‘There’s no such thing as using it safely.’

‘Okay, but safer has gotta be possible, right? I’m not talking certainties, I’m talking percentages.’

‘Those are percentages where people die.’

Beckett stared at the holographic display of the SOC, the map of the Midgard Sector spilling out before him, and tried to block out the sound of Cortez and Logan arguing. But when he reached up to open the newest report from the USS Ranger, the ping! of the system was a lot louder than he’d intended.

That, at least, shut them up. Logan folded his arms across his chest and looked from the display to Cortez. ‘We’re interrupting the kid’s work.’

‘No,’ said Beckett weakly. ‘I do my best analysis with a raging argument with no end going on around me.’

Cortez sighed and rubbed her temples. ‘Sorry. We keep going in circles. I hear you, Logan, I do – damn, you think nearly getting Borged on that wreck didn’t make it clear as day you can’t screw around with this stuff? But we’ve got a mission that’s come down from squadron command, and operational policies that come from even higher, and both say that we gotta use the AIP.’

Logan turned back to the display. Beckett wasn’t sure if it was the cool lighting of the star map or the rigours of the last week, but he looked more gaunt, his cheeks more hollow. ‘I know,’ he sighed at last. ‘I’d just sooner we shot the thing into space.’

‘An’ if wishes were horses, the Borg would be galloping themselves into every sun.’ Cortez shrugged. ‘If you and I are gonna work together, which we should, then looks like we need some ground rules. So how about this: I’ll listen to your warnings, so long as you accept the premise that we will be poking the Borg?’

Beckett felt they’d been here before, perhaps an hour ago. Then discussions of the intricacies had led to one or both feeling challenged and retreating to their entrenched positions. He sighed, sweeping the Ranger’s report to one side and reaching to bring up the next files. ‘Assuming we’re about to work and not just argue,’ he said carefully, ‘I have the latest reports from Fourth Fleet Intelligence on emerging encounters with Borg technology.’

They read in silence. Eventually, Logan looked at Cortez. ‘That thing ain’t giving off a signal, is it?’

‘I shut that the hell down,’ Cortez said grimly. ‘No transponder for them to beam to here. God, this is awful. I do hear you, Logan – I get why you hate this stuff.’ As he shifted, she sighed. ‘Okay, maybe I don’t get it, get it. But I hear you. But… Starfleet policy says otherwise. We baked Borg tech into the Sagan, and we’re gonna keep doing things like that. And right now, we need to use their stuff against them.’

‘Right now, we need to act like we’re morally superior to the Romulan Republic and can be trusted with this stuff while they can’t.’ Logan rubbed his temples. ‘Okay. Obviously, when we get to the signal, we detach any node from any other systems. Ideally at range, with a tractor beam or…’

‘Or a worker bee,’ Cortez mused.

‘Right. Secondly, we gotta work on some sort of shutdown protocol for the AIP.’

‘We can integrate something I can activate to kill its power source. Independent of its other operations, I mean.’

‘Sure, but the hard part is if something like last time happens, it might start to draw from the power source of the system it’s connected to,’ said Logan. ‘Even if you’d pulled the AIP last time, that wouldn’t have stopped what happened.’

She nodded and turned to Beckett. ‘Can you send me these reports? We should get to work down in the lab.’

‘I’ll fling them over,’ Beckett said lightly, relieved at the prospect of the two unhappy officers moving on. As they left, he set about packaging the relevant files together, finally alone in the SOC to focus on his work. The past few days had consisted of getting settled; it had been some months since he’d seriously worked in the facilities. While Shepherd handled most of the liaising with the rest of the squadron, there was a galaxy of Borg activity out there and more rumbles from the various surveillance infrastructures of the Midgard Sector.

They were less than an hour out from entering the Mesea Storm, which would invariably disrupt their communications, so Beckett nearly jumped when the system flashed up with an incoming external call. It was uncommon enough for any such comms to be rerouted directly to him at the SOC, and he hadn’t thought he was a priority at the moment anyway.

His throat tightened as he read the specifics. Inbound from the USS Swiftsure. At the highest level of security he held. Beckett swallowed, then reached to accept the call. ‘Captain Faust?’

It was, indeed, the Swiftsure’s CO and squadron deputy commander. They had never met, Faust joining the squadron just as Beckett had left for the Synnef Nebula, but her name had featured prominently in the intelligence reports he’d caught up on. Pale eyes stood out against dark hair and strong cheekbones, and the holographic image of her, hovering in the middle of the main display, took a beat before she spoke. ‘Lieutenant Beckett. This meeting is overdue.’

Beckett gave a lopsided smile. Distantly, he was aware of the SOC doors sealing themselves automatically in acknowledgement of the security of the comm line. ‘Just as Endeavour’s going into a blackout zone? I’m honoured you prioritised me.’

‘I’ve read Captain Valance’s report to Commodore Rourke. But Swiftsure is much closer than Redemption, so I’m in a position to respond, and no answer from him will reach you before you enter the storm.’

‘What can I do for you?’

The image of Faust leaned forward. ‘Lieutenant. As Chief Intelligence Officer of the USS Endeavour, you are directed to take all necessary measures to ensure Borg technology does not fall into the hands of the Romulan Republic.’

He swallowed. ‘Can, uh, I ask why you’re having this conversation with me and not Captain Valance?’

‘There are chains of command,’ Faust said vaguely. ‘But in matters of national security – information gathering and analysis, protection – I speak with the authority of Vice Admiral Beckett.’

‘You mean,’ said the admiral’s son, drawing a deep breath, ‘that Commodore Rourke gives the orders to starship captains, and you give the orders on the cloak-and-dagger stuff that keeps his desk clean.’

One perfect eyebrow quirked. ‘That’s one perspective. My perspective is that I focus on my responsibilities, and Commodore Rourke and Captain Valance focus on theirs.’

‘So… what’re you saying? You want me to go behind Captain Valance’s back but still somehow impact the operations of two ships? We’re already trying to get to the Borg signal first.’

‘I’m saying that Captain Valance is obligated to consider certain diplomatic priorities because command staff in this squadron have high profiles with our neighbours and allies,’ said Faust coolly. ‘You and I, on the other hand, have other considerations.’

‘Such as… what? Maintaining Starfleet supremacy in the region?’ Beckett said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. It was a bold move for an officer of his status with someone of her rank, but her invocation of his father had not been missed. She’d made this personal first.

Faust’s expression flickered. Then she sat up. ‘It has been Federation policy for nearly half a century to stop or minimise the access of foreign powers to Borg technology. We don’t want to see a repeat of the Artifact. From the technological advantages it gives our neighbours to the sheer danger that can be unleashed by Borg equipment, it is morally vacuous to act as if all governments are equally responsible, equally trustworthy. Certain command staff can act as if Starfleet has no right to judge, but on a pragmatic level, it is cowardice to not judge, to not act on that judgement.’

‘This isn’t a repeat of the Artifact,’ said Beckett with a frown. ‘The Republic isn’t the Free State. They’re our allies.’

‘The Republic are our allies, yes,’ Faust conceded. ‘But it is a fledgling government of weak infrastructure and security. Their borders are leakier than an FCA good practice report. Anything the Republic knows today, the Tal Shiar knows tomorrow – yesterday. I am sure you have met principled Republic officers and representatives who truly want the best democratic outcome for their people, but they are at the heart of a patchwork system that is simply no match for those who seek to prey on and exploit it. If they secure the Borg technology, either their study of it or the equipment itself will be on the black market in the Midgard Sector in hours.’

‘You don’t know that.’

He knew it was a weak argument and, plainly, so did she. But to his surprise, she softened. ‘Lieutenant, I know how very hard Frontier Day was for you. We’re here to make sure nothing like that happens again.’

Now his mouth was dry. Frontier Day was a jumble of memories and senses, a maelstrom in his mind where he was hardly sure where he had ended and the Collective had begun. But some things were clear. Like his hands around Rosara’s throat. ‘Stopping the Republic getting Borg technology doesn’t prevent another Frontier Day,’ he said lamely.

‘Whatever happens next won’t be the same,’ Faust allowed. ‘But if we’re not vigilant, it could be worse. All it takes is for Borg technology to not be as dead as the Republic think, the Orion Syndicate thinks, and we have assimilated ships in the Midgard Sector. Endeavour is on the front line. We deal with these problems now, or you deal with these problems when there are drones on your deck.’ She leaned forward a half-inch. ‘Again.’

His fingertips tingled, and Beckett’s eyes flickered down to his hand. It looked normal. Steady. But adrenaline was still spiking through his system, the fight-or-flight reaction stirring as she stoked the memories of what the Borg had done to him, and what they’d made him do. When he swallowed, his mouth tasted bitter.

It felt like a long time had passed before he looked up at the image of Faust. ‘I understand, ma’am. But I don’t know what I can do that Captain Valance can’t to complete the mission. Even if I’m… weapons-free, so to speak.’

Faust’s expression flickered. ‘I’m sending you a data package. It should contain everything you need for surveillance and, if necessary, infiltration. Our alliance with the Republic means our understanding of their communication and security systems is considerably more sophisticated than they believe it is. Wait for the opportune moment, Lieutenant. And at worst, watch everything. Record everything. And furnish me with a full report on the Ihhliae once you leave.’

He looked back at the panel to see the inbound data package. Again he swallowed. ‘Thank you, Captain.’ Stiff now, Beckett straightened. ‘I’ll do what I can.’

‘I know, Lieutenant. Remember Frontier Day. Remember: never again.’

The line went dead. The doors still did not unseal themselves; they needed Beckett’s say-so. He wasn’t sure, with the security restrictions Faust had placed on that line, that even Valance could open them without initiating a ship-wide emergency. He stood in place for a long moment, staring at the spot on the holo-display where Faust had been, and moments later, a series of data files sprang up, sent over from the Swiftsure.

‘Never again,’ Beckett breathed. Then he opened the files and got to work.