Not for the first time, Logan hit the mat, and not for the first time, he laughed. ‘You got me, Cap. Good round.’

Stood over him in the boxing ring in Endeavour’s gymnasium, Valance smacked her gloves together with a curt nod. ‘Good round,’ she said respectfully, ‘but I think I’m done for the day.’

‘Really? I was gonna have you on the ropes at any second.’ He accepted the help up, the half-Klingon captain hauling him to his feet with very little effort. Her physical ease around him was refreshing, not just in being able to throw him around in the ring and after, but that it brought a lack of apprehension in a space like this. Stripped down to exercise gear, the Borg implants gleamed along his forearms, and in the ring he moved with a speed, precision, and strength that further belied his nature.

But Captain Valance could knock him on his ass without blinking, and he fancied she liked the chance to let loose, too.

‘I appreciate the bout,’ Valance said, wiping her face with the towel hanging off the corner post. ‘But we’re getting in new sensor readings every light-year we inch further into the Expanse. I want to know more than what’s ahead of us – but what’s to port and starboard, too.’

‘Any word on our could-be tail?’ He started unstrapping his gloves.

‘Nothing new. Which makes me think it was a sensor ghost and some bad luck, or a KDF ship being nosy and losing interest.’

‘No need to breach the Khitomer Accords over it, then.’

Valance’s lips quirked. ‘Quite.’

‘It’s all studious of you, Captain, to do the extra astro-nav reading,’ said Logan, holding the rope up for her to duck out of the ring, ‘but you should get a break, too. Once we hit our destination, there’s no telling when we kick back.’

‘I’ll take that under advisement, Commander.’

‘Which is a polite way of saying, “Mind your business,”’ drawled Logan, but he spoke too lightly for Valance to give him anything other than a pointed look. ‘Just saying my piece, Cap. You have a good evening.’

He never used the gym changing rooms, to avoid the eyes on him from stripping down, showering, so it was a quick trip back to his quarters. Even on Endeavour, where he’d served for eighteen months now, and had guided large swathes of the crew through the emotional aftermath of Frontier Day, he still got looks. They weren’t daubed in fear and apprehension any more – not in the way they’d have been two years ago – but it was still noted. Seen.

He wasn’t the monster in the dark these days. But to older officers, he was still catalogued – xB. To the younger, there was the added glint of there but for the grace of God go I.

They had been taken over by the Collective for long, furtive hours where they’d slain their shipmates and wreaked havoc across the Federation. But they didn’t have metal embedded in their skin as a permanent reminder of all they’d done.

And for a man who’d been a drone for long years in the heart of the Collective in the 2390s, the things Logan had a fuzzy recollection of doing – or seeing – or being a part of – made Frontier Day look like a bar fight.

The mood he was in left him glad he was headed for the Round Table, the lounge set aside for senior officers. He didn’t much feel like playing nice for all and sundry, though he arrived to find it quiet at this time of the evening, most of his colleagues getting dinner or enjoying the Safe House’s more bustling atmosphere.

He would have gone straight to a table by the viewports, but Beckett sat at the bar with Elias Walker, and his eyes were screaming. With a hint of pity, he wandered over and clapped the young intelligence officer on the shoulder. ‘Evening, fellas. Mind if I join you for a round?’

‘Jack! Pull up a stool.’ Beckett sounded a little too enthusiastic. ‘You two met on the bridge, I expect.’

‘But not socially.’ Walker extended a hand, but there was a coolness to his eyes Logan could read all too easily. ‘Eli Walker.’

‘Jack Logan. How’re you finding hitching a ride so far?’

Walker gave a hint of a sigh. ‘As I was reminding Nate, it’s a little more than that. There’s no telling when Endeavour will meet up with the squadron. Until then, I’m here to represent the squadron’s strategic interests.’

‘The squadron’s,’ Logan echoed thoughtfully as he ordered a beer. ‘That’s a real vague remit. The squadron is a huge unit, doing lots of things. Including fretting about Midgard Sector security while we’re out here. So when you say that, do you mean Commander Harrian’s needs? Commodore Rourke’s needs?’ He hefted the bottle as it was set in front of him. ‘Admiral Morgan’s needs?’

Walker’s gaze remained cool. ‘I don’t see those as separate.’

Logan laughed humourlessly. ‘Sure, you do. Harrian’s there to keep lines of communication ticking over, which would put you in a position to ferry info out and in – though, really, ain’t that part of Nate’s job?’ He tilted his head at Beckett, who looked like he wasn’t sure if he was regretting looping Logan in or not.

‘I get information from various sources,’ said Beckett awkwardly, ‘and feed them back much wider than the squadron…’

‘Which would make Commander Walker’s job here a mite redundant. And I don’t see how he needs to represent Commodore Rourke’s needs, ‘cos he and Valance are tight.’ Logan crossed his fingers. ‘So squadron strategic interests sounds like code for “Admiral Morgan’s needs,” which is much more about what internal Federation politics wants than Starfleet frontier agendas.’

‘Oh wow,’ said Beckett with mock-awe, cutting in before Walker could reply. ‘This got way more political than I expected. I just wanted a beer.’

Walker’s gaze had not left Logan. ‘You’re insinuating, Commander, that I’m not going to support this ship’s operations. That’s a bold claim for a man who just met me.’

‘No, see, I saw how you handled yourself on the bridge, and who you handled yourself with.’ Logan shifted to face him. ‘So I dare say I got the measure of things.’

For a moment, it looked like Walker might argue. Then he drained his bottle of beer – synthale, the most standard fare one could order from the Round Table bar – and set it down on the countertop. ‘I better get to my reports,’ he said, voice forcibly light. ‘We’ll catch up some time, Nate. A pleasure, Commander Logan.’

Beckett made polite noises and watched him go, but the moment the doors shut behind him, he rounded on Logan. ‘That wasn’t smart,’ he hissed.

‘What?’ grunted Logan. ‘You’re not the only one who grew up with these kinds of fellas. Think they’re “one of the guys” until it’s time to play “who can trace their family line back to the Federation’s founding -”’

‘I didn’t say he wasn’t annoying, or a shithead hawk,’ Beckett cut in. ‘I’m saying he’s the worst combination of annoying, shithead hawk who’s well-connected and really competent. Damn, Jack, did you think the glorious new age meant we didn’t have to play politics?’

Logan opened his mouth to argue, but felt the sizzle in his belly subside for something much more tired and nauseous. He grimaced and put his beer down. ‘Alright! You’re right. Guess I’m used to these sorts of fellas writing me off and banishing me to the hinterlands whatever I say and do, so I get my licks in while I’m still here.’

‘You’ve got to manage people like Eli Walker,’ Beckett pressed. ‘We talk about old times, sports teams, music, trips we’ve taken. You know, nothing of substance. Because, tiresome as he is as a drinking pal, he’s ten times worse as an enemy.’

‘I’ll play nice.’ Logan lifted his hands. ‘Don’t want to make the captain need to burn currency on my behalf, or nothing, after all.’

‘Exactly.’ Beckett subsided. ‘I’ll smooth it over. He’s going to want to pretend to be enlightened with an xB, at least until he can cook up different excuses to hate you. Don’t give him fodder.’

‘Right. I’m just… Been out of sorts.’

‘Haven’t we all,’ murmured Beckett, but there was a questioning look in his eyes.

For a moment, Logan considered taking the younger man up on the unspoken offer to talk. That had rarely been the direction of their dynamic, but over the past year, he’d found Beckett either more steady or more circumspect.

They, too, had spoken more of sports teams, music, and trips, he mused.

But the doors slid open anew before he could decide, and Logan sucked his teeth. ‘I’ll catch up with you later, Nate,’ he said, clapping the young man on the shoulder, and stepping away. If Beckett was going to object, he fell silent the moment he spotted Kharth heading over.

They met in the middle of the lounge, the most exposed and awkward of all possible options. Logan tried to keep his voice light as he said, ‘Worried you weren’t coming.’

‘I was finishing off the shift rota. I’d have said if I weren’t coming.’ She spoke in that clipped voice that made his heart sink, but when he ushered her to one of the low tables at the back by the tall windows, she joined him. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

Logan made himself lean back, forcing the casual body language. ‘I just had a run-in with Walker,’ he sighed. ‘Picked a fight like an idiot.’

‘Do you think that’s going to be a problem?’

‘Nah. Nate said he’d smooth things over. Just a reminder that with politicos on board, you gotta remember to play politics.’

Kharth was quiet, watching him expectantly. He didn’t say anything, keeping an amiable expression. ‘Do you need me to do anything?’

Now he frowned. ‘This ain’t a meeting, Sae. I’m just making conversation. I thought we could have a drink.’

‘So you’re not here to talk. To explain yourself.’

‘Explain myself -’

‘San Fran, Jack.’ She sat up, scowling. ‘You turned them down.’

Logan stared. ‘Is that a bad thing?’

‘You talked at AC about wanting something different, and this was the perfect job for you – teaching, handling young people. And you turned it down.’ Her voice was low, clipped in a way he recognised.

It was hard to not bristle at it in recollection. ‘I did. Is that what you want to talk about?’

‘Me?’ Kharth straightened. ‘I’m not the one with anything to say. I’m not the one with one foot out the door, jerking the other around, dangling on a string. What is this, what am I – some halfway house now?’

‘Sae -’

‘What, now you’re pissed that I’m pissed? Should I be grateful that you stayed? Except you don’t look happy about it, you’ve been grumpy about it, and I’m not going to give you a damn medal for indecision.’

He’d expected this. And still he threw his hands in the air. ‘Hell’s bells, Sae, can we have a conversation without you immediately painting me as the bad guy?’

‘I’m the bad guy -’

‘It makes you feel better,’ he spat. ‘Makes you feel in control. Except it’s self-sabotage, it’s you trying to hurt me, so any wedge between us is on your terms. What, so you push me away before I can leave you?’

She made a face, and he knew he’d hit home. ‘You’re the one with one foot out the door.’

‘I spoke about my future, and now I’m getting hammered for that – and I’m sick an’ tired of you taking chunks out of me every time you’re insecure!’ He shot to his feet, voice a low hiss, but in the quiet of the Round Table, the movement was enough to draw eyes.

There was another flash of anger in her gaze, but he’d expected her to either stand and retaliate, or lean back and let him rage. Instead, she hesitated. ‘Jack -’

‘Valance to senior staff. Report to your posts.’ The captain’s voice flooded the comms system, flushing away all personal bile and business. ‘We’re approaching the origin point of the energy pulse.’

When their eyes met as she stood, the hint of vulnerability was gone. Her jaw tightened as she turned away. ‘We’ll finish this later.’

‘Sure,’ said Logan through gritted teeth. ‘Can’t wait.’