The Agarath system was split in half by the asteroid belt. Beyond it lay the outer reaches, the mining and refining facilities that had been so particularly threatened by the Star Navy’s scouting operation; within it, the beating heart of the system’s life and wealth that was the shattered remains of the fourth planet, to which most industry and habitation clung.

But the belt was more than a barrier, Rourke thought, watching the drifting rocks as his captain’s yacht slid through the designated flight routes. For certain, a series of defensive platforms had been constructed here over the years – and some rather more frantically and recently, by his eye – making any assault on the core of the system rife with danger. But the belt boasted its own wealth, too, with mining infrastructure built into a series of asteroids. At its outer edges hung the small maintenance yard that had once housed the Star Navy’s garrison, bristling with a series of broken hulks and damaged vessels.

‘They can’t keep all these ships operational,’ Kharth said, her gaze not on the view through the canopy but the sensor feed at the Prydwen’s weapons station. ‘Repairing even a quarter of them looks like it’s beyond this maintenance yard. At least within any kind of reasonable time-frame.’

Rourke leaned over, checking the feed. ‘Something Cortez could help with?’

‘There are a million things in this system Isa could help with,’ she pointed out. ‘Are we defending these people? Are we fixing their industry? Improving their living conditions?’

‘One step at a time,’ said Hale softly from a seat at the rear of the cockpit. ‘For now, we make a good first impression. Then we demonstrate why a close relationship with the Federation is a key to a long future.’

Rourke glanced back at her, brow furrowing. ‘I didn’t know we were flying the recruitment flag on this mission of mercy.’

Her expression didn’t shift. ‘We’re always flying the recruitment flag, Captain. Isn’t that the purpose of the Federation?’

‘Liberty and peace, I thought. Not a shakedown.’

She shifted. ‘I didn’t think you needed to take me so literally. What I mean is that as a diplomat, I’m always putting the Federation’s best foot forward. Maybe it won’t bring Velorum closer to us – but the eyes of anyone even thinking about joining will be on us this week. Sometimes, the flag’s for them.’

‘I’m here to do whatever’s best for these people,’ Rourke said simply. ‘My orders didn’t include press-ganging them into a protectorate pact.’

‘I’m not press-ganging anyone. But my orders are not your orders, Captain,’ was Hale’s gentle but pointed response.

An awkward Kharth cleared her throat. ‘Are you sure bringing me along is good for making a positive first impression? I know this Commander Relekor is a Romulan, but Agarath is a primarily Reman population.’

‘You’re my Chief of Security,’ Rourke said flatly. ‘And I had just about enough of that from Valance.’ His XO had rather pointedly suggested she stay aboard Endeavour, and sounded like she intended on doing so, if possible, for the duration of the mission. Rourke had only agreed because for the moment he wanted to see the new governor of Agarath himself, and could have the argument later. But so far as he was concerned, old grievances between Romulans and Klingons were bad enough without bringing in the internal upsets of the fallen Star Empire.

Any further dispute was interrupted by Ensign Harkon at the helm, glancing back from her controls and saying, ‘We’re coming up on the Husk now.’

‘The Husk’ was what Relekor and their nav data alike now called the remains of Agarath IV. With the planet itself split apart, remains of the surface were strewn in a loose orbit of the sun, while other chunks were still caught in the gravitic pull of the core. The Empire had not merely splintered the world but built a magnetic containment field at the core so large stretches of its shattered remains, including perhaps a quarter of the crust, still hung together. It could not keep an atmosphere, it could not sustain life, but it could keep the hunks of rock with their valuable mineral deposits in one single clutch of shards.

It was to that shred of a surface, the only remnant of Agarath IV’s crust that still looked like it had once been part of a world, that the Prydwen headed, escorted by Relekor’s ship. Without an atmosphere to shroud their view, they could see the bright lights of the facilities on the surface shining. Most of it was a self-contained network of metal, though one stretch reached under a habitation dome that offered perhaps the only hint of greenery in the system.

Relekor’s ship hung in a high orbit as the Prydwen descended for the surface structures, Harkon following their flight route to bring them to a vast metal tower nestled on the rocky surface between the habitation dome and an extensive network of surface mines. It loomed higher than anything else on the Husk, and Rourke suspected this was intentional, if this was the seat of government on Agarath – that the only thing on the horizon of this broken world of labourers was the spear-tip of its rulers’ authority.

They landed in a dingy brown bay towards the top of the tower. A magnetic field sealed the Prydwen in, for beyond the metal structure was nothing but the cold vacuum, and Rourke made Harkon check twice that atmospheric containment was secure before he headed with Kharth and Hale to the landing ramp.

Relekor himself waited in the bay, accompanied by a pair of Romulans in similarly stripped-down naval uniforms. ‘Captain.’ The rangy commander bounded forward with clear delight, and looked like he had to consciously remember to extend a hand for a shake. ‘Let me be the first to welcome you to the Husk – and take you to Hiran.’

The heart of Agarath’s leadership was not an office, but a control centre. Taking up a whole floor of the tower, its wall-length windows granted a gut-dropping view of the expanse of surface miners, the habitation dome, and, above, the glinting lights of the facilities on other shattered remnants of this broken world. Most of the displays were non-functioning and the centre was staffed, to Rourke’s eyes, with a skeleton crew of primarily Remans.

In the centre was a chair, set high above to overlook all proceedings, but it was at the base of it, on a battered old storage locker, that a stooped-shouldered Reman sat. Rourke had no particular talent of gauging the age of the species, but there was a weariness to this man’s movements as he stood, belied by the sharpness of his eyes as they locked on the three Federation representatives.

‘So you’re the man who drove off the Star Navy, Captain Rourke.’ He stood and stepped towards them, closer to the shadowed edges of the control centre. ‘My name is Hiran. I’m in charge here now.’

As Hiran approached, Kharth leaned in to Rourke. ‘That’s a Reman Commando uniform,’ she breathed.

‘A lot of us,’ said Hiran in a slightly louder voice, ‘were military until Resak gave his call to arms. It became time to choose.’ His gaze flickered to Relekor. ‘A lot of us have been here for over a decade. Agarath is now more home than anywhere else in the galaxy. We had to decide if we’d break it for superiors who never cared for us.’

Rourke looked Hiran up and down. The husky Reman did indeed have a metal breastplate under the wrecked cloak wrapped around him, but it was battered and scuffed and, like Relekor’s uniform, bore no insignia. ‘Reports said Agarath had a significant permanent garrison. That’s all Guard, now?’

‘Not everyone agreed,’ Hiran rumbled. ‘Workers took action and many of us sided with them. But protection for the mines and refineries was from private security guards, not the military, and they fought. There was a moment it was unclear what the local task group would do.’ He glanced at Relekor again. ‘Then there was a change in command.’

Kharth looked to the other Romulan, and her eyebrow quirked. ‘You weren’t the commander. You were a Centurion.’

Relekor gave an easy shrug and an easier smile. ‘Times change. I’m a commander now, Hiran is the governor instead of a commando team leader – and you, Lieutenant, are Starfleet.’

‘I’m not the governor,’ Hiran said quickly. ‘The governor fled after the navy didn’t back him.’

Hale pursed her lips. ‘And other civilians?’

He shrugged. ‘Anyone who didn’t want to be part of an independent Agarath was allowed to leave, pack up their belongings and go. There was very little blood.’ His craggy face sank. ‘Yet.’

‘Your pledge to Resak’s provisional government included a warning that the Star Navy wouldn’t let Agarath go without a proper fight,’ said Rourke. ‘You think the force we just drove off doesn’t qualify?’

‘It is my hope,’ said Hiran, ‘that your USS Endeavour will be needed for little more than an assessment of our industry, our manpower, and support in streamlining our processes. We are prepared and happy to provide the Velorum Sector with the resources they need, but people will be paid fairly for their labour, and all of Agarath will benefit from the wealth our riches can bring in.’

‘A ship as impressive as Endeavour,’ said Relekor lightly, ‘is likely to make the Star Navy think twice. My flotilla is in need of significant repairs, refits, and maintenance – I don’t have the personnel to man them all, for starters. It’s one thing for Galae Command to pick a fight with that. Another entirely for them to pick a fight with a Starfleet battleship.’

‘She’s an explorer,’ Rourke said automatically. ‘The Star Navy was prepared to slaughter the Senate of Rator, to replace them with their puppets, and now bring every seceding system back under their control by force. I don’t think anything so conventional as old treaties or the firepower under my command will hold them back.’

‘From the perspective of Rator,’ said Hale, ‘Starfleet and the Federation are in violation of our treaties by getting involved. I’m sorry, Mister Hiran; our flag is of little protection.’

‘You’ll have to settle for our phasers,’ chipped in Kharth wryly.

‘We’ll need them,’ a voice at the door boomed.

They turned to see another Reman, younger and bigger than Hiran, dressed in the jumpsuit of a labourer and a tattered cloth mantle, stomping in through heavy security doors. At his waist was the gleaming utility belt of a Romulan naval officer, a disruptor holstered at his side, and he gripped a datapad.

Hiran lifted a hand with, Rourke thought, a hint of apprehension. ‘Captain, First Secretary – this is Foreman Korsk.’

‘Foreman no more,’ snapped Korsk. ‘The workers listen to me because I speak sense, which means most of the people of Agarath listen to me. And I hope you’re ready to get bloody for the people, Starfleet. Because it’s going to take more than our flotilla’s fine words to keep us safe.’ This was said with a faint sneer towards Relekor, who merely gave a genteel smile.

Rourke drew a slow breath as he absorbed the tensions between the three men. ‘We’re here to help with whatever your people want. If that means fighting for your freedom, then you have my ship.’

‘I asked Korsk,’ Hiran pressed on, ‘to deal with the naval frigate that was disabled in the fight.’

‘The frigate can become Relekor’s plaything,’ Korsk growled, brandishing the datapad. ‘I cared about the commander. It didn’t take him long to talk.’

Kharth tensed. ‘What did you do?’

It was as if he’d noticed her for the first time, and the Reman’s gaze became, if possible, more dismissive. ‘Asked him nicely, with pretty words, Starfleet.’

‘So, tortured. That’s not how we’re going to do things,’ Kharth pressed.

Gut twisting, Rourke lifted a hand to her and looked at Korsk. ‘I understand you’ve been fighting for your freedom. I’m not here to lecture you. But my officers, their training, and resources, can give you choices of a different way.’

Korsk didn’t look at him, eyes locked on Kharth. ‘When those nice choices give me answers in minutes, we’ll see.’ His eyes snapped back to Hiran, and there was at least more respect there. ‘He didn’t say much we didn’t guess. A scout force sent by Naval Command, instructed to assess our defences and, if possible, cause some chaos on our facilities in the outer planets. They know our zenite mines are particularly vulnerable. But the commander did give me access to the comms records. Eventually.’

Relekor rolled his eyes. ‘Have you tried not applying brute force to a problem, Korsk?’

‘I find directness works. Dance around all you please, Centurion. It won’t help us when your old masters are here.’

‘Korsk, Relekor.’ Hiran sounded tired. ‘Please, explain.’

With a curt nod, Korsk stomped to one of the control panels and plugged his datapad in. ‘There’s a lot to go through. He didn’t give me all the encryptions. But he gave me enough for this. Half of it’s that briefing, so I’ll skip to the good bit.’

At the jab of a button, the screen above the panel flickered to life to show a recorded message, and Rourke’s throat tightened like a vice as he saw the Romulan officer speaking.

‘At a minimum, commanders, bring me a full scan and assessment of the Agarath system’s defences. I will not embark on this campaign blindly. But be assured – Rator is committed to bringing the Velorum Sector to heel, and to bringing Agarath back under our control. Six days, commanders, and the task group will be assembled. From there we proceed to this nest of upstarts and not merely restore order – we set an example. The Empire stands. Forever.’

Korsk’s lip curled. ‘Based on when this was sent, based on indicated rendezvous points, preparation time, travel time, I say we’ve got a full-scale strike force busting in on us in, oh -’

‘Seven days,’ said Relekor. Somehow his airy smile had not faded.

Korsk nodded, and unplugged the datapad to toss it to Kharth. ‘Set your smartest to decrypt the rest, Starfleet. Might be you can give us an inkling of what we’re up against. So we know just how bad it’s going to be.’

But Hiran was watching Rourke, and when he spoke his voice was soft. ‘You know that officer.’

Rourke swallowed. ‘I know him,’ he agreed.

It was Hale who spoke, and though all she did was lean in, he could feel her presence extend towards him. He did not know if it was reassuring, or like blowing cold air on his skin when already his fight-or-flight instincts were prickling. ‘We’ve crossed paths with Commander Lotharn of the Star Navy before. And he knows us.’

Korsk scoffed anew. ‘Glad Agarath can be the little reunion.’

Relekor winced. ‘If we have all of a week until a strike force comes to kill us all,’ he said, ‘then the flotilla will need repairing, the outer defences restoring…’

‘We will need a thousand things doing,’ Hiran agreed, ‘and will have the time to do maybe a hundred.’ He sighed and looked at Korsk. ‘We will need the lady Zaviss’s help.’

A scowl. ‘We cannot trust her.’

‘We need her influence over the people. We need her guards.’ Hiran turned back to the Federation representatives. ‘I’m sorry. This is about to be more than we expected.’

The prickling sense on the back of Rourke’s neck was easing, but he could feel both Hale and Kharth look at him. So he did what he normally did when his back was up against the wall and there was nothing clever to do: smirk, and say something pithy.

‘It normally is.’