‘You were right, and I was wrong.’

Caede sat at the bar in the Safe House, and peered up at Kharth – still in her dress uniform, freshly beamed up from the opera – with a suspicious gaze. ‘Opera’s pretentious and boring?’ he ventured.

‘Our people need help.’ Loosening her collar, she slid onto the stool beside him. ‘And Starfleet’s negotiations aren’t giving them that. Not right now.’

‘It’s not the mission,’ said Caede, with more consideration than she’d expected. ‘But that doesn’t make it any less of an endorsement of an overbearing, totalitarian regime. Got sick of people pretending there are no problems down there?’

‘Oh, there were problems down there. It’s just nobody was talking about the ones which really mattered.’ Kharth signalled for a beer, but once the bottle was in her hand, took a while to stare at the label before she had a drink. ‘It was all about the powerful doing what they could to stay powerful. Romulan. Klingon. Even us.’

‘I can’t give you a pat on the head to make you feel better, Kharth -’

‘I can’t directly help a group of anti-government activists move against the Vhiemm regime,’ she cut him off. ‘But maybe I can help you help them.’

Caede sucked his teeth performatively. ‘I don’t know, Kharth; that could get you in trouble with the boss, and you’re such a respectable –’

‘Beckett just torpedoed the Klingon-Rencaris relations tonight. Valance is picking up the pieces and profiting, because she has to, because Vhiemm now desperately needs friends. I can’t piss off Vhiemm myself. But all I need is a little bit of deniability, and he can’t afford to be mad at Starfleet, or Rencaris is suddenly totally alone.’ She shifted to face him. ‘Beckett gave us capital to spend. Valance is spending it on the ship, which is her job. I want to spend what’s left over to actually make a difference in this place.’

Caede watched her for a moment, then pulled out a PADD from his jacket. ‘It’s only gone 2300 hours in the capital.’

‘The opera was cut short.’

He stood. ‘Go change. I’ll meet you at transporter room 2.’

The Fifth House bar was quiet when they eventually entered. Out of dress uniform, in run-down civvies, Kharth found herself moving at once with the easy confidence of someone who’d spent enough time in bars like this. It wasn’t a dive, but it was still where people went if they wanted to speak freely or be alone.

Caede directed them to the group led by the one he’d identified as Dhael. They sat at a table with books spread before them, drinks in hand, and their eyes were wary as the officers approach. Caede had explained that his militant approach burned them last time.

‘Commander Kharth.’ Dhael stood. ‘The Centurion said you wouldn’t come.’

‘Shows what he knows,’ Kharth scoffed, pulling up a chair. ‘He also said all you were doing was making some new protest art.’

The students froze. Dhael’s voice was careful. ‘We study traditional -’

‘Cut the act. I saw the recordings from when Sullis was arrested. Most people’s eyes were on him, not your banners, right? The ones with patterns which, when viewed from the right angle, showed the faces of other political prisoners?’ Kharth’s lips curled. ‘Smart. Subtle. And completely missed by the government, because they cared more about Sullis being disruptive.’

The students exchanged glances. Caede started to speak, but Kharth tapped him with her foot.

‘Art is… permitted,’ said the young student Venril with caution.

‘Art is powerful,’ Kharth corrected. ‘I spent the entire evening at the opera, watching the government of Rencaris try to pitch itself as the arbiter of Romulan culture, even for a message and story they couldn’t even begin to understand. They’re afraid of underground armies, but they know how to fight those. They don’t know how to fight ideas. Questions.’

Dhael glanced at Caede. ‘The Centurion said we needed to take direct action.’

‘The Centurion is telling you to fight the way he knows how to fight. That’s also how the government knows how to fight. Rule one of warfare is to never fight your enemy on their terms. You fight on yours.’ She leaned forward. ‘You’re already doing it. Poetry readings that are really rallies. Art installations. But you’re isolated. Limited.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

Kharth glanced at Caede. ‘The Republic has networks. Activists, people who’ve done this for years on a dozen worlds. They can help you reach more people, spread your message further. And when Vhiemm’s government tries to crack down, you’ll have support. Allies. Ways to get your people to safety if needed.’

The students exchanged looks. ‘This is sounding like open resistance,’ Venril said hesitantly.

‘I’m talking about smart resistance. You want to change minds? Show people what Rencaris could be? Then do it. Use your art, your poetry, make people question. Make them think. Make it impossible for Vhiemm to keep pretending he speaks for all of Rencaris.’

Dhael sighed. ‘It’s less dangerous than trying to fight.’

‘And with what you have, it might actually work. The Republic can help. But you have to be smart. No martyrs, nothing like what Sullis did again. No rushing in. Spread your networks, spread your message. Make it so when you do step into the open, you have support.’

Understanding was dawning in their eyes. ‘How do we start?’ said Dhael.

Kharth nodded to Caede. ‘He can connect you with the right people. And you’ll be doing it your way. Not his.’

When they left, the students’ conversation had shifted. Still poetry and art, but with purpose, now, plans. Hope.

As they stepped onto the cold streets of Vedrex, Caede muttered, ‘I still say they need combat training.’

‘That’s because that’s your way of fighting. It’s also closer to mine. But they’ve got to fight their way. You can’t make an army out of nothing. You’ve got to find what the army is, and help them be… whatever the hell they are.’ Kharth drew her jacket closer around her shoulders. ‘The Republic knows how to make this work.’

‘I guess it does.’ He glanced at her. ‘Look at you. Becoming a believer.’

‘Believer is a strong word. I got sick of doing nothing. They still might just get themselves locked up with the key thrown away.’

‘They might. You only take up fights you expect to win?’

Kharth sighed. ‘Just leave me out of the report to the Republic for now.’

‘Why? Someone might mistake you for someone who wants to make a difference to the Romulan people?’ But Caede inclined his head. ‘They listened to you. That was good stuff.’

‘Sure. Good stuff. Let’s head back.’

It was late by the time they beamed back aboard Endeavour. She should have headed to her quarters, headed to bed. But her feet took her further down the corridor of Deck 2, deeper into the halls of senior officers’ rooms, even as she told herself that what was beginning to burn in her could wait until tomorrow. All she’d do was disturb him.

But when the door slid open and Jack Logan, sleepy in underwear and an academy t-shirt, greeted her, she knew she had to seize the drive to actually make decisions that had settled on her tonight.

‘Opera costume changed,’ Logan drawled, rubbing his eyes.

‘I took a detour after. Can I come in?’

‘Uh. Sure.’ He stepped back, calling for dim lights, and stood with myopic confusion as she entered. ‘It’s 0100, Sae.’

‘This could wait,’ she admitted, walking past him to pace. ‘But I’ve had an evening of getting my ass kicked for how passive I’ve been, and I’m trying to turn that around, which means I try to turn it around for you.’

He slouched to the breakfast bar and slid onto the stool, rubbing his eyes again. ‘You realised you were an ass to yell at me for taking you somewhere quaint?’

‘I was, in fact, an ass to yell at you for taking me somewhere quaint.’ She winced. ‘You’ve put up with a lot of me being an ass, haven’t you.’

‘Won’t pretend I didn’t know it came with the territory. But this one were a surprise.’ He straightened. ‘Did it occur to you that I took us to this quaint, rural little festival ‘cos I might like it?’

‘…no.’

‘Felt a bit like home,’ mused Logan. ‘Rural towns are much the same in most places. Sure, we don’t wear masks in fall in Kentucky, but… I can’t so easily go to the little township gatherings we do throw anyway. Not lookin’ like this.’ He gestured to his face, his arms, the implants marring his skin. He glanced up, grimacing. ‘Easier to sneak in as a tourist someplace it don’t really matter if they clock me and want me out of town.’

Kharth bit her lip. ‘I didn’t think about any of that.’

‘Well, no. You didn’t ask. An’ you were busy pretending you don’t have a problem as part of the Romulan diaspora. ‘Cos then you’d have to do something about it.’ He sounded tired, and tired in a way which made her back tense.

She was silent for a moment, and in the end, all she could say was, ‘I’m sorry.’ It sounded small, insufficient. It probably was. But it was also all she had.

He gave a tired nod. ‘Thank you.’

‘I… should have let this wait until morning, shouldn’t I.’

‘Probably.’ Logan shifted his weight. ‘Look, I knew what I were lettin’ myself in for, chasing you and all. I can get over this. But not in the middle of the night.’

She could apologise. She could explain. And even if he accepted it, understood it, that wouldn’t undo the hurt she’d inflicted by being so turned inward she’d ignored the feelings of the one person who’d actually tried to make this process of reconnecting with her people easier. Fun, even.

‘Okay,’ said Kharth, feeling a lot colder than she had even in the night-clad streets of Vedrex. ‘Can we do… lunch, sometime?’ Again, her voice sounded small.

And because he was patient, because he had known ‘what he was letting himself in for’ with her, his lips gave a faint curl. ‘Drinks after duty shift tomorrow?’

She gave a small, pleased nod. ‘Maybe I can tell you about the opera. The good bits.’

‘I’d like that.’

It wasn’t much, she thought as she left him. Neither was Endeavour’s deal with Vhiemm to use the shipyards. Neither was her work with Caede’s little band of students. Neither had been her fleeting spark of a sense of connection, of thwarted belonging, to Romulan culture stoked by the opera house.

It wasn’t much. But it could be enough. If she let it grow. Helped it grow.