taught you both a lesson.’

Valance’s jaw was tight as she sipped the drink. ‘I appreciate and accept the apology, General, and the hospitality, but I don’t think I need advice on -’

‘Your hearts warring with each other?’ He leaned back in the chair, weary. ‘Perhaps not. Much as it is my duty to guide any strong warrior, what is more pressing is that people such as you and I – respected officers of our respective powers – can talk. And that a voice in Starfleet such as yourself does not come away from Rencaris thinking that Ledera speaks for the Empire, and I speak for dying, ancient, naivete.’

‘We don’t have two hearts,’ Valance pointed out. ‘We have one eight-chambered -’

‘And yet the poets have disagreed for centuries,’ Brok’tan said levelly.

‘Perhaps. Regardless of poets, I think Chancellor Toral would like Captain Ledera’s approach more than yours.’

‘I think you know better than to presume Chancellor Toral is the only voice the Empire has. Our hearts war with each other, too, Captain. It is part of the Klingon way.’

Valance set the mug down and leaned forward. ‘Forgive me, General. You are here to establish a strategic foothold so your house can better invade and annex a Federation ally. Should I think your way of softer, more contemplative violent conquest is better?’

‘I think the Federation has been naïve to think the empire will be a peaceful ally. It is not our way. But I also think the Federation is naïve to think they must always be peaceful. History tells us that sometimes peace cannot be secured with lofty words or noble hearts. It is secured with a sword.’

‘How does invading the Republic secure peace?’

‘It does not,’ Brok’tan allowed. ‘But an alliance with Rencaris secures us a foothold when the time comes to confront the Free State.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘What does the Free State have to do -’

‘Indeed, the government whose intelligence agency orchestrated one of the greatest atrocities on Federation soil. There is one neighbour the Federation has where their respective fleets have nearly come to blows, and it is not the empire. This is the naivete of which I speak.’

‘I think it’s disingenuous to pretend you want Rencaris as an ally because you might want to fight the Free State, and that’s not what your superiors -’

‘My superiors and I want the same thing: a strategic foothold in the region. Some of them want it to launch the invasion of the Republic. Others, not merely myself, know that a strategic foothold in the region makes us responsible in the region. It means we have a stake. It means we have something to lose. It means that we have a vested interest in the future of this sector. That future is not necessarily served by all-out invasion.’

She watched him, jaw tight. ‘Superiors,’ she echoed at last.

‘Dakor is not Lord Torkath’s only brother,’ was all Brok’tan said.

‘Hearts in conflict with each other,’ she mused. ‘You cannot convince me to back off from trying to secure an accord with Rencaris simply because, if the House of K’Var does, the more stable elements of the house might prove victorious.’

‘I do not expect you to abandon your duty at all. But to understand the way of the warrior. Ledera thinks she knows the sum of it: to fight your enemies with clear eyes and full hearts. She forgets its subtler threads: to love your comrades. To rule wisely. To lead responsibly. To do what is best for your people.’ Brok’tan nodded at her. ‘You understand that more than you think.’

‘It does not make a Klingon special to care for their people -’

‘It does not. But we aren’t ashamed of it. We aren’t ashamed of fighting for them.’ He tilted his head quizzically. ‘I did not expect Starfleet to be.’

‘I’m not ashamed -’

‘Yes, Captain, you are. You are ashamed of both your hearts, or so you think. One Starfleet, one Klingon. Except you think the Klingon heart is nothing but fire and fury, and the Starfleet heart nothing but sense and reason. As if my people – our people – do not watch with careful intent to determine how to achieve the goal that makes our blood sing. As if Starfleet – humanity – does not love, and love deeply, so all the careful walls and structures protect… something.’ He pressed a hand to his chest, lips twisting wryly. ‘When all is well, Captain, the heart beats as one. Anything else is discord.’

Discord sounded a little too close to broken, and Valance sat up sharply. ‘Perhaps not all is well.’

‘It is not, and -’

‘And I accept your apology, and understand your political position, General, but again, I cannot change my path on the off-chance the non-bloodthirsty contingent of your faction -’

She stood, but so did he, and his bulk and intent stopped her short. ‘You lash out and flee. Which heart is telling you to do so, Captain?’

Valance swallowed. ‘This is not about my heart.’

‘It is always about our heart.’ He dropped his hand. ‘But you owe me no explanation. I do not apologise if I over-stepped. It is clear my words have landed. All I ask is you understand that they stem from a place of the deepest respect, and are an expression of hope that you and I, Karana, daughter of Jodmang, of the House of A’trok, can continue a relationship of like-minded souls. Even if we stand on opposing sides.’ His lips curled wryly. ‘That is a Klingon way of looking at it. But surely that is also a Starfleet desire?’

Hearts did not need to always be in conflict.

Brok’tan extended a hand and, taking a shuddering breath, Valance clasped him by the wrist.

‘Thank you for your hospitality, General.’

‘Go see to your people, Captain. Love them fiercely. Fight for them fiercely. It is the way of both your hearts.’