The flickering lights along the valley walls had increased as the day went on, sporadic in the morning and rising to a peak by noon. They’d even managed to spot one of the spotters as they stepped up onto the actual ridge and silhouette themselves against the clear blue sky. While they hadn’t managed to notice much through the binoculars they had with them, they could easily make out the long rifle the individual was carrying and the scope on it.

“We’re well out of range,” Deidrick had confidently stated upon that revelation. “Likely a hunter, but that scope would be good for tracking us.”

“So we’re being hunted,” Trid concluded.

“I wouldn’t say that. More like scouted.” Deidrick turned with a faint smile. “If we were being hunted, they wouldn’t be letting us see those heliographs.”

“If we were being scouted properly,” Orelia weighed in, “they wouldn’t let us see them either.”

“They want us to know they’re there and watching,” Sidda added. “And they’ll be waiting for us when we get to Gavalore’s homestead.”

“Is this another one of your ‘it’s not a trap if you know it’s a trap’ moments, boss?” R’tin asked.

That had been around noon and they’d continued travelling throughout the afternoon with minimal conversation, stopping only a few times as needs required. Directions were followed, the map consulted and Sherriff Jacob’s three-day estimate was ruled a vast over-estimation. “If we keep going at this rate, we could be there before nightfall,” Trid concluded.

And so they had, the enthusiasm to get to their destination and resolve this particular problem clear. But as mid-afternoon arrived a beeping emitted from Orelia’s travel pack. A harsh, dissonant and rather insistent beeping designed to get the attention of anyone nearby. “They shouldn’t be calling us,” Orelia explained as she brought her horse to a halt and dismounted.

“What?” Sidda asked.

“Klingons have communication gear for situations like this,” the taller Orion explained as she fished a Klingon device from one of the travel packs. It was a reasonably large device, taking up most of one of the saddle bags. “It’s a laser comm that’ll talk with the Rose in orbit.”

“Magnesite messes with subspace and radio comms, but lasers…clever.” R’tin was off his horse as well and giving Orelia a hand in setting the device up which involved setting it flat on the ground and unfolding it so the transceiver head could scan the sky.

“But long-wavelength radio can kind of get through magnesite interference. Not great, but enough to basically say ‘hey stupid’ and get someone on the ground to open up their comms gear,” Orelia continued as she ultimately stepped back and let R’tin take over the process. “Figured we might need it, didn’t figure Gaeda would need to talk to us.”

The comms were audio only and relayed from Landing to them via the Rose in orbit, but good enough for Gaeda to update them on the situation in town and what was unfolding in the galaxy at large right now. No one spoke, dared to break the solemn silence that had settled over them upon hearing of a Borg attack in Landing, or across the Federation as a whole.

The youth of Starfleet weaponised against the Federation. Whole fleets laying siege to Earth, individual ships attacking shipping wherever they could, and the Federation President ordering everyone to save themselves. It was like a bad dream.

It couldn’t be real.

“I’m sending a shuttle to pick you up,” Gaeda said after finishing his update.

“No,” Sidda countermanded. “I’m finishing this. We’re only a few hours away now.”

“Boss,” Gaeda pleaded. “This isn’t the time.”

“We’re days away from anywhere important at warp,” Sidda said. “A few more hours to let me finish this isn’t going to change the larger picture.”

“It’ll change how many we could save.” Gaeda was appealing to Sidda’s better nature and it almost worked.

“I’ll call as soon as we’re done down here. Then you can send a shuttle to pick us up. Get the ship ready for best possible speed to Kyban.”

There was quiet on the other end before Gaeda conceded the point. “Aye ma’am. Ruiz out.”

“Ma’am,” Tavol, acting as the middle man aboard the Rose, cut into the channel as Gaeda closed his end. “I have Ms Riven here wanting a word with you.”

“You’re in trouble now,” R’tin joked before offering a weak apology at Orelia’s glare at him.

“Sidda,” Riven’s voice came through, much clearer than Gaeda’s had. “I’m worried.” She actually sounded it. Her casual confidence, her usually flirtatious and cheery attitude was gone.

“I know.” Sidda herself was worried. What were they to do in the face of a Starfleet attacking itself? Run and hide? Cross the border into the Republic or the Empire and hope for the best? Stand and fight until sanity prevailed?

“Come back to me,” Riven said. “Soon.”

“I will.”

“I love you,” Riven said after a brief moment.

It was enough to bring Sidda to a pause. They’d confessed their love to each other numerous times. It was on public display all of the time. But they’d never said those exact words to each other with others present. There would be numerous people on the bridge of the Rose who heard that. And the away team with Sidda as well. Saying it out loud for others to hear was just something they hadn’t done.

“I love you too,” Sidda finally replied. “I’ll be home soon.”

There was quiet over the comm line for a moment, and then Riven spoke once more. “The hat is stupid,” she said. “I love it.” And with that there was a click as the channel was closed, the communications device confirming the ship was no longer transmitting.

“She insults my hat and then hangs up on me,” Sidda protested as she stepped away from the device to let R’tin go about packing it away. “Hangs up on me!”

“Oh good,” Deidrick scoffed. “I was concerned we would be going into this stand-off with our serious faces on. Now we’ll be complaining about how your fiancé insulted your ill-gotten hat and hung up on you.”

And for Deidrick’s well-being, it was good that Sidda hadn’t learned to kill with just a look.

Yet.