Squadron commander’s log, Stardate 2401.6. Captain Valance has reported Endeavour’s success in responding to a Borg signal from near the Rencaris system after close cooperation with our allies in the Romulan Republic. We’re one step closer to discovering the mission of the destroyed Cube. Regardless, its remains are still scattered across the sector, and my captains have their hands full dealing with the consequences…

‘Rho Detara was not a problem,’ reported the holographic projection of Captain Faust. ‘We found minor wreckage in the system, but the locals were in no condition to secure it.’

Captain Daragon tilted his head. ‘What’s the situation with the locals? You’re our first ship there since the fall of Rator.’

Rourke tensed at the question. It was a relevant point but not a topic he thought would prove particularly fruitful in his meeting with the senior officers of Endeavour Squadron – minus, ironically, representatives from Endeavour herself. He was still aboard Redemption, which continued her work in the Lockney system with what was being referred to as the Alpha Wreck to examine, catalogue, and, if necessary, disable Borg technology in the debris. While Captain Daragon did not need him to supervise, it was easier for him to liaise with Midgard Sector operations from this many light-years over the border, where he could communicate directly with his ships on missions taking them further out than ever before.

This meeting was thus being held around the holographic projector in Redemption’s CIC, his centre of operations. Daragon himself had joined him, as had Ambassador Hale, but Captain Faust of the Swiftsure, Commander Xhakaza of the Ranger, and Commander Harrian, squadron strategic operations currently in command of the USS Tempest, were only holographic projections transmitted through subspace. Endeavour was still too far out for instant communication, even with Swiftsure to relay.

Despite Rourke’s assumption of her cynicism, Captain Faust gave a tight smile. ‘Commander Malhotra reached out to the locals while we secured the package. They’re an indigenous people called the Elkari, former vassals of the Star Empire and then Rator. The Romulans pulled out last year. The Elkari seem to have seized very few imperial assets; they were put to work in industry scattered across the planet and are now consolidating their society on one of the smaller continents. I don’t think they have a population of more than three hundred million. Their use of imperial technology they’d scrounged told them about wreckage in orbit, but they didn’t have the know-how to identify it as Borg. I’m not sure they would have known to be worried.’

‘That’s truly something,’ said Daragon, eyes bright with wonderment. ‘A whole new culture escaping an imperialist yoke. We shall have to reach out to them further.’ He leaned forward with an excitable look towards Hale.

Hale, for her part, looked like she shared some of Rourke’s apprehensions, but she did nod and look to Faust. ‘If you don’t mind, Captain, I’d like to speak with Commander Malhotra, at his convenience. Perhaps we can conduct some diplomatic outreach once this is over.’

‘We have our hands full dismantling the technology we’ve found,’ Faust sniffed. ‘But I will direct his report to you, Ambassador.’

Rourke leaned forward. ‘How much longer do you need at Rho Detara, Captain?’

She shrugged. ‘Another day or so to be sure.’

‘Good. Any update from Zephral, Commander?’ His eyes went to the projection of young Xhakaza.

‘My science officer’s having a field day with the study, sir, I can tell you that,’ Xhakaza said brightly. ‘We’re learning considerably more about the nature of transwarp by studying the subspace disruptions from the conduit’s collapse.’

‘Is there any indication,’ Faust pushed more tartly, ‘whether the Cube was destroyed first and that collapsed the conduit, or vice versa?’

Xhakza shook his head. ‘We know for sure that the conduit’s collapse triggered localised subspace implosions. Based on the reports from the Redemption, my officers reckon that shattered the Cube’s structural integrity matrix. It’s just not clear if the Cube was already in trouble when that happened.’

‘So we don’t know much,’ said Faust.

‘We know a little more. It’s not good news.’ Xhakaza sighed. ‘We had the reports from Endeavour about the Mesea Storm. My science officer agrees: the collapse of the transwarp conduit has left subspace fractures potentially across the sector. That probably caused the plasma field’s unpredictable agitation.’

Rourke worked his jaw. ‘Any other consequences of that?’ he asked of his command staff – former pilots, tactical officers like him, or intelligence analysts. His eyes fell on Harrian, the only former science officer of them.

Harrian squirmed. ‘I was a xenoanthropologist, Commodore,’ he pointed out. ‘But we should watch for pockets where space-time has been disrupted. That could be extremely hazardous.’

‘I’ve had enough of that for several lifetimes, thank you very much,’ Rourke sighed. ‘But that does bring me to you, Commander. Update from the Tempest?’

Harrian rolled his eyes. ‘Smugglers. The good news is that the ones we’re finding seem to be very dumb. The bad news is, the smart ones are probably slipping through the net. We’ve got border checks set up for ships crossing into Federation space, but that’s a vast area. The other bad news is that we have confiscated Borg technology from them – not a lot, but some of it predates the Cube. New supply seems to have sparked new demand. Old Borg cybernetic trade operations which died out in ‘99 seem to have woken up.’

Rourke rubbed his temples. ‘Okay. Where are we at with emerging hotspots? Once Swiftsure and Endeavour are done?’

‘We have a hotspot,’ Faust pointed out. ‘It’s the Republic getting their hands on Borg technology.’

‘Captain Valance made an appropriate decision to cooperate with our allies,’ said Rourke. But a decision made by a captain on the frontier, with nobody to tell them what to do, sounded less fun when he was now the flag officer who had to deal with the fallout.

‘I don’t think debating Captain Valance’s decision is useful,’ said Faust to his surprise. ‘But it’s a reality we have to deal with. Commodore, I would like to dispatch a team to investigate what the Republic is doing with this technology and ascertain how secure it is in their hands.’

While Rourke was still considering his words, Xhakaza sat up and said, ‘You mean spy on them. Spy on our allies.’

Even through a holographic projector, Faust’s gaze was cool. ‘I mean assess a possible security threat immediately adjacent to Federation borders.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Xhakaza said. ‘If we’re worried about them handling it, we should be sending them science teams to help.’

‘I’m not primarily worried that they’ll endanger themselves by pressing the wrong button – I feel like that’s a situation that will take care of itself. I’m worried that Commander Harrian will see what they took from Mesea on the black market tomorrow.’

‘We can’t control that, even if we had a spy watching their every move,’ Xhakaza pointed out. ‘And realistically, our spies can’t spot every breach in their security. We’ve got a better chance if we help the Republic – that reduces the odds something goes wrong and raises the odds they’ll tell us.’

Faust made a face. ‘I dislike stereotyping, but, Commander, you are suggesting the Romulan Republic will volunteer information about their internal security failures if we send them one science team to help?’

‘They don’t get a science team,’ Rourke said with a sigh. ‘We don’t have a spare science team. Ambassador Hale, can you try to use the goodwill bought us by Captain Valance to keep dialogues open with the Republic on this?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ she said with a guarded smile.

‘Then, in the meantime,’ said Faust, ‘I’ll dispatch teams to monitor the border on this end.’

Rourke looked at her projection. The subtext was plain: she would send Commander Daine, her spook of a security officer – or even Commander Garec, her brute of an XO – across the border if she deemed it necessary. But telling her directly to obey the treaty and not enter Republic space without permission would achieve, at most, an argument. He grunted his assent instead. ‘Anything else on hotspots?’

‘Runabouts handled the Borg debris beyond Scarix,’ said Harrian. ‘Nothing noteworthy. Hull fragments.’

‘We’ve launched further probes,’ added Faust. ‘If there are more signals out there, we’ll find them.’

‘Good. If that’s all, we get back to work.’ The meeting wrapped up with little more than formalities, and Rourke made another frustrated noise as he sat back. ‘What a bloody mess.’

Captain Daragon stood. ‘It has not escalated, at least, sir. Can I invite you both to dinner again?  The chef claims he’s perfected, ah, toad-in-the-hole.’ Taviel Daragon had the reputation of an old workhorse of an officer, an old-school Starfleet idealist captain who’d been banished to the hinterlands for opposing post-Mars policies. It made everyone overlook that he’d been born to Kriosian nobility – until they met him, at which point his perfect manners and effusive generosity shone through. He’d had them both to dine on their first evening aboard, offering a sumptuous meal of delicacies from a dozen worlds that had prompted from Rourke a wry comparison to hearty, stodgy, traditional cooking from his childhood. Likely enraptured by the ridiculous name, Daragon had made it his mission to feed his guest and squadron commander ‘a taste of home away from home.’

‘That sounds… great, Captain,’ said Rourke. ‘I look forward to it.’ He didn’t have the heart to explain his relationship with the dish was little more than ‘fond.’

‘I’m not sure what I’m about to eat,’ admitted Hale, ‘but you and I can find out together, Captain. I’ll be there.’

Daragon gave his broad, amiable smile. ‘Any discovery with you is an adventure, Ambassador. ‘Til later.’ His nod was so deep as to almost be a bow before he left.

Rourke sagged to rest his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes. ‘Oh, bloody hell.’

He was so deep into the momentary respite that he didn’t hear Hale rise, and his first awareness that she’d moved came from her hands at his shoulders. ‘I’m sure Daragon’s chef isn’t that bad.’

A wry chuckle escaped his lips, and Rourke sank back to lean against her as she stood behind his chair. ‘Borg mess everywhere, Xhakaza’s children on the second-biggest site of scientific intrigue in the sector’s history, I’m wasting Harrian chasing pirates, and Faust is about to send operatives to break a treaty with our allies on the off-chance they’re incompetent. A bad dinner might finish me off.’

Her fingers began to work at his shoulders, finding knots tighter than he’d known were there, even through the uniform jacket. ‘I’ll reach out to the Republic. We can work with the goodwill Valance has bought us.’

He sighed. ‘It’ll be another damn mess with Command. Policy -’

‘Is twenty-five years old. The political landscape has changed a lot since the Federation decided nobody should tinker with Borg technology. We’ve broken the spirit of it. With everything that’s going on, it would be naive to think Borg technology won’t fall into someone’s hands. We have to prepare for that reality instead of pushing for impractical goals.’

‘That might fly with your superiors. If Faust jumps the border and traces Borg tech leaving the Republic for the Synnef Nebula, I have to be ready to shield Valance.’

‘Which is why,’ said Hale, voice softer, ‘I’m going to buy some diplomatic victories with what she did.’

His shoulders eased, her presence and good sense doing more than her fingers in defeating the tension that had sunk into his bones since the Ranger’s original report. He tilted his head back to look up at her. ‘What would I do without you?’

‘Probably have a far more professional debriefing with the Diplomatic Corps’ representative to the Midgard Sector,’ Hale mused, a smile dancing about her lips.

‘But that would be less fun.’ His hand came up to hers for a gentle squeeze. ‘I need to get on the comms to Gateway. See if Dashell can spare anyone to join the Ranger. Those kids really need bringing closer to home than they are out there.’

‘They seem like they’re doing a good job. But help can’t hurt.’ She nodded. ‘I need to see if Malhotra will tell me anything about these Elkari at Rho Detara. I can’t believe Faust gave him a job…’

‘That was Daragon’s doing,’ Rourke said. Several former crewmembers of the USS Triumph, largely disgraced by Starfleet after Jericho took the blame for the Battle of Izar, had been taken aboard Redemption by Captain Daragon. Ranicus and Sterlah had, it transpired, served with Daragon before Jericho, and old loyalties died hard. That appeared to be reciprocal, Daragon making sure his new crewmembers’ old comrades were not left in the cold with no home and no respect. Rourke appreciated that – those officers didn’t deserve to see their careers harmed for Jericho’s pig-headedness and political sacrifice alike – but putting a man in a position as vulnerable as Malhotra under Faust left him uncomfortable. There was, however, nothing he could do about it.

Hale smiled wanly. ‘We can blame him over dinner.’

The work was long and hard. Not merely for the task at hand, but Rourke knew this was his future now. No more would he be taking his ship and crew into a phenomenon beyond communications reach, where they’d survive the elements by their wits and be forced to make decisions there, trusted as Starfleet captains were. No, he’d ride out this adventure from a desk – today, and for the rest of his career.

But it was made a much, much easier prospect by Sophia Hale leaning down to kiss him quickly before she departed to take on her own battles in this war they shared. Almost against his will, Rourke knuckled down to focus on the strategic display of the Midgard Sector gleaming before him in the CIC.

An hour later, a message flagged up, incoming from Endeavour. The ache in his heart was apprehension and jealousy alike and did not ease when he opened it and read the first sentence from Valance.

We have a new lead.