One of Shepherd’s first acts aboard as XO had been, in Kharth’s opinion, a gross overreach.

‘I’m asking to ride shotgun on some shifts and training, Commander,’ Shep had said in bemusement at the resistance. ‘Not take over the department.’

‘What this department doesn’t need, Commander, is micromanaging.’ Kharth had clasped her hands behind her back, intent on her body language demonstrating all due deference while in the XO’s office so nobody could pin anything against her, but she’d fixed a stern look on her opponent.

‘Not what I meant.’ Shep had raised her hands in unanticipated capitulation. ‘I want to see how different departments work. And for security, that means if we gotta go in the field together, I want to make sure I’m not getting in your guys’ way.’

‘So you want to be in our way now?’ Zihan Shepherd was a spy sent by Jericho, the man who’d turned this ship upside down, so far as Kharth was concerned. Reasonable arguments were a mask for something else.

Yet again, Shep had sighed and leaned back in her office chair, and yet again looked like she wouldn’t push this. ‘Okay, Commander. What will it take for you to be happy with me learning the ropes in your department? You can put me through drills, treat me like a green rookie, take the measure of me first until you’re happy, whatever you got.’

Kharth had hesitated. Resistance was one thing. Total obstruction was another. At length, she’d nodded. ‘Very well. Drill you like a rookie it is. Until I’m satisfied.’

‘On one condition.’ Shep had raised a finger. ‘We get a drink together after.’

Kharth’s eyes had narrowed. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m not the enemy and I want you to see that.’

Weeks later, Kharth had stood on Endeavour’s bridge and watched as Fleet Captain Jericho ordered Romulan people to be left to the mercies of a wild frontier, watched as Captain Rourke nodded and took it, and watched as Commander Shepherd squirmed and defended it.

And still she met her for springball later.

‘It’s not about leaving the people of Navinor alone,’ Shep huffed as she hammered the ball with her racket. ‘It’s about -’ Swing, ‘- not over-extending ourselves!’

Kharth tried to let her volley speak for itself, but Shep smacked the ball right back, and she was too slow to meet it. ‘It’s about,’ Kharth said through gritted teeth as she went to get the ball, ‘taking out people Starfleet deems an enemy without trying to help anyone else.’

‘These communities have to be self-sufficient. We’re doing them a disservice otherwise.’

‘So why didn’t Jericho let us broker something between Navinor and Nerillian? Help build a network of independent Romulan refuge worlds, let them form a cooperative of mutual protection and trade?’ Kharth bounced the ball on the floor.

‘That’d take time,’ Shep pointed out. ‘And we’ve got Mo’Kai to hunt.’

‘We leave the Nighthawk behind all the time to tie up loose ends. Leave Hale aboard and let her do her thing.’ Shep didn’t answer that, and Kharth squared up to serve. ‘But Jericho won’t, because it’s not about resource allocation or threat priority or anything like that. He doesn’t want a cooperative of Romulan refuge worlds to form. He wants to keep everyone scattered and weak so they don’t become a possible threat.’

Her serve hammered into the wall, rebounding so fast that even though Shep sprang to meet it, she was too slow. Sagging at the point lost, Shep huffed, went to get the ball, and did not immediately answer.

Kharth knew any response would ultimately be to defend Jericho. This argument was helping her blow off steam, but it wouldn’t achieve anything else. ‘Whatever. We’re moving on. Makes it easier for you to put that party together next week.’

It was Shep’s turn to take a moment bouncing the ball, watching her through narrowed eyes. ‘Yeah, I mean – you might even unwind a bit there, K.’ At the sharp look, she raised a hand. ‘Not saying you’re wrong to be tense! But chilling out some when times are hard isn’t betrayal, it’s survival.’

‘I know how to party,’ said Kharth defensively.

‘Uh huh.’ Another bounce of the ball. ‘There’ll be drinks. Music. Dancing. Maybe you can dance with someone. What about Airex?’

Kharth stared. ‘What about Airex?’

‘He’s cute. He likes you.’

‘Shep -’

‘He was super antsy about if you were okay when we got back this morning. C’mon, K, unwrap that package of nerdy reserve, who knows what you’ll find?’

You have no idea. Kharth drew a sharp breath, and decided now was not the time to tell the long and complicated history between her and Davir Airex. ‘Just serve the damn ball, Shep.’

‘What’s the worst that -’

‘Rourke to Shepherd.’

‘Saved by the bell.’ Shep gave a wicked grin and tapped her combadge. ‘Shep here, Cap.’

‘Join me in transporter room 2. We’ve got a new staffer beaming aboard and this is a “best behaviour” situation.’

‘So you want me?’ Shep seemed to realise the tone didn’t carry her jest as well as her grin and pressed on with a hint of sobriety. ‘I’m working out with Kharth but I’ll hit the showers and be right down.’

‘Might as well bring her with you. Rourke out.’

‘New staffer?’ said Kharth once they were in the changing rooms, freshly showered and pulling on uniforms in a hurry. ‘Are we replacing Adupon already?’

‘Hey, he’s only acting Ops but cut the kid some slack.’

‘He hyperventilates when I look at him.’

‘Take it as a compliment of your mad intimidation skills.’ Shep fastened her jacket and tidied her pips. ‘I’ve got no idea who this could be. They must be coming up on courier transport and not even docking.’

‘Sounds important. So probably not a new pilot, either.’

‘Don’t tell me you don’t like Whitaker, either.’ Shep shook her head as they headed briskly out the gym, into the corridors and towards the turbolift.

‘Whitaker’s fine, he’s about as cocky as any dumb pilot -’

‘Hey!’

‘- but there’s no way the captain would replace anyone else on the senior staff without us hearing about it, and this isn’t worth the fuss of a new helmsman.’

The turbolift awaited them, and the two women exchanged looks as they stepped inside. ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ said Shep.

Despite herself, Kharth gave a stiff nod. ‘Intel.’

Rourke was waiting for them in the transporter room when they arrived, hands clasped behind his back, still the big ball of tension he’d been for the last weeks. ‘Commanders. Good for you both to be here.’

‘What’re we getting?’ asked Shep in a bright, cheery voice. ‘Spec Ops? Internal affairs?’

Rourke shook his head. ‘You should like this.’

Kharth wasn’t sure if he was kidding, either discreetly or openly, but he nodded to Chief Zharek. She reached for the transporter controls and the blossoming beam of silver-blue shimmered to life on the pad, a figure coalescing as it faded.

He was a tall, broad Bajoran man in his late thirties, wearing a red duty uniform and a commander’s pips. Dark hair a little longer than most officers styled it was swept back to stay out of his face, and a neatly-trimmed beard emphasised a strong jawline and sharp features. Bright, piercing eyes locked onto Rourke the moment he took in his surroundings, and with the deliberation of coiled springs, he descended the steps. ‘Commander Harrian Calder reporting aboard, Captain.’

Rourke let out a slow, soft breath. ‘Welcome aboard, Commander. It’s been a while, Cal.’

The Bajoran’s expression twitched. ‘I see you were notified. I’ve orders from Fleet Captain Jericho to assume the post of squadron strategic operations officer.’

This did indeed not look like news to Rourke. He took a step back to extend a hand to the two women. ‘Let me introduce my XO, Commander Shepherd, and Chief of Security Commander Kharth.’

‘Commanders.’ Harrian’s nod was crisp, but his gaze at once returned to Rourke. ‘To make it plain, I’m not here under the ship’s chain of command, but the squadron’s.’

Kharth glanced between them, and with Shep looking equally nonplussed, decided to jump on the issue. ‘But running strat ops from here, not from the Triumph?’

‘Endeavour’s Strategic Operations Centre makes being here the sensible choice. This ship has greater logistical capacity than the Triumph, so I can analyse the big picture and make appropriate reports to Captain Jericho.’

‘You mean,’ Rourke said softly, ‘you can look over my shoulder and speak with his voice.’

Harrian’s eyes locked on him. ‘It was made clear that I’m to be his representative aboard, yes.’

‘Is that necessary, Cal -’

‘I’d prefer Commander Harrian, sir. I’m not your second officer any more. We aren’t comrades-in-arms any more. Too much blood for that.’

‘Blood,’ Rourke said, softness turning to a rumbling frustration Kharth recognised, ‘that was not on my hands -’

‘The inquiry might not have found you professionally responsible for what happened on the Firebrand, sir, but I don’t need that level of legal culpability to not want us to be friends any more.’ The broad shoulders of Commander Harrian squared. ‘I’m here to do my duty to the squadron. Thank you for welcoming me, Captain. I’d like a day to get squared away and then we can talk about how this will work.’

Rourke, on the other hand, had deflated. He gave a quick jerk of the hand towards Shep and Kharth. ‘Commanders, can you get Mister Harrian settled?’

‘Sure, Captain,’ said the slightly lost-looking Shep, but before either of them could figure out how to publicly ask more questions, Rourke had left the transporter room, leaving them alone with Commander Harrian.

Who at once sighed and rubbed his temples. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quickly. ‘That wasn’t how I wanted that to go, and not in public, and not with fellow officers.’

Kharth drew a cautious breath. ‘You knew the captain from the Firebrand?’ At Harrian’s nod, she also sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’

Shep looked between them. ‘Someone’s gotta fill me in.’

‘Officers died,’ said Harrian, a little crisply. ‘There was an inquiry. Rourke was cleared of wrongdoing but the crew was disbanded. I think he taught at the Academy for a few years after that. I was his second officer, and it was a Prophets-damned mess.’

‘It was still hanging over him when he came aboard Endeavour,’ said Kharth. ‘Two years ago.’

Harrian worked his jaw, then said, ‘You know what? It should. I’m sorry again, I’m not here to unload on you both, and we’re all professionals. I have my orders from Fleet Captain Jericho, and they’re to work aboard Endeavour, represent squadron interests, and provide strategic analysis and advice to the whole unit. Rourke and I don’t need to be friends for that to happen.’

‘You’re right,’ said Shep, brightening a little. ‘But I hope we can make your time aboard nice anyway. Let’s show you to the SOC, your new home away from home, but then we’ll get you to the Round Table.’

Harrian slung his carry-all over his shoulder and followed as she ushered him to the door. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s the bar. Our XO is immediately taking you to the bar,’ Kharth drawled.

‘The bar where only department heads can go,’ Shep said, sweeping her hand like it was a magical place. ‘And junior officers can’t bother you.’

‘I’m Strat Ops, Commander,’ Harrian said lightly. ‘Junior officers think I’m boring or important.’

‘Yeah, on that.’ Kharth stopped as they reached turbolift doors and turned to him. ‘What do you think our strategic priority should be out here?’

Harrian’s eyebrows raised. ‘That’s such a huge and yet specific question I think you’re asking me something hidden.’

Shep grimaced. ‘It’s fine, K.’

‘I mean,’ Kharth pressed, ‘are we here to protect Federation borders, or are we here to help Romulan refugees the galaxy left to fend for itself for too long?’

Now he frowned, and spoke after only a moment’s consideration. ‘The United Federation of Planets has to remain safe and secure if it’s to meet its constitutional mandates of making the lives of its citizens better.’

‘At the expense of -’

‘- but it is unacceptable for that peace and prosperity to be bought through the suffering of others. Especially others whose condition we played a part in causing with our betrayal of the Romulan people fifteen years ago,’ Harrian pressed on more firmly.

Shep raised her hands. ‘Nobody’s abandoning anyone in this squadron. But we can’t save everyone at once.’

‘We can save anyone in front of us,’ Harrian said simply, looking at her. ‘Without helping the Romulan people, we have no right to ever fight for morality in the galaxy again. We stopped helping them out of political convenience, out of cowardice, instead of standing up to fight for what was right. The Romulan diaspora can’t be our scapegoat, or our child in Omelas. How did the human philosopher James put it? Millions kept happy on the condition of one lost soul on the far-off edge of things leading a lonely life of torture?’

‘Nobody’s happy and safe in the Federation because of Romulan suffering,’ Shep argued.

‘A good many people in Starfleet think Federation citizens are happy and safe because we don’t relieve Romulan suffering,’ Harrian countered with an amiable confidence, but then he looked at Kharth. ‘I came of age in the shadow of the Bajoran Occupation, Commander Kharth. If Starfleet hadn’t spent resources and political capital to help those outside its borders, those it owed nothing to, I wouldn’t be here. And I do my best to keep my professional analysis and advice free of hypocrisy.’ The turbolift doors slid open, and his expression brightened. ‘Let’s start with that SOC, hey?’

He stepped into the turbolift, and Kharth found herself, again rather against her will, exchanging a glance with Shep. She didn’t know what it meant that clearly neither of them were particularly happy about the words and behaviour of the newest arrival, a figure spouting principles one moment and spitting venom at Matt Rourke another. The boat was already rocking, and it looked like Commander Harrian Cal had the means of giving it another good, hard shove.