‘Oh, wow.’ Ensign Kallavasu’s eyes lit up as the knot of five young officers entered the Foxglove bar. ‘This is way nicer than I was expecting on a station.’

Even Doctor Winters gave her a sidelong glance and asked, kindly, ‘Did you not see the venues at Bravo?’

‘No, silly. We had to ship out, like, immediately, remember?’ The diminutive Ithenite elbowed him in the hip. ‘We stopped off at SB-147 on my midshipman tour, but -’

‘Ah,’ said the other four in near-unison, and Kally looked confused until Harkon said, indulgently, ‘147 is a dump. This might be a frontier station, but there are about twenty thousand people aboard. You need more than the one replimat.’

‘I wouldn’t relax,’ Beckett grumbled. ‘This isn’t going to be a fun time.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked across the cocktail bar, with its wood-panelled walls, brassy and gold-hued fixtures, and gentle lighting keeping everything warm, intimate. A quartet on the elevated stage, central enough to earn attention but not obtrusive enough to be the main event, played jazz at a volume to colour the bar, not overwhelm it.

‘I thought you’d be happier,’ Thawn said suspiciously.

‘We all pile off-ship the moment we get here, then a day later Valance asks us to meet her in a social venue? That doesn’t strike anyone as weird?’

‘We’ve been through a lot,’ Winters pointed out. ‘Maybe she wants us to relax a little?’

‘Valance,’ Beckett repeated. ‘No way this isn’t bad news.’

‘It could be about anything,’ said Thawn, rolling her eyes. ‘There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there.’ Without giving him a chance to protest further, she stepped deeper into Foxglove. It was early evening in station time, so the bar was only just beginning to fill up. If Starfleet officers were here, they’d swapped their uniforms for smarter civilian wear, and she could sense the atmosphere of relief, of letting loose. This was a place to peel off the layers of professionalism, and even if Foxglove was a venue for sharp shirts and cocktail dresses, that transformation was its own kind of relaxation, a chance to be someone other than a hard-working officer. Whether that meant anything about what lay ahead or if Valance had just picked one of Gateway Station’s nicer venues, Thawn wasn’t sure.

They found the commander at the head of the table in one of the long booths deeper into Foxglove. Dashell, Riggs, and Gov’taj were already there, the Klingon highly obtrusive in his culture’s interpretation of the dress code: shining, likely ceremonial garb adorned with snapshots of metal armour. If he knew he was pushing the boundaries, he looked, if anything, like he was enjoying it.

But while Valance had slid into a black suit and white shirt with a high, open collar, the tension radiating off her made her stand out more to Thawn’s senses than Gov’taj. She extended a hand down the table, half-standing as she ushered her crew to sit. ‘Thank you for coming. Please, get comfortable.’

Being told by your captain to relax was the last way to do so, in Thawn’s experience, but the Pathfinder crew still sat, ordered drinks, and made small talk around their CO as they settled. Beckett gave her a pointed look as he slid into the seat across from her, and she kicked him in the shins.

Only once drinks had reached the table and Valance had a martini glass in her hand did she make a sound, clearing her throat. That small noise was enough to make everyone shut up – even Kally stopped debating the quality of colours of various cocktails – and stare at her in gentle anticipation.

Valance grimaced. ‘Thank you for coming. I thought this conversation would be best held in a relaxed venue.’

‘Yeah,’ Beckett muttered. ‘Real relaxed.’ Thawn kicked him again.

If she heard him, Valance didn’t let on. ‘I want to thank you for how hard you worked this past month. Command only has good things to say about how Pathfinder and her crew comported themselves in the Deneb campaign.’

‘It helps that we arrived too late to really screw up,’ Harkon said chirpily.

‘It should come as no surprise,’ Valance pushed on, ‘that there are going to be major changes to the squadron after Izar.’ Thawn tried to not look at Beckett as he shot her his best I told you so glance, but it was difficult to not feel his pointed gaze on her. ‘Pathfinder’s mission into old Romulan territories has been cancelled. She’s been earmarked for a deep space assignment beyond the Typhon Frontier.’

A rumble of protest fell across the table, with Beckett’s voice among the loudest. Thawn noted the lack of surprise on Dashell’s face and found the news effectively bounce off her with a dull thunk. Deep space. Far from anyone or everyone. Once, she’d have hated it, but now there was something gently alluring.

Was it the call of the void? Or was it just further to run away?

Then Valance cleared her throat, silencing them long enough for her to say, ‘And I’m no longer her commanding officer,’ and that brought out a new knot of protests.

‘You saved the Izar campaign,’ Thawn protested. ‘Then you commanded Endeavour at Farpoint, and we would have lost a lot more ships if we hadn’t been there – and who else was going to…’ She didn’t know if it was whatever she felt off Valance or her own instincts putting two and two together, but she fell silent and sat up. ‘Oh. Really?’

‘Really what?’ Beckett pushed. ‘Really, we’re just leaving the whole Vorkasi situation behind, we’re doing absolutely nothing about…’ But his voice trailed off, realising something was up.

Valance drew a deep breath. ‘I have been assigned,’ she said gently, ‘as commanding officer of the USS Endeavour. Whoever is the new captain of the Pathfinder will want to select their own crew for their mission. And I wanted you all here because I want to offer you all assignments on Endeavour or here, on Gateway.’ She glanced to her right. ‘Commander Dashell has already accepted a posting as the station’s Chief Science Officer.’

Beckett’s expression had soured. ‘So it’s station life for all of us because Endeavour has a full roster.’

‘There’ll be some rearrangement,’ Valance said firmly. ‘Thawn, Winters, if you accept, I’d like to bring you onto Endeavour as Ops and Medical, respectively.’

It was like icy fingers had clawed around Thawn’s chest and neck. ‘You want – you want me back aboard Endeavour?’ she stumbled.

Valance was never the most expressive of people, but her surprise at this reaction was clear. ‘You were excellent at Farpoint, Lieutenant. Commander Far will do well here on Gateway.’

‘Yeah.’ Beckett took a surly swig of his Old Fashioned. ‘You’re excellent on Endeavour, Thawn. But you just need a little chat with your husband first, right?’

The icy fingers became a furious fist in her throat, and she rounded on him. ‘That is none of your business -’

He half-ignored her, even as everyone else leaned back awkwardly, and turned to Valance. ‘So I guess with Commander Dashell staying here and Commander Airex going nowhere, I become a glorified lab tech on Gateway, huh?’

Valance now looked a little guilty. ‘I expect Endeavour will resume a lot of the work Pathfinder’s leaving off; I’d want a place for you aboard my ship, Lieutenant…’

He shoved his seat back and stood. ‘Nah. Don’t do me any favours, Commander. Throw me to the wolves of Personnel, I’ll be fine.’ But he clearly couldn’t resist giving Thawn one last resentful look. ‘Maybe you can get that honeymoon after all.’

Thawn cringed as he stormed off but still put her glass down and stood. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said to everyone in a rush. ‘I – of course I’ll come back to Endeavour, Commander – if you’ll excuse me…’

She didn’t know why she accepted the offer. But she didn’t know why she followed Beckett, either, the crowds of Foxglove so thick that they were both out into the arcade before she reached him. ‘Nate!’

He stopped, the early evening crowd rushing around him like a parting stream. Lighting aboard had changed to evoke local time. By day the arcade was brightly-lit, but it was dimmer now, illumination coming from shop and bar fronts and their more colourful signs. Cosy hues of reds and purples fell across them both as they stood before Foxglove.

Though his chest was heaving with emotion, his voice was low and hollow as he turned back to her. ‘I was an idiot to stay on Pathfinder, wasn’t I?’

That defeat wasn’t enough to diffuse her anger, and she stormed up to him. ‘Oh, no. You don’t get to make a scene in public and then play kicked puppy.’

He rocked back like her approach came with a push, his air still painfully dolorous. ‘You didn’t have to come out here. You can go make plans on your loving reunion with Rhade.’

‘Oh – Great Fire, Nate.’ She clutched at her hair. ‘Did you hear Valance? She wants you aboard. Endeavour’s a great assignment, you can keep doing the work you’re doing, and are you really going to throw away another career opportunity to spite me?’

‘Spite you?’ While he still looked crestfallen, indignation had at least crept in. ‘When have any of my choices been about spiting you?’

She jerked a thumb back at the Foxglove. ‘Just now, in there!’ Passers-by were starting to avoid them, looking for all the world like a couple whose date had gone very wrong, very fast. But anger tasted too much like guilt, and her hand dropped by her side. ‘I thought we were friends.’

‘I thought,’ Beckett said with quiet resentment, ‘we just found new ways of fooling ourselves.’

They’d come into the bar bickering and bantering like they always did, jumping on each other’s words like they hated each other. But it had always been fun, a duel of wits or, in its own way, a dance. Sparks flew, and both of them shoved their hands as close as they dared while trying not to get burnt.

Thawn swallowed. ‘Maybe I do have conversations to have with Adamant,’ she said, voice thick. ‘But I still don’t know what you want from me, Nate. And until you explain that, I don’t think I owe your snapping, your resentment, your jealousy, a damned thing.’

I know damn well you’ve no interest in me wrecking my life for you, she’d yelled at him, months ago in the Delta Quadrant. That sounds a little bit too much like commitment for Nathaniel Beckett.

He did not stop her as she left. And thus she became another sad girl in Gateway’s arcade of an evening. She took to the upper levels, stared at the starscape through the tall windows, and only after a while of standing, brooding alone, did she realise she should probably go back and apologise to Valance.

When she returned to the Foxglove, most of her Pathfinder colleagues were gone. Only Valance remained, but another familiar figure was sat with her, looking like she’d hurriedly thrown on something appropriate. Thawn padded up to the table awkwardly. ‘Sorry, am I interrupting, Commander, Elsa?’

Elsa Lindgren looked a little wrong-footed but leaned away from the intense conversation. ‘Rosara! Uh, no, actually. I was just…’ She glanced at Valance. ‘I don’t mind Rosara being here.’

It looked like the conversation had not really started. Valance gestured for Thawn to sit, though she chose a chair several places down. ‘Go on, Lieutenant.’

Lindgren drew a deep breath. ‘I know personnel changes are coming on Endeavour. I know you need a new XO, for instance. And I know you’re looking to fill some gaps with your officers on Pathfinder. But I wanted to talk to you about, well. Me.’

Valance frowned. ‘I have no intention of replacing you at Comms, Lieutenant.’

‘That’s just it,’ Lindgren said and winced. ‘I’d like you to.’

Thawn couldn’t stop herself from bursting, ‘You want to leave Endeavour?’

‘No,’ Lindgren said quickly. She glanced back to Valance. ‘I just want more, Commander. I joined Starfleet to be a captain. And I love my work in Communications, but it’s not a position with a tremendous amount of upwards mobility. I want more responsibility.’

Valance let out a slow, thoughtful breath. ‘You’re an asset on the bridge, Lieutenant. If you hadn’t stepped up to take the helm when Whitaker was injured at Farpoint, we’d have been in worse shape. I’d forgotten you trained as a pilot.’

‘Because I want to be a captain,’ Lindgren said. ‘I just didn’t want to leave the Academy and fly shuttles.’

The commander’s expression cleared. ‘But now you want Flight Control. A position with larger departmental responsibilities, more involvement in operational planning, and more chances of important away missions.’

‘And you have a good comms officer already in Ensign Kallavasu,’ Lindgren said with a light smile. ‘And I know Whitaker wants to fly fighters here on Gateway.’

‘He might be fighting with Harkon over that,’ Valance sighed. ‘But yes. If you wish, Lieutenant. You’d make a fine Helm Officer.’

Lindgren brightened. ‘And I look cuter in the red,’ she said with a gentle laugh. Then she pushed back from the table. ‘I’m sorry, Rosara, you’d just come back…’

Thawn hesitated. It had been a while since she and Elsa had talked much, but no doubt this whole situation would get dissected over coffee later. But how to deflect that discussion was a problem for the future. She looked to Valance. ‘I’m sorry for that scene, Commander. That was inappropriate.’

Valance just shook her head with a confused air. ‘I know I’ve dropped a huge disruption on everyone’s lives. I should have been ready for some pushback. I didn’t expect it from Beckett.’

Thawn tried to ignore Lindgren’s expression of a penny dropping. I can’t speak for him. But of course, I’ll return to Endeavour. If that’s what you want.’

Lindgren grinned, and gave her a cheerful, gentle elbowing. Valance smiled. And Thawn forced herself to smile back, to relax, and to act like everything was fine. Because the alternative was to meet the same challenge she’d given Beckett, and she didn’t think she was any closer to figuring out what, on any ship or under any sun, it was she actually wanted.